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'P^'^

-^4^ -

CHAMBERS'S

INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

J]XV <].(] 4; Yi

miiiK'O, i^ii^aaic oiruk ma;

CONTENTS.

PHTIIOAL HUIOBT OF MAN — ■THMOUMIT,
.i.^lLAN00iOI, ....

OONBTITOTION OF 800IRT— OOTKRNMKMT,

UinOHY AND NATUKI OF LAWS,

BISTORT OF ANOinra NATIONS,

BISTORT OF ORBIOl, ...

BISTORT OF ROm,

BISTORT OF TBB MIDDLI AOB,

amORT OF ORRAT BRITAIN AND IRBLAND,

OONRITDTION AND RB0UBCB8 OF THK BRITIBB RBFIRB,

KUROPX, ....

■NOLAND AND WALBS, ...

SCOTLAND, ....

IRELAND, ....

ASIA — HAST INDIES, ...

AFRICA— OCEANIA, ...

NORTB AMERICA, ...

SOUTB AMERICA — WBgT INDIES,
.^TBE BDMAN MIND, ...

PBRBNOLOOT, ....

__LOOI0, ....

NATURAL THEOLOOT— ETBICS,

BISTORT OF THE BIBLE — CHRISTUNITT,

PAOAN AND MOHAMMEDAN RBLIOIONS,

8UPEIUTITION8,

MET TO TBB CALENDAR, -

TBE PRITATB DUTIES OF LIFE,

PUBLIC AND SOCIAL DUTIES OF LIFE,

POLITICAL ECONOMY, ...

COMMERCE — MONET— BANKS,

POPULATION — POOR-LAWS — LIFE-ASSURANCE,

SOCIAL ECONOMICS OF THE INDUSTRIOUS ORDERS,

POPULAR STATISTICS, ...

EDUCATION, ....

RNRLISB GRAMMAR,

ARITHMETIC — ALOGBRA, •

O^MBTRT, ....

DRAWING — PAINTING— SCULPTURE,

0TMNA8TIGS — OUT-OF-DOOR RECREATIONS,

IN-DOOR AMUSEMENTS, ...

ARCBiBOLOOr, ...
RHEIORIO AND BELLES LETTRES, -

PRINTING, ....

BNGRATINU LITHOGRAPHY — PHOTOGRAPHY,

MUSIC— MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS,

HOUSEHOLD HINTS, ...

INDEX, AND GLOSSARY OF TERMS,

Ko.

Pacb

113

- 59-61

129

177

198

209

225

> .

241

257

273

289

805

821

837

358

369

385

401

417

433

449

465

481

497

613

629

645

661

677

693

609

625

641

667

673

689

706

721

- 97-98

737

769

100

785

INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

PHYSICAL HISTORY OF MAN-ETHNOLOGY.

The moit ■uporficial lurvoy of the earth nhowi itt
huinan iuhabitanta to be greatly ilivcrtificd in exter-
nal qualitlei— oa coin])lcxion, itaturo, the form of the
head, and the cait of the features. It also exhibita
these dIveraUiw as all more or less localised, whence
of course tl^' inference is drawn, that they attach to
races or ni^tioas, with whom thoy form permanent cha-
racteristics. Modern times saw the rise of a science,
which, under the name of the Physical JJtMtory of Man,
observed these external qualities as zoological facts —
facts both iit themselves interesting, and of some value
aa means of determining certain points in the early
history of the roce. Latterly, the various languages of
mankmd have been added to the subjects embraced by
the science; and as these are not to be comprehended
under the term physical, a new name has become
necessary, and that of £t/mology, as implying simply
the science of national distinctions, has been adopted
by many. It appears that we are now to look to this
science not merely for a view of the natural history of
man, and of the Hundry questions connected therewith,
but for light regarding that obscure but interesting
portion of his social history which preceded the use of
writing. As yet, however. Ethnology is only in its
infancy, and mr much which it advances, wo arc to
expect that corrections or modifications will come ere
many years arc passed.

rUIMARY DIVISIONS OV MANKIND.

The observations of naturalists have shown that,
while it is true that a certain species of animals, re-
maining under certain conditions, exhibits unifonuity
of characters from one generation to another, a change
of conditions will, in the course of generations, produce
a corresponding change in the organic characters of the
species, and even in its mental habitudes. Thus, for
example, while the wolf is everywhere the same animal,
because everywhere passing a wild life in desert places,
the dog, distributed over the whole civilised world, and
subjected to a great variety of conditions, haa passed into
numberltJss varieties of form, colour, and disposition.
It appears, however, that these results are only efibrts
of nature to accommodate herself to ciroumstances, for
the purpose of maintaining the existence of the species
under the new conditions, and that there are limits
beyond which change cannot be carried; so that, after
all, a particular type is constantly preserved, towards
which the animals would return if the original con-
ditions wero restored. Thus the domesticated pig of
Europe, allowed to run wild in America, has recovered
the tusks and other extenial features of the wild boar
■~that original state of the species from which domes-
No. 51.

tication had brought it. On such grounds it ii tint
naturalists hold the distinction and persuverane* of
fuecies as facts in nature. It has been found, indeed,
tnat species nearly allied, as the horse and aai, will
produce an otispnng in which the parental qualities
are associated or blended ; but such hybrids haVe never
been known to continue a race manifesting this union
of qualities, and accordingly they in noway afliict the
conclusion, that specific character is a determinate thing
in nature, only liable to temporary modifications.

Under the light thus derived from the study of the
lower animals, it is now generally held that we are to
regard mankind as of one species — a species passinc
into an unusual number of^ varieties in aspect and
mental character, only because they are more widely
diifuBcd than any other animated beings over the face
of the earth, and thereby exposed to an unusual variety
of conditions, and called to exercise their mental qua-
lities in an unequalled variety of ways. In the group
of human beings commonly called a nation, there is
always some set of characteristics more or less peculiar,
and by which it can be distinguished from all others;
though even in this association, especially if civilisa-
tion have made any considerable way, we shall find
great difTorencos in complexion, form, and mental cha-
racter. Nations, again, are generally capable of being
grouped under; eome denomination which expresses a
more comprehensive set of characters, and marks an
afiinity of a wider kind. We may go on classifying in
this manner, by more and more comprehensive chamc-
ters, until we arrive at a small number of leading
varietiti, in which nothing remains in common but the
general forms and powers of the humAi organisation.
It is difficult, in the present state of the science, to say
how many such varieties there are; but it may be con-
venient to describe the five into which the venerable
lUuinenbach has divided mankind.

Caucasian (Indo-European and Byro-Arablan) Race.

The many nations extending from India westward
through Soutliern Asia into Europe and Northern
Africa, and which recent times have seen sending out
ofi^shoots into the western continent, are comprihen-
sively grouped by Blumenbach and Cuvier under the
term Caucasian, because tradition seemed to point to
the mountains between the Caspian and the Black Sea
as the region where the race had originated. The pro-
priety of the designation is denied by many, and it is
now believed that two distinct varieties of mankind are
grouped under it. These Dr Prichard describes as the
Indo-European or Arian race — comprehending the Hin-
doos, Persians, Afighaus, and Armenians, Msides the

CHAMBEBS'S INFORUATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

gttAi Imlk of the Kurop«an nntloni — ami the 8jrro-
Arabittii or Meiiiitic race, iM>m|>riiiin){ tlie Syrian ami
Arabian ntttiuim. liotli Brou|>i liuve the generul cha-
racteriitic of a lair coMiplixion (with excc|)tioni to lie
•herwanli noticed); and thia ■oouii to juitifv their
hc'uig vonnidiired ui one
riico; lint, on the other
hiuiii, the lan(;un){oa aru
now licliuved to have no
tort of true ulRnity — a
tent wiiich iniidorn othno-
j|rrii!>her8 regard ai mora
conviuiive. It will iievor-
thulviia tio convenient to
apoulc of all theao niitiona
under the old term Canca-
aiun, which hai now been
too oxtennively rccogniacd
to bo readily diaplacud.
The Syro-Arabian ^roup
have been found from the earliest timoa of which wo
have niiv record, in tlie countriea from which their gene-
ral uppvllution ia taken, (They are alio called Stmilic
nationa, aa auppoaod to have descended from Slicni, one
of the aoni nl Noah.) Diiitinguiahed from nil the rcat
of mankind by their liitignu;;o, they iilao stand out in
hiatory aa a people of moat remarkable chunictcra, and
particularly for their exalted notion of an unseen but
almighty Clod, the creator of the world. In thia group we
find the founders of the great empire which existed for
10 many agei on the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates;
the Phooniciana, who seem to have been the first com-
mercial people of the earth; the Hebrews, whoso hia-
tory ia that of the faith recorded In the aacred Scrip-
tures; and the Arabians, among whom sprung un the
Moharomedan religion. The Abyasinians probably
belong to this race, and the ancient Kgyptians are
generally classed with it, though Dr Prichard is of
opinion that these were in the main n'l Ethiopian or
Negro people. Dr Larrey, the eminent French surgeon,
was of opinion that the Arabs furnish the most perfect
form of the human head — ' the most perfect derolop-
luent of all the internal organi>, as well ai of those
which belong to the senses.' Spare but active persons,
skins of a light brown, sallowed sometimes by unusual
exposure, high foreheads, large dark eyes, oral features,
with aquiline noses and small thin-lipped mouths,
form the personal characteristics of the Arabs. They
have occupied the cqntines of the present Arabia from
time immemorial, and their natural habits have ever
been pastoral and migratory. The Uedouin Arabs claim
descent from Ishmael; and however this may be, it is
plain, from physical characteristics alone, that they are
ft cognate race with the .Tews. The latter were origi-
nally derived from the Chaldeans, an elder branch of
the Arab stock settled in Diibylonia, and they were a
pastoral and wandering people like their neighbours,
until they settled in tlio cities of Palestine, A body of
Canaanite Arabs, expelled by the Jews under Joshua,
ftre understood to have settled in Africa, and become
the nation of the Mauri or Moors, Hoverned by Mo-
hammed and his successors, the Arab race rose to high
consequence, and, under the name of Saracens, made
great conquests of territory in Asio Minor, Africa, ond
m Spain. They were afterwards deprived of supe-
riority in some of these countries, but left extensive
tribes in the African continent and Asia Minor, The
Berbers (or Liliyans) are a race who seem of Arab
descent, but who probably settled in Africa at a far
distant date. They resemble the Arabs in person, but
are more darkened in complexion. Under the name
of Tuariks, they range both to the north and south of
Mount Atlas. They arc wilder in habits than the
Arabs, but may be spoken of as the same race, and
with the same capabilities.

The Indo-European group is described by Dr Pri-
chard OS appearing in the earliest ages on the high
grounds between the sources of the Indus and Oxus,
whence they went off in two great branches, ultimately

constituting the Hindoos and Persians. The Zend, the
ancient language of the Peraians, and the Sanscrit, the
ancient language of the Hindoos, have an affinity which

autlicicntly proves the coniinoii origin of the two na-
tiona. The

complexion being described as of a coU'ee-colour ; but
Te ■

Indians are a duaky people, the general

whifo the people of the high grounds are comparatively
white, many of thoae of the idaina, and caiiccially the
cluaaes engaged in out-door lalMiur, are its dark a» Ne-
groes. In general they are a feeble and gentle people;
but their having attained to eiviiiaed inatitutiona ut
an early period, and their ancient diatinction in the
aciencea, particularly mathematics, are circumstances
which manifest no mean intellectual ehnrnctor.

Ethnographers conaiilcr it as eatablinhed that the
principal European nationa are colonica from Asia, and
descendants of the same people with the Hindoos iiuJ
Persians. It is solely to a study of the languages that
wc are indebted for this conclusion. According to Dr
Prichard, * If we are to eimmerato the ditl'erent na-
tions who are to bo considered as ramilications of the
Indo-European stock, viewing those as the most ancient
which are farthest removed from the centre, or from
the path of migration, we must begin with the Celtic
mttions in tho west of Europe, including; the two
branches which are represented in modern times, one
bv the Iriah, Scots, and Manx, and tho other by tho
Welsh and Armoricans, or liretons. Next to them, In
the north of Europe, is the Uerinanio family. It con-
sists, according to the conclusions of the latest and
moat accurate ]ihilologers, of two principal divisions:
of the Northmen, ancestors of the Icelanders, Nor-
wegians, and Swedes and Danes; and secondly, of
tho proper Teutonic stock in its throe subdivisions,
which are tho Saxon or Western Oerman, the Suevians
or High German, and the Oothicor Eastern clan. Tho
next branch of the Indo-European stock are tribes who
speak tho dialects of the Uld Prussian or Pruthenian
language, These dialects are the Lettish, LithuaniaTi,
and the Proper Pruthenian, which, of all the languages
of Europe, bear by far the nearest resemblance to the
original Sanscrit. I'he people who spoke these dialects
had a peculiar mythology, and an ancient and very
powerful hierarchy, as famous in the north as were
those of the Itrahmins and the Druids in tho east and
west. The Slavic or Sclavonic race is a fourth Indo-
European family: its two great branches are the West-
ern or Proper Slavic, including the Poles, Dohemians,
Obotrites, and tho tribes near the Daltic; secondly,
the Eastern branch, comprehending tho Uussians, the
Servians, and other tribes nearly related to them.' Dr
Prichard adds, that the Italian nations, excepting
only the Tuscans, form collectively another and au
early branch of tho same stock, all their various lan-
guages, the Oscan, Latin, Sicilian, &c. being but
variations of one speech. Finally, ho enumerates the
Albanians, Illyrians, and the more celebrated Hellenic
or Ureek race. * It would,' he savs, ' be an interesting
question, if there wore any data likely to facilitate its
discussion, whether the Arian [Indo-European] nations
found on their arrival in Europe the different countries
already occupied by previous inhabitants, or vacant,
and affording them a peaceful and undisturbed admis-
sion. The former hypothesis appears most probable,
since we know that the most remote ])arts whither these
nations ultimately arrived were previously inhabited.
The Euskaldunes appear already to have possessed
Spain before tho arrival of tho Celtic tribes in that
country .... In the north of Europe the German na-
tions, or rather the Northmen, found the countries on
the Baltic coast already occupied by Jotuns, nations of
the Finnish or Ugrian race; a people, like themselves, of
Eastern origin, but emigrantsof an earlier age,and from a
different part of Asia.' From the appearance, mon^over,
of the remains of an earlier language in the Celtic, it
may be surmised that the Celts, whose fate it afterwards
was to be dispossessed of thegreaterpart of their territory,
were originally aggressors upon some still earlier people.
The Oermank family prevails, a« has been laid, over

PHTBIOAL niBTOIlT OF MAK-ETITNOLOOY.

II. Tho Zond, t)i«

I tliu Sitiiicrit, tlio
.■ mi nfHiilty which

II of the two iia-
!<i|>l«, the general
ciillve-colour j but
nru oniiiparntiroly
and c«i)«cially tho
'o iw ilnrk a* Nc-
ukI (roiitlo people;
D(l iiiatitutiuti* lit
illatiiictiuii ill tho
ikre circumst»iicv8
t'liiirnctcr.
iblJHhiMl that tho
ica friiiii Aaiii, ninl

the lliiidool and

ho Ian(;uago8 lliat

According to Dr

tho ditl'ereiit na<

inilicntiona of tho

I the iiioit ancient

10 centre, or from

n with tho Coltiu

icludiii;; tho two

iiodorn tiinca, ono

tho utlier hy tho

Next to thoin, in

I family. It con-

'f the latoit and

incinal diviiioni :

Icelander!, Nor-

and secondly, of

U'oe lubdiviaions,

nan, tho Sueviani

utem clan. The

ck are tribes who

an or I'ruthenian

itiah, Lithuanian,

nil the languages

icmblanco to the

>ke these dialects

mcieiit and very

north as were

in tho east and

a fourth Indo-

es arc tho \V«wt-

les, Bohemians,

Initio ; Bocoiidly,

u llussinns, the

d to them.' Dr

ions, excepting

vnother and an

icir various lan-

&c. being but

cnumcrntes the

ibrated Hellenic

le an interesting

to facilitate its

ropean] nations

ITerent countries

uita, or vncant,

isturbed ndiiiis-

most probable,

ts whither those

lualy inhabited.

have possessed

tribes in that

he German nn-

le countries on

uns, nations of

Q themselves, of

nge,andfroma

ance, mon^over,

1 the Celtic, it

e it afterwards

Ftheir territory,

earlier people.

been said, over

• great pnrt of Conlinl and Northern Europe, filling
(lerniany and Hcaiidiiiavia, and partly also Kuasia
and Poland. Tho decline of the Roman power brought
out tho (lermaiiio tribes from thoir northern aettle-
nient.i, and, under various nnmea, they Intruded into
tho aoiiMi-wcat of Kurope. Thry likewise piiahed them-
selves In powerful nianaes towards the west, and colo.
nisod tho principal parts of tho iile of Mrltain. From
them cnmo tho chid olnnuMits of the lilalects spoken in
Ilcdiand, Utninnrk, and Knglund. Itobuat forma, light
linir, blue eves, florid complexions, and large broad-
fronted heads, constitute tho chief physical churactor-
isli( < of the pure (Itrmaniu family: while, morally and
intuUeoiually, they stand nre-ominsnt above all tho
other tribes of mankind. They are (.Diispicioiis, in pnr-
ticulnr, for what may bo called tho inUiutrial virtwi.
exhibiting a degree of iniloniitnblo perseverance in all
improving pursuits, which has rendered thein the great
invenlon ot the human race. The admixture of llor-
ninii and Tartar blood In tho north-eaaterri nntions of
Kurope, has givoii to these darker hair and complexions
than the preceding section, and has also lessoned their
propensity to iiitellectuni cultivation. Tho effects of
the Tartar connuest of Russia in tho twelfth century
by nhenghis Knnn, whosn successors held the country
for 200 years, will probably be obsorvablo in the career
of this people for ages yet to come.

Tho Celtic family formed extensive settlements at n
very eorly period in Western Europe. Tho whole, it
may be said, of Italy, Spain, France (called (lallin
Collica), and Britain, wns peopled by them. Tho suc-
cessive commingling of races, caused by incursions of
the Oreoks, Romans, and Oormnna, did much to oblite-
rate tho traces of this variety in its pure state; yet
the race, language, and name, still remain in their
primitive condition on the outskirts of tho original
Celtic dominions. These pure Celts show us whnt the
physical characteristics of their ancestors were. Their
frames are athletic, spare, and wiry; their foreheads
narrow, and tho head itself elongated; the noso and
mouth large, and tho cheek-bones high ; in all, their
features are rather harsh. In character they aro hot
and fiery, but generous and brave; nnd they are re-
markably patient of fatigue. Intellectually considered,
they are acute and ingenious in the highest degree, but
are deficient in that breadth and solidity oi under
standing which distinguishes tho Qermanic family.

The present population of France partakes largely of
the Celtic blood, notwithstanding various invasions of
the Germanic tribes, from ono of which, tho Franks,
came tho modem name of the country. From the
Celts, the French people derive their proverbial viva-
city of temper, tneir quickness of perception, their
dashing bravery, and, most probably, their undeniable
inconstancy and flightiiiess of disposition. Britain,
again, has retained comparatively slight traces of her
early Celtic inhabitants, though the language is con-
spicuous in a vast number of tho names of places
throughout the island. A brnnch of tho Germans
had visited England even before tho invasion of the
Romans; and after the latter cnme Dane, and Saxon,
and Norman, in such numbers, that the pure aboriginal
stock were left only in the Highlands of Scotlnnd, and
partly in Wales. The Scottish Lowlands had early
Deon colonised by people of Germanic origin ; and sub-
sequent intermixtures with the southern inhabitants of
the island in time gave tho population still more of the
Germanic character. In this manner was formed the
root of the existing British nation, one of the most re-
markable on the face of the earth. Inferior to none of
the Caucasian families in intellectual endowments, and
possessed of indomitable courage and unbounded enter-
prise, it has scattered its colonies over a large portion
of the globe, giving to new regions its language, its
genius, and its arts. Much of tne excellence that be-
longs to the British character certainly arose from the
preponderating infusion of Germanic blood. But the
sprinkling left of Celtic blood seems to hare had its
use also, in giving a share of vivocity to the compara-

tively heavy, massive temperament of the pure Oer«
mana. We may Judge so from looking at the character
of tho unmixed Gormanio families. The Dutch, for
ctampio, would evidently have been an Impmveii race
had their gravity of character been lightened by a little
infuaioii of Celtic ' 'ercurialiam. Tho Kelgians have a
pretty equal share of Celtic and Germanlo blood in
thei- "elna; and conaequently, while they display the
it. t'ln'/.-ial virtues of the latter race, they also show no
sliffht a<traixture of Celtic vivacity.

There mny appear some funcifulnest in this mode of
analysis, but wo livliere that ah occurate examination
of the proportions in which the (Jermanio and Celtio
blood aro mingled in all the countries of Kurope, would
fully bear out the views now taken. In Italy, Spain,
and Portugal, infusions of Germanid blood took place,
but to a ermparatively slight extent. The aboriginal
Cults of Spain wore extensively mingled with Hoiiian
immigrants; an<l it may be said that at this day Ro-
manised Celts, with a sprinkling of Gothic (Germanic)
nnd Saraccnio blood in their veins, form the existing
population. In them, the faults of the Roman cha-
racter, as well as its haughty virtues, are even yet dis-
tinctly traceable. Romanised Celts constitute the basis
also of the Portuguese and Italian nations, and the pre-
ceding remark a])plies to their character as much as
to that of the Spaniards. The languages of the three
countries bear out these observations.

It has been remarked that the Somitio nations are
distinguished from the rest of this group by their lan-
guages. In using language as a means of ascertaining
the affinity of nations, ]>hil( ' jr* attash less conse-
quence to a community of words, thouglf this is not
overlooked by them, than to a community of gramma-
tical forms. It is remarked that ' a similar construc-
tion prevails through whole classes of languages which
have few words in common, though they appear to
have originally had more.' Tho words, it apiiears,
change and perish, but the grammatical structure is
permanent. It Is also remarked that ' there is a cog-
nate character in words themselves, which sometimes
porvad'js the entire vocabulary of a whole family of
languages, the words being formed ir. the same manner,
and i,ccordiiig to the same artificial rule.'* Common
worr'.s, to bo of any service in tho inquiry, should be
those which refer to the most simple and domestio
things, and the most natural and ordinary acts, aa
those denoting father, mother, brother, the various
parts of tho body, tho most conspicuous objects of ex-
ternal nature, as I ho heavenly bodies, the domestio
animals, &c.; also die first few numerals, and the
terms for such acts as eating, drinking, sleeping.
Gther words, it will readily be apprehended, are more
apt to have passed from one people to another, in tho
course of commerce or other intercourse. Of these,
however, it may bo said that they are indestructible
possessions of all nations. ' Tribes and families sepa-
rated from each other have been known to have pre-
served such similar words for thousands of years, in a
degree of purity that admitted of an easy recognition
of this sign of a common origin.'

Upon these principles, it has been settled that the
Sanscrit, the ancient written language of India, besides
being in strong afiinity to the Zend, or ancient lan-
guage of Persia, forms as it were the type of all the
languages of Europe, thus confirming the fact of all
these nations being from one original. Old, however,
as the Sanscrit is, it is only the last refined form of li
language which had long existed in a ruder state. It
is likewise on the same grounds established that tho
Syro-Arabian family of languages is entirely distinct
from the Indo-European; for which reaxon, those who
look most to language as evidence on ethnological
subjects, set down the Semitic nations as forming an
independent variety of mankind. The Chaldee, Arabic,
and Hebrew are the chief languages of this family
The Inst — which appears to have been also the language
* Report on Ethnology to the British Association. By Jamen
Cowlcs Frichard, M.D,, F.R.8. IB47.

CBAHBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

of PhoaniolA and of CarUukm— !• memonble u that
which has given a fonn of writing to Earope, and
aa that through which mankind haTo obtained the
laoied Scriptures.

MongolUn Race.

The hig^ land* of Central Asia, from the southern
■kirtf of which the Indo-European and Semitic races
appear to have descended,
are thought to be also the
original seat of a great
cluster 01 nations, chiefly
nomadic or wandering,
which now people Tar-
tary, Mongolia, and Rus-
sia in Asia, and of which
the Turks are an offshoot.
Dr Prichard ranks these
peoples together, as exhi-
biting a tolerable affinity
in features and language,
under the appellation of
Ugro - Tartarian. With
them other inquirers class the vast horde of Chinese
and Japanese population, as well as the tribes spread
along the shores of the Arctic Ocean, in Asia, in
Europe, and America, calling the whole Mongolian, in
order to distmguish them as a separate rave.

The physical characters -^f the Mongolians vary con-
siderably, but the following general description will be
found to apply extensively. The skin is commonly of
a sallow or olive tint, and in some cases nearly yellow;
the hair is black, long, an I straight, seldom curling;
the beard usually scanty; the iris black; ,the nose is
broad and short, and the cheek-bones broad and flat,
with salient zygomatic arches; the skull is oblong, but
flattened at the sides, so as to give an appearance of
squareness; and the forehead is low. In intellectual
character, the Mongolians are by no means defective,
but they are more distinguished for imitative than in-
Tentive genius. - This faculty at the same time renders
them highly susceptible of cultivation. In many cases,
however, tribes of this variety have arrived at consider-
able proficiency in literature and the arts. Their moral
character is decidedly low. The Turkish and Mongol
Tartar tribes have been great conquerors in past times,
and have often even vanquished the Caucasians ; but
in most cases their victories have only been temporary.
The Fins and Laplanders appear to be a remnant of
some primitive Mongolian people, whom the Caucasians
originally pushed to the extreme verge of the Arctic
seas, and were content to leave there. The Esquimaux,
as well as tho people of Finland and Lapland, have
some physical peculiarities distinguishing them from
other Mongolians, but these seem to be the effect chiefly
of local position.

Under the test of language, it would appear that
the term Mongolian, like that of Caucasian, comprises
in reality two varieties or distinct races. The language
of the Chinese, and the nations akin to them, is strik-
ingly different in all respects from all others upon
earth, ' being constructed of monosyllables which are
incapable of inflexion, and do not admit of the use of
particles as a supplement to this defect, the position
of words and sentences being the principal means of
determining f heir relation to each other, and the mean-
ing intend^ to be conveyed.' The Janguages of the
other nations comprised under the denomination of
Mongolians, possess indeed nouns incapable of inflexion,
and in which the variations of number, case, and gen-
der can only be expressed by an additional word — thus
far showing a faint affinity tu the Chinese j but these
languages exhibit other features marking a wide diftur-
ence, having auxiliaries to composition, such as our
particles and prepositions, though always placed after
the words whose meanings they affect, and also a pecu-
liar euphonic principle, usually called vocalic harmony,
(Micordii^ to which only vowels of certain sets can occur
in the same words. Ou these giounus Dr Prichard sets

apart what he calls the UgrO'Tortarian from the Chi«^
nese family of this race.

Ethloptc (African) ftace.

The Negro, with his black skin, woolly hair, and
peculiar form of countenance, appears as a very dis-
tinct tvpe of mankind, and this type is represented
generally as occupying Africa, excepting only a certain
space bordering on the
Mediterraneui, where a
Caucasian people has in-
truded. Ethiopia, a dis-
tinguished portion of the
territoty occupied by ihis
type, has supplied a de-
signation for it, which
seemed the more appro-
priate as the ancients re-
cognised the whole of the
African continent under
this name. The race has
also been described under
the appellation of Negro,

It appears, however, on a narrow examination of the
known parts of Africa, that people ftilly characterised by
the popular conception of the Negro features and colour
do not occupy a large part of that quarter of the globe.
The true Negroes, the people with which the slave
system has familiarised us, may be said to be confined
to the country of Guinea. Most of the other African
nations depart more or less from this character.

Obscure as is our knowledge of Central Africa, it is
tolerably certain that a great ran^ lof mountains
crorses it nearly in the line of the tenoi degree of north
latitude, and that the central parts of the continent to
the south are occupied by a vast table-land, much like
that which constitutes the centre of Asia. The range
of mountains makes one pretty decided division among
the African nations, all to the north being partially
civilised, while few traces of civilisation are observable
to the south.

The most southern people ore the Hottentots, who
are described as * well-proportioned, erect, of delicate
and effeminate make, not muscular; their joints and
extremities generally small; their face generally ugly,
but diflierent in different families, some having the nose
remarkably flat, others considerably raised.' It is
somewhat remarkable that this population, placed at
the extremity of Africa, bear a strong resemblance to
the Chinese and Esquimaux, who live at the opposite
extremities of the globe. The Bushmen, neighbours of
the Hottentots, appear to be the same people in a de-
graded and more savage state. To the northward,
stretching across the whole continent, are the great
nomadic nation of the Caffres. According to Professor
Licheustcin, *the universal characteristics of all the
tribes of this great nation consist in ^n external form
and figure varying exceedingly from the other nations
of Africa. Ther are much taller, stronger, and their
limbs are much better proportioned ; their colour is
brown; their hair black and woolly; their countenances
have a character peculiar to themselves, . . . the high
forehead and prominent nose of the Europeans, the
thick lips of the Negroes, and the high cheek-bones of
the Hottentots.' The Caffres have great herds, and also
cultivate the ground. They have &e idea of a supreme
being and of a future state.

Similar nomadic nations, more or less approaching
the Negro type, and of warlike character, occupy tho
countries of Conco and Loango on the west, and tho
region of Mozambique on the east, probably also the
intennediato unexplored i-egions. In the whole of
these countries there prevail dialects of cognate lan-
guages, excepting the district of the Hottentuts.

The great region, now pretty well known to Euro-
peans, situated to tho north of the Oulf of Guinea, and
extending far into the interior to tho eastward, is the
grand seat of the Negro ty^. It is from the Gold
Coast, a portion of this territory, that the Amerigun

n from the Chi.

roolly h«ir, and
■8 as a Tery di«-
B is repieiented
Qg onlj a certain

imination of the
|r cUaracterited by
atures and colour
tfter of the globe,
which the slave
id to be confiued
;he other African
character,
itral Airica, it is
'fi • of mountains
ih degree of north
I the contineut to
i-land, much like
\sia. The range
d division among
. being partially
)n are observable

Hottentots, who

irect, of delicate

their joints and

generally ugly,

kaving the nose

raised.' It is

ation, placed at

resemblance to

at the opposite

, neighhours of

people in a de-

the northward,

are the great

ting to Professor

istics of all the

external form

le other nations

nger, and their

their colour is

iir countenances

IB, . . . the high

Europeans, the

cheek-bones of

herds, and also

ea of a supreme

88 approaching
ter, occupy the
I west, and the
)bably also the

the whole of
f cognate lan-
tentuts.

mown to Euro-
of Guinea, and
astward, is the
from the Gold

the Ameri«!tkn

fHTSICAL mSTOBY OP MAN-BTHKOLOGY.

ColoDies were for age* supplied with slaves. In some
districts are found the pure Negroes, an essentially
simple and inoffensive people, of whom no description
is necessary. Other large tracts are occupied by nations
considerably above those in character s'ad in their
social state. We allude to the warlike tribes of the
Falahs, the ManOingoes, the Felatahs, and others,
among whom a civiluation has been in progress for
many centuries in connection with the propagation of
the Mohammedan religion. For an example of the
characters of these so far advanced nations, M. Ool-
berry describes the Fulahs as *fine men, robust and
courageous. They have a strong mind, and are myste-
rious and prudent; they understand commttoe. Their
women are handsome and sprightly. The colour is a
kind of reddish black; their countenances are regular,
and their hair is longer and not so woolly as that of
vh° common Negroes.' The Mandingo merchants are
well known for their activity and intelligence. We
can all sympathise in the surprise of Mr Park on find-
ing a city of 30,000 inhabitants (Sego), with many of
the usual features of civilisation in titia portion of the
earth.

It is now undurstood that, as we traverse the African
continent northwards, we pass through nations in whom
the Negro type becomes less and less conspicuous, as if
it were shading off towards the characters of the Sc'
mitic race. ' This gradual change,' says Dr Prichard,
< is not the result of the intermixture of races on the
confines of regions of old allotted to either separately.
The interme£ate tribes are not Mulattoes, or at all
resembling Mulattoes: they have each their distin-
guishing features, which, besides their distinct lan-
guages, mark them out as races separate and peculiar,
and not less distinct from Negroes than white races
themselves. These observations are the results of re-
cent inquiries made on the spot by persons well skilled
in natural history and comparative anatomy and phy-
siology, and aware of the important bearing of such
inquiries on the physical history of the human species.'
Thus in the great known district adjoining to the Red
Sea, we pass through the Gallas, Abyssinians, and
Nubians, amongst whom we find these transitions more
or less marked. The Berberines of Nubia are said by
Dr Prichard to represent very clearly the ancient
people of Egypt. It appears, on the whole, that there
are as great varieties of national appearances in Africa
as in any part of the earth of equal extent and diver-
sity of surface, and that the sole ground on which
their distinction from the other races can be efiec-
tually maintained, is the peculiar character of their
languages.

The African race are generally admitted to manifest
an inferior intellect to the various tribes of Caucasians.
They have never invented an alphabet, and their reli-
gious ideas are of a mean character. Yet it fully ap-
pears that various portions of this race have made a
certain way in the arts of life and in a social polity,
while we all know that individuals, introduced among
a civilised people, and allowed to partake of education,
have manii'ested very considerable talents. It must
also be remembered that there are great appearances
as if some offshoot of the Negro race were at least con-
cerned in the origii.ation of that first of all recorded
civilisations, that of Egypt.

Amorioan Race.

The American variety of mankind occupy well-de-
fined territorial limits. They were originally spread
over nearly the whole of the Americas, south of the
60th degree of north latitude, though their numbers
are now thinned, and their territorial possessions cur-
tailed, by the colonial incursions of the Caucasians.
A reddish-brown complexion, long< black lank hair,
deficient beard, eyes black and deep set, receding brow
(sometimes from artificial compression), high cheek-
bones, prominent aquiline nose, small skull, with the
apex high and the back part flat, large mouth and
tUQiid iTps, with fine symmetrical frames of middle

height, form the diief physical chametefistics of this
race. ' In their mental character,' sayi Professor Mor-
ton, br whom they have been thoroughly studied, ' the
Americans are averse to cultivation, tmd slow in acquir-
ing knowledge ; restlew,
revengeful, rond of war,
and wholly destitute of
maritime adventure.' The
same writer divides the
Americans into two great
classes, one of which (Tol-
tecans) embraces certain
semi - civilised nations —
as the Mexicans, Peru-
vians, and Dogotese; while
the other includes all the
hunting tribes of North
America, the Brazilians,
the Patagonians, the Fue-

gians, and other minor tribes, none of whom have
exhibited the same capacities for cultivation as the
first-mentioned nations. The Americans differ much
in colour of skin and stature. Some of them are
not brown, but of a perfect copper tint. The Pata-
gonians are of almost gigantic size, while the Fue-
gians are very short in stature. Yet there are cha-
racters commoii to all, which have led accurate In-
quirers to set them down as being throughout one
and the same people. Their languages have peculia-
rities of construction found to be universal among
them, from Cape Horn to the far north. By those
who, like Cuvier, have not viewed the Americans as
an indigenous race, the mode in which the New World
was peopled has been curiously inquired into, and it
has been conjectured that they either came by Behring's
Straits from Asia, or that some small party, in ages
long past, was wafted accidentally across the seas to
these vast shores. Such an occurrence as the latter
has been proved to be not impossible, to say the least
of it. But assuredly the weight of evidence is in favour
of the opinion that the Americans are not a casual '
offshoot from some other human family, but a people
so far indigenous at least, and primitive, as to be de-
rived from a common root, endowed with specific and
unique physical characters. The American race ia
obviously tending to extinction.

Malay Race.

The Mauy variety of mankind are characterised by
tawny or dark-brown skins, coarse black hair, large
mouth, short broad noses,
seeming as if broken at
the root, flat expanded
faces, with projecting up-
per jaws, and salient
teeth. The skull in this
race is high, and squared
or roundel, and the fore-
head low and brood. The
moral character of tho
Malays, generally speak-
ing, is of an inferior order.
They are a race differing
much in some respects
from the Negro and Red

Indian, being of peculiarly active temperaments, and
fond of maritime enterprise. They exhibit considerable
intellectual capacity, and are an ingenious people.
Borneo, Java, Sumatra, the Philippine Islands, New
Zealand, part of Madagascar, and various Polynesian
islands, are inhabited by this variety of men. It is
extremely probable, from the fact of their being found
in islands surrounded by others in the hands of the
Ethiopic race, that the Malays have pushed out the less
active variety from these isles, and, in short, annihilated
them. It is but too likely, moreover, that the Malaya
will in turn suffer extinction at the hands of a superior
variety, or a variety rendered superior by civilisation,
if not naturally so,

OBAMBSBtf S nrrOBMAlFtOlir foil DBS f SOI>t£.

smatBimoN of ihk iucbb— aualgahaiions and ex-
tinctions.
Thif point, really one of the rnort ourioua and im-
portant connected with man's physical history, may be
illustrat«d by further references to the changes in geo-
graphictil position undergone by the five great varieties
of mankind now described from the earliest periods.
Very few portions of the earth have retaiiied the inha-
bitants by whom they are known to have been first
peopled. With respect to Europe, it seems extremely
probable, as Dr Prichard and otliers admit, that the
Celtic and Germanic races were not the earliest settlers
upon its territory. They pushed out, from some parts
at least, a previous race, of which the Fins and Lap-
landers may perhaps be held to give us some idea.

As to this early Celtic migration, it may be worth
while to adduce the view of its details which is given
by one of the more modern and enlightened ethnogra-
phers, Dr Charles Meyer. The Celtic nation is regarded
by this writer as, ' owing to its migratory habits and
instincts, one of the most widely-spread of all the na-
tions of ancient and modem history, having at various
periods covered with its settlements, and perhaps even
simultaneously possessed, a space of country extending
from the Pillars of Hercules [Oibraltar] to Asia Minor
and beyond the Caspian,' ' It seems to r i,' says Dr
Meyer, ' that the Celtic nation transported itself from
Asia, and more particularly from Asiatic Scythia, to
Europe and to this country by two principal routes,
which it resumed at different epochs, and thu^ fanned
two great streams of migration, flowing, as it were, pe-
riodically. The one, in a south-western direction, pro-
ceeding through Syria and Egypt, and thence along the
northern coast of Africa, reached Europe at the Pillars
of Hercules ; and passing on through Spain to Oaul,
here divided itself into three branches, the northern of
which terminated in Great Britain and Ireland, the
■outhern in Italy, and the eastern, running aloT'.j; the
Alps and the Danube, terminated only near t'.ie Block
Sea, not far from the point where the whole itream is
likely to have originated. The other streai.-i, proceed-
ing in a more direct line, reached Europe at its eastern
limit, and passing through European Scythia, and from
thence partly through Scandinavia, partly along the
Baltic, through Prussia and through Northern Ger-
many, reached this countiy, and hence to the more
western and northern islands across the German Ocean.
Of these two streams or lines of Celtic migration,
which, with reference to this country, wo may distin-
guish by the names of the weatem and eastern stream ;
the former, although the less direct, seems to be the
more ancient in history, and to have reached this coun-
try several centuries before the other. The principal
nations belonging to it are the Kettai of Spain (to
whom this name particularly refers) and the Qalli. . . .
As the nations and tribes of this western migration are
those to which the name of Celts and Gauls more par-
ticularly refers, so to them belong moat of those cha-
racteristics and institutions of the Celtic race — includ-
ing the important one of Druidisra — with which we are
made acquainted by .^e writings of CtBsar and Htrabo.
The language of the western Celts is in its most dis-
tinctive features represented by the British or Gallic
branch of the modern Celtic.

Of the nations and tribes of the eastern migration,
the most celebrated are the so-called Picti and Snoti,
who, from the close of the third century of our era,
have for a long period held a leading pluiie in the his-
tory of this island. . . , The time when the stream of
this eastern migration first reached this island seems
to have been the sixth century a.c, at which epoch, as
we learn from Herodotus (iv. 13), a general commotion
took place amongst the difiorent tribes and nations of
Asiatic Scythia, similar to that which 400 years later
became the primary cause of the great migration of the
Teutonic tribes in the fourth and fifth century. This
great commotion described by Herodotus, precipitating
the eastern on the western tribes, and extending itself |
8

through the Cimmerii, who then inhabited the shorM of
the Caspian, to European Scythia, finally brought tlie
eastern Celts, in the central parts of Europe, into con-
tact with the western, one of the results of^ which event
was the incursion of the Galli into Italy.' *

It has been seen that this great wave of colonisation,
not itself the first, was afterwards followed by another
composed of the Germanic tribes. Dr Prichard con-
siders it most probable that this new influx also came
in two streams, one proceeding through the regions to
the north of the Caspian, and the other across the Hel-
lespont, Of late years, some curious light has been
brought to bear upon the early history of these peoples,
from the many tombs and tumuli scattered through
the north of Asia, In these are found implements and
ornamental articles, with which scholars endeavour to
associate different sets of people, referred to three dif-
ferent eras, ' The oldest are the relics of a people with
round heads, having the transverse diameter of the
cranium large in proportion to the longitudinal. The
implements and ornaments which are found in the
tombs of this race indicate the greatest rudeness. They
consist of tools and the heads of arrows and lances
made of stone and bone, but nothing indicating a
knowledge of the use of metals. Whether these oldest
tombs were the sepulchres of a Celtic race, is a question
not yet decided. It seems to be the opinion of Retzius
and that of Nilsson, who has written a learned work on
the antiquities of Scandinavia, that they were the
burial-places of a people much, older than the Celts.
Similar remains more recently discovered in France
have been supposed by MM, Robert and Serres to be
referrible in like manner to different eras, but to what
successive races they respectively belonged is as yet
only matter of conjecture. It seems, however, to have
been observed in many parts of Europe, that the skulls
which, from their situation, and from the ruder cha-
racter of the implements and ornaments buried with
them, may be supposed to have belonged to the most
ancient class, are of a rounder and broader form than
the crania discovered in tombs of a later date ; and
this observation tends to support the notion entertained
by many persons, that the west of Europe had inhabi-
tants previously to the arrival of Celtic cclonies, and
that these earliest people belonged to a family of dif-
ferent physical characters from those of the Indo-
European race, and were more nearly allied to the
nations of Northern Asia.'

The Celtic population of the south of Europe were
in a great measure overwhelmed by the Germanic tide
from the north, and though centuries of confusion fol-
lowed the collision, the good ultimately effected by the
intermixture was immense. It appeared, indeed, as if
a savage people there crushed a civilised one, but the
result, in reality, consisted in tho infusion of healthy
blood into a vitiated frame. At this day there is but
one important part of Europe in the hands of the pure
Mongolian race — namely, Turkey. But at this very
hour the once formidable ])nwer of the Ottomans appears
verging to extinction. The Caucasian states around
it have gradually seized province after province, and
jealousy of each other has alone prevented them, on
various recent occosions, from annihilating the petty
remnant of the Mongols left in Europe, The power of
the empire is not only going to decay, but, as M, La-
martine has lately shonn, the Turks are in reality be-
coming extinct as a people. They are sinking beneath
the pressure of the superior or superiorly - cultivated
nations around them.

In Africa, the Negroes have already been stripped of
a large portion of their continent by the Syro- Arabian
and Eurojiean nations, and are likely to be ultimately
extinguished by them. If the climate of the same great
country had been more favourable to the whites than
it is, they would assuredly have taken a larger share
in the occupation of it than they have done. As tho
case stands, their aggressions have been considerable.

* Dr Meyer on the Celtic Langunfc, Dop, Brtt. Assoc. 1847.

lited tha ihorti o{
lallj brought tlie
Europe, into con-
its of which event

re of colonisation,
lowed by another
Dr Prichard con-
influx also came
igh the rcaions to
sr across the Hel-
t light has been
r of these peoples,
icattered through
I implements and
iars endeavour to
irred to three dif-
9 of a people with
diameter of the
ngitudinal. The
,re found in the
it rudeness. They
rrows and lances
ing indicating a
ether these oldest
race, is a question
ipinion of Retzius
L learned work on
t thpy were the
r than the Celts.
>T@red in France
and Serres to be
eras, but to what
longed is as yet
however, to have
e, that the skulls
1 the ruder cha-
ents buried with
igod to the most
oader form than
later date ; and
ation entertained
rope had inhabi-
tic cdonies, and
a family of dif-
of the Indo-
ollied to the

of Europe were

Germanic tide

confusion fol-

effected by the

cd, indeed, as if

ed one, but the

ision of healthy

"ay there is but

lids of the pure

ut at this very

tomans appears

states around

province, and

anted them, on.

iting the petty

The power of

but, as M. La-

e in reality be-

nking beneath

)rly - cultivated

eeii stripped of
5 Syro- Arabian
be ultimately
the same great
itt whites than
a larger share
done. As the
1 cousidcrablc,

t. Assoc. 1847.

t>HTSIOAL HIBTOBT OV HAK-ETHKOLOOT.

Kot to speak of their coast stations, they have colo-
nised the southern extremity of Africa, and the Cafires
and Hottentots are falling before them, or are receding
to the interior, t'^ be finally crushed between the -
posing forces of ' . .\rabs and Europeans.

In Asia, xv raering Mongols long held extensive
rule; but the >'i-Caucasian power of Russia in the
north, and t'.i .'iritish in the south, have torn from
them immense territories, and every few years behold
addition'tl losses on their part. Even at this time,
the a;reat Mongol power of China, which, by a policy
cautious to an extraordinary degree, maintained for
ages its independence, has been obliged to yield an
admission to European settlements, which may be re-
garded as only the first footsteps of an invasion by
which their power will be overwhelmed.

The truth of the view now taken is more remarkably
borne out by the history of the Transatlantic continent
than by that of any other country. Rapidly indeed
have the Red Men of North America fallen before the
inarch of Caucasian colonisation. The numerous islands
of the Mexican Qulf have been so completely cleared
of all traces of native population, that it has become a
matter of doubt whether, on several of these islands,
any native population ever existed. South America
has been largely subjected to the same influences, and
would have suffered more from them, had the Cauca-
sians who went thither been a branch specially adapted
for the business of colonists, and had not a consider-
able admixture of races peculiarised that colonisation.
As it is, the natives have been thinned, though the
amalgamation alluded to, arising from the comparative
similarity between the races, renders the truth difficult
of discovery. In short, if we look at the whole course
of the past history of mankind, we shall find the Cau-
casian race through some of its families everywhere
gaining the ascendancy, and slowly but surely reno-
vating the population of the world.

In those instances where an amalgamation of varie-
ties of men has taken place to a considerable extent
(and there are a few prominent cases of the kind to
be observed at present on the face of the globe), a
people of a heterogeneous kind has been the result.
In parts of South America and Mexico, not only Eu-
ropeans and native Americans, but also Negroes and
Malays, transported thith3r chiefly as slaves, have
contributed to form the existing population. Euro-
peans and Negroes produce a race called Mulattoes;
the children of Europeans and native Indians are
termed Mestizoes; and those of Negroes and In-
dians are styled Zamboes. Of course the sub-
varieties are numerous — indeed almost numberless.
The European and the Mulatto produce Terceroiis;
the children of the Terceron and the European are
called Quarterons or Quadroon ; and those of Qua-
droons and Europeans are Quinterons. In the Qua-
droon, little or no vestige of dark blood is visible; but
in most countries where these admixtures take place,
the rights of pure white blood are only assigned to the
Quinteron. Mexico, and the greater part of the states
of the South American continent, including Peru, Chili,
and Brazil, xrith the colonies and islands of the West
Indies, are the chief scenes of these amalgamations of
blood. Undoubtedly their immediate consequences are
pernicious. The white blood is everywhere haughtily
disposed towards the dark, and all the jealousies and
oppressions ofcuste are accordingly displayed to a dread-
ful extent. Whether, out of the numerous varieties
and sub-varieties of species there at present to be be-
held, one perfect and homogeneous race shall ever be
formed, is rendered doubtful by the urdiminished, if
not increased, eagerness with which the purity of the
white blood continues to be maintained. If we could
suppose that the amalgamations of different varieties of
mankind were never to produce happier consequences
than in these instances, we might question whether such
admixtures be desirable. The experiments of amalga-
mation and non-amalgamation may be said to have
been tried on great scales in the two American conti-

nents, and it is of importance to notice the inne in the
respective cases. In North America, we must ere
long find the aborigines extinct; and in the place of
hordes of savages, stationarily pursuing the wild and
warring life led by their fathers from time immemorial,
will be found a great and improving race, cultivating
the arts of peace, carrying civilisation to the highest
pitch, and extracting from their vast continent aU the
physical blessings with which the Creator has so libe-
rally endowed it, and which He certainly meant not
to he unused.

niFFERENCEg IN ANATOHICAt STRUCTURE.
The Skin.

It has been already seen, that the Caucasians are
generally distinguished by a white or fur skin, while
the Mongolians are yellow, the Ethiopians black, and
the Americans red or copper-coloured: — The black races
are localised in the warmest regions of the globe, and
their skin and constitution are fitted for their allotment.
A black man can lie exposed to the hottest sun, without
injury, while the skin of the white man, if exposed to
similar heat, breaks out in blisters. The black man can
labour under a burning sun with impunity; but the
white sinks under exertion made in such circumstances;
and this is well known to be the cause why slaves were
introduced from Africa into the settlements of Euro-
peans in tropical America. Sir Everard Home, who
made some laborious investigations into this subject,
was puzzled by the obvious physical fact, that the black
skin must absorb more heat than the white. But it has
since been suggested by Dr John Davy that the black
perspires most readily. ' In the Negro,' he says, ' the
blood flows more readily through the vessels, so as to
promote perspiration, and by that means contributing
to the cooling of the surface, it contributes again, when
it flows back to the heart, to the cooling of the internal
parts.* After quoting this remark, Dr Olover of New-
castle says — ' Were the inhabitant of the tropic not
possessed of this organisation, his system could not re-
spond to the stimulus of heat, by a determination of
fluid to the surface of the body ; and the heat absorbed
by the skin being prevented from entering the system
by the perspiratory process, the greater radiating power
of a dark skin must be beneficial in cooling. Again,
the dark skin places the Negro in the conditions of his
climate, by causing him to radiate heat at night, and
become at that time cooler than a w^hite under the same
circumstances.' Hence the love of the Negroes for
night dancing and exercise.

In former times, when only two varieties, the white
and black, were recognised or thought of, it was sup-
posed that complexion was simply a result of the ac-
tion of the sun's rays. This idea would naturally arise
from its being observed that exposure to the sun dark-
ened a white person, while seclusion tended to bleach
or whiten him; and that the black nations were those
which chiefly occupied tropical countries, while the
whites were placed in the temperate zone. The views
of naturalists on this subject were recently disturbed by
the investigations of M. Flourens concerning the actual
structure of the coloured skin.* The white was repre-
sented as having a skin composed of three integuments.
First, the outer or scarf-skin, a thin transparent pel-
licle, seemingly secreted by the parts below, and de-
void of recognisable vessels or nerves ; next below the
rete mucosum, a soft pulpy net-work; next, or under-
most, the cutis or true skin, a strong layer, abun-
dantly vascular, and very sensible. It was supposed
that the colouring matter of the dark races lay in
the rete miUtosum, and that the only difierence be-
tween the two races in that respect lay in the one
having a mucous integument charged with globules
of colouring matter, and the other a mucous integu-
ment in which there were no such globules. Flourens
asserted the difierence to be considerably greater. Ha

* On the Natural History of Man. By M, Flourens, Edin-
burgh New Philosophicsl Journal, July 1839.

CHAMBEBS'S DTFOBHATIOST FOB THE PEOPLE.

■UtM that, In
upoD the ikiua

a raffieient variety of ex^erimflnti
of Negroos and red Aniericani, he
found beneath the rete mueotum two distinct
additional kyen, capable of being detached, and
the outer of which ii the true seat of the colour of
those races. The discoverer considers this as a diffe-
rence much more important than any depending on
form. Being a structural difference, he thinks it should
be held as one of the first class, while differences
of shape ought only to bo considered as secondary.
Without following him in these speculations, we mav
readily allow the importance of a peculiarity which
consists in a distinct and additional part. M. Flou-
rens, it may be remarked, has found the two layers also
in Mulattoes. Ue had not had an opportunity of ex-
perimenting upon Mongolians or Malayans; but he in-
fers from the other cases that in them also the extra
integuments would be found.

M. Flourens adds, that in the case of Europeans
tinged by exposure to the sun's rays, the mucous web
is what is affected, becoming, as it were, slightly dyed.
No degree of exposure can, he thinks, confer the co-
louring layers of the Negro and other dark races.
He remarks, that the African Moors, who have lived
beside the Negroes for centuries, have never acquired
the colouring apparatus of that race ; and it has been
observed by travellers (Captain Lyon among others)
that the Tuariks, a race of African Caucasians, of a
dark-brown complexion, are nearly as white on those
parts of their bodies covered up from the sun, as most
Europeans. It is also well known that the progeny of
a European, however much he may have been tinged
by the sun of a tropical climate, is invariably as white
u he himself was at first.

M. Flourens deems the difference of structure be-
tween the white and coloured races as sufficient to
prove that they are of different stocks, and he accord-
ingly speaks of them as 'essentially distinct races.'
But there are some considerations which greatly con-
found all such conclusions, as drawn from differences
of colour alone. Colours, it is to be observed, are not
invariable characteristics of particular races. Most
Caucasians, it is true, are white; but then there are
also black Caucasians. The Hindoos are undoubted
Caucasians, being proved to be so by many characters
of form, a« well as by the infallible test of language ;
yet the Bengalees and Malabars, varieties of the Hin-
doos, are oftien as black as the generality of Negroes.
Caucasians of similar colour are spread through Persia
and Western Asia, into Northern Africa. It has indeed
been said that the Hindoo branch of the Caucasians
alone includes every variety of colour, from the deepest
black to something very nearly white. There are simi-
lar variations in at least one of the other four racos.
* Although the Americans,' says Dr Morton, ' possess a
pervading and characteristic complexion [which he de-
scribes as more brown or cinnamon-coloured than red],
there are occasional and very remarkable deviations,
including all the tints from a decided white to an wn-
equivocaUy black »kin.' The white tribes have been
found chiefly in the high regions in the northern part
of South America. These facts are themselves suffl.
cient to show that the colour cannot be, as represented
bv M. Flourens, an essential or specific distinction; and
their purport is confirmed by some more recent investi-
gations, which result in showing the so-called rete mueo-
tum as nothing but an inner layer of the epidermis,
liable to continual renewal as the outer is worn away,
just like the bark of the tree. The hue of the Negro is
now believed to depend on the presence oi' colouring
matter in the cells of the epidennis itself, and to be a
variable phenomenon, exactly like the appearance of
freckles under the influence of sunlight.

I Hair and Eyes.

The hair is a strong individual characteristic in man.
Its colouring principle is evidently the same, speaking
comprehensively, with that of the skin. The hairs
issue from bulbs or roots beneath the true skiu, where

vessels supply them with nourishmont. An external
homy covering, and an int(?rnal pith, constitute th«
body of each hair, and the pUh ii> to some extent vas-
cular, because liable to disease, ^t is doubtless in this
vascular pith that the colouring principle lies. The
fact of the pith being supplied both with vessels and
nerves, is further proved by the effect which great erief
can produce upon the colour of the hair. Dr Pricnard
had personally observed one case in which the hair
grew v-hite in a single night through grief, and many
similar cases are on record. One distinguished French
anatomist went so far as to assert, that in the bulbs of
the hair lay the whole colouring matter of the skin:
but admitting that minute hairs exist on the general
frame, we could not thus explain the black hue of the
inside of the Negro's lip, which is free from hair.
However, when we consider that the woolly hair is
usually connected with the jetty skin of the Negro, and
the lank straight hair with the red skin of the Indian,
we must believe in the existence of some strong bond
between these physical characteristics.

In like manner do we tittce a general correspondence
between the colour of the eye and the skin and hair.
The hue of the eye depends on a pigment or dye, lining
the choroid coat or membrane. According to the tint
of this pigment, is the eye blue, gray, brown, hazel, or
black. Generally 8peaKinj|, light - coloured eyes are
conjoined with fair complexion and light hair, and the
converse holds as commonly good. To this rule, it is
well known, there are exceptions; yet Mongols, Ethio-
pians, Malays, and Americans, in ninety-nine cases in
the hundrecf, show the extent of its applicability. The
Caucasians display in this respect greater variations.

Albinoes are individuals whose peculiarities depend
on defects. Rod eyes and white hair < are their chief,
features, though these features vary a little according
to the race to which the individual belongs; and there
are Albinoes to be found in almost all countries. The
rednes^of the eye depends on the absence of pigment
on the choroid coat, permitting the red blood-vessels
to be seen. From a deficiency in the power of absorb-
ing the rays of light, which purpose is served by the
pigment, the eyes of Albinoes are weak. The Albinoes
of the black race are called white Negroes, from the
colour of their skin, and they have white woolly hair.
Among the copper-coloured natives of the Darien isth-
mus, Albinoes are common. Their bodies are of a
milk-white tint, covered with a short down; and they
have white hair, with red eyes. They love such light
as the moon gives, and by night are all life and activity,
while by day they are miserable, the rays of the sun
making their weak eyes stream with water. The con-
nection between skin, hair, and eyes, and the unity of
the source of colour for all these ports, is very strik-
ingly exemplified by the peculiaritius of the Albino.

Skulls and Iloads.

As, beyond all doubt, we ought to consider the form
of the skull as in some degree indicative of the intel-
lectual powers, the distinctions in this organ necessarily
become of great importance. The most perfect type of
the Caucasian skull was alleged by Blumenbach to be
found in the modern Caucasians-proper, such as the
Georgians. ' The head [of a female Georgian, described
bv the philosopher] is of the most Bvmmetrical shape,
almost round ; the forehead of moderate extent ; the
cheek-bones rather narrow, without any projection, but
having a direction downwards, from the malar process
of the frontal bone ; the alveolar edge well rounded ;
the front teeth of each jaw placed perpendicularly.'

The head of the perfect Mongolian type is described
by Blumenbach as 'almost square; the cheek-bones pro-
jecting outwards; the noso flat; the nasal bones, and
the space between the eyebrows, iieaHy on the same
horizontal plane with the cheek-bones; the superciliary
arches scarcely to be perceived ; the nostrils narrow ;
the maxillary pit sliehtly marked; the alveolar edge in
some degree rounded forwards; the chin slightly pro-
minent.'

PHYSICAL HISTORY OF MAN-ETHNOlOOY.

it. An extemtti
1, coiutitute tha
Home extent tm-
doubtlera in this
iciple liea. Tlie
with ve«iel« and
nrhich great grief
ir. Dr Pricnard
which the hair
grief, and many
Dguished French
i in the bulbs of
iter of the skin ;
t on the goneml
>lack hue of the
free from hair,
i woolly hair i»
f the Negro, and
n of the Indian,
mo strong bond

1 correspondence
I skin and hair,
nt or dye, lining
iing to the tint
brown, hazel, or
loured eyes are
ht hair, and the
o this rule, it ia
Mongols, Ethio-
ty-nine cases iu
ilicability. The
er variations,
iliarities depend
>are their chief
little according
ongs; and there
countries. The
ince of pigment
^d blood-vessels
ower of absorb-
served by the
The Albinoes
^oes, from the
itc woolly hair,
he Darien isth-
odies are of a
own; and they
love such light
fe and activity,
kys of the sun
ter. The con-
id the unity of
is very strik-
the Albino.

lider the form

of the intel-
;an necessarily
>erfect type of
tenbach to be

such OS the
ian, described
etrical shape,

extent ; the
rejection, but
iialar process
'ell rounded;
licularly.'

is described
ek-bones pro-
I bones, and
on the same
I superciliary
;rilB narrow ;
eolar edge iu
slightly pro-

'n me Ei'viopic rarietv of men, 'the head la narrow,
and comprised at the sides; the forehead very convex,
vaulted; the cheek-bones projecting foneardt; the
nostrils wide ; the maxillary pita deeply marked at
points; the jaws considerably elongated ; tho alveolar
edge narrow, long, and elliptical; the front teeth of the
upper jaw turned obliquely forwards ; the lower jaw
atruiig and large.'

In the American skull there is an approach in shape
to that of the Mongol, with this difiereuoe, that the top
ia more ro:<.nded, and the sides less angular. The sum-
mit of tho Malay head is narrowed, the forehead a little
arched, and the upper jaw pushed somewhat forward.
It would bo superfluous to enumerate here the parti-
cular tribes marked by these varieties of skulls, aa this
haa been done with sufficient distinctness in tho general
classilication of the races. Of course, among Cauca-
Mongols, and Negroes, there are considerable

individual differences in thn form of the head, but the
preceding descriptions give the type of each division.

The remarkable contrast in the prominency of the
facial bones, conjoined, as H commonly is, with an
equally striking difference in the anterior development
ot tho skull, has been deemed by some physiologists a
feature of the highest importance. Camper founded on
these physical characters a scheme for estimating the
degrees of intellect and sagacity bestowed by nature on
the whole members of the animal kingdom possessing
a skull and brain. The facial angle, as he termed the
degree of prominency in the facial bones, was measured
by him in the following way : — One straight line was
drawn from the ear to the base of the nose, and another
from the prominent centre of the forehead to the most
advancing part 3f the upper jaw-bone, the head being
viewed in profile. ' In the angle produced by these
two lines,' says tho physiologist, ' may be said to con-
sist not only the distinction between the skulls of the
several species of animals, but also those which are
found to exist between different nations; and it might
be concluded that nature has availed herself at the
same time of this angle to mark out the diversities of
the animal kingdom, and to establish a sort of scale
from the inferior tribes up to the most beautiful forms
which are found in the human species. Thus it will
be found that the heads of birds display the smallest
angle, and that it always becomes of greater extent in

Eroportion as the animal approaches most nearly to the
uman figure. Thus there is one species of the iQ>e
tribe in which the head has a facial angle of forty-two
degrees; in another animal of the same family, which
is one of those $mice approaching most closely to the
human figure, the facial angle contains exactly fifty
degrees. Next to this is the head of the African Negro,
which, as well as that of the Kalmuc, forms an angle
of seventy degrees, while the angle discovered in the
heads of Europeans contains eighty degrees. On this
differeiico of ten degrees in the facial angle the superior
beauty of the European depends; while that high cha-
racter of sublime beauty, which is so striking in some
works of ancient statuary, as in the head of the Apollo,
and in the Medusa of Tisocles, is given by an angle
which amounts to one hundreil degrees.'

Dr Prichard, in quoting this passage, remarks, that
* the faculties of each race of animals seem to be per-
fect in relation to the sphere of existence for which
they are destined;' and hence, in as far as the mea-
surement of the facial angle is applied to the detenni-
nation of the comparative intellectual chbracters of dif-
ferent tribes of the lower animals, he holds Camper's
scheme to be imperfect and ineffective. As a method
of distinguishing varieties in the shape of the actual
cerebral case, moreover, the measurement of the facial
angle is not always a safe guide. * I have now before
ine,' says Blumenbach, ' the skulls of a Lithuanian
Pole and a Negro, in which the facial angles are nearly
equal, but the difference between the Bha])e of the two
crania ia otherwise prodigious.' Nevertheless, as a
general test of the mental capacity of individuals, * I
think,' says Prichard, ' wc must allow tLat experience

ii in AkTOur of the position assumed by CaibpAf. It is
certain that erenr man is struck with the expression of
dignity or elevation of mind and character in the an-
cient busts, whidi have a great facial angle, and that
this expression would be lost if the facial sjigle were
contracted. The fact seems indeed to be a general
one, that men of great intellvct have fully-developed
brains, as indicated by elevated and capacious fore-
heads.' Since the time of Camper, it is scarcely neces-
sary to tell the reader, the subject of cra.niology has
been amply investigated by Dr Call and his followers,
who have founded upon their ini^uiries a system of
mental philosophy (Phrenology), in a great measure
new to the world, and of which the fundamental prin-
ciple is, that the size and form of the skull, as depend-
ing on the size and form of the brain within, denote,
other circumstances being equal, the intellectual and
moral character.

Having obtained a considerable number of the skulls
of the various races of men, Dr Morton measured their
internal capacity by means of white pepper seed, and
found the following results : —

Moan

Baces.

No. of
skulls.

internal
capacity
in cublo
inches.

Largest in
the aeries.

Smallest In
the series.

I. Caucasian, - -

109

2. Mongolian, -

.93

3. Malay, - - •

119

4. Aboriginal Ame-

rican, • -

147

100

S. Kthlopinn, • -

2!»

It thus appears that the aboriginal Americans rank
fourth with respect to the size of their brains, the
Ethiopians being lowest and the Caucasians highest.

This result is certainly the precise one to be expected,
considering the capacity of the cranium as an index of
intellectual power. The Caucasian race, which stands
highest in the scale, is that which has produced the
most civilised nations; while the Mongolian, the next
in order of capacity of cranium, has produced a num-
ber of nations which remain at a fixed point in semi-
civilisation. The Malay is a degree more barbarous, and
the American and Ethiopian the most barbarous of all.

The physical characteristic now under consideration
varies considerably among the white nations or Euro-
peans. The Turks, who, though originally a Mongol
race, have had their primitive physical attributes mo-
dified by continual intermixtures with Greeks, Geor-
gians, and Circassians, present a form of skull combin-
ing, apparently, the mingled characters of the two
varieties. The square Mongolian head has been rounded
off in their case, and we find it to be now almost a per-
fect globe. The Greek head approaches the same shape.
It was loii<,' asserted that the globularity of the Turkish
head resulted from artificial compression in infancy,
but modem physiologists discredit this notion. 'A
single glance at the Turkish head,' says Mr Lawrence,
' at the symmetrical and elegant formation of the whole
fabric, the nice correspondence and adjustment of all
parts, the perfect harmony between the cranium and
face, in all the details of each, demonstrate most une-
quivocally that it is a natural formation, and a very
fine work of nature, too.' The writer now quoted
proceeds also to remark, that, although no sufficiently
extensive examinations have yet been made, the pro-
bability is, that between the European nations, such as
the Germans, Swiss, Swedes, French, and others, dis-
tinct differences in the shape of the skull would cer-
tainly be found to exist on inquiry. Mr George Lewis
observed in travelling on the continent, that the French
have the lower and anterior parts of the cranium large,
while the upper and anterior region is more prominent
in the Germans. The Italian head, though compara-
tively small for the most part, is marked by great ele-
gance. The Jews have long been noted for the fine
Caucasian shape of their heads.

CHAHBEBS'S INFOBMATIOK FOB THE PEOPLI!.

th Priohud aTowi the opinion that the form of the

head ii leu a feature of race*, than an indication of

(taf^ee in oiriliiation. He intimatei, but in a very

general way, and without pretending to make the ob-
servation aa one which holds witliout many exceptions,

' that there are in mankind three principal varieties in

the form of the head and other physical characters,

which are most prevalent respectively in the savage or

hunting tribes, in the nomadic or wandering pastoral

races, and in the civilised and intellectually-cultivated

divisions of the human family. Among the rudest

tribes of men, hunters and savage inhabitants of forests,

dependent for their supply of food on the accidental pro-
duce of the soil or the chase, among whom are the most

degraded of the African nations and the Australian

savages, a form of the head is prevalent which is most

aptly distinguished by the term prognathous, indicat-
ing a prolongation or extension forward of the jaws. . . .

A second shape of the head, very different from the

last -mentioned, belongs principally to the nomadic
races, who wander with their hocks and herds over vast
plains, and to the tribes who creep along the shores of
the icy sea, and live partly by fishing, and paftly on
the flesh of their reindeers. These nations have brood
and lozenge-formed faces, and what I have termed
pyramidal skulls. . . . The most civilised races, those
who live by agriculture and the arts of cultivated life,
all the most intellectually-improved nations of Europe
and Asia, have a shape of the head which differs from
both the forms above-mentioned. The characteristic
form of the skull among these nations may be termed
oval or elliptical. . . . There are numerous instances
of transition from one of these shapes of the head to

another, and these alteratiois have taken place in portion, and yet they possess physical powers of the

).' ' 'most perfect kind. The Hottentot and the American

nations who have changed their manner of life.

It should not be omitted that many of the tribes of
North and South America are so partial to low and
retreating foreheads, that they have long been in the
habit of assisting nature in producing that form of the
head. The comparative softness of Uie osseous texture
at birth, and the partially mobile state of the cranial
sutures, enable them to effect this object. 'The
Caribbs,' says Labat, in his account of a voyage to the
isles of the Caribbean Sea, ' are all well made and pro-
portioned ; their features are sufficiently agreeable,
excepting the forehead, which appears rather extraor-
dinary, being very flat, and, as it were, depressed.
These people are not bom so, but they force the head
to assume that form, by placing on the forehead of the
newly-born child a small plate, which they tie firmly
behind. This remains until the bones have acquired
their consistence; so that the forehead is flattened to
that degree that they can see almost perpendicularly
above them without elevating the head.' The conse-
quence is, that the heads of these people, naturally
somewhat depressed in front, become hideously so; and
unnatural bulges behind show that the cerebral matter
has been forced into nev positions. The possibility of
changing the foi-m of the skull has been doubted by
some physiologists, but the cireumstaiice is authenti-
cated beyond all question. In Morton's Crania Anu-
ricana are delineated many specimens of skulls thus
altered in form, some so greatly changed by a pressure
which has been applied both before and behind, as to
lesemble half-moons. It is not necessarily to be in-
ferred that injury results either to the mental constitu-
tion or the general health of those who submit to this
process. _ Supposing the pressure to be slow and gentle,
the ductile organs will easily accommodate themselves
to it, and it is probable that the brain, as far as its
size or volume is concerned, will remain unaffected. A
skull in _ Dr Leach's possession, bearing the marks of
extraordinary compression, is known to have been that
of a Caribb chief distinguished for intelligence and
prudence.

The Teeth.

The general differences of features, accompanying
these variations in the shape of the skull, were pointed
IP

out in going over the great divisions of the human ratio.
The teeth of mankind differ very little in shape or posi-
tion. < The oblique position,' says Mr Lawrence, ' of
the anterior incisors m the Negroes, and some other
tribes who have prominent jaws, is the only national
difference I know of in teeth. Their size and form
exhibit merely individual differences.' The peculiarity
here alluded to appears very distinctly to be only an
effect of certain conditions, as it is found amongst our
own population, where the diet is low and defective,
and the general condition is unfavourable to the full
development of the human being.

PHYSICAL CHARACTEB.

The differences which exist among the races of man>
kind, with respect to Figure, Proportions, and Strength,
form a branch of the present subject not less interest-
ing than any yet noticed. It has long been attempted,
in the civilised regions of the world, to ascertain and
fix a standard of physical perfection for the human
body; and there certainly does seem to be a model,
the closest approach to which combines the quality of
pleasing the eye^with the possession of the greatest
degree of corporeal power and activity. Artists have
usually looked to the model-figures of the Caucasian!
of Greece, or, in other words, to their ancient statues,
aa exemplifying the finest possible proportions of the
human frame. But the taste of man varies so much,
and habit modifies to such an extent his physical powers,
that any standard of the kind alluded to must be open
to numberless objections and exceptions. If judgea of
by the common artistical standard of the civilised world,
certain races of men would be set down as out of pro-

perfect

savage will outrun wild animals, and hunt down the
deer ; the slim and ' effeminate Hindoo,' as we call
him, will keep up with the horse for days; and the South
Sea islander feels himself at home in a raging surf,
which would whelm a boat or vessel. Yet these races
depart widely in many cases from the Grecian model.
Such facts show that physical power is at least not
confined to men moulded after the Grecian artistical
standard, though it may be that individuals so moulded
would surpass in the exercises mentioned, with equal
training, those otherwise fashioned.

Stature and Proportiona

Different races of men exhibit considerable diversi-
ties of stature, though there are no varieties of stature
in different nations so remarkable as those which fre-
quently occur in the same family. The tallest race of
men, authentically known to exist, are the Patogonians,
a tribe occupying the coast of South America, between
the Rio de La Plata and the Straits of Magellan. The
territory occupied by them is of immense extent, and
they are probably migratory in habits ; hence a consi-
derable degree oi discrepancy in the accounts given of
them by different writers. Magellan's companions de-
clared the Patagoniaiis to be commonly about seven
feet four inches in height, English measure. Commo-
dore Byron saw and conversed with many companies of
them, and states that few were under seven feet, while
others were considerably above it. Nearly six feet high
himself, he could barely touch the top of a chief's head,
though standing on tip-toe. Captain Wallis, again,
having probably examined a different tribe, says that
the majority of the Patagonians seen by him averaged
from five foet ten to six feet, and that he only saw one
man so tall as six feet SRvon. By later and accurate
measurements, made by the Spaniards, we learn posi-
tively, that there are at least Patagonian tribes reach-
ing the average height of from six and a-half to seven
feet. Were they even somewhat less, they would be
decidedly the tallest race of men existing on the face
of the earth. All voyagers admit them to be large and
muscular in proportion to their height.

A people situated in the polar cireles of the north,
stand nearly at the other extreme of the scale as re*

t^HtBlOAt BIBTOBY OF HAK-ETHKOLOOY.

the ham&n raeo.
in (hape or poii>
Ir Lawrence, ' of
and lome other
le only national
' size and form
The peculiarity
y to be only an
nd amonnt our
r and defoctire,
ible to the full

le races of man.
i, and Strength,
at less interest,
been attempted,
> ascertain and
for the human
to be a model,
I the quality of
of the greatest
. Artists have
the Caucasians
incient statues,
iportious of the
varies so much,
ihysicai powers,

must be open
. If judged of
civilised world,

1 as out of pro.
powers of the

I the American '
liunt down the
)o,' as we call
; and the South
a raging surf,
et these races
Grecian model,
at least not
cian artistical
lis so moulded
)d, with equal

arable diversi-
ties of stature
ose which fre-
tallest race of
! Patagonians,
jrica, between
agellan. The
e extent, and
lence a consi-
unts given of
mpanions de.

about seven
re. Commo-
corapanies of
:n feet, while

six feet high
chief's head,
^allis, again,
>e, Buys that
lim averaged
only saw one
md accurate
B learn posi.
;ribc8 reach.

alf to seven
ey would be

on the face
be large and

f the north,
scale as re.

Iptcts stature. Th* Esquimaux, or at least some tribes
of them, are for the most part between four and five
feet in height, and their congeners the La]>s are also a
dwarfish race. The Ethiopio variety also numbers some
Tery small tribes, and in particular the Bosjesmans, a
race said to be also very commonly deformed. Among
the American nations there are also dwarfish tribes,
and in particular the natives of Terra del Fuego, near
noighbolirs of tho Putagouians,

These iiations only present us with the extremes of
the human race, as respects stature. The subject is
worthy of more minute investigation. It would '— ■•
highly interesting, and indeed instructive, to know the
coinparative average stature of each of the ordinary
varieties and subvarieties of mankind. Unfortunately,
the observations of naturalists resijecting stature have
not been carried far. Quetelet and others have atten-
tively examined the relative heights of individuals of
tittgle nations, at different ages, with a view to deter-
mine the general phenomena of man's growth ; but
few observations have been made upon the respective
heights of different races or nations. The stature of
the Caucasian has not been fully compared with that
of the Mongol, or the Negro, or the Red Indian; nor
have single nations belonging to any of these great
Taricties been satisfactorily contrasted with one an-
other, as respects height. No accurate comparisons,
for example, have yet been made of German with
Spaniard, of Briton with Frenchman, or, in fact, of
My one European nation with another. The follow-
ing table, exhibiting the comparative heights of a small
number of Englishmen and Negroes, is given in the
work of Mr Lawrence upon the ' Natur^ History of
Man.' The Negroes were from various regions.

An EnRllshman,
Ditto,
Ditto, .
Ditto,
Ditto, .
Ditto,
Ditto, .

The Caucasian here has considerably the advantage
of the Negro, the average height of the former class
being nearly 5 feet 9 inches, while the black averages
little above 5 feet 6 inches; and the advantage would
still be on the same side, were we to leave the first
Englishman, certainly a man of uncommon height,
entirely out of the reckoning. But it must be admitted,
that from such an insignificant amount of examples
no satisfactory conclusions can be draMm. The accounts
of recent travellers in Africa would lead one to ima-
pne that the majority of the Negro nations, excepting
in the case of a few particular tribes, such as the Bos-
jesmans, are not below tho Europeans in average height.
The Caucasians have indeed the advantage in one re-
spect; no tribe or section of them sinks so low in the
scale of altitude as some of the other races do.

The stature of the Chinese, who must be regarded as
amongst the purest specimens of the Mongol variety,
was accurately and extensively measured by Mr Rollin,
the surgeon who accompanied La Perouse. He found
the ordinary height of the natives of the great Isle of
Tchoka, on the east coast of China, to be Jive French
feet.* The natives of the mainland, near the same
region, measured 4 feet 10 inches (French). This
examination places the pure Chinese below the average
height of Europeans, and, we believe, correctly. Other
Mongol races have not been itccurately examined, with
a view to the point under consideration. In that variety
of mankind, however, as in the Ethiopic division, there
are individual races which stand much lower in the
scale of height than any Caucasian tribe. The Esqui-
maux and Fins prove this assertion.

The Americans also present great difibrences In
height; so much so, that it would be vain to attempt

* Tlie French foot slightly exceeds that of England, the pro-
portions of tho former to the latter being as 1066 to 1000.

to discover or itrike an vwtngp for the whoU Tu4«ty
— a variety which comprisM the giant Fatagoniant
and the dwarfs of Terra del Fuego. For determining
the heights of individual tribes of Americans, wo have
at present no better authority than the loose reports
of travellers. The same may be raid of the Malays;
and, such being the ease, it would be a waste of time
to attempt any comparative estimate having reference
to these races. Une conclusion may be drawn from
the little which we do know, and that is, that civilisa-
tion equalises the stature of mankind, and keeps it near
a steady mean. All the less cultivated races present
-^.'tremes not to be observed among the Caucasians.

Professor Forbes of Edinburgh haa made a series of
experiments upon the physical differences between
English, Scotch, Irish, and Belgians, the results of
which constitute the most interesting information we
are able to lay before the reader, wiUi respect to the
comparative heights of sub-varieties of the Caucasians.
The following is a table drawn up by Professor Forbes,
to exhibit the relative heights, at difierent ages, of the
students attending his class during a series cf years,
and belonging respectively to England, Scotland, and
Ireland. The Belgian measurements were probably
derived from other sources. The number of individuals
subjected to examination wai; very considerable, so
many as eighty Scotch and thirt;,' English being occa-
sionally measured at once. ' >

HeighU—FuH dimeniiont uiit,\ thoct,*

Stature.

Feet. In.

B 4i

A Negro,

. loi

6 1

Ditto, .

fi m

. 6

Ditto,

. a u

fi 01

Ditto. .

. fl 7

Ditto,

. a 74

5 4i

. 5

Age.

English.

Bcotoh.

Iriah.

Belgians.

Inches.

Inchea

Inches.

. 13

64-4

647

...

618

66S

66-8

...

87«

679

661

8»1

68S

68-7

678

6H-5

689

69-4

677

68-7

691

698

67-9

688

693

7(10

61H)

68 9

69-2

701

681

6«-9

69-3

70-8

68-8

68-9

69-3

70-8

68-8

68-9

69-3

70'8

68-3

This table places the Irishman "ppermost in the
scale of stature, the Scotsman second, the Englishman
next, and the Belgian lowest. The comparison seems
to be fair as regards the parties taken, for, if there
were any peculiarity in their condition as students, it
must have been common to all. As a comparison of
national heights, therefore, the table perhaps exhibits
conclusions pretty generally applicable, and we shall
find it borne out by similar comparisons of weight and
strength. Professor Forbes's observations are con-
firmed, in one point at least, by the following passage
in Quetolet's work upon Man: — ' When in England,
we chose the terms of comparison from rather higher
classes of socibty [ho has been speaking of English fac-
tory chUdrerk] : we find the stature of man rather higher
than in France or the Low Countries, at least for young
persons between eighteen and twenty-three years of
age.' Quetelet then alludes to eighty different mea-
surements of Cambridge students, taken in groups of
ten each. The average height of every ten was fiS feet,
or 5 feet 9 inches and 3-5th8 to each man. This is
above Professor Forbes's average; but as the English
universities are chiefly attended by the aristocracy,
who are undeniably a section of the people above the
average naticnal stature, it is probable that, as a na-
tional comparison. Professor Forbes's table approaches
nearest to the truth.

The table alluded to indicates the cessation of growth
to take place at twenty-two, the case of the Belgians
being the only exception. We learn from another of
the valuable inferences made by Quetelet from his in.
vestigations, thut the stature is materially influenced
by residence in town or country. ' The stature of the

* Half an inch may be reckoned as equivalent to tho shoe,

CHAUBEBS'S INFORMATION K)H IflE PBOPtfe.

inkkbituitt of towni, At the kg* of nineteon, ii gmttif
thui that of the country reeident bv 2 or 3 centimetrei.'
An exuninatiou, Mcompanied with vast labour, of not
lets than 3500 iudividuaJs living in towni, and (iOOO re>
aiding in the country, brought Quetelet to this conclu-
sion, which if therefore in all probability correct, aud
wilt be found to hold good in all tituatlonB. It wai
only at the age of nineteen, however, that the itature
of the towntmau waa found by (juetelet to exceed that
of the ruitic; and he conceives it possible, though it
was not in his power to obtain full proof on the subject,
that ' the inhabitant of the country may attain to u
greater height than the inhabitant of the town before
the completion of the full growth.' The truth is, that
circumstances greatly modify the rate at which the
vrowth is developed. The law of nature on the subject
IS thus stated by Quetelet : — ' The growth of the human
being, from several months before birth up till the
perlml of complete development, follows such a law cf
continuity, that the accessions of growth diminish regu-
larly in amount, in proportion to the age.' Here, of
course, eaL*h successive addition of growth is considered
relatively to the growth previously acquired. < Wo shall
fijid,' he says, ' that the child increases in size 2-5ths
from birth to the end of the iirst year; l-7th during the
second year; 1-llth during the third year; 1- 14th dur-
ing the fourth year; l-15th during tho fifth year; 1-1 8th
during the sixth year, and so on; the relative growth
always decreasing from the time of birth.' This simple
law of nature, however, is liable to be greatly affected in
its operation by circumstances. * Dr Villemie remarks,'
says Quetelet, ' that the height of man becomes greater,
and the growth takes place more rapidly, other circum-
stances being equal, in proportion as the country in-
babitud is richer, the comfort more ceneral, houses,
clothes, and nourishment better, and labour, fatigue,
and privations less during infancy and youth; or, in
other words, the circumstances accompanying misery
put off the period of the complete development of the
body, and stint human stature.' There can be no
doubt of the accuracy of these remarks. The simple
exposure to the action of cold, not to speak of toil, ma-
terially Influences the growth of man ; and we see this
proved, conversely as well as otherwise, in all the ex-
treme climates of the world. The warmth and luxury
of cities develop rapidly the growth of all but the
lowest classes. Our British gentry bear out fully the
conclusion of Quetelet, that ' individuals who onjoy
affluence generally exceed the mean height : hard la-
bour appears to be an obstacle to growth.'

Professor Forbes extended his inqulriei amonff hll
students, English, Scotch, and Irish, to bodily weight,
adding examinations of similwr, and also of mixed
classes of Belgians. The results were as follow : —

Weight in Poundi, iiteludiiv CMhei.

Weight of the Human Body.

The stature, weight, and strength of the human body,
form but parts of one and the same subject. P^aoh of
these properties or characteristics, if not dependent on,
is at least closely related to, both the others. As the
object here is to make the view of the species compre-
hensive rather than minute, it were to be wished that
the teeight of the body, among the various races of men,
hrA been inquired into with some attention by natu-
ralists. But, as in the case of the stature, this has yet
been done only to a very imperfect extent. Quetelet
has fully examined the comparative weight of the hu-
man body at different ages, and of differently placed
individuals in a single nation ; but no attempts have
been made to determine the comparative weights of
Mongol and Caucasian, or American and Negro. The
endeavour to do so would l>e attended undeniably with
vast trouble, and some may think the matter not worthy
of it. This, however, is not a correct view of things.
In all undertakings that require the exertion of physi-
cal energy, and more particularly in war, bodily weight,
it has now been clearly shown, is a most important
element; and, wherever the superiority in this respect
lies, thithaf will success, other circumstances being
eqaal, almost infallibly tend. An observation of the
various collisions of troops on the field of Waterloo,
whether of horse or foot, has been found to substantiate
this proposition. i

Belgians

Age.

EnglUh.

Sootob.

IrUlt.

(not mixwt
olawe*).

Iba.

lbs.

. lbs.

lbs.

Ill

lU'S

IIS

• ••

109

m-a

I9»

117-5

Lwa

133-5

13H

197

13U

lau

141-5

134

143

145-5

1395

144

146'5

149

143

140

1495

151

14ii'5

147-5

150

153

147

149

151

154

148-5

ISO

159

155

1495

159-5

155

ISO

Hero, again, the superiority lies with the Irish, the
others holding the same relative positions as in the
case of stature. The mixed classes of Belgians, in
whose case the weight of clothes was deducted, ranked
exceedingly low — 134 lbs. being about the average. We
have it in our power, fortunately, to compare the con-
clusions of Professor Forbes with those of other in-
quirers, in as far as the English and Belgians are con-
cerned. The eighty students of Cambridge, weighed
(with the clothes) in groups of ten, gave an average,
as we are informed by Quetelet, of 151 lbs. — the pre-
cise mean, it will be observed, of the Englishmen of
twenty-five years of age weighed by Professor Forbes.
The Cambridge students, however, were between eigh-
teen and twenty-three years old, and therefore the
Cambridge estimate is a little higher than that of Pro-
fessor Forbes, as it also was in the case of stature.
With respect to the weight of the Belgians, as examined
by Quetelet, he states that the mean weight of the
Cambridge students of eighteen and twenty-three much
exceeds that of Belgians of the same age, being nearly
the same as that of men of thirty in Brabant and the
other departments of Flanders.

The superiority of the Irish in point of stature and
weight is remarkable. We shall find it borne out by
a corresponding superiority in physical power, as shown
in the table of Professor Forbes having reference to
that characteristic.

Quetelet's conclusions respecting the weight of the
human being at various ages, and the general laws
regulating his growth in this particular, are nearly as
follows: — The mean weight of mole children at birth
is 3*20 kilogrammes.* The weight of female infants is
less, being 'J'Ol k. A child loses weight for the first
three days after birth, and does not make any decided
increase until about the seventh day. Ages being equal,
man generally weighs more than woman; but at the
age of twelve this is not the case. The sexes are then
nearly equal in this respect. The period of complete
development in man, as respects weight, is the age of
forty; woman, again, does not attain her maximum till
the age of fifty. According to observations made on
the most extensive scale in Belgium, the menu weight
of man at twenty-five is 62*93 k.; at the age of forty
(the maximum period), it is 63*7 k. The niean weight
of woman at twenty -five is S3'2 k.; at fifty (the maxi-
mum period), it is 56'I(i k.f The maximum weight of
the human being is nearly twenty times the sum of
his weight at birth. The mean weight of the human
being, neither sex nor age being taken into account, is
45*7 Ic. From the ages uf forty and fifty, men and
women begin respectively to sustain a decrease of
weight, from six to seven kilogrammes being the usual
loss before the close of life.

* A kilognunme is as nearly as possible 9 l-5th lbs. English.

t The mean weight, therefore, of man in Belgium, at the
maximum period, is little mora tlian 14U lbs. liogKsli. This 1$
much below the average of moo in Britain.

iiiriti ftroonff hli
o bodily weight,
i alio of mixed
tut follow : —

olhti.

PHYSICAL HI8T0BY OP MAN-ETHNOLOGY, .

Belglus

(not mlxMt

•

olawett.

lb*.

loa

117-fi

187

134

1395

143

14ii'S

147

148-5

1495

IJU

1 the Iriih, the
itions M in the
of Belgians, in
educted, ranked
ie average. We
mpare tne con*
BO of other in-
elgians are con-
>ridge, weighed
avo an average,
lbs, — the pre-
Gnglishmen of
rofessor Forbes,
between cigh- '
therefore the
ui that of Pro-
ise of stature,
IS, as examined
weight of the
tj-three much
), being nearly
abant and the

vf stature and

borne out by

)wer, OS shown

; reference to

weight of the
general laws
are nearly as
dren at birth
>ale infants is
i for the first
3 any decided
B being equal,
i; but at the
exes are then
of complete
is the age of
maximum till
>ns made on
mean weight
age of forty
iiiean weight
Y (the niaxi-
im weight of
the sum of
' the human
account, is
y, men and
decrease of
ig the usual

bs. Engliab.
glum, Bt the
[lioli. TblsU

BtrtDgth of Hon.

The strength of the human frame is a sul^ect which
has received much more attention than has been paid
cither to its weight or proportions. It is obviously,
indeed, a subject of the utmost momert, whether we
view it with reference to the comparative physical
powers of different races, or simply as u question inte-
resting to civilised man from its bearing on practical
mechanics. Various methods have been proposed for
determining accurately the strength resident in the
loins and arms of the human frame; and the instrument
called the d;/namometer, invented by Regnier, is that
most generally approved of and emplovea for the pur-
pote. The dynamometer, however, though used bpr
Quetelct, Professor Forbes, and others, in their experi-
ments, is allowed to be far from perfect, and it is only
by uncommon care and caution that results can be
obtained from it worthy of being depended on. It is
an instrument which cannot well be described in mere
words, and all that may be said of it hero is, that it is
so contrived as to indicate to the experimenter, on a
dial-plate, the physical power resident in the loins and
orms of the parties subjected to trial.

Observing the extraordinary displays of physical
power and energy frequently mode by savages, scientific
men were long of opmicn that civilisation diroininhed
the strength of the human frame. Other circumstances
tended to foster this belief. The Negro is possessed of
longer arms, or at least forearms, than the Caucasian,
holding in this respect, it is worthy of remark, a middle
place between the white and the ape, which latter crea-
ture has arms of great length. ' I measured,' says Mr
White, * the arms of about fifty Negroes, men, women,
and children, bom in very different climes, and found
the lower arm longer than in Europeans, in proportion
to the upper arm and height of the body,' The same
writer says that whites of 6 feet 4 inches, whom he
measured, hod shorter arms than Negroes of middle
size. Similar sources of physical superiority appeared
to voyagers to be posgexsed by the Pacific Islanders,
the Malays, and many other uncultivated races. But
more attentive observation has disproved the supposi-
tion. The voyager Peron took with him to the
southern hemisphere a dynamometer, with which he
experimented on the following number of individuals:
twelve natives of Van Diemen's Land, seventeen of
New Holland, fifty-six of the island of Timor (a fine
race of men), seventeen Frenchmen, and fourteen
Englishmen, The following, numbers express the
mean result in each cose, the strength of the arms and
loins being respectively put to the test. It is by lift-
ing a weight that the strength of the loins is tested
with the dynamometer: —

JlfMii Slrenglh.

Arms. Loins,
KUognunmcs. Myriogrammes,
SO-0

, ana lo-g

fiB7 u-6

, 69'9 IS'9

71'4 lC-3»

The highest power of arm shown by any of the Van
Diemen natives was 60; by the New Hollanders, 62;
while the lowest in the English trials was 63, and the
highest 83. In lumbar power, or that of the loins, the
highest point reached by a New Hollander was 13; the
lowest of the English was 127, and the highest 21*3.

* These results,' says Mr liawrence, ' offer the best
answer to the declamations on the degeneracy of man.
The attribute of superior strength, so boldly assumed
by the eubgists of the savage state, has never been
questioned or doubted. Although we have been con-
soled for this inferiority by an enumeration of the
many precious benefits derived from civilisation, it has

* Peron— Corrected Edition of his Voyages. (Tbemyriogmmnie
U nearly » lbs. EngUslii.)

1. Van Diemen natives,

2. New Hollanders,

3. TimoTlani,

4. Frenchmen,

5. BlnglUhmen, .

always been felt as a somewhat degrading disadvan-
tage. Bodily strength is a concomitant of good health,
which is produced and supjiorted by a regular supply
of wholesome and nutritious food, and by active occu-
pation. The industrious and well-fed middle cloAei of
a civilised community may be reasonably expected to
surpass in this endowment the miserable savages, who
are never well-fed, and too frequently depressed by
absolute want and all other privations.' Such is the
case, as Peron's experiments show. Rut indeed the
same thing is shown by a hundred historical facts.
The Spaniards, on their first visits to the New World,
ibund the natives much weaker than themselvei; and
this was proved not only by hand-to-hand struggles,
but by the labour of the mines, in which the Indians
were far deficient. The backwoodsmen of the States
have always shown themselves stronger in single com-
bats than the Indians. The Russians of Europe, also,
are said by Pallas to excel the Mongol tribes of the
empire to a remarkable extent in physical power.

Proper and extended comparisons are yet to be mode
of the relative ph vsical power of the various Caucasian
nations. The following table of Professor Forbes gives
us At least a glimpse at the oomparative strengths of
English, Scotch, Irish, and Belgians : —

Lumbar Strength <n Poumlt.

Ago.

English.

Scotch.

Iriah.

Belgians.

280

...

204

1«

336

314

• ..

S3S

3&3

340

369

260

364

360

389

280

378

.378

404

3D»

385

393

416

310

393

403

423

329.

397

410

427

330

4U1

417

430

403

421

431

337

4ft3

423

4,12

.139

The same relations are here preserved as in the pre-
vious tables, and as, with respect to weight and height
at least, there could be no mistake, the probability that
the last table is correct is much strengthened by the
conformity in question. Th.. difference between the
Irish and Belgians is immense, the former exceeding
the latter in strength by nearly one-fourth : while
between the English and Belgians there is also a
great difference, amounting to 62 lbs. The English, in
Peron's table, showed a lumbar strength equal to about
376 lbs., a point ccnsiderably below that of the English
in Professor Forbes's table. But we might expect
such a difference between Htudents and sailors, or stout
colonists, which latter classes were those examined by
Peron. Between the Sci •''ch and Irish the difference is
small comparatively. It is much to be wished that the
example of the Edinburgh professor were extensively
followed, both abroad and at home, so as to give us
satisfactory views of the relative physical powers of
the different European nations. Such questions, as
already hinted, will be found to bear more directly on
the prosperity of nations than has hitherto been com-
monly imagined.*

Regnier, the inventor of the common dynamometer,
was led to the conclusion, after many experiments, that
between the ages of twenty-five and thirty man is at
the maximum of his strength, and that he is then able,
by pressing strongly with both hands, to make an effort
equal to 50 kilogrammes, and to raise a weight of ] 3
myriogrammes. Man preserves (says the same ob-
server) much of his physical power nearly till the age
of fifty, when it dimini^es progressively. The experi.
ments of another Frenchman, M. Rausonnet, made upon
345 of his countrymen, sailors of the port of Havre,
give results somewhat different from those of Regnier.

* We have been informed that the mere physical power of the
different companies of men to whom the Uuko of Wellington
wa^ opposed in his campaigns, was always with him an object
t of serious consideration.

CHAMBBBffB INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

«fl

6-3

130

S'R

lAA

7»

• ••

101

lUnionnct found the mean manual pow« of tbeie men
to equal 46'3 kilograinmei; and the lumbar power, or
that of the loine, to amount to 14-2 mjrriograramei.
There ii eyery reawn to beliore, however, that the
particular mode of uiing the in»trument, employed by
each experimenter, la the cause of iuch diflcreiiuee ui
ita result!. Quetelet'e observations led to the following
onclusioni : —

Ltimbar Poarr of Mm and Womm.

Mi'n. Women.

j^, Myrlogrammet. Hyrlogrnmmet.

», . . . <0 Sfl

M, .

»,

i», ,

The highest point which the dyn.imomcter here gare,
for the power of the loins in Uelgian men, was 15'fl,
twenty-five being the age when the power reached this
maximum point. The conclusion agrees very closely
with that made by Peron on the French sailors of his
party, who exhibited a lumbar power equivalent to
15*2 myriogrammes, falling below that of the English,
which was J 63. Other observations, however, would
lead us to suppose that the diiTerenco is more in favour
of the British, when compared with the Oclgians, than
this calculation would indicate; and this would pro-
Itiably have appeared had Britons been tested under
Quetelet's own eye, and by his directions.

Leaving the question of comparative degrees of
strength, whether in varieties or sub-varieties of man-
kind, a word may be said respecting the extraordinary
physical powers which individtutl men of various na-
tions have occasionally evinced. Wo learn from his-
tory, that Milo, a Greek, could fell an ox with his tist,
and afterwards carry it home on his shoulders. Firmus,
a man who lived in later times, being bom in Seleucia
about the reign of the Emperor Aurelian, could suffer
iron to be forced on an anvil placed on his breast, his
body being then in the position of an arch, with only
the two extremities resting on supports. He exhibited
other feats of muscular strength, nearly all of which
were aucoessfully imitated during the past century by
a German named Van Eckeburg. This man sat down
on an inclined board, with bis feet stretched out against
a fixed support, and two strong horses were unable to
move him from his position. In imitation of Firmus,
he lay down, with his body in the form of an arch, and
allowed a stone, one foot and a-half long and one foot
broad, to be broken on his abdomen with a sledge-
hammer. He also stood on an elevated platform, and
by means of a rope round his waist, sustained the
weight of a large cannon, a burden for several horses.
A flat piece of iron was likewise twisted by him into
the form of a screw.

Dr Desaguliers, a scientific person who witnessed the
German's teats, showed, however, that skill was more
concerned in the mutter than mere strength. With
the aid oi' some friends, the doctor actually performed
many of the same feats, on the very night on which he
witnessed them. The simple sustaining of the stone,
it seems, was the chief difficulty in the most striking of
the experiments, as the breaking of it caused little addi-
tional annoyance; and in place of increasing, the arched
position of the body greatly diminished the shock of the
blows. In the case of many of the other feats, in like
manner, a skilful application of ordinary physical
powers was found competent to their accomplishment.
There appeared, nevertheless, about the same time with
the German, an Englishman, named Topham, who per-
formed equally wonderful feats by sheer strength, un-
aided by skill. He out-pulled a strong horse by main
force, though in attempting to pull against two, he ulti-
mately got himself hurt, being totally ignorant of the
contrivances which his German predecessor used in
aidance of his muscular powers. Topham rolled up
pewter plates with ease, and unrolled them; he struck
an iron poker, three inches in circumference and three
14

feet long, against his bare ri^ht arm, till ho bent it to a
riuht angle; he placed a similar poker against the buck
of his neck, and with a hand on each end, twisted it
round till the points met in front ; after which he pulled
it nearly straight again, his arms acting in a must
unfavourable condition while he did so; and filially,
among other feats, he lifted with his teeth, and held
out for a time, a strong table six feet long, with half a
hundredweight hanging at the farther extremity.

We have accounts of men performing more wonder-
ful feats than those of Topham, but they are either ill
authenticated, or seem to nave resulted aa much from
skill as strength, as in the case of the German. Top*
ham appears on the whole to hnvo been gifted with
physical powera aa remarkable as any that we can
Celieve any human being ever to have naturally pus<
seased, judging from the details on aucb luattera given
in merely aecular hiatury.

MENTAL CIlARACTEn.

It ia only a recapitulation of much which haa been
stated in tho earlier sections of this treatise, that great
differences of mental character are exhibited by the
various races of mankind. Tho black intertropical
nations generally are decidedly the lowest in the intel-
lectual scale. They are generally characterised by great
indolence, apathy, want of foresight and perseverance,
as well aa by sross barbarism and superstition. The
idea of a social community haa made but a small ad-
vance amongst them, though more amongst some tribea
than others. The lowest of the class are to be found
in Australia and some of the islands of the Pacific.
Yet there is scarcely any tribe of blacks so mean
but they possess certain traits of mbid calculated
to produce respect, being in some instances surprisingly
ingenious in fabricating particular articles of dress, or
in the management of canoea and the use of hunting
and warlike implements.

The red races of North America are a considerably
superior race to the Negroes. Their associations for
war and other purposes are upon a more complicated
scale; they show many remarkable traits of ingenuity;
am more persevering ; are highly sensitive ; and ni
many tribes we find kindness and courtesy approach-
ing to our ideas of the chivalric character.

The Mongolians and the Indian branch of the Cau-
casians must be considered next in the scale. They
have formed great states, and made advances in the arts
and in science; but a stationary character appears to be
impressed on them all, and ages pass witnout their
manifesting the slightest moral or political advance
upon the institutions of their predecessors. Tho Ma-
layan variety exhibits a character somewhat inferior
to the Mongolians, but not so dififereut as to call for
special notice.

The Caucasian variety, as a whole, stands greatly
above all the rest. It is characterised by superior
sagacity and sentiment, and, above all, by a progressive
character, which other races have only snown in a very
limited degree. The social arrtuigcments formed by
some branches of this race are the most calculated to
insure the general happiness which have ever been
known. Their industry and perseverance, aided by the
lights which they have deduced from science, have led
to the production of an amount of wealth beyond the
dreams of Orientals. Their benevolence has led them
not only to found institutions calculated to succour the
poor and afflicted in their own country, but to exert
themselves for the benefit of other nations in every
region of the globe. Wherever this race sets its foot,
it makes itself master — a result directly flowing from its
superior energy, skill, and perseverance. Amongst the
branches of the Caucasian variety, considerable mental
differences prevail. The Indian branch approaches to
the Mongolian variety in its want of inventive pro-
gression ; and it is only in the Pelasgian branch in
ancient, and the Teutonic or German in modem times,
that we find the utmoat development of the higher
lentiments and faculties of the apcciei.

rHTNCAL BISTORT OF MAK-ETH90L0OT.

1 ho bent U to »
i^niiiat tho back
1 end, twiited it
which he pulled
ting in a must
■o; and finullr,
tcoth, and held
mg, with half A
ztrenilty.
g more wonder.
ey are either ill
I ai much from
Gerninn. Top<
3en gifted with
y that wo cnii
I naturally pos<
1 matten giTon

vhicb has been
itise, that great
hibited by the
k intertropicnl
:8t in the intel-
terised hj great
1 perseverance,
erstition. The
tut a small ad-
gst some tribes
%te to bo found
of the Pacific,
acks BO mean
liid calculated
:es surprisingly
los of dress, or
ISO of hunting

a considerably
ssociutions for
e complicated
of ingenuity;
tive ; and iii
esy approach'

of the CaU'
scale. They
ces in the arts
appears to be
without their
icol advance
The Ma-
what inferior
to call for

onds greatly
by superior
progressive
wn in a very
9 formed by
alculated to
ever been
lided by the
ice, have led
beyond the
a led them
succour the
ut to exert
in every
ets its foot,
ing from its
niongst the
Mo mental
)roaches to
mtive pro-
branch in
lem tiroes,
the higher

PRRMANKNCT OV TTPU,

Tills subject hat been already touched upon ; but it
calls for some special oonpideratlon. We find some
interesting light thrown upon It in a work entitled
* The Physiological Charaoton of the Haces of Man-
kind considered in their Uelationi to History,' by Dr
W. F. Edwards.

This writer cites the Jews at an example of a race
who, for nearly two thousand years, have been spread
throughout a variety of cliroei, yet have everywhere
preserved their original featurei. In Leonardo da
Vinci'i picture of the Last Supper, painted three hun-
dred years ago, the figures are represented with coun-
tenances exactly resembling tliose of the Jews of the
present day. That the present well-known type of this
people has undergone no change at any time, is proved
DT the paintings found by Delzoni in the tomb of an
Egyptian kinc, probabi}' not less than three thousand
years old. These paintings represent four different
races in procession — 1. The natives, of a dark-brown
tint; 2, Negroes, with black skint, thick lips, and woollv
hair; 3. Persians; 4. Israelites, distinguiiihed by their
complexion and physiognomy. The paintings were
exhibited in London, where Dr Edwards particularly
examined them: he says, ' I had teen on the previous
day Jews in the streets of London; I thought that I
now saw their portraits,'

Dr Edwards endeavours to show that there it much
error in our ordinary ideas respecting the efl^cct of con-
quests in changing population. There is a tendency in
savage races to sink under a superior intruding race,
at the Ouanchcs have done in the Canary Islands, the
Caribbs in tho West Indies, and a particular Indian
race in Newfoundland; but when the original people
are to a certain extent civilised, and therefore nume-
rous in proportion to space, the law seems to be, that
they continue to fonn the basis of the population, while
the conquerors become the progenitors of an aristocratic
class. Even when the cruel Ohenghis Khan deliberated
at to the propriety of massacring the people whom he
had subdued in the north of China, it was shown to
him, and he vielded to the suggestion, that they were
better spared, as being useful for producing victual
and paying taxes. We see the Hindoos continuing to
occupy their country on this principle, after being sub-
jugated ; and the Hritish, though they have extermi-
nated the intractable savages of Van Diemen's Land,
seem to contemplate encouraging into their service the
more docile races of New Zealand. Reason is shown
by Dr Edwards for concluding that, in several Euro-
pean countries which have passed through the hands
of various matters, the bulk of the people are still tho
■ame as in very remote times. Rome, and the Papal
states, yet show a people of exactly the same type of
visage with the ancient Romans, as represented in busts
and upon bas-reliefs. A people of one type, supposed
to be that of the ancient Gauls, were distinctly traced
by Dr Edwards in eastern France and in northern
Italy. He also adduces reasons for believing that the
early Rritous still form a large portion of the present
population of England. History itself, rightly read,
bears out these propositions. The Franks, trho acquired
the mastery in Gaul in the fifth century, were rather
an army than a migratory nation. The Lombards,
who overran and seixed the northern half of Italy, are
supposed to have only been about 100,000 in number.
The immigration of the Saxons into England seems to
have been upon a greater scale; but the Normans, led
by the Conqueror, were only 00,000 soldiers.

The stability of the people on their original ground,
and the permanency of tneir original character, are
both shown in a striking manner by the description
which Tacitus gives of the Gauls, Britons, and Germans,
The Gauls he si>eaks of as * gay, volatile, and precipi-
tate, prone to rush to action, but without the power of
lustaining adversity and the tug of strife; and this is
the character of the Celtic portion of the French people
down to the present day. He represents the Britons

ai oool, considerate, and tedate, poMctsed of inlellee.
tual talent, and says that he prefers their aptitude to
the livelier manners of the (lauls. The same mental
qualities charnoteriso tho English of the nineteenth
centurr, and they and lae French may still be con<
traited in similar terms. He describes the Germans,
allowing for the state of their civilisation, at a bold,
prudent, self-denying, and virtuout people, pottetted of
great force of character ; and the tamo featuret dls>
linguish them still.'* It is scarcely necessary to re-
mark, that the blue eyes and fair hair which the Roman
hiatorian attributet to tho Germans, are still widely-
prevailing features of their external physiognomy.

The perseverance of national types is supported by
circumstances favouring the same conclusion with re-
gard to individual families. It hat been repeatedly
observed, in (i;alleries of family portraits, that a parti-
cular style ot face, or some shape of feature, is handed
down from one generation to another, or, passing per-
haps over one or two generations, revives in a third.
A certain thickness in the under lip hat been thus
hereditary in the royal family of Austria for several
centuries. The face of the British royal family hat
experienced nothing but minor changes since tho Elec-
tress Sophia, if not from earliur generations, Mr Wil-
liam Howitt, in bit work entitled ' Visits to Remark-
able Places,' gives a portrait of a school-boy who was
pointed out to him at Stratford-upon-Avon as a de-
scendant of Shakespeare, and it is unquestionable that
tho face has a considerable resemblance to that of the
great dramatist, Tho present writer may be allowed
to state, that be has seen a claimant of the Wintoun
peerage in humble life, bearing precisely tho peculiar
physiognomy of two or three of the children of the
baron of Queen Mary's time, as represented in a family
group painted by Antony More, and engraved in Pin-
kerton's Scottish Gallery, The likeness in this case
was as great as is ever seen between brothers. Another
circumstance, in which tho writer was personally con-
cerned, will perhaps be considered as a curious illus-
tration of the same point. He was one day, while
walking in the country, struck by the appearance of a
middle-aged gentleman who passed in a carriage, and
who strongly reminded him of the common portrait of
Sir William Wallace, He had previously, as might
be supposed, no inclination to attach any credit to
that portrait, but he could not help being greatly
surprised when, upon inquiry, ho learned that the

fentleman who had just passed was General Dunlop of
)unlop, whose mother he well knew to have been the
daughter of Sir Thomas Wallace of Craigie, the last
lineal descendant of a branch of the family of the Scot-
tish hero. It may bo added, that the rencontre took
place sixty miles from the seat of General Dunlop.
As Wallace is now known to have visited France, it it
not iinpossible that hit visage may havejteen painted;
or, supposing the portrait not his, it is likely to be that
of some early member of the Wallace-Craigie family,
in which case the anecdote would not be much less
valuable at a proof of the long descent of a family
face.

EiTccts of Local CIroumstanves in producing Changes,

On the other hand, there are proofs: of great alte-
rations having been produced in tho external fea-
tures of races by peculiar local circumstances, Tho
descendants of the English settlers in the American
states di8])lay a considerable variation in general fonn
and aspect from the parent nation. The children of
European settlers in New South Wales, are tall, thin,
and weaker than their progenitors. In the West Indies,
some distinct new peculiarities of structure have been
observed in the descendants of English settlers. Their
cheek-bones are higher, and their eyes deeper set in
the head, than those of the English nation generally.
In these respects, they approximate to the form of the
aboriginal races of the American continent and islands;

* Essay by Mr Combe In Morton's Crania Americana,

CUAMBEIUS'S INFORMATION FOR TUB PEOPLE.

Mid U hM bMn (Kiliiteil nut that luch • form l« uieful
ill |irot«ctin(( the evv-iljiht frnin the ulan of tlio tropical
•uii. The CroolcR have aUo cooler •lilni, aii<l are keener
nf tight, ami more iiipplo in the joiiiti, than the Kiig-
Ilih. It ha* bren reinarliod of the iloicenilanti of
Afrlcane in the irnited Stntci, that, after thrco or four
^'enerationi, their featurci loae much of the native

African cant, and approximate to thoie of thu white

l>ccomiiiff imal
iind' iparlilins, the note higher in the ridge', and the

people, the mouth

■mailer, the eyes liveljr

hair coniiderahly loiiKor and leM criip

Analosouii clrcumiituncee are ohicrvod nmon^it the
lower anlmali. For example, the woolljr thocp, brought
into a tropical climate, loNi iti Hee<'e, and retaini only
n thin coat of hair. The hogi of Cuba, all of which are
dcicended from a Kuro|H)aii itock, are twice ni large
ui modern Kiiropeati hogi. The hone* which run wild
in I'araguay, though all dciconded from vuricgatetl
Kuropean races, are now of one peculiar colour, which
we cannot doubt In the ott'ect of «oino peculiar local
circumitancoi. ' On coniidering tlieao and analogous
phenomena,' says l>r I'rivhanl, * we can hardly avoid
concluding that the variations of animals proceed
according to certain laws, by which the struvturu is
adapted to the necessity of local circumstances.' If
such be the case, it must bo held as evidence favour-
able to the supposition that nil the rucos are sprung
from one stock. The variations might in that case be
regarded as altogether produced by external conditions
operating during a long course of ages. That the inha-
bitants of certain regions should be stamped with cer-
tain physical characteristics, is indeed nothing more
than what may be expected ; and hence the absurdity
of laying hold of every little difference of dialect, every
tint of skin or colour of hair, every mould of nose or
contour of skull, as a warrant sufficient for a new type
or lubdivision of the human species.

CONCLUSION.

From all that has been written or learned on the
subject of inan'ii physical and social history, it appears
evident that the constitutional character of the human
being admits of a very high degree of culture and im-
provement. Nature ushers him into existence moic
weak and helpless than any of the lower animals, nii<l,
left uncultivated, he grows up an ignorant savage, in
the most debased condition, however, in which li(< can
be found, he possesses the rude elements of intelligonce,
and aspires to a destiny altogether beyond the leach of
the creatures over which he has acquired dominion.
His pre-eminence in the scale of being may be proxi-
mately traced to the structure of his brain, or organ
of thought, which greatly exceeds in relative magnitude
that of any of the lower animals; to his capacity for
speech; to his upright posture; and to the mechanism
of his ha., that most wonderful and inulti-operativc
of all aii.u.af organs. His superior mental develop-
ment, when operated upon by a combination of happy
circumstances, usually clussoti under the name of edu-
cation, enables him to trace effects to causes, to convoy
au account of his exiierience to his fellows, and, above
all, to put not only this experience, but his numerous
and varied thoughts, on record for the benefit of future
generations. In this manner the savage, which man
originally is, is gradually improved. Each new genera-
tion enjoys the L-^nefit of an accumulated experience;
and ut last, as cultr'ation advances, man is found to be
» highly intellectual being, with a frame more elcjjant
and powerful than }• « possesjcd when his race was in a
state of heathen daikii-.'">

Under an All-wiw P\..-.'lencp .aan has assuredly
been placed on t!<:'. eiir<:hiy ojor : perform . iiart im-
measurably more fU." inc I :: ■.; that assij.'i'-d to the
lower orders of tu.i.ttlii, ,»'w'i of whoso gei.ei.itious is
in no respect adwn.ijd, aa i -,\nnot possibly advance,
beyond the precise a .J humule station which was first
occupied by its race. * In this point of view," to use
tho language of Lawrence, ' man stands alone : his fa-
culties, and what lie has efiected by them, place him at
16 •

a wide interval (Voin all other animals- at an interval
which no animal hitherto known to us can fill up. The
man-like monkey, tho almost reasoning elephant, tho
docile dog, tho sa>j^<:ious beavrr, tho industrious bee,
cannot Imi coiu|)ar<" i to him. In none of those instanret
is thoro any pro^>>vis either in thu individuals or the
species.'

Kluvated, howwer, ns Is the inenncst among human
beings above the higher of tho animal tribes. It i» evi-
dei\t that for the proper performance of his part 'i*
•nuit einplov moans fi advanoenient, eUo I e iv'.m in a
condition of ignoraiuo and barbarism m "t deploi'a>>le
to contemplate. I'luced In a largo and hen itiful world,
abounding with animal, vegetable, and mineral exist-
ences at his command, and accountable for hin conduct,
it liehoves him to pursue such a course of activity as
will enable him to enjoy the full l>eneflts of his situa-
tion. I)y pursuing that line of policy which leads to
social melioration, he rises step by step to a high degree
of civilisation, and bequeaths to posterity almost im-
perishable monuments of his greatness. Attaining this
enviable height, should he pursue or be the victim of »
contrary line of policy, he sinks in the same ratio, and

f)erhnr)B with greater speed, down to tho original and
tumble level from which he had formerly arisen.

To be assured that these are not merely conjecture'
speculations, we have only to direct niir attrition «<•
hintory, wherein examples are offered of the gni'1' t
rise, the eminence, tho decline, and the ultimo i ^ •
tinction, of civilisation. Again, like the ^'.-owth of .1.
new order of plants on the soil of an < terminated
forest, we find on the spot once oonsecratod by deeds of
human greatness, a diflbrcnt branch . *' the family of
mankina, pursuing by toilsome steps a similar riso
from barbarism, and asserting in their turn the exalted
capacity for improvuiueut common to all the varieties
of our race.

Although i( is established both by Kcriiitural record
and geological discoveries, that man was placed on earth
loiit in the series of animal existences, his race pos-
soHses a sufficient antiquity to embrace various instances
of the rise and decay of nations at a iteriod so remote
.' to be beyond the reach of ordinary history, and only
idiown by the wreclts of man's inveutivq genius. Thus,
in the Fast, are found remains of architecture and
si'Mlpture, of thu origin or meaning of wliich the oldest
icii'iwii nations were altogether ignorant, and which
are a puzzle to modem archoeologists. Thus, also,
throughout North and Central America, tboro aro
found vast monuments of antiquity and objects of art,
of a date long anterior to that of the earliest recorded
nations, and which these nations looked upon with awe
and wonder. The valley of the Mississippi, in parti-
cular, abounds in an immense quantity of artificial
mounds of various shapes and sizes, and forts of dif-
ferent kinds, the origin of which is altogether unknown,
but which are doubtless tho remains of an extinct
civilised race. This country-, as is well known, was
found, in the earlier perioi* ' ' Ai'^oricav discovery, in
the possession of those red ..t.\d \\: 'ai!v called Indians,
.40 are now retiring befor 'he :<<i n n ■ f the whi' ■
'iiiese red races manifest 1 \ ' - . '< possessing, 01'
of ever having possessed, L le poti or or the incli-

nation to erect such works: they disclaim having
erected them, and in their traditions sueak of them as
the prodnctions of a people who were their predecessors
in the country, and have long been extinct.

To close this brief and imperfect sketch of man's
physical history, we have only to add, that from all the
existing remains of antiquity, both in the eastern and
western hemisphere, and from all written history, it
conclusively appears that mapkind, taken in the mass,
have in no respect degenerated in physical structure;
but that individually thoy are as tall, bulky, and power-
ful as they were in the earliest periods of their pro*
gross, while, as respects mental qualifications, they now,
in all enlightened societies, occupy a station in tho
scale of being which it is rcasonablo to conclude was
never before enjoyed.

LANGUAGE.

LiNOUAOR tnikv hiclade all ti -n, miorkf, or indk*(lMU
th*( kra •luploved to ■igiiit> it u, '' known ton*
thing iliffereiit from thsniMlvei. I tie m fiiijT °' * ^l-
th« hiiiitiii){ of » flag, the m>\n)'\\na of i iriin-ot, aw
»cU IMJrforuied not for their own ike, but toi h. J/'if
poee of conveying loine nieetagi! or oonimunicstion
which Km iMen connected or Mioci»ted with them.

There ii a well-known irower In the huuinn mind,
c»ll«d the Power of Aiwiciution by C'ontigullv, which
eukblep ui to retnin ooi^oint IniprotiionB ol object! or
occttrroiico» that have been experienced together, and
to revive the entire image of an aggregate whole
hro igh the preionce of any one of it* individual parti.
' '/ *!>'• iwwer wo can faitcn together the notion! of a
i|u and of a thing •ignihod so llrmlv,that byieeing or
b" .4lng the iign we are reminded of the thing, anTby
ivttaMiing the thing wo can recall the »ign; by what
h mm wu can be awaro uf what ii unseen; and thus
the operations of the human mind arc extended from a
narrow to a boundlesi sphere.

Language, however, properly means the particular
system^ of signs universally employed and understood
in the intercourse of human society, and applicable to
every case of the communication of meaning or thought.
Articulate speech, extended in civilised countries by
the art of writing, is the contrivance everywhere an-
swering to this description.

The signs made by human beings through their
hodilj organs are usually divided into Natural and
Artykial, The natural signs are the instinctive and
untaught movements of the body which arise out of the
effort to express feelings, passions, or desires, and are
what the lower animals are to some extent capable of
producing. They consist of the tones of the voice, the
play of the features, the movoinents of the limbs, and
the gestures of the body. Every conspicuous paaeion
or emotion gives a distinct expression to those rarious
organs, _bv putting them into the state most in har-
mony with Itself; and each different expression tends,
by an instinctive operation of fellow-feeling, to coll
forth its proper emotion in those who witness it. The
howlings and contortions of pain, the quakings of
terror, the fixed gape of aHoniihment, the waitings and
teai-s of wounde<l affection, the swellings of rage, the
eagerness of pursuit, the cry of victory, the placid re-
uose of contentment, the outburst of the ludicrous, the
Lending of reverential fueling, the urgent movements
of intreaty, are all peculiar effects on tho bodily organs,
characteristic of the several feelin;;s, and capable of
communiciitting these feelings at oace, and indepen-
dently of all instruction, from one human being to
another. Hut these signs are by far too limited to
express the wide variety of thoughts and sentiments
which the human mind can entertam, and which require
to bo communicated between man and man. Kven in
the most perfect development of thla modo of expres-
sion, in the stage pantomime or dumb show, it is very
obscure when it attempts to convey anything beyond the
most obvious ideas and feelings. So far as it goes, how-
rrr it ta the most powerful means of impressing one
inau 1 feviin^ oil another, or of inipiring a multitude
wiUi a eonkmon enthusiasm. Hence it continues to be
used alonf; with artificial speech, aa ig seen in the ges-
ture*, gridiaees, movements, and modulations of con-
veraMktlon and oratorv Tt is the rea onw e of children,
and of perfi^ns ignoranf .if one another*! language; and
It ire partially cin|»lnyed ky the drnf and dumb.

The artificial sigiii are iiiaite by means of certain
sounds of the human' Yoioe, which Mre called Articu-
late, or jointed, because Iwn ir more of them can easily
be joined together, or pronounced in unbroken utter-
ance, so as to form combinations of sounds: and as
No. 52.

these conblnatlons may he rarted without end, It li
IMMsible by thuir mean* to obtain a diitiiigulshabl*
H' 'I or separate nam* for everything which turm* the
m tM-x of communication "r thought.

I tie different ways in whii ' oguage may bo viewed,
ft)iii 'he variouipuriioses which -wrvea, have given birth
to ae 'Uny different f%t of rule "" I'rini'iple* concern-
ing it. Oi" ^ ^Ji«se classe* of pr lesn'iistitutitii the
subject of (iV nmar , another r«l, o Pronuneiuliun i
n third forniK wlmt is called Rkttoi ii foii th enters
the scieij ' uf Logic; aiid a III, takes a larger
bt i> than aii.\ >f these, and includes Cniverinl Oram-
mar together v th the explanation of the ori^ i and
proj H of langwiij* cotuidtred a» a part of the n rittM-
Mon I 'iiikina.

Oiii xmar showH how to arrange words into sontei '°e*
in all cases when several different named >ve to e
brought together in < lor to express a in >ing. ,
classifies an' descril'' the different kindn >!' names,
such as noil verb, uiiective, fcc; expUinn the exact
meaning aii<. ise < the changes or inrioct ms that
some of them indor(.>c;; and teaches the propci mode of
joining them ii wh - all circumstances. The inlleution*

and arrangonic it^ i
languages, «aclj i '
itself. Thu« w< :
mar, Arabic gran
peculiar to each I
which may l<o con
connected wi«'i it.

f words being different u different

igue hits a grammar aji| rupriato to

e English grammar, French K<°am-

iir, and so forth. There ii< also

iguago a system of pronunciation,

I <derf(( as a brunch of knowledge

lihetorio lays down maxima for

giving languHj.^' its li hcst possible effect in comniu^ii-
eating ideas and sen moiits from one person to an-
other; it teaches how > use words for tho purposes of
exposition, persuasion, id pleasing, and for composing
the works of art that . o rounded on speech, Huch a*
the various forms of )/ Hry. Logio views lan^'uage
solely as an instrument < inference or reasoning' -that
is to say, for extending knowledge wider than <*xpo-
rienco, for discovering tl > post, the future, ami tho
distant, from tho present Ueneral terms, cliMBifica-
tions, and propositions, b< ong to the word-machinery
of logic, t/niversal grmm (ir is founded on a compa-
rison of languages in goiu ral, and treats of the ports
of speech and peculiarities common to them all. It
distinguishes the primitive classes of names from such
0* are derived, and explains 'he process of derivation.
But a still wider inquiry is requisite, in order to de-
scribe the manner in which tlie entire body of language
ha* grown up and ;;raduall v shaped itself into the
various forms which we find among the different lan-
guages of the globe. I universal grammar, coupled with
this further investigation, furnis the subject of the
preient treatise. It sometimes receives the name of
Philology.

The branches of knowledge comprised under gram-
mar, logic, and rhetoric, are of the greatest utility in
the business of daily life; but philologpr is chicly to
be considered at present a* a subject of high specula-
tive curiosity. It gives a wide field for the human
intellect to explore, and it derives a deep and myste-
rioui interest, from touching on things transacted bcforo
the dawn of history, and from its attempting to search
ont the ancient leats of nations and the affinities of
remote peoples.

We •hall consider the subject under the following
heade: — 1. The human voice, and the formation of
letten and word*. 2. The parts of speech, and their
relationships according to tne doctrines of universal
graamar. 3. The origin and progress of language in
^neral. 4. The languages of the globe, their arrange-
ment into families, and the peculiarities which distiu-
guidt them from each other.

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATIOK FOB THE PEOPLE.

THE HCMAN VOICE — ^FOBMATION OP liTIEKS AND VOROI.

The Tocal organi of man are formed by certain ad-
ditioni being made to the organs of chewing, iwallow-
jng, and breathing. For the purposes of sound they
are set in action by the lungs, or rati er by the chest
compressing the lungs, and driving a current of air
through the windpipe. The windpipe, instead of being
a simple tube, is mounted inside with two flaps run-
ning from before backwards, and leaving a narrow slit
between them. These flaps are attached to movable
pieoM of gristle or cartilage, that seem, as it were, to
islasp the windpipe between them; and by muscles
attached to these, the flaps or vocal chords can be
tightened or relaxed at pleasure. In their relaxed
state, the air passes through the windpipe with no
other noise than we hear in simple breathing, or at
most in whispering. But if they are tightened by
muscles drawing the cartilages asunder, and are thus
connected by firm muscular bands with the bones of
the head, and if the ' ^th is sent through the wi:id-
piiie strongly, an auu. ' and powerful sound is pro-
9d, dependuig on tht. .'esonance of the skull, in the
vame way that the sound of a violin depends on the
vibrations being communicated by the strings to the
whole solid mass of the instrument. By varying the
tightness of the vocal flaps, and the size of the slit
between them, and also by changing the strength of
the blast from the lungs, tones of different strength
and pitch may be produced. The whole of the musical
apparatus of the human voice is contained in the
windpipe with its cartilages and vocal chords.

It is found, however, that the sound in passing
through the mouth may have its character altered, not
in respect of musical pitch or strength, but in a way to
give it a distinguishable effect on the ear. If a person
singing any one note of the musical scale with the
mouth gaping open, were to continue the same note
with the mouth nearly shut, the sound would be iden-
tical in its musical effect, but in respect of character
or expression, it would appear to be different. There
would seem to be a change of shape in the sound itself
This peculiarity of sounds, which is dependent on the
form and movements of the mouth during their utter-
ance, is termed their articulate character; and sounds
strongly marked with it are called articulate sounds.
The musical and the articulate characters of sounds
arise from difl^rent organs, and are governed by totally
diSerent principles. Their connection with the gene-
ral framework of body and mind is also totally diffe-
rent. The windpipe sounds are combined into melo-
dious successions, according to one class of feelings,
while the mouth sounds are connected under tie
guidance of sensibilities which have very little in com-
mon with musical taste.

For articulate sounds, therefore, we have to refer to
the construction and movements of the mouth. Every
one knows its general form and parts, and we need
only call attention to the movuments performed in it.
These are — \st, The movement of the lower jaw, which
enlarges or contracts the height of the cavity, or itd
dimensions from above downward, and opens or cl .es
the aperture of the teeth; 2d, The movements of the
cheeks, which distend or lengthen the mouth in the
cross direction, and, along with the lowering of the jaw,
open the cavity to its fullest dimensions; 3rf, The con-
traction of the ring of the mouth or lips, as exemplified
in the whistling position; 4th, The elevations and de-
pressions of the .pper and lower lips, which combine
with and modi { the other movements; 6th, The move-
ments of the V -wue. The^e are veiy various : — 1»/,
It may be protrudet^ outwards, or drawn in to the back
of the mouth; 2d, It may be bent or curled either up
or down; ad, It has a free motion from side to side.
Bjr these motions the tongue can come into contact
with any point in the cavity, and make the touch by
diflferent parts of its own surface.

All these movements tend to altor the shape of the
axouth, and with this vUe exptcwion of the sound which
18

issues from it. Hence the possible varlet;^ of sounds
that may arise is unlimited. The distinguishable
sounds, however, are not very numerous. They are
arranged into various kinds : —

l)t. We have what are called the voioel sounds.
When all the parts of the mouth are in one fixed posi-
tion, giving a free opening outwards, and remain flxci
during the emission of a sound, so as to exercise no
other influence than arises from the mere shape of the
cavity, a vowel is produced. Thus in sounding ah, the
mouth is opened, and the javrs, cheeks, lips, and tongue
are fixed dead in one posture; ^o in sounding uuh, the
posture, though different from the former, is still a
quiescent or dead posture. By altering the shape, the
sound is altered; but so long as it is an unalterable
shape, a vowel is'the result. The vowels that are most
markedly distinguished from each other, are such as
arise from the most widely different arrangement of
the parts of the mouth. The five vowels, ah, ee, ay
(sap), oh, uh, are the five most distinct sounds result-
ing from the various extreme positions of the organs,
and may be called the five fundamental vowel sounds,
having a greater difference from each other than any
one of them has for any other sound distinct from
them. Thus the English vowel sound awe, arises from
a middle position between ah and oh. The English sound
of i, as in sit, is very little different from the fundamen-
tal ee ; set is very near say ; and even u in hut is but one
remove from the same sound. The a in sat is a modi-
fication of the fundamental ah. Every one of these
sounds can be varied by a slight shading, so as to pro-
duce several that a fine ear can distinguish. In fact,
no two nations pronounce similar vowels exactly alike,
and even in the individuals of the sam^ pation slight
differences are very common: sometimes the people of
one province can be distinguished by the shade thai;
they give to the fundamental letters of the alphabet.
Thus the Scotch sound of short «', as in sit, is often too
near the ay sound, whereas in correct English pronun-
ciation it should be nearer the ee.

But tho varieties of vowel utterance can be im-
mensely extended by combinations of vowels, or by
changing from one to another within the same breath,
as in boy. , This gives rise to what are called diphthongs.
There are some of these diphthongs so natural and easy,
that they are adopted as regular alphabetical sounds,
on which differences of words are founded. In English
there are three proper diphthongs: these are the sounds
in ligh, now, boy. The &«t is a combination of ah and
ee; the second of oh and vh; the third of oh and a
sound approachiiig to ay. There are other diphthongs
less perfect than these, or in which the sounds do not
run together so completely. Thus the ua in quake, the
we in Tweed, are regarded as diphthongs less pure than
the others.

2<f, Of the class of sounds called consonants, a great
many divisions have been made. They differ from the
vowels in requiring some of the parts of the mouth to
perform particular movements, in order to their being
uttered. A certain plav of the tongue, teeth, or lips,
is necessary to each of them. This play may vary from
the mere quiver of the tongue in sounding *, to the
forcible shutting off of the sound by the sudden closure
of the lips in p final. The sounds, p, /, and k, are con-
nected either with sudden closures or with sudden
explosions of the sounding emanation, and are there-
fore called mtUes, and also explosive letters: p is formed
by the lips, t by the point of the tongue striking the
roof of the mouth near the teeth, k by the back part
of the tongue striking the back part of the roof. Of
these, p is the easiest to sound, and the first learned by
children, and k the most difficult. The p, being formed
by the lips, is called a labial, t a palatal, and h a gut'
tural, or throat-formed letter. And as all the conso-
nants are formed more or less nearly in one of these
positions, a general division can be made of them into
labials, palatals, and gutturals. Six distinct labials
are enumerated, depending on different ways of sound-
ing with the lip closure, i'hc mute or explosive |i has

LANGUAGE.

rariety of sounds

diBtinguishable

reus. They are

s voivel sounds,
n one fixed posi-
Ad remain fixc(i
\B to exercise no
lere shape of the
sounding ah, the
lips, ana tongue
)unding uuh, the
ormer, is still a
g the shape, the
3 an unalterable
ils that are most
tier, are such as
arrangement of
Jwels, ah, ee, ay
t sounds result-
s of the organs.
Ell vowel sounds,
other than any
d distinct from
awe, arises from
be English sound
1 the fundamen-
in hut is but one
in Mt is a modi-
iry one of these
Dg, so as to pro-
guish. In fact,
Is exactly alike,
19 nation slight
eg the people of
the shade thaii
)f the alphabet.
«t(, is often too
ilnglish pronun-

ce can be im-

Towels, or by

le same breath,

lied diphthongs.

itural and easy,

ibetical sounds.

In English

are the sounds

ition of ah and

of oh and a

iier diphthongs

sounds do not

in quake, the

less pure than

mants, a great

lilfer from the

the mouth to

to their being

teeth, or lips,

lay vary from

ling s, to the

:ddeu closure

id k, are con-

with sudden

id are there-

p is formed

striking the

e back part

the roof. Of

it learned by

>eing formed

md k a gut-

11 the conso-

one of these

if thcin into

;lnct labials

rs of souiid-

losire p has

been mentioaed; next to it is 6, produced by a less
violent closure, which Ulows the voice to be heard
during the act, as any one will feel by sounding oup
and cub. The third labial is m, which is still farther
removed from the sudden extinction occurring with
thep; a free communication is opened with the nose
for the egress of the air, and the sound can be made
continuous like a vowel ; in other words, we have the
hamming sound; this is the nasal labial, while h is
called the vocal labial. The fourth labial is /, pro-
duced by the upper teeth and the lower lip coming
together, and the breath passing through them without
voice; this is the whispered or aspirate labial. When
the vocal chords are tightened up, and the hard sound
of the voice sent through this closure^we have v, or a
second vocal labial, called the vocal aspirate. Lastly,
a sound may be sent through the closed lips, making
them vibrate or shake like a reed, as in the sound prr;
this is the vibratory labial, or the labial r. A similar
series can be described in the palatals. The mute
being t, the vocal is d; the nasal are / and n; the
aspirates are th (rtumb), », sh, arising from slightly-
differing positions of the tongue in its contact with the
palate : the vocals, or audible forms of these, are th
(thy), z, j; the vibratory palatal is the common r.
The gutturals likewise show the same list of varieties.
First, k mute; then the vocal ^; the nasal ng, a simple
sound, though spelt in our language with two letters ;
the aspirate ch, as in loch, together with the fainter
form h; the vocal aspirate gh unknown, and almost
unpronounceable by us; and the vibratory ghr occur-
ring as a burr in some people's utterance. This classi-
fication, which was first proposed by Dr Arnott, may
be summed up in the following table : —

Labials, Palatals. Gutturals.

Mute,

VOORI,

Nasal, .

l.n

Aspirate,

th, t, ih

ch.h

Vocal Aspirotc, .

th.zj

ffh

Vibratory, .

in-

»•

ghr

Besides these there are two letters essentially of the
nature of vowels, but having in many cimcs the force
of consonants. These are w and y ; the one a pro-
longed or double u, the other a prolonged e. The
peculiar effect of each is brought out when followed by
another vowel, so as to make a diphthong. The to has
a labial character, the y a guttural.

The nasal letters may bo so attenuated as to lose
the character of consonants, and merely give a nasal
twang to the vowel adjoining. This is the case in the
French pronunciation.

Speech is generally a mixture of vowels and conso-
nants. The utterance most easy to sustain, and most
agreeable to the ear, is formed by a vowel and conso-
nant alternating. Vowels alone produce too feeble an
impression to make a distinct language. As a general
rule, abrupt sounds have the most marked effect on the
ear; so that a mixture of these is necessary to make
a clear and intelligible series of sounds. Hence the
mute consonants p, t, k, have a high value, as charac-
teristic and unmistakeable letters ; but the hissing
sound of s is remarkable for its piercing effect on the
ear, and for its being so peculiar and distinct, that no
other sound can be confounded with it; and it is there-
fore an exceedingly useful member of the alphabet.
The same remark, in a less degree, applies to r, which
loaves a vivid impression, and is not easily mistaken
for any other sound. The aspirates generally, /, sh, ch,
h, have a certain amount of the hissing peculiarity, but
none of them are so intense as the pure s. They have
all, however, a distinct and sharp effect on the ear

The three mutes, p, t, k, and the three vocal sounds
corresponding, h, d, g, cannot be pronounced without
tlie help of some vowel; hence in their pure form they
are abstractions rather than realities. Almost all the
others permit of themselves a constant passage of the
breath, and can therefore be sounded without the addi-

tion of Toweli. Thus m, n, I, r, ng,f, «, &o. can all b«
sounded each by itself alone, although the addition of
a vowel will in general make the exercise more easy.
Thus mmee is easier and pleasanter than mmm. The
passing into a vowel is a passing from a forced to a free
posture of the parts of the mouth. But as these letters
can be sounded with more or less difficulty by them-
selves, a number of them have been called semivowels,
or we might call them thick or viscid vowels. They have
a middle character between the vowels and the six con-
sonants above-mentioned. They demand a less violent
exertion than the abrupt consonants, but a greater
exertion than the vowels.

Each of the vowels, standing alone, may have a dis-
tinct meaning attached to it, or be an intelligible
sound — the name or expression of an object or thing.
But, in general, intelligible sounds are made up at the
very least of a vowel and consonant. The vowels alone
would yield very few names, even if each were made
significant; and no consonant by itself is the name of
anything. So essential 4s the union of a vowel and
consonant to make an intelligible sound, that it has
been proved that the letters of the Hebrew alphabet
(which used to be reckoned an alphabet of consonants
without vowels) have really the force of a vowel and
consonant taken together; hence in writing with them
vowels were unnecessary, but when the letters came to
be accounted pure consonants, it was requisite to ima-
gine vowels to complete the spelling of the words. A
single articulate union of a vowel and consonant makes
a syllable, as ab, be, up, vie ; but it is possible to have
a greater number of letters, and yet make one unbroken
sound. A consonant can be sounded with a vowel be-
fore or a vowel after it; hence a vowel may be set
between two consonants, as bad, making no more than
one syllable. A syllable can be extended still farther
by joining a semivowel consonant with another, it being
possible to sound both along with a vowel, as in blend;
and in some cases three consonants can be joined, as in
strength. The letters /, m, », r, have a great facility in
going along with the more abrupt consonants to make
single syllables; and from their effect in softening down
the sudden harshness of the mutes and vocals, they
were called by the Greeks liquids, and were very much
employed in their language, for the sake of melody and
softness, both as the single consonants of syllables, and
in union with other consonants. The power of making
syllables begin or end with double consonants enables
us to increase to a manifold extent the number of dis-
tinct syllables which it is possible to form out of the
letters of the alphabet, and thus enlarges the scope of
articulate language.

Each distinct vowel may be the basis of a range of
syllables, by being bedded in all the different varieties
of consonants and their combinations. Thus we have
a, e, t, 0, u, &c. syllables. Each diphthong may also
yield a train of syllables. It is possible further to vary
some of the vowels without changing their essential
expression, so as to produce a new class of syllables
that shall be distinct from those founded on the ordi-
nary form of the vowel. For example, there may be a
long and a short form of several of them; as in the
case of not, nought, where the vowel is the same, but
short in the first word, nut, and long in the second,
nought: so also in meet, mete, where we have the short
and long e. '.

If we revert again to the table of consonants, we
may remark that, as regards ease of pronunciation, the
labials are before the palatals, and these before the
gutturals. It is easier to perform the articulate move-
ments of the lips than it is to perform the movements
of the palate and throat. Children can sound m very
early; and before being able to pronounce thumb, they
say /umb. But looking at the table in the other direc-
tion, or according to the classes, mute, vocal, &c. it
may be observed that the mutes and aspirates, p, t, k,
and/. A, ch, &c. are more easy than the same letters made
vocal, b, d, g, and v, dh, gh, &c. and also more easy than
the nasals m, », ng. Hence some nations use the mutes

CHAMBERS'S INFOKMATIOK FOR THE PEOPLE.

and asplratw whore olhere employ the toc«U in Bound-
iug the very same wordi. Home Tooke gives a Welih-
luan's Tenion of an English sentence, which exemphfiei
thia change throughout: —

I vow, by God, <l*«t Jenkin i» • wliard.

I few, py Cot, ttatShenkiuinawtaart.

. The tendency of some nations to prefer one class of
articulations to another, is one of the causes of diffe-
rence of speech when the language employed is sub-
stantially the same. Examples of this will be ^iven
when we come to speak of the peculiarities ol the
Asiatic and European tongues.

There are certain combinations of letters, both
vowels and consonants, that are more easy to articu-
late than others; and in the usages of speech there are
preferences of one combination to another. If we take
the leading vowels in the order ee, ay, ah, oh, uh, there
is a gradual lengthening of the mouth outwards in
their utterance: with ev the mouth is flattened and
shut; with ay it lengthens out to some extent; with
ah it is still longer; and with uii it is lo.jgest of all.
Now, in pronouncing the consonants, it is found that
the labials may be nest pronounced with the mouth
lengthened, and the gutturals with the mouth short-
ened — that is, a labial utterance is very conveniently
combined with a ti, as mu, fu, pooh ; and a guttural
combines readily with an ee or ay sound, as hee, hay;
eke. So there is a certain conformity of position be-
tween the palatals and the middle vowels a^ and oh,
but this is not sufficient tu make a conspicuous har-
mony out of their combinations. The training of the
human voice is, however, in general, sufficient to get
over the partial incompatibilities hero spoken of, and
to enable it to combine labial consonants with guttural
vowels without any sense of difficulty. The word j>eep
will seem as natural to most people as poop. Uut it is
possible that this principle may have acted to some
degree in the early formation of languages.

We have already spoken of certain cases of the
union of consonants, and have described the classes of
consonants which can most readily go together in the
same syllable. A different case of union arises when
syllables are joined together in words. The union of
(ufierent syllables is apt to be less perfect than the
union of vowels and consonants in the same syllabic;
but the endeavour of all highly-improved languages is
to make the one as perfect as the other. The 6 reek
and I>atin uniformly adopted the plan of changing the
first or last letters of syllables to make them join easily
with others. The preposition in becomes im in Latin when
it has to go before a word beginning with m : thus we
have imminent instead of innwvmt, which would have
been a harsh combination, fjo the word syllable itself,
which is Oreek, begins with the preposition syn, which
would have mode synlable; but the n has been changed
into an I, and the sound of the word becomes much
more melodious. The most perfect of all ways of unit-
ing two syllables is to make them join upon the same
letter; the union in this case oven exceeds the union
of the most nearly related vowel and consonant ; in fact,
it is a complete fusion. When the two touching letters
are not the same, the next best fusion is when they are
of the same class, as mutes, vocals, aspirates, &c. Thus
in picture, the k and ( sounds being both mute, make a
much more natural succession than if one had been
mute and the other vocal, as pikdwe; the change from
the guttural mute A to the palatal mute t, is far less
violent than the change from the guttural mute to the
vocal palatal. So the word diphthong, whose proper
pronunciation is dipthong, would be more easy to utter
if it were dif*hmg, which is in fact a very common way
of pronouncing it. The Greek word for seven is hepta ;
but in the word hebdomadal, derived from it, there is a
change from the mute to the vocal fonn of both conso-
nants: such a combination as iu:bloniadal is not to be
found in the Greek language. For mere shortness of
pronunciation, the Aisiou of syllables is had recourse
to, as well OS the omission of letters (hat can be f^parcd,
20

or whether they can be spared or not; and this prac-
tice, which prevails in all languages, has the greatest
sweep in those which have not been fixed by alpha-
betical writing, written literature, and a code of
grammatical rules. Thus in English the proper name
Saint Clair becomes Sinclair ; the ancient termination
like has been universally shortened into ly; goodly,
tntly, are instead of goodlihe, truelike. Additional
syllables are, moreover, swamped entirely by breaking
down the middle barrier of consonants, or by absorbing
the vowel of one of them: the first is common in the
ancient languages, the last is seen abundantly in Eng-
lish, as in clefi for cleaved, learnt for learned.

The interval between word and word is of course
more decided ^an between syllable and syllable.
There is supposed to be something like a distinct pause
of the organs 1)etween one word and another. But
there is a sufficient closiiness in the articulation of suc-
cessive words to demand a certain degree of attention
to the harmonising of the letters that are concerned in
the transition. It so happens, however, in this case,
that a harsh transition is formed by the very succes-
sion which is the most flowing of all between two syl-
lables — that is, when one and the same letter ends one
word and begins the following: as when we say — has
seen, run now, call low. This successioji is too flow-
ing to admit of the necessary pause, and hence the
awkwordness of it. In langua^s where vowel endings
of words are common, there is a regular practice of
eliding or sinking one when two come together — one of
them at the end of the first word, and the other at the
beginning of the word following; it being in general
not 80 easy to sound two vowels in close and yet dis-
tinct succession, as when a consonnni divides them'.
In English, this principle is observed in the use of the
indefinite article, which is a before a vowel, but an
before a consonant.

The vowels and consonants which are allowed to go
together, and the laws that govern the succession of the
various letters, are different for different languages,
and have to be stated among the peculiarities of each.
This is called the vocalic harmony of a language, and
we shall see examples of it afterwards.

Words are sometimes of one syllable, sometimes of
two, three, four, five, or upwards. When a word has
several syllables, it is usual to put more stress on some
of them than on others in the act oi pronunciation;
the superior stress being called emphasis or accentva-
tion. In English, the singling out of one syllable for
especial stress is carried tu a very great length, perhaps
farther than in any other tongue; and the effect of this
is to make uur speech the extreme opposite of singing
or chanting, which lays equal stress on all syllables
alike, and varies only the time and the musical note of
each. Thus our pronunciation of the word difficulty, is
as far removed from the action of singing as any utter-
ance can be. The Latinised languages of the conti-
nent — the French, Spanish, and Italian — Lave a more
near approach to the sing-song; and we are taught to
believe that the ancient Latin and Oreek hivd still
more of the same peculiarity; at least wo arc accus-
tomed in our pronunciation of these languages to ab-
stain from the discriminating emphasis of our own
speech, and to drawl the successive syllables of the
words, keeping as closely ns we can by the sole distinc-
tion of long and short.

In English, it does not always happen that each
word has an emphatic syllable. The monosyllabic
particles, a, an, the, to, and, &c. are rarely emphatic;
they usually fall in with the uneniphatic syllables of
the adjoining words. Thus when we say, ' Beauty is a
thing to be sofight for and admired,' there are only
four svllables that receive a full emphasis. Among
the others there is a slight diflierence of accentuation,
but at best it only rises to a secondary emphasis ; as
in the word it, coining between the short syllables y
and a, and in the first syllable of admired ; it being
impossible to pronounce a train of short syllables with-
out increasing the stress on every second or third.

LaKguaoe.

It it probable that one of the changes gradually
coming over human ipeech has been from the music of
tone to the music of syllables and varied emphasis ; in
other words, we have advanced more and more into the
proper qualities of speech as distinrruished from song.
To produce a succesaiou of articulate vowels and con-
sonants that harmonise in their utterance and effect on
the ear, and vary the stress of the voice in pronouncing
them, has nothing whatever to do with the art of giving
pleasure by a succession of musical notes ; and conse-
quently the perfection of each follows its own peculiar
laws without interference with the other.

UNIVERSAL ORAMHAR.

Under this head we have to consider what are the
essential parts of speech common to all languages, and
how far they seem to be formed out of one another.
Notwithstanding the innumerable varieties of dialect
that we find in the peopled earth, there are some re-
spects wherein all languages must coincide, from the
identity of human nature and the external world.
The things to be expressed are in a great measure the
sume everywhere; the organs of human speech and
hearing, and the structure of the human understand-
ing, have an essential similarity throughout the human
family. The purposes to be served by speech are very
much alike ;«nd the attributes of perspicuity, clearness,
brevity, strength, 'oauty, &c. which give it all its effi-
ciency, are attained by very much the same devices.

1. In the first place, language must be governed by
the nature of the things tolbe named and described by
it. If the world around us were very different from
what it is, all our sensations, thoughts, reasonings, and
modes of discourse would be different. In a dead
frozen universe there would be no need for active or
passive verbs; if no two things were alike in any re-
spect, there would be no such thing as general terms ;
if every object had only one single quality, or affected
the human mind in only one way, adjectives and ad-
verbs would be wholly unknown. The same depend-
ence holds between the partd of speech and the wants,
desires, purposes, and peculiarities of human nature.
If there were no dependence of one man on another,
and no common action, we should not have an impera-
tive mood nor a plural number. If God had not made
man male and female, the three genders would have
been reduced to two. The tenses of the verb are a
device expressly adapted to a being who looks both
before and after.

Mr John Stuart Mill, in his great work on logic, has
given an account of the fundamental kinds of names
and of nameable things, which serve as a basis of
universal grammar as well as of logic. A name may
be defined as an articulate utterance associated with
a thing, for the purpose of recalling the thing to our-
selves or suggesting it to others. Articulate utterances,
we have seen, are divided into letters, syllables, and
words ; these last being identical with intelligible
names. It is not, however, universally true that each
word is the name of a single thing, and neither more
nor less : it often takes several words to name a single
thing, as when we say, • a burial-ground,' * a wolf in
sheep's clothing,' ' an officer that distinguished himself
at Watc-loo.' The most perfect scheme of naming
which has yet been devised for any class or species of
things — that is to say, the nomenclature of natural
history — employs uniformly two names to each object,
as populus alba, the tehite poplar.

The first division of names, according to Mr Mill,
is into indiydual and general; the second into con-
crete and abstract; the third into positive and negative;
and the fourth into absolute and relative : but for the
detail of these we must refer the reader to the number
on Louie (73).

The things denoted by names fall under two great
rlasses, which it is equally important to rewgnise both
in grammar and in logic. The one class refers to objects
considered simply as existing, or as conceivable, each
by itself apart; the other class contains the names of

affirmation, which uniformly connect together two or
more objects. Thus the various feelings, thoughts,
passions, volitions of the human mind, the mind itself,
the things without us, fortning the external universe,
niay each have a name appropriated to it, and connected
in our minds by association, so as to recall the thing or
convey the notion of it at pleasure. For example,
when we simply pronounce the names sweetness, recol-
lection, anger, resolution, star, pint, horse, John, we
do nothing more than fix attention upon the objects
named : beyond assuming their existence, and reviving
the idea of them, we do not say or affirm anything
about them. This class of names is well known in
grammar as the noung. But when we bring two objects
together, and declare some invariable connection to
exist between them, we make an additional effort of
mind, and we require a mode of marking it. Thus
when we say, ' honey is sweet,' we name two objects —
one an external substance, the other a sensation: but
we do something more — we bring them together in such
a way, that a listener would not merely have the
notions of both brought to his mind, but would be in-
duced to put himself into a train of actions in conse-
quence. Sweetness is a thjng to excite human desire;
and if a peculiar object is declared invariably to possess
it, and if that object is accessible, it is sought after and
used for the sake of the sweetness. Now a word that
connects two different things with go secure a bond,
that we feel sure of finding both if we find one, is a
totally different thing from a mere name of an isolated
object: the one indicates only a conception, the other
causes belief, trust, confidence, and the readiness to
pursue a train of actions in consequence. This second
class of names is termed in grammar verbs, or words
by pre-eminence. Action resides in them, whereas in
the nouns there is nothing but mere contemplation.
All the powers, properties, activities, and laws of na-
ture require verbs in order to express them; there is no
such thing as truth, or its opposite, falsehood, in any
set of words not containing a verb. Hence verbs are
essential to knowledge, belief, and action ; and they
grow out of the effort to express or indicate these. All
the sciences have verbs for the connecting links of their
propositions; all history and narration demands the
use of verbs ; all commands, purposes, desires, voli-
tions, must be expressed by their help. ' Circle ' is a
mere thing, exciting only a notion; 'a circle contains
the largest space of any figure with the same circumfe-
rence,' is a proposition, a truth, a law of nature, a thing
that human beings can rely and work on ; and a verb
is essential to its expression : omit the word * contains,'
and the adamantine link is dissolved out of it; it is
neither a truth, nor a law of nature, nor a groundwork
of human action: it is two notions set loose from one
another. As nature has bound bodies and properties
together by the ties of creative energy, so verbs bind
them together in human thought and confidence.

The distinctions of names into individual or general,
concrete or abstract, positive or negative, absolute or
relative, do not so uniformly apply to verbs. Verbs
can scarcely be individual to the extent of being proper
names, like the names of persons among nouns; but they
may have various degrees of generality. Thus * bum '
expresses a certain action; * combine chemically' ex-
presses a mere general and comprehensive action. The
auxiliaries have, do, shall, may, may be reckoned verbs
of a highly abstract nature. The most general or ab-
stract of all verba is the verb 'to exist,' or 'to be.' The
distinction of positive and negative applies more directly
to verba than to nouns, inasmuch as these terms imply
affirmation, which is the essence of the verb. Thus we
have to make, to unmake ; include, exclude ; bum,
quench; is, is not, &c. Verbs are absolute and relative
when they correspond to absolute or relative nouns:
thus when we make the noun 'father' a verb (to
father), it is still a relative word.

Since all possible information or knowledge could be
expressed by means of nouns and verba, it has been
supposed by many grammarians that these are the two

CHAMBERS'S INFOttMATTON FOB THE PEOPLE.

ftmdamental purti of ipeech, and that all the other
parts mentioned in grammani — the adjective, pronoun,
•drerb.. preposition, and conjunction — may bo resolved
either into nouns or into verbs, and actually grew out
of them in the progress of human speech. Thus Home
Tooke pointed out the verbs which he conceived to be
the originals of the words — and, but, unleu, that, &c.;
and it is generally admitted that his analysis was to a
great extent very successful. But recent philologists,
German and English, have decisively shown that the
pronouns and the leading prepositions had an origin
quite independent of any other class of words, and
were not derived from either nouns or verbs. Although
it is true that nouns and verbs may serve all the
logical purposes of speech — that is, may suffice to ex-
press all kinds of truth, and all matters of knowledge
and fact — ^yet the dramatic nature of speech demands
something more. Language is in its very origin the
system of forms observed between two intelligent beings
when directing their common attention to some third
object; and it must act so as to enable the one person
to indicate to the other what and where is the thing
to be attended to. It is impossible t) divest human
speech of this character of a threefold reference. It is
only in the most advanced stages of the human reason
that truth assumes a logical, to the exclusion of a
dramatic shape, or that the personality of the speaker
and the person spoken to is omitted from the forms of
statement. ' Do t/iou give me to eat ' is a genuine expres-
sion of primitive man. ' The planets move in ellipses'
is an expression of the human understanding after ages
of scientific and logical cultivation. Hence among the
earliest terms of language are to be found words for
denoting — me, the speaker ; thee, or you, the person
spoken to; and him, her, it, or that, the person or thing
flpoken of. The advance of ceremonial politeness, as
well as of scientific cultivation, causes a departure
from the most direct mode of representing self and
addressing others: thus I passes oflien into we even for
a single person, or into the indefinite pronoun one; and
in writing, to the writer, the author, or the undersigned:
and thou or thee passes into pou, or is substituted by
the proper name of the individual; and you, in a case
of plurality, is converted into some generic name of the
assembly — as men, brethren, countrymen, &c. In like
manner the thiid person comes to be dismissed in
favour of the actual name of the object, and is then
employed only to save too many repetitions of this
name. In consequence of these substitutions, and the
throwing of the pronouns into a secondary position, it
was not unnaturally supposed that names were in-
vented first, and pronouns afterwards; but it is now
ascertained that the contrary is the fact.

The celebrated German philologist Bopp, who was
the first to discover the distinct origin of pronouns and
prepositions derived from them, states that, ' From the
dissection of the pronouns, and of the prepositions con-
nected with them, we pet the following monosyllabic
stems, partly consisting of a mere vowel, which either
occur in Sanscrit only, or are found in the connected
European languages with more or less exact correspon-
dence in form— namely, o, i, m, e ; ka, Af, ku ; na, ni,
nu ; ma, mi (-/it/), mu ; ya, yu ; va, vi : ta, da, sa.
The compound proiiouns- -meaning thereby not deri-
vatives like la-vat, "so much;" but primitives, which
the grammarians consider as simple, but which we
have endeavoured to reduce into their real elements —
show as their first member in Sanscrit a stem con-
sisting of a single rowel; they are the following — a-va,
i-va, i-va, a-na, f-na, a-da, i-da, t-ta, c-ka, i-fha.' Mr
Donaldson,* who has followed up and extended this
discovery, maintains that the three distinct, persons
and positions essential to an actual dialogue are ex-
pressed in the InJo-EuroptMii languages (which include
Sanscrit, Persian, Greek, Latin, German, English, &c.)

* dee Donaldson's New Crstylus, a very able and important
philological work, from which the above exposition of prono-
inlaal roots, 4c. baa been chiefly derived.
28

by words that may be reduced to the three mute eon<
sonants, as their characteristic sounds, variud by the
vocal, nasal, and aspirate forms of each : thus the
labial p he ascribes to the first person, with its corres-
ponding mute alid vocal aspirate, which yield with a
connected vowel, ma, mi, mu, va, vi. The guttural class
of consonants he considers the originals of the second
personal pronouns, giving ka, ki, ya, yu, i, u : and the
dentals furnish the third person, or the remainder of
Bopp's roots, ta, nu, ni, na. It can be shown that tbefie
forms prevail in one or other of the languages of the
Indo-European class, and are at the foundation of all
the pronouns, and many of the prepositions and nume-
rals, as well as of the.inflecting syllables of nouns and
verbs. As they are the most simple, they may be
reckoned among the very first and most essential ut-
terances of human speech: they are the earliest auxi-
liaries of inarticulate signs and gestures, and the first
sounds that become significant and intelligible. Being
in existence from the very beginning, they would be
extensively mixed up and combined with the other
classes of names — the nouns and verbs proper — and
would give the means of varying these to suit variety
of position, circumstances, and other particulars. The
first person denoting self would be extended to mean
here, as distinct from there, which would be marked by
the third person ; and the second person would be con-
nected to denote something intermediate, near here, as
distinct from both here and there. Such is the expla-
nation given of the common origin of the pronouns and
the prepositions of place — such as to, from, near, kc.

Mouns, verbs, and pronominal words, being consi-
dered thus the primitive classes of names, or the pri-
mary parts of speech, we have next to show how the
other parts of speech, as well as the varioui kinds and
inflections of the primitive words themselves, are formed
from these. According to the usual classification, in-
vented by the Greek grammarians, and adopted by the
modem nations, the parts of speech are — the article,
noun, adjective, pronoun, verb, participle, adverb, pre-
position, interjection, and conjunction.

But for our present purpose, it is more convenient to
arrange the parts of speech according as they fall
under the three great divisions — of pronominal words,
nouns, rnd verbs. Under the first, Mr Donaldson
classes personal and other pronouns, numerals, prepo-
sitions, negative and other particles; under the second,
nouns, certain of the prepositions, and adjectives ;
under the third, verbs and M their tenses, moods, con-
jugations, auxiliaries, and participles.

I. The personal Tiro/iouns are the words, /, me, we, iu,
thon, thee, for the first and second persons; and he, she,
it, for the third person, which are also what is called
demonstrative pronouns. The oUlest form of the first
person in all the languages of the Indo-European stock
is me, or an utterance whose essential part is the labial
consonant m. This sound we must regard as the na-
tural and primeval expression of our common progeni-
tors for denoting one's self; it is perhaps among the
very first efforts of human speech, or one of the first
sounds that was connecte with a meaning. The
nominative case of the proiiuun /, used when an action
begins with one's self, as the cause or mover, is of
secondary origin: when its forais, as seen in the San-
scrit and classical languages, are examined, they seem
to show that it was formed out of the m, with certain
additions. It is in Sanscrit, aham, which is resolved
into three parts a-ha-m, each with separate force : the
first a is supposed to bo a form of the demonstrative
pronoun, corresjjonding to our that; Ao is a relative,
like u'ho, and m, the radical of me; the whole expres-
sion, therefore, is an emphatic me, that which me, me as
distinguished from all other agents, movers, or causes
of the act in question.

The plural we, when we ascend to its most primitive

form in Sanscrit, is supposed to be resolvable into ' I

and von here;' it is va-ya-m: va being one of the

labial utterances of tho first person; pa, a faint gut-

I tural, stauduig for the second person; and m, a first

tANGUAQE!.

MHonal root, meaning alio th« here. By a like
analysii of the moit primitive form of tw, it hae been
■uppoied to mean the here taken together; in Suiscrit
it i« aim&n: the < sound ihows the prewnce of a primi-
tire meaning which came to have the force of together,
as in the preposition «yn, inth, which we find in many
of our words obtained from the Oreek ; for example,
eyntheni, eynonyme, sytUax, &c.

A wmilar method^ is applied to show how the second
personal pronoun, with its plural and cases, arose out
of a primitive guttural consonant, which had the force
of thm and ttxre, but which in our language has be-
come a dental vocal aspirate. The r sound, in our
there, is also a primitive element of the Indo-European
stock, and indicates motion: it is of great use in form-
ing words of motion like from, fro, by combining with
the sounds of mere position; from being like the Greek
para, and being -^oiisidered as made up of a labial, or
first personal word, and a sound containing r, its literal
meaning would be as we find it, tnotion ateay from tne
or from here.

The third personal pronoun, and the demonstrative
element, or the thing by which the person speaking
points out to the person addressed the subject that he is
speaking of, is in Sanscrit aa; in Zend or ancient Per-
■ian, ho; in Greek, ho ; in Gothic, *a ; with us, he, hit
(old form of it). Like the first and second persons it
is a primitive utterance, and the source of various other
words. It gives birth to the reflex pronoun se, ae^;
Ainuei!/ being of the force of Aim where you are. The
relative who appears likewise to be derived from it;
and the turn of thought leading to the transition seems
not unnatural. The Latin qui, kui, contains the most
primitive sound of the second person — the mute gut-
tural k. The interrogative pronoun who, quit, and the
indefinite pronoun any one, which in Greek and Latin
are the same as the interrogative, must also be sup-
posed to spring from the same source.

The numeralt have been shown to be derived in the
first instance from the pronouns. The vulgar expres-
sion of * number one,' meaning one's self, is the coun-
terpart of the 'original derivation of one from the first
personal pronoun, as is proved by examining the old
languages. Another derivation of one has been traced
from the word moon or month, as one of the divisions of
the year; it being found that, besides the decimal nota-
tion derived from the fingers, there has also been used
a duodecimal notation from the courses of the moon
and sun. Number two is the second personal pronoun,
thou. The third numeral has in all our tribe of lan-
guages the two consonants t and r; the first being the
simplest root of the third personal pronoun, and the
othtir the sound for motion away from : it is something
like it away there. The four seems to have been a
combination of the original' forms for one and three.
The only others of the ten numerals supposed to be
formed from pronouns are tix, seven, and eight : of these
it is thought that the first has been originally formed
of three Uiree, and the second of three fottr. For five
and ten, and their multiples, it has been proved that
the same root as signifies the hand haa been extensively
employed ; the only one of them where it appears in
our language is hundred. Ten can be shown to come
from two hands. The nine is a form cut down from one
less ten, just as eleven has been one more ten.

The large numbers thousand and million seem to be
names of vast aggregates. The Greek for thousand is
derived from chilos, a heap of fodder; for ^n thousand
it is m,yriad, or a flood of water.

The ordinals first, second, third, &c. are derived from
the cardinals in the early languages by means of a ter-
mination also used as the superlative termination of
adjectives (in Greek, tos), meaning apparently the last
of a series going on from the speaker.

The word muldle, medius, is one of the many deriva-
tives from the tne, the here.

The prepositions have been analysed down to pro-
nominal stems combined with one another, and with
the syllable ra, aignifying motion. Our Jrom, fro^ the

Latin and Onek fro, it an obrioui iTottuioe of the
combination, being a labial for the fimt person or the
here, and an r for motion away from. In the classical
tongues and Sanscrit, a like analysis has been made of
the others. Thus me-ta, here-there, expresses with, and
also close succession and chance. One preposition in
Greek, dia, in English through, is derived from the
second numeral two, which gives it its meaning of divi-
sion into two parts.

Of the parts of speech called particles, the most pro-
minent is the negative no, not. The consonant n ia
the chief sound of thi» negative through all the Indo-
European tongues ; and it is supposed to be a strong
form of tho third personal pronoun, an emphatic there,
in contrast with here, or an expression of not here. Yee
is a form of the second personal pronoun. The dis-
junctive or is derived from the expression of removal
or separation belonging to the r sound.

II. Under the head of the noun we include also the
adjective. In both we have a system of genders, caMi,
and numbers; and in the adjective the comparative
and superlative degrees.

III. The verb presents the varieties of persons, num-
bers (singular and plural), tenses, moods, voices, and
conjugations.

Both nouns and verbs are compound words — ^that it.
any word coming under either of them may be divided
into two parts : one is called the root, and the other it
an addition to it before or after. The root may be sup-
posed to express the naked thing for which the word
stands; the additions are for the purpose of expressing
circumstances regarding it, such as may attach to it ia
common with any other object. By these additions
the cases and numbers of nouns are formed, and the
tenses, &c. of verbs. Thus if the English word pwe
were supposed to be a root, the words formed by adding
syllables to it — such as purity, purifieatixm, impure,
purest — would present examples of the addition of new
general meanings to the original idea; that is, mean-
ings that may be added to a great number of difierent
primitive ideas; for the same terminations ty, fieaiion,
est, and the prefix im or in, may qualify adjectives at
large. One of these terminations, fication (itself a
compound), is seen at first sight to come direct from
a word that can act a separate part — namely, the
Latin verb for • to make,' seen in faction, fact. The
English word mo/te is used in exactly the same way,
as in merry-making (compared mthjoUifieation).

This example will show the nature of inflected words,
such as >Xe cases of nouns and the tenses of verbs.
These are made up by adding tc the root one or more
syllables, which are themselves significant names, al-
though often cut down, for the sake of rapid and easy
pronunciation, so as to become difficult to be identified
or traced to their original. Where the original was a
syllable of several letters, the inflected syllable of the
compound may be only a single letter, or may dis-
appear altogether, while leaving its meaning behind it.

The Greek, Latin, and Sanscrit languages were in-
flected to a very surprising degree. For ' they might
have written,' the Latin can say in one word, seripsis-
sent, which is a coagulation or conglomeration of words
expressing four ideas, each having a separate word in
English. It is still possible to trace each of them, not-
withstanding the shortening and other changes that
have taken place. The bare root, or word for • write'
in the abstract, is scrib ; all the rest of the letters are
employed in giving the circumstances of conditionality,
past time, and action, by a plurality of persons.

The noun in English has only three cases, and of
these the nominative and objective are spelt the same.
The possessive is formed by an inflection containing
the letter ». The plurals are in great part formed by
adding a syllable, also marked by the presence of s.
In the Greek language there are five cases, in Latin
six, in Sanscrit eight ; that is, besides being inflected
to signify possession, a noun in these languages is in-
flected to signify other relations, such as those we
denote by our prepositions to, by, icith, from, &c. If

CHAMBEBEPS INFOBUATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

«r« take th« L»tto noun homo, a man, we ihall find it
to be declined thui —

Noml.^Sw?.'^' homo. •"•"'••!"'•:"?■«??•''•

OmiUra or PoHNdre, hominU, of or belonging to aiiiMi.

DatlT*, homtni, to* nun.

AoouMrtive, homiotm. .mnn (m.ln 'I.»w»m«i ).

Tooattre, »«»«'. ; a perwn).

AbUttTo, homint, by, with, or from a man.

Now grammarianB hare been able to show what the
words are that hare nioit likely been added to, and
fused with, the roots of nouns, to raake these ditterent
cases. For example, the accusative is supposed to be
formed by the locative particle, whose characteristic
letter is m, signifying in a place, or placed, fixed,
■ituated, which is itself of pronominal origin. The
dative is supposed to be filled up by the addition of an
ending signifying in or on, and the ablative by a word
derived from'the second personal pronoun (the thou, or
near here) with motion, so as to come to mean away
from; the genitive or possessive is considered as merely
another form of the ablative, and made up on a similar
idea. In the Indo-Germanic to-.igues, the « is a prevail-
ing letter in the genitive tenaiuatirn, as we see in
English. The plurals, which are also frequently in «,
have not been very distinctly accounted for. With
respect to the genders, which c'o^ect both nouns and
a(\jectlves — and in the classical languages have each a
separate termination — it is supposed that the neuter is
merely a diminution of the masculine, whereas the
feminine is formed bv a separate addition, which in
Sanscrit is the long i sound, mostly changed in Greek
and Latin to a and e. The terminations of the mascu-
line and neuter are apt to bo short, while the feminine
is long. Bonus, bona, bonum, are the masculine, femi-
nine, and neuter of the Latin adjective for good;
honum, the nominative and accusative of the neuter, is
the accusative of the masculine.

The adjective is merely a form of the noun, express-
ing in a somewhat abstract way the class peculiarity of
the things designated by the noun. A noun, if not an
individual or proper name, is the name of a class of
objects that have some common features — as man, lion,
water ; that is to say, there are ceri-.ain constbnt pecu-
liarities attached to each object that we name — a man,
a lion, water; and when we wish to speak of t!ie pecu-
liarities by themselves, we alter the form of the noun,
o; use it without alteration to signify these : thus nuin-
l^e, human, express simply the attributes of man, and
not the object — man. These words are in the form that
may be used in predication or affirmation, as when we
■ay ' forgiveness of injuries is manlike,' or that ' such a
one !s lionlike.' This class of names is what we call
adjectives : they qualify nouns, or help nouns to make
out a desired meaning — as 'fair hair;' and they make
the predicates of propositions. But a great number of
adjectives are derived not from nouns, but from verbs,
or from the words expressly adapted for making affir-
mations or propositions : thus jiul is from the Latin
Terb to order; right from the verb rego, to rule; A// is
from the verb to leave. These adjectives are of the
kind called participles, and are reckoned a part of the
verbs they come from, being one of the regular pro-
ducts of the verb, which in all languages makes pro-
vision for supplying one or more adjectives having its
meaning, and capable of qualifying nouns. We say,

* he has given me a torn book,' where the word torn,
derived from a verb, seems merely to assist in defining
the character of an object that we wish to express. So

* a ruined man,' * a/alien house,' ' a blown bladder.'

Adjectives in qualifying substantives, in the inflected
languages, become masculine, feminine, or neuter to
harmonise with the gender of the substantive. This is
■till seen in French : in English it is unknown.

The comparison of adjectives is one of the earliest
products of language. In the Indo-European languages
the letters I r, one or both, are almost the invariable
cooBonantg of the comparative degree; they may be

derived from la and ra, the third penonal pronoun,
and the particle of motion, as if implying one thing
farther on than another. The superlative in its oldest
form is ta-ma, the third and first personid pronouns,
interpreted to mean the last in a series; in Greek it is
lot, in Latin miw, in English it.

We have already described the intrinsic character of
the verb. We must now endeavour to show how its
various parts are built up by such additions to the root
OS serve to express all the differences of person, num-
ber, time, condition, and action, which may attach to
any one verb.

The person endings of the verb, or the syllables for
expressing /, thou, he, singular, plural, and dual, have
been done away with in modern languages, if indeed
they were ever used in all of them, and in their stead
the actual pronouns are used. We say, ' I give,' when
the Greeks would have said didomi ; and for the other
persons a single word expresses verb and person in
Sanscrit, Greek, and Latin. On examining the syl-
lables which distinguish the persons, it is found that
they are the three personal pronouns in their original
form as used in the objective case: in their oldest
shape they are the syllables mi, «i, ti : dido-mi, I give;
dido-»i, thou givest; dido-ti, he gives. Great modifica-
tions and abridgments came to be made on these pri-
mary forms, but they still continued to be traceable.
Thus in Latin, m, s, t, are the ending letters of the three
persons singular in most of the tenses of the active
verb dabam, dabat, ddbat — /, thou, he, viaa giving. The
tenses of the passive voice — as didomai, I am given-
are supposed bv some to have had originally for their
terminating syllables a stronger form of the same pro-
nominal syllable as makes the endings in the active
voice : the mai may be an abridgment of mami or
mama, a doubling or more intense expression of the me.
The oldest form of the ending of the first person
plural is met, which may be regarded as made up of
me and se, the first and second pronouns, or * I and
you,' which is not an improbable derivation of the ex-
pression for we. In the passive voice this person con-
tains in Greek a th sound (methon), which is thought
to belong to a locative particle, or a particle of place,
and to furnish some contribution to the passive mean-
ing — that is, the meaning of being acted upon, or being
fixed in a position, and therefora passive, or capable only
of being exposed or subjected to action. This idea of
adding a locative particle to make the passive voice
generally, is a supposition thought to be confirmed by
the use of the letter r to make the passive tenses of the
Latin verb. The second person dual and plural in
Sanscrit and Greek is evidently derived from a repeti-
tion of one of the forms of the second person singular.
In the third person plural termination, a syllable equiva-
lent to t/ieg has been traced through several languages.
Next to the formation of the persons is the making
of tenses, or forms of the verb, to signify the varieties
of time and action. An act may be considered, and
requires to be expressed, as present, past, or future; as
complete or incomplete; as momentary or continued;
and all these properties are expressed in the inflected
languages by syllables added to the naked root. Mr
Donaldson has shown that, in the Greek, continuance
is denoted by a reduplication of the chief syllable of
the root. Thus do is the root of ' give;' and the pre-
sent tense, meaning ' I am now continuously giving,' is
didomi ; and the perfect, ' I have been |;iving up to the
present time,' contains the same repetition, ckdoka. For
past time thn letter e is prefixed to the verb, a particle
signifying what is remote or at a distance. For future
time the letter s of the second pronominal element is
mostly what is used, and may be interpreted ' the near,'
or ' the coming.' The position of the particle of past
time at the beginning, and of the particle of future
time at the end of the root, serves to assist each in
pointing out the direction that it has to express; the
prefix is most proper for the past, the suffix for the
future. The future, the indefinite past (as I gave),
and the perfect, have all for their terminations some

LANGUAOE.

fbnn of the second personal pronominal word. In
French, an indefinite past tense is regularly derired
from the future — as lirait, from lirai.

In English, the system of intlccting is very liraite<l,
and must have been so always. There is only one
tense inflection, and that is for converting the present
into the indefinite past; or we may say that an English
verb has only two tenses; all the other varieties of
time and mood being made up by the auxiliary verbs
do, have, will, thall, can, may. There are two different
ways of forming the past tenso from the present — one
by adding the syllable ed, which often passes into a (
sound; the other by a change in the internal vbwel of
the verb. The first is the simplest, and is called the
weak declension; the other is called the strong declen-
-ion. The use of ed must be explained on the prin-
ciples already illustrated in the Oreek verb : it is a
significant syllable, implying some such idea as dis-
tance, or a thing done and departed. It may spring
from the same original root as our words thtfe and
thou, which are characterised by tho aspirated d. The
other change, as in come, came, ipeak, spake, fall, fell,
is .more difficult to trace to its first origin : it is ana-
logous to the style of inflection in the Hebrew lan-
guage as distinguished from the system of the Latin,
Greek, and Sanscrit ; which lost proceeds by adding
syllables, as in the case of the ed. There must no
doubt be something natural in altering the stress and
direction of the voice, as by changing from a short
vowel to a longer, or from a weak to a strong, when we
wish to distinguish a thing post and gone from an act
now going on; and although the impulse which leads
to internal inflection is different from the one leading
to external inflection, being more emphatic and deter-
mined, it is still a genuine and not inexplicable im-
pulse of the human mind. The past termination d is
common to all the Gothic languages.

The various moods of the verb — the subjunctive, op-
tative, imperative, and infinitive — require and admit of
explanations of the 8.<vme tenor as the tenses, especiallv
in the inflected tongues. Our own language, which
forms the subjunctive and potential moods by auxili-
aries, shows the connection of these with the tenses of
the indicative : thus from ' I shall go,' or the future,
we have ' I should go ' of the conditional or subjunc-
tive mood. The imperative mood is generally a very
naked form of the verb — that is to say, it contains the
root with a very weak addition when there is any at
all. The infinitive is the form suited to the gram-
matical use of the verb as a noun; tho participle is the
form of the verb that acts the part of an adjective.
The infinitive, in our language, to do, to come, expresses
the mere state of action without circumstance of any
kind; the participle expresses the state of action with-
out reference to person, but with the other circum-
stances that would be expressed by a tense, such as
time present or post, action finished or unfinished. In
English, there is only one inflected participle, which
ends in ing. It corresponds in time and action to the
present tense : / come and coming axe the same in these
two respects. A pnst participle active is formed by
the auxiliary having, and the past tense come; a past
participle passive by being, and the same past tenbo.
In Greek, there are numerous participles and infinitives
both; the infinitives being varied to suit time and ac-
tion. The English participial termination ing is said
by Richardson to be formed by the Anglo-Saxon infi-
nitive an, and the termination ig, which is reckoned of
the same primary meaning as the past termination ed;
in other words, the jjarticiple or adjective form of the
verb arose out of the infinitive or noun form.

The adverb is a form of the adjective, used in quali-
fying verbs as the adjective qualifies nouns — as 'he
fought bravely.' The termination Ig is the word liAe.
Verbs not being susceptible of masculine, feminine, and
neuter forms, as in the case of nouns, adverbs cannot
have the same inflections of gender as adjectives,
neither can they have the case inflections. They are
mostly derived from adjeotires; but some of them, as

now, then, Iierj, thefe, must be nckoned of pronominal
origin.

The prepotitiona have already been alluded to as the
immeduite offshoots of the pronouns. In English, thev
are in, on, of, at, up, by, to, for, from, till, leith, Ihrow/h,
&c. They can all be traced to a few simple relations
of position, such aa we have seen in describing the pri-
mary pronominal situations.

The ooi^'unc^ioiw were successfully identified by Home
Tooke with the imperatives of verbs: and is add; if,
give; yet, get; though, from alloii ; hut, be out, kc.

Interjectiont can scarcely be called parts of speech:
they are not the names of objects, nor are they used for
giving information about anything. They are mere
isolated exclamations, like the howl of a dog, or the
song of a bird, inspired by some present feeling or sen-
sation, but not subject to the laws of articulate speech.
Some forms of them are derived from regular names of
objects, such as the various forms of interjuculatory
oaths and asseverations.

ORIGIN AND PROOREES OP LANOUAGE IN GENERAL.

Having discussed the various classes of words called
parts of speech, and shown that there are certain of
them that give birth to all the others, we have now to
consider the actual process of the invention, and gra-
dual improvement of language as a whole. The first
beginnings of human civilisation are necessarily very
obscure, from their being anterior to history, and un-
like any experience that we now possess. This is
almost as true of every other department as of lan-
guage. The first use of tools, the origin of the forms
and ceremonies of social intercourse and religious wor-
ship, the commencement of the fine arts— of music,
dancing, painting, sculpture, architecture, &c., the pri-
mitive organisation of human society, the beginnings of
scientific speculation and knowledge, are all exceed-
ingly dark and doubtful. We can but dimly imagine
how humanity made the first step in any great walk of
human life; and yet we have experience enough of the
inventive genius of man, to know that all that has been
done is within the range of its powers.

It has been usual to call language a thing of purely
divine origin, proceeding as directly from the Creator
of the world as the being of man himself. This opinion
has been sought to be supported partly by a peculiar
mode of interpreting the Mosaic account of the creation,
and partly by the supposed incapability of mere human
genius to give birth to such a wonderful structure. But
this view cannot be maintained without endless per-
plexities and assumptions. Wo cannot show that the
difference between language and other inventions is so
great that the one surpasses, while the other comes
within, the powers of the human mind ; and so much
of language can be shown to be the result of man's own
agency, that it is impossible to draw anv line between
what he received by inspiration and what he formed
by art. At all events, if the origin and progress of
language is to be subject of investigation and in-
quiry, like the history of any other branch of civilisa-
tion, we must proceed on the principle, as put by Che-
valier Bunsen, that ' in philology, as in geology, no
forces are to be assumed but such as are still known to
operate.' If this is not granted in reference to any
subject, it is put beyond the bounds of the human in-
tellect. We must endeavour to detennine how iar the
inventive capacity of man, so wonderfully exhibited
within the periods authentically known, and from its
very nature equally strong at all stages of civilisation,
may have sufficed to originate the machinery and insti-
tutions that preceded the dawn of recorded history. It
must be distinctly kept in view that the ancestors of
the civilised races were not savages in the same sense
as the Africans, New Zealanders, or Red Indians, who
must be regarded as the imbeciles of the human family:
they were men of the same natural capacity as their
own descendants, and produced, every now and then,
superior geniuses in all departments of life, and by
these they were initiated iut* all the works of improve^

CHAMBEItS'S niFOBlCAnON FOB THE PEOPLC

ment thftt they hiuded down to their porterity. Ori-
ginal geniui is mot powerful and fresh iu the infancy
of the world. When a great deal hai been once catab-
liihed, the necessity of creation is lew felt, and the
force of routine is opposed to innovations. But an in-
rentire mind, in circumstances whore everything has
to be done, works without check or obstruction from
existing interests, and puts forth its hishest powers
with full effisct. The invention of a rocabulary of words
Is not a thing utterly unknown to modem mon. The
technical names of trades and crafts are the invention
of the workmen, and are often as independently created
or invented as the very earliest words of human speech.
No one will venture to say that the slang of thieves is
of divine origin, and yet a great part of it is wholly
underived from the language of common society, and
pui«ly the invention of the profession itself, or rather
of that class of original minds in the profession whose
genius lies in the way of expression. We must there-
fore endeavour to account, on the principles of human
nature, for the invention of words, and their combina-
tions; or we must show how it is possible that the
thing could have been done, and confirm our explana-
tion by what is actually found in the languages with
the origin of which wo are acquainted.

I. In the first place, the principle of imitation can
account for the invention of a certain number of words;
especially such as aro the names of sounds, or of things
that have some sonorous accompaniment or effect. Thus
cuckoo is Ci palpable imitation of the cry of the bird.
Buzz, whizz, emck, clap, hist, murmur, are also pro-
duced by the force of direct imitation. All men have
this faculty, and some men have it in a very high
degree : and it is possible to produce by the human
voice nn articulate sound similar to, or in imitation of,
the greater number of natural sounds. A single man
of fine ear and delicate organisation — such a man as
we commonly find in a good speaker or actor — could
furnish imitative articulations for sounds to any extent
that might be required; and we can have little doubt
that the existing imitative sounds were first suggested
by such more than ordinarily-gifted men. It is not
every one that could create such imitations as crack,
bun, hiM, rumble, &c.; but every tribe among the supe-
rior races would now and then produce an individual
capable of the effort.

The names of the parts connected with the articu-
lating organs themselves would be formed by sounds
associated with those parts. Thus it might be expected
that to express the lips and mouth, labial letters would
be chosen; to express the ieeth, we ought to find a
acntal sound; and for the throat something guttural, as
appears from the fact in all these instances. So the
words gape, yaum, chew, are most obviously formed by
articulations as nearly as possible coinciding with the
actions that they describe.

II. It is only a very limited class of objects, however,
that give forth an imitable sound, such as to suggest
their articulate designation or name. The sun, the stars,
the sky, the earth, the mountains, rocks, trees, and
flowers, are distinguished by expressive silence rather
than by audible accompaniments. This, however, only
leads us a step farther into the powers and capacities of
the human mind. Alete imitation, as when we mimic
the cry of an animal, or chalk out the resemblance of
ft visible thing, or carve a fac-simile of any material
object, is but an inferior effort of the human powers,
although it is the utmost that some races are capable
of. There is, over and above this faculty, a deeper
and grander power, which is vaguely represented by
such terms as creati>e art, artistit: genius, the capacity
of making harmonies, and many other phrases, which
signify that there is such a thing as a common eflwt
upon the intellectual and artistic faculties of man, by
objects that are very different to the outward sense,
and that the human mind has the power of recognising
and of producing such harmonious concords of the
unlike. Sound and motion are very different sensa-
tions, and yet it is well kdown that a eet of souiuls can
2G

harmonise with, and coincide with the effect of, a let
cf motions on the mind, aa we see in much and dance
music. So there are strains of music that suit each
different kind of outward spectacle or scenery ; the
impressions of sight and sound, however different on
their first entrance through their respective senses, may
have a closely -agreeing or harmonious effect on the
inward mind. So it is with all the senses; there li
scarcely an impression made on any one of them that
would not be suited or harmonised by some one im-
pression on every other. The finer the organisation of
the mind, the more keenly alive it is to such harmonies,
and to their contradictions or to discords.

But man can not only feel these harmonies of things
sensibly unlike, he can also create them; at least some
men, who are gifted above their fellows, are able to do
so. An artistic genius cau make objects of a totally
different outward form and character agree in produc-
ing a harmonious feeling. They may be things of the
same sense, as the parts of a temple, or the objects of
a picture; or they may be objects of different senses,
as when music is compooed for marching, dancing, or
sta^e spectacle; or when words are used to celebrate
actions, events, and natural grandeur. Present any
visible object to an artist of genius, and he will, accord-
ing to the turn of his genius, either find another visible
thing to chime in with it into a beautiful whole, or
utter a sound that is felt to accord with its impression
on the mind. Suiting the sound to the sense, the word
to the action, is well known to be one of the charac-
teristics of the poetic faculty. The following stanza
from Keats's ' Ode to the Nightingale,' exhibits this
quality in a degree that has probably never been sur-
passed. The language descriptive of each abject is felt
almost to realise the object itself —

' Oh for a draught of vintage, that hath been
Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth.
Tasting of Flora and the country green.

Dance, and Provencal song, and sunbumt mirth I
Oh for a beaker full of the warm south,
Full of the true, the blushful Hlppoorene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim.
And purpla-3tained mouth ;
That I might drink and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dhn.'

Now there is no difference between efforts of human
genius such aa this, and the invention of the^ first
sounds used in connection with nameable objects; ex-
cept that in the one articulations already formed are
made use of to make new combinations, whereas, in
the other, the articulations themselves are struck out
for the first time. But this makes no difference in
the nature of the effort itself. All our poetic geniuses
could create original words at pleasure, if that were
still necessary and allowable; and in fact they occa-
sionally do so. Any one acquainted with the works
of Burns will remember many such instances, which
it is not necessary to quote here ; and it will be easily
seen that it was quite within tbe range of the poet's
genius, and was even a tendency that it had to deal
more largely in this kind of creation. If Bums had
been produced among some of the weak-minded African
tribes, he would have given them not merely a new
poetry, but a new and expressive vocabulary ; and
would have been delighted with an opportunity so con-
genial to his faculties. The same remarks might be
applied to Chaucer, Shakspeare, Keats, or any other
poet whose genius lay strongly in power of diction.

What we assert, therefore, is, that the words not
derivetl by direct imitation could have been formed
by the genius of man through the deeper harmonies of
things, and through the power of creating such har-
monies. Moreover, it can be shown that every language
does tend to harmonise with the things expressed by
it, and did so perhaps still more at an early period of
its growth. For it must also be taken into account,
that when a name has a felt harmony, or mental
coincidence with the thing, it ii easily retained iu the

tiANGtJAORi

Korae one im-

m«morjr, and euily diftViied and caught hj th« rarioui
indiriduals of a tocietv; in fact, every luoh name it
a iiroke of art, reoeiTed and relished a* luch, as well
as being a handle to an object, and useful in social
intercourse. It would be impossible, by any power
ever eiercised over a multitude of men, to ^et them
to adopt a set of insipid, inexpressive, or discordant
vocables; and it would be equally impossible for human
nature to produce them ; nor can it be supposed that
the Creator, granting Him to have been the direct
author of speech, would have inspired such a species
of sounds; it is more likely that He would have sur-
passed the genius of man, and made our languages more
harmonious than we find them, which they could very
well afford to be. The highest genius being but rare
in all ages, this work must often have been done, or
leil undone, by an inferior order of minds.

It will not require many examples to show how
deeply the principle of harmony enters into the
vocables of speech. The * ohoi' of sailors is a familiar
instance of an articulate accompaniment to an action,
and prepares us to expect that the current name of it
and similar actions should contain the same sound,
as we actually find la • hoist,' ' heave,' * haul,' * hurl,'

* hurry,' * high,' and in • h^ad,' if this be derived, as
Home Tooke suggests, from 'heaved.' The Scotch
words 'sich' (sigh), and 'pech' (pant), show the
same suiting of the word to the action. The words
•bound,' 'burst,' 'quick,' are obviously suggested by
the character of the movements they ap^ly to ; * strength '
and * stress' are the natural accompaniments of strong
exertion, like the 'ohoi.' The word 'vast' is an ex-
pression of the speaking organs suited to the effect of
a certain kind of spectacle on the organs of sight,

• Rough ' and • smooth ' are the harmonies of peculiar
sensations of touch; 'smack' is a word accompanying
a peculiar flavour or relish. The word ' fresh ' has a
very strong coincidence of effect with the quality which
it represents. ' Raw' is albo a very expressive utterance
for one of our sensations. The r sound, from its vibrat-
ing character, is the natural expression of any effect
that causes a shivering or tremor of the flesh.

Many more examples of the same kind will suggest
them selves to the reader. We have been able to give
but a very limited illustration of such a wide ranging
principle. It might be shown, in addition, how every
emotion of the mind which objects can produce inspires
an appropriate articulate harmony.

Mr Richardson, the author of the English Dic-
tionanr, has made an ingenious attempt to connect a
few of the letters of the alphabet with extensive classes
of allied meanings. Thus the labial sounds 6, m, v, f,
are the first uttered by children, and enter largely into
the terms for the parental relations, and into the ex-
pression of life, mind, motion, &c. Thus we have
father, mother, JUial, babe, boy, mind, motion, vital. So
he finds in the gutturals q, k, the notion of eke, or in-
create', in the n, one, union, unite, and the general idea
of these. R is much connected with the expression of
motion, and frequently gives the force of before; st has
a wide application as a disjunctive syllable.

Having illustrated the origin of sounds by imitation
and harmonious creation, we have next to trace the
extension of these primary sounds by the force of the
associating principles of the human intellect. The
two fundamental laws of association are expressed by
the terms contiguity and similarity, and both are of
extensive operation in the growth of language,

III. When two things frequently accompany one an-
other in our view, the one comes to be able to suggest
the other. The name of a person may be formed by ihe
creative faculty direct, or it may be the name of some
adjunct inseparably connected or associated with him,
as his territory or land, his office, or some of his deeds
or attributes. In this last case there may be no essen-
tial harmony between the sound and the aspect of the
person. Many objects are named by contiguity in this
way: churches are named from saints, and parishes
and Tillages from churches. Towns are named from

w»lli, riren, mountabi, or other adjoining objects that
have been able to originate a name for themselves.
Objects discovered for the first time are called after
their discoverers; eiT^cts are named from their causes;
and causes from their effects. Rhetoricians have an
express designation fo) '-is process of naming: it is
said to be by meUmomy^ y accompaniment,

IV, Equally extensive >.. .be operation of limilarily, or
the extension of a name from one thing to another resem-
bling it; which will in some cases tend to preserve tho
harmonious character of the original name. Thus the
word mouth is applied to a great number of objects that
are supposed to have the character of an opening: so
yawn is extended to outward things, analogous to the
original action. The whole range of what is called
metaphorical terms, of which every language is full, are
formed on the same principle,

V, Sometimes names are constructed out of several
words or syllables takon from different objects, it beins
necessary in some cases to apply the names of several
qualities to describe what is meant ; as when we say, * a
coat of many colours,' ' black beetle,' ' moss rose,' ' steam-
boat.' The commonest case of construction is when a
noun is qualified by an adjective, as 'green fields;' in
the systematic naming of objects of natural history
this combination is adopted. Another extensively used
instance is the addition of qualifying terminations to
words — good-neat, god-like or godly, fiam-ing. The class
of inflected words already alluded to exemplify the
same principle : they result from the desire of the
human mind to give a unity to each compound name,
and for that purpose to fuse the syllables into one con-
tinued utterance. The creation of compound names is
a work of human genius not unlike any other effort of
constructive combination.

It has been repeatedly shown by writers on language,
that individual and concrete names are the .first in-
vented, and that general and abstract names are sub-
sequently formed out of them. There is a word in-
vented for some one river before there is a general name
for rivers; and the term for some particular white
object would be likely to give the abstract terms tehite,
and whiteness. We see this still exemplified in a few
of the names of colours — as 'claret,' 'orange,' 'sky-
blue.' The very abstract property of 'electricity' is
named from amber, one of the first objects that the
property was observed on. ' Geometry' is the measur-
ing of land, to which particular case the science was
originally applied.

With respect to the fonnation and 'growth of the
several parts of speech, we have already seen that nouns,
verbs, and pronominal words, are the original stems,
and that all the others are derived from these. The
pronominal words are the direct suggestions of the
human faculties in the circumstances that they express.
The nouns and verbs are the names of objects at largo;
and it would happen sometimes that the first name
that an object suggests is a verb, and at other times it
would be a noun. Verbs express action, and, as such,
they are most in harmony with the articulate expren-
sion of man, which is itself an action. In fact, when a
thing perfectly lifeless and motionless suggests a har-
monising utterance, it must be in consequence of some
secondary impression that it produces, relative to mo-
tion or force, such as the effect of a heavy mass, a con-
fined cavity, or an open space. Perhaps in the greater
number of cases a verb is the first form of the word,
which is subsequently turned into a noun. Thus the
word 'stamp' is evidently the harmonic of an action,
and is primitively a verb; being afterwards used as
a noun to express the thing left or produced by the
action. It has been remarked that many of the roots
of the Hebrew language are impersonal verbs, or verba
that express merely the action without the person or
object, like our verbs, ' it rains,' ' it snows,' The impera-
tive mood of the verb is generally the least inflected,
and it may be supposed that some of the earliest ex-
pressions of action would be in the form of command.
But with respect to the derivation of nouna from verbs,

CHAMBSBffS INFOHMATION FOR THE PEOPLt!.

Horn* Tooke hu pointed out » mat numbar of
in Engliih where the pMt participJei of verbe are con-
rerted Into nouni; and many of thoee eo derired are
among tho nioit important in the language. Thue
faint, gift, joint, cltfl, drift, ihtifl, want, drauaht, rent,
'mall, Mtem, /naven, daim, yam, aro all of tbii character;
and it ii eoiy to tee that the objecti they expreie are,
or are luppoied to be, the reeulti of the actioni desig-
nated by the verbe they proceed from. On the other
hand, thoie are undoubtedly many coeei where the
noun hai been the primitive form, and hoe given birth
to A verb; a proceii we itill lee exempliftod, ai when
we ipcak of tabling, flooring, housing, kc. The Bsio-
ciation of iiieai ii very obvious in these instances.

Of the formation of the other parts of speech, to-
gether with the inflections of verbs and nouns, we have
already spolcen. Tho laws of the human intellect can
fully explain the tendency to make inflected or com-
pound words ; that is to say, the process is one of the
well-known operations of the human mind. VVe fre-
quently require to construct an object that will have
many qualities, or serve many purposes: every ma-
chine, every plan of complicated operations, every dis-
course, is such a construction. When we wish to ex-
press an idea that has many particulars, we seizen
number of separate names, and join thom together in
tho best way we can, or according to our taste, so as at
once to include what we moan to affirm, and exclude
what is foreign to tho purpose. We may at tho same
time desire brevity of utterance, and in that case we
fuse and contract the separate words as much as pos-
sible; wo may wish for melody or fine cadence, and as
our ability servos us, we impress this character on tho
combination. Different peoples have had different fan-
cies and very unequal capacities in respect to this con-
structive operation. Some, like the Chinese, have not
been able to combine elementary words into perfect
compounds that sound as flowingly as a single syllable;
while the Grockd and their ancestors could do so to the
utmost perfection. Our own language is about midway
between the Chinese and the Sanscrit, or between the
system of tho eternal separation of roots, and the system
of harmonious aggregation into inflected words can-y-
ing multiple meanings.

Inflected languages, if the inflections aw subject to
the laws of harmonious utterance (which in many coses
they are not), servo tho purposes of oratory and poetry
in a very high degree. Uninflected languages may
have the superiority as tho medium of prosaic com-
munication and scientific analysis, if they ore well
formed in certain other respects.

Sentences or successions of words naturally follow the
order of the things to be expressed: if they relate to
events, it will be in the order of time; if actions, the
order of cause and effect. But the natural order may
be reversed from the feelings of the speaker, or from a
wish to make a certaiq musical effect on tho language,
in addition to the communication of the thought.

The progress and development of a language are
influenced by many causes. Besides enlarging the
hiiMia by inventing new words, and extending the appli-
cations of the old, there is a constant tendency to abbre-
viation which goes on modifying the original sounds.
A people's language is expanded by their discoveries
in the material or mental world, and by their advance
in science, arts, and civilisation in general. It is also
made an object of /express cultivation for its own sake
in all improving nations, and is controlled by artistic
genius, and by artificial laws of pronunciation, gram-
mar, rhetoric, and criticism. The love of novelty will
cause innovations, and produce fiishions in speech as in
other matters; but being a thing impressed upon the
minds of men at their most susceptible season, and
being intensely riveted by daily use, it comes to be
among the most permanent of human acquisitions.

Language is also exposed to many changes and

riodifications by the intercourse of difierent nations.

Tills cause has sometimes gone so far as t'j suppress one

language almodt entirely, and to substitute a foreign

tongu* in its it«ad. But the amount of this Influence
may be more or less, and it has been exemplified in
many different degrees in the history of the world. If
one nation merely trades with another at some dis-
tance, it will import, with the foreif;ii commodities, the
names that are given them by the other nation; if the
opportunity of intercourse leads to the exchange of
customs, ideas, and institutions in general, the names
of these may also be acquired, just as the French use
many of the Knglish phrases for tho steam-engine.
Colonisation in a country already peopled is a further
step, and has a still greater influence; but the peculiar
effect that takes place will depend on the characters of
the two peoples. If the one is more intellectual and
more advanced, more resolute and more wedded to iti
practices than the other, the language of the stronger
will be likely to be imposed more ur less on the weaker.
But if the colonists are not accompanied by women, and
are obliged to adopt wives from the inhabitants that
they settle among, the next reneration will have more
of the la< guage of their mothers than of their fathers,
and a modified form of the aboriginal speech will be
maintained. The same fact holds true of invasions and
conquests like the Saxon and Norman settlements in
Kngland. On the other hand, in the German conquests
of the Roman Empire in tho fifth century, which were
made by nations migrating in mass, the tongue of the
invauers was more likely to be sustaiuid. It would
then depend upon tho relative numlerii of conque-
rors and conquered, and their relative « nerey, gene-
ral superiority, and self-will, which of ifie mngungei
should give way, and to what extent. In genemi, in
every invoaion, the portions of the conquered people's
language which are most liable to alt°vitt(on are the
names of ranks, oflices, forms of admini&knvtion, and
everything connected with the general government of
the country. The spreotl of religion among a people
afl'ects their laTigua^o along with their whole manner
of thinking and feeling. The same obtains in a minor
degree in any new sciences, arts, knowledge, doctrines,
or institutions that may be communicated to a nation
in anvway whatever. If cont^iiest or intercourse change
the character of a p« o^'o* >t will by that fact alone
change their language Any other circumstance modi-
fying national character, such aa emigration to new
settlements, .rill have the same effect.

Among the circumstances which act in modifying the
use of speech, none is more important than the art of
writing. It would be interesting to imagine the origin
and progress of written languaj;e, in the way we have
endeavoured to explain the career of spoken language.
We might, in so doing, show the action of the same laws
of human nature in a different class of circumstances.
Every people of superior character would, in addition
to their spoken signs, create an independent class of
written signs, which last would, in fact, in some respects
be the easier effort of tho two. Mere imitation, or
picture-drawing, would suffice in this case, for there is
no object but what has a visible form, or may be easily
associated with such ; and after the mechanical art of
drawing has been once acquired, the means of indi-
cating the objects of communication and thought would
be unlimited. The weak point of picture-writing is
seen in attempting the expression ul' action and chains
of events; but this difficulty has not been found in-
superable. Examples of successful picture-writing have
been funiished by many nations — such as the Egyp-
tians, Mexicans, and Chinepe. The abbreviations that
would necessarily be made for the sake of saving time
would very much diininiih the exactness of resem-
blance; but so long as the meaning was understood,
this would be of littlo moment to the people them-
selves. This, however, renders it difficult now to trace
each mark or sy'tnbol to its original imitative form ;
but not so much so as to obliterate altogether the
evidence of the fact.

The invention of an alphabet is a totally distinct
step from the formation of a picture language. It is a
vast stride in advance, arising out of the simuUaneoua

LANOVAOE.

UM of both ipoken aiid ptotured •Igni ft>r tb« Mme
objeoti. To illuitrftto thii proooM we ihalt imagine on
iiiitonoo of a famtliiir kind. Huppoie the Mund Am
wen Mlopted m the hnnnonio articulation, or tpoken
name of tiie inwet to called with u*; and luppoM alio
that, ouite independent of the epokcn name, a pioturad
iroltatioh had neon formed of^ the lanio object, and
abbreviated or limnlified as much a« waa coneiitent
with characteriitic diatinctneu. The object would thui
have two niarki, one to the ejre and one to the ear; and
by the aaaociation of idea*, the two marki would b« con-
nected in peoples' minda, §o that on leeins the picture
they would be reminded of the eound, and on hearing
the sound they would be reminded of the picture. Sup-
pose, next, that some other object had acquired a name
where the b sound occurred, without liaving yet ac-
quired a pictorial representation. In such a case it
would be very natural, instead of making a new draw-
ing, to employ the one already corresponding to the
sound in a well-known instance: this would not picture
the object to the eye, but it would suggest its name to
the ear, and be at least as effectual as the mention of
the name in speech. If the word contained two cha-
racteristic sounds, aa bed, and if the character for a bee
were joined with another character derived in the same
way lor the d sound, an alphal)etic representation of
bed would be the result. In the first stages of the
alphabet, the vowels and consonants were not perfectly
distinguished; each letter was a simple syllable, having
the force of a vowel and consonant joined. This expla-
nation of the origin of the alphabet is completely con-
firmed by tho structure of the Hebrew letters, which
are the originals of all the Kuropean alphabets.

Tho art of writing tends to fix a language, and erect
for it a standard of grammar and spelling, by placing
it under the control of tho learned classes of a nation.

THK LANOUAOES OP TIIE OLOBE.

.\fter expounding the essential structure of language,
and the principles of the human mind that determine
its origin and growth, the next object should be to
enumerate and classify thj actual languages of tho
human race, to specify their distinctive peculiarities,
and to illustrate by means of them the general prin-
ciples previously laid down. Out, not to speak of the
limits of this treatise, the complete examination of the
languages of the globe is at present very for from being
complete, and the analysis of such as are known is
spread over many hundreds or thousands of volumes.
We must be content, therefore, with stating the usual
classification that has been adopted, with a few remarks
on a limited number of individual tongues. The grand
divisions correspond with the divisions of races uid
nations described under Ethnolooy.

Indo-European Languages.

The names Indo- Germanic and Indo-European are
given to a class of languages that prevail from the East
Indies, through the west of Asia, and across the whole
of Europe to the Atlantic, They are also called Ira-
nian, from Iran, the ancient name of Persia, and the
name of the lesser of tho two table-lands of Asia,
nearly coinciding with the empire of the ancient Modes
and Pcrsiaus. This Persian table-land ij supposed to
have been the original scat of the Indian and Euro-
pean nations, from which they migrated and conquered,
some eastward upon Hindoostan, others westward upon
Europe, giving rise to the chief of the moderu Euro-
pean nations.

ThcbO languages and nations have been divided into
High and Low, from the supposed primitive geogra-
phical position of the different peoples. The high
languages are belioved to have sprung more imme-
diately from the high land of Persia, and the low from
the adjoining lower country of Media, The Classical,
tiermanic, and Celtic stocks of the tribe, are each
divided into a high and low division; and there is
found to be a closer analogy between the high and the
low divisions respectively of each stock, than between a

high division ol . « low divis . of anothor W»

diall first state tli< lUviduals of e tribe iu «»>
graphieal order, ami uext iudloM* ihe hi|^ & >«ff
divisions ; —

I. The •9<mjcrl<, containing all the Uialerts iiuo
doostan derived from the Sanscrit.

I I. The Pertian, ancient, middle, and modi? . tko
ancient Persian, of which books still remaiii 't^ I
the /end, and is the langunge chietly used m lu mi,,
comparisons with the ancient Sanscrit, Ureek, Latin,
and other toncues of the Indo-Oermanio family. It
includes the allied tongues of Curdistan, Affghanistan,
Belooohistan, and Docharia.

The Armenian and Ueoruian stocks have a geographi-
cal position adjoining tho Persian, but their extent v.ud
importance are uomparativoly small. ' The Ossetic, a
language spoken by un insulated tribe of Mount Cau-
casus, and a supposed remnant of the ancient MudtMl/ *
is Indo-European.'

III. The Ciantical, embracing the Greek a.td Lulin,
and the tongues alllvd to these in ancient and mudcni
times. Tho moden< French, Italian, Spanish, and
Portuguese, are derived from the Latin.

IV. The Slavonic, including the Kussiau, Polish, and
Itohemian languages, and those of a great part of tho
countries in Europe subject to the Turkish empire —
the Servians, Croatians, I'ransylvanians, &c.

V. The Lithnanic stock, including the Livonian (or
Lettish) of Livonia and Courland, the old Prussian,
and the Lithuanian of Lithuania.

VI. The Qothic or (Jerroanic languages, including
the Scandinavian branch, or the Norwegian, Swedish,
Danish, Icelandic, and Foroic; aud the Teutonic branch
or tho High Gennan (whose ancient form is called the
Mojso-Gothic), and the Low German tongues — namely,
Dutch, Anglo-Saxon, and English.

VII. The Celtic, which has six different branches —
the Cymric or Welsh, tho Coniish (extinct), the Armo-
(ican, or dialect of Brittany in France, the Irish, Scotch
Gaelic, aud the Manx of the Isle of Man.

It is understood that in a historic point of view the
so-called low languages are the oldest of the two ; an
opinion which contradicts many beliefs formerly pre-
vailing, such as that Greek is a more ancient formation
than Latin.

The high languages of the family are considered to
be High Persian or Parsi, tho Greek branch of the
classic stock, the High German, aud tho first throe
Celtic tongues mentioned above — Welsh, Cornish, and'
Breton. The low languages are the Sanscrit, the Zend
or Low Persian, Latin, Slavonian, Lithuanian, Low
German, and Low Celtic or Irish, Scotch, and Manx.
This classification is found to be supported by tho
closer analogy that exist throughout each class, than
if no such distinction was made.

Other European languages not of this family are tho
Albanian, the Basque or Biscayau, the Turkish, the
Maltese, the Calmuck of the Crimea, the Hungarian
or Magyaric, the Esthonian, the Finnlandic and Lap-
ponic. It has been attempted to include all or most of
these in another great family or tribe along with the
Tartars of Central Asia.

The most interesting point in reference to the Indo-
European languages, is the fact of their family resem-
blance. Considering the remoteness of the various
peoples from one another, the very little intimacy tliat
there has been among them, and the mutual uniutelli-
gibility of their spoken tongues, it is surprising to learn
that there is at bottom a very close identity of words
and forms between the most distant members of tho
family. We shall here present a short table of words
running through all the languages, choosing such as
are the names of the most prominent and indispensable
objects of human speech. The following list is selected
from Winning's ' Manual of Comparative Philology:' —

/^a(A«>'.— Sanscrit, pitar; Zend, paitar; Persian,
pader; Greek aud Latin, pater; Slavonic, bat; Gothic,
fadrein; Low German, fader; Old High Gcnuan, vatar;
Erse, athair.

■29

CHAMBERS'S INFOBMATIOir FOR THB PEOPLE.

MoiKtr.—6eH. m»Ur; Z. tMUti Pm. ni»d«r; Omk,
mtler: Uiin. iu»t«r; Li»hu»iiUn, inoUr ; Utiiih,
matfl ; Did Pruiiiwj, n-uU j U* iii. inuol*', inuUer,

AtMuAter.-Mor. duhlUrj Z.dughdiuuri Pen.dokhUr;
OmikTthuRater; Hl»». dochler; l-i»b. dukUri O. Pr.
duokti: tloth. diuhlw; Heriii. lochtor; hrN, dew.

i»ro<A*r.— »cr. b'raUr; /. br»Ur; I'ew. braderj Ut.
fr»tM; <lr«.k, fr»tr» (• (rnUn.ity); SUr brat't (>. IT.
brftUi Oo'k. brothwi Scwiduiftvim, brwlur; O. Hish
(lerinMi, pruodw; 0«nn»u, brudcrj En», b»th»lr;
Welsh, br»wd,

(iod.~»i:r. dcTMj Z. dairMi Pert, and Rum. diw (tb*
e»il M)lrU); Lilh. dieww; Lett, dwwi) (>. Pr. d«i«ri;
L»t. daui; UrMk, tteo»i Erte, din; VVelili, duw;
ScundinftTiwi, ty-r. „ , . , . . „ „

j,y_Scr. aki'i; Z. M'i ; Lith. nkii; O. Pr. «okU;
IiDlt. Mi; MUt. oko; I.«t. uoului; (loth, augo; derm.

TouM.— Scr. daiitae; I'er*. dendan; Lith. dantii; Or.
o-dontei (teeth); I<at. deni; (ioth. thuntui; Dan. tand;
O. Engl, tain; Kne, dend; Welsii, liint.

Foot.—^r. padai; /. ]iad'ae; P. pa; (Jr. Lat. podes,
pedei (feet) i Lith. padaa ; Lett, pehda ; f li>th. futus ;
liurtu. fuH.

Sun, — Scr. hailii ; dr. holioi ; Welah, haul, heol ;
Lut. lol; SUr. kolnxe; Lith. laule; Lott. »:jautu; dotli.
cauil; Scand. loel; Ene, laiile.

Water, — 8or. uda; Lat. udua, unda; Or. hudor; Slav,
voda; Lith. vandu; Lett, udeiia; (>. Pr. unda; .Sciviid.
iidr ; Goth, vato; O. 11. derm, wa/.ar; (ierni. wusavr;
Krae, dour; W. dwr.

LigKt. — Scr. aluka; Or. lukO; Lat. lux, luuia; Slav.
luo'; Lett, lukuteca (to look around); Ooth. liuhatb;
derm, licht; W. Ihwej; Krac, loos.

Door, — Scr. dwara; P. dar; Slav, dwer; Lith. durrya;
Lett, durrii; doth, daura; dorin. thur; dr. thura; Kritu,
dorai ; W. dor.

Ox, Cow. — 8cr. go, gaua; Z. gaoa; P. gau; Sabine,
pviui; Lett, gowi; Krae, geo; Scantl. ku; O. 11. dunn.
chuo ; derm, kuh; Or. boua ; Lat. boa; Slav, bulk;
\i, buw.

Worm. — Scr. kirniia; P. kirm; Lith. kimielo; Lett,
zehrrai ; Lat. vermia ; doth, vauniia ; Scand. ornia ;
dorra. wurm.

Thin.— Scr. tanus; P.tonuk; dr. tanua; Lat. tenuia;
Slav, tanok, tanan ; Scand, thunur,tunn; derm, dunn;
VV. donau.

New. — Scr. navah ; P. nu ; Lat. novua; Or. neoa ;
Slav, novii; Lith. naujaa; (). Pr. nauna; doth, nivia;
denn. neu; Erae, nuadh; W. newydh.

Red, — Scr. rud'ira; Lat. ruber; Slav, rditi (to redden) ;
Lith. ruddaa ; Scand. rod ; Engl, ruddy, rud ; Erae,
ruadh; dr. eruthroa; 0. II. denn. rot; dorm. roth.

First (fominiiio singular). — Scr. prat'anin ; Z. fra-
thcma and paoirya ; dr. prota ; I.At. prima ; doth,
fruraa; Lith. pinna; O. Pr. pirmoi; Slav, pervaja.

To know. — Scr. g'na, ganami, gnotaa (known) ; Or.
ginosko; Lat. gnosKo. gnarua; Slav, znati; Lith. zinoti;
Lett, ainnat; doth, kanu, J know; U. H. derm, chnata,
/ knew; derm, kennen ; Engl, to ken, to htow ; W. gwn,
/ know.

Stand. — Scr. st'a ; Z. hiatami ; Or. hiatemi ; Pcrs.
astaden; Slav, stati; Lith. stoweti; O. Pr. staiiinti
(standing), po-stat; doth, standan; U. II. derm, stan-
tan; Erae, stadaui; W. cistedh. to rit.

Bear. — Scr. b'ar; Z. baraiti; P. berden; Ooth. bairan;
Haxon, boaran; O. H. d. peran; Krse, bhcirim, bcaradh;
(irj)hero; Lat. foro.

Eat. — Scr. ad; dr. edo; Imt. cdo; Slav, jodmi; Lith.
edmi; Lett, ehmu, ehde; O. Pr. idi8,yoorf; doth, itan;
O. II. O. izan; derm, esaen; Erae, itheadh; W. ysu.

Be. — Scr. b'u; Z. bu; P. bu-dcn, to be; Slav, bu-ti;
Lith. buti; Lett, but; O. Pr. bout; Low (Jerm. boon, to
f>c ; O. 11. denn. pim, / am ; Erse, bhith, to be, bu mi,
y wai ; \V. bod, to be ; Greek, fuo; Lat. fui.

Mind. — Scr. manyati, he thinks, manaa, mind; Z.
man, to think, mans, mind; Or. mnaomi, / raiutnber,
think; Lat. moneo, memini, mens, mind; Slav, mjeniti,

to think, po-iqjanu, / rmntmber ; Lith, menfM; IM*
pe«-miune, / mdmonieK ; O. Pr. po-miuisna, (/iimghi ,
doth, munaii ; O. H. d«rm. niauou; Germ, umumu;
Engl, to meant VV. menw, miml,

Ihe Muount of ooinoidencu which may b«thutob*«rve<i
in suoh primary and universal words through so many
languages, is rendered still more striking and lostruc-
tire by the diacovory, that the differences in the same
word obs«rve<l between one language and another are
aubjecto<l to regular laws. It was discovered by diimm,
that a regular interchange of consonants takes place
between tlio worda of the Genuau languages, so thai
when we know how a word is siielt or pronounced in
ono, we can almost predict witn certainty how it will
b« pronounced in another; so that, in fact, the ditfurent
languages are in a great measure compose<l of the same
words articulated in ditlerent wnya. We have seen
that the Sanscrit, dreek, and Ijttin, give as the word
fot father, pilar, pater, where the consonant* aro p, t, rt
while in the Low (ierman dialect* or the Gothic, it ia
fadrein ; the mute labial p being tunied into the aitiii-
rate labial /, beside* the change from the mute to the
vocal dental, or from ( tod. The Old High liorinau
ha* a *till farther change of the lamo lauial to the
vocal aapirate v ; in it the word is vatar. So wo ob-
aerve tree, threit, dri ; or dental mute, aspirate, vocul,
in the Latin (ik* well as the dreek and Sanscrit), Low
dorman. Old High Oennan respectively. Again, when
the Latin has a vocal for the characteristic letter of a
word, as d, tlio Low German Hnoluding English) baa a
mute, thua decern, ten. The cnange from mute to aapi-
rate ia exemplified in the gutturals, in cor, heart. In
tho same way other changes might be exemplified of
an e<iually uniform character. The diacovery of auch
principlea atam]>a a certainty upon the etymological
tracing of worda which could not othorwiae ha attained.
It ia not enough that one wonl in ono language ahould
Bound very like a word in another language; they must
(litter according to the laws eatabliahed between the two
languagea, and in no other way.

There are thus for each member of the Indo-Euro-
pean family certain general principlea of tho formation
of wonla, which, though not without accidental devia-
tiona and exceptions, govern it* mode of pronouncing
auch of the worda as are common to the whole family.
Tho determination of theae lawa, therefore, enablea tlie
vocabulary of one to be immediately applied to inter-
pret the vocabulary of another. VV e ahall cite a few
more example* of pervading peculiaritiea attaching to
individual tonguca, in touching briefly upon tho lead-
ing roembera of the family in auccession.

The Sansorit, which can be moat immediately com-
pared with the Greek, wanta entirely tho two vowels e
and o, having only the three a, i, u, and certain vibra-
tory vowel modific;vtiona of r. These throe are the most
atrongly marked of the vowel utterances, and arc there-
fore the primary vowels; the e and o being evolved
from them at a subsequent stage. Tho Sunacrit has
uaually a where tho Greek or Latin has a, e, or o,
which gives an imnienae predominance to the ah aound
in the Indian languagea. The Sanscrit has also some-
times a guttural, which is transmuted in the clasaic
languagea, but remaina in the Gothic, as laghu, lux,
leicnt, liijht, A somewhat unexpected change is occa-
sionally made from d to / — as dtpa, lamp.

The Zend language is remarkable for wanting the I,
OS the Chineae wants the r, and hence all its forms
muat be subject to this omission; but in modem Per-
sian the letter ia found. The a in Sanscrit is apt to be
replaced by h in Zend — as »&, h&, they ; sapta, hapla,
seven; sva, hva, his. This corresponds to an ii.ter-
chango that is frequent between Latin and Greek — as
sue, hus, a auto ; and also between (iaolic and Welsh;
and it is worth remembering that Latin, Sanscrit, and
Gaelic arc of the low division, while Zend, Greek, and
Welsh are of the high division of languages. The Zend
also difi^er* from the Sunacrit in possessing the vowels
e and o.

The couiparisou of the Gtrman languages among

LANOUAGV.

(h<nnielvM wu tie fini o«OMion of brinxiiiff oui thoie
uuiforniitlM of liiterohftDK*. Miil hM t-unipletuly ttteb-
)i«lic(l the •xiitpiuo lit t.to iliitinct Oemian itoclu,
buTlng UMurlv ili« »'■>•> trucabulary Uilt'ereiilly artiou-
UUd; one ot whii h, iiu'la'Ung the low dialaoti, ii tbo
older .iiul mtflfi ' ' '»<> AUliouj(h the two itocki
branch out i/iti ouih ImiaI* 4i\isioiii,tho churiMiteriitia
diJftrenoe of pronm . wtt>»» foUowi them throughout.
Thue where wo »ay -ifof, th* High (lerinMi myn tae,
lag I where we eay tl4tj>, tliev imj ilaftnt, ichUi/a».
The 8c»ndinB?iaii tonguei rMik with Dutch, Fleniiih,
Kriii*.-!, Anglo Suxon, and our own languftge, among
the low (iernmn i^Ium. Kach of thcM tonguei liaa its
dUtiuotire anl MHignable peculiaritiei of vocables and
grammar, ihowii an independent growth iiibeefiucnt
to their leparati ji from the parent item, and doubt-
leM detcnniiicd by the character! and furtunet of the
■oparate [>eo]iloi. The only uoint touching on their
connections or difTerencoii to wnich we can here allude,
ii that relating to Anglo-Saxon and English. It ii
cuntoraary to aiiert that Anglo-Saxon wiii the only
< iothic language in this country prior to the Nonnan
invasion ; and that shortly after this event, it became
transmuted into English, a language differing from it
in some of tho most durable peculiarities of grammati-
ual structure. Uut vhen we consider tho difficulty
there would be in inducing a whole people accustomed
to say, to bear, to die, &c. as the infinitive forms of the
verb, to change to the form btaram, where the pre-
position is at the end, there being no assignable motive
for making such a change, we mav safely assert that
no sufficient proof has hitherto been adduced that
tho opposite change took place within a century,
and that a largo class of other changes of a kind
equally difficult and uncalled for was niiulo within tho
same period. Hitherto, tho growth of Knglish out of
Anglo-Saxon has been tacitly assumed as a thing
hardly requiring any evidence farther than tho affinity
of the languages, and the known tlisappearance of ono
of them ; the steps ade<iuate to effect so stupendous a
revolution in the habits of articulation over a large
empire have never been suggested by any one.

In the Knglish language there are conii)uted to be
about 53,000 words, of which 3l)'20 are primitives; of
these prinutives, 2513 are common to Knglish and the
Oorman tongues; and 1250 common to Knglish and
the classic tongues. This calculation will servo to
show how far the knowledge of Knglish avails us in
acquiring Greek and Latin, as well as the modern
European languages.

The Celtic tongues have only of late been shown to
belong to the class of Indo-Kuropean languages; but
the proof of their being so related is now considered
complete. They suffer the same division into high and
low as the rest of the family. The high are the Welsh,
Cornish, and Armorican ; the low are the Krse division,
or the Gaelic, Irish, and Manx. The high languages
are also the youngest, and the peoples they belong to
are believed to have been the latest to occupy tlieir
seats in tho west of Europe. The periods of the westerly
migrations of the Celtic nations have not been clearly
made out; one set of movements are traced to the
sixth century before Christ, and others preceded this
epoch by an unknown interval.

One striking characteristic of the Celtic tongues is
their adhering to the same letters as tho Sanscrit,
Greek, and Latin, in the words that are regularly
changed in the Gothic tongues. Thus in the word
tooth, which is spelt with a d (danta) in Sanscrit,
changed into to in all the German languages, the
Celtic adheres to tho Sanscrit; iu Welsh it is dant, in
Irish dead. So pada, Sanscrit; ped, Welsh. This pecu-
liarity has enabled Dr Meyer to specify certain English
words that have been obtained direct from the Celts,
and not from the common ancestry of the Indo-Euro-
pean tongues. Thus take, tread, taper, time, are ex-
amples of words so derived; also bake, bath, basket, bride.

Another Celtic peculiarity is the regular alteration
of certain consonants when preceded \>y rowels, evi-

deiitiv to suit a <<ertaln habit of artloulatinn. Thui
the Walsh word trev (a house), whtiii preceded by the
proflx a, becomes it-thr«n>, the mute being ruiicler«ii into
an aapirate. t he Welsh mnrw (dead) linoume* di-varu
(immortal), the laMal w being changt'd Into ire vocal
aipirato. Thia is the reverie of a Cockney pevi. .iarity,
which niakaa diviiie, di-mdf.

I(r Meyer roncluiUi, from a ««reful etaniinati'rtt -jf
the Celtic tongues, that while they are »f %\iv Sanscrit
class, they have decidwl artiriitiea with the ligyptiun,
tho Semitic, and tho Kinnish languages, and may be
regarded as more primitive ur ancient than any uf the
otner I niln. European tongues; that is to say, they
broke off from the parent stem, and took a ttxed set
before any of tho others bad reached their charac-
teristic development.

Tartar, Tttnr, ox Turnnlan LanRuagci.

Those languffes belong to the va«t group of nations
that have ri:cnivod the name of Tartars, and are com-
monly understood to lend a pastoral and mi;,'ratory life.
They h.ivo never attained a hij^h degree of civilisation,
and what they have seems only in part their own.
Their colebritv in the world has been owing to the con-
quest!) that tlioy have achieved over civilised imtions
by tho bruto force of nunibcrs. They cover tlie im-
nienso plains of Central mid No-thcrn Asia, and extend
into the I'olar regions of Europe. The name Turanian
h:is reference to tho high table-land of Asia, called
Turan, as tho lower table-land is called /ran.

M. Abel Ucmusut, in his work on the Tartar Ian-
giiagpi, divides them into four great tribes radically
distinct from each other. Ileginnlng at the oast, tihore
t)iov are in contact with the Chinese, the first division
is the Tongous. Their territory is divi>l< <l into two halfs
by the line that fixes tho frontiers of tho Uussian and
Chinese empires. From them have proceeded, among
others, the Mautchou Tartars, at present the ruling
dynasty of China. The second division is tho Motiffoli,
celebrated for their con(uiests under Ohenghiz Khun,
The greater number of their < libes arc now under the
power of China, The third liivision, more numerous
than cither of the other two, is the Turks, whose origin
is more westerly : they also aro known from their vast
conquering career, and from their still possessing one
of tho largest empires of Europe. Tho fourth division
is tho Tibetans, or Tartars of Thibet, the more exclu-
sive occupants of the table-land of Central Asia, and
having, from their position, close connections with
China, Persia, India, and Tartary. The Mongols have
for a long time governed their country, but at present
tho Chinese exercise over it a preponderating influence.

Respecting the Tartar languages, M. Kemusat sums
up the conclusions of his researches as follows : — The
words that refer to objects of the first necessity and
prominence are radically different in all the four, and
are not analogous to any other known language. The
resemblances that may bo traced throughout them all
refer to the objects of the arts, to titles, dignities, and
religious or philosophical ideas : they prove that there
have been some common infiueuces of commerce, war,
politics, and religion ; and they are of the same cha-
racter as the words introduced from foreign languages.
The grammatical forms aro few in number and very
little complicated ; the relations of names are marked
by affixes or annexed words, without elision or fusion;
the verbs are in general without conjugations; the tenses
most used aro impersonal ; the construction is rigorously
inverse; their literature, like all their philosophical and
religious ideas, is entirely borrowed.

Another class of nations, named the Vgrian tribes,
are considered as having affinity with these four Tartar
races. Their original country reached through northern
Europe, from the Danish islands to the North Cape of
Asia; but they have been driven from the greater part
of this region, and tho only portion of them now extant
in the heart of Europe is the Magyars of Hungary.
The Finns, Laplanders, &c. are of this race. The rela-
tions above alluded to, of some of the Celtic peculiari-

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

ties to the Finnish languages, may be connected with
the fact, tha* the Celts, in marching through the Euro-
pean continent, most probably encountered Finnish or
aome of the Ugrian tribes. The Celts being the first
of the Indo-European pwplea to occupy Europe, they
must have borne the chief brunt of the battle nth its
previous occupants of the Turanian family. It has
even been supposed that the Celts must themselves be
considered as a mixture of an Indo-European tribe with
one of Finnish or Lappish descent.

The Old Iberian language of Spain, of which the
Basque is supposed to be a relic, is likewise classed
among the pnmitive languages of Europe, prior to the
adveut of any Indo-Euro|)ean people.

The aborigines of India, who were subdued from the
west by an Iranian tribe, speaking the Sanscrit lan-
guage, are olso reckoned of Turanian or Tartar descent.
In the south of India they are still traced as a separate
race, having a speech allied to the Tartar.

Attempts have been mode to include other scattered
tribes in the same great family; but the evidence for
such alliances is at best but precarious. For example,
the languages of Australia have been supposed to have
some affinity with the Tamulian or aboriginal Tartar
of the south of India.

Semitic Languages.

The prominent members of this tribe are the Hebrew
and the Ambic, to which are added the Aramaic, or the
languages of the ancient nations of Aram, Syria, Meso-
potamia, and Babylonia, which were Syriac in the west
and Chaldaic in the east ; and also the Ethiopic, or the
ancient and now sacred language of Abyssir'a.

The Hebrew language is remarkable on a great many
accounts. Its alpliabet has been adopted by European
nations, whose own languages arc of a totally diiTerent
tribe. It is of a structure considerably diil'erent from
the Indo-European tongues, and supposed to be in
some respects more primitive than theirs. The roots
uro for the most part verbs; that is to say, action is
the primitive idea of each — which circumstance, how-
ever, we have seen to 1>e the most natural, or the most
accordant with the operation of the human faculties in
the invention of articulate sounds. What is more re-
markable about these roots, is their being dissyllabic or
trisyllabic; that is, they arc made up of tliree conso-
nants, or cousouautial syllables. The intiections are
formed by internal changes in the words, more than by
affixes and prefixes, as in the Iranian tongues, being
similar tio the strong conjugation in English — as conie,
cani«, brake, broke. There is no verb of general affir-
mation like our verb is, arc, ivere.

The Hebrew language has been found capable of the
highest order of poetry, and the Arabic hus served the
purposes of scientific expression, as well as literary uses
in general. The ancient Phuciiiciaus and Carthaginians
spole a Hebrew dialect.

African Languages.
These languages are still a subject of active research,
and are far from being completely known. The fullest
account of them appears to be what was given by l)r
Latham to the British Association in 1U47. Dr Latham
divides them as follows: —

I. The Coptic class, containing the extinct dialects
of Egypt.

II. The Berber class, embracing the Mon- Arabic lan-
guages of Northern Africa.

III. The Hottentot class.

IV. The CafTre class, extcudiiig from the limits of
tho Hottentot count./ us far northward us Loango and
the river Juba, west and east.

V. An uunained class fallin; , eleven subordinate
groups: —

I. Tho Nubian Rroup.
1. The Oallit ([">>>?•
■1. Tho RorgliM Kroiip.
4. The licfiliiirriii gruup.
fi. Tho lUiTu Rroiip.
6. Thu Hiutlara group.

7. Tlio Hawma group.

U. Tho MandinKO gruup.

t). Thu Wiilnff grioip.
ID. Tho Kiilah group.
11. Tho Ibo-ABhantfO group.

In ac^lition to these are six other languages ctill
unplaced. Dr Latham gives copious lists from the voca-
bularies of these various tongues, and discovers a great
many cases of coincidence, such as to show the proba-
bility of the common descent of many of the remotely-
situated tribes.

The ancient Egyptian language is perhaps the most
celebrated and interesting of tho African tongues. The
study of its structure has led some to the belief that
it has a midway position between the Indo-European
and Semitic languages, and forms a connecting link
between the two, as if it were a branch from a very old
and primitive language from which both these great
tribes alike sprung. The affinities and resemblances
of the Celtic, the most ancient of the Iranian tongues,
to the Egyptian, have been brought forward to sup-
port this view. It is one of the points respecting
ancient Egypt especially urged in the recent erudite
work of the Chevalier Buns^.

The Malay Languages
form a class by themselves. They are spoken in
Malacca, and the islands of the East Indian Archipe-
lago (Java, Sumatra, &c.), and arc also found, in close
proximity with Africa, on the island of Madagascar.
The dialects of the Polynesian Islands in the Pacific
Ocean have been lately identified with the same class;
thereby furnishing an iioportant clue to the peopling
of these remote localities. A difficulty still remains
with the Papua language, spoken by the black and
woolly-haired tribes in Australia and New Guinea,
who are also the aboriguies of the island of Borneo,
and who occupy a few small Polynesian islands.

Chinese Language.

Like other portions of their civilisation, the language
of the Chinese is peculiar, and contrasts with all other
nations. It has been called monosyllabic, not only to
distinguish it from the trisyllabic roots of the Semitic
tongues, but to shov\ that it has not adopted the expe-
dient of adding syllables to one another in the way of
inilections, as in the Iranian languages. For denoting
the connections, and relations, and circumstances ex-
pressed by inflections, it uses separate words; and in
showing the exact force of these words, dependence is
placed on their arrangement in the first place; and in
the second place, on the tone and accent of their pro-
nunciation. The words are all names of objects, and
they require to stand for nouns, verbs, adjectives, or
prcjjositions, as the case may be. There are said to
be no more than a few hundreds of these syllable
words to compose the language; these being multiplied
three or four times by variety of accent.

The writiiig of the Chinese is wholly independent of
their speech, and is the only language universally
understood over the whole empire. It is exactly in
the predicament of our numerals 1, 2, .1, &c., which
are of no particular language, and have a diflieieut
sound in each; being universal to thu rye, but not to
the ear. The process of comparing picture - marks
with sounds, which gave rise to the alphabet, has never
been performed by the Chinese.

American Languages.
These languages received the name ' Polysynthetic,'
from their excessive tendency to agglutinate syllables
into long words; and this being sup|)08tid to be a kind
of inflection like the (ireek or Sanncrit forms, it was
thought to indicate a high order of speech. But in
fact nothing could be farther from regular inflections
than such a process ; it being nothing but an indis-
criminate huutiling of syllables; sometimes two or three
put on for the same meaning, evidently caused by a
habit or instinct of flowing articulation. No satisfac-
tory attempt has yet been made to classify these lan-
guages, or to truce an affinity between them and the
other great families above-mentioned. Alleged af-
finities are denied by those most intimately acquainted
with the languages themselves,

CONSTITUTION OF SOCIETY-GOVERNMENT.

perhaps the moBt
:aii toiiguea. The
o the belief that
le Indo-Europeait
connecting link
li from a very old
both these great
.nj resemblauces
Iranian tongues,
forward to sup-
loints respecting
le recent erudite

' are spoken in
Indian Archipc-
30 found, in close
. of Madagascar.
Is in the Pacific
1 the same class;
to the peopling
Ity still remains
f the black and
id New Guinea,
aland of Borneo,
n islands.

ion, the language
its with all other
abic, not only to
ts of the Semitic
loptcd the expe-
ler in the way of
8. For denoting
rcumstances ex-
e words; and in
8, dependence is
st place; and in
ut of their pro-
of objects, and
8, adjectives, or
icre are said to
these syllable
)eiiig multiplied

In the two preceding numbers we have drawn attention
to the physical and mental constitution of man, and to
the great instrument of thought by which he is enabled
to give scope to the development of that constitution
either in an individual or in a collective capacity. We
devote the present sheet to a review of man's social
nature — to that condition in which he lays aside the
sole consideration of self, and enters upon a scheme of
union and co-relation, whereby he finds his own happi-
ness in the happiness of those with whom he is asso-
ciated ; and advances in civilisation and refinement not
as an individual only, but as a nation or race, and that
in proportion to the perfection of the social system he
has been able to eliminate.

CONSTITUTION OP SOCIETY.

Man is a gregarious animal ; that is, he loves to
herd together with his fellows — to live in society.
There are, indeed, instances of men fleeing society, and
spending existence in solitude, but these unhappily-
disposed individuals form only an exception to a ge-
neral rule. * Man,' observes Dr Thomas Brown in his
Philosophy of the Human Mind, ' is bom in society,
and dependent on it, in some of its most delightful
forms, for the preservation of his infant being, which,
without the protection of those who love him the more
for the very helplessness that is consigned to their
protection, would seem thrown into the world only to
suffer in it for a few hours, and ceasing to suffer, to
cease also to exist. If man be dependent on society
for the preservation of his early existence, he is not less
dependent on it for the comfort and happiness of his
existence in other years. It is to be the source of all
the love which he feels, of all the love which he excites,
and therefore of almost all the desires and enjoyments
which he is capable of feeling. There is not one of his
actions which may not, directly or indirectly, have
some relation to those among whom he lives; and I
may say even that there is scarcely a monifnt of his
existence in which the social affection, in one oi' other
of its forms, has not an influence on some feeling or
resolution, some delightful remembi-ance of the past,
some project of future benevolence or resentment.

Uf a society to which man thus owes all his strength,
as well as all his happiness, it is not won4erfuI that
nature should have formed him desirous; and it is in
harmony with that graciouE provision wh{ch we see
realised so efl'ectually in our other emotions, that she
has formed him to love the society which profits him,
without thinking of the profit^ which it sriBTords; that
is to say, without regard to this benefit as t)ie ]>rimary
source of a love that would not have ariseii but from
the prosjiect of the selfish gain. We exist in society,
and have funned in it innumerable affections, long
before we have learned to sutp and calculate the con-
sequences of every separate look and word <if kindness,
or have measured the general advantage which this
spontaneous and ready kindueM yields, with the state
of misery in which we should har* existed if there had
been no society to receive aiid make us happy. These
affections, so quick to uwnke in the vury moment
almost of our waking being, are erer spreading in the

f>rogre8s of life; because tnere ii no uionieut to the
leart in which the principle of social union is oold or
powerless. The infant dues not cling to his nurse
more readily than the boy hastens to meet hit play-
mates, and man to oommunioate his thoughts to man.

What is every language but a proof of the agencr
of that feeling which makes it delightful to us to speak
and to listen, because it is delightful to us to make
No. S3.

our thoughts pass into other hearts, or to share the
thoughts of those other hearts ! We use speech, indeed,
in its vulgar offices to express to each other the want
of bodily accommodations, which can be mutually sup-
plied by those who know each other's necessities; and
as a medium by which these wants can instantly be
made known, it is, in these vulgar offices, unquestion-
ably an instrument of the highest convenience, even
though it were incapable of being adapted to any other
purpose. But how small a part of that language, which
is so eloquent ap interpreter of every thought and feel-
ing, :n employed for this humble end 1 If we were to
reflect on all those gracious communications, and ques-
tions, and answers, and replies that, in a little society
of friends, form for a whole day a happiness which
nothing else could give, the few words significant of
mere bodily wants would perhaps scarcely be remem-
bered in our retrospect of an eloquence that was expres-
sive of wants of a very different kind; of that social
impulse which, when there are others around who can
partake its feelings, makes it almost impossible for the
heart, whether sad or sprightly, to be sad or sprightly '
alone ; and to which no event is little, the communi-
cation of which can be the expression of regard. In
that infinite variety of languages which are spoken by
the nations dispersed on the surface of the earth, there
is one voice which animates the whole — a voice which,
in every country and every time, and in all the changes
of barbarism and civilisation, still utters a truth, the
first to which the heart has assented, and the last which
it can ever lose; the voice of our social nature bringing
its irresistible testimony to the force of that universal
sympathy which has found man everywhere, and pre-
serves him everywhere, in the community of mankind.'

Family Relntionship— Marriage.

Human society is composed of families. A family
consists of husband, wife, children. This is not an
accidental or arbitrary arrangement. The family com-
pact originates in the necessities of our nature; has
existed since the creation; and, by the good Tovidenco
of Uod, will continue till the end of time. Accordingly,
all attempts to encroach on the obligations, as well as
the privileges of the family relationship, have proved
less or more nugatory, and must ever inevitably do so.

What is the fundamental object of the family com-
pact is abundantly evident : a due provision for tho
affections, and for the nurture and education of chil-
dren. This latter is insured by the matrimonial en-
gagement — a solemn covenant between a man and a
woman to attach themselves to each other through all
the contingencies of life till the death of either dissolve
the union. In every nation removed from barbarism,
marriage is a recognised ordinance, guarded by law and
custom. Ill sunie eastern countries, jpolyyamy, or the
marriivgc of a man with many wives, has long been
tolerated; but that loose instances of this kind are a
violation of a just and reasonable principle, is testified
by the fact, that polygamy is not favourable to the
rearing of children, and that it ia inconsistent with the
due equality of the sexes. In all countries in which
polygamy is tolerated, woman occupies a degraded po-
sition, and society is rude and unexpansive in its cha-
racter. Nature has designed woman to be the equal of
man as a moral and intellectual being; and confined
to the exercise of her own proper duties as a wife and
mother, she it ^aced in a favourable position as relates
to her own hapless and the happiness of her husband.
And all this ean only be realised by moHogamy — the
marriage of a man with but one wife. We have deemed
it necessary to state thus unequivocally at the outset

.33

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

what appears to bo the primary principleB of human
relationship; for there are not wanting parties who
would endeavour to rear systems of society in which
the family compact is to have no place, and parental
care is to be absolved from its duties— a dream of the
imagination, which the common sense of mankind will
ever reject as visionary, ond consider, for all good and
enduring purposes, to be utterly impracticable.

Society, as has been shown, is necessarily composed
of distinct families. The manner, however, in which
these families sho'ild associate with respect to each
other, is a question which has been often agitated, and
here deserves some degree of notice. The true expla-
nation, we think, lies in an appeal to nature.

It would appear that from the beginning of the
world every nation has consisted of a certain number
of families, and that each family, in its general cir-
cumstances, has been independent of others. Families,
as in the patriarchal times, may have been less or more
dependent on or connected with the head of a tribe ;
but we nowhere read of families yielding up their in-
dividual identity, and living in private community
with each other. Each family has always had its own
house, its own joys, sorrows, hopes, and fears. Each
father of a family, a sovereign within his own domain,
has been left to govern his little realm, and to under-
take the obligation of finding his wife, children, and
domestics in the means of daily subsistence.

A practice so universal cannot be supposed to be a
violation of cither nature or convenience. It has
Bp'^ung up from the wants and feelings of mankind,
and may be said to be a spontaneous result of unalter-
&ble circumstances. Tracing it to its true source in
the mental constitution, we find that the independence
of individual action affords the widest scope for per-
sonal enterprise, perseverance, and other useful emotions.
No doubt it iv. seltish in principle, but selfishness may
be productive of good as well as bad ends, and is ac-
knowledgedly allied to some of the nobler aspirations.
It is at least certain that indixidual independence, so
far as family government, location, and industrial pur-
suits are concerned, is the basis of all which commands
respect in civilised society.

In reply to this, it is urged that, by leaving society
to spontaneous arrangement, there comes a time when
each nation is consumed by its internal disorders. The
clever, the industrious, and the persevering, become
wealthy; vast numbers, either from lack of capicity or
opportunity, sink into a state of extreme indigence ;
and a number become criminals, and prey on the others.
There is truth in this severe statement of facts; for in
every nation there are rich and poor, good and bad.
Nevertheless, such a mingled tissue is only an inevitable
consequence not of the mere structure of society, but
of human nature, on which society is founded. If there
be anything wrong, we must seek a remedy in the im-
provement of man's moral and intellectual constitution,
not in subverting the whole organisation of society,
and attempting to reunite it on fantastic, or, at all
events, new and untried principles. Nor should any
alarm be entertained respecting the lamentable evils
which aecin to be the doom of society as it at present
exists. These evils, and they are great, will never
utterly disappear, because human perfection is unat-
tainable, but they will in time be much modified. In
every region society goes through a period i.f infancy,
during which many cruelties are perpetraicd and pri-
vations endured; after this, as men become enlight-
ened, the worst kind of evils gradually disappear, und
ethers of lesser severity remain. At present, society in
(Ireat Britain and most c'vilised nations is in a tran-
sition state from barbarism to enlightenment. Within
even the recollection of men now living, the steps in
advance have been considerable, and every year adds
to the number of both physical and social amoliora-
tiong. Can there be any reasonable doubt that society
will continue in all respects to improve, and that much
that IS now matter for regret and reproach will be
amended or r«moTed f
34

Utopian Communities.

Ingenious men have at different times conceived to
themselves the idea of a state of society, or republic, in
which vice, sorrow, indolence, poverty, and other evils
shall either be unknown, or at least reduced to a scarcely
perceptible amount. None of these theories has gained
so much celebrity as that announced by Sir Thomas
More, under the name of Utopia (from a Greek word
signifying no place). The author was chancellor of
England in the reign of Henry VIII., and' was a man of
the highest and most honourable character. Ilia work
on Utopia was written in Latin, and the elegance with
which he propounded his apparently benevolent but
really satirical scheme, has made the name of his ima-
ginary republic to be adopted in our language as a
current expression to denote any plan of social economy
which is founded on too favourable views of human
nature to be practicable.

The work was written not long after the discovery of
America, near which continent, south of the line, the
island of Utopia is supposed to lie. The story of dis-
covering this island is represented as being told by a
venerable traveller whom the author met at Antwerp,
and may be condensed as follows : —

* Among other countries through which the traveller
with his companions passed, there was one which ap-
peared particularly worthy of attention; this was an
island situated not far from the mainland, and called
the Utopia, from an old chief of the name of Utopus.
The island was about five hundred miles long, and
about two hundred in the broadest part; but it lay in
the form of a crescent, bent together at the ends, which
were narrow, and not more than eleven miles apart; so
that there was a large bay of the sea, as it were, in the
very centre of the country. The entiauoe to this vast
natural harbour was, however, obstructed by rocks, and
hardly safe to any except natives, who were acquainted
with the landmarks in view. The other side of the
island had a number of harbours; but the coast being
generally rocky, the roads leading from them into the
country were steep and difficult. There are in the
country twenty-four largo towns, all magnificently built,
and spacious ; the situation of each is chosen so like
that of the rest, that in the very arrangement of their
streets, and their general appearance, when you see
one, you have a complete idea of all the others. The
same language is spoken over the whole island ; and
the laws, institutions, and manners of the towns are
similar throughout. There are none of them above a
day's walk from each other, and several only about
twenty-four miles. The chief town is Amaurotum,
which has been chosen on account of its central situa-
tion, as being convenient for the general meeting of
deputies, of whom three are chosen from each town, ge- ,
nerally men of some age and of experience in business,
for deliberating on the public afl^airs. The cities arc
so situated, that each has a large cou'itry district lying
around it, which is well stocked with farm-houses, and
all the materials of a thriving husbandry. The land
is cultivated by the townspeople themselves, who take
it in turn, one set going to labour in the country,
while another remain at their occupations in the town.
The cultivators are arranged, while in the country,
into families of forty free persons and two slaves ;
with each family there is an elder and a matron of
respectable characvcrs ; and over every three hundred
families there is an officer called a I'hylarch. Of the
forty persons who compose a family, twenty return
each season to the town, and are replaced by twenty
others sent from thence; so that each person remains
on the farm two years together, where by this means
there is always a moiety acquainted with country la-
bour, and able to instruct the others; numbers, how-
ever, rei|ue8t to remain a longer time, from the pleasure
they take in farming and field-work. Their business
ii to attend to the crops, to rear domestic animals,
and to prepare wood, and take it to the towns. They
rear immense flocks of chickens, which, however, they

CONSTITUTION OP SOCIETY.

hatch not in the usual way, but by the heat of an oven
— tt process in which they are very expert and success-
ful. They raise com for bread on I not for brewing
or distilling ; and for drink they hii o the vine, as we
hare, as well as the liquor of apples and pears. In
laying out their land, they calculate how much com,
meat, and other produce will be wanted for a city and
its dependent territory, and take care always to have
a much larger quantity than is necessary, that after
each district has supplied its own demand, they may
be able to afford a portion in any quarter where there
may be a deficiency. Whatever articles of the manu-
facture of the towns are wanted, the cultivators receive
them on demand, without offering anything in ex-
change ; and when the crops are ready for harvesting,
the country phylarchs or overseers give notice to the
authorities in the towns, upon which the whole popula-
tion is set to work, and the crops are secured almost
in a single day.

A description of the city Araaurotum will give a
complete idea of all the others, which are as exactly
like each other as may be. This place, then, is situ-
ated on a gentle slope, with a river flowing along the
bottom of the declivity, which is navigable, with the
waters of the tide, as far as the town; and there is a
stone quay all along the bank, at which vessels lie
to for delivering their cargoes. The town is of a
square form ; the streets long and straight, with a row
of well-built houses on each side, before which there
is always a paved footpath; in the rear, every house
has a garden, with a door opening into it. The doors,
both in front and behind, are made in such a way
as to open readily with the hand, and to shut again
of their own accord; but they are never locked, so
that no one has any place of secrecy. They pay the
greatest attention to their gardens, in which they
raise abundance of the finest fmits, flowers, and herbs.
Nothing can be more splendid or useful than the trea-
sures of vegetable beauty exhibited there ; and the
founder of the town seems to have paid particular at-
tention to the laying out of the gardens and garden-
grounds, which the successive generations of inhabi-
tants have continually improved.

With regard to their magistrates, every thirty fa-
milies in the towns elect yearly a representative, who
is called a Syphogrant ; and to every ten syphogrants,
with their constituencies, there is an oflicer or repre-
sentative, who is styled a Tranibor. Lastly, the whole
of the syphogrants, who arc two hundred in number,
after taking an oath to select the most useful candi-
date, choose by secret votes a chief magistrate, who is
always one of four, of whom a list is given them by
the people, each quarter of the city naming one. This
chief retains his office during life, except there be rea-
son to suspect his aiming at arbitrary power; but the
tranibors, and all the other officers, are elected yearly.
The chief meets with a council of the tranibors every
third day, or oftencr, if there be occasion, to deliberate
on public business, or the suits of individuals ; and
there are olways two of the syphop -ants (or inferior
representatives) present. It is a capital crime for the
magistrates or chief to discuss public business any-
where except in the senate or great assemblies; a re-
gulation which is enforced, that the authorities may
not conspire in secret against the public liberties. In
matters of great moment, a communication is made to
the syphogrants, who consult their families (consti-
tuencies), and give in their opinion to the senate.

All the people are acquainted with farming, which
they learn from their infancy, partly by instructions
in the schoole, and partly from practice, when their
families are in the country. Dosides this, every ono
is taught seme other business — such as weaving, car-
pentry, or smith-work ; and these constitute the most
of their crafts. There being little variety of dress
used in the island, except that those of the men and
women are different (and both of them are very be-
coming), each family makes their own clothing. But
of the other businesses, every person, male or female,

leams some ono, the women generally performing
the lighter portions of the work; and every person
for the most part following the profession of his an-
cestors. Their labour is not heavy ; for if the day he
divided into twenty -four hours, there are only six
of these devoted to work — three in the forenoon, and
three in the afternoon. All the remainder of the time
they have at their own disposal, not for idleness or
dissipation, indeed, but for any rational amusement,
such as reading, or hearing lectures on various sub-
jects, delivered by persons who make literature their
business. It may be supposed that, if they labour
only six hours a day, they must be very poor, and that
the country will be ill supplied with everything: but
this is far from being the case; and the few hours
which they devote to work are quite sufficient to pro-
cure all that is wanted for the necessaries and com-
forts of life; of which you may be convinced, if you
have remarked in other countries what immense mul-
titudes of people go entirely idle, and produce nothing;
or what a vast number, again, are employed 'n arts
which are mere luxury and superfluity, or which in-
jure the community instead of benefiting it: and yet
these idle people and triflers consume much more of
the labour of others than those who exert themselves
to produce something really useful. In Utopia, on
the other hand, there are but a very few persons in
each city who are not employed in useful labour; even
the syphogrants themselves, though exempt fmin work-
ing b) I he law, give what time they can spare irom the
public business to some profitable occupation, that they
may aflTord an example to others. Students, who have
been selected by the syphogrants and priests, and -p-
proved by the people, in order to follow the pursuits of
literature, are exempted from manual labour; but if
any of them disappoint the hopes entertained of him,
he is returned to his work; and, on the contrary, any
tradesman who in his leisure hours displays a talent
for learning, is admitted into the class of students, and
enjoys all their privileges. It is only from this class
that ambassadors, priests, the senate (or tranibors),
and the chief magistrate are selected.

Another circumstance contributes to the abundance
of everything useful in Utopia; which is this — that no
more labour is employed upon any matter than is
necessary to make it useful. In other countries, the
pulling down, remodelling, or rebuilding of houses,
which have no fault but that they do not please the
heir of the person who originally built them, occupies
an immense number of workmen: among the Uto-
pians, however, such waste of labour would be held
ridiculous. In respect to dress, also, each person
while at work wears a suit of clothes made of leather,
or other stout materials, which will last for several
years; and when they go abroad, they wear an upper
garmont, which is everywhere of the same- colour and
fashion; so that the only attention required for their
clothes is to keep them clean, and in good repair.
That waste of labour which is elsewhere expended
upon the changing of fashions and different colours of
dress, is never wanted in Utopii,; and no one would
either feel himself more comfortable, or be more
esteemed by his neighbours, by having those endless
changes which occupy so much idle time and expense
in other countries.

I must now tell you about the way in which they
c.'irry on their intercourse with each other, and how
the labour of one set of tradesmen ptocures them the
necessaries which are manufactured by others. The
whole peoi)le, as I mentioned, is divided into faiuilies,
or small clans: and I should add, that when marriages
take place between members of different clans, the
females, who are not allowed to marry till the age of
twenty-two, leave their own, and live with that into
which they are married ; while the sons, who must
not marry till twenty-six, remain in the paternal
family, under charge of the oldest surviving parent:
no family, however, is permitted to have more than
sixteen members, or fewer than ten. The city being

CIIAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

divided into four quarters, there is a market-place for
each; to this rendezvous every family brings the pro-
duce of its labour, for each species of which there is
a separate storehouse. At the same time that they
thus deposit what ilioy have produced, they take away
with them what they have occasion for at home; and
there is no danger that they should either bring too
little or take away too much. Why should they be
indolent when they have so little lubourl or rapacious,
or greedy, when they know that there is abundance,
and to spare, for all <

Throunh the diiferent parts of the town there are
public halls, where the iniiabitauts eut together, every
thirty families having a common table. They are
summoned to their meals at stated hours by a trumpet
or conch; but every person has liberty to eat at home
if he pleases — a permission of which very few avail
themselves, since the dishes at the public table are
prepared by far more skilful cooks than they are them-
selves. The old and young are intermingled together
ai table, so that the latter may hear and profit by the
conversation of their seniors. For the sick there are
public hospitals in pleasant airy situations without the
walls, where they are nursed with all care, and where
every person is sure of meeting with mure attention
and skill than he could command at home, so that
no one is reluctant to go and reside there wLile af-
fected with any disease.

The Utopians have but a small number of laws,
society being so regulated among them by their ex-
cellent customs, that a very few are sufficient to pre-
serve order. They think that there is nothing more
absurd among other nations than the innumerable
multitude of volume? wliich are occupied with laws ;
and they ask with great reason, how can people obey
rules which are either so obscure that no one can un-
derstand them, or so imraerous that they cannot be
read ) With regard to their own laws, they think
them useless if they seem obscure to the dullest pea-
sant ; and none but the plainest and most obvious
meaning is admitted, all subtle and refined interpre-
tations being cast aside.

They never make war but for some gross injury
done to themselves, or morr especially to their allies ;
but they carry on their hostilities in a very singular
manner. A Utopian ^'eneral would gain no credit by
a bloody victory, how* ver complete : if he cannot over-
come his enemies by iitratajrem and artifice, with little
loss of lives, he is reckoned an unskilful commander.

There are difi^ereut kinds of religion in Utopia ;
sometimes there are even difl'brent forms of worship
in the same city. The sun is adored by some, and
by others the moon ; while a third class pay adora-
tion to some of the planets, reckoning these as in some
sort images or representatives of the Deity. When
they were informed by us of the nature of the Chris-
tian religion, it is impossible to conceive the eager-
ness with which many among them listened, and made
inquiries. A goodly number became Christians, and
no one belonging to the old religion offered the least
hindrance or obstacle to any of the converts. I recol-
lect, indeed, no instance of any person being molested
on account of his religioii, it being an ancient law in
the state of Utopia that no roan's religion shall be
made a reproach to him.

_ The stranger recounted to U8 a number of other
circumstances regarding Utopia, which cannot be inen-
timied now. 1 was much inclined to dispute the pro-
priety of a number )f the regulations of the commu-
nity, which appear' d to me exceedingly absurd ; such
as their mode ol carrying on war, and some of their
ideas as to religion ; but more especially that which
seemed the keystone of the whole, their custom of pos-
sessing all things in common, and prohibiting the use
of money — two regulations which would overthrow,
according to the common opinion at least, everything
which makes the splendour aud power of a common-
wealth desirable to its subjects.'
Such is au account of the far-famed Utopia of Sir
36 '

Thomas More. In later times, schemes not rcry dis>
similar have been seriously proposed by benevolent
speculatists for the reconstruction of society, and partly
carried into practice, though with no prospect of per-
manent continuance. At the head of this class of pro-
jectors stand Robert Owen and Fourier, the latter a
religious enthusiast in France. The plan aimed at
consists in causing fifty or a hundred families, as the
case may be, to live in one community, in which all
are to labour for the general behoof, and all to be sup-
ported on equal terms out of the common stock. In-
dividual property is to be unknown ; all personal feel-
ings are to be sunk in that of the community. How it
is proposed to meet difl^erences as to the education of
children, religious belief, and other important matters,
how evil passions are to be universally extinguished, or
what is to be the consequence of the idle pr«ying on the
industrious, has never been satisfactorily explained.
According to Fourier, we believe, members seriously
transgressing the rules are to be expelled the com-
munity, which amounts to a giving' up of the whole
principle : if the community cannot reclaim and retain
its evil-disposed members, the scheme is confessedly
worthless. Defective as ordinaiy society is allowed to
be, it does not eject the most vicious or the most im-
provident of its members — for the criminal it finds
prisons aud penitentiaries, and to the poor and starv-
ing it offers workhouses ; even the most dissolute can
pick up au alms.

Patriarchal Boclot}*— Clanship.

The patriarchal condition of society has prevailed
in Arabia and other Eastern countries from the most
remote periods of history. It is the most simple kind
of social union. A patriarch, so called from a word
signifying father or head of a family, is the head or
governor of a tribe, who obey his orders, aiid depend iit
a great measure on his judgment. Generally, the office
of patriarch is hereditary, but it is also sometimes
elective. The most distinguished of the ancient patri-
archs was Abraham, the great progenitor of the Hebrew
nation, and who va» originally a dweller in Arabia.
The leaders of tribes in these pastoral regions are now
known by the title of Sheiks — the word sheik in Arabic
signifying the elder or eldest.

In this rudimental state of society, the tribe has
usually no fixed residence, but wanders from place to
place <n company with its flocks and herds, in quest of
pasture, or for the sake of hunting wild animals. In
making their long and toilsome journeys through the
wilderness, the families and tents are carried on the
backs of camels. From leading this wandering life,
the members of these tribes are called Nomadcs ; or are
said to be nomadic in their habits, from a Oreek word
signifying to wander without a fixed habitation. The
wildest, of the modem Arabian iiomades arc termed
Bedotiins, which means inhabitants of the desert, I'bey
are good horsemen, and are reputed to be little better
than robbers ; for they seldom scruple to waylay and
plunder travellers. The only chance of passing safely
through their territories consists in purchasing the
favour of their sheiks, and procuring their promise of
protection. All expect, even for a trifling courtesy, a
present in money, called by them buckilieesh. These
forced presents are a serious tax on European travellers
in Egypt, Syria, Arabia, and other Eastern countries.

From the accounts given of the patriarchal ages in
the Uible, a much more favourable idea is formed
of nomadic life than a closb inspection is found to
warrant. Curried away with pleasing fancies respect-
ing pastoral simplicity and freedom from the cares of
civilisation, we are apt to forget that human passions
are the same in all ages and countries, and that every
condition of life has its own peculiar difficulties and
vexations. The truth seems to be, that this roving,
haphazard mode of existence is full of miseries, and
that force is the only law. Mr Stephens, an Aincrioau
traveller, who lately journeyed through Arabia I'etrsea,
under thp lured protection of a number of Bedouins,

CONSTITUTION OF SOCIETY.

E[i

leaded by their sheik, thus destroys the gloss which
bad been thrown over the nomadic social system : —

' One by one I had seen the many illusions of my
waking dreams fade away ; the gorgeous pictures of
Oriental scenes melt into nothing; but I had still clung
to the primitive simplicity and purity of the children of
the desert, their temperance and abstinence, their con-
tented poverty and contempt for luxuries, as approach-
ing the true nobility of man's nature, and sustaining
the poetry of the '• land of the East." But my last
dream was broken; and I never saw among the wan-
derers of the desert any traits of character, or any habits
of life, which did not make me prize and value more
the privileges of civilisation. I had been more than a
mouth alone with the Bedouins; and to say nothing of
their manners, excluding women from all companion-
ship; dipping their fingers up to the knuckles in the
same dish; eating sheeps' insides, and sleeping under
tents crawling with vermin, engendered by their filthy
habits, their temperance and frugality are from neces-
sity, not from choice; for in their nature they are
gluttonous, and will eat at any time till they are gorged
of whatever they can get, and then lie down and sleep
like brutes. I have sometimes amused myself with
trying the variety of their appetites, and I never knew
them refuse anything that could be eaten. Their
stomach was literally their god, and the only chance of
doing anything with them was by first making to it a
grateful offering ; instead of scorning luxuries, they
would eat sugar as boys do sugar-candy; and I am
very sure if they could have got poundcake, they would
never have eaten their own coarse bread.

One might expect to find these children of nature free
from the reproach of civilised life — the love of gold.
But, fellow-citizens and fellow-worshippers of Mammon,
hold up your heads ! this reproach must not be con-
fined to you. It would have been a pleasing thing to
me to find among the Arabs of the desert a slight simi-
larity of taste and pursuits with the denizens of my
native city; and in the early developments of a thirst
for acquisition, I would have hailed the embryo spirit
which might one day lead to stock and exchange boards,
and laying out city lots around the base of Mount Sinai
or the excavated city of Petra. But the savage was
already far beyond the civilised man in his appetite for
gold ; and though brought up in a school of hun^y and
thirsty disciples, and knowing many in my native city
who regard it as the one thing needful, I blush for
myself, for my city, and for them, when I say that I
never saw one among them who could be compared
with the Bedouin : I never saw anything like the expres-
sion of face with which a Bedouin looks upon silver or
gold. When he asks for bucksheesh, and receives the
glittering metal, his eyes sparkle with wild delight, hi.
fingers clutch it with eager rapacity, and he skulks
away like the miser, to count it over alone, and conceal
it from all other eyes.'

The same species of patriarchal society prevails, as
is well known, among the tribes of North America;
each tribe being governed by its chief, and exposed to
all the calamities of a state of untutored nature.

Out of the patriarchal condition of society in the
East, sprung the system of clanship, long prevalent
among Celtic nations. The word olan signifies family,
and is applied to a tribe claiming to be descended
from one head; the lineal descendant of which is the
chief. All the members of the clan consider him as a
common father and protector, to whom they owe an
implicit obedience. This form of soci';ty was 'irought
into western I'Jurope by the Celts in exceedingly early
times, and disappeared slowly before the encroachments
of the Teutonic races. The last of its strongholds were
the Highlands of Scotland, where it was finally abolished
by law in 1 748, and where it is now only known as
matter of tradition or private feeling.

Slavery.

That every human being possesses a free and inalicn-
ftblti right of property in his own person, seems an unde-

niable proposition. And yet it is one which even till
this day is by no means universally recognised. In
certain countries, there are individuals — men, women,
children — who are not proprietors of themselves; they
are bought and sold, and treated as cattle; and ther
possess no civil rights whatsoever. A person in such
circumstances is called a Slave — a word of modern
origin, supposed to be derived from the Sclav! or Sola-
vonians, whom the Venetian merchant state had the
cruelty to sell into bondage.

Slavery, in one form or other, has existed in the
world from the most remote period of history. It
existed, as we know, among the patriarchs. Joseph
was sold by his brethren to a party of Midianite nier-
chants, who carried him to Egypt, and there sold him
to Potiphar (Genesis, xxxvu). A grievous famine
having occurred in Egypt, the people, after disposing of
all their propertjy in exchange for com, came to Joseph
and oflTered their own bodies and their lands for food.
Joseph complied with their request. * Behold, I have
bought you this day, and your land, for Pharaoh.'
(Genesis, xlvii. 23.) These occurrences alone, men-
tioned without comment, show that selling and buying
human beings was cust'imary in those early times.
From other parts of the Scriptures, we learn that a state
of bondage, which was nearljr equivalent to modem
slavery, was a recognised institution among the Jews.
So also did slavery exist among the ancient Pagan
nations — the Phoenicians, the Greeks, the Romans.

Nothing is more certain than that, in all countries in
ancient times, there was a mass of the population in a
state of compulsory and perpetual servitude. Even in
what are termed the freest states of antiquity, a large
proportion of the people were slaves, and possessed no
civil rights. At one time Athens contained four
hundred thousand slaves, and only twenty thousand
freemen. The practice of slavery arose out of the sel-
fishness of barltarism, and did not appear to its perpe-
trators either sinful or unjust. Debtors were seized,
and, in liquidation of petty claims, sold like ordinary
pro})erty by their ruthless creditors. Gamblers, having
lost everything, staked their persons as a last chance ;
and being unsuccessful, became the bondsmen of the
fortunate winner. Men, for their crimes, were deprived
of liberty, and publicly sold into bondage. In cases of
famine, parents disposed of their children, to relieve
their own wants. And lastly came war, the scourge of
mankind, and the fruitful cause of slavery in all ancient
nations. * It was a law established from time imme-
morial among the states of antiquity,' says a Greek
author, ' to oblige those to undergo the severities of
servitude whom victory had thrown into their hands.'
There was an exceptioi however, in the case of civil
war, the prisoners taken ai which were not made slaves,
but generally massacred. Besides the regular wars be-
tween nation and nation, it sometimes happened that a
vagrant population overran an adjoining country, and
made the peaceful and dispossessed inhabitants their
slaves. Thus the Spartans were served by a race of
hereditary bondsmen, the old inhabitants o^ the dis-
trict, called Helots — a term afterwards used by the
Romans to designate men in a servile condition. The
unfortunate Helots of Sparta occasionally rose in re-
bellion against their masters, and attempted to gain
their liberty; but these efforts were always suppressed
with merciless slaughter.

We have, in these and other circumstances, the most
conclusive evidence that slavery in ancient times existed
on no ground of philosophy or morals — was not sus-
tainetl on any fine-spun plea that one man was radically
inferior to another; but was, as it is still, only a result
of rapacity and force. It was long, indeed, before man-
kind could be brought to recognise its iniquity or impro-
priety; and ever yet certi.in nations find a difiiculty
in viewing it in its true Tght. There being thus still
some controversy on the subject, and liability to mis-
conception, we think it proper to state that, according
to an enlightened philosophy, each human being retains
inherently the right to his own pei-son, and can neither

GHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOB THB PEOPLE.

sell himself, nor bo legally bound by any act of aggreg-
■ion on hii natural liberty. 'Slavery, therefore'— we
quote from the Conversation* Leaicon— * can never
be a legal relation. It reste entirely on force. The
•lave, being treated ai property, and not allowed legal
rights, cannot be under legal obligations. Slavery is
also inconsistent with the moral nature of man. Each
man has an individual worth, significance, and respon-
sibility; is bound to the work of self-improvement, and
to labour in a sphere for which his capacity is adapted.
To give up this individual liberty, is to disqualify
himself for fulfilling the great objects of his being.
« Hence political societies, which have made a consider-

Iable degree of advancement, do not allow any one to
resi^ his liberty, any more than his life, to the plea-
sure of another. In fact, the great object of political
institutions in civilised nations, is to enable man to
fulfil most perfectly the ends of his individual being.
Christianity, moreover, which enjoins us, while we re-
main in this world, to regulate our conduct with refer-
ence to a better, lays down the doctrine of brotherhood
and mutual love, of ' doing as we would be done by,' as
one of its fundamental maxims, which is wholly opposed
to the idea of one man becoming the property of another.
These two principles of mutual obligation, and the worth
of the mdividual, were beyond the comprehension of
the states of antiquity, but are now at the basis of
morals, politics, and religion.'

Regardless, or ignorant of such principles, the most
enlightened nations of antiquity, as we have said, gave
the broadest sanction to slavery; and to this, among
other causes, was doubtless owing their final dismem-
berment. The influence of Christianity modified slavery,
and finally contributed to extinguish it in European
nations; but till the present day, as is well known, the
■laveiy of negro races, or of persons of colour, is main-
tained in all its horrible rigour in some of the states
of North and South America. In Africa and Asia the
institution remains almost unchanged.

Civil Society.

Civil society is constructed on a system of individual
efforts and interests. Each person is expeced to act
an independent part, controlled only by law /aid usage.
While every one is free, therefore, he is at the same
time bound to give obedience to all existing laws, and
respect to all properly-constituted authorities. In con-
sequence of the general freedom which every one enjoys,
and in contradistinction* to the plan of social commu-
nities, society is said to be founded on the competitive
principle. No one being interfered with, all are left to
compete with each other in industrial enterprise. This
may, and does, have the effect of causing a great dis-
parity of condition — men of commanding abilities,
steadiness, and perseverance, usually attaining distinc-
tion and wealth, while those of weaker capacity, or
who are less fortunate, lapse into poverty. It is to be
regretted that such is the case; but, all things con-
sidered, freedom of individual enterprise is be:jt, and
must ever be the basis of civil society. By holding out

search the records of human progreii for the origin of
almost everr institution, as well as for the philosophy
which mav oc drawn from it.

Throughout Europe, society has generally arisen from
similar circumstances. The rudimental germ of every
state was a handful of adventurers, who, by military
prowess, made themselves masters of the country. The
leading men in such enterprises were chiefs with re-
tainers. The principal chief became king; the chiefs
assumed the character of an aristocracy; and the re-
tainers, with tlio inhabitants whom they helped to
subdue, from being at first serfs, finally attained the
rank of a free democracy. It was long, however, before
this latter result was achieved. For many ages, the
chiefs or nobles holding lands by a military tenure
from the sovereign, formed a feudal aristocracy, by
whom in reality the whole system of goveniment was
conducted. The idea of imparting privileges to the
common people wa^ long in dawning on the mind; and
if the nobles had had the power, these privileges never
would have been granted. What, however, is not less
interesting to know, the people '/vere not by any meaiis
unanimous in desiring freedom. As long us they were
serfs or vassals of great men, they were fed, clothed,
and protected ; and such was the rneogreness of capital,
the absence of any means for individual enterprise, that
freedom would in many cases have been equivalent to
starvation. (See History of the Middle Ages.)

The true source of general freedom is the crown.
From h<^vii<g been companions and assistants of the
sovereign, the principal barons were constantly en-
croaching on his prerogatives. Sometimes the conces-
sions of the crown, as those of Magna Charta, made by
King John, were necessary and desirable; but more
frequently the nobles were inclined to exact so much
power in the state as would have rendered the king's
authority a nonentity. The danger of these encroach-
ments caused the monarch to seek aid from the com-
mons. With the view, therefore, of raisuig up a means
of protection in this quarter, he encouraged the build-
ing of cities, to whose inhabitants he gave certain im-
portant privileges. The civic corporations, therefore,
must be viewed as the cradle of freedom. From them
sprung much of the present constitution of society.
Relying on their privileges, and surroui.aed by walls,
these burgher communities defied the nobles, and sided
with the king. From this time, therefore, the feudal ■
principle declined, serfs were gradually emancipated,
and ultimately every man was declared to be equal in
the eye of the law.

It is necessary to be thus particular, for a notion
prevails among the humbler classes that they have
been deprived of rights enjoyed by their ancestors.
History most explicitly shows that, in early times, the
peasantry and operative bodies possessed no privileges
whatever. Magna Charta does not so much as mention
them. Society, in fact, has been quite a progressive
development. Little hy little, privileges have been
widened in their sphere, and are still widening as cir-
cumstances render it desirable. Doubtless it may bo

a premium for diligence, it induces mental culture and ' alleged that all men are equal, and deserve to possess

A VAT>ntaa n (-i/l nTrVivila (ill n •-> i\ta >• ■> 1 mrmA»A** >*!i..> ^^ .!!_ ... ..1 1 1 1 T1..1. i.. j.1.*— ? ;_l- i :__ x1

exercise, and affords all an equal opportunity of dis-
tinguishing themselves. It likewise ought to point out
the duty of establishing systems of universal education,
by which we should be assured that every one at least
possessed the elements of instruction, and means of
•elf-advanccraent. With respect to those who, from
absolute incapacity, and other unavoidable circum-
stances, become poor, it is now a generally settled prin-
ciple that ihey have a claim in law, as well as on
principles of humanity, for support from their more
fortunate fellow-creatures.

The organisation of civil society, though possessing
a general resemblance, difl^ers in a few particulars in
every country. TI^, chief difference consists in the
ddfusion of prinlegos. To understand distinctions of
this nature, it is necessary to peruse a course of history,
ancient and mc'eni. Little can be learne'l from look-
ing at the present aspects of things; we require to
8S

equal privileges. But to this principle, true in the
abstract, there are some practical ortjections, which
will afterwards engage attention. Meanwhile, we desire
to fix attention on the vast impulse given to civilisa-
tion by the erection of cities.

Cities.

It is to cities or large towns that mankind chiefly
owe the blessings of civilisation, and the valuable insti-
tutions which they now enjoy. 'With cities, everything
that is great and glorious — arts, science, literature —
began, and after beginning, was duly fostered. Through
their means civil society began to assume a more syste-
matic cliaracter. The division of labour, the refine-
ments of social intercourse, the development of laws
caused by the conflicting interests of many people
living closely together, the idea of equality of rights,
the growth of patriotism, springing fcom tha stuso of

CONSTITTTION OF SOCIETY.

hdvantagei enjoyed, and the exertions neceaaar^ to
luaiiitain them, were the salutary cousequeuces ol the
eatablishmeut of cities.

Under the mild sky of Asia, Africa, Greece, and
Italy, cities were built iSrat, and in the greatest num-
ber. The Phoeuiciana and Egyptians particularly dib-
tiiiguished themselves by the erection of cities, which
goon attained a high degree of wealth, and conse-
quently of civilisation. The Egyptians considered
their city Diospolis (Thebes) older than any of the
Uruek cities; and Pliny says that Cecropia (erected
in Attica by Cecrops, 15B2 d.c, and afterwards called
Athens) was tho oldest city of Greece. Several ucn-
federatious of cities existed in the ancient world; for
instance, the Phoenician, consistin' if the cities of
Tyre, Sidon, &c.; and the Achaean leag>.e, formed
by the most important citiea of Greece, in order to
strengthen themselves against the power of Macedon.
Under Augustus and hia successors, the Uojiana began
to establiali colonial citiea in Germany, having done
tho aame long before in Gaul, Spain, Africa, &c. In
Switzerland, they first erected citiea about a.d. 70,
which, however, were moatly laid waste by the Ale-
i^anni, and subsequently rebuilt under the govern-
ment of the Franks (a.d. 496).

The Germans, accustomed to a wild, rambling life,
did not show any disposition to live in cities, until
Charlemagne laboured to collect them together in set-
tled abodes, from hia desire to civilise them. Henry I.
distinguished himself particularly iu this way, and on
this account has been called by some Henry the City-
builder. He gave the citiea great privileges, in order
to induce hia subjects to live in them, and thus laid
the foundation of that power which at a future period
contributed most to break down the feudal ayatem.
In many citiea, imperial castles were erected to protect
the inhabitants; and the insupportable oppressions and
even cruelties exerciaed by the feudal lords upon their
peasants, or by the wandering knights and robbers,
drove many people into the cities. The attacks of the
neighbouring lords gave firmness to their union, and
compelled them to cultivate theit resources. Com-
merce, and the various arts and trades, were soon culti-
vated within their walls, and their wealth and respec-
tability increased. They soon became sensible of the
want of a better system of laws and administration
than that which prevailed around them, and the priu-
ciple of equal rights and laws was quickly developed.

One of the most important remnants of the great
fabric of ancient civilisation, was the cities of Italy.
What the world would hi:.ve become without them is
not to be calculated. In s^ ite of their bloody contests
with each other, and the vices to which these gave rise,
they must be considered as having lighted the torch of
modern civilisation. It was not the monarchiea, it
was not the courts of the great princes, it was the citiea
of Northern Italy, which opened the way for the pro-
gresa of improvement; and the petty princes of Italy
caught from them the spirit which prompted their
eiforts to promote it. Under the reign of Conrad III.
(113U-52), the cities of Lombardy, and particularly
Milan, which stood at their head, had acquired a high
degree of wealth and power, and had formed them-
selves into a confederation. The struggles between the
emper srs and these cities form one of the most impor-
tant portions of the history of the German empire and
of Italy. Frederick I. in vain demolished the powerful
city of Milan. It was aoon rebuilt, and the cities of
Lombardy, in alliance with the pope, obliged the em-
peror to conclude with them a very disadvantageous
peace at Constance. Two other confederations of cities,
highly important, were formed during tho interregnum
of the German empire, between 12.56 and 1272. One
of them was the poweri'ul league of the Hana tovvns ;
the other, the confederacy of the High German and
Rhenish citiea, from the foot of the Alpa to the mouth
of the JIaine, established by Walpode of Mentz, in
1255. A similar confederacy, and a very important
onc; was that of the Suabiau cities, instituted iu 14)1U,

to repel the outrages of the feudal lords and knights.
Uy degrees, groat cities arose in the different countries ;
and wealth, industry, knowledge, and equal laws,
spread from them through Europe.

Much has been said and written against the immo-
rality of large towns and cities, and the fact cannot be
denied; but immorality is not confined to them. The
petty vices of small places, though leaa glaring, ar«
perhapa equally injurioua, making up in constant re-
petition for their comparatively less degree of noxious-
ueaa. It is much more difficult, moreover, to preserve
one of the most important possessions — independence
of character-^in a small place than in a large one.
The cry against the immorality of large cities should
not make us forget the many great and admirable
things which mankind have been ?nabled to perform
by means of the collected strength of talents and re-
Bourcea combined in large citiea, and their influence
in forming the character of great men, who could not
have acquired elaewhere their variety of accompliah-
ments, and the well-proportioned cultivation of their
various faculties. At the aame time, we muat allow
that it is a very injurious policy to strip a whole coun-
try of all which illustrates and ennobles it, iu order to
swell the treasures of the capital.

Capitals, in the modem meaning of the word, can
hardly be said to have existed in ancient times ; at
least they were then only the seat of the sovereign,
but not the centre of all the national activity, Rome
only perhaps excepted ; but this city was for a verjr
long time, the state itself, and, at a later period, the
tyrant of the whole empire, rather than the head of a
well-organised body. In Asia there existed, indeed,
in ancient times, capitals of very large empires; but
they are not to be compared to the capitals of large
modern empires, since the channels of communication
and intercourse had not then reached that degree of
perfection which enables them in our daya to bring
mto close connection all parta of a country. Each pro-
vince was therefore left much more to itself. It would
be difficult to determine whether the good or evil con-
aequencea of large capitala in modern times are greater,
and such an examination would far exceed our limits;
otherwise it would be very easy to point out, in every
department of civilis..tion, in science, social intercourse,
arts, &c. both ealutary and pernicious effects resulting
from the influence of capitala. It seems to us a matter
of little doubt that it must be regarded as disadvanta-
geous to any country if th^ capital ceases to be tho
concentration of the skill, genius, and strength of a
nation, for the benefit of the whole, and by a dispropor-
tionate superiority destroys the importance of the rest
of the country, as we find to be the case with Paris,
which, as has been often observed, contains France.
In Germany, the state of things is quite the reverse.
There is no city which may boast of being the point of
national concentration. The consequences have been
very advantageous to science, and somewhat disadvan-
tageous to literature. In politics, this want of a central
point has had melancholy consequences for Germany.
London never exercised that degree of influence over
England which Paris has over France; one reason of
which may be, that the institutions for the difl'usion of
knowledge are not iseated in the metropolis. The system
of concentration has, there is little doubt, been carried
to an extreme in Europe — the best of everything having
been collected in the capitals, and the provinces hav-
ing been almost stripped of pictures, libraries, &c. In
many countries this fault is acknowledged, and a re-
turn to a more equitable system is perceptible. The
injury done to the provincial towns in Britain by the
concentration of institutions of various kinds in the
capital, is likely soon to be greatly modified, by tho
establishment of railways and oi,her improved means
of communication, which will tend to give all parts
of the kingdom an equality of advantages.*

* Tho above observations on oitiea are abridged from an ia«
structivu article in the ' Conversations Iiezicou.'

CHAMBERS'S INPOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

GOVERNMENT.

" If all mankind were naturally virtuom, and diiposed
to act justly and kindly towards each other, there would
be little use in establishing any kind of government.
According to ancient poets, there was once a period
called the (iolden Age, in which there prevailed uni-
versal peace and loving-kindness, and vice had no exist-
ence, Never was there such a period. The farther
back we go in history, we find that society was the more
rude. Civilisation has been a plant of slow growth,
often retarded, and oAeu springing up afresh. The
world never was better than it is at this moment.
According to all er.perience, society cannot exist with-
out some spt-i'ius of government. It must posaess a
power to enforce order, to prevent the strong from op-
pressing the weak, to chastise vice, and perform many
other necessary functions. The government luarbe
good or it may be bad, but a governnient of some kind
there must be. There will always, in every society, be
aome who have a desire to rule over others — to make
others work out their purposes — and some who are
■atisfied to submit to the domination of those who are
more ambitious. There will always be among those
who are ambitious of governing, some who unite to the
desire the talents necessary to enable them to attain
their ends, and others who do not; some who seek to
found their power upon their own force, or upon the
prejudices of others, or upon their power of persuading
or convincing men that they know better what is good
for them than they do themselves. The propensities
and faculties which induce and enable some men to
aspire to be leaders, others to contest the leadership
with them, and others, again . contentedly to follow the
lead, are implanted in them by nature; they cannot
help having or exei-cising them. But it is with these
elements of our nature as it is with our instinctive
propensities to eat and drink, to love or hate; by the
proper use of their knowing and rejecting powers, men
may so control and direct them, m to render them in-
struments for producing great good and happiness to
the whole human race.

FORMS OF QOVERNSIENT.

The patriarchal and clanship systems of government
have been already adverted to. With these mankind
may be said to have made a beginning. The next step
in progress seems to have been a government by kings.
The origin of kingly power is fighting. lie who was
the bravest warrior, assumcL', or was given, the office of
king, with a supreme dictatorial authority. In some
ancient nations, a government of priests superseded
that of kings. This species of government was called
a theocracy, from Theos, the Greek word for God ; it
being represented by the priests that they ruled only
according to the decrees or will of God. Although to
a great extent based on superstitious fears, the priestly
governments were an advance on governments of mere
fighting men, because they preserved tranquillity, and,
on the whole, were for the benefit of the people.

Out of these early systems of government, iv con-
junction with the experience of ages, all existing
governments have sprung. Although, however, there
is nothing of which mankind has had so extensive or
so varied a knowledge, it is till this hour undetermined
whether there be such a thing possible as a perfect
government. Much has been written on the subject;
but the result of all inquiry seems to be, that nothing
Is certain, except a fev/ general principles. Those,
therefore, who contend for any particular model of
goveniiuent, without a duo regard to circumstances,
only pursue a delusive fancy. No species of govern-
ment that could be devised will a])ply universally.
Schemes the most brilliant on paper come to nought
when tried by the rude shocks of daily events. Forms
of govenimeut, in short, are as yet arbitrary and un-
settled ; and the only practical jirinciplc of any value
whicli we know is, that every nation should possess a
40

government ia harmony with its state of civilisation,
and the tastes and habits of the more enlightened por-
tions of the community.

As there is, in the present condition of the world,
no such thing as a universally suitable form of govern-
ment, so the form of government of any particular
country requires to vary and alter its character in
adaptation to the advance or retrogression of society.
In proportion as the people ara ignorant and turbu-
lently disposed, the government requires to be strong
and arbitrary; and according as the people are enlight-
ened, and disposed to live peacefully, the goveniment
may be mild and liberal. The ambition of kings and
emperors no doubt is observed to sustain an arbitrary
rule in circumstances where greater freedom should be
accorded; but as a general principle, it is evident that
arlitrary military governments can only exist perma-
nently where the people at large are incapable of guid-
ing and enjoying free institutions. Sooner or later, the
government of every country must bring itself into
harmony with the society it overrules, otherwise it will
suffer the risk of being overthrown. The cause for this
is evident. It cannot escape notice that every govern-
ment acts upon its subjects by means of themselves;
it employs its subjects to keep its subjects in obedience.
The consequence of this is, that in every country, and
in all ages, the most seemingly despotic government is
kept in check by the opinions of its subjects. No
government has ever with impunity set at defiance the
opinions, be thejr well-grounded or be thev prejudices,
moral and religious, of its subjects. The Ottoman
sultan, at the time when his power was greatest, never
dared to act contrary to the law of the Koran. Henry
II. of England was obliged to humble himself before
the religious sentiments of his age, outraged in the
person of Thomas-a-Becket. Civil govornment-«-poli-
tical action — is human Ingenuity working by human
means. It is this necessity under which ?very govern-
ment lies, of governing its subjects by its subjects,
which puts the whole community in possession of an
engine, by the proper application of which, government
may be obliged to work for the general good.

Government being thus compelled to a certain degree
to make justice and the good of the community its
aim, it is important that the community be so enlight-
ened and organised in opinions and wishes that it will
easily and unobtrusively act on the controlling autho-
rity. There ir another object to be gained by thus
enlightening and organising the people, besides that of
making them an efficient check upon government when
it goes wrong; it is only by enlightening ana organising
the people that they can be rendered capable of lending
due force to the operations of government, when these
are what they ought to be. An unenlightened people
is quite as likely to entertain mistaken notions of what
is for its good as correct ones; it is quite as likely to
oppose government when it tries to do what is right,
and to support it when it tries to do what is wrong, as
the reverse. Government was in the right when, about
the year 17R0, it repealed some of the worst enactm>>p^r>
against the Catholics; but tha people were so far from
heartily approving of this act of justice, that Lord
George Gordon's riots in London, and the buniii. g of
Catholic chapels in Edinburgh, had nearly frightened
government out of its good intentions.

The first step, then, in making such arrangements as
are necessary for keeping government in its just and
useful I'ae of action, is to enlighten the people. There
goes ir jre towards enlightening the people than merely
giving them school instruction, however thorough and
extensive that may be. The people require to take
every opportunity of acquiring knowledge, of extend-
ing their stock of ideas, of elevating their tastes, and of
cultivating a brotherly benevolence. The great retard-
ing influence in every nation has been less the arbitrary
will of governnient, than the mass of ignorance which haa
nestled in the bosom of society. A consideration of this
circuiustancL ought to temper observations on the strictly
monarchical and aristocratic forms of government.

CONSTITttlOif OF SOdEtY-QOVERUMfiNf.

Arlttooncht.
An arulocruci/, n cluss of privileged nobles, hiw Its
orijrin in the wrcuinitaiice that greater skill, enterpune,
intelligence, and peweverance, at first threw a com-
paratively great an\ount of wealth and ])ower into the
tianda of a few families; that the management of
that wealth, and the exercise of the power and in-
fluence, were occupations calculated to give a greater
practical development to the propensities and faculties
of their descendants, than tho routine drudgery of
those who earned their daily food by their dailpr labour.
We have no desire to jjalliate the • '» of aristocratic
government. That degree of oi..igiitenment which
enables men to lord it over others, is not necessarily
accompanied by that hisher enlightenmeat which
teaches the beauty and utility of self-control, and the
exercise of justice to all. But we nmst not, therefore,
shut our eyes to the fact, that aristocratic govern-
ment is one of the stages through which all societies
must pass in their way to something better; that so-
ciety advances as man walks, by putting one part of
tho body foremost, and dragging tho rest up to it; that
the love of power, and skill in acquiring and exercising
it, must be realised in the few, in order to excite the
desire of a share of it in all. That inequality of dvi-
lisation which gives rise to aristocratic power and
influence, exists in many dift'erent forms and modifica-
tions. Even in our own country an uncivilised class
is found — that unfortunate class which supplies the
precarious demand for the lowest kinds of unskilled
labour, and which fills our police-oflices and other courts
of justice with the greater number of the victims to
the security of society.

In a rude society, there is wanting that enlighten-
ment which is necessary to confer upon the subjects
or citizens the power ot keeping their government in
the path of its duties. In a partially-civilised society
' — a society in which some classes are considerably ad-
vanced in civilisation, while others are still rude, nelp-
less, and ignorant — onl^ a portion of the citizens will
be able to exercise this control. They will exercise
it to their own advantage, neglecting the interests of
the powerless classes, roost frequently from thought-
lessness, but sometimes at the impulse of motives still
less excusable. The onl^ guarantee men can have for
good government, is their power to exact it ; and the
foundation of that power is knowledge or intelligence
— intelligence imparted by civilisation, and heightened
by teaching — knowledge ditfused through every section
of the community. Wherever there is an ignorant
class, it will be weak; and wb'^rever men are weak,
they will be oppressed. No chain can be stronger than
its weakest link ; no society more powerful tnan the
most ignorant section of its members.

Experience has shown to bola governors and governed
that the preservation of rights from attempts at inva-
sion is a paramount duty. The Roman plebeians, as
measures of self-defence, obtained from their rulers, at
difl!erent times, tribunes invested with power to gur.rd
their rights, the right of "lecting one of their own
number to be consul, and various other concessions, all
which at the time appeared to thein to be sufficient to
assure them o'l' just government in tiine to come. In
our own country. Magna Charta and the Bi!l of Rights
were bargains struck betweeu the governors Mid the
governed for the same puqiose. AH these arrange-
ments, whether well adapted to promote the end in
view or not, are what are called constitutions, or con-
stitutional governments. They are bargains struck
between the government and the people at large, award-
ing to each party certain powers or privileges, which
the other becomes bound to respect. The object in
view is to render it possible to check those evils at the
very outset, which, if allowed to go on, lead to revolts
and revolutions — to enable the people, by keeping a
steady watch over the motions of their rulers, to mark
their first aberrations from the right, to remonstrate in
time — to prevent injustice, instead of revenging it.

Constitutions of government have been detiied and
adopted as various as the habits, opinions, amount of
wealth and knowledge, and distribution of them among
the people who have devised them, A constitution is
adopted in the belief that it will secure the enjoyment
of their just rights, alike to the governors and the
governed; it is an avrangement by which the privileges
of all are equally secured; or, to use a familiar ex-
planation, it is A bargain made between the governors
and governed, or- among the whole members of society
mutually, as to how the ^oveniment shall be conducted,
so as to insure civil and religious liberty — liberty of
action, and liberty in the expression of opinion, within
certain legal limits. A constitutional is thus the
highest form of government — the only kind of govern-
ment worthy of a civilised community.

DeapotlsmB.

At the present time, the greater proportion of the
governments throughout the world are of the character
of deipotismt, -.nd comparatively few possess what are
called coMtitMioM, Uf the multifarious class of des-
potisms which exist among barbarous nations, it is
hero needlees to say anything; for the question of form
of government only becomes interesting when applied
to a wholly or partially -civilised people. The three
great despotisms in Europe are Russia, Austria, and
Prussia — though the latter is now perhaps entitled to
be removed from this class, in consequence of the king
having granted a modified constitution. Austria and
Russia are rigorous despotisms, each being governed
exclusively by an emperor. In these countries, any one
can be leeally seized, without previous notice, and
transferred to a dungeon for life, or sent as an esile to
a distant part of the empire. The press is under a
rigoi'ous censorship, travelling is regulated by pass-
ports; and the whole people are under the eye of a
strict military police. We may be sure that the com-
munity which submits to all this is still in a transition
and unsatisfactory condition.

Constitutional Monarchies.

Europe abounds in constitutional governments, but
many of them are scarcely entitled to the name. Sar-
dinia, Saxony, Sweden, Hamburg, and all the smaller
German states, have constitutions of one kind or other;
that is to say, the king, grand-duke, chief ruler, or by
whatever title he is called, is restricted in his designs
by estates composed of delegates from diflTerent orders
of the people. We should consider it quite useless to
present detailed explanations of these constitutions, be-
cause all, or ncirly so, are little better than a mockery.
The reigning monarch can either directly neutralise the
will of the estates, or he and they, together or sepa-
rately, are under the influence of armed intervention.
The Dutch have a constitution, but they have no right
of public meeting for political objects; their press is
under a censorship ; all must carrv passports; andp^ery
citizen, in any kind of trade ov profession, is required
to pay for a license. The icfant and still disorganised
constitutions of Spain and Portugal it is unnecessary
to notice. At present, Germany is making eflbrts to
establish a constitution of the difi%rent states collec-
tively ; the probability is that these aims will not be
realised without much disorder and suflTering.

British Constitution. — From the raw and ill-regulated
constitutions of most continental nations we ascend to
the old-established and well-guaranteed constitution
of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland,
The government of this large empire (which we need
not here particularise, as it will be fully treated of
in our article Constitution and Resouuces of the
Dritimh Empire) is a perfect anomaly, and, though
frequently imitated, has never, in a monarchical form,
been excelled. The legislature, as is well known, con-
Eists of a hereditary sovereign (king or queen, as the
ca.10 may be), a hereditary House of Peers, and an
eloctpd House of Commons. A Parliament is the terra
used to express the coUectivo bodies of King, Lords,

CHAMBBBffS INFORMATION FOR THU PEOPLK.

ftnd Cominoni. EUctow of memben of the IIouio of
Common* must be imtire or iiaturellied »ul)jecti, malei
of twenty -one yeari or upwMdi, of »»iie mind, not con-
cerned in the management or collection of the revenue,
not lioldint; any oftce in the metropolitan police, and
wot legally convicted of perjury, subornation of perjury,
or bribery. In counties, an elector must bo possossed
of property in perpetuity or liferent to the value of A'lO
yearly, or lands held at a yearly rent of i'50. In cities
or boroughs he must ))e proprietor of a house or shop
valued, along with the land attached to it, at illOjfearly
and upwards; or must occupy lyremises for which he
pays a rent of at least ;£ 10 por annum.

Such, with certain moditications, is the prhiciple on
which members are elected. In practice, it is found
ii'.at nmch of the elective privilege is exercised by,
or under the inilucncj of, the landed gentry, in which
we include the titled aristocracy "f the country. At
no time have what are called the lower or working-
classes (freemen excepted) possessed the elective privi-
lege; and it has only been since the Reform Act of 1(131
that the middle classes (shopkeepers, master trades-
men, manufacturers, farmets, &c.) have had the sem-
blance of direct re])resentation. With this alteration,
however, it cannot be said that the legislature has un-
dergone much material improvement. Too frequently
the members are still nominees of the landed gentry, or
of corporations; and so much time is usually spent in
electoral intrigues, parliamentary debates which lead
to nothing, as well as the conciliation of parties, that
the business of the nation is continually falling behind,
or but indifferently exncuted.

In whichever way it is viewed, the legislature of the
United Kingdom is essentially the reflex of the landed
gentry t^d aristocracy, nnd consequently the interests
of these classes are uriformly the chief matter for con-
sideration. The next great interest cared for has till
lately been the West India interest; next the shipping
interest; next the military and naval interests; and
lastly, the commercial interest, and the interest of the
people. The executive, reposed in the hands of a re-
sponsible ministry, takes its character from these com-
peting interests. The execution of any project of law
or government is, to all appearance, rarely a result of
principle, but in almost every case an immediate con-
sequence of temporary ex )ediency. Power is attained
by skill in gaining a numb jr of supporters, and recained
by skill in keeping them together. So much of the
British statesman's effoi'ts, during his apprenticeship to
power, and his exercise of power, arc devoted to the
getting and keeping of power, that he is necessarily
deficient in natural and acquired administrative talent.
The manner in which the administrative functions of
government are executed, depends upon the industry
and honesty of officials not responsible to public opinion,
not liable to be dismissed unless convicted ol gross
dereliction of duty, and of whom their chiefs ask little
mo'e than sufficient attention and skill to save them
from saccessful criminations by opposition. This kind
of organisation weakens the direct pressure of public
opinion upon administration; and, at the samo tiiue,
by encouraging personal canvassing for political sup-
port, and the cultivation of impressive oratory, diverts
public attention from the dry business of goveniiiient,
to sympathise with personal squabbles, and attention to
abstract questions, more imposing, but less immediately
important, than practical details. The consequence is,
that the British government, more than any other in
Europe, has been characterised by the expenditure of
immense energy, with very disproportionate results.

Whether any further iiUroduction of the democratic
principle (lowering the elective franchise) into the
constitution would improve its qualities, is extremely
doubtful. The people, taken in the mass, are still far
from being instructed. A vast number can neither
read nor write ; and such is the distressing state of po-
verty and wretchedness of large communities in towns,
that, with their small knowledge of public affairs,
oud liability to be corrupted, it is to be feared they |
42

would appoint men of inferior qualification!, or who*
ever i>aid them most liberally. The freemen voter*
(working men) of Norwich, and some other towns, make
a regular sale of their votes on the occasion of olectioni.
In tuis strangely-complicated condition of aiikirs, tha
only real restraint on government is public opinion,
expressed through the me<lium of the newspaper press
and public meetings. Without these two qualifying
elements, the government and legislature would be, not
only in name, but in character, a powerful oligarchy.
As the case is, the restraint, though clumsy, is, on the
whoie, efficacious ; and therefore, with all its errors
and anomalies, the constitution is one of the most
favourable to civil liberty. The very weakness of the
executive, as respects the means of keeping its place,
and its obligation to conciliate parties, is hignly favour-
able to popular freedom. In no mouarchv on the faco
of the earth is the executive so liberal — that is, inter-
feres so little with private conduct. Under its adminis-
tration the folio win <; important conditions are secured:
—Liberty of spei'i 'i within constitutional limits ; a
similar liberty of tlie press in all its departments;
liberty of personal locomotion, no passports being re-
quired; liberty of carrying on almost everv branch of
trade without inquiry or license; liberty of meeting in
mosses to be instructed by lectures on political or other
subjects ; liberty of meeting to discuss any pclitical
topic, general or local; liberty of presenting petitions to
parliament and memorials to the crown; religious tole-
ration, and liberty for the performance of all forms of
worship; liberty of setting up schools to instruct pupils
in any branch of learning; protection from the law to
life and property, without respect of person; privilege
of trial by jury, and of forcing on a trial for anv alleged
offence; privilege of being held as innocent till proved
to be guilty; incomiptibility of judges, these being no
way exposed to intimidation either from powtr or popu-
lar prejudice. To these great bulwarks of civil liberty
may be added the absence of military conscription ;
the non-existence of fortified or walled towns ; the
promptitude with which riotous proceedings are quashed
and the peace preserved ; and the absence of any re-
striction to prevent the most humble individual from
rising to the highest rank and consideration. The draw<
backs on all tlieso advantages may be comprised in
the following circumstances : — The existence of a set
of laws so complex as to be unintelligible, and so
expansive in administration, that legal redress, as far
as private interests are concerned, is almost beyond
the reach of the lower classes ; certain restrictions
on free commercial intercourse with foreign nations;
the too prevailing treatment of all great questions in
parliament with reference to classes instead of to th'4
whole people ; and lastly, the absence of a national
system of education, which niicht ii) time elevate the
minds and morals of the people, and altogether pro-
duce a more whulcsomo social condition. Fortunately,
these circumstances are all of a nature which admit
of amendment; and they will, as a matter of course,
be amended, as ptUilic opinion, enliijhlened by knoW'
ledge, is brought to bear upon them.

Republics.

A republic or commonwealth is » form of government
in which the people, or at least a large portion of them,
are acknowledgcdly the source of power, and have the
direct appointment of the officers of the legislature and
cxticutive. There are few of this class of governroeuts
ill existence. The only republics worthy of the name
in Europe [we lay aside consideration of the un-
tried, and, we may say, yet unconstituted republic of
France] are those of the Swiss cantons; each of which
is a territory of generally a few square miles in size,
and inhabited by a iavt thousands of people, chiefly
engaged in husbandry. In these cantons there are no
great properties, and no families equivalent to our
landed gentry. There are some wealthy and intelli-
gent merchants in the large towns; but the bulk of
the population are a hard-toiling laco of small farmera^

CONSTITUTlOir OF SOOIETT-OOVERNMENT.

and little !■ M«n abore a condition of mean medio-
crity. The legialative and exncutive functioni are con-
ducted in accordance with thii state of thiugi. Some
of the lawi are contemptible, from the narrow-minded
viewi the^ exhibit — luch ai thoio in lonio cantoni to
|)reTent dancing, and to prevent the purchaM of houies
or land by itrangeri; but other enacttuonti, particu-
larly ai to freedom of trade, am much to bo coniniended.
Theiie republici, centering in a general did ' i loiigreu,
aro greatly under the inilucnoe of Auitruv and other
munarchicB, by which, indeed, they aro in a great mca-
»uro tolerated only from mutual jealousy, ami Mcause
the country i» in lome placet almost maccessible to
hpstile invasion, A constant drainage of the Swita
overplus population into France and to North America,
helps to avert the catastrophe of a universal degrada-
tion to semi-pauperism,

(Jn the continent uf America, various republics have
been founded on the wreck of the colonial institutions
of Europe. The principal is the United States of North
America, now upwards of half a century old. The form
of the legislature and executive is very nearly that of
England; the main diiference bein^ un elective Presi-
dent as chief magistrate, instead ot a hereditary sove-
reign, and the appointment of judicial and other func-
tionaries by the people, instead of by the crown. The
country is not one, but an aggregation of rcpubi:;:8 ;
each state being independent of tlbe others as respects
internal management. The power of legislation for
the States, in their united character, is vested in a
House of Representatives and a Senate, jointly form-
ing a Congress. The House of Ilepresentatives is com-
posed of members chosen nvery second year by the
people of the United States. The electors in each
state are required to have the qualifications requisite
in the electors of the most numerous brunch of the
state legislature. Representatives are apportioned
among the several states of the Union according to
their respective numbers, which are determined by
addin" to the whole number of free persons (including
those ) ound to serve for a term of years, and exclud-
ing Inaians not taxed) three-fifths of all other persons.
The House of Representatives consists of one member
for everv 77,700 persons in each state, estimated accord-
ing to this rule: the enumeration is made by a general
census taken every ten years. No person is eligible
as representative who has not completed his twenty-
fifth year, and been seven years a citizen of the United
States, and who is not, when elected, resident in the
state for which he is chosen. The Senate of the United
States is composed of two senators from each state,
elected by the legislature thereof for six years. One-
third of the Senate goes out, and is replaced by a new
election every two years. A senator must be thirty years
of age, nine years a citizen, and resident in the state
for which he is elected. All members, both of the gene-
ral and state legislatures, are paid for their services.

The President is elected by the whole people, for a
term of four years: at the close of that period he may
be re-elected ; and, with the exception of three, all the
presidents of the United States have been re-elected
for a second .term. Each state appoints a certain num-
ber of electors, who meet in their respective states, to
vote for President and Vice-President, one of whom
ut least shall not be an inhabitant of the state. In
Delaware, South Carolina, and Tennessee, the legis-
lature chooses the electors; in Maine and Maryland,
electors are chosen by the people voting for one or more
in each district; in all the rest of the states, they are
chosen by a * general ticket,' upon which the whole of
the electors vote. The electors transmit sealed lists of
all the persons voted for as President, and all those
voted for as Vice-President, to the President of the
Senate, who opens the lists, r.nd counts the votes, in the
presence of the Senate and House of Representatives.
If for the person having the greatest number of votes
for President, a majority of the whole electors have
voted, he is declared President; if fewer, the House of
Representatives elects by ballot one of the three who

stand highest on the list. If for the person kaTlns tKt
most votes for Vice-President, a majority of all the
electors have voted, he is declared Vice-President; if
not, the Senate names one of the two who stand highest
on the list. The President and Vice-President must
bo natural-born citizens, thirty-five years of age, and
fourteen years resident within the United States. The
principle of electing re|)re8entatives to the state legis-
latures is almost that of universal suti'rage; in most
instances, every male citizen above twenty-one years of
age who has resided a year in the state is an elector.

With an inmiensely large unoccupied territory, and
general thinness of population, it is impossible to draw
any just inference as to the stability ol this still com-
paratively raw and untried republican government.
It is suitable to the present condition of the country;
but whether it will maintain this character after its
population has become as dense as that of England,
and great diversities of wealth and intelligence have
arisen, is a question which time alone can determine.
In the meanwhile, the general character of the executive
is feeble. The people, in a sense, aro masters of the
law, and have it in their newer (in virtue of elective
privileges) to intimidate its officers, or absolutely to
set them at defiance. In the middle and eastern
states, the efficiency of government for the repression
of crimes is about the same as in (Jreat Britain ; but
in the western states neither life nor property is safe
from popular outbreak. The prevalence of slavery in
the southern states aggravates this evil : personal se-
curity in New Orleans is at a lower ebb than in Italy
or Aladrid. Still, with these drawbacks, the United
States is a great nation, in which civil freedom is on a
grand scale, and is worthy of the enlightened commu-
nity which has established and supports it.

Revolutions.

A revolution is the overthrow of a government by
some kind of convulsion out of the usual course of law,
and the establishment of a new one in its stead. Modem
history contains several examples of revolutions: — The
deposition of monarchy and execution of Charles I.,
and the establishment of a Commonwealth, with Crom-
well as dictator, formed the greatest revolution which
has occurred in England, though it is never spoken of
under that definition. The change of dynasty in 1G88,
with the guarantee of a constitution, is referred to as
the RevulutiiM, and no doubt it was the commencement
of a new system of government. This revolution had
the singular merit of being effected with little or no
violence. The revolt of the American colonies, and
their assumption of independence, was a distinctly
marked revolution, effected by military force, and
crowned with a degree of success which astonished
Europe. It was shortly followed by the revolution in
France in 1789, to the violence and consequences of
which no parallel is found in history.

Revolutions ai-e almost invariably a result of mis-
government. Tenaciously clinging to old usages, and
opposing themselves to every species of equitable re-
form required by alterations in society, governments
sometimes, as in the foregoing instances, become so
repugnant to the feelings of the nation, that at length
a rebellion ensues, and if successful, it becomes a re-
volution. The revolution which placed Cromwell at
the head of aflairs in England, originated in Charles I.
levying taxes without the concurrence of parliament.
The revolution of 1688 was caused by James II. assum-
ing arbitrary powers vexing to the nation. The Ame-
rican revolution occurred in consequence of government
imposing taxes on the colonists, while they were not
represented in parliament, and therefore in violation of
the constitutional maxim of — no taxation without repre-
sentation. The cause of the French Revolution, in 1789,
was an entire disorder in society; but it was precipitated
by the refusal of the clergy and nobility to contribute
any share whatever of the national taxes. A timely
concession on the part of these bodies to aid the de-
clining finances, by giving up a portion of their unjust

CHAMDBM'fl INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

tkempUoni from taiatlon, would prcbuMy li»v« averttNl
tha terrible onlttmity which eniueii.

From eTory reTolution which hiw owurred, all goTerti-
ineiiti may learn the raluable lonnoii of actinu wllh a
prudent regard to conitantly chon«inK circunutaiicoe
and feelinK*- Without yieldiug to ovury clamour, it
ii their duty and interuit to ailapt theniiclvei to tho
progreMlre viewi of mankind ; Kraciouily advancing
with the Intelligence of the age, and not franticly, a«
ha« been too often the cane, routing a public indigna-
tion, which jiorhapi may lay them in ruin». I.eiioni
equally uieful, howerer, nia^ be learned by the peonle
from revolution!. To vtep in the iligbteit degree be-
yond the limit! of conititutional law, and BMunio an
attitude hoitile to government, ii alwayi dangeroui
in the extreme — treaionahle if defeated, and perhapi
productive of unipeakable horror* if tucceuful. Judg-
ing from the Cromwellian and the Krench Revolution,
betide* lome tucceuful revolt* of letter note, it
would appear that a revolution in general circuni-
itancei rum a certain tpecific courie. Firtt, the old
government it overthrown, and one thought to bo
more liberal it ettablithed. Second, the new govern-
ment being competed of men who acted front a con-
Kiwntiout conviction of evili to bo rudrvitcd, it toon
found not to go far enough in itt mooiurei ; it it
accuted of boing too inoderato, and it overthrown.
Third, a violent let of men, animated by feelingt of
vengeance, and profetting boiindleti liberality, coii-
■truct a freth government. Fourth, anarchy tooner or
later eniuei, the nation it in univertal ditorder, and
life and property are no longer lecure. Fifth, out of
the con Tuition aritet an individual, who, by hit mili-
tary geniut, conquert inferior demagoguet, and bringt
back a degree ot tranquillity at which every one re-
joicei. Sixth, thit tranquillity it ipcedily found to be
a military deipotiim: a Cromwell or a Napoleon it at
thn head of anairt. And, brought to thit condition, a
long course of lutfering it endured before the nation
returns to the constitutional point whence it tet out.
Varied according to circumstances, such is likely to be
the progress of every revolution occurring from heed-
lets, though well-intentioned, democratic invasion. An
expectation that the original movers of a revolution will
be suffered to conduct it to a conclusion, is pretty
nearly hopeless. The agitation brings all torts of wild
Khemert into play, and ono party after another it re-
morselessly trampled down in the contest.

On this subject, which cannot bo considered with too
much calmness, Alison hat the following obiervations;
he it referring to the consequences of the French Revo-
lution : — ' Upon the occurrence of a revolution, the
working-classes are the first to suffer, becaute they have
no ttock to maintain themselves during a period of
adversity, and beiug wholly dependent on the daily
wages of labour, are the earliest victims of the catas-
trophe which has interrupted it. It it this immediate
effect of a revolution, in spreading misery through the
labouring poor, which in the general ciisc renders it»
inarch irresistible, when not arrested in tl utset bv a
firm combination of all the holders of piv.'perty, and
precipitates society into a scries of coiivul«.>.>ii<i. «^>lu
which it can hardly emerge without the <le»triiK-tir»n <rf
the existing generation. The shock giv«iu to cr«>iit,
the stoppage to speculation, the cuiilriu:tic)n to expen-
diture, is so cxcetyivc, that the lower orders are iiiiiiie-
diately involved in distress; and the same causes which
increase their discontent, and augment their dispo!<itliin
to revolt, disable government, by the rapid fall of the
revenue, either from admiiiiatoring relief or exerting
force. The consequence is. that freah inturrectinns take
place ; more extravagant and levelling doctrines be-
come popular ; a lower but more energetic class rises to
the head of affairs ; desperate measures <.tf ftiinnce are
adopted — the public expenditure '» increa.sod, while
the national income is diminishei' uid, alter a suc-
cession of vain attempts to avoid tbe catastrophe, na-
tional bankniptcy takes place, and the accumulations
of ages are swept off in a general public and private

insolvency.' lletidet an utter annihilation of private
rcwiurcat, the revolution In France led to the judicial
murder or inaitacre of upwards of a million of the inha-
bitanti; the bulk of thoie dettruy«<l bviiig of the lower
and middle claties, notwithitandiiig that fntiii theiis
rankt (tome of the judgei had boon criminals in tlio
gallcyb) the tribunals and attembliei were coinnote<l.
The French revolution of IH4II, though let* bloody,
led, a* ii well known, to the prottration of trade, tUu
ruin of many familiet, and, in general, great iuH'uring,

4 Cunoludlni Ittmarka

In contldering the nature and tiippoted Influence
of different forma of governmunt, of which iliu pr»-
coding notices attiird an example, it it important to
guaruourtolvei againtt the too common error of mlt-
taking namoa for thingt. A detpotitm has been
datci'iliod at the government of an Irratpontibla In-
dividual ; and a republic at a government formed by
the concurrence ot tho whole people. We Should,
however, be liable to commit an error, (lid we nt once
ruth to the conclusion, that a despotism was invari-
ably, and in itt nature, tyrannical ; and that a re-
public waa as certain to bo in every instance tole-
rant and commendable. It may happen that a des-
potism it really the niott liberal and tatitfactory of the
two, Thit will occur when the detpot it an intelligent
and benevolent man. Inttoad of tormenting hit sub-
jects, he will take a pleasure in teeing them happy and
Iirosperoua; while by a tieeplett and undistractod vlgi-
ance, ho will conduct tho government with a degree
of iirinnesa and efflciency not to be equalled by a
miaccUaneoutly-coinpoted body. Such a beneficent
government as this la said to bo pakrnal; the sove-
reign acting as if he were tho father and guardian of
his people. Could it be possible to secure a conti-
nuance of sovereigns of this character, wo might almost
arrive at the conviction that detpotisms were the best
forms of government ; but unfortunately there is no
security on this score; an evil may follow a well-dis-
posed ruler, and suddenly the nation may be thrown
into confusion. On this account it should be the object
of detpotiamt of the paternal character to prepare the
(loople for the degree of telf-govemment incidental to
a conititutional monarchy ; and having done to, to
grant a conatitution which will insure good government
on a permanent batis.

That republics may bo liberal and tolerant only in
name, wo nave too many examples in history. Not to
go farther back than tho French Revolution of 17U9-93,
what despotism ever equalled, or came within many
degrees of, the republican Convention, which for years
oppressed an<l deluged France in blood ! Not evon the
t yranny of Neru or Caligula could be coinjiared to the
disregard of all public and private rights manifested
by tliut iniquitouH and popularly -constituted body.
The weak ))oint in all republics is, that the most noiiy
and forward, wb.> are usually the most ignorant, gain
the aiicendancv and, under colour of constitutional
privilege, tyraiiinise over tho more quietly disposed and
intelligent. This is exemplifled to a considerable ex-
tent in the I'nited States of America, and on a smaller
scale in many popularly-constitutcci bodiet in Great
IVitain. Among these bodies, a handful of noisy
demogugues is often observed to carry measuroa by the
mere force of clamour; and as the measures so carried
are publicly announced as the doings of the whole
body, it actually happens that men, under the shelter
of an usociation, may bo exempt from responsibility,
aiiU >inmit the most tyrannical actions. In the pres-
byters meetings of tho Scottish church, mcasuro' are
fr(«i|iieiitly carrie<l by this means which no bishop oi his
own responsibility would dare to enjoin. A republican
government, therefore, with all the semblance of a
popular constitution, may prove far more unscrupulous
than the most stern despotism ever framed. All this
we mention, in order to put people on thetr guard
against the illusions of a name. I^t it be rememl>«red
that goveniui..nt is a complex umchiac, fultilling a

CONSTITUTION OF SOCIETY-aOVBRNMENT.

will* vni'Ioty of |)ur|inieri, •ml thnt It li to ha Judged of
lull from the prcclto iiuturu of it« coiiitructioii, thiui
thu i|uiility of the work it |ierfortiii. Another coiiclu-
■ioii wu nrrivu iit U- Thut uood )tovflriiinciit, »lthou/<h
it curtaitily protiiotea tho civitiautioii of a country, ii
niueh more iti ci)iiier)iioiiro thmi it* cauie; and thnt
attuiitiou to tbv coiiiiuct and cuiiititutioii of govorti-
iiiuiit, although a duty of tho citi/.viii ii only oiio of
uiatiy pubiio dutivi not leu iiuportant and iiecviiary
botii to the guiioral wellheing of lociety and tho hap-
ptuea* of thu individual, ^

(lOTKnNMK.NT ADMINIHTIUTIOJI.

Whatever be tlie form ,f govertimout, il require* to
be vuiiducted liva act of functioiiariei capable of KU|iur-
intending the diU'eri'Mt branuhui of thu public ivrvicu.
The chief otnuiali at the heail of attain, and who act ai
the cabinet council of the loveroigti, are uaually ityled
miniiiem, a word aigiiifving aorvanta; and collectively
they are called tho minintry. Tho miiiiatry are ap-
pointed by tho aovureiun, and in conatitutional govern-
monta take on themaulvua the entire reaponaibiiity of
all acta of the crown. Thu llritiah miniatry, which ia
cunatructed on no broiul principle, but merely n reault
of occasional additions or special circumatancei, is as
followa:— I. Firat Lortl of the Treaaury; 'J. Lord High
Chancellor; 3. Chancellor of the Exchequer; 4. Secre-
tary of .State for Foreign Aifaira; .5. Secro'.arv of Stote
for the Colonial Department; (i. Secretary of State for
the liome Department; 7. Preaidont of the Council; II,
Lord I'rivy Seal; 9. Firat Iiord of the Admiraltv; 10.
President of the Doard of Control; II. Chancellor of
the Duchy of Lancaater; 12. First (/Ommiasioner of
Land Revenue; 13, Secretary at War; 14. Commander-
in-Chief. Such, in genor<kl, compose the cabinet; but
there are nearly twenty other ministers — as Poatmaster-
(Jenural; Lord Chamberlain; President of the Hoard of
Trade, kc. ; and occasionally several of these are in-
cluded in the cabinet, while one or two of those above
8|>eriiied are excluded. There is, in short, no dis-
tinctly-settled ministry in England. The whole affair
ia a matter of arrangement at each change of ministry.

The Secretary of Statu for the llomu Department
may be said to stand at the head of the executive as
far as the internal ail'airs of the country are concerned,
The appointment of judges, sheriff's, and other function-
aries la in his hands, Mili(tM\ aHi< rs come under the
jurisdiction of the Srii' .»rj at \\ nr and Commander-
in-Chief, Tho royal «<«>> is similarlv regulated by tho
First Lord of thi; Vdimralty, and other members com-
posing his council. U <lio matter of the church, edu-
cation, and soMM oiiliMr ihiiigg, there is no diatinct
luiuistcrial ta^mmffimmxt. The finances come under
the cognisaMc* Mid. responsibility of tho Chancellor of
the Exch«()i«ier.

For the sikke of local administration, the country is
divided into couuticn, divisions anciently under the
charge of earls or counts, but now committed to sheriff's
and other officers. The sheriff, however, is a functionary
of old standing. The title is derived from thire and
reeve — the reeve of the shire. Ueeve is an old title for
an officer of justice inferior in rank to an alderman,
and is derived from the Anglo-Saxon term gerefa. In
Sctlarid, the sheriff^ of a county is a judge ordinary of
his bounds, besides being an executor of writs issuing
from the crown. Towns possessing burgal privileges
are exempted from the administration of sheriffs, and
are goverued by town - councils, including a burgh
magistracy — such councils being annually elected by
the ten-pound parliamentary voters or qualified inha-
bitants. The chief magistrate of » town in England
is entitled Mayor, in Scotland Provost. In the prin-
cipal cities only the prefix Lord is added. In towns,
and also in the rural districts, there is a miscellaneous
magistracy, styled Justiee*-of-peace, who are nominated
by the crown, and who possess a certain jurisdiction in
civil and criminal matters.

When an administration is radiated by a gradation
of offioc, from the head fuuctiouaries dowuwards, it in

aaid to be a eenlrnUttd aovtrnment ; for evorythlnn
(^■litres in the cliiuf authority. The llritiah is tliu least
coiitrul of any govuniment in Europe, as it It'nvci niucli
of thu aiiboruinato adminiatralion to authorities popu-
larly ohoacn. In some respi-cta thia is advaiitiiguoiia,
but ill iithura it is ilutrinioiital to thu general welfari' :
ill certain towiia, for example, tho popularly-eloclcd
authorities aru i|iiite uiiqualilled fur their duties, and
•yat«iiiaticnlly oppoau iniprovemcnta irhich it ought to
be their duty to eiiuoiirago.

Tli>> French, with leas civil liberty than the English,
enjoy n aystem of adiiiiiiiatration the most perfect in
the world; it poaaoaaca aoiiie popular olemeiita, but ia
thoroughly central. Tho miniatry, uh uxiating uniler
tho monarchical regime, conaiated of I. Tho Miiiiator
of the Interior ; 'i. Miniater of Finance ; 3. Kovpcr of
the .Seala and Minister of .luatice; 4. Minister of I'ublio
Instruction and Ecclesiastical Afl'iiirs ; A. Minister of
Commerce and Public Worka; (i. Trade and Agricul-
ture; 7. Miniater of Marine aii<l tho Coloiiiua; U. Minia-
ter of War ; ii. Miniater of Foreign Aflairs. Eacli of
these is at the head of n department which is rami-
fied over the whole kingdom and dependencies. From
tho Minister of tho Interior ilowii to u justice of
peace there is an exact grailation, and through the
whole .. channel of intelligence ia kept up. The pre-
fects and sub-prefects of duitartments, tho mayors, &c.
are all in direct communication with their great chief
in Paris, In England, the Secretary of State may
have no knowledge of a remote magistrate; he probably
has a difficulty in diacovering hia name; but in France,
every functionary is known to tho central government,
and amenable to challenge, Uue advantage of this is,
that the most exact body of information on any local
subject can bo at all times procured, without resorting
to tho clumsy and expensive expedient of appointing
commissions. In France, also, the ]ioople enjoy tho
great advantage of a diatinct and uniform body of laws,
administered by a series of courts of precisely the samu
nature all over the country.

Dlplomaoy *■ *

Is ill all countries a separate branch of administra-
tion, and is that which relates to intercourse with
foreign powers. The persons deputed to act as foreign
ministers aro of several classes. Those of the highest
class, called ambassadors, are not merely the agonts of
their governments, but represent their sovereign per-
sonally, and receive honours and enjoy privileges ac-
cordingly. The second class are envoys extraordinary
and ministers plenipotentiary, and charges itaffairu,
A third class are called residents; and next to thein arc
consuls. Consuls, however, are confined in their dutie-i
to commercial affairs, and conduct no correspondence
in relation to state policy; yet, along with the whole
ambassadorial class, they aro expected to succour all
subjects of the power which they represent, and facili-
tate their journey as to passports, &c.

' Ambassadors (to quote from tho * Conversations
Lexicon'), and even ministers plenipotentiary, have
young gentlemen with them called attacMs, who have
no particular charge, but merely this title, to connect
them with the legation, and to give them thus admis-
sion into the highest society. Sometimes they are sons
of noble families, who are preparing themselves for
diplomatic offices, but think it beneath their dignity to
accept an appointment as secretary of legation. The
suit of ambassadors always includes more individuals
than the business of the embassy requires, a certain
degree of pomp being considered necessary. An am-
bassador has generally three, always two secretaries
of legation ; other ministers often but one, A foreign
minister receives letters of credence from his court,
which, after having delivered an attested copy of it to
the Secretary of State, he gives himself to the monarch,
or head of the government — if he is an ambassador, in
a public audience; if not, in a private audience. After
the reception of the credentials, the minister is said to
be acknowledged. In some countries he puts the arms

CHAMBBBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

of his nation or sovereign on hia mansion. After his
credentials have been received, he makes formal visits
to the other ambassadors, to be recognised by them as
such. From the moment that a minister enters the
territory of the sovereign to whom he is sent, his person
is held sacred and inviolable, and he acquires impor-
tant privileges. To these belongs, first of all, his free-
dom from territorial restrictions; that is, he is not re-
garded as an inhabitant of the country; but his person,
suite, house, equipage, &c. are considered as never
having left the country to which he belongs, and bs
being without the jurisdiction of that in which he
actually resides. From this follows the freedom of
foreign ministers from the civil and criminal law; and
the same applies to their suite; and all property be-
longing to him as minister is free from all taxes, &c.
No common police-officer, tax-gatherer, or other public
servant can enter his hotel and make inquisition, as
in the house of a private citizen. One of the especial
privileges of ambassadors is that of worshipping ac-
cording to the forms of their owu religion in countries
where their religion is not tolerated. A minister often
voluntarily leaves a court, without being recalled, when
he thinks he suffers personal injuries, contrary to the
laws of nations. There are cases, however, in which a
minister is compelled to leave a court, when it is termed
a removal. In general, an embassy is considered as
ended from the moment when the minister shows his
letters of recall, or receives his passports fur his journey
home. When these are furnished him, he must leave
the country; but his person remains inviolable even in
case of war, and he is allowed to retire unmolested.
The same inviolability of person is enjoyed in the other
Europetti states, although only in time of peace, by
couriers and expresses, as also by persons who, without
any public character as envoys, are intrusted by their
governments with the transaction of atiiiirs of impor-
tance, and requiring secrecy and despatch; but these are
not allowed to assume the state of a minister, and, in
their relations to other citizens, are regarded as private
persons merely.'

Forces.

Every government employs force in the execution of
its orders, or in defence of its rights. This force is in
two departments, civil and military. The civil force
is comprehended in constables and other functionaries
usually employed in the execution of legal objects,
in the maintenance of public peace, and in the enforce-
ment of municipal regulations. Military force is quite
a different thing: it is an organisation of men armed
with weapons capable of inflicting wounds and death.
In forces of this latter kind are included an army
and a navy. Regularly -formed armies are of great
antiquity. All nations, from the beginning of the
world, appear to have required, or at all events used,
military forces ; in other words, they maintained and
defended themselves by violence, and by violence they
conquered each other. Hence war, or a period of fight-
ing, may be said to have had an almost unbroken
existence from the earliest dawn of history.

In the present day, with all its enlightenment, every
civilised community less or more feels itself obliged to
maintain an army. In some countries the regular or
standing array is aided by an additional force, in the
form of a militia or national guard, which is an armed
citizenship. A regular army embraces three depart-
ments — infantry, or foot soldiers, cavalry, or horse sol-
diers, and artillery, or ordnance. Along with a royal
navy — men fighting in ships — the cost of the military
array in the United Kingdom is about £18,000,000 an-
nually, and occupies the services of nearly .'100,000 men.
How far this enormous force could be reduced, consist-
ently with the preservation of the empire in all its
parts, is oiie of the most important questions of the
day. The army is governed by rigorous laws of its
own, so as to maintain high military discipline, and
bring the whole body into an obedience resembling that
of a niachiue. An army is immediately governed by

a commander-in-chief, generals of division, and subor'
dinate officers. A regiment, which may consist of 1000
men, is under the charge of a colonel and lieutenant-
colonel; next in subordination is a major, a captain,
a lieutenant, and ensign. Beneath are the non-com-
missioned officers, including sergeants and corporals.
Every regiment is dressed in a particular uniform; and
several of them differ also in the style and weight of
their accoutrements. In taking the field against an
enemy, an army almost always requires to consist of
a due proportion of foot, horse, and artillery; for each
assists the other. The general use of the cavalry is to
dash in and cut up the parts of a regiment already
broken and dismayed by the fire of artillery. The
royal navy consists of vessels of various sizes and
construction, equipped and commanded as already
explained under Maritime Conveyance, in Volume 1.
In conclusion, it may be remarked that in modern
warfare the object is less to kill than disperse and
terrify into subjection ; and therefore, among civilised
nations, mercy is always shown when asked.

HERALDRY-RANKS-TITLES.

Heraldry is the science, so called, of figurative repre-
sentations, designed as emblematic of rank and honour-
able achievements. The origin of the word herald is
uncertain; the most plausible conjecture is, that it is
from the German heer, an army, and aid, a servant —
the servant or messenger of an army. This derivation
would at least pretty well agree with the nature of the
office of herald, which is that of messenger, or envoy, or
crier, of a royal personage.

Among the nations of antiquity, it was customary
for armies to be distinguished by particular standards,
and warriors by emblematic devices on their shields.
This was a rudimentary kind of heraldry. The cul-
tivation of such devices, however, did not attain a
settled and regular form, or rise to the dignity of a
science, till the ages which succeeded to the dismemberr
ment of the Roman Empire. Europe was now intruded
on, and taken possession of, by conquering hordes, led
by military chieftains. This was the commencement
of the feudal system. Each leader or king gave por-
tions of the conquered lands to his captains or nobles,
on condition that they should support him in war.
These nobles, again, imparted lesser shares of the lands
on the like condition; and thus, down and down, the
whole of society consisted of inilitarv retainers, depend-
ing ultimately on the sovereign, who was deemed the
great fountain of honour, the source of all authority
and distinction. In France, Germany, Italy, England,
Scotland, and some other countries, the same kind of
feudal tenure prevailed.

Feudal usages led to heraldry. Everywhere there
was fighting. Armies required standards; and knights
assumed devices emblematic of their achievements.
Tlie parties who regulated these insignia were the royal
heralds ; and hence the term heraldry. As heralds
travelled from country to oount"y with armies, or with
the kings their masters, they gradually fonned a fra-
ternity, who took pride in fixing an exact and uniform
code of emblems in reference to particular circum-
stances. As feudalism advanced, and became refined,
so did heraldry; and it may be said to have attained
its highest glories among the Anglo-Normans shortly
after the Conquest.

All the devices of heraldry bear a reference to
weapons of war, or arms; and as the shield was the
subject of emblazonment in actual combat, so is it the
chief object of heraldic illustration. A complete set of
devices is called a coat of arms, which we shall describe,
commencing with the shield.

A shield, in heraldry, is called an escutcheon (Lat.
soutum), which serves as a field whereon to portray the
symbolic charges or bearings. The dignity cf these
charges is indicated by the situation in which they
are placed. As the head of a man is supposed to bo
more dignified than his feet, so is the upper central

HERALDST-BANKS-TITLES.

in, and 8ubor<
onBist of 1000
d lieutenant-
Dr, a captain,
the non-com-
ind corporals,
uniform; and
itnd weight of
td against an

to consist of
lery; for each

cavalry is to
ment already
■tilleiy. The
lus sizes and
1 as already
in Volume I,
%t in modern
disperse and
long civilised
id.

LES.

Tirative repre-
k and honour-
rord herald is
) is, that it is
/, a servant —
his derivation
nature of the
r, or envoy, or

rag customary
lar standards,
their shields,
ry. The cul-
uot attain a
i dignity of a
16 dismemberT
now intruded
ig hordes, led
)mraencement
Ling gave por-
bina or nobles,

him in war.
s of the lands
nd down, the
iners, depend-
i deemed the

all authority
aly, England,
same kind of

jwherc there
; and knights
achievements,
were the royal
As heralds
mies, or with
onned a fra-
and uniform
nilar circuni-
came refined,
lave attained
mans shortly

itcheon (Lat.

jjortray the

ity (f these

which they

ipposed to bo

ipper centra}

part of a shield moro dignified than the parts beneath.
Heralds distinguish nine points in escutcheons, differ-
ing in honour. The letters in the accompanying figure
show th« situations of these points. A
is called the middle chief; B, dexter ^ S C
chief; C, sinister chief; D, honour
point; £, fess point; F, nombrill point;
0, base point; H, dexter base; I, sinis-
ter base. These, and the greater num-
ber oi heraldic terms which follow, are
from the Norman-French language. Tincluret are the
next species of distinctions. Tinctures signify the
colours of shields. These colours, however, include
metals and furs. Under this head is Qold called Or;
and Silver called Argent; Red called Ouks; Blue,
Aiure; Black, Sable; Green, Vert; and Purple, Pur-
pre ; Ermine and Vair are the furs. Each of these
tinctures (in literature) is signified by a peculiar mark-
ing on the shield, or, as in the case of argent, by being
left blank. A gradation of dignity from or down to
vair is imported by the respective tinctures. The fol-
lowing escutcheons represent the distinctive markings
of the principal or prime tinctures : —

Sable.

Ermine.

: A A Ail

mma(

Vair.

Honourable Ordinaries are the next kind of markings
on shields. They i-esemble belts drawn across, or other
forms projected on the escutcheons; and are called the
chief, the pale, the bend, the bend sinister, the chevron,
the piU, the cross, and the saltkr. We present a figure
of the bend — which extends from the dexter chief to
the sinister base, of the chevron, and of the cross i —

K^ bjD

Bend.

Chevron.

Cross.

Next come the partitions. These are single lines
dividing the escutcheon in a variety of
ways, each, like everything else, indi-
cative of a quality in the bearer. By
these lines the escutcheon is said to be
party pet' pale, per bend, per fess, per
chevron, per pile, per cross, or per sal-
tier. The annexed figure imports party
per pale. A similar line horizontally across the centre
indicates party per fess.

There are likewise angular lines like the teeth of a
saw, :vnd curved and notched lines,
each with its distinct name, bs em-
battled, indented, enarched, engrailed, in-
vected, wavy, nebiUy, dancetle, raguled,
dove-tailed, radiant, &c. The accom-
panying figure represents party per bend
embattled.

Lesser or lub-ordinaries consist of double or triple
straight lines, denominated bendlets, pallets, bars, and
chevroneh. Another kind of markings in the escutcheon
are lozenees, chequered crossings, &c.
Next we nave combinations of the pre-
ceding figures, one surmounting or
blended with the other. Such combi-
nations usually refer to a union of fa-
mily or national emblems. The union-
jack or ensign of the United Kingdom
is an example. For England it is argent, or cross
gules; for Scotland, azure, or saltier argent; and for
Ireland, argent, or saltier gules. Heralds describe or
emblazon the combinations thus : — ' Azure, the crosses
salt/ier of St Andrew and St Patrick quarterly per
saltier, counterchanged argent and gules ; the latter
fimbrated of the second ; surmounted by the cross of
St George of the Third, fimbrated as the saltier.'

The next step in heraMry is putting animals, or
parts of animals, on esuutcheuns, in order to convey an
allegorical meaning. The attitudes of the animals also
form distinct significations. When a lion is rearing
on its hind-legs with its face in profile, it is said to
be rampant. If the face is turned frontways, it is
denominated guardant; if the head be turned back-
wards, it is reguardant. When the animal is walking,
it is said to be passant ; but if the face be frontways,
it is denominated passant yuardant. The lion borne
in the arms of Scotland is thus emblazoned : — ' Or, a
lion rampant gules;' that is, a red lion rearing on a
golden shield,

' The ruddy lion rampt in gold.'

In the royal arms of England are seen ' gules, threa
lions passant guardant in pale,' When part of stn i:ni-
mal is represented as cut ofi^ straight, it is said to be
couped ; if seemingly torn off, it is erased. When oit
animal is represented as standing and looking in front,
it is said to be at gaze ; if the animal
is represented in its natural colour, it
is described as proper. A stag with
horns is said to be attired. An eagle
whose wings and legs are spread oat,
is said to be displayed. Salmon re-
presented swimming are described as
naiant. A tree torn up by the roots is eradicated. Wild
men, fabulous animals, hands, legs, flowers, heavenly
bodies, shells, daggers, tears, castles, ships, anchors,
implements of various kinds, crosses of all imaginable
shapes, all form emblems in heraldry, each with its
distinctive appellation and meaning.

Over the shield, in heraldry, a mantle, or species of
drapery, in wavy folds, is usually thrown. This is a
decoration, having reference to the mantle of a knight
in the field of battle : the more curled and contorted
that the decoration appears, so is it implied that the
mantle was torn and mutilated in the strife of arms.
Above the mantle is depleted the crest. Crests were
originally cognisances worn on the top of the helmet,
in order to distinguish a warrior in the confusion of a
battle. Sprigs of certain plants, feathers, representa-
tions of birds, heads, and other parts of animals, &c,
were used as crests. The crest of the Earls of Warwick
was a muzzled and chained bear, holding a ragged stafti
still well known. In heraldry, the figure forming the
crest usually rests on a wreath, or, more properly, a
portion of wliat originally was a wreath. Wreaths of
twisted ribbon, laurel, &c, were bestowed, by ladies on
favourite knights, and borne by them on their helmets;
hence the emblematic wreatli in heraldry.

Figures of coronets are employed to support the crests
of nuble families. The coronets differ in shape and iu
richness of decoration, according to the quality of the
bearer. The crown of a soverei^tn, with its arches cen-
tering in a point at the top, is well known. The coronet
of a duke has a row of oak leaves in gold round the fillet
or band; that of a marquis has pearls placed alter-
nately with the leaves; that of an earl has points raised
between the leaves, with pearls ou the top of the points;

CHAMBEBS'S lOTORMATIOlf FOR THE PEOPLE.

tbat of a HMWrnt has ouly pearU cloiely «t; w^J^at
of a baiMi kM a lesser number of pearls, with wider
intervals li«Wnen. , ^^ ,

It was the pmctice at tournament* for the mms Md
esquires of kiigLts to guard their ihields. «dlbr thu
purpoN th«T dressed theraseWes m »»ntartic maniiw—
M eiSnt, wd other animals. &c. From this origwatwl
theeurtom in heraldry of giving twpp«rter$iomMi-
cheout. The supporters of the royal wms of SooUmhI
are two unicorns; those of the Bntiah royal ami are a
lion and a unicorn. Supporters an borne only by
royal or noble houses. Evei-y coat of arms has a rno«o
Inicribed on a roll of ribbon. Mettoes originated in
the war-cfin of knights, also in exclatnations made on
particular aoeasic is. They are for the most part in
Latin or FMncb. The motto for the British royal arms
it ' Dwa *lliio» Droit'—' Ood and my right.'

A hatcklMnt is a species of funeral escutcheon, sus-
pended taft'ont of a house to mark the decease of one
of its inAHktes. These escutcheons are always drawn
up with BeraUlic precision, so as to indicate, by the
form and accompaniments of the field and the colour
of the around of the hatchment, the sex, position, and
xank of the deceased. Thus, if the death be of a male,
the rifkt side of the board is painted black; if of a
femaUrthe left — and w on.

In lM>den> times, in England, coats of arms are
graatod only by the eovercign, through the agency of
the Herald's Colle)i^; in Scotland, by the Lord Lyon,
king-at-arms, or hia officers: an(* in either case, only
on cause shown, and on payment of a fee. Latterly,
the science hni so Mucft degenerated in the hands of
the above functionwies, that little discrimination is
oxereised in dispoMing either crests or escutcheons;
what is worse, figurea of ordinary objects are sometimes
allowed to be displayed, having reference to the pro-
fession of the bearer. This is a perversion of heraldry,
which is the science of emblems, not the blazonry of
vulgar representations. In Britain, the use uf armorial
bearings in any form ronders the wearer liable to a
special annual taxation.

Ranks— Titles.

In Great Britain, society is composed of three estates,
called the three estates of the realm — l,The sovereign;
2, The nobility or peerage; 3, The commons or people.
This division, which originated under feudalism, gives
a character to British manners and institutions, and
admits of a considerable variety in rank and title.

To the sovereign, whether king or queen, is given the
title of Mt^esty — as, Ilis Majesty the King. This epi-
thet is derived from the ancient Romans, by whbVn it was
applied first to the whole people in a collective sense,
and afterwards to the consuls and dictators. It was
not used in modem Europe till the treaty of Cambray,
1526, when it was given to the Emperor Charles V.
Since that period, it has been applied to nearly all
Emopean monarchs. By the pope, the title of Catholic
Majtttjt was given to the king of Spain ; Apostolic Ma-
jetty to the king of Hungary; Mott C/iriilian Afqjtsty to
the king of France; and Most Fait/^ftd Majesty to the
king of Portugal. Previous to the adoption of the term
Majesty in England, the title of Highnett, or His Grace,
was taken by the monarchs. To princes is now usually
given the title of Highness, or Royal Highness.

The nobility conuists of five degrees — dukes, mar-
<)uises, earls, viscounts, and barons. The title of duke
is from the Latin dux, a leader, and signifies the leader
of an army. It is as ancient as the early German tribes
previous to Charlemagne. Of old, dukes were set over
provinces or districts to regulate the military afl^irs,
OS lieutenants of the sovereign. Under the Oennan
empire, the dignity and power of the dukes became
heieditary. In England, the first hereditary duke was
the Black Prince, created by his father Edward III.,
in 1336. The rank and title of duke hate long since
been disconnected with office. To dukes is now given
the title of Hi* Grace.

Marquis is the next lowest rank. The title of mar*
48

quis, equivalent to margrave in Germany, was origi-
nally given to those officers whose dut^ it was to pro-
tect the firontiers or marches of the kingdom. It has
long been only honorary. To marquises is given the
title of Most Noble. Karl is the next degree ot nobility.
The title is from the old Saxon word elhel, or ear-etkel,
(gei.'^le and noble), abbreviated to ear-el or earl. It
was the duty of an earl to exercise civil, and also
military jurisdiction over the district committed to his
charge; and as count is an equivalent term for earl,
the districts superintended by the earls carie to be
called couiUiM. To an earl is given the title of Right
Honourable, and he is addressed as His Lordship. Vis-
counts were the earl's deputies — inec comes in Latin.
To a viscount is also given the title ot Right Honourable,
and he is addressed as His Lordship. The office of earls
and viscounts has long since passisd into the hands of
lord lieutenants and snerifls.

Barons occupy the lowest degree of rank among the
nobility. The title of baron implies manly power, and
after the Norman Conquest, was given to possessors of
domains held of the sovereignty by feudal tenure:
these domains were called baronies. A baron has the
title of Right Honourable, and he is usually spoken of
as a Lord, The dignity of baroii or lord is now given
irrespective of territorial holdings.

Among the commons of the United Kingdom are
likewise degrees of rank — baronets, knights, esquires,
and the people at large. The title of baronet was
created by James I. in 1611; the design of the king
having been to institute an inferior order of nobility.
No gentleman was admitted to the rank of baronet
without becoming bound to maintain ' thirty foot
soldiers in Ireland for the space of three years, after
the rate of eightpence sterling of money of England by
the day.' It was by this assistance that James was
able to effect the plantation of Ulster with English
and Scotch settlers. A similar order of baronets was
projected by James for Scotland, called the Nova Scotia
baronets; his design being, to reclaim the province of
Nova Scotia with the money they paid for toe dignity.
This order of baronets, however, was not instituted till
1625 by Charles I. Baronets, as in the case of the
nobility, are now created at the pleasure of the sove-
reign, and their rank is hereditary. There are. never-
theless, differences in the terms in which these honours
are held; sometimes the (uitent creating a nobleman
or baronet confines the honours to heirs male direct,
and sometimes allows their transmission to heirs iu
collateral brunches, through heirs female. A baronet
places the prefix of sir to his name; his wife is legally
styled Dame, but in ordinary speech she is called Lady.

Knighthood was a military distinction of the middle
ages, conferred only on )>erson8 of honour, truth, and
fidelity. Afterwards, difi'erent degrees of knighthood
were created. In the present day, knighthood is an
honour bestowed on civilians or others, in compliment,
as is understood, for some distinguished service in lite-
rature, arts, or anus. It is not hereditary, A knight
has the prefix of ^ir to his name. The title of esquire
was originally given to the shield-bearers of knights —
young candidates for the honour of knighthood. It is
now so generally assumed, as to have pretty nearly lost
all value as an honourable distinctive appellation.

Master, or its contraction Mr, is the title given by
courtesy to all i>er8on8 whatsoever of an ordinary staiid-
ing. Master is from the French mattre, which is from
the Latin magisler. Mistress or Mrs is from the French
mailresse. Miss, applied to an unmarried woman, is
only a contraction of mistress, which used to be applied
to young unmarried women as late as the beginning of
the eighteenth ceiitury.

In England, with the advancement of intelligence,
wo may expect a gradual disuse of titles. At present,
however, they do not appear to be on the decline; and
what is more remarkable, there seems to be a strong
love of titles, and even of heraldic insignia, among the
citir.ens of the North American republic. How deeply
are such fancies imbedded in human nature 1

>rtn»ny, was origi-
ut^ it was to pro-
kingdom. It has
uises is given the
degree of nobility.
1 etiiel, or ear^hel,
ear-el or earl. It
se ciril, and also
I committed to his
ent term for earl,
earls vane to be
the title of Bight
fia Lordship. Vis-
it comes in Latin.
'Right ffoHourable,
The office of earls
into the hands of

if rank among the
manly power, and
in to poHsessors of
ly feudal tenure;
A baron has the
usually spoken of
lord is now given

ted Kingdom are

knights, esquires,

e of baronet was

esign of the king

order of nobility.

rank of baronet

tain ' thirty foot

three years, after

ley of England by

I that James was

iter with English

r of baronets wus

d the Nova Scotia

n the province of

d for the dignity,

aot instituted till

the case of the

«ure of the sove-

I'here are, never-

ich these honours

ting a nobleman

eirs male direct,

ision to heirs iu

lale. A baronet

is wife is legally

le is called Lady.

on of the middle

lour, truth, and

of knighthood

nighthood is an

in compliment,

service in lite-

tary. A knight

title of tsquire

irs of knights —

ighthood. It is

retty nearly lost

tppellation.

title given by

ordinary stand-

which is from

rom the French

Tied woman, is

d to be applied

lie beginning of

>f intelligence,
s. At present,
ic decline; and
to be a strong
ntft, among the
. IIow deepljr
urcl

HISTORY AND NATURE OF LAWS.

Law may be defined as a system of regulations adopted
in social communities for the general advantage, and
on that account binding upon all the individuals con-
stituting a community, tiuch regulations being abso-
lutely essential to the existence of a social state, we
may safely infer, that as soon as any portion of man-
kind advanced into that state, law began to exist. Its
origin, being thus early, is necessarily obscure: we know
extremely little of its history in any of the nations of
antiquity besides Greece and Itome.

1. 1 Grecian history we find more than one well-known
codt of laws; but so limited and simple was their ope-
rati'>n, and so little are they adapted to the wants of a
complicated state of society, that they are to be looked
upo!i rather as municipal regulations for the tem-
porary government of a small knot of men, than as
systems from which any additional hints are to be ob-
tained to aid modem jurisprudence. It does not appear
to have been in Greece — the source, as it was, of philo-
sophy, literature, and art — that useful laws, applicable
to the business of life, had their origin. The Phoenicians,
of whose history and institutions we unfortunately know
so little, seem to have been among the first to establish
a general system of mercantile law, which theirexten-
site commerce distributed abroad. To Rhodes, which
can scarcely be considered a province of Greece, we
owe the earliest regulations applicable to shipping.
The law of average, or that by which the loss occasioned
by throwing goods overboard to relieve a ship in dis-
1:. • ■'< 'aid proportionally on the whole property saved
^- I '.. important branch of the commercial code of
^i.r..U-th lations), had its origin iu that state, and is still
'.liO Rhodian law. There is the less importance,
however, in the inquiry into the laws of early nations,
since all of ancient law which continues to have any
force in civilised Europe, has come to us through one
channel — namely, the Roman law.

ROMAN LAW, AND THE SYSTEMS DERIVED FROM If.

Most European nations, being, as it were, the re-
moulded wrecks of the Roman Empire, have obtained
the basis of their laws from that source. The Roman
la^v is, therefore, by the common consent of Europe, deno-
minated The Civil Law. In Europe there was but one
other system at an early period, to combine with it.
This was The Fetidul Law, or that code of usages which
had sprung up in European nations before they re-
ceived the civil law. It is, after all, only in some
countries that the feudal law exists: in other cases, the
civil law has established a proportionate, and in some
a preponderating influence. In Holland and Germany,
the original purity of the principles of the civil law
have been preserved with such zealous core, that the
writings of the lawyers of those countries are quoted as
authorities on the law of Rome. In Spain, the system
has been grafted on the feudal law, and on some pecu-
liar customs derived from the Moors. In France, pre-
viously to the Revolution, the civil and the feudal law
were united, as in most other nations of Europe; and
in the Code Napoleon, to which we shall hereafter
more particularly advert, there are many regulations
from the jurisprudence of Rome allowed to exist, or
revived, while many of the feudal customs which were
formerly so prominent ai-e abolished. England distin-
guished herself from the other nations of Europe by
rejecting the civil law as authority, but many of her
institutions were derived from its spirit and practice.
* Vvith all its imperfections,' says Sir William Jones,
'it is a most valuable mine of judicial knowledge; it
gives law at this hour to the greatest part of Europe,
and though few English lawyers dare make such an
acknowledgment, it is the true source of nearly all our
No. ,54.

English laws that are not of a feudal origin.' In Scot-
land, the Roman law has always been a special subject
of study ; and though the number of native decisions,
the extent of statute-law, and the necessary adaptation
of the system to a state of society very different from
that in which Justinian promulgated his code, have
rendered references to this source comparatively un-
frequent, the civil law is still authority where the par-
ticular law of Scotland does not contradict it. It is a
special object of study by the legal profession, and ia
the subject on which the members of the bar are first
examined before they are admitted to practice. To
complete the general outline of the influence of this
system in modem Europe, it must be mentioned as the
source of the canon law, which was created into a
system by the Church of Rome, and still exists more
or less, either separately or incorporated with other
systems, in all countries where the papal authority was
acknowledged. The law of nations, or international
code, has been, by the common assent of civilised
nations, derived from the law of Rome.

Writers have divided the legislative sources from
which the laws of Rome spring into five. Among the
first of these is genevally classed the people, and the
laws sanctioned by them are techni( ;lly divided into
the Lex or Populiscitum, and the Ptet 'scitum ; the for-
mer including the acts of the whole p ople, the latter
those of the plebeians convened by their tribunes. It
would appear that, in the earlier periods of the monarchy,
the authority of all classes was in this description of
legislation tolerably equal. Servius '''ullius, however,
the sixth king, introduced the well-Known divisions
into centuries and classes, by which ninety-eight votes
were secured to the first class, while ninety-five only
were allotted to the remaining five, of which the lowest
and most numerous possessed onb one. The tribunes,
who were officers chosen for the istensible purpose of
protecting the people from the tyranny of the aristo-
cracy, were, by the exclusive end important power they
possessed, again the means of restorinc popular election.
They procured the assembling of '^'^a people by tribes,
in which their votes were given ind' vidually, and with-
out the necessity of a property qualification. All popu-
lar legislation, however, soon disappeared with the
authority of the emperors. Augustus, except in one
instance, found the popular assemblies profoundly
obedient, and under his successor they ceased to exist;
so that long before the Roman laws had become the
grand system of jurisprudence which they constituted
under the auspices of Justinian, the popular source of
legislation had been dried up.

The decrees of the senate {Scnatus consulta) are an-
other source of the Roman law. The legislative power
of this body seems to have grown out of its judicial,
which was at first its proper province. By the original
constitution, the people alone were understood to be
the makers of the laws, and their authority seems to
have been gradually engrossed by the senate, the inter-
ference of which, from having been confined to mere
advice and paternal ussisiance in legislation, gradually
extended itself to that of !.uukiiig laws. It was not till
the days of Tiberius that thsse decrees were publicly
promulgated a° I.vns; out ih', senate had by that time
lost its independent authnlty, and become merely au
instrument in the hands ii the emperor. The proceed-
ings of the senate were generally suggested by some
public officer, as a ii;inister of the crown now introduces
u bill into parliament, and a m^ority decided for past;,
ing or rejecting. Iu later times it became the practice
for the emperor .''o propose a new law, either by a mes-
sage or letter lain bofcve the senate, or by an oration
delivered; and as therr wus no opposiiion intended or

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

permitted, the legislative body became the mere regis-
trars of the monarch's wiJ!.

Another source of th i civil law is the constitutions
and rescripts of the empe.< rs. At what time they com-
menced the practice of making Iftws vrithout the nominal
concurrence either of the senate or tu9 people, is not
very distinctly known. A passage in the Pandects, the
authenticity of which, long doubted, has been con.'irmed
by late discoveries, states that the will of the emperor
is law, and that by a particular act, the people had con-
ferred upon him all their own power, which was thence-
forth absolutely tfl remain in his hands— one of those
transactions under the guise of which rulers are so fond
of concealing their lust of power, by representing as a
free gift that which no one can venture to refuse,
Hadrian is believf' i-i he the first emperor who exer-
cised the author: t a supreme legislator. The im-
perial laws were jjued in a variety of forms. Some-
times there was a new constitution springing from the
monarch's own creative mind — on another occasion he
would give his imperial judgment on some nice specu-
lative question of law dutifully submitted to his wisdom.
Many of the imperial laws, however, were the deciuions
of the monarch in particular cases, the spirit of which
was piously preserved by the lawyers of the aga, as the
best criterion for a general rule of action. In modern
times, we associate with despotism a horror of Inno-
vation, and a desire to leave all institutions, whether
expedient or hurtful, untouched. It was different in
imperial Rome. The emperors were never tired of
displaying the legislative product of their own genius,
or those which the prudent and courteous discoverers
did not coropet; with them for the merit of suggesting.
During four centuries, from Hadrian to Justinian, the
manufacturing of legislation was in almost constant
operation. Diocletian alone enacted 1200 new laws —
a number that would do no discredit to a moderately
long reign of a British monarch.

Edicts of the proetors are another, and not the least
important source of Roman jurisprudence. Of these
high magistrates there were different numbers at difie-
rent times; but the supreme authority vested in two,
one having jurisdiction over the city, the other over
the proviii'-c:. The pnctor held his office for a year;
and as a provision against bis adapting his judgments
to his own personal views, the Cornelian law obliged him
to issue a sort of proclamation at the commencement
of his magistracy, embodying the general principles to
which he should adhere in his judgments; and thus, at
the moment when he was least acquainted with the
duties of his office, he had to fix the plan on which he
w^ to execute them. The prtetor was not originally
Tested with legislative power — it arose in the ext-rcise
of his judicial authority. He was merely the inter-
preter of the laws; but when they seemed to him to be
Lard, or otherwise erroneous, he <lid not scruple to sus-
pend or alter their execution. The praetorian iaw has
htien compared to the equity system in Eiifrland — a dis-
tinct system of law. arising Mut of those instances in
which it was necessary to give relief from the strict
interpretation of the common law. The common law
had fixed a particular rule; aciiae would arise in which
its application would be very oppressive: the common
law judges, bound by their system, could give no relief;
but the chancellor took upon him to modify ihe evil,
and his dm-ision was followed in like cases. The system
of the pni tors was somewhat similar, with this diffe-
rence, that as they had no judges to compete with who
pursued n system of strict interjiretation, their ef,uity
aad rathiT a tendency to modify the common law than
to raise a rival structure. ' The secret or probable
wish of the dead..' says Oibbon, when illustrating the
pnetorian system, * was suffered to prevail over the
order of succession and the forms of testaments; and
the claimant, who was excluded in the character of
heir, accepted with equal pleasure from an indulgent
pni'tor the possession of the goods of his late kinsman
or benefactor. In the redress of private wrongs, com-
pensations and fines were aubttituted to the obsolete
1)0

rigour of the Twelve Tables; time and space were
annihilated by fanciful suppositions; and the plea of
youth, or fraud, or violence, annulled the obligation, or
excused tho performance of an inconvenient contract.'
With the expiry of his year of office, the edicts of the
pnctor ceased to be imperative; but they were still
inoked up to as precedents ; and when they became
venerable by long use, they were considered as part of
the fixed law of the land. By an enactment of the
Emperor Hadrian, called the * Perpetual Edict,' this
doubtful and fluctuating branch of the law — at least as
much of it as the emperor chot«> to sanction — received
what might be called the royal assent, and was incor-
porated with th3 other portions of the civil law as a
distinct branch of the system.

In almost every nation which has pasred gradually
from barbarism to civilisation, many Taws will be found
to have come into existence without the direct inter-
ference of any legislature, and from no better d^iined
origin than a habit on the part of the people of sub-
niitting to certain rules, or obeying tY". commands of
certain individuals; it is, indeed, generally in this
manner that legislatures have originated, A consider-
able portion of the Roman law was of this kind : it
arose in custom, was handed down by tradition and prac-
tice, and called consuetudinary law. It is a disputed
question, how far it was necessary that some compe-
tent authority should certify that the principle actually
was an established portion of the ancient customs of
the nation, before it could be B«f«ly acted upon as law.
It is a peculiarity of the civil, as distinguished from
the English jurisprudence, that, according to the for-
mer, a law may be tacitly abrogated by lo ig disuse.
In Eiig^nd, no law, however long forgotten, ceases to
exist till it be repealed by the legislature.

The last fountain of Roman jurisprudence which we
shall notice, is the Responia Prudentum — literally, the
answers of the wise men — the opinions of the sages of
the law. It is difficult to conceive a state of society in
which the opinions of legal writers, as to the interpre-
tation of the law, will not have an influence. If a case
occur in which the judge is uncertain as to the proper
application of soi. le enactment, where can ho find a more
suitable or a safer <,'uide than in the opinion of some
far-seeing lawyer, v. ho has anticipated the case without
knowing the parties, and who, consequently, cannot
have proceeded on a bias to one or tL^ other — a defect
of which the judge, if he be the first to interpret the
iaw, will be at least suspected 1 Even in England,
where interference with the doctrines of the common
law is so jealously opposed, the early commentators
are the only authority for its provisions; and there is
no doubt that they gave the hue of their own opinions
to the doctrines they laid down. In Rome, however,
where the profession of the law, instead of being a
trade, conferred a high rank in society, the opinions of
leading counsel had a much more extensive range.
They not only interpreted, but they could create law,
by suggesting how the decisions should proceed in
imaginary cases. At an earl} period, the relation of
lawyer and client was that of patron and dependant.
Patricians alone could act as lawyers, and the scirnce
was involved in riddles to which they only possessed
the key. Tho poor client was dependent on the good
will of his lordly jiatron for such protection from op-
pression, whether through the law or otherwise, as the
influence of the latter might enable him tu afiTord.
When population and transactions increased, and the
laws, insteail of a mystery, became a serious study,
which depended more on laborious application than
simple initiation, the profession was opened to plebeians.
It became not an unusual case, at a still more advanced
period, for the patron and lawver to be separated; the
former being chosen for his influence, the latter for
his skill. Tue forms which regulated the intercourse
between patron and client, however, still retained some
relics of their origin ; and it is a striking illustration of
the influence which Roman jurisprudence has exer-
ciseU over the human race, to find these still existing.

raSTORT OP LAWS.

To th!« day, it i8 against all etiquette to bargain with
a barrister for his work. The law gives him no claim
for remuneration, which it kindly views as unworthy
of the dignity of his profession ; and it is usual to pay
him beforehand for his legal assistance. On the other
hand, though he has been paid beforehand, he cannot
be compelled to perform any duty in return, for he is
presumed to assist the client from his own free good
will. In most other professions, it is the custom for
the person employed to feel under a sort of obligation
to the employer who has preferred him to others.
This principle is reversed at the bar ; for *he person
employed is the patron, and the employer tue client.

But to return to the legislation of *'.« sages of the
law. During the commonwealth, whoever, by his supe-
rior sagacity or knowledge, could obtain deference for
his opinions, might be said to be a manufacturer of
laws. Unde- the earlier emperors, the privilege of pro-
mulgating authoritative opinions wa? confined to a
limited number of lawyers, of equestrian rank, licensed
by the government; but the profession was againi^brown
open to the public by Hadrian. The most brilliant era
of legal wisdom commences within a short period of the
decline of the republic, and terminates with the reign
of Alexander Severus. Mucius Scaevola, the tutor of
Cicero, was one of its earliest ornaments; and it in-
cluded the celebrated jurisconsults Paul, Ulplan, Papi-
nian, Capito, and Labeo. The two last of these, who
lived in the age of Augustus, were the founders of the
two sects — the Proculians ond Sabinians — into which
the Roman lawyers were divided. The former advo-
cated the doctrine that the laws should be amended at
discretion, to meet circumstances as they occurred; the
latter maintained the theorv of their strict interpre-
tation, be its inexpediency in the particular instance
^hat it may. Capito, applying his doctrines to the
inroads which the emperors were gradually making in
the freedom of the republic, was a supporter of this
species of innovation, and his followers were enrolled
among the ready tools of despotism. Labeo sought to
support the aiicient freedom of the republic by an
adnerence to the letter of the old laws, and his sect
became the champions of what may be termed consti-
tutional freedom. The conflict is not unlike that which
at one time existed in Britain between Lord Mansfield
and Lord Camden; the former supporting, to a certain
degree, an equitable, the latter, in all cases, a strict
interpretation of the law.

H. 'ing now enumerated the principal sources of the
Kuman law, we may notice its reniarLable epochs. The
laiTS enacted during the reigns of the kings, although a
curious subject of inquiry among antiquaries, exercised
too little influence on the civil law, as handed down to
modem Kurope, to be of much practical importance.
During the administration of the decemvirs, the cele-
brated laws of the Twelve Tables were adopted. The
traditionary history connected with this code is, '' t
the Roman government, conscious of the want of a
prop*"" 'egal system, sent commissioners to Greece, who,
after jtudying the laws of that comparatively civilised
nation, produced the Twelve Tables for the acceptance
of the Romans. The tradition, like many others con-
nected with the Roman history of the period, has not
suflicient historical evidence to support it against its
natural improbability. These laws, of which specimens
are professed to be preserveu, are written in a language
so difl^srent from that of the classical writers of Rome,
thot they were to Cicero an object of much the same
curiosity as the old Scottish acts were to Bacon. Like
the first laws of other rude states, they are simple and
brief in their enactments. The bankruptcy system —
which has so sadly phocked several benevolent scholars,
that they have endeavoured t.. explain it as a merely
symbolical provision — is peculiarly sharp and effective.
It enacts that the insolvent debtor shall be cut in pieces,
and that his body shall b« distributed among bis credi-
tors. When law became a science openly studied, the
Twelve Tables became the subject of many comraen-
tariei. It was not, howerer, till the Romans had been

for some time degenerating, that those gre; t collections
of legislative wisdom which have come down to modem
times were commenced. The first attempt to construct
a code seems to have been the Perpetual Edict of
Hadrian, already alluded to. Two private individuals,
Oregorius and .lermogenes, appear to have collected
the imperial constitutions into a system, or code, of
which some fragmc its are still preserved. Nothing
whatever is known of the biography of these compilers:
it has not even been discovered in what reigns they re-
spectively lived, though their labours received high
commendation ^t the hands of Theodosius the Younger.
Under this emperor the celebrated Theodosian Code
was promulgated, in the year 438. The compilation of
this body of laws was committed to eight individuals,
who were allowed considerable latitude in explaining
and a.brideing, and even in supplying deficiencies. It
contains the legislative acts of sixteen emperors, from
the year 312 to 438, Fragments of this code have been
rescued from oblivion inch by inch, by modem scholars,
whose labours, it may safely be calculated, have
amounted to some twenty or thirty times more than
those of the original compilers. The celebrated Oode-
froy of Genera spent thirty years in the task; and
within the last thirty years the discovery of some fur-
ther fragments induced the celebrated Angelo Mai to
study the Roman law for the purpose of editing them.

We may now notice those great collections of the
legal wisdom of the Romans, to which the above may
be considered only preparatory. In 629, ten commis-
sioners, appointed by Justinian, prepared The Code or
Codex, as it is termed, from the collections previously
made, and the intermediate enactments. Soon after
its promulgation, the emperor issued several new con-
stitutions, and the whole were consolidated and reissued
in 534, This great task was superintended by the cele-
brated Tribonian, whose eminent learning and discri-
mination, allied with untiring industry, but stained by
the vices of corruption and partiality, have afforded a
fruitful theme of praise anc' oblo(iuy. This was by no
means Tribonian's only labour. In the year 530, he
was appointed the chief of a commission of sixteen,
whose duty it was to cull the choice and useful passages
from the authors of comments and opinions. The
various authorities, which, we are told, would have
mode several camels' loads, were thus reduced within
a compkss which, if it do look somewhat formidable to
the consulter, is still manageable. Such are the fifty
books which constitute the celebrated * Pandects,' or
'Digest' of the Roman law — a work without which
modem Europe would have known but little of the
subject. Along with Theophilus and Dorotheus, the
indefatigable commissioner was able to prepare, in con-
junction with this rreat digest of the law, an abridg-
ment or manual of its leading principles, which bears
the well-known name of ' The Institute,' This con-
densed and elegant little work was sanctioned by the
emperor in 533. It has become the subject of innu-
merable comments, and has afforded the model on
which the legal writers of most modern nations have
desired to prepare their treatises. Justinian continued,
during the remainder of his life, to pr'^Tr.ulgate new
laws; and thbac, collected together under the title of
' Novella,' or ' Novels,' form the remaining department
of the ' corpus juris,' or body of the civil law.

With Justinian we reach the climax of the Roman
law; and to trace Hs farther progress in the Empire
has been more a subject of curiosity to the antiquary
than of importance to the lawyer. Some fragments by
later commentators, chiefly in the Greek language, have
been disentombed by zealous searchers. The Roman
law was nominally respected by the northern con-
querors of Rome, Alanc, king of the Visigoths, in-
deed, caused a compendium to be prepared for the use
of his dominions, consisting chiefly of an abridgment of
the codes of Oregorius, Hermogenes, and Theodosius.
Towards the end of the ninth century, Basilius, empe-
ror of the East, issued a new code, intended to supersede
the labours of Tribonian, termea the ' Basilica,'

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

In the dark ages, however much cf the Roiuon law
way have remaiiieil in practice, it had died away in
literature, and was neither studied nor commented on.
At the taking of Constantinople in the fifteenth cen-
tury, only one copy of oae of the Justinian labours, the
Novelf, seems to have been discovered. It was long
believed, indeed, in the learned world, that from the
period of the Basilica to the twelfth century, the very
existence of the Roman law was among the things for-
gotten. The circumstances of its resuscitation wore
found in a traditional anecdote, that at the siege of
Araalphi in ]137, some Pisan peasants discovered a
complete copy of the Pandects among the plunder, the
melodious language, comprehensive philosophy, and
clear definitions of which, so charmed the readers of
that barbarous age, that its contents were immediately
devoured with avidity and p'opagated with zeal. In
Florence, a manuscript ' "'1 pre3er>'ed, said to be the
identical book with "hi' lis anecdote is connected,
taken at the siege of P.; 1^%. The essence of the
tradition has been di^pr. ^d uy late discoveries, which
show that the civil liw was kiiown previously to the
siege of Araalphi.

The real revival of the civil law is to be traced in the
history of the universities. Of these, Paris, Bologn;*,
and Leyden, took the lead in the department of juris-
prudence. Contemporary with, or nnmediately after
the siege of Amalphi, lectures were given on the Pan-
dects in the university of Oxford, by a teacher of the
name of Vacarius. For reasons which we shall have
to state whe.i we come to treat of the laws of £ngland,
the civil law, thus early commenced, never made much
progress in England. Nor, altbrnigh the civil law was so
prominent a subject of profess. ,nal study in Scotland,
has that part of the empire done much to elucidate
the science. Doth England and Scotland, indeed, have
produced writers on the civil law; but with one or two
exceptions, the British jurists are not among those
. names which become familiar to the readers on the
subject, from the frequent refevence made to them by
subsequent commentators. The earlier modem civi-
lians followed three oracles — Bartolus, Ualdus, and
Accursius, whose works, it is believed, the most enthu-
siastic admirer of the study would not now peruse, and
who probably retain their chief celebrity from having
been targets for the wit of Rabelais. In the seventeenth
century, moi-e elegant and philosophical commentators
followed, and the subject was pursued with zeal to the
middle of the following century. A prodigious number
of civil law books issued from the press during that
period ; and we have heard it asserted, that a complete
collection of all the books published on the civil and
canon law would make a library of two hundred thou-
sand volumes. The labours of Oodefroy alone are
sufficient to damp the ardour of a modem literary col-
lector; and there is perhaps no surer mode of compre-
hending what human patience and perseverance is
capable of, than the contemplation of a civil law
library. Holland has been profuse with great autho-
rities — Grotius, Matthosus, Schulting, Noodt, Voet,
and Huber, belonged to that country. Germany pro-
duced the philo80])hic jurist I'^ ffendorf, and Ileinec-
cius, whose elementary wor! -as the clearest and
most methodical of the comnu utaries — have been popu-
lar as class-books of civil law. Among modem in-
Testigators in this laborious science, the Germans have
taken the lead.

To give a general outline of the Roman law, would
he to describe the ooinniou principles of the majority
of the codes of civilised mankind. Although the pro-
gress of commerce and manufactures has introduced a
quantity of transactions— such, for instance, as bills of
ezchcjige — which the Roman lawgivers could never
have contemplated, yet their system is the foundation
of all the commercial laws of Europe — a circumstance
which has probably facilitated the unifomiity so ne-
cessary in transactions which involve inhabitants of
different countries. From the same source, Scotland
and the greater part of continental Kuroi)e hare de-
52

rived a marriage law so difiTerent from the ceremonioua
system that prevails in England. Its leading prin-
ciple is, that the consent of the parties alone is neces-
sary to a valid marriage, and that when that is proved,
nothing more is necessary ; and that a child born
between parties who are subseauently married, becomes
legitimate by that act. The law of tmsts and of tho
mutual rights and obligations of guardian and ward,
have found their way more or less into every modern
system, and even into the statute-law of England.
Prescription, or tho principle that claims are limited
by the lapse of time, has come down to us from the
Romans. The law of testaments, and the descent of
movable property, is niainlpr derived from the sanio
qr.arter. It is in the case ot the tenure and transmis-
sion of land, indeed, that the person versed in modern
systems will find himself least at home in the Roman,
from the effect which the feudal institutions of the
various nations of Europe have produced on that
branch of the law. The subjection in which children
were placed to their parents is apt to create surprise,
even when compared with the strict filial etiquette of
our own ancestors. A revolting feature of the corpus
jurij? is the portion of legislation devoted to the subject
of slavery and the property in slaves.

The Roman law has already been mentioned as the
source of the law of nations, or, as it is more justly
called, the intarnational law, in modem Europe. It was
quite natural that a syitem voluntarily adopted among
nations for regulating their mutual intercourse, should
be founded, to as great an extent an might be expedient,
on the system of the internal laws which the majority
of tho nations had chosen to adopt. But the law of
nations is pei-pctually varying with circumstances, and
it is impossiblo to draw that distinct view of its nature
and provisions which may be given of the laws of any
particular state. It has been argued, indeed, that the
term 'law' is improperly a])plied to the system. Where-
ever the term law is used, there is understood not only
a regulation laid down, but a means of enfoi-cing it in
the hands of a su|)erior power. The civil and criminal
laws are enforced by the ordinary courts; the military
law, by courts martial; the law of the church, by the
ecclesiastical courts, kc. But who, it is said, is to bo
the judge to enforce the Ia<'' between nations I When
two nations have a dispuf ;id their power ig equal, it
remains undecided ; if the one is much superior in
strength to the other, it has matters its own way. In
the late war, Great Britain maintained that she had a
right to search all neutral vessels, for the purpose of
ascertaining if they contained contraband goods or
sheltered deserters. The smaller states were bound to
submit ; but America resisted, and the dispute occa-
sioned a bloody war. So it probably will be again
when tho same claim is urged. Instead of being a
fixed law applicable to all, the weak will have to obey,
and the strong will resist. For the enforcement of any
rules that may be call< <i the law of nations, then, it is
clear that there is no better sanction than this, that the
powei-g which openly outrage them will call forth a
degree of indignation on the part of the rest of the
world which may pi-ove dangerous. The partition of
Poland, for instance, called forth the indignation of the
rest of Europe; and it may be still a question whether
the acquisition was a prudent one to the nations con-
cerned. It is not to be supposed, however, that there
are no courts where the law of nations is enforced.
Each country in Europe has generally a court where
its own views on the subject are laid down. England
has, for instance, the prize jurisdiction of the Court of
Admiralty, which is thus called a civil law court.
During the late war, when Napoleon, by his Berlin
decrees, declared Great Britain and her colonies in a
state of blockade, and Britain retaliated by the orders
in council on the rest of Europe, a multitude of cases
where tho ships of neutral powers had been seized for
bleach of neutrality were adjudged. And hci-e a cir-
cumstance occurred which could not take place i)ro-
bably in any other country, that the view taken of the

HtetORt OP LAWS.

law of nations by the judge waa different I'rom that
taken by his governinent; for Lord Stowell declared
that a blockade could not be held to exist by incre
proclamation, but that there must be present on the
spot an armament sufficient to enforce it.

One of the principal defects of the writings in the
civil law, and one tliat renders the subject in a great
measure unpopular at the present day, is the spirit of
speculation with which they are imbued, and the extent
to which they carry divisions and arrangements which
are of no service in practice, and provide for wants
purely hypothetical. The civilian in his study, shut
out from the world, and ignorant of its pursuits, sets his
brain at work to create the various exigencies of prac-
tical life to which the maxims of the institute were
applicable, and to devise how they could be applied ;
but when his labours were brought to f'ae l.'ght of day,
it was found that the world in its practice^ and be in
his thoughts, had taken totally different routes, and
that the one could not be the companion of the other.
If a tailor make clothes with another man's cloth, to
which of the two shall they belong ) If an artist paint
on another man's canvas, who shall be the proprietor
of the picture ) Such were among the subtleties dis-
cussed among the Roman jurists. In later days, when
legislators have too much to do in keeping up with the
practical demands of society to indulge in hypothetical
law-making, such subjects would not be taken up until
cases of difficulty actually occurred ; and then, before
deciding the abstract questions, it would probably be
asked under what circumstances tailors are likely to
make garments out of cloth which dues not belong to
them, or artists to paint on other people's canvas '.

THE CANON LAW.

The Canon Law is, properly speaking, the eccl '-
tical law of the Roman Catholic Church. In its •
limited acceptation, it may be called the by-laws of tiio
church as a separate corporation ; but its field widened
with tho influence of the hierarchy. It embraced many
subjects of pure civil and municipal law, such as the
distribution of property between married persons, suc-
cession, &c.,by linking them with ecclesiastical matters;
and thus the clerical tribunals came to rival, if not to
excel in importance, those of the state. The canons
of the Greek Church| a portion of which were said to
be the work of the apostles, added to and explained by
general councils, were sanctioned by the Novels of Ji s-
tinian, and have so been viewed as a portion of. t t
body of civil law. A collection of canons was made in
the year 520 ; and this work, with the papal decrees,
and the privileges conceded to the church by Charle-
magne, formed the chief subject-matter of the canon
law down to the twelfth century. It was then that
this law ceased to be the mere regulations of a peculiar
body, and became a general system of jurisprudence.
About the year 1114, a collection of the decrees of
popes and cardinals was commenced by Ivo, Bishop of
Chartres ■i.nd was revised and completed in 1149 by
tiratian, » Benedictine monk. Another element in the
system consisted of the Decretals, which were rescripts
or epistles by the pope, or by the pope and cardinals,
deciding how the law of tiie church stood concerning
disputed matters referred to tbeni. These were first
collected and edited in 1234 by Uaimond de Renafort,
chaplain to Gregory IX. This v jrk was divided into
five books, to which a sixth was added under the
auspices of Boniface VIII. in 1298. These two great
works, with some additions made to them by succeed-
ing popes, formed what, in imitation of the collected
works in the law of Rome, was called the Corpus Juris
Canonici, or Body of the Canon Law. Besides these
general statutes, there were local canon laws passed by
the clergy of various countries, at national or provincial
assemblies, held under the auspices of papal legates
or archbishops. In the reign of Henry III. there were
assemblies of the former kind; and under the respective
archbishops of England there were frequent provincial
synods. In Scotland, two provincial synods, held at

Perth in 1242 f.nd 1269, p&ssed iom4 important laWl
regarding tithes.

The great aim of ecclesiastical legislation was to bring
civil questions within its pale. Disputes as to tithe and
the privilegea of the clergy came very naturally to it8
hand. The priesthood were in a great measure in-
trusted with the administration of legacies, especially
where they were destined to pious uses ; and they thus
acquired a jurisdiction in questions of succession, of
which we see vestiges in this country in the Court of
Arches and the other ecclesiastical courts of England,
and the commiss'^ry system in Scotland. Marriage
being constitutec' a sacrament, the canon law not only
took into its hands all questions regarding the union
and separation of the parties, but adjudged in the cri-
minal act out of which the latter circumstance might
arise, and took under its cognisance questions as to
dower. The church obtained a powerful hold over the
proceedings of ordinary courts of law, by the introduc-
tion. of the practice of witnesses and parties calling God
to attest the truth of their statements — the origin of the
present system of administering an oath. (Jver this
ceremony, and all mattera connected with the truth or
falsehood of the statement it santUoned, the clergy
took a particular charge. Notaries, who, in the days of
ignorance, were intrusted with the execution and re-
gistration of contracts — who, in fact, were the living
registers of almost all transactions of importance, were
necessarily taken from the only class who could write —
the churchmen — and their appointment and removal
naturally fell into ecclesiastical hands.

A great rivalry thus existed between the civil and the
canon law; but it was a friendly rivalry. The clergy
were the repositaries of both systems, and they had to
decide how much should be assigned to the one and
how much to the other. The canon law borrowed
largely from the civil, of which it is sometimes con-
sidered a mere branch ; it was naturally, indeed, the
object of the clergy not so much to change the law
itself, as to take the administration of it into their
own hands. To be juris utriusqiie doctor, or doctor of
either law, civi^ and canon, was a common distinction.
During Henry VIII.'s reign, lectures on the canon law
were abolished in England, and with them the^corre-
sponding degree. Jealous as the English were of the
encroachments of the civil law, they still more deter-
minedly opposed that of the canon. What the power-
ful court of Rome had set its heart upon, however,
could not be wholly resisted ; but it v; •: a' ways a
principle, that though the civil authorities of England
might take laws from the ecclesiastical system, the
canon law was never, in its own simple authority, to
be obeyed within the realm.

THE FEUDAL LAW.

The feudal system and the Roman law may be said
tj have struggled for supremacy through nearly the
whole of modern P^urope. Of the influence of the latter
we have already taken a cursory view. The former
was an ingredient in the constitution of the continental
and British monarchies. It was the source of those
popular or aristocratic assemblies which shared more
or less, according to circumstances, the government of
the various states in which they existed ; and it was
thus the ostensible origin of the British parliament.
The constitution of the German enipire is es.'^entially
feudal; and the customs, or peculiar local laws of the.
various provinces of France, previously to the Revolu-
tion, were models from which the system was studied.
The English law, especially that of real or landed pro-
perty, is full of feudal usages, though their operation
has often been checked. In Scotland, the forms of the
f'^udal system may be found existing in almost original
purity, though, as we shall hereafter see, they have
been adapted, perhaps as far as they are capable of
being so, to the wants of civilised times.

An account of the rise and progress of the Roman
law must, for obvious reasons, be far more satisfactory
than any that can be given of the feudal system. Tha

OHAMBEMS iNTOBMATlOir f OB TBS PSOPLS.

former wm (ftt l«Mt Ui* mat«r part of it) the oon-
•truction of ioesnioui indiTlduali, poHSued of authority
to enforoe their niMidatei on their fellow-beingi. The
Utter ffradualljr roie out of circuiuitADcei and the
■tate of lociety. It waa not deviied hy a powerful
legiilator, to be promulgated to a willing people ; but
i( roie out of habiti and eventa which took place in an
age when there were no hittoriane to record their pro-
grew. Hence the origin of the feudal ayitem hat been
a fruitful lubject of debate and theorjr; and in the
abience of facte, it hai often been neceuary to resort
to n'oral deductioni. It has been maintained by some
that nothing can be more simple than the feudal sys-
tem; that it was a mere arrangement by which military
■errice was given in exchange fnr land, and that many
half-civilised nations preset t i.ijtances of a similar
contract. Ingenious speculators have found the resem-
blance of the system in particular stages of the hiatory
of Greece and Rome, in Turkey, Persia, Hindoostaii,
and the Highlands of Scotland, among the aborigines
of North America, and in the Loo-choo Islands. But
however important may be the investigation of surh
analogies between the practice of mankind under diffe-
rent circumstances, as a part of the history of the human
mind, they throw but little light on the feudal system,
thp chief interest of which is to be found in the vastness
of the field which it covered, and the influence which
it has exercised for so many centuries over the legal
institutions of Europe.

The essential elements of the feudal system were
land, and military service given for the use of it, by the
rassal who held it, to the superior of whom it was held.
It would be wrong to speak of either of these two par-
ties aa the absolute proprietor of the lands; for in the
more perfect stage of the system, each had his own
peculiar privileges, with which the other had no right
to interfere, except where the law permitted him. The
rassal waa not, in the general case, the slave of the
luperior. The dutie^i and services he had to perform
were regulated by compact or custom. On the other
hand, however, he was not the independent pro-
prietor of the lands he held. He could not conver
them to a purchaser, nor could he pledge or bequeath
them, without obtaining the sanction of the superior
to the person to be substituted to him. Land was thus
completely removed from the operation of commerce ;
and in those countries where the feudal sy<item conti-
nued to exist, it was only by fictions and connivances —
by bribing the superior, or getting the courts of law to
compel him to give his consent — that sales and pledges
could be efi°ecte(l. The lands held in this manner were
tetuied fi(/ii. When they became hereditary, as they
did apparently by custom, arising from the tacit con-
Bent of the parties interested, the superior was still
presumed to give an assent to the change from father
to son ; and before he acknowledged the latter as his
rassal, he exacted from him a fine. When the suc-
cessor was a minor, r.nd thcnoe unable to fulfil the
military duties of the fief, the superior in some cases
became his guardian, drawing the rents of the estate,
and compelling him to marry whom he should point
out, under a penalty which, it would seem^ ought to
amount to the sum which the guardian, or superior,
could receive by selling the alliance. The superior's
claim upon the estate during the vassal's minority be-
came, like most other feudal exactions, fixed by usage,
and seems in general to have amounted to one year's
rent of the land. In some countries females could not
succeed. In others, where their right was acknow-
ledged, the superior claimed the privilege of assigning
huabands to them ; and exacted a fine, sometimes for
admitting the husband as a new vassal, sometimes as
the price for permitting him to marry his ward. The
feudul system, like every other, had its degrees of good-
ness and badness. Where we find the milder features
of the feudal law, the right of the lord over his female
TASsals, or the wives and children of his followers, was
a mere tax ; but where the darker influences of the
lystera were at work, it gave legality to a licentious
64

desiiotism, which is frequently adduced ai a diiguitlng
memorial of the barbarism of feudality. Of illustra-
tions of despotism, indeed, the feudal system is full.
Independently of its own peculiarities, it would Lave
been impossible for any legal system to have passed
through the scenes of rapine, blood, and barbarism
which characterised the middle ages of Europe, without
being the instrument of many iniquities. At the out-
break of the French Revolution, which at first wai little
more than an attack on the most ofiensive relics of
feudalism in Prance, some uf theso liorrors were dragged
from their dingy retreat in parchment records and
black-letter chronicles, to add to the frenzy of the
times. Among other instances, was adduced that of
a feudal lord, on his return from the chase in winter,
disembowelling a vassal, that he might keep his foot
wann in the reeking trunk during the evening revel.

The proper return of the vassal for his lands and the
protection of his lord i^as, ^s already stated, military
service. Where this system was established as a fifed
law, the quantity of service to be so given was regulated.
A knight's fee imposed on the holder the duty of being
forty days in the field for his superior, and the half or
quarter of a knight's i'ee involved corresponding propor-
tions of service. When fiefs came first into existence,
it is probable that there was no other service worth pos-
sessing but the use of the strong arm. Conquered land
was what the chief possessed, men to fight more battles
was what he wanted; so that the one became the price
of the other. It was not always the case, however, that
land was valuable for nothing but as the reward of
fighting, and it was gradually bestowed for other con-
siderations ; yet so closely connected had the relation
of a military tenure become with land, that any other
method of disposal was considered as irregular, and
merely exceptional. Hence, when laud was given with-
out a price, and for the understood return of military
service, it was said to be a proper feu ; when any other
consideration, such aa a sum of money, was stii)ulated
for, it was said to be improper. The former was always
presumed to be the condition on which land was given,
the latter required to be spcially proved, and the un-
willingness to admit it called for those legal subtleties
which have made the commerce inland to this day
so complicated. It behoved that there should be pos-
sessors of land who were not of necessity soldiers, and
it was necessary to the monarch, or feudal superior, to
employ people in various other capacities. All, how-
ever, took the impression and stamp, as it were, of
fiefs. Salaries, taxes, honours, and dignities, even board
and lodging, were feucd out : the person who had en-

gagcd to bestow them acted the part of superior, and
e who received them that of vassal. The church
enjoyed lands which were not exempt from the ordi-
nary feudal services. In the earlier ages, churchmen
in many cases themselves assumed the speur and
buckler. When it was considered inconsistent for
churchmen to fight, it was held as by no means unsuit-
able for the church to employ soldiers. A clerical
establishment would sometimes appoint a patron, or
chivalrous assistant, in the person of a neighbouring
baron, who would be called the ' advocate ' of the estab-
lishment — the use, by the way, to which that word,
which now designates a class of peaceful lawyers, was
first tpplied. It is not unfrequent to rind in old tenui-es
that a particular monastery is to supply so many archers
and spearmen for so many days.

Borough communities were another class to whom
military service seems inapplicable, but who never<
theless almost universally hald by that tenure. They
obtained certain privileges, and in return they had
generally to keep watch and ward in their respective
towns ; a service in which their ovr'x safety might not
be less interested than the ambition of their lord. As
the privileges conceded to these communities were large
and important, they did not, in general, escape taxation
along with their military duties ; and in later times,
these exactions became generally commuted for a money
payment. The privileges usually conceded to thei«

• HISTOBT or LAWS.

Oommerolnl coinmunUiei contiited of an exemption
from the more vexAtioui of the feudal exactioni, to bo
■hortly uoticcd. These were generally conceded to them
by the nionarchs, aa a counterpoiae to the growing power
of the feudal ariitocracy; and within these Banutuariei
commerce and civiliiation created a "^ower, by which
both kingi and nobility wore eiiectually held in check.

Among thoao who were placed in the poaition of
feudal vauali to the leignior, or lord, were hi* own
doweatic servanta, whoao power and influence would be,
to a certain extent, ineuaured bv that of their luaater.
To perform the menial duties of liia houaehold, a Roman
emperor employed a slave, juat as a aeuator or a pro-
conaul might do. Tho barbarian conquerora, however,
gave lands to those who performed these functions; and
the person who performed for Charlemagne the office of
butler, valet, huntsman, or groom, got for his services
the commodity most readily at his master's hands — por-
tions of conquered territory. The services were thus
performed as the consideration for feudal benefices.
The menial servant of the monarch might have tenants
and retainers under him; and thus the wages ennobled
the functiona. Hence we have had in modem Europe
masters of the robes, grooms of th'^ stole, masters of
the buckhounds, masters of the horae, &c. held by the
highest nobility of the realm. The yrt\f, or land-steward
of a district, was an important personage. Instead of
attending to the letting of paddocks, and the rotation
of crops, he was intrusted with the power of life and
death over the inhabitants. The humble grieve, who
has tha management of a small landed estate in Scot-
land, and the shire-rieve, or sheriff, who performs high
judicial functions in the same part of the empire, have
divided, as it were, between them the original duties
of the feudal officer from whom their names are derived.
The same feudal origin may be as distinctly traced, on
a larger scale, in the relation of master and servant in
modem times. Servitude, however menial, when allied
with feudal dependence, did not carry the same degra-
dation as mere slavery; and in the opinion of some, the
situation of the feudal attendant was higher than that
of the menial servant of modern days, who freely gives
his labour and attendance for a price. In Scotland,
where feudal usages have lingered so long, it has been
remarked that the relation between master and servant
is of a more confidential nature than it is found to be
in other parts of the country. While the line drawn
between their positions is as clear as it can well be in
a free country, the situation of the servant has a more
than ordinary share of respectability attached to it,
because, instead of being the individual servant of an
individual master, he and his race are looked upon, to
a certain extent, as the retainers of the house which he
serves. On this point, indeed, an adherence to feudal
usages in situations to which they are not applicable,
has been productive of one of the greatest evils of
modern society — the extent to which servants are kept,
not fur use, but as an ornamental evidence of wealth.
Our lineal aristocracy continue to follow, so far as the
usages of the day permit, the practice of their ancestors;
and the gentlemen of plush and shoulder-knuts are
the representatives of those who wore buff jerkins, and
handled the pike. The rich merchant and manufacturer
must not be without the usual insignia of wealth; and
thus a race, whom idleness and constant association
vith each other nmst deprave, are kept up among a
bustling and active community, as if wc lived in the
dayb when the majority must either serve or starve.
It has been remarked, that in republics such as Hol-
land was, the wealth of rich individuals generally took
the more ennobling direction of patronising the fine
arts and literature.

In the earlier ages of the feudal system, when there
was much land to distribute, the natural features and
boundaries were sometimes little known to those who
gave it away. The persons who received it were aggran-
dising and ambitious, and not likely to yield to each
other disputed portions. Above all, the conquerors
were uneducated, and had little means of giving rir-

petuity to their bounty by written deeds. From all these
circumstances, the investiture of the voaaal became a
very important and solemn affair. Investiture was
divided into proper and improper. By the former, the
superior went in person to the land, aaserabled all his
other vassals upon it, and showed them the portion bo
had assigned to his new follower. The vassal, u^on
this, did homage, accepting the grant, and promising
to perform the usual services in return. B^ the im-
proper investiture, of the full practice of which in our
own day we shall give an instance, the auperior gave
authority to his bailiff, or some other person, to give
investiture, which was done by the symbolical delivery
of a portion of the property — some earth and a piece of
stone generally — to the vassal, or some person autho-
rised by him to accept the grant and perform his homage.
Writing was probably in use before this latter usage
waa commenced, and the authority was generally a
written one. The aolemn investiture in presence of
the CO- vassals finally descended to a mummery between
an attorney and his clerks. The necessity to have acts
regarding the fiefs of a superior witnessed by his vassals,
can be traced to a connection with two of the most im-
portant institutions of modem times. The great vas-
sals of a king, met together in public assembly to dis-
cuss what aids they p-,ight afford for their fiefs, how
they were to defend them, &c. merged into a great
council or legislature; and it is to such a body that the
British parliament at least partly owes its origin. At
this moment, the bishops of England sit in the House
of Lords in virtue of the feudal baronies which they
hold of the crown. Vassals of the lower grade were
often summoned tu attend at the ball of their lord as
assessors, or assizers, to give, partly opinion, partly
evidence, concoruing some matter connected with the
fief, or the conduct or rights of a fellow-vassal. With
this institution, the system of trial by jury is inti-
mately connected. A jury of perambulation, for the
purpose of ascertaining boundaries — a sort of body
lineally descended from the assemblage of co-vassals
who were present at the investiture, and witnessed the
extent of the gift — has been known in modern times.

It is probable, that if the feudal system had onlpr
established a relation between the monarch and his
immediate vassals, the influence it would have exer-
cised over the state of Europe would have been com-
paratively slight. The distribution of land as the
reward of services, is frequently exemplified in his-
tory ; but that which chiefly distinguished the feudal
syp'.cm, is the numerous grades of dependence, and the
manner in which all parts of society, from the emperor
to the lowest serf, were bound together in one system
of lord and vassal. In the first place, there were
various grades of vassals holding of the monarch. The
majority of the lower classes, however, generally found
themselves under the protection of some intermediate
chief. The duke, or count, who held immediately of
the crown, sub-feued to a dependant, who, on his part,
might dispose of a fragment in a similar manner. By
such an alienation, however, the vassal dared not in
anyway interfere with his superior's rights; the latter,
indeed, was not presumed to be conscious of the sub-
infeudation, unless he had specially sanctioned it, and
by doing so, he acknowledged the sub-vassal as his
own immedin'i retainer. When a vassal, therefore,
sub-feued without his superior's consent, he gave only
a portion of the estate he himself possessed, his sub-
vassal being liable to meet all. the exactions that might
fall upon him. So, if he rebelled against his lord, or
withheld the feudal exactions, the superior could seize
upon the fief without reference to the claims of the
sub-vassal. The highest feudal noble was the Heretoch,
who, from the Latin o-'^, a leader, received the desig-
nation of duke : this class was intrusted with the admi-
nistration of large provinces. The graf, who had a
smaller charge, was called comes, or count; and one
clnaa of graf, who was intrusted with tne marches, was
called the mar-grave, march-graf, or marquis. These
nobles generally held lands of their sovereign, while

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

lh«)r were ikuthoriied to rcpreient hii perton over the
diitriets to which tlwy were oMipne'l, adniiniitering
juitico in bii uamo, levyini? hi» feudal exactioiw on bin
VMials, and receiving their homa((«. 'rhoM powerful
feudaforiei were held in check by Charleinapie ; but
under hii iuccesion, and the other European monarchi,
it became their aim to be the indepnndent lOTereiKni
of the territoriei committed to their charge— an object
in which they were more or lew «uccei»ful according to
circumgtancea, some throwing off their matter'! yoke,
while otherR made tbeniiwlvcg intermediate luperiora
between the king and hii vaisaU. The varioua itatei
«f Italy and Germany are ilimtration* of the working
of these event*. The feudatoriei of Franco made a very
near npproaoh to independent sovereigntiei, Thf \iog-
Kited within their own dominions the right of cu.ning
money, that of waging private war, exemption from
•11 tribute!, except the limited feudal dutiei by which
they acknowledged the luperiority of the crown, and
finally, freedom from legiilntive and judicial control
on thu part of the lovereign and hiicourti. The vassal,
too, in looking after hit own concorni, lometimes con-
quered territoriei not inferior to those of his lord ; and
under such circunistancei there wai little chance of
hii being an obedient retainer. The Duke of Nor-
mandy, the vassal of the king of France, became nii>-
narch of England, and the IJukes of Burgundy wen-
little less powerful.

From these high personages, vassalage went through
many gradations, till it reached abject slavery. There
were the vavauors and chatelains, dependants on the
higher nobility, but who themseh cs had large estates
and fortified their houses. There were the burghers
of free towns, whose privileges have been already men-
tioned. Of rank corresponding in the rural districts,
were the toeage-holdera, and the class so well known in
England by the designation yeomen. The lowest gra<lc
were the viUeitm or scr/i, to whom was committed the
task of tilling the lands which the soldier gained or
protected. It was the characteristic of the oth'-r grades
of feudality to impose duties upon the lord, corre-
sponding to those of the \:?88al, but the villein had
little power to exact nerfoniiaiiL? of these regulations.
Thprc were grades, however, even among the serfs,
though probably there were not instances in which one
held of another as vassal and superior. The peculiarity
of the class wa«, that they were astricted to the domp.in,
and went with it when it changed hands. Some, how-
ever, had rights and privileges which they might main-
tain in the court of the manor of their lord. Some held
small estates, which, however, they could not dispose
of. The lowest class were as abject and unprurileged
as the slaves ot the Romans.

The different classes of feudal taxes have been men-
tioned above. There were others, however, of a more
miscellaneous nature, which were chiefly encroachments
on the purer spirit of feudality, dictated by despotism
and cupidity. It was upon the vassals who approached
nearest to the state of villeinage that these innovations
naturally fell most heavily. They were designated 'aids,'
and were demanded by the lord on any occasion which
caused hiin outlay. If he had to make war with a
neighbour, or to portion off a relation in marriage, or
to ransom a son, he demanded an aid. Aids were pro-
fusely exacted by the knights who joined in the Cru-
sades. In England, the aids that might be exacted,
were restricted by Magna Charta to three : they were
for the purpose of making the lord's eldest ion a knight,
for marrying his eldest daughter, and for redeeming
his person from prison. Hy exactions in a different
form, the more servile vassals were fl^ced and kept
in subjection. The superior, if he built a mill, astricted
all his vassals to grind their grain at it, compelling them
to pay a tax for the service they were forced to receive.
He compelled them to assist in making roads and
building bridges, and he exacted tolls of all below the

the export and import of commodities; and If ha found
a clever artisan on his preinisei, he would keep him
and his lenicei for hii own uie.

The revival of literature wai not favourable to pure
feudaliim. la brought with it the itudy of the civil and
canon laws, and It was through the lights lo acquired
that the feudal customs were interpreted. Thn decline
of the spirit of the feudal law is matter of history, and
a view of it would lead tn too long a digression. Not
only its effects upon society, but its literal formi, itill
linger amongit us; even in republican America there
is pride and boast of birth, and a knowledge of the
feudal system ii lometimci requiiite in wcertaining the
title to proi)erty.

THK LAW Of UNUUND.

Kngland has already been mentioned ai an exception
to the general prcvalen<-o in Europe of the civil and
canon laws; not that tliesc systems were totally re-
pulsed, but that they met with a countervailing resist-
ance, which prevented thciii from obtaining the influ-
ence they possessed In other countries. This roiittance
may bo found in the existence of a different, and, it
may perhaps be said, hostile system, called the common
law, and to the power of parliament to make laws or
statutes. The three great elements of the .Hirispriidence
<if England are the common law, the law uf equity, and
the statute law. To these may be added, as codes
limited to particular ipherei, the Admiralty law and
the ecclesiastical law.

Common Law.
Speaking of the common law. Sir Matthew Hale, its
historian, says: 'This is that law by which proceedings
and dctermmations in the king's ordinary courts of
justice are directed and guided. This directs the course
of descents of lands, and the kinds, tho natures, and
the extents and qualifications of estates ; therein, alio,
the maimer, forms, ceremonies, and solemnities of
transferring estates from one to another; the rules uf
settling, acquiring, and transferring of properties; tho
forms, solemnities, and obligations of contracts; the
rules and directions for the exposition of wills, deeds,
and acts of parliament; the process, proceedings, judg-
ments, and executions of the king's ordinary courts of
justice; the limits, bounds, and extent of courts, and
their jurisdictions; the several kind of temporal offences
and punishments at common law, and the manner of
the application of the several kinds of punishments;
and infinite more particulars, which extend themselves
as largo as the many exigencies in the distribution of
the king's ordinary justice require.'

The origin of this system — one of the most interest-
ing subjects of modem invest! -ation — is involved in
deep obscurity. Its progress subsequently to the
reign of Edward I., who has been called the English
Justinian, is pretty accurately noticed ; but when an
unprofessional inquirer reads those portions of Eng-
lish law-books which attempt to carry the history tu'
an earlier period, he cannot help feeling disappointed
at the unsutisfoctory result. The more marked fea-
tures of the system were, doubtless, the customs of
the Anglo-Saxons. A collection of the laws of Eng-
land during the heptarchy, or laws of tho Anglo-
Saxons, was published by an eminent antiquary at
the commencement of the eighteenth century ; but
there ii> great reason to believe that they wera written
soH!^ cjni'trles after the Conquest; while the fragments
of Angio-Svxon legislation which they contain refer
chiefly to the arrangement of the military force, the-
clergy, and other matters of general or police regula-
tion, which, in the present instance, are less interesting
than a little insight into the laws relating tu private
rights would be. Alfred and Edgar have acquired
much fame for having collected and ananged the laws
of their predecessors, reformed them where they were

aegreeollrwholderswhocrossedthem— a system which impolitic, and completed them where deficient; but
placed impediments in the way of vassals escaping from it would be difficult t<. determine their exact merits,
piace^^o place. He obtained tolls and dutiei, too, on I Edward the Confessor enjoys a simJliir reputation. To-

HISTORY OP LAWS.

him, indeed, hiitnry luppliei ui with good ground for
rcferrinf; equitable lawi, for wo liiid that wlien the
people complained against tlie oppreiiion nf the Nonnan
Vingi, they demanded ' the good old lawa nf Kdward the
(.'onfeMor.' It ii probable, however, that the conipli-
iiient did not apply to him lo much in the capacity of
a legivlator ok that of the loat of the Maxon klngi.

Whatever niav havo been the exact nature of the
lawi of the \ngrn-Knxona, the Conqueit efleutually in-
corporated thom with the feudal syitem, and the con-
uectiun between vamal and BU|terior became one uf the
moat important featiirea of the common law. It is not
to be Buupoaed, however, that thii was the earliest visit
uf feudal inatitutions to Uritain, The Saxons could not
well escai>c the influence of a system which Lad deeply
rooted itself among the kindred nations of the continent ;
and many feudal institutiona are to be found exjating
under the Saxon kings. The increase of the spirit of
feudalism under the swav of William the Conqueror
was, however, so groat, that many authors have attri-
buted its origin in England to the era of the Conquest.
It was then, indeed, that it became oppreasive. The
Conqueror brought with him the system of his own pro-
vince, for which he wa« a vaasal to the king of France,
and could not admit the possession of landed property
in England, except as held from himself in the capacity
of loi^ paramount. The greater nobles — chiefly the
Conqueror's companions in arms — naturally hold the
lands he liberally bestowed on them of him ai superior,
and they compelled all who lived upon their lands, oi-
even in their neighbourhood, to acknowledge them as
liege lords. The forcible increase of such a system tvs
the feudal law could not but be attended with acts of
great oppression. These were added to by the selfish
magnificence of the princes, who cleared large trivets
of country of inhabitants, that they might enjoy the
regal pleasures of the chose in undisturbed tranquillity.
The Saxons had their own county courta, but the
greater part of the causes were, atler the Conquest,
removed from them to be pleaded in the court of the
monarch, which attended on his own person. Legal
proceedings were conducted in the Norman dialect of
the French, which wag afterwards changed into Latin.
The use of a tongue unknown to the people at large
continued down to the days of Oliver Croiuwoll, and
at the Restoration was restored, with somo other ab-
surd practices. It was aboliahed in as far us respects
the proceedings nf the courts in 1730.

The charters that were so often granted by the ear-
lier kings to the importunity of their subjects, were
partially restrictions of the tyranny of the feudal law,
and partially promises to adhere to the old Saxon cus-
toms — promises which would not have been so often
exacted if they had not been continually broken. The
most celebrated of these is that conceded by King John,
called Magna Charta, or the Ureat Charter. Its privi-
leges are in a great measure constitutional, and it has
often been said that it was procured for the advantage
of the aristocracy, and not of the people; but it is not
without stipulations in favour of the latter, protecting
them both from the crown and from the nobility. It
restricts the tyrannical forest laws, and the arbitrary
exactions by feudal lords from their vassals. The
clause which has attracted chief interest, however, is
that which says that no freeman shall be affected in
his person or pro|)erty, save by the legal judgment of
his peers, or by the law of the land. Legal writers
have found a stately tree of liberty growing out of the
seed planted bv this simple sentence. They discover in
it the origin of that judicial strictness which has kept
the English judges so close tc the rules laid down for
them in the books and decisions of their predecessors.
The judgment by peers is said to refer to jury trial,
and it is urged that the whole clause strikes against
arbitrary imprisonments, and invulrvs the ])rinciple of
the habetu corpus, by which every man, whose liberty is
restricted, may demand Co be brought before some com-
petent court, in order that he may be either convicted
or liberated. The Oreat Charter htM always been a

favourite object of veneration Imth with the aristocrat
and the people, and 8ir Kdward Coke reckons no lese
than thirty dift'erent occasions on which it was ratifieil.
Civil libertT may be <lefined as the pennisaion of such
an amount of free action as it ia moat conducive to the
welfare of all that each individual ahould uossess. This
is one of the moit important objects of the laws, and the
circumstances which conduce to its existence are among
the most intereating in legal hiatory. In England, the

Erogreas of liberty has been in a great measure attri-
uted to the division of interests m the country. Tht
crown had nn interest in checking the power of the great
nobility. That the exercise of this power was essential
to the liberty that hai existed in England, is apparent
in contemplating the state of France and (Jermany,
where the aristocracy made themselves either quite
or nearly independent of the crown, and revelled in
the tyranny of their despotic wills unchecked. A very
important blow to the power of the aristocracy was
accomplished by Edward I. in 12S0, by the abolition of
the system of sub-feuing. From that day, no vassal of
the crown could grant lands to be held of himself, as
he may to this day in Scotland — he could only put a
new vassal in his own place, as an adherent of the
crown. There is evidence that a similar law was passed
in Scotland, but the crown was not strong enough to
enforce an enactment which deprived the aristocracy of
the privilege of being petty sovereigns. The disputes
with the church wore not without their service. The
attempts of the ecclesiastics to urge the i;raims of their
Homan and canon laws, caused the common lawyers to
isolate themselves from the slavish doctrines of these
systems, and to resist their encroachment with true
professional hatred. It was in the universities of
coune that the clergy ha<I their chief influence ; and
the students of the common law formed themselves into
rival institutions, from which originated the Inns of
Court. Then there was in the boroughs a separate in-
terest, powerfully pointing towards freedom, and pos-
sessed of an innuence not to be despised. The tendency
of all these circumstances seems to nave been, a gradual
return to Saxon freedom, and a fixing of the common
law in conformity with the long-cherished feelings of
the English people.

That strong-minded and clear-headed man Edward I.,
whose ambition was so heavy a curse ' ^ h's neighbours,
took a great stride in the establishment of the conmiou
law. Of his reforms, as enumerated by Hlackstone,
wo give the following specimens: — ' He established,
confirmed, and settled the Oreat Charter and Charter
of Forests. He gave a mortal wound to the encroach-
ments of the pope and his clerey, by limiting and estab-
lishing the grounds of ecclesiastical jurisdiction; and
by obliging the ordinary, to whom all the goods of
intestates at that time belonged, to discharge tlie debts
of the deceased. He defined the limits of the several
temporal courts of the highest jurisdiction — those of the
King's Bench, Common Pleas, and P^xchequer — so as
they might not interfere with each other's proper busi-
ness; to do which they must now have recourse to a
fiction, very necessary ivnd beneficial in the present
enlarged state of property. He settled the boundaries
of the inferior courts in counties, hundreds, and manors,
confining thorn to causes of no great amount, according
to their primitive institution, though of considerably
greater than by the alteration of the value of money
they are now permitted to determine. He secured the
property of the subject by abolishing all arbitrary taxes,
and talliages levied without consent of the national
counciL He guarded the common justice of the kingdom
from abuses, by giving up the royal prerogative of
sending mandates to interfere in private causes. He
instituted a speedier way for the recovery of debts, by
granting execution, not only upon goods and chattels,
but uIho upon lands, by writ of elegit, which was of
signal benefit to a trading people; and upon the same
commercial ideas, he also allowed the charging of lands
ia a statute merchant, to pay debts contracted in trade,
contrary to all feudal principles.' This last-mentioned

CIUMBBBS'S IinrOBMATIOlir rOB THB PKOPLIS.

rtfurm uUn to >n«uurW for mtbling » omditor to nt
noMOMlon of hit dabtor't iMid In p*vni«iit of hi* d«bt.
How oppoftd luoh » nmodjr would b« to ftud»l prin-
olplM nikjr tMily b« eoneeiT«<l| Md tho boldneu with
wUoh EdwMd idmIo bti roformi will b« felt wlion it ii
ooniidorad tb*t what bo had tbui oommtnoid wm only
oompUtod in 1883. If tho dtbt of* Undad proprietor
w«c« not lubetMntlAted br lome bond or other doou-
raent, hit Und could not be applied iu payment of it
on his deoeaee ; and it wai only in that year that
landed property wai made fully aTailabla for ' iimple
oontraet deote/ The itatement that Edward Imposed
limlte on eonleeiaatical Juriidiotionf, refer* to the au>
thoritT whioh the olemy arronted regarding will*—
already mentioned under the nead of the canon law,
Edward allowed them the charge of the deceaaed'*
eftot*, but compelled them to employ the money in
paying hi* debt*.

From the period when we diicorer anr branch of the
common law In exietence, we And it* obierrance rigo-
roudy enforced by the Judge*. Of course, they had
Tery firequently, a* (ocleti^ progreieed, to apply it to
the want* of an age very dim-reut from that in which it
wa* inrented; bdt, in doine so, iuitead of directly alter-
ing the law, which they always riewed a* beyond their
power, they accomplished the change by a manoeuvre
almoet peculiar to the law of England, called ' a
fiction.' A fiction may be define*! to bo the taking for
granted that a thing ha* been done which ha* not been
done, and acting accordingly. For instance, if a man
had taken an article in loan or on hire, and refuted
to giro it up to the owner, the legal remedy, by the
common law, wa* a Tery complicated one. In the case,
howerer, where a man had found another'* proMrtr
which he refused to restore, there was a very expedi-
tious and distinct remedy. It occurred to lawyers, that
the kind of process used in this latter case was the very
thing that would be most suitable for the other; and
therefore, when they brought an action against a person
who thus wrongfully detained the goods of another, they
stated that he had found them, and the judges, agreeing
in the propriety of the form of action being applied to
the purpose, would not allow the party to show that
there was no finding in the case. Hence the well-
known action of trover, from the French trouver, to
find. Some carious illuttrationt of fictions of law will
be given when we describe the method in which the
courts acquired their juritdiction.

Fietlons were not, however, the only means by which
ihii judges, while a<lhering apparently to the letter of
the law, could adjust it to their own views of the wants
of society. A far-seeing judge who looked forward to
the probable rite of a new system of transactions, could,
by a swaying of the principles of the law that might be
quite imperceptible at the moment, adapt them to the
new exigencies. It was thus that Lord Mansfield, with-
out the aid o' statute, created the law of insurance.
There are frequentiv many underwritert, or insurers
to a policy; and had the practice been as it was, each
would have had to be prosecuted separately on the
occasion of a loss ; but Mansfield, by a very slight
divergence from previous practice, brought all the
claims in a policy into one action — an expedient with-
out which the system as it at present stands could
not have existed. This was accomplished by a rule
of court known by the name of the Consolidation Rule,
by which all the actions except one is stayed, on the
various defendants becoming bound to abide by the
issue of that action. In their covert efiTorts to change
the laws, the judges did not spare even acts of parlia-
ment. They managed to hit a blow at the power of the
ar!*to«nu;y, by limiting the operation of the statute of
entalL. When the holder of the entailed estate wished
to sell it, be let the buyer bring an action against him,
alleging that he had no title. He laid he had bought
the property from some one — usuiilly the crier of the
court — whose dutv it wa* to rapport hi* title. The
crier being called m, made default, and was nominallv
adjudged to give the holder under the entail an equi-
68

valent, with whom there wa* no eflkotual eempetitoTi
while the estate wa* adjudge<l to the purchaeer.

The repoeitorie* of the common law are the treatiaet
of eminent lawyer* and the re|K>rt* of deeielon*. Of
the fonner, there are eeveral of the thirteenth and
fourteenth centurie*— Olanvil, Braoton, Hengham, and
the book called Fleta, the authorship of which 1( un-
known. Lyttloton's treatise on Tenures, the work of a
more matured system, wa* long the text-book in the
practice of the feudal law. It wa* in the humble form
of a comment on thi* work, that the mat Chief-Juetice
Coke issued the vatt treasury of legal learning to famU
liarly known a* ' Coke upon Lyttleton,' a book whioh
i* in ittelf an almott inexhauttible tubjeot of itudy to
the lawyer. The next great nam* it Blackttone, a man
who brought elegant accompliihment* to bear on the
austere drudgery of tho law, and wrote a book, the clear
perspicuity of which ha* made many men acquainted
with the law* of their country who would have •Hher-
wite remained profoundly ignorant of them. The book
ha* one great Jefect, that, profe**ing to be not merely
un expotltion of the lawt but an eitimate of their worth,
it bettowt inditcriminate eulogy on all the vioet of the
system as well as its advantages. The reverential eye
with which English lawyers look upon whatever ii
ancient in tho common law, is singularly apparent in
the mi^oritr of law-books. If any great authority, such
a* Coke or Blackstone, ha* treated of a particular *ub-
ject, whoever afterwards write* upon it seems to be
held bound to incorporate all that he ha* *aid, not only
in spirit, but in words. As the passage* are not marked
u* quoted, the efiisct 1* a very peculiar one ; for the
reader, after perusing a few sentence* in tho ea*y flow
of the nineteenth century, find* himself unexpectedly
entangled in the quaint language of the reign of Jamee
I., without the slightest hint that he is going to set,
not the statement of the author himself, but something
taken from Coke or Spelman. Of the reports of case*
thero is now a vast collection. From the time of Ed-
ward I. to that of Henry VIII., thoy were annually col-
lected by oflicer* appointed for the purpose, and were
called year-books. They have latterly Men published
by private reporters. As they are all precedents fbr
guidance in succeeding cases, and therefore the source
to which the public look for the interpretation of tho
laws they must oliey, it may be questioned whether
they should not be officially recorded by persons re-
sponsible for the accuracy of their reports. This plan
ha* to a certain extent been adopted iii America.

Law of Equity.

The peculiar strictness with which the common law
was aduiiniitered, gave rise to the other great divi-
sion of English jurisprudence — the law of equity.
This was originally a system by which relief was given
in case* where a strict interpretation of the common
law would have produced injustice. It could look to
the influence of accidents and frauds when common
law could not. A deed, for instance, was lost. The
common law court* could hear nothing about what
might have been its contents. They could see nothing,
know nothing, act on nothing, but the express words of
the deed as set before them ; and as that could not be
found, the party must suffer. Here the court of equity
came to his relief, by compelling a ' discovery ' of the
contents of the document. When a trustee was put in
possession, common law could not l(«k at him iii any
other light but as holding for hit own behoof; but
equity compelled him to do hit duty to his employers.
Where an obligation wat to pay, common law could
comprehend its nature and exact performance, but if it
was to perform any other act, the assistance of equity
wot generally necetsary. Again, the courtt of lair
might give a remedy for a mischief after it had been
perpetrated, but they could not interfere to prevent it.
This necessary branch of legal administration came
likewise within the juritdiction of the Judge in equity,
who, on cauie thown, could isiue hit ' injunction.'

The origin of thla lystem is as obscure as that uf the

UnfOBY OF LAWg.

•emmoB Uw, ttioufk It ti t?id«itly of » mora motUrn
(UU, hkTiug baan introduoad m • rtinadjr to th« tviU
of th« Utt«r. Tb« ttaUt Uw-bouki do not mention it,
•nd it WM prob»l>ljr lonn in opcnliou m • lort of ax-
wption to tht ordinary cuune uf iair, bafora iawyara
would Mknowledga it m a lyitem. Its nioit plauitbla
ori(ln ia limply thii — that wiien a perion lufTarad a
nauifaat injury wbich tlia ordlnarv courti could not
ramadr. ha appliad for radraia to the lovaraigii in par-
ion. Tha king's oonicisiioe-kaaper, ur chaplain, bacaiua
tba refaraa on theaa oi-canioni, and what ha did ba
laalad, br way uf tsitinioiiy of tlie royal authority, with
tha king's laal. Hence the origin of the lord chancellor
with hij great loal, whoH office, in thin furtn, has been
traced, or imagined to be traced, lo far baclk as the
dayi of Kdward the Confeuur. lu early tiiiiei, the
chauoallori were eccleiiaiticf, and they thiii ware in
the habit of adiuating their rquitr, and the form in
which they adininittered, it to llie ciril law. This occa-
lionad great feuda with the common law courta, which
at the oomnienoement of the lerenteenth century raged
10 fierce, that in a caie where a remedy win sought
in equity from the proceedings of the Court of King's
Bench, the lawyers who conducted the proceeding, and
a master in Chancery, were indicted fur an onence.
With the assistance of King James, whose legal no-
tions were derived from the civilians, the courts of
aquity triumphed. The great Sir Kdward Coke was
then at the nead of the King's Bench — a man who,
notwithstanding his harsh and tyrannical acts, must
■till be admiied for the bravery with which he sup-
ported the strict administration of the law, however
nigh might be the personage who wished to evade it.
whatever may have been the origin of equity, it be-
came at last a fixed system of law. It is a popular
mistake that a judge in equity gives his decision ac-
oording to what is called 'the general principles of
equity and Justice,' without reference to strict rules.
He is bound down by precedents and rules, and there
are many acts of parliament wbich regulate his pro-
ceedings ; so that in reality equity is but a depart-
ment of the general qrstem of law.

Statute Law.
We have now to speak of the third branch of the
law — statutes, or acts of parliament. The constitu-
tion of the legislature by which they are passed doe*
not belong to the present subject ; it need only be
observed, that to be law, every word of an act requires
to hare the consent of the three branches of the legis-
lature — the sovereign, the lords, and the commons. In
very early times, acts of parliainrnt seem to have been
petitions by the parliament acceded to by the sovereign.
The parliament was convened to supply the king with
money, and while it kept him in suspense, it sometimes
prepared a petition agamst grievances, to which a needy
monarch found it prudent to accede. It became a

firactice for the judges, at the end of a session of par
lament, to convert the substance of the ' petitions,' or
' bills,' which had been acceded to by the king, into
acts. This practice was fraught with manifest danger,
the judges having the power, when parliament had
ceased to sit, of altering the intended provisions. To
remedy this, the plan now followed was adopted, of
making the bill contain the exact words which it was
intended should constitute the act. Singularly enough,
the bill is still in the form of a petition, and when it
is made an act, the only alteration which takes place is,
that the words * May it therefore please your Majesty '
are struck out.

A bill may be introduced either in the House of
Commons or in the House of Lords. It is a rule
that all bills affecting personal station — such as
bills of attainder for treason, bills for naturalising
foreigners, &c. — shall make their first appearance in
the House of Lords. The commons possess the more
substantial privilege of originating all bills of supply,
or for the levying and appropriation of taxes. The
privilege is jealously guarded, and it u usual, should

tha Housa of Lords ammd lucli a luaaMre, for tha
lluusa of Commons to rafusa to take it into oonsidara*
tiou again, and to authorise their spaakar to throw it
over tha table. About aaventy years aj^o, in the caaa
of a bill for the protection of game, the liousa of Lords
thought fit tn raiaa tha peualtiee higher than those
sanctioned by the lower housa, and as tha mousy went
to the exohsouer, the commons considered this au in-
fringement ot their privileges, and acted accordingly.
All measures involving taxation originata in what la
called ' a committee of supply,' in which tha huusa ia

Presumed to be sitting, not to debata great questions,
ut simply to transact pecuniary business. In tha easa
of the introduction of any ordinary bill, amending tha
law, into the House of Commons, the first stage is, to
obtain leave from the house to ' bring it in.' lu the
House of Lords, a member may move a bill without
previously obtaining leave. Uu a bill being brought
in, the next step is the first reading. A iiiemMr moves
that it be read a first time. If thera ba a party in
the huuso bitterly opposed to the principle of the mea-
sure, it may be opposed in this stage, and a debate
and division will of course ensue. If the objections be
merely to the details, they are reserved for a future
opportunity. Un its passing this ordeal, the bill ia
ordered to be printed.

The next and princi. - i ordeal is the second reading,
aA»r which the bill Is referred to a < >mmittee of
the whole house to be examined. In this committee,
as in a (Ximmittee of supply, th( body « the same in
every respect as that whl< V constitutes the Housa of
Commons, but the membei are com ;red as hs ' ig
assembled, not to debate general questions, but to jter
on a business-like examination of the various ol . m
of the measure. When the committee have ( • t. ued
all the clauses, the next formality is, that tht, '.import
to the house, and that their report ^ received. It ia
then moved that the bill be read :!■.> 1 time. This
stage is, in disputed measures, ger >rall^ 'he lost trial
of party strength. If tha third reauing is carried, there
is still another motion, to the effect ' that the bill do
pass,' and this motion is seldom opposed. On the bill
pauing one house, it is conveyed to the other, where
it has to pass through the same succession of readings.
When amendments are made on a bill after it has
passed through one of the houses, in that to which it
IS then sent, it must be re-transi. itted to the house
where it first passed. That house may accede to tha
amendments, and so let the bill pass; or it may reject
the whole measure in consequence of them; or it may,
adhering to its first opinions, hold a conference with
the other house, with a view to a settlement of diffe-
rences. When a bill has passed both houses, its next
step is the royal assent, which may be ^iveu either by
the sovereign personally, or by commission.

A bill that h .\. > '"''xved the royal assent becomes a
law, the operati . > -. i ich commences from the moment
when the conseul >£ adhibited, unless another point of
time be stated in the act. All the statutes of a session
are ranked in order, according to the date at which
they have r*r.eived the royal assent; and the whole set
are distin^/aished from others by the year of the reign
i". whict they have been passed. Technically, the
wl ok legislation of a session is called one act, and
each statute or act, according to the common accep-
tation of the term, is called a chapter of it. The privi-
lege of printing the statutes in their original state,
without note or comment, is reserved to the king's or
queen's printers. In the printed edition of the statutes,
each chapter is divided into sections. This arrange-
ment has been adopted by the printers for convenience
of reference, but in the original copy of the act there
is no such division — the whole is a continuous manu-
script without break. Nor is the division into chapters
even authoritative. The consequence is, that when a
new act is passed, makin| alteration on some part of a
previous one, instead of specifying the chapter and
section that is altered, it describea the act vaguely, as
an act passed in such a session, for such a purpose,

CHAMBERS'S imPORMATIOK B'OB THE PEOPLE.

11iu§, in 1839, an act was paised to alter a section of
the Patents Act, paased in 1837. For any ordinary
purpoie, this would have been called an act to amend
the seventh section of the act 5 and ti William IV.
chapter 83; this would have led to tho exact pomt at
once: but as there are no such things as chapters and
sections known in law, the legislature could only give
a roundabout description, thus—' An act to amend an
act of the fifth and sixth years of the reign of his late
Majesty William IV., intituled an act to amend the
law touching letters-patent for inventions.' Sometimes
there is a series of acts, the latter ones amending those
that have preceded thorn, so that the titles are involved
in almost inextricable confusion. Even where the acts
are divided into sections, as they are by the printers,
it is found very difficult for lawyers to unravel their
meaning, and to unprofessional people they are often
a sealed book. A section generally consists of but one
sentence; and as it Las often to give a long narrative
of things that must be done, independently of circum-
stances, and others that must be done in particular
cases, and others that may be done, but are not im-
perative, and others that must not be done, &c., the
comprehension of the full meaning of the sentence
requires a strong mental effort. Among the statutes,
there are individual sentences which, if printed in the
type and form of an ordinary three- volume novel,
would fill a hundred pages.

There are some acts which are passed every session
in the same terms, such as the Mutiny Act, the indem-
nity for neglecting to take the oaths, &c. Indepen-
dently of these, the statutes now passed in a single
year generally fill a quarto volume of about .500 pages,
very closely printed. Besides these acts, which gene-
rally either apply to the whole empire, or to some one
of the great national divisions of it, there are annually
passed several folio volumes of statutes, called ' Public
Local Acts,' consisting of the police acts of the various
towns, and acts for the construction and management
of harbours, turnpike roads, bridges, gas-works, water-
works, railways, kc. It is by virtue of legislative autho-
rity only that monopolies can be constituted in such
coses, and that individuals can be compelled to sell
their property for the uso of public works. Ucnce,
this is a separate branch of the statute law, comprising
several hundred volumes.

The necessity of consolidating together the various
statutes on different subjects, has from time to time
been felt and expressed by the tiriit legal statesmen of
Britain. Lord Bacon, in whose days the statute law did
not occupy a twentieth part of its present bulk, spoke
with alarm of its overgrown size, and recommended
that the whole ought to be abiidged before it should
become unmanageable. Already something hae been
done. The revenue acts, which occupy a large por-
tion of the statute-book, were partially consolidated
in 1826. About 400 acts relating to the customs, and
similar matters, the prevention of smuggling, regis-
tration of vessels, &c., were repealed, and the new
regulations on the various heads were consolidated
in eight acts. To these acts each subsequent session
has generally made some addition ; but to prevent
confusion from this source, a very simple remedy has
been devised. When there have been several addi-
tions made to an act, a new one is framed, embodying
the whole contents of the old act, as altered by the
nib»9quent ones, and then a^ i ^ ?eviou8 legislation on
the subject is repealed. Thus, in 1833, all the custom-
house acts were a second time consolidated; that is to
say, the acts of lU'iO', with the additions and altera-
tions made to them by later acts, were embodied
together in a set of r.uw acts, so that no one, in con-
sulting the cuEtom-house lasvs, cau ha^'e to go farther
back than 1833.

Measures, we believe, are in active preparation
to extend this principle to other departments. At
this moment there are upwards of 12U stamp-acts in
operation, one of them as old as the reign of William
III. The existence of these confused masses of legis-

lation effectually prevents people from being able to aci
up to the laws, however willing they may be, and their
protection is frequently in other people being equally
Ignorant of the laws that are broken. Invidious inves-
tigations into antiquated laws are thus occasionally
the means of subjecting individuals to ^reat hardships,
by bringing punishment upon them which no foresight
could have averted. Hence the trade of what are
called common informers, whose vindication of the law
has too often the effect of merely heaping calamities
on individuals, instead of producing a uniform obser-
\a,pr^ of the laws. The pursuit is a very unpopular
one; but when laws are in every respect just and good,
it is difficult to see how the enforcement of them can
be other than an advantage; and it would appear to an
unprejudiced stranger to be a somewhat contradictory
practice, first to make laws, and then teach society to
hate and punish those who put them in force. As
society advances in iutellJ!;ence, the necoEsity for the
reform of tho whole system of '".w, and its simplifica-
tion into one comprehensive co-e, will become more
apparent, while the mode of administering the law in
courts will also bo seen to require revision. Every-
thing at present indicates that we are approaching the
point when these important steps nmst be taken.

English Law Courts.

Wo have now to notice the various courts of law
in England. The House of Lords must be men-
tioned as a general court of appeal from the whole
kingdom. There is only one set of superior judica-
tures from which a reference may not come before it
in some form or other — the criminal courts of Scot-
land. The origin of parliament is connected with tho
great council of the feudal kings, which gave thqm
advice both in legislative and judicial matters. Wh^n
parliament was separated into two houses, the judicial
business adhered in general to the up]>er, and, pro-
bably at the instigation of tho bishops, the Lords
adopted the power of administering oaths, which was not
possessed by the Commons — a circumstance which more
distinctly marked their judicial character. To bring
causes which have passed through the hands of learned
judges under the direct cognisance of a body consisting
of clergymen, soldiers, and young men of fashion, would
be too preposterous to bo practically adopted ; and
though the appeal is nominally taken to the House of
Lords, it is heard and decided on -by one of the emi-
nent lawyers, of whom there are always several in the
house, and generally by tho Lord Chancellor. Inde-
pendently of their powers as judges of appeal, the
Peers act as a criminal court in all cases where a peer
of the realm is tried for a capital crime. They are
formed into a temporary tribunal for the occasion, pre-
sided over by a judge called the Lord High Steward.
This official is properly the judge, the peers acting as a
jury, and giving their verdict on the question of guilt.
The directly feudal origin of this rule of ancient prac-
tice will bo at once recognised.

The principal courts of first resort are naturally
divided into courts of common law and courts of
equity. The former are three in number: the King's or
Queen's Bench, the Common Pleas, and the Exchequer.
Each has a chief, and four assistant judges, called
puisne or junior judges. These courts date their origin
to the Conquest. Un feudal principles, the Norman
kings called all the principal causes which had, under
the Saxons, proceeded before the county courts, to be
decided in their own hall, or court, by their own great
council, which was presided over by an officer called
the Justiciar. This court, called the Aula Segis, or
King's Court, at first followed the king's person— a
great inconvenience, removed by Magna Charta, which
fixed it permanently in Westminster. Under Edward I.,
the system was adopted of sending deputations from
the court twice a year to try cases in various parts of
the country. Under the same monarch, the jurisdic-
tion of the court was split into three parts. To the
justiciar, afterwards called Chief- Justice, were assigned

HISTORY OF LAWS.

the pleas of the crown, as they were terraed, involving
all offeucei; and being the highest judicial officer ju
point of rank, his court was appointed to have cog-
nisance over the two others. The matters connected
with the exchequers— namely, the regulation of the
royal domains, the collection of duties and other taxes
— were committed to judges called Barons, presided
over by a Chief- Baron. All questions about the posses-
sion of land, and other litigations between one citizen
and another regarding matters of property, were called
•common pleas,' aJld were committed to certain jus-
tices, presided over by a chief-justice.

The King's or Queen's Bench is thus the chief crimi-
nal court, and the Exchequer is the principal tribunal
for revenue matters; but these courts are by no means
restricted to the departments to which they are so
assigned — they possess, concurrently with the common
plens, a jurisdiction in all ordinary questions of com-
mon law. The manner in which they obtained this
power is one of the most extraordinary circumstances
in the history of the laws of any country. The instru-
ments made use of were, as has been hinted, the fictions,
described as a peculiarity of the English law. To get at
the real motives which were at work, it is necessary to
recollect that formerly not only the judges, but all the
officials connected with the several courts, were paid by
fees, the amount of which depended on the extent ofbusi-
ness. transacted. They were thus like so many trades-
men keeping shops for the sale of justice, each anxious
to keep a large supply of whatever was most wanted,
and to serve the public on the most tempting terms.
In this manner the courts of law undersold the courts
of equity by not demanding any sanction, such as an
oath, for the truth of what litigants declared in their
pleadings. An arduous run for business was carried
on between the three common law courts, the accounts
of which, as given in the legal histories and law-books,
are infinitely grotesque. The extent to which a court
could carry its jurisdiction by these means, depended
less upon reason than upan thf> muscular power of those
officers of the court who enforced its decrees. The
Exchequer, when it attempted to levy taxes, was told
occasionally that the person charged with them could
not pay, by reason that his debtors had not paid what
they owed him; while he hinted that if the Exchequer
wished his money, they had better assist him in reco-
vering it. On this, it became the practice of the Ex-
chequer to assist those who wt e in debt to the crown
to get payment of the tuoney due to them. It occurred
to some ingenious lawyers, em]>loyed to recover debts,
that if they stated to the Court of Exchequer that cer-
tain clients were debtors of the crown, and could not
pay by reason of their own debtors not satisfying their
demands, the court would make very little inquiry into
the truth of the statement, but would adjudicate m the
case, and lev^ the money forthwith. The court made
so little inquiry as to the truth of the case, that it would
not allow the statement to be contradicted, however
inaccurate it might be; and down to the year 18<)'3, when
one brought an action in the Court of Exchequer, it
was a matter of form that he should say he was a debtor
to the king, and that he could not pay his debt, unless
an obligation, incurred in his favour by the defendant,
were fulfilled. The jurisdictior of the King's Bench
was limited to coses that were either purely criminal,
or had some connection with offences. When any one,
however, happened to be in the prison of the King's
Bench for an offence, there was no means cf getting at
him but through that court; and so the plan was de-
vised of stating that a man was in the King's Bench
prison when he was not. ' And in process of time,'
says Blackstone, * it [the Court of King's Bench] began,
by a fiction, to hold plea of all personal actions what-
soever, and has continued to do so for ages: it being
surmised that the defendant is arrested for a sup-
posed trespass, which he never has, in reality, com-
mitted; and being thus in custody of the marshal of
the court, the plaintiff is at liberty to proceed against
him for any other personal Jnjury, which surmise of

being in the marshal's custody the defendant is not at
liberty to dispute.'

These mischievous fictions were not abolished until
the year 1832, when, by act of parliament, a uni-
form process was established in the three common law
courts. An appeal lies from the decision of any one
of these courts to the judges of the other two, who,
when met to decide on such appeals, constitute a court
called the Exchequer Chamber. Fourteen of the fifteen
judges who form these common law courts hold the
assizes in the various county towns — in some of them
twice, and in others thrice a year. Here they act both
as civil and criminal judges. Ofilences committed in
London and its vicinity are tried by a tribunal lately
created, called the Central Criminal Court.

The origin of the authority of equity tribunals has
been already considered. The principal establishment
of this description in England is that of the Chancer^'.
It has in it three distinct courts, and three judges — the
chancellor, the vice-chancellor, and the master of the
rolls. Formerly, all proceedings in bankruptcy centered
with the lord chancellor, but the increasing importance
of this class of business rendered it necessary to appro-
priate a separate court to the purpose. This was accom-
plished in 1832 by Lord Brougham's act. The term
Bankruptcy is in England confined entirely to persons
engaged in commerce; and the jurisdiction of the court
is so limited. Previous to its formation, however, it
had been found expedient to create a court for the
relief of insolvent debtors who might not be engaged
in trade, on their giving up their property to their
creditors. By a, late act for restricting imprisonment
for debt, the practice of relieving insolvent debtors
was improved, nearly on the model of the Scottish
system of cemo, and a bankruptcy code was applied to
debtoi-s who might not be tradesmen. The utility and
importance of the Insolvent Debtors' Court were thus
materially enlarged. Another court was lately brought
into existence, called the Judicial Committee of the
Privy Council. It consists almost entirely of the
judges of the other courts. Its principal jurisdiction
is in appeals from the colonial courts, and the Cou' t
of Admiralty'. This Court of Admiralty has jurisdi :-
tion in maritime contracts, and crimes committed on
the high seas. Having to deal with matters in wl .ch
the inhabitants of this and of other countries are
jointly interested, it professes to follow, not the special
law of England, but the general commercial law of
modem Europe, founded on the Roman law. In time
of war, the court receives a commission to adjudicate
regarding prizes taken from enemies, or from neutrals
committing breaches of neutrality.

Besides the tribunals mentioned, there are ecclesias-
tical courts in the two archiepiscopal provinces of Can-
terbury and York. In the former there are the Court
of Arches, the Prerogative or Testamentary Court, and
the Court of Peculiars; in the latter the Prerogative
Court and the Chancery Court. There are also many
inferior ecclesiastical courts. The chief jurisdiction
exercised by these tribunals, besides questions of eccle-
siastical discipline, is in matters relating to succession
to moveable goods. If we were to complete the list of
English tribunals, it would be necessary to include the
Justices of peace, who, besides many special powers
in revenue and other matters conferred by act of par-
liament, sit, at the general and quarter-sessions, as
judges in minor oflTences. In addition to all these, there
are various courts, of greater or lesser jurisdiction, con-
nected with cities and boroughs; and in some places
establishments called Courts of Requests, for adjudi-
cating in cases of petty debts.

Having thus detailed the legal system of England,
it is unnecessary to describe that of Ireland, which is
almost in all respects a model of it.

English Legal Caagcs,
The legal usages of England, though sanctioned
by inveterate custom, are generally clumsy, expen-
sive, and to all but lawyers, unsatisfactory. The very

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

education of lawyers ,at the inn* of eowt in Lon-
don, where they are supposed to .jceive instruc-
tion, and pursue certain studies, is a burlesque.
The whole machinery of executing writs, or orders
of court, is equally objectionable. Impriaonment of
the person for the sake of safe custody is the ordi-
nary means of enforcing claims in the civil law, and
of punishing in criminal cases. The largest jail for
the reception of debtors is the Queen's Bench prison,
situated in Southwark. From the marshal or governor
of this prison, however, a rule, or permission, may be
obtained on payment, for liberty to go out of the prison
for a day, or to reside within certain exterior bounds.
In other words, a debtor possessing the means (ab-
stracted from his creditors) may, while nominally in
prison, be living at his ease and in the enjoyment of
theeeneral society of the neighbourhood.

lYial by Jury is a remarkable legal usage, which, in
reference to criminal accusation, is of great antiquity,
having its foundation in certain Anglo-Saxon forms fa-
vourable to individual liberty. It is alluded to in Magna
Charta, wherein it is provided that all persons accused
of crimes shall be tried by the judgment of their peers
according to the laws of the re^lm. A jury is there-
fore presumed to consist of persons in a rank as nearly
as possible analagous to that of the party charged with
an offence. Practically, it is composed of individuals
miscellaneous in rank, so as to insure impartiality in
decision. In England, the jury may be said to be of
two species, the grand and the petty jury. The grand
jury consists of twenty-four persons summoned by the
sheriff, to attend the court and present all offences
committed within the county; that is, determine whe-
ther the cases of criminal accusation shall go before
the petty jury. The jury so called examine witnesses
on oath, and receive other evidence; if satisfied that
there are grounds for trial, they find a linte bill, as it is
called, and the trial proceeds. The object of this in-
stitution is to prevent the oppression or damage of
innocent persons; but in practice it is so clumsy as a
method of investigation and deliberation, and so liable
to error from the vast quantity of business to be hur-
ried through, not to speak of being so burdensome to
the lieges, that it would long since have been abolished,
but for the rooted prejudices of the English in favour
of old usages, however absurd and valueless. The
time seems to have arrived when it will require to be
superseded by the more efficient institution of a re-
sponsible public prosecutor.

The petty jury for the trial of those against whom a
true bill is found, consists of twelve men, drawn by lot
from a larger number summoned. This jury is the
sole judge of the fact or facts charged, and its decisions
require to be unanimous. In many instances a jury
cannot conscientiously arrive at an unanimous convic-
tion, in which case either one or more must yield to the
majority; or the whole, after experiencing the pangs of
hunger for one or two days, require to be discharged,
when a new trial must ensue.

Trial by jury is usually considered io be the pala-
dium of our rights and liberties; but thin favourable
view of its character evidently needs modii ition. It
is principally useful as a safeguard against vindictive
attempts at oppression on the part of the crown or other
powerful accusers; yet even in this respect it has on
various occasions proved faulty. If, however, it really
shelters the subject, it can scarcely be said to be capable
in all circumstances of protecting the crown. In Ire-
land, for example, where the English forms of grand
and petty jury have been introduced, it is observable
that there is scarcely a possibility of procuring a con-
viction where the state is the complaining and injured
party, although the facts charged be proved beyond
the possibility of cavil. Thus trial by jury can com-
mand respect only where there is a deep sense of recti-
tude, end a disregard of public clamour.

J/abent Ccrptu. — Only the law, not the sovereign or
any functionary of government, can imprison the per-
■on of a subject, who can reclaim against wrongful or
62

unconstitutional seizure and incarceration by an action
of habeat corpus; that is, an action before a competent
court to be released, or have the custody of his own
person. In periods of civil commotion, the habeas
corpus, as it is called, or power of replevin, is occasion-
ally suspended by an act of the legislature; by which
means the state can imprison without challenge, and
dismiss without trial. As may be supposed, this serious
infringement of the constitution is resorted to only in
extreme coses.

LAW OP SCOTLAND.

From what has been already said, it will bo gathered
that the law of Scotland was chiefly composed of tho
feudal system and the Roman law. The former was
in practice according to the form in which it had
adapted itself to tho peculiar customs of the country,
the latter was taken from the doctrines of the civilians.
The origin and progress of feudalism in cotland are
very obscure. The clironiclers attribute the foundation
of the system to Malcolm II., in the eleventh century,
but with little probability. It is more likely that,
with the resort of foreigners, Saxon and Norman, to the
court of the Scottish king subsequently to the conquest
of England, the system was imperceptibly and gradually
introduced. The monarchs, who were ambitious of
presiding over a distinguished court, gave particular
encouragement to the Normans, to whoit. they granted
large fiefs or lordships; and it was natvral that they
should return the same homage to which they were
accustomed in the country of their origin. The whole
of the Lowlands, indeed, and a great part of the High-
lands, became nearly as thickly adorned with Norman
aristocratic names as the broad plains of England; and
it was this alien aristocracy that submitted with so
much indifference to the claims and encroachments of
Edward I. There appear to have been many points on
which the earlier laws of the two divisions of the island
were identical. In England, however, as we have
already seen, the feudal system received many checks,
while in Scotland it was allowed to grow rank; and the
deference paid to the civil law in the north served to
widen the distinction. The alliance and continued
intercourse with France, moreover, naturally drew the
legal practice in the direction of tho example set by
that country.

There is little information to be derived concerning
the practice of the law in Scotland previous to the six-
teenth century. Edward I. probably destroyed some
vestiges, through which its history might have been
traced; but he seems to have been charged by some
antiquaries with the destruction of more than ever
existed. He did more, probably, by fabrication than
by destruction to poison the sources of Scottish juris-
prudence. Tho earliest alleged collection of the laws,
commonly called the Regiam Majeslalem, bears so near
a resemblance to the English work of Glanvil, noticed
above, that it is naturally supposed to have been a digest,
not of what the laws were, but of what the conqueror
wished them to be. The earliest Scottish legal writer
whose works are quoted is Balfour, who prepared
about the latter end of the sixteenth century, a com-
pendium, chiefly derived from the Regiam Maiestatem,
the acts of parliament, and the decisions of the court.
In the reign of James VI., a commission was appointed
to make inquiry into the laws, of which the celebrated
Sir John Skene was a nieinber. The commissioners
collected and published many acts of parliament, tho
Regiam Majestatem and other consuetudinary laws,
such aa the customs of the royal burghs; and Sir John
Skene wrote an interesting treatise on the meaning of
tecKnical legal expressions.

The first really scientific writer on tho law of Scot-
land, however, was Sir Thomas Craig, whose book on
the feudal law was published in 1655. It is a work of
great learning and thought, in which the reader is
somewhat surprised to find that, though the work pro-
fesses to be a Scottish law-book, it should derive so
much of its learning from the practice of continental

HISTORY OF LAWS.

by an action
a competent
[j of his own
, the habeu
I, is occasion-
re; by which
lalienge, and
I, this serious
ed to only in

1 be gathered
posed of the
e former was
rhicb it Lad

the country,
the civilians,
cotlaud are
le foundation
snth century,

likely that,
irman, to the
the conquest
nd gradually
ambitious of
'e particular
they granted
al that they
h they were
The whole
of the High-
rith Norman
ngland; and
tted with so
mchments of
.ny points on
of the island
as we have
aany checks,
nk ; and the
th served to
i continued
lly drew the
mple set by

1 concerning
s to the six-
Toyed some
; have been
;ed by some
! than ever
ication than
ottish juris-
of the laws,
tears so near
ivil, noticed
een a digest,
e conqueror
legal writer
10 prepared
ury, a com-
Mujestatem,
f the court.
8 appointed
B celebrated
nmisaioners
lament, the
inary laws,
nd Sir John
meaning of

aw of Scot-
se book on
is a work of
e reader is
e work pro-
d derive so
continental

nations. The ne.xt great authority is Lord Stair,
the equivocal statesman of the reign of James VII.,
whose Institute, on the model of that of Justinian, is
remarkable for the breadth of its legal principles, and
the acuteness with which they are practically applied.
Soon after the middle of the eighteenth century, a
second Institute was prepared by Mr Erskine, professor
of Scottish law, more suited to the knowledge of the age
than that of Stair, but more dry and formal. Sir Walter
Scott has justly denominated Erskine's Institute the
Scottish * Coke upon Lyttleton,' There were formerly
few opportunities of acquiring a legal education in Scot-
land, and it was the practice for the youth studyine the
Scottish law to repair to ono of the continental univer-
sities, among which Leyden and Paris were preferred.
On the occasion of the appointment to a chair of law
in Aberdeen, in the seventeenth century, Spalding the
Chronicler says, it was * strange to see ane man ad-
mitted to teach the lawes, who was never out of the
countrie studieing and learning the lawes ; ' thus ex-
pressing his astonishment that any man could be pre-
sumed to become acquainted with a system of law on
the spot where it is administered. The civil law is still

Erofessedly studied in Scotland, but its ancient influence
as sunk beneath the progress of commerce, and the
increase of statutory regulations, which compel the
lawyer to spend much of his time with acts of parlia-
ment and reports of decisions.

Scotland has a considerable quantity of early statute
law, but not nearly so much as England. Down to the
time of the Revolution, the general principles only of
the acts had the assent of the assembled parliament —
the details were all prepared by a committee called the
Lords of the Articles. The older acts are remarkable
for their brevity and precision, in which respects they
greatly excel the clumsy and wordy acts of parliament
of the United Kingdom, which, since the ITnion, has
legislated for Scotland, often with little regard to the
peculiarities of Scottish practice. According to a usage
derived from the civil law, acts of parliament become
repealed by disuse in Scotland, technically, get into
desuetude — a principle unknown in English laAv.

The earliest superior tribunals in Scotland, were
either the parliament, as the king's great council, or a
committee of it, acting with the delegated powera of the
whole body. There was likewise, as in England, a
kine's justiciar, whose authority was vast, and not very
welt defined, especially in criminal matters. Committees
of parliament were, in the fifteenth and the beginning
of the sixteenth century, sometimes formed into regulai-
courts of justice, in which, however, a certain degree
of fluctuation could not be avoided. In 1532, the pre-
sent Court of Session was constituted, on the ntodel, it
is believed, of the parliament of Piiris. The chancellor,
whose principal duties disappeared at the Union, was
chairman of this body. It consisted of fifteen judges in-
cluding a president, who was chairman in absence of the
chancellor. In 1830, the number of judges waS reduced
to thirteen ; and about the same time, the authority of
some other tribunals, the chief of which were the Courts
of Admiralty and Exchequer, was transferred to the
Court of Session. It consists of two divisions, which
are separate tribunals. Some of the judges also act as
individual judges in courts of their own, in which capa-
city they are termed * lords ordinary.' An ordinary
case, on coming into court, is discussed before a lord
ordinary, from whose decision there is a reference to
one of the divisions of the ' Inner House,' as it is
termed, where the remaining judges sit collectively.
From them there is an appeal to the House of Lords.
There is no such conventional distinction as that between
law and equity known in Scotland, and hence English
lawyers, who are apt to measure all other systems by
their own, absurdly enough speak of the Court of Ses-
sion OS a court 'both of law and equity.' Besides the
usual adjudication of litigated cases, there are two very
useful descriptions of action peculiar to this court. The
one is called an action of ' declarator,' which a person
who ii puzzled about any difficulty, and is afraid of

committing an illegal act, may bring, to havo the law
as to the point declared, and his course of action made
plain ; another is called a ' multiplepoinding.' which
may be raised by a man having money in hi« hands
which more than one person is claiming, that he n)ay
know to whom he can legally pay it. Trial by jury was
not, until very lately, added to the jurisdiction of this
court. It is limited to certain descriptions of cases,
and is far from popular.

The judges in the Court of Session, the advocates or
barristers, the writers to the signet or practising attor-
neys, and other functionaries, form an institution styled
the College qf Juttice.

The principal criminal court is the Court of Justiciary,
consisting of seven of the judges of the Court of Session,
who sit in Edinburgh, and commission some of their
number to hold circuits in the country. The most
remarkable peculiarity in Scottish legal usages, is the
practice of criminal prosecution, which is clear, simple,
and effective. All crimes of a high class are prose-
cuted at the instance of the Lord Advocate, or chief
public prosecutor, at the expense of the country.
Lesser crimes are prosecuted by Proeuratm-a Fiscal, of
whom one is attached to each sheriffdom. In no case is
the party injured put to any trouble or expense. The
Lord Advocate, who is appointed by the crown, along
with crown-counsel, alone judge of the propriety of pro-
secuting for crimes, there being no grand j ury. The j ury
before whom cases ibr trial are brought consists of fifteen
persons selected by lot from forty -five summoned jurors,
and ihe decision or verdict is by a majority. Th" " ' '
tish criininal law is partly statute, partly fnunde
long usage. There are many offences which, b' '
latter portion of the law, are punishable with dent, f
the prosecutor do not restrict the extent of punishi \.t
to be awarded, which he now does in almost every case
except murder. The sheriffs, or local judges of coun-
ties, have important judicial powers, both civil and
criminal. The former extends to every description of
dispute regarding property, except what refers to land.
The powers of these judges have lately received exten-
sive additions, especially .'n matters of insolvency and
bankruptcy. They do not employ a jury, except in
criminal cases, in which their power of inflicting punish-
ment does not exceed imprisonment. The slieriffa of
the Scottish counties are advocates, practising before
the supreme courts, not honorary functionaries, as in
England. In each county there is, besides, a resident
sheriff, or shmff-subatitute, who issues warrants and
holds civil and criminal courts. To this useful class
of functionaries Scotland is much indebted.

In Scotland, there is a usage as absurd as that of
granting rides in the Queen's Bench prison. A debtor
from any part of the United Kingdom may take the
benefit of sanctuary in Ilolyrood, a suburb of Edin-
burgh, including some fine open grounds. While in
this sanctuary, and having a written protection, pro-
curable for a fee, the debtor is sheltered against all
writs for civil claims, those of the state alone excepted;
and he is at liberty to quit this sanctuary during the
whole twenty-four hours of Sunday. This is the last
existing relic of the privilege of sanctuary in Britain,
perhaps in Europe,

There has latterly been some indications of the assi-
milation of the le^al usages of Scotland to those of
England, and it is highly desirable that an end should
speedily be put to all existing diversities.

THE FRENCH CODES,

The ancient laws of France were a mixture of the
civil, feudal, and canon law. Partly they were the
doctrines of the authorities on the civil law, and partly
they were the ordinances issued by the various mo-
narchs. By far the greatest portion, however, in bulk,
consisted of the peculiar feudal customs of the various
provinces. In these the feudal system was sometimes
retained in so iiigh a state of purity, that the collections
of provincial customs are esteemed excellent authorities
on the subject. But it was not merely in each province

CHAMBERS'S IKFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

that there was a local custom. The power of the crown,
or any other paramount legislature, was so feeble, that
wherever an assembly of men were held together by one
common tie, as where they were co-vaasals of one lord,
or members of the same civic community, they had in
some measure a code of laws of their own. The royal
codes, which existed en a large scale, are estimated at
about 300, but of the number of inierior local customs
it would be impossible to make an estimate. Voltcire
observes, that a man travelling through his country has
to change laws as often as he has to change horses, and
that the most learned barrister in one villnge will 'a a
complete ignoramus a few miles off. The seiguorial
courts were divided into three grades, according to the
extent of the penal authority exercised by them. The
principal courts of law were the purliaments of the re-
spective provinces. Seats in them were generally hr'd
by purchase, or were in the hereditary sucoessii f
great families, who thus constituted a species of pro-
fessional nobility. The deciees of these bodies 'rrtc i

Such were the laws issued under the government of
Napoleon, commonly called Les Cinq Coats, or the Five
Codes. There are other collections of regulations, which
should be added to make up a complete body of French
laws — a military code, issued by Wapoleou; regulations
CQnceming woods and forests, issued under Charles X. ;
various laws as to the press and theatrical exhibitions,
and alterations of the penal code, issued under the
government of Louis-Philippe ; and lastly, the enact-
ments under the existing republic. It is simply iu
the Five Codes, however, passed under Napoleon, and
confirmed at the Restoration, that the modern laws of
France are known to Europe at large. They are gene-
rally published in a small, thick, closely-printed volume ;
and for the conciseness, clearness, and elegance of their
language, and their intrinsic merits, they are a favou-
rite sutyect of study with many British lawyers, while
there are few places in civilised Europe in which the^
are not generally known. Independently of the divi-

,. , sion into books and sections, the paragraphs in each

often baffled or reversed by the royal authority, -.xer- ! ';odc are numbered straight on from the commence-

cised in the weli-known form of leUre* de cachet. « iiee;.
alterations of the decisions of the courts, however, were
performed not as a judicial revision, but by the simple
authority of the king; and thus the parliaments, being
subject to no judicial control or responsibility, adhered
but slightly to fixed rules of law, and often acted accord-
ing to their o>vn will and discretion. The jury, even
ao much of it as may have existed under the old feudal
form, had entirely disappeared, and proceedings were
conducted iu secret. Criminal investigations, instead
of tenninating in a conclusive trial as in England, were
protracted through a lingering succession of written
pleadings and secret investigations, from which the
accused could never calculate on being free. The tor-
ture was extensively employed; but in the general case,
, only when there was as much circumstantial evidence
as would justify a conviction in this country.

The whole of this system was swept suddenly away
before the tide of the Ilevoluti- ', but amid the troubled
times that succeeded, it was long ere rulers could find
peace and leisure for the erection of a substitute. In
1800, Naprleon appointed a commission to draw up a
project of a civil code. The project when prepared
was circulated for comment and suggestion, and was
afterwards, along with the observations made on it by
the difierent courts of law, discussed in the council of
state and the tribunate. Thus was formed the Code
Civil, or civil code of France, more generally known
by the term Code Napoleon, whicli was applied to it
under the Empire. Nearly at the same time, and in the
same manner, was framed the Code de Proccdwe Civile,
or code for regulating the form of process in civil
actions, and specifying the jurisdictions of the various
courts. Deing a subject more connected with technical
detail, and involving less of general principle than the
civil code, its provisions weiti left almost entirely to the
arrangement of the lawyers. Resides the technical
directions in which lawyers aro'almost wholly interested,
there are in this manual many which concern the ordi-
nary proceedings of citizens at large, such a« directions
for the order to be taken regarding th6 effects of a de-
ceased person, &c. This code is generally accompanied
by a table of fees in law proceedings. In 1U07, another
code was promulgated, called the Cods de Commerce,
consisting of (iHi sections. This is the commercial code
of France, regulating partnership, bills and notes,
banking, shipping, bankruptcy, ic. Dv this code pro-
vision is made for merchants choosing boards or courts
from among their own number, called Trilmneauai de
Commerce. The jurisdiction of these courts, which are
very numerous, extends to questions between mer-
chants, and disputes arising out of commercial trans-
actions. In criminal legislation, a different order was
pursued from that adopted in the "ivil ; the procedure
code was prepared and adopted before the crimes to
which it was to apply, and the punishments it was to
enforce, were defined. The Code d'Irulruction Criminelle
was promulgated in 11(08, and the Coiie I'liuil in 1810,
64

niont, an arrangement which gives peculiar facilities
for reference. Thus there are in the civil code 2281
consecutively numbered paragraphs. In a country
where the material of the law is so gigantic as it is in
England, it is of the highest interest to mark the prac-
tical working of this grand effort at simplification. , To
an unlearned person in this country, it is a much easier
thing to know the law of France on any particular
point, than the law he is living under. If an English
law}-er is asked a question, his answer involves refe-
rences to commentaries, decisions, and statutes innu-
merable ; but in the general case, the answer of a
French lawyer bears simple reference to such a para-
graph of such a code.

The Frencli codes adopt the phraseology of the
Roman law and many of its principles. The most
striking deviation from the previous law of France, and
the present system of other countries, is perhaps in the
rules respecting succession. The children succeed to
equal shares of the parents' property, whether it consist
of land or movables ; and if there be no legiwiuate
children, illegitimate children may succeed. The parent
is limited in the disposal of his property by will. Ho
can only bequeath the half if ho have one legitimate
child, and the third if he have two. Kestrictious
suincwhat similar arc to be found iu other countries
with respect to movable property, but not as to land.
The effect which the extensive partition, naturally
occasioned by this law, has effected, and may effect,
in France, is a subject of great interest to political
economists. In the mercantile law there are several
provisions unknown in this country, such as registers
for hypothecs or securities held over movable goods
or merchandise, and docieties ' en commandite,' or
partnerships in which certain managing members are
responsible for the obligations of the company to the
extent of their whole property, while the sleeping part-
ners who advance money are not raspousible l)eyond
the .-unount of their shares. The chief improvement
in the criminal law effected during the Revolution, and
sanctioned by the code of instruction, was jury trial,
to which Napoleon was much opposed: the system, as
finally settled, bore more resemblance to the Scottish
than to the English form, prosecutions being conducted
by public prosecutors, there being no grand jury, and
the jury of final trial deciding by a minority. In other
respects, the criminal law is more remarkable for its
austerity than for its subserviency to the general good
of the public. With Napoleon, though that object
was not neglected, it wivs made secondary to the con-
solidation of his own power; and offences are measured
less by their pernicious effects on society at large, than
by the trouble or danger they might occasion to lulcrs.
lience was adopted in many cases the stern and simple
method of putting arbitrary power over criminals into
the hands jf the administrators of the law, while
punishments of the highest Kind were reserved for
offences against the authorities.

HISTORY OF ANCIENT NATIONS.

of the

As the memory of a man extends back only to some
point in his early boyhood, so the memory of our race
extends back only to about 3000 years from the present
(late, leaving an indefinite space before that, during
which the infancy of the species must have been trans-
acted. Nor does the Scriptural account of the cre<>tiuu
settle this point. As many as two hundred different
calculations as to the age of our species have been
founded, by different divines, on the statements of the
sacred records — the discrepancy arising from the un-
certainty of those te^tts of the Old Testament in which
numbers occur. The longest of these calculations dates
the crertiou of man at about 8800 years from the pre-
sent tit.ie, or about 7000 years befo.'e the birth of
Christ; the "hciiest at alwut 5300 years from the pre-
sent time, or 3500 years !)efore the bi.tli of Christ ; *.he
system usually adopted by histoiians is that of Arch-
bishop Usher, which fixes the event at b,c. 4004, or
5853 years from the present date.

The general consent of mankind points to the region
of Central Asia as having been the original seat from
which the human race dispersed itself over the globe;
and accordingly it is this region, and especially the
western portion of it, which wo find to have been the
theatre of the earliest recorded transactions. In short,
it was in Central Asia that the first large mass of
ripened humanity was accumulated — a great central
nucleus of human life, so to speak, constantly en-
larging, and from which emissaries incessantly streamed
out over the globe in all directions. In process of
time this great central mass having swollen out till
it filled Asia and Africa, broke up inti three frag-
ments — thus giving parentage to the three leading
varieties* into which ethnographers divide the human
species — the Caucasian, the Mongolian, and the Ethio-
pian or Negro — the Caucasians overspreading southern
and western Asia; the Mongolians overspreading north-
ern and eastern Asia; and the Ethiopian overspreading

♦ In tho Physical HisTonv op Man (No. B1), wo admitted
tlio live varieties as doscrllvd Iiy niumonbach — namely, tho
C'uiieaBian, MnngoUnn, Ktliiopian, Malay, and American; but
in ns far as the xoclul or lii»torical proKrosa of tho race is con-
corncd, the two latter may bo connidored as hnvlns no oxistonco.
No. 55.

Africa. From these three sources streamed forth
branches which, intermingling in various proportions,
have constituted the various nations of the earth.

Differing from each other L physiological character-
istics, the three great varieties of tho human species
have differed also widely in their historical career.
The germs of a grand progressive development seem to
have been implanted specially in the Caucasian Variety,
the parent stock of all the great civilised nations of
ancient and modem times. History, therefore, con-
cerns itself chiefly with this variety: in the evolution
of whose destinies the true thread of human progress is
tc bo found. Ere proceeding, however, to sketch the
early development of this highly - endowed variety of
our species in the nations of antiquity, a few observa-
tions may bo offered regarding tho other two — tho
Ethiopian and Mongolian — whi jh began the race of life
along with the Caucasian, and whose destinies, doubt-
less, whatever may have been their historical functions
hitherto, are involved in some profound and beautiful
manner with the bearing of the race as a whole.

ETHIOPIAN OR NEGRO lIISTOnY.

A Cennan historian thus sums up all that is known
of Ethiopian history — that is, of the part which the
great Negro race, inhabiting all Africa with the excep-
tion of the north-eastern coasts, performed in the gene-
ral affairs of mankind in the early ages of the world:—
' On the history of this division of the species two
remarks may be made : the one, that a, now entirely
extinct knowledge of the extension and power of this
branch of the human family must have been forced
upon even the Greeks — their early poets and historians;
the other, that the Ethiopian history is interwoven
throughout with that of Egypt. As regards the first
remark, it is clear that in t 'j earliest ages this branch
of the race must have played an important part, since
Meroe (in the present Nubia) is mentioned both by
Herodotus (o. c. 408) and Strabo (a. d. 20) ; by the one
as a still-existing, by the othe> as a formerly-existing
seat of royalty, and centre of the Ethiopian religion
and civilisation.* To this Strabo adds, that the race

* Some years ago, a traveller, Mr O. A. Ilosking, visited tho
site of this capital state of ancient Ethiopia, an island, if it may
be 80 called, ..bout 300 miles long, enclosed within two forking
branches of the Nile. Ho found in it several distinct groups
of magniilccnt pyramidal structures. Of ono ruin he says —
' Never woro my feelings inoro ardently excited than in ap-
proaching, after so tedious a journey, to this magnlflcent nccro-
I>olis. Tho appearance of tho pyramids in tho distaneo on-
nuunccd their importance ; but I was gratified beyond my most
sanguine cxpoetations when I found myself in the midst of
thorn. T!io pyramids of Oizch are magnittcent, wonderful from
their stupendous magnitude; but for picturesque offeot and
cleganeo of architectural design, I inflnitely prefer those of
Meroo. I expected to find few such remains here, and certainly
nothing BO imposing, so interesting, as these sopulehree, doubt-
less of the kings and queens of Etliiopio. I stood for some time
lost in admiration. This, then, was the necropolis, or city of tlio
dead! But where was the city itself, Meroo, its temples and
palares ? A large space, about 2000 feet in length, and tho samo
distance from the river, strewed with burnt brick and with
some fragments of walls, and stones bimllar to those used in tho
erection of tho pyramids, formed, doubtless, part of that cele-
brated site. The idea that this is the exact situation of tho city
is strengthened by the remark of Strabo, that tho walls of tho
habitations were built of bricks. These indicate, without doubt,
tho site of that cradle of the arts which distinguish a civilised
from a barbarous soelot]'. Of t\e birthplace of tho arts and
Bclenoes, tho wild natives of tho adjacent villages have made a
miserable burylng-placo : of the city of the learned — " its eloud-
ciipt towers," Its "gorgeous palaces," its "solemn temples,"

C/IAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

■preiKi from tUj boiin-Iaries 0/ Keypt over the moun-
taiui of At'.Ab, as <tti- ax the Ga 'i ; tiian Straits. Epho-
ruB, 10 (b. c. 406), seems to littva had a very great
imprtii'txiou of the power of the irithiopions, since he
names iu the en;!', (he Indiana, in tlie south the Et'il.i-
plans, ill the vrtsi the Celts, in Ihe i>>rtK the b. vthiu.n,,
as the most mighty and numerous peoples of th« knowh
earth. Already in Strabo-s time, however, their ancien?
power had been gone fur an indefinite period, and tku
Negro states found themselves, arier Meroe had ceated
to be a religious capital, almost in the same fituutiun
iM that in which they still continue. The second re-
mark on the Negro branch of the human race and its
history, can only be fully elucidated '.vhon the interpre-
tation of the inscriptions on Egyptiaii monuments shall
have been farther advanced. The latest travels iin'o
Abyssinia show this much — that at one time the Egyi'-
tiau religion and civilisation extended over the prin-
cipal seat of the northern Negroes. Sing'o iiiuiMiniod
and monumental figures corroborate what iierodotus
expre<isl^ says, that a great portion of the Kgypciaiii<
of his time had black skins and wooiiy hair ; hence
we infer that the Negro rc<c^) had combined itself iuti-
vaately with the Caucasian part of the population.
Not there notices only, but the express testimu: ies
also of the fUlin.* annals, show Egypt to have con- j
tained an abuii'lance of Negroes, and mention a coji ■
quering kii..' invading it at the head of a Negro host,
and goveniiijg it fv>r a considerable time. Tbn S)ature
of the HI "ount-i '.;i which we riust found dues nol
permit ud ti. jT've as. acciiras.i statement; we vomark,
however, thai the Indiiius, the Kgyptians, ftiid the
Babylonians, are not iho only ■ . 'tdes which aimed at
becoming world-conquerors befo :- ! Le his'.'^ri': iige, but
that also to the Kthiopiau stocK w;^.Iiki: i^iwgs wen-
iiot wanting in cho aarly timesi. T;.') jMmh^o';! tiloiie
■eem to have enjoyed a happy repose «':''.iu their :<>vn
■eats in iiie primitive hiatoiiu tiiiwn, 'v.i;' thise ante-
cedent to tiiiiiu ; they api'uai iiriit very i itt- as oouqucrurs
and destroyere in the historv i,t' Ihc went. If, indeed,
the hero-king of the Ethiopi.^ns, lcari;h;>, were one and
the same with the Tirhakah of the Book of Kings
(2 King*, xix. 9), then the wonder of those stories would
disappear which were hv tided down by tradition to the
O'leeks; but even Bochau kas combated this bolief, and
we eunnot reconcile it with the circumstances which
ar« r.,'A\ted of both. It remiinis for us only to observe,
by wav of summary, that in aa age antecedent to the
histork'. the Ethiopian peoples may have been asso-
ciated togother in a more regular manner than in our
or Orecian .■r.d Roman times; and that their distant
expeditions ij:vv have been so formidable, both to the
Europeans as tar as the i^gean Sea in the east, and to
'<he dwellers on the Qaditanian Straits (Uibraltar) on
the west, that the dim knowledge of the fact was not
lost even in late times. In more recent agos we ob-
&<>rve ht-i-e and there an Ethiopian influence, and espe-
tiilly ii the Egyptian history; but as concerns the
general progress of the human species, the Negro race
never acquired any vital importance.'*

The foregoing observations may be summed up in
th's proposition : — That in the most remote antiquity,
Africa was over«prea('. by the Negro variety of the hu-
man species; that >a those parts of the continent to
which the knowledge of the ancient geographers did
not extend — namely, all south of Egypt and the Great
Desert — the Negro race degeneratcu, or at least dispersed
into tribes, kingdoms, &c. constituting a great savage
■ystem within its own torrid abode, similar to that
which even now, in the adult age of the world, we are
vainly attempting to penetrate; but that on the coasts
of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, the race either

there Is " left not a rack behind." The aepulchras alone of hor
departed kings have Aiinilod their destination of surviving the
habitations which their phlk'suphy taiight tlieni to cuDsider but
as inag, nnd nre now laiit inoulderliiK into duHt. Hcurecly a
tmco of a palace or a t«mp)e i«to be seen.'

• Schloucr'i (F. C.) UnivenalhlstoTiKhe Vebersicht dcr
Qcschlchto der Altcn Welt und ihror Cultur.
6«

preserved its c, „ nal faculty and intelligence longer,
or was so improved by contact and intermixture with
its Caucasian neighbours, as to constitute, under the
name of the Ethiopians, one of the great anti-historic
dynasties of the world; and that this dynasty ebbed
and flowed against the Caucasian populations of
western Asia and eastern Europe, thus giving rise to
mixture of races along the African coasts of the north
and east, until at leneth, leaving these mixed races to act
their part awhile, the pure Ethiopian himself retired
from historic vicw_ into Central Africa, where he lay
concealed, till again in modern times he was dragged
for'./, to become the slave of his Ca>ioa*i.u\ brotliev.
Thus Negro history, hitherto, has exlioid.il a lotmj.'r-t'.i-
sion from a point once occupied, rath .r tHua a pro.;;rt'»f,
in clvilisAUon. Even this fact, lu n .,vev, r/.ust som^t..
how be subordinate to a great law \n' ge'.<..iit otogretir,
and it is gratifying to know that, oti Uici :,<,r.:.it if Afric.i,
a settlement has recently been foriii :d culleJ l.iheria,
peopled b» libereUid negi" slaves ft"i;; N >rt;« ^...leriv..;
and who, bringing with tueii the Aigl'-Amtncan i vi-
iisation, give pr 'luiso of foriidinf a cilured and pros-
peromooniPiuiii'y.

KOKtKiI, l.i HISTOHY— TUB CHINESE.

A> from the grnat central mass of mr,.\kind, the first
acoumulation of life on tu; nlsvnet, ti^eie was partf ■! -jtY
iuon AAriot a fragiufint oalltd the Nc^ro rariety, eo iiito
eastevii Asia there .vav detached, ly i.hv>de cau.'«s which
we seek in vain to disooroi', a si tin.j hu«* iii»Uii' ; ''.0
which has been given t*:^' iii.-ua of Sv Mon^^ '■. 'i
variety. Ovenpreitding ti'; gnht plains ei Asia, from
fhe lilmalehs to tLe Sea <>f Ukiiot.ik, thiii detach-
ment of the human species may he supposed to have
(i-oKsed into Japan; to have reoclied the other islands
of the Pacific, and cither throu^jh these, or by the
access at Oehring's Straits, tc have poured themselves
through the great American contiiient; their peculiari-
ties shading otf iu their long joui'.'ivy, till the Mongolian
was converted into the American isidian. Blumenbach,
however, erects the American j'i<ilau into a type by
himself, as already shown in No. .' ! .

Had historians been able to puisue the Negro race
into their central African junglet and deserts, they
would no doubt have found the geu>Tal Ethiopic matis
breaking up there under the operatitjii of causes con-
nected with climate, soil, food, &c. iiit<> vast sections or
subdivisions, presenting marked diflferences from each
other; and precisely so was it with the Moiigolia..8.
In Central Asia, we find them as Thibetiaus, Tun-
gusiaus, Mongols proper ; on the eastern coasts, as
Mantchous and Chinese; in the adjacent islands, as Ja-
panese, &c.; and nearer the North Pole, as Laplanders,
Esquimaux, &c. ; all presenting peculiarities of their
own. Uf these great Mongolian oranches circumstances
have given a higher d^ree of development to the
Chinese 8. id the Japanese than to the others, which
are chiefly nomadic hordes, some under Chinese rule,
others independent, roaming over the great pasture
lands of Asia, and employed in re.\ring cattle.

There is every reason to believe that the vast popu-
lation inhabiting that portion of eastern Asia called
China, can boast of a longer antiquity of civilisation
than almost any other nation of the world; a civilisa-
tion, however, differing essentially in its character from
those which have appeared and disappeared among the
Caucasians. This, in fact, is to be observed as the
grand diflerence between the history of the Mongolian
and that of the Caucasian variety of the human speciea,
that whereas the former presents us with the best pro-
duct of Mongolian humanity, in the form of one great
permanent civilisation — the Chinese — extending from
century to century, one, the same, and solitary, through
a period of 30UU or 4000 years ; the latter exhibit'^
a succession of civilisations — the Chaldtean, the Per-
sian, the Grecian, the Roman, the modem European
(subdivided into French, English, German, Italian,
&c.), and the Anglo-American; these civilisations, from
the remotest Oriental — that is, Choldeeau — to the most

HISTORY OF ANCIENT NATIONS.

ifenco longer,
mixture with
e, under the
anti-hiscorio
^nasty ebbed
pulations of
^ivini; riae to
of tuo north
id races to act
inself retired
ivhere he lay

I was dragged
.«i u\ brothM".

II ii a pco^ress
, tj.uBt aoiuO'
L;(il orogrotii;
*i:it 'if AtHcv,
»Ued l.iheria,
)rt!« ^Meriv.-...;
.nii.Tican t -.vi-
red and proa-

SE.

kind, the first
ivas part* •! -JY
kriely, eo into
cai>Hei wUich
'■ i;'i«uii*' ; ''^0
.f Monfi li..a
ci Alia, from
tb<ii detach-
losed to have
other islands
e, or by the
:d themselves
leir peculiari-
he Mongolian
Blumenbach,
,0 a type by

ie Negro race
deserts, they
Dthiopic mass
f causes con-
ist sections or
es from each
Mongolia..s.
letiauB, Tun-
rn coasts, as
slunds, as Ja-
i Laplanders,
itics of their
;ircumstances
[ueut to the
jthers, which
Chinese rule,
reat pasture
Ule.

le vast popu-
i Asia called
f civilisation
d; a civilisa-
laracter from
^d among the
erved as the
e Mongolian
iman specie^,
the best pro-
of one great
ending from
ary, tHrou|;h
ttur exhibit'^
an, the Per-
m European
an, Italian,
satioDS, from
-to the uiost

recent occidental — that it, the Anglo-Amerioan — ^being
a series of waves falling into each other, and driven
onward by the same general force. A brief sketch of
Chinese history, with a glance at Japan, will therefore
discharge all that we owe to the Mongolian race.

Authentic Chinese history does not extend farther
back than about UOO or lUUO years n.c; but, as has
been the case more or less with all nations, the Chinese
imagination had provided itself with a mythological
history extending many ages back into the unknown
past. Unlike the mythology of the Oreeks, but like
that of the Indians, the Chinese legends deal in large
chronological intervals. First of all, in the begin-
ning of time, was the great Puan-Koo, the founder of
the Chinese nation, and whose dress was green leaves.
After him came Ty-en-IIoang, Ti-Hoang, Oin-Hoang,
and several other euphonious potentates, each of whom
did something great towards the building up of the
Chinese nation, and each of whom reigned, as was the
custom in these grand old times, thousands of years.
At length, at a time corresponding to that ass'ijned in
Scripture to the life of Noah, uame the divine -bom
Fohi, a man of transcendent facuiiica, 7ho reigned 115
years, teaching music and the system of symbols, insti-
tuting marriage, buildbg walls round cities, creating
mandarins, and, in short, estabi'-hing the Chinese na-
tion on a basis that could never be haken. After him
came Shin-ning, Whang-ti, jcc. until in due time came
the good emperors Yao and Shun, in the reign of the
latter of whom happened a great flood. By means of
canals and drains the assiduous Yu saved the country,
and became the successor of Shun. Yu was the first
emperor of the Ilia dynasty, which began tibout 2100
B. c. After this dynasty came that of Shang, the last
of whose emperors, a great tyrant, was deposed (b.c.
1 122) by Woo-wong, the founder of the Tchow dynasty.

In this Tchow dynasty, which lasted upwards of
(!00 years, authentic Chinese history commences. It
was during it, and most probably about the year
B. c. 484, that the great Con-l'u-tse, or Confucius, the
founder of the Chinese religion, philosophy, and litera-
ture, flourished. In the year B.C. 248, the Tchow
dynasty was superseded by that of Tsin, the first of
whose kings built the Great Wall of China, to de-
fend the country against the Tartar nomads. The
Tsin dynastv was a short one: it was succeeded in
B.C. 20ti by the Han dynasty, which lasted till a. d. 238.
Then followed a rapid series of dynastic revolutions,
by which the nation was frequently broken into parts ;
and during which the population was considerably
changed in character by the irruptions of the nomad
hordes of Asia who intermingled with it. Early in the
seventh century, a dynasity called that of Tang acceded
to power, which ended in 897. After half a century
of anarchy, order was restored under the Song dynasty,
at the commencement of which, or about the year 050,
the art of printing was discovered, five centuries before
it was known in Europe. • The Song dynasty,' says
Schlosser, ' maintained an intimate connection with
Japan, as contrary to all Chinese maxims; the empe-
rors of this dynasty imposed no limits to knowledge,
the arts, life, luxury, and commerce with other nations.
Their unhappy fate, therefore (on being extinguished
with circumstances of special horror by the Mongol
conqueror Kublai Khan, a.d. 1281), is held forth as a
warning against departing a hairsbreadth from the old
customs of the empire. From the time of the destruc-
tion of the Song dynasty by the Mongol monarchy, the
intercourM between China and Japan was broken,
until again the Ming, a native Chinese dynasty (a.d.
1 366) restored it. The Mongol rulers made an expedi-
tion against Japan, but were unsuccessful. The unfor-
tunate gift which the Japanese received from China
was the doctrine of Foe. This doctrine, however, was
not the first foreign doctrine or foreign worship that
ciime into China. A religion, who^e nature we cannot
fix — probably Buddhism, ere it had assumed the form
of Lnmaism — was preached in it at an earlier date.
About the time of the Tsin dynasty (b.c. 248-206), a

warlike king had incdrporated all China into one, and
subdued the princes of the various prorinces. While
he was at war with his subjects, mary of the rovine
hordes to the north of China pressed into the land, and
with them appeared missionaries of the religion above-
mentioned. When peace was restored, the kings of
the fore-named dynasty, as also later those of Han and
the two following dynasties, extended the kingdom
prodigiously, and the western provinces became known
to the Greeks and Romans as the land of the Zerer.
As on the one side Tartary was at that time Chinese,
so on the other side the Chinese were connected with
India; whence came the Indian religion. It procured
many adherents, but yielded at length to the primitive
habits of the nation. In consequence of the introduc-
tion of the religion of Foe, the immense country fell
asunder into two kingdoms. The south and the north
had each its sovereign; and the wars of the northern
kingdom occasioned the wanderip;,8 of the Huns, by
whose agency the Roman Kinpir":, was destroyed. These
kingdoms oi the north and sor.ch were often afterwards
united and again dissevered ; great savage hordes
roamed around them as at present; but all that had
settled, and that dwelt within the Great Wall, sub-
mitted to the ancient Chinese civilisation. Ghenghis
Khan, indeed, whose power was founded on the Turkish
and Mongol races, annihilated both kingdoms, and the
barbaric element seemed to triumph ; but this was
changed as soon as his kingdom was divided. Even
Kublai, and yet more his immediate followers, much as
the Chinese calumniate the Mongol dynasty of Yeven,
maintained everything in its ancient condition, with
the single exception that they did homage to Lamaism,
the altered form of Buddhism, Th.is religion yet pre-
vails, accommodated skilfully, however, to the Chinese
mode of existence — a mode which all subsequent con-
querors have respected, as the example of the present
dynasty proves.' The dynasty here alluded to is that
of Tatain, of Mantchou, a mixed Mongol and Tartar
stock, which superseded the native Chinese dynasty of
Ming in the year 1644. The present emperor of China
is the sixth of the Tatsin dynasty.

From the series of dry facts just given, we arrive at
the following definition of China and its civilisation: —
As the Roman Empire was a great temporary aggrega-
tion of matured Caucasian humanity, surrounded by
and shading off into Caucasian barbarism, so China, a
country more extensive than all Europe, and inhabited
by a population of more than 300,000,000, is an aggre-
gation of matured Mongolian humanity surrounded by
Mongolian barbarism. The diflerence is this, that while
the Roman Empire was only one of several successive
aggregations of the Caucasian race, each on an entirely
different basis, the Chinese empire has been one perma-
nent exhibition of the only form of civilisation possible
among the Mongolians, The Jew, the Greek, the
Roman, the Frenchman, the German, the Englishman
— these arc all types of the matured Caucasian charac-
ter; but a fully-developed Mongolian has but one type
— the Chinese. Chinese history does not exhibit a pro-
gress of the Mongolian man through a series of stages:
it exhibits only a uniform duration of one great civi-
lised Mongolian empire, sometimes expanding so as to
extend itself into the surrounding Mongolian bar-
barism, sometimes contracted by the pressure of that
barbarism, sometimes disturbed by infusions of the
barbaric element, and sometimes shattered within itself
by the operation of individual Chinese ambition, but
always retaining its essential character. True, in such
a vast empire, diflference of climate, &c. must give rise
to specific differences, so that a Chinese of the north-
east is not the same as a Chinese of the south-west;
true, also, the Japanese civilisation seems to exist as an
alternative, between which and the Chinese Providence
might share the Mongolian part of our species were ii
to remain unmixed; still the general remark remains
undeniable, that from the extremest antiquity to the
present day, Mongolian humanity has been able to c^tst
itself but into one essential civilised type. It is an

CHAMBBBffS INFOBUATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

object of peculiar intereet, therefore, to ue who belong
to the multiform and progrewive Caucawan race, to
obtain a diatinot idea of the nature of that pernmiiont
form of civilisation out of which our Mongolian brothere
have never itsued, and apparency never wwh to iiiue.
Each of our readers being a civiliecd Caucagian, may
be iuupoeed to a»k, ' What sort of a human being i« a
oiviliicd Mongolian ? ' A study of the Chinese civilisa-
tior. would ans./or this question. Not so easy would it
be for a Chinese to return the compliment, confused as
he would M by the multiplicity of the typos which the
Caucasian mt^n has a8sumc<l — from the ancient Arab
to the modern Anglo-AraeriCin.

Hitherto little [jrogress has been made in the investi-
gation of the Chinese eivilisation. Several conclusions
of a general character have, however, been established.
* VVe recognise,' says Schlosser, ' in the institutions of
the Chinese, so much praised by the Jesuits, the charac-
ter of the institutions of all early states; with this dif-
ference, that the Chinese mode of life is not a product
of hierarchical ur theocratic maxims, but a work of the
cold understanding. lu China, all that subserves the
wants of the senses was arranged and developed in the
earliest ages; all that concerns the soul or the imagi-
nation is yet raw and ill-adjusted; and we behold in
the high opinion which the Chinese entertain of them-
selves and their affairs, a terrible example of what
must be the consequence when all behaviour proceeds
according to prescribed etiquette, when all knowledge
and learning is a matter of roto directed to external
applications, and the men of learning are so intimately
connected with the government, and have their interest
so much arte with it, that a number of privileged doc-
tors can regulate literature as a state magistrate does
weights and measures.' Of the Chinese government
the same authority remarks — * The patriarchal system
still lies at the foundation of it. Round the " Son of
Heaven," as they name the highest ruler, the wise of
the laud assemble as round their counsellor and organ.
So in the provinces (of which there are eighteen or nine-
teen, each as large aa a considerable kingdt ;n), the
men of greatest sagacity gather round the presidents ;
each takes the fashion from his superior, and the lowest
give it to the people. Thus one man exercises the
sovereignty ; a number of learned men gave the law,
and invented in very early times a symbolical system
of syllabic writing, suitable for their monosyllabic
speech, in lieu of their primitive system of hiero-
glyphics. All business is transacted in writing, with
iciimtenees and pedantr;^. Their written language is
very difficult; and as it is possible in Chinese writing
for one to know all the characters of a certain period
of time, or of a certain department, and yet be totally
unacquainted with those of another period or another
department, there is no end to their mechanical acqui-
sition.' It has already been mentioned that Chinese
thought has at various times received certain foreign
tinctures, chiefly from India; essentially, however, the
Chinese mind liias remained as \t was flxed by Confu-
cius. ' In China,' says Schlosser, ' a eo-named philo-
sophy has accomplished that which in other countries
has been accomplished by priests and religions. In
the genuine Chmese books of religion, in all their
learning and wisdom, God is not thought of; religion,
according to the Chinese and (' lir oracle and law-
giver Con-fu-tse, has nothing to do with the imagina-
tion, but consists alone in the performance of outward
moral duties, and in zeal to further the ends of state.
Whatever lies beyond the plain rule of life is either
a sort of obscure natural philosophy, or a mere culture
for the people, and for any who may feel the want of
such a culture. The various forms of worship which
have made their way into China are obliged to restrict
themselves, to bow to the law, and to maxu their prac-
tices conform: they can arrogate no literature of their
own ; and, good or bad, must learn to agree with the
prevailing atheistic Chinese manner of thought.'

Such are the Chinese, and such have they been for I assumed the character of Celts and Germans — th'e Celts
2000 or 3000 years— » vaat people undoubtedly civi- ' being the earlier product, and eventually occupybg tUe
6tt

lised to the highest pitch of which Mongolian humanity
is susceptible ; of mild disposition ; industrious to an
extraordinary degree; well-ikilled in all the mecha-
nical arts, and possessing a mechanical ingenuity pecu-
liar to themselves ; boastmg of a language quite linsular
in its character, a>:d of a vast literature; respeotuil of
usage to such a degree as to do everything by pattern;
attentive to the duties and civilities of li^, but totally
devoid of fervour, originality, or spirituality ; and living
under a form of government which has been very hap-
pily designated a pedantoomoy — that is, a hierarchy
of erudite persons selected from the population, and
ap|)ointed by the emperor, according to the proof they
give of their capacity, to the various places of public
trust. How far these characteristics, or any of them,
are iniejxtrahle from a Mongolian civilisation, would
appear more clearly if we knew more of the Japanese.
At present, however, there seems little prospect of any
reorganisation of the Chinese mind, except by meant
of a Caucasian stimulus applied to it. And what
Caucasian stimulus will be sufficient to break up that
vast Mongolian mass, and lay it open to the general
world- influences! Will the stimulus come from
Europe ; or from America, after its western shores
are peopled, and the .\nglo-Americaug begin to think
of crossing the Pacific i

CAUCASIAN HISTORr.

While the Ne[;ro race seems to have retrograded
from its original position on the earth, wnile the Mon-
golian has ailbrded the spectacle of a single permanent
and pedantic civilisrtion retaining millions within its
grasp for ages in the extreme cast of Asia, the Cauca-
sian, as if the seeds of the world's progress had been
implanted in it, has worked out for itself a splendid
career on an ever-shifting theatre. First attaining its
maturity in Asia, the Caucasian civilisation has shot
itself westward, if wo may so speak, in several successive
throes ; long confined to Asia ; then entering northern
Africa, where, commingling with the Ethiopian, it ori-
ginated a new culture; again, about the year b.c. 1000,
adding Europe to the stage of history ; and lastly,
'2500 prears later, crostiing the Atlantic, and meeting in
America with a iliifusei and degenerate Mongolism. To
understand this beautiful career thoroughly, it U neces-
sary to observe the manner in which the Caucasians dis-
seminated themselves from their central home — to count,
as it were, and note separately, the various flights by
which they emigrated from the central hive. So far
as appears, then, from investigations into language, &c.
the Caucasian stock sent forth at different tinves in the
remote past five great branches from its original seat,
somewhere to the south of that long chain cf mour vns
which commences at the Black Sea, and, 1 . a'.ering the
southern coast of the Caspian, terminates in the Hima-
lehs. In what precise way, or at what precise time,
these branches separated themselves from the parent
stock and from each other, must remain a mystery; a
sufficiently clear general notion of the fact is all that
we ca'^ pretend to. lit, The Armenian branch, re-
maining apparently nearest the original seat, filled the
countries between the Caspian and lUack Seas, extend-
ing also round the Caspi u into tho territories afler-
wuds known as those ol j Parthians. '2d, The ludo-
Persian branch, which extended itself in a southern
and eastern direction from the Caspian Sea, through
Persia and Cabool, into Hindoostan, also penetrating
Bokhara. From this great branch philologists and
othnographen derive those two races, the distinction
between which, although subordinate to tiie grand
fivefold division of the Caucasiau stock, is of immense
consequence in modem history — the Celtic and the
Germanic. Pounng through Asia Minor, it is supposed
that the Indo-Persian family entered Europe through
Thrace, and ultimately, through tho operation of those
innumerable causes which react upon the human con-
stitution from the circumstauces in whicli it is placed.

HISTORY OP ANCIENT NATIONS.

West«m portion of Europa — nnmoly, northern Italy,
France, Spain, and Qreat Britain — Htill undergoing
lubdiviiilon, however, during their diapen'.on into Ibe-
rians, Oaeli, Cynri, tic; tn« Uermanr being a later
o<f-ihoot, and lettling rather in the ;entre and north
of Kurope in two great moietici — v'ae Sck^ndinaviani and
the Uemiani Proper. Thii seemi the moit plausible
pedigree of the Cultin and Uernianic racea, although
tome objdct to it. Srf, The Semitic or Aramaic branch,
which, diffusing itself southward and westward from
the original Caucasian seat, filled Syria, Mesopotamia,
Arabia, &o. and founded the early kingdoms of Assyria,
Babylonia, PhiBnicia, Palestine, t.c, I* was this branch
of the ('aucasian variety whi"*-., entering Africa by the
Isthmus of Suez and thu straits of BabelinaiKleb, con-
stituted itself an element at least in the ancient popu-
lation of Egypt, Nubia, and Abyssinia; and there are
ethnographers who believe that the early civilisation
which lined the northern coasts of Africa arose from
Dome extremely early blending of the Ethiopic with
the Semitic, the latter acting as a dominant caste.
Diffusing itself westward alon<; the African coast as
far as Mauritania, the Semitic race seems eventually,
though at a comparatively late period, to have met the
Celtic, which hod crossed into Africa from Spain ; and
thus, by the infusion of Aranioans and Celts, that white
or tawny population which we find in northern Africa
in ancient times, distinct from the Ethiopians of the
interior, seems to have been formed, 4th, The Pelasgic
branch, that noble family which, carrying the Greeks
and Uomans in its bosom, poured itself from western
Asia into the south-east of Eu. pe, mingling doubtless
with Celts and Germans. &th, The Scythian, or Sla-
vonic branch, which difiuaed itself over Huasia, Siberia,
and the central plains of Asia, shading off in these last
into the Mongolian,

Such is a convenient division of the Caucasian stock;
a more profound investigation, however, might re<luce
the five races to these two — the Semitic and the Indo-
(iennanic; all civiliaed languages being capable, it is
said, uf being classified under these three families—
the Chinese, which has monosyllabic roots; the Indo-
Germanic (Sanscrit, Hindoostanee, Greek, Latin, Ger-
man, ar-* all modem European languages), which has
dissyllabic roots ; and the Semitic (Hebrew, Arabic,
&c.), whose roots are trisyllabic. Retaining, however,
the fivefold distribution which we have adopted, we
shall find that the history of the world, from the
earliest to the remotest times, has been nothing else
than the common Caucasian vitality presenting itself
in a succession of phases or civilisations, each differing
from the last in the proportions in which it contains
the various separate elements.

It is advisable to sketch first the most eastern Cau-
casian civilisation — that is, that of India; and then to
proceed to a consideration of the state of that medley
of nations, some of them Semitic, some of them Indo-
Persian, and some of them Armenian, out of which the
great Persian empire arose, destined to continue the
historic pedigree of the world into Europe, by trans-
mitting Its vitality to the Pelasgians.

Ancient India.
One of the great branches, we have said, of the Cau-
casian family of mankind was the Indo-Pcrsian, which,
spreading out in the primeval times frjm the original
seat of the Caucasian part of the huuian species, ex-
tended itself from the Caspian to the Bay of Bengal,
where, coming into contact with the southern Mongo-
lians, it gave rise, according to the roost probable ac-
counts, to those new mixed Caucasian-Mongolian races,
the Malays of the Eastern Peninsula; and, by a still
farther degeneracy, to the Papuas, or natives of the
South Sea Islands. While thus shading off into the
Mongolism of the Pacific, the Indo-Persian mass of our
species was at the same time attaining maturity within
itself; and as the first ripened fragment of the Mongo-
lians had been the Chinese nation, so one of the first
ripened fragments of the ludo-Peraion branch of the

Caucasians seems to hare been the Indiana. At what
time the vast peninsula of Hlndoostan oould first boast
of a civilised population, it is impossible to say ; all
testimony, however, agrees in assigning to Indian civi-
lisation a most remote antiquity. Another fact seema
also to be tolerably well authenticated regarding
ancient India; namely, that thu northern portions of it,
and espcciallv the north-woatern portions, which would
be nearest the origin'^i Caucasian seat, were the first
civilised ; and that the civilising influence spread
thence aoutbwardii to Cape Comorin,

Notwithstanding this general conviction, that India
was one of the first portions of the earth's surface that
contained a civilised population, few facts in the
ancient history of India are certainly known. We are
tnld, indeed (to omit the myths of the Indian Bacchus
id Hercules), of two great kingdoms — those of Ayodha
,,(Jude) and Prathisthana (Vitera)— as having existed
in northern India upwards of a thousand vears before
Christ; of conqueata in southern India, offtcted by the
monarchs of these kingdoms; and of wars carried on
betwi. }n these monarchs and their west im neighbours
the Persians, after the latter had begun to bo powerful.
All these accounts, however, merely reaolve themselves
into the general information, that India, many centuries
before Christ, was an important member in the family
of Asiatic nations ; supplying articles to their com-
merce, and involved in their agitations. Accordingly,
if wo wish to form an idea of the condition of India
prior to that great epoch in its history — its invasion by
Alexander the Great, n.c. 326 — we can only do so by
reasoning back from what we know of its present con-
dition, allowing for the modifying effects of the two
thousand years which have intervened ; and especially
for the effects produced by the Mohammedan invasion,
A.D. lOOU. This, however, is the less difficult in the
case of such a country as India, where the permanence
of native institutions is so remarkable ; and though
we cannot hope to acquire a distinct notion of the ter-
ritorial divisions, &c. of India in very ancient times, yet,
by a study of the Hindoos as they are at present, we
may furnish ourselves with a tolerably accurate idea of
the nature of tbat ancient civilisation which overspread
Hindoostan many centuries before the birth of Christ —
and this all the more probably that the notices which
remain of the state of India at the time of the invasion
of Alexander, correapimd in many points with what is
to be seen in India at the present day.

The population of Hindoostan, the area of which is
estimated at about a million square miles, amounts
to about 120,000,000; of whom about 100,000,000 are
Hindoos or aborigines, the remainder being foreieners,
either Asiatic or European. The most remarKable
feature in Hindoo society is its division into castes.
Tho Hindoos are divided into four great castes — the
Brahmins, whose proper business is religion and philo-
sophy; the Kshatriyas, wfai> attend to war and govern-
ment; the Vaisyas, whose duties are connected with
commerce and agriculture; and the Sudras,OT artisans
and labourers. Of these four castes the Brahmins are
the highest; but a brood line of distinction is drawn
between the Sudraa and the other three castes. The
Brahmins may intermarry with the three inferior castes
— the Kshatriyas with the Vaisyas and the Sudras; and
the Vaisyas with the Sudras; but no Sudra can choose
a wife from either of the >'.Lree superior castes. As a
general rule, every person is required to follow the
profession of the caste to which he belongs: thus the
Brahmin is to lead a life of contemplation and study,
subsisting on the contributions of the rich; the Ksha-
triya is to occupy himself in civil matters, or to pursue
the profession of a soldier; and the Vaisya is to be a
merchant or a farmer. In fact, however, the barriers
of caste have in innumerable instances been broken
dovra. The I'araifications, too, of the caste system are
infinite. Besides the four pure, there are numerous
mixed castes, all with their prescribed ranks and occu-
pations. A class far below even the pure Sudras is the
Panah* or outcasts; consisting of the refuse of all the

CUAMBIBM rarOBMATION VOR THS f EOPLS.

othw OMicf, and which, in prooMi of tlmt, hj* grown
•o Iwgo M to inclttdo, it ii Mid, ona-flfth of the popu
Ution of Hlndooitan. The P»ri»ht porfomi the me»iieit
kind* of mhauhl labour. Thif iyrtom of CMtei, of
which tho Dr»hmlni theniiolrei, whom ioiae nuppoie
to h»T« b««n origin»llr • coutjuorinj} race, are the
architMto, if not the founden, is bound u\) with the
nligion of tho Hindoo*. Indeed of th» Hindoo*, more
trulV than of any other people, it raaj bo wiid that a
knowledge of their religiou* •jr»te'u i« a knowledge
of the people thcnueWe*,

The Veda*, ur ancient *aored book* of the Hindoo*,
dlfttnctlv let forth the doctrine of the Iiitiuite and
Eternal Supreme Being. According to the VcUm, there
i* ■ one unknown, true Being, all pretiont, all powerful,
(he creator, preterver, and deatroyer of tho unirerie.'
Thi* Supreme Being * i* not ooin|>rehenaiblu by viiion,
or by any other of the organ* of Benie; nor can >>e be
conceived by mean* of devotion or virtuou* practice*.'
.Me if not space, nor air, nor light, vot atoms, nor «cul,
Lor nature : he ii above all these, and tho cauae of
them all. He 'has no ftiat, but extends uverywhere;
ha* no hand*, but hold* everything; ha* no eyca, yet
•ee* all that iu; ha* no ear*, yet hear* everything that
pas*e*. Hi* existence had no'cauio. He is the aiualleat
of the *mall and the greatest of the great; and yet
i*, in fact, neiiher aniall nor great.' Such is the doc-
trine of the Vedaa in it* piires* and most abstract fonii ;
but the prevailing thcolopy which run* throu.i^h theui
i* what ia nailed Pantheism, or that ayatem which
speaks of God a* the soul of the universe, or aa iho
universe itself. Accordingly, the whole tone and lan-
guage of the highest Hindoo philoroiiiiy is Fantueistic.
A* a rope, lying on the ground, and niistakun nt first
view for a *uake, is the cause of the i<^oi' or conception
of the snake wliich exist* in the mind of the person
looking at it, so, say tho Vedaa, is tho Deity the cause
of what wo call the universe. ' In him the iv! >le world
is absorbed; from him it issuer; ho is ont\\,'iud and
interwoven with all creation.' ' AH that exidCa is Ood ;
whatever we ainell, or taste, or see, or hear, or feel, is
the Supreme Being.'

This one inconip'ehenBiblo iUing, whom the Hindoo*
designate by the mystical naniti (/m, Tut, and yM/,and
Dometime* also by the ."ord Brahm, is declared by tbc
Veda* to be the only proj er olyec*: of worship. Only a
Tery few persons of ert aordinur/ gifts and virtues,
however, are able, it is said, to t.aore \he Supremo
Being— the great Om — directly. 1. great majority
of mankind are neither so wiso nor m holy as to lie
atile to approach the Divine Being himself, and wur-
ihip him. It being alleged that persons thus unfor-
tunately disqualified for adoriuf; the invisible Deity
should employ their minds upon some visible thing,
rather than suffer them to remain idle, the Vedas
direct them to worship a tmniber of inferior deities,
reprttgenting particular acta orqualitiuit of the Supreme
Being; a>, for instance, Crishnu or Vishnu, the god of
preservation ; Muhadev, the god of destruction ; or the
■un, or the air, or tho sea, or the human understand-
ing; or, in fact, any object or thing which they may
choone to represent as (jod. Seeing, say the llindocis,
that Ciod pervades and uniinatcs the whole universe,
everything, livinjL'or dead, may bo considered a portion
of God, and as surh, it may be selected as an ol>|vct of
wonliip, provided always it be worshipped only as con-
atituting a portion of the Divine Substance. In this
way, whatevkir the eyo looks on, or tliu mind caTi con-
ceive, whether it be the sun in the heavens or the
great river Ganges, or the crocodile on it* bank!!, or the
cow, or the fire kindled to cook food, or the Ved^ia, or a
Brahmin, or a tree, or a serpent — all m'"v be legiti-
mately worshipped a* a fragment, so to speak, of tlie
Divine Spi.-it. Thus there may be many millions of
gods to which Hindoos think themselves entitled to
pay divine honours. The number of Hindoo gods is
calculated at 330,000,000, or about three times the
number of their worshippers.
Of theie, tho threo principal deities of tho iiladoos
70

•r« Drahma the crMtor, Vishnu the pratcrvur, and
Seeb or Siva the destroyer, Thea« three of cour*« war*
originally intended to represent the three great attrU
bute* of thd dm or Invisible Supreme B«inx— namely,
hi* creating, hi* preaerving, and hi* deatroying attri-
butea. Indee<l the uAme Um itaclf is a compound woni,
exproaaing the three idea* of creation, preaervation, and
doatiuction, all combined. The three together are call-td
Trimurli, ^ d there ar<> rertuln occa«ion* when tli?
threo are worshipped conjointly. There are ulnu sculp-
tured ruptesentationH ot the Trimurti, in which thd
busts of Brahma, Vi.Lilinu, and Siva are cue out of the
vane mas* of stone. One of those imagea vif the Tri-
murti ia found in the celebrated cavern temjile of
Klephanta, in tho nsighbo.irhood of Bombay, perhaps
the most wonderful remnant of ancient Indian archi-
tecture. Vi*hi>j and Sivn are more wnrahipped *epa-
rately than Brahma — each having hi* body of devotees
speciully attached to him in particular.

llindooisinv like oth'^r I'anthoiatic syiteni*, teaches
tho doctrine of the traniimigration of souls : all crea-
tion, anim.ite and inaniirate, being, according to the
Hindoo ayslein, nothing «Ue but the deity Brahni him-
self parccUrd out, a* it were, into innumerable por-
tionm and fornis (when these are reunited, the world
will be ui an end), just us u quantity of quicksilver
mar be broken up into innumerable little balls or
globules, which all have a tendency to go together
again. At long intervals of time, each extending over
aoine thousand millions of vMrs, Brahtn does bring the
worhl to an end, by reabsorbing it into hi* ipirit.
When, thert-fore, a man dies, his soul, according to the
Hindoos, must either b<- absorbed immediately into the
soul of Bmhm, or it must pass through a ieries of
transmigrations, waiting for the Anal absorption, which
huppens ut the end of every univorso, or at least until
such time as it shall bo prepared for being reunited
with the Infinito Spirit. Tne former of the two is,
according to the Hindoos, the highest possible reward:
to bo absorbed into Brahin immediately upon death,
and without having to under^ro any farther purification,
is the lot only of the greateut devotees. To attain this
end, or ai least to avoid degrivlation after docih, the
HindooM, and especially the Brahmins, who are natu-
lally the most intent upon their epirituiil interksts,
practise a ritual of tho most intricate and ascetic dc-
*cription, carrying religious ceremonies and antipathies
with them into all the duties of life. So overburdened
i* the daily life of the Hindoos with superstitious obser-
vances with regard to fooil, sleep, &c. that, but for the
speculative doctrines which tho more elevated minds
among the Brahiain* may see lecogiiL-ied in their reli-
gion, tho whole Dvstcm of Hindooisiu might seem a
wretched and grotesque polytheism.

A hundred millions of people professing this system,
divided into castes as now, and carrying the Brahnii-
iiical ritual into all the occupations of lazy life under
the hot sun, and amid the exuberant vegetation of
Hindooatan — such was the people into which Alexander
the Great carried his conquering arms ; vuch, doubt-
le??, they had been for ages bemro that period; and-
such did they remain, bhut out from the view of the
rest of the civilised world, and only communicating
with it by means of spices, ivory, &c. which fouml their
way through Arabia or the Red Sea to the Mediter-
ranean, till Vasco dc GaiiKi rounded the Cape of Good
llopo, and brought Muropi' and India into closer con-
nection. Meanwhile a Mohammedan invasion had
taken pla e (• d. 1000); Mohammedans from Persia
hml miii^iod themselves with the Hin<loo8; and it was
with this mixed population that British enterprise
eventually came into collision.

Y.TQ quitting the Indians, it is well to glance back
at the Chinese, so ai> to see wherein theiw two primeval
and contemporaneous consolidations of our species —
the Mongolian consolidation of eastern Asia, and the
Caucasian consolidation <>f the central peninsula of
southern Asia — differ. * Whoever would perceive the
fuU physical and moral differsuce,' says Klaproth,

HI9T0RT OF ANCIENT NATIONS.

lance back
primeval
(pecies —
and tbo
uinsula of
rcoive the
Klaproth,

' b«twMn the Ch>n«M and Indian nationi, murt con<
tr>Kt th« pvuuliar culture of the Cliineie with that of
the Hindoo, fathiunnd aliiKint like a Kuronean, even to
hit complexion, lie will itvidv the buundleii religioui
■jriteiu of the Brahniini, and oppow it to 'ho bold
bellet' of the original Chinoee, wliich can ' ^y be
named rt'livion. He will remark the rigoMi iiion

of the Hiiiilooe into caitet, lecti, and denoim nationi,
for «rhioh tlip inhabitaiitt of the central klnifdum have
eren no expiMiion. He will compare the ur/ pn/ialc
spirit of the Chineao with the higD ]>oetic lout of the
dwellen on the Uangei and the Diumnah. Me will
hear the rich and blooming Hanaurit, and contract it
with the unharmonioui ipeech of the Chinese. He
will mark, Anally, the literature of the latter, full of
matten of fact and thin);g worth knowing, ai contraited
with the limitli'M philosophic-otcetic writing of the
Indiaiii, vi lui have made evoD tho highest poetry weari-
iomo by perpetual length.'

lIlHtorjr of the Hastern Nations till thtir Incorporation in the
Fenian Empire.
Leaving India — that great fragment of the original
Ciiiicasian ciTillsation — and proceeding westward, we
find two large masses of t>- . nunian species Ailing in
the earliest times the cou'. tries lying between the Indus
and the Mediterranean — namely, an Indo-1'eriian mass
filling the whole tract of country between tho Indus
and the Tigris ; and a Semitic- Aramaic mass Ailing
the greater part of lesser Asia and the whole peninsula
of Arabia, and extending itself into the parts of Africa
adjoining the lied Hca. That in the most remote ages
these lands were the theatres of a civilised activity
is certain, although no records have been transmitted
from them to us, except a few fragments relative to the
Semitic nations. The general facts, however, with re-
gard to thcso anto-historic times, seem to be: l»t. That
tho former of the two masses mentioned — namely, the
population between the lnd>is and the Caspian — was
essentially a prolongation of the great Indian nucleus,
possessing a culture similar tu tho Indian in its main
aspects, although varied, as was inevitable, by the
operation of those physical causes which distinguish
tne climate of I'ersla and Cabool from that of Hindoos-
tan ; '2d, That the Semitic or Aramaic mass divided
itself at a very early period into a number of separate
peoplex or nations, the Assyrians, the llabylonians, the
Phoenicians, the Jews, the Arabians, kc. and that each
of these acquired a separate development, and worked
out for itself a separate career; '.id, That upwards of a
thousand years before Christ the spirit of conquest
appeared among the Semitic nations, dashing them
violently against each other; and that at len^'th one
Sesnitio fragment- —that Is, tho Assyrians — attained the
supremacy over the rest, and founded agreat dominion,
called tbeANsyrian empire, which stretched from Kgy pt
to the borders of India (n. c. 800) ; and 4<A, That the
pressure of this Semitic power against tho Indo-l'ersic
mass was followed by a reaction — one great section of
the Indu-Pcrsian* rising into strength, supplanting the
Adsyrinn empire, and founding one of their own, called
the Persian empire (b. c. .5.33), which was destined in its
turn to be supplanted by the confederacy of Grecian
states in b. c. 32b'.

Beginning with Egj'pt, let us trace separately the
ctircer of each of the Eastern nations till that point
of time at which we find them all embodied in the
great Persian empire: —

The Egyptians.
Egypt, whose position on tho map of Africa is well
known, is about aOO miles long from its most northern
to it.s most southern point. Ijirough its whole length
fiows the Nile, a fine large stream rising in the inland
kingdom of Abyssinia, and, from certain periodic floods
to which it is subject, of great use in irrigating and
fertilising the country. A Targe portion of Egypt con-
sists of an alluvial plain, similar to our meadow grounds,
formed by th« deposits of the river, and bounded by

rannt of mountalni on cither lid*. The greatcit hrtadtb
of the vallev is \.W miles, but generally It li nmch le*«,
the mountain ranges on either side often being nut more
than Ate to ten miles tVoni the river.

A country lo iivourably iltuated, and posseiiina m
many advantages, could not but be among the earlTeit
peopW; and accordingly, as far bark ai the human
memory can reach, we And a dense population of »
very peculiar character inhabiting tho whole valley of
the Nile. These ancient Egyptiani mem, as we have
already said, to have been a mixture of the Semitic
with the Ethiopio element, sneakinu a peculiar lan-
guage, still surviving in a modified form m the Coptic
of modem Egypt. In the ancient authori, however,
tho Rgyptiani are always distinguished from the
Ethiopians, with whom they kept up so close an inter-
course, that it has been made a (lucstiim whether the
Egyptian institutions came from tne Ethiopian Meroe,
or wnether, as is more probable, civilisation was trans-
mitted to Ethiopie from Egypt.

The whole country is naturally divided into three
narts- IJpner Egypt, borderinff on what was anciently
Ethiopia; Middle Ktfypt; and Lower Egypt, including
the Delta of the Nile, In each there were numerous
cities In which the population was amassed: orlgiiiallr
Thebes, a city of Upper Egypt, of the size of which
surprising accounts are transmitted to us, and whose
ruins btvlT astonish the traveller, was tho capital of tho
country; but latterly, as commerce increased, Mem)dila
in Middle Egypt became the seat of power. After
Thebes and Memphi», Ombi, Edfou, Esneh, Elephan-
tina, and Philoe teem to have been the most important
of the Egyptian cities.

Our accounts of the Egyi>tian civilisation are derived
chiefly from the Oveek historian Herodotus (d. c. 40U),
who visited Kgyp- and digested tho information which
he received fium the priests an to its ancient history;
and Manetho, u native Egyptian of later times, who
wrote in Greek. From their accounts it is inferred
that the country was anciently divided into thirty-six
lections or provinces called names — ten In Upper, six-
teen in Middle, and ten in Lower Egypt. ' Many of
the separate nomes were of considerable siibstantive
importance, and had a marked local chanu-ter ea(^h to
itself, religious as well as political ; though tho whole
of Egypt, from Elephantine to Pelusium and Kanopus,
is said to have always constituted one kingdom.' Of
this kingdom, the population, according to a roush
estimate, may have been about seven millions. Tho
government was a monarchy based on an all-powerful
priesthood, similar to the Itrahminical system of India;
and, as in India, the most striking feature in tho
Egyptian society was the division of the people into
hereditary castes. 'The population of Egypt,' saya
Mr Grote in his History of Greece, * was classified
into certain castes or hereditary professions, of which
the number is represented differently by different
authors. Thvi priests stcnd clearly marked out as the
order richest, liiost » -*erlul, and most venerated, dis-
tributed all over Ik- ''ountry, and possessing exclu-
sively the means o< rea;! •;, and writing,* besides a vast
amount of narrat'.a v oHv: treasured up in the me-
mory, the whole ''.ucV >f medical and physical know-
ledge then attaiiu 1 lOi .tiiu those rudiments of geometry
(or rather land-mtasuring) which were so often called
into use in a country annually inundated. To each
god and to each temple throughout Egypt, lands and
other properties belonged, whereby the numerous band
of priests attached to him were maintained. Their
ascendancy, both direct and indirect, over the minds of
the people was immense; they prescribed that minute
ritual under which the life of every Egyptian, not ex-
cepting the king himself, was passed, and which was
for themselves more full of harassing particularities
thiin for any one else. Every day in the year belonged

* Mr Groto subjoins tlio following importnnt note:— "TTio
wiml prieit convcj s to a modem reader «n idea voiy difierenll
from that of the £|ryp^'»n <<;:<(, who were not a profession, but
an urdev, comprUing manji ocmpatiom and prq/cssiont.'

CHAMBUIS'S IHFORMATION FOR THI PEOPLE.

to lomc ptrtlcular god, »nd th» priwU alone kntw to
which. Th«r« wi-ru dilliirenl go.!* in «*»rjr noine,
thouffh Iili »ud <>«irU wore oomriion to all; aii.l (ba
prlMti of each ko<1 coiirtitutad a nicitty apart, more or
Um important, according to th* ooiuparatl»e o«l«l.r,ty
of the toiuple. Th« property of enth temple included
truopa of dependenti and •laree, who wore »tftnip«d with
•' holy inarkii," and who niuit have been nuiniirou*. in
order to iuffleo for the lervico of tho largo buildinKi
Mid their conitant viiitort.

Next in irnportaiicu to the lacenlotal caito were tho
military oaate or onlur, whole native name indicated
that they ttood on the left hand of thu kinji;, while the
prieeti oovupieil tho riK'it. They wuro claiaiflod into
Kalaeiriei and ilerniutybii, who ocvupied lanilit in
•i{{hteen particular nomei or prorincoi, prinripullv in
Lower Kftypt. 'I'he Kala«>Tiea had once uniountud to
ItiU.OUU men, the Hermotybii to 'JA0,OUU, when iit tho
maximum of their population; but that hij(hci«t point
ha<l long been pait ni the time of llcrodotua. To each
man of thia aoldier-caate wim oaaiKned a portion of luiul,
equal to about (i^ Kngliah acrea, free from any tax.
Tne landa of the prioata and the aoldiora woro ro^anled
aa pririleged proiH>rty, and exempt from all burdeni ;
while the remaining loil was conaidered oa the property
of the king, who, however, received from it a fixed pro-
IMirtioti — one-fifth of the total produce — leaving the
rr.Ht in tho handa of tho cultirnton. Tho aoldisra wore
interdicted from every deacription of art and trade.'

The other cattei are differently given in different
authon; tho moat probable account, however, ia that
which osaigna thorn a« three — tho custo of the huaband-
inen, that of the artificer*, and that of tho herdsmen,
which laat coite included a variety of occupations held
in contempt, the lowest and most dcgra<led uf all being
that of swineherd. The aoparution between the hus-
bandmen and the herdsmen scema to have arisen from
the rircumstancw that dittbrent parts of tho country,
not suitablo for agriculture, were entirely laid out in
pasture. The artificers, constituting tho vast tofvn
population of Kgypt, were subdivided into a great
variety of occupations, weavers, masons, sculptors, Kc.
who were compelled to these professions by hereditary
obligation. It was by the labour of this vast town
population, assisted by that of herds of slaves, that
those huge works were accomplished, tho remains of
which still attest tho grcatncH:* of ancient Kgypt. Part
of the artisan population were oxclusivolv occupied in
skilled labour; and in a country whore there was such
<i taste for works of masonry, sculpture was necessarily
one of the most largely-stocked of the skilled occupa-
tions. ' Perfect exactness of execution,' it is said,
* mastery of the hardest stone, and undcviating obe-
dience to certain rules of proportion, are goneral cha-
racteristics of Kgyptian sculpture. There are vet seen
in their quarries obelisks not severed from the rock,
but having three of their sides already adorned with
hieroglyphics, so certain were they of cutting olT tho
fourth side with precision,' These skilled artificers
may be supposed to have acted as foremen and over-
seers of the great numbers of labourers who were em-
ployed in public works such as the Pyramids. In tho
construction of those works, no degree of labour for any
length of time seems to have intimidated tho Egyptians.
1'ho huge blocks of stone, sometimes weighing lUCU tons
each, were dragged for hundreds of miles on sledges,
and their transport, perhaps, did not occupy less time
than a year; in one case which is known, 2000 men
were employed three years in bringing a single stone
from a quarry to the building in which it was to he
placed. Usually, the sledges were drawn by men yoked
III rows to soitaruto ropes, all pulling at a ring fixed to
tho block. (!<eo Vol. I. p. 4U4.) Whcifl it was possible,
tho blocks were brought from the quarries on flat-
bottomed boats on tho Nile. But the transport of these
mosses was much more easily iiccoiiii>lished than the
placing of them in elevated situations in the buildings.
They were raised by the power of lovers and inclined
planes at immcuM trouble uud cost. The waste of
73

human life in these gigantic works must har* b««n
enormous. About I'.'U.UUO man are said to have |>«rished
ill tho digging of a canal, which was left i^ilinished,
jietwoen the lied Soa and an ami of 'ii« ^lin; and
according to llerutlotua, thu i-^gyutian i ii«st* '•« a'* day
deaoribed thu liiiildiiig uf th* i'yraniidi •■ •. tl>n« "^f
oxtrunie exhaustion and hardship to thn w ' 'Urtiy.

Th« religion of the higyptiana seems to 'in irtvu,
in it* popular iuriii at leuat, a mere gross Ketiahiam,
whoMi principal characteristic waa u worship uf teeming
animal life- the bull, the eat, tho ibla, the crcM'odite,
Sic; dillcront animala in ilitt'urunt numes. Whatever
prufoundor uieaiiing lay hid under this gross ceremonial
tho priest-caate reaorved to theinaaUm, aa one of the
mysturiea, the poasusaion of which severed them from
thu reat of the population, Amomg theae mysteries
was the art of writing, which was practised both in the
alphabetical iiii'l the hioroglyphio form ; the latter
being useii fur apoclal ]>urpuM»s, Homo vague notion
of the immortality of tho soul, reaembling the llindou
tenet of trauamigration, seems to have |>crvaded tho
Kgyptian religiuu; and tliia belief appears to havo lain
at the foundation of tint Egyptian practice of embalm-
ing the (lead. The buiinoaa of ouiliulming waa a very
dignified uno, ^nd was aided by a boat of inferior
functionaries, who made and painted cotfins and other
articles which were required. The bodies of the poorer
classes were nieroly dried with salt or natron, and
wrapt up in coarso clutlis, and deposited in the cata-
combs. The bodies of the rich and great underwent
the most complicated oponvtioiis, wrapt in bandages
dipped in balitam, and laboriously iwlorned with all
kinds of ornuinunti. Thus prepared, thoy were placed
in highly-decoriited cases or coffans, and then consigned
to sarcophagi in the catacombs or pyramids. Bodies
so prepared have been citlled mummies, cither from the
Arabian word moiuiii, or the Coptic mum, signifying
bitumen or gum-resin,

Althuugli the Egyptians carviedon from early times a
caravan-coinmerco with the adjacent ccuntrios of Phiu-
nicia, Palestine, and Arabia, importing such articles as
wine, oil, and spices fur embalming, yet exclusivencss
and self-sufficiency were characteristics of their civilisa-
tion. There, on the banks of the Nile, those millions
lived, changeless in their methods through centuries,
each individual mechanically pursuing tho occupation
to which ho was boin — millions cultivating the soil,
and producing wheat, &c. for the subsistence of tho
whole ; others tending the cattle necossarv for food or
sacrifice; millions, again, crowded into the nunivruiia
towns, occupied in the various handicrafts necessary to
provide articles of clothing, luxury, &c. — a largo pro-
portion of this class being available for stupendous
architectural works; and lastly, diffused through these
country and town populations, two other proprietor-
castes — the one a militia, occu]iied in gymnastic exer-
cises alone ; the other a sacerdotal or intellectual
order, within whoso body was accumulated all the spe-
culative or scientific wisdom of the country. Relations
existed between Kgypt and the adjacent countries ;
and rumours of the nature of its peculiar civilisation
may have sprca<l through tho nations of the Mediter-
ranean ; but for a long while it was shut, like the pre-
sent China, against foreign intrusion; and it was not
till about tho year G50 b.c. that it was thrown open to
general inspection. In the sixth and fiflh centurioa
11.0., the philosophers of other countries, and especially
of Greece, used to visit Egypt in order to acquire, by
intercourse with tho Kgyptian intellectual caste, some
of that precious knowledge of which they were be-
lieved to be the depositaries.

Although the Kgyptian civilisation is known to have
existed pretty much aa we have described it from ini.
memorial antiquity, yet, with tho exception of what
we learn from Scripture, we know little of Egyptian
history, properly so called, anterior to tho time when
the country was thrown open to the Ureeks. Herodotus
and Manetho, indeed, have given us retrospective lists
of the Kgyptian kings, extending back into the priiui-

niSTOBT or A5CIENT NATIONB.

iSv* ((loom of tb« world ; but portloni of thoM lialt Me
•vldautly oonitruoted backwardi on mythloal prin-
elplM. Thill Mnuecho, nruMrviiiK doubtluM tha ti»<ll-
tioni nf tha iueerdotkl i-)f(vptian VMt«, to which ho U
luppoicd to hnre iMlongeil, uarrioi back the imaaiiiB-
tloii M fur M .'Ml.tlUO yean Imforo tha birth of Chriat.
Krotii thia data tilt im'. A70'J, Kreikt diviiio p<iraon»|{ea
rulud ill hlajrpt; than (u.c. SHii) it riuna iiitu tha poa-
toaaioii of huiiikii kiii({«, thu tlmt of whirh «raa Meiiea.
i''ruiii the iMX'aaaioii uf Menaa (U)wn tu the iiicor|Mir»-
tiim uf Kgypt with the I'vraiaii empire (H.r. A'iA), He-
rodotua Maltfiia 33U kiii({a, or, M they are called In
boriiiture, I'haraoha, whuae iiaiiiea, he iiifoniia ua, were
read to him out of a papyriia iiianuavript by the Kgjyi-
tiuii prieata, who pledK«d thumaelvea tu ita accura<!y;
and Manothu rvukoiia up twviity-aix dyiiaatlua, aoiiie of
thaiii iiativu and uthera forolKii, which divided the lung
pvriod Into portiona of dilfuront loiifttha. The earlier of
thoac dyiiiutioa are of coumo uiihiaturicnl, and are to
lu troatud aa H^typtiaii iiiytha— that ia, flcliona of the
vet'uliur K){yptian itiiaKiiiution, aa the Ureek atoriea of
I'romothcua, &o. wore tictloiia of the {icculiar (Ireek
iiiiaKinution. Tho later dynaatiea, however, are not to
be thua diamiaaod. It waa in the titteeiith of Manetho'a
dynaatiea, or ii.c. 1 020, that Abraham ia auppoaed to
Iiave viuited Kf^ypt; and nionumenta remain which are
refurrod to thu itixteoiith and aevontoonth dynuatica,
during; which it waa that the laraelitca remained in
Kftypt. Theao three dynaatiea were forei^^n onoa, and
tiro denominated tho dynaatiua of thu Ilykaoa, or
khuphurd kinga -those ahephurda boin^ reproaontcd aa
n rud-haired and blue-eyed race of invadera, who came
fi'uiii tho Semitic countrioa in theoorth-coat. The ahop-

kerd kinea are laid to havo destroyed the monumenta of
the previoui dynaatiei. At length they wore expelled
by a native dynaaty of Thebana, tho eighteenth in Ma-
netho'a Hat, and tho head of which ia auppoaod to have
bcon the Pharaoh ' who knew not Joaeph.' The exodua
of the laraulitca from Kgypt ia believed to have taken
place II.C. 1491, under tho reign of the Pharaoh of the
eighteenth dynaaty, named Thuthmei III. — tho Pha-
raoh whole heart was hanlened, and who waa drowned
in the Ited Hea, Thia Theban dynaaty produced many
uble aovcroigna; one of whom, Hameaca II., waa a (;roat
conqueror, ami extended the K^yptiaii doniiniun far
into Aaiu. Tho nineteenth and twentieth dynaitics
wore likewiao from Thobea; the twenty-tirat were Tan-
itea; the twenty -aecond, Ilabuiititea; tho twenty -third,
I'anitea again ; the twenty-fourth, Saitea, from Saia in
Lower Egypt; the twenty-fifth (ii. c. 1112) waa an
Ethiopian dynaaty, during whoao rule there were fro-
uuont wars with tho Aaayrians. The twenty -aixth
dynaaty, which aucceoded the I'.thiopian ono after a
period uf anarchy, was from Sais. The first of ita
kings was Psammctichua I., whoao reign (d.c. 650)
constitutes an epoch in Egyptian history. Having at-
tained to the throne by the aid of (Ireek mercouariea,
he broke down the barriera which Egyptian exclusive-
ncaa had hitherto kept up againat foreigncra, greatly to
tho disguat of many of his aubjects, especially of the
priestly caste, whose trammels in other respccta ho
threw oft', and of the military coate, n'ho found their
places occupied by Ionian and Kariaii colonists. Tho
Bucccssora of Psammctichua involved themselves in war
with the Chaldeans or Assyrians of Uabylon. The
fourth of them, named Ainoaia (n.c. 570-5'2(>), rivalled
Psammetichus in liberality of policy. ' Besides grant-
ing permission,' says Mr Grote, * to various Grecian
towns to erect religious establiahmcnts for auch of their
citizens aa visited the Greek port of Naukratia, he also
aanctioncd the constitution of a formal and organiacd
emporium or factory, invested with commercial privi-
leges, and armed with authority exorcised by presiding
ofiicera regularly chosen.' To thia important establish-
ment waa given the name of the IlelUnion; just aa if,
at a hitherto close port of China, an institution were to
be permitted to be called * The Uritish Factory.' Under
Aniaais, Egypt attained to a great degree of prosperity,
which was remembered tho more that immediately

aRar hia death the countnr wai lubjufatad by Carti-
byioa, and aiinased to tha Pariian oiupln (ikC. A'JA),

AraMai
Tho groMt paninauU of Arabia waa In (ha Mrllaat
tinica inhablttid by a population of thu Semitic atoek,
in all aaaential r»ap«rta aimllar to that which inhabita
it now, partly concuntratad in citiea, partly wandering
in tribea through tho oxtenaivo ilaaerta which mark tha
•iirfaca of tha country. The inhabitanta of the tiiwna
aubiiit by agriculture and commerce; tho waniloriiifc
tribea by eattla-rearing and pillage. In ancient tiniea,
aa now, the Araba were colebrated for their export horae-
maiiahiii, their hoapitality, their eloquence, and their
free indumitablo apirit. In religion, however, the mo-
dern Araba, who are Mohaniine'Una, ditfer from tha
ancient Araba, who were idolaters, chieHy worahippera
of the celeatial liiminarlaa, nowhere ao beautiful aa in
the akv of an Arabian deaert. The Araba theinaelvea
trace their hiatory back, the older tribea to Kahtan (tha
.loktan of tho loth chapter of Geneaia), the later to
Adiian, a deacondaiit of lahmacl tho offspring of Abra-
ham. It ia unneceaaary, however, to enter Into thia
hiatory, oa Arabia waa not incorporated with the Par-
aian empire, an<i only aaaumed hiatorical importance in
later tiinca, when it aant forth the religion of Moham-
med over the Eaat. (See Noi. 60 and 7(i.)

•ytta.

The Semitic or Aramaic population overipreading
Syria — which name ia goiierally anplio<l to the country
lying between tho Eupliratea and Arabian deaert on the
eaat, and the Mediterranean on the west — had early
divided itself into varioua independent atatca or king-
doms, which ultimately reaolved theinaelvea, it would
appear, into three. Those were Phmtioia, a narrow
atrip of coaat-land, extending from Mount Carmol to
the river Elenthoroa; Paleitine, or the IMy land, in-
cluding the country aouth of Phoenicia, Wween the
Arabian deaert and the Mediterranean, oa well aa the
inland diatrict lying between Mount Carmel and Mount
Herman ; and Syria Proper, whoae capital waa Da-
mascua, and which, when tho power of the Daraaacan
kings waa at ita higheat, included all the country except
Palestine and Phoenicia. Syrian history posaessea no
independent importance; wo pasa, thoreturo, to the
history of the Phoenician and Jewiah nations.

The Phsnlolans.
an exceedingly amall country, ita

Phoonicia was
length being only about 120 miles, and ita breadth
nowhere greater than 20 miles. Indeed it mav bo
described as a more slip of coaat-land, auificiently largo
to accommodate a range of port towns, auch as a mer-
chant people required. The most northern of these
Phoonician cities was Aradus, situated on a small island;
the moat aouthem waa the famoua Tyre; and between
tho two wore aituatcd many others, of which the chief
were Sidon, Derytua, Tripolia, and Dyblua. The greater
part of the population waa contained in tbcae citiea,
the rural population being small in proportion.

Originally, Phcenicia was divided into a number of
little atates or communitiea, each having a town for ita
metropolia, with a hereditary king of its own ; and ere
the country waa restricted by tno formation of the
Jewish nation, the number of these Phoenician or
Canoanitish principalitiea must have been considerable.
The Phoeniciana were a fragment of the Canaanites of
Scripture; and doubtless in the annala of the separate
Phoenician towns, such aa Tyre, Sidon, and Aradus,
were preserved records, from the Phoenician point of
view, of many of those ancient transactions which are
related in the Scriptural account of the aettlemont of
the Jewa in Canaan. Without going back, however,
into the remoter period of Phoenician hiatory, one of
the questions connected with which ia, whether Tyre
(founded, it was aaid, B.C. 2700) or Sidon was the more
ancient town, let ua give a aummary view of the nature
of the Phoenician ctviliaation at the period of ita highest
, celebrity — namely, from b.c. 1200 to B.C. 700, at which

GHAllfiSBS'S INFOBlLLTIOy FOB THS PSOPLG.

tint* we and Tjn txmMng » prttiding inflaenoe over
the other Phoenioiftu oominunitles. . .

The Phoenicianf were the great trading nation of
antiquity. Situated at to convenient a point on the
Mediterranean, it devolved on them to transport to tUe
lea-sbore the commodities of the East, brought to them
overland by Arabian and Egyptian caravans, and from
the sea-shore to distribute them among the expecting
nations of the West. Nor were they without valuable
products of their own. The sand of thr'ir coasts was

Sarticularly suitable for the manufacture of glass ;
leir bays abounded in a species of fish which produced
a fine purple dye — the celebrated Tyrian purple of
antiquity; and m various parts of the country there
were excellent mines of iron and copper. It was, in
fkct, essential for the general interests of the race that
the people inhabiting that portion of the Mediterranean
coasts should devote themselves to commerce. In anti-
cipation of this, as it might seem, the mountains of
Libanus, which separated the narrow Phoenician terri-
tory from Syria, were stocked with the best timber,
which, transported over the short distance which inter-
vened between these mountains and the sea, abun-
dantly supplied the demands of the Phoenician dock-
yards. There was something in the PhoeDiciau charac-
ter, also, which suited the requirements ot their geo-
graphical position. Skilful, enterprising, griping in
their desire for wealth, and in other respects resem-
bling much their neighbours the Jews, tc> whom they
were allied in race, and whose language was radically
identical with the'.' own — theirs was essentially the
merchant type of ch»:acter.

Standing as tha Phoenicians did as the people by
whom the exchange between the East and the West
was managed, a complete view of their life and manner
of activity should eiahtace first, their relations with the
East — that is, their overland trade with Assyria,
Arabia, Egypt, Persia, and India; secondly, their rela-
tions with the West — that is, their maritime trade
with the various nations of the Mediterranean and
Atlantic coasts; and thirdly, the peculiar character of
mind which either accompanied or resulted from the
consciousness of such a position in the great family
of mankind.

With regard to the overland trade of the Phoenicians
with the Eastern countries, little requires to be said
except that it was one attended with great risks — the
journey of a caravan across the deserts, and through
the roaming' tribes which separated Phoenicia from
interior Asia, being a more serious enterprise than a
long sf't voyage. It is probable that the Phceniciaus
mauag d this commerce not in their own persons, but
as wealthy speculative merchants, dealing in a skilful
manner with the native Egyptian, Assyrian, or Ara-
bian cara>°<\n-proprietors, with whom they maintained
rn understood connection. At the same time it is
likely that they stimulated and regulated the Eastern
commerce, by means of Phoenician agents or emissaries
despatched into the interior with general instructions,
just as in later times European agents were often de-
i-jiatched into the interior of Africa to direct the move-
ments of native merchants. It was in their maritime
trade with the West, however, that the Phoenicians
chiefly exhibited the resources of their own character.
Shipping the Oriental commodities, as well as their
native products, at Tyre or Sidon, they carried them to
ftll the coasts of the Mediterranean aa far as Spain,
selling them there at immense profit, and returning
with freights oi Western goods. With some of the
nations of the Mediterranean their intercourse would
be that of one civilised nation with another ; with
others, and especially with those of the West, it must
have been an intercourse similar to that of a British
■hip with those rude islanders who exchange their
valuable products for nails, bits of looking-glass,
and other trifles. Whether their customers were civi-
lised or sav'tge, however, the Phoenicians reaped profits
from then-j. Their aim was to monopolise the com-
merce of the Mediterranean. ' If at any time/ it it {
74

said, 'their ships bound on a voyage observed that •
stranger kept them company, or followed them in
their track, they were sure to get rid of him, or de-
ceive him if they could ; and in this they went so
far aa to venture the loss of their ships, and even of
their lives, so that they could but destroy or disappoint
him ; so jealous were they of foreigners^ and so bent on
keeping all to themselves. And to add to the dangera
of the sea, and discourage other nations from trading,
thev practised piracy, or pretended to be at war
with such as they met when they thought themaelvea
strongest.' This policy succeeded so far, that hardly
a merchant ship was to be seen in the Mediterranean
not manned by Phoenicians. From this extension of
the Phoenician commerce throughout the Mediter-
ranean resulted, by necessity, an extensive system of
colonisation. The distance, for instance, of Spain fri;m
Phoenicia, rendered all the greater by the ancient cus-
torn of always sailing close by the coast, made it neces-
sary for the Phoenician traders to have intermediate
ports, settlement", or factories, to which their vessels
might resort, not to say that such settloments were
required for the collection of the produce which was to
be taken back to Phoenicia. Accordingly, in process of
time, Phoenician colonies were established at all avp.ii-
able points of the Mediterranean — on the coasts of
Africa, Sicily, Sardinia, and Spain, and in the Bsieario
Islands; the rising maritime spirit of the Greeks ex-
cluding the Phoenicians IVom the i£gean and the coasts
of Asia Minor. Among the most ancient of the colonics
from Tyre were Carthage and Utica on the African
coast, and Gades (Cadiz) in Spain ; all of which were
founded before the first of the Greek Olympiads (b.c.
894). From these afterwards arose smaller settlements,
which diffused the Phoenician agency still more exten-
sively among the uncivilise<l nations of Africa and
western Europe. Gades in Spain, situated, according
to the ancient mode of navigation, at a distance of
seventy-five days' sail from Tyre or Sidon — a distance
larger than that which now divides Liverpool from
Bombay — was a colony of special importance; first, as
commanding the inland Spanish trade, particularly
valuable at that time, inasmuch as the gold and silver
mines of Spain caused i I; to be regarded as the Mexico
or Peru of the ancient world; ana secondly, as fcrniing
a point from which the Phoenician commerce could bo
still farther extended along the extra-Mediterranean
shores. From this point, we are told, the Phoenician
ships extended their voyages southwards for thirty
days' sail along the western coast of Africa, and north-
wards as far as Britain, where they took in tin from
the mines of Cornwall, and even as far as the Baltic,
where they collected amber. Upon what a scale of
profit must these expeditions have been conducted,
when, from Tyre to Cornwall, not a merchant ship
besides those of the Phoenicians was to be seen ! And
who can tell what influence these Phoenician visits
may have had on the then rude nations bordering the
Atlantic! — or how far these ante-historic Phoenician
impulses may have stimulated the subsequent career
of these nations I Like the visit of an English mer-
chantman now to a South Sea island, so must have
been the visit of a Phoenician trading vessel 3000
years ago to the Britons of Cornwall.

As might be expected, this great merchant people
were among the most cultured of antiquity, and
especially skilled in all the arts of luxurious living.
The 27th chapter of the book of Ezekiel presents
a most striking picture of the pride and magnificence
of the Tyrians, and embodies many minute parti-
culars relative to Phoenician customs and mode of
life. Indeed it has justly been pronounced the most
early and most authentic record extant relative to the
commerce of the ancients. We shall therefore (?uote
part of it, inserting parenthetical explanations. 'O
thou,' says the prophet, ' that art situate at the entry
of the sea, which art a merchant of the people for many
ishs, thus saith the Lord God, Tyrus, thou hast
a*iu, I am of perfect beauty. Thy border* are in the

mSTOBf OF AXCISNT NATIOKS.

people
ty, and

living.
prescntB
ificeiice

parti-
lode of
le most

to the

<7UOtO

e entry
ir many
)u hast
I in the

m\i»t of the maa, thy builden haye perfected thy
beauty, they have made all thy ihipboards of fir-
trees of Seuir (Mount Hermon); they hare taken
cedan from Lebanon to make masts for thee. Of the
oaks (some translate aldem) of Bashan have they made
thine oars; the company of the Ashuritea have made
thy benches of ivory, brought out of the isles of Chittim
(better translated "thy benches" — that is, seats in
a pleasure-galley — have they made of ivory inlaid in
box from the isles of Chittim — supposed to be Cyprus,
Corsica, or Pontus in Asia Minor). Fine linen with
broidered work from Egypt was that which thou
sproadest forth to be thy sail (some interpret ^a^; but
the reference is probably to a pleasure-vessel, whose
sails might consist of fine iinen) ; blue and purple from
the isles of Elishah (the Grecian countries) was that
which covered thee (were used as awnings — Laconian
purple being more suitable for this purpose than the
more expensive Tyrian). The inhabitants of Zidon
(Sidon) and Arvad (Aradus) were thy mariners: thy
wise men, Tyrus, that were in thee, were thy pilots.
The ancients of Oebal (another Phoenician city) and
the wise men thereof were in thee thy caikers; all
the ships of the sea with their mariners were in thee
to occupy thy merchandise. (This passage is very
minute — Tyre, it seems, supplied its own pilots, but
drew its mariners and shipwrights from other parts of
Phoenicia.) They of Persia, and of Lud, and of Phut,
were in thine army, thv men of war: they hanged the
shield and helmet in thee; they set forth thy comeli-
ness (Tyre, it seems, like her daughter Carthage, era-
ployed mercenary troops, drawing them chiefly from
the nomad tribes of Persia, &c.) .... Tarahish (here
Tarshish means Tarlessus, the Spanish colony of the
Phoenicians) was thy merchant (agent) by reason of
the multitude of all kind of riches; with silver, iron, tin,
and lead, they traded in thy fairs. Javan (the Grecian
countries). Tubal, and Meschach (the countries near
the Black and Caspian Seas), they were thy merchants;
they traded the persons of men (slaves — Circassian
and Georgian slave , valued then as now) and vessels
of brass in thy market. They of the house of Togarmah
(Armenia) traded in thy fairs with horses, and horse-
men, and mules. The men of Dedan (either India or
southern Arabia) were thy merchants ; many isles
were the merchandise of thine hand: they brought thee
for a present horns of ivory and ebony (either tusks of
ivory or horns, ivori/ and ebony). Syria (Coele, Syria,
and Mesopotamia) was thy merchant by reason of the
multitude of the wares of thy making : they occupied
in thy fairs with emeralds, pur^)'.e, and broidered work,
and tine linen, and coral, and agate. Judah, and the
land of Israel, they were thy merchants; they traded
in thy market wheat of Minnith and Pannag, and
honey, and oil, and balm. (The proximity of a corn-
growing country like Judea was of great advantage
to the Phoenicians — the other prc4ucta mentioned were
also supplied from Judea; the balm from the neigh-
bourhood of Lake Genesareth.) Damascus was thy
merchant in the multitude of the wares of thy making,
for the multitude of all riches; in the wine of Helbon
(Aleppo) and white wool, Dan also and Javan (here
part of Arabia is meant), going to and fro, occupied in
thy fairs: bright iron, cassia, and calamus, were in thy
market. Dedan was thy merchant in precious clothes
for chariots. Arabia (the Bedouin Arabs), and all the
princes of Kedar, they occupied with thee in lambs,
and rams, and goats.'

Among the contributions hiade by the Phoenicians
to the west, were alphabetical writing, the Greek alpha-
bet being a derivative from the Phccnician ; the scale
of weight; and that of coined money. Having made
these and other contributions to the west, Phoenicia
begiia about 700 b. c. to decline in jmpuvtance ; the
Ionian Greeks, and latterly the Egyptians, becoming
its commercial rivals on the Mediterranean; and the
invasions of the Assyrians from the east depriving it of
independence. Subdued by the Assyrians and Raby-
loniaut, Phoenicia waa transferred by them to the Per-

sinai. Among the Uit of the t>haeniciaa aoUerementi
waa the circumnavigation of Africa b.o. 600 — a feat
undertaken by Phoenician sailon at the command of
the Egyptian king Nekos, one of the immediate suc-
cessors of Psammetik; and, aa is now believed,
really performed — the course pursued being from the
Red Sm round Africa to Spain — the reverse, therefore,
of that followed by Vasco de Gama 2000 yean later.
About the time that Phoenicia began to wane, her
colony, Carthage, assumed her place in the aflain of
the world. Carthaginian civilisation waa essentially a
mere repetition of the Phcenician, although under a dif-
ferent form of government: Carthaginian history inter-
weaves itself with that of the Romani. (See No. 67.)

Palestine— the Jews.
Palestine extends from north to south a length of
about 200 miles, and 50 in breadth ; and is therefore,
in point of size, of nearly the same extent as Scotland.
The general character of the country is that of a hilly
reeion, interspersed with moderately fertile vales; and
bemg thus irregular in surface, it possesses a number
of brooks or streams, which for the most part are
swollen considerably after rains, but are almost dry in
the hot seasons of the year. The present condition of
Palestine scarcely corresponds with its ancient fertility.
This is chiefly attributable to the devastating effects of
perpetual wars; and some physical changes have also
contributed to the destruction of agricultural industry.
Yet, after all, so excellent would the soil appear to be,
and BO ample its resources, that Canaan may still be
characterised as a land flowing with milk and honey.

The history of the extraordinary nation which once
inhabited this land, must be so much more familiar to
our readers than that of any other ancient nation, that
all that is necessary here is a brief sketch, such as will
assist the imagination in tracing with due complete-
ness the general career of the East till the establish-
ment of the Persian empire. According to the ac-
counts given of the Jews in Scripture, and in their
history by Josephus, they were descended from Abra-
ham, the tenth in descent from Noah, through his
second son Shem. According to Josephus, Abraham,
who was born iu the 292d year (according to other
authorities, in the 352d year) after the Deluge, * left
the land of Chaldea when he was seventy-five years
old, and, at the command of God, went into Canaan,
and therein he dwelt himself, and left it to his posterity.
He was a person of great sagacity, both for understand-'
ing of all things and persuading his hearers, and not
mistaken in b.'j opinions; for which reason he began to
have higher notions of virtue than others had, and he
determined to renew and to change the opinion all men
happened then to have concerning God ; for he was the
first that ventured to publish this notion, that there was
but ONE God, the Creator of the universe; and that as
to other gods, if they contributed anything to the hap-
piness of men, that each of them afforded it only accord-
ing to His appointment, and not by their own power.
For which doctrines, when the Chaldteans and other
people of Mesopotamia raised a tumult against him, 1.-
thought fit to leave that country, and at the command
of God he came and lived in the land of Canaan. And
when he was there settled, he built an altar, and per-
formed a sacrifice to God.' After the death of Al'ii-
ham's son Isaac, his younger son Jacob remained for a
number of years in Canaan, surrounded by a family of
twelve 3on8, one of whom, Joseph, as related in Scrip-
ture, became the cause of the removal of his father and
brethren, and all belonging to them, into Egypt. The
Hebrew emigrants were seventy in number, and formed
at the first a respectable colony among the Egyptians.
Jacob died after having been seventeen years in Egypt,
and his body was carried by Joseph to Hebron, and
buried in the sepulchre of his father and grandfather.
Joseph also died in Egypt at the age of 110, and at
length hix brethren died likewise, f^h of the twelve
sons of Jacob became the progenitor of a family or
tribe, and the twelve tribes, personified by the term

CHAMBERS'S INFOBMA.TION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Imukl, continued to reside in Egypt, where they in-
OKOsed both in number and in wealth. Their rapid
increase and prosperity soon excited the jealousy of
the inastera of the country ; and from being in high
favour, the different tribes gradually fell under the
lash of power, and came to be treated as public slaves.
The entiit! body of Israelites, guided by Moses, lied
from Egypt in the year 1490 before Christ, at a time
when 'thebes, Me-nphis, and the other magnificent
cities of that country, were in all their glory. Pro-
ceeding in a north-easterly direction from lUmeses
(near the site of modem Cairo), they went through the
level region of the land of Goshen (now a barren sandy
plain) to the head of the Oulf of Suez, the western
bruich of the Red Sea. Here they crossed in a mira-
culous manner to the opposite shore, to a spot now
called the Wells of Moses, where, according to the
Scripture narrative, they sang their song of thanks-
giving for their deliverance. The country in which
they had now arrived was a portion of Arabia Petnea,
consisting of a dismal barren wilderness, now called
the Desert of Sinai, from the principal mountain which
rises within it. From the point at which the Israelites
had crossed the Rod Sea from Egypt, they were con-
ducted by a most circuitous and tedious route towards
the Promised Land of Canaan. Their tiresome journey
extended over a period of forty years, and was not
completed till all the Hebrews who were above twenty
years of age when they loft the land of Egypt (except-
ing Caleb and Joshua) hod died, and a new genera-
tion, possessing greater courage and confidence in the
Almighty, had succeeded them. In the trackless wilder-
ness through which they were led, their multitudes, as
we learn from Scripture, could neither have traced
their way nor procured subsistence without a con-
tinued miracle. The hand of God brought for them
streams of water out of the flinty rock; rained manna
or bread from heaven ; and gave a pillar of cloud to
direct their journeys through the day, and a pillar of
fire by night. He delivered the tables of a moral law,
comprehending the ten commandments, to Moses their
leader ; and promulgated a set of regulations for the
ceremonies of wors^in, the establishment of a separate
order devoted to religion and learning, nnd fur the
civil government of the nation. The Hebrews had
thus a regular polity and written laws when most other
nations knew only the law of the sword, or of savage
animal superiority.

The country on the shore of the Mediterranean
which was allotted as a scttlomcitt to this peo|)le, was
at that time occupied by many wail ike tribes, who had
grown strong in its fertile plains and valleys; and the
generation of the Hebrews who were conducted into it
were compelled to fight for its possession. The struggle
was not of long continuance. The whole land was con-
quered in the year n.c. 14.50.

Accord!. ig to the account given in the '2Gth chapter
of the book of Numbers, the Hebrew nation thus brought
out of the laud of £g}'pt and settled in Cuiioan amounted
to GDI, 730 souls, unto whom the land wns divided for
an inheritance, according to the number of individuals
in the respective tribes. The tribes, and their fighting
men above twenty years of age, were reckoned iis fol-
low: — Tribe of Reuben (the eldest son of Jacob) 43,730;
Simeon 2'J,200 ; Gad 40,500 ; .Judah 76,500 ; Issachar
64,300 ; Zebulun 60,500 ; Mauasseh .'J2,70(t ; Ephraim
32,500 (the tribes of Manosseh and Ephraim were both
from Joseph); Benjamin 45,600; Dan 64,400; Asher
.'>3,400 ; and Naphtali 45,400. Among these twelve
tribes the land was divided. The tribe of Levi (to
which bciongcd AIoscs, Aaron, and Elea^ar tlie high
priest), amounting to 23,000 males from a month old
and upwards, received no share of the laud : l>cing set
apart for the priesthood, the tenth or tithe of the general
produce was assigned them as their perpetual inherit-
ance. By makins a special ap;reenicnt with the other
tribes that they should assist thcni against the conimon
enemy, the two tribes of Gad and Reuben, and the half
tribe of Manaweh, wore permitted to appropriate land
7C

for their inheritance in Gilead and Boshan, on tlie
Arabian side of the Jordan.

Moses dying before the inheritance wm entered upon,
was succeeded by Joshua as a leader, and by him the
Israelites were conducted across the Jordan. The poli-
tical government of the various tribes, after their con-
quest and settlement of Canaan, appeals to have been
republican, with military leaders called Judges; but
these acted by the direction of the priesthood, who
were immediately counselled by the Deity within the
sanctuary. This period of separate government in
tribes, called the Period of the Judges, lasted oOO
years (b.c. 1427-1112), and was one of daring actions
and great deliverances — the heroic age of the Jews,

The epoch of kings succeeded that of judges. The
reign of Saul, their first monarch, though the people
were stronger by being united, was gloomy and troubled.
David, who succeeded, was a soldier and a conqueror.
He rendered the Hebrews formidable to the whole of
their enemies, and save them a regular and defensible
position, expelling their old antagonists from every part
of the country, lie left an empire peaceful, respected,
and strong; and, what was of as much importance, he
selected from among his sons a successor who was
able to improve all these advantages, and to add to the
progress which his countrymen had already made in
prosperity. Under Solomon, the name of the Hebrew
government being able to protect its subjects in other
countries, the people and their king began to employ
themselves in commerce. Their trade was at first en-
grailed on that of the Phoenicians of Tyre. A greater
contrast cannot be imagined than between the troubles
of the time of the Judges (only 100 years before),
and the peace, security, and enjoyment of this reign.
'And the king made silver to be in Jerusalem us
stones, and cedars made he to be as sycamore trees
that are in the vale for abundance; and Judah and
Israel were many; as the sand which is by the sea-
shore for multitude, eating, and drinking, and making
merry.' (1 Kings, x. 27.)

After the death of Solomon, the country fell into the
same divisions which had weakened it in the time of
the Judges, I'^ach of the districts of North and South
Israel was under :i, separate king, and the people were
exposed both to the attacks of their enemies and tu
quarrels wich each other. Their history is a succession
of agitating conflicts for independence, and of unex-
pected and remarkable deliverances, of a similar nature
to those of the earlier jierioJ, and they continued for
about the same length of time (3I!0 years); but they
are marked by fewer of those traits }f heroic devotion
which distinguished the epoch of the Judges. The
backslidings, errors, and inisgovernment of their kings,
is the chief and painful subject which is presented to
us; and though these are relieved at times by the ap-
pearance of such monurchs as Josiah, Jehoshapbat, and
llczokiah, yet the whole history of this period is over-
cast with the gloominess of progressive decline. By far
the most delightful parts of it are those which relate to
the lives of the prophets, who were raised up at inter-
vals to warn the nation and its rulers of the iute which
they incurred by forsaking the religion of their fathers.
These inspired men sometimes sprang up from among
the humblest classes of the community: one from 'the
herdsmen of Tckoa,' another from ' ploughing with
twelve yoke of oxen ;' several were of the priestlv order,
and one (Isaiah) is said to have been of royal lineage;
but the works of all are marked with the same sacred-
ness, force, and authority. They reprehend their coun-
trymen, in the most eloquent strains, at one time for
idolatry, and at another for hypocrisy ; and their in-
dignation is expressed with the some freedom and dig-
nity against the vices of the highest and the lowest.

Of the two kingdoms into which Palestine had di-
vided itself after the death of Solomon (u. c. 975), the
northern, called the Kingdom of Israel, was conquered
by the Assyrians of Nineveh (». c. 722), who earned off
many thousands of the people into captivity. Little is
known of their fate. By some tbuy are supposed to

HISTORY OP ANCIENT NATIONS.

hare been civrried to India, by others to Tartary : * what
became of all the Israielites of the ten tribes,' is still a
question with historiann. The southern kingdom, called
the Kingdom of .ludak. retained its independence till
B.C. 688, when it waa invaded and subdued by Ne-
buchadnezzar, kiiif; of Habylon, who destroyed Jerusa-
lem, and carried away a great number of the principal
Jews into captivity at Babylon. On the subversion of
the Babylonian dominion by Cyrus, seventy years after-
wards, the captives, to the number of 42,360, were
permitted to return to their own land, and rebuild
Jerusalem. At this period, the whole of Palestine
merged in the growing Persian empire.

The Assyrians and Babylonians.

That large extent of level country situated between
and on the banks of the two great rivers, the Euphrates
and the Tigris, was, in the earliest antiquity, the seat
of a Semitic population living under an organised
government. The origin of the Assyrian state is thus
related in Scripture (Genesis, x.) — ' And Cush (the son
of Ham, the son of Noah) begat Nimrod: he began to
be a mighty one in the earth. He was a mighty hunter
before the Lord : wherefore it is said. Even as Nimrod
the mighty hunter before the Lord. And the be-
ginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and
Accod, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar. Out of
that land went forth Asshur (translated in the margin,
" Out of that land he — Nimrod — went forth into Assy-
ria")! and builded Nineveh, and the city Rehoboth,
and Calah, and Besen between Nineveh and Calah:
the same is a great city.' There are two interjireta-
tions of this passage, according ns the text or the
marginal reading is adopted. The one is, that a
mighty conqueror of the race of Ham (primitive
Ethiopic influence ?) made an irruption into Mesopo-
tamia, which belonged to the children of Shem, and
built there Babylon on the P^uphratcs, and other cities;
becoming, as the Eastern authors say, the first king in
the world, and the first man who wore a crown ; and
that, driven out of their possessions by this conqueror,
a part of the children of Shem proceeded farther east,
and built Nineveh on the Tigris. The other is, that
Nimrod himself, going from Babylon, built Nineveh.
In either sense^ the passage represents distinctly the
early condition of this part of the world — an extensive
plain fertilised by the two rivers, the Tigris and the
Euphrates ; Mid with great cities scattered over it,
gathering the population together at points, if we may
80 speak, into large solid masses. Of these cities, the
most important ultimately were Babylon, built, ac-
cording to the above account, by Nim'od, n.c. 2217;
and Nmeveh (called Ninos by the Greeks), built, ar-
cording to the same authority, either by Asshur or
Nimrod about the same time, but afterwards rebuilt
and enlarged, according to ancient tradition, by a
great king, Ninus, u.c. 1230, down to which period it
had been inferior in size to the Rcscn mentioned in the
Scriptural text. With these two cities as capitals, the
country divided itself into two corresponding parts or
kingdoms — the kingdom of Assyria proper, including,
besides part of Mesopotamia, the country io the right
of the Tigris as far as Mount Zagros ; and the kingdom
of Babylonia, including the western part of Mesopo-
tamia, together with the country to the left of the
Euphrates as far as Syria proper. The two kingdoms,
however, are often included under the joint name of
Assyria ; a word which, as well as the shorter form
Syria, was often employed by the ancient Greek writers
to designate the whole region lying along the courses
of the two great riv<;r8 from the Blaclt Hoa to the
northern angle of the Persian Gulf,

Although Babylon was, according to Scripture, the
earlier of the two powers, yet the Assyrians of Ni-
neveli attained such strength under their hero Ninus,
as to reduce the Babylonians to a «pei;io8 of depen-
dence. Under Ninus, and his wife and successor the
groat coiiqueress Sumirai lis, says ancient mythical
history, the city of tV^e 'I'igris extended its doniiuions

far and wide, from Egypt to the border of India. This
empire, known in the common chronologies by the
name of * The Assyrian Empire,' lasted, according to
the usual accounts, Ave or six centuries, during which
it was governed, in the absolute Oriental manner, by
the successors of Ninus and Semiramis. Of these
several are mentioned in Scripture — Phul, the contem-
porary of Menahem, king of Israel (b.c. 761), and
Tiglath Pileser (b. o. 730), both of whom were mixed
up with the affairs of Israel and Judoh; Salmanassar,
contemporary with Hezekiah, king of Judah, and
Hosea, king of Israel, by whom it was that Samaria
was taken (b. c. 722), and the Israelites led into capti-
vity (n.c. 722) ; and Sennacherib, or Sanherib (d. c. 7 U>,
who attacked Egypt, and whose fruitless invasion of
Judah forms the subject of the striking narrative in
the 18th and 19th chapters of the second book of Kings.
The last of the great line of the Assyrian kings of
Nineveh was the luxurious Sardanapalus, in whose
reign the empire was dissolved, through the instru-
mentality of its revolted subjects the Medes (b.c. 626).

After Nineveh, the greatest city in the Assyrian
dominion was Babylon. Even while under the domi-
nion of the kings of Nineveh, Babylon appears to have
possessed a special organisation under its own chiefs,
several of whose names — such as Belesis (n.c. 888),
ond Nabonassar (b. c. 747) — have been preserved ; and,
together with the whole province of which it was the
capital, to have pursued a special career. The peculiar
element in the Babylonian society which distinguished
it from that of Assyria proper, was its Chaldecan
priesthood. ' The Chalda:an order of priests,' says Mr
Grote, * appear to have been peculiar to Babylon and
other towns in its territory, espocially between that
city and the Persian Gulf; the vast, rich, and lofty
temple of Belus in that city served them at once as a
place of worship and an astronomical observatory ; and
it was the paramount ascendancy of this order which
seems to have caused the Babylonian people generally
to be spoken of as Chaldeeaus, though some writers
have supposed, without any good proof, a conquest of
Assyrian Babylon by barbarians called Chaldseans from
the mountains near the Euxine. There were exagge-
rated statements respecting the antiquity of their astro-
nomical observations,* which cannot be traced, as oi
definite and recorded date, higher than the era of
Nabonassar (n.c. 747), as well as respecting the ex-
tent of their acquired knowledge, so largely blended
with astrolo&:ical fancies and occult influences of the
heaienly bodies on human affairs. But however incom-
ptfite thci- i,' wledge may appear when judged by the
Htandard c* ■ ier-times, there can be no doubt that,
i;'^>raparcd with any of their contemporaries of the sixth
oer.tury b.c. — either Egyptians, Greeks, or Asiatics —
they stood pre-eminent, and had much to teach, not
only to I'hales and 'Pythagoras, but even to later in-
quirers, such as Eudoxus and Aris*otle. The concep-
ti- . ' f the revolving celestial sphere, the gnonior, and
the division of the day into iwelve parts, are affirmed
iiy Herodotus to have been iirst taught to the Greeks
by the J^abylonians.' This learned Chaldecan class
sreins to have pervaded the general mass of Babylonian
society, as the corresponding priest-caste in Egypt per-
vaded Egyptian soricty, with this difference, that Bahy-
Ionian society does not appear to have been parcelled
out like the Egyptian into a rigorous system of castes.

On the dissolution of tlie Assyrian empire of Nineveh
by the Mfdes (b.c. 626), the Chaldecan fragment of it
rose to eminence on its r'.'ns, chiefly by the efforts of
Nabopolassar, a viceroy of the last Assyrian king.
Establishing Babylonia as an independent power in
the east, Nabopolassar canio into collision with Nekos,
king of Egypt, who was at that time extending his
empire into Asia. It was in opposing Nekos (Pharooh-
Necho) on his march to Babylon that Josiah, king of

* When jMexniider the Oreat waa in Babylon, the Chaldmans
told .ilin their order had bojrun their astrooomloal observatloua
4y»,i,<K)0 yi-ars before ho waa bom.

CHAMBBBffS INFORMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

Judah. was slain. At length (B.a 608; Nabuchad-
nezzar, or Nebuchodonoaor, the son of Nfcbtpolassar,
defeated Neko«, and annexed all bin ccnquects ,n
Asia to bis father's kingdom. Two years afterwa.d8
tbe same prince took Jerusalem, and carritd awav a
number of captives to Babylon, among whom we-e
Daniel and bis ccmpanions. Succeeduig his father,
B.0 605, Nebuchadnezzar reigned over Bebylon forty-
three years (b.c. 605-561); and during his reign ex-
tended the empire to the Mediterranean and the bor-
ders of Egypt, adding to it Palestine, Phoenicia, &c.
With his countenance the Modes and Lyd'. is destroyed
Nineveh (B.C. 601). The great abduction of J'j\.ish
captives ay his orders took (.lace b.c. 588. I' ^ was
succeeded (b.c. 561) by his son, Evil-Merodach, who
was dethroned (ac. 559) by his brother-in-law Nerig-
lissar, whose son and successor, Laboroso-archod, was
dethroned, after a brief reign, by Nabonnedus, the
Belshazzar of Scripture (b.c. 555); in the eighteenth
year of whose reign (b.c. 538) Babylon was taken by
Cyrus, and passed into the hands of the Persians.

It was during the reigu of Nebuchadnezzar that lAe
city of Pnb'-'-':' »t*-.inid that glory which has rendered
it a knor.'„ jrd to all who are at all acquainted with
history. Herodotus, who saw the city in its decline,
gives a desc ' ./tion of ifi which has f-.eemed incredible
to many, .ichcvgh now fully ver'.fied. ' The city,
divided in th^ middle by the E'iph»ate», was surrounded
with walls i' ckness 75 feet, in height aOO feet,
and in con.jja 480 stadia, cr about 60 ef our miles.'
Within this c uU Hu.e was included, besides the
housei), a sv^"" ^f vacant ground, gardens, pasture, &■•.
sufficient to ccommodate the country pojiulation j,i
case of invas!'^'. . the 'leight and strength of the walls
rendered the city itself to all appearance impregnable.
* These walls formed an exact square, jach side of
which was 120 stadia, or 15 miles in len?,'th; and were
built of large bricks cemented together with bitumen,
a glutinous slime which issues out of the earth in that
country, and in a short time becomes harder than the
very brick or stone which it cements. The city was
encompassed without the wails by a vast ditch tilled
with water, and lined with bricks on both sides; and
as the earth that was dug out of it served to make the
bricks, we may judge of the depth and largeness if
the ditch from the height and thickness of the walls.
In the whole compasL' of the walls there .vere a hun-
drsd gates — that is, twenty-five on each side, all m^de
of solid brass. At intervals round the walls were 250
towers, i'roin each v.*' the twentj'-five gates thare was
a straight street extending tu th orresponding gate
in the opposite wall; the whole numi-sr of streets wad
therefore lifty, crossing each other as rig'.-.- a'l^les, and
each fifteen miles long. The breadth of *\e streets
was about 150 feet. By their intersection the city was
div- 'ed ir .o 676 squares, each about two miles and a-
quarter in compass, round which were the houses, three
or four storeys in height ; the vacant spaces within
being laid out in gardens,' tie. Within the city the
two greatest edifices were the rryal palace with its
hangitig gardens, and the temple of Belus, cor.iposed of
eight towers built one above r>"other, to the enormous
height, it is said, of a furlong.

Without the citv were numerous canals, embank-
ments, &c. for the purnose of irrigating the country,
which, as little o- no ruin fell, depeude(4 nn the river
for moisture. ' The execution of such .olossal warli'
as thoKe of Babylon and Egypt,' it has been remarked^
'demonstrates habitc of regular industry, a oouoen-
trated population under one government, and above
all, an implicit submission to J.e legal and !iingly
Bwuy — contrasted forcioly with Lhf. small self-govern-
ing communities of Ureace snd wef5ttm Europe, whe:-e
the will uf the individual citii«n was ho much more
energetic' in tbe latter countries only such public
works were attempted iw were within the limits of mo-
derate t««t«. Nineveh is said to have licen larger even
than i,abylon, and is described as an oblong, thre«
divya' journey round— that is, upwards of 60 luiles.
78

The Medei and Persians.

Extending, as we have said, from the Mediterranean
to the Indus, the Assyrian empire had included not
only the chief Sumitic nations f western Asia, but also
that portion of the Indo-Oermanio far.iily which was
contained between Mount Zagros and the river Indus.
Essentially a prolongation of the great race which in-
habited Hindoostan, the nature of their country — a vast
table-land, here and there rising into hills, or present-
ing spots of great fertility — had made them quite diflfe-
lent in character and Labits from the settled and
stereotyped Hindoos. All parts of this plateau of Iran,
as it was called, including the present countries of
Persia, Cabool, and Beloochist;in, were not alike ; in
some portions, where the soil was fertile, there existed
a dense agricultural population; iu others, the inhabi-
tants were nomadic horse-breeders, cattle-rearers, and
shepherds. All the tribes, however, were bound to-
gether by the ties of a common Indo-Persio language,
quite distinct from that spoken by their Semitic neigh-
bor rs and masters, and by a common religion. Tnis
religion, called the Religion of Zend, a modification
probably of some more ancient form, from which Hin-
dooism may also have sprung, was taught by Zerdusht
or Zoroaster, a great native reformer and spiritual
teachei, wno II-"pd six or seven centuries before Christ.
The principal docrine of his religion was that of the
existence of two great enanations from the Supreme
and perfect Deity — ti.. oi.o a good spirit (Ormuzd),
who created man, and fitter. b<m for happiness ; the
other an evil spirit, named Ahriraan, who has marred
the beauty of creation by introducing evil into it.
Between these two spirits and their adherents there is
an incessant struggle for tne mastery; but ultimately
Ormuzd will conquer, and Abriman and evil will bo
banished from the bosom of creation into eternal dark-
ness. The worship annexed to this doctrine was very
simple, dispensing with temples or images, and con-
sisting merely of certain solemn rites performed on
mountain tops, &c. Fire. anJ light, and the snn, were
worshipped either as symbols or rvs inferior deities. A
caste of priests, called the Magi, answering in some
respects to the Brahiulns uf India or the Chaldasans of
Babylon, superintended these ceremonies, and com-
mented on the religion of Zoroaster.

Various of the tribes of Iran, associating themselves
t >gether, constituted little nations. ThuH adjacent to
Assyria, and separated from it by Mount Zagros, was
an agglomeration of seven tribes or villages, under the
special name of the Medes, the country which they in-
habited beiii;;' iaencc calle<l Media. South from Media,
and nearer the sea, was another district of Iran, called
Persis or Persia, inhabited also by an association of
tribes calling themselves the Persians. Other nations
0.' Iran were the I'arthiaiis, the Bactrians, &,c. — all
originally subject to the .Assyrian empire.

Median history begins with a hero king called
Ueiokes (,n.r. 710 'j.>7), who effected some iuiportant
changes in the constitution of >hr nation, and founded
the Median capital Ekbatana in one of the most plea-
sant sites in the world. His son, Phraortes (h.c. 657-
635), pursued a career of conquest, subjugated Persis
and other districts of Iran, and perishe>'. in xi invasion
of Assyria. He was succeeded by his son Cy,i,xare8,
who continued hisdosigne of conquest, and extended the
Median dominion as far westward into Asia Minor as
the river Halys. He was engaged in a repetition of his
father's attempt against Nineveh, when he was called
away to defend his kingdom against a great roving
population, belonging, as is most likely, to the Scythian
branch of the Caucasian race (althougl. some reckon
theiu Mongols), who, bursting with their herds of .'lorses
and juarej from their native seat in '..'entral Asia, had
driven the Cimmerians, a kindred race, before them
into Af'.A Minor, and then had poured themselves over
the plateau of Iran. Defeating Cyasaros, they kept
him from hia thvoiie for a period of twcnty-ciglit yetrg,
during which they ruled in savage fashion over Media,
Persia, jtc. At length, having oMAssiuatcil their chiefj

HISTORY OP ANCIENT NATIONS.

com-

by a itratagem, Cyaxares regained his dorainioni, and
drove the invaders back "uto the north. He then
renewed his attempt agaiuit Nineveh ; took it ; and re-
duced the Assyrian empire, with the exception of Baby-
lonia, under his dominion. The Median empire, thus
formed, he bequeathed (b. c. 595) to his son Astyases.

Astyages having given his daughter Mandanc in
marriage to a Persian chieftain named Cambyses, the
issue of this marriage ivrs the famous Cyrus, the founder
of tbo Persian monarchy. The circumstances which
led to the revolt of the Persians under Cyrus against
the Medoj, and the dethronement by him of his grand-
fatlicr Astyages (b.c. 560), had been woven into a
romance resembling the story of Romulus, even so
early as the age of Herodotus (b.c. 408), so that that
accurate historian could not ascertain the paiiiclars.
' The native Persians,' says Mr Grot'-, ' whom Cyns"
conducted were an aggregate of seven agricultural and
four nomadic tribes, all of them rude, hardy, and brave,
dwelling in a mourtainous region, clothed in skins,
ignorant of wine or fruit, of any of the coromcnest
luxuries of life, and despising the very idea of purchase
or sale. Their tribes were very unequal in point of
dignit}'; first in estimation among them stood the
Pasargudse ; and the first clan among the Pasargadoe were
the Achoomenidee, to whom Cyrus belonged. Whether
his relationship to the Median king whom he dethroned
was a fact or a politic fiction we cannot well determine,
but Xenophon ^ives us to understand that the con-
quest of Media by the Persians was reported to him as
having been an obstinate and protracted struggle.'

Master of Media, the Persian chief in his turn be-
came a great Oriental conqueror ; indeed all the
Oriental conquests bear the same character. A no-
madic race, led by a chief of great abilities, invades the
more organised states, and conquers them; the chief
assumes the government, and founds a dynasty, which,
after a rule of several generations, becomes enervated,
and gives way before some new nomadic incursion. The
first power against which Cyrus turned his arms, after
having cubdued the Modes, was the famous Lydian
kingdom, which then subsisted in Asia Minor under
the great Croesus. And here, therefore, we must give
some account of the ancient condition of Asia Minor
and its principalities.

Btates of Asia Minoiv-The Lydians.
The river Halys divided Asia Minor into two parts.
East of the Halys, or near its source, were various
nations of tl:>t Semitic stock — Cappadocians, Cilicians,
Pauiphylians, &c. — each organised apart, but all in-
cluded under the Assyrian, and latterly, as we have
seen, under the Median empire. West of the Halys,
the inhabitants were apparently of the Indo-Germauic
race, although separated by n\any removes from the
Indo-Gerraans of Persia. Overspreading this part of
Asia Minor, as well as Thrace and other parts of
south-eastern Europe, this great race ha<l been broken
up into fragments distinguished by characteristic difie-
rences. To enumerate these various nations, assigning
to each its exact geographical limits, is impossible: the
chief, however, were the Bithynians, a sort of Asiatic
Thraciiins on the southern coast of the Euxine; the
I.ydians and Carians in the south-west; and, interme-
diate between the two, geographically as well as in
respect of race and Iwnguage, the Mysians and Phry-
gians. These were the native states ; but along the
whole iEgean shore was diffused a largo Greek popu-
lation, emigrants, it is believed, from European Greece,
chiefly gathered into cities. These Greeks of Asia
Minor were cf three races -the jT".olic Greeks in the
north, and the louiiiii ai.d jtorian Greeks in the south;
and perhaps the earliest mam testations of Greek genius,
political or literary, were among these Greeks of Asia.
The intercourse of these Greeks with the native Lydians,
Phrygians, ?•';. gave rise to mixture of population m
well an to interchange of habits ; tb« native music
especially of the Lydians airl Piirygian* u^came incor-
porated witli that of the Greeks.

When Lydia, with iti c»,jital Sardia, first besan to
be a powerful itat«, is * "t known; it is remarkable,
however, that the Lyditns are not mentioned in Homer.
According to Herodotus, the Lydiani traced their his-
tory back through three dynasties, lit, The Atvadn,
from the earliest timet to B,c 1221; 2(2, The Heracleidse,
from D.c. 1221 to B.C. 716; and 3d, The Mermnadae.
Only the last dynasty is historic; the manner in which
it succeeded to that of the Hera<^leid«e forms the subject
of a curious Lydian legend.

The first king of the Mermnad dynasty waa Oygei
(b.c. 716-678), the second Ardys (B.r. 678-629), in
whose reign the Commcrians invaded Asia Minor, the
third Sadyattes (b.c. 62f)-617), the fourth Alyattes
(b. c. 617-560). Eiich of these Lydian kings was en-
gaged in wars boih with the Asiatic Greeks of the
coast and the nati ' a states of the interior. The growth
of the Lydiau power was impeded by the Commerian
invasion; but those savage nomades were at length ex-
pelled by Alyattes; and Croesus, the son of Alyattes
by an Ionian wife, having succeeded his father b.c. 560,
eo')n raised himsolf to tho position of a great potentate,
ruling over nearly the whole country westward of the
Halys, comprehending iEolian, Ionian, and Dorian
Greeks ; Phrygians ; Mysians, Paphlagoniaus, Bithy-
nians, Carians, Pamphylians, &c. At Sardis, the capi-
tal of this extensive dominion, was accumulated an
immense treasure, composed of the tribute which the
Lydian monarch derived from the subject states; hence
the proverb ' as rich as Crcesus.'

Separated from the Median kingdom only by the
river Halys, the Lydian dominion natuvally became an
object uf desire to Cyrus after he had acquired the
sovereignty of Media. Accordingly (n. c. 546), pro-
voked by an invasion of Crcesus, who had received from
the Delphic oracle the equivocal assurance, that ' if he
attacked the Persians he would subvert a mighty mo-
narchy,' Cyrus crossed the Halys, advanced into Lydia,
took Sardis, and made CroDsus prisoner. It was in-
tended by the conqueror that the Lydian king should
be burnt alive — it is even said that the fire was kindled
for the pui-pose ; Cyrus, however, spared his life, and
Croesus became his friend and confidential adviser. On
the subversion of the Lydian monarchy, its subjects,
the Greeks of Asia Minor, were obliged to submit to
tho conqueror, after having in vain solicited the aid of
their brethren the European Greeks. The Lacedsemo-
niaus indeed sent an embassy into Asia Minor ; and
one of their ambassadors had a conference with Cyrus
at Sardis, where he warned him ' not to lay hands on
any of the Groek towns, for the Lacedsemonians would
not permit it.' ' Who are the Lacedsemonians ? ' said
the astonished warrior. Having been inforii.od that
the Lacedieuionians were a Greek people, who had a
capital called Sparta, where there was a regular market,
' I have never yot,' said he, ' been afraid of this kind
of men, who have a set place in the middle of their city
where they meet to cheat one another and tell lies. If
I live, they shall have troubles of their own to talk
about.' To savo themselves from the Persians, tbe
Ioni'"> portion of tho Asiatic Greeks proposed a uni-
versiti emigration to the island of Sardinia — a striking
design, whicn, however, was not carried into execution.
All Asia Minor ultimately yielded to Cyrus.

The Persian Fmpire.

Having subdued Asia Minor, Cyrus next turned his
arms against the Assyrians of Babylon. His siege and
capture of Babylon (b.c. 53!)), when he effected his
entrance by diverting the cou.'se of the Euphrates,
fonu one of the most romantic incidents in history ; an
incident connected with Scriptural narrative through
its result — the emancipation of the Jew? from their
captivity. Along with Babylon, its dependencies,
Phoenicia and Palestine, came under the Persians.

Cyrus, one of the most remarkable men of the an-
cient world, having perished in au invasion of Scythia
(B.C. 529), was succeeded by his son Cambyses, who
annexed Egypt tP the Peraian empire (b.c. 525), hav-

tmm^m^^m.

CHAMBERS'S INITOIWIATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

inir defeated Piammanitui, the fon of the i»har»oh
AmMii. Foiled in hi« intention of penetrating Libya
and Ethiopia, Camby»e« wa« dethroned by a Marian

bysei during a fit of madncM. A con»i)iracy of aeven
great noble* hamg been formed againat the false
Smerdia, ho wae put to death. He was iucceoded by
one of the conspiring chiefs called Darius Hystaspes,
who reigned— oTer the immense Persian empire, ex-
tending from the Nile to the Indus, and beyond it—
from B.C. 621 to B.C. 485. 'The reign of Darius,' says
Mr Orote, * was one of organisation, different from that
of his predecessor — a difference which the Persians well
understood and noted, calling Cyrus " the father,"
Cambyses '* the master," and Darius " the retail trader
or huckster." lu the mouth of the Persians this last
epithet must be construed as no insignilicant compli-
ment, since it intimates that he was the first to intro-
duce some methodical order into the imperial adminis-
tration and finances. Under the two former kings
there was no definite amount of tribute levied upon
the subject provinces. But Darius probably felt it
expedient to relieve the provinces iVom the burden of
undefined exacrions. He distributed the whole empire
into twenty '';<'.. ivuents (called Satrapies), imposing
upon each a l v(>r| .mnual tax. This, however, did not
prevent each satrap (the Persian governor appointed
by the kinp' 'i. ^-'s own province from indefinite re-
quisitions, 'f I ': .atrap was a little king, who acted
neavl; an he {ii:"!Beu in the internal administration of
hie , ince, rt;bject only to the necessity of sending
up t ' ..;.'eT<rLl tribute to the king at Susa, the capital
of 1, '.sian empire; of keeping off foreign enemies;
and uf .urnis^ire an adequate military contingent for
tho foreign c • rises of the great king. To every
Mitrap was ;>■» „,ii:d a royol secretary or comptroller of
the revenue, who probably managed the imperial fi-
nances in the province, and to whom the court of Susa
might perhaps look as a watch upon the satrap him-
self. The satrap or the secretary apportioned the sum
payable by tho satrapy in the aggregate among the
various component distrirts, towns, or provinces, leav-
ing to the local authoriiies in each of these latter
the task of assessing it upon individual inhabitants.
From necessity, therefore, as well as from indolence of
temper and political incompetence, the Persians were
compelled to respect the authoritieu which they found
8t.anding both in town and country, and to leave in
their hands a large measure of genuine invluence.
Often even the petty kings who hiwl governed separate
districts during j^heir state of independence, pxior to
the Persian conquest, retained their title and ilignity
as tributaries to the court of Susn. The empire of the
great king was thus an aggregate of heterogeneous ele-
ments, connected together by no tic except that of
common fear and subjection — noway coherent nor self-
supporting, nor pervaded by any conimon system or
spirit of nationality.'

Continuation tlirougb Greek and Roman History.
How Darius, m conEC([uence of the assistance rendered
by the Athenittim to the Ionian Greeks of Asia Minor,
who ha<) rovf-lted against him (d.c. 503), sent a vast
I'ersian army into European Greece; how this army
was defeaied by the Athenian general, Miltiades, with
only ll,0(Mt men, in tho glorious battle of Marathon
(B.r. ■1.00); liow, ten years later, Xerxes, the son and
successor of Darius, undertook an expedition against
Greece with a hont of several millions, and was defeated
bv Theniistocles iti a noval buttio at Salamis (b.c. 4110),
which wos f 'howed by two conteniporaneous defeats of
his lieutenants at Pla b»h, and Mvcalt^ (n.c. 479); how
the Persians were thu finally driven back into Asia ;
how for ;v century a: d a- half rrlatioiis, sometimes
hoxtilo and sometime, friendly, woie maintained be-
tween the Greek stated and the Persian monarchs, the
d<*t.'enerate successors 7f Darius and Xerxes, under

whom the empire had began to crumble; bow at length,
in the reign of Darius Codomannus (b.c. 334), Alex-
ander the Great retaliated on the Persians the wrongs
the^ had done the Greeks by invading and destroying
their decrepit empire, and organising all tho countries
between the Adrl;itic and the Indus under, not a
Semitic, as in the case of the Assyrian empire, nor an
Indo-Oermanic, as in the case ot the Persic empire,
but a Greek or Pelasgio system ; how, on Alexander's
death (b.c. 323), this vast agglomeration of the human
species fell asunder into three Ortek monarchies —
the Macedonian monarchy, including the states of
European Greece ; the Egyptian monarchy . of the
Ptolemies including, besides Eg^pt, Pha-nicia, Pales-
tine, and Arabia ; and the Syrian monarchy of the
Seleacidse, comprehending, although with a weak
grasp, Asia Minor (or at least parts of it which had be-
longed to the Lydian and Assyrian empires), Syria,
Assyria, and Babylonia; with the loss, however, of tlie
countries between the Tigris and the Indus, whore a
germ of independence arose (d.c. 236) in a native
nomad dynasty, which ultimately united all the tribes
of iron iu one empire, called Ihe Parthian Empiit ; and
how these three Iragments dragged on a separate ex-
istence, full of wars and revolts : all this belongs to
Grecian history — that is, to the history of the Hellenic
portion of the Pelasgians, whose career is fully detailed
in the following number.

How, about two centuries ar.i! p.-half before Christ,
another, but more mixed j-tiitu.!! of this Velasgic
family, which hod arisen 'v\ Italy, and in the course of
several centuries rendered itself co-extensive with that
peninsula — began to assume consequence \v. the wider
area of the Mediterranean world: how it fir^ii grappled
with the power of the Carthaginians (b. c. 264 -JOl), who
for several centuries had been pursuin^r the career of
world-merchants, formerly purfioed by their fathers the
Phoenicians ; how it then aibailed and subdued the
crumbling Macedonian monarehy, itx'orporating all
Greece with it3<^lf (b. c. 134); how, retrograding, so to
speak, into Asia, it gradually ate up tho Syrian and
Egyptian monarchies, till it came into collision with the
Parthian empire at the Euphrates (b. c. 134 — b. c. 60);
how, advancing in^o the new regions of northern and
western Europe, it compelled the yet uncultured races
there — the Celts or Gauls, the Iberians, &c. — to enter the
pale of civilisation (b. c. 80-60) ; how thus, from the
Atlantic to the Euphrates, was founded a new empire,
called • The Roman,' retaining, with vast additions, all
that portion of humanity which the fonner em]: ires had
embraced, with the exception of what had lapsed bock
to theParthians; how this empire subsisted for several
centuries, it. great mats of matured humanity girt by
comparative barbarisiu — that is, surrounded on tlie
cast by the Pnrthians, on 'ihe south by the Ethiopiaii.<),
on the no"th by tho Germans and Scythians, and on
the west by the roar of tte Atlantic; and how at last
(a. n. 400-475) this great rxass, having lost its vitality,
fell iisundcr before the inuption of the barbaric ele-
ment — that is, the Germans, the Scythians, and the
Arabs — giving rise t(j the infant condition of the
modem world : all this belongs to Roman history,
which forms the subject of a separate treatise.

With one gener ' remark we shall conclude; namely,
that the progress oi history — that is, of the Caucasian
development — has evidently been, upon the whole, from
the east westward. First, as we have seen, the Assyrian
or Semitic fermentation alfected western Asia as far as
the Mediterranean ; then the Persian movement extended
the historic stage to the y^gean ; after that the Mace-
donian conquest extended it to the Adriatic ; and
finally, the Romans extended it to the Atlantic. For
fifteen centuries humanity kept dashing itself against
this barrier; till ut length, like a groat missionary sent
iu "carch, the spirit of Columbus shot acrose the Atlantic.
And now, in the fonn of a dominant Anglic race,
though ^ith large intermixture, Caucasian vitality is
working in its newest method, with Ethiopian help, oil
the broad and fertile fiei'l of America,

HISTOKY OF GREECE.

Greece is a peninsula situated on tho northern shore
of the Mediterranean, between the Ionian and ^Egcai.
Seas. As a country, it is br i tifui ly diTersified by hills
and yalloj 3, like Wales oi le Highlands of Scotland.
Some of tho hills are bo high as to be constantly covered
with snow ; while the low districts enjoy a mild cli-
mate, and are of extreme fertility — several of them,
as Tempe and Arcadia, being spoken of with rapture by
the poets of ancient times. As the country is much
divided by hills and indentations of the sea, it was
partitioned, from an early period, into a number of
petty states, which were under separate governments,
and often at war with each other. The southern part
of the peninsula, anciently styled the Peloponnesus,
and now the Morea, was divided into Laconia (con-
taining Sparta), Argolis, Achaia, Arcadia, Elis, and
Messcnia, each of which was only about tho size of a
moderate English county. Middle Greece (now Liva-
dia), to the north of the Peloponnesus, and connected
with it by the Isthmus of Corinth, on which lay the city
of that name, contained Attica (in \^ 'ich was the city
of Athens), Meguris, Boectia (in which was the city of
Thebes), Phocis, Locris, Doris, JFAoVui, and Acarnania.
Northern Greece contai;ied Thessaly (now the district of
Jonuina), Epirus (now Albania), and Macedonia (now
Filiba Vilajeti), the last of which did not, however,
belong to (ireeoe till a comparatively late period.

To the east of (ireece proper lay the numerous
islands of the -/Figcan Sc, otherwise denominated the
Archipelago; with which may be included certain islands
lying in the Mediterranean Sea in the same direction,
tho principal of which were tlhodes, Cyprus, and tlie
Cychides. To tho south lay Cythera (now Cerigo) and i
Crete (now Candia). To iue west, in tho Ionian Sea,
lay Corcyra (Corfu), CVphalonia, Ithaca, and others, |
now constituting the distinct confederacy of the Ionian \
Islands, under protection of Great Britain.

Besides Laving possession of these various districts
on tho mainland, and islands on both sides of the
peninsula, the Greeks in the course of time acquirtd
colonies in Sicily and Soutliern Italy, as well as on the
coast of Asia Minor, adja-.'eiit to tlic islands in the
JEge&n Sea. The principal of these Asiatic possessions
was Ionia, a beautiful and fertile country, the cajtital
of which Wivs Ivpheius,

No. 66,

In consequence of Greece having been divided into
a number of petty states, each of which maintained its
own political independence, the history of the country
necessarily assumes the character of a number of sepa-
rate narratives. The Greeks, in the different states,
did_ not consider themselves as constituting a single
nation or people, although they were in some measure
united by similarity of origin, language, religion, and
manners. It was not, indeed, till a comparatively late
period that they had any name for the entire country ;
the name tnen assumed was Hellas. The term Grecia
(Greece) was conferred by tho Romans, and has since
been generally employed.

EARLY HISTORY AND UYTHOLOaV.

The history of the Grecian states commences about
1800 years before Christ, when the Egyptians on the
opposite side of the Mediterranean were in a high state
of civilisation ; but the portion of history which pre-
cedes 084 n.c. is understood to be fubulou8,-and entitled
to little credit. According to the Greek poets, the
original inhabitants of the country, denominated Pelas-
gians, were a race of savages, who lived in caves, and
clothed themselves with the skins of wild beasts.
Uranus, an Egyptian prince, landed in the couutry,
and became the father of a family oi' giants, named
Titans, who rebelled ngainst, and dethroned him. His
Sim Saturn, who reigned in his stead, in order to pre-
vent the liko misfiirtune from befalling himself, ordered
all his own children to l)e put to death as soon as they
were bom. But one named Jupiter was concealed by
the mother, and reared in the island of Crete, from
which in time he returned, and deposed his father.
The Titans, jealous of this new prince, rebelled against
him, but were vanquished and expelled for ever from
the country.

Jupiter divided hie .ominions with his brothers Nep-
tune and Pluto. The countries which he reserved to
himself he governed with great wisdom, holding his
court on Mount Olympus, a hill in Thessaly, 1)000 feet
in height, and the loftiest in Greece. Any truth which
there might be in the story of the Titans and their
princes was completely disguised by the poets, and by
the j)opular iraagiuation. Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune,
and I'luto, were looked back to, not as murculs, Ijut as
deities ; and the top of Mount Olympus was supposed
to be the heavenly residence of thj gods, by whom the
affairs of nini-tals were governed. And Ibr ages after
the dawn of philosophy, these deified sons ot ^^'uru,
and numberless others connocred with them, were the
objects of the national worship, not only among ti'.o
Greets, but also among tho Koiu«iis.

At an uncertain but very early date an Asiatic
people named the Hellenes immigrated intu Greece,
in some coses expelling the Pnlatigl, and in others
intermingling with them, so that in process of time all
the inhabitants of (.ireece came to be called Hellenes.
They were, however, divided into several tribes, the
principal of which were tho Doriana, JEolians, and
I >nian8, each of whom spoke a dialect diilbring iu
801 ic respectii from those made use of by the others.
Thfc^» dialects were named the Doric, ^olic, and Ionic,
in t' ference to the tribes which used them ; and a
fourti , which was aiterwards formed fi-om the Ionic,
was named the Attic, from its boiug spoken by the
inhabitants of Attica.

In -he yeor 1056 B.C., Inachus, a Phoenician adven-
turer, is said to have arrived iu Greece at the hsad of
a small baud of his countrymen. PhtEiiicia, a (letty
state on tho coast of the Mediterranean, in Asia Minor,
wos at this time one of a '".■w countries, includirjg Egypt
and Assyria, iu which some degree of civilisation ^ro-

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

railed, while all the reit of the peope of the earth
remained in their origiualbarUrfim, like the Pela*-
giani before the luppoeed arrival of nrai.ui. Naviga-
tion for the purpose* of coniuierce, and the art ot writ-
ing, are laid to have originated with the Phconicians.
On their arrival in Oreece, Inachu» and his friends
founded the city of Argos, at the head of what is now
called the Gulf of Napoli, in the IVloponnesui.

Three hundred jeare after thie event (1666 B.C.), a
colony, led hy an Egyptian named Cecrops, arrived in
Attica,* and founded the celebrated city of Athene, for-
tifying a hig>< rock which rose precipito'uly above the
■ite afterward* occupied by the town.

Egypt is situated in the north-eastern part of Africa.
It is bounded on the north by the Mediterranean Sea,
and is watered by the great river Nile, the periodical
overflowinge of which, by supplying the moisture neces-
sary for vegetation, render the soil very fertile. From
this country, which had at a very early period made
considerable advaiu'es in some of the arts and sciences
(see Ancirnt History), Cecrops imported much valu-
able knowledge to the rude inhabitants of Attica, whom
he had persuaded or obliged to acknowledge him as
their chief or king. Ho placed his rocky i. 'ness under
the protection of an Egyptian goddess, from whose
Greek name, Athena (afterwards changed by the Latins
into Minerva), the city which subsequently lose around
the eminence was called Athene.

About the year 14!)3 b. c, Cadmus, a Phoi^nician,
founded the citv of Thebes in Havitia ; and among
othur useful things which he communicated to the
Greeks, he is said to have taught them alphabetical
writing, although it is certain that that art did not
oon\e into common uso in Greece until several centuries
after this period.

Th- city of Corinth, situated on the narrow isthmus
which .onnects the Peloponnesus with the mainland of
Greece, was founded in the year 1520 d. c, and from its
very advantngeous position on the arm of tho sea to
which it anciently gave a name, but which is now
known as the Gulf of Lepanto, it very soon became a
place of considerable commercial importance. Sparta
01 L.icedromun, tho celebrated capital of Laconia in the
PeloponnesuH, is said to have been founded about 1520
B. c. by Leiez, an Rgyptian.

In the year 1485 B.C., an Egyptian named Danttus,
a>»;ompan>ed by a party of his countrymen, arrived at
Argos, tho inhabitants of which must have lieen at
that period in an exceedingly rude state, since it is
said that he excited their gratitude so much by teach-
in:; them to dig wells, when tho streams from which
thev werp supplied with water were dried up with the
heut, that tiiey elected him as their king.

Fully nior« than a century after this period (about
1.150 B.c.'r, I'elops, the son of a king oi" Phrygia, a
country in Asia Minor, settled in that part of Greece'
v.h'ch was afterwards called from him Peloponnesus,
or the islam! of Pelops, where he married the ilaughter
of one if thn native princes, whom he afterwards suc-
ceei'ed on. the throne. In the course of his long reign,
he founi. mei'iis to strengthen and greatly extend hig
inftuenoe in (ircet'c, liy forming raatriinonial alliances
between inrious branches of his own house and the other
niyal families of the Peloponnesus. Agamemnon, king
of MyceniB, in .\rgolis, who wan, according to the poet
Homer, the commandcr-in-chiel" of the (frccks at the
■isgu of Troy, and MenelSus, king of Sparta, on uc-
oouiit of whose wrongs that wa; was uodertaken, were
desceiidofl from this Phrygian adventurer.

Hercules, a Theban prince, was another of the de-
acendaiits of Pelops. The numerous and •extraordinary
fiwts of strength and valour of Hercules excited the
admiration of his contemporaries, and being afterwards
es«ggerated and «ml)elliahed by the poets, caused him
at knigth to be regarded as a person endowed with supcr-
nMuntl powers, and even to be v^orshipped as a god.

According to the poets, Hff ^iles was the son of the
god Jupiter, and of Alcmena, daughter of Eiectryon^,
king of MyceU(». tiefore his birth, Lis mother luarned
83

Ampbitiyon, kins of Thebei, ^■^ whom tho infant Her-
cules was adopted as his sr<'. While yet a child in the
crndle, he is fabled to Lav crushed to death two inakei
which the goddess Juno had sent to destroy him. Af\'er
he grew up, he performed many heroic and extraordi-
nary actions, commonly called his * laboura.' Among
these was his killing a dreadful lion, by clasping hi*
arms round its neck, and so choking it.

Another of tho fabled labours of Hercules was his
destroying the Hydra of Lerna. This was a monstrous
seven-headed serpent, which haunted the small lake of
Lerna, now Molini, in Argolis, and flUed with terror
the inhabitants of the wholo of tUat part of the coun-
try. Hercules dauiiMessljr attacked it, and struck off
several of its heads with his club. But these wonderful
heads rvere no sooner beaten oif than they n«w on again,
so that it seemed an inipoasibility to kill a monster
whose injurlM were so quickly repaiied. At last, one
of the companions of Heroulei havinc, at the hero's
request, seared with a hot iron the necks of the hydra
as fast as each decapitation wai accomplished, it was
discovered that the heads did not spring again, and
Hercules was thus enabled to complete the dettructioa
of this terrible reptile.

Another achievement of this hero, to which allusion
is often made by modem writers, was tho cleaiisins of
the stables of A igtfus, king of Elis, in ivhicli three
hundred cattle had been kept for thirty vearii, without
any attempt having been made during all that time to
remove the accumulating filth. This much-required
purification tbe hero •c'iomplished by tumiiig into the
stables a river which flo>''ea in the vicinity. Hercules
also undertook an expedii ion for the purpose of carry-
ing off the cattle of tJery in, king of Oades, now Cadiz,
in Spain. Geryon is '.epresented as having been a
monster with three b^ads, and a proportionate supply
of arms and legs, ead to have ruled over the greater
part of Spain with the utmost cruelty. He was killed
by Hercules, who brought away his valuable flocks in
triumph. In this expedition he is said to have formed
the Strait of Gibraltar, in order to open a communica-
tion between the Mediterranean and Atlantic, by rend-
ing asunder Spain and Africa, which had until then
been united. Two mountains, Calpe and Abyla (one
on each side of the Strait), raised by him in the execu-
tion of this task, were called the Pillars of Hercules,
and the appellation is not unfrequently made use of
by authors even at the present day.

After many adventures in toreign countries, he re-
turned to the Peloponnesus, where he took to wife li
laJy named Dejanirii. For a while they lived happily
together; but at last, believing that Hercules had Ite-
come less attached to her than formerly, hig consort
presented him with a tunic steeped in a mixture, which
she expected to operate as a charm in regaining for her
his affections, but which was, in reality, a deadly poison,
artfully placed in her hands by an enemy. As soon as
Hercules had put on this fatal garment, he was attacked
with the most excruciating pain, .viid being anxious to
put a period as speedily as possible to his agor'as, he
stretched himself upon a funeral pile, and causing a
friend to set it on fire, was burned to ashes. His spirit
is said to have ascended to heaven i.i a chariot drawn
by four horses, which Jupiter, the king of the gods,
transmitted to earth for the purpose, and Juno, the
celestial queen, ;,'avo him her daughter Hebe as his
wife. Dcjanira, on learning the uui'ortunato result of
her attempt to recover her husband's lore, put an end
to her own life in despair.

Such are the wild fictions which have been handed
down respecting Hercules, who was in reality nothing
more than a (ireek prince of great valour and bodily
strength. Having been expelled from Mycenie by a
rival claimant of the throne of that state, ue appears
to have spent the greater part of his life in wandering
over (ireece at the head of a band of military followers,
sometimes attacking and destroying the robber chiefs
and petty tyrants who at that rude and unsettled pe-
riod aboun'' i iu all parts of the country, and on other

HISTOBY OF GREECE.

oeeu!oivi engaipiig in predatory expeditioni himMlf.
Ili> obaraoter be«n no alight rewrobl&noe to that of
the military chiefr.ains wlio tlouriahed in our own coun-
tr/ a few hundred yeara ago, and who, with (omewhat
confuted notion! of right and wrong, were equally ready
1 1 auboour the weak ngaiuat a powerful oppreaaor, and
to attack and plunder an enemy, or ereu, in many
cawa, an unoifending neighbour, whoae numerous flocki
offered a tsropting booty.

During the lifetime of llerculei (12C3 b.i\), Joaon,
a prinro of Theualy, made a voyage to Colchia, a
country on the o&atern aide of the Euxine or Black
Sea. Hia enterpriae wae afterwards greatly celebrated
under the name of the Argonautia Expedition, from
Arso, the reaael in which ho aailed. Thia ihip ia gene-
rally referred to by the ancicnta as the fint thai ever
▼ensured on a long voyage. It ia uncertain what waa
the real object of tne Argouautio expedition, ivlthough
It aeems probable that, a« Colchia was rich iu uiinea
of gold and ailror, Jaaon and hii companions, among
whom '^ere Herculea and aereral other penona of dia-
tinction, >Tere actuated by a deaire to roD the country
of aomo of ita valuable inetala. The poets, however,
tell us a different atory. Phryxus and Hell^, the aou
and dia^uter of Athamus, king of Thebea, being cora-
pelleU, according to the poetical account, to quit their
native co'-ntry to avoid the cruelt|V of their stepmother,
mounted o" tlie back of a winged ram with a fleece of
gold, and were carried by this wonderful animal through
the air towards Colchia, where an uncle of theirs, named
JEt^s, was ^ing. Unlortunately, as thev were passing
over the strait now called the Dardanelles, which con-
nects the iGgean Sea with the Propontis, or Sea of
Marmora, Helle became giddy, and falling into the
water, was drowned. From her, says the legend, the
strait was named the Hellespont, or Sea of Helle.

When Phryxud arrived in Colchis, he sacrificed his
winged ram to Jupiter, in acknowledgment of divine
protection, and deposited its golden fleece in the same
deity's temple. He then married the daughter of ^tes,
but was afterwards murdered bv that kiii^' who wished
to obtain possession of the golden fleect. To avenge
Phry xus's death, Jason, who was his relation, under-
took the expedition to Colchis, where, after performing
several marvellous exploits, he not only obtained the
golden fleece, but persuaded Meilea, another daughter
of King ^tes, to become his wife, and to accompany
him back to Greece.

One of the persons associated with Jason in the
Argonautic expedition was Theseus, a hero almost as
celebrated as Hercules himself. His father, JEgiua,
was king of Athens, and his mother, ^.thra, waa the
daughter of Pittheus, king of Troezen, in Argolis. An
insurrevttion which broke out in Attica obliged ^geus
to leave j^thra at her father's court, before Theseus
was born, and to repair in haste to Athens. Before his
departure, he conducted his wife to a lonely spot in
the vicinity of Troezen, where there stood a large rock
with a cavity in the centre. In this hollow he placed
a pair of sandals and a hunting-knife, and after cover-
ing thorn over with a piece of marble of great weight,
he addn'ssed ^Ethra in the following words : — * If our
child s'jall prove a boy, let his removal of this stone
be OIK. day the proof of hia strength; when he can do
this, inform him of his parentage, and send him with
the toirens it covers to me in Atiiens.'

When Tlieseus had arrived at iianhood, his mother,
remembering vL - words of AijeuB, took Lira to the rock
where the tokens were deposited, and desired him to
try to lift off the mass of marble which his father had
placed aboT- them. Being a youth of uncommon
strength, he acubmplished this with ease, upon which
JEthra coriimunicated to him the rank of his father,
and giving him the sandals and the hunting-knife,
charged Lim to bear them to iFigeus at Athens.

Troezen, where the young prince of Athens was nur-
tured, lay on the western shore of the gulf which sepn
rates the Peloponnesus from Attica. As the journey
to Athens by laud waa both circuitous and dangerous,

Th^iMus was advised to oroM to Attioa by watnr. But
his .'ofty spirit coiild not brook the idea of shrinking
from danger, and he resolved to proceed n his desti-
nat.on overland. Hercules had before Uiin time de>
atrofcd many of the robber chiefs who infested Cireece,
but .-xotwithttanding all his exertions, there were num-
bers Bi'li remaining; and as Theseus proceeded along
the coakts of the Saronic gulf, he encountered and dii-
comflted not a few of these marauders. Among others,
he is said Ic have destroyed a cruel chieftain named
Procrustes, who had a bed on which he stretched his
captives, ihortRnin^ or lengthening their bodies to cor-
respond with the «ixe of the bed, by either barbarously
cutting off a portion of their limbs, or racking them
out, as the case mi^ht be. After many toils and perils,
Theseus arrived safe in Athens; and iEgeus, recog-
nising him by the tokens ho brought, presented him to
the people as the heir to the throne.

The fame of his warlike exploits rendered Thoseua m
favourite with tiio Athenians; and soon after his arrival
among them, ho took a step which greatly added to hia
popularity. In consequence of their want of success in
a war with Minos, a celebrated king of Crete, the
Athenians had been obliged to scud to that sovereign
an annual tribute f seven young men and as many
young girls, Thcst vict "13, it is probable, were, on
their arrival in Crete, coziiemued to slavery; but the
popular belief of those superstitious times was, that
they were thrown into a labyrinth constructed by an
ingenious person named Daedalus, where they wer«
devoured alive by a monster called a Minotaur {tauru$,
a bull), one-halt of whose body resembled a man, and
the other a bull.

When the time came round for selecting by lot the
annual victims, Theseus, observing the horror of those
on whom the lot fell, and the deep sympathy which
was universally felt for their unhappy fate, resolved
to make a bold eftort to obtain the abrogation of the
cruel tribute. For that puroose he voluntarily enrolled
himself as one of the victims, and was sent to Crete
along with the othorii. On his arrival there, he wag
well received by Minos, who had already heard of his
heroic deeds, and who admired the warmth of that
patriotism which had led the Athenian prince thus to
offer himself up a voluntary sacrifice for the benefit of
his country.

On further acquaintance, Minos conceived so high
an opinion of Theseus, that he gave him his daughtev
Ariadne iu marriage, and relinquished his claim to the
humiliating tribute which he had hitherto exacted
from the Athenians. Theseus then returned to Athens,
where he was received with overy demonstration of
public respect. Annual siiorifices and festivals wera
instituted iu. commemomtiuu' of his patriotic con-
duct, and the vessel iu which he had made his voyage
to Crete was carefully preserved for many centuries,
being from time to time repaired, until at last it be-
came a question, which was gravely discussed by the
learned, whether it was or was not to be still regarded
as the vessel of Theseus, after ita several parts had
been so frequently renewed.

Theseus succeeded his father on the Athenian throne
(1234 B.C.), and by his wise regulations greatly conso-
lidated the strength and increased the prosperity of his
kingdom. Cccrops, the founder of Athens, had divided
Attica into twelve districts, each of which possessed its
own magistriicy and judicial tribunals, Atthc country
advanced in wealth and population, these districts be-
came less closely connected with each other, and at the
period of the accession of Theseus, they cou.ld hardly
be regarded in any other light than a.) so many little
independent communities, whose perpetual disputes
kerii. ihe whole district in broils and confusion. But
Tl esrus had influence enough with all parties to obtain
theix consent to the abolition of the separate jurisdio-
tirns, and to th^ fixing of all civil and judicial authn.
iity in the capital. He at the same time voluntarily-
resigned into their hands a portion of his own power.
Having divided the people into three classes — the nobles,

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR TITB PEOPLE.

tbo trtlfani, and the cultiTaton of the ioU-he Intrurted
tho ftrit of thoM wit: ths »dminLitr»tJon of publw
affain, and the diipeii.«tiun of juitioe, whUe ho con-
fened upon every freeman ov citizen, irlthout diitino-
tion of olaaa, a vote in the leffiiiative aiMmblief. Tho
ooniiaand of the a. uv. and the prewleucjr of the gtate,
he retaine<l in hi» own nenon.

To etrengthen thu pol'tical union of the vanoui di*-
(rioti of hi* kingdom hy tho tifl of a common religion,
he inititiited a wlemn foatival, to be colebratod annu-
ally at Athene by all the inhabitant h of tica, in
honour of Minerra, the tutelary deity ol tho > Thin
foetival he denominated I'annthenam, or the I •.mi of
all the Athenian!, tho name by which the wliolu of tlio
people of Attica were thenceforth called.

The wile and litjeral policy of Theieus caused Attica
to adrance considerably bevoud the other Btatei of
Greece in prosperity and civilisation; and tho ancient
historian, Thucprdidee, informs us that the Atheuiiuis
were the first ot the Greeks who laid aside the military
dress and arras, which till now had been constantly
worn. The example of Athens was not lost on the other
Grecian nomiuunities, all of which gradually adopted,
to a greater or less extent, those political institutions
which had conferred so uanv advantages upon Attica.
Notwitbstuiulins the judicious and exemplary con-
duct of Theseus ui the early part of his reign, )iu
appears to have afterwards allowed liis restless and
adveuturoui disposition to hurry hiui into many cxtra-
ragauccs, and even ciitnes, by which he forfeited the
respect of his people, and brought disgrace and suIIlt-
ing on his latter years. If wo may believe ths tradi-
tionarv accounts, be accompanied Hercules in some of
his celebrated expeditions, and assisted by I'irithoUs,
a king of Thesbaly, engaged in many martial and pre-
datory adventures, conforuiably rather with the very
inipcnect morality and rude manners of the age, than
'.rith his own previous character. There reigned in
T/acedasmou at this jicriod a king named Tyndarus,
who had a beautiful daughter called Helen, and ac-
cording to the ancient historians, Thoseus and his friend
Pirithous formed the design of stealing anay this young
lady, and a princess of Epirus nun ed Proserpine.
They succeeded in carrying off Helen , Smi in their
attempt to obtain Proserpine, they fc'.i ni^' :.ie hands
of her father, by whom I'irithoUs wa» yui .» o-' tth, and
Theseus thrown into prison. Mea^i^KlAt, tiujtor and
Pollux, the twin-brothers of H,!..; , .;>,i> n re after-
wards deified, and whose namet iiiitc U;'.'n bestowed
upon one of the t'lgua of the Zodiac ((')^.llil i), rescued
their siste: from iw men to whom Theseuu had given
her in '^btTge, and ravaged Attica in revenge for the
injury thi;' 'lad received from its king.

Theseus was afterwarus released from imprisonment
by the assistance of Hercules, and returned home; but
the Athenians had become so offended with his conduct,
and were so angry at his having exposed them to ill-
treatment from the Lacedesmouiaus by his wicked
attempt upon Helen, that they refused to receive him
again as their sovereign. He therefore 'vithdrew into
exile, and soon after died in the island of Scyros. The
Athenian people, however, never forgot the benefits he
had in his wiser days conferred upon the state; and
many centuries after biH death, his bones, or some
which were supposed to be his, were conveyed to
Athens with great pomp, and a splendid temple was
erected above theiu to his memory.

The Lacedaemonian princess who was stolen away by
Theseus afterwards became the occasion of a celebrated
war. The fame of her great beauty having spread far
and wide, many of the princes of Greece asked her from
her father Tyndarus in marriage; but he, being fearful
of incurring the enmity of the re'ecttd suitois, declined
showing a preference for any of them. Assembling them
all, iio bound them by an oath to acquiesce in the solcc-
tiou which Helen herself should make, and to protect
her against any attempts which might afterwards be
Diatle to can'y her off from the husband of her choice.
Jielcn gave the preference to Menelausi a grandflou of
U4

Pelop*. and this successful suitor, n nkc ^'ftth of Tyn-
darus, was raised to the Spartau t* ne.

At this period, in the north-western part of Asia
Minor, ou the ' lorci of the Hellespont and the ^llgenn
8uas, there existeU a kingdom, the ca'iital of which waii
a largo and woll'fortilieu citv named Troy, or Ilium.
Pria::i, the king of Troy, had a sun whose name was
Paris; and this young chief, in the course of a visit to
(Irrecc, remded for a time in Sparta at the court of
Muiielaus, who gave the Asiatic stranger a very friendly
reception, (Jharmed with HuIku's beauty, Paris em-
ployed the opportunity afforded by a t<Si. (j'jrary absence
of her huuliiMid to gain hor affvctionn, i%ni jK.muade Ler
to elope "itii him td T'luy. It wac 'iti(/, according to
the old poets, to his personal attrouiions, great as ihey
were, that Paris owed his succeai ou tLis occasion, but
to the aid of the goddess of Love, whose favour ho bad
won by assigning to her the palm of iKiuuty, ou an
occasion when it was contcf>ted between her and two
other female deities.

When Mcnelaua returned homo, he was naturally
wroth at finding his hospitality so ill reqi^ited; and
after having in vain endeavoured, both by renioustrunces
and threats, to induce the Trojans to send hiia back
his queen, he applied to the princes who had fonuerly
been Helen's lovers, and called upoi\ the<n to aid him,
according to their oaths, in recoverin,!; her from hor
seducer. They obeyed the summons; and all Greece
being indignant at tho iiiNult offered to Menclaus, a
£'eneral luusler of tha forces of the various states took
])lace at Aulid, a seaport town of Itueotia, preparatory
to their crossing the ^geau to tho Trojan shore. This
is supposed to have happened in tho year 11U4 b.c.

Of the chiefs assembled en this occasion, the most
celebrated were Agamemnon, king of Mycenie; Menc-
lau», king of Sparta; Ulysses, king of Ithaca; Nestor,
king of Pylos; Aclulles, son of the king of Thessaly;
Ajax, of Sulamiti; Oiomodca, of i£tolia; and Idonie-
neus, of Crete. A<;amcmnou, the brother of the injured
Menelaus, was elected com:uandor-iu-chief of the cou-
I'ederated Greeks. According to some ancient authors,
this general wiw barbarous enough tu sacrifice his
daughter Iphigcnia, to i iduce the gods to send a
favouring gale to thoGr.cian ileetwhea it was detained
by contrary winds in the port of Aulis; but as the
earliest writers respecting the Trojan war make no
mention of this unnatural act, it is to be hoped that it
never was performed.

The Grecian annameut consisted of alout 1200 ves-
sels, with fi-oiu SO to 1'2U men in each, and the army
which warred against Troy is supposed to have amounted
altogether to about 100,000 men. The Trojans, although
reinforced by auxiliary bands from Assyria, Thrace,
and A'jia Minor, were unable to withstand the Greeks
in the open country, and they therefore soon retired
within the walls of their city.

In those early times men were unskilled in the art
of reducing fortified jilaces, and the Greeks knew of no
speedier way of taking Troy than blockading it till
the in! '/i'o' 'tilts should be compelled by famine to sur-
render, '..at here a new difficulty arose. No ariange-
ments had been made for supplying the ii-.vaders with
provisions during u lengthened siege; and after they
had plundered and laid waste the surrounding; country,
they began to bo in as great danger of starvation tia
the besieged. The supplies which arrived from Greece
were scanty and irregular, and it became neceBsairy ,
to detach a part of the beleaguering forces to cultivate
the plains of the Chersouesus of Thr'ico, in order to
raise crone for the support of themselves and their
brethren in anus.

The (ircciaii army being thus weakened, the Trojans
were encouraged to make l're(|uent sallies, in which they
were led generally by the valiant Hector, Priam's eldcKt
and noblest son. Many skirmishes took place, and
uiuumerable deeds of individual heroiem were per-
form* d, all of which led to no important result, for tlio
op).oiiug armies were so equally matched, that ueithqr

HISTORY or OREEOf .

Teg-

till
I 8ur-

eould oltaiit any decitlre Mbjuitage over t)i« other.
At length, after a ikege of no leia than ton yean,
in the coiine of which tome of the ntoit (liitinculiketl
Ifla<lert on both iiidfli were (lain, Tmy w.m taken, Iti
inhabitantt ilaughtereiJ, and iti edit\cci burnt and
razed to the ground.

According to tho pool*, it wni by » •tratagcm that
tliis fiMuout city w^s at ln«t >>vurcuuio. They tell ui
that tbo Oreeki coniitruct«d u, v.oodeu horae of prod!,
gioui (!xe, in the body of which tJiey ooncealed u number
of armed men, and then retired towanls the ti A-ihoro,
to induce the enemy to believe tliat the besieger* Uud
siven up the «nter]>riie, and were about to return home.
Pi-'oeiTed by thii manocuTre, the Trojuni brought the
gigantic horro into the city, and the men who had been
concealed within it, stiraling out in the night-time,
unbarred the gates, ami admitted the Grecian army
within the walla. The aicge of Trov forme the subject
of Ifdmor'a sublirao poem, the 'Iliad,' in which th», real
events of the war are intermingled with many fictitious
and supematuriU inc.denti.

Theflreok princes diacovered that their triumpli over
Troy waa dearly paid for by their subsequent suiirri'"-
and the disorganisation of their kingdom* at '
Ulyascs, if we may bt- iievo the poets, spent ten yt ,.
wandering over te-M and lands before arriving in L
island f Ithaca. ' Ithoi-a of the leaders died or wei
shipwrecked on thvi" way honie, and several of thoHt
who succeeded in rcnching their own dominions, found
their thrones occupied by usurpcra, and were compelled
to return to their voasela, and seek in distant lands a
plact! of rest and security for their declining; yecrs.
But the fate of Agamemnon, tiie renowned gcEiorui of
the Greeka, was the most dr[>'urable of all. On his re-
turn to Argos, he waa assasninated by his wife Clytem-
nealra, who had formed an attachment during; his
absence to another penon. Agamemnon's son, (Jrcstcs,
was driven into exile, but afterwards i furned to Argos,
and putting his mother und her occui plicea to denth,
establisbtxi hiiuself upon the tlirone.

About eighty years sfter the termination of the
Trojun war, an extensive revolution took place in the
alfairs of Greece, in consequence of the subjugation of
nearly tho whol^ Peloponnesus by the descendnnts of
llt-rculuD. It has already been mentioned tbut that

would appear, gave AfTen ee to the new mien of th*
I'eloiMinnesiaii states, and war was commenced between
the Dorlana and the Athenian:i. In the yfar 1070 u.c.,
Attic^ w«s invaded by a numerous unny of the Pelu-
poiinesians, and Athens Itself seemed menaced with
destruction. This emergency produced a disjday of
nacriotic devotion on the part ot Codrus, the Athenian
king, which has rarely been paralleled in the annals
of mankind, and de*erTee to be held in everlasting
remei' lirance : —

At 'utphl in I'hocin there wni a temple of Apollo,
to the prieils of whiili the (IrookH were wont to apply
for information regardiiiK future event*, in the *ame
manner r.« the people ol (comparatively recent timei
were accustomed to rons'ilt astrologers, noothsayen,
and other artful impostcrH on similai' questiona. Now
Codrua had learned that the Peloponnesiu.ia had re-
coivei' at Delphi a prophetical reaponse, to the effect
tliat they should not be irictorioua ir. the war, if they
did not kill the Athenian king. Determined to save
i)ia country at the expenio of his own life, Codrus dia-
t' d himself in a peasant's dreaj, and enterine the
■nnesian camn, provoked a o jarrel with a soldier,
<M he was killed.

t long until the dead body was recognised

tlie Athenian king, and the Peloponne-

uering tho condition on which the oracle

ed them success, were afraid to continue

,1 .nil any longer, and hastily retreated into tlieir

own territories. Tho Athenians were filled with admi*

ration when they heard of the noble conduct of their

monarch, and in the height of their gratitude, they

declared that none but Jupiter was worthy of being

their king aftc such a prince as Codnis.

It is Bupp. uc'd that they were partly induced to make
this declaration by findin;^ the sons of Codrus evince an
inclination to involve the country in a civil war regard-
ing the Bucccasion to the throne. The Athenians tltere-
fore abolished royally altogether, and appointed Mcdon,
Codrus's eldi'Hl Hon, under tho title of Archon, as chief
magistrate of ti>e republic for life; the office to be here-
ditary in hia family as long as its duties should be per-
formed to the satisfaction ')f the assembly of the people.
And as Attica was ovcrcr-iwded with the Peloponne-
sinn refugees, these, together with a large body of Athe-
nians, were Bcni; into Asia. Minor, under tho charge of

hero, who was a member of tho royal family of Mycenir Androclus and Nelcus, the younger sons of Codrus, to

thqr

or Argos, had been driven into exile by some more suc-
cessful candidate for the throne of that state. After
the hero's death, his children sought relugo in Doris, the
king of which became subsequently so much attached
to Hyllus, the eldest son of Hercules, that he consti-
tuted him the heir of his throne. Twice the Ilcradi-
duean princes unsuccessfully attempted to estai-liiih
themselves in tho sovereignty of tlie Peloponi\c8U8,
which they claimed as their right ; but on the third
triul, they accomplished their object. In tho year i 104
B. c, three brothers named Temenus, Cresphontes, and
Aristodemus, said to have been the great-grandsons of
Hyllus, invaded the Peloponnesus at the head of the
Dorians, and conquered the greater part of it, with the
exception of the province of Arcadia, tlie nu'untaiiious
character of whicu enabled its inhabitants to defend it
with success against tho invaders,

Temenus obtained the kingdom of Avgoa, Creephontes'
established himself in Messenia, and as Aristodemus
Lad died during the war, his twin eons Eurysthencs
and Proclcs shared between them the thro'je of Sparta,
The thrones of Corinth and Elia were occupied by other
branches of the Heraclidtran family. The Dorian troops
were rewarded with the lands of the conquered inluibi
tivnts, who were driven out of the Peloponnesus, or re-
duced to slavery. Great numbers of the Peloponnesiaus,
who wore expatriat^^d by the Dorian invaders, passed
over into Asia Minor, where they fo"r<ded severri colo-
nies in a district afterwards oUled AHoli^, from tlie
name of the people by whom those colonies were estab-
lished. Others took refuge in Attica, where the Athe-
nians roccirod them in a friendly manner. This, it

mWK'

plant colonics to the south of those alreiuly formed in
^'^olia. The M^ttlers founded twelve cities, some of
which aCf -wards rose to great wealth and splendour.
Ionia was the name bestowed upon the distnct, in re-
ference to til'. Ionic stock irom which the Athenian*
drew their descent.

Several Dorian colonies in Caria, a province still
farther south than loniii, completed tbo range of Gre-
cian settlements along the western coast of Asia Minor.
Cyprus, Ilbodes, the coast of Thrace, and the islands of
the iEgean Sea, together with a considerable portion of
Italy and Sicily, and even of France and Spain, wore
also colonised by bands ol' adventurers, who at various
periods emigrated from Greece; so that, in process of
time, the Grecian race, language, religion, institutions,
and manner?, instead of being confined to the compara-
tively small country constituting Greece proper, were
diti'used over a very extensive region, comprising the
fii ! rest portioiiH of Europe and of western Asia.

\Vhi!e this work of colonisation was going forward,
the parent states of Greece were torn with internal dis-
sensions, and were perpetually harassing each other in
wars, of which the oLjectfl and incidents are now equally '
uncertain. Almost all that is known of the history of
tlie two centuries immediately following the death of
Codrus is, that they ^vere characterised by great turbu-
lence and confusion, tuid that, during their lapse, many
of the Grecian states nnd colonies followed the example
of Athe'.is by oboliahing monarchy. Others did not,
till a later period, become republican, and Sparta long
retained the singular form of regal government estab-
lished there at the accession of the twin brothers

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OHAUBSBCra IMfOBlUftOir fOB IBS PlEOPtlS.

EwTtUienM wd PiodM, the deiend«ito ot whom
oontinuod for NT«ml ocnturiei to Nign jointly in
IiModMmon, though, prMtiokUy iMaking, no tme of
Oreooe wm mora thoroughly lepublioan in omdj im-
portftnt reqxots.

Oneoe bad twen all along dirided into a number of
independent itatei, and aitier the abolition of kingly
gorerument, leveial of theie were iplit up into m many
ciitinct npublioi ai the state contained of towna.
Theie diTinoni of the country, and the obttaolei which
the almoit incenant wan interposed to a ftee oommu-
sication between the inhabitants of the different dis-
tricts, necessarily prevented the advancement of the
Greeks in knowledge and civilisation; but fortunately,
a king of Elis, named Iphitus, at lencth devised an
institution by which the people of ul the Orecian
states were enabled, notwithstanding their quarrels
and wan with one another, to meet periodically on
£riendly terms, and communicate to each other such
information as might be useful for the improvement
and welfare of the whole.

This institution was the Olympic Festival. From a
veiy remote period, the Greeks had been accustomed to
engage in contests of strength and agility during their
times of festivity, and also at the funerals of distin-
guished personagep. Iphitus conceived, the idea of
establishing a periodical festival in his own dominions
for the celebration of these ancient games, and of re-
ligious rites in honour of Jupiter and Hercules; and
having obtained the authority of the Delphian oracle
for carrying his design into execution, he instituted
the festiTal, and ap^Miuted that it should be repeated
every fourth year at Olympia, a town of Elis.

To this festival he invited all the people of Greece;
Wtd that none might be prevented from attending it
by the wan in which any of the states might be en-
gaged, the Delphic oracle commanded that a general
armistice should take place for some time before and
after each celebration. The date of the establishment
of the Olympic Games (884 b.c.) was afterwards as-
sumed by the Greeks as the epoch from which they
reckoned the progrcos of time; the four yean inter-
venine between each recurrence of the festival being
styled an Olympiad.

Three other institutions of a similar nature were
afterwards established — namely, the Isthmian Games,
celebrated near Corinth ; the Pythian, at Delphi; and
the Nemean, in Argolis. These took place on the
various yean which intervened between the successive
festivals at Olympia; but although they acquired con-
siderable celebrity, none of them rose to the importance
and splendour of that of Iphitus. The games which
were celebrated at the festivals consisted of foot and
chariot races, wrestling and boxing matches, and other
contests requiring strength and agility, together with
competitions in poetry and music. The victon were
crowned with an olive wreath; an honour which it was
esteemed by the Greeks one of the highest objects of
ambition to attain.

M:rtIiology and RdURions Rites.

The religious beliefs and observances of the Greeks,
constituting their mythology, are intimately connected
with the fabulous and poetical portion of their history.
It has alreadv been stated that Uranus, his son Saturn,
and his nanasons Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto, appear
to have been the chiefs of a colony of Egyptians who
settled in Greece at an exceedingly remote period, and
that after their death their ignorant posterity came in
course of time to regard them as gods, and to pay them
divine honoun accordingly. Some, however, are dis-
posed to think that the Greeks borrowed their notions
respecting these and several othen of their deities fh>m
i^gypt and Phoenicia, where they had been worshipped
long before their introduction into Greece by the colo-
nies from these countries. But whether this war really
the case or not, it is certain that the Greeks greatly
embellished the history, and augmented the number, of
their fabulous divinities, so that at last they amounted

to many thousands, of Tarioof degn • of dignity ttd
importance.

According to the poets, who were the prinoipal framen
and expounden of the Grecian mythology, Jupiter, the
chief M the gods, and the ruler of heaven and earth,
was the son of Saturn, a ^od who had been compelled
by a powerful and tyrannical brother, named Titan, to
promise that he would destroy all his male children.
This promise Saturn for some time ftilfiUed by devouring
his sons as soon as they were bom; but at last Rhea,
his wife, contrived to conceal the birth of Jupiter,
Neptune, and Pluto, who thus escaped the fate of their
bnthren. On discoveringthat Saturn had male offsprins
alive in contravention of his engagement. Titan deposed
him from his authority, and cast liim into prison. But
Jupiter, having gro?ra up to manhood, overcame Titan
in turn, and restored Saturn to his throne. These
vicissitudes, it is to be observed, and othen that befell
the early divinities, were the result of the decrees of
Fate; a power ever which the heathen gods are repre-
sented as having had no control.

Notwithstanding this filial nonduct of Jupiter, he
afterwards quarreUed with his father, whom he de-
throned and chased into Italy, where Saturn is said to
have passed his time in a quiet and useful manner,
occupied solely in teaching the rude inhabitants to cul-
tivate and improve the sou. He was afterwards known
(under the name of Chronos) as the god of Time, and
was usually represented under the figure of an old
man, holding in one hand a scythe, and in the other a
serpent with its tail in its mouth, in allusion to the
destructive influence of time, and the endless succes-
sion of the seasons. The rule of Saturn in Italy was
productive of so much happiness, that the period ever
afterwards was called the Golden Age.

After Saturn had been driven mto exile, his three
sous divided his dominions amongst them. Jupiter
reserved to himself the sovereignty of the heavens and
the earth, Neptune obtained the empire of the sea, and
Pluto received as his share the sceptre of the infernal
regions. Jupiter did not, however, enjoy unmolested
his supreme dignity, for the offspring of Titan, a race
of terrible giants, set the new deity at defiance, and
by piling the mountains named Pelion and Ossa on the
top of one another, endeavoured to ascend into heaven,
to pluck him from his throne. The gods, in great
alarm, fled from their divine abode on Mount Olympus
into Egypt, where they concealed their true character
by assummg the forms of various animals; but Jupiter,
assisted by Hercules, at last succeeded in destroying
the giants, and reasserting his sovereign sway. Jupiter
is always represented on a throne with thunderbolts in
his right hand, and an eagle by his side.

Jupiter took in marriage his sister Juno, who is de-
scribed as a beautiful but ill-tempered goddess, and
is usually depicted as seated in a chariot drawn by two
peacocks. Neptune, the brother of Jupiter, and god of
the ocean, is painted as a half-naked man, of mi^estio
figure, with a crown on his head, and a trident or three-
pronged fork in his hand, drawn in a car over the sea
b^ water hones. Pluto, the remaining brother of Ju-
piter, and god of the infernal regions, was painted as
seated on a throne, with his wife noserpine by his side,
and the three-headed dog Cerberus before him.

Nine of the most important of the deities were con-
sidered as the children of Jupiter. Apollo was the
god of music, poetry, painting, and medicine; he is
represented as a young man, of great elegance of person,
with a bow in his hand, and a quiver of arrows at his
back. Man, the god of war, is drawn as an armed
m.%n in a car, with an inferior female deity, named
Bellona, bv his side. Bacchus was the god of wine, and
was UBuallv represented as a young man with a cup
in one hand, and a spear called a thynus in the other.
His name has eiven rise to many phrases in our
language expressive of circumstances connected with
drinking. Mercury was the messenger of Jupiter, und
the god of oratory, of merchandise, and of thieving.
He was represented at a youth flying along the air,

BlSfOfiT 09 GBBEOE.

Witk wtngt at )>!• cap and heeli, and a pacnliar wand
called a caduceui in hU hand. Minerra, the goddeH
of witdom, was painted ae a female of Kvere aapect,
armed on the head and breast, and beurins a tpear
and ihield, while aa owl lita by her tide. Venue, the
goddeu of beauty and lore, waa depicted aa a handsome
woman, in undress. Diana, the gMldess of hunting and
of chastity, appeared as a beautiful female, with bow
and arrow in her hands, buskins on her limbs, and a
crescent on her forehead. Heb^, the goddess of youth,
took the form of a blooming young gul, and was said
to bear the cup of Jupiter.

Another of the children of Jupiter was Vulcan, who
employed himself as an artificer in iron, and hence
he has been assumed as the patron of blacksmiths.
Jupiter is said to hare employed him in fabricating
his thunderbolts. The workshop of Vulcan was be-
lieved to be underneath the burning mountain ^tna,
in Sicily; and the modem term volcano is derived firom
that circumstance.

Besides the other attributes and avocations of Apollo,
he was the deity of the sun, having the task confided
to him of guiding that luminary in its diurnal course
through the heavens. His sister Diana had a similar
charge over the moon. Apollo, or Phoebus, as he was
also named, had a son called Phaethon, who, being, like
many other young people, self-confident and rash, took
advantage of the indulgent disposition of his father to
obtain from him the charge of the chariot of the sun for
one day. But Phaethon had not travelled far on his
journey up the heavens, when his fiery steeds became
unmanageable, and running away with the sun, they
descend^ so close to the earth, that that body was ^t
on fire. Jupiter perceived what had happened, and
fearine that the universe might be consumed, he struck
Phaethon dead with a thunderbolt; then, after a good
deal of trouble, he extinguished the conflagration, and
Kt the sun once more on its usual course.

None of the heathen deities is more frequently re-
ferred to than Cupid, the god of love. He was the son
of Venus, and bore the aspect of a beautiful boy. He
had a pair of wings, and was furnished with a bow and
a quiver of arrows, which he shot into the hearts of
those whom he wished to inflame with the tender
passion over which he had control.

There was a number of divinities of minor impor-
tance. Hymen was the god of marriage, and was re-
presented with a crown of flowers on his head and a
lighted torch in his hand. iGolus was the god of the
wmds, which he kept confined in caverns, except at
■uch times as he chose to let them loose upon the world.
Pan was the god of the country. He was horned, and
had legs, feet, and a tail resembling those of a goat.
His favourite haunt was the vales of Arcadia, where
he attracted the shepherds around him in admiration
by the sweet sounds of his rustic pipe.

Ceres was the goddess of agriculture, and had a
beautiful daughter named Proserpine, who was carried
ofi' by Pluto while she was gathering flowers on the
plains of Sicily, and installed as the queen of the infernal
regions. Ceres, in despair at the loss of her daughter,
and uncertain as to her fate, lighted a torch at Mount
JEtna, and sought for her over the whole earth. In the
course of her wanderings she arrived in Attica, and find-
ing its inhabitants ignorant of husbandry, furnished
them with grain, and taught them how to cultivate
their fields. She at the same time instituted the secret
religious ceremonies at Eleusis, which were afterwards
known by the name of the Eleusinian Mystertei. Ceres
then continued her search for her daughter, and at
leneth obtained information of what had happened
to her. She immediately ascended to heaven and de-
manded redress from Jupiter, who promised to compel
Pluto to restore Proserpine, provided she had eaten
nothinc since her descent into hell. On inquiry, it was
ascertamed that she had eaten some pomegranates,
80 that her return to the upper world was, according to
the laws of the infernal regions, impracticable. But
Jupiter, ct>mpas8ionating her dUconiolate parent, or-

dained that Proaerpine ahould divide her tine between
her mother and her huaband, reaiding lix montha with
each alternately.

Astraea was the goddeaa of ^uatice, and during the
Golden Age, when men were virtuous and happy, she
dwelt, like man^ other deities, on earth; but after the
world became wicked, she bade it » sorrowful farewell,
and ascending to heaven, was transformed into the si^
of the Eodiac which is named rit^o, or the Virgin.
Themis was the goddess of law, and after the departure
of Astrtea, she had also to sustain, as well aa she wai
able, the character of the goddess of justice. We see
in this, as in some other of these mythic fablea, no
small degree of meaning.

Inexorable destiny, which governs all things, waa
personified by three sisters called the Falei, who repre-
sented the Past, the Present, and the Future. Tney
were poetically described as constantly employed in
spinning the thread of human life. One held the
distaflf, another span, and the third cut the thread when
it had reached its appointed lensth. To the decrees of
these stem sisters even Jupiter niniself was obliged to
bend, and his thunders, which afirighted all the other
divinities, were heard by them undisturbed.

The Furies were also three in number, and to them
belonged the task of punishing the guilty both on earth
and in hell. Instead of hair, their heads were covered
with twining serpents, and their looks were fierce and
terrible. Each of the sister Furies waved a blazine
torch in the one hand, while the other wielded a plaited
scouree. The latter instrament inflicted remorseless
punishment on those who had ircurred the anger of
the gods. Wars, famine, and pestilence — the penalty
of vice and crime — proceeded from these dread sisters,
and Orief, Terror, and Madnetg were painted as vheir
inseparable followers.

These avengers of guilt form a striking contrast to
another sisterly trio, to whom the ancients gave the
name of the Oracet. The Graces were named Aglaia,
Thalia, and Euphrosyn^, and their aspect and attri-
butes corresponded with the common name they bore.
They were the daughters of young Bacchus and Venus,
and were usually represented as unattired, and linked
in each other's arms.

The nine Muses were named Thalia, Melpomene,
Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Polyliymuia, Terpsi-
chore, and Urania. They were the patronesses of
literature and the fine arts, and resided on Parnassus,
a lofty mountain in the district of Phocis. Thalia
presided over comedy ; Melpomene ovei tragedy^ ;
Erato over amatory poetrjr; Polyhymnia over lyric
poetry; Calliope over heroic or ejiii poetry and elo-
quence; Clio over history; Eut-n-pe over music; Terp-
sichore over dancing; and Un';ua over the studies of
astronomy and astrology.

There was a class of demi-gods, who filled imaginary
places in every comer both of earth and sea. The shady
groves and flowery vales were peopled by Dryads or
wood-nymphs, and Satyrs, a species of rural deities,
who, like Pan, had the horns, legs, and feet of a goat.
Mountains and streams possessed their euardian goda
and goddesses, and every fountain had its Naiad or
water-nymph. In short, whatever sound or sight in
nature charmed their fancy, the Greeks ascribed the
pleasure to the agency of unseen, but beautiful and
immortal beings. Physical beauty was, nevertheless,
much more prominent than moral in the divinities
shaped out by the imagination of the Greeks. Their
gods were represented as mingling in the affairs of
mortals, and frequently lending their superior power
and intelligence to the promotion of schemes of vice
and villany. They were animated by envy, malice,
and all the evil passions to which men are subject, and
they did not hesitate to adopt any measures, however
base, to gratify their nefarious purposes.

Yet, strange as it may seem, most of the Greeks
appear to have been impressed with sincere religious
feelings, and believed in a future state of rewards and
punishments. They imagined that, after death, the

CHAMBBBffS INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Muh of men descended io the thoiei of a diimal and
peatilentlal itream called the Stjrz, where Charon, a
grim-looking pertonage, aoted as ferrymaii, and rowed
the ipiritt of the dead aeroae the melancholy river, the
boundary of the dominioni of Pluto. To obtain a pai-
aage in Charon'i boat, it wae necesgary that the de-
ceased should have been buried. Those who were
drowned at sea, or who were in any other manner de-
prived of the customary rites of sepulture, were com-
pelled to wander about on the bankd of the Styx for a
nundred years before being permitted to cross it.

After quitting the vessel of Charon, the trembling
■hades adranceu to the palace of Pluto, the gate of
which was guarded by a monstrous, dog, named Cer-
berus, which had three heads, and a body covered with
snakes instead of hair. They then appeared before
Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Acanthus, the three judges
of the infernal regions, by whom the wicked were con-
demned to torments, and the good rewarded with
heavenly pleasures.

Tartarus, the place of punishment, was the abode
of darkness and horror. There Tantalus, for a vile
crime done in life, remained perpetually surrounded
with water, which iied from his lips whenever he at-
tempted to quench his burning thirst, while over his
head hung branches laden with the most inviting
fruits, which shrunk from his grasp as often as he
stretched out his hand to pluck them. There also was
Izion, bound with serpents to the rim of a wheel,
which, constantly revolving, allowed no cessation of his
agonies. Another variety of punishment was allotted
to Sisyphus, who wnn condemned to the endless task oi
rolling a huge stone up the side of a steep mountain,
which he had no sooner accomplished, than it rolled
down again to its former place. On one side criminals
were writhing under the i.ierciless lasL of the avenging
Furies, and on another were > be seen wretches sur-
rounded with unquenchable fli ■ .les.

Elysium, the abode of the blessed, was a region of
nirpassing loveliness and pleasure. Oroves of the
richest verdure, and streams of silvery clearness, were
to be met with on every side. The air was pure, serene,
and temperate, the birds continually warbled in the
woods, and a brighter light than that of the sun was
diffused throughout that happy land. No cares nor
sorrow could disturb its inhabitants, who spent their
time in the untiring enjoyment of those pleasures they
had loved on earth, or in admiring the wisdom and
power of the gods.

The Greeks were pre-eminently an imaginative peo-
ple, and accordingly both their mythology and their
religious rites were calculated rather to amuse the fancy
than to interest the feelings or improve the heart. Their
public worship was altogether ceremonial. In magni-
ncent temples they invoked and offered sacrifices to
the gods, and the solemn festivals of their religion
consisted of pompous processions, public games, dra-
matic entertainments, feasting, and masquerading. To
these were added, in the wor^ip of Bacchus, drunken-
ness, indecency, uproar, and every species of licentious-
ness. It was no business of the priests to inculcate
lessons of instruction or morality; the only doctrine
taught by them was, that the gods demanded slavish
adulation, and an outward show of reverence from
their worshippers, who would be rewarded with the
divine favour in proportion to the abundance and cost-
liness of their offerings.

Besides the public services of religion, there were
certain secret rites, performed only by the initiated, in
honour of particular divinities. The most remarkable
of these mystical observances were the feasts celebrated
at Elcusis in Attica, in honour of the goddess Ceres,
They were called, by way of eminence, the Mysttriet;
and all who were initiated in them were bound by the
most solemn oaths never to reveal them.

The gods were supposed to communicate with men,

and to reveal the secrets of futurity by means of oracles,

several of which existed in various parts of Greece.

One of the earliest, and for some time most celebrated

of these, was that of Dodona in Epiiui. Near that
place there was a grove of oaks, which, according to the
superstitious belief of the ancients, chanted the message
of Jupiter to devout inquiren. Black pigeons were
also said to frequent this grove, and to give oracular
responses. The oracle at Dodoaa is believed to have
owed its origin to an artful woman, itdio had been
stolen from a temple of Jupiter in Egypt, and sold as
a slave in Epirus. To escape from the evils of her de-
graded condition, she resolved to work upon the igno-
rance and credulity of those among whom she had
been brought ; and stationing herself in the grove of
oaks, which afterwards became so famous, she gave out
that she was inspired by Jupiter, and could foretell
future events. The scheme succeeded, and she soon
acquired great repute for her skill in divination ; and
after her death, other artful persons were not backward
in embracing a profession which was rewarded both
with profit and respect.

But by far the most celebrated of the Grecian oracles
was that of Apollo at Delphi, a city built on the slopes
of Mount Parnassus, in Phocis. At a very remote
period, it had been discovered that from a deep cavern
in the side of that mountain an intoxicating vapour
issued, the effect of which was so powerful as to throw
into convulsions both men and cattle. The rude inha-
bitants of the surrounding district, unable to account
for this phenomenon, conceived that it must be pro-
duced by supernatural agency, and regarded the in-
coherent ravings of those who had inhaled the noxious
vapour as prophecies uttered under the inspiration of
some god. As the stupifying exhalation ascended out
of the ground, it was at first conjectured that the
nf v\j -discovered oracle must be that of the very ancient
goddess £arth ; but Neptune was afterwards associated
with this divinity, as on auxiliary agent in the mystery.
Finally, the whole credit of the oracle was transferred
to Apollo. A temple was soon built on the hallowed
spot, and a priestess, nam'-d the Pglhoreu, was ap-
pointed, whose office it was to inhale, at stated inter-
vals, the prophetic vapour. To enable her to do so
without the risk of falling into the cavern, as several
persons had previously done, a seat, called a tripod,
from its having three feet, was erected for her accom-
modation directly over the mouth of the chasm.

Still, however, the Pythoness held an office which
was neither safe nor agreeable. The convulsions into
wiiich she was thrown oy the unwholesome vapours of
the cavern, were in some instances so violent a« "-^
cause immediate death, and were at all times so
ful, that force was often necessary to bring the o
to the prophetic seat. The unconnected words «
the Pythoness screamed out in her madness were ar-
ranged into sentences by the attendant pnests, who
could easily place them in such an order, and fill up
the breaks in such a way, as to r\-M^e them express
whatever was most suitable to th^ interests of the
$hrine, which was the main object. T^est the uracle
should be brought into discredit, care was in general
taken to couch the response in language so obscure and
enigmatical, that whatever c urse events should take
the prediction might not bo falsified, or rather might
appear to be verified. It may be observed that, in the
course of time, some method of simulating convulsions
was most probably adopted by the chief agent in these
impositions.

The fame of the Delphic oracle soon became very
extensive, and no enterprise of importance was under-
taken in any part of Greece, or of its numerous colonies
in the islands and along the coasts of the ^Egean and
Mediterranean Seas, without a consultation of the
Pythoness. The presents received from those who
resorted to it for counsel, not a few of whom were
princes, or influential and wealthy leaders, formed a
source of great and permanent revenue to the institu-
tion, and not only afforde<l the officiating priests a
comfortable maintenance, but furnished also the means
of erecting a s])londid temple, instead of the rude
edifice which had been originally constructed.

HISlrOBT OF GREECE.

The high Tenerktion in which the Delphic oracle wm
held, gare its diiecton a large share of influence in
public affain; an influence which they sometiniei
exerted in a moit commendable manner, in lanction-
ing and furthering the whemes of the Btatesmen, legii-
laton, and warrion, who undertook to improve the
political gyitems, reform the laws and mannon, or
defend the liberties of Greece. Like the Olympian
Festival, it also formed a bond of union among the
numerous independent communities of Greece, and
by lending the authority of the gods to measures of
general utility, often repressed petty jealousies and
quarrels among the different states, and excited all to
study the common welfare.

Even when the rest of Greece was vexed by civil
war, the chosen territory of Apollo was undisturbed
by the din of arms; and the security which it enjopred
on account of its sacred character, caused Delphi to
become a place of deposit for much of the wealth of
the states. Lest the fear of divine vengeance should
not prove a sufficiently strong consideration to deter
the warlike communities by which Delphi was sur-
rounded from plundering a temple in which so much
treasure was accumulated, the sanctuary was placed
under the special protection of a Directory termed the
Amphictyonic Council.

This council consisted of two deputies from each of
the principal states of Greece, and its duties were to
effect, by its recommendation and authority, a settle-
ment of all political and religious disputes which
might arise between the various communities, and to
decide upon proposals of peace or war with foreign
nations. The date of its establishment is uncertain,
but it is supposed to have been in existence as early as
the fourteenth or fifteenth century before the Christian
era; that is to say, about 200 or 300 years before the
war of Troy. Amphictyon, its founder, is asserted by
some to have been a kmg of Attica, and by others to
have reigned over not only that district, but the whole
of Greece to the south of Thessaly.

In the course of the eleventh century before Christ,
the Greeks began to plant colonies in neighbouring
countries. The first colonists, as usually happens in
the present day, were dissatisfied citizens, wl. j thought
they could form happier communities elsewhere. The
vEolians founded twelve cities in Asia Minor, the chief
of which was Smyrna. The Dorians sent off colonies to
Italy and Sicily, founding, in the former, Tarentum
and Locri, and m the latter, Agri^entum and Syracuse.
In the new settlements, the political system was emi-
nently democratic, and for a long time they enjoyed
freat prosperity. This prosperity being ascribed at
ome to their popular institutions, had afterwards the
effect of inciting many of the parent states to change
their monarchical for a democratic form of government.

SECOND OB AUTHENTIC PERIOD OP HISTORY.

The second and authentic period of Greek history
commences in the year 884 b. c, at the institution of
the Olympic Festival, when the people had begun to
emerge from their primitive barbarism. This festival, as
already stated, was instituted by direction of the Del-
phic oracle, by Iphitus, Prince of Elis, for the patriotic
purpose of assembling together, in a peaceful manner,
persons from all parts of Greece. The festival was
ordained to take place once every four jears, in the
month corresponding to our July, and to last five days,
during which there was to be complete truce, or cessa-
tion from war, throughout the Grecian states. Agree-
ably to the ancient practice at public solemnities, the
festival was celebrated by games and various feats of
personal skill, and the whole order of procedure was
regulated with extraordinary care. All freemen of
Grecian extraction were invited to contend, provided
they had been bom in lawful wedlock, and had lived
untainted by any infamous moral stain. No women
(the priestesses of Ceres excepted) were permitted to
be present. Females who violated this law were thrown
from a rock. The competitors prepared themselves

during ten monthi prerloui «i the gynnaaium at Elll,
During the last thirty days, the exercises were per-
formed with ae much regularity as at the g«ine» them-
selves. The festival be^u in the evening with solemn
sacrifices, and the games were commenced the next
day at daybreak. These consisted iu races on horse-
back and on foot, iu leaping, throwing the discus ot
quoit, wrestling, and boxing ; musical and poetical
contests concluded the whole. The honour of having
gained a victory in the Olympic Games was ver^ great;
it extended from the victor to his country, which was
proud of owning him. However rude and boisterous
were some of the sports of the Olympic Festival, it is
acknowledged by the best authorities that they were
attended with manifold advantages to society. It is
sufficient barely to mention the suspension of hostilities,
which took place not only during the festival, but a
considerable time both before and after it. Considered
as a kind of religious ceremony, at which the whole
Grecian citizens were invited, and even enjoined, to
assist, it was well adapted to facilitate intercourse, to
promote knowledge, to soften prejudice, and to hasten
the progress of civilisation and humanity.

At the first institution of the Olympic Festival, and
for one or two centuries afterwards, the condition of
Grecian society was primitive, and almost patriarchal,
but marked by strong features of heroic dimity, and a
certain depth and refinement of thought. The attire of
the men was very simple, consisting only of a shirt or
close jacket to the body, with a loose robe hanging down
over the naked limbs, while performers in the public
games were almost naked. The arts, including agricul-
ture, were also little advanced; few persons seemed to
have thought of toiling to accumulate wealth; and each
community presented, in time of peace, the picture of a
large family. That portion of the people constituting
the freemen lived much in public, or in the society of
their equals, enjoyed common pleasures and amuse-
ments, and had daily opportunities' of displaying their
useful talents in the sight of their fellow-citizens. The
frei^uent disputes between individuals occasioned liti-
gations and trials, which furnished employment for
the eloquence and ability of men in the necessary de-
fence of their friends. The numerous games and public
solemnities opened a continual source of entertainment,
and habituated every man to active physical exercise,
and the performance of his duties as a soldier. These
were agreeable features in the condition of Grecian
society; but there were also some of an opposite cha-
racter. The people were of an unsettled disposition,
never satisfied long with any kind of government which
existed amongst them, and very much disposed to wage
war against neighbouring states on the most trifling
pretences.

The population of the various states was divided into
three classes — namely, the citizens, the enfranchised po-
pulace, and the slaves. All political power, even in the
most democratical of the Grecian communities, was pos-
sessed by the first of these classes, while in the oligarchi-
cal states, only that small portion of the citizens which
constituted the nobility or aristocracypossessed any in-
fiuence in the management of public afl&irs. The mecha-
nical and agricultural labours necessary for the support
and comfort of the whole, were chiefly performed by the
inferior class of free inhabitants, who did not enjoy the
privilege of citizenship, and by the slaves, who formed
a considerable portion of the population of every state.
These slaves were sprung from the same general or
parent stock, spoke the same language, and professed the
same religion, as their masters. They were in most
cases the descendants of persons who had been con-
quered in war, but were in some instances acquired by
purchase. Society being thus based on vicious prin-
ciples, it is not wonderful that the Grecian states were
the scene of constant civil broils.

Sparta— Lycurgus.
At the beginning of this period of Grecian histoiy, our
attention is powerfully attracted by a very remarkable

cnAiSBBBffB wi^RUAtioir rctL the pisopls.

mHm 0/ proe«MHn«i which took place in iMndmmon,
or LmmuU, » oountnr of wttthom Oreaoe, of which the
chief city WM SpwrU. ThU dtr being in • itote of in-
testine diioider. it wm •gre^i by mwiy of the inhabi.
t»nta to inrite Lyourvut, the ion of one of their late
king!, to undertake the imporUnt ta»k of preparing a
new eonititution for hii country. Fortified with the
■anotion of the Delphic oracle, he commenced this dif-
ficult duty, not only lettllng the form of goyemment,
but reforming the locial inttitutioiiB and manners of
the people. The goremment he established consisted
of two joint kings, with a limited prerogative, and who
Mted as presidents of a senate of twenty-eight aged
men. The functions of the senate were deliberative as
well as executive, but no law could be passed without
reoeiving the consent of the assembled citizens. The
most remarkable of the arrangements of Lycurgus was
his attempt to abolish difference of rank, and even dif-
fsrence or circumstances, among the people. He re-
solved on the bold measure of an equal division of
lands, and actually parcelled out the Loconian territory
into 89,000 lots, one of which was given to each citizen
of Sparta, or free inhabitant of Laconia. Each of these
lots was of such a siie as barely sufficed to supply the
wants of a single family — for Lvcuigus was determined
that no person should be placed in such circumstances
as would permit of luxurious living.

Lycurgus carried into effect a number of other vision-
ary prmects : he abolished the use of money, with the
hope of preventing undue accumulation of wealth; pro-
hibited foreigners from entering the country, and the
natives from going abroad, in onler to preserve simpli-
city of manners among the people ; directed that all
men, without distinction of rank or age, should eat daily
together at public tables, which were furnished with
the plainest food; and finally, ordained that all the
children who were bom, and seemed likely to be strong,
should be reared by public nurses, under a rigid system
of privation and personal activity, while the weak in-
fants should be thrown out to the fields to perish. The
citiiens, when they had attained the age of manhood,
were engaged in martial exercises, all laltour being left
to the slaves, or hdots, as they were termed ; and in
short, the whole nation was but a camp of soldiers, and
war was reckoned the only legitimate profession. These
laws were in some measure '.uited to the rude condition
of the Spartans, but, as being opposed to some of the
best and strongest principles in human nature, they
could not possibly endure, and there is reason to be-
lieve that some of them were not strictly enforced. It
is not unusual to see historians use the terra Spartan
virtue with a certain degree of admiration of its quality;
but the Spartans had, m reality, no moral dignity, cer-
tainly no benevolence, in their virtue, either public or
private. They were a small confederacy of well-trained
soldiers; and merely as such, dewrve no mark of our
respect or esteem. The manner in which they used
their helots wm at once barbarous and cruel. The
murder of a serf by a free citizen was not punishable by
law; nay, it was even allowable for the young Spartans
to lie in wait, as a kind of sport, for any good-looking
or saucy-looking slave, and stab him to the heart on
the highway. It is certain that at one time, when the
helots had stood their masters in good stead in battle,
they were desired, by way of reward, to choose out 2000
of their best men, that they might receive their free-
dom, and be enrolled as Spartans, and that these 2000
men were all silently murdered soon after. At another
time, when danger was apprehended from the growing
numbers and petty wealth of the boors, the senate
enacted the farce of declaring war against them, and
coolly murdered many thou<wnds, in order to thin their
numbers and break their spirit. Had there been any
redeeming trait in the Spartan character to compensate
for such barbarity, one would have wondered less at
the respect which is sometimes paid them; but their
military fame only adds another instance to the many
already on record, that the most ignorant and lavage
tribea make the moit dogged soldien.
90

Athens.

We now turn to Athens, the capital of Attica, and
long the principal seat of Grecian leaminff and reflne>
ment. Athens is said to have been founded by Cecrops,
1550 B.C., and in the most ancient times was called
Cecropia. It probably received the name of Athene
from the goddess Minerva, who was called also Athena
by the Greeks, and to whom an elegant temple had been
erected in the city. The old city spread from the mount
of the Acropolis over a wide and pleasant vale or low
peninsula, formed by the junction of the Cephesus and
Ilissus. Its distance from the sea-coast was about five
miles. In the course of time Athens became populous
and surpassingly elegant in its architecture, while its
citizens contrived to take a lead in the affairs of the
communities around. At first they were p;ovemed by
kings, but, as in the case of the Spartan citizens, they
became dissatisfied with their existing constitution, and
about the year 600 b.c. invited Solon, one of the ^sest
men in Greece, to reorganise their political constitution.
Solon obeyed the summons, and constituted the govern-
ment on a broad republican basis, with a council of
state, forming a judicial court, consisting of 400 mem-
bers, and called the Areopagus. This court of Areo-
pagus, besides its other duties, exercised a censorship
over public morals, and was empowered to punish
impiety, profligacy, and even idleness. To this court
every citizen was bound to make an annual statement
of his income, and the sources from which it was derived. '
The court was long regarded with very great respect,
and the right was accorded to it of not only revising the
sentences pronounced by the other criminal tribunals,
but even of annulling the judicial decrees of the general
assembly of the people. The regulations of Solon were
not maintained for any great length of time, although
the republican form of government, in one shape or
other, continued as long as the country maintained its
independence. Clesthenes, the leader of a party, en-
larged the democractic principle in the state; he intro-
duced the practice of otiracism, by which any person
might be banished for ten years, without being accused
of any crime, if the Athenians apprehended that he
had acquired too much influence, or harboured designs
against the public liberty. Ostracism was so called,
because the citizens, in voting for its infliction, wrote
the name of the obnoxious individual upon a shell
(oslreon). It is said that Clesthenes was the first
victim of his own law, as has happened in several other
remarkable cases, ancient and modem.

For a period of about two centuries after the settle-
ment of a '<>publican constitution, there is little of
importance to relate in Athenian history. Athens was
gradually enlarged, the taste for refinement increased,
and various men of sagacious understanding, entitled
Philosophers, began to devote themselves to inquiries
into the nature of the human mind and the character
of the Deity. The principal Grecian philosopher who
flourished in this era (550 b.c.) was Pythagoras, a man
of pure and exalted ideas, and an able expounder of
the science of mind.

THIRD PERILA ^F BISTORT.

The ^ear 490 b.c. closes the gradually-improving
period in Grecian history, or second period, as it has
Deen termed; and now commenced on era marked by
the important event of an invasion from a powerful
Asiatic sovereign.

Persian Invasion.

Darius, king of Persia, having imagined the possi-
bility of conquering Greece, sent an immense army
against it in the year just mentioned. Greatly alarmed
at the approach of such an enemy, the Athenians
applied to the Spartans for aid ; but that people
had a superstition which prohibited their taking the
field before the moon was at the full, and as at the
time of the application it still wanted five days of
that period, they therefore delayed the march of their

tttSfO&Y OF OfiBEOS.

iioopl. fietng ttiui nAiied »U uiiitMioe from thair
neighboan, the Athmiuii ware left to depend entirely
on their own courage and reaouioea. A more remark-
able inttanoe of a imall itate endeavouring to oppoie
the wicked aggrcNion of an OTergrown power, haa ael-
dom occurred in ancient or modern timet; but the con-
stant exeroisei and training of the Athenian population
enabled them to prewnt a bold, and hj no means con-
temptible front to the inrader. War had been their
principal employment, and in the field they displayed
their noblest qualities. They were unacquainted with
those highly -disciplined evolutions which give har-
mony and concert to numerous bodies of men ; but
what was wanting in skill they supplied by courage.
The Athenian, and alio other Oreek soldiers, marched
to the field in a deep phalanx, rushed impetuously to
the attack, and bravely closed with their enemies.
Each warrior was firmly opposed to his antagonist, and
compelled by necessity to the same exertions of valour
as if the fortune of the day had depended on his single
arm. The principal weapon was a spear, which, thrown
by the nervous and well-directed vigour of a steady
hand, often penetrated the firmest shields and bucklers.
When thev missed their aim, or when the stroke proved
ineffectual through want of force, they drew their
swords, and summoning their utmost resolution, darted
impetuously on the foe. This mode of war was com-
mon to the soldiers and generals, the latter being as
much distinguished in battle by their strength and
courage as their skill and conduct. The Greeks had
bows, slings, and darts, intended for the practice of
distant hostility; but their chief dependence was on
the spear and sword. Their defensive armour consisted
(as shown in the fig.) of a bright helmet, adorned with
plumes, and co-
Tering the head,
a strong corslet
defending the
breast, greavea
of brass descend-
ing the leg to
the feet, and an
ample shield,
loosely attached
to the left shoul-
der and arm,
which turned in
all directions,
and opposed its
firm resistance
to every hostile assault. With men thus organised and
accoutred, a battle consisted of so many duels, and
the combatants fought with all the keenness of per-
sonal resentment. The slaughter in such engagements
was correspondingly great, the fight seldom terminat-
ing till one of the parties was nearly destroyed, or at
least greatly reduced in numbers.

It was a people so animated and prepared that the
hosts of Persia were about to encounter. Compelled to
meet the invader* unassisted, the Athenians were able
to march an army of only 9000 men, exclusive of about
as many light-armed slaves, into the field. With Mil-
tiades as their leader and commander-in-chief, they met
the Persians in battle on the plain of Marathon, thirty
miles from Athens, and by great skill and courage, and
the force of their close phalanx of spearmen, completely
conquered them. Upwards of 6000 Persians were slain
on the field, while the number killed of the Athenians
was but 192. This is reckoned by historians one of the
most important victories in ancient times, for it saved
the independence of the whole of Greece. To the dis-
grace of the fickle Athenians, they afterwards showed
the greatest ingratitude to Miltiades, and put him in
prison on a charge of favouring the Persians. He died
there the year after his great victory. Soon after,
the citizens of Athens, on a plea equally unfounded,
banished Aristides, an able leader of the aristocratic
party in the state, and who, from his strict integrity
Mid wisdom, was usually entitled 'Aristides tha Just.'

On the banishment of thii eminent individual, Themis*
tocles, a person who was more demooratic in his senti-
ments, became the leader of the councils of the, Athe-
nians. Meanwhile the Grecian liberties were again
menaced by the Persians. Xerxes, son of Darius,
marched au army across the Hellespont by a bridge of
boats ttota the Asiatic shore, and led it towards the
southern part of Greece. The utmost force that the
confederated Greeks could oppose to the countless host
of Persians did not exceed 60,000 men. Of these, a
band of Spartans, numbering 8000 soldiers, under Leo-
nidas their king, was posted at the pass of Thermopylse,
'to intercept the enemv, and here they discomfited every
successive column oi the Persians as it entered the
defile. Ultimately, foreseeing certain destruction, Leo-
nidas commanded all to retire but 300, with whom ho
proposed to give the Persians some idea of what the
Greeks could submit to for the sake of their country.
He and his 800 were cut off to a man. Xerxes took
possession of Attica and Athens, but in the naval battle
with the Athenian fleet at Salamis, which occurred soon
after (October 20, 480 B.C.), his army was utterly
routed, and its scattered remains retreated into Asia.

By this splendid victory the naval power of Persia
was almost annihilated, and the spirit of its monarch so
completely humbled, that he durst no longer undertake
offensive operations against Greece. Here, therefore,
the war ought to have terminated; but so great and
valuable had been the spoils obtained by the con-
federate forces, that they were unwilling to relinquish
such a profitable contest. The war, therefore, was con-
tinued for twenty years longer, less, apparently, for the
chastisement of Persia, than for the plunder of her
conquered provinces.

But now that all danger was over, many of the
smaller states, whose population was scanty, began to
grow weary of the contest, and to furnish with reluct-
ance their annual contingent of men to reinforce the
allied fleet. It was, in consequence, arranged that
those states whose citizens were unwilling to perform
personal service, should send merely their proportion
of vessels, and pay into the common treasury an annual
subsidy, for the maintenance of the sailors with whom
the Athenians undertook to man the fleet. The un-
foreseen but natural consequence of this was the estab-
lishment of the complete supremacy of Athens. The
annual subsidies gradually assumed the character of a
regular tribute, and were compulsorily levied as such;
while the recusant communities, deprived of their fleets,
which had been given up to the Athenians, were unable
to offer effectual resistance to the oppressive exactions
of the dominant state. The Athenians were thus raised
to an unprecedented pitch of power and opulence, and
enabled to adorn their city, to live in dignified idleness,
and to enjoy a constant succession of the most costly
public amusements, at the expense of the vanquished
Persians, and of the scarcely more leniently-treated
communities of the dependent confederacy.

Pericles.

We have arrived at the most flourishing period of
Athenian history, during which Pericles rose to dis-
tinction, and greatly contributed to the beautifying of
the capital. The talents of Pericles were of the very
first order, und they had been carefully cultivated by the
ablest tutorage which Greece could lUtFord. After serv-
ing for several years in the Athenian army, he ventured
to take a part in the business of the popular assembly,
and his powerful eloquence soon gained him an ascen-
dancy in the national councils; and his power, in fact,
became as great as that of an absolute monarch (445
B.C.). Some of the most interesting events of Grecian
history now occurred. After a number of years of
general peace, a dispute between the state of Corinth
and its dependency the island of Corcyra (now Corfu),
gave rise to a war which again disturbed the repose
of all the Grecian states. Corcyra was a colony of
Corinth, but having, by its maritime skill and enter-
prise, raised itself to a higher pitch of opulence than

SI.

OHAMBEBffS DrrOBUATION FOB THE PEOPLIL

it» pttent otty. it ttot only nfuMd to Mknowladge Co-
rinthiMi rapremMy, but went to war with tliat state
on m quMtion napeoting tlie goTcmmant of Epidamnua,
ft colony whiol* tli« Corqrwans liad planted on the
ooait of Illyria. Corinth a|ipl!ed for and obUiiied aid
from MTeral of the Peloponneiian itatei tu reduce the
Coroyieani to lubjection; while Corey ra, on the other
hand, concluded a defeniire allianco with Athena, which
■ent a fleet to aHiit the iilaud in vindicating iti inde-
pendence. By way of puniihing the Athenian! for
uitenneddling in the quarrel, the Corinthiani stirred
up a rerolt in Potidiea, a town of Chaloidice, near the
confinoi of Macedonia, which hod originally been a
colony of Corinth, but was at this time a tributary of
Athens. The Athenians immediately despatched a fleet
and army for the reduction of Potidaea, and the Pelo-
ponnesians were equally prompt in sending succours to
the city. The Corintmans, meanwhile, were actively
engaged in endeavouring to enlist in their cause those
states which had not yet taken a decided part in the
dispute. To Laoednmon, in particular, they sent am-
bassadors to complain of (he conduct of the Athenians,
which they characterised aa a violation of a univer-
sally-recognised law of Grecian policy — that no state
should interfere between another and its dei>endeucie8.
The eflbrts of the Corinthians were successful, and almost
all the Peloponnesian states, headed by Sparta, together
with many of those beyond the isthmus, formed them-
selves into a confederacy for the purpose of goin^ to
war with Athens. Argos and Achaia at first remained
neuter. Corcyro, Acarnanio, some of the cities of Thes-
saly, and those of Plataea and Naupactus, were all that
took part with the Athenians.

Pericles beheld without dismay the gathering of the
storm, but his countrymen were not equally undaunted.
They perceived that they were about to be called upon
to exchange the idle and luxurious life they were at
present leading for one of hardship and danger, and
they began to murmur against their political leader for
involving them in so alarming a quarrel. They had not
at first the courage to impeach Pericles himself, but
rented their displeasure against his friends and favou-
rites. Phidias, a very eminent sculptor, whom the
great statesman hod appointed superintendent of public
uildings, was condemned to imprisonment on a frivo-
lous charge ; and the philosopher Anaxagoras, the
preceptor and friend of Pericles, was charged with dis-
seminating opinions subversive of the national religion,
and banished from Athens. Respecting another cele-
brated individual who at this time fell under persecu-
tion, it becomes necessary to say a few words. Aspasia
of Miletus was a woman of remarkable beauty and
brilliant talents, but she wanted that chastity which
is the greatest of feminine graces, and by her dissolute
life was rendered a reproach, as she would otherwise
have been an ornament, to her sex. This remarkable
woman having come to reside in Athens, attracted the
notice of I'ericles, who was so much fascinated by
her beauty, wit, and .eloquence, that, oftar separating
from his wife, with whom he had lived unhappily, he
.> married Aspasia. It was generally believed that, for
the gratification of a private grudge, she iiad insti-
gated Pericles to quarrel with the Peloponnesian states,
and her unpopularity on this score was the true cause
of her being now accused, before the assembly of the
people, of impiety and grossly - immoral practices.
Pencles conducted her defence in person, and pled for
her with so much earnestness, that he was moved even
to tears. The people, either finding the accusations to
be really unfounded, or unable to resist the eloquence
of Pericles, acquitted Aspasia. His enemies next di-
rected their attack against himself. They accused him
of einbezzling the public money; but he completely
rebutted the charge, and proved that he had drawn his
income from no other source than his private estate.
His frugal and unostentatious style of living must
have of itself gone far to convince the Athenians
of the honesty with which he had administered the
public affairs; for while he was filling the city with
92

templM, portiooes, and other magnlilMnt works of art,
and providing many costly entertainments for the
people, his own domestic establishment was regulated
with such strict attention to economy, that the mem-
bers of his family complained of a parsimony which
formed a marked contrast to the splendour in which
many of the wealthy Athenians then lived.

Confirmed in his authority by this triumphant refu-
tation of the slanders of his enemies, Pericles adopted
the wisest measures for the public defence against the
invasion which was threatened bv the Peloponnesians.
Unwilling to risk a battle with the Spartans, who were
esteemed not less invincible by land than the Athe-
nians were by sea, he caused the inhabitants of Attica
to transport their cattle to Euboea and the neighbouring
islands, and to retire, with as much of their other pro-
perty as they could take with them, within the walls
of Athens. Dy his provident care, the city was stored
with provisions sufficient for the support of the multi-
tudes which now crowded it; but greater difficulty was
found in furnishing proper accommodation for so vast
a population. Man^ found lodgings in the temples
and other public edifices, or in tne turrets on the city
walls, while great numbers were obliged to construct
for themselves temporary abodes in the vacant space
within the long walls extending between the city and
the port of Pirssus.

The memorable contest of twenty-seven years' dura-
tion, called ' the Peloponnesian War,' now commenced
(431 B. c). The Spartan king, Archidamus, entered
Attica at the head of a large army of the confederates,
and meeting with no opposition, proceeded along its
eastern coast, burning the towns, and laying waste the
country in his course. When the Athenians saw the
enemy ravaging the country almost up to their gates,
it required all the authority of Pericles to keep them
within their fortifications. While the confederates were
wasting Attica with fire and sword, the Athenian and
Corcyrean fleets were, by the direction of Pericles,
avenging the injury by ravaging the almost defence-
less coasts of the Peloponnesus. This, together with a
scarcity of provisions, soon induced Archidamus to lead
his array homewards. He retired by the western coast,
continuing the work of devastation as he went along.

Early in the summer of the following year, the con-
federates returned to Attica, which they were again
permitted to ravage at their pleasure, as Pericles still
adhered to his cautious policy of confining his efforts
to the defence of the capital. But an enemy far more
terrible than the Peloponnesians attacked the unfortu-
nate Athenians. A pestilence, supposed to have origi-
nated in Ethiopia, and which had gradually spread over
Egypt and the western parts of Asia, broke out in the
town of Piroius, the inhabitants of which at first sup-
posed their wells to have been poisoned. The disease
rapidly advanced into Athens, where it carried off a
great number of persons. It is described as having
been a species of infectious fever, accompanied with
many painful symptoms, and followed, in those who
survived the first stages of the disease, by ulcerations of
the bowels and limbs. Historians mentioti, as a proof
of the singular virulence of this pestilence, that the
birds of prey refused to touch the unburied bodies of
its victims, and that all the dogs which fed upon the
poisonous relics perished. The mortality was dread-
ful, and was of '^■ourse greatly increased by the over-
crowded state of the city. The prayers of the devout,
and the skill of the physicians, were found equally
unavailing to stop the progress of the disease; and the
miserable Athenians, reduced to despair, believed them-
selves to be forgotten or hated by their gods. The sick
were in many cases left unattended, and the bodies of
the dead allowed to lie unburied, while those whom
the plague hod not yet reached, openly set at defiance
all laws, human and divine, and rushed into every
excess of criminal indulgence.

Pericles was in the meantime engaged, with a fleet
of 150 ships, in wasting with fire and sword the shores
of the Peloponnesus. At his return to Athens, finding

HISTORT OF GREECE.

that the enemy h«d haatily retired iVom Attioft, through
fear of the contagion of the plague, he despatched tne
fleet to the coait of Chalcidice, to awiit the Athenian
land foroei who were itill engaged in the sieoe of Po-
tidtsa — an unfortunate meaiure, nroductive of no other
reiult than the communication of the pestilence to the
besieging army, by which the minority of the troops
were sneedily swept awav. Maddened bv their suffer-
ings, tne Athenians now became loud in their murmurs
against Pericles, whom they accused of having brought
upon them at least a portion of their otlamities, by in-
volring them in the Peloponnesian war. An assembly
of the people was hold, in which Pericles entered upon
a justification of his conduct, and exhorted them to
courage and perseverance in defence of their indepen-
dence. The hardships to which they had been exposed
by the war, were, he observed, only such as he had in
former addresses prepared them to expect; and as for
the pestilence, it was a calamity which no human pru-
dence could either have foreseen or averte<l. He re-
minded them that they still possessed a fleet which
that of no potentate on earth could equal or cope with,
and that, after the present evil should have passed
away, their navy might yet enable them to acquire
universal empire. * What we suffer from the gods,'
continued he, 'we should bear with patience; what
from our enemies, with manly fimmess; and such were
the maxims of our forefathers. From unshaken forti-
tude in misfortune has arisen the present power of this
commonwealth, together with that glory which, if our
empire, according to the lot of all earthly things, decay,
shall still survive to all posterity.'

The eloquent harangue of Pericles diminished, but
did not remove, the alarm and irritation of the Athe-
nians, and they not only dismissed him from all his
offices, but imposed upon him a heavy fine. Mean-
while domestic afflictions were combining with political
anxieties and mortifications to Oppress the mind of this
eminent man, for the members of his family were one
by one perishing by the plague. Still, however, he bore
himself up with a fortitude which was witnessed with
admiration by all around him; but at the funeral of
the last of his children, his firmness at length gave way;
and while he was, according to the custom of the country,
placing a garland of flowers on the head of the corpse,
be burst into loud lamentations, and shed a torrent of
tears. It was not long till his mutable countrymen
repented of their harshness towards him, and reinvested
him with his civil and military authority. He soon
after followed his children to the grave, falling, like
them, a viotim to the previuling pestilence (429 b.c.).
The concurrent testimony of the ancient writers assigns
to Pericles the first place among Grecian statesmen for
wisdom and eloquence. Though ambitious of power,
he was temperate in its exercise; and it is creditable
to his memory, that, in an age and country so little
scrupulous in the shedding of blood, his long adminis-
tration was as merciful and mild as it was vigorous
and effective. When constrained to make war, the
constant study of this eminent statesman was, how to
overcome his enemies with the least possible destruc-
tion of life, as well on their side as on his own. It is
related that, when he was lying at the point of death,
and while those who surrounded him were recounting
his great actions, he suddenly interrupted them by ex-
pressing his surprise that they should bestow so much
praise on achievements in which he had been rivalled
by many others, while they omitted to mention what he
considered his highest and peculiar honour — namely,
that no act qf hit had ever earned any At/ienian to pxtt
on mourning.

After the death of Pericles, the war was continued,
without interruption, for seven years longer, but with
no reiy decisive advantage to either side. During this
period the Athenian councils were chiefly directed by
a coarse-minded and unprincipled demagogue named
Cleon, who was at last killed in battle under the walls
of Amphipolis, a Macedonian city, of which the posses-
sion waa disputed by the Atheuiaus and Lacediemoniaus.

Cleon was succeeded in the diraction of public affairs
by Nicias, the leader of the aristocratical party, a man
of virtuous but unenterprising character, and a military
officer of moderate abilities. Under his auspices a peace
for fifty years, commonly known by the name ot' the
' Peace ot Nicias,' was concluded in the tenth year of
the war (421 b,c.). It was not long, however, till the
contest was resumed. Offended that its allies had given
up a contest undertaken for the assertion of its alleged
rights, Corinth refused to be a party to the treaty of
peace, and entered into a new quadruple alliance with
Argos, Elis, and Mantinsea, a city of Arcadia; the os-
tensible object of which confederation was the defence
of the Peloponnesian states against the aggressions of
Athens and iiiparta. This end seemed not difficult of
attainment, as fresh distrusts had arisen between the two
last-mentioned republics, on account of the reluctance
felt and manifested bv both to give up certain places
which they had bouncl themselves by treaty mutually
to surrender. The jealousies thus excited were fanned
into a violent flame by the artful measures of A Icibiades,
a young Athenian, who now began to rise into political
power, and whose genius and character subsequently
exercised a strong influence upon the affairs of Athens.

Aloibtades.

Alcibiades was the son of Clinias, an Athenian of
high rank. Endowed with uncommon beauty of person,
and talents of the very highest order, he was unfortu-
nately deficient in that unbending integrity which is
an essential element of every character truly great, and
his violent passions sometimes impelled him to act in
a manner which has brought disgrace on his memory.
While still very young, Alcibiades served in the Athe-
nian army, and became the companion and pupil of
Socrates, one of the wisest and most virtuous of the
Grecian sages. Having rendered some service to his
country in a protracted and useless war with Lace-
dromon, and being possessed of a talent for addressing
the passions of the multitude, Alcibiades, as others had
done before him, became the undisputed head of public
affairs in Athens. But this pre-eminence was not of
long continuance. An opinion arose among the peoplo
that he designed to subvert the constitution, and his
fall was as quick as his promotion. Many of his friends
were put to death, and he, while absent on an expedi-
tion, deprived of his authority. Being thus left without
a public director of affairs, Athens, as usual, was torn by
internal discords : the aristocratic faction succeeded in
overthrowing the democratical govem.-pont (411 B.C.),
and establishing a council of 400 in : 'iduals to admi-
nister the affairs of the state, with the , v. ' r of convoking
an assembly of 5000 of the principal citi ' ens for advice
and assistance in any emergency. These 400 tyrants,
as they were popularly called, were no sooner invested
with authority, than they annihilated every remaining
portion of the free institutions of Athens. They behaved
with the greatest insolence and severity towards the
people, and endeavoured to confirm and perpetuate
their usurped power, by raising a body of mercenary
troops in the islands of the ^gean, for the purpose of
overawing and enslaving their fellow-citizens. The
Athenian army was at this period in the island of Samos,
whither it had retired after an expedition against the
revolted cities of Asia Minor. When intelligence
arrived of the revolution in Athens, and the tyrannical
proceedings of the oligarchical faction, the soldiers
indignantly refused to obey the new government, and
sent an invitation to Alcibiades to return among them,
and assist in re-establishing the democratical constitu-
tion. He obeyed the call; and as soon as he arrived
in Samos, the troops elected him their general. He
then sent a message to Athens, commanding the 400
tyrants to divest themselves immediately of their un-
constitutional authority, if they wished to avoid depo-
sition and death at his hands.

This message reached Athens at a time of the greatest
confusion and alarm. The 400 tyrants had quarrelled
among themselves, and were about to appeal to tho

CHAHBIBM OlfOlMATKUr fOB TBI PEOPUL

•word : tb« lilud of Eubam ftom which Aihtw h*d
for •ometimo bMn prlndpidly wiDplitd wWh prorWoM,
hMl roToUod, »Dd iho Am* whidi h»d htm mat to re-
duco it had bMii dottroyod hj tho UowtomonlMi, to
th»t tho coMtt of Atticm Md tho port of Atheni itiolf,
woro now without defonoo. In theao diitr«Ming oir-
ouniitonoM, tho poople, rouiwl to dMp«r»tion, to-
upon thoir opproMor^ oTorturnod tho noTemmont of
tho iOO, aftor m tsiatonco of only » few months, wid
rO'ettkblishod their ancient inititutioni. AloibiMM
WM now reoalled ; but before reviiiting Athene, he
WM deeiroui of uerforming lome brilliant military ex-
ploit, which mignt oblitorate the recollection of hie late
conneotion with the Spartans, and giro his return an
air of triumph. He accordingly joined the Athenian
fleet, then stationed at the entrance of the Hellespont,
and soon obtained sereral important Tictories over the
Lacedatmonians, both by sea and land. He then re-
turned to Athens, where he was received with trans-
ports of joy. Chaplets of flowers were showered upon
lis head, and amidst the most enthusiastic acclama-
tions he proceeded to the place of assembly, where he
addnssM the people in a speech of such eloquence and
power, that at Its conclusion a crown of gold was placed
upon bis brow, and he was invested with the supreme
command of tho Athenian forces, both naval and mili-
tary. His forfeited property was restored, and the
priests were directed to revoke the curses which had
formerly been pronounced upon him.

This popularity of Alcibiados was not of long conti-
nuance. Many of the dependencies of Athens being in
a state of insurrection, he auumed the command of an
armament intended for their reduction. But circum-
stances arose which obliged him to leave the fleet for
a short time in charge of one of his oflicers, named
Antiochus, who, in despite of ezprets orders to the con-
trary, gave battle to the Lacedemonians during the
absence of the commander-in-chief, and was defeated.
When intelligence of this action reached Athens, a
violent clamour was raised against Alcibiades : he was
accused of having neglected his duty, and received a
second dismissal from all his offices. On hearing of
this, he quitted the fleet, and retiring to a fortress he
had built in the Chersonesus of Thrace, he collected
around him a band of military adventurers, with whose
assistance he carried on a predatory warfare against the
neighbouring Thracian tribes.

Alcibiades did not long survive his second disgrace
with his countrymen. Finding his Thracian residence
insecure, on account of the mcreasing power of his
Lacedamonian enemies, he crossed the Hellespont, and
settled in Bithynia, a country on the Asiatic side of the
Propontis. Being there attacked and plundered by the
Thracians, he proceeded into Phrygia, and placed him-
self under the protection of Phamabasus, the Persian
satrap of that province. But even thither the unfor-
tunate chief was followed by the unrelenting hatred of
the Lacedasmonians, by whose directions he was pri-
vately and foully assassinated. Thus perished, about
the fortieth year of his age (403 B.C.), one of the ablest
men that Greece ever produced. Distinguished alike
as a warrior, an orator, and a statesman, and in his
nature noble and generous, Alcibiades would have been
truly worthy of our admiration if he had possessed
probity ; but his want of principle, and his unruly
passions, led him to rommit many grievous errors,
which contributed not a little to produce or ai^ravate
thote calamities which latterly overtook him.

DBCLINE OF ATHENIAN INDBPENOENCE.

With Alcibiades perished the last of the great men
who possessed the power to sway the wild democracy,
or, properly speakii^, the mob of Athens. From the
period of his death till the subjugation of the country,
the Athenian people were at the mercy of contending
factions, and without a single settled principle of
government. During this bri^ period of their history,
in which a kind of popular democracy had attained the
command of affiurs, happened the trial and oondemua-
94

tion of Soeraiee, an eminenk teadiar of norals, nd »
man guiltless of every oflintce but that of dii^radng,
by his Illustrious merit, the viees and folliee of his
oonteroporaries. On the false charge of oormpting the
morals of the pupils who listened to his admirable ex-
positions, and of den:

lying the religion of his oountiy, he

lisgraee of the Athenians, compelled

to die by drinkinir poison, a fate which he submitted

was. to the eternal dli

to with a magnanimity which hat rendered hit name
for ever celebrated. This odious transaetion occurred
in the year 400 kc.

After the death of this great man, the political inde-
pendence of Athens drew to its termination — a cireum-
stance which cannot excite the least surprise, when we
reflect on the turbulence of its oitiiens, their persecu-
tion of virtue and talent, and their unhappy distrust
of any settled form of government. Their ruin wai
finally accomplished by tneir uncontrollable thirst for
war, and can create no emotions ofpity or regret in the
reader of their distracted history. The Lacedssmonians,
under the command of an able ofllcer named Lysander,
attacked and totally destroyed the Athenian fleet. By
this means having obtained the undisputed command
of the sea, Lvsander easily reduced those cities on
the coasts of 1 brace and Asia Minor, and those islands
of the JEgetM, which still acknowledged the supre-
maov of Athens. Having thus stripped that once
lordly state of all its dependencies, he proceeded to
blockade the city of Athens itself. The Athenians
made a heroic defence; but after a lengthened siegej
during which they suffered all the horrors of famine,
the^ were obliged to surrender on such conditions aa
their enemies tbousht fit to impose (404 B.C.). The
Spartans demanded that the fortifications of Pirssus,
and the long walls which conneoted it with the city,
should be demolished; that the Athenians should re-
linquish all pretensions to authority over their former
tributaries, recall the exiled partisans of the 400 tyrants,
acknowledge the supremacy of Sparta, and follow its
commanders in time of war ; and finally, that they
should adopt such a political constitution as should
meet the approbation of the Laoedssmonians.

Thus sank the power of Athens, which had so long
been the leading state of Greece, and thus terminated
the Peloponnesian war, in which the Grecian commu-
nities had been so long engaged, to little other purpose
than to waste the strength, and ezhauit the resources,
of their common country.

Condition of Athens;

During the age preceding its fall, Athens, as already
mentioned, had been greatly beautified and enlarged
by Pericles. At the same time, the comparative simpli-
city of manners which formerly prevailed was exchanged
for luxurious habits. This alteration has been thus de-
scribed by Gillies in his ' Histuiy of Ancient Greece :' —
' In the course of a few years, the success of Aristides,
Cimon, and Pericles, bad tripled the revenuee, and
increased in a far greater proportion the dominions of
the republic. The Athenian galleys comnanded the
eastern coasts of the Mediterranean ; their merchantmen
had engrossed the traffic of the adiacent countries; the
magazines of Athens abounded with wood, metal, ebony,
ivory, and all the materials of the useful as well as of
the agreeable arts; they imported the luxuries of Italy,
Sicily, Cyprus, Lydia, Pontus, and Peloponnesus; ex-
perience had improved their skill in working the ulver
mines of Mount Laurium ; they had lately opened the
valuable marble veins in Mount Pentelicus; the honey
of Hymettus became important in domestic use and
foreign traffic; the culture of their olives (oil being long
their staple commodity, and the only production of
Attica which Solon allowed them to export) must have
improved with the general improvement of the country
in arts and agriculture, especially under the active
administration of Pericles, who liberally let loose the
public treasure to encourage eveiy species of industiy.

But if that minister promoted the love of action, he
found it necewarj at least to comply with, if not to ex-

HIBfOBT OF OBEBCI.

cit« the •iii«m« iMMiion for pl«Mur« which thm bagM
to diitlnguiah his oouDtrjnnra. The p«opl« of Athroi,
■ucoewful in erwy ratorpriM u»init th«ir foroign m
well M domMtic MitniiM, MtniM tntitlad to iMp tho
fruitt of thrir dMgen and Tictorket. For the ipMo of »t
ItMt twelve yeui preceding the war of Peloponnetui,
their city afforded a perpetual icene of triumph and
fettiTitjr, Dramatic entertainment!, to which thejr were
paMiouately addicted, were no longer performed in
■light, unadorned edifioei, but in itone or marble
theatrei, erected at great eipenie, and embelliihed
with the tnoit preciout productione of nature and of art.
The treaeurv wai opened, not only to tuppljr the deco-
ration! of thi! favourito amuaement, but to enable the
poorer oitixeni to enjoy it, without incurring any prirate
expenee; and thus, at the coit of the state, or rather of
it! tributary allies and colonies, to feast and delight
their ears and fancy with the combined charms of music
and poetry. The pleasure of the eye wai peculiarly
consulted and gratified in the architecture of theatres
and other ornamental buildings; for as Themistocles
had !trengthened, Periclee adorned, hie native city;
and unless the concurring testimony of antiquity was
illustrated in the Parthenon, or Temple of Minerva,
and other existing remains worthy to be immortal, it
would be difficult to believe that in the space of a few
years there could have been created those numerous,
yet inestimable wonders of art, those temples, theatres,
statues, altars, baths, gymnasia, and porticoes, which,
in the language of ancient panegyric, rendered Athens
the eye and light of Oreece.

Pericles was blamed for thus decking one favourite
city, like a vain voluptuous harlot, at the expense of
plundered provinces; but it would have been fortunate
for tho Athenians if their extorted wealth had not been
employed in more perishing, as well as more criminal,
luxury. The pomp of religious solemnities, which were
twice as numerous and costly in Athens as in any other
city of Oreece — the extravagance of entertainments and
banquets, which on such occasions always followed the
sacrifices — the increase of private luxury, which natu-
rally accompanied this public profusion — exhausted the
resources, without augmenting the glory, of the republic.
Instead of the bread, herbs, and simple fare recom-
mended by the laws of Solon, the Athenians, soon after
the eightieth Olympiad, availed themselves of their
extensive commerce to import the delicacies of distant
countries, which were prepared with all the refinements
of cookery. The wines of Cyprus were cooled with
snow in summer; in winter, the most delightful flowers
adorned the tables and persons of the wealthy Athe-
nians. Nor was it sufficient to be crowned with roses,
unless they were likewise anointed with the most pre-
cious perfumes. Parasites, dancers, and buffoons, were &
usual appendage of every entertainment. Anions thi
weaker sex, the passion for delicate birds, distinguulied
by their voice or plumage, was carried to such excess,
as merited the name of madness. The bodies of such
vouths as were not peculiarly addicted to hunting and
horses, which began to be a prevailing taste, were cor-
rupted by a lewd style of living; while their minds were
still more polluted by the licentious philosophy of the
sophists. It is unnecessary to crowd the picture, since
it may be observed, in one word, that the vices and
extravagances which are supposed to characterise the
declining ages of Oreece and Rome, took root in Athens
during the administration of Pericles, the most splen-
did and most prosperous in the Grecian annals.'

Durine this period flourished ^schylus and Sopho-
cles, Euripides and Aristophanes, dramatists ; Pindar,
a lyrical poet; Herodotus and Thucydides, historians;
Xeiiophanes, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and
Socrates, philosophers (reasoners upon the nature of
the human mind, and upon man's immortal destinv).
In this period also, under the administration of Pericles
(from 458 to 429 b. c), sculpture and architecture at-
tained their perfection. It was then that Phidias exe-
cuted those splendid works, statues of the gods and
goddesies, which excited the admiiation of the world,

bdd which luooMdinf artiito kava in Tnin endsaToared
to rival. While Athens had extended its power over a
fpeat part of the coasts of tba Jtg—n Sea, and increased
Its trade and commeree by every available means, it
bad also become a city of palaces and templse, whose
ruins continue to be the s^dmiration of ages for their
grandeur and beautv. It is understood that the Greeks
bad acquired their knowledge of architecture from the
Egyptians ; but they greatly excelled them in the ele<
gance of their designs, and are in a great measure
entitled to the character of inventors in the art. The
beauty of the Corinthian pillar, for example, has never
been excelled either in ancient or modem times. (See
Abchitbcture, in Vol. I.)

After the surrender of Athens to the Spartans (404
B.C.), the democratical constitution was abolished, and
the goveniment was intrusted to thirty persons, whose
rapacious, oppressive, and bloody administration era
long procured them the title of the Thirty Tyrants.
The ascendancy of these intruders was not, however, of
long duration. Conon, assisted privately by the Per-
sians, who were desirous of humiliating the Spartans,
expelled the enemy, and re-established the indepen-
dence of his country. About seventy years later, a new
source of agitation throushout Oreece was caused by
the warlike projects of Alexander, king of Macedon,
usually styled

Alnsndar the Great.

This intrepid and ambitious soldier was the son of
Philip, king of Macedon, a small territory adjacent to
the Drecian states, from which it had originally received
a knowledge of arts and learning. Alexander was bom
in the year 35C B.C., (.nd by his father was committed
to the charge of the philosopher Aristotle to be edu-
cated ; a duty which was faithfully fulfilled. By the
assassination of Philip, Alexander was called to the
throne of Macedon whilu yet only twenty rears of age,
and immediately had an opportunity of displaying his
great warlike abilities in conducting an expedition into
Greece, which was att jnded with signal success, and
procured for him the honour of succeeding his father
as commander-in-chief of the Grecian states. He now
carried out a design which had been fomied by Philip,
to subdue Persia and other countries in Asia. In tho
spring of 334 a. c, he crossed over to the Asiatic coast,
with an army of 30,000 foot and 5000 horse, thus com-
mencing the most important military enterprise which
is narrated in the pages of ancient history. Alexander
marched throush Asia Minor, and in successive en-
counters completely conquered the armies of Persia;
but the whole history of his progress is but an account
of splendid victories. Durinc a space of about seven
or eight years, he conquered Persia, Assyria, Egypt,
Babylonia, and, in fact, became master of nearly all
the half-civilised countries in Asia and Africa. It
does not appear that Alexander had any motive for
this wide-spread overthrow of ancient and remote sove-
reignties, excepting that of simple ambition, or desire
of conquest, with perhaps the indefinite idea of im-
proving the social condition of the countries which he
overran. From various circumstances in his career, it
is apparent that he never contemplated the acquisition
of wealth or of praise, except such as could be shared
with his soldiers, for whom he displayed a most pa-
ternal affection. His character in this respect shines
forth in a remarkable speech which he delivered to his
army after these great conquests, and when some
mutinous murmurs had broken forth in his camp.
Mounting the tribunal, he spoke as follows : — ^ It is
not my wish, Macedonians, to change your resolution.
Return home without hindrance from me. But before
leaving the camp, first leam to know your king and
yourselves. My father Philip (for with him it is ever
fit to begin) found you, at his arrival in Macedon,
miserable and hopeless fugitives ; covered with skins
of sheep ; feeding among the mountains some wretched
herds, which you had neither strength nor courage to
defend against the Thiacians, lilyrians, and Triballi.

OHAUBBUmi DTfOBMATIOK FOR THl PIOPLl.

Hiring rtiMlM tht mTtftn of your oottntry, k«
brought you ftom the mountiUiii to tb« pWu, wmI
tauflit you to oonfld*. not in your ft-tnoiJM, but In your
viUour. By hii wiadom and diMipline. h« tninod you
to nrtt w»d dylUty, •nrlchtd you with niinoi of gold,
iutruetod you in unvigMion and oommtroe, and reii-
dorad you a torror to tboM natiuui at whoM naiuvi

Sou UMd to trenibl*. Ne«<i I mention hit conquMti
I Upper Thrace, or thoee, ttill more Taluable, in the
maritime prorinoaeof that country t Having opened the
gates of Oieeoe, he oliastiied the Phoenician!, reduced
UoTheMaliant, and while I ihared the command, de-
fMted and humbled the Athenian! and Theban!| eter-
nal foes to Maoedon, to whom you bad l>een !uooe!aiTely
tributaries, subjeoti, and !laTes. liut ray father ren-
dered you their masters ; and having entered the
Peloponueeus, and regulated at discretion the alFairs
<^ tnat peninsula, he was appointed, by universal
eonsent, general of combined (ireece; an appointment
not more honourable to himself than glorious for
^ countnr. At mj accession to the throne, I found
a debt of 500 talents, and scarcely sixty iu the
treasury. I contracted a fro«h debt of UOO ; and con-
ducting you from Macedou, whose boundaries seemed
unworthy to confine you, safely crossed the Hellespont,
though the Persians then commanded the tea. Uy one
victory we gained Ionia, i'Eolia, both Phrygias, and
Lydia. Hy our courage and activity, the provinces of
Ctlicia and Syria, the strength of Palestine, the anti-
quity ot Egypt, and the renown of Persia, were added
to your empire. Yours now are Bactria and Aria, the
productions of India, the feKility of Assyria, the wealth
of Susa, and the wonders of Babylon. You are gene-
rals, princes, satraps. What have I resert'ed for myself
but this purple and diadem, which mark my pre-
eminence in toil and dangers t Where are my private
treasures I Or why should I collect them 1 Are my
pleasures expensive I You know that I faro worse than
any of yourselves; and have in nothing spared my
person. Let him who dares compare with me. Let
aim bare his breast, and I will bare mine. My bodv,
the foro part of my body, is covered with honourable
wounds from every sort of weapon. I often watch, that
you may repose safely; and to testify ray unremitting
attention to your happiness, had determined to send
home the aged and infirm among you, loa<led with
wealth and honour. But since you are all desirous to
leave me, go 1 Report to your countrymen that, un-
mindful of the signal bounty of your king, you intrusted
him to the vanquished barbarians. The report, doubt-
less, will bespesdc your gratitude and piety.'

This impassioned and touching oration deeply aiTccted
the discontented soldiers, and all gladly returned to
their allegiance. Shortly after this, the extraordinary
career of Alexander was suddenly cut short by death.
At Babylon, while engaged in extensive plans for the
future, he became sick, and died in a few days, 323 ii.c.
Such was the end of this conqueror, in his thirty-second
year, after a rei^n of twelve years and eight months.
He loft behind him an immense empire, which, possess-
ing no consolidated power, and only loosely united by
oonquest, became the scene of continual wars. The
generals of the Macedonian army respectively seized
upon different portions of the empire, each trusting in
his sword for an independent estiJblishment. The
greedy struggle for uower finally terminated in con-
firming Ptolemy in tne possession of Egypt; Seleucus
in Upper Asia; Cassander in Macedoii and Greece;
while several of the provinces in Lower Asia fell to the
■hare of Lysfmachus.

OONCLUDINO PBRIOD OP QHEEK BISTORT.

At the death of Alexander, the Athenians considered
it a fit opportunity to emancipate themselves from the
ascendancy of Macedon ; but without success. Demos-
thenee, one of the most eminent patriots and orators
of Athens, on this occasion, to avoid being assassinated
by order of Antfpater, the Macedonian viceroy, killed
himself by swallowing poison ; and his compatriot

I'hodoi^ was shortly afterwards put to death by his
own countrymen, the Athenians, in a mad outbnwk of
popular tmj, Greece oannot be said to havr produced
one great man after Phooiont and this defleienoy of
wise and able leaders was doubtlees one chief cause of
the insignificance into which the various states, great
and small, sunk after this epoch.

The ancient history of Greece, as an independent
country, now draws to a dose. Aehaia, hitherto a
small, unimportant state, having begun to make some
pretensions to political conseouenoe, excited the enmity
of Sparta, and was compelled to seek the protection of
Philip, the ruling prince of Macedon. Philip took the
field against the Spartans, and their allies the Atolians,
and was in a fair way of subjecting aU Greece by arms
and influence, when he ventured on the fatal step of
commencing hostilities against the Itomans. This
measure consummated the ruin of Gree c e, as well as
that of Macedon. The Uomans waned with Philip
till the end of his life (17A B.C.), and oontinuod the
contest with his son Perseus, whom they utterly de-
feated, and with whom ended the line of the kings of
Macedon. In a few years the onoe illustrious and ttta
republics of Greece were converted into a Roman pro-
vince, under the niiiiie of Aehaia (146 B.C.).

Thus terminates the fourth and last period of Greek
history, during which there flourished several eminent
writers and philosophers, among whom may be num-
bered Theocritus, a pastoral poet; Xenophon, Polybius,
Diodorus Siculus, Dionysius Halicamassui, Plutarch,
and Herodian, historians; Demosthenes, an orator;
and Plato, Aristotle, Z«no, and Epicurus, philosophers;
also Zeuxis, Timanthei, I'amphilus, Nicias, ApelUs,
and Eupompus, painters; and Praxiteles, Polyoletns,
Camnchus, Naucides, and Lysippus, sculptors.

In the condition of a humble dependency of Rome,
and therefore following the fate of that empire, Greece
remained for upwards of four succeeding centuries;
but although of little political importance, it still re-
tained its pre-eminence in learning. Enslaved as the
land was, it continued to be the great Khool of the time.
As Greece had formerly sent its knowledge and arts
over the East by the arms of one of her own kings, she
now diflVised them over the western world under tho
protection of Rome. Athens, which was the emporium
of Grecian learning an4 elegance, became the resort ot'
all who were ambitious of excelling either in knowledge
or the arts; statesmen went thither to improve them-
selves in eloquence; philosophers to learn the tenets
of the sages of Greece; and artists to study models of
excellence in building, statuary, or painting; natives of
Greece were also found in all parts of the world, gain-
ins an honourable sulisisteuce by the superior know-
ledge of their country. That country in the meantime
was less disturbed by intestine feuds than formerly, but
was not exempt from the usual fate of conquests, beinff
subject to the continual extprtions of governon and
lieutenants, who made the conquered provinces the
means of repairing fortunes which had been broken by
flattering the caprices of the populace at home.

The period ot the independence of Greece, during
which all those great deeds were performed which have
attracted the attention of the world, may be reckoned
from the era of the first Persian war to the oonquest
of Macedon, the last independent Greek state, by the
Romans. This period, as we have seen, embraced
little more than 300 years. It is not, therefore, from
the duration of the independent political power of
the Grecian states that their celebrity arises. Even
the patriotism of their soldiers, and the devoted heroism
of Thermopylse and Marathon, have been emulated
elsewhere without attracting much regard ; and we
must therefore conclude that it is chiefly from the supe-
riority of its poets, philosophen, historians, and artists,
that the importance of the country in the eyes of
modem men arises. The political squabbles of the
Athenians are forgotten; but the moral and intel-
lectual researches of their philosophers, and the elegant
remains of their artists, pcasesa an undying fame.

HISTORY OF ROME.

About th« jMr 7<'>4 u.c., at that point of Central Italy,
nearly fiftMU milei from the Tuican Sea, where the
Anio joint the Tiber, there stood on a height, called
the Palntine Mount, a little villaf|[o named Boma, the
centre of a imall townihip, consiitme probably of 5000
or 6000 inhabitants, all of them husbandmen and
shepherds. This Rome was one of the border town-
ships of Latium, a territory of fertile and undulating
table-land extending from the Tiber to the Liris, and
from the sea-coast to the hills of the interior. The whole
surface of Latium was under diligent cultivation, and
was covered with villages similar to Rome, which to-
gether constituted what was called the Latbi nation.

EABLY INUABITANTS OP ITALY — THE LATINS— PRIMITIVE
ROHAN SOCIETY.

The population of Latium consisted of a mixture of
Oicans, who are supposed to have been the aboriginal
inhabitants of this as of other parts of Italy, with
Pelasgians, an invading race, who, obeying the ten-
dency of the human species in early times to move
westward, had poured themselves out of Asia into the
south-eastern parts of Europe, and after filling Oreece,
had sought settlements on the Italian coasts. The
language of the Latins, accordingly, was a compound
of Pclasgic (which was also the radical element of the
Greek) with Oscan, the aboriginal tonguo of the dis-
trict, and which still lingered among the mountaineers
of the Apennines. It was a tradition among the
Latins themselves, that thnir nation had been founded,
or at least re-organised, by ^neas, one of the mythic
heroes of thq 'Iliad,* who, on the destruction of his
native city Troy, had sought refuge in Italy. The pro-
geny of this hero, it was believed, still reigned over
Alba I^iwa, the chief of all the Latin cities, and the
capital of the nation. The general affairs of the com-
munity were administered by a confederacy of thirty of
the principal townships. As regarded its own special
government, however, each township, powerful enough
to resist encroachment, was independent. The govern-
ment in all these petty states or townships, Rome
among the rest, was of the primitive heroic model : a
king or chieftain, of high lineage, presided over the
community, governing by divine right, but in accord-
ance with certain time-hallowed customs, one of which
was, that of awembling the people for consultation on
No. 67.

great emergencies. Rocial order within the limits of
each little state was furth - tecurod by the natural
arrangement into families— (ho authority of the head
of a family in primitive society amounting even to the
power of llfo and death over all members of that
family. Resides the division Into families, however,
there existed In the ancloiit states of Italy and (Jreece
anotlier natural division, of a kind of which we hav*
no exact type in modem times— that into Omtei, or, as
it may with some license be translated, II<mtei. The
gens, or house, was an association of families — ten,
twelve, or twenty families to a gens : the connecting
ties being descent from a common ancestor, or at least
belief in such a descant; the obllKation at stated timts
to perform certain sacrificos and roligiuuit rites in com-
mon; and certain legal advuntagcs which the associa-
tion procured for its members — such as the right of the
gons to succeed to the property of any of its members
who might die intestate, and without direct heirs.
Each gens had its head or chief; and the heads or
chiefs of the gontes In any community constituted a
sort of natural senate, or assembly of aged and expe-
rienced {Mtrsons, whom the kii>g could consult as an in-
termediate body between himself and the entire Popu-
Itu, or People. Thus in Rome, the constitution of
which, about the year d. c. 754, sooms to have attabeJ
a pretty fixed shape, the heads of the hundred gentes
into which, according to the traditional system of round
numbers, the little community was divided, constituted
a senate or assembly of ciders, acting as advisers of the
king, and generally as the chief men of the state.
Honest gray-haired old farmers we may suppose these
primitive Roman senators to have been, with firm faith,
nevertheless, that in their veins flowed the blood of
heroes and demigods of the olden time, the duty of
remembering whom formed part of their household
religion. The gens of the Fabii, for instance, traced
themselves up to an imaginary hero, named Fnbius;
the gens of thoNautii to on imaginary Nautius, strong-
limbed, and nowerfui in battle.

Rome, we have said, was a frontier township of La-
tium. It was situated precisely at that point where
iho territories of Latium adjoined thusc of two other
nations — of the Sabines, a hardy Oscan i»<'o of shep-
herds inhabiting the angular district betweuu the Anio
and the Tiber ; and of the Etruscans, a remarkable
people, of unknown but probably Oriental origin, who
had arrived in the north of Italy some centuries later
than the Pelasgians, and conquering all before thsm,
whether Pelasgians or Oscans, by the force of superior
civilisation, had settled chiefly in the region between
the Amus and the Tiber, corresponding to modern
Tuscany. Between these three races — Oacans, Pelas-
gians, and Etruscans — either apart, or in various com-
binations, all Italy, with the exception perhaps of some
portions near the Alps, wss divided: tne Oscans pre-
dominating in the interior; the Pelasgians, or rather
Pelasgo-Oscans, along the coasts, as in Latium ; and
the Etruscans in the parts above-mentioned. While
the Italian peninsula was thus occupied but b^ three
great races or main stocks; the political divisions or
nations into which it was parcelled out were so nume-
rous, however, that it would be scarcely possible to
give a complete list of them.

Situated so near to the Sabine and Etruscan fron-
tiers, an intercourse, sometimes friendly and sometimes
hostile, must naturally have been carried on between
the Latins of Rome and the Sabines and Etruscans,
with whom they were in contact. A chain of events,
which history cannot now trace, but which is indicated
in a poetic manner by a number of early Roman le-
gends, led to th9 incorporation of Rome with two neigh-

•*7

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOB TE[E PEOPLE.

bouring towns— one of them a waall dependency of the
Etruscans, situated on the Cselian Hill, and probably
named Lucerum; another a Sabine Tillage on the
Quirinal Hill, called Quirium. The Etruscans, or
Etrusco-Latins as they seem rather to have been, of
Lucerum were received on a subordmate footing; the
Sabines of Quirium on one of equality; but the joint
city continued to bear its old name of Roma. The
population of this new Rome consisted, therefore, of
three tribes the ancient Romans, who called them-
selves Bamneii the Sabines of Quirium, who called
themselves TUiu; and tho Etrusco-Latins of Lucerum,
who were named Luoere*.

OBIOINAL ROMAN CONSTITUTION — EARLY BISTORT UNDER
THE KINOa — ORIGIN OF THE PLEBEIANS.

With the enlargement of the population of Rome by
the addition of these new masses of citizens, a change
of the constitution became of course necessary. The
following seems to have been the form ultimately as-
sumed:-— Governed by a common sovereign, eligible by
the whole community from one of the superior tribes —
the Ramnea and the Titles — the three tribes intrusted
the conduct of tL°ir affairs to a senate composed of 200
members, 100 of whom represented the gente?. of the
Ramnes, and 100 the gentes of the Titles. The Luceres,
as an inferior tribe, were not represented in the senate;
and their political influence was limited to the right to
vote with the other two tribes in the general assemblies
of the whole people. In these general assemblies, or
Comitia, as they were called, the people voted; not in-
dividually, nor in families, nor in gentes, but in divi-
sionb called Curia or Curies; the Curia being the tenth
part of a tribe, and including, according to the ancient
system of round numbers, ten gentes. Thus the entire
Populus Romanus, or Roman people, of this primitive
time consisted of thirty curies — ten curies of Ramnes,
ten of Titles, and ten of Luceres: the ten curies of each
tribe corresponding to 100 gentes, and the thirty curies
together making up 300 gentes. As the Luceres were
an inferior tribe, their gentes were called Gentet Mi-
nora, or Lesser Houses; while those of the Ramnes
and Titles were called Gentes Majorea, or Greater
Houses. The assembly of the whole people was called
the Comitia Curiata, or Meeting of Curies. After a
measure had been matured by the king and senate, it
was submitted to the whole people in their curies, who
might accept or reject, but could not alter, what was
thus proposed to them. An appeal was also open to
the curies against any sentence of the king, or of the
judges nominated by him in his capacity of supreme
justiciary. The king, moreover, was the high priest of
the nation in peace, as well as the commander-in-chief
during war. The 300 gentes furnished each a horse-
man, so as to constitute a body of cavalry; the mass of
the people forming the infantry. The right of assem-
bling the senate lay with the king, who usually con-
vened it three times a month.

Such was ancient Rome, as it appears to the historic
eye endeavouring to penetrate the mists of the past,
where at first all seems vague and wavering. The in-
quirer to whom we owe the power to conceive the con-
dition of ancient Rome, so far as that depended on po-
litical institutions, was the celebrated German historian
Niebuhr. Not so, however, did the Romans conceive
their own early history. In all ancient communities,
it was a habit of the popular imagination, nay, it was
part of the popular religion, to trace the fortunes of
the community to some divine or semi-divine founder;
whose exploits, as well as those of his heroic successors,
foi'med the subject of numerous sacred legends and bal-
lads. Now, it was part of the Roman faith that their
city had been founded at a point of time corresponding
with B.C. 7.54, by twin brothers of miraculous birth,
called Romulus and Remus, whose father was the war
god Mars, and their mother a vestal virgin of the line
of the Alban kings, the progeny of the great ^neas.
Romulus, according to this legend, surviving his brother
Remus, became the king of the village of shepherds

which he had founded on the Palatine; and it was in
his reign that those events took place whish terminated
in the establishment of the triple community of the
Ramnes, Titles, and Luceres. Setting out with Romu-
lus, the Romans traced the history of their state through
a series of legends relating to six kings, his successors,
whose characters, and the lengths of their reigns, are
all duly determined. Of this traditionary succession of
seven kings, extending over a period of 245 years (n. c.
754-509), history can recognise with certaintj^ the exist-
ence of only the two or three latest. It is possible,
however, to elicit out of the legends a glimmering of
the actual history of the Roman state during these
imaginary reigns.

Possessed, as all our information respecting the Ro-
mans in later times justifies us in supposing, of an
unusual degree of that warlike instinct which was so
rampant among the early tenants of our globe, the
shepherd farmers of Rome were incessantly engaged in
raids on their Latin, Etruscan, and Sabine neighbours.
Strong-bodied, valiant, and persevering, as we also
know them to have been, they were, on uie whole, suc-
cessful in these raids; and the consequence was, a gra-
dual extension of their territonr, particularly on the
Latin side, by the conquest of those who were weaker
than themselves. After each conquest, their custom
was to deprive the conquered community of a part of
their lands, and also of their political independence,
annexing them as subjects to the Populus Romanus.
The consequence was a cradual accumulation round
the original Populus, with its 300 Houses, of a subject-
population, free-bom, and possessing property, but
without political influence. This subject-population,
the origin of which is dated by the legends from the
reign of Ancus Martins, the fourth king from Romulus,
received the name of the Pldis, a word which we trans-
late ' common people,' but which it would be more
correct, in reference to these very ancient times, to
translate * conquered people.' Besides the plebs, the
Roman community received another ingredient in the
persons called Clients ; strangers, that is, most of them
professing mechanical occupations, who, arriving in
Rome, and not belonging to a gens, were obliged, in
order to secure themselves against molestation, to at-
tach themselves to some powerful citizen willing to
protect them, and called by them Patronut, or Patron.
About six centuries before Christ, therefore, the popu-
lation of the growing township of Roma may be con-
sidered as having consisted of four classes — Isl, The
populus, or patricians, a governing class, consisting of
a limited number of powerful families, holding them-
selves aloof from the rest of the community, not inter-
marrying with them, and gradually diminishing in
consequence; 2rf, The plebs, or plebeians, a large and
continually-increaeing subject-population, of the same
mixed Etrusco-Sabinc-Latin blood as the populus, but
domineered over by them by right of conquest ; 3d, The
clients, a considerable class, chiefly occupied in handi-
craft professions in the town, while the populus and
the plebs confined themselves to the more honourable
occupation, as it was then esteemed, of agriculture; and
4lh, The slaves, or lervi, whether belonging to patri-
cians, plebeians, or clients — a class who were valued
along with the cattle.

The increasing numbers of the plebs, the result of
fresh wars, and the value of their services to the com-
munity, entitled them to possess, and emboldened them
to claim, some political consideration. Accordingly,
in the reign of Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth of the
legendary kings, and in whose reputed Etruscan lineage
historians fancy that they can discern a time when
Etruscan influence, if not Etruscan arms, reigned para-
mount in Rome, a modification of the original consti-
tution took place. A number of the richest plebeian
families were drafted into the populus, to supply the
blanks caused by the dying out of many of the ancient
gentes of the Ramnes, Titles, and Luceres; and at the
same time the number of senators was increased to 300,
by the admission of the Luceres to the same rights as

fflSTORT OF HOME.

the other two tribes. Even this modification vm in-
safficient; aud in order to do justice to the claimi of
the plebs, Serriui Tullius, the Buccessor of Tarqainius,
and who ii gratefully celebrated in Roman history ai
' the King of the Commons,' proposed and effected an
entire renovation of the political system of the state.
His first reform consisted in giving the plebs a regular
internal organisation for its own purposes, bj diriding
it into thirty tribes or parishes — four for the town, and
twentj-six for the country — each provided with an
officer or tribe-conTener called the Tribune, as well as
with a detailed machinery of local goTcmment; and
all permitted to assemble in a general meeting called
the Comitia Tributa, to discuss matters purely affecting
the plebs. But this was not all. To admit the plebs
to a share in the general legislative power of the com-
munity, he instituted a third legislative body, called
the Comilia Cenluriala, in addition to the two — the
senate and the comitia curiata — already existing. The
comitia centuriata was an assembly of the whole free
population of the Roman territory — patricians, ple-
beians, and clients — arranged, according to the amount
of their taxable property, in five classes, which again
were subdivided into 195 bodies, called Centuries, each
century possessing a vote, but the centuries of the rich
being much smaller than those of the poor, so aa to
secure a preponderance to wealth. The powers of the
comitia centuriata were similar to those of the comitia
curiata under the former system. They had the right
to elect supreme magistrates, and to accept or reject a
measure referred to them by the king and senate. The
comitia curiata, however, still continued to be held;
and a measure, even after it had passed the comitia
centuriata, had still to be approved by the curies
ere it could become a law. Notwithstanding this re-
striction, the constitution of Servius Tullius was a
great concession to the popular spirit, as it virtually
admitted every free individual within the Roman terri-
tory to a share in the government.

An attempt on the part of Tarquinius Superbus, the
Buccessor of Servius Tullias, to undo the reforms of his
predecessor, and to establish what the ancients called
a tyranny, or a government of individual will, led to
the expulsion of him and his family, and to the aboli-
tion of the kingly form of government at Rome, B. c.
509, or in the year of the city 245. Instead of a king,
two annual magistrates called Consuls were appointed,
in whom were vested all the kingly functions, with the
exception of the pontifical, for which special function-
aries were created! Otherwise, the Servian constitution
remained in full operation.

THE COMMONWEALTH TO THE OACLISH INVASION — STRUOOLE
BETWEEN THE PATRICIANS AND PLEBEIANS.

After the expulsion of the kings, the little republic
had to struggle through many difficulties arising from
the attacks of the neighbouring nations, incited thereto
by the Tarqninii. Ten of the twenty-six rural parishes
were torn away in the contest — a loss equivalent to a
full third part of the Roman territory. It would have
required a prophetic eye to foresee that, of all the
states into which Italy was then divided, this little
struggling republic was to obtain the pre-eminence.
One would have been disposed to promise the supre-
macy of the peninsula rather to the cultured and large-
brained Etruscans, already masters of the north of
Italy; to the hardy and valiant Samnites, who were
fast overspreading the southern interior; or, most pro-
bably of all, to the Greeks, who, after adding Sicily to
the empire of their gifted race, were rapidly establish-
ing colonies on the southern coasts of the peninsula.
Nay, clustered round the Roman territories there were
various petty states, any one of which might have ap-
peared a match for Rome — the Latins, the ^quians,
the Volscians, the Hernicans, the Sabines, and the
Etruscans of Veil on ihe right bank of the Tiber.
Who could have predicted that, bursting this cincture
of nations, the men of the Tiber would overspread the
peninsula, and, by the leavening influence of their

character and institutions, throw first it, and then all
Europe, into fermentation)

It required a period of 119 years (b. c. 609'-390) to
enable the Romans to burst the chain of pettv nations
— Latins, Volscians, Vejentes, &c. — which girdled in
their strength. This was a period of almost incessant
warfare; the last glorious act of which was the siege
and capture of Veil by the hero Camillus, B.C. 395, or
in the year of the city 369. By this capture part of
Etruria was added to the Roman dominions, and the
influence of the state considerably extended on all
sides. This conquest, as well as the career of victory
against .^quians, Volscians, &c. which had preceded
it, was greatly facilitated by a confederacy, offensive
and defensive, which had subsisted between the Romans
and the adjacent nations of the Latins and the Hemi-
cans from the year of the city 268, the twenty-third
year after the expulsion of the kings, when it had been
established by the instrumentality of an able patrician
named Spurius Cassius, who was three times, in cases
of difficulty, elected to the consulship. This confede-
racy with two powerful nations had insured the stabi-
lity of the infant republic against all assaults.

The second consulship of Spnrius Cassius (year of
Rome 261, or b.c. 493) had also been remarkable as
the epoch of a formidable civic tumult — the first of
that long series of struggles between the patricians and
the plebeians which constitutes the most interesting
portion of the annals of the early Commonwealth.
Not long after the expulsion of the kings, the patrician
gentes had begun to show a disposition to tamper
with the Servian constitution, or at least to prevent
the plebs from obtaining more power than they already
possessed. The principal instrument by which they
were able to cripple the energies of the plebs was the
operation of the law of debt. In primitive Rome, as
in other ancient states, an insolvent debtor was liable
to be seized by his creditor, and kept in chains, or made
to work as his slave. Now, such had been the distress
of the first years of the republic, that multitudes of the
plebeians, deprived, by the casualties of war, of their
little properties, had been obliged, in order to preserve
the lives of their families, to become debtors to the
patricians, the exclusive proprietors of the state lands.
Hundreds had, in consequence, fallen into a condition
of slavery; and many more, fearing to offend their
patrician creditors by opposing their designs, had be-
come mere ciphers in the comitia centuriata. In short,
the plebs, as a body, was disintegrated and disheartened.
Some instances of oppression, more flagrant than ordi-
nary, led to an outbreak, and a clamour for the aboli-
tion of all existing debts; and to enforce their demands,
the plebeians adopted a method of agiiation which seems
singular enough to our modem conceptions : they, or
at least such of them as were in arms for military ser-
vice, retired in a mass from the city at a time when it
was threatened with invasion, and encamped on a hill
near, declaring they would st; rve sooner than live in
such a place as Rome was. The government was thus
reduced to a dead lock ; Spurius Cassius was chosen
consul by the patricians ; and by his instrumentality
an arrangement was come to, by which the demands of
the commons were conceded, existing debts abolished,
a treaty of mutual obligation for the future agreed to
between the populus and the plebs as between two in-
dependent communities, and a new office instituted,
under the title of the Tribuneship of the Common People,
for the express purpose of protecting the interests of
the plebs. The commons then returned to the city;
two tribunes of the people were appointed; and their
number was subsequently increased first to five, and
afterwards to ten. No one could have foreseen how
important this office would become.

Not content with alleviating the temporary distresses

of the plebeians, Spnrius Cassius wished permanently

to ameliorate their condition ; and accordingly, in his

third consulship, in the year of the city 268, or B.C.

1 486, he boldly proposed and carried what was called an

I A<f)'ar%an Law. It is absolutely necessary that the

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION POR THE PEOPLE.

wader of Roman hiitory ghould undewtand this term.
According to the ewly Roman conatitution, the lands
acquired in war became the property of the whole
populua, or body of patricians, in common. Portions
of the conquered lands might be purchased from the
state by rich persons; and in such cases the purchaser,
whether patrician or plebeian, became absolute owner.
Usually, however, the lands were not sold, but were
annexed to the unallotted property already belongmg
to the populus. With regard to this state land, a very
curious system prevailed. Any patrician (but none
else) was allowed to occupy and cultivate as much of
it as he chose, on condition of paying to the state a
tithe of the annual produce if it were arable land, and
a fifth if it were laid out in olivcyards or vineyards.
The laud thus occupied did not, by right of possession,
become the property of the individual: he was liable
to be turned out of it at the pleasure of the state — his
landlord; and it was entirely at his own risk that he
laid out capital in improving it. As, however, it rarely
happened that an individual was ejected from land
which he had thus occupied, large tracts of the state
land were speedily occupied by enterprising patricians.
Such being the plan of distribution, it is evident that
in the state Iand&, occupied and unoccupied, the go-
vernment possessed a constant fund upon which they
could draw in cases of emergency. By selling portions
of it, they could raise money; and by assigning por-
tions of it to indigent families, they could permanently
provide for them. Several times, it appears, this had
been done in the case of indigent plebeian families;
and the agrarian law of Spurius Cassius was simply a
proposal that — a large accession to the state lands
having just taken place — the government should seize
the opportunity to provide for the distressed plebeians,
by apportioning them small portions of these state
lands. To the plebeians this proposal was exceedingly
agreeable; not so, however, to the patricians, who pos-
sessed the right of occupying and farming as much of
the public territory as they chose, but who lost that
right from the moment that the land was apportioned
by the state. The patricians, accordingly, resisted the
proposal with all their might; and Spurius Cassius
having carried it notwithstanding, they caused him to
be impeached and put to death as soon as his consul-
ship had expired.

After this event, the patricians renewed their efforts
to suppress f he plebs, proceeding so far as to transfer
the nght of electing the consuls from the centuries to
the purely patrician body of the curies. The plebeians,
however, behaved resolutely, asserting their rights
through their tribunes, and by clamours in the coniitia
tributa, where noue but plebeians hod a right to take a
part. In the yeor of the city 271, or B.C. 483, they
regained the power of choosing one of the consuls; and
in the year 203, or d. c. 471, they wrung from the
patricians tho right of electing their tribunes in their
own comitia tributa, instead of the centuries, at the
same time obtaiuing the right to discuss in the comitia
tributa affairs affecting the whole Common' "'alth.
Other concessions followed ; and at length, in the
year 292, or u. c. 462, a tribune named Caius Teren-
tilius Harsa was so bold as to propose a complete
revision of the constitution in all its parts. It was
not desirable, he said, that the old distinction between
populus and plebs, which had originated in war, should
DO longer kept up ; let, therefore, a revision of the
whole body of^ the laws bo undertaken, with a view to
put tho plebeians on a legal equality with the patri-
cians, and let some more limited form of supreme
magistracy be substituted for the consulship. After a
protracted opposition, this proposal resulted, in the
year 303, orB.c. 452, in the appointment of the famous
First Decemvirate ; a board of ten patricians, who were
to revise the entire body of tlie laws, as well as the
political machinery of the state, superseding in the
meantime all other authority. The digest of Roman
law nreparcd by these decemvirs became the foundation
of all subsequent jurisprudence among the Romans:
100

the amendments which they effected on the old lawi
were favourable to the plebeians. The principal con-
stitutional changes which they carried out were the
incorporation of patricians and clients with the ple-
beian tribes; the investment of the centuries with the
powers of an ultimate court of appeal ; and the substi-
tution of the decemviral office, of which they them-
selves were on example, for the consulship, five of the
decemvirs to be plebeians. This last change, however,
was of short duration ; for the second dccemvirate was
brought to an end by its own depravity. Compelled,
by a new secession of tho commons, to abdicate, the
decemvirs of 305 were succeeded by two popular con-
suls, under whose auspices several important privileges
were obtained for the plebeians, the most important of
which was a law conferring on a plebiseitutn, or resolu-
tion of the tribes, the right to become law on receiving
the sanction of the patricians, thus enabling the whole
people to originate measures as well as the senate.
In 310, the plebeians mustered courage to demand that
one of the consuls should thenceforward be chosen from
their order. To divert them from this, the patricians
yielded to another demand — the repeal of the law
prohibiting intermarriage between the two orders. The
plebeians, however, stUl persisting in their demand
regarding the consulship, the patricians, in 311, offered
a compromise, which consisted in breaking down the
supreme authority, hitherto concentrated in the consul-
ship, into three offices — the Censorship, the Qua;stor-
ship, and the Military Tribunate — with consular powers.
The censors were to be two in number, chosen for a
period of five years, by the curies from among the patri-
cians, subject to the approval of the centuries. The
ostensible duty of the censors was the administration
of the public revenues; but as they were intrusted with
the tasE of determining the rank of every citizen, and
of rating his taxable property, their power was, in
reality, enormous. To watch over the moral conduct
of the citiMns, and to degrade such senators or knights
as disgraced their order, were parts of their understood
duty. The quaitors, two in number, were to keep the
public accounts; they were likewise to be patricians,
but were to be chosen by the centuries. Regarding
the third office, the military tribunate, the plebeians
were to have the option of this office, consisting of an
indefinite number of persons of somewhat less dignity
thau the consuls, but to be chosen by the centuries
from either order indiscriminately, or of consuls to be
chosen, as before, from among the patricians only.

This compromise having been accepted, the period
from 311 to 350 was one of incessant agitation on tho
part of the plebeians, of incessant opposition on the
part of the patricians, of incessant shifting between tho
consulship and the military tribunate, according as the
patricians or the plebeians were the stronger. On the
whole, however, the plebeians gained ground. In 321,
the active authority of the censors was limited to
eighteen months out of the five years for which they
were appointed. In 328, the tribes obtained the right
of deliberating on questions of peace and war. In 334,
the number of the quaestors was increased to four, to
be chosen indiscriminately from either order. Lastly,
in 350, or u.c. 404, the system of payment for military
service became common. During these forty years tlic
patricians had frequently had recourse to the expe-
dient of appointing a Dictator, or supreme magistrate,
with unlimited authority for six months. Such an ap-
pointment almost always proved a temporary check to
the political advancement of the plebeians. In cases
of difficulty also, arising from external danger, it was
usual to appoint some able man dictator; and it was
at such a juncture, in the year 359, that, determined
to bring the siege of Veil to a close, the Romans ap-
pointed Camillus to this high office.

The siege of Veil having terminated so successfully,
the Romans were prepared to resume their career of
conquest without, and their political agitations within,
when both the one and the other received a check from
an ^ncJ[pected quarter. Some cause, now unknown,

itlStOBt OF BOMti.

hid thrown the Gaula, or Celtic populations inhabiting
tho western portion of Central Europe, Into commotion;
and bursting from their native hn<' .>!. a mass of
these sa/ages crossed the Alps ir>. ;' <<- plunder and

settlements, established a permau< -i,bode in the
country adjacent to the Po, and pi< i'.. 1 their destruc-
tive way through almost the whole length of the penin-
sula. Rome suffered more severely than any other
city. For several months (364-5, or B.C. 390-09) it
was in the possession of the savages — its rightful inha-
bitants, routed in battle, having dispersed themselves
for safety through the surrounding country. At length,
however, the Gauls were bribed to return to their homes
in the north, leaving Rome in ruins.

ORADUAI. CON(inEST OF THE PENINSULA — ITALY UNDER
THE ROHAN RULE.

The invasion of the Gauls is a great notch in the
line of the Roman annals. From this epoch to the
time of the complete subjugation of the peninsula by
the Romans (365-490, or b.c. 389-264) is a period of
125 years. Of this period, the first fifty years were
spent in repairing the shattered Commonwealth. Her
strength having been fairly renewed, the republic shook
off all impediments, announced to Latins and Hemi-
cans that she required their co-operation no longer, and
boldly declared her resolution to conquer centr^ Italy.
The series of wars against Etruscans, Latins, Hemicans,
Oauls, Volscians, and Samnites, sometimes singly, and
sometimes in combination, by which she carried her
resolution into effect, is usually known in Roman
history by the general designation of 'the Samnite
Wars' (412-463), the Samnites being the leaders ia
this onset of the nations on Rome, the issue of which
was to determine whether Rome or Samnium should
govern Italy. Extricating herself by her valour from
this confused conflict of nations, Rome, about the year
463, found herself mistress of Central Italy — Samnites,
Latins, &c. all her subjects. A consequence of the
conduct of the Latins and Hemicans during these Sam-
nite wars was, that the famous triple confederacy be-
tween these two nations and the Romans was brought
to an end precisely when it had fully served its pur-
pose, and when its longer continuance would ha^e im-
peded the growth in Italy of that Roman unity which
it had fostered. ' The Samnite Wars ' were succeeded
by a short but brisk war, designated in Roman history
* the War with Pyrrhus and the Greeks in Italy.'
Pyrrhus was an able and enterprising Greek prince,
whom the Greek towns of southern Italy — fearful of
being overwhelmed by the conquering barbarians, as
they called them, of the Tiber, before whom even the
Samnites had given way — had invited over from his
native kingdom of Epirus, that he might place himself
at the head of a confederacy which they were forming
against Rome. Full of enmity towards their con-
querors, all the recently-subdued nations of Central and
Northern Italy welcomed the arrival of Pyrrhus; and
all southern Italy followed his standard. His enter-
prise, however, failed, notwithstanding several victories;
and about the year b.c. 275, Pyrrhus having withdrawn
from Italy, the confederacy against the Roman Com-
monwealth crumbled to pieces, and the whole penin-
sula lay at their mercy. Before describing the manner
in which the peninsula, thus acquired, was laid out
and governed by the Romans, it will be necessary to
continue our narrative of the gradual development of
the constitution within, during the period which had
elapsed since the Gaulish invasion.

The situation of Rome after tho Gaulish invasion
was extremely similar to what it had been after the
expulsion of the kings — the plebeians distressed, and
many of them in slavery for debt, and the patricians
disposed to tyrannise. As on the former occasion there
had risen up, as the best friend of the plebs, the noble
patrician Spurius Cassius, so on this occasion there
appeared as their champion a prudent and brave ple-
beian, Caius Licinius Stole, a tribune of the people.
His measures were very similar to those of Spurius

Cassius — namely, a compromise on the luhjeot of debts
(not, however, an abolition of them) ; and an agrarian
law, prohibiting any citizen from occupying more than
five hundred jugera (about 330 acres) of the public land,
and deprivine all who exceeded that (quantity of the
surplus for distribution among the indigent commons.
To these he added a proposal for constitutional reform —
namely, that the military tribunate should be abolished,
and that tho consulship should be reverted to, one of
the consuls to be of necessity a plebeian. After a hard
struggle, these important measures were carried in the
^ear of the city 384, nineteen years after the Gaulish
invasion. Under these Licinian Laws, as they were
called, the state enjoyed tolerable repose for a long
period of years — the principal source of disturbance
being the attempts of the wealthy citizens to evade the
operation of the agrarian law. The next great move-
ment was in the year of the city 416, when, under the
auspices of a plebeian dictator (for the dictatorship
had also been thrown open to the plebeians), a con-
siderable simplification of the constitution was effected.
It was now rendered essential that one of the censors
should be a plebeian ; and the old patrician body of the
curies was struck out of the machinery of the legisla-
ture, so as to leave the business of the state in the
hands of the senate (itself become partly a plebeian
body) and the people. Met in their centuries, the
people could only accept or reject the measures pro-
posed by the senate; but met in their tribes, they could
originate a measure, and oblige the senate to consider
it. Thus sometimes in the shape of a matured scheme
descending from the senate to the people, sonietimes in
the shape of a popular resolution sent up to the senate,
a measure became law. From this simplification of
the constitution commences, according to historians,
the golden age of Roman politics. The extension of
dominion in the Samnite wars, by providing a large
subject - population inferior both to patricians and
plebeians, disposed these bodies to forget their diffe-
rences, and to fall back upon their common conscious-
ness of Roman citizenship. During the Samnite wars,
however, a third party appeared in the field claiming
political rights. These were the uSrarians, the name
applied to all those residents in town pursuing me-
chanical occupations, who, as not belongmg to any of
the tribes (now thirty-three in number), did not rank
as citizens. The claims of this class — the city rabble,
as both patricians and plebeians called it — were sup-
ported by a daring and able patrician, Appius Claudius,
who, during his censorship, admitted serarians into all
the tribes indiscriminately. Eventually, however, a
compromise was effected : the serarians were enrolled
in the four city tribes, thus obtaining some influence,
but not so much as Appius seemed to destine for them.
It appears to have been at some period also during
the Samnite wars that a modification took place in
the constitution of the comitia eenturiata the leading
feature of which seems to have been a blending of the
tribes with the centuries, so as to accommodate the as-
sembly to the altered state of society and the altered
scale of wealth. Of the precise nature of this change,
however, as of the precise time at which it occurred,
we are ignorant. It may be considered, nevertheless,
to have perfected the Roman constitution, and to have
adapted it for the function of maintaining the govern-
ment of the entire peninsula.

Italy, once fairly subjugated and laid out by the
Romans (b. c. 266), its population may be considered as
having been distributed into three political divisions
— the Populus Jiomamu, or citizens of Rome, properly
so called; the iSbctt, or inhabitants of the allied and
dependent Italian states; and the Nomen iMtinum, or
citizens of the ' Latin name.'

The first of these, the Populus Romonus, included the
whole body of the free inhabitants of the thirty-three
tribes or parishes north and south of the Tiber, which
constituted the Roman territory strictly so called, to-
gether with a considerable number of persons scattered
over the other parts of Italy, who were also accounted

101

OHAMBBBEPS VffOMIUVIOM fOU THE PBOHiS.

(itfiiM* (rttbnr Immmu* tiwr van eolcnitto of VMom
dMMsti or UokVM t>M tiuo had b«en oonfined on
tlMm M an hononir diatisotien. The total number
of adult Somwi ottiaana toward* the end of the
fifth oentuiT WM under S00.00O-ft imril proportion,
oTidentlT, of the tm* Italian inajii, wWch coniuted,
inolading the ikTea, of about 5,000,000. Nor were
all theee equal in p<^t of ciril rifhte, many of them
hayins the /widUM, aa it wai called, or legal rixhti
of oittaeni, without the t^ffraffe, or political nghti.
na dtixeni «dth luiBrage, those who voted on public
queitioni— the real gorexning power, therefore, hy
whole impuliei all Ital/, with ita milliona of inhabi-
tante, wae iwajed, aa the bodv ii moved by the beats of
the heart— were a mere handnil of men, such ai might
be uiembled with eaie in any public parlc or square.

The Italian wibjects were the inhabitants of the
allied or denendent states. The lift of these was a long
one, including, aa it did, the various communities
iHdch made up the populations of Etruria, Umbria, the
flabino territoiy, Samnium, Campania, Apulia, Lucania,
M jsaapia, and Bmttium. All the allies, however, were
n<yt eqmdly subject to Rome: the relatione in which
thejr (tood to it were determined by the particular
Ireatiea whidi formed the aeparate alliancea, and these,
of eonrae, varied according to the circumstances under
iriiidi they had been concluded. Almost all the allied
at at ea, however, were permitted to retain their own laws,
thtir own municipal arrangements, their o?ni judges, &c.
Throughout the peninsula, however, care was taken to
deatioy every vestige of nationality or a national legis-
lature amonc the allies of the same race. Upon the
whole, thia £ange £rom independence to aubjection to
Some waa beneficial to the Italian nations. Not the
least benefit attending it waa the total abolition of
thoaa wara between neighbouring atatea which, while
tlM peninaula waa aubdivided into small independent
teiritoriea, had raged incessantly and fiercely.

The Nomen Latinum, or Latin name, was a fictitious
designation ^plied to a number of colonies acattered
thnrngh the jpeninsula, and which, in respect of privi-
leges, stood m an intermediate position l>etween the
Roman dtiiena and the Italiaua. The name probably
originated in the circumstance, that the original colo-
nists of this deaeription were Latins.

It is a curious fact, tliat even after Rome had at-
tained tlte aupremacy of the peninaula, there did not
cziat such a tiling as even a dawning; Roman litera-
ture, although the state had now existed nearly five
hundred years ; so much earlier than their literary
Acuity did tlie native talent of the Romans for govern-
ing mankind develop itself. It waa by their niaggivo
character, more than by their powera of apeculation or
•xpreaaion, that they were to impress the world.

•aa PCHIC WARS — gCBJUOATIOH OF FOREIGN NATIONS—
ADMINISTRATION OF THE PROVINCES.

Masters of Italy, it waa not long before the Romans
found themselves in collision with the nations sur-
rounding the great basin of the Mediterranean ; and
as the uat 125 yeara of the existence of the Roman
(tate had been spent in the gradual conquest of the
Italic nations, so the next 130 years (r. n. 490-620, or
B. c, 264-134) were spent in a series of conquestE, by
which various foreign countries were reduced to the
oondition of mere provinces of Italy. This aeries of
conquests may be designated generally by the title
of ' the Punic Wars, and the Wars with tho Greek
States.' A bare enumeration of them, with a statement
of their results, is all that our limits will allow.

The first foreign people with which the Romans
came into collision were the Cartha^ians — a people
of Phoenician lineage, who, settling in that part of
Africa now called Tunis, and buildine a city there,
about a century before Rome was founded, had in the
interval become a great commercial nation, with ahips
•ailiu^ to all parte of the Mediterranean, and with
coloniea along the coaata of Algiera, in Sardinia and
Corsica, and even in Spain.- They had reoeotly gained

a footing in Sicily, and now shuad it with the Oreeki
of Svnwuaa; and it was on thia rieh iaUad aa a battle-
field that the Bomana firat came into oanfiict with
tho merchant peopU of Africa. Invited over by the
Mamertinea, a robber people who inhabited the north-
eaataxn comer of the iuand, the Roman aoldiera fought
the armiea of meroenariea hired bx the Carthagiuiana.
The war tbua begun, the * Firat Punic War,' aa it ia
called, laated twenty-three yeara (y.r. 490-518, or b.c.
264-241). During it the Romana firat leaned to build
ahipa of war, and to fight naval battles; anfd they were
soon able to defeat the Carthaginians on their own
element. On land they were sure of victory Against
mere mercenaries, collected, aa theae were, from all
nations, and commanded by Carthaginian generals of
ordinary capacity. In 249 b.c., however, the Cartha-
ginians sent over the great Hamilcar Barca to com-
mand their forces in Sicilv; and his efiTorts checked
the Romans, who, meanwhile, had invaded Africa, and
been repulsed. A victory or two, however, ^ined by
the Romans over other generals than Hamilcar, dis-
posed the Carthaginians for peace, who accor^gly
agreed (b.c, 241) to evacuate Sicily, and to pay the
victors a laree sum of monev. The Romans then
made themselves masters of Sicily; and shortly after-
trards they found a pretext for wresting Corsica and
Sardinia from the Carthaginians. For twenty-two yeara
after theae conquesta (b.c. 241-219) the Romana were
engaged in wara with the Ciaalpine Oauls and other
nations in the north of Italy, the effect of which waa
to extend their dominion to the foot of the Alps. Be-
yond the Alps, also, Illyria, a country skirting the east
coast of the Adriatic, waa at thia time annexed to the
dominions of the Commonwealth.

Meanwhile the Carthaginians had not been idle.
During several yeara they had, in accordance with the
advice of Hamilcar, been establishing their dominion
in Spain, intending to repay themselves with that fine
peninsula for the loss of Sicily and Sardinia. Killed
in battle by a native tribe, Hamilcar was succeeded in
Spain by his son-in-law Hasdrubal; and on his death,
which took place soon after, Huinibal Barca, the son
of Hamilcar, and then only twenty-six years of age,
waa appointed to the command. The siege by him of
Saguntum, an independent Spanish town, wnich had
claimed the assistance of the Romans, led to the Second
Punic War (b.c. 218-201). Little did the Romana
know what a war it was to be ! Crossing the Pyrenees,
the young Carthaginian general, the greatest military
commander probably, and certainly one of the ablest
men the world ever saw, pushed his way through the
Gallic tribes, and eflfecting the passage of the Alps,
descended into Italy with an army of 12,000 Africans,
8000 Spaniards, and 6000 Carthaginian horse. Rousing
the Cisalpine Gauls, and defeating in several successive
battles the Roman generals sent against him, he mode
his way into the south of Italy (b.c. 217); and having
in the following year inflicted on the Romans at CannsB
the greatest defeat they hod ever received, he remained
in Italy fifteen years (b.c. 217-202), moving hither
and thither, keeping seven or eight Roman generals,
and among them the wary Fabius and the bold Mar-
cellus, continually employed, scattering the Romans
like chaff wherever he appeared, exhausting the finances
of the state, and detaching the Italian nations from
their allegiance. Had he received reinforcements,
as he expected, from Spain, where he had left hia
brother Haadrubal in command, Rome might have
fallen. Fortunately, however, for the Romans, while
they were manfully opposing Hannibal in Italy, one of
their generals, the great Scipio, was busily engaged in
Spain. To prevent Spain from falling into Scipio'a
handa, Hasdrubal waa obliged to remain in it ; and it
waa not till B.C. 207, when all hope of retaining hia
footing in that peninaula waa lost, that he set out to
join his brother. He crossed the Alpb in safety, but
waa attacked, defeated, and alain on hia march through
Italy; and Hannibal was left to his own resources.
These, however, were exhaoitlssa ; and with the assist-

WmON Of BOIOL

tBM of iba Italian nationii w)io. MM0UU7 the unpri-
TiltgMl elauM, wtM friandlv to the Cutlia|riniMu, Mtd
JtatM Roma, he might itill Iiave ahfttttred the Com-
monwealth in ^ieoei, IumI not Soipio paied orer from
Spain into Africa, and defeating the Carthaf;iniana in
■ereral battlei, with the help of a Numidiaa prince
named Maiiniwa, compiled them to recall their
gieateat man for the defence of hia native city. In b.o.
S02. or the year of the city 562, Hannibal quitted Italy,
where he IumI apent the beet period of hia life. Not
long after his landing in Africa, he waa defeated by
Scipio at Zama, and nil countrymen were obliged in
Goniequenoe to agree to a peace on yery serere terms.

The Second Punic War concluded, and Italy once
more pacified, the Romans made war on Philip III.,
king of Macedonia, and rirtual ruler of all the Greek
states, who had offended them by entering into a treaty
with Hannibal. The war was protracted over seventeen

J ears (b. c. 2U-197), but ended in the reduction of
lacedonia, and the proclamation by the Romans of the
independence of the other Oreek states. Seized with a
desire to assume the place which the Micedonian king
had been unable to maintain, Antiochus the Great,
king of Syria, and representative therefore of the Oreek
empire in Asia, crossed into Greece, where he joined
the ^tolians against the Romans. Defeated, however,
in Greece, and forsakeu by the ^tolians, he was pur-
sued into Asia, and after the loss of a great battle at
Magnesia, (.bilged to submit to the Romans, who thus
became virtual masters of the various kingdoms and
states of Asia Minor (b. c. 188). Meanwhile they had
been engaged in suppressing various movements among
the Ligunans, Boians, Istrians, and other nations in
the north of Italy, as well as among the Spanish tribes
and the savages of Sardinia. A declaration of hosti-
lities by Perseus, the successor of Philip in Macedonia,
in conjunction with Genthius, king of Illyria, led to
another war acainst these countries, which terminated
in their complete subjugation (b. c. 168). |The next
twenty years were spent in securine these conquests,
and in establishing relations, virtually those of sove-
reignty, with various states of Asia Minor, such as
Bithynia and Rhodes; and with various others of
Africa, as Egypt and Numidia. The whole circuit of
the Mediterranean in their power, and their ships re-
spected in all its ports, as belonging to the ' sovereign
people of Italy,' the Romans at length executed their
long -cherished project, and pounced upon Carthage
(b. c. 149), whose existence, even in its fallen condition
of a mere commercial capital, they could not tolerate.
Hannibal had been dead more than thirty years; but
under such generals as they had, the wretched Cartha-
ginians offered a desperate resistance to the Roman
commanders. After a horrible siege, the city, contain-
ing a population of 700,000, was taken and sacked by
Scipio JEmilianus, the adopted son of the son of the
great Scipio (b. c. 146^. The houses were razed to the
ground, and the province of Africa was the prize of this
third * Punic War.' The fall of Greece was contem-
porary with that of Carthage. The Achuan League, a
confederacy of cities in Greece proper and the Pelopon-
nesus, showing a disposition to be independent of the
Romans, provoked their vengeance; and the destruction
of Corinth in the same year as that of Carthage extin-
guished the last sparks of liberty in Greece. The whole
of the Greek countries were parcelled out into Roman
provinces, and from that time Greeks l>ecame the slave
teachers of the Romans, their secretaries, their syco-
phants, their household wits. Yet out of Greece thus
ruined there afterwards arose many great spirits; for
no degradation, no series of misfortunes, could eradicate
the wondrous intellect which lurked in the fine Greek
organisation. The last scene in this long series of wars
was enacted in Spain, where, roused by a noble patriot
called Viriathus— the Wallace of that day — the native
tribes had revolted against the Romans. The fate of
Spain, however, was waled by the destruction of Nu-
mantia by Scipio .^Bmilianus (b. c. 133).
By the wars of 130 yean which we have thus enu-

merated, the following oountriei had beeonw mhJMl to
Rome: — Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and the smallsr
islands of the Meditenrnaaaii ; Macedonia i Illyrieiim,
with Thassaly and Epirus ; Greece, including Greece
proper and the Peloponnesus ; Spain ; and the whol«
northern coast of Africa. The Romans had likewise
established their influence in Asia. The conquered •
countries were divided into provinces, so that the de-
signation for the Roman dominion IxKiame * Italy and
the Provinces.' The provinces received each an 01-
(pmisation at the time of its formation, aocordhig to
jtM circumstances. Retaining their national habiti,
religion, laws, &o. the inhabitants of every province
were governed by a military president, sent from Rome,
with a staff of officials. Unlike the Italic nations, who
Aimished only subsidies of men to the sovereign stato,
the provincials were required to pay taxes in money and
kind; and these taxes were farmed out by the censors
— Roman citizens, who, under the name ot irublieatu,
settled in the various districts of the provinces, and
proved a great scourge by their avarice and rapacity.
To some towns and localities in the provinces, the
Italic franchise was extonded as a token of favour.
Altogether, the government of the provinces was one
which, although it led to beneficial results, in binding
together a large mass of the human race, and carrying
on various races and languages simultaneously in a
career of civilisation, yet gave ^at scope for oppres-
sion. Like a network proceedmg from a centre, the
political system of the Romans pervaded the mass of
millions of human beings inhabiting the shores of the
Meditorranean, holding them together by ito mechani-
cal tenacity, and slowly working than into union by
its own powers of impregnation, as well as by moans of
those ideas and moral agencies whose dissemination
and operation over large areae at once it so marvel-
lously facilitoted. What a caieer was thus opened up
for those who occupied the centre of this network — the
population of Rome I What a grand thing in those
days to be a Roman citizen ; so that, wherever one
wuked — in Spain, in Africa, or even in once great
Athens — one was followed, feasted, flattered to one's
face, and mocked behind one's back 1 What means of
money-making in the provinces for the avaricious Ro-
mans ! What opportunities for well-doing for the phi-
lanthropic I Alas 1 a philanthropic Roman was almost
a contradiction in terms. To be patriotic waa the
highest virtue ; and if a Roman, alone with his par
triotism, possessed a just ditposition, toose who were
under his government might consider themselves for-
tunate. Nor was the career of administration in the
provinces open to all Roman citizens. The following
passage, which we translate from a French work —
' Etudes sur I'Histoire Romaine, par Prosper Merimie;
Paris, 1844 ' — will give an idea of the maimer in which
a Roman citizen attained to public honours, and will
illustrate the general spirit of the Roman administra-
tion. ' The laws,' says this author, ' opened to all the
citizens the career of magistracy; but in realitv it was
shut against all but those whose fortune or family credit
placed in an exceptional situation. As all public offices
were obtained by the suffirages of the people, it was of
the utmost importance to make creatures ui every daas
of society. In order to muster all these on the great
day of election, there were no labours, fatigues, and
even meannesses to which Romans of illustrious families
did uot submit from their earliest boyhood. Some
offered the patronage of their families to embarrassed
pleaders; others opened their purse to poor artisans;
whoever had a vote in the comitia was flattered and
cajoled in every possible way. From the time that the
candidate had attained the a^ at which the law per-
mitted him to stand for the dignity of the queestorship
— that by which he must make his dibvA in public
life— he appeared in the Forum clothed in a white
robe, shook hands with all the country folks, and with
the lowest plebeians, solicited their votes, and often
purdiAsed them for money. The qusestor, once ap-
pointed, found the doon of the senate open for him,

108

OHAHBEBS'S HTPOBMATIOK VOB THE PEOFUL

Oidiauilr h« wm attaoliod to the pmon of » oonwil,
or ft niMutrate of wipwior nnJi. b«»ming his lieu-
tenwt; lonietimM he oMwned » little eoTommeiit for
himielf. In thete o«ce» he oould learn buiinMi h»biti,
»nd find ocoaiioni for dirtinguiihin^ himielf, and for
eauiina hie name to be mentioned olten «n the senate
or the Miembliee of the people. After the quawtorihip
came the CurttU EdiletK^, a purely civil m«jgiitracy,
\rhoie dutiet cowiited in watching the arriyal of pro-
Tiiioni, euarding public monumente, seeing to the em-
bellishment of the city, and finally, in preparing the
games and solemn shows. This charge entailed enor-
mous expense on those ediles who wished to make
themselves popular. They built temples and porticos
at their own cost, opened roads, constructed aque-
ducts; above all, they tried to surpass their prede-
cessors by the magnificence of the games which they
caused to be celebrated, and the truly colossal ex-
pense of which they in part sustained. A happy roan
was that edile who had been able to exhibit in tlic
arena the deaths of an unusual number of able gla-
diators, or who had presented to the people animals of
a rare species or unknown before. His name was in
every mouth, and all applauded his sprouting am-
bition. The edileship lasted a year. After it came
the prsstorship. There were six pristors — two presided
over the tribunals at Rome, the others governed pro-
vinces or commanded armies. Finally, after having
successively gone through the three previous stages,
one presented himself as a candidate for the consul-
ship. Intriguing, corruption, manoeuvring of all kinds
was now redoubled; for this was the goal of a Roman's
ambition. The consuls presided over the government
of the republic, or directed important wars in person.
At the expiry of their magistracy — that is, after a year
—they were sent to a province with the title of Procon-
suls; often to command military expeditions, almost
always to administer an extensive government. In
turn to amass and expend great wealth, was thus the
chief can of candidates for honours. The profits of the
queestoiahip enabled one to make a brilliant curule
edileship. Ruined by his extravagance, the edile re-
paired his fortune in the praetorsUp, and returned to
Rome rich enough to buy votes at the consular elec-
tion. Frequently he staked his all on this last elec-
tion, confident of more than making it up again in the
province which would be assigned him after his con-
sulship. In a word, the career of public employment
was a species of gambling, in which one's profits were
proportional to one's stakes.'

Such a state of things as is here described, implies
that an immense change had taken place in the cha-
racter of the Roman society during the rapid career
of foreign conquest which had elevated Rome from the
position of metropolis of Ital^ to that of metropolis of
the civilised world. The distinction between patrician
and plebeian was now scarcely heard of (in b.c. 172
both consuls had been plebeians for the first time); it
was superseded by that between illustrious and obscure;
rich and poor. Although, however, the system of cor-
ruption was so general, that scarcely any one could
attain to office except b^ unworthy means, yet there
were at that time, and in the midst of that system,
many men of really noble character. Among these
must not be forgotten the honest old censor Cato, the
enemy of Carthage, who kept up a constant protest all
his life against what he called the growing luxury of
his countrymen, and died declaring that they were a
degenerate race. Of equal integrity with Cato, al-
though of altogether a different form of character, were
the two brothers of world-famous name, whose actions
wo shall now brieily notice.

TnE nEVOLUTIONS OF THE OBACCIU.

* A fatal effect,' says M. M^riniie, ' of the Roman
dominatiob was the impoverishment and depopulation
of Italy. At Rome, where commerce and mdustry
were despised, only one way led to wealth — a career of
public service. On his return fr(>m his goverumeut, a

Roman official bought lands, built villai, and all at
once became a great proprietor. If he chuced to have
in his neighbourhood an estate to his taste, he caused
it to be ceded to him; sometimes he seized it iriiile
the lawful owner was fighting far away under the Ro-
man eagles. By degrees all tne small proprietors were
despoiled, in order to form vast estates for the privi-
leged class of public functionaries. Parks, ganlens,
and expensive fish-ponds took the place of cultivated
fields. Labourers disappeared, and the country was
peopled with slaves, dangerous bv their numbers, and
also by their robber habits, which they practised with
impunity. Some masters, it is said, shared the profits
of robbery with these wretches.'

The great social evils of the day — the extinction of
the old peasant proprietors of Italy; and the vast in-
crease of slaves, the danger of which had been already
manifested by several servile revolts in Sicily; and the
congregation in the towns, and especially in Rome, of
vast masses of population, not living as the artisans
and traders in modem towns do, by honest industry,
but living in noisy idleness upon the alms of the pro-
vinces and the sums they received for their votes —
these social evils must have struck many generous
hearts among the Romans. The man, however, on
whom they produced so decided an impression as to
lead him to devote his life to their removal, was Ti-
berius Sempronius Gracchus, the son of a plebeian of
rank who had attained distinction in the Spanish wars,
and of Cornelia, the daughter of the great Scipio.
Abandoning, in its first stage, the more tempting career
which led through the quiestorship, edileship, and
pnetorship to the consulship, Tiberius chose rather the
office of tribune of the people, which was more- suitable
for the purposes of political agitation. Elected to this
office B.C. 133, in the twenty-ninth year of his age, he
propounded his schemes of reform. His grand project
was a revival, with some modifications, of the famous
agrarian law of Licinius. which had long fallen into
tacit desuetude. All citizens who were in possession of
a larger extent of the state land than the 600 jugera
allowed by the Licinian law (unless in the case of fathers
of two sons, who were to be allowed 250 jugera in addition
for each of them), were to be deprived of the surplus;
the buildings, vine-presses, &c. which were erected on
these surplus lands to be purchased at a fair valuation;
and the whole land thus seized was to constitute a
stock out of which the pauper plebeians of the city
were to be furnished with little farms for the honest
support of themselves and families, these farms to be
incapable of alienation by the persons to whom they
should be allotted. Utterly revolutionary as this mea-
sure would seem in modem legislation, and sufficiently
sweeping as it was, even in a Roman point of view,
considering that, however unjustly the ancestors of
many of the large proprietors had come by their lands,
yet long possession and frequent transference had in
many coses sanctified the ownership — still the measure
was strictly in the spirit of Roman law, and one of the
supporters of Orvcchus in proposing it was the eminent
jurist Mucius Scfcvola. Tiberius and his associates
probably thought that the ends proposed— '(die removal
of the venal mob out of Rome, and the restoration
inltaly of a population of hard-working peasant pro-
prietors, instead of the gangs of bandit slaves — were
difficult enough to require, and glorious enough to
justify, somewhat revolutionary means. Accordingly,
advocating by his eloquence in the Forum the scheme
which he hod matured in private, he did not cease
until, in spite of the most obstinate resistance on the
part of the senators, who used as their instrament
against him one of his own colleagues in the tribune-
ship, he had gained his end. Three commissioners
wore appointed to superintend the execution of the
law — Tiberius himself, his father-in-law Appius Clau-
dius, and his younger brother Caius. Loud and deep
were the vows of vengeance on the part of the senators;
and Tiberius saw that his only chance of life lay iu
being re-elected to the tiibuucship, the dignity of which

JEnSTORt OP HOME.

WM an inTiolable protection. To prerent thii, the lena-
torial party niuittned all their strength; and a tumult
ensuing on one of the days of election, Tiberius, along
with about 300 of his followen, was killed.

For about ten years the excitement caused by the
]a\r of Gracchus continued, FuWius Flaccus and Fapi-
rius Carbo acting as his successors in the popular in-
terest, and carrying on the struggle against the nobles,
who raised up obstacles to the execution of the law.
But in the year b.c. 123, Caius Gracchus, who now felt
himself old enough to assume the career which his
brother had left hira as an inheritance, claimed and
obtained the tribuneship. Caius was a man of more
vehement character and more comprehensive views
than his brother, and the schemes which he proposed
embraced a great variety of points, besides a re-enact-
ment of his brother's agrarian law. In fact, a reformer
by reputation and education, he made it his business
to find out abuses, and either declaim i^ainst them or
propose remedies for them. Perhaps the most objec-
tionable of his measures was a law enacting a monthly
distribution of com among the city population at a
nominal price — a poor-law, for buch it may be called,
which had the effect of attracting all the paupers of
Italy to Rome. A more valuable measure was his
transference of the judicial power from the senators,
who had hitherto held it, and who had been guilty of
great corruption in the exercise of it, to the equitet, or
wealthy capitalists, intermediate between the senators
and the poorer classes of the community. He also
proposed and carried the establishment of various colo-
nies in different parts of the empire, which afforded
room for enterprise, thus relieving Rome of part of its
overgrown population. More fortunate so far than his
brother, he held the tribuneship for two years, and
thus had time for more extensive action. Deserted,
however, by the people at the end of the second year,
in consequence of the policy of his opponents, who
adopted the plan of outbidding him for popular favour,
he lost his office. The senators, having hira at their
mercy, spared no means of revenge; and Gracchus, and
his friend Fulvius Flaccus, having recourse to the
anued assistance of their supporters to preserve their
lives when they appeared in public, this was construed
into a design of sedition. The consul was empowered
to resort to force against them ; a terrible fray occurred
in one of the quarters of the town, 3000, it is said,
being slain; and Gracchus was killed while trying to
escape into the country (b. c. 121). He was then only
in the thirty-third year of his age.

The aristocracy thus triumphed for the time, and the
recent measures, of reform were suffered to fall into
disuse; but certain portions of the policy of the two
brothers had taken full effect, and the agitation which
they had originated was not lulled for many years.
The seeds of much that afterwards appeared in storm
and bloodshed were sown during these movements of
n. c. 133-121 ; and as long as the world takes an inte-
rest in Roman history, or respects disinterested political
courage, it will remember the Gracchi.

THE JUOURTHINE, CIMBRIC, AND SOCIAL WARS — HAKICS
AND SULLA.

In the year of the first tribuneship of Caius Gracchus,
the Balearic islands were added to the Roman domi-
nion; and six years afterwards (b.c. 117), Dalmatia
was reduced to a Roman province. About this time
the famous Jugurtha, the illegitimate son of one of the
sons of Masinissa, already mentioned as a king of
Numidia in the Roman interest, was left heir to that
kincdom, in conjunction with his two cousins, by
Micipsa, their father and his uncle. Aspiring to the
undivided sovereignty, he killed one of his cousins, and
drove the other to Rome. Interfering in behalf of the
expelled prince, the Romans compelled Jugurtha to
Hhare Numidia with him. By bribing the commis-
sioners, however, who were sent to effect the division,
Jugurtha obtained the best part for himself ; and not
long after (b,c. 112), he showed his contempt for the

Romans by inrading hil cottsin's dominion!, and pnU
ting him to death. Bribes and wily tactics protected
him for a while from the vengeance of the Romans ;
but at length, in the year a. c. 109, the brave consul
Metellus, who was proof against bribes, went over to
Numidia to conduct the war which his predeoesiort had
mismanaged. After he had carried on the war success-
fully for two years, he was supplanted by his second
in command, Caius Marius, a man of humble birth,
and nearly fifty years of age, who, although almost
without education, had raiswl himself to hi^ rank by
his military talents, and whose services under Metellus
had been so favourably represented at Rome, that he
was appointed consul (b.c. 107), with the express in>
teution that he should end the Jugurthine war. This
ho speedily accomplished, greatly assisted by his quses-
tor, a young man of high patrician familv and unusual
literary accomplishments, named Lucius Cornelius
Sulla. Jugurtha was sent to Rome, where he was
starved in prison (b. c. 106) ; and the services of Marius
were at the disposal of the Romans for a war of an in-
finitely more fonnidable character than that which had
been waged against this ill-fated African.

About the year B.C. 1 13, a numerous tribe of savages,
called Cimbn, but who were most probably Celts, had
been set in motion in the south-east of Europe; and
emigrating westward, they had communicated their
restlessness to the Teutones, an undoubtedly German
race, through whose territories they must have passed.
Roving about in <|uest of settlements, sometimes to-
gether, and sometimes separately, the two barbarian
hosts, consisting of men, women, and children, had
thrown all Gaul into consternation; and as the Romans
had already colonised the portion of Gaul contiguous
to the Alps, the duty of checking the savages devolved
on them, the more especially as there was some danger
that Italy would be invaded. But such a moving mass
of human beings, driven by that hardest of forces,
hunger, was not easily to be checked; and army after
army sent by the Romans to oppose them had been
shivered to pieces. All Italy began to tremble, and
there was a universal cry among the Romans, ' Make
Marius again consul.' Accordingly Marius was chosen
consul a second time in his absence (b.c. 104), that he
might drive back the Cimbri. Meanwhile the poor
homeless creatures had made a general rush towards
Spain ; and the Romans, to secure the services of Ma-
rius when they should be required, re-elected him to
the consulship in b. c. 103, and again in b. c. 102. In
the latter year, when Marius was consul for the fourth
time, the barbarians, repulsed from Spain, directed
their march towards the Alps. Fortunately, they
divided themselves into two masses — the Teutones
taking one route, the Cimbri another. The former,
amounting to about 300,000 men, were met by Marius,
and slaughtered, all except 90,000, who were made
prisoners, and sold as slaves. Meanwhile the Cimbri
had been making progress in their route, and to oppose
them, Marius was eiected to a fifth consulship (b.c.
101). Another bloody field, in which about 140,000
were slain, and 60,000 taken prisoners, delivered Italy
from its fears. Strange and affecting thought, that
half a million of human beings, men, women, and
children, should be wandering through Europe for
vears, poor outcasts, with their little carts and cooking-
kettles, and that a civilised nation should have been
compelled, by the necessity of self-preservation, to take
means to sweep them out of existence !

Marius was rewarded for his exertions with a sixth
consulship (b. c. 100), which, there being now no enemy
t3 call forth his military activity, he employed in poli-
tical schemes for the humiliation of the aristocratic or
senatorial party, to which, both by the accident of
birth and on principle, ho was a determined enemy. The
efforts of the nobles, however, assisted by the violent
conduct of the partisans of Marius, especially a tribune
named Satuminus, occasioned a reaction ; and on the
expiry of his consulship, Marius withdrew from Rome,
and undertook a journey to the East, where thu Roman

105

OHAMBEBS^ IXfOBtUTIOX fOB VBB PEOPLS.

iniuWM Wta MtmdiBg itwU: During tlw foUowing
t«n yuM th« pollUiml h***"*" wtr» Jnc«i«nt, (h«
Ubaral ipirlt of tli»t p»rty of which MmIiu wm the
hMd devtloping itietfowiy jn* in fr«h mMiifetU-
tioni. ud tho »riitoor»tio p»rtT bwwming orory ye»r
moro fioKO and doggwl in thoir oppoiition. On the
ariitooratic lide, tho ableit and moit earneit man,
although not yet the moit diitinguiihed, waa Sulla—
th« fomer qucBitor of Mariui, and who had lince boon
•mpIoTod in rarioui oapacitiei both military and civil.
At Ungth, in the year b.c. 90, a itorm which had been
long gathering bunt out in that war which if deno-
minated in hiiJory 'the Social or Mareic War,' or
< the War of Italian Independence.'

A* early ae the tribuneihip of Caiui Oracchui, a
clamour had been raieed for the emancipation of the
rarioui Italian itatei from the thraldom m which they
were held by the Romane. The progreea of time weld-
ing the various Italian nationalities into one common
Moiety, and giving to all parti of the peuiniula a com-
mon intereit, had made them leniible to the grievancei
arising from their subordinate condition. The system
of a triple franchise — Roman, Latin, and Italian —
inevitable perhaps at first, had now become a source of
gross injustice. To put an end to this injustice, the
Italians demanded the full Roman franchise. Caius
Gracchus wished to bestow it on them ; and from the
time of his death, 'Italian emancipation' had been
one of the watchwords of the liberal party. Despairing
of effecting their end by agitation, and especially pro-
voked by a recent persecution of the Italian tradesmen
who had settled in Rome, the Italian nations had re-
course to arms (b.c. 90). Ten of these — namely, the
Pioeni, the Vestinians, the Marrucenians, the Marsiaus,
the Pelignians, the Samuites, the Frentanians, the Hir-
pinians, the Lucaniaus, and the Apuliaus, constituted
themselves into a confederacy for the destruction of
Rome, and the foundation of a new Commonwealth, of
which Corfinium, under the new name of Italica, was
to be the capital, and which was to embrace the whole
peninsula. Fortunately for Rome, the Latins (includ-
mg the various colonies of the Latin name throughout
Italy), the Etruscans, the Umbriaus, and the Campa-
nians, did not join the confederacy. The Latins were
instantly rewarded with the Roman franchise, and the
field was taken against the confederacy. During two
years, the war was carried on vigorously on both sides,
the most distinguished of the Roman generals being
Marius, Sulla, and Cueius Pompeius Strabo. At length
(b.c. 89), the Italians having been greatly reduced,
and the whole peninsula having suffered much, the
Romans saw fit to yield to demands which many even
of those whose patriotism led them to fight against the
allies believed to be just. The Roman citizenship was
extended to all the nations of the peninsula south of
the Po, the new citizens being either distributed, ac-
cording to one account, among eight of the old tribes,
or arranged, according to another, in fifteen new ones.
At the same time the Latin franchise was conferred on
the Gauls between the Po and the Alps.

Sulla had gained greater distinction in the Marsic
War than Marius, who was now verging on old age.
The public eye was consequently turned to Sulla; and
as, ou the appearance of the Cimbric hosts twenty
years before, the Romans had placed their dependence
on Marius, so now, on the breaking out of a war in the
East, they placed their dependence on his younger
rival. Mithridates VI., the young king of Pontus, an
Oriental by birth, but of Greek education, and a man
of splendid abilities, had been for some years silently
extending his dominions in western Asia; and the
Romans, long jealous of his movements, had at length
openly >van.ed him to desist. Mithridates scouted the
warning; marched through Asia Minor, putting the
Romans to the sword; and was welcomed everywhere
by the Asiatic Greeks as a deliverer from the Roman
Toke: ultimately (b.c. 88), crossing over into Greece,
he menaced the Empire nearer its centre. Sulla, then
engaged with the Stvmnites, the last dregs of the Social

War, was chosen consul, and invested with the com*
roand against the Eastern monarch. He was then in
the forty -ninth year of his atfe. Vexed at the pre-
ference of his rival, the grim old Marius used all his
efforts to have the appointment cancelled, and himself
nominated to the Mithridatic command. His political
opinions recommending him to many, and a tkibune
namod Sulpicius having procured the passing of a pre-
liminary measure distributing the new Italian citizens
among all the old tribes, which had now attained the
number of thirty-five, he at lensth carried his point,
and Sulla was superseded. But the aristocratic general
was not a man to be trifled with. Marching from the
south of Italy, where he was when he heard the news,
he appeared with his army before the city, forced his
entrance through the rotten walls, dislodged his anta-
gonists from the houses from which they were throwing
stones and missiles at his men, and compelled Marius
and his adherents to save their lives by a precipitate
flight. Marius escaped to Africa; Sulla, after settling
afiairs at Rome, set out for Greece. Here he speedily
retrieved the Roman losses; sacked Athens, which had
provoked him by its opposition; and reduced Archelaus,
the general of Mithridates, to such extremities, that
having crossed into Asia, Mithridates waa glad to con-
clude a peace with him (b. c. 84), by which he renounced
all he had gained, and agreed to pay the expenses of
the war. Meanwhile a terrible reaction had occurred
at Rome in Sulla's absence. Scarcely had he left the
city (b. c. 87), when Lucius Cornelius Ciuna, one of the
consuls whose appointment he had sanctioned, pro-
claimed himself on the popular side, and commenced a
series of measures directly opposed to Sulla's views.
His colleague Octavius drove him from Rome, and the
senate deposed him from the consulship. The Italians,
however, gathered round Ciuna; Marius and his fel-
low-exiles hearing of the movement, hastened back to
Italy; all the able military men of the Marian party,
and among them a young and eenerous commander
named Sertorius, exerted themselves to raise troops;
and at length the aristocratic party found themselves
besieged in Rome. Famine and a pestilence began their
ravages in the city; and the senate, reinstating Cinna
in the consulship, capitulated on the understanding
that blood should not be shed. But there was little
softness in the nature of Marius. Admitted into the
city, the stem old man, who was already tottering on
the brink of the grave, revenged his wronp by a fright-
ful massacre, in which many men of distinction fell.
Marius then caused himself to be elected to a seventh
consulship (b. c. 86), his colleague being Cinna. He
enjoyed the unprecedented honour but a few da^s,
dying on the 13th of January (b. c. 86), and Valerius
Flaccus was named his successor. Flaccus, setting out
with authority to sup<!r8ede Sulla in the Mithridatic
war, was murdered by his legate Flavins Fimbria, who
assumed the command of the army, and gained some
successes; but being afterwards hard pressed by Sulla,
and deserted by his army, committed suicide. This
occurred about the time of the conclusion of the peace
with Mithridates (b. c. 84) ; and Sulla, after settling
the affairs of Asia Minor, and draining the country of
money, so remorselessly as to affect its prosperity for
a century, commenced his journey homewards, with
bloody purposes against Cinna and his adherents, and
an army ready to execute them.

Cinna did not live to face his dreadful enemy. Mur-
dered by his soldiers in his fourth consulship, he left,
as his successors in the leadership of the popular party,
Caius Marius the Younger, Papirius Carbo, and the
brave Sertorius — the two former of whom were chosen
consuls for the year b. c. 82, to oppose Sulla in Italy,
while Sertorius was despatched to Spain to secure that
province. But Carbo and the younger Marius, even
when backed by the brave Samnites and other Italian
nations, were not equal to a contest with such a general
as Sulla, assisted as he was by commanders like Me-
tellus, Lucullus, and voung Cneius Pompeius Strabo,
more commouly called Pompey, the son of that Pom.

mavoBT ov boms.

mIu* wlio had Utn ona of tUa Romiui gen««1t in the
Manic War. Tht ;>ulur wmief w«r« de&Atad; Ma-
riut killed himie >. . ^bo fl«d to Afriua; and Sulla
NinaiiiMl master oi .' tMy. Fearful wae hie vengeance.
The tuaisacre which luriui had ordered five yean
before, wai ilight compared with the butcheries which
took place by the commaud of Sulla. In Rome, and
over all Italy, every man of distinction implicated in
the popular movement was sought out and slain. Pro-
scription lists, as they were called — that is, lists of
doomed individuals — were published ; and soldien were
ready to track them out for the prices put upon their
heads. Military coloniei were likewise planted in all
parts of Italy — ^lands being taken by force for that pur-
pose : thus purging Italy of the Marian leaven, Sulla
was resolved to create in it a new population, which
should be pliant to aristocratic influence.

The work of the soldier over, Sulla commenced that
of the legislator. Appointed perpetual dictator u.c. 82,
he coutinued for three yean to exercise the sovereignty,
making alterations in the constitution, the general
effect of which was to lessen the power of the people in
political affairs, and reforming the criminal law. In
B. c. 79, he surprised every one by abdicating the dic-
tatorship, and retiring into private life ; and in the
following year he died of a loathsome and incurable
disorder, brought on by his debaucheries. Among other
evidences of Sulla's literary accomplishments, he left
memoin of his own life composed in Greek.

POHPEV — CICERO — CAIILINI2 — CiGSAB.

After the death of Sulla, the most distinguished man
of the aristocratic party was Pompey, who had been
engaged in reducing Sicily and Africa to allegiance
after his chief had triumphed in Italy. Some attempts
were made to revive the Marian cause after the dicta-
tor's death, but by the exertions of Pompey and others
they were suppressed, and only in Spain had the Marian
party still a stronghold. There the brave Sertorius,
at the head of the Marian refugees and the native
Spaniards, wa« fast establishing a power likely to rival
that of Italy. None of the SuUanian generals, not
even Pompey, who went to Spain in n. c. 76, could gain
an advantage when opposed to his splendid general-
ship; and had he not perished by treachery (ii. c. 74),
Spain would have become an instrument in his hande
for overturning all that had been done by Sulla in
Italy. Possibly even Spain might have superseded her
sister peninsula as the seat of Roman power. But after
the death of Sertorius, Lis army crumbled away; and,
conquering his successor Perpenna, Pompey found the
pacification of Spain an cosy task. Returning to Italy
in the height of the reputation which the discharge of
this office procured to him, he arrived (b. c. 71) in time
to have some share in another war of a frightful cha-
racter which had been desolating Italy in his absence.
In the year B. c. 73, seventy gladiators, headed by a
Thracian named Spartacus, had broken out of a school,
or rather gladiator warehouse, at Capua, where they
were kept in training; and, speedily joined by all the
slaves and gladiators of the neighbourhood, they had
taken up their position on Mount Vesuvius. Finding
himself at the head of a large army, Spartacus had
given battle to several Roman generals, and defeated
them; and the conquering host which he commanded
was on the point of crossing into Sicily, after ravaging
Italy, when it was attacked and cut to pieces by the
praetor Licinius Crassus (a. c. 71). Spartacus died
fighting ; such of the gladiators and slaves as were
taken prisoners were crucified, or impaled alive ; and
the remnant which had escaped Crassue were met and
destroyed in the north of Italy by Pompey, as he was
returning from Spain. Pompey and Crcssus were chosen
consuls for the year b. c. 70, the former being then in
his thirty-sixth year. Although both were disciples of
Sulla, yet, obeying the necessities of the time, they
repealed several of his enactments, and paued various
iueasures of a liberal tendency.

Pompey was at this time the idol of Rome; and

although after hli eonsuUiIp ha retired into privatt
Uit, ha was soon called upou to axarciaa hie abilities in
a post of graatar dignity and nsponsibility than had
ever bean formally oonfarrad on any Roman before him.
The Mediterranean was at that time infested with
pirates, who had become so numerous and so audacious
during the recent convulsions, that the coast of the
Italian peninsuht itself was not safe from their attacks*
and not a ship could sail from any port in the Roman
dominions, even in the service of government, witltout
the risk of being captured. To enable Pompey to free
the Empire from this nuisance, he was invested (b.c.
67) with supreme command for three years over the
whole Mediterranean and its coasts for 400 stadia in-
land, with power to raise as many men and ships and
as much money as he chose. Thus virtually made
master of the Roman world, Pompey exerted himself
so vigorously and judiciously, that within the short
period of three months he had cleared the sea of
every pirate vessel. That his command might not lie
dormant for the remainder of the three years for which
he had been appointed, a tribune of the people pro-
posed and carried a law conferriug on him the addi-
tional nommand of Pontus, Bithynia, and Armenia, in
order to secure his services in finishing a war which
was then going on with Mithridates. This was the
third war with that monarch ; for there had been a
second short war with him b.c. 83-81. The present
war had originated in some overtures made by Ser-
torius to Mithridates in b.c. 74; but Sertorius having
died in the same year, Mithridates woe left to main-
tain the war alone. The general sent to oppose him
was Lucullus, who carried on the war very success-
fully till Pompey came to supersede him. For four
yean Pompey remained in Asia, breaking the power
of Mithridates, and negotiating with the monarchs of
Parthia, Armenia, &c. He traversed the greater part
of Asia Minor, establishing the Roman influence; de-
throned the king of Syria, and added it and Phoenicia
to the number of the Roman provinces ; entered Pales-
tine, where a civil war wag then raging between the
brothen Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, declared in favour
of the former, besieged and took Jerusalem, and having
imposed a tribute on the Jews, commenced his march
homewards. On his return through Asia Minor, h<3
found that Mithridates had in the meantime killed
himself in despair; and as there was no one to take up
that monarch's part, he was able to parcel out Asia
Minor as he chose — erecting some portions into pro-
vinces, and giving others in charge to tributary princes.
With the glory of having thus subjugated and settled
the East, the fortunate Pompey prepared to return to
Rome in the year b.c. 62.

Meanwhile Rome had been the scene of one of the
most extraordinary attempts at revolution recurdcd in
history — the famous conspiracy of Catiline. Nu pas-
sage in Roman history is involved <n such obscurity as
this; for the accounts of the conspiracy left by Sallust
and other Latin authors are not nearly so satisfactory
to the genuine student of history, as they are pleasant
to the mere reader for amuseuieut. M. Merimee sup-
poses that, several years after Sulla's death, there arose
in Rome four distinct parties — the 'oligarchical fac-
tion,' consisting of the small number of families, the
chiefs of which directed the senate, and in fact governed
the republic ; the * aristocratic faction,' comprehend-
ing the mass of the senaton, anxious to exercise the
power which they saw usurped by a small number of
their colleagues; the 'party of Marius,' including all
those whose families had been persecuted by Sulla, and
who now began to rally, and aspire to power; and
lastly, the ' military faction,' embracing a crowd of old
officera of Sulla, who, having squandered the fortunes
they had gained under him, and seeing themselves
excluded from public affairs, were eager lor some con-
vulsion which might improve their condition. At the
head of the fint party was Pompey, now absent in
Asia. In his absence, the soul of the oligarchical party
wiM the celebrated Miunsm TuUiu» Cicero — an advocate

107

CHAMBEBffS tHPOBlf ATlOV FOtt THE PEOPLS.

Df exirwrdlnwy lnUll«et, born ■.o. IW, » few monthi
rAw VomjMj, Mtd who, onttring public 11» •"ly. Md
■oon ertiiJSlUhcd hU »pu»*tJ<>n •• tho flnt or»tor in
Rome. Of plabeiM birth, it might h»Te bmn expected
ih»t he would »tt*ch hlmielf to the deinoorntic lide ;
but ciroumitMicei, uid hii uAtunJ diipoiition, which
^gi we»k, Mid fond of the contidentiun of others, h»d
won him oyer to the ^ '■• of the oligarchy, to whom hit
t'Uenti were inralual Hftring paned through the
quaitonhip, edileihii id prtDtonhip, which lut he
held B.C. 66, he now a. J to tho highest dignity in
the state. Such was the leader of the oligarchical
vmtty. The leader of the aristocratic party was Crassus,
tbnnerly the colleague of I'oiupov in the consulship,
and now bis personal rival. Uesides Crassus, the sena-
tors had an active and most conscientious partisan in
Marcus Porcius Cato, who had been tribune of the
people — a great-grandson of Cato the Censor, and pos-
sessed of all his integrity. The leader of tho third or
Marian party was a man six years younger than Pora-

fey or Cicero, and who, known during his youth for
is accomplishments, his love of pleasure, his firmness
of purpose, and the boundless generosity of his cha-
racter, had just earned for himself the applauses of all
Home by the lavish magnificence of nis edileship
(B.C. 65). This was Caius Julius Ccesar, the greatest
man that ever Rome produced. He was the son of a
man who had died suddenly, without having made any
figure in public life; his family was one of the noblest
in Rome ; and his aunt had been the wife of Morius.
Literature and pleasure had occupied his youth, and
only now was he beginning to take an active part in
public affairs, although with a force and earnestness
which at once marked him out as a man who was to
lead. With a chivalrous recklessness of consequences,
he had done justice to his uncle's memory at a time
when it was hardly safe to mention the name of Marius;
and now the relics of the Marian party gathered round
him with hope, while the oligarchy and aristocracy, with
the presentiment of what he was to become, would fain
have crushed him. Nine years older than Ciesar, and
three years older than Cicero or Pompey, was the
leader of the fourth or military faction — Lucius Sergius
Catilina, more commonly called Catiline, a man of
illustrious birth, and who had distinguished himself
as one of the ablest and most ferocious officers of Sulln.
His reputation, owing partly to his haggard ])ersonal
appearance, and partly to vague rumours of horrible
crimes which he had committed, was one of the black-
est; and as he walked along tho streets with gigantic
body, but hurried and uncertain step, men pointed, and
•aid that that was Catiline. Yet he possessed extra-
ordinatT abilities, and a peculiar power of fascinating
those with whom he wished to establish a friendly rela-
tion. He had already been pnctor (b.c. 67), and there
was a large class, consisting principally of debauched
young patricians and ruined military men, who looked
forward eagerly to his election to the consulship.

Prevented, by a charge of extortion brought Lgainst
him in his capacity of praetor, from becoming a candi-
date for the consulship of the year b.c. 65, Catiline
came forward as candidate in the following year.
Cicero was his rival ; and the senators mustered in
■uflicient strength to return the orator. Enraged at
his defeat, Catiline began to plot a seditious movement
with his patrician adherents, among whom were Leu-
tulus, Cethegus, Coiparius, Statilius, &c. Rome, it
was said, was to be set on fire, and the consuls and
many of the senators murdered. Towards the end of
the year (b.c. 64), these designs had become ripe, arid
emissaries of Catiline were abroad throughout Italy.
Meanwhile Cicero had obtained private intelligence of
the conspiracy, and on the 8th of November he ad-
dressed Catiline in such vehement terms in the senate-
house, that the conspirator fled into Etruria, from
which he continued to correspond with his accomplices
in Rome. Having obtained satisfactory proofs of the
guilt of these accomplices, and having been empowered
by the senate to act as he chose for the good of the

Joe

state, Cloero eauMd Lsntulus, Cethegus, Statiliai, and
Cseparius to be apprehended ; and these four, notwith-
standing the motion of Ctesar for a more moderate
punishment, were put to death in prison : Cicero's acti-
vity had saved the Commonwealth. Catiline, however,
who had raised troops in Etruria, continued to menace
the state till the beginning of u.c. 62, when he and
many of his patrician supporters died fighting like
lions against the troops sent to destroy them. Thus the
insane movement of the militarv faction was crushed :
there remained, however, mucn of the Catilinarian
leaven difiUsed through Italy — men of broken fortunes
and profligate characters, to whom turmoil and riot
aflforaed the only chance of promotion.

TIIK TRIUMVIRATE — CABAR'b GALLIC WARS — WAR
BETWEB.<« C.H9AR AND POMPET.

When Pompey returned to Rome (b.c. 61), he found
the senatorial party predominant, and Cicero inces-
santly talking about tne Catilinarian conspiracy, and
how he had crushed it. Pompey enjoyed a triumph
more splendid than any conquering seneral had re-
ceived Defore him ; and the sums which he added to
the public treasury were enormous; yet he could not
procure from the senate that general ratification of his
measures in Asia to which ho thought himself entitled.
Cato and other senators insisted on a full investisation
of his measures one by one, ere the sanction whfeh ho
required should be granted. This conduct on the part
of the senators brought Pompey into closer connection
with CiBsar; and these two eminent men, finding that
they agreed in many of their views, and that at least
they were at one in their opposition to the senate, re-
solved to unite their forces so as to work for their com-
mon ends with double strenj^h. For various reasons,
it was found desirable to admit Crassus to this political
partnership; and accordingly, in the vear b.c. 60, was
formed that famous coalition for mutual support between
Pompey, Crassus, and Csesar, which is known in Roman
history by the name of the * First Triumvirate.'
Elected to the consulship of the year b.c. 59, Csesar
infliscd new life into Roman politics, proposing mea-
sures of so liberal a nature, and persevering in them
with such obstinacT, that the senate became almost
frantic, and his colleague Bibulus shut himself up in
his house for eight months in disgust. Among these
measures was a ratification of Ponipey's proceedings in
Asia, and an agrarian law for providing lands for
Pompey 's disbanded soldiers and a number of destitute
citizens. In the same year Coesar gave his daughter
Julia in marriage to Pompey, who had already l)een
married twice. On retiring Arom the consulship, he
obtained, by an unusual stretch of generosity on the
part of the grateful people and the intimidated senate,
the supreme command for live years over the two Oauls
(Cisalpine and Transalpine) and Illyricum. This was
probably tho great object of Caesar's desires; at all
events, it was the best possible thing which could have
happened for him and the republic. Master of Gaul,
and with an army devoted to his will, he could there
mature his power silently and undisturbed, and qualify
himself for entering, at the proper period, upon the
career for which he was destined, and rescuing, by
military force, the ill-governed Empire out of the hands
of contending factions.

The condition of aflTairs in Rome during Caesar's
absence in Gaul was indeed such as to prove the
necessity of some radical change in the system of
the Commonwealth. All was confusion and violence.
Clodius, a profligate relic of tho Catilinarian party,
having been elec^ to the tribuneship of b.c. 58, pro-
cured the banishment of Cicero for his conduct in tho
aflair of the conspiracy. In the following year, how-
ever, Clodius havin|; m the meantime made himself
generally odious, Cicero was recalled. Pompey and
Crassus were elected consuls for the year b.c. 55.
Mindful of their connection with Caesar, who was of
course in constant correspondence with them, they pro-
cured a prolongation of his command over the Uauls

BISTORT OF BOMI!.

for » M<wn4 period of Art ycftn; at the Mune time
obtaining for themMlrei— Potupey, the goremment of
Spftin for five yt»n\ and Crauui that of Syria and the
adjacent oountriei for a limilar period. In d.c. 66,
CraMui let out for the icene of hit command, where,
loon afterward!, he periihed in a fruitlew expedition
against the Parthian* ; Pompey remained at home,
governing Spain by deputioi. During Mveral lubie-
quent yean, Home waa in a itate of anarchy and mil-
rule — the itrecti perambulated by armed niobi, parti-
■am on the one hand of C'lodiui, and on the other of a
powerful citizen called Milo, between whom a feud
wai carried on, ai deiperate and bloody aa any that ever
diitracted a European town in the middle asei. In
one of the nunierous kuHIci which took ulace between
the contending parties, Clodiui was killed ; and taking
advantage of too opportunity, the tottering govern-
ment asserted its rights by bringing Milo to trial, and
procuring his banishment.

Meanwhile the remedy was preparing. Among the
marshes and forests of Qaul, tn« great Caesar was ac-
cumulating that strength of men and purpose with
which he was to descend on Italy and shiver the rotten
fabric of the Commonwealth. * Fain,' says the elo-
quent Michclet — ' fain would I have seen that fair and
pole countenance, prematurely aged by the debaucheries
of the capital — fain would I have seen that delicate
and epileptic man, marching in the rains of Gaul at
the head of his legions, and swimming across our rivers,
or else on horseback, between the litters in which his
secretaries were carried, dictating even six letters at a
time, shaking Rome from the extremity of Delgium,
sweeping from his path two millions of men, and sub-
duing in ten years Gaul, the Rhine, and the ocean of
the north. This barbarous and bellicose chaos of Gaul
was a superb material for such a genius. The Gallic
tribes were on every side calling in the stranger; Druid-
ism was in its decline ; Italy was exhausted ; Spain
untameable; Gaul was eswntial to the subjugation of
the world.' Ceesar's Gallic wars of themselves form a
history. We have an account of them yet remaining
from the pen of the conqueror himself, and that of his
friend Hirtius. Suffice it to say, that in eight years
(d.c. 58-50) Cicsar had conquered all Gaul, including
the present France and Belgium; had paid two visits
to the island of Great Britain (b.c. 55-54); and was
able, in the spring of b. c. 50, to take up his residence
in Cisalpine Gaul, leaving the 300 tribes beyond the
Alps, which he had conquered by such bloody means,
not only pacified, but even attached to himself per-
sonally. His army, which included many Gauls and
Germans, were so devoted to him, that they would
have marched to the end of the world in his service.

Caesar's conquests in Gaul were of course a subject
of engrossing interest at Rome, and when the city
enjoyed an interval of repose from the commotions
caused by Clodius and Milo, nothing else was talked
of. ' Compared with this man,' said Cicero, ' what
was Marius t ' and the saying w«m but an expression
of the popular enthusiasm. Ctesar's visits to Britain
excited especial interest ; and at first there were not
wanting sceptics who maintained that there was no
such island in existence, and that the alleged visit of
Cissar to that place of savages, where pearls were found
in the rivers, was a mere hoax on the public. As,
however, the period of Coisar's command drew near its
close, and it became known that he aspired to a second
consulship, the fears of the aristocratic party began to
manifest themselves. * What may not this conqueror
of Oaul do when he returns to Rome)' was the saying
of Cato and others of the senators. * Accustomed during
so many years to the large and roomy action of a camp,
will he be able to submit again to civic trammels]
Will he not rather treat us as if we were his subordi-
nate officers — Roman laws as if they were savage cus-
toms — and our city itself as if it were a Gallic forest 1 '
Unfortunately, also, the Triumvirate no longer existed
to support Cseiar'a interests. Crasius was dead; and
Pompey — ^whow conuection with Caesar had been severed

by the death of hii wife, Cmar'i beloved daughtw Jnllik
(d.c. 54) — had since gone over to the arlstocrmtlo party,
to which he had formerly belonsed, and whose policy
was, upon the whole, more genial to his character. In
D,c. 52, he enjoyed a third consulship, without a col-
league, having Men appointed by the senatoni as the
man most likely to restore order to the distracted state;
and during the following vear, he lent his aid to those
enemies of Cniar who insisted that, ere he should be
allowed to stand for the consulship, he should be obliged
to resign his Gallic command, and resume his station
as a private citizen, ready to meet any charges which
might be brought against him. Caesar did not want
agents in Rome — some of them paid, some of them
voluntary — to plead his cause; and through these he
offered to resign his command, provided Pompey would
do the same with regard to Spain. Tho proposal waa
not listened to; and a decree of the senate having beeu
passed that Caesar should disband Ills army against a
certain day, under pain of being treated as a public
enemy, his agents left the city, and hastened to his
camp in Cisalpine Gaul (b,c, 50).

Caesar did not delay a moment. Sending orders to
his various legions distributed through GaiH to follow
him an speedUy as possible, ho placed himself at the
head of such forces us were with him at the instant,
crossed the small stream called tho Rubicon, which,
separated his province of Cisalpine Gaul from Italy,
and advanced towards Rome, amid cheers of welcome
from tho populations which ho passed through. Utterly
bewildered by his unexpected arrival, the whole sena-
torial party, with Pompey at their head, abandoned
Rome, and proceeded into the south of Italy, where
they tried to raise forces. Caesar pursued them, and
drove them into Greece. Then hastening into Spain,
he suppressed a rising Pompeian movement in that
country. Returning to Rome with the title of Dictator,
which had been bestowed on him in his absence, ho
passed various salutary measures for restoring order in
Italy, and among them one conferring the Roman
citizenship on the Cisalpine Gauls; then crossed over
into Greece (b.c. 49) to give battle to Pompey, wha
had meanwhile assembled forces from all parts cf the
Roman dominion. At length the two armies met on
the plain of Pharsalia in Thessaly (9th August b.c.
48), when Pompey sustained a complete defeat. Not
long afterwards he was killed by the orders of Ptolemy,
king of Egypt, when seeking to land on the coast of
that country. Caesar, who had used his victory with,
great moderation, arrived in Egypt soon after, and re-
mained there several months, iascinated by Cleopatra,
who was then at war with her brother Ptolemy.

Having settled the affairs of Egypt, Caesar proceeded
to Asia Minor, crushed an insurrection there headed by
Pharnaces, the sou of Mithridates, and then (September
D. c. 47) returned to Italy. He remained there but a,
few months, setting out in the beginning of B. c. 46 for
Africa, where the relics of the Pompeian party had
taken refuge. These were soon defeated; and Cato,
the most distinguished man among them, killed him-
self rather than fall into the conqueror's bands. Poin-
pey's two sous escaped to Spain, where they excited au
msurrection, which, however, was soon suppressed.

EXTINCTION OF THE COMMONWEALTH — DICTAT0I18HIP AND
DEATH OF CESAR — THE SECOND TRIUMVIRATE — ClVIt
WARS OF MARK ANTONT AND 0CTAVIANU8.

From August b. c. 48, when he defeated Pompey at
Pharsalia, till March b. c. 44, when he waa aseassinatod,
Julius Caesar was supreme master of the Roman world.
Senate and people vied with each other in conferring
dignities upon him ; and all the great offices and titles
recognised by the Roman constitution — as consul, dic-
tator, censor, tribune, &c. — were concentrated in his per-
son, while he exercised the virtual patronage of almost
all the rest. In short, the Commonwealth may be said
to have ceased when he defeated Pompey ; and had he
lived long enough, there is no doubt that he would
have fully established the Empire. It was not so much,

108

OHAMBIBM HfOUf AnOV fOB THB PIOPLE

kowtr*, in orgMlc «1uui|M •f «!• •«•«*■«•«, -In
ill. mormoM peww wW«k knd k^V'T* '"wM'

iM MinnllT c«tW Into tiftrt «•»»»»'«''• '»'«»*»«>"'»*P.

nnonf whfch hto femoai itfonn of tho CaUndw dwMrTW

MpMilia m«ntion,tk«r* won innainer»bla Mhemot which

iMhiui pnrfwtwl for kimMlf. Md fonio of which ho

would probnbly h»TO oioeutwi, h»d hii life not been

oat thort. To ostond tho ltoin»n dominion in tho

Xatt ; to drnin tho Pontint manhei ; to cat through

tbo Iithmuf of Corinth; to prepare » complete ra»p of

tho Ronnn Empire; to dnw up » new digeit of I(om»n

Inw; to eftabliih public librariei in the metrnpolii —

•aeh were n fow of the deiignt which thii great man

entertained at the time when the coniptracy wm formed

which led to hit atMMination. At the head of thii

plot, which coniiited of about lixty ]i(trinna of note,

were Brutai and Cauiui, both men of tlio highest

nbilitiee, and eiteemed hj Cieiar; and the former at

leaet actuated br motirci of the pureit character. The

immediate occaiion of the coniptracy waa the rumour

that Cnmr intended to accept tne title of king, which

■ome of hit adherenti were proMing upon him. When

the plot waa matured ^b. c. 44), it wai reaoWed that

Caeiar ahould be aaaaaainated in the lenate-houio on

the idea ^the 15th) of March, on which dajr it waa

understood a motion waa to be brought forward bj

iome of hia frienda for appointing him king of Italjr.

' Upon the flrat onaet,' sajs Plutarch, ' thoae who

were not prirj to the design were astonished, and their

horror at the action waa so great, that thejr durst not

fiy, nor assist Ctesar, nor so much aa apeak a word. But

thoae who came prepared for the buainesa enclosed him

on eret^ aide, with their naked daggera in their hands,

and which waj soeror he turned he met with blows, antl

aaw their aworda leTclled at hii face and eyea. Bmtua

ffare him one stab in the groin. Some aay that he

fought and resisted all the rest, an<l moved from one

place to another, calling for help ; but when he saw

Brutua'a aword drawn, he covered hia face with hia robe,

and quietly aurrendered himself, till he was pushed,

either by chance or by design, to tho pedestal on which

Pompev's statue stood, which by that means was much

stained with hia blood: so that Pompey himself may

aeem to have had his share in the revenge of his former

enemy, who fell at his feet, and breathed out hia aoul

through the multitude of hia wounda; for they say he

received three-and-twenty.'

The assassination of Csesar haa justly been prO'
nounced * the most stupid action that ever the Uomans
committed.' The later ages of the republic had been
one continued scene of violence and anarchy; and not
until Csesar had risen to the chief power in the state
was there a restoration of order and efficient govern-
ment. Hia aasaaaination plunged tli'< onian dominiona
into new and complicated civil \,u.<i. On the one
aide were the conapiratora, with Brutua and Cassius at
their head, bent on the futile project of throwing back
the Empire into the condition of a republic. On the
other were Mark Antony, an able and valiant officer
of Caesar'a; Lepidus, another officer of lesf distin-
guished abilities; and Marcus Octaviua, a young man
of eighteen, Caesar's grandnephew, and who, as his
uncle's heir, now assumed the name of Caius Julius
C«esar Octavianus. These three united then:'4«lvea into
a triumvirate (November b. c. 44) for nvencin^* Caesar'a
death, and settling the affairs of the repuoJlR. After
making themselves masters of Italr, and pv.^Inff to
death by wholesale proscription all those citiKen* n v r9
Tiews they suspected, among othera the greiiti j^r.?
amiable Cicero, they punuMl the conaplrttoit into j
Greece. At length, in the autumn of b. c. i'i-, tr" gn at |
battlef were fought at Philippi in Macedonia t'Ctwern I
the republican forces and thoae of the triumrir.^te , Tht -
former were defeated ; Caaaius caused himaelf to ,^ ilain,
Brutui committed auicide, and the triumviri thua re-
mained maaten of the Roman world. They divided it
among them: Antony anuming the government of the

Baft, Lenldai obtaininf A^'rlea, md Ootatlaniii rttam*
ing to ImIj, maater of the oonntrieo a4}a««nt to thai
ptnlMrala. Bach eonthiaod to govera hia share for aomo
time indapendontly I bat a quarrel enaninj; botwem
Octarlanua and Lopldni, the latter waa <'.8prived of
hii power, and oblind to retire into priTat«> life, Tho
Kmpire was now drvidod between Anton > and Octa-
vianus, the former maater of the Eail, the latter of tho
West. At length, however, political and private reaaont
led to a rupture between the two potentate* (b.c. 33).
The raah and pleaaure-lovlng Antony, who bad been
caught in the toila of Cleopatra, the licontioni queen
of F^ypt, and therefore on* of hi* aubjeet aover*igna a*
master of the East, waa no match for the canning, ab-
stemious, and remorseleaa Octavlanua. D«f*at*d at tho
battle of Actium (2d September b.c. 81), h* fled with
Cleopatra to Egrpt, where, being hard prea**d by Octa>
vianus, they both died by their own hands. Oetavianu*
thus remained sole master (n.c. 30) of the great Empire
which Julius CsDsar had prenared for him; and under
the new name of Augustus, he continued to wield the
sovereignty during the long period of forty-four year*
(it.c. 8U — A.D. 14). During these forty-four years, tho
various races and nations which *o many centuries of
conquest had connected together, became consolidated
into that great historic entity—* The Roman Empir*.'

CONDITION OF THB BMPIM UNDER AVOVSTVI.

The Roman Empire under Augustus consisted of
Italy and the following countries governed aa pro-
vincea : — In Europe, Sicily, Sardinia, and the other
islands in the west of the Mediterranean, Oaul as far
as the Rhine, Spain, lUyricum, Dalmatia, Pannonia,
Thrace, Macedonia, Greece, and the islands of tho
JKgthn; in Aiia,n\l the countries between the Caspian
Sea, the Parthian Empire, the Persian and Arabian
Oulfa, the Mediterranean, and the Caiicaaus; aud in
Africa, Mauritania, Numidia, the ancii nt territory of
Carthage, Cyrene, and Esypt. Within theae limits ther*
may have bsen included, in all, about 100,000,000 of
human beings, of different races, complexions, language*,
and degrees of civilisation. Not les* than one-ball of
the whole number must h^ve been in a condition of
slavery, and of the rtst, >y that amall proportion who,
under the envied nnnK oi Roman cituena, inhabited
Italy, or were diatvibiiled, in nfficial or other capacitie*,
through the cities .)!' the E\u|>ire, enjoyed political inde-
pendence. ThcHO 'dtizena,' diffbaed through the con-
quered countries, constituted the ingredient by which
the whole was kept in union. Working backwards and
forwarda in the midst of the varioua popnlationa in
which they were thus planted, the Romans aaaimilated
them gradually to each other, till Celta, Spaniard*,
Asiatics, &c. became more or less Romanised, Thi*
process of assimilation was much facilitated by the cir-
cumstance that, with the exception of Judea and other
{lortions of the East, all the nations of the Roman Em-
pire were polytheistic in their beliefs, so that there was
no fundamental repugnance in this respect between V. :
modes of thought of one nation and thoae of anothet.
In fact, the Roman Em|[ <'■: may be defined a* a ONi-
pulsory assemblage of polytheistic nations, in o I'er
that Christianity might operate over a large (urfac ■ u.
once of that polytheism which it waa to destroy and
supersede. In the twenty-fifth year of the reint of
Augustus, and while that prince vras ruling with un-
disturbed sway over 100,000,000 of fellow-polytheists,
there took place in that amall monotheistic comer of
bis dominiona which lay os the aouthem border of the
L«;vr.nt, ai> evrnt, the nxiportanee of which the wisest
of t' e RomaiVi could not have foreseen. This was the
y .... in an oIa. are Jewish town, of JeeuaChriat. From
. '-.itt town, an ' .'rom that obacure comer of the vast Ro-
.nan Empire, tm to proceed an influence which waa to
<- /erapread the polytneiatic nations, eat out or diaaolve
into itaelf all existing creeds and philosophies, and re-
novate the thoughts, the habits, the whole constitution
of mankind. Waiting for this influence, the various
nations— Celti, Greeks, Spanisrdi, ftc— were lubnitted

r:£ rosr Of HOME

to 4li« pnllninwjr prMiVN of Romkn Inttltutloni,
nodlfylDf, Mid In tome omm oh»n|ing, thtir nMWa
eh»nMt«n. Th« MHtOTn hM of tho Enipiro, howtror,
IumI boon too thoroughly Imprognated with th« < )reek
•lenitnt to ylold OMlly to tno nowproMuro; Mid
eordingly whiU tho L*tin UngUMo tpread among tti'
1>arb»nkni "f tha WMt, Oreek itill continued to l>« th«
language it Eaat. Thii ileniarcation botwof < the

wettom i>i ..ntin-ipoKhlng and the eaitorn or > .^k
•jwaking portion* of the Kuipire became ezoveUiiifjl^
important «nerwardt.

Of th!a raat empire Rome wai the metropolii, n(>« a
eity of innumerable itreeti and bulldingf, and oonlu.:
ing, it ii calculated, a population of about two millloni
and a-hitif. From Itome made branched out in all
directione leading to the other towni of Italy, and

Sawing through tho rlUa-rtudded eetatei of the rich
loman citiMiie. From the coattn of Italy, the Medi'
terranean afforded an eaa/ accew to the varioui pro-
Tinrei, by whofe in'luitry the metropolii and Italy it-
Mif were in » . 'L»t leaiure lupported. The prortncei
theTiieb-o* > < m 'f<ied by road* oonnectlng town
with tow, . u 7i> M parts of the Empire open to
the ' .ril ai I u. ' ly funotionariee of goTemment.
Jlty..i'\/ reviiiina at Home, the will of tno emperor
Vibr 1. I r iijn a hivrarohy of intermediate tunc-
tionoriei, ■ > >> to be felt throughout the whole of hit
4 nt dominion.'. In effect, thii will waa absolute. In
> .iguituf, aa in Julias Ctesar, all the great oflicr* of
■tikte, which had so long subsisted aa mutual checks
upon eich .)th«r, were united, so aa to confer on him
powr nf t'lie most unlimited description. The senate
■till met, but only as a judicial body in cases of trea-
■on, or leg'ilatiTely to pass the decrees which Augustus
had preriously matured with a few private counsollors;
Mid the comitia were still held, but only to elect can-
didates already nominated bv the emperor. In this
■ystem uf absolute dominion in the hands of a single
indiridual, the RoroMis cheerfully acquiesced, partly
from experience of the superior nature of the goreni-
ment thus exercised to the wretched anarchy from which
they had escaped, and partly in consequence of the
hopelessness of roTolt against a man who hod the entire
military force of the Empire at his disposal. In Rome
and Italy, the public peace was preserred by the prmto.
rian cohortt — bodies of soldiers of tried valour, to whom
Augustus gave double pay. Throughout the provinces,
thu people were kept m check by the regular troops,
who were accumulated, however, principally in the
frontier provinces of the Empire, where they might both
maintain tranquillity among the recently. conquered
populationa, and resist the attacks of the barbarian
racea beyond. The provinces where military force waa
required, Auguatus retained in hia own hands, admi-
nistering them through legates appointed by himself,
usually for several years; the others he intrusted to
the senate, who named governors for a single year.

The cities of the Empire were the centrea of Roman
influence. It waa in them t)»at the Roman citizens
were co'igf' rated, that school" were established, and
t^At the various agenciea of civilisation operated movt
uniformly. In the rustic populations of the provinces,
the national individuality was preserved with the na-
tional language. It was part of the policy of Augustus
to found cities in the choicest situations in the provinces;
and so rapid waa the spread of the Roman civilisation
during his reign, that '-< -iioaM writers and orators of
note began to be produc«>a erea ^it remote parts of the
Empire. The Greek language Mid liti'rature began
also to penetrate the provinces of the Wem, and to find
students among the Celt* Mid I^paulards.

TIIK SUCCUaOBS OF Al .ii'HWVH — Di -SEMINATION Of CHRIS-
TIAMITV — DIVtuoA OF I'HK kMI'iaK.

During a period of nearly three uenturM* »ft«i' the
death of Augustus, the Empire remained, so liar ait po-
litiotl arrangements were concerned, pretty neat ly as
he had left it; and the history of Riome during these
centuries is little more thMi an account of the personal

(ipefevi.

seem to hare haen speeimona of tho utmost doptavity
to which human nature could attain; othsra were men
of great mind, and worthy of their atation. At first,
the Kmnire waa inherited as a birthright bv thosa who
'■ould Pialm deacent from Auguatua; out in tho and,
tlie r«!al patrons of the sovereign dignity were the
»rini< ', ami fapiiflally the praetorian cohorts. To raise
favourite g. m f* to the purple, and afterwards to
a, ml«r them foi tl' ■'aka of the donations which it
was . 'i»«,»>"mry to rn * in the cow* of a ii«w acoae*
slot), l><" tlie pani me of the various amii- and

sometliueB it >ia|ic«ij> ' that there were aevei, <m«
pnrori at tho anme tim. different armies throusi.n'it
the Kuipire having each app ' < one. The efleci
these military aiipointnienti wn ' rai«e to the highi
dignity of the stat<> mcnbom at i distance from lUimo,
and who, spending r lives in 'o camp, entertained
no aifection for the y of the i-sars. M«iinwhile,
under all the emnerui >iUke, thu rvat family of na-
tions incorporated uiii the Roiu/tn rule were daily
advancing towards that dition out of which modem
society was to arise. Tli< reader, however, must inia>
gine for himself the toil and bustle of the successive

Senerations of Celts, Spaniards, Qreeki, I'ricans, and
Lsiatics, who were bom and bii -ed duri' these three
important centuries In which i dern iMiisation waa
cradled: all that we can give li <> is ohronological
list of the emperors during that i>«riod : ~~

AuinutiM, •

•

from . »,c

to 14A.0

Tiberius, -

• -

|4 i.D,

to 37 ...

CallRiils, - -

• ... .TJ' ..

41 ...

CIsudlua,

•

... 11

M ...

Nero, - - -

•

. ... M

8i ...

Oalbit, Otho, Vltolliua, ■

... fHI ..

W ...

7B ...

VaspuUn, •

• ... 70 ■

Titui,

• «

... 7»

81 ...

Uomltian, •

• ... 81

08 ...

Nerva,

•

... 88 ,

88 ...

Tri^tSD,

... 88 .

117 ...

Hadrian,

... 117 ..

1.18 ...

Antoninus Pius, •

• ... las ...

181 ...

Harous Antoalnus,

■

... ifli ...

IM) ...

Commodus, -

• ... IHO ...

198 ...

Pmrtinu,

... 19.-1

Beptlmiu* Beverus,

- ... 193 ...

11 ...

Caraoslla,

... 811 ...

17 ...

llellogabalns,

- ... 818 ...

L"i8 ...

Alexander Beverus,

•

... 888 ...

1 't ...

Julius Moximinus,

• ... 838 ...

!i. 1 ...

Qordion, •

... 838 ...

»- 1 ...

Philip,

- ... 8« ...

84 ' ...

Oecius,

... 849 ...

8.'> ...

Oollus,

• ... SSI ...

SA.'i ...

Valerian and aolllenus, -

... 8S3 ...

880 ...

Galllenus, -

- ... 8R1 ...

868 .

Aurellus,

... 868 ...

870 ..

Aurelianiis, -

■

■ ... 870 ...

87« .

Taoltus, >

•

... 878 ...

878 ..

Florlan,

•

- ... 878

Probus, -

... 878 ...

888 ...

Carus,

- ... 888 ...

8H4 ...

Diocletian and Moxtmlan,

... 884 ...

305 ...

The only facta connected with the reigns of these
emperors which need be noticed here are, that in the
reign of Claudius, Britain was added to the Roman
dominion; that under the great Trajan, the Empire waa
still farther extended; and that under Caracalla, the
Roman franchise was extended to all the free inhabi-
tants of the Empire. The vices of such emperors as
Caligula, Nero, Commodus, Caracalla, and Heliogabalus,
may pass unnoticed^ as may also the military achieve-
ments of some of ti e later emperors. The reign of
Diocletian, however v \. d. 284-305), constitute an
epoch in the history oi' the Empire. Finding the un-
wieldy mass too great for the administration of a single
individual, he divided it between himself and his col-
league Maximian, assigning to Maximian the western
or Latin-speaking nations, and retaining the East in
his own hands. Under each emperor there waa to be a
royal personage called Cseaar, who waa to govera part
of that emperor's section of the Empire, and afterwards
succeed him in the chief dignity. This arrangement
did not last long; wd after yariooa subdiyiaiona of the

CHAMBERS'S DWOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Empire, and itrumles between emperow and Cwwrf,
the whole wa. reSnited under Con«tantlne the Great
(A.D. 306-337). Under thia wmarkaWe man Chns-
tianity wai eataUidied ae the rehrion of the Empire.

Dunng the three centuriee wh oh had elapsed be-
tween the crucifixion of Chrisv-which took place m the
nineteenth year of the reign of Tibenus— and the ac-
ceMion of Constantino to the supreme government of
the whole Empire, the new religion had been silently
but surely spreading itself; first among the Jews, then
among the Greeks or eastern, and lastly among the
Latin or western Gentiles. It had been subjected to
numerous persecutions, some local, and others general,
over the whole Empire; but had, nevertheless, made
such progress, that it is calculated that in Constan-
tino's reign about a twentieth part of the whole popu-
lation of the Empire were professed Christians, while
even over the nineteen-twcntieths who continued in
polythr^isra, the indirect influence of Chridtianity had
been immense. Led to embrace Christianity ** ' -uself,
although with a . nsiderable tincture of poi. ! aistic
superstition, Coustantine -'e his imperial reco,^. .ition
to the already fullj -organised ecclesiastical system of
the Christians, with ita churches, presbyters, bishops,
and metropolitans. The civil ban havmg thus been
removed from the profession of Christianity, it began
to prevail in form, as it already did in fact, over the
heterogeneous polytheism of the Empire.

Another important act of Constantino's reign, be-
sides his proclamation of toleration for Christianity
(a.d. 321), was his removal of the seat of empire from
Rome to Constantinople. Not long after this was
effected, Constantino died at the age of sixty, leaving
the Empire divided among his three sons. One of
them, Constantius, ultimately acquired the whole, and
transmitted it to his successors; but in the year 395,
Theodosius, one of these successors, effected a per-
manent separation between the East and the West.
From that date, the history of Rome divides itself into
two distinct histories — that of the Western or Latin,
and that of the Eastern or Greek empire. The latter
protracted its existence till a.d. 1453, when Constan-
tinople was taken by the Turks : the former crumbled
to pieces much earlier, before the attacks of the northern
barbarians, who finally destroyed it in 476.

DOWNFALL OF THE WESTERN EHFIKE.

From an earlv period, the Empire had been assailed
on its northern frontier by the German and Sclavonian
races living east of the Rhine and north of the Danube.
Partly by force, and partly by negotiation, the autho-
rities of the Empire had been able to keep these barba-
rian populations in check ; but towards the end of the
fourth century, the growing decrepitude of the Empire
tempted invasion, and hordes of barbarians from Scan-
dinavia, Russia, and Tartary, rolled themselves towards
the Danube. At first, it seemed as if the eastern empire
would be the first to fall before them; but the tide of
invasion was at length decisively diverted towards the
west. Province after province was torn away by Goths,
Alans, lluns, Vandals, and others: Italy itself was ra-
vaged several times; and at length, a.d. 476, Romulus
Augustulus, the last sovereign, was dethroned, and Italy
became a prey to the Germans. The various steps in this
gradual disintegration of the Empire, the heroic deeds
of the two chief agents in the dismemberment — Alaric,
king of the Goths, and Attila, king of th>> 'I>..a — and
the gradual formation of Ilomano-Genr .iiic kingdoms
out of fragments of the shattered Romai society, cannot
here be detailed.

In the chaos into which the Western Er. pire was
thrown by the Germanic invasions, three distinct ele-
ments were discemrble — the old Roman or Romanised
population ; the Ciiristian church ; and the freshly-
inniaed German vitality. Hy the interaction of these
three elements, modem European society has been
evolved; and to trace this evolution in France, Eng-
land, Spain, Italy, kc. is the object of the succeeding
number — Tai History of thk Middle Aqes.
112

ROHAN LITElUTUKE.

It has already been mentioned, that for the first £▼<>
centuries of their existence as a people, the Romans
possess' d no literature. A great and conquering nation,
and inlieriting from their Etruscan progenitors a large
share of the practical knowledge possessed by that
singular people, it was not till they came in contact
witb the Greeks that the Romans began to develop
their faculties in literary compositions ; and then, as
was natural, their first productions wcro translations
from, or imitations of, Greek writers. Livius Andro-
nicus and Cneius Noevius (d.c. 240), the earliest Roman
poets, seem to have beeu copyists of the Greek; as
were also Fabius Pictor and Cincius Alimentus, the
first Roman annalists, and who lived during the Second
Punic War. Between the Second Punio War, however
(b.c. 202), and the dictatorship of SulU (b.c. 81),
there arose a number of writers of no ordinary power,
in whose hands thi Latin language acquired force and
flexibility, and whose works illustrate the native charac-
ter of the Romans. Among these should be mentioned
Ennius, the father of Roman poetry; Plautus, his con-
temporary, a man of rich comic genius; the elder Cato,
the first prose writer of note ; and Terentius or Terence, a
comic poet of a less rude style than Plautus, and whose
first play was acted in the year b.c. 165.

The period from the dictatorship of Sulla (b.c. 81)
to the death of Augustus (a. d. 14) is the golden age of
Roman literature. Then flourished Cicero, undoubtedly
the greatest as well as the most voluminous of Roman
prose authors, whose orations and philosophical dis-
quisitions are still read with pleasure ; Ceesar, whose
brief * Commentaries ' on his own campaigns are among
the simplest and most compact of historical writings ;
his friend Sallustius or Sallust (bom b.c. 68), who has
left us spirited, if not unprejudiced, accounts of the
Jugurthine War and the conspiracy of Catiline ; the
didactic poet Lucretius ; his contemporary, Catullus,
whose lyrical effusions are among the sweetest and most
truly poetic things in the Latin language ; and, not
to mention a host of others, Virgil and Horace, the two
chief classic poets of the Augustan age — the former the
author of the celebrated epic poem the ' ^neid,' and if
not an original, at least a graceful and pathetic writer;
and the latter a sagacious and good-humoured observer
of mankind, and the author of many odes, satires, and
epistles. Somewhat later were Livy, the great historian
of Rome, in 142 books, only thirty-five of which, how-
ever, have reached us ; and Ovid, who ranks second to
none of the Roman poets for ease and elegance.

Under the emperors, the Latin authors became more
and more numerous, springing up in all parts of the
Empire, and cultivating all depigments. Out of tho
long list of authors intervening between the reign of
Tiberius and that of Commodus, we may mention the
poets Italius, Lucan, and Silius Italicus; Martial, the
writer of epigrams; Seneca, the Stoic philosopher, put
to death by Nero ; Quinctilian the rhetorician ; Pliny,
the celebrated natural historian, who was killed a. d.
79 by the great et. .ption from Vesuvius which destroyed
the city of Herculaneum ; Tacitus, the historian of the
declining age of Rome; and Juvenal, whose satires re-
veal too horribly the immorality of the society in the
midst of which he lived.

The host of petty rhetoricians, poets, &c. both Greek
and Roman, who lived in the various cities of the Em-
pire in the second, third, and fourth centuries, may bo
passed over. During these centuries Christianity was
overspreadiii 4 the Empire, and drinking up all the in-
tellect and enthusiasm of the various nations; and no-
thing more strikingly marks the decrepitude of poly-
theism at that time, as compared with the freshness of
the new religion, than the contrast between the miser-
able verse-making, which seemed to be the only literary
occupation practised in polytheistic circles, and the
earnest and powerful writings of the Christian fathers
on those great theological t«pics which concerned the
Di^due nature and the everlasting destiuiei of man.

HISTORY OF THE MIDDLE AGES.

Undkb the title of (he Middle Ages is comprehended
that period of histoiy which succeeded the destruction
of the Roman western empire (see preceding sheet),
And extended to the end of the fifteenth or beginning
of the nzteenth century, when learning was rerived in
Europe. This period of about eight hundred yean may
be sud to dime ancient from modem times. The
earlypoition of the middle ages is sometimes styled
the Dark -Ages; for during this time the ancient ciTi>
liaation of Rome, a bequest from Egypt and Greece,
disappeared, and ancient institutions perished, without
anyuung better being substituted. The middle ages
altogether difito from any other period in history. They
may be generally described as an era of unirersal dis-
order, in which was maintained a struggle between
force and reason. 0!d goremments were broken up,
and new ones took their place, only to be dismembered
in turn. Literature sunk into obscurity, and was con-
fined to the cells of monks. Slavery was unirersal, and
was modified alone by the benign influence of Chris-
tianitT. Gradually, as it will be seen, nations assumed
a settled character, arts were discovered, and for mili-
tary turbulence were substituted peaceful institutions.
M>\eh, therefore, as there is to deplore in the history of
the middle ages, there is not a little to commend and
be 0atefiil for. We must view these ages as being the
cradle of modem civilisation, the era whence sprang
much that we venerate in our institutions, much that
distinguishes modem from ancient manners.

THK KASTKRN EHPIIIK TO TBK IWKLFTH CENTURY.

It is necessary to begin a history of the middle iues
with a reference to the decline of the Roman Empire.
This decline was caused by various circumstances, but
chiefly by the weakened condition of society. Instead
of rearing a respectable lower and middle class, the
Roman aristocracy kept the mass of the people in
slavery, so that at length society consisted of but a
comparatively small number of privileged persons,
including the military, and vast numbers of serfs or
tlfv-d — the haogers-on of great men — and in efl^ct
|>aupers. ' The freedom of the ancient world expired
in the course of ages,' says Alison, 'from the small
number of those who enjored its benefits. The ruling
citizens became corrapted fbm the influence of pros-
perity, or by the seductions of wealth; and no innuion
of energy took place from the lower ranks to renovate
their strength or supply their place.' Besides *lhis
general, there was a special cause. In 931, Constabtine
transferred the imperial abode from Reme to Bysan-
(ium, a city situated en the Bo^horus, and afterwards
No. 56.

called Constantinople. In his endeavours to make tUi
dty the seat of government, Constantino onl^ partially
succeeded; for it generally happened after his day that
there was one emperor iq. the East and another In the
West, and not unfre^uently two or three diiierent indi-
viduals in the provinoes, at the head of considerable
military forces, chdming partial and even universal
empire. Rome itself, and the countries of western
Europe, were soon taken possession of by barbarous
intraders, and lost all the characteristics and individu-
ality of empire ; but Constantinople continued for a
thousand years the abode of men who hau still the
name of emperors, and reckoned themselves the de-
scendants of the Csesars, althoueh they had long ceased
to wield anything but the shadow of power. Con-
stantino was himself instramental in dismembering
his empire, having before his death divided it among
no fewer than five individuals — namely, his three sons,
Constantino, Constans, and Constantius, and his two
nephews, Dalmatius and Annibalianus, both of whom
bore in addition the surname of Csesar — a name still
popular among a people who wished themselves to be
considered Roman.

Constantino II. soon fell a sacrifice to the cruelty
and ambition of his brother Constans, who in his turn
lost his life in attempting to quell a revolt among his
subjects; and Constsmtius, the youngest of the sons,
having found means to destroy the two Caesars, and five
other cousins, and two uncles, found himself at an
early period of life the undisputed master of the em-
pire. He reigned twenty-four years, but left no monu-
ments of goodness or of greatness, having wasted his
time in the practice of vice, or in the equuly unprofit-
able, if more innocent, emplojrment of disputing with
bishops on the abstrusest points of doctrinal theology;
while a host of enemies, apparently from every side of
his dominions, were engaged in undemiining and lay-
ing waste the empire. It was in the West that these
attacks were first made, though perhaps it waa in tha
East that they were fiei«est. Numberless and powerfiil
barbarians now began to pour unceasingly upon Gaul,
Spain, and latterly upon Italy itself, from the forests
of the north, and in particular from those of Germany
— a country whose inhabitants have been remarkable
in the history of the world, both as having originated
many of the greatest movements in society, and as
having laid open more of the sources of human thought
than any other people that could be named. The
Franks, Saxons, Qoths, and Alemanni, devastated the
fine countries watered by the Rhine, and so effectually
severed them from the Empire, that from this period
their history becomes wholly separate. At the same
time the Sarmatians, Persians, Scytliians, and others,
made dreadful incursions in the East. All that Con-
staiiiius could do to stem this powerful tide was to
raise his kinsman Julian, whom ho sumamed Csesar, to
command in the anny.

Julian had been early iustracted in the Christian
religion, but he is not known to have ever given it any
credit, although he has been often called apostate. He
had imbibed the philosophy of Plato in the schools of
Athens; and with this learning, with the elements of a
great character in his mind, and with the models of
Caesar, of Trajan, and of Marcus Antonmus in his eye,
he formed the design, and seemed to have the ability,
to raise up and consolidate the glories of the falling
Empire, ilis victories over the Alemanni i«. Gaul,
although they preserved the Empire, exciteilr«nly the
envy of the emperor, and Constantius was about to de-
pose him ih>m his command, when his own death saved
nim from the ignominy to which the soldiery would
certainly have subjeoted him for any attempt to da»

OHAHBIBCrB nrfOBMAKIOK FOB THB PEOPLE.

grade their faTOurite commander. Julian wai himMlf
declared emperor by the army, and the people had lort
both the poilw and the wiU to r<^. Unfortunately
for hli fiune, Julian periehed in battle with the Per-
only three yeare after hi» accewion. In that

iiani

abort period he had reformed manv abuiet in the itate;
and though perwnaUy hoatile to the Chmtian religion,
and though ha u«ed both anumenta and ridicule agabit
it, he not only adrocated, but praotieed unirenal tole-
ration. It i* creditable also to Julian, that in eitab-
liahing the ancient orders of Roman priesthood, he
wae at pains to niforee a strict morality in all the re-
lations of life. He was succeeded, after the fall of
■ereral candidates, by Valentinian, whose father had
been a soldier from the Danube. This emperor took
for colleague his brother Valens, to whom he assigned
Constantinople and the goTemment of the East. The
jeign of Valens was signalised by the irruption into
£urope of an enemy tiU then unknown to the Romans;
these were the Hutu, a oonfederatioi. of Tartar tribes,
■ome of whom had obtained the aacendancr and control
oTcr the rest, and led them on to inrade the nations of
Europe, Their numbers and ferocity led the ancient
writers to describe them in terms of consternation,
which to modems, who are no strangers to Calmucs,
Cossacks, Tartars, and other tribes of similar origin,
appear sufficiently ludicrous. They never lived In
houses, slept under trees, ate raw flesh, and were alto-
gether superior in war even to the Goths, who were
now in alliance with the Romans, and had b^un to
relish the comforts of a settled life. They were, there-
fore, driven away before the Huns, and were forced,
in search of a home, to invade the Roman territory.
Here they were opposed by the Emperor Valens; but
they defeated his army, and made his own life a sacri-
fice. He was succeeded by his nephew Gratian, who
chose for his colleague Theodosius, a general of talents
and celebrity. This emperor restoreid the confidence
of his own army, and broke the power of the Goths, by
hit skill and caution; and was the first of the emperors
who practised the mode of dividing the barbarians
against one another, by giving money to such of their
tnbaa as he imagined would make lueful auxiliaries.
This system, which the wealth of the emperors ^from
their possession of all the maritime and trading cities)
oiabled them long to use against their poorer enemies,
often saved the Empire at the expense of its dignity;
for though the money was given at first as a gratuity,
it was sometimes demanded in times of weakness as a
tribute. This Theodosius (commonly called the Great)
was the first who made Christianity the established
religion of the Empire (390). He procured a senatorial
edict in favour of the Christians and their religion,
sanctioned the destruction of the heathen temples, and
forbade the performance of sacrifices, either in public
or private. The Empire under this prince still pre-
served its original extent; but he divided it between
his two sons, Arcadius and Honorius (394), and its
parts were never afterwards reunited.

From the death uf Theodosius II, (449) to the reign
of Justinian (527), the Eastern Empire continued with-
out any considerable alteration, though there were
many changes and intrigues in the court and army.
The reign of the latter prince is memorable on several
accounts : it was under his auspices that a knowledge
of the silk manufacture was first brought to Europe,
where it gave employment to much ingenious industry
(900), Justinian also caused certain eminent lawyers
to prepare a code of laws, and an abridgment of law
decisions, kc. called the Pandects, which were used by
all his successors, and have been adopted as the basis
of their laws by several countries of Europe. With the
■ingle exception of the Code de Napoleon, these form
the only complete and perfect abstract of national law
which anr government has given to it;, "sople (see No,
54). Whatever may have been Justinian's errors, his
having projected this work, and procured so many able
miniatora to execute it, must redound for ever to h.\~
honour. The tale&ti and Tirtaoi of his general fieli-
114

sarins regidned to the Empire Africa and great part of
Italy, from the Vandals and Ostrogoths; this conauest,
however, only prevented the latter region from being
united under one oovemment, and has been the cause
of its remaining a feeble and divided country ever since.
In the reign of Tiberius shortly after (580), the people
of Rome, though they intreated with great earnestness
the aid and pity of the emperor, who now claimed to
rule over them, were unable to obtain any relief, and
remained distracted between their attachment to the
ancient head of the Empire, and the claims of his
enemies who occupied the rest of Italy,

The next emperor who merits attention is Heradius
(610), a native of Afiica, The Eastern Eqipiie had till
now preserved its ancient boundaries in their full ex-
tent, and was mistress of Carthage^ ^^pt, Syria, and
Asia Minor, besides Greece, and the countries on the
Danube. The Roman armies on the eaatem frontier
had, however, been lately driven in by Chosroes, king
of Persia, who now occupied all the north of Africa
and Syria, This was the first great violation of their
territory sustained by the emperors of Constantinople;
and Heraulius aven^ it with a celerity and effect
which ma<1e the Persians tremble. His triumph, bow-
ever, was tiliort, for the latter part of his reign wM dis-
turbed by the rise and victories of Mohammed. The suc-
cessors of this signal impostor, after breaking the power
of Persia (already weakened by i;he victories of Hera-
dius), immediately attacked the Roman Empire; then
defeated its armies in two battles, occupied all Syria,
and obliged the emperor (now an old man) to retire to
Constantinople, He died in 641.

The continued victories of the followers of Mohammed
(called Arabs or Saracens) soon deprived the Empire of
Eg^t, Africa, and Syria; and in 668 they followed up
their success by attacking Constantinople itself. The
city sustained two sieges, m the first of which the S)^*-
cens were encamped in its neighbourhood, and carried
on the operations of a siege at intervals, for seven years;
and in the second, for nearly two. In both the Sara-
cens wasted immense resources inefifectually.

The Empire had now lost all its provinces eastward
of Mount Taurus, and the cities of Alexandria, Jeru-
salem, and Antioch, were in the .hands of the Moham-
medans. There was little further change in its condi-
tion till the year 867, under the Emperor Basil, who
gave new vigour both to the internal administration
and to the military resources of the government. This
prince, and his immediate predecessor Zimisces, made
the Roman arms — for they still wished to be called
Romans — respected on the Euphrates and Tigris, and
asserted th'j ancient warlike reputation and boundiiaries
of the Empire. They were now, however, deprived of
the resources they had enjoyed in the secure possession
of the great commercial cities of the Mediterranean —
Alexandria, Carthage, Cwsarea, &c,; and the trade and
revenues of those which remained were crippled and
diminished, from the want of that free general inter-
course which had existed when they were all under one
government. Hence the armies were maintained with
greater difficulty, and any victories that were gained
could not be followed up with eifect. The early enemies
of the Empire — the Goths, Vandals, and Huns — had
now settled into civilised communities, and were no
longer formidable. The foes with whom it contended
latterly were the Bulgarians and Seljukian Turks; the
former of whom were rather troublesouio than danger-
ous, but the latter, who had succeeded the Saracens in
the dominion of Asia, aimed at nothing short of the
destruction of the Roman name. They succeeded at
last by defeating and taking prisoner the Emperor
Romanus Diogenes, in tearing away almoet the whole
province of Asia Minor (1099); so that the emperors
were now confined to their dominions in Europe,
which, however, still formed a monarchy not much
■mailer than France or Spain.

The manners of the court of Constantinople during
'auch of this period were dissolute and eorrupt. We
ate told of one empctor who ordered a plate of humai*

re no
inded

the
iDger-
insin

the
sd at

mSTOBT OF THB MIDDLE A0E8.

BOMf to be brought to hii table; another waa aocui<
tomed to seize the deputies of cities whose tribute waa
in arrear, and suspend them with their heads down-
wards orer a slow fire; a third got up farces in mockery
of the ceremonies of religion ; and, in general, the ap-
pointment of officers, and even the succession to the
Empire (where it waa not seized by some successful
general), was in the hands of the women and eunuchs
of the palace. The cities and, provinces gene»ll;jr ac-
quiesced as to the choice of an emperor in the decision
of the capital or army; this circumstance shows that
the laws were attended to, and that there was a regular
system of government, which was not much disturbed
by the personal character of the reigning prince. The
countries of Greece, however, which had formerly been
tho seat of knowledge and the arts, were now sunk in
ignorance; and the little learning that was cultivated
in Athens was only scholastic divinity, or the pedantry
of law and grammar. There ia no scholar, or philoso-
pher, or poet of the empire of Constantinople who is
generally known to posterity.

A great change took place in the relations of the
Empire after the eleventh century. It was still pressed
by the Turks on the East, who now occupied Asia Minor,
and were only separated from Constantinople by the
Hellespont; while in Europe its territories were dis-
turbed by the incursions of certain Norman adventurers
who had settled iu Sicily. Against these enemies the
Emperor Claudius Comnenus, an active prince, and
full of resources, made all the rcLl^tance which his di-
minished revenues allowed. He applied to the Chris-
tian sovereigns of Europe to aid him in expelling the
Mohammedans from the territories of the Empire, but
above all, to drive out the Turks from the land of Judea,
which they occupied and profaned, and where they
harassed the Christian pilgruns who desired to visit the
scenes of Scripture history. His appeal was received
in Europe at a time when many concurring causes had
brought the mass of the people to a state of uneasiness
which at once foreboded and rendered necessary some
extensive change in their condition. Countrymen of
their own, pilgrims from the shrine of the tomb of
Christ, had returned and filled them with hoi-ror by a
recital of indignities which Turkish infidels were cast-
ing on those scenes and subjects with which their own
most sacred feelings were associated; and the result
was that extraordinary outpouring of the inhabitants
of Europe upon Asia, which has been termed the Cru-
sades, and to which we shall afterwards advert.

ABABIA — HOBAMMED — EMPIRE OF SHE SARACENS.

It was not before the sixth century that Arabia be-
came peculiarly remarkable in the history of the world.
The wild Arabs, as they have been generally called,
had already signalised themselves by incursions on the
Empire of the East, when Mohammed was born, in the
year 569 (some say, 671) of the Christian era at Mecca,
the principal city of their country. He is said to have
been descended from some great families; but it is cer-
tain that his immediate progenitors were poor, and he
had little education but what his own means and his
own mind could give him. Yet this man became the
founder of a great empire, and the fabricator of a reli-
gion which has continued to our own day to affect
greater numbers of mankind than Christianity itself.
At an early period of lift, we are told, ' he retired to
the desert, and pretended to hold conferences with the
Angel Gabriel, who delivered to him, from time to
time, portions of a sacred book or Koran, containing
revelations of the will of the Supreme Being, and of the
doctrines which he required his prophet (that is, Moham-
med himself) to communicate to the world.' The Mo-
hammedan religion, as the so-called revelations of this
great impostor have since been designated, was a strange
mixture of the superstitions of Arabia, the morality of
Christ, and the rites of Judaism. It was to this happy
mixture of tenets, usages, and traditions already exist-
ing among his countrymen, and to the applicability of
the precepta of the Koraa to all legal transactions and

all the buaineaa of life, that Mohumned aaema to hftTO
owed hia extiaordinaiy auooeas. Othera, indeed, have
attributed thia to certain indulgencea idlowed ia the
Koran; but in reality theae indulmncea exiatod before,
and the book breathes upon the whole aiv austere apirit.
Thia extraordinary work inculcated elevated notiona
of the Divine nature and of moral dutiea : it taught
that Qod'a will and power were conatantly exerted to-
warda the happiness of His oreaturea, and that the duty
of man waa to love his neighboura, assist the poor, pro-
tect the injured, to be humane to inferior animals, and
to pray seven times a day. It taught that, to revive
the impression of those laws which God had engraven
originally in the hearts of men. He had sent hia pro-
phets upon earth— Abraham, Moses, Jesus Christ, uid
Mohammed — the last, the greatest, to whom all the
world should owe its conversion to the true religion. By
producing the Koran in detached parcels, Mohammed
had it in his power to solve all objections by new revela-
tions. It waa only after he was well advanced in years
that his doctrines began to be received. At first, indeed,
they were so violently opposed by his fellow-citizens of
Mecca, that the prophet was obliged to flee from the city
to save his life. This event is called by his followers
Jfegyra, or the Flight : it occurred in the 622d year of
the Christian era; and they reckon dates from it aa we
do from' the birth of Christ (see Chronoloot, Vol. I.).
Mohammed took refuge in the city of Medina, and by
the aid of his disciples there, he was soon able to return
to Mecca at the head of an armed force. TUs enabled
him to subdue those who would not be convinced; and
henceforward he proceeded to make proselytes and sub-
jects together, till at length, being master of all Arabia
and of Syria, his numerous followers saluted him king
(627). This extraordinary man died suddenly, rjid iu
the midst of successes, at the age of sixty-one (632).
Abubeker, hia father-in-law and succsssor, united and
published the books of the Koran, and continued and
extended the empire which Mohammed hod left him

(see MOUAMHEDANISH, No. 76).

A more powerful caliph (such waa the title given to
this series of monarchs) was Omar, the successor of
Abubeker (635). Barbarity, ferocity, and superstition
seem to have been mingled and to have reached their
height in the person of Omar. It was by his order that
the most magnificent library of antiquity, that of Alex-
andria, consisting of 700,000 volumes, was burned to
ashes. The reason which he gave for this act ia worth
preserving : — ' If these writings,' he said, ' agree with
the Koran, they are useless, and need not be preserved;
if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be
destroyed.' By himself and his generals this ferocious
conqueror added' Syria, Phoenicia, Mesopotamia, Chal-
dea, Egypt, Lybia, and Numidia, to his empire. Next
came Otman, and then Ali, the son-in-law of Mohammed
himself. The name of Ali is still revered by Mussul-
mans. His reigu was short, but glorious. ' After some
internal troubles,' says Hallam, ' the Saracens won
their way along the coast of Africa, as far as the pillars
of Hercules, and a third province was irretrievably torn
from the Greek empire. These Western conquests in-
troduced them to fresh enemies, and ushered in more
splendid successes. Encouraged by the disunion of the
Visigoths [in Spain], and invited by treachery, Muza,
the general of a master who sat beyond the opposite
extremity of the Mediterranean Sea, passed over into
Spain, and within about two years the name of Moham-
med was invoked under the Pyreneans.'

Nineteen caliphs of the race of Omar succeeded Ali,
and after these came the dynasty of the Abassydes, de-
scended by the male line from Mohammed. The second
caliph of this race, named Almanzor, removed the seat
of empire to Bagdad (762), and introduced learning
and the culture of the sciences, which his successors
continued to promote with zeal and liberality. This
was some recompense for those indignities which had
been cast upon literature by the brutal Omar. Perhaps
the obligationa of modem Europe to Arabia at this time
have been overstated; but it is not to be denied that

115

CHAMSEBffB INFOBMAHON FOB THE PEOPLE.

€■

leaminK, almost totally excluded aad eitinct in Europe
during the eighth and ninth centuries found an aaylum
hew. It hai been matter of diipnte how the tartw of
theae fierce Arabian, became thu. flrrt directed. They
probably owed it to the Greek»; but it la certain that
what they got they. returned with interest. We are
■aid to deriTO our present arithmetical figures from this
itraDge people; and geometry, astronomy, and ^chemy
were their farourite pursuits. The graces of light lite-
rature were not neglected, as is shown by the One Thou-
Mmd and One Ni|pits' Entertainments, a production of
this period, which still continues to solace the hours of
childhood and old age among ourselves, and attests the
extent of fancy and the variety of genius among those
that gave it birth. Haroun al Raschid, who flourished
in the beginning of the ninth century, is celebrated as
a second Augustus. He was contemporary with Charle-
magne, and communications of a friendly nature are
siJa to have passed between them.

Within fifty years from the death of Mohammed, the
Saracens had raised an empire, not only temporal, but
also spiritual, more extensive and more powerful than
what remained of the empire of Constantinople; and
within a hundred, they had subdued not only Persia,
Syria, Asia Minor, and Arabia, but also Egypt, North
Africa, and Spain. It seemed, indeed, in the course of
the eighth century, as if Asia and Europe both should
yield to their victorious arms, and become one great
Mohammedan dominion. But the mighty fabric, of
mushroom growth, crumbled into dust with equal speed.
After the fin>t extension of their conquests, they ceased
to acknowledge any one head of their empire, and the
successful generals of the provinces contented them-
selves by paying a religious respect to the caliphs of
Bagdat, as the successors of the prophet, while they
retained the power of conquerors for themselves. In
the year 73*2 they sustained a great defeat in France
from Charles Martel, who became the father of an
illustrious race of kings. No fewer than 375,000 Sara-
cens are said to have been left dead on the field of this
battle, and it is certain that they never after cherished
the hope of subduing Europe. About the middle of
the ninth century (U48), they projected the conquest
of Italy, and even laid siege to Rome itself. But they
were entirely repulsed by Pope Leo IV. ; their ships
were dispersed by a storm, and their army cut to pieces.
Spain .was the only European country in which they
were able to obtain a permanent footing, and in it alone
have they left traces of their existence.

FBOX TUB DESTRUCTION OF ROME TO THK AOB OF ClIARLE-
HAONE — ORIGIN OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM.

The Empire of the Ceesars fell in the West only by
degrees, and the changes introduced by the northern
tribes were gradual, though they proved great. Pro-
vince after province yielded to the invaders; and
before the end of the fifth century, every country in
Europe had undergone extensive changes, and received
/ fresh accessions to the number of its inhabitants. The
Visigoths had seated themselves in Spain, the Franks
in Oaul, the Saxons in the Roman provinces of South
Britain, the Huns in Pannonia, and the Ostrogoths in
Italy and the adjacent provinces. And not only had |
they been euablsd to take up their abode, but iu general
they became masters, and changed the face of all that
they touched: 'now governments, laws, languages; new
manners, customs, dresses; new names of men and of
countries, prevailed; and an almost total change took
place in the state of Europe.' That change has been
called a change from light to darkness, and it assuredly
led to the extinction of that taste for literature and
that regular administration of government which were
the relieving features of the Roman despotism. ]]ut
if it thus produced an immediate evil, it led to an ulti-
mate good. The population was reinvigorated by the
admixture of the new races, and from the fresli ele-
ments it had acquired there sprung institutions which
might bo considered as in many respects an improve-
ment upon those that formerly prevailed.
116

It was out of these new drcnmstaaoes that what hai
been called the Feudal System took its rise. This was
a feature in society unknown in former ages. Hitherto
men had been the slaves of individual masters, or, as
in the more celebrated states of antiquity, they were
bound together by the common tie of citizenship, and
owed allegiance to none. Patriotism was their highest
virtue, and all looked upon the state as a parent, to
which, having got support from it, they were bound to
give support in their turn. But in these times the rude
inhabitants of the north had formed little or no concep-
tion of what a state was, and at first they were not
prepared to relinquish their much-cherished individual
freedom in exchange for rights which they thought they
did not need. Changes at length came over them; and
society gradually took new forms. Those who had led
them on to battle, began to be looked upon as their
guardians in peace, Victorious armies, cantoned out
into the countries which they had seized, continued
arranged under their officers, each of whom had a sepa-
rate territory allotted to him, on which he could retain
and support his immediate followers, while the princi-
pal leader had the largest ; and in this way all were
bound in allegiance, both to their immediate superiors
and to their chief, and all were in readiness to be called
out to arms whenever their services were thought to
be required. This 'military chieftainship,' infusing
itself OS an element in the barbarian societies, was the
first advance to anything like civil or social govern-
ment since the extinction of the Roman power. Na-
tions, indeed, were still far from having the advantage
of a regular government. The method of conducting
judicial proceedings, and of administering justice, was
still peculiarly unsettled and uncertain. The autho-
rity of the magistrate was so limited, and the inde-
pendence assumed by Individuals so great, that they
seldom admitted any umpire but the sword. It/was
then that trial by ordeal became universal, and men's
guilt or innocence was thought to be proved by the
capacity of their bodies to withstand the influences of
red-hot iron or boiling water applied to them, or by
their overcoming their accuser in single combat.

These observations are applicable, with scarcely any
variation, to all the nations which settled in Europe
during the fifth and sixth centuries. Speaking of this
subject, Dr Robertson says — 'Though the barbarous
nations which framed it [the Feudal System], settled in
their new territories at different times, came from dif-
ferent countries, spoke various languages, and were
under the command of separate leaders, the 'eudal
policy and laws were estabhshed, with little var'ation,
m every kingdom of Europe. This amazing unifor-
mity hath induced some authors to believe that all
these nations, notwithstanding so many apparent cir-
cumstances of distinction, were originally the same
people. But it may be ascribed, with greater proba-
bility, to the similar state of society and of man-
ners to which they were accustomed in their native
countries, and to the similar situation in which they
found themselves on taking possession of their new
domains,' We shall r.ow offer a few remarks respect-
ing them individually.

No people at this period exhibited a more energetic
character than tho Fianks, a Teutonic race originally
settled on the Lower Rhino and Weser, and who had
acquired their name (freemen) while successfully re-
sisting the Roman power iu an earlier age. About the
year 486, they were under the rule of Clevis, who
achieved the conquest of Gaul by the defeat of tho
Roman governor, and afterwards added Burgundy and
Aquitaine to his dominions — the former by marriage,
and the latter by the forcible expulsion of the Visigoths.
This may ue considered as the foundation of the French
monarchy, Clovis adopted the Christian faith, and
caused his people to follow his example. It is remark-
able that while in war he exercised unlimited power
over his subjects, they shared with him the legislative
authority, meeting annually in the Champs dc Mars to
suggest and delil^rate upon public measures, in the

native
they
uew

aspect-

ergetic
inally

had
,ly re-
ut the

who
of the
y aud
riage,
igoths.
''rench

and
Imark-

Jiower
ative
an to
in tho

raSTORY OF THE MIDDLE AGES.

letttetnent of which the meaneit soldier had equally a
Toice with hit aorereign.

At the death of Clovis in fill, hii four sons dirided
the kingdom, which was afterwards reunited, divided
again, and again united, amidst scenes of tumult and
bloodshed. The line of kings proceeding from Clovis
^called Merovignian from his grandsire Meroveua)
dwindled in time into utter insignificance, while the
chief power was wielded by an important officer, called
the Mayor of the Palace. Among the most remarkable
of these was Pepin Heristal, Duke of Austrasia, who
ruled France for thirty years with great wisdom and
good policy. His son, Charles Martel, who succeeded
to his power, distinguished himself by that ereat vic-
tory over the Saracens (a. d. 732), which checked their
career in Europe.

An appeal by Pepin le Bref, the son of Charles Martel,
to the pope of Rome, whose authority had by this time
become great, ruled that he wh- had the power should
also have the title of king, and this put an end to the
reign of the descendants of Clovis (762). Pepin remu-
nerated the pope for this service by turning his arras
against the Lombards in Italy, some of whose domi-
nions he conferred upon the Holy See; and these, it is
said, were the first of the temporal possessions of the
church. Pepin died (768), leaving two sons, Carloraan
and Charles, who succeeded him in the empire. Carlo-
man died at an early period of life, but Charles (subse-
quently Charlemagne) survived to achieve for himself
a fame far greater than that of any other individual
during the middle ages, with perhaps the single ex-
ception of Mohammed. We shall proceed to speak of
him and of his times, after making one or two observa-
tions on some other European countries.

Spain was among the earliest countries lost to the
Roman Empire. From about the year 406, this country,
in whole or in part, had been successively invaded and
subdued by Suevi, Alans, Vandals, and Visigoths.
The last-named people were in possession of the greater
part of the country before the year 585, and erected a
monarchy which existed till 712, when they were sub-
dued by the Saracens or Moors. The Saracens made
their descent on Spain from Africa, where Muza, li
viceroy of the caliph of Bagdat, had already mode ex-
tensive conquests. They easily overran Spain and van-
quished Don Rodrigo, or Roderic, the last of the Gothi?
kings. Abdallah, son of Muza, married the widow of
Roderic, and the two nations entered into union. Be-
fore the conclusion of the eighth century, Abdalrahman,
one of the Moorish generals, had laid aside all temporal
subjection to the caliph of Bagdat, and formed Spain
into an independent kingdom. His residence was at
Cordova, and this city became renowned as one of the
most enlightened in Europe under several succeeding
reigns. Those parts of Spain which were under the
Moorish kings embraced also their religion. The
northern provinces never owned their dominion.

Towards the conclusion of the sixth century, Italy
was in the possession of the Longobeards, or Lombards,
who continued masters of the greater part of it for two
centuries. Of their rule, history has recorded little
besides murders aud confusion.

It was during this period that the Saxon Heptarchy
was formed in Britain (see No. 59).

At the request of the pope, anid to
discharge the obligations of his f*ther Pepin to the

waste of blood.

CIURLEMAONE — THE NEW WESTERN EMPIRE.

By far the greatest character who appeared in Europe
at this period was Charles, the son of Pepin le Bref,
and known in history by the name of Charlemagne, or
Charles the Great. * In the course of a reign of forty-
five years,' says Mr Tytler, ' Charlemagne extended the
limits of his empire beyond the Danube, subdued
Dacia, Dalmatia, aud Istria, conquered and subiected
all the barbarous tribes to the banks of the Vistula,
made himself master of a great portion of Italy, and
successfully encountered tho arms of the Saracens, the
Huns, the Bulgarians, and the Saxons. His war with
(he Saxons was of thirty gears' duration ; and their
final conquest was not achieved without on inhuman

holy see, Charlemagne, though allied by marriage to
Desiderius, king of the Lombards, diraosaessed that
prince of all his dominions, and put a final period to
the Lombard dominion in Italy (774).'

When Charlemagne made his first entry into Rome,
he was crowned King of France and of the Lombards by
Pope Adrian I.; aud afterwards, on a second visit, he
was consecrated Emperor of the West by the hands of
Pope Leo III. (800). He probably attached some im-
portance to these rites ; but it is to be remarked that,
as vet, the pontiff' was not in the enjoyment of that
high influence by which he afterwards could confer or
withdraw sovereignty at his pleasure.

' It is probable,' continues the authority above quoted,
' that had Charlemagne chosen Rome for his residence
and seat of government, and at his death transmitted
to his successor an undivided dominion, iLst great but
fallen empire might have once more been restored to
lustre and respect ; but Charlemagne had no fixed
capital, and he divided, even in his lifetime, his domi-
nions among his children (806).' Charlemagne died
in the year 814, aged seventy-two. His last days were
employed in consolidating, rather than extending, his
empire, by the making of laws which have rendered his
name famous, and his memory even blessed. * Though
engaged in so many wars,' says Dr Russell, * Charle-
magne was far from neglecting the arts of peace, the
happiness of his subjects, or the cultivation of his own
mind. Government, manners, religion, and letters,
were his constant pursuits. He frequently convened
the national assemblies for regulating the alfairs both
of church and state. In those assemblies he proposed
such, laws as he considered to be of public benefit, and
allovved the same liberty to others; but of this liberty,
indeed, it would have been difficult to deprive the
French nobles, who hod been accustomed, from the
foundation of the monarchy, to share the legislation
with their sovereign. His attention extended even to
the most distant corners of his empire, and to all ranks
of men. He manifested a particular regard for the
common people, and studied their ease and advantage.
The same love of mankind led him to repair and form
public roads ; to build bridges where necessary ; to
make rivers navigable for the purposes of commerce;
and to project that grand canal which would hare
opened a communication between the German Ocean
and the Black Sea, by uniting the Danube and the
Rhine.' Amidst all his greatness, his personal habits
were simple ; his dresu ivas of the plainest sort, and
such even as to shame his own courtiers; his hours of
study were set apart, and seldom omitted even in the
busiest times of his life ; his daughters were taught
spinning and housewifery, and his sons trained by him-
self in all the accomplishments of the age. Charle-
magne was fond of the company of learned men, and
greatly encouraged their residency in his dominions.
In this respect he resembled his contemporary Haroun
al Raschid, so famous in Arabian history, and Alfred
the Great, who appeared in England shortly after this
period. Superior to all national prejudice, he elevated
an Englishman named Alcuin to the head of his royal
academy. He was zealous for the extension of Chris-
tianity; and one of the few blots upon his name arises
from his having, in the spirit of his age, cat sed 4000
Saxon prisoners to be beheaded in one day, because
they would not submit to be baptized. Charlemagne
established schools in the cathedrals and principal
abbeys, for the teaching of writing, arithmetic, gram-
mar, logic, and music.

Of the sons of Charlemagne, Louis, the youngest,
surnamed the JDebonnaire, or gentle, was the only one
who survived. He succeeded to all his father's domi-
nions, except Italy, which fell into the hands of Ber-
nard, a grandson of Charlemagne. Louis, deficient in
vigour of character, was unable to hold together the
great empire left to him by his father. Having, among
the first acts of his reign, given large portions of it to

117

OHAMBIBS'S nrFOBMATION FOB TBI PEOPLE.

hk oUldran. the remainder of U« lift wm ipent in dii'
graceful qiuneli with themi Mid »fte» hii de»th (840),
the empire wm formally diTidod—Lothaire, hii eldeit
■on, obteining Lormine and Protence} while Chwlei
the B»ld, » yoancer iod, continued MTereign of the
weitem parts of France: and Louie became Icing of
German/. Thue abruptly terminatei the hiitory of
the Noond weitem empire.

FBANOK FBOM IBB TIU OF CHARLES IBB BALD 10 IBB

KLBrBina cbnidrt.
During the reign of Charles the Bald, France Ant
■ufikred Aom the attaclcs of the Normans, a race of
bold and needy adrenturen from the north of Europe.
Their plundering invasions were continued for upwards
of lerenty years; till at length (912) the Frenon Icing
was compelled to purchase toeir amity by yielding to
Rollo their leader the country afterwards from them
called Normandy, of which Rouen was the capital. The
first successor of Charles the Bald with whose name
history has associated anything worth remembering,
was Charles, surnamed the Fat (885). He was the son
of that Louis to whom Germany had been before as-
signed, and was thus enabled to bring that country
and France for a short time once more under n single
ruler. In the turbulence of the times Charles was
soon deposed; and during the century which followed,
France, ao lately the centre of an empire little !esB than
that of Rome in the days of its Csesars, was split up

conqaered England, when their leader, WUliam, Dnka
of Normandy, became — as detailed in a subsequent
number — the founder of an important dynasty.

TBB OBBMAN EHFI&K IILL IBB BLBTERIH CBNTURY.

Germany had no political existence till the time of
Charlemagne, when it was formed by him into a port
of the western empire. Towards the conclusion of the
ninth century it became an empire of itself. In the
year 887, Amuld, a natural son of Carloman, and
nephew of Charles the Fat^ was declared emperor by an
assembly of bishops and nobles. These assemblies in
Germany always retained a voice in the election of
their emperors ; and though they often made their
ohcice from the line of succession, they nerer acknow-
ledged auv hereditary riehts whatever. After the
death of Arnold's son, called Louis III., their choice
foil upon Conrad, Duke of Franconia (012). Conrad's
successor was Henry I., surnamed the Fowler. He was
a prince of great abilities, and introduced order and
good government into the empire. 'He united the
grandees and curbed their usurpations; built, embel-
lish»'<, and fortified cities ; and enforced with great
rigour the execution of the laws in the repression of all
enormities. He had been consecrated by his own bidiops,
and maintained no correspondence with the see of Rome.
His son, Otho the Great, who succeeded him (988),
united Italy to the Empire, and kept the popedom in
complete subjection. He made Denmark tributary to

l|l^ ' into a multitude of independencies, by noi)leB who would I I'^e imperial crown, annexed the crown of Bohemia to
own only a very slender subjection to the Icings. Out his own dominions, and seemed to aim at a paramount

of these nobles at lost sprang Hugh Capet (987), who
was enabled, on the death of Louis V., to place himself
on the throne. He was already possessed of great pro-
perty, and proved to be aUo a prince of much abuity
and penetration. He established the royal residence
at Paris, which his predecessors had deserted, and
became the founder of a family which, in one of its
branches, occupied the throne of France till the over-
throw of monarchy in 1848. He deserves to be men-
tionetl with honour, as being among the first of European
kings who trusted to prudence, counsel, and modera-
tion, rather than force of arms, in ciTecting his purposes.
On his death (996), in the flfly-seventh year of his
age and the tenth of his reign, he was succeeded by his
son Robert, who had all his father's equitable disposi-
tion without his vigour of character. He was subjected
to a degree of tyranny on the part of the church of
which perhaps the history of the world does not afix)rd
such another example. Robert had been guilty of
marrying a cousin in the fourth degree without a dis.
petuation from the Holy See — that is, without paying a
fine for what was only an imaginary offence. Gregory
v., who then occupied the pontificial chair, threatened
to excommunicate Robert if he should not dismiss his
wife, and, on Robert's refusal, actually did so, and laid
all his dominions under an interdict. This punishment
proveu tremendous in its effects; for though the king
niraself showed sense and courage enough to despise
the wrath of the pontiff, yet his subjects deserted him
in terror. The priests, in consequence of the interdict,
refused sacrament to the sick all over the country, and
the dead Mrere everywhere lefl unburied, when moss
was no longer aaid. In these circumstances the un-
fortunate king submitted. A second marriage, con-
tracted with the consent of the church, proved very
unhappy. The new queen, Constantia, or Constance,
made many efforts to embroil her husband and his
family, and in the midst of these Robert died (1031).
His son Henry succeeded, and it was during his reign
that those pilgrimages to the Holy Land, which were
io soon to end in the Crusades, took their rise. Of
these we shall speak by themselves. In the meantime
we take leave of France by mentioning that Henry's
successor was Phiiip (1060), whose reign is remarkable
as having witnessed the beginning of those contests with
England which continued at intervals till the early
part of the nineteenth century.
At this period (1066) the Normans invaded and

authority over all the sovereigns of Europe.'

In these times the papacy was much disordered.
' Forraosus, twice excommunicated by Pope John VHI.,
had himself arrived at the triple crown. On his death,
his rival, Pope Stephen VII., caused his body to be dug
out of the grave, and after trial for bis crimes, con-
demned it to be flung into the Tiber. The friends of
Formosus fished up the corpse, and had interest to proo-
cure the deposition of Stephen, who was strangled in
prison. A succeeding pope, Sergius III., aguin dug up
the ill-fated carcase, and once more threw it into the
river. Two infamous women, Marosia and Theodora,
managed the popedom for many years, and filled the
chair of St Peter with their own gallants or their adul-
terous offspring.' — Tytler. It was amidst this confusion
and these disturbances that Otho waa induced to turn
his arms on Italy. He shortly became master of it all,
and had himself declared emperor by the Holy See,
with all the pomp that had attended the same cere-
mony to Charlemagne (962). Pope John XII., whom
Otho had been the means of raising to the pontificial
chair, rebelled soon after. Otho returned to Rome in
fury, had John deposed, hanged one-half of the senate
before he left the city, and wrung a solemn acknow-
ledgment from an assembly of reluctant bishops, that
the emperor had a right not only to nominate to vacant
bishoprics, but also to elect the pope himself. Otho
died (972), and wao followed in succession by Otho II.,
Otho III., St Henry, Conrad II., and Henry III., the
history of whose reigns exhibits tiothing instructive, or
upon which the mind can rest with pleasure. Henry
IV. (1056) was a distinguished victim of papal tyranny.
The celebrated Hildebrand, known as Gregory VII.,
was in this age the means of raising the power of the
church to a height which it had never reached before.
During Henry's contest with this daring and ambitious
pontifij he made him twice his prisoner, and twice did
the thunders of the Vatican excommunicate and depose
him in consequence. As a specirjen of the power and
insolence of this pope, we may mention that Henry,
dispirited by the effect which his excommunication had
upon his friends and followers, having resolved to go
to Romo and ask absolution from Gregory in personj
did so; and presenting himself as a humble penitent
at the palace of St Peter, was there stripped of his
robes, and obliged to remain in that condition, in an
outer court, in the month of January (1077), barefooted,
among snoW) and fasting, for three succenive days,

a
tl

HIBTORT OF THE UIDDLB AQB8.

enry,
nhad
to go
inoDi
itent
f hia
in Ml
loted,
dayi,

Won Im wm tUlvmi to iinnloM forgircneM for hii '
offoncM I On th« fourth dky he wm permitted to kin
the tov of hii holineii, and then received abeolution I
Henry died in 1106.

ITALY FROM THE NINTH TO THE ELEVENTH CEMTUBV*

The state of Italy daring thii period hae been already
partialW noticed in the preceding lection. From the
time of Lothaire, to whom it wai nominally aaeigned
ae a leparatc kingdom (B43), to that of Otho the Oreat
(964), the country was ravaged by contending tvrants.
Between the invasions of the Normans rn the one
hand, and the claims of the German emperors on the
other, it became much distracted, and was ultimately
split up into several independent states. Some of these,
particularly Venice, Genoa, Pisa, and Florence, became
afterwards independent and powerful republics. It was
during this per<od that the foundation of the temporal
power of the popes was laid.

SPAIN FaOM IHK TIME OF ABDALHAHMAN TILL THE
ELEVENTH CENTURY.

During the period of which we have boen treating,
Spain seemed less a part of Europe than any other
country in it. The greater part of it still continued
under the dominion of the Moors, and apparently with
advantage. ' This period,' says Mr Tytler, * from the
middle of the eighth to the middle of the tenth century,
is a most brilliant era of Arubian magnificence. Whilst
Haroun al Raschid made Bagdat illustrious by the
splendour of the arts and sciences, the Moors of Cor-
dova lied with their brethren of Asia in the same
honourable pursuits, and were undoubtedly at this
period the most enlightened of the states in Europe.
Under a series of able princes, they gained the highest
reputation, both in arts and ums, of all the nations of
the West.' And yet these Eastern conquerors seem to
have had their troubles aa well as others. A race of
powerful nobles among them, as in the other countries
of Europe, distracted the country, and made effective
government impossible. The Christian part of the
population, still possessed of several provinces in the
north, might have taken advantage of such a state of
things for repossessing themselves of their lost country;
but civil dissension waa still greater among themselves;
and Christian princes readily formed alliances with the
Moors, if they saw a prospect of weakening an imme-
diate enemy by that means, forgetting that the common
foe still remained to harass t^em. But th<> detail of
these numerous and petty contentions need not detain
us longer ; nor does the history of Spain assume any
imiMrtanoe till towards the conclusion of the fifteenth
century, when the united arms of Ferdinand and Isa-
bella expelled the Moors for ever from the country.

QXNEBAL STATE OF EDKOPE IN THE ELEVENTH CENTimY.

Before the end of the tenth century, Europe had
reached a point of darkness and degradation beyond
which it seemed impossible to go. Though long nomi-
nally converted to the Christian religion, the nations
of Europe may be said to have scarcely exhibited, up
to this period, a single distinctive mark of what men
understand by Christian civilisation. * The barbarous
nations,' says Dr Robertson, ' when converted to Chris-
tianity, changed the object, not the spirit of their reli-
gious worship. They endeavoured to conciliate the
uvour of the true God by means not unlike to those
which they had employed in order to appease their
false deities. Instead of aspiring to sanctity and
virtue, which alone can render men acceptable to the
great Author of order and of excellence, they imagined
that they satisfied every obligation of duty by a scru-
pulous observance of external ceremonies. Religion,
according to their conception of it, comprehended no-
thing else; and the rites by which they persuaded
Uieniselves that they should gain the favour of Heaven,
were of such a nature as might have ' been expected
from the rude ideas of the ages which devised and in-
troduced them. They wetv aither so uumeaming as to

be altogether anworthy of the Being to whose konoor
they were consecrated, or so absurd as to be a disgraot
to reason and humanity. Charlemagne in France, and
Alfred the Great in England, endeavoured to dispel
this darkness, and gave their subjects a short glimpse
of light and knowledge. But the ignorance of the age
wa4 too powerful for their efibrts and institutions. The
darkness returned, and settled over Europe more thick:
and heavy than before.' The clergr were the only
body of men among whom any knowledge or learning
now remained; and this superiority they employed to
continue, if not to deepen, the degradation into which
society had fallen. The superstitious belief that moral
crimes could be expiated by presents to the Deity, if
not originated by them, at least found them its stre-
nuous defenders, for the reason that a gift to God
meant, in plainer language, a toialium to the church.
The priests would have made men believe that avarice
was the t,rgt attribute of the Deity, and that the saints
made a traffic of their influence with Heaven. Hence
Clovis is said to have jocularly remarked, that ' though
St Martin served his friends very well, he (dfo maide
them pay well for his trouble.'

Persons in the highest ranks and most exalted sta>
tions could neither read nor write. Of the clergy
themselves, many of them did not understand the Bre-
viary which it was their duty to recite; and some of
them, it is asserted, could scarcely read it. Those
among the laity who had to express their assent in
writing, did so by a sign of the cross attached to the
document (sometimes also by a seal) ; and to this day,
in consequence, we speak of signing a document when
we subscribe our names.

The evils of the feudal system, too, had by this time
become excessive and insupportable. Every petty chief
was a king in his own dominions, and lus vassals
were his subjects, if indeed they should not be called
slaves. These barons made laws of their own, held
courts of their own, coined money in their own names,
and levied war at their own pleasure against their ene<
mies; and these enemies were not unfrequently their
kings. Indeed the kings of these times can be looked
upon in no other light than as superior lords, receiving
a nominal and empty homage for lands which, in the
fictitious language of feudal law, were said to be held
of the crown. In these circumstances, what might we
expect to be the condition of the great body of the
people! They were either actual slaves, or exposed
to so many miseries, arising from pillage and oppres-
sion, that many of them mode a voluntary surrender of
their lil>erty in exchange for bread and protection from
the feudal lords. There wot no people, as that term is
now understood. * There was nothing morally in com-
mon,' says Guizot, 'between the lord and the serfs;
they formed part of his domains, and were his pro-
perty ; under which designation were comprised til
the lights that we at present call rights of public
sovereignty, as well as the privileges of private pro-
perty; he having the right of giving laws, of imposing
taxes, and of inflicting punishment, as well as that of
disposing and selling. In fact, as between the lord
and the labourers on his domain, there were no recog-
nised laws, no guarantees, no society, at least so far
as may be predicated of any state in which men are
brought into contact.' In what way society rose above
so many accumulated evils, and light sprang from so
much darkness, we shall now endeavour to show. The
most remarkable and the most lasting influence, beyond
all question, was that exerted by

THE CRUSADES.

' It is natural to the human mind,' says Dr Robert-
son, ' to view those places which have been distinguished
by bang the residence of any celebrated personage,
or the scene of any great transaction, with some degree
of delight and veneration. To this principle must be
ascribed the superstitious devotion with which Chris-
tians, from the earliest ages of the church, were accus-
tomed to visit that country which the Almighty had

119

OHAHBBBM INfOBMAnOK VOR THl PKOFLE.

Mleot«d M th« inheritanee of hit fliToiirite woplf . ud
in which the Son of God h«l •ccompllriiod the redemp-
tion of mukind. Ai thii dirtMt ftilgrimage conid not
be performed without ooniider»ble expenee, fatigue,
sod danger, it appeared the more meritoriouf, and came
to be eonndered at an expiation for almoit erery crime.
An opinion which ipread with rapidity oyer Europe
about the cloee of the tenth \nd beginning of the
elerenth oentuiy, and which gained unirenal credit,
wonderfully augmented the number of credulous pil-
grimf, and inoMied the ardour with which they under-
took thii uMlen royage. The thouaand yean men-
tioned by St John [Her. xx. 2, 3, 4] were luppoied to
be accoropliilied, and the end of the world to be at
hand. A general conatemation leized mankind; roanpr
lelinquished their pouessions, and, abandoning their
friendi and families, hurried with precipitation to the
Holy Land, where they imagined that Christ would
quickly appear to judge the world.*

While Palestine continued subject to the caliphs,
they had encouraged the resort of pilgrims to Jeru-
salem, and considered this as a beneficial (.pecies of
commerce, which brought into their dominions gold and
silyer, and carried nothing out of them but relics and
consecrated trinkets. But the Turks haying con-
quered Syria about the middle of the eleyenth century,
pilgrims were exposed to outrages of every kind from
these fierce barbarians. This change happening pre-
cisely at the juncture when the panic terror which I
haye menticjied rendered pilgrimages most frequent,
filled Europe with alarm and indignation. Eyery per-
son who returned from Palestine related the dangers
which he had encountered in visiting the holy city,
mud described with exaggeration the cruelty and rela-
tions of the infidel Turks.'

Among the most notorious of those who had returned
with these accounts, was a monk known by the name
of Peter the Hermit. By all accounts this individual
•eems to hare been a weak-minded and contemptible
being. He is represented as running from city to
citT, and from kingdom to kingdom, bareheaded, with
naked arms and legs, and bearing aloft a ponderous
crucifix in his hand, imploring and preaching with an
enthuciastic madness on the neceusity of wresting the
Holy Land from the hands of the infidels. In a more
enlightened age, Peter the Hermit would probably have
been confined as a troublesome lunatic ; in this, however,
ha was not only allowed to go on, but encouraged and
abetted in his career. The ambitious Hildebrande had
expressed a strong desire to send armed forces from Eu-
rope to exterminate the Mohammedans from Palestine,
in order that another country might be brought under
his spiritual subjection ; and Urban II., who at this time
occupied the chair of St Peter, warmly seconded the
efforts of the enthusiastic monk. Nor was Peter's suc-
cess small. Vast multitudes proclaimed themselves
ready to engage in the undertaking. Two great coun-
cils of the church, one of them held at Placentia, and the
other at Clermont, in Auvergne, attended by prelates,
princes, and immense multitudes of the common people,
declared enthusiastically for the war (1095). The pope
himself attended at the last, and Peter and he having
both addressed the multitude, they all exclaimed, as if
impelled by an immediate inspiration, ' It is the will of
God t it is the will of God 1' These words were thought
■o remarkable, that they were afterwards employed as
the motto on the sacred standard, and came to oe looked
upon as the signal of battle and of rendezvous in all the
future exploits of the champions of the cross. Persons
of all ranks now flew to arms with the utmost ardour.
The remission of penance, the dispensation from those
practices which superstition imposed or suspended at
pleasure, the absolution of all sins, and the assurance of
* Mr Hallam mentions, ■■ corroborati fe of this general belief,
that oharten at this period niually oommenoed with these words :
' As the world is now drawing to its close ;' and that an army,
marching under the Emperor Otho I., was m> tenrlfled by an
eclipse of the sun, whiofa It conceived to announce this oonsum-
nutthm, OS to disperse hasUIy on all sides.
12U

etamid felicity, were the rewaidt held out by the church
to all who joined the enterprise : and ' to the more
vulgar oiasa,* says Mr Hallam, * were held out induce-
ments which, thoagh absorbed in the orerruling fana-
ticism of the first Crusade, might be exceedingly
efficacious when it began to flag. During the time that
a Crusadei' bore the cross, he was free from suits for hit
debts, and the interest of them was entirely abolished;
he was exempted, in some instances at least, from taxes,
and placed under the protection ef the church, so that
he could not be implesided in any ciril court,, except in
criminal charges or questions relating to land.'

It was in the sprmg of the year 1096 that Peter
set out for Judea, at the head of a promiscuous as-
sembUge of 80,000 men, with sandals on his feet, a
rope about his waist, and erery other mark of monkish
austerity. Soon after, a more numerous and better
disciplined force of 200,000 followed, including some
able and experienced leaders. Godfrey of Bouillon,
Robert, Duke of Normandy (son of William the Con-
queror of England), the Counts of Vermendois, Toulouse,
and Blois, are a few of the more illustrious. The pro-
gress of this immense mass of human beings on their
journey was marked by misery and famine. They had
vainly trusted to Heaven for a supernatural supply of
their wants, and in their disappointment they plundered
all that came in their way. * So many crimes and so
much misety,' says Mr Hallam, ' have seldom been
accumulated in so short a space, as in the three years
of the first expedition ; ' and another historian says, that
a 'fresh su]iply of German and Italian vagabonds,'
received on the way, were even guilty of pillaging the
churches. It is certain that before the hermit reached
Constantinople, the number of his forces had dwindled
down to 20,000. Alexia Comnenus, then emperor of
Constantinople, who had applied to the states of Europe
for assistance, without much hope of obtaining it, in
order that he might be enabled to resist a threatened
attack by the Turks upon himself, was surprised and
terrified at the motley group of adventurers who hod
now reached the shore of his dominions. He readily
afforded them the means of transporting themselves
ivcross the Bosphorus, and performed the same friendly
office to the larger force which followed under Godfrey
and others; glad, apparently, to have the barbarians of
the north, as his subjects called them, out of his domi-
nions. The Sultan Solyman met the army of the her-
mit, if army it could be called, and cut the greater part
of it to pieces on the plains of Nicea. The second nost
proved more successful. In spite of their want of disci-
pline, their ignorance af the couutty, the scarcity of
provisions, and the excess of fatigue, their zeal, their
bravery, and their irresistible force, en;.,bled them twice
to overthrow old Solyman, to take his capital Nice, and
after an obstinate resistance, the city of Antioch also
(1098). At length (1099) they reached Jerusalem,
much diminished in numbers, and broken in spirit ;
but with persevering assiduity they proceeded to lay
siege to the city, and in six weeks they became its
masters. Their cruel conduct to the inhabitants attests
the barbarous feelings of their hearts. ' Neither arms
defended the valiant, nor submission the timorous; no
age nor sex was spared ; infants on the breast were
pierced by the same blow with their mothers, who im-
plored for mercy; even a multitude of ten thousand
persons, who had surrendered themselves prisoners and
were promised quarter, were butchered in cold blood
by these ferocious conquerors. The streets of Jerusalem
were covered with dead bodies. The triumphant war-
riors, after every enemy was subdued and slaughtered,
turned themselves, with the sentiments of humiliation
and contrition, towards the holy sepulchre. They threw
aside their arms, still streaming with blood; they ad-
vanced with reclined bodies and naked feet and heads
to that sacred monument; they sung anthems to Him
who had purchased their salvation by His death and
iwony; and their devotion, enlivened by the presence
of the place where He had suffered, to overcame their
fury, that they diuolred iu tears, and bore the appear-

HISTORY OF TOE MIDDLB AOI».

MM of ctny Mft and tondw Mntiment. So incon-
■ittent !■ human nature with itaelf, and lo eaaily doM
the moet effeminate lupentition ally both with the
most beroio conrafe and with the fiercest barbarity I'

With a becoming foresight, the Crusaders established
a Christian kingdom in the heart of Palestine; and at
the head of it, by universal consent, was pla<--ed God-
frey, whose sooduess and justice had signalised him,
and gained nim respect in the midst of the general
wickedness. The pope, however, was too easer to enjoy
the triumph to which he had looked forward, and send-
ing in ignorant and obtruding ecclesiastic to assume
this command, Godfrey retired; and thus was lost un-
doubtedly the best chanco that Europeans ever had of
really possessing the Holy Land. The Turks had now
time to recover their strength and renew their attacks :
they did so: many of the Crusaders bad in the mean-
time returned home, and those of them who remained,
surrounded and menaced by such foes, at last implored
aid from Christendom. There the spirit which had
been raised by Peter the Hermit was far from being
extinguished ; and another, more eloquent and more
learned than Peter — namely, St Bernard — had arisen to
keep alive the flame of devotion. Housed by his preach-
ings, Europe sent forth a second Crusade (1147). It
consisted of 200,000 French, Germans, and English, in
two divisions, the first led on by Conrad III. of Ger-
many, and the second by Louis VII. of France.
Strangely enough, both these leaders permitted them-
selver to be drawn into a snare by false guides, fur-
nished by the Greek emperor ; and both armies, one
after another, were withdrawn amidst the roclis of
Laodicea, and after being nearly starved by famine,
they were cut to pieces by the Sultan of Iconium.
This Crusade proved the most disastrous of them all.
* Thousands of ruined families,' says Russell, ' ex-
claimed against St Bernard for his deluding prophecies:
he excused himself by the example of Moses, who, like
him, he said, had promised to conduct the Israelites
into a happy country, and yet saw the first generation
[lerish in the desert.'

It was shortly aftor this period that the illustrious
Saladin appeared (1180). Born among an obscure
Turkish tribe, this individual fixed himself by his
bravery and conduct on the throne of Egypt, and began
to extend his conquests in the East. The still existing,
though wretchedly-supported kingdom of the Christians
in Palestine, proving an obstacle to the procrcss of his
anns, Saladin directed his power against it, and as-
sisted by the treachery of the Count of Tripoli, he com-
pletely overcame the Christians in battle (1187). The
noly city itself fell into his hands after a feeble resist-
ance ; and except some cities on the coast, nothing
remained to the Christians of all that, a century before,
it had cost Europe so much to acquire. The followers
ef the cross . however, were not yet wholly disheartened ;
and a third great Crusade was entered mto before the
end of the twelfth century.

The three greatest sovereigns of Europe — Frederick
Barbarossa of Germany, Philip Augustus of France,
and Richard Coeur de Lion of England — all took part
in the scheme. The forces of Frederick were earliest
in the field. He had passed through the unfriendly
territories of tlie Greek empire, crossed the Hellespont,
and defeated the infidels in several battles, before
Richard or Philip had stirred from home. The Chris-
tians of the East were beginning to look with hope and
pride on so great assistance; but they seemed fated to
be unfortunate. Frederick died (1190) from having
thrown his body, heated by exertion, into the cold
river of Cydnus ; and his army, like the others that
had gone before it, dwindled into nothing. The united
armies of Richard and Philip followed. In their pro-
gress, the feelings of envy and national hatred rose
above the object which hod brought them together.
Philip returned, disgusted or dismayed, shortly alter
they reached their destination ; and Richard was thus
left alone to uphold the glory of European anns. He
did it nobly. With a mixed army of French, German,

and English loldiers, amounting in all to !)0,000,
Richard performed feats of valour which have not been
surpaMsd in the history of any time or nation. On the
plams of Asealon, a tremendous battle wai fought with
Saladin, and that brave and great man was defeated,
and 40,000 of his soldiers are said to have been left
dead upon the field of battle. But (**' conquest was
unavailing, and the followers of Rich ^gan te fear
that there would be no end to their ...ug^les. The
zeal which had brought so many of them trom their
homes, and sustained them so long in abaenoe, at last
abated. Saladin readily concluded a treaty by which
Christians might still be permitted to visit the tomb of
Christ unmolested, and Richard left the Holy Land for
ever. It is due to the memory of Saladin (who did not
long survive this period) to state that, after he made
himself master of Jerusalem, he never molested the
Christians in their devotions — a circumstance which, by
contrast, reflects infinite disgrace on the cruel barba-
rities of the first Crusaders. In his last will he ordered
alms to be distributed among the poor, without distinc-
tion of Jew, Christian, or Mohammedan ; intending by
this bequest to intimate that all men are brethren, and
that when we would assist them, we ought not to in-
quire what they believe, but what they feel — an admir-
able lesson to Christians, though from a Mohammedan,
But the advantages in science, in moderation, and
humanity, seem at this period to have been all on the
side of the Saracens.

There were no more great Crusades. Considerable
bands of private adventurers still continued to move
eastward ; but disaster and disgrace attended every
efibrt, and Europe at last became disheartened when
the bones of two millions of her sous lay whitened on
the plains of Asia, and so little had been accomplished,
Nevertheless, in the year 1202, Baldwin, Count of
Flanders, was able to raise another consideiabl* army
for the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre; but having
reached Constantinople at a timn when there was a
dispute in the succession to the throne, he readily laid
aside the project of the Crusade, took part in the quar-
rel, and in the course of five months he was himself the
emperor. The citizens of Venice in Italy, who had lent
their vessels for this enterprise, shared iu the triumphs
of the piratical Crusaders : they obtained the Isle of
Candia, or Crete. Baldwin, however, was soon driven
from the throne, and murdered; though the Latins, as
his successors from the West were called, kept posses-
sion of Constantinople for fifty-seven years.

At this period (1227) agreat revolution took place in
Asia. Ghenghis Khan, at the head of a body of Tartars,
broke down from the north upon Persia and Syria, and
massacred indiscriminately Turks, Jews, and Christians,
who opposed them. The European settlements in Pales-
tine must soon have yielded to these invaders, had not
their fate been for awhile retarded by the last attenpt
at a Crusade under Louis IX. of France. This prince,
summoned, as he believed, by Heaven, after four years'
preparation set out for the Holy Land with his queen,
his three brothers, and all the knights of France (1248).
His arm}' began their enterprise, and we may say ended
it also, by an unsuccessful attack on Egypt, The king
went home, and reigned prosperously and wisely for
thirteen years; but the same frenzy again taking (tos-
session of him, he embarked on f» Crusade against the
Moors in Africa, where his army was destroyed by a
pestilence, and he himself became its victim (1270),

Before the end of the thirteenth century (1291) the
Christians were driven out of all their Asiatic posses-
sions, ' The only common enterpriie,' says Robertson,
' iu which the European nations were engaged, and
which they all undertook with equal ardour, remains a
singular monument of human folly,'

INSTITUTION OF CHIVALBT — STATE OF KUBOPE DUKINa
AND AFTER THE CRUSADES.

Among the most remarkable institutions of the
middle ages was that of Chivalry. The institution
was certainly not the result of caprice, nor a source of

121

OHAltBSHra nriOBlCATIOK fOR IBM PEOPLE.

ttttmiiadntmTacUM, •• U hw bm wprMWiW, bul
•n tSbrt of hunuui nrtuw 4o npnm Ito ft*""!*, «f
loTt, honour, uid bwierolono^ »* » »l^ ""^ H*? "^
of llbortT WM oitingulihid, wid religion had become
debMMl. The fiiudAl ittte wm • •»«*«^»f perpeiu^
WW, nplDe» Md wiMohy. during which ibewe^ •«»«
unumii WW often e.poied to Injuries Public pro-
teotlT* Uw •c.wely hi>d ««> exlilence; Mid in thoM
oiNumetMOM MdeUnoe came ofteneet »nd moit enec-
tUAllT fVom the wmi of private friendi. It wm the
tftine feeling of courage, united to » itrong eeue of
duty, which both g»Te riie to ohiralry, uid led tuch
multitudee to Join the CruMdee. Chivalry esieted be-
fyn them. Mid it lurrlTed them. Thow who deroted
themMlTM to » life of chiTklry were called knighti, and
■ometimef knight-errantt, in alluiion to their nabiti of
wandering fW>m one country to another in learoh of
helpleee objecta, which their generosity might find a

Sleaeure in relieving and defending. Admiulon to
it order of knighthood wai long reckoned an honour
of the higheet tort; and to fulfil the towi which
entrantf took upon them might well be considered so.
They were bound, • by God, by St Michael, and St
Oeoige,' to be loyal, brave, and hardy; to protect
the hinocent, to ndress the injuries of the wronged;
and, above all, to uphold and defend the characters of
women. The institution of chivalry is sometimes
thought to have thrown an air of ridioulousi ess upon
eveiything connected with the aofler sex, and some of
the vagaries of knight-errantry gave sufficient counte-
nance to such a supposition ; but on the whole we are
bound to rate its Neneficial influences in elevating the
female character high indeed, when we contrast the
gross and grovelling situation held by the sex in former
times with ih<3 high and virtuous emotions that we hare
learned to aasociate in modem times with the name of
woman. If the whole of this effect is not to be ascribed
to chivalry, not a little of it must certainly be so; nor
do its beneficial effects end here. The feelings of honour,
oourtesv, and humanity, which distinguished it, spread
themselves into other parts of conduct. War, in par-
ticular, was conducted with less ferocity, and humanity
came to be deemed as necessary to an accomplished
soldier as courage. The idea of a gentleman is wholly
the production of chivalry; and during the twelfth,
thirteeath, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, a sense
of honour and a refinement of manners towards ene-
miee sprung up, which have extended to modem times,
and form a distinguishing feature of them.

The history of the Crusades has carried us over
nearly two centuries of the history of Europe. But
Europe might be said, almost without exaggeration, to
have been then in Asia. It was certainly not the scene
of any transaction of importance during all that period.
The numerous quarrels, both public and private, which
had before agitated the several countries, and had con-
stituted all toeir history, gave way, by mutual consent,
as well as by the orders of the church, to the one idea
which then reigned supreme among them. Society was
thus unconsciously the means of permitting some of
those powerful and pacific principles to come into play,
which were soon to give it a new destiny. The absence
of so many greivt barons during the time of the Cru-
sades, was a means of enabling the common people, who
had hitherto lived as their slaves, to raise themselves
in public standing and estimation; while the possessions
of many of these barons, by sale or the death of their
owners without heirs, reverted to the sovereigns. In
this way the power of the people and of royalty ad-
vanced together, and both at the expense of the class of
nobility. The people were not unwilling to exchange the
mastery of inferiors for that of a superior; and the kings,
on their part, looked on this rising power of the people
with pleasure, as it offered a shield to protect them from
the msolenoe of the nobles. In these circumstances
boroughs began to flourish. This was a new element in
the progress of civilisation. Men who had hitherto
skulked ia castles, and had sacrificed their liberties and
their lives for bread and protMtion from Uolatad ohitA,
132

now found thai, br a union among thamtelvM, tkajr
might seottie bread by industry, and proteolion and
liberty by mutual aid. Multitudes, thmfore, fonook
their feudal subsarrienoe to aqjoy indsp«nd«nt oitism-
ship. Villeins, or laboureit, Jonkilly eaoapad, to take
their plaoe on a footing of equality with iraemen; and
sovereigns found means to pass a law that, if a sLaTt
should take refuge in any of the now dties, and ba
allowed to remain there unclaimed for a twelvemonth,
he had thereby become free, and was henoaforth a
member of the oommunity. Another imprortment
which kings were able to introduoe about this time was
the gradual abolition of minor courts of justice, whioh
barons had previously held in their several domains,
and their getting public and universal law administered
by judges of their own appointment. Even single com-
bat, the practice most inveterately adluivd to of any
among the ancient nobles, became less fk«quent and
leas honourable. The more revolting and absani fe»>
turos of it were wholly abolished, though the great ab-
surdity, and indeed the great crime itself, cannot ba
said to have become totally extiLot, even up to our own
day, when we recollect that the barbarous practice of
duelling is still permitted to exbt.

The effect, however, produced by the Crusades, whioh
proved greatest in its consequences, though perhaps it
was the most unlocked for at the time, was the rise of
commerce. The first of thesf< expeditions had journeyed
to Constantinople by laud; but the suffinings were so

freat, that all the rest were induced to go by sea. The
talian cities of Venice, Qenoa, and Pisa, furnished the
vessels which conveyed them ; and the sums of money
obtained for the freight of so many and so great armies
were immense. This, however, was but a small part
of what the Italian citizens gained by the expeditions
to the Holy Land. The Crusaders contracted with
them for military stores and provisions; and any of the
Asiatic possessions of value, which came temporarily
into the hands of the Christians, became emporiums of
commerce for them. The sweet reward of labour was
thus first felt for ages in Europe. New arts wer«
brought from the East, and many of those natural pro-
ductions of the warmer climates were first 'iUt;''.)duoed
into the West, which have since aflTorded tL( i e,terials
of a lucrative and extended oommer^u. We <«<.U allude
in a separate section to the brilliant career of cevoral
of the Italian Republics — (see p. V24).

In these views we represent the fairest side of the
picture. There were yet many obstaclee in the way of
a complete and harmonious evolution of the principles
of civilisation. But the elements Ml seemed now to
have acquired existence, and time only was required
to consolidate and strengthen them.

FHOM THE CRU8ADKS TO THE MIDDLB OF THE FIFtEEMTH
CENTURY — BI3E OF BOMB NEW POWKSS.

The most remarkable general feature of European
society about the time of the Crusades was the papal
influence. Between the pontiflib and the German em-
perors there was kept up a perpetual struggle for power;
but for a long time the advantage was almost always
with the popes. The treatment which some of the
empwors received from them was extremely humi-
liating. Frederick Barbarossa was compelled to kiss
the feet of his holiness, Alexander III., and to appease
him by a large cession of territory, after having indig-
nantly denied his supremacy, and refused the custo-
mary homage, Henry VI,, while doing homage on his
knees, had his imperial crown kicked off by Pope Celes-
tinus, who, however, made some amends for this indig-
nity by the gift of Naples and Sicily. Henry had ex-
pelled the Normans from these territories, whioh now
became appendages of the German empire (1194), In
the beginning of the thirteenth century, Pope Innocent
III. was imagined to have permanently established the
powers of the Holy See, and its right to confer the im-
perial crown ; but this proved far from being the case.
In the time of Frederick II., who succeeded Otho IV.
(1212), th« M cont«ntk»i mm to more than the nmial

BISTORT OF THB MIDDLE AOBL

IntgU, and two fkettoni tpnma up in Italj, known by
tba naniM of Outlphi Mid UbiMllinM, the former
nikintkining tbe lupremaoy of tho popei, nnd the latter
that of the emperon. Frederick maintained the con-
teit which now aroie between himielf and the popei
with much iDirit; but on hit death (13A0) the

rndour of tne empire wai for a considerable time
ured. At length Rodolph of Hapibourc, a Swin
baron, waa elected emperor (1274). Rodolph beoame
the founder of the Houie of Austria, and ruled with
both Tigour and moderation. Hii ion Albert I. waa
the meant of causinc the inhabitant! of Switzerland to
auert and obtain their liberty, by hia attemptins to
bind them in lubjection to one of hii children, and then
uiing force to compel them. In the paai of Morgarten,
a email army of four or five hundred of theie bravo
mountaineers defeated an immense host of Austrians
(1815). Sixty pitched battles, it is said, were fousht
between the contending parties; but the spirit of Wil-
liam Tell, who appearml at this time, and of his patriot
countrymen, rose abore all attempts to enslave them;
and the Swiss cantons secured a freedom which their
descendants ei\joy to this day. The further history of
Germany, for nearly a century, is not politically im-
portant. Disputes between the emperors and the
papacy still continued, though the balance of advantage
was now oftener against the church.

About the beginning of the fifteenth century, the
great papal schism, as it has been called, took place.
It arose from there being no fewer than three difi'erent
claimants for the chair of St Peter — Gregory XII., who
was owned pope by thn Italian states; Benedict XIII.,
by France; and Alexander V., a native of Caudia, by
a number of the cardinals. This schism proved very
hurtful to the authority of the church, though in that
respect it benefited the interests of society, and contri-
buted to open men's eyes. The appearance of John
Huss at this time aided in producing that efl'ect. Hubs
proclaimed the same opinions as the great English
reformer Wickliffe. He was branded of course by the
clergy as a heretic and propagator of sedition. The
general council of the church, held at Constance (141 4),
concocted no fewer than thirty-nine articlcj in which
Huss is said to have erred. Some of the points he
denied having professed, and others he offered to sup-
port by argument; but his voice was drowned by the
clamours of bigotry. His hair was cut in the form of
a cross; upon his head was put a paper mitre, painted
with the representation of three devils; and ne was
delivered over to the secular judge, who condemned
both him and his writings to the flames. A similar
fi»te shortly after befell his disciple, Jerome of Prague,
who is said to have exhibited the eloquence of an
apostle and the constancy of a martyr at the stake
(1416). In revenge for these cruelties, the Hussites of
Bohemia kept up a war with the empire for twenty
years; and it was only after having their right to ex-
press their opinions acknowledged that they desisted.
The great schism lasted for many years. A Neapolitan
archbishop, named Bari, was elected and deposed by
the resident cardinals at Rome within a few months.
Boniface IX. and Innocent VI. were each temporarily
his successors. The result of the lengthened dispute
may be stated to be, that papal authority was greatly
weakened; the government of the church was brought
down among a class of ecclesiastics that had never
before tasted the sweets of power; and future popes
were obliged to resort to such questionable practices
for the maintenance of their dignity, that men in
general began to lose respect for their sanctity, and a
foundation was laid for changes which it fell to the lot
of Luther and others to efifisct.

The period which witnessed these transactions was
remarkable for the continued wars between France and
England. In the beginning of the twelfth century, the
famous dispute for supremacy arose between Thomas-
ft-Becket, archbishop of Canterbury, and Henry II.,
which ended in the death of the prelate (1171), but in
the triumph of his principles. The beginning of the

thirtMBth eenkury it mamorablo iieriiiiL history »
havinff witnessed the granting > »«na Charta f

King John; and towards the oonci' >t' it apfwn (

Kdward I., whose name is associateu with tbe tknt
great attempts to subdue the Soots on the Murt of En^
land. The bravery of Wallace and of others averted
that calamitT for ever. Wales was not so fortunate |
and Ireland had already become a conquered provinot.
The grandson of Edward I., named Edward III., proved
himself as ambitious and as sagacious as his predeces-
sor. His attention, however, was greatly diverted from
the kingdom of Scotland to that of France, with whioli
country he commenced a war, that proved greater in
duration and extent than any that had occurred in
Europe since the fall of the Roman Empire. The pro-
]>0Bal of subduing so great a country as France, and
seating himself upon the throne of it, seemed at first to
be the proposal of a madman ; but in less than twenty
years, Edward had so effectually dismembered tho dll-
ferent provinces, alienating some of the nobility and
overawing others, that his attaining the object of hia
desires seemed by that time no improbable nor distant
reality. His son, known in history as Edward the
Black Prince, named so from the colour of his armour,
contributed much by his presence and his valour to the
success of the English arms. In the battle of Cressy,
fought in 134(i, with numbers greatly on the side of
France, and in that of Poictiers, fought ten years latere
under similar circumstances, the English were com-
pletely victorious. John, king of France, was taken ,
prisoner, and the conduct of young Edward to his iUlen
enemy was generous and delicate in the highest degree)
BO that the French prisoners are said to have been
overcome by the display of such an elevation of mind
on the part of their conqueror, and to have burst into
tears. This refinement was the result of chivalijt
which both the Edwards attached themselves to, and
rendered respectable by their virtues.

France was at this time in a deplorable state. A
foreign enemy in the heart of the kingdom, the king
a prisoner, the capital in sedition, and civil war raging
over and above all — these were some of her accumu-
lated misfortunes ; and as if nature meant to conspiro
with man for her destruction, a plague broke out at
this time among the people, and consummated the
work of famine and the sword. This plague, how-
ever, was not confined to France, though, from the
dilapidated state of that country, it proved perhape
in it moBt disastrous. It invaded every kingdom of
Europe, and the English historian, Hume, computes
that it swept away about one-third of the inhabitant!
of every country that it attacked. The origin of the
disease is not well known ; but there can be no doubt
that it could only have made the ravages which it did
among nations uncivilised and ignorant, heedless of
all the cleanliness and comforts which we know in
modern times 'to be necessary to the preservation of
health. According to the ordinary account, this pesti-
lence took its rise in the Levant about the vear 1346,
from whence Italian traders brought it to Sicily, Pisa,
and Genoa. In 1348 it passed the Alps, and spread
over France and Spain. In the next year it reached
Britain, where, in London alone, 50,000 persons are
said to have become its victims ; and in 1350, it laid
waste Germany and other northern states, lasting gene-
rally in each country about five months. At Florence,
more than three out of every five of the inhabitants
were swept aw<iy. It is well knowii to those acquainted
with Italian literature, that the time of Boccaccio's
Decameron is laid during this pestilence.

While the plague lasted, a temporary truce had been
agreed upon between the French and English. At that
time the balance of advantage was greatly in favour of
the English. Not to mention less important gains, all
Guienne, Gascony, Poitou, Saintonge, the Limousin,
and the Angoumois, as well as Calais, and the county
of Pointhieu, were ceded in full sovereignty to Edward,
and the empty title of King of France was all that h«
became bound to gire up (1360). But it was found

123

ouAMBmurs urrofOtAmon for ths peopll

ImpoMibl* to NUin potMMloM in thf hmrt of » fortifn
eountrr, though won by coniumnuUo bmrtiy ud raU i
with no imprudtnco. In !•■• thnn ten yoMi (1M8;,
the wnr wm rwommencwi. »nd th« Enclith bogni to
low mnny of th* prorinoo* which they had pteriomly
•cqulrad. Chwiei v., who hnd noted m regent in France
during the osptirity of hi* father John, nnd wm now
hie Mooeeeor on the throne, contributed greatly by hii
wiidom to thii result; and hii general, Du (liiMclin,
eontributed not leae to It by hi* ralour. Kngland had
lott both iti Edwardi, and Riohard II. prored deidtute
of abilitiee for leading on the enthuiiatni of hit country-
men to anything great. Charlei died prematurely,
howrrer, a ciroumitance which prored unfortunate for
France, ai hii ion, the lixth of the lame name, waa a
very unworthy lucoeiior. For forty yean Charie* VI.
may be ia!d to hare bomo the nnme of king, rather
than to have reigned in France, The wealth accumu-
lated by Charles the Wise was, in the first place, stolen
by the Uukoof Anjou; and afterwards, by reason of
want of funds, and misapplication of what they ha<l,
Charles VI. and his ministers were fully nioto engaged
in quarrels with the citiMus of Paris and other sub-
jects, than in any iMiooming eiforts to esiiel the English.
History records, however, that the king became totally
imbecile in mind (1393), so that he was, by universal
consent, excluded from all share in the government,
and the Houses of Burgundy and Orleans long struggled
for the regency. At tnis period Honry V. of Kngland
put in a claim for the government of the kingdom, on
the strength of a distant relationship to the reigning
family; and after having gained the memorable battle
of Agincourt (1415), he was actually promised the
throne on the death of Charles, though his own death
prevented this iVom ever taking place. It may be
worth remarking, that cardi were invented in this age.
The desire to amuse the silly king of France was the
cause. In the year 1422, Charles VII., sumamed the
Victorious, was crowned king of France at Poictiers,
while the crown wcs claimed on the port of Henry VI.
of England, yet an infant. The war continued, and
the English were like to have proved victorious, when
a simple maiden, named Joan of Arc, made her appear-
ance at the head of the armies of France, and turned
the tide of fortune in favour of her country. Appa-
rently mistaking the impulses of superstition for Divine
inspiration, she gave out that she had been commis-
sioned by Heaven to save her country ; and having
succeeded in inspiring the French soldiery with that
belief, she led them on to battle, and they proved vic-
torious. It must be recorded, to the disgrace of our
ooantrymen, that Joan, being shortly after taken pri-
soner, was condemned to be burnt as n sorceress. The
French, however, were but the more exasperated at
this ; and their victory of Formignv, and the death of
Talbot, perhaps the greatest English warrior of the age,
now left them in possession of all their country, with
the exception of Calais and Oreignes (1450).

Of all that was done by England to obtain a footinc
in France, a barren title to our sovereigns alone is all
that was preserved till a recent period. The power
and spirit of the French nation rose above all cala-
mities, and in less than half a century, having freed
herself of every enemy at home, her arms were in a
condition to be directed externally with eiTcct. The
invasion of Naples by Charles VIII. was the event that
first engaged the principal states of Europe in relations
of alliance or hostility, which may be deduced to the
present day, and is the point which most appropriately
terminates the history of the middle ages.

During this period, several of those countries in the
north of Europe, which have made a considerable figure
in modem history, for the iirst time attracted attention.
The sreatest of these was Kussia. In the middle of
the thirteenth century, the tribes of Tartaiy made a
complete conquest of this country, and for about a
hundred years they maintained their supremacnr. At
length Ivan ascended the throne of Moscow (1462),
Mid overcoming the Tartars, established a kingdom of

his owR, and was abls to form an allianes with tht
En>n*ror Maximilian of Cleraany, who did not hosltats
to style him brother. This was the first entrance of
Kusna Into Europsan politics.

Befor* ths end of the fourteenth century, the Chris-
tian religion had penetrated into Denmaim, Sweden,
Prussia, and Poland ; but it fiUled in producing anv
immediate beneficial efl^t. The politloal events whion
took place in these countries, however, were very va-
rious at this period, but proved too unimportuit iu
their results to admit of being even outlined hsre.

TIIR ITALIAN MtPUBLIOS — COMHEIICI IN OKNBIUL.

Among the Italian cities, Venice, at the extremity of
the Adriatic, Ravenna, at the south of the mouth of the
Po, Genoa, at the foot of the Ligurian mountains, Pisa,
towards the mouths of the Amo, Home, Oatfta, Naples,
AmalphI, and Dari, were either never conquered by
tho Lombards, or were in subjection too short a time
to have lost many of their ancient habits and customs.
In this way these cities naturally became the refuge
of Roman civilisation, at a time when other parts of^
Europe were wading through barbariait darkness. The
feudal system never prevailed among them with any
force; and several of these and other cities had im-
portant privileges conferred upon them by the German
emperors nt a very early period. Sismondi. the his-
torian of Italy, asserts that Otho I. (936) erected some
of them into municipal communities, and permitted
them the election of their own magistrates. It is cer-
tain that, in 951, the citizens of Milan rose in tunlUlt,
expelled an archbishcp from their city, and were able
to establish a qualified right to interfere in future
elections. The atter-history of Milan is eventful and
tragiwi ; but we can onlv givo a short account of it
here. In the middle of the twelfth contunr, Frederick
Barbarossa became engaged with the cities of Lombardy,
and particularly with it, in extensive and destructive
wars. In the year 1162 Milan was finally overcome;
the walls and houses were razed from their foundation,
and the sufiisring inhabitants dispersed over other cities,
obtaining sympathy in their distress, and communi-
cating their enthusiastic love of freedom in return.
The republican form of government was adopted in
every considerable town ; and before the end of the
thirteenth century, there was a knowledge, a power,
and an enterprise, among these apparently insignifi-
cant republics which all Kurope could not match.

The beneficial though unlooked-for effect of the Cru-
sades upon commerce has already been mentioned.
During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the com-
merce of Europe was almost entirely in the hands of the
Italians, more commonly known in those ages by the
name of Lombards. The republic of Pisa was one
of the first to make known to the world the riches and
power which a small state might acquire by the aid of
commerce and liberty, Pisa had astonished the shores
of the Mediterranean by the number of vessels and
galleys that sailed under her flag, by the succour sho
had given the Crusaders, bv the fear she had inspired
at Constantinople, and by the conquest of Sardinia and
the Balearic Isles. Immediately preceding this period,
those great structures which still aelight the eye of the
traveller — the Dome, the Baptistir, the Leaning Tower,
and the Campo Santo of Pisa hod all been raised ; and
the great architects that spread over Europe in the thir-
teenth century had mostly their education here. But
unfortunately, the ruin of this glorious little republic
was soon to be accomplished. A growing envy had
subsisted between it and Genoa during the last two
centuries, and a new war broke out in 1282. It is
difficult to comprehend how two simple cities oould
put to sea such prodigious fleets as those of Pisa and
Genoa. Fleets of thirty, sixty-four, twenty-four, and
one hundred and three galleys, were successively put
to sea by Pisa, under the most skilful commanders;
but on every occasion the Genoese were able to oppose
them with superior fleets. In August 1284, the Pisans
were defeated in a naval engagement before the Isle of

HISTORY OF THE MIDDLR AGES.

)M«loH* : tblrtjr-flre of their yenuh ware lotk. Are
thouMuia perwDi periiheil in buttlv, mid eleren tbou-
■Mtd became priaonen uf Iht; (Iviioeae. After a few
further inetleottial itruggle*, I' ' . lost i*» etMidlng.

The greatett coinniervik. il!o>|<>«^«r the rooit

rtmarkable oitjr of thu lUui i^ i ul<U-«s wm Venice.
Secluded iVoni the world, on a 1 1 iMvt of ieUiidi in the
Adriatic, the iuhabitanttuf tliii city had Uken up their
abode in the course of the fifth century, and they boaated
theniielvei to hare been iiidvpendeut of all the revo-
lutions which k!uroi>e hud bctMi undergoing since the
fall of the Hoinau Knipiro. This might l^ true to a
great extent, though fur Imig it was certainly more the
result of tlioir obscurity thu l their power, llv the
tenth century, howeTer, tho doscondanls of those fisher'
Uien that had flist taken refuge here, were able to send
fleets abroad which could encounter and overawti both
Saiacens and Nonnans. The Venetians hod all along
kept un a corrosnondence with Constantinople during
tho darkest periods of the middle a^ea. This was greatly
renewed and extended about the time of tho Crusades.
When Constantinople wim taken by the Latins (1°J04),
the Venetians, under their doge, or chief magistrate,
Henry Dundalo, became possessed of three-eighths of
that great city and of the provinces, and Dandalo as-
sumed the singularly accurate title of Duke of Three-
Eighths of the Itomau Empire. The Venetians greatly
increased their share of the spoil by making advanta-
geous purchases from tho more needy of the Crusaders.
Among tho most important of these was the Isle of
Candia, which they retained till the middle of the
seventeenth century. The idea of a bank took its rise
in this city, and an establishment of that nature, simply
for the receipt of deposits, is said to have existed iu it
so soon aa tne year 1157. But it was nut till about a
centurr later that banking, as the terra is now under-
stood, began at all to be practised. The merchants of
Lombardy and of the south of France began at that
time to remit money by bills of exchange, and to make

Srofit upon loans. The Italian clergy who had bene-
ces beyond the Alps, found the new method of trans-
mitting money exceedingly convenient; and tho system
of exacting usury or interest, after experiencing every
obstruction from ignorance and bigotry, became a legal
part of commerce. In the thirteenth century the go-
vernment of Venice was entirely republican ; but con-
tinued wars with Ueuoa reduced both cities. These
wars were all conducted on the seas, and the display uf
naval strength on both sides seems prodigious, when we
reflect on the poor condition of Italy at the present
day. Besides tnese wan for objects of ambition, there
were continual jealousies which rose above enlightened
views of self-interest, and led to the most disgraceful
broils. At tho middle of the fourteenth century a
battle took place between the rival citizens, in which
the Genoese were defeated. Their loss was immense,
and in distress and in revenge they gave themselves up
to John Visconti, Lord of Milan, then the richest and
among the most ambitious of the petty tyrants of Italy,
hoping that he would give them tne meann to re-estab-
lish their fleet and continue the war with the Venetians.
He did so, and in another naval engagement, fought in
1354, in the Gulf of Sapienza, the Venetians were en-
tirely defeated. But the Genoese had sacrificed their
liberty in their thirst for revenge. Visconti became
their master instead of friend. Venice was able to
rise above its temporary discomfiture, and during the
fifteenth century its fame and power became greater
than they had ever been before. In the beginning of
the fifteenth century the Venetians captured the town
of Padua, and gradually lost their empire of the sea
while they acquired possessions on the continent.

Among the most famous of the Italian states at this
period was Florence; and its fame was founded, not
on arms, but on literature. Like the other Italian cities,
however, it owed its first elevation to the commercial
industry of its inhabitants. There was a curious divi-
sion of the Florentine citizens, subsisting about the
beginning of the thirteenth century, into companies

or ails. These wer« at first twelve- seven called th*
greater arts, and five the lesaer; but the latter were
gradually increaacd to fourteen. The seven urvalar
arte were thoae uf lawyers and notariea, of dealeri in
foreign cloth (called sometimes calimata), of bankers or
niuney-changers, of woollen-drapers, of physicians and
druggists, of dealers iu silk, and of furriers. Tb« in-
ferior arta were those of retailers of cloth, but>:hars,
smiths, shoemakers, and builders. It was in the thir-
teenth century that Florence l)ecame a republic, and
it maintained its independence fur two hundred years.
Iu the beginning of tho fifteenth century it became
peculiarly distinguished by the revival of Grecian lite-
rature and the cultivation of the fine arts. Cosmo da
Medici, who lived a citizen uf Florence at this time,
and was known by the name uf the Grand Duke of
Tuscany — descended from a Ions line of ancestors,
whose wealth had been honourahly acuuired in the
prosecution of tho grtater art§ — possessed more richea
than any king in Europe, and laid out more money on
wurks uf learning, taste, and charity, than all the
princes uf his age. The same liberality and munifi-
cence distinguished his family for several generations.
The commercial success of the states uf Italy induced
the inhabitants of northern Europe to atteQi,)t similar
enterprises. In the thirteenth century the seaports on
the Baltic were trading with France and Britain, and
with tho Mediterranean. The commercial laws of Ule-
ren and Wisbuy (on the Baltic) regulated for many ages
the trade of Europe. To protect their trade firom piracy,
Lubec, Hamburg, and most of the northern seaports,
joined in a confederacy, under certain general regu-
lations, termed the League of the JJanae Towtu ; a uni«m
so beneficial in its nature, and so formidable in point
of strength, as to have its alliance courted by the pre-
dominant powers of Europe. ' For the trade of the
llaiise Towns with tho southern kingdoms, Bruges on
the coast of Flanders was found a convenient cntrepdt,
and thither the Mediterranean merchants brought the
commodities of India and the Levant, to exchange for
the produce and manufactures of the north. The
Flemings now began to encourage trade and manu-
factures, which thence 8()read to tlie Brabauters ; but
their growth being checked by the impolitic sovereigns
of those provinces, they found a more favourable field
in England, which was destined thence to derive the
great source of its national opulence.'

THE TUnKS — FALL OF CO.NSTANTINOPLE.

We have already seen the weakness of tho empire of
Constantinople at the time of the Crusades ; we have
seen the city sacked and the government seized by the
champions of the cross. The Greeks regained their
empire in the year 1'2(>1, but in a mangled and impo-
verished condition. For nearly two centuries it con-
tinued in a similar state. Andronicus, son of Michael
Palffiologus, who had restored the Greek empire, allowed
himself to be persua<ied that, as God was his protector,
all military force was unnecessary ; and the supersti-
tious Greeks, regardless of danger, employed themselves
in disputing about the transfiguration of Jesus Christ,
when their unfortunate situation made it necessary
that they should have been studying the art of war,
and training themselves to military discipline.

In the meantime, the Turks had become a powerful
people. They had embraced the Mohammedan religion
long before the time of the Crusades, and proved power-
ful obstacles to the success of those expeditions. About
the beginning of the fourteenth century they established
an empire of their own in Asia Minor, under Othman
or Ottoman, and to this day the Ottoman Empire is a
name given to the dominions of their descendants. By
degrees they encroached on tho borders of the empire
of Constantinople, and they were only prevented from
subverting it at a much earlier period than they did,
by being called upon to defend themselves from the arms
of an Eastern conqueror who arose at this time. Tamer-
lane, otherwise called Timerbek, was a prince of the
Usbek Tartars, and a descendant from Ghenghis Khan.

125

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

After having overrun Persia, and a ^at part of India
and Syria, this great conqueror was invited by some of
the minor princes of Asia, wuo were suffering under
the Ottoman tyranny, to come and protect them. Ta-
merlane was flattered by the request, and having
brought a great army into Phiygia, he waa there met
by Bajazet, the Ottoman emperor, who readily gave
battle, but was defeated and made prisoner (U02).
Tamerlane made Samarcand the capital of his empire,
and there receiied the homage of all the princes of the
Hast. Illiterate himself, he was solicitous for the cul-
tivation of literature and science in his dominions; and
Samarcand became for a while the seat of learning,
politeness, and the arts, but was destined to relapse
after a short period into its ancient barbarism. The
Turks, after the death of Tamerlane, resumed their

Eurpose of destroying the empire of the East. The
onour, or disgrace, as it may be thought, of effecting
this, fell to the lot of Mohammed II., commonly sur-
named the Great. At the early age of twenty-one,
Mohan..med projected this conquest. His countrymen
had already passed into Europe; they had possessed
themselves of the city of Adrianople, and indeed had
left nothing of all the empire of the East to the Greeks
but the city of Constantinople itself. The preparations
made for defence were not such as became the descen-
dants of Romans, and the powers of Europe now looked
upon the East with the most supine indifference. The
Turks assailed the city both ou the land side and on
that of the sea; and battering down its walls with
their cannon, entered sword in hand, and massacred
all who opposed them (1453). Mohammed, like many
uther ambitious conquerors, showed himself unwilling
to destroy unnecessarily. The imperial edifices were
preserved, and the churches were converted into
mosques : the exercise of their religion was freely
allowed to the Christians, and this privilege they have
never been deprived of. Constantino (for that was the
name of the last, as well as the first emperor of the
East) was slain in battle. From the time that it was
founded by Constantino the Great, the city had sub-
sisted 1 123 years. Mohammed liberally patronised the
arts and sciences. He was himself not only a politi-
cian, but a scholar, and he invited both artists and
men of letters to his capital from the kingdoms of
Europe. But the taking of Constantinople had an
effect contrary to his wishes: it dispersed the learned
Greeks, or Greeks who were called learned, all over
Europe; and this, among other things, may be looked
upon as a help to the great revival of letters which
the fifteenth century witnessed. The taking of Con-
stantinople was followed by the conquest of Greece and
Epirus ; and Italy might probably have met with a
similar fate, but for the fleet of the Venetians, who
opposed the arms of Mohammed with considerable
success, and even attacked him in Greece ; but the
contending powers soon after put an end to hostilities
by a treaty. By this time Europe was trembling at
Mohammed's success, and was afraid, not without
reason, that he might pursue his conquests westwards.
It was relieved from fear by liis death, which took place
in 1481. His descendants have continued to our own
day to occupy one of the finest countries in £uro]>e;
and it was only in the present age that Greece was
liberated from their dominion.

SI8E OF CIVIL FREEDOM AND SOCIAL IHPOOVEMENT.

Civil freedom, as we have seen, dawned first in the
great commercial cities of Italy, whence .v spread to
Germany, Flanders, and Britain. ThLi important
change in society may be traced to the institution
free communities of traders, or guilds of merchant,
and such confederacies were a necessary consequence of
the usurpation and tyranny of the nobles and feudal
possessors of the soil. In the eleventh and twelfth cen-
turies the usurpations of the nobility became intoler-
able; they had reduced the great body of the people
to a state of actual servitude. Nor .7a« such oppres-
sion the portion of those alone who dwelt in the coun-
126

try, and were employed in cultivating the estates of
their masters. Cities and villages found it necessary
to hold of some great lord, on whom they might depend
for protection, and became no less subject to his arbi-
trary jurisdiction. The inhabitants were deprived of
those rights which, in social life, are deemed most na-
tural and inalienable. They could not dispose of the
effects which their own industry had acquired, either
by a later will, or by any deed executed duriiig their
lives. Neither could they marry, nor cany on lawsuits,
without the consent of their lord. But as soon as the
cities of Italy began to turn their attention towards
commerce, and to conceive some idea of the advan-
tages which they might derive from it, they became
impatient to shake off the yoke of their insolent lords,
and to establish among themselves such a free and
equal government as would render property and indus-
try secure. The Italian cities were the first to eman-
cipate themselves, and their example was followed in
uther great seats of population, the king of the country
in general countenancing the establishment of free
communities, in order to gain support against the en-
croachments of the overgrown power of the barons.
The first community of this descnption formed in Scot-
land is understood to have been that of Berwick-upon-
Tweed, which received its charter from William the
Lion. Towns, upon acquiring the right of community,
became so many little republics, governed by knrwn
and equal laws. The inhabitants being trained to
arms, and being surrounded by wallp, they soon began
to hold t'le neighbourii:^ barons in contempt, and to
withstand aggressions on tbeir property and privileges.
Another great good, of fully more importance, was pro-
duced. These free communities were speedily admitted,
by their representatives, into the great council of the
nation, whether distinguished by the name of a Parlia-
ment, a Diet, the Cortes, or the States-Generul. This
is justly esteemed the greatest event in the history of
mankind in modern times. Representatives from the ,
English boroughs were first admitted into the great na-
tional council by the barons who took up arms against
Henry III. in the year 126.5 ; being summoned to add to
the greater popularity of their party, and to strengthen
the barrier against the encroachments of regal power.
Readers 'may draw their own conclusions from an event
which ultimately had the efi'ect of revolutionising the
framework of society, and of rearing that great body of
the people coiumonfy styled ' the middle claos.'

The enfranchising of burghal communities led to the
manumission of slaves. Hitherto the tillers of the
ground, all the inferior classes of the country, were the
bondsmen of the barons. The monarchs of France, iii
order to reduce the power of the nobles, set the example,
by ordering (1316-1318) all serfs to be set at liberty on
just and reasonable conditions. The edicts were carried
into immediate execution within the royal domain.
The example of their sovereigns, together with the ex-
pectation of considerable sums which they might raise
by this expedient, led many of the nobles to set their
dependents at liberty; and servitude was thus gradually
abolished in almost every province of the Kingdom.
This beneficial practice similarly spread over the rest
of Europe ; and in England, as the spirit of liberty
gained ground, the very name and idea of personal ser-
vitude, without any formal interposition of the legisla-
ture to prohibit it, was totally banished.

While society was assuming the semblance of the
form it now bears, the progress of improvement was
accelerated by various collateral circumstances, the
first of which worth noticing was

The Revival of Letteri. The first restorers of learning
n Europe were the Arabians, who, in the course of
their Asiatic conquests, became acquainted with 6ome
of the ancient Greek authors, discovered their merits,
and had them translated into Arabic, esteeming those
principally which treated of mathematics, physics, and
metaphysics. They disseminated their knowledge in
the course of their conquests, and founded schools and
colleges in all the countries which they subdued. The

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HISTORY OP THE MIDDLE AGES.

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The

western kingdoms of Europe became first acquainted
with the learning of the ancients through the medium of
those Arabian translations. Charlemagne caused them
to be retranslated into Latin ; and, after the example
of the calipha, founded universities at Bonona, Pavia,
Oinaburg, and Paris. Similar efforts were made in
England by Alfred j and to him we owe the establish-
ment, or at least the elevation, of the univeraity of
Oxford. The first efforts, however, at literair improve-
ment were marred by the subtleties of scholastic divi-
nity. Perhaps the greatest and wisest literary cha-
racter of the middle ages was an English friar, named
Roger Bacon. This extraordinary individual was not
only learned, but, what was more uncommon in those
times, he was scientific. Hallam asserts that he was
acquainted with the nature of gunpowder, though he
deemed it prudent to conceal his knowledge. He saw
the insufficiency of school philosophy, and was the first
to insist on experiment and the observation of nature as
the fittest instruments by which to ac(]|uire knowledge.
He reformed the calendar, and made discjveries in as-
tronomy, optics, chemistry, medicine, and mechanics.

It is to Italy, however, that we owe the first and
greatest exertions in the revival of letters. The spirit
of libertv which had arisen among its republics was
favourable to the cultivation of literature ; and ac-
cordingly we find that not only did they produce many
individuals who were most active and successful in
briugine to light the relics of classical lore, but that
there also arose among them men possessed of the
highest oi'der of original genius. Florence produced
^ante so early as 1265. Dante was associated with
the magistracy of his native city in his earlier years;
but bavins given dissatisfaction in that capacity, he
was banished, and in his exile produced his great
poem entitled the * Divine Comedy.' It is a representa-
tion of the three supposed kingdoms of futurity — Hell,
Purgatory, and Paradise — divided into one hundred
cantos, and containing about 14,000 lines. The poem
has been much praised. Petrarch, bom in the year
1304, was likewise a Florentine by birth. The misfor-
tunes of his father had impoverished the family, and
Petrarch was too proud to take the usual method of
retrieving his affairs. His genius, however, earned for
him the friendship of many Italian princes, and even
of more popes than one, although he had exerted his
talents to expose the vices of their courts. Petrarch's
personal character seems to have exhibited some un-
amiable traits; but he has sung of love, friendship,
glory, patriotism, and religion, in language of such
sweetness and power as to have made him the admira-
tion of every succeeding age. Boccaccio, like the two
great poets named, was also a Florentine. He was
bom in 131.S, and his name has descended to posterity
less associated with his poetry than the light, elegant,
and easy prose of his novels.

The discovery of Justinian's Laws, aa detailed in the
Pandects (see History op Laws), was another event
which powerfully tended to modify the barbarism that
prevailed during the middle ages in Europe.

T/te invention of the Mariner's Compass must be
reckoned of still greater importance, and yet it is abso-
lutely unknown to whom we owe it. That honour has
bee J often bestowed on Oioia, a citizen of Amalphi, who
lived about the commencement of the fourteenth cen-
tury. But the polarity of the magnet at least was known
to the Saracens two hundred years before that time;
though even after the time of Gioia, it was long before
the magnet was made use of as a guide in navigation.
* It is a singular circumstance,' says Mr Hallam, • and
only to be explained by the obstinacy with which men
are apt to reject improvement, that the magnetic needle
was not generally adopted in navigation till very long
after the discovery of its properties, and even after
their peculiar importance had been perceived. The
writers of the thirteenth century, who mention the po-
larity of the needle, mention also its use in navigation;
yet Carapany has found no distinct proof of its employ-
ment till U03, and doea not believe that it was fre-

quently on board Mediterranean shipi at the latter
part of the preceding age.' The Genoese, however, are
known in the fourteenth century to have uume out of
that inUnd sea, and steered for Flanders and England.
But by far the greatest sailors of the age were the
Spaniards and Portuguese. This latter nation had little
or no existence during the greater part of the middle
ages, but in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth cen-
turies, they were able to expel the Moors from a great
part of their country; and in the beginning of the fif-
teenth, John, sumamed the Bastard, who was then their
king, was the first European prince who exhibited a
respectable navy. It was in 14U6 that this adventu-
rous people first doubled the Cape of Good Hope.

The discovery of America (1493) may be mentioned
supplementarily to the invention of * <e mariner's com-
pass, as an event which, without ic, could never have
taken placa. The immortal honour of that discovery
rests with Christopher Columbus, a sailor of Genoa.
After unsuccessful applications at almost every court in
Europe, and braving obloquy and contempt, Columbus
at last obtained a miserable force from Ferdinand and
Isabella of Spain; and with no landmark but the hea-
vens, nor any guide but his compass, he launched
boldly into the sea, and at last conducted Europeans
to the great western hemisphere.

In the course of the fourteenth and beginning of the
fifteenth centuries, various discoveries in the arts were
made, which powerfully tended to the advancement
of society; among these the more important were the
invention of gunpowder and firearms, clocks and
watches, paper-making and printing. This last, the
greatest of all, prepared the way for the Reformation
in religion, in the sixteenth century, by which reli-
gious was added to civil freedom, and a great spur
given to individual activity.

Important as these events were in their ultimate
tendencies, it is to be remembered that they did not
immediately make any distinct change in the comforts
of the people. In the latter centuries of the middle
ages, the amusements of the common people were
metrical and prose romances, unintelligible prophe-
cies, and fables of giants and enchanters. The state
of England and of France at this period shows the small
advance which had been made towards those comforts
and improvements which now exist. Even in the large
cities, the housed were roofed with thatch, and had no
chimneys. ' The two most essential improvements in
architecture during this period,' says Mr Hallam, * one
of which had been missed by the sagacity of Greece
and Rome, were chimneys and glass windows. Nothing
apparently can be more simple than the former ; yet
the wisdom of ancient times had been content to let
the smoke escape by an aperture in the centre of the
i-oof ; and a discovery, of which Vitmvius had not a
glimpse, was made, perhaps in this country [England],
by some forgotten semi-barbarian. About the middle
of the fourteenth century the use of chimnoys is dis-
tinctly mentioned in England and in Italy; but they
ai'« found in several of our castles which bear a much
older date. This country seems to have lost very early
the art of making glass, which was preserved in France,
whence artificers were brought into England to furnish
the windows of some new churches in the seventh cen-
tury. It is said that, in the reign of Henry III., few
ecclesiastical buildings had glazed windows, Suger,
however, a century before, had adorned his great work,
the Abbey of St Denis, with windows not only glazed
but painted ; and I presume that other churches of the
same class, both in France and England, were gene-
rally decorated in a similar manner. Yet gloss is said
not to have been employed in the domestic architec-
ture of France before the fourteenth century, aud its
introduction into England was probably by no means
earlier. Nor, indeed, did it come into general use
during the period of the middle ages. Glazed windows
were considered as movable furniture, and probably
bore a high price. When the Earls of Northumber-
land, as late aa the reign of Elizabeth, left Alnwick

127

CHAMBBIIS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Cdstle, the windows were token out of their frames and
carefully laid by.'

By far the finest specimens of architecture which
the middle ages produced were the religious edifices
built in the twelfth and three following centuries. The
superstition of the times was farourable to the produc-
tion of works of that sort. To leave one's means for
such a purpose was deemed so meritorious, as to entitle
the donor to eternal happiness in the next scene of
existence; and men in this world thought it a duty to
render structures designed for purposes so sacred as
beautiful and becoming as they could. It was about
the middle of the twelfth century that what has been
called the Gothic style of architecture took its rise, of
which the peculiar feature is thought to be the pointed
arch, formed by the segment of two intersecting semi-
circles, struck from points equidistant from the centre
of a common diameter. This style of architecture has
been said by different individuals to have originated in
France, in Oermany, in Italy, and in England (Vol. I.
p. 438). The truth is, we neither know where it origi-
nated nor from what source it was derived. It has
afforded antiquaries a curious subject of speculation
how so perfect a system, as this has been thought,
should not only have originated but reached perfection
in times so dark. Any efiectual explanation is probably
now impossible; the knowledge of the art was never
permitted to go beyond a fraternity of freemasons, and
it is not to be supposed that the early archives of that
association have survived so many revolutions.

The living even of the highest nobility under the
Edwards was such as would not prove very palatable to
their luxurious descendants. They drank little wine,
had no foreign luxuries, rarely kept male servants
except for husbandry, and still more rarely travelled
beyond their native country. An income of £10 or X^O
was reckoned a competent estote for a gentleman — at
least the lord of a single manor would seldom have
enjoyed more. A knight who possessed J:150 a year
passed for extremely rich. Sir John Fortescue speaks
of five pounds a year as ' a fair living for a yeoman; '
and we read that the same sum (£5) served as the
annual expense of a scholar attending the university.
Modem lawyers must be surprised at the following,
which Mr Hallam extracts from the churchwarden's
accounts of St Margaret, Westminster, for 1476: —
* Also paid to Roger Fylpott, learned "in the law, for his
counsel giving, 38. 8d., with Jfourpence for Mm dinner.'

' It has been remarked that the wages of day-labourers,
particularly those engaged in agriculture, were better
m the times of Edward 111. and Henry VI. than they
have ever been at any other period of English his-
tory; nor can it be denied that this, upon the whole,
is true. In the fourteenth centuiv, a harvest man had
fourpence a day, which enabled him in a week to buy
a comb of wheat ; but, says Sir John Cullum, in his
History of Hawsted, to buy a comb of wheat a man must
now ( ~M) work ten or twelve days. ' So,' says Mr
Halhun, ' under Henry VI., if meat was at a farthing
and a-half the pound, which, I suppose^ was about the
mark, a labourer earning threepence a day, or eighteen-
pence in the week, could buy a bushel of wheat at six
■hillings the quarter, and twenty-four pounds of meat,
for his family. A labourer at present earning twelve
shillings a week, can only buy a bushel of wheat at
eighty shillings the quarter, and twelve pounds of meat
at sevenpence.' It is thus undeniable that the day-
labourers' wages could purchase greater quantities of
certain kinds of food than the wages given to the same
class of persons could do in the present day, but they
wanted » thousand comforts which the meanest of our
workmen now enjoy; and few surely would be willing
to exchange all these blessings for the wars and miseries
which Edward caused, even although they were in-
sured, along with them, of daily supplies of beef and
ale, uf whieu the ancient yeomen boasted.

The internal accommodation of houses was even
less than their outward splendour. A gentleman's
house contaimof three or four beds was thought to
12ti

be extraordinary well provided ; few probably had
more than two. The waUs were commonly bare, with-
out wainscot or even plaster, except that some great
houses were furnished with hangings, and that per-
haps hardly so soon as the reign of Edward VI.
Neither books nor pictures could find a place in such
dwellings as these. Some inventories of furniture,
bearing dates in the fourteenth century, havu been pre-
served to our own day, and they are curious and amus-
ing. In Sir F. Eden's work on the State of the Poor,
a carpenter's stock is said to have been valued, iu the
year 1301, at a shilling 1 In an inventory of the goods
of * John Port, late the king's servant,' who died about
1624, we find that this gentleman's house had consisted
of a hall, parlour, buttery, and kitchen, with five bed-
steads, two chambers, three garrets, and some minor
accommodations. From this it may be inferred that
Mr Port was a rather important man in his d<iy, for
very few individuals at that time could boast of such
accommodation. His plate was valued at £di, his
jewels at £23; and, strange to say, bis funeral expenses
amounted to £73, 6s. 8d I

Of all the arts necessary to existence, perhaps that
of agriculture was in the most miserable condition dur-
ing the middle ages. On a thousand spots of land which
we now behold subjected to a fruitful cultivation, there
was nothing to be seen at that time but ' tracts of forest
ground, stognating with bog or darkened by native
woods, where the wild ox, the roe, the stag, and the wolf,
had scarcely learned the supremacy of man.' We owe
the first efforts at improvement in agriculture over the
greater part of Europe to the monks. They chose, for
the sake of retirement, secluded regions, which they
cultivated with the labour of their hands. 'Qf the
Anglo-Saxon husbandry we may remark,' says Mr
Turner, ' that Doom's-da^ Survey gives us some indi-
cation that the cultivation of the church lands was
much superior to that of any other. They had much
less wood upon them, and their meadow was more
abundant, and in more numerous distributions.' The
culture of arable land in general was very imperfect:
according to Sir John Cullum, a full average crop on
an acre sown with wheat amounted only to about nine
or ten bushels — a circumstance, the knowledge of which
may save us any surprise at a calculation by which it
appears that, in the thirteenth century, the average
annual rent of an acre of arable land was from six-
pence to a shilling. In the time of Edward I., the or-
dinary price of a quarter of wheat appears to have been
about four shillings. A sheep was sold high at a shil-
ling, and an ox might be reckoned at ten or twelve.
In considering these statements, however, of positive
monev values, it must be recollected by persons of this
day that the precious metals were depreciated progres-
sively iu their value by every sovereign in Europe, who
enabled themselves in this way to pay debts in appear-
ance, while in reality they were chea'vlug their creditors to
that extent ; and sums of small name in those days were
every way equal in value to greater sums in our own.

At this time wine was sold only in the shops of the
English apothecaries. Yet the progress of luxury, as it
was cnlled, had already begun to excite serious aJanii.
The parliament of Edward III. passed an act prohibit-
ing the use of gold and silver in apparel to all who
had not a hundred pounds a year; and Charles VI. of
France ordained that none should presume to entertain
their guests with more than two dishes and a mess of
soup. It is almost unnecessary to add, that laws of
that sort were passed only with a view to persons in the
highest ranks; for others they were not needed. Con-
temporary history has recorded nothing of the poorer
classes but thoir slaughter in war; but we are at little
loss to perceive that domestic comforts must have been
few and slender among Ihein, vrhen we know that
neither chairs nor looking-glasses could be found in the
bedrooms of the nobility. Ages over which this sketch
does not extend, were required before the great mass
of human beings should become possessed «u penoual
comforts or of political rights.

HISTOKY OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

coanveaT by tue rohans.
Previously to the year 55 before Christ, the British
Iclands, in common with the whole of northern and
western Europe, were occupied by barbarous tribes,
who bore nearly the same relation to the civilised na-
tions of Greece and Italy, which the North American
Indians of the present day bear to the inhabitants of
Great Britain and the United States. The Romans,
who for ages had been extending their power over their
rude neighbours, had concluded the conquest of Gaul,
now called France, when, in the year just mentioned,
their celebrated commander, Julius Coesar, learning
from the merchants of that countiy that there was an-
other li:rtile land on the opposite side of the narrow sea
now termed the British Channel, resolv-'d to proceed
thither, and subject it also to the RomdA arms. Dis-
embarking at the place since called Deal, he soon over-
awed the savage natives, though they were naturally
warlike, and averse to a foreign yoke. He did not, how-
ever, gain a firm footing in Britain till the succeeding
year, when he employed no fewer than 800 vessels to
convey his troops from Gaul. Except along the coasts,
where some tillage prevailed, the British tribes lived
exactly as the Indians now do, upon animals caught in
hunting, and fruits which grew spontaneously. They
stained and tattooed their bodies, and had no religion
but a bloody idolatry called Druidism. The people of
Ireland were in much the same condition.

Little was done on this occasion to establisb the
Roman power in Britain;. but about a century after-
wards — namely, in the year of Christ 43, when the
Emperor Claudius was reigning at Rome — another large
army invaded the island, and reduced a considerable
part of it. A British princi) called Caradoc, or Carac-
tacus, who had made a noble defence against their
arms, was finally taken and sent prisoner to Rome,
where he was regarded with the same wonder as we
should bestow upon a North American chief who had
greatly obstructed the progress of our settlements in
that quarter of the world. In the year CI, an officer
named Suetonius did much to reduce the Britons, by
destroying the numerous Druidical temples in the Isle
of Anglesea; religion having in this case, as in many
others since, been a great support to the patriotic cause.
He soon after overthrew the celebrated British princess
Boadicca, who had raised an almost general insurrec-
tion against the Roman power.

In the year 79, Agricola, a slill greater general, ex-
tended the influence of Rome to the Firths of Forth
Hud Clyde, which he formed into a frontier, by conuect-
No. 59.

ing them with a chain of forts. It was his policy, after
he had subdued part of the country, to render it per-
manently attached to Rome, by introducing the plea-
sures and luxuries of the capital. He was the first to
sail round the island. In the year 84, having gone
beyond the Forth, he was opposed by a great concourse
of the rude inhabitants of the north, under a chief
named Galgacus, whom he completely overthrew at
Mons Grampim, or the Grampian Mountain; a spot
about which there are many disputes, but which was
probably at Ardoch in Perthshire, where there are still
magnificent remains of a Roman camp. Tacitus, a
writer related to Agricola, gives a very impressive
account of this great conflict, and exhibits the bravery
of the native forces as very remarkable; but the cor-
rectness of his details cannot be much relied on.

It appears that Agricola, while on the west coast
of Scotland, was desirous of making the conquest of
Ireland, which he thought would be useful, both as a
medium of communication with Spain, and as a posi-
tion whence he could overawe Britain. He formed an
acquaintance with an Irish chief, who, having been
driven from his country by civil commotions, was ready
to join in invading it. By him Agricola was informed
that the island might be conquered by one legion and
a few auxiliaries. The inhabitants, according to Tacitus,
bore a close resemblance to the Britons.

It is generally allowed that the Romans experienced
an unusual degree of difficulty in subduing the Britons;
and it is certain thnt they were baffled in all their at-
tempts upon the northern part of Scotland, which was
then called Caledonia. The utmost they could do with
the inhabitants of that country, was to build walls across
the island to keep them by themselves. The first wall
was built in the year 121, by the Emperor Hadrian,
between Newcastle and the Solway Firth. The second
was built by the Emperor Antoninus, about the year
140, as a connexion of the line of forts which Agricola
had formed between the Firths of Forth and Clyde.
This boundary was not long kept, for in 210 we find
the Emperor Severus fortifying the rampart between
the Tyne and Solway. Roman armies, however, pro-
bably under the command of Lollius Urbicus, nad
penetrated far beyond the more northerly wall, although,
unfortunately, no accounts of their reception are pre-
served. From comparing Roman remains lately dis-
covered with ancient geographies, it is held as estab-
lished that the Romans reached the north-east end of
Loch Ness, near the modem town of Inverness. The
number of roads and camps which they made, and the
regularity with which the country was divided into
stations, prove their desire to preserve these conquests.
When the conquest was thus so far completed, the
country was governed in the usual manner of a Roman
province; and towns began to rise in the course of
time — being generally those whose names are now
found to end in cheater, a termination derived from
cwtra, the Latin word for a camp. The Christian re-
ligion was also introduced, and Roman literature made
some progress in the country,

CONQUEST BY THE SAXONS.

At length a time came when the Romans could no
longer defend their own native country against the
nations in the north of Europe. The soldiers were then
withdrawn from Britain (about the year 440), and the
people left to govern themselves. The Caledonians,
who did not like to be so much straitened in the north,
took advantage of the unprotected state of the Britons
to pour in upon them from the other side of the wall,
and despoil them of tl.eir lives and goods. The British
had no resource but to call in another set of protectors,

129

OHAMBEB£PS INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

the Saxons, a warlike people who lired in the north of
Oennany, and the Jutes and Ane'.es, who inhabited
Denmark. The remedy itm found hardly any better
than the didease. Having once acquired a footing in
the island, these hardy strangers proceeded to make it
a subject of conquest, as the Romans had done before,
with this material difference, that they drove the Bri-
tish to the western parts of the island, particularly into
Wales, and settled, with new hordes of their country-
men, over the better part of the land. So completely
was the population changed, that, excepting m the
names of some of the hills and rivers, the British lan-
guage was extinguished, and even the name of the coun-
tiyitself was changed from what it originally was to
Angle-laud, or Enghuid, a term taken from the Angles.
The conquest required about a hundred and fifty years
to be effected, and, like that of l-.he Romans, it extended
no farther north than the Firths of Forth and Clyde.
Before the Britons were finally cooped up in Wales,
many battles were fought ; but few of these are accu-
rately recorded. The most distinguished of the British
generals were the Princes Vortimer and Aurelius Am-
Brosius. It is probably on the achievements 3f the
latter that the well-known fables of King Arthur and
his knights are founded.

England, exclusive of the western regions, was now
divided into seven kingdoms, called Kent, Northumber-
land, East Anglia, Mercia, Essex, Sussex, and Wessex,
each of which was governed by a race descended from
the leader who had first subdued it; and the whole
have since been called by historians the iScueon Hep-
tarchy, the latter word being composed of two Greek
words, signifying seven kingdoms. To the north of the
IF'crth dwelt a nation called the Picts, who also had a
king, and were in all probability the people with whom
Agricola Lad fought under the name of Caledonians.
In the Western Highlands there was another nation,
known by the name of the Scots, or Dalriads, who had
gtsdually migrated thither from Ireland, between the
middle of the third century and the year 503, when
they established, under a chief named Fergus, a mo-
narchy destined in time to absorb all t'ae rest. About
the year 700 there were no fewer than fifteen kings,
or chiefs, within the island, while Ire' and was nearly
in the same situation. In Britain, at the came time,
five languages were in use, the Latin, Saxon, Welsh,
the Pictish, and the Irish. The general power of the
country has been found to increase as these nations
and principalities were gradually amassed together.

Although three of the Saxon kingdoms, Wessex,
Mercia, and Northumberland, became predominant,
the Heptarchy prevailed from about the year 585 to
800, when Egbert, king of Wessex, acquired a para-
mount influence over all the other states, though their
kings still continued to reign. Alfre<l, so celebrated for
his virtues, was the grandson of Egbert, and began to
reign in the year 871. At this time the Danes, who
are now a quiet, inoffensive people, were a nation of
pirates, and at the same time heathens. They used to
come in large fleets, and commit dreadful ravages on
the shores of Britain. For some time they completely
overturned the sovereignty of Alfred, and compelled
him to live in obscurity in the centre of a marsh. But
he at length fell upon them when they thought them-
■elves in no danger, and regained 'he greater part of
his kingdom. Alfred spent the res . of his life in lite-
rary study, of which he was very ' id, and in forming
laws and regulations for the good of his people. He
was perhaps the most able, most virtuous, tuivi most
popular prince that ever reigned in Britain; and all
this is the more suri>ri8ing, when we find that his pre-
decessors and successors, for many ages, were ex-
trumely cruel and ignorant. He died in the year 901,
in the fifty-third year of his age.

CONqUKST BT THE NORItANg.

The Saxon line of princes continued to rule — with
the exception of three Danish reigns — till the year 1 0S6,
when *:he orown w»< in the ponession of a usurper

ISO *

named Harold. The country was then invaded by
William, Duke of Normandy, a man of illegitimate
birth, attended by a large and powerful army. Harold
opposed him at Hastings (October 14), and after a
well-contested battle, his array was defeated, and him-
self slain. William then caused himself to be crowned
king at Westminster; and in the course of a few years
he succeeded, by means of his warlike Norman fol-
lowers, in completely subduing the Saxons. His chiefs
were settled upon the lands of those who opposed him,
and became the ancestors of most of the present noble
families of England.

Previously to this period, the church of Romo, which
was the only surviving part of the power of that em-
pire, had established its supremacy over England. The
land was also subjected to what is called the feudal
system (see History of the MinoLE Aoes), by which
aJl proprietors of land were supposed to hold it from
the king for military service, while their tenants were
understood to owe them military terviee in turn for
their use of the land. All orders of men were thus
kept in a chain of servile obedience, while some of the
lower orders were actually slaves to their superiors.

In thoyecr 853, Kenneth, kin^ of the Scots, hod
added the Pictish kingdom to his own, and hia de-
scendant Malcolm II., in 1020, extended his dominions
over not only the south of Scotland, but a part of the
north of England. Thus, putting aside Wales, which
continued to be an independent country, under its own
princes, the island was divided, at the time of the Nor-
man Conquest, into two considerable kingdoms, Eng-
land and Scotland, as they were for some centuries
afterwards. Ireland, which had alto been invaded by
hordes from the north of Europe, was divided into a
number of small kingdoms, like England under the
Saxon Heptarchy.

EAULY NORKAN KINGS.

William, lumamed The Conquaror, reigned from
1066 to 1087, being chiefly engaged all that time in
completing the subjugation of the Saxons. He is allowed
to have been a man of much sagacity, and a firm ruler;
but his temper was violent, and his dispositions brutal.
At the time of his death, which took place in Normandy,
his eldest sou Robert happening to be at a greater dis-
tance from London than William, who was the second
son, the latter individual seized upon the crown, of
which he could not afterwards be dispossessed, till he
was 4hot accidentally by an arrow in the New Forest,
in the /ear 1100. Towards the close of this king's
reign, the whole of Christian Europe was agitated by
the first Crusade — an expedition for the recovery of the
Holy Land from the Saracens. Robert of Normandy
had a high command in this enterprise, and gained
much fame as a warrior; but while he was in Italy,
on his return, his youngest brother Henry usurped the
throne left vacant by William, so that he was again
disappointed of his birthright. Hbnry I. — samamed
Beauclerc, from his being a fine scholar — was a prince
of some ability; but he disgraced himself by putting
out the e^es of his eldest brother, and keeping him
nearly thirty years in confinement. Such barbarous
conduct shows that in this age might wa<i the onlv
ri^ht, and that men hesitated at no actions which
might promise to advance their own interests.

CoT'temporary with William the Conqueror in Eng-
land, was Malcolm III. in Scotland, sumamed Can-
more, from bis having a large head. This prince,
after overthrowing the celebrated usurper Macbeth,
married Margaret, a fugitive Saxon princess, through
whom his posterity became the heirs of that race of
English sovereigns. He was a good prince, and by
settling Saxon refugees upon his lowland territory, did
much to improve the character of the Scottish nation,
who are described as having been before this time a
nation in which there was no admixture of civilisi.tion.
At Malcclm's death, in 1093, the orown was contested
for A while by a usurper called Donald Bane, and the
elder ion« of the late monarch, but finally fell to the

t*^

mSTORT OP GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

petceable ponesBion of his youngeit aon Datid I., who
woiS k prince of much superior character, apparently,
to the Norman sovereigns who lived in the same age.
The church of Rome having now gained an ascendancy
in Scotland, David founded a considerable number of
monasteries and churches for the reception of the
ministers of that religion. All the most celebrated
abbacies in Scotland took their rise in his time.

Henry Beauclero of Ensland, in order to strengthen
his claim by a Saxon alliance, married Maud, the
daughter of Malcolm Canmore and of the Princess
Margaret. By her he had an only daughter of the
same name, whom he married first to the Emperor of
Germany, and then to Geoffrey Plantagenet, eldest son
of the Earl of Anjou, in France. This lady, and her
children by Plantagenet, were properly the heirs of the
Engluh crown; but on the death of Henry, in 1135,
it was seized by a usurper named Stephen, a distant
member of the Conqueror's family, who reigned for
nineteen years, during which the country was rendered
almost desolate by civil contests, in which David of
Scotland occasionally joined.

On the death of Stephen, in 1154, the crown fell
peacefully to Henrt II., who was the eldest son of
Maud, and the first of the Plantagenet race of sove-
reigns. Henry was an acute and politic prince, though
not in any re^Mct more amiable than his predecessors.
His reign was principally marked by a series of mea-
sures for reducing the power of the Romish clergy, m
the course of which some of his courtiers, in 1171,
thought they could not do. him a better service than to
murder Thomas-ik-Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury,
who had been the chief obstacle to his views, and was
one of the ablest and most ambitious men ever produced
in England. For his concern in this foul transaction,
Henry had to perform a humiliating penance, receiving
eighty lashes on his bare back from the monks of Can-
terbury. We are the less inclined to wonder at this
circumstance, when we consider that about this time
the Pope had power to cause two kings to perform the
menial service of leading his horse.

Heniy was the most powerful king that had yet
. reigned in Britain. Besides the great hereditary do-
mains which he possessed in France, and for which he
did homage to the king of that country, he exacted a
temporary homage from William of Scotland, the grand-
son of David, a monarch of great valour, who took the
surname of the Lion, and who reigned from 1166 to
1214. Henry also added Ireland to his dominions.
This island had previously been divided into five king-
doms — Munster, Leinster, Meath, Ulster, and Con-
naught. The poople, being quite uncivilised, were per-
petually quarrelling among uiemselves; and this, with
their heathen religion, furnished a flimsy pretext for
invading them from England. Dermot Macmorrough,
king of Leinster, having been dethroned by his subiects,
introduced an ^glish warrior, Richard, Earl of Strigul,
generally called Slrongbow, for the purpose of regaining
his possessions. A body composed oi oi knights, 90
esquires, and 460 archers, in all 600 men, was enabled
by its superior discipline to overthrow the whole war-
like force that could be brought against them; and
the conquest was easily completed by Henry in person,
who went thither in 1172. The mUitary lecders were
left to rule over the countrv; but they managed
their trust so ill, that the Irish never became peace-
able and improving subjects of the Norman king, as
the English had gradually done.

BICHARD CCEDH DE LION — ^JOHN — MAGNA CHARTA.

Henry II. was much troubled in his latter years by
the disobedience of his children. At his death, in 1 1 89,
he was succeeded by his son Richard, styled Ccevr de
Lion, or the Lion-hearttd, from his headstrong courage,
and who was much liked by his subjects on that ac-
count, though it does not appear that he possessed any
other good qualities. At the coronation of Richard,
the people ./ere permitted to massacre many thousands
of uooffendiiig Jews throughout the kingdom. Almost

immediately after his accession, he joined the king of
France in a second Crusade; landed in Palestine (1191),
and fought with prodigious valour, but with no good
result. On one occasion, being offended at a breitoh
of truce by his opponent Saladin, he beheaded <i000
prisoners ; whose deaths were immediately revenged
by a similar massacre of Christian prisoners. In 1 ) 92,
he returned with a small remnant of his gallant army,
and being shipwrecked at Aquileia, wandered in dis-
guise into the dominions of his mortal enemy the Duke
of Austria, who, with the Emperor of Germany, detained
him till he was redeemed by a ransom, which impove-
rished nearly the whole of his subjects. This prince
spent the rest of his life in unavailing wars with Philip
of France, and was killed at the siege of a castle in
Limousin, in 1199, after a reign of ten years, of which
he bad spent only about three months in England.

John, the younger brother of Richard, succeeded,
although Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, the son of an in-
termediate brother, was the proper heir. John, who
was at once vain, cruel, and weak, alienated the affec-
tions of his subjects almost at the very first by the
assassination of his nephew, which he is said to hare
performed with his own hands. The weakness of kings
IS often the means of giving increased liberties and
privileges to the people. The paltry tyranny and
wickedness of John caused his barons to rise against
him, and the result was, that, on the 19th June 1215,
he was compelled by them to sign what is called the
Magna Charta, or Great Charter, granting them many
privileges and exemptions, and generally securing the
personal liberty of his subj ects. The principal point con-
cerning the nation at large was, that no tax or supply
should be levied from th«m without their own consent
in a Great Council — the first idea of a Parliament. Some
excellent provisions were also made regarding courts
of law and justice, so as to secure all but the guilty.

The Pope, it appears, regarded the Magna Charta as
a shameful violation of the royal prerogative, and ex-
communicated its authors, as being worse, in his esti-
mation, than infidels. The opinisn of a leading mO'
dem historian is very different. He says, 'To have
produced the Great Charter, to have preserved it, to
have matured it, constitute the immortal claim of
England on the esteem of mankind.'

henrt III.— origin of parliament.
John, at his death in 1216, was succeeded by his son.
Henry I^J., a weak and worthless ] nee, who ascended
the throne in his boyhood, and reigaed fifty-six years,
without having performed one worthy act of sufficient
consequence to be detailed. In his reign was held the
first assemblage approaching to the character of a Par-
liament. It was first called in 1225, in order to give
supplies for carrying on a war against France. The
money was only granted on condition that the Great
Charter should be confirmed; and thus the example
was set at the veiy first, for rendering supplies a check
upon the prerogative of the king, and gradually reduc-
ing that power to its present comparatively moderate
level. Under the earlier Norman kings, and even, it
is believed, under the Saxons, an assembly called the
Great Council had shared with the sovereign the power
of framing laws; but it was only now that the hodj had
ar.y power to balance that of the sovereign, and it was
not till 1265 that representatives from the inLabitauts
of towns were introduced.

EDWARD I. AND 11.— ATIEMPTKD CONQUEST OF 8C0TUJID.

Henry III., at his death in 1272, vas succeeded by
his son Edward I., a prince as warl'.ke and sagacious
as his father was the reverse. He di'anguished himself
by his attempts to add Wales to his kingdom, an object
which he accomplished in 1282, by the ov^irthrow and
murder of Llewellen, the last prince of that country.
In the meantime, from the deatn of William the Lioa
in 1214, Scotland had been ruled by two princes, Alex-
ander II. and III., under whom it advanced consider-
ably in wealth, civilisation, and gomlDrt. On the death

131

CHAHBEBffB lOTOBMATIOH FOR THE PEOPLE.

of Alexander III., in 1285, the crown fell to his grand-
daughter Maboabbi, a young girl, whoie father wm
Eric, king of Norway. Edwartf formed a treaty with
the Estates of Scotland for a marri^e between thu
princess and his son, whom he styled Prince of Wales.
Unfortunately, the young lady died on her Toj»ge to
Scotland; and the crown was left to be disputed by a
multitude of distant relations, of whom John Bauol
and RoBBBT Bruck seemed to have the best right. lid-
ward being resolved to make Scotland his own at all
hazards, interfered in this dispute, and being appointed
arbitrator among the competitors, persuaded tnem to
own in the first place an ill-defined claim put forward
by himself of the right of paramountoy or superior
■overeignty over Scotland, When this was done, he
Mpointed Baliol to be his vassal king, an honour which
the unfortunate man was not long permitted to enjoy.
Having driven Baliol to resistance, he invaded the
country, overthrew his army, ivnd stripping him of his
sovereignty, assumed to himself the dominion of Scot-
land, as a right forfeited to him by the rebellion of his
Tassal. After he had retired, a brave Scottish gentle-
man, named William Wallace, raised an insurrection
against his officers, and defeating his army at Stirling
in 1298, cleared the whole country of its southern in-
vaders. But in the succeeding year, this noble patriot
wtw defeated by Edward in person at Falkirk, and the
English yoke was again imposed. It may be remarked,
that this could have hardly taken place if the com-
mon people, who rose with Wallace, and who were
wholly of Celtic and Saxon origin, had been led and
encouraged by the nobility. The grandees of Scotland,
and even the competitors for the crown, being recent
Norman settlers, were disposed to render obedfience to
the English sovereign.

Sone tiniA after the death of Wallace, while Edward
was engror d with his French wars, Robert Bbvce,
Earl of Cairick, grandson of him who had competed
with Baliol, conceived the idea of putting himself at the
hwd of the Scots, and endeavouring by their means
at jnoe to gain the crown, and to recover the indepen-
dence of the kingdom. After a series of adventures,
among which was the unpremeditated murder of a rival
named Corny n, Bruce caused himself, in 1306, to be
crowned at Scone. For some time after he had to skulk
as a fugitive, being unable to maintain his ground
against the English officers ; but at length he became
so formidable, that Edward found it necessary (1307)
to lead a large army against him. The English mo-
narch, worn out with fatigue and age, died on the coast
of the Solway Firth, when just within sight of Scotland,
leaving his sceptre to his son Edwabd II. That weak
and foolish prince immediately returned to London,
leaving Bruce to contest with his inferior officers.

After several years of constant skirmishing, during
which the Scottish king was able to maintain his ground,
Edward resolved to make one decisive effort to reduce
Scotland to subjection. In the summer of 1314, he
invaded it with an army of 100,000 men. Bruce drew
up his troops, which were only 30,000 in number, at
Bannockbum, near Stirling. Partly by steady valour,
and partly by the use of stratagems, the Scots were
▼ictonous, and Edward fled ignominiously from the
field. The Scottish king gained an immense booty, be-
sides securing his crown and the independence of his
count;y. He soon after sent his brother Edward, with
a body of troops, to Ireland, to assist the native chiefs
in resisting the English. This bold young knight was
crowned King of Ireland, and for some tune held his
ftound against the English forces, but was at length
defeated and slain.

The weakness of Edward II. 'nas chiefly shown in
a fi>ndness for favourites, into whose hands he com-
mitted the whole interests of his {.'ople. The first was
a low Frenchman, named Piers Gaveston, Who soon foil
» Tietim to the indignation of the barons. The second,
Hu^ Spencer, misgoverned the country for seveml
yeMfL tiU at length the Queen and Prince of Wales
raited an intumction against the king, and paused him

to be deposed, as quite unfit to reign. The Prince waf
then crowned as Eoward III. (1327), being as yet only
about fourteen yean of age; and in the course of a few
months the degraded sovereign was cruelly put to
death in Berkeley Castle.

During the minority of the young king, the reins of
government were held by his mother and the Earl of
March. Under their administration, a peace was con-
cluded with King Robert of Scotland, of which one of
the conditions was a full acknowledgment of the inde-
pendence of the Scottish monarchy, which had been a
matter of dispute for some ages.

EDWABD III. — BICBARD II.

Edward III., who soon after assumed full power, was
destined to make good the remark prevalent at this
time, that the kings of England were alternately r.ble
and imbecile. He was a wanike and sagacious mouArcb,
and inspired by all his grandfather's desire of conquest.
In 1329, Robert Bruce died, and was succeeded by his
infant son David II., to whom a young sister of the
English king was married, in terms of the late treaty.
Notwithstanding this connection, Edward aided a son of
John Baliol in an attempt to gain the Scottish crown.
Edward Baliol overthrew the Regent of Scotland at
Duplin, September 1332, and for two months reigned
as King of Scots, while David and his wife took refuge
in France. Though now expelled, Baliol afterwards
returned to renew nis claims, and for many years the
country was harassed by unceasing wars, in which the
English took a leading part.

But for his attention being diverted to France, Ed-
ward III. would have made a more formidable effort
to subdue Scotland, and might have succeeded. He
was led into a long course of warfare with France, iu
consequence of an absurd pretension which he made to
its crown. In the victories which he gained at Cressy
(August 26, 1346) and Poitiers (September 17, 1356),
the nat ional valour, his own, and that of his celebrated
son, tbe Black Prince, were shown conspicuously ; but
this Iftrish expenditure of the resources of his kingdom,
in which he was supported by his parliament, was of
no permanent benefit, even to himself, for whom alone
it was made. In those days, almost all men fouf^ht
well, but very few had the art to improve their vic-
tories. John, king of France, who had been made
captive at Poitiers, and David, king of Scotland, who
ha!d been taken in 1346, while conducting an invasion of
England, were at one time prisoners in England; but
no permanent advantage was ever gained over either of
the states thus deprived of their sovereigns. In 1361,
after about twenty years of active fighting, the English
king left France with little more territory than he had
previously enjoyed. Edward had invaded Scotland
with a powerful army in 1356, but without making any
impression. The Scots, under David's nephew, Robert
Stewart, effectually protected themselves, not only from
his arms, but from a proposal which David himself
basely undertook to make, that Lionel, the third sou of
the English king, should be acknowledged as his suc-
cessor. Edward died in 1377, a year after the decease
of his son the Black Prince; and notwithstanding all
their brilliant exploits, the English territories in France
were less than at the beginning of the reign,

England was at this time affected more than at any
other by the fashions of chivalry. This was a military
enthusiasm, which for some centuries pervaded all
Christian Europe. It prompted, as one of its first
principles, a heedless bravery in encounterin^r all kinds
of danger. Its votaries were expected to be particularly
bold in behalf of the fair sex, insomuch that a young
knight would sometimes challenge to mortal combat
any one who denied his mistress to be the loveliest in
the -^orld. Tournaments were held, at which knigkta
clad in complete armour would ride against each other
at full speed with levelled lances, merely to try which
had the greatest t.rength and skill ; and many were
killed on these occasions. It was a system full of ex-
travagance, and tending to bloodshed ; but neverthe*

Distort of orbat Britain akd Ireland.

at an/
ilitanr
Bed all
fint
1 kinds
cularly
young
!ombat
ieit in
nighU
1 other
which

l6H it maintained a certain courtuy towards fumalef,
and a romantic principle of honour, which we may be
glad to admire, considering how rude was almost every
other feature of the age.

Edward III. was succeeded by his grandson, Richard
II., then a boy of eleven years of age, and who proved
to be a person of weak and profligate character. The
Commons took advantage of the irregularity of his go-
Ternment to strengthen their prTileges, which they
had with difficulty sustained during the more pow«"^ul
rule of his predecessor. Early in this reigu iy
assumed the right, not only of taxing the coui>try, but
of seeing how the money was spent. Indignant at the
severity of a tax imposed upon all grown-up persons,
the peasantry of the eastern parts of England rose, in
1381, under a person of their own order, named Wat
Tyler, and advanced, to the number of 60,000, to Lon-
don, where they put to death the chancellor and pri-
mate, as evil counsellors of their sovereign. They de-
manded the abolition of bondage, the liberty of buying
and selling in fairs and markets, a general pardon, and
the reduction of the rent of land to an equal rate. The
king came to confer with them at Smithiield, where, on
some slight pretence, Walworth, mayor of London,
■tabbed Wat Tyler with a dagger — a weapon which
has since figured in the armorial bearings of the metro-
polis. The peasants were dismayed, and submitted,
and no fewer than fifteen hundred of them were
hanged. Wat Tyler's insurrection certainly proceeded
upon a glimmering sense of those equal rights of man-
kmd which have since been generally acknowledged;
and it is remarkable, that at the same time the doc-
trines of the reformer Wicklifie were first heard of.
This learned ecclesiastic wrote against the power of the
Pope, and some" of the most important points of the
Romish faith, and also executed a translation of the
Bible into English, His writings are acknowledged to
have been oi material, though not immediate efiect, in
bringing about the reformation of religion.

The country was misgoverned by Richard II. till
1399, when he was deposed by his subjects under the
leading of his cousin, Henry, Duke of Lancaster. This
person, though some nearer the throne were alive, was
crowned as Henry IV., and his predecessor, Richard,
was soon after murdered. In the meantime, David of
Scotland died in 1371, and was succeeded by Robert
Stewart, who was the first monarch of that family.
Robert I., dying in 1389, was succeeded by his son
Robert II., who was a good and gentle prince. He had
two sons, David and James : the former was starved
to death by his uncle, the Duke of Albany ; and the
latter, when on his way to France for his education,
was seized by Henry IV. of England, and kept captive
in that country for eighteen years. B;obert II. then
died of a broken heart (1406), and the kingdom fell
into the hands of the Duke of Albany, at whose death,
in 141S, it was governed by his son Duke Murdoch, a
very imbecile personage.

HOUSE OF LANCASTER.

Hflnry IV. proved a prudent prince, and compara-
tively a good ruler. The settleme:.t of the crown upon
him by parliament was a good precedent, though per-
haps only dictated under the influence of his successful
arms. He was much troubled by insurrections, parti-
cularly a formidable one by Percy, Earl of Northum-
berland — and one still more difficult to put down in
Wales, where Owen Qlendower, a descendant of the
British princes, kept his ground for several years.

On the death of Henry IV, in 1413, he was succeeded
by his son, who was proclaimed under the title of
Henrt V. The young Kine attained high popularity,
on account of his impartial administration of j-tstice,
and his zeal to protect the poor from the oppressions
of their superiors. His reign is less agreeably marked
by the pe'-^utions of the Lollards, a body of religious
teformeia, many of whom were condemned to the
flames. Being determined to use every endeavour to
gain the crown of France, which ho considered his by

right of birth, he laided in Normandy with 30,000 men

(August MIA), apd gave battle to a much superior
?rce of the French at Agincourt. He gained a com-
plete victory, which was sullied by his afterwards or-
dering a massacre of his prisoners, under the appre-
hension that an attempt was to be made to rescue them.
The war was carried on for some years longer, and
Henry would have probably succeeded in making good
his claim to the French crown, if he had not died
prematurely of a dysentery (August 31, 1422), in the
thirty-fourth year of his age, leaving the throne to an
infant nine months old, who was proclaimed as H £NBT
VI,, King of France and England,

Under Henry VI,, \7h08e power was for some time
in the hands of his uncle the Duke of Bedford, the
English maintained their footing in France for several
years, and at the battle of Vemeuil, in 1424, rivalled
the glory of Cressy and Poitiers. At that conflict, a
body of Scotch, 7000 strong, who had proved of mate-
rial service to the French, were nearly cut off. In
1428, when France seemed completely sunk beneath
the English rule, the interests of the native prince were
suddenly revived by a simple maiden, named Joan of
Arc, who pretended to have been commissioned by
Heaven to save her country ; and entering into the
French army, was the cause of several signal reverses
to the English, By her enthusiastic exertions, and
the trust everywhere reposed in her supernatural cha>
racter, Charles VII. was crowned at Uheims in 1430.
Being soon after taken prisoner, the heroic maiden was,
by the English, condemned for witchcraft, and burnt.
Nevertheless, about the year 1453, the French mo-
narch had retrieved the whole of his dominions ftom
the English, with the exception of Calais.

Hehry VI. was remarkable for the extreme weakness
of his character. His cousin, Richard, Duke of York,
descended from an elder son of Edward III., and there-
fore pcssessed of a superior title to the throne, con-
ceived that Henry's imbecility affi)rded a good oppor-
tunity for asserting what he thoui;ht his birthright.
Thus commenced the famous Wars of the Roses, as tney
were called, from the badges of the families of York
and Lancaster — the former of which was a red, while
the latter was a white rose. In 1454, the duke gained
a decisive victory over the forces of Henry, which were
led by his spirited consort, Margaret of .^tjjou. In
some succeeding engagements the friends of Henry
were victorious; and at length, in the battle of Wake-
field (December 24, 1460), the forces of the Duke of
York were signally defeated, and himself, with one of
his sons, taken and put to death. His pretensions were
then taken up by his eldest son Edward, who, with the
assistance of the Earl of Warwick, gained such advan-
tages next year, that he assumed the crown. Before
this was accomplished, many thousands had fallen on
both sides. Henry, who cared little for the pomp of
sovereignty, was confined in the Tower.

Scotland, in the meantime (1424), had redeemed her
king from his captivity in England; and thp.t prince,
styled James I,, had proved a great legislator and re-
former, not to speak of his personal accomplishments
in music and literature, which surpassed those of every
contemporary monarch. James did much to reduce
the Highlands to an obedience under the Scottish go-
vernment, and also to break up the enormous power
of the nobles. By these proceedings, however, he ex-
cited a deep hatred in the bosoms of some of his sub-
jects; and in 1437 he fell a victim to assassination at
Perth. He was succeeded by his infant son, James II.,
the greater part of whose reign was spent in a harass-
ing contention with the powerful house of Douglas,
and who was finally killed, in the flower of his age, by
the bursting of a cannon before Roxburgh Castle. His
successor, Jame.s III., was also a minor, and, on reach-
ing man's estate, proved to be a weak, though not ill-
meaning prince. He fall a victim, in 1488, to a con-
spiracy formed by his subjects, and which was led by
his eldest son. The morality of princes in this age
seems to have been much upou a par with that ascribvi'

1S3

CBAUBIBSV nrOBlUTION VOB THB PBOPU.

to tk« Tttffclih WTtwSgM of » later pwriod. They neTer
•oraiJed to dettroy lift, either within the circle of their
own flwiUy. or out of it, when it luited their intereits
or their MubiUon to do lo.

HOUU OF TORK.

Edward, of the Uouie of York, ityled Edwakd IV.,
who commenced hii reign in the nineteenth vear of hii
Me, reigned ten year*, peqfetually dirturbed by renewed
attempt! of the lAnoattnan pwtv, of which ho morci-
leiily laorifioed many thouiands who fell into his handi.
At length, havina offended the V.mI of Warwick, who
had been chiefly initrumental iu placing him upon the
thnme, that powerful nobleman raised an insurrection
againit him, and in eleven days wai master of the
jungdom, while Edward had to take refuge on the con-
tinent. Henry VI. waa then restored, and Warwick
acquired the title of King-maker. Nine mouths after
(1471), Edward landed with a small body of followers,
and having culled his partisans around him, overthrew
and killed Warwick at St Alban's. Margaret of Aigou,
who had fought battles for her husband iu almost every
proTinoe of Eneland, gathered a new army, and opposed
Edward at Tewkesbury Park, where she was completely
defeated. Her son and husband being taken, were
murdered in cold blood, and she herself spent the re-
mainder of her singular life in France. Edward reigned ,
a profligate and a tyrant, till 1483, when he died in the
forty-second year of his age. He had previously caused
his brother, the equally profligate Duke of Clarence,
to be drowned in a butt of malmsey wine.

During the reign of Edward IV., the plague fre-
quently broke out in England, and carried oflf immense
numbers of the people. It was particularly fatal in
London, and in all other places where many houses
were huddled closely together, v?ith imperfect means of
deuiing and ventilation. It was calculated that the
disease, on one occasion in this reign, destroyed as
many livei as the fifteen years' war. The plague did
not cease to occur in England, as well as in other
European countries, until considerable improvements
had taken place in the habits of the people, especially
in pokt of cleanliness.

En./<uu> v., the eldest son of Edward IV., waa a boy
of eleven yean when he succeeded to the crown. Hu
uncle, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, a wicked and de-
formed wretch, soon afler contrived to obtain the chief
power, and also to cause the murder of the young king
and his still younger brother in the Tower. He then
mounted the throne under the title of Kicuako III.
For two years, this disgrace to humanity continued to
reign, though universally abhorred by his people. At
lei^th, in 14ftS, Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, a
eonneiion rather than a descendant of the Lancaster
family, resolved to make an attempt upon the English
crown. Having landed with about 2000 followers at
Milford Haven, he advanced into the country, and
qteedily gained such accessions of force as enabled
mm to meet and overthrow Richard at Bosworth
Field, where the tyrant was slain, and the victorious
Richmond was immediately proclaimed king, under the
title of Hknby VII. The new monanh soon after
■ought to strengthen his title by marrying Elizabeth,
the daughter and heir of Edward IV., by which it was
Mid the families of York and Lancaster were united.

HODSE OF TUDOB — HENRY VII.

Under Henry VII. the country revived from the
ovils of a long civil war, in the course of which the
oUef nobility had been broken down, and the industry
and commerce of the land interrupted. It was remark-
able, nevertheless, that, during the past period, Eng-
land was upon the whole an improving country. The
evils of war had fallen chiefly on those who made it;
the government, however disturbed by various claim-
anta of tlie throne, was mild and equitable — at least as
compared -ith that of other countries; and the people
■t laig* throve under a system in which their own
ooBient, by th» roico of the Uouae of Commons, was
IM

necessary to the makbg of avery now law, and tlie
laying on of every tax.

The reign of Henry VII. waa much disturbed by
inkurrections, iu consequence of his imperfect title. A
baker's boy, named Lambert Symnel, and a Jew's son,
numed Perkin Warbeck, were successively set up by
the York party— the one as a son of the late Duke of
Clarence, and the other as the younger brother of
Edward V., but were both defeated. Warbeck waa
hanged at Tyburn in 1499; and uearl> about the same
time, Henry procured, by forms of law, the death of
the Earl of VVarwick, the real son of the late Duke of
Clarence, a poor idi( i boy, whom he had kept fifteen
years in confinement, and whose title to the throne,
being superior to his own, rendered him uneasy.

Henry, thoueh a cruel prince, aa were most of the
sovereigns of his age, was a sagacious and peaceful
ruler. He paid great attention to all hia affairs, and
in some of his acts looked far beyond the present time.
For example, by marrying his daughter Margaret to
James IV. of Scotland, he piovided for the possibility
of the future union of the two crowns. By a law allow-
ing men of property to break entails, he ensured the
reduction of the great lords, and the increase of the
number of small proprietors. His constant policr waa
to depress the chief nobles, and to elevate the clergy,
lawyers, and men of new families, as most likely to be
dependent on him. The greatest fault of his character
was his excessive love of money, of which he amassed
an immense sura. During his reign, Irelard was made
more dependent on the English crown by a statute
prohibiting any parliament from being held iu it until
the king should give his consent.

HENRY Tin.

Henry VII. died in April 1509, in the fifty-third
year of his age. His eldest surviving son and successor,
Henry VIII., was now in his eighteenth vear. Young,
handsome, and supposed to be amiablu, ne enjoved at
first a high degree of popularity. Some years before,
he had been a^anced to Catherine, a Spanish princess,
who had previously been the wife of his deceased
brother Arthur : he was now married to this lady, the
Pope having previously granted a dispensation for that
purpose. For many years the reign of Henry was un-
marked by any unusual incidents. The chief admini-
stration of affairs was committed to a low-born but
proud churchman, the celebrated Cardinal Wolsey.
The king became much engaged in continental politics;
and during a war which he carried on against France,
his brother-in-law James IV., who sided with that state,
made an unfortunate irruption into the north of Eng-
land, and was overthrown and slain, with the greater
part of his nobility (September 9, 1513), at; Flodden.

About this time some changes of great importance
to European society took place. Almost ever since the
destruction of the Roman Empire, the natioiiS which
arose out 3f it had remained in subjection to the Papal
Sec, which might be said to have inherited the universal
sway of that government, but altered from an authority
over the bodies of men to an empire over their minds.
In the opinion of many, this authority of the Roman
Catholic religion had in the course of time become
much abused, while the T«Iigion itself was corrupted by
many superstitious observances. So long as. men had
rontmued to be the thoughtless warriors and unlettered
peasants which they had been in the middle ages, it is
not probable thi\t they would ever have called in ques-
tion either the authority of the Pope or the purity of
the Catholic faith. But, with knowledge, and the rise
of a commercial and manufacturing class, came a dis-
position to inquire into the authority of this 'great reli-
gious empire. The art of printing, discovered about
the middle of the preceding century, and which waa
now rendering literature accessible to most classes of
the community, tended greatly to brlag abotit this re-
volution in European in*;ellect. The minds of men,
indeed, aeem at this time m if awaking from a long
rleep; and it might well have been a queation with

HIST0B7 07 QBEAT BBITAIN AlfD IBELAIO).

long
with

panou who luid reflection, but no experience, whether
the change wu to turn to evil or to good.

When jnen'g minds aie iii a state of preparation for
any great change, a rery small matter is required to
set them in motion. At Wirtomberg, in (Jermany,
there was an Augustine monk, named Martin Luther,
who became incensed at the lloman see, in ccaseqnence
of some iujunr which he conceived to hare been done
to his_ order by the Pope having granted the pr ^ge
of selling indulgences to the Dominican order o' .i..trs.
Being a man of a bold and inquiring mind, he did not
rest satisfied till he had convinced himself, and manv
otaers around him, that the indulgences were sinful,
u id that the Pope had no right to grant them. This
happened about the year 1517. Controversy and per-
secution gradually extended the views of Luther, till
he at length openly disavowed the authority of the
Pope, and condemned some of the most important pe-
culiarities of the Catholic system of worship. In these
proceedings, Luther was countenanced by some of the
states in Germany, and his doctrines were speedilj^
established in the northern countries of Europe.

THE REFOHMATION.

Henry VIII., as the second son of his father, had
been originally educated for the church, and still re-
tained a taste for theological learning. He now distin-
guished Limself by writing a book against the Lutheran
doctrines; and the Pope was so much pleased with it as
to grant him the title of Defender q/ me Faith. Henry
was not destined, however, to continue long an adherent
of tho Roman pontiff. In the year 1527, he became
enamoured of a young gentlewoman named Anne Bo-
loyn, who was one of his wife's attendants. He imme-
diately conceived the design of annulling his marriage
with Catherine, and marrying this younger and more
agreeable person. Finding a pretext for such an act
in the previous marriage of Catherine to his brother,
he attempted to obtain from the Pope a decree, declar-
ing his own marriage unlawful, and that the dispensa-
tion upon which it had proceeded was beyond the powers
of the former Pope to grant. The pontiff (Clement
VII.) was much perplexed by this request of King
Henry, because he could not accede to it without of-
fending Charles V., Emperor of Oermany, one of his
best supporters, and the brother of Queen Catherine,
and at the sume time humbling the professed powers
of the Papacy, which were now trembling I'uder the
attacks of Luther.

Henry desired to employ the influence of his minister.
Cardinal Wolsey, who had now reached a degree of
opulence and pride never before attained by a subject
of England. But Wolsey, with all his sreatness, could
not venture to urge a matter disagreeable to the Pope,
who was more his master than King Henry. The pro-
cess went on for several years, and still his passion for
Anne Boleyn continued unabated. Wol'-sy at length
fell under the king's displeasure for refusing to serve
him in this object, was stripped of all his places of
power and wealth, and in November 1530, expired at
Leicester Abbey, declaring that, if he had served his
God as diligentljr as his kmg, he would not thus have
been given over in his gray hairs. The uncontrollable
desire of the king to possess Anne Boleyn, was destined
to be the immediate cause of one of the most important
changes that ever took place in England — ^no less than
a total reformation of the national religion. In order
to annul his marriage with Catherine, and enable him
to many Anne Boleyn, he found it necessary to shake
off the authority of the Pope, and procure himself to
be acknowledged in Parliament as the supreme head
of the English church. His marriage with Anne took
place in 1533, and in the same year was bom his cele-
brated daughter Elizabeth.

In 1536, Henry became as anxious to put away
Queen Anne as he hod ever been to rid himself of
Queen Catherine. He had contracted a passion for
Jane Seymour, a young lady then of the queen's bed-
chamber, as Anne hersm had been in that of Catherine.

In order to gratify this new passion, he aeeuied Anne
of what appears to have been an iroaginarr frailty, and
within a month from the time when she had been an
honoured queen, she was beheaded (May 19) iu the
Tower. On the very next di>.y he married Jane Sey-
mour, who soon after died iu giving birth to a son
(afterwards Edward VI.) His dau(r,hters, Mary and
.Elizabeth, were declared illegitimate by act of Parlia*
ment, and therefore excluded from the succession.

Hitherto, though professing independence of Home,
Henry still maintained, and even enforced, by severe
and bloody laws, tho most of its doctrines. He now
tcok measures for altering this system of worship to
something nearer the Lutheran model, and also for
suppressing the numerous monasteries throughout the
countrpr. Being posaessed of more despotic power, and,
what IS stranger still, of inore popularity, than any
former sovereign of England, he was able to encounter
the dreadful risk of o&endiug by these means a vastly
powerful corporation, which seems, moreover, to have
bsen regarded with much sincere affection and respect
in many parts of England. No fewer than 645 monas-
teries, 2374 chantories and chapels, !)0 colleger, and
110 hospitals, enj oy ing altogether a revenue of £ 1 6 1 ,000,
were broken up by this powerful and uuscrupulooa
monarch. He partly seized the revenues for his own
use, and partly jj^ave them away to the persons who
most actively assisted him, and who seemed most able
to protect his government from the effects of such a
sweeping reform. By this act, which took place in
1537, the Reformation was completed iu England. Yet
for many years Henry vacillated so much in his opi-
nions, and enforced these with such severe enactments, '
that many persons of both religions were burnt as
heretics. It was iu the southern and eastern parts of
England, where the commercial classes at this time
chietly resided, taat the doctrines of the Reformation
were most prevalent. In the western and northern
parts of the country, Catholicism continued to flourish;
and in Ireland, which was remotest of all from the conti-
nent, the Protestant faith made little or no impression.

After the death of Jane Seymour, Henry married
Anne of Cleves, a German princess, with whose person,
however, he was not pleased; and he therefore divorced
her by an act of Parliament. He next married Cathe-
rine Howard, niece to the Duke of Norfolk; but hod
not been long united to her when he discovered that she
had committed a serious iidiscretion before marriage.
This was considered a sii&icient reason for beheading
the unfortunate queen, and atcninting all her relations.
Though Henry had thus murdered two wives, and di-
vorced other two, and become, moreover, a monster in
lorm as well as in his passions and mind, he succeeded
in obtaining for his sixth wife (1543) Catherin«> larr,
widow of Lord Latimer, who, it is certain, only con-
trived to escape destruction by her extraordinary pru-
dence. Almost all who ever served Henry VIII. as
ministers, either to his authority or to his pleasures,
were destroyed by him. Wolsey was either driven to
suicide, or died of a broken heart ; Thomas Cromwell,
who succeeded that minister, and chiefly aided the king
11 bringing about the Reformation — Sir Thomas More,
loi-d chancellor, the most virtuous, most able, and most
consistent man of his time — the Earl of Surrey, who
was one of tho most accomplished knights of the a^e,
and thp first poet who wrote the English language with
perfect taste — all suffered the some fate with Anne
Boleyn and Catherine Howard.

When James IV. died at Flpdden, in 1513, the
Scottish crown fell to his infant son James V., who
struggled through a turbulent minority, and was now a
gay, and, upon the whole, an amiable prince. Hia uncle,
Henry VIII., endeavoured to br.ng him into his views
respecting religion ■ but James, who was much in the
power of the Catholic clergy, appears to have wished to
become the head of the Popish party iu England, iu the
hope of succeeding, by their means, to the throne of
that country. A war latterly broke out between th«
two mouarchs, Mid the Scottish anuy having refiued

13$

OHAUBBRM IMFOBMATION FOB ITHB P10PL&

to flikk, from » dl.llk« to tb« •xpoditlon, JMnei di»d
(DMombor 1442) of % broken howrt, lo»Tliig »n only
child. Mart, who WM not ftboYe • weok old. Henry
imm«di»t«ly oonceiTod tho ide» of luarnnng hi« wn
Edwud to thii infwit queen, by which he o»Ioul»ted
th»t two hoitile nutioni ihould bo united under one
•orereignty. Mid the ProteetMit church in England be
npported by • iiniilw eeUbliihment in Bcotl»nd. Thw
pr^, howerer, wm reilited by the Scoti, of whom
nn few M yet were inclined to the I'roteituit doctrinei.
Henry, enraged at their heeitation, lent a fleet and
army, in 1544. to inflict vengeance upon them. The
Scot* endured with great patience the burning of their
capital city, and manv other devaatations, but still to-
Aued the match. The government of Scotland was
now chiefly in the handi of Cardinal Beaton, a man of
liold and deciiire intellect, who zealously applied himself
to aappreH the reforming preachers, and locarded the
English match as likely to bring about the destruction
of tne Catholic religion.

KOWABD VI. — qUKKN HARY.

Henry died, January 28, 1547, leaving the throne to
his only son, a boy of ten y^ars of age, who was imme-
diately pro«d&imed king under the title of Edward
VI. The Duke of Somerset, maternal uncle to the
young king, became suprome ruler under the title of
Protector, and continued to maintain the Protestant
doctrines. Under this reign, the church of England
aseumed its present form, and the Bool^ of Common
I^yer waa composed nea . !y as it now eziets. Somerset
being resolved to effect, if possible, the match between
Edward VI. and Mary of Scotland, invaded that countrr
in the autumn of 1547, and was met at Musselburgh
br a large army under the governor, the Earl of Arran.
Though the Scotch were animated by bitter animosity
uainst the Eiiglish, against their religion, and against
the object of their expedition, thev did not fight with
their usual resolution, but were defeated, and pursued
with great slaughter. Finding them still obstmate in
niUting to give up their queeu, Somerset laid waste a
great ^at of the country, and then retin i. Previous
to this period. Cardinal Beaton had been assassinated
by private enemies; but the Scotch were encouraged to
persevere by the court of France, to which they now
sent the young queen for protection.

In the reign of Edward VI. the government was
conducted mildly, until the Protector Somerset was
degraded from his authority by the rising influence of
Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, who caused him soon
after to be tried and executed. Northumberland, who
waf secretly a Roman Catholic, was not so mild or
popular a ruler. Yet, throughout the whole reign of
Edward VI., which was terminated by his death on the
6th of July 1553, at th'. early age of sixteen, no reli-
gious party waa pet-.outed, except those who denied
the fundamental doctrines of the Christian religion. It
would have been well fur the honour of a church which
has produced many great men, and to which the modem
world is indebted for the very existence of Christianity,
if it had not been tempted after this period to com-
mence a very different course of action. The crown now
belonged by birthright to Mart, the eldest daughter
of Henry VIII., who was a zealous Catholic. Northum-
berland, however, assuming the illegitimacy of that
princess and her sister Elizabeth, set up as queen the
Lady Jane Orey, who was descended from a younger
sister of King Henry, and who had been married to a
■on of the Duke of Northumberland. Lady Jane was
the most beautiful, most intelligent, and most amiable
of all the females who appear in the history of England.
Though <mlT seventeen, she was deeply learned, and yet
preferred all the una^cted graces of character proper
to her interesting age. Un£rtunately, her father-in-
law Northumberland wa< so much disliked, that the
Catholica were r- tabled to displace her from the throne
in eight days, and to act up in hor stead the Princess
Mary. Northumberland, Lady June, and her husband,
Gniidford, Lord Dudley, werr all beheaded by that
13i

■avaoe princess, who soon after took steps for wstortnk^
the Catnolio religion, and married Philip II., king of
Spain, in order to strengthen herself against the Pro-
testant interest. Mary experienced some resistance
from her Protestant subjects, ar.d being under great
suspicion of her sister Elixabeth, who professed the re-
formed faith, but took no part against her, was almost
on the point of ordering her to execution also. As soon
as she had replaced the Catholic system, and found
herself in possession of suflicient powet, she began that
career of persecution which has rendered her name so
infamous. Five out of fourteen Protestant bishops, in-
cluding the revered namek of Cranmer, Latimer, and
hidley, were committed to the flames as heretics; and
during the ensuing part of her reign, which was closed
by her death, November 17, 1558, nearly three hun-
dred persons suffered in the same nj nner. These scenes
did not take place without exciting borror in the minds
of Kngliiihmen in general, including even many Catho-
lics; but the royal authority was at all times too great
under this line of princes to allow of effectual resistance.
Such a persecution, however, naturally fixed in the
minds of the British Protestants a hereditary horror
for the name of Catholic, which has in its turn been
productive of many retaliatory persecutions, almost
equally to be lamented. In the latter part of her reign,
she was drawn by her husband into a war with France,
of which the only effect waa the loss of Calais, the last
of the French possessions of the sovereigns of Ilngland.
The natural sourness of Mary's temper was increased
by this disgraceful event, as well as by her want of
children, and she died in a state of great unhappiness.

ELIZABETH — HART, qUKEN OF 8COT8 — RKFORMATION
IN SCOTLAND.

A more auspicious scene opened for England in the
accession of Elizabeth, a princess of great native vigour
of mind, and who had been much improved by adver-
sity, having been kept in prison during the whole reign
of her sister. From the peculiar circumstances of Eliza-
beth's birth, her right of succession was denied by all
the Catholics at home and abroad. This party con-
sidered Mary, Queen of Scots, who was descended from
the eldest sister of Henry VIII., and had been brought
up in the Catholic faith at the court of France, at their
legitimate sovereign. Elizabeth had no support in any
quarter, except among her Protestant subjects. The
Pope issued a bull, wnich, directly or indirectly, pro-
nounced her a usurper, and gave permission to her
subjects to remove her from the throne. The court of
France professed to consider the Queen of Scots, who
had recently been married to the Dauphin, as the
Queen of England. Under these circumstances, Eliza-
beth found no chance of safety except in restoring and
maintaining the Protestant religion in her own country,
and in seeking to support it in all others where the
people were favourable to it. The Scottish nation being
now engaged in a struggle with their regent, Mary of
Guise, in behalf of Protestantism, Eliaabeth gladly ac-
ceded to a proposal made by the nobles of that country,
and sent a party of troops, bv whose assistance the re-
formed religion was established (1560). In bringing
about this change, the chief native leaders were James
Stewart, a natural son of King James V.> and John
Knox, who had once been a friar, but was now a Pro-
testant preacher. As a natural consequence of the
obligation which the English queen had conferred upon
the Scottish reformers, she acquired an influence over
the country which was never altogether lost.

About the time when the Scottish Parliament was
establishing the reformed religion, Mary of Guise
breathed her last, leaving the country to be managed
by the reforming nobles. Her daughter, the Queen of
Scots, now eighteen years of age, and the most beauti-
ful woman of her time, had in 1559 become the queen-
consort of France; but in consequence of the death of
her husband, she was next year left without any poli-
tical interest in that country. Sho accordingly, in
August 1561, returned to Scotland, and assumed the

BISTORT OF GREAT BBITAIK AKO IRELAKD.

Mvcnlgn'.jr of a country which wm chiefly under the
rule of fierce uoblei, and where the people, from the
difllbrenoe of their religioui faithf, ai well a* their natire
barl>ariiini, were little fitted to yield her the obedience
of loyal and loving lubjecti.

The chance of religion in Scotland waa of a more
decisive kind than it nau been in Kn/land. The Eng-
li«h 1^' lonnation had been eft'ected by lovereigni who,
while they wiihed to throw oft' the Rupremaoy of the
Pope, and loine of the Catholio rites, deiired to gire
M little way at pouible to popular principles. They
therefore not only leized the lupreniacy of the church
to themaelvei, but, by biihopi and other dignitariei,
mode it an efiiciout instrument for supporting monarchi-
cal government. In Scotland, where the iteformation
was effected by the nobles and the people, at a time
when still bolder principles had sprung up, none of this
machinery of power was retained. The clergy were
placed on a footing of perfect equality ; they were all
of them engaged in parochial duties, and only a small
part of the ancient ecclesiastical revenues was allowed
to them. In imitation of the system established at
Geneva, their general affairs, instead of being intrusted
to the hands of bishops, were confided to courts formed
by themselves. These courts, being partly formed by
lay elders, kept up a sympathy and attachment among
the community, which has never existed in so great a
degree in the English church. What was of perhaps
■till greater importance, while a large part of the an-
cient revenues was absorbed bv the nobbs, a very con-
■iderable portion was devoted to the maintenance of
parish Khools, under the express control of the clergy.
These at once formed regular nurseries of Protestant
Christians, and disseminated the elements of learning
more extensively over this small and remote country
than it had ever been over any other part of tho world.
Queen Mary, ho ing little power in her own country,
was obliged to govo n by means of her natural brother,
James Stewart, whom she created Earl of Moray, and
who was the loader of the Protestant interest in Scot-
land. Personally, however, she was intimately con-
nected with thd great Catholic powers of the continent,
and became a party, in 1564, to a coalition formed by
them for the suppression of Protestantism all over
Europe. She had never yet resigned her pretensions to
tho English throne, but lived in the hope that, when
the Catholics succeeded in everywhere subduing the
Protestants, she would attain that object. Elizabeth,
who had only the support of the Protestant part of her
own subjects, with a friendly feeling among the Scotch
and other unimportant Protestant nations, had great
reason to dread the confederacy formed against her.
She nevertheless stood firm upon the Protestant faith,
and the principles of a comparatively liberal and popu-
lar government, as the only safe position.

A series of unfortunate events threw Maiy into the
hands of Elizabeth. The former queen, in 1565, married
her cousin Lord Darnley, and by that means alienated
the affections of her brother and chief minister, the
Earl of Morav, as well as of other Protestant lords, who
raised a rebellion against her, and were obliged to fly
into England. Soon after, the jealousy of Darnley
respecting an Italian musician named Rizzio, who
acted as French secretary to the queen, united him in
a conspiracy with the banished Protestant noblemen
for the murder of that humble foreigner, which was
effected under Tcrv barbarous circumstances, March
9, 1566. Mary, who was delivered in the succeeding
June, of her son James, withdrew her affections entirely
from her husband, and began to confide chiefly in the
Earl of Both well, who some months afterwards caused
Darnley to be blown up by eunpowder, while he lay in
a state of sickness; in which transaction it has always
been suspected, but never proved, that the queen had
a considerable share. Bothwell soon after forced her,
in appearance, into a marriage, which excited so much
indignation among her subjects, that the same Protes-
tant lords who had effected the Reformation, and were
the friends of Elizabeth, easily obtained the possession

of her person, and having deposed her, crowned hef
infant son as king, under the title of Jamks VI., while
the regency was vested in the Earl of Morav. In May
1 568, Mary escaped from her prison in Locbleven, and
put herself at the head of a b<Mlv of her partisans, but
w as defeated by the regent at tne battle of Langslde,
and was then compelled to seek refuge in England.
By placing her rival under strict confinement, and ex-
tending an effectual protection to the regents Moray,
Lennox, Mar, and Morton, who successively governed
Scotland, Elizabeth fortified herself in a greaC degree
against the Catholio confederacy.

aOVERNMBNT OF ELIZABBTH.

It has already been seen that the liberties of the
people were much favoured by the frequent interrup-
tions in the succession to the crown. Whenever one
branch of the Plantagenet family displaced another,
^he new king, feeling himself weak, endeavoured to
strengthen his title by procuring a parliamentary en-
actment in support of it. It thus became established
as a regular principle in the English government, that
the people who were represented in parliament had
something to say in the ap'^ointment of their king. A
considerable change, however, had taken place since
the accession of Henry VII. The great power acquired
by that king, through his worldly wisdom and the de-
struction of the nobility during the civil wars, had been
handed down through four successive princes, who in-
herited the crown by birthright, and did not require to
cringe to the people for a confirmation of their title.
The parliaments, therefore, were now a great deal more
under the control of the sovereign than they had for-
merly been. From an early period of his reign, Henry
VIII. never permitted his parliament to oppose his will
in the least. To the various changes of religion under
successive sovereigns, the parliaments presented no ob-
staclc. An idea was now be^ning to arise, very much
through the supremacy which the sovereign! had ac-
quired over the church, that the right of the crown waa
one derived from Qod, and that the people had nothing
to do with it, except to obey what it dictated to them.
Of this notion, no one took so much advantage, or waa
at so much pains to impress it, as Elizabeth. No doubt
her arbitrary measures were generally of a popular
nature, yet this does not excuse them in principle;
and their ultimate mischief is seen in the attempts of
future sovereigns to pursue worse ends upon the same
means. Elizabeth's government consisted entirely of
herself and her ministers, who were, from the begin-
ning to the end of her reign, the very spirit and es-
sence of the enlightened men of England. Her prime
minister was the celebrated Lord Burleigh, by far the
roost sagacious man who ever acted as a minister in
Britain ; and all her emissaries to foreign courts were
of one complexion — circumspect and penetrating men,
ardently devoted to their country, their mistress, and
to the Protestant religion.

On the accession of Elizabeth, the two celebrated
acts of Supremacy and Conformity were passed, for the
purpose of crushing the political influence of the Popish
religion; an end which they sufiiciently accomplished.
By the act of supremacy, all beneficed clergymen, and
all holding oflices under the crown, w^re compelled to
take an oath abjuring the temporal and spiritual juris-
diction of any foreirn prince or prelate, on pain of for-
feiting their offices, while any one maintaining such
supremacy was liable to heavy penalties. The other
statute prohibited any one from following any clergy-
man who was not of the established religion, under pain
of forfeiting his goods and chattels for the first offence,
of a year's imprisonment for the second, and of im-
prisonment during life for the third; while it imposed
a fine of a shilling on any one absenting himself from
the established church on Sundays and holidays. By
means of a court of ecclesiastical commission, which the
queen erected, these laws, and others of a more trifling
and vexatious nature, were enforced with great severity.
. It may afford some idea of the barbarity of the age, and

1S7

oamBiBm orroBiunov iob ths noru.

of tiM Umt In which th« church of Uonw wM now
held, that, during tht rtipi of KllMboth, on. hund«d
»nd aLthty pwBoni luffimd dMkth by the Uwi •fftcting
CkthoUo pnwto Mid conrtrti.

WiB IN TBI nnUMUhJkHM.

For mow thwi • ctnturjr »ft«r the Rcforrofttion.
Nligion WM the reel or eppwent motire of the moet
itraarkeble tranaectione in Europeen hiitory. It if
■OMoely iiiuimij 'to point out that thii lentiment,
thouch in fenerel the puroet by which human beingt
CM be ectuetwl, if, like »11 tho other hlKher lentinienti
of our nature, when offended or ohocked, capable of
roueins the inferior lentimtnti into gre»t activity. In
the tixteenth and MTenteenth oenturiei, Europeiui 4o-
oietr waa oompuatlrely unenlightened and barbaroui;
we therefore find th&t rariancei of opinion relating
nligion were then productive of far fiercer teelingi
than they are in our own more humane age. The
ProteetMit heresy, aa it waa termed by the Catholics,
waa alao a novelty, the remote effects of which no man
could foretell; it waa mingled with political questions,
and by some princes waa aupposed to foreboile a general
revolt against monarchical authority. We are not
therefore to wonder that great cruelties were com>
mitted, either by the Catholics in seeking to support
the church of liome, or by the Protestants in endea-
Touring to insure themselves a^nst a renewal of
severities inflicted by the opposite party. Nor is it
neaaaaury, in the preaent age, that the adherenta of
either faith ahould retain any feeling of displeasure
against the other, on account of barbarities which took
their rise in the ignorance and rudeness of a former
period, and of which the enlightened of both parties
have long since disapproved.

la the Netherlands, which formed part of the domi-
Biona of PhUip II. of Spain, the reformed faith had
mad* ooDsiderable advances. Philip, like other Catho-
lio princes, entertained tho idea that this new creed,
bttidcs being condemnable aa a heresy and an offence
Moinat theDeity, tended to make men independent of
^ir rulers. Finding the people obstinate in their
profeaaiona, he commenced a war with the Nether-
uuidtrs, for the purpose of enforcing his authority over
their conaciencea. This war lasted about twenty years;
for the Netherlanders, though a nation of no great
strength, fought like desperate men, and endured the
moat dreadful hardships rather than submit. The
chief leader in this war of liberty was William, Prince
of Orange, one of the purest and most courageous pa-
triots that ever breathed. Elizabeth could not help
wishing well to the Netherlanders, though for a long
time her dread of Spain, then one of the greatest
powers in Europe, prevented her from openly assisting
them. At the same time, about two millions of the
people of France were Protestants, or, as they were
then called, Huguenots, who acted also for the general
Protestant cause with as much energy as the great
strength of the French government would permit.
Eliabeth at length, in 1578, extended an open pro-
tection to the Netherlanders, excusing herself to Philip
by stating her fear that they would otherwise throw
themselvea into the arms of France. The northern
provinces were thus enabled to assert their indepen-
dence, and to constitute the country which has since
been called Holland.

DEATH OF MAHT, QUEEN OF SCOTS.

The Catholic powers of the continent formed many
achemea for annoying or dethroning Elizabeth ; and
the impriaoued Scottish queen, or her adherents, wer>
generallv ocnoemed in them. The king of Spain, dc
termined at length to make a decisive effort, commenceU
the preparation of a vast fleet, which he termed the
InTincible Armada, and with which he designed to in-
vade the English ahores. Elisabeth, her ministers, and
people, behwd the preparationa with much concern,
ana their fean were increaaed by the plots which were
inceawntly forming amongst her Catholic subjecta in
138

behalf of the Queen of Beots. An Mt WH pMM4 dt«
daring that any person, by or /or whom any plot should
be made against the (junen of England, should be guilty
of treason. When, soon after, a gentleman named
Itabington formed a connpirocy for aasassinating Eliia-
both and placing Mary on the throne, the latter queen
became of course liable to the punishment for treason,
although herself innocent. She wm subjected to a for-
mal trial in her prison of Fotherlngay Castle, and found
guiltv. Elisabeth hesitated for some time to strike an
unoffetuling and unfortunate person, related to her by
blood, and ner equal in rank. But at length fears for
herself got the better of her sense of iustioe, and. it
may be added, of her good sense, and she cave her
sanction to an act whicn leaves an ineffaceable stain

Xn her memory. On the 7th of February 1A87.
ry, Queen of Soots, was beheaded in the hall of
the castle, after an embittered confinement of more
than eighteen years.

JaiMes VI. was now, after a turbulent minority, in
posaeaaion of the reins of government in Scotland, but
with little real power, being a dependant and pensioner
of Elisabeth, and at the same time much controlled br
the clorey, who asserted a total independence of all
temporal authority, and considered themselves as the
subjects alone of the Divine founder of the Christian
faith. James made many attempts to assert a control
over the church like that enjoyed by the English mo-
narch, and also to introduce an Episcopal hierarchy,
but never could attain more than a mere shadow of hia
object. The chief influence he possessed arose in fact
iVoni his being regarded aa heir preaumptiv* to the
English crown.

SPANtail ARMADA — RXBELUONl IN IRUAHD.

In 1588, the Spanish Armada, consisting of 130 great
vessels, with 20,000 land forces on board, set sail against
England, while 34,000 more land forces prepared to
join iVom the Netherlands. Amidst the consternation
which prevailed in England, active measures were taken
to defend the country; thirtr vessels prepared to meet
the Amioda, and another fleet endeavoured to block
up tho Netherlands forces iu port. The command was
taken by Lord Howard of Effingham. Troops were alao
muatered on land to repel the invaders. The English
fleet attacked the Armada in the Channel, and waa
found to have a considerable advantage in the lightneu
and mana^eableness of the vessels. As the Armada
sailed along, it was infested by the English in the rear,
and by a series oi' lesultory attacks, so damaged as to
be obliged to take refuge ou the Ck>a8t of Zealand. The
Duke of Panna now declined to euibark tho Netherlands
forces, and it was resolved by the admiral, that they
should return to Spain by sailing ?ound the Orkneys,
as the winds w<ere contrary to tnwir passage directly
ba< ' Accordingly they proceeuied northward, and
weru i'ollowed by the English Deet aa far as Flam-
borough H«ad, where they were terribly shattered by a
storm. iM>v«fiteien «f the ships, having 5000 men on
hoA'tt, were mat awiiy on the VVestom Isles and the
coaat of Ireland. Of the whole Armada, fifty-three
ships only returned to Spain, and these in a wretched
condition. The seamen, as well as the soldiers who
remained, werv so overcome with hardships and fatiffue,
and so dispirited by their discomfiture, that they filled
nil Spain with accounik it' the desperate valour of the
English, and of the terupestuoua violence of that ocean
by which they were laTrounded.

Though the Protestant church had meanwhile been
establi^ed in Ireland, the great bulk of the people con-
tinued to be Roman Catholics. The native rudeness of
the people and their chiefs, and the discontent occasioned
by what was considered as a foreign church establish-
n>ent, rendered the country turbulent and difficult to
govern. Sir John Perrot, the deputy, proposed to im-
prove the country- by public works and English laws;
but it was thought injurious to England to improve the
condition of IreUnd, A series of rebellions under chiefs
named O'Neill was the consequence, and the English

BIITOBT 07 OBXAT BBITAIK AKD IBELAND.

gotmimnk wm mklnUlnad with mat difflouUy, and
tA Ml uionnotta aiptiiM. Th* r«b«llTon of Huyh O'Neill,
E«rl of Trrona, wm p«rtioul»rljr foriuidablt. The
Engliah omcan wen »! flnk uiiiuccMtful, and met
wiu Mm* Nfioui difeatt. In 1599, Tyrone gained lo
mat a riotor^r, that the whole prorlnce of Muuster
deolared for hini. He then Invited tbo Spaniarde to
maka a descent on Ireland, and join him. The queen
■mt over her favourite, the Earl of Keaex, with '20,000
men; but he did not proceed with vigour, and loon
after found it neoeieary to rotum to (higland to juitify
himaelf. Next year Tyrone broke the truce lie had
formed with Kwox, overran the whole country, and
acted a« lovorelgn of Ireland. If Hpain had at thii time
pivon hhu the lupport be aiked, Ireland might buvo
been diiievered from the Engliih crown.

Elisabeth now selected ae her deputy for Ireland,
Blount, liord Moun^oy, who was in every reipect
better fitted than Eiiex to conduct luoh a warfare. Ai
a preliminary etep. thii lugacioui officer Introduced
Jeaiouiy and diiunion among the Irish chiefs. The
very celerity of his movements tended 1 1 dispirit the
insurgents. In 1601, six thousand Upkiiards landed
in Kinsale harbour, for the purpose of supporting thn
Irish. Mountjoy immediately invested the place, and
prevented them ttom acting. Tyrone marched from
the south of Ireland to their relief, and was met and
overthrown by a much inferior English force, after
which Kinsale was surrendered. About the time when
Elizabeth died (1603), Tyrone submitted, and Ireland
was once more reduced under the authority of the Eng-
lish crown.

CONCLUSION or TUB KKION OV ELIZABBTU.

It is remarkable, that while Elisabeth increased in
power and resources, she became more noted for femi-
niiie weaknesses. In her early years she had shown a
stoicism, and su^riority to natural affections, not
usually observed in womon. But in her old age, she
became both volatile and susceptible to an extraordi-
nary degree; so that the hand which she had withheld
in her vounger days from the noblest princes of Europe,
■eemad likely to tie bestowed in her old age upon some
mere court minion. Her favourite in niiddlf Ytd' was
Robert, Earl of Leicester, a prolligat)' • , l a triiler. In
her latter days she listenod to tht ludresses of the
Earl of Essex, a young man ' '' greater courage and
betUr principle, but also headn.<du^ I weak. Essex,
who had acquired popularity V)<' 4»v>.-ail brilliant mili-
tary enterprises, began at leu^fth tu adsume an insolent
superiority over the queeok whi; vas on one occasion
so much provoked by li>» rudeuess as to give him a
hearty box on the ear, Nu«with8tanding all his caprices,
presumption, and insults, the queen still dotingly for-
^ve him, until he at lencth attempted to raise an
insurrection against her in tne streets of London, when
he was seised, cuudeinned, and alter much hesitation,
executed (February ?5, 1601).

Elisabeth, in at last ordering the execution of Essex,
had acted upon her usual principle of sacrificing her
feelings to what was necessary for the {tublic cause; but
in this effort, made in the sixty-eighth year of her age,
she had miscalculated the real strength of her nature.
She was observed from that time to decline gradually
in health and spirits.

About the close of 1601, she fell into a deep hypo-
chondria or melancholy. She could scarcely be induced
to have herself dressed, and at length became so much
absorbed by her sorrow as to refuse sustenance, and
sat for days and nights on the floor, supported by a few
cushions, brought to her by her attendants. On the
24th of March 1603, she expired, after a reign of nearly
forty-iiTe years, during which England advanced — po-
litical! j and commeiaallr — from the condition of a
second-rate to that at a orst-rate power, and the Pro-
testant religion was olablished on a basis from which
it could never afterwards be shaken.

The r«ign of Elisabeth, saw the commencement of
tke uaral glory of England. Down to the reign of

Henry VII., there was no such thing M » MfT balon|-
lug to the publin, and the military geniul of tho poojplu
was devoted exclusively to enternrises b^ hwd. The

rise, however, of a commercial spirit In Europe, which
in H'J'i had caused the discovery of America, and was
again acted upon by the scope for adventure which that
discovery opened up, hod latterly caused great atten-
tion to l>e paid to nautical affairs in England. Engllah-
inoii of all ranks sup|)ortod and entered into enteipriaes
for diicoveriHK unknown territories ; and under lirake,
Cavoiidiih, lUdeigh, and Frubiiher, various expeditions
of less or more magnitude wore sent out. The colonies
of North America wore now commenced. Amongst
the exertions of private merchants, our attention it
chiefly attracted by the commencement of the northern
whale-fishery, the cod- fishery of Newfoundland, and the
leso laudable slave-trade in Africa. When hostilitiei
with Spain became mora open, the English commanders
mode many successful attacks u])on her colonies in ths
West Indies, and also upon the fleets of merchant ves-
sels which were enii-loyml to carry home the gold, and
other alinoat equallv valuable products of the New
World, to the 8pai...h harbours. These attacks were
now made in a more syitomatic manner, and with more
efiect, as a revenge for the affair of the Armada. It
may be said that the dominion of Britain over the seas
was perfected almost in a single reign ; a power which
has been of such advantage to the country, both in pro-
tecting its comincrco, and keeping it secure from foreign
invasion, that its origin would have conferred everlast-
ing lustre on this period of British history, even al-
though it had not been characterised by any other
glorious event.

The chief articles exported from England to the con-
tinent were wool, cloth, lead, and tin : formerly these
had been sent in vessels belonging to the Uanse Towns
— certain ports of the north of Europe, possessing great
privileges — but now English vessels were substituted
for this trade. Birmingham and Sheffield were already
thriving seats of the hardware manufacture, and Man-
chester was becoming distinguished for making cottons,
rugs, and friezes. Stocking-weaving and the making
of sailcloth, serge, and baize, took tlicir rise in this
reign. The progress of other arts was much favoured
by the bloody persecutions in the Netherlands, which
drove into England great numbers of weavers, dyers,
cloth-dressers, and silk-throwers. Amongst the wealthier
classes, the wearing of handsome apparel and of gold
orname:its and jewellery, made a great advance.
Coaches were introduced, but for a time thought only
fit for the use of ladies. Great improvements were
made in the building of houses. Theatrical umuse-
menta were begun, and attained great vogue, tbough
only in London. The smoking of tobacco was intro-
duced by Sir Walter Raleigh, who became acquainted
with the platit in Virginia. At the end of Elizabeth's
reign, the population of Loudon was about 160,000, or
a tenth of what it now is; and the whole kingdom pro*
bably contained about 5,000,000 of inhabitants.

THE STUARTS— JAMES I.

The successor of Elizabeth, by birthright, was .Tames
VI. OF Scotland (styled James 1. of England), who wa»
now arrived at the prime of life, and had been married
for some years to the Princess Anne of Denmark, by
whom he had two sons, Henry and Charles, and one
daughter named Elizabeth. James immediately re-
moved to London, and assumed the government of
England, while his native kingdom, though thus united
under the same sovereignty, still retained its own pecu-
liar institutions. At the suggestion of the king, who
wished to obliterate the distinction of the two countries,
the common name of Great Britain was now conferred
upon them. King James was an oddity in human cha-
racter. His person was naturally feeble, particularly
in the limbs, which were scarcely sufficient to support
his weight. He had great capacity for learning, some
acuteness, and a considerable share of wit ; but was
pedantic, vain, and weak. He believed kings to be tho

13ft

OStAMBEBS^ IKTd^lUT^ON FOB THS PEOPLE.

deputies of Ooi, tai «ocou«t*We to God alone for their
Mtioni. He w«i equally di»poMd with Elisabeth to

fovem demoticallT, or according to hie own wiU ; but
e wanted the vigour and the tact for eecuring popula-
xity which enabled hie predecewor to become lo much
ihemietrewofhereubjeoti. ^ ,. ^.

Notwithftanding the energy of Elizabeth, the popu-
lar ipirit had gradually been acquiring force in her
' xeign. It was diefly (een in the acts of the Puritans,
a raligious party, who wished to make great reforms in
the church, both in its goremment and its worship,
and who, fJKim the fervour of their devotions and the
strictness of their manners, might be likened to the
Piesbyterians of Scotland. King James found con-
siderable difficulty at the very first in controlling this
party and evading their demands. He was no less
troubled, on the other hand, by the Catholics, who,
recollecting his mother Mary, conceived that he would
be inclined to make matters more easy to them in
England. Upon the whole, there were such difficulties
m the wav, as, to hare steered successfully through
them, would have required a wiser instead of a weaker
ruler than Elizabeth.

GUNPOWDER PLOT.

The disappointment of the Catholics on finding that
the severe laws against them were not to be relaxed,
Jed to a conspiracy on the part of a few eentlemen of
that persuasion, of whom the chief was William Catesby,
a person of dissolute habits. It was arranged that, on
the day of the meeting of Parliament, November 5,
1605, the House of Lords should be blown up by gun-
powder, at the moment when the King, Lords, and
Commons, were all assembled in it, thus destroying, as
they thought, all their chief enemies at one blow, and
maaing way for a new government which should be
mere favourable to them. Accordingly, thirty-four
barrels of powder were deposited in the cellars beneath
the House, and a person named Quy Fawkes was pre-
pared to kindle it at the proper time. The plot was
discovered, in consequence of the receipt of a letter by
Lord Monteagle, warning him not to attend the meeting
of Parliament. An bvestigation took plane during the
night between the 4th and 5th of November, when the
gunpowder was discovered, and Fawkes taken into
custody. He confessed his intentions ; and the rest of
the conspirators fled to the country, where most of
them were cut to pieces in endeavouring to defend
themselves. Notwithstanding the atrocious character
of this plot, the king could never be induced to take
advantage of it, as most of his subjects desired, for the
purpose of increasing the persecution of the Catholic
party : he probably feared that new severities might
only give rise to other attempts against his life.

PLANTATIONS IN IRELAND.

The state in which the king found Ireland at his
accession, aiforded an opportunity for commencing a
more generous policy in reference to thr.t country, and
introducing regulations favourable to internal improve-
ment. Previously to this reign, the legislative authority
of the English government was confined to the small
' district called the ' Pale,' while the rest was governed
by native sovereigns or chiefs, whose connection with
the king of England was merely that of feudal homage,
which did not prevent them from making wars or aUi-
%nces with each c ^her. Subject to depredations from
these powerful L<i:.'ons, the native Irish, from a very
early period, p.Hitloned for the benefit of the Engluh
laws; but the Irish, Parliament, which was composed of
the English baront, was never at a loss for the means of
preventing this desirable measure from being effected.
James was in reality the first king who ext«nded the
Enslish law over the whole of Ireland, by making judi-
eial appointments suited to the extent of the country.
This ne was enabled to do, by the recent wart having
put the country more completely in his power than it
bad been in that of anr iormer monarch. He becan
by extending favour to the Irish chiefs, not excepting

Tyrone. He passed i^i act of oblivion and indemnity
by which all persons who had comioltted offences, com*
ing to the judges of assise within a certain day, might
clum a full pudon. At the same time, toleration was
virtually refused to the Catholic persuasion, and much
discontent therefore still existed. Some of the chief*
tains, having conspired against the crown, were at-
tainted, and their lands were given to English settlers,
with a view to improving the population of the oountnr
by an infusion oi oiviliMd persons. But this experi-
ment, though well-meant, was managed in a partial
spirit, and gave rise t<Fmueh injustice. In 1613, the
first Irish Parliament was held in wUch there were
any representatives of places beyond the Pale.

THE KING^ CHILDRTO^-raE SPANISH MATCH.

In 1G12, the king had the misfortune to lose his eldest
son, Henry, a youth of nineteen, who was considered
as one of the most promising and accomplished men of
the age. The second son, Charles, then became the
heir-apparent, and James was busied for several years
in seeking him out a suitable consort. The PriAcess
Mary of Spain was selected, a match which could not
be popular, considering that the young lady was a
Catholic, and of a family who had long been the ene-
mies of England. The prince, attended by the Duke of
Buckingham, made a romantic journey in di«guise to
Madrid to push the match; but a quarrel between the
British and Spanish ministers led to its being broken
oflT, and to a bloody war between the two nations;

Elizabeth, the only remaining child of the king, was
manied, in 1613, to Frederick, Prince Pali^tine of the
Rhine, who was afterwards so unfortunate as to lose
his dominions, in consequence of his placing himself at
the'head of the Bohemians, in what was considered as
a rebellion aeainst his superior, the Emperor of Ger-
many. This discrowned pair, by their youngest daughter
Sophia, who married the Duke of Brunsirick, were the
ancestors of the family which now reigns in Britain.

FEATURES OF JAMES I.'S OOVERNMENT.

The reign of James I. was not marked by what are
called ereat events. This was greatly owing to his
timid character, which iuduced him to maintain peace,
at whatever sacrifice, throughout the greater part of his
reign. The prime leaders of his government were
youthful favourites, who possessed no merit but per-
sonal elegance. Experienced statesmen, brave soldiers,
and leained divines, had to bow to these ' dissolute
youths, if they wished to remain, and still more if they
hoped to advance, in the royal favour. Even Bacon,
the noblest intellect of the ace, and who, by the result
of his studies, has done more than almost any other man
to promote the progress of knowledge, is found to have
attached himself to the minion Duke of Buckingham,
for the purpose of improving his interest at court.

In despotic countries, the vices of the court often
corrupt all classes; but it was otherwise at that period
in Britain. The country gentlemen, and the merchants
in the incorporated towns, had privileges which the
court dared not too often violate, and a feeling of recti-
tude and independence was encouraged amonx these
classes, which the statesmen of the age too much over-
looked. The House of Commons gave frequent resist-
ance to the court, and often compelled James to yield,
at the very moment when he was preaching his doc-
trines of divine right. In his first Parliament, they took
into consideration several grievances, such as pwrvey-
anee, a supposed right in the officers of the court to
seize what provisions they pleased, at any price, or at
no price; another was the nght of granting numopoliu,
which had become a source of revenue to tba court by
cheating the country, certain persons having the mono-
poly of certain manufactures and articles of domestic
consumption, which they were allowed to furnish at
their own prices. The Commons likewise remonstrated
Nninst pluralites in the church, and against a new set
of canons which the king and the churcu tried to force
on the nation without their consent. In 1614, the/

HttTORT OF OfiEAT BMTATN AUU lllfiLAND.

thTOftiened to poitpone any luptly till their gTievancea
w«re redi«ued. Ihe king, in iiia turn, threatened to
diMoIre them if tliey did not immediately grant a aup-
ply; and they allowed him to take his course, vhich
did not fill his coffers. These, and many other instances
of bold resistance, ehould have giren warning to the
court. They were the s'aadows of coming events, and
attention to them might L.<<.ve saved the uoodshed and
confusion of the, succeeding reign.

English literature, which first made a decisive <vd-
vance in the reign of Eliiabet^b continued to be culti-
vated with great success in the reign of King James.
The excellence of the language at this time as a
medium for literature, is strikingly shown in the tran-
slation of the Bible now executed. It is also shown in
the admirable dramatic writings of Shakspeare, and in
the valuable philosophic works of Bacon. The induc-
tive philosophy, made known by the last writer—
namely, that mode of reasoning which consists in first
ascertaining facts, and then inferring conclusions from
them-^reflects peculiar lustre on this period of our
history. Very great praise is also due to Napier of
Morcliiston, in Scotland, for the invention of logarithmi,
a mode of calculating intricate numbers, essential to
the progress of mathematical science.

CHABLES I. — BIS CONTENT:OKS WITH THE HOUSE OF
COMMONS.

King James died in March 1625, in the fifty-ninth
year of his age, and was succeeded by his sun Cuables,
now twenty-five years of age. One of the first acts of
the young king was to marry the Princess Henrietta
Mana, daughter of Henry IV. of France, and a Catholic.
This was an unfortunate step for the House of Stuart,
for the two eldest sons of the king and (^ueen, though
educated as Protestants, were influenced m some mea-
sure by the religious creed of their mother, so that they
ultimately became Catholics; and this, in the case of
the second son, James II., led to the family being ex-
pelled from the British throne.

After breaking off the proposed match with the Prin-
cess Mary of Spain, Britain eagerly threw itself into a
war with that country, which was still continued. To
supply the expenses of that contest, and of a still more
unnecessary one into which he was driven with France,
the king applied to Parliament, but was met there with
■o many complaints as to his government, and such a
keen spirit of popular liberty, tnat he deemed it neccs-
laiT to revive a practice followed by other sovereigns,
and particularly Elizabeth, of compelling his subjects
to grant him gifts, or, as they were called, benevolences,
and also to furnish ships at their own charge, for car-
rying on the war. Such expedients, barely toleratf"!
under the happy reign of Elizabeth, could not be en-
dured in thia age, when the people and the Parliament
were so much more olive to their rights. A general
discontent spread over the nation. The Commons, see-
ing that if the king could support the state by self-raised
taxes, he would soon become independent of all control
from his Parliaments, resolved to take every measure
in their power to check his proceedings. They also as-
sailed him respecting a right which he assumed to im-
prison his subjects upon his own warrant, and to detain
them as long as he pleased. Having made an inquiry
into the ancient powers of the crown, before these
powers had been vitiated by the tyrannical Tudors, they
embodied the result iu what was called a Peiitiox of
Right, which they presented to him as an ordinary
bill, or rather as a second Magna Charta, for replac-
ing the privileges of the people, and particularly their
exemption from arbitrary taxes and imprisonment, upon
a fixed basis. With great difficulty Charles was pre-
Tailed upon to ffive his sanction to this bill (1628) ; but
his disputes with Parliament soon after ran to such a
height, that he dissolved it in a fit of indignation, re-
solving never more to call it together. About the same
time his favourite minister, the Duke of Buckingham,
was assossbated at Portsmuuth, and Charles resolved
thenceforward to be m a great measure hii own minis-

ter, and to tmit c^fly for the support ^ his Mreni-
ment to th« English hierarchy, to whose faith lie was
a devoted adherent, and who were, in tun:, the most
loyal of his suUects. His chief couiMellor was Laud*
Archbishop of Canterb:uy, a man of narrow aad bi-
goted SDtrit, and who made it his duty rather to in-
crease tnan to diminish the ceremonies of the Kwlish
church, althoush the tendency of the age was dediMdly
favourable to their diminution. For some years Charlee
governed the cOuntrr entirely as an irresponsible detpot,
levying taxes by his own orders, and imprisoning such
persons as were innoxious to him, in utter defiance of
the Petition of Right. The Puritans, or church re-
formers, suffered most severely under this system of
things. They were dragged in great numbers before
an arbitrary court called the Star-ChamLcr, wLich pro-
fessed to tuie cognisance of offences against the king'*
prerogative, and against religion ; and sometimes men
venerable for piety, learning, and worth, were scourged
through the streets of London, and had their ears cut
off, and their noses slit, for merely differing in opinion,
on the most speculative of all subjects, with the king
and his cler^. The great body of the people beheld
these proceedings with horror, and only a fitting occa-
sion was wanted for giving expression and effect to the
public feeling. ,

It is to be observed, that none of the taxes imposed by
Charles were in themselves burdensome ; the country
was then in a most prosperous condition, and the taxes
far less in proportion to eveiy man's means than they
have ever since been. It was only to the prindple of
their being raised without Parliamentary sanction,
which had fonnerly been so necessary a control on th«
royal power, that the people were disposed to resist
them. It may easily be supposed, that though there
might be a general disposition to resistance, the most
of mdividuus would not like to be the first to come for-
ward for that purpose, as, in such an event, they would
have been sure to experience the severest persecution
from the court. At length, John Hampden, a gentle-
man of Buckinghamshire, resolved to undergo any per-
sonal inconvenience rather than pay his twenty shulings
of ship-money. The cose was tried in the Exchequer
(1637) ; and as the judges were then dismissible at^
the royal pleasure, and of course the humble servants
of the king in everything, Hampden lost his cause. He
roused, however, more effectually than ever, the atten-
tion of the people to this question, and means were not
long wanting to check the king in his unfortunate carees.

troubles in SCOTLAND — THE NATIONAL COVENANT.

An attempt had been made by King James to intro-
duce the Episcopal church into Scotland, because it
was thought dangerous to the English rhurch that &
form of worship resembling that of the Puritans
should be permitted to exist in any part of the kins's
dominions. The same object was prosecuted with
great<>r zeal by King Charles; and although the people
were generally adverse to it, he had succeeded, aner
a \'m[ which he paid to the country in 1633, in settling
thirteen bishops over the church, by wiiou". he hoped
to govern the clergy as he did those of England, But
when he attempted, in 1637, to introduce a new Book
of Common Prayer into the Scotch churches, the spirit
of the people could no longer^be kept within bounds.
On the Liturgy being opened in the principal church
at Edinburgh, the congregation rose in a violent tu-
mult, and threw their clasped Bibles, ond the very
stools they sat on, at the minister's head; and it was
not till the whole were expelled by force, that tho wor-
ship was permitted to proceed. It was found neceusaiy,
by the Scottish state-officers, to withdraw the obnoxious
Liturgy, till the^ should consult the king, who, not
dreading anv mischief, gave orders that it should be
used as he had formerly directed, and tha<i the civil
force should be employed in protecting the cleigymen.
It was found quite impossible to obey such an order in
the face of a united people, who, by committees as-
sembled at Edinburgh, ropreienting the nobles, minis-

OHAMBEBEPS INTOBlCATIOir TOB THE FEOFLB.

ten, gwitry, and burghew, endwonwd io awe the
king Into Vii abandonment of- the late mnoTationi.
Chules endeavoured bjrereiy mean, in hia power to
avoid luoh a humUiatlon. which he believed would
give immen* force to the innovator, in England. Hut
&e Scotch, when they found him heiitatrng. bound
themielvee (March 1638), under a bond called the
yatUmal OoMttant, which waa signed by nineteen-
twentieth! of the adult population, to resist their sove-
xeign in eveiy attempt he might make to bring in upon
them the errors of Popery— for such they held to be
the fbrms of worship and ecclesiastical government
which Charles had lately imposed upon their church.
The king sent his favourite Scotch counsellor, the
Marauis of Hamilton, to treat with his northern sub-
jects ; bat nothing would satisfy them but the colling
of a General Assembly of the church, for the purpose
of settling all disputes. Charles, though he saw that
this was only an appeal to the heads of the party by
which he had been opposed, consented to the proposiu,
for the purpose of gaining time, that he might make
warlike preparations against his refractory people.

The Assembly met at Glasgow in November, and, as
might have been expected, formally purified the church
tnm all the late innovations, excommunicating the
bishops, and declaring the government of the chrgf <3
rest, as formerly, in the General Assembly, which con-
sisted of a selection of two clergymen from each pres-
bytery, with a mixture of lay elders, and nothing to
control its proceedings but their interpretation of the
will of the divine Sunder of the Christian religion.
Early in the succeeding year, the king, with great
difficttltv, collected an army of 20,000 men, whom he
led to the border of Scotland, for the purpose of re-
ducing these despisers of his authority. The Scotch,
however, strengthened bv devotional feeling, and a
certainty that the English in general were favourable
to their cause, formed an army equal in number, which
was placed under the command of General Alexander
Leslie, an officer who had served with distinction iu
the long Protestant war carried on against the Empe-
ror of Germany. The Scottish army was encamped on
Dunse Law, a hill overlooking the Border, where the
duties of military parade were mingled with prayers
and preachings, such as were never before witnessed in
a camp. The king seeing the wavering of his own men,
and the steadfastness of the Scotch, was obliged to
open a negotiation, in which it was agreed to disband
both armies, and to refer the disputes once more to a
General Assembly and a Scottish Parliament.

The king now adapted a new policy with the tur-
bulent people of Scotland. Having fonnerlr gained
over some of the English patriots, he thought he might
be equally successful with the lords of the Covenant,
whom he therefore invited to attend him at Berwick,
where the late negotiations had been conducted. A
few obeyed the summons; but he failed with all except
the Earl (aflerwards Marquis) of Slontrose, a noble of
vigorous genius, whose ambi'iiion had been wounded
by not Iiaving so high a place in the counsels of his
countrymen as he thought he deserved. In the new
General Assembly and Parliament (1640), the votes
were equally decisive against Episcopacy ; and though
Charles prorogued the latter body before it had com-
pleted its proceedings, it liovertheless continued sitting,
and voted every measure which it thought necessary.
The king collected a second army, and in order to
raise money for a second expedition against the Scots,
was reduced to the necessity of calling an English Par-
liament, the first that had met for eleven years. It
met (April 13), but, without listening for a moment to
a request for subsidies, began to discuss the national

frievances. Finding Parliament quite intractable, the
ing dissolved it (May 5), and endeavoured to obtain
supplies in other quarters. A convocation of the clergy
jRanted him ^£20,000 per annum for the next six years.
The nobility and gentry advanced £300,000; but when
tha citT of London waa asked for a loan of £300,000,
it absolutely refused.
142

The Soots did not, ou this occasion, wait to be at*
tacked by the king, but in August 1640, manned into
the north of Ensluid, L the expcvtation of being sup-
ported in their claims by the English people in general.
A victory gained by them at Newbumford, and their
taking possession of Newcastle, together with the mani-
fest disaffection of his own troops, made it necessa^
that Charles should once more resort to negotiation. It
was agreed at a council of peers that all the preMnt dis-
sensions should be referred to the Parliaments of the
two countries, the Scoltish anfnv bemg 'm the mean-
time kept up on English pay, till sucu time as they
were satisfied with the state of their affairs.

THE LONG PARLIAMENT — THE IRISH RBBELUOIf.

The English Parliament met in November, and im-
mediately commenced a series of measures for efieotu-
ally and permanently abridging the roy»l authority.
There was even a party who, provoked by the late
arbitrary measures, contemplated the total abolition of
the monarchy, and the establishment of a republic. The
first acts of the Parliament had little or no immediate
reference to Scotland. The Earl of Strafford was im-
peached of treason againsb the liberties of the people,
and executed (May 12, 1641 ), notwithstanding a solemn
promise made to him by the king that he should never
suffer in person or estate. Archbishop Laud was im-
peached and imprisoned, but reserved for future ven-
geance. The remaining ministers of the king only saved
themselves by flight. Some of the judges wei-e impri-
soned and fined. The abolition of Episoopacy was
taken into consideration. The Catholics fell under a
severe persecution ; and even the person of the queen,
who belonged tu this faith, was not considered safe.

It was not till August 1641, when the English Par-
liament had gained many of its objects, that they per-
mitted the treaty of peace with Scotland to be fuUr
ratified. They then gratified the troops not only with
their full pay, at the rate of £850 a day, but with a
vote of no less a sum than £300,000 besides, of which
£80,000 was paid down, as an indirect way of Aimish-
ing their party with the means of future resistance.
The king, on his part, also took measures for gtuning
the attachment of this formidable body of soldiery, and
of the Scottish nation in general. In Edinburgh, which
he visited in August, he squared his conduct carefully
with the rigour of Presbyterian manners. In the Par-
liament he was exceedingly complaisant: he readily
ratified all the acts of the preceding irregular sowion;
he yielded up the right of appointing the state officers
of Scotland ; and he ordained that the "fiottish Parlia-
ment should meet once every three years without re-
gard to his will — all of which were points of the greatest
importance. The men who had acted most conspicu-
ously against him in the late insurrections now became
his chief counsellors, and he seemed to bestow favours
upon them exactly in proportion to their enmity. He
created General Leslie Earl of Leven, putting on his
coronet with his own hand. The Sari of Argyle, who
had been the chief political leader of the Covenanters,
was made a marquis. Many others received promo-
tions in the peerage. The offices of state were distri-
buted amongst them. Thus the affections of the Scots
were in a manner set up to auction between the king
and his English Parliament, and from both did they
receive considerable advantages.

But while thus intriguing with the Covenanting
leaders, Charles also kept up a correspondence with a
royalist party which had been embodied by the Earl of
A^ntrose. This nobleman was now suffering confine-
ment in Edinburgh Castle for his exertions m favour
of the king. An obscure conspiracy which he formed
against three of the chief popular nobles, Argyle, Ha-
milton, and Lanark, as a preliminary step to the re-
establishment of the royal power, biecame known at
this time, and did some injury to the king's cause in
both countries. Ailer spending about three months in
Edinburgh, Charles wa« called away in consequence of
intelligence which reached him from Ireland.

HISTOBT OF QBEAT BRITAIN AND IBELAND.

The cruel policy already mentioned, by which luge
portion* of Ireland were depopulated, and then planted
with ooloniee of English and Scotch Mttlen had been
continued during the reign of Charlet. In addition to
thii and other local cauaee of complaint, the state of
religion was one which pervaded nearly the whole coun-
try, and was always becoming more and more impor-
tant. Though the reformed faith had been established
for '"'"\rly a century, it had made little progress except
B,mon<< the English settlers. The greater part of the
nobilicy, and also of the lower oraers, were still at-
tached to the ancient creed; and a Catholic hierarchy,
appointed by the Pope, and supported by the people,
enjoyed as much respect and obedience as when that
religion was countenanced by the state. The refusal
of the Catholici to take the oath of supremacy, which
acknowledged ihe king to possess a right which their
faith taught them to belong to the Pope, necessarily
excluded them from all branches of the public serrice.
There were also penal laws agc^inst the profession of
Catholicism, and a scTCre court of Star-Chamber to
cany these into execution. Thus situated, the Irish
Catholics had two powerful motives to mutiny — a con-
fidence in their numbers, and a constant sense of suffer-
ing under the government.

In 1633, the Earl of Strafford was appointed viceroy
of Ireland. His government was vigorous, and those
institutions which he thought proper to patronise flou-
rished under it; but his great aim waa to make the
king absolute, and he rather subdued than conciliated
the popu'ar spirit. When summoned in 1640 to attend
the King in England, he left the Irish government in
the hands of St.- William Parsons and Sir John Borlase,
as lordc yd^,. " Immediately after his depart'ire,
the spirit >|)^' < ^'- thought he had quelled began to
reappear, }-:l^-:: ^.i. vjraged both by his absence, and
by tne s'l.- Lioh the Scottish Covenanters had

experiencod in a war against religious restraint. A
conspiracy, involving most of the country without the
Pale, and including many persons within it, was formed
chiefly under the direction of a gentleman named
Roger Moore, who possessed many qualities calculated
to endear him to the people. Some circumstances ex-
cited the suspicion of the Protestants; and among
others, the return of several officers who had been in
the service of the king of Spain, under pretence of
recruitine for the Spanish army. But the apparent
tranquillity of the country baffled all scrutiny.

The 23d of October 1641, being a market-day, was
*x«d on for the capture of Dublin Castle. During the
previous day, nothing had occurred to alarm the autho-
rities. In the evenmg of the 22d, the conspiracy was
accidentally discovered, and measures were taken to
eave Dublin; but a civil war raged next morning in
Ulster, and speedily spread over the country.

The design of Sir Phelim O'Neill, and the other
leaders of this insurrection, was simply political.
They conceived the time a good and opportune one
for striking a blow against the government, as the
Scots had successfully done; and their conduct was in
the outset characterised by lenity. Thev could not,
however, allav the hatred with which the Catholics
looked upon tneir adversaries; and a sp'.iit of revenge
broke out among their followers, which was aggravated
to cruel outrage, when they heard that the conspiracy
was discovered in Dublin, The spirit of retaliation was
let loose, and political wrongs, unfeelingly inflicted,
were, as is often the case, ferociously avenged. The
massacre of an immense number of Protestants held
forth an awful lesson of the effects which oppressive
laffs produce on the human passions. The government
rather aggravated than alleviated the evil, by offering
the estates of all in rebellion to those who should aid in
reducing them to obedience. This drove the insurgents
to desperation, and postponed the complete extinction
of the war for several years. It is to be remarked,
that though the Irish were struegling for both national
and religious freedom, they gained no sjrmpathy from
the patriots of Britain, who, on the contrary, ui||ed the

king to suppiMi the rebellion, bemg afnid that a reli-
(^ous toleration in Ireland would be inconsistent with
the same privilege in their own country. The Scottish
Covenanters, themselves so recently emancipated from
a restraint upon their consciences, contributed ten
thousand troops to assist in restoring a similar restraint
upon the Irish I

THK CIVIL WAR.

It was generally allowed by moderate people, that in
the autumn of 1641, at which time the labours of the
Parliament had continued one year, the king had
granted redress of all the abuses for which the earlier
part of his reign, and the British constitution in general,
were blameable. If he could have given a guarantee
that he never would seek to restore any of these abuses,
or attempt to revenge himself upon the men who had
been chiefly concerned in causing him to give up, there
would have been no further contention. Unfortunately,
the character of the kine for fidelity to his engagements
was not sufficiently high to induce the leaders of the
House of Commons to depend upon him: they feared
that, if they once permitted him to resume his autho-
rity, there would be no longer any safety for them; and
they deemed it necessary that things should be pre-
vented from falling into their usual current, l&y
therefore prepared a paper called The Remmtlromce,
containing an elaborate view of all the grievances that
had ever existed, or could now be supposed to exiit;
and this they not only presented to the king, b. .t dis-
seminated widely among the people, with wh^.m it
served to increase the prevailing disaffection.

From this time it was seen that the sword could
alone decide the quarrel between the king and the
Parliament. Charles made an unsuccessful b'empt
(January 4, 1642) to seize six of the most refractory
members, for the purpose of striking terror into the
rest. This served to widen still further ths breach.
In the early part of 1642, the two parties sevirally em-
ployed themselves in preparing for war. )fet, even
now, the king granted some additional coricesbions to
his opponents. It was at last, upon a demand of the
Parliament for the command of the army — a privilege
always before, and since, resting with the cowi- that
he finally broke off all amicable intercourse. He now
retired with his family to York.

The Parliament found its chief support in the mer-
cantile classes of London and of the eastern coast of
England, which was then more devoteu to trade than
the west, and in the Puritan party generally, who were
allied intimately with the Presbyterians of Scotland, if
not rapidly becoming assimilated with them. Charles,
on the other baud, looked for aid to the nobility and
gentry, who were able to bring a considerable number
of dependants into the field. The Parliamentary party
was by the other styled Roundheadt, in c )nBequence of
their vearing short hair ; while the friends of the
Parliament ^stowed upon their opponents the epithet
of Malignanti. The Royalists were also, in the field,
termed Cavaliers, from so many of them being horse-
men. On the 25th of August 1642 the king erwted his
standard at Nottingham, and soon found himself at the
head of nn army of about ten ti'ousand men. The
Parliament had superior forces, and a better supply of
arms; but both parties were very ignorant of the aft of
war. The king commanded hU own a*my in person,
while the Parlianientar/ tOrces were put under the
chai^ge of the Earl of Essex.

The first battle took place, Octo >er 23, at Edgehill,
in Warwickshire, where the king had rather the ad-
vantage, though at the expense of a great number of
men. He gamed some further triumphs before the
end of the campaign, but still could not muster so large
an army as the Parliamem. During the winter, the
parties opened a negotiation at Oxford ; but thn de-
mands or the Parliament being silll deemed too great
by the king, it came to no successful issue.

Early in the ensuing season, the king gained some
coniid<)rablo advantages; he defeated a Parliamentary

CHAMBBBffS DWOKMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

Army under Sir Williwn W*Uer at Str»ttoD, And toon
•fter took the city of Brirtol. It only remf»inert for hun
to take Olouceater, in order to confine the liivirreckion
•ntirely to the eaatem provincefc It was even thougnt
at thif time that he might have easily obtained powea-
•iou of London, and thereby put an end to the war.
Instead of making such an atCempt, he caused sie^ to
be laid to Gloucester, which the army of Essex relieved
when it was just on the point of capitulating. As the
Parliamentaiy army was returning to London, it was
attacked by the royal forces at Newbury, and all but
defeated. Another section of the royal army in the
north, under the Marquis of Newcastle, ^ined some
advantages: and, upon the whole, it the dose of the
campaign of lfii3, the Parliamentar' .-use was by no
means va a flourishing condition.

In this war there was hardly an, ivspectable mili-
tary qualitT exhibited besides coun^c. The Royalists
used to ruqh upon the enemy opposed to them, without
any other design than to cut down as many as possible,
and when any part of the anu^- was successful, it never
returned to the field while a smgle enemy remained to
be pursued ; the consequence of which was, that one
wing was sometimes victorious, while the remainder
was completely b^ten. The Parliamentary troops,
though animated by an enthusiastic feeling of religion,
wei'e somewhat steadier, but nevertheless had no ex-
tensive or combined plan of military operations. The
first appeannce of a superior kind of discipline was
exhibited in a reciment of horse commanded by Oliver
Cromwell, a gentleman of small fortune, who had been
a brewer, but was destined, by gre it talent, hypocrisy,
and address, joined to an unrelenting disi)08ition, to
rise to supreme authority. Cromwell, though himself
ineT;>er<enced in military affairs, showed from the very
iirst a power of drilling and managing troops, which no
other man in either anny seemed to possess. Hence
Jiis ti^iment soon became famous for its exploits.

SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT.

The Royal successes of 1643 distressed alike the Eng-
lish Parliament and the Scottish nation, who now began
to fear the loss of all the political meliorations they had
wrested from the king. The two Parliaments therefore
entered, in July, into a Solemn League and Covenant,
for prosecuting the war in concert, with the /iew of
ultimately settling both church and state in a manner
consistent with the liberties of the people. In terms
of this bond, the Scots raised an army of twenty-one
thousai men, who entered England in January 1644;
and on thi 1st of .Tul>, in company with a large body
of English forces, ' rerthiew the king's northern army
on Long Marston Moor.

The conduct ut' the Scottish nation in this trans-
action was not unexceptionable. They had been grati-
fied in 1641 with a redress of every grievance they could
name; bince which time the king had not given them
the least cause of complaint. In no w ruising war aii-aiust
him, they had no excuse but the very equivccal one,
that it wag necessary to guard against the possibility
of his afterwards being able to injure them, I'hey were
also acting on English pay, a proceeding not very con-
siltent with their pretensions to independence. The
mainspring of their policy was a hope of being able to
establish the Presbyterian reliirion in England. The
Episcopal church being now abolidhed, divines were
nominated by both nations to meet at Westminster, in
order to settle a new form of worship and church go-
remment; and after a protracted course of delibera-
tion, it was agreed that the Presbyterian system should
be adopted, though in England it wcs provided that
the new chuich should not nave any connection with or
influence over the stete.

_ The defeat at Long Marston was severely felt by the
king. He gained a victory over Waller at Copredy
Brieve, and caused Essex's army to capitulate in Corn-
wall (September 1) ; but in consequence of a second

greatly diminished resources. A new negotiation was
commenced t^t Uxbridge; but the terms asked by the
Parliament wei'e so exorbitant, ai to show no sincere
desire of ending the war.

In truth, thout;h the Presbyterian party were per-
haps anxious for peace, ther« was another party, now
fast rising into importance, who were actuated by no
such wishes. These were the Independents, a body of
men who wished tu see a republic established in the
state, and all formalities whatever removed from the
national religion. Amon^ the leaders of the party was
Oliver Cromwell, whose mind seems to have already be-
come inspired with lofty vieWs of personal aggrandise-
ment. This extn>ordinary man had sufficient address to
carry a famous act called the Se(f-Denying Ordmanee,
which ostensibly airtied at depriving all members of the
legislature of commands in the army, but had the efl^
omv of displacing a few noblemen who were obnoxious
to his designs. He also carried an avt fpr modelling
the army anew, in which process he took care that all
who might be expected to oppose his views should be
excluded. It was this party more particularly that
prevented any accommodation taking place between
the king and his subjects.

alONTROSE'S CAREER IN SCOTLAND.

While the negotiation was ponding, the Marquis
(formerly Earl) of Montrose produced a diversion in
Scotland in favour of the king. Having got 150C foot
from Ireland, to which he added a few Perthshire
Highlanders, he descended upon the Lowlands, and on
the Ist of September (1644) gained & complete victory
over a larger and better - . imed force at Tippermuir.
At Aberdeen, whither he went for the pulMose of in-
creasing his army, he gained another victory over a
superior body of Covenanters. He was then pursued
by a third army, under the Marquis of Argyle, and
after some rapid movements, seemed to dissolve his
forces in the Highlands. Ere his enemies were aware,
he burst in the middle of winter Into the country of his
great rival Argyle, which ho did not leave till he had
made it a desert. Finding himself i.'midly followed by
the marquis, at the head of a large body of the clan
Campbell, he turned suddenly, and f&iling upon them
at Inverlochy (Februrry 2, 1645), gained a complete
victory. He then moved along the eastern frontier of
the Highlands, where he found himself opposed by a
fourth army under General Baillie. After sacking
the town of Dundee, and eluding Baillie's troops, ho
encountered at Aldeam, in Nairnshire (May 4), a
greatly superior force, which he also overthrew. Then
turning upon Baillie, whom ho met at Alford, in Aber-
deenshire (Jul/ 2), ^e gained a fifth victory, almost as
complete as any of the rest.

In all these battles Montrose carried everything
before him by the spirit of his first onset, and the
slai'phter was in general very great. He now descended
to the Lowlands, and at Kilsyth, near Olaspow, was
opposed by an army of 6000 men, whom the insurgent
t'ovemment at Edmburgh had hastily assembled from
Fife and Perthshire. These, with a much smaller force,
he also defeated (August 15), killing great numbers in
the pursuit. The committees of church and state then
broke up and left the kingdom, leaving him in appear-
ance its sole master. His successes had in the mean-
time given the king hopes of carrying on the war with
success; but Montrose hod in reality gained no sure
advantages. Besides his small army of mingled Irish
and Iliglilanders, there was hardly any ijortion of the
nation who did not regard him as only a great public
enemy. W'jile lying with a diminished force at Philip-
haugh, near Selkirk, he was surprised ('September II)
by a dctachme>-:t of the regular Scottish at my, under
General David Leslie, who completely defeated his
troops, and obliged him to leave the kingdom. His
having gained six victories in succession, over larger
bodies of iuen, has procured for Liiu a distiu^^uished
uamr>; but his cruelty, and the ambition to which his

fifht at Newbury (October 27), in which he iuif'sred a ..»...., «». .... v.„v..t, —.-. .— - .— . .-

defeat, he was left at thd end of the campaign with ! uotirei were coufiueti, detract frout hia character,
144

HISTOBT OF QBEAT BBITAIN AND IRELAND.

COMCLVSION OF THE CIVIL WAB.

The English campaign of 1645 ended in tlie complete
overthrow of the king. Throughout the war, his ene-
mies had been continually improving in discipline, in
conduct, and in that enthusiasm which animated them
so largely; while the Royalists had become, out of a mere
principle of opposition, so extremely licentious, as to be
rather a terror to their friends than to their enemies.
The new-modellin,';; of the Parliamentary army, whic> ^
took place early in 1645, had also aided mudi to the i themselves by all possible meanc against the Presbyte-

right of neW-modelling the gOTerameat and lettling
the nation. The House of Commons, supported by
the city of London, made a bold opposition to these
demands, but was ultimately obliged to yield to a force
which it had no means of resisting. From that time
military violence exercised an almost uncontrolled
mastery over England.

TRIAL AND BXECUTION OF THE KINO.

The leaders of the army being anxious to fortify

efiectiveneas of the troops, who were now nomin' iiy
commanded by Sir Thomas Fairfax, but in reality by
Oliver Cromwell, who bore the rank of lieutenant-gene-
ral. The consequence was that, in a pitched battle at
Naseby (June 14), the >ing was so completely beaten,
that he and his party could no longer Keep the field.
F.o had no resource but to retire into Oxford, a town
zealously affected to his cause, and well fortified.

He endeavoured, from this forlorn position, to renew
the negotiations for a peace; but every attempt of that
kind was frustrated by the Independents, who, though
a minority in the House of Commons, possessed great
power through the army, and, as already mentioned,
V' re desirous of effecting greater changes in church
and state than those for which the war was originally un-
dcrtiien. Dreading the influence of this body, Ciiavles
retired privately from Oxford (May 1646) on the ap-
proach of the Parliamentary forces, and put himself
under the protection of the Scottish army at Newark.

As the views of the Scotch throughout the war had
been steadily confined to the security of the Presbyte-
rian rcligioii, along with the safety of the king's per-
son and the establishment of a limited monarchy, they
received him w<th great respect at their camp, and
entered into negotiations for effecting their grand
object. If Charles would have acceded to their views,
he might have immediately resumed a great part of his
former power; and the agitations of many subsequent
years, as well as his own life, might have been spared.
But this was forbidden, not only by his strong prepos-
session in favour of the Episcopal forms of womhip,
but also by his conviction, that the Episcopal form of
church government was alone compatible with the exist-
ence of monarchy. He therefore disagreed with the Pres-
byterians on the very point which they considered the
most vital and im^' rtant.

From the time when Charles first threw himself into
the Scottish carip, the English Parliament had made
repciated and strenuous demands for the surrender of
his person into their hands. The Scots, however,
though acting partly as a mercenary army, asserted
their right, as on independent nation under the autho-
rity of the king, to retain and protect him. At length,
despairing of inducing him to sanction the Presbyterian
forms, and tempted by the sum of £400,000, which was
given to them as a Tompensation for their arrears of
pay, they consented tj deliver up their monarch, but
certainly without any apprehension of his life being in
danger, and, indeed, to a party quite different from
that by which he aflerwards suffered. The Scottish
irmy then retired (January 1647) to their native coun-
try, and were there disbanded.

The king was now placed in Holdeuby Castle, and
negotiations were opened for restoring him to power,
under certain restrictions. While these were pending,
the Parliament deemed it unnecessary to keep up t.iie
army, more especially as its spirit was plainly observed
to be of a dangerous character. On attempting, how-
nvci', to dismiss this powerful fori», the Eugliih Com-
mons found that their late servants were beccme their
maiiters. The troops began to hold something like a
Parliament in their own camp; a party of them, under
Comet Joyce, seized the king's person, and brought
him to Hampton Court. Cromwell, who was at the
bottom of their machinations, received from them the
chief command; and at his iutitigation they retorted
upon the Parliament with a demand for the dismissal
of ihe leaden of the Presbyterian party, and a general
No. CO.

nans, opened a negotiation with the king, whose influ-
ence, such as it now was, they proposed to purchase,
by allowing Episcopacy to be the state religion, and
leaving him in command of tJ'e militia. Charles, how-
ever, with characteristic insincerity, carried on at thtf
same time a negotiation with the Presbyterians, which,
being discovered by the military chiefs, caused them
to break off all terms with him. Under dread of their
resentment, he made his escape from Hampton Court
(November 11, 1647); and after an unsuccessful at-
tempt to leave the kingdom, was obliged to put him-
self under the charge of the governor of Carisbrooke
Castle, in the Isle of Wight. Here he entered upon a
new negotiation with the Hour? of Commons, to whom
he made proposals, and from whom he received certain
proposals in return; all of which were, however, ren-
dered of non-avail by a secret treaty whicli he at the
same time carried on with a moderate party of the
Scottish Presbyterians.

He final'y agreed with the latter party, but under
strict secrecy, to give their form of church government
a trial of three years, and yield to them in several other
points; they, in return, binding themselves to unite
their strength with the English Koyalists, for the pur-
pose of putting down the Independent party, now pre-
dominant in the English Parliament. With some
difficulty the Duke of Hamilton and others, who con-
ducted this negotiation, succeeded, by a vote of the
Scottish Parliament, in raising an army of 12,000 men,
with which they invaded England in the summer of
1648. The more zealous of the clergy and people of
Scotland protested against an enterprise, which, from
its co-operating with Royalists and Episcopalians, and
not perfectly insuring the ascendancy of the Presby-
terian church, appeared to them as neither deserving
of success nor likely to command it. As the Scottish
army penetrated the western counties, parties of Pres-
byterianf. and Royalists rose in different parts of Eng-
land, anu for some time the ascendancy of the Inde-
pendents seemed to be in considerable peril. But
before the forces of the enemy could be orought to-
gether, Cromwell, with 8000 veteran troops, attacked
and ovei^'^rew Hamilton at Preston, while Fairfax put
down tiie insurgents in Kent and Essex. Hamilton
was himself taken prisoner, and very few of his troops
ever returned to their native country.

While Cromwell was employed in suppressing this
insurrection, and in restoring a friendly government in
Scotland, the Presbyterians cf the House of Commons,
relieved from military intimidation, entered upon a
new negotiation with Charles, which was drawing to-
wards what appeared a successful conclusion — though
the king secretly designed to deceiv.e them, and to pur-
sue other means for an effectual restoration — when the
army returned to London, breathing vengeance against
him for this last war, of which they considered him as
the author. Finding the Parliament in the act of vot-
ing his concessions to be satisfactory, Cromwell sent
two regiments, unde; Colonel Pride, who forcibly ex-
cluded from it about two hundred members of the
Presbyterian party; a transaction remembered by the
epithet of Pi-ide's Purge. The remainder, being chiefly
Independents, were ready to mve a colour of law to
whatever farther measure might be dictated by the
military leaders. Convinced of the utter faithlessness
of the king, and that, if he continued to live, he would
take the curliest opportunity of revenging himself for
what had already been done, CromwcU »nd his asso-

145

OBAXBEItfra nfOBlUTKni Mil TBB FIOPLI.

oU«M ttlolJti to put Um to dwth. A"'*'' Court of
Juftiot. 91. it WM oHlod, WM »|»point«d by ordlnMoa,
coniiirtiU of ^hundred Mid thlrty-throe penoni. nunod
indlff««Bily from the Pwliwnent, the •rmy. wd luoh
of the dtiM6s* M were known to be well a^d to the
Independent pwty. Thif body Mt down in Weitmin.
iter fiTu (Jaiuwy 20. 1649), under the pweidenoy of
a barrifter named Bi-adriiaw, while another named
Coke acted ae eolicitor for the people of England.
Charles, jrho had been remove J to St Jame»'» Palace,
wae taMVbt before thie court, and acoueed of having
wace?ind renewed war upon hi* people, and of having
attempted to ertablieh tyranny in place of the limited
leoal power with which ho had been intruitod. He
draied the authority of the court, and prt**^*^ aJt^inst
the whole of the prooeedingg, but wa« arthele>8
found guilty and condemned to die. C. i 30th of
January, he' wae accordingly beheaded ii j»>* of hii
palace of Whitehall. The people vert in general
bomr-itruck at this event; but they vrero too efleo-
tually kept in check b^ the army to have any influence
in preveutbg or resenting it.

Charlee I. wa« a man of ilender penon, of the middle
size, and of a grave and somewhat melancholy cast of
countenance. He had not a gracious manner, but pos-
lessed considerable dignity. He was sinoerely attached
' to the Church of England, for which he might be con-
tidered as a martyr, and he was able to reason very
acutely in favour of the divine origin of Episcopacy.
The general opinion of modem times respecting his
political conduut'ia unfavourable; though few dr / that
his death was a most disgraceflil, as woll as imprudent
act, on the part of those who brought it about. The
worst point of his character was his insincerity: he was
proue to using equivocations, with a view to deceive
his opponents, and therefore no enemy could depend
upon him in negotiation. In private life he was a vir-
tuous man, and he is entitled to much credit for the
taste which he diiplayed in the encouragement of the
fine arts. He left three sons— Charles, Prince of Wales;
James, Duke of York, afterwards James II. ; and Henry,
Duke of Gloucester, who died in early life. He also
left several daughters, one of whom, named Elizabeth,
was treated with much harshness by tbe new govern-
ment, and died not long after him in prison.

In the reign of Charles I., the chief literary men
were Ben Jonson and Philip Massinger, dramatists,
and Samuel Daniel, Michael Dra^n, and William
Drummond, poets. The most emment philosophical
character wa,t Dr William Harvey, who discovered the
circulat-or. of the blood. Elegant architecture was now
for the first time introduced- into private buildings.
The king patronised the Dutch artists, Rubens and
Vandyke, and collected many fine pictures, which were
afterwards sold by his enemies. The Excise and the
tax upon landed property were introduced by the Par-
liament, in order to support the war against the kin^.
When the Parliamentary party became triumphant, it
supprefsed the theatre, which was not again k' up till
the restoration of monarchy.

THE COHHONWEALTD — SUBJUGATION OF laXLAND AND
SCOTLAND.

Though the execution of the king produced a con-
siderable reaction in favour of royalty, the small re-
maining part of the House of Commons, which ^ot the
ridiculous nickname of the Rump, now established a
republic, under the title of the Commonwealth, the
executive being trusted, under great limitations, to a
council of forty-one members, while in reality Cromwell
possessed the chief influence. The House of Peers was
voted a grievance, and aboli«he<l, and the people were
declared to be the legitimate source of all power. Soon
after the king's death, the Duke of Hamilton, and a
few other of his chief adherents, were executed.

During the progress of the civil war, Ireland had

been the scene of almost ceaseless contention among the

various parties of the king, the English House of Com-

raouB, and the Cwtholiw. none of which could eflfoctually

Uff

luppiws the rest. The most r?inarkable event was a
secret agreement which Charles made, in 1646, with
the Earl of Glamorgan, to establish the Catholic reli-
gion in Ireland, on condition that its partisans should
assist him in putting down his enemies in England and
Scotland; a transaction which ultimately injured his
reputation, without leading to any solid advantage. At
the time of his execution, the Royalists were in consi-
derable strength under the Duke of Ormond, while
Hugh O'Neill was at the head of a large party of Ca-
tholics, who were not indisposed to join the other party,
provided they couM be assured of the establishment of
their religion. While the two parties in union could
have easihr rescued the country from the English con-
nection, Cromwell landed (August 1640) with 12,000
hone and foot, and in a series of victories over the
scattered forces of his various opponents, succeeded
without any great difliculty in asserting the sway of the
Commonwealth. One of his most important actions
was the capture of Droeheda, where he put the garrison
and a number of Catholic priests to the sword, in order
to strike terror into the nation.

The people of Scotland, who had had scarcely any
other object in the civil war than the establishment of
their favourite form of worship, and were sincere friends
to a limited monarchv. heard of the death of the king
with the greatest indignation, and immediately pro-
claimed his eldest son Cnarles. Early in 1650, the young
monarch, who had taken refuge in Holland, sent Mon-
trose with a small force to attempt a Cavalier insurrec-
tion in Scotland ; but this nobleman being taken and
put to death. Charles found it necessary' to accede to
the views of the Scotch respecting the Presbgi<terian reli-
gion, and he was accordingly brought over and put at
the head of a considerable armv, though under great
restrictions. Cromwell, who bad now nearly completed
the conquest of Ireland, lost no time in retummg to
London, and organising an army for tho suppression of
this new attempt against the Commonwealth.

On the 19th of July he crossed the Tweed, and ad-
vanced through a deserted country to Edinburgh, where
the Scottish army lay in a fortified camp. Sickness in
hid army, and the want of provisions, e after com-
pelled him to retreat; and the Scottish army, following
upon his rear, brought him into a straitened position
near Dunbar, where he would soon have been under
the necessity of surrendering. In the midst of his per-
plexities (September 3). he beheld the Scots advancing
from the neighbouring heights to give him battle, and,
in a transport of joy. exclaimed, ' The Lord hath deli-
vered them into our hands ! ' The movement was solely
the result of interference on the part of the clergy who
followed the Scottish camp: the better sense of General
Leslie would have waited for the voluntary surrender
of his enemy. In the fight which ec.^ed, the veteran
troops of Cromwell soon proved victorious. The Sects
fled in consternation and confusion, and were cut down
in thousands by their pursuers. This gained for Crom-
well tho possession of the capital and of all the south-
east provinces ; but the Covenanters still made a strong
appearance at Stirling.

Cromwell spent a whole year in the country, vainly
endeavouring to bring on another action. During the
interval (January 1, 1651), the Scots crowned the voung
king at Scpne, part of the ceremony consisting in his
acceptance of the Solemn League and Covenant. In
the ensuing summer, Cromwell at length contrived to
outflank tho position of the Scottish army; but the re-
sult was, that Charles led kis troops into England with-
out opposition, and made a very threatening advance
upon the capital. Ere the Rovalists had time to rally
around him, Cromwell overtook the king at Worcester,
where, after a, stoutly - contested fight (September 3,
1651), he proved completely victorious. Charles, with
great difficulty, escaped abroad, and Scotland, no longer
possessed of a military force to defend itself, submitted
to the conqueror. All the courts of the Scottish church
were suppressed, and the ministers were left no priyi-
lege but that of preaching to tboir Hocks, The country

HISTOBT OF GREAT BRITAIIT AST) TSSSLAXD.

WM kept in check by a small army under General Monk,
and in a ihort time irai declared by croolamation to
be united witli England. Thui wae the Independent
party, or rather Cromwell, left without a single armed
enemy. Ah the efforts of the people during twelve
years to obtain limitations upon the monarchy, had
ended in a military despotism I

XUE PROTECTOOATE.

After the country and its dependenciei had been
thoroughly settled under the new government, the re-
publican leaders resolved upon commencing hostilities
against Holland, which, during the civil war, had noni-
fested a decided leaning towards the king, and had re-
cently treated the triumphant party with marked dis-
respect. In the summer of 1652, the Dutch fleet, under
its famous commanders Van Tromp, De Rujrter, and
De Witt, had several encounters with the English ships,
under Admirals Blake and Ayscue, without any decided
success on either side. But in the ensuing spring, an
action was fought between Blake and Van Trc.::p, in
which the latter lost eleven ships. The Dutch then
sued for peace, which the Rump Parliament, for various
reasons, were little inclined to grant. Their principal
motive for prosecuting the war, was a conviction that
it tended to restrict the power of Cromwell, to whom
they now paid by no means a willing obedience. Crom-
well, perceiving their design, proceeded with 300 soldiers
to the House (April l(>5a), and entering with marks of
the most violent indignation, loaded the members with
reproaches for their robbery and oppression of the
public; then stamping with his foot, lie gave signal for
the soldiers to enter, and addressing hiuself to the
members, ' For shame 1' said he; * get you gone I give
place to honester menl I tell you you are no longer
a Parliament : the Lord has done with you 1 ' He then
commanded ' that bauble,' meaning the mace, to be
taken away, turned out the members, and locking the
door, returned to Whitehall with the key in his pocket.

Being still willing to keep up the appearance of a
representative government, Cromwell summoned one
hundred and forty-four persons in England, Ireland,
and Scotland, to assemble as a Parliament. These in-
dividuals^ chiefly remarkable for fanaticism and igno-
rance, were denominated tho Barebona Parliament,
from the name of one of the members, a leather-seller,
vi'hose assumed name, by a ridiculous usage of the age,
was Praise-God Barebones. As the assembly obtained
no public respect, Cromwell took an early opportunity
of dismissing it. His officers then constituted him
Protector of the Commonwealth of Great Britain and
Ireland, with most of the prerogatives of tho late king.

The war against Holland was still carried on with
great spirit. In the summer of 1653, two naval actions,
in which both parties fought with the utmost bravery,
terminated in the triumph of the English, and the com-
plete humiliation of the Dutch, who obtained peace on
the condition of paying homage to the English ilag, ex-
pelling the young king from their dominions, and pay-
ing a compensation for certain losses to the East India
Company. In a war which he subsequently made
against Spain, the fleets of the Protector performed
some exploits of not less importance. The respect
which he thus gained for the English name throughout
Europe, is one of the brightest points in his singular
history. But while generally successful abroad, he ex-
perienced unceasing difficulties in the management of
aflairs at home. Of the various Parliaments which he
summoned, no one was found so carefully composed of
his own creatures as to yield readily to his will: he was
obliged to dissolve them all in succession, after a short
trial. He also experienced great difficulty in raising
money, and sometimes applied for loans in the city with-
out success. His own oilicers could scarcely be kept
in subordination, but were constantly plotting a reduc-
tion of his authority. The Royalists, on the other
hand, never ceased to conspire for his destruction ; one,
named Colonel Titus, went so far as to recommend
his assassination in a pamphlet entitled ' Killing no

Murder,' after reading which he wai nerer s«en again
to smile.

The last Parliament called hy Cromwell was in Jan-
uary 1656; when, besides the Commons, he tummoned
the few remaining peers, and endeavoured, by ennobling
some of his officers, to make up a kind of Upper House,
This assembly proved as intractable as its predecessorit
and he contracted such a disgust at the very nature of
a representative legislatui'e, as to resolre, like Cbarle*
I., never to call another. His health finally saut^nnder
the effects of his ill-gotten power, and he died-vn the
3d September 1G58, a day which was thought to be pr>-

Eitiouj to him, as it was the anniversary of several of
is victories. His eldest son, Richard, a weak young
man, succeeded him as Protector, and was at first treated
with all imaginable respect; but he could not long main-
tain a rule which even his father had ultimately failed
in asserting. He quietly slunk out of public view, leav-
ing the supreme authority in the hands of the Rump,
wMch had taken the opportunity to reassemble.

THE RESTORATION — DCTCB WAR.

This remnant of an old Parliament continued in power
till the autumn of 1659, when it gave way to a council
of the officers who had been in command under Crom-
well. The latter government, in its turn, yielded to the
Rump, which sat down once more in December. The
people, finding themselves mad() the qport of a few
ambitious adventurers, began to long for some more
fixed and respectable kind of government. At this
crisis. General Monk, commander of the forces in Scot-
la ^ ' conceived the design of settling the nation. He
le. tland (January 2, 1660), with a considerable
arm^ , and though he kept his thoughts scrupulously
to himself, all men bent their eyes upon huu, as a
person destined to realise their hopes. He reached
London (February 3), and was received with feigned
respect by the Rump. F ^me resistance was attempted
by Lambert, one of Cromwell's officers, but in vain.
Ere long. Monk was able to procure the restoration of
the members who had been excluded from Parliament
by Cromwell, who, being a majority, gave an immediate
ascendancy to anti-republican views. As soon as this
was '%cted, an act was passed for calling a new ^vnd
freely dected Parliament ; after which, the exib'.^g
assembly immediately dissolved itself.

The new Parliament proved to be chiefly composed
of Cavaliers and Presbyterians, men agreeing in their
attachment to monarchy, though diifering in manv
other views. After some cautious procedure, in which
the fears inspired by the late military tyranny were
conspicuous, they agreed to invite the king from his
retii'ement in Holland, and to restore him to the throne
lost by his father. They were so glad to escape from
the existing disorders, that they never thought of
making any preliminary arrangement with the king as
to the extent of his prerogative. On the 29th of May,
being his thirtieth birthday, Charles II. entered Lon-
don amidst such frantic demonstrations of joy, that he
could not help thinking it his own fault, as he said,
that he had been so long separated from his people.

One of the first measures of the new monarch was
the passing of a bill of indenmity, by which all per-
sons concerned in the late popular movements were
pardoned, excepting a few who had been prominently
concerned in bringing the king to the block. Harrison,
Scrope, and a few other regicides, were tried and exe-
cuted; and the bodies of Cromwell, Ireton, and Brad-
shaw, were raised from the grave and exhibited upon
gibbets. In Scotland, only three persons suffered — th»
Marquis of Argyle, Johnston of Warriston, and Mr
Guthry, a cleigyman: it was considered remarkable,
that the marquis had placed the crown upon the king's
head at Scone in the year 1651. Excepting in these
acts, the kin^ showed no desire of revenging the death
of his father, or his own exclusion from the throne.
Tlie Parliament which called him home was constituted
a legal one by his own ratification of an act for that
purpose. In the settlement of other matters, it seemed

147

CBAMBEBffS INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

the pwTftlllBg with th«4 M th« InttituUoM of the
country ihoulS be made m "•"'/JT*'** A V?^ i

ehureh wm tMblithed Voth in EnglMdwd Soot and,
though not without »uiing about » third of the clergy
in b?th oountriei to redgn their cbargee. The item
and enthudartio piety which pievaUed during the civil
war wai now treated with ridicule, and the iuo«t of the
neople vied with each other in that licentioue riot and
drunkenneM which i» condemned by all ivstemi of
faith. The nation, in fact, eeemed intoxicated with the
■af«ty which the* luppoaed themselTei to have at
leocra gained, in a reetoration to the imperfect freedom
they eijoyed before the civil war.
f heland, which, during the Protectorate, had been
managed by Henry, a younger eon of Cromwell, ac-
ceded to the R«Mtoration with ai much readineea as
any other part of the Britiih dominions. An act was
passed for settling property, by which the Catholics
obtained some slight benefits, but which, in its main
efifacts, tended to confirm the rights of the settlers
Introduced by Cromwell.

Though Charles had been restored with the appro-
bation of a very large poition of his subjects, his most
zealous friends were the Rovalists and Episcopalians;
hence he almost immediately subsided into the cha-
racter of a party ruler. It was deemed necessaiy that
he should maintain an armed force for the protection
of his person, and to keep down popular disturbances.
He therefore caused several horse regiments to be
embodied under the name of Life Guards, being chiefly
composed o F' Royalist gentlemen upon whom a ptirfect
dependencf could be ]|>Iaced; and he afterwards added
two or three foot regiments, the whole amounting to
about 5000 men. The king paid these troops chiefly out
of the money allowed for his own support, for Parlia-
ment did not sanction his keepinc up such a force, and
the nation generally beheld it with susj^icion. This was
the commencement of a itatiding army in England.

Personally indolent, dissolute, and deficient in con-
scientiousness, and surrounded almost eiclusiveiy by
the ministers of the basest pleasures, Charles was not
qualified to retain the sincere respect of a people whose
habitual character is grave and virtuous. His extra-
vagant expenditure soon cooled the afiisctions of his
Parliament, and he began to find considerable difii-
culties in obtaining money. To relieve himself from
this embarrassment, he accepted £40,000 from the
French king for Dunkirk, a French port, which had
been acquired by Cromwell. For the same purpose, he
married a Portuguese princess of the Catholic religion,
who possessed a dowry of half a million. He also oom-
menosd (1664) a war against Holland, for apparently
no better reason than that, in applying the Parlia-
mentanr subsidies necessary for keeping up hostilities,
he might have an opportunity of converting part of the
money to his own penonal use.

This Dutch war was chiefly conducted by sea. On
the 3d of June 1665, an English fleet of 114 sail met a
Dutch one which numbered just one ship less, near
Lowestoflfe, and after an obstinate fight, gained a com-
plete victory, depriving the enemy of eighteen vessels,
and compelling the rest to take refuge on their own
coast. The commander on this occasion was the Duke
of York, the king's younger brother; a man of greater
iq>plication and more stwdy principles, but who soon
after became unpopular, in consequence of his avowing
himself a Catholic.

Some other well-contested actions took place at sea,
and the English, upon the whole, confirmed their naval
•Ujpramacy. Owing, however, to a failure of the sup-
plies, the king was obligiid to lay up his best vessels in
ordinary, and to send only an inferior force to sea. The
Dutch took advantage of this occurrence to send a fleet
up the Thames (June 10, 1667), which, meeting with
no adequate reristance, threatened to lay the capital in
ruins and destroy its shipping. Fortunately, the Dutch
admiral did net think it expe<lient to make this attempt, j
but retired with the ebb of the tide, after having sunk |
148

and burnt nearly twenty vessels, and dona much other
damage. The king, finding himself rather impoverished
than enriched by the war, soon after concluded a peace.

PUaUB AND PIHl OF LONDON — PBBaBCUTION IN 8Can.AND.

In the meantime two extraordinary calamities had
befallen the metropolis. In the summer of 1 665, Lou-
don was visited by a plague, which swept oft about
100,000 people, and did not experience any abatement
till the approach of cold weatner. On this occasion
the city presented a v.ide and heartrending scene of
misery and desolation. Rows' of houses stood tenant-
less, and open to the winds; the chief thoroughfares
were overgrown with grass. The few individuals who
ventured abroad, walked in the middle o' the streets,
and when they met, declined oii opposi' a sides to avoid
the contact of each other. At one moment were heard
the ravings of delirium, or the wail of sorrow, from the
infected dwelling; at another the merry song or care-
less laugh from the tavern, where men were seeking to
drown in debauchery all sense of their awful situation.
Since 1665, the plague has not again occurred in Lon-
don, or in any other part of the kingdom.

Tho second calamity was a conflagration, which com-
menced on the night of Sunday the 2d of September
1666, in the eastern id more crowded part of the city.
The direction and violence of the wind, the combustible
nature of the houses, and the defective arrangements
of that age for extinguishing fires, combined to favour
the progresa of the flames, which raged during the
whole of the week, and burnt all that part of the city
which lies between the Tower and the Temple. By this
calamity, 13,200 houses and 89 churches, covering in
all 430 acres of ground, were destroyed. The flame at
one time formed a column a mile in diameter, and
seemed to mingle with the clouds. It rendered the
night as clear as day for ten miles around the city, and
is said to have produced an effect upon the sky which
was observed on the borden of Scotland. It had one
good eflect, in causing the streets to be formed much
wider than before, by which the city was rendered
more healthy. By the populace, this fire was believed
to have been the work of the Catholics, and a tall pillar,
with an inscription to that eflect, was reared in the ,
city, as a monument of the calamity. This pillar with
its inscription still exists ; but the fire is now believed
to have been occasioned purely by accident.

Meanwhile, in Scotland great dissatisfaction had been
occasioned by the imposition of Episcopacy upon tho
chureh, and advantage had been taken of various acts
of itsi^tance on the part of the cler^ and people, to
visit both with measures of considerable severity.
Heavy fines were imposed upon such as failed to attend
the ministrations of the established cleigy, on the sus-
picion that, when not at chureh, they were hearing the
ejected clergymen in some private place. A small
standing army was kept up to enforce the fines, and,
till these were paid, free quarters were exacted for the
soldiers. Tired of suflfering, a few of tho peasantry of
Galloway rose in rebellion (November 1666), and ad-
vancing through the disaflected districts of Ayrahire
and lAnarkshire, gradually assumed ct threatening
appearance. An unfortunate movement towards Edin-
burgh, where they expected accessions, thinned their
numt>er8, and they were overpowered by General Dal-
yell at the Pentland Hills. Thirty-four of the prisonen
were executed as rebels, chiefly at the instigation of
Sharpe, Arehbishop of St Andrews, who, with the other
prelate was peculiarly zealdus in behalf of the govern-
ment. Besides these sufferers, fifty persons, including
fifteen cleig''men, forfeited lands and goods.

Some attempts were now made, at the desire of tho
king, to induce the ejected clergy to connect them-
selves with the church ; but very few took advantage
of a leniency which they believed would have been
extended also to Catholics, and which involved their
acknowledgment of the king's supremacy in spiritual
affairs. About the year 1670, some divines began to
hold conventicles in secluded parts of the country, to

BISTORT OF GREAT BRITAIK AKD IRELAND.

uch other'
loveriihsd
d»p««ce.

SCOTLAND.

nitiM had
I66S, Lou-
off about
abutemeut
iS occasion
g scene of
od tenant-
iroughfarci
iduali who
the streeti,
.ea to avoid
nere heard
IT, from the
ng or care-

I seeking to

II situation,
red in Lon-

which coin-
' September
i of the citv.
combustible
Tangements
id to favour
during the
b of the citpr
iple. By this
, covering in
rhe flame at
iaroeter, and
'endered the
the city, and
le sky which
, It had one
)rmed much
rendered
was believed
tall pillar,
tared in the ,
_ pillar with
low believed

ion had been
;y upon the
various acts
people, to
_j severity.
3d to attend
on the sus-
hearing the
A small
fines, and,
•ted for the

ntry of

,;, and ad-
>f Ayrshire
threatening
riuds Edin-
_med their
metal Dal-
ke prisoners
Itigotion of
1 the other
|the govem-
, including

Isire of tho

liect theni-

I advantage

Ihave been

l)lved their

spiritual

began to

fcountr^, to

which the eountnr people used to come with arms. At
these places a far warmer kind of devotion was felt
than could be experienced under tamer circumstances;
and, as may be supposed, such meetings were not cal-
culated to di£FUse or foster a sentiment of loyalty. Sen-
sible of this, the government obtained an act, imposing
very severe fines on all who should preach or listen at
conventicles ; but without producing any eflect. The
penalties with which they were threatened seemed only
to make the people more attached to their peculiar
modes of worship and church government.

TUB TI^IPLE ALLIANCE — THE FBBNCH ALLIANCE.

The kinffdom of France was at this period, under
Louis XIV., rising into a decree of power and wealth
which it had never before Known. Louis had some
claims through his wife upon the Netherlands (since
called Belgium), which were then part of the Spanish
dominions. He accordingly endeavoured to possess
himself of that country by fo.ce of arms. A jealousy
of his increasing power, and of the Catholic religion,
professed by his people, induced the English to wish
that his aggressions should be restrained. To gratify
them, Chules entered into an alliance with Holland
and Sweden, for the purpose of checking the progress
of the French king. In this object he was completely
successful, and consequently he became very popular.
The Parliament, however, havine disappointed him tf
supplies, he soon after entirely changed his_ policy, and
with the assistance of five abandoned ministers — Clif-
ford, Ashley, Buckingham, Arlington, and Lauderdale,
who were called the cabal, from the initials of their
names forming that word, resolved to render himself,
if possible, independent of Parliament ; in other words,
an absolute prince. In consideration of a large bribe
from Louis, he agreed to join France in a war against
Holland, with a view of putting an end to that ex-
ample of a Protestant republic.

War was accordingly declared in May 1672, and the
naval fofce of England was employed in meeting that
of the Dutch by sea ; while Louis led a powerful army
across the Rhine, and in a very short time had nearly
reduced the whole of the Seven Provinces. In this
emergency the Dutch could only save themselves from
absolute ruin by laying a great part of their country
under water. The English, who had not entered heartily
into this war, soon began to be alarmed for the fate of
Holland, which was almost their only support against
the dread of Popery; and though forbidden under
severe penalties to censure the government measures,
they STon contrived to exhibit so much dissatisfaction,
as to render a change of policy unavoidable.

The kuig found it necessary to assemble his Parlia-
ment (February 1673), and it was no sooner met than
it passed some acts highly unfavourable to his designs.
Among these was the famous Test Act, so called be-
, cause it enacted the imposition of a religious oath upon
all persons about to enter the public service, the design
being to exclude the Catholics from office. Above all
things, the House of Commons declared that it would
grant no more supplies for the Dutch war. The king
resolved to prorogue the assembly; but before he could
do so, they voted the alliance with France, and several
of his ministers, to be grievances. Charles, who, in
wishing to be absolute, had been inspired by no other
motive than a desire of ease, now saw that there was a
better chance of his favourite indulgence in giving way
to liis subjects than in any other course; and he at once
abandoned all his former measures, and concluded a
separate peace with Holland. This country was now
beginning, under the conduct of the Prince of Orange,
to make a good defence against the French, which it
was the better enabled to do by obtaining the friendship
of Germany and Spain. In the year 1678, after a war
which, without any decisive victories, will ever reflect
lustre upon Holland, a peace was concluded. The
Prince of Orange, in the previous year, had married
the Princess Mary, eldest daughter of the Duke of
York, and educated in the reformed faith— an alliance

which pleased the English, from iti itrenothening th«
Protestant interest, and which was destined, some yean
after, to bring about important iwults.

During the whole of this reign the oomiptneH of the
court was very great; but it was in some mt>asure the
protection of the public. Charles spent vast sums in
debauchery, and thus made himself more dependent on
his Commons than he would otherwise have been.
Many of the Commons were exceedingly corrupt, and
all kinds of evil methods were adopted to render them
more so. Bribes were distributed among them, and
they were frequently olouUd; that is, brought into the
presence of the king individually, and personally soli-
cited for votes. Stul a considerable party mabtained
its purity and independence, and long kept a mi^orit/
against the court.

THE POPISH PLOT.

For a century past, one of the grand moving-springi
of the public conduct had been a strong detestation and
dread of the adherents of the Romish church. Thii
sentiment did not arise from any fear of the .lumben or
political strength of the Catholics, for they were but a
small minority of the nation, but from a belief gene-
rally enteriained that the Catholics scrupled at no
treachery or cruelty which might seem favourable to
the re-establishment of their religion. The popular,
notions, newly inflamed by the avowed Catholicism of
tho Duke of York, heir-presumptive to the crown, and
by the late intrigues of the king with France, were en-
couraged by a party who wished to impose restrictions
upon the royal prerogative, and to exclude the duke
from the succession. In 1678, an account of a plot,
supposed to have been formed by the Papists, for
burning London, massacring the Protestants, and de-
stroying the king and the Protestant religion, was
circulated by one Kirby, a chemist; Tong, a weak,
credulous person ; and Titus Oates, one of the most
abandoned miscreants that ever appeared in hirtory.
The circumstances attending this pretended discovery
were so unlike reality, that if the nation had not been
in a state of hallucination at the time, they never could
have beon for a moment listened to.

Nevertheless, the Popish Plot, as it was called, was
not only generelly believed by the people, but also by
the Parliaraen'- ind the court; and such was the extent
of the excitement, that a general massacre of the
Catholics was apprehended. Even the king, though
incredulous, was obliged to give way to the prevailing
delusion. Meanwhile letters were seized, which dis-
covered that the Duke of York carried on a corres-
pondence with France, in opposition to the religion and
interests of his country. A correspondence of the king's
minister Danby, which involved the king in the disgrace
of similar machinations, was detected ; and to crown
the whole. Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, the magistrate
who first gave publicity to the plot, was found in the
fields dead, ^ith his own sword stuck through his body.
For two ^ears this horrible delusion reigned over the
public mind, and under its influence many innocent
Catholics were condemned '-> death. At length the
execution of a venerable noDieman, the Viscount Staf-
ford, excited a general sensation of pity, and the people
padually saw and repented of the excesses which they
had committed.

THE HABEAS CORPUS ACT — THE EXCLUSION BILL.

At this period the House of Commons appears for
the first time formally separated into the two parties
who have ever since been recognised in it. The ap-
pellation Tory, applied to the friends of the Court, was
originally brought from Ireland, where the word Toree
(give me), used by a Cavalier banditti, had gradually
been extended to the whole of the Cavalier or Royalist
party. Tho term Whig, which fell to the lot of the
Oppositi jn, is said to hare originated in Scotland, being
first applied to the sterner portion of the Presbyterian
party >n the western counties.

Tho Parliament h»Ting impeached Danby, the kiag

14«f

CHAMBiBM nrfOBlLLnOl fOB TBS FHOIUL

dlMoIrwl U, Mul onlUd u»«tli«r. Tli« new MNmblir,
which m«l in Ootobtt 167», p«>T«d •qu.ily unoontron-
abla M the lait. It paiMd. by ^J'^orii.y of wwily.
nlna, » IIU •xoludiuM tii« Duke of York from the iuc-
omioni declwwl thAing'* Ou»rd* wd itfcndmg ■.rmy
Uleml I wd pMeed the Balm* Corptu act, which,
limiting the time between the •pprehwuiou of a lup-
noted wiwinal and hie triiO, rendered it iiiipoiiiblB for
il^or any Ibture aorereign to keep iiiUiTiduali in
prlwn at hk pleaaure, ai had formerly been done. The
Utt mearare u itUl Justly looked upon ai the ji^at bul-
wark of pereonal liberty in Britain. Though the bill
fbr excluding the Duke of York waa thrown out by the
Upper Uou«e, that prince found it ucceHary to eyade
tke popuhur odium, firet by retiring to Bruueli, and
l^fterwardi to Scotland. At the laiiie time, the Duke
of Monmouth, eldest natural lou of tho kins, and
beliered by many to be legitimate, began to bo re-
garded by the Pn '•byteriaua and liberal party in
general ae a preferable heir to the crown. In thoM
■gitationi, the populace of London waa particularly
active ; and it waa at thia period that tho term mob
waa firat uaed. The word waa an abbreyiation of
mobiie vulgiu, a phraao signifying ' the unateody
vulgar,' which tho court contemptuously applied to
tho crowds which daily aatembled.

FEBSECirtlON IN SCOTLAND.

Tho persecution in Scotland for field-meetbgs waa
so seyere, that, before the year l(l7tt, it was supposed
that 17,000 persons had suffered by it in fine, impri-

Iaonment, and death. A bond was attempted to be im-
posed upon the people, in which conventicles were re-
nounced { and to enforce it in the west country, on
army of 10,000 Highloiulers was permitted to ransc
thero at free quarters. Nothing, it waa found, could
breikk the resolution of the people to adhere to their
favourite modea of worship; on the contrary, all these
severe measures inspired a deep resentment against
the government, as well as the prelates. Oi the 2d of
May 1679, as Archbishop Sharpo was going in L<s coach
to St Andrews, he was besot by a body of desuerate
men, among whom v re Balfour of Burleigh, and llack-
Btoun of BAthillet, who cruelly slew him. An insur-
rection of the west country conventiclers immediately
followed, and a party of dragoons sent against them,
under Captain Oraham of Claverhouse, was gallantly
lepulaed at Loudon Hill. In a brief apace, about
500O men wore found in arms against tho atate,
among whom were many of the lesser gentry, the com-
mand being assumed by a gentleman named Hamilton,
The rebellion was conaidered so fonnidable, that the
Duke of Monmouth waa sent down to head the troopa for
ita suppreaaion. He found them poated advantageously
at Bothwell Bridge (June 2'2) ; but divisions on certain
reUgious and political points unfitted them for making
a good resistance. After defending the bridge for a
while, they turned in a panic, and fled. Three hundred
were killed in the purauit, and I'iOU taken prisoners.

This unfortunate insurrection, being followed up by
f.«8h severities, cD'ectually subdued all disposition to
reaistiinoe, except in a small party of the Nonconform-
ists, whose principles were of an unusually enthusiastic
kind. Twenty armed men, professing these principles,
were assailed by a detachment of dragoons in Airsmoa*
(1680), when their leader Cameron, a clergyman, and
several others, were killed, af^er a desperate resistance.
Cargill, another preacher of this extreme sect, soon
after held a conreuticle at Torwood, near Stirling, where
he formally excommunicated the king, his brother, and
ministers. These proceedings hivd a highly injurious
effect, in as far as they gave occasion for fresh severities
•gainst the whole party ; but they originated in such
puro and pious motives, and brought down such cala-
mities upon the unshrinking heads of thoae concerned
in them, that they have ever since been regarded in
Scotland with great respect.

The more uncompromising party soon after arranged
tbemeelvea into wiiat they (»Ued a Secret Society, and
150

(12th Januaiy 16B9) openly appeared at Lanark, where
they published a declaration or their principles, among
which a renunciation of all allegiance to Charles 11.
mat the moat remarkable. The dispute between the
government and its subjects had now arrived at such
an extremity, that individuals were shot in the tlelds
by military law, if they merely refused to acknowledge
the royal authority. The most of the people, unable or
unwilling to resist, were therefore obliged to give an
extenial reverence to the church established amongst
them, or at least to the irregular clergy, who, by sub-
inisnions odious to tho community, liau recoived what
wiia called an indtilgenee, or permission to preach. A
great di mition prevailed to emigrate to the American
colonies, as the only means of escaping the opprctsivo
restraints which prevailed at home.

lUK Kl.NU HKCOMU AltSOLUTR.

In the meantime, an >3xtraordinary revolution took
place in i!)ngland. About the time that popular feeling
waa recovering fVom the mania respecting the Popish
Plot, the House of Commons had shovm stronger symp-
toms than ever of a determination to seek tho exclusion
of the Duke of York from the throne. The time was
unfortunate, for men were beginning to suspect that
they had been deceived in many of their surmises about
danger from the Catholics. The object, moreover,
touched upon a principle which many men in that age
deemed sacred — that of hereditary Muccession ; nor was
it possible to blame the king for opposing a measure so
unfavourable to tho interests of his nearest blood rela-
tion. In fact, the Whig party pushed their favourite
measure to auch a point, aa to cause a reaotiou of tho
public mind against their views.

The king called a now Parliament to meet at Oxford,
resolved, in the event of ita not proving moro tractable,
to take advantage of the popular feeling, dissolve the
assembly, and never call another. It met on the 2l8t
of March 1681, and the Whigs toon showed that the
Exclusion Bill waa still uppermost in their minds. The
king pennittml one of his ininisten to propose, that at
his death the Princess of Urange should reign as regent,
and the new king be for ever banished Ave hundi'ed
miles from his dominions. To this concession, which
now seems much greater than could have reasonably
been expected, they would not listen for a moment.
Charles then diasofved the Parliament aa utterly in-
tractable, and, as he expected, he was genorally ap-
plauded for the act. Popular feeling had now taken a
turn in favi^ur of royalty ; and the representative branch
of the legislature, long regarded with veneration by tho
English, was once more permitted to go down .vithout
a struggle. The king henceforth ruled entirely without
control, being secretly supplied with money by France,
in consideration of his non-interference with the con-
quoits of that country.

TUB HVB-HOUSE PLOT — DEATH OF CHARLES It.

A fit of slavishneas now befell the English nation, ns
remarkable in its extent as the late fury against the
court and the Catholics. Supported by this mood of
the people, Charles caused all the corporations in the
kingdom to give up their old charters, and accept of
new ones, by which he became all-powerful over the
elections of magistrate?, and, conse4|uently, over thoso
of parliamentr.ry rrrsrcsci.totivea, should ever another
election of thr.t kind take place. The leaders of tho
late majority in Psrliainent, comprising tho Duke of
Monmouth, I^ord Uusaell (son of the Earl of Bedrord),
the Earl of Essex, Lord HoWard, the famous Algernon
Sydney, and .lohn Hampden, grandson of the patriot
who first resisted Charles I., being reduced to absolute
despair, formed a project for raising an insurrection in
London, to be supported by one in the west of England,
and another under the Earl of Argyle in Scotland, and
the object of which should bo confined to a melioration
of the government. They were betrayed by nn asso-
ciate named Rumsay, and implicated, by a train of
uofortttuate circumstances, in a plot for atsassiuatiog

WnOSt OF OBEAT BRITAm AKD IBSLAm).

M, ninoiic
hwlM if.
tWMH tb«
d »l luch
the Heidi
ktiowlodgo
, unable ur
to gWe an
1 amongst
10, by "ub-
sivoil what
)reach. A
I American
oppniUTO

Idlion took
jlar feeling
the Popiau
nger lynip-
10 oxcluiion
le time wn8
ugpect that
mises about
I moreover,
in that age
■>n ; nor was
meaauro lo
blood rela-
lir faTourito
lUou of tho

t at Oxford,
ro tractable,
dissolve the
; ou the 2 1 St
red that the
minds. The
)o«e, that at
;n as regent,
ve hundi'etl
Bsioii, which
reasonably
a moment,
utterly in-
norally ap-
ow taken a
btive branch
vtion by tho
wn .rithout
ely without
by France,
ih the con-

ES II.

nation, aa
ugainst the
is mood of
lona in the
accept of
ll over the
lover those
jer another
lers of the
Duke of
I Bedford),
J Algernon
Ihe patriot
absolute
^ion in
.' England,
liana, and
lelioration
' an asso-
train of
issiuatiog

tk« kinr (itvM ill* Rje-HouM Plot), of which they
wen perfeotly innocent. By the execution of Rusiell and
Sydney, and some other aereritica, the triumph of the
kinif might be considered oa completed. After having
been an absolute aovereign for nearly four years, he died
(February 0, 16RA), professing himself at the last to be

• Catholic, and wa* wcceoded by the Dukr or Yohk.
Charles II. waa a prince of a gay and cheerful dia-

position, and ao noted a sayer o( witty things, and so
addicted to humoroua amusementa, that he waa called

* the Merry Monarch,' Hia wit, ahrewdneea, and good-
humour, form the beat aide of hia character. On the
other aide, we find a deficiency of alnioat every active
rirtue and of all ateady principle. He never allowed
any duty of hia atation, or any claim upon hia Justice
or clemency, to interfere with his own interests, or even
to disturb him in his indolent and vicioui nleasurea.
Neglecting his wife, who never had any children, ho
spent inSst of his time with hia various mistresses, who
openly lived at court, and were oven received by the
queen. Of these ladies, the most remarkable were
Louisa Querouaile, whom he created Duchsss of Ports-
mouth, and Barbara Villiera, whom he made Ducheaa
of Cleveland. Six aona of the king by his mistresses
were made dukes, and five of these were the progenitors
of families in the English nobility.

During the reign or Charles II., the nation advanced
considerably in the arta of navigation and commerce;
and the manufacturea of braaa, glass, silk, hats, and
paper, were established. The post-office, set up during
the Commonwealth aa a means of raising muney, was
advanced in thin reign, and the penny-post was now-
begun in London bj a private person. Roads were
^atly improved, and stage-coach travelling was com-
menced, though not carried to any great extent. Dur-
ing this reign, tea, coffee, and chocolate, which have
had a great effect in improving and softening manners,
were first introduced. In 1660, the Royal Society was
established in London, for the cultivation of natural
science, mathematics, and all useful knuwledge. The
science of astronomy was greatly advanced by the in-
vestigutions of Flamstcad and Halley. But the greatest
contribution to science was made by Sir lisa^c Newton,
whose Principles of Natural Philosophy were published
in 1683: in this work, the true theory of planetary
motions waa first explained, in reference to the prin-
ciple of gravitation. Amongst the literary men of the
period, the first place is to be asaigned to John Miltnn,
author of the ' Paradiae Lost ' and other poems : Samuel
Butler shines as a humoroua and satirical poet, and
Edmund Waller as a lyrist. Amongst divines, tho
highest names connected with the church are those of
Jeremy Taylor and laaac Barrow; while the highest
among the Nonconformists are those of Richard Baxter
and John Bunyan. The theatre, which had been sup-
pressed during the Commonweuith, waa revived in this
reign ; but the drama exhibited less talent and more
licentiousness than it did in the previous reigns.
Female characters, which had formerly been acted by
men, were now for the first time performed by females.

JAMES II. — EXPEDITION OV HONUOUTH.

Charles II., with all hia faults, had conducted himself
towards his subjects with so much personal cordiality,
and hod so well calculated his ground before making
any aggressions upon popular liberty, ^that he might
probably have pursued his arbitrary career for many
years longer. But his brother James, though much
more respectable as a man, more industrious, and more
sincere, wanted entirely the easiness of carriage, plea-
santry, and penetration, which were the grounds of the
late king's popularity and success. He was, more<jver,
an avowed Catholic, and inspired by an ardent desire
of reforming the iiation back mto that faith. He began
hia reign by declaring before the privy -council his
intention to govern solely by the laws, and to maintain
the existing church; and Bu:h was the confidence in
his sincerity, that he soon became very popular. Ad-
dtesaes pour«d in upon him from all quarters, profess-

ing the most abject devotion to hit person. The Par-
liament called by him voted an ample revenue, and ei-
preaaed the greateat aervility towaroa him in all things.
The doctrinea of passive obedienco, and the divine right
of the aovereiun, were now openly preached. The uni-
versity of Oxford promulgated au elaborate declaration
of passive obedience to rulers, which they declared to
be * clear, absolute, and without any exception of any
state or order of men.'

The remains of the Whig party itill existed, though
in exile, and there were some dfitriots of the country
where they were supposed to have considerable in-
fluence. The Duke of Monmouth and the Earl of
Argyle (the latter of whom had been condemned to
death in Scotland, for adding a qualification to the
test-oath, but had escape<l) met in Holland, and pro-
jected two separate invasions, fur the purpose of expell-
ing King James. The former soon after landed in the
west of England with a small retinue, and quickly found
himself at the hrad of 5000 persons, though irregularly
armed. At several places he caused himseu to be
proclaimed king, which ofifended many of hia principal
adherenta, as inconsistent with his previous engage-
ments. Upon the whole, his conduct was not energetic
enough for the management of such an enterprise.
Beini' attacked by the king's troops near Bridgewater,
his infantry fought with some spirit, but being deserted
by the cavalry, and by the duko himself, were obliged
to give way. Monmouth was taken and executed.
Many of his followers were hanged without form of
trial by the royal troops, and others were afterward!
put to death, with hardly any more formality, by the
celebrated Chief-Justice JefTeries, whom the king lent
down with a commission to try the ofifendera. The
butchery of aeveral hundred men of low condition, who
were unable of the<ubv>e8 to do any harm to the
government, waa looked upon as a moat unjustifiable
piece of cruelty, even if it nad been legally done; and
the principal blame was popularly ascrilied to the king.
The Earl of Argyle sailed in May with a correspond-
ing expedition, and landed in that part of the West
Highlands which owned his authority. Unfor --.iiely
for him, the government hod received warning, and
seized all the gentlemen of hia clan upon whom he
had chiefly depended. He nevertheless raised ttetween
2000 and 3000 men, and made a timid advance to
Glasgow, in the expectation of being joined by the
persecuted Presbyterians of that part of tho country.
Being surrounded on the march by various parties of
troops, he dispersed his army, and sought to escape in
disguise, but.was taken, brought to Edinburgh, and exe-
cuted. Thus terminated the last effort made by the Whig
party to ameliorate the despotic sway of the Stuarts.

ARBITRARr MEASURES OF THE KINO.

Encouraged by his successes, James conceived that
he might safely begin the process of changing the es-
tablished religion of tho country. On the plea of his
supremacy over the church, he took the liberty of dis-
pensing with the test-o-^th in favour of some Catholic
officers, and thus broke an act which was looked upon,
under existing circumstances, as the chief safeguam of
the Protestant faith. His Parliament, servile as iij waa
in temporal matters, took the alarm at this spiritual
danger, and gave the king so effectual a resistance that
he resorted to a dissolution. Transactiona precisely
aimilar took place in Scotland.

Heedless of these symptoms, he proclaimed a uni-
versal toleration, for the purpose of relieving the Ca-
tholics, and thus assumed the unconstitutional right of
dispensing with acts of Parliament. The nation was
thrown by this measure, and by the numerous promo-
tions of Roman Catholics, into a state of great alarm;
even the clergy, who had been so eager to preach an
implicit obedience to the royal will, began to see that
it might be productive of much danger. Wheu James
commanded that his proclamation of toleration should
be read in every pulpit in the country, onJy two hun-
dred tff the «lorgy obeyed. Six of the bioflops joined

oHAiniBn ivFOkVAVicnr vob tbi nopiA

in ft iMiMotful Mtltion •fe>iiM» tk« «fd«r| M^ ktoj
(IwdMtd iiu* doeunMnl to b« » ••dllioM UW, wi
thraw ih« petlUonm Into tb« Tow. In Juno 1«88,
»h«y WON trioti In WottmlnM»f H»ll, »nil io tho Infl-
DiUjoyof»»ion»»lon,ftoqttUtod.

Bllndod by roliriout Mil. »ho kinfc proooodod on hit
ffttJ oouno. In AetUMot of tho l»w, ho hold onon In-
toraoano with tho Hopo, for the roitorotion of U"***"*
to tho boMm of tho Romwh church. Ho oallod Cft-
tholio lord* to tho pri»r.oounril, ond ovon jilocod loino
in tho mbinot. Chftpola, bjr hit iiiitigfttlon, woro ovory-
whoro built, »nd monHo nnd prtoiti wont oponly ftbout
kio polooo. A oourt of high oommiNion— » cruol in-
■trnmont of power undor Ohftrloo I.— wm oroctod, and
bofoN tUo oTOijr doricftl ponon who gftTO any offonoo
to tho kinf WM MirtinoneJ. He alto oxoitod groat in-
dinationToy Tiolimtly thruitlng a Catholio upon Mac-
daion CoUogo, at Oxford, lui iti hoad, and oxpoUing tho
monibon for thoir rotiitanco to hit will. Publin fool-
ing wa* wound to tho highest pitch of exoitomont by
the queen being delifored (.lune 10, I68B) of a ton,
who might be expected to per])«tuate the Catholio re-
ligion in the country, and ivhoru many eren went the
length of tuipeoting to be a tuppotitltioui child, brought
forward tololy for that purpoie.

The dltaffeotion produced by thoio eikCiimitanoei ox-
tended to OTory clati of the king't fubjccti, except the
miall body of Roman Catholic*, many of whom could
not help regardiug the royal meaturet at imprudent.
The Torie* were enraged at tho ruiu thruattined to the
church of England, which they regarded as the grand
■upport of conterratire principlet in the ompire. The
\Vnigt, who had already made many strenuoui effortt
to exclude or expel tho king, were now more inflamed
againit him than ever. The clergy, a popular and in-
fluential bodv, were indignant at the injuries inflicted
upon their church; and even the dittenters, though
oompiehended in the general toleration, taw too clearly
through its motive, and were too well oonrinced of the
illegality of itt manner, and of the danger of its object,
M affecting the Protestant faith, to be exempted from
the general tentiment. But for the birth of the Prince
of Walet, the people at large might haTo been contented
to wait for the relief which was to bo expected, alter
the death of the king, from the succettion of the Princess
of Orange, who was a Protestant, and united to the
chief military defender of that interest in Europe.
But this hope was now shut out, and it was necessary
to resolre upon tome decisive meaturei for the safety of
the national religion.

THE REVOLUVIOV.

In thii crisis, tome of thr principal n(4)ility and
gantry, with a few clergymen, united in a lecret aiddreit
to the Prince of Orange, calling upon him to come over
with an armed force, and aid them in protecting their
faith and libertiei. This prince, who feared that Eng-
land would toon be joined to Franco against the few
remaining Protestant powers, and also that his prospects
of the succession in that country, as nephew and son-in-
law of the king,* were endangered, listened readily to
thii call, and immediately collected a large fleet and
army, comprising many individuals, natives of both
Scotland and England, who had fled from the levere
government of the Stuart princes. The preparationi
for the expedition were conducted with great secrecy,
and James was partly blinded to tkem, by a rumour
that their only object was to frighten him into a closer
connectian with France, in order to make him odious to
hi* subjects. When he waa at length assured by his
ininiiit<!r in Holland that he might immediately expect
a formidable iuvaaiou, he grew pale, and dropped the
letter from his haudt. He immediately ordered a fleet
and large army to hi collected, and, that he might re-
gain the afl^ctiont of his subjects, he called a parlia-

* The motber of the prlnoe wh Maiy Btuart, eldest daughter
of Chorlw I., and (Jster of James II. Ftiling the infant Prinoe
of Walt*, his own wife, and the Prinaea Anno, the two daughters
of the king, he was the heir of the British orown.
162

nwnt, and undid many of hii lata mMUttTM. Tlia
paople jttttiy Mitpeotad liia oonoatiient to b« Iniincere,
and wan oouflnned In thair belief, whan, on a mniour
of tha Prinoa of Otanga baina put baek by a itorro, ha
reoaliad tka write for aMambliug Parliament.

On tha lOtli of Octobar, the Prinoa of Orange tat
S4il with AO ihip* of war, 9.5 fi-igataa, '2S flra-thint, and
.100 trantoortt, containing lA.OOO land troop*. A storm
oeeaaioned soma damage and delay) but na soon put
to tea again, and prooaadad with a fair wind along tha
Britith Channel, cxnibiting fW>n hit awn vatial a flag,
on which wara intcribad Uia word*. * Tua Fiiotb«t*nv
Rklioion and thb LiBBRTint or Enolanu,' with tha
appetite motto of hit family, ' J0 Mainlitmbiii ' — ' I will
maintain.' At he patted between Dover and Calait,
hi* aimainant wa* viaibla to crowd* of speutator* on
both thor?*, whose feelings wara Kuch excited at once
bv itt appearance and it* well-known purpote. Tha
English fleet being detained at Harwich by the lam*
wind which waa to favourable to tha prince, he landed
(Novambar5) without opputition atTorbay, and iroroa-
diataly prooaadrd to oiroulata a manitVsto, declaring tha
grievance* of the kingdom, and promising, with the sup-
port of tha naopla, to redress them.

At the nnt there <oemed some reason to fear that
the princo would not meet with adequate support. On
his mi\rch to Exeter, and for eight days after arriving
there, he wa* not joined by any i>enon of consequence.
The nation, however, toon became alive to the neoei-
tity of giving him anoouraffoment. The gentry of Devon
and 8omertatahire* formed an atsociation in nit behalf.
The Earls of Bedford and Abingdon, with other persons
of distinction, repaired to hi* quarter* at Exoter. Lord
Delamere took arms in Cheshire; the city of York wa*
■eized by the Earl of Danbv ; the Earl of Bath, gover-
nor of Plymouth, declared for the prince; and the Earl
of Devonshire mode a like declaration in Derby. Every
day discovered some new instance of that general con-
feiloracy into which the nation had entered against the
measures of the king. But the roost dangerous symp-
tom, and tl' -: which rendered his aflbir* desperate, was
the spirit vtutch he found to prevail in his army. On
his advancing at its head to Salisbury, he learned that
some of the principal offlcer* had gone over to the Princo
of Orange. Lord Churchill (afterward* famous as Duke
of Marlborough), Lord Trelawnov, and the king's lon-in-
law, Oeorge, Prince of Denmark, successively followed
tbi* example. Even hi* daughter, the Princes* Auriie, de-
eerted him. In great perplexity, he lummoned a council
of peers, by whose advice writt were itcued for a new
Parliament, and committioner* detpatched to treat with
the prince. A kind of infatuation now took pottetsion
of the king ; and having tent the queen and infant prince
privately to France, he quitted the capital at midnight,
alroott unattended, for the purpote of following them,
leaving orders to recall the writs and disband the army.
By this procedure, the peace of the country wh« immi-
nently endangered ; but it only served to hasten tho
complete triumph of tha Prince of Orange, who hod
now advanced to Windsor. The tupreiue authority
seemed on the point of falling into hi* hands, when, to
his groat disappointment, the king, having been disco-
vered at Feversham, in Kent, wo* brought back to
London, not without some mark* of popular sympathy
and aflfection. There wai no alternative but to request
the unfortunate monarch to retire to a country-house,
where he might await the settlement of affairs. James,
finding hit palaces taken pottetsion of by Dutch guards,
and dreading assassination, took the opportunity to
renew hit attempt to leave the kingdom. He proceeded
on board a vessel in tho Medway, »nd after tome ob-
structions, arrived safely in France, where Louis readily
afforded him an atylura.

The tame day that the king lefl Whitehall for tho
laat time, hi* nephew and son-in-law arrived at St
James's. The public bodies immediately waited on him,
to express their zeal for his c^ute ; and such of the
members of tha late Parliament* a* happened to be in
town, hftying met by big inyitation, lequaatad him tu

tnSTORT OP ORBAT BBITAIK AND tBlStAND.

iirite* write for % eonTention, in order to Mttle tho na-
tion. II* wai in tho lama manner, anil for tiia lanio
purpoflc, T«qu«rt«<l to call a conrention in Hcotland.
Tb« Kngllili coiiTintion ni«t on the '/Jd of January
10U9, and during itt debatoi the prince maintained a
maf[naiiimoui lilence and neutralitv. The Tory party,
though it had Joined in calling him oyer, illiplayed
■oroe Kruplet luepecting tli« alteration of the luccei-
•ion, and teeme<l at first inclined to lettle th« crown on
the princeu, whllu William ihuiild hare only the office
of regent; but when thii wai montioneil to the prince,
he calmly replied, that in that ovrnt, he ihould imme-
diately return to Holland, A bill wm th«n paiied,
declaring that ' Jamei II,, having emlrarourod to nub-
rert the conititution, by breaking thu original conh-acl
between the king and iwnple, and liavlng withdiawn
himielf from the kingciom, has abdicated the goveni-
ment; and that the throne if themby become vacant.'
To thr btll wai added what wae called a Utelaratim of
Eiyhtt — namely, nu enumeration of the varioui lavre by
which the royal prerogative and the popular libortiei
had formerly been Mttled, but which had been violated
and evaded by the Stuart lovorelgni. William and
Mary, having expreiied their willingnen to ratify this
declaration, were proclaimed king and queen jointly —
the administration to rent in William; and the eon-
Tention was then converted into a Parliament.

In Scotland, where the Presbyterians had resumed
an ascendancy, the convention came to a less timid
decision. It declared that JameR, by thp abuse of his
power, had for/tiled all right, to the crown — a decision
also aft'ecting his posterity ; and William and Mary
were imnie<liately after proclaimed. By a bill passed
iu the English Parliament, the succession was settled
upon the survivor of the oxisting royal pair; next upon
the Princeu Anne and her children ; and finally, upon
the children of William by any other consort — an
arrangement in which no hereditary principle was
overlooked, except that which would have given a pre-
ference to James and his infunt son.

Bt the Revolution, as this great event was styled, it
might be considered us finally decided that the mo-
narchy was not a divine institution, superior to human
challenge, as the late kings had represented it, but one
dependent on the people, and established and main-
tamed for their benefit. Many a^dvantages, of smaller
iraportanod, though of more direct and practical utility,
resulted from tne change. The Episcopal church,
which in Scotland had occasioned incessant discontent
and disturbance for the last twenty-eight years, was
abolished in that kingdom, and the favourite Presby-
terian formn were established, to thi> almost universal
■atisfaction of the nation. By an act passed in the
English Parliament, the disseniers from the church in
Encland were freed from the severities to which they
had been exposed durins the last two reigns. The
royal revenue, which had formerly been fixed at the
beginning of each reign, was now settled annually by
the Houso of Commons, so that the king was more
under the control of his people than formerly. The
independence and impartiality of the judges were now
secured by their boing appointed for life, or during
good behaviour, instead of being removable at the
royal pleasure as heretofore. William is suid to have
wished to grant some further concessions in favour of
the Dissenters, but was prevented by the powerful oppo>
sition which the Tory party presented in Parliament,

RESISTANCE IN SCOTLAND AND IRELAND.

The new government was at first extremely popular
in Scotland; but one portion of the people was much
opposed to it. This consisted of the Ilighlivad clans — a
primitive race, unable to appreciate toe rights which
had been gained, prepossessed in favour of direct here-
ditary succession, and of such warlike habits, that
though a minority, they were able to give no small
trouble to the peaceful Lowlanders. When the Scot-
tish convention was about to settle the crown on Wil-
liam aud Mary, Viioouut Dundee, formerly Graham of

Clavc.house, ami celebrated for htf wrerity upon th«
rwousaiit Presbyterians, raised an insurrection in the
Highlands in favour uf King James, while the Duke of
(lordon, a Catholic, still held out Kdinl>iir|!ii Castle in
the sume interest. It was with no small ditAoultv that
the new government could obtain the menns of reducing
these opponents. The castle, nftor a protracted siege,
was given up In .fune (UiltO). (leneral Markay waa
despatched by Willium, with a few troops, to Join with
such forces as he could obtain in .Scotland, and endea-
vour to suppress the insurrection in the Higlilands,
He encountered Dundee at Killiecrankie (July 27), and,
though his troops were greatly superior in number and
discipline, experienced a complete defeat. Dundee,
however, fell by a inuskot-shot in the moment of victory,
and his army was unable to follow up its advantage.
In a short time the Highland clans wore induced to
yield a nominal obedience to William and Mary.

In Ireland, a much more formidable resistance waa
offered to the revolution settlement. S'nce the acces-
sion of James, tl\e liomish faith might be described M
virtually predoniinant in that kinedor.<. The laws
against Cathollct had been suspended uy the royal
authority, all puulic offices were f'led by them, and
though the estaulished clergy were not deprived of their
bcr.rnces, very little tithe was paii'. to them. The vice-
regal office was held by tiie Earl ut fyrconnel, a violent
and ambitious youn^ man, disp 'd to secor ' he king
in all hii imprudent measures, and resol' >', in the
event of their failing, to throw the count ato the
hands of the French, The people at larg ' t^ g chiefly
Catholics, were warmly attached to the \ t'.' sovereign,
whose cause they regarded as " 'ir own.

Early in the spring of 160 , j -, .es proceeded fVcm
France to Ireland, where he v as soi --> at the head of a
lar^e though ill-disciplined ..rmv. He immediately
ratified on act of the Irish Parliament for annulling
that settlement of the Protestants upon the lands of
Catholics, which hod taken place in the time of Crom-
well, and another for attainting 2000 persons of the
Protestant faith. The Protestants, finding themselves
thus Kiispossessed of what they considered their pro-
perty, and exposed to the ven(, anco of a majority over
whom they had long ruled, fled to Londonderry, Innis-
killen, and other ^rtified towns, where they made a
desperate resistance, in the hope of being speedily suc-
coured by King William. That sovereign now led over
a large army to Ireland, and (July 1) attacked the
native forces under his father-in-law nt the fords of
the river Boyne, near the village of Dunore, where hi-
gained a complete victory.

James war o^dlessly dispirited by this disaster, nnd
lost no time " ai ng again to France, In reality, tho
Irish made a '.^ ; iV' appearance, and fought more vigor-
ously, after the battle of the Boyne than before it. The
Duke of Berwick, a natural son of James, and the EaW
of Tvrconncl, still kept the field with a large body of
cavalry^ .ud the infantry wei-e in the meantime effec-
tually protected in the town of Limerick. William
invrstb'l this town, and in one as-^ult upon it lost
JOOO men, which so disheartened him, that he went
back to England, leaving his officers to prosecute the
war. The Irish army afterwards fought a regular battle
at Aghrim, when, partly owing to the loss of their brave
leader, St Ruth, they were totally routed. The remains
of the Catholic forces took refuge in Limerick, where
they finally submitted in terms of a treaty which seemed
to secure the Catholic population in all desirable right*
and privileges. It was agreed that they should receive
a general pardon; that their estates should be re-
stored, their attainders annulled, and their outlawries
reversed; that Roman Catholics should enjoy the same
toleration as in the days of Charles II., and not be dis-
turbed in the exercise of their religion; that they should
be restored to all the privileges of subjects, on simply
sweariiig allegiance to the king and queen; and that
such as chose to follow the fortunes of James (of whom
there was a vast number), should be conveyed to che
continent at tho expenw of goremmeut.

153

OHAMBEBS'S WfOSUAXtOS VOR THS PSOPLl!.

• King Williun, whoM dlipotition wss tolerant, pro-
miied to procure a ratification of thii treaty by Par-
liament, but he \ru thwarted in hia design. An act
wai pamed in England making it necegsary for all
member* of the Iruh Parliament, and all persons fill-
ing ciTil, military, and ecclesiastical offices in Ireland,
to take an oath abjuring the most important doctrines
of the Catholic faith. After this had taken effect, in
the filling of the Irish Parliament with Protestants, an
act was passed by that assembly, professing to be a.
confirmation of the treaty of Limerick, but in reality
putting the Catholics into a worse condition than before.

KEION OF WILLIAM III.

Though all military opposition was thus orercome,
William soon found difficulties of another kind in the
management of the state. The Tories, though glad to
save the established church by calling in his interfer-
ence, had submitted with no good grace to the necessity
of making him king; and no sooner was the danger
p5st, than their usual principles of hereditary right
were in a great measure revived. From the name of
the exiled monarch, they now began to be known by
the appellation of Jaeobites. James's hopes of a resto-
ration were thus for a long time kept alive, and the
peace of William's mind was so much imbittered, as
to make his sovereignty appear a dear purchase. Per-
haps the only circumstance which reconciled the king
to his situation, was the great additional force he could
now bring against the ambitious designs of Louis XIV.
Almost from his accession he entered heartily into the
combination of European powers for checking this war-
like prince, nnd conducted military operations against
him every summer in person. The necessity of having
supplies for that purpose rendered him unfit, even if
he had been willing, to resist any liberal measures pro-
posed to him in Parliament, and hence his passing of
the famous Triennial Act in 1694, by which it was ap-
pointed that a new Parliament should be called every
third year. In this year died Queen Mary, without
offspring; after which William r?igned as sole monarch.

VVhile William was treated iix England with less
than justice, he lost all his popuU.rity in Scotland, in
consequence of two separate acti, characterised by
great cruelty <ind injustice. An of lex had been issued,
crmmandiug all the Highland chif.fs, under pain of fire
and sword, to give in their subni ission before the la:;t
day of the year 1691. One individual — MacJonald of
Qlencoe — was prevented by accident from observing
the day, and letters of firu and sword, signed by the
king, were accordingly issued against him. The mili-
tary party intrusted with this duty, instead of boldly
advancing to the task, canie among the clan as friends,
partook of their hospitality and an-vusements, and never
indicated their intentions till tbj morning of the 13th
of February (1692), when they ettacked the unsuspect-
ing people in their beds, and n: orcilessly slew all that
came in their way. Thirty-eight persons, including the
chief and his wife, were slaughtered, and many others
died in the snow, as they vainly tried to escape. A
more atrocious action does not stain modem history,
though the barbarous circumstances of the slaughtbr
were more owing to feelings of private revenge on the
part of some of the officials of govemiuent in Scotland,
than to the intentions of William.

Two or three years after, the Scottish people began
to turn their attention to commerce, by which they saw
great advantages gained by neighbouring states, and
they planned a colony on the Isthmus of Darien, which
thcT thought might become >>.:> emporium for American
and Indian produce. They subscribed am mg them-
selves for this purpose no less than £400,000; to which
was added more tliau as much again by merchants in
London and Holland. The jeclousy of other trading
companies, and the remonstrances of the Spaniards, who
apprehended some interference with their colonics, in-
duced the king to withdraw his countenance from the
ichemc, after he had sanctioned it by act of Parliament;
but, nevertheleu (IG98), a gallant expedition WM *euC

out by the Scots, who founded a town called New Gdin*
burgh, about midway between Portobello and Cartha-
gena, tnd under the ninth degree of latitude. During
the winter months, everything seemed likely to answer
the expectations of the colonists; but summer brought
disease, and on their provisions running low, they found,
to their infinite consternation, that they could get no
supplies, the Spanish and British colonists of the neigh-
bouring countries being forbidden to deal with them.
In May and September 1699, ere intelligence of these
circum8t.u<ces could reach home, two other expeditions
had sailed, containing 1800 men, who were involved on
their arrival in the same disasters. After disease had
swept off many hundreds, the remainder were attacked
by the Spaniards, who pretended a right to the country;
and to these haughty enemies, who were countenanced
in their proceedings by the British sovereign, the un-
fortunate colony was obliged to 8ui-»ender. Very few
ever regained their native country, ai 1 the large sums
vested in the undertaking were irrecoverably lost. The
massacre of Olencoc, and the Darien expedition, ex-
cited feelings of the most intense bitterness against the
king in the breasts of the Scottish nation, among whom
the Jacobite party thenceforward began to assume a
formidable appearance.

The peace of Ryswick, concluded in 1697, by which
the French power was confined to due limits, permitted
William to spend the concluding years of his rei^ in
pace. In 1700, in consideration that he and his sister-
in-law Anne had no children, the famous Act of Suc-
cession was passed, by which the crown, failing these
two individuals, was settled upon the next Protestant
heir, Sophia, Duchess of Hanover, daughter of Eliza-
beth, the eldest daughter of James I.

About this time the causes of a new war took their
rise in certain disputes respecting the succession to the
crown of Spain. The title to that sovereignty, in the
event of the death of the existing king without heirs,
was claimed by the king of France, the elector of
Bavaria, and the emperor of Germany, through various
female lines of descent. A treaty, to which England
was a party, was entered into for preventing the whole
from falling inl.0 the hands of the reigning family of
France, whose possessions would then have been so
great as to be inconsistent, it was thought, with the in-
dependence and safety of the neighbouring states. At
the death of the king of Spain, a will was produced, in
which it appeared tliat he had appointed the Duke of
Anjou, second son of the dauphin, to be his successor.
The French king lost no time in enforcing the preten-
sions of his grandson, who, under the title of Philip V.,
became the founder of the Bourbon dynasty in Spain.

About the same time (September 1701) James, the
exiled English king, died at St Oermains, leaving his
pretensions to his son, James, Prince of Wale", now a
boy of thirteen years of age, and henceforth generally
recognised in Britain by the epithet of the Pretender,
Without regard to l,he treaty of Ryswick, liouis XIV.
acknowie<lged this young person as James III., King of
Great Britain, by which ho added greatly to the hostile
feeling which his other proceedings had already created
in the British king and people. A war was accordingly
in preparation, wlien King William died (March '2,
1702), in consequence of a fall from his horse.

William was a prince of commanding ability, parti-
cularly in military affairs. His ruling sentiment was
a wish to reduce the power of the king of France, which
he was able in no small degree to effect. His person
was thin and f<>eble, and his ordinary demeanour was
reputed cold, silent, and somewhat repulsive. It was
only in battle that he ever became animated or easr.
He was a conscientious man, of sober and even kindly
domestic habits, and sincerely attached to toleration in
religion. But for the questionable act of expelling his
uncle and father-in-law from the throne, and his con-
cern in the affairs of Olcncoe and Darien, no serious
blot of any kind would have rested upon his mnae,
cither as a public or private person.

The reigu of King William is rcmatkablo for thq

mSTORt OF GBEAf BW!tAJS( A^ IBELAim.

New Edin*
ad Cartha-
e. During
f to answer
ler brought
they found,
uld get no
' the neigh-
with them,
ice of these
expeditions
involyed on
disease had
ire attacked
he country;
untenanced
gn, the un-
Very few
large sums
Y lost. The
edition, ex-
against the
mong whom

assume a

7, by which

8, permitted
his rei^ in
id his sister-
Act of Suc-
ailing these

1 Protestant
•r of Eliza-

,r took their
cBsion to the
gnty, in the
ithout heirs,
B elector of
}ugh various
ich England
ig the whole
ig family of
jve been so
Iwith the in-
states. At
iroduced, in
;he Duke of
lis successor,
the preten-
\{ Philip v.,

in Spain.

I James, the

lleaving his

Tale", now a

|h generally

Pretender.

[iouis XIV.

II., King of

the hostile

ly created

cordingly

(March i,

le.

f lity, parti-
timent was
knee, which
I His person
lanour was
le. It woa
, or easr.
hren kindly
lleration in
polling hit
Id his con-
no leriout
Ihii name,

[le for tliQ

first legal support of a standing army, and for the com-
mencement of the national debt. It is also distin-
guished by the first establishment of regular banks for
the deposit of money, and the issue of a paper cur-
rency. Formerly, the business of banking, as far as
necessary, was transacted by goldsmiths, or through
the medium of the public Exchequer, by which plans
the public was not sufficiently insured against loss.
In 1695, the first public establishment for the purpose,
the Bank «f England, was established by one William
Paterson, a scheming Scotsman ; and next year the
Bank of Scotland was set on foot by one Holland, an
English merchant. The capital in the former case
being only £L,200i€00, and iu the latter tho tenth part
of that sura.

In the reign of King William flourished Sir William
Temple, an eminent political and philosophical writer,
to whom is usually assigned the honour of first com-
posing the English language in the fluent and measured
manner which afterwards became general. The most
profound philosophical writer of the ago was John
Locke, author of an Essay on the Human Understand-
ing, an Essay on Toleration, and other works. Bishop
Tillotson stands hi^h as a w.iver of elegant sermons.
The greatest name m polite literature is that of John
Dryden, remarkable for hin energetic style of poetry,
and his translations of Virgil and Juvenal.

QUEEN ANNE — MARLBOBOUGH'S CAMPAIGNS.

William was succeeded by his sister-in-law, Anne,
second daughter of the late James II.; a princess now
thirty-eight years of age, and chiefly remarkable for
her zealous attachment to the church of England. The
movement against the king of France had not been
confined to Great Britain; it was a combination of that
power with the emperor of Germany and the states of
Holland. Queen Anne found it necessary to maintain
her place in the Grand Alliance, as it was termed; and
the Duke of Marlborough was sent over to the conti-
nent with a large army to prosecute the war in con-
junction with the allies. Now commenced that career
of military glory which has rendered the reign of Anne
and tho name of Marlborough so famous. In Germany
and Flanders, under this commander, the British army
gained some signal successes, particularly those of
Blenheim and Kamillies; in Spa.n, a smaller army,
under the chivalrously brave Earl of Peterborough,
performed other services of an important kind. The
war, however, was one in which Britain had no real
interest — for it has been seen that Spain has continued
undor a branch of the House of Bourbon without
greatly endangering other states.

A party, consisting chiefly of Tories, endeavoured,
in 1706, to put an end to the war; and France was so
much reduced in strength, as to concede all the objects
for which the contest had been commenced. But the
people were so strongly inspired with a desire of humi-
liating Fiance, which in commerce and religion they
considered their natural enemy, that some ambitious
statesmen of a contrary line of politics were enabled
to mar the design of a treaty. Among these was the
Duke of Marlborough, who, being permitted to profit
not only by his pay, but by perquisites attached to his
command, wished the war to be protracted, merely
that he might make his enormous wealth a little
greater. It was in consequence of these unnecessary
interferences with continental politics, urged chiefly by
the people, and by a class of statesmen popular at the
time, that the first largo sums of the national debt
were contracted.

union of ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND.

Sinco their religious enthusiasm had been laid at
rest by the Revolution Settlement, the Scottish people
had been chiefly animated by a desire of participating
in tho commerce of England. The treatment of their
expedition to Darien had now inspired them with a
bitter feelinc against their southern neighbours, and
they rcsolTed to show their power of couuter-annoyance

by holdmg up threats of dissenting from England in the
matter of the succession. In 1703, their Parliament
passed the famous Act of Security, by which it was
ordained that the successor of her majesty in Scotland
should not be the same with the individual adopted by
the English Parliament, unless there should be a free
commimication of trade between the countries, and the
aflikirs of Scotland thoroughly secured from English
influence. Another act was at the same time passed
for putting the nation under arms. The English minis-
ters then saw that an incorporating union would be
necessary to prevent the Pretender from gaining the
Scottish crown, and to protect England from the attacks
of a hostile nation. For this purpose they exerted
themselves so eflectually in the Scottibh Parliament, as
to obtain an act, enabling the queen to nominate com-
missioners for the arrangement of a union. The men
appointed, thirty on each side, were, with hardly an
exception, the friends of the court and of the Revolu-
tion Settlement; and the treaty accordingly was drawn
up without difficulty.

In October 1706, this document was submitted to the-
Scottish Parliament, and was found to contain the fol-
lowing principal points: — That the two nations were to
be iudissolubly united under one government and legis-
lature, each, however, retaining its own civil and cri-
minal law; the crown to be in the House of Hanover;
the Scottish Presbyterian church to be guaranteed;
forty-five members to be sent by the Scottish counties
and burghs to the House of Commons, and sixteen
elective peers to be sent to the Upper House by the
nobles; the taxes to be equalised, but, in consideration
of the elevation of the Scotch imposts to the level of tho
English (for the latter people already owed sixteen
millions), an equivalent was to be given to Scotland,
amounting to nearly four hundred thousand pounds,
which was to aid in renewing the coin, and otiier ob-
jects. These terms were regarded in Scotland as mise-
rably inadequate; and the very idea of the loss of an
independent legislature and a place among govern-
ments, raised their utmost indignation. Nevertheless,
by dint of bribery, the union was carried through Par-
liament; and from the 1st of May 1707, the two coun-
tries formed one state, under the title of the Kingdom
of Great Britain.

HIGH CUURCU ENTHUSIASM.

Since the Revolution, the Whigs might bo considered
as the predominant party in England. They almost
exclusively constituted the ministries, and a large ma-
jority in the Parliaments, of King William. The sen-
timents of the queen were of a different cast from
theirs. She disrespected the Revolution Settlement,
by which she reipned; and was more zealously attached
than they to the church of England, in all its doctrines,
practices, and privileges. As the remembrance of the
errors of King James faded from the public recollection,
or were put out of view by more recent grievances, the
people began to partake more generally of the Tory
spirit. The Parliament which they returned at the
beginning of the new reign, contained a much larger
admixture of that party than the former one. Tlie
Tory feeling of both people and Parliament chiefly took
the direction of a strong attachment to the church of
England, which they wished to maintain in uncompro-
mising supremacy, and in all its privileges; while tho
Whig party, in general, were favourable to the toleration
called for by the dissenters. The distinction of High
Church and Low Church now became conspicuous, the
one phrase implying the ecclesiastical views of the
Tories, while the other referred to those of the Whigs.
In this Parliament the House of Commons passed a
bill against occasional conformiti/, by which penalties
were imposed on all persons in office who should attend
dissenting places of worship; but it was thrown out by
tho Upper House, in which tho bishops created by
William voted against it.

An imprudent act of the ministry raiser' he High
Church enthusiasm to an extraordinary ight. A

15:)

(JHAllBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOFLB.

divine of inferior note, named Heniy Sachr irell, had
preached a violent sermon, in which he eeemed to call
upon the people to take up arm* in defence of their
endangered church. The ministers were so weak as
to give this man a solemn -,rial,dunng which the people
rose so tumultuously in his favour, that, though de-
clared guilty, it was found impossible to inflict uyon
him more than a nominal punishment. After the trial,
he received more marks of public reverence and honour
than were ever bestowed on the greatest national bene-
factor. In proportion to the popularity of Dr Sache-
verell' was toe loss of public favour experienced by the
Whig' party. About the same time, through some court
intrigues, they forfeited all remaining favour with their
royrl mistress. Mrs Masham, a lady of the court, and
fkvourite of the queen, had contrived to introduce into
the cabinet two Tory statesmen, Mr Robert Harley,
afterwards Earl of Oxford, and Mr Henry St John,
afterwards Lord Bolingbroke, These gentlemen hav-
ing attempted to set up a party for themselves, their
superior, Lord Oodolphin, dismissed them, to the great
displeasure of Queen Anne, who now resolved to get
quit of the Whig party at the first opportunity. In
August 1710, Harley and St John came into power, at
the head of a decidedly Tory ministry, which, though
of brief duration, was destined to make an important
figure in the national history. The queen at the same
time called a new Parliament, whinh proved to be almost
wholly composed of the Tory party.

PEACE OF UTRECHT — DEATH OF QUEEN ANNE.

The members of the new cabinet immediately applied
themselves, though very secretly, to the business of
bringing about a peace. When their plans were ma-
tured, the consent of the House of Commons was easily
g.v:ied; but the Lords having shown some reluctance,
it Was found necessary to create twelve new peers, in
order to overpower the sense of that part of the legis-
lature. After a tedious course of negotiation, Britain
and Holland concluded a peace at Utrecht (1713),
leaving the emperor of Germany still at war. By this
arrangement, Philip V. was permitted to retain Spain
and the Indies, but no other part of the dominions
which his ambitious grandfatbor had endeavoured to
secure for him; and it was provided that he and his
descendants should never inherit the kingdom of France,
nor any future king of France accede to the crown of
Spain. Britain obtained nothing tangible by all her
exertions, except the possession of Gibraltar and Mi-
norca, and the privilege of being exclusively employed
to carry slaves to the Spanish American colonies. It
has jufitly been considered a stain upon the nation, that
it should have concluded a separate peace under such
clandestine circumstances, nii the interests of the other
Itelligerent parties were thereby greatly injured. For
the gratification of their High Church supporters, the
ministers obtained an act for preventing dissenters froia
keeping schools, and another for establishing church
patronage in Scotland, the former of which was repealed
in the following reign.

It is believed that Queen Anne and her Tory in .lis-
ters were in secret willing to promote the restoration
of the main line of the Stuart family, and Harley and
St .lohn arc now known to have intrigued for that pur-
pose. But before any plan could be formed, the queen
took suddenly ill and died (August 1, 1714), when the
ministers had no alternative but to proceed according
to the Act of Settlement. The Electress Sophia being
recently dead, her son, the elector, was proclaimed
under the title of Georub I.

The reign of Queen Anne is not more distinguished
by the wonderful series of victories gained by Marl-
borough, than by the brilliant list of literary men who
now flourished, and who have caused this to be styled
the Augus'an age of English literature, as resembling
that of the Roman Emperor Augustus. Alexander
Pope stands unrivalled in polished verse on moral sub-
jects. Jonathan Swift is a miscellaneous writer of
•iiigular rigour and an extraordiuary kind of humour.
16Q

Joseph Addison wrote on familiar life and ou moril
and critical subjects with a degree of elegance before
unknown. Sir Richard Steele was a lively writer of
miscellaneous essays. This last author, with assistance
from Addison and others, set on foot the ' Tatler,' * Spec-
tator,' and ' Guardian,' the earliest examples of small
periodical papers in England, and which continue to
this day to be regarded as standard works. Gibber,
Congreve, Vanburgh, and Farquhar, were distinguished
writers of comedy; and Prior, Philips, and Rowe, were
pleasing poets. In graver literature, this age is not
less eminent. Dr Berkeley shines as a metaphysician ;
Drs Sherlock, Atterbury, and Clark as divmes; and
Bentley as a critic of the Roman classics.

ACCESSION OF THE HOUSE OF HANOVER — REBELLION OF

1715-16.

The new sovereign lost no time in coming jver to
Britain, and fixing himself in that heritage which his
family has ever since retained. He was fifty-four yearr
of age, of a good, though not brilliant understanding,
and very firm in his principles. Knowing well that the
Whigs were his only true friends, he at once called
them into the administration. It was the custom of
that period for every party, on getting into power, to
tiy to annihilate their opponents. Not only were the
whole Tory party insulted by the king, but a committee
of the House of Commons was appointed to prepare
articles of impeachment against Oxford, Bolingbroke,
the Duke of Ormond, and the Earl of Strafibrd.
Bolingbroke, perceiving his life to be in danger, fled to
the continent ; and his attainder was in consequence
moved and carried by his rival Walpole. Ormond suf-
fered a similar fate. Oxford, after a protmcted trial,
was only saved in consequence of a difierence between
the Lords and Commons.

During the first year of King George, the Tories kept
up very threatening popular disturbances in favour of
High Church principles ; but the Whigs, gaining a
majority in the new House of Commons, were able to
check this a little by the celebrated enactment called
the Eiot Act, which permits military force to be used in
dispersing a crowd, after a certain space of time has
been allowed. Disappointed in their hopes of office and
power, and stung by the treatment of their leaders, the
Tories resolved to attempt bringing in the Pretender
by force of arms. With an eager hopefulness, which
for a long time was characteristic of the party, they
believed that all England and Scotland were ready to
take up arms for the Pretender, when in reality there
was but a limited portion of the people so inclined, and
that portion unwilling to move if they saw the least
risk or danger. Blind to these circumstances, and with-
out design or concert, they commenced the unfortunate
civil war of 1715.

The Earl of Mar, who had been a secretary of state
in the late administration, raised his standard in Brae-
mar (September 6), without any commission from the
Pretender, and was soon joined by Highland clans to
the amount of 10,000 men, who rendered him roaster
of all Scotland north of the Forth. There, however, he
weakly permitted himself to be cooped up by the Duko
of Argyle, who, with a far less numerous force, had
posted himself at Stirling. Mar expected to be sup-
ported by ail invasion of England by the Duke of
Ormond, and a rising of the ]>eople of that country.
But the duke completely failed in his design, and no
rising took place, except in Northumberland. There
Mr Foster, one of the members of Parliament for the
county, and the Earl of Dor went water, with some other
noblemen, appeared in anns, but unsupported by any
considerable portion of the people. Mar detached a
party of 1800 foot, under Mackintosh of Borlum, to
join the Northumbrian insurgents, who complained
that they had no infantry. The junction was managed
with great address ; and at the same time some noble-
men and gentlemen of the south of Scotland attached
themselves to the southern army. The government
was ill provided with troops ; but it uevorthelesa sent

fflSTORT OP GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

iTV of state
rd in Brae-
>n from the
ad clang to
ira master
owever, he
the Duko
force, had
be sup-
Duke of
country.
^, and no
d. There
int for the
wnie other
ed by any
otached a
iorlum, to
amplained
managed
me noble-
attached
ivernment
leleia sent

such a force agidnst Mr Foster, as obliged him to re-
tire with his men into the town of Preston, in Lanca-
shire, where, after an obstinate defence, the whole
party (November 1 3) surrendered themselves prisoners
at the king's mercy. On the same day, the Earl of
Mar met the Duke of Argyle at Sheriifmuir, near Dura-
blane, where a battle was fought, in which, after the
manner of the battler >n the civil war, the right wing
of each army was successful, but neither altogether
victorious. The duke withd' ew in the face of his
enemy to Stirling, and the eaii retired to Perth, re-
solved to wait for the news of an invasion from France,
and for the arrival of the Pretender, whom he had
invited to Scotland.

Mar did not for some time become aware how little
reason he had to expect support from France. Louis
XIV., upon whom the hopes of the party greatly rested,
had died in September, leaving the government to the
Regent Orleans, who had strong personal reasons for
wishing to cultivate the good-will of the British mo-
narch, and of course declined to assist in the present
enterprise. The Pretender, nevertheless, sailed for
Scotland, and on the 22d of December, arrived incog-
nito at Peterhead, bringing nothing but his own person
to aid his adherents. Mar, who had already attempted
to negotiate a submission to tbo government, brought
him forward to Perth, where ae was amused for some
time with preparations for his coronation. But before
he had been many da^s there, the Duke of Argyle
found himself in a condition to advance against the in-
surgent force; and on the 30th of January 1716, this
unfortunate prince commenced a retreat to the north,
along with his dispirited army. On the 4th of February,
he and the Earl of Mar provid..J for their own safety
by going on board a vessel at Montrose, and setting
sail for France; the army dispersed itself into the
Highlands. For this unhappy appearance in arms, the
Earl of Derwentwater, Viscount Kenmure, and about
twenty inferior persons, were executed ; forty Scottish
families of the first rank lost their estates, and many
excellent members of society became exiles for the
remainder of their lives.

CHARACTER OF THE GOVERNMENT UNDER GEORGE I.

The suppression of this insurrection, and the ruin of
80 many Tory leaders, tended to increase the power of
the Whig party, and the stability of the Hanoverian
dynasty. The government, nevertheless, acted under
considerable. difficulties, as they were opposed by the
majority of the clergy and country gentry, as well as
by the whole of the mob feeling, except in the large
commercial towns. To avoid the hazard of too often
appealing to the people, they carried, in 1716, a bill
for repealing King William's Triennial Act, and pro-
tracting the present and all future Parliaments to a
duration of seven years. The chief popular support of
the government was in the dissenters, and the middle
classes of the community.

From the peace of Utrecht, Britain remained free
from foreign war for nearly thirty years, excepting
that, in 1719, the ministry was called on to interfere
for the repression of nn attempt on the part of Spain
to regain her Italian territories. A Scotsman, named
Law, who had become comptroller-general of France,
and amused that country with financial schemes, which
at first promised to enrich, but finally almost ruined
the country, was the means in 1720 of inspiriting the
British people with a similar visionary project, called
the South Sea Scheme. This might be described as a
joint-stock company, professedly trading in the South
Seas, but chiefly engaged in a scheme for managing
the national debt. It seemed for a time to prosper,
and many realised large fortunes by selling their shares
at a premium to others; but in a short time its un-
soundness was discovered, the price of shares fell, and
thousands were utterly ruined. With great difficulty,
and by an extremely complicated adjustment, the
House of Commons equalised as nearly as possible the
state of gain and loss among the innocent parties, and

credit was restored. Sir Robert Walpole, who wai
chiefly concerned in effectins this arrangement, became
premier and chancellor of ^e Exche(]|uer, and for up-
wards of twenty years from that period (April 1721),
he must be looked on as the prime mover and manager
of the public affairs.

At the beginning of the reign of George I. the na-
tional debt amounted to fifty-three millions, and owing
to there having been no war, it was rather less at the
time of tho king's death. The annual expenditure of
the state was about seven millions, or scarcely a seventh
part of what it now is. The commerce and manufac-
tures of England continued to advance steadily during
this reign; but Scotland and Ireland remained in an
unimproved state. Roads were now for the first time
made in the Highlands. The chief literary men were
the same as those who had come into repute in the
time of Queen Anne: in addition to them, John Gay
is ''.o be reckoned amongst the poets, and Waterland
and Lardner amongst the divines. This was also more
particularly the age of Daniel Defoe, a dexterous
writer of pamphlets on the Nonconformist side, but far
more noted in later times on account of his admirable
tale of Robinson Crusoe.

GEORGE II. — WAR WITH SPAIN AND FRANCE.

George I., at his death in 1727, was succeeded by!
son, George II., a prince of moderate abilities, but cor
scientious, and free from all gross faults. In the eai°\
part of his reign, Walpole efiected some useful mea
sures, and upon the whole was a vigorous and en-
lightened administrator of public afiuirs, though nothing
can justify the extensive system of bribery by which
rlone he pretended to manage the House of Commons.
After a peace of extraordinary duration, he was urged,
much against his will, into a contest with Spain, on
account of some efforts made by that country to check
an illicit trade carried on by British merchants in its
American colonies. In searching vessels for the pre-
vention of this traffic, the Spaniards had made some
trifling aggressions; and British spirit took fire at the
indignity of being liable to a search by any neigh-
bouring state, even for the prevention of a notorious
breach of treaty. The comnmnity therefore demanded
a war; and the minister, with great reluctance, was
obliged to comply. One fleet, under Admiral Haddock,
was sent to cruise off the coast of Spain ; and another,
under Admiral Vernon, was sent against the American
colonies. The latter gained lustre by taking the impor-
tant town of Portobello. Another and larger expedi-
tion, with 10,000 soldiers, was then sent to reinforce
Vernon; but owing to disputes between him and the
commander of the troops, no further triumphs were
gained. A timid, ill-concerted, and ill-conducted attack
on the fortifications of Carthagena, lost Britain a large
body of men. Meantime, a third fleet, under Anson,
sailed to the eastern coast of Spanish America, in order
to co-operate with Vernon ; but only one of the vessels
reached its destination. Anson, thus reduced in naval
force, took several prizes off Chili, and plundered the
town of Paita, but could rcnture upon no more hazard-
ous enterprise. He cruised across the Pacific in tho
hope of meeting one of the Spanish galleons, which
usually contained great quantities of bullion; but did
not succeed, till, on his return from refitting at Canton,
he took the Manilla transport, with treasure to the
amount of three hundred thousand pounds. Though
he had failed in all the proper objects of his expedi-
tion, the money he brought to the public treasury
caused him to be very well received by the people;
while the flagrant mismanagement at Carthagena was
the subject of general execration.

Tho Spanish war now languished for some time, while
the attention of Britain was attracted to the proceed-
ings of France. After the death of the Emperor Charles
VI. of Germany, his dominions fell by inheritance to
hifl daughter, the celebrated Maria Theresa, Queen of
Hungary. She was opposed in this succession by tho
sovereigns of France, Saxony, and Bavaria, all of whom

157

CHAMBERS'S INFOBHATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

pretended to hare some olaimi on her dominioni. A
war WM commenced against her; the elector of Bavaria
wai crowned emperor, undei the title of Chorieu VII.;
and inch wae the success of the French arms, that she
was soon reduced to the greatest distress. With this
quarrel Britain had little reason foriiiterfering; but the
king thought his dominions in Germany endangered,
and the people were animated by thoir usual hostility
to the French. Walpolo, being conscientiously opposed
to the war, allowed himself to bo driven from office
(February 1742), though he still continued to enjoy
the respect of the king.

The ministry was recruited by the most popular men
of the late minority, among whom the most conspicuous
were Lord Carteret and the Earl of Bath. To the sur-
prise of the nation, this set of statesmen opposed, now
they were in power, all the improvements they had
lately professed to clamour for, and seemed even more '
willing than their predecessors to carry out the policy
which was suggested by the king's anxiety on account
of his foreign dominions. About the time when Oreiit
Britain entered into this struggle, the affairs of the
Hungarian queen took a surprising turn, and her armies,
under her husband the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Prince
Charles of Lorraine, and other eminent commanders,
began to drive her enemies from her dominions. France,
having lost 100,000 men in the contest, sued for peace;
but this the queen haughtily refuse<l, in the hope of
gaining still greater triumphs ly means of Britain.
The aid of that power, as it turned out, was of little
service to the queen. The Earl of Stair had permitted
his anny to get into a position of great diniculty at
Aschaffenburg, on the Upper Maine, and but for a,
blunder of the French, it would probably have been
starved into a surrender, along with the king and prime
minister (Cartaret), both of whom had recently joined
it. The blunder consisted in an att^ --k made by the
Duke of Grammont, with 30,000 troops, upon the Bri-
tish and Hanoverian jiifantiy, upon a plain near the
village of Dotting ju (June 16, 1743). The infantry,
cheered by the presence of the king, who rode between
the lines with his sword drawn, received the charge of
the French cavalry with great firmness, and compelled
them to retreat — a movement which communicated a
panic to the whole French anny, and might have been
attended with the niost disastrous consequences, if the
British monarch would have jicrmitted liis advantage
to be followed up. This was ; iie last occasion of a king
of Great Britain appearing on the field of battle.

The death of the Emperor Charles VIL, for whom
this great European contest appeared to have taken its
rise, might have now given an oi)portunity for the ces-
sation of hostilities; but the French thought the war
still necessary, in order to prevent the husband of Maria
Theresa from being elected emperor, and the British
were still animated by their usual antipathy to the
French. A campaign was therefore opened in Flanders,
the troops of the French nation Leing commanded by
Count Saxe, distinguished for military genius and ex-
perience; while the British and Hanoverian army was
under the charge of the young Duke of Cumberland,
second son to tbo king. To annuatc the French troops,
their sovereign (Louis XV.) and the dauphin attended
the camp. The French liaving invested Toumay, it
was resolved by the English to hazard a battle, in order
to save that strong city.

The rencounter took jdace (May 1745) at Fontenoy,
near the bridge of Colonne. The British infantry
advanced under Cumberland, and notwithstanding a
tremendous fire, which pwept them off in whole ranks,
attacked the centre of the position of the French army,
whicn they beat back in so furious a style, that Saxe
advised the king to retire for the safety of his person.
Louis bravely refused to stir, being apprehensive that
a retrogra<le motion on his part would decide the day
against his army. Ashamed to desert their sovereign,
the French returned to the charge; the cavalry renewed
their efforts, and other circumstances conspired to give
a turn to the battle. The British cavalry were prevented
158

by a mistake from giving^ their support to the infantry;
and the Dutch and Austrian part of the army was found
totally ineffective. Assailed on all sides, fatigued with
their great exertions, and galled by the French batteries,
the infantry was obliged to retire with a loss of 7000
mnn, after having beaten every regiment in the French
army. The Duke of Cumberland, though able to with '
draw in good order, did not venture after this disaster
tc face the enemy during the whole campaign. Never-
theless, the queen of Hungary at this time gained the
summit of her wishes, by the election of her husband
to the imperial throne.

nEBELLioN OP 1745-46.

'"■xe Pretender had married, in 1719, the Princess
Clementina Sobieski of Poland, and was now the father
( '' twu sons in the bloom of youth, the elder of whom
has bo' '1 distinguished in history by the title of Prince
( hanos Stuart. The misfortunes of the British arms
ou the continent, and the dissensions which prevailed
among the people and the Parliament, encouraged this
prince to make an attempt to recover the throne of his
ancestors. In 1744, he had been furnished by France
with a large fleet and ample stores to invade the British
dominious, but had been driven back by a storm, and
prevented from again setting sail by a superior fleet
under sir John Norris. The object of France in this
enterprise was to produce a diversion in favour of her
own army in the Netherlands. At present, in conse-
quence of the victory of Fontenoy, such an enterprise
was no longer necessary; but thou<,'li the French mo-
narch would not grant him any further supply, Charles
resolved to make the proposed attempt, trusting solely
to the generosity and valour of his friends in Britain.
He therefore landed from a single vessel, with only
seven attendants, on the coast of Invcmess-shire, where
the clans most attached to his family chiefly resided.
By merely working upon the ardent feelings of the
Highland chiefs, he soon induced several of them to
take up arms, among whom were Locheil, Clanrauald,
Glengarry, and Keppoch.

On the lUth of August 1745 he raised his standard at
Gleufinnan, within a few miles of the government sta-
tion of Fort William, and found himself surrounded by
about 1 500 men. The government was at first inclined
to disbelieve tho intelligence of these proceedings, but
was soon obliged to take steps for its own defence. A
reward of thirty thousand pounds was offered for tho
head of the young prince, who, with all his family, was
under attainder by act of Parliament ; and Sir John
Cope, commander of the forces in Scotland, was ordered
to advance v;ith what troops he had into the Highlands,
and suppress tho insurrection. Cope jjroceeded on this
mission with about 1400 infantry ; but on finding tho
Highlanders in possession of a strong poet near Fort
Augustus, he thought it necessary to go aside to Inver-
ness. Charles, taking advantage oi this ill-advised
movement, immediately poured his motlev followers
down into the Lowlands, gaining accassions every-
where as he advanced; and there being no adequate
force to oppose him, ho took possession successively of
Perth and Edinburgh.

Cope now transported his troops back to Lothian
by sea, and on the 'Jlst September, a rencontre took
place between him and Charles at Prestonpans. Seized
with a panic, tho royal troops fled disgracefully from
the field, leaving the prince a complete victory. With
the lustre thus acc]Uired by bis arms, ho might have
now, with four or five thousan' men, made a formid-
able inroad into England. Before ho could collect such
a force, six weeks passed away, and when at length
(November 1) he entered England., a large body of
troops had been collected to oppose him. After a bold
advance to Derby, Le wps obliged by his friends to
turn back. At Stirling ho was joined by considerable re-
inforcements, and on tbo 17th sf January 1746, a battlo
took place at Falkirk between him and General Hawley,
each numbering about BOOO troops. Here Charles was
again auccewful ; but he was unable to make any use

HISTORY OF GREAT BRITAIN AITO IRELAND.

Lothian

ntre took
Seized

uUy from
With

ght have
formid-

llect such
b length
body of

er a bold
icnds to

jrable re-

, a battle
Hawley,
tries was
any U80

of his victory, and toon after found it necesiary to
withdraw his forces to the neighbourhood of InTemess,
where he spent the remainder of the winter. The Duke
of Cumberland now put himself at the head of the
royal troops, which liad been augmented by 6000 auxi-
liaries under the Prince of Hesse, During the mouths
of February and March, the Highland army was cooped
up within its own territory, by the Hessians at Perth,
and the royal troops at Aberdeen. At length, April
16, Prince Charles met the English army in an open
moor at CuUoden, near Inverness, and experienced a
total overthrow. He had himself the greatest difficulty
in escaping from the country, and the Highlands were
subjected for several months to the horrors of military
violence in all its worst forms.

To complete the subjugation of this primitive people,
the hereditary jurisdictions under which they and the
rjst of the people of Scotland still lived, and by which
the nobles and gijntry were enabled to administer jus-
tice at their owri discretion, were abolished by aco of
Parliament. Another act put an end to the tenure of
ward - holdings, by which the land-proprio''or8 were
enabled to command the personal services, in ace and
V a; of thpse who lived on their estates. A .hird act
prohibited the use of tartan and the ancient Highland
fashion of clothes, which were supposed to have the
effect of keeping alive the warlike spirit of the moun-
taineers. The two former of these measures, in con-
nection with tiie suppression of the Stuart cause, and
some other circumstances, produced a marked improve-
ment in the social state of the Scottish people. The
government, it must be remarked, had hitherto acted
towards Scotland in a harsh and partial spirit. Sus-
pected and hated by the ruling faction, the High-
landers had every temptation to continue in adherence
to the exiled family. But when the government began
to treat them in a milder spirit, and admitted them to
the army and other branches of the public service,
their naturally generous and loyal feelings were turned
as zealously in favour of the new dynasty as they ever
had been in favour of the old. The middle of the
eighteenth century may be described as the time when
Scotland, after a long period of indolence and poverty,
first began to make advances towards that equality
with Ecglanl, in respect of comfort and prosperity,
which it has lAnce attaine<1

PEACE OF AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

During the remainder of the v/ar in which Britain
and other powers were now engaged with France, the
latter was generally successful by laud, and unfortunate
at sea, the contrary being the case with Britain. In
1748, the two countries found, after nine years of con-
tention, that their losses were equal, though in different
departments of their strength. Thirty millions had
been added to the national debt of Britain, and France
had expended an equal sum. They therefore agreed, by
a treaty formed at Aix-Ia-Chapelle, mutually to restore
their respective conquests, and to go back to exactly
the same condition iit which they stood before the war.
A more signal illustration could have scarcely been
held forth of the important truth — that war is to the
parties in general only a means of waste and loss, and
can be of no benefit to any man except at the expense
of his neighbour.

colonies and dependencies of dimtain — 1ue seven
years' war.

For several years after this period the national re-
sources underwent rapid improvement. The most
respectable minister who immediately followed Wal-
pole, was the Honourable Henry Pelham, first lord of
the Treasury and chancellor of the Exchequer, whose
commercial and financial schemes were usually very
successful. Since the rei^ of Elizabeth, the British
had been active in planting and rearing colonies, of
which a considerable number now existed in the West
Indit.8 and in North America. The East India Com-
pany had also obtained large possessions iu Hiudoostan,

which proved the source of great wealth to fiiitain. >
The exclusive spirit in which Britain managed the
commerce of those territories provoked tho cupidity of
the French, who commenced a system of aggression both
in India and North America. 1 hey, in particular, drew
a line of forts along the back settlelnents of the whole
range of the American colonies, from the Gulf of St
Lawrence to the Mississippi, so as to prevent the settlers
from advancing beyond the Appal cnian mountains.

For two or tnree years the British government suf-
fered these aggressions, and even insults of a more de-
cided nature, to pass unresented; but at length it was
determined, in 1756, to proclaim war. A campaign of
a novel and difficult character was opened in North
America, for the purpose of driving the French from
their forts. The first movements were attended with
defeat and disaster. The French had gained the ex-
clusive affection of the native Indians, who proved a
dangerous and barbarous enemy to the British. Several
of the forts were attacked, but without success; in the
assault upon Ticonderago, 2000 men were killed. At
length, on the accession of Mr William Pitt (after-
wards Earl of Chatham) to the office of secretary of
state, a more auspicious era commenced. The British
troops and provincials became more experienced in the
nature of the service. One after another, the principal
forts fell into their hands; and a diversion was created
by an attack upon Canada. In September 1759, Gene-
ral Wolfe reduced the town and fort of Quebec, though
at tho expense of his own life; and the whole colony
soon after submitted to the British arras.

Meanwhile, Colonel Clive had been equally success-
ful in the East Indies. He had destroyed the French
settlement at Pondicherry, thereby securing to his
country the whole coast of Coromandel; and by his
famous victory at Plossey (June 26, 1756), over a com-
binatioT: of French and native forces, he laid the foun-
Jdtion of tho great territorial power which the British
have since acquired in Hindoostan. Thus the French,
instead of gaining the colonies of other nations, ended
by losing some of their own.

While Britain was thus successful in two remote
quarters of the world, she experienced a difierent for-
tune in Europe. Austria, Russia, and Poland, had
combined with France against the new and rising power
of Prussia, which was at present directed by Frederick
II., commonly called Frederick the Great. Britain on
this occasion oecame the ally of the Prussian monarch,
not r.-om any regard to her ovn interests, but in order
that the king m-ght be able to protect his Hanoverian
dominions. Immense sums of money were raised for
the purpose of paying the troops of those countries
which the king was anxious to defend; and the Duko
of Cumberland was appointed their commander. This
prince was so unfortunate (September 1757) as to bring
an anuy of 40,000 men into an angular piece of
country, from which there was no escaping, so that the
whole were obliged to lay down their arms to tho
French, who then became masters of Hanover. Not-
withstanding this failure on the part of his ally, Frede-
rick was able, by his extraordinary military genius,
and by British subsidies, to defend his dominions for
several years against all the forces that Austria, France,
and Russia, could bring against him. In the midst of
this war (October 25, 1760), George II. died suddenly,
in the seventy-seventh year of his age, and was suc-
ceeded by his grandson Geoboe 111., then only in his
twenty-third year.

MISCELLANEOUS CIRCUMSTANCES CONNECTED WITH THE .
HEIQN OF OEOHGE II.

The chief domestic event of the reign of George II.
was tho rise of the religious sect ceiled Methodists. The
church had for a considerable time been in a languid
state ; amongst the community there was little religious
feeling of a fervid character; and at no previous time
were there so many conspicuous writers against the
main doctrines of Christianity. John Wesley, a clergy-
man of the established church, and several other indi-

159

CHAM6EBS'.3 INFOBMATION FOB THE PLx..LE.

viduAls of 11 enthiiiiattio turn of m\nC> were prompted
b» theiu cjwumitoncei to attempt to i-ou»e a more
itealoui piely amongst, the people; iaid in thi» objftct
they were turpriiingly succeaiful. .^uotht r clergymuu
named WhitefieW, gifted with oratorical power* which
gave him great command over the feelings of an audi-
ence, proved of much service as an itinerant preacher
in working this reformation. The con»tiiuence of these
exertions was the organisation of a new religious body,
commonly called Methodists, comprehchdiiig a vast
number of congregations in all parts of the kingdom, as
well as in the American colonies.

Newspapers first acquired political ini^j'.rtance in
this reign. They originated in the time of the Com-
monweiuth, but none of a regular periodical nature
appeared till afler the Uestoratioi:, when a busy writer
named Roger L'Estrange established in Londoii a
weekly one culled ' The Intelligencer.' Till the iie-
Tolution, such small and unimportant newspapers as
existed, were trammelled br a licensing power and cen-
sorship. When these restrictions were removed, news-
papers injrea^ed in number, till, in 1700, they were
again restricted by the imposition of a penny stamp.
In those days newspn^ne;'!* were chiefly conducted by a
set of mean and pour vt riters, to whom the term ' Grub
Street authors' was generally applied, from many of
them living in thai wretched part of London, The
influence which newsp.iyffxs were calculated to havt
over the public miisd, wns 6wt recoOTi'iCfl Ky Sir Robert
Walpolc, who, whiio i.c uaver thought of gi <, ; sig the least
encouragement to literature on its 0'.t« <v<<.coun^ Ubc~
rally pensioned various editors who suif.rt.Kl Ivii* rn..
vernment. About the beginning of tma n.iya Ui. i«
were in London one daily paper, fifleeni ibioo times
a week, and one twice a wet-k, besides a 1«v- ■.••it.>y
papers. A monthly pamphlet, begun In 17 'i I by LJ >\ ard
Cave, a London bonkseller, under t'.iH niviur of tho
* Gentleman's Magik:'hie,' was nrajfvsed of the best
articles from the newh>>apers; and thus originated the
periodical works termed magazines avid revjen\«, which
are now cons]>icuou8 as vehicles of light literature and
politii;><.' discussion.

The iict'uliar literary genius c.i the age was showtt
in the nciHious prose writings of l'"uilding, Smollett,
and S(eme, . iv] in the picturesofllo^/trth, all of which
represent the .'it'.ionalcnaracterin its .greatest breadth.
The novels «f VKtchardson are equally accurate as de-
scriptions of maufirirs, but contain no trace of the same
humour. Next in da-^inction to these writings must
be placed the eesays i i ?ohn Hawkesworth and Samuel
Johnson, the latter of v. Lorn did a great service to lite-
rature in compiling a dicticnary of the English language.
James Thomson, William Collins, and Thomas Gray,
rank high ca poets. Carte and Echard were respectable
hi8torical writes ; and philosophy was cultivated by
Francis iii.itcht^(>ii and David Hartley. Drs Conyers
Middleton, .Joseph Butler, and Isaac Watts, were the
principal writers on religious subjects.

OEOnaE III. — DVTB ADMINISTRATION — PBACE OF 1763.

Soon afler his accession, G>>oige III. espoused the
Princess Charlotte of Mecklonimig-Strelitz, by whom
he had a large family. One of his earliest political
measures was to confer one of the itate-secretaryships
upon the Earl of Bute, a Scottish nobleman of Tory or
Jacobite predilections, wno had been his preceptor, and
possessed a great influence over his mind. This, with
other alterations, infused a peaceful disposition into his
majesty's counsels, which was not much relished by Mr
Pitt. That minister, having secretly discovered that
Spain was about to join France against Britain, and
being thwarted in the liMe of policy which he conse-
quently thought it necessary to assume, retired with a
pension, and a peerage to his wife; afler which the
ministry was rendered still less of a warlike tonipei'.
A negotiation for peace was entered into with France>
which ofl>ered, for that end, to give up almost all her
colonial posscnsions. The demands of the British were,
however, rather more exorbitant than France expected,
100

and not only was the treaty broken off, but Spain com-
menced those hostilities which Mr Pitt had foretold.
JN\ vertheless, Britain continued that splendid career of
ci-nxuest which, except at the beginning, had been ■
hi'v fortune during the whole of this var. In a very
fe\) months Spain lost Havana, Manilla, and all the
Philippine Isles. The Spanish forces were also driven
out r*" Portugal, which they had unjustiy invaded. At
sea the British fleets reigned everywhe;-e triumphant,
and at no former period was the country in so proud a
situation. The ministry, however, were seiHil:.);- tL<\ii
war, even with all this good fortune, was a Ic&i.ig frnme^
ai (i t'aey therefore, much ngainst the will ui the nutioD,
coui'*luded a peace in February 1763.

ilv this treoty Great Britain gave up a c rtair. inu--
tioit < f her con(|uest8, in exchange fur other.' '.vhich ii»d
been wrested from her; but sh' was nei ■\'ih>lerj •

fuinoi' to an immimse aiiiount. i^iie acqui' ^ti tiviu tiie
'rencii, Canada, tliit part of Loui.iuna east of ihe Mis-
sissipi'i, Cape Breton, :?< uegal, the <.;landB of i.anada,
Domulf'a, St Vincei^ ['», uiul Tobago, with all tho acqui-
sitions itliii'ii ihe French hod made upon the Coro-
niundel co!;.'t. in the Ei'.m: Indies since 1749. From
Spain !>Ue acquired Minorca, Ea^t and West Florida,
with certain privileges of value. T!i*,i conti; untal states
in alliance witli Great Brici'i.\ weie ultw left rts thny
had been. Tliiiae advantages on tin pari, of Greut V>n.
tain bad been purchased at the nxpc .mv> of an addi-
tion of si.'^ty millions to the nativ: al deL't, which rtw
amounted hi all to £133,959,2(0.

TRANSACTIONS IN IRELAND.

tiiiion che pacification at Limerick, Ireland had been
ruled exclusively by the Protestant party, \^ho, under
th.-' i;^fluence of feelings arising from locxi and religious
an( 'pathies, had visited the Catholics with many seve-
rities. These measures naturally rendered the Catho-
lics discontented subjects, and led to mutli turbulence.
The common people of that persuasion, '-oing denied
all access to justice, took it into their own liauds, and
acquired those lawless habits for which they have since
been remarkable. Treachery, cruelty, and ail the lower
passions, were called into vigorous exercise. The pass-
ing of a bill in 1719 by the English Parliament, de-
claring its power to legislate for Ireland, occasioned
general dissatisfaction, and caused the rise of a patriotic
party in the Parliament and people of Irehuid, who
professed to look to the odvanta^ of the country, e.B
distinguished from that of Great Britain. The discon-
tent of the Tory party mingled with this spirit; and
the celebrated Swift, in 1724, blew it into a flame by
his severe pamphlets, called the 'Drapier's Letters,'
which professedly decried a new coinage of halfpence,
but were in reality aimed at the English ministry.

The discontents of the Catholics continued unabated,
and the contentions of the patriotic party with the ad-
herents of the English ministry were car.'ied on with
the utmost keenness in Parliament, when the rebellion
in Scotland (1745) alarmed the government for the
loyalty of Ireland. The Earl of Chesterfield, celebrated
for his literary productions, was, in this exigency, sent
for a short time m lord-lieutenant, and allowed to hold
forth all possible encouragement to the Catholics and
patriotic party. By discountenancing party distinc-
tions, and giving the Catholics the full protection of the
laws, he so effectually soothed and tranquillised the
country, that while the neighbouring Protestant king-
doms exhibited an army seeking the restoration of a
Catholic prince, Ireland, though full of Christians of
that i^rsuasion, and bound to the Jacobite cause by
many endeared associations, remained perfectly faith-
ful to the Hanover dynasty. When the danger was
past, the earl was recalled, and the former system re-
sumed. The struggles of the patriots with the English
ministerial party were continued with unabated vio-
lence down to the death of George II., without pro-
ducing any marke<i benefit to Ireland, although at one
time the former party gained an ascendancy in thg
native Parliament.

HISTORY OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRBIiAND,

j of a Whig ministry under the Mar(|ui» of Rockingham,
CABE OF MR WILKES. | which, however, tlid not long continue in power, being

Ever since the accession of the Brunswick family in | supplanted by one iu which Mr Pitt, now created Earl

1714, the government had been chiefly conducted by
the Whig party, who formed a very powerful section
of the aristocracy of England. Walpole, Pelham,
Newcastle, and Pitt, had all ruled chiefly through the
strength of this great body, who, till a period subse-
quent to the rebellion of 1 745, seem to have had the
support of the more influential portion of the people.
A^er that period, when the Stuart claims ceased to
have any effect in keeping the crown in check, a divi-
sion appears to have grown up between the government
and the people, which was manifested in various forma
even before the deuiise of George II., but broke out in
a very violent manner during the early years of his
successor's reign. George III., who had imbibed high
Tiotions of the royal prerogative from the Earl of £ute,
showed, from the beginning of his career, an anxious
desire to extend the power of the crown, to shake off
the influence of the great Whig families, and keep
popular force of all kinds within strict limits.

A stranger, with no connexion iu tlie country, a
favourite, and, moreover, a man of unprepossessing
manners, the Earl of Bute had neither the support of
the aristocracy nor of the people. He was assailed in
Parliament, and through the newspapers, with the
most violent abuse — the unpopular peace furnishing a
powerful topic against him. To this storm he at length
yielded, by retiring (April 8, 1763).

Among the public writers who assailed the rainistr}',
none was more virulent than Mr John Wilkes, mem-
ber for Ailesbury, and editor of a paper entitled the
* North Briton.' Mr George Grenville, who succeeded
Bute, commenced his career by prosecuting Wilkes for
a libel, contained in the forty-flfth number of his
paper, in which he had directly accused his majesty of
falsehood. The king's messenger, being provided with
II ifeneral warrant against the editor, printers, and pub-
lishers of the ' North Briton,' entered the house of Mr
Wilkes, and apprehended him. After being examined
before the secretaries of state, he was committed to the
Tower, and his papers were seized and sealed up. A
few days after, he was brought to Westminster Hall by
habeas corpus, and released by Chief-Justice Pratt, in
consideration of his being a member of Parliament.
The Parliament ordered the seditious paper to be burnt
by the hands of the common hangman — an operation
that produced a riot, not in itself dangerous, but serv-
ing to discover the angry spirit of the populace. Mr
Wilkes was soon after expelled from the House of Com-
mons, and found it convenient to retire to the conti-
nent. One result of his case was favourable to the
popular cause: a prosecution which he instituted against
the secretary of state, on the plea that his seizure was
illegal, terminated in a verdict of damages, and a decla-
ration by Chief-Justice Pratt, that general warrants
were inconsistent with the laws of England.

AMERICAN STAMP ACT.

The administration of Mr Grenville is memorable
fur the first attempt to tax the American colonics. An
act passed under his influence (March 17()5) for im-
posing stamps on those countries, appeared to the colo-
nists as a step extremely dangerous to their liberties,
considering that they had no share in the representa-
tion. They therefore combined almost universally to
resist the introduction of the stamped paper by which
the tax was to be raised. Resolutions were passed in
the various assemblies of the States protesting against
the assumed right of the British legislature to tax them.
Partly by popular violence, and partly by the declara-
tions issued by the local legislative assemblies, the ob-
ject of the act was completely defeated.

The home government were then induced to agree
to the repeal of the act, but with the reservation of
a right to impose taxes on the colonies. Between the
Stamp Act and its repeal, a change had taken place
in the administration: the latter measure was the act
No. 61.

of' Chatham,' held a conspicuous place. The second
Pitt administration was less popular than the first: the
Earl of Chestei-field, reflecting on the title conferred on
the minister, at the same time that he sunk in general
esteem, called his rise a fall up stairs. All the ministries
of this period laboured under a popular suspicion, pro-
bably not well founded, that they only obeyed the will
of the sovereign, while the obnoxious Earl of Bute, as
a secret adviser behind the throne, was the real, though
irresponsible minister.

At the suggestion of Mr Charles Townscnd, a member
of the Earl of Chatham's cabinet, it r as resolved, in
1767, to impose taxes on the Aineric.ns in a new shape;
namely, upon British goods imported into the colonies,
for which there was some show of precedent. An act
for imposing duties on tea, glass, and colours, was ac-
cordingly passed with little opposition. Soon after
this, Mr Townsend died, and the Earl of Chatham,
who had been prevente<l by illness from taking any
share in the business, resigned. The Americans irict
the new burdens with the same violent opposition as
formerly,

THE WILKES TUMULTS,

Early in 176U, a new administration was formed
under the Duke of Grafton, a pupil of Chatham, and
soon after a new Parliament was called. At the general
election, Mr Wilkes reappeared in England, though a
sentence of outlawry still stood against him. He even
ventured to become candidate for the county of Middle-
sex, where he was returned by a large majority. Hav-
ing previously surrendered to the jurisdiction of the
King's Bench, his outlawry was reversed ; but by virtue
of the verdicts which two courts had given against him,
ho was subjected to a line and two years' imi<ri8on-
mcnt. On his arrest, Mr Wilkes quietly committed
himself to the officers of justice, but was forcibly res-
cued by the populace ; and in a riot subsequent to this
violence, a young man, who had no participation in
the tumult, was killed. During his imprisonment, Mr
Wilkes was formally expelled the House of Commons,
on the pretext that, by the vote of censure passed by
the preceding Parliament, he was for ever disqualified
from being a representative of the people. This deci-
sion incensed a great portion of the community, and
the case became identified in their estimation witli the
liberties of the nation itself. Four times did the county
of Middlesex return Mr Wilkes ; but the rival candi-
date. Colonel Luttrell, with only a fourth of the votes,
was accepted by the House.

These proceedings occasioned many keen debates in
the House of Commons, where an opposition of much
talent and ardour of purpose now took up every popular
question. Tumults of a dangerous character were con-
stantly taking place; the cry of ' Wilkes and Liberty '
resounded everywhere, excepting only in Scotland, his
scurrility against the Scotch having rendered him
generally detested in that country. Even the muni-
cipal bodies and corporations, though usually not cosily
moved by popular topics, became zealous partisans of
Mr Wilkes, and thought it their duty to remonstrate
with the king on the arbitrary manner with which his
government was conducted.

At this much-agitated time (1769), an unknown
writer, styling himself Junius, commenced a series of
letters in thu ' Public Advertiser' newspaper, animad-
verting in the most virulent manner on both the men
and measures of the government. These compositions
were the more remarkable, as, fr^m the force and
elegance of their style, they were evidently the produc-
tion of some person not only far above the usual cha-
racter of newspaper writers, but fitted to rank with the
first intellects of his day. The publisher of the news-
paper was prosecuted for publishing them; but the
author remained concealed, and his name, though still
an object of curiosity, has never been discovered,

161

OHAUBBBS'S INTOBMAnON FOB TBB PEOPLE.

UIHI8TBT OP LOBD NORTH— THB CUT Of lOKDON's
RKMOIfgTIUMCE.

At the opening of Parliament in January 1770, It
WM expected that the conipicuous topic in the king'»
•peech would be the Middlewsx election. The »urpnM
was general when it irai. found that the kmg did not
make the least reforouce to tho troubles respecting Mr
Wilkes. The Opposition were enraged at this over-
sight, and moved, as an amendment to the address,
that an inquiry ought to be made into the causes of the
prevailing discontentu ; on which occasion, Charles
James Fox, afterwards so celebrated as a political
leader, matte his first speech in Parliament. Tho
amendroent was negatived by 254 against 138, which
showed that his majesty was quite secure of the sup-
port of the House of Commons.

At this time, the Duke of Grafton retired from the
rabinet, and bis place was supplied by Lord North, son
of the £arl of Quilford. The new ministry was the
tenth which had existed during as many years, but tho
first in which the king might be considered as com-
pletely free of the groat Whig families, who, by their
parliamentary influence, had possessed the chief power
since the Revolution. This was the beginning of a series
of Tory administrations, which, with few and short in-
tervals, conducted the affairs of the nation down to the
dose of the reign of George IV.

The supposed injury which the cause of fiee election
had sustained from the decision of the House of Com-
mons, still for a time agitated the public mind. Forty-
eight peers, including all the great Whig chiefs (Devon-
shire, Rockingham, Grosvenor, Fitzwilliam, Tankerville,
King, &c.), besides the Earl of Chatham, made a public
declaration that they should not cease their efforts till
they had obtained full justice to the electors of Britain.
The city of London, and some other corporations of
note, presented remonstrances to the king on the same
subject. The policy of the king and cabinet was ) o
wear out the public fervour by dignified silence. No
notice was therefore taken of these remonstrances; and
under this species of policy the Wilkes agitations in
time subsided.

THE AMERICA?* WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.

Meanwhile the remonstrances of the American colo-
nists had induced the ministry to give up all the new
taxes, with the exception of that on tea, which it was
detennined to keep up, as an assertion of the right of
Parliament to tax the colonies. In America, this
remaining tax continued to excite as much discontent
as the whole had formerly done, for it was the principle
of a right to impose taxes which they found fault witb,
and not tho amount of the tax itself. Their discontent
with the mother country was found to affect trade con-
siderably, and the British merchants were anxious to
bring the dispute to a close. The government was then
induced to grant such a drawback from the British duty
on tea, as enabled the East India Company to offer the
article in America at a lower rate than formerly, so
that the American duty, which was only threepence
& pound, did not affect the price. It was never doubted
that this expedient would satisfy the coloi .its, and large
shipments of tea were accordingly sent out from the
British ports. The principle of the right to tax still
lurked, however, under the concession, and the result
only showed how little the sentimeuM of the Americans
were understood at homo.

The approach of the tea cargoes excited them in a
manner totally unlooked for in Britain. At New York
and Philadelphia, the cargoes were forbidden to land.
In Charlestown, where they were permitted to land,
ther wore put into stores, and prohibited from t>eing
■old. At Boston, a ship-load, which had been intro-
duced into the harbour, was seized by a lawless mob,
and towed into the sea. This last act of violence was
resented by the passing of a bill in Parliament for in-
terdicting all commercial intercourse with the port of
Boston, and aiu^er for taking away tho legislative
1«2

assembly of the state of TJaisachuiettl. The former
measure was easily obviated by local arrangements;
and in reference to the latter, a Congress of represen-
tatives from the variouo States met at Philadelphia, in
September 1774, when it was asserted that the exclu-
sive power of legislation, in all cases of taxation and
internal policy, resided in the provincial legislatures.
The same assembly denounced other grievances, which
havo not here been particularly adverted to, especially
an act of the British legislature for trying Americans,
for treasonable practices, in England. The Congress
also framed a covenant of non-intercourse, by which
the whole utility of the colonies to the mother country,
as objects of trading speculation, was at once laid pros-
trate. The colonists still avowed a desire to be recon-
ciled, on the condition of a repeal of the obnoxious
statutes. But the government ha<l now resolved to
attempt the reduction of the colonists by force of arms.
Henceforth, every proposal from America was treated
with a haughty silence on the part of the British mo-
narch and his advisers.

The war opened in the summer of 1775, by skirmishes
between tho British troops and armed provincials, for
the possession of certain magazines. At the beginning
there seemed no hope of tho contest being protracted
beyond one campaign. The population of the colonies
witS at this time under three millions, and f hoy were
gr(>atly inferior in discipline and appointments to the
Britikh troops. They pojsessed, however, an indomi-
table zeal in the cause they had agreed to defend, and
fought with the advantage of being in the country of
their friends. At Bunker's Hill, near Boston (June 17,
1775), they had the superiority in a well-contested
fight with the British troops, of whom between two
and three hundred were killed. At the end of one
year, the British government was surprised to find that
no progress had been made towards a reduction of the
Americans, and sent out an offer of pardon to the
colonists, on condition that they would lay down their
arms. The proposal only mot with ridicule.

On the 4th of July 1776, the American Congress took
the decisive step of a declaration of their iiideii«ndence,
embodying their sentiment in a document remarkable
for its pathos and solemnity. During the next two
campaigns, the slender forces of the new republic were
hardly able anywhere to face the large and well-ap-
pointed armies of Great Britain. Much misery was
endured by this hardy people in resisting the British
arms. Notwithstanding every disadvantage and many
defeats, America remained unsubdued.

The first serious alann for the success of the co'> tost
in America, was communicated in December 17< ', , by
intelligence of the surrender of an army under General
Burgoyne at Saratoga. In the House of Commons, the
ministers acknowledged this defeat with marks of deep
dejection, but still professed to entertain sanguine
hopes, from the vigour with which the large towns
throughout Biltain were now raising men at tlieir own
expense for the service of the government. Mr Fox,
the leader of the Opposition, made a motion for the
discontinuance of the war, whii ' was lost by 165 to
259, a much narrower majority ihan any which tho
ministry had before reckoned in the Lower House.

In proportion to the dejection of the government,
was the elation of the American Congress. Little more
than two years before, the British sovereign and minis-
ters had treated the petitions of the colonists with
silent contempt ; but such had been the current of
events, that, in 1778, they found it necessary, in order
to appease the popular dbcontent, to send out commis-
sioners, almost for the purpose of begging a peace. As
if to avenge themselves for the indignities of 1775,
the Americans received these commissioners with the
like haughtiness; and being convinced that they could
secure their inde])endence, would listen to no proposals
in which the acknowledgment of that independence,
and the withdrawal of the British troops, did not occupy
the first place. The ministers, unwilling to submit to
such terms, resolved to prosecute the war, holding fortit

HISTOBT 0? GBEAT BRITAUT AKD XBELAKD.

Tie former -
Dgementi ;
: repreten-
lelphia, in
the oxclu-
cation and
'gislaturM.
icei, which
, eapecially
/Vmericanii
« ConnMt
', by which
or country,
B laid pros-
« be rccon-
obnoxioug
resolred to
■ce of amn.
wM treated
British mo-

r ikirmiBhes
vincialR, for
e beginning
f protracted
the colonies
i ♦hpy were
nents to the
an indomi'
defend, and
B country of
jn (June 17,
ell-conteiited
:i«twee& two
I end of one
to find that
iction of the
irdon to the
Y down their
e.

longress took

idei^ndencc,

remarkable

le next two

jpablic were

md well-ap-

misery was

the British

;e and many

to the public, as the best defence of thoir conduct, the
neoessity of curbing the spirit of insubordination, both
in the American colonies and at home, which they
described as threateninff the overturn of the most sacred
of the national institutions.

The rise of Oreat Britain during the seTentcenth and
eighteenth centuries, in wealth and military and naval
power, had been observed by many of the surround-
ing states with no small degree of jealousy. France,
in particular, had not yet foro'^^u the triumphant
peace which Britain had (Mo^ated in 1763. The Ame-
ricans, therefore, by their emisaary, the celebrated
Benjamin Franklin, found no great diiflculty in forming
an alliance with France, in which the latter power
acknowledged the independence of the colonists, and
proi/iised to send them large auxiliary forces. Viewing
the distressed state to which Britain was reduced by
the contest, and concluding that the time had arrived
to strike a decisive blow for her humiliation, Spain soon
after declared war against her; and in 17H0, Holland
was added to the number of her enemies. Uutsia then
put herself at the head of what was called an Armed
Neutrality, embracing Sweden and Denmark, the object
of which was indirectly hostile to Britain. So tremen-
dous was the force reared against Britain in 1779, even
before all these powers had entered into hostilities, that
it required about 300,000 armed men, 300 armed ves-
sels, and twenty millions of monf annually, merely
to protect herself from her enemiet. Even her wonted
superiority at sea seemed to hare deserted her ; and
for some time the people beheld the unwonted spectacle
of a hostile fleet riding in the Channel, whicn there
was no adequate means of opposing.

It was now obvious to the whole nation that this
contest, upon whatever grounds it commenced, was a
great national misfortune; and the Opposition in Par-
liament; began to gain considerably in strength. After
some votes, in which the ministerial majorities appeared
to be gradually lessening, Mr Dunning, on the 6th of
April 1780, carried, by a majority of eighteen, a motion,
* tuat the inuuence of the crown hod increased, was
increasing, and ought to be diminished,' This was
looked upon as a severe censure of the government,
considering that the House of Commons was not alto-
gether a popular body, but included many who had
seats there only through the influence of the crown, or
by the favour of the nobility and gentry.

In the year 1778, an act had been passed, relieving
the Roman Catholics in England from some of the severe
penal statutes formerly enacted against them. The
apprehension of a similar act for Scotland caused the
people of that country to form an immense number of
associations with a view to opposing it ; and in the
early part of 1779, the popular spirit broke out at Edin-
burgh and Glasgow in several alarming riots, during
which one or two Catholic chapels, and some houses
belonging to Catholics, were pillaged and burnt. An
extensive Protestant Association was also formed in
England, to endeavour to procure the repeal of the
English act. This body was cliiefly led by Lord George

ordon, a son of the late Duke of Gordon, and member
ol' the House of Commons, In June 1780, an .'mmense
mob assembled in Jjondon to accompany Loii George
to the House of Commons, where he was to present a
petition against the act, signed by 120,000 persons. His
motion for the repeal of the act being rejected by a vast
majority, he came out to the lobby and harangued the
crowd in violent terms, suggesting to them similar acts'
to those which had taken place in Scotland. The mob
accordingly proceeded to demolish the chapels of the
foreign ambassadora. Meeting with no effectual resist-
ance, for the magistrates of the city wore afraid to take
decisive measures against them, they attacked New-
gate, released the prisoners, and set the prison on fire.
The new prison at Clerkenwejl, the King's Bench, and
Fleet Prisons, and the New Bridewell, were treated in
like manner. At one time, thirty-six fires were seen
throughout the city. The mob had uncontrolled pos-
s^on of the ■ treote for five days, pillaging, burning.

and demolishing; until the king in council determined
to authorise the military to put them down by force of
arms. Tranquillity wa« then restored, but not before
upwards of 400 person!: were killed and wounded.
Many of the ringleadors were convicted and executed.
Lord George Gordon was tried for high treason, but
acquitted on a plea of insanity, which his subsequent
life showed to be well founded. Similar outrages wera
attempted in other cities, but prevented by the visour
of the magistrates. The chief sufierers from these
riots were the party who aimed at politioU reforms.
On the other hand, the king obtained increaied resneot,
ii' insequence of the firmness he had shown in taking
I . ivsures for the suppression of the riots.

The states of North and South Carolina, wlich con-
tained a larger proportion of persons friendly to the
British crown than any of the northern states, had
submitted, in 1780, to a British army under General
Clinton, -Next year, the greater part of the troops
which had been left in those states were conducted
northward by Lord Comwallis, in the hope of making
further conquests; but the consequence was, that Ge-
neral Greene, after a series of conflicts, in which he
greatly distressed various parties of the British troops,
regained both Carolinos, while Lord Comwallis took
up a position at Yorktown in Virginia, At this time.
General Washington, the American commander-in-
chief, to whose extraordinary sagacity and purity of
motives the colonists chiefly owed their independence,
was threatening General Clinton's army at New York.
Clinton tamely saw him retire to the southward, be-
lieving that he only meant to make a feint, in order
to draw away the British from New York, when he in
reality meant to attack Comwallis. On the 29th of
September (1781), Yorktown was invested by this and
other corps of Americans and French; and in three
weeks more, the British batteries being completely
silenced. Lord Comwallis surrendered with his whole
army. With this etent, though some posts were still
kept up by British troops, hostilities might be said to
have been concluded.

At the next opening of Parliament, many of those
who had formerly supported the war, began to adopt
opposite views; and early in 1782, a motion, made by
General Conway, for the conclusion of the war, was
carried by a majority of nineteen. The necessary con-
sequence was, that, on the 20th of March, Lord North
and his colleagues resigned ofiice, after twelve years of
continued misfortune, during which the prosperity of
the country had been retarded, a hundred millions
added to the national debt, and three millions of people
separated from the parent state.

As usual in such cases, a new administration was
formed out of the Opposition. The Marquis of Rock-
ingham was made prime minister, and Mr Fox one of
the secretaries of state. The new ministers lost no time
in taking measures for the restoration of peace. Unfor-
tunately for their credit with the nation, Sir George
Rodney gained an important victory over the French
fleet off the island of Dominica, April 12, 1782, after
the ministers had despatched another officer to super-
sede him in the command. On this occasion, thirty,
seven British vessels encountered thirty-four French;
and chiefly by the dexterous manoeuvre of a breach of
the enemy's line, gained one of the most complete vic-
tories recorded in modem warfare. The triumph was
eminently necessary, to recover in some measure the
national honour, and enable the ministers to conclude
the war upon tolerable terms. In November, provi-
sional articles for a peace with the United States of
America, now acknowledged as an independent power,
were signed at Paris, and the trea^ was concluded in
the ensuing February. When the American ambassador
was afterwards, for the first time, introduced at the
British leve'e, the king received him kindly, and said
with a manly frankness, that though he had been the
last man in his dominions to desire that the indepen-
dence of America should be acknowledged, he should
also bo the last to wish thai that ftcknowledgment

OHAMBBBSfl INFORMATION FOR THE PBOPLE.

Aould be withdrawn, Warwu ioon .fter concluded
with Franco, Spain, and Holland, but not without «ome
coniiderablo conocwlon. of colonial territory on the
part of Great Dritain. ,

The concluiion of thii war is momorablo m a period
of sreat lufferlng, arisit.jr from the exhaustion of the
national resources, the Vlepression of cmnmorce, and
the accident of a ba.1 harvest. The priii .pies of pros-
nerity were, after all, found to he so firmly rooted in the
ountry, that immediately after the flrst distresses liul
passed away, every department of the state resumed us
wonted vigour, and uuriiig the ensuing ten years of
peace a great advance was made in national wealth.

On'tho unexpected death of the Marquis of Kocking-
ham, in July u't', tbo king chose as bis successor the
Katl'of Sbelburue, who, though nominally a Whig, was
not su.'ticiently inclined to the general measures of that
party t) bo agreeable to Mr Fox and other loading
members of the cabinet. Un thoir consenuent resigna-
tion, the vacancies were filled up by the friends of Shel-
burne, among whom was Mr William Pitt, a younger
son of the Earl of Chatham. This young stateiminn,
to whom was assigned the office of chancellor of the
exchetiuer, had already distinguished himself by the
part he took in the popular proceedings for a rofonii
of the House of Commons — an object which the Opposi-
tion and their supporters had for somu yeurs advocated
with great zeal, but which soon after fell in a great
measure out of public notice.

COALITION MINISTRY.

The present ministry was oppo8e<l by two parties of
rery dinbrcnt principles — namely, the adherents of the
North administration, and tho friends of those Whigs
who had lately retired front the cabinet. These ' >vo
parties, notwithstanding that they had been opposeu to
each other throughout all the late war, coalesced for
fucclous or ambitious purposes; and being triumphant
over the ministry, forced themselves upon tho Icing'.*
counsels. Then was formed (April 2, ^703) what was
called the Coalition Ministry, in which Lord North and
Mr Fox acted together ai> secretaries of state, though
two years had hardly elapsei^ since the letter had
breathed the most violent threat i in Parliament against
his present associate. A coahvion, iu which p.ilitical
principle was supposed to be abandoned fo, ' he sake of
ofBcc, could not be agreeable to the nation, Vt A\e it was
evidently embarrassing to the sovereign. Mr Fox had
prepared and carried through the Lower House his
famous bill for tho regulation of the East India Com-
pany, by which all authority was to devolve on seven
directors choKen by the House of Commons; in other
words, by which tho immense patronage of this offshoot
of the empire was to fall into the hands of the uiuiistry.
The India bill, as it was called, was generally supposed
to aim at -fixing the ministry in power beyond the con-
trol of both king and people, and it accordingly roused
much indignation. His majesty therefore, fully confi-
dent of support from the people, used his personal in-
fluence, in no covert way, to induce the House of Lords
to reject the bill, and (December I tt) sent a messenger
to demand the seals of office from his over-ambitious
miuiiiters, appointing Mr Pitt to be the prime minister
and civaucellor u>f the exchequer of a new cabinet, con-
sisting chiefly of hie majesty's friends.

The various departments of the state were now
thrown into a relative position, which had never been
known before, and has never recurred. The king an<!
his ministers, backed by a decided majority r? the
public, were opposed by two powerful aristocratic fac-
tions in the House of Commons, who defeated every
nieasure that was introdnced, refused tho usual sup-
plies, and voted again and again resolutions against
the continuance of the present men in office, which
they denounced as unconstitutional. But in the course
of a few weeks, tho influence of tho Opposition was sen-
sibly reduced ; tho public sentiment and the power of
the court began to take effect even on this intractable
body; and when at length their majority had been
10'4

worn down to mo, which happened on a motion by Mr
Fox. thu king diMolved tho Parliament— a measure
which, whatever it might promise to him, he did not
previously think justifiable. 80 far were fho votes of
the coalition ftom bf ing based on popular sup]iort, that
in the now elect! n, no fowcr than one hundred mid
sixty members lost their seats. The r.ow House of
Commons was so favourable towards the king and
ministry, as to enable the public ler/ico to go on with>
out further interruption.

LEalSI.ATIVR MRASVRRH IN IHEIiAWU.

From tho end of tao reign of (ieorge I., a patriotic
party in Ireland, con.posed of a mixture of Catholics
and Protestants, had been exerting itteli' to reduce the
influence of the English miiiislTy in their country. The
resistance of tho American colonists gave a powerful
stimulus to this body; and on some alarm of an inva-
sion of tho French, they found n pretext for taking up
armv, apparently for the protection of the country, but
in reality to render themselves formidable to England.
Encouiagod by Parliament, and headed by the princi-
pal men in the country, the Volunteer Corps, as thoy
wi-re called, held meetings and passed resolutions, in
which tbtiv openly avowed their dcterminatiun, at tho
hazard of lifo and fortune, to achieve the indcpendenco
of tho native legislature, and a complete participation
in the commercial rights of the British. Tho govern-
ment, being then too feeble tn resist, bowed to their
demands, Pcyning's law, atid others which had given
tho English Purliainent a right to interfere with Ire-
land, were repealed; and itcts were passed for the right
of halieas corpus and tho independence of tlie judges.
In November 1783, the volunteers hold a grand con-
vention in Dublin, and proposed to urge the question of
parliamentary reform; out the govcniment now began
to regain strength, and in a short time, by skilful mea-
sures, it prevailed upon tho corps to dissolvo.

AlIMSTBV OP MR PITT — FROM 1784 TO THE COMMENCE-
MK.VT or THE I'RKNCII RK VOLUTION.

Till Jigh tho favourite minister of a sovereign decidedly
opposed to all popular innovations, Mr t'itt continued
to profess his former zeal for a reform in the House of
Commons; but, as might be expected, was unable to
bring the power of the goveninient to bear upon tho
siibjwt. In April 17U.5, he asked leave of the Houso
to bring in a bill for this object; but it was refused by
a large majority. The desire of parliamentary i-eform
nevertheless continued to animate a large portion of
the community. In 17114, a regular society had teen
instituted in Scotland, for the purpose of obtaining
such a measure; and in the succeeding year, forty-nine
out of the sixty-Rix boroughs had declared in favour of
it. There were also numerous associations of a similar
character throughout England.

In 1786, Mr Pitt established his celebrated but fal-
lacious fcbeine for redeeming the national debt, 'by
what w.is called a Sinking Fund, The revenue was at
this time above hfteen millions, beht^ about one million
more than was raquired for the puolic service. Thin
excess he proposed 'o lay aside annually, to lie at
compound interest; by which means he calculated that
each miliiv>n would be quadrupled at the end of twenty-
eight years, ai.'l thus go a great way towards the object
he had in view, lo this scheme Mr Fox added the infi-
nitely more absurd amendment, that, when the goveni-
luent required to borrow more money, one million of
every six so obtained should be laid aside for the same
purpose. The scheme was so well received as to in-
crease the popularity of the ministci, aud it was not
till 1813 that its fallacy was proved.

In the same year commenced the parliamentary
proce«dings against Mr Warren Hastings, for alleged
cruelty and roobcty exercised upon the natives of India
during his governorship of that dependency of Great
Rritain. These proceedings were urged by Mr Burke
and other members of the Whig party, and oxcited so
much public indignation against Mr Hastings, that the

mSTOBY OP OnEAT DRTTAra AND IRBLAKD.

but fol-

debt, ty

bue was at

pic milliou

\v.e. This

I to lie at

bat«d that

M twenty-

|the object

" the iiifi-

be goveni-

Inillion of

] the same

las to in-

was not

MTientary
|r alleged
1 of India
I of Great
{r Burke
Ixcited BO
1 that the

minittry wu i)bll{|cd, though unwillingly, to Icixl their
countenance to his trial, which touli place b«l' <*aT-
liament in the most solemn manner, ami ovi in

the aggregnte one hundred and forty-ninu Jays, extend-
ing over a xpnce of several years. The prucvediugs
resulted in the acquittal of Mr Hastings.

The king and queen had in the meantime beco.ae
the parents of a numerous fatnily of sons and daughtere.
The eldest son, (leorge, Prince of Wales, had now for
several years been of ago, and exempted from the con-
trol of his father. He had no sooner been set up in an
establishment of bis own, than he ]>lunged into a career
of prodigality, fori'iing the most striking contrast with
the chastened simplicity and decorum of thu paternal
abode ilu iiUu attached himself to the party of the
Opposition, though rather apparently from a princlrde
of contradiction to his father, than a sinrere approba-
tion of their political objects. The rcnult was the
complete alienation of the Prince of Wales from the
. ailcrtions of his majesty.

In November 17UU,an uborr-Jon of intellect, result-
ing from an illness of some juration, was observed in
the king, and it became necessary to provide some
species of substitute for the exercise of the royal func-
tions. To have invested the Prince of Wales with the
regency, appeared the most obvious course; but this
would have thrown out the ministry, as it was to be
supposed that his royal highness would call the chiefs
of his own party to his councils. Mr Fox contended
that the hereditary nature of the monarchy pointed out
an unconditional right in the prince to assume the
supreme power under such circumstances; but Mr Pitt
asserted the right of Parliament to give or withhold
such an office, and proposed to assign certain limits to
the authority of the intended regent, which would have
placed the existing ministry beyond his reach. The
Irish Parliament voted the unconditional regency to
the prince; but that of (ireat Britain was about to
adopt the modified plan proposed by Mr Pitt, when,
March 17<ii), the king suddenly recovered, and put an
end to the difficulty. The debates on the regency
question exhibit in a very striking light how statesmen
will sometimes abandon their most favourite dogmas
and strongest principles on the call of their on-n imme-
diate interests.

MWELLANKODS CIECUM8TANCES FRCM 1760 TO 1790.

At the beginning of the reign of George III., both
the commerce and the manufactures of the country
might be considered r.s in a highly flourishing comli-
tioD. Scotland was r.ot now, as ibnncrly, exempt from
the general prosperity. Tn that country, since the year
1746, great improvements of various kinds had taken
place : the linen manufacture had been much ad-
vanced ; a trade with the colonics had sprung up ;
agriculture was undergoing great changes for the
better; the Highlands were now peaceful, and through-
out the whole country were seen conspicuous symptoms
of increasing wealth and comfort, and their natural
consequence, refinement of manners.

During the first ten years of the reign of George
III., some discoveries and inventions were made, by
which the prosperity of the whole empire received a
new impulse. By the improvements eflfected in the
steam-engine by Mr James Watt, a superior mechanic
power was obtained for the driving of machinery and
other purposes. Mi* James Hargreaves of Blackburn
invente<I the spinning-jenny, a contrivance for abridg-
ing the use of hand-labour in the cotton manufacture.
Upon this an improvement was afterwards made by Mr
Richard Arkwrignt, who invented what was called the
spinning-frame, by which a vast number of threads of
tne utmost fineness were spun with very little aid from
hand-labour. A third invention, called the mtde-jenny,
by Mr Crompton of Bolton, came into use some years
later; and finally, the power-loom was invented, by Dr
Cartwright, for sur.ci«ding hand -labour in weaving,
By these means, the cotton manufacture was brought
io a pitch of prosperity in Britain, such as no puticuUr

branch of manufacture had ever axpsrienctd befor* in
luiy country. The immense wealth produced by it U
allowed to have been what chiefly enabled the naMon
to sustain the great contest In which it was iillerwards
involved with T'raiice. Considering these results, the
original condition of the principal persons concerned in
improving the manufacture is somewhat remarkable.
Mr Watt, who gave it a mechanic force in the steam-
engine, was an artisan in his early days ; Mr Har-
greaves was a cari)enter; and Mr Arkwright a dresser
of hair. The last, who was knighted by George III,,
left at his death nearly a million sterling, realised by
the profitH of his invention.

The cail^ part of the reign of George III. was dis-
tinguished by the discoveries of Captaiu Cook in the
Pacific Ocrean, by the formation of many canals for in-
ternal navigation, and by the foundation of the Royal
Acadeniy for the Promotion of the Fine Arts. This

Seriod derives lustre from the admirable paintings of
larry, Blake, lloppner, and lleynolds. Astronomy
was cultivated by Dr William lierschel, who in 1781
discovered the planet Uranus. Chomintry was improved
by Dr Joseph Block and Mr Cavendish. The science
of medicine was advanced by Dr Cullen of Edinburgh ;
;i Md natural history by iiir Joseph Banks. In literature,
the chief place is due to Dr Uamuel Johnson, who had
flourished also in the preceding rei^'ii. Oliver Gold-
smith, Mark Akenside, and William Cowpor, were the
most eminent poets. History was written in a masterly
manner by Dr William Bobertsoii and David Hume;
Henry Home, David 'lume, and Adam Smith, figure
as philosophical writers; Sir William Blackstonu wrote
on English law; s;.d amongst diviies, the most eminent
were Bishops Warburton, Jortiu, and Hurd,

FRENCH REVOLUTION, ANU CONSEQUENT WAR WITH FRANCE.

The country had for several years experienced the
utmost prosperity and peace, when it was roused by a
series of events which took place in France. The pro-
ceedings of the French nation for redressing the political
grievances under which they had long laboured, com-
menced in 1789, and were at first very generally ap-
plauded in Britain, as likely to raise that nation to a
rational degree of freedom. Ere long, the violence
shown at the destruction of the Bastille, the abolition
of hereditary privileges, the open disrespect for religion,
and other symptoms of an extravagant spirit, manifested
by the French, produced a considerable change in the
sentiments of the British people. The proceedings of
the French were still justified by the principal leaders
of Opposition in Parliament, and by a numerous class
of the community ; but they inspired the government,
and the propertied and privileged classes generally,
with great alarm t'nd distrust.

When at length thepon'=',ion of Austria and Prussia
with the fugitive noblest v: \\fA excited the spirit of the
French people to a species of n y, and led to the estab-
lishraent of a Republic, dml t'.i; ieath of the king, the
British government ann ji> ;u (.porter;^ were effectually
roused to u sense of i,,,- (Jr^ager which hung over all
ancient institutions, and a pretext was found (Januaiy
1 793) for declaring war against France. A comparatively
small body of the people were opposed to this step,
which waa also loudly deprecated in Parliament by
Messrs Fox and Sheridan; but all these remonstrances
were drowned in the general voice of the nation. At
such a crisis, to speak of political reforms in England
seemed the height of imprudence, as tending to encou-
rage the French. All, therefore, who continued to
make open demonstrations for that cause, were now
branded as enemies to religion and civil order. In
Scotland, Mr Thomas Muir, a barrister, ond Mr Palmer,
a Unitarian clergyman, were tried for sedition, and
sentenced to various terms of banishment. Citizens
named Skirving, Gerald, and Margatot, were treated
in like manner by the Scottish criminal judges, for
offences which could only be said to derive the cha-
racter ascribed to them firom the temporary and acci-
dental circumstances of the nation. An attempt to

165

OHAMIIIM IVrOBlUnOV fOB TBI PIOPLt.

inflUl ilmilM minUhmMU upon th« Knullih rtforrom.
WMdtfMted bytht •oquU»4J of » shownaM nMn«d
HMiivi bul lh« p»rtjr wm nrrtrth.ltw •ubjtot.d. with
tlw appwrant conourwnc* of » Imr* Mid lnflu«nti»l por-
Uoii (»flh« p«)pU, to rowiT minor ■•▼•'•'"•fc

Aftw alliMioM h»<l tM«n foniiad with lh« other powen
koitlli to FrMiM, tht Dritiih rniniitan liMpktched »ii
Army to th« NfthwlMidi, under the conimknd of the
klnic't Mcond lun, the Uuke of York, to co-op«r»t« In
iwduoiiic tb« fortrwiet in i>oMMiion uf the Frtncb,
while the town of Toulon, beinir inaline<l to remain
under the BUthority of the royal family, put itielf into
the handi of a Uritiih nuvid nominantlor. j\t flret, the
Frenoh leeiced to fail lomewbat in their dofaiicee; but
on a inoie ardently republican party aoce<liiig to power
under the direction of the fainoue Kobeipierre, the
national energiee were much increaeed, and the I)uk«
of Urunswick experienced a terioi of diigraceful re-
verate. The PruHian goreniment, baring Mlopted new
riewt of the condition of Franco, now Wgan tu with-
draw iti troops, on the pretext of being unable to pay
them I and though Hritam gare nearly a million ana a-
quarter etcrliiig to induce thii power tu remain nine
uionthi longer upon the field, iti co-operation waa of
no further Kerrice, and wat toon altogether lost. Un
the lit of June 1794, the French Dreat fleet luitained
a eevere defeat from Lord llotro, with the Ioh uf aix
■hip*; but the republican troop* not only drove the
combined anniee out of the Nctkerlandi, but taking
advantage of an unuiually hard fruit, inraded Holland
by the ice which covered the Hhine, and reduced that
oouiitry to a Republic under their own control, 'I'be
■ucceiieiof tlie Uritiih were limited to the above naval
victory, the t<>mporary pjiieuion of Conica and Tou-
lon, the capture of several of the French colonies in
the Weit Indiei, and the spnliatinn of a groat ({uantity
of the commercial shipping of France; against which
were to bo reckoned the expulsion of an army from the
Netherlands, the loss of 10,00<) men and 60,000 stand
of arms, in an unsuccessful descent upon the west coast
of France, some oonsiderable losses in mercantile ship-
ping, and an inci-eose of annual ex]>euditure from about
fourteen to nearly forty millions.

In the course of the year 1795, the lower portions of
the community began to ap])ear violently discontented
with the progress of the war, and to renew their de-
manuk for raform in the state. As the king was passing
(October 29) to open the session of Parliament, a stone
was thrown into his coach, and the interference of the
korte guards was requited to protect his pereon lyom
an infuriated mob. The ministers consequently ob-
tained acts for more effectually repressing sedition, and
for the dispersion of political meetings. They were at
the luuie time compelled to make a snow of yielding to
the popular clamour for peace; and commenced a ne-
gotiation with the French Directory, which was broken
off by the refusal of France to restore Iklgium to
Austria. In the ensuing year, so far from any advance
being made towards the subjugation of France, the
northern states of Italy were overrun by its armies,
and formed into what was called the Cisalpine Republic,
The celebrated Napoleon Bonaparte made his first con-
spicuous appearance as the leader of this expedition,
which ttrmuiated in Austria submitting to a humiliat-
ing peace. At the clou.' of 1796, a French fleet sailed
for Ireland, with the design of revolutionising that
country, and detaching it Kom Britain ; but its object
was defeated by stress of weather. At this crisis, a
new attempt was made to negotiate with the French
Republic ; but as the events of the year had been
decidedly favourable to France, a renewed demand of
the British for the surrender of Belgium was looked
upon OS a proof that they were not sincere in their

Ciposals, and their agent was insultingly ordered to
ve the French territory. To add to the distreisea of
Britain, while Austria was withdrawn from the number
of her allies, Spain, bv a declaration of war in 1797,
increased in no inconsiderable degtw (h« inuaWNfiWM
with which rite had to contend.
ICG

TIIBlUTimBD INVAIIOM— SUIU^UKNT BVl,>;M.

For somr time an invasion of Britain hi.' ■'!«.<n
threatened by France; and, sacred as the lait ( -..i
been for centuries iVum the touch of a foreign ei.«.'. v,
the successes of the republicans had hitherto so grtatly
exceeded all previous calculstion, that the execution of
their design did not appear imprubahle. Just as the
interference of the neighbouring powers had, in 1702,
roused the energ'-ts of the French, so did this proposed
invasion stimulate the spirit of the Hritish {leople. The
clamours of refonners, and of those who were fViendly
to France, were tiowloat in an almost univnrsal seal for
the defence of tbu nountry ; and not only were volun-
teer corps everywhere formed, but the desire of pro-
secuting the War became nearly the ruiiiig sentiment
of the nation. The ministers, perceiving the advaiitagu
which was to be derived fmiii the tendency of thu na-
tional spirit, a])peared serioualy to dread an invasion,
and thus produced an unexpected and very distressing
result. The credit of the Bank of Kngland was shaken ;
a rtm was made upciti it for gold in exchange for its
notes, which it could not meet. On the 2£th of Feb-
ruary 1797, therefore, the Bank was obliged, with the
sanction of tho privy-council, to suspend caih payments
— that is, to refuse giving coin on demand fur the paper
money which had been issued. This step led to a great
depreciation in the value of Dank of Kngland notes;
and was followed bv a very serious derangement of tho
currency for a numlM.'r of years.

In April, a new p.larm arose from the proceedings
of the seamen on board the Channel fleet, who mutinied
for an advance of pay, and the redress of stime alleged
grievances. A convention of delegates from the various
ships met in Lord Howe's cabin, and drew un petitions
to thu House of Commons and the Board of Admiralty.
Upon these being yielded to, order was restored ; but
the seamen on board the fleet at the Nora soon after
broke out in a much more alarming revolt ; and on
the refusal of their demands, moored their vessels
across the Thames, thraatening to cut off all communi-
cation l>etween London and the open sea. The reduc-
tion of this mutiny appeare<l at one time as if it could
only be effected by much bloodshed; but by the firm-
ness of the government, and some skilful dealings with
the seamen, a loyal party was formed, by whom the
more turbulent men were secured, and the vessels re-
stored to their respective officer*. The ringleaders, the
chief of whom was a young man named Richard Parker,
were tried and executed.

The same year was remarkable for several victories
gained b^ the British fleets. A Spanish fleet of twenty-
seven ships was attacked by fifteen vessels under Ad-
miral Jervis (February 14), oflf Cape St Vincent, and
completely beaten, with the los* of^ foui large vessels.
A fleet under Admiral Harvey, with a militanr foreo
under Sir Ralph Abercromby, captured the island of
Trinidad, a Spanish colony. In October, a Dutch fleet,
under Admiral De Winter, waa attacked oflf the village
of Camperdown, upon their own coast, by Admiral
Duncan, who, after a desperate battle, captured nine of
tho enemy's vessels. These naval successes compen-
sated in some meosuro for the many land victories of
the French, and served to sustain the spirit of the
British nation under this unfortunate contest.

In 1798, the French overran and added to their
dominions the ancient republic of Switxerland, which
gave them a frontier contiguous to Austria, and en-
abled them eventually to act with increased readiness
and force upon that country. In this year, the direc-
tors of tho French Republic, beginning to be afraid of
the ambition of their general, Bonaparte, sent him at
the head of an expedition to reduce and colonise Egypt,
intending from that countrr to act against the British
empire in the East Indies. The expedition was success-
ful in its first object; but the fleet which had conveyed
it waa attacked iu Aboukir Bay, by Admiral Nelson
(Aurast 1), and almoet totally destroyed or raptured.
Wbuo fo much of th« itrangth of the Fienoh Mrmy wae

BI8T0BT OF OSEIT BBITAIir 110) ntELAND.

Ittui wolttdtd In h dUUuit country, th« •utern powtn
of Euro])* lhouf(h( they niltflit Ml'«ly recoinnieiict> war
with th« rapublic. AuitrU, Naplet, kn<i Kunift, foriiMtl
%eonMtnej for thk nurpoie; »nil llritalii, to luppijr
th* necttiary fundi, lubinlttcd to the Kfiavanca of an
inconia tax, amounting in gviieral to t«n par oant., in
addition to alt her pravioui burdani,

Tha naw cunfuderaoy wai lo luccaMful in 170!), aa
to radeatn tlia greator part of Italy. A Kuuian arin^,
undar tha famoui Huwarotf, aotad a prominent part in
the campai((n; but, in the eiiil, attempting tn expel the
FrHnoh from iiwitzerland, thia Urge force wat nearly
out to pieces in one of the defllet of that inountainoui
country. In Auguit of the same year, (Jraat Hritain
mada a oorreaponding attempt to expel the Krenrh
fh>m Holland. Thirty-flve thousand men, under the
Duka of York, formed the military part of the expedi-
tion. The fleet wai lucceatful at the flrit in taking the
Dutch ihipa; but the army, having landed under ttreia
of weather at an unfaTourable place for their opera-
tions, was obliged, after an abortive series of skirmishes,
to make an agreement with 'he French, purchasing
permiHion to go back to their country by the surrender
of 8000 prisoner* from England.

The reranes which France experienced in 1709,
were generally attributed to tho weakness of the Direc-
tory — a council of five, to which the uxecutivo had been
intrusted. Bonaparte suiidenly returned from his army
in Egypt, and, by a skilful iimnagement of his popula-
rity, overturned the Directory, aiid caused himself to
be appointed the sole depositary nf the oxeeutive power
of the state, under the denomination of First Consul.
He immediately wrote a letter to King George, making
overtures of peace, but was answered, by ttte British
■ecretary, that no dependence could be placed by Great
Britain on any treaty with France, unless her govern-
ment were again consolidated under the Bourbonit.
Bonapai'te, having much reason to wish for peace, made
a reply to this note, vindicating France from the charge
brought against her, of having commenced a system of
aggression inconsistent with tho interests of other states,
and asserting her right to choose her own government
— a point, he said, that could not decently be contested
by the minister of a crown which was held by no other
tenure. But tho British government was at this time
too much elated by the expulsion of tho French nriny
from Italy, and the late changes in the executr .-,
which, in their estimation, betokened weakness, to be
immediately anxious for peace.

Tho evients of 1800 were of a very different nature
from what had been calculated upon in England. Sir
Sidney Smith, who commanded the British forces in
Syria, had made a treaty with tho French army after
it had been left by Bonaparte, whereby it was agreed
that tho French should abandon Egypt, and retire
unmolested to their own country. The British govern-
ment, in its present temper, refused to ratify this ar-
rangement; and the consequence was a continuance of
hostilities. The French overthrew a largo Turkish
army at Grand Cairo, and made themselves more effec-
tually than ever the mastera of the country, so that
Britain was obliged to send an army next year, under
Sir Ralph Aborcromby, to accomplish, at au immense
expense, and a great waste of human life, what the
French had formerly agreed to do. In Europe, the
presence of Bonaparte produced equally disastrous re-
sults. By one of his most dexterous movenientB, he
eluded the Austrians, led an army over the Alps by
the Great St Bernard into tho Milanese, and having
gained decisive victory at Marengo (June 14), at once
restored the sweater part of Italy to French domina-
tion. Contemporaneously with Napoleon's movements,
Moreau led another army directly into Germany, over-
threw the Austrians in several battles, and advanced
to within seventeen leagues of their capital, Vienna.
These reverses obliged Austria next year (1801) to sue
for and conclude a peace, by which France became
miatrea of all continental Europe west of the Rhine
•ud Kuth of the Adige.

ar.BU.LION IK lARLAND— UNION WRH ORIAT DHITAIN.

Although the government had baan able, In 1783, to
pitKuru a dissolution of tha volunteer corpa, tha bulk
of the Irish |)eople continued to express tha most aiixloui
desire for such a reform in thair Parliament aa might
lander it a mora just representation of tho iiopular
voice. Unable to yield to tham on this point, Mr Pitt
endeavoured to api>aaM( tham by extending thair com-
mircial privileges ; but his wishes were frustrated,
chietly by the Jonlouiy of tho British merchants. A
strong feeling of discontent, not only with the govern-
ment, but with the Hritish connection, was thus engen-
dered in Ireland.

The commencement of the revolutionary proceeding!
in France excited the wildest hopes of the Irish. To .

wards the close of the year 1731, they formed an i
elation, under the title of the United Irishmen, compre-
hending persons of all religions, and designed to obtain
* a complete refonn of the legislature, founded on the
principles of civil, political, and religious liberty.' The
government from the first suspected this association of
meditating an overturn of the state, and took strong
measures for keeping it in check. Acts were passed
for putting down its meetings, a- id the secretary, Mr
Hamilton llowan, was tried, and Pdntcnceu to a flue and
two years' impriaonmont f>ir whui ivas termed a sedi-
tious libel. At tho same time, some concessions to the
popular spirit were deemed indispensable, and the Iriih
Parliament accordingly passed nets enabling Catholics
to iiitermarry with Protestantn, to (iractiso at tho bar,
and to educate their own children.

On discovering that a treasonable correspondencv
had been carried on with Franco by some leading per-
suna in the society of United Irishmen, the uoveniment
was so much ain.imed as to send (1704) a Whig lord-
lieutonant (Earl Fitzwilliam) to grant further conces-
sions; but ere anything had been done, the ministers
were persuaded by tho Protestant party to return to
their former policy. The patriotic party now despaired
of etfcctiiig any iniproveme:it by peaceable means, and
an extensive conspiracy was entered into for delivering
up Ireland to the French republic. The scheme waa
managed by a directory of five persons, and though
half a million of men were concerned in it, the moat
strict secrecy was preserved. In December 1706, a
portion of the fleet which had been fitted out by the
French to co-operate with the Irish patriots, landed at
Bantry Bay ; but measures for a rising of the people not
being yet ripe, it was obliged to return. Next year, the
losses ut Camperdown crippled the naval resources of
France, and prevented a renewal of the expedition.
Losing all hope of French assistance, the conspirators
resolved to act without it ; but their designs were be-
trayed by one Reynolds ; and three other members of
the directory, Emmett,Macnevin, and Bond, were seized.
Notwithstanding the precautionary measures which the
government was thus enabled to take, the Union per-
sisted in the design of rising on a fixed day. Lord
Edward Fitzgerald, another of its leaders, was then
arrested, and being wounded in a scuffle with his cap-
tors, soon after died in prison. On the 21st of May
1708, Lord Castlereagh, secretary to the lord -lieutenant,
disclosed the whole plan of insurrection, which had been
fised to commence on the '23d.

Though thus thwarted in their designs, and deprived
of their best leaders, the conspirators appeared in arms
in various parts of the country. Parties attacked Naas
and Carlow, but were repulsed with loss. A large party,
under a priest named Murphy, appeared in the county
of Wexford, and took the city of^ that name. Slight
insurrections about the same time broke out in the
northern counties of Antrim and Down, but were easily
suppressed. In Wexford alone did the insurgents ap-
pear in formidable strength. Under a priest named
Roche, a large party of them met and defeated a portion
of the government troops ; but on a second occasion,
though they fought with resolution for four hours, they
were compelled to retreat. Another defeat at New

167

OBAMBBBEPS INlOiatATION FOB f HE FEOFLE.

RoBB exaspewted them gcMtiy, md tome monstrom
cruelties were contequently pwctUed upon their pri-
■onert. On the 20th of June, their whole force waa
collected upon Vinegw HUl, near Ennieoorthy, where
Ml Hrmy of 13,000 men, with a proportionate train of
artillery, wa« brought againit theiu by General Lake,
They wore completely orerthrown and diapersec? . From
this time the rebellion languished, and in July it had
■0 far ceased to be formidable, that an act of amnesty
was passed in favour of all who had been engaged in
it, except the leaders.

On the 22d of August, when the rebellion had been
completely extinguished, 900 French, under General
Humbert, were landed at Killala, in the opposite ex-
tremity of the country from that in which the insurgents
had shown the greatest strength. Though too late to
be of any decisive effect, they gave some trouble to the
government. A much larger body of British troops,
under General Lake, met them at Castlebar, but re-
treated in a panic. They then advanced to the centre
of the country, while the lord-tieutcnant confessed the
formidable reputation which their countrymen had ac-
quired, by concentrating an immensely di»pToponioned
force against them. Ou the S*.h of September, they
were met at Carrick-on-Shannoii by this l&.'ge army,
to which they yielded themselves prisoners of war.

During the ensuing two years, the British ministers
exerted themselves to briig about an incorporatijig
union of Ireland with Great Britain; a measure to which
the Irish were almost universally opposed, but v uich,
by the use of bribes and government patronage libe-
rally employed amongst the members of the Irish legis-
lature, was at length effected. From the Ist of January
1801, the kingdom of Ireland formed an essential part
of the empire, ou which was now conferred the name
of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.
The act of Union secured to the Irish most of the com-
mercial privileges which they had so long sought. Upon
a comparison of the aggregate exports and imports of
the two countries, Ireland was to raise two parts of
revenue for every fifteen raised by Great Britain, during
the first twenty years of the Union, after which new
regulations were to be made by Parliament. One
hundred commoners were to be sent by Ireland to the
British (now called the Imperial) Parliament; namely,
two for each couu;y, two for each of the cities of Dub-
lin and Cork, one for the university, and one for each
of the thirty- one most considerable towns. Four lords
spiritual, by otation of sessions, and twenty-eight lords
temporal, elected for life by the Peers of Ireland, were
to sit i. the House of Lords.

The Union, though, upon the whole, effected in a spirit
of fairness towards Ireland, increased the discontent of
the people, which broke out in 1003 in a new insurrec-
tion. Under Robert Emmett and Thomas Russell, a
conspiracy was formed for seizing the seat of the vice-
government, and for this purpose a great multitude of
peasautry from the county of Kildare assembled (July
23) in Dublin. Disappointed in their attempt upon the
castle, they could ouly raise a tumult in the streets, in
the coarse of which Lord Kilwarden, a judge, and his
nephew, Mr Wolfe, were dragged from a carriage and
kille<l. The mob was dispersed by soldiery, and Em-
mett and Russell, beiiig seized, wore tried and executed.

CIlANOb OF MINlSTkV, AND PEACB.OP AMIENS, 1801.

At the commencement of 1801, Britain had not only
to lament this unexpected turn of fortune, but to reckon
among her enemies the whole of the northern states of
Ei'.rope, which had found it necessary to place them-
selves on a fViendly footing with Bonaparte, anu though
they did not declare war against Brifaiu, yet acted in
ti'-ica a manner as to render hostilities unavoidable.
Nelson uailcd in March with a large fleet for Copen-
hagen, and pruk'ed so successful .tgaiust the Danish
fleet, as to reduce that country to a state of neutrality.
The death of the Russian Kmperor Paul, which took
place at the same time, and the accession of Alexander,
who wa» friendly to Britcln, completely broke up the
160

northern confederacy. Yet the neat aohieYetnents 6f
France on the continent, joined to the distresses of a
famine which at this time bore hard on the British
people, produced a desire for that peace which, a year
before, might have been gained upon better terms.
With a view, apparently, to save the honour of Mr Pitt
and his friends, a new ministry was appointed under
Mr Addington, bv whom a peace was at length, in the
end of the year (IS^l)* concluded with France, which
was left in the state of aggraudisemAt which has just
been described.

The war of the French Revolution placed Great Bri-
tain in possession of a considerable number of islands
and colonies in the East and West Indies and elsewhere;
and while only two war ships had been lost on her
part, she had taken or destroyed 80 sail of the line, 181
frigates, and 224 smaller ships, belonging to the enemy,
together with 743 privrteers, 15 Dutch, and 7S Spanish
ships. The triumphs K,f the British fleets were indeed
numerous and splendid, and had the effect of keeping
the national commerce almost inviolate during the whole
of the war, while that of France was nearly destroyed.
There was, however, hardly the most trifling instance
of success by land ; and the expenses of the contest
had been enormous. Previously to 1793, the sup-,
plies usually voted by the House of Commons were
£14,000,000 ; but those for 1801 were £42,1 97,000— a
sum about double the amount of the whole, land-rent of
the country.

WAR OENEWED WITH FRANCE, 1803. — SUBSEQUENT EVENTS.

It was only one of the results of the war against
French independence, that France was led by the course
of events to place herself under the control of her chief
military genius. Napoleon Bonaparte; a man singularly
qualified for concentrating and directing the en<trgies
of a country in the existing condition of France, but
animated more by personal ambition than by any ex-
tended views of the good of his species. It was soon
manifest that Bonapa^ did not relish peace. By tak-
ing undue advantage of severU points left loose in the
treaty, he provoked Great Britain to retaliate by retain
iug possession of Malta; und the war was accordingly
recommenced in May 1 803. Britain immediately em-
ployed her superior naval force to seize the French
West India colonies; while France took possession of
Hanover, and excluded British commerce from Ham-
burg. Bonaparte collected an immense flotilla at
Boulogne, for the avowed purpose of invading England;
but so vigorous were the preparations made by the
whole British population, and so formidable the fleet
under Lord Nelson, that he never found it possible to
put his design in execution. In the year 1804, he was
elevated to the dignity of Emperor of the French ; and
France once more exhibited the formalities of a court,
though not of the kind which the European sovereigns
were anxious to see established. In April of the same
year, the Addington administration was exchanged for
one constructed by Mr Pitt, and of which he formed
the leader.

In 1805, under the fostering influence of Great Bri-
tain, a new coalition of European powers, consisting of
Russia, Sweden, Austria, and Naples, was formed
.gainst Napoleon. He, on the other hand, had drawn
Spain upon his side, and was making great exertions
for contesting with Britain tho empire of the sea. A
fleet of thirty -three sail, partly French and partly
Spanish, met a British fleet of twenty-seven, under
Nelson, off Cape Trafalgar, October 25, 1805, and was
completely beaten, though at tho expense of the life of
the British commander. Britain thus fixed perma-
nently her dominion over the seas and coasts of the
civilised world. At this time, however. Napoleon waa
asserting with equal success his supremacy over con-
tinental Europe. By a sudden, rapid, and unexpected
movement, he conducted an army into Germany, where
the Austrian! were already making aggressions upon
neutral territory. Ou the 17th October, he took the
fortrv. of Ulm, with its artillery, magazines, and gar-

HISTORY OF GREAT BMTAIlt AND iRELANt).

perma-
ks of the
Uaon was
Ivor con-
jszpected
ly, whera
Ini upon
Itook the
land gar-

riion of 80,000 men; a month after, he entered Vienna
without resiitanoe. He then pursued the royal family,
and the allied armies of Russia and Austria, into Mo-
ravia; and on the 2d of December liiU5, he gained
the decisive and celebrated victory of Austerlitz, which
put an end to the coalition, and rendered him the
dictator of the continent.

This series of events caused much gloom in the Bri-
tish councils, and with several other painful circum-
stances, among wMch was the impeachment of his col-
league Lord Melville, for malpractices in the Admiralty,
proved a death-blow to Mr Pitt, who expired on the
23d of January 1806, completely worn out with state
business, at the early age of forty-seven, half of which
time he had spent in the public service. Mr Pitt is
universally allowed the praise of high talent and pa-
triotism. But his policy has been a subject of dispute
between the two great political parties into which
British society is divided. By the Tories it is firmly
believed that his entering into the war against the
French Republic was the means of saving the country
from anarchy and ruin; by the Whigs, that this step
only tended to postpone the settlement of the afiairs of
France, and loaded Britain with an enormous debt. Of
the absence of all selfish views in the political conduct
of Mr Pitt, there can be lio doubt; for, so far from
accumulating a fortune out of the public funds, he left
some debts, which Parliament gratefully paid.

Mr Pitt's ministry was succeeded by one composed
of Lord Qrenville, Mr Fox, and their friends; it was
comprehensively called Whig, although Lord OgpMlle
was in every respect a Tory, except in his advocacy of
the claims of the Catholics for emancipation. In the
course of 1806, the new cabinet made an attempt to
obtain a peace from France, which now threatened to
bring the whole world to its feet. But the Qrenville
administration encountered serious difficulties from the
king, who never could I j induced to look with the least
favour on the Catholic claims, or those who advocated
them. Exhausted by his useless labours, Mr Fox died,
September 13, 1806. Few names are more endeared
to the British people than his, for, though the leader of
the Whigs, he never excited any rancour in his oppo-
nents. He was remarkable for his frankness and sim-
plicity. His abilities as a parliamentary orator and
statesman were of the first order, and he was invari-
ably the consistent and sincere friend .of popular rights.

A new coalition, excluding Au3'..ria, but involving
Prussia, had been subsidised by Britain, and was now
preparing to act. With his usual decision, Napoleon
led what he called his ' Grand Army ' by forced marches
into Prussia; gained, on the 14th of October, the battles
of Jena and Auerstadt, which at once deprived that
country of her army, her capital, and her fortresses;
and then proclaimed the famous * Berlin Decrees,' by
which he declared Great Britain in a state of blockade,
and shut the ports of Europe against her merchandise.
The king of Prussia, Frederick William III., took re-
fuge with his court in Russia, which now was the only
continental power of any importance that remained
unsubdued by France.

Towards that country Napoleon soon bent his steps,
taking, as he nent, assistance froni Poland, which he
promised to restore to independence. After a series of
skirmishes and battles of lesser iriportance, he met the
Russian army in great strength (June 14, 1807), at
Friedland, and gave it a total overthrow. He might
now have easily reduced the whole country, as he had
done Austria and Prussia; but ho contented himself
with forming a treaty (called the treaty of Tihit, from
the place where it was entered into), by which Russia
agreed to become an ally of France, and entered into
his views for the embarrassment of Britain by the
exclusion of her commerce from the continental porvs.
France had thus, in the course of a few years, dis-
armed the whole of Europe, excepting Graat Britain,
an amount of military triumph for which there was
no precedent in ancient or modem history.

The Qrenville administration was displaced in the

spring of 1807, in consequence of the difference l>etWeeil
its members and the king on the subject of the Catholic
claims, which had long l^en ui^ged by the Whig party,
with little support from the people. The nest ministnr
was headed by the Duke of Portlaud, and included Lonu
Hawkesbunr and Castlereagh (afterwards Earl of Liver-
pool and Marquis of Londonderry), and Mr Canning,
as secretaries; Mr Spencer Perceval being chancellor
of the exchequer. After being accustomed to the ser-
vices of such men as Pitt and Fox, the people regarded
this^ cabinet as one possessing comparatively little
ability. One of its first acts was the despatch of a
naval armament to Copenhagen to seize and bring
away the Danish shipping, which was expected . to be
immediately employed in subserviency to the designs
of France, and for the injury of Britain. The end of
the expedition was easily obtained; but it was the
means of lowering the honour of Britain in the estima-
tion of foreign powers.

FIB8T PENINSVLAU CAMPAIGN — SUBSEi^UEiri EVEKTS.

The retaliation of France, for the interferences of
other powers with its Revolution, even supposing such
retaliation justifiable, was now more than completed.
Further measures could only appear as dictated by a
desire of aggrandisement. But France was now given
up to the direction of a military genius, who had other
ends to serve than the defence of the country against
foreign aggression or interference. The amazing suc-
cesses of Napoleon had inspired him with the idea of
universal empire; and so great was the influence he had
acquired over the French, and so high their military
spirit, that the attainment of his object seemed by no
means imjwssible. There was a difterence, however,
between the opposition which he met with before this
period, and that which he subsequently encountered.
In the earlier periods of the war, the military opera-
tions of the Europeau powers were chiefly dictated by
views concerning the interests of governments, and in
which the people at large felt littb sympathy. Hence-
forth a more patriotic spirit rose everywhere against
Napoleon : he was looked upon in England and else-
where as the common enemy of humanity and of free-
dom ; and every exertion made for the humiliation of
France was animated by a sentiment of desperation, in
which the goTcmora and governed alike participated.

The Spanish peninsula was the first part of the pros-
trated continent '.here the people could be said to have
taken a decidedly hostile part against Napoleon. He
had there gone so far as to dethrone the reigning
family, and give the crown to his elder brother Joseph.
A sense of wrong and insult, mingled with religious
fanaticism, raised the Spanish people in revolt against
the F;eneh troops ; and though their conduct was
everywhere barbarous in the extreme, it was hailed
in Britain as capable of being turned to account. In
terms of a treaty entered into with a provisional govern-
ment in Spain, a small army was landed, August 8,

1808, in Portugal, which hod been recently t»ken pos-
session of by the French. Sir Ar*hur Wellesley, who
afterwards became so famous as Duke of Wellington,
was the leader of this force. In an engagement at
Vimeira, on the 2ist, he repulsed the French, under
Junot, who soon after agreed, by what was called the
Gouventior. of Cintra, to evacuate the country. Sir
Arthur being recalled, the British army was led into
Spain under the command of Sir John Moore ; but
this ofiicer found the reinforcements poured in by
Napoleon too great to be withstood, and accordingly,
in the end uf December, he commenced a disastrous,
though well-conducted retreat towards the port of
Corunna, whither he was closely pursued by Marshal
Soult. 'ihe British army suffered on this occasion
the severest hardships and losses, but did not expe-
rience a check in battle, or lose a single standard. In
a battle which took place at Corunna, January 16,

1809, for the purpose of protecting the embarkation of
the troops. Sir John Moore was killed.

Much of the public attention was abuul this time

169

OBAMBBBffS IMTOBMAHOM FOB TfiB PEOPtlS.

•lunKMMd by oiwunwtMicM in th« pri«t« life of the
eldeik ion of the king. The Prince of W»le« h»d been
tempted, in 1798, by the pro«p«^ •'''•*!!"« "" i.*'**
debU paid by the nation, to many the Princen Caro-
line of Brunswick, for whom he entertained no real
afibotion. Almoat ever since the marriage, he had
■hown the moet marked disrespect for his consort, who
oonseqnentlr lived separate from him, and was herself
considered by many as not altogether blameless in
her conduct as a matron.

In 1809, Austria was induced once more to com-
mence war with France. Upwards of half a million of
men were brought into the field, under the command of
(he Archduke Charles. Bonaparte, leaving Spain com-
paratiToly open to attack, moved rapidly forward into
Germany, and, by the victory of Eckmlihl, opened up
the way to Vienna, which surrendered to him. After
gaining a slight advantage at Essling, the archduke
came to a second decisive encounter at Wagram, where
the strength of Austria was completely broken to
pieces. The peace which succeeded was sealed by the
marriage of Napoleon to Maria Louisa, daughter of the
emperor of Austria, for which purpose he divorced
his former wife Josephine.

In the autumn of 1809, the British government de-
spatched an armament of 100,000 men, for the purpose
of securiue a station which should command the navi-
gation of the Scheldt. The expedition was placed under
the command of the Earl of Chatham, elder brother of
Mr Pitt, a nobleman totally unacquainted with military
affairs on such a scale. The army, having disembarked
on the insalubrious island of Walcheren, was swept off
in thousands by disease. The survivors returned in
December without having done anything towards the
object for which they set out. This tragical affair be-
came the subject of inquinr in the House of Commons,
which, by a majority of 272 against 232, vindicated the
manner in which the expedition had been managed.

8VCCKSSK8 OF \\ i.i.LINOTON IN Sl'AIN.

A new expedition in Spain was attended with better
fuccess. Taking advantage of the absence of Napoleon
in Auitkia, a considerable array was landed, April 23,
1809, under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley,
who immediately drove Soult out of Portugal, and
then made a rapid move upon Madrid. King .Joseph
advanced with a considerable force under the command
of Marshal Victor; and on the 28th of July, attacked
the British and Spanish troops in a strong position at
Talavera. The contest was obstinate and sanguinary;
and though the French did not retreat, the advantage
lay with the British. As this was almost the first suc-
cess which Britain experienced by land in the course
of the war. Sir Arthur Wellesley became the theme of
universal praise, and he was elevated to a, i)cerage,
under the title of Viscount Wellington of Talavera.
He was obliged immediately to fall back upon Portugal,
where he occupied a strong position near Santarem.

Early in 1810, Napoleon reinforced the army in
Spain, and gave orders to Massena to ' drive the Bri-
tish out of the Peninsula.' Wellington posted Lis troops
on the heights of Busaco — eighty thousand in number,
including Portuguese — and there, on the 27th of Sep-
tember, was attacked by an equal number of Frencli.
Both British and Portuguese behaved well: the French
were repulsed with great loss, and for the first time in
the war, conceived a respectful notion of the British
troops, Wellington now retired to the lines of Torres
Vedras, causing the whole country to be desolated as
he went, for the purpose of embarrassing the French.
When Alassena observed tlio strength of the British
position, he hesitated ; and ultimatuly, in the spring of
1811, performed a disastrous and harassed retreat into
the Spanish territory.

It now became an object of importance with Welling-
ton to obtain possession of the Spanish fortresses which
had been seized by the French. On the 22d of April,
he reconnoitrad Badajos, and soon after laid siege to
Almeida. Mitwena, otlraucing to raise (he liege, was
179

met on fair.termi at Fuentei d'Onoro, May 5, and
repulsed. Almeida consequently fell into the hands of
the British. General Bereiford, at the head of another
body of British foroea, gained the bloody battle of Al-
buera over Soult, and thereby protected the siege of
Badajos, which, however, waa loon after abandoned.
During the same season. General Graham, in command
of a third body of troops, gained the battle of Baroisa.
At the end of a campaign, in which the French were
upon the whole unsuoceMful, Welwgton retired once
more into Portugal.

8IE F. BURDBTI — THE RKOENCT.

The exclusion of strangers from the House of Com-
mons during the inquiries into the Walcheren expe-
dition, had been made a subject of discussion in a
debating club, the president of which was therefore
committed to Newgate for a breach of privilege. Sir
Francis Burdett, member for Westminster, miule this
proceeding the subject of some acrimonious remarks in
a letter to his constituents, denying the right of the
House of Commons to imprison without trial, and
describing that body as ' a part of our fellow-subjects,
collected together by means which it is not necessary
for me to descrilie.' The letter was voted a libel on
the House, and a warrant was issued by the speaker for
committing Sir Francis to the Tower. Sir Francis,
denying the legality of the warrant, resisted its execu-
tion by remainmg in his own house, where he was pro-
tected from the officers by immense crowds of people.
AM^kuffering a kind of siege fo% two days, he was
forcibly taken by % large train of soldiers, and lodged
in the Tower. By these proceedings, the capital wau
convulsed for several days; and in the course of the
tumults which took place, a number of lives were lost.

The intellect of the king, which hod experienced
several temporoiy aberrations, gave way at the close of
the year 1810, and rendered the appointment of a
regent unavoidable. Accordingly, in December, the
Parliament imposed that duty upon the Prince of
Wales, though under certain restrictions as to the ap-
pointmeu'-' of officers, and other branches of the royal
prerogative. The Tory party had not now the same
reason to dread the accession of the prince which they
had in 1789. His sentiments on the Catholic claims,
originally favourable, had in 1804 experienced a decided
change, which proved the means of alienating him from
the Whigs, with whom Catholic emancipation was a
leading principle. Though he did not at first show any
disinclination to take his old friends into the ministry,
ho contrived, when the first year of restriction had
elapsed, to let them remain in their wonted etate of
opposition, without seeming to have desired it.

EVENTS OF 1811, 1812, AND 1813.

The year 1811 was regarded as the period of greatest
depression and distress which the British empire had
known for several ages. At this time, with the excep-
tion of an uncertain footing gaineil in Spain, the influ-
ence of England was unknown on the continent. Bona-
parte seemed as firmly seated on the throne of France
as any of her former raonarchs, while every other civi-
lised European kingdom either owned a monarch of his
express appointment, or was in some other way sub-
ser\'ient to him. By the Berlin and Milan decrees, he
ha<l shut the ports of the continent against British
goods, so that they could only be smuggled into the
usual markets. By British order* in council, which,
though intended to be retaliatory, only increased the
evil, no vessel l>e]onging to a neutral power — such, for
instance, as the United States — was permitted to carry
goods to those ports, unless they should previously land
and pay a dutv in Britain. Thus the nation at once
suffered from the shortsighted despotism of the French
emperor, and from its own narrow and imperfect views
of commerce ; for, by embarrasaing America, it ">nly
deprived itself of one of its best and almost sole re-
maining customer!.

The power of Bonaparte, thouah suddsa in U« risei

mSTORT OF OBEAT BBCTAIK AND IBfiLAKO.

Lipiie had
the excep-
|the influ-
:it. Bona-
3f Franco
bther civi-
Irch of his
1 wajr Bub-
lecrees, he
lit British
into the
tl, which,
poied the
-Buch, for
to carry
lusly land
at once
ke French
Feet views
\, it -inly
Bole to-

: lit rise.

tnight have been pwmaiMnt if managed with diacretion.
It wan used, howerer, in BUch a way a« to produce a
powerful reaction throughout Europe in favour of those
ancient iuBtitutions, which, twenty yearB before, had
been threatened with ruin. The exclusion of British
goods — a meaiure which he had dictated in resentment
against England — proved the source of great distress,
oppression, and hardship throughout the continent,
and was greatly instrumental in exciting a spirit of hos-
tility againat him.* The very circumBtance of a foreign
power domineering over their native princes, raised a
feeling in favour of those personages, which, being
identified with the cause of national independence,
acted as a very powerful stimulant. On the other hand,
a sense of the erasping ambition of Napoleon — of his
hostility to real freedom — of his unscrupulousness in
throwing away the lives of his subjects for his o?ni per-
sonal aggrandisement — had for some time been gaining
ground in France itself.

In 1812, when the transactions in Spain had already
somewhat impaired Napoleon's ;:eputation, Alexander,
Emperor of Russia, ventured upon a defiance of his
decrees against British merchandise, and provoked him
to a renewal of the war. With upwards of half a mil-
lion of troops, appointed in the best manner, he set out
for that remote country, determined to reduce it into
peifect subjection. An unexpected accident defeated
all his plans. The city of Moscow, after being possessed
by the French troops in September, was destroyed by
incendiaries, so that no shelter remained for them dur-
ing the ensuing winter. Napoleon was obliged to re-
treat ; but, overtaken by the direst inclemency of the
season, his men perished by thousands in the snow. Of
his splendid army, a mere skeleton regained central
Europe. Returning almost alone to Paris, he contrived
with great exertions M reinforce his army, though there
was no replacing the veterans lost in Russia.

Early in 1813, he opened a campaign in' northern
Cierroany, where the emperor of Russia, now joined
by the king of Prussia and various minor powers, ap-
peared in the open field against him. After various
successes on both sides, an armistice was agreed to on
the 1st of June, and Bonaparte was offered peace on
condition of restoring only that part of his dominions
which he had acquired since 1805. Inspired with an
overweening confidence in his resources and military
genius, he refused these terms, and lost all. In August,
when the armistice was at an end, his father-in-law, the
emperor of Austria, joined the allies, whose forces now
numbered 500,000 men, while an army of 300,000 was
the largest which Napoleon could at present bring into
the field. Henceforth he might be considered as over-
powered by numbers. By steady, though cautious
movements, the allies advanced to France, driving him
reluctantly before them, and increasing their own force
as the various states became emancipated by their pre-
sence. At the close of 1813, they rested upon the fron-
tiers of France, while Lord Wellington, after two suc-
cessful campaigns in Spain, had advanced in like manner
to the Pyrenees.

HOME AFFAIRS. — WAB WITH AMERICA.

Some changes had in the meantime taken place in
the British administration. On the 11th of May 1812,
the premier, Mr Perceval, was shot in the lobby of the
House of Commons, by a man named Bellinghain, whom
some private losses had rendered insane. LordH Liver-
pool and Castlereagh then became the ministerial leaders
In the two Houses of Parliament, but were i,uickly
voted down by a majority of four, upon a motion made
bjy Mr Stuart Wortley, afterwards Lord Wharncliffe.
The ministry was finally rendered satiBfactory to Par-
liament by the admission of Earl Ilarrowby as presi-
dent of the council, Mr V*nsitti\rt as chancellor of the
exchequer, and Loid SidmoutK (formerly premier while
Mr Addington) as secretary for the home dep.\rtment ;
Lord Liverpool continuing as premier, and Lord Castle-
reaeh as foreign and war sccretaiy.

Notwithstanding the successes which were ut this

period brightening the prospects of Britain, the rtMnt
and his ministers did not enjoy much popularity. The
regent himself did not possess those domestic rirtuei
which are esteemed by the British people, and he had
excited much disapprobation by the steps which he
took for fixing a criminal charge upon hiB consort. The
general discontents were increased by the efiects of
the orders in council, for prohibiting the commerce of
neutral states. Vast multitudes of working people
were thrown idle by the stagnation of manufacturei,
and manifested their feeiii'gs in commotion and riot.
The middle clataes expressed their dissatisfaction by
clamours for parliamentary reform.

At this unhappy crisis, provoked by the orders in
council, as well as by a right assumed by British war-
vessels to search for and impress English sailors on
board the commercial shipping of the United States,
that country (June 1812) declared war against Britain.
Before the news had reached London, the orders had
been revoked by the influence of Lord Liverpool ; but
the Americans, nevertheless, were too much incensed
to retrace their steps. During the summer and autumn,
several encounters took place between single American
and British ships, in which the former were successful.
It was not till June 1, 1813, when the Shannon and
Chesapeake met on equal terms, that the British ex-
perienced any naval triumph in this war with a kindred
people. On land, the Americans endeavoured to annov
the British by assaults upon Canada, but met with
no decisive success. The British landed several expe-
ditions on the coast of the States; and were successful
at Washington, at Alexandria, and at one or two other
points, but experienced a bloody and disastrous repulse
at New Orleans. The war ended, December 1814, with-
out settling any of the principles for which the Ameri-
cans had taken up arm's. But while thus simply use-
less to America, it was seriously calamitous to Britain.
The commerce with the States, which amounted in
1807 to twelve millions, was interrupted and nearly
ruined by the orders in council, and the hostilities
which they occasioned : henceforth America endea-
voured to render herself commercially independent of
Britain, by the encouragement of native manufactures
— a policy not immediately advantageous perhaps to
herself, but deo'dedly injurious to Great Britain. The
fatal effects ot' ^l^f Berlin and Milan decrees to Napo-
leon, nnd of . 1 ' rders in council to the interests of
Britwn, show in ,i extremely dangerous it is for any
goveinraent to Interfere violently with the large com-
mercial system"^ upon which the immediate interests of
their subjects depend.

I'EACE OP 1814 — SUDSKQUKNT EVENTS.

At Tu .'lose of 1813, it w»,s cv'dent that Bonaparte
couid hardly defend himself agaiiiat the vast armaments
colltoted on all hands against him. Early in 1814,
having impressed almost every yo^.th capable of beam-
ing anns, he opposed the allie. on the frontiers with a
force ihiAch less numerous mid worse disciplined. Even
now he was oficred peace, on condition that he should
only retain Friince as it existed before the Revolution.
But this proposition was too humiliating to his spirit to
be accepted ; and he entertained a hope that, at the
worst, his father-in-law, the emperor of Austria, would
not permit him to be dethroned. Two months were
spent in almost incessant conflict with the advancing
allies, who, on the 30th of March, entered Paris in
triumph ; and in the course of 'v few days, ratifiea a
treaty with Napoleon, by which he agreed to resign the
government of Franco, and live for the future as only
sovereign of Elba, a small island in the Mediterranean.

In the measures for settling France, Great Britain
concurred by her representative Lord Castlereagh, who
attended the allies during the campaign of 1814; and
peace w.as proclaimed in London on the 20th of June.
Fraucft was deprived of all the acquisitions gained
both under the Republic and the Empire, and restored
to the rule of the ancient royal family in the person of
Louie XVIII. Tha emporor of Ruswa and the king of

171

CHAMBBBS'S INFORKAWON FOR THE PEOPLE.

Prussia Viiited England in June, and were revived I
with all tbj honours due to men who were considered
as the libe.-ators of Europe. Wellington, now created
ft duke, rbCJiTed a grant of £400,000 from the House
of Commons, in addition to one of £100,000 pre-
viously Toted; and had the honour to receive in per-
son the thanks of the House for his services. Repre-
sentatives from the European powers concern <■ in the
war mot at Vienna, October 2, in order to settle the
disturbed limits r' he various countries, and provide
against the nr «rai of a period of war so disastrous.
Throughout the ;^hole arrangements. Great Britain
acted with a disinterested magnanimity, which, after
her great sufferings and expenses, could hardly have
been looked for, but was highly worthy of the eminent
name which she bore amidst European nations.

In March 1815, the proceedings of the Congress
wore interrupted by intelligence that Napoleon had
landed in Fr"""- ^^i .as advancing in triumph to the
capital. He hu sen encouraged by various favourable
circumstances to at^.empt the recovery of his throne;
and so unpopulai- 'jnfl tho ni-W guvemmert already be-
come, that, th(.> tfh hr" landud with only u few men, he
was every arh«re re'"'nved with aflsction, and on the
20th of March wi duiftat'' in u.j capital, which had
that morning 'a;oi eft by Liouis Will. The latter
sovereign hid grant. . iv ^ho.iler to his peoplu, by which
he and his succei? ''rti were bound to rule under certain
restrictions, and -ith a legislature composed of two
chambers, somewhui lescr.'bliiig the Dritish Ileuses of
Parliament. Bonaparte now came unde~ sinular en-
gagements, and even submitted to take the votes of the
nation fi<r liis restoration ; on which occasion he liad a
million und a-half of ailiruiutire, against less than half
a million of negative voices, the votir.g being performed
by ballot. His exertions to reorganise an army were
successful to a decree which showed hia extraordinary
influence over the French nation. On the 1st of June
he had .559,000 eficctive men under anus, of whom
217,000 werj ready to take the field.

A Prussian army of more than 100,000 men, un'ler
Blucher, and one af about 80,000 British, Germans,
and BelgianB, under Wellington, were quickly rendez-
voused in the iv'etherl&nds, while »till larger armies "f
Austrians and Russians, making the whole force above
1,000,000, weie rapidly aj-i/roaching. These professed
to make war, not on France, but agi> .>' lionaparte
alone, whom thsy denounced as having, J y liis brci'ch
of the treaty, * placed himself out of the pale of civil
and E3cial relations, and incurred the penally o'' sum-
mary execution.' Kapolei>n, knowing that his ineinies
would accumulate foster in proportion than his own
troops, crossed the frontier on the 14th of June, with
120.000 men, resolved to fight Blucher and Wellington
scpui-ately, if possible. The ra^ idity "f his movements
prevented that concert betv/eea the Prussiau and Ene-
lish generals which it was their interest to cstaijlish.
On the IGth, he beat Blucher at I-'piy, and compelled
him to retire. He had at the same time intrusted to
Marshal Ney the duty "f cutting off all connection be-
tween the two hostile armies. His policy, though not
fully acted up to by hia marshals, wos so far '■'locessful,
that Blucher retired upon a point nearly a d^^y's march
from the forces of Wellington.

After Bonio further fighting next day. Napoleon
brought his whole forces to bei'.r, on the 18th, sgainst
Wellington alore, who had d-awn u;. his troops aauss
the road to Brussels, n-'ur a place callsii Waterloo. The
battle ccnsistuil of a constant succession of attacks by
the French \i])m> thi: British lines. Thetio assaults
were attondci; with great Lloo'lshed, but nevertheless
resisted with the utmost fortitude, till the evening,
when Blucher came up or, the left flank of the British,
and turned the d'iilc against the French, who hod now
to opei-ate laterally, as well as in front. The fiiJlure of
a final charge by Niijjnleoii's reserve to proi'uco any
impression or. (Le two armien, decided the day agaiitst
him: hi* baftl'i' and broken homt retired before a furious
chargo of the Prusijian ciiVftlry, who cut tUem down
'73

■mmercifully. On hii return to Paris, Napoleon made
hi efibrt to restore the confidence of his' chief counsel-
lors, but in vain. After a fruitless abdication in favour
of his son, he retired on board a small vessel at Roch-
fort, with the intention of proceeding to America; but
being captured by a Biitish ship of war, he was con-
demned by his triumphant enemies to perpetual con-
iinement on the island of St Helena, in the Atlantic,
where he died in 1821.

Louis XVlll. was now restore*', and the arrange-
ments of the Congress of Vienna were completed. The
expenses of Great Britain during this last year of hos-
tilities exceeded seventy millions ; and the national debt,
which in 17!>3 had been £230.000,000, now amounted
to the vast sum of £860,000,000.

During the latter yean of Napoleon, a reaction hi>d
taken place throughout Europe against the innovatory
doctrines which, by producing the French Revolution,
had been the cause, innocent or guilty, of so much
ruinous warfare. Encouraged by this sentiment, the
sovereigns of Austria, Prussia, and Russia, had no
sooner settled the nevf government of France, than they
entered, September 26, 1815, into a personal league or
bond for assisting; each other o'l all occasions when any
commotion should take piu~» .^^laong their respective
subjects. This treaty was comj. , je-i in somewhat ob-
scoire terms ; and from its professing religion to be the
^'ile proper guide * in the counsels of princes, in con-
f;olidating human institutions, and remedying their im-
pel. ections,' it obtained the name of the Holy Alliance.
It was published at the end of the year, and communi-
cated to the Prince Regent of England, who approved
of, but did not accede to it.

The reaction had also its effect in Great Britain, in
fixing the power of the aristocracy, which, by composing
the whole of the Upper IIji;s4ij and influencing the
election of a major part of the Lower, might be said to
constitute the government. The security of this pre-
dominatuig power was indicated by several acts in which
their peculiar interests were consulted. In the preced-
ing year, an act had been passed for prohibiting the
importation of grain from the continent, when the price
in this country should be less than eighty shillings per
quarter. An attempt to continue the income and pro-
perty taxes, which pressed with the greatest severity on
the wealthy and landrd cksses, was also negatived.

THE PRINCESS CIIAaLOTTE—HOPUL-^R TUMULTS.

In May 1816, the Princ ss Charlotte, only child of
the Prince Regent, was married to Prince I.ieopold of
Saxe-Cobuig, a young officer who had gained her affec-
tions when attending the allied sovereigns at the British
court. In November 1817, to the inexpressible grief
of the whole nation, iu<i young princess died, imme-
diately after having given birth to a dead son.

In August II! 16, a British armament under Lord
Exmouth l)ombarded Algiers, and reduced that pira-
tical state to certain desirable conditions respecting the
treatment of Christian prisoner.

The year 1816, and the four following yearci, vviil
always bo memorable as au epoch of extraordinary
di!<tres3, affecting almost every class of the community,
''he libaration of European commerce at the ead of the
war produced a proportionate diminution of that trade
which England had previously enjoyed, through her
exclusive possession of the seas. While all public bur-
dens continued at their former nominal an>3unt, the
prices of evciy kind of produce, a.ad of every kind of
goods, had fiilien far below the unnatural level to which
a state of w'^r and of paper money had raised them ;
and hence the expenses of the late contest, which had
never been felt in the fictitious prosperity then preva-
lent, came to prcRS with groat severity upon the national
rescurccs, at a time when there wa« niucii less ubility
to biar the burcleu. To complete the miaery of the
country, tire crops of 1816 fell far ohort of the usual
quantity, aud the price of hroaii was increased to an
amount >noK! tliau double that which bos gmce been
ths bireruge rate.

HISTORY OP GREAT BRITAIN AND IREEAND.

len preva-
n»ti<>T)Hl
tes ebility
;ry of the
the usual
seel to an
ince been

Tumultuary proceedings took place in various parti
of the country; and a desire for a reform in the House
of Commons, which was supposed to be the only means
of reducing the public exp^ nditure, began to take deep
root among the lower orders, and produced tumultuary
excesses in the metropolis. The government then
adopted expedients for counteracting the force of the
popular spirit. They endeavoured to make it appear
that an extensive conspiracy had been formed for the
overthrow of the government. Of the four rioters
charged with high treason, a conviction was obtained
only against one. Such unanimity, howe . er, prevailed
between the ministry and the Parliament, that, at the
close of February (1817), an act was passed for the
suspension of the liabr,^ Coi-pus Act. A considerable
number of persons were imprisoned, and detained for
some time at the will of the ministers.

A temporary revival of prosperity occurred in 1818,
but was q uckly followed by renewed distress. In the
autumn oi 1819, the misery of the working-classes had
reached its greatest height, and still parliamentary
reform was demanded as the only measure which could
permane.itly improve their prospects. On the 12th of
July, at a public meeting in the unrepresented town of
Birmingham, an attorney was elected to proceed to
Westmmster, and openly claim to be received as a
member of Parliament. On the ICth of August, a vast
body of operatives assembled at ManchesttT,iu an open
space of ground called St Peter's Field, for a similar
purpose, though professedly to petition for parliameiN
tary reform. As they came in regular array, bearing
banners with inscriptions, the magistrates professed to
consider the meeting as dangerous to the public peace,
and accordingly, ere the proceedings were far advanced,
a body of troops, consisting chiefly of yeomanry, dashe.l
into the mass, trampling down many persons of both
sexes under the horses' feet, and killing and wounding
others with their sabres. The meeting was dispersed
by these means, and Messrs Hunt and Johnston, the
principal orators, were apprehended. The tragic nature
of this event, and its appearing as an invasion of the
popular right of meeting for redress of grievances,
produced some marks of public resentment; but the
magistrates who conducted the attack received the
immediate and cu'dial thanks of the government.

When Parliament reassembled in November, there
was an evident increase of attachment to the ministry;
and, in addition to the strong measures already taken
for suppressing popular discontent, acts were passed to
suppress unstamped political publications, to prevent
secret training to arms, and to restrict the right of call-
ing a public meeting to magistrates.

The year 1819 was reraai'kable, among other things,
for the provision made, by act of Parliament, for the
resumption of cash payments at the bank.

On the 20th of January 1820, George III. died at
Windsor, in his eighty-second year, without having
experienced any lucid interval since 1810. The Prince
Regent was immediately proclaimed as Oeouue IV.;
but there was no other change to mark the connnciicc-
ment of a new reign. / few days after the decease of
George III., the Duke of Kent, his fourth fiin, died
suddenly, leaving an inf^int daughter, Victurin, with a
very near piospect to the throne.

MISCELLANEOUS CinCUMSTANCES FROM 1790 TO 1820.

Owing to the superiority of Britain at sea, she wns
able to preserve her commerce during the war, while
that of Fiance was comparatively ruined. This circum-
stance, combined with the remarkable effects of nmchi-
iiery in various manufactures, and the great improve-
ments efTecte'l In agriculture, maintained tlic prosperity
of the country during a contest Mhieh otherwise mutt
have sunk her as low as it did Austria and Prusain.
Tiio value nf the experts, which had been fifteen mil-
lions ir. ]', 60, and had .;n/v advanced to twenty in 1790,
was, in 1002,/o.-/^-«i.»: mtflmu.

This period ia above all things memorable for the
introduction cf the use of ateum iu navigation. A

model vessel, with a small steam-engine on board, was
tried in 1788 by Mr Patrick Miller of Dalswinton in
Dumfriesshire. Soon after, 4 vesMl on a larger scale
was exhibited in perfect action on the Forth and Clyde
Cana). The idea fell asleep for a few years, but was
revived by Mr Fulton, an American, who, in 1807, set
agoing a steam-vessel on the Hudson River, the first in
the world which was regularly employed in conveying
passengers. In 1812, Mr Henry Bell of Helensburgh
launched a similar vc?s>^l on the Clyde, being the firsb
seen in Europe; and from that period steam -vessels
quickly became nunvituus. Their superiority, m pro-
pellint,' Tccsels withuut regard to wind or tide, was iu
time universall;^ acknowledged; and ultimately they
have been used in voyag'.'a across large oceans.

In this period, uonsidorable efforts were made for the
more general education of the people. Sunday schools,
first suggested by Mr Raikes of Gloucester, overspread
the whole country, and proved the means of instruct-
ing many children who otherwise would have remained
altogether ignorant. A plan of teaching great numbers
of children, by employing the best pupils as raonitora
or assistants, was originated by I^r Bell and Mr Joseph
Lancaster, and widely introduced. Two great socie-
ties wore formed for the pui-pose of setting up and sup-
porting schools in the districts where they were most
needed. This period also beheld the rise of various
societies, whose object it was to send missionaries to
convert the heathen in distant lands, and to dissemi-
nate Bibles both at home and abroad. Great efforts
were at the same time made in Britain to put an end
to slavery in the AVest India colonies.

The latter part of the reign of George III. was also,
distinguished by great improvements in the dress and
social condition of the people. Old fashions gradually
disappeared, and the more simple and agreeable cos-
tume of the present day came into use. In the year
1750, cocked hats, wigs, swords, and buckles, werei
generally worn, and all gentlemen used hair powder.
From the year 1790 to about 1800, these and many
other oililities completely disappeared. Speedy travel-
ling by stage-coaches, and the rapid transmission of
letters by niail-can'iagcs, became at the same time
general iu all parts of the United Kingdom.

At no perica did a more brilliant class of literary
men oxist. Poetry ;issuraed new and attractive forms ia
the works of Campbell, Moore, Southey, Wordsworth,
Byron, and Scott. Tlic nov"! or fictitious tale was
advanced to a dignity it liad never known before, in
consequence of the production, by Sir Walter Scott, of
a series of such compositions, in the highest degree dra-
matic and entertaining. In the Edinburgh and Quar-
terly Reviews, periodical criticism acquired an impor-
tance it never before possessed. At the same time, the
more grave walks of divinity, history, and travels, were
filled by respectable body of writers. Tlic name of
Sir Humphry Davy stands pre-eminent in science,
which was also cultivated with distinguished success
by Wollaston, Leslie, Playfair, and Robison. In philo-
sophical literature, the names of Dugald Stewart and
Thomas Brown merit peculiar respect.

HEION OF GEORQE IV.

At the time when f'eorge IV. commenced his reign,
the Manchester affair and the recent proceedings of
the ministry, lioil inspired a small bana of desperate
men with the design of assassinating the ministers at a
cabinet dinner, and Ihcreafter attempting to set them-
selves up as n provlgii./ial government. On the J3d of
February IflUO, lliey were surprised by the police in
their place of meeting, and, after a desperate resist-
ance, five were seized, among whom one Thistlewood
was the cliief. These wi chod men were tried for high
troasnii, and executed. Nearly about the same time,
an attempt was made by the workmen in the west of
Scotland to bring about some alteration in the state;
and two nicn were executed.

On the accession of the king, his consort's name had
j been omitted from th'j liturgy. Thifl aud other indig-

173

CHAMBEBS'S IMPORMATIOlf FOR THE PEOPLE.

nities induced her to return ftom » Toluntwy exlla in
lUlj, June 1820, to tlie great embMrawment of the
king and Iiit ininiitew. Her miyeity, who had long
been befriended by the Opposition, wa» received by
the people with the warmert expresaione of sympathy.
Whaterer had been blanieable in her conduct wag over-
looked, on acco!int of the greater licentiousneBS of life
aioribed to her huiband, and the persecutions which
•he had suffered for twenty-four years. The king, who
had established a system of observation round her
mitjestv during her absence from the country, caused
a bill of pains and penalties against her to be brought
(July 6) into the House of Lords, which thus l)ecame
a court for her trial. Messrs Brougham and Denman,
who afterwards attained high judicial stations, acted as
counsel for her majesty, and displayed great dexterity
and eloquence in her defence. The examination of
witnesses occupied several "reeks; and nothing was left
undone which might promise to confirm her majesty's
guUt. But no evidence of criminality could soften the
indignation with which almost all classes of the com-
munity regarded <'!ii prosecution. Though the bill
was read a seconr ■'■' u- uy a majority of 28 in a house
of 218, and a thira ii:ae by 108 against 99, the govern-
ment considered it expedient to abandon it, leaving
the queen and h . ,>.'i> i jans triumphant.
In Jul} 1 **"'' , '' .' .onation of George IV. took place
m^taiices >.f great splendour. On this occa-
. :i ni)vJ'j an attempt to enter Westminster
' ^ |;n ^so of witnessing the ceremony, but
Y the military officers who guarded the
''ave such a shock to her health,
a few days. During the month

under d

sion, the '

Abbey, fr

waa repel

door; < n insult w'

as to cause her d' a

of August, the Lrj paid a visit to Ireland, where he
was received with much cordiality by all classes of that
excitable people, notwithstanding his known hostility
to the Catholic claims. In September, he paid a visit
to the kingdom of Hanover. In August of the ensuing
year, he completed this series of visits by a voyage to
Scotland, where, owing to the novelty of the occasion,
and the historical association!) which it was the means
of awakening, he was also received with extreme kind-
ness. During his absence In Scotland, his leading mi-
nister, the Marquis of Londonderry (formerly Lord
Castlereagh), put an end to his own life, in consequence
of a morbid sense of the difficulty of his position in re-
gard to continental affairs. The successor of the Mar-
quis of Londonderry in the direction of foreign affairs
was Mr George Canning, who had quitted the cabinet
two years before on account of the prosecution of the
queen, and was at this time preparing to leave tLe
country as governor-geneial of India. Mr Canning
was a statesman of enlightened and humane spirit,
and among other popular qualities, possessed a rich
and classical style of parliamentary eloquence.

JOINT-STOCK MANIA — COMMRRCIAl. (.MBAARASSHENTS.

The'twiJteiisuing years were characterised by an ex-
traordinarjractivity in almost all departments of trade
and commerce. Mr Huskissoii, an able commercial
miiiister introduced by Mr Canning, originated several
measures highly important; especially the repeal of all
duties on goods passing between Great Britain and
Ireland — an alteration m the duties affecting the silk
manufacture — the repeal of the combination laws, and
of the law against the emigration of artisans ; while
the executive formed commercial treaties, on the reci-
procity system, wifi "itriou" countries of Europe; and,
acknowleilging tae indepent'ence of the revolted Spanish
colonies in America, drew t, lem as additional customers
into the British market.

Capital now so far excee' cd the ordinary means of
its employment, that many . oint-stock companies were
formed, as a means of giving it a wider range than that
to which it was usually limit >d. Some of these associ-
ations professed objects which were by long-cerablished
usage the proper business of individuals alone, and
others involved hazardous and visionary projects, which
nrere to b« earned into effect in lemoto countries. The

;7<

depretsed itate of trade in 1821 md 1822, had led to a
diminished importation and production of goods, and
been succeeded by an advance of prices in 1823, The
consequence was a sudden and unusually active demand,
and a powerful reaction of supply, which did not cease
till production had far exceeded the bounds of modera-
tion. Through the facilities afforded by large issues of
paper money, tho delusion was kept up longer than it
would otherwiie have been. The first symptom of
somothing being wrong, was the turning of the exchanga
against England. A diminution of issues at the bank
followed. Merchants began to feel a difiSculty in an-
swering pecuniary obligations. Then took place a run
upon the banks, some of which, both in London and in
the country, were obliged to stop payment. Between
October 1825 and February 1826, fifty-nine commis.
sions of bankruptcy were issued against English country
banks, and four times the number of private composi-
tions were calculated to take place during the same
period. While the merchant and manufacturer were
without credit, their inferiors were without employ-
ment, and distress reached almost every class of the
community. Some liberal pecuniary measures on the
part of the Bank of England, helped '. a a short time,
rather by inspiring confidence than i-y actual disburse-
ment of money, to retrieve in some measure the am<
barrasse*! circumstances of the country,

CANNINO'S ADHINISTBATION — CATHOLIC EUANCIFA i; :)>.

In the spring of 1827, the illness of Lord Liverpool
(followed soon after by his death) opened ttiii way for
Mr Canning's promotion to the first place !|i tl.e admi-
nistration; on which occasion, for Vfirio'.is reasons of a
personal as well as political charactei', the more uncom-
promising claiKS of Tories resigneo their places, leaving
the reins of government in the hands of a compara-
tively popular party. Mr Canning, however, sank
under the new load imposed upon him, and died in the
ensuing August. His friend Lord Qoderich succeeded
as premier; but resigned in January 1828, when the
Duke of Wellington was appointed in his place, with
Mr (af^rwards Sir) Robert Peel as secretary for the
home department.

From the year 1805, the Catholic claims had been
a prominent subject of parliamentary discussion, and
since 1821 they had been sanctioned by a majority in
the House of Commons. Almost despairing of their
cause, while left to the progress of mere opinion in the
English aristocracy, the Iri»h Catholics had in 1824
united themselves in an AssocieCion, with the scarcely
concealed purpose of forcing iheir emancipation by
means of a terrifying exhibliion of their physical
strength. An act was quickly passed for the suppres-
sion of this powerful body; but it immediately reap-
peared in a new shape. In fact, the impatience of the
('atholic population of Ireland under the disabilities
■".nd degradation to which they were subjected on ac-
i'unt of religion, was evidently becoming so very great,
that there could be litt! hope of either peace or public
order in that country ti^i their demands were conceded.
Though the English public lent little weight to the
agitation, and the king was decidedly hostile to its
object. Catholic emancipation rapidly acouired impor-
tance with all classes, and in all parts or the empire.
In the spring of 1820, a kind of preparation was made
for the concession, by the repeal of the test and corpo-
ration oaths, imposed in the reign of Charles I J.

The ministry soon after Kceived an alarming proof
of the growing force of the question. Mr Vesey Fitz-
gerald hod vacated his seat lor the county of Clare, on
becoming president of the Board of Trade. He was a
friend to emancipation, and possessed great influence
in the county; but he was also a meiiibor of ari anti-
Catholio administration. As an exnedient forariiioying
the ministry, the Catholic Association, and all the locid
influences on that side, were set in motion to procure
the return of Mr Daniel O'Connell, the moat iistin-
guished orator of the Catholic party. To the surprise
of the nation, Mr O'Connell was retiuncd by a great

BISTORT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

proof

Fite-

are, on

WA8 a

fl'ieiice

.H anti-

Ihe lOcal
1 procure
diatin-
Isurprise
1a gretvt

mi^oritj. It WM eren lunniied thftt the Uwi for the
ezdufion of Catholics from Parliament would be unable
to prevent him from taking hii teat. Tho Duke of
Wellington now began to see the necenlty of taking
steps towards a settlement of this agitating question ;
and the first, and most difficult, was to overcome the
scruples of the sovereign. At the opening of the session
of 1829, in consequence of a recommendation from the
throne, bills were introduced by ministers for removing
the civil disabilities of Catholics, and putting down the
Catholic Association in Ireland; and notwithstanding a
great popular opposition, as well as the most powerful
exertions of the older and more rigid class of Tories,
this measure was carried hy a minority of 353 against
180 in the House of Commons, and by 217 to 112 in
the House of Lords,

BEIGN OF WILLIAM IV.

The agitations respecting the Catholic Relief Bill
bad in some measure subsided, when, June 26, 1830,
George IV. died of ossification of tho vital organs, and
was succeeded by his next brother, the Duke of Cla-
rence, under the title of William IV. About a month
after, a great sensation was produced in Britain by a
revolution which took place in France, the main line of
tho Bourbon family being expelled, and the crown con-
ferred upon Louis-Philippe, Duke of Orleans. By this
ev »nt, a great impulse was given to the reforming spirit
in Britain, and the demands for an improvement in the
paiiiamenta?y representation became very strong. The
consequence was the retirement of the Wellington ,''.d-
mii istration in November, and tho foi jm itlon of a Whig
cabinet, head^^d by Earl Grey, .'he ogitations of the
time were much increased by a syst'em of nocturnal
fire-raising, which spread through the south of England,
and caused tSe destruction of a vast quantity of agri-
cultural produce and machinery.

The Whig ministry came into power upon an under-
standing that they were to introduce bills for parlia-
mentary reform, with reference to the three divisions
of the United Kingdom. These, when presented in
March 1831, were found to propose very extensive
changes, particularly the disfranchisement nf boroughs
of small population, for which the members were usually
returned by private influence, and the extension of the
right of voting in both boroughs and counties to the
middle classes of society. The bills accordingly met
with strong opposition from the Tory, now called the
Conservative party. By a dissolution of Parliament,
the ministry found such an accession of supporters as
enabled them to carry the measure through the House
of Commons with large majorities; but it encountered
great difficulties in the House of Lords; and it was not
till after a temporary resignation of the ministry, and
some strong expressions of popular anxiety respecting
reform, that the bills were allowed to become law.

During the few ycRTS which followed the passing of
the Reform Bills, the attention of Parliament was chiefiy
occupied by a series of roeaaurcs which a large portion
of the public deemed necessary for improving the insti-
tutions of the country, and for other beneficial purposes.
The most important of these, in a moral point of vie, v,
was the abolition of slavery in the colonies, the sura of
twenty millions being paid to the owners of the negroes,
as a compensation for resigning a right of property
which had long been a disgrace to humanity. By this
act, eight hundred thousand slaves were (August 1,
18.^4) placed in the condition of freemen, but subject
to an apprenticeship to their masters for a few years.

In the same year, an act was passed for amending
the laws for tho support of the poor in England, which
hod long been a subject of general complaint. One of
the chief provisions of the new enactment established
a government commission for tho superintendence of
the loci>l boards of management, which had latterly
been ill-conducted, and were now proposed to be re-
formed. The flble-bodied poor were also deprived of
the right which hiui been conferred upon them at the
end of the e-.ghteenth cenxuiy, t impel purishea to

support them, either by employment at a certain rate,
or pecuniary aid to tho same amount : they were now
left no resource, failing employment, but that of enter*
ing poor-houses, where they were separated from their
families. The contemplated results of this measure
were a reduction of the enormous burden of the poor<
rates, which hod latterly exceeded seven millions an-
nually, and a check to the degradation which indiscri-
minate support was found to produce in the character
of the labouring-clnsses.

On the renewal of the charter of the East India
Company in 1834, the government deprived it of its
mercantile pil . ilcges, and extended the right of trading
with China to tho community .tt large. The ancient
policy of not allowing Europeans to settle in Hindoostan
was also departed from, under some restrictions of in-
ferior importance. Some reforms, equally advantageous
to the public, were effected in the administration of the
law, and in the privileges held by the Bank of England,

In 1833, a reform took place in the mode of electing
the councils and magistracies of the Scottish boroughs.
Instead of regulations which took their rise in an early
age, and had beer found productive uf mismanagement,
the parliamentary constituencies were empowered, in
all except a few cases, to choose the requisite number
of councillors, to whom then belonged the duty of ap-
pointing the requisite number out of their own body
to act as magistrates. In lU.'iJ, the English municipal
corporations were refonneci, upon a principle similar to
that .ipplied to Scotland, except that the rate-payers
and freemen were designed to form the electoral bodies,
and that the councils in most cases were to consist of a
greater number of members. A modified reform of the
same nature took place in Ireland, by virtue of an
act passed in 1840.

During the summer of 1834, the ministry endea-
voured to carry through Parliament o bill to enable
them to take unusual measures for restraining turbu-
lence in Ireland. In cc. sequence of a difficulty ex-
perienced in passing the measure. Lord Althorp and
Earl Grey resigned their situations. The latter, who
had now passed his seventieth year, was anxious for
other reasons to retire from more active life, in order
to spend the remainder of his days in the bosom of his
family. He withdrew with the admiration of all partie ,
his whole career having been marked by coneigSency
and sincerity. His place was supplied by Viscount
Melbourne, and Lord Althorp was induced to resume
office. The Irish Coercion Bill, with certain modifi-
cations, was then passed.

In November, the death of Eorl Spencer c?>:jed the
advancement of his son Lord Althorp to the House of
Peers, and the ministry was then left without a leader
in the House of Commons. The king, who hod fui
some time inclined to the Conservative party, took
advantage of this circumstance to dissolve the cabinet.
The Duke of Wellington was again called into office,
and a messenger was despatched to Italy to brinjt'Sir
Robert Peel home from that country, in ordev«to accept
the premiership. Sir Robert hastened to Loudon, and
on the 10th of December, the new ministry was -^n-
stmcted, chiefly of the individuals who lost office in
1830. k ir ilobert, though sensible of the difficulty of
conductii. J public affairs at such a time, resolved to do
the utmos to conciliate popular favour, by entering
upon refor. ning measures. In a new House of Corr
mens, his party was strengthened by nearly a hundred
new votes; but he was still in a minoiity. After bring-
iiiiE^ forward a variety of measures of a reforming cha-
racter, being defeated on the question of devoting some
part of the Irish church revenups to education, he was
compelled to resign (April 8, 1835), and allow the Mel-
bourne ministry to be replaced.

In the session of 1836, the ministry were defeated, by
majorities iu the House of Lords, in attempts to carry
seveial importai t measures of reform, but succeeded
in passing an act for commuting tithes in England into
a corn-rent charge payable in n'oney ; also in an act
for enablbg dlsseuten in Englan 1 to b« manied other-

175

OHAMBBBS'8 INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE

wiie than by tho e»tabli»hed clergy; and another for n
iroueral reffigtry of births, den th», and iiiamageB. 1 hoy
likewise reduced the stamp-duty on newspapers to one
penny, by which the circulation of that class of publi-
cations was Tery larffcly incroasod. From this time,
there was a marked diminution in the zeal which had
for some years been manifested for changes in tho na-
tional institutions. Early in lli37, the ministry again
introduced into the House of Commons v. bill lor aot-
ilincthe Irish titho question ; but before this or any
other measure of importance had boon carried, the Ling
died of ossification of tho vital organs (June SO), in the
seventy-third year of his age, and seventh of his reign,
being succeeded by his niece, tho Phincess Victoria.
The deceased monarch is allowed to havu bcon a con-
scientious and amiable man, not remarkable for ability,
but at the same time free from all gross faults.

COMMENCEMENT OF THE PllllSENT HEIUN.

Queen Victoria began to reign June 20, ) II.'I7, having
just completed her eighteenth year; was . -wncd on
tho 28th of June in the following year; and «as mar-
ried to her cousin, Prince Albert ol' Coburg and Ootha,
February 10, HMO. This union has now (February
1849) been followed by tho birth of two princes and
four princesses — thus giving now security to tho con-
tinuance of the present dynasty. In tho autunms of
1042, '44, '47, and '48, her majesty visited Scotland, but
on each occasion more in a private tlian in a state ca-
pacity; residing at the mansinnii of the nobility that
lay in her route to the Highlands, where the Prince Con-
sort enjoyed the invigorating sports of grouse-shooting
and drir-stalking. In 1)148 she paid a visii, entirely
divestc of state formalities, to the late royal family of
France ; and shortly after made another to her uncle,
the king of the Pelgiaiig. In IU45, besides making the
tour of the Knglisk midland counties, the royal pair
visited the family of Prince Albert at Coburg and
Gotha; receiving the attentions of the various (Jennan
powsrs that lay on tiicir outward and homeward route.
Iter majesty htis received in turn the friendly visits of
several crowned heads, among whom have beei. the
cx-king of the French, Leopold of Belgium, the king of
Saxony, and the emperor of Russia. Such interchanges
and attentions are not '.vithout their importance; at all
events they are characteristic of a new era in the in-
ternational history of Kuropc.

The Whig ministry and measures, which had for
gome cime been on the decline, were set aside by a vote
of ' n>» confidence' in the summer of lli41 ; a dissolu-
tion of Parliament was tho consequence ; and after the
new elections, the ()pi)osition was found to bs so far in
the ascendai'cy, that Viscount Melbounic tendered his
resignation, and retired from public life, leaving .-^ir
Tvobert Peel ajrain to take the holm of affairs. The
Parliament of 11)41, under the flirection of thu Peel
ministry, w*! in i-jany re»p<!Cts one of the most im-
portant diunng the rei;;ning dynasty. liesidcs passing
several measures of benefit to the interiinl uumagement
of tlie oou'itry, it calablished, by the nbolition of the
coni-laws and other restrictive duties, the principles of
free trade, and in that course Britain has since been
ioilowed by other nations ; it gave, 'oy tlie imposition
of a Tiroperty and income tax, a preference to the doc-
trine of direct taxation ; it countonanced in all its
(fiploniutic negotiations the duties and advantages of a
peace pnlicy ; and eiig:iged leas with political theories
than with practical and business-like ari'angeinents for
the oomnicrce, health, and education of thu coiuitry. In
cpnsequeni-e of iniuisterial differences. Sir Robert Peel
tendered his tcsignation as premier in June 1 Hid, and
was racrecded in office by Lord John Russell, to whom
wa* :u.digned the further task of carryin;^ out the prin-
cifiics of free trade, of leg k^ '.a; in;; for Ireland in a time
of dearth and famine (caused by «uccc?sive failures of
the pijtato crop), and of adopting some plan uf national
education — a subjecf, which has been too long neglected
iu this otherwise great and prosperous empire.
Since the accession of her majesty, Britain has been
170-

on the most friondly toi-nis with tho other iiationi of
Europe — co-operating with them in tne extension and
liberation of commerce, the continuance of peace, the
suppression of slavery, and the a«lvancement of other
measures of importance to civilisation ; and it is fondly
hoped that the recent and still unsettled constitutional
changes in France, Oermany, Austria, and Italy, will
not affect in any material dogi've this gratifying pro-
gress of pcacfl and social improveinrnt. In the East, a
short, but somewhat itruel war with China has opened
up a new and more liberal system of tri.de with that
country; an unnecessary aggression upon Affghanistaii
was followed by a disastrous defeat of our troops, and
their subsequent withdrawal from that country ; and
an extension of British rule has taken place in India
after several severe battles with the forces of the Sikh
territory. The disputed boundaries between British
America and the United States have been determined
by friendly negotiation ; thus giving permauencv in
the new world as well as in the old to the spirit of
peace and national brotherhood,

MISCKLLANEOUS CIIICUMSTANCES FROM 1820 TO 1849.

This period is reriarkablo for the great efforts which
were made to diffuse knowledge more generally aninngst
the people. Mechanicn^ Institutiom were formed in
most of tho larger to.vns, for the instruction of that
class of the c. nnuunity in mechanical and natural
science. Various i.oriodici'l works of a cheap nature
were also set agoing, for the purpose of connuunicating
science and other branches of knowledge, iu such forms
iM to be intelligible to the less educated classes. At
the same time, consider'/.-le efforts were made by means
of ordinary schools, txhools of design, philosophical
associations, and th): like, to extend still further the
benefits of education. Amongst the individuals who
sought to promote these objects, the most conspicuous
was Lord Brougham, who tilled the office of J(Ord Chan-
i-ellor in the (Jrey administration. Imirartant progress
was uldo mudc in the matter of public health : tho
erection of baths, the laying out of parks for recrea-
tion, the enforcement of better sewerage, the prohi-
bition of luiderground dwellings, and the dissemina-
tion of sounder views as to cleanliness and ventilation,
being features peculiar to the period. Orvat improve-
ment was likewise effected in our prison disci])linu
by the erection of appropriate jails, and a careful
classification and treatment of criminals ; while, with
a view to lessen juvenile depravity, Industrial Schools
v/cro established in many of the more populous towns.

in this period, also, the national energies were chictly
turned towards the arts of peace, and accordingly the
prosperity of tho country made, upon the whole, great
advances. Though agricultural produce had ceased to
bring the high prices it realised during the war, the
farmers paid equally high, or even higher rents ; and
this they were enabled to do in consetiuence of the joil
having been so much improved by draining, manuring,
and the introduction of more scientific modes of cul-
ture. iJuriiig this period, steam navigation, both coast-
wise and to foreign parts, was immensely increased ;
ordinary roads were improved by the mode of paving
invented by Mr Macjidam ; railways began to over-
spreafl all parts of the country, for the conveyance of
goods and passengers, by means of steam locomotives, the
ordinary speed of which is upwards of thirty miles an
hour ; the electric telegraph was put in operation ; iron
was extensively a|>plied to ship-building, especially to
the construction of steamers; raachineiy of every descrip-
tion was much improved, and its application extended
to almost every known process. The last twenty years
have also been niprked by considerable social advanoe-
meut ; for although dicicontent and outbreaks have u>;-
curre<l in certain iocalitius, in consequence of occasional
stagnation in trade, the dearth of provisions, and sup-
posed political grievances, yet tho general aspect of the
country has been one of peace and progress, tending to
a diminution of the graver crimes, and to more correct
views both as to moi al and physical relations.

CONSTITUTION AND RESOURCES OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE.

Thr DrHith Empire coniiati of the United Kingdom of
Orckt Uritftin aud Ireland (including a number of
minor islands around tlielr ihorei), and of aeveral
colonies and other dependenciei in difliiRnt tiuaiiers
of the world* The roost remarkable peculiaiitr in the
political condition of the Biitiah Bibi^« is the hifh
aagittti of ciTti and religious Ubarty which all cliWM
of subjects practically eqjoj. Slarwy exitta ia no
quarter of tne British doamiona: penonal fireedom,
with liberty to come and go, unquestioned and unim-
peded, is assured to all, withoat lespeidt of birth, rank,
profession, lancuagc, colour, or religion,

Britain, while in pojralaftion and iome other respects
surpass bj •ereinu otkotr iMitiom, m > M Mii a dncrw
of wealth aud polilkai influmoa wUA vua he sbm to
place her . c the head of mH iuiUoim. This nnprsM-
dented affluouoe and power *p|sMHa to ham taken iti
rise in a fortunate eoncnmnoe of faTOuring oiKum-
stances, some of a phTsical and othen of a mor»l dka-
racter. The tirst of the jJiTsical causes in importance
is unqnaatioBaUjr the inaalar ^tnation, at onoe pro-
tecting the OiHintrj from the dostructlTe inrasions
whidi bare so much depremed and retarded many con-
tinental states, and luraishing opportunities for a
ready commerce with all the shores of the civilised
world. The second of these causes is to be found in
the natural fertility of a large portion of the United
Kingdom, and the temperate climate enjoyed by it,
faTouring the production of the food neceBHary for a
laim population. A third cause is the larj. amount
of her mineral and metallic utores, fumishiug her with
the meakis of prosecuting manufactures to an extent
beyond all which the world has ever before bad es-
{lerience of. Thus Britain has been naturally qualified
to become the seat of a great agricultural, manufac-
turing, and commercial nation, and must always, f>om
the nature of things, have tended to assume that cha-
racter. Moral causes, likeinse, have had a powerful
eflect. The stock of tiie British population happens to
hare sprung fnm the Teutonic branrh of the Caucasian
variety of the human species, which has in many coun-
tries proved the superiority of its intellectual and moral
organisation. The idea of trial by jury, and of arrang-
ing public aliUrs by a representati^-e body, hit upon
at an early period by this i«ce, show that it possesses a
natural aptitude for forming improved political insti-
tutions. Its connection with most of the important
inventions of modem times shows its ingenuity in the
artii. .'*« maritime enterprise and mercantile intre-
pidity weK testified at a time when other nations
were engages' only in feudal broils. Planted iu Eng-
land in the fifth century, and probably in Scotland
man^ centimes before, we see this people making a
continual ikdrance ever since in political institations
and in the arts of peace. Historiars poist o«t the
accidents r.Ll'ih eflwcted conspicuous ohMUfSS ; but
ivhile the feebienes* nd wickedness ef • Jete may
have been th imn^ediate cause of the Maina Charta,
Rnd the paseious of Henry VIII. the proximate cause
of the reformation of religion, there must have also been
something in the rieople pressing them irresistibly to-
wards liberty of person and of conscience, and enabling
them to overco'iie all obstacles to the accomplishment
uf those objects. It was iu the nature of the people to
establish free institutions — and they were established.
A people 80 active and so ingenious could not fail to
take tCdrnutage of the natural facilitius which they en-
joyed for manufactures and commerce. They made the

* Fur an iMooiint of the pbystoal featuros, natunl products,
poUtlcal and civi: divlaioni of Qreat Britain rnd her dependen-
cies, tlie reader is referred to tlie Usooraphical Noi. from 63
to 70 inclusive.

No. 62.

best of bladee in the days of Cocnr de Lion, and in the
time of Elizabeth their sails whitened every neighboxir-
ing sea. Arts, driven out of other countries by ruth-
less bigotry, fourd ntuga and flourishnd amongst ft
people who eagerly grasp at every kind of employment
which promiaes to be useful, It is to their persevering
industry, exorcised by favour of so many natural cir-
cumstances, and constantly protected by free institu-
tions, that we are mainly and most immediately to look
for the Bouioe of ths greatiiess of the British Kmpire.

VOKM OP aOVEBNMENT.

Th« guTMitmant of the T'nlted Kingdom is constitu-
tional, or ponesses a regu, •- form, in which the civil
Shts of all classes are ackiu.wiedged and guaranteed,
e constitution is a monarchy, in which tho sovereign
Mcepts of liis dignity under an expresii agreement to
abide by certain prescribed forms of government accord-
ing to the laws of the realm, and to maintain inviolate
ths I>rotestant religion, with all the rights and privi*
kgss of the chun;b. The sovereign is the head or di-
MOtiilg power in the executive of government, the foun-
tuin of all honours, and the watchful guardian of the
Interests of the state : ho is held to be incapable of
doing wrong; and if an unlawful act is done, the mi-
nister instrumental in that act is alone obnoxious to
punishment. The legislative part of the government
IS composed of two deliberating bodies — the House of
Lords and the House of Comnicns, both of which con-
sist of individuals belonging to the United Kingdom
only, the colonial dependencies of the empire having
no share in the general management.

The person* who compose the Home </ Lorda form
a separate class or rank, which :1» called collectively
the Peerage, whose members enjoy certain exclusive
privileges and honours. The members of the House
of Lords arc either lords spiritual or temporal. The
spiritual lords are archbishops and bishops, and hold
tneir seats for life in virtue of their ecclesiastical office;
the temporal lords enjoy their seats from hereditary
right, or in virtue of being eievated to the peerage.
In 1848, the number of members of the House of Lords
was 438 — namely, 2 princes of the blood royal, 2 Eng-
lish archbishops, 20 dukes, 17 marqnises, 115 earls, 20
viscounts, 24 English bishops, 4 Irish prelates, 192
barons, 16 representative peers of Scotland, and 26
representative peers of Ireland. The House of l^jords
is liable at all times to an increase uf number by the
elevation of commoners to the peerage; but this pre-
rogative of the crown is sparingly used. The number
also fluctuates in consequence of there usually being
several minors among the hereditary peers; at present,
for instance, there are fourteen under nge.

The House of Cmnmons consists at present (February
1849) of 656 members ; cf whom 253 are chosen by
counties, 6 by universities, and 397 by cities, boroughs,
and towns. England returns 469, Wales 29, Ireland
105, and Scotland S3. Tho number of personp entitled
to vote in the election of these members is abovb a
million; of whom about 620,000 vote for county xnem-
bers, 5000 for repreeentatives of universities, and 440,000
for men bers for cities, boroughs, and towns. The great
bulk of t'le voters, as settled by the Refonn Acts of
1832, is composed of the agricultural tenantry and the
occupauts of houses of £10 of yearly rent; in other words,
the middle classes. The operative classes, on account
of not in general inl^sbiting houses of such value, pos-
sess little direct influence iu the electioik of members
I of the House of Commons. The qualifications of an
elector in counties arc:— a title to have voted on a
freehold qualificatior. before the passing of the Reform
Act, the ]>os8eB8iou of freehold property to the value

177

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

of 40i. annually, or of land in copyhold of the clear
Minual value of ton p. .iidf, the poneMiiou of lan'l or
boutM of tea pouudi auuutl value in property, or o>
a 1mm of not 1«m than «i«»y jroari in hnKlauU. and
fifty-noven In Scotland, and the occupation of landa or
t<w«menti In England for any period, and in Scotland
for nineteen years, at an annual rent of not lean an
fifty poundi. tho qualification of an elect. m
borouflu i» tha occupation of a home of ten piniua*
Mtnual rent; *!»• retideut fwemeu ii> Kimli»li and
Iriih borougnf being alio allowed to vote. A llouno
of Coinmon» cannot legally esiit for wore than aeven
yeart; but, in reality, it rarely exist* lo long; the death
of the wreroign, change of iniuiktry, and other circum-
■tanoei, oauiiug a renewal ou an average every three
or four yean. Reckoning from 1002 till November
I847, there were fifteen Houiiei of Coiunioni; a* the
fifteenth atill exiitu (February 1840), we hare an ave-
nge of three years for each : those of longest duration
yreiti the fourth, from 1U07 to 1812; the fifth, from
J812 to 1818; and the fourteenth, from 1841 to 1047.

The Housea of Lordu and Commons coiiiposo the
Parliamint. The Parliaments of England and Scot-
laud wore united in 1707, and then called the British
Parliament. In 1800, the Irish Parliament merged
in the Biitish Parliament, The three kiugdums wore
first represented in one Parliament in lilOl. Since that
period it has been entitled tho Impaial rarliametU,
and is always convened at Westminster.

The two Houses, with the sovereign, curaposo the
throe estates of tho realm, or legislative body. The
■overeign takes no personal concern in tho proceedings
of Parliament, further than opening or proroguing the
tesk'niut; but the interests of the crown in Parliament
ani ':>tru«ted to members of the cabinet council or mi-
nistry, and by them are defended and explained. The
two Houses, with the sovereign, have th*. power to pans
laws, impose taxes, borrow money, make mquiries into
the management of the public revenues, 01 the trans-
actions of the £p:eat officers of goverumopt, ui.o even
to bring the latter to trial, if nccesaavy, 'v^iU',''':<rs of
either House inquire into ihij inanuer -.'.i vhwh all
great public ini^titutiuns or l>oarJ8 of n^.'-g; (»«:•'. are
conducted, such as those for educa;^. ^ i .'T unrposes
of charity, for the erection of l:,:;hthou«t« ok iLf coast,
for the construct'. ju 01" harbours, and general h', 'udeed,
into all ti'e buiiness w^ich U intrusted to the executive
part of the •ro''emment ; they cannot direct what is to
be done, but lu^;/ always make scrutiny into it after-
wards, if any error or mismanagement has taken place.
The discussions ou these subjects are often very warm
and eager, and bring to light facts of groat public im-
portance. No act ofthe two deliberative bodies becomes
Talid OS a law without tho assent of tho sovereign ; and
all propositions relating to money to be raised for the
public service, must originate with the House of Com-
mons, the Iiords merely givlnj^ their assent as a matter
of form, without Kiing allowed to alter anything. This
circumstance gives a much larger share of influence to
the Commons thiui is possessed by the Lords ; the for-
mer having it in their power, when di«<iatit.ued with
the measures of government, to stop the supplies of
money, and thus bring the whole mocniueiT to a stand.

Each of the two Houses has one presiding member,
irhose duty it in to preserve order and see that the re-
gulations of the assembly are attended to by tho mem-
bers; he is also the person throi'gh whom any commu-
nication passes between the House riid the Queen, he
tdono having th« privilege of Kd<Jr»'jing her majesty in
name of the House. Hence, in the House of Commons,
this r^cer is called the Speaker j in the House of Lords
ho is commonly known as the Lord Chancdhr, from
another office which ho holds ; but the duties of the
latter are quite the same as those of the Speaker of the
Commons. There are numerous forms established for
the regularitr of business in Parliament, but of these
there are only a few which need be mentioned he; a.
Any proposal which is laid before either of the Houiu-ji,
in order to paH into ft law, must bo made out by it*

promoter in <A« fmr > of an act of Parliament, but !s
only known by tho name of a bill while under discus-
sion : permission must first be obtained to introduce
the bill, rod it >iiust then b« read and cnusideriad by
tho Hotiar three several times, besides being once scru-
tinised more closelv by a committee or select number
uf the inumbets, anil, if a public bill, by the whole Houi"!
sitting as a oommittec, when each u>eiub«r is permitted
to ipuak as frequently as he sees occasior, <) *?naa in
the regular sittings of the House no one ii ii'ii>'<'ed to
speak mure i'. vi once, except tn vk jitaiu viii-iu His first
stateiaentM have been misuudemtood. If it is not re-
jected in any of those three readings, 01 ^iven up in
the committee, the bill is said to have passed. It must
then go through tho same proi-eM in the other House,
where it is sometimes adopted, sometimes rejected; but
if any alterations are made on it here, they must be
reported to the House where it first originated. If the
two cannot agree uii the changes proposed, the bill falls
to tho ground; but sonio utouificatlon i» generally con-
trived which satisfies both parties. It still remains to
obtain the sanction of tho sovereign, which is hardly
aver refused, after which tho bili becomes an act nf
rarlianunt or law.

The members of both Houses have certain personal
priviluges, which are deemed necessary for enubling
theiij properly to attend to their public duties. In
Parliament, they enjoy absolute freedom of speech,
and Cuutnot be questioned out of the House for any-
thing said in the debates; they and thoir servants are
exempted from arrest (except in orimitutl cases) during
their attendance in Parliament.

The Extcutive, as already stated, is reposed in tho
hands of a sovereign. The dignity of the sovereign is
hereditary in the family of Urunswick, now on the
throne, and in thi) person of cither a male or female.
A queen reigning, therefore, aiijoys the sarao privi-
leges as a king. Itesides enforcing the laws of the
realm, through the medium of courts of justice, and
a variety of functionaries, f!ie sovereign is charged
with tho office of levying taxes granted for tho public
service, and of defending the empire at home ur
abroad against foreign enemies. He, or she (with
reference to our present sovereign), also couducts all
intercourse with tho rulers of otter nations, forming
treaties and alliaucos, declaring war or concluding
peace. She has the duty of protecting tho persons and
trade of British subjects in foreign countries. Fur this
purpose, she has the sole appointment of the officers
who perform these duties; of judges in the several
courts of law; of officers in the army and navy; of
public ambassadors, and of consuls at foreign ports for
the safetv of tra<Io; and of the officers who levy the
taxes. Sue has also large forces, both naval and mili-
tary, at her disposal, which ore stationed in different
parts of the empire where she or her advisers think that
they are w w u 1 for tho time. Tho task of managing .ill
these extent. ve concerns, which would fall into contu-
sion in the hands of one person, is deputed by tho Queen
to a number uf persons, who are denominated her Mi-
nistert, and sometimes the Cabbitt. These are nomi-
nally selected and appointed by the Queen herself; but
as her choice would be in vain if it were to fall on men
who were disagreeable to Parliament (which might iu
that case refuse to grant supplies for national busi-
ness), the ministry is generally chosen froi.i among such
men as enjoy a considerable share of public confidence.
They have all some high state office. The chief is the
First Lord of the Traasury, whose nominal duty is the
receiving and issuing of the public money, while his
actual station is that of leader of the administration;
he is the first who is appointed in any ministry, and

generally selects all the other members, according to
is own views of their abilities, or of the influence they
posBOM in the country or in Parliament; and any
changes afterwards made are generally at his sugges-
tion, or at least with his full assent. Nuxt is the Lord
High ChanotUor, who presides in the highest law-court
of the kingdom, and is St ker of the House of Lords;

OONBTITUnON AND RES0UB0B8 OF THE BRITISH RMPIM.

lien in nli that relfttM
to the Uwi of the countr^r, lui'i hai tin.- diiipuMl of a
great number of clerical and l»w olH' «•, After him
lure the principal focmtariea of itate, who are five in
nunilxjr, eoch having a Mparato charge ; the first it
Searetary fur the Home Department, after whom cv
the Heoretariei fur Foreign Affair* and for tl>e ( <■. mice,
the Secretary at War, and the Secretary for Ireland.
Xheie, witlt the Chancellor of the Kxchequer, the firtt
Lord of the Admiralty, the Matter -< Ion eral of the
Ut Miauce, the President of the Hoard of Control, and
oiu- ur two others, coDstitutu what is called the Mi-
nitlrp, t!ie Oabinel Council, or briefly the Cabinet; and
all the measures of the executive government are settled
by their deliberations. Besides this body, the Queen
has a J'rivy Council, consisting of persons eminent from
rank, office, or personal character, who may be at vari-
ance with the Cabinet Council, but who take no share
in the government, except when summoned by the royal
authority. They are then in the same situation witl
the cabinet ministers, ivtid Ijecome responsible for '
advice they give.

The ro>(ular divisicii of labour which is established
in the 31n mh govern i leut, under the respective licuds
of the Cabinet, Treaeur v, Exchequer, Board of 'i'rivJe,
Mint, Revenue Boards, Admiralty, War Oifice, &o. is
one of its chiof excellencies ; because overy secretary,
or other officer of state, having a narticular department
assigned to him, the res^)onsibility for any error or
mismanagement is established at once, and niuy be
either roctifiod ur punished. l'i'..liamcnt itself has its
<lutie!i: and when these are not performed to tho satis-
faction of the electors, the meniburs can be dismissed
at next elecUon, to make tvuy for others.

The British constitution, thus Hlightly "itched, Tnay
be generally described as an anomaly in political
iioicnce, being' both profesacill y and in reality a mixture
of all tho three kinds of ^'overnment — mon.uchical,
aristu^iratical, and deinocratical. Such a government
would probal)ly be found totally inapplicable in other
Rocieties; but m Britain it answers well, having grown
up in conformity with the views and character of the
people, and enjoying, in consequence of that conformity,
and of in long existence, the respect required to enable
any system to work. Upon the whole, notwithstunding
the Reform Acts, the aristocratic principle predomi-
nates, yet fully as much from the spirit of the people
themselves, as from any forms of the oonstitutiou.

DISPENSATION OV LAW8.

Justice, civil and criminal, is administered in Eng-
land and Ireland according to laws and forms which
took their rise in the former country, and were in time
extended to the latter. The English law, as it -^ com-
prehensively termed, is of two kinds — written or statute
law, consisting of the laws established by acts of Par-
liament, and consuetudinary law, consisting of ciiiitoms
which have existed from tnne immemorial, and have
received the sanction of the judges. Consuetudinary
law is again divided into common law and equity; tho
former is administered by courts which profess to ad-
here Rtrictly to the old laws of England, except in as
far as they ars altered by statute; the latter was founded
upon the principle that the king, in cases of hardship,
was entitled to give relief from the strictness of the
common law. Equity, though thus originated, has now
become also a fixed kind of law, and is administered in
courts which decide according to established rules.

The principal court for civil suits is the Court of
Common Pleas. Tho Court of King's (or Queen's)
Bench, which was at first only a criminal tribunal, and
the Court of Exchequer, which was designed only to
decide in cases concerning the rever.uc, have become
civil courts by means of fictions in their respective
modes of procedure. Tho Court of Chancery, presided
over by the Lord Chancellor, administers the law of
eauity. Courts under these designations sit both in
Westminster and in Dublin; there av<i also courts of
atHize, which, iu England, per^QniA eix provincial cir-

cuits, in some Instances once, and in otheri twte« *
Tear, Minor cases, criminal as well as civil, are judged
bv boilies of provincial niapittrai^, termed Justices of
the l'ea(«, who meet in every county once every quar-
ter of a vcar. Besides the civil and oriininal tribunals,
there m ecclesiastical courts, which have iuriidictiun
in nmltirs connected 'ith nm<°r>age, wills, kc, and
adopt tho principles ut' t 'u> old canon law. There are
also courts of AdmlraltN, nl ioh decide <iuestions Im-
tweon persons of ditiurunl nations, according to the
code of civil law recognised throughout Europe.

Guernsey, .lersey, Alderiic i , and other small islands
in the British Channel, which politically belong to the
United Kingdom, possess a variety of peculiar privileges
and legal usages. The lile uf Man, situated in tho sea
between England and Ireland, likewise possesses —
absi'-'Uy enough — certain peculiar nri' ilegos.

' itland, laws peculiar to itself founded upon tho

of the Roman and the Feudal law, are adnii-

a supremo civil tribunal, denominated tlio

1, which remains fixed at Edinburgh,

al tribunal, named the Court of Justi-

it only sits in the same city, but makes

.,'h the provinces. Minor civil and crimi-

Uh' cases iu«r also judged in Scotland by the sheriffs

of the TorioiiB counties, and the magistrates of the

boroughs. Scotland possesses the advantage of public

prosecution of offences, the injured party being only a

coniplainer to the public prosecutor. The chief public

prosecutor is th Lord Advocate; the inferior public

prosecutors, in connection with the various minor courts,

are termed Procurators-Fiscal. The whole expense of

[irnsecution is defrayed by tho national exchequer.

The peculiar boost uf tho criminal law of the British
ICmpire, is tho Jury, In England and Ireland, where
the principle of lUe criminal law requires the injured
party or liis representative to prosecute, he can only
do so by permission of a jury uf accusation, called the
Grand Jury ; another jury fcits for the puqiose of
deci<ling if the evidence uguinst the accused has estab-
lished the guilt. 1'hese juries consist in England and
Ireland of twelve Mien, whose verdict must be unani-
mous; in Scotlaiul. the jury upon the charge consists
of tifteen men, who decide by a plurality of votes. The
ji, y is an institution of Scandinavian origin, trans-
mitted to Un ain through tho Saxons; and it is justly
considered as a ir :4t efficient ]>votection of the subject
from the vindictivcness of power. Civil cases, turning
upon matters of fact, are likewise decided in all parts
of tho United Kingdom by juries.

The House of Lords, as the great council of tho
sovereign, acts as a court of last appeal from the civil
tribunrJs of Britain and Ireland. Practically, the busi-
ness of ^ 'uing these appeal >< is undertaken by some
law lord, such as tho Lord tliivnccUor, who, as there
must be three persons present, is usually accompanied
by a temporal peer and a biehop. Before deciding, the
House sometimes demands the opinions of the English
judges. Independently of their power as judges of
npgioal, the peers uct as a criminal court in all cases
where a peer of the realm is tried for a capital crime.

The iaws and judicial usages of England are ex-
tended to most of the colonial possessions, along with
all the rights and privileges which are common to
British subjects. Hencu the inhabitants of the most
distant part of the empire, whatever be their origin,
rank, or colour, are entitled by the conetitution to
enjoy the samj degree of civil and religious liberty,
and the samo careful protection of life and property,
OS their fellow-auljects in the mother country. Thia
is an invaluable boon, for in no nation do the people
practically enjoy greater liberty of speech or action
(without licentiousness), and in none is the press more
unshackled. Next in point of value to the privilege
of trial by jury, the British subject places the right of
petition to the Ilouses of Porliament, either for an im-
provement in the laws or a redress of grievances. Ai
this involves the right of assembling publicly in a
peaceful manner, or of meeting constitutionally, to di«-

178

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OHAMBBBM iSFdKlliatGS VOR YCE VBbftX.

MM meMOMI of gorenment auid legUUtion, it ii
allowed to fom the impngnable bulwuk of Britiih
political freedom. [For farther information on the legal
uiagM of Great Britain and Ireland, the reader ie re-
ferred to the HraiOBY OP Law*— forming No. £4 of the
pteient rolume.]

BELIOION AND THK CHURCn.

The United Kingdom ii a Protestant state, but all
leligions (not offensire to public or private morals)

majr be professed, and their different forms of worship
praotiiwo, without interference from any quarter what-
VTer. All denominations of Christians have their own
churches, employ whom they please as their pastors,
»nd are equally under the protection of the law. The
empire contains several established or predominant
churches, which are supported by special acts of the
legislature. In England and Ireland, there is one
church, denominated the United Church of England
and Ireland (separate before the union of the two
countries in 1800), being a Protestant Episcopacy. In
Scotland, the established religion is Protestant Pres-
bytorian. According to the constitution, the religion
of the English Church, and also the law of England,
are established in every colony by the simple act of
addins the territory to the crown, unless there be a
special provision to the contrary. Thus the Churdt of
England prevails in all the great colonial dependencies,
except Lower Canada, which is guaranteed a Roman
Catholic hierarchy; the Cape of Good Hope, which has
been ^aranteed Protestant Presbyterianism ; Malta,
•nhi-h IS Roman Catholic ; and so on with some minor
colonial possessions and dependencies.

Church of England. — The atfain of the church aro
managed by arohbishops and bishops ; but no step of
any im^rtance, out of the ordinary routine, can be
taken without an act of Parliament, and therefore the
church may be said to be governed by the legislature
of the country. The sovereign is the head of the church,
which is thus in intimate union with the state. The
laity, except through their representatives in the House
of Commons, possess no right to interfere in any shape
whatever with the doctrines or practice of the churon.
The doctrines defined by law are contained in the
Thirty-nine 'Articles, and the form of worship is the
Book of Common Prayer. (See No. 76). Ecclesias-
tically, the country is divided into dioceset, each of
which is under the care of a bishop or archbishop ;
the dioceses are classed under two provinctM, each of
which is under the charge of on archbishop — namiely,
the Archbishop of Canterbunr, who is styled * Primate
of all England and Metropolitan;' and the Archbishop
of York, who is styled 'Primate of England.' The
other dignitaries of the church are arohdeacons, deans,
and prebendaries; the inferior clergy are rectors, vicars,
and curates. Strictly, there are only three grades,
bishops, priests, and deacons, ail clergymen belonging
to one of these. The buhops are entitled to be ad-
dressed as ' my lord,' being legally spiritual peers.

The revenues exigible by law for the support of the
churoh are most unequally distributed, and the dio-
ceses are of very unequal proportions. The following
are the names of the English sees, with the amount
of their incomes: —

Cuterbnry. L.15,000; Bangor, I..4000; Bath and Welb, L-MOO;
Carlisle, L.3000; Charter, L.4S0O; OhIohesUr, I<.4a00: Onrham,
hMBO; Eljr, L.S500; Exeter, LJ700; Olonoestar and Brbtol,
L.37aO; Bedford, L.4900i l.iohfldd, L.4M0; Uaooln, li.«)00;
liludaff, L.1000; London, I..I1,700; Maaohester, L.4900; Nor-
wich, L.44a5; Oxford, L.JIOOO: Peterborongh, L^MW; Ripon,
X.4S00; Rochettcr, LJOOO; Baliibaiy, hMOO; 8t Aiapb, L.4M0;
8t David's, L.8S0O: Wiaohetter, I<.10,MO; York, Ii.10,000;
Bodor and Man, L.sn00.— Total inoome, L.147,W&

The greater part of these revenues are derived from
lands, or rents for grounds let on leases, and for which
fines are taken at entry. The chapters of cathedrals,
composed of deans, canons, and prebends, possess ^so
large revenues, the dean of Durham, for instance, hav-
ing £4800 a year, and. other memben of the <^pter
180 '

£32,i60. In 1834, the groM lerennei of ihe deaili ai)d
chapters amounted U upwards of X2S5,000. The
revenues of the inferioi or parochial clergy are derived
firom tithes commuted into money paymenti, and also
fees at oelebrating marriaoes, baptLmis, and fUnerals.
With respect to the parochiial branch 6f church eroolu-
ments, Mr M'Culloch remarks-^' It appears that of
10,478 benefices, from which returns have been re-
ceived, 297 are under £50 a year; 1629 are between
£60 and £100 a vear; and 1602 are between £100 and
£160; so that there are 1926 benefices under £100
a year, and 3628, or more than a third of all the bene-
fices in the count.-y, under £160 a year. On many of
these benefices there are no glebe houses, nor do they
possess the means A erecting any.' Curates are paid
by the recton or vicars, whose servants they are: by
law their salary cannot be under £80— the average U
£81. The total revenues of the churoh may be stated
in general terms as follow: —

Arshbiahops and blahopi, L.ISO.OOO ; cathedral and collegiate
o'durehes, L.SSO,000; deani and other fimotlonarin, L.60,000;
10,840 parochial benefices, L.3, 100,000; ourateaof reiideiit clergy,
Ii.87,000; cuTptsi of non-resident dlergy, L.387iO0a — Total
reTenne, LJ,984,000.

The appointment of the clergy to benefices is as fol-
low: — Presented by the crown, 962; by arohbishops
and bishops, 1248; by deans, chapten, and ecclesias-
tical corporations, 2638; by universities, colleges, and
hospitals, 721 ; by private individuals, 5096 ; and by
municipij corporations, 53. This, says the authority
already quoted, is not exactly correct, there being up-
wards of 200 omitted in the returns.

In 1847, the total number of congregations belonging
to the established church was 12,060. At the some
time there were the following number of coDgr^;ations
of dissenters: — Roman Catholics, 441; Presbyterians,
230 ; Independents, 1860 ; Baptists, 1210 ; Calvinistic
Methodists, 431 ; Wesleyan Methodists, 2890 ; other
Methodists, 693; Quaken, 384; Home Miasionaiy con-
gregations, 469---total of dissenting congregations (ex-
clusive of Jews), 21,085. It is con idered probable that
this number includes as many actual worshippen as
the 12,060 congregations of the establishment. The
membeiv of the established church have beisn estimated
at 4,500,000 ; and those of dissenting bodies at 4,000,000 ;
but all such estimates are exceedingly illusory.

Church <ff Ireland. — In Ireland, the established reli-
gion is the Protestant Episcopacy, of which another
branch is established in England. Thus the some doc-
trines, ritual, and forms oi ecclesiastical government,
exist in these two countries, the hierarchies only being
difiierent with respect to their political status. At
present, there are two arobhiahcprics — namely, Ar-
maj;h, and Dublin; the incumbent of the former being
< Primate of all Ireland,' and that of the latter, * Pri-
mate of Ireland, and Bishop of Glendalough and Kil-
dare.' The number of dioceses are thirty-two, now
consolidated under eleven bishops. There have hitherto
been 32 deans and 30 chapters of cathedrals. The
number of parishes, includmg perpetual curacies, is
(or was lately) 2405, but many have no church, and
the number of incumbents for the Whole is 1385.

The revenues of the archbishops and bishops in
1848, amounted to £79^)17 annually; and the total
income of the church, including value of glebe-luids
and tithes, was £865,535. The tithes of most parishes
are now compounded for.

The Roman Catholic Church in Ireland consists of
four arehbishoprics, and twenty-three bishoprics, ^rith
parochial divisions and a bod^ of clergy similar to the
plan of the establishment; to it also belongs a consider-
able number of monasteries. After the Roman Catholic
body, the chief dissenting communion is that of the
Presbyterians in the northern parts of the country.
According to law, two days throughout the year, ex-
clusive of Sundim, are set apart as holidays, or sacred
from l«bour, in England and Ireland — namely, Christ-
mas and Good Friday. Of the Irish population, the
Estftbluhed Church lays claim to 52,000; the Pniby<

coissmonois ako bsbotjboib ov tbe bbctish bupire.

tcriut to 642,000; the CathoUot to S,800,000; and
other dlnenting bodiet to 24,000.

C%Mr«A (/&»tlaii((.— ProtestMit PietbyterianiBin, ac-
cotding to a politj introdnoed flrom Geneva by Knox,
waa ettabliahed in Scotland by act of Parliament in
1560, a few veart after the previoua Roman Catholic
Chanih had Men completely diamembeied and lup-
preised. The hiatory of the country dewribei the
■tnigglet of thii form of church goTemment with Epis-
copacy during the greater part of the lerenteenth
century. Shortly after the revolution, an act of Parlia-
ment of William and Mary in 1690, re-eitablished
Preibyteiy on the model of a statute of 1592. Ac-
cording to the plan thus established, and never after-
vnuds materially altered, the clerey of the Church of
Scotland are i^ equal in rank, and are officially minis-
ters of parishes. To the chif rch belongs a body of
lay functionaries called elders, each church having
several, who assist thp clergyman at the communion,
visit the sick, and generally act as a vigilant ecclesias-
tical police. This incorporation of luty with the church
has given it a remarkably secure footing in the affec-
tions of the people. The ecclesiastical community is
governed by a series of courts — the lowest being^ the
kirk-session in every parish, composed of the minister
and elders: the next is a court composed of the clergy
of a division, called a Presbytery, and an elder from
each puish; the next is a synodal court, composed of
functionaries from an aggregation of Presbytenes; and
the highest is the Genend Assembly, composed of dele-
gatesTrom the Presbyteries, and which meets annually
at Edinburgh. Constant residence in their parishes is
obligatory on the clergy.

The parochial clergy are supported by money stipends
levied firom the heritors or landowners, on the prindple
of commuted tithes or teinds. The amount of stipenda
yearly depends on the average market value of com,
the averages being called Jiars, which are struck an-
nually by a jury in every county. Each minister being
entitled to a certain quantity of gnun, the value of the
quantity, acoordinf to the fiars, is paid in money. If
the teinds in the hands of the heritors be not all up-
lifted, the stipend is liable to be increased at the end
of every twenty vears. In 1848, the gross amount of
teinds piud to the clergy annually was £148,000, and
the amount left unappropriated in the hands of private
individuals was £186,000. It is not stated by any
authority we have consulted what unappropriated
teinds are in the hands of the crown; but it appears
that there are bishops' teinds (formerly revenues of
bishops), amounting to £15,741 annually, of which a
portion is drawn by the crown, and £10,182 unappro-
priated. The totu income of the church, including
value of glebes and manses, is calculated at £274,620,
being on an average of £256 each. In some parishes
the exigible stipend is to small, that it is made up to a
minimum of £150 by government. Among the largest
stipends are those paid to the eighteen parish ministers
of £dinbui«h, who receive about £500 each, levied by
a peculiar law as a money-tax from the inhabitants.
The expense incurred for building and maintaining the
fabrics of the churches and manses, is defrayed by the
heritors alons with the stipends.

In Scotland no secular days, such as Christmas and
Good Friday, are legally set apart as holidays, the
Scottish Church recognising no samts' dayc or holidays
whatsoever. Bat in each parish there are one or two
fast days in the year, held on the week preceding the
celebration of the communion.

Scotland abounds in dissenters, the bulk of whom
are only. separatists frcm the church, and under va-
rious names, possess the same doctrines and formula.
Besides these dissenters, there is a considerable body
of Protestant Episcopalians, in communion with the
Church of England; also Roman Catholics and Inde-
pendents. The number of conjpegations belonging to
the established church, and various dissenting bodies,
may be summed up as follows : — Established Church,
1285; Free Church, 714; United Anooiate Synod, or

Secession Church, and other Presbyteriani, 648; Inde^
pendents, 141; Episcopalians, 110; other Protestant
sects, 47 ; Roman Catholics, 77.

BDCCATION.

In England, the chief institutions for education
are — the ancient national universities of Oxford
and Cambridge; the more recent colleges of Lon-
don, Durham, and Lampeter in Wales^ the classical
schools of Eton, Westminster, Winchefeter, Harrow,
Charterhouse, and Rugby ; the military college of
Sandhurst; and the East India Company's seminaries
at Huleybuiy and Addiscombe; the colleges of the
dissenting denominations; and the elementary schools
of the National and British and Foreign Societies.
Beyond the above-named schools, everything; ele-
mentary is left entirely to private exertion or indivi-
dual beneficence; and to this ma^ be attributed the
fact, that the number of scholars is as 1 to 11^ of the
population, while in Prussia, for example, it is as 1
to 6. Some Schools of Design, recently established,
the British and other museums, certain learned socie-
ties, and a number of mechanics' and other similar in-
stitutions, complete the educational machinery of the
country. England is thus almost the only country in
Europe in which there is no public or general system
of elementary education — ^religious sectarian differences
having as yet frustrated every scheme towards the es-
tablishment of so desirable an object.

Though government has not been able to organise
any qrstem of national education, ' it has,' says Mr
M'Culloch, ' within the last few years adopted a plan
by which it has done a good deal to promote instruction,
without exciting the oppositiogn that would have been
called forth by its direct interference with existing
systems. Parliament votes annu&Uy a sum for the
promotion of education, the disposal of which is vested
in the Committee of Council for Education. Hitherto
(1847) the grants have been principally disposed of
in advances towards the erecting of school-houees; but
latterly, also, contributions have been made to the
erection of houses for the masters, and for the purchase
of books <uid other school machinety. The grants to
schools are at the rate of £1 per hciMl for every child
in attendance, whether the school be for infants or for
more advanced pupils. The principal condition an-
nexed to a grant is, that the school bo assisted shall be
open to the visits and examinations of a government
inspector.' The grants to the Committee of Council
have been as follows: — From 1839 to 1842 at the rate
of £30,000 per annum; from 1843 to 1844, £40,000;
in 1845, £75,000; and in 1846, £100,000. To be fuUy
effectuid — that is, to meet the wants of the country, so
that every one mi^ht enjoy at least the elements of an
ordinary school tuition — the "graut would require to be
trebled or quadi;ipled; but even this is not desirable
unless under a uniform and non-sectarian system.

In a country where there exists no national system,
it is impossible of course to obtain anything like accu-
rate statistics regarding the number of pupils, the sums
expended, the curriculum or methods of tuition fol-
lowed, or, in fact, anything that appertains to the
elucidation of the all-important subject of education.
Matters cannot, however, long continue in this state;
and already we perceive in the existing parliamentary
grants, in the discussions which have followed, in the
establishment of Khool associations, and the like,
symptoms of a better and brighter era.

Ireland possesses three collegiate establishments, in
which the higher departments of science and literature
are taught — namely. Trinity College, Dublin; the
Roman Catholic College of Maynooth; and the Aca-
demical Institution in Belfast. Under a recent act of
Parliament, four additional colleges are about to be
erected, unrestricted by relinous tests, and open to
students of every denomination. Besides these there
are several minor Catholic colleges, and the public
classical or grammar-schools of the larger towns. Ele-
mentary education hu in recent times made great

181

OHAHBBIUrS mrOBKATIOir VOB THE PKOnJB.

adTMtcM in thii part of the United Kingdom, m that
th« number of pupili rMoiring luoh Initruction u now
eitimated at 1 to 10 of the population.

In 1831, there wa« establiihed by act of Pwliament
a national tyitem of education, the mam feature of
which is an knangement by which the children are
Mpaiated at certain timei, and Uught religion by their
renectire piwtor*— the neceiiary Ainda bemg prorided
by the state. By this means it was hoped that the
great body of the people, and moro particularly the
children of the poorer class of Catholics, would at
length be brought within the pale of education. We
need not say how differently the plan has been regarded
by rarious parties, both In Ireland and in Britain.
Th9 national board consists of nine commissioners
chosen fh>m both the Roman Catholic and Protestant
bodies — the Roman Catholic and Protestant archbishops
of Dublin being among the number. The commissioners
in 1840 receired £50,000 from the public purse; their
estimate was £50,357, which they proposed to lay out
as follows: — On training of teachers, £2220; model
schools, £890; grants towards building and establish-
ing new schools, £12,000; salaries and gratuities to
teachers, £23,000; infant schools, £220; agricultural
schools, £150; inspection, £4975; books and school
requisites, £4250 ; and general expenditure, £3152.
The fee paid by each scholar is Id. per week. In
March 1838, the number of national schools was 1384,
attended by 169,548 children; but 195 new schools
were soon to be opened, and it was expected that they
would be attended by 40,106 pupils, making a total of
209,654. Reckoning, however, the schools said to be
in nctual operation in March 1838, there were then
upwards of 169,000 children receiTing a regular ele-
mentary education at an annual cost to the state of
£50,000. Since that period the grant has been in-
•.■nUtsed; and in 1845 there were 3426 schools, and
432,844 pupil", at a cost of £86,000.

Besides tu h great national system of elementary
instruction, the country poMcsses several religious or
charitable associations for promoting education among
the poorer classes : of these the principal are the Kil-
dare Place Society, which lately supported 1097 schools,
attended by 81,178 scholars; the Church Education
Society, which in 1845 had 1811 schools and 100,755
pupils; and the Sunday School Society, formed in 1809
for the religious instruction of children unable to attend
schools on week days. The Roman Catholic body also
supports a considerable number of schoohi.

Scotland possesses five colleges or universities for the
higher branches of instruction, being those of Glassow,
St Andrews, King's College and Moreschal College
Aberdeen, and Edinburgh. Education at these insti-
tutions is generally conferred on a more liberal and
less expensive scale than at the universities of England.
Besides these universities there are the recent and
minor colleges connected with the Episcopalian, Free
Church, and Catholic bodies. Scotland has been long
distinguished for its parochial institutions for ele-
mentary instruction, and also for its grammar-schools
or academics in the chief towns, which serve as pre-
paratory gymnasia for the universities. Each parish
(some parishes in towns excepted) is provided with a
Mhool at the expense of certain landowners or heritors,
in virtue of an act of Parliament passed in 1696, re-
establishing statutes formerly in existence. Another
act was passed (43 Oeo. Ill, c. 54) in 1U03, amending
existing provisions on the subject, and ordaining ' that
the salary of each parochial schoolmaster shall not be
under £16, 13s. 4d., nor above £22, 48. 5^d.,' except in
particular cases mentioned ; and provision is further
made for augmenting this minimum and maximum at
the end of every twenty-five years. An increase ac-
cordingly took place in 1828, raising the minimum to
£25, 13s. 3fd.,and the maximum to £34, 4s. 4^d. These
payment* are made according to the liberality of the
heritors; and they besides must provide a small house
for the schoolmaster, with a garden, aa well as school-
house. The teacher is entitled to take small feei in
182

addition ; the more common fee is 2i. or 2s. 8d. per
quarter for instruction in reading,Srith 6d. for writing.
Altogether, this class of men are elenderly remuneratM
for their extremely valuable lerrices. Within the laet
thirtT^eari,the parish schools have been almost super*
seded in some quarters br the establishment of vofun-
tarilpr supported institutions, sudi as thoee of the Dis-
senting and Free Churches, Subscription Academies,
and the like; they have alio been supplemented by
various munificent endowments from private indivi*
duals, and recently by the proffer of aid from the
Committee of Council on Education,

In a report to Parliament in 1834, the number of
schools in Scotland was stated as follovrs : — Parochial
schools, 1047; pupils attending them, 68,293; total
emoluments of teachers, £53,339. Voluntarily sup-
ported schools, 3995 ; pupils attending them, 154,160.
It appears from this that there were y23,45S children
receiving instruction (not including the attendance at
Sunday schools), and that of these only 68,208, or little
more than one-fourth, were educated at the parochial
schools. There were 5042 schools, and of these only
1047, or about one-fiflh, were parochial establishments.
The publication of this report caused considerable sur-
prise, for it was generally believed that the great bulk
of the juvenile population were instructed in the parish
schools. The total emoluments of the parish teachers
are stated at £53,339, or on an average, nearly £51
each; but of this sum only £29,642 is stated as salary,
there being collected in school fees, £20,717, and from
other sources, £4975. The average annual expense
of educating each child at the parochial schools, on the
above data, appears to be 15s. 7^. A neat difierence
was found between the attendance of miues and females.
Taking the entire attendance on schools, there were
732,489 moles, and 89,964 females. The result of the
inquiry seems to be, that about 1 in 9 of the population
in Scotland attends school.

The generally imperfect instruction amone the
humbler orders of society in all parts of the United
Kingdom, .s strikingly n.anifested in the returns of cri-
minal commitments. On this interesting topic we ex-
tract the following results of an inquiry instituted with
respect to education and crime, and lately embodied in
a pamphlet read before the Statistical Society of Lon-
don, by RawBon W. Rawson, Esq.: —

' \»t, That only 10 in 100 of the criminal offenders
committed for trial in England and Wales are able to
read and write well, and of these only 4 in 1000 have
received such an amount of instruction as may be
entitled to the namo of education <-,nd that these pro-
portions are greatly below t> rnge standard of
instruction among the general ^ ion.

2d, That these proportions i> .^nsiderably higher
in Scotland, and lowei^ in Ireland; and the evidence
appears to establish that the degree of instruction pos-
sessed by crimini*^ offenders is an indir»tion of that pos-
sessed by the gen.r*l population in the same districts.
3d, That about one-third of the adult male popula-
tion of England cannot sign their own names, and that
from one-fifth to one-fourth can neither read nor write.
4th, That these proportions ore much more favour-
able than ir. France or Belgium, Where one-half of the
youths a^ eighteen could neither read nor write. The
proportion of wholly ignorant criminals in those eouu'-
tries ia correspondingly greater than in England.

5th, That in England, instruction is twice as preva-
lent among male as among female criminals, and one-
half more prevalent anions males in the general popu-
lation than among females. That in Scotland and
Ireland school instruction is three times as prevalent
among the male criminals.

6th, That this unfavourable condition of females in
these two countries is further confirmed by the fact,
that ths proi>ortion of female to male criminals is
greater than in England; and it may be traced to the
circumstance of the number of girls at school in those
two countries being very small in comparison with the
number at school in England. In comparing the three

GONSTITCTIOK AKD BESOUBGES OF THE BBITIBH EliIPIRE.

eountriei, the number of female crimintlt ii found to
be exMtljr in the inrene ratio to the proportion of
females attending idiool.

7(A,That education hai a greater influence among
females than among males in restraining them from
the commission of crime.

8(A, That instruction prevails, upon an arerage, to a
greater extent among the agricultural than among the
manufacturing counties of England; but that the agri-
cultural counties in the east, east-midUuid, and south-
east, are greatly below the average.'

Since the above results were deduced, a new and

Satifying feature of the age has appeared in the estab-
ihment, in many of our more populous towns, of what
are termed^Industrial Schools. These humble institu-
tions are intended solely for those neglected and desti-
tute children who would otherwise be uncared for, and
allowed to grow up in ignorance, beggary, and crime.
Already much good has been done by these schools, in
which the children receive certain meals, clothing,
elementary instruction, and are trained to industrial
habits. As yet they have depended on private sub-
scription; but a more legitimate object for government
support could not well )w imagined.

PINANCSS.

litveHut.-^The revenue of the British Empire has
varied exceedingly of late years; from 1761 to 1774,
which was a period of peace, it increased from £8,800,000
to £10,285,673; and since that time, from the various
wars in which the country was engaged, the immediate
expenses, and the interest of public debts, it has conti-
nued to augment till within these last ten or twelve
years. From 1775 to 1783, which was the period of the
American war, it rose from £10,000,000 to £1 2,000,000;
and during the peace which followed till 1793, it was
increased to £17,500,000 a year.
I After this period the French revolutionary war com-
menced. That war was by no means unpopular with
the nation; and it was tiesides gilded by the many
splendid victories which continued to be obtained by
British seamen as long as the enemy had a fleet to
appear at sea. Heavy taxes for defraying the expenses
of this war were therefore submitted to without remon-
strance, and the public reve ue rose accordingly to a
very large amount. From 1794 to the peace of Amiens
in 1801, which only lasted two years, the revenue was
increased from £17,500,000 to £28,000,000; and from
1803 till 1816, the year after the final conclusion of
neaoe, it had risen to £76,834,494, which was the
largest sum raised by taxes in one year.

_ The sums thus raised in taxes, large as they were,
did not, however, meet the expenditure of the country
during these periods of war. In order to defray the
great charges which arose, it became necessary also to
borrow to a ^at amount. The following table will show
the sums raised by the taxes, the sums borrowed, and
the total expenditure for each of the years specified: —

Year.

Raised in Taxes.

Borrowed.

Total Expend.

1794

£17,674,395

£5,079.971

£22,754.366

1801

S8,085,8S9

33,533,159

61.617,968

1803

38.401.738

23.972,748

62,373,480;

1806

S3,698,124

22,358,672

76,056.796

1810

66,089,349

22,763.202

88.792.551

1814

70,936,215

62,309.445

122.235.660

1816

76,834,494

54,471.464

130,305.958

These sums will appear altogether enormous, and must
give the most extraordinary idea of the resources of a
government, which, while it raised such a large yearly
amount in taxes, had yet credit to borrow the immense
additional sums which were wanted. The whole sum
which was expended in the wars of the Revolution, from
1794 to 1816, amounted to £1,700,000,000 sterling— a
sum so far beyond all ordinary dealings, that we can
have little conception of its amount or value.

The debt formed by borrowing money at difl'erent
ntes of interest to conduct the warlike operations of
tlw country, hM risen from small beginnings towards

the conclusion of the seventeenth centuiy, to an on*
paralleled amount. At the revolution of 1688, tb«
national debt amounted to only £664,268; at the
acceuion of Queen Anne, £16,894,702 ; of George L,
£54,145,863; of George II., £52,092,285; at the end
of the Spanish war in 1748, £78,201,312; at the oom-
mencement of war in 1755, £74,871,840; at conclusion
of peace in 1762, £146,682,844; at commencement of
American war in 1776, £185,943,051; at oonolusian
of peace in 1783, £288,484,870; at commenoament of
French revolutionaty war, £283,733,609; at peaoe of
Amiens in 1801, £582,839,277; at peace of (Feb. 1)
1816, £864,822,461; on the 5th of January 1848 it wae
£772,401,851, with an interest of £27,753,668. At th«
same period the amount of outstanding Exchequer billa
was £17,974,600, which raised the sum-total of the
national debt to leven hundrtd and ninety ntUUofu, and
the total interest to £28,141,5311 The annual cost «f
management of the national debt is £91,398.

The revenue which it is necessary to raise for the
purpose of paying the interest of the debt, and conduct-
mg the business of the country, is derived from taxa-
tion upon a great variety of diJSerent articles, which
are all, however, reduced to the following heads: —

1. The Ctutoma. — These are taxes levied upon the
foreign commerce of the country, being the duties paid
upon articles imported from abroad, such as tea, sugar,
cofiee, spirits, wines, tobacco, &c. They include also
a few on some goods exported, such as coals, wool,
and skins. Their whole amount in the year ending
Januanr 5, 1848, was £20,024,431.

2. The Excise. — The Excise taxes are those which are
levied on goods of British manufacture, such as glass,
malt, paper, &c. The duty is paid back again to the
maker if the commodity is to be exported to foreign
countries. This class of taxes yielded, in the abov*
year, £12,883,677.

3. Stamp Duties. — ^These consist of the prices affixed
to stamped papers, upon which the law makes it impe-
rative that every document for the transfer of property,
or other obligation, shall be written. Deeds, settlements,
and bills, bills of exchange, receipts (above a certain
small amount), and a great variety of other instruments
of business, are required to be stamped in this manner:
and the prices aflixed to the stamps, which are often
high, bring a large revenue. Under the head of stamps
are also included newspaper stamps, indentures, dice,
duties on plate, and other anomalous items. The whole
amounted in the above year to £7,527,543.

4. Assessed Taxes. — These are duties levied on land,
on windows (eight or upwards), male servants, riding-
hones, dogs, use of armorial bearings, hair powder, &c.
This class of taxes, which are levied by surveyors and
collectors, amounted in the above year to £4,334,561.
The principal items are the land and window taxesj
each of which was above £1,000,000.

5. Income and Property Tax. — A tax on pronerty'and
incomes beyond a certain annual amount has been
occasionally resorted to in time of war, or during extra-
ordinary financial depressions. A burden of this kind
was imposed in 1841; then as a temporary expedient,
but the state of the country has since rendered its con-
tinuance necessary. It is at the rate of 7d. per pound
on property, and on all incomes exceeding £150 per
annum, allowance being made for certain kinds of
loss and outlay. The revenue drawn from this source
in 1848 amounted to £5,450,800. In 1847 it was
£5,593,109; and in 1846, £5,603,443.

6. Post-Qjjice.—ln the year ending October 1839, the
revenue derived from the tax on letters passing through
the post-oflSce was £2,390,764. But by the reduction
of postage to one penny per letter (if under half an
ounce) at the beginning of 1840, the amount of revenue
derived from this source in the year ending January
1840, was only £441,000; and in 1848, £923,000. The
great advantage derived by the country from cheap
postage more than compensates the deficiency.

7. The income derived from rentals of crown property,
and the sale of timber, bark, &c. from the crown laudi

18B

CBAMBIlnro nrVOBMATION FOB TBI V1S07LB.

(wtth othtr ineidento), yielded • menae in the abort
jrew of £77,000. . . , . v .

8. ir^NwttMMOwf.— Tlieee inelade dutiee on hackney-
coMhee, h»wken' Uceniei. offlcee, peniione, feet, and
mode ieiaed for tasee, together with a number of other
oaraal reoeipti. Their amount in 1848 wae £1 19,788.

9. The abore eoureee are those from which the ordi-
nary rerenue ie neeired ; but in addition to these
then are imprest and other moneys, money receired
from the East India Company, unclaimed diTidends,
Kc.— all of whieh in 1848 amounted to £205,462.

The tota' of the income for the year ending 5th
January 1848 was thus £51,546,264 ; and it wUl be
obserred that of that sum fiilly £92,000,000 were raised
from customs and excise, or duties on foreign and Bri-
tish manuftotures, and above £7,000,000 on stamps.
Thus the great bulk of taxation is indirect, and the
raallr direct taxes are small in comparison. The
chief burden of the taxes evidently falls on the con-
sumers of tea, coffee, sugar, tobacco, soap, spirits, and
wines, and these consumers are the great body of the
people. Considerable reductions hare been recently ef-
fedied, however; and the evideht tendency of the times
is to direct rather than to indirect taxation. Since
1881, not only have numerous duties been reduced and
modified, but those of an unproductive nature have
been swept from the tariff; while those on com have
been rendered merely nominal.

Espaiditure. — The gross annual revenue of the king-
dom in 1848 was £57,795,249, which, after deduction of
outstanding balance, chaige of collection, &c. left a nett
income, as above-mentioned, of between £51,000,000
and £52,000,000: let us now see how this large sum
is expended. The first great item of expenditure is in
the form of interest on the national debt, amounting
to £28,141,531; the navy, £8.018,873; the army,
£7,540,405; the ordnance, £2,947,869; miscellaneous
services chiuged on annual grants of Parliament, such
as objects of science, museums, education, surveys.
Parliamentary commissions, public buildings, printwg
and stationety, &c. &c. £3,561,067; courts of justice,
£1,046,594; annuities and pensions charged on the
consolidated fund, £529,804; other salaries and aJlow-
anoes, £432,157; miscellaneous charges, £310,976; on
account of Irish distress,£l,525,000;civil list, £393,983.
With respect to this last sum, which is the expense
incurred for the personal support of the sovereign and
loyal family and household, we may remark that it
forms but a small item in the ^nenl expenditure of
the nation. Formerly, the crown possessed private
revenues from lands, duties, bo. but all such are now
abandoned to the country (chiefly under management
of the Board of Woods and Forests), and the sovereign,
in requital, is voted a civil list, or certain fixed sums,
by vote of Parliament.

The total expenditure thus amounts to £59,230,413
— making an excess of ex^nditure over the income of
£2,956,683. To meet this excess, either new taxes
must be imposed, and new loans contracted, or a cor-
responding reduction must be made in the national
outlay; and it is now to the latter alternative that the
attention of the public is being directed. That the
expenditure of nations, as well as that of individuals,
should never exceed their incomes, is just and pru-
dent; where an opposite course is pursued, it is sure to
lead to embarrassment and dishonour in the long-run.

THE ARMY AND NAVY.

ne Army. — According to the terms of the constitu-
tion, a permanent or standing army is not held to
be legal. It is understood that the civil power, as
exerted by magistrates, constables, and police, is com-
petent to preserve order, and that the creation of a
military force is only a matter of temporary necessity.
An army, however, being constantly required both to
assist the civil authority, and to protect the foreign
possessions of the empire, an act of Parliament, called
(he Mutiny Act, u passed annually, to maintain a large
body of troops in regular service. Whether from tlus
IM

provision in the oonstitntion or otherwise, it happen!
that education in military tactics is eonduoted on a
very limited scale : the privates in the army are en-
listed by small bounties from the lowest classes of the
community, and verr rarely, if ever, are promoted to
the rank of commissioned offloet*. The commissioned
officers, in general, belong to the aristocracy or landed
gently, ana in most instances purchase their commis-
sion according to a scale of prices. Although both
privates and officers are alike ill-prepared, by previous
instruction, for performing the duties of their profes*
sion, such are the effects of discipline, the excellence
of equipment, and other advantages, but, above all, a
high tone of honour and spirit of valour, that the
British army is found able to compete with forces re-
cruited under far more favourable circumstances. It
is composed of infantry and cavalry, variously accoutred
according to the part they have to perform in the field.

In 1848, the army (infantry and cavalry) consisted of
122,812 rank and file, 9962 non-commissioned officers,
and 5995 officers. Number of horses, 1 1 ,000. The an-
nual estimate for this branch of our forces is at present
£6,318,686. To this account there is to be added what
is called the civil department of the army, or the army
management, consisting of the salary of the secretari-
at-war and his office, tne coramander-in-chief and his
office, the medical departments, &c. By an act passed
in the reini of George IV., a sum of £60,000 is paid
into the Exchequer by the East India Company, on
account of the charge for retiring pay and pensions,
and other expenses of that nature, arismg in respect of
the forces serving in India. This sum is applied to-
wards the general expenses of the state. The pay of
a private in the Horse Guards varies from Is. 9^. to
2s. 0^. per day ; in the cavalry of the line. Is. 4d. ; in the
Foot Guards, Is. 2d.; and in the infantry of the line.
Is. Id. When at home and in barracks, 6d. a day is
deducted from this, for which the soldier receives three-
quarters of a pound of meat and one pound of bread.
The principal part of his clothes and accoutrements is
furnished at the public expense; his pay, however, is
subject to a deduction of 2s. 7^. a week, in the case of
privates serving in the cavalry; Is. Id. a week from
privates in the Foot Guards; and Is. 6d. from all other
privates, on account of these articles.

Besides the cavalry and foot regiments, there is
another description of force called the Ordnance, which
includes artillery, engineers, miners, &c. They have
the management of fortifications, with their guns,
stores, &c. the making of rockets, and different kinds
of shot for great guns. The numerical force of this
branch of the service amounts to 14,294 men and
officers. These, with equipments, cost upwards of
£3,000,000 annually. Of the British army, 113,847
are employed at home and in the colonies, and 24,922
in the East Indies. The troops at home are chiefly
lodged in barracks, as a police, near the large towns.

The statements which we have made above relate
entirely to the effective force of the army, which is
either on active duty or ready to be so employed. But
there are a great number of persons attached to the
army who do no duty, though receiving ^ay like others.
Some of these are pensioners, who have either been long
in service, or have suffered by wounds, &c.

The Navy. — Great Britain has long been renowned
as a firsi-r&te naval power: by command of its war
vessels it protects its commerce, and exerts its autho-
rity in the most remote quarters of the globe. It is
usual to say that Britain possesses the * dominion of
the seas ;' but this is only a figure of speech. The
nation possesses no acquired or vested sovereignty over
the ocean, acknowledged by other powers, although at
times it mav forcibly compel submission. The British
royal navy is recruited in much the same manner as
the army; but the constitution, by a singular anomaly,
sanctions the forcible abduction of men from their
private homes to serve on board of war vessels. This
species of impressment, however, is only resorted t«
in coses of ui|;ent necessity; as, for iuitauce, during tho:

CONSTl¥<mOir AKO SeSOXTBCES OF THB BRinSH SMPIBB.

it hkppmi
noted on m
■nay »» ««-
MM! of the
iiomotod to
imminioned
y or landed
leir oommii-
ihough both
by prerioue
kheir profee*
B excellence
above all, a
ir, that the
ih forcei re-
tstancei. It
ily accoutred
m the field.
Iconsiitedof
oned officen,
)0. The an<
ii at preient
! addol what
, or the army
he secretary-
hief and his
A act paued
),000 is paid
;]ompany, on
Old peniions,
; in respect of
I applied to-

The pay of
im ls> 94a. to
ls.4d.;inthe
f of the line,
I, 6d. a day is
eceives three-
ind of bread,
autrements is
y, however, is
in the case of
a week from

tm all other

ny, which is

t>loyed. But

ched to the

' like others.

her been long

|en renowned

of its war

Its its autho-

Iglobe. It is

1 dominion of

ch. The

ttty over

I although at

The British

I manner as

' anomaly,

from their

tssels. This

resorted to'

\, during th«

heat of war. The sailors who enlist are generally
yoanc men who have served an apprenticeship on board
merohant vessels; and with this preparation, they form
seamen of the hichest qualifications : their courage,
integrity, and kind-heartedness, are a luting theme of
national gratulation. At present the total force of the
navy amounts to 43,000 men; of whom seamen 27,600,
boys 2000, marines afloat fiSOO, marines ashore 8000.
To these are to be added about 900 employed officers.
The average pay of a sailor is £\, 14s. per month,
with victuals, which are estimated at about £\, 4s.
additional. Much complaint is made of the high sala-
ries paid to people about the dockyards; the master-
workmen receiving £250 per annum, and the artificers
from 5s. to 12s. 6d. per day. During the war with
France, Great Britain had upwards of 1000 ships,
manned by 184,000 seamen.

In November 1848, the royal navy consisted of 673
vessels, of which the following were in ammiuion : —
19 first-rates, of from 120 to 100 guns each, mounting
2216 guns; 76 second and third-rates, of from 104 to
70 guns each, mounting 6196 guns; 126 fourth, fifth,
and sixth-rates, of from 66 to 18 guns each, mounting
1878 guns; 79 sloops, of from 18 to 8 guns each,
mounUng 986 guns; 16 brigs, of from 8 to 3 guns each,
mounting 78 guns. Steamers — 22 ships and frigates,
with an aggregate power of 12,222 horses, and mount-
ing 281 guns; 42 sloops, of an aggregate power of
13,300 horses, uid mounting 261 guns; 38 gun-vessels,
of an aggregate power of 6748 horses, and mounting
126 guns; 2 screw-schooners, whose joint power is 120
horses, and mounting '20 guns; steam -guardships,
classed as fourth-rates, 3800 horse-power. Grand total,
420 vessels, mounting 16,026 guns. Of this force 104
are steam-vessels, propelled by engines of an ag^gate
power of 36,180 horses. This return does not include
the mail flotilla of Dover, Holyhead, Liverpool, other
stations, ftc. Ships in ordinary are vessels which are
dismantled, and put aside in a harbour, with only a few
persons on board to take care of them. A ship in ser-
vice, or even thus taken care of, will waste and rot, it is
said, in fourteen or sixteen years; but a plan has lately
been devised by which those not in service may be
hauled up out of the water, and placed under cover,
which it is expected will make them last much longer.

The cost of^ vessels of war in building is from about
£40,000 to £110,000, according to dimensions. An
80-gun ship costs for hull £54,900, for rigging and
stores £16,005— total, £70,905. A ship of this size,
with a complement of 750 men, costs per annum, for
pay of officers and wages of seamen, £19,812; for pro-
visions, £13,325; for rigging and stores, £3201; for
wear and tear of hull, £3660— total, £39,998. This
is exclusive of charge for ordnance and marines. The
naval estimates for the year 1849 were £7,961,842.
Dividing this sum by 262, the number of ships and
vessels in commission, it appears that the average cost
per annum of each vessel is £31,554. These parti-
culars are mentioned, in order that the people may
have a proper notion of the expenses at which naval
armaments are maintained.

There are six marine arsenals or dockyards — Dept-
ford, Woolwich, Chatham, Sheemess, Portsmouth, and
Plymouth. The principal foreign stations for the navy
are Gibraltar and Malta in the Mediterranean ; Halifax
and Quebec in North America; Jamaica and Antigua
in the West Indies; and Trincomalee and Bombay in
the East Indies.

AQBICULTURB — MANUFACTUREa — COMMERCE.

In consequence of the industry exerted in Britain
for several centuries, the greater part of the soil is now
in a high state of cultivation and fertility; roads, rail-
ways, and canals, for carriage and communication, are
everywhere formed; substantial farmsteads, villages,
and large and populous towns, stud the surface; har-
bours, docks, factories, foundries, and other useful
erections, unequalled in number and extent, form a
chief feature of the country; and manufactured pro-

ducts of every description are produced in astonishing
quantitiet— thus conferring not only upon the inhabi-
tants, but upon the people of other countriei, an amount
of comforts and luxuries hitherto unknown.

Out of a total of 77,000,000 of acres in the British
islands, 47,000,000 ai« cultivated, 15,000,000 uncul.
tivated, and 16,000,000 incapable of cultivation, accord-
ing to our present notions of agriculture. The value
of the cultivated soil has been estimated at about
£1,700,000,000; of mines, at £120,000,000; of roads, ca-
nais, and other meansof communication, at£lSO,000,000;
of dwellings, factories, and kindred erections, at
£640,000,000; of annusl agricultural produce and im-
plements, at £224,000,000; of horses, cattle, sheep,
and other live-stock, at £242,000,000; of manufactured
goods, at £190,000,000; of mercantile shipping, at
£85,000,000; of foreign merchandise paid for, at
£53,000,000; and of fisheries, foreign ana domestic, at
£6,000,000; being a total of productive propertpamaunt-
ing to more than £3,000,000,000! Besides this enor-
mous sum, it is supposed that the nation possesses, of
unproductive property, including waste lands, house-
hold furniture, apparel, ornamental articles, coin, &c.
£680,000,000; and of public property, as chunshes,
hospitals, prisons, artenals, forts, military stores, dock-
yards, ships of war, ke. £106,000,000; being a grand
total of £4,124,000,000!

The large amount of useful and agreeable things
represented by this sum, and which afford subsisttaoe
and comfort to more than 27,000,000 of people, are, let
it be carefully observed, the reatdt* qf bwour; in other
words, the difference between the country in its primi-
tive state, and the condition which it has attained after
nearly 2000 years of well-directed ingenuity and toil.
Against this sum, however, must be placed the National
Debt, amounting to more than £790,000,000. This
debt is no doubt owing to individuals widiin the na-
tion, and who spend the interest arising from it in the
country; but it does not the less on that account repre-
sent a portion of the results of industry bestowed in
such a manner as to produce no return.

The people engaged in agrieuUurt and other rural
employments are necessarily spread over the whole of
the cultivated parts of the country. Of these, the
farmers or leasers of the ground are in general much
superior in wealth and style of living to the farmers of
any other country in the world; being generally, to a
certain extent, capitalists, who employ labourers to
perform the actual business of rural economy. The
annual value of the produce raised in EIngland — namely,
crops, gardens, grass, and woodlands — is estimated at
£141,000,000; in Scotland, at £28,000,000; and in
Ireland, at £217.000,000.

In manufactures and commerce, Britain has long
enjoyed a superiority over all other countries. For
this the nation has been indebted not only to their
naturally industrious dispositions, and the enlightened
men who have in the course of time invented mwihinery
for increasing and cheapening the products of labour,
but, as already stated, to the extraordinary abundance
of mineral substances requisite for manufactures, and
to the insular nature of the country, which admits of
ready maritime communicatiou with other regions. In
consequence of these advantages combined, Britain has-
for a long time furnished articles of clothing and house-
hold conveniency to many parts of the world, receiving
in exchange either money or raw produce which its own
soil and cUmate do not permit of being grown.

The cotton manufacture, notwithstanding that the
raw material can be obtained only in distant parts of
the earth (America, the East Indies, and Egypt), has
risen in Great Britain, during seventy years, from
about £200,000 of annual prcduce, to the enormous
sum of £36,000,000, of which about two-thirds is
exported. Cotton goods are manufactured chiefly by
means of machinery, in large factories, of which, in
1839, there were 1603 in England and Wales, 192 in
Scotland, and 24 in Ireland; the chief seats of the
manufacture being Manchester, Glasgow, and Paisley,

186

OBAionM DoroBicAnoir fok tme noptj.

Thaw AwtoriM gtin mplojmtni in «••»«««• y^ *•
a«»,000 DMMMi, of whom upwMdf of 1 a,000 wot* btlow
tUrtoon ■•nan of h*' Co^^mi coodi m« sIm muu-
fMtund by hMtdloom w«»t«m, of whom » confldewble
xvralMr cmitinao to itrirt HtKinat tho oroipowtniig
•ompotitioBofmachlneir. ...... ,, . ,

Tho wmUm mMiufiMtura, which ii tho oldett in
BriUin, WM eurriod on in 1889 bjr 86,411 pertoni, in
17S8 faotorioii of which 1595 were in England and
Walet. 113 in Seotland, and 31 in Ireland— JointW
laalidax an annual falue of about £25,000,000. This
•mount indudee of oouree all loita of woollen and
wonted etuffl — ai broadclothi, tweedi, blanketing*,
flannalf, oarpete, hoaieij — in fine, all artiolee into
which wool enten ae the principal ingredient. Of such
goodf not left than £8,250,000 iterling are now an-
nnaliy exported from Britain. The woollen manufac-
ture, particularly ttie finer kindi, if chiefly carried on
in the wait and north of England; both fine and coarse
iUirici are now made at OalaahieU in Scotland; and
Kilmaraock and Stirling drive a thriring trade in car-
pete, bonnet!, fee. lu the finest kind of broadcloth*,
the PruMiane are laid itill to excel the Engliih.

The Hnm manufacture haa alio been long proaecuted,
eapecialljr in England and Scotland; but until of late
yMtr* ita progreaa haa been inconaiderable, compared
with that of our other manufacture*. No very accu-
rate atatiitic* of the trade can be obtained, in conae-
quenoe of hand-power being employed to a large extent
both in the apinning and weaving of the material. In
1839 there were 169 flax factoriea in operation in Eng-
land, 188 in Scotland, and 41 in Ireland — employing
reapectirely 16,000, 18,000, and 9000 handa. Accord-
ing to Mr M'Culloch, the entire value of the linen
manufacture of the United Kingdom in 1847 did not
exceed £10,000,000.

The tilk manufacture, introduced by French immi-
granta in the aixteenth century, ia carried on to a great
extent at Spitalfielda, Cioventiy, Manchester, Pusley,
and Glaagow. Silk enter* into ao many articles, either
whole or as a component part, and ia ao widely spread
over the kingdom, that any estimate formed of the
value of the manufacture roust be regarded merely a*
an approximation. Standard authorities estimate tho
annual value at upwards of £10,000,000 — about one-
tenth of which i* exported. There were, in 1846, 150
mill*, employing about 35,000 person* of all ages.

The htmhoare manufacture la one in which the me-
tallic and mineral wealth of the country, combined
with the akill of British workmen, have long given ua a
pre-eminence over other nations. Iron to the amount
of more than 1,000,000 tons waa, in 1(142, prepared
from British mines, for the purpoae of being manufac-
tured into machinery, raila, ateam-shipa, domestic uten-
aila, firearms, cutlery, and other articles of oonToniency.
The manufacture of the finer clan of hardware is chiefly
seated at Birmingham and Sheffield ; machinery, ship-
building and the like, at Birmingham, Manchester,
Liverpool, Glaagow, and Dundee ; while the principal
foundries for the preparation of the crude material are
in Stirlingshire, Lanarkshire, Wales, and StaflJordshire.
The annual value of hardware now manufactured in
Britain is estimated at £18,000,000, giving employment
to 800,000 hands. Thia ia exrluaive of watohea, plate,
articles of jewellery, &c. which are valued by Mr Jacob*
at aomewhere about £3,000,000.

The miscellaneous manufactures of the country are
ao numeroua and complicated, that it is impossible to
farm anything like a correct estimate of their respective
values. LetUher roods, for example, have b«en set
down at an annual value of £16,000,000 ; earlltenware
and cAhm at £2,500,000 ; paper at £2,000,000 ; and
aimilM valnationa hare been put upon glaaa, soap, malt
liquors, hx. ; but all such estimates must be regarded
as mere approximations. ' It is to be regretted,' says
Mr M'Culloch, * that there are no means of forming
any estimate of the real value of the manufactured
articles annually produced in Great Britain and Ire-
land. But the pievioua statements ahow that it must
186

b« vtnr graat. Than aiti in ikot, bnt few dapMimntt
in which w« are able to obtain a tolerably oloao ap<
proximation to th« groaa value of the aitiolaa prodoead ;
and even though wo could do thia in them all, the re-
Bttlta would not be of ao much value aa ia commonly
auppoaed, and might indeed, unlcH aul^eoted to further
examination and analyais, lead to the moat ononooua
oonduaiona. It ia auppoaed by many, that whatever
may be the annual value of our manufactured good*,
we shall, by adding it to tho annual value of our afri-
cultural products, get the total value of the new oom-
moditiea annually produoed in the empire. But this
ia an error. The value of the Britiah wool, for example,
employed in tho woollen manufacture, may amount
to from £5,000,000 to £5,500,000 a year, and forma
an item of thia amount in eatimating the value of the
manufacture. It is plain, however, that if we inelude
this wool in any estimate of the agricultural produce
of the country, we must exclude it ttom that of its
manufactured produce; for if we do not, it will be
reckoned twice over. The same thing happens in a
vast variety of coses. Hence the extreme diiffioulty of
fonning any fair estimate of the real value of mn ly
apeciea of manufactures.'

The eommeret of BritMn ia conducted by veaaela be-
longing to private partiea within the realm, or in other
countries. In 1845, the mercantile navy of the home
country and its colonies consisted of nearly 82,000
vessels, of more than 3,500,000 of aggregate tonnage.
We obtain, however, a more distinct idea of the extent
of the national commerce from a calculation of the
number of vessels, British and foreign, which in 1845
enterod and departed from British harboura. These
were— of British, 21,000 ; of foreign, 11,600, compre-
hending an aggregate of above 6,000,000 of tonnage.
The chief mercantile port of Britain ia London, aftisr
which Liverpool, Dublm, Bristol, Leith, Hull, Glasgow,
Newcastle, Greenock, and Belfast, rank in auccesaion.
Duties exceeding £11,000,000 are annuall,<- paid to
government for goods imported into London ; itnd har-
bour dues to the amount of £150,000 were collected in
1830 for vessels in the docks at Liverpool.

The following table exhibits the <luaBtitiea of the Prinelpal
Articles of Foreign and Colonial Herohandiie entered for Con-
sumption in the year* ending January fi, 1847 and 1848 :—

Live Cattle,

Sheep, ....
Beef, ....
Butter, ....
CheeM, ....

Cocoa,

Coffoe, ....
Com: Wheat,

Wheat-flour,

Barley, ....

OaU, - - . .
Cotton-wool,
Flax and Hemp,
Fruit: Radna,

Cnrraati,

Oranges, ...
Hides, ....

Lintseed qr$.

Oil: Whale, .... tutu

Palm, aet

Olive, hint

Pepper, Its,

No.
So.
ctet,
evrl.
nvt.
Ibi.
Ibi.
qn.
act.
qrt.
qn.
act.
ewt.
■ act,
act.
cMetU
act.

Rice,
Saltpetre,
Silk, raw, itc. -
bpirita: Rum,

Brandy,
Sugar: Colonial, •

Eait India, -

Foreign, -

Molaoaee,
Tallow,
Tea,
Timber, Colonial,

Foreign,
Tobacco,
Wine, -
Wool, Bhacps', -

act.

cut,

Ibt.

gait.

act.

act

ad.

CTPt.

ewt

Ibt.
loadt
loadt

At.
palt.

Ibt.

1847.

48,269

M,S87

176,Me

aS5,U0

3(7.490

8,968,387

36,781,301

1,985,868

3,384,434

400,443

778.6S4

4.176.327

1,146,743

>a8,«47

359.316

334,899

4IS,81S

608,830

16,667

367,064

8,639

S,S»7,431

446,961

469,086

8,717,363

9,683,615

1,615,054

3,186,8tf

1,443,831

608,771

688,666

1,188,439

46,798,908

1,918,615

707,338

97,001,908

6,973.608

M.I17.86B

184a

75,338
139,876
117.601
315,094
365,503
3,107,164
37,470,879

4,297,089

1,049,541

918,541

331,460

330,068

433,536

99,616

476,401

8,<a8

9,066,803

6111,375

3,3i»,940

1,537,768

3,638,675

1,183,563

075,545

638,693

1,079,307

46,394,998

1,067,301

774,591

86,759,051

6,310,536

08,130,307

COKBTlTtlTION AHD BXBOtBOlS OF THB BBITIBH BMPIBS.

d«pwtiMiit«
dyoloM ftp-
It pradaoMlt
•11, th* n-
• oommonly
td to further
Mtanonwui
»t whattrtr
tur«d goodi,
of our acri-
he new oom-
re. But thii
for exftmple,
mftj ftinounk
', ftod forme
Tftlue of the
If we inolude
urftl produce
1 tkftt of it!
I, it wUl be
iftppene in •
I cuffioulty of
ilue of mAoy

tjTeeieli be-
ll, or in other
of the home
early 82,000
{•te tonnftge.
of the extent
lation of the
rhich in 1845
)oun. These
,600, compre-
of tonnage.
London, ftfter
[uU, 01fti((ow,
in lucceMion,
xiMj" paid to
Ion ; and har-
le collected in
ll.

)f (he Prinelpel
intend for Con-
id 1848 :—

184a

06!

78.338

S67

139,876

1M»

117,601

190

S1S.8M

490

36S,S03

387

3,107,164

aei

37,470,879

WIS

...

484

...

443

..*

5S4

327

4,S37,l)i»

743

1,049,841

647

919,541

SIS

331,450

330,069

...

433,836

»7

99,616

)S4

476,401

138

8,698

161
MS

9,966,803

819,378

3,3»,940

1,637,769

146

3,039,678

1,183,S63

978,848

638,693

1,079,307

46,394,998

1,067.301

774.S91

96,782,051

6.310,836

e9.1!)0,807

Beeldea teft, wine, and rag>r, the importi of Britain
eenelet chiefly of raw materiali for manufactureei while
the ezporte an almoH exdueirely manufkctured goode.
The greateek quantitr of importe ii from America ; the
gieatoal quantity of exportc to the laroe part of the
world. Tea, to the weight of 44,000,000 Ibe., ii ob-
tained from China; wine, to the amount of 6,000,000
gallona (in 1848), chiefly firom Portugal and Spain;
augar, to the ralue of ilZ.OOO.OOO aterling, ia exdu-
aively imported from the Weat Indiea ; cotton, in ita
taw state, ia obtained chiefly from the United Statea,
Of wool, the coaraer aort ia obtained at home, while the
finer kinda are imnorted from Oermaay and Auatralia.
Tallow, hemp, and timber, to the value of £4,000,000,
are annually imported from Russia.

Th0 aniHM/ esporit of natiTe produce of the United
Kingdom are valued at about je60,000,000, and the re-
exports (of goods pivTiously imported) at £16,000,000
— tetol £76,000,000. The annual importa are valued at
about £75,000,000, thua leaving a balance of £1,000,000
in favour of the United Kingdom to be paid in money.
Thia balance, however, ia aubject to many cauaee of
fluctuation. Of the £60,000,000 of exporta, upwarda
of£I4,000,000 ate aent to Northern Earope;£ll,000,000
to Southern Europe; £1,600,000 to Africa; £11,200,000
to Aaia; £7,000,000 to the United Statea; £5,600,000
to our North American Coloniea and the Weat Indiea;
£1,200,000 to foreign Weat Indiea; and £5,400,000 to
Southton and Central America. Our beat customers
are the United States, taking £7,000,000; the East
Indies, £7,000,000; Oermany, £6,000,000; Holland,
£4,000,000; British North America, £3,000,000; and
the West Indies, £2,500,000. The countries nrnkine
next in order, and receiving between £2,000,000 and
£3,000,000 of our exports, are France, Italy, Turkey,
China, West Indies, Brazil, and Russia. Of the pro-
duce so exported, cotton eoods yield the largest value;
after which woollen gooia, iron and iteel, hardwares,
linen, brass and copper manufactures, arms and am-
munition, rank in succession.

The following table exhibits the Declared Value of Principal
Articles of British and Iriih Produce and Manufactures,
Exported in the Years ending January 8, 1847 and 1848 :—

Deelarsd Value of MUah BBilrWi Predaee bM MsMlMtwsak
■sported la tke Veers 1844, 1841. and 1848 1~

COVMTallS.

AlkaU, - -
Apotheoaries' Wares, -
Appard, -

Arms, Anmiunition, •
Beer, Ale,

Book

BroM and Copper, •
Butter, Cheese, •
Coals, Culm, -
Cordage, ...
Cotton Mannftftctures,
Cotton Yam, . -
Barthenware,
Fish, - . . .
Olau,

Haberdashery, -
Haidwares, -
Hats. - . . .
Horses, ...
Iron, Bteel, -
Iiead and Shot,
Leather, Saddlery,
Linen Manufactures,
Linen Yam,
Maohinery, •
Oil, Lintseed, Sec.
Painters' Colours, -
Plate, Jewellery,
Salt

BilkManufaetures, -
Soap, Candles,
BtetioDery, •
Sugar, refined.
Tin Wares, ko. -
Wool, Bheeps',
Woollen Manufaetures,
Woollen Yam,
Other Articles, -

Totals, -

1847.

£159,412
884,993
758,279
484,711
381,799
174,339

1,558,187
811.2US

gc7,iai

129,726

17,717,778

7,882,048
793,166
339,305
269,547
874,585

9,180,588
117,778
111,159

4,178,02(i
147,170
432,926

9,830,808
878,405

1,117.471
95,740
213,620
945,»W
905,005
837,577
205,090
976,589
399,404
767.307
342,455

6,335,103
908,270

9,029,078

1840.

£211,830
296,406
712,904
483,647
403,759
200,530

1,841,868

175,102

968,508

154,990

17,375,245

5,957,980
834,357
875,858
291,188

1,111,625

8,341,961
185,813
103,073

6,265,779
179,344
465,527

9,958,851
649,893

1,963,016
235,148
283,848
883,037
861,467
985,626
818,134
305,243
413,437
643,644
288,831

6,806,038

1,001,364

8,878,983

1*41

British Amerioa,
... W.Indies,
Jersey, Man, he.
Gibraltar, -
MalU,

Ionian Islands,
Cape of Qood Hope,
Bt Helena, *o.
Mauriths,
British India.
Australia,
New 2^aland,

Russia,
Sweden,
Norway, -
Denmark,
Prussia, .
Oemany, -
Holland, -
Bslginm,
France,
Portugal,

Aiores,

... Madeira, ■
Bpoln,

... Canaries, -
Italy, Biclly, Ac.
Turkey and Qreeoo,
Syria,
Hgypt. •

West Coast of Africa,
China,

Sumatra, Java, itc.
Philippines, -
Haytl, -
Cuba, Sic.
United States, -
Mexico,

New Granada, Ate.
Brazil,

La Plata States,
Chili, -
Peru,
Other places,

Total,

3,070,H1

8,481,477

888,760

1,048,887

900,000

li3,9H

414,151

83,303

9BS.8M>

7,608,066

744,488

47,819

16,806,368

8,198,916

106,475

159,814

986,670

505,384

6,151,828

.1,131,870

1.471,851

9,656,959

1,153,847

86,8.19

31,738

500,807

46,313

9,568,140

2,319,605

577.828

408,101

458,414

8,305,617

376,918

92,517

174.457

999,474

7,938.079

494,095

8,413',KI8
784,564
807,633
658.380
314,218

1848.

1846.

3,888,954
1,760,111

970,aa4

70O.97S
183,068
800,619
648,748
89,938
948,080

«,703,77a

1,801,076
43,048

16,887,304

9,153,481

183,730

163.518

856,586

877,989

8,817.796

3.430,038

1,479,088

8,791,238

900,380

60,938

«7,507

676,836
48,878

9,601,911

8,846,858
631,631
991,880
838,028

8,304,887
818,473
118,618
818,078

1,849,018

7,148,830
847,130
390,149

9,493,306
898,879

1,077.618

878,708

56,335

3,308,06»
*.80l,887

«4,ae7
W8,aM
955,0.1a
171,731

480,079

31,416

310,831

6,449,060

1,441,840

8a.7M

16,017.700

1,78B,14«

I46,6M

183,818

340,318

844,038

6,606,838

S,4V,48P

1,118,094

8,718^163

060,787

87,148

30.3aa

780,787

u.8m

3,301,089

3.138,308

867,618

408,674

481,680

1.701.430

357,018

08,808

196,119

1,308,939

6330.480

303,688

479,107

9,749,338

959,388
820,638
339.473

58.584.292 80.111,082 57.786,876

Account of Registered Shipping belonging to the Empire on the
5th Jon. 1848, and Ships built during the previous Year.

Ships RegUtered.

Ships Built.

1847.

England,
Scotland. -
Ireland. -
Jowy. Man, &c.
Colonies,

Tons.
• 476,531
612,866
865.656
83.568
644,603

Men.
138,096
30,648
14,538
8,706
43,906

Ships.

749

161

660

Tons.

118,808

30,744

8,884

4,090

116.487

Totals, -

3,952,.';24

232,890

1641

266.411

The number of rrpUltna Ships belonfring to the British Empiie

on December 31. 1840. was 32,499, and 1847, 38,988.
Account of Shipping employed in the Foreign and Colonial Trade

of the United Kingdom in the Year ended January 8, 1848,

stated exclusively of Ships in Ballast.

£87,786,878 £58,971,186

Countries to which

Entered Inwards.

Cleared Outwards.

Ships belonged.

1847.

Ships.

Tons.

Ships.

Tons.

British Empire,

18,771

4.838.086

15,538

3.805,794

United States,

1,303

636.384

879

518,893

Prussia,

1,3S1

876,563

878

158,064

Norwiiy,

1.316

808,198

568

64,638

Denmark,

1,701

129,107

1,626

126,626

Russia,

330

80,420

166

48,600

Holland,

694

58,445

745

78,754

Belgium,

841

34,846

278

41,689

Prance, -

856

49,623

8,428

804,813

Other States,

8,998

379,176

9.461

286,070

TotaU,

89,661

6,091,062

8S,664

4,719,241

187

OBAMBISM nrfOBMATIOK fOB TBI PSOPLI.

AwKwnt of Milpphifl impiojM i> «•• OomMat **«•«» "^.V"
ti»M Juiuwy I, IMI, itoua raeludMly rf Bhlpt la Itallut.

RmployMlbalwMn Bri-
tain and IralMid.
OtllW CouUnf nUp*.

Tbtali.

EBtaf*)! Inwanli.

IM7.

•blp*.
134,440

14>,M1

Tonik

l,IM,aiO
IO,iM3,18a

lf,ll»,7tM

CTMnd Outward*,

1847.

Bhiph

17,«U
I4U,M(7

IU,I»S

Ton*.

«,047..il)7
11,118,1311

t3.M5,afS

Th* eurtmu^ or MOiMy of the United Kingdom it
»bontje20,OOO,dOO of sold and lilTcrcoin, and £32,000,000
of bftnk-notM, chieflir of tlie ralue of five nnd ten
poundf— total, £S8,000,000. Ai nearly all large pay-
ment!, bowerer, are made by billi of exchange and
dniii on bankers, there it an nuorniouily laree cur-
rancy of that kind. It hat been calculated that the
amount of billt, promitiory-notei, and bankert' drafts
in circulation at any one time cannot be much leu
than £122,000,000. The centre of all the great monev
traniactiont of the Britith Empire it London, in which
it tituated the Dank of Ensland, or principal banking
inititution. The amount or foreign and inland billt of
exchange and drafts payable in London daily, it esti-
mated at £4,000,000. In Scotland, which it celebrated
for itt well-conducted banking inttitutiont, the money
currency it chiefly one-pound uank-notet and tilror.

On tne 7th of October 1041), the note circulation
of the United Kingdom wai at follows: — Bank of
England, £17,605,718; private bankt, £3,681,544;
joint-ttock bankt, £2,666,749; Scotland, £3,136,516;
Ireland, £4,506,421. The money coined in 1847 con-
tilted of 110,400 Ibt. gold. Yielding £5,158,440; of
38,100 Ibt. lilver, yieldmg £125,730; and of 40 tont
copper, yielding £4960.

In all partt of the United Kingdom there are now
National Securitiet Savings' Banks, for the safe cut-
tody of amall tumt, the savings of labour, and for
which the national credit is pledged. The amount of
deposits, chiefly the property of the humbler orders of
the community, is now upwards of £.'!2,000,000, and is
annually increasing. In 1845, the number of indivi-
dual depositors wot considerably above 1,000,000.

PUBLIC WORKS, CA^ALS, RAILROADS, DOCKS, &C.

Connected with our manufactures, are the great works
of the ciril-engineer — canals, roads, docks, bridges,
piert, &c. — workt which attest, more obviously than
any othert, the activity, power, and resources of the
country. It ia to the facility of internal communica-
tion afforded by these works, that the heaviest goods,
though manufactured in the interior of the country,
can be carried to seaports for exportation, without
any burdensome addition to their price ; and that ma-
terials for their different manufactures can be carried
to inland towns from seaports, by canals or railroads,
with the same advantage ; while intelligence can be
conveyed between the principal toivns and seaports in
the course of a few minutes, without that loss of time
and opportunity which is so valuable in a highly-com-
petitive country.

The length of the turnpike roads of England and
Wales would, if joined together, form a continuous
line of above 26,000 miles in length. The expenditure
of the trustees on account of these roads, in 1841,
amounted to £1,551,336; the revenue for the same
year being £1,574,518: of the total expenditure,
£302,182 went to defray the interest of debt, which, in
1829, amounted to £5,578,815 I The length of the
various cross roads and other highways in England
and Wales is estimated at about 104,000 miles. In
Scotland the aggregate length of the turnpike roads is
estimated at 3700 miles; and the cross roads in toler-
able repair at about 10,000 miles. Of the roads in
Ireland there are no accurate statistics; but great im-
provementt have recently been effected under the
fuperinteudence of the Board of Public Woiki. Since

the Introduction of railways, statistics in roferenc* to
the traffic and passengers on tha tumpiks roads are
oomparatirely valueless unless for mere local purposes.
The traffic and revenue of the chief lines are rapidly
falling away, and this circumstance loudly calls for
some other mode of maintenance than the expansive
and obstructive exaction of toll dues.

The navigable eaitals used for the transport of goods
and produce in Ensland aloii«i are estimated at 2200
miles in length, while the navigable rivers exceed 1800
miles— making together mora than 4000 miles of inland
navigation, the (greater part of which has been erected
or rendered available within the last eighty years.
Scotland possestei about 200 milet of navigable canal;
and though the phyiical character of the country is
unfavouraole to this species of inland communication,
the want is less felt in consequence of the numerous
firths and arms of the tea which iutertect thit portion
of tho island. The whole extent of navi;;able oanalt
available in Ireland doet not exceed 30U milet, and
including river navigation, the entire water communi-
cation falls short of 500 milet. * What the condition
of that fertile country might become,' roniarki Mr
Porter, ' if itt means of communication were placed
upon an equal footing with those of the midland and
southern counties of England, is a question of the
highest interest to every one who has at neart the moral
and intellectual advancement of the Irish people, and,
as a consequence, the general prosperity of the United
Kingdom.' In 1829 tho revenue arising from the
canals of England and Scotland exceeded £13,000,000,
which, besides keeping them in repair, afforded an
average profit to the proprietors of 5} per cent, on their
original capital; but in consequence ol the greater faci-
lities afforded by railways, a great decline has taken
place in the value of most canals. Various projects
are now, indeed, on foot for converting some of the
principal lines into railways, or for making them sub-
sidiary to, or dependent on, the latter.

The bridga, aqueducts, and tunneli, which have been
erected in connection with roads, canals, and rail-
ways, are more magnificent and numerous than those
of any other country in the world. To estimate their
number would be difiicult ; but we may mention, that,
in London, the Waterloo and London Bridces alone
cost very nearly £2,500,000 of money. The iron
bridges which have been erected in different places,
are the admiration of all foreigners. Their arches are
constructed of a number of strong ribs of metal, standing
apart from each other like the joists of a house, and qn
these the floor or roadway is forme<l. Bridges of sus-
pension are now also common, in which the roadway is
suspended by iron bars, from strong chains which are
fixed in the earth, and then hung over high pillars nt
each end of the bridge ; by this means bridges can be
constructed over deep and broad waters, where it would
have been altogether impossible to stretch an arch of
any other kind. On a well-frequented road, bridges
costing £14,000 or £18,000 are often constructed
merely to shorten the distance by a mile or two, or to
avoid an inconvenient ascent in the old track. Were
it possible to estimate the amount of capital laid out
on this kind of improvement alone, it would be-almost
incredible. (See Inland Conveyance, Vol. I.)

Railways. — From an analysis of tho traffic of Great
Britain, given in the report of the Commissioners of
Railways to Parliament in the year ending June 1847,
it appears that in that year there were conveyed by rail-
ways — 47,484,134 persons; 7,000,000 tons of mer-
chandise and goods ; 8,000,000 tons of coal ; 500,000
homed cattle; 1,500,000 sheep; and 100,000 horses.
In the same year the average distance travelled bv each
person by railway was 16 miles. The gross receipts of
3207 miles of railway in the year ending June 1847
amounted to £8,326,772 (excluding Irish lines), or at
the rate of £2596 per mile. The capital expended on
British railways up till the end of 1848 is estimated
at about £200,000,000 ; and when all now in course of
conttructiou are completed, it ia calculated that tho

CONSTITUTION AND RESOUROEB OP THE BltlTlSH EMPIBE.

ROM unnal nrcnao will «xoe«d XlS,000,O0Ot In
1049 the revniua from 17084 mil'o of rallwajr wm
£4,A8A,1R9; In 1R45, 31181 mllei yuidad £6,J09,714;
•lid in 1847, 3207 inilet produced £8,326,772— »■> in-
creMe which point! out in the moit forcible manner
the enercpr, power, and capacity of our country. Con>
nected with nioit of the linei of railway are electric
telegraphi, either for conTeying deipatohee in connec-
tion with the working of the linoi, or for the purpote of
public coinmuuication. The recent adoption or theie
ndjuncti prereuts anything lilie Aill or accurate ita-
tiitioi ; but some idea of their importance may be
gleaned from the fact, that any ordinary buiinen trani-
action between parties in Edinburgh and Loudon can
be coinnienced, negotiated and completed in the brief
ipace of a couplo of houn t

Dock$, Piti$, and Lightkouiei.—Dockt are artificial
baaina built of itone for the reception of ship* : they
are of two kinds— wet and dry. A dry dock ii a recep-
tacle where vesieli are built or repaired; after which
the tide ii admitted by flood-gatei, and they are floated
out to tea. Wet dockt are conitructed for the uie of
■hips when loading and unloading, it being found that
when they are allo«red to settle down unequally on the
mud or sand of rivers and harbours, their timben are
■trained, and the Tessels considerably damaged; in the
wet docks they are kept always afloat. The sums laid
out by some of the dock companies in London are im-
mense. The capital expended by the London Dock
Company in purchasing ground (chiefly the sites of
houses and streets) was more than jC 1,000,000 ; and
the whole cost of the works was £3,938,310.

The docks at Liverpool have an area of water of
about 112 acres, and the quay space is nearly eight
wiles in total length. The business transacted may
be coi\jectured from the fact, that the dues paid
by vessels entering the docks in 1840 was £197,477,
18s. 6d. Few of the laree seaports are without the
accommodation which docks yield to commerce; those
at Leith contain ten acres of water-room, and have cost
£285,108. It would be idle to attempt a description
or even enumeration of the immense number of piers
and harbours which have been constructed at the dif-
ferent seaports. At every place where the profits of
trade seemed to authorise such erections, capital was
seldom deficient to complete them.

The lighthouses of Britain are perhaps the most re-
markable part of the nautical apparatus of the islands.
The capital expended upon them has been large, and
the skill with which some of them, such as the Bell-
Rock and Eddystone lighthouses, are constructed for
durability in the midst of a tempestuous sea, could only
have been exhibited iu a countnr where mechanical
science existed in its hichest perfection; and there is
hardly a dangerous or doubtful point along the coast
where the mariner is not guided by a light on some
headland or rock. There is, however, n.uch complaint
concerning the dues levied from slipj for lighthouse
expenses; some of them are held as profitable tolls by
private families, and in others the money levied u
applied to purposes quite unconnected with lighting.

COLONIAL POSSESSIONS.

The foreign possessions of the United Kingdom are
infinitely more extensive and populous than the home
country. They are about forty in number, reckoning
all classes of foreign stations and possessions, and lie
iu every quarter of the globe. The oldest existing
colonies of Britain are those of the West Indies, con-
sisting of a number of the islands so called, the district
of Honduras, or Belize, on the adjacent coast of North
America, and Guiana in South America. These pos-
sessions are rich in every tropical produce, yielding
sugar, cofl^ee, tobacco, cotton, cabinet timber, spices,
fruits, drugs, and dye stufl's. Jamaica, the largest and
most important of these islands, has an area of more
than 5000 square miles, with a population of 380,000,
of which only about 88,000 are whites, the majority
Iwiug negroes, most of whom wore originally slave-

labourers. Trinidad, St Luola, Domlntea. BarbadoM,
and the other islands belonging to Britain, may orni-
tain an aggregate area of 83,000 square miles, with a
population or about 460,000, of which the greater pro-
portion are negroes and Creoles. Beliie Is a small
territory; but Uuiana has an are* of 67,000 square
miles, with a population of mure than 100,000.

Since the independence of the North American states
in 1776, the British posseseions In that eontinent lie*
wholly in the northern section, embracing the province
of Canada, the colonies of Nova Scotia, Cape Breton,
Prince Edward's Island, New Brunswick, and New-
foundlan<l, and the vast region stretching to the Polar
Ocean, at present occupied by savage tribes and the
trappers of the Hudson's Bay Company. The staple
products of these possessions are timber, hides, fish,
furs, and flour. The population, amounting in all to
somewhat more than a million and a-half, consists
chiefly of British emigrants and their descendants, with
a preponderance of French in Lower Canada, which
was originally colonised by that people.

In the Asiatic continent, 500,000 square miles of the
peninsula of Hindoostan, containing a population of
100,000,000, have, in the course of the last century and
the present, fallen under the power of the association
of English merchants called the East India Company,
who, by virtue of a charter from the government, ad-
minister the afl^airs of the natives, in whose revenue they
enjoy a source of vast wealth. A still larger portion of
the country is under the protection, but not the direct
government, of the Company. The island of Ceylon,
situated at the southern promontory of Hindoostan, and
containing an area of 24,450 square miles, with a po-
pulation of 1,250,000, is now one of the most valuable
of British possessions; it is a free colony — that is, not
connected with the East India Company — and is ra-
pidly improving. Besides these, Britain likewise pos-
sesses certain districts beyond the Gaiices, as Assam,
Aracan, some small settlements on the Tenasserim
coast and in the Straits of Malacca. The whole of
these are known by the common appellation of East
Indies; and from their geographical position, yield
every species of tropical produce, as sugar, coflTee,
tea, rice, silk, cotton, hardwoods, ivory, spices, fruits,
drugs, dye stufis, and the like. Goods to the value of
more than £6,000,000 sterliue are annually exported
from Britain to the East Indies; while goods to the
value of more than £8,000,000 are imported from the
East Indies to Britain.

In Australasia, the British settlements are those of
New South Wales, established in 1788; Swan River, in
1828 ; South Australia, in 1834 ; and North Australia,
in 1838. The adjacent island of Van Diemen's Land
(which contains 24,000 square miles, or somewhat lesa
than Ireland), is the seat of another British colony,
planted in 1824, and is altogether a thriving settle-
ment — being more hilly and JSetter watered than Aus>
tralia. New Zealand, composed of three contiguous
islands, ranging from 1100 miles in length, with a
breadth varying from 5 to 200, is also the seat of »
British colony planted iu 1 840 ; and if its internal
management were once fairly adjusted, it would pro-
bably rise to first-rate importance. The staple products
are wool, hides, hardwoods, grain, and copper.

At the Cape of Good Hope, Sierra Leone, Cape Coast,
and other parts of Africa, Britain possesses upwards of
200,000 square miles, with a population of 350,000.
Cape Colony, taken from the Dutch in 1806, is a thriv-
ing settlement, and may be said to be the only spot on
the vast continent of Africa in which modem civilisa-
tion haa been successfully planted. The Mauritius,
and some minor islands in the Indian Ocean, the
rocky islets of St Helena and Ascension in the Atlantic,
and Fernando Po in the Gulf of Guinea, constitute
the sum of British possessions connected with Africa.
Their principal products are ivory, gold, hides, honis,
sugar, coflTee, palm oil, teakwood, aloes, &c.

The Ionian Islands, the isles of Malta and Gozzo,
and the town and fortress of Gibtaltar, in the Mediter-

169

oBiJiiiMni moniAnov iob thi fiopli.

MOMn. ih« iilet of lI.Ji|okn<l In 4li« 0«ri««ii Oc.»»,
tiM ptniniuU of Adtn on tka wiiU com* of Ar»bl», th«
UUiof Hong-Kong mi »ho moolh of »h« twiton rlror m
Chill*, tht WMd of Ubtt«n off th« com» of l«oni.o and
tho Fklkluui Ulandi in Iko South Atl»n»lo, cumtitiito
tkt lum of BriHih foMUn iK«0MioM .nd a.p«nd.ncie.
All M* ft«« ofoirn ooIonlM otoopt Hindooitan, which
ii MTtrnad br, »nd under iribuU »o, tho KmI India
•CompMiys tho Company, howofor, beiiiK in louio me».
•UN eontrollod hy tho •iiprenie govitniinont and the
high ftinotiouariM whom it au|>ointt. With tho religion
and law uf England have l)«eu aenorallx iutroduced
tho Engliah language, uiagei, and niaimere. The co-
loniee poeeeee little or no independent power. They
are locally managed by goremore and other function*
ariee appointed by tho crown, and are lubicct to nunie-
roui legulatione impoied by the imperial Parliament,
or by the colonial Moretarv. Canada, Nora Scotia,
New Druniwick, Newfouuilland, Jamaica, and utkor
Weat Indian poMoiiioni, und the Cn\>9 of Uood Ilopo,
IndiTiduiilly poieoM loci^ legiilaturei, or parliaments,
by which rarioue internal concenii, luch aa making
roade, education, impoiition of duei on ithipping, kc,
to defiray expeniee, are managed. The colon iei are
not taxed to luuport the home govemmont, it being
a principle in tne constitution that there can be no
taxation without representation ; but they are sub-
jected to rarious customhouse duties and restrictions,
that greatly limit their capacity for improvement.
All the raw produce they can export, such as sugar,
coffee, timber, &c. is pennitted to outer British ports at
a duty much lower than the same kind of produce iVom
foreign countries. This preference is in one reii>ect
adTantageous to them ; however, they are at the same
time restricted in the purchase of various articles, ex-
cept from Britain and its possessions. Thev are also
prevented iVom raauufacturing certain kinds of pro-
duce; for example, the inhabitants of Jamaica cannot
refine their own sugar, but are compelliid to scud that
article to EuKl<i»d to be refined, and then buy it back
again. By these arrangements the colonies are, geiio-
rally speaking, in a state of tutelage, and cannot, with-
out a very great change in their affairs, start forward
in a course of prosperity; while we at home, by being
compelled to pay for their protection, and to buy their
high-priced produce, receive no adequate benefit from
their possession. The ostensible object of maintaining
a connection with the colonies, is to find an outlet for
British manufactures, and to employ shipping in the
transport of goods. It is, however, extremely doubtful
whether the expense incurred in supporting them is
not much greater than all the profit derived from com-
mercial intercourse. From the complicated method of
keeping the public accounts, it would be impossible to
present a connected statement of outlays on account of
the colonies; we shall therefore merely select a variety
of entries from different Parliamentary reports, aided
by information from other sources, in order to give a
general idea of the expenses incurred. The following
appear for the greater part in the accounts for 1847, anu
unless otherwise expressed, refer only to one year : —

Expenses of the Colonial Oflloe, I..10,I34. Paid to clergy in
North America, L.11,S78. Indian department, Canada, L.IA.OOO ;
railitia and volunteer! In Canada, L.U.OOO. [Under this bead,
from IKI7 to 1847, L.S,ie6,7'>6.] Balariei of govemon and others
In Wect Indies, L.UaM. Maglttrales, Weet Indiee, L.41,e00.
EoolMiaatical estsblUhment, Weet Indies, Ii.SO,3go. On account
of the civil lOTcmments— Bemiudas, L.401S i ntnce Edward's
Island, I..ia34| Nova Bootia, L.400i Falkland Islands, LJ480;
Bahamas, L.34I0; nelixolond, t.lOJB; Fort Badofton, L.IMO1
Hong Kong, L.eO.OOO [from 1841 to 1846, L.314,000] ; Western
Australia, L.TSIQ; Labuan, L.g8a7. Lighthouiee, Newfound-
land, L.4U0U. Colonial naval yards, L.48,913 ; victuoUIng
establiahments, L.93I0; medical establishments, L.BU3; re-
pairs and new works, L.137>4U. Transport of men and stores,
&0. L.8B7,6B0. Expenditure on Gibraltar and Malta in 1843-4,
I..360,000 ; works in progress there wUl cost L.46O,O0ti Expen-
diture in protecting the Ionian lalands, about L.13U,000 per
annum [value of the whole exports to them in 1844, L. 123,988].
Military expsndltoie on Cape of Ctood Hope In 1843-4, L.298,000 ;
190

naval espenditars, I,.l70,OM»-«a«ai, L.4«,«Mk ■■ pwa i l— «>
Mauritius la l«4S-t, L.«,awi eapMisss for dclMiess abo«l te be
laoun<d,l<.IMi,OUk MUllaryMpaadllurslaNewlMUaadlaeM
ytor. L.a70,«Wi eost of elvll govsmmeat, Ua8,00l>-lotal, hMtfiOO,
whtoh Is si the rate of about L.to a-heod of the Briliak popula>
tliin. Altogether, the direct espease of the saoUiar eoualry oa
account of the ooloalss may be safely set down at lh4,0IIO,aM)b

All the expenses, troubles, and anxieties Incurred on
account of the colonies are believed, we have said, to
be compensated by their purchase of our nianufacturts,
their reception of emigrant settlers, and the employ,
meut of our shipping. These supposed advantages mav
be examined aoparatelv. The declared value ofBrltlsa
and Irish prodiKC and manufactures, exported to tht
colonies from the United Kingdom in 1847, wo*

Heligoland,

I..UO

Olbraltor,

4«,Ma

Malta and Oozxa,

* 1(U,RW

Ionian Itlnnda, - . .

l43,4aH

Cape of Uood Hups, -

• (UlH,SHIi

Ascension and Bt Helens, •

31.378

Mauritius,

fS3,U3

Australian Bettlemcnts, •

1,844,170

North American Colonies,

- 3,>33,0I4

West Indies anil Oulana, -

• «,»«,»77

Honduras, ...

- 170.947

Falkland Islands,

a.oas

Total Exports,

I.,8,II0>,3n

Under nine milliont for the whole, even taking iuto
account the military dependencies. Therefore, for
every pound's worth of goods exported by our mer-
chauts, the country, in the form of taxes, pays 9s. But
as it loses also at least je3,000,000 on account of diffe-
rential duties, it may bo said to give X7,000,000, in
order to sell articles to the value of ^69,000,000. It
could be shown, however, that the colonies would con-
tinue to buy from us were the counectlon dissolved, or
greatly changed in character. The United States of
America oiice were colonies, and the trade with them
has vastly increased since they became independent.
While they were colonies, the exports to them were
latterly under £1,500,000; now they are upwards of
£10,000,000 per annum, and require ttom us neither
defence uor luanagoment. With regard to the outlet
which the colonies afford for our population, it appears.
Hays Sir William Molcsworth, ' that in the course of the
laHt twenty years, 1,673,003 persons have emigrated
from this country, of whom 83A,564 went to the United
States, 70'J,lOl to the North American colonies, 127,188
to the Australian colonies, and 19,0U0 to other places.'
One-half of all our emigrants, therefore, proceed to a
country which is not under our jurisdictiou; uor does
it appear that tho colonies are preferred by the other
half lu consequence of their connectiou with the British
government. Large numbers of those who emigrate to
Canada proceed afterwards into tho United State*. W«
have not seeu any statement of what benefit is derived
by British shipping IVom tho colonial connection ; but
whatever it is, there can bo uo doubt that the same num-
ber of ships would be employed in the export and im-
port trade, if the colonial connection was dissevered. In
fine, reckoning the expense of luilitaiy, naval, and civil
protection, along with the heavy loss incurred by our obli.
gation to buy their dear produce, it is calculated that in
ordinary times the people of Great Britain lose between
five and six millions annually by tho colonies.

India is not, Btrictly ajMaking, a colony or possession
of Britain. PoliticaUy it belongs to the Honourable
East India Company, an association of British mer-
chants, by whose servants it hag been conquered, and
is now locally governed, under the control and ap-
proval, however, of the crown, and a charter granted
by tho legislature. In virtue of an act of Parlia-
ment passed in 1893, the East India Company is gua-
ranteed the government of the British territories in
India until April 1854 ; the company is not to carry
on any trade; commerce to be open to British mer-
chaatB ; natunl-boni gubjecta of England may proceed

CONSTITUTION MSH RESOUROSi OF THE BBITISR EMPIRE.

•kowllob*

llMldtaOM

litUietfioo,

' aoualry oa
4,MM,0UO.

iicurr«d on
T« Mid, tu
iiufMturti,
i« amploy-
itftgw mvt
) of Brittih
i«d to th«

I..UO
4<M,Ma

iiu,aw

143,4M

oaii.WB

31,378

fl3,MI3

I,IM4,I70

3,133,014

»,ll«,»77

170.947

1,088

.8,009,381

Ipoueiiion

lonourable

ntUh mer-

jiered, uid

and ap-

br granted

Df Parlia-

Iny ii gua-

itories in

to carry

ttith mer-

ly proceed

to, Miila, and buy lands In India; and natlree of India,
of wbatavvr colour or religion, are to be eligible to office.
India aflbrdt no direct rerenue or tribute to Knglan<l,
aa oonquered eountrie* are in general fup|M>eed to do.
The only advantage! which we derire {torn our occu-
pation of theie linnieiiM countrlet, ara the undliputed
poeeeialon of their traJo, and the fortunee (ionieliinei
very large) eaved out of their ealarioi by Hrlliih tub-
Jeeti who are appointed to diicharge tbo dutiea of
goremment. It It to the trade of the country, how-
•Tir, that we muit look for any cnniiderable and per-
manent advant^kge ; and aa thii can only be made to
increase by the cultivation of peace and order through
the country, the interoit of llritaln becomes directly
involved In niaintainiiiK henceforth the peace of India.
The Improvement which a few years of peace eflfects in
these fertile countries is astonishing: the population
of a certain portion is supposed to have nturlv doubled
In the period of comparatlvo peace from 181 1 to 1830,
being in the former year only forty-flve, and in the
latter almost ninety millions. Till she came under
British rule, India never enjoyed twenty years of peace
and orderly government in all her former history.
Many faults and oppressions art) laid to the charco uf
the English in India, Arom which It is impossible to
defend them. The taxes (which fall chiefly upon the
land and the poor peasantry) are very oppressive, and
are rendered more so by tho unprincipled conduct of
the natives who are employed to collect them. Justice
also is administered in a foreign language ^Persic), and
the courts are so few, that districts which are larger
than Scotland have hardly one to each. Notwithstand-
ing all this, the preservation of public order and of
peace has conferred advantages on the country of the
most inestimable kind. Latterly, considerable im-
provements have been effected by tho cstabliohmont
of schools, and by Christian missionaries.

As India, by the taxes which it pays to the Company,
clears the cojt of its own protection, and all its other
public expenses, it may be considered as the only foreign
possession of Hritain whoso trade affords an unburdened
profit to the home country. The forces employed by the
Company, partly composed of BritUli regular troops, and
partly of native levies, amounted in 1U46 to 2.50,000
men. In 1833-4, its annual revenue was £13,6U0,1C5,
an enormous sura to be raised in a semi-barbarous
counttY, yet no more than sufficient to discharge the
annual expenses. The Company at that timo was in
debt to the amount of £35,463,483.

POPULATION — 80CIAL STATISTICtl.

The people of England, Scotland, and Ireland, re-
spectively, possess certain national peculiarities of
cnaracter; but these, from tho general intercourse
which now preyails, are gradually disappearing, and
a uniform British character is becoming daily more
apparent. In this general and happy assimilation,
the English qualities of mind and habits predominate.
The chief feature in the English character is an ardent
love of liberty, which renders the people extremely
tenacious of their civil rights, stem advocates of justice,
and patriotic in the highest degree. In their manners
they are grave rather than gay, blunt rather than cere-
monious. In their habits they are enterprising, induu-
trious, and provident; in their feelings humane. In
all mercantile transactions the greatest integrity exist)!,
and promises are faithfully performed. In the middle
and upper classes the highest civilisation prevails, and
all the social virtues and comforts of domestic life are
sedulously cultivated. There are some favourite field-
sports and boisterous amusements; but the enjoyments
of the English are chiefly within doors, in their own
well-regulated homes. A lore of home is a marked
peculiarity in the affections of the English. The emi-
nent importance attained by the British in the scale of
nations, appears to depend mainly upon two features
of the common character — the high moral and intel-
lectual character of the people at large, and their ex-
traordinary skill iu producing articles of necessity and

luxury, aa well as thsir deiterity in the eonim«re« by
which these are dllAisod over the world.

An account of the population of the empire kM been
taken at intervals of ten years from IROI ; and the fol-
lowing table will show the gradual increase which has
occurred since 1811 : —

Bn|l«n<l and Wales.
8vi>tl»nd,
irsland, .

1811.

10,183,. /8

I,8US,I1U8

4,MI0,UM

1811.
11,1178.873

»,u8a,i.so

8,80<,0IK1

1831.
i3,IM,M»
«,3B8,8U7
7.734,383

IMI.
1S,8M,74I

8,I78.IM

Totals,

lfl,4(»,M4 80,874,484 IO,MN,741 86,)«,47S

These estimates are exclusive of the army and navy,
as also of the Channel Islands and the Isle of Man,
which are noticed under another section. The increase
of the population, as compared with the reiums of
1831, is at tho rate of 14'A per cent, for England ; IS
|)er cent, for Wales ; for Scotland, 1 1*1 ; for the islands
in the llritiah seas, l!)-6: making the Increase for the
whole of (Jreat Britain 14 per cent., being less than that
of the ten years ending 1831, which was 15 per cent.

The following is the latest statement of the extent
and population of tho British Empire ; —

Colonial and Foreign
I'uMeuloDS.

England and Wales, •

HootUnd,

Ireland,

Man snd Channel lalanda,

Kuropaoo UvpoDdenciiw,

Ailatlodo. - . -

African do.

Nortli American, do.

South American du. -

Weallndloa, -

Auitralosla,

Protected and Tributary Btates—

Ionian iHlund*,

Kant Indian States, -

Hqiiaro
MIIm.

Population.

37.818

U,I)06,74l

.18.1(17

9,080,610

3t,tl2

8,173,184

194,040

M.1

140,889

7M.flH7

88,010,000

a4,B«7

1,443,379

7M. 1

l,88O,00«l

89,000

103,0W

78,384

799,008

80O,O(N)

370,000

I.I 41

993.340

aoo.ooo

.18,900.0011

Total,

3,148,747

1(KI,978,«4I

Occupalioni. — It appears that those engaged in the
close and vigilant pursuits of manufactures and mer-
chandise are, in England and Scotland, as two to one in
numbers, compared with those who apply to the more
leisurely business of agriculture. In 1841 the number
of Miose in active life or living independently were
7,n4(),.'ifi!) — leaving 10,097,865 to be understood as
women and children having no recognised occupations.
Of those employed — 8,110,376 were engaged in com-
merce, trade, and manufactures; 1,499,278 in agricul-
ture, grazing, gardening, atiii other kindred pursuits ;
761,868 in miscellaneous labour, as mines, quarries, por-
terage, &c. ; 218,610 comprised the navy, national and
mercantile, fishermen, watermen, &c.; 131,464 the army
at home and abroad ; 63,1 84 were engaged in the learned
professions — divinity, law, and physic; 142,836 were
following pursuits requiring education, including those
engaged iu imparting knowledge to others ; 16,959
were in the civil service of ^vemment ; 25,275 were
in municipal and parochial offices ; 1,165,233 were in
domestic service ; 199,069 were alms-people, paupers,
lunatics, and pensioners; 511,440 were returned as in-
dependent; 2424 were afloat and undescribed ; leaving
a residue of 10,096,398, in respect of whose occupations
no particular%were given. The number of personi
engaged in, ana dependent upon, agriculture in Ireland,
is comparatively much larger than in Great Britain.
It appears from the census of 1841, that there are
5,358,034 persons directly dependent upon the culture
of the soil out of a population of 8,175,124 ; and taking
into account its subsidiary employments, the depend-
ence on agriculture will even be proportionally greater.

In considering the number of persons supported by
any particular manufacture, it is to be remembered
that the numbers given are of actual workers, and not
of those who, as wives, children, &c. are supported by
the labour of otheiB. Th« total uumber of persons

191

CBAHBEBS'S HHOBMATION FOB TBI PEOPLE.

>' f

wkoM oeeupationi were MetrUined in OrMt BriUin
WM r,846m^l»»ing 10,»»7.8«i m the • wridu/' of
the popnUtion, which miut be tiJwn to condrt of per-
■one depettdent on the fonner. Therefoie, to the num-
ber riren under eaoh employment, we muit add another
number bearing to it thfl proportion of about 11 to
8, in order to aeoertain the entire number of indi-
Tiduala whom that btaoob of induitiy lupporti. It is
wvHkr of remade that, fkom other reports, the pro-
portlMk of those woriiers who are of tender age is de-
oeatiu, and the total number of children now en-
nwed fii the abore occupations is only 31,566, under
llSlth of the whole workers. The largest number
returned under anjr oae occupation is of domestic ser-
rants, being l,165Ji8S, of whom 908,835 are females.

The statement of the ag^gate population of the
British islands, afibrds no idea of the force which is
•otuallr emploTed in agriculture and manufactures.
The effective labourers (men) are estimated to amount
to no more than 7,500,000, whereas, reckoning the
powers exerted in productiTO industry by animals, mills,
steam-engines, and mechanism of Tarious kinds, the
force is equal to the strength of between 65,000,000
and 70,000,000 working-men.

DwMingi. — The number of houses in England in
1841 were-4nhabited, 2,753,295; uninhabited, 162,756;
building, 25,882. The number iu Wales, inhabited,
188,196; uninhabited, 10,133; building, 1769. In
Scotland, inhabited, 503,357 ; uninhabited, 24,307 ;
building, 2760. In the islands of the British seas,
19,159 inhabited; 865 uninhabited^ and 220 bui^iing.
Grand totals for the whole of Great Britain, 3,464,0OT
inhabited, 198,061 uninhabited, 30,631 building— alto-
gether, 3,692,679 houses. It appears from the census,
however, that in Great Britain on the night of the 6th
June 1841, that 22,303 persons slept in bams, tents,
pits, and in the open air.

Vital SttUitlie*, — England is now provided with a law
for enforcing the registration of births, marriages, and
deaths; but in other parts of the empire, Scotland in
tNirticular, the arrangements for these useful objects
are very imperfect, and demand speedy amendment.
At the celebration of marriage, parties are required to
sign their names; and it appears that, on an average,
33 in the 100 of males, and 49 in the 100 of females,
sign with a mark, beinc unable to write. The average
age of men in England at marriage u about 27 years,
and of women, 25 years and a few months. Of 100
marriages, 8 take place with both patsies under age;
and it is remarkable that the Mriculturml districts fur-
nish the greatest proportion of early marriages. The
average annual numtwr of marriages for England and
Wales to every 10,000 inhabitants is 78. The average
of births to every 10,000 for Encland and Wales is 319;
of deaths, 221. It may be worth noticing, that it is in
the maritime counties we find the least mortality.

Pauperum— Crime. — The population of the United
Kingdom thus consists of various classes of ^tersons,
amongst whom, with respect to wealth, education, and
general condition, even more than the usual differ-
ences are to be found — the greatest wealth and luxury
cont'asting with the most abject poverty and want,
and the must industrious prudence with the utmost
negligence and want of self-respect. Without entering
minutely into the political and social causes of this
distressing difference, it may be mentioned as a general
result, that the difficulty of purchasing food leads to
a corresponding depression of ctrcumAances in the
humbier orders of the community, and either causes
an extensive dependence on poor-rates for support, or
produces debased and dangerous habits of living. The
poor of England arc entitled by law to support iu
workhouses, according to the provisious of an act of
Parlhiment pasted in 1834. In 1847, the numbc; of
paapen(including children) relieved in England, was
l,7n,IM, or about 1 in 9 of the population. Of
these 39^087 r«eeived in-door relief; 1,456,313 re-
ceived ovt-door relief. The amount received was
£7,117483 : of which £5,298,787 was expended on the

poor— £899,095 on in-mainieno&oe, and £3,467,960 on
out-relief.

In Ireland, similar poor-laws were introduced in
1888, and an likely to prove of )(reat service to that
part of the empiN. 'The chief peculiarity of theselaws,*
says Maocttllc«h, * is that relief under them is adminis-
tered solelyin workhouses; and thus they diffitr irom the
Scotch poor-laws, under which workhouses have scarcely
been made use of at all, except in a few large towns;
fvnd from the English poor-laws, which were intended
bv the logislature to be a mixed system of relief to the
able-bodied in woikhousas, and of relief to the impo-
tent poor, partly iu workhouses and partly at their
own homes. Th^ difito agiUn fi6m the English and
Scotch poor>l»wt in thia, that while in England all
destitute persons have a legtl right to relief, and in
Scotland all deatitut* inip«l«t patnna have a similar
right, in Ireland, on tha oontniy, no individual was
intended to have a ImoI riski to relief; but at the
same time, wheth« nph b oaied or impotent, he may
equally reorive relief is wer k h o usse , . provided he is
destitute.' Under this law, the expenditure for the
poor in Ireland for the year ending 1st January 1846
was £816,026, and the nouUv of paupers 49,293; but
in Novembw 1846, in consequence of the potato failure,
the number was 80,600.

In Scotland, as above elated, only the impotent
or very aged poor can lognUy claim relief from the
pariah ftinds, which, hj a recent act, are managed by
parochial boards, subject to the direction aurl con-
trol of a Centiml Board, which is established in Edin-
burgh. In 1846-47, the number of paupers on the
roll or rogistered was 85,971 ; casual poor, 60,399—
making the number of persons receiving relief in Soot-
land daring the year, 146,370, w about 1 in l8 of
the population. The amount received wM £435,367 :
of whidi £336,515 was expended on roj^stered poor;
£88,840 on casual poor; £12,879 on medical relief;
£43,158 on management; and £5022 on litigation.

The preeent condition of society throi^out the
United Kingdom exhibits the ^eetade of great and
valaobb elnrts at improvement among the more en-
lightened fllasset. Within the laet twenty years, the
utility of the press has been immensely increased, and
works of iaatruction and mtertunment have been cir-
onlated in departments of society where formerly no-
thinc of the kind waa heard of. The establishment of
meehanics' institutbns, lycenins, exhibitions of works
of art, reading societies, and other means of intellectual
improvement, forms another distinguishing feature of
mMem society. At the same time great masses of the
people, for lack of education, and from other unfortu-
nate circumstances, are evidently gravitating into a
lower condition. From these reasons, and others con-
nected with the development of our manufacturing and
commercial system, convictions for crime have been
latterly increasing. In 1847 there were in England
28,833 offenders, of whom 21,682 were convicted; iu
Ireland 31,209,* of whom 153357 were conricted; in
Scothuid 4635, of whom 3569 were convicts^. Of tho
offences, 7611 were comnkitted agjabst the person; 4747
against property committed with violence; 43,867
SMunst property without violence; 589 malicious
<meuces against property; 885 forgery and oflimoes
against the currency; and 7528 other <tfhnees not in-
cluded in the above. In reference to these details, it
must be remarked that the vigikaoe of onr poUce
brings to light almost every offence, however trivial; and
it is to thu certainty of detection, tonther with the
general spread of education, the estaplishmewt of in-
dustrial schools, and the introduction of an improved
treatment of ofiisnders, that we look forward to some
diminution of this painful catalogue of crime.

* The Tsmarkable amonnt of crime in Iretsad durinf the
yew 1847, 1* attributed. In the exidanstioni which aooompany
the oOelal returna, to < the famine which prsvailsd for that
eatiM psried, and Uis social dintganinttoa conssqaeiit on a
■tale of naivsrsat dlitress.' In 1846, the number of oftndsrs
WM «Bly 18,488{ and in 184S, \9,mt.

EUROPE.

RiFUUUNO the reader for all that appertains to the
general constitution oi the globe to our article on PhY'
SICAL Gkooraphv (No. 4), we purpose, in this and
several following sheets, to direct attention to the ^-
cial features of the respective continents — describing
their territories and states, their natural products, their
commercial industry, population, laws, religion, and

other topics usually comprehended under the title of
Political OioaaAPHY. In doing so we shall endeavour
to be as systematic as possible, believing that we shall
thereby communicate not only a larger amount of in-
formation, but render that information more pntdse
and accurate, and more readily available for the pur-
poses of reference and comparison.

Constituting but a fragment of the Old or Eastern
World, and being surrounded on more than three sides
by water, Europe, strictly speaking, is not entitled
to the appellation of an independent continent. But
though the smallest of the quarters into which geogra-
phers have divided the globe, it is by far the most im-
portant — its inhabitants giving now, as they have long
done, the tone and character to human progress. Its
limits are usually comprehended within the 36th and
71st degrees of north latitude, and the 10th de^e of
west and 64th of east longitude ; thus placing it
almost wholly within tLe northern temperate zone*.
Including the islands, which contain about 317,000
square miles, the land superficies of Europe is esti-
mated at 3,724,000 S4uare miles; its population at
nearly 240,000,000. At present (1849) it is divided into
fifty-eight states; a few of which, however, are not
altogether independent. The leading states, usually
styled 'the Five Great Powers of Europe,' are Great
Britain, France, Russia, Austria, and Prussia. Those
of a secondary rank are Spain, Sweden,>Denmark, Hol-
land, Belgium, Portugal, Naples, Bavaria, Sardinia,
Saxony, Hanover, the Swiss Confederation, and Turkey.
Those of e third rank a<% the small constituent prin-
cipalities of Germany and Italy. It is to th0 conti-
No. 63.

nental or foreign states that we now confine our de-
scription, reserving the component parts of the United
Kingdom — ^gland, Scotland, and Ireland — for treat-
ment in the three subsequent numbers.

FRANCE.

France, one of the largest and most important of the
European states, is situated between lat. 42° 20' and
51° 3' north, and long. 3° 51' east, and 9° 27' west. It
is bounded on the north by the English Channel, Straits
of Dover, Belgium, the Prussian province of Lower
Rhine, and Ilhenish Bavaria; on the east by Baden,
from which it is separated by the Rhine, hj Switzer-
land, and Italy; on the south by the Mediterranean
and by Spain, from which it is separated by the Pyre-
nees; and on the west by the Atl^tic. The greatest
length of the country is 664 miles, and its breach 620;
its area, including Corsic^v and the islands* which stud
the sea-coast, is estimated at 208,736 square miles.

* The Channel Uland$, though geographically connected with
Franco, hnve been an appendage to the English crown since thn
eleventh contuiy. The group coniisU of Jersey, lii miles by 6 or
r> t GuernBcy, 9 miles by 6 ; Aldemey, Bark, and several other
islats and rocks of small extent The larger of those islands aro
ibrtili', and well divorsifled by orchards, clumps, and hedgerows ;

193

OHAMBEBff S mVOBMATlGS FOB THE PEOPLE.

SmerfiMOy, Fnmce may be d^icribed m » flat
ooun^, the greater portion coiwirting of T»Uey-like
tract! or open plateaux, with low hillv rao^ or •well-
ine eminencei between. Iti iceneiy, therefore, MhiWti
little of the romantic and pictureique, and with the
exception of the Limourin, and wme of the lai;ger rirer
coarMi, i», on the whole, rather flat and uninteresting.
The principal hiUe whioh diretaify the surflwe are—
1. Tm Voiges, on the north-east, preienting rounded
oatUnei, with gentle dopei, and affording much open

eitura; the Ugheit point 4693 feet. 2. The Jura
onntalni, l/ing aonth of the Voigei, and forming part
of the boundary between France and Switurland, the
extreme height of which ia about 6000 feet. 3. The
Cerennes, and other portions of the long range which
forms, as it were, the western brim of the valley of the
Saone and Rhone: the highest points do not exceed
5000 feet. This range may be said to form the ^at
water-shed of France, from which all the large rivers
flow in a north-west direction to the Atlantic. 4. The
clustering hiUs of Auvorgne, or central France, remark-
able toT their crateriform tops and recent volcanic
origin, the highest of which is Puy de Sancy, 6200 feet.
The larsest and best-defined river-basins or valleys are
those of the Saone and Rhone on the east, which may
be rumrded as one; those of the Adour, Garonne, Lot,
and Dordogne on the south and south-west; those of
the Loire and Seine in the centre; and those of the
Somme, Mouse, Moselle, and Rhine on the north. The
■oil of most of these valleys is a fine deep alluvium,
with a greater or less admixture of sand: some, like
tiie Limousin in Auvei;gne, are of unsurpassed fertility;
and all, under proper cultivation, are capable of yield-
ing the ordinary crops in more than average abundance.
There are large tracts of heath in Bretagne, Anjou,
and Maine ; and the Atlantic sea-board presents in
many places, as in Landes, wide expanses covered with
■and-dunes and intervening marshy lagoons, on which
nothing useful can flourish except the sea-pine, planted
there to protect the surface from further drift.

The great rivers exclusively French have all a wes-
terly flow towards the Atlantic; those flowing north-
ward — ^the Scheldt, Sambre, Meuse, Moselle, and much-
ooveted Rhine — have onl^ the upper and least valuable
portions of their courses m France; and the Rhone, the
sole laige river running southward, has also a great

Sortion of its course in another country. Of those
owing westward, the following are the most impor-
tant: — 1. The Seine, navigable to Rouen for vessels of
200 tons, and for barges more than 300 miles inland.
2. The Loire, the largest river belonging exclusivelv to
France, which, although it receives numerous tribu-
taries, and possesses a considerable volume of water,.is
of remarkably little use in commerce, and can only
carry small burgee and steam-vessels; a defect resulting
ttom. numerous sandbanks. 3. The Oaronne, which is
navigable for barges about 280 miles of its course, and
receives a vast number of tributaries. The Rhone dur-
ing its course in France is a noble, but rapid river, and
though much obstructed by shoals and shifting sand-
banlu, is navigable for flat-bottomed steamers to Cha-
lons-sur-Saone, a distance of 276 miles from Marseilles.
* QtohgieaUfi,' says one rnthority, * the whole of
France may be considered ab one extensive basin, the
oircumferenoe and centre of which consist of primitive
formations, the intermediate space being filled with
those of a secondary and tertiary kind.' Taking this
statement as a mere proximate outline, we find pri-
mary rocks in the Ardennes on the north ; in the
Vosges, Jura, and Alpine ridges on the east; in the
Pyrenees on the south; in Bretacne, Mune, and Nor-
mandy on the west; and, oentrslly, in the hilly ranges
of Auvergne. Lying upon these in many places, with-
out the intervention of the transition and older secon-
dary strata, occur the coal-measures, the oolite lime-
thcy s^Kqr enmptloii from almost ersty speeiss of taxation,
have a eansUarabte oommeree, and are (kTOorUe resorts t* per-
■aMwHhUmMsdiBcainas. Areaofths whole, US square mllss|
populaMsn la IMI, 7«,0M.
IM

stones and shales, and the chalk; and not unfrequently
even the coal-measures are absent, and the oolitic and
chalk repose immediately on the upper primaries.
The tertiari^ generally occupy tho great river drainage
of the centre, showing that at no very distant epoch a
laige portion of France was a shallow sea or estuary of
deposit. The chief minerals are — coal from upwards of
forty indiflfbrent fields, not exceeding 2,800,000 tons
annually ; iron largely from ten or twdve districts ;
rock-salt from Lorraine; gypsum, or plaster of Paris,
in unlimited quantities; asphalte from Seyssel and the
Jura; abundance of limestone, slate, and granite; ex-
cellent marble and building stones; mill or burr-stone;
lithooraphio slate; gn^hite, jet, atad slum; and a lane
supply of first porcelam, aad other elavs. With the
exception of iron, the other metals are of no great com-
mercial importance; the total value of lead, silver,
antimony, copper, manganese, arsenic, &c. annually
produced rarely exceeding £60,000.

The climate of a country whose extreme limits lie
between the 42d and 51st parallels of north latitude —
whose western region is subject to the influences of the
vast Atlantic, while its central and eastern, exempt
from these influences, are subject to these of a higher
elevation — ^must necessarily exhibit considerable diver-
sity. Geographers have accordingly divided the whole
into four regions — namely, 1. The most southerly, in
which the vine, olive, mulbeny, and orange flourish,
bounded north and west by a line drawn from Bag-
n6res-de-Luchon in the Pyrenees to Die in Drome;
2. I^hat through which the cultivation of the vine and
maixe extends, stretching as far north as a line passing
from the mouth of the Garonne to the northern ex-
tremity of Alsaoe; 3. That region which terminates
with the culture of the vine, near a line drawn from
the mouth of the Loire to Mesieres in Ardennes; and
4. The remaining portion of the country, having a
climate somewhat allied to that of England, dnd yield-
ing rich verdant pastures and forest ^wth. Along
the entire western coast the climate is distinguished by
a greater degree of humidity than in anpr other district;
the south and east have about a third fewer rainy
days than the north and west; winter is often pretty
severely felt in the north-east; and though snow seldom
lies in the central and southern regions, yet these are
liable to destructive hail and thunder-storms, as well
as to sudden inundations.

The native vegetation of the country, though number-
ing several thousand species, oontuns few, with the
exception of the apple, pear, plum, and fig, that are
of much economical importance. The existing Flora,
however, is one of great variety and value, embracing
exotics from almost every region of the globe, whi(£
have become readily naturalised in its fine soil and
under its genial climate. Of grains and vegetables
largely cultivated, we may enumerate wheat, rye, oats,
maize, millet, buckwheat, kidney-beans, pease, carrot,
beet, melons, potatoes, flax, hemp, and tobacco; and
madder, safi^n, and hops on a smaller scale. Of
fruit-trees, the vine, olive, oruge, pistachio, fig, apple,
pear, plum, peach, apricot, and cherry, with which we
may also class the mulbeny and caper. Of forest-
trees, the oak, beech, maple, ash, chestnut, walnut,
birch, poplar, larch, pine, fir, box, cornel, acacia, and
cork-tree. As a certain consequence of dimate and
soil, these plants are not found indififerently all over
the surface, but are restricted to peculiar localities,
where they sieet with conditions necessary to their
growth and perfection, or where, through accidental
causes, they have become objects of eqwcial cultuie.
The forest growth of France is said to cover fiilly one-
eighth of the entire surface, or about 17,000,000 British
acres — an amount which is rendered necessary by the
use of wood as the chief domestic fVieL

Of the mammaHa found wild in France, the principal
are — the black and brown bean of the Pyrenees, the
wolf, the fox, the lynx of the Alps, the duunoia and
wild goct of the eastern and southern hills, the wild
bear, badger, otter, marmot, ermine, and hamster.

EUBOPE.

unfireiiuently
lie oolitic »na
er primaries,
irer dninage
itant epoch a
or eatuaiy of
n upwards of
,800,000 tons
We difiriets;
•ter of Paris,
lyseel and the
i granite; ex-
or burr-stone;
i; andalaifa
s. With the
no great oom-
' lead, silrer,
&c. annually

ime limits He
rth latitude —
luences of the
stem, exempt
le of a higher
iderable direr-
ded the whole

southerly, in
range flourish,
bwn from Bag-
tie in Drome;
f the yine and
I a line passing
> northern ex-
ich terminates
le drawn from
Ardennes; and
itry, haying a •
uid, dnd yield-
Towth. Along
[.tinguishedby

other district;
fewer rainy
often pretty
;h snow seldom

yet thest are

itonns, as well

,ongh number- :
few, with the
. fig, that are
txisting Flora,
le, embradng
globe, whicu
fine soil and
nd vegetables
leat, lye, oats,
pease, carrot,
tobacco; and
scale. Of
do, fig, apple,
rith whiw we
Of forest-
nut, walnut,
1, acacia, and
climate and
^ntlyall oyer
localities,
, to their
|h accidental
, culture.
(er AiUy one-
0,000 British
' by the

Jthe principal
lyrenees, the
' am<Hi And
lUs, the wild
lid hamster.

The birdt beloni^g io, or at least frequenting France,
are exceedingly numerous— the becafioo or fig-pecker,
tbe ortolan, quail, bustard, flamingo, hoopoe, turtle-
doye, nightingale ks. being the (£ief of Uiocc least
known to En^iif- ders. Of reptilu, the yiper, asp,
snake, and Lv ^e edible frog, and other yarieties
of the frog anii „ '.; the fresh-water tortoise of the
southern liVers, i>>^.l the green turtle taken occasionally
on the southern seo-v-oasts. The JUm and noUuica,
with the bxception of the mullet, sardine, carp, horse-
foot oyster, and edible snail, are much the same as
those belonging to England. The inucU of any econo-
miotl importance are the bee, silk-worm, gall-nut fly,
and the blistering fly. Respecting the breeds of the
doputtioated animalt, if we except t]^e merino sheep
and poultry, it may be safely asserted that they are
all iuerior to those of Great Britain.

The inhabitantt are generally arranged by ethnolo-
gists under five distinct heads or races: — I. The Freneh
proper, conriituting nine-tenths of the population, and
consisting subordinately of the Grseco-Latms or French,
north of the Loire, and the Romance, south of that
boundary; with whom may be classed the Italians of
Corsica; 2. The Otrmanic races of Alsace and Lorraine,
and the Flemings of the north; 3. The CelHe or Cymric
race (Bretons) of Bretagne; 4. The Btuques of the Low
Pyrenees; and 6. The Jno*, who are found in all the
principal towns. Hhere are thus six distinct languages
spoken within the kingdom — French and Italian (both
of Latin origin), German, Celtic, Basque, and Hebrwc;
independent of sey«ral widely-diflfering proyinoial dia-
lects of the French and German.

Though the Rotium Catholio faith may be regarded
as the national religion (five-sixths of the people being
attached to it), yet no form of i-^orship is expressly
established or associated with the state. Reckoning
the Catholio population at 28,210,000, and the Protes-
taaU at 6,010,000, the remainder may be regarded as
consisting of Jews, Rationalists, Anabaptists, and other
minor sects. Both the Catholio and Protestant clergy
are paid out of the public reyenue — the sum annually
allotted for religious purposes amounting to nearly
£1,172,000 sterling. With regard to education, the
country may be said to be at present under the opera-
tion of aa efficient and liberal system. By the law of
1833, it is ordained that every commune by itself, or
by uniting with others, shall have one elementary
sohool, independent of infant schools; that every com-
mune with a population of 6000 shall have, in addi-
tion, a superior school; and that every departm'eiit,
either by itself, or by uniting with others, shall have a
normal school. Aliove these are 350 communal or
royal colleges supported by the state; and higher still
are the 26 head or chief academies. These, collectively,
form what is called the * University of France,' which is
under the superintendence of the Minister of Public
Instruction, assisted by a council and a number of
inspectors — the whole machinery requiring an annual
outlay of about £520,000 sterling.

With respect to nafiono/ industry, France may be
regarded more as an agricultural than a manufacturing
country. By the law of inheritance, the property of a
father is divided equally among his children; and
consequently there is a progressive tendency to more
minute divisions and subdivisions of the land. The en-
tire number of landed proprietors was lately 10,895,000,
of whom about one-h>\lf were assessed at less than five
francs annually. A vast number of the properties are
under five acres in extent, and the result is a gene-
rally mean condition of rural afliairs, and the total
absence of all high -class systematic agriculture. Ac-
cording to DomlMksle, the total produce of agricultu-
ral industry in France amounts to £199,200,000, of
which £108,000,000 are derived flroiu the bread-corns;
£32,000,000 from the vine; £8,400,000 from live-stock
and wool. The fiaheriei on the coast are not of much
importance, the principal being those of pilchards, her-
rings, mackerel, oysters, and anchovies, employing in
all about '5800 boats both in the Mediterranean and

Atlantic. The mining departments have been already
alluded to; but though fostered in every manner, the
coal raised does not exceed a tenth, and iron is some-
what less than a fifth, of that lumually produced
in Britain* In maiM(/irc(iir«s Fmace ranks next to
Great Britain, the estimated annuid value of the goods
produced amounting to £92,000,000: of which dlk,
£12,000,000; wooUen, £10,600,000; cotton, £»,000,000;
linen, £10,400,000; hardwares, £8,700,000; leather,
£8,000,000; glass, £1,200,000; paper, £1,000,000; and
porcelain, £300,000. The minor manufactures of the
country would be tedious to mention; most of them
exhibit a greater degree of skill and ingenuity than is
to be met with in any other country. Ship-bnUdif^
is carried on to some extent at Rochefort, Brest, Cher-
bourg, &c.; and in engine-building, and other heavy
machinery, the French are now beginning to attain
considerable eminence. The commerce of France has
more than doubled since the peace in 1815, her imports
now amounting to about thirty-eight, and her exports
to thirty-nine millions sterling. Her mercantile navy
is estimated at 15,600 vessels, carrying an aggr^ate
burden of 700,000 tons. The internal comm^cation
of the country is carried on by well-kept roads; these
being classed into royal, departmental, and communal,
according as they are upheld by the sovemment, or by
the deputments and communes to which they bislong;
by river navigation, of which there is upwards of 5616
miles; by 2250 mUes of canal; and by railways, of
which about 2000 miles are constructed.

The government of France, until the Revolution of
1848, was a hereditary, con8til:ational, or limited mo-
narchy, with the succession restricted to males. The •
legislative power was vested collectively in the king
and the two great national assemblies — the Chamber
of Peers and the Chamber of Deputies. The executive
was vested in a ministry, appointed by the king, at
head of the state, and consistiBd of— 1. Minister of the
Interior; 2. Justice and Public Worship; 3. Public In-
struction; 4. Public Works; 5. Trade and Agriculture;
6. Finances; 7. Foreign Afibirs; 8. War; 9, Marine and
Colonies. At present (1849) the govemnient of France
is Republican; the legislative power being vested in a
Chamber of Deputies dected by universal sufiWe; and
the executive conducted by a President and Ministiy,
much in the same manner as under the monarchy.—
Revenue said to be £47,000,000; present expenditure,
£72,000,000; debt, £21 1,000,000; army, 355,000. Capi-
tal, Paris, with a population of 1,053,897.

For adminittrative purposes, France is partitioned
into Q6 departments, which are subdivided into 868
arrondissements, 2834 cantons, and 37,187 communes.
At the head of each department is a prefect, named by
the government; he is assisted by a council, which sits
for a week annually to distribute the imposition of
taxes, and decide on the wmts of the department.
In each arrondissement there is a sous-prefect, likewise
named by the executive, and subordinate to the pre-
fect: the sous-prefect is alsc assisted by a council. In
each canton there is a judge de paix, with judicial
functions in matters of inferior importance. In each
commune there is a maiie, assisted by adjoints.

SPAIN AND FORTCOAI,.

These two perfectly distinct and independent king,
doms belong to a region so unique in character and
situation, that we shall treat them, in regard to their
physical geography, as one. This region, commonly
Known in Britain as ' The Peninsula,' lies at the south-
western extremity of the European continent, with
which it is connected by an isthmus 230 miles broad,
and is situated between lat. 36° and 40° north, and
between long. 4° east and 10° west. It is bounded on
the north by the Bay of Biscay, and by France, from
which it is separated by the Pyrepees; on the east by
the Mediterranean; on the south by the Mediterranean,
the Straits of Oihraltai^* and the Atlantic; and on tho

* Tbo promontoryrfliistreas, town, and bay of aibraltar, situ-

195

OHAMBEBffS INFOBMATIOir FOB THE PEOPLE.

irett wholly by the Atknilc The only idand* geo-
gnphically connected are the B»le«i©— m important
croup, eznibitinc in miniature all the oharaoterutic
featureeof the mainland. The area thus included is
computed at 216,780 equare milei, of which 182,270
belong to Spain, and 34,510 to Portugal. , ,, „

In tuper^oial ekaraeter the Penmsula is decidedly
mountainous. ' The interior may be considered as one
Tast table-land, from 1800 to 2600 feet above the level
of the sea, traversed by numerous mountains, and
intersected by rivers. Around this central nucleus
extends a narrow belt of maritime low land, sloping
gradually towards the sea, and broken into an alterna-
tion of hills and valleys, which produce a most agree-
able variety of aspect, and present a pleasing contrast
to the bleaK and barren sameness by which the central
rsgion is characterised.' The geology of the country is
but indifferently known. The principal economic mi-
nerals are — ^granite, marble, serpentine, common lime-
■tone, coal, rock-salt, gypsuiu, alabaster, meerschaum,
and sever^ of the precious stones ; the metals — iron,
lead, silver, mercury, tin, copper, antimony, and cobalt.

The princ^aal rivert of the Peninsula are^the Ebro
and Xucar, mlling into the Mediterranean, both un-
narigable; the Ouadilquiver, Guadiana, Tagus, Douro,
and Minho, discharging themselves into the Atlantic,
and all formine channels of communication with the
interior. In thu respect the Ouadilquiver is the most
important, being navigabb for vessels of 100 tons to
Seville, and for flat-bottomed boats to Cordova.

The climate, as might be expected from the position
and physical conformation of the region, is extremely
' diversified. All along the Mediterranean sea-board
the temperature is mild and equable, seldom sinking
below 32°, and generally ranging between 55° and 60°
Fahrenheit. Here snow is almost unknown, and ver-
dure is rarely checked, unless during the occasional
droughts of summer. On the central plateau matters
are quite reversed; the summer's heat is excessive, and
the winter's cold, rendered keener by stormy blasts
from the mountains, is equally so. In this region the
winter is long, and snow covers the sierras; while the
summer is short, and so hot, that verdure is often
destroyed. On the northern and western sea-board
the summer becomes cooler; and the winds, charsed
with moisture from the Atlantic, bring rains and other
atmospheric diversities.

The vegetation of a country so diversified in surface
and climate must necessarily present great variety, and
thus we find within its limits the banana and palm of
the tropics, and the pine of the polar regions. Though
a number of the more useful plants in the peninsula
be indigenous, yet a great many are naturalised exotics,
imported during the early and better days of its com-
jnerce and naval adventure. The chief of these, with-
out reference to locality or culture, are — wheat, oats,
barley, maize, rice, hemp, flax; the vine, oli/e, sugar-
cane, cotton, lemon, citron, fig, pomegranate, date,
almond, pistachio, banana, and plantain ; the apple,
pear, peach, cherry, walnut, chestnut, and hazel; and
to these we may add the dwarf-palm, mulberry, carob,
caper, red pepper, saffron, and aloe. With respect to
forest-trees there is much less variety; the peninsula
being one of the worst wooded regions in Europe. The
principal trees are— the evergreen, cork, cochineal, and
other varieties of oak ; the beech, poplar, sumach,
tamaruk, chestnut ; and in the sierras and higher
grounds, the fir and pine. The animal kingdom pre-

ated on the Spani«h eido of tlio Btrait, belong to Britain. TIw
promontory consiata of a vast rock, riaing from 1200 to 1400 foot
abOTO tho Bca ; is about 8 miles in longth, and ft'ora i to ) of a
mile In widtli ; and ia Joined to the mainland by a low aondy
isthmus about U milca in length. On tho north aide, fronting
tho iathmus, tho roclc ia almost perpendicular ; the east and
Huuth aides are aleo atcop and rugged ; but on tho west aide it
Hlopoa downward to a fine bay V miles long by t\ broad. On this
alopo Ilea the town, containing a mixed populatinn of 16,000 ;
and above riao tlie principal ramparta of the rocky forlrviia,
whkh ia Konei'olly garrisoned by upwards U SOOO troops,
IflC

sent! only one or two featorea wwlhy of notlee. Th^
principal wild animals are— the bear, wolf, ftx, herd!
of wild-boar, lynx, wild-cat, and mcmkeT; the ntlturs,
quail, bustard, flamingo, and some Afnoaa formt, at«
peculiar to the birds; reptiles of the seipeht funily are
more numerous than in any other part of Europe; and
of insects economically important, may be mentioned
the bee, silk-worm, gall-nut fly, and cantharide*. The
distinguishing features in the domesticated animali
are — ^tue horse, of Arab extraction; mules, the finest
in the world; and the merino-sheep.

The inhabiUmU of the peninsula — Spaniards and
Portuguese being originally one — are usually arranged
into »>ur races; — 1. The Spaniard*, an admixture of
Teutonic and R^man blood, who constitute the great
bulk of the people, and whose language is a compound
of Visigothic and Latin; 2. The Batguet, of Navarre
and the Basque provinces; 3. The Moreeeoei, or Moors,
who are found chiefly in the south; and 4. The
Oitanos, or Gipsies, spread indiscriminately over the
countiy, but preserving intact the individuality and
peculiarities oi their race.

The rtltgion of both countries is Roman Catholic;
and until some recent reformations, which hare yet
taken little efiect, was of the most degraded and de-
grading character. ' The peninsula,' says a recent
writer, ' swarms with an idle, ignorant, and inter-
meddling priesthood; and though their power be now
greatly uom br the abolition of their regular estab-
lishments, yet their influence both over the government
and the people is immense; and, to their shame be it
added, that that influence is chiefly exercised in retard-
ing the social progress of the people.' In Spain, the
education of the people is entirely under the power of
the clergy. There are, properly speakine, no olemen.
tary establishments; for although several schools, aca-
demies, and colleges have been endowed, the unsettled
state of the country has prevented these from taking
the effect. Portugal, on the other hand, can boast of
a number of seminaries, some of which are nominally
of a higher class ; but how they answer the end in-
tended, may be gathered from the fact, that the pupils
are only about 1 in 90 of the entire population.

The indiutrial pursuits of the two kingdoms com-
posing the peninsula are much of the same kind and
character. Both are more agricultural than manufac-
turing or commercial countries; comprehending under
the former term all that appertains to grain, fruits,
herds, and other produce depending upon the soil.
Anything like a systematic agriculture, however, is
altogether out of the question; nor need much improve-
ment be looked for so long as both states remain in
their present distracted condition, and so long as the
present mode of tenure exists. In mining, matters
are not quite so bad; and of late, consideraMe acti-
vity has been exhibited, principally, however, through
the agency of foreign companies, in the quicksilver, lead,
and iron departments. In the arts and man'ufactures,
neither country exhibits much skill or activity; silks
of average quality, coarse woollens, cottons and linens,
paper, leather, plate and jewellery, soap and barilla,
comprising all that are of any importance. As to their
commerce, whatever it may have been in the four-
teenth and fifteenth centuries, it is now of little import-
ance, a great portion of the foreign trade of the penin-
sula being conducted by the merchants and ships of
other nations. The chief exports of Spain are — wine,
quicksilver, lead, wool, raisins, figs, oi-anges, lemons,
and other fruits; olive-oil, barilla, cork-bark, honey,
and occasionally some wheat — valued annually at
£4,600,000: those of Portugal are wine, oranges, le-
mons, figs, and other fruits; cork-bark, olive-oil, su-
mach, wool, goats' skins, and small quantities of tallow,
brandy, and other articles, valued at £2,000,000. The
imports amount nearly to the same sum.

The government of Portuaal is a limited hereditary
monarchy, with tho succession unrestricted to sex. By
thocharterof 1826, the Ivglslative power is vested in
the lOTerei^ and the cortes, who orp 4ivided into two

fitJltO^Bi

«li-<Tnl)«n— ike CliMnbetr of Peen, named by the ioTe>
lei^u, who m unlimited in number, and whose dignity
if heredituy or for life; and the Chamber of Deputiee,
elected for periode of four yean by provincial efeoton,
who are themeelTci named by the primary aiiemblief
of parishes. More than this cannot be said of the
government of a country which is incessantly tnm
asunder by contending factions, and where a new
■ystem of administration is set up to-day only to be
overturned to-morrow. Total population, 3,649,994 ;
annual revenue, £2,550,000; debt, £19,838,000; army,
J 8,000. The capital city is Lisbon on the Tagus, with
a population of 260,000.

The govenmmt of Spain is also a limited hereditary
monardhy, with the succession unrestricted to sex. The
legisltttive power is vested in the sovereign and cortes, or
oiUional assembly, which is divided into two chambers
— the Senate, composed of the prelates, hereditary
grandees, and certain others, nominated by the sove-
reign for life; and the Congreu of Deputies, composed
of citiMns elected for three yean by the juntas of pro-
vinces, the memben of which are elected by the muni-
cipal bodies, or ayuntamientos. Such, we believe, is
the present constitution; but no less than four consti-
tutions have been in operation during the present cen-
tury, and matters yet remain in a very unsettled con-
dition. The total population of the country is esti-
mated at 12,387,000; annual revenue, £11,700,000;
debt, £286,300,000, of which only £89,600,000 is ac-
knowledged; army, 69,000. The capital city is Madrid,
With a population of 210,000.

SWITZERLAND.

Situated between lat. 45° 50' and 47° 45' north, and
long. 5° 55' and 10° 30' east, Switzerland occupies the
vei7 centre of the Alpine development, and is conse-
quently the most elevated and irregular of European
countries. It is bounded on the north by Germany; on
the east hy Austria; on the south by Italy; and on the
west by nance. Its superficies is estimated at 14,950
square miles, of which a large proportion is covered
With lakes and glaciers.

The supetfioial character of the country is sufficiently
indicated by the mention of its position — a region com-
posed of mountain-ridges, radiatine in every direction,
with narrow and tortuous river-valleys between. The
higher mountain-ridges range from 6000 to 15,700 feet
above the sea; their summits from 9600 feet and up-
wuds, buried in perpetual snow and glaciers, and their
sides broken into every imaginable divenity of crag,
cliff, ravine, and waterfall, dotted at intervals with
clumps of pine and fir. The valleys, on the other
hand, thou^n still from 1200 to 1500 feet above sea-
level, are dutinguished alike for fertility and beauty,
and form a singular contrast with the rugged heights
which frown above them. The tract lying between
the Alps and Jura mountains, and in which all the
great lakes from Constance to Geneva are situated,
may b. regarded as the Lowlands of Switzerland ; and
yet the ceneral altitude of this plateau is from 1600
to 2000 net, at the same time that it is intersected by
numerous ridges and river courses.

The rookfomuUUma in the higher and central districts
are strictly primary, flanked by transition and the
older secondaries. The equivalents of our own lias
and chalks are also found at great heights overlying
the older rocks, thus marking the date of the Alpine
and Jura elevation; and in the low tract above de-
scribed occur alternations of soft greenish sandstones
and limestones, the supposed equivalents of the Paris
tertiaries. The mineral products are chiefly confined
to roofing -slate, marble, gypsum, granite and other
builcUng stones, and a few iron and asphalte mines in
the Jura. Traoap of coal have been met with; salt
springs occur in Basle; and springs of some medicinal
celebrity in Berne, Vaud, Glarus, and St Gall.

Several of the great European rivers — the Rhine,
Rhone, Inn, Tesino, and Doiiba— have their sources
amid the jjlaciois of Switzerland, which thus enjoys

them merely a* rapid mountab-streams, anandlabk
as channels of oommunication. The Aar is the only
river of any navigable importance, having its course
exclusively within the territory cf the Confederation.
The lake$ of Switzerland, either as regard|^ their ex-
tent or the beauty and magnificence oi their sceneiy,
are unexcelled by any in the world. The principal
are — Constance or the Boden See, Geneva or Leman,
Neufchatel, Zurich, Lucerne, the Unter See, Wallen-
stadt, Zug, Thun, and Brienz, on this side the Alps;
and portions of Maggion, Lugano, &c. which lie on the
other side of the Mfa, chiefly within the confines of
Italy. The four first are the most important as well
as the largest, and are traversed by small steamen in
addition to the usual suling boats of the country.

With respect to elimiUe, Switzerland is said to be
much colder than its latitude or its position in Europe
would appear to warrant. The mean annual tem-
perature at Berne is 45° Fahrenheit; at Basle 46"; and
at Geneva (1200 feet above the sea) 46^°. Of course
altitude is the prime cause of this deficiency, thoudi it
is no doubt considerably increased by the cooling effects
of the glacien and snow-dad summits, the openings
and exposures of the valleys, and other analogous
causes. The plants of nearly all the different zones of
Europe are thus found in Switzerland, from the vine,
olive, and mulberry of the sunny valley, up to the her-
baceous vrillow, the lichens, and mosses that struggle
up to the confines of eternal snows.

The inhabitants are usually ranked under two races —
the Germanic and the Greece-Latin: the former com-
prising the Deutsch or German Swiss of the northern
and central cantons; the latter the French and Italian
Swiss of the western and southern parts. The great
majority of the population — say 1,600,000 — are Ger-
man, speaking the Deutsch language, which is indeed
the language of the Confederation; the French are
estimated at 450,000; the Italian at 121,000; the
Romance, speaking a dialect of the Latin, 51,000; and
the Jews 2000. According to the most recent autho-
rities, the entire population is 2,372,920.

With respect to the religion of the Confederation, ac-
counts are somewhat contradictory, but it is generally
admitted that the Protestants number about 1,286,000;
the Roman Catholics, 847,000; Jews, 2000; other per-
suasions making up the remainder. In some of the
cantons the Roman Catholic faith is the only religion
tolerated; in some Protestantism (chiefly Colvinistic)
is equally exclusive; while in others there is no restric-
tion whatever. Educational affairs seem to be better
ordered; and most writers agree in regarding Switzer-
land, on the whole, as one of the best-educated coun-
tries in Europe — the proportion of pupils at school
being as 1 to 9 of the population. The instruction of
children from five to eight or ten years of age is com-
pulsory; and for this purpose every district has an ele-
mentary school, independent of a secondary one for
classical and scientific tuition. Besides these, there
are normal schools for the training of teachen in seve-
ral cantons; academies in the chief towns; the four
universities of Basle, Zurich, Berne, and Geneva; cer-
tain public libraries, literal^ associations, and institu-
tions for instruction in the arts.

The productive indiutrg of the country is astonishing,
considering its size and natural capabilitioe. Owing
to its mountainous character, it is more pastdral than
agricultural, and yet a considerable area is under
tillage, yieldbg excellent crops of oats, barley, and rye.
Wheat can scarcely be ranked as an object of culture;
but maize, beans, lentils, potatoes, turnip, hemp, and
flax are raised to some extent. It is in the manage-
ment of the dairy that the Swiss chiefly excel — cattle,
cheese, and butter being articles of export; and to this
end the irrigation of meadow-land is per)i".ps better
conducted than in any other part of Europe. The vine
is cultivated in the valleys; and in some districts largo
orchards of apples, pears, and cherries, for the manufac-
ture of liqueurs. In several of the arts and vian%{fac-
tures the Swiss exhibit great ingenuity and taste; but

137

OHAUBSBS'S mVOBlUnOV FOR THE PEOPUS.

aurt of Htm tM eonduoled mora b th« coMaM of tht
PMMUt laadholdw and th«pkeid than in ind«p«nd«nt
notorial. Tho branohca wUch ara moat attended to
will ba beat ezUMted hj an enumeration of their prin<
dpal expttta— nameljr, aiUu, eottona, lace, glorea,
fratdiea, Jewellenr, muaieal inatrumenta, itraw-plait,
wooden TeaMda. ebaeae, batter, wine, and liqueuie.

Aa (wuda gevemmtnt, the twentr-two cantona into
iHiieh ua oounti7 ia diTided are united on equal termi
in a confederation for mutual defence. The grand
Menl oounoU or Ooneral Diet of Switierland ia com-
poaed of depntiea ftom all the oantoni, each sending
two or tliree deputiea, but exerdaing only one Tote.
This diet meeti once a year, and iita erery two yean
alternately in Beme, Zurich, i^d Lucerne. Its fune>
tion i< to treat, with foreign powers, declue war, con-
clude peace, determine the amount of military force,
regulate the finances of the Confedenttion, and other
matters of common interest. Besides its statutory
meeting, the diet can be assembled at any time on the
request of fire cantons; and when not sitting, its powers
are so fitr delmted to the grand council of the direc-
torial canton for the time being. In all judicial, eede-
riaatical, and fiscal matters, each canton acts for itself
as a free and independent republic, with the exception
of Neufchatel, in which the king of Prussia exercises
the ri^ht of sorereign. There is, strictly speaking, no
standmg army; but each canton has its militia, liable
to be called out either for its own or the general service
— the whole amounting to a force of 64,000 men. The
federal expenses for administration, army, &c. amount
to ;eSO,000 annually, and are defirayed by the interest
of certain capitals set aside for the purpose.

WALT.

This is now merely a physical, not a political terri-
tory, its surface bein^ partitioned into a number of
perfectlv distinct and mdependent states. It is partly
peninsular and partly insular, lying chiefly between
lat. 36° 95' and 46° 40' north, and long. 6° 40' and 19°
east. It is bounded on the north by Switzerland and
Austria, from which it is naturally separated by the
Alps; on the east by the Oulf of Venice; on the south
by the Mediterranean; and on the west by the Medi-
terranean and France. Its area, including that of the
islands, is computed at 12*2,800 square miles. The
laraest and most important of these islands are — Sicily
and the Linari group, belonging to Naples; Sardinia,
to the kingdom of the same name; Corsica, forming one
of the departments of France; Elba, attached to Tus-
cany; and Malta, possessed by Great Britain.

Siq>trjleialbf, Italy exhibits much diTorsIty and
beauty. Ouuded by the Alps, its northern fringe ex-
hibits all the features of the Swiss landscape; but this
soon changes into scenery of the most opposite descrip-
tion — namely, the great plain of Lombaidy, which
extends along the base of these mountains for more
than 250 miles, with on average breadth of 50, is flat
and low, but fertile and well cultivated, and watered
throughout by the Po and its numerous affluents. The
only other mountain development is that of the Apen-
nines, which, branching from the Maritime Alps in
Genoa, range southward like a backbone or spine
through the centre of the peninsula, bifurcating at
Venosa into two minor ridges — the one forming the
heel,th9 other the fore-foot of the fkncifbl boot. From
the Apennines, which attain an extreme height of 9520
feet, the countrr slopes on both sides, intersected by
Btreams and volleys, and terminating near the coast in
llattish land— the largest extent of which is the ' Ma-
remme,' lyin^ between the Amo and Oulf of Goeta,
of variable breadth, but about 220 miles in length.

The principal riven of the country, whidi, on the
whole, may m regarded as well-watered, are — the Po,
with its numerous Alpine tributaries, flowing through
the great plain of Pie<unont and Lombardy,and falling
by several mouths into the Gulf of Venice — subject to
destructive inundations, and, considering its volume
and sluggish current, of no great uh to navigation;
198

the Adige, also flowing into the Oulf of VeaiM ; t^
Tiber, with its small aSuauts, rising in the Aponninei,
and fUling into the Mediterranean, navigabla to Rome;
and the Amo In Tuscany, navigable to Florenoe, and
oonnootlng with the CbJana, one of the tributaries of
the Tiber, bv means of a canal.

OeohgiMUfy, Italy presents considerable diflioultias,
partly in oonsequenoe of the disturbance to which the
formations hav9 been subjected, and partly owing to
the dubious character of some of the ciuaarsous strata.
Granite, primary sohists, and limestones, occur in the
Alps, in the northern extremity of the Apennines, and
in their southern bifurcations. The great central range
of tlw Apennines is said to consist chiefly of Jurassic
limestones, occasionally broken through by older strata,
flanked on the north by seoondaiy rocks, and on the
south, downwards to the Mediterranean, by leoent ter-
tiaries, replete with marine remains. Tlirough these
tertiary sandstones and marly limestones rise numerous
volcanic hills, but lately extinct, or still in operation.
Thb chain of volcanic action may be said to fringe the
whole of the Mediterranean sea-board, from the Amo
to Sicily— exhibiting numerous dormant craters, and
the still active ones of Vesuvius (3200 feet), the Lipari
Isles, Mount iGtna (10,870 feet), besides being accom-
panied by frequent earthquakes and subterranean con-
vulsions. The principal mineral products of the country
are — iron from Ellm ; the finest statuaiy marble ftnm
Carrara in Modena ; sulphur from Sicily ; alum and
nitre from near Rome ; alabaster from Tuscany ; and
in minor quantities copper, lead, ore, borax, salt, pui-
zolana, pumice, and bitumen.

The climate of Italy has been sreatly extolled; but
this is true only of certain localities, and under certain
seasons. The temperature may be generally mild, the
atmosphere of unexampled transparency, and the sky
unclouded ; but certain traclu, as the plain of Lom-
bardy, Campagna di Roma, the Pontine Marshes, the
Campagna of Naples, &c. are subject to the fatal scourge
of the malaria, wliile the southern shores are occarion-
ally visited by the pestilential and enervating sirocco
and simoom. As respects temperature, it is usuiJ to
divide the country into four regions: — 1. North of the
Apennines, or the 44th parallel, where frosts are ez-

Serienoed in winter, and where tlie orange and lemon
_ not flourish in the open air; 2. The central regions,
including Tuscany and the Papal States, where the
vine, olive, orange, lemon, &c. flourish without culture,
and where snow u only known on the mountain heights ;
3. The middle districts of the Neapolitan territory,
where snow is rarely seen on the Apennines, and where
the finest firuits are found in the valleya throughout
the winter; and 4. The southern provinces, of Naples
and Sicily, where the thermometer never falls to the
freerine-point, and the sugar-cane, opuntia, and other
tropical plants, luxuriate iu the low lands.

The vegetable productions of northern Italy diflbr
little fit>m those of southern France, and the valleys
of Switzerland, already described; the oultivation of
rice, and the more extensive growth of the mttll>erry,
being perhaps the main peculiarities. In southern
Italy, the products, as indicated in the preceding para-
graph, are more analogous to those of the south of
Spain — receiving greater diversity from the sucoessive
stages of the Apennines, which are clothed in many
places with forest growth to the very summit. Cn
animals, we may mention the wolf, wild boar, stag,
fox, lynx, badger, marmot, crested porcupine; the
quail, bustard, ortolan, and a variety of game; a num-
ber of snakes and reptUes; the tunny, mullet, anchovy
sardel, and other fisnes ; tho silk-worm, and the oele-
brated tarantula spider.

The inhabitimti are described as * a mixture of raees,
composed of Greeks, Gauls, Germans^ Goths, Arabians,
and many others, who have migrated mto the peninsula
at various times, and intermingled with the original
population, whose language they have superseded.
They have long been divided into numerous tribes and
nations, with tepamte political and social intetesti,

XUBOPB.

I ApwninMU
bUtoRomt;
'loiMio*, uul
rlbutariM of

» diAooltiflit
to which the
tly owing to
ureouiitnta.
occur in the
lenninei, and
oentnlnuige
f of Jarawic
r older itntt*,
I, and on the
>7 teoent ter-
hrottgh theie
dee numeroui
in operation.
. to fringe the
rom the Amo
; eraten, and
it), the Lipari
being aocom-
erranean con-
af the country
marble fimm
y ; alum and
FuicanT ; and
rax, lalt, pui-

estoUed; but

under ocrtain

ally mild, the

, and the iky

ilain of Lom-

\ Manhea,the

« fatal loourge

I an occauon-

vating liiooco

it ii umal to

North of the

froste are ex-

. and lemon

itral regioni,

J, where the

bhout culture,

itain height! ;

an territory,

[ea, and where

]■ throughout

_,of Naplee

falls to the

lift, and other

Italy differ
1 the valleya
.nltivatiou of
ht mulberry.
Tin Kuthern
Wing para-
|he touth of
le suooeniTe
led in many
lummit. of
boar, ttag,
upine; the
Ime; a num-
llet, anchovy
lid the oele-

iieof raoM,
Is, Arabians,
le peninsula
Ithe original

I superseded.

Is tribei and

intereitg.

'and ipeaking dialeeta so different, that ^he inhabitaate
«f me proviaee can soaroely, if at all, undtratand the
language of another.' What we denominate Hatimn is,
howerer, the written language, used by the sereral
gOTemmenta, and woken as a Temaoular by all the
educated olaaaes. The basis of this is the ancient
Latin, modified by the infusion of foreign elements.

The Soman Ouholie reUgioH is that professed in all
the states, and by almost the whole population ; the
only exceptions being the Protestant Waldenses in
Piedmont, the Greeks in the principal commercial
towns, and the Jews, who are found oniefly in Rome,
Leghorn, and Venice. Being the head and centre of
the Papal power, it might be anticipated that the
number of those officially connected with the church in
Italy should be Tery greats though one would hardly
expect that they were as 1 to 50 of the population —
the proportion usually given by statisticians. Eduea-
HonaUg, the country is one of the most neglected in
Europe — the proportion of pupils to the entire popula-
tion being as 1 to 60 in the Papal states ; 1 to £8 in
Lucca ; 1 to 66 in Tuscany ; and as 1 to 70 or more in
the Neapolitan territory. The only state that enjoys
anything like an elementary system is Lombardy, now
under this Austrian empire ; and there the proportion
is said to be as 1 to 18.

The productive induttry of Italy presents considerable
variety, but is by no means so important as the natural
capabilities of the country appear to warrant. Lom-
bardy is the chief corn-growing state, and there agri-
euUure and irrigation are conducted upon something
like correct principles ; in Genoa and Tuscany the cul-
ture of fruit is more attended to ; the central parts are
mainly pastoral ; and in Naples and Sicily ' the abun-
dance of vegetable productions is more owing to the
climate and soil than to the industry of the husband-
man.' The culture of silk, the vine, and olive, are
three important branches, and in these the people
exhibit considerable skill and industry. As m all
Catholic countries, fish forms an important item of
consumption; and consequently the tunny, anchovy,
mullet, and other fisheries, are conducted upon an ex-
tensive scale. ' ItaJy ia not distinguished,' says Mao-
culloch, ' for manufaclures ; the chief are thoue of silk
fabrics, silk thread, &c. which have their principal seat
iu Lombardy. Woollen and linen stuffs, straw-plait,
gauze, artificial flowers, straw-hats, paper, parchment,
leather, porcelain, gloves, essences, and musical instru-
ments, are among the other goods manufactured ; but,
generally speaking, the raw products of the country
form its chief exports, and most manufactured articles,
whether of necessity or luxury, are imported from
foreign nations.'

Politically, Italy is divided into a number of inde-
pendent states, each having its own peculiar govern-
ment, and all less or more of a despotic character. At
present there are nine of these states; but on the demise
of the Duchess of Parma, the Duke of Lucca succeeds
to her estates, and Lucca is to be annexed to Tuscany.
We may shortly enumerate — 1. The kingdom of Sar-
dinia, comprising the island of that name, the princi-
palities of Piedmont and Nice, and the duchies of
Genoa and Savoy. Monarchy absolute and hereditary;
supported by a military force of 40,000 men, and a
small navy. 2. Venetian Lombardy, which includes the
ancient republic of Venice and the duchy of Mantua.
This province now forms an integral port of Austria,
and is under the administration of a viceroy, appointed
by the emperor, by whose troops it is garrisoned. S. The
duchy of Parma, the government of which is also abso-
lute, but paternal in spirit. 4. Modena, including
the small duchies of Modena, Reggio, Mirandola, and
Massa-Carrara. 5. Lucca, a small maritime duchy, occu-
pying a comer of Tuscany, to which it is to be even-
tually attached. 6. Tuscany (anciently Etruria), a
graod-duchy, consisting of one large unbroken terri-
tory, a detMhed portion on the confines of Parma, and
the isles of Elba and Giglio; after Lombardy, the most
i&duitrioua and well-conducted of the Italian states.

7. StatM of the Church, all lying oontiguoui, with the
exoeption of St Benevento ana Pont* Corvo, in the
Neapolitan territory; ruled by th« pope, as a secular
prince; and as this prelate ii elected nom the college
of oardinali, the government may be described as an
elective monarchy. 0. San Marino, a unall republlo,
fonnine an enclave of the Church States, and under the
protection of the pope. 9. The kingdom of Naplee—
or, as it is sometimes odled, Tht> Kingdom of the Two
Siciliee — comprehending the southern noion of the
peninsula, the large isumd of Sicily, ana the Lipari
Isles. The government is an absolute hereditary mo-
narchy, supported by a force of 80,000 men, and a
considerable navy.

TURKEY IN KUBOI-E.

The Turkish or Ottoman empire embraces a series of
territories, situated partly in Europe, partly in Asia,
and, if we consider its nominal conneoikion with £igypt,
partly also in Africa. A vast extent of the country
thus indicated is, however, virtually indroendent:
Egypt may be said to be wholly so; the Danubian
regions of Moldavia, Wallachia, and Servia, are but
slenderly related, and many of the tribes in Asiatic
Turkey bear as little all^iance to the sultan as they
do to the sovereign of Britain. It is to that portion
of the empire generally delineated by geograpners as
' Turkey in Europe ' that we now confine our descrip-
tion. Lying between lat. 89° and 48° north, and long.
16° and 29° east, this territory is bounded on the nortL
by Austria aad Russia; east by the Black Sea, Sea of
Marmora, and the Archipelago; south by Greece; and
west by the Ionian and Adriatic Seas. The area thus
enclosed is estimated at 180,200 square miles, exclu-
sive of a few isles in the upper part of the Archipelago,
and of the itiland of Candia in the Mediterranean.

Respecting tho phyiieal atptct and conttru^ioti of the
country little is known with accuracy — less, perhaps,
than of any other section of Europe. The mountains
which give diversity to the southern provinces ore the
Dinaric, Balkan, Candavian, Rhodope, and other rami-
fications of the Alpine system; the Eastern Carpathians
form the only ridge in the north, and that merely as
a boundary with Austria, in which they have their
chief development. South of the Balkan range the
surface presents considerable diversity — hill and glen,
slope and well-watered valley; none of the latter being
entitled to the character of plain, except those in
Macedonia, Thrace, and Thessaly, which have been
long celebrated for their beauty and fertility. The
northern provinces, on the other hand, present exten-
sive level tracts, inferior to none in Europe in point of
size, and generally of the richest alluvium, unless
where they degenerate into marshes skirting the Danube,
as in Wallachia and Bulgaria. The minerals of econo-
mical '.iuportance are marble ; iron, copper, lead, and
jilver ore; magnesia, meerschaum, and whetstones; but
milling, unless in Bosnia, is little attended to.

As to climate, Turkey is generally said to be ' colder
than the other countries of Europe lying within the
same parallels.' In the flat provinces of the north the
summer is hot and sultry; the winter, on the other
hand, is severe, and snow lies for fully five months on
the mountains. South of the Balkan, whose heights
are annually covered with snow, the seasons are less
marked; and though the weather is somewhat change-
able, the climate of the valleyu is delightful. In
Croatia, Bosnia, and the adjoining provinces, the cereals
and other cultivated crops can be raised in any quan-
tities on the plains, while the mountain-slopes ai-e clad
with forests of oak, elm, and pine. South of the Bal-
kan the country is covered with forests of the sycamore,
plane, carob, box, and cypress; gardens of roses, jas-
mine, and lilac; vineyards and orchards of nearly all
kinds of fruit-trees; but it is destitute of the olive,
which, except in some favourable localities, does not
thrive north of lat. 40°. The Flora of Albania is similar
to that of the opposite coast of Italy: in Thessaly— the
garden of European Turkey— the oure, vine, fig, pome>

CHAHBEBCni INrOBttJinOV FOB THE PEOPIH.

mn»k«, walnut, klntimd; o)nwig«, Ictecni oHrott; eottoii,
tobMo<>, illk, kt. in MtinA \h pwftWIdn ; white blo«ii.
ibf *lldlT M« til* hy%el*th, naKlimi*. tuli^ M>d o»h«
niMlinki of our gwMMi*. The prlneipftl wild cmim«Mi
»re-thfe htM, wird-lKwr, »olf, J»ek»», for, fccj »bun-
dulc« of d««r and nme; a plentiAiI luppfy of fiih,
aibong which th« ituneon ii Mcnliar; and the lUk.
#«nh, fint mured In fiiirope ai Conitantinople about
file middle of the lixth ceutuTj.

The mUiM fitoph of the country are the Ottoman
Turka^'an onhoot firom the Toorlceo or Tartan of Cen-
tral Alia, Wh6, in the year 1 409, conquered that piirt
of iht eountijf' Tyintf within the eonilnee of Europe.
Intermixture with other riteei, and the physical condi-
tion! of place, hare itamped them, bowerer, with
peculiitfitfee not to be found in tho existing Asiatic
Mongols. Thp ther inhabitants — more humoroui in
■eteral provinces than the Turks — are the Greeks in
TlMalyand RuHiili; the Albanians in the west; the
CiMttj, Bosnians, SeWians, and other Sciaronians^ the
WalliuhianS And Armenians ; Jews, Oipsies, and
PtiaUt, The Turki, and many of the Albanians,
Bu^ga^ans, and' Bosnians, are Mohammedans or ob-
serreM of the Koran ritual; the Greeks, Servians, and
■ome of the Boimians, belong to the Greek Church; the
Jews adhere to their own ancient belief; while many
in all of the provinces are Roman Catholics, or of no
fUth at all. ^ In Turkey,' says a hi^ authority, * the
great number of employments for which learning is
necessaiy acts as a stimulus to the desire for education,
and there is accordingly no want of schools, where the
elements of knowledge — aa spoiling, reading, and the
principles of grammar and religion — are taught. To
all the imperial mosques are attached mudreses or col-
leges, where aspirants to legal or sacerdotal offices are
instructed.' TAe reader must not be misled, however,
brthis statement: there are thousands in every pro-
vuide who never saw the form of a letter; nor can we,
with cur ideas of instruction, regard that as a liberal
education which is restricted to the reading of the
Koran and its Commentaries, to the code of civil law,
or to the studlei of astrology and medicine as expounded
by the Arabic writers of the ninth centuiY i

Every branch of induttry, says the * Cyclotwedia of
Commerce,' is in a backward state in Turkey. Although
there is a general recognition of the principles of firee
trade, yet in most parts power makes mw, and there is
no real securitr of property. The cultivators aro con-
gregated in villages, and apricuAure is in a very rude
condition; still, so grett is the fertility, that tliere is a
surplus of com for exportation. The grains chiefly
cultivated are — maize, wheat, rye, barley, oats, and
buckwheat; the vine is grown in most of the provinces;
and flax, hemp, safliran, cotton, tobacco, madder, &c.
chiefly in the south. Mawtfaeluret appear formerly
to have attained greater excellence than was to be ex-
pected; but of late years they have been depressed by
foreign competition, and the domestic weaving of cot-
ton stuff for family use, and some silks at Constanti-
nople and Salonica, are now almost the only branches
of contequence. In hardwares, the braziers and iron
smiths of ShumU have acquired some celebrity ; steel is
manufactured at Bosna-Serai, and flrearms at Semen-
dria, Gabrora, and other places. Commerce is impeded
by the want of roads; and almost all merchandise is
conveyed throughout the country on horseback.

The gotemmenl Is an absolute monai'Chy o^ despotism,
hereditary in the family of Oiman, but restricted to
males. The sultan, as caliph, or successor of the pro-
phet Mohammed, unites the highest spiritual dignity
with the supreme secular power. He has unlimited
control over the property and lives of his subjects,
from the meanest menial to the highest oflicer of state,
whom he can remove or put to death at will. The
only limit to his will is the Kor&n, or Book of Moham-
med (see No. 76), which he is bound by his oath of
office to observe: and this is in rtelit^ tho source of
oil civil, political, or criminal law. In addition to the
cdde of laws, the interpretations of the olema, or priest-

200

hood, have graalwti^t la the tcihanab. Tha mufti
is not only the chief of the priesta, buA the highaal
interpreter of the lawt; and hie daeisiosw ava ooUeoted
and respected as preoedcots. For adminialrative puf^
poses, the provinces and prineipaUtiaa aie arranged Into
eyalets, and these again into livas er saacUak% Miper*
intended by viaiers, pachaa, beys, and o. .er oflkiala.
Population, 18,300,000; revenue, £3,^4,000; debt,
^£7,600,000; army, 184,000. Capiti*!, Constantinople,
with A00,000 inhabitants.

OMKI.

This country, whose ancient history is so intimately
associated with all that is leftnad and ennobling in
human progress, occupies the south-east extremity of
Europe, commonly dbtinguiahed aa the Hellenic Penin-
sula. It ie surrounded ny the Mediterranean, exeent
on the north, where it is bounded by Turkey, of which,
till 1821 , it formed one of the eomponent saetieus. Its
area is estimated at 1S,000 square miles, of which not
more than two-fifths are susceptible of cultivation.

The phyrieal atpeet of the country is decidedly moun-
tainous and rugged; its hills, though seldom rising
above 5500 feet (Liakoura in the Parnassus is 8068
feet, and 8t Elias in the Morea 7000 feet), being so
abrupt and craggy as to assume an appearance more
majestic and imposing than many others of double the
altitude. Risins and radiating in every direction, the
hills occupy fully three -fifths of the surface, leaving
the remainder in narrow defiles, glens, and basin-ehaped
valleys, wbich respectively formed the sites of the
numerous petty states into which ancient Greece was
divided. The mineral products are — marble of various
colours, porphyry, slate, coal, gypsum, sulphur, alum,
asphalte, zinc, lead, iron, gold, silver, copper, manga-
nese, and cobalt ; none of which, however, ace obtained
in important quantities.

Considerable diversity </ elimate is experienced, in
consequence of the varied altitude of the country, and,
the manner in which it is intersected by bays, gulfs,
hills, and valleys. No portion reaches the snow-line,
but snow annuallv falls on the higher hills, where it
often lies for weeks together. Winter may be said to
be confined to December and January; spring and
autumn ore marked by heavy rains, usually accom-
panied by tempests and thunder-storms ; but through-
out the whole summer, of Aill six months' duration, a
cloud is seldom to be seen ; and though the temperature
often exceeds 100° Fahrenheit, yet the tempering in-
fluence of the sea-breeze prevents the heat from Imng
oppressive. Tbe vegetable and animal products of con-
tinental Greece are quite analogous to those of Southeni
Itrly and Turkish Thessaly, already described, with
this difference, that the ascending zones of vegetation
ore narrower, and more decidedly marked, from the
vine and olive of the sunny valley to the beech and
pine of the mountain.

The dominant people are tho Hellenes or Greeks, who
chiefly inhabit the eostem and central parts, and who
boast of descent from the aboriginal Qraoi or Oraicoi.
Their language is tbe Romaic, a modernised form of
the ancient Greek, to which it bears a much closer re-
semblance than the Italian does to the Latin. The
other inhabitants are Albanians, occupying the greater
part of Liradin and the western part of the Morea ;
and Mainotes, in the south of the peninsula, who boast
of descent from the ancient Spartans. The established
or national reli^on is that of the ' Orthodox Oriental
Apostolic,' or Greek Church, having the sovereign for
its head, and governed by a holv synod, consistmg of
seven members annually elected by the dignitaries from
their own number. Th4 only other rituiU observed to
any extent is that of the Roman CatholiCi and this
more especially in the islands. EducationaUy, Greece
promises well, though at present not one-eighth of the
children receive any instruction whatever. By an edict
which is gradually taking tfffed, a number of elemeii-
taiT schools and higher gymnasia are to be estd>Ushed
and mainb^ed out of the revenue of the former Miiot

KUROFi.

tuiitortM^uid of tlMM MminuiM upwordt of forty
i « now in opwfttion.

?Im pnthietiM Wuitry of th* country diffon UttU
>';«.n thftt of tha Muthem part* of Tarkev, alrMdy d«-
•eribad. AgrieuUnro it in » very primitiTe condition;
but tho flne Mil of tha Talleya ennblat tha inhnbitwU
to rasp asoallant eeranl cropi, which nra ripa about tlw
and of Jane. Tha rina and eurrant>fcrapa ara axtan-
■tvaly eultiratad; tha other fruit* ara mora tha gift of
nature than tha reiulti of culture. Tha roanufacturaa
are moetly domaitic, and quite inconiiderabla; flihing
ia largely carried on; and the extent of their commer-
cial intcircoune with the neighbouring oountriw of the
Levant ia taid to employ 4500 TOtaeli, naTigatcd by
vpwaidi of 16,000 men.

Tha gooenment ii a conatitutional, though nearly
a deapotic, monarchy. Oreaoa formed a part of the
Turkish empire till 1821, when the people revolted,
and after a long and aevere itruggle, lucceeded with
tha aid of England, France, and Ruieia, in achieving
their independence. The country wai accordingly
formed into the new kingdom of Hellaa, and Otho, a
prince of Bavaria, appointed king. The Council of
state i* compoaed of three vioe-preaidenti, seventeen
councillors in ordinary, and fourteen special council-
lors. Subsequently, Athens was declared the capital,
and the country divided, for administrative purposes,
into twenty-four nomoi or governments, and seven sub-
governments. National debt about £4,286,000; reve-
nue, £A27,000 ; expenditure, £600,000. Array, 3)100 ;
navy, 82 vesseli, of all sizes, manned by 2000 hands.

lontan blanda.
The Jonfan IiUmdi, situated on the wast and south coasts,
ware formed in 1818 into an independent republio or oligarohy,
under the proteothm of Britain, by whose troops they ore gar-
risoned. Tlie principal islands are Corhi (which, as tho key to
the Adriatic, has always been of considerable political Import-
anoe), Kophalonia, Zante, Santa Maura, Thiaki or Ithaca,
Ccrigo, and Paxos, containing an area of 1041 square miles,
with a population of SiS.OOO. The government Is vested in a
liigh commissioner, residing at Corfu, who represents tho British
sovereign; n logislntive assembly of twcnty-nino members,
elected partly by the nobles and portly by the commissioner ;
and a sennto of five memliers, elected by tho legislative ns-
sembly, with a president appointed by the commissioner. The
army, the police, and the lanitA, or health establishment, are
under the sole direction of the high commissioner. These
islands exhibit in miniature, both physically and industrially,
the ohlsf features of tho mainland.

AUSTRIA.

The Austrian empire occupies a large portion of
central Europe, and consists of an aggre|(ation of king-
doma, principalities, and duchies, acquired at various
timet by treaty or by conquest. To the archduchy of Aus-
tria, the nucleus of the whole, there have been added
since the end of the thirteenth century the kingdom of
Bohemia, Moravia, part of Silesia, Styria, Illyria, Tyrol,
Auwhwatx, and Zator in Oalicia — all belonging to the
Germanic confedevation; Galicia, one of the partitions
of Poland; Buckowina^ formerly part of Moldavia; the
kingdom of Hungary (including Croatia, Sclavunia, and
the Military Frontier) ; the principality of Transyl-
vauia, whiw had been connected with Hungary for
many centuries ; and lastly, Venetian Lombardy, at-
tached ao recently as 1815. This vast territory, though
thus composed of a heteroeeneous assemblage of tribes
and nations, lies compactly together, and la situated
between lat. 42° and 51° north, and long. 8° 30' and
26° 30' east. Its area is estimated at 257,368 square
miles, of which 75,822 are occupied by the provipces
induded under the German confederacy ; aggregate
population, 35,804,152.

The wUunl features of the empira, axclusive of
Lombardy, already deacribed under Italy, exhibit wide
and well-marked diversity of hill and plain. The
roountain-iangea are bold and oontinuoua; the plains
are amongst the most extensive in Europe. Of tha for-
imer, tha principal are — ^the Alpine development of the

Tyrol, wUcb, under tha title of tU Camie, Julian, uid
other ridgaa, divais* into Illyria and Styria: tha aaatam
and wattem Carpathiaua. which ancirola tha whole of
Hungary and Transylvania north of tha Danube, rami-
fying into the minor chains of tha Jablunka, Little
Carpathiaas, Ac; and lastly, tha Kietan-gabirge, Eri-
oebirg^ and BShmerwald ranges, which, ancloaing
Bohamia, form tha boundary with Saxony and Bavaria.
In tho western or Oerroanic provinoea of tha atnplra
there ttra a number of fine valleys, watered by auflk
rivera aa the Inn, Enns, Moldau, March, Muhr, and
Drave; while in Oalicia and Hungary expand aoma of
those vast plains which givo character to this region
of Eurone. The most remarkable of these is that of
Middle Hunsaiy, traversed by the Danube, the Theias,
Drave, and Maros, and said to comprise an area of
35,000 square mile*.

The country abounds in miiwrafs; but its capabilities
are far from being developed. Oold and silver are mined
in Hungary and Transylvania; quicksilver at Idria in
Comiola ; the supply of iron is immense ; l«>ad and
copper are abundant; tin, calamine, zinc, cobalt, anti-
mony, bismuth, manganese, and almost every other
metal, can be procured. There are also nbundant
supplies of rock-salt, as at Wieliczka; marble, coi^,
alum, saltpetre, and sulphur; clay for the finost porce-
lain; quartz for glass; and most of the precious stones.
Connected with its geology, we may notice the mineral
and thermal ipringt, of which nearly a hundred are
annually fre<|uented by visitors from all countria*.'

In point ot climate, the country is generally divided
into three regions. 1. The southern, extending from
lat. 42° to 46° north, where the depth of winter
resembles the month of March in northern countries,
and where are found the vine, fig-tree, olive, and
myrtle. 2. The middle region, from lat. 46° to 49*
north, where the olive is not found, but where maize
and vines thrive in favourable situations. Here winter
lasts from three to four months; summer is warm, but
variable; and the air is salubrious, except in the vici-
nity of the Hungarian marshes. 3. The northern zone,
extending from lat. 49° to 51° north, where wintor ia
severe, and lasts fully five months; where vines and
maize are no longer met with, and where wheat requires
a. favourable situation. Under these various climatic
influences, and with a generally fertile soil, Austria
possesses most of the cultivated grains and fruits;
while in her extensive forests flourish all the timber-
trees known in England. Among the wild animals
may be noticed the brown bear, wolf, lynx, roe, red
and fallow-deer, the iber, elk, urus; wild boar, and
herds of rather diminutive hones, which range uncon-
trolled in the plains of Hungary; a variety of game
birds, the golden and other >>.igles, herons in vast
flocks; the land tortoise; leecl 08, which supply tha
greater part of Europe; the blistering fly; and the bee,
whose wax and hoTiey yield a large annual revenue;
with the silkworm in Venetian Lombardy and the lower
district of the Tyrol.

The population, which consists of several distinct
races, is arranged by the best authorities in the follow-
ing proportions: — 1. About 18,000,000 are of Sclavonic
extraction, and are found in Illyria, the eastern parts
of Styria, the archduchy of Austria which borders upon
Hungary, in some parts of Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia,
Transylvania, Dalmatia, and the Military Frontier.
2. The Germans number about 6,300,000, and form an
integral part of the population in the archduchy, Styria,
Carinthia, the Tyrol, Moravia, and Bohemia; but con-
stitute separate communities in Hungary, Transylvania
(where they are denominated Saxons), Galicia, the Mili-
tary Frontier, and in the Venetian territories. 3. The
third race are the Ma^ars, 6,300,000, who are esteemed
of pure Asiatic extraction, and form the majority of
the inhabitants of Hungary' and Transylvania. 4. The
Italians, 4,760,000, constitute nearly the entire popu-
lation of Venetian Lombardy and the south of the
Tvrol. 5. The Wallachians, a medley of ancient
Thradans, Romans, and Sdavonians, 1,900,000, chiefly

201

OHAXBttura tstovtumoif von the psopik.

found in TrMnrlrMiiai Hvaguy, uid BuekowiMk 0.
Tht Jtwi, 052,000, prinolpiaiy iwkUag in Oklidn,
Hungarr, nnd llonri*. 7. TIm OiMlM. Anauto,
UrMkt.AnnMiiuM.lt&numbM'inc in ftU about 100,000.
The domiiunU rdigiim of iha unpiN it Romnn C»-
tholio; but tlM OnA. United Churoh and tJio Arme-
ninn Cntholio Cltunili hnr* »Im tlioir dignitnriM and
attabliahmrat*. ProtMtantiam it in mofti partt of tlit
•mpira only toltratad; thouglt in Hungutj and Tran-
qrlvaoia tbo rowDban of that faith oqior tndownwnti
and r 'al priviltget with Catbolioa. Unltarianiim hat
ban ' pNvaltnt in TrantyWania; the Jewi adhere
to tbi 'laic ritual i and manj of the Oermaiii now
openly leta a sort of dei«m or ratioualiiin. In refe-
nnet iv eUmtmtan inMtntetion, Auttria (with the ex-
oeption porhapt of Hungary and Dalmatia) hat recently
taken a nigh position, and ib itill doing ail in her power
to maiutam it. Every ohild, from Ato to thirteen yean
of age, it compelled to attend ichuol, and there receire

Sneral initniotion. It it alto ordained that no perion
all enter the marriage ttatt who it not able to read,
write, and caat accountt; that no matter of any trade
diail, without paving a heavy penalty, employ work-
men who are unable to read ana write; and that tmall
bookt of a moral tendency ihall be dittributed at the
lowatt price to all tubjectt of the empire.

Jndutfriailjf, Auitria it yet more an agricultural and
pastoral than a manufacturing country. It fumithet
wheat and other bread- corns in abundance; fruits,
wine, hops, hemp, flax, tobacco, saffron, and dye-
ttuffs; hides, horns, wax, honey, silk, and other ani-
mal produce. As already meui,ioned, silk is largely
manufactured in Lombardy; and latterly considerable
enoouragemeut hat been given to manufactures in cot-
ton and linen in the southern provinces; while Bohe-
mia and Moravia have long been celebrated for their
manufactures in woollent, leather, glass, hardware,
and firearms. The mineral produce has been already
adverted to; and, eohtmeroiallj), Trieste, Fiume, and
Ragutaare rapidly riting into importance. The means
of transit for trade and general intercourse have also of
late years been greatly extended. Austria now pos-
te st e s majpiificently-constructed roads, leading through-
out the chief provinces; has several well-kept canals of
considerable length; has five or six long lines of rail-
way; and these in addition to the great navigable
rivers, the Maros, Theiss, Drave, and Danube— the last
of which has been open to steam-navigation since 1822.
The jfovemmenl of Austria is a pure den>otism (we
ipeak without reference to the present (1849) un-
settled state of the country), under a hereditaiy em-
peror and a ministry of his own appointment. Ge-
nerally, the provinces have each a species of local
parliament, oontiiting of the nobles. In imperial
Itgislation and finance, none of these provincial bodies
hat any voice, the emperor being the maker of all the
lawi for his subjects. They meet annually, and their
main duty is to receive projects of taxation from
the crown, and to allocate the imposition over their
respective districts. There are, however, some excep-
tions to the stringency of despotic power: in Hungary,
nothing can be decreed by the eovereion without the
concurrence of the Diet, at it it oallea, or provincial
assembly; Transylvania has a separate Diet, but sends
members to that of Hungary; and in Tyrol there is a
ipecies of representation. The emperor, in virtue of
the states already mentioned, is a member of the Ger-
man Confederacy, in the Diet ot which he exerciiet
four votes, and enjoys, besides, the right of presiding.
Army about 406,000 men; national debt, ^86,31 0,000;
revenue, £15,000,000 sterling. The capital city it
Vienna, with a population of 375,834.

GERMANY.

Genuany, as it is called by the English, I'AUemagne
by the French, and Deutsoh or Teuttchland by the
nativM themselves, it a vatt tttritoiy, extending from
the Baltic Sea on the north to the Gulf of Venice,
Italy, and Switwrland on the touth; having Prutiian
20i

Poland and Hungaiy on kh« «ul, and Franoa, tlM
Netherlandt, and German Ocean on tha watt, Thia
lagion, oooupying an aiaa of 346,000 tauaia milat, it
oompotad of a numbar of ttataa, indapandaat at lagaidi
their interior adminitttation, but by tha treaty of
Vienna united into ona body, called the Oermanio
Confadaration, which, bv meant of a federative diet,
profestei to maintain tha peaoa and security of the
whole. Under this confadeia<7 *** included not only
the confuted aggregation of small principaiitiet and
duchies, but also the greater part of Prussia, tha
western provinces of Austria, parti of Limburg and
Luxemburg in the Nttherlandt, and Uolstaiu and
Lauenburg in Denmark. Tha following description,
however, will be directed more atpeaially to tha ttatet
forming the region oommonly known at Germany, and
to the condition of thete ttatet previout to tha existing
(1849) attempts at political consolidation.

With regard to php$ieal eot{figwration, tha country
may be divided into two regiont — the northoro and
toutharn, teparated from each other by the irregular
hilly band of tha Fichtel Gebirse, Rhon Gebirga, Kc
which fornit at the tame time the great watar-abad of
the country. The northern region it almost entirely
level, iuoludinff vatt tracts of heath and light sandy
soil in the nortn-eatt, aitd swamps and maruet in tha
north-west; while the coast is in some placet to low,
as to require dikes to defend it from the sea. In tliit
division, the soil, except in Saxony, it in general poor^
but not unsusceptible of improvement. The touthera
portion it more diversified, presenting several long
ranges of hills, counterbalanced by the extensive plaint
of Wirtemborg and Bavaria, from 950 to 1400 feet above
the sea-level. Here also the land it superior, and in
raanv districts extremely fertile. In the central hilly
band, and weitward towardt the Rhine, there are many
fine river-valleys, verdant, well-wooded, and not devoid
of picturesque beauty. Indeed no country In Eurojpa
is better watered than Germany, being traversed oy
several hundred rivers, four of which are of the first
class, and about sixty less or more navigable.

The rock fortnaliont which give character to the
country beein with the granitic and primary develop-
ments of tne Alps and Biibmerwald, and terminate
with marine and alluvial deposits of recent origin.
Of the metals and minerals sought after and obtained
in Germany, we may mention — gold and silver from
the £rze (ore) and Hartx mountains, iron, copper,
tin, lead, cinnabar, cobalt, bismuth, antimony, and
zinc; coal, rock-salt, sulphur, alum, saltpetre, marble,
alabaster, gypsum, lithographic slate, roofing-slate,
lime, and a variety of building stones; calcedonies,
agates, amethysts, and other precious stones.

The elmat0 of Germany is said to be ' less variable
than the nature of its mountain system, and the ranges
of latitude within which it lies, would lead us to
imagine ; and its vegetation resombles in its general
character that of England, or the north of France.'
The vegttcble products of prime economical import-
ance are — the usual bread-corns, maize, buckwheat,
pulse, potatoes, turnips, cabbage, hemp, flax, hops,
rapeseed, madder, aniseed, mustttfd, be. ; all the garden
fruits in great profusion; and the vine in lavour-
able situations south of lat. 51", but most successfully
on the banks of the ' wide and winding Rhine,' on the
Maine, Neckar, Moselle, and Danulie, The extensive
forest growth, which fonns one of the peculiar features
of Germany, supplying the inhabitanta with fuel and
timber, at well at with an article of export, consists
principally of oaks, beeches, firs, pinea, larches, elms,
alders, and birch. Among the domesticated animals,
we may particularise the Holstein and Friesland breeds
of the horse and ox ; the merino sheep of Saxony; and
the swine of Bavaria and Westphalia.

The people of this portion of the Confederation are
mainly of Germanic, Teutsch, or Gothic origin, speak-
ing various dialects of the high and low Dutch ; but
usmg, as a written medium, the well-known high Dutch
or German language. The other inhabitants are— tha

lutopi.

Jtion are

\, spmk-

ch; but

k Dutch

-th«

Prmek on tk« tUilnai mbm SeUiwiiuit ia th« mmI;
Mtd • namter of Jowi in the prinoipAl citioo. Cakho.
lloim and Luthoran and Oalvialitto Piotootantini
dirido amonf tkom tU groat bulk of tlio pooplo, tho
chiof oiooptloni boing tho Jowi and RatlonalUto— tho
lattwr haTing gioatly Inctoaiod within tho lait ton or
flftoon yoan. * Hifaoa H oiiaf /j f,' layo a itandaid autho-
rity, * no part of Europo enjoTt adrantagoo oqual to
Gormany, oopocially tho northern part of it. Tho
parochial lohooU ato lo genoral, that nono but tho
wiUVilly ignorant, or thofo of iraporfoot fMialtioo, can
be unaoqualntod with roading, inriting, and tho fint
mloo of arithmotie. Tho ichooli for daMioal initruc-
tion, donominatod gymnaoiumi, podagogiumii and Iv-
eoumi, aro found in almott orory larn town, and dU-
ponio loaming at a rorf cheap rate. The uniTonitiea are
•ufflolently numorout (nineteen witliin the entire Con>
federation), and well endowed to prorido iuetruction
in the higher brancheoof knowledge upon tenni nearly,
if not altogether, gratuitoui.

InduMtnaUn, the Oermani aro a thrifty, plodding
people, and to thie ipirit are they mainly indebted for
the poiition they have acquired in the arte and manu-
faoturof. Thoir agriculture and huibandry — tho pro-
duce of which ha* been already noticed — are of a tidy
and domeitio character; not conducted, ae with ui,
upon a large toale, but in imall ' hofs,' which are profit-
ably and ikilf^illy managed. The produoti of their rivtr
fiihtrif hare alio been mentioned, ae well ae that of their
miM<t, which have been long conducted upon correct
and Kientiflo prinoiplee. The principal manvfaetvrei
are thoee of linen and thread in Sileiia, Bohemia, Weit-

Shalia; of woollen goods in Saxony, Lower Rhbe, Silesia,
Irondenburg; of dlk, leather, cotton goods, and laoe in
the Ert-gebirge ; of tapestry, paper, and glass in Bohemia
and Silesia: of mirrors near Nutemburg; of china at
Berlin, Meissen, and Vienna; of delf ware in various
places; of jewellery at Berlin and Auesburg; of iron
wares in Westphalia and the Rhenish countries; of
firearms and sword-blades at Spandau, Potsdam, jtc;
of cannon at several capitals; of gunpowder, tobacco,
artificial flowers, straw-hats, musical and other instru-
ments; of wine, beer, brandy, liqueurs, vitriol; of books,
which is one of the most extensive trades in the Con-
federation; and to these we may add smoked and salted
provisions. Internal com»Mmica(ion is carried on chiefly
by the large rivers already mentioned; but partly also
by several important canals, and recently by some first-
rate linos of railway.

With respect to government, it has been already
stated that the component states are independent
as regards their interior administration, which is
rener^yof an absolute kind; but, by the treaty of
Vienna, are united into one body, which, by means of
a federative Diet, professes to regulate the common
interest. The ordinary business of this Diet is trans-
acted by a permanent minor council or committee,
composed of seventeen votes, of which eleven principal
states — namely, the Austrian empire, the kingdoms of
Prussia, ft^varia. Saxony, Hanover, Wirtemberg, Grand
Duchies of Baden, Hessen- Darmstadt, Luxemburg,
Electorate of Hessen-Cassel, and Duchy of Holstein—
have each one, and the other twenty-seven only six
votes; but when weigl / affairs are under considera-
tion, the Diet forms itself into a general assembly or
Plenum, which contains sixty-nine votes. The mem-
bers oonveno at Frankfort -on -the -Maine; and the
presidency is vested in Austria. The Confederate array,
when assembled, consists of more than 900,000 men,
fhmished by the respective states in the pro^rtion of
1 soldier for each 100 inhabitants for the active army,
and of 1 soldier for each 200 of the inhabitants, for the
army of reserve.

HOLLAND,

This is one of the secondary kingdoms of Europe,
lying along the south-eastern shoree of the 0«man
nsa, which, from their uniformly low and level oha-
taeter, are generally known to geognqthers as the

UJU9 MOar*
ti Uiu*

Netkarlandi. Ita •re* ia aatlnatad •*
milao, or IS^M, if wa Indado tka portlou
burg and LuMmbun, represantad By the kiiig^ as
grand duke, ia the federative Diet of Oormauy.

Superjhtalh, the whole oountry, saving some slight
elevations in Oelderlaad, Utrcjht, and Overyieel, forms
one unbroken flat, without a hill or rook, without
forests, or, except in the south part, running waters;
tho land consisting mainly of moor, marsh, and mav
dow-land, traversed by numerous eanals, which, while
they are abeolutely necessarv to drain it, and render it
fit for cultivation, answer for the moot part the pur-
poses of roads— many of them being navigable for
large vessels. To describe iU surface, however, merely
as a low unbroken flat, U not all; in many plaosa ita
level actually fails from twenty to forty feet below that
of the sea, against which it U protected partly, aa in
Zealand, Friesland, and Oelderland, by enormous dikaa,
and partly, as between the Holder and the Hook of
Holland, by sandhills or dunei, cast up by the ooean
upon the shores. To preserve these dikes and dunoa
by artificial facings, and plantings of bent and saa-
plne, is one of the chief cares of the government; and
yet, in spite of every precaution, laige tracts have
several times suffered from inundations. The geolon
of the country is thus entirely limited to the most
recent marine and river deposits — consisting of dav,
sand, mud-silt, and peat-moss — from which the onnr
economical products obtained are — potters' clay, fol-
lers' earth, and peat for fuel.

The climate, as might be expected from the situation
and lowness of the oountry, as well as from the num-
ber of water-courses which intersect its surfaoe, is gene-
rally moist and foggy. In winter, Holland experiences
a much lower temperature than the opposite coast of
England — the river mouths and caniJs being covered
with ice often for three months together; while in
summer, though the nights are generally cold, the day-
heat is far alM>ve that experienced even in the most
southerly part of our island.

The natural vegetation is of the scantiest description:
there are no forests, and only a few plantations of o»k,
beech, and elm, clumps of pine on the links or sand-
drift, and rows of willow and poplar along the banks
of the canals. The principal cultivated plants are —
oats, rye, and buckwheat; barley, wheat, and the legu-
minous crops in smaller quantities; potatoes, flax,
hemp, tobacco to a considerable extent; madder, rape-
seed, chicory, mustard, and beet; tulips, hyacintns,
lilies, dahlias, and other garden flowers, for which the
country around Haarlem has long been celebrated.
There is nothing peculiar in the breeds of the domes-
ticated onimo/t; and the only wild ones deserving of
notice are — hordes of rats and mice, which infest tho
cultivated grounds; frogs and other reptiles, which
swarm in the canals; and the stork, which annuiJIy
visits and breeds in the oountry, where it is specially
protected for its valuable services in ridding the waters
of their reptile exuberance. Water- fowl, wild and
tame, abound in all the provinces; and the adjacent
sea-banks swarm with herrings, cod, sole, ray, turbot,
and other flat fish.

Of the inhabitante, about three-fourths are Hollanders
or Dutch, speaking a variety of the German language
known nowhere else in Europe; the remainder Doing
the Prisons in North Friesland, the Germans in Lux-
emburg and Limbuig, the WiJloons or Flemings in
Limburg, and about 60,000 Jews establisued in the
principal towns. As to religion, the majority of the
people are Calvinistio ProtMtanis, with a regularly-
constituted clergy ; the minority consisting of Lutherans,
Mennonites, Remonstrants, Roman Catholics, and Jews.
There is, however, no dominant sect in the oountry i
all forms of faith and ritual are alike tolerated ; the
clergy are indiscriminately maintained by the state;
the universities ai« upheld in the same manner, and
these are open to students of all sects, whose theological
studies are conducted under professon of their own
creed. The system of public taucatiM adopted in Hoi*

SNS

CBAMBUUri IXrOBlliAfbf FOB TBI PBOtU.

\mi kM <MM mu«h «m1 4MMnr«U7 MkbmM— tatng,
UBM tiM wkoU. oM aT tiM moM eompM* In fcuropa
nU*lv« «• U* •^•blWuBW* of ■okMbi »*• M»I»»n»'
nmil of tMiAtrt. mmI tbo «ouiw of iMttuotlon. Tho
wkoU k H«d«r tlM npOTiatoadono* of Iko rainitUr of
tlw latMior, MiiilMl bj M inip«oior-||tn«r»l, fVoiu
wkMi aU ckwgW|Mi•*' rofol'^lo'**! *»(! uo imnif'
dklaworkliif of Mia •jnUmi <■ tUputod to lood inipoo-
tan «iA boftnit of nuuiAfomont. No ttftdior U allowod
lo UMiiM kk proftition until ho Em roooirod » aorti<
t«ail« tf fraoral aniUiflcfttion, iiur to bo »ppoiutod to
MIT tekool until bit fltnoM for th»t pMrtioular cbargo
ka* taon Moortkinod. Tho b«tt«r-cl*H tchooli »r«
wi»4Mrtid by toMbon »t tboir own rUk, but «rm
thoM M« Ml potmittod without tbo wnolion of tht
bowii. Tko noit oUm mo tho Tuitohon for tntdM-
man'* okildrtn, who pay » amall f«a; and banaath
thaaa an tba Arman or poor Kltooit, iu which tha in.
■Iraolion U wholly gratuUoua.

InthulHaUf and eoHmtreialiy tha Dutoh hara long
baan eaUbnuad: tha convenioii of a worthlaaa «•»•
marah to m fiKtila country >• aTidanoa of tha ona faa.
tura; tha astanaira potaaiaiont which thay at ona tiino
a^Joyod in both hemiapharaa ia proof of tha other. At
■raaaat thair eandition b tomawhat itationary; thair
immodarata aalf-aataam, tha tanaoity with which they
cUng to oftabliahad forma, and the tanlineai of the
national mind to oomprekand and adopt imjproTementa,
ha?ing thrown them lomawhat behind the a«^acent
countnaa, Tha nature of tkoir agricullural produce
haa baan alreatW adverted to; and the careful, clvunly
itylo in which ikey cultirota the toil and manage their
dairiaa, aa wall aa the manner in which they embank
and dnia their low ploti or poliUri, are Myond all
praiia. Tho,^M«HM, once a principal Murce of wealth,
nava greatly declined; and amuntrce, iu which the
Dutoh hare alwaya baan pre-eminent, though vaitly
infaiior to what it waa in tke aerenteenth aud part of
tba alghteantk centuriea, ia atill a chief aource of na-
tional wealth and employment, though likely again to
Miftr from the utter incapability of the country to
oolnpata in ataam-naTigation. Tho chief maniifaetiire*
are those of woollen in I^yden and Utrecht; lilka in
Utreckt, Haarlem, and Aiueterdam; cottona at Haar-
lem; tobacco- pipes at Oouda; aud paper, leather,
aumr*ra&Bing, pamten' coloun , and cordage, at rarious
other places. The distilling of gin is extensively con-
dueted at Schiedam; and uip-buildiag at the ports of
Rotterdam and Amsterdam.

Tha ffovsmsMNl, ainoe the establishment of peace in
1815, kaa been a constitutional hereditary monarchy.
The lagialative power is vested in the sovereign and
the Stataa-GanenI, which consists of two diambers —
the upper of iVom 40 to 60 members, elected for life by
the kmg; and tke lower of 116 deputies, chosen by the
people of the provinces every three years. Popula-
tion, a,4 14374; revenue, £5,822,000; national debt,
4101,462,000; army, 24,000; capital, Amsterdam, with
a population of 220,000.

The Belgic provinces, which
>utck provinces under the Span!

lELOIUM,

were united with the
Dutch provlnceis under tke Spanish dominions in 1548,
rontinued after the revolt or the former to belong to
Spain until 17 17, when they were ceded to Austria, and
were thence usuaJly termed the Austrian Netherlands.
During the usurpation of Napoleon, they were incor-
porated with Fiance ; but in 1815 they were separated
nom that kingdom, and united with the Dutch pro-
vineeo, to form the kinsdora of the Netherlands. Dif-
fering in religion ana .angut.;^, and finding their
Interests aa a munufactnrtng peipie not always coin-
ciding with those of the comm^.-^ial provinces of the
north, tke Belgians in 1880 secedcS from the Nethe. •
landish monarchv, declared thems^ivv ~n inder^^ident
state, and in 1831 modo choice o< a kii^g. F,ahf < uently
the limits of their tenitonr wer" datfirr*''';-! if the
Five Great Powers, and thu>^ .H .i^nl .^"i Belgium
became suMtrate kingdoms. S tiw'^^'jd Inh em lat. 49°

37' and 51* tV nortk, and long. 2* 37' and 6* wut, 11
is oonsaoueatly bounded on tba nortk by lloUsud ;
east by HhaBuk Prusakt ; south br France ; ami west
by the Orrraan Ocean. Area, 11 Jul square miles.

^NjMryMoKy, the noitkem and western provinces of
Belgium, in tbair flatness, fertility, dikes, and canals,
may be regarded aa a continuatian of Holland— witk
this diflbrenoe, that in no part does tke suriaoa ikll
beneatk tke level of tke tea. < Tka aoutk and east
provinoes have an oppcsli« character ; they are gena-
rollv more thinly peopled, lees cultivated, and eiubit
an IrreguUr hilly surikoa, with tracts of roarshv land
and estenoive forests. With the exception of these
hilly districts, and some light lundv soils in the nrti,
the whole territory proaesits a series of nearly 'errl
plains, traversed by numerous streams — tha affiisuts
of tke navigable rivers Mouse, Sambra, Dander, SckalJt,
Lys, 1(0. — deligktfUUv divrrsilked by woods, arable lands,
and meadows of brilliant verdure, enoloaed by hedge-
row trees, and thickly studded tkrougkout with towns
and villages.' The anlogitnJ formation of the flat dis-
trict is precisely similar to that of Holland ; but in the
hilly provinces of the south and east very profitable
developments of anthracite -coal, limestone, and red
sandstone overlie primary schists, and these again are
incumbent on porphyry, quarts, and vranite. The
chief mineral products of Liege, Namur, Hainault, and
Luxemburg are — coal, iron, lead, copper, and sine ;
besides which may be mentioned manganese, calamine,
alum, various kinds of stone, slate, marble, whet-hones,
and porcelain clay. Of the mineral ipringt arising Arom
these formations, the most celebrat«l are those of Spa
— whose waters are annually visited by thousands, atid
sent besides, in bottles, to all ports of Europe.

The elimat* resembles that of the south-east of Eng-
land, but is, on the whole, more humid aud t)>i table;
some districts, moreover, a* Flanders, being at ' rtain
seasons rendered unhealthy by noxious exLalations
from the water -courses and low polder lands. The
vegetation, both natural and cultivated, is precisely the
some OS that of Enslaud and the north of France.
The domesticated onimiJs, if we except the excellent
draught -horse of Flanders, ara decidedly inferior to
those of Holland and Germany.

The inAabitanlt are usual^ classed under two stocks
— the Gennanio and Grsaco- Latin. The former em>
braces tb<: Uelgians or Nctherlauders, speaking the
Flomisu Migue, and a small number of Oerman-Dutoh
in I'iiiilarg mid Luxemburg. To the latter belong the
VV'nl loons o*" the southern provinces, who speak the
Frfliich-Fleiuiiih and the Walloon — two uncouth primi-
tive dialects of the French language. All rtligion$ are
tolerated, but the Roman Catholic is that established
in connection with the state, adhered to by nineteen-
twentieths of the population, and administered by a
regular priesthood, including one archbishop, five
bishops, 165 cures, and not less than 4400 inferior
clergy. Until the revolution of 1830, the Belgic pro-
vinces, OS part of tke Netkerlonds kingdom, ei\joyed
the same ed«Mti(mal system as that described under
I Holland; but since that period » vast falling off is said
to hare token place, especially among the lowor orders,
in oonsequenoe of government havir ' r>r.:r! '*o<1 all
supervision and compulsion.

At presk. t, the in«hM(>y of Belgian' n h%^\\i'-t i' I'v
buted between agriculture, mining, <-«.. .-os;

and under a continued peace and 1I>/ .ui government,
bids fair to attain its ancient superiority. The Belgian
or Flemish system of agriculture ia well known over,
Europe for its minutf and careful management; and
no people understand better the method of collecting
and preparing every species of manure, without which
muclk of their sandy soil would be next to worthlessi
The JUhtritt, both inland and maritime, are rapidly
inoreasine, principally, however, under a system of
r < '.onol bounty; and mining is carried on in a regular
<jid efficient manner — that of coal employing al>out
. u.OOO hands, and the quantity of crude iron-ore raised
Lcing upwards of 10,000,000 tons. Th« most important

Dd 6* Mit, II

by llolUudi

M ; KRil MTttt

tra lailM.

provincM of
, Mid OMiali,
tlUiid— with

turCM* All
th iind Mat

ejr »r« Ml
and •sail

na-

bit

ion of th«t«
in tb« nrti,
nsikrlv '•rft

idw. 8oh«l J(,

UM)1« iMldl,

id by bodK*-
t with towns

the flat dii.
i ; but in the
ry profitable
me, and red
eie again are
nnite. The
[kinault, and
r, and lino ;
■e, calamine,
, whet-honei,
I ariaing Arom
thoM of Spa
DUiandf, and
ope.

-eaet of Eag-
Md Tenable;
igat t rtain

ezLolationi

landi. The
preciiely the
i of France,
he excellent

inferior to

on;

remment,

|e Belgian

j)wn OTer

|cut; and

ollectinc

it which

I'orthlen.

rapidly

litem of

.regular

^ about

le raised

IportAQt

fl(«OF«i>**'<'

tu mn ^ htru m»~-wooHw l , as at /nrieit, l<l«fe,
Palheni I carpets at Toumay ; linens at 81 NtekoUM,
Uhent, Termonde, ke.; cotton (oods, employing about
13:2,000 hands, at Ohent, Antwerp, MechMn, and (M
Nicholas; saperb laco at llrusseli oiirf Mechlin; ribbons
at Antwerp, Touniay, Ypren; hoiic ^^m ploying about
AO.OOO hands, in various placvi; m«ii«ll'trgy at Char>
leroi, jcc; steam-engines, tirearnin. aini n<iM<hinery at
Liege; hardwares and cutlery In v»rlini« Utoallti i; por-
celun at 8ept- Fontaines, RrussoJH, 'y\ ; v'*'"* at Namm ,
Lien, and Charlerol. The intcrnfti «^.w lunicatlon
of the country is carried on liy ineniis <>| (be Hrnrs
already noticed, a number of will Vept cnnnN, > >
waoadaraised roads, and a national » . m of railways.
The oo*«nimm(, as established in '\uM, Is a consti-
tutional, hereditary monarchy, Tested in the person
and family of liCopold, Prince of Maxe-Cnburg. The
legislative power is exercised collectivelv by the king,
senatu, and house of representatives — the members of
these chambers being elected by those oitisens who
pay not loss than twenty florins (33s. 3d. sterling) an>
nus)!y It direct taxes. The number of representatives
>u« I 1 to 4A,000 inhabitants; the senators half as
m»n< ai' the representatives. The former are elected
' <* ti , ears, one-half retiring every two years; the
la.i'. (ur eight years, one-half retiring every four years.
The d'lmbers assemble of their own right annually in
Novombor, but the king has the right of convoking,
adjnuming, or dissolving them at pleasure. The exe-
cutive is exercised by the sovereign, assisted by six
responsible ministers — namely, of police, of the interior,
foreign affWirs, public works, war, and finance. For
ttdmuiistrative purposes, the country is divided into
nine provinces, and these again into arrondissements,
communes, and cantons, aftor the inodol of France.
Population, 4,29n,5ti'2 ; revenue, £4,A20,000; debt,
£24,600,000; nrniy, 32,000; capital, Brussels, with a
population of 106,000.

DEnMARK.

This small but ancient kingdom occupies that penin-
sular and insular portion of Europe betwixt the Ger-
man Ocean and the entrance to the Baltic Sea ; and
lies between lat. 53° 28' and 57° 42' north, and long.
8° 10' and 12° 38' east. The territory consists of Jut-
land, or the kingdom of Denmark Proper, which in-
cludes Zealand, Funen, Laaland, Falster, Moen, Lange-
lond, Bomholm, and a number of smaller islands in
the Baltic; the. duchy of Slawidc, which comprises
some adjacent islands* on both coasts; and the duchies
of Hcittem and Laxtmbwrg, which the king represents
in the federative Diet of Qenuanv. The aggregate
area of the peninsula and islanos is estimated at
21,856 sauare miles.

SuperJiciaUy, both the peninsular and insular por-
tions Hi-o low and flat ; in many places rising little
above the sea, and requiring the protection of mounds
and dikes; and in no portion exceeding an altitude of
1000 feet. In Holoteiii, SleswiA, and the south of
Jutland, the soil is fnr the most part extremely fertile,
but little intorrupt»(l by manhoii, and only occasionally
light and sr.ndy \\\ the central districts. In the north
and west of Jutlaini, on the other hand, large sandy
tniuts ire prevalent, partially covered with bent, heath,
and juniper, and utterly unavailable for culture. The
■oil of tue islands is composed of calcareous sand and
clay, which, though inferior in point of fertility to the
meadows of Holatein, is, upon the whole, of average
quality. Tl»i whole country, like Holland, is of recent
marine forman^nsu a»d consequently presents no rocks
of economical valve.

The dimote, in conse^^uence »f the low-lying nature
of the land, and the ))i'uxiinity of the surrounding seas
to its moot central portidiis, \». <>u the whule, much
milder tho^ thie lath'^ te w<nild indioate. The distin-
guishing characteristic:! are humiitity nml chaugeublo-

* Tho rocky island of IIcliKolaml, :uHt >Iip iiviKhboiiring low-
lying sandy down, about SO miles flrom itM i:iuuth of thu Elbe,
b«long to Britain. Population, 8190.

n«M. Til* Mlgenoai v tat la mn Is tsv^ WMtyi i%m*
art now no fbnete, and what plMtatlons eilst, eentaiB
but an IndMbrmt growth of birek, alder, ask, and beaeh.
All the common gra«we, rye, wheal, oats, potatoes,
hemp, flax, an^ raiw-teed, aro raind in Denmark ; In
the duehlee, hope and tobaeco ; and In several of tho
islands art largo orehard- growths «t npplso, pearo,
chsrrlee, and haatl-nuts. The chanKteristU feataioa
in the domeotleated speoles aro— the heavy Holsloin
'>f <<ls of the horse and <ix ; herds of flne porkon ; and
potuiii' 'II greater alMuidonee, perhaps, than in any
otbor I .atry of Europe.

The ]i'^«plt, with the exception is Jews in Alton*
and <'oi>*"ihagen, are of Teutonic ui /in, but belong to
four dlm-n ct stocks— nam«ly, the I) wlic consti'

tute the majuti't nl^sMt Jutland, S iek, and tho
islands, and speak i mortorhiMMl furni ut ' old N'orto
languace ; the Otrmaiu in Holitein and luenburgi
the /"' ""IS in the Vtiidsof Hieswick; and itio An0&»
(a trill when* gi^ a the nanti' to Kngland), foui '
chiefly u I 'he Baltic nost of Hlenwlck. Lutheranisiii
is the esta <hed nligttm of the state, and is profkNid
by almost i. the people ; but the fullest toleration la
given to oil or creeds. ' RducatioH,' says Mr M -nil.
loch, • is very widely tlifl\i«ed, there being ver nw
persons, even amon;; the low i classes, who are ui bla
to read and write. HesidcN le universities of Copsn-'
hageu and Kiel, thi are frvinnasia orcolloges ut Mo W
and Altona, with j in ii> -suhools and aoideinies >n
all the considerable towns. Parochial schools, chietly
coiidueted on tlte I/>«ii' Mterian system, are aln>oft
everywhere establishi-l, here being upwards ef ' 00;
and hero, as in Prusi>'< tttendance at school is not
optional; for, by a latv :. .all children from tho ago
of 7 to 14 yours mnst att id some public sebool, and
if unable to pay, are edu( -ed at the public expense.'

IiuiuHrialijf, Denmark in toru an ogrioultunl than
a manufaeturiitg con try, h "i perhaps more pastoral
than agricultural, la embu king, draining, and the
preparation of pastures and eodows, the inhabitanto
of the ducbios show consideral ' skill— raising not only
abundance for home consumpti , but largo supplies fur
export. Th« fitheriet aro also considerable import-
ance—the principal being the . -rring-flshery off Jut-
land, and that of cod in the Noi h Sea. The govern-
ment hasaflbrded great encouragci i jent to ma!*^fae^urei;
but in no department (unlcu unde' tlie protection of ex-
orbitant duties) can the people ooni >elo with foreigners,
even in their own markets.

The ^i;«mmen( is a hereditary lonarchy, formerly
absolute; but in 1834 representative assemblies, with
a consulting voice, were instituted in each of tho four
principal divisions — namely, tho Ii>!ands, 70 reprs*
sentatives; Jutland, 51 ; Sleswick, 4 - ; Holstein, 48;
Lauenburgretainnigitsold constitutional diet. Popula-
tion, exclusive of Iceland and the Faroe (ales, 2,202,074;
revenue, £1,833,000; debt,£ll,')ni,00<>; army, 25,000.
Capital, Copenhagen, with 120,1 UO inhabitants.

Iceland and the FarOo Ialand«.

lerlnnd Is situated In tho Northern Ocean, Iwlwccn lat OJ*
and 66' 88' north, and long. 18* and 21° 31' w st, being obont
280 miles in Its greatest length, and SOO in its frreatest breadth.
Its area is estimated at 88,3M squaro miles ; popolatloa about
S0,OOO, of Scandinavian or Norse origin. Tho wiMla island Is of
volcanic fDrmalion, recent, or atill in prof^rees i and In aspeot is
rugged and barren in the extreme. Only ooa-ninth is haWtaUe,
the romaindor being covered with ioe-clad hills, called JOkuls
(highest 686.^ fuetl, or narrow valleys, rendered equally deaolato
by lava and .'shes cjoctod from numerous volcanoes— of which
Hocla ia tho ,iC8t known, though not tho most ilostructivo.
Besides those i vidences of subterranean heat, there are nume-
rous boiling springs (gcyaorsi, which tltfow up water and stoam
to a great licight, boga of boiling mud, and dense clouds of sul-
phureous steam and smoko issuing fTom many places. The
island, though merely touching tho Arctic Circle, is essentially
iwlar in its climate : trees aro stunted, and seldom riao aba\-o
10 fbot J the growth of com Is rarely If ever attempted j potatoes
liave been introduced with some auccess ; several kinds of culi-
nary vegetable arc raised, but, with tho exception of rod cabbago,

205

CHAMBBBS'S INTOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

few Mtftln porfcotion. Tlie in»ta li«nr»rt to h»y-the raaring of
cattla forming, with B.hlii«, the principal occupation of tho
people. Thtre ore no legular manufactures: stockings and mlt-
tans, however, knitted by the women, form articles of export ;
«8 do hIso wool, skins, dried flsh, oU. older-down, &c.

Tho Fartle Itkmdi, also In tho Northern Ocean, llo between
lat 81* SO- and 83* SC north, and long. 6' and 8* west ; about 188
mUes north-west of tho Shetland Islands, and 3S0 b. ith-cast of
Iceland. The group consists of 22 bold roclcy Isles, 1 of which
ore Inhabited) have nn aggregate area of 493 sqiiaro miles, and
a ScandUiavInn population of 7000. Tho surfiico of tho land con-
sists of a succession of hUls (tho highest S240 foot), with Inter-
vening stripes of valley, eovored with a thin soil, on which Is
grown potatoes, turnips, and occasional patches of barley ; hay,
as in Iceland, being the principal crop. Thero are no trees,
but there Is abundance of peat fbr fUel, as well as coal. The
wealth of the population arises chiefly fh>m shecp-rearlng, fish-
ing, and fowling.

SWEDEN.

This countrj occupies tlie eastern and more import-
ant section ct' tlie Scandinavian peninsula, and is
situated between lat. 55° 'JD' and 69° north, and long.
11° 10' and i^" 12' east. ]*' -extreme length is about
!)65 miles, and its average ^ eadth 1)18: the area,
^uclud' islands, is coinputec .t 170,220 square miles.

Phyt.-xiUy, the country presents several districts of
very difterent aspect ; the whole, however, declining
from the Kolen and Dofrino ranges towards the basin
of the Baltic. Starting with these, which have the
character of an irregular table-land, about 20 or 25
miles across, and only at intervals studded with moun-
tains of more than 5000 feet high, we find the gene-
ral elevation between 2000 and 2800 feet, covered with
straggling forests of pine and birch, and intersected
by narrow valleys, whose depressions are occupied by
lakes and torrents. From tnis tract the country de-
scends by steps or plateaux — the first being of no great
breadth, and from 700 to 800 feet above the sea; the
second about 280 feet high, and more than 40 miles in
breadth; the third from 90 to 110 feet; and lastly, a
fringe of inconsiderable elevation above the Baltic.
Throughout the whole of these, the rivers which rise
in the mountain plateau hold on their course, present-
ing numerous rapids and waterfalls ; only a few of
them, as the Angermans, being navigable during the
two last stages of their descent. Such is the superficial
character of Nordland and part of Sweden Proper. As
we travel southwards through the latter territory, the
face of the country becomes flat, or only diversified by
the insignificant ridges which enclose the great lakes
Wener, Wetter, &o. South of the lakes, the greater
part of Gothland presents the same low and sandy
character as the opposite coast of Denmark, and evi-
dently belongs to the same recent marine formation.
The most important mineral products are — iron (the best
in Europe), copper, and lead in abundance ; cobalt,
zinc, antimony, gold and silver in minor quantities;
marble, porphyry, limestone, and potters' clay.

Respecting climate, Nordland, part of which lies within
the Arctic Circle, has from five to six months of winter;
snow and ice then covering the mountains and rivers,
and locking up the waters of the Gulf of Bothnia. On
the other hand, the summer is sudden and short, but
excessively warm; at midsummer, the sun never falls
beneath the horizon north of Tomea; and the crops of
oats and barley come to maturity in six or eight weeks.
In the central parts, winter lasts only about four
months, but is severe enough in most seasons to lock
up the Baltic; and in the southern level tracts, the
climate is very similar to that of northern Germany.

The vegetable productions, as might be expected from
the high latitude and natural poverty of the soil, are
bv no means abundant. In the forests, which cover
about 98,000 square miles, pines, firs, alders, and
birches are prevalent in the north; these, with oak,
elm, and ash in the central districts; and the beech,
chestnut, mulberry, ko. only in the south. Apples,
pears, and other garden fruits are grown in Gothland ;
the gooseberry family even within the Aictio Circle.
200.

The cultivated products consist chiefly of rye, barley,
oats, wheat, potatoes, peas, hemp and flax, buckwheat,
madder, hops, and woad in the south; but as we pro-
ceed northward, most of these disappear, and oats,
barley, maslin (a mixture of barley and oats), and po-
tatoes are alone cultivated — oats ripening so far as 68°
north, and a coarse variety of barley even to the limits
of the pine-woods in 69° 'id'. The principal wild am'-
maU are — the bear, wolf, wolverine, fox, lynx, badger,
otter, squirrel, lemming, and other small rodents;
with a few scattered members of the beaver family.
Game-birds are everywhere rife, from the partridge to
the capercailzie; rapacious species, as the golden-eagle,
sea-eagle, homed and snowy owl, are also frequent;
and aquatic birds, as the swan, geese, and a variety of
ducks, appear in great abundance, either permanently
or migrant. Seals and porpoises are found in the
Baltic, whose waters also furnish plentiful supplies
of cod, sole, turbot, pilchard, herring, stremming,
mackerel, oysters, &c.; while in the rivers and lakes
are sturgeon, salmon, trout, pike, and perch.

The inhabitants, with the exception of a few Finns
and Laplanders, are wholly of Gothic descent, speaking
a variety or dialect of the old Norse — the common root
of the Danish, Norwegian, and other tongues. The
religion of the state, and that to which almost the
whole population adhere, is the Lutheran, admini-
stered Dy 1 archbishop, 11 bishops, and about 3000
inferior clergy. All other creeds ar6 tolerated, but
none but Lutherans are eligible to any employment
under the state. The editcational institutions of the
country are of a superior description, and, like the
church, are upheld and supervised bv the state. There
are upwards of 3000 elementary schools; high-schools
or gymnasia in all the provincial capitals; and two
universities — namely, that of Upsala and Lund. At-
tendance at the primary schools is not compulsory;
but every adult must give proof of ability to read the
Scriptures before he can exercise any act of majority.

Industrially, the Swedes are a busy, hardy, clear-
headed, and progressive people. Of late yeors govern-
ment has given great encouragement to agriculture, and
the spirit being participated by the landholders, a very
perceptible improvement has taken place — so much so,
indeed, that from requiring imports of com in 1826,
Sweden is now a corn-exporting country. The fisheries
— principally in herring, stremming, salmon, white flsh,
and lobster — are extensively and profitably conducted;
and mining, especially in iron and copper, employs a
considerable number of hands — about 90,000 tons of
bar-iron being produced annually, and not less than
800 tons of copper. The manufactures are chiefly-
domestic, the peasantry supplying themselves, as win-
ter employment, with nearly all the coarse woollens,
linens, and cottons they require. There are, however,
some cloth factories, sugar refineries, distilleries, leather,
paper, soap, and glass-works in the larger towns.

The gotemment is a limited monarchy, hereditary in
the male line, and restricted to the Lutheran creed.
The legislative power is vested in the king and repre-
sentative Diet, consisting of four chambers — namely,
nobles, clergy, burghers, and peasantry. The exe-
cutive is managed by the king and a state council.

NORWAY.

Norway occupies the western section of the Scan-
dinavian peninsula; extends from lat. 58° to 71° 10'
north, and from long. 5° to 31° east; and is bounded
on the west and north by the Northern Ocean, east by
Russian Lapland and Sweden, and south by the Skager
Ruck. Its greatest length is upwards of 1100 miles,
and average breadth 50; area 134,300 sq. miles.

The general aspect of the country is bleak, rugged,
and sterile; the shores are rocky and precipitous, and
on the west fenced by numerous small islands, and in-
dented by fiords. The interior consists chiefly of tho
mountain masses of the Kolen and Dofrefalds; rising
in the north almost from the water's edge, and in the
south spread out in plateaux or Jjelds, intersected by

)f Tje, barlejr,
.z, buckwheat,
)ut M we pro-
ax, and oata,
oats), and po-
g 10 far aa 68°
a to the limits
lipal wild ani-
, lynx, badger,
nail rodents;
beaver family.
e partridge to
) golden -eagle,
also frequent;
id a rariety of
r permanently
found in the
itiful supplies
g, stremming,
'ers and lakes
irch.

if a few Finns
iccnt, speaking
a common root
;ongaes. The
;h almost the
eran, admini-
d about 3000
tolerated, but
y employment
tutions of the
and, like the
3 state. There
9; high-schools
itals; and two
id Lund. At-
it Compulsory;
ity to read the
; of majority,
hardy, clear-
years govern-
iculture, and
lOlders, a very
so much 80,
lom in 1826,
The fitheries
[on, white fish,
ly conducted ;
r, employs a
,000 tons of
lot less than
are chiefly
ilres, as win-
le woollens,
.re, however,
ries, leather,
owns.

ereditary in

leran creed.

and reprc-

namely,

The exe-

uncil.

the Scan-
1 to 71' 10'
Is bounded
in, east by
Ihe Skager
1 100 miles,
lies.

Ik, rugged,
litous, and
Is, and in-

|fly of the
Is; rising

lid in the

pected by

EUBOFE.

narrow valleys susceptible of a scanty culture, or by
steep ravines, down which impetuous rivers cleave their
way by rapids and waterfalls. The lowest tracts, and
those to which cultivation is chiefly limited, occur
round Christiana fiord, and the adjoining shores of the
Skager Rack, or to the south and east of the Bay of
Trondheim. The geology of the country is primary,
and yields, like the contiguous parts of Sweden, iron,
copper, cobalt, zinc, marble, and slate.

The climate of a region, a large portion of which lies
wivhin the Arctic Circle, cannot of course be brought
under one general description. Suflice it to say that it
is milder, but more variable than that of Sweden under
the same parallels. At Christiana, winter lasts from
the middle of September to the middle of May, and
Bummer is short and warm ; in Lapland, winter endures
from August till May, and for many weeks the sun is
invisible (the aurora borealis and stars being the only
natural lights) ; while summer is short and fervid, the
sun never sinking beneath the horizon.

The inhabitanli, with the exception of the Lap-
landers, are members of the Teutonic race, and imme-
diately descended from the old Scandinavian Norse-
men — a dialect of whose language they employ. In
religion they are Lutherans; but all other sects are
tolerated save Jews, who are prohibited from settling
in the country. In educational matters, Norway is in-
debted to her former connection with Denmark; in
every parish there is a school for elementary instruc-
tion, academies oF laerde-skolet in thirteen of the prin-
cipal towns, and a university in the capital.

The industry of Norway is chiefly limited to her
foreitt, which yield excellent timber, bark, and tar; to
hei litheriei of cod, lubfish, herrings, lobsters, salmon,
anchovies, &c.; to her mines and foundries of iron,
copper, and cobalt; and to shipping (2280 vessels, navi-
gated by 11,400 men), much of which is employed iu
the carrying-trade of other countries. Agriculture is
in a very rude and primitive state; and the manufac-
tures are almost wholly domestic.

With respect togovotiment, Norway was an appanage
of the Danish crown until 1814, when, by the conven-
tion of Kiel, it was placed under that of Sweden. It
still, however, retains its ovm representative body or
atorthinfi (which is essentially democratic) ; and is, in
reality, no more connected with Swedish rule than
Hanover was formerly with Britain. The executive is
vested in a viceroy and council at Christiana; and for
administration, the country is divided into 5 dioceses,
and these again into 17 amis or provinces. Aggregate
population of Norway and Sweden, 4,306,600; revenue,
£165,600; debt, £651,000; army, 50,000.

PRUSSIA,

This is one of the great European powers, occupying
a large portion of northern and western Germany, part
of what was formerly Poland, some detached patches in
middle Germany, and to these may be added the Swiss
canton of Neufchatel, which acknowledges the sove-
reignty of the Prussian king. The country has thus
an extensive and heterogeneous frontier, which weakens,
or at all events keeps in check, that power which, in
less than a century, added to the original duchy of
Brandenburg the above-mentioned territories, and rose
to the position of a first-rate kingdom. Its area, ex-
clusive of Neufchatel, is 107,842 square lailes.

Its physical aspect, geology, climate, vegetation, and
animal productions, are identical with those described
under the north and west of Germany; the surface
being generally level, with the exception of the hilly,
mineral districts of Saxony and Silesia; the soil sandy,
and often covered with heaths ; defaced by large bogs
and morasses, particularly in the north-east ; present-
ing in most districts extensive forests of fir; and only
fenerally fertile in Saxony and the Rhenish provinces,
'he chief hydrographical features not already adverted
to are — the Oder, with its large tributaries the Neisse,
Spree, Waftha, and Netz ; portions of the Russian
rivers Vistula and Niemen; the cariout Aa^, or fresh-

water lagoons, which communicate with the Baltic by
navigable openings; and the celebrated thermal springs
of Aix-la-Chapelle (143°).

The peopfg of Prussia belong principally to the
great Germanic and Sclavonic families — the Poles in
Pozen, West Prussia, kc. belonging to the latter, and
the bulk of the inhabitants in the other provinces
to the former. German is the language of the court,
as well as of the better-informed classes in all the
provinces. The Lithuanians in East Prussia, the
Vandals in Pomerania, and the Jews in the principal
cities, do not exceed perhaps 250,000. With regard to
religion, all sects and creeds enjoy the amplest liberty;
nearly three-fifths professing the evangelical faith,
two-fifths that of the Roman Catholic, the fraction
being Jews, Mennonites, Rationalists, &c. * In no
other country is the si/stem of education so complete;
and in none is the instruction of all classes so carefully
provided for. The law imposes upon parents the strict
obligation of sending their children to school, unless
they can prove that they are giving them a proper
education at home; and care is everywhere taken to
furnish the poor with the means of complying with this
law, by providing their children with the things neces-
sary, and even with clothes. Every parish is bound to
have an elementary school, and every town one burgh-
school or more, according to the population. Above
these are gymnasiums, and in these institutions classical
learning is pursued preparatory to admission into the
universities, of which there are seven — in the cities of
Berlin, Breslau, Halle, Bonn, Konigsberg, Munster, and
Greifswald.' Besides these there are normal schools for
the training of teachers, establishments for instruction
in particular arts, and collections of natural history,
philosophical apparatus, and public libraries, accessible
to any person who chooses to avail himself of their
assistance. The whole of this admirable system is
upheld partly by private fees, partly by the respective
towns and provinces, and partly by the stato ; the
whole being under the strict and unremitting sur-
veillance of government functionaries.

The national industry has been already detailed under
that of the German Confederation. Prussia, however,
is mainly an agricultural country — the Rhenish pro-
vinces. Saxony and Silesia, being as yet the only ma-
nufacturing districts. Internal communication is con-
ducted by means of several good lines of road; by the
great rivers, which are all less or more navigable; and
by the great German lines of railway.

Government, a hereditary monarchy, with a council of
state; and since 1824, provincial assemblies, to whom
laws are submitted for deliberation. For administra-
tive purposes, the country is divided into ten provinces,
which are subdivided into regencies, and these again
into circles. National debt about £22,515,000; revenue,
£8,650,000; expenditure, £8,700,000 ; standing army,
150,000 — the war complement, 337,000 men.

RUSSIA.

The Russian Empire comprises the whole northern
region of the eastern hemisphere, from the frontiers of
Prussia and the Baltic on the west to the Pacific on
the east; crosses Behring's Straits, and includes a por-
tion of North America in the western hemisphere;
together with a number of islands in the adjacent seas.
Much of this vast territory — which amounts to nearly
one-seventh of the terrestrial part of the globe — is,
however, uninhabited, and indeed unfit to l^so; the
greater portion rude and ungenial, and but thinly
tenanted by semi-barbarous tribes; and only that sec-
tion in central Europe entitled to be ranked with civi-
lised nations. European Russia, to which we now limit
our description, is bounded on the north by the Arctic
Ocean ; east by the Oural Mountains and the Caspian ;
south by the Caucasian range and the Black Sea; and
vrest by Turkey, Austria, Prussia, and the Baltic. The
area is estimated at 2,045,000 square miles.

SuperJidaUy, the territory may b« regarded as one
vast plain, with a slight elevation running diagonally

207

CHAUBBBS'S INFOIUfATIOK 70B THB PEOPLE.

aooM the interior, »nd forming the gmi water-shed
which diTerti the riren to the Arotie OoeMi on the one
hMtd, wad to the CMpi*n and BlMk SeM on the other.
If we exoeitt the OumliM Mountftins o« ite oMtem
border, Mid a hilly tract in the Crimea, there it no por-
tion of the country which riici more than 1100 feet
abore the aea, and that only near Valdai in the cen-
tral plateau. ' The northern section, which lenaibly
decline*,' aays a natire author, ' towards the White
and Frosen seas, is covered with vast forests, abounds
in marshes and lakes, and is but little fit for cultiva-
tion. The other, and more southerly portion of the
Jtlain, includes the whole district along the Wolga, as
ar as the sandy steppes or deserts between the Caspian
and the Sea of Azov, and constitutes the finest part of
Russia: generally, it has a fertile soil, tho arable and
pasture laud preponderating over the woods and
uianhes. That part of the country which extends to-
wards Voronej, Tambov, Ponzo, and Simbirsk, as far
as the deserts, is remarkable for the superior quality
of every kind of fruit and other produce. It has every-
where an excellent soil, consisting of black earth,
strongly impregnated with saltpetre. But the tract
which commences between the Sea of Azov una the
Caspian, and extends near the shores of the latter, and
between the Wolga and Oural, as far north as the
Samara, is little better than a desert> being level, dry,
high, barren, and full of salt lakes.'

The rock formaiim* of Russia present much less
variety than mij^t be expected from the extent of the
country, chiefly in consequence of the flat and unbroken
manner in which they lie. The chief economic mineral*
are — gold, platina, silver, lead, and copper from the
Oural; oopjperand tin in Finland; iron from the cen-
tral elevation of Valdai, &c.; coal in Poland, Toula,
and Ikatherinoslav, but of little importance; rock-salt
and brine -springs in Poland, Taurida, Perm, and
other places; lime, alabaster, gypsum, and amber.

The ^^nate of Russia is saia to be much colder than
tliat of other European countries in the same latitude;
and the farther we proceed eastward, the temperature
becomes still lower, in consequence of the uncultivated
state of the lurfacc, di*tanoe firora the tempering in-
iiueuoe* of the ocean, and the frequency of easterly
and northerly winds from the icy regions of the Arctic
Ooewi. In the northern section the winter is severe,
and lasts firom eight to nine mouths; all the rivers
and seas are frozen, and the ground deeply .covered
with snow : summer, on the other hand, is short and
hot ; and there is, conerally speaking, neither spring
uor autumn. In the central re^on winter is rlso
seven) but shorter; there is something like spring and
autumn, and summer is still warmer. In the south,
winter oontinues only for altout five months, freezing
the rivers and shores; and summer is often fervid and
oppressive. The provinces bordering on the Baltic
have a wet and variable climate, and this feature ex-
tends to the elevated tract which borders the upper
basin of the Wolga; but farther eastward, and in the
extreme north and south, tho atmosphere is clear and
dj^ — a circumstance which materially modifies the
effects of tho winter's cold.

The vejfetable and animal prodMCtlons present less
variety than might be expected from a region lying
between the 45th and 70th parallels. The most re-
inarkaHe feature in the former is the vast expanse of
forest growth, covering about two-fifths of the entire
superficies. A> already hinted, these are most exten-
sive iu the north and central regions, especially between
the 55th and b'Oth parallels, where it has been said
that a squirrel might travel between St Petersburg and
Moscow without touching the ground. Among the cul-
tivated plants we may notice rye all over the country,
barley to 67° north, oats to 62° north, wheat in the fer-
tile tracts along the southern rivers, millet along the
Don, hemp and flax in the west and centre, tobacix) in
the Ukraine, cranberries in the marshes of the north,
fruit ill the south-east, the vine in the i^.. 'nea and Cau-
casian proriuoet; and variously, potatoea, rape, rhubarb,

poppy, Jcc. The characteristic wild ainnuik
the polar bear, the bUck and brown bears of the forest,
the reindeer, elk, urns, wild horse of the Ukraine, wolf,
blue fox, lynx, beaTer, sable, ermine, lemming, fee.;
game, but not abondantiT; the sturgeon, salmon, trout,
carp, pike, mackerel, and a variety of other fishee in
the rivers; and the bee, whose honey and wax form
valuable products of consumption and export.

The population of the country, amoimting to
60,000,000, is composed of a vast variety of races, dif-
fering in language, roiigion, manners — ^irom the rudest
state of barbarism to the highest point of European
civilisation. Laying aside minor distinctions, they may
be classed under the following etocks; — ^The Sdavonk,
including the Russians Proper, tiie Poise, Bulgarians,
and Servians; the Finn* ot Finland, Lapland, and
Esthonia ; the LttHik tribes of the Baltic provinces ;
the Toorkeu of the Caucasus, Astrakhan, Kazan, the
Crimea, &c.; the DeuUeh or Qermmtu in lUga, Rsvel,
and St Petersburg; the GoAt, including the Swedes of
Finland ; and in lesser numbers Danes, Jews, Greeks,
French, and English. The settled inhabitants are
ranked in four classes — nobles, olei;gy, citizeM, and
peasants ; the peasants being eit^^er freemen with
limited privileges, or serfs belonging to the soil, and
transferable like any other species of property.

All forms of rd'^out fam are tolerated ; but that
of the orthodox Greek Church prevails, and is adhered
to by the Russians, Servians, Cossacks, &c. The Roman
Catholic faith is professed by the l^oles and Lithua-
nians; the Swedes, Danes, Finns, and most of the Ger-
mans are Lutherans ; Calvinism reckons but a small
number of Poles and Germans ; Islamism is the creed
of the Toorkee or Tartars ; and the Jews observe the
Mosaic ritual. Edveationaily, the country is in a very
depressed state, if we take into account onlr the pea-
sants and lower orders; but among the citizens and
higher classes there is a more general dissemination of
knowledge than is generally believed. According to
an educational scheme drawn out in 1802, somewhat
similar to that of Denmark, a certain number of uni-
versities, lyceums, and elementary schools were to be
erected, upheld, and conducted under government; but
only a few of these have a* yet beea established.

The indtutrial operatioiu of the country are as yet
conducted in a very primitive manner, and upon a
limited scale, considering the vastitude of the natural
resources. Agrietdture is in its first stage, and yet,
owing to the excellency of the soil and comparatively
small home demand, large supplies are annually ex-
ported. Of late years, maiti^vcturea, under high pro-
tective duties, have risen to some consideration, and
the country now possesses a number of establishments
for the preparation of woollen goods, silk, cotton, linen,
and metal wares. The chief seats of these are the
governments of Moscow, Novgorod, Vladimir, Saratov,
Toula, and St Petersburg. ' The Russians,' says Water-
stou, ' excel in the manufacture of leather ; and from
th'jir advantages in reepect to raw material, their canvas,
strong linens, cordage, felt, mats, potash, soap, candles,
caviar, and isin^las, are quite as good as those made
elsewhere ; but m all other branches their productions
cannot compete with those of Western Europe, espe-
cially Britain, as to finish, durability, and cheapness ;
and their existence is therefore dependent upon a pro-
hibitory system of export duties.'

The government i» an absolute hereditary monarchy;
all power emanates from the czar, emperor, or autocrat,
whose authority is withoutiimit or control. He is the
central point of the administration, the head of the
church as well as of the state, and to his decision, or
for his sanction, all important measures must be sub-
mitted. His authority is delegated to certain Iwards,
the members of which are of his own appointment; uid
to these respectively are committed the ordering and
execution of all legislative, judicial, civil, religious,
financial, and other afiairs. Population, 60,962,250;
revenue, £16,380,000; debt, £76,800,000; anny 500,000.
Ci^ital, St Petersbuis, with 476,000 inhabitants.

INIfM&

I of tho foreit,
Uknine, wolf,
leumiing, Ice.;
Mklinon, trout,
tther fishM in
wd wax fonu
port.

unounting to
r of i«CM, dif-
xaa the rudeit
I of European
kmiitheyiiMy
rhe Selawmic,
M, BulgariuiB,
Lftplaud, Mid
tie provinces ;
n, KaiMi, the
1 Kga, ReTel,
the Swedei of
Jewa, Greeki,
ihftbitantf ue
, citizeM, and
freemen with
I the (oil, and
perty.

ted ; but that
ind is adhered
'„ The Roman
I and Lithua-
ost of the Oer-
8 but a small
im is the creed
rs observe the
ry is in a very
only the pea-
e citizens and
ssemination of
According to
!02, somewhat
lumber of uni-
ils were to be
emment; but
lished.

try are as yet

and upon a

f the natural

jage, and yet,

imparatively

annually ex-

ler high pro-

'oration, and

itablishments

cotton, linen,

hese are the

imir, Saratov,

says AVater-

ir ; and from

their canvas,

«p, candles,

those made

productions

lurope, espe-

cheapness ;

upon a pro-

' monarchy;
I or autocrat,
He is the
Ihead of the
decision, or
liust be sub-
boards,
[itment; uid
lering and
ji, religious,
[60,362,250;
ny 500,000.
lanta.

ENGLAND AND WALES.

England and the principality of Wales, which we sbail
treat aa one incorporated country under the former of
these names, occupy the most southerly, and at the
same time the largest and most fertile, portion of Great
Britain — an island, the position of which is at once
favourable tc commerce, to security, and to national
independence. Placed in a medium latitude, it is
further preierved by the surrounding ocean from those
extremes of heat, and cold, and aridity, to which con-
tinental countries, both iu higher and lower parallels,
are frequently subjected. England, then, is bounded
on the north by Scotland, from which it is chiefly
separated by the Solway Firth and the C'hoviot hills ;
on the «!t!t by the German Ocean; on the south by
the Enslish Channel; and on the west by St George's
Channel and the Irish Sea. The space thus included
is rather irregular . in form, and lies between lat.
49° 57' and 55° 45' north, and between long. 6° 41'
west, and 1° 46' east. Measuring along the second
meridian, from St Alban's Head on the south to Ber-
' wick on the north, its length is 362 miles; its breadth,
from Land's End to North Foreland in Kent, 330
miles; from St David's Head in Pembroke to Lowes-
toft in Suffolk, 300; from Lancaster Bay to Bridlington
Bay in Yorkshire, 110; and from the Solway Firth
to Tynemouth, only 64 miles. Its area is estimated
at 57,812 square miles, or nearly 37,000,000 acres, of
which 5,200,000 belong to Wales.

SUPERFICIAL FEATURES.

The superficial features of England, though not de-
void of variety and picturesque Deauty, are, upon the
whole, leas diversified than those of Scotland and
Ireland. Generally speaking, its western side — from
Cumberland and Westmoreland, southwards through
Wales, into Devon and Cornwall — is hilly or moun-
tainous; while the eastern side, sloping from these
heights down to the German Ocean (as evidenced by
the direction of the principal rivers), ia of an undulat-
ing, flat, and sometimes monotonous character. The
chief mountain. ranges which give character to the
country have been classed under three heads : — I. The
Ifcvonian Range, stretching from Gloucester, through
No. 64.

Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, and terminating in
the promontory of the Land's End — the highest point
of which is Cawsand Beacou in Devon, 1792 feet; 2.
The Cambrian Eangt, extending from the Bristol Chan-
nel, through Wales, the culminating point of which is
Snowdon, 3571 feet; 3. The Northtm or Cumbrian
Range, stretching from Derbyahire, through Cumber-
land, and passing into Scotland, whose loftiest peak is
Skafell in Cumberland, 3166 feet. In the central
and eastern parts of the country (south of Yorkshire)
there are a few ill-defined ranges of swelling eminences;
but none which exceed 1020 feet. The chalk-bills or
Downs of southern England are inconsiderable emi-
nences, radiating in different directions from the table-
land of Salisbury Plain in Ha:ap8hire, the highest
point of which is only 1001 feet. Besides Snowdon
and Skafell, the principal heighta in England are
David (3427 feet), and Llewellan (3469), both in Walea;
Skeddaw (3022), and Saddleback (2787), in Cumber-
land; and Helvellyn (3055), in Westmoreland.

In contradistinction to these mountain-ranges are ihe
moors, valea.marahea, and other level tracta, which con-
stitute no inconsiderable portion of the surface. Thd
principal moorUmd* are those of Northumberland, ex-
tensive, open, solitary wastes, producing little except
heath, at an elevation of from 500 to 1000 feet above
the Sou; tho moors of Durham, in the Lead-Mine«
district; those of Cumberland and Westmoreland,
inseparably blended with the mountains of those
counties; those of Yorkshire, forming a wide elevated
tract, ungenial in soil and climate; those of Staflfbrd-
shire, at an elevation between 500 and 1154 feet;
Dartmoor in Devonahire, covering upwards of 240,000
acres, at a mean elevation of 1700 feet, and of extreme^
ruggedness ; Exmoor, partly in Devon, and partly in
Somerset, conaiating of 20,000 acrea, for the most pari)
bleak, waste, and irreclaimable ; and the heathy up-
lands of Surrey, Hunts, and Dorset.

The valei or cUiUs, traversed generally by the rivers,
form an important feature in the geography of Eng-
land; their verdure, shelter, and fertility being UA-'
surpassed by any other portion of Europe. The
principal are — the Vale of York, about 60 milea in
length, and of variable breadth, occupjring an area of
640,000 acres; HoldemcHS, lying between the Humber
and the sea, in the south-eastern part of Yorkshire,
270,000 acres; the vale in which' Carlisle ia situated,
300,000 acres; the Vale of the Severn, extending through
Gloucester and Worcester for nearly 40 miles; the Vale
of Exeter, 128,000 acres; the Vale of Taunton, 64,000;
the Weaiia of Southern England; and the minor dales
of the Tyne, Wear, and Tees. The low marshy district
called the Fens, lying around the Wash, principiJly in
Cambridge and Lincoln, but partly also in Northamp-
ton, Norfolk, Suffolk, &c. forma a level tract of not
leaa than 500,000 acrea — apparently of recent elevation
above the waters of the German Ocean. For the last
two centuries much engineering skill and capital have
been expended on the drainage and reclaiming of these
fena, and the result has been the acquirement of ex-
tensive tracts of the richest and most fertile alluvium.
Of the surface thus described, probably not above
one-ninth (Wales being included) is unsusceptible of
tillage, or at least of profitable improvement.

OEOLOOICAL STRUCTURE.

Geologically, England exhibits traces of every forma-
tion; its western or hilly region being chiefly stanitio
and primary, and serving as a basis v>t the other for-
mations, which take on in succession, till we reach the
chalk and tertiary beds in the south-eastern portion.
The range or strike of these formations is in a north

209

OHAMBEBB'B nrFOBHAVION FOB THB PEOPLE.

ud Mvth direction, aoOuAm gwdogioa 11119 «zUbitii
them (not tftking minor intwrraptioni into account)
like 10 many loncTtudinal bandi oTerlapping eMh other,
from the lUtee of ComwaU ud Wiiiu, to the chaUu
and tertiary clayi of Kent and Middleiex. Theie for-
mation! difplay moit of the lubordinate groupi of the
geologist (lee No. 2), with all their characteriatio animal
and TCgetaUe remaine in mat perfection.

Thuf, in Cornwall and Deron eminecoet of granite,
Mipentine, and porphyry occur, while the slopes rest-
ing on them are composed of difierent kinds of slate.
The granite of this district is extensively used for par-
ing in London, though considered less hsra and durable
than that brought m>m Scotland. The Welsh moun-
tains are composed chieflv of varieties of slate, with
■ome intermixture of volcanic rocks, as basalt and
trap ; wliile a rich coal-field, 100 miles in length, and
from five to ten in breadth, rests upon their southern
verge, extending from Olamortnan into Pembrokeshire,
being the largest coal-field m Great Britain. The
northern range of mountains is also chiefly composed
of slate rocks, there being only one mountain of granite
near Shap in Westmoreland. Between these ranges of
mountains, and a line drawn from Exmouth, tlubugh
Bath, Gloucester, Leicester, Nottingliam, and Tadcaster,
to Stockton-upon-Tees, the surface is composed of the
lower secondarjr strava, including rich beds of coal, the
existence of which in this situation is mainly what has
enabled England to become the first manufacturing
ooontiv in the world. The eastern parts of the coun-
ties of Durham and Northumberland, from the Tees
northward to Berwick, form a peculiarly valuable coal-
field, of numerous beds, from which the metropolis and
other cities in the east of England and elsewhere are
supplied with this important mineral. Another coal-
field of great value, and that upon which the manufac-
tures of Manchester depend, extends northwards from
Macclesfield to Oldham, and thence westwards to
Prescot near Liverpool. A coal-field near Wolver-
hampton, in StaflTordshire, is the most valuable in the
centre of England : upon it depend the extensive me-
tallic manufactures of Birmingnam.

To the east of the line drawn from Exmouth to Bath,
and thence by Gloucester, Leicester, and Tadcaster, to
Stockton-upon-Tees, we find the upper rocks of the
secondary formation, presenting in succession red sand-
stone and red marl, lias limestone and clay, oolitic
limestone, green sand with clay, and finally chalk.
Connected with the red marl, vast masses of rock-salt
are found; these are extensively dug in Cheshire and
Worcestershire for domestic use. Lias, which extends
from Lyme in Dorsetshire to Whitby in Yorkshire, is
remarkable for the remains which it presents of the
large saurian reptiles. Beds of oolitic limestone cover
the southern pajrt of Gloucestershire, and a great part
of Oxfordshire, Northamptonshire, Rutlandshire, and
the eastern side of Lincolnshire. The chalk exists
everywhere to the south-eaat of a line commencing near
Dordiester, on the south coast, and passing through
Wilts, Berks, Norfolk, and so on to Flamborough Head
— excepting in Sussex and Kent, where it has been
carried off by denudation, exposing a peculiar formation
called the toadden, and in the l)ed of the Thames near
London, and one or two other places, where tertiary
beds of day occur. To sum up— the economic mineral
prodvee of England consista chiefly of granite, roofing-
slate, limestone, some marble, coal, both bituminous
and anthracite, building-stones of various kinds, rock-
salt, alum, potters' clay, fullers' earth, and siliceous
sands; the metallio of copper, tin, lead, silver, zinc,
manganese, iron, antimony, arsenic, and plumbago.
The main depositories of the metals are the hiila of
Cornwall, Devon, Wales, and Cumberland. Iron, as a
clay carbonate, u chiefly obtained from the shales of
the coal-measures. The principal oor.l-fields are those
of Durham and Northumberland, Lancaster, Stafli»d,
and South Wales. Rook-salt uid brine ipringt are
foood only in Cheahirt and Woroeeter; uid plumbago
tinuak wlelj ia Bonowd«l*, Cumbwlaod.
910

HTOBOOBAPHT, &C.

The gulfg, bant, ttraiu, and other anni and Indeita-
tloni of th« oceans whidi surround Engluid are, with
one or two exceptions, of limited dimensions. On the
east coast are — the estuary of the Humber, reoeiving
the waters of several rivers; the Wash, a large shallow
inlet full of sandbanks and mud-shoals; Harwich Har-
bour; Blackwater Bar; and the estuary of the Thames,
also incumbered with numerous intricate shoals and
sandbanks. On the south are — the irrwular expanse
formed by the Solent and Spithead roads, and South-
ampton water, the last of wuch i^s inland for ten or
twelve miles, and is navvable to ita extremity; Ply-
mouth Sound, celebrated mr the stupendous breakwater
which protects its wator from the swell of the Atlantic;
Falmouth Harbour, and Mounts Bay, so called ftom
St Michael's Mount, a curious insulated rook a little
ofi" the mainland. On the west are — Barnstaple Bay;
Bristol Channel, a deep gulf 25 miles wide at its
entrance, and about 8 where it joins the estuary uf
the Severn ; the bays of Swansea and Caenuarthen ;
Milford Haven, one of the safest and most capacious
harbours of England ; St Bride's Bay; the large i>ays of
Cardigan and Caernarvon ; the estuaries of the Dee,
Mersey, and Ribble; and Morecambe Bay, a large
inlet, so shallow that proposals were at one tbne made
to reclaim it from the sea. The straits are those of
Dover, 21 miles across, and about 17 fathoms at its
deepest part, supposed by geologists to be of recent
excavation — England before thi^ event having been
attached to the main continent ; and the Menai Strait,
separating the island of Anglesea from the mainland
of Wales, about 14 miles in len^h, and varying from
2 miles to 200 yards across. This strait is crossed by
a magnificent suspension-bridge, erected l^ Telford in
1826; and is now in course of being spanned by a sus-
pension railway-tube or tunnel of still more gigantic
proportions and curious construction.

The principal capes are Flamborough Head, Spurn
Head, North Foreland, and South Foreland on the
east; Dimgeness, Beachy Head, St Alban's Head, Port-
land Point, Start Point, Bolt Head, and Lizard Point
on the south; Land's Eiad, Hartland Point, St Goven's
Head, St David's Head, Stumble Head, Holyhead,
Ormes Head, and St Bee's Head on the west; and Air
Point in the Isle of Man. All of those mentioned on
the east and south, and the two last on the west, are
the sites of lighthouses, indispec-able to the safety of
the immense coasting trade of tho country.

The islands geographically connected with England
are, with one or two exceptions, small and unimportant.
OS the east coast are — Holy Isle or Lindisfame, con-
taining the remains of an abbey and cattle; the Fams,
a dangerous group of small rocky islets ; Foulness and
Sheemess at the entrance of the Thames; and the Ide
of Thanet, formed by two branches of the small river
Stour. Off the south coast — the large, beautiful, and
salubrious Isle of Wight, sometimes called * The Oar-
den of England ;' Purbeck and Portland Islands, noted
for their quarries ; the Eddystop rock, with its cele-
brated lighthouse ; and the Scilly Islands— a group
consisting of seventeen rocky islets, thirty miles west-
south-west from the Land's End. Ofi^ tne west coast
— the small islands of Lundy, Skomer, Bardsey, Holy-
head, and the Skerries; the large island of Anglesea;
and the Isle of Man, which, legiuatively and judicially,
forms a sort of independent territory. (For Jersey,
Quenisey, &c. see No. 63, p. 193.)

The lakes of England are few, and of very tiny dimen-
sions; the largest scarcely covering an area of four
square miles; but the beauty of their associated scenery
has conferred on them an almost universal reputation.
We refer to the lakes of Cumberland, Westmoreland,
and the north of Lancashire; the largest of which are
Winandermere, Ulleswater, Thirlmere, Denrentwater,
Bassenthwait<% Buttermere, and Cmmnookwater. These
lie amid the vales and r e ee si e s of the Cumbriaa range;
•ad it IB the combination of Alpine wildn«M and gtan.

a
I :

ENGLAND AND WALES.

imd indast**
uid are, with
>ni. On the
«r, teoeiTing
large shallow
larwioh Har-
'theThamef,
B ihoals and
wlar expanie
I, and Sottth-
Ad for ten or
iremity; Ply-
is breakwater
(he Atlantic;
called from
rock a little
nitaple Bay;
wide at its
le estuaiy uf
>Mnuarthen ;
ost capacious
large l>ays of
I of the Dee,
Bay, a large
ne tijne made
are those of
ithoms at its
be of recent
i baring been
Menai Strait,
the munland
varying from
; is crossed by
by Telford in
med by a sus-
more gigantic

Head, Spurn
iland on the

Head, Port-
Lizard Point
[t, St OoTen's
Holyhead,
'est; and Air

lentioned on
west, are
[the safety of

pth England
unimportant,
lisfame, con-
, the Fams,
toulness and
I and the Isle
1 small river
ftutiful, and
> The Oar-
ads, noted
X its cele-
-a group
Imiles west-
iwest coast
dsey, Holy-
r An^lesea;
Ijudicially,
Tor Jersey»

^inydimen-

of four

scenery

eputation.

tmoreland,

I which are

rentwater,

These

range;

ludgrao-

(

dear, with the loffc loenery which reposes in clothed
slope and mirror-like lake, which gives to the * Lake
District' its principal charm. (See p. 214.)

The principal riven ef England, beginning with
those fallinff into the German Ocean, are as follow : —
The Tyne, Wear, and Tees, all navigable to a certain
extent by means of steam-tugs, and forming valuable
channels of communication with the inland coal-flelds
of the district; the Humber, with iti larger tributaries
the Ouse, Wharfe, Aire, Calder, Dou, and Trent,
draining an immense trtuit of fertile country, and
navigable to a considerable distance by bar{^s; the
Witham, Welland, Nen, and Great Ouse, which fall
into the Wash, also navif^able to a great distance
inland; the Thamee, with its numerous small feeders,
the Charwell, Windrush, Kennet, fcc— the * Father of
English rivers,' navigable by ships of all burden up to
the docks of the metropolis; and the Medway, with its
open estuary, navigable by the largest vessels up to
dnatham. The largest failing into the Atlantic are
the Severn, with its affluents Wye, Teme, classic Avon,
and lower Avon, all forming valuable channels of com-
munication with the interior; the Dee, navigable to
Chester; the Mersey, the great outlet for the manu-
fiscturing districts of the west; the Ribble; and Eden.

Connected with these are many minor streams, which
contribute to the beauty and fertility of the country;
and also a number of springe, celebrated for their
mineral and medicinal properties. The principal of
these ate the salt springs of. Northwieh, Nantwicn, &c.
in Cheshire, and of Droitwich in Worcester, which
yield salt fai immense quantities; and the medicinal
wrings of Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham, Tunbridge Wells,
Epsom, Leamington, Matlock, Buxton, and Harrow-
gate. Some of the latter are thermal or hot springs —
as Bath, at a temperature of 114°; Buxton, 82"; Bristol,
74°; and Matlock, 68° Fahrenheit.

CLIMATE.

The climate of England, according to MaccuUoch,
< is chiefly characterise by the absence of extremes in
temperature, by humidity, and by almost incessant
variations withm a limited range; peculiarities ascrib-
able to the geographical position of the country, in
contiguity with an extensive continent on the one
hand, and a vast ocean on the other: the latter with
nearly the same temperature throughout the year, and
exertmg an equUising influence over the contiguous
atmosphere ; the other with a varying temperature,
above that of the ocean in summer, and lower during
the winter months. Hence the origin and direction
of the prevailing winds at different periods of the year,
according to whichever of those ^at surfaces exert
most rarefying power: those blowmg from the conti-
nent being comparatively dry, whilirt those from the
ocean, V/sing charged with its exhalations, bring the
chief part of the rain which descends, two-thirds of it
falling oil the west side of the country.' The arerase
temperature in winter is about 40° Fahrenheit ; in
summer the day temperature is generally about 60°,
very rarely 80°. The mean fall of rain for the whole
kingdom is about 36 inches; though in Cumberland,
for example, there is said to fall 60 inches, and in
the neighbourhood of London only 23. The prevailing
winds are from the south-west and west; the next in
order of frequency from the north-east.

Being more inclined to cold and humidity than that
of contmental countries under the same latitude, the
climate is more favourable to the growth than to the
ripening of vegetable productions. It is certainly not
unfavourable to either the physical or moral condition
of the people. Perhaps even its uncertainty has been
the subject of too mucn grumbling. On this point we
may adduce the cheerful opinion of Charles II., as re-
corded by Sir William Temple. ' I must needs,' says
Sir William, ' add one thin^ more in favour of our cli-
mate, which I heard the kmg say, and I thought new
and right, and truly like a kmg of England that loved
luid esteemed his own country: it was in reply to

some of the eompuy that wei* Nriling our cUma(e«
and extolling those of Italy and Spain, or a* least
of Franee. He said he thought that was the best
climate where he could be abroad in the air with plea-
sure, or at least wiUiout treuble and inoonTenienoe,
the most days of the year, and the most iioun of the
day; and this he thoMght he emdd be in Xngkmd mer*
than in any other eottntrp in Ewope.' Devonshire, and
some adjacent districts on the southern eoast, e^Joy •
temperature which in winter is, at an average, two,
three, four, and even in some instances five degreet
above the rest of the country; and these districts ai«
therefore recommended for the rcvidence of penona
affected by pulmonaiy disease.

BOTANY AND ZOOLOOT.

Though the native vegetation of the country nunr 1w
described as verdant and luxuriant, yet most of the
fruits, ornamental trees and shrubs, bread-corns, green-
crops and roots, are exotics which have become natu-
ralised by a long course of care and culture. Without
drawing any distinction, however, between what is in-
digenous and what of foreign importation, we may
enumerate the following as the most important of her
vegetable productions: — In some of the southern part*
the vine erows luxuriantly, but seldom brinn its fruit
to perfection; at ordinary elevations, and aU ever the
kingdom where suitable soil is to be found, the pear,
apple, medlar, cherry, gooseberry, currant, strawberry,
raspberry, and other fruits come to perfection ; and
the same may be said of the bread-corns — wheat, rye,
barley, and oats — of beans and pease, of the potato, hop,
turnip, carrot, beet, hemp, flax, rape, buckwheat, woad,
madder, teasel, the artificial grasses, and a vast variety
of useful and ornamental vegetable products. At ele-
vations under 700 feet or thereby; most of the timber
trees and ornamental shrubs — as the oak, beech, syca-
more, poplar, elm, ash, hornbeam, maple, lime, laurel,
laburnum, chestnut, yew, larch, and pine — attain a
profitable growth; up to 900 or 1000 feet, the ash, alder,
nawthom, and pine continue to thrive; but above that
height, the mountain ash, some of the smaller willows,
the cranberry, bilbeny, juniper, and heaths are the
only inhabitants. One peculiar feature in the vegeta-
tion of England is the royal forests, of which the New
(67,000 acres). Dean (23,000), Woolmer (6000), Whit-
tlebuiy (5400), Windsor (4400), Delamere (3800), and
Whichwood (3700), are the most extensive.

The zool&w of England, like that of all other hisUy-
civilised couiitries, is almost entirely limited to animals
which can be profitably domesticated. Confinine their
attention to the latest superficial deposits, geologists
have determined that at no very distant era the country
was peopled with elephants, hippopotami, the vrild
horse and ox, bears, hyenas, wolves, elks, the wild boar,
beavers, &c.; but these have now entirely disappeared,
partly from cosmical conditions, and partly throush
the agency of man. The existing quadrupeds in a wOd
state are the fox, badger, polecat, marten, otter, weasel,
stoat, hedgehog, mole, squirrel, hare, rabbit, a few spe-
cies of bat, and several species and varieties of the
rat or mouse family. The fallow-deer and roe exist
in a protected or half-wild state, as does also the urtur
or wild ox, still preserved as a curiosity in some of the
parks of the nobility. Of reptiks, there still exist the
adder, common snake, and blindworm, the frog, toad,
and lizard; but none, save the first, are at all veno-
mous. Of birds, there are an immense variety, partly
indigenous, and partly migratory visitants, jhe most
curious and valuable of these are the bustard, quail,
grouse; ptarmigan, partridge, pheasant, and blackcock;
the geese and ducks of the fens; the eu;le; the night-
ingale, which is seldom heard north or the Humber;
and the turtle-dove, a summer visitant of the southern
counties only. Of marine animaU, a few of the porpoise
family frequent the seas; the herring and mackerel ar«
caught chiefly on the east coast; the pilchard exclu-
sively on the south; cod, hs^dodc, whiting, ling, and
hake in various parts; oystas fattened pnndpiUly on

CHAUBEBS*S INFOBIIATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

th« MUth »nd louth-eMt ; the iwllop, cockle, pen-
winkle, limpet, &c. on rooky ihorei, wluch are aUo
frequented by the crab and lobrter. In MTeral of the
riven lalmon are found, though iomewhat icantily,
and iturgeon are occaaionally met with; but in luoit of
the freeh waten, ecl», dace, trout, bream, perch, pike,
and other fiihes are abundant.

Of the domesticated animals, England poBsesses
■ome flnt-rate varieties— as the racer, Cleveland bay,
Suffolk punch, and old English black of the hone;
the Hereford, Gloucester, and Teeswbter of the ox ; the
Leiceeter and South Down of the sheep ; and the
Berkshire and Rudgwick of the pip — all of which are
described at length in Nos. 37-40 inclusive.

PEOPLE — POPULATION.

Ethnologically, the constituent elements of the Eng-
lish population are to be traced in the history of the
country. The first inhabitants were Dritons, probably
a mixed Celtic race, and who, during the time of the

Cession of the country by the Romans, must have
me slightly changed by the admixture of that race.
Upon a scattered population of Romanised Britons
came the great wave of the Saxon invasion in the fifth
and sixth centuries. After this, the predominant ele-
ment of English society was undoubtedly Saxon, the
Norman Conquest only adding to it a Frenoh aristo-
crar/, which little afiected the great bulk of the popu-
lation. The English, therefore, exclusive of the Weldh,
who are Britons almost unchanged, may be regarded as
in the main a Teutonic people, an admixiu::o of British
entering into the composition always less and less as
we advance from Wales towards the eastern coasts,
where the people are nearly pure Saxon.

According to an acute writer in Blackwood's Maga-
zine for 1829, ' the Saxon Englishman is distinguished
from other races bv a stature rather low, owing chiefly
to the neck and limbs being short, by the trunk and
vital system being large, and the complexion, eyes,
and hair light; and by the face being broad, the fore-
head largo, and the upper and back part of the head
round, and rather small. In his walk, the English-
man rolls, as it were, on his centre. This is caused
by the breadth of the trunk and the comparative weak-
ness of the limbs. The broader muscles, therefore, of
the former, aid progression by a sort of rolling motion,
throwing forward first one side and then another.
, . , The mental faculties of the Englishman arc
not absolutely of the highest order ; but the absence
of passion gives them relatively a great increase, and
leaves a mental character equally remarkable for its
simplicity and its iractical worth. The most striking
of those points in English ch.arocter, which may be
called fundamental, are cool observation, unparalleled
tingle-mindedness, and patient perseverance. This cha-
racter is remarkably homogeneous.

The cool observation of the Englishman is the foun-
dation of some other subordinate, but yet important
points in his character. One of the most remarkable
of these is, that real curiosity, but absence of wonder,
which makes the nil admirari a maxim of English so-
ciety; it is greatly associated also with that reserve
for which the English are not less remarkable. The
single-mindedness of the Englishman is the foundation
of that sincerity and bluntness which are perhaps his
chief characteristics; which fit him so well fur >he busi-
ness of life, and on which his commercial character de-
pends; which make him hate (if he can hate anything)
all crookedness of procedure, and which alarm him
even at the insincerities and compliances of politeness.
The perseverance of the Englishman is the foundation
of that habitude which guides so many of his own
actions, and that custom in which he participates with
all his neighbours It is this which makes universal
cant, as it has been profanely termed, not reasoning,
the basil of his morals; and precedent, not justice, the
basis of his jurisprudence. But it is this also which,
when his rights are outraged, produces that grumbling
which, when distinctly heard, efiectually potects them;
^1«

and it is thii which oreAtei that puUlc ipirit, to which,
on great emergencies, he rises with «dl hit fellow*
countrymen, and in which he persists until its lesulti
astonish even the iiationi around him.

New a little reflection will show, that of the three
fundamental qualities I have mentioned, the first seem*
ing may easily be less amiable than the final result shall
be useful. To a stranger of differently -constructed
mind, the cold observation, and, in particular, the slow-
ness and reserve which must accompany it, may seem
unsociable; but they are inseparable ftom soch a con-
struction of mind, and thev indicate not pride, but that
respect for his feelings which the possessor thinks them
entitled to, and which he would not violate in others.
The dignity, therefore, which in this case the English-
man feels, is not hauteur ; and he is as rarely insolent
to those who are b^low, as he is timid and deferent to
those who are above him.

In regard to the absence of passion from the English
mind, it is this which forbids one to bo charmed with
music, to laugh at comedy, to cry at tragedy, to show
any symptom of joy or sorrow in the accidents of real
life; which has no accurate notion of grief or wretched-
ness, and cannot attach any sort of meaning to tho
word ecstacy; and which, for all these reasons, has a
perfect perception of whatever is ridiculous. Hence
it is, that in his domestic, his social, and his public
relations, it is perhaps less affection than duty that
guides the conduct of on Englishman; and if any one
question the moral grandeur which this sentiment may
attain, let him call to mind the example of it, which,
just before the victory of Trafalgar, was given by Nel-
son in the simple and sublime communication to his
fleet — " England expects every man to do his duty ! '•
Which is tne instance that equals this, even in the
forged records of Roman glory i Happily, too, the
excess of hatred is as little known to the Englishman
OS excess of love; and revenge is abhorrent to his na-
ture. Even in the pugilistic combat he shakes hands
with his antagonist before he begins ; he scorns to
strike him when he is down; and, whether vanquished
or victor, he leaves his antagonist neither cast down
nor triumphant. The extraordinary value of such a
character is obvious enough. British liberty and Bri-
tish commerce are its results: neither the Scottish nor
Irish mind would have attained them.'

In this sketch, though clever and forcible, some con-
spicuous features of the social character of the English
are overlooked. The domesticity of the Englishman's
mode of life is very remarkable, when taken in contrast
with the lounging, open-air existence of continental
nations. The Englishman delights in his home, and
spends much of his time in it— a result to which tho
nature of the climate undoubtedly contributes. He
appreciates his home very hichly, calls his house his
castle, and prides himself on its being inviolable even
by the emissaries of the law. The members of his
family, his wife, his sons and daughters, are taken along
by him in most of his recreations and pleasures. The
conjugal tie is deemed peculiarly sacred, insomuch that
the slightest dishonour offered to it is universally re-
sented. It cannot be said, however, that the affections
of kindred are much recognised in England beyond the
nearest class of relations. In all personal and -domestic
circumstances, the substantial is kept strong.;' in view,
even while the ostensible object is ornament. The
aristocratic institutions of the country have mixed, with
the sturdy independence of the English character, a
considerable reverence for external and accidental dis-
tinctions, and created a disposition, pervading almost
all classes, to hold forth appearances rather alwve than
below their means. For tne same reason, as well as
that abstract truths are nof readily apprehended by
the English intellect, there is a strong and general
disposition to cling to ancient practices and fonns in
both government and law.

The population of England in the time of the Plan-
tagenet sovereigns is believed to have been little nx.ro
than two millious. It has been estimated at 5,500,00Q

BNOLAKD AND WALES.

to whicb,
it fellow-
ta rwultt

the three
int Mem*
nult ihall
mitnicted
, the (low*
may Mem
iich a con-
e, but that
inks them
in otheri.
a EnglUh-
ly inwlent
leferent to

he Engliih
^nned with
iy, to »how
snts of rcttl
r wretchod-
liug to the
BonB, hat a
18. Hence
his public
duty that
if any one
timent way
if it, which,
Ten by Nel-
vtion to hi«
his dutg!"
even in the
ly, too, the
linglishman
t to his na-
hakes hands
le scorns to
vanquished
cast down
of such a
Ity and Dri-
Bcottiah nor

in view,
bnt. The
lixed, with
laractcr, a
lental dis-
tig almost
ov« than
well as
pnded by
general
I forms in

Lhe Plan.
Ittle nu/fu
p,SOO,OOQ

1)1 1666. Tlie progr«M dnring the greater part of the
•ightMDth centuiy was slow; the amount m 1760 is
supposed to have been about 6,500,000. In 1801, for
the firsl time, a regular census was taken ; and this
haa been repeated once in ten yean ever since, giving
the following results: —

1801, ■

• 8,87S,»80

1831, •

■ 13,8»4,£<9

1811,

■ 10,183,816

1841,

16,»0«,141

18», ■

• 11,978,819

The rapid advance of our population is placed in a
striking light, when we consider that, for the United
Kingdom, it is nearly a thousand per day. Within
the last fifteen years, emigration has been proceeding
on a scale of unprecedented magnitude; yet, even in
the years during which it has been most active, it has
not been suliicient to drain the country at one-third
of the rate at which its population has been increased
by new births. This rapid increaM of numbers clearly
shows that, whatever partial evils there may be in the
condition of the people, the country must upon the
whole have enjoyed, for nearly fifty years, a high de-
gree of prosperity; for it is quite insupposabie that,
with stationary resources, so many new mouths could
have been fed, unless there had been, what certainly
there has twt lieen, a large and general deterioration
in the style of living. It is to be remarked, however,
that an immigration to a great extent from Ireland
has been going on for upwards of twenty years, and
Uiat generally the Irish Mttlers continue in England
to live in a style little superior to that which they fol-
lowed in their own country. The increased population
has chiefly taken place <.n the manufacturing towns.
It is calculated, indeed, by Mr Macculloch, that nearly
a third of the people live in towns of above 10,000
inhabitants. Most of the large cities have experienced
a ra{>id advance of population within the last twenty
years. *It appears that, while during the ten years
ending vrith 1U40, the entire population increased at
the jrate of 14'4 per cent., that of the great towns in-
creoMd at the rate of 20*2 per cent. But if we com-
pare the population of 1831 with that of 1841 — deduct-
ing the population of the great towns as given above
at each of these periods — the ratio of the increase of
the rural population, including the smaller class of
towns, will be found to be 11*2 per cent., or 9 per cent,
under the increase of the great towns.' TheM facts
wrve to show that it is the development of the manu-
facturing, and not of the agricultural energies of the
country, which has mainly tended to augment the
population. [For further details respecting popula-
tion and vital statistics, see No. 62, p. l!)l,]

NATIONAL INDUSTRY.

In point of national industry England stands un-
rivalled by anv other country on the globe. Her agri-
ctJlure, though still more antiquated end less syste-
matic than that of Scotland, has recently made rapid
improvement ; and, under different methods of lease,
would soon attain a peifection worthy of her other in-
dustrial pursuits. As it is, about a third of the surface
is under average cultivation, yielding profitably the
ordinary white and gruen crops; a large proportion
under first-rate pasture for fattening and dairy pur-
poMs; and a considerable extent under nursery, fruit
and kitchen gardens, and pleasure-grounds. Alto-
gether, the total agricultural produce of England —
grain, green crops, live stock, dairy and other produce
—cannot fall little short of £140,000,000. Assuming
the entire area of England and Wales to be equal to
37,094,400 statute acres, it is estimated that 11,143,370
consist of arable fields and gardens ; 17,605,630 of
meadows, pastures, and marshes; 3,984,000 wastes
capable of improvement; and 4,361,400 incapable of
improvement. Thejitherie* carried on along the coasts
of England can scarcely be regarded as one of the great
sources of national wealth, although, on an aterage,
they give employment, at tea and on shore, to no fewer
than 14,000 hondf.

In turning indastnr this Motion of Brit«in hM long
stood unrivalled. The operations, particularly in coal,
iron, copper, tin, lead, and rock-salt, are conducted
upon the most extensive and efficient systenv; and
the produce so obtained constitutes not only an impor-
tant source of national riches, but has contributed in
a maiked degree to the advancement of the other arts
and manufactures. The annual mineral produce for
the last five or six years has been estimated as follows :
—About £10,000,000 from coals; £8,600,000 from iron;
£1,200,000 from copper; £920,000 from lead; £400,000
from salt; £390,000 from tin; £60,000 from manga-
nese; £35,000 from silver; £22,000 from alum; £8000
from zinc; £25,000 from the other metals — as anti-
mony, bismuth, arsenic, &c.; not taking into account
the value of the rocks used in building, paving, and
the like, nor the clay and sand uMd in the fabrication
of pottery, glass, brinks, tiles, &c.

With regard to the arts and manufactures, there is
scarcely a branch which is not less or more attempted :
wo can only enumerate the leoding departments: —
1. Soft fabrics, as cotton, valued at £30,000,000 annu-
ally; woollens, as cloths, carpets, hosiery, &c. about
one-fifth less; silk, at £12,000,000; linen employs
about 17,000 hands; lace, gloves, straw-plait, &c. un-
known ; paper, £1,500,000 ; leather manufactures,
£13,000,000; hats, £2,800,000. 2. Eardwartt, com-
prising all kinds of articles, * from the anchor of a
man-of-war to the most delicate furniture of a lady's
work-box.' Under this head rank steam-engines, gene-
ral machinery, clocks and watches, cutlery and tools,
jewellery and plate; and some idea of their value may
be formed from the fact, that the annual produce in
clocks and watches alone amounts to £17,000,000.
3, Chemical and fictile manufactures, the chief of which
are — glass, amounting in annual value to £2,000,000 ;
china and earthenware to £2,300,000; soap, alkalies,
dyes, &c. 4. Distilling, brewing, baking, and other
alimentary preparations. 5. Ship-buUding in wood and
iron, and the allied arts of masonry, joinery, &c.

The commerce of England is fully commensurate with
her manufacturing greatness; every sea is traversed by
her vessels, every land visited in March of new markets
and new objects of merchandise. Her merchant navy,
with that of the Channel Islands and Man, exceeds
16,000 vessels, with an aggregate tonnage of 2,000,000,
and carry upwards of 110,000 men. In 1843 there
were 546 steam-vessels belonging to England, with an
estimated tonnage of 72,024. The internal commu-'
nication of the country is carried on by means of 26,000
miles of well-macadamised turnpike-roads, which tra-
verse it in every direction; by canals, making an aggre-
gate length of 2200 miles; and by railways, of which
upwards of 4000 miles have been already laid down, or
are in course of completion. The value of railway in-
vestments in Great Britain have been estimated at
£200,000,000; mining companies, £10,000,000; gas
companies, £6,415,295; and assurance companies, at
£6,000,000.

GOVEUNMENT — ADHINISTaATION.

Respecting the political constitution, laws, religion,
and education of England, the reader is referred to our
article on the Constitution and Resources op the
British Empire, in which he will find those statistics
and details, any notice of which in tai? place would
lead only to unnecessary repetition, at the expense of
matter which cannot be elsewhere adverted to.

For administrative purposes, the country is divided
into fifty-two counties, forty of which form England
proper, and twelve belong to Wales. Most of these
are subdivided into hundreds; some into wards; York
into ridings and wapentakes; Kent into lathes; and
Sussex into rapes, which are again divided into hun-
dreds. Judicially, the whole n>rm 7 circuits; muni-
cipally, 25 cities and 172 boroughs; and ecclesiastically,
11,077 parishes. In the following table the counties
are arranged alphabetically, with their areas, their
population accoiding to the census of 1841, and the
' 213

CHAHBEBCra IinPOBlUnON rOB raE PfiOPLJL

«hiif or wtaij town } which, homrar, !■ not Always
(ha iugMt or mott populoui »—

OountlMk

Aoree.

Popubtlon.

Chief Town*.

Baditard. ' - - -

178,440
1M,8W

80,891
107,936

Beaumaris.
Bedford.

Bwki. ■ - - -

481 ,»W

161,147

Reading.

Breoknockf * -

4i«,t60

86,603

Brecon.

Buoktngham, ■ -

m,iio

188,983

Buckingham.

OMmuurthen, •

6t3,U0

106,326

Caormarthon.

OMnuurvon, • -

848,180

81,093

Caernarvon.

Ounbridge, - •

048,480

164,469

Cambridge.

Cardigan, - - -

431,000

68,766

Cardigan.

Chwhire, • • •

673,280

393,660

Cliestur.

Cornwall, - - -

8JI1,S00

341,279

Ijiunceston.

Cumberland,

974,780

178,038

Carlisle.

Denbigh, ■ - •

403,120

88,866

Denbigh.

Derby

6il,»iO

272,217

Derby.

Devon, . - - -

1,684,400

633,460

Ezvter.

Doraet, - - -

643,840

173,043

Dorclioatcr.

Durham, - • -

702,080

324,284

Durham.

Euex, . - - -

»81,120

341,979

Colchester.

runt, . . - -

lIM.lliO

66,919

Flint.

Glamorgan, - -

fi06,880

171,188

Cardiff.

Olouoester, ■ •

808,120

431,383

Gloucester.

HampRhire, - -

1,040,000

388,004

Winchester.

Heretird, - - -

033,320

113,878

Hereford.

Hertfind, • •

403,200

187,207

Hertford.

Huntingdon, - -

238,080

88,W9

Huntingdon.

Kent, - - - -

996,480

8(8,337

Maidstone.

lanoaahire, • -

1,130,240

1,667,034

Lancaster.

I«ioeBtar, - - •

S1S,840

218,867

Leicester.

liincoln, • • -

1,671,040

362,620

Lincoln.

Merioneth, • -

424,320

39,333

Dolgoliy.

Middleaex, - - -

180,480

1,876,636

London.

Monmouth, • •

317,440

134,383

Monmouth.

836,960

69,219

Montgomery.

Norfolk, • - ■

1,298,360

412,664

Norwich.

Northampton,

680,240

199,228

Northampton.

Northumberland,

1,197,440

280,278

Alnwick.

Nottingham, - -

833,680

849,910

Nottingham.

Oxford, - - •

483,840

161,643

Oxford.

Pembrdni, - - -

390,400

88,041

Pembroke.

Radnor, • - -

272,640

28,336

New Radnor.

Rutland, ■ - ■

98,360

81,302

Oakham.

Bhropshlrc, - -

859,820

839,048

Shrewsbury.

Bomeract, - - ■

1,082,800

438,982

Taunton.

BUfford, - - -

787,760

810,604

Stafford.

Suffolk, - ■ ■ .

969,600

818,073

Ipswich.

Surrey, - - -

483,760

882,678

Southwark.

Suiuez, • . . ■

938,240

299,783

Iawcs.

Warwick, - -

874,080

401,718

Worwick.

Westmoreland, -

487,680

66,484

Appleby.

WUte, - - -

874,880

288,733

Salisbury.

Worcester, • -

462,720

233,336

Worcester.

York, ....

8,738,040

1,891,480

York.

Total, ....

36,999.680

18,906,741

ifofe.— England derives its name from the Angkt, one of the
Bazoo tribes who settled in its southern districts about the
middle of the fifteenth oentnry. As might be expected ttom its
history, its topographical nomenclature is a compound of
British, Roman, Saxon, and Norman. The following prefixes
and afiftxes are of frequent occurrence : — Ton, town ; borough,
or bvry, town ; vUle, town ; bit or by, habitation ; ham, home or
dwelling ; itodt or How, reaidonoe ; thorpe, a number of dwell-
ings or village ; caer, fort or castle ; cotter or chttUr, fortified
camp; miniter, abbey ov church; llan, place of meeting or
church; ecele$, church; hUhe, port; don or iun, hill; pen,
height ; nctt, pnimontory ; fey or leigh, meadow plain ; bum,
atream or boundary ; abtr, confluence or mouth of a river ; ford,
fchallow portage ; %oieh, wick, bond of a river, or dwelling by.

REHABKABLE SCBNEBV — NATURAL CURIOSITIES.

Lake Scenery. — The south.west part of the county of
Cumberlaud and the north.west part of Westmoreland
comprehend a range of lofty mountains — Skiddaw,
Saddleback, Helrellyn, and some others of scarcely less
note — amidst which lie the lakes for which this district
of England has long been celebrated. The largest of
these are UUeswater, Thirlmere, Derwentwater, and
Bassenthwaite; but some of less size — as Buttermere,
Crumnockwater, Loweswater, Ennerdale, Wastwater,
and DeTock Lake — are scarcely less admired. The
Tales or passes amongst the hills likewise contain much
beautiful scenery of a wild character, although perhaps
only trarenod by a brawling mountMn lill. Aa airway

mentioned, it is the combination of alpine wildnesl
and grandeur, with the soft scenery which reposes in
clothed slope and mirror.likc lake at the bottoms of
the hills, that sives the Cumberland scenery its prin-
cipal charm. Ulleswater, which extends into West<
moreland, is thought to possess the gre a t e st beauty: it
is about 9 miles in length, but nowhere more than 1 in
breadth. Derwentwater (often termed Keswick Lake,
from its vicinity to the town of Keswick), which mea-
sures 3 miles in length by 1 i in breadth, is only infe-
rior to Ulleswater. Mrs Hadcliife, tho eminent noTe>
list, describes it as having peculiar charms, both from
beauty and wildness. ' The whole is seen at one glance,
expanding within an amphitheatre of mountains, rocky
but not vast, broken into many fantastic shapes. The
precipices seldom overhang the water, but are ranged
at some distance; and the shores swell with woody
eminences, or sink into green pastoral marnns. The
bosom of the lake is studded by several small but well-
wooded islands.'

Amongst the passes, that of Borrowdalo is the most
remarkable: it is a narrow chasm opening from the
centre of the amphitheatre which terminates the ex-
panse of Derwentwater, and traversed by the vehement
little stream of the same name. Near the entrance
of the pass is a detached mountain called Castle-Crag,
with a peaceful village reposing at its foot; and oppo-
site to Castle-Crag is the Bowdarstone, a huge mass of
rock, which has apparently fallen from the neighbouring
clifis, and round whose base the road is made to wind.
It is computed that this enormous boulder is not less
than 1800 tons in weijght.

The lake scenery of Cumberland has b^ its beauty
attracted a great number of permanent residents, whose
villas enter pleasingly into its landscapes, and amongst
whom the present age has seen several eminent literary
men — Southey, Wordsworth, &c. It also attracts an
immense number of tourists from all parts of the king-
dom. Thb district usually called the Lakes may be
said also to comprehend a small northern and nearly
detached portion of Lancashire, where Windermere and
Coniston Water are sheets rivalling in extent and beauty
those of Cumberland.

Derbyshire Peak Setnery. — The termination of the
great northern range in the north of Derbvshire, pre-
sents in that district a collection of rugged hills and
narrow valleys, amidst which some of the most roman-
tic scenery in England is to be found. A particular
portion of it, near the village of Castleton, is termed
the Peak Scenery, from a pwiicular eminence or peak
which attracts more than usual attention.

The Peak is approached through a rude and savage
pass named WinycUs (q. d. gates of the winds), flanked
with precipices 1000 feet high. It is a limestone moun-
tain, and perforated, as mountains of that kind of rock
often are, with an immense cave. On the top are
perched the remains of a castle, once the residence of
a family descended from William Peveril, a natural
son of the Conqueror, In the precipice below, above
600 feet from the top, is the entrance of the cave, a
flattish Gothic arch, 120 feet wide and 46 in height.
Within this arch the cavern recedes about 90 feet.
Here a company of twine-makers pursue their humble
trade. At the extremity of the first cave, which alone
enjoys any of the light of day, a low and narrow arch
leads into a spacious opening called ' The Bell-house,'
whence a path leads to the ' First Water.' This is a
lake 42 feet in breadth, passing below a massive arch
of rocks, in some places not more than 20 inches above
the surface of the water. Laying himself flat along the
bottom of a small canoe, the visitor with his guide shoots
through below the depending rocks into au opening 220
feet in length, 200 in breadth, and 121 in height. At
the farther extremity of this spacious cavern, the stream
which flows along the bottom forms itself into what is
called the ' Second Water,' near the end of which is
a pile of rocks subjected to a perpetual copious dripping
from the roof, and called * Roger Rain's House.' Other
passages and expansions succeed, till the cave ceases to

• 1

BNOLAKD AND WALES.

t wildntM
repoMi ilk

bottomi of
y iti prin-
mto WMt-
bMUity. it
B than 1 in
irick Lake,
rhich niea-
I only infe-
nent nove-
botli from
one glance,
taiui, rocky
lapei. The
are ranged
rith wooJy
rgini. The
llbutweU-

U the most
ig from the
^tei the ex-
le vehement
he entrance
Caitle-Crag,
• and oppo-
uge maaa of
leighbouring
ide to wind.
' if not leu

r ita beauty
denta, wboae
Mid amongst
aent literary

attracts au
of the king-
akei may be

and nearly
dermeie and
t and beauty

land savage
is), flanked
Itone moun-
liind of rock
Uie top are
lesidonce of
I, a natural
lelow, above
(the cave, a
in height.
Lit 90 feet.
Leir humble
Irhioh alone
liarrow arch
«U-house,'
This is a
live arch
Iches above
) along the
aide shoots
oening '220
[eight. At
■the stream
Ito what is
which ii
ks dripping
).' Other
I ceases to

be pMsabl* at the distanoc of 2300 feet from the open-
ing. On returning from his torch-lit adventure to the
mouth of the cave, the visitor usually experiences a
singular impreuion of novelty and delight from behold-
Ins again the surface of the daylight world.

The scenery a^acent to the neighbouring town of
Buxton is also much celebrated. One of the most
noted objects is Elden't Jloh, a perpendicular opening,
down which a line has been dropped to the extent of
2652 feet without finding the bottom. iWe'« Hole is
a cave remarkable for its magnificent stalactites. A
succession of beautiful valleys, situated amidst rugged
mountains, leads to the romantic one of Matlock, where
the banks of the Derwent are bordered by extensive
woods, interspersed with the boldest and most varied
forms of rock. Of a wilder character is the celebrated
Dwtdale, where the River Dove traverses a pass of 2
miles in length, and of the most striking character.
The sides of this short valley are chiefly composed of
rocks of gray limestone, which, in their abrupt and
towering ascent, assume innumerable fantastic forms —
spires, pyramids, &o. — and are clothed with yew-trees,
the mountain ash, and numerous mosses and lichens.

The Isle of Wight, situated off the coast of Hamp-
shire, and measuring 23 miles by about 13, is cele-
brated both for its ^ild climate and its beautiful
scenery. From the high open downs formed by a
range of chalk hills in its centre, some delightful
views, mingling the bold objects of the coast line with
the sail-studded English Channel, are obtained. The
south shore is the most noted for its romantic objects,
the most remarkable of which is at Undercliff. Here a
great chalk cliff has at one time been presented to the
sea; but, afterwards undermined by the action of the
waves, a large portion of it has fallen forward in vast
fragments, leaving a new cliff at the distance of about
half a mile from the shore. In the interval between
the beach and the cliff, the fragments are scattered in
confusion, many of them forming eminences of the most
picturesque forms, while the intermediate spaces afford
room for cottages and villas, and even at one place for
a small rising town, nestling amidst the most beautiful
shrubbery, natural and artificial. This district, when
viewed from the sea, appears a series of gigantic steps,
rising from the beach towards a great perpendicular
wall. The cliff in several places opens in vast ravines,
locally termed ehinu, which are usually clothed with a
picturesque vegetation, and the most admired of which
are those of Snanklin and Blackgang, Newport, the
capital, is situated in a beautiful valley in the interior,
adjoining the picturesque old castle of Carisbrooke. At
the western extremity of the island are the celebrated
Needlet, a cluster of chalk rocks raising their splinterv
and rugged peaks high above the waters which rush
and rolTin the dangerous passages that lie between.

Scenery of Wales and Cornwall. — Wales has already
been described as a mountainous region, the chief peaks
of which somewhat exceed 3000 feet in height. It is
visited by tourists from all parts of the kingdom, on
account of the picturesque scenery with which it
abounds, particularly in the northern district, or North
Wales, Its hollows or vales contain none of those
beautiful expanses of water which mix such softness
with the grandeur of the Cumbrian scenery, but are
traversed by impetuous rivers and torrents, according
with the precipitous and savage character of the land-
scape. The vales of North Wales ore deeper and nar-
rower than those of South Wales; these expand in
many instances into brood plains, affording scope for
the operations of the agriculturist, and for the build-
ing of towns and villages.

A range of hills, of which Snowdon is the highest,
traverses North Wales from south to north, terminat-
ing at Beaumaris Bay in the tremendous steep of Pen-
manmawr, whose hanging fragments threaten to bury
him who travels by the difficult path which has been
formed along its almost perpendicular sides. This
hilly district comprehends a few tarns, or mountain
lakelets, fiill of delicious fish. The general bleakness

is delightftiUy relieved by the intervening vales, the
largest of which is that of Clwyd in Denbighshire,
20 miles lone by about 4 or 5 in breadth, and pre-
senting a brilliant picture of fertility. Amongst the
lesser valea, the muet famed for beauty is that of lAan-
gMen, 'where the Dee. winding through cultivated
and pastoral scenes, \ ^uts at every step a varying
landscape.' Festiniog, rhich a number of streams
unite to form a little riv^., amidst verdant and wooded
scenes, is also celebrated by tourists.

Upon a hill north of Liskeard in Cornwall, the slopes
of which are strewed with granite boulders, stands the
curious pile called the Cheese Wrina, composed of five
flat round pieces of the same rock, laid one above
another, the largest towards the top, so that the whole
forms a kind of inverted cone, to the height of 15 feet.
Dr MaccuUoch, the eminent geologist, explains the
formation of this strange object as solely owing to
natural causes. Logging Stones, of which there are
several in the same county, are in like manner ex-
plained. The largest is one situated upon a cliffy
promontory near the Land's End. It is a mass 17 feet
in length, of irregular form, and believed to be about
90 tons in weight, resting by a slight protuberance upon
the upper sur&ce of the cliff, and so nicely poised, that
a push from the hand, or even the force of the wind,
causes it to vibrate. It appears that these logging
stones are simply prismatic masses of the rock, which
have been left in their present situation after adjoining
masses of a similar character had been removed.

ANTKIUITIES, &C

Perhaps the earliest objects of antiquity in England
are the barrows or tumuli with which the Britons, like
so many other uncivilised nations, were accustomed to
cover the remains of the dead. Several specimens of
these still exist, but many more have been destroyed
and levelled with the soil. Their construction, con-
tents, and^ther peculiarities are ^propriately noticed
under ARCH.EOLOur in No. 98.

Druidieal Semains rank perhaps next in point of
antiquity. The most simple of these are Cromlechs, of
which an unusual number is found in the island of
Anglesea, once the chief seat of the Druids, who were
the priests of British heathenism. A cromlech con-
sists of a large slab of stone, placed flatwise, or in a
sloping position, upon two upright ones. It seems to
have formed an altar for human sacrifices. Druidieal
circles are more complicated. They usually consist of
circles of huge stones placed on end, with m some in-
stances connected lines or rows of similar stones, the
whole forming objects at once rude and imposing. It
is believed that they were the temples of the Druids.
The most remarkable Druidieal circle is that of Abury,
six miles from Marlborough in Wiltshire: there is an
outer circle, 1400 feet in diameter, composed of stones
generally about 16 feet in height, with a distance of 27
between every two. There are small concentric circles
within the large one, and in the centre of all is a crom-
lech or altar for human sacrifices, composed of one long
flat stone, supported by two upright ones. Two straight
avenues of approach, about a mile in length, were com-
posed of similar blocks, and on the outside of the outer-
most circle there was a vallum or bank, the mwt slope
of which was perhaps a, place for spectators. From the
encroachments and carelessness of the neighbouring
inhabitants during a long course of ages, this curious
relic of the British people is much dilapidated. Another
Druidieal circle of great note is that of Stonehenge upon
Salisbury Plain, a district also presenting many tumuli
and other vestiges of the Britons. The Stonehenge
temple, in its perfection, consisted of 140 stones, ar-
ranged in two concentric circles, the outermost 108 feet
in diameter, with similar stones laid flatwise along the
tops of the upright stones. The blocks which remain
are from 18 to 20 feet high, and about 7 feet broad.
Within the inner circle are two oval ranges, supposed to
have formed the admytum or cell, and which consist of
stones about 30 feet in height. The remains of this

215

CHAMBEBS'S IKFOBUiTION FOB THE PEOPLE.

itopendoui temple, fragmonti m thejr are, •till produce
ft lenMtioii of uwe upon the mirnl of the beholdor.

Annan liemaini ui now rare, »ud iienrly obliterated.
Tike roadi fonned hy thii people Lave in loiae iiiitiiucee
been changed into our preiwnt comparatively broad and
well-formed wnyn; in other caiiei, ulight traces of thtir
original pavement, which gonerallv coiuiited of largo
■tonei forming a causeway, are to be found. Between
Newcastle and Carlisle are the remains of the two walls
built respectively by the Kniporors Adrian and Severus,
in r.!0 and 210, to keep out tho northern barbarians:
the first being a high mound of earth, and the second a
rampart of stone, Gili^ miles long, running parallel to
the first. All the towns, the names of which terminate
in Chester or cetler, are considered as having been ori-
ginally Roman stations. Near St Albaus are the re-
mains of the walls which once surrounded the Hoinun
town of VerukmiuiH, tho site of the town itself having
long been subjected to the plough. In making exca-
vations in Loudon and other places, remains of Roman
buildings — temples, baths, iii:, — are frequently brought
to light, proving, coutrury to nu atf'ected notion now
somewhat prevalent, that Roman .civiliaatiou had made
considerable progress in our island.

Several of the small churches built soon after the
introduction of Christianity still exist, and continue to
be used as parish churches. The larger churches con-
nected with monastic establishments, and the cathe-
drals, which were the seats of bishops, took their rise
at a later period, chiefly during tho twelfth and thir-
teenth centuries. This was a t'.me when an cntliusiosm
existed for founding and endowing monasteries and
churches. To it we are indebted for many superb
minsters, the solemn beauty of which continues to oe a
proud possession of our land. Westminster Abbey,
York Minster, and the cathedrals of Winchester, Liu-
coin, Gloucester, Canterbury, Lichfield, and Salisbury,
may be instanced as particularly aueust specimens of
the Gothic style in wliich all ecclesiastical structures
were then built. There are also many ruinous remains
of the great abbacies of the middle ages: those of Tin-
tern, near Monmouth; Glastonbury, near Wells; and
Bury St Edmund's, arc of famed Dcauty. A kindred
class of structures exist in what arc called crosses, which
consist generally of an elegant tapering Gothic erection,
with a small shriue beluw, and were in most iustauces
erected to hallow the spot on which the remains of
venerated persons rested on their way to the tomb.

Of the huge castles built by the Norman nobility
and by the sovereigns during tho first few centuries
after the Conquest, many specimens still exist, but
few which are not in ruins. The Tower of London,
built by the Conqueror himself, is an entire and most
superb example of this class of structures. Conway
and Caernarvon Castles, which, with several others,
were raised to overawe the then independent princi-
pality of Wales, are also noble specimens. Others may
be found in the north — as Lancaster, Carlisle, New-
castle, and Rugby. They usually consist of a great
square tower, with ranges of lesser towers, and the
whole surrounded by thick and lofty walls, beneath
which there was generally a moat or wet ditch. Dover
Castle, placed on a lofty cliflf overlooking the Ensli.sh
Channel, and still kept in good order, is a peculiarly
interesting specimen of tho Norman fortress.

England abounds in mansions in various styles, the
seats of her no))ility and gentry. Some of these reach
a high degree of splendour, both in architecture and
internal furnishing, not to speak of the delightful syl-
van domains by which they are generally surrounded.

CITIES — TOWNS — PORTS.

It has already been seen that a large part of the
population of England is collected in cities and towns
of considerable size. Some of these may be classed
under the separate heads of manufacturing and com-
mercial towns, while others are cither university towns,
naval stations, cathedral towns, or towns for summer
recreation or the residence of persons in independent
21G

circumstances. The cities and towns of England art
of sroal number, and though oilen of plain exterior,
inolude all immense amount of wealth. The prevalaDce
of brick in domestic buildings, and of the smoke Mising
from coal fires, give ft peculiar character to Engllsn
towns. In all, however, there are numerous ohuiche*
and other public edifices, and in luiue there are many
streets built entirely of stone i —

The Metropolis.

Lomlon, tho capital of England, and metropolis of
the British Empire, is situated on the banks of th«
Thames, in the counties of Middlesex and Surrey. Ou
the spot now occuuiod by the city, ot more ancient
part of the metropolis, whioh is on the left or northern
Dank of tho Thames, a town liad been built and pos-
sessed by tho Romans eighteen centuries ago, and irom
that period it has constantly been the seat of an in-
creasing and busy population. Its chief increase and
improvement, however, have been since the great fire
in IGdli, which destroyed a large number of the old
streets and publio edifices. The original city was for-
tified by a wall, whioh has long since been removed, to
allow of an exp:\nsion into the a(\jaoent fields; and as
the number of houses and streets without the old line
of wall has at length greatly exceeded those within,
the city is like a mere kernel in the moss. The extend-
ing city has in time formed a connection with various
clusters of population in the neighbourhood, including
Westminster on the west, and by means of bridges,
Southwark and Lambeth on the south. The whole
metropolis, reckoning by continuous lines of bouses,
extends to a length of nearly U miles, by a br^ 1 1th of
from G to 7; and it is computed that the vli'le in-
cludes at least U5 square miles I

The following is the list of districts included within
what is usually described as London, with their popu-
lation in lti31 : — London within tlie. walls, 67,6^5;
Loudon without the walls, (>7,07U ; city of West-
minster, 202,0i)0; out-parishes within the bills of mor-
tality, 701,348; parishes not within the bills of mor-
tality, 293,507; Southwark, 91,501: total, 1,474,069.
London within the walls contains ninety-eight parishes,
most of which are very small in size, but at one time
were very populous. The practice of living out of
town, and of using the dwelL><."s of the city for ware-
houses, has greatly lessened .i.puIation in latter
times. Without tho walls, there ore eleven parishes,
independently of the parishes in Westminster and
Soutnwark. The largest and most populous of the
suburban parishes is Marylebone. Adjoining the
suburban, though really town parishes, there are various
country parishes, as Greenwich, Deptford, Camberwell,
Clapham, Wcstham and Stratford, Hammersmith,
Ilampstead, &a, containing an aggregate populntion
of 129,480; and adding this number to the above
1,474,069, there was within a compass of about eight
miles round London, in 1831 , a population of 1,584,042,
which in 1841 had increased to 1,873,676, and which
now probably exceeds 2,000,000. Within tho last
fifty years, London has doubled in extent, and at pre-
sent is rapidly increasing on all sides, particularly
on the north, west, and south. Of the population in
1841, 168,000 were domestic servants; 28,000 boot and
shoemakers ; 23,000 tailors ; 21,000 dressmakers and
milliners; 20,000 clerks; 18,000 carpenters ii:<d joiners;
16,000 laundry-keepers, washers, and manglors; 13,000
porters, messenger and errand boys; 11,000 painters,
plumbers, and glaziers; 8000 cabinetmakers and up-
holsterers ; 6600 bricklayers; 6000 butchers; 6600
printers; 7000 seamen; 5000 erocers and tea-dealers;
9000 bakers; 6700 blacksmiths; 5400 booksellers,
binders, and publishers ; 4000 engineer and engine-
workers ; 4500 tavern-keepers and victuallers ; 3800
warehousemen and women; 3800 general merchants;
and so on, showing the very miscellaneous nature of
the trade upon which the metropolis depends.

The increase of London to its present enormous size,
has been promoted by certain highly - favourable cir-

KKOLAKD AKD WAL>a.

mmitancM. t'Init, it hu for sf^ei been the cupltal of
Kngland, and lent of the legiilnturo nnd court; Mid
■inn the union with Scotland nnd Ireland, it hn* become
» centre alio for thcae parti of the United Kingdom.
Reing. therefore, h (Mint of attraction for the nobility,
landed gentry, and other fainiliei of opulence from all
quarter*, a vait inoreaie of population to ininiiter to
tliu taitea and wanti of these clatnea hai been the re-
lult. While deriving iinmcnio advantages from thit
ceiitraliiing principle, London has been etiually, if not
far more, indebted to its excellent situation on the banks
of a great navigable river, and in a fine part of the
country. As already mentioned, Lonilon pro]>er, or
the greater part of the town, stands on the left bank of
the Thames, on ground rising very gently towards the
north; and so oven and regular in outline, that among
the streets) with few exceptions, the ground is almost
flat. On the south bank of the river, the ground is
quite level, rather too much so; and on all sides the
country appears very little diversitied with hills, or any-
thing to interrupt the extension of the buildings. The
Thames, that groat source of wealth to the metro-
polis, is an object which generally excites n lively
interest among strangers. It is a placid, majestic
stream, rising in the interior of the country at the dis-
tance of I'M miles above London, and entering the sea
on the east coast about (iO miles below it. It comes
flowing between low, fertile, and village-clod banks,
out of a richly-ornamented countrr on the west, and
arriving at the outmost houses oi the metropolis, a
short way above Wostniinstcr Abbey, it pursues a
winding course between banks thickly clad with dwell-
ing-houses, warehouses, manufactories, and wharfs,
for a space of eight or nine miles, its breadth being
hero from a third to a quarter of a mile. The tides
ofl^ect it for fifteen or sixteen miles above the city;
but the salt water comes no further than Gravesond,
of thirty miles below it. However, such is the volume
and depth of water, that vessels of seven or eight
hundred tons reach the city on its eastern quarter at
Wapping. The nett customhouse duty collected at
the port in 1U44 amounted to the amazing sum of
£11,197,981, being fully one-half of the entire customs'
duties of the United Kingdom >

London, from the want of stone in all the eastern
districts of England, is essentially a brick-bvilt toivn.
To a stranger, it appears to consist of an intermin-
able series of streets of moderate width, composed
of dingy-red brick houses, which are commonly four
storeys in height, and seldom less than three. The
greater proportion of the dwellings are small. They
are mere slips of buildings, containing in most in-
atances only two small rooms on the floor, one behind
the other, often with a wide door of communication
between, and a wooden stair, with balustrades, from
bottom to top of the house. It is only in the more
fashionable districts of the town that the houses have
Bunk areas with railings ; in all the business parts,
they stand close upon the pavements, so that trade
may be conducted with the utmost facility and con-
venience. Every street possesses a smooth flagged
pavement at the sides for foot passengers; while the
central parti of the thoroughfares are causewayed with
square hard stones, or paved in some other way equally
suited to endure the prodigious tear and wear created
by the horses and vehicles passing along them. In the
central and many other principal streets of London,
the ground storeys of the houses are generally used as
shops or warehouses. When the object is retail trafiic,
the whole range of front is usually formed into door
and window, so as to show goods to the best advantage
to the passengers. The exhibition of goods in the
London shop-windows is one of the greatest wonders
of the place. Everything which the appetite can desire,
or the fancy imagine, would appear there to be congre-
gated. In every other city there is an evident meagre-
ness in the quantity and assortments ; but here there
is the most overwhelming abundance.

The flowing of the Thames from west to east through

the motropolur, hn >i-ren a Mnc. dtnMlM to Hut
lines of streets ; : )> ><-ipal tnoroi it'aiw an !>'

measure parallel < ><' river, wit) be latek>'
least shorter, street8 oran^hing ftriHt ihem. I>i>
ing the town lengthwise, or from east > w«h'
groat leading thoroughfares at a short >li>ijti
each other, but gradually diverging at tie i
extremity. It is a matter of general compi
there are so few great channels of coniin >
through London both lengthwise and crosswise; In
inferior streets, independently of their complex bear-
ings, are much too narrow for regular traffic. Accord-
ing to the accounts last taken, the entire metropolii
contained 13,936 separate streets, squares, courts,
alleys, &c. each wiih a distinct name. Uxford Street,
the longest in London, is 2304 yards in length, and
numbers 325 houses on each side.

Without particular reference to municipal distlnc-

ins, London may bo divided into four principal por-

the city, which is the centre, and where the

II Uit

tioni
tions ■

greatest part of the business is conducted; the east
end, in which is the port for shipping; the west end,
or Westminster, in which are the palaces of the Queen
and royal family, the Houses of Parliament, West-
minster Abbey, and the residences of the nobility and
gentry; the Surrey division, lying on the south side
of the Thames, and containing many mnuufacturing
establishments and dwellings of private families. Be-
sides these, the northeni suburbs, which include the
once detached villages of Stoke-Newington, Islington,
Iloxton, St Paiicras, Pentonville, Senior's Town, and
Paddington, and consist chieflv of private dwellings for
the mercantile and higher classes, may be considered
a peculiar and distinct division. It is, however, no-
where possible to say exactly where any one division
begins or ends. Throughout the vast compass of the
city and suburbs there is a blending of one division
with those contiguous to it. In the business parts
there are lines or clusters of neat dwellings, and in
the parts devoted to retirement there are seen indica-
tions of business. The outskirts on all sides comprise
long rows or groups of detached villas, with orna-
mental flower-plots; and houEcs of this attractive kind
proceed in some directions so far out of town, that
there seems no getting beyond them into the country.
From the Surrey division there extend southwards and
westwards a great number of these streets of neat
private houses, as, for instance, towards Walworth,
Kennington, Clapham, Brixton, &c.; and in these direc-
tions lie some of the most pleasant spots in the environ!
of the metropolis.

Manufacturing Towns.

At the head of these stands Mancheskr, the chief
seat of the principal manufacture of England — that of
cotton. This town is situated on the river Irwell, in
the south-east district of Lancashire, at the distance of
ltt2 miles from London. Inclusive of Salford, a sepa-
rate municipality on the other side of the Irwell, and
also comprehending a few connected villages, Man-
chester contained in 1831 a population of 227,808, and
in 1841, 296,183. The ground on which the town
stands is a perfect level, and from whatever side it is
approached, its crowd of spires, towers, manufactories,
and warehouses, appears mingling with the smoke that
hangs over it. The older part of the town clusters
round the collegiate church, an elegant and spacious
structure of the time of Henry VII., or extends in the
ancient street called Deansgate. The busiest com-
mercial street is Market Street, and the most elegant
is Mosley Street. The town contains most of the usual
public buildings to be found in one of its size — a Town-
Hall, infirmary, prison. Exchange, &c. besides several
institutions of a literary and scientific character; and
several of these buildings, particularly the two first,
are of remarkable elegance. A botanic garden and
public park in the outskirts of the town, are great
ornaments, and form most delightful as well as in-
structive places of recreation.

217

CBAHBBBSPg IXfOUUnoX fOB THS PEOPLB.

Th* fMtorlM of MuohMtw cioMa \M in nunibwi
thty raiploy b«tw»«n M.OOO uiU 4A.(M)(( imjmoiu, aiid
■tMm •iiKiiiary tqu*! in pow«r to «000 honvt. About
four-tlfthi of th« cotton iiiwiul'actur. of the kit .{(luni
omtm in Limcwihire, »na of thii • Irj-ge pro|K)rtion ii
conflnwl to Mttnoh»ft«r— th«rt beiii|( in IIU'l no ftwer
tb»n 1724 cottou-niilli,eiu|iloving 197,4tiO iiMiili. The
woollen, linen, Mid silk triule, pnrticularljr the iMt,
and muir imallvr manufacturei, m of hnti, plni, uiu-
brallM, BO., are alto c«rried on to a large extent in
thie town. It may b« added, that tho tnakiug of
maohiner; bae of late jrear* beiHime a thriTing tra<le in
the townehlp. The town li alio the centre of lereral
railwajr linei, and \iy ineani of tbeio, the Irwell, and
numeroui canals, it tranipurti and receives goods to
and from erery part of the kingdom.

The above may Iw considered as an outline of this
mat scat of manufacturing and commeivial industry.
Fully to describe the bustle of wagons and human
beings on its streets, to detail the vast mercantile tran-
sactions in which it is engaged, or describe its numerous
factories and workshops of various kinds, would re-
quire a separate volume. In the wn\ of details, wo
may traricribe a few paragraphs from a local work
published a few years ago under the title of ' Man-
chester as it Is : ' —

' Many of tho mills are immense buildings, raised to
the height of six, seveii, and eight storeys, erecte<l at
an expense of many thousands of pounds, and filled
«ith machinenr costing as many more. The capital
sunk in a single mill will sometimes be £50,000, and
frequently is as much as £100,000. Some of the mills
contain nearly 2000 hands. A visit to one of the larf^est
mills, if an introduction can bo procured, is a gratify-
ing treat. The rooms are kept in the most perfect state
of cleanliness, and the strictest order and regularity
prevail. Every operation is performed by rule, and the
subdivision of labour is carried out in tho most minute
manner. Tho mills and factories are of various sorts
— namely, cotton ipinning-milh, silk spinning-mills,
woollen spinniiig-inills and factories, small-ware fac-
toriet, and power-loom weaving factories.

Amongst the cotton-mills, one of extraordinary ex-
tent, belonging to Messro liirley k Co., is situated in
the suburb called Cborlton-upon-Medlock. It consists
of a group of buildings, upon which, including machi-
nery, several hundred thousand pounds have been sunk.
The number of hands employed by this firm is 1600,
whos« wages annually amount to the sum of £40,000.
The amount of moving power is equivalent to the
labour of 397 horses. The number of spindles in the
mills is about 80,000. The annual consumption of raw
cotton is about 4,000,000 lbs. weight I One room alone
contains upwards of 600 power-looms. In the estab-
lishments called small-ware mills, the articles of cot-
ton, worsted, and silk tapes, are very extensively
manufactured. Some idea of the extent to which tape
manufacture is carried on in Manchester, may be formed
from the face, that at the works of Messrs Wood and
Westheads, upwards of 1,Q40,000 yards of goods, not
exceeding three inches in width, and compoaed partly
or entirely of cotton, linen, silk, or worsted, are woven
in one week, or upwards of 85,227 miUt in one year I

One of the principal works in the department of
steam-engine making and engineering, is that belong-
ing to William Fairbaim, Esq., situate in Canal Street,
Great Ancoats Street. In this establishment the heaviett
description of machinery is manufactured, including
steam' engines, water-wheels, locomotive-engines, and
mill-gearing. There are from 550 to 650 hands em-
ployed in the various departments; and a walk through
the extensive premises, in which this great number of
men are busily at work, affords a specimen of industry,
and an example of practical science, which can scarcely
be kurpassed. In every direction of the works the
utmost ayttem prevails, and each mechanic appears to
have his peculiar description of work assigned, with
the utmost economical subdivision of labour. All is ac-
tivity, yet without confusion. Smiths, strikers, mouldera,

millwright* mtohanies, boilerroaken, pattern -maker*,
appear to attend to their /eapectivv employmeuti ^itU
as much regularity as thj working of the maohiuvry
they assist tu conntruot.

In one department maobanlcs are employed In build-
ing those mighty machines which have augmented ■»
immensely the iiiaiiu(kcturing interests of < Ireat liritain
—namely, steaiu-engines. All sixes and dimensions
are frequently under hand, from the diminutive lize of
11 hones' power, to the enormous magnitude of 400
horses' power. One of this latter siia cont«ins the
vast ainuunt of 200 tons or upwards of metal, and it
worth, in round numbers, from £5000 to £6000. This
extensive cuncurn forwards Its manufactures to all
parts of the world. The stranger i^ told, on inquiry,
that thii article is for Calcuttik, /Aa( for the West Indies;
this for St Petersburg, that for New South Wales;
and there are, besides, men belonging to it looaUd in
various parts of Europe, who are employed, under tho
direction of Mr Fairbaim, in superintending the erec-
tion of work manufactured on those premises.'

Jjeedi, tho chief town for the manufacture of cloths,
is situated in tho West Hiding of Yorkshire, on a slope
gently rising f.oiit the Uiver Aire, at a distance of lUU
miles from London, with which, as well as with the
chief towns of the kingdom, it is now connected
by railway. It contains a few streets of handsome
houses; but as in many other English manufacturing
towns, utility appears to b<* more in contemplation
than ornament or elegance. The population in 1891
was 123,393; in 1841, 151,063. There are some
goodly public structures, as a court-house, commercial
Duildiugs, theatre, kc, and the town enjoys the bene-
fits of a literary and philosophical society, an institu-
tion for tho promotion of the fine arts, and several
public libraries.

Leeds is the centre of a large district devoted to the
making of mixed and white cloths. Cloths of light
fabric, and blankets and carpets, are also made here in
considerable quantity; but the mixed and white cloths
form the staple of the business of the district. I'he
mode in which these are sold in Leeds, gives ocoasion
for the existence of two public building* of a most pe-
culiar nature. They are calle<I respectively the Mixed
Cloth Hall and the White Cloth Hall, A description
of the former, from a popular work, will convey an idea
of both:— ' The Mixed Cloth Hall was erected in 175U,
at the general expense of the merchants. It is a quad-
rangular edifice, surrounding a large open area, from
which it receives the light abundantly, bv a great num-
ber of lofty windows; it is 12B yards in length and 66
in breadth, divided in the interior into six departments,
or covered streets, each including two rows of stands,
amounting in number to IBOO, neld as freehold pro-
perty by various manufacturert, everjr stand being
marked with the name of the proprietor. This hall is
exclusively aupropriate'l to the use of persons who have
served a regular apprenticeship to the trade or mystery
of making coloured cloths. The markets are held on
Tuesdays and Saturdays, and only for an hour and a-
hal<° each day, at which period alone sales can take
place. The market-bell rings at six o'clock in the
morning in summer, and at seven in winter, when the
markets are speedily filled, the benches covered with
cloth, and the proprietors respectively take their stands:
the bell ceasing, the buyers enter, and proceed with
secrecy, silence, and expedition, to bargain for the cloth
they may require, and business is thus summarily trans-
acted, often involving an exchange of property to a vast
amount. When the time for selling is terminated, the
bell again rings, and any merchant staying in the hall
afler it has ceased, becomes liable to a penalty. The
hall is under the managemtnt of fifteen trustees, who
hold their meetings in on octagonal building, erected
near the entrance to this hall.'

Hudderifidd, with a population of 25,000, Wake-
field (15,000), SaddUwortk (17,000), Halif<ui (20,000),
and Bradford (34,000), all in Yorkshire, and Rochdale
(67,000) in Lancashire, en other towna noted for their

ftKOLAlTD AND WALBB.

conntrn in tlit elolh mftnufaoturt, but of lrr«rior popu-
;«li»n, Mid not (luUngulilitU hy any r«tn«rk»bla Im-
turM. Asmituki (.i.Doi)), KiUiiermiiuUr (U.UMI),
Athlon, »iiil fVUlon, uru tho oliicf leata uf the carpet
iiianufai'turo. Itnulj'urd ia VVUtaliirei li diatiii|{uiilte<l
fur luiwrlb"

Uirmim.iKi !iir.t »'*t) in the kinudoiu eiiKMged

in inetallu uu. . i< situatud iu Warwickihira,

•t the diitai. ' ' iiulei fruiu l<<'iiduii. Tho lower
part ')f Iho tuwii coimiiiti cltielly uf uld buildiliKi, ia
crowded with wurliihupa und waruhuuMf, and ii iii'ia-
bitod princitiuUy V>y maiiufiictureni; but tho upper part
haa a lupermr up|it!araiice, coimiitiiiK uf utiw and regu-
lar itreoti, und cuiilaiMing u number of elegant build-
iligi. Anioii):it t ho public bulldinj(i,thu Town-Hall calli
for particular i aicc, buinu a luaKuiHcont itructuru of
the Corinthian xrdor, in the proportion! of tho temple
of J ipi< ur SiaCor at Uoniu. The |)opulation of lltrininK-
haiuinlUUI wai 14U,i)U<J;iu 1U41, I8l,lll(i;b«ing nearly
all engaged iu trade and tuanufacturei.

Amongit the principal luanufacture* ure buttoni in
immenio variety, buckle*, cloak -piua, and inuii'-boxog ;
toyi, triukota, and jewellery ; pol'ahed itoel watch-
ohaina, corkicri'wi, &c.; pUted guoda for tho dining and
toa-tablo, now in the way of boiiig auperiedud by liuiilar
goodi of mixed uietal; japanned and enamelled arti-
olei; bnuw-work of every uoacription; awordi) and fire-
armi : medoli and coins of various kinds ; copying
inachinea and pneumatic apparatus; grates, tiru-irons,
gas-light burners, nails, and steel-pens. Ucsides almost
every metallio article which can be considered as
curious, useful, or ornamental, cut crystal is produced
to a large extent, wbilo certain branches of the cotton
trade connected with liardware, as the niakinu of the
cloth for umbrellas, braces, girths, and the like, have
also fixed themselves hero, in order to facilitate the
preparation of these articlei).

The operations of the Birmingham manufacturers
are carried on chiofly by means of foundries, rolling-
mills, die-stamping machines, and turning-lathes. From
the foundries proceed all heavy iron goods, and oven a
considerable quantity of small wares, though the work
required in trimming these articles after they leave tho
sand, causes a constant tendency towards the use of the
die-stamp iu preference. Jiy tho latter machine, not
only are Duttons and other small articles produced, but
likewise complicated decorative articles of many various
kinds, to which it might bo supposed that the process
was inapplicable, 'fue rolling-mill is u ponderous
engine fur pressing out ingots of metal into sheets of
requisite thinness. The lathe, a conspicuous machine
iu the workshops of Birmingham, is used for the pre-
paration of articles of correctly circular, and also of
pval form. It is usually driven by steam ; and in many
instances this power is not generated in the premises
of those who uso it, but is obtained upon rental from
some steam-engine kept by a different individual in
the neighbourhood.

To give an idea of the extent of some branches of
trade, and the activity of some kinds of machinery at
Birmingham, it may be stated that at the pin-works,
some years ago, 12,000 pins could be cut and pointed,
and 50,000 pin-heads made from the wire, in an hour;
that there is a coining-mill which produces between
30,000 and 40,000 pieces of coin in the same time; and
that from 1805 to 1818, 5,000,000 stands of arms were
made for public and private service. The making of
steel-pens, which, before 1821, was scarcely known, is
now a great manufacture. Probably not less than
10,000,000 are made annually. There is one individual
in the trade who employs 250 persons, and consumes
every year upwards of forty tons of metal. The article
was originally sold at the rate of one shilling each pen ;
and now, from improvements and facilities in the
manufacture, 144 are sold at the same money.

Shield, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, ranks
only second to Birmingham as a seat of metallic manu-
factures. In 1841 it contained 109,597 inhabitants,
gTMt part of whom are engaged ia the buiiaeM for

which 8heffii-ld ii* remarkable, Tli« situation of the
town, upon a swelling piooe uf ground n«ar the cuu>
tlucnce (if th« .-^hvaf and Don, gives it health and clean-
linesn; but onl} the newer street! and suburkMi viUoa
are neat, and the tuwn is ctmitaiiily involved in the
sinukv arising fntiii the maiiufoclDries, A mMsic-hall,
[Hiat-otHce, and medical hull, t»tfeth«r with a build<«ig
called the Cutlers' Hall, in which th« metnbers of that
trutlu moot for an annual banquvt, are the chief public
buildings boasting of any elegance of exterior.

HhelHdd was famous in tho niidiUu ages for producing
knives and arrow-heads. From such small beginnings,
it advanced in tho course of ages to its present distinc-
tion. An Immenso quantity of knives, scissors, implo-
ment* of husbandry, and surgical and mathematical
instruments, is now made in it. The nuuiufacture of
plate, and of goods in imitation of it, as also of car-
penters' tools, printing types, haircloth, and many other
articles, is carried on to an immense extent. The
manufactures of iijhofKeld have the peculiarity of beiuff
chieily in the hands of men uf moderate capital anu
limited business, though there are also a few bouses
which engross a vast quantity of the principal trade.
Tho establishments for tho grinding and polishing of
cutlery are among the most striking ubjocts of curiosity
to a stranger; and tho show-ror n of the Messrs llogers,
cutlers to her Majesty, is a splendid museum, wltere
all the local manufactures may b« seen, of th« best
quality, and in the finest order.

Coventry, an ancient city in Warwickshire, 91 milei
from London, is a great seat of the manufacture of
ribbons, and also of watches. Some other manufac-
tures, carried on to a great extent in the last century,
including gauzes and calimancoes, haw declined, leav-
ing the above alone flourishing. Tho population in 1831
was 27,070; in 1841, 30,179; all except a small portion
being engaged in trade and manufactures,

Coventry is an ancient town of note, and contains,
besides some good modem public buildings, an old
church of remarkable beauty ns a specimen of Gothic
architecture, and a very curious old hall (St Marv'e
Hall), used for festive purposes, having a grotesquely-
carved ,oak roof, and a piece of tapestrjr, wrought in
1450, measuring 30 foet by 10, and containing 80 figures.
The town was remarkable in early ages for the perform-
ance of the grotesque religious dramas called Myste-
ries, and for the shows and pageants which took place
in celebration of the visits of royal personages. One
pageant of an extraordinary character has been per-
formed annually ever since the reign of Charles II.
It is designed to commemorate a real or imaginary
incident, which is thus related: — Leofric, Earl of Mercia,
who possessed the property of the tolls and services of
Coventry, exacted his dues so rigidly, that the inhabi-
tants were greatly aggrieved, and at length Qodiva, hie
pious wife, became their advocate. The carl, wearied
by her solicitations, promised to grant her request, if
she would ride naked through the town at mid-day.
His terms, according to the legend, were accepted, and
the countess rode through the town with no coverintr
but her flowing tresses. It is added, that she had
modestly commanded every person to keep within doors
anfl away from the windows, on pain of death; but that
one person could not forbear taking a glance, and lost
his life for his curiosity. The procession commemo-
rative of this occurrence includes the whole of the offi-
cials of the corporation, besides a female of easy pur-
chase, who rides in a dress of linen, closely fitted to her
limbs, and coloured like them. The curious person who
stole the glance is called Peeping Tmn, and a wooden
image of him is to be seen on a house in the city.

Derby, the capital of Derbyshire, is an ancient, but
now considerably modernised town, situated on a plea-
sant slope and irregular ground, on the south side of
the vale of the Derwent, a river tributary to the Trent,
pursuing a winding course through the county, and of
great value in moving mill-machinery. Derby is the
centre of one of the most productive and industrious
districts in Eusland, particulwly im respects the mauu-

219

CHAMBE?^'S iSF&BMA.nOS FOR T^E PEOPLE.

liiitUre of Iron and other muwrala. In the town and
its neighbourboid there are large nianufactoriei of
lace, galloong, broad silkg, Bilk hosiery, china, marble,
jewellery, &c.; several estensive millii and manufac-
toriei have been built within these few years, and the
machinery is equal to that of any other part of the
kingdom. The town is irregularly built, and excepting
some new erections In the corn-market, an infirmary,
and an old church, with an elegant and conspicuous
tower, it owns no public building worthy of remark.
Though placed in the midst of a stone district, the
houses are, as usual, built of brick. Within these few
yean, Derby has oonie prominently into notice by being
on the line of the extended series of railways from
Durham and Yorkshire to London. In 1840, the town
received from Mr Joseph Strutt the munificent gift of
a pleasure-ground, 1 1 acres in extent, and called by
him the Arboretum. It is replenished with walks, seats,
and everyway fitted up for promenading and recrea-
tion ; it is opened freely two days of the week to all
classes, and on other days is accessible upon payment
of a small fee. The population of Derby, in 1831,
amounted to 23,627; in 1841, 32,407.

Carlisle, which in early times was distinguished as
a bulwark against the invasions of the Scottish armies,
and as a cathedral city, has latterly acquired some
note as a seat of manufactures, particularly in the de-
partment of cotton-spinning, calico-printing, and the
weaving of ginghams, &c. The establishment of rail-
^ray communication with Newcastle on the one hand,
and with the west of England and with Scotland on
the other, has within the last few years added to its
mercantile prosperity. The population in 1831 was
20,006; in 1841 it was 23,012.

', ",;' Commercial Towns.

At the head of this class stands Livei'ponl, next to
Loudon the greatest port in the empire. It is situated
in Lancashire, on the east bank of the estuary of the
Mersey, at the distance of 86 miles from Manchester,
and 204 from London. The town extends for about
three miles along the Mersey, and rather more than
one mile inland, the situation enjoying a slight slope
towards the river. On the side next tho country, the
town extends into numerous suburban di.itricts, com-
prehending many villas, the residences of the more
wealthy citizens. The rise of Liverpool has been sur-
priiinxly rayid. In the reign of Elizabeth, it was only
a smiul Tillage; in 1700, there were about 5000 inha-
bitants; in 1760, 26,000; in 1801, 77,653; in 1831,
165,176; and in 1841,282,656.

Urerpool is the grand medium through which the
trade of England with Ireland and with America is
carried on; and a vast quantity of business is trans-
acted by its merchants with the - .i^s ui the Mediter-
ranean, East Indies, and other p vts of the world. The
leading article of import is the <. tton so extensively
used in the manufactures of Lanca hire, of which, in
1830, out of 793,6215 bales imporCed into England,
703,200 were brought into Liverpool. The rural pro-
duce of Ireland — cattle, bacon, poultry, eggs, &c. —
forms the import next in amount, tho value iu 1-832
being about £4,500,000 sterling. The duties paid at the
customhouse of Liverpool in 1844 were £4,365,526,
being about a fifth of those paid throughout the whole
kingdom. Its progress as a comraisroial port may be
best traced from the number and burthen of tho ves-
sels which have entered the docks during the last
thirty years, and which has been as follows: — In 1812,
4599 vessels, and 446,788 tannage ; in 1820, 7276 ves-
sels, and 805,033 tonnage; in 1825, 10,837 vessels, and
1,223,820 tonnage; in 1830,.' 1,214 vesse'' and 1,41 1,964
tonnage; in 1835, 13,941 resMls, nr ^ 68,426 ton-
nage; in 1840, 15,998 vossela, and 2/i. .08 tonnage;
and in 1845, 20,521 vessel, and 8,016,531 tonnage.
Liverpool is tho great outlet for the goods manufactujred
in Laiucashire and Yorkshire for sale in America. It
is stated that one mercantile house in the Anierican
trade luw in one year shipped and received goods to tho
23»

amount of a million. In connection with the commerce
carried on with the United States, there is a large transit
of passengers. This was formerly carried on by means
of a periodical series of well-appointed and quick-sail-
ing vessels, usually termed /tner»; but since 1888, it has
been conducted by means of steam-vessols. There are
also steam-vessels conveying passengers daily to and
from Dublin, Glasgow, and several Welsh ports, and
only a little less frequently to other Irish harbours,
and to several ports in the south-west of England,

Tho town, thus so extensively concerned in that com-
merce from which England derives its chief glory, pr6-
sents many external features not unworthy of its mer-
cantile character. Of these the chief is the Dochu, a
magnificent series of deep-water harbours, extending
along the whole front of the town. When those now
making and those proposed are finished, they will
form an aggregate superficies of 203 acres, and 15
miles of quays! In the year ending June 24, 1840,
the dues paid by vessels entering and leaving them was
£197,477, 18s. 6d. The sight of these docks, bristling
with numberless masts, and a scene of constant bustle
from loading and unloading, fills a stranger with asto-
nishment. In connection with the docks of Liverpool,
we may mention those of Birkenhead, on the opposite
side of the river, which, when finished, will afford an
amount of shipping accommodation equal to 206 acres t
The rise of Birkenhead, which may date its commercial
existence from 1844, is wholly unparalleled in the his-
tory of this or any other nation.

The town contains several handsome streets, the
chief being Castle Street and Dale Street. The Town-
Hall and Exchange Buildings form an elegant and
impressive assemblage of objects, having a bronze
group in the intermediate court, ooromemorative of
the death of Lord Nelson. The Customhouse is, as
might be expected, a conspicuous edifice, but in a heavy
style of architecture. The ether public buildings —
the Corn-Exchange, Lyceum, Athemcum, Royal ^nk,
the Assize Courts and St George's Hall, Wellington
Rooms, Infirmary, &c. are goodly structures. There are
upwards of twenty churches belonging to the establish-
ment, many of them of nxuch architectural beauty; a
greater number of chapels belonging to various deno-
minations of dissenters ; with four Roman Catholic
chapels, a lueeting-house for Quakers, and' a Jews'
synagogue. The charitable institutions are numerous
and well conducted. About 1500 patients are admitted
annually into the infirmary. The Blue-Coat Hospital
maintains and educates about 200 boys and girls. The
school for the blind is on a most extensive scale. A
handsome and spacious theatre, and a circus, are open
during great part of tho year. At the Royal Liverpool
Institution, public lectures are given ; and attached to
it is a philosophical apparatus and a museum of na-
tural curiosities. A botanic garden was established in
1801 at an expense of about £10,000. There is also a
mechanics' institution of unusual extent and elegance,
having been erected at an expense of £11,000. It in-
cludes schools for the young, as well as for the adoles-
cent; and in the amount of its funds, and variety of
the branches of knowledge taught, the establishment
may be described as a kind of university for tho middle
and working -classes of Liverpool. Amongst tha re-
markable objects connected with the town, the orna-
mental Cemetei-y of St James's, farmed out of an old
stone quarry, is worthy of particular notice. It con-
tains a statue of Mr Huskisson,

Bristol, a large seaport town, is bituated partly in the
county of Somerset and partly in that of Gloucester, at
the junction of the r' 'ers Avon and Frome, and about
ten miles from the junction of the former (which is
navigable) with the Bristol Channel. It is one of a few
English towns which possess the dubiously -acknow-
ledged privilege of being counties in themselves, and
it is also the cathedral city for the diocese of Bristol.
Bristol is an ancient town, and has long enjoyed dis-
tinction as a seaport. Previous to the rise of Liverpool,
to which it is now greatly inferior, it was the chief port

''JENOLANB AND WALES. '.'MfUt n

le comm^Ne
large transit
m by means
1 quick-sail-
i I«89, it has
, There are
Ituly to and
1 ports, and
ih harbours,
ngland.
in that com-
f glory, pre-
f of its mer-
bhe Docks, a
I, extending
n those now
I, they will
ires, and 15
ne 24, 1840,
ng them was
iks, bristling
istant bustle
er with asto-
)f Liverpool,
the opposite
rill amtrd an
to 206 acres t
9 commercial
d in the hls-

streets, the
The Town-
elegant and
ig a bronze
emorative of
ihouse is, as
lit in a heavy
buildings —
Royal ^k,
Wellington
, There are
jhe establish-
beauty; a
arious deno-
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re numerous
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' girls. The
Ire scale. A

Lrtly in the

lucester, at

land about

1 (which is

\o of a few

}-acknow-

jelves, and

bf Bristol.

loyed dis-

Liiverpool,

bhitf port

of the west of England. It still possesses considerable
trade, and has further of late years become the seat of
some iKtive and thriving manufactures. In 1837, 886
ships, of 76,957 tons burthen, entered the harbour from
foreign ports, besides 632 from Ireland; and in the
same year, the customs duties collected were ;£!, 153,109.
Sugar, rum, and tea, are the chief foreign imports; while
the chief exports are the native manufactures, and
cotton, woollen, and linen goods. The chief native
manufactures arc soap, glass bottles, various metallic
wares, drugs, dyes, and soda. It is honourable to
Bristol that, as in its ancient days of supereminency as
a port, it sent out the first English vessel across the
Atlantic (that of Cabot, which discovered North Ame-
rica), BO in these days it was the first to establish a
communication by steam with the same continent.
This was done in 1838, when the Great Western per-
formed its first voyage. The population of Bristol in
1831 was 117,016; in 1841, 123,188.

Bristol is a well-built town, containing many spacious
streets and squares, and extending into several beau-
tiful suburban villagee, as Clifton, Kingsdown, and
St Michael's, where the residences of the wealthiest
citizens are placed. The city contains many public
structures of an interesting character. The cathedral
is a fine old specimen of the Gothic architecture, and
the church of St Mary RedclitFe is considered one of
the most beautiful in Kngland. The ' floating harbour,'
formed out of the ancient beds of the two rivers, and
surrounded by an immense extent of quay, is a most
impressive object: the cost of its construction was not
much less than ^700,000. The Guildhall, Jail, Com-
mercial Rooms, and Institution (which contains a li-
brary, hall for lectures, &c.), are other public buildings
of an elegant appearance. Clifton, well known for its
hot springs, contains a suite of baths and pump-rooms,

Newcastle- on -Tyne. — This ancient and prosperous
Ee.-it of commerce occupies a somewhat incommodious
situation on the left or north bank of the Tync, at the
Uistauce of about ten miles from the sea. It is locally
in the county of Northumberhuid, and by means of a
brilgo across the Tyne, is connected with the populous
bor:iugh of Gateshead, in the county of Durham. It
owes the origin of its name to Robert, the eldest son of
William the Conqueror, who erected a fortress on the
high bluff which here overhangs the river, and gave it
the name of Newcastle. For ages the town was sur-
rounded by strong walls, as a protection against invad-
ing Scottish armies: these, however, have disappeared,
and in modern times the town has spread over the
irregular acclivities and upland which border the river.
The old fort or castle still exists, also the ancient Gothic
church of St Nicholas, whose elegant turret is conspi-
cuous at a considerable distance. The main cause of
the increasing importance of Newcastle is its fortunate
situation in the midst of the great coal-field of North-
umberland and Durham, the produce of which finds a
ready outlet by the Tyno. The plentifulness of coal
has led to the establishment of numerous manufactures,
among which are numbered cast and ^vrought iron,
machinery, lead, gloss, chemical productions, pottery,
soap, and glue. The gross receipts at the customhouse,
which includes also the port of Shields, for the year
1848, was £456,956. The older parts of the town near
the river exhibit a busy scene of industry; here are
crowded together ship and boat-building yards, wharfs
for vessels, iron foundries and machine maimfactories,
and all the usual v-orks connected with a great seaport.
The streets in this quarter are dirty and smoky, but other
parts of the town are of great elegance. Since 1834, by
the extraordinary energy and taste of Mr Richard
Grainger, a speculating architect, a large portion of the
town has been taken down and rebuilt with handsome
stone houses, amidst which are various public buildings,
including a theatre, an Exchange, extensive markets,
&c. Newcastle must be considered the metropolis of
a rich and populous district, including Tynemouth,
North and South Shields (all at the mouth of the
Tyue), Sunderland, DurhMn, and Gateshead; and wHh

these it is intimately connected by meani of the river,
railways, or otherwise. At Shields and Sunderland are
the great dep6ta of shipping in the coal and other
trades. Besides its remarkable manufacturing and
commercial industry, Newcastle ill distinguished for its
philosophical and literary institutions, no other town
of its kind possessing so many inhabitants of cultivated
taste. In 1831, including the population of Gateshead,
which was 15,177, Newcastle and its suburbs had a
population of 68,790; in 1841, the population of Gates-
head was 19,843; of Newcastle, 69,430— total, 89,273.
Hull (properly Kingston-upon-Hull) is situated at
the confluence of the Hiver Hull with the estuarr of
the Huraber, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, of which
district it is the principal town. It commands an ex-
traordinary amount of inland navigation, not only by
moans of the Trent, Ouse, Derweut, and other branches
of ^he Humber, but by means of canals connecting with
those streams, and penetrating to the very heart of
England. It is the principal outlet for the manufac-
tures of York and Lancashire towards the continent of
Europe, the chief seat of the northern whale-fishery,
and one of the most important stations for steam-navi-
gation in the island, having packets of that kind
voyaging not only to London, Newcastle, Leith, and
Aberdeen, besides many inland places in its own dis-
trict, but to Rotterdam, Hamburg, and occasionally to
some of the ports in what is more particularly called
the north of Europe. Hull was a noted port so early
as the reign of Edward I.; and in the seventeenth
century it was a great state depot for arms, on which
account the possession of it in the time of the civil
war became an object of much importance. The re-
fusal of its governor. Sir John Hotharo, to give it up at
that time to Charles I., or even to admit his majesty
within the gates, is a conspicuous incident in English
history. For some years, owing to various circum-
stances, some branches of the commerce of the port
have expe^enccd a decline rather than an advance;
but it is still a town of large trade. In 1829, 579
vessels, of 72,248 aggregate tonnage, belonged to Kail.
For the accommodation of the shipping there is a splen-
did range of docks, with all the accommodations suit-
able for storing a vast quantity of merchandise. The
population of the town in 1841 was 65,670.

Che$ter is one of the less imiK>rtant and le'" populous
of the commercial towns of England. Such importance,,
however, as it possesses as a commercial town, is en-
hanced by its being a county town and cathedral city,
and the residence of a considerable number of persons
in independent circumstances. It is also remarkable
for its antiquity and its historical associations, as well
as for some local features of an unusual kind.

It is situated within a bend of the Dee, a few miles
from the point where that river joins an estuary branch-
ing from the Irish Channel. The two principal streets
cross each other at right angles, and the town is still
surrounded by the massive walls which were originally
designed to protect it from warlike aggression, but are
now only useful as aq agreeable promenade, from which
some pleasant views of the surrounding country may
be obtained. The streets are formed in hollows dug
out of rock, so that the lowest floor of each house is
under the level of the ground behind, though looking
out upon the carriage-way in front. The paths for pas-
sengers are not here, as is usually the ca«e, formed in
lateral lines along the streets, but in a piazza running
along the front of what in England is called the first,
and in Scotland more correctly the secmid floor, of the
houses. These piazzas, called in Chester the Rrms, are
accessible from the street by sburs at convenient dis-
tances. There are numerous shops entered from them,
and they in some places still retain the massive wooden
balustrades with which all were originally furnished,
but for which, in other places, light iron railings have
been substituted. Where the houses and balustrades
are old, the efl^ect is very curious and striking, and apt
to awaken ideas of ancient usages and habits long passed
away- The cathedral of Cheater contains some curious

321

CHAMBERS^ INFOBMATIOlff FOR THE PEOPLE.

Micient arcMtectUM. The cartleii » iplendid modern
biulding, on the site of the powerfl.1 fortrew whroh was
once of such importance m » check upon the Welsh:
it contains the county court-house, jaJ, &c. The prin-
cipal other buildings' are the Halls built by the mer-
chants to senre as marts, of which there are three, be-
sides the Exchange. The bridge across the Dee is a
remarkable object, being of one arch, with a span of
200 feet; it cost £40,000. . ,. u

Chester was an important station of the Komans,
from whom it derired the cross form of its two prin-
cipal streets, and of whom many relics have from time
to time been dug up. It retained its importance dur-
ing Saxon and Norman times, and in the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries was a flourishing city, with a large
maritime trade. It then declined, in consequence of
natural obstructions to the navigation of the river.
From the year 1328 downwards, it was remarkable for
the annual performance of a peculiar class of theatrical
representations, similar to those performed at Coventry,
and termed Mysteries. To modem taste these would
Mem the most gross burlesque of sacred subjects; but
so convinced were the clergy of those days of their edi-
fying qualities, that a thousand days of pardon from
the pope, and forty from the bishop of Chester, were
granted to all who attended them, After a long period
of declension, the trade of Chester was revived by the
cutting of a new channel for the river, whereby vessels
of 600 tons burthen were enabled to come to the quays
near the town. The commerce, with the exception of
» few ships which visit Spain, Portugal, the Mediterra-
nean, and the Baltic, is chiefly confined to Ireland,
whence an immense quantity of linen, hemp, flax, skins,
and provisions, is imported. The exports of Chester
are cheese (the staple production of the county), lead,
coal, calamine, copper -plates, and cast-iron. Ship-
building is carried on to a considerable extent, and
there are some manufactures of inferior consequence.
The population in 1831 was 21,363; in 1841, 22,961.

Southampton is an ancient, but considerably modern-
ised town, the capital of Hampshire, anvi, next to Ports-
mouth and Plymouth, may be considered the chief out-
port on the south coast. It enjoys a situation at once
pleasant and convenient, in a vale adjoining to the
bay bearing its own name. In modem times, the town,
has been greatly improved and increased by the erec-
tiou of lines of handsome streets in the environs, the
residence of a respectable and leisurely population.
Among the attractions of the neighbourhood are those
of the New Forest, which almost adjoins the town, and
a beach forming a pleasant bathing-place in summer:
few sea-side towns are more salubrious or agreeable.
With the Isle of Wight, at a few miles' distance, there
is a constant communication by steamboats. The South-
western Railway, which terminates near the shore of
the bay, has greatly advanced the interests of the
town, by making it a depot of traflic in connection
with the metropolis ; and there are now constructing,
at a great cost, large wet-docks and wharfs for ship-
ping. A considerable trade is alreadjr carried on with
foreign countries, and the port is a main point of com-
munication between England and Guernsey, Jersey,
and Havre, in which, and some other respects, it is a
rising rival of the neighbouring town of Portsmouth.
The population in 1831 was 19,324; in 1841, 27,490.

University Cities.
Oxford, the chief of this limited class of cities, is
the principal town in Oxfordshire, and is situated in a
valley at the confluence of the Isis and Cherwell, at
the distance of .58 miles from London. Besides being
the seat of the celebrated university named from it, it
is the seat of an episcopal see. Containing twenty
colleges and five 'halls,' a cathedral, and thirteen
elegant parish churches, besides the RadcliflTe Library,
the University Theatre, and several other elegant
pub>)o buildings, all condensed into a small space,
amidst streets some of which are straight and elegant,
while none, except a few of an obscure character, are
222

mean, Oxford appears to a stranger as beautiful exter<
nally as its historic character renders it venerable.
The High Street, in which several colleges are situ-
ated, is generally acknowledged to be one of the finest
streets in the world. The origin of the university is
usually attributed, but upon no certain authority, to
King Alfred. Oxford has certainly, however, been a
famed seat of learning since the twelfth century. Each
college and hall has its own students and teachers, re-
venues and regulations ; yet they are all united under
the government of one university. The officers by
whom the university is immediately governed, are the
chancellor, hiph steward, vice-chancellor, and two proc-
tors. In addition to the private officers in each college
and hall, who see that due order and discipline are
preserved, and all the liberal sciences taught, there
are twenty-three public professors of the several arts
and sciences. In 1 844, there were 5026 members on
the books, one-third of whom, in their capacities as
fellows, &c. were maintained by the revenues. The
students wear a peculiar dress, varied according to
their status in the college. They all live within the
precincts of their respective colleges.

Cambridge is the chief town in Cambridgeshire, and
is situated on the Cam, at the distance of 50 miles
from London. It ia also an elegant city, though less
so than Oxford, The university has no certain date
before 1229 : it comprehends seventeen colleges, which
in most respects are similar to those of Oxford.
King's College Chapel, built in the reign of Henry VI.,
is considered the most beautiful structure in either
of the two university towns.

Naval Stations.

Portsmouth, the principal rendezvous of the British
nnvy, is situated on the west side of the Isle of Portsea
in Hampshire. To the west of the island is the bay
called Portsmouth Harbour, excelling every other on
the coast of England for its spaciousness, depth, and
security. The obvious utility of this harbour in such
a situation caused it to be used at an early period as a
station for shipping, and hence the rise of the town of
Portsmouth on the narrow inlet by which it communi-
cates with the English Channel. It is also to be ob-
sen'ed that the strait between the mouth of this har-
bour and the Isle of Wight, forms the celebrated road-
stead of Spithead, which is capable of containing a
thousand sail at anchor in the greatest security. The
original or old town of Portsmouth, surrounded by
ancient walls; the modem suburban towns of Portsea
and Southsea, respectively situate^ to the north and
south of the original town; and the town of Gosport,
on the opposite side of the inlet to the harbour, may
all be said to form one cluster of population, probably
numbering not less than 70,000. The beach opposite
Southsea being well adapted for sea-bathing, has been
the cause of that suburb or village becoming a watering-
place of considerable note.

The docks, arsenal, building-jrards, and y'l the va-
rious establishments concerned in the fittinff-out and ^
safe keeping of the national shipping, render Ports-
mouth an object of wonder to all who see it for the first
time. The Dockyard includes the great area of 100
acres. The Smithery is a vast building, where anchors
are wrought, weighing li-om 70 to 90 hundredweight
each. On the Anchor- Wharf hundreds of these useful
implements are piled up, ready for immediate service.
The Ropery, where the rardage for the vessels is pre-
pared, is three storeys high, 54 feet broed, and 1 094 feet
long. The Oun-Wharf is an immense arsenal, consist-
ing of various ranges of building.i for the reception of
naval and military stores, artillery, &c. The Small
Armoury is capable of contiftining 25,000 stand of arms.
There is a naval college, where a hundred sriiolars in
time of war, and seventy in time of peace, are taught;
thirty, who are the children of officers, being main-
taineid and educated at the public expense. During
war, the number of persons employed in the various
establishments connected wit& the public service at

ENGLAND AND WALES.

iful exter-
Teneiable.
are bUu-
the finert
livenity is
thority, to
er, been a
ury. Each
lachen, re-
ited under
officers by
ed, are the
1 two proc-
ach college
cipline are
ight, there
eTcral arts
lembers on
ipacitieg as
sues. The
wording to
within the

^eshire, and
)f 50 miles
though less
ertain date
;eges, which
of Oxford.
Henry VI.,
e in either

the British

e of Portsea

is the bay

sry other on

, depth, and

bour in such

period as a

the town of

t communi-

a to be ob-

)f this har-

)rated road-

ontaining a

urity. The

lunded by

of Portsea

north and

of Gosport,

,rbour, may

, probably

:h opposite

', has been

Ga watering-

liill the va-
pg-out aud
Lder Ports-
for the first
Irea of 100
pre anchors
Iredweight
liese useful
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els is pre-
11094 feet
|il, consist-
ception of
The Small
Id of arms,
holars in
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|ng main-
During
he various
Iserrice at

Portimouth has amounted to 5000. The principal
buildings connected with the arsenal and dockyards,
are the commissioner's house, the goTemment house,
ihe victualling office, the port-mlmiral's house, and
the naval and military barracks, he promenade along
the fortifications forms one of tht most agreeable fea-
tures of the town. Amongst objects of curiosity we
may specify the Victory, Nelson's flag-ship at Trafalgar;
the Semaphore Telegraph ; and the house (No. 110 High
Street) in which the Duke of Buckingham was tempo-
rarilv residing, when in front of it he was stabbed to
death by Lieutenant Felton in 1628. The church of
Portsmouth is a spacious Gothic structure, with a
comparatively modem tower, useful as a landmark to
seamen. There are various charitable, literary, and
scientific institutions connected with the town.

Plymouth is another important naval station, besides
being a thriving commercial town. It is situated at
the head of the capacious haven of Plymouth Sound
in Devonshire, on the east side of a tongue of land
formed by the estuaries of the rivers Plym and Tamar,
which here empty themselves into the sea. Essentially
connected with Plymouth is Bevonport, situated in the
immediate neighbourhood, and properly an appendage
of Plymouth, though of late years distmguished by a
separate name. The united population in 1841 was
76,699. Plymouth having gradually risen from the
condition of a small fishing-town to its present size,
most of the streets are irregular, and by no means
elegant or commodious; but the new parts of the town
are handsome, and are spreading rapidly.

Plymouth carries on a considerable trade in timber
with North America and the Baltic, and an intercourse
has been established with the West Indies. The coast-
ing-trade is chiefly with London, Newcastle, Newport
(in Wales), and Bristol. The chief imports are coal,
culm, com, wine, and timber. It is as a naval and
military station that the town is chiefly distinguished.
Situated upon a capacious and secure natural harbour,
near the mouth of the English Channel, it is well
adapted for this purpose, fleets having a ready exit
from it upon any expedition towards the Mediterra-
nean, the Indies, or America. The dock, which is
situated at Devonport (formerly on that account called
Plymouth Dock), extends along the bank of the Ta-
mar, in a curve 3600 feet in length, with a width at the
middle, where it is greatest, of 1600 feet, and at each
extremity 1000, thus including an area of 96 acres.
Of the fortifications conntsoted with Plymouth, the
most remarkable is the citadel, which was erected in
the reign of Charles II. It is placed in a most com-
manding situation on the east end of the height called
the Hoe, which shelters the town from the sea. It is
exceedingly well fortified, and is constantly garrisoned.
It contains the residence of the governor of Plymouth,
and barracks for 600 or 600 troops. The Victualling
Office, an important establishment, containing store-
houses, granaries, baking-houses, and cellars for supply-
ing the meat, bread, and liquors required to provision
the vessels of the Royal Navy, occupies a splendid
building in the adjacent township of East Stonehouse.
The port of Plymouth is distinguished for its capacity,
and the security which it affords in its several parts.
It is capable of containing 2000 sail, and is one of the
finest harbours in the world. It consists of three divi-
sions or harbours — Sutton Pool, immediately adjoin-
ing the town; C:itwater, an extensive sheet, formed by
the estuary of the Plym ; and the harbour or bay of
Hamoaze. At the mouth of these harbours^ the great
bay of Plymouth Sound forms an excellent roadstead,
which is now completely secure by the erection of the
breakwater across its entrance. [For an account of this
immense structure, see B'eakwalern, p, 432, Vol. I.]
The Eddystone Lighthouse is also an important ap-
pendage to the harbour, the entrance of which would,
without this beacon, be extremely dangerous.

The public buildings of Plymouth are — the Custom-
house, the Exchange, the Athenseum, the Public Library,
^he Theatre, the Clamical and Mathematical School, the

Mechanics' Institute, &e. Of the two parish churchef,
the most ancient is that of St Andrew, built previously
to 1291, a handsome building of the Gothic order;
Charles's Church is also a Gothic structure. Among
the charitable institutions, which are about 30, are a
workhouse, a public dispensary, an eye-infirmatv, a
lying-in diarity, a public subscription school, alms-
houses, Bible societies, &c.

Towns of Residence and Recreation.
Bath, — This is reckoned the best -built town in
England, and is a favourite residence of the higher
classes, either for recreation or in pursuit of health.
It is situated in Somersetshire, at the distance of about
108 miles west from London, and lies in a valley di-
vided by the River Avon. Though of great antiquity,
the place came into notice and rose to importance in
comparatively modem times, in consequence of pos-
sessing certam hot mineral springs, considered to be
efficacious in the cure of diflferent complaints. The
water issues from tho ground at a temperature of from
1 09° to 117° of Fahrenheit, and the quantity discharged
daily from the various outlets is 184,320 gallons. The
water has been analysed, and is found to contain sul-
phate of lime, with considerably lesser proportions of
muriate of soda, sulphate of soda, carbonic acid, and
carbonate of lime, also a minute portion of silica and
oxide of iron. It is stimulating in its properties, and
is said to be most successful in cases of palsy, rheuma-
tism, gout, and cutaneous diseases. Over the springs
there :' re elegant pump-rooms and baths. Thi modem
parts ul' the town are built as streets, crescents, and
squares, the houses being of polished sandstone, and in
some instances constructed with much taste. Li'<'<n(r
is expensive in the town during the fashionable season.
The population in 1831 was 38,063; in 1841, 62,346.

Cheltenham competes with Bath as a fashionable re-
sort for valetudinarians, real or imaginary. It is situ-
ated in Gloucestershire, 88 miles west from London,
and 39^ north-east of Bath. The situation is exceed-
ingly dulightful, being remarkably well sheltered by the
range of Coteswold Hills on the north-east, and having
an exposure to the south and west; it is on this account
preferred to all other towns in England by persons from
India and other hot climates. Besides being attractive
from the salubrity and mildness of its climate, Chelten-
ham, like Bath, possesses mineral springs reckoned of
value for medical purposes, but particularly for invalids
with diseased livero. There are several springs, some
of which are chalybeate, but their properties and
strength are liable to variation. Cheltenham is laid
out, in a very omamental manner, with walks and
pleasure-grounds, and may be described as perhaps the
prettiest town of a small size in England. As in Bath,
the expense of living is very great. The population of
tho parish in 1831 was 22,942, about one-half of whom
belonged to the town; in 1841, it was 31,207.

Briykton, on the coast of Sussex, has risen into im-
portance within the last sixty years, partly in conse-
quence of a beach remarkably well adapted for sea-
bathing, and partly from i.'-s attracting the regard of
George Prince of Wales, who reared a marine palace
here in a Chinese style. The population in 1831 was
40,634; in 1841,48,567. Brighton is an elegant and
airy town, with much to render it agreeable as a place
of residence for persons in affluent circumstances. The
Steyne, a spacious and beautiAil lawn, nearly sur-
rounded by houses, the Marine Parade, and several
terraces overlooking the sea, furnish delightful walks;
while the Baths, Theatre, Assembly Rooms, jScc. form
additional attractions. There is a regular intercourse
with Dieppe by steam-vessels. The Chain-Pier is a
remarkable object: it was erected in 1B23 at an expense
of £30,000, is 1134 feet long, 13 feet in breadth^ and
is supported on four clusters of piles.

Amongst other towns of this class, we can only notice
Heme Bay, Margate, and >Ramsgale, situated on the
coast of Kent, and which may be considered as the
chief places of cummer lecnation for the inhabitants of

223

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

London, to and frora which •teainers ply daily. Heme
Bay is a place of rocent date, rising into notice, and
posseuiug a pleasant open beach, with space for pro-
menading. Margate is a town of a much earlier date,
situated in an open part of a bold line of chalky cliffs,
and consists of a confuBe' cluster of streets, with some
lines of building of a more airy description in the en-
virons. The town is well supplied with shops, bazaars,
and places of amusement during the bathing-season; it
also possesses numerous respectable buardin^-houses,
where, on moderate terms, a person may i-eude for a
short time in a very agreeable manner. At these houses,
parties of pleasure are made up for the day, the ex-
pense of cars and refreshments during the excursion
Deing defrayed by general contribution. Within a mile
or two along the coast is another summer retreat called
Broadstaira; and beyond it, at an equal distance, is
Kamsgute. The chalk clitfs here, which are bold niid
precipitous, afford a high and salubrious position for
the chief part of the ^own, and beneath there is a fine
tract of sandy beach for the use of bathers. The har-
bour at Kamsgate id one of the best in England, and
affords shelter to all kinds of vescels in the Downs,

Cathedral Towns.

Of this class of towns, besides those which have been
already noticed under other heads, we can here only
lulvert to three of more than usual importance: —

Canterbury, the capital of Kent, is a city of great
antiquity, having formed the seat of an ecclesiastical
establishment to St Augustine, the apostle of Christi-
anity to Britain in the sixth century. In the tenth and
eleventh centuries, the towa derived great importance
from the erection or extension of a cathedral, on a most
extensive scale, and of the purest Gothic architecture.
In 1 1 62, the archiepiscopal see was bestowed on the
famous Becket, who enjoyed it eight years, till the
period of his murder in !170, when his shrine became
an object of extraordinary reverciice, and brought pil-
grims in thousands from all parts of the kingdom. The
cathedral, which thus became celebrated, still exists,
in a slightly-altered and improved condition. Its form
is that tf a cross, with a central tower of unrivalled
workmanship, reaching to a height of 236 feet. The
size of the building is iinmenH«: the length inside,
from east to west, being 514 feet; height of tho vaulted
roof, 80 feet; breadth of the nave and side aisles, 71
feet; and breadth of the cross aisles, from north to
south, 124 feet. The interior exhibits a number of
interesting monuments of distinguished individuals.
Altogether, the cathedral is a work of exceeding gran-
deur, and, with exquisite i>eauty of form, possesses a
profound historical mterest. The town of Canterbury
18 old, and, like most cathedral towns, is a dull and
foimal place of residence, with a proportion of genteel
inhabitants. It is, however, neat and clean, and is
surrounded by a fertile and pleasant tract of country.
It has a number of large hotels and posting-houses, to
accommodate the numerous travellers passing between
the metropolis and Dover, the chief out-port ror France.
The distance from London is fifty-six miles, and from
Dover sixteen. The only object of attraction in the
town besides the cathedral, is a pleasure-ground called
the Danejohn, a corruption ot' the word donjon, such a
building having once occupied the spot in connection
with the city walls. The area of the f.eid is laid out
with an avenue of trees, and is principally otherwise a
grassy esplanade, open freely to all the inhabitants. In
1 7!)0, the field was prei ;nted by Mr Alderman Jamej
Simmonds for the use ai 1 recreation of the inhabitants
in all time coming — pv act of generosity deserving tho
highest commendation. The mpulatiou of Canterbury
in 1831 was 14,463; in 1841, 15,422.

Yoyk is considered as the second city in the kingdom
ill point of dignity — the chief town of the county, and
the cathedral city of the archiepiscopal diocese bearing
its name — is situated at the confluuiioe of the rivers
Foss and Orse, in one '^f the richest and most extensive
plains in England. Its population in 1031 was 25,35!>:
224

in 1841, 30,152. York, whatever its first rise might
be, was a city of the Romans, and occupied by Roman
citizens as a colony. It was successively tho seat of
Adrian, Severus, and other emperors: Severus died here
in the year 210. At the time of tho Norman Conquest,
it was a city of considerable consequence and size. This
eminence it retained for several centuries, but latterly
it has sunk into a mere county and cathedral town ;
that is to say, a ^lace where a considerable number of
legal and ecclesiastical functionaries reside, and from
which articles of necessity and luxury are diffused over
a neighbouring rural district.

It is entered by four principal gates or bars, has six
bridges, a cathedral, twenty -three churches, besides
places of worship for various dissenting bodies; a guild-
hall, county-hall, and other public buildings. The most
remarkable object by many degrees is the Cathedral, or
Minster, a most superb specimen of the Ootbic archi-
tecture, nieasuring in length 5244- feet; in breadth across
the transepts, 222 feet ; the nave being in height W,
and the grand tower 213 feet. The various parts were
built at different times between 1227 and 1377. The
parts most admired are the east window, and the screen
dividing the choir from the body of the church. This
window consists of upwards of 200 compartments of
stained glass, containing representations of the Supreme
Being, saints, and events recorded in Scripture. The
screen is a piece of carved wood-work in a highlv-oma-
mental style. The chapter-house is also much admired :
it is a magnificent structure, of an octagonal form, 63
feet in diameter, and 68 feet in height. York Minster
has within the last ten years twice suffered severely
from fire. The damage produced on the first occasion
— namely, the destruction of the wooden work in the
choir — was completely and successfully repaired; that
which took place on the second occasion, and which
consisted of tho destruction of the interior of one of the
smaller towers and the roof of the nave,, has also been
repaired. York was at one time a commercial town
of some importance, conducting trade by means of the
river Ouse, which is navigable for vessels of 120 tons
burthen. It still possesses a few small manufactures.

Winchester, a town of great antiquity in Hampshire,
at the distance of 62 miles from London, is situated in
the bottom of a rich grassy vale, through which flows
the Itchin, a small river which issues into the sea at
Southampton. There was a town here before the Chris-
tian era, and it afterwards became the principal city
of the Danish, Saxon, and Norman dynasties. It was
the scene of Alfred and Canute's glories ; and here,
with innumerable princes, bishops, and abbots, they lie
interred. Till the revolution, it continued a chief place
of residence of the royal family ; a palace built by the
Stuarts is now used as a barrack for soldiers. In the
reign of Edward III. (1366), Winchester became tho
episcopal see of the celebrated William of Wykeham,
who great'.j' improved the cathedral, and instituted a
college for the cducatinn of youth. The cathedral has
undergone various mutations; but being lately repaired
and cleaned, is now one of the finest structures of the
kind in Britain. The splendid mausoleum of William
of Wykeham, in ono of its aisles, is an object of great
interest. At a short distance from the cathedral are
placed the venerable buildings composing the College
of Wykeham, at which a number of young gentlemen
are educated and prepared for the university. Another
highly-interesting object of antiquity is the Hospital
of St Cross, situated about a mile down the Itchin.
Founded by Henry de Blois, bishop of Winchester,
and brother of King Stephen, in 1136, St Cross is the
most perfect specuuen remaining in England of the
conventual establishments of the middle ages, and
affords a residence and means of subsistence to thirteen
indigent old men. Winchester is composed of a variety
of old streets, and seems among the least improved
towns in England. Latterly it has been inspired with
a little animation, by becoming a station on the line
of the London and Southampton Railway. Population
in 1831,9212; in 1841,9370.

SCOTLAND.

aERM AN

^ OCEAN

iVHMatlo

Scotland, one of the component parts of Great Bri-
tain, occupies the northern, the smaller, and less fertile
portion of that island. It lies between lat. 54° 38' and
58° 40' north, and between long. 1° 46' and 6° 4' west,
or, including the Hebrides, 7° 44' west. It is thus
washed on ^he west and north by the Atlantic, and on
the east by the German Ocean; and on the south is
bounded by England, the Sol way Firth, and part of
the Irish Sea. Its coast-line presents the most fantas-
tic irregularities: here jutting into the ocean in high
narrow peninsulas, there receding far inland, in lake-
like gulfs, and again suddenly starting seaward, and
breaking into X number of bold rocky headlands. Its
greatest length, from the Mull of Galloway on the
south to Dunnet Head on the north, is about 280 miles;
its breadth is variable, being about 146 miles between
Buchan Ness in Aberdeenshire and the extreme point
of Ross -shire on the west, but diminishing to little
more than 30 miles between the Firths of Forth and
Clyde. The entire surface is estimated at 30,094 square
miles, of which 26,014 are mainland, and 4080 insular,

SUPERFICIAL FEATURES.

Superficially, the country may be described as moun-
tainous and rugged — its central and southern districts,
however, exhibit less of this character; hence the com-
mon distinction of Highlands and Lotolands. A line
drawn from Aberdeen to Glac-'ow may be regarded as
the boundary between the two regions — the former a
country full of romantic scenery, savage precipitous
mountains, lakes, dreary moorlands, rushing streams,
deep glens, and wild hanging woods; the latter being
less elevated and irregular, but still presenting several
considerable mountain-ranges, A more correct division,
perhaps, would be into northern, central, and southern
regions: the first comprising the Highlands proper; the
second that triangular space enclosed by the line drawn
from Aberdeen to Glasgow, and another line formed
by the courses of the Clyde and Twesd ; and the third
region all the counties to the south-west of these rivers.

The principal mountain-rauges and groups are : — 1.
Those north of the Caledonian Canal, an irregular and
rugged conformation, of which the highest points are
No. 65.

Ben More, Ben Wyvis, and Ben Attow— the last 400(1
feet. 2. The Grampians, a well-detinod, but branching
range running across the country — the highest peaks of
which are Ben Cruachan, Ben Nevis, Ben Avon, Caini-
gorum, Caimtoul, and Ben Macdhui-the last 4390
feet. 3, The Central or Lowland Group, the component
chains of which are the Ochil, Sidlaw, Cainpsie, Lo-
mond, Pentland, and Lammermuir Hills — the highest
point being Ben Clach in Clackmannan, 2359 feet. 4.
The Cheviots, with their continuation the Lowthers,
&c. that form the great water-shed of Southern Scot<
land, none of which exceed 2700 feet. All thest; chains
or groups cross the country, and preserve a wonderfUI
degree of parallelism : indeed, taking the Forth as thtf
central depression of a vast trough, the edges of which
are formed respectively by the Grampians and Che-
viots, all the other hill-ranges, both geologically and
in point of altitude, may be looked upon as so many
descending steps to the centre.

There are no great plains in Scotland, a feature not
to be expected from the limited extent and pecolior
configuration of the country. There are, however, ft
number of considerable valleys, known as carses, straths;
haughs, and dales, intermediate between the mountain'
ranges; and these form, as it were, the granaries of the
country. The principal of these are, Strathmore— that
is, 'Great Valley' — lying between the Grampians Mid
Ochils, and extending through part of Perth, Forfar,
and Kincardine; the Carse of Oowrie on the notth of
the Tay; Strathearn, lying along the course of the Earn
to where it joins the Tay; the Carse of Stirling and
Falkirk, in the valley of the Forth; the Howe of Fife,
lying along the Eden ; Clydesdale ; and the Merse of
Berwick, The cultivated grounds, which form scarcely
a third of the whole surface, chiefly lie in tracts sloping
to the sea-coast, and in the lower parts of these vales.
The less precipitous hilly districts are chiefly occupied
as pastoral ground for sheep and cattle. Wood, which
once covered a large portion of the surface, is now
chiefly confined to the neighbourhood of gentlemen's
seats, and to plantations which have been raised withi::.
the last sixty years for the protection of arable lands
from the cold easterly and north-easterly winds.

OEOLOOICAL STRUCTURE,

The rock formations of the country commence with
the earliest primaries, n I if we except a few insigni-
ficant and dubious patt .ea, terminate with the coal-
measures, or the immediately overlying new red sand-
stone. The Highlands constitute one of the best
examples of a primary country, whose strata are con-
torted and disrupted into a thousand irregularities by
effusions of granite, greenstone, and other early igneous
rocka ; and with the exception of a small secondary
basin in the plain of the Tweed and along the Solway
Firth, the same remark is applicable to all the southern
mountainous part of the country. The secondary for-
mations — old red sandstone, carboniferous limestone,
and coal-measures, with their associated traps and
basalts — occupy the central portions of the country,
forming a broad band, which is bounded on the north
by a line drawn from Stonehaven to the mouth of the
Clyde, and on the south by one drawn from Dunbar to
Girvan in Ayrshire. In this banc* or trough, which
slopes from both sides to the Forth and Clyde, occur
the coal, limestone, aad ironstone, which, within the
last thirty years, have so much contributed to the
commercial advancement o.' Scotland.

The chief mineral produ » of the country consists of
excellent granite, as that of Aberdeen and Kirkcud-
bright ; marble, as that Trom Assynt ; slate from Balla-
hulish, &c,; limestone in almost every county; building

225

OHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

•tonM of flnt-rate quality, m thoie of Fife wid Mid-
Lotliian; coal from the exteniive fieldi of Fife, Mid-
Lothian, Linlithgow, Stirling. Lanark and Ayr; iron-
■tone in moat of thwie coal-fleldg, but principally in
Lanark and Fife; lead mainly from the Lowther range;
■ilrer i» extracted in imall quantities from the lead;
■trontian in found in Argyle ; antimony in Ayrshire;
alum ii obtained in large quantities from the ooal-
■hales near Campsie; clay, for tiles and bricks, is found
abundantly; and several of the precious stones, as
garnet, rock-crystal, and agate.

HTDROORAFHT.

The ff*^», ^lf>f *traits, kc. as already hinted, are
extremely numerous and intricate. On the east the
principal are — Dornoch Firth, a large open expanse of
water; Cromarty Firth, of considerable depth, and ao
completely landlocked, that it would form one of the
finest harbours in the world; Moray Firth, running far
inland, and communicating, by means of the Caledo-
nian Canal, with the Atlantic Ocean ; the Firth of Tay,
navigable for large vessels to Dundee, and to smaller
crait to Perth; and the Firth of Forth, running inland
for fifty miles, presenting several subordinate bays,
containing a number of indifferent harbours, and navi-
gable for ships of any burden to Alloa, and for small
steamers to Stirling. On the south and west coasts
there are — the large shallow estuary of the Solway;
Wigton Bay; Iiuce Bay; the importf.3t Firth of Clyde,
with its several picturesque lochs, navigable for large
vessels as far as Glasgow Bridge, and communicating
with the Forth by means of a canal. To the north of
this the indentations and creeks vernacularly called
loehs and sounds become so numerous and complicated,
that their figure and extent will be best comprehended
by referring to the map.

The capet, or, as they are locally styled, ' heads and
nesses,' are equally numerous. The principal are —
Cape Wrath, Dunnet Head, and Duncansby Head, on
the north ; Tarbet Ness, Troup Head, Kinnaird's Head,
Buchm Neiis, Buddon Ness, Fife Ness, and St Abb's
Head, on the east; Southemess, Burrow Head, and
the Mull of Oallowry. on the south; CorsUl Point,
Mull of Cantire, Mull of Oe, Point of Rinns, Ardna-
murchan, and Stoir Point, on the west; Aird Point,
in Skye; Barra Head and the Butt of Lewis, vespec-
tively the southern and northern extremities of the
Hebrides; and Sumburgh Head, the most southerly
projection of the Shetland islands. Most of these
neadlands are the sites of lighthouses or beacons, and
form important objects to the navigator.

The iilandt and outlying rocks connected with Scot-
land constitute one of its most characteristic features
— forming, as they do, nearly a sixth part of the esti-
mated area of the country. Their value, however, is
by no means proportionate to their extent — most of
them having rugged coasts and bare hilly surfaces,
exposed to the injurious influences of the sea-breezes.
The east coast presents no islands, with the exception
of those in the Firth of Forth, the chief of which are
Inchoolm, Inchkeith, and the Isle of May, the two last
being surmounted by lighthouses. At the entrance of
the Forth is the Bass Kock, a singular basaltic mass,
rising perpendicularly from the sea to the height of
400 feet, bearing a scanty herbage, which pastures a
few sheep, and being the favourite resort of the gannet
or solan goose. About twelve miles east of Buddon
Ness lies the Bell-Rock, or Inchcape, a dangerous ledce,
about 850 yards in length and 110 in brea<lth, wholly
covered at high water. Ou this a lighthouse, after the
model of the Eddystone, was erected in 1810, the lan-
tern of which is 90 feet above the highest spring-tides.
The islands on the west coast may be conveniently
arranged into three great groups — those in the Firth
of Clyde; the Inner Hebrides, which, like Skye, Mull,
&c. Ue adjacent to '.he mainland ; and the Outer
Hetmdes, separated from the mainland by the wide
channel of Ute Minch. The islands of the Clyde are
Bute, about 18 mL°< in length by 5 iu breadth, high
228

and nigged towards the north, but of gentler aspect and
milder climate on the southern par^ — so much so as
to be regarded as the Isle of Wight of Scotland; Arran,
a large oval island, about 18 miles by 12, conaistiiig of
high heath-clad hills, fully 3000 feet in height, and
celebrated for their geological phenomena ; the two
Cumbraes; and Ailsa Craig, an isolated mass, 15 miles
off the coast of Ayr, about 2 miles in circumference,
and rising to a height of 1000 feet, pastured by a
number of goats, and a favourite breeding-place for
sea-fowl. The chief of the Inner Hebrides are Skye,
Raasay, Rum, and £ig, belonging to Inverness; and
Mull, Isla, Jura, Tiree, loiia, celebrated for its eccle-
siastical associations, and Staifa, to Argyle. The Outer
Hebrides, or Western Isles, forming a high range about
140 miles long, consist of Lewis, Harris, North Uist,
Benbecula, South Uist, Barra, &c. — all decided)y rugged
and barren, and in many places covered with exten-
sive tracts of muir and moss; Skerry vore, a dangerous
group of rocks, lying far seaward, and all but covered
at highwater, is now the site of a lighthouse, exposed
to the weight and fury of the Atlantis waves.

On the north are two distinct crrups of the Orkney
and Shetland islands; the former being separated from
the mainland by the Pentland Firth, m which lie
Stroma, the Skerries, and other rocky islets; and the
latter from the former by a channel 48 miles across, in
the middle of which stands Fair Isle. The Orkneys
consist of about sixty-seven islands, of which forty are
uninhabited, the rest tolerably fertile, and the whole
occupying an area of 281,600 acres. The Shetlaiids are
about 100 in number, of which a great proportion are
untenanted — the whole exposing a wild rugged surface
of 563,000 acres to an ungenial clime.

The lakes ot fresh-water lochs of Scotland are nume-
rouo; and, like most sheets of water occupying irregular
mountain gorges and valleys, are all lesu or more cele-
brated for picturesque scenery. In the southern por-
tion of the country there are few of any size — Lochs
Ken, Cree, Doon, and St Mary's being the principal:
in the central or true Lowland district there are still
fewer, Lochleven in Kinross — celebrated for its histori-
cal associations with Mary, and now for its delicious
trout — being the largest; but in the northern or High-
land region they are not only numerous, but extensive.
Loch Lomond, forming the boundary between Dumbar-
ton and Stirling, and discharging its waters into the
Clyde by the river Leven, is by far the lat;gest of Bri-
tish lakes, being about 24 miles long, and varying
from 1 to 7^ in width; its depth from 100 to 300 feet.
The lochs of Argyleshire — Awe, Lydoch, Shiel, &c —
are also of large dimensions, but present less beauty;
the same may oe remarked of those in Inverness-shire
— Ness, Laggan, Ericht, Arkaig, Quoich, &c. ; of those
in Ross — Maree, Faimich, &c.; and of those in Suther-
land — Shin, Naver, Hope, &c. The lakes of Perth-
shire, as a whole, are the most celebrated for their pic-
turesque beauty, the associated hills, passes, water-
falls, and shaggy woodlands, presenting ncenery, ac-
cording to the estimation of some^ unequalled by any
other in Europe ; the chief are Katrine, Voil, Earn,
Tay, Rannoch, Tummel, and Garry. (See p. 229.)

The rivers in this part of Great Britain, owing to the
rugged and mountainous character of the country, pre-
sent very difl^erent features from those in the southern
section. None of them has the sluggish aspect of the
English rivers, nor does their course lie through broad
level valleys ; but descending from high mountains,
and cutting for themselves deep channels, they are
often interrupted by rapids and waterfalls, and in con-
sequence, with two or three exceptions, they ore of no
use to navigation. Beginning with those on the east,
the principal are — the Findhom aiid Spey, descending
from the north slope of the Grampians, both extremely
rapid in their flow, and Bubjecv to sudden and destruc-
tive floods; the Don and Dee, also Grampian rivers of
some extent, but unnavigable; the Tay, the largest of
Scottish rivers, fed by a number of mountain tribu-
taries, narigabU, «■ uat been atated, to Perth ; tb.e

--/ N

SCOTLAND.

Forth, with iti afflaenti Teith, DeTon, &c. naTigable to
Stirling for Tesaels of leventy tons ; aud the Tweed,
with its numerous tributaries or * waters,' rendered
famous in Border song, also unnavigable. On the
west, the only river oi note is the Clyoe, having also a
number of affluents. The most celebrated watmJaU*

while others, as the pilchard, maclcerel, and white bidt,
are scarcely known. The domesticated animals are
now for the most part crossed with the larger aud finer
varieties of the south; but Scotland still retains several
breeds peculiarly suitable to its soil aud climate — as
the Clydesdale, Galloway, and Shetland breeds oi the

connected with these rivers are those of Clyde, the horse; the Ayr, Fife, Angus, and West ^ighland breeds

Gray-mare's-tail on the Moifat-water, the Caldron Linn
on the Devon, and the Falls of Foyers in Invemese-
■hire; for descriptions of which see the section devoted
to Remarkable Natural Scenery.

Of limpid and copious springs no country can pos-
sess a more liberal supply; but few of tiem wra of
mineral or mediciiial celebrity — Pitcaithly in Strath-
eam, Dumblane, Airthrey, St I nard's near Edin-
burgh, Innerleithen, and Mofi'at, ijeing tLose that are
in anyway frequented by invalids.

CLIHiLTB.

The climate of Scotland is more severe than that of
England; 'but'— we quote M'CuUoch—' owing to the
proximity of most parts of the country to the sea, and
the numerous firths and deep bays by which it is pene-
trated, it is less severe than might, from the latitude,
be expected. The mean annual temperature of places
near the level of the ocean, throughout the country,
averages about 46*° Fahrenheit. At Edinburgh, which
is ftom 300 to 400 feet above the sea-level, the mean
temperature of the year is 47° 8', which may be taken
as that of the inland parts generally in the south
of Scotland, the mean of the coldest month being
88° 3', and of the warmest 59° 4'. A great deal of rain
falls in Scotland, but very une<^ually; for on the east
coast it ranges from 22 to 28 inches, whereas on the
west coast and the Hebrides, it ranges from 30 to 44
inches. The average fall of rain in Edinburgh is 23^
inches, and in Glasgow about 29'65 inches. Excess of
humidity, and the occurrence of heavy rains in August,
September, and October, and of cold piercing east
winds, especially along the east coast in the months
of April, May, and the first half of June, are the great
drawbacks in the climate of Scotland.' Compared with
that of England, it is cold, cloudy, and wet; yet the
teniperature is not liable to such great extremes as
that of either England or France, seldom falling below
25° Fahrenheit, or rising above 65°, the annual average
being from 45° to 47°. The summer is uncertain, and
often comprehends many consecutive weeks of ungenial
weather; but, on the other hand, the winters — consider-
ing the latitude — are rarely severe, and often include
many agreeable days, and even weeks.

BOTANT ANL ZOOLOOT.

The plants and animals of the country are, generally
speaking, specifically the same as those of England,
but exhibit somewhat more of a boreal character, as
might be exp «ted from the higher latitude and alti-
tude of the land. Thus many of the ornamental shrubs
and exotic trees which adorn the lawns of England
will not flourish unless in very favoured localities; the
usual forest-trees attain to perfection in the Lowlands,
but many of them are unable to resist the rieorous
climate of the Highlands, where the native Scotch pine
and birch grow at a very high elevation. But even
there a limit is found to all timber-trees ; and large
tracts of the mainland, and almost all the islands, are
utterly treeless. Tue common cultivated grains are
grown profitably, and to great extent, in the Lowlands;
but oats, and a coarse variety of barley (bigg), are the
only cereals grown in the Highlands and islands.

The native animals present similar diflferences. The
stag, roe, and wild cat are thoroughly /eree natune on
the northern hills; game-birds, as tne partridge, grouse,
ptarmigan, woodcock, blackcock, capercailzie — are pecu-
liarly abundant in the same localities; Scotland pos-
sesses fewer species of fresh-water fish, but has the
salmon, trout, pike, and perch in greater abundance
than in England; many of the maroie animals, cetacea,
herring, cod, and other white £sh, are more plentiful;

of the ox; the Cheviot sheep of the luuth, and thu
black-faced hardy wether of the north.

PBOPLE— POPULATION.

The population of Scotland is readily divisible into
two great sections — the Lowlanders or Scotch proper,
and the Highlanders or Celts. The former, liJce the
English, are of the Teutonic race, but consist of an
G^lmixture of Picts, Saxons, Danes^ and Scandinavians.
They occupy the whole of the Lowlands and the eastern
coast -fringe of the Highlands, speaking a variety or
dialect of the English language. They are described
generally as a tall, large-boned, and muscular race,
with features less round and soft than the modem
English, and with a larger and more elongated cranium.
The Highlanders, on the other hand, are of Celtic
origin; and though their language is gradually giving
way to that of the Lowlanders, in other respects they
retain all the peculiarities of that race.

The Scottish character exhibits a considerable share
of both energy and perseverance. It may safely be
said that a country with so many physical disad-
vantages could never have been brought into such a
condition as respects rural husbandry, nor, with all
the advantage of the English connection, been made
so prosperous a seat of both manufactures and com*
merce, if the people had not been gifted in a high
degree with those qualities, A disposition to a frugal
and careful use of means is also abundantly conspi-
cuous in the Scotch. The poorest poor, at least in
rural districts, are in few instances of such improvi-
dent habits as to exhibit that destitution of furniture,
clothing, and tolerable house accommodation, which
meets the eye almost everywhere in Ireland. Caution,
foresight, and reflection, may be said to enter largely
into the Scottish character. Under the influence of
these qualities, they are slow, and sometimes cold in
speech, and are thert,fore apt to appear as deficient in
frankness and generosity. These, however, are in a
great measure only appearances. That perfervidum inge-
nium, or fiery genius attributed to them by Buchanan,
is still a deep-seated characteristic of the people. On
subjects which they regard as important, they some-
times manifest this excitabilitv m a very striking
manner; as, for instance, in their almost universal
rising against Charles I. in defence of their favourite
modes of worship and ecclesiastical polity. Generous
afliections, in which, as compared with the English, the
Scotch might appear deficient, perhaps only take in
their case somewhat diflferent directions. They cherish
more than most people a feeling of attachment for
their native country, and even the particular district
and spot of their birth ; for their remote as well as im-
mediate kindred, and for eveiything which reminds
them of what is honourable in the doings of those who
went before them. A strong sense of religion is a con-
spicuous feature in the Scottish national character;
clear, however, from all regard to external, and what
appear to them unimportant things connected with it.
There is no country where a more decent attention ia
paid to the Sabbath than in Scotland. It may at the
same time be remarked, that their religion is more doc-
trinal than directly venerative or sentimental — a pecu-
liarity which may be traced in the plainness of their
forms of worship, as either its cause or its effect. There
is a considerable tendency in the Scottish intellect to
argumentative reasoning, and this shows itself in tho
service in their churches as well as in their philosophi-
cal literature. The domestic virtues flourish in much
the same degree in Scotland as in England; but the
humbler classes in North Britain are not quite so re-
markable for cleanliness as the lower English. The

22r

■^r^

OHAMBEBCrg INFORMATION FOR TH£ PEOPLE.

rural labouri«g-clM»ei «• dUtingulih«d for their ttoady
induitry and decent conduct ; and it it onlv perhap*
amongst the lower ordere in lar«e towne '.hat much
moral deteriomtion hte taken piw.e. lor centuriei
the adveiituroat di«po«ition of the aksotch haa been
kcmarlcablo. An iniraenM number of young person!
every year leare their natire country to puah their for-
tune in the busier English cities, in public employment
in India, in the colonies, or in other parts of the world.
TheM persons havo generally a tolerable education in
proportion to their rank and prospects ; and being
found possessed of steadiness, fidelity, and perseverance,
thny raraPy fail to improve their circumstances. We
are hero reminded of the advantage which Scotland
has long enjoyed in the possession of a universally-dif-
fusei' means of elementary instruction. This, though
in some respects over-estimated, has at least insured
that nearly every pcrxon reared in Scotland is not
without some tincture of literature. (See No. 62, p.
100, for details respecting the religious and educational
establishments of Scotland.)

NATIONAL iNDuarnv.

The productive industry of the country haa increased
prodigiously within the current century. AgrioaUu-
rally, the value of the land has been more than doubled
within the last seventy years, and this in spite of those
obstacles which render so much of the surface unap-
proachable by the plough. The system of forming,
under leases of nineteen years, is at once exact and
scientific, aided b^ the best-constructed machines, and
by chemical skill m soils, drainage, and the application
of artificial manures. Taking into account crops,
pastures, gardens, and woodlands, the total value of
the land produce has been estimated at £29,327,000,
independent of the unascertained value of cattle, sheep,
wool, and dairy produce. Generally speaking, the
fisheries of Scotland are profit.-.bly conducted, the
salmon of the rivers and estuaries yielding from
;£ 120,000 to £160,000 annually; the herring -fishery
producing from 600,000 to 660,000 barrels; the cod and
white-fish fisheries very large, but unknown amounts;
oyster and lobster-dredging also of considerable value;
besides minor fishings, and the accidental Btraudinga
of large shoals of the smaller cetacea.

The manufacturing progress of Scotland has been ex-
tremely rapid .uid gratifying. The cotton manufacture,
valued at £5,UO0,0O0 annually, chiefly centres in Glas-
gow and Paisley ; the woollen at Hawick, Galashiels,
Kilmarnock, and Aberdeen; linen in the towns of For-
far and Fife; papermaking in Mid-Lothian and Fife;
gloves, hosiery, hats, and minor soft wares, in several
localities. In iron -founding, Scotland haa now a large
and prosperous trade, principally in the counties of
Lanark and Stirling; steam-engines and machinery of
every description are extensively constructed; and some
of the iron ahip-yarda on the Clyde are unrivalled.
Typefouuding, printing, and publishing, are largely
carried on in Edinburgh. Leather, chemicals for the
bleacher, dyer, &c., glass-wares, soap, and the like, are
the other principal manufactured products. Distilling
and brewing constitute a considerable portion of the
trade of the country — the whisky and alea so produced
having long had an extensive celebrity.

The commerce has more than kept pace with the ma-
nufactures; the mercantile navy of Scotland, exclusive
of passenger steamers and the like, numbering 3600
vessels, with an aggregate burthen of 440,000 tons. In
1843 there were I'iti steamers, with a burthen of 19,422
tons. The intertutl communication of the country is
carried on by first-rate macadamised roads; by canala,
of which there are 150 milea; and by railwaye, of
which about 600 miles are constructed, or in courae of
eouatruction. (See No. 62, p. 188.)

GOVERNMENT— ADMINISTRATION.

The government of the country, since the Union in
1707, has been identical in its leading features with
that of England. (See No. 62, p. 177.) The lair-courta,
228

howeTer,both civil and criminal, are much more aimpi*
and efiicient than thoae of tho sister kingdoms. For
administrative purposes, Scotland is divided into 38
shires or sheriffdoms, comprising 1023 parishes. In the
following table, the counties are arranged alphabeti-
cally, with their areas in statute acres, population ac-
cording to census 1841, and county towns: —

Counties.

Acres.

Population.

County Towns.

Abcrdoon, - ■

1,!S4,400

192,288

Aberdeen.

AfKylo, - . ■ -

i!,0Ui,«)O

97,140

Invemry.

Ayr, . - - -

6«4,9<ia

164,822

Ayr.

lliinff, - - - -

412,800

80,078

KunfT.

llvrwtck, - - •

SSS.SHO

34,427

UroonlitW.

Ituto,

103,040

18,695

Kothnoy.

Caithness, - ■

430,810

36,197

Wiek.

Clnckmnnnan, -

80,720

19,116

Alloa.

Cromarty, - • •

1A3,H40

11:362

Cromarty.

Dumbarton, - ■

145,820

44,295

Dumbarton.

Dumfrii J, - • •

801,020

72,823

Dumft-ii s,

Edinburgh,- - -

228,860

223,823

EoiNBunuH.

Klgta, - - - .

.102,720

.<U,994

Elgin.

Klfo,

298,880

140,310

Cupar.

Forfar, . - . -

M8,320

170,400

Forbr.

Haddington, • •

174,060

33,731

Haddington.

InvcrncBH, - • -

2,804,980

97,615

InvemexK.

Kincardine, - -

243,200

83,082

HtoUchuven.

Kinross, - - •

48,080

8,763

Kinnwa.

Kirlfciidbrlght, -

823,780

41,099

KirkcudbrlgUU

Lanark, - • -

604,880

427,113

Lanark.

Linlithgow, > -

76,800

2fi,H48

Linlithgow.

Nairn

124,800

11.218

Nairn.

Orkney & Shetland,

819,200

60,790

Kirkwall.

Peebles, - - -

204,180

10,520

PeebluH.

Perth, - - - -

1,886,320

138,131

Perth.

Renfrew, - - -

144,000

134,735

Ptigley.

Ross,

1,682,880

67,618

Tain.

Itoxburgh, - -

487,800

40,008

Jedburgh.

Holkirk, ■ ■ - .

168,320

7,899

Selkirk.

Stirling, - - -

312,960

82,179

Stirling.

Hutherlnnd, - -

1,122,860

24,686

Dornoch.

Wigtoh, - - -

288,960

89,179

Wigton.

Total, - . -

18,944,000

2,820,810

A(>f<.— The word Scotland Is of dubious and disputed origin i
all that la known for certain being, that tho term Scoti was
applied to the PictUh inhabitants of tho western comer of tho
country so early as the second century. The topographical
nomenclatiuv Is chiefly Celtlu and Saxon ; hence the ITequent
occurrenoo of the fbllowing prefixes and terminations x—Ben,
mountain ; brat, highland ; fill, moigitaln ; law, mount ; dun,
hill; cairn, heap of stones, or stony hill; craig, rocky height;
ard or aird, headland or height; ntu, promontory; itrath, large
valley; glen, steep narrow valley; blair, open field or plain ; aber,
Inver, auchter, at tho mouth or confluence of a river ; kil, cell or
church; ba{, dwelling or town ; kat, kin, head or height; inch.
Island ; more, largo ; and so on.

REMARKABLE SCENERY — NATUR>'. CURIOSITIES.

The comparatively irregular surface of Scotland, or,
as a geologist would remark, its being more generally
formed of the primitive and early rocks, haa caused tho
existence of much picturesque and romantic scenery,
the attractions of wnich have been greatly heightened
of late years by the works of the native poets and
novelists, particularly Sir Walter Scott. The Highlands
may be said to fonu one wide tract of such scenery,
though some parts are considerably more beautiful
than others. The finer scenery in Scotland generally
lies along the beda of lakea or the rales of rivera. Tho
chief tracts are the following: —

Lower Perthshire.
The Tro*'xh» and Loch Katrine, — This is a beautiful
district, t'tuated at the distance of little more than
25 milea irom Stirling, and remarkable aa the scenery
of Scott 'a 'Lady of the Lake.' It may be said to
commence at the large Lowland village of Callander,
which ia only 16 miles from Stirling. This village
lies in the bosom of the valley of the Teith, with lofty
hills on all sides except the east, and apparently occu>
pying the last patch of level ground before the traveller
enters the Highlands. The sunounding scenery is woif.

SCOTtAND.

iiora limpU
iloniR. For
ed into 3S
ei. Ill the
alphabet!-
>ulation ao

lunty Towns.

bcrdcon,
ivurury,

unir.

roonlnwr.

othnay.

Uoo.

roninrty.
iiiiiibHrton.
luinfric s.

iDINBUnuH.

:i«in.

'iipar.

"orftir.

laddiiiRtnn.

nvenieBd.

ilonvliiivon.

vinrom.

vlrkcudbrlght.

^anurk.

,lnllthgow.

Sulm.

IvlrkwHll.

fuebluH.

Purth.

[•alsley.

rain.

ledbiirgh.

Selkirk.

Stirlirg.

Dornoch.

Wigton.

Inni

tuted origin!
m ScoH was
corner of tlio
topographical
the frequent
latlons -.—Ben,
mount; dun,
rooky height;
itralh, large
plain ; aUr,
er; kit, cell or
height; inch.

OSITIBS.

Scotland, or,
e generally
caused tho
tic scenery,
heightened
poets and
Highlands
.cb scenery,
beautiful
generally
ivers. Tho

A beautiful

more than

Ihe scenery

|be said to

J Callander,

fhis village

, with lofty

ently occu-

^e traveller

leiy is woi;.

thy of being explored; two places, in particular, should
be Tisited. The first is the P<Ul of Braeklin, situated
amonz the hills, a. the distance of a mile and a-half in
a nortn-easterly direction from tho village. It consists
of a series of cascades formed by the impetuous ru>'jing
of a mountuiu stream, termed the Keltie, down a rugged
reeky ravine. Each cascuilo is from 8 to 10 feet in
depth, and altogether tho Falls may measure upwards
of 100 feet, before they finally settle in a profound
receptacle at the bottom. Above the chasm there is
thrown a rustic foot-bridse, from which the view of the
Falls, when the water is Targe, is particularly grand.

The other place to which we would draw attention is
the Pasi of Lentf, This is a narro' " jpening, about a
mile to the north-west of the v'' , which aflords
access, as its name imports, from ine Low country into
tho wild recesses of the Highlands. While the vale of
the Teith continues towards tho west, the road to the
Pass of Leny strikes off in a north-westerly direction.
Skirted with waving woods, and bound in by lofty
mountains, this is a scene of great sublimity. A rapid
river, which issues from the mountain lake denominated
Loch Lubnaig, hurries through the narrow vale over a
scries of little cascades, yielding a music harsh and
wild, in strict keeping with the ruggeilness of the scene.
The road leads along the brink of Loch Lubnaig, to
the small parish village of Balquidder, in the church-
yard of which tho grave of the celebrated freebooter
Rob Roy is still pointed out.

The road towards the Trosachs pursues a tortuous
line along the base of a mountain-range, skirting the
north side of the valley. In the bottom of tho vale lie
in succession two long stripes of water, or lakes, called
Loch Vennochar and Loch Achnvy. Immediately be-
fore approaching the eastern extremity of the last of
these fases, which is by much the smallest, a road leads
off to the right into the vale of Qlenfitiku — a tract of
ten miles in extent, formerly a royal hunting-forest,
destitute of the smallest symptom of habitation or of
cultivation, and which any one who wishes to have a
complete idea of an Ussianio desert, in all its sterile
and lonely wildness, may be recommended to traverse.
The bridge crossing the stream which descends from
this vale, is called the Bridge of Turk, from the cir-
cumstance, it is said, of a wild boar, which had done
much mischief in the neighbourhood, having been slain
at the place in times long bygone.

On coming to the head of Loch Achray, you approach
the Trosachs. At this point is situated an inn having
a strange Gaelic name, sounding something like Ard-
kencrockran. This is the lost human habitation on the
route, and here travellers usually quit their vehicles in
order to walk the remainder of the distance; the road,
however, will accommodate a choise to the verge of
Loch Katrine. The Trosachs is simply a concluding
portion of the vale, about a mile in extent, and adjoin-
ing to the bottom of Loch Katrine. From the tumul-
tuous confusion of little rockj eminences, of all the
most fantastic and extraordinary forms, which lie
throughout tho bottom of the vale, and are every-
where shagged with trees and shrubs, nature here
wears an aspect of roughness and wildness, of tangled
and inextricable boskiness, totally unexampled. The
valley being contracted, hills, moreover, rise on each
aide to a great height, which, being entirely covered by
birches, hazels, oaks, hawthorns, and mountain ashes,
contribute greatly to the general effect. The ^Meaning
of the woid D-omchs in some measure describes the
scene — a rough or brisUed piece of territory.. The
author of the ' Lady of the Lake ' has described it as * a
wildering scene of mountains, rocks, and woods, thrown
together in disorderly groups.'

At the termination of the Trosachs, Loch Katrine
commences: it measureii about 10 miles in length,
and is justly reckoned one of the most beautiful in
Scotland. Its principal charm consists in the singular
rugged wildness of its mountainous sides, and its pretty
rocky islets, rising to a considerable height out of the
water, and tufted over with trees and shrubs. Near

the eastern extremity of the lake there ii precisely
such an island as that which is described in the poem
as the residence of the outlawed Uouglas and his family.
To fulfil the wishes of the imagination — if such a phrase
may be used — Lady Willoughby D'Eresby, the pro-
prietrix of the ground, has erected upon the island »
sort of tower or cottage, such as that which the said
family occupied; and he must be a traveller of more
than ordinary churlishness who could refrain from in-
dulging in the pleasing deception thus created.

The view of the lake, on approaching it on the east,
is rather confined; but from the top of the rocky and
woody mount above, the prospect is moro exteiiiivo,
and of that singular beauty which Scott iu hii ' Lady
of the Lake' has described: —

' Gloaming with tho sotting sun.

One biimishotl shoot of ItvinK nfold,

Loch Katrine lay beneath him ruUvd,

In all har length fur-winding lay,

With promontory, creek, ond bay,

And islands that, empurpled bright,

Kloate') "mid tho livelier light,

And mountains that like giants stand.

To sentinel enchanted land.

High on tho south, huge Uun-vonuo

Down on the lake its masses threw —

Crags, knuUs, and mounds, confusedly hurled,

Tho fragments of an earlier world ;

A wllderhig forest feathered o'er

11 is ruined sides and summit boar ;

While on tho north, through middle air,

lion-an heaved high his forehead bare.'

Loch Earn. — The beautiful scenery connected with
this lake may be said to commence at Comrie, a vil-
lage about 20 miles to the west of Perth, and remark-
able as the place of all others in the United Kingdom
where earthquakes take place most frequently. The
vale of the Earn is here, and even lower down, full of
natural and acquired beauty. Passing upwards towards
the lake, the scenery becomes more interesting at every
step. At that part of the vale which adjoins to the
bott> m of the lake, its character is similar to that of
the Trosachs, at the corresponding extremity of Loch
Katruie, though less minutely rugged and picturesque.
Passing through the extensive grove at the bottom of
the valley, now within sight and hearing of the ever-
glanciug and ever-murmuring Earn, and then beyond
both, as the road approaches and recedes from the
water-side, the traveller gets frequent broken glimpses,
of the grand and wildly-serrated tops of the neighbour-
ing mountains, whose sides present a strange piebald
mixture, by uo means deficient in effect, of alternate
bare crag and incumbent verdure — a beautiful confu-
sion, indeed, of gray and green — relieved occaBiooaltj
by the darker branches of the birch and weeping-ash.

Loch Earn extends 9 miles iu length, and gene-
rally about 1 mile in breadth. It is thus described- by
Dr Macculloch : — ' Limited as are the dimensions of
Loch Earn, it is exceeded in beauty bv few of our lakr-,
as far as it is possible for many bc<iuties to exist in so
small a space. I will not say that it presents a great
number of distinct landscapes adapted for the pencil;,
but such OS it does possess are remarkable for their
consistency of character, and for a combination oC
sweetness and simplicity, with a grandeur of manner,,
scarcely to be expected within such narrow bounds.
Its style is that of a lake of far greater dimensions; the:
hills which bound it being lofty, and bold, and rugged,
with a variety of character not found in many of oven
far greater magnitude and extent. It is a nuniature
and model of scenery that might well occupy ten times
the space. Yet the eye does not feel this. There is
nothing trifling or small in the details; nothing to di-
minish its grandeur of style, and tell uaweare contem-
plating a reduced copy. On the contrary, there is a
perpetual contest between our impressions and ou(^
reasonings : we know (hat a few short miles corapre.>
heud the whole, and yot we feel as if it were a landscapes
of many miles — a lake to be ranked among those of first

22a

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THB PEOPLE.

order and dlmendoni. WhUa itt mounUini thui riM
in mivjottio •iinpHclty to the iky, terminating in bold,
and varioui, and rockv outlinoi, the lurliwei of the do-
olivitiei are equally bold and varioui; enriched with
precipice! and maiiei of ^)^otruding rock, with deep
toUowi and rarinei, and with the counei of innumer-
able torreuti which pour from above, and, ai thev dc-
■oend, become skirted with troei till they low tnem-
aelvef in the waten of the lake. Wild woodi alito
aicend along their (urfaco, in all that irregularity of
diftribution lo peculiar to theio rocky mountains; less
solid and continuous than at Loch Lomond; less scat-
tered and romantic than at Loch Katrine; but from
these very causes, aiding to confer upon Loch Earn a
character entirely its own.' In passing along Loch
Earn, it is recommended to go by tne road on the south
side. The house of Ardvoirdlich (Stewart, Esq.), occurs
about mid-way; its name recalls the memory of Stewart
of Ardvoirdlich, a partisan of Montrose, who killed his
friend Lord Kilpont in the royalist camp at Collace,
September 5, 1644 — the incident on which Scott founded
his ' Legend of Montrose.' The woody promontories
which here project into the lake are remarkably beau-
tiful. About a mile and a-half from the west end of
the lake occur the castle and Falls of Edinample, a
scene of distinguished loveliness, such as people, in the
spirit of compliment, say might give occasion to a
volume, and which, rather strange to tell, has actually
done BO. The upper extremity of this beautiful lake,
where the general merits of the scenery may be said in
some measure to be condensed and combined, is en-
livened by the little village and iuu of Loch Earn Head.

Middle Perthshire.

Dunkeld,—ThiB small town, so celebrated for the
fine Menerv in its neighbor irhood, is situated on the
north bank of the Tay, at the distance of 15 miles from
Perth, and S4 from Kenmore. Nestling beneath steep
and woody mountains, with a noble river running in
front, across which there is an elegant bridge, the first
view of Dunkeld, in approaching it from the south, is
yory striking. The village consists of two small streets,
in which are two excellent inns, affording extensive
accommodation for the tourists who flock hither in
summer. At Dunkeld, attention is called to the vene-
rable remains of a cathedral, and the Duke of Athole's
mansion, styled Dunkeld House; but our present busi-
ness is with the natural seen ery. Most of this is in the
pleasure-grounds connected with the mansion,

Craig-y-Bams, a lofty hill, wooded to the top, which
rises behind the house, is a resort of tourists for the
sake of the magnificent view which it commands. They
are also conducted by guides to the scenery of the
Bran, which joins the Tay on its opposite bank near the
village of Inver — the birthplace and usual residence,
it may be mentioned, of the late Neil Oow, so famous
wherever Scottish music is known, at once for his per-
formance on the violin and his excellent compositions.
Near this place the tourist is conducted into a tasteful
hermitage or summer-house, named Ossian's Hall,
where ^ i sees before him a picture representing the
aged Ossian singing to some females the tales ' of the
days that are past,' while his do^, his hunting-spear,
and bow and arrows, lie at his side. On a sudden,
this picture slips aside, and discloses to the view of the
surprised stranger a splendid cataract, which dashes
down the rocks immediately opposite to the building,
and the waten of which are reflected from a range of
mirrors disposed around the hall. To use the words
of Dr Clarke, ' The whole cataract foams at once before
you, roaring with the noise of thunder. It is hardly
possible to conceive a 8pe(,tacle more striking. If it be
objected that machinery contrivance of this sort wears
too much the appearance of scenic representation^ I
should reply, that as scenic representation I admire it,
and as the finest specimen of that species of exhibition,
which, doubtless, without the aid of such a deception,
would have been destitute of half the effect it is now
calculated to produce. A little Mow this edifice, a
280

simple, but pleasing arch is thrown aoroia the nanuw
chasm of the rocks, through which the river flows with
vast rapidity. About a mile higher up the Dian is the
Rumbling Bridge, thrown across a chasm of granite,
about fifteen feet wide. The bed of the river, for several
hundred feet above the arch, is copiously charged with
massive fragments of rook, ovur which the river foams
and roars like the waters at Ivy bridge in Devonshire.
Approaching the bridge, it precipitates itself with great
fury through the chasm, casting a thick cloud of spray
or vapour high above the bridge, and agitating by iti
fury even the prodigious masses which form the sur-
rounding rocks. Few objects will more amply repay
the traveller for his trouble of visiting them, than the
woody precipices, the long, winding, shady groves, the
ruins and cataracts of Dunkeld.' In the angle formed
by the junction of the Bran and Tay rises Craig Vinean,
a broad shadowy mass of firs, reared against the sky.
A neighbouring eminence obtains the name of the
King'i Seat, in consequence of King William the Lion
having been in the habit of stationing himself upon
it, in order to shoot at the droves of deer which his at<
tendants caused to p.^^s through the adjacent hollows.
Aberfeldy, Kenmore, and KiUin, — Tourists frequently
proceed from Dunkeld along the bank of the Ta^, m
order to comprehend the tract of scenery here mdi-
Cited. Abtrfeldy, a village not in itself remarkable, ia
celebrated for the fine cataract, formed by a small tri-
butary of the Tay, in its neighbourhood, and near the
House of Moness, The tourist is conducted by a guide
along the thickly-wooded banks of this rivulet, till,
about a mile from the village, he reaches the first of
the celebrated waterfalls of Moness, A little sub-tri-
butary rill here pours, in a series of cascades, down the
side of the glen, amidst a natural scene of the greatest
beauty, A little farther up the main dell, the rivulet
pours along a steep natural staircase, of a hundred
feet in perpendicular descent, the sides of which rise
abruptly and ruggedly, clothed with the most beautiful
natural plants. This scene is described by Burns in
one of his well-known songs: —

' Tho brooB ascend like lofty wa'a,
Tho foaming stream dcop-roarlng la's,
O'erhung wl' fhigront sproadlng shaws,
The blrks of Aberfbldy,

The hoary cll0b aro crowned wi' flowers s
Whitu o'ur the linn the bumlo pours,
And, rising, wuots wl* misty showers
The blrka of Abor&ldy.'

At a third cataract, higher up, the pathway crosaes tha
stream, and descends on the other side of the dell.
Pennant, the tourist, describes the Moness Falls as ' an
epitome of everything that can be admired in the cu-
riosity of waterfalls.'

A ride of six miles along the Tay brings the traveller
to Kenmore, a village of famed beauty, situated at tha
east end of Loch Tay, at the place where the ri^er
issues from that sheet of water. This is one of the cUief
stages or points in the tour of Perthshire, and it it
provided, accordingly, with a good inn. Lofty hills
ascend on each side; on one hand there is a noble lake;
on the other, towards Aberfeldy, stretch the splendid
grounds around Taymouth Castle, the seat of the Mar-
quis of Breadalbane. This magnificent house — truly
worthy of the great chief and land -proprietor who owns
it — is about a mile to the east of Kenmore, the exterior
gateway of the park opening from the street of the vil-
lage. It is a dark-gray castellated edifice, of moden:
aspect, situated in the low ground beside the river,
with a beautiful backing of woody hills rising behind
it. A guide is required to introduce a stranger to all
the beauties of the Taymouth Park, among which the
most remarkable is the Berceau Walk, a grand avenue
of 450 yards in length, which reminds one of some
lofty cathedral, ' casting a dim religious light.'

Loch Tay is a fine sheet of water, 15 miles in
length, lying between two ranges of hills. In the centre
of the north-west tide rises Ben Lower*, to the height

SOOTIiAND.

of 4010 feet. An Ulmd near Kenmore fonnerly con-
tallied a priory of Auguitinet, fouiideil bv Alexander I,
in the year 1129. Here hii queen, Sybilla, daughter
of Henry I. of England, waa buried. Loch Tay u re-
markable, like Bouie other Scottiih lakei, for having
been on wTeral occationi greatlv agitated at the
moment of the occurrence of eartnquakei in diitant
jiarti of the world. It i« from 1& to 100 fathom*
deep. There ii c, road on each lide to Killin, the
diitance being tizteen milei. Both abound alike in
fine icenety, though, by pursuing that iiKng the louth
■ide, a viuw will be obtained of the loftv Ben Lawen,
which will icarcely be icon in luch perfection on the
opposite side. The mixture of wood, rock, and culti-
vated field which the traveller finds skirting Loch Tay,
will surprise him with its happy cflect. The system
of minute farms prevails here in all its pristine vigour,
and a vast number of rude and picturesque cottages
necessarily enter into the composition of the landscape.

KUlin, a straagling little village, situated in the low
vale at the head of the loch, is celebrated for the varied
beauty of its scenery. Here two rivers, the Dochart
and the Lochy, come down out of different glens, and
join their waters with each other and wi^h the lake.
The vale of the latter is peculiarly beautiful; but that
of the Dochart, eztendibg up to Tyndrum, upon the
great west road, is only stem and wild. On arriving
at the town, the Dochart breaks over a strange expanse
of table - rock in a thousand little cascades ; so that
the traveller, who crosses a bridge just at the place,
is bewildered, as he looks around, with the flashing
and sparkling water which everywhere meets his eye.
' Killin,' says Dr MaccuUoch, * is the most extraordi-
nary collection of extraordinary scenery in Scotland,
unlike everything else in the country, and perhaps
on earth, and a perfect picture-gallery in itself, since
you cannot move three yards without meeting a new
landscape. A busy artist might here draw a month,
and not exhaust it. It ii indeed scarcely possible to
conceive so many distinct and marked objects collected
within so small a space, and all so adapted to each
other as always to preserve one character, and at the
same time to produce so endless a number of distinct
and beautiful landscapes. To find, however, all that
Killin has to give of this nature, it is necessary to pry
about into comers, like a cat; aa the separate scenes
are produced by very slight changes of position, and
are often found in very unexpected places. Fir-trees,
rocks, torrents, mills, bridges, houses'— these produce
the great bulk of the middle landscape under endless
combinations; while the distances more constantly are
found in the surrounding hills, in the varied woods,
in the bright expanse of the lake, and the minute
ornaments of the distant valley, in the rocky and bold
summit of Craig Cailleach, and in the lofty vision of
Ben Lawers, which towers like a huge giant to the
clouds, the monarch of the scene.'

On the north-west shore of Loch Tay, near Killin,
stands the mouldering ruin of Finlarig Castle, built
by Sir Colin Campbell of Olenurchy between 1513 and
1523, and the seat of the family before their removal
to Balloch or Taymouth. ' We observe also,' says a
traveller, writing in 1802, ' situated on a plain at the
west end of the lake, a neat but small mansion (Kinnel),
belonging to Mr M'Nab, the cbieflain of that name.
The family burial-ground, Iniah-Mhui, close by the
house, is pointed out to the stranger as a place of
singular beauty. It undoubtedly is such, and is highly
calculated to raise ideas of tenderness and sorrow; as
an insulated grove of tall pines, whose solemn aspect
and deep silence are in fine harmony with the waters
around it, the blue expanse of the lake calm and un-
ruffled, and the height of the mountains that rise from
its margin, are objects well suited to correspond with
the belief that Fingal sleeps bc-re in the dust.'

Dumbartmshlro.
A tract of beautiful scenery extends through this
county, from the banks of the Clyde along those of

the Leven, and including Loch Lomond, the largest,
and probably most beautinil of our British lakes: —

At the starting-point, in an angle formed by the
confluence of the Leven and Clyde, is a basaltic mass,
shooting up to the height of 560 foot above an alluvial
plain. This affords a site for the celebrated />um6ar(on
Ca$tU, a romantic fortress, noted in Scottish histoiy,
and one of four kept in repair in terms of the Act of
Union. Passins the town of Dumbarton, the tourist
proceeds upwards along the vale of the Leven, a scene
of singular beauty, filled with thriving villages and ele-

?;ant mansions. The road, at the distance of two miles
rom the town, passes the old mansion-house of Dalau-
ham, in which, in the year 1721, the author of ' Rode-
rick Random ' first saw the light. Archibald Smollett,
the father of the novelist, was the fourth son of Sir
James Smollett of Bonhill, and having married against
his father's will, waa residing here, in possession of one
of the farms of the family property, at the time of the
birth of his illustrious child. In a field on the oppo-
site or west side of the road, there is an obelisk to the
memory of the novelist, erected and inscribed by his
cousin-german, James Smollett of Bonhill. Immediately
beyond, the road passes through the populous modem
village of Renton, occupied by persons engaged in the
neighbouring bleachfields, and taking its name ttota
that of a lady married into the Smollett family. This,
and another similar village named Alexandria, a little
farther on, together with the appearance of various
works on a large scale scattered over the landscape,
testify that industry of a difierent kind from that which
becomes ' embrowned with toil,' has taken possession
of the limpid waters of the Leven, to which, therefore,
the beautiful ode of Smollett is no longer strictly appli-
cable. Bonhill, the ancient seat of the novelist's family,
is opposite to Alexandria. Several other mansions of
handsome appearance enliven the road before it arrives
at BaUoch (at the foot of the lake), a small village and
inn at the southern extremity of Loch Lomond, and
4^ miles from Dumbarton.

Loch Lomond measures 23 miles in length from north
to south; its breadth, where greatest, at the southern
extremity, is 5 miles, from which it padually grows
narrower between the euclosing hills, till it terminates
in a mountain streamlet. The whole aqueous surface
ia calculated at 31^ square miles, or 20,000 Enelish
acres, and it is studded by above thirty isles, mostly at
the southern extremity. These islands, together with
the shores of the lake, are in general clothed with
dark wood, which gave occasion to a distinction very
judiciously drawn a few years ago by a Swiss tourist
between Lausanne and Loch Lomond: ' Our lake,' he
said, < is the fair beauty — yours the black.' The first
isle that occurs is a long narrow one named Inch Mur-
rtn, at the southern extremity of which there is an old
ruined fortalice called Lennox Castle, said to have
formerly been a residence of the Earls of Lennox.
This isle is now the property of the Duke of Montrose,
who employs it for the keeping of deer. In succession
from Inch Murrin, towards the north-east, occur Inch
Cro (the Isle of Cattle), Torr Inch (the Wood Isle), and
Inch CaiUaoh (the Island of Women, having been the
site of a nunnery). On the south side of Inch Caillach
is (Mr Inch (Hat Island), a very little member of the
archipelago ; at the north end the ruins of a castle ate
to be seen under water, testifying that the surface of
the lake must have risen in the course of ag'js. Inch
Caillach, which formerly gave name to the parish of
Buchanan, and was the burial-place of the Macgregors,
has on its north side Inch Fadd (Long Island), which
bears grain and pasture, and near which is EUendar-
rooh (the Small Rugged Island). Another group to the
northward stretch between the peninsula of Rossdoe,
on the west side of the lake, and Strathcashel Point, on
the east. Inch Tavanagh, the first in this group, and
which derives its name from having once been Uie re-
sidence of a monk, contains 150 acres, partly covered
with wood; it is the highest island in the lake. At
a little distance to the south, the ruins of Galbiaith

931

CHAMBERS'S IvruAMATIOM FOR TUE PEOPLE.

C*ill», once ih« wildonce of » fiimlljr of that nftni«, itart

up from the w»ter. To the viut of^ Inch I'liVftUttBh ara

Iiwh C'mayan, cojtttd with onk oiid fir, ttiid Inrh Moan,

« low ifle coiroctljf deiorilH'd bjr iti naino, which limii-

&e$ the iilttiid of iiioM. Htill farther to the cait are Inch

Cruin, oh which i* an atjriiini for insane pemoni, and

Bve-iMK («ioot- Island). North from tbeio li«i Inrh

Lfmaig, lA" MrM in extent, and bearing many old

vewi furniorly of great iiic in fiirniihin^t tno ninturinli

of bowt anil arrnwi. Of the whole thirty iilanda, the

remainder are uniniportant. South of Lum, the ilejith

of thu lako ii rarely more thnn 'JO fathunia : in the

iiorlborn and narrower part it raugoi from (il) to lOU

futhonii; and in the placet where deepeat, never frcezoa.

Ju anuioiit timoi Loch Lomond wiia famed for throe

wondura— * wavea without winda, flah without flna, and

A lloatinj; ialand,' The flrat |>hcnomonon ia attributed

to a peculiar atmoapherio enect, not eaaily dcacribcd,

l)ut wliich haa alao been observed on the Cumberland

lakea; vipora awimming from ialand to island account

for the lecond ; the flouting ialand ia auppnaed to have

been a detached fragment of moaa, or a matted maaa

of aquatic planta, which ultimately fixed itaelf near

the weat tide of Inch Conagan.

Loch Lomond ia akirted on the weat aide by the road
from Dumbarton to Inverary. Leaa than a mile from
the lower end of the lako, thia road paaaca Cameron
Ilouae, long the icat of the UmoUetta of Donhill, and
doacribed as such in the novel of * Humphry Clinker,'
where we have many panegyrics upon ita acenery, A
little farther on, the fine modern nmnaiou of Refretiro
overhangs the road upon the loft. Here, through a fine
vista, api<eara the polished expanse of Loch Lomond,
Ita large islands, and the soft hills in the distance — a
Tiev that never fails to arrest the attention of the tra-
Teller, The objects that crowd into this acene are so
tiiiely diversified in forni, in situation, and in colour,
us to compose a picture at once beautiful and im-
preaaive. At the seventh milo-stone, upon the left, is
the mansion of Arden, environed with woods, and
placed at the bottom of a lolly hill call«'>d Dut\fton,
or the Hill of Fingal, tradition reportini< it to have
been one of the hunting-seats of that hero. Some-
what further on, and passing Nether Hoss upon the
left, the traveller croaaea a amall river called the
Water of Fruin, which falls into the lake. It rises in
Olenfnun, or Vale of Lamentation, so called, it is said,
from a dreadful slaughter of the Colquhouns by the
Mocgregors in 1602, and on account of which the Mac-
grcgors were for nearly two centuries unceasingly per-
Hecuted by government. Tha promontory of Hoiidoe,
which forms a beautiful situation for the mansion of
the same name, is then passed ; after which a scene
uf uninterrupted beauty continues all the way to Luss,
twelve miles from Dumbarton.

£u««, a delightful littlo village, on n promontory
which juts into the lake, is much resorted to in sum-
mer, on account of its being a convenient etation for
tourists in search of the picturesque. One of the finest
points for enjoying the scenery of Loch Lomond and
the environs of Luss, is Strouehill, to the non ' f th>,-
Tillage. At this point, about one-third of the va-y up
a lofty hill, the whole breadth of the lake is apMiuetl
iDy tile eye, including

— ' all the tolry cronils
Of UlunUn which toguthor lie.
As quietly as spots of Bl<y
Aiuuug the evening clouds.'

From this point the isles appear distinctly separated
from each other, but not so much so as to give the idea
of a map or bird-eye view, which a higher point of view
would undoubtedly present. The prospect is bounde«l
on the south by the distant hills which intervene be-
tween Loch Lomond and the Clyde, and which here
appear, in comparison with the mountains around, to
be only gentle swellsj the Leven, its tu'-, the rock of
Uumbarton, and even the surface of the Clyde, are in
the same direction conspicuous. Towards the east, the
232

vale of the Kndrick, Its prinoipal Mats, the obelisk
erected to the memory of lliirhanan at KiUearn, anil
tho Lennox Hills, are also distinctly visible. Turning
to the north, the lake la seen to wind and recede far
away among the mountains.

At ln«tTitgla», ^ miles beyond Lust, there It »
ferry to Unwardennan Inn, the uiual ttarting-poini
for thoti! who desire to ascend to the top of Urn LO'
mimil. Thia mountain, situated in the county of 8tir-
ling, is 3'.M0 feet above the level of tho lake, which
it '2'i above tho level of tho tea. At Kowardennan,
when looking northward, it alinott completely fills
up the view. It contiata in three great atagea, each
rising above tho other; theae, again, are divided into a
number of leaser swelling knolls, some of which are
covered with heath and crags, while others are verdnnt
and amooth. The diatance from tho inn to the top of
the mountain ia aix milea of a continued aacent, which
in general requires about three hours. From th«
summit, a varied and most extensive prospect opens
upon the eye in every direction. The lake, lately
contemplated with so much pleasure, now appears a
amall pool, and ita rich and diversified islands as so
many specks upon its surface. Uevond it, and to the
left, appear the vale of the Kndrick, the distant county of
Lanark, its towns, and tho mountain of Tinto; directly
south, the outlet of the lake, the river Leven, its wind-
ing and rich banks, the Castle of Dumbarton, and the
counties of Kenfrew and Ayr ; nearly in the same
direction, the Firth of Clyde, tho rocK of Ailaa, tho
islands of Arnvn and Bute, with the more distant At-'
lantic. The coasts of Ireland and the Isle of Man are,
when the atinoaphero is clear, within the boundary of
the view. To the east are seen the counties of Stirling
and the Lothians, with the windings of the Forth, and
the castles of Stirling and Kdinburgh. The prospect
to the north is marked by grandeur alon*. Immense
mountains, piled, as it were, above each other, and ex-
tending from the borders of Stirlingshire to the western
ocean, with the indentations of the coast on one side,
and the lakes of Perthshire on the other, form alto-
gether a scene which may be conceived, but which can-
not bo properly described.

Ben Lomond has this remarkable advantage at a hill — '
that it is not overcrowned or crowded up with surround-
ing hills. It seems to be sole monarch of a vast undis-
puted territory. Nowhere, therefore, is there a better
idea to be obtained of the Highland country than on its
summit. The mountain itself, besides, afibrds a great
variety of scenery. To the south it stretches out into
a slope of a very gentle declivity. The north side is
awfullv abrupt, and presents a concave precipice of
many hundred yards in depth, l^le must possess firm
nerves who can a])proach the brink and look down
unmoved. The rock is '20(H) feet in sheer descent,

Ab«iut 44 miles to tb« north of Inveruglas, tho
Dumbarton and Inverary road reaches tho lonely
but comfortable inn nt Tarbert, where there is also a
ferrv by which Ben L«-imond may be approached. At
thi.1. inn thie road leabves the shore of the lake, and
proceeds to the west-ward by tho head of Loch Long,
iu»d su into Argyleg^ire, On tho heights above, beside
Ute way to Loch Katrine, are the remains of Inversnaid
Foit, er«tcied by the government in 1713 to check the
mkulence of the Macgregors: near it is a little burial-
jrround. in which the garrison had interred their dead,
and containing one or two monuments, which have long
forgot to tell the familiar tal(^ confided to them, Tho
fi>rt was taken by Rob Roy in 17 Hi, but afterwards re-
gained and rff-established. It is said that the amiable
General U >U'c at ono time resided in it.

Firth df Clyde— Argyloshire,

This ie a tract of scenery rouoh admired and visited,
on account of its presenting a fine combination of in-
land seas with islands of varied surface and chains of
rugged mountains : —

The Clyde expands into an estuary a little way belcw
Dumbarton, I'here, while the comparatively low hiils

SCOTLAND.

nt R«tifV«wihlrA, with the thrWing towni of PoH'OIm-
gi)W aiitl (Iraaiiovk, aro leen nii tho left, nttaiititm ii
c»lla<l on (he riKhl to the towering a\\t» of Argyleihire,
■oiiietiniei iroiiicalljr called the Duke of Argyle'i Howl-
iiig-dreeii. 'I'hu Arj^jrleihiru ahiirei aro here tlecorated
with a long lucceuioii of villai, tho fiiroiirito luiiinier
fMiiiencee of tho more atlliient vitiztma of (lliuigDw,
This niountainoui region ia |M<notrateil by aeveral inloti
of the lea, ono of whiuh, nnnieil I.orfi liong, ii -i
niilea long. Another, nanieil tho Holy Loch, ii ahortor,
but aurrouniled ly equally nic'tiirea(|Uo ground. There
ii alio an inluiid luko, Loch Kck, which prcaenta aoine
very beautiful iccnnry.

Sopiiriiiud from thii rugged diatrict by only a narrow
atrait ia tho inluiid of Hiitt, dinidnying feature* only a
little lea* highland, and ruuiarKublo lor the amenity of
ita cliniatv, on which account it ia much reaorted
to by poraona utCecled with (lulmonary ailmenti. It
mciuurea U milva in length by about 4 in breadth, and
contain* aonio beautiful itripa of level territory, in one
of which ia aituatcd the manaion of the Murquia of Hute.
Tho beautiful town of Kotheaay, a favourite watering-
*tation, occupie* a flno aituatiun on the north-oa«t ex-
tremity of the ialand. Hero ore the ruin* of a palocc
which formed tho ordinary reaidence of the earlieat
*overeign* of the llouio of Stuart. The Kylei of Hute,
a* the atrait abovo-mentioned i* named, ii remarkable
for tho tine vi*ta* of alpine acenery which it open* up
to the view of the touriat.

To the *outh of Hute lie* tho iiland o! Arran, 22
mile* long, and which entirely con*iit* of a range of
rocky mountain*, the *errated outline of which, a* aeen
from the neighbouring *eaii and *hore*, ii extremely
grand. Tho loftiett *ummit, (loat-fell (called by the
native* Ooalh-bhein, the Hill of Storm*), i* 'JIlOU feet
high. Airan bear* groat value in tho eye* of the geo-
logiat, on account of it* presenting, within a narrow
•pace, an epitome of the whole geological atructure of
Scotland. Its pathles* glen* and picturoaquo hill* com-
mend it equally to viaitori who do not inquire into the
myateriei of atratiflcation and volcanic agency. The
whole ialand, excepting a few unall farm*, belong* to
the Duke of Hamilton, whose ance*tor, Jamea first Lord
Hamilton, obtained it from tho crown on hi* marrying
Alary, the elde*t daughter of James II., in tho year
1474. There are now a number of largo farm* enclosed,
*ubdivided, and well cultivated, having fine stocks of
cattle and comfortable farm-ttoadiiitjs, where fonnerly
there were numerous hnK without chimneys or win-
dows, and ridges runiii<.K >n all directions without a
■ingle enclosure or ^^vtbd^Tision. At the north end of
tho ialand, undor t\.^ K>f' nnd isolated summit called
the Cock of Arra.<, » - lall bay, denominated Loch
Riinza, serves or a natii^ral harbour, in which capacity
it is tunii'd to i;(<tmt iwvantago in the herring-fishery.
On the shoi-e of th« bay there arc a few scattered
houses, an in!^,a^ ancient castle in ruins, and a preach-
ing stutiiin. A road sweeping round the east shore of
the island leads to iirodick Day, at the bottom of which
there is a beautiful tract of low and sloping ground,
ornamented with some fine wood, containing a hamlet,
which forms a favourite resort for sea-bathing. On
the adjacent height, amidst ancient woods, is the an-
cient ch&teau of Brodick, a mansion of the Duke of
Hamilton. Front thi* place a road strike* across the
island, and opens up jome magnificent scenery. Two
or three miles to the southward of Brodick, the shore
forms the more spacious recess of Lamlash Bay, at the
bottom of which is a village of the same name, while it
is landlocked in front by Holy Island, a small isle which
. fonnerly contained a monastery. Lamlash Bay is of

freat importance to the navigation of the Clyde and
rish Channel, as a harbour of safety.
Loch f^me, a long narrow estuary, having the ridgy
promontory of Kintyre on the one side and the district
of Cuwal on the other, opens up much fine scenery.
In sailing up the loch, the first remarkable place is
Tarbert, a fishing village situatad at the bottom of a
beautiful Huall bay, with a ruined fortalioe uf the Argyle

family perched on » rock b^ It* iidt. Farther up the
loch ia Inrarary, the boautifiilly-altuated, village-like
rnuntv town, chiefly forming a mere dependency of the
nt-ighbouring Inverary Castle, the princi|)«l *eat of tho
anciimt and illu*triou* Houae of Argyll*. The ruggrd
aylvan acenery anmnd thia mauaion, with it* viewa of
aeoi, mountain*, and diatanl talanda, excite* seiivral
admiration. Between Inverary ami the inn of 'nkrbert
on Liich Lonioiiil, a road open* up a splendid tract of
mountain acenery, the most atnking being compre-
heii'lod in tho valley of (llencoe, Another road, pro-
ceeding in a northerly direction, lead* to Loch Awe, an
inland lake possessing many fine features, and upon
which stands the ruined castle of Kilchurn, onco tho
chief stronghold of the lirvailalbane family. Tho loch
is overhung by Brn Cruachan, a mountain 33(itt feet in
hei|j;ht,on the skirts of which King Robert Bruce gained
n victory over hia powerful enemy the Lord of Lorn.

The northern portion of Argyleahiro, where it ii
bounded by the Weatern Ocean and its many inlets, con-
taina much fine scenery. In a sheltered situation on tho
west coast atanda the neat and cheerful town of Oban,
a point of rendezvous for the numerous steamer* per-
meating these seaa, and a kind of entrepot for the rural
produce of tho wide diatrict around it. In front i* the
isle of Kcrrera, where Alexander II. died in the course
of an expedition to the Western Islands. On the coast,
a little to the north of Oban, is Dunolly Caatlo, the
mansion of tho Macdougals of Lorn ; and a little way
farther north is DunstaHiiage, an ancient scat of tho
Caledonian kings, occupying a commanding site on the
top of a rock overlooking the sea,

Loeh Linnhe, opening between Lorn and Morven,
and the commencement of the chain of aalt and fresh-
water lakes formed into tho Caledonian Canal, present*
on both sides scenei^ of a most romantic character — a
mixture of bold rocky forelands, on many of which are
perched the eyrie-like fortresses of tho rude chiefs of
the olden time, and green smiling hollows, within bays,
where the elegant habitations of a modern gentry have
been placed. The long island of Lismore, in the mouth
of this estuary, was the ancient appanage of the bishop*
of Argyle, and temporarily the site of a college for
Catholic priests, after the French seminaries wore closed
by the Revolution; but is now only remarkahlu for the
great quantity of limestone exported from it. Opposite
to its upper extremity, Loch Creran, a sub -estuary,
branches off into the land of Lorn, opening up much
beautiful scenery. On the south shore of Loch Linnhe,
to the north of the opening of Loch Creran, is the dis-
trict of Appin, previous to 1765 the property of a race
of Stewart*, descended from a natural son of the last
Lord Lorn, and for four centuries conspicuous in High-
land history. In this district, the first mansion which
occurs to the north of Loch Creran is Airds, the seat
of Sir John Campbell. Next is tho ruin of Castle
Stalker, an ancient massive building. Appin House,
the seat of Mr Downie of Appin, next occurs; and after
that, at the mouth of Loch Levoii, Ardshiel (Stewart,
Esq.). From Ballahulish Ferry on Loch Leven, noted
for its great quarry of slate, the west Highland road
(lenetrates the savage vale of Qlencoe.

Glmcoe opens a little to the north of a solitary inn
called the King's House, and extend* about 10 mile*
in a north-westerly direction to Ballahulish. It niay
be described as a narrow strip of rugged territory,
along which hurries the wild stream of Cona, celebrated
by (Jssian, who is said to have been bom on its bunks.
Clu each side of the narrow banks of this river, a ranee
of stupendous hills shoots perpendicularly up to the
height of at least 2000 feet, casting a horrid gloom over
the vale, and impressing the lonely traveller with feel-
ings of awe and wonder. The military road sweeps
along the right side of the glen. From the sides of the
hills an immense number of torrents descend, sometimes
sweeping over and spoiling the road, which is always,
therefore, in a very precarious state. From the one
end of the vale to the other only one human habita-
tion is to b« seen; and as it ia not a road of much cur-

233

CHAMSlifiB'S iKS'OBMATtON ITOB TBE PBOPLti.

lency, the iniTellor may yut through it without meet-
ing » lingl* human being. The go»ti MrMnbling among
the rocki, Mid the wild eagle hovering about the tops
of the wall-like hills, ate usually the only liTing objects
within sight ; and, as may be sonoeiTed, these rather
Inoiease iStan dimbish the wildneis and desolation <^
the scene. The place where the famous massacre of
Olenooe happened is at the north-west end of the vale.

InTsniMi-ihiie— The Great Olen.

Between Loch Linnhe on the west coast, and a point
on the Moray Firth near Inverness, there is a remark-
able natural phenomenon, in the form of a glen or
hollow, passing in a perfectly straight line for 60
miles through a mountainous region, and the bottom
of which is nowhere more than 90 feet elevated
above the level of the sea. It is called by the High-
landers OltH'more'nam-AUnn (the Great Glen of Swt-
land). A chain of lakes extending along this extra-
ordinary hollow suggested the fonnation of a canal
which should admit of navigation between the seas on
the two sides of the island, and save the dangerous
passage round by the Pentland Firth; and this, under
the name of the OtUedonian Canal, was formed bistweeu
1803 and 1822, under the care of Mr Telford, at an
expense of £800,000. (See Vol. I., p. 41 1.)

The canal commences at Clachnaharry, in the out-
skirts of the town of Inverness, and after six miles,
enters the first of the chain of lakes, Loch Neu, a
grand piece of water, 23 miles long, situated amidst
stupendous and sterile mountains. The waters of
Loch Ness never freeze, but they are often agitikted
simultaneously with the occurrence of earthquakes in
distant parts of the world. On an elevated rock pro-
jected into the north-east mai^in of Loch Ness, are
situated the remains of Urquhart Castle, consisting
of a great square keep and several exterior walls of
defence. It was besieged in 1303 by the officers of
Edward I., and with great difficulty taken ; it after-
wards was a royal fortress ; and finally, in 1509, it
became the property of Grant of Grant, ancestor of
the Earl of Seafield, to whom it now belongs. Glen
Urquhart, which recedes behind Urquhart Castle, is a
beautiful Highland vale, sometimes likened to Tempo,
and contaiumg many gentlemen's seats and a good
inn. The conspicuous mountain, Mealfowvmie (Hill
of the Cold Moor), upwards of 3000 feet in height, here
beffins to raise its huge bulk above the banks of the
loco. About 600 feet from the summit there is a lake
about a mile long, which cannot be much less than
3000 feet above the level of Loch Ness. On the top
of the hill there is a cum, the accumulation of which
must have been a work of great labour. Mealfour-
Tonie stands so prominently above the neighbouring
hills, that it is not only singled out by the eye at
Inverness, but is the first landmark seen on entering
the Moray Firth, at the distance of a hundred miles.

The road along the south side of Loch Ness, though
it presents numberless fine views, is enlivened by few
traces of man's presence. The paucity of houses gives
a sort of distinction to the inn named General's Hut,
nearly 18 miles from Inverness, originally the resi-
dence of General Wade, while superintending the for-
mation of his roads. Little more than a mile farther
on, a recess or chasm in the hill by the side of the lake
contains the celebrated Pail of Foyert, At the bottom
of the recess there is a smooth little plain, descending
upon the lake, ornamented by the house and shrub-
beries of Foyers, and where the steamers usually dis-
embark such passengers as may desire to behold the
waterfall. A path aocessible to carriages, winds back-
wards and forwards, up the face of the hill, till the
height of the public road is reached; and then there
is a pathway leading down the face of the crags, to-
wards a projecting rock, on which visitors usually stand
to see the FalL The Foywe is not a very copious stream,
except in rainv weather; consequently then are neat
Tariations in the aspect of the cascade. In its medium
fulness it poun through » hmxow guUot in the rook,

in a round unbroken stroam, which gradually whiteni
as it descends, till it falls into a half-seen profound,
usualljr desoril>ed as two hundred and forty leet below
the point of descent, though this is supposed to be
an exaggeration. A dense mist is constantly seen
rising from the broken water, like the heavenwurd as<
pirations of an afflicted and tortured spirit. The noise
IS usually very loud. About a quarter of a mile farther
up the ravine there is another cascade, usually called
the Upper Fall — a fearful gulf, down which the water
descends by three leaps, and over which a bridge has
been thrown, by way of station for a sight of the
cataract. The whole of this stupendous ravine is
covered by birches, on whose every leaf a pearl of
vapoury dew is constantly hiuiging.

A few miles farther on, (Henmorriion opens upon
the north-west bank of Loch Ness. It is a valley full
of romantic scenery, and belongs to a branch of the
family of Grant. While the steam-borne traveller
necessarily pursues the route by the lake, the traveller
by the south road, after passing Foyers, leaves the brink
of that piece of water, and advances into Stralherrick,
a long valley behind the line of hills which overlook
Loch Ness. A secluded valley called Killean, opening
upon this part of the road near Whitebridge, is spoken
of as a singularly secluded and romantic piece of scenery.
At the distance of thirty-two miles from Inverness, the
road descends upon Fort-Augustus and the little villMO
of Killicumming, so called as the burying-place of the
Cumminss, Lords of Badenoch.

Fort-Augtutui, situated in a pleasant opening amongst
the hills, at the termination of Loch Ness, was erected
in 1730 as an addition to the means proviously existing
for the control of the turbulent children of the moun-
tains. Its purposes being long since accomplished, it
has for many years been only occupied by two or three
artillerymen. From Fort- Augustus, the cut of the canal
is resumed, and several locks aro ascended; a very few
miles brings it to Loch Oich, the smallest of the chain
of lakes. The scenery is hero finer than at any other
part of the Great Glen. On the north-west bank of the
loch is Invergarry, till a recent period the rosidence of
the chief of Glengarry, a handsome modem building,
in the immediate neighbourhood of an older mansion,
which has been in ruins since burnt down by the kine's
troops in 174C, in consequence of the part taken by the
chief in the robellion.

The next and last loch is Lock Loehi/, the hills en-
vironing which aro the most hopelessly wild and stu-
pendous of all in the glen. The summit-level of the
canal is between Loch Oich and Loch Lochy, being
90 feet above the onlinary high-water mai-k at Fort-
William, and 94 above that at Inverness — a difie-
nnce to l>e accounted for by the pressuro of the
Atlantic on the west shores of Scotland. The lonely
little inn of Letter Findlay is the only house at first
seen on Loch Lochy; but when the west end is nearly
reached, the traveller discovers, in a recess on the
right side, the House of Auchnacarrie, which was the
residence of the gallant and unfortunate Locheil befora
he entered upon the fatal campaign of 1745. The canal,
after leaving this loch, descends in a precipitous series
of locks, called Neptune's Stairctue, into Loch Eil, a
continuation of Loch Linnhe, the arm of the sea for-
merly mentioned.

At this point the glen is more spacious than any-
where else. It is, however, the spaciousness of a moor.
The River Lochy, which issues from the lake of the
same name, pours its voluminous and impetuouii flood
towards Loch Eil on the left; and beyond it Ben Nevis
is seen to rear his enormous head, with the vale of
Glen Nevis withdrawing from his mighty side into the
solitudes of Lochaber. At the distance of little more
than a mile is the town of Fort- William, so called from
a fortress of the same name built for the ropression of
Highland turbulence, and now nearly disused.

A cluster of glens to the south of the Great Glen, is
remarkable for a natural phenomenon, usui^y called
th« Parallel Roadi nf Ofaaroy, sooh being the name of

600tLAHD.

ily whittni
. profound,
feet below
oted to be
lantly Men
enwMd M-
The noite
mile farther
i^ly called
I the water
bridge baa
jht of the
) rarine ii
a pearl of

openf upon
i viJley full
Mich of the
le traveller
,he traveller
08 the brink
Stratherriek,
ch overlook
An, opening
;e, is spoken
teofaoenety.
kvernesa, the
little village
place of the

king amongst
, was erected
iialy existing
f the moun-
implished, it
two or three
t of the canal
i; a very few
of the chain
at any other
t bank of the
rendenoe of
im building,
ler mansion,
>y the king's
";en by tne

iho hills eu<

lid and stU'

Llevel of the

jiochy, being

rk at Fort-

Iss — a diife-

sure of the

The lonely

kuse at first

|id is nearly

ass on the

lich was the

cheil before

The canal,

pitous series

joch Eil, a

the seafor-

than any.

I of a moor,
lake of the
btuouk flood

i Ben Nevis
|he vale of

ie into the
llittle more
Icalled from
Ipreision of

at Olen, is
liJly called
lie name of

the Tale in wkicli tlie wonder b moat conapicuoualy
marked. It consists of a set of terraces, in moat places
three in number, extending along both sidea of these
vales for many miles, the uppermost 82 feet above the
second, which, again, is 212 feet above the first. The
common people represent these terraces as roads formed
at the command of Fingal, an early hero, for his con-
venien<.ie in hunting; but they are in realitv ancient
beaches of 'uland aeaa — ^phenomena with which modem
geologista are familiar.

West <ni Islands.
The Weatem Islands are generally bleak and rugged
in surface, and occupied by a very poor class of ten-
antry. In aome of them, particularly Skye and Eigg,
the scenery attains to a savage grandeur. It is not
possible here to present a particular description of
any besides the Isle of Sterna, so remarkable for ita
basaltic structure. It is about 1^ miles in circumfe-
rence, and beara no human habitation, ita only useful
tenants being a small herd of black cattle. At the
point of greatest elevation towards the south-west, this
island is U4 feet high. On the north-eaat it presents
a face of somewhat less height, composed of Daaaltio
columna, and penetrated by several cavea of varioua
sizes, into which the sea occasionally breaks with the
report of thunder. This face, according to Dr Mac-
culloch, is lormed of three distinct beds of rock, of un-
equal thickness, inclined towards the east in an anele
of about 9 degrees: the lowp^t is a mde trap tufa; the
' middle one is divided into columns placed vertically to
the planes of the lowest bed; and the uppermost is an
irregular mixture of small columns and shapeless rock
—the whole being partially covered by a fine, verdure.
The central columnar part having in some places given
way, ie the occasion of the numerous cavea by which
the island seems perforated.

At the north-east point of the island, the dipping of
the rocks is so low as to afford a safe landing-place at
any time of the tide. Proceeding thence, the visitor is
conducted along the northreast face, and is introduced
to the Clam-shell (Scallop) Cave, wiiere a curious con-
fusion in the columnar structure is observable. The
columns on one side are bent, ao as to form a series of
ribs, not unlike the inside view of the timbers of a
ship; while the opposite wall is formed by the ends of
columns, bearing a general resemblance to the surface
of a honeycomb. This cave is 30 feet in height, and
16 or 18 in breadth at the entrance; its length being
130 feet, and the breadth contracting to the termina-
tion. Next occurs the noted rock, Btmchaille (the
Herdsman), a conoidal pile of columns, about 30 jfeet
high, lying on a bed of curved horizontal ones, visible
only at low water. There is here an e. '--ensive surface,
resembling that of the Giants' Causeway, and com-
posed of the broken ends of pillars once continuous to
the top of the cliff. The colonnade is now for some
distance upright and very grand, till the visitor reaches
the Uaimh Birm (Musical Cave), usually called Fia-
atU's Cave, by far the most impressive and interest-
uig object in the island. It opens from the sea with a
breadth of 42 feet, a height of 66 feet above the water
at mean tide, the pillar on one side being 36 feet high,
and that on the other 18. The depth of the recess is
227 feet, and the breadth at the inner termination 22.
The sides within are columnar throughout; the columns
being broken and grouped in many different ways, so
as to catch a variety of direct and reflected tints, mixed
with secondary shadowa and deep invisible recesses.
As the sea never ebbs entirely out, the only floor of
thia Deautiful cave ia the fine green water, reflecting
from its white bottom tinta which vary and harmonise
with the darker tones of the rock, and often throwing
on the columns flickering lights, which ita undulations
cttch from the rays of the sun without.

ANTIQUITIES, &0.

There are in Scotland, and particularly in the dia-
trict betrean the Firth of lay and Moray Firth, nume-

rous moundi, uprisht alab atontti and oured itonM,
which are suppoaed to have been raised as monuments
over alain warriors, by the early inhabitanta of the
country, or bv the Danes or other northern nationa who
occaaicnally invaded it in remote times. The moat re-
markable examplea of mounda are two at Dunipace
OB the Carron in Stirlingshire, and one at Fetteroaim
in Kincardineshire. A distinct class of mounds, called
moot or ntoat hUli, are common in the aouth-weatem
and aeveral other districts. Thev are generally of a
square form, with a flat top. It is believed that they
served as places for the administration of justice in
rude agea. Such ia the opinion of the antiquarjr,
who re^arda theae mounda aa artifMal, and raiaed for
a apecific purpose; I it to the geologist acquainted
with the phenomena ot iiisea beaches, moraines, and
denudationa, they appear, what in moat inataucea thev
really are, aubatantial natural accumulations, which
may have been employed by our early anoeatora as
above deacribed, but which aaauredly were never erected
by them. For a geological account of the mounda of
Dunipace the reader ia referred to an article in ' Cham-
bers's Journal,' No. 144, New Series.

Of the carved stones, a remarkable example exiata at
Forrea. It containa figurea of men and animala in
varioua compartmenta. There ia another very entire
and curioua apecimen at Aberlemno in Forfarshire. A
third at Mcigle is remarkable as containing a represen-
tation of one of the war-chariots used by the original
inhabitants of the country.

In the north of Scotland, and in Orkney, the^-e are
aome aurviving examples of a very remarkable class of
early buildings, to which the common people now give
the name of Pieta' Houses, aa supposing tnem to have
been built by the Picta. They are generally round
buildinga, of no great height, with round vaulted topa,
altogether built of coursea of dresaed atone without
mortar, and containing for the moat part one central
chamber, and aeveral long narrow receases in the thiok-
neaa of the wall. Circular mounds, the remains of
British and Danish camps, are common on the tops of
the Scottish hills, having probably been the places to
which the early people retired with their flocks in times
of danger. On several hills, particularly in Perthshire
and Inverness-shire, there are remains of walls, pre-
senting appearances as if the stony materials had been
artificially vitrified. It is not yet ascertained whether
these vitrified forts, as they are called, were works of
our Caledonian ancestors, or the effect of accident,
though the former is the more likely supposition.

The weapons used by the aboriginal people are often
found, consisting of stone axes, arrow-heads of flint,
&c. Necklaces, bracelets, and other ornaments used
bv them, barbarous in styln. but generally of gold, are
also often found. In various districts Druidical circles
stiU exist in a tolerably entire state; but none on so
large or regular a scale as those of Stonehenge and
Abury. There are remains of roads and camps formed
by the Romans in their hesitating and imperfect at-
tempts to aubdue North Britain; and of the wall built
under the Emperor AntonIr.us, between the Firtha of
Forth and Clyde, with forta at i«gular intervals, it ia
still possible to discern a few traces.

The next class of antique objects are the remains of
the Gothic fanes, reared on account of religion during
the period when the Romish church was triumphant.
These are everywhere very numerous, but in few oases
tolerably entire. Excepting two cathedrals, those of
Glasgow and Kirkwall (in Orkney), all of that class of
structures are in ruins. The abbeys, priories, and other
conventual and collegiate establishments, are in every
instance gone to decay. Melrose Abbey, the Cathedral
of Elsin, and the Collegiate Church of Roslin, are the
most beautiful of these ruinous buildings.

Numerous specimens of the towers and castles occu-
pied by men of note in the middle ages still exist,
though mostly in a decayed itate. Those which indi-
cate the gre-.test strength A«d conaequence are — Look'
mabtn cSuth, the leeiaeiioe of the firuoea, Loida of An>

236

CHAMBEBS'S INFOlElMATIOlf 1*08 THE PEOPLE.

nandale ; Hermitage (Boxbuwhihire), which belonged
to a powerful noble named Lord Soulit; Dou^ai, the
Ksidence of the Ewli of Douglas; Tumberry (Ayr-
•hire), the residence of -the Earls of Carrick; Bothwell,
another stronghold of the Douglases; Tantallm (Had-
dingtonshire), the residence of the Earls of Angus, a
branch of the Douglas family; Dunnoitw (Kincardine-
shire), the seat of the Earls Mareschal; and Doune
(Perthshire), the stronghold of Robert Earl of Fife,
brother of Robert III., and governor of Scotland. Four
places of strength, Edinburgh, Slirling, Dumbarton, and
Bbiekna* CatUes, are still kept in repMr at the public
expense, and serve as barracks for foot soldien.

The maMMiM of the nobility and gentry of Scotland
do not differ in any important respect from similar
classes of structures in England. The * hall ' is, how-
ever, completely wanting in Scotland, and there are
comparatively few specimens of the Elizabethan style.
Turbulent times being more recent in Scottish than in
English history, the chief mansions of an unfortified
character in the northern kingdom are not of earlier
date than the reign of Charles II., and most of them
are much later. In many instances, the whole or part
of the original castellated buildings which stood on the
_same site have been retained.

In the reign of Charles II., mansions ''ere for the
first time built in anything like pur^ Grecian taste.
This was introduced by Sir William Bruce of Kinross,
Bart., an architect of considerable skill, and of whose
works the modem Holyrood Palace, and his own house
of Kinross, are examples. During the last century, the
mansions built in Scotland have partaken of all the
changes of taste passing throush England, from the
heavy barrack-like structures of Sir John Vanburgb,
to the light and elegant Grecian style of Adam. We
have now chateaux in the style of the middle nges;
Grecian structures by Adam; mansions in the Doric
and more sombre Grecian style since introduced ; and
very lately, a few specimens in the priory and Eliza-
bethan styles. (See Architecture, Vol. I.)

CHIEF CITIES, TOWNS, FORTS, &C.

Edinburgh, the capital, is situated in the county of
the same name, on a cluster of eminences, distant
tetween 1^ and 3 miles from the Firth of Forth.
The city is composed of two principal parts, the Old
and New Towns; the former being built on a long nar-
row eminence gently rising towards the west, where it
terminates in a lofty and abrupt rock, on which the
castle is situated ; while the latter occupies lower ground
towards the north. The town is universally built of a
fair sandstone, which retains its original colour in the
newer parts of the town and in the hest public build-
ings, and forms one of the most important features of
Eainbui^'h. The New Town is laid out on a regular
plan of rectangular streets and squares, exhibiting in
general much architectural elegance. Between the
Old and New Towns, and between various sections of
the New Town itself, as well as in the centres of the
principal squaref, there are gardens laid out in the
modem landscape style, forming delightful places of
recreation. It is chiefly owing to the unequal ground
on which Edinburgh is situated, the massive elegance
and regularity of its buildings, the intermixture of
ornamental pleasure-ground, and the picturesque hills
Immediately adjacent, whence distant and extensive
prospects arc commanded, that this city makes so great
an impression on most strangers.

Formerly the seat of the govemment of the country,
Edinburgh is still that of the supremo law-courts and
of a flourishing university. It is also to a great extent
a city of residence, not only for affluent persons con-
nected with the country, but for strangers desirous of
enjoying a society of moderate habits, and the benefits
of education for their children. Its leading classes are
thus composed of legal practitioners, learned persons,
and families in independent circumstances. It is only
in a imall degree a manufacturing town, the principal
trades being toe brewing of ide (for which the town is
239

celebrated), coachmaking, the weaving of shawls, and
the printing and issuing of literary productions. The
leading periodical publications are the Edinburgh and
North BritI h Reviews, Blackwood and Tait's Maga-
zines, a Philosophical and Medical Journal, one or
two Ecclesiastical Magazines, besides several weekly
sheets of extensive circulation. The town is distin^
guished for its numerous banking institutions, whiclt
exert an influence on the general trade of the country.
Within a few miles of the city, on the Esk River, there
are various paper-mills, at which vast quantities of
paper are made, both for the home trade and for ex-
portation to London. The dty is now the centre of
the Scottish railway traffic, having lines and telegraphs
communicating with Perth, Dundee, and Aberdeen, on
the north; with Glasgowon the west; with the west of
England via Carlisle ; and with the east of England
via Berwick and Newcastle. The transit to London
can be made in twelve hours, and communications by
telegraph in less than an hour.

Amongst the remarkable objects in the city, the
most striking is the Castle, a large fortress romantically
situated on the summit of a mass of igneous rock, be-
tween 200 and 300 feet in sheer height. , It contains,
besides various batteries and other fortifications, an
ancient palace, in which Queen Mary was delivered of
her son James I. of Oreut Britain, and a modem bar-
rack, in which a foot regiment is usually quartered. In
a well-protected room are shown the crown, sceptre,
mace, and sword, which formed the regalia of the
Scottish line of princes. The Courts of Law are situ-
ated in the centre of the Old Town, and are composed
of a great hall, formerly the meeting-place of the
Scottish Parliament, rooms for the two various divi-
sions of the civil court and for the lords ordinary, a
room for the High Court of Justiciary (supreme crimi-
nal court), and other accommodations. The extensive
libraries belonging respectively to the Advocates (bar-
risters) and Writers to the Signet (solicitors) are
adjacent; the former being a collection of upwards of
150,000 volumes. Holyroodhouse, the palace of the
Scottish kings, is situated at the lower extremity of
the principal street of the Old Town. The oldest part
is a mass of building erected by James V., containing
the presence-chamber, bedroom, and other apartments,
used by Queen Mary, with some of the origmal furni-
ture ; as also a gallery, furnished with (generally
imaginary) portraits of the kings of Scotland. The
apartments of the queen are to be regarded with no
ordinary interest, both as furnishing a curious and
faithful memorial of the domestic accommodations of a
princess of the sixteenth century, and on account of
that extraordinary incidr: \ the murder of David
Rizzio, which took place within them. Another part
of the building, erected in the reign of Charles II.,
contains the apartments used by George IV. for his
levee in 1822, and a suite of rooms which furnished
accommodation to Charles X. of France and his family,
during the years 1831-2-3. Closely adjoining to the
palace are the ruins of a Gothic church, oridnally that
of the Abbey of Holyrood, and latterly a chapel-royal.

The College is a large modem quadrangular build-
ing, in the southern quarter of the city. It contains
ci<vs8-rooms fo' the professors (33 in number), a library
of splendid j- .'oportions and decoration, and an exten-
sive museuT.t of natural history. The university is
chiefly distinguished as a school of medicine; but it is
also the means of preparing a great number of the
native youth for the professions of law and divinity.
The Register-House is a beautiful building, planned by
Adam, in a conspicuouii part of the New Town ; it con-
tains the records connected with the legal business of
the country. The Royal Institution is the general
appellation of an elegant building facing the centre of
Prmces Street, and containing halls for various public
bodies, as the Royal Society of Edinburgh, the Anti-
quarian Society of Scotland, the Scottish Academy of
Painting and Sculpture, and an academy for instruc-
tion in drawing. Of places of worship, the most te-

SCOTLAND.

it con-
iiiincM of

general
I centre of
lis public
|he Anti-

lemy of

initruc-
Imoft te-

markable u« St Oilea'i Church in the Old Town (once
the cathedral), a Gothic building of the fifteenth cen-
tury, lately renorated; St George's, St Stephen's, and
St Andrew's, modem churches of the establishment;
and St Paul's and St John's, elegant Gothic chapels of
the Episcopalian body. There are two Roman Catholic
chapels, and many dissenting places of worship. Of
the other public buildings, the most remarkable are
the Infirmanr; the hospitals for the maintenance and
education of poor children, of which Heriot's and
Donaldson's are the most elegant; the Sureeons' and
Physicians' Halls; and the offices of the Bmik of Scot-
land, of the Royal, Commercial, and other banks. On
the Calton Hill are situated some other public struc-
tures, as the County Jail and Bridewell; monuments to
Nelson, Dugald Stewart, Bums, and Professor Playfair;
an astronomical observatory, and a small portion of a
building designed as a national monument to the
Scotsmen who perished in the last war, but which will

Srobably never be completed. In Princes Street Gar-
ens stands the monument erected in honour of Sir
Walter Scott — a superb structure of Gothic design,
and undoubtedly one of the leading ornaments of the
city. The population of Edinburgh and Leith in 1821
was 138,235; in 1831, 162,403; and in 1841, 166,450.

Leith, ihe seaport of Edinburgh, but an indendepent
parliamentary burgh, is situated at the efflux of the
rivi'.let of the same name, which originally constituted
its harbour. The older part of the town is crowded
and mean, but in the outskirts there are some good
streets. The town is connected with Edinburgh by a
broad and beautiful road, above a mile in length, de-
nominated Leith Walk. Besides the quays skirting
ihe embouchure of the river, there is a range of wet-
' : . and extensive operations are now in progress
'1. 'J improvement of the harbour, which lam>urs
.\'.k, 9dveral heavy natural disqualifications. During
. j.i. .ig - tides, the utmost depth of water on the bar
at the mouth of the river is 17 feet — during neap-
tides, 14 feet; and it is rarely that a vessel of 400
tons can gain admission. The want of deep water
at Leith is partly supplied by a small harbour at New-
haven, an extensive and substantial stone -pier at
Granton, and a chain-pier at Trinity, which serve as
places of embarkation and debarkation for steamers
and other vessels devoted chiefly to passengers. The
chief foreign trade of Leith is with the ports in the
Baltic and north of Europe; next to this in importance
ranks its intercourse witn the West Indies. But the
imports of Leith are chiefly for local consumption, and
bear little reference to the great manufacturing busi-
ness of the country. For the coasting trade there are
various companies, each of which has several vessels in
employment. Amongst the ports with which regular
intercourse is carried on by steam, -may be mentioned
London, Hull, Newcastle, Dundee, Aberdeen, Hamburg,
and Rotterdam. The tonnage belonging to Leith is
somewhat stationary: it was, in 1826, 25,674; in 1832,
23,094; in 1835, 22,073; and in 1845, 22,258— of
which 2,750 belonged to vessels under 50 tons burthen,
and 19,508 to vessels upwards of 50 tons. In the same
year the number of sailing vessels under 50 tons was
100; above 50 tons, 118. Besides the above there
were 8 steamers under 50 tons, having an aggregate
tonnage of 199 ; and 9 steamers above 50 tons, having
an aggregate tonnage of 1,972. In 1844 the nett
receipt of customs' duties was £500,924; in 1845 it
was £606,407. In Leith there are several breweries,
. a sugar-refining establishment, and several manuiac-
tories of soap, candles, ropes, und glass. The Custom-
house, an elegant modem building, is the seat of the
Board of Customs for Scotland. In 1831 the popula-
tion of Leith was 25,855 ; in 1841, 33,473. The town,
in union with Newhaven, Portobello, and Musselburgh,
returns a member to parliament.

Ohugow, the most populous city in Scotland, occupies
a highly advantageous situation on the banks of the
Clyde, in Lanarkshire, a few miles from the place where
the riTer ezpandi into an estuary, 42 mil^s from Edin-

burgh, 897 from Lond9n, and 196 from Dublin. The
externa! appearance of this great cit^ is el'.gant and
impressive. The streets are regular m arrangement,
and substantially built of smooth stone. The public
buildings are in general handsome, and in most in-
stances disposed in such a manner as to be seen to
advantage. The mc-^ ancient part of the city extends
along the line of the High Street, between the Cathe-
dral and the river; the more modem and elegant part
stretches towards the north-west. On the left banlc of
the river, and connected by three bridges, is situated
the populous barony of Gorbals, bearing the same re-
fei-ence to Glasgow which Southwark bears to London.
Westward from the lowest of ti e bridges, both sides of
the river are formed into quays, which, owing to recent
operations for deepening the channel, are now ap-
proached by vessels drawing about fourteen or fifteen
feet water. The quay on me north bank is denomi-
nated the Sroomielaw: it was recently extended to 3340
feet in length, while that on the south bank is 1260
feet; and is still, along with the entire navigation of
the river, undergoing important improvements.

Glasgow took its rise as a dependency of the cathe-
dral ot the bishops (latterly archbishops) of the see
bearing its name. It was not, however, till long after
the Reformation that it became a seat of cousiderable
population. About the middle of the eighteenth cen-
tury, it had acquired a considerable share of the import
colonial trade, which it still reti.iis; but during the
last seventy years, it has chiefly b >en distinguished as
a seat of manufactures. The wearing of lawns, cam-
brics, and similar articles, commenced in Glasgow in
1725. The advantages enjoyed by the city for the im-
portation of cotton, m time gave a greater impulse to
that species of manufacture. In ] "34, out of 134 cot-
ton-factories existing in Scotland, 100 belonged to
Glasgow and its neighbourhood ; and the importation
of cotton into that port amount'iid to 95,703 bales. In
the weaving of this material, uy«wards of 15,000 power-
looms, and 32,000 handloom if lavers, were at the same
time employed by the uianuf>i;tUk-ers of Glasgow. In
1845 there were in Glaseowaud neighbourhood, 784,756
spindles, and 7847 workerc; 17,620 power-looms, and
11,200 workers. The value of t'jj spinning-factories
was estimated at £784,756 ; vl the power-loom or
weaving factories, at £264,300. The calico-printing
establishments, connected with the chief manufacture,
are between 40 and 50 in number. It would be vain
to attempt an exact eni^meration of the less pro-
minent features of the lusipess carried on in Glas-
gow. The chief articles of importation besides cotton
are sugar, mm, tea, tobacco, and timber. The chief'
articles manufactured or prepared besides cotton goods
are sugar, soap, glass, iron, ropes, leather, chemical
stufis, and machiueiy. There were recently seven na-
tive banks, and several branches of other banks. Dur-
ing a year, extending from a certain period in 1839 to
a certain period in 1840, 5484 vessels, of 296,302 ton-
nage, arrived at the Glasgow harbour; the customhouse
revenue of 1839 was £468,975, and the harbour dues
of the twelvemonth ending August 31 of Vhat year were
£45,826. In 1845, 438 vessels belonged to Glasgow,
with an aggregate burthen of 117,000 tons; and in the
same year the gross receipts at the customhouse were
£551,851. It is worthv of remark, that the Clyde was
the first river in the elder hemisphere on which steam
navigation was exemplified. A steam-vessel of three-
horse power was set afloc 1. on the river in January 1812,
by Mr Henry Bell of Helensburgh; and there were
twenty such vessels on the Clyde before one had dis-
turbed the waters of the Thames. In 1845 there were
sixty-seven steam-vessels, of 11,100 aggregate tonnage,
connected with Glasgow, eighteen, of which plied to
Liverpool, Beltust, Dublin, and Londonderry. Within
the last few yeitrs tho city has become a great centre
of the iron trade, thi' metal being produced in thei
neighbourhood to an annual amount of not less than
200,000 tons. As a necessary consequence of the com-
merce and manufactures which flourish in Glasgow,

?37

CHAUBEPS'S INF0BHATI09 FOB THE PEOPLE.

the city hM a rut nitU tnd* in aU the itHielM of
luxurr and necessity which aw vA by human beinn.
Bat no draumitanoe connected irith Olaseow could
giro so inipreisiTe an idea of the heij(ht to .Thich busi-
ness haa been carried in it, as the rapid advance and
present gieat amount of its population. By the census
of 1791, the inhabitants were 6S/)78; and by the first
goTemment census in 1801, they were 77,385. But
Uiese numbers have been increased in 1811 to 110,74i>>;
in 1821 to 147,048; in 1831 to 202,426; and in 1841
to 274,333 — a mass of population which, at the time of
the Union, could not have been dreamt of as likely
eTer to exist in any Scottish cicy.

The Cathedral, or Hig'i Church, is situated in the
northern outskirts of thn '^ near the upper extremity
of the High Street. Th>' ^xk of the existing building
was constructed at the ciose of the twelfth century, in
place of another which had been consecrated in 1136,
but was destroyed by fire. It consists of a long nave
and choir, a chapter-house projecting from the north-
east angle, a tower and spire in the centre, and a crypt
extending beneath the choir or eastern portion of the
building. In the nars.. tenned the Outer High Kirk,
was held the celebrated General Asgenibly of the
Church, NoTcmber 1038, by which Episcopacy was
abolished and pure Presbytery replaced — the first
great movement in the civil war.

The elevated ground near the east end of the Cathe-
dra! has been fonned into an ornamental place of
sepulture, under the appellation of the Necropolis.
Since 1831, the Socie'.y of Merchants, its proprietors,
have expended the sum o^ £6000 in laying out al>out
twenty-four acres of ground in walks and shrublMiries,
and in connecting the spot with the opposite slope by
meanr^ of a bridge across the intermediate rivulet.
The taste manifested in the whole scheme and in its
execution is extremely creditable to the city. The
walks, several miles in extent, command an extensive
view of the neighbourina; country. They are skirted
bv numberless sepulchral plots and excavations, where
already afi«ction has been busy in erecting its 'frail
memorials,' all of which, it may be mentioned, are
fashioned according to certain regulations, with a view
to general keeping and effect.

The College buildings are situated on the east side
of the High Street, about half-way between the Cathe-
dral and the Trongate. They consist in a sort of
double court ; the fi'ont which adjoins to the street
being 330 feet in length, and three storeys in height.
The vrhc'e edifice has a dignified and venerable ap-
pearance. A large piece of ground behind the Col-
lege U formed into a park or green, interspersed with
trees and hedges, and always kept in grass, to be uaed
by the students as a place of exercise or amusement.
In the College there are appointed professors or teachers
of about thirty branches of science, theology, and polite
literature. At the back of the interior couio btands
the modem Orecian building which contains the Hun-
terian Museum. This is a large collection of singular
natural objects, coins, medals, rare manuscripts, paint-
ings, and relics of antiquity, originally formed by Dr
William Hunter, the celebrated anatomist, and be-
queathed by him to this university, at which he receivrd
his education. While the College confers professional
education, popul.ir instruction is attainable, under
unusually advantageous circumstances, through the
medium of the Andersonian Institution, an extensive
school of science founded at the close of the last cen-
tury, and connected with which there is a general
museum, containing many curious objects, and con-
stantly open to the public.

The most attractive modem building in Glasgow is
the Ro/al Exchan^ge in Queen Street, a most superb
structure, erected m 1829, as a point of assemblage for
the merchants in the western part of the city. The
principal room is a large hall, supported by a double
row of columns, and used as a reading-room. The
front of i,he Exchange consiswS of a magnificent por-
tico, Mirmoonted by » cupola ; am! to M^e building
2tB

ill isolated, the other sides are also of deeorative aTchi<
tecture. Altogether this building, supported by a set
of ve^ elegant domestic structures of similarly august
propcrtions, impresses the mind of a stranger as some-
thmg LMgnally worthy of a mat city.

Since the Reform Act of 1832, Glasgow has the pri-
vilege of returning two members to parliament. The
places of worship, charitable and educational institu-
tions, and associations of various kinds for public ob<
jects, are ver^ numerous. A laudable zeal for the im-
provement of education marks the city; and a normal
school, or seminary for the reaiing of teachers — the
first in the empire — has been erected under the auspices
of a private society.

The means of communication in connection with
Glasgow, are suitable to the character of the city aa
one of the greatest emporia of commerce and manufac-
ture in the v, orld. Besides a river, navigable by ves-
sels drawing fifteen feet of water, and which gives the
means of a ready communication with the western
shores of Britain, with Ireland, and with Amwica, the
Forth and Clyde Canal, of which a branch comes to
Port-Dundas, in the northern suburbs, serves toi con-
vey goods and passengers to the eastern shores of the
island, while canals of less note connect the city with
Paisley and Johnstone in one direction, and with the
great coal-fields of Monkland in the other. There is also
railway communication connecting it with Edinburgh
and the north of Scotland on the one hand, and with
the south of Scotland and England on the other. The
steam communication between Glasgow and Livery ool,
Dublin and ot-.her Irish ports, is conducted on a scale
which may be vailed grand. The vessels are superb in
magnitude, decoration, and power; and they sail fre-
quently and rapidly. The steam intercourse between
Glasgow and various places in Scotland, both for pas-
sengers and objects of traffic, is also conducted on a
great scale : among the places touched at in the Clyde
and to the south are Greenock, Dumbarton, Dunoon,
Rothesay, Arran, Gourock, Troon, and Ayr. Among the
places to the north to which vessels sail regularly are
Inverary, Campbeltown Obon, Stafi^a and lona. Mull,
Arisaig, Skye, Stornowa^' , and Inverness. In opening
up markets for West Highland produce, and intro-
ducing luxuries in return, these vessels hs^e also been
of marked service, insomuch that the value of property
in these hitherto secluded districts has experienced a
veiy considerable rise.

The country around Glasgow, particularly towards
the south, abounds in busy towns and villages, of the
former of which the most remarkable is Paisley, situ-
ated in Renfrewshire, on the banks of the small river
Cart, 'i miles from the city above described. The
external appearance of this tovin is pleasing, and the
streets are in general composed of substantial build-
ings. It originated from an abbey founded in 1160 by
Walter, the first of the Stewarts, and of which con-
siderabie remains still exist. Paisley is a noted sect
of the manufacture of shawls, and also of cotton thread,
gauzes, and velvets. In the town and Abbey parish,
excluBive of the large village of Johnstone, there were
lately three cotton spinning-mills, and seven or eight
thread-mills; two steam-loom factories; six flour-miTls;
a calico-printing work ; many bleaching-works and dye-
houses ; three breweries and two distilleries ; several
timber yards; and several iron and brass foundries; an
alum and coperas work, a soap work, and a tan-yard.
An idea of the present extent of manufactures, in
comparison with what it was in the last age, may be
obtained from the fact, that while the whole of the
manufactures in 1760 amounted to £15,000, the annual
computed value of the goods made in and around the
u."vn * lew years ago was £2,000,000.

Paisley has been changed by the Reform Acts from
a burgh of barony into a parliamentary burgh of the
first class, returning one member, divided into wards
for municipal purposes, and mana^d by sixteen coun-
cillors, including a provost, four bailies, and a treasurer.
Being, ^ough not tJie county town, the leat of th^

re archi-

I by a «et

ly august

as tome'

a the pri-
mt. The
1 inititu-
public ob-
>r the im-
a nonnal
lien — the
e auspices

^ion with

he city as

manufac-

le by Tes-

i ^Tes the
le western
nerica, the
I comes to
■es ta con-
>re8 of the
e city with
i with the
here is also
Edinburgh
, and with
ither. The
Liverjool,
1 on a scale
e superb in
ley sail fre-
•Be between
9th for pas-
lucted on a
a the Clyde
)n, Dunoon,
Among the
gularly are
lona, Mull,
In opening
and intro-
>e also been
|of property
penenced a

|rly towards
tges, of the
aUley, situ-
[sroall river
Hbed. The
ig, and the
Ltial build,
lin 1160 by
Iwhich con-
noted sect
iton thread,
[bey parish,
there were
^n or eight
tour-mills;
IS and dye-
k»; several
tndries; an
tan-yard,
lactures, in
ge, may be
^ole of the
Ithe annual
laround the

J Acts from
Irgh of the
llnto wards
Iteen ooun-
i treaeurer.
at of th«

BCOTLASD.

sheriff oonrt, U if adoned by a lane modem castellated
building, containing a jau, bridewell, and series of
court-rooms^ but unfortunately the edifice is placed in
a low situation, without reference to salubrity or exter-
nal influences. Devoted as the inhabitants of Paisley
are to the pursuits of busmess, they have long been
honourably remarkable for a spirit of inquiry and a
desire for intellectual improvement. The population
of Pusley, like that of Glasgow, has experienced a very
rapid advance : the inhabitants of the town and sur-
rounding parochial district, in 1821,amob.-<tedto47,003;
in 1831 to 57,466; and in 1841 to 60,48'^.

Notwithstanding the inland situaUon of Paisley, its
means of communication are unusually facile and
ample. The White Cart, navigable from its efflux into
the Clyde to the Sneddon in the outskirts of Paisley,
presents s'l the advantages of a canal. A canal leaves
the southern suburbs of Glasgow, and passing Paisley;
terminates at Johnstone. Paisley is also benefited by
the Glasgow and Ayr Railway, which passes it, as well
as by the other lines which centre in Glasgow.

In Henfrewshire also is situated Oreenock, till re-
cently the greatest seaport of the kingdom as far as
customhou3e receipts form a criterion, these having
been, in 1834, £482,138 in gross amount. Of late, the
port of Greenock has been on the decline, in conse-
quence of the improvement of the river to Glasgow: in
1845 the gross customhouse receipts were less than
£348,000 ; while Glasgow was £498,000 ; and Leith,
£628,000. This town occupies a strip of sloping ground
facing towards the Firth of Clyde, at the distance of 24
miles from Glsegow. In the seventeenth century iw
was a mere hamlet ; now it is a handsome town of
about 40,000 inhabitants; its population in 1841 being
36,936 ; containing harbcurs and quays of 2200 feet in
extent, to whi^h belonged, in the same year, 422 ves-
sels, of 82,200 tonnage. It is now, moreover, by virtue
of the recent Reform Acts, a parliamentary burgh of
the first class, returning one member to parliament.
The principal branches of commerce conducted in
Greenock have reference to the East and West Indies,
the United States, and British America, to which last
it Yearly sends out |rreat numbers of emigrants. Sugar-
baking and ship-building are other branches of industry
carried on here to a great extent. The Customhouse,
fronting to the Firth of Clyde, is a beautiful Grecian
builduig, erected in 1818 at an expense of £30,000.
The "ontine Hotel — situated in one of the principal
streets, and containing a large public room, 12 sitting-
rocms, and 30 bedrooms — was built in 1801 by 4'>0
subscribers of £25 each, the whole expense being tl.us
£10,000. There is also an elegant building, in tho
character of an Exchange, which cost £7000, and con-
tains, besides two spacious assembly rooms, a reading-
room, to which strangers are admitted gratuitously f'^r
six weeks. In Greenock there are two native ba.i&8,
besides branches of several others.

Jam*^ Watt, the improver of the steam-engine, was
bom 11 Greenock in 1736; and an institution for lite-
rary and scientific purposes, designed to serve as a
monument to him, and termed the Watt Institution,
was completed several years ago. The situation of the
town, on the shore of a land-locked basin of the Firth
of Clyde, with the mountain*) of Argyleshire and Dum-
bartonshire rising on the opposite side, is very fine.

Amongst Scottish towns, Aberdeen ranks next to
Edinburgh and Glasgow. It is situated in the county
named from it, on a level piece of ground between the
effluxes of the rivers Dee and Don, 110 miles from
Edinburgh. Its external appearance produces a favour-
able impression; the principal streets are straight and
regular, and the buildings at OF'e substantial and ele-
gant, the chief material used in constructing them being
a gray granite found here in great abundance. Nnw
AMrdeen, or what is now generally called Aberdeen,
is close to the efflux of the Dee, the mouth of which
forms its harbour; and Old Aberdeen, where tho an-
cient Cathedral and King's College are situated, is a
companUively u&all towoi about a milo distant, on the

bank of the Don. The anragate population, according
to census 1841, was 64,767.

Aberdeen is a city of great antiquity. It became the
seat of a uc'versity by the ereetion of Kiog'a College
in Old Aberdeen in 1495; Marcschal College, in New
Aberdeen, was ad -led in 1593. By the recent Reform
Acts it is a royal burgh of the fiirst class, divided into
districts for municipal purposes, and returning one
member to parliament. Aberdeen ie at once a seat
of manufactures and a seaport. There are several
houses engaged in the cotton manufacture, a few ia
the woollen trade, and three or four in flax-spinninff
and the weaving of linen. Ship-building, iron-found-
ing, comb-makmg, rope -making, and paper -makina
are also carried on to a great extent. The fisheries <n
the River Dee, uid the export of granite, are source!
of considerable income. Of the exports for the year
1836, we may notice, as indicating at once the extent
and nature of the agricultural and manufacturing pro>
ducts of the district, the following items: — Flax manu-
factures, 30,482 barrel bulk; cotton manufactures,
16,336 do.; woollen manufactures, 20.043 do.; oats,
69,239 quarters; meal, 13,375 bolls; shoep and lambk
1407; pigs, 3034; butter, 9261 owts.; eggs, 8120 barrel
bulk; pork, 6006 cwts.; salmon,7757 do.; granite stones,
1738 tons. The chief imports are— coal, of which there
was unloaded, during the same jear, 371,914 bolls;
lime, cotton, flax, wool, wood, wheat, flour, salt, iron,
whale-blubber, and miscellaneous goods, consisting of
groceries, &c. There were in 1836 belonging to the
port of Aberdeen 360 vessels, tonnage 42,080, employ-
ing 3110 men; in 1845 there were 322 sailing vessels,
with a tonnage of 48,559 ; and 14 steamers, with a
tonnage of 3951. The gross receipts of the custom-
house in 1846 was £76,259.

Aberdeen is entered from the south by Union Street,
an elegant double line of buildings, 1 mile in length and
70 feet wide, in the centre of which a ravine, pervaded
by a rivulet, is crossed by a noble arch of 132 feet in
span, upon a rise of 22. King Street, which opens
up the city from the north, is 60 feet wide, and con-
tains many splendid edifices. Besides these two main
streets, there is a cousideraole number of modem
squares and terraces. The public buildings are much
scattered, but are generally of an elegant appearance.
The Public Rooms, erected by the gentlemen of the
counties of Banfij Aberdeen, Kincardine, and Forfar,
for meetings, dancing assemblies, &c., and partly occu-
pied as a reading-room, constitute a handsome Grecian
structure, fronting to Union Street. On the north
side of Castle Street stands the Town-house, and in
the centi'e is the Crosi, a curious structure re-erected in
1822, and containing sculptures- of eight Scottish sove-
rei^s between Jameu I. and James VII. Mareschal
College, formerly a plain old structure, has lately been
re-edified in handsome style, chiefly at the expense of
the nation. King's College consists of a handsome but
ill-assorted quai&angle, surmounted by a fine tower
and spire. The two colleges are attended by about 500
students, nearly equally divided between them. In
Old Aberdeen are also to be seen the remains of the
Cathedral, consisting of the nave of the original build-
ing, with two towers at the west end. The ceiling is
composed of oak, cut out into forty -eight compart-
ments, each displaying in strong colours the armorial
bearings of some ek linent person, whose name is given
below m Latin, and in the old Gothic character.

Dundee, situated in Forfarshire, on the shore of the
Firth of Tay, may be considered as the fourth town in
Scotland, whether in population or in the importance
conferre'k by wealth. It is a busy seaport, and the
chief seat of the linen manufacture in Scotland, and
indeed in Great Britain. A series of docks, the erec-
tion of which cost about £400,000, extend along the
shore, where, a century ago, there was only a small
quay in the form of a crooked wall. In 1845 Dundee
had 44 vessels under 50 tons, givLag 1599 tonnage; 26C
above 50 tons, giving 46,376 tonnage ; and 8 steamert

- - -- The

of 1560 tonnage.

gross leceipte at the custom-
839

OHAMBEBS'tl INFORMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

Loom Muounud in th« mn« ytt to £43,787. In 1815
the harbour doM amounted (o £4,411 only; but in 1846
they exceeded £25,000. ' In 1745,' Mya Mr M'Cul-
lo^, • only 74 toni of Am wjre imported. From that
period to 1791 the progrew of the manufacture waa
mote rapid : in the latter year 2444 tons of flax and
2S9 tone of hemp being imported, and about 8,000,000
yard* of linen, lail-cloth, ko. exported. Previouily to
thia period all the yam uaed in the manufacture waa
■pun upon the common hand-wheel, partly in the town,
and partly in the adjacent country ; but the apinning
of yam by machinery began soon after to be introduced,
and the iucreaaed facility of production, consequent to
the erection of flax-mills, haa been such, that the cost
of the yam, including of course the raw material, is
now leaa than the mere exTftnse of spinnine amounted
to 40 years ago I In 1811, ' • >ning-mills had been
constructed in Dundee : la ' the number was in-
creased to 31 ; and in 1846 I - .fe*^ 50 1 The imports
of flax in 1845 amounted to .',8Ga tons; flax codilla,
9198 tons; heinp, 1200; ju,'«, 9'.m. The exports in the
same year Were 77,000 pieces Osnaburgs; 282,000 pieces
■heetinee; 952 cotton bagging; 28,000 sundries; 160,000
■ail-cloth; 133,000 sacking; 73 dowlas; and 30 sun-
dries. The entire annual value of the linen goods
manufactured in Dundee are estimated at £1,600,000!
Besides the factories connected with the linen trade,
there are seTeral extensive machine-factories, candle-
factoriea, augar-refineriea, and establishments for rope-
making and ahip-building. Thia great hive of induatry
contained in 1881 a population of 46,355, which in
1841 had increaaed to 62,794, of w^-'m about one-fifth
part are engaged in the linen manv.<icture. The town
u represented in parliament by one member.

Dundee contains one handsome place, denominated
the High Street, in the centre of the town, and several
other ^od streets; but the most elegant and commo-
dious private dwellings take the form of suburban
rillas. There is a handsome modem building, serving
the purposes of an Exchange and reading-room, besides
which the most conspicuous public buildings are the
Town-House and a building comprehensively called
the Seminaries, oontainins an academy and grammar-
■chool. The High Church of Dundee was an interest-
ing building of the thirteenth century, with a massive
tower 156 feet high; but the whole structure, except-
ing the steeple, waa destroyed by fire in January 184U
it haa aince oeen rebuilt after an equally elegant and
more commodioua stvle. Dundee is now connected by
railways with all the principal towns, and through
them with England. It also carries on a regular steam
intercourse with London.

Perth, the chief town of the county of the same
name, is celebrated on account of its elegant appear-
ance, and the beautiful situation which it enjoys on the
banks of the Tay, here a broad and majestic stream.
Umbrella-cloths, ginghams, handkerchiefs, and shawls
are manufactured in Perth in considerable quantities,
the number of weavers employed being 1600; and there
are a flax spinning-mill and an extensive bleachfield.
The river being navigable to this >lace for small ves-
sels, there is a harl>our, chieflv fo coasting trade. In
1845 there were 89 vessels belonging to the place, the
tonnage of which amounted to 8828; the gross receipt
of customhouse dues was £ 1 2,572. The salmon fisheries
on the river are a source of considerable income: the
fish are sent to London in boxes, the number of which
in 1345 was 6000, amounting to 300 tons. Perth had
in 1831 a population of 20,016; and in 1841, 19,293.
It is represented by one member in parliament.

The streets of Perth are generally rectangular, and
well built of stone. The river is spanned by a aubstui-
tial bridse, connecting the town with a small auburb
on the other side, and forming part of the great north
road. The town containa moat of the public buildings
found in places of airailar character and magnitude :
the ancient Church of St John, an elegant auite of
county buildinga, an academy, and Town- Hall, are thoae
moat entitled to notice within the town. In the envi«
240

rona, becidca a Innatio aaylam, there ia the General
Penitentiary for Scotland, under the improved Priaona
Act of 1841. The beautv and aalubrity of Perth are
much enhanced by two beautiAil piecea of adjacent
public ground, reapectively entitled the North Inch
and South Inch. In the midat of a highlv cultivated
vale, pervaded by a great river, and with lofty moun-
taina in the distance, Perth, especially when its own
neat api)earance is considered, may be said eminently
to deserve its appellation of ' the fair city.' It is now
connected by railway with Dundee and the north on
the one hand, and with Glasgow, Edinburgh, aad the
south, on the other.

I)iti[firiei, the principal town of Dumfriesshire (71
miles from Edinburgh, and 34 from Carlisle), enjoys a
beautiful situation on the Nith, which is navigable to
nearly this point for small vessels. The population
has varied little since 1821, being in that year 11,052;
in 1831, 11,606; and in 1841, 11,069. Dumfries has
a few small manufactures, but its chief importance
rests in its character as a kind of provincial capital
and seat of the county courts, and as an entrepot for
the transmission of cattle and pork to the English
market. Eighty-four vessels belons to the port, with *
an aggreg&te tonnage of 5783; and steam-vessels sail
regularly to Liverpool. The town has a neat and clean
appearance, has some haiidaome public buildings, and
is the seat of considerable refinement. In St Michael's
Churchyard repose the remains of Bums, over which
his admirers have reared a handsome mausoleum.

Itwerneu (155 miles from Edinburgh) is the principal
seat of population in the northern counties of Scotland.
It is an ancient royal burgh, a seaport for the export
and import trade of the district, and the seat of the
county courts. The situation on the rtrer Ness, near ,
its junction with the sea, with some picturesque emi-
nences in the neighbourhood, is one of great beauty,
and the town itself is well-built and remorkablT clean.
Inverness is often called the Highland capital, being
within the line of the Or&mpians, and the residence of
many persons connected with that district. In 1845
there were 144 vessels belonging to the port under 50
tons, whose tonnage waa 3737; and 80 vessels above
50 tons, whose tonnage was 6401. The customhouse
dues amounted in the grr - to £5082. The popu-
lation of the town and parisn in 1831 was 14,324; in
1841 it was 15,418. Amongst objects of interest may
be enumerated — the remains of a fort built by Crom-
well ; Craig-Phadric, an eminence crowned by a vitri-
fied fort; and the moor of Culioden (distant 5 miles),
the scene of the fatal battle which extinguished the
hopes of the House of Stuart.

The principal towns in Scotland, next to those above
enumerated, are — in Ayrshire, Kilmarnock, a prosperous
seat of the coarser woollen manufacture — population
in 1841, 19,956 ; Ayr, the capital of the county, a
thriving market-town, an \ in a small degree a seaport
— population, 8264 ; in Stirlingshire, Stirling, the county
town, remarkable chiefly for its castle, a favourite seat
of the Scottish monarchs, and from which the most
splendid views are commanded — population, 9095;
Falkirk, a busy market-town, and the centre of a dis-
trict remarkable for its iron-foundries, particularly the
celebrated one of Carron — population, 15,621; in Fife-
shire, Dunfermline, the principal seat of the manufac-
ture of damasks, diapers, and similar fabrics, and an
ancient seat of royalty, celebrated for the remains of
its Abbey, which contain the tomb of King Robert the
Bmce — population, 20,217; Cupar, the county town —
population, 6400; Kirkaldy, a busy manufacturing and
seaport town — with a population (including suburbs),
of 18,000, and a commercial ahipping amounting to
10,000 tone burthen; Si Atidrewt, the aeat of an anaent
university: in Forfarshire, JlfontroM and Arbroath, active
seats of the linen trade, celebrated for their pavement
quarries, and likewise acaporta — the former having a
population of 15,000, and a tonnage of 15,200, the
latter a population of 8700, and a tonnage of 6500 : in
Morayshire, Elgin, a rojr^l j^uigh and county town.

IBELAND.

aving a
boo, the
[SOO : in,

PWDt

This large and important member of the Britisu isles
is washed on the south, west, and north by the waters
of the Atlantic, and on the east by a strait — called at
different places the North Channel, the Irish Sea, and
St George's Channel — which separates it from the
larger island of Great Britain. The width of this strait
is variable, being about 47 miles between St David's
Head in Wules and Camsore Point ir Ireland, about
60 between Holyhead and Dublin, and only 13^ be-
tween the Mull of Cantire and the opposite point of
Fairhead. More compact in form than Great Bi'iain,
Ireland is, nevertLeless, indented by a number of ays
and estuaries, which give it an irregular coast-line of
not less than 2200 miles. It lies between lat. 51° 25'
and 55° 23' north, and between long. 5° 20' and 10" 35'
west. Its greatest length, from Crowbead on the south-
west to Fairhead on the north-east, is 306 miles, but
on any meridian not more than 235 ; its greatest
breadth, between the extreme points of Mayo and
Down, 182 miles; its least, between Gal way Bay and
Dublin, 110. Its entire area is estimated at 31,074
square miles, or about 20,808,271 statute acres. Of
this arc^ , about 13,000,000 acres are under cultivation,
such as it is; 6,200,000 uncultivated; 375,000 in plan-
tations; and 631,000 of water. Of the 6,200,000 uu- !
cultivated acres, not more than 2,500,000 are unsus-
ceptible of improvement ; the rest might be improved
either for pasture or for tillage.

SUPERFICIAL FEATURES.

In superficial character, Ireland may be considered
as an undubting or hilly country — less rugged than
the Higiilands of Scotland, and not so tame as tlie
eastern section of England. Its hills are generally
more rounded than abrupt, and lie in detached clusters
rather than in chains or ranges. One of the best de-
fined ranges is the Slievh Bloom, occupying a somewhat
central position, and running in a southerly direction
between King's and Queen's Counties through the
north of Tipperary. In this range, the highest point
of which is 1590 feet, the rivers Barrow, Nore, and Suir,
commonly called the ' Three Sisters,' take their rise.
The Moume mountains, a small, but well-defined range,
No. 66.

occupying the southern angle of Down, have a calminat*
ing point in Slievh Donard, 2809 feet above the sea.
It may be here observed that wherever the Irish term
.«/i'et7i is appliei to a mountain, it expresses that that
mountain fo'ms part of a range. From Dublin Bay
southward through Wicklow, there is an irregular
range, whose extreme height is 3039 feet, descending
in the lateral branch of the Croghant to 2060 feet. In
the northern and western parts of the island, several
irregular clusters occasion considerable diversity of
surface; and in the south, the country is decidedly
hilly, the ranges running somewhat parallel, but attain-
ing to no great elevation unless around Killamey,
where Macgillieuddy Reeks rise in Gurrane Tual to
3405 feet, being the highest point in Ireland.

The fiat or level portions of the island, with the
exception of some fine tracts of fertile valley-land in
Kilkenny, Tipperary, and Limerick, consist mainly of
bog or morass, which occupy, according to Dr Kane,
2,830,000 acres, or about a sixth part of the entire
superficies. The largest of these morasses is the Bog
of Allen, which stretches in a vast plain across the
centre of the island, or over a large portion of Kildare,
Carlow, King's and Queen's Counties — having a summit
elevation of 280 feet, in which the Boyne and some
lesser rivers take their rise. Along the banks of the
river Inny — which, rising in Lough Iron, in county
Westmeath, crosses Lon^ord, and falls into the Shan-
non — are large tracts of deep, vet bog, only exceeded
in dreariness by that which for miles skirts the Shai;noD
in its course through Longford, Roscommon, and King's
County. These bogs consist of turf or peat in various
degrees of condensation — from a pulpy or fibrous mass,
to a coropar' mass that admits of being cut into any
form. They rest on a substratum of clay and lime-
stone gravel, are from 15 to 40 feet in depth, and aie
composed chiefly of aquatic vegetables, which have
grown on the sites where they are now entombed.

It is worthy of remark, that notwithstanding the
quantity of water contained in these 'jxtensive bogs,,
uiere arises from them no miasma injuiioui to health.
This is attributable to the large portion of tannin they
contain, which possesses so strong an antiseptic quality,
that bodies plunged into a deep bog remain undecayed>
the flesh becoming like that of an Egyptian mummy.
It sometimes happens that a bog, overcharged with
water during a rainy season, breaks through the ob-
struction which the drained and more solid part afibrds,
and, rushing forward, overflows large portions of good
land. This occurred in the year IU2I, when the Bog
of Clara, in the county of Westmeath, suddenly burst
into the valley of the River Brusna, and totally de-
stroyed many hundred acres of excellent land: a
similar occurrence took place, to a largo extent, a very
few years since in the county of Antrim,

GEOLOGICAL STRUCTURE.

The rock formations of Ireland commenc3 with the
primary schists and slates, and terminate, generally
speaking, with the coal-measures. The igneous rocks
are granites, greenstones, traps, and columnar basalt,
which is displayed in unparalleled symmetry at the
Giants' Causeway in Antrim. The primary rocks —
namely, mica-slate, quartz, marble, serpentine, clay-
slate, &c. — form a broad rugged fringe all around the
island, making the interior a sort of basin, in which
successively appear the old red sandstone, carboniic-ous
limestone, and superimposed coal-measures. Breaking
through the primaries, and occupying a considerable
portion of the surface, are the granites and greenstones;
trap and tabular greenstone more commonly disrupt
the secondary rocks; aud the basalt of the Giants'

241

OHAHBEBffS INFOBMAHON FOB THB PEOPLE.

Ckunway ii laid to 1m awociated with tracei of the
chalk or upper lecoudarj groupi. Ireland preBenti no
well-developed tertiariei, but exhibit* instead a magni-
ficent diiplay of luperficial accumulv tion in her bogf ,
and in thoie curioui ridges of limestone -gravel and
clay, locally known as acari, which probably originated
at a period when the country was partially submersed,
from eddies and counter-currents caused by inequalities
of the surface. One of the most remarkable geological
features of the island is the development of the car-
boniferous limestone, which forms the surface-rock of
nearly two -thirds of the country, thus contributinc to
the ierttlity of the soil, and, in conjunction with a
mnist and temperate climate, conferring upon the
r']getation its proverbial verdure. The appellations,
' Emerald Isle' and ' Qreen Islo rf the Ocean,' are
names sung b^ its poets, and repeated with affection
by its natives in all quarters of the world.

The available minerals are — granite of excellent
quality, as that quarried to the south of Dublin; roof-
ing-slate, as that of Killaloe and Valentia in Kerrv;
limestone in inexhaustible supplies; excellent marble,
aa the mottled of Fermanagh, the green of Oalway, and
the black of Kilkenny; building-stones of various sorts;
coal (both anthracite and bituminous), which is worked
in Carlow, Kilkenny, Donegal, Limerick, Tyrone, ke.;
pottofs' clay and fullers' earth; and a few of the pre-
cioni stones. The principal metals are copper and
lead, found in Cork, Kerry, Wicklow, &c. ; iron in
inconsiderable quantities; gold and silver, which were
once, and, we Mlieve, are still sought after in Wick-
low; a little antimony and manganese. Before con-
cluding this brief survey of the geology of Ireland, it
may not be irreler'Wt to state with Mr M'CuUoch, that
' Dublin, Belfast, and the factories in the north, are
mostly supplied with coal from England, at about lOs.
or 128. per ton, and that such also is the case in most
parts of the country where coal is used. The groat
mass of the Irish people will probably be for many
ages dependent on the neighbouring peat-bogs for fuel.'

HYDROaRAPHT, &C.

The bays and loughs which indent the island are
numerous, and of considerable importance to commerce.
On the east the following are worthy of notice : — Bel-
fast Lough, a large indentation, cbout 13 miles in
length, and from 6 to 8 wide, of easy access, affords
good anchorage, but shoals towards its extremity, so
that vessels can only reach Belfast with the flood ;
Stmngford Harbour, about 15 miles in length, and
from 5 to 6 in width, with a narrow dangerous entrance;
Carlingford Lough, about 11 miles in length, and 2
wide, but obstructed by a shallow bar; Dund -.^k Bay,
a large shallow basin of little navigable value; Dublin
Bay, of considerable size, and converted, as it were,
into a dock by long piers projecting from both sides of
its fair-way, with a view tu remove the sandbanks with
which it is encumbered; and Wexford Harbour, a spa-
dons inland basin of irrogular form, and almost land-
locked, but obstructed also by a shallow bar. On the
south are V/aterford Harbour, or the estuaiy of the
Barrow, Nore, and Suir, cur^-ing inland with deep
water, and admitting vessels of large tonnage to Water-
ford, which is 15 miles from the sea; Dungarron and
Youghal Harbours, both of minor importance; the fine
harbour of Cork, with its deep narrow entrance, and
capacious basin studded with islands, yet capable of
accommodating the whole navy of England; and Kin-
sale Harbour, also a safe and commodious retreat. On
the ssuth-west angle are the large ba; s of Dingle, Ken-
mare, Bivntry, Dunmonus, and Crook'haven, all of easy
access, and ait'ording excellent anchorage. On the west
coast, are Tralee Bay, a somewhat dangerous basin; the
large and commodious estuary of tho Shannon, full^
70 miles long from its entrance between Louphead and
Kerryhead to Limerick, which can be reached by vessels
of 3<)G and 400 tons; Oalway Bay, Clew Bay, Blacksod,
Killala, and Sligo, all capacious and deep-water inlets;
find Donegal Bay, an extensive ana, with several minor
242

creeks and harbours, none of which ore of much impor-
tance, with the exception of Killybegs. On the north
coast are Lough Swilly, a long, deep, irregular gulf,
projecting inland for 25 miles; and Lough Foyle, a large,
oval, but somewhat shallow basin, about IS miles long
and 9 wide, with an entrance scarcely a mile across,

Tho promtmtorien of tho island are generally bold and
well defined; several of them being celebrated sailing
marks, and the sites of lighthouses. The more promi-
nent on the east coast are St John's Point, Dunany
Point, the Heads of Clogher, Howth, and Wicklow, and
the Points of Gahoro, Oreenore, and Camsorc, On the
south are Hook Tower, the headlands of Ardmore and
Kinsale, the celebrated Cape Clear, and Mizen Head.
On the west are Crow Head, Dunmore Head, Loophead
and Kerryhead, [;uarding the entrance of tho Shannon,
SWnehead, with its two lighthouses, and the headland*
of'^Achil, Urrii, and Tillrn. On the north. Bloody
Foreland; Malin Head, the most northerly point in the
island; Qiants' Causeway, with its picturesque pave-
ment, steps, and columns; Bengore Head; and Fair-
head, rising 680 feet above the sea, with its irregular
courses and columns of tabular basalt.

The ialanda are, generally speaking, small, and of
little importance. On the east the largest is Lambar,
about 24 miles off the coast of Dublin, and ' remarkable
for its abundance of rabbits, sea-fowl, oysters, crabs,
and loi' ters,' On the south are Clear Island, with m
rough uneven surface of 2000 acres ; Tuscar Rock, about
8 miles off Carnsore Point, a dangerous ridge rising 20
feot above tho sea, and surmounted by a lighthouse
after the model of the Eddystone; the Saltees, another
dangerous ledge, also about 8 miles from the inland,
and indicated by a floating light. On the west are the
Skelligs, a small rocky group, frequented by the gan-
net; Valentin, a large fertile island of 9600 acres; the
Blasquets, the favourite resort of the bird called the
gourdet; the three isles of Arran, containing an aggre-
gate area of 6823 acres ; Innisbofin, Innisturk, aud
Clare, considerable islands in Clew Bay; Achil or
' Eagle ' Island, containing about 23,000 acres, and
rising to a height of 1580 feet; the small islets of In-
niskea, and the curious irregular peninsula called the
Mullet. Off the Connaught coast, and extending be-
yond these islands, are extensive banks, frequented by
immense shoals of cod, ling, ani other fish. On the
north are Aranmore, with an area of 2000 acres; Tory,
celebrated for its fertility; and the basaltic island of
Rathlin, containing upwards of 3300 acres, and yield-
ing average pasture and crops, and at one time couaider-
able quantities of kelp.

The principal rivers ore the Foyle and Bann, which
flow into the North Channel; the Boyne, Liffey, and
Slaney, which emptv themselves into the Irish Chan-
nel ; the Barrow and Nore, which, falling into the Suir,
pour their united streams into the bay of Waterford;
the Blackwater, running into Youghal Harbour; the
Lee, discharging its waters into the harbour of Cork;
and the Shannon, with its principal affluents Boyle,
Inny, Suck, Brusna, and Maig. None of these rivers
are naturally of importance to navigation. The Shan-
non, however, has been made navigable to Lough Allen
by means of locks and lateral cuts; the Barrow by simi-
lar means to Athy; tho Foyle by canal to Strabone;
the Suir s naturally navigable to Clonmel for barges;
and several of the others have been artificially united
by such lines as the Lagan, Newrr, Ulster, Royal,
Grand, Athy, and other canals — which now intersect a
considerable portion of the island.

There are a number of minerai springs in the island,
chiefly sulphureous and chalprbeate. Those of any note
are Mallow in Cork, resembling those of Bristol ; Bally-
nahinuh in Doini; Swadlinbar in Cavan, Castleconnel,
near Limerick; Goldenbridge and Lucan in Dublin,

The lakes of Ireland, as might be expected from the
superficial character of the country, are both numerous
and extensive— covering in the a^egate an area of
455,400 acres. The largest is Lough Neagh in Ulster,
its length being about 20 miles, and its breadth from

IBELAKD.

10 to 12 mile»—coTering an area of 100,000 aeiei; it ii
of considerable deptli, navigable, and its surface only
4S feet above sea-level. Erne, also in Ulster, consists
properly of two sheets, occupying an area of 40,000
acres. Doth are studded with islets, and lav claim to
some share of picturesque beauty. Lough Terg, a
small sheet in the same province, contains some Mlctt,
in one of which is situated St Patrick's Purgatorv — a
narrow cave, which has long been a noted place of pil-
grimage. In Connaught are the large irregular ex-
panses Conn, Mask, and Corrib, remarkable as being
respectively 30, 21, and 16 feet above sea-level. The
priuoipal lakes in the course of the Shannon are Allen,
Ree, and Derg; the first 160 feet, and the last 98 feet
above ordinary sea-level. The lakes of Killamey, like
those of Cumberland, are more celebrated for their pic-
turesque beauty than for their extent. They consist
of three cunnected sheets, lying in the bosom of the
Kerry mountains; are thickly studded with islands,
present outlines the most irregular, and surrounding
scenery of the most opposite and diversified character.

CLIHiTE.

The climate of Ireland is remarkable for its mildness
and humidity — results arising, in the first place, from
its being surrounded by the Atlantic, from which no
portion of its interior is distant more than 50 miles j
and in the second, from the comparatively small eleva-
tion which the generality of its land attains. This
mildness is proved by the fact, that oven in the northern
county of Donegal, the arbutus, laurustinus, a^^apan-
thus, and fuchsia grow healthily in the open air, and
myrtles so luxuriantly as to cover the walls of houses
up to the second storey. Its humidity, though great,
difiera considerably in different districts, the south-
west and west receiving, on an average, 42 inches of
rain annually; while in Armagh, for example, there
falls little more than half that amount.

The prevailing winds are the west and south-west;
indeed winds from a westerly direction blow for nearly
three-fourths of the year. These, tempered by the
warm currents of the Atlantic, and surcharged with its
vapours, produce mild, but extremely variable seasons
along the south and west; and though snow seldom
lies, even on the highest hills, and verdure is every-
where promoted, yet an early wet autumn often ob-
structs the harvest, )<.nd thus renders winter, properly
so called, longer than in England. Difference of lati-
tude has its usual effect, though somewhat less percep-
tible. Thus in the southern counties spring is earlier,
fruit ripens a fortnight sooner, and the harvest is fit for
the sickle a month before that of the northern, and
about a fortnight before that of the midland districts.

BOTANT AND ZOOLOOT.

The native Flora and Fauna of Ireland generally
resemble those of the neighbouring island; the culti-
vated plants and domesticated animals are identical.
There are, however, some species peculiar to the island,
of which the following are the most remarkable : — The
strawberry-tree, found at Killamey, particularly beau-
tiful from its abundance of red fruit; the Irish rose,
found near Belfast; the Irish furze, found sparingly in
Down, distinguished from common furze by its upright
mode of growth and softer texture; the Irish or Floren-
court yew, of upright growth and dark-green foliage,
resembling that of the cypress; the Irish menziesia,
whose large purple heath-like bells decorate the wild
districts of Qalway; the Corsican and other species of
heaths, found also in Spain and the islands of the
Mediterranean; and carigeen or Irish moss — a sea-weed
of some commercial importance.

At present, Ireland is not entitled to the character
of a well-wooded country — a defect which is fast being
remedied by extensivo plantations; but we have histo-
rical evidence, as well as the indubitable records of her
bogs, that at no very remote period large tracts were
covered with a gigantic growth of the ordinary iov^i-
Moixisou (1596) and Davis (1605) mentior. the

foiesti ia which the poor Irish took refuge; and all tht
scenery of Spenser's ' Fab'ry Queen ' is drawn from th«
Uiver Bandon, which he celebrates as the 'pleasant
Dandon, wood y-crowued,' as it is to this day. Boate,
in his * Natural History,' mentions the ^eat extent of
wood then standing; but not long did it so stand, for
wherever Cromwell's anny came, the forests were felled
and the country laid bare. There are still, however, is
a few favoured spots, some remains of the ancient oak
and ash woods, as at Killarney, at Glengariffe near
Dantrv, in Connemara, in some spots of the county of
Wicklow, and in Donegal, near the beautiful, but little
Lough Van, where a few red deer are still to be seen.
The plantations in Ireland, in 1841, were thus esti-
mated in acreable extent:— Oak, 20,536 acres; ash,
6042; elm, 1417; beech, 3274; fir, 25,239; mixed,
280,096— making a total of 345,604 acres.

With respect to the animal kingdom, the elk hu
passed away, leaving its skeleton and antlers in the
bogs as memorials of its gigantic size; the wolf has
disappeared since the time ot the Commonwealth ; the
woU-dog is still to be met with, though rarely; the red-
deer frequents the wild mountain districts of Kenr;
the eagle inhabits the western coast of Connaught; the
Irish falcon of oui ancestors is, we believe, extinct; the
gourdet claims the Dlasquets as his own peculiar resi-
dence; and t^e gillaroo and dorchar trcuts are limite4
to Lough Noagh. Of the domesticated animals, though
these are now generally cross-breeds, Ireland possessei
some varieties regarded as peculiar — namely, the Iri^
black horse, the Kerry and old Irish breeds of the ox,
a worthless wiry-wooled sheep, and a long-legged nar-
row-bodied pi^ (See from Nos. 37 to 40 inclusive). In
consequence, it is presumed, of the humidity of the soil
and climate, the adder and snake are unknown, as ia
also the mole; but, contrary to the vulgar notion, frogi
and toads are by no means uncommon.

PEOPLE — POPULATION.

The bulk of the Irish people are a branch of the
Celtic race, who were probably the first settlers in the
island. The peasantry throughout nearly the whole
country are of^ this origin, and in many parts they still
speak the Celtic (here termed the Irish) language.
The chief exception from this rule is in the north,
where a great number of the humbler, as well as
middle - classes, are descended from comparatively
recent settlers of Scottish extraction. Another rather
''vj^spicuous exception is found in Connaught, particu-
larly in Galway, where a considerable number of the
people seem to be of Spanish descent. Families of
English extraction are comparatively rare amongst the
labouring-class in Ireland; but a large portion of the
upper and middle-classes are of Saxon descent, and
differ little from the same ranks in Great Britain.

Limiting the consideration of the social state of Ire-
land to what is peculiar to it, we may first advert to a
conspicuous practice of the landowners — abtenteeitm.
By absentees are not meant those noblemen who, being
Englishmen, have also large possessions in this coun-
try, and whose estates (with some glaring exceptions)
are usually well and justly managed; but those sons
of Erin who prefer living in any other country to re-
maining in t' ■''T own, although it is at home only thai
a man receives iiis just meed of respect. This system
of absenteeism has led to that of middlemen, who hold
large tracts of land from the head landlord, and relet
this laud at a much increased rent to farmers; these,
again, set to a third set of under-tenants at rack-rents;
and this lowest grade of tenantry divide their small
farms among their sons; thus creating a race of farm-
ing poor, who aro unaUe to till their holdings properly,
and miserably increasing a population raised but a step
above the pauper. There is perhaps no more thriving
person than ike farming-landhoUa; v.'h?, contented with
his condition, rises with hia labourers, holds his own
plough, and superintends the management of his farm;
but the state of the collier is often far from being a
happy oae. The discomfort of this cIms may be aaid

CHAMBERS'S INTORMATION FOK THE PEOPLE.

to ar'iM cliiefly from three c»ui*f— low wnget, high
rentt, and, mont of M, from the want of itMdy emnlov-
ment. The too great lubdiviiion of land, aa will be
•hown in treating of tiie condition of the poatantry in
the proviiicei, ii another cause of the general porerty
and want of comfort of the cottier. Under the ezcite-
raent of war pricei and the freo trade in corn with
Great Britain, agriculture advanced rapidly, and con-
aequently lo did the demand for labour; land roM in
value, leiieea wens tempted to realise profit-renti by
■ttbletting their farma; and thita the land waa let in atill
■mailer dtriaiona and at extreme renta. Thia ayatem was
an abaolute bar to the encouragement which might have
been given to the tenantry by the proprietors oi eatat<<!<.
The occiif'ying landlord pava a higher rent to t -
middleman than doea the middleman to the proprietor,
becauae the middleman exacts as nmch aa he can get,
without any reference tu the future situation of (he
tenant: but the landlord haa different feelinga — he looka
forward, and conaidera the reversionary interest which
ho haa in keeping his tenant in prosperity, and his land
in a state to yield a romuneratiii;; profit.

The habita of getting cre<lit fr(i«|uently at an advance
of 50 per cent., of resorting to pawnbrokers, and of
forming early marriages, contribute to the impoverish-
ment of the labouring-classes in Ireland. The poorer
the individuala arc, the more eager arc they for wed-
lock; even the vi'ry beggara, and their name ia legion,
intermarry. It must, however, be admitted aa some
exeuae, that early marriage is much encouraged by
the Romish prieathood ; and in fairiieaa it must be
added, that this practice contributes exceedingly to the
morality of the lower classes. The sujierstitious regard
to waket and funerals, which has been handed down
from ancient viines, is often a deplorable drain on the
slender resources of the peasant.

In considering the character of the Irish peasantry
in general, it ia refreshing to sue some noble traits
standing out in full relief against the darker shades.
The Irish people are of acknowledged bravery, prover-
bial hospitality, afi'octionate to their parents and aged
relativea, and charitable to the i;>endicaut, if that, in
the present social state of their country, can bo con-
aidered a virtue. The women, generally speaking, are
modest and irreproachable in their conduct ; and it
muat be added, that notwithstanding the crime and
wretchedness which oppreas the country, the poor Irish
are free from aome species of vice which are but too
common in other countries. During the hay and com
harvests of England and Scotland, the services of the
Irish labourers are very important. They are generally
sober, well-conducted, and inoffensive; labouring hard
and living hard, that thev may bring their earnings
home to pay the rent of their little farm or dwelling.
A tpalpeen, or harvest-man, carries home from four to
eight or ten pounds'; to do which he ia contented,
while away, ainioat to starve himself. There ia reason,
therefore, to hope that, under a better atate of thinga,
the national character would rise to a atandard much
higher than it haa yet attained ; and improvement may
reaaouably be expected from the Icgialative efforts now
in course of development.

The last, but by no means moat miserable class in
Ireland, is that of the comnion vagrant. Of these,
some are beggars by profession ; aome are obliged, from
loss of employment, to become what are called ipoitrra ;
and othera are mendicants for a time only, aa when
their huabanda are reaping the harveata in England,
at which time it is cuatomary to lock up the house, and
the wife and children walk the world until the travel-
ler returns with hia little hoard of hard-earned money.
It ma;^ be asserted that in every district of Ireland,
excepting some peculiarly-circumstanced portions of
Ulster, there ia a feeling of reapect towards mendicancy,
which tends to support and perpetuate it. The poor
tenanta of the cabms receive the wanderers, whether
single or in groupa; and carrying, aa these do, their
bedding along witL them, a wum comer ia allowed
them even iu the only room poaaeaaed. ' It ia tho
244

humblest aort,' aay they, ' that are really good to ua.'
The vavranta that frequent fairs, markata, patrona,
holy wella, and other placea of religioua or pleaaurable
resort, are better off tnan tho other poor. A respect-
able evidence disclared to the conimisaionera on the
Poor-Law Inquiry in the county of Meath, that the
beggars at fairs were * as jolly a set aa over he saw in
hialifo;' and in more placea than one, it waa atated
to the comnilaaionera that tho beggara were better off
than the tradesmen or labourers.

Hitherto, the uaual methoda of aupporting the pau^r
poor have been congregational coltectioua, aunacrip-
tiona, vcrr extensive private uharity, and of late yeara
tho application of the resources of the Mendicity
Association ; but the inefficiency of these means haa
ultimately led to the establishment of a foor-Law, the
general object of which ia to relieve the deatitution of
the country. (See No. 62. i„ 1 92.) It appeara that
so far as the poor-law systum is aa yet brought into
operation, it ia imperfect, and haa not relieved the dia-
tricta in which it has been carried into effect from the
annoyance of mendicity, inasmuch as there is no com-
pulsory law for retaining vagrants in the poorhouses ;
they therefore leave them at pleasure, to follow the more
agreeable course of begging in the streets. Until such
eiiiK'tment bo passed, or begging be declared an offence,
Ireland, it would seem, willbe subject to a aevere taxa-
tion in support of the poor-law system, while at the same
time it is not relieved of the evils of mendicancy.

The popul;ition of Ireland was estimated by an acute
statesman of the reign of Charles II. as being then
about 1,100,000. Another estimate formed in 1731,
but upon data not perfectly to be relied on, made the
population 2,010,221. This last number seems to have
been doubled before 17»n, till which time Ireland was
almost exclusively a pastoral country. Since then,
agriculture and commerce have borne more conspicuous
parts iu the national industry; but circumstances un-
favourable to national happiness and wealth have also
been strongly operative, and the progress of the people
was, till », very late date, upon the whole downward.
In proportion to the unfavourable circumstances, and
most of all where the circumstances have been the
most unfavourable, the population haa increased. It
was at the first regular census in 1821, 6,ti01,827; at
that of 1U31, 7,767,401 ; and at that of 1U41, 8,175,124.

NATIONAL INDUSTRY — COMMERCE.

The national industry of Ireland, considering her
fertile soil, her maritime, mineral, and other resources,
is vastly inferior to what, under proper management,
it ought to be. Her agriculture and hutbandry, with a
few exceptions, are wretched in t'to extreme; and ^ct,
notwithstanding, large quantities of grain, cattle, pigs,
butter, ham, and eggs, are annually exported to the
markets of Great Britain. Potatoes, until tho almost
universal blights of 1846-7-0, have been the prin-
cipal crop; oats next in order; barley and wheat but
sparingly ; flax in considerable quantities ; tumipa,
beet, and other green crops are only as yet coming
into culture. The same remarks are applicable to her
Jithaiet, which are neglected in an unaccountable man-
ner. The surrounding seas swarm with cod, ling, hake,
herrings, pilchards, sprats, &c.; and yet the main
supply of salt-fish is obtained from Scotland. Eels
and saln:on frequent most of the rivers, and are caught
in considerable quantities, the northern rivers furnish-
ing part of tl."» supply in the English markets.

* Ireland,' jays Mr M'Culloch, ' is not, and never
has been, » manufacturing country. Its unsettled,
turbulent state, and the general dependence of the
population on land, have hitherto formed insuper-
able obstacles to the formation of great manufacturing
establishments in most parts of the country; whilst
the want of coal, capital, and skilful workmen, and
the great ascendancy of England and Scotland iu all
departments of manufacture, will, there ia reason to
think, hinder Ireland from ever attaining eminence in
this department.' Linen may be regarded aa the staple

IKELASD.

io ui.*
pktroni,
iiurftblo
rcupect-

on the
hat tha
) law ill
• itatwl
lottuc ott'

e paupor
lunionp-
Uo yeart
[ondicity
uaut haa
Law, the
kution of
gar* that
ight into
1 the ilii-
froin the
I no com-
orhouiei ;
r the more
)ntil auch
ji olTonce,
rere ta>a>
t the wuue
ncy.

y au acute
«ing then
1 in 1731,
made the
ms to have
reland wae
iiR'o then,
onspicuoug
itancos un-
ii have also
the people
[downward,
ounces, and
I been the
reased. It
101,027; at
8,175,124.

lerjng her
' resourccR,
.nageiuent,
!ry, with a
; and jret,
&ttle, pigH,
:ed to tlie
,he almost
the prin-
wheat but
• turnips,
et coming
kble to her
able mau-
ing, hake,
the main
tnd. Eels
ire caught
rs furnish-

and never

lunsettled.

Ice of the

insuper-

iifacturing

whilst

nen, and

Ind iu all

Ireaaon to

linence in

Ithe staple

matinflMttiK, of which Belfast and the inrrounding
dlttrlcti of Ulster are the chief seats. The yarn is for
the raoetpart spun by machinery, hand-spinning beinc
all but abandoned ; but a great proportion of the cloth
is still iiroduoed by the handlooiii. The annual value
of the linen now exported from Ireland is estimated
at £4,U0U,UU0. The manufacture of woollen stuff's is
limited to a few localities, as Dublin, MuntmolHck and
Abbeyleix in (Queen's County, and to Kilkenny— em-
ploying in all perhaps not a thousand individuals.
The silk trade of Ireland is all but extinct, being
restricted to the production of tabinet or poplin ;
but the cotton tradu, carried on chiefly at Belfast,
and at I'ortlaw in Waterford, seems to be on the in-
crease. l)i»tillation, at onu time so prevalent, was re-
duced through the exertion* of Ketner Mathew, from
12,296,342 in 183», to 5,290,650 gallons in 1842; but
ha* since shown some symptoms of increase.

The commerce of Ireland consist* chiefly of the
Channel trade with Great Britain, which annually em-
ploy* about 16,800 vessels, with a burthei> of 1,673,000
tons. In 1845, Ireland possessed 79 steam-vessels,
with a tonnage of 18,069. On the subject of the Chan-
nel trade, which has greatly increased since the Union,
Mr Porter has the following interesting remarks : —

The value of produce and merchandise that have
been the object* of trade between Great Britain and
Ireland, in various years since the Union, ban heen
stated in paper* laid before Parliament as follows : —

Imports Into Ireland Exports from Ireland

from Oreat Britain. to Great Britain.

1801, • • -£3,370,330 £3,ea!,m

1809, - • • 4,007,717 4,9t»,1b7

1809, • • • S,316,U7 4,588,auJ

1813, - - - 6,74n,3S3 0,410,336

I8I7, - - • 4,722.766 8,696,613

1891, - - • S,33II,B3S 7,117.4S9

1893, • • - 7,048,930 8,231,315

No account of this trade can be given for any year
subsequent to 1825, the commercial intercourse between
Great Britain and Ireland having at the end of that
year been assimilated by law to the coasting traffic
carried on between the different ports of England ; and,
with the exception of the single article of grain (a* to
which it wo* considered desirable by the legislature to
continue the record), we have now no official register
of the quantity or value of goods or produce received
from or sent to Ireland. That this traffic has greatly
increased in all its branches there can be no doubt; and
this increase may partly be attributed to the abolition
of the restrictions that existed up to 1825, but probably
still more to the employment of steam-vessels upon an
extensive scale. To show the extent to which the
traffic has been carried by this means, a statement
was furnished to a committee of the House of Com-
mons by the manager of a company trailing with
steam-vesseU between Ireland and laverpool, of the
quantity and value of agricultural produce imported
into that one port from Ireland in 1831 and 1832.
From this statement it appears that the annual value
of the trade was abo t £4,500,000, which was in great
part made up of articles that could not have been so
profitably brought to England by any previously-
existing mode of conveyance — such as live-cattle,
horses, sheep, and pigs ; tho value of which amounted
in 1831 to £1,760,000, and in 1832 to £1,430,000.
During the same two years the value of Irish agricul-
tural produce brought to tho port of Bristol averaged
about £1,000,000 sterling. The whole number of
cattle, horses, sheep, and pigs, sent from Ireland to
the various ports of England and Scotland, in different
year* from 1801 to 1825, was as follows: —

The number* *ent to Llvtrpool and Briitol alottt, In
1831 and 1832, were—

('iitilo,

llnnot anil MuIim,

Mhiwp,

VIh; - -

Liverpool.

1831

91,911

019

1W,487

190,001

1831

71,818

70H

98,837

149,090

BrUtoL

1831

«,078

199

11,840

84,107

4,077

190

4,448

8S,«19

The statement above-mentioned of the imports Into
Liverpool occasioned considerable surprise at the time
it wa* made, from the greatness of its amount ; but it
would appear that this branch of trade ha* *ince gone
on increasing in a most extraordinary degree, a* will
be seen from the following account of the number and
value of live animals brought from Ireland to Liverpool
in the year 1837 : —

84,710 RIaok Cattl

a, at liU. each, •

jei,36s,3en

316 Calves,

4:u. ..

711

I>,'.,U90 Bheop,

4il«. .. .

490,100

84,669 Lambs,

III/. ..

• • 99,909

909,429 Pigi,

ftOf. ..

1,488,899

3,414 Homes,

iul. ..

68,980

319 Mules,

1)1. . . ■

9,899

Cattle,
Horses,
Bheep,

Plg8.

1801

1809

81,543 91,803

069 4,114

3,879 10,938

1,963 6,383

17,917
8,364
7,671
4,711

1813

48,973
3,904
7,508

14,911

1817

49,301

H48

39,460

34,193

1821

36,7i5

2,391

35,310

104,501

183S

63,519
3,130
71,161
69,919

Total value, • - £3,397,7*)

The average value here assigned to the several kinds
of animals, is given 011 the authority of an intelligent
gentleman resident at Liverpool, and who is practically
acquainted with the trade.

The value in money, of one seemingly unimportant
article, eggs, taken in the course of the year to the above
two port* from Ireland, amounts to at least £100,000.
The progress of this trade affords a curious illustration
of the advantage of commercial facilities in stimulating
product!?!-, "nd equalising prices. Before the establish-
ment of steam-vessels, the market at Cork was most
irregularly supplied with eggs from the surrounding
district; at certain season* they were exceedingly
abundant and cheap, but these seasons were sure to bie
followed by periods of scarcity and high prices, and at
times it is said to have been diffic-U. i 9 purchase eggs
at any price in the market. At thu urst opening of tho
improved channel for conveyance to England, the resi-
dents at Cork had to complain of the constant high
price of this and other articles of farm-produce; but
OS a more extensive market was now permanently open
to them, the farmers gave their attention io the rearing
and keeping of poultry, and, at the present time, egg*
are procurable at all seasons in the market at Co»:
not, it is true, at the extremely low rate at which thev
could formerly be sometimes bought, but still at much
less than the mean average price for the whole yeat.
A similar result has followed tlio introduction of this
great improvement in regard to tlio supply and cost of
various other article.s of produce. In the apparently
unimportant article feathers, it may bo stated, on the
respectable authority above quoted, that the yearly
importation into England from Ireland reachei the
amount of £500,000.

Iu the absence of all further customhouse records,
the following table of the number and toimage of ves-
sels in which the trading intercourse with Ireland haa
been carried on during the first thirty-seven years of
the present century, will afford a pretty correct view of
its amount and progress. If we compare the tonnage
employed in 1801 with that of 1836, we shall find that
they bear the proportion of 257 to 100, thus showing an
increase of not less than 157 per cent. It will further
be seen that this increase has been much more rapid
during the last ten years in which steam-vessels have
been so much brought into use, than it was In the pre-
ceding years of the series. Up to 1826, the increase
from 1801 was no more than 62 per cent., showing a
mean annual incre&se of 2§ pr cent.; whereas, in the
ten years following 1826, the mcrcose has been as much
as 95 per cent., or 8i per cent, annually : —

245

OHAMBEnS'fl INFORMATION FOR TIIB PEOPLE.

Y«wi.

lawmfdt.

■bl|it.

1(01

s.a<io

IWl

S.WM

s,m

IR04

t,Mi

IMS

t.m

IIM

«,1M7

IM7

No rvtunu

W»

8.477

INW

7,041

IH1«

8,401

1811

0,014

ISIS

10,81 S

ISIS

B,Hg

ISI4

7.MS

ISIS

B,4M

ISI«

7, .73

18IT

\>..M

IBIS

7,11(10

IRIV

8.875

isto

»,ti»

IStl

0,440

1811

U,.Vi9

»,W)I

18*4

7,534

181S

»t.W!l

ISld

8,388

IH«

7,411

I8S8

8,790

1810

8,9S2

18.10

8,4fl3

1881

»,0llO

I8S8

»,7oa

18S3

0,476

1834

10,0!6

1889

10,116

18,16

9,H)(0

1817

lO.SOO

Tool.

Oulwwd*.

4M,0M
46 1, .118
W4,HN4
400,4M
M6,7V0
«78,S07
can bo iirucurod I
7A8,m
6«0,8VH
713,087
789,007
016,736
718,881
613,808
«(t0,83l
«Sl,S7t
770,847
644,806
600,880
7M3,7S0
810,648
835,0J7
786,fi37

nis,3»«

741,188

6.1S,07S

737,rfla

0^3,808

906,188

880,9(13

9!il,128
1,020,613
l,041,88;j
1,100,380
1,138,147

I,l70,u6:i

l,20«,10l

Hhipt.

Tom.

6,816

881,1133

S,S40

449„180

6,086

8)11,179

6,UH

5.17,179

0,873

iW8.7!IO

7,0.VJ

0Mi,718

mI fur tliU year.

7,860

606,473

7,011

SN0,SRT

9,l«l

763,488

8,116

793,738

10,083

867,34S

9,006

773,. IW

8,719

718,171

9,60S

776,3ia

8,861

711,77*

0,8.10

761,770

8,863

703,6?*

9,781

790,496

8,481

784,716

9,106

801,007

9,933

818,114

0,037

814,383

ll),989

008,440

10,981

911,389

11,899

1,088,870

11,083

1,044,093

11,.1.10

I,107,1HO

13,478

1,18(1,11)8

13.144

1,148,617

13,188

1,146,741

14,1194

1,417,833

14,227

1,378,336

14,S(!0

1,440,617

14,608

1,473,183

14,710

1,490,788

16,.147

1,688,614

aOTERNMENT — ADMINI8TRATI0N.

The goTeminent of the country, since tho Union in
1801,16 identical with that of Ureat Jlritnin. It 1*
represented in the Imperial parliament hy 32 mem-
ber* of the House of Lords, and 103 of the House of
Commons. The ezecuttvu gorcmraent is inrestcd in a
Lord-Lieutenant, assisted by a Privy-Council and chief
■ecretarr; and tho law is a<Jministered by a Iiord
Chancellor, a Master of the Rolls, and tfrclve judges of
the Supreme Courts of Queen's Uench, Common Pleas,
and Exchequer. County, peace, and municipal matters
are conducted much in tho same way as in England,
with the exception of an armed national police-force of
from 7000 to (1000 men.

For clril and other purposes, the island is divided
into 4 provinces — Ulster, i,einster, Munster, and Con-
tiaught — which are subdivided into <')2 counties, and
these again into baronies, hundreds, and other minor
lections. Judicially, there are 6 circuits; and ecclc-
■iastically, 2 archbishoprics, 10 bishoprics, and 2.532
parishes, consolidated into 1385 benefices. Tho follow-
ing table exhibits the counties arranged alphabetically,
their area in statute acres, their population according
to the last census, and their capital or county towns : —

Conn Mm.

Acres.

Population.

County Towns.

Antrim, - •

701,877

360,873

CarrickfcrguB.

Amnigli, -

328,076

232,393

Armagh.

Carlow, - -

Sll,341

86,228

Carlow.

Cavan, - -

477,360

343,138

Cavan.

Clare, - -

827,994

286,394

Ennli.

Cork, - -

1,846,833

834,118

Cork.

Donegal, - -

1,193,448

296,448

Lifford.

Down, - -

611,493

361,440

Downpntrlck.

Dublin, - -

826,414

372,773

Dublin.

Fermanagh,

437,198

186,481

EnnlBkillen.

Galway, - -

1,666,334

440,198

Galway.

Kerry, - -

1,186,126

S93,880

Tralce.

Kildare, - -

418,436

114,488

Kildare.

• Kilkenny, -

809,733

201,420

Kilkenny.

Klnrs. - -

493,988

146,887

Tullamore.

I«ltrim, -

t9S,363

163,297

Carrick-on-8hannon.

Limerick, -

680,848

380,029

Limerick.

londondeny,

n8,89S

**2,174

Londondeny.

Longford, ■

t<9,409

113,491

Longford.

CountlM.

Aotw.

Porulatlon.

Uimatj Towns.

Louth, • -

101 ,006

118,140

Dundalk.

Mayo, - -

1,363,88*

388,887

Caitlubar.

Mi'uth, ■ ■

679,800

1N3,81M

Trim.

MonaMhan,

810,737

100,44*

Mnnaghan.

(|uvan'ii, • •

414.8.^4

188,930

lHaryh<ir»iii(li.

HiMt'ummon,

607,691

183,541

Ilfwcuinmuu.

rtllgo, - -

461,733

180,886

hlJKO.

Tlppcrary, -

1,061,731

4.18,383

(Ii.timel.

Tyrone,

806,640

311,906

(iniaKh.

Watorford, -

461,333

196,187

yVntoffvnl

WuitniiHith,

483,468

141,100

MulllnHiir.

WvxfonI, ■

57(1,888

101,038

Wexftird.

Wicklow, -

800,178

116,143

Wicklow.

T.ital, - -

X0,8fl8,S7I

8,171,114

246

^u<<.— etymoloKlata aro at varlanoo as to the orlcln of the word
Ireland ; aunio contondlnK that tli* worda t'Hn, Innt, dko. •!(-
nliy Mcmli uthcra, that f.'fc, t:Hn, Im. Mii<Bn limply went; that
Is, Ireland or Woatland ft-uni lirltuhi. lie thl* as it may, tha
to|xigra|ihli'ttl nomvnehitiira Is uaientlnlly Celliv, with m am-
tideniblo admlxtuni uf niudrrn Knglliih •.—llaUy, town or vllhma ;
kilt, cliureli ur cell ; bin, uitJiintalii i ilitvh, niuuntatn ridge i
tn>ii$ ur iniilt. Inland! knock, hllli cnrrick, rock-fort i drum,
baro height ; Qarrji, rough ; alien or aln, white i ard, prq|eotin(
bolght i rixlh, riilug ground ; aueh or auyh, fleld.

ANTIQUITIEH, &r,

Tho antiquities of Ireland niny he classed under the
heads of the Cromleav, tho t'letrw, the Circlt, the Pillar -
Stone, the Harrow, tlie Dun, the Lis, tho Rath, tho an-
cient Stone-roofed IMld'mgt, and the lofty and beauti-
fully-built Round Towers. Tli<i name Cromleac is com-
pounded of Crom, wliich signifies Fate or Providence,
and leao, a, stone, liivrully 'the stone or ultnr of Lloil;'
and to what gud they were dedicated sutfloiently appears
by the name retained by so manyof tlioso altars. They
vary in size and form, and in most instances consist of
three upright supporters, two at tho lower, and one at
the upper end, upon which tho altar-stone was balanced ;
underneath this, and between the uprights, a hollow iu
usually found, which is thought to have been for the
purpose of facilitating the passage of cattle and children
under the sacred fire — a custom which seems to bo al-
luded to in the Scriptures, when the Israelites are re-
proached with passing their sons and daughters through
the fire to Moloch, one of the names given to tho sun.

Of tho Vairn there were two kinds — the burying and
the simple cairn, or high placo made of stones iliittoncd
on the top. These artificial Mah places were usually
situated on an eminence; and nere, on festival days,
especially the 1st of May and tho 1st of November, tho
fires of Uel were wont to be lighted. At these times
all household fires were extinguished, to be rekindled
by a brand from tho sacred name — a practice which
continued till the time of St Patrick, who succeeded in
putting an end to it. Tumuli of this description abound
in all parts of the island.

Closely connected with the cairn, are tho circles of
upright stones, usually called Druidic Circlet. They
frequently surround a cairn, as that of New Orange in
the county of Meath, where the stones are placed about
one-third of the whole height above the base: frequently
they encircle a pillar-stone.

The Pillar-Stone is so generally joined with the
circle, cairn, cromleac, und sacred grove, that it cannot
be passed over in silence. Numerous instances might
be pointed out of lofty upright stones in many parts of
tho kingdom, standing sometimes singly, but most com-
monly in conjunction with one or more of the above-
mentioned relics of Pagan times. Tradition says that
formerly the people collected round such stones for
worship, which is confirmed by the common expression
in Irish ' of going to the stone,' for going to church or
chapel. These stones are conceived by many to have
given rise to tho carved stone cross found in various
churchyards, and of which one of the finest specimens
is to be seen at Monasterboyce, in the county of Louth.

There are several kinds of tumuli remaining, of which
the Irish names declare the original object. The Lios

IBKLAND.

expression
I cnurch or
ny to haTO
in Tarious
gpecimeng
y of Louth,
ig, of which
The Lios

m tAi, wkloh tigntflM a fortified houM, wu an artlftoial
kill, nmctloiM approMhing In shap* to an ollipM, with
a Hat top, and an earthen brraatwnrk or rainpait thrown
round (he little plain on the lunimlt, where wai placed
the dwelling, usually pr«>locted by a stronD wuttled
palini, a* m now customary among the Circassi.tns.
The liuiM or Doom were iilaces nf strenj^h, always
perrhed on a rocky, bold situation, and fenced by a
Droad wall of extremely large stones, which wall forms
one of the distinctions between the dun and the lis.
The Folk signifles a village or settlement: these abound
in all parts of the island, and iiro of Tarlcus sites, stand-
ing sometimes singly, sometimes so as to form a chain
of posts; and frequently may be seen a large head rath,
where the chiofiain lived, and its smaller dependent
raths, on which his retainers dwelt.

Amongst the earliest and peculiar antiquities of Ire-
land, are the low Stone ■ roof til liuUdingt, with hi^h
wedge-shaped roofs: of these a few instances still exist
at Keiis, Kildare, Ardmnr?, and Klllaloo. The most
remarkable relics of the olden times of Ireland are the
lofty Round Tow«rt, of which, perfect aixl imperfect,
IIS have been enumerated in various parts of the king-
dom. They are built with a wonderful uniformity of
plan. They are all circular, of small diameter, and
great altitude. In most of them the door is at some
Height from the ground ; small loophole windows, at
distances in the sides, give light to the spaces where
the different floors once were ; and generally there were
four larger-sized windows round the top, immediately
below the roof, which is high and cone-shaped. There
are, however, two or throe towers in which it does not
appear that there ever wore any windows round the
top. Of the excellence of the masonry, a proof was
jjiven some years ago by the tower of Mahora, which,
in consequence of having been undermined, was blown
down, and lay, at length and entire upon the ground,
like a huge gun, without breaking to pieces, so wonder-
fully hard and binding was the cement with whicit it
ha<l been constructed. Various theories have been
offered as to the purpose for which these mysterious
buildings were erected; the only clear point seems to
be, that they were connected with the religious rites
of the early inhabitants, as thev are always placed
near churches. They vary in height from 35 to 120
feet; the internal diameter from 10 to 16 feet, and the
outer circumference from 46 to 56 feet. Their tapering
iha])e forms one of their most marked characteristics.

Ancient weapons and golden ornaments are from
time to time dug up in all parts of Ireland, as bronze
swords, exactly like those discovered at Carthage and on
the field of Marathon. Multitudes, also, of spear-
heads of all sizes, made of the same mixed metal, and
curiously-shaped bronze rings, hare from time to time
been discovered, the use of which bad long been a
desideratum to antiquaries, when a recent event unex-
pectedly threw light upon the subject, and confirmed
the conjecture of Sir William Betham as to their hav-
ing been current money. A variety of golden articles
have been discovered in many parts of the cour ! /,
luch aa semi-lunar shaped disks, formed of thin pLitcs
of pure gold ; torques, or largo twisted collar fcr the
neck'; armlets, brooches, rings, pieces of goid, bell-
■haped, but solid and fastened together, the use of
which has not been made out ; and some rings of the
same shape as those of bronze, which have been proved
by Sir William Betham to have been used aa money.

Eecletiattical Antiquities. — Under this head rank
those buildings which may be considered as the most
ancient, after the Pagan remains, and which bear a
peculiar character, differing from that of any extant
elsewhere. Of these but few are now iu existence. Ttie
•tone-roofed church of St Doulagh's, near Dublin, l.e-
longs to the earliest date; its plan and style are equally
uncommon. The latter seems to hare been a rude ap-
proach to the oldest Norman ; it is low, and of great
strength; the church, divided by a low-browed arch,
seems to hare had a small choir and a somewhat larger
nare. There are also, strangely disposed, at rarious

heights, small chambers, appaitntly for the reeldenq*
of the clergy. A part of tfie building is used as the
parish churub ; and the old tower h^s borne the addi-
tion of a belfry, so oxcellcnt was the mason-work. The
beautiful and curious ruin at Casliol, called f'oi-maek'M
Chapel, is Norman in character, and was nroba'olir the
cathedral of that diocese previous to the hnglish inva-
sion, It is considered to nave been built in the tenth
century by Coniiac, who was both king and archbishop.
He died about a.ii. !>!I0. It is to be observed that both
here and at Ht Doulagh's are crypts placed otifr the
churches — a peculiarity known in Ireland only; the
crypts in all other countries being undurnoath. In
this very marked Irish-Norman stylo, there exist a few
remains at Aghadoa near Killarney, at Clonalhon in
the county of Wexford, and near Dannow in the same
county, in an ancient town, which having been, time
out of mind, overwhelmed by the blowinjr sand from
the coast, has only within a few years been discovered,
but, protected by the sand, is in a high state of pre-
servation. The peculiar character which marks those
buildings, proves them to bo examples of the Irish style
subsequent to the age of the towers, and previous to
that brought in by the British invaders. Ireland can-
not b ist of any ecclosiiistica' buildings of great rich-
ness yf beauty ; but there are some of respectable
appearance, i'he two cathedrals of the capital, 8t
Patrick's and Chrtst-rhurch, are at least elegant in
the interior. Ihe lar^ > cathedral of Galway, and that
of liiin* ick, are b ^h handsoin» building t, as is the
cathedral of Kilkei.nv. These u all in good order,
and in daily use. There are n . herless ruins of mo-
nasteries, abbeys, knights' - ■■ ( lories, and churches,
of which the chief are — KiU w.l Abbey in the county
of (Jalway; Corcnmroe in Lliire, the fip' ; ruin in
Ireland; Uoly Ci , '. Tipperarr; the C Cathedral
on the Hock of ( oshci Dunbrody and 'i'inlem Abbeys
in Wexford; Je.oint in Kilkenny; and Lusk in the
county of Dublin. Kllconnel and 1 usk are remarkable
for rude bas-relievos in stone, which bear a degree of
resemblance to the Egyptian hieroglvphics. Many of
these still retain fraj;jnents of their former ornaments
of fretted stone-work — Holy Cross in particular.

Military Antiquitiet. — The traveller in Ireland must
be struck with th^ vast number of small castles which
stud the wholo country. Thoy chiefly bear date about
the reign of Klizabeth, by whose orders they were
raised, us strongholds to overawe the wild Irish. Thev
are usually high and square, with towers at each
comer. Besides these fortalices, there are ruins of
very large castles, so customarily attributed to King
John, as to show that they were built in the early
times. Of these, the extensive ruin at Trim, in the
"ounty of Meath, affords a fair example, as being one
c. •'.• largest, and often formerly the residence of the
.(• • .y or chief governor. Parliaments were held
wi(iiin its walls, and money minted there and sent
into circulation. A few of the ancient castles belong-
ing to the old nobility still continue to be inhabited,
as Afttlahide, Lord Talbot's de Malahide ; ond Howth,
the Earl of Uowth's, both in the county of Dublin ;
Shanes Castle, the residence of Earl O'Neil; Portumna
Castle on the Shannon, that of Lord Clanrickard ; and
Kilkenny Castle, the seat of the Marquis of Ormond.

LEINSTEB.

This is the largest province of Ireland, and contains
the twelve counties of Louth, Meath, Dublin,'Wioklow,
Wexford, Carlow, Kilkenny, Kildare, Queen's County,
King's County, Westmeath, and Longford, the whole
forming a large tract of country on the east side of the
bland, and having Dublin at a central point on the
coast. The scenery of Leinster is much varied. The
county most remarkable for picturesque beauty is that
of Wicklow, a short way south of Dublin ; the hills,
glens, and valleys are here rich in natural wood, and,
bounded by an extensive prospect of the ocean, can
hardly be exceeded in beauty. The principal pomts
of attraction for tourists are Lough Bray: a woody

247

CIIAHBEBS'S mFOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

ravine called the Darglo; and the Vale of Avoca, which
is one continuous piece of sylvan pleasure-ground.
Wexford, still farther south, may also, to a consider-
able extent, be described as a picturesque and fertile
county ; and though the county of Meath is for the
most part flat and tame, except along the banks of
the Boyne and Blackwater, it can boast there of some
spots of redeeming beauty ; as an example of which
Beau Pare, the beautiful demesne of Gustayus Lam-
bert, Esq., may well be mentioned ; and in a lar^c
portion of the county, the quantity of wood and the
rich hedgerows give an almost English character to the
landscape. Westraeath is remarkable for expansive
lakes, and for the dry gravelly hills which give variety
to its surface. The Cjueen's County, though a good
deal disfigured by bog, yet boasts, at Abbeleix and
Dunmore, of a great stretch of magnificent natural
oak wood. The remaining part of Leinster cannot be
considered interesting or peculiar in its general fea-
tures. The King's County contains the greatest portion
of the flat flow-bog, on the eastern side of the Shannon ;
towards Roscrea, where the Slievh Bloom mountains
terminate, there is some interesting scenery, especially
about the ancient castle of Leap.

Leinster may be considered as much superior to the
other provinces with respect to agriculture ; and some
parts of Carlow, Kildare, and Wexford, are cultivated
in a manner approaching in skill to that of the agri-
cultural dbtricts of England and Scotland. In stock,
implements, rotation of crops, and the industry with
which manure is collected and composts manufactured,
there is a great and increasing improvement. Farm-
ing societies, ploughing -matches, and premiums for
new and better breeds of cattle, have greatly tended
to this increasing prosperity ; and they only who have
witnessed what these districts were previous to the
Union, can appreciate the amelioration wnich has since
taken place. Near Dublin are some extensive paper
manufactories, and in the county of Meath is a large
flax-spinning mill. Generally speaking, however, there
are but few manufactures in Leinster.

The counties of Wicklow and Wexford contain an
industrious and thriving population; and because in-
dustrious, the people are able to pay, from soils not
superior to those of other districts, rents which would
be intolerable in other parts of Ireland. The Wicklow
peasantry are reckoned the finest in the world, and
are proverbial for their handsome features and fine
Roman profiles, and still more so as being a respectful,
quiet, and well-conducted people. The county of Meath
is remarkably fertile ; but being less subdivided, is
therefore leas populous than an^ other part of Ireland,
considering the richness of its soil. The same prosperity
as that in Wicklow and Wexford, though perhaps in a
smaller degree, prevails in Kildare, Carlow, and the
Queen's County. One of the chief causes of this pro-
sperity u, that a large portion of the population receive
money payments for tueir daily labour, and another,
that the coUter and con or corn-cure systems ore here
less resorted to. The wages of Leinster are usually
Is. a day in summer, and in winter from Ud. to lOd.,
without diet. The average rent for arable land is
from £\ to £1, 10s., and for pasture land from £2 to
£3 per acre. The ge*<«>ral diet of the peasantry is pota-
toes, milk, stirabout, c^ga, butter, bacon, and herrings.
Their dwellings are confessedly superior to those of
Munster or Connaught. The resident gentry are more
numerous, and take a great interest in the wellbeing
of their tenantr}-. Leinster, therefore, may altogether
be pronounce'' a much improved part of the country.

As the woollen and silk m<uiufactures are still car-
ried on in Dublin and other parts of Leinster, a slight
sketch of their history may not be out of place in the
account of that provmce. So early as the reign of
Henry III. Irish woollen manufactures were imported
from Ireland to England, duty free; and so excellent
was their quality, that, from 1327 to 1357, they were
exported to Italy, at a time when the woollen fabrics
of the latter country had attained a nigh degree of
248

excellence. The prosperity of the trade is noticed in
an act of Elizabeth; and so flourishing was it in the
time of Sir William Temple, that he became appre-
hensive lest it should interfere with that of the Eng-
lish. In 1688, the woollen manufacture was established
to a considerable extent in the liberties of Dublin.
But this prospuritv was soon interrupted by the English
presenting a petition for the imposition of such heavy
duties on the exportation of wool, as greatly injured
the trade. It never, however, became extinct in the
liberties, though it now extends only to the manufac-
ture of coarse fabrics. In 1773, the Dublin Society,
anxious for its revival, procured an order that the
army should be clothed with Irish cloth. This em-
ployment, however, became soon monopolised by one
or two great houses which had parliamentary interest :
one of thbse failed in 1810, and the failure was followed
by the bankruptcy of al: >st the entire woollen trade
of Dublin ; for the general credit was so much aflfected,
that the banks refused to discount the bills of the
manufacturers, and consequently the crash became
general. The trade is now almost confined to the city
of Dublin and its environs, where good hearth-rugs and
carpeting are still manufactured.

The sUk trade was introduced by the French refu-
gees, and about 1693 fully established by them in the
liberties of Dublin. In 1774 an act was passed, placing
it under the direction of the Dublin Society, for the
extent of two miles and a-half round the nastle; and
that society was empowered to make regulations for its
management, which it accordingly did, and also opened
a silk warehouse, and paid a premium of 5 per cent,
on all sales made therein. But this warehouse was
ruined by an act passed about the year 1786, prohibit-
ing any of the funds of the Dublin Society from being
applied to support any house selling Irish goods either
wholesale or retail. This act gave to the manufacture
a check by which hundreds of people were thrown out
of employment. According to a return made in 1 809,
there were still 3760 hands engaged in it, who, after
the passing of this cruel act, struggled to support the
trade; but when the protecting duties were taken ofl'
in 1821, and steam communication opened with Eng-
land, the Irish market was inundated with goods at a
smaller price than that at which her native fabric could
be produced, and thus the ruin of the trade was com-
pleted. The tabinet fabric of silk and worsted (See
No. 22), for which Dublin has long been famous, is the
only branch of the silk business which has not mate-
rially Bufl'ered from these discouragements.

Chief Towns.

The chief towns in. Leinster are Dublin, Kilkenny,
Droglicda, Wexford, Maryborough, MuUingar, Carlow,
Birr, or Paraonstown, and Trim.

Dublin, the principal town in Leinster, and the
capital of Ireland, is situated at the margin of a
beautiful bay, on a generally flat piece of country,
through which flows the River Lifl^ey, and is therefore
agreeably placed both for commerce and the accom-
modation of a large population. In point of size, Dub-
lin occupies a place between Edinburgh and London,
and its appearance never fails to sur{>ri8e and delight
the stranger. In external aspect it is essentially an
English totvn, being built of brick in a neat and regular
manner, but abounding in a class of elegant public
structures of stone, which resemble the more substan-
tial embellishments of Paris and other continental
cities. The river, flowing from west to east, divides
the city into two nearly equal portions, and is a strik-
ing feature in the general plan. The leading thorough-
fares of the city are easily comprehended. First, from
east to west, there is the double line of houses and
quays bordering upon the river, the lower part of which
forms a harboar, and is crowded with vessels. Cross-
ing this line at right angles, is the great line formed
by Sackville, Westmoreland, rnd Grafton Streets, the
first and second of which are connected by Carlisle
Bridge, the lowest in a range of eight or : ine which

IRELAND.

and the
[rgin of a
' country,

therefore

ne formed

^reetSi the

Carlisle

line which

Bpan the river at various diitancei from eaeh other.
Parallel to the quaya, on the south side of the river,
there is a shorter arterial line of great importance,
formed b^ College Green, Dame Street, Castle Street,
and Thomas Street, being terminated to the east by the
buildings of the University. Though the ancient part
of the city occupies the south bank of the river, there
is a portion of the mean and elegant on both sides; the
streets and squares of the wealthy being here, contrary
to the usual rule, in the north-cast and south-east dis-
tricts. All the great lines' are formed by houses of
lofty and elegant proportions, chiefly devoted to com-
merce ; and perhaps no city can present a more
splendid series of shops and warehouses. Sackville
Street, lOQ perches in length and 6 in width, with a
noble monumental pillar in the centre, and some of the
finest public buildings in the world lending it their
effect, must impress every one as something worthy of
a great city. The spaciousness of several of the squares
in the aristocratic districts is equally impressive.
Merrion Square is half, and St Stephen's Green nearly
a whole mile, in circumference; the latter containing
seventeen acres o^ pleasure-ground in the centre.

On first walking into the streets of Dublin, the
stranger is apt to see, in the throng of carriages and
foot-passengerb, nothing more than what he expects to
find in all large cities. He soon observes, however,
that, biisideg the luxurious class who occupy the better
kind of vehicles, and the busy, well-dressed crowd who
move along the foot-ways, there is a great multitude
of mean and mendicant figures, such as are only to be
found in a small proportion in other cities. This is the
very first peculiar f'-.ature which the stranger detects in
Dublin, and it is an unfortunate one. It is explained
when we learn, that of the large population of Dublin
— supposed to approach 300,000 — fully three -fourths
are beneath what is recognised in Britain as the middle
rank. Thus the niosi, respectable streets in Dublin, and
the most elegant figures which appear in them, seem
isolated in the midst of penury and moaimcss.

The public buildings of Dublin boast an elegance
much above what mif^lit be expected from the general
character of the city. In sailing up the river, the eye
is first attracted by the Customhouse, a large and
splendid edifice in the well-known taste of the Adams,
surmounted by a doi e, and very happily situated upon
the north quay. The Post-Office, in Sackville Street,
is in that graver form of the Grecian style which has
more recently come info fiivour, extending above 200
feet in Tiont, with a noble portico surmounted by a
pediment. The simultaneous starting of the mail-
coaches, at a certain hour every evening, from the
court of this building, is one of the sights of Dublin.
Opposite to it is a pillar in honour of Nelson, sur-
mounted by a figure of that hero. At the upper ex-
tremity of Sackville Street is the Lying-in Hospital, a
beautiful building, with which is closely connected the
more celebrated Hotunda, together with an extensive
plot of ornamental ground. The Four Courts — also a
most superb structure — overlooks the river at a point
considerably removed to the west, and completes the
list of remarkable buildings in the northern division of
the city. To the south of the river, the objects worthy
of especial notice are more numerous. The buildings
of the University (founded by Queen Elizabeth in
1592) occupy a conspicuous siti ation on the great
transverse line of streets which has already been men-
tioned. Beneath an elegant Grecian front, 300 feet in
length, an archway gives admission to a succession of
spacious squares, chiefly composed of brick domestic
buildings, and containing a theatre for examinations,
a museum, a chapel, a refectory, a library, and other
apartments necessary for the business of the institu-
tion. In the museum is preserved an ancient harp,
generally represented as that of Brian Boroimhe, a
famous Irish kuig of tlie tenth century. There are
usually about two thousand students in attendance at
the University. Divided from this building only by the
breadth of a street, is the Bank of Ireland, formerly

the place of assembly of the Irish Houses of Parliament.
The deep colonnaded front of this building is one of
the most beautiful pieces of architecture, not only in the
British dominions, but in the world: it carries a charm
like a fine picture. The hall where once the Commons
of Ireland assembled— where the eloquence of a Grat-
tan, a Curran, and a Flood, was once heard — is now
altered to suit the purposes of a telling-room ; but the
House of Peers remains exactly as it was left by that
assembly, being only occasionally used for meetings of
the Bank directorate. The latter is a small, but hand-
some hall, adorned with tapestry representing transac-
tions in the subjugation of Ireland by King William —
the Battle of the Boyne, the Breaking of the Boom, and
so forth, as also a few appropriate inscriptions.

In Kildare Street, at no great distance from the
College and Bank, the halls of the Iloyal Society of
Dublin present a powerful claim to the attention of
strangers, in the great variety of curiosities, pictures,
and models with which they arc filled. In a peram-
bulation of the city, the Castle is the next object worthy
of notice. This ancient seat of the viceregal govern-
ment, to which rumours of plots and insurrections
have been so often brought by terror-struck spies or
remorseful participators, is placed on slightly-elevated
ground, in the midst of the old or southern division of
the city. It consists of two courts, containing certain
public oflices, and the apartments of state used by the
Lord-Lieutenant. In the lower court is the Castle
Chapel, a beautifully-constructed and beautifully-fur-
nished modern Gothic place of worship, the whole
materials of which are of Irish production, and which
cost above £40,000. The service perfonned here
every Sunday forenoon, graced, as it is, by the finest
vocal and instrumental music, while a rich ' religious
light' streams through stained windows, and is re-
flected from the gorgeous stalls of civil and ecclesias-
'lical dignitaries, is one of the most attractivj. things in
Dublin. The state-apartments of the Vic( roy are in
the taste of the middle of the last centu y, and are
elegant, but not remarkable for grandeur. In one is
a bust of Chesterfield, who was Lord-L^ "utenant in
1745. The most remarkable room is tl>e ball-room,
denominated St Patrick's Hall, which is spacious and
lofty, and among other attractions, has a ceiling orna-
mented with pictures, emblematical of transactions in
the history of Ireland.

In Ireland, old ecclesiastical structures are usually
more curious for their antiquity than their beauty.
Accordingly, the exterior of St Patrick's and Christ-
Church, the two cathedrals of Dublin, is apt to appear
ungainly to an eye fresh from Westminster or Melrose.
In the former building, nevertheless, the interior of
the choir in which service is usually performed, will
imr ress every mind by its lofty proportions, its pom-
pous monuments, and the dark stalls and niches, sur-
mounted with the helmets and banners of the knights
of the order of St Patrick. In visiting this ancient
church, the predominant thought is — Swift. We look
for his dwelling as we approach, and for his tomb when
we enter — such is the power which genius has of fixing
the feelings of men for all time upon every external
thing connected with it ! The deanery still exists in
St Kevin Street, containing the portrait of Swift from
which all the engraved likenesses have been derived.
The streets immediately surrounding St Patrick's Ca-
thedral are the meanest and vilest in the city. The
houses have a ruinous and forlorn look, and the pave-
ments are crowded with a population of the most
wretched order. These streets are filled with shops,
but the trades to which they are devoted serve rather
to betray the misery than to manifest the comfort of
the people. Here dealers in old clothes, pawnbrokers,
spirit-doalcrs, and persons trading in ofials, almost the
only kinds of animal food indulged in by the lower
orders of the people, abound.

At the western extremity of Dublin, on the north
side of the river, is the celebrnted public promenade
denominated the Phceuix Park ud to consist of about

21!)

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATIOK FOR THE PEOPLE.

a thousand acre*. Not only doe« thii park greatly
exceed thow of London in extent, but it is questionable
if eren the Regent's Park, after all the expense in-
ourred in ornamenting it, will oyer match this domain
in beautT. The ground is of an undulating character,
and is covered with groups of fine old timber and
shrubbery, amidst which are the domestic residences
of the Lord -Lieutenant and his principal officers,
besides some other public buildings, and a tall obelisk
in honour of the Duke of Wellirgton's victories. A
zoological garden has lately been added to the other
attractions of the park.

Dublin was formerly a busy literary mart, in conse-
quence of the state of the copyright law, which allowed
of cheap reprints of British books being here issued.
After a long interval, the activity of its publishers has
lately revived, and there are now several houses which
afford considerable encouragement to native talent.
Dublin possesses a number of charitable institutions,
conducted on a scale of great liberality; also several
religious and educational societies, whose operations
are extended over the whole kingdom. The trade car-
ried on in the town refers chiefly to home consump-
tion; and excepting tabinets or poplins, it is not dis-
tinguished as the seat of any manufacture. There is
very little foreign export from Dublin. Its principal
imports are — timber from the Baltic; tallow, hemp,
and tar from Russia; wine and fruits from France,
Spain, and Portugal ; tobacco, bark, and spices from
Holland ; and sugar from the West India islands.

The most important branch of its commerce is that
carried on with England, chiefly in connection with
Liverpool, to whose market there are now large ex-

Sorts of native produce. Though the Liffey forms the
arbour of the port, vessels of large burthen, and steam-
boats, have an opportunity of preferring the harbour at
Kingston (formerly called Dunlcary), at the mouth of
the bay, on its southern side. This harbour, which is
constructed on a magnificent scale, with the neat town
adjacent, may at all times be readily reached by rail-
way from Dublin, which proves a great convenience to
the inhabitants. At the opposite side of the bay from
Kingston is Howth, whose celebrated 'hill' forms a
distmguishing land-mark. In lii45 there were 260
■ailing vessels under, and 218 above, £0 tons burthen,
making an aggregate tonnage of 28,500 ; 35 steamers,
with an aggregate burthen of 8G50 tons; and the cus-
toms' receipts exceeded £1,043,000.

The number of light private vehicles in Dublin is
one of its most remarkable distinctive features. These
are generally of the kind called cars, drawn by one
horse, and having a seat on each side, admitting of two
or more persons sitting with their faces outwards. To
keep a car is one of the highest aims of the ambition of
a Dublin tradesman. ' Previous to the Union,' says
an intelligent writer, who has been consulted with
advantage, ' Dublin was the constant residence of 271
temporal and spiritual peers, and 300 members of the
House of Commons. At present, about half-a-dozen
peers, and 16 or 20 members of tl; House of Com-
mons, h-tve a settled dwelling witlun its pvecincts.
Other persons of this exalted class of society, whom
business or amusement may draw to the capital occa-
siona.Uy, take up their residence at the hotels, which are
numerous in the city. The resident gentry of Dublin
now amount to about 2000 families, including clergy-
men and physicians, besides nearly an equal number
of lawyers and attorneys, who occasionally reside there.
The families engaged ir. trade and commerce are cal-
culated at about 5500, and the whole may yield a popu-
lation of 60,000 or 70,000 in the higher and middle
ranks of society. The change which has taken place,
though injurious to commercial pros])erity, has per-
haps in an equal proportion proved beneficial to public
morals; the general character of the inhabitants, which
was once gay and dissipated, has now become more
serious and religious, and those suras fonucrly lavished
on expensive pleasures are now happily converted to
purposes of a more exalted nature. Formerly there
2fi0

were seven theatres well supported ; at present the
only one which remains is frequently thinly attended.
Club-houses and gaming-tables are nearly deserted ;
and even among the lower classes vice of every kind
has visibly diminished.' In 1831 the population of
Dublin was 204,165; and in 1841, 232,726.

Kilkenny, the capital of the county of the same name,
situated on the River Nore, was formerly a town of
great consequence, as its ancient castle, the ruins of its
embattled walls, and churches, testify. Till lately, it
carried on a considerable trade in the manufacture of
woollen cloths and blankets ; but these branches have
in a great degree fallen off, and the business is now
confined to the retail of necessaries for its inhabitants,
and the sale of the agricultural produce of the dis-
trict. The city contains several good streets, which
are respectably inhabited, both by private families and
tradesmen; but the suburbs are m- arable. The most
conspicuous ornament of the city is the fine baronial
castle of the Marquis of Ormond, full of ^istorical as-
sociations, rising boldly over the Nore. The Cathedral
of St Canice, built in 1202, is not excelled by any of
the ancient ecclesiastical buildings in the kingdom,
except St Patrick's and Christ-Church in Dublin. The
town possesses a number of respectable schools, and
various asylums and other beneficiary institutions.
Near the town, as already noticed, there is a ir.crble
quarry of considerable local importance. Popuktion
in 1831, 23,741; in 1841, 23,625.

Brogheda, in the county of Louth, and situated on
the Boyne, in the line of road from Dublin to Belfast,
is a town of respectable appearance, and the seat of an
industrious population. From the time the English
settled in Ireland, this town was called Tredagh, and
considered of such importance, that parliaments were
formerly held in it. In 1649 it was stormed by Crom-
well, and the inhabitants put to the sword, except a few
who were transported to America. Five steamers ply
regularly between Drogheda and Liverpool or Glasgow,
carrying out com, cattle, sheep, pigs, and fowl, and
bringing back cotton cloth, timber, leather, tobacco, salt,
and iron. Drogheda contains three Episcopal churches
— St Peter's, St Mary's, and St Mark's, which is a chapel
of ease to St Peter's; four Romnn Catholic chapels,
two convents, and a friary. The chief civic buildings
are a handsome tholsel, customhouse, mayoralty-house,
jail, and linen-hall. The town does not bear a literary
character : it has, however, four tolerably good book-
sellers' shops and a reading-room : there is also a me-
chanics* society in Drogheda. Its principal manufac-
tories are a fiax-mill, two foundries, salt-works, a dis-
tillery, and three breweries. There are, besides, several
large flour -mills, and a soap and candle manufactory.
There is a salmon - fishery on the Boyne, close to tlie
town ; and cod, haddock, plaice, soles, and gurnet, are
abundantly caught along the coast. The linen trade
is still carried on in Drogheda, though it is at present
in a very depressed condition. The time of its greatest
prosperity was from 1814 to 1820, during which period
4000 pieces of linen were averaged to be the weekly
product. There was alio a temporary revival of the
cotton trade in this town ; but in the commercial panic
of 1825-6, many of the Drogheda weavers passed over
to Manchester and Oldham, others went to France, and
a large body emigrated to America, in conseouence of
which the cotton business ceased. The population in
1831 was 17,306; and in 1841, 19,260. In 1845 there
belonged to the port 41 sailing vessels, with a tonnage
of 3814; 5 steamers, with a tonnage of 2776; and
the customs in the same year amounted to £9,372,

MUNSTER.

MuNSTKR coiiiains six counties, Clare, Cork, Kerry,
Limerick, Tipperary, and Waterford, and may be con-
sidered as that part of Ireland in which the national
character and the national habits of all kinds are
maintained in their greatest purity. Some of the largest
seats of population in the island, as the cities of Cork,
Waterford, and Limrrick, are situated in Munster, The

IRELAND.

proTinoe oontftini many tract* of beautiAil soenery, and
one in particular, whicn is Allowed to be unequalled in
the kingdom — the celebrated lake diatrict at Killamej.
The lakes of Killamey are situated in the bosom of
the mountainous county of Kerry, and are annually
risited by traTellers from all parts of the island, as
well as from neighbouring countries. They are three in
number, of unequal size, and considerably varied with
respect ^o surrounding scenery, though that may be
described as generally of a mountainous character.
Lough Lane, or the Lower Lake, by far the largest of
the three, is skit-ted on one side by the lerel and well-
cultirateu country surrounding the pleasant village of
Killamey; on the other side rise the Olena and Toraiei?
Mountains. In this lake there are a number of wooded
islands, one of which contains the ruins of an abbey,
and another the remains of an ancient castle. On the
shore, towards the east, is the beautiful ruin of Muck-
ross Abbey. Divided from the Lower Lake by the line
wooded promontory of Muckross, but accessible by two
channels of level water, ia the Middle Lake, called also
Turk Lake, from the name of the mountain at whose
foot it reposee. Over and above the islands which stud
the surface, the beauty of these two sheets of water may
be said to consist in the irregular promontories and
slopes, generally wooded, by which they are surrounded,
and above which the mountains tower in sterile gran-
deur. In many nooks of the scenery, elegant mansions
look out upon the lakes; in others the mountain streams
are seen descending in glittering cascades. The Upper
Lake, the third of iho series, is 3 miles apart from the
middle one, on a higher level, and totally emboaomed
amidst the hills. A stream descending from the one to
the other can bu passed in a boat; and at a particular
place on the pasf 'ge, it is common for tourists to have
a bugle played, in order to enjoy the oft -repeating
echoes which it awakes in the neighbouring hills. The
Upper Lake, having the wooded heights of Derieunighy
on one side, the round-headed Purple Mountains on the
other, and at the head, the bare many-coloured ridge of
Macgillicuddy Reeks, while the surface is broken by a
variety of sylvan islets, presents a landscape of enchant-
ing lovelinesa. In connection with the lakes, there is
a narrow rugged vale named Dunloe, which is usually
taken in by a tourist in a survey cf this fine scenery.

Amongst other beautiful places in Munster, we can
only particularise Glengarriff, a rugged and most pic-
turesque vale near the head of Bantry Bay; the banka
of the Blackwater, between Lismore and Youghal; the
River Lee, below Cork, and the fine natural harbour
(the Core of Cork) in which it terminates ; and the
lofty iron-bound coasta of Clare, amidst which are
some scenes of uncommon grandeur.

The soil in the southern parts of Limerick and Tip-
perary is perhaps not inferior iu fertility to any portion
of Europe, The Corkass lands of the former, and the
Golden Vale cf the latter, are celDbrated for their
extraordinary richness. These districts are chiefly ap-
propriated to the feeding of black cattle. Wheat hus-
bandry is cultivated throughout the limestone districts
of Tipperary, Clare, and Limerick, while dairy-farm-
ing is followed in the mountain districts of Kerry and
Waterford. The potato culture necessary to supply the
wants of an over-dense population, is eagerly pursued
throughout the whole province ; and it is a deplorable
fact, that a large portion of that population have no
other food during the greater part of the year. The
grass farms let in large divisions of from 150 to 400
acres, at from £2 to £3 per acre. In the dairies of the
county of Cork, the great butter country of Munster,
it is no uncommon thing to have from one to two hun-
dred cows in profit; the advantage of which is, that a
cask is filled at once by butter all of the same chunting.
The sweet thick cream only ia churned, and that every
morning. The pastures of these dairy-farms are highly
manured, and are never broken up for> tillage, expe-
rience having taught the dairy-farmers that the older
the sward the richer is the n\ilk,
, Doily labourers are usually paid from 8d. to lOd. per

day; or if enj^a^d by the year, from 6d. to 8d. In
the latter case, it is supposed that the labourer has a
house, and grass for a cow, at what is called a moderate
rent, and which, in the estimation of the labourer, is
equivalent to additional wages. The food of a great
part of the Munster peasantry consists of potatoes; to
this is usually added milk, and if they live near the
sea, haak or herrings. In Cork, but few of the labour-
ing poor have cows, because milk can be had in abund-
ance at a moderate price at the dairies. It is, however,
very customary to have ewes, which not only supply a
tolerable quantity of milk, but furnish clothing. The
women spm and dye the fleeces, and have them woven
into thick frieze, and fulled at the village fulling-mill:
from this practice, the southern Munster men nre re-
markably well clothed. The cottages, or rather cabins,
are, generally apeaking, wretched; but it may be stated
that in the dwellings and furniture of the people there
is a growing improvement. The character of the Mun-
ster peasantry may be considered as of mixed good and
evil — the evil arising from a total want of restraint in
early childhood, bad education, or, as frequently hap-
pens, none at all. Female education is peculiarly
neglected; and it is deplorable to see marriages con-
tracted when the wife has few or no capabilities ^or
managing a family, and rendering her husband com-
fortable, or his house a happy home.

Generally speaking, the trade of M consists in

the export of provisions and agriculti- ; • > iduce, as
wheat, oats, and potatoes, to a large . There

ia on the Shannon an active fishery for - '.t, herrings,
&c. and abundance of excellent fish are bwiH' into Lime-
rick, Ennis, Kilrush, and to the county of Kerry. Along
the coast of Cork there is a fishery for pilchards, her-
rings, and other kinds of fish, which are caught in
great quantities, so that frequently the farmers manure
the fields with sprats.

Chief Towns.

The leading towns of Munster are Cork, Limerick,
and Waterford. The name Cork ia derived from the
Irish word Corcah, which signifies a marsh. This city,
T, hich ranks as the second in Ireland with respect to
population and commercial importance, stands on the
River Lee, which, through several channels, pours its
waters into the harbour, from whence the tide flows to
some distance above the town. The streets are built
along the river channels, which, being all quayed, give
the city somewhat of a Venetian character : of late
years, however, the narrower have been arched over,
and now only the main streams, in which the merchant
vessels lie, are left open.

The Episcopal ecclesiastical buildings of Cork con-
sist of seven parish churches, the Cathedral of St Fin
Barry, St Luke's Chapel of Ease and Free Church, the
Chapel of the Foundling Hospital, and the Church of
St Michael's at Blackrock : two other churches are in
progress. There are four Roman Catholic chapels,
three new ones nearly completed, and four friaries.
There are numerous dissenting chapels — two meeting-
houses for Wesleyan Methodists, one for the Primitive
Wealeyans, one for Anabaptists, two for Presbyterians,
one for the Society of Friends, and two for two other
small bodies of dissenters. A new Scotch church is in
progress. The principal public buildings are — the
Bishop's Palace, which stands qp a height overlooking
the town; a new jail, a little to the west of the city;
the Customhouse, large and handsome barracks, the
City Library, the Reading-Rooms, the infirmaries, the
Chamber of Commerce, the Steam-Packet Office, and a
well-built and spacious court-house, having in front a
pediment supported on six Corinthian columns, and
surmounted by an emblematic groupof colossal figures.
There is now in progress a new savings' bank, an ex-
tensive and ornamental building, but not more than
half erected ; also a new banking-house of cut stone for a
branch Bank of Ireland; a new and showy corn-market
house ; and an extensive workhouse for the Poor-Law
Union, about three-quarters of a mile from the city.

251

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMAtlOK FOB THE PEOPtt!.

i "

Cork boosti of many iohrol*— the Blue-Coat Hoipi-
tal, for twenty-two soni of reduced Protertants ; the
Green-Coat Hoapital, for twenty children of each sex,
to be brought up Protestants; the Core Street Infant,
Diocesan, Lanca»trian, and Female Orjihan Schools;
the diocesan schools for the united diocese of Cork
and Rose, a free school founded by Archdeacon Porae-
roy, and one of the national colleges.

Among the charitable institutions in this city are —
Bertridge's Charity, where are maintained s- ven old
Protestant soldiers; Skiddy's Almshouse, where twelve
aged women receive A"29 yearly; Dean e's Schools, where
forty poor children are clothed and taught gratis. There
is, besides, a masonic female oiphan asylum, and several
almshouses. Indeed, in proportion to its 8iz'>, Cork
bears a peculiarly high character for benevole'.- .

There are fivn societies here, whose objects nre almost
entirely scientific — the Royal Cork Instit'-iioiii; the
Cuvienan, the Scientific and Literary Sc^^ties, ';he
Mechanics' Institute, and the School and } lbn..y in
Cook Street; one public subscription, aud sureral cir-
culating libraries ; eighteen Protestant societies, de-
voted to religious purposes; four benevolent societies,
for the relief of the distressed; five philanthropic so-
cieties, two lunatic asylums, and a school for instruct-
ing the deaf and dumb poor in George's Street.

The chief exports of Cork are grain, butter, cattle,
and provisions; its chief imports, wine, tea, sugar, and
coals. Steam-vessels communicate between Cork and
Dublin, Bristol and Liverpool ; aud steamboats also
ply daily between Cork and Cove. The population of
Cork, according to the census of 1031, was 107,016; in
1841, 106,055. In 184u there were 384 vessels belong-
in<r to the port, with an aggregate tonnage of 40,000;
14 steamers, with a tonnage of 2900 ; and the customs'
duties exceeded £302,000.

Limerick, the chief city of the west of Ireland, is
lituated on the Shanno , near the place where that
noble river expands into an estuary. It consists of the
Old aid New Town, respectively situated on the north
and south sides of the river, aud connected by an ele-
gant modem bridge. The new city contains many good
streets, filled with handsome shops; but the Old Town
is confined, dirty, decayed, aud inhabited by a very
miserable population. Limerick contains a handsome
cathedral of some antiquity, situated in the old pai-t of
the city, six Episcopal churches and a chapel of case,
meeting-houses belonging to the Presbyterians, Inde-
pendents, aud I ho Society of Friends, with five Roman
Catholic chapels, three friaries, and one nunnery. The
principal public buildings arc the Exchange, the City
Courthouse, the City and County .Tail, the Police Bar-
rack, the Customhouse, the Commercial Buildings, the
Linen-Hall, the Market, and two banks. Though Lime-
rick is not a particularly literary city, it has an excel-
lent library and some very good booksellers' shops.
The princip:il school at Limerick is the Diocesan, but
there are many private day and boarding schools.
There are many charitable institutions — as the County
Hospital ; the House of Industry for the aged and
infirm, widows, orphans, young females, and deserted
children; the Corporation Almshouse; Dr Hall's and
Mrs Villiers's Almshouses.

With regard to the trade of Limerick, it has been
observed, that though it has increased with the exten-
sion of the city, it has done so by no means in an
adequate proportion wlien its peculiar advantages are
considered; the Shannon, which connects it with Clare,
Kerry, Waterford, and Tipperary, aiibrdiiig it innu-
merable commercial facilities. The quays of Limerick
are nevertheless a scene of considerable bustle, though
chiefly frequented by vesiiels for the export of the native
produce. Provisiuus to the amount of 75,000 tons are
here shipped annually. In 1845 the port had 114
vessels, with a burthen of 15,000 tons; and the gross
receipt of the customs amounted to £177,000. The
population of Limerick in 11131 was estimated to bo
(;b',555, and in 1841, (iofi'M.

Waterford, the chief town of the county bearing iti
252

name, and a large seaport, is situated on the Sair, a
few miles from its junction with the sea. Native pro-
duce, to the value of £2,000,000, is annually exported
from this city; but the imports are comparatively un-
important. There is here a fine cathedral, founded
by the Ostmen, and endowed with lands by King John,
and several churches, meeting-houses for the Presby-
terians and the Society of Friends, a French church
for the Huguenots, and several abbeys and friaries.
The principal buildings ar3 the Bishop's Palace, tht>
Exchanp, and the City Jail. Amongst its schools are
the Latin Free School, and the Blue Boys' Free School,
in which seventy-five are instructed aud partly clothed
gratis, and the boys apprenticed to different trades.
The population in 1831 was 28,820; in 1841, 29,288.
In 1845 there belonged to the port 186 sailing vessels,
whose tonnage amounted to 23,000; 4 steamers, with
a burthen of 1 000 tons. The gross receipt of customs'
duties exceeded £173,000.

ULSTER.

The most northerly of the provinces is Ulster, con-
taining the counties of Antrim, Armagh,Cavan,Donegal,
Down, Fermanagh, Derry, Monaghan, and Tyrone, The
province of Ulster is hilly. The scenery is in general
picturesque, especially in the vicinity of its chief towns.
Deny, Belfast, and Armagh. In the county of Antrim,
the country from Olenarm to Bengore Head presents
a succession of striking and romantic views. The most
remarkable feature of this scenery is the peculiar con-
formation of the basaltic columns with which it abounds,
and of which the arrangement is strikingly displayed in
Fairhead and the (Hants' Causeway. Bengore, one of
the promontories of the Causeway, lies about 7 miles
west of the little town of Ballycastle: though gene-
rally described as a single headland, it is compcsed
of many small capes and bays, each bearing its own
proper name, and of these capes the most perfect is
Pleaskin. The summit of Pleaskin is covered wiih a
thin grassy sod, which lies upon the rock, the surface
of which is cracked and shivered. A'<jout 10 or 12 feet
from the top, the rock begins to assume a columnar
character, and standing perpendicularly to the horizon,
presents the appearance of a magnificent colonnade,
supported on a foundation of rock nearly 60 feet in
height. About 8 miles from Pleaskin is Fairhead,
the easternmost head of the Causeway, which presents
a huge mass of columnar stones, of coarse texture, but
many of them more than 200 feet in height. Some of
these gigantic stones seem to have fallen from the top,
and now present to the eye of the spectator the appear-
ance of groups of artificial ruins. "The part which may
more properly be called the Giants' Causeway is a kind
of quay, projecting from the base of a steep promon-
tory some hundred feet into the sea : it is composed of
the heads of pillars of basalt, which are placed in close
contact with each other, forming a sort of polygonal
pavement, somewhat I'le the appearance of a solid
honeycomb. The pillars arc jointed, and their arti-
culation curiously exact, the convex termination of
one joint always fitting with precision into a concave
socket in the next. Within about 2 miles of the Giants'
Causeway stands Dunluce Castle, situated on the sum-
mit of a rock whose base is washed by the ocean, by
the ravages of which great part of the building was
suddenly swept from its foundation. The mansion
and offices stand upon the mainland, divided from the
fortress by a deep cut which separates the rock on
which the castle is pliiced. Over this chasm lies the
only approach to the building, along what was one of
the walls of the drawbridge : should the passenger
miss his footing on this narrow path, there is not the
slightefit protection on either side to save him from
the abyss beneavh.

Tho soil of Ulster varies much. In the counties of
Armagh, Down, Antrim, Derry, and Monaghan, it
passes from a deep rich fertile clay to a dry sandy or
gravelly loam; while in Donegal, Tyrone, Fermanagh,
and Cavan, a great proportion of it i* cold, wet, and

IBBLAKD.

one of

promon-
iposed of
Id in close
)olygonal
[f a solid
Iheir arti-
Ination of
la concave
lie Giants'
Tthe Bum-
pcean, by
|ding was
mansion
from the
rock on
lies the
las one of
pasBeiiger
|g not the
Ilim from

lur.ties of
\ghan, it

I sandy ur
nianagh,

I wet, and

spongy. Tillage is, in general, in an improved state
throughout this provinoe ; and though the old Irish
plough and the slide car are still occasionally ustsd in
the remoter parts, many of the modern implements of
husbandry have been introduced, especially in Down
and Londonderry. The English spade has nearly dis-
placed the long or one-sided spade ; the angular har-
row and the thrashing-machine are much iu use; and
the Scotch plough has almost superseded the heavy
Irish one. The com crops most general are oats, bere,
barley, and a small proportion of wheat. Barley is in
Derry said to pay the summer's rent, and flax the
winter's. Potatoes are largely planted by rich and
poor, and gentlemen - farmers cultivate turnips and
mangel-wurzel. Lime and peat are the most usual
incredieuts of the manure employed in the inland dis-
tricts ; while in the maritime counties, sea-sand, sea-
weed of different sorts, and various kinds of shells pul-
verised, are used in addition. From the wetness ^f the
Roil, in some of the northern parts of Monaghan, the
mi.nure is usually carried to the lielda in baskets,
called burdocks, which are slung over asses' backs or
the shoulders of the poor woiui ->. A small but hardy
race of horses is leared in tb island of Rathlin, or
Haghery ; and the old Irish sh ip still prevails in and
near Carey, in the county of Antrim. Pigs, goats, and
donkeys, are numerous, the latter being much used in
the counties of Cavan and Monaghan. A good deal of
butte:: is sent to the markets of Belfast, Antrim, and
Derry, from the various dairies scattered through Ulste::'.
Whatever were the manufactures of Ireland before
the time of James I., they were swept away in the
long series of wars between government and the local
chieftains in the days of the Tudors; and the Scottish
settlers in the north of Ireland, and those English
whom Boyle, Earl of Cork, brought into Munster,
may be considered the introducers of nearly all the
manufactures that now exist in Ireland. Duriiirr the
reigns of Charles I. and II. much attenti'^n was paid
to them ; and the exertions of Lord Strafford, Sir
William Temple, and the Duke of Ormond, caused
the establishment of the linen trade to be attributed
successively to each. The Duke of Ormond not only
procured several acts for its encouragement, but sent
Irishmen to Flanders to be instructed in the details of
the flax manufacture; and also established a linen fac-
tory both at Chapelziod, near Dublin, and at Carrick-
on-Suir. lu the reign of William III., the linen busi-
uess rose to still greater importsjiuu, fruui the compact
between the English and Irish merchants to dibc^urage
the woollen and promote the linen trade ; for which
purpose they procured a statute to be passed, levying
additional duty on Irish woollen goods, from a jealous
fear that the prosperity of the Irish woollen trade was
inconsistent with the welfare of that of England, An-
other impetus was given to the linen trade by the emi-
gration of the French manufacturers, after the Edict of
Nantes, of whom a large number took refuge in Ireland;
and Mr Louis Cromelin, a leading manufacturer, ob-
tained a patent for improving and carrying it on, and
his efforts were crowned with considerable success. In
the 9th yearof Queen Anne,a board of linen and hempen
manufactures was established, and linen allowed to be
exported, duty free. In the ))th of George I., a grant
was given to build a linen-hall,ant another to encourage
the growth of flax and hemp. Previous to 1778, bleached
linen was sold in the fairs, the manufacturer being the
bleacher; but when the manufacture extended, bleach-
ing became a separate business, Considerable sums
had been from time to time voted by parliament for its
support; and during the eighteenth century the trade
continued to advance, until the check it received during
the American war. On the re-establishment of peace
it revived, and was at its greatest height from 1792 to
1796. Since this period it has considerably increased,
and though deprived of all artificial props, in the form
of bounties, is now a flourishing department of industry.
Belfast is the great centre to wliich the linens, not only
of Ulster, but also of the weaving districts iu the west

of Irela.id, are sent for sale; and from hence ]arg<f
quantities are exported to foreign countries. The linen
trade prospers at Castlewellar, Rathfriland, and Bon-
bridge, in the county of Down, and also at Lurgon in
the county of Armagh, where the weavers are at once
weavers and manufucturers. At Dungannon, in the
neighbouring county of Tyrone, it has greatly declined,
and is in Donegal chiefly confined to those who work
for farmers or market sale.

The province of L.ster was (Uso the scat of the first
cotton manufactory introduced into Ireland. In 1777
the manufactures were in the lowest state of depression.
To give them some stimulus, Mr Joy conceived the plan
of introducing cotton machinery from Scotland; and a
firm for this charitable purpose was formed, of Joy,
M'Cabe, and M'Craken ; and a mill for spinning twist
by water was erected by them at Belfast in 1784, at
which time the manufacture may be said to have been
established; and ko rapidly did it spread, that in 1800,
in a circuit of ten miles, comprehending Belfast and
Lisbum, it gave employment to 27,000 individuals.
But from want of assistance at home to protect it, and
the embargo laid on American goods, which inundated
Ireland with English manufactures, the trade has de-
clined, and the cotton manufacture is now almost alto-
gether confined to the county of Antrim. Through the >
early part of the present century, it was caiiied on to
a considerable extent in Drogheda, CoUon, Strafford,
Mountmellick, Limerick, and Bandon. Belfast was,
however, the place where most skill and capital were
expended; as the trade increased ihcre, it declined in
other parts of the kingdom; and though large manufac-
tories have formerly been established at Clonmel, Port-
land, and Limerick, it may for all practical purposes
be considered as extinct in the other parts of Ireland.

Wherever the linen trade is in operation, the people
have constant employment, in consequence of being
able to fall back upon their looms when agriculturtS
work is not in demand. They may be said, in common
years, to enjoy a competency — that is, a sufliciency of
food, raiment, and fuel. But in the western parts of
Ulster — as, for ex^.d^ile, the mountainous districts of
Tyrone, Donegal, and Derry, where the lineii manu-
facture does not exist to any extent — the labouring-
classes are not much better off than in the three other
provinces. However, speaking of Ulster generally, it
may be said the lower classes have more self-resped;,
more industry, more desire for advancement in life,
than in other parts of Ireland. In fact, they are i^
better educated, and therefore a more improving people.
As may be expected, their taste for comfort operates in
the economy of their houses and farms; and except
in the mountainous districts above alluded toj where
old habits still maintain their ground, the Ulster pea-
santry may be considered as a respectable class in
society. The average rent of arable land is from £2
to £3 per acre, usually rising in ihe immediate neigh-
bourhood of towns to £5 or £6. The wages in Ulster
vary from 6d. to 9d. a day in winter, and in summer
from lOd. to Is, a day, without diet. The food of the
peasantry is chiefly potatoes, oatmeal porridge, oaten
bread, milk, and fish, which those who live near the sea
vary with that species of sea-weed called the edible aJga.
The salt-water fisheries of Ireland cannot bo said to
have ever thriven. Under the former system of the
Irish Parliament, of giving bounties, large sums were
at different times voted for their encouragement; but
by this there was no real strength given, and on the
withdrawal of these bounties, things fell below their
natural level, and the sea-fisheries became altogether
ineflicient for any purpose but that of supplying the
localities surrounding the fisherman's dwelling. The
fishery laws are now enforced with regard to both the
sea and river-fishin-? and therefore tnere is reason to
believe that this branch of industry is on the increase,
and, if properly managed, will become one of the chief
means of benefiting the island. The river-fisheries,
though less productive than under better managemct
they might hare been, yet form in several parts of

253

CUAXSZBB'B nrFOBUATION FOR '^HE PEOPLE.

i lifter a luoKktiTe source >i property. The lakei and

r;Ters abound with trout, ^ika, perch, eeli, and char;

Mid on the Bann, the Fovle, o.ad tho Dallyghannon in

Uoaegal.avc orlabliihed very luoccssful salmon C Aerie*.

Foimerly, wiialee were not unf 'I'linently, uad t.,i.l arc,

thoufch but Bsldoin, taken at the coait-fisheriet m this

proTince. The ealmon-ligheries of the Foyle oud tho

Bann were early celebrated. In Phillipi'e raanuHcript

they are statod to have btvn let from 1609 to l()12

at je666, 13«. 4d. a year; for three yearg at £8J0; for

elerenyean at £lOtiO; and for twelve years, ending nt

Easter 1639, at j£iiOO. Tho right of fishing the river

Foyle, so far as Lifford, is veste>1 in the Irish Society

by the chaixer of Londonderry, j^iunted by JaiT.ij;> 1. in

1613. -The increase of the quantity of fish taki x since

the introduction of stake-nets is very oonsiu'rablo.

The salmon for exportation to London and to Li^'u.rponl

are packed with ice in boxes, fifteen raiMon, weighing

together about 90 lbs., being put into u^ch case. In a

report made to Sir William Petty about 1682, it is

stated that the fishing for salmon in the Baun Klver,

ai\d so in ell the salmon-fisheries, begins with the Ht

of May, and ends on the last of July. But by the pre

sent lavf, the season now begins on the Ist of I'.'.bruary,

and ends n.'t the 1st of September, seven months boaig

open and iive close. The Bann fishery has cf late

years been much neglected; but under the spirited and

judicious :o.nna;^;ment of Charles Atkinson, I-^gq., it has

been much i!:i',)V'>rsd during the last yenr.

t'hlcfToi'.i,:.

The chief towns in ULv^. we JifJfut and Antrim,
in the county of Antrim; ^' ■ ■fd-mdiri-ii (n: Demi, -i/aA
Coleraine, in the county of ijondnuditi /- Ihn-eiin' , in
the county of tho same nanti; ; .'■'iinlrmi-, in Tyrone;
Armagh, in Armagh; ui<A Netir^ I''.lufH,tLi,i! hown-
pati'ic'-, in the counties </t' Antrin? rt i'own. V'ithout
referents to counties, Bt'fiuit, I.isi, im, Newry, .irmagh,
and some ;;1ace8 of Bu.>p.llr:i' wAc, ii>.av be said to form a
cluster of towns chiefly devoted to tlic linen manufacture,
and all occupied by a population who, for generations,
have been noted for their industry and peaceful habits.

Belfast is esteemr ! the principul town and seaport
in this province of Ireiand. It is advantageously situ-
tt^d on the west side ui' the Lagan, where that river
:v, i.'lU into an estuary cuJled the Bay of Belfast: dis-
taiiC'i) from Dublin 85 miles. The ground on which the
to«'n stands is flat, while the beautiful and fertile en-
virons 'A the western side of the vale are bounded by
a pictur>: :q <e range of mountains. Within the town,
the oppoL.'ti' shore of the Lagan is reached by a long
stone bridge, which also forms the egress from Belfast
towards Douagiiadee. Although this portion of Ireland
is inhabited chiefly by Scotch, or their descendants,
Belfast, like Dublin, is essentially an English town
in external aspect, being built of brick, and having
throi'i.'hout a neat and regular appearance, with many
iiandsome shops. The prosperity of Belfast is dated
from the revolution of 1688, when religious and political
tranquillity settled upon that part of Ireland. Belfast
is in Irelar.d what Glasgow is to Scotland, and Liver-
pool to Englaiid. In manufactures, it is now the great
dep6t of the linen business, and the seat of the cotton
trade, having within itself all the various branches
necessary for producing and finishing these fabrics,
from the ^'^est cambric to the coarsest canvas. There
are in Belfast and its suburbs fifteen steam-power
mills, for the spinning of linen yams. Among these,
the factory of Mulholland and Company, employing
800 persons, spins 720 tons of flax annually, tho yam
of which is worth j£80,000. The hand-spun yarn sold
on commission in the Linen-Hall (a cluster of buildings
devoted to the use of linen factors), produces about
4)100,000 a year. The cotton trade is declining, seve-
ral of the mills being employed in spinning flax ; and
ther« are now only six cotton-mills in the town. There
are also extensive corn-mills, breweries, distilleries,
and tan-yards, with manufactoriea of machinery, cord-
age, glaw, iron, soap, caudles, tobacco^ &c. for home
254

uie and exportation. In commerce, its exports and
imports are extensive; the amount of duties paid
at the customhouse of late years averaging nearly
4:370,000. The number of vessels lately belonging to
the port was 386, the aggregate burthen of which was
53,500 tons. Latterly, great improvements have been
efl'ected for the accommodation of the shipping, by
deepening and contracting the harbour, and funiishiug
handsome and substantial quays, wharfs, and docks.
The port usually exhibits a busy scene of industry, by
tho daily sailing and arrival of ships and steam- vessels.
Ten ateamers sail regularly — fouv t'l fi] aj/.iv, three to
Liverpool, two to London, and m\ii tu Duhlii.. lu the
retail trade, the numerous brntK-heii lae can-ie.' I'l. in
a spirited and tradesmen-Iik'..- luinui '; i nil the viriouf'
markets for tho sale of the \ uvaT )-. -luce, vlixh is
brought in large quantities toi' wn,>u;: v.ellconCucted;
in a word, the whole Fvstem of (Hide ajni ir .'ut't- v ; j oii
an efficient t:;ale, aio equals t! m oi arsv f i/wn f>! •imi-
lar siz! in Er.L'land cr Scotland, ''"he prospoiity of th'.«
town is 1!'\ .i/ to be .augmented l-y a railway lately
opened, nlii b is desigruAt to proctt'J to Armagh.*

Belfast iiXi' .mds in i'r'oabyterian and otlisr Dis-
i nt'nters. Tin I'vpiscopal places uf worship are only two
' (some authorities say three) in nuinbo'; but theio r. ■'
ten Presbyterian moftiinft iiov. -s; there are Aim tv,»
rocoting-houBC'j cf IiiU';pe)Hii;ntB; tiie Methodists, f liir;
thj Society of iriendH, one; and tiie Rrji^rn 'atliolicn,
two. The town possewi's svii e txcelltnt ciiui i!o ar.ii
humane institutions: ;he [;rincipal mo — a poO' -house
for ♦,he aged and iafin.n a housf of ii; iibtry, a lunatic
r <ylum, an institution ior the blind and i'or deaf mutes.
This institution is on the same plan as that of Liver-
pool. The blind are emplovi d in weaving and basket-
making, and lately, by the introduction of raised
letters, thev have been instviicted in reading. In 1824,
there were in the town ant! parish sixty-three schools
of all kinds, at which 215^ males and 1666 females
were educated, exclusive of ll^c Royal Academical In-
stitution, which in 1825 C!".'tained 462 boys in its
various classes. This iustitutirm originated in 1807, in
a voluntary subscription of the inhabitants, by whom a
fund was raised of above £25,"00, to which the late
Marquig of Hastings added £50<"'0 for its erection and
the endowment of its teachers and professors. It con-
sists of two departments — one eleiitentary, the other for
the higher branches of science and literature. This
establishment is directed by a president, four vice-
presidents, twenty managers, and ei^-ht visitors, chosen
by the proprietory. Tho chairs in the collegiate de-
partment are eight, embracing Divinity, Moral and
Natural Philosophy, Logic, Mathematics, Greek, Latin,
Hebrew, and a lectureship on Irish. The object of
this academy was to give cheap home education to
those who had heretofore frequented the Scottish col-
leges. The Synod of Ulster receives the general certi-
ficate of this institution as a qualification for ordina-
tion, and it may therefore be now considered the great
seminary for the Presbyterian Church in Ireland. The
Belfast Academy had been founded some time pre-
viously by private subscription.

Of literary societies, Belfast possesses the Society for
Promoting Knowledge, founded 1788; the Literary So-
ciety fur Improvement in Literature, Science, and Anti-
quities, founded 1801 ; and the Natural History Society,
founded 1821. The town has lately received the valu-
able addition of a botanic garden, on a large scale,, and
laid out in an exceedingly tasteful manner. It was
established and is wholly supported by the inhabitants
of Belfast, and aflbrds a pleasing proof of their spirit
and liberality. The population in 1821 was 37,277;
in 1831, 53,287; and in 1841, 75,308.

Londondeiry ranks next to Belfast. Besides being a
seaport of considerable importance, it is the seat of a
bishop's see. It is situated on the vtest bank of tho

♦ We Imvo been Indebted for a number of these particulars to
■ The Tourist's Guide to Ireland,' a liighly creditable work,
published by Hcssr* W. Ciury, Jun. and Co,, Dublin.

IRELAND.

porti and
tL«B paid
ig nearly
longing to
rbich wai
lavo been
pping, by
furnitthing
,nd dock*,
duitry, by
,m-Tei3elf.
:, ttitee to
,. lu tha
rie-" I 'Si in
he 1 *riou$
, wlixh i»
sonuucted .

Ulit'v ^J oil

in "! 'Inii-
uUy of til.'
way lately
lagh.*
otlisr Di«-
re only two
t theio r. ••
e ivieo t'^o
idistd, i'Mir.'
) * ^athoiic*,
,; 'iloand
jj^:' -house
y, a lunatic
deaf mutes.
>,t of Liver-
lud baskct-
i of raised
g. In 1824,
irce schools
JGG females
iemical In-
boys in its
in 1U07, in
by whom a
ch the late
irection and
rs. It con-
be other for
ture. This
four vice-
[tors, chosen
ilegiate de-
Moral and
reek, Latin,
object of
^ucation to
[cottish col-
Ineral certi-
for ordina-
Id the great
Hand. The
time pre-

I Society for
literary So-
I, and Anti-
Iry Society,
^1 the valu-
[ scale, and
|r. It was
Inhabitants
itheir spirit
las 37,*277;

^08 being a
seat of a
ak of the

ariiculiirs to
Itable work,

Foylo, a few milos above the point where that river
spreads into the harbour of Loch Foyle, STid is dis-
tant 146 miles from Dublin. The original town, built
by Sir Henry Dowera about 1603-4, was burne<l by Sir
Cfahir O'Pogherty in 1608; and the present city may
be considered as deriving its origin from the London
plantation, which was the immediate result of that
catastrophe. The walls of Derry are described by
Pynnar as 'excellently made, and neatly wrought; the
circuit thereof about 284 perches, and in every place
the wall being 24 feet high and 6 in thickness;' and
after a lapse of more than two centuries, these fortifi-
cations retain their original form and character. The
north-west bastion wan demolished in 1824, to make
room for a market; and in 182G the central western
bastion was modified for the reception of Walker's
Testimonial ; but the guns used during the celebrated
siege are still preserved in their original places. The
total number of cannon remaining ' < the city and
suburbs is about fifty; and in the court-house yard
stands Roaring Meg, so caueu from the loudness of her
report during the siege. This cannon is 4 feet 6 inches
round at the thickest part, and 1 1 feet long, and is
thus inscribed — * Fishmo. iebs, liONDON, 1642.'

The chief of the ecclesiasv' -^al buildings is the Cathe-
dral. For nearly twenty years after its plantation,
Derry was without a proper place of worship, part of
the ruined church of St Augustine being employed
for that purpose. At length a royal commission of
inquiry was appointed, which, in 1628, reported that
the corporation of London had begun to build a fair
church in Derry, and in 1633 its erection was com-
. pleted. This event is recorded in a tablet, which was
originally placed over the door of the porch of the old
cathedral, but is now over that of the belfry, bearing
the following couplet : —

' If stones could speak, then London's praise should souiid,
Who built this chiurob and city from tho ground,— a. d. 1633,'

handiiome buildings hare bee.? erpcted, with cut stone
fronts — the Court-house, the Jail, the Presbyterian
Church, Primate Stewart's Free School, founded and
liberally endowed by him, and well carried on; tho
National School, and the Savings' Bank. The cathedral
has been re-edified within these five years, at an expense
exceeding £80,000, in the pointed Gothic style, for the
most part in very good taste; the organ is a remark-
ably fine one, and the choir excellent. The roads, in
all directions, are admirable; and in the laying-out of
the new ones, they are carried round instead of over
the hills. There is water-carriage from both Belfast
and Newry by lake and canal, to within four miles of
the city; the streets have flagged footways, and are
well lighted with gas. About forty years since, the
population was only 1000; in 1841 it was 10,246. The
archbishop of Armagh, p'lraate of all Ireland, resides
close to the town, as dc also a 'urge number of clergy-
men attached to the cathedral, as well as many re-
spectable gentry. Near Armagh stands the Observa-
tory, built and endowed by Primate Robinson, whose
munificence greatly contributed to the advance of
science and improvement of the whole diocese.

The other principal places of worship are — a chapel of
ease, a free church, several Presbyterian meeting-houses,
a Wesleyan chapel, a Primitive Wesleyan Methodist
chapel, also Reformed Presbyterian, Seceding, and In-
dependent chapels, and a Roman Catholic chapel,
which can accommodate 2000 persons. The principal
buildings in the city are the Bishop's Palace, the Pub-
lic Library and News-room, the Lunatic Asylum, the
Jail, and the Corporation Hall. Of its various manu-
factories, the chief are two great distilleries, and two
corn-mills, one worked by a steam-engine of eighteen,
the other by one of twenty horse-power. The public
schools in Derry are — the Diocesan, the Parochial, the
Presbyterian, the Meeting-house, St Columb's, the
Barracks, the Infant School; and besides these are
many others, public and private. Them is here a
branch of the London Bible Society, the Londonderry
Literary Society, and one for promoting religious,
moral, and historical knowledge. There are also the
Londonderry Farmers' Society, and the Mechanics'
Institution. The port carries on a considerable trafiic,
both with respect to imports of foreign and British
produce, and exports. The estimated value of the ex-
ports of Irish produce is above £1,000,000 sterling per
annum. The population of Londonderry in 1831 was
10,130; and in 1841, 1.5,196. In 1845 the shipping
belonging to the port exceeded 6200 tons; and the
gross cuotoms' duties £105,800.

The city oi Armagh, situated in an inland part of the
country, is of considerable local importance. It is
placed in the niidpt of a rich and beautiful district,
the face of which is singularly varied by detached hills,
some of which are more than 1000 feet in height.
This character of country stretches from Lough Neagh
in the north to the north-western part of the county
of Meath in the south, and is well watered by lakes
and streams, and, generally speaking, richly furnished
with wood. The city stands on a hill, which is crowned
by the old cathedral, around which the town has
gradually arisen. Within these few yean,

coNNAuanT.
CoNNAUGiiT, the smallest of the four provinces, con-
tains but five counties, those of Lcitrim, Roscommon,
Mayo, Sligo, and Galwuij. There are in this province
large tracts of mountainous and bterile land, especially
in the western parts of the counties of Qalway and
Mayo. The peninsula formed by the western part of
the first of these counties is named Connemara, and is
famed for its scenery, which somewhat resembles that
of Argyleshire. It may be described as a vast tract
of mingled bog, lake, rocky moorland, and mountain,
bounded and partially penetrated by deep inlets of the
sea, resembling the fiords of Norway. The principal
lake is Lough Corrib, which is 20 miles long, full of
islands, and surrounded by an extensive rocky desert,
bearing no small resemblance to those of Arabia. Be-
tween this lake and the western extremity of Conne-
mara, there is a range of tall swelling green hills, called
the Twelve Pins of Bunabola; and to the north of these
is an estuary famed for its wild scenery, named the
Killery, many miles in length, and connected with the
Atlantic by a passage only 30 feet wide. Connemara
contains a small, scattered, and primitive population,
unusually full of superstitious and old feudal feelings.
Besides Clifden, a modem fishing -village on the west
coast, there is scarcely any such seat of population in
the district. There are, however, a few homely inns
for the accommodation of the numerous tourists who
flock thither during summer.

From the high grounds near Westport is obtained a
view of Clew Bay, a magnificent sheet of almost enclosed
water, full of islands, and bounded by lofty moun-
tains, amongst which the most conspicuous are Croagh
Patrick and Nephin. The islands of Clare and Achill
bound the scene towards the west. In some states of
the weather, and particularly when a summer sun is
calmly descending on Clare, the view of Clew Bay is
one of extraordinary beauty. The islands &n said by
the common people to be as numerous as the days in
a year, but in reality are only about a hundred. Croagh
Patrick is regarded with superstitious feelings by the
peasantry, as the spot where their tutelary saint was
accustomed to preach.

Amidst the great tracts of wild ground in Connaught,
there are a few other spots of an unusually attractive
character. The scenery round Lough Allen, out of
which the Shannon flows, is extremely pretty, as is
also that near Boyle, at the foot of the Curlew Moun-
tains. At Lough Gill, near Sligo, a lake bearing a
strong resemblance to the upper lake of Killamey,
and the little Bay of Ardnaglass, into which falls the
cataract of Ballysedare, are scenes of peculiar beauty.
Much of the surface of Galway is flat, showing, for

.__ twenty miles together, a succession of narrow limestone

several | rocks, like parapet walls of three feet high, placed in

255

Ill

CHAMBEItS'S INFORMATION FOR THE rLOi'i.E.

parallel lines to each other, at diitancei of horn three
to ten feet: the intermediate ipaoei, though appa-
rently but a waste of rock and stone, supply the finest
sheep pasture in the kingdom.

The great central limestone district of Ireland oc-
cupies the southern portion of this province, which to
the eye forms an exception to the general character
of limes one countries, api>earing so exceedingly bar-
mn, that in passing orer tracts of Ualway and Mayo,
the tnireller almost doubts whether ho is not journey-
ing ow a great cemetery covered with tombstones,
rather than over places where the sheep could find
pasture or the peasant plant potatoes. There are,
however, some exceptions to this prevailing sterility,
for nowhere are finer sheep-walks found than in some
parts even uf the southern counties of Connaught.
The tillage of this prorinco is principally confined to
oats snd potatoes, as bMt suited to the shallow moun-
tain bog-soil, which so largely prevails in tho western
baronies. The extreme moisture of the climate is so
inimical to the growth of wheat, that except in a few
parts of Galway, Connaught cannot be said to grow its
own bread-corn. There is a great export of outs and
potatoes from the ports of Gahvay, Westport, and Sligo.
\Vith regard to husbandry, though it certainly is im-
proving, it is yet much inferior to that of the otlier
provinces. The landholders pride themselvus on thu
breed of long-wooled sheep, their great source cf wealth;
and the celebrated Fair of Rallinasloe, where i'roni
80,000 to 100,000 are usually sold, year after year ex-
hibits an improvement in this branch of rural economy.
Horned-cattle, and horses, especially hunters, are also
bred extensively in Ualway. What has been said of
Munster applies in a still more aggravated degree to
Connaught. The property of an absentee landlord is
usually divided into portions ruinously small; and if
the proprietors do not quickly interibrc, deplorable
consequences must result from tho subdivision system.
The grazing farms are let in large portions, which it is
the policy of the farmer not to diminisit. Rents Tary
from £1 to ;£1, 10s. an acre, except in the vicinity of
the towns, where they usually rise to £2 and £3; and
wages ore from lOd. to Is. a day in summer, and from
Ud. to lOd. in winter.

There have been many attempts to introduce the
linen manufacture into Connaught, and markets for
its sale were established in Sligo, Castlebar, Westport,
and Qalway; but though it tlirives to an extent suffi-
cient to supply the rural population, there is reason to
believe that little if any linen is exported from the
province. There is, from the potts above-mentioned, a
pretty large export of oats, whisky, and potatoes.

The peasantry in Connaught are as poor as poverty
can be without amounting to destitution; and except
in the mountain districts, their situation is daily !:«-
coming worse — so much so, that poverty, in times of
scarcity, which, on an average, occur about once in
seven rears, increases to destitution, and appeals to
the richer members of tho empire to save the labour-
ing classes from actual starvation become unavoidable.
The food of those who are tho best off is generally dry
potatoes, with occasionally a herring or an egg. In
Connaught, the indigent {leasant is reduced to a state
of greater poverty, by grai>(>ing at the temporary relief
afforded by the system called by the Irish name of
gambeen (exchange), of which the principle is to fur-
nish provisions to the poor, allowing time for payment,
but generally charging an exorbitant interest. This
system has led to the most deplorable results.

There is a good salmon-fishery near the town of Gal-
way, and one for cod, haak, and haddock, which, from
the poverty of those engaged in it, prevents them
from providing sufficient tackling for their boats, and
is thus less productive than it might be. In some years
the sun-fish, or backing-shark, are abundant off the
shores of Galway, and much excellent oil is produced;
but this fish is so capricious, that the fishery cannot be
looked to with any certainty. The salmon of Uallina-
hinch are regularly sealed up in tin cases by th« een-
■25(i

tleman who farms this fishery from Mr Martin, tho
principal proprietor of the country. There is a very
nroduotive salmon-fishery below tho tluriving town of
Ballina, on the river Moy, from which large quantities
of salmon ure sent to the London market.

Chief Tnwna
Galieay, reckoned the capital of the west, and, in
point of population, the fifth town in the kingdom, is
situated in a valley lying between the bay which bears
its name and Lough Corrib. The town is of consider-
able antiquity, and consists of streets and lanes huddled
together without any regard to comfort or convenience.
The whole partakes of the appearance of a Spanish
town, the result probably of its early intercourse with
Spain; and a small open space near the quay retains
the name of Spanish Parade, The principal ecclesias-
tical buildings are the parish church of St Nicholas,
founded in 1320, a Presbyterian meeting-house, and
the Roman Catholic chapel. The Franciscans, Augus-
tines, and Dominicans have raonasteriec hero. The
chief public buildings are — the County Court-House,
a handsome cut-stone edifice, erected in 1815, with a
portico of four Doric colunms; and tho Tholsel, built
during the civil wars of 1641. The schools in Galway
are mostly under the superintendence of the Roman
Catholic religious orders. There is also one on the
foundation of Krasmus Smith; one belonging to the
National Doard, and about sixteen pansh schools.
Galway possesses a house fi industry, on asylum for
widows and orphans, a Pt'oftistant poorhouse, and a
Magdalen asylum, which is supported by two benevo-
lent Roman Catholic ladies.

The chief manufacture of Galway is flour. There
are a bleach-mill and green on one of the islands, an
extensive paper-mill, and several breweries and distil-
leries, in the town. The exports consist principally of
grain, kelp, nu\.rblc, wool, and provisions; the imports
of timber, wine, coal, salt, hemp, tallow, and iron. In
1845, the vessels entered inwards numbered 141, of an
aggregate burthen of 13,000 tons; while the resscla
cleared outwards amounted to 1 45, with a tonnage of
15,531. In 1840 a splendid deck was opened, from
which great expectations are formed of the increase of
trade. A steamer in this bay is highly necessary for
towing out vessels in adverse winds. In 1845 there
were 18 vessels belonging to the port, with a tonnage of
2700; and the gross customs' duties amounted to
£28,000. In 1831, the population of the town was
27,775; and in 1841, 32,511,

Across the country in a northern direction, and also
situated at the head of a bay beari'i,'; its i uie, stands
Sligo, a town of a much smaller ii pulation than Gal-
way, but more important as respects its commerce. It
has carried on for several years a considerable trade,
both export and import, and is still increasing, notwith-
standing the bad state of its harbour. The exports are
wholly limited to agricultural produce, and of late years
hare amounted to about CO.OOO pigs, worth £200,000 ;
6000 black cattle, worth £60,000; 50,000 firkins
butter, worth £125,(100 ; 22,600 tons of oats, worth
£132,000; and 12 ' i tons of oatmeal, worth £132,000.
In 1 845, Sligo hod .ibout 26 vessels, vrith a tonnage of
3000; and the gross receipts of customs' duties was
£31,000. The retail trade is extensive, articles of every
description in demand being supplied to a large and
populous district. The streets in the older part of the
town are narrow, dirty, and ill-paved, and badly suited
to the bustle of an export trade. But conrunicut
markets have been erected, and the extension of the
town, by i'egularly-built wide streets, is expected to
remedy the Inconvenience and irregularity of tho older
parts. Some good public buildings embellish the pro-
minent points in and about the town, and the river
Garwogue, which bears the surplus waters of Lough
Gill to the bay, and turns several large flour-mills in
its course, is a fine feature in the scene. The suburbs
are beautiful and picturesque. In 1831 the population
WM 15,152; but in 1841 it was only 14,318.

ASIA-EAST INDIES.

Asia— the nio»t extensive, the nio«t divcrBificd, and, so
far M the early hiitory of mankind is conceine<l, the
most interesting of the great divisions of the globe— is
situated between lat. 1" 28' and Vr north, and long.
26" and 190' east. It tH-,:, Dcuupies the greater jwition
of the Eastern Ilcuiisphere, and is bounded on the
north by the Arctic Ocean; east by the Pacific; soutli

by the Indian Ocean ; and west by Africa and Europe
— beinj» separated from the former by tho lied Sea and
the Isthmus of Suez, and from the latter by the Medi-
terranean, niack Hoa, Caucasus chain, (.'aspian Sea, and
tho Oural Mountains. The region thus enclosed liea
compactly together, tho only irregularities in its bound-
ing outline being that succession of peninsular pro-

jectioni) and intervening gulfs which give character to
its eastern and southern seaboard. Its greatest length,
along the 40th parallel, is 5500 miles; the greatest
breadth, from Cape Romania in the Malayan Peninsula
to North- East Cape, along tho 1 04th meridian, 5300
miles; and urea, at the lowest estimate, 10,152,000
square miles, or nearly four times that of Europe.

SUPERFICIAL FEATURES.

The physical aspect and constri'ction of the continent
exhibits every species of divetjity — vast mountain-
chains and elevated table-lands, broad lerel steppes
and sandy deserts, luxuriant plains watered by the
largest rivers, tracts doomed to everlasting snow, or to
scorching sterility, salubrious valleys of incessant ver-
dure, and noisome jungles of the grossest growth.
With such a variety of character, it is impossible to
speak of it as a whole, and consequently geographers
distinguish the following well-defined zones : —

1. Northern or Russian Asia, including the whole of
the continent north of tho Altai and lablonnoi Moun-
tains — a region traversed by large rivers, bleak and
barren, sulfering under an intense cold, thinly peopled,
and almost physically incapable of improvement. West
of tho river Yeuesei this tract presents a succession of
No. 67.

steppes f that is, level countries with a sandy, gravelly,
or clayey bottom, destitute of trees, unless along some
of the river bonks, and covered ])artly with low shrubs,
and partly with coarse grass, which aJibrds in summer a
scanty pasture. Here also there arc numerous swamps
and salt-marshes, and only the first stage of the ascent
towards the Altai is capable of a rude cultivation.
Between the Ycnesei and Lena the country has more
of an undulating character, is covered with forests of
pine and birch, has finer ]>asture8, but, in consequence
of the cold, oiTers no facilities for agriculture. East-
ward of this the surface becomes high, bleak, and only
in sheltered situations affords a stunted growth of birch,
willow, and pine ; while all north of the Arctic Circle
the country is one flat bog-moss or tundra, interspersed
by lakes, frozen for ten months of the year, and even
during summer the thaw does not penetrate beyond
eight or ten inches.

2. Central Asia, lying principally between the 30th and
50th parallels — having the Altai and lablonnoi Moun-
tains on the north, the Himalaya and Hindoo Koosh
on the south, the Khing-Khan and Yun-Ling ranges on
the east, and the Highlands of Tartary on the west.
This region comprises Mongolia, the Desert of Kobi,
Thibet, and part of Tartary, and consists of a series of

257

CHAMBEB£*S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Mconillnff plateaux, divorfified b;|r mountain rWaei, aiid
intorsoctcd by viUloyi. That of Mongolia and Kobi,
for example, ii luppoied to havo an abcoluto elevation
of not loM than 'MOO feet, with ita ridgei riii.ig to 10,000
feet nr upirardi; that between the continei of China
and Thibet ii itill more elevated, and more dirernitied
by ridgea; while that of Thibet oonaiiti of leveral step^i,
the lowett of which ii laid to have an abiolute eleva^
tion of not leti than 1U,00U jet, and the highest from
I'J.OOO to 14,000 feet. On the Tartary tide tue country
again begine to fall, i>ad ii more divi.-rsifiod by aandy
■tepuei, lakes, hill-ri<lgei, and fine fertilu valleya. The
whole of (ue central table-land, however, niuit not be
coDfidered as bleak and mouotonou* dciert; for although
the higher ridges are covered with peqietual snow, und
much of it is rugged aikd sterile, yjt there are niai\y
plains affording good pasture, and sheuerod valleys
which produce grain, cotton, wine, und varicuR fruits,

3. A'attem Alia, consisting of Itlandshuria, China Pro-
per, and the adjacent island of Japan ; upon the whole,
alow-lying and somewhat arid region, though traversed
by several of the largest rivers in the world. Mand-
ihuria is rather hilly and desert, particularly the parts
towards the west and north ; and the eastern coast is
fenced by a rugged ridge which descends abruptly to
the sea; but the interior is well-wooded, and though
enduring a severe winter of four months, is capable of
producing rice, cotton, and silk. China, vn the other
hand, is more uniform in surface, if we except the
western provinces, which are intersected by numerous
ramifications from tho Yun ling, I'cling, and other
mountain-ranges. Eastward, towards the cmbouchureit
of the Hoang-Ilo and \ auf-cae-Kiang, the country
assumes the character of an alluvial plain, extending
from the 30th parallel to the Great Wall, a length
of 700 miles, and ranging in breadtli from 100 to 150
and 300 miles. Though part of thia ,'reat plain is soft
and marshy, yet, upon the whole, it is in a high state
of cultivation and fertility, yielding rice, wheat, sugar,
cotton, tobacco, and other produce.

4. Southern Asia, including JlindooistaTi, or India
within the Gai\g'c8 ; aLd liirmah, Siani, Laos, Annain,
and Malaya, o" India without the Ganges. This is de-
cidedly the finebi region of Asia, is diversified by minor
hill-ranges and 'ell-wattred valleys, .njoys a high,
though not an 0|.jjressive te.nperai ure, has only a rainy
season for its winter, and es it daring long droughts,
presents in every district an . .ifailing verdure. India
without the Gauges consists of a curious alternation of
parallel ridges and valleys — the former rising to no
great height, unless in the north ; and the latter rather
narrow, but of great fertility, though liable to inun-
dations during the rainy season. India within the
Ganges exhibits greater diversity: the plains of the
Indus and Ganges (including the Punjaub, or district
between the five tributaries of the former, and the tun-
derbimds, or alluvial delta of the latter) exhibit well-
marked features of tropical verdure and fertility ; but
there are also large t^ndy or gravvlly deserts between
those plains doomed to utter barrenness. South of those
plains the country becomes hilly, and [lasses in tlie
]>eccan, or peninsular jmrt, into a high dry table-land,
fenced by thi; Eastern and Western Ghauts, and rendered
irregular in surface by the Nilgherry and other hills.

b. ire*<em Asia, which, with a few minor excepti< ng,
may be said to consist of high sandy plains, studded
with aalt lakes, very inadequately watere<l by rivers,
and, on the whole, a hot and arid region. It embraces
Arabia, Turkey, Persia, licloochistan, Affghanistan,
and South-Westem Tartary; the minor exceptions to
the general character being the Jiilly districts of AfT-
ghaiiistan, Georgia, and Western Turkey. The desert
steppe of Western Tartary is of no great elevation,
skirts the whole of the Caspian, and passes insensibly
into that sandy tract already described under iiussia
in Europe, p. 20B. The table-laud, or rather table-
lands of Persia, are of varied character — high (5000
feet), nigged, and cold in the north-east; descending
to 3000 feet a little farther aouth: wid in the ceutrw
3M

and southern parts bprcading out into sandy, rravAlly
plains, from T.'OO to •JIU'O foet high, only partially in-
tersected by narrow valleys in the west, and stretching
into the arid moiring deserts of Ileloochistan in the
oast. Turkey is more diverTifieil than any other part
of Western Asia; has several high rungea, the peaks of
whi V are above the anow-line ; a number of fertile
valkys; a few rather bleak and elevutfd tablu-landi;
io!no sandy ai.'d brackish tracts in the aouth; and the
large low alluvial vallev of the Tigris and Euphrataii
in the south-east. Arabia is altogether a high isolated
table-land, conaisting principally of arid, sandy desert,
interspcrsod with hiOy ridges and narrow shrubby val-
leys — u'lknoiTii to all save the wandering tribes, who
find a .scanty subsiaitence on its plains.

OKOLOOICAL STRUCTIIRK.

The geology of Asia is very Imperfectly known ;
nothing like a general skotcli of the succoxsion and re-
lation of its formations has been, or indeed can yet be,
attempted. All that we know for certain is, that moat
of its great plaint are of very recent formation ; that
active volcanoes are still within its limits ; that its
tertiary and post -tertiary deposits have, at no very
distant date, Dflcu subjected to volcanic forces ; and
that almost all t!ie older fonnations have been noticed
at isolated points by sucrcssive travellers. Thus th«
gr^iat plain uf Siberia consists of post-tertiary clays,
gravels, an<l sands, in which the remains of elephants,
rhinoceroses, and other huge animals, no longer existing
theie, are found in abundance; the gi-eat plam of China
is strictly alluvial, and atill in course of formation; so
likewise iiro those of the Ganges and Indus; and the
sandy tracts of Arabia and the west, with their petrified
woods and numiiiulite limestones, point to a compara-
tively recent elevation from the waters of the ocean.
The depressions of the Dead Sea, ( 'uspian, Cutch, &c.
point also to recent geological changes; while the moun-
tain-ranges and table-lands — already described under
I'livsiCAi, Gkoubaphv, vol. i., p. 57- seem to have been
cold and permanent for ages.

Economically, coal is found in the north of China, in
Syria, and in ilindoostan; salt in China, Ilindoostan,
U'est Siberia, Persia, Arabia, and Turkey; marble in
Turkey ; asphalle in Syria, Persia, and the Caspian ;
gold in Japan, China, west borders of Siberia, Uirraah,
und the Malayan Peninsula ; silver in China, Japan,
VVest Siberia, and Turkey ; tin in China, Birinah, Siam,
and the Malayan Peninsula ; quicksilver in China,
Thibet, Japan, Ilindoostan, and t^eylon ; copper in
Japan, West Siberia, Thibet, Turkey, India, and Persia;
iron in the Oural, India, China, Siam, Japan, Turkey,
Persia, and Aftghanistan ; lead in China, the Oural,
Turkey, Georgia, Persia, Siam, and Japan ; and precioun
itoius, including the diamond, in India, the Oural,
Chinese Empire, and Persia.

UYOHOUBAPnY, &c.

The seas, bays, and gulfs which indent and intersect
the surface of Asia are in many respects peculiar, but
ii\ noway so remarkable as those which give character
to i;urope. On the north the Gulf of Obi, a large shal-
low basin, for ten months in the year covered with ice,
is the only important inlet. Ou the east the large and
little-known sea of Okhotsk ; the island-surrounded
Sea of Japan, with its volcanic coasts; the basin of the
V?11ow Sea, and its subordinate Gulf of Petchili, so
- hallow, that there is scarcely six fathoms of water 100
miles off shore; the Gulfs of Tonquiu and Siam. On
the south the Gulf of Martaban; the large open Day of
Itengal, tenuiiiating in the numerous navigable mouths
of the Gauges ; the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its pearl
fisheries, about 550 miles long, and 150 in broadth, con-
nected with the Gulf of Oiuan by a strait SO miles
across; the Red Sea, with its numerous islets and reefs,
1420 miles lone, average breadth 133 — terminating in
the small Gulfs of Suez and Akaba; the foi-mer 180
miles by 22, the latter about 120 by 13.
Tho principal ttraiu an) Uiow of Bab-el-Mandeb,

ASIA.

ly, gfAyuMy
artiAlly iii-
1 ttretuhin);
itan in the
f other p»rt
.he pcnks of
It of fertile
tablulanti*;
^h; mtd the
L Euphr»t««
ligh iioUted
kudy deeerti
ihrubbjr »»!•
tribe*, who

itly known ;
»ion and re<
i can yet be,
i», thbt moat
mation; that
ita ; that iti
, at no very
forcca ; and
been nntiood
8. Thus the
irtiory clays,
of elephants,
jncer existing
)lain of China
formation; so
iVis; and the
their petrified

a conipara-
of the ocean,
in, Cutch, kc.
lile tha moun-
acribed under

1 to have been

h of China, in
Hindoos tan,
marble in
the Caspian ;
)eria, Birraah,
hina, Japan,
'nnah, Siam,
in Cbiniv,
copper in
and Persia;
pan, Turkey,
,, the Oural,
and preciout
the Oural,

and intersect
peculiar, but
ive character
a large shal-
ired with ice,
,he large and
i-8urrounded
basin of the
' Petchili, so
of water 100
i Siam. On
I open Bay of
gable mouths
I for its pearl
fbroadtt, con-
lait 30 miles
lits and reefs,
Irmina'vlug in
foj-mer 180

L^l-Maadeb,

forming the entrance to the Red $<oa, lest than 20 ntiles
•oroBs; Palk's Strait, between Ceylon and the mainland
of Hindooetan; t^traits of Malacrn t'^rming the high-
way between the Indian and Cli' Seas, about A20
miles long, and from '2^ to I III) bi , . . the Channels of
Fokien and Kumiosa, on either lidc 'I that island; the
Htraita of Coroa and La i'crouso, running between
Japan and the mainland of the continent ; and Deh-
ring's Straits, separating Asia from y^merica, at ita
narrowest part not exceeding S6 miles.

The Ulandt more iinuicdiatvly connected with Asia
are the Liakhov group in tho ,\rctic Ocean; the Aleu-
tians in the iSt-n »f Kamtchatka; tho islands of Japan;
Saghalion, Korniusa, Hainan, and Chusan oil' the coast
ofCliiua; Ceylon, the Andaman and Nicobar Isle* iii
tht- Indian Ocean; and Cyprus in the Lerant. The
Japan Isles, forming tho umpire of that namei consist
of Niphon, Yeso, Kiusiu, Hikoko, and the Kuriles,
altogether occupying an area of 'iUU.tiOO square niilf a,
of volcanic origin, subject to destructive earthiiuaku^,
of average fertility, rich in minerals, and peopled by
a busy and ingenious people. The fine island of Ceylon,
now a free coToii; , has an area of *24,500 square inilos,
and whether oc regards its vegetable, animal, or niinoral
produce, is one of the most valuable of tho Qritiah pos-
sessions. [The largo islands of Humatra, Jipn, Uonieo,
Celebes, &c. generally known as the Kast InU^i Islands,
are treated under the head Malaysia in a subsequent
number— 6lt, p. 281.]

The lake* or Mand seas of Asia constitute one of ita
peculiar features, most of these being salt or brackish,
Having no visible outlet, and in aonio instances con-
siderably beneath tho general level of the ocean. The
largest of these is the Caspian, having a length of 760
miles, with an average breadth ol 200, receiving tho
rivers Wolga and Oural, but with no outlet; its waters
brackish, and of unknown depth, and its surface-level
fully 116 feet beneath that of tho Black Sea. Next
is the Sea of Aral, about one-fifth of the size of the
Caspian, with brackish or bitter water, receiving the
streams of the Jyhoun and Sib on, but having no river
of discharge. Of tho same character are tho smaller
lakes renghiz, KhosHclbach, Oubsa, Koko, Bosteng,
&c. — all in the high central plateaux ; and Van, Ouru-
mia, Koch-llissar, the Dead Sea, and others in West
Asia— tho last being not lv»a than 1312 feet beneath
the level of the Mediterranean, (Jf fresh-water lakes
with outlets, tho principal are Baikal in Siberia, 400
miles long, and from 40 to (JO broad, abounding in seals
and fish; Tchaiig, formed by the Irtish; Erivan in
Armenia • Tongting, I'oyang, and Hai in China ; and
Tabarib m Syria, 328 feet beneath the Mediterranean.
Of the rivers which water the continent, a large
number are of the first class; and others, though of
minor volume, become interesting from their historical
associations. The bleak regions of the north are tra-
versed by the Obi, with its large tributaries Irtish and
Tobol, by the Yeuosei, the Lena, and Indigirka — all
of which fall into the Arctic Ocean, and, from being
frozen for so many months, aro of little use to internal
communication. In Kastem Asia we find the Amour,
Hoang-ho, Yang-tse-kiang, and llong-kiang, all of
which are slow flowing rivers, and navigable for a long
way into the interior. India without the Ganges is
watered by the rapid biit little-known rivers Camboja,
Meinam, Thaleain, and Irawady; and Hindoostan by
the Brahraapoutra, the 'sacred' Ganges, and not less
celebrated Indus, with its classical tributaries Sutluj,
Ravee, Chenab, and Jelum. The Ganges, though sub-
ject to annual inundations, and to a veir rapid and
dangerous tidal bore, is one of the most valuable rivers
in tho world, being, with most of its tributaries, navi-
gable to the very basis of tho mountains. The same,
however, caiuiot be said of the Indus, which, though
of ample volume, has an obstructive and shifting delta,
which renders it of little avail, unless to small steamers.
In Western Asia are the Tigris and Euphrates — the
latter, as has been recently proved, navigable for flat-
bottomed steamers so high as Bir.

CLIKATC.

The climateric olTect* have been already adverted to,
in a general way, under thv lieKription of the resi)ec-
tlre regions ; but there are certain *pecialities which
require consideration. A* a whole, the continent of
Asia doe* t.ut enjoy the same nullifying and mollifying
influence* a* Europe. A large proportion i* *ituated
on the confine* of the Polar Circle; a *till larger lection
raised to an enormous altitude: it lie* comparatively
unbroken bv intersecting seas; it has no buniing sandy
tracts on the south to send warm breezes, as Africa
doe*, to Europe; while even it* *outhem tropical di*-
tricts are cooled by currents from the snow-clad central
plat(!ajx. It therefore suffers what Humboldt call* an
e-ccestive climate — that is, excessively hot in summer,
and excessively cold in winter, or differing greatly dur-
ing these •eauons from the mean annual temperature.
Thus excellent grapes come to maturity on the border*
of the Caspian, and yet the thermometer in winter falls
to — 28" Fahrenheit. At Tara in Siberia the tempera-
ture of the air in July and August rise* to (12-, and yet
a few inches under the surface the soil remains per-
petually frozen. The snow-line in the Elburz i* found
at 11,<>UU feet, on the south side of the Himalaya at
12,000 feet, and yet in Thibet the mountains are clear
at an elevation of 16,000 feet. In Arabia, after a night
of hoar-frost, the day-heat is often as high as lit".
At Bombay the mean annual temperature ^r ' 1144 was
81 J "— beuig in .lanuary 75°, February 76", March 7Bi
April 84°, May 86°, June 8,5j°, July ivr, August 81J
September 80^°, October 83^°, November 80*", and E _
cember '!)J°; the greatest cold experienced Deing 65^°
in Jo'iuary, and the greatest heat 92 J" in May. The
wet season in tho same year — that is, June, July,
August, an<l part of September — yielded, by rain-
gauge, upwards of C6 inches of rain.

BOTANY AND ZOOLOOY.

The vegetation of Asia, as might be expected from its
varied climate, soil, altitude, and ither physical causes,
is more abundant and diversified than that of any
other region. The general features have been already
adverted to under the different regions into which we
dirided the continent; but in addition to these we may
notice the following as more especially characteristic :
— Of forest trees — the teak, cedar, sycamore, cypress,
savin, mangrove, bamboo, banyan, plantain, cocoa, and
a variety of other palms, besides aloes, ebony, iron-
wood, rosewood, sandalwood, and other ornamental
hardwoods. Of fruits — the grape, orange, shaddock,
lemon, lime, tamarind, mangosteen, mulberry, olive,
pomegranate, walnut, almond, cocoa, bread-fruit, cashew,
betel, banana, pine-apple, melon, quince, date, apricot,
and all the garden fruits known in Europe. Of spices
and bindred trees and shrubs — cinnamon, nutmeg,
clove, cam .aov, cassava, tet, coffee, cotton, sugar-cane,
sago-palm. &,c (■' grains, cultivated roofs, &c. — rice,
wheat, dhnirvt, iiaize, barley, pease, beans, lentils,
and othtr l-., ■u'muosib; potato, yam, lotus, arrowroot:
of plants » 't,i'j ; ig drugs and dye-stuffs — indigo, amatto,
saffron, ga>;iboge, galls, poppy, rhubarb, castor-oil, sar-
sapnrilla, ginseng, and many others.

Of the animals characteristic of Asia, we may enume-
rate among the mammalia — the apes and monkeys of
the south; the elephant and rhinoceros of India; the
lion, tiger, leopard, panther, ounce, and other felinu;
in the south and west; the wolf, jackal, blue and black
fox, and numerous varieties of the dog; the horse, ass,
and d/.iggetai of Arabia ; the common ox, buffalo,
auroch, yak, and musk ox ; the elk, reindeer, axis,
argali of Siberia, Angora goat, ibex, moufflon, and fat-
tailed sheep; porcupine, jerboa, curious bats, marmot,
lemming, beaver, ermine, &c.; bears, badgers, gluttons,
sea-otters, seals, morses, manati, and other cetacea.
Among hirdi — the peacock, pheasant, white part-
ridge, and innumerable pigeons; eagle, vulture, falcon;
parrots, paroquets, macaws, &c. ; stork, heron, cor-
morant, pelican ; birds of paradise, and others of gny

259

CIIAMDBBS'B INFORMATION FOR TUB PKOFLK

_»; but »«ry f«w ion(tUn. Wcp»i/#t— »llig»Uii
In the IiidiMi riven ; Imi» ooiiitrictor, python, ftnii »
uumb«r of datdly ■vri>8uti In tho jungla; eUiblo turtle;
liMnis, tcMMli, Mill fr»g«. Pi*^, o« 'vory kind and hue,
tn lUl the riven, Ukee, Mid leM, including iharki,
■lurgeoni, flyiiig-flth, ko.; iHelU ot tho iKrvit be»uty
Mid elegMicu; Mid iiutcU in innumerable •ixicief'- lonK)
umAiI, m the lilkwonn, bee, »nd Ihoee pr(Hluoin|{ eochi-
neiU, gkllnutt, Uo, &o. ; nnd othori deitructive Mid
poUonoui, M the locuit, Morpion, Mid luotqulto.

POl'ULATION— INDUHTRV, AlO.

The inkabilauU, uiuftlljr ettim»tc<l at 400,000,000,
belong to the thrcv great rariotiee- Cuuciieian, Moii-

goiian, and Malay ; out theie, in the courie of time,
ave broken into a number of diitinct familiei, rivcei,
and tribeii, which are extremely puzzling to the ethno-
liigi*t. Without attempting Miy foniinl division, the
Jint variety may be regarded ai including the Circat-
•iane, Meorgiaiii, Ariuenlaui, Syriani, Arabi, I'eniani,
AiTghani, and llindooi in the weet and touth; the
tecond, the Tartan, Turki, Kalniucka, Mongoli, Thi-
lietMii, Maudcbooi, Japaneie, Chinese, Birmose, and
utlien of the central and uastern countries; and the
third, the Malays, Macassan, kc. chiefly in the south-
eastern peninsula. Ur, more generally atill, the Hin-
doue, Chinese, Tartan, Arabs and Penians, may be
said to diTide among them the continent as an inho-
ritano, stTing to it languages, religions, laws, customs.
Mid civilisation. Uesiaes the Asiatics I'roper, there
are a considerable number of Kuroueans located in
differont countries — as Kussiaus in Siberia, Greeks in
Turkey, British, French, Portuguese, and Danes in
India. The prevalent rtUgiowi creeds arc — Mohani-
niedMiisiu in Turkey, Arabia, Pcnia, Airgkauistan,
Beloochist^n, and parts of India; Brahmiiiisni and
Bhudilism in India; Bhuddisiii in the Chinese Knipire,
Bimiah, .'fiaro, and the Kust; Idolatry or Feticism in
Eastern Siberia; and Christianity in neveral forms in
Turkey, Western Siberia, and Kuro]>eMi Indiit.

As regards civUiiiation, whatever may have been the
condition of Syria, Persia, India, and other celebrated
nations of Mitiquity, the continent of Asia is now, with
a few fractional except ions, in a state of semi-barbarism
and stagnant imbecility. Siberia has yet rca])cd little
from Russian influence, and is for the most part phy-
sically incapable of doing so: Tartary, Thibet, Mon-
golia, and the whole of Central Asia, are occupied
by nomadic races, whoso flocks Mid herds constitute
their sole wealth and subsistence; China and Japan,
though possessing a literature, laws. Mid religion, though
their people dwell in cities, cultivate the soil with
exactitude and care, and exhibit considerable skill in
the domestic arts, are little, if anything, in advance of
what they were several centuries ago, being destitute
of that elasticity and adaptive capacity essential to a
progreMive civilisation; India without the Ganges is
still far from being entitled to be ranked with civilised
nations; Ilindoostan, with its numerous races, and once
independent states, is morally and industrially, as well
as politically, dead — ail that British influence has yet
eflfbcted being trifling in comparison with the field
before it; the Afl'ghans and Beloochees are rude, half-
pastoral, half-agricultural, warlike races, only as yet
m the second stage of civilised existence ; Arabia and
Penia have been dormant, if not retrograding, for
centuries; and even Turkey, with its fertile soil, fine
climate, and varied produce, is by no means entitled to
bo ranked with the European section of the empire
of which it forms a part.

The ittduMtrial and commercial pursuits of a continent
so little advanced in civilisation must necessarily be of
a humble and limited description — directed more to
the rearing and collecting of raw produce for export,
than to the arts and manufactuiet. Mining consti-
tutes the chief industrial feature in Western Siberia;
theChinete rear tea, cotton, silk, and rice, nuuiufacture
iilk and cotton stufiii, porcelain, fireanus, gunpowder,
books, and toys, and carry on a considerable coaating
260

trade;* thr Jatianeee are eelobrtteJ l.r llislr lacLs/td
wares; India ror her silk, oott >ii| rit.". 1.1, igo, opium,
coffee, and other raw produce, b'- ' vU'Vimi crap*
shawls. Mid similar muiufaoturas i ■ ' ; C>utuiui'A« foi
its exi|iiiaite shawls; Persia for ear)' '; /^ab.a for its
coHue uud sploas; Turkev chiefly for her abundant Mid
variixl raw products. Mid in less dfgroe for her . /rord
blades, damask silks, and Interior caravan ouninierce.

COUNTRIKS ANn OOVUUIMBMn.

The native governments of Asia art generally daipotio,
tempered, however, by tlioir religious creeds and patrl-
uri'hiil customs. The pulitlca.1 divisions are exree<liiigly
uiittable; for which reason we merely exhibit the coun-
tries, with their ^reas, population. Mid chief towns,
devoting the roniaiiider of our sheet to an account of
tho Kait Indies, that section (ff Asia in which the Bri-
tish reader is more especially interested : —

Coiintrha.

Hq. Mtloi.

Population.

rhtofTownii.

Mburln, • •

s.ino.MM

7,000,000

Tobolsk.

('lilncM) i iiplru,

0,100,000

184,000,000

Pokln.

Jaiwn, - - •

ItO.OOO

12,000,000

Jr.lci.

Tiirtary, - • -

730,000

7,000,000

Turkoitan.

Tiirkry, ■ • •

4m),ooo

l»,000,flOO

Hmyma.

Arabia, - • -

1,000,000

10,000,000

Moova.

Pcraiii, Ac.

310,000

1X,000,000

Tvlii'ran.

AirUluuil'tnn, ■

830,000

3,300,000

Cabul.

Ih-luiM'liiHtmi, -

IfM.OOO

3,000,000

KeUt.

lllnil(Kwtuii, - •

1,200,000

■11,300,000

ralciitta.

Farthor Imlln,

0O-i,000

ai ,000,000

Amarapoura.

Tutnl, - •

i8,ofl»,noo

300,000,000

The European powen having possestions in Asia are
— Russia, occupying the whole of Siberia, partly as a
mineral and tratiing region, and partly as a penal
settlement: Britain, which has acquired the ascen-
(lancv, if not the actual possession, of the most of
Ilindoostan, Ceylon, Assam, Chittogong, various settle-
ments on the Binneso ami Malayan coasts, the valu-
able little island of Sincapore in the Straits of Malacca,
the islet of Hong Kong at tho mouth of the (Janton
river in China, and the rocky peninsula of Aden in
Arabia: France, which owns the sinall districts or
factories of Pondicherry, Villenour, Chaiidernagore,
Gonjain, Carical, Mahtf, kc, on the coasts of Ilin-
doostan : />or(iM^, which still possesses the maritime
districts of Damaun, Diu, Goa, and Marguon : and
Denmark, which, since the British purchase of Seram-
pore in lU4b', has only the small territory and seaport
of Tranquebar in the Camatic.

JVofa,— Tho <l>llowlng dosorlptlvo words aro of froquont occur-
ronco :— In China tho teriiilnation/oo denotes a town of tho flnt
clusii ; tchcou, ono of tho Herond ; hien, ono of tho third ; AOM,
Inko; ho, river; kiang, river; krou, mouth. In Ilindomtan—
abad, dwelling or eity ; jioor, fmre, puram, town ; patam, town ;
dnog, furt ; gur, ghtir, castle ; baxar, nuirket ■ pluco ; cherry,
city; ttagore, Huggur, town; itrai. Inn; eot, colla, fort; tear,
VMrra, region ; ifilii, a country ; giri, mountain ; gherrg, hill ;
ghaut, mountain-pass; ab, auh, water or river; jeel, aliallow
lake ; maha, grcnt ; nU, blue ; diva, dive, taland. In Persia and
Arabia— Jelwl, hlU ; nahr, river ; ras, capo 1 hliiar, fortress ;
mnhtd, mosiiuo ; dfh, vilUige ; hair, castle ; ghcrd, fortress ; koh,
mountain • ]wak ; bottan, Rardon ; tagh, dagh, mountain. In
I'ulestinc— a<n, en, fmintain; baal, temple; bahr, sou or lake;
be(h, house or dwelling ; kirjalh, city; ramah, high ground ; wadg,
valley. In Turkey— <fai7A, tagh, mountain ; koom, desert ; den-
ghiz, dcngii, Inko; thai, river ; jiol, poli, city ; grad, gradt, for-
tress ; ihthr, town ; icrai, palace ; kcHeia, keH$eh, church ; khan.
Inn ; hliiar, castle ; ho!, koi, village ; bazaar, bazar, market ;
etki, old; novi, neo, new; peni, young; bala, upper; buyuck,
great ; jik, kutchuk, little ; (tit, white ; kara, black ; kixil, red.

* Tho superior industry of tho Chinese, as compared with
other Asiatic nattons, is proved by their extensive exportation
of manufactured uiik'los. To those above enumerated we may
odd— alum, white and red lead, brass loaf, sine, glass -beads,
poper-hangings, table and floor mats, Ac. Besides exporting
native productions, China is also an entr(!pM for those uf tlio
a4)aoout countries, and occasionally even for those of Europe,

lacLirtd
o, opium,
ni critp*

b.» for lu

her «nrd
niiuerot.

ydMpotio,
ind putrU

(r«)«dliiRly
; the couii-
ief towni,
ftcoount of
)h the Url-

ittf Townit.

Dbolik.
okln.

urkcntAli.

myrn».

loiva.

'('ticriin.

ubtil.

;<lHt.

'aluiittB.

LinBrupoiiin.

I in Ati» »re
partly M »
M a pon»l
the Mcen-
the inoit of
brious Mttle-
|ts, thevaltt'
of Malucc»,
the Canton
of A(I«n in
districts or
jidemagore,
iti of llin-
inaritimo
rgtion : and
» of 8eram-
and leaport

ijquont occur-
wn of tho flnt
third i AOH.
Ulndocwtan—
fatam, town ;
iluco i eherrn,
fort; Mur,
gherry, hiUi
jtel, Bhallow
Id Persia and
jflr, fortress;
forlrcM ; ta*.
ountain. In
sea or lake ;
round; uudy,
dcsurt; den-
I, grade, for-
hurch ; kAnn,
market |
ipcr; butptck,
kMI, red.

Imparod with
I exportation
ated wo may
Iglua-beada,
he« exporting
] thoao uf tlia
|o( Europe.

KA8T INOII&

Imiia, nindoottan, or the Foiit Indle«,M It li called,
to dietlnfuUh it from the Weit India Iilande, it, at inay
be lecn by the accompanving niapi, an exteniire triaiiuu-
lar-thap«d Unritory, pointing with itt narrow eitreniity

southward to the Indian Ooean. It it nearly oomprt*
hcndoil between the latitiidei uf 8* and 9A* north ; ita
rxtreiiia length from north to lutith it about 1900 ntllti,
and from eait to weit about lAOO ; itt tuperfloial ana

inea«»«i 1,260,000 milei. The northern boundary of
thii exteniiye region it formed by the Himalaya Moun-
tains, 80 called from an Indian word signifying snow —
their peaks, at an elevation of 16,000 feet or thereby,
being perpetually clothed with ice and snows. From
the extoemitiee of this mountain-chain flow two large
riven, which fonn on either side the boundary of

India ; that on the east is called the Burhampooter or
Brahraapoutra,and that on the west the Indus--a river
from whose name the whole country has derived its
present designation. Each of these streams, with its
tributaries, water an immense tract of fertile country,
and aflTord excellent means of internal trade to the
people situated on the banks. From the mouthi of

261

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

theie riTen the coast atretches both wajrg to the louth-
ward, the eastern and western side inclining to the same
point, BO as to meet at Cape Comorin. Beyond this,
the adjacent island of Ceylon extends a little farther,
and reaches to within about 6° of the equator.

This extensive courtry presents, as already stated,
a great rariety of surface, being diTersified in some
places wiih wide sandy deserts; in others with fine
undulating hill countries, well watered and fertile ; a
third portion consists of flat high-lying regions, called
table-lands, which, from their height above the sea, are
cool and temperate ; and a fourth division consists of
immense fertile plains, watered by the large rivers of
the country, and their numerous tributaries. A con-
siderable portion of the low-lying country is of a marshy
shrubby character, called jungle, and unfitted for cul-
tivation. Each of these divisions of India presents an
aspect peculiar to itself, and all of them are distin-
guished by natural productions, both plants and ani-
mals. Besides the Indus on the west, and the Brahma-
poutra on the east, there are other large and important
rivers descending from the outskirts of the Himalaya
Mountains, or fruu ranges of hills called Ghauts, and
descending to the sea both on the east and west coasts.
The principal of these stream » is the Ganges, which,
with its tributaries, drains a large portion of the north-
east division of the country, and enters the sea in the
province of Bengal, along with the conjoined waters of
the Brahmapoutra. The valley or plain of the Ganges,
and the vall&ys of its confluents, foi .1 the fairest and
richest portion of Hindoostan.

Territorial Divisions.

The modem territorial and political subdivisions of
India, though of little practical moment, may thus be
specified: — First, Northkrn Hindoostan, an extensive
and rugged territory, comprehending —

I. The country between tlie 4. Kemaoon.

Sutluj and Jumna. B. Painktiandi.

S. Gnrwal or Serina({ur. 6. Bootan.

3. Sources of the Ganges. 7. Dominions of Xepaul.

Second, Hindoostan Pbopeb, which is the most compre-
hensive division. It stretches across the centre of India,
and obtains the most prominent place in the history of
the old Mohammedan empires of India. It reaches
south to the Nerbudda, where the Deccan commences,
and includes the following provinces: —

1. Bengal.

fi. Agra.

9. Ajmeer.

S. Bahar.

6. Delhi.

10. Moultan.

3. Allahabad.

7. Lahore.

11. Cutch and Ouzcrat.

4. Oude.

8. Cashmere.

12. Malwa.

Third, The Deccan. — This division lies next, in a
southerly direction, to the above, extending from the
Nerbudda river on the nort^., which flows into the sea
on the west coast, to the Kistna, a river flowing into
the sea or Bay of Bengal on the east coast. Between
these rivers lies the Deccan, a much less fertile division
of India than the preceding; Bombay, u small island
on the west coast, belongs to the province of Aurunga-
bad in this diviraon. The Deccan comprehends the
following provinces, a portion of which formed the once
famous Mahratta empire : —

I. Gundwana.

S, Orissa.

3. The Northern Circars.

4. Candcish.
E. Berar.
6. Boeder.

7. Hyderabad.

8. Aurungabod.

9. Bojaporc.

Fourth, India, South op the Kistna. — This division
forms the extreme southerly po.'tion of the Indian pe-
ninsula, and comprehends the provinces of —

1. Canara.

S. Malabar.

S. Cochin.

4. Travancore.

& Balaghaut, osded districts.

6. Mysore.

7. Coimbatoor.

8. Salem, and the Burra.iahal.

9. The Camatic, in which is

situated Madras.

lu addition to the forekioiuK diriiioni aad r
262

mcM,

the large territories of Ava and the Burmese empire,
lying east from the Brahmapoutra, are now attached to
India, besides other conterminous regions.

It is customary to speak of the preceding provinces
and states as British, Tributary, or Protected and Inde-
pendent, but such a distinction is upon the whole
rather nominal than real. British influence now per-
vades the whole region, from the Himalayas to Cape
Comorin on the one hand, and from the Indus *c, the
Ganges on the other; and as for any individual or
separate power which the Protected States can exercise,
they might as well be termed British, while the really
Independent territories, as Scindio, Nepaul, and the
Punjaub, are gradually being reduced under British
sway. How little of Hindoostan, territorially speaking,
does not now acknowledge the supremacy of British
power, may be seen at a glance by referring to any
coloured map of the country.

Modem History-.

What was the original political condition of the vast
territory now composing the British Indian empire, it
would be needless to detail minutely. Like roher por-
tions of Asia, it was early inhabited by c, primitive
people, more or less barbarous, professing difl^erent
pagan religions, and speaking many more difierent
languages. The principal religion, however, was Hin-
dooisra, to which we shall afterwards allude; and it has
been said by some historians that the early Hindoo race
of inhabitants manifested many symptoms of civilisa-
tion, and even a knowledge of .some of the sciences.
However this may have been, the inhabitants generally
were in some measure an industrious, but simple race,
and little inclined to war. Reasoning from what has
occurred in their history, as well as from the informa-
tion communicated regarding them, they seem, from
the earliest times, to have had Utile or no care with
regard to who ruled over them, provided they were
insured in the possession of their ancient religious
usages, and their system of living in small communities,
under a simple^ species of local government. They
were reckless of what sovereign was placed over them,
or to what dynasty they were transfeired, so long as
the internal economy of their village districts remained
the same. This species of political apathy produced
the results which might have been expected. From the
most remote period of which any record is preserved,
the inhabitants of India, including those tribes which
possessed more decided warlike propensities, or who
had the spirit to resist aggression, were subjected to the
government of strangers, who seized upon their terri-
tories, and made them the objects of taxation.

Of the remoter period cf Indian history little is cor-
rectly known ; all that may be said of it is, that both
the Greeks and Romans were supplied with some of
their articles of luxury from Hindoostan, and that for
many centuries this Eastern clime was supposed, by the
ill-informed inhabitants of distant parts of Asia and
Europe, to be the richest and most sumptuous country
on the globe. The tales related of Indian grandeur
appear to have in time excited the avarice and ambi-
tion of Mohammedan or Saracen chiefs. The first of
this barbarous, though intrepid race who mcde a suc-
cessful inroad upon India was Mahmoud, sultan of
Ghuznee, or Aflghanistan, a kingdom on the north-west
of India. Mahmoud commenced his successful expedi-
tions into India about the year 1000, and he continued
them till 1024, making the destruction of pagan idolatry
more the object of his visits than the acquisition of
wealth or power. In this period of twenty-four years
he had subdued a considerable number of the native
princes, and notwithstand'ig his professions, exacted
immense tributes in gold artd every kind of valuable
commodity. A successor of Mahmoud, named Moham-
med, after carrying on war with the Indian princes for
some time, at length, about the year 1193, entered
Hindoostan with an exceedingly large force, and bore
down all opposition. The king of Delhi was slain in
battle, and having advanced to that ancient capital,

EAST INDIES.

!ge empire,
attached to

' provinces
i and Inde-
the whole
!e nowper-
raa to Cape
ndus ♦ ' the
dividual or
an exercise,
e the really
111, and the
ider British
l^ speaking,
r of British
ling to any

n of the vast
in empire, it
ke ether por-
p, primitive
iiig different
ore different
rer, was Hin^
ie;and it has
f Hindoo race
18 of civilisa-
the sciences,
ints generally
simple race,
■om what has
the inforn'.a-
jy aeem, from
no care with
ed they were
iient religious
communities,
iment. They
id over them,
id, so long as
,-icts remained
ithy produced
;ed. From the
is preserved,
tribes which
lities, or who
bjected to the
m their terri-
ition.

little is cor-
, is, that both
[with som'^ of
I, and that for .
yposed, by the
of Asia and
tuous country
lian grandeur
;e and ambi-
The first of
made a suc-
jd, sultan of
ho north-west
essful expedi-
he continued
lagan idolatry
icquisition of
|ity-four years
|of the native
lions, exacted
d of valuable
Lmed Moham-
[an princes for
lll93, entered
irce, and bore
I wai slain in
cient capital,

MoWnmed there left % viceroy to maintain hii autho-
rity. In this manner a Mohammedan dominion was
for the first time established in the heart of India, and
in one of its greatest cities; and thus commenced the
Afghan or Patau sovereigns and their dynasty.

The dynastv so planted continued in existence for
rather more than 300 years, when, in 1525 or 1526, it
was subverted by Baber, who was considered one of
the most adventurous warriors of his time, and who,
like his prototype Mohammed, was of the Moslem
faith. Baber was either descended from a Mogul or
Tartar chief, or in some way, not clearly explained by
historians, connci'ted with a race called Moguls, who
assisted him in his attempts upon India; and from
causes of this nature, the empire which he founded in
Hindoostan has ever since been called the Mogul em-
pire. From the year 1526, a series of Mohammedan
emperors, whose seat of authority was at Delhi, ruled
the largest and finest portions of India. By them the
country was in many places newly subdivided into
provinces, and put under the government of tributary
kings or nabobs, who superseded the Hindoo rajahs or
petty princes. One of the greatest of these Mogul
emperors was Akbar, who flourished between the years
1556 and 1605. By his daring and judicious manage-
ment the central provinces were preserved in complete
tranquillity, and Ouzerat, Bengal, and part of the Dec-
can, were added to his already extensive empire.

While the emperors of India were thus establishing
their power, multifarious schemes were formed in
Europe for getting possession of some of the wealth, if
not some portions of the territory, of Hindoostan. The
commodities of Indian manufacture or produce were
hitherto imported into the European states only by
means of tedious overland journeys, or partly by the
Red Sea, and were endangered in their passage by the
attacks of ferocious Tartar and Turkish tribes. The
discovery of a new and safe road to India thus became
a matter o" very great consequence. A route by sea
round the Cape of Good Hope was at last found by the
Portuguese, who, under the command of Yasco de
Qama, in 1498, landed in Hindoostan, on the coast of
Malabar, where they at once established themselves.
The whole commerce of the East Indies was now in the
hands of the Portuguese for nearly a century — and this
was the golden age of Portugal. Lisbon became the
great depot of Indian spices and other commodities,
greatly to the envy of the Dutch and other nations.
Portugal was united to Spain in 15B0; the Spaniards
oppressed Holland, and caused it to revolt; this revolt
was followed by the capture of the Dutch ships trading
to Lisbon; and this capture compelled the Dutch to
engage in a direct trade to India. The English soon
followed their example. The political and spiriti il
tyranny of the Portuguese in India, as well us the
abuses which they permitted in commerce, gradually
subverted their power, and divested them of respect.
The Dutch and English, therefore, found everything in
that state of division which is favourable to the estab-
lishment of a third party. The Dutch established an
East India Company in 1602, and a prosperous trade
was thereafter carried on. The Dutch adopted quite a
different line of policy from that of the Portuguese in
their transactions with India. They cared nothing
about the religion of the Hindoos, and set up no inqui-
sition to force Christ'anity on those they dealt with:
all they wanted was commercial intercourse, and their
excellent management soon secured them a large share
of the Indian traffic. They possessed themselves of
Batavia, in the island of Java; in 1641 they acquired
Malacca, the capital of the Portuguese East Indies;
they subsequently acquired the Cape of Good Hope for
a settlement; and these colonics were a great assistance
to the intercourse between Europe and India. The
Dutch Bubsequeudy acquired a number of other pos-
sessions in the East; but most of these came afterwards
into the possession of the British.

We now enter upon the history of the rise and pro-
gress of the British power in India. The English

became animated with a desire to open a commercial
intercourse with India as early as the reign of Edward
VI. (1553) ; but their expeditions failed in reaching the
desired country, from their want of geographical know-
ledge: and it was not till the shutting of Lisbon against
the Dutch, that they were so far excited as to persevere
in their maritime attempts till they were successful.
They at length learned which was the true course to
steer f6r India ; whereupon, in 1600, a company of
merchants was formed in London to prosecute the
traffic with the East ; being empowered to do so by a
charter from Queen Elizabeth, which was to last fifteen
years. The first expedition of these adventurers cost
£69,091, and consisted of five ships, the largest of
which was 600, and the smallest 130 tons burthen. The
articles which they took were principally bullion, iron,
tin, broadcloths, cutlery, and glass. This expedition
proved remarkably successful, and led immediately to
a repetition of annual voyages of the same nature.
This early trade was nevertheless considerably ham-
pered by the Portuguese; and it was found necessary
to try to secure the favour of the Mogul emperor. In
1607, therefore. Captain William Hawkins was sent out
by the Company, to endeavour, if possible, to open a
commercial intercourse with the dominions of the
Mogul, Hawkins, after surmounting great difficulties,
placed in his way by the Portuguese, reached the court
of the Mogul emperor Jehangire, son of the famous
Akbar, already mentioned. This visit was unfortu-
nately of no avail, from the pernicious interference of
the Portuguese Jesi'its; and another English mission,
on a greater scale, and from the king, was sent forth
in 1615. This embassy, which was conducted by Sir
Thomas Roe, proved more successful in securing the
favour of the Mogul, but did not lead to any important
results. The affairs of the Company, nevertheless,
continued prosperous, and factories were in many places
planted on the coasts of India, These factories were
warehouses for the reception of native produce, and the
storing of imported goods from England, and were no
doubt of considerable use in the objects of their estab-
lishment. From the real or pretended dread of being
attacked by marauders, the keepers, merchants, and
servants at these places, at length began to strengthen
the defences ; and so, from being mere mercantile
warehouses, the factories shortly partook of the decided
character of armed garrisons.

It does not appear that the native powers of India
took ,ny active measures to prevent this insidious pro-
cesu of planting settlements. The natives were fond of
dealing with foreigners, and the princes were so eaten
up with jealousy of each other, that the British always
contrived to gain the friendship of one by takinf, part
against another, and in the end getting the advantage
of both. Besides, it was not for some time that the
British disclosed any intention of securing the jurisdic-
tion of provinces, or a property in the soil. A watch-
ful hypocrisy led them to yield on all occslons a
reverence towards the political sway of the native
emperors, rajahs, and nabobs. The original East India
Company, with its charters at diiferent times disputed
and renewed, continued throughout the spventeenth
century to carry on a profitable traffic witn the East.
Its factories were extended to Java, Sumatra, Borneo,
the Banda Islands, Celebes, Malacca, Siam, the coasts
of Malabar and Coronianilel. la 1640, the native
authorities gave permission for the building of Fort St
George at Madras; and in 1645, a factory was estab-
lished on the banks of tlie lioogly, a branch of the
Ganges near its mouth, which formed the foundation
of Calcutta. The island of Bombay was also procured
as a settlement in 1664-5, after a struggle with its
Portuguese possessors. The affairs of the Companj
were not, however, in a prosperous state ; and soon
after the Revolution of 16(18, the question of the vali-
dity of the old royal charter was started. The conse-
quence followed of the Company not being able to
perform its obligations, on account of losses occasioned
by wars, infidelity of officers, extravagance, &c.; and

263

CHAMBERS'S INFOttMATlON FOR THE PEOPLE.

parliament in 1698 granted a charter to a new East
India Company, on condition ot a loan of £3,000,000
sterling to the •tate, and which was required to carry
on King William's wars. Hut the great contentions
between the two Companieo soon made it necessary to
unite them, and a union was effected in 1702, when an
act of parliament was passed, establishing the conjoined
association under the title of the United Company of
Merchants trading to the East Indies. Stock was
raised by the sale of shares, and the shareholders to a
certain amount were entitled to elect directors.

The progress of tho Company's settlements in India
was on several occasions about this period caused by
the superior skill of the British in medicine. In 171-^,
an embassy being sent on a commercial commission to
Delhi, it happened that a medical gentleman named
Hamilton, who accompanied the factors, had the good
fortune to cure the Emperor Feroksere of a severe ill-
ness, which could not be overcome by the ignorant
native physicians. In gratitude for this important ser-
vice — though, it is likely, some very valuable presents
from the Company had an equally liberalising efl'ect —
the emperor granted liberty to the Company to pur-
chase in Bengal thirty-seven townships iu addition to
that of Calcutta; he also conferred upon them some
important commercial privileges, which soon rendered
Calcutta a flourishing settlement. The charter of the
East India Company was from time to time renewed
during the eighteenth century, though (but not with-
out great difficulty) against a powerful opposition. But
loano to government carried them always through these
embarrassments. In 1744 they advanced jC 1,000.000
at 3 per cent., in consideration of an extension of their
privileges till 17110. Hitherto we have seen this com-
pany of English merchants acting only for the avowed
object of commercial intercourse with India; we now
enter upon a new page in their history, and show the
origin of their political power.

The East India Company assumed the qualifications
of a military and political power in the year 1741). But
their advarrcs towards territorial dominion were re-
tarded by a rival, which gave them no small trouble.
This competitor r/as France, which had in the mean-
time hastened to share in the commerce and spoils of
India. In I7iii, a French battalion hud destroyed the
army of the nabob of the Caniatic, and soon alter the
French officers succeeded in disciplining Indian troops
according to the European method. The inferiority
of the native Indian troojis opposed to European sol-
diers, and the facility of instructing Indian snldicrs,
known by the name of Sepoi/s, in the European tactics,
was thus proved. Ambition and avarice, political and
m>?rcantile cunning, could now act on a lavj,'er scale;
an 1 the independence of the Indian princes was gone
wlenever this tradiiiju' Company, which wns already
<;ncToaching upon all the rights both of the rulers and
the people of these countries, should establish a per-
manent military force. Thus far the military organisa-
tion of the Company had been merely on the defensive;
it now became able to act offensively ; and the eTitirc
difference of the European and Indian notions of law
could never fail to furnish opportunities to put this
new means of pov;er into action. The rights of succes-
sion, and all the rights of princes, subjects, and fami-
lies, were so much disputed on the different princi])les
of the Indian, Mohammedan, and British laws, that
the Company, which often interfered as arbitrator,
easily succeeded in extending their lc!;al jurisdiction.
If called to account in England for ai.y of its under-
takin^'H, it was easy to uphold the corrcctnuss of its
conduct, politically, on the jjround of self-defence, which,
at the distance of several thousand miles, could not be
called in question ; and in legal matters, by taking
mlvantagc of the impenetrable labyrinth of the law.
Edmund Burke, who (experienced, in the case of Warren
Hastings, the head of the ronii)aiiy's afiiiirs in the East,
this impregnability of the association, accused thmn
justly ' of having sohl cvei-y monarch, prince, and state
in Iniiia, broken every contract, and ruined every state
264

who had trusted them.' In 1740, the robberies of the
Company began with the protection of the pretender of
Tanjore, a fine province of the Ci-matic. Under i)re-
tmce of illegitimacy, the nabob of this district was
dri-en out for the purpose of obtaining some cessions
of ' erritory, and then restored on making further con-
ce&.uons. The rapid progress of the Company in the
art of extending their possessions, appears from their
treaties with Surajee - Dowlah, the nabob of Bengal,
whom they contrived to depose in 1757, when large and
rich provinces were the reward of their faithless policy.
The French, who, in a similar manner, had acquired
considerable territorial possessions in the Camatic, now
came into collision with the British merchants, and a
hot war was carried on in India between these con-
tending Europeans. The indecency of this conflict, as
to which party should be the greatest robber, seems to
have shamed both France and England, and commis-
sioners were mutually sent to India to reconcile the
differences which existed, as well as to check the ac-
quisition of territory either by the English or French
Companies. As a matter of course, this affectation of
justice ended in nothing. After the commissioners had
agreed that each should restore its acquired territories,
and after a ' solemn ' treaty to that etfect had been ar-
ranged, hostilities commenced as before. It would bo
needless to recount the particulars of this struggle for
power; it will suffice to state that the French ultimately
were deprived by the British of their possessions.

By the defeat of the French forces iu 17(>1, the Bri-
tish were left at liberty to pursue their schemes on
India, beinc in no small degree favoured by the un-
happy political condition of the Mogul empire. This
large empire came under the rule of Aurungzebe, a
descendant of Akbar, in IG51t, and his reign lasted till
his death in 1 707. Under this celebrated Mohammedan
emperor, the empire of the Moguls came to the height
of its glory, and attained its largest extent. After
Aurungzebe had added to it the kingdoms of the Deccan,
it included nearly the whole peninsula of Hindoostan,
with the neighbouring regions of Cabool and Assam. The
revenues extorted from this populous and wealthy ter-
ritory amounted to X32,000,000 sterling. During the
reign of Aunangzebe, it was attacked by the Persians
under the bold Prince Nadir, and also by a growing
nation called Mahrattas, whose kingdom comprehended
large portions of the provinces of Malwa, Candeish,
Aurungabad, and Bejaporo, in the Deccan. By Nadir,
and his successor, Ahmed jVbdallah, the Mogul empire,
after the death of Aurungzebe, was almost entirely sub-
verted to the character of a tributary to the Persians.
Under these circumstances, there was scarcely a native
power that did not consider itself entitled to trample
on the feeble authority of the throne of the Mogul;
and between the Affghans, whose kingdom lay to the
north-west, and the Mahrattas, the empire was dis-
tracted, and made the object of greedy contest. The
Alf^hans were at length victorious over their enemy;
and in I'/ill they placed a descendant of the old
dynasty on the throne, and in the possession of the
empty, but still venerated title of Great Mogul, to
be the tool or the captive of the first daring power
which should seize the capital.

From this period the dignity of the empire was at an
end, and a favourable opportunity was offered to the
various dependent princes to throw otl' their allegiance,
as well as to enterprising chiefs to take advantage of
the unsettled stale of things, and establish new king-
ilonis for themselves. In this state of general revolu-
tion, a bold Mohammedan adventurer arose from an
obscure rank, named Hyder Ali, who, by summoning
round him bold and predatory bands, and waging war
with considerable address, established his power as a
sovereign in the Mysore, a territory forming one of the
most remarkable of those t!ovHted table-lands that
diversify the southern provinces. Hyder was succeeded
in 1 71)2 by his son Tippoo, a person eiiually bold, though
less prudent and fortunate. Against both these powerful
rulers the British for a number of years witged war with

EAST INDIES.

168 of the
'tender of
iider pre-
strict wfts
e cesBiotis
rthcr coii-
ny in the
roni their
if Bengal,
1 large and
ess policy.
[ acquired
natic, now
its, and a
these con-
conflict, as
r, seems to
d commis-
ioncile the
ck the ac-
or French
'ectation of
Bioners had
territories,
id been ar-
t would bo
itruggle for
ultimately
ions.

II, the Dri-
schemes on
by the un-
ipire. This
rungzebe, a
1 lasted till
)hammedan
) the height
,ent. Aiter
theDcccan,
Hindoostan,
Assam. The
althy tei-
During the
lie Persians
a growing
iprehended
Candeish,
lly Nadir,
gul empire,
ntirely sub-
Persians,
lly a native
to trample
;he Mogul;
lay to the
was dis-
itest. The
eir enemy;
the old
lion of the
Mogul, to
ring power

I was at an
red to the
allegiance,
vantage of

new king-

•al rcvolii-

|o from an

immoning
kraging war

ower as a
[one of the
lands that

I succeeded
|ld, though

■powerful

II war with

Tarious mKeose. In 1702, Seringapatain, the capital of
the MyiOHt, was besieged by the Marquis CornwuUis,
with a strong British army, and after some show of re-
sistance, Tippoo was fain to oHcr terms of surrender.
Jle agreed to give up half of liis dominions, and pay
£13,500,000 in bullion. For the fulfilment of the treaty,
he was under the necessity of giving up two of his sons
ns hostages. Having fulfilled his engagement, these
young princes were returned in 17!)4; but after this he
again commenced hostilities and in 1799 the British
forces, under General Baird, once more attacked, and
now captured, Seringapatam. In the general slaughter
which occurred in entering this strongly-fortified place,
Tippoo was shot, and his body was afterwards i'ound
among a heap of the slain. Thus tenninated a dynasty
which, though short, and limited in respect of territo-
rial dominion, was undoubtedly the moat vigorous and
best organised of any that had sprung out of the wreck
of the Mogul empire. The principal war in which the
East India Company was engaged after this successful
contest was that with the Pindarees, roving tribes of
Mahrattas, who, without any territory, carried on pre-
datory warfare against all whom they could rob with
impunity. The war with the Pindarees was one of
great difiiculty, and it cost the British a number of
years before they finally quelled them. The Pindaree
war terminated in 1817, and it was followed by a con-
test betwixt the British and the Birman empire, which
was successfully closed in 1 826, and by which the Com-
pany gained a considerable territory along the Bay of
Bengal, east of the Brahmapoutra river. By the fore-
going, and other less conspicuous contests with native
princes, among which may be reckoned the war against
the Nepaulese in 1814, and also by means of purchases,
negotiations, and voluntary or involuntary renditions of
territory, including the capture, cession by treaty, or
purchase of the French and Dutch settlements, the
British power was at length established as supreme
over nearly the whole of India.

Hitherto the Company have governed their Indian
territories by means of the presidencies of Calcutta,
Madras, and Bombay, each of these places being the
headquarters of a local military and civil government.
In future there will be another presidency, that of Agra,
a place of note in the interior. The whole aio under
the supreme control of a governor-general ajjpointed
by the British court; these governors-general seldom
retain their situations above a few years. Mr Pitt, in
1784, passed an act establishing a Board of Control,
composed of six privy-council iors, to superintend the
territorial concerns of the Company, which chork is
still continued, and reappointed under the act of 1 iVA'S.
To retain possession of so large a territory as Tndia,
the Company require to keep up a numerous and well-
appointed armed force, which is composed cliipO t
natives or sepoys, with British oflicers, riul partly of
troops raised in Cireat Britain. 'I'he Con.pany fLirthe:
employ a number of Queen's regiments, who have double
pay allowed them. The army maintained in India
consisted, in 18il7, of 2G,.')82 British, 157,7j;1 native,
and 111,500 contingent or subsidiary native — making
an aggregate force of 295,840 men I The annual ex-
pense of the Anglo-Indian army is little short of
£10,000,000. In 1830, according to Reports laitl before
Parliament, it was £.9,374,000; and, since then, a very
considerable increase has taken place, partly on account
of the increasing extent of territory, and partly on
account of the wars in Sinde, Atfghanistan, and the
Punjaub. Some idea of the nature and composition of
this immense force may be formed from the following
items of expenditure in the year above-named : — En-
gineer corps, £83,874 ; artillery, £U0(i,4G3 ; cavalry,
£1,070,834; infantry, £4,124,079; statf, £481,490;
medical stalf, £122,490; pioneers, £74,511 ; commis-
sariat, £((14,327; sundries, £2,178,887. The army,
native and Europef.n, is distributed throughout the

Tiie relations which subsist betwixt the Company
and the tributary and dependent states may thus bo
described : — The Company undertake the defence of
the dependent prince's territories against all enemies,
domestic or foreign. lie is bound, on the other hand,
to enter into no alliances with other sovereigns or states
without the Company's consent; and he pays them a
certain annual subsidy out of his revenues for their
protection, while he generally keeps up an army at the
same time for the maintenance of internal tranquillity.
In some cases, instead of paying a subsidy, the prince
cedes a portion of his territories, of which the Company
draw the entire taxes. The Company keep a resident
at the prince's court, who is entitled to demand an
audience at any time; and by this agent the Company
do in fact interfere pretty regularly in the internal
concerns of the state, particularly in settling the suc-
cession to the throne. The princes are in reality mere
viceroys, or rather tax - collectors for the Company ;
and when in any state gross mismanagement or breach
of engagement repeatedly occurs, these pageants are
dethroned and pensioned oft; and the Company take the
government of the country into their own hands. The
Company's protection is often found to shelter internal
misgovernment ; for the princo, being secured by the
British army against the resentment of his own sub-
jects, is tempted to indulge the more freely in extor-
tion and oppression.

BEVE.NUE SYSTEM OF INDIA.

To sustain not only the above military force, but the
civil management of India, a revenue of £18,000,000
requires to be levied. About two -thirds of this large
sum is derived from a tax on land ; and as the mode
of collecting, imposing, and administering it, enters
deeply into the system of Indian policy, and has a
powerful influence on the social condition of the
people, wo shall here attempt its explanation.

Under the old Mogul empire, the sovereign was
considered the universal proprietor of the soil; but the
ryots, or cultivators, or actual owners, were held to
have a perpetual right of occupancy, so long as they
paid the fixed annual tribute or rent demanded by the
sovereign. The rent was fixed at a third, and some-
thiies at a half, of the value of the produce, and the
functionaries appointed to ascertain the amount leviable,
and to collect it, were called zemindars. In 1793, Lord
C' • ■ -v 'liis, governor-general, with a view to establish
a \ -r system for all parties, changed the zemindars
fron' the character of hereditary tax-collectors to that
of proprietors of the soil, though etill accountable to
government for the rent. This created a vast deal of
.iiisory at tie time; thousands of poor ryots wore
ejected from their ancient possessions; but ultimately
the country at large was benefited. It was arranged
that the sum payabli; by the ryot for several years
should be iixeti i.s the permanent rent; one-tenth of
this was allowed us the zemindar's share, and tho other
nine-tenths the proiiortion payable to the government
or Company. The rent paid to the Company being
fixed, great quantities of land which had been ' con-
cealed '—that is, left cut of the rough and partial returns
formerly made, and whioli bad lain in a wild state, or
in pasture — were now put under crop. 'J'lie practice is,
to allow the ryot to occupy waste lands rent-free for
three years, and to jharge only a moderate rent for a
few years niorp. In this way a considerable cxM'nsion
of cultivation has takco place; and some of the zei»ki-
dars have acquired wealth. From their iinprovid«^nt
habits, however, such wealth seldom lasts more than one
generation ; and no progress has been m.tdo towardx the
institution of a rural aristocracy. The Company have
begun very recently to retnvco their steps. When
zemindiiries fall into their hands, as they are alway*
doing from time to time, by the inability of the holders
to fulfil their cngagemonts, the Company replace the

country, at appointed stations, foiining a chain of mili- 1 ryots as neaily ns they are ablu in their original situa-
tary posts, and keeping up a continual communication tion, allowing them to hold their lands under payment
with tho seats of the various presidencies. i of a rem which remains! fixed, cither permanently or

2(J5

OHAMBBRS'S INFORMATION FOB THE PEOPLC.

for ft period of jtuu. The ComiMUij in tbii caie come
in the room of the zemindar, and collect the renta in
detail from the ryoti hj their agents.

Thii system of * zemindary settlement ' pre v.- lis gene-
rallj in Bcnj^al, Bahar, Orissa, and Benares. It has
also been tried on a small scal<> in the Madras presidency,
but with indifferent succeaa; but in a modified form it
has long existed in some parts of Sou'.hem India, where
hereditary chiefs, called pph/gars, occupy a similar
•ituation to that of the zemindars . . Bengal.

There are other two modes of collecting the rent or
la.jd-taz (for it may rcoelTC either name); the Ryot-
f"tr, and the Mouzawar : —

The ryotwar was first extensively introduced by the
late excellent Sir Thomas Munro, when governor ->{
Madras in 1802. In this system the government col-
lecte the rent directly irom the ryots, without the inter-
vention of zemindars. An actual survey was made,
with great labour and expense, of the lauds of the vil-
lages, in which it was attempted to fix tho extent and
Tftl'"- lot ".ercly of every occupancy, but of every field.
'I - .ecokds iihowed the whole sum which the village
hail paid in former years: and from this, with the opi-
nion': ,f practiced ar^essors, checked and guided by the
ad wee cf the village polail .nd cumum (the headsman
and )>ccnuntant\ an eatir.iatt was formed of the gross
prodc 45 pp- ccuc. oi nMch was assumed as the
rei)'., A e sum vhus niioertained was fixed la the maxi-
mum V. ifii fVii, tenant should be called op to pay.
The '•"iii. is taken from the ryots in monthly pi yments,
and \.'<7 summary means are used to extort it. The
system .vas extremely unpopular a'j its intrc: action,
and occasioned great distress; but this was attributed
to the excessive amount of the tax, rather than to
defects in its imposition. The reader should be told
that the perquisites of the potail, cumum. Brahmin,
astrologer, schoolmaster, and a long train of other vil-
lage functionaries, arc supposed to absorb 10 per cent.
of the ryot's crop, bo that the 45 per cent, which
government took in a good year was, and was meant
to be, one-half of the clear produce after this deduction
was made. In consequence of the outcry against the
tax, considerable abatements were made; ant? the ryot-
war system remains in operation in a considerable
portion of Madras presidency at thie time, W'th, we
believe, comparatively few complaints.

The third system is the Mouzawar, cr ' village settle-
ment.' A viil:.^e in India does not mean a collec-
tion of houses at a partic, .- spot, but corresponds
to rhat is called a township in .Americn. 'It is a
tract of country,' says Mr liamiKun, * comprising some
thousands of acres of arable and v ute land; politi-
cally viewed, it resembles a corporation or township.
Its proper establishment of officers and servants con-
sists of the following descriptions: — The potail, or
head inhabitant, who has the general supijrintendence
of the affairs of t; e village, settles the disputes of
the inhabitants, attends to the police, and performs
the important duty of collecting the revenues within
hjs village — a duty "^hich his personal influence,
and minutp ai'quaintance witL the situation and con-
cerns of the people, render him best qualified to dis-
charge: the curni?m, who keeps the accounts of culti-
vation, and registers everything r->iir>ected with it : the
fo/ii'ar (constable), or to<i(! (watch'ian); the J'\*yofthe
former appearing to consist in gai.'.iiii; information of
crimes and offences, i^nd in esci.rting and protecting
pei-sons travelling from on* village to another ; the
province of the 'atter ii;.pearing to be more inime-
diate'y coi.'fined to the village, consisting, among other
duties, in guarding thr> crops, and assisting in mea-
suring them : the boundary mnn, who preserves the
limits 01 the villa.fl;e, or gives eviilence concerning them
in rases of dispute : the supermtciident of the tankt
and water-coumes, who distributes the water therefrom
tor thr purposes of agriculture : the Jirohmin, who per-
forms the viDsge worship: the schoolmaster, who is seen
tetnohuig th^^ children in the villages to reaid i^.nd write
in the su&d . the calendar Brahmin, or Mtrologer, who
2W

proclaims the lucky or unpropitioui periods for towing
and thrashing : the smith and carpenter, who manu-
facture the implements of agriculture, and build the
dwelling of the ryot: the potman, or jiotter: the fisher-
man; the barber; the cowkeeper, who looks after the
cattle ; the doctor ; the dancing-girl, who attends at
rejoicings; the musician, and the poet. These officers
and servants generally constitute the establishment of
a village; but in some parts of the country it is of less
extent, some of the duties and functions above described
being united in the same person ; in others, it exceeds
the number of individi'.als which have been described.
Under this simple form of municipal government, the
inhabitants of the country have li>'ed from time imme-
morial. The boundaries of the villages have been but
seldom altered ; and though the villages themselves
have been sometimes injured, and even desolated, by
war, famine, or disease: the same name, tha same limits,
and even the same families, have continued for ages.
The inhabitants give themselves no trouble about the
breaking up and division of kingdoms; while the village
remains entire, they care not to what power it is trai.u-
ferred, or to what sovereign it devolves; its internal
economy remains unchanged ; the potail is still the
head inhabitant, and still acts as the potty judge And
magistrate, and collector or renter of the village.'

It will be ui..'"rbt(iod that under the zemindary set-
tlement the govemii..:it transacts with one individual
for an extensive district, probably as large as a county;
under the mouzawar or village settlement, it transacts
with the chief person of the village for the whole com-
munity; and under the ryotwar settlement, it *^ransact8
with each individual cultivator. It may be proper to
add, that in India a ryot seldom holds more land than
he and his family are able to cultivate, and that there
are few farm-servants in our sense of the word.

Of the three modes of settlement, it may be stated
thf>t the zemindary plan has yielded the largest re-
venue ; the method of 'village settlement' does not
cause much more trouble to the government, and is
better liked by the cultivators; the ryotwar is the most
expensive and troublesome, and has been the least
productive of revenue; but it would be the most equit-
able and ]no8t advantageous to the people at large, if
the ends of justice were not defeated by the frauds of
the native functionaries intrusted with its details, and
whose corruption is almost universal.

Tha re' enuo derivable from land by these various
processes of exaction amounts, as has been said, to two-
thirds of the whole revenue of the Company, or the sum
of £1 '2,000,000. The next greatest head of revenue is
the receipt from native princes, or from ceded and
conquered countries, and which averages in amount
from .£6,000,000 to £7,000,000.

The Coinnany have hitherto gained £1,000,000 ster-
liiif,' per an.ium by the monopoly of opium. They have
offered a prico annuaUy, which has been fixed at the
lowest rate that will remunerate the producer; and
ryots, whose lands have been suited to the cultivation,
entered into enj^agements to deliver certain quantities.
About two-thirds of the opium used to bo smuggled into
China, until tho Chinese stopped the iniportation; and
one-third was sent to the eastern isles, Java, Sumatra,
&c. Salt has also been an article of valuable taxation.
It has been manufactured on the coast of the Bay of
Bengal exclusively for the Company. Before it reaches
the consumer, its price is enhanced five, eight, or ten
fold. The Company have realised a gross revenue of
£2,000,000 per annum from this '.nonopoly.

The customs dra^vn by the Company consist partly
of taxes collected at the seaports on foreign goods
brought in, and partly of transit duties, levied on goods
passing through the country. There are provincial
duties, paid in passing from one presidency to another;
town duties, on certain articles at the gates of towns;
and m.irket duties, levied at the market stations where
fairs MO held. To collect thece taics, and guaid against
contraband trade, there Jirc customhouses, called cho-
/(ien, ttt every cou«iderable village. In the single ilistrict

■ for lowing
who manu-
d build the
■: the fiiher-
ks after the
> attends at
'hese oificen
)lithinent of
' it ia of leM
)ve described
g, it exceeds
en described,
eminent, the

time imme-
aye been but
8 themselves
desolated, by
! same limits,
[led for ages.
)le about the
ile the village
er it is trai.u-
; its internal
1 is still the
tty judge and
tillage.'
BHiindary set-
ne individual
) as a county;
t, it transacts
»e whole cora-
»t, it *Tansacts
I be proper to
ore land than
md that there
word.

may be stated
he largest re-
ent' does not
iment, and is
ar ia the most
een the least
le most equit-
le at large, if

the frauds of
9 details, and

these various

said, to two-

y, or the sura

lof revenue is

ceded and

in amount

loOO.OOO ster-

They have

J fixed at the

loducci" ; and

: cultivation,

In quantities.

luuggled into

|rtation; and

^a, Sumatra,

ble taxation.

' the Bay of

Ire it reachea

^sight, or ten

revenue of

Insist partly

Ireign gpodi

[ed m goods

provincial

I to another;

U of towns ;

itions v.'hcre

La;d against

[called cho-

bgie district

EAST INDIEiS.

of Madura, with a million of souls, in the Madras pre-
sidency, there arc twenty -one customhouses, each of
which has four or five subordinate establishments; and
at these stations, even when no duties are exigible, fees
are charged by the native officers for the trouble of
examination, , nd a good deal of delay is caused in the
tranamiasiou of merchandise. These taxes are sources
of annoyance and occasional extortion to the trading
classes. They produce a gross sum of £1,800,000, which
is reduced to £1,600,000 by the charges of collection,
&c. We believe that a considerable portion of the reve-
nue derived from these duties on trr-ffo is laid out by
the Company in the construction of roads and bridgeii,
where improvements of this kind are moat wantt:1.

In 1843-4, the annual revenue was £17,01o,973, but
this large sum did not cover the expenditure, includ-
ing intereei, on the dsbt due by the Company, which
now amounts to about £40,000,000 — the artual defi-
ciency being £772,322. As India, by the taxes which
it contributes to the Company, clears the cost of its
own protection and all its other expenses, it may be
considered as the only foreign possession of Britain
whose connection is not a cause of loss to the mother
country. By means of its vast import trade, India
forms one of the best customers for British manufac-
tures, and is therefore a source of wealth to the Ignited
Kingdom. [For particulars of export and import, see
Resources of British Empire, No. 62.]

As may be generally known, an act of parliament
was passed in the year 1813, permitting the free trad-
ing of British subjects with India, reserving the com-
merce of China to the Company; the territorial and
commercial branches were separated, as well as all
accounts connected with them ; and the sovereign was
empowered to create a bishop of India, and three arch-
deacons, to be paid by the Company. This act, which was
in force till the 22d day of April 1834, did not aiford
perfect freedom of trade to India, yet it led towards
that desirable result, and greatly increased the com-
merce with the East. By the act 3d and 4th Will. IV.
cap. 85, passed in August 1833, entitled ' Ar\ act for
etiecting an arrangement with the East India Comp.niy,
and for the better government of his Majesty's Indian
territories, till the 30th day of April 1 854,' the Com-
pany were deprived of the exclusive right of trading
with China, and ordained to close the whole of their
commercial business, and make sale of their merchan-
dise, stores, and efl^ects, so far as regarded commercial
assets. It Avaa further ordained that the whole debts
of the Company should be chargeable upon the revenues
of their Indian territories, but leaving a yearly divi-
dend of 10 per cent, to be retained by the Company;
thia dividend to be redeemable by parliament. The
Company to pay into the Bank of England £2,000,000
annually, till the sum of £12,000,000 is accumulated,
as a security fund to the govemnient. The other prin-
cipal provisions were — A board of commissioners, to ho
appointed by the king, to superintend affairs ot India;
Bengal presidency to be divided into two presidencies
— Fort-William (Calcutta) and Agra; the whole govern-
ment, civil and military, of India, to be vested in a
governor-general and councillors.

The 8l8t \.lause is in these terms: — 'And be it
enacted. That it shall be lawful fdi any natural-born
subject of his majesty to proceed by sea to any port or
place having a customhouse establishiiipnt within the
said territcries, and to reside thereat, ur to proceed to
and reside in, Oi' pass through, any part of such of tlie
said territories as were under the government of the
said Company on the Ist day of January 1800, and in
any part of the countries ceded by the nabob of tlie
Carnatic, of ilie province of Cattack, and of the settle-
ments of Singapore and Malacca, without any license
whatever; provided that all subjects of his majesty,
not natives of the aaid territories, shall, on tJieir arrt vfil
in any port of the said territories, from any port or
wlace not within the said territories, make known in
writing their names, places of destination, and objects
of pursuit in luJia, to the chief officer of the customs,

or other officer authorised for that purpoie, at luch
port or place af aforesaid.' Clauae 86 permits his
majesty's natural -bom subjects to purchase lands in
India : 87 enacts that no native of India, or natural-
bom subject of his majesty, shall, by reason only of his
religion, place of birth, descent, colour, be disabled from
holding any place, office, or employment under the
Company : 112 enacts that the island of St Helena be
placed under his majesty's govemment.

By this act !t will bo perceived that aeveral very
important pv/visions are made for the benefit both of
Hindoostuu and Great Britain. India ia henceforth
open to vjje settlement of British euugrants; trade may
be carried on freely with either India or China; and
Indo-Britons, Hindoos, or other nativea, are now placed
on a level us to political, military, or civil distinctions,
with VnglifKimen. It is stipulated that the governor-
general in council is empowered to legislate for India,
and for all persons, whether British or native, foreigners
or others: if the laws thus made by the governor-
general are disallowed by the authorities in England,
they shall be annulled by the governor- general. In
virtue of these arrangements, it is evident that India,
with all its social improvements, retains very much of
the character of a despotically-governed country ; no part
of the population having any right to interfer*' in the
legislation or executive. To enlightened foreigners this
may prove an inconvenience; but in the extraordinary
condition of the whole Indian territory, a more liberal
policy would most likely be unsuitable, if not injurioua.
As it is, England may expect to derive very great ad-
vantages from the policy pursued. To use the words of
Dr Wallich, superintendent of the Company's botanic
gardens at Calcutta — ' The Company's territories in
India are productive of every article which can conduce
to the happiness of men ; and it only requires skill, and
ingenuity, and encouragement, both to the natives and
Europeans in India, to select everything that can pos-
sibly be desired.' As the Indian population posse^ts a
taste for British manufactures, a reciprocal benefit vrill
be the result of every increase of intercourse.

NATIVE POPULATION — HINDOOS,

The bulk of the population of India is composed of
Hindoos, the primitive inhabitants of the country, and
forming one of the most ancient nations in the world.
This race was distinguished for their humanity, gentifc-
ness, industry, and were polished by 1 tters and arts,
at a time when ni'^st of their Asiatic neighbours were
yet only in the lirst stages of civilisation. This remark-
able people have preserved their national character
for thousands of years, even under the dominion of
foreigners, and have retained to the present day their
language, their written characters, their local govem-
ment, religion, manrers, customs, and habits of life.
The Hindoos are in general of a brownish-yellow com-
plexion, but the higher and richer classes are almost
as white as Europeans. They are somewhat above ''he
middle height, well proportioned, and very flexible and
dexterous. Temperance, frugality, hospitality, and
obliging manners, are the favourable traits in their
character; but they are now reproached with indolence
and avarice. With proper discipline, they form excel-
lent soldiers and faithful servants of the Company.
They posset's great nutur..l talents, but are at present
dejirived of opportunities for their development. They
practise agriculture, breeding of cattle, fishing, hunting,
and mining, and are largely engaged in manufactures,
omnmeid. und navigation. They manufacture cloths
of ffri'nl ■ Ml i. ty and value, particularly cotton and silk,
aiiiHiii^ nliich are the finest muslins and shawls, mats,
cordovan le.ither, &c. and are inimitable in dyeing.
In the arts of music and singing they are backward,
but in diHH-i g, statuary, and architecture, they arc
Miiiio advanced. They aro acquainted with arithmetic,
iistidnomy, and chronology, and are fond of poetry.

The most extraorlinary peculiarity in the Hindoos
is their division into caslen, or perfectly distiiut order*
o£ socitity, which hove csibted from the remotest times.

207

CHAMBERS'S INrORMATlON ^B. THE PEOPLfi.

There are four castes, and it is strictly enjoined by the
Jliudoo religion that no transition from ono to another
shall take place: no connection between them l>v mar-
riage or any other way is allowed, and no individual of
one class can assume the habits or en;;a^e in the occu-
pations of another. The distinction is complete in
every sense, hereditary und personal; all the privileges
or disabilities are inherited; no one is permitted to
become what he is destined to be by his natural abili-
ties, but is obliged to become only what his birth per-
mits, or to remain what it condemns him to be. The
slightest transgression o<' the3« laws is punished with
loss of caste, and sometimes, in particular cases, with
death. Kven the difference of food is precisely marked
out. The three higher castes are prohibite(l entirely
the use of flesh; the fourth is allowed all kinds except
beef; all others are outcasts, and may eat what they
please. Thus the lower the rank of the Hindoo, the
less he is restricted in the matter of meat and drink;
but, on the other hand, the burdensome restrictions
increase with tuC inferiority of rank.

The first, or most noble caste of the Hindoos, are
denominated Brahmins ; tlicy are priests, scliolars,
teacherii. lawyers, and state officera, and are required
to b .i;h: 'US, learned, peaceable, just, and self-deny-
ing. D'o second order is the Kyetra, who arc kings
and warriom; and they are required to have a thirst
for ",1c ", < 3 die rather than retreat, and to be generous
*i ci>r*'i' 8. They preserve the ancient name of Rajah-
pocis, by way of distinction, in their old hereditary
I'r.iiiiu.pns. The third order, which is called Bhysya,
I ' > 'Iaa, are husbandmen and Tnerchants. The fourth
: ,,.]te is that of the Soodras, who are labourers, and
viiey rur ?r<ioined to serve with patience and fidelity. A
lower ,' . . if it can be called such, are the I'arias —
thor- I'niiappy beings who have lost their station in the
noble orders, and who are obliged to do whatever no
one else can do without pollution. They are not only
reckoned unclean themselves, but they render unclean
everything they touch. They are deprived of all civil
privileges, and stigmatised by particular laws, regulat-
ing their mode of life, their houses, and their furniture;
thoy are not allowed to enter the temples of the other
orders, but must worship by themselves. Their houses
iii-e miserable hovels, distant from cities and villages.

The Urahmins, who are not legitimately entitled to
possess property, and who must live upon the bounty
of others for their support, cherish in the people the
most debasing superstitions, and exact from them the
most profound veneration. Instead of being holy,
harmless, and undefiled, tliey are vicious, tyrannical,
avaricious, and to the last degree impure. This in-
famous aristocracy is the curse of India, and jiresents
a barrier tn the attempts which have been made to
meliorate the condition of tiie inferior orders. We
believe the Kyetra and Bhysya castes are nearly ex-
tinct, and that the Hindoo nation is now composed
principally of Brahmins and Soodras, with their sub-
divisions. These subdiv isiotis are iIlnumera^'i••; — Every
trade, every peculiar department of serviL ^ has its
class, wherefore the retinue of servants to bo kept is
very large ; for the man who carries in your water
cannot wait at table, nor the man who cooks a dinner
serve it up, nor tlie servant who waits at table sweep
the n^om ; and the same kind of classification goes on
through all the pursuits of lifo. In a number of in-
stances. Brahmins have become Bohiiors in the service
of tlie Kast India Company, but without engaging in
taenial employments-, and they still claim precedence
even of V'.iigs i'l point of etiquette. This rigorous
clasp' fication of the Hindoos undoubtedly presents un
obstacle to the advancement of Christianity, which,
though hardly bought of by the liritish at home, ia
next to insurni mutable, and will retard proselytism
for an almost in^ efinito i)erioJ.

From recent i ivestigations, it a])pear8 that the fore-
going rigorous cli ssification of the ilindoos is much less
an obstacle to improvement in mf-nners than was for-
merly supposed. It would seem tha« the classification
2C8

is more theoretic than practical. The altered ftat« of
society has obliged members of the aristocratic castes to
engage in divers employments or trades not permitted
by their religion; but to accomplish this object, variouH
subterfuges and self-deceptions are practised. Besides,
there have arisen a prodigious variety of subdivision!
br the intermixture of castes; aud the employments
allowed to these mixed or impure castes may be said
to be every description of handicraft and occupation for
which the wants of human society have created a de-
mand. In point of fact, we are told by the best authority,
that men of all castes may be seen working together in
one hatuiicraft employment. A kind cf purity cf caste
is perhaps, nevertheless, kept up by the members of
different castes not eating with each other, or not
eating forbidden things. It is related that purity of
caste is sustained by means of clubs or lodges scattered
throughout Hindoostan, and existing in considerable
force in every largo town; yet it seems that excom-
munication from these fraternities is, upon the whole,
unable to prevent the breaking down of ancient habits,
or to subdue the disposition to imitate the English in
the arts of civilised life. The Hindoo races are indeed
described as now exceedingly anxious for improvement;
and it is rational to expect that through the means of
schools for education, aii'i w conciliatory behaviour on
the part of their Briti: h neighbours, they will attain
no small degree of culli^ation,

HINDOO RKMGION AND UNOrAOE,

The religious belief of the Hinduot, is called Brah-
minism, and is founded on a most extensive collection
of sacred records, of which the l>rahmi«is are allowed
to be the sole expounders. ' These sacred writings,'
says Mr Stntham, in Uis ' Indian Ueeollections,' 'are
of two kinds — the Vedas and Shastres. The former
ii>ay be termed their Scriptures, the latter expositions
of thcM. Beass Muni — that is, Beass the Inspired, a
prophet who lived in the reign of Judistheer, on the
banks of the Jumna, near the present city of Delhi,
collected all the detached pieces which form the Vedas,
from all parts of India, and gave them their present
form and arrangement. They are divided into four
books, all written in the Sanscrit. The first book is
called Rug Veda, which signifies the Science of Divina-
tion, concerning which it principally treats. The second
is distinguished by the title of Sheham, which signifies
Piety or Devotion, and i .is uook treats of religious and
moral duties. The third is the Judger Veda, which, as
the word impliej, includes the wholo science of Reli-
gious Rites and Ccronionies. The fourth is denomi-
nated Obater Bah: iw the Sanscrit, abater signifies the
being or essence, and bah, good ; this, literally inter-
preted, is the kno\,'ledge of the (iood Being, and ac-
cordingly thifrbook roniprehcnds the whole science of
theology and metaphysical j)hilosophy.

The Vedas, as also the Shastres or commentaries,
pretend to great anti:[uity; so much so, that many
Kuropeans have been strangely staggered in their '^clief
of the Mosaic chronology by reading them. But it
only requir 1 a little consideration and research to
discover a -.Au cf imposition running through the
whole of their detailf, They reckon the duration of
tlie world by four ages, extending altogether to about
eight millions of year, ; but the fallacy of this reckoning
has been fully exp ised by .■'stroiioiuical observation.
The idea which the Shabtrea give of fJod is. that there
is one Supremo Being, whom they style Uhogabon or
Usher, sometimes Khodah ; proceeding from him are
three powers or deities — namely, J Iruhraha, the Creator
of all ; ViBhnu, the Preserver of all ; and Seob or Sheva,
the Destroyer of all. Now, whilst the latier is wor-
shipped by all, the former has scarcely any attention
paid to his temples ; and oven Vishnu, the Preserver,
has few votaries compared with the destroyer Seeb,
Subordinate to these are 330,000,000 inferior gods and
goddesses, each representing some ppouiiar virtue oi
vice. The Ilindtios suppose that each of I'le threw pre-
siding powers oftentimes seeks to encroach upon tbQ

EAST INDIES.

d itaie of
c cfMtei to
permitted
ct, varioua
Beaidei,
tbdiTiiiona
ploymenta >
ly be said
iipation for
Hied a de-
; authority,
together in
ity cf casto
aembers of
ler, or not
t purity of
>g scattered
onBiderable
liat excoin-

the whole,
ient habits,

English ill

are indeed
iprovement;
le means of
ihariour on

will attain

lalled Brah-
e collection
are allowed
id writings,'
ictions,' *are
The former
r expositions
e Inspired, a
jeer, on the
[ty of Delhi,
theVedas,
heir present
i into four
rat book is
!e of Divina-
The second
lich signifies
iligious and
^, which, as
ice of Reli-
is denonii-
iguifies the
irally inter-
^ig, and ac-
science of

Lmcntaries,
I that many
I their '-^lief
lu. But it
Research to
trough the
[luration of
ler to about
Is reckoning
Ibservation.
1 that tlicvi!
liogal>on or
In him arc
The Creator
lb or Shevtt,
Iter is wor-
attcntioii
Preserver,
|oyer Seeb.
• gods and
virtue oi
I thre»? pre-
upou tbQ

prerogative of his compeer, and thu« are often quarrel*
ling and seeking to snbTert each other's arrangements.'
One of their most superstitious practices consists in
worshipping or deifying the waters of the Ganges.
This large and beautiful river extends from west to
cast across an extensive district in Hindoostiui Proper,
and with its tributaries may be reached by a very
large proportion of inhabitants in the most populous
and productive part of India. The sacred ceremony of
adonng the Ganges consists In the population crowding
morning and evening to bathe in it, aiid quantities of
the water are carried to all parts of India, and B,ve
sworn by in courts of justice.

The cow is an animal held sacred among the Hin-
doos, and cow-dung is used in the temples and other
places as a species of holy ointment. The lotus, a plant
with tall luxuriant ka^^s, is likewise held in deep vene-
ration. Some of the temples or pagodas of the Itindoos
are of high antiquity and gigantic conception, majeatic
appearance, and tasteful architecture. The entrance is
alwavs made in a huge pyramid, in a number of storeys,
which gradually grow narrower as they approach the
top. Inside maybe seen the cow lying down, a serpent,
or some other object of adoration. Here sacrifices take
place. One of the most exteneiive pagodas of India is
that of Juggernaut, whose towers are seen at twenty
miles' distance. Here, as at other places, there are
prtKOSsious of idol cars, large heavy ornamented struc-
tures, which are dragged along by the multitude amid
the shouts of asseisibled thousands. As the wheels pass
cwiftly on, self-devoted victims rush forward, tliro«
themselves before them, and are crushed to death,
exulting in the hope of thus securing a pa88ai."j to the
celestial abodes. Tlif ju.i. lice of widows Biicrificing
themselves on the .iieral pile of their husbands, is
another horrid rite; but it has been suppressed in
recent times by the British government.

Itesides Brahmiuisni, there are a variety cf religious
beliefs and sects in India, but all less oi- more founded
on the most gross superstitions. Kuch possesses its
own temples, images, and orders of priesthood. The
Boodhists, previous to their violent expulsion by the
Hindoos, were second in point of numbers; but their
religion is now little known in India, and is confined
chiefly to Thibet, Birinah, Siaiii, and Ceylon.

There are, it is believed, four original languages in
India, and of these there are some hundreds of dialects,
differing less or more from each other and from the ori-
ginals, and maintaining also a partial distinction from
the introduction of Arabic, i'crsiac, and other foreign
words. While, however, each tribe has its own pecu-
liar dialect, all use one laiiguapr, the Sanscrit, in their
sacred writings. The Sanscrit is a dead language, though
probably once spoken ; it is wonderfully perfect in its
construction, and extremely copious. Its alphabet is
called Devanagari, diviue alphabet, because it is said
to have had its origin from the gods, whose language
it is; it consists of fifty letters, and has three genders.
The next language in estimation is the Pracrit, which
comprehends the various dialects used in common writ-
ing and social intercourse. The dialects of the Pracrit
are spoken in Bengal, and iucludc that which is called
liindoostanee, the principal spoken tongue iii India.

MOHAMMEDANS kHXi OTHER CLASSES.

According to Mr Hamilton, ' the modern Moham-
medans may with safety be estimated at one-seventh
of the total population; and notwithstanding the sub-
version of their political predominance by a Christian
power, their rehgion continues to expand. They are
no longer, however, the san,<;uinary zealots who, eight
hundred years ago, in the name of God and the prophet,
spread desolation and slaughter among the unconverted
pagans. Open violence produced little efFeci on bo
patient a people; and although the Mohamnisdans sub-
sequently lived for centuries intermixed with Hindoos,
no radical change was produced in the manners or
tenets of the latter; on the contrary, fur almost a csn-
tury past, the Mohammedans have evinced much defer-

ence to the prejudices of their Hindoo neighbours, and
a strong pre<lilection towards many of tlieir ceremo-
nies.' The warlike portion of the Mohammedans hav-
ing recently been dislodged by the British from tho
Mahratta courts, where they had found shelter, they
have been obliged to seek employment in inferior sta-
tions. Tho Mohammedans of India are more intel-
ligent, and possess greater strength and courage, thau
the Hindoos; but they are also more proud, jealous,
revengeful, and rajtacious, and their fidelity is much
less relied on by the British government, in some
districts the Mohammedan population is nearly as
numerous as that of tho Hindoos, and both seem to
liv in a state of mutual amity.

Uesides the Hindoos and Mohammedans, there are
various scattered tribes in India, of a very different
character from either, and often inhabiting mountainous
tracts of countrv, and called Garrows, Monguls, Tartars,
&c. Among the different races is found that of the
Parsees or Persians, tho ancient worshippers of firCi
long since driven from their native country by the per.
secuting sword of the Arabs. Many of this people ore
opulent, and they take the lead in the commercial trans-
actions of Bombay, Surat, and other north-western parts.
Their general conduct is <(uiet and respectable.

Notwithstanding what has been related of the strict-
ness of the Hindoos regarding modes of living, they
seem liable to fall in with European usages. In Cal-
cutta and other largo towns, many of the wealthy
natives imitutc tiic British iu tlieir dress, household
furniture, equipages, and style of living, and show a
strong desiro to mix in their social parties, to which,
however, they rarely find access. The I-^uglish take
no pains to conciliate the friendship of the native tribes,
however well behaved and intelligent they may be.
' Of this foolish, surly, national pride,' says Bishop
lieber, ' I see but too many instancea daily, and I am
convinced it does us much harm in this country. Wo
are not guilty of injustice, or wilful oppression, but we
shut out the w Ives from our society, and a bullying,
insolent manner is continually assumed in speaking to
them.' The cxclusiveness of this species of hauteur is
perhaps fully more remarkable with respect to that
class of persona who have drawn their origin from the '
intercourse betwixt the Knglish and nati\es. These
Indo-British, as they arc called, form a 'luit of the
population of Calcutta, and are a very inti-resting and
increasing people. ' ^lany of them,' sav> Stathain,
' are very opulent, and others can vie with the more
cultivated of thtir Europea.i neighbours iu literary
attainments; notwithstanding this, there is a marked
contempt shown them by Euroiieauf genera.'ly. If a
European lady should wtid with an Indo-Briton, the
doors of all the higher circles would be closed ugainst
her, however rich the man of her choice ">'.gbt be.'
This state of things will happily be modified by the
provisions of the act already noticed,

RURAL CHARACTERISTICS AND PKODIJCIS.

In the large and fertile territorj' of Ik-ngal, as well
as in all other parts of India where the cultivation of
the soil is pursued, the art of the huabandman is, a.^
may be expected, still in the rudest state; and in every
quarter there exists great room for improvement, which
nothing could so well facilitate as the settlement of
Intelligent European families. In the inundated dis-
l -lets of Bengal, rice is the main crop which is raised,
av least during!; tiie wet season : it grows to its greatest
height while the lands are overflowed, and is frequently
reaped by men in canoes, the ear only being cut oft',
ai d the stalk left. When the peasants go to market
during the height of the flood, they take their families
with them, lest the house should be washed off during
their absence with thi boats. Rice is the summer
croi>, requiriiig much heat and moisture; br.i, during
the cool dry season, from November to April, they
sow and reap aisother harvest, consisting of wheat,
barley, or different kinds of pulse : this is caJlo'l the
dry aop, because it is reared without flooding the lands;

2C9

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

tlie lice being (»n«iderod »■ the viet crop, for » contrary
reaaon. There nro therefore two •eed-tlrneg »nd two
h»rTeit». Befidei thew regular cropi, many small
grains are eowii, which are limited to no particular
seaeon of the year, and which reward the induitry of
the cultirator with a rich vegetation at all timee.

Beeidei the diiferent kindi of grain, the fannen of
Bengal raiie a number of other product!, of great value.
Of theie, one of the principal is indigo : this is a small
plant, shrubby in its growth, but in its leaves and flowers
very much lilie the common ts <'?3 of this country; it is
sown during the rains, and raised in rows or drills.
The leaves only are useful, on which account it is cut
repeatedly, without being allowed to flower, which
would make it drier and less juicy. The leaves n/e
steeped and beaten in a vat among water; after which
the liquid is strained through cloths, and set to evapo-
rate in shallow troughs placed in the shade. This is
soon effected in that warm dry climate ; and the indigo
is then found deposited in a crust at the bottom. The
process requires much preparation and expense; and it
has only succeeded well since the country has enjoyed
peace, and there has been a , ttnect of employing
large capitals with security. It now produces, however,
a large return to the cultivators ; and gives a new
BOUi-ce of wealth to the country. It is cultivated along
the whole course of the Ganges up to Delhi, and is an
annual in the lower, but a triennial in the upper pro-
vinces. It succeeds best ou overflowed grounds, and
in dry seasons is apt to fail. The number of factories
of indigo in the Bengal presidency is estimated at 300
or 400. A few of them belong to natives; but they
are chiefly in the hands of Englishmen, who take leases
uf 10,000 or 20,000 acres of land, in the name of na-
tive servants (not being allowed to hold it in their
own), from a zemindar for the purpose. They encou-
rage the ryots (native cultivators) to raise crops of the
plant, by making advances to them in money. They
purchase the produce at a price agreed on, and erect
works for extracting the dye from the plant; the whole
of the operations being generally conducted by native
lalK.urers, under native superintendents. It is observed
thai the establishment of such factories raises the value
of laPL*, oxtends cultivation, and spreads a certain de-
gree of improvement in the villages. The importa-
tion of Bengal indigo into Britain began about forty
years ago, and has since increased to an amazing extent.
It is calculated that about 11,000,000 lbs. are annually
exported from the country, of which 7,000,000 lbs. come
to Britain, and the rest goes to America, France, Ger-
many, Sweden, &c. In Bengal alone £1,6110,000 are
expended for rent and labour in its production, and it
realises in Europe a sum of £3,(>00,000. In the coun-
tries named, Bengal indigo is silently obtaining a pre-
ference over every other.

tiilk is raised in great quantities in Bengal and (^rissa,
between the latitudes of "ii" and 20", and it has hitherto
been very nearly a monopoly in the hands of the Com-
p«ny. It is chiefly produced by the native Indian worm,
whict! aiTonU four mips, or sometimes six in the year :
the Italian worm, which was introduced half a century
-^(o, yields only one crop a year, but of a flner quality.
The Indian silk, compared with the best European
varieties, is * foul, uneven, and wants staple;' but its
cheapness has brought it into extensive consumption.
The Company have eleven factories, or ' filatures,'
which form the centrer of ' circles,' within which the
cultivation of silk is earned ou, each having a certain
number of subordinate stations. The silk, in the raw
ctate, is purchased from the ryots at the factories or sub-
factories, wound off the cocoons, and prepared for trans-
mission to Europe. About 2,000,000 lbs. are annually
brought to England, of which a very small quantity (one
per cent.) is equal to the finest silk ; the mass of it is
decidedly inferior. There is atroiig ground to conclude,
however, that tli-: ^irw^i'ction of silk in India will yet
be greatly increased.

Cotton has long been cultivated by the natives in all
the three prMidencies. It ii unirersally of the kind
270

called * short stple,' and being coarM iu quality, and
badly cleaned, it fetches only two-thirds of the price of
American short staple in the British market. The best
quality comes frera Bombay (the Guzerat); the next
from Madras; and the worst from Bengal. Tb« cultU
vation being entirely in the hands of the natives, is
rudely conaucted; and in particular, pains are not
taken to renew the plant constantly from the seed, as
the Americans do with the most advantageous results.
Experiments have been made under the sanction of the
Company, and by private individuals, to introo'uce and
cultivate .4ner species than those in use, but they have
generally been failures. There is no doubt, however,
that by the introduction of European capital and skill,
the quality of Indian cotton may be much improved,
aud what is raised sent to the market in a much cleaner
and better condition. The exports of cotton from India
to all countries amounted lately to 72,OOO,v')O0 lbs,, of
which only a third part came to Great Britain,

The cultivation of the sugar-cane is pursued with
great success in Bengal and other parts of India, but
chiefly by the natives, for domestic use. The process
of bruising the canes is on a rude plan, and the sugar
which is produced is from this or some other cause very
inferio," to the sugar of the West Indies. In no article
of prod\ice is there greater room for improvement than
in this. The cultivation of the cane requires great care
and skill, and the mechanism for extracting and pre-
paring the jugar can only be erected at a great outlay
of .-apital. li is anticipated that when Europeans are
permitted to hi Id lands freely, aud to embark capital
on sugar plantations, sugar of good quality may be
manufactured vnuch cheaper than in the West Indies,
where the price of labour is much higher.

The bam* to, a 8[iccies of cane or rSed, is much cul.
tivated i!> Pvn^-al. It grows to the amazing height of
forty fe'i*'; and though it arrives at perfection in two
vears, it has all the firmness of the hardest timber. It
has joints like a reed, or like grass, and is, like them,
quite hollow; yet it is so strong that the porters of the
country use it for suspending the heaviest burthens
t'ctween their shoulders. It is used for beams and
uprights in building houses; and being protected from
damp by a kind of natural varnish, it will last in such
situations for a hundred years. It serves also for
making bridges, for the masts of small boaU, and for
innumerable other purposes; vet of this useful mate-
rial, one acre of land will yield ten times as much as
the same space will produce of other wood. None of
the productions of India puts so many conveniences, in
regard to furniture, lioDses, boats, &c. within reach of
the poorer classes, as the bamboo. It would require a
volume to mention even the names of the plants useful
to man which flourish in the luxuriant soil of Ben-
gal. Cotton, tobacco, the opium poppy, rape (which
is cultivated for the sake of its oil), cucumbers, vege-
table marrow (as one of the gourd tribe is called), and
innumerable other plants, always afibrd a plentiful
harvest. Of fruit-trees there are the luango, which is
something like our peach, the date-tree, the tamarind,
the guava, the pomegranate, and others. Another pro-
duction, which is peculiar to warm climates, and which
grows in high perfection along the sea-coasts, is the
cocoii-palni. This tree would of itself be almost suffi-
cient ioi- the subsistence of mankind in the countries
where it grows, so various and useful are its products;
indeed there are some populous islands— the Maldives
and Laccadives — where little else is cultivated.

In the interior of India, the tea-plant is said to
flourish, and is likely to become of great importance to
the trade of the country. Districts lying between the
2(>th and 2Hth degrees of north latitude, and the 04th
and !l6th degrees of east longitude, are described as pos-
sessing this shrub in abundance, and of a quality equal
to that of China. In Assam, which lies between Bengal
and 'J'hibct, the attempt has lately been made to culti-
vate and gather the product of the tea-plant for pur-
poses of commerce. In 1838, ninety chests of it were
imported into London, and found to be of a good quality.

KAST INDlEfl.

juallty, and
tk« price of
t. The boit
); the nest

The cultl-
I natiTM, ii
in« air« not
tke need, a*
90UR reauUk.
[iction of the
itrou'uce and
at they have
bt, howerer,
al and skill,
h improTed,
nuch cleaner
ri from India
0,000 lbs., of
tain.

lumued with
)f India, but

The process
nd the sugar
er cause very

In uo article
jvement than
res great care
ing and pre-
, great outlay
Europeans are
nbark capital
ality raay be

West Indies,

Pertoni ikille-1 in the (gathering and preparatioD of tine
leares have been introduced from China; and there
•eems little reason to doubt that Assam is capable of
producing tea to any extent, if sufficient capital .Mid
enterprise were exortod in the undertaking.

CHIEF CITIKS.

Calcutta, the British capital of India, is situated about
100 nii'.cri from the sea, on the east bank of the Uoogly,
a branch of the Ganges, in latitude 22° 23' north, longi-
tude Stf" 28' east. The length of the town is about 6
miles along the bank of tho river. When seen from
the south, on which side it is built round two sides of
a great open plain, with the Qanges on the west, it pre-
sents the view of a very noble city, with tall and stately
houses ornamented with Oreuian piliara and spacious
verandas. The esplanade between the town and Fort-
William leaves a grand opening, along the border of
which is placed the new and splendid government-house,
erected by the Marquis Wellesley. Fort - William,
which was commenced by Lord Clive, is the largest and
strongest fortress in India, but i^i considered too exten-
sive to be easily defended i its garrison usually consists
of two European regiments, with artillery, besides a
supply of native troops. The public buildings of Cal-
C'ltta, besides the government house, are a town-hall,
a court of justice, two churches of the establisiied reli-
gion, and one for the Scotch Presbyterian worship,
which is a very handsome edifice. There are also seve-
ral chapels for other religious bodies, mosques, and
pagodas — the latter generally decayed and ruinous, the
religion of the p«>ople being chiefly conspicuous in their
worship of the Oanges, Ikhind the elegant front lines
of houses is ranged the native town, deep, black, and
dingy, with varioua crooked streets, huts of earth baked
in the sun, or of twisted bamboos, interspersQd here
and there with ruinous brick bazaars, pools of dirty
water, cocoa-trees, and little gardens, with some fine
large dirty houses, the residences f wealthy natives.
' Fill up this outline,' says Bishop) lleber, in hiii valu-
able Correspondence, ' with a crowd of people in the
street, beyond anything to be seen even in London,
some dressed in tawdry silks and brocades, more in
white cotton garments, and most of all black and naked,
except a scanty coveting round tho waist, besides figures
of religious mendicants with no clothing but their long
hair and beards in elf-locks, their faces painted white
or yellow, their beads in one ghastly lean liand, and the
other stretched out like a bird's claw to receive dona-
tions; marriage procossion:^, with the bride in a covered
chair, and the bridegroom on horseback, so swathed
round with garlands as hardly to be seen; tradesmen
sitting on the ground in the midst of their different
commodities, and old men, lookers on, perched naked
OS monkeys on the flat roofs of the houses; carts drawn
by oxen, and driven by wild-looking men with thick
sticks, so unmercifully used as to undeceive perfectly
all our notions of Brahminical humanity; attendants
with silver maces pressing through the crowd before
th? carriage of some great man or otlier; no women
seeii except of the lowest class, and even these with
he'^ivy silver ornaments on their dusky arms and ankles;
while coaches, covered up close with red cloth, are seen
cinveying the inmates of the neighbouring seraglios to
take what is called "the a" ;" a constant creaking of
cart wheels, which are never greaised in India; a con-
stant clsmo^r of voices, and an almost constant thump-
ing .md jingling of drums, cymbals, &c. in honour of
their dtitiss; and add to all this a villanous smell of
garlic, rancid cocoa-nut oil, sour butter, and stagnant
ditches, and you will understand the sounds, sights, and
smellr of what is called the " Black Town " of Calcutta.
The fingulatity of this spectacle is best and least offen-
sively enjoyed on a noble quay which Lord Ilastingr
built along the shore of the river, where the vesctls of
all forms and sizes, Arab, Indian, Malay, American,
English — the crowds of Brahmins and other Hindoos
washing and saying their prayers — the lighted tapers,
which, towards sunset, they throw in, and the broad

bright stream which iweepa by tliem, guiltloM of their
impiety and unconscious of their homag* — afford a
scene such as uo European and few Asiatic cities can
at all parallel in interest and singularity.'

Ill recent times considerable improvements havt
bo«Ti made in and alwut Calcutta, jungles being cleai-ed
«way, sti'ccU drained, and stagnant water removed.
Though the situation of Calcutta has not been well
oli'iHen, it is excellently adapted for commerce. At
liii^h water the river is here a full mile iu breadth.
Tho advantages possessed for iniavid navigation ar*
considerable; foreign i)ui>orts may be transported with
great facility, on tho Oanges and its tributaries, to th«
noith- western quarters of 11 indoostan, while the valuabl*
productions of^ the interior are received by the same
channels. There is at itll times a vast quantity of mer-
chandise depositou at C'alcutta, and the trade carried
on in now very extensive. Besides a government bank,
there were lately two private banks, which circulate
to a considerable amount. There are oeveral daily, _
twico-a-week, and weekly newspapers; and recently a
quarterly roview. The religious, and charitable, and
educational in8t'*utions are numerous, and of great
service. Society ;ii Calcutta is gay and splendid; and
the British inhabitants among their own class wn
described as hospitabli;, thtiugh jealous of etiquette,
and of an overbearing disposition. There are no
hotels, or inns, or lodging-houses of any description
— a want which appears perfectly amazing — and all
strangers, male or female, must be provided wi^.h intro-
ductions to the houses of residents. The expenses
of living are very considerable ; and as there are
now no more opportunities of acquiring wealth by the
spoliation of native principalities, fortunes are much
seldomer realised than formerly. 'There being also now
fewer deaths, there arc fewer chances of promotion.

The population of Calcutta is composed of about
14,000 Christians, 48,000 Mohammedans, and 120,000
Hindoos; but this is the amount only within the city
proper. If the environs or suburbs be included, the
prpulation will amount to perhaps 500,000; and so
densely peopled is the surrounding district, that %vithin
the circuit of twenty mileo there is a population of
nearly two and a-half millions. In 1841 the exports
of Calcutta amounted to £5,867,767, and the imports
to £8,369,329.

Madras, the seat of government of Southern India,
is situated in the Curnatic, on the shore of fie Bay of
Bengal, in latitude 13° 5' north, longitude 80° 21' east.
The shore is here Jow, and dangerous to approach by
vessels. On the beach stands Fort Bt George, a place of
considerable strength, and which may be easily defended
by a small garrison. A noble range of public edifices,
including a customhouse and courthouse, nlso adorn
what is called the north beach. Madras diffeni in ap-
pearance from Calcutta. It has properly uo European
town, the settlers residing in their houses in the midst of
gardens, and transacting business iu the disci ict appro-
priated to the residence of tho natives. The principal
church in Madras, St George's, is a beautiful edifice.
There are many excellent charities here; and the school
for male and female orphans, into which the philanthro-
pic Dt Bell introduced the Lancastrian system of edu-
cation, is superior to anything of the kind in Calcutta.
The society of Madras is more limited than that of Cal-
cutta, but the style of living is similar. The roads in the
vicinity are excellent, and afford most agrt-eable drives
to the European residents. According to ileber, ' tbt
native Christians are numerous and increasing, but are
u 'ifortuiiately a good deal divided about caetes.' The
Armenians are here numerous, and some of them
'.•ealthy. A Scotch Presbyterian church has been some
' tune erected. The population of Madras and its
suburbs has been stated at upwards of 400,000. In
1!)4I tbe exports of Madras amounted to £1,780,000.
and the imports to £3,000,000.

Bmnbay, the leat of government for the western
parts of India, is t . small rocky island, lying on the west
coast of Hindcc:tan, in latitude 18' 66' north longitude

271

CHAMDERffS INFORMATION FOR THE PEOr^E,

72* ^7' OMt. Lomlwy wm orlglnallv nome hilly rooky
iiletf, but thoic, l>y the iiiHiienco of the hitfh tUlo*, have
been joined to e»on other; and now the iilntid i« com-
powd prill -ipttlly of two unequftl r»iige» of whiiittono
rocki, exti'Miliufi; from A to H miles in length, and nt
the diitancu of about ." miles from each other. All
the ((rouitd that can l)fl uultivated is now laid out in
•Kriculturui nnd the remainder is oithur barrnn tie
covered with tho reKidonces of Kuro|)'"vii!i and nativL's.
These residences are on wot, low, lind ii '»\lthy grounds,
ever below hif;li-watnr mark; and frc this and other
circumstauoes, Bombay is described »-< being the most
insalubrious of tho presidencies. The fort of llonibny
is situated at the south-eastern extremity of the island,
tin a narrow neck of laud, 'i'ho chief advantage of
lionibay is its deop tide-water, which permits the most
extensite system of maritime trade : excellent docks
arc erected for tho accomnmdation of the Hhlpping.
Uomb(»y is the seat of very extensive trade with the
Persiait Uulf on the north, as well as with tho south of
* India. C'otton is the principal article of export. The
populatiuu is stated at about 1110,1)00, composed of
Christians, .lews, Mohammedans, Hindoos, and Par-
sees. In 1011 tho exports of lionibay amounted to
£5,160,769, and the imports to ;t:.5,577,ai5.

MISCKLLANKOUS PARTICULARS.

The prooeding brief sketches can convey but a, feeble
idea of the imnionse extent and varied character of the
Indian empire, as well as of its Tost capabilities and
importance as a possession ot Hritain. In India, tho
European traveller is everywhere charmed with the
wild grandeur of tho scenery and the luxuriance of the
•oil; and he is equally 8uri>r»od at the density of tho
population, and the traces of 8Ui)erf<titious observance,
which meet his eye. The people for the most part lire
in an oxueodingly simple manner. Much of their food
requires no cooking; plantains, cocoa-nuts, pumpkins,
and other truits, being more palatable raw than dressed.
The chief cooked article is lice. Houses are made of
bamboo or cajanii stakes, without splitting, planing,
or dressing of any kind; they as.- !^ou woven together
with small twigs equally un|;..a.i,'i < :< ; the whole is
plastered over with nmd from ilV.' .iH'west clay -hole,
and then thatched with coco.t <tu!; .".i < a fresh from the
tree. Oars for their l'on>.» •{)■■ oi.Jy ' ambooa, with a
round board tied t> the e' 'i ; titi.- i.%adts are two or
three of 'he same bamboos iaiiii<; J ■■ (.,.-ther with strings.
Driu<;tng cups are made of a lur^'i autshell, with one
end rubbed olf on a stone ; a most palatable and whole-
?<mi'i drink is found in the juice ot the cocoa-nut palm,
which is received into an earthen jar as it drops from
the point of a broken branch ; and its only preparation
is straining through a kind of natural sieve, which is
found at the roots of every leaf on the tree. The com-
mon people wear little or no clothing; and when ii
rains, their only umbrella is formed of a number
of palm-tree leaves sewed together by the edges into
a snape resembling a cradle cut across, which covers
their head and back. All processes of manufacture
and handicraft are on the rudest possible scale, and
carried on without what we tenn capital. The people
only scratch the ground instead '>f ploughing it; they
never apply any manure ; their corn is tjirashed by
setting bullocks to tread upon it; tho smith's anvil
is the nca'.est stone, bis bellows a rough goat-akin ; a
shoemaker tans the raw hide one day, and makes tihoes
of it the next, sitting the whole time at the door of his
customer; the weaver's apparatus needs but the shadow
of a tree for shelter, and it cjin be removed at an hour's
notice to any other tree which is more convenient.
Even their disti'lery needs only an earthen kettle, some
cold water, and a few bamboo reeds for a worm ; and
with these they produce liquors as intoxicating and
pernicious as any manufactured by the science uf
Europe. This absence of skill in all the processes of
industry, renders the labour of the working man of
very slight value : bunco he never receives more than
what is barely neccsiiary for subsistence; and the mags of

the people are consequently at (he lowest ebb in rejcarj
to domestio accommodations or mental av<)uir«nients.

Himr'o us iho bulk of the population i', there are not
wanting scattered tribes an<l families dexterous )>oth in
ciinniptf and crime. In the accounts of all travullorv, it
is mentioned that there is no possibility of travelling
in almost any part of tho interior in lafety without a
guard and retinue of servants. Tho roads, if tht>\ can
be called such, are hardly-discernible trucks, qiii'i. iMI"
fitted for wheel-carriages, and travellers roust lliciefore
ride on horseback, or on the ' l- of elephunts, or !)•
carried in palanquins— a spe< I'll ,( litter si. ;>pvrted on
i"\«n'n shoulders, Tlioni beivy, ii.'.,a no inns ivi India,
each traveller is oblige*! to carry tents and provision*
for daily use. In tho states of Uhopaul, ()udp,Uwalior,
and the Company's possessions in the F)oab, as well
as in Rome other quarters, there exist liordns of wretchci
called Thugs, who infest the roods, and canv on a
methodic system of murder, for the sake of plunder.
They kill by strangling their unhappy victims. Tho
Thiigi form a po<!uliar race, and practise their murders,
as is alleged, from a religious principle; nt all ovei>ts
they attach no idea of criminality to the offence. They
have practised the trade for centuries, and are with difh-
culty restrained within bounds by the European forces.

Independently of the efforts ol the Hishop of India
and the religious establishment with which ho is con-
nected, tho Church of 8wtlaiid and other bodies of
Christians have for some years been putting forth their
exertions to attempt the conversion of the native pa^'aii
races, and consequently to elevate their condition But
on the whole, very little .success has crowned their well-
meant labours; the loss of caste, which inevitably fol-
lows tho abandonmciit of the Hindoo faith, may be stated
as a barrier to conversion which no power of persutt-
sion can remove; in short, it has been proved bey-tnd
tho possibility of doubt, thai to Christianise India tho
people must m the first place be instructed in secular
knowledge. Aware of this fact, attention is beginning
to be directed to the education of the young. Fortu-
nately, the general population throughout ilengul and
Qahar, where investigations have been made, arc zeal-
ously anxious fV-i- instruction in useful knowledge, us
well as to loam tho English language.

Until within the lost few years, the intercourse with
India was carried on by mcan>< of vessels belonging to
the Piast IiidiaCompany or private traders, which made
the passage in about fi'.s months I'y tho Atlantic and
Cupe of Good Hope. This most tedious route is still
pursued by trading vessels; but the more expeditious
route by the Mediterranean, Egypt, and Red Sen, to
Bombay, is adopt<!d for mail conveyance and passengers
who desire a quick transit. The lino pursued is across
France to Marseilles; thence by steamboat, touching at
Leghorn and Naples, to Malta; and by another steamer
from Malta to Alexandria; or from Southampton direct
by steamer to Alexandria ; from Alexandria by canal
to the Nile, and onwards by boat to Cairo; thence by
I'.r.d to Suez; down the Red Sea from Suez to Bombay,
'•'( -.hing at Mocha — total length of time from London
tv> Bombay from thirty-five to forty days I

The circulating medium of India consists of gold and
silver coins, paper-money, and cowrie*. The most com-
mon silver currency is tho new coinage of C'alcutta.
Potdars, or money-changers, are a common class in
every town, and sit generally in tho open air with heaps
of cowries placed before them. Cowrif« are small
shells, which, not being depreciable by imitation, fonn
a good medium for buying and selling among tho lower
classes. Their value varies in different places. The
following is their value in Calcutta: — 4 cowries 1
gunda; 20 gundos 1 pon; 3'J pons 1 current rupee, or
28. sterling (2.'i60 cowries); 10 cunent rupees £1 ster-
ling. The sicctt rupee is 16 per "cent, less in value than
the current rupee, which is an imaginary coin. The
liombay rupee is valued at 'Js. 3d.; a pagoda is 8b.
Tho British government now supplies a commodious
coinage, the more common silver coin being the rupee,
which nearly resembles our half-crown.

lb In rejiKril
iiir«iiu«niB.
here are lint
ri'ui both in
tr»TeUer4, it
f travi'&lirif{
1 without u
if the* call
g, f[liil(. iili-
lat therefore
hiinti, ur l>e
,.;»j)urt«(l 'III
It ill Initiii,
t iiroTiiioim
dp, Owalior,
aab, lu well
I of wri'tchoi
cftny on a
of plunder,
ctiiiii), Tho
eir niurdcni,
it all events
tciicc. Thc^
.rewithdifti-
>pean forces,
lop of India
h ho is uon-
tr bodioH of
g forth tlicir
lative pagan
idition Itiit
d their wcU-
ovitably fo!-
iiaybuHtatc'U
r of pernutt-
ived beyond
iiH! India tho
A in sucular
iH boginniiig
ing. Fortu-
llen}!ul and
do, arc zeal-
loivledge, us

courgc with

onging to

hich made

tlantio and

outo is Btill

expeditious

[led Sea, t.)

pasaongers

led is across

touching at

her steanioi'

pton direct

ia by caoul

thence by

to Bovnbay,

■om London

if gold and
most corn-
Calcutta.
on class in
with heaps
are small
ation, forta
g tho lower
aces. The
cowries 1
mpee, or
IS £1 Fter-
value than
;oin. The
;oda is 8s.
niuiodioua
tho rupee.

AFRICA.

This is one of the great dirisioni of the globe— the
srcond in poliu of size, but by far the least important
M regards the ciTilisation and progress of the nunian
sueciet. It it situated in the eastern hemisphere, to
the south of Europe, ami the south-west of Asia, and
liei between latitude 37° north, and 34° 50' south, and
longitude 17° 30' west, and .51° 30' east. It it of an

irregular trian^'iilar form, with the rertex towardi th*
south, haying the Mediterranean on the north, tka
Isthmus of .Sueii. Red Sea, and Indian Ocean on the
east, and tho Atlantic on the west. It is thus almost
entirely insular, thu connecting isthmus lieing only 72
milet acrost, of no great elcTation alioTo the teu-leyel,
and even in part occupied by talt-iakcs and manhM.

The bounding coast-line is marked by few indentations
or projectioni; tho most important gu.f being that of
(Juinea on the west; and Capes Bon, Verde, Good Hope,
and Guardafui, the extreme points respectively on tli"
itorth, weat, south, and east. The greatest length of tlu
continent, from north to south, is about 4985 miles ; great-
est breadth, from east to west, 4615; and area, including
the islands, not less than 11,854,000 square miles.

SUI'KRFICIAL FEATURES.

Respecting tho physical aspect and construction of
Africa, our information is extremely limited ; all that
is known, with any degree of accuracy, being parts of
Morocco and Algiers in the north, certain points in the
seaboard of Senegambia, Upper and Lower Guinea,
Cape Colony, the hill country of Abyssinia, the valley
of the Nile, and certain tracks or lines across the Sa-
hara, or Great Desert. All description beyond these is
mere conjecture, or the not very credible reports of
natives and caravans. It would appear, however,
No, 63.

\st. That the triiingular region south of the Kong,
Camero<iii, and Dongu ranges, is a high dry table-land,
hemmed ui by mountains on all sides, and descending
by steps to the sea-shore, which is in most parts rocky,
and but partially fringed by narrow belts of sand. The
bounding chains on the north rise, in the Cameroons,
to a height of 1 3,000 feet, and probably much higher
in the Dongas. Nothing ia known of the Lupatas, or
' Backbone of the World,' on the east, save that they
skirt, almost unbroken, the entiro sea-coast; the hills
of Cape Colony ri>e, from Table Mount, 3582 feet, to
the Snieuveldt, 7400, and thence to the Nieuveldfc,
10,000 feet, the intervening spaces being shrubby kloqfs,
or valleys, and broad grassy terraces, or karoos. Cape
Colony is, on the whole, an undulating country, enjoy-
ing a fine climate, by no means well-watered, and often
subjected to destructive droughts. (See p. 278). Of the
west coast, we leani that it is rather arid and sandy in
the Naraquas region ; but, according to Dr Tarns, tho
coast of Lower Guinea la generally rocky, and wooded

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OHAUBEBffS INFOBMATION FOP THE PEOPLE.

to the water's edge, unlen at the rirer embouohnrei, and
theie it ii composed of iwampy impenetrable jungle.

2d, North of the Kong and Donga mountaini, on-
wardi to the frontier! of Morocco and Algiertj extend
the great deierta of SaJiara and Libya — conititutitig
one rait plain, but little interrupted by undulationc.
Thii region preeenti three distinct series of aspects —
namely, tracts of loose drifting sand, unrelieved by a
■ingle shrub; districte coTeted lees or more with gravel
ancT shingle^ and bearing dry prickly shrubs, and a
■oMify herbage; and oases m light pulverulent soil,
watered by springs, and studded with clumps of
Minis, datei^ pomegranates, and other tropical trees.
'Instead of a torrid repon,' says a writer in the Edin-
burgh Review, 'where boundless steppes of burning
sand are abandoned to the roving horsemen of the
Desert, and to beasts of prey, and where the last ves-
tiges of Moorish civilisation expire long before the
traveller arrives at Negroland and the savage commu-
nities of the interior, the Sahara is now ascertained to
consist of a vast archipelago of oases; each of them
peopled tijr a tribe of the Moorish race or its ofisets,
more civilised, and more capable of receiving the lessons
of civilisation, than the houseless Arabs of the Tell
[the mountainous tract lying between the Great Desert
and the sea]— cultivating the date-tree with applica-
tion and ingenuity, inhabiting walled towns, living
under a regular government, for the most part of a
popular origin — carrying to some perfection certain
branches of native manufactures, and keeping up an
extensive system of commercial intercourse with the
northern and central parts of the African continent,
and from Mo^ador to Mecca, by the enterprise and
activity of their caravans.'

3d, The mountiunouB district of the Tell, lying be-
tween the Desert and the Mediterranean — a region
wholly composed of the Atlas chain, and its subordi-
nate ridges. Where the hills fall towards the Atlantic
in Morocco, the country becomes somewhat flat ; but,
eastward, it is hilly, and diversified only by narrow
valleys and ravines. On the Mediterranean side of the
elevation, the climate, produce, and aspect are some-
what similar to those of Southern Europe ; but the
other side is hot and arid, and insensibly passes into
the Sahara. Mount Atlas attains an elevation of
11,400 feet, but some peaks in the chain rise much
higher, and, according to recent accounts, seem to be
permanently covered with snow — a fact which would
seem to indicate an altitude above 15,000 feet.

4th, The region skirting the Red Sea, which com-
prises the hilly and not unftrtile countries of the Galles
and Abyssinians ; Nubia, which, with the exception of
the valley of the Nile, here comparatively narrow, is
also hilly, and somewhat drv and arid; and Egypt,
which consists of the alluvial valley and delta ot the
Nile, fenced on the west by low hills and desert, and
on the east partly bv the hills which skirt the Red
Sea, and partly by tne sandy desert which forms the
Isthmus of Suez, and stretches onward into Arabia.

OSOLOOT — HTDROORAPar.

Bespeeting the lUluilogy of Africa we know little, and
that little only from observations made cursorily and at
distant intervals. We know that the deltas of the
Nile and Niger are formations recent and still in pro-
gress; and that the deserts of Sahara, Libya, and Egypt
consist of sands, gravel, silicifled woods, and other
petrifactions, wldim indicate a sea-bottom, upheaved
at no very distant date. Granite, syenite, and por-
phyry abound in Abyssinia and Upper Egypt, and in
Lower Egrpt the nummulite limestone is the prevailing
formation. Rocks of volcanic orinn are abundant on
the Red Sea, which seems still to be the seat of igneous
forces. The Atlas range are chiefly granitic and pri-
mair; and sandstones of transition date were observed
on the banks of the Niger during the model-farm ex-
pedition of 1841. In Cape Colony sandstones prevail,
which seem to be transition or older seeondaiy; Mid
■ome specii&eni now before us, from C«ffi«ii«, are tri-

dently primary. Gold, silver,' copper, lead, and iron
seem to be plentiful, if we can regard the ornaments of
the natives ns evidence; indeed we have recent testi-
mony, from an accredited explorer of the Russian go-
vernment, that in the interior of Guinea auriferous
sands are abundant, and apparently richer in produce
th|ui the deposits of Siberia. Natron has been long
known to the inhabitants of the deserts, and salt, appa-
rentlv collected from salt-lakes, forms an important
article of commerce in the interior.

The iftsnrfs oonnected with Africa are, with one eX'
ception, small, and generally far removed from the main-
land. Jtn the Indian Ooean are — Madagascar, separated
from the continent by the diannel of Moiambique,
having an area of 230,000 square miles, or more thaa
that of France, rich in mineral and vegetable producei
and with a population of 4,500,000 ; the important
islands of Bourbon and Mauritius, each having an area
between 800 and 900 square miles, wiUt populations
respectively 92,000 and 106,000^ and fertile in every
species of tropical produce; the minor groups of Comoro,
Amerante, and Seychelles, north of Madagascar ; and
Socotra off Cape Guardafiii, with an area of 1000 Mjuare
miles, and a population of about 4400. In the Atlantic
are — the volcanic group of Tristan da Cunha, occupied
bv a few British squatters ; Ichaboe and other islets,
along the south-west coast, recently ransacked for
guano ; the rocky islet of St Helena, 28 miles in cir-
cumference, and from 600 to 1200 feet high; the equally
solitary volcanic rock of Ascension, recently camsoned
as a station for the slave cruisers; the densely-wooded
isles of Annobon, St Thomas, and Femiindo Po, in the
Gulf of Guinea — the last rising in Clarenoe Peak to an
altitude of 10,600 feet; the Cape Verdes, a rug^d
group of volcanic origin, rising in the still smouldermg
crater of Fogo to 7840 feet; the Canaries, consisting of
seven principal islands, with an area of 136,000 square
miles, and a populatioi' of 240,000, also )f igneous
origin, and rising in Teneriffe to an altitude of 12,182
feet ; Madeira, 46 miles by 7, with a population of
113,000, composed of volcanic traps, which attain an
elevation of 4400 feet, and celebrated for its delightful
climate and wines; and lastly, the Azores, a numerous
cluster, likewise of igneous birth, and rising in the
Peak of Pico to 7000 feet, rich in tropical fruits and
wines, with a population of 250,000.

Respecting the hjfd\-ographical features of the conti-
nent, little is known beyond the Nile and Niger; the
existence of lakes Tchad and Dibbie in Soudan, Dembea
in Abyssinia, and the salt-lakes of Tunis. All that can
be said of the rivers Zaire, Congo, Zambeze, Gaboon,
&c. or of the lake Maravi, and so forth, is little better
than conjecture. The Nile is valuable principally as the
fertiliser of Egypt, as described in a subsequent section
of the present sheet. By means of a recently -cut canal,
it is open to flat-bottomed boats from the sea at Alex-
andria to Cairo, and from this to the cataracts by the
rude shallops of the country. The Niger discharges
itself, by upwards of twenty mouths, Uirough a low
accumulating delta, which greatlv impairs its utility as
a means of communication with the interior; never-
theless, during the late unfortunate expedition, the
Albert steamer ascended with little difficulty to figga
— ft distance of 350 miles from the sea.

CUMATE — BCTANY AND ZOOUMT.

The climate, as might be expected from the podtion
of the continent, is wholly that of the torrid zone, with
the exception of a belt on the north and the extreme
southern projection. ' It may even be said that the
influence of this tropical climate is felt over a great
part of those countries which their northern situation
should exempt from it; for it is really only that strip
of Barbary which the Atlas protects from the hot winds
of the Desert, and that part of Hottentot-land protected
by the Nieuveldt, and other mountains near the Can0(
that enjoy the advantaces of countries situate within
the temperate louss. With the exception, therefore, of
these nmU and uirow tracts, of thot* n^iions in th9

bd, and iron
>rnaments of
recent testi-
Rusaiau go-
la auriferoui
r in produce
M been long
id lalt, appa-
u impoitaDt

witkone ex-
rom the main-
ear, Mparat«d
Moiambique,
or more toan
able produce,
be important
aving an area
i populations
rtile in every
ip8 oi Comoro,
agaacar; and
>f 1000 tquare
a tbe Atlantic
mba, occupied
1 otlier isleti,
ransacked for

I miles in cir-
b;theec[ualljr
itly camsoned
ensely-wooded
ddo Po, in tbe
loe Peak to an
des, a rug^d

II smouldering
I, consisting of
,36,000 square
Iso ')f igneous
tude of 12,182

I population of
ucb attain an
■ its deligbtful
s, a numerous
rising in tbe
cal fruits and

I of tbe.ponti-

nd Niger; tbe

adan,I)embea

All tbat can

beze, Gaboon,

is little better

icipally as tbe

quent section

tly-cut canal,

sea at Alex-

laracts by tbe

;er discbarges

rougb a low

its utility as

lerior; never-

pedition, the

Ity to Egga

tbe podtion

Id zone, with

I tbe extreme

id tbat tbe

over a great

Im situation

^y tbat strip

lie bot winds

nd protected

' the Cape>

kuate within

therefore, of

ions in tke

AVBICA.

bterior to which ihtlt elevation imparts the coolness
of higher latitudes, and the borders of the great lakee
and rivers, everv part of Africa is burnt up by conti-
nual beat, and the continent generally may be regwrded
as the warmest rerion of tbe globe. Nothing mode-
rates tbe heat and the dryness but tbe annual rains, tbe
sea winds, and tbe elevation of the soil ; while ii^ tbe
well-watered regions, tbe moisture, combined with the
heat, though productive of tbe most luxuriant vegeta-
tion, are extremely deleterious to man.'

The vegettUion of Africa, without raising any ques-
tion as to what may have been introduMd from other
continents, is decidedly less varied, and more unique,
than that of Europe or Asia. Along tbe Mediterranean
seabpard it greatly resembles that of Southern Europe;
and wheat, l/arlev, maize, rice, the grape, orange, fig,
olire, and date, thrive to perfection. In Upper Egypt,
Nubia, and Abyssinia, tbe characteristic plants are
gum-yielding acacias, tbe cassia or senna-shrub, coflfte,
ginger, turmeric, cardamoms, the lotus or jujub, and the
nelumbium or water-lily. Cape Colony is distinguished
for its heaths, proteas, pelargoniums, mesenbryantbe-
mums, stapelias, crassulas, euphorbias, aloes, cactuses,
tbom-apple, mimosa, and other prickly shrubs; and
yields also luxuriantly such plants as have been intro-
duced by the colonists — namely, vines, currant-grape,
oranges, peaches, apricots, pears, apples, and other
garden ftiiits known in the warmer parts of Europe,
with tobacco, pineapples, and tea, attempted by tbe
Dutch. In the other Known parts of tbe continent, the
vegetation is strictly tropical, and often peculiar. Here
flourish palmsand dates, tbe banyan, gigantic udansonia,
the dragon-tree, banana, papaw, tamarind, anona, sugar-
cane, cotton-tret), cassava, tallow-tree, maize, manioc,
yam, ground-nut, melon, pine-apple, and other forms
native to warm regions ; while in the islands are cultivated
chiefly tbe vine, orange, melon, cofiee, and sugar-cane.

Tbe Fauna, as might be expected from tbe insulated
nature of tbe continent, is in many instances peculiar;
several of its forms being found in no other region.
Among the more characteristic may be mentioned nu-
merous apes and monkeys; tbe lion, panther, leopard,
and other felinee; the hyena, jackal, racoon, &c.; nume-
rous species of antelopes and gazelles in tbe south; the
buffalo, camel, dromedary, and giraffe ; tbe horse,
zebra, quagga; the elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus,
and masked-boar; seals, dolphins, and other cetacea.
Of birds — eagles, griffons, vultures, and numerous
birds of prey; tbe ostrich, bustard, and guinea-fowl;
tbe parrot family in great abundance; the flamingo,
pelican, secretary-bird, and crane; the cuckoo, swallow,
nightingale, and quail, which are only summer visi-
tants in Europe. Of reptiles — crocodiles, alligators,
monitors, be.) serpents in great variety, many of which
are poisonous ; lizards and chameleons ; and various
species of turtle. Fith are abundant in all the rivers
and seas, and present forms unknown to Europe; Crus-
tacea and shellfish are equally abundant. Africa pos-
sesses no useful insects, but has instead the locust.
Scorpion, termite, and scarabseus of ancient Egypt.

POMJLATION — IRDVOTRT.

The itiAahitants, vaguely estimated at 100,000,000,
belong wholly to tbe EtMopic and Caucasian varieties
of our species: the former including all tbe dark-
coloured native tribes, by whatever name they are
called, from tbj Sahara and Abyssinia on the north to
tbe southernmost extremity; the latter, the Egyptians
or Copts, the Abyssinians, Arabs, Berbers, Moors, and
other families arising from admixture of these. The re-
ligion of tbe negroes Is Feticism, or the worship of natu-
ral objects, animate or inanimate; the Arabs, Moors, be.
are Mohammedans; the Copts and Abyssinians observe
a corrupted form of Christianity: and the European
settlers are Roman Catboliti br Protestant, acconling
to tbe mother-country from which tboy come.

CivUiiation is only to be met with in tbe settlements
of the Europe&ns; the condition of the Moors, Arabs,
and Egyptian!, is Kaicely entitled to rank higher than

that of lemi-civilisatton, whih all tbe other native
tribes ate little in advance of the lowest barbarism.
The ans are exercised only on the northern coasts,
where the Moors manufacture silk, cotton, leather, and
linen. An active commerce is carried on by them
with the maritime nations of Europe; and by meant
of caravans, a traffic, fully as im^rtant, with the in-
terior, to which they convey their own products and
those of Europe. The wants of tbe savage races are
exceedingly simple, and most of the articles used by
them are prepared by themselves. Commerce, how-
ever, with Europeans has taught them new wantt,
and increased their list of necessaries ; among which
may now be reckoned firearms, powder, brandy, tobacco,
diflbrent kinds of, cloth, glass-beads, coral, kc, fbr
which they barter slaves, ivory, gold, gums, piJin-«U,
dates, and other raw produce.

CODNTKIES — OOVEBNHENTS.

The foreign powers having possessions in Africa are
— Britain, occupying Cape Colony, which was taken
fW>m the Dutch in 1806 ; the Mauritius, with tbe minor
islet-groups of Amerante and Seychelles, taken from
the French in 1810; the islets of St Helena and Ascen-
sion; Fernando Po, all but abandoned; and the settle-
ments of Sierra Leone and Cape Coast: France, possesi-
ing the island of Bourbon, tbe settlement of Senegambia,
and, since 1830, tbe somewhat dubious and expensive
colony of Algeria:* Portugal, occupying some settle-
ments on the Mozambique coast, the coast of Lower
Guinea, and tbe west coast, tbe Cape Verde Islands,
Madeira, and the Azores : Spain, to whom belongs the
Canaries, and the forts or districts of Ceuta and Me-
lilab, near tbe Straits of Gibraltar: the Imaum of il/us-
cat, who claims Socotra, and some portions of Zanzibar:
and Turkeg, who holds merely a nominal superiority
over Tripoli, Tunis, and Egypt.

Respecting tbe native states and governments, we
know little or nothing ; and what little is known is of
no civilised interest. In fact, with tbe exception of
Egypt, which lays claim to high historical interest (see
HiSTORv OP Ancient Nations), as well as to some re-
cent progressive movement under Mehemet Ali, and
our own colony at Cape Gh)od Hope, there is no region
within the limits of the continent to which we need
direct particular attention. To these two countries,
however — the formtr as now forming the overland key
to our Indian territories, and the latter as an emigra-
tion field of some importance — we may appropriately
devote a fctv pages of description.

EGYPT.

In point of local situation Egypt possesses varions
advantages. It lies in the north-east comer of Africa,
in a salubrious part of that vast continent, presenting
its northern base to the Mediterranean Sea, and bounded
on tbe east by the Red Sea, which separates it from
Asia. Through tbe whole land from north to south, a
length of 900 miles, flows tbe Nile, a fine large stream
rising in tbe inland kingdom of Abyssinia, and, frt>m
certain periodic floods, of great use in irrigating and
fertilising the country. A large poi-tion of Egypt con-
sists of an alluvial plain, similar to our fertile meadow
grounds, formed by tbe deposits of the river, and bounded
by ranges of mountains on either side. The greatest
breadth of tbe land is 150 miles, but generally it is
much less, the mountain-ranges on either side often
being not more than five to ten miles from the river.
Anciently this territory was divided into three prin-
cipal parts — Upper Egypt, which was in tbe inner iii

* ' The conquest of Algiers,' says RuesoI, in his account o) .ut
Barbnry States, ' has relieved the Mediterranean teom the ditsu
of piracy, though it will be long before any other advantage can
be derived fh>m this achievement by Franco. The climato is
indeed good, and the soil rich ; but the inhabitants of the a^a-
cent country are reganlless of treaties, itrangers to tlie enjcy-
ment of social lifb, addicted to plunder, and accnstomod to ooo-
aider war as their hoiedltary profcsston.*

87A

CHAHBEBS'S HTFOBMATION FOB THB PEOPLE.

•outhemptrt; Middle Egypt; and LowW ItoT>t. whioh
included wliat was called the DelU, » low diftrict of
land on the • hoiei of the Mediterntnean, formed by the
inoutht of the Nile into the shape of the Greek letter
A, or delta. These dirisiomi are still appropriate, forming
an aggregate superficies of 202,000 mues, of which only
about 20,000 ai« susceptible of profitable culture.

The NUe.
The most remarkable natural object in E^pt is the
Nile, wliich periodically overflows its low bank a, and
inundates the neater part of the country. The Nile
is formed by the union of two streams m the upper
country, the Bahr-el-Abiad (white river), and the
Bahr-el-Azrek (blue river), in latitude 15° 40' north.
The former, rising in Abyssinia, to the south-west of
lake Dembea, comes from the south-east, and was con-
sidered by Bruce as the Nile. The latter, however,
which comes from the south-west, and is supposed to
rise in the Mountains of the Moon, in the centre of
Africa, brings down the greatest mass of water, and is
considered as the true Nile. There were anciently
reckoned seven principal mouths by which the waters
of the Nile were poured into the Mediterranean; onl^
those of Damietta and Rosetta are at present navi-
sable; the others have been silted up. The distance
from the confluence of its two head branches to the
sea is about 1500 miles; from its highest sources pro-
bably not far from 2500 miles. At certain points in
its course the Nile f.Jls over a series of cataracts, or,
properly speaking, dennonds a series of tumultuous
rspids, for the fall is nowhere above two feet of sheer
descent. The cataracts are not altogether a bar to
navigation, as fiat-bottomed boats which soil up the
river may be drawn up by an extraordinary force.

Tt grand phenomenon connected with the Nile is
its ari'Uul overflow of the banks which border it — an
event looked for with as much certainty as the daily
rising of the sun. These valuable inundations are
owing to the periodical rains which fall between the
tropics. They begin in March, but have no eifect upon
the river until three months later. Towards the end
of June it begins to rise, and continues rising at the
rate of about four inches a day, until the end of Sep-
tember, when it falls for about the same period of time.
Herodotus, the Grecian historian, informs us, that in
his time a rise of sixteen cubits k'os suflicient tc water
the country. At present, twenty-two cubits are con-
sidered a good rise. The towns are generally built in
such a situation and manner as not to be overflowed by
the inundation ; and in some parts of the country there
are long raised causeways upon which the people may
travel during the floods. It is only in cases of an ex-
traordinary rise that any villages are destroyed. The
inundations, instead of being viewed as a calamity, are
considered a blessing, for they are the cause of inex-
haustible fertility. After the waters have subsided, the
earth is found covered with a fine fertilising mud,
which has been left there by the river. The whole
valley of the Nile may be considered as an alluvial
plain composed of the washed-down mud and sand of
Central Africa, and it is therefore to these inunda-
tions that Egypt owes its existence.

In Upper and Middle E^^pt there are immense
numbers of canals on the left bank of the river.
Mehemet Ali, the late pacha, opened many of the
old canals, which had been closed for centuries, and
dug new ones; among the latter, the canal of Mah-
moud, connecting the harbour of Alexandria with
the Nile, near Fouah, 48 miles long, 90 feet broad,
and 18 deep, is a magnificent work. The Delta is
bordered by a number of maritime lakes or lagoons,
which at different periods have undergone considerable
changes; some of them had been dried up, when, from
various causes, their connection with the ocean, which
had been interrupted, was again resumed, and the
exhausted basins replenished with water. It might be
supposed, that in consequence of the annual inunda-
tions, Egypt would be a wet or moist countiy; but the
276

very reverie is the case. The waten an speedily dried
up, and carried off as vapours by the winds, leavuig the
cUmate so remarkably dnr, that meat in the open air
will not putrefy, but be dried or shrivelled up. Rain,
snow, thunder, or any of the common atmospheric
phenomena, are seldom or never seen or heard.

CUmate— Natural ntstoiy.

In Egypt the harvests follow each other at the dis-
tance of about six or eight weeks, according to th»
different kinds of grain, leaving time in most cases for
a succession of crops wherever ther^ is a full command
of water. The cold season commences with December,
and continues for about two months. Early in Feb-
ruary spring appears, when the atmosphere acquires »
delightful warmth, and the tree j put forth their blos-
soms. The period of summer may be said to commence
in June, and to end at the close of September. The
transition from the one season to the other is so imper-
ceptible, that it is scarcely possible to say when the
one be^s and the other ends. During these four
months the heat is intense; the fields to which the
swelling river has not attained, are parched like a
desert, and no ^en leaf is seen but such as are pro-
duced by artificial irrigation. Autumn, which is only
marked by a slight diminution of temprature, com-
mences about the middle of October, when the leaves
fall, and the Nile retires within its channel; and till
the approach of that season, which can only be called
winter from its situation in the calendar, the face of the
country resembles a beautiful and variegated meadow.

Front the nature of the surface, and the universal
aridity of the surrounding desert, Egypt is much hotter
than most other countries under the same parallel. .
From March to November, the atmosphere ifi inflamed
by a scorching sun and a cloudless sky, the average
height of the thermometer being about 90°; during the
other six months it is about 60°. At sunset, the winds
fail, and the nights are generally cool, and the dews
heavy. Except along the sea-shores, rain is a pheno-
menon in E«5rpt. At Cairo, there are on an average
four or five showers in the year; in Upper Egypt, one
or two at most; nor are they considered as beneficial
to the agriculture of the country. Storms of thunder
and liehtning are still more uncommon.

In its geological features, Egypt presents great
variety, including specimens of almost every formation,
from the earliest to th-; most recent. Several granitic
chains of hills stretch tc is'.derable extent. These

contain vast quarries of ., from which the ancients

drew the stupendous mi< ;quired for their colossal

statues and obelisks. Bb.^een Assouan and Esna lies
the sandstone, or middle district, which supplied blocks
for the temples; aod beyond it, the northern or cal-
careous dut^ <.ct stretches to the southern angle of the
Delta, 'a! is last chain supplied materials for the
Pyramids, and many public buildings. The limestone
extends from Syene to the Mediterranean, and, in
Lower Egypt, from Alexandria to the Red Sea, in the
vicinity of Suez. Other valuable rocks are abundant
in I'J^ypt, and various precious minerals are found.

Anciently, the country was more generally fertile
than in the present day, owing to the encroachment of
the sands of the adjacent deserts, and the long period
of desolation and mismanagement in which it has
existed. Still, owing to the inundations, the lands are
more than usually productive, and yield crops of wheat,
barley, rice, millet, maize, flax, beans, cotton, tobacco,
the sugar-cane, and other useful vegetables. Of fruits,
the citron, lemon, pomegranate, apricot, banana or
plantain, and the palm-de^, flourish luxuriantly. The
palm is cultivated to a large extent in the inundated
and irrigated lands, and groves of it, yielding a delight-
ful shade, are to be seen, consisting of sevenu thousand
trees. Another celebrated production of Egypt is the
lotus, a species of water-lily, of great beauty, exhibiting
broad round leaves, amid which the flowers, in the
form of cups, of bright white and azure, expand on the
surface of the waters. The roots of vegetables wer^

AfRlOA.

dnd M food by th« ancient Egyptian!. There is alio
the napynia, not Icm celebrated than the lotus, and
which fumithed a material uted aa paper, before the
inrention of that article; it ii, like the lotui, an aqui^
tic plant, growing to the height of eight or ten feet
amid the iwampi of the Nile.

In zoology, the camel, so emphatically named the
ship of the deaert, has long been domesticated in the
country. The giiaife, or cameleopard, has been occa-
sionally seen. Amongst the ancients, the ichneumon
was Tenerated with a species of worship. Ichneumons
are domesticated in Egypt, where they perform the
duties of our domestic cat, in ridding the houses of
the smaller animals. The names of the crocodile and
hippopotamus ate familiarly associated with Egypt and
the Kile; but the latter is now rarely or ever seen
below the cataracts. A species of lizard, called the
monitor of the Nile; the common qameleon; the lizard;
the sorex, or shrew, and the jerboa; the goat, sheep,
and the animals which figure in the Egyptian mytho-
logy, such as the dog, ape, buffalo, &c. — still belong
to the zoolosy of the country. Of birds, the ostrich, the
ibis, of which there are several species, and the Egyptian
Tulture, are most famous. With respect to fishes, the
country presents nothing remarkable, with the exception
perhaps of the polypterus or bony-pike of the Nile, the
only existing analogue of a numerous division of fishes
long since extinct, and now only found fossil in the
transition and secondary formations of the geologist.

Inhabitants.
The population of Egypt is composed of an extra-
ordinary mixture of races, and of all shades of colour;
some claiming to be descendants of the ancient Egyp-
tians, though utterly degenerated; others being from
Arabian or Saracenic intruders; and so on to the num-
ber of a dozen distinct races; also a variety of mixtures
to whom no name can bo assigned. The following is
the common enumeration : — 1. Tho race called Copts,
the supposed descendants of the ancient Egyptians,
and more certainly tho feeble remnant of a once nume-
rous Christian population. 2. The Fellahs, who com-
pose the bulk of the 1 .bouring class, and who are sup-
posed to be a mixture of ancient Egyptians, Arabians,
and Syrians; they are rigid Moslems. 3. The Bedouir
Arabs, the same in character, manners, and customs
that they are everywhere, and apparently ever have
been since the days of the patriarchs. 4. Arabian
Greeks; that is, the descendants of ancient Greek colo-
nists, who have lost their ancient language, and speak
a kind of Arabic. Many of them are mariners; but,
in general, they pursue the inferior and handicraft
trades. 5. Jews. To these must be added, as inhabi-
tants of Egypt, 6. Syrian-Greeks and Maronites, who
have, within the last century, greatly increased in
numbers, and have proved successful rivals of the Copts
and Jews as merchants and agents. 7. Armenians. 8.
Turka 9. Franks or Europeans. 10. Moggrelins, or
Western Arabs. 11. Ethiopians, and other Africans.
The following is as near an approximation as can be
obtained of the relative numbers of the different divi-
sions of this motley crew :— Copts, 160,000; Arab Fel-
lahs, 2,250,000 ; Bedouin Arabs, 1 50,000 ; Arabian Greeks,
25,000; Jews, 20,000; Syrians, 20,000; Armenians,
10,000; Turks and Albanians, 20,000; Franks, 4000;
Ethiopians, jcc. 7500; which amount in all to 2,666,500.
The Arabs have been divided into three classes :—
First, the wild independent Bedouins, who occupy the
Desert; second, the pastoral tribes, who feed their
flocks upon the borders of Egypt, and occasionally
enter the cultivated provinces ; and lastly, the pea-
sants or Fellahs, who are devoted to agriculture and
the arts. The latter, who form the bulk of the
population, are described as a fine race of men in
their persons, active in agricultural employments, and
possessed of many good qualities. In their dress and
household economy in general, though not strangers
to comfort, they are so to everything like luxury.
Their food ia very plab, and none but the higher

orden, or those of diiiolate lire*, ever taste wb«;
The Arabs carry on the common trades of civilised
life, but in a very unskilful and imperfect manner.

After enumerating the varioul Oriental races who
inhabit Egypt, it need hardly be mentioned that
Mohammedanism is the prevailing religion. Generally
speaking, those who profess Christianity know nothing
of its doctrines or moral precepts, the practice of their
faith being confined to a few unmeanine ceremonies,
and the repetition of a few established phrases The
whole people, high and low, are in a state of intellec-
tual darkness; in the towns there exist among Jews,
Franks, and Turks, a degree of comfort and some
wealth; but in the country parts many of the inhabi-
tants are in a state of deplorable wretchedness; and in
several districts they are seen almost entirely naked,
having neither regular food nor clothing, and no lodg-
ing except in holes or mud-built hovels.

State of the Coontry— Mohemet Ali.
Mehemet or Mohammed Ali, the modem reformer and
late pacha of Egypt,* was bom at Cavallo in Roumelia,
a part of European Turkey. His parents, who were of
a humble condition of life, had a family of sixteen chil-
dren, of whom he was the youngest; and being a greater
favourite than his brothers and sisters, he in early life
became accustomed to indulgences, and to be impatient
of the control of superiors. His youth, it has been re-
lated, was partly spent in the service of a tobacconist;
but leaving this employment, which was unsuitable to
his genius, he entered the Turkish army as a common
soldier, at a time when troops were raising in his native
district. This was the sphere of life in which he was
calculated to shine. Distinguishing himself as a soldier
by his bold and skilful conduct, he soon attracted the
attention of beys, pachas, and the sultan himself; and
having attained a prominent position in the bloody wars
that distracted Egypt under the Mamelukes, he rose
to be pacha, or viceroy, of Egypt, one of the highest
posts of honour in the whole Turkish empire. On
getting the command of that province, he speedily
showed that he was no ordinary man. He established
a regulorly-paid, disciplined, and armed military force,
on the European plan, instead of the irregular bands
of men serving as soldiers in Egypt. The remnant of
the Mamelukes, that remarkable body of men, which,
since the days of Saladin, had practically governed
Egypt by overawing the vice-regal authority, he anni-
hilated, and thus became the uncontrolled lord of the
land of the Phai'aohs, Ptolemies, Cissars, and Caliphs.
By the strictness of his goveniment, he rendered Egypt
as safe to travellers as any ordinary civilised country.
Agriculture, commerce, manufactures, all engaged his
attention; and though his reforms were accomplished
with a despotic hand, perhaps with no small degree of
cruelty, still he prodigiously advanced the cause of
civilisation and improvement in Egypt, and opened the
way for further and more important reforms.

It is incontestable that Mehemet Ali did much to
further the advancement of civilisation in modem
Egypt; but the whole of his efiforts at the same time
tended to personal aggrandisement, and to the complete
subjection of the people to his will. In order to main-
tain his authority, he raised troops from amongst the
male population by the most tyrannical means; and so
much was this forced military service detested, that
great numbers of young men mutilated themselves, by
destroying an eye, or cutting off one or more fingers, in
order to escape the conscription. * His revenue,* says
Mr Lane, speaking of the pacha in 1836, ' is gene-

* Mehemet, who ia now at the advanced age of eighty-five,
resigneil in fevour of his son Ibrahim, who was formally invested
with the government of Egypt by the Turkish sultan in Septem-
ber 1818. Ibrahim, who has all along been the chief pride of his
father, survived this elevatioii only for a few weeks— dying on
the 10th November 1848 at the age of fifty-nine. Achmed, tho
son of a younger brother of Ibrahim, and grandson of Mehemet,
is now viceroy and M/.iur of Egypt, acting of course in the spirit
and under the influence of bis grandfather.

277

CHAUBEBB'S INFORMATIOIV FOB THE PEOPLE.

nlly laid to vnount to about X8,000,000 iterliuf.
iHnxly half ariiM from the direct tasei on land, and
from indirect ezaotioni from the fellaheen (fellahi or
agriculturisti), the remainder principally from the ous-
tom-taxei, the tax on palm-treei,a kind of income-tax,
and the lale of varioui productions of the land [no one
being permitted to export com or cotton but himself] ;
by wiioh sale the government, in moat instances, ob-
tains a profit of more than 50 per cent. Meheniet
All has increased his revenue to this amount by the
most oppressive measures. He has dispossessed of
their lands all the private proprietors throughout his
dominions, allotting to each, as a partial compensa-
tion, a pension for life proportioned to the extent and
quality of the land which belonged to him. The far-
mer has therefore nothing to leave to his children
but his hut, and perhaps a few cattle and some small
savings. The direct taxes on land are proportioned
to the natural advantages of the soil. Their average
amount is about Ss. per feddan, which is nearly equal
to an English acre. But the cultivator can never cal-
culate exactly the full amount of what the government
will require of him : he suffers from indirect exactions
of quantities (differing in different years, but always
levied per feddan) of butter, honey, wax, wool, baskets
of palm-leaves, ropes of the fibres of the palm-tree, and
other commodities ; he is also obliged to pay the hire
of the camels which convey his grain to the govern-
ment shooneh (or granaiy), and to defray various other
expenses. A portion of the produce of his land is taken
by the government, and sometimes the whole produce,
at a fixed and fair price, which, however, in many parts
of Egypt, is retained to make up for the debts of the
insolvent peasants. The fellah, to supply the bare
necessaries of life, is often obliged to steal, and convey
secretly to his hut, as much as he can of the produce
of his land. H» may either himself supply the seed
for his land, or obtain it as a loan from the govern-
ment; but in the latter case he seldom obtains a suffi-
cient quantity ; a considerable portion being generally
stolen by the persons through whose hands it passes
before he receives it. It would be scarcely possible
for them to suffer more, and live. It may be hardly
necessary, therefore, to add, that few of the fellahs
engage with assiduity in the labours of agriculture,
unless compelled to do so by their superiors. The
pacha has not only taken possession of the lands of
the private proprietors, but he has also thrown into
his treasury a considerable proportion of the incomes
of religious and charitable institutions, deeming their
accumulated wealth superfluous. He first imposed a
tax (of nearly half the amount of the regu'ar land-tax)
upon all laud which had become a vuckj (or legacy
unalienable by law) to any mosque, fountain, public
school, jcc. ; and afterwards took absolute possession of
such lands, granting certain annuities in lieu of them,
for keeping in repair the respective buildings, and for
the maintenance of those persons attached to them, as
nazirs (or wardens), religious ministers, inferior ser-
vants, students, and other pensioners.' Mr Lane sub-
sequently mentions that sometimes the poverty of
parents causes them to sell their children to any one
who will purchase them, which presents a shocking
idea of the oppressed and degraded condition of the
humble order of modem Egyptians.

In pursuing his schemes of improvement and family
aggrandisement, Mehemet All acted as a despotic mono-
polist in all matters relating to both agriculture and
commerce. He not only dictated what article of pro-
duce shall be cultivated, but the price at which it should
be sold. According to Dr Bownug, it appears that in
1834, the country produced about 500,0(MI quarters of
wheat, 450,U00 quarters of dourah, 4U0,UUU of beans,
280,000 of barley, and 80,000 of maize. Of wheat,
however, the produce sometimes rises to 1,000,000 of
quarters. The average price of wheat is from 208. to
27s. per quarter at Cairo, but in years of scarcity it
rises to 60s. Egypt is generally an exporting country,
though sometimes, us iu 1837. forced to draw supplies
278

from abioad. The cultivation of cotton wai introduced
by Mehemet, and succeeds well, the exports of this
article in 1834 having been 200,000 cwts.; and in 1845,
18,000 tons. Flax-growing has also been revived, and
exports to some extent have been annually made to
Britain since 1839, The late pacha also endeavoured to
extend the cultivation of sugar, introduced improved
sugar-mills, and brought persons from the British colo-
nies to distil rum. He also invited Armenians from
Smyrna and the East Indies, to teach his people how to
cultivate opium and indipo, and prepare them for th«
market. There are about 2,000,000 of date-trees in .
Egypt, each of which yields by its fruit from 8s. to 16b.
per annum. A few attempts nave been made to intro-
duce the vine. Onions are still produced and consumed
in prodigious quantities, as in the days of Herodotus.
The pacha established model farms, with improved
ploughs, pumping agparatus, &c. ; but even his despo-
tism could scarcely induce the people to abandon their
ancient rude processes and implements.

The pacha was also a great manufacturer. He built
large mills, and procured skilled workmen, at a great
expense, from France, Italy, Germany, Belgium, and
Britain, to conduct them. He had manufactories of
cotton yam and cotton cloth, woollens, carpets, iron-
ware, muskets, cannon, bayonets, gunpowder, &c. which
are still carried on by his successor. All these estab-
lishments are believed to have been attended with loss,
and in some cases the loss was heavy. The spinning-mills
for cotton were the roost extensive of the manufactories.
There wore twenty-two of these in 1839, which, accord-
ing to Dr Dowring, produced about 210,000 rottoli of
yarn monthly, of various qualities, from coarse to
* very fine.' The Cairo rottoli is, we believe, just equal
to the British pound, while the Alexandrian rather ex-
ceeds two pounds. The pacha had three manufactories
of arms, which turned out 1600 muskets and bayonets
per month. The largest one was managed by an Eng-
lidhman, as indeed were most of the mills, factories,
water-works, and other machinery. These and other
innovations and improvements are still carried on with
unsubdued ardour by Mehemet, whose retirement from
office is rather nominal than real. He is still, though
considerably upwards of fourscore, the centre and spirit
of all reforming vitality and progress throughout the
country : he maintains modem Egypt.

All travellers represent Meheniet as a person of plain
and affable manners in private life, and fond of hi|
family. Dr Bowring speaks of him as follows : — ' Me-
hemet AH was forty-six years old before he had learned
either to read or to wrvte. This he told me himself.
I have heard that he was taught by his favourite wife.
But he is fond of reading now; and one day, when I
entered his divan unannounced, I found him quite
alone, with his spectacles on, reading a Turkish volume,
which he was much enjoying, while a considerable pile
of books was by his side. " It is a pleasant relief," he
said, "from public business; I was reading some amus-
ing Turkish stories" (probably the Arabian Nights);
"and now let us talk — what have you to tell me!"
There is a great deal of sagacity in Mehemet All's
conversation, particularly when he knows or discovers,
as he usually docst the sort of information which his
visitor is most able to give. He discourses with engi-
neers about mechanical improvements — with military
men on the art of war — with sea-officers on ship-build-
ing and naval manoeuvres — with travellers on the
countries they have visited— with politicians on public
affairs. He very willingly talks of foreign countries,
and princes and statesmen, and is in the habit oi
mingling in the converslition all sorts of anecdote!
about himself, and the events connected with his his-
tory. His phrases arc often poetical, and, like most
Orientals, he frequently introduces proverbs and ima-
gery. I heard him once say, speaking of the agricul-
ture of Egypt, •* When I came to this country, I only
scratched it with a pin ; I have now succeeded in cul-
tivating it with a hoe; but soon I will have a plough
passing over the whole laud."

ATRtOA.

OppiMMd M modem Eg]rpt is, it ii gratifying to
itfloot that it ia improring in ranoua reapeota. Edu-
cation, after European modeli, haa been introduced ;
and printing ia now executed at Boulac, near Cairo,
the preis having there produced more than a hun>
deed different books in the Arabic language, for the
UM of the military, naval, and siril Mrrants of the
gOTemment. A newspaper and an annual almanac
are also regularly printed at Boulac. Another print-
ing establishment has also been set down in Alex-
andria, and promises to be of vast service to the in-
habitants, as well as to strangers and travellers, A
cooaideiable export and import trade is now oarried on,
the raw produce of the country being exchanged for the
manufactured woollen, cotton, silk, and other goods of
Europe. The cause of national regeneration Is further
advanced by the regular transit of European passengers
on their overland route to and from India.

For administrative purposes, the country is divided
into 24 departments, which are subdivided, according to
the French system, into arrondissements and cantons.
The capital is Cairo, an inland city, with a fluctuating
population of 280,000. The chief ports are Alexandria,
with a population of 60,000, Damietta and Rosetta on
the Mediterranean side ; and Suez and Cosseir on the
Bed Sea. The annual exports from Alexandria are
estimated at £2,500,000; the imports at {£9,000,000.

CAPB COLONY.

The extreme southern projection of the AfUcan con-
tinent was formally taken possession of, in the name
of Great Britain, in the beginning of the seventeenth
century. No settlement, however, ensued this for-
mality. In 1650, the district was colonised by the
Dutch, who afterwards made settlements in Saldanha
Bay and elsewhere; and disregarding, like other colo-
nising adventurers, the rights of the natives, gradually
extended their encroachments, till their tenritoiy
reached nearly to the boundaries of that now known
by the name of Cape Colony. In 1795, the Cape was
taken possession of by Britiih forces; but at the peace
of Amiens, in 1800, it was evacuated, and restored to
its former masters. In 1806, it was again taken by
the British, to whom it was finally ceded at the general
peace in 1815. Since then considerable numbers of
our countrymen — Scotch, English, and Irish — have
made it their home; where, following chiefly a rural
life, they rear herds, flocks, and corn; export wool,
hides, horns, and ivory; and attempt the preparation
of wine, tobitcco, aloes, and some other drugs and dye-
stuffs. The aboriginal tribes consisted of Hottentots
and Fingoes, Bushmen and Caffree, of whom the two
former have become subject to the white settler, and
been greatly reduced in numbers; while the latter have
reluctantly retreated into the wilderness, contesting
on the frontier whether barbarism or civilisation shall
there prevail. The population of the colony — amount-
ing to upwards of 160,000 — consists, therefore, of our
countrymen, of the Dutch boers or farmers, the sub-
dued natives, and a number of half-castes — a motley
community no doubt, but one which contains within
it all the elements of steady and successful progress, if
the nature of the country be such as will ultimately
repay their exertions. The administration of public
anaits is vested in a governor, aided by executive and
legislative councils. In 1842, the gross revenue of the
Cape amounted to £149,920, and the expenditure to
£142,229; the last, however, was exclusive of the ex-
penses incurred at home on account of the colony.

With respect to the eligibility of the Cape as an
emigration field, numerous and contradictorv opinions
have been ofiered — interested parties describing it in
unmeasured terms of approbation; while others, unsuc-
cessful in their endeavours to settle, decry it as an arid
and sterile waste. The following account, taken from
* Waterston's Encyclopsedia of Commerce,' and the
manuscript notes of an intelligent friend, who travelled
the country in the early part of 1846, seem to contain

as fair and impartial a statement •• U ia poMibk t«

give within our narrow limits : —

* The Cape territory,* says the former of these autho-
rities, writing in 1848, ' is in general nigged and barren,
and deficient in the moans both of internal and exter-
nal communication. But a portion of the east coast ia
of a different character, more especially towards the
north-east frontier, including the district of Albany,
where the country is well-wooded and watered, and
favourable for agriculture and grazing. The west coast,
and a great portion of the rest of the country, consist
of barren mountains and arid plains; one of which, the
Oreat Karroo Desert, a high parched table-laud, sepa-
rating the Cape Town district from the finer countnr
to the north-east, extends about 100 leagues in length
from east to west, and 30 in breadth. The climate,
however, is one of the finest in the world ; and were
the aridity of the soil counteracted by irrigation, and
the means of intercourse improved by the formation of
roads, the character of the country would be very dif-
ferent, as the capabilities of the soil are naturally great.
The only parts thiclcly settled are the Cape and Stel<
lenbosoh districts — which contain about 3-8ths of the
whole population — some parts of Worcester, Graaf Rey-
net, and the British settlements at Graham Town and
Bathurst in Albany; the other portions are oceupied
chiefly by the Dutch boers. Nearly 225,000 aoree are
under crop, yielding annually about 540,000 bushels
of wheat, besides smaller quantities of barley, oats, and
rye; the remainder of the productive surface is chiefly
open pasture land. The principal mercantile com-
modity is wine, of which about 1,518,000 gallons are
made yearly, besides about 126,630 gallons of brandy.
The vine is grown chiefly in the Stellenbosch district,
and within forty miles round Cape Town ; but the wines,
except that made at Constantia, near Table Mountain,
are almost all of very low quality. Of late years, part
of the capital which was embarked in the wine trade
has been transferred to the production of wool, which
has thus risen into considerable importance.

The progress of the Cape Colony has of late yean
been materially impeded by the invasion of the north-
east frontier by the Caffres, and by the extraordinary
emigration of about 20,000 of the Dutch colonists to
Natal, on the east coast. The departure of the farmers
has produced a rise in the price of provisions at Cape
Town, which has materially lessened th» demand ior
ship refreshments, formerly a principal branch of trade
at that port, and amounting to about £100,000 yearly.
The chief of the other native exports are — wine
(1,000,000 gallons), wool, hides and skins, boms, tal-
low, flour, wheat, bran, butter, whale oil and fins, aloes,
ivory, besides which, coffee, sugar, tea, spices, and a
variety of other articles, are shipped at second-hand
from Brazil, Mauritius, India, and China. In 1836
the exports amounted in value to £384,383; the im-
ports into the colony in the same year amounted to
£891,162, chiefly fVoni the' United Kingdom. With
the exception of foreign spirits (principally brandy),
wines, and spices, the British imports consist almost
wholly of manufactured goods, and of these upwards of
one-third are cottons; the remainder chiefly woollens,
apparel, silks, arms, hardware and earthenware.

The ports are few and in bad condition. The prin-
cipal are. Cape Town, the capital and seat of govern-
ment, in Table Bay, population 20,000; Port Eliza-
beth, in Algoa Bay, the shipping place for the east part
of the colony; and Simon's Town,*

• A single glance' — we turn to the notes of our travel-
ling friend — ^ at Cape Colony, particularly in its eastern
and northern districts, to any one acquainted with the
nature of the vegetable world, would be suflicient to
convince him that it is essentially a dry country, and
little adapted for agricultural pursuits. As in many
parts of Mexico and Peru, succulent plants (jOaetaceve,
&c.) greatly abound, and are associated with a similar
aridity of climate. Bulbs are also very plentiful, and,
like the preceding, are fitted by nature to lay up a
store of moisture, when it can be had, against the long

878

CHAMBBBffS INFOBMATIOH FOB THB PEOPLB.

MMUOn of drought. Thi* dijrnaM of oHmat* ia al onoe
tht bloMing and eurte of Southeni Africa. Upon it
depond the purity and lalubritr of the atmoephere;
there an no feni or jungle* of rank regetation, on
which the lun may act, and eliminate thoM noxioui
affluria which generate the fever* and ague* of damp
unreclaimed oountriea under a limiiar parallel. But
while an immediate advantage i* thu* gained by the
emigrant on the *core of health, he i* healthy to little
mipoae, 10 far a* hi* labour* a* a huebandmaii are con-
cerned. He cannot commit hi* *eed to the loil iu the
woll-ftiiinded hope of (eeinc it in good time come to
the eiokle. Heaven denie* nim rain, and he muit lead
water: but thi* artificial *upply alio frequently £ful*,
and all his field labour i* loit. Or if hi* dam* and
fountains dry not up, then run* he the ri*k of blight
ar rust, which will often *weep over hi* crop*, and
hopeleiily deetroy them in a aingle night. And ehould
he eecape the ru*t, (till, the locutt may come, and
devour *talk and ear together. The latter peat i* *o
multitudinoualy voracioui, that I have known nine
acre* of maise, ready for gather, entirely eaten up in
the course of a few hour*. No doubt much more
com might be grown in the colony than i* at preaent
reared, and years of famine, by ])rudeuce and foreeight,
foreatalled by year* of plenty ; itill, *o uncertain and
preoariott* i* the growth of grain — particularly of
wheat — in most of the district*, that Cape Colony can-
not now be reckoned, nor will ever likely become, an
agricoltural or grain-growing country.

Being e**entially pastoral in its character, let us take
a view at it* capabilities in this respect. In general,
from the scanty nature of the " sweet-grass" herbage —
exclusive of its uncertainty by drought — one to four
acres are required to depasture a single sheep, more
than double that area lor a horse, and nearly four
times as. much for an ox or cow. This estimate com-
prehends good and bad land indifiTerently over the
entire area of a farm. The large extent of ground
thus necessarily requisite for pastural range has led to
the practice of laying out the country into extensive
farms, averaging from 6000 to 10,000 acres, or from
nine to fiiteen square miles. In manr places it has
been found impossible to apportion the whole land,
even under such wide bounds, because of the want
of water; and laige tracts are still left out of occu-
pancy from this cause. Families must consequently
oe kept far apart from each other, and this isolated
condition proves a formidable bar to advanced civilisa-
tion. Even the villages iu a country so divided, and
without any mineral or manufacturing resources to
form centres of population, must be few and far be-
tween — partaking of the character of mere trading
posts between the distant farmer and merchant im-
porter. The introduction of fresh blood and home-
energy from the mother country may improve, and
has already done much for the tone of society; but
left to itself and to natural influences, the pastoral
population has no tendency to advance beyond the
rude and simple condition of shepherds. The coun-
try has been long enough settled to have become a
" States" or a " Canada," if naturo had not put in her
veto, imperatively gainsaying such a consummation.

As a maritime country, its facilities are equally scanty
and imperfect, compared with those of Britain and
America. While these two countries are inder ted by
numerous bays, gulfs, and inlets. Cape Colony presents
a mural outline of coast, with scarcely an openmg in it
to admit a vessel to the interior, or a haven to give
shelter from the seaward storms. There is not, iu fact,
a single navigable river opening on the coast, and no
Mtfe accessible harbour from Simon's Bay to Port Natal.
Saldanha Bay, ou the west coast, is the only complete
haven possessed by the colony. This total inaptitude
for inland navigation, and paucity of sea-board har-
bours, along a tempestuous coast, must ever operate as
a check on commercial activity, and keep South Africa
low in the scale of nations. At present, the want of
roads also operates seriously against the success of the
880 ^ -o

settlen; but granting that this evil were remedied —
whidi it ia not likely soon to be — the absence of any-
thing like port* must ever make the means of commer<
dal interchange both insecure and expensive. I have
seen imported goods, which were selling at thrice their
average value, reduced to their usual price in the
course of a few days, by the arrival of long-expected
vessels; and as suddenlv, on the other hand, the report
of several wrecks raise tnese good* to the most enomona
ohaige* — thu* bidding defianee to all the echeme* and
calculation* of the inland farmer who had his fur-
brought produce to diepoee of.

Another eeriou* evil, and one under which it* border
population have groaned for year* without remedy, ia
the encroachmenta and depredations to which they are
constantly subjected in consequence of the naturally
defenceless sti^ of the northern frontier. The most
troublesome and dangerous of the depredators have of
late been the Oaika tribe of the Amakou Caffices, and
the part of the colony subject to thei<- haraaaing
agcressions the eastern borders. The farmers in .that
neighbourhood, who may be justly reckoned the most
enterprising in the colony, have from their first settle-
ment experienced the unwelcome intrusions and vexa-
tious pilferings of their lawless neighbours, who, issuing
forth in little bands, like wolves in the night, have
seised and carried off into Caffreland countless herds of
colonial cattle. To such an extent has this habit of
plunder been carried, and so bold have become the de-
predators, that an open war has been forced on the
colony, as the only means left for the redress of its
grievances. This is not the only time that the Cape
has experienced the horrors of war, and had its borders
ransacked by ruthless invaders; and there is little
doubt, however severe and pregnant with suffering to
the settlers the present conflict may be, that British
arms will ultimately prevail.

A general complaint throughout the colony is the
scarcity of good servants: many things are left undone
for which it ofiers abundant capabilities, from a defi-
ciency of labour, as well as from the imperfect kind of
labour to be found. Hottentots, Fingoes, and other
coloured people, are the chief occupants of this walki
and are hired at from 5b. to 15s. a month, with rations.
White servants are less numerous, and remunerated
more highly — female domestics earning from £12 to
X'20 a year, and males from £18 to £30. All those
introduced this season (1846) by the emigrant vessels
from England have found places at such wages. But as
these remarks lead insensibly into the advantages of
the colony, I may now briefly allude to these.

He who can calmly contemplate and resolutely un-
dertake expatriation from his native land, for the sake
of an independence which its overcrowded walks of
trade-craft deny, may realise in the Cape this desirable
object. He is not foolishly to cherish high expectations
either for himself or family; but if he condescend to
look on himself and descendants as a nation of shep-
herds, and hazard those contingencies I have already
noticed, most assuredly may he and his ofl!iq;>ring enjoy
the easy quiet life of such a race of men. Though not
clothed in that freshness of verdure which renders home
scenery so charming, the Cape possesses a much finer
climate, a purer atmosphere, is not less salubrious,
and yields abundance of all sorts of /ruito found in
the temperate zones, with many tropical ones iu addi-
tion. But the leading advantage is its antithesis to
Britain in its field of industry being unstocked : hence
it is that no one in Africa need starve who is willing to
use his hands, or can fail to find a profitable invest-
ment for capital, if he is cautious in its outlay. The
farm-labourer will find hu services eagerly sought after,
and liberally paid ; shepherds are in demand, and
get from £30 to £40 a year; blacksmiths, masons,
house and cabinet wrights, earn from 5s. to 7s. a day;
indeed all sorts of labourers and mechanics will find
employment and suitable pay, excluding those of cour*&
engaged in weaving, and other similar branches of indus-
try, of which there ia nothing of the aort in the colony.'

j;ru»?l" .illT.I',! ^0)T..u

OCEANIA.

Thu term hH baan pnpoMd hj geogTaphtn to in-
duda tha numaroui ialondi Kftttarad ovar the gte«t
ooaan whioh extendi from the louth-eMtem shorea of
Aaift to the weitern oout of America. Ocewiia ie aepa-
nted from Aeia by the Strait* of M»laoc», the Chiueae
Se», and the Channel of Formosa; and from America
bj a broad belt of ocean, coroparatirely free of ialandi.

It maj ba laid to extend from latitude £0* aouth to SO*
north, and from longitude 96° eait onward to IIA*
west hi the oppoaite hemisphere. It naturally dividea
itself into three great secttona — Malaysia, Australaaia,
and Polyneaia — whose aggregate area haa been ragualy
estimated at 4,132,000 square miles, and population at
from 14,000,000 to 16,000,000.

MALAYSIA.

This diviiion takea its name from the Malaya, who
are the principal inhabitants, and includea the archi-
pelago immediately adjoining the south-eastern coasts
of Ana, perhaps more generally known as the East
India Islands. It lies ^tween latitude 1*2° 40' south
and 20° north, and longitude 95° and 134° east; and
consists of minor clusters and chains, intersected by
straits and channels, the intricacy of which would
render the navigation dangerous, were not the seas dis-
tinguished beyond all others by their pacific character,
and by the uniformity of the prevailing winds and
currents. The whole of Malaysia lies within the tropics;
and there is, accordinglr, a great uniformity of climate,
of animal and vegetable productions, and in the cha-
racter of the people. The islands are, throughout, of a
mountainous nature — the highest point being Mount
Ophir in Sumatra, 13,050 feet; and the Archipelago is
traversed by several lines of volcanic action, which
exhibits itself in the burning craters of Luzon, .lava,
&C. There are few extensive plains, abundance of
jungle and unhealthy swamp, out no arid deserts ;
and where not cultivated, the better land is generally
covered with forests of stupendous trees.

The natural products may be gathered from a detail
of the chief exports, which are, in the vegetable king-
dom — nutmegs, cloves, cinnamon, pepper, cofiise, rice,
sago, indigo, cotton, sugar, flax, tobacco, camphor, cas-
sava, maize, gums, gutta-percha, turpentine, betel,
cocoa, ginger, canes, rattans, areca nuts, bamboo, bread-
fruit, teak, sandalwood, and other timber for build-
ing and cabinet -making; in the aninud — ivory, wool,
hides, horses, furs, pearls, edible birds'-iiests, tortoise-
shell, whale oil, sharks'-fins, ambergris, &c. ; and in
the mineral — gold-dust, tin, antimony, copper, iron,
coal, diamonds, and other precious stones. Thus
Malaysia is rich in every species of tropical produce,
and, under a better system of rul^, might be made
one of the finest and most desirable regions in the
globe.

The inhaMtants belong to the Malay variety of the
human specii-'s, but break into two or three races, hav-
ing diflTerent depths of colour, straight, crisp, or woolly
hair, and features less or more approaching those of
the negro. They are generally arranged, according to
their languages, into — Malays Proper, Javanese, Bat-
taks, Bugis, Dyaks, Macassars, Sooloos, and other minor
tribes. The foreigners or n on -aborigines are chiefly
Chinese, with a few Siamese, Hindoos, &c. from the

281

OBAUBIBm DrFORMATION FOR TBI PEOPUt.

mi^Und of Asia. Tht rriigton prof«Med by th« M».
IkTi, JftTMMM, ke. ii tli»» of lilMiiiin; Buddhiim «nd
Brahroiniiin hy the Chinaw and Ilindooi; Catholicifiii
ii prftctiied by th« 8p»niih and I'ortuguew lubjecti in
the Philippinai and Timor; Calviniini in the Dutch
Nttlementi; and polythoiitlo idolatry by aliuoBt nil
the independent tribef. There ii nothing like tduea.
tim, Md little deeerving the name of oiTiliiation in
any pftrt. Indu$lrialfy, the RTowing of rice, cotton,
come, ke. the gathering of raw produce, fishing, navi-
gation, and, we may add, piracy, are the mab employ,
mente in rooit of the iilandi.

Ai to govtmrnent, the only clTiliied powen havinc
poweisioni in Malaysia are the Dutch, Spaniards, and
Portuguese. The Dutch possess or domineer over the
whole of Java; the greater part of Sumatra, where they
are continually extending their dominions; the Moluc-
cas, or Spice Isles; and generally exercise a predomi-
nating influence over all the southern portion of the
Archipelago. The Spaniards possess Luxon, and the
greater part of the Philippine group; and the Portu-
Euese retain only a portion of the island of Timor. Dur-
uig the last war, the British deprived the Dutch of Java
and their possessions; but the whole were restore<l at
the peace of 1815; and in 1U25, Bencoolen, and the
other British settlements in Sumatra, were exchanged
with the Dutch for Malacca. Recently (December
1B46) the small but apparently valuable island of
Labuan, off Borneo, has been ceded to Britain, as a
station for the India and China steamers; and impor-
tant results are likely to arise from the procedure of
Sir James Brooke at Sarawak in Borneo.

Britain has thus no direct political sway in Malaysia
— a fact to be regretted, considering how little the
European powers above-mentioned have done for the
development — industrial or social — of these fine and
fertile islands. Had they been retained in 1U15, and
the policy of Sir Stamford Raifles zealously carried out,
this region would have now ranked next in importance
to Hindoostan; for though less extensive, and more
distaul, it is equally fertile in every species of tropical
produce, while its territories would have been preserved
and governed with comparative little trouble or expen-
diture. It is true that Sincapore is the great entrepot
for the produce of the surrounding islands, and thus in
some measure British influence may be felt where it is
not avowed; but until our merchants and traders have
eflfected an absolute location, as is likely soon to be in
Borneo, and until the machinery of a superior civilisa-
tion be brought to bear upon the natural capabilities of
the soil, as well as upon the character of the natives, it
is impossible to regud even the finest of these islands
as other than misappropriated and neglected wastes,

AUSTRALASIA.

A uttralaria, the central and largest section of Oceania,
is situated between the equator and 47° south, and longi-
tude 112* and 180* east, and includes Australia or New
Holland, Van Diemen*! Land, New Zealand, Papua or
New Guinea, New Britain and New Ireland, Solomon's
Islands, New Hebrides, and New Caledonia. Australia
is the chief island in the group, measuring 2400 miles
from east to west, and 1700 from north to south. The
physical character of this vast island or minor conti-
nent, so far as yet explored, seems very peculiar: with
the exception of some hill-ranges, it is generally flat,
or but slightly undulating; and in many places the in-
clination is mward instead of outwards to the sea.
There being a general absence of high grounds, clouds
are not attracted over the land, and there is thus a de-
ficiency of rain; the rivers are for the most part a
series of standing brackish pools, and of no value what-
ever as a means of internal communication. The plains
or grassy flats are of vast extent, and being but par-
tially studded with trees, afford the finest sheep-past'ure
in the world, when not parched by a long-continued
dry season. The climate in the north is strictly tropi-
cal; in the loutheru colonised districts it is wud to m
282

delightful — but liable to somewhat sudden changes,
and oocaaionally to destructive droughts.

The natire veuetation presents few features of interest
— the most valuable being the auracaria or Norfolk
nine; various species of eucalyptus, known as iron-
bark, blue-gum, butted-gum, stringy-bark, Im. ; tha
cedar and turpentine tree; varieties of causurina, aa
forest-oak, swamp-oak, &c.; the sassafras; curragong
or ourdage-tree; and others yielding gums, balsams,
and manna. All the culinary vegetables and fruita
introduced by the British colonists have flourished
amaaingly, and the settlements now enjoy every species
of produce, from the vine, olive, p!n«-apple, «c. down
to the humble gooseberry and raspberry of England.
The original Fauna uf the island is altogether anoma-
lous : with the exception of the native dog or dingo,
and a species of bat, all the quadrupeds are marsupial,
or carry their young in pouches — the common forms
being the kangaroo, womoat, opossum, kc. The orni-
thorhyncus is another of its peculiar forms; as also the
emu, lyre-pheasant, gigantic crane, black swan, bower-
bird, and others. Reptiles are numerous, and some of
them poisonous; fishes are rift along the coasts, as also
whales and seals; shellfish, of beautiful colours and ele-
gant forms, are everywhere to be found ; and insects are
iirolific to a nuisance, the most useful being the native
bees, which are stingless. All the common domesticated
animals have been introduced; and these, especially
sheep and oxen, have thriven amazingly. The geology
of the country is very little known ; but limestone,
marble, bituminous coal, pottery-clay, iron, lead, and
copper — the latter metal in particular — seem to be
abundant in certain localities.

The aborigine* appear to be a deteriorated offshoot
from the Malay variety of our species; ars iu a state of
utter barbarism; and seem destined to disappear before
the white settlers, who are almost wholly British, with
a sprinkling of Jews and Germans. The only European
power having possessions in Australasia is Britain, to
which belong Australia, Van Diemeu's Land, New
Zealand, and the penal settlement of Norfolk Island.
The other islands are very little known, and wholly in
the occupation of the native dark-coloured races.

The settlemenU or colonies are those of New South
Wales, established in 1780; Western Australia in 1828;
South Australia in 1834; and North Australia in 1838.
The adjacent island of Tasmania, or Van Diemen'i Land
(which occupies 24,000 square miles, or somewhat less
than Ireland), is the seat of another British colony,
planted in 1824, and is altogether a thriving settlement
— being more hilly and better watered than Australia.
New Zealand, composed of three contiguous islands,
ranging from 1100 miles in lensth, with a breadth
varying from 5 to 200, is also the seat of a British
colony planted in 1840. The soil is fertile, and capable
of yielding every species of cultivated produce; the cli-
mate mild and equable; and the vegetable and mineral
resources of prime importance. It is to these settle-
ments that we would now specially direct attentiou:—

NEW SOUTH WALIS.

This colony includes a large portion of the east
side of Australia; the settled portions chiefly embracing
the district within 200 miles of the east ooast between
Port Macquarrie in latitude Sl° 27' south, and the
^uroo River in 36"; and the Port Philip district on tha
south ooast. The general appearance of the east coast
from the sea is far from being inviting, presenting im-
mediately on the shore a continuous front of bold clifik
and mural precipices, unbroken for many miles to-
gether; behind these, ogMn, and running generally
parallel with them, at an average distance of about
forty miles, rises a chain of rocky, precipitous, and
almost impassable mountains, extending along the whole
eastern coast. These are called the Blue Mountains,
The unpromising appearance of the shores of New
South Wales is not removed upon landing. For five or
six miles interiorly the land continues barren and
rocky, presenting few other signs of vegetation besides

OOIANU.

Mmt Uiinly-MkttMtd itunttd i .abf mi dwarf undar-
wood. At thii dUUnoa inward a marked ohang* b«gini
to tak« place; the toll improTei, and begini now to be
cnouiiibered with tall and itately troee, which icon
again thicken into a denw but magnificent forett, indi-
catiDg, indeed, a more luxuriant loil than that pawed,
but loarcaly !««• discouraging to the lettler. Advancing
inwardi, however, from tix to nine milei farther, an-
other change takei place. You have cleared the forett,
and the promiied land lies before you, improving with
everj itep you advance ; now preionting an endlew
variety of hill and dale, covered with the moit luxu-
riant vegetation ; now exteniive plaint, retembling the
finett parki in England— a retemLlanoe which it made
the more etriking from their being ainiilarly inter-
tperted with magnifloeut treet, juit numerout enough
to add beauty to the land without encumbering it.
The Port Philip district — the Auttralia Felix of Mi^or
Mitchell, who explored it in 1U3G — it altogether a finer
country, leu arid, more varied, and better wooded, but
not to much to at materially to impede cultivation.

The government of New South Walei it conducted
by a governor and a legitlative and executive council:
both of the two latt, at well at the governor, are ap-
pointed by the minittry at home. The legitlative coun-
cil it composed principally of peraont holding official
tituationt, and thete chiefly reiiding in the government
townt. The executive council, again, it composed of
pertont filling the highest government appointments.
There are, betides, a cTatt of funotionariet called police
magittratei, distributed throughout the colony, and
who take especial cogtiitance of ofiencet committed by
convicts, whom they havo a power to punish by flogging
or condemning to work in iront. Sydney it the uiief
■eat of the colonial government, comprehending the
■upremo court, and the headt of all the civil and mili-
tary ettablithmentt of the country. Being a colony
of Great Britain, the lawt by which New South Wales
it governed are the same in their leading features with
thoie of England, differing only in inttancet where tuch
diflerence wot found necetsary to adapt them to the
peculiaritiet of the country. Population, 1 90,000.

The external and domestic trade of New South Wales
hat scarcely yet emerged from a state of infancy; but
it is fatt gaining strength; and if no unforeieen circura-
itances ihould arise to check its prosperity, it will one
day become, if it it not so oven now, one of the most
important of British settlements. Its leading export
articles are wool, and teal and whale-oils ; a great part
of the latter is of that valuable kind called sperm-oil,
produced by a description of whole found in the South
Seas only. (See No. 44, Vol. I.) In the article of oil,
which has only very lately become an object of serious
consideration to the colonistsi, the improvement has
been remarkably rapid, thoj-? bding recently upwards
of fort^ vessels, averaging a tonnage of nearly 10,000,
belongmg to, and sailing out of, Port Jackson alone,
exclusively engaged in the whale-fishing. A striking
evidence of tho increasing prosperity of the colony, is
the circumstance of its having in four years in some
instances nearly, and in others more than doubled, the
amount of its property in cattle and sheep, and also
in the extent of its cultivated laud.

We need not particularise the great and miscellaneous
import and export trade of the colony, but confine our-
selves to a few leading facts as an evidence of general
prosperity. The imports, which amounted to £280,000
iu 1B26, had increased to £2,462,858 in 1841; whilst
the exports from the colony, including the produce of
the fisheries, had increased from £10(>,600 in the for-
mer year, to £2,004,385 iu 1840. In 1824 the exports
of wool amounted to 275,560 lbs.; in 1840 they were
9,668,960 lbs. In the Savings' Bank of New South
Wales, the deposits increased from £24,469 in Decem-
ber 1835 to £127,000 in August 1840. In 1837 the re-
venue was £226,000; in 1841 it exceeded £270,000.

A large and profitable trade cannot fail to be ulti-
pately established in wine, from vines which have been
introduced as exotics. Already, from grapes grown in

the vlAerards of ih» colony, excellent wini might b*
produced, if anything like sood roanaMment w«r« exer-
cised. From the ncachet of New Soutb Walet the finett
brandy it ditlilled : to superior it this article that, if it
wore allowed to be imported into Qreat Britain, it would
speedily tu)>vrte<ie the uie of the brandies of Fraiice
and other hij^h-priced tpiritt. Silk (from the abundance
of the mulberry) aikd dried fruitt, with other uteful and
valuable articlet, as opium and indigo, for the growth
of which the climate is favourable, will doubtloia by
degrees be produced. At a short diatance from Sydney,
a largo orange grove hat been formed, from which up-
wardt of 100,000 dozent of orangot have been tent into
the market there in a year; and an immenie quantity
of fine grapet are tent by a steamer from Hunter's
River every day in the teaton to the Sydney market.
The only articlet of food in general ute not produced
in the colony, are tea and tugar; but thete are largely
imported, and told at perhaps not the third of tncir
price in this country. In the advcrtinements in tho
Sydney newspapers, we see the same kinds of articles
announced for sale by tradesmen as are seen every*
where iu the wealthiest establishments in Britain.

The production of wool has for some time back been
a primary consideration with the settlers, and they havo
of late begun to pay more attention to the quality than
they did formerly, quantity alone having been at one
time all thev aimed at. From the improvement which
has taken place in the breed of sheep, as well as in the
mode of preparing the wool for the market, Auitralian
wool hat now become an object of nmch interest to the
dealer! and woollen manufucturert in England, where
it is greatlv prized for tho peculiar softnest of the cloth

Eroduced from it, and which, if combined with a little
igher degree of fineness — a retult that mutt soon fol-
low the care and attention that is now bestowed on it
— would place it on a level with the best growths of
other countries, and consequently direct an inexhaus-
tible stream of wealth into the colony ; and there are
two important considerations at this moment operating
to produce this efl'ect. The first of these is the readi-
ness of the market, and the remunerating price which
the settler obtains for his wool ; the next, the necessity
which the distance of the interior settlements from
towns imposes on their occupants, of directing their
whole attention to the rearing of cattle and sheep in
preference to agricultural produce, for which there ia
neither facility of conveyance nor market.

The state of society iu New South Wales has been
to a considerable extent aflected by the transportation
thither of convicts from the United Kingdom, and on
that account is less agreeable than that of colonies free
from this moral stain. The most unhappy circum-
stance connected with the state of general society is,
that the emancipated convicts and their descendants,
however well behaved, aro held as a degraded or infe-
rior class by the free settlers; and thus two factions
have sprung up in the colony, who virulently persecute
each other, and cause dispeace in what would be other-
wise an agreeable condition of affairs. As the settle-
ment of convicts as labourers is abandoned as a practice
unworthy of an enlightened government, it is to be
hoped that the line of distinction between the two
classes of inhabitants will gradually disappear. In
Sydney, where society both bad and good equally
flourishes, there are many hundreds of families of the
highest respectability, enjoying all the elegancies of
refined life, exchanging its courtesies, and cultivating
its amusements and pleasures; splendid equipages are
to be seen rolling along its streets; its public dancing
and assembly rooms blazing with light, and filled, as
our newspapers would say, with * beauty and fashion ;'
music parties and theatricals filling iip the measure
of the happiness of a Sydney life. The population
of Sydney in 1841 was about 30,000; and, as a com-
mercial port, the exports exceeded £1,250,000. Next
to Sydney, Bathurst has probably the highest preten-
sions to a superiority in the general character of its
society, Melbourne, a few miles from Port Philip, ia

283

0HAMBBB8« INrORMATIOM FOR THB PXOPLE.

»Uo rapidlT rUiof into imMrtMMW. In 1049 It* •!•
porta tioMdad £140.000 (induiUng *bout 3,000,000 Ibi.
wool), Mid it! UnpaxU ^eSM.OOO.

In Now South \V»1m thtra »r» Mvenl infMit leheoli,
and about fortjr p»ro«hiftl Nhoobt Mid »lio (wo govcrii.
intnt Mhool*. An orphan hofpit*! hM bMn MUblUhtd
«t Sydnoy, cnpkblo of rMfinf and oducktlnft I 'iS ohildrvii .
The malo chudren of this iiiitUutioii nro •pprenticod
out M they eouie of age, uud the females reoelve a
■mall luiii when married. The Auitrallau College
waa eitabliihed in 1U31, and i« now in a ilourithing
condition. Ujr nieana of a large and regular import
of Engliah literature, the tone of feeling and general
intelleet of the colony cannot fail to a<lvanco in a
jtwely increasing ratio. With reiiiect to the meana
adopted for austaining religious uiu moral culture, we
roajr mention that there is no lack of ohurohes Mid
chapela where thejr are required.

SOUTH AVSTUALIA.

South Auatralia ia a large diatrict of country, lying
on the southern ahore of the Auatralian continent, be-
tween the Swan River aettlunient or Weatem Auatralia
on the weat, and New South Waloa on the eaat. It ia
contained within the 2(ith and 36th degreea of aouth
latitude, and forma a territory of nearly :tOU,000 square
milea, or 192,000,000 acres, being nearly double the
diiuenaiona of the British isles. It is penetrated from
the sea by Spencer's Uulf and Gulf St Vincent, at the
entrance of which lies Kaugnruo Island. The country
from the eastern side of Oulf St Vincent is very pic-
turesque ; being in general well wooded, with consider-
able spaces of open country. This rendera it admirably
adapted for aheep-farming. Mid in many places the
land is ready for the plough. About ten or twelve
miles inland runa a range of hills, most of which are
good soil to tho top, and ofturd abundance of food for
cattle. The highest of these is Mount Lofty, about
2400 feet above the level of the sea.

Oulf St Vincent is described as without an island,
rock, reef, or sandbank, and almost any part of it ia
perfectly aafe anchorage all the year round. Spencer'a
Uulf runs nearly 300 miles into the interior, becoming

auito narrow and shallow at the to)>. It abounds with
at fish ; but the country around ia deficient in fresh
water, and but a small portion of the aoil ia capable of
cultivation. The great want of thia colony ia rivers, bv
which an intercourse with the interior could be efi'ected.
The largest river is the Murray, which is described by
Mr James as being, for the last 200 miles of its course,
nearly as broad as the Thames at London Bridge. <Jn
the banks of this river Me several fine alluvial flats,
at present covered with reeds, but which are capable
of being made to yield abundant crops of grain. These
flata are nearly on a level with the river, and could be
irrigated at any aeaaon. The Murray delivera ita watera
into Lake Alexandrina, which also receivea the watera
of the Hiudmarsh,aud from thence to the sea the river
is broad and deep. The next river ia the Torrena, on
the banka of which atauda the town of Adelaide, the
capital of the colony. The site of the town ia well
chosen as to the healthiness of the situation, but labours
under the disadvantage of being six wiles from the har-
bour, betwixt which and the town the carriage of goods
is very expensive. The harbour ia perfectly aafe for
ahipping, but there ia a bar at the entrance which pre-
renta very lar^e ahina from entering. The great ob-
jection to the aite of the town ia the want of good water,
which can only be obtained by boring to the depth of
about forty feet, or taking it from the Torrena, which
degenerates into alraoat atagnant poola in the dry aeaaon.
The town of Adelaide has aeveral good atone and brick
housea, and the chumhea and public officea are de-
scribed aa handsome buildings. The river Qlenelg, at
the eastern boundary of the colony, ia of oonaiderable
aize during the winter months, but ia almoat dry in
summer. Lake Victoria ia a aheet of water about 20
milea long and 7 broad, communicating with the Mur-
ray River by a atream called the Rufui. Ita buika
284

abound with good pMtnragt, Mid the eottntry arovnd
ia well adapted for agricultural operationa.

Much has been written upon the aoil of South Aus-
tralia. On the one hand, it baa been lauded aa the
flnaat apot in the world, and on the other decried aa
not worth tho trouble of cultivation. From the best
authorities we have been able to consult, there appears
to be very little of what can be called really barren
land. The principal part of it is fit for grazing sheep
and cattle, and there are many parts which would yield
an abundant return of grain if subjected to the plough.
From the want of mountains, the country is very ireo
from rains ; even the rivers become comparatively dry
during summer. These deficiencies are, in fact, the
grand drawbacks upon this otherwise fine colonr, which
IS directed by a governor and council, much in the same
way as New South Wales. The usual course of trade
is similar to that at Fort Philip; the population in
1H42 waa estimated at 16,000; the inipoHs from Britain
at £23,000; and the exjporta at £34,000. The whole of
the purobaao-money or public and waate iMida being
expended on the immigration of free labourers, and no
convict labour permitte<l, South Australia oflera certain
advantages above Now South Wales.

WEiTUCI AUSTRALIA.

Thia colony, which is entirely distinct firom New
South Wales, includes the settlements at Swan River,
King George's Sound, and Port Orey. Swan River
settlement takes its name, as is obvious, from the river
in whose vicinity it is. This river is situated on the
south-west coast of Australia, a little way north of the
most extreme southern point, on the west side of the
island. Its neighbourhood was first proponed as a place
of settlement in the year IU28, when Captain Stirling
was appointed lieutenant-governor.

The soil appears, and really is, until you have gone
about fifteen or twenty miles inland, extremely poor
and barren. At this distance from the coast, however,
it greatly improves, exhibiting many beautiful and fer-
tile tracts, and bearing some of the most magnificent
trees in the world, llore, also, is the same profusion
of those gorgeous flowers which form so remarkable a
feature of the natural vegetable productions of New
South Wales and Van Diemen's Land. Its animal
productions arc entirely similar to those of the two
former colonies, and it is equally ftee from any that
are dangerous to man. The heat, however, would
appear to be more oppressive than in either of the
places just named. The climate, however, is exceed-
ingly salubrious. Not only have no complaints of any
kind whatever, attributable to the country, appeared
amongst the colonists, but thoy are enabled to bear ex-
posures with impunity, which, in most other climates,
might be attended with the most serious consequences.
The best laud, indeed the only land, yet discovered
sufficiently neiir the settlement worth cultivating, is on
the banks of the Swan River, and on those of an ad-
joining river called the Canning ; but even there it
rarely extends on cither side more than two miles from
the stream, and not often so far, and all this land has
been already located. There is, however, reason to be-
lieve that good tracta of country are to be found in the
interior. The preaaure of emigration, and more leiaure
on the part of thoae already there, will no doubt very
aoon extend the dependenciea of the aettlement. Mid
lead to aome valuable acquiaitiona of country.

There are already several thriving little towns in the
colony, amongst these Freemantle and Perth; the for-
mer the port, being built at the mouth of the Swan
River, and the latter the gapital. The site of Perth ia
represented as happily chosen. It is situated on a
picturesque spot on the north bank of the river, about
twelve or fifteen miles above Freemantle. At King
George's Sound on the south coast are the lesser town-
ships of Albany and Augusta. Latest statistics give
the population at 4500 ; live-stock, 46,000 ; official
value of imports about £1500; of exports, £24,000;
revenue upwarda of £10,000.

OOIANIA.

wns in the
It ; the for-
the Swan
)f Perth ii
ated oil a
^ver, about
At King
iger tovrn-
istici give
; official
£24,000;

A$ to North Aiutmli*, wboM only Mltlement ii in
(he neighbourhood of I'ort Eieiugtoii, too Utile hM a*
jrct been aoenmplithed tu afford ground for aojr deiinite
opinion. At AlrraUj remarked, the northern Motion of
Auitralia it alnioel ttrlclljf tropical, thue preeentiiig
producta and capabiUtie* totally different from thnie
to which our rountryiuen hare been aocuttoiiied either
at home or in the othec colon iei of the mother country.

VAN IIIKMtri't LAMO.

Van Dieineu'i Laud, an already itated, ia an iiland
Iring off the loutheru eitreraity of the mainland of
Auitralia, from which it ie lepa.'cted by a channel I'JO
milci broad, called DaM'i 8trait. Iti eituation U be-
tween latitude 41° and 44" MUth, and between longi-
tude 144* 40' and 140° '20' eait. the length of the
iiland ii about 210 uiilei, and ila breadth 150. It waa
tint diicovered in the year l(i4'.2 by Abel Janien Tat-
man, a celebrated Dutch navigator, and waa by him
called Van Dienien'i Land, in honour of Anthony Van
Diemen, at that time governor-seneral of the Dutch
poitetiioni in the Eait Iiulies. Nothing, however, im-
mediately retulted from thiidiicovery, and for upwardi
of a hundred yean the itland waa loat tight of. In
1779 it waa vitited by Captain Furneau, the firat
Knglith navigator who had ever touched at it; after
tbie it wai vitited from time to time by several oele-
brated navigaton, and aniongtt thete by Captain Cook,
in the year 1777. It wae not, however, until 1)103
that any lettlenient waa made upon the itland ; in that
year it wat formally taken potiosiion of by Lieutenant
Bowera, aa a receptacle for convicts, with a party from
Port Jackton, in New iiouth Walet, where a penal ettab-
liihroent had been alrewly fixvd ; and to tnia purpote
Van Diemen't Land waa oxcluiively devoted until IHIO,
when it waa thrown open to free tuttlen.

The continent of Auttralia and Van Diemen't Land
are totally different in character, the one being flat and
ill-watered, to aa to be tuitable chietly for paituring,
while the other it inountainout, and more resembling
Ireland or Scotland. The appearance of Van Diemen't
Land from the tea ia exceedingly pictiiretque, preaont-
ing an endlete luccetaion of lofty niountaina, covered
to their tummiti with wood ; while tall rucks and pre-
cipicei, glens and hilla, oontributo to incronnu the
iuterett of thii romantic island. Nor doet a nearer
iutpeotion materially alter this seneral character of tli«
toene. On traveriing the itland, it it found to pretont
a conitant alternation of hill and dale, with occaaional
flats or plains ; but these are comparatively few in
number, though some of them are of great extent, con-
sisting in several instances of not less than from IIOOO
to 10,000 acres, and one in particular ia said to bo <i
miles in length, and from 2 to 3 in breadth. These
plains are in general exceedingly fertile, and being
often but thinly intenpersed with trees, present a
moat delightful appearance. There are some of them,
again, very poor, presenting a cold thin soil of little
value. Van Diemen'a Land, though it cannot l)e called
a well-watered country, is yet much superior in thia
respect to New South Wales.

In another imi>ortant particular this island is pecu-
liarly fortunate — that ia, in the number and capacity
of ita harbours, no place of similar extent in the world
probably being equal to it in thia respect. The prin-
cipal harbours are — the Derwent on ita southern side.
Port Davey and Macouarrie Harbour on the western,
Port Sorrel and Port Dalrymple on the northern, and
Oyster Bay and Great Swan Port on the eastern coaat.
Besides these, there are many other harboun, bavs,
and creeks, distributed all adongst its shores. The
coaat ia in general high and rocky, particularly on the
south, east, and western sidea of tne ialand: on the
north, however, it preaenta a line of low alternate sandy
beaches, on which the surf rolls with great impetuoaity
•luring the prevalence of northerly winda. From the
extremely hilly nature of the country, there ia but a
comparatively small proportion of it adapted for the
plough, though presenting abundance of excellent paa*

tuntge. The extent of really available land threughnnt
the island has been estiniattd at one-third of the whole,
and this it again tlivlded into four parts, giving one
for the plough, and the other three for pasture : thus
out of IU4M> aores of land, about 100 will be found flt
for oultlvalion, and iVom iVH} to 400 for grasing.

The climate of Van IHemen'i Land ia exceedingly
pleasant and salubrious, and is eipcoiully adapted to
the "onititutiont of the natives of (Jreat Britain ; the
h '<.!•( .'I lumnier is not to interne at that of Auttralia,
no4 often much turpatsing that of London or the
southern parts of Kneland; while the mornings and
eveningi, even at the hottest neriodi of the year, are
always cool and agreeable. The cold in winter, how-
ever, though mild when cniuparetl to what we expe-
rience at that suaton, it more interne and of longer
duration than that of Auitralia, mow lyini; frequently
on the higher mountaint throughout the greater part
of the year; but in the valleyt and lower diitrictt it
teldom reniaini more than a few houn. There have not
yet appeared any diieanct which can be taid to be
peculiar either to the climate or to the ialand; and, on
the whole, the chancetof life are eitiniated to be con-
tiderably more in favour of Van Diemen't Land than
of Britain, or any other of the moat healthy parts of
Kurope. It is not subject to any extremes of heat or
cold: the seasons are regular, mild, and agreeable; the
atniosphcro constantly pure and elastic; and the sky
clear, unclouded, and brilliant.

The iiland uossciies a considerable variety of treea
and thrubt. The gum-tree U the largest; and there
are numerous othen well adapted for shin and house
building. The trees are all i. and sti-aight, branch*
ing only at the top, and they are nearly all evergreens.
All the vegetables and fruits known and cultivated in
Knglaud and Scotland are raised without difficulty —
apples, pears, plums, gooseberries, &c. to which the
warmer temperature ot Australia is unfavourable, are
produced here in great abundance, and of excellent
(quality. Both the climate and the soil are sufficiently
favourable to the production of most deicrintions of
grain ; wheat is found to thrive remarkably well ;
potatoes are in general a good crop, and of excellent
quality. The island is altogether, in short, lit fur all
tne purpoiet of agriculture aimed at in thii country,
being neither more nor leu . favourable to them, but ni
all retpects nearly the tame; ita climate being ours,
only somewhat moditied, and its soil in general not
materially diflering in quality. In July, August, and
September, which ui-e the s])ring months, the farmer
sows his grain; in October he prepares the land for
Swediah tumipa; in November he gets in hia potato
and turnip cropa; December is the Iteightof hia hay
harvest; at about the middle of January his wheat
harvest commences, and continues through February ;
in Ma.'ch he paya attention to hia fallowing and hus-
bandry; in April he gathers hia second crop of potatoes;
in May he lays down hia grasses; and in June he con-
tinues his ploughing and harrowing. He has thus a
continual round of pleasurable occupation in his fields.
Till the year 1 825, Van Diemen't Land was a depen-
dency of the colony of New South Wales, but in that
year it received a government of ita own. The internal
policy of the ialand is now conducted by a lieutenant-
governor, and an executive and legialative council.
There are also here a chief-justice, attorney -general,
and all the other appendages of a supreme court of
judicature, courts of requests, attorneys, barristers, soli-
citors, proctors, sheriffs, justices of the peace, and the
whole paraphernalia of civil and criminal jurispru-
dence known in this country. There are, besides, as
in New South Wales, a number of police ma^stratea,
each having a separate district under hia judicial au-
thority ; these are, as in the former case, stipendiary.
The laws are the same with those in England, in as
far aa the circumstances of the colony will admit.

Society in Van Diemen's Land, like that of New
South Wales, is made up of free settlers who have
emigrated from this country, and of convicts. There

CHAMBERS^ INFOBKATIOK FOB THE PEOPLE.

are no ftborigioM now in V»n Diomon'i Land, theie
having been lately conveyed to an island in Ban's
Strait, and an order has been issued b^ the home
coTemment for their removal to Port Philip district.
New South Wales. Regarding the bush-rangers, or
runaway convicts, ftom the effwtive police force kept
up, their depredations are confined to the less-popu-
latsd districts, and even there they seldom exist long
without beinc captured.

The capitu of the colony is Hobart Town, situated
on the left bank of the river Derwent, at the head
of a beautiful bay, distant about twent;|r miles from
its junction with the sea. The town is pleasantly
situated on a gently rising ground, which, gradually
retiring, terminates ultimately in hills of considerable
height, covered with wood, and presenting a most ro-
mantic appearance. These again are overlooked by
one of still greater altitude, called Mount Wellinston,
which rises to the height of 4000 feet above the level
of the sea. Hobart Town is thus happily placed be-
tween highly-picturesque hills on the one hand, and
a beautiful bay or arm of the sea on the other; for,
though the Derwent be here called a river, it can be
so called only in a very extended sense, the water being
still salt, and of considerable width. The town itself
co.ers somewhat mere than a square mile of ground;
the houses are principally constructed of wood, though
many of them are of brick and freestone. The streets
are regularly laid out, and thone of them th at have been
completed are macadamised, and present on either side
long rows of large and handsome shops. The town de-
rives a peculiar and highly pleasing character too from
the circumstance of the houses in general standing
apart from each other, each having a small plot of
ground, from a quarter to half an acre in extent, at-
tached to it. Its public buildings are numerous, and
many of them would be considered handsome even
in Britain. The town contains breweries, tanneries,
distilleries, flour-mills, two or three banks, hospitals,
churches, schools, charitable and stipendiary, inns,
taverns, hotels, and grog-shops ad infinitum, and every-
thing else which bespeaks a thriving, bustling, indus-
trious, and civilised commuvitpy.

The town next in importance to the capital is Laun-
ceston, situated at the junction of the North and South
Esk, at the head of the navigable portion of the river
Tamar, which discharges itself into Bass's Strait, about
forty-five miles below the town. The town presents a
rery business-like appearance, with its shipping, wharfs,
■tores, and public buildings, all calculated to impress
the stranger even on a cursory glance with a high idea
of its rising impoHance. From the favourable nature
of its situation for commercial purposes, the river being
navigable for vessels of 600 tons burthen up to the
town, the tr«de of Launceston is very considerable,
and is every day increasing.

The population of the colony in 1842 was estimated
at 50,216 ; but must now be considerably increased,
both from the natiir»l progress of population, and the
influx of additional immigrants. In 1839, the land-
sales amounted to 42,386 acres, at the average of
10s. 2d.; and in 1840 to 88,296 .teres, at lis. 4d., exclu-
sive of town lots and military grants. The principal
exports are wheat, wool (in 1841, 8,597,631 lbs.), whale-
oil, bark, kc, amounting in 1840 to £867,000 ; and the
imports, comprising all kinds of British manufactures,
oolonial products, spirits, wines, farming implements,
ftc. to £988,356. In 1842 the oflicial value of exports
to the United Kingdom was £134,160; and that of
the imports from the United Kingdom £260,730. At
present the annual revenue of the colony is about
£100,000, and the expenditure about £13u,000. The
leading, if not the only misfortune under which Van
Diemen't Land labours, is a deficiency of good roads.

H>W ZRALAIID.

New 2!ea1and consists mainly of two large islands,
called the Middle Island and the North Island, sepa-
Mted by a paawge called Cook'i Straits- with numerous
388

smaller islee eeattered around their shores. They lie
in the great southern ocean in an easterly direction
fh>m Austnlifs and at a distance of about 1200 miles
fh>m that continent. The New Zealand islands are
situated between the 84th and 48tli degrees of south
latitude, and the 166th and 179th of east longitude.
The Middle Island is about 500 miles long, and from
100 to 120 broad. The northern island is the smaller,
being about 400 miles long, and from 5 to 30 broad;
both being estimated to contain nearly 95,000 square
miles, of which two -thirds are fit fbi- cultivation.
New Zealand was first discovered in 1642 by Tasman,
who, however, did not land, supposing it to fbrm
a part of the southern continent. Captain Cook first
sailed round the islands, and surveyed their shored
with so much accuracy, thut his charts ate depended
upon even to the present day. The distance of New
Zealand from Great Britain is rather more than to
New South Wales, or about 16,000 miles, but ik
reached by the same line of voyage round the Cape of
Good' Hope, the return being by Cape Horn. Vessels
reach New Zealand fVom Sydney in ten or twelve days.

New Zealand is evidently of volcanic origin, there
being many extinct and a few active volcanoes in the
interior of the islands. Hot springs have also been
found, some of which are described as higher than boil-
ing heat, and most of them of a suflicient temperature
to cook any kind of native food. A chain of mountains
runs through the whole of the southern, and a consi-
derable part of the northern island. Some of these
mountains are as high as 14,000 feet above the level
of the sea, their tops being covered with perpetual
snow, and their sides with forest-trees and luxuriant
fem«. Besides this chain of mountains, there are other
subordinate ranges, which, for the most pttrk, are covered
with vegetation to the summit.

There are numbers of fine streams and rivers scat-
tered throughout the country, which have their origin
in these mountains. Several of the rivers are navi-
gable to a small extent, and possess waterfalls which
afford the means of establishing mills in most parts of
the country. From the shape of the islands, and the
mountains which intersect them, the rivers do not run
to any great length, from 100 to 200 miles being the
average. In 1838, the ship Pelorus entered a river in
the southern island falling into Cook's Straits, and
sailed up more than 30 miles, and her boats conti-
nued the navigation for 20 miles farther. The river
Hokianga, in the northern island, situated almost oppo-
site the Bay of Islands, has been navigated 30 miles
by vessels of 500 tons burthen. Another river, the
Haritoua, which falls into Port Nicholson, is said to
be navigable for a considerable distance inland.

The bays and harbours of New Zealand are not sur-
passed either in number or advantages by those of any
country in the world. Beginning with the North laland,
we have first the harbour of Wangaroa, the entrance to
which is narrow; but inside, the harbour is spacious and
well-sheltered. The Bay of Islands is about 25 miles
south of Wangaroa, and is the harbour which has been
hitherto most frequented by Europeans. The entrance
to the bay is 11 miles broad, and perfectly safe, there
being no bar. Inside, the bay is studded with a number
of rocky islands; the water is deep close to the shore,
and the anchorage is excellent. To the south of the Bay
of Islands is the Firth of the Thames, which contai:)S
several well-protected harbours. The tide flows in this
firth to the height of from 8 to 1 feet, and at all times
there is plenty of water for ships of almost any tonnage.
The Bay of Plenty, on the north-east coast, is formed
by the island becoming much broader in a curved
direction. This bay is very large, and possesses an
excellent harbour called Tauranga, which is much iVe-
quented for the shipment of flax, ke. Hawke's Bay
is very extensive and deep, the soundings showing from
6 to 27 fathoms water. The most important hafbour
in the northern island if Port Nicholson, situated in
Cook's Straits. The bay is about 12 miles long and 8
broad, perfectly sheltered, and (hipt may enter or leare

OCEAKIA.

Bf. Thejr lie
irly direction
It 1200 milei
1 islands are
rees of loutk
«t longitude.
ng, and from
! the (mailer,
to 30 broad;
)5,000 square
r cultiration.
i by Tasman,
I it to fbrm
un Cook flnt

their E>horM
are depended
mice of New
more than to
niles, but it
d the Cape of
lorn. Vetsela
r twelve day*.

origin, there
canoes in the
ATe also been
;her than boil-
it temperature
1 of mountains
, and a consi-
jome of these
l>oTe the lerel
rith perpetual
uid luxuriant
Jiere are other
kit, are covered

id rivers seat-
re their origin
vers are navi-
iterfalls which
most parte of
iands, and the
era do not run
ilea being the
red a river in
Straits, and
boats conti-
The river
almost oppo-
ated 30 miles
her river, the
on, is said to
nland.

are not sur-

, those of any

North Island,

i« entrance to

spacious and

kbdut 25 milea

hich has been

The entrance

tly safe, there

'ith a number

to the shore,

th of the Bay

hich contains

, flows in thit

d at all times

any tonnage.

ast, is formed

in a curved

possesses an

is much iVe-

Hawke's Bay

showing from

tant harbour

situated in

long and S

kter or leave

with any wind. The depth of water is from 7 to 11
fathoms, and the whole bay is described as of sufficient
capacity to hold a navy. Port Nicholson has the dis-
advantage of being upon a lee shore, but this objection
«an only have weight with regard to th)> navigation of
Cook's Straits^ not to vessels lying in the port itself.
On the west ooi-«t of the North Island the harbours
have generally a bar at the entrance, which render
their navigation more dangerous than those on the east
coast. The best harbour on the west coast is that of
Hokianga. It revoives the river of the same name, and
a number of smaller streams; and from all accounts it
teems to be a valuable district for settlement. There
ia a bar at the entrance with 3 fathoms water at low
ebb; but the tide rises 12 feet, and inside the harbour
deepens to 17 fathoms. To the south of Hokianga
occurs the harbour of Kaipara, which is 80 miles long,
«nd receives the waters of three considerable streams.

In the middle island, within Cook's Straits, it the
fine harbour of Queen Charlotte's Sound, which is
nearly 30 miled long. Ship Cove, within this sound, is
a very fine harbour, to which European vessels have
long repaired, in consequence of its having been de-
scribed by Captain Cook. The harbour is perfectly
sheltered, and the soundinn show 10 fathoms a cable's
length from the shore. At the north-western extre-
mity of this island is Cloudy Bay, which runs 15 miles
inland, and is about 4 miles broad. Besides these two
harbours, there are many others in the island, such as
Lookert-on Bay, Port Gore, and Blind Bay; all afford-
ing fadlities for roadsteads and harbours.

From the position of New Zealand being north and
south, it presents great variety of climate considering
the size of the countnr. All accounts agree, however,
in describing it as highlf salubrious, and very congenial
to European constitutic^iis. Spring commences in the
middle of August; summer in DMember; autumn in
March; and winter in July. During winter the tem-
perature ranges from 40° to 50° in some parts, and in
others the average is higher. In summer the ther-
mometer ranges from 64° to 80°, which is the highest
temperature given. Mr Yate, in his Account of
New Zealand, speaking of the climate, says — * Those
who come here sickly are soon restored to health; the
healthy become robust, and the robust fat. North of
the Thames snows are unknown; and frosts are off the
groand by nine o'clock in the morning. The country,
during six months in the year, is subject to heavy gales
from the east and north-east, which generally last for
three days, and are accompanied with heavy falls of
rain. In the winter season the moon rarely either
changes or wanes without raising one of these tempes-
tuous gales; and during the whole year the wind is
sure to blow, though it may be only for a few hours,
■from the east, every full and change of the moon.
The spring and autumn are delightfully temperate,
but lubject to showers from the west-south-west. In-
deed, however fine the summer may be, wo are fre-
quently visited by refreshing rains, which give a pecu-
liar richness to the vegetation and fertility of the land.
The prevailing winds are from the south-west and north-
west, which, within this range, blow upwards of nine
months in the year; more ^quently the wind is due
west. During five months sea-breezes set in from either
coast, and meet each other half way across the island.'
The climate of New Zealand has one great advantage
over that of Australia, in not being subject to the
severe droughts which so often destroy the hopes of the
farmer in that country. Its insular position, and the
lofty mountains which intersect the country, insure it
a constant supply of rain. This circumstance gives it
a decided superiority over Australia in an agricultural
point of view, rendering it more suitable for the growth
of grain; though we are not aware of its being greatly
superior to Van Diemen's Land. It does not appear
that there are any diseases peculiar to the climate of
New Zealand: all accounts i^iree in describing the in-
habitants as a robust, and healthy -looking people.
Captain Cook layi he never taw ft liDgle penon among

them who appeared to have an3r bodil; complaint; and
their wounds healed with attoniihing rapidity.

The soil of New Zealand appears in almost evenr
part to be excellent, well adapted for cultivating all
sorts of grain, and indeed most European vegetable*.
Around the mountain! the soil is tolcanic, somewhat
resembling that of some parts of Italy. In other patts
it appear) to be a fine stiff loam and vegetable mould,
very productive. Captain Cook, describing the valley*,
says — * The soil in these valleys and in tne plaint, of
which there are manv that are not overgrown irith
wood, is in general light but fertile; and in the opinion
of Mr Banks and Dr Solander, at well as of every
other gentleman on board, every kind of European
grain, plant, and fruit, would flourish here in the
utmost luxuriance.' The natives cultivate the potato
in considerable quantities, which yields them a good
crop without much trouble. There is also plenty of
fine open land, consisting of alluvial soil deposited
fh>m tne mountains, which would yield abundant crops
of wheat, maize, barley, and other grains. In other
parts the soil consists of a deep stiff vegetable mould
on a marly subsoil, capable of being slaked with the
ashes of the fern. Mr Yate says — ' All English grames
flourish well, but the white clover never seeds : and
where the fern has been destroyed, a strong native
grass, something of the nature of the Canaty grass,
grows in its place, and effectually prevents the fern
from springing up again. Every diversity of European
fruit and vegetable flourishes in New Zealand.'

The forest-trees grow to a very great size, many of
them being larger than those of America or any country
in the world — a sure proof of the fertility of the soil.
The largest tree is that called the kauri, belonging to
the pine tribe. It grows in some cases to the height
of eighty or ninety fbet without branching, and the
branches themselves may be compared to ordinary
trees. The trunk is of immense girth, and the wood
tough and light, being admirably adapted for ship-
building, or almost any other purpose. Another tree,
called the totara, reaches a height of from fifty to sixty
feet, and a circumference of twent v fbet. Its wood is
very hard, of a red colour, works easily, and from its
size and strength may be applied to many useful pur-
poses. The pnriri, or New Zealand oak, is a tree of
great hardness and durability, the wood being of a
dark -brown colour, and capable of taking on a beautiful
polish. It has been known to remain twenty years
under ground, in a vret soil, without rotting. The
farairi, a tree of the laurel tribe, reaches the great
height of from fifty to seventy feet, while its diameter
is not more than three feet. It hat a very beau-
tiful appeamnce, and is one of the chief ornaments of
the woods, but does not appear to be applied to any
usefhl purpose. Besides these, there are many other
trees in New Zealand, especially the pines, which are
said to afford very superior timber for ship and house
buildin.-^, and also funiiture-making.

The x'hormtum tenax, or New Zealand flax, is another
important vegetable production, which is likely to form
an article of considerable export. It is said to resemble
the garden iris in appearance, having a green thick leaf
from six to ten feet long, and growing in the greatest
luxuriance throughout the country. The fibres of the
leaf of this plant are used for making ropes, and man^
competent judges state that it is better adapted for thiB
purpose than the European flax. Mr Ward thus sums
up his account of the vegetable productions: — ' New
Zealand is fitted by nature for the production in abun-
dance of those three articles which have always been
regarded as the especial signs of the plentv, wealth,
and luxury of the country — com, wine, ana oil. Its
fertile plains adapt it to the easy cultivation of grain,
for the surplus production of which it will possess a
ready market, from its vicinity to New Soutn Wales
and Van biemen's Land, where, from the high profit*
of wool-growing, grain from foreign countiies will al-
ways find a ready demand. The vine hat also been
tried, and found to thrive luxuriantly in both islands.'

287

CHAHBEBffS INFOBMATION FOB THE FBOPLB.

The very circuiniUnce of New Zealuid being raited
for the cultivation of grain, renden it unfit for ever
becoming an exteniive graiiug country, at leait for the
growth of the fine wooU of Australia. The following
remarki from the Sydney Herald newipaper were
written by a perron who had viiited New Zealand on
Mven diflerent oocaiioni: — 'New Zealand ii fitted by
nature to become the garden of New South Wale*: the
fertility of the soil, the excellence of the climate, and,
above all. the regularity of the seasona, emiuentlpr com-
bine to fit it for an agricultural country. But it is only
as an agricultural settlement that New Zealand con
flourish; as a pastoral country, it can never compete
with New South Wales. The experiment has again and
again been tried, and the result has invariably been
the same. The climate is too moist for sheep pastures;
and the fine wool for which New South Wales is so
remarkable, speedily deteriorates in quality on the
transportation of the sheep to New Zealand.'

Littie definite is known of the mineral productions
of New Zealand. Iron and coal are found in abund-
- ance, along with bitumen, freestone, marble, sulphur,
and copper. A blue pigment made use of by the
natives is said to be manganese, and there is a valuable
green stone (nephrite) found exclusively in the middle
island, which, when polished, excels in beauty many
of our finer marbles. There is also abundance of clay
fit for brick-making and earthenware.

There are no native quadrupeds in New Zealand,
those at present existing having been left b^ Captain
Cook and other Europeans during their visits to the
islands. Pigs are numerous, having spread very rapidly
throughout the country. They are said to grow to an
enormous size, and are highly valued by the natives.
Dogs abound, especially about the Bay of Islands; and
cats are also plentiful, and are eaten by the natives.
The cattle which have been introduced by the mission-
aries are said to thrive well. Sheep have aUo been
tried, and ia some open parts succeeded ; but New
Zealand, as already stated, is more of an agricultural
than a pastoral country. The only reptile yet seen in
the islands is a small species of lizard. Birds are very
numerous, and are described by all travellers as beau-
tiful songsters. Amongst the feathered tribe may be
mentioned ducks, geese, woodcocks, snipes, curlews,
and wood-pigeons, as affording food to man. Some of
the birds are very remarkable. One, called by the
natives the tui, has the power of imitating the notes of
all the other birds with great exactness. Another,
called the kiwi, is about the size of a young turkey,
and its plumage resembles that of the Australian emu,
being long, straight, and coarse. It has neither wings
nor tail, but runs with great swiftness along the ground,
and can only be caught by dogs. Fish are very abun-
dant ail round the coast, and are of most excellent
quality. Whales also frequent the coasts of New
Zealand for the purpose of calving, and are caught in
large numbers. This trade alone is very considerable,
and would no doubt be greatly extended were settle-
ments more numerous in the country.

The aboriginal natives of New Zealand were formerly
savage and dangerous, but are now partially iiiiproved,
and Harmless in disposition. From all accounts they
ate susceptible of much greater improvement than
the natives of Australia, b«ing ready in apprehension
and tractable. They generally dwell in siiiall villages.
In their intercourse with Europeans, the New Ma-
landers have on all occasions manifested a desire to
learn, and great aptitude in acquiring civilised customs.
Regarding the amount of the native population, it con
on^ be guessed at — probably about 90,000.

The first attempt to colonise New Zealand was made
in Itt2.%, by a company under the auspices of the Earl
of Durham. Two vessels were despatched to the country
by this company, and some land was acquired at Herd's
Point on the Hokianga River, but the idea of settling
i'i was soon after abandoned. Meanwhile the mis-
sionaries had acquired considerable tracts of land in
difierent parts of the islands, and introduced many
?d8

farming improvements, along with the religious in>
struction which they bestowed upon the natives. A
companjr, called the New Zealand Association, was
started in 1837 ; and another, under the name of the
New Zealand Colonisation Company, in 1838. These
companies may be said to have merged in a New
Zealand Company, which was established in May 1839,
and which, since that period, has been actively engaged,
after many obstructions both from the natives and
from the home government, in establishing settlements
chiefly in Cook's Straits, as Wellington, Nelson, &c.
In 1840 a regular colonial government was established,
after the model of the Australian settlements, with
Auckland in the northern island as the capital. Va-
rious settlements have since been effected in both
islands — the most recent being that of Otago, ou the
eastern coast of the middle island, under the auspices
of the New Zealand Company and the Lay Association
of the Free Church of Scotland.

In 1842 the colonial population was estimated at
17,000, but must now exceed 23,000. In the same
year the value exported to Britain was £10,998, while
the imports from Britain amounted to £42,753.

FOLYNESIA.

Polynesia — from two Greek words, ngnifying mcmy
isles — is the name given to the numerous groups scat-
tered over the central parts of the Pacific Oosan, within
30 degrees on both sides of the equator. The chief
clusters north of this line are the Smdwieh in the east,
and the Ladrones and Carolines in the west; and south
of it, the Marqueaas in the east, the Society Islands in
the middle, and the Friendly, including^ the Fejee and
Navigators', in the west. Th^ Sandwicn, Society, and
Marquesas Islands are of volcanic origin — steep, rugged,
and lofty; the active craters of Owhyhee being 13,000,
14,000, and 16,000 feet above the sea level, and the
verdant and wooded heights of Tahiti rising to an
elevation of 10,000 feet. The other groups, with few
exceptions, are entirely of coral formation, elevated but
a few feet above the sea, and appearing as long narrow
reefs, circular reefs enclosing lagoons, or barrier reefs
encircling inner islets, from which they art) separated
by deep narrow channels.

Situated within the tropics, but with an atmosphere
tempered by the surrounding ocean, and in the larger
islands by the above-mentioned mountains, the climate
is delightful, and the soil exceedingly fertile. Among
the native productions are the bread-fruit, cocoa, banana,
pandanus, plantain, and a variety of tropical fruits;
the taro, yam, batata, and other farinaceous roots.
Among those successfully introduced are the orange,
lemon, sugar-cane, cotton, potato, melon, cucumber,
guava, &c. The only quadrupeds found on the islands
when first visited by Europeans were hogs, dogs, and
rats; but birds were numerous, consisting of {>oultry,
pigeons, turtle-doves, parrots, and other tropical genera.
The shores abound with seafowl; and the sea teems with
a vast variety of fishes, shellfish, Crustacea, turtles, seals,
and cetacea. The ox and horse have been brought to
some of the larger islands from Europe or from Americiv.

The natives seem to belong to the Malay variety of
the human race, and have generally been found much
more tractable than the barbarous tribes in other parts
of the world. When first discovered, they were wholly
idolatrous, addicted to cannibalism, inmnticide, and
similar vices; to the superstition of fetish and taboo;
and to the fashion of tatooing. Within the last forty
years a large proportion of the inhabitants of the Sand-
wich, Society, and Friendly Islands have embratied
Christianity; and missionaries from the United States
of America and Britain have taught them reading,
writing, and a number of useful arts.

The only foreign powers having possessions in Poly-
nesia are the Spaniards, who have occupied the La-
drones since the end of the seventeenth century; and
the French, who, since 1843, have attempted the occu-
patipn of the Marquesas.

NORTH AMERICA.

This ii the ^r ^get, and in creiy reap«ct the most
important divisiou of the western hemisphere. It is
bounded on the eatt by the Atlantic; on the south
by the Oulf of Mexico and the Pacific, save where
connected to South America by the narrow Isthmus
of Panama; on the west by the Pacific; and on the
north generally by the Arctic Ocean. We say gene-

»lly, for its northern shores are yet imperfectly
known, and are at the present moment the object of
farther exploration. If we adopt the opinion of Mr
Simpson, who traversed the coast from Point Barrow to
Point Turn-again, that the waters of Melville Sound
are connected with the Qulf of Boothia, then is North
America distinct from the arctic regions of Cumberlwd

Island, New Georgia, and Greenland, which will require
to be erected into a new geographical division. Fol-
lowing, however, the usutu course of including these
regions, and leaving the * north-west passage' as still
problematical, the area of the known continent may be
stated at 8,000,000 square miles — the great mass of
which lies within the northern temperate zone.

SUPERFICIAL FEATURES — OEOLOOT.

The general physical characteristics of the continent
are remarkable for the magnitude of the scale upon
which they are presented; the mountains, plains, lakes,
and rivers, being superior to those of all other countries.
They are thus summarily described in the System of
Universal Geography: — 1. The narrow re|;ion which
separates the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea
from the Pacific, traversed throughout its whole length
by mountain-ranges, which leave a narrow tract of low
land lying along the sea-coasts, while in certain portions
of the interior they form elevated table-lands. Here
the mountains (which may be considered as the com-
mencement of the great Rocky chain) attain a culmi-
nating point in Guatemala of 14,900, and in the Mexi-
can volcano of Popocatepetl of 17,735 feet; while the
table -land of Mexico i!< from 4000 to 8000 feet in
No. 69,

general altitude. 2. The maritime region between
the Pacific Ocean on the west and the ridge of moun-
tains which extends from Cape @t Lucas in California
northwards to Aliaska. This ridge has a general
elevation of 8000 or 10,000 feet, but rises in Mount St
Elias to 12,630. 3. The elevated region which forms
a sort of table-land between the maritime chain be-
fore-mentioned on the west and the Rocky Moun-
tains on the east. In its southern portion it pre-
sents the arid salt-plains of the Cahfomian demrt;
between 40° and 45° north it presents a fertile region,
with a mild and humid atmosphere; but beyond the
last-mentioned parallel it is barren and inhospitable.
4. The great central valley of the Missouri and Missis-
sippi, extending from the Rocky Mountains on the west
to the Alleghanies on the east, and from the Gulf of
Mexico nortnwards to the 45th or 50th degree north lat.
Between these parallels runs in a waving line the water-
shed which divides the basins of the St Lawrence and
the Mississippi from those of the streams that flow to
Hudson's Bay and the Arctic Ocean. On the east side
this region is rich and well-wooded ; in the middle it
is bare prairie ground, but not unfertile; towards the
west it is dry, sandy, and almost a desert. The Rocky
Mountains, the greatest and moat continuous of the

289

CHAUBEBS'S INFOBUATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

North American chaioB, rU« from 8000 to 10,000,
ocoMionally to 12,000, and only between lat. 52' and
fiS" north to 16,000 feet; while the AUeghaniei reach
their culminating point at 6476 feet, and link down
in their branches to 8000 and 2000 feet. fi. The eastern
declivities of the Alleghany Mountains and the mari-
time region, extending to the shores of the Atlantic.
This is a region of natural forests, and of mixed, but
rather poor soil. 6. The neat northern plain beyond
the fiOtn parallel, four-fifths of which are a bleak and
desolate waste, overspread with innumerable lakes, and
resembling Siberia (No. 67) in the physical character of
its surface and the rigour of its climate.

The geology of the continent, with the exception of
the United States, parts of Mexico, Canada, and Nova
Scotia, has been but imperfectly examined; but so far
as observation has gone, all the usual formations or
their equivalents have been detected. Granite, syenite,
porphyry, gneiss, and the other primitive rocks, arc
found in Mexico, in the Rocky Mountains, in the
Alleghanies, aikd on the arctic shores. Overlying these,
in Mexico, are transition and other older strata; the
Rocky Mountains are flanked by transition and second-
ary rocks, up to the new red sandstone and saliferous
maris; while, flankine the Alleghanies, and taking on
in succession, are all the secondary rocks, up to the
equivalents of the chalk and green-sand, though no
true chalk has yet been dptected. Deposits of the ter-
tiary era are abundant in the United States, though
not presenting the same mineral aspect as the lime-
stones, clays, and gypsums of the Paris Basin ; and in
no country in the world are there more extensive dis-
plays of post-tertianr and alluvial accumulations —
attesting the recent rise of a great portion of the Ame-
rican continent above the waters of the ocean. No
active volcano, with the exception of Mount St Elias
in the Russian territory, is found north of the Mexican
table-land ; but evidences of recent extinction are said
to be rife in the Rocky Mountains. Fossils, analogous
and contemporaneous with those of the old world, have
been discovered in the United States — from the curious
transition trilobite, down through the coal Flora and
the footsteps in the new red sandstone, to the latelv-
existing mastodon and megatherium. (See Qeoloov.)

The economic minerals are numerous and valuable
— namely, granite and building stones of every kind;
marble in the United States; gypsum in the United
States and Nova Scotia ; limestone almost in every
part ; salt springs plentifully in the United States,
California, and Mexico ; coal, tioth anthracite and bitu-
minous, in inexhaustible fieldi) in the United States
and Nova Scotia; petroleum, asphalte; springs of car-
buretted hydrogen, which serve for light ; and other
minor minerals. The chief metals are — gold in Mexico,
California, and the Carolinas; silver in the Central
States; iron in the United States, C&nbda, Mexico, &c.;
copper in the United States, Canada, and the far north;
lead ab",;idantly in the Western States and Upper
Canada; and liii and mercury in Mexico.

The islands, peninsulas, promontories, and other
features which give diversity to the sea-coast, appear
to be most numerous in the north — the region of least
importance, and with which we are the least acquainted.
Passing, therefore, the islands in that quarter, the prin-
cipal on the oast are — Newfoundland, a large low island,
indiiferently wooded, defaced by lakes and marshes,
but celebrated for its adjacent cod-fisheries, 350 miles
long, with an average breadth of 130; Anticosti, in the
Oulf of St Lawrence, sterile, and all but uninhabited;
Prince Edward's Island, somewhat hilly, well wooded,
and in part cultivated, about 140 miles long, with an
average breadth of 34 ; Cape Breton, a large irregularly-
shaped island, with an area of 4000 square miles or
thereby, wooded, abounding in excellent coal and valu-
able fisheries, but with an indiiFerent nxoist and fogey
climate. On the west or Pacific seaboard are — the
now important island of Vancouver, Queen Charlotte's
Mid Qeorge III.'s Archipelago, and other sterile rocky
iileta, of which we know little beyond the position,
200

and that with no great degree of accuracy. The most
striking pminmlaa are — Greenland, Nova Scotia, Flo'
rida, Guatemala or the Central States, and Yucatan
on the east and south; California and Aliaska on the
west. The more prominent capes are — Farewell, the
southernmost point of Greenland; Capes Chidley and
Charles in Labrador; Race in Newfoundland; Sable and
Canso in Nova Scotia; Cod and Hatteraa in the United
States; Sable, the extreme point of Florida; Catoeko
in Yucatan; St Lucas in California; Cape Prince of
Wales, the guardian headland of Behring's Straits; and
Icy Cape and Point Barrow in the Arctic Ocean. The
only iilAmuM deserving of notiotf it that of Darien or
Panama, which connects North and South America,
and which at one place opposite Mandingo Bay is little
more than eighteen miles. Various schemes have been
recently proposed for the crossing of this narrow neck
by canal, with a view to facilitate the communication
between the Atlantic and Pacific. From the surveys
made, there seems to be no engineering difficulty which
may not be surmounted; the only question is, at whose
instance, and under what conditions, ought a work of
such universal utility be undertaken }

HYDBOOBAPHT.

The chief gulfs are — Hudson's Bay on the north, a
large inland sea, 800 miles long by 600 broad, inter-
rupted by shoals and islands, frozen for the greater
part of the year, and girdled by sterile desert shores;
subordinate to the above are James's Bay, 250 miles
long by 150 broad, and Chesterfield inlet, penetrating
westward for 270 miles; Hudson's Strait, 5U0 miles in
length, and only about 80 miles at its narrowest part;
Baffin's Bay and Davis' Strait, celebrated for their
whale fisheries; Bellislc Strait, separating Newfound-
land from the mainland; the Bay of Fundy, between
Nova Scotia and the mainland, 180 miles long, and
about 33 in breadth, of dangerous navigation, in con-
sequence of fogs and the velocity of the tide, which
sometimes rises as high as 70 feet; Chesapeake Bay, a
valuable inlet 180 miles in length, with a breadth
varying from 25 to 7; the large laud-locked Gulf of
Mexico, noted for its low alluvial shores, the high
temperature of its waters, and its currents (Gulf
Stream), which passes with great velocity through the
narrow Strait of Florida; the Caribbean Sea, bounded
on the east by the West Indian Islands, through which
it communicates with the Atlantic by numerous pas-
sages; on the west, the Gulf of California, penetrating
inland for 700 miles, with a breadth varying from 40
to 150 miles, celebrated for its pearls; and the Strait
of St Juan do Fuca, now forming a neutral boundary
between the United States and British America.

The fresh-water lakes of North America are the
largest, and in many respects the most valuable, in the
world. The whole region between 42° and 67° north
is 80 completely covered with them, that geographers
have styled it, by way of eminence, the Region of
Lakes. We can only mention a few of the more im-
portant : — 1. Superior, 420 miles long bv 168 broad,
covering an area of 35,000 square miles; its surface is
625 feet above that of the ocean, but its depth is up-
wards of 1000 feet. It has, like all the others, no tidal
ebb or flow, is studded by few islands, and, from the
unsheltered nature of its shores, aflbrds no great facility
for shipping. It discharges its surplus waters by the
river St Mary, which, after a course of 30 miles, and
a descent of 32 feet, falls into — 2. Lake Huron, hav-
ing a length of 280 miles, and a breadth of 250; area
20,000 square miles, and medium depth 960 feet. It
has several large islands, among which are the Mani-
toulin chain, which almost separates tha^ portion known
as Lake Iroquois or Georgia Bay from the main body
of the lake. 3. Michigan, on the same level with Huron,
with which it is connected by the Mackinaw Strait,
little more than four miles across. This sheet is 300
miles lone, and about 60 broad; area 16,000 square
miles, and depth 900 feet. The shores are low and
open, and coniequeutly afford no good natural har-

NORTH AMERICA.

iMnnge. 4. Lake Erie, reoeiring the lurplui waten
of Huron hy the nayigable rirers St Clair and Detroit
— the former, tdtw a course of 80 miles, expanding into
a shailow lake, which again contracts into the latter,
alio about 30 miles long. Erie is 230 miles long by
40 broad ; area 10,000 square miles; its lerel 560 feet
above the sea, and depth 120 feet. The, shores of this
sheet are loir, with a marshy or sandy beach. 6. On-
tario, receiving the surplus waters of Erie by the Nia-
gara, which has a descent of 330 feet, 165 of which are
by the r«lebrated Falls of that name, and 51 by the
rapids beneath. This lake is 200 miles lone, and 40
broad ; area 7200 square miles, end meui depth 500
feet. Ontario discharges its waters by the Kataraqui,
and the Lake of the Thousand Islands, which after-
wards becomes the St Lawrence. Tho other principal
lakes are — Athabasca, Winnepcg, Great Slave Lake,
and Oreat Bear Lake in the Hudson's Bay Territory;
and Nicaragua in the Central States.

With respect to rivers, no country is more bounti-
fully supplied than North America; almost every part
of itf interior being accessible by their means. The
Misiiigsippi — reckoning from the source of the Missouri,
its true head — has a course of 4300 miles, for 3900 of
which it is navigable for boats. It has been calculated
that the basin of this river has an area upwards of
1,300,000 square miles, and that the whole amount of
boat navigation afforded by the river-system, of which
it is the main trunk, is nearly 40,000 miles. Its prm-
oipal affluents are the Hoxo, Arkansas, La Platte, and
Yellowstone on the west; and the Tennessee, Ohio,
Wabash, and Illinois on the east. The St Lawrence,
estimating its course from the head waters of the rivers
flowing into lake Superior, drains a territory of 600,000
square miles, and affords a partially interrupted boat
navigation of 4000 miles. The other large rivers are
the Mackenzie, flowing jnto the Arctic Ocean, navigable
during the short polar summer, as proved by^ Uease
and Simpson; the Columbia or Oregon, a rapid and
obstructed stream; the Bravo or Del Norte, the water-
ing river of Texas; and the Colorado in California.
These, as well as many others of the minor rivers,
exhibit in their course some of the magnificent and
picturesque waterfalls, of which Niagara (165 feet)
and Montmorency in Canada (250 feet), the Katerskill
(175), Tauqkanic (160), and Great Falls (160) in the
United States, may be taken as examples.

CLIMATE — BOTANY — ZOOLOOr.

Of climate, although there must necessarily be a
great variety in such a vast extent of continent —
stretching from the limits of perpetual verdure to those
of perpetual ice — ^yet it does not agree in particulars
from what might be anticipated from an acquaintance
with the climatology of different places in the eastern
hemisphere. It is usually stated nhat the temperature
in any latitude in America is, upon an average, 10
'^egrees less than in the same parallel of the old world.
The latitudes which ore temperate in Europe, for ex-
ample, are extremely cold in America; and at the
same time no part ever suffers under that intense heat
which scorches up the torrid zone of Africa and Asia.
The coldness of North America is partly attributable
to the extent of land uninterrupted by seas, partly to
the amount of surface under the frigid zone, and partly
to the general elevation of the country. Cold currents
of air are constantly passing from the north over the
interior, while cold currents of water w^ as regularly
passing from tho Arctic Ocean southwards along its
shores. The western coast is considerably warmer,
however, than the east; and altogether, it is supposed
that it will be impossible to carry the arts of civilised
life beyond the 60th parallel, on which may be said
to be situated the capitals of Norway, Sweden, and
Russia in Europe. With this general outline we must
here close, referring for particulars to the respective
countries hereafter described.

The vegetation of the northern regions greatly re-
sembles that of Lspland in Europe— Iwarf wiuows,

larohei, poplan, and pines; mosses and lioheni; and
a scanty herbage, interspersed by a few wild flowers
during summer. In the Canadas, and generally in the
basin of the St Lawrence, the true forests of American
pine and fir prevail, though tho trees aro inferior in
size to those of the United States. Interspersed with
these, and becoming more frequent as we proceed
southward, are the white cedar, sugar-maple, bass-
wood, hickorv, several species of oak, and wild cherry.
Here also flourish the Canadian Uly, the ginseng,
Venus's fly-trap; the cultivated grains and fruits of
temperate Europe; '(vith tobacco, hemp, and flax. In
the United States— which presents three very different
zones of climate — are found a greater variety of species
than in almost any other region of the same dimen-
sions. The first zone, north of lat. 44°, exhibits birch,
elm, red and white pines, sugar and other maples, a
variety of oaks, and tho vegetation common to Canada.
Between this zone and 35°, oaks, ash, hickory, plane,
white cedar, sassafras, witch-hazel, cornel, yellow oirch,
and red maple become more frequent, as do also fine
flowering climbers and aquatics. South of this middle
zone, and up to 27°, most of the foregoing are found,
with deciduous cypress, Carolina poplar, magnolias,
swamp - hickory, looelias, and a greater variety of
climbers and aquatics. South of 27° the vegetation
merges into the tropical, or that to be described under
the West Indies and South America. As already
stated, all the common garden fruits of Europe are
reared in the north; pomegranates, melons, figs, grapes,
olives, almonds, oranges, &c. in tho southern zone.
Maize is grown all south of Maine; tobacco as far
north as lat. 40°; cotton to 37°; the sugar-cane to 32°;
rice in the Carolinas, Louisiana, and Georgia; wheat
all over the Union; oats and rye principally in the
north; hemp, flax, and hops chiefly in the western and
middle districts. (S^e subsequent sections.)

The Fauna of North America is in many respects
peculiar, and has, besides, no analogy to several of the
forms common in the old world. Of mammalia, we may
mention the tailed monkeys of Mexico; the puma,
lynx, glutton, wolf, American fox ; polar, black, and
grisly Dears, badger, otter, racoon, opossum, beaver,
skunk,ermine; prairiedog; bison, wapeti, prong-homed
antelope, moose, red, Virginian, and other deer.
Among birds — the white-headed and other eagles,
various vultures, wild turkey, Canada goose, pas-
senger-pigeon, bell-bird, mocking-bird, humming-birds,
&c. Of reptiles — the alligator, tortoise, rattlesnake,
black-snake, siren, &c. Offish, &c. a vast and useful
variety — as cod, sprat, mackerel, salmon; crab; oyster,
and other shell-fish. Of useful insects, the continent
possesses the bee and cochineal insect, and is infested
with the mosquito. All the domestic animals of Europe
have been introduced with success.

POPOLATION — COUNTRIES.

The people who inhabited the contiqent at the time
of its discovery in 1492, belonged exclusively to the
American variety of our species, but subdivisible into
numerous families and tribes, differing not so much in
physical aspect as in manners and customs. Without
descending to minutiee, the aborigines might be classed
into the Toltecans, or Aztecks, a civilised race who in-
habited Mexico, and had made considerable progress in
the domestic arts; the Indian tribes, who led a savage
life, obtaining their subsistence chiefly by hunting and
fishing!^ and the Esquimaux, who peopled, as they do
now, the shores of the northern seas. Soon after the
discovery, several European settleintots were formed at
various points along the eastern shores of the continent,
from the Isthmus of Panama to the Gulf of St Law-
rence, and these settlements have been gradually ex-
tending, either by purchase from the natives or by con-
quest, till now the whole of the countiy may be said to
he under European supremacy, before which the Red
Man is gradually but surelr passing away. The Spa-
niards colonised Mexico; the French settlements ex-
tended along the St Lawrence and lilisBitBippi; and Che

281

OHAUBEIlffS UnrOBlULTION fOB THE PEOPLK

EnglUh chiefly along the eHtarn ihofM; whan alio
Mttlad Scotch, Dutch, GennMH, and Irish. Out of »U
theie have been formed the now dominant Anglo-Aine-
rican family, which holdi eubordinate the few remain-
ing Indian tribe*, the Ta»t population of African ne-
groes imported as slaves, and the half-breeds resulting
ftom intermixture with the white and coloured races.

Politically, the original settlements have undergone
many mutations : moat of them have declared them-
selves independent, and adopted republican govern-
ments; some have changed masters ; and only a few
remain in unaltered connection with the mother coun-
try. The following table exhibits the existing political
divisions of the continent : —

Countries.

Sq. Miles.

Population.

ChlofTowns.

Russian Americn,

MO.OOO

80,000

Now ArchangoL

British America, -

2,900,000

8,000,000

Quoboo.

Panisli Greenland,

7,000

Hood Hope.

United States, - -

S,fiSI>,000

17,093,000

WashinKton.

Mexico, - - - -

900,000

8,000,000

Mexico.

Central States, • ■

186,000

2,000,000

8. Salvailor.

Yucatan, - - •

76,000

S70,000

Merida.

Such are the existing divisions or governments, the
physical, political, social, and industrial features of
which we shall now endeavour to describe as fully as
our narrow limits will allow ; —

RUSSIAN AHBRIOA.

This territory comprehends the north-western comer
of the continent, together with the adjacent islands,
forming in all an area about 500,000 square miles. It
is in the immediate possession of the Rusaiau-American
Company, whose chief object is the collection of peltry
for the Chinese market; but their dominion over such
a vast and inhospitable region is merely nominal. The
natives who live along the coasts, and barter furs and
skins with the Company's agents, acknowledge in some
degree the sovereign ty'of the empire; but those of the
interior are utterly ignorant of, and uncontrolled by,
any idea of extraneous authority. They are compara-
tively few in number, are thoroughly savage, and sub-
sist wholly by fishing and hunting. As a race, they
are rather under the middle sise, are of a dark-brown
complexion, and seem, especially towards the coast and
on the islands, to be intermediate between the Mongo-
lians and true Americans of the interior. The white
population form a mere handful of agents and their
servants — inhabiting the forts or settlements, which are
few and widely separated. The chief of these is New
Archangel — the capital of the country — containing a
mixed population of 1000. It is situated on the west
coast of Sitka Island, and contains the boards and
warehouses o/ the Company. As a region, Russian
America is sterile, dreary, and unimprovable; even the
trade which it at one time possessed is rapidly on the
decline, in consequence of the unsparing massacre of
the animals — sea-otters, seals, sea-lions, foxes, wolve-
rines, &C. — which yielded the furs and peltry.

UniTISII AMERICA.

British America embraces a territory nearly as large
as Europe, and comprises — I. The bleak region of
New Britain, inhabited by the Esauimoux and other
savages, and by the forts or fur depots of the Hud-
son's Bay Company ; 2. Upper and Lower Canada,
united into one colonial province in 1841 — the former
settled chiefly by erairmnts from Britain and the
United States, and the latter originally settled by the
French, but conquered in 1759; 3. New Brunswick,
noted for its timber and fisheries, ceded by the French
at the peace of 176.3; 4. Nova Scotia, first settled by
the French, and along with New Brunswick called
Acadia, but subsequently fell under the English, and
after several times changing masters, was finally ac-
quired by Britain in 1763 — possesses coal, gypsum,
wood, and abundant fisheries ; 5. Prince Edward's
Island, also taken from the French iu 1758, and an-
298

nezad to Nora Scotia, but since 1768 hu formed a
separate colony; 6. Newfoundland, noted for its pro-
ductive cod-fisheries, diKovered by the Enclish iu
1497, but not successfully established as a colony till
1623; and, 7. To these may be added the settlement
of Belize on the Bay of Honduras, transferred from
Spain to England by treaty in 1670 — valuable for its
mahogai:y and logwood. Uf these territories and colp-
nies, as more especially interesting to British readers,
we may ofier a few details:-^

New Britain,
or, as it is comroonlv termed, the Hudson's Bay Ter-
ritory, comprehends the whole lands in North America
granted by the British government to the Hudson's
Bay Company. The boundaries of these lands were
never very satisfactorily defined. Originally limited to
the districts drained by the rivers falling into Hudson's
Bay, they have, since the union of the Hudson's Bay
and North-West Companies in 1821, been regarded as
comprehending the whole of British America, with the
exception of the settled provinces or crown colonies.
The territory, as might be expected from its vast ex-
tent, presents considerable variety in physical character,
though on the whole cold, dreary, and uninviting. In
the north, vegetation is scanty and stunted; as we
travel southwards, the pine forests begin to appear, till
in the southern regions on both sides they become
dense, with open spaces of lake, morass, and prairie
ground. With the exception of Red River district,
near Lake Winnepeg, which was sold by the Company
to Lord Selkirk, and is assuming the form of a Euro-
pean settlement, the whole territory may be regarded
as a vast hunting-ground, occupied by buflaloes, musk-
oxen, deer, beai-s, wolves, foxes, beavo^, lemmings, '
ermines, and other fur-bearing aniinals-«-the skins of
which constitute the principal value of the territory.
No doubt copper, iron, lead, plumbago, coal, and salt
have been discovered in several places; but these, with-
out the facility of being rained and transported, remain
unemployed and worthless. The population, amount-
ing to about 1 40,000, consists chiefly of various Indian
tribes, who roam over the interior; of Esquimaux, in>
habiting the northern and eastern coasts; and of the
officers and servants of the Company (with a sprinkHtag
of half-castes), who inhabit the forts or factories.

With respect to the Hudson's Bay Company, which
was chartered in 1670, and possesses the monopoly of
the fur trade in these regions, ' the supreme direction
(we quote Waterston's * Cycloptcdia of Commerce ') i»-
vested in a board consisting of a governor, deputy-
governor, and seven directors, who hold their sittings
in London. A resident governor appointed by them
has tho superintendence of all the settlements, and is
assisted by local councils, composed of the principal
officers in each district, who meet him at central points
during his annual tours of inspection. The acting
officers consist of chief factors, each of whom has charge
of several posts, of principal and secondary traders,
and of clerks. The higher offices are filled up, accord-
ing to merit, from the inferior ones; so that it is per-
fectly open for a clerk to rise to the rank of chief
factor. The Company have at present in their employ
about 1000 Europeans, and their descendants by In-
dian wives. They have four or five principal stations:
York Fort, the most important, commands all the vast
region extending west and north of Hudson's Bay ;
Moose Fort, at the south extremity of Hudson's Bay,
presides over all the country between that gulf and the
Canadian lakes; Ungava Bay, at the exterior entrance
of Hudson's Bay, contains a small station for collecting
the produce ot the adjacent coasts of Salvador, con-
sisting chiefly of oil from the seal and porpoise; Mon-
treal is the centre of the transactions carried on iu the
Canadas.' The Company has also several stations west
of the Rocky Mountains, the chief of which was Fort
Vancouver, on the Columbia River; but since the ad-
justment of the Oregon boundaries with the United
States, tbo chief factory hat been removed to Vancouver

KOBTB AMBBICA.

Itland.whieli, during the pnient year (1849), hsa been
(iren by the crown to the Company u a field for oo-
oniMtion. PoMening wood, coal, iron, and, it ii said,
other metals; harin^ a farourabla climate; and afford-
ing fadlitiei for ihipping, Vancouver Iiland ii likely
to auume considerable importance; and this all the
more ranidly from its being the nearest British terri-
tory to the now El Dorado of California. The annual
▼alue of the imports from Britain to tho Hudson's Bay
Territory is estimated at ;e55,000; while that of the
peltry and other articles exported raries, according to
circumstances, from £40,000 to £70,000.

Canada.
Canada is bounded on the east by the Oulf of St
I^wrence, on the north and west by the territories of
the Hudson's Bay Company, and on the south by the
United States and the British province of New Bruns-
wick. Until a recent period, Canada was divided into
two provinces, the Upper and Lower, each of which
had its own local government; but by an act of the im-
perial parliament in 1841, the two provinces are united
under one general Legislative Council and House
of Assembly, two bodies respectively resembling the
Houses of Peers and Commons in the mother country,
and whose measures require the consent of the gover-
nor, as the acts of the home parliament require that of
the sovereign. The affairs of this, as of all other colo-
nies, are subject to an ultimate control, vested imme-
diately in a colonial minister, but finally in the British
legislature. In Lower or Eastern Canada, tho greater
part of the population is of French descent (this having
originally been a French colony): the laws resemble
those of France, and the French language is generally
spoken. Upper or Western Canada lies to the west
and south-wAst of the lower province. Its inhabitants
are of British descent, and a very large proportion of
them are from Scotland, both Lowlands and Highlands.
The Knglish law and church are here established ; but
there is the most perfect liberty of conscience, and as
great a security of life and property as in Britain. The
aggregate area of the province has been estimated at
355,000 square miles, and the population at 1,225,000.
Western Canada, which is tho finer and more eligible
section, is divided into districts, counties, ridings, town-
ships, special tracts, and allotments, together with
blocks of land reserved for the clergy and the crown,
and lands appropriated to the Indians. A district
contains one, two, or three counties, and each county
contains from four to thirty townships. The line of
division betwixt Westeni and Eastern Canada is in
one part the Ottawa or Grand River. Nearly all the
other lines of division in the provinces are straight,
without regard to physical distinction, such as hills
and rivers; and this peculiarity is common over the
whole of North America. The entire area of Upper
Canada has been estimated at 64,000,000 acres. Of
this extent of territory, the portion laid out in town-
ships, and open for settlement, amounts to nearly
17,000,000 acres, the size of each township averaging
61,600 acres. Deducting the quantities granted to
different classes of settlers, and otherwise disposed of
by the crown, there yet remains within the townships,
at the disposal of government, about 3,000,000 acres.
This tract of country, chiefly bordering the north shore
of the river St Lawrence, and of the lakes Ontario,
Erie, and St Clair, and of the rivers or straits commu-
nicating between these lakes up to Lake Huron, a
distance in all little short of 700 miles, and stretching
northward from the water to a depth varying from 50
to 80 miles, is composed of a soil which, for productive
richness, variety, and applicability to the highest pur-
poses of agriculture, may challenge competition with
the choicest tracts of land in the new world.

Western Canada is chiefly a flat country, and is for
the greater part covered with timber, but possesses a
number of diains or ridges of high lands, running in
different directions, and separating the sources and
channel! of innumerable rivers and brooks. The grand

feature of the countnr ii it* water>eoUrHi. By looking
at the map, it will be perceived that there is a Kriee
of large lakes, communicating with each other ; these
are unequalled by any inland sheets of water in the
world, and are entitled to the appellation of fresh-water
seas. The series, so far as Canada is concerned (see
page 290), consists of Lakes Superior, Huron, Erie, and
Ontario. The waters of Lake Erie, on issuing from its
lower extremity, form a river of nearlv half a mile
broad, which in its course is precipitated over a preci-
pice to a (lepth of 165 feet, thus making the famed
cataract or Falls of Niagara. The river is, at the dis-
tance of a few miles below, received by Lako Ontario,
whence issues the river St Lawrence, one of the largest
streams in the world, anu which, after a course of 2000
miles, falls into the Atltoitic, This majcstio river is
90 miles wide at its mouth, and is navigable for ships
of the line for 400 miles from the ocean. In its upper
parts, its navigation is impeded by rapids, or the rush-
ing of the stream down an inclined plane ; but some
of these impediments are obviated by means of canals
recently cut; wherefore there is now a continued water
communication for vessels from the Atlantic into the
interior or innermost lakes. The Welland Canal, a
magnificent undertaking, connects Lakes Erie and On-
tario, and affords a passage for vessels of large size.
Lake Erie is also connected by a canal with the Hud-
son, a river of the United States, which also falls into
the Atlantic. The Ottawa, or Grand River, is next to
the St Lawrence in point of size, and is tributary to it.
It falls into the north side of the St Lawrence at Mon-
treal. The Welland, or Chippewa, is also a remarkably
fine river, wholly unobstructed by falls. The St Law-
rence has a tendency northward in its course, and,
therefore, the farther we ascend its waters the milder
does the climate of the country become.

The climate of Canada presents very opposite ex-
tremes of heat and cold, and the transition from the
one to the other is much more sudden than in Great
Britain. Notwithstanding this, howetrer, it is healthy;
all accounts which we have seen, both those of travel-
lers and the letters of private individuals, agreeing in
this respect. The spring in Canada generally commences
about the end of April, and the fields are well covered
with vegetation by the beginning of May, The ther-
mometer ranges during summer from about 80° to 84° ;
in some instances it has renched 102"; but such ex-
treme heat is very rarelv felt. Spring, summer, and
autumn extend from the end of April to October.
Winter commences in November, when thick fogs and
snow-storms are frequent. By the middle of December
the ground is generally covered with snow, and the
frost, especially in Lower Canada, becomes sometimes
very intense. The depth of the snow in LTpper Canada
varies according to seasons, from a few inches to several
Teet; the average depth, taking one season with another,
has been estimated to be between eighteen inches' and
two feet. Tho winter in the U[)pcr or western part of
the province is much milder than in the Lower or
eastern part, and new settlers generally are pleasantly
disappointed in not experiencing the rigours which,
from exaggerated rumours at home, they had expected
to find. January has generally a week or more of open,
and sometimes mild weather; and it not unfrequcntly
happens that it is only in February that the weather
may be £aid to be very severe and the frost intense.

In Lower Canada, where winter is moct severe, the
thermometer ranges from 25° above to 25° below zero.
The sky of a Canadian winter is generally almost
cloudless, the air bracing, and, from the absence of
wind, in spite of the low temperature, the cold is not
felt to be disagreeable. From Quebec to Montreal and
upwards, the St Lawrence and other rivers, and also
the lakes, cease to be navigable ; but the fimi icy
surface serves as a road for the sleighs and carrioles;
and although the entire face of nature is now changed
— the variml and pleasing tints of autumn in the
forest, and the busy and enlivening signs of commerce
upon the lakes and rivers, having given place to ou»

293

CHAMBEBS'S INrOBMAnOV fOB ¥BE PEOPLE.

d«ad Kud drtu>liks imm, Mmninglj dwrtituta of
THiatT— yak the inowt wd froitf of CMi«d» art hailod
u uinering in » MMon wUoh brin^ with it no imall
amount of locial ei^oymtnt. Winter in Ciuiada it
indeed the NMwn of joy and pleaiure : all olaeiee and
lAnki indulge in a geneial carniral, a« lome amende
for the mors enerratinff toil undergone during the
iummer monthi. The double-ieated ileigh, with iti
mettle pair of honei, or ■ingle-hone ouUtr of the Upper
Canadian, or the carriole of the humble habilan, or
proud ttiffneur of Lower Canada, ie got ready all over
the country. Riding abroad on buiineM or pleasure
commeucM; riiitins if in active plav between friendi,
and relatirei; regular city and town ballf, and irregular
pic>nio country parties, are quite the rage.

Whi' ihe external weather ii guarded against by
warm clothing when out of doon, the habitationi of
the Canadians are kept comfortably^ wann, the apart-
ment! being heated with stovei, which keep the tem-
perature at a higher and moro uniform rate than can
be effected by English fireplacei.

The rarioue writen on Canada each recommend par-
ticular districti for the settlement of the emigrant; but
it is hardly to be expected that persons in this coun-
try can make a perfectly judicious choice, a personal
inspection of the lands, or at least information near
the spot, being in almost every case requisitu. The
most elaborate details are given by Boucnette, in his
large work on British America, regarding the different
parts of the province; and as what he mentions may
M of use in furnishing emigrants with an idea of the
nature of the lands, we take the liberty of transcribing
a few of his. observations : —

' The Edilem Sutton includes Ottawa, Johnstoun,
Midland, and Bathurst districts. Situated between two
broad and navigable rivers, the Ottawa and the St
Lawrence, and centrally traversed in a diagonal course
by an extensive and splendid sloop canal, connecting
the navigation with the waters of Ontario, this section
of country evidently enjoys important geograpliical and
local advantages. Its surface presents, almost unex-
ceptiouably, a table-level of moderate elevation, with a
rery gentle and scarcely perceptible depression, as it
approaeLes the maivin of the magnificent streams by
wnich it is bounded to the northward and south-east.
The soil, though sometimes too moist and marshy, is
extremely rich and fertile, and chiefly consists of a
brown clay and yellow loam. This section is intersected
by numerous rivers, remarkable for the multitude of
their branches and minor ramifications. There are
also a number of food public roads, both along the St
Lawrence and Ottawa, and into the interior. Great
industry and attention to improvement are displayed
upon most of the lands throughout this tract. The
town of Kingston, the largest and most populous of the
upper province, is very advantageously seated on the
noirth side of the St Lawrence, or rather at the eastern
extremity of Lake Ontario. The thriving village of
Perth is situated in the township of Drummond, on a
branch of the Rideau, and occupies a central position
between the Grand River and the St Lawrence, com-
municating by tolerably pood roads with Kingston to
the south and Bytown to the northward, at the oppo-
site extremities of ihe Rideau Canal. The first estab-
lishment, fostered by government, was made in 1815,
by British emigrants, chiefly from Scotland, many of
whom are now at the head of excellent farms, possess
comfortable habitations, and reap the fruits of their
perseverance and industry. Ascending along the shores
of Lake Chaudiere, the objects of note first presenting
themselves are the rising colonies in front of the town-
ships of March and Tarlioltou ; they ore chiefly com-
posed of families possessed in general of adequate means
to avail themselv«s of the advantages that ate mcident
to a newly-opened country.

The Central Section of the province embraces the dis-
tricts of Home and Newcastle, which occupy a grant of
about 120 miles upon Lake Ontario, extending from
tiM head of the Bay of Quints westward to tbe line
394

botween Toronto and Tntfalgar. Although lass popa<
lous than the tract of oountiy composing the first part
of the division which we have adopted, this portion of
the province does not vield to it in fertility, and is
equsJly well watered by numerous lakes, broad and
beautiful rivers, and innumerable streams and brooks.
The rivers in general abound with excellent fish, and
especially salmon, great quantities of which are annu-
ally speared in the river Credit, for the supply of the
western country. In front of Newcastle district, on
the borders of Lake Ontario, the soil consists of a rich
block earth; but in the district of Home, the shores of
the lake are of au inferior qualify. The lands upon
Yonge Street [roads are frequently called streets in
Canada], which connects Toronto with Lake Simcoe,
are exceedingly fertile, but so destitute of stones (for
building and other purposes) as to create some incon-
venience to the settlers. A sandy plain, of some extent,
exists some distance north of Ontario, towards Rice
Lake; but saving this, and probably one or two more
comparatively insignificant exceptions, the soil of this
tract of country is extremely fertile, well adapted for
agriculture, and yields luxuriant crops of wheat, rye,
maize or Indian com, peas, barley, oats, buckwheat,
&c. The fronts of all the townships from Kingston to
Toronto are, with few exceptions, well settled; roads
lead through them, from which, in many places, others
branch off to the interior. At intervals, rather distant
indeed from each other, there are a few small villages.
On the lands that are occupied, great progress has been
made in agriculture : the houses, generally speaking,
are strong and well-built: and the inhabitants appear
to be possessed of all the necessaries, as well as most
of the comforts, that a life of industry usuallv bestows.'
In this division is the town of Toronto, which occupies
a good situation on a fine bay of Lake Ontario; popu-
lation in 1840, 12,000.

The Wettem Section comprises Oore, Niagara, Lon-
don, and Western Districts. The surface is uniformly
level, or but slif^htly undulating, if we except a very
few solitary eminences, and those parts of the dis-
tricts of Gore and Niagara traversed by the ridge of
elevated land. The variety of soils, and the diversity
of their combinations, observable in these four districts,
are by no means so great as might be expected in so
extended a region. The whole tract is alluvial in its
formation, and chiefly consists of a stratum of block,
and sometimes yellow loam, above which is deposited,
when in a state of nature, a rich and deep vegetable
mould, the substratum beneath the l>ed of loam being
generally a tenacious gray or bluo clay, which in some
parts appears at the surface, and, intermixed with
sand, constitutes the super-soil. There are numerous
and extensive quarries of limestone to be found in
these districts, that supply the formers with excellent
materials for building. Freestone is also found, but in
small quantities, and generally along the shores of the
lakes. The Thames River, in this section, rises far in
the interior; and oiler pursuing a serpentine course of
about 150 miles, in a direction nearly south-west, dis-
cbarges itself into Lake St Clair.

The chiiif town* in Canada are Quebec, Montreal,
Three Rivers, Prescot, Kingston, and Toronto, for-
merly called York. The city of Quebec is the capital
of Lower Canada, and stands on the extremity of n
precipitous cape, on the north bank of the St Law-
rence, opposite the island of Orleans. Population
in 1840 about 26,000. The appearance of the town,
on comine into view, is particularly striking. The
city is divided into an upper and lower town; the for-
mer being of ancient date, and adopted as the seat
of commerce, and the latter being the residence of the
higher and more afSuent classes. There are a num-
ber of fine public edifices; among the rest, the Castle
of St Louis, a prominent object on the summit of the
rock ; the Roman Catholic and Protestant Cathedrals,
the barracks, hospitals, the Quebec Bank, and a hand-
some monument to Wolfe and Montcalm. The insti-
tutions ue in many instanoei of French character, and

KORTH AMEtaOA.

tkt Ungutgt of th* InlialiUntt ii Frtnoh uid Engliih.
Ai ft port, Quebec Iim puA c»pabUit!ei — the OMin
'«ing iuffioisnt to oontkin 100 Mil of the line. The
.Mnount of ihipping annually entered ia little ihort of
400,0C0 torn. Montreal ii a city of an entirely diffei-ent
appecrance. It ie agreeably situated on a beautii\il
iuand of the lame name in the St Lawrence, which
meaeurei 82 milei long by 10^ broad, a:id liei at the
confluence of the Ottawa River and the St Lawrence.
The island of Montreal is nearly level, and ii scarcely
excelled in fertility. The city stands on the south side
of the island, and is reclconed the first in the province,
in respect of situation, local advantages, and mildness
of climate. The houses are well built, and the streets
commodious. Them are also some handsome public
buildings. The literary and scholastic institutions in
Montreal are numerous, and are of great benefit to the
province. There are no wharfs, and the ships and
steamboats sail close to the bank of the river, where
there is water for vessels of 600 tons. The annual
tonnage entered at the port is about 24,000; the popu-
lation of the city in 1840 was 35,000.

The principal branches of industry in Canada are —
agriculture, the main product of which is wheat,
amounting to upwards of 11,000,000 bushels per an-
num ; the felling and export of timber, yielding about
£705,000 yearly; the preparation of pot and pearl
ashes, in clearing the land of timber, there being about
86,000 barrels annually exported ; and the subordinate
brancbei of fisheries, oil, and fur trade. There are
some small manufactories of difi^erent articles at Mon-
treal and Quebec; flannel, coarse cloth, and linen are
now made to some extent in various districts; iron-
founding is conducted on a considerable scale in Three
Rivers, Quebec, and Montreal ; and soap, candles, and
the like, in several of the larger towns. The chief
articles of export are timber, ashes, wheat, and other
raw produce; the imports are coal, metals, cordage,
East India produce, and various kinds uf British manu-
factures from Europe; sugar, molasses, rum, and hard-
woods from the West Indies; and beef, pork, biscuit,
rice, and tobacco from the United States. The total
value of the imports aveioge about £2,000,000, and
and that of the exports £1,OUO,000.

Nova Sootlo.

Nova Scotia is a peninsula connected with the main-
land by a narrow isthmus. It measures about 300
miles in length, but is of unequal breadth ; altogether,
it contains 15,617 square miles, or nearly 10,000,000
acres, with a population of about 156,000. There are
numerous lakes, but the greater number occur near
the southern and south-weatem coasts, covering about
one-tenth of the entire superficies. Theve is no part
of the land thirty miles distant from navigable water,
and in all parts there are fine streams and rivers. The
southern margin of Nova Scotia is broken and rugged,
with very prominent features, deep inlets, and craggy
islands. The features of the northern coast ore soft,
and free from rocks. It is bounded on the north by
part of the Gulf of St Lawrence, which separates it
from Prince Edward's Island; on the north-east by the
Out of Canso, which separates it from the island of
Cape Breton; on the west by the Bay of Fundy, which
separates it from New Brunswick; and on the south
and south-east by the Atla:itic Ocean.

The soil of a country of such extent and such varied
features as Nova Scotia must necessarily ba various.
If an imaginary line be drawn, dividing the province in
the exact centre, from east to west, the north-western
half will be found to contain by far the greatest portion
of good land. On the side towards the Bay of Fundy,
the soil is very rich, and free from stones, and contains
many thousand acres of diked marsh land. This is
alluvial land, and is made by the deposit of the tides
— a sediment composed of the finer particles of soil,
brought away by the rivers and torrents in their course
to the Bay of Fundy, of putrescent matter, salt, &c.
Tbia l»nd| called mmh, aftw it has attiuned a laitabla

height, is diked, and the watert of the m« •xeludad.
Nothing can exceed its fertility. In many places, par>
tioularly about Windsor and Truro, it yields tnree
tons of hay per acre, and Las continued to do so with-
out manure for fifty years past. There is a difference
in its quality. Where the water whtrh OTerflows it i»
not much enriched by a long course through the cou&t
vHT, it is thin, and of an inferior (quality. The quantity
of land enclosed in this manner is very great. At thn
head of the Bay of Fundy, there are 70,000 acres in
one connected body. There is one marsh in Cumber-
land containing nearly as much land as Romney Marsh
in Kent, and of a quality vastly superior. This land
is found in great quantities in Cumberland, Macau,
Napan, Londonderry, Truro, Onslow, Shubenaoadie,
Noel, Kennetcook, Newport, Windsor, Falmouth, Hor-
tou, Comwallis, Granville, Annapolis, &o. The next
best (juality of land is called by a term peculiar to
America, intervale, an alluvial soil mode by ihe over-
flowing of large fresh-water brooks and rivers in the
spring and autumn. The quantity of intervale is in-
calculable. It is to be met with m every part of the
province, and is frequently found covered with a long
natural grass, several feet in length, and is sometimes
called ' wild meadow.' The quality varies according to
the size of the brook or river by whicli it is made, but
in general it is very fertile and rich. The upland
varies so much in character that it is difficult to give »
general description of it.

The mineral products of this part of America aro
valuable; but none is so much worthy of consideration
as coal, which is worked at Pictou, at Sidney in Cape
Breton, and also in Cumberland county; and there can
be no doubt that the possession of this mineral will
constitute one of the chief advantages of these provinces
over every other. In 1 847, about 120,000 tons were
shipped from Pictou alone. Limestone, freestone, and
slate abound, of the best qualities, and there is plenty
of fine clay for bricks. Iron oro has also been dis-
covered in several places; gypsum occurs in enormous
beds, and forms a valuable article of export to the
United States; and * Nova Scotia blue grits,' or grind-
stones, are celebrated all over America.

The climate of Nova Scotia, like that of the adjoining
districts, is salubrious and pleasant, but is in a peculiar
degree exposed to the extreme of summer heat and
winter cold. The ground is generally covered with
snow from the 25th of December till the 5th of March,
in which respect it nearly resembles Upper Canada;
and during this period the farmers draw upon sledges
their wood and poles from the forest, and cany their
produce to market. It h difiicult to say when spring
commences, as it is rather late and irregular in its ap-
proaches. Whnn vegetac'on does begin, it is very rapid,
and two or three days mi^ s a perceptible change in the
amount of the foliage, ''he summer may be said to
be short and power^l, and during the time it lasts it
exerts a much greater influence on vegetation than ia
observable in Britain. During this period, the inha-
bitants go very lightly dressed. Altogether, the climate
of Nova Scotia is as good as that of Scotland, if not
superior; nor are there any of those local or epidemical
disorders with which other countries are frequently
afflicted. Although the winters are intensely cold, they
are not so disagreeable as the raw changeable vrintera
of this country, nor nearly so fatal to human life. Bei
sides, if the settlers work during three-quarters of a
year, they have ample provision for the remaining
quarter, and are enabled to look forward to winter as
their season of holiday enjoyment and relaxation.

Few parts of the world are so well watered as Nova
Scotia. The rivers, brooks, springs, an^ streams of
different kinds, are very numerous. Some of the lakes
are extremely beautiful, containing in general one or
more small islands, which are covered with a luxuriant
growth of wood, and vary in every imaginable shape.
The land in the neighbourhood of them is often undu-
lated in the most romantic manner. These lakes wHl
ip time b^ of great service to the province; in soveml

295

OHAUBKRffs iinr<»uiAnoir fob thi piople

inrtMOM th«y nftrljr int«rMot th* praintulft, ofltring
■COM for inlMid D»Tiga(ion.

Tha fruiU produood in th« oountiy an numeroui.
Bwid«| » grwU varltty of wild Aruitt, gotmhtnln,
itnwlwrriM, oherriM, and rMpberriti, then »r« p«an
of T»rioui kindi, nU iho T»n«tiM of English pfunii,
Applet of a rtiy luperior quality, and lome finer frulti.
'rhe other Tegatattle products are cucamben, potatoer,
trtichokee, eauliflowert, cabbagei, beans, and peai.
I ope are an invariable and lure crop, and may be
aied in gre'tt abundance. Pumpkins and Indian com
...e cultiTuied to a great extent. Carrots, onions, pars-
nips, beet, celorj, and niost other kitchen herbs, are
produced with ease. The grains cultivated are summer
and winter wheat, rye, buckwheat, barley, and oats.
The natural forests are ehn, cherry, white, black, yel-
low, and gray birch, ntd oak, beeob, white and yellow
pine, white, red, and black spruce, maples, &c.

The province has no animals of a dangerous nature.
There are the elk or moose, the feindeer, lynx, otter,
racoon, fox, marten, beaver, porcupine, squirrel, &c.
Among the feathered tribe there are a number of birds
of the same kind as in Dritain, including those called
game in this country, all of which maybe shot and
used as food without any restriction. The only trouble-
some insects are the mosquitoes and black flies during
hot weather. The rivers abound with the finest fish,
amoDc which arc salmon and trout ; and the shores
yield large supplies of white and shell-fish.

Nova Scotia is divided into seventeen counties, three
of which are in Cape Dreton. The chief towns are
Halifax, Yarmouth, Pictou, Lunenburgh, Liverpool,
Uridgeton, Windsor, && in Nova Scotia Proper; and
Sydney, North Sydney, and Arichat in Cape Dreton.
The capital, Halifax, is pleasantly situated on the slope
of a rising ground, facing a fine spacious bay or natural
harbour in front, on the eastern or more accessible side
of the peninsula. It contains about 25,000 inhabitants,
and is a central point for the foreign commerce and
fishinc trade of the colony. Although possessing consi-
derable wealth and trade, and the seat of an intelli-
gent population, it is behind English towns of the
same size and inferior capabilities. Here, as elsewhere
in the colonies, a dependence on the arranp^ements of
the home government deadens public spirit, and re-
tards that natural tendency to advance which is ob-
servable in the towns of the United States.

Cape Breton is a romantic and mountainous island,
lying close to Nora Scotia on the east, and fcrming
three of its districts or counties. The island measures
upwards of 100 miles in length, by about 60 in
breadth, including the numerous bays which indent
the land. The natural productions of this island re-
semble those of Nova Scotia, though wheat is less
generally grown, and oats and potatoes are raised to a
considerable extent. There are large tracts of good
land in the lower parts, and the expense of clearing it
of timber is estimated at £'i an acre. The mineial
resources of the island are valuable.

The most important branches of industry in Nova
Scotia are the timber trade, raining, cod-fishery, ship-
building, and agriculture. The annual exports amount
to about je550,000; the imports to £800,000. The
province possesses upwards of 120,000 tons of shipping;
and upwards of 350,000 tons are annually entered at
the various ports.

New Brunswick.

The province of New Brunswick, lying on the main-
land uf North America, contiguous to the United States
and Lower Canada, consists of an extensive tract, com-
prising nearly 20,000 square miles, the greater part of
which is still covered with dense forests. The land,
however, is gpnerally fertile, and excellently adapted
for the settlement of emigrants. Besides being recom-
mended by the fertility of its soil, it possesses innumer-
able rivers and streams in all directions, suitable for
purposes of trade or manufacture. The climate is salu-
brious; tha natural products numeioui aud valuable;
296

wild animals an plantiftil; and ilia rWws «m1 lakat
abound in fish; whila along tha coasts ood, baddoeki,
salmon, and other fish, are yielded in plenty to tha
enterprising flshenuan. The resources ot tha province
are tnus inexhaustible, and, according to Macgrwor,
suitable to tha maintenance of at least 9,000,000 of in-
habitants. As yet. New Brunswick has a population
only of 206,000, and the principal settlaments are
along the river St John and Its lakes. On tha northern
side of the entrance to this large river from the Bay
of Fund^ stands the town of St John, the largest in
the province, and the seat of an extensive trade. Fre-
derickton, which claims to be the metropolis of the
colony, is situated ninety miles above 8t John's on the
same river; population between 3000 and 4000.

The province of New Brunswick presents an exten*
sive line of coast to the Oulf of St Lawrence on tha east,
while on the north it has part of Lower Canada, which
separates it fVoni the river St Lawrence upwards. Its
latent capabilities for carrying on trade with the inte-
rior are thus very considerable. Miramiohi is tha chief
river afler the St John. It falls into the Oulf of St
Lawrence, and is navigable for large vessels for about
forty miles. Along its banks, here and there, are seen
the huts and houses of settlers, who have not made
great advances in cultivation. The cutting and export
of timber form the main trade of the district. About
twenty miles up, on the south bank, is seen the village
of Chatham, where many of the ships load, and where
several of the merchants are settled, mho have erected
stores and wharfs. Four miles farther up stands the
village ot Newcastle. The total value of^ the exports
from the province is estimated at £400,000; aud that
of the imporU at £600,000.

Prince Edward's Iilond.

This rich and productive island is situated .in the
Oulf of St Lawrence, betwixt Cape Breton on the east,
and New Brunswick on the west, and is separated from
Nova Scotia on the south, by a strait of about 9 miles
in breadth. It measures 140 miles in length, and is
34 at its greatest breadth. The general appearance of
this island from the sea is level, but on landing, the
scenery is varied with gentle undulations. It abounds
with streams and lakes, and in many places it is in-
dented with bays, no part being more than eight miles
from the sea. The soil is in general fertile, yielding
good crops of wheat and other grains; and parsnips,
turnips, carrots, potatoes, and almost all the common
culinary vegetables, succeed well. This island has been
recommended to such emigrants as possess a knowledge
of agriculture with that of the curing of fish. The
climate of Prince Edward's Island is in some respects
similar to that of the neighbouring countries. The
winter is said to bo shorter than in Lower Canada, and
the atmosphere is noted for being free of fogs. Agri-
cultural operations commence about the besinning of
May, and the harvest is generally over by the end of
October. The chief disadvantage this colony labours
under, and which is equally applicable to the others
near it, is'tho great length of the winter, which obliges
the farmer to lay up a very large stock of hay for sup-
porting his live-stock. The sudden manner, also, in
which spring comes on abridees the period for sowing
and planting, thus leaving the agriculturist compara-
tively idle at one season, and obliging him to work
severely at another.

The inhabitants are chiefly from Scotland and Ire*
land, with a few Dutch and Oermans. Mr Macgregor
characterises them as hospitable, kind, obliging, and
as, generally speaking, a moral people. The island is
governed by a lieutenant-governor, council, and House
of Assembly consisting of eighteen members, who are
elected by the people. Charlotte Town, the capital, is
situated on the north bank of the river Hillsborough,
on the east side of the ' island. The town stands on
ground which rises in gentle heights from the banks of
the river, and its harbour is considered one of the best
iu Uie Oulf of St Lawrenot. A nnall group of iilandi

KORTH AMfiRIGA.

Cftllad ill* M«giUUni luiTa b«fln reemtly uintxad to
Priiio* EdwMrd'i Iil«nd,chi*flT m flthing MtabliihmanU.
The toUl »rm of th« colony U mi down at 2184 iqnMrc
luiloi, with n ])«pul»tion of 47,000. The annu»l iin-
porte exceed ^61,000; the exportt, £47,000; the out-
wnrd •hippiiiK, 30,000 toni; the inward, 24,000 ton*.
The revenue at preient aniounti to about i;rj,000, and
tho expenditure to X8000.

Nvwfouudland.

Thli colony, to which we haro already adverted ai
derivioK iti lole importance from iti produotivt) cod-
fiiheriee, coniiita of the large iiland of Newfoundland,
the island of Anticoiti, and of Labrador on the main-
land. The entire area of the province ii eitimated at
£7,000 iquare milei, and the population (lettlera and
Eaquimaux) at 06,000 ; but tneie number* iiiuit be
taken merely a* approximation!. The iilandi are de-
ecribed oa hilly, rocky, and barren, with rui;god and
indented ihorei, ■|iarin;;ly covered with timber of indif-
ferent growth, and lulyected to a cold and humid
climate. The coniequence in, that the agricultural
operation* of tho settler* are limited to the precariou*
production of small quantities of potatoe*, oats, and
bay : their main supplies being imported from other
countries. Fishing is the great object of industry, and
the export* consist almost solely of dried and pickled
cod, seal, cod and whalu oil, seal -skins, herrings,
sprats, and salmon — amounting yearly to £800,000 or
£8&0,000. In 184'i, Britain exported to the colony of
Newfoundland produce and manufactures to the amount
of £277,000, and imported from thence produce to
the value of £247,000.

The administration of the colony is vested in a go-
vernor, with executive and legislative councils, and a
House of Assembly, consisting of fifteen members. The
principal town and port is St John, with a population
of from 10,000 to 16,000. The settlement* are con-
fined to the shore*, on account of the fisheries, which
are conducted chiefly along the coasts of the island, oft'
tho shore* of Labrador, and upon the well-known sub-
marine banks which stretch towards the south-east into
the depth* of the Atlantic.

Belize or Honduras.
This settlement i* far removed from the great mas*
of British America above described, being situated
along the east coast of the Central States on the Day of
Honduras. Its area is ill defined, but has been esti-
mated at 62,740 square miles, with a population of
9,000, of whom only 300 or 400 are whites. Its pro-
duets and peculiarities are thus briefly described in
the * System of Universal Geography : ' — * The coast
is flat, and is bordered with reefs and low green islands
called kejfi, which are divided by dangerous and intri-
cate channels. From the coast the ground rises gra-
dually into an elevated region covered with forests
and marshes, and interspersed with rivers and lagoons.
The climate is moist, but is said to be less unhealthy
than that of the West Indies, especially during the
wet *ea*on. (See No. 70.) The ehores and river banks
are covered with a deep and rich alluvial soil, capable
of yielding most European as well as tropical products.
The forests abound with some of the finest timber-
trees, including mahogany and logwood, which are the
staple productions of the settlement, and the cutting
of which is the principal employment of the settlers.
The profit*, however, of thia trade are exceedingly pre-
carious. Cassava, yams, arrowroot, and maize, are
grown, but only for homo consumption; cocoa and an
mfcrior kind of indigo are indigenous. Oranges and
many other fine fruit* are very abundant. European
cattle and other domestic animals thrive greatly. The
jaguar, tapir, armadillo, racoon, gray fox, deer of
various kinds, and a vast number of monkeys, abound
in the settlement; birds and fish are in great variety;
and shell-fish are particularly plentiful. Many turtles
are also taken on the coasts and *ent even to London.'
. Honduia* i* govenied by a luperintendent uomi-

nated by the crown, and by Nvan tnaglttrata* alaetad
annually by the people, lleliaa ia the onlr town and
port, and la built upon both aidaa of the river of that
name. The houses, constructed of wood, ar* raised
eight or ten feet above the ground on jiillara of maho-
gany; iMipulation between 4000 and AOOO, of whom
only a f'uw hundreda nte whitea. The port of Belise
offer* con*iderable facilitie* for *hipping, and ha* of
late year* beooma the d*p6t of British merohandlae
destined for the Central States. In 1843, the exports
from Honduras to Britain exceeded £864,000; the
imports from Britain about £120,000,

Little requires to be said respecting the trade of
Canada, or uf British America ceiierally. To Halifax,
Quebec, Montreal, St John, and other ports, shipment*
of English manufactured goods and foreign produce ar*
regularly made, chiefly in spring and autumn, and the
produce returned is wood, fish, oil, potashes, salted beef
and pork, some butter and cheese, and of late a not
inconsiderable supply of wheat and flour. The total
of our exports to British America was, in 1846, about
£3,308,0,5.0, while the military and civil expenditure
incurred by the mother country is generally little short
of £500,000, thus showing that, as regards commerce,
Britain loses a considerable sum yearly by maintaining
these colonies. British America is highly favoured by
being permitted to send its produce at comparatively
low duties to the home country; but from lack of ci^iital
or enterprise, this does nut appear to have so important
an effect as might be expected on the prosperity of the
colonies. The comparatively independent, easy, and
comfortable circumstances, with light taxes, experienced
by colonial farmers, may perhaps account most natu-
rally for the absence of ambition or enterpriae among
a scantily-educated and plain-living people.

OHEEKLANO.

This extensive insular or peninsular region — for it*
northern-frontier is still undefined — occupies the north-
eastern comer of the North American continent, and,
together with the adjacent island of Iceland, is subject
to Denmark. Surrounded, so far a* is known, by the
ocean, it lie* compactly to^^ethcr, presenting compara-
tively few of those inlets and sounds usually so charac-
teristic of northern regions. It is described an ' a barren
mountainous country, nearly the whole surface of which
is covered with peq>etual ice and snow; which in many
parts form glaciers to the very shores, where they ap-
pear as icy cliflii several hundred feet high.' The eastern
coast generally rises in high masses of rock and ice
close to the shore, and is beset during the whole year
with enonnous masses of ice which render vegetation al-
most impossible, and the fishing exceedingly precarious).
Accordingly, only a few Esquimaux inhabit this quar-
ter. The western shores (in Baffin's Bay) are also high
and rugged, but being more indented by inlets, and less
rigorous in climate, they are not so much encumbered
with ice, and are more sheltered along the low grounds,
which present a scanty vegetation of lichens, mosses,
dwarf birch, and willow. The land animals are — the
reindeer, the polar bear, the dog, hares, and foxes; the
marine — whales, walruses, seals, cod and other fish, and
sea -fowl in abundance. This region is accordingly
better peopled, and it is here that the Danes have
established a few petty settlements, cllefly commercial
and missionary. The native population is estimated
at COOO or 7000, and the European at ISO or 160.

The chief employments are fishing, iieal-hunting,
and fowling; the settlers attempt the rearing of pota-
toes and a few culinary vegetables, and also the feed-
ing of a few sheep, but, it must be confossed, with very
indifferent success. The main dependence of the
country is on its marine resources; hence the Dane*
export from their different settlements train-oil, fish,
whalebone, sealskins, fur, and eider downs — the trade
giving employment to five or six vessels. The impurts
in return are principally coffee, tobacco, snuff, and
brandy. The country also reaps aome advantage from

297

ORAMBiiiM nrfoftitinoir tot Tint meopia

Ik* ttHOMroui wiMlinf tmmU wkich flwaaml D*flii'i
Bay Mid DatU* Htnlta. NcrarthalMi U U » poor,
dnary, Mtd inkoipitoblt, though not unhMlthr ngion,
oAring BO iaduMiUMita wkatovar to tlto oiTUlMu Mttlwr.

UNITBD tlATn.

Thaw 8t«tM oooupv the midUU dlviiion of tho eon-
tinant, and u* bounatd on the north by Dritlth Am**
rio»! oMt br Britiah Amarica and tha Atlnutio; louth
by tha Oulf and ranubllo of Mazioo; uid wait by tha
PaoiAo; haring a frontier line of about lU.OUO iiiilei,
» Mtt-cuait of 3000, and lake-coaat of 1200. Thev
extend from latitude 25" to 4U'' north, »nd from longi-
tude 66* 50' to 124° weit; the greateit length bein^
8000 roilea, and greateit breadth about 1170. The
area, inoluding TeiM, California, and tho ttill unor-
ganiiad torritoriei, ii vagueljr oitiniated at 2,220,000
■auara milaa, with » population of 18,000,000, of whom
l7,06S,SAS belong to the Union Proper.

Tho Utkittd Slaht wera originally liritiih coloniei,
but in 1776 deolarad thetnielvea indejiendent. At that
time tha territory extended only from the Atlantic
to tha Miaaiaaippi : all the country to the.weit of that
rirer balonged to France; Florida to Spain; and Texai
to tha Mexican Confederation. In 1U03, Louiiiana or
tba French territory waa addnd by purohaae; in lUlO
Florida waa ceded in compeniatiun for ipoliationi on
American commerce; in 1U4'J, Texiu (wnioh had re-
Tolted from Mexico in 1X35, and erected itielf into an
independent republic) became part of the Union bv
Toluntary annexation; and in 1U40, California, which
bad revolted from Mexico in 1U36, also joined the
Union, thui giring to the Statea a leaboard on the
weit almoat aa valuable ai that which forma their
•aitarn boundary. The only itatei in the Confedera-
tion at ita flnt formation were the thirteen marked
with an * in tha annexed table; all tho rest have been
formed out of tho new territories, and partly by sub-
dividing the original thirteen : —

•tatot.

Kortkem—
Maine, - -
Nowllampshlro,*
Vermont, - -
Maasaoliuutt*,*
Rhode UUnd,«
Conneotlout,* -

MUUIe-
New York,* - -
New Jersey,* •
Pennsylvania,* •
Delaware,* - -
Maryland,* - -

Soulhtrn—
Virginia,*- - •
N. Carolina,* -
H. Carolina,* • •
tieorgia,* - -
Alalunm. - -
Mlislsclpp.. -
Ijoulsiauu, - -

WetUm—
Ohio, ■ - ■ ■
Kentucky, - -
lennesaoc, - -
Mlchlgim, • -
Indiana, - - -
Illinois, • - -
Missouri, - - -
Arkansas, - -

DitlrM nf—
Columbia,- - -

Ttrriloriii—
Florida, ■ - ■
'Wisconsin, - -
Iowa, . . ■ .
Texas, - ■ • -
Oregon, - - -
CalUbrr-la, - •

8q. HUes. PopuUktton. Chief Towns.

as.too

0,100
9.700
7,800
l,Sfil
4,780

4«,»0
7.948

4<1,!I1S
S.OAg

10,705

es.ioo
fii,«as

II, Mi
61,683
Si ,084
49,3Se
47,4M

40,SOO
40,0»
41,7SS
60,S37
U,<M
M.SOA
70,020
84,617

100

J7.\,'.">
Itri.ft ,

MI ,703
X84,S74
Wl,»t8
737,<09
108,H30
300,078

>,428,9!1
373,806

1,7:>4,0S3

78,083

470,010

1,539,707
733,419
694,308
G»l,.t92

soo.Tsa

373,661
35S,41I

1,319,464
770,8»i
8S9,S10
Sli,M7
686,866
476,183
383,708
97,674

43,712

H,477

43,118
lOO.C.O

Augusta.

Concord.

Montpvlior.

lioaton.

I'ruvldono.'.

UartforU.

Albany.

Trenton.

IlarrlMliur^.

Itovcr.

Annapolis.

Itlrlimond.

Kalelgh.

Colunibln.

Mlllidgovilli'.

TuHoaloosu.

Jackson.

New Orleans.

Columbufi.
Frankfort.
Nashville.
Detroit.
Indianapolis.
Springfield.
Jeffiirson City.
Little Ruck.

Washinoton.

Tallahnsscc.

Mndison.

Iowa City.

Ausi.in.

Astir?-,

San i tiuiclsoo.

The tenritorie«> ot Floi.-l?, Wiaoonain, , i.d Iowa,

formed in 1836, are " ider / ^uiar goTemmenta eatab-

liahad by Congraw, but not vet admitted aa independent

atatei; TezM ntaini, we belieTe, iti own reput>liaai>

aS8

admiaiatratlon aa adopted in 1835. With reipact te
tha unorganiaad tarritoriei, that on tlit Kaniaa haa
bean given to the natives for a pcrinanaut abode; and
within tha last twenty years many thousand Chsrokeeiu
Creeks, (^hoctaws, and other tribes, have been carried
thither from east tli Mississippi, with a pledge that
they shall not be i;{ain compelled to remove. The
Missouri territory .i almost exclusively occupied by
the wild Pawnees, lllockfaet, and other Indians; the

Oregon, lying !>•
" " ' lat.

betnuen the Hocky Mountains ami tha
Paolttc, and lat. 42" and 40* north, is also chiefly Oi'cu<
pied by natives, with a sprinkling of tranpers, and
others connected with tlio fur-trade forts of the !ti<d«
son's liay Company, and a few straggling ,:ltleru since
the boundary settlement in 1U47; and Culfomia, tho
youngest member of the Union, though possessing »
sort of independent government before the treaty of
union in 1848, is in reality an unorganised region in>
habited by native tribes, hunting and trapping adven-
turers of Spanish origin, and latterly of adventurers of
every character and description in search of gold ore
in the alluvial deposita of ita rivers.

Population.

The dominant population, aa already stated, are of
European orjgin. Ihose of Engliili descent are found
chiafly in the eastern states, Virginia, and the Caro-
linos; the (Jtrmant abound in the middle states, par-
ticularly Pennsylvania, where they oonstitut< thrpi.
fourths of the population ; the descendants of tY j Ihil V,
are numerous near the iludson and Mohawk iii Nvv
York, of which state they were the orif^inul settlers j
the Fi-ench still form nearly half the inii.tbitonts of
Louisiana; the Irith and Scotch are numerous in the
western parts of Pennsylvania, Virginia., and the Caro-
linas, and in most of the largo cities of Uio Union ; the
Negrota are found chiuflv in the states south of Penn-
sylvania and the rivur Ubio; parties of Spanish descent
are to be found in California and Tsxas ; and i)<e
native Indiana, amounting perhaps to fi00,0U0, are now
entirely west of the Mississippi.

The rapid increase of population in the United Statci
is one of the most interesting circumstances connected
with their history. When the general style of living
ti .ong any people is comfortable, and they continue at
.he same time to odd rapidly to their numbers, it is a
proof that their country affords abundant resources
ibi' Hubsistcnco, and that they have industry and skill
to turn these to good account. England doubles the
number of her people in about one hundred yean,
Scotland in one hundrod and fifty; in America they are
doubled in about twenty-fire years; and it is reckoned
that, by the end of a century from this date, if the
same increase continues, the American population will
be more than 200,000,000 — a number greater than
that of any nation at present speaking one language
on the face of the earth. From the rapidity with
which successive generations come forward, it is gene-
rally remarked that the number of aged persons in any
neighbourhood appears email compared with the mul-
titudes of young people by . ' m '^iy s'a surrounded;
and from the same reoioa .,liu i u i^L.i of individuals
I low sixteen, who in o*t.(. civjii'i'' • "m hardi;.
third of the population, • •'•i '■" - lully one-hull'
of the whole. The popuL r succebaive periods has

been given as follows from the official census : —

Population in 1700,

1800, -
1810,
18S0, -
I8i0,
' ... 1840, -

Thete returns show an average increase of 33 per cent,
in ten yean — a rate incomparably greatei than haa
ever been witnessed in any other country. The num-
ber of penona who come from Europe to lettle in the
Stftiet u eetimated Twioualy, fW>m 8000 to 12,000

AVhito People.

Bhwks.

- 3,0S9,8S7

607,897

6,30S,OS9

803,041

- 7,239,814

1,101,364

0,638,131

1,538,064

- 1S,866,OSO

2,009,031

17,063,353

2,487,359

KOHTB AMERICA.

or 16,000 yt%t\j\ tt<o mv* aeourkU McounU inolln*
to th« furnitr •Ut«n«nt.

Ai might b« txpeotMl, many of th« cltUi in tht
Union hav« riion with unparallelaU rftpidity, Miti now
ooutain large popuUtioni. Thu* the population of New
York in 1830 wai -JO.'l.OO?: m lo, ai'J.nO; and in
1845. 871, I0'.>: Phlladolpliin in I l(i7,llU;in IH4U,

368,037: lUltimore in 11130, iU),i,j.>; n Ui40, 134,370:
NtwUrleani in 1U3U. 4(i,3l' in llUU, I ".'.inii that
ii naarlr trebling iti inlml < <> tvu ^eau
ton in 1830, (tl,39'J; in liM. ; aiiU in KM ,

114,366; Cincinnati in lli;«', -.'t,!!;)! i >i> > ;" ii; :i»ll :
and lirooklvn, the laet exuuji nwhidi >ve,

ia,04a in 183U; 3(i,-.>33 iu lll4ii, ml .VJ^M u, I'l^al

13 p«r cent,
tnan haa
The num-

ittle in the
to 12,000

OoYBmnicnt— Army— N»vy.

£ach of the Engliih colonici, aa they lettlud in Anie-
rioa, had had a certain form of goTaniiuent atiigned it
for maintaining the necoxarv order. This conaiatad
generally of a lluuie of Aiaembly, choaen by the people, I
witb sorernor, judgoa, and other ofBceri, aiipointed by
the king, but paid out of taxea levied by the roproaen-
'atirea. On acquiring independence alter their war
''H the mother country, the dill'erent cnloniea, now
'ulled SlcUei, made auch alterationa, each in ita own
I ">natitutioD, aa they belioTed to bo auited to their cir-
cuiaatuncea; and a general goTcrnment, framed and
appointed by the conaent of the whole, waa formed to
take charge of auch national atluira aa the atatea could
not manage aeparutely. The Statea have each a Senate
and Houao of Rcproaentativea ; the membera of the
former are fewer in number than thoae of the latter,
and a part of them only ia choaon at each election, ao
that they remain in orace for aeveral yeara, generally
four: the Houae of Roproaentativea ia elected anew
every year. The rcaolutiooa agretd to by these two
bodiea for the government of the atate, are afterwards
aubmitted to a preaident or eovernnr, whoso sanction
constitutes thorn part of the law. Both senators and
reprcsontatirea are paid for their attendance on the
public buaiuesa, generally at the rate of two dollars
(or 9s. sterling) per day, besides an allowance for
travelling expenses. The right of election resides in
tho people under certain limitations: in aomo atates
the possession of a certain property (about £60) is re-
quired in the electors: in others, the regular payment
of certain taxes: in all, a residence in toe state vary-
ing from two years to aix months, is requisite. Uut
there are only eight of the atatea in which block people
are allowed to give votes. The judges and other magis-
trates are in some atatea elected by the people; in others,
by the governor, aubject to tho approval of the two
Uouaea: and their tenure of oliice ia ni some for a term
of years; in others, during good behaviour; and in so-
reral, till the holder attain a certain age (about 70).

The general government of the United States is, like
that of the atates individually, a representative demo-
cracy, in w^ich the people intrust the lulminiatration of
offaira to «xecutive and legislative otficers of their own
choice. At the head of tlie executive is a President,
who, wit!) a vice-president, ia elected every four years,
and niuiii be a native-bom citi/,en of the States. The
legislative body consists of two Houses — the Senate and
House of Representatives. Tho membera of both Houses
receive IKis. per day, with travelling expenges. The
Sennte is composed of two from each state, chosen by
its legislature for aix years. The ntembers are required
tcji W at least thirty years of age, to have lived nine
yiu-M in t^ I 'iiited States, and to be at the time of
el<N'(i<«i r<i«ideut8 in the state by which they are re-
turned. The House of Represontativea ia chosen an-
nually, iMid the members are required to be at least
twenty- Cour yoars ni' age; to have resided three or
fuiur yean u tliu statH far which they are chosen; and,
in imv or two ui the dvttricta, t" paseia a certain pro-
perty. There ia un« reprvwntative nearly for every
40,000 persons, five bl»< k men being rtickoned in this
enumeration equal to thru- white. The Houae of Re-
preientfttiTea perfofiua tk« Uutiei idlotted by tke British

constitution to the Commons' Itouio of Parllamoni,
and haa the right, like tham, of orlglnallng all blUa
fur raiaing revenue ; while the 8«natt, un the other
hand, axoroiaea the anaiogoua IVinctiona of our House
of l^rda, Hill* which have passed the two HouMa
have not tho aanotion of law till they are aigued by tho
preaident, or, on bia rol\isal, are voted a second time
by two-thirda of each of the llouaca. The Preaident,
Senate, and House uf Ranrasentulivea, arc called the
Cimgrrtt of the United States, and their powera in
in, king regulations concerning public affairs are de-
t <aU and limiicd by th<> oilKinal articles of the con-
aiit«tion. Congreia ia pr<'l ted, for example, front
luaking any law concern. catablirhment or frea
exi'i 'so of religion, the lib«i> »f the pruaa, and free*
dom u( •<'H"-h, or tint privilagi publio meetinga to
expreaa the )Mfi oiia on the ni> res of govemmant,
I'ha judit .al power in vetted iu ii aupi ''ma court,
'id in auch inferior courta as Cm\g. i may from tim*)
inii Mtu ish. The supreme court consists of n.
I'. ■ justice n. I aix associate justices, who hn aooun
iu " city ot Washington annually ; beside, which,
eaci A^o attends in certain districts to hold Ircuit
ooui ' with the local justices. The proccases of la v aro
in general simpit: and direct, and are not ule dilli uU
of access to tho piMir 'v any burdensome i nsas,

Accordixir to the institution, bU mvi .ira equn .
none posses ng aii ioreditary rank "vcr ihe othc
but this uiii rsal I id broadly defined laiu' >le of di
mocracy is ii iiitirc.. by the circumstance of i i ere bain
upwanla of J.Jon.OOO blacks forcibly detainud in thi
condition of ^iln oa, braidea upwarda of "iiOiOOO of a
free coloured f"> ilation, who aro shunn( as an infi
rior race, land iod various social udvaiitageii. Thu
constitutiou is i> Iter defective in practice, I7 being
evidently incapu ' of restraining popular violence ;
for it is an incoi. c8ta>''e fact, that mobs frequently
defeat the r>r%erati( of the law, when distaste: il to
their feelin^i and c. umit ffagraut acts of severity upon
individuals. Perhiii a better state of education may
remedy this great g. 'vance; meanwhile, it is too im-
portant a feature ii tho political condition of tho
people to be passed i r in silence. Generally speak-
mg, it may be said i it popular opinion ia tho ab-
solute governing powei in the States, and cannot bo
withstood by any spnci' ' of opposition. Popui.ir opi-
nion, whether ri^'ht or rong, enforces uniformity iu
external behaviour and 1 ufession of belief to a degree
which would bo <lcnouni d as despotic if exercised in
a monarchical country.

The expense at which . le entire government oi the
States ia conducted, including the military and naval
departments, is on a singularly economical scale. In
1846 tho gross revenue < the States amounted to
29,499,247 dollars,* and th. expenditure to 28,031,114}
in 1U47 the revenue was 'J ,346,790 dollars, and tho
expenditure (augmented l the war with Mexico)
59,451,177. In 184(>' tho national debt was 24,256,495
dollars; in 1847 it was incn :>aed to 45,659,659, at an
annual interest of 1,059,039 'loilars. The chief source
of revenue is the customs, amounting in 1846 to
26,712,667 dollars, and iu l«-i7 to 23,747,864; and tho
sales of public lands, amounting to 2,694,452 dollars
in 1846, and to 2,498,355 in 1S47. The chief itcma of
expenditure are the civil list, which in 1847 amounted
to 2,562,008 dollarh; foreign intercourse, 391,113 dol-
lars; miscellaneous, 3,762,732; military eatabliahment,
13,579,428 dollars in 1846, and 41,281,606 in 1847;
naval establishment, 6,450,862 in 1846, and 7,931,633
.'n 1847. The increase of expenditure in 1847 is fully
a counted for by the war with Mexico: this also added
considerably to the national debt, as several loans had
to bo effected ; but as this war haa now terminated,
Mexico repaying the expense, and as the land sales
are again on the increase, not only will the revenue

* Tlie standard currency of the States is in dollars, silver coins
worth about 48. 3d. sterlinu; each; each dollar ii equal to 100 smalt
copper coins coUed cents, from cenlnm, a hundred.

299

GBAMBEBffS INtOBMATION FOft THE PEOPLS.

7'
li

excood tho expondituK, but a considsnble portion of
the debt b« annually cancelled.

The army, according to the law of 1842, contiits of
.4000 men; but the principal reliance of the country
for defence is in the militia of the Beveral states,
amounting altogether, in 1048, to l,01))i,.538 men. In
this body the men acquire a certain knowledge of
military exercises, but submit very little to subordi-
nation. There is a military academy for educating
roung men as officers; the number under tuition is
imited to 250 ; and the instruction given is well
fitted for training their minds to knowledge and gen-
tlemanly feelings: the course consists of natural and
experimental philosophy, mathematics, engineering,
ethics, drawing, and the usual militaiy exercises. The
young men educated here are received into the army
as ciulets, and their promotion is afterwards regulated
strictly by seniority, except in extraordinary cases.

The nary consisted in 1848 of 11 sliips of the line,
12 frigates of 44 gun: ^ frigates of 86 guns, 22 sl.-ops
o' war, 4 brigs, 10 looners, 5 bomb-vessels, 14
b mors, and G storc-sL ^is and brigs. The number of
captains in the same year was 67, commanders 97, 327
lieutenants, and midshipmen 428. Besides the regular
navy, there is also a marine corps, consisting, in 1848,
of o8 officers and 1353 men. There are seven navy-
yards, of which the principal are on Long Island, near
New York, at Philadelphia, and at Washington. Recent
events mav have caused an alteration in this summary
of the military and naval force.

Religion and Education.

All forms of religion are equally favoured by the state
in America, and the members of all have equal privi-
leges. None of the clergy are paid by government, or
out of public property, in any shape; they depend for
their salaries entirely upon the congregations for which
they officiate, and by which they are elected. The
bishops, ministers, elders, or other officers, are chosen
by the members of each persuasion, according to their
several forms of church government, without the inter-
vention of any other party. There are a great number
of different denominations of Christians in America;
the principal are the same as in this country, consisting
of Catholics, Protestant Episcopalians, Presbyterians,
Quakers, and the various classes of Independents. In
some of tho states there are certain denominations
more prevalent than others. New England, for in-
stance, was settled by the Puritans in Cromwell's time,
and its religious condition beam the impress of that
origin. Maryland was colonised by Roman Catholics,
who arc still numerous there; Pennsylvania by the
Quakers or Friends ; while Episcopacy prevailed in
Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia. The first Pres-
byterians came from England, Scotland, and Ireland,
and settled in Delaware and New Jersey. If the' whole
population of the States were divided into twelve parts,
three of them would be Calvinists, chiefly of tho Inde-
pendent and Presbyterian sects ; two Baptists ; two
Methodists; one Episcopalians and Lutherans. The
test include persons of many various foniis of 'jelief,
and a considerable number who follow no definite or
recognised religious profession.

There are about sixty colleges and seminaries for the
education of young men deviated to the church, of all
the different sects. In New York, it is found that there
is 1 clergyman to every 1384 of the population ; in
Pennsylvania there is 1 to every 1123; in Kentucky,
1 to every 1377 of the white inhabitants. In Great
Britain, the proportion is 1 to every 800 or 900 — in
Europe generally, 1 to eve.-y 1000. It nmat be recol-
lected, however, that in America this whole number
are actually employed in the ministry: there arc none
of them who are merely dignitaries, or who hold offices
without labouring for the instruction of the people :
this renders the proportion of actual religious teachers
greater than at nrst sight it appears, when compared
with the number of clergymen in European countries.

The remarks we have here made apply excluiirely
300

to the New England states, and to the older settled dis<
tricts of the east; they may also perhaps be extended
to the lowni of the newly-formed western states, in
which much attention is given to religion. In the slave
countries, however, this condition is altogether reversed.
North Carolina, with a population of 600,000, has hard' -^
fifty clergymen; and South Carolina, with 420,000 in-
habitants, has not more than forty. In Georgia there
were only ten in 1818. In Virginia, the population is
about 1,000,000 ; the number of clergymen not 100.
The situation of Maryland is similar.

In the countries on the Ohio, Michigan, &o. whl:h
are in progress of settlement, there are no regular
churches except in towns; the only opportunity the
colonists have of attending sacred ordinances being at
field-meetings, which are neld in the forests, and are
sometimes continued for several days. The first settlers
in these districts are generally rude men, and little
heedful of religious matters; but these meetings serve
to keep alive among them a feeling of what is due to
their character in this respect, and, as the population
becomes more dense, gradually lead to the establish-
ment of regular pastors and churchec.

The state of the people in respect to education is very
diffisrent in different parts of the States. In the old
settled districts, the proportion of well-informed and
well-educated people is greater than in most countries
of Europe. In the slave states of the south, and in the
western districts, which are as yet only occupied by a
thinly-scattered population, the number who can read
and write is very small in proportion to the population.
Some idea of these difiierent conditions in respect to
education, may be formed from the following account of
the number of students at college in the different dis-
tricts in proportion to tho whole inhabitants of each: —

In tho eastern or free states, I student to 1S31 inhabitants,
middle slave states, 1 ... 3103
southern slave states, 1 ... 7233
western or now status, 1 ... 6<M!0

According to the census of 1040, there were 173 uni-
versities and colleges (including theological and medi-
cal institutions), with 16,233 students; 3242 academics
and grammar -dchools, with 164,156 students; and
47,209 common and primary schools, with 1,845,244
scholars — or about I in 9 of the entire population. In
1848, there were within the Union 118 colleges, with
897 professors and 10,898 students; 42 theological
schools, with 118 professors and 1317 students; 12
law schools, with 21 professors and 385 students; and
36 medical schools, with 238 professors and 4727
students.

In the New England states the means of instruction
provided for the children of the labouring classes are
in general such as to put the knowledge of reading,
writing, and arithmetic, within the reach of all. Every
state has a public fund set apart for paying the salaries
of teachers; and if this is not sufficient to provide one
for each township, the inhabitants are expected to
assess themselves to make up the deficiency. They
generally elect school-committees, who build school-
houses, choose teachers, and apportion funds, according
to the necessities of each parish. Children are entitled
to attend at these seminaries without any charge but
that of paying for the books which they use. In order
further to secure the education of young people who
may be obliged to go early to service, it is common in
these states to stipulate schooling as part (if their wages.
The result of all this is, that the number of peo])le of
the working-classes who can read and write is here fully
greater than in any country of Europe, not even ex-
cepting Scotland or Switzerland. The means of edu-
cation are seldom awanting, while the wages of the
labouring classes enable them to provide books, and to
maintain their children at school for a longer period
than can be easily done in Europe, where their services
are soon reauired to assist in maintaining the family.
It is remarked, that ' though the number of learned
and Kicntific characters ii much imaller than in France

NORTH AMERICA.

et fettled d!«<
I be extended
irn itatei, in
In the slave
ther rercrted.
K), has hard I V
h 420,000 in-
Oeorgia there
population is
nrien not 100.

nn, &o, which
B no regular
|)ortunity the
noes being at
rests, and are
e first settlers
!n, and little
(leetings serve
hat is due to
le population
the ostablish-

ication is very
In the old
informed and
lost countries
th, and in the
)ccupied by a
who can read
le population,
in respect to
Ing account of
different dis-
its of each: —

inhabltaixU.

■ere 173 uni-
!al and medi-

'2 academics
iidents ; and
Ith 1,845,244
lulation. In

ollegefi, with
theological
students; 12
tudents; and
rs and 4727

instruction

<; classes are

of reading,

all. Every

the salaries

provide one

expected to

ency. They

luild schoof-

ds, according

are entitled

Y charge but

9. In order

I>eople who

common in

f their wages,

of people of

is here fully

lot even ex-

eans of edu-

'ages uf the

ooks, and to

3nger period

heir services

the family.

of learned

ui in France

or England, the mass of the population are better in*
formed than in either of these countries. Reading the
journals universally, and knowing a little of what is
doing at home and throughout the world conerally,
they betray none of that awkwardness which springs
from conscious ignorance,'

It must not be supposed, however, that this general
account of the state of education applies eaually to
every district. It relates, indeed, chiefly to the great
towns, and to the thickly-peopled places in their neigh-
bourhood. The remote townships, which in a country
so lately occupied form a large proportion of the whole
area, are frequently as much deficient in the means of
instruction as in regard to religious edification ; and
they have indeed little anxiety to improve themselves.
Many of them pay no attention to the regulations for
establishing schools, and, were it left to themselves,
would allow their people to remain as they are, without
either reading or writing. In America, however, as in
most other free countries, the well-informed portion of
the community is the most active, and, like the little
leaven which leavens the whole lump, it is continually
at work to stir up a desire for information and light in
all the dark places around it. In all the newly-settled
states, lands have been allotted for the erection of aca-
demies, and the establishment of regular district or
parochial schools, according as the population increases;
640 acres are generally set apart in each township for
this purpose, besides one or two entire townships in each
state for university funds.

Minerals— Mining.

There is a great variety of useful minerals distributed
through different parts of the States. Coal may be
mentioned among the first : it exists through all the
country, lying north of a line drawn from Philadelphia
to the mouth of the Ohio, and is particularly abundant
on the upper waters of the Susquehanna, as well as
on the Alleghany and the Monongahela, At Pittsburg
there is a hill principally composed of coal, and it is
found at many places in this district within a few feet
of the surface. There are extensive coal-mines also
on the Roanoke and Apporaatox in Virginia. In 1840
thvie were raised in the States 27,603,191 bushel^ of
bituminous coal ; and 863,489 tons of anthracite.

The country on the Ohio is particularly rich in mi-
neral productions. The whole district is bottomed on
limestone, on which rests the wide and valuable coal
formation mentioned above, extending from the head
waters of the Ohio, in Pennsylvania, to the river
Tombigbee. Iron ore is found abundantly in the same
district, principally towards the upper part of the
Ohio; bog ore is found in the valleys of the Alleghany
chain ; and various kinds of ores of the same metal
are met with in the New England states. In 1840
there were produced 286,903 tons of cast-iron, and
1 97,233 tons of bar-iron. Black lead, in veins of from
five to six feet wide, traverses the states of New York,
Jersey, Virginia, Carolina, &c. Copper ore is found in
Virginia, in Connecticut, in New Jersey, and abundantly
in the neighbourhood of the lakes, and in Illinois.

Gold mines have been traced extending through a
large tract of country in the western parts of Virginia,
North and South Carolina, and Georgia : they are
wrought to a considerable extent, 2U,0U0 men being
employed at the different workings. The annual pro-
duce varies widely — ranging from £120,000 to thrice
that amount; but we have not heard what proportion
of this is expended in the work, or what actual profit
has been realised. One singular fact is remarked con-
cerning these mines, which is, the indubitable evi-
dences found that they have been wrought at some
period before America was known to the Europeans.
Many pieces of machinery which were used for this
purpose have been discovered in the workings, among
which were several crucibles of earthenware, which
are far better than those now in use. Since 1848, the
gold diggings of California have thrown the mines of
the soutuern states, aa well m those of every other

region, in the shade; the produce ii evidently immense,
but current reports are yet too vague to be of anything
like statistical value.

Silver and its ores are notof frequent or extensive
occurrence. Mercury has been found native in Ken-
tucky, but it occurs plentifully in the ore as bituminous
cinnabar, through the Ohio and Michigan territory.
It is found in the soil as a black or red sand, some-
times aa a fine red powder, and at other times in iron
day. There are lead mines of vast extent on the
Missouri; they are said to occupy a surface of 600
miles in length, and 200 in breadth. One miner will
raise about 2000 lbs. per dav, which sell for 45 dollars,
and yield 1200 lbs. of pure lead. In 1840, the amount
of pig lead exceeded 31,200,000 lbs.

Epsom salts, Glauber salts, and nitre, are found in
Ohiaand Indiana; the two latter in caves, the former
in a thin layer on rocky surfaces. Salt, which in coun-
tries far removed from the sea is an article of great
expense, is produced from salt springs, or from borings
in different parts of the western country. Mineral
waters of valuable medicinal qualities occur at several
places; the springs principally frequented are those of
Saratoga in New England.

Agrlculttu'e and Crops.
In point of productive industry the United States
is yet more an agricultural than a manufacturing
country, though of late years an immense impetus has
been given to the latter department, Oats, rye, and
barley are raised in all the northern states, and also in
the hilly districts of the south. Of barley, two crops
in a season ary obtained in favourable situations.
Maize is common to every part of the Union, but
thrives best in the middle states; it is a vegetable
adapted to a greater variety of soil and cliniatc than
wheat, and yields a much larger produce. The sugar
niajile grows eveiywhere, but thrives best in the good
maize districts. Wheat is also cultivated through the
whole Union; but it is only a profitable crop to the
north of the Potomac, or in the hilly districts of the
south; in these situations it yields largo returns, and
of excellent quality; in the low warm districts it is
not cultivated; these are more favourable to the rice
crop. In general, it is remarked that the late wheat
countries are favourable to the European constitution,
and that in rice countries, which are warm and moist,
the African population has a great advantage in respect
to health and longevity over whites.

The cultivation of tobacco begins in Maryland, in
latitude 39°; it is raised to a greater extent in that
state and in Virginia than in any others of the Union ;
but it thrives also in all the western states. Cotton
does not succeed well farther north than the latitude of
37°, though some of the districts raise it for domestic
use; it forms the staple of all the districts south of the
river Roanoke, The best kinds grow in South Carolina
and Georgia, in dry situations, upon the sea-coast. The
cultivation of rice occupies nearly the same region as
that of cotton ; it is a very unhealthy occupation for the
slaves who are engaged in it. The cliniatc which is
favourable to sugar does not extend beyond the latitude
of 32° ; it is raised in the States chiefly for aomestic
use, and is not an article of export to any extent. The
crop is rather precarious, from the frosts which some-
times occur even in the most southerly districts. Indigo
has been tried in America, but could not come into
competition with that of Bengal. The vine grows spon-
taneously in most of the southern and western states,
and is cultivated as a fruit about Philadelphia. The
mulberry-tree, hops, and hemp, all succeed well in the
middle and western states.

The timber-trees of the States are of numerous kinds,
and many of them of the best quality. There are
twenty-six kinds of oak, of which eleven or twelve
species are in request; the best for common purposes
is the toldte oak, a tree which is found plentifully over
the whole country: the live oaib grows in marshy places
near the sea, and has a hard, heavy, and durable timber,

301

CHAMBERS'S IKF0R]i[ATI05 FOR THE PEOPLE.

much used for shipbuilding. Thero are eighteen kinds
of pme, cedar, and larch; seven kinds of maple, three
or four of which lUmish sugai^-the best is called the
■near maple; ten kinds of walnut-trees; four kinds of
birch, the bark of one of which furnishes the Indians
with canoes; six kinds of ash (the ash of this country
is not of the number); besides many other trees, of
Ycrv useful qualities. There are one hundred and thirty
kinds which rise to a height of more than thirty feet;
while in I-'rance there are only thirty-seren of that size.
The flowering shrubs, kalmia and rhododendron, which
are cultivated here with so much attention for their
splendid flowers, grow wild on the sides of the Ameri-
can hills, to the height of fifteen or twenty feet. _ Even
in the most thickly-peopled states there are still re-
maining large tracts of uncleared woodlands, which
give the country a wild appearance, and form an aspect
on the whole very different from anything seen in
Europe, where forests have long been too valuable to
be allowed to remain uncut.

The crops of the chief cultured articles in 1840, and
the states ranking highest in production . were as fol-
low : — Indian com, 377,531,876 bushels -Tennessee,
Kentucky, Virginia; wheat, 84,822,272 bushels— Ohio,
Pennsylvania, New York, Virginia; oats, 123,071,341
bushels — in the same states; rj'e, 18,G45,GS7 bushels —
Pennsylvania; barley, 4,161,504 bushels — New York;
potatoes, 108,298,0G0 bushels — New York and Maine;
hemp and flax, 95,252— Virginia; rice, 80,841,420 lbs.
— S. Carolina; tobacco, 219,163,319 lbs.— Virginia,
Kentucky; cotton, 790,479,275 lbs. — Mississippi, Geor-
gia, Louisiana, and Alabama; sugar, 115,110,809 lbs.
— cane in Louisiana, arid maple in the north; and silk,
61,522 lbs. — Connecticut. In the same year, the
live-stock was estimated at 4,335,669 horses and
mules; 14,971,586 neat cattle; 26,301,293 swine; and
1.0,311,374 sheep.

Manufootiuvs. ~

The vast extent of culturable and prolific land in
the United States, and the constant demand for large
supplies for food, form a reason why the nation should
resort more to agriculture than manufacturing industry
as a staple employment. The Americans, nevertheless,
from a strong desire to be independent of foreign coun-
tries for a supply of articles of clothing, have thrown
themselves energetically into a course of manufacturing
in relation both to soft and hard goods. At present
they arc engaged in a kind of rivalry with Britain, and
it is certain that they are fast overtaking it, both in
the excellence and cheapness of their products.

The manufactures which are followed with most ad-
vantage in America, and without fear of English rivalry,
are those which produce articles too bulky or too heavy,
in proportion to their value, to bear the expense of a
long carriage, or of which the materials are found in
the country, and can be wrought up there at less ex-
pense than by carrying them to cheaper tradesmen at
a distance. Some of these branches may be mentioned
— such as the making of soap, candles, and hats; tan-
ning and working in leather, particularly bulky articles;
building of carriages; making of all kinds of ogricul-
tural implements ; carjientry, sawing, and turning of
most descriptions; building of ships and steamboats;
constructing and putting up of mill-work and ma-
chinery; distilling; the employments of goldsmiths,
tinsmiths, and printers. There arc several businesBcs,
however, whose prospects depend chiefly on prohibiting
the cheaper manufactures of England, and which of
course are liable to be deranged by any alteration in the
tarifl'laws : these are the making of glass and earthen-
ware; spinning and weaving most kinds of cotton goods;
making of v oollens, rar]>ets, &c. ; most of the finer
kinds of hardware, iron, steel, and brass; hempen goods
and silk goods.

Within the last few yea.- '>e manufacture of cotton
has been conducted on a great scale by means of fac-
tories on the same plan as those in England. The cotton
manufacture wa« introduced only in 1700, and iu 1832
801

it WM fbund that the number of mills in twelve states
was 795, of spindles 1,246,503, of power-looms 38,506;
of males emnloyed in the manufacture 18,639, females
38,927— total employed, 57,466. The amount of capital
now invested in this thriving branch of trade, is esti-
mated at 50,000,000 dollars, equal to £10,000,000 ster-
ling, being about a fourth part of the capital invested
in the cotton manufacture in Great Britain. By pro-
curing the cotton cheaper than can be done in England,
the Americans have an important advantage) wages,
however, are higher. The principal cotton manufac-
turing districts are in Massachusetts, Maine, and other
states on the coast. The chief seat of the manufacture
is Lowell in Massachusetts, and it may be termed the
Manchester of America. Besides containing at least
a dosen factories for cotton and woollen fabrics, Lowell
possesses large machine-making establishments, which
employ many hundreds of workmen.

Household manufactures of woollen, linen, and cotton,
are made to a great extent. Many families spin, weave,
and make up their own clothing, sheeting, table-linen,
&c. They purchase cotton, and mix it up in the yam
with their linen and woolleu stuffs;' blankets, quilts,
coverlids, stockings, mits, &c. are made chiefly in the
family. These are perhaps neither so fine nor made so
expeditiously as those of regular tradesmen ; but they
are produced for domestic use at times when there is
no other employment, and in this manner may be said
to cost nothing except the material of which they are
made. It is supposed that nearly two-thirds of the
domestic clothing is so made in country places, many
families, as in Canada, having a loom in the house. It
is the same with soap, candles, and maple-sugar, all of
which are manufactured by the farmers at home, At-
tempts have recently been made, with great success, to
introduce the manufacture of silk; the mulberry -tree
grows spontaneously in the middle states, and the light
eosy labour which the collecting of the silk requires
would aflPord emplovment to old people and females,
enabling them to add to the income of their families,
when they could not otherwise be able to do anything.
Distillation and brewing are conducted upon a large
scale, there being not lebs than 41,402,627 gallons pro-
duced in 1840; and a little wine is made in North Ca-
rolina and other places. Shipbuilding is extensively
followed in Maine and Massachusetts. In 1848, there
were 1598 vessels of all sorts built within the Union,
having a tonnage of 243,732.

In the southern states there is little manufacturing ;
the inhabitants there depend on the northern states
or on foreign countries for their supplies, and their
exports are cotton, sugar, and other raw materials.

Commerce.

The wealthiest class in the United States is gene-
rally the merchants of large seaport towns. Commerce
may be considered as forming the aristocracy of that
country, and is regarded everywhere as highly honour-
able. Young people are educated for it with as much
care as for tne army, or for any of the learned pro-
fessions. The manufactures and markets of foreign
states — the quality, value, and profits of every com-
mercial article — form the objects of their study, and
prepare them for engaging in business with system and
advantage. The same energy of choracter which has
brought English commerce to the highest pitch, is car-
rying forward the United States in a similar career,
but perhaps with undue speed. The chief fault of the
American coiuniercial character is an over-haste to be
rich. This 'go-ahead' policy leads to wild specula-
tions, on an extensive scale, which produce most disas-
trous results on the currency and finances of the
nation. At an interval of every few years, the banks
suspend payments of their notes in cash ; debts due to
foreign merchants and others cannot be liquidated, and
money is scarcely to be had.

In the year ending June 1847, 14,229 vessels, with a
tonnage of 3,.T2I,705, entered the ports of the United
States, and 14,370 vessels, with a tonnage of 3,378,998,

KORTH AMERICA.

cleared out. Of thi< Tast amount of (hipping more
than one-half belonged to the country — the number of
American vessela entering being 7730, with a tonnage
of 2,101,359, and of those clearing out 8102, with a
tonnage of 1,220,346. .In the same year, the grow
imports of the Union amounted to 146,545,688 doUars,
and the exports 158,648,622 : of which 150,637,462
cousisted of the growth, produce, and manufaQtures of
the States. The largest items of export were— cotton,
yielding upwardsof 53,000,000 dollars; flour,26,000,000;
Indian com, 14,000,000; tobacco, 7,000,000; ^rk, bacon,
lard, and lire hogs, 6,600,000 ; cotton piece goods,
4,000,000; rice, 8,600,000; and beef, tallow, hides, and
homed cattle, 2,400,000.

The immense number of navigable rirers which run
through the country in every direction, and discharge
themselves into the ocean or the lakes, aiford the means
of a great internal trade. These facilities have been
increased at many important points by canals, con-
necting the different rivers at points where they ap-
proach each other, or where they flow away in opposite
directions from sources lying in the same neighbourhood.
Between the southern and eastern states there is a con-
Htant interchange of commodities along the coast, and
a similar trade goes on from the western states to the
south, by the Ohio and its branches, down the Missis-
bippi. New Orleans is the great entrepot for the goods
of the latter branch of internal commerce. The north-
eastern states f_mish rum, molasses, cordials, dried
flsh, European goods of all descriptions, and articles of
small value, quaintly styled notions ; and they take in
return corn, grain, cotton, and tobacco, from the south;
while from the western states are received hams, beef,
Inrd, flour, &c. either for use or for exportation to the
West Indies and the other parts of Southern America.
The traffic from north to soui^h along the coast is greater
than might be inferred, even from this specimen of in-
ternal trade by the rivers; because the productions of
the northern and southern districts on the sea-coast are
as diflTerent from each other as those inland, while the
states in that part of the country have been longer
and more densely peopled. In 1848, there were up-
wards of 4000 miles of canal navigation ; and up-
wards of 10,000 miles of railway chartered, of which
about S/OBJ- were open. The roads, excepting those of
New England, and the national one from Baltimore to
St Louis on the Mississippi, 700 miles long, are very
indifferent, being little better than forest tracks.

Peculiarities of Different Districts.
Anierica is generally considered and spoken of as one
country, its people as forming a single nation, and the
remarks which are made with regard to one part of it
are supposed to be equally applicable to al!. No idea,
however, can be more fallacious. The region which
we term the United States is composed of sections of
country as remote from each other as London is from
Constantinople, or Madrid from Berlin: they lie under
different climates, and the different circumstances under
which their inhabitants are placed form in each a totally
different set of manners. The English language is
common to all, and they all profess the Christian reli-
gion ; but in most other respects the difference between
them is as great as between any two European nations.
The great divisions under which the country ought to
be viewed are the north-eastern or New England states,
in which for the present maybe included Pennsylvania;
2d, The southern or slave states, to which section also
we may refer Kentucky and Tennessee ; and 3d, The
new states of the west, which are in progress of settle-
ment. The manners of the New England states are
formed on the model of those of our own country, and
there are few circumstances in the nature of the climate
which tend to produce any material alteration ; it is
among them only that due provision is made for the
education of the people or for relieious instraction.
The productions of the soil — the modes of agriculture
— the arts and occupations to which these give rise —
the alternations of season — and many other things, have

all a resemblance to those of our own country. They
cultivate wheat and the other European grains; theur
garden vegetables, potatoes, turnips, carrots, cabbages,
kc. are the same as ours; they employ the same do-
mestic animals; and they use of course the same agri-
cultural implements, the same grist-mills, fcc. requiring
also the same tradesmen to prepare and work them.

Even in these great divisions which we have pointed
out, there are portions which differ exceedingly from
each other. New Orleans, for instance, which belongs
to the slave states, has a completely different set of
manners from Charleston in Virginia. The former is a
city of immense trade, situated at the mouth of the
great river Mississippi; it contains a mixed population
of blacks of all shades, and of white men from every
nation in Europe. Its streets are crowded and speckled
with people of every colour; its quays with snips of
evenr country; and its wharfs are loaded with bales of
goods from all quarters of the earth; some coming from
Europe or from China, to be carried for three thousand
miles up the inland rivers of America; others sent
down these rivers some months' voyage, to be carried
to the West Indies or the Mediterranean. The air of
the place is unwholesome, and it is a mart where people
hurry to make money before they be overtaken with
disease and death. Such are the influences under which
the manners and character of the people of New Orleans
are formed. Charleston, on the other hand, is the
capital of a wealthy agricultural state; the puisuits of
the people are not decidedly commercial; the town is
the resort of numerous country gentlemen, who pride
themselves rather on the oldness and respectability of
their families, and the extent of their property, than
on the activity of their business habits. The gentry
strive to keep up between themselves and their slaves
an exterior resemblance to the feudal relations of
Europe; coats of arms are fashionable, as are liveries
for servants : there is a general air of elegance and
splendour in .he buildings of the town : some of the
houses 'are real palazzos, surrounded with orange
trees, magnolias, and other trees of an almost tropical
climate.' There is considerable taste for the flne arts
among the higher classes, and among the lower an
absence of all that bustle and variety of language and
dress which mark a great commercial city. It is ob-
vious, therefore, that the manners of these two places
can have very little in common.

If we glance at the northern 3tates, we shall find
a difference of a similar kind existing between New
York and Philadelphia. The former city is the great
thoroughfare of all emigrants and commercial agents
who arrive from Europe; the people passing through
it daily are sometimes estimated at 15,000 or 20,000;
it lies at a central point, having communication by
rivers, canals, and railways with the whole northern
parts of the American continent. Grain, provisions,
lumber, and manufactures are brought from countries
a thousand miles inland, for exportation, or for the use
of places along the coast which have not the same faci-
lity of conveyance. People arriving there are secure
of finding a passage to every other city inland or coast-
ways ; hence the streets and quays are constantly
crowded with travellers and their luggage. The extent
of its commercial transactions gives a facility to those
who wish to engage in any kind of speculation, because
here they can always leara the prices or the demand
for every article of American produce; hence there is
a restlessness, bustle, and continual spirit of change
among its population, or a great part of it, which it
would be vain to seek elsewhere in Europe or in
America. Philadelphia, on the other hand, though also
a place of very extensive commerce, has fewer channels
of communication with the distant inland countries,
and has of course a smaller variety of produce either
raw or manufactured : hence there is less speculation ;
business proceeds with more steadiness, but less appa-
rent bustle; there is in the streets an air of quiet regu-
larity, where every one seems to ^o easily and leisurely
about his business: and the transit of strangers through

808

CHAMBEBffS INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

the place ii bat ineontidenble. The praTailing religion,
which ie Quakeriiiu, hu alto » nianifett influeuce in
producing theee effectt. The influence of ciioum-
itaneee upon the manners of » people it nowhere more
rein»rk»ble than it i» here in the com of the nesroes.
SlareiT ia not permitted in this state ; and the inhabi-
tants do not countenance in all its severity that feeling
of contempt with which black people are regarded in
other parts of the Union; hence the Africans reside
here in freedom and comfort, while they see their coun-
trymen a few miles to the southward poor degraded
slaves; and they are ^nerally, in consequence, a con-
tented, cheerful, and ludustrioua ciiste.

Again, if we look at the western states, we shall find
that though there is a certain uniformity of manners
over the whole, they are here also differently modified,
according to circumstances. Pittsburg, for instance,
with the neighbouring towns. Wheeling and Steuben-
ville, are in the centre of a country which is rich in
various kinds of minerals — coal, iron, lime, &c.; they
are therefore filled with a manufacturing population,
and the pursuits, appearance, and manners of their
inhabitants differ from those of the country around
them, as those of Birmingham may be supposed to do
from other places in the centre of England. The town
of Cincinnati, again, which is situated on the Ohio, as
these places also are, is a great inland depdt for mer-
chandise to be exported or imported. Its inhabitants
are merchants, attendants in counting - houses and
wareroonis, owners of river steamboats, and a popula-
tion attracted br the general trade of the place; while
there is also a large number occupied in the peculiar
business of killing and salting for exportation the im-
mense quantities of live-stook reared in the country.

IIKXICO.

Mexico, occupying that portion of the North Ameri-
can continent which lies betwixt 1G° and iT north
latitude, was conquered bT the Spaniards, under Cor-
tex, in 1521, and continued a colony of Spain till 1821,
when it became an independent republic. From 1821
to 1835 the states were severally independent, but
united into one federal republic, like the United States;
in 1835 they resigned their separate independence, and
became a consolidated or central repuulic. Mexico
oriffinally comprehended Texas, which revolted in 1835,
and is now part of the United States; California, which
declared its independence in 1836, and in 1848 also
joined the United States; and Yucatan, which seceded
so recently as 1841. The area of the country, as thus
diminished, is estimated at about 900,000 square
miles, with a population of from 6,000,000 to 8,000,000
— of whom about one -half are Indian aborigines,
1,250,000 whites, and the remainder mixed races.
The Congress of the Union consists of a president, vice-
president, and of two legislative bodies — the Senate
and the House of Representatives. Capital, Mexico,
with a population ot 140,000.

Oeographically, about one-half of Mexico lies within
the tropics, while the rest belongs to the temperate
zone; but a large proportion of the tropical region en-
joys a mild temperate climate in consequence of its
elevation — bemg from 6000 to 7000 feet above the
sea. In the course of this tract, some of the heights
already adverted to rise to the level of perpetual snow.
' The table-land (see Vol. I. p. 57) gradually declines
towards the temperate zone; but the descent towards
the coasts, especially the east coast, is by a gradual
series of terraces, which produce an extraordinary di-
versity of vegetation, and at the same time oppose
great difBculties to the communicatiop between the
maritime districts and the interior. In the equinoctial
region there are only two seasons, the wet — from June
to September — and tlie dry, which lasts for ei^ht
months; and in this district the different climates nse,
as it were, one above the other from a temnerature of
80° on the coast to G2° in the interior. The coast is
humid, and unhealthy for strangers; but the table-
land is remarkable for its nlubrity, and it is here that

the population ii concentrated. The summit of the
table-land is almost destitute of vegetation, but the
other districts are generally productive. Maize is the
chief object of culture ; besides which, the banana,
manioc, cereal grains, rice, and the potato form the
common food of the people. The narrow insalubrious
plain along the coast called the tierra ealiente, or hot
countrj^, is remarkable for its luxuriant vegetation.
The chief productions of this region are the sugar-cane,
cotton, cocoa, indigo, and tobacco. The southern part
of the country forming the isthmus is celebrated for
the variety and importance of its woods and drugs,
including lognrood, caoutchouc, vanilla, jalap, storax,
and the trees upon which feed the cochineal insect.
Vast herds of horses, mules, and homed cattle also
cover the plain^i of the southern district.

The mines of Mexico, however, constitute the chief
source of its wealth, particularly those of silver, which
are the most productive in the world. Gold is also to
be found, though in lesser quantities; and copper, tin,
iron, lead, and mercury occur in various districts.
Manufactures are generally in a rude state; agriculture
indifferently attended to; and trade and commerce in-
cessantly injured and obstructed by the internal dis-
sensions of the country.' The ' CyclopiBdia of Com-
merce,' from which we extract these remarks, estimates
the exports (chiefly silver, gold, cochineal, woods, drugs,
and dye-stuffs) at from £3,000,000 to £3,500,000 an-
nually, but this must be taken as a mere approxima-
tion. As to the imports, there are no data wnereupon
to form any estimate : they consist chiefly of soft goods,
hardwares, wines, brandy, and spices. Britain sends
annually upwards of £450,000 oi produce and manu-
factures; the United States about £150,000. The chief
ports fur foreign trade are Vera Cruz, Tampico, and
Campeachy, in the Oulf of Mexico; atid San Bias,
Maz;itian, and Acapulco, on the Pacific seaboard.

CENTRAL AMERICA.

The United States of Central America, or, more
briefly, the Central States, inclvde that narrow tract of
the continent which lies between Mexico on the north
and the isthmus of Panama on the south — being about
1000 miles in length, and from 80 to 250 in breadth.
Their area is estimated at 186,000 square miles, and
their population at 2,000,000. The countrv was for-
merly the captain -generalship of Ouatemala; but in
1 823, the people adopted a constitution providing that
the government should be vested in a Federal Congress,
a Senate, and a Pre^^dent. The states constituting
the confederacy arc Ouatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua,
Costa Rica, and the federal district of San Salvi^or.
The country is extremely diversified, well watered, fer-
tile, rich in minerals, favoui-ably situated for com-
merce, has numerous ports on both seaboards, and is
altogether calculated to support a large and thriving
population. The exporls chiefly consist of specie,
indigo, cochineal, brazil wood, and other articles of
tropical produce, amounting to about £1,000,000 an-
nually. The imports are cotton and woollen fabrics,
hardware, and other ' 'y goods from Britain ; silks,
wines, and trinkets, from France and Spain,

YUCATAN.

This state comprises the peninsular district situated
between the Ou.f of Mexico and the Bay of Honduras,
containing an area of about 76,000 square miles, with
a mixed population of 570,000. Till 1841, Yucatan
formed one of the members of the Mexican Confede-
ration, but the {>eople then separated from the Union,
declared themselves independent, and adopted a consti-
tution on the most liberal political, religious, and com-
mei-cial principles. In physical aspect, natural produce,
and industrial pursuit, the country closely resembles
Belize and Mexico already described. Besides some
measure of modem importance, it also lays claim to
considerable antiquarian interest, from the luius of
certain gigantic sculptured structures which are found
at Ozmutal and other placet. (See Vol. I. p. 433).

SOUTH AMERICA.

This great dWiaion of the western hemiiphere is »
peniniula of » triangular form connected with North
America by the narrow Uthmua of Panama. Project-
ing its apex far into the Southern Ocean, its western
shores are washed by the Pacific, its eastern by the
Atlantic, and its base by the Atlantic and Caribbean

Sea. It extends from latitude 12° north to 52° SO'
south, or includine the Archipelago of Terra del Fuego,
to 56° — the small island called Cane Horn, in that
parallel, being generally reckoned the extreme point
of South Amenca. Taken at its widest part — from
Cape St Roque in Brazil, to Cape Blanco in Peru — it

extends frovn longitude 35° to 82° west. Its area is
estimated at 6,800,000 or 7,000,000 square miles, of
which about two-thirds lie within the tropics,

SCPEHPICTAL FEATURES— OKOLOOr.

The jAjf$iaU configuration of the continent is thus
arranged by an American authority: — 1. The low belt
of country skirting the shores of the Piiciflc, fh>m 50 to
No. 70.

150 miles in breadth, and 4000 in length, of which the
two extremities are fertile, and the middle sandy and
arid. 2. The basin of the Orinoco, enclosed by two
branches of the Andes, and consisting of extensive
plains called llanos, either destitute of wood, or merely
dotted with trees, but covered during part of the year
with high herbage. 3. The basin of the Amazon, a vast
plain, embracing a surface of more than 2,000,000

S05

CHAHBEBEPS TSFOVMAHIGS TOR THE PEOPLE.

iquarc miles, posBenBins n rich soil i>n(l humid climate,
alinoat entirely covered witli dense forests, and impene-
trable jungle-marslies by the river sides. 4. The oreat
Talley of the Plata, occupied chiefly by open pTaina
called pamvai, in some parts barren, but in general
covered with weeds, thistles, and tall grasses, on which
feed prodigious herds of wild horses and cattle. 5. The
high country of Brazil, eastward of the Parana and
Uruguay, presenting alternate ridges and valleys,
covered with wood towards the Atlantic, but opening
into grassy steppes in the interior.

Everything in South America is upon a grand scale.
The mountams, the rivers, the forests, the plains —
every feature of nature, in short, is characterised by
magnificence and sublimity, and calculated to excite
alternately admiration and wonder. In one point are
seen mountain-summits above the clouds, white with
snows that never melt, while round their bases grow the
banana and pine-apple. In other places are to be seen
ever-living volcanoes, throwing out flames, smoke,
ashes, and stones. Then, again, we have vast and darlc
forests, which never yet rang to the woodman's axe,
where vegetation prevails in its most gigantic forms.
* In the interior of the new continent, says Humboldt,
we almost accustomed ourselves to regard men as not
being essential to the order of nature. The earth is
loaded with plants, and nothing impedes their develop-
ment. An immense la^er of free mould manifests the
uninterrupted action of organii. po-vers. The crocodiles
and the boas are masters of th«j river; the jaguar, the
peccari, the dante, and the monkeys, traverse the forest
without fear and without danger; there they dwell as
in an ancient inheritance. This aspect of animated
nature, in which man is nothing, has something in it
strange and sad. To this we reconcile ourselves with
difficulty on the ocean, and amid the sands of Africa;
though m these scenes, where nothing recalls to mind
our fields, our woods, and our streams, wo are less
astonished at the vast solitude through which we pass.
Here, in a fertile country, adorned with eternal ver-
dure, we seek in vain the traces of the power of man ;
we seem to be transported into a world altogether dif-
ferent from that which gave us birth.'

The mountains which traverse the continent may
be ranked under two systems — the Cordilleras or
Andes Proper, and the Brazilian Andes, so called from
the Peruvian word anti, signifying copper. The for-
mer, in several parallel chains, extend from the Straits
of Magellan to the Caribbean Sea, in many places
spreading; out over a breadth of several hundred miles,
embracing lofty table -lands, containing mountain
lakes, and everywhere intersected by steep narrow val-
leys, ravines, and lofty waterfalls. At Popayan, the
main chain divides into three ridges, one of which,
shooting oflf to the north-west, passes into the Isthmus
of Panama ; a second separates the valleys of the
Cauca and Magdalena; and a third, passing off to tlie
north-east, separates tlie valley of the Magdalena from
the plains of the Meta. The highest summits of the
system are between XSi" and 17" south, where Sorata
reaches the elevation of 25,350, and Illinmni that of
24,200 feet ; throughout Chili and Peru they range
from 15,000 to 23,000 feet; in Colombia from 12,000
to 18,000 feet; and in Patagonia from 4000 to t!500.
Altogether, the Andes present a most magnificent spec-
tacle to tlie voyager on the Pacific; the snow, which
permanently covers their lofty summits, even under the
burning sun of the equator, contrasting beautifully
with the deep blue of the sky beyond; while occasion-
ally another contrast is exhibited in vast volumes of
Bmoke-nnd fire, emitted from some of the numerous
Tolcan'tes which stud the entire range. The Brazilian
Andes, on the other hand, occupy a great breadth of
country, but seldom exceed an elevation of 6000 feet.

The geology of the continent, so far as can be ascer-
tained by a number of observations at distant and de-
tached points, seems to present every formation — from
the granite and primary schists, to the most recent
kllavium and Tolcanio acoriie. In all the mouutaiuoiu

regions primary rocks prevail, broken through by ■••
condary traps, and capped by recent lavas. In the
lower grounds, secondary rocks, up to the coal-measures
and th« chalk, have been detected; while the pampai
and low plains, as proved by the researches of Mr
Darwin, are of true tertiary and post-tertiary orinn, of
comparatively recent elevation, and replete with the
remains of the megatherium, megolonyz, tozodon, and
other creatures allied to the elephant, rhinoceros, tap v,
llama, &c. but of more gigantic proportions and stranger
configuration. (See Gkoloot, No. 2, Vol. I.)

The miiHtral wealth of South America, though not
perhaps the El-Dorado which our forefathers imagined,
IS unexcelled by any other continent. Gold is found
abundantly in New Grenada, Brazil, Chili, Peru, and
Bolivia; silver in Peru, Bolivia,>Chili, and La Plata;
tin and quicksilver in Peru ; copper, lead, iron, &c. in
various districts; coal in Chili and Panama; salt in
Grenada and La Plata; nitrate of soda also in La Plata;
diamonds in Brazil ; emeralds, amethysts, and other
precious stones in all the higher regions.

HYDROOBAPHY, &C.

The islands, capes, straits, gr^s, &c. connected with
the surrounding seas of the continent present no very
remarkable features. The chief islands are — the allu-
vial flats in the estuary of the Amazon ; the Falkland
and Georgian groups on the south-east, belonging to
Britain ; the desolate and rugged clusters of Terra del
Fuego and Patagonia; the memorable islet of Juan
Fernandez, off the coast of Chili; and the equatorial
group of the Gallapagos in the Pacific. The more pro-
minent capes are St Elena and Blanco on the west.
Cape Horn on the south, and Frio and St Roque on
the east. The principal strait is that of Magellan, about
300 miles long, with a breadth varying from 1^ to 40.

The rivers of South America are only excelled in
magnitude and number by those of the northern por-
tion of the hemisphere. The Amazon, the largest of
rivers, spreads its hundred giant arms over a basin of
more than 2,000,000 square miles in extent. It has a
courae of 4000 miles, and, with its branches, affords a
boat-navigation of not less than 50,000. The La Plata
has a course of 2400, receives the important affluents
Parana, Pilcomayo, and Salado, has a basin of 1,200,000
square miles, the waters of which afford a navigation of
20,000 miles. The Orinoco has a course of 1800 miles,
drains a region of 400,000 square miles, affording, with
its affluents, a navigation of 8000. Indeed many of
the tributaries of these giant rivers are larger than the
largest of European rivers. The other independent
rivers deserving of notice are the Magdalena, Tocantins,
Pamaiba, San Francisco, Uruguay, and Colorado. As
already stated, there are several fresh -water lakes
situated in the high table-land of Bolivia and Peru —
the largest of which js Titicaca,at an altitude of 12,700
feet, about 240 miles in circuit, and covering an area of
5400 square miles. The salt-lakes of La Plata are
also of considerable size, but so shallow, that many of
them are annually dried up, leaving saline incrusta-
tions of common salt, nitrate of soda, and the like,
which are of considerable economical importance.

CLIMATE — BOTANY — ZOOLOOV.

The climate is thus described by Malte Bnin : —
' The three zones of temperature which originate in
America, from the enormous difference of level between
the various regions, cannot by any means be compared
with the zones which result from a difference of lati-
tude. The agreeable, the salutary vicissitudes of *he
seasons, are wanting in those regions that are here dis-
tinguished by the denouiinations of frigid, temperate,
hot, or torrid. In the frigid zone, it is not the inten-
sity, but the continuance of the cold, the absence of
all vivid heat, and the constant humidity of a foggy
atmosphere, that arrest the growth of the great veget-
able productions, and in man perpetuate those diseases
that arise from checked perspiration. The hot zone of
thcM placea doei not experience exceesire he*t, but it

SOVTH AMBUOA.

U ft eontinuMiM of the he*!, together with exhalatieni
from a marthy loil. Mid the miMinat* of an iminenM
maH of vegetable putrcfikction, added to the eifecta of
an extreme humidity, that produce! fcven of a more
or let! deitruotive nature, and spreadi through the
whole animal and vegetable world the agitation of an
exuberant but deranged vital principle. The tempe-
rate zone, by poeieising only a moderate and conetant
warmth, like that of a hothouse, excludes from iti
limits both the animals and vegetables that delight in
tie extremes of heat and cold, and produces its own
peculiar plants, which can neither grow above its limitb
nor descend below them. Its temperature, which does
not brace the constitution of its constant inhabitants,
acts like spring on the diseases of the hot regions, and
like summer on those of the frigid zone. Accordingly,
a mere journey ttoia the summit of the Andes to the
Ifvel of the sea, or vice veniA, proves an important
medical agent, which is sufficient to produce the most
astonishing changes in the human body. But living
constantly in either one or the other of these zones
must enervate both the body and the mind by its mono-
tonous trunquillity. The summer, the spring, and the
winter are here seated on three distinct tlurones, which
they never quit, and are constantly surrounded by the
attributes ot their power.'

Of the vegetable productions more especially charac-
teristic of the continent, we may mention the following
— referring to the West Indies and the southern parts
of North America (No. 6^) for the more general and
common forms : — The forests of Brazil and other tro-
pical parts present the most luxuriant vegetation of
palms, and tree-ferns tangled with rope-vines and other
climbers, and studded with the strangest forms of the
orchidocese. Here also flourish the mahogany and other
timber-trees ; the dye-woods of commerce ; the banana,
anana, cocoa, chocolate ; the chincona, or Peruvian
bark ; the native potato ; the caoutchouc-tree, Brazil-
nut, castor-bean, pine-apple, agave, and cactuses of
innumerable species ; while the rivers are covered with
gorgeous floaterx, among which is the celebrated Vic-
toria Regia of ^ckomburgk. In the high grounds of
Peru and Bolivia, the auracaria, the milk-tree, and
gigantic courbaril, are met with ; in Paraguay, the
matte, or Paraguay tea-tree ; La Plata is noted for its
extensive thistleries ; under the tropics are cultivated
coffee, sugar-cane, cocoa, chocolate, tapioca, indigo, to-
bacco, cotton, and a thousand luscious fruits; while
in Chili, ' the Italy of South America,' are grown the
vine, olive, and ordinary European grains.

The animala deservuig of notice bre the wild horses
and oxen of the pampas (none of which existed till
introduced by Europeans) ; the llama or alpaca of the
Andes;, the tapir, jaguar, and tiger-cat; ant-eater, sloth,
monkeys; the crocodile, guana, boa-constrictor, tree-
frog, and other reptiles; the condor, rhea, albatross, and
innumerable sea-ibwl, whose droppings on the rainless
islets of Peru constitute the gtumo of commerce; the
electric eel, Silurus, and other curious fishes ; the co-
chineal insect, gigantic spiders, centipedes, luminous
flies, and other insect forms unknown to the old world.

POPULATION — aOVERMKEiMS.

The populaiion of South America is small compared
with its extent and fertility, the general estimate being
14,517,000— of which 1 ,100,000 may be whites, 4,000,000
Indians, 3,050,000 blacks, and the remainder mixed
races. The whites are chiefly of Spanish origin, except
in Brazil, which was settled by the Portuguese; in
Guiana, where there are a number of English, French,
and Dutch; and in the city and district of Buenos
Ayres, where there are also a few English and French.
The Indians, once the sole possessors of the continent,
were subdued in the early part of the sixteenth cen-
tury by the. Spaniards and Portuguese; but they still
retain their independence iu Patagonia and on the
upper waters of the Amazon, They belonged chiefly
to four families of the American variety — namely, the
oiviiiaed ToltacMU of Bogota, Pero, wd ChiU; th9 rods

and robust Brasilisni, occnpying th« CMtera saetion ot
the continent from the Orinoco to the La Plata; tht
gigantic and brave Patagonians; and the mistrabl*
Fuegians. The religion of the aborigines was, as it it
for the most part still, idolatrous; the Roman Catkolia
ritual prevails in the states originally settled by the
Spaniards, Portuguese, and French; oad Proteatantiara
in British and Dutch Ouiana.

From their original establishment till the begiiuiiii(
of the present century, all the South Ameriean states
were subject to European nations; but during the
troubles in Spain and Portugal, their colonies threw off
the yoke, and became independent. Since their inde-
pendence, the Spanish provinces, after much contentioB
and division, have formed themselves into the republiei
of Venezuela, New Grenada, Ecuador, Pern, Bolivia)
Chili, La Plata, Paraguay, and Uruguay. Brazil is a
limited mnnarchj/, under a sovereign styled emperor;
and the only colonies are the small ones of British,
Dutch, and French Guiana, to which may be added the
Falkland Islands, now governed and protected as a
British dependency. The following table exhibits the
names, extent, population, and chief towns of the diffe-
rent states, including Patagonia, which is not yet
claimed by any civilised power: —

States.

Venezuela,
New Qrenuda,
Ecuador,
Peru, . - -
Bolivia, - -
Chili, - - -
La Plata, -
Paraguay, - •
UriiRuay,
Brazil, - - -
B. Guiana, -
D. Guiana,
F. Guiana, -
Patoffonia,
Falkland Talcs,

Total, - -

Sq. Miles.

400,000

■123,000

'JOU.OOO

480,000

440,000

ISS.OOO

890,000

80,000

68,000

3,192,000

67,000

36,000

27,000

340,000

135,000

6,g3S,000

Population.

1,000,000

1,600,000

6HO,000

1,300,000

1,400,000

1,180,000

1,700,000

240,000

90,000

4,800,000

100,000

78,000

22,000

110,000

17,000

14,917,000

Chief Towns.

Caracas.

8aiita-Fo-de-Bogata>

Quito.

Lima.

Chiquisaca.

Santiago.

Buenos Aytem,

ABsumption.

Monte Vidoo.

Rio Janeiro.

Georgetown.

Paramaribo.

Cuyenna.

Port Louis.

Such are the existing political divisions, which we
shall now describe in detail, remarking once foe all
that the industrial pursuits of the people ore as yet
chiefly limited to the raising and collecting of raw
produce for shipment to Europe, from which most at ■
the manufactured articles are received m exchange.

VENEZUELA.

On the death of the celebrated Bolivar in Id30^
Venezuela, New Grenada, and Ecuador — the three com-
ponent states of the old Spanish territory of Colombia
— peaceably agreed to become independent of one
another. The limits of these states are nearly the
same as they were when each was a dftparate province
subject to Spain. Their constitutions are based on
the most liberal republican principle!^, and they are
leagued together for mutual support agabst foreign
aggression. The national debt of Colombia was equity
divided amongst the three states in December 1834;
slavery was abolished; and, upon the whole, they are
likely to go on much more peaceably and rationally
apart, than if they were united under one head.

Venezuela extends from the republic of Ecuador to
12° of north latitude, and from 60° to 71° weit longi-
tude. On the north and east it is washed by the At-
lantic Ocean, and has a number of available ports.
The most remarkable feature of the country is the great
river Orinoco. It is also traversed by the Andes; and
the great lakes of Maracaybo and Valencia belong to its
territory. The northern part is mountainous; but in
the south, on the banks of the Orinoco, are tliose im-
mense plains or llanoa, the climate of which is hot, and
in Some parts unhealthy. The year ie completely di-
vided into the rainy and the dry seasons; the former
couunAncing in November, sad eodiug ia April. The

307

CHAMBIBS'S nrVOIMATlON fOR THE PKOPLB.

iwodueiioni »w lugar, coffc*. ta^lgo, cotV/n, and to-
Ucco. The plalni on the Orinoco Aitniih exteniire
PMtarei, which nipport numeront herdi of cattle
Veneinela it pwrtitloned into four depai-tmente, and
fiirther dirided into twelve provincei, which contain
In all a population of nearly 1,000,000. The annual
budget ie iomiwhat under 2,000,000 piaetrei; and ao-
coiding to the diTiiion of the national debt already
noticed, ^61,941,704 fell to the ehan of Venezuela.
The patronage of the church hai been taken fh)m the
kiehUihop of Caracas, and ii now in the handi of the

§i«iident. Tithe* are abolished, the clergy being paid
y the itate. Monaitio inatitutioni and minioni haTe
been done away with, their income and poMeuinns
being applied to the uiea of the National College eatab-
lidied at Maracaybo for public instruction. The prin-
cipal towni of Venezuela are Caracaa, with a population
of probably 40,000; Cumana, a sea-port, with 25,000
Inhabitant* ; Varinas, with 12,000 ; and Maracaybo,
situated on the margin of the great lake of the same
name, which has 25,000 inhabitants. The cultiTation
of the soil and the rearing of cattle are the great ob-
jects of industry in this republic. The chief articles
of export are cocoa, coffee, sugar, tobacco, 'wtton, hides,
dye-woods, sarsapaivlla, Peruvian bark, balsam, indigo,
furs, ke. The imports are for the most part the fabrics
of England and France. It is difficult to state with
certainty what the exports and imports may amount
to respectiTclr, but the former may be estimated at
2,000,000, and the latter at 4,000,000 of piastres. (A
piastre is equal to 48. Sfd. sterling.)

NSW GBENADA.

This republic is bounded on the north by the Carib-
bean Sea and Guatemala ; on the east by Venezuela
andOuiana; on the south by the Amazon and Ecuador;
and on the west by the Pacific Ocean. The great chain
of the Andes traverses this country, and the mountains
are extremely rich in gold and silver; and there are
also mines of platina, copper, lead, and emeralds. The
value of gold and silver produced annually is stated at
£650,000. It is divided into five districts and thirteen
provinces^ the united population of which exceeds
1,600,000. Santa-Fe-de-Bogota is the capital of the
republic; it has a population of about 40,000, Here a
national academy was opened in 1833. In 1835 the
income amounted to 2,3o7,836 dollars, and the expen-
diture to 2,21 1,554 dollars, leaving a balance of 126,282
dollars for payment of the interest of the national debt
— the share falling to New Grenada being above
jCS,0O0,00O. The principal articles of export are cocoa,
indigo, tobacco, conee, hides, and cattle. The imports
are manufactured goods of almost every description.
Wliat the value of these may be it is impossible to say,
for the contraband trade has been carried on in the
country to an almcst unparalleled extent.

ECUADOR.

The territory of the Equator comprehends the an-
cient presidency of Quito. Un the south it borders on
Pern and Drazil, the latter country forming also its
eastern boundary; on the north its limits are New
Grenada; and it is washed by the Pacific Ocean on the
west. This republic is intersected by both ciliains of the
Andes, and consequently presents great diversity of
surface and climate. The high valleys enjoy a tempe-
rate climate, although situat^ immediately under the
equator, a consequence of their great elevation. They
are extremely fruitful, and would be the most charm-
ing places in the world, were it not for the destructive
earthquakes and volcanic eruptions with which they
are not unfrequtmtly visited. There are sixteen active
▼olcanoes in Quito; and some of the most frightful
earthquakes on record have taken place in this coun-
try. The valley in which the city of Quito is situated
is allowed to be the finest table-land in America, and
all travellers speak in glowing terms of its surpass-
ing loveliness. Gold and silver are comprised in the
metallie riches of the mountain territory. The rt>
SOB-

public Is divided into eight provinoei, the popola<
tion of whioh is estimated at 680,000, more than the
half of wh«nn ate Indians, who dwell in the moun-
tains. The capital of the country is Quito, one of the
largest and finest cities in the new world. It stands
at an elevation of 6000 feet above the ocean level, but
being nearly under the equator, has a bland and genial
climate. Quito has two universities, and it has always
enjoyed celebrity for the great number of students by
whieh they are attended. The population is estimated
at 75,000. The great port of this republic, and indeed
of the whole three republics formerly constituting
Colombia, is Guayaquil — the exports and imports ft^m
which respectively average about £250,000 annually.
The imports consist chiefly of British manufactures,
flour, wine, and other necessaries; the exports of cocoa,
timber, and the various other vegetable products of the
country. With regard to the income and expenditure,
little correct information is to be obtained. By the
treaty regarding the national debt, £1,464,795 fell to
the lot of the republic of Ecuador.

PERU.

Ever since the declaration of independence, Peru has
been a scene of political squabbling and change, into
the details of which we need not enter. At present, the
republican state known as Peru is bounded on the
north by Ecuador, on the east by Brazil, on the south
by Bolivia, and on the west by the Pacific Ocean. Its
length is computed at 1500 miles, but its coast-line
cannot be less than 2100, reckoning the bendings of
the shore. According to Humboldt's estimate, Peru
comprises an area of 480,000 square miles. The sur-
face of this vast territory is of the boldest and most
varied description. It is naturally divided into three
regions — Western Peru, situated to tie west of the
Andes ; Eastern Peru, situated to the east of that
mountain chain; and Peru of the Andes, which com-
prises the mountainous districts. Western Peru is a
belt or zone of sand nearly 2000 miles in length,
and having an average breadth of thirty or forty
miles. No rain falls throughout the whole of this
desolate Sahara of the west, and vegetation only
springs up on the banks of the rivers which run from
the Andes to the Pacific. The habitable parts of
Western Peru, therefore, are merely a series of oases
* islanded amid the waste of sand/ like those of
Africa. Yet here are situated the city, of Lima and
several other large towns, the only seaports of the re-
public. Peru of tho Andes, as might be inferred from
its varied elevation above the level of the sea, pre-
sents a great diversity of soil, climate, and vegetation.
Suffice it to jay, that in different parts it exhibits every
species of production, from the dwarf plants of Lapland
which clothe the lofty mountain tops, to the aromatic
species of Sumatra, which shnd theii odours at its base.
This portion of Peru contains the sources of those vast
rivers which traverse the whole continent of South
America, and are the greatest on the face of the globe.
Aut by far the largest, most beautiful, and most valu-
able part of the Peruvian territory lies to the east of
the Andes, commencing on the eastern declivity of the
second chain, and stretching to the confines of Brazil,
In this vast region a thousand sources of wealth lie
buried, for the greater part of it may be said to be yet
unknown, although the riches which it contains are
immense. In fertility, luxuriance, and variety of vege-
tation it rivals Brazil, and the world does not present
us with any higher standard of comparison. Every sort
of production which springs from the ground may be
raised in one part of Peru or another in the amplest
abundance. Its mineral treasures are gold, silver,
platina, tin, copper, lead, quicksilver, precious stones,
salt, alum, saltpetre, coal, sulphur, and others. The
most valuable of these are in great plenty.

Peru carries on considerable trade with Great Bri-
tain, the United States, France, the kindred repub-
lics of South America, and other places. A treaty of
amity, commerce, and navigation with Great Btitaia

BOVTH AHKRIOA.

Vu tlgn«d at Lima on the 5ih of June 18S7« by which
fwrpotual fnMdom of trade wm eitabliihed with the
countries of the PeruTio-Bolivian confederation. The
chief articlei of export are gold and lilver, Perurian
bark, hidei, nitre, lugar (unrefined), cotton, and iheepi'
wool, tin, molassee, pot and pearl aalips, kc. The iiu-
porti into Peru from Great Britain, chiefly of manu-
factured good*, amounted in 184(> to £820,535; and
the export!, chiefly to Britain anu the United Statei,
to more than £1,8U0,0U0. The present revenue of
Peru hai been estimated at ;C1,25U,UOO; the expendi-
ture at a little leii than that sum ; and the national
debt at £6,000,000. But precise information on these
points is not to be obtained. The religion of the re-
public is the Roman Catholic, no other being tolerated.
Slavery has been long abolished here; but the state
of the country in regard to education and morals is
still very low. The total population of Peru is esti-
mated at 1,500,000, consisting of three original castes
— Spaniards, Indians, and Negroes, and all their pos-
sible combinations. Lima, the capital, which was
formerly the grand entrepot for the trade oi all the
west coast of South America, contains a population
of 70,000. All the trade is carried on at Callao,
which, although six miles distant, is the port of
Lima. The next most important place is Cuzco, the
chief town of the interior, and the ancient capital
of the incas. Here arc some magnificent remains of
the former riches and splendour of Peru, particularly
a Temple of the Sun, the wealth of which, when first
spoiled by the Spaniards, was almost incalculable. The
remembrance of the ancient heathen worship is still
preserved by a honorary institution called the ' Order
cf the Sun.' Besides Lima and Cuzco, the next largest
town is the maritime port of Arequipa, which has been
six times destroyed by eruptions from a neij;hbouring
mountain, and yet possessed a population of 40,000
|>revious to the revolution. Earthquakes are frequent
in Peru. The city of Lima has been three times
almost entirely destroyed by these frightful visitations
—namely, in 1G87, 1746, and 1828.

BOLIVIA.

After independence was established in 1825, this
portion of the ancient viceroyalty of Buenos Ayres
received the name which it now bears, conferred in
honour of the liberator. General Bolivar. It is bounded
ou the north by Peru and Brazil, on the east by Brazil,
on the south by the Buenos Ayrean provinces and
Chili, and on the west by the Pacific Ocean and Peru.
It comprehends a space of 480,000 square miles, and
thn population is estimated at 1,400,000, of whom pro-
bably two-thirds are Indians. This republic includes
the departments of Potosi, Chuquisaca, La Paz, Santa
Cruz, Cochabamba, and Oruro. The greater part of
Bolivia is situated at a very high elevation, but towards
the east it stretches down in extensive plains towards
Brazil. The climate, therefore, is extremely various.
On the high parts, snow-storms and hurricanes fre-
quently, prevail, and the plains, from the rigour of the
weather, are nearly destitute of vegetation. The climate
of Potosi, at an 'average elevation of 13,400 feet, is so
changeable, that it frequently exhibits in one day all
the vicissitudes of the four seasons of the year. Thence
descending through the regions of Oruro, at an eleva-
tion of 12,400 feet. La Paz at 12,100, Chuquisaca at
9300, Cochabamba at 8400, down to the plains of Majos
and Chiquitos, all the known degrees of temperature,
from extreme cold to extreme heat, are experienced.
This elevated region is enriched with the most valuable
mines of gold and silver, which, with other precious
metals, form the only articles of Bolivian commerce.
The mountain of lUimani in La Paz, which is supposed
to contain rich veins of gold ore, is 24,200 feet above
the level of the sea. From the great difficulty of work-
ing the mines, and the expense of extracting the ore,
the greater part of the gold of Bolivia is obtamed from
the lavaderos, or gold washings in the beds of rivulets,
where it is found in the shape of grains. Silver, how-

ever, is the great staple mtlallio production of Bolivia t
and the famous mountain of Potoei i* ranked next ia
importance to the mines of Ouanaxuata In Mezioo.

On account of the inconsiderable nature of the riven
flowing ttotu j3ul<via to the Pacific, and the badnese of
the roads, it is impossible this countij can enjoy much
commerce with tu-* T^ucific; but towards the east,
several large streaL umunicate with the great navi-
gable rivers that flo .uto the Atlantic Ocean. The
river Pare, or Beni, which rises near La Paz, and the
Guapey, which rises near Cochabamba, after a long
sweep, unite with the Mamori, and, flowing to the
north-east, mingle with the waters of the Maranon or
Amazon. The Pilcomayo, again, which rises near Potoii
and Chuquisaca, and the )r ermejo, which rises in the
valley of Tareja, flow to the south-east, and mingle
with the Paraguay, the upper part of the mighty Rio
de la Plata. All these rivers are navigable admoet to
their source, and, with steam navigation, would open
up a direct communication between these wealthy
districts and the nations of Europe. The table-land of
Titicaca is the most elevated on the globe, with the
exception of that of Thibet ; but while the latter only
presents pastures and flocks of sheep, the former ex-
hibits towns and populous cities, and is covered with
fine crops of wheat, barley, rye, &c.

CHILI.

Chili is bounded on the north by La Plata, on the
east and south by Patagonia, from which it is sepa-
rated by the Andes, and on the west by the Pacific
Ocean, along the shores of which it stretches from 21*
to 43° of south latitude. It is 1300 miles long, and
from 30 to 120 broad. The ground ascends gradually
from the ocean to the Andes, but is intersected by their
projecting branches, some of which run almost down to
the sea-shore. There is no deficiency of rivers in Chili,
but in general they are small, and running from the
Cordillera to the Pacific, they have necessarily short
courses. These streams are indispensable to the exist-
ence of agriculture, in a country where it rains very
seldom, and to a very limited extent. The fertility of
the soil of Chili has in many respects been much over-
rated. It presents great diversities. In some parts
where irrigation is deficient, it is barren and unpro-
ductive; in others quite the reverse; and amid splendid
woodlands, the finest crops of wheat, barley, rye, and
other species of grain are raised, with scarcely any
trouble to the cultivator beyond scattering the seed.
Cotton, sugar-cane, vines, &c. are also extensively
cultivated. The country is perfectly free of all noxious
reptiles, the climate salubrious, and the weather serene.
The want of navigable rivers is unfavourable to com-
merce; and although there are many rich mines of
gold, silver, and copper in the northern provinces, the
sterility of the country around them prevents many of
them from being worked to advantage.

In 1827, the directorship of Chili was changed into
a presidency, in imitation of the United States. The
established religion is the Roman Catholic, the priest-
hood not being numerous, as was the case prior to
the revolution. The constitution of Chili is that of a
federal republic, consisting of three states — namely,
Coquimbo, Santiago, and Conception, and one district,
Chiloe, each having a provincial assembly, and all four
a common congress, or executive power, which holds
its sittings at Santiago. Chili is divided into eight pro-
vinces, which contain a population of about 1,180,000.
The principal towns are Santiago, with 65,675 inhabi-
tants; Valparaiso, with 26,000; and Conception, with
10,500. In 1840, the outlay of the state was reckoned
at 2,000,000 dollars, the receipts being about 400,000
dollars more, which served to pay the interest of the
English loan, or at all events a part of it; for their
adairs are in great confusion, and their debts are so
mixed up with those of Peru, that it is difiicult to
determine how they stand. By allowing the interest
of their loan to remain for years unpaid, the debt has
accumulated in such a mauler as to have destroyed

OHAMBSBSPS OVOUanOH rOB THB PEOPLE.

nrtinml nrtdit. Tlw parpatakl broili with Peru 1uit«
Materially oontributM to retold the adTaMemmt of
this oountfT, whieh kM oerUinljr varr oonilderaUe n-
•ouNM, ima an antorpriaing aud intolligcDt |M>piUaiioti.
Duriaf the year 1840, there wai exported from Chili
mid, iilrer, aod copper to the amount of 3,A0O,0O0
doUare. The other chief article* of export are hidee,
timber, wheat, flour, fruite, Peruvian barlt, indigo,
tin, and eeal-ikiniL The imports into Chili from Oreat
Britain, ohieflr of manufactured goodi, amounted in
1S46 to £SH9,SW, The native manufacture! of Chili
are iniignificant. Valparaieo ii the ereat port of Chili
into which all foreign coodi enter-— between 400 and
MO tbmbIi there annually diechargiug their cargoM.

LA PLATA.

The united provineet of I^ Plata, or the Argentine
Republic, oompriiei the whole of that raat space ex-
tending from the cordillera of Chili and Peru to Brazil,
with the exception of Paraguay and the Banda Oriental,
which are independent itatet. It conipriies an area of
890,000 iquare miles, and is divided into thirteen
provinces, which to a certain extent goveni themselves
independently of each other, but fur all general or
national purposes are confederated by conventional
agreements. For want of a more defined national
executive, the provincial sovernuient of Buenos Ayres
is temporarily cnarged with carrying on the business of
the union with foreign powers, and with the manage-
ment of all matters appertaining to the republic in
common. The executive power of that government, as
constituted in 1B'21, is vested in the govenior or cap-
tain-general, as he is styled, aided by a council of
minist«rs appointed by himself, responsible to the junta,
or legislative assemblr of the province by wiiich he is
elected. The junta itself concjats of forty-four depu-
ties, one-half of whom are annually renewed by popular
•lection. It was at first attempted to establish a sys-
tem of federalism, by which Buenos Ayres should ex-
ercise immediate control over the other provinces; but
from rarious causes the plan proved quit« abortive.
The national organisation of this state is now limited
to the slender bonds of voluntary confederation, not
only with each other, but with the old metropolis,
Buenos Ayres. The whole territory is an almost uni-
formly level plain of great fertility, watered by the
large rivers La Plata, Parana, Paraguay, and Uruguay,
and several others of smaller dimensions; the Salado,
Pilcomayo, Vemiejo, and Nuevo, being the most impor-
tant. There are likewise a number of lakes, the waters
of which are brackish. There are almost no natural trees
in the province, but there are numerous plantations, or
rather orchards, of peach-trees, which the natives cul-
tivate for firewood — the fruit being applied to feeding
the swine aud poultry. Deer are plentiful in the wilder
parts, but little prized where there is so much fine
beef. The climate is extremely salubrious, and, singu-
larly enough, is almost entirely governed by the winds,
which, generally speaking, are northerly.

One of the distinguishing characteristics of La Plata
are the vast plains called pampas, one portion of which
extends from the banks of the Paraguay westward to
the frontiers of Los Charcas, and northward to the
mountains of Chiquitos — another immense plain, 300
miles in length from east to west, and 1500 miles from
north to south, as far as Patagonia. These plains pre-
sent one uniform expanse of waving grass, uninter-
rupted by either wood or eminence, although in some
places parched and barren, and perfectly uninhabited,
unless by innumerable herds of wild oxen, horses,
ostriches, aud other animals. Over these pampas lies
the only route by land from Buenos Ayres to Chili,
which journey was formerly performed by large com-
panies, as the plains were infested by hordes of roving
Indians, who went there to hunt, catch wild horses, and
plunder. From the alMenoe of all permanent land-
marks, the travellers over these immense plains shaped
their course by the compass, and their caravans were
in reality moT«abIe houies, golid SJid defensible. Of
810

lale yean, regular peit-houiei bar* been eatobliahed
along the whole line of road betwixt Santiago (the
capital of Chili) and Uuenos Ayres — a distance o< nearly
1400 miles — and a regular communication is kept up
betwixt the two repuolica by means of couriers, who
perform their journeys with uncommon speed.

The city of Buenos Ayres is situated on the southern
margin of the river Plata, where the latter is formed
b^ the confluence of the Parana, Uruguay, and Negro
nvers. It is thus, as it were, the key to all the internal
navigation. The city occupies a large extent of ground,
being about 2 miles long, and 1^ broad, all the streets
orouing at right angles. There are a university, several
educational estoblisnmenti, and a number of churches.
The pros])erity of Buepos Ayres and the other provinces
is greatly impeded by the defective navigation of the
rivtir Plata, which is filled with shoals and sandbanks,
and therefore dangerous to large vessels; otherwise the
city of Buenos Ayres would become one of the largest
emporiums of commerce in the world. The Parana
and Uruguay are navigable for vessels of from 200 to
300 tons 15(H) miles into the interior; the former run-
ning through Paraguay into the centre of Bolivia.

The estimated population of the provinces of La
Plata is 1,700,000, inclusive of independent Indians
within the territory kid claim to by the republic. Of
this number of inhabitants, from 180,000 to 200,000
were reckoned as belonging to Buenos Avres. Into de-
tails of trade we cannot enter; indeed it is impossible
to obtain correct infonnation regaruing the interior
provinces, their commerce being nK'!;tly of a domestic
or internal nature. Buenos Ayree is of course the
great centre of foreign trade. Ir. jtMS, tbe Imports
from Great Britain amounted tr i.','?9'J,279; the total
imports into the republic being valued at 7,000,000
dollars. The exports during tho 8am«! jvear amounted
to 6,100,000 dollars, consisting chiefly of ox hides, gold
and silver, sheeps' wool, jerked beef, horse hair, tallow,
sheep-skins, and other products of the country. Of
late years, the imports into Buenos Ayres have de-
creased, in consequence af iiitenial feuds and revolu-
tions., whilst those of Moute Video have increased.

PAKAOCAY.

The republic of '^^rngnay, formerly one of the united
provinces of the iiceroyolty of Buenos Ayres, is situ-
ated bet'..'een the rivers Parana (on the east and south)
and Paraguay (on the west). It is divided by a desert
tract from Brazil on the north. It comprises an area
of about 80,000 square miles, with a population of
about 240,000, seven-tenths of which are Creoles. The
climate is mild and healthy, although moist, being low
and level. All sorts of tropical fruits, com, vines,
sugar-cane, rice, ifiaize, tobacco, indigo, and a number
of valuable medicinal plants, abound in profusion.
There is a particular plant peculiar to Paraguay called
yerba, and when decocted, mattt, which greatly resem-
bles the tea of China, and is by many preferred to tbe
latter. It is universally used in South America. Of
late years it bos been cultivated in Brazil with great
success. Immense herds of cattle roam over tbe plains,
whose hides and tallow form an article of commerce.

From shortly after tho declaration of independence
in 1811, until 1838, this beautiful and prolific region
was governed in a despotic manner by Doctor Francia,
a man of considerable talent, but it is believed partly
crazed in mind, who had the address, like Cromwell, to
dissolve the temporary goveninient established by the
revolutionary party, and to appoint himself sole and
perpetual dictator of the state. All things were now
manage<l by him; he planned roads, bridges, and other
public works, organized the army, and interfered in the
most minute arrangements. His rule was supported
by excessive cruelty, and he lived in constant fear of
assassination. This extraordinary despot died, in his
eighty-second year, in 1838; but what has been the
political condition of the state since we have not heard.
Some writers are disposed to think that upon the whole
Francia'a dictatorship waa beneficial for the country,

•OUTH AlOnifM.

k MtoUiiliad
•ntiago (the
jtoe ot nearly
1 if kept up
couriwi, who
Bed.

the louthern
ler it formed
y, and Negro
i the internal
nt of ground,
ill the itreete
inity, wveral
' of churchei.
her provinces

rtioii of the
iandbanki,
Dtherwiae the
f the largest
The Parana
from 200 to
• former run-
nolivia.
nncet of La
dent Indians
republio. Of

to 200,000
es. Into de-
is impossible

the interior
if a domestic
f course the

the Imports
79; the total
at 7,000,000
)ar amounted
IX hides, eold

1 hair, tallow,
country. Of
res hare de-

and rerolu-
icreased.

of the united

irres, is situ-

it and south)

d by a deserc

irises an area

lopulation of

reoles. The

St, being low

com. Tines,

nd a number

n profusion.

Bguay called

reatly resem-

iferred to the

America. Of

il with great

!r the plains,

commerce.

ndependence

rolific region

ctor Francia,

lieved partly

Cromwell, to

shed by the

lelf sole and

were now

es, and other

rfered in the

18 supported

stant fear of

died, in his

las been the

re not heard.

on the whole

the country,

M 1m euriad on Ttrioni obj«oti of ntUMjr.Mkd proeund
iMfMet and tnui^uUUty for his people.

VKUOOAr, OR BANDA ORIBNTAL.

Thif oomparatiTely small state, which oceaaion«d a
long and bloody contention between the united pro-
Tinoee and the Brasilian government, is situated be-
tweea tiie river Uruguay and the Atlantic from south
to noKh, and between the rivers Plata and Parana
from east to west, occupying an area of about 60,000
iquaro miles. From its position, between the Spanish
and Portuguese settlements, it soon became an object
of contention ; but it would be a vraste of time to fellow
the course of the struggle. Suffice it to say, that after
much blood bad been shed on both sides, in a war of
more than half a century's duration, during which the
disputed territory, by being the common battle-field,
was devastated by both, the contending parties at last
drew stakes, and it was erected into an independent
state in 1(129. It is equally distinguished for fertility
of soil, salubrity of climate, natural beauty, and geo-
graphical position. It abounds in excellent pastures,
which are fertilised by an unusually large number of
streams, in which respect it is greatly superior to the
rival provinces on the opposite banks of the Rio de la
Plata. The city of Monte Video, t^e capital of the
republic, is situated on the northern bank of the great
river just named, near its mouth, 120 miles north-east
from Buenos Ayres. The importance of this city has
greatlv increased since the erection of the country into
an independent republic. A lowering of the duties on
import trade, whilst those of Buenos Ayres remained
high, brought foreign goods to it, so that it has in some
measure supplanted its rival, and become an entrep6t
for the supply of the neighbouring provinces. This is
the cause of the diminution in the amount of imports
into Buenos Ayres, to which allusion has already been
made. In 1836, the importations of foreign goods into
Monte Video amounted to £659,530, whilst the ex-
ports were nearly equal in value, and now constitute
an important proportion of the returns in the general
account of the trade with the river Plata. The popu-
lation of the Banda Oriental is estimated at from
90,000 to 100,000, and in rapidly increasing.

BIUZII,.

Brazil is by far the largest and most important state
in the New World. The climate is more generally
salubrious and agreeable than that of any other tropical
country, and every part of the soil is rich, fertile, and
exuberant of vegetation. It is bounded on the land
ride by Banda Oriental, Paraguay, Bolivia, Peru, Co-
lombia, and Guiana; and on the east and north-east
by the Atlantic. The territory within these limits has
been estimated at 3,192,000 square miles; the popu-
lation, inclusive of Indians, at 4,800,000.

Brazil was governed in much the same way as the
Spanish colonies until the year 1808, when King Joam
V I. fled from Portugal to escape the power of Bona-
parte, who had taken a fancy to his dominions. He
was warmly received by the Brazilians; nor was their
Joy misplaced, for he immediately set about freeing the
territory from all the marks of colonial dependence.
The press was made free, newspapers established, and
the ports thrown open to traders of every nation, and
everything done to promote education and industry.
In 1815 also Brazil was created an independent state,
although annexed to the crown of Portugal. In 1817,
some democratic insurrections broke out in Pemam-
buco ; and although suppressed, discontent still con-
tinued, until, in 1821, it was announced that the Portu-
gu.;se constitution was to be conferred on Brazil. Before
this, however. King Joam had sailed for Portugal, pro-
mising at his departure increased pay to all his officers
and soldiers. But when he was gone, it was found he
had carried off every farthing that was in the treasur)',
having also raised immense sums by means of treasury
bills. The public indignation at this discovery, to-
g«ther with the Buipidon that he intended again to

on-

leduoe iiraiU t« ,Mf9>mHtlm^ vietroyalty, occa-
■ioned a genTA' JS for til M '• Pedro, who had
been left iu< tu bMoma A ' ui uf i\u jo'cru-

nent as an in. .'lent state. )>>■ >•« rt- >> (M«io-
plied with. In u,si it* was nr< tiinsni em , mA

in 1H2A his title and the inaepF-ii'i"<i<-r
acknowledged by his father. In Iti. i , "
popular and despotic measures, Pecir
to alidioat* in favour of his son Pedro i I »!

Dratil enioys the name, but unfortuiu. lUc

peace and security of a constitutional govii .

The form of ^overnmeut is that of a cuustu.uii»nal
and representative monarchy, the imperial crown being
hereditary in the male line. Four political powers are
recognised — tbe legislative, which resides in a general
assembly, consisting of a senate appointed by the em-
peror, and a chamber of deputies clouted by the people;
the executive, the managing, and the judicial, are Um
other three powers. In 1U35, it was decreed that a
legislative provincial assembly should be introduced
into each of the nineteen provinces, the duration of
each session to be two years. The local powers of
these bodies aie verv considerable, approaching to
those of the individual states of the North American
Union. The religion of the state is the Roman Catholic,
but the exercise of all others is permitted, though none
are allowed to build churches or perform divine service
in public. There are a great number of monasteriei
and nunneries in Brazil, and the clergy is numerous.
Much has been done for public instruction in Brazil, a
national system of education having been introduced.
The press is free, but as yet there are few printing
establishments in the country. Nothing is wanting but
intental tranquillity to enable the Brazilians to make
advances in literature and the useful arts.

To describe minutely the physical characteristics of
so vast a region as that of Brazil, would carry us far
beyond our limits. Qenerally speaking, there is not
on the globe a finer country, one blessed with a more
genial climate, or a more fertile soil; more happily
diversified with wood and water, or with abundance of
navigable rivers; or more famed for its produce of
gold and diamonds. Nearly the whole of the most
highly-valued productions of the earth are raised within
its territory. The land rises by gentle gradations from
the shore to the interior, to the height of from 3000 to
6000 feet above the level of the sea. At this elevation
within the tropics the climate is temperate, and Euro-
pean fruits and grains arc raised in abundance. The
intervening valleys have a warmer temperature, and
consequently are extremely favourable to the growth
of sugar, coffee, cotton, and every description of tropical
produce. Magnificent forests overspread a great part
of the interior. The trees are closely interwoven with
brushwood and shrubs, and covered with creeping
plants adorned with the most resplendent flowers,
thus imparting a peculiar and rich appearance to the
scenery. These forests abound in valuable woods,
adapted for every purpose to which art can apply them.
The climate in the neighbourhood of the Amazon, and
in the northern parts, is hot, but ameliorated by the
humidity of the atmosphere ; in the southern regions it
is temperate, and in general healthy.

Brazil is rich in mineral treasures, especially in gold
and diamonds. Gold is found in the beds of most of
the rivers that rise in the interior, and almost all the
towns were founded by men searching for gold. Next
to gold, diamonds form the staple of Brazilian mineral
riches. They were first accidentally discovered about
1730. There are several large mines of nitre and iron,
but no silver is found. Salt is extremely abundant, but
being a government monopoly, it is always kept very
high in price ; a most absurd regulation in a country
where it is so much required, not only for the use of
man, but of cattle, poultry, sheep, and other animals,
and for salting meat. The commerce of Brazil is very
extensive, especially with Great Britain. Though la-
bouring under the curse of lieing a slave-holding state
— a condition of things incompatible with sound insti-

311

CHAUBUura nrromaTioir fob the pkopul

tutlont— Brull It jMtly bnprotinK In ciNumitMMML
Mid txhibiU my latUfMior: ■jrmptonit cf oorom«rei»l
proq)«rilr. All that it r«ii ir««, *:tsiiorlv, !• libwty
to triule on tquitftblo tamif with Urcftt llrlUln, wk*ra
ita TMt product of ooffi* and niiM would find •
n»rk«t. At prtMnt It rattoi OO.IHH) toni of ooffM
nnnually, and thif could b« grtmilj InorMMd. Urull
it welt known m Mnf the batt South Am«rlc*n
cuitoiner of lirit*in, pftrtioulurljr for cotton goodf. At
pnttnt it! linporti from the United Kingdom amount
to about X4,04)0,000 annually, and botwoen AO,UOO and
60,000 toni of Briliih ihipplnc art enxaged in the
trade, chiefly in connection with liiverpool. The im-

rorti into llrazll fruni the United States during the year
8SA amounted to 3,(iOU,()A(i doUan, being chiefly flour ;
from France, to the extent of ^£907,330. The whole
import! into Urazil may b« eetimated at i;6,A0O,0OO.
The eiporti, coniiiting of augar, cotton, hidti, coffee,
tobacco, rice, leather, drugi, dye-woodi, India-rubber,
gold, diamondu, are eatinmted at £A,A0O,O(H), of which
about i;i30O,0<)O couiei to Urcnt Britain. According to
^e report of the finance miniitLr, the income fur the year
1838 was 1 3,ti()»,'2H0 dollar*, the expenditure 13,(i2'J,000
dollari, leaving a balance of 41,2H!) dollars. There is
a yearly increasing debt of above ^(>,*iUU,UOO.

The capital city of Uraxil is Rio Janeiro, of which
the population is estimated at nearly 200,000, The
harbour is one of the finest in the world. The entrance
to it it a narrow opening in a ledge of rooks, about
half a mile wide, at the mouth of which is an island,
upon which a strong fort is erected. After passing
through this strait, the mariner finds himself in a mag-
nificent gulf 100 miles in com]>ass, encircled by lofty
mountains, and enclosing a number of islands. Vessels
of all dimensions may enter and anchor in perfect
■ecurity. The city is on the north-east sido of the
bay ; the streets in one part are narrow, and the whole
appearance of the lower city is somewhat mean. It
it, however, now greatly improved, by the erection of
public and private buildings. The greatest portion of
the mercantile inhabitants are Portuguese. One of the
inott ttriking features of Rio it the immense number
of chnrches with which it is provided, Bahio, or St
Salvador, tho ancient capital, is situated on the east
tide of the magnificent bay of All-Saints, which ex-
tends a whole degree from north to west, branching
inland in every direction, and capable of holding all
the shipping in the world. The population is esti-
mated at 120,000, so that it it the second city in
Brazil. From its central situation, the commerce is
very qstensive. Pcmambuco is the next city in size
and importance, and is increasing so rapidly, that new
houses are built wherever space can be found, while
the commerce is increasing in proportion. It is per-
haps the handsomest city in Brazil, with broad paved
■treeti, fine houses, an Episcopal palace, handsome
churches, convents, hospitals, theatre, &c. The popu-
lation is estimated at upwards of 02,000.

Ol'IANA.

This territory it divided into British, Dutch, and
French Uuiana. It is situated north of Brazil, )>etween
Cape North and Essequibo, inclusive. The portion
claimed by Britain extends from the river C'oventyn,
in 5b'° 58', to Punta Barima, at the southern outlet of
the Orinoco, in CO" 6' west longitude, in breadth, and
from the Acaria mountains to the sea, in length. It
formerly consisted of the settlements of Demerara,
Essequibo, and Berbice, but these are now united under
one govemi.ieiit, and include 67,000 square miles.
The whole coast is flat, and on approaching from the
sea, nothing is visible but the tops of the trees, which
teem to be growing out of the water. This alluvial fiat
extends from ten to forty miles inland, and it termi-
nated by a range of sand-hills, which approach within
two miles of the tea, on the south side of the Esse-
quibo. Parallel with these tand-hills run several
detached groups of hillocks, of moderate elevation.
Farther into the interior the country is much direni-
312

fled with rooontMns and vallsys, Iinn.«i;te tavi^<ukat,
or plains, oooupying 14,400 tquoN miles, ^itend be-
tween Ihn rivert Uemerora and t'oventyn, appronclnn^
the tea ol the river Berbice. Those plains appear to
have been an inland lake, and ar« tondy, growing only
a few stunted trees; but they ore very rlcn in poatur-
«ge. Uuiana hot three great rivers— the Ettequil>o,
the Berbioe, and the Uemerora. The l-^sseaulbo, the
largest of these rivers, is about (i20 miles !u length,
but, from the numb«r of raniils, it is only navigable for
M miles from its mouth. During its course, it receives
the waters of several large tributaries, which legate on
immense tract of country. To the eastward, and run-
ning parallel to the Essequibo, is the Dcraemra, which
it navigable fur vetsels of small siie about 85 miles
above Oeorgetown. The Berbioe, although smaller
than the Essequibo, is of more importance, from its
course being free fur vessels drawing twelve fett water
about 10.5 miles, and fur vessels of seven feet draught
ISA miles into the interior of the country. The river
Coventyn forms the boundary between the British and
Dutch possettiont, and it navigable lAO miles for vet-
sels drawing seven feet of water. There are also several
smaller ttreanii in the intervale between these great
rivers, which, althuugh of no importance fur navigation,
are extremely useful in the irrigation of the country.
This fertility is kept up during toe dry season by heavy
falls of dew; and tnis takes place not only on the banks
of the rivert, but also in the open plains. The soU is
very fertile, in some parts sandy, but growing abund*
ance of grass, and in others it is a strung retentive
loam, well adapted for the cultivation of coffee, sugar,
rice, and other kinds of tropical produce. The coast it
covered with mangrove and curina bushes; and towards
the interior thick forests occur, which yield many valu-
able kinds of timber, drugs, and dve-stufts.

British Uuiana is divided into three countiei, Deme-
rara, Essequibo, and Berbice. The two former have
been united, and are divided into eleven parishes, and
the latter into six. These colonies were first settled by
the Dutch, captured by the British in 17U6, given up
to the Batavian Republic in 1 803, retaken in 1803,
and finally ceded to this country at the general pence
of 1814. The settlements are all situated upon the
banks of the rivers from which they receive their name,
extending along both sides, and generally as far inland
at the rivert are navigable. fStch plantation hot a
wharf or ianding-iiloce of itt own, and canals are cut
into the land fur the admission of boats, and the drain-
ing of the surrounding country. For fiO miles along
the sea-coast of the county of Berbice, a huge embank-
ment has been raised against the sea, on which is a
carriage-road 60 feet broad. A comparatively small
portion of tiuiana it yet cultivated, and an iunnense
field for colonial industry still lies open. The extent
of cultivated land, however, is gradually increasing as
the advantages of the colony are becoming known.
The staple productt contiit of sugM, rum, cofieo, and
cotton; and it is thought, from the fertility of the soil,
and the constant summer which prevails, that many-
other valuable plants might be cultivated. The climate
is very genial and regular throughout tho year, the
maximum heat being 90", the minimum 74°, and the
mean temperature about 82'. Two wet and two dry
seasons constitute the changes of the year; the great
wet season, as it is called, commencing in the middle,
and continuing till the end of August, and the great
dry season from the end of August till the end of
November. The short wet season occurs from Decem-
ber to the middle of February, and the short dry season
from February to April. Tho foregoing applies to the
coast regions, the interior being marked by only two
great changes during tho year.

The population of Uuiana may be divided into Euro-
peans, Africans, people of colour from other parts, and
native Americans. The native Americans have dwindled
down to a very small number, who lead a wandering
life on the frontiers and savannas of the colony. The
gOTemmeut is retted in a governor and court of policy,

mwi IKDU liLAyng.

coiiiittlng of tk« gorarner, oltlef*Juttie«, »tt4wiiey>|t«n«-
rftl, collector of riiitnroi, goT*niiii«nt Mtintary, ftnd aii
tuual nuiiilx-i (I |ii miiii el«ct«<l fmin »moiigit the
oolonitti. Korincrly, nil fr«« m»U iiihabitantt were
Ibkbla to icrre i 'i a military cupaulty, but ■inca th« Abo-
lition of tUTsi^ 'he nuUiu* bat Ixsun dlubMiJeU. Th*
local RdvarwflMiit baf* mi»ti! th« ({raateit etrorta to pro-
mote eduimtiott in tk« tvluiiy, and iiiaiiv ivhooU and
churohei have ImirVi erected at cuntlderable vxpenM.

The capital of British Ouiaiia ii UeorKetowii, litu-
•ied on the weitern bank of the rirer Demerara, which
kae a population nf from 20,U0U to 'JA.UOU. The itrpeta
are genorulty wide, trareried by uanaU; the houie*
built of wood, two itoToyg high, and separated from
•aoh other li' garden! and dltchei. It ii built iu two
rowi, about I mile long, on the river lido, and con-
tain* iererul handiome buildinfta. New Aniiterdani,
the chief town in the county of liorbicc, extendi about
a mile and a-half ulong the w««leni bank of the river
fierbice, The houiei have all gardeni behind, and aro
■eparated from each othur by canals or trenches, and
the town is described as presenting altogether a very
pleasing aspect on entering the river. The population
of this town, accordii.g to the laiit -published census,
amounted to between 3U00 and 3JSU().

The exports f^om Guiana, as is the case with »11 the
other West India colonies, have decreased of late years;
but from the encouragemunt which is now given to
•migrants, it is hoped that this will in the course of
time be remedied. The exports, consisting chielly of
sugar, molasses, rum, coffee, and cotton, amount from
£1,500,000 to £2,000,0UU; and the imports, chiefly of
British manufactures, to little short of i) 1 ,000,000.

The settlement of Cayenne, or Frmok Ouiana, was
fimt formed about 1630 by a colony from Caen in
Normandy, after which it is called. It did not succeed.
From that period down to the |)eaco of 1814, it passed
alternately into the hands of the Dutch, Uritish, Por-
tuguese, and French, but was then finally restored to
France. There are two settlements, one on the main-
land, another on the island of the samo name, sepa-
rated from the former by the river Cayenne, making in
all an area of about '27,000 square miles. The mainland
ii low and marshy, and the Indiana in the surrounding
territories are so troublesome, that the settlors attend
to little else than the rearing of cattle. It is on the
island that all the articles of merchandise are raised,
consisting of cofTeo, sugar, cotton, cocoa, indigo, Cayenne
pepper, ke. The island is lit miles long, and 10 broad.
At the north point is the town of Cayenne, the capital

of the colony, with a fin* convenient harbour, and oou-
taining about '~'00 houses. Tha population of tha whole
colony <l(i«s not exceed '-''2,000 ; and altogether it i( a
settlement ot very little iiuportanca.

IhUek iruimta, until IHI4, coroprehanded Surinam,
Derbive, IKrmernra, and Kssaquibo ; tha thr«i' last ware
than transferred to Britain. The remaining proviaoa
of Surinam is about '210 niilea long along th" coast,
and ha* an area of about 36,000 aquara miles. Tha
soil is low, rich, and fertile, and produces sugar, i-um,
cotton, and cott'ee, for exportation. In 1H42 the |)opu-
lation was estimated at 7II,00U, four-fifths ot whom are
slaves, free Indians, and Maroons. Paramaribo is tha
capital, situated on the river of that name, with a
population of from 1H,000 to '20,000.

I'ATAUO.Nl.t.

This region is of great extent, occupying the whole
southern portion of iiiouth America, beyonil about the
40th parallel of south latitude. Its length, including
Caue Horn, is above 1000 miles ; but it* breadth at the
widest is not much more than one-third of that space,
and it gradually narrows to a point at the southern
extremity, where the land bends in a curve to the
south. The interior of this large territory is but little
known ; but the more that is ascertained of it, the lass
does it appear likely ever to become the seat of a thriv-
ing people. Terra del Fue^o is divided into thraa
islands by two channels, and is altogether a dreary re-
gion, inhabited by a few miserable saroguD.

FALKLA.NO I8LANUH.

This insular group, situated in the Southern Ocaan,
about 300 miles north-east of Cape Horn, consists of
two large islands, east and west Fhlkland, containing
upwards of 130,000 square miles, and of ninety islets
I of various dimension*. The group was discovered by
Uavis in 1.592 ; and small settlements mode at diffe-
rent times on the larger islands by the English, French,
and Spaniards were successively abandoned, till in 1838
(when the southern whale -Ashery, and the trade to
America, rendered the iMlands of more importance)
they were formally taken possession of by liritain.
They now constitute a Uritish colony or dependency,
under the direction of a governor and council. The
only settlement is Port Louis, on the eastern island ;
the principal production of the colony is cattle ; but
the surrounding seas abound with excellent fish, seals,
and sea elephants. In 1842, the value of tho export*
exceeded L.1000, and the imports L.400.

WEST INDIA ISLANDS.

This important archipelago extends from lat. 10° to
28° north, and from long. 59° 30' to 05° west, studding
that large indentation of the Atlantic Ocean which lies
between North and South America. As a whole, the
island* are separated f vom the former continent by the
Strait* of Florida, and from the latter by the Gulf of
Paria; thus Laving the Caribbean Sea, the Day of Hon-
duras, and the UuTf of Mexico, on the south and west,
and the Atlantic on the north and east. They are com-
monly divided into the following groups : — The Ba/ta-
mas, consisting of 14 principal islands, and upwards of
600 rocky islets or cays; the Greater Antilles, compris-
ing Cuba, Haiti, Jamaica, and Puerto Rico, with their
subordinate islets; the Caribbean, including the Virgin,
Leeward, and Windward clusters; and the Leaser An-
iillea, lying along the coast of South America. The
aggregate area is estimated at 93,000 square miles.

SUPERFICIAL FEATURES — PRODUCTS.

The general aspect of the West Indian archipelago is
mountainous; and following their curving sweep from
the peuiiiiuU of Florida aouthwards, they appear to

belong to one great axis of elevation. Many of the
islands exhibit manifest proofs of volcanic origin; and
they are all less or more subject to violent shocks of
earthquakes. In the larger islands the craters seem to
be extinct; but in St Lucia, Martinique, Guadaloupe,
Montserrat, &c. several of them have thrown out smoke
and ashes since the middle of the last century. As
might be expected, various degrees of elevation are ex-
hibited in the great chain : thus in Cuba the highest
point is 9000 feet; in Haiti 8500; Jamaica 7150; Do-
minica 6000; Guadaloupe 5500; and in St Lucia 4000.
Numerous streams descend from these mountainn; and
though they do not reach the size of rivers, yet serve to
water the fine plains and valleys, whose fertility is
mainly owing to their influence. Several of tho Carib-
bean islands, however, are of secondary formation, and
not much elevated above the sea; while the Bahamas
are generally low, with a scanty soil, and interspersed
with numerous coral-reefs and shoals. The mineral
products are copper in Cuba, sulphur in Guadaloupe,
and pitch from Barbadoes and Trinidad.
Lying almost wholly within the tropics, these island*

313

OHAMBEBS'S ISFOBllAtlOir FOB THB PEOPLS.

know no winter; the jeu, m nndar limilar kiitudei,
being diTided int* «m< and dry MAMni. NerertlielaM,
meteorologiiti distinguidi four periods — q>ring, with
gentle ihowera in April »od Maj; the hot and lultrjr
eummer from May till October; the autumnal rains,
which then begin and continue till December; and
winter, from December till April, ooniisting of serene
and cool weather. During the rains, the climate is
in several of che islands decidedly unhealthy; but
throughout the dry season, nothing can exceed the
softness of the air, the brilliancy of the heavens, and
the luxuriance and splendour of the vegetation. Be-
tween August and the end of October most of the
islands are subject to furious hurricanes; these, how-
ever, are luckily not very frequent, and are unknown
e\copt during this short period.
' The rich and varied productions of the West Indies

f'lre them an important place in the commercial world.
their valuable native plants, art and industry have
added others not less valuable. The sugar-cane, yield-
ing its threefold tribute of sugar, molasses, and mm ;
the coffee-plant, pimento or all-spice; the plantain and
the banana; the pine-apple, anana, yam, sweet potato,
maize, cassava, manioc; with cacao, tobacco, and cot-
ton; various dye-woods and stuffs, as fustic, logwood,
indigo ; medicinal plants, as liquorice, arrowroot, ginger,
jalap, ipecacuanha; building and cabinet timber, as
■lahogany, lignumvitse, and cedar; to which list must
be added the bread-fruit, cocoa, mango, papaw, guara,
orange, leraon, tamarind, fig, and ether tropical fruits.
The cattle are generally of diminutive isize; only a few
of the islands contain sheep and goats ; few horses,
asses, or mules are reared, and consequently great
numbers of these are imported from the continent.
Hoes are more abundant th&a other domestic ani-
mals. There are few wild animals, but wild swine,
tajaasoes, monkeys, rats, and some smaller animals.
The manati is found in Trinidad and Tobago; the cay-
man, turtle, and other reptiles are common ; and
fisk are everywhere abundant. Land and sea-crabs
■!« also common ; and amongst the more remarkable
insects are mosquitoes, cockroaches, scorpions, auts, and
the valuable cochineal insect.'

tion of the principal isUnds, witb the goTenting {wwen
to which they belong : —

lalonde.

POPULATION — OOVEBNMENTS.

The native tribes have long since become extinct,
except perhaps a few families in Trinidad. At the
time of their discovery by Columbus in 1592, the
■onthem islands were inhabited by the fierce and war-
like Caribs, and the northern by the Arrowauks, a more
mild and gentle race. The latter have been described
as indolent and sensual <" their habits, but luild and
forgiving in dispositior . ^cctiuuate to their wives, and
seem to hare been o.' a domestic turn of character.
They were particularly "ond of dancing and various
other peaceable amuseme its and games. Their form
of goveniraent was monarchical, the kings being called
eariqnet, and their power hereditary. Subordinate
dtiefii or princes governed each district, who were
tributary to the king. They had likewise an estab-
lished priesthood; but their religion consisted of the
usual savage superstition. They, however, believed in
the existence of a Deity, and a future state of re-
wards and punishments. At present, the great mass of
the population is of African origin — the remainder
consisting of Spaniards, French, English, Dutch, and
Danes — who have carried witli them their religion,
laws, maund.:, and industry. Reckoning the gross
population, w.Hich is said to be decreasing, at 3,000,000,
about l,900,0v)0 mayb" hed as Negroes,* 630,000
whites, 470,000 Creoles - L other admixtures. The
following table exhibits <.uj names, areas, and popula-

* Previous to IDM, the British Wert India islands were all '
oultivatod by Negro aUvos; but in that year a bill passed the
Houses of I^liament by whioh slavery was abolished, the
planters rocuirlng £30,000,000 sterling as the price of Negro
emancipadon. This bill declared, that after the 1st of August
KM, all slaves should bcoomo appronticod labourers; the ap-
prentioeships to ceuse in Aui^uat IMV.

BrftwA—
Anogada, - - -
Anguilla, - - -
Antigus, • ■ - .
Bahamas, • - -
Barbadooe, - • -
Barbuda, - • -

Crab,

Cayman, ■ - •
Cidebra, • - - .
Dominica, - - -
Grenada, &c, - -
Jamaica, - - -
Montsenat, - - ■
Nevig, ....
Dontan, • ■ ■ .
StKltfs, - - -
Bt Lucia, . . - .
8t Vincent, - -
Tobago, . - . .
Tortola, - - -
Trinidad, - - ■
Vlrgiu Qordo, -

SpanUh—

Cuba,

Puerto Rico, - -

French —
Dteirnde, - - -
Ouadaloupe, - -
Mariogalante, - -
Les Saintes, - -
Martinique, - -
St Martin, N. Port,

Dutch—
Curayoa, . - - .
BtEustatins, • •

Saba,

St Martin, 8. Part,

DanuA—
Bantu Cniz, - -
BtJohn, - - -
Bt Thomas, • - -

SivecUth—
Bt Bartholomew,

JndependetU—
Haiti,

Sq. MUoB,

108

SMO

lot
n

878

ISO

6,8fiO

S79
121
ISO

20
2,000

48,380
8,862

W]
BM{

mi
s)

290
IS

375
10
SO
10

80
70
SO

29,400

Pop.

8,000

80,412

18.880

122,000

400

18,880

27,000

ttS,844

7,660

8,000

26,272
18,1S0
«7,H0
14,000
6,960
60,000

704,487
<e.086

127^640

U6,030

8,600

12,000

18,800

4,S0O

3,300

84,000
8,000
7,000

18,000

600,000

Chief Towns.

et Johns.

Nassau.

Bridgetown.

Cfaarlottetown.
Bt George.
SponiBhtonii.
Plymouth.
Charlestown.

Basseterre.
Castries.
Kingstown.
Scarboront^

PortofSpahi.

Havana.
Bod Juan.

PobitiiPJltie.
FertBoyaL

WiHiamstadt.
4t EustatiuB.

Christianstodt.
Bt Thomas.
Gustavia.
Port-au-Prinee.

BRITISH P08SBSSI0NS.

The forms of government established in the British
colonies in the West ludiee may be divided into two
clasees : those having a governor, council, and repre-
sentative assembly; and those having only a governor
and legislative council. The first includes Jamaica,
Barbadoes, Antieua, Tobago, Grenada, St Vincent,
Montserrat, Nevis, St Christopher's, Honduras, the
Virgin Islands, the Bahamas, and the Bermudas ; and
the second, Trinidad and St Lucia. The governor has
the chief civil and military authority; the council is
somewhat analogous to the privy-council in this country,
and the House of Assembly to the House of Comm«)|i8.
A member of the House of Assembly in Jamaica must
possess a freehold of £300 per annum, or a peteonal
estate of £3000; and an elector must have a ireehoid
of £10 per annum in the parish for which he votes.
Some of the islands have coily lieutfanant-govemon,
who are under the governor of some adjacent island.
The lieutenant-governors of Bt Vincent, Grenada, To-
bago, and Guiana, are under the governor of Barttadoee.
Their powers, however, are nearly equal to those of a
governor. In those islands which have no representa-
tive assnmbly, the legislative council consists of the chief
secretary, the treasurer, the chief-justice, the attorney-
general, and the commander of the troops. These are
appointed by the crown; and sometimes a few of the
principal landed proprietors are made members of the
council. Several islands are sometimes included in one
government, who send their representatives to the
island which is the seat of legislature for the time
beinp. Thus, in the Leeward Islands, 8t Christopher's,
Nevis, Montserrat, and one or two other small islands,
lend their repiMcntntivwi to Aatigus, wfaidi if the seat

WEBT INDIA ISLAinOS.

BiBingpowen

llcf Towns.

of goTWnBt«nt tat them all; or, in other wordi, the
reiidenoe at the goremor. The luperior and inferior
courts of judicature resemble those in England, the
laws being the same, unless as they may be affected by
the special colonial enactments passed from time to
time. Assize courts are frequently held to expedite
the course of justice. There are likewise parish courts,
wherein justices of the peace decide summarily in small-
debt cases. There are offices where all deeds, wills,
■ales, and patents, are recorded. All persons intending
to leare the island are obliged to give notice at the
office of enrolment three weeks before they can be
entitled to a pass, or to find security for what debts
they may leave unpaid in the island ; and for further

grecaution, masters of vessels are taken bound, under
eavy penalties, not to carry off any person without
Buch pass. The procedure of the Assembly follows ae
near as may be the formula of the British legislature,
and all their bills have the force of laws as soon as the
governor's assent is obtained. The power of rejection,
however, is vested in the crown, but, until rejected, the
laws are valid. The governor can also refuse bis assent
to all such laws, and can dissolve and call together the
Assembly at pleaeure. With these preliminary observa*
tious, we proceed to notice the principal islands : —

Jamaica.

This is the third island in point of size in the wcfitem
hemisphere, being inferior only to Cuba and St Douiingo.
It lies about 100 miles south of the former, and about
90 west of the latter. It is 160 miles long, 45 broad,
and contains about 4,000,000 acres of land. This island
wae discovered by Columbus duri.ig his second voyage,
and was well populated at tha'.; period. The natives
opposed his landing at first, but he soon effected a re-
conciliation with them, and took possession of the
island in the name of his sovereign. In 1509, the
island was formally occupied by Spanish settlers tinder
the command of a deputy -governor ; but for many
years they were engaged in incessant warfare with the
natives. The settlers committed great atrocities on the
Indians, whom they at last completely extirpated, not
a single native being left alive when the English took
possession of the island in 1655, nor, it is said, for a
century before. During the period the Spaniards held
possession of Jamaica, they appear to have made some
advancement in agriculture ; but their rapacity for
gold, which they were constantly in search of, pre-
vented any great improvement in this department.
They, however, cultivated the sugar-cane, the vine,
and the cotton -tree, and introduced cattle from
Europe. Cromwell greatly encouraged the settlement
of Jamaica ; and in the course of a few years, the
number of whites amounted to 4500, and 1400 Negroes.
The population rapidly increased, the settlers being
principally soldiers from the disbanded Parliamentary
army, and outlaws from the mother country. Nume-
rous importations of Negro slaves also took place,
which in 1688 were calculated to amount to 10,000
annually; and from that time till now the population
in most of the islands has gradually increased.

Jamaica has been subjected to several dreadful
earthquakes; one of which, in 1692, caused almost the
entire loss of the town of Port Royal. This town was
also reduced to ruins by fire in 1703; and a similar
catastrophe took place so recently as 1815. It was
also much injured in 1722 by one of those dreadful
hurricanes so frequent in tropical climes. The white
inhabitants have been repeatedly in danger from the
revolts of their slaves, which were the occasions of much
bloodshed and cruelty on both sides. The slaves are
■aid to have been at first instieatod to rebellion by the
Spaniards; but being defeated by their English masters,
they fled to the mountains, assumed the name cf Ma-
roons, and continued for nearly a century and a-half in
oonptant hostility with the colonists. The most remark-
able rebellion broke out in 1795, and which has been
known nnoe by the name of the Maroon War. No
other CTcnt occurred to diiturb the peace of Jamaica

ostil 1881, when an exteniire revolt took plaoe from
the exaggerated hopes of the Negroes for emandpation.
It is remarkaUe, that during this revolt, although
much property was destroyed, no personal violence was
offered to any white person, beyond a few hours' cap-
tivity. Since the passing of the Emancipation Act, no
disturbances of any importance have taken plaoe.

Jamaica is of an oval shape, and presents a greater
variety of scenery and climate than any other island in
the West Indies. A range of mountains called the
Blue Mountains, runs from one end to the other, and
rises in some parts to the height of nearly €000
feet above the level of the sea. These are again
occasionally intersected by cross ridges running north
and south. At the south end, near the sea, these
mountains are in some parts covered with forests, high
and abrupt in ar^ "^arance, and difficult of access. On
the other side the hills rise with a gentle acclivity,
and are separated from each other by vales, the vege-
tation of which is described as extremely luxuriant and
beautiful. The mountains are generally of a conical
form, very steep, and approaching on the north side
very near to the sea. The deep ravines between the
lofty mountains are densely covered with woods, and
are denominated * cockpits.' These offer a striking
contrast to the lower mountains, where the coffee-plant,
pimento, cotton, &c. are cultivated. On the south side,
the mountains are situated a little distance from the
sea, leaving plains of about twelve miles wide.

There are numerous rivers in Jamaica, two hundred
of which have been enumerated; but none, owing to
the irregular nature of the country, are navigable for
vessels of any burthen. They are extremely valuable,
however, in the cultivation of the soil; the great height
from whidi the water runs allowing it to be carried a
considerable length in irrigating the country, and turn-
ing mills upon plantations. The rapidity of the current
also prevents it from stagnating; and thus it is kept
pure for animals to drink from its source to the ocean.
There are sixteen principal harbours, which afford se-
cure havens for shipping, and about thirty bays or
roads with good anchorage.

The soil of the country is generally deep and fertile,
presenting a shining appearance to the eye when first
turned up. In some parts it is of a chocolate colour;
in others a bright yellow, and even scarlet. The best
soil for cultivation is what is terme'^ the brick-mould,
which is of great depth, so rich as to require no manure,
and of a quality which seems well suited for the climate.
It is so far retentive, that in dry weather it retains
enough of moisture for the preservation of the plants,
and BO porous as to admit of the superfluous water
sinking through it during heavy rains. This soil is com-
posed of clay, sand, and black mould, and is thought
the best soil in the island for the cultivation of the
sugar-cane. The next soil in point of fertility is the black
shell-mould; and there are many varieties through-
out the island all more or less fitted for cultivation. A
rich lead ore is found in some parts of the country,
which is impregnated with silver. This ore is worked
at Liguana; and varieties of copper, striated antimony,
and ironstone, have also been obtained.

Jamaica is divided into three counties — Middlesex,
Surrey, and Cornwall. The seat of government is
Spanishtown, in the county of Middlesex, situated at
the extremity of an extensive plain. The mountains
closely approach the town, and the rivej Cobre runs past
it, at a distance of about a quarter of a mile. The town
is not large, but the buildings are very magnificent,
being built in the style of Spanish architecture. Kings-
ton is the most important town in the island, and is gene-
rally considered as the capital, although not nominally
•BO. It is situated upon a gentle inclined plain, which
is enclosed on the north b^ the Liguana ridge of
mountains. These mountauu form a sort of semi-
circle, and the plain stretches down to the harbour,
which is amongst the finest in the world. It affords
excellent anchorage all round, and thv; largest mer-
chant ships can ndo cloee is ihore. This barbotu ia

91*

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

defended by numeroui batteries, and ii contidered
perfectly una«8ailable from the tea. The streets of
Kingston are built with the greatest regularity, some-
what in the style of the New Town of Edinburgh.
The houses are principally of wood, and in general
two storeys high, with verandas above and below. The
town contains about 40,000 inhabitants, of whom 12,000
are whites, and the rest people of colour. Montego
Bay, situated on the opposite side of the island^ from
Kingston, is a seaport of some importance. It lies at
the foot of a range of mountains which nearly surround
the town, and possesses a neat church and commodious
barracks. Falmouth is situated about fifteen miles east
of Montego, and is rising rapidly to importance. The
harbour in the inside is deep and well sheltered, but
the entrance is intricate, and not more than 17 fe«t
deep across the bar. The town is built on the west side
of the harbour, and possesses several good public build-
ings. There is more produce shipped from this port
than from any other in the island after Kingston.

Trinidad.

This island, the next in importance to Jamaica of the
British West India possessions, is favourably situated
ac the mouths of the large river Orinoco; being sepa-
rated from the continent of South America by the Oulf
of Paria. It is 90 miles long and 50 broad, with an
area of 2400 square miles. It was discovered by Co-
lumbus in 1498, and was colonised by the Spaniards in
1588, at which time it was well populated with Caribbs,
who were of a mild disposition and industrious habits.
The native inhabitants, however, were soon either de-
stroyed or sent to the continent of America to work in
the mines by the Spaniards. The island belonged to
Spain until 1797, when it was taken by the Britisu, and
has ever since remained a colony of this country.

Along the south and no.'th sides of this island run
two ridges of mountains, extending nearly across the
countiy, and along the north shore, giving it the
appearance at a distance of being nothing but an
immense line of rocks. The western side for some dis-
tance is flat, richly wooded, and is described as pre-
senting a most beautiful appearance. The high moun-
tains of Cumana on the American continent are visible
from this side; and when viewed from a height, with
the Gulf of Paria, and the beautiful verdure of the
island, present a picture which is scarcely to be equalled.
The centre is diversified with many finely-wooded hills,
and valleys of the greatest fertility. The highest land
lies on the north side, and in some parts reaches 3000
feet in height. The other mountains are not of any
great elevation, but they are all thickly covered with
wood and pasture. There are numerous rivers in this
island, several of which are navigable fur ships of some
size. Tha best harbour in the island is that of Port
Boyal, after which Port-of-Spain, which has the roost
extensive bay in the world; and all uround the west
coast there are numerous bays, which aflbrd good
anchorage for shipping. Several craters exist in Tri-
nidad, some of which give occasional uidications of not
being quite extinct. Mud volcanoes also occur, the
largest of which is 150 feet in diameter. The mud
never overflows, but remains always within the surface
of the crater; and when one crater ceases to act,
another appears in its vicinity. The celebrated pitch
lake is situated on a small ]>eninsula, about eighty feet
above the level of the sea. The pitch has usually the
appearance of pit coal, but is gray in colour, and some-
what hard, except in very hot weather, when it becomes
liquid to a small depth. The lake is about a mile and
a-ltalf in circumference, with several small islands
covered with trees, and the country around is wooded
to its banks. The soil of Trinidad, generally speaking,,
is good; the only barren parts being the sandy plains,
and these occasionally afford pasturage for cattle. The
•ugar-cane, coffee, and cocoa are cultivated to a con-
siderable extent, and the produce is increasing verv
rapidly. Several spices have also been iatioduceu,
ffuch as the uutmeg, cinnamon, and clove.
SIS

The capital of the island is Port-of-Spain, which it
said to be one of the finest towns in the West Indies.
The streets are wide, and intersect each other so as to
catch every breeze. The houses are all built of stone,
none being allowed to be erected of wood. There Me
also numerous other ports around the island, which are
gradually rising in importance.

Tobngo.
This island is about 32 miles long and 12 broad, and
is the most southerly of the West India Islands. It is
about six miles distant from Trinidad, at the east end,
and about sixty miles from Grenada. Tobago was dis-
covered by Columbus in 1496; and in 1580 it was taken
possession of by the English. It was afterwards settled
by some Dutch colonists; and after many takings and
retakings, it was ceded to Britain at the peace of 1763.
In 1781 Tobago was captured by the French, but was
retaken in 1793 by the British, with whom it has ever
since remained. Its appearance from the north is
gloomy and mountainous, being principally composed
of conical hills and ridges, which in some parts reach
the height of 1800 feet. The north-west is the least
mountainous, and the south is diversified with occa-
sional hills and rich valleys. There are a nuD-*)er of
small streams, which, rising in the bills, water the low
country down to the sea. The natural harbours in this
island are numerous, and several of them adapted for
ships of the largest class. The chief town is Scar-
borough, situated on the south-west side. It is built
without much regard to regularity, and is about half a
mile from Fort King George, the principal military
station. The soil is rich, and the produce as varied as
that of any of the other islands.

Grenada and iU Dependencioi),

This beautiful island is situated about sixty milet
from the American co,ist; is 25 miles long, and 12 at
its greatest breadth, and contains 80,000 acres of land.
It was discovered by Columbus in 1498, but was not
settled till 1650, when a party of French from Marti-
nique took possession of it. It was taken from the
French by the British in 1 762 ; again retaken, but
finally ceded to Britain in 1783. The face of the
country is hilly, irregular, and extremely picturesque.
There are a number of rivers, none of which are of any
great importance for commercial purposes, but all use-
ful for irrigating the country. Several hot springs
exist; and a fresh-water lake, 2} miles in circum-
ference, is situated at an elevation of 1740 feet above
the level of the sea. The capital is the town of St
George, situated within an amphitheatre of hills. The
houses are well built, of stone or brick, and the streets
wide and well ventilated. The harbour is spacious,
protected on all sides from hurricanes, and is said to be
capable of containing 1000 ships. Cotton was formerly
the chief article produced on this island, but sugar,
cocoa, and coffee are now also cultivated.

The Grenadines are a group of small islands running
towards St Vincent, the largest of which are Carriacou,
Becquia, Canuan, &c. Several of these islands are in-
habited, and produce sugar, cotton, fruits, live-stock,
&c. in great abundance.

ft Vincent and its Dependencies.
This is thought the most beautiful of the Caribbean
islands. It is about 24 miles long and 20 broad; fifty-
^ive miles west of Barbadoes, and about tho same dis-
tance from Grenada. It was discovered by Columbus
in 1498; was first settled by the French; captured by
the British, and retaken ; but finally ceded to this
country in 17U3. Its character is decidedly volcanic,
traces of rocks which have undergone the action of fire
being everywhere visible. The mountains ore high and
sharp at the top, running from north to south, with
deep valleys between. The soil is of a strong loam in
the valleys, but assumes a more sandy nature on the
hilly ground. In 1812, St Vincent was visited by a
Hvere volcuic eruption, the matter from which nearlj*

WEST INDIA ISLANDS.

»ini which ii
West Indies,
ither 10 oa to
uilt of (tone,
I. There !u-e
id, which are

12 broad, and
slands. It ii
the ea«t end,
bago was dis-
) it was taken
wards settled

takings and
eace of 1763.
nch, but was
n it has ever
Ihe north is
illy composed
) parts reach
; is the least
d with occa-

a nuD-Ser of
rater the low
'hours in this
I adapted for
own is Scar-
It is built

about half a
ipal military
) as Taried as

it sixty miles
ig, and 12 at
teres of land,
but was not
from Marti-
en from the
retaken, but
face of the
picturesque.
;h are of any
but all use-
hot springs
in circum-
feet above
town of St
hills. The
d the streets
is spacious,
is said to be
vas formerly
but sugar,

nds running
-e Carriacou,
ands are in-
I, live-stock,

e Caribbean
liroad; fifty-
I'l same dis-
y Columbus
Mptured by
ied to this
lly volcanic,
ction of fire
iK high and
south, with
>ng loam in
ture on the
'isited by a
hioh nearly

covered the whole surface of the island. The damage
done to the island was not gren but fifty persons lost
their lives on the occasion. Tli< island is divided into
five parishes, of which the principal is St George, in
which the capital, Kingston, is situated. The houses of
the town are built of stone in the lower storeys and
wood in the upper; and there are many commodious
public buildings, but none of them of any great elegance.
There is a famous botanic garden about one mile from
Kingston, occupying about thirty acres of ground, and
containing a fine collection of tropical plants. The
most celebrated object in this island is the Souffriere, a
volcano, the crater of which is 3 miles in circumfer-
ence and 500 feet in depth. The climate is thought very
healthy; but hurricanes are frequent, and sometimes
venr destructive. There are eight small islands adjoining
to St Vincent, which are cultivated ; but they are not of
inch importance as to warrant particular mention.

Barbadoes.
Ihis is the most easterly of the Caribbean islands,
and was the first settlement made by the British in the
West Indies. It is about 22 miles in length and 14 in
breadth, containing an area of 106,470 acres. The
period of the discovery of this island is unknown, the
first mention made of it being in 1600. It was colo-
nised by the British in 1625, Charles I. having made a
grant of it to the Earl of Carlisle, who encouraged emi-
gration to the island. A society of London merchants
accepted of 1 0,000 acres on certain conditions, and sent
out a governor of their own. After this the settlers
increased very rapidly: and in 1650, it was computed
that there were upwards of 20,000 British in the island.
During the Commonwealth, an armament was fitted
out by Cromwell against Barbadoes, for adhering to
the royal cause, which committed great depredations
against the inhabitants; and since this time the popu-
lation has rather decreased. The island is generally
level, except in the north-east quarter, and here, in
some parts, the hills reach the height of 1100 feet. It
has a Deautiful appearance, from the land being well
cultivated and the vegetation luxuriant. The soil is
good, varying from a rich deep mould to a light sand,
and a red clay of considerable depth is occasionallv
found. There are a number of springs in the island,
one of which casts up <v bituminous matter called Bar-
badoes tar, and another emits a stream of sulphuretted
hydrogen gas, which can be ignited. Oxen, horses, and
other cattle are plentiful, the first being most generally
used for labour. Considerable numbers of hogs and
poultry ore reared; and, indeed, this island is distin-
guished from most of the West India colonies by the
quantity of provisions which are raised, the inhabitants
depending little upon foreign supplies.

Bridgetown, the capital, is situated on the shores of
Carlisle Bay, and contains about 20,000 houses. The
town if well laid out, many of the houses are very hand-
some, and spacious barracks occupy the southern extre-
mity. The climate is considered 'wealthy, but would feel
extremely hot were it not for tbs) constant trade-winds.
The island is subject to hurricanes, one of which in 1780
laid waste its whole extent. The loss of lives on this
melancholy occasion was estimated at 3000, and pro-
perty valued at upwards of £1,000,000 was destroyed.
Barbadoes seems to have reached the height of its pro-
sperity at the end of the seventeenth century, and since
tut time the population has decreased.

8t Luola.
This inland is about 32 miles long and 12 broad.
The English were the first who made a settlement in
St Lucia, but the colonists were completely destroyed
by the natives. It was again settled, and since that
time has passed repeatedly from the British to the
French, until 1S03, when it was captured by the Bri-
tish,' in whose possession it has evor since remained.
This island is traversed longitudinally, or from north
to south, by a ridge of lofty mountains, which ternii-
qate in most fantastic pe&ki. These mountains are

densely wooded, and at times, from the attraction of
the trees, are completely enveloped in clouds. On the
west coast there is an excellent harbour called the
' Little Careenage,' which, admitting only one ship at a
time, is capable of containing thirty ships of the line.
The island is divided into Basseterre, the low or lee-
ward country, which is the best cultivated district, and
Capisterre, the high country. Both of these districts
are considered unhealthy; the first from the abundance
of stagnant water, and the other from the denseness of
the woods. As cultivation proceeds, however, these
causes will be removed, and the island rendered as
healthy as any in its neighbourhood. The capital is
Castries, which is the only town in the island, and a
place of no importance. There is a small island called
Pigeon Island about six miles from St Lucia, which
is considered a healthy and important military station.

Dominica.
This island is situated between the French colonics
of Martinique and Guadaloupo, and is about 29 miles
in length and 16 in bseadth, containing nearly 186,436
acres. It was considered a neutral island until 1759,
when it was taken possession of by the British, with
whom, after bein^ repeatedly taken and retaken, the
island still remaus. Dominica is of volcanic origin,
and has many lofty mountains, the highest of which is
5314 feet above the sea's level. Several of these moun-
tu ,a contain active volcanoes, which fi'> ^uently dis-
charge vast quantities of burning sulphur; and there
are many hot-water springs throughout the island. The
valleys are fertile, well watered with thirty fine rivers
and numerous smaller streams. The trees are loiuy,
affording the finest timber, such as locust-wood, rose-
wood, mastic, iron-wood, cinnamon, bastard mahogany,
and a gum-tree of considerable value. Domestic ani-
mals are very abundant throughout the island; and
indeed all European animals succeed extremely well
in this place, fh the woods are innumerable swarms
of bees, which lodge in the trees, produce large quanti-
ties of both wax and honey, and are said to be identical
with the European bee. The capital is Charlottetown,
situated in the parish of St George, The streets are
spacious, well paved, and from the heights above tho
town look new and clean. The roadstead is open to
the hurricanes, which frequently occur from August to
October, but otherwise safe. Prince Rupert's Bay is the
safest harbour in the island, and is said to be capable
of containing the whole British navy.

Montserrat.
This is one of the smallest of the British West India
Islands, being only about 12 miles long and 7i broad.
It was discovered by Columbus, first settled by the
English, and taken once by the French; but has ever
since remained a colony of this country. Montserrat
appears to be of volcanic origin, and presents a very
uneven and mountainous surface. It is extremely diffi-
cult of access from tre broken character of the land,
and the coral beds and rocks which stud the sea around
the southern part of it. The mountains are in many
places inaccessible, and seem to have been separated
from each other by some strong convulsion, from their
banks being so precipitous. Both mountains and val-
leys are covered with wood; and many fine streams
water the low lands. The capital is Plymouth, a small
but well-built town, the houses of which are con-
structed of stone, and exceedingly comfoitable. Indigo
was formerly much cultivated in this island, but this
article has been abandoned ; and the principal produc-
tions now are cotton and sugar, the latter of which is
much esteemed. This island has been called the Mont-
pelier of the West Indies, from the hoalthy nature of
the climate, although occasionally subject to hurricanes.

Autigua.
This island, which was discovered by Columbus in
1493, is about 20 miles long, 54 in circumference, and
contains an area of 69,277 acres. It was first settled

317,

OHAMBEBCPS INVOBlIATIOlf FOB THE PEOPLE.

in 16»2 bjr the Englidi, but iti ptomm wm •low at
first, in conswjuwioe of tlw want of w«t«r, Antigua
is loraewhat otuI in ahap«, iniUnted witli many bays,
and •URoanded with imall iilanda, rocki, and ithoals,
which render it difficult cf acceii. The fi»ce of the
countirin the north-eatt part ifl low, and even marshy,
but it gradually rises towaTils the south and west.
None of the hills are of any great eleration, the highest
being littlt) more than 1200 feet above the sea's level.
The island being almost destitute of water, the colo-
nists are obliged to have tanks to collect the rain
which falls during the wet season. The land, however,
is very fertile, and vegetation in every part luxuriant.
Tobacco was formerly much cultivated, but the sugar-
cane has entirely superseded this commodity ; and
there are several medicinal plants produced on the
isliutd, such as the aloe, quassia, ke. The capital, St
John's, is > Ituated on the north-west, and possesses nn
excellent harbour. Ei>glishtown, on the south, is the
next town which has a fine harbour, with a royal
naval-yard, arsenal, and conveniences for careening
ships. The whole coast is indented with bays, which,
although difficult of access, afibrd excellent shelter to
•hipping. The climate is dry and healthy; and the
island is not subjected to either heavy dews or severe
hurrieanea, like most of the other islands. Antigua is
ruled by a governor, who is also commander-in-chief
over Montaerrat, Barbuda, Anguilia, St Christopher's,
Nevis, the Virgin Islands, and Dominica; with a legis-
lative council and House of Assembly. Antigua was
the first island to am<)liorate the slave laws, by afford-
ing the accused the benefit of trial by jury; and an act
of Assembly, I3th February 1834, decreed the emanci-
pation of every slave without requiring the period of
apprenticeship prescribed by parliament.

St Christopher's or St Kitt'B.
This island, situated in latitude 17° 18' and longi-
tude 62° 40^, is 72 miles in circumference, and con-
tains 68 square mile*. It was discovered by Co-
lumbus, who is said to have given it his own name;
and it was first settled 't,y an Englishman of the name
of Wamey, and fourteen associates. Warner found
several Frenchme'i already on the island; and these
two parties, after ?nakiug war upon the natives, divided
the island between then — one part, called Capisterre,
or high country, being assigned to the French; and the
other part, called Buseterre, or low country, given to
the English. Many bloody battles were fought netwcen
these two parties until 1713, when the wuole island was
ceded to Britain. St Christopher's is of an irregular
oblong shape, divided from north to south by a ridge of
mountains; and the whole land of the island is some-
what elevated, sloping gradually from the centre to the
•ea. The greatest height is Mount Misery, which rises
37 1 1 feet, almost perpendicularly, and is clothed with
vegetation nearly to the summit. There is no plain in
the island which can be called swampy, the gradual fall
if the ground carrying off any superfluous moisture
from the earth. Tl « vale of Bitsseterre is described as
extremely beautiful, the ground lieing very rich, and
crerjrwhere highly cultivated. The soil is chiefly of a
dark-gray loam, lying upon a bed of ashes, very porous,
and is considered the finest soil for the cultivation of
the Bugiir-cane in the West Indies. There is said to be
a sulphur min« in one of the mountains of the centre,
and another of silver; but it does not app'^a.- Ifiat these
have ever be< worked. The island is watereij by four
rivers, none of them of any size; and there are nume-
rous spring's in the low land*. These, however, from
strong saline impregnations, are not fit for drinking,
and the inhabitants have to collect rain water in tanks
for domestic purposes. The capital it Basseterre, which
if the best shipping station.

Nevis.
Thie beautiful little island, consisting only of a single
iBoautaiD, which rises like a cone out m the sea, green,
unbroken, and rerdant t« the lUBmit, wu discuTered
318

by Columbus at the same time with St Chriatopher'i^
from which it is separated by a channel about 2 milee
broad. It was first taken possession of by a party of
English from St Christopher's; and the population ie
said to have rapidly increasod. The mountain of
which Nevis is composed is about 4 miles in length
and 3 in breadth ; its area being about 20 square
miles. The hill ia well cultivated; and at the height
where cultivation ceases, evergreen forest -trees grow
luxuriantly, the whole island having a cheerful pic>
turesque aspect. The capital is Charlcstown, whicn ii
described as a neat well-built town, with several hand-
some public edifices. \ '

Barbuda and Anguilia.
These two islands, although far separated, may pre-
perly be classed together, from the similarity of theii
scenery and the occupations of the inhabitants. Bar-
bi>.da IS situated about twenty miles nurth-east of St
Christopher's, and ten north of Antigua. It is about
20 miles long and 12 broad. The first notice made
of Barbuda is in the time of Queen Anne, when it
was given in perpetual grant to General Codrington
and his descendants, by whom the greater portion of it
is still possessed. Anguilia, or Snake Island, is about
100 miles north of Barbuda, and the same distanee
north-north-west of St Christopher's, it is 30 miles
long and 3 broad, and receives its name (signifying
an eel) from the peculiarly winding shape it presents.
These islands were both first settled by the British ;
and although subject to occasional attacks from other
powers, they have always rentained in the possession of
this country. The interior aspect of these two islands
is quite different from that of any of our other West
Indian settlements, being in many respects indeed
quite English. The sole occupation of the inhabitants
is rearing stock, and cultivating provisions, for which
a ready market is found iu the neighbouring islands.

Virsin Islands.
This name was giren by the discoverer Columbus
(in 1493) to a group of about forty small islands, lying
to the northward of the Leeward Caribbean Islands,
and between them and Puerto (w Porto) Rieo. They
extend about 24 leagues from east to west, and
al>out 16 from north to south. They are divided
between the British, Danes, and Spaniards, but much
the larger and more valuable number belong to the
former. The British Virgin Islands were first possessed
by a party of Dutch buctneers, who built a fort on Tor-
tola, but they were expelled soon after by a party of
English. They have remained in the possession of this
country ever since. The largest of these islands is
Auegada, the next Tortola ; and although never con-
sidered of any great importance, they afforded tijicel-
lent shelter to shipping during the late war. Tortola
is mountainous, the interior containing large tracts of
waste land Jiflicult of access. The soil b thin, and
not wdl-suited to the cultivation of the sugar-cane,
although this and cotton are the chief articles of pro*
duee. The harbour of Tortola is very extensive, com-
pletely landlocked, and has afforded shelter in manv
eiises during the war to 400 vessels. Anegada, although
the largest island in extent, is of little importance,
only a very small portion of it being under cultivation.
It is surrounded by a reef which renders it difficult of
access, and the other islands being so near, it is little
frequented. Virgin Oorda is of an irregular shape, and
contains two good bays, where ships may ride in secu-
rity. The soil is of a light saudy nature, and the diief
articles of produce are nigar, indigo, tobacco, and cot-
ton. These islands are subject to the government of
St Kitt's, with a council and assembly of their own.

The Babamaa or Iiueayos Islands.

These are the most northerly of all the West Indian

islands, stretching towards the coast of Florida, and

forming with it t^ channel called the Strait of Florida.

Thej were the tot land diaco?end hj Columbus in

WEtn? HfDIA IBLANVS.

lirittOT>li«r'i,
bout 2 milM
tj » party of
lopulation ia
nountain of
e« ill length
t 20 Bqaara
,t the height
I -trees grow
;heerful pic-
iWD, which ia
ereral hand-

ed, may pre-
^rity of theHf
tanta. Bar-
h-east of St
It ia about
notice made
ine, when it
1 Codrington
portion of it
tnd, 18 about
>me distance
i« 30 miles
) (signifying
t it presents,
the British ;
8 from other
possession of
B two islands
r other West
pects iiidecd
) inhabitants
ns, for which
ng islands^

^r Columbus
slands, lying
ean Islands,
Rieo. They

west, and
are dirided
8, but much
ilong to the
rst possessed
fort on Tor-
y a party of
ission of thii

islands is

never eon-
>rded bAcel-
ar. Tortola
ge tracts of

thin, and
sugar-cane,
cles of pro-
eniire, com-
er in many
la, although
importance,
eultiTation.

difficult of
, it is little

shape, and
de in secu-
)d the diief
»>, and cot-
vmment of
leirown.

''est Indian
Jorida, and
of Florida.
)lumbtt> in

1402, and amount in number to fully 600. The island
which gires the name to the whole is the most northern,
as « jll as the most important of the group. A settle-
ments was established by the Brtish in 1629, which
was ravaged by the French and Spaniards several
times, and the group of islands became a nest for
pirates, until the begmning of the last century, when
they were expelled by the British. The Bahamas are
evidently of coral formation, and although iiat, they
have a very pleasing aspect, from the richness of the
vegetiition. The ehief island is New Providence, which
contains the capital Nassau. These islands are very
healthy, and from their situation the climate is delight-
ful, being of a medium temperature. The chief article
produced for exportation is cotton, neither sugar nor
coiTee Iiaving succeeded. Provisions of all sorts are
very plentiful, cattle and sheep thrive well, and the
shores abound «ith fish and turtle.

Bermudas, or Somen' Islands.
These are a small cluster of islands, lying almost in
the shape of a shepherd's crook, in latitude H2° 20', and
longitude 64° 5U', distant about 600 miles from the
nearest point of the American continent. Their dis-
covery was owing to the shipwreck of Juan d« Ber -
mude2, a Spaniard, who was driven ashore upon these
islands while on a voyage from Spain to Cuba. The
same fate happened to Sir George Somers, an English-
man, in 1600, who was the first to colonise the Bermu-
das. They are upwards of 300 in number, contain
about 14,000 acres of land, and arr so much alike ia
character, that to describe one is to describe the whole.
The principal islands are St George, Ireland, St David,
Somerset, Long and Birds' Islands, &c. These lie close
together, in such a way as to form capacious bays,
which afford good anchorage when once got into. The
coast, however, is of the most dangerous description,
being thickly studded with rocks, which are visible at
low water, and disappear at flood tide. The chief
articles of produce consist of arrowroot, coffee, cotton,
and indigo. The soil is very fertile, and produces
many kinds of vegetables fit for food; and medicinal
plants, such as the aloe, jalap, &c. grow spontaneously.
The wikale is an annual visitor to the coast, the catch-
ing of which forms a lucrative employment to the in-
habitants. Bermudas possesses no fresh-water streams,
and only a few wells, the water of which is brackish;
but there are a great many tanks which fill during the
rainy season, and supply the inhabitants. The climate
is not considered healthy, the yellow fever being of fre-
quent occurrence. The Bermudas have never been
considered of great importance to this countiy ; but
the^ are likely to become more so in consequence of
their being formed into a penal settlement.

Notwithstanding their richness and fertility, the
favours conferred by the mother country, <uid the ex-
ertions of British industry and capital, our West Indian
possessions are at present far from being in a prosperous
condition either as regards produce or trade. In 1831
the exports amount^ to £8,000,000, and in 1841 to
less than £6,000,000. In 1831 about 4,000,000 ewt8.of
sugar were exported; in 1841 scarcely 2,000,000. In
1831 the exports of rum exceeded 7,000,000 gallons;
in 1841 less than 3,000,000. In 1831 there were up-
wards of 20,000,000 lbs. of coffee exported; in 1841 less
than 10,000,000. The imports from Britain alone in
1842 amounted to £2,591,425; in 1843 to £2,882,441;
in 1844 to £2,451,477; in 1845 to £2,789,211; and in
1846 to £2,505,587 : thus exhibiting no increased ca-
pability on the part of the population to purchase those
luxuries and necessaries which they do not and cannot
manufacture for themselves. This unsatisfactory state
of matters some attribute to emancipation and the
difficulty of procuring cheap and efficient labour; but
others, who take a more English and business view of
the subject, are inclined to impute the whole to absen-
teeism and expensive living on the part of the planters,
who wee thus compelled in most instnoon to mortgage

their estates on diEadvantageoui termi, and ultimately
to submit to a ruinously-expensive system of marage-
ment )>y law agents, factors, and the like, instead of
personally superintending and combatting with the dif-
ficulties attendant upon the introduction of free labour
in an economical and sk^ful manner. Be this as it
may, what with military and civil expenses, what with
buying from these planters under high protective duties
— to say nothing of trouble and obstruction to home
affurs — we are annually losing by our West India o??
nection several millions per annum.

FOREIGN POSSESSIONS.

Frenoh.

The French possessions in the West Indies comprise
the islands of iflartinique, Guadaloupe, Marie Qalante,
and Dcsirade. Martinique is situated at the entrance
to the Gulf of Mexico, aud is about 50 miles long %nd
20 broad, and 140 miles in circumference. It is of
Volcanic origin ; romantic in appearance ; and the
K)untains are covered with almost impenetrable
woods. Martinique is well watered ; and the soU
is good, although it varies much on account of the
volcanic eruptions, which have in some places covered
the surface of the land. About two -fifths of the
whole island are cultivated ; the rest being occu-
pied with mountains, forests, and plains, which latter
yield good herbage for cattle. Port Royal, the capi-
tal, is situated on one of the several bays which
indent the coast, and possesses the safest and most ca-
pacious harbour in the West Indies : population about
7000. The chief commercial town is St Pierre, which
is described as exceedingly neat : population 30,000.

Guadaloupe is situated in lat. 16° 20' north, and
long. 62° west. It is divided through the centre by a
small cLiinnel, which is navigable for vessels of fifty
tons, and forms, as it were, two islands. The eastern
division, called Grandeterre, is 14 leagues long, and 6
broad; aud the western, Basseterre, is 15 leagues long
and 14 broad. There are several volcanic mountains
in Guadaloupe, one of which still emits smc^e, and
sometimes sparks of fire. The island ie well watered,
and diversified with hills and valleys. The soil is good,
and yields abundance of finiits and grain. The chief
productions are sugar — which, although the cane reaches
a great height, is not good — and coffee, which is aiso of
an inferior description. The capital is Point h Pitre^
which possesses a spacious port. Basseterre is also a
considerable town, with many fine buildings.

Dcsirade aud V nie Galante are small islands, situ-
ated near Guadn ipe, and subject to its government.
The former is famous for its cotton, and the latter yieldr
chiefly sugar and coffee. These islands, along with
Guadialoupe, contain about 335,000 English acres, with
a mixed population of 120,000 inhabitants.

gpanish.

A few years ago the colonial possessions of Spain
extended from the frontiers of the United States almost
to Cape Horn. Now, she has not a foot of land on the
American continent; and of the islands, is possessed of
only two worth mentioning — Cuba and Porto Rico.

Cuba is by far the largest island in the West Indies^
being 700 miles in length and 117 at its greatest
breadth. It is traversed throughout its length by
chains of mountains, some of which reach the height
of 8000 feet above the levl of the sea. From these
mountains flow numerous streams which water the soil,
and render it highly productive of all tropical vege-
tables. The savannas, or plains, are very extensive,
stretching on both sides from the mountains to the sea.
The soil jf these p'ains is so fertile, that two, and 'sven
three, crops of grs m have been cut annually ; and dur-
ing the whole yr.<r the fields are covered with plants in
blossom. The island is very rich in minerals, particu-
larly copper, iron, and loadstone; and mines of gold
and silver have also been worked. Coal-mines have
likewise been opened, but it doee not appear that they

819

CHAUBEBffS mPOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

haT« been worked (o any extent. Cuba wai for a Ions
time little cultirated by the SpaniardB, being looked
upon more ai an intermediate station betireen the
mother country and her American poaseuioni, than
aa a raluable colony. Its position, commanding the
entrance to the Gulf of Mexico, givee it great com-
mercial importance ; and since the ports were oj)ened
to foreigners, the productions and trade of the island
hare greatly increased. The chief exports are sugar,
oofTee, and tobacco, which, manufactured into cigars,
is in high estimation. The capital is Havana, si-
tuated on the north side of the islaad, and the fiiiest
city in the West Indies. It possesses a splendid har-
bour, which, although narrow at the entrance, is with-
out bar, and, inside, is capable of containing lUOO ships.
The other towns in Cuba are Trinidad on the south,
Mantanxas on the north, Santiago de Cuba on the east,
and Villa del Principe in the heart of the island.

Porto Rico, the only other island belonging to Spain,
is situated about twenty-fire leagues to the eastward
of St Domingo. It is about 9U miles long, 33 in
average breadth, and contains 2970 square miles. It
is intersected by a chain of lofty mountains, which run
through it lengthwise, and possesses table-lands and
vidleyB of great fertility. The island is well watered
by rivers, some of which are navigable for two or three
leagues from their mouths; and they nil abound in ex-
cellent fish. The soil on the east and north is rich in
pasturage, and numbers of homed cattle are reared
by the inhabitants. That on the south side is well
adapted for the raising of sugar; but the climate is
often very dry, and the land parched. The climate of
this island is somewhat peculiar; on the north coast it
often rains during the whole year, while on tlie south
coast, an entire want of rain for twelve months is no
uncommon phenomenon. The chief productions are
sugar, cofiee, indigo, rice, and live-stock. The prin-
cipal towns are Mayagues and Aguadilla.

Dutch.

The Dutch possessions in the West I idies are Cu-
ra^a and St Eustatius, the islet of Sah.>, and part of
St Martin — all in the Caribbean group. The two for-
mer are naturally barren. Cura^'oa, from its proxi-
mity to South America, was formerly a place of great
contraband traffic; but since the independence of that
continent, it has ceased iu a great measure to be an
entrepot. It is 3U miles long and 11 broad, and pro-
duces sugar and tobacco. Like some of its sister isles,
it is entirely dependent on the rains for a supply of
water. It was held by the Spaniards until the year
1632, when it was taken by the Dutch, in whose hands
it has since remained.

St Eustatius consists of a single mountain, which is
29 miles in circu.iiference, and cultivated to the very
summit. The productions are sugar and tobacco, and
the population may be about 15,000. It was first co-
lonised by the Dutch in 1635, and continued for many
yean a subject of contention between them and the
French, by whom it was alternately possessed, until
1781, when it was captured by Admiral Rodney. The
booty which fell into the hands of the English on this
occasion was estimated at 4.''1,000,000 sterling. It was
restored to the Dutch by the peace of 1795; and after
being again captured by the English, was finally se-
cured to the Dutch by the peace of 1U14.

The small islands of Saba and St Martin are too
inconsiderable to require further mention.

Danish.
The Danish settlements, all belonging to the Carib-
bean group, ar? three in number — St Croix (or Santa
Cruz), St TiiORM, and St John, of which the former
alone is of any importance. It is about 81 miles
squire, ai.d contains about .30,000 inhabitants. The
soil is fertile and well cultivated, producing sugar,
rum, and tobacco. St Thomas is about 6 leagues in
circumference, and St John about the same. They are
both quite inconiiderable.
3:20

Swedlab.

The only colony belonging to the Swedish govern*
ment is the small island of St Bartholomew, about 15
miles in circumference. It has only one town and one
harbour — namely, Qustavia and Le Carenage.

INDEFKNDEMT ISLAND,
Bt Domingo.

This island, lying between Porto Rico on the east and
Jamaica and Cuba on the west, is 390 miles long, and
from 60 to 150 miles broad. It was discovered by
Columbus, who called it Hispaniola, or Little Spain ;
but the native inhabitants call it Haiti, or the moun-
tainous land. The French and Spaniards took pos-
session of the island in 1650, dividing it between them.
No particular event took place till the period of the
French Revolution, when, taking advantage of the con-
test between the royalists ai'.d republicans, the natives
and slaves rose in a body, massacred the whites, and
established their independence. Christophe, formerly
a slave, was elected chief, and governed the island with
great wisdom for a number of years. In 1811, he was
crowned king, created princes and nobles, and reigned
undisputed till 1820, when his jealousy and despotism
caused a general revolt, and seeing his affairs despe-
rate, he shot himself. A republic was then established,
which was scon extended over the whole island, the
Spanish half having also made a successful revolt.
The government at present consists of a president, m
senate, and chamber of representatives.

The greater part of the coast of St Domingo is
rocky and dangerous; but the bays of Samann and
Neyba afford secure anchorage for large ships. There
are also many ports, situated generally at the mouths
of rivers, in which small vessels can anchor with safety.
The rivers are numerous, the principal being the Haiua,
the Nigua, the Neyba, and the Yima, which are
navigable for some leagues from their entrance. The
country is mountainous, but interspersed with fine
plains of great fertility. The mountains intersect the
island from east to west, some of them reaching the
height of 6000 feet above the level of the sea. On tho
north-west side is an extensive plain, supposed to be
80 leagues long, and from 10 to 15 broad, which is
extremely fertile, being watered by numerous streams.
The soil is of the finest description, and is distinguished
by the variety of its vegetable productions — such aa
cabinet and dye-woods, building timber, drugs, cotton,
sugar, tobacco, and almost every species of tropical
fruits. The French and Spaniards introduced breed!
of horned cattle, hogs, sheep, hoi-ses, mules, and asses,
which have multiplied exceedingly, and are of great
value to the inhabitants. Mines of gold, silver, iron,
and copper were formerly found, but it does not ap«
pear that they are workeu to any extent at present.

St Domingo was formerly considered one of the most
important islands in the West Indies, and it is evident,
from its size and the fertility of the soil, that it might
be made so again. The policy of the government, since
the independence of the island was declared, has been
illiberal ; heavy burthens are imposed upon merchants
settling in the country; and all foreign merchandise is
liable to a duty of 12 percent, upon entering the coun-
try, except French, which pays 6 per cent. Sugar and
coffee were formerly exported in ve)7 large quantities,
but these have now very much decreased. The ex-
portation of wood has increased as that of sugar and
coffee have declined, and tobacco is also more exten-
sively cultivated. The population of the island has
diminished considera*-W since the revolution. Port-
au-Prince, the capital, u situated in. the department of
the west, has an excellent roadstead, and is the chief
seat of trade. The town is built of wood; the streets
are unpaved ; and from the marshy nature of the sur-
rounding country, it is very unhealthy in summer.
The population is about 15,000. The other towns aro
Port Haitien, which is the best -built place in the
island, Les Cayes, and St Domingo,

idiah gorern-
ew, about 15
;owu and one

the east and
lea long, and
iscorered bjr
Liittle Spain;
9r the moun-
Is took pos-
it ween them,
[leriod of the
;e of the con-
I, the natives
» whites, and
he, forroerlv
i island with
1811, he was
and reigned
id deapotiam
ffaira despe-

establiahed,
) iaiand, the
aaful revolt,
president, a

Domingo is
^aniana and
bins. There

the mouths

with safety,
g the Haina,

which are
ranee. The
1 with fine
inteTsect the
reaching the
ea. On the
iposed to be
ad, which is
ous streams,
iatinguiahed
as — such as
ruga, cotton,

of tropical
uced breeds
), and aaaes,
ire of great
silver, iron,
oes not ap-

preaent.
of the moat
t ia evident,
lat it might
ment, since
d, has been

merchants
rchandise is
g the coun-

Sugar and
quantities,
The ex-
' sugar and
lore ezten-
ialand has
ion. Port-
lartment of
a the chief
the streets
)f the aur-
1 summer.
: towns are
loe in the

THE HUMAN MIND.

Tub mind of man has in all times ranked among the
moat important aubjecta of human knowledge and in-
quiry. Beaidea being a wonderfully-framed and highly-
complicated piccf of work — infinite in faculty and
noble in reason, the mirror of thr vaat univerae with-
out — it ia the only seat of human iliug and conacioua
exiatence, the exclusive dwelling-place oi joy or wo.

There are three great distinct sources of knowledge
respecting the human mind, and these are also the
avcnuea open to ua for controlling its workings : —

I. Outward appearances, actiona, and works, and the
traces and results of these that are permanently en-
graved upon the face of external nature. The inner
workinga of the mind are displayed to aome extent in
the outward movementa of the body, in the featurea,
looks, utterance, gestures, and moveuenta, or in what
ia called the naoural language of man. Out the acts
and operations directed upon external thinga are a atill
more decided class of indications of the character of
the mind. The nature of the appetites is shown by
what is visibly seized and devoured; the inatincta are
made known by the autiona that each creature ia ob-
aerved^o perform on the material within ita reach, as
the capabilities of a machine are understood from the
effects that it can produce; the varioua paaaiona and
emotiona may be atudied through their varioua atagea
by noticing the object that excitea them, the agitation
and expreasion of the bodily frame, and the mode of
reaction upon the exciting cause. Anger, gratitude,
affection, reverence, are all aeen under external ap-
pearances, and by theae they may be diatinguiahed
and dcacribed, and their cauaea and effecta aacertair ed.
The acquired habita, and the varioua characteriatica
of memory, reaaon, intelligence, belief, conscience, are
shown in the same outward way. A child ia observed
one day attempting to repeat some act that it sees
others doing, the next day it has improved in ita
uttempta, and in a abort time longer it succeeds in
the operation; in which we discern the capacities of
observing, imitating, and acquiring new powers that
are inhei-ent in human nature. All the proceaaea and
worka whi-^h are performed upon the material of the
world are ao many aigtia or piecea of information aa to
the powers of the human mind acting through the
bodily organs. The faculties of digging, house-build-
ing, spinning, and of shaping tools to overcome the
powers ",nd reaiatance of^ the inanimate world, the
adaptation of means to enda, and the application of
the experience of the paat to the guidance of the
future, can each be read in clear outward characters,
like the rising of the sun, the course of the seasons, or
the flow of rivers to the sea. And in consequence of
the permanence of many of the products of human
labour, the purposes, capabilities, and employments of
departed generations may be made apparent to the
new. The remains of cities, fortifications, templea,
aepulchrea, m ..rket-placea, and highwaya, are so many
indications of the character and pursuits of the men
who built and occupied them; and we never hesitate
in inferring the one from the other. On the faith of
such relics we accribe taste, imagination, genius, gran-
deur of design, and laborious perseverance to one
people, a low order of inventive power to another, and
servility under a despotic government to a third. The
creation of the industrial arts, the organisation of
armies, the building up of the institutions of civil
society, the worship of the supernatural powers, the
investigation of nature, the invention of literature and
art, are all expressive of what is in man; and they
have always been referred to as examples and illustra-
tions of the wants, desires, capacities, and endovnnents
of the race. So that from the whole it must be appa-
No. 71.

rent that the ordinary actions and labours of living
beings, the things that aro seen to attract, repel, or in
anyway* influence them, their outward manifestations
under every variety of circumstances, the innumerable
works that thev are observed to engage in, or leave
tracea of behind them, form an abundant aource of the
knowledge now under our conaideration ; in a .vord,
the drama of human life, the tranaforinationa eflfected
on tie face of the external world, the history of man-
kind, and the entire aggregate of civiliaatiou, combine
to teach ua what the mind of man ia.

II. The aecond aource of our knowledge o' mind is
one that has been too much looked upon by metaphy-
sicians aa the main aource — namely, conaciouaness, or
the immediate feeling of the mind's doings, which is a
part of its nature. The works that a man leaves
behind him express a iium-total of desirea, purpoaea,
and capacltiea, rather than the detailed current
of emotion and thought. In order to reduce the
trains of mental working to their smallest indivi-
dual steps or links, we must attend to our own con-
sciousness. The great results of the human under-
standing maybe seen in the published thoughts, dis-
coveries, and transactions of thinking men; but the
ultimate laws that govern its operations cannot easily
be traced from these, although, when discovered, they
may be confirmed and illustrated by such results. The
structure of the imagination could not be so readily
derived from the ' Paradise Lost' as from the com-
parison of that great example with the consciousness
that we have of the workinga of the faculty in our-
aelvea. Hence we are to regard the impressions left
by the mind of its own sensations, thoughts, emotions,
actions, and volitions, and capable of being revived
and considered like any other impreaaiona, aa one of
the means of ascertaining the lawa and proceaaes and
general atnicture of this part of our nature.

III. The laat great aource of our knowledge of mind
ia the anatomy and phyaiology of the human frame-
work, or everything that can be ascertained reapecting
the atructure of the human aystem. A certain number
of the bodily organa ai>; directly subaervient to the
operations of the mind, and the mechanism of auc^i
organa will therefore be in aome meaaure a clue to
theae operations. The eye, the ear, the voice, the baud,
are all prominently aaaociated with the auaceptibilities
and activitiea of the mind ; the whole of the movable
members of the body, including the limbs, trunk, and
features, are employed in the varied play of thought
and passion. Moreover, a deeper examination of the
bodily frame has shown that the brain, and the innu-
merable nervous cords and threads issuing from it to
every part of the body, are most intimately and indis*
pensably allied with the workings and processes of the
mind, and must,' for that reaaon, have their confor-
mation and atructure adapted to the preciae nature of
thoae workinga and processea. Hence every discovery
relating to the atructure of the brain and nervous
ayatem, as well aa in the organa of aenae and motion,
ia likely to be of importance in ahowing the manner cf
working of the mind that they are expreaaly formed
to aerve. Thia claaa of fruitful diacoveqes has of late
yeara been very extenaive, and they promise to be of
the highest use in unravelling the complicated scheme
of human nature. As one striking example, it hai
been shown by Sir Charles Bell and others that the
nerves ramifying from 4he brain through the body are
of two distinct sets or kinds, although both are often
joined in the same bundles: and that the nerves of
one of the kinds are exclusively employed in carrying
impressions from the organs of sense and the different
pu.-ts of the body intvara to the brain, while the ner^ei

321

OHAMBEBB'S INFORUATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

of the other let tre as oxcluiivoly employed in carry
iiig influences outward from tho brain to the moTing
and other active organs of the lyttem; the ingoing «et
being commonly termed nerye* of «enie, the outgoing
nervea of motion. An impression of touch on the
fingers is carried to the bram by one nerve, an influ-
ence to put the fingers in motion is carried from the
htiiin outward by another nerve; and the same division
and distinctness of function are observed everywhere
throughout the system. The nervous framework is
thus to be regarded as a series of going and returning
ooDveyances between the bruin and the different parts
of the body ; or tlio mechanical arrangement that hae
been adopted in connoctine the mind with the bodily
organs is of a circular kind, like the course of the
blood. There is reason to believe that every impres-
sion made upon the senses, or anywhere upon the body,
and transmitted \>y the ingoing nerves, has a tendency
to excite in the brain an outgoing stimulus to some of
the outgoing nerves, which ends in putting in motion
some active member of the system. Every act of mind
requires not merely a nervous centre, such as some
portion of the brain, but a complete circle of brain,
nerves, and bodily organs, the round of which is de-
scribed by the nervous influence at each operation.
This must be reckoned the first principle of nervous
anatomy in its bearing upon the processes of mind.

The collective recorded experience of mankind, de-
rived from these three leading sources, are the mate-
rials bequeathed to us for learning the character and
mechanism of the human mind : these materials we
have to sift and compare with themselves, and with
our own independent obi'^rvations, until we obtain a
rigorous consistency in all our results. Among the in-
direct helps to the study of mind, in addition to these
three great direct sources, are to be reckoned the
•cieuoea that treat of the outer world.

REFLEX ACTIONS.

There are certain actions performed hj men and
uiimaU which are so distinctly seen to arise from an
outward stimulus reflected back from a centre in the
form of a movement, that they have specially received
the name of Reflex Actions. This directness of return,
however, is not their distinguishing character, but be-
longs to many actions not so named. What really dis-
tinguishes this class of movements, is their being per-
formed unconsciously, or their not passing through
what is properly the mental system of the creature.
Their effect is the same as some of the mental actions,
but they lie without tho boundary of the true mental
life. Their exposition is, nevertheless, necessary as a
preliminary to the study of the proper mental pheno-
mena. The following are some examples of them : —

1. The act of tucking in infants, which may he said to
commence before the dawn of mind. The contact of
the child's lips with the nipple is an impression of
touch conveyed inwards by the nerves of tho lips to a
ganglion in the spine, and causing a returning influence
which ooutracts the rinc of the mouth, so as closely to
embrace the nipple. Inis completes one nervous circle,
and makes one distinct act ; but it is not the only act.
The muscular contraction of the lips must be assumed
to yield a second sensation quite different from the
first, or from the sensation of contact, and capable of
letting in operation a second circle. A nerve will have
to convey this second or muscular impression to a sepa-
rate ganglion, whose outgoing threads proceed to a
different quarter — namely, to a group of muscles in the
back and breast, whose contraction swells out the chest,
exactly as is done in the act of drawing in the breath;
or we may imagine that the ganglion in question is
made to connect with the nerves that ordinarily sus-
tain the act of inspiration. This act of inspiring air,
in the present instance, causes a suction at the mouth
on pneumatic principles, the nose being made partially
close at the same time, and as part of the same reflex
act. The uupiration oi auction yieldi » third aeiua-
S22

tion, the commencing stimulus of a third circle, which
terminates in acting on a new class of muscles. These
contract the chest, and force the air through the nose,
the impress of which act is the commencement of a
repetition of circle second, or of a circle of inspiration
and suction ; and tho two processes of inspiration and
expiration thenceforth go on alternately, until they are
mode to cease by the feeling of satiety. Tiey are, in
fnct, a reinforcement of the oreathing process, coupled
with tho hold of tho nipple by the child's mouth, and
the partial stoppage of the nose during the suction.
The action is at hrst purely of tho reflex or unconscious
kind; but, at a subsequent stage of growth, it is liable
to come under the notice and control of the mind.
2. 2%e act of Swallowing. — After a morsel of food haa
been chewed under the influence of a conKioua opera-
tion, it passes to the back-part of the tongue, and into
the bag-like cavity of the phatynx; and by contact
with the surface of this cavitv, it excites a movement
of muscular contraction which forces it down the gul-
let, and it is carried along tho tube of the oesophagus
to the stomach. Tho sensation of contact in each place
of tho alimentary canal excites a contraction of that
place which forces the fond to the next ; and by a
series of reflex actions, it is conveyed through it^ whole
course. 3. The winking of th» eyes is another reflex
action, i^uite independent of our consciousness. Many
of the motions of the lower animab are also reflex, and
are to be distinguished from the instincts belonging to
these animals, which run throueh the mental life or
consciousness. The motions of insects are in a great
measure reflex, the r^ thmical regulation of them being
the only part that is under the cerebral or mental sys-
ten?. Decapitated flies execute movements of their
legs, but of an irregular kind, unlike the rythmical and
orderly motions that enable them to iraXk.

In our exposition of the proper phenomena of mind,
we shall adopt the following divisions of tho subject : —

I. The Sensations, Appetites, and Instincts, which
form au allied group, and make up a region of mind in
so far complete in itself.

II. The Intellect.

III. The Emotions.

IV. The Activities; meaning such as are of a higher
order than the Appetites and Instincts treated of in
the first division, and which connect themselvei with
the Intellect and Emotions.

SENSATIONS, APPETI^.'ES, AND INSTINCTS.

The region of Mind proper is defined or circumscribed
by the peculiarity expressed by the term Consciousness,
which is an ultimate fact that may be described and
distinguished from other facts of body or mind, but
which cannot be resolved into anything else. Its
leading property is as follows : —

It is the unity, the consolidation, or the centrali-
sation of the operationii of mind. Under it all the
threads of mental ongoings and movements are reduced
to one complex thread, whose course is indivisible.
The reflex actions may go on apart and simultaneously,
but all that are brought within the sphere of conscious-
ness are rendered mutually dependent, and reduced to
act only by turns. The unity of the conscious thread is
cV uched by the fact, that a large portion of the muscular
apparatus of the body is subservient to the operations
of the mind; and as no part can be used in two ways at
the same instant, it becomes often a matter of necessity
that these operations should take their turn instead of
acting simultaneously. There being but one great
executive apparatus for the consolidated circles of the
mind, there can be as it were but one stream of execu-
tion, or of movements requiring the use of such appa-
ratus. But the union of many circles in one great
conscious circle has the farther effect of making each
dependent on all the rest ; anything that one is ex-
cited to do ma/ be arrested if a atimulua of an opposite
tendency happena to hare been conreyed to uy other

THE HUMAN HIND.

m opposite
any other

cirola. In the iphere of the organized mbd, or of con- 1
Kio'j:..ieBi, there ii a free communication between the
•eparato centre*, which permit* of harmony or conflict,
mutual aMiilance or mutual reiiitance. If a certain
motion iB given to the armi, and if a motion ii alio
given to the eyes, and if the two are in harmony, the
coincidence is felt within the system, and the one sen-
sibly ministurs to the support of the other ; but if
(here be any incompatioility, a conflict arises, and one
must succumb : such hamionifli or conflicti are among
the class of feelings resultih' 'om the consolidation of
the mind into one thread >-. conscious operations. The
more highly a creaturo is organized, the more perfect is
this union of all the operations of the system into a
central train of operations, which enables conflicts to
be suppressed at once, and tends to cause the various
processes of life to go on in perfect harmony. The sense
of vivid mental existence depends on this great pecu-
liarity of united action in one organized train. The
fact of consciousness, and the fact of the mutual con-
nection and common understanding of all the more
important operations of the system, go together, if they
are not one and the same fact. In fine, consciousness
is mental existence. The various circles may be going
their rounds of operations; but if they impart no feeling,
the mind is not awake; the circles are disconnected, and
reduced to the mere reflex character. In the state of
unconsciousness, any one circle is unable to agitate the
whole frame to sympathise with or assist its movements;
and in this case the pains and pleasures caused by it
are for the time suspended. Such a state ai this is ex-
emplified in sleep.

The arrangement we have now described answers to
what may be called General Consciousuess, as distinct
from certain kinds of special consciousness, such as
that named reflex attention to one's self, self-conscious-
ness, and the like. The diflference is the same as be-
tween seeing and looking, or between the general vis* on
of a wide range of objects and the special or concen-
trated observation of some single object.

The three groups of Sentations, and Sensational Appe-
tile* and Instincts, make the inferior region of the true
or conscious mind. They occupy a very prominent, not
to say the predominant part of the mental life of the
great mass of the inferior animals, and are a very con-
siderable portion of the far more complicated thread of
human consciousness. Of the three classes, the Sensa-
tions are the primary phenomena, and form the starting-
point of the other two : an appetite or an instinct must
in all cases be preceded or accompanied by a sensation.
We shall therefore couuuence with the Sensations.

SENSATIONS AND ORGANS OF SENSE.

With regard to Sensations in general, it is particu-
larly of importance that we should keep in view the
fact, that a complete nervous circle is always described,
commencing witu an impression on a st^nsitive surface,
and ending for the most part in a muscular action.
The overlooking of :,his great and fundamental pro-
perty of the nervous system has rendered nearly every-
thing that has been said on the subject of Sensation
radically incomplete. A Sensation, when allowed free
scope, never fails to go through th<) entire round al-
ready detailed, although, from its beii.g eubordinated to
the general stream of mind, the latter part of the circle,
or the returning stimulus, may be forcibly arrested,
or suspended, or turned into another direction ; but
nevertheless the phenomenon essentially includes the
whole course of the completed circle. In describing
each class of sensations, we must not merely point out
the sensitive surface and the objects acting upon it,
but also the returning impulse peculiar to the class,
and the muscles or other organs that are concerned in
this responsive movement. In so doing, we shall gra-
dually become acquainted with one leading function
of the muscular apparatus of the body— namely, it!"
being used to complete the circles of the senses, and to
move to and fro the parts of the body where the sensi-
tive surface! are lodged, in ohedience to the ganglionic

stimulus awakened by the impression! of external ob>
jects on those surfaces. In general, we may say that
an act of Sensation supposes, lit, A certain object, or
influence acting upon tne body either from without or
within; 2d, A sensitive surface adapted to receive such
impressirns; 3d, A nerve whose tennioation ramifies in
the seniiitive surface, and which proceeds to a central
ganglion ; 4th, 'Che ganglion itself, which is separate
and special for each class of sensations; 6lh, The nerve
proceeding from the ganglion in the direction of the
parts excited; 6th, The muscles moved by such nervM
which are usually attached to the solid parts lodging
the sensitive surface. In regard to the collateral con-
nections of tho circle of Sensation with other circles,
there will also exist nervous communications between
the ganglion and other ganglia, whose operation may
occasionally modify the natural course of the primary
circle. Such collateral communications witn other
circles, and especially with the general current of
mind, will have to be occasionally alluded to in the
exposition of the Senses in detail.*

We are commonly said to have five Senses — Sight,
Hearing, Touch, Taste, and Sme'.l; but this enumera-
tion is now generally admitted to be incomplete. In
our present exposition we shall recognise seven different
classes of Sensations, as follows : —

Inferior or Animal Seniations, Superior or Intelkctual Smsa-
1. SenBatloni of Organic Life; tiom,

S, SenaatloDS of tho Alimentary 0, Soniations of Touch;
Canal; 6. Scnsatioiu of Hoaring;

3. SonBationsofTiuto; 7. Sensations of Sight.

4. Sonaations of Smell.

In this list we have not included the Muscular Feel-
ings, although these are a very distinct class, having
very much of the character of Sensations ; but our
reason for so doing is, that the muscles form an essen-
tial part of each sense, and fulfil other functions of a
peculiar and distinct kind, which would not be ex-
pressed by simply classing them among the senses.
They are a wholly unique part of the human system,
and must be described by themselves, and not as a
member of any group whatsoever. We shall have to
allude to the feelings arising from them in the course
of our description of the diflferent senses, of eadi of
which they form a part.

The tests of a distinct sense are distinctness of ex-
ternal object, distinctness of organ, and distinctness of
inteiiial feeling or consciousness.

1. Sensations of OrganloLlfi).
By there we understand the feelings arising from
the operations and processes for sustaining the life and
vigour of the system; such as, the assimilation of nu-
tritious matter, the removal of waste, the circulation of
the blood, the action o' (he various screting and
excreting organs and viscera. It is found that the
process essential to organic life is the formation of
cells, and the building up of all the tissues i^er
the proper fashion of each, which implies the other
processes of carrying the proper material to each part,
and removing what is superfluous and waste. Bones,
joints, muscles, nerves, mucus-membrane, skin, cellu-
lar tissue, &c, must be renewed as fast as it is con-
sumed; and the acts both of consumption and renewal,
according to the manner that they go on, give rise to a
set of feelings or conscious impressions agreeable or
otherwise. From all parts of the body there would
seem to arise a class of nerves for conveying inward
some impression of the general well or ill-being of the
animal system for the time. Such impression makea
part and parcel of the general consciousness, and of the
mental existence and happiness or unhappiness of the
individual. It may coma equally firom the whole
frame, or more intensely from some parts than from

* For a further exposition of the anatomical or phystologlcsl
character of the subjects treated In the present sheet, the reader
U refwied to the No, entitled ' Animal Physiology ' in VoL L

CHAMBEItfi'S INFORMATtON FOR THE PEOPLE.

othtn, In conMquenoe of loniB p«oull»r local Influ-
^OM. In the ewe of % general Inipreulon of one eren
character, pleaeurable or painftil, the muicular reeponie
U eeen in the general attitude of the body, which
ohimet in with the character of the priiuorjr itiniului.
In one itate the tody auuinei a lorene, placid, repoi-
ing condition, »o ai to enable the coUectiTe leniation
of the lyetem to bo more inteniely felt; in a ditlerent
■tate, the circle ii completed by a eeriei of uneaiy
luoremeuti and forced attitude!, as if to evade the
feelingi of one's own fleshly existence, or to stifle dis-
agreeable impressions. But unless the consciousness be
wholly engrossed by some other circles of operations,
the well or ill-being of the ani: lal system, as a whole, is
sure to be felt in the mind, and to carry out a par-
ticular stimulus, and impose a particular expression
upon the muscular attitude of the body. Hence all
the agents that promote or pervert the healthy action
of the system influence the consciousness through this
source. Pure air, wholesome nutriment, proper tem-
perature, a congenial electrical state, ail affect us
through this branch of our sensibility; and all disor-
ders, diseases, lacerations, wounds, perverted or exces-
■ire action of the assimilating, secreting, absorbing, or
droulating vessels or tissues, influence the mind and
the bodily attitude through the same source. When a
locality is specially aflMted, there is a muscular move-
ment imparted to the locality, such as would tend to
increase the pleasurable or diminish the painful action.
Thus a painful wound in the foot keeps up a stimulus
of .he muscles atta'.-hed to it, in the vain endeavour to
oive it a position such as would ease the sufiering; and
It is this muscular endeavour that indicates to the
mind the direction or locality of any special action of
an unusual kind in any part. We are often very much
agonized in disorders of the inward viscera, in being
unable to direct a muscular movement specially to the
part, from its being out of reach of our muscles, but
we nbvertheless are urged to keep up a stimulus on
iuch as are nearest the disordered region.

Compare<l with the bulk and mossiveness of the en-
tire body, the feelii "s of its well or ill-being are faint,
if we consider how intensely we are affected by such
■mall organs as the ear, the eye, or the nose. It seems
intended merely that we should be sufficiently aware
of our general slate of animal existence, to take an
interest in the preservation of our health and vitality,
without being wholly engrossed by caring for it. Its
sensations enter into the stream of consciousness with
a view of requiring the other circles and activities of
mind to do what is necessary for the support of life,
and for the avoidance of injurious agencies; and we
are rewarded by their agreeable character, and by the
cheerful cast they throw over our general consciousness,
when their indications have been wisely attended to in
the provisions made for our healthy subsistence.

1. Sensationsofthe Alimentary Canal.

It would seem that a special set of nerves is devoted
to receiving into the conscious train the states of the
stomach and other parts of the alimentary canal, in
addition to the nerves which give the sensations of or-
ganic life. No other internal organ or viscus afi'euts
the mind so powerfully as the stomach.

The sensations are produced by the contact of all
kinds of food, and at every stage of its passage through
the canal, in the mouth, pharynx, oesopnaguH, stomach,
and bowels. The character of the food in respect of
materials and of mechanical consistency determines
the character of the feeling ; hence the range of feel-
ings is as wide as the range of different alimentary
•obstances, but the distinction between distinct kinds
is not always very marked; the great characteristic
being, how tax it agrees with, or can be readily reduced
by, the digestive action of the stomach.

The surface of contact is the mucous surface of the

canid, which is covered with glands that secrete liquids

to combine with the food. This act of combination or

mixture gives forth an influeuce (o tho nerves which is

S2i

carried to the appropriate central ganglion. This can<
glion has not been specifically pointed out by anatomists.

The immediate response of the impression is an
action upon the general attitude and position of the
body, much in the tamo way as in the response to the
organic seiisatiouii. An agreeable stomach-feeling leads
us to adopt an easy, resting, relaxed posture, that may
permit the digestive action to have its full sweep, and
to be fully felt; whereas imperfect or obstructed diges-
tion leads to an irritable, uneasy movement, to quench
or suppress the disagreeable sensation.

In the general conaciousneu the alimentary feelingi
are very powerful, and communicate a decided cast to
the temper of tho moment. Scarcely any of the other
sensations are so influential on the pleasurable or pain-
ful, cheerful or gloomy, turn of the thoughts and emo-
tions. Some if the most horrible states of the system
are connecte<t with the stomach — as, for instance,
nausea and sea-sickness. So, on the other hand, a

good dinner is one of the most gladsome influences of
uman life. Nature has thus secured a high degree
of attention to the proper choice and timing of the
matters supplied to the alimentary system.

The Alimentary Sensations are the first steps or pri-
mary stimulus of one of the most powerful animal
appetites, and of a very large amount of the general
aims, purposes, and activity of life both in the lower
creatures and in man.

S. Taste.

This is a peculiar sense attached to the portal of the
alimentary canal, to be an additional help in discrimi-
nating what is proper to be taken as food, and an addi-
tional source of^ enjoyment in connection with the first
reception of nutritive material.

The substances used as food are more completely
distinguished by the taste than by the feelings of diges-
tion. The tastes of bodies are as widely different as is
their chemical composition. Hut in order to have a
taste, a substance must be either liquid or soluble in
the mouth. Taste is one of our principal means of dis-
criminating one material from another. There are pro-
bably many thousands of different tastes in nature.

The surface of Taste is the tongue and the overhang-
ing palate, which yield a glandular secretion to corn*
bine with the substance tasted; and the result of this
combination acts upon the gustatory nerves, and is
thence conveyed to the gustatory ganglion.

The muscular response completing the round of a
sensation of Taste, is directed to the muscles of the
mouth, jaws, and throat, and tends either to expel or
to receive more completely the substance tasted, accord-
ing to its character. If agreeable, the matter is kept
and conveyed to the stomach, in order thr.t it may bo
enjoyed to the full. Many substances unsuitable for
the alimentary canal are rejected by the ordeal of
Taste ; but not all unsuitable substances, any more
than all substances unsuitable for organic nutrition
are rejected by the alimentary feeling of the stomach.

To produce exquisite Tastes is one of the standing
endeavours of man, and constitutes the special art of
cookery, which, however, is apt to invert the order of
real importance of the three classes of wants — of
Organic Life, Digestion, and Taste.

The sensations of taste are more djstinguisha ile and
clear in the general consciousness than the sen nations
of digestion, but they have a far weaker influence upon
the total temper and enjoyment of the system.

Taste is the foundation of an appetite distinct from
the alimentary appetites, although allied with theiu;
but the craving for objects of Taste does not arise within
the system in the same periodical and imperious form
as the craving for food to the stomach.

4. Smell.
This sense is situated close by the sense of Taste,
and often co-operates with it; but properly the sense of
Smell is the guardian placed at the portal of the lungt
to test the purity of tho breamed air.

Thii can-
inatoimiti,
•ion it an
tion of the
inie to the
jeling leadf
I, that ninjr
Bwcep, and
ictfld digei-
, to quench

iiry feeling!
ded cast to
)f the other
ble or pain-
ti and erao-
the lysteni
ir initance,
ler hand, a
nfluenceB of
high degree
ning of the

itupt or pri-
rful anim:;!
the general
in the lower

portal of the
in discrinii-
vad an addi-
rith the first

completely
ngs of diges-
inerent as is
sr to have a
>r soluble in
iieans of dis-
lere are pro-

nature,
overhang-
ion to com-

suit of this
Tea, and is

round of a
scles of the
to expel or
tod, accord-
t.ter is kept

it may bo
suitable for

ordeal of

any more
ic nutrition

stomach,
he standing
>ecial art of
he order of

wants — of

isha >le and
sen jations
uence upon
m.

stinct from
with them;
arise within
erious form

of Taste,
the sense of
}f the lun^t

THE HUMAN HIND.

The objects of Smell famished by nature are innu-
merable. Their essential conditions are to be volatile,
and to have on agency of a chemical or some other
kind on the liquid secreted from the lining membrane
of the nostrils. Solid bodies cannot have a smell unless
they possess some volatile in^red'n i>( .

.he surface of the sense is a membrane lining the
complicated cavities, cells, and interior convolutions of
the nose, which niembrane is very extensive in conse-
quence of this cavernous and convoluted arrangement.
It is covered with mucous glands, which yield the liquor
that combines with the nmellino; emanations; the com-
bination producing an impression on the nerves, and
these conveying it to the olfactory ganglion situated
within the skuU above the cavities of the nose.

The returning nmscular influence that completes the
circle of a sensation of smell, bears upon the breathing
action, and upon the opening or closing of the nose.
A pleasant smell stimulates an increased inhalation of
the breath; a repulsive smell inspues a strong expira-
tion to throw out the oiTeusive matter. Animals liave
thus a timely warning of what is good or bad for the
breathing apparatus.

Smells, like tastes, arc very clear and distinguish-
able, and vc-y delicate tests for discriminating material
substances: they are therefore extremely valuable in an
intellectual point of view; but their massiveness or in-
fluence on the temper or condition of the general
consciousness is comparatively small; and only a small
portion of human labour is employed in furnishing
such of them as may be agreeable.

As giving origin to appetite, smells are more power-
ful in suggesting tastes and alimentary gratification
than on their own account.

In the lower animals, sm.lls are the first step in
manv appetites, instincts, and actions, which they do
not inspire in man. The pursuit of prey, and the desire
for the opposite sex, are in many instances initiated by
sensations of smell.

0. Tonch.

This we rank as the first of the higher or intellectual
lenses: it being not merely a knowledge-giving sense,
as all the senses are, but a means of forming the higher
combinations nhich are the instrumentality of intellect.

The great difference between the lower and. higher
senses is, that the sensations of the higher are distinctly
recognised as made up of separate parts lying in diflfe-
rent directions, and indicating that the object in contact
with the surface of sense is spread over space, and has
distinguishable portions that may be noticed separately,
and lead to a separate muscular response. The feeling
of Taste or Smel\ gives no indication of direction or sur-
face, or of the external position, or even the external
existence of its cause: the muscular response can have
respect only to the sensitive surface as a whole, there
being no discrimination between one portion and an-
other. But in Touch, each separate point sends in its
separate sensation, which may bring out a separate
muscular response, and a distinct act of attention from
the mind at large. The higher sensations have there-
fore form, shape, and distinctness of parts, and clearly
indicate extension in space by requiring the muscular
organs of response to travel across the objects from one
point to another. Hence in them each nervous thread
must have an independent ganglionic centre, and an
independent connection with the responding muscles.
The lower sensations, on the other nand, are, if we
may so speak, shapeless and inarticulate.

The surface of Tour'i is the skin, which is unequally
endowed with sensitiveness; being most sensitive at the
tips of the fingers, and on the lips and tongue; and
least so in the hollow of the back. The test of this
quality is the nearest distance of two distinguishable
points. On the hollow of the back, the points of a
compass three inches apart give only one sensation: on
the tip of the finger, two points distant by a very small
fraction of an icdi are recognised is distinct.
The kind of action on the touch ing surface is essen-

tially mechanical pressure, or compression of the ports.
This pressure afl'ccts the imbedded nervous fibres, and
stimulates In them the influence that they carry to the
nervous centre of touch. The pressure mav be of few
points or of many; it may be gentle or heavy, and
accompanied more or less with adhesiveness, as in
clammy substances: the pattern of the surface or of
its pressing-points may be various without end ; and
lastly, there may be movement or friction in innumer-
able degrees and modes; from all which we see the
sources of the variety of influences, and the consequent
variety of pouible sensations.

The ganglion or central seat of Touch has not been
completely ascertained, but has been conjectured to
be a certain portion of the base of the brain called by
anatomists the Thalamu* Optiaut.

The out-going nerves lead to the muscles of the
organ touched, and the usual responsive action is to

grasp the object in contact; or \i it be of a repulsive
kind, to relax the grasp, and withdraw from it.

The qualities of body made known by Touch are such
as hardness, roughness, solidity; and in combination
with the muscular movements that complete the ner-
vous circle, it gives us the sensations of extent of sur-
face, size, and shape. Each muscular position assumed
by the touching organs gives a distinct feeling, and a
series of muscular positions makes up one characteristic
complex feeling. The muscular part of this sense also
gives the feelings of force, strength, and resistance, as
well as of physical contact.

The sensations of Touch are the starting-points, and
the source of guidance to a large proportion of bodily
movements, instructive, habitual, and voluntary, as in
many of the manual and mechanical operations.

In the current of the general consciousness, these
sensations ore of great importance.

Sensations of Heat.

These are so very distinct and peculiar, that they
have been sometimes considered as an independent
class: but there are reasons for believing that they are
only a variety of Touch, They are felt by the surface
appropriated to Touch, and conveyed by the touching
nerves; and the chief action of heat on any body is the
mechanical eflfect of expansion; or its opposite, con-
traction. None of the ordinary sensations of Touch,
however, give so powerful a feeling or so energetic ft
stimulus as heat. The response to an agreeable warmth
is to keep up the exposure of the part heated.

Heat and cold in the internal parts of the body be-
come mixed in their eflfect with the organic feelings
and processes, on which they have a very powerful in-
fluence. The formation of new cells, the oxidation of
the tissues, the secretions and excretions, are all stimu-
lated and controlled by temperature, and the sensation
of temperature comes to be felt through these. On the
whole, in proportion to the influence of heat on the
system, is the effect of the feeling it gives on the gene-
ral consciousness, and the craving or appetite founded
upon it; and likewise the exertions of human life that
are set agoing on its account.

The feeling of warmth combines, with the other sen-
sations of Touch, in discriminating the surf&.es of
bodies and their qualities.

6. Sensations of Bearing.

This sense is more special and local than Touch, but
agrees with it in being a mechanical sense, as distin-
guished from the chemical senses of Taste and Smell.

The action in the case of hearing is a very refined
case of touch, being the pressure of a liquid on an ex-
panded membrane of great delicacy, into which the
nerves of hearing ramify.

The ear consists of three cavities: the outer cavity is
open to the air and closed within by a tight membrane,
or drumhead, which is the outer wall of the second or
middle cavity: in this middle cavity is contained a
crooked line of connected boues, one end of the line
being lodged in the drum, and Uie other end on a hole

325

CHAMBERS'S IMfORIUTIOir FOB THE PEOPLE.

in tha Inmott nriij, okIImI th« Ikbjrrinth. Th« Ubjr.
tinth l( fill«d with liquid, uid oonUini m tmKuUr
■tniotun of bout d«icrib«d m cnnaiitinK of • cockle-
■hall, and three MiniclrculM uMiali; on the Inner lur-
fluw of theie bonei the nerrni »re ipreod out. The
TlbnUione of tound itriko the drum of the ear; the
inorenienti of the drum are communicated to the borkei
of the middle «»r, and br them communicated ni Tibra-
tioni to the liquid of the inner ear, which preieei on
the nervo iurfaoe with more or left force, according ae
it ii acted on by the bone in contact with it.

The iiupreHiuni are carried in to an auditory ganglion,
and the reipouiire nioTementi are made by meaiii of
four muiclee attached to the bonei of tho middle oar,
whoM action either tlKhteni or ilaclient the drumhead
or membrane: when a found '■ aa^reeable, the membrane
ii tightened to receire it more dlitinctly; when dii-
agfraeable, the oppoiite happene, according to tho niual
law of the reiponiiTe action of the lonioi.

Tha leniationi of Sound differ according to the cha-
notar of the Tibratloni producing thei.i, and theie,
again, according to the character of the Bounding body,
wnoM nature i« thue diicriminatod by the senBatioui
to which it giTCi birth, Tho vibrutione may be strong
or weak, rapid or ilow (which ia the chief diitinction
of muiioal lound*), regular or irregular, in a tinila or
in many itraamf, and of a character Tarying witn the
■ubatance producing them, which onablei ui to tell
whether a iound proceed* from wood, stone, metal, &c.
The liquid of the inner ear takes on a ditferont move-
ment and pressure from all these differences. More-
over, by means of the muscular part of the car, we are
made aware of the direction of the sound in a rough,
and not very accurate way: the responsive action tends
to stretch the drum in opposition to the source of the
sound. I'he muscles are also affected by the greater
or less strength of the sound, and by its variations of
force, which require in them a variation of the adjust-
ment. Moreover, the volume or expanse of sound has
an effect on tha muscular sensations of tho organ, by
causing a kind of broad sweep to be given to the direct-
ing bones, to take in the entire compass of the action.
This broad sweep ia in hearing, as m sight, the cause
of a Tei7 powerful sensation : the roaring of the sea,
the ravarberations of thunder, and the firing of artil-
lery, are examplaa of tha object* that bring it into
action.

Tha lanaation* of Sound are a* numerous as the
character, forms, size*, and circumstances of sounding
bodies, and are the medium of a vorv large amount of
our knowledge of external things. They are the sourer
of a vast extent of pleasure when wrought into music ;
and in the art of speech they exercise a very wide and
manifold influence on the intercourse of men, and on
tha operations of the human mind.

As in Touch, the sensations of Hearing are resolvable
into distineuisbable portions, or have fonn and sfa&pe.
They are also the starting-points of ini, , .lerablc other
circles of mind — instinctive, habitual, T'4uuta>y, in-
tellectual, and emotional.

7. Sight.

Thia is undoubtadly thb kiehest, most refined, and
most perfect of the senses. The agent concerned in
it, Lignt, is the subtlest and most exquisite power in
nature: it has no mechanical momentum, but it
■eems to have the power of operating a very delicate
clasi of changes upon material bodies, which changes
ore known to us only through itself, as in the processes
of copving objects by the solar ray. The precise action
of light on the surface of sense in the eye, cannot in
tha present state of our knowled^ be described.

The surface of Sight is roost pni''<>ahly the black screen
in tha back of the eye which wr »e shining through
tha hola of tha pupil; on this black screen the nerre
if spread out, to be affected by whatever changes lifht
oausaa in tha absorbent black aurface.

Tha impretsion* are conveyed by a thick nervous
ootd to the optio lobe* of tha brain, aad the immediate

response is diraotad to tha six rautoles that mora the
eyeball, and turn it on every side to (Wca the quarter
of the rays of light. These muscles have the usual
function of tightening up and adapting the organ to
confront agreeable radiation ; while for disagreeable
sensation* there is the additional apparatus of tho rye-
lids, which, by a reflex action, screen the eye from a
painful impression. The eyeball itself is oaiontially
an optio lens. (See Nos. U and III.)

The sensation* of Sight correapond with the infinitely
variou* character of luininou* ainanationi, a* deter-
mined by the surfaces they come from. Tho sun's
light falling on bodies i* reflected from each in a modi-
fied form dependent on the texture of tho surface, and
tho sensations resulting are to us one means of distin-
guishing surfaces. The recognised varieties of light,
OS ascertained by our sensations, are chiefly intensity
and colour, both of which are subject to innumerable
shades of difference, according to the variety of tho
material substances presented by nature.

The muscular portion of the eye elves the *en*e of
direction more accurately and decidedly than either
hearing or touch. The adjustment of the eye to points
of objects (the discrimination of which i* exceedingly
close) by the muscles, yields a most accurate estimate
of their direction, such as the other moving organs can
proceed upon in making for such points. The change
of the ball from confronting one point to fixing it on
another, gives the feeling of length in space; and the
traversing of an area in all directions gives the muscular
feeling of surface and expansion. There aro certain
muscular adjustments adapted to the distance of the
object, and from these arise the feeling of distance
from the eve ; and when this is combbied with tho
former, we have the feeling of cubical space. When
the colours and shades of bodies unite their sensations
with the muscular feelings of expanse and distance,
we derive the feelings and notions of solid bodies.
Professor Wheataune has ahown that the impression of
solid shapes results more particularly from the com-
bined image* of the two eyes, which, as it were, take a
grasp of an object by two faces, and thereby become
sensible of its cubical form.

The pleasures of Sight are numerous and intense,
and many of the fine arta have reference to them alone.
Its share in the intellectual functions, and in the guid-
ance of human life, predominates over all the other
senses. Its impression* are more durable and more
eaiily revived after the object ha* disappeared than in
the case of any other class of impressions, and henco
their importance to the intellect, which deals largely
in the shade* or remnant* of departed aensationi.

MuBonlor Feolinga.

Muscularity being not a *enae, but a portion of the
circle of each >{ the proper senses, its peculiar feelings
must, as we !kave seen, enter into all sensations. We
shall now a.iudo to these feelings apart from their
connections with the senses. The muscular system is
the essential instrument of all thought, emotion, and
itctivity, and the great link of couuection between any
one nervous circle and another.

The muscle* are subject to many states. They may
be tense or relaxed ; they may move rapidly or slowly,
continuously or interruptedly, rythmically or irregu-
larly ; and each state has its own separate feelings.
Tb«<\ also yield great differences of feeling according
tn (.he degree of vigour or weariness that mav belong to
ih«m. .^8 they constitute a very large mass of the liuman
svKem, their mere animal changes of nutritior., exer-
cise, and exhaustion, give forth strong impressions to the
general consciousness. In this respect muscular states
have nearly a* great an influence as alimentary states.

There is an extensive adaptation of the machinery
and orrangements of life for the express object uf meet-
ing the wants and capacities of the muscular system — ■
such as furniture, carriages, walks, sports, gyniuoatica,
&c. It u needless to add that it is our only mean* of
acting mechanically on the external world.

THIS IIUMAK MIND.

Tti« prominmt fMltnp knit notiont dtrired from it
nr* thoM of foret, powtr, mii/ht, tntrgy, or ruitlanee :
alio the f*oUii(( of motion u % propertjr of nmttiir, of
•pM« M the flvld for motion, and of time' m ninrkud
out by motion through ipnce. All theie feelii>Ki the
rouiculBr ivitem contributH to our three higher lentei
— Touch, Hearing, and Sight.

When a leniation ii followed up by an initinctire
or other action, the tnuicular part of the foniation yield*
the impreiiion that wukeni up the notion : ur a mui-
cular loniiition ii the link between one act and another
overywhere throughout the lystem,

API'ETITGM.

Thew are peculiar and diitinct itatoe of mind allied
to the Seniationi, but inrolring in addition lome of
the other active circlet. When a leniatiou ii of that
uneaiy character that ii not latiafled by the nroper
niuicular reiponie, but niaintaini in the general con-
iciouineti an irritable unreiting itate, lo a« not to
allow the mind to go on calmly, unloM lomething hai
fint been done for the relief of thu locality affected,
the action ii called an Appetite or craving. Such
craving! generally imply that there ii a want or defi-
ciency in the part they ariio from.

The animal lyatem worki to t: great extent on the
principle of alternation of itatcx. Each organ usually
paftea through aucceitire condition! — such oi nutrition,
ozerciie, and repoie — and it manifeit! a craving for
each in their turn: if thie craving ii gratified imme-
diately, appetite it swallowed up in satisfaction or
contentment ; if not, the general consciousness is dis-
agreeably acted on by the irritation of the neglected
organ, and the powers of body and mind ore, as it
were, importuned till the want is allayed.

Each class of sensations contains among its number
sensations of appetite; indeid the whole oi tho so-cnlled
disagreeable sensations may be considered of this kind.
The sensations of organic life become cravings when
the system is not in good working order, or is refused
iti proper alternations of treatment. Thirst is perhaps
one of the most intense of this class. The wants of
digestion yield the well-known appetite of hunger: it
and thirst being the most powerful cravings of tho
BTstem. Taste and hiuoII dn not readily yield appetites
that are the cnn'^^ , ut^nces "i' wants periodically growing
up in the orj;,^ii,. . but when they ore roused by an
agreeable < nu*.?, they put forth a craving for its con-
tuiuance :^! \- 'ho point of satiety. There are many
other aMw^tw- that are only roused by a present
Btimului, !t Iving with them 'out of sight out of
mind.' Tb« uppetite of sex originates within the body
like >iunger, but its strength of craving depends very
muc-h on the presence of external stimuli; and hunger
itw>1f may be increased by such means, as in the pre-
sence of an abundant and dainty meal. Thu appetites
of the muscular sense, which are alternately for exer-
cise, rest, and nutrition, are next in strength to hunger.
The appetite for sleep arises within the nervous and
muscular system. The higher senses have but moderate
cravings, these being chiefly for the alternation of stimu-
lus and rest : the eye, when fresh and strong, craves
for light, and the car desires sounds; when wearied,
they seek to be withdrawn from such influences.

When a diseased state comes over any of the organs,
the craving thence arising differs from ordinary appetites
in not suggesting the means of relief. But this diffe-
rence is only apparent, for the appetites do not gene-
rally of themselveu point out what is required to satisfy
them; either experience, inBtruction,or a special instinct
is needed for this purpose; the exceptions are such
cases as sleep, and the cravings for activity and repose.

The Appetites are largely involved in human enjoy-
ment, and are stimuli to human thought and activity.
In proportion to their strength, the frequency of their
Ncurrenoe, and their capacity of being gratified, is
tkeir influence on the general stream of consciousness.
The Denrei (lubiequently treated) differ from theAppe-
titei only in bringing the intellect more fully into play.

tNSTINCn.

These belong to the special means of action that each
animal posMsw* for accomplishing its rarious works,
and fulhlling the ends of its existence. They are tha
untaught activities and capucitioii of the aniiuul nature.
When wo keep out of view tho rellex actiuna, which
have been commonly cloiaod with instincts, the lit-
stincts in man are such as these: —

Firat, A largi< claas are referable to the ton<Iency of
the system at largo to accord or fall in witli the state
of anv one part, A sudden stroke of pain produces
firat by a rotlex movement, or rather )>y the natural
courae and completion of a aensational • irole, n retriMv
tation of tho injured )>art; and next n general com-
motion of tho body at large, a cry of agony, and »
general convulsion of limb and feature. This extension
of the attitude of a part to the whole is to bo culled
instinctive, and it ia effected under a general law of
the muacular and mental ayatem, by which there is a
constant tendency to unity of poaitiou and state over
tho whole. Hapid movemonta of tho limba produce
like movementa in the exclainationa, looka, features,
gestures, and even in the very thinking proceaiea. By
thia principle it is that the body follows the lead of
the eyes in walking or taking an aim.

Walking; may bo reckoned an instinctive action,
although It takes a little practice to be perfect in it.
The motion that it involves — namely, an alternate
swing of the legs — is natural and spontaneous from the
earliest period of infant life. This exemplifies another
general property of the muacular and nervous system,
which is the principle of alternate imtion$. The mem-
bers that are in pairs tend to move by turns in con-
sequence of an express organisation suited to that
effect. The eves are an exception to this liiw, A third
character of the musculAr constitution is the power of
verviieular motion, or the tendency, where there is a
succession of members, for a movement to pass from
one to another through the whole system. The pro-
gressive motion of worms, and the action of the ali-
mentary canal, take place under this principle; but it
alio acts in the progreaaion of quadrupeds, and in the
climbing action of man and other animals.

But the most strongly-marked description of instincts
are such as seem to proceed upon an innato knowledge
of what is usually learnt by experience itlonc. This is
exemplified in the action of the senses of taste and
smell, when thoy enable us to decide upon what is
good for the alimentary canal in the first place, and
for tho organic system in the second place, as in the
choice and rejection of food. A still more surprising
anticipation is in such a case as when an aquatic bird
knows water by the sight before it has ever oeen in it.
The migrations of birds show the same characteristic
of preordained kuowledjiu : a certain sensation tells
them which is the direction of the warm regions of the
earth, just as men know it by the mid-day sun, or by a
weathercock. !Manr animals are supposed to excel the
human species in their pre-established connection be-
tween the sensations of smell and taste and the whole-
someness of the food of which thoy should partake.

The elaborate constructiveness of many animals —
such as the bee, the beaver, and the nest-building birds
— is a still higher stretch of instinctive or preordained
power; although probably, when better studied, these
operations will come under simple laws, such as hare
been alluded to above.

A circle of Instinct is usually secondary, or in suc-
cession to a circle of Sensation. The muscular feeling
that terminates a sensation is the first step in on In-
stinctive circle; and if there be several successive
movements, the feeling of the last muscular position
in one movement is made to stimulate the ganglion
which sets on the second. Thus, in walking, the feel-
ing coming from the muscles of the right leg, at its full
forward position, is conveyed to the ganglion that sends
out the stimulus to the progressive muscles of the left
leg, which is moved forward accordingly.

327

CHAMBERS'S QIFORHATION FOS THE PEOPLE.

There are certain of our judgments and beliefs tliat
are usually considered as Instinctive; but these require
to be taken up subsequently among a higher class of
Activities. VVe here close the group of Sensations, and
their idlied Appetites and Instincts.

THE INTEtLECT.

The products arising from the action of the powers
of the Intellect upon the Sensations, Appetites, and
Instincts, or upon the more simple circles of mind,
are very numerous and varied, and might be exempli-
fied by all the arts, sciences, and organisation of human
life, and by what is meant by such terms as Under-
standing, Reason, Judgment, Abstraction, Memory,
Imagination, Invention, and the like.

The first property or law of mind upon which Intel-
lect is based, is a property that seems to adhere to the
inferior circles as such, and therefore we do not state it
as one of the laws of Intellect proper. It is the law of
the permanency, endurance, uud coherence of sensa-
tional states. When a surface of sense is impressed by
an object, and the influence transmitted to the central
t ganglion, from which the responsive action proceeds
outward to the connected muscles, we find that the
impression once made continues for some time more
or less after the object is withdrawn ; the sensitive
surface, the nerves, the ganglia, and the muscles, all
retain for a short period the state which they have once
been made to assume ; or the circulation of influence
perseveres in the absence of what set it on. We find
also that the effect of each stimulus is to leave behind
it on the circle a certain bent or susceptibility to the
same stimulus at another time. If the same sensation
be repeated, the sensitive surface will take it on more
readily, the nerve will convey it with more alacrity,
and the responsive muscles will be found more vigo-
rous and alert in the execution of their function. Tliis
is one of nature's laws of the growth and development
of our capacities of sensation and instinctive action :
it is the principle that enables us to acquire a com-
mand of our senses and instinctive movements; the
efforts of attention by the eye or the car, and the alter-
nate movement of the limbs, although provided for by
the original organisation, are not perfect until they
have been familiarised by practice and repetition with
the operations that have to be gone through. The law
in question is therefore one of nature's regulations for
the growth and maturity of the system ; and it con-
tinues through life, although most vigorous in its
workings during early years. It might be called the
Law of Sensational growth.

The laws of Intellect proper make a very decided
advance beyond this. Instead of simply hardening or
confirming the current of each sensation in its own
circle, they bind separate sensations to each other, and
build up complicated masses of sensation and activity,
which may not merely be more easily revived by the
repetition of the first impressions, but which may be
revived without employing the original in any shape,
so that we may live in a world of the most varied sen-
sation while none of the objects of sensation act upon
us at all, and may be affected by impressions recovered
from the repositories of the mind more powerfully than
by any action direct from nature without.

The First Law of Intellect, properly so called, has
been termed by psychologists

TUB LAW OF CONTIOUITT.

Two or more sensations, impressions, actions, or states
of feeling, existing together or in close succession, tend
to cohere, so that the future occurrence of any one of
them is suflicient to restore or revive the others.

As we have at least seven senses, and as each of
these may be stinmlated by a successive stream of dis-
tinct sensations, and as we have also appetites and
instincts, besides higher emotions and activities, and
since we are ever in the presence of a world that sheds
innumerable influences upon these varied susueptibi-
328

lities, it is obvious that the stream of general conseiong-
ness, or of the waking mind, must be a highly-compli-
cated train of movements. In this state of things the
law of continuity comes into play, and determines that
the impressions, feelings, and movements that have
run together for a certain leiigth of time, or have been
repeated sufiiciently often, shall so cohere, that when
one is roused by its outward or inward object, the
others shall be manifested along with it, independ-
ently of their original stimulus. If we take, for ex-
ample, a concurrence of two sensations, one of sound,
and the other of sight, as the sound and the sight of
rushing water — after a sufficient length of time the two
impressions so grow together, and are so cemented by
an operation going on within the mind, that the one
may at any time recall the other : if we hear the noise
while the object is concealed, the visible picture starts
up nearly as if we were looking at the reality. The
law of contiguity develops, as it were, within the mind
a power of bringing before it the same impressions as
are ordinarily given by the agents without. SVe may
thus have visible pictures, and audible and tangible
impressions, and their completed circles, without the
presence of sights, sounds, or contacts; and these im-
pressions may be the first link in raising into action
subsequent circles of appetite, instinct, or other acti-
vity, thought, or emotion. We shall now briefly state
a few of the general results of this law; to develop
them fully would far exceed our limits : —

1. The impressions of natural objects (which gene-
rally excite several senses at once) are compacted into
Avholes. Thus many things in nature may affect sight,
hearing, touch, taste, and smell, and, it may be, the
alimentary and organic feelings in addition ; and by
repeatedly experiencing these conjoined impressions,
we come to form a complex impression or aggregate
notion of the entire object. Thus our mental impres-
sion, what we call our idea or knowledge, of an orange-,
is an aggregate impression of this sort cemented by the
force ofcontiguous association.

Many impressions that we are apt to reckon an
single or simple sensations, have, in fact, been com-
pounded by this associating force. Thus our impres-
sion of the round aspect of an orange is a complex
impression of sight and muscularity ; the visible pictuie
being an aggregate of visible points, and the expante
and roundness being the result of the repeated sweep
of the eyeballs over its area, which result is itself a
complicated tracing of muscular sensations; and the
combination of these with the visible aggregate mak* s
the total impression of visible fonn.

Many natural objects, such as the human body, are
permanently made up of a great many parts, each re-
quiring separate acts of attention, and yielding sepa-
rate sensations. The fixing of these altogether in one
total impression is the effect of contiguity.

*2. Besides the conjunction of parts in the same ob-
ject, we also find that nature has in many cases coupled
distinct objects together by some of those powers of
distant influence which prevail in the world. Thus a
warm latitude is coupled with rich vegetation, and a
sea-coast with a moist and temperate character of cli-
mate. The tides coincide with the positions of the
moon, and the migrations of birds with the changes of
the seasons. These conjunctions are laws or ordinances
of nature, and become impressed on the human mind
by the association of contiguity,

3. The accidental juxtapositions that occur around
us, or those conjunctions that may happen from any
cause, and that continue in virtue of the inertness of
matter, impress themselves in the same way. Thus it
is that we carry about with us the picture and arrange-
ment of our own homes, and of the localities where we
have often been; we associate house with house, and
street with street, and have in our minds a connected
view of each prospect, large or small, that has been
frequently before us. In snort, all the fixed arrange-
ments around us, and the local and geographical aggre-
gates with which we have become conversant, become

THE HUMAN MIND.

imprei-
compleic
ible picture
ezpante
ated sweep
itself a
and the
rate niakts

around
from any
ertiiesB of
Thus it
, arrange-
where we
Duso, and
connected
has been
arraiige-
al aggre-
, bevoiUQ

pennancntlj fixed in our conceptions, exactly as they
stand in nature.

4. The whole class of regularly-recurring successions,
including cause and effect, as the most invariable of all
successions, are stamped in the mind by the same force.

5. The addition of names to objects for the couve-
niences of intercommunication and reference, is ren-
dered permanent by the operation of contiguity. After
a certain number of repetitions of the word *moun,'
whiic attention is fixed on the object, the two im-
pressions come to cohere, and are thenceforth able
mutually to recall each other. The acquisition both
of our mother tongus and of foreign languages is there-
fore a consequence of this adhesive force. In like man-
ner the fixing of connected series of words — that is,
of narrations, statements, assertions, and literary com-
positions — or what is usually called ' a verbal memory,'
depends on the same law.

6. All the steps of a connected procedure in the arts,
professions, and occupations of life, are joined together
after the proper degree o'' repetition, under this associat-
ing principle; and many other examples might be given.
The time or the number of repetitions necessary for
a full adhesion to take place, depends on the power of
adhesiveness peculiar to each individual, and on the
freshness and freedom from distraction of the mind at
the time, as well as on the imprassivcness of the ob-
jects. The force of contiguity is most energetic in
early life, and seems identified with the vigour of growth
of the system. It may be called the Law of Intellectual
growth, since we have railed the fixing of Sensations
and Instincts the force of sensational growth.

LAW OF SIHILARIir,

Any present impression or state of mind tends to
revive previous impressions that resemble it.

This law takes a very difierent sweep from the pre-
ceding. If tl'e operation of contiguity has formed in
the mind some great aggregate impression that has a
distinct character and form, and if at any future time
a new impression is made resembling it in one or more
points, there is a tendency for the present to revive the
past, and for both to flash iugether into one, so that
the new image will receive all the particulars that the
old can add to it, and will be saved the trouble of ac-
quiring these afresh. If we suppose a person to see a
ship for the first time, and to examine minutely all the
peculiarities of its structure, within and without, and
to dwell upon them so long that the aggregate picture
of the ship clings together in his head, and can be re-
vived entire when any part is brought before his view;
and if after this he observe at a distance the outward
form of a second ship, this by similarity will recall the
already-formed picture of the first with all its details;
and without having the means >' fully examining the
second, he can transfer to it at once the particulars of
the other, and thus supply a knowledge of what is
hidden from the eye. As nature has produced many
repetitions of the same objects and forms, it is a vast
economy of human labour to be able to know an entire
class through a single individual thoroughly studied ;
and the application of what is known ana conceived of
one thing to all others like it, is effected through the
power we are now considering. When objects are not
perfectly identical, we have still the advantage of the
similarity as far as it goes; and for each new indivi-
dual, we need only to learn what is its difference from
some one previously known, iii order to possess a full
acquaintance with it. We shall now adduce a few
examples of this law: —

I. The extension of old sensations to new objects.
We have seen that it is a work of time and growth to
acquire the engrained sensation or aggregate notion of
any one natural object — such as au orange, a tree, a
house, a man. The mere round form of an orange re-
quires a considerable amount of muscular experience
often repeated ; but when this form has been completely
mastered, it is then easy to acquire the notion of the
round form of any o^her round object. Being once exer-

cised in the notion of roundnesi on some one individual
case, we find it easy to fall into the impression in any
other case: the old state is set on by the new contact.
So with any other form, as of a tree, or of a plan of a
country, or with any other sensation whatsoever. No
matter although the already-acquired sensation is ac-
companied in the new instances with a different class
of other sensations in the aggregate picture; it is the
peculiarity of this intellectual iotce to break through
unlike accompaniments, and still make like flow to
like. The exercise of acquiring the sensation of round-
ness from au orange will serve us in acquiring the im-
pression of an apple, or a plum, or a cannon-ball; and
for each new case the labour of attention will be needed
only for the new circumstances of colour, size, and
modifications of the round form. So in the case of
hearing: when tht <^ar Ll? been repeatedly exercised in
a set of sounds, as in the words of a language or the
notes of an instrument, it falls into or recognises them
again under new combinations, as when repeated by a
different voice or instrument.

2. The word idenlifieatUm expresses a large class of
the operations of similarity. We identify a portrait
with its original, the common features in a family, the
sameness in character in the scenery of a country or in
the aspect of a population, the institutions of different
nations, the events of remote ages, the characters of dif-
ferent individuals — all by the force of this law. There
are great inequalities in men's powers in this respect:
in some, the differences in a few of the particulars
serve completely to obstruct the perception of simi-
larity, so that in many instances no recog><ition of the
past in the present takes place, even thcugh a real
likeness obtains between them. An incapacity in
tracing likenesses on this principle is the very essence
of intellectual imbecility and weakness ; and on the
other hand, a high facility in recovering all past im-
pressions that contain anything in common with some
present impression, is the main foundation of all high
intellectual power, capacity, originality, invention, and
genius. The peculiar species of the capacity will de-
pend on the other points of character ; but the main
absolute force of it resides in the perception of like-
nesses, and the revival of tho past by the force of simi-
larity. To the extent that we are unable to bring up
past acquisitions of mind to serve present emergencies,
we lose all the advantagea>of nature's repeating herself
in many circumstances, and have to undergo fresh
labour for every individual case.

The identification of the identical phenomena of
nature often demands an intense power of similarity,
owing to the repulsion of unlike circumstances. Thus
the man that identified the attachment of the moon to
the earth with the fall of a stoue, will be reckoned
through all time to have been a very extraordinary
genius; ordinary minds would not have traced anything
common in appearances which to the superficial eye are
so utterly unlike. The identification of lightning with
the spark of an electrical machine is another example
of the same uncommon force of intellectual perception.
Thus the inductions and generalisations of science are
in the main the consequence of great stretches of the
power of similarity.

3. In literary efforts there is abundant scope for
tracing the operations of the same power. A great
part of the formation and growth of language lies in
applying old names and expressions to new objects, in
consequence of a felt identity or likeness between the
things. Thus the word ' head,' primarily applying to
a part of the human frame, has come to be used in
reference to innumerable other things quite different,
but having all some one feature in common with the
human head; as the ' head of a house,' the ' head of a
mob,' the ' heads of a discourse.' The great class of
expressions called 'metaphors' are struck out on the
same principle, and are produced most abundantly by
the men that possess an intense power of bringing to-
gether like in the midst of unlike.
4. The tracing out of unity, consistency, harmony,

S29

CHAMSfiRfi'S ndfOltMAtlOK IfOtl TfiE tmtt&.

and uniformity, in a man of raried thing! and circum-
■tancM, ia a direct effort of airailarity.

fi. The application of general laws and nilei to indi-
Tidual caies, and deductive reasoning, in general de-
mand! the aame effort : it is only in virtue of gimilarity
of !ubject that a lair or rule can be transferred from
one case to another.

In every high operation of intellect and genius thi!
power i! requisite. Contiguity leads to routine, and
to the arranging of things as they happen to be in na-
ture by mere juxtaposition; similarity breaks through
juxtaposition, and brings together like objects from all
qnarters. It is by far the grandest manifestation of
tne human mind; it enables us to rise to the unity,
simplicity, and comprehensivenesa of plan that regu-
lates the complicacy of the worfd's arrangements and
movements, and lessens to an unlimited degree the
toU attendant on man's situation in the universe.

LAW OP COMPOUND ASSOCIATION.

Impressions, notions, or thoughts, may be recalled
more easily by being associated with two or more
impressions or objects present to the mind at the time,
whMher by contiguity or similarity.

The two forces of contiguity and similarity express
all the powers that nature appearr to employ in main-
taining the operations of the hitman intellect ; but
there are certain peculiar cases of their working that
deserve to be specified as separate, although dependent
laws. One of these is the case now supposed. When
there are present to our minds two impressions, ideas,
or pictures, each associated, either by contiguity or
similarity, with some third state that is past and out
of mind at the time, the compound action is more
effective than either action by itself; that is, the sepa-
rate bonda might be too weak to revive the past object,
but acting together they succeed.

A common example ia funiished by such a case as
our endeavouring to remember something said or done
on some past occasion, whose other circumstances are
distinctly before us. The bond of contiguity not having
been strong enough to connect the remembered circum-
stances with what is sought, we foil in the attempt;
but should anything cross our minds having some alight
resemblance to the matter in question (perhaps too
slight to have revived it of itself), the faint contiguity,
joined to the faint similarity, effects the revival of the
recollection that we were struggling for. So two con-
tiguities or two similarities will always be more power-
ful than one. Namea that we have both read and
heard, or that have been associated both with a book
and a speaker, are most easily revived when both book
and speaker are in our view. A complex scene may
be -evived effectually if there are present to us several
representatives or resemblances to it in several aspects.

LAW OP CONSTRUCTIVE ASSOCIATION.

The mind has the power, by means of association, to
form or construct aggregate impressions of things, cx-
actlv as if they were derived directly from the outer
world acting tlirough the aenies.

We have hitherto referi'ed to the revival of noit
impressiona of objects, exactly as they were formed by
the action of the originals on the senses and intellect;
but ''.,\a does not exbauat the range of the intellect's
j/owers. It is possible to form a picture of what has
never been experienced, to all intenta and purposes the
same as the pictures of actual experience; and the
effecting of this ia what we denominate ' constructive
aasociation.' To take a simple example : —

Suppose we see a building formed of brick, and de-
sire to judge the effect which it would have if com-
posed of marble, we require to con!truc>; a new con-
ception, where form and outline !hall be derived from
What i! before us, and aubatance and colour from our
notion! of marble. The effort ia one coming under
the claaa we are now coniidering, and i! within the
power of an ordinanr intellect. A !till more easy
effort, howerer, would be to conceire a known building
330

tranaferred fh>m its actual site to Bome other site, also
clearly conceived, and to form the complex conception
of the scene so compoaed. By a little exertion, we
couid impreaa on our minda the picture of the aup-
posed combination exactly as if it had been a real scene
that we had long and familiarly known. The power
of contiguity would suffice to make a coalescence of
the imagined ingredients as well as of actual ccmbina-
tions. Such instances of the mere addition or substi-
tution of a new ingredient in an aggregate found in
actual life, are among the simplest and easiest efforts
of the faculty in question.

The difficulty of the process increases with the com-
plexity of the combination. Should we desire to realise
to ourselves a town on the site of London, with the
streets planned on a different scheme, such aa that

E reposed by Sir Christopher Wren, and the houses all
uilt of red sandstone, and the inhabitants dresaed in
the Oriental costume, wn should find a prolonged and
energetic effort necessary; and very few people would
ever succeed in realising the combination with the
same clearness and steadiness as if they had actually
lived for some time in a place so made up. It is,
nevertheless, within the power of the human mind to
do so. By conceiving as yividly as one is able each of
the particulars in turn, and by going over the whole
again and again, they would et last aggregate them-
selves into a single whole, which might be retained
and repeated in the view till it held together as a
coherent picture. Such an exercise is perhaps one of
the rarest that is ever attempted by the mass of man-
kind, who have in general no adequate estimate of the
amount of undeveloped capacity lying in human nature.

One of the commoneat classes of cases under this
law, is the case when some object in nature is repre-
sented by one of the imitative arts, and when we
resolve the representation into a reality by adding from
our experience of realities what is deficient. Thus if
we endeavour from a dead statue to conceive a living
man, we must endeavour to bring together the concep-
tion of the statue and the conception of true flesh, and
of the actual colour and aspect of life, and maintain
the two conceptions in our view till they fall into one,
and become to us the picture of a living human being
having the shape and expression of the statue. This
would be reckoned an exceedingly difficult effort — the
difficulty arising partly from feeolcness of faculty, and
partly from want of exercise end cultivation. Men of
superior minds, or who have made this a study, would
perform the operation with ease.

To realise a person or scene from a painting is an
effort of the same intrinsic character. We require to
keep in view some real scene in order to acquire the
expanse and the colours of a reality, and to take along
with this the form and outline given in the picture, till
thn two are fused, if we may so speak, together, or till
the scene represented in the picture is the same to ua
as if we stood before the reality.

This faculty enters into all the higher operations of
mind. It is the direct basis of Imagination, and is re-
quisite in Reasoning, Abstraction, and in every kind of
originality. It represents the highest range and con-
summation of the human intellect,

THE EMOTIONS.

The Emotions are a class of feelings in their nature
analogous to the Sensations, but differing from these
in being mixed up and associated with intellectual
operations. They might be not inaptly defined aa In-
tellectualiscd Sunsatious.

There is not the same anatomical distinction among
the Kinotions as among the Senses, nor can they be
classified solely by a reference to the structure of the
human frame. Several of them have a very specific
local apparatus, such aa Tenderness, and the emotion
of the Ludicrous; but as res|)ect8 many others, we must,
in arranging them, refer to the objects of the outer
world that set them in action, Man is not fitted up so

THE HTTMAN MDTD.

much with certain particular emotions, ai with a large
capacity of emotion; and according as he is acted on
by the things about him will his emotions show them-
selves. Mew circumstances and large changes in the
constitution of human society develop new feeling* of
interest and new trains of emotion. The unfolding of
the mysteries of nature produces a class of feelings un-
known to ignorant ages; but the men of these ages
wero in their turn affected with a species of wonder
and awe, which disappeared before the growth of the
scientific analysis of the worM. The emotions produced
in the mind of one that can look back over a vast series
of historical revolutions, could not, in their faintest
germ, be traced in a denizen of primitive society. So
all the new works of men, and all the great changes
that come over the peopled earth, give birth to original
and appropriate emotions, which bear a part in giving
an interest and a charm to human existence. Like-
wise each variety of condition, rank, and occupation,
has its own form of stirring the human breast, and
its peculiar resources against the cold, dull, empty,
blank condition of mind that is reckoned one of the
greatest miseries of existence. Emotion, in the prac-
tical point of view, is the opposite of ennui.

Adopting the order of arrangement which seems to us
on the whole the most convenient in a brief sketch like
the present, we shall commence with

THE EMOTION OF TERROR.

The feeling of Terror, in its most simple form, is an
instinctive tremor communicated to the system in con-
sequence of some sensations, that, while being disagree-
able, are new, strange, or unwonted. Objects that have
the aspect of might or power acting in an entirely new
form, and suggesting destruct'lon or danger without in-
dicating where, how, or when, disarming resistance by
uncertainty, and giving no sign as to what should be
the proper response of the system to their approach,
are said to be objects of Terror, trembling, or alarm.
The physical action of shaking or quaking seems to be
the result of the breach that arises iii the nervous cir-
cuit, as when a sensation is conveyed inwards which is
incapable of rousing some one distinct stimulus to the
responsive muscles outwards, or which suggests two or
three at the same time, that paralyse each other, and
lead to none being issued. This state of things seems
constantly to produce a quaking agitation of the whole
frame, with an unsettling of the tone of the system,
and a very great discharge of nervous energy, which
paralyses and weaken^ all the powers of life. A visible
blow may require all the force of the system to meet
it ; but if the response or mode of resistance be distinct
and clear, it does not paralyse and debilitate the living
energies. The uncertainty which is the cause of Terror
is the opposite of knowledge, experience, and fami-
liarity, or of the full intellectual recognition of the
whole train of circumstances attached to each event.
Terror, therefore, is to be met by knowledge.

To early life and inexperienced minds, many of the
objects of nature are the cause of Terror. Children are
dismayed by strange faces and strange dwellings. Rude
nations are terriiied by eclipses, comets, earthquakes,
and rare appearances, and only extricate themselves
by imagining some connections between them and the
powers above, which give them a meaning and purpose.
The pestilence walking in darkness is an object of uni-
versal Terror; it becomes disarmed, according as we are
able to see the fixed laws and conditions of its work-
ing. A government that acts without the medium of
law is a reign of Terror ; confldence is produced by
adherence to known rule. Ailments which we have for-
merly gone through are looked upon with indifference;
but any symptoms of disorder not experienced before
put us in a state of alarm. Uncertainty is always a
cause of disorganisation of the whole plan of human
life. Prudence and morality are supported by a clear
perception of the consequences of our actions, and of
all that is likely to come upon us. It takes only a
Tory small matter to induce ft atate of Terror; but a«

in the kindling of a fire, or the bursting of a flood-gate,
the evil consequences may be a thousandfold more
extensive than the cause. The minor instances of this
emotion are seen in the bashfulness, shyness, and re-
luctance that are felt in entering upon new occupations,
or coming before new people or strange assemblages.
There is a considerable waste of nerve incarred on all
such occasions Terror is the noxious ingredient in
superstition of all kinds, being the natural result of
the ignorance and uncertainty that superstition grows
upon. Fear is only a variety of Terror, having in it
somewhat of the anticipation of certain evil; and as
we are rarely prepared to meet an evil event so as
completely to disarm it of its pangs, a certain amount
of Terror is inspired by tL e anticipation.

When mixed up with many other feelings of a dif-
ferent description. Terror is sometimes reckoned an
agreeable stimulus ; as in poetic and dramatic compo-
eitions, legendary tales, and superstitious rites. It is
then diluted to the degree of throwing an interesting
excitement around matter that might otherwise be
felt as dull and insipid.

The emotions of Wonder, Surprise, and Astonish-
ment might be classed next to Terror, as having a
certain degree of affinity, although so far distinct as
not to be included under it. Their object or exciting
cause is some breach of expectation, or something
occurring where a very different thing was looked for.
Experience leads us to adopt certain views as t > the
usual course and arrange-, icnt of affairs and evonts,
and when they turn out ii contradiction to our ri?.
conceived notions, we are af.'r!cted with a kind of shock
or excitement that is called ' Surprise.' When a thin/^
very much surpasses in kind or degree the notion we
had formed of it, or disappoints our expectation to a
great and unaccountable u. vcnt, we * wonder,' and are
' astonished ' at the event. This feeling, therefore, so
far agrees with Terror, that it has reference to our
previous knowledge, ani to its being nonplussed by
actual occurrences; buc it does not imply, in ordi-
nary cases, that we arr unable to give a distinct re-
sponse to the appearance, or that we fall into the
tremors of painful vibcertainty. In a world so com-
plicated and so hard to predict, Surprise often over-
takes us, and may be acr^-Cuted one of the standing
emotions of human life. Being an excitement of a not
"isagreeablc kind, it is .courted and made use of by
the artists whn make a trade of carving out excite-
ment for their fellow-men.

' LOOiCINO BEFORE AND AFTER.'

This may be adopted as the general designation of
a group of emotions havirg reference to things past,
future, or distant, which can therefore be present only
to the intellect. It is not, however, the mere fact of ab-
sence that gives a peculiar emotion to such things, for
a beautiful scene ercites the same feeling, whether we
are looking at it or merely remembering it; the pecu-
liarity arises from their influence on the present. In
describing the higher activities, we shall have to allude
to the effect of absent objects in stimulating Desire and
Active exertion ; at present we shall consider only one
special case, which will be readily recognised under the
denomination of ' Plot-Interest.'

The simplest form of this emotion is seen in the
ordinary action of taking an aim, which is common to
man with animals The eye is fixed upon something
within its reach, and the other organs are put in
motion to secure it within their grasp also. The feel-
ing that pred iminates between the moment of taking
an aim and the complete possession of the object, is a
distinct and often-recurring experience of human na-
ture, and is what we here call plot-interest. It is
rema-kable fur the intense way that it occupies the
entire being, both body and mind, sense and activity.
A nervous thrill passes through the whole of the
system. An animal in pursuit of its prey, whether
by chase or by climbing, and all the occupations
1 of huniau beings that inrolre the taking of an aim

331

CHAMBEBffS INFOBHATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

and the fbllowiug up of a !ead, ezeini>lifr the pcei-
tion that brings out plot<'jitereit. Life ii full of «uoh
cases, having all degrees of t-ompl:cacy, from the sim-
plest situation, as in applying food to the mouth, where
the plot lies between the cup and the lip, up to the
most complicated search that the intellect can be occu-
pied with. Wherever an object is fully before the 'lew,
and the whole of the activity of tne frame set in mo-
tion to approach it, and where a palpable pro^;ress is
making, we have the circumstances calculated to bring
out this emotion. Its intensity depends in the first
place on the strength of feeling we have for the end in
view, and in the next place, on the rapidity of the
approach, and the roarncss to the end. The engrossing
power of the situatin- M'ises from its stronely inflaming
some appetite, and ough that the active organs of
the frame; and t.' . larger the amount of activity
brought into play, the deeper the engrossment of the
mind. In running a race, the interest is iu proportion
to the stakes, and is most intense as the goal is
Beared. An infusion of uncertainty, which communi-
cates a slight tinge of terror to the emotion, increases
the excitement nf the contest.

The sports, pastimes, and pleasures most commonly
resorted to for affording exhilarating and satisfying
employment to human beings turn for the most part
upon the emotion of plot. Field-sports, and games,
and contests of strength and skill, are all of this cha-
racter. Even in the stir of social assemblies, much
of the action and reaction of man on man presents
this kind of interest mixed up with other sources
of satisfying exc' tement. In putting a question, and
waiting for the answer, or in making a remark, and
watching the response, there is a deliberate taking of
an aim, and a moment of watching and suspense while
looking for the effect.

In the literature of emotion, or the productions of
literary art intended as a sort of higher pastime, plot-
interest is a predominating feature.

Under the same head of ' looking before and after,'
we must place the emotions of hope and fear, or the
feelings that arise from the action of present circum-
stances on Culture plans, projects, expectations, and
hopes. The human mind being capable of forming
pictures and projects of the future, and being disposed
to occupy itself as intensely with these as with any-
thing present, it experiences a peculiar emotion when
anything happens bearing on its remote interests.
The intoxication of hope and expectation is often more
powerful than any feeling of enjoyment of what is
strictly present. Many men are peculiarly liable to
l-u swaved by hopes and day-dreams, and the leaders
of mankind have often acted on this weakness.

EMOTIONS OP SOCIABILITr.

The emotion of Tenderness is the most prominent of
the feelings of Sociability, and is deeply rooted in the
structure of the human frame. In its simplest form
and manifestation it suppores two human beings, the
one dependent upon the other for help, succour, or
support; and it is contrasted with isolation, self-suffi-
ciency, and independence. It produces a powerful sen-
sation in the breast, extending to the organs of utter-
ance and sight; and in its extreme state of violent out-
burst, it causes convulsions in the one and iiioist effu-
sions in the uthe;. The muscular response is further
completed by the action of embracing in folded arms.

Nature h;is provided for this emotion such a 1» rge
compass, i>iid so many degrees of expression, that no-
thing less than some extraordinary occasion brings out
its extreme manifestations, except in children, savages,
and persons of great constitutional weakness of fierve.
Tihe feeling can be made apparent by a very slight
tinge given to the tones of the voice, and by a certain
weu-recognised attitude of the eye, while the embrace
ia reduced to the simple shake of the hand ; it beine
one of the refinements of civilised life to suppress all
the violent exhibitions of ;>assion, and emplo/ oul;- such
M are inild, gentle, and suggestive.
332

This emotion shows to what an extent nature haa
formed human beings to depend ou one another. It
belongs to ail men more or less, and in the average
it bears a high proportion to the general capacity of
amotion inherent in our nature. The institutions and
arnuieements of hun*an life which flourish upon it
are likewise numerous and engrossing.

Pity and compassion are very common forms of the
feeling; but besides being limited to a single class of
the cases coming under it, they express only the feeling
on one side. The beings that are the objects of the com-
passion are themselves affected with the very same emo-
tion (provided they respond at all to the feeling exercised
towaids them) as the persons who show the pity.

The affections at large are based on the tender emo-
tion, and are expressed in part through its signs. Pa-
rental, filial, and fraternal love, and the feeling between
dependeiits and superiora in general (when the relation
is one of feeling, and not of worldly inter .'st alone), and
between men co-operating and sympaCuising in some
common object, are all supplied from this fountain.
The attachment of the sexes involves it to a large ex-
tent, and the position assumed in the relation of man
and wife is manifestly calculated to bring it constantly
into play. Affection, in the ordinary sense, means a
relation of habitual tenderness.

Pain, suffering, and violent shocks are apt to exprese
themselves in an outburst of tender emotion; but this
is to be regarded as a by-use, a.id not the main pur-
pose of the feeling or of its instrumentality. Such a
turn given to the expression of paiu is like an appeal
for help, or a confession of dependence. It may often
be notic. that the outburst of grief is always accele-
rated by sympathy from a second party, owing to the
natural effect in mutual feelings, for their expression in
one person to bring out a corresponding expression in
another. The most natural and primitive expression
of pain in the isolated individual is the sudden retrac-
tation of the wounded part, followed up by the instinc-
tive actions of rage, resentment, and hostility. It ia
always a sign of weakness, or of the strength of the
emotion of depenu<!nce, when it passes into grief. The
pains which most 'laturally and immediately cause
grief are the pains o',' wounded affection.

Warm-heartedness, kindliness, geniality, are common
terms for the manifestations of tenderness, or for the
characters wher<* it is strong. Benevolence on the large
scale is prompted by the same emotion, which may
therefore be considered as one of the sources and main-
springs of hui :an goodness.

Veneration, reverence, or worship may be ranked
next among the social emotions. The object of this
cl.Ass of feelings is dignity or greatness, which is another
name for the possession of power of some kind or other.
There is an attitude and an emotion caused by the
aspect of power and might which is of a peculiar and
distinct kind, tending to the prostration or bending of
the body, whereas the carriage of greatness itself is ex-
treme erectness of posture. The emotions of veneration
and reverence are, as commonly understood, somewhat
more complex than the mere bending to power : tlioy
generally imply something of love or of approbation
and delight towards the character or nature of the
power, being opposed to mere superstition or terror,
where power causes quaking and dread. Some natures
are so constituted as to be exceedingly sensitive to the
aspect of dignity, majesty, and grandeur, and to delight
iu the posture of reverential homage ; and as the world
presents many objects of this character, such an emotion
will be frequently called into exercise. The principal
practical effect of the susceptibility is to lead to a
ready submission to the authorities and powers that
ri'le over men.

Admiration is another feeling of the same claw of
sociable emotions. It couples together wonder and the
feeling of power, and relates to what is not merely great,
but surpassing in its kind, unexpected or inexplicable.
It does not imply overpowering migltt so much as rare
and (uriirising excellence, which delights us by serving

THE HUMAN HIND.

by the

its endg, tmd uUniiihes ui by our not being prepftred
by tlte ordinary course of things to meet with it. Hish
virtues, great genius, and extraordinary energy and wul,
are among the objects of universal admiration.

Esteem is more of an intellectual effort than of an emo-
tional outburst, and consists of a certain appreciation
of the qualities and virtues of individuals in reference
to their position, pretensions, and our tastes and stan-
dards of judging. The resulting emotion is expressed
by such terms as respect, deference, and the accordance
of position and regard. Such an -imotion is the foun-
dation of one ol the forms of lilri'ic,s or attachments
between individuals, or one of .ae bonds of sociability.
All these emotions, of veneration, admiration, and
esteem, have their opposites, whose definition is deter-
mined if the emotions themselves are clearly defined.

EUOTION OF THE :.UDICROVS.

This emotion is exceedingly characteristic and dis-
tinct, both in the anatomy, the consciousness, and in
the objects that bring it into action. The clash of the
dignified, venerable, august, lofty, or great with what is
mean, contemptible, poor, or insignificant, produces a
conf.ict of attitude and emotion which is relieved by
the outburst of laughter. The act of laughter is a
series of convulsive expirations, which are as it were
the descent from the tense, erect, dignified attitude of
the body to the relaxed posture, or the posture that
agrees with the absence of all feeling of power or wor-
ship, and with the presence of ease, carelessness, and
abandonment. If an object that naturally possesses
the aspe':t of dignity is accidentally broughi into a
position where it unavoidably assumes a character of
vulgarity, degradation, or meanness, it is impossible to
regard it in both lights at the same instant; for the
human constitution cannot sympathise with two such
opposite objects at one time; either we refuse to attend
to more than one of the points presented; or we are
torn on the rack of conflict; or nature takes its course,
and we burst into laughter.

Humour is felt to be a higher, finer, and more genial
thing than wit, or the mere ludicrous; but the exact
definition of it has occasioned some difficulty. It is
the combination of the laughable with an element of
tenderness, sympathy, warm-heartedness, or affection.
Wit, sweetened by a kind, loving expression, becomes
humour. Men who have little tenderness in their
nature, or whose language and manner are destitute of
soft, warm, and affectionate feeline, cannot be humorists,
however witty they may be. There is no >umour in
Butler, Pope, Swift, Dryden, Ben Jonson, or Voltaire.

EUOTION OF SIHILABITY.

The intellectual power of like recalling like, even out
of remote positions and distinct circumstancp' produces
a distinct agitation or thrill of feeling tha. ueserves to
be reckoned as a separate emotion. All the discoveries
of identification, where use and wont is suddenly
broken through, and a common feature mode known
arsong objects previously looked on as entirely difl^e-
rent, produce a flash of agreeable surprise, and the
kind of peculiar sparkling cheerfulness that arises
from the sudden lightening of a burden. The variety
and complexity of the world acts like a weight or
pressure on the human intellect, and every case of
newly -found identity is a diminution of the weight:
the labour of comprehension being reduced by the
discovery. To understand tho fall of bodies on the
earth and the motions of the pUnets, required two
separate efforts of study before the time of Newton ;
but now one study serves for both. The first effect or
flash on the mind of ouch identities in the midst of
endless variety is always startling and agreeable. The
same effect happens from happy comparisons or illus-
trations, which save the labour of the intellect in com-
prehending some difficult matter, by recalling some-
thing exactly similar from among our previously-
understood and familiar conceptions, as when a bellows
is brought to luind iu order to luoke known the struc-

ture of the lungi. The identification of common fea-
tures in the characters of men and societies in distant
regions and remote ages, has the same cheerful, eii-
livenin't effect. It is like the encouraging stimulus
that we derive from a stroke of success, or a sudden
lightening of our load of labour and care. It is one of
the prerogatives of human genius to furnish such iden-
tifications and comparisons, and in this way to ease
and enchant the course of human existence.

FITNESS — KEEPING — HABMONY — BEAUTV.

These emotions all result from certain intellectual
relations of sensible objects, and they are closely allied
with the emotion of similarity. They all suppose,
more or less, some coincidence, likeness, or common
effect, among things which at first sight seem un-
connected and irreplarly varied; and their influence
on the muid is of the lightening, cheering, and encou-
raging kind — ' a thing of beauty is a joy for ever.'

When any work has to be done, any difficulty or re-
sistance to be overcome, the party having the thing in
hand naturally feels a certain sense of pressure or
weight in contemplating or conceiving it. The actual
accomplishment of the task is the natural and obvious
relief to the pressure. But it is also lightened by the
perception of any set of means that seem peculiarly
fitted for the end in view. Any tool that achieves its
object easily, and with all the appearance of ease, is an
object of agreeable emotion. A sharp, clean knife, »
well-fitted, smooth-going set of machinery, and every-
thing that not only does its work well, but does it in a
way to suggest that it does it easily, give manifest
pleasure to the beholder. A powerful, healthy animal
frame is a pleasurable object, from its suggesting power
and facility in accomplishing its work. One of the
beauties of dress arises from its appearing to give great
ease and freedom to the animal movements.

All complex obi'ects and scenes which strike the
mind through several avenues at the same time, have
the chance of producing currents of thought and feel-
ing that either agree or disagree with one another.
The agreement causes a pleasurable emotion, the dis-
agreement the reverse. If we see a rich man refusing
himself the comforts of life, we suffer from a conflicting
impression, and wo describe the fact as being out of
keeping, inconsistent, and discordant. On the other
hand, a person who acts in all points, and puts on all
the appearances consistent with his position, character,
and duties, is an object of agreeable emotion. We
often say that houses ought to be in keeping with their
inmates, and with the purposes tuey are to serve; and
we have a dis'iinct pleasure in finding that they ere so.
It is not difficult to understand that all conflicting
trains of association, thought, and feeling, must be
painful, weakening, and paralysing to the human con-
stitution; while the concurrence of the same trains
from different quarters gives a feeling of lightness,
strength, and support. The standing object of man
must always be to overcome the resistance to his path,
to reconcile opposition, and bear burdens ; and every-
thing that reduces the amount of the burdens, or in-
creases the sources of support, will be a direct source of
happiness or of pleasurable emotion ; and all the ap-
pearances about us that solicit our attention will be
lightening or oppressive according as they communi-
cate a con srdant or a discordant set of impulses.

There is on effect produced in the various fine arts,
which is iu fact the very essence and cream of art
itself, or the most genuine artistic impression. It is
what is called harmony and melody in music; pic-
turesque in painting ; keeping in poetry ; and fitness
and suitableness of the parts, exquisite adaptation,
and the essence of beauty, in all the regions of art.
When we put a number of like things together, as
soldiers in a line, there is an agreeable feeline of orider
and uniformity; but the force of art lies iu joining two
or more things of different composition and make,
which nevertheless produce a fine harmouioi's feeling.
It is iu Greek architecture, the harmopy of the oolumui

CHAMBTJBS'S IN^'OBMATIOir FOR THE PEOPLE.

and the entablature ; in Gothio, the harmony of the
•pire with the arch; and in all itylei, the harmony of
the deuorationa with oii^ another and with the mam
body. In Mulpture, it is the suiting of expreiiion to
mind, and of attitude and draperv to expreigion. In
painting, it ii the composing and grouping of thinge
lucli ai will in different ways excite the same emotion.
In speech, it is the suiting of the action to the word,
the sound to the sense. In poetry, which combines the
spirit and effect of music and painting, the scope for
fine harmonit4 is unbounded.

ACTIVITIES.

Under the heads of Reflex .^ct8, Appetites, and In-
stincis, we have alread'' r^^-jced a certain number of
the capacities for action Jnging to the human con-
stitution. Under the ' it nead we are to consider
a higher order of ai'^tiv , o^tc'S ; namely, such as are
regulated by intellect or omnected with the emotions.

DESIRES.

These are analogous in their nature to the appetites.
They express the cravings or longings of an unsatisfied
system K)r some objects that are imagined or conceived
capable of satisfying it. They originate in an irrita-
tion of some part of the frame, which suggests to the
intelle<:t certain objects that would allay it ; and the
bent of the mind becomes in consequence occupied
upon these objects, to the exclusion to a certain extent
of other trains of thought and emotion. The Appetites
are confined to the Sensationt circle, but the Desires
extend to the circle of emotion and intellect, and take
in all the gratifications that are associated with the
higher regions of mind. Among the most conspicuous
and pressing of the ordinary Desires of manliind, we
may cite the following : —

Avarice, or the desire of wealth, or of the aggregate
of material advantages resulting from human labour,
and exchangeable in the coniinerce of the world. The
longing for food is an appetite ; the longing for money,
which will procure food at any time, as well a« other
things, is an intellectualised longing or a desire ; the
associations of intellect are interposed between the
thing actually enjoyed and the thing longed for.
Habit often has the effect of making the desire termi-
nate in the money, and cease to have any regard to
the primary objects of enjoyment with which it was
originally associated.

Ambition, or the desire of power, grandeur, influence,
importance, admiration, and worship among our fel-
low-men. As human nature is formed to be intensely
gratified by power and influence on the one hand, and
by admiration, homage, and esteem on the other; and
as it is easy to conceive to one's self, or to imagiiu the
possession of the,«e attributes, they readily bccoiuu ob-
jects of ambition. The more obvious and conceivable
gratifications are always indeed the most popular, and
the most eagerly sought atler.

Curioiilt/, or the love of 'wiowledge, is a more in-
tellectual kind of desire tha either of the others. It
supposes a mind alive to tiio emotions attending the
acquisition and possession of knowled<^, and of those
identifications that increase the sphere of human in-
sight into the world. In this, as in all other desires
and appetites, the enjoyment of a certain amount of
gratification suggests a still larger amount to the
imagination, and thereby creates the desire.

The desire of self-oiUlivalion and of the high de-
relopuicnt of one's own nature and faculties, is one of
the must elevated of our desires, proceeding on a strong
i^jpreciation and estimate of the higher qualities of
human nature. There must be in the mind so actuated
a susceptibility to human worth, either from a per.
ception of what is best in one's self, or from a discrimi-
nation of the finest qualities of others. There can be no
desire unless an idea is formed of the object, and unless
this idea is capable of exciting some lively emotions,
which emotioufe are the mainspring of the desire.

Deiire !• to be contrasted with satisfaction, content-
ment, satiety, and serene enjoyment of the present.
Contentment is the happiest condition of man. Desira
has always in it something of the nature of an internal
conflict or opposition of states, and it is therefore so far
a source of waste, disquietude, or unhappiness ; but
it is one of the preliminaries of energetic activity and
determination directed to the accomplishment of great
objects. Nevertheless, for the peace and hannony of
the individual, it u essential that Desire should always
as soon as possible be swallowed up, either in content-
ment or in action, both which states are convistent with
the most perfect unison of all the powers of the system.

IIABITJ.

As the Desires are parallel to the Appetites, so the
Habits correspond to the Instincts : they refer not to
the stimulants to action, but to the capacities and
means of acting.

We have already shown that the instincts become
perfect under the operation of the law of sensational
growth, and that on this consideration walking is to
be considered as an instinct and not a habit. The true
habits are best marked out in the class of cases where
actions are acquired that are opposed to the instinctive
tendencies, as in somo mechanical processes where the
rythmical action of the two arms is contradicted. For
example, in hammering a piece of iron, the motion of
the arm that wields the hammer is totally different
from the motion requisite to hold the hammered rod.
Such an exertion can only be learned by subduing an
instinct. The confirmation of an instinct takes place
through the law of sensational growth ; the contradic-
tion of an instinct and the formation of a habit depend
on the force of intellectual growth expressed by the
law of contiguity. The manner of originating habits
is well known. We must by some effort of will, imita-
tion, or external compulsion, place the organ in a cer-
tain position, or force it to go through a series of move-
ments a great number of times; and in the course of
this repetition or prolonged action, a cohesion grows up
between the difl^erent steps of the process, and at lost
they succeed one another independently of the com-
pulsory eff^ort that first ' ned them together.

We have therefore lu each case of habit, 1«/, Some
power capable of communicating a bent or a series of
movements to some of the organs of the body or mind ;
id. The continuance or repetition of the process ; 3d,
The operation of the adhesive power named the force
of contiguity, either to contradict an instinctive series
of movements or originate some separate and distinct
series; ith, The resulting confirmation of the bent or
train desired to be imparted to the system.

The mechanical arts and the bodily carriage require
a training, or a class of habits to be communicated to
the general bodily -ncchanism. The soldier has to
learn a peculiar set, and peculiar trains of movements,
in decided opposition to the bent of the untutored rus-
tic, who has allowed his instinctive movements to have
free scope, and who comes into the army with all the
characteristics of the natural man.

The repression of instinctive mcyements is implied
in habits of self-command, coolness, and composure
under irritation or some exciting stimulus. This re-
pression is at first effected by strength of will, by imi-
tation, or by external compulsion, and in the end
becomes habitual and easy. The resistance to terror,
which is a powerful emotion springing from a natural
instinct, may likewise be formed into a habit of courage.
Habits of obedience are created in opposition to self-
will, and to the instinctive tendency to follow out one's
prevailing temper. Habits of authority have to be
acquired in spite of the disposition to sympathise with
our iellow-beings under all circumstances. Habits of
promptitude, activity, and alertness are frequently the
result of a long-continued contradiction of the natural
character. Habits of grace and polite demeanour are
in many persons a growth forced entirely from without,
and not coinciding with a single tendency of the na-

THE HUMAN mSD.

is implied
composure
This re-
11, by imi-
the end
to terror,
a natural
f courage,
on to self-
out one's
ave to be
thise with
Habits of
enlly the
le natural

tuml man. The n»tlre initincti and eraotioni may b«
overpowered by habits, or in persons where any of them
are deficient, they may often be replaced by habit*.

When a natural susceptibility is increased by exer-
cise, as in the perfecting of the senses, we prefer to call
this a case of sensational rather than intellectual
growth; but the communication and improTcment of
the higher tastes and sensibilities, such aa the sense of
beautr, it a case of purely intellectual growth, and is
therefore properly considered aa a habit.

The capacities of human nature in general are a
mixture of primitive impulses and instincts with ac-
quired habits. Some natures come into the world far
more richly endowed with instincts than others ; and
some have- tho advantage of '^n aptitude for fixing
habits, and of opportunitier of forming them. The
strength of the adhesive force uf contiguity is the
measure of the rapidity of converting attempts and in-
struction into habits. But as all such acquisitions are
identified with the processes of the organic growth of
the system, they are most easy in early life, when this
growth is most rapid, and they are weak in old age
and in times of declining health. Whta new habits
have to be formed, the best circumstances for their
growth are such as are favourable to the freshness and
vigour of the nervous and muscular systems. The
processes of mind depending on the intellectual power
that we call similarity, are not so dependent on the
vitality and growing vigour of the frame as the pro-
cesses coming under contiguity.

BELIEFS.

The nature of belief or faith has had occasion to be
intensely and widely discussed, as being i: -olved in some
of the fundamental doctrines of the Chr: faith.

The thing to be chiefly kept in view ii. dttling the
nature of faith la, that it is a thing not of the intellect
solely, but also and mainly aa active principle, impulse,
or force, operating upon human nature to cause it to
act or to resist action. Our desires, passions, and im-
pulses, are often suppressed by the power of our beliefs.
It is by faith that a burnt child avoids the fire.

Belief must ulwaya have a reference to action; with-
out this it hp,s no meaning. When we go to work with
the view of producing some eifect, it is on the ground
that a certain action of ours will be fol 'owed up by
some other things that we desire to happen We go to
rest at night, believing that we shall awoKen iu the
rooming refreshed; we labour, in the belief that we
shall be rewarded ; we lay up store for the future, in
the faith of its being preserved to us by the laws of our
country. Belief implies knowledge, or the possession
of some facts, truths, or propositions about the world;
and it implies further, that these have been so en-
grained in our minds, or that the Bequences and con-
junctions implied in them are so firmly associated to-
gether that they form a link in our actions, and that
ve feel sure of the eternal constancy of the tie that
binds them together. When we throw water on a fire
to quench it, we do so by the force of our determina-
tion to quench the firo, joined with our belief in the
fact that water will have the desired effect; and the
more firmly the iwo ideas of the application of water
and the extinction of fi"e are rivetted in our head, or
the stronger our faith in the sequence, the more unhe-
sitatingly do we proceed to act upon it. But in cases
where the tie is weak, the action is vacillating and un-
decided. Belief of some degree or othtr is co-extensive
with knowledge, or with propositions or affirmations re-
specting the order of nature and the course of events.

Some cf our beliefs are instinctive, and anticipate
our experience of nature. Every instinct that leads us
to perform an action for the sake of a subsequent effect
involves a belief. But the most important of our in-
stinctive beliefs, is the belief that we have in the uni-
formity of nature, and in the resemblance of the uni-
verse at large to the parts that we have had experience
of. We cannot think of the distant and unseen with-
out supposing it to be analogoui to something that is

present or seen, and we act upon this aMumption. We
cannot help believing that other human beings are like
ourselves, and that we will always continue in our
present way of thinking and feeling : nothing but a
laborious intellectual process, and much labour and
experience, will dispossess us of these primitive convic-
tions of our being. When they are once modified and
corrected they are of great value to us, but in their
original shape they are very far from the truth.

All our active tendencies involve beliefs or convic-
tions, atid the action often suggests the belief. He
that hbc a strong desire for stimulants, generally has
the belief that they are for his good : and our partialities
for individuals make us believe in their being pos-
sessed of good qualities without any other evidence.
Making, aa we always do, the sweeping assumption
that our own actions and conduct are exactly what
they ought to be, we are led into many minor assump-
tions and beliefs as necessary consequences.

There is a certain class of assertions that sometimes
receive the name of moral truths, because they affirm
moral qualities and obligations: as when we say justice
is right; the laws of the country are obligatory upon
its citizens; to show mercy is a vixtue. Such persons
aa are strongly penetrated with these maxims, and
disposed to act upon them on all occasions, may be
said to have strong faith in them; and they that make
light of them, or set them aside from trivial motives,
are said not to believe them. In the same way there
are religious truths — such as, 'God is good' — and the
intense possession of them, with a practice correspond-
ing, is called religious faith. It must, however, bo
admitted, in reference both to the moral and the re-
ligious impressions, that ' faith,' or ' belief,' is a some-
what awkward mode of expressing them.

The faith that above all others dignifies and perfects
human nature, is faith in evidence or in proof; which
means, in other words, a belief in what is found iu
nature on a careful and sufficient examination. There
are certain tests or criteria of whether or not a state-
ment agrees with the fact of things, and these tests are
called the proof or evidence of the affirmation; and
when a man has brought himself to appreciate these,
and to bow to them with tho whole force of his nature,
he may be considered to be a truly rational being, or a
being at one with the decrees und ordination of the
world. This faith in evidence ■ '.ot an instinct, but a
growth confirmed by the force of habit, and acquired
in defiance of many of our most powerful natural im-
pulses. It is produced by large dealings with the
actual world, and by the cultivation of the exact
sciences, or the departments of knowledge which have
been brought to express with perfect accuracy the inva-
riable order of nature.

IH ITATION — SY MPAinY.

We had occasion to speak of a certain class of emo-
tions as the emotions of sociability; and we have like-
wise a class of activities that might be entitled sociable
activities. They are the forces given forth by one
human being, and influencing other human beings, and
their tendency is to produce a harmonious or common
action in aggregates of men. In this way society is
formed, and brought to act like an individual. We
have seen that there is an instinctive law of human
nature for the purpose of harmonising the attitudes
and actions of the various organs of the human system;
we have now to recognise the more extended impulse
that causes man to act upon man till a harmony arises
through each collective mass of human beings.

Imitation and Sym]>ath/ are names used for one
and the same peculiarity, which we may describe by
saying that the expression and outward actin'^s of one
man have a tendency to stimulate a corresponding
state of mind in all other men that have occasion tr
witness them. In the great m<ijority of cases, the fu...
eflfect is prevented by the action of some of the other
forces of human nature; but the influence still exists.
It extends to ereiy feeling aud state of mind that cim.

335

OHAMBEBffS INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

be embodied iii A diatinct outward upreeaion. We
find it to be » common remark, that tne strong out-
biirit* of emotion are infectioui: people can rarely itnnd
unmoved before the influence of laughter or tear*. Kn-
thusiaem of an; kind, which means an intense exhi-
bition of some particular emotion, is always catching.
The strong expression of reverence or mlmiration is apt
to find its echo in all bystanders. The gait and manner
of one man may be communicated to the persons about
him if they are of the susceptible character. The unoc-
cupied minds and undecided activities of the young
are shaped by spoiitaneous and unconscious imitation
to a still greater extent than by express rules or formal
guidance. More widely still, imitation impresses a
common cast upon the langiia';^/ and manners of fami-
lies, tribes, and nations, and perpetuates the same forms
from generation to generation.

The imitation may be of very obvious and conspi-
cuous bodily actions, or it may reach to the subtlest
peculiarities of mind. In the one case it is a mere
instinct, in the other it is an instinct extended by in-
tellectual associations. The literal copying of an out-
ward act needs no intellect, as we may see in the case
of repeating a sound or a gesture; but when we imitate
the modes of thinking of other men, or embody in our
own language the thoughts that reach us in the Ian-
gunge of others, there is an express effort of the powers
of intellect requisite; more especially the powers of
similarity and constructive association. The instinctive
imitation or literal copying is within the capacity of
many animals ; and some races of men, such as the
Sclavonic populations, possess the power in high per-
fection ; but the imitation of an idea, so as to put it
into different forms and language, is an act that shows
a considerable force of intellect. Sir Christopher Wren's
imitation of St Peter's is very different from the prac-
tice of literally copying Greek temples in every imagi-
nable kind of building.

It hat been common to designate certain of the fine
arts, such as sculpture, painting, and poetry. Imitative
Arts, and to ascribe their origin to the innate tendency
of roan to imitation, thereby recognising the production
of likenesses or similitudes as one of the active princi-
ples of human nature.

THE WILL.

This is reckoned the highest and noblest of all the
active impulses of man. Its operations are based on
intelligence, and they are intended to enforce the con-
clusions of the reason against the instinctive and pas-
sionate impulses. By the intellect we make large
generalisations of what is good for the 'uture as well
as for the present, and of what is good for society
at large as well as for the individual ; and in obeying
the rules dictated by these intellectual considerations
we are often unsupported by any instinct, habit, or
imitative impulse; and were there not a large reserve
of power in human nature we might rarely be induced
to act in such cases at all, But in the very seat of
intelligence itself there is a central force that gives
impetus to its suggestions, exactly as the ganglia of
sense and instinct send forth the requisite stimulus to
the active organs of these circles. The power of the
appetites and passions diminishes according as the
object is distant and faintly perceived; the mere pro-
spective knowledge that we will be hungry a year
hence would not produce the same vigorous action as a
present hunger, and would not produce action at all
but for there being an additional centre of power at-
tached to the region of intellectual associations. Obe-
dience to remote and general views, and to what can
onl,' be conceived by the intellect, proceeds from this
centre, to which we commonly give the name ( -' Will.
When we conceive to ourselves some extensive scheme
that shall involve our whole life, and that we are
urged to, not by some single appetite or instinct, but
by an intellectual appreciation of our whole character
And being and the circumstances that surround us, and
cooclude upon » line of action for carrying the Kheme
AM

into operation, the execution will mainly depend upon
our will, or on the force that usually goes along with
the decisions of the intellect. No doubt the scheme
being adapted to tho collective impulses of our nature
ought to 1)0 supported by these, but as it cannot agree
with every impulse at every time, and as in some
aspects it may be wholly repugnant to us, it would
come to a stand if there were not a force independent
of sense, appetite, instinct, emotions, desires, habits,
and imitation, to carry us over the intervals when
these are dormant or are opposed to our plans. Were
it not for the power imbedded in the centre of intelli-
gence, forethought would be quenched every day of
our life by some strong impulse of our inferior nature.
The desire of ease at one time and of excitement at
another, the gratification of appetite, and the predo-
minance of strong eiiotion, would be more than suffi-
cient to counterbalance duty or prudence, if there
were not a peculiar and distinct tendency ir power to
carry into efl!ect the results of reason or the judgments
grounded on our intelligence.

The character of Will in an individual will depend
very much on the character of the intellect, or on tho
kind of considerations that it can most readily enter-
tain. It is impossible that action can be more elevated
than intelligence, or that a man can carry into effect
r'."ire than ne sees. The strength of Will does not
increase with the strength of the intellect, but the one
will always act along with the other. Energy following
up reason and the generalities of prudence, right, and
social good, and tested by overcoming occasionally all
the inferior propensities of one's being, is the true
definition of will; and the more elevated tho character
of the intellectual grasp, the more does the will stand
opart from the other forces and activities of the being.
When a man forms yery refined and lofty ideas of
prudence, self-culture, or social and moral duty, such
as will require the restraint or suppression of many
powerful impulses and instincts, and when his resolu-
tion is powerful enough to carry these into full effect,
he luuit be reckoned a man of singularly powerful will
as well as of elevated susceptibilities and intelligence.
There is in some men a general temperament of activity
or a strong tendency to action in every way that may
be open to them, extending over all the specific im-
pulses of the frame. In such men the force of pure
will does not stand out so clearly as in the class wnose
temperament is naturally passive and susceptible, but
who, on the spur of intellectual determinations, exert
an unremitted energy of executive force.

The actions where a strong will is most required are
such as, while they are at variance with many powerful
propensities, are also opposed to common usage, or use
and wont in the world at large, and of a kind that the
individual is unaccustomed to. With opposing in-
stincts, opposing habits, and, at the same time, an
opposing social exterior of public opinion, any kind of
proceeding must be intensely difficult, and must require
a high development of pure will.

Excitement is apt to come into comparison with
Will, and to be confounded with it. There is such a
thing as a temporary increase of the whole activity or
energy of the system, which enables a man for the time
to excel himself, a reaction of languor and weakness
being apt to succeed to it. But the proof of a strong
will as against mere excitement is an unremitted and
continued course of action, which may call for strong
eflfort at any moment, and which is iucompatible with
intervals of weakness and irresolution.

Having now given a slight sketch of the chief ele-
mentary powers and peculiarities of the human mind,
we ought next to go on to the consideration of the
complex faculties and susceptibilities, such as Obsbrva-
TioN, Memory, Abstiuctiu.n, Reason, Judgment, Imagi-
NATiu.N, CoNsciE.Nce, Ueniuh, kc: but the discussion of
these is not possible within our narrow limits, and we
must therafore refer the reader to such works as those
of Locke, Bacon, Keid, Stuwart, and Brown.

spend upon
along with
the scheme
our nature
,nnot agree
« iu Boiiie
I, it would
iidopondent
rei, habits,
rrali when
»ni. Were
I of intelli-
•ery day of
rior nature,
citement at

the predo-
B than Buffi-
ie, if there

ir power to
9 jadgmenta

will depend
;t, or on the
ladily enter-
lore elevated
T into effect
ill doea not
but the one
gy foUowinK
e, right, and
asionally all
ii the true
,he character
le will stand
of the being,
fty ideas of
,1 duty, such
ion of many
!u his resolu-
o full effect,
)ow«rful will
intelligence,
it of activity
ay that may
specific im-
>rce of pure
> class wnose
ceptible, but
ations, exert

required are
,ny powerful
sage, or use
ind that the
tpposing ill-
time, an
any kind of
nust require

>arison with
re is such u

activity or

for the time

rid weakness

of a strong

imitted and

for strong
patible with

.e chief elo-
uniau mind,
,tion of the
as OmEavA-

ENT, IhaGI-

liscussion uf
nits, and we
ks a* those

PHRENOLOGY.

PiiRKNOLOOY is A Greek compound, li^ifylng a dis-
course on the mind. The system which exclusiTelv
passes by this name was founded by Dr Francis Joseph
Oall, a German physician, bom in 1757. Dr Gall was
led, when a schoolboy, to surmise a connection of par-
ticular mental faculties with particular parts of the
brain, in consequence of observing a marked promi-
nence in the epres of a companion who always over-
matched him in committing words to memory. Find-
ing the same conformation iu others noted for the
same talent, he reflected that it was possible that other
talents might be accompanied by external marks, and
that dispositions might also be so indicated. He devoted
himself to observing marked features of character; and
on examining the heads, irna stru'sk with differences
in their forms, there being prominences and hollows
in some not found in others, with corresponding varia-
tions of character in the individuals. After most
extensive and accurate observation, he first lectured
on the subject in Vienna in 1796. There his lectures
were suppressed by a jealous and ignorant despotism ;
upon wli'ch he abandoned Germany and settled in
Paris, where he practised as a physician, and studied
and extended his ' doctrine,' as he always called it, till
his death in 1828. His great work, with its illustrative
engravings, is one of the most extensive and beautiflil
examples of inductive evidence of which any science
can boast. Dr Gall never took any particular step
for making phrenology known in our island. With
some slight exceptions, the science was not heard of in
Britain till introduced by Dr Spurzheim in 1815. He
was a native of Treves on the Moselle, bom in 1776,
the pupil, and, from 1804, the associate of Gall. Be-
sides making many valuable discoveries in the ana-
tomy and physiology of the brain, and ascertaining
several organs in addition to those discovtred by Gall,
Dr Spurzheim had the distinction of systenmtismg the
discoveries of both into a harmonious and beautiful
mental and moral philosophy. He died at Boston in
the IJnited States in 1832. Since then, the recog-
nised bead of the phrenological school has been 7>ir
George Combe of Edinburgh, author of many popular
works on the science, and its most successful teacher,
by his public prelections in Britain and America. The
applications of phrenology to insanity, health, and
infant education, have been at the same time aidmir-
ably made by the late Dr Andrew Combe. Whatever
may be thought of phrenology as a system of mental
philoBophy,it is undeniable that its adherents have taken
a lead in many social improvements, and shown the
practical utility of their doctrines,

PRINCIPLES OF PIIRRNOLOGY.

The brain is the organ b^ and through which mind
is manifested. Formerly, it was believed that nitnt^
and body were two distinct entities, and they were
accordingly treated of separately by two orders of phi-
losophers — the metaphysicians and the anatomists.
In vain to the metaphysician was it obvious that
we have no knowledge of mind but through the me-
dium of a bodily apparatus, with which it grows and
decays; he continued to treat of mind as a spirit un-
connected with body. The anatomical investigator
reasoned quite as unphilosophically when he assumed
that mind was nothing but matter, the higher qualities
of which were to think and feel. The phrenologist says
he avoids both these assumptions. He does not pretend
to know, much less to assume, the ustnee or nature of
either mind or matter. Whether they are one or dis-
tinct in known only to the God who made th,>ni ; and
whatever ther are, they must therefore be t*.e best pos-
sibly adapted to their end and design. The phreno-
No. 72.

legist diselaima materialism, but affirms that mind can
operate only by means of some kind of corporeal orga-
nisation. To all sane manifestations of muid, be main-
tains that brain in a healthy condition is necessary. In
sleep, fainting, and compression of the brain, mind ia
auspended. Were it an immaterial spirit, acting in-
dependently of the brain, the repose of the material
brain could not suspend the spirit's working. Pres-
sure on the brain instantly suspends consciousness.
Mr Combe, in his • System of Phrenology • (4th edition,
p, 14), describes several most interesting and instructive
experiments on compression, as made by lUcherand,
Cooper, Chanman, Cline, and others. Pinel clearly
traces to a lodUy cause the diseased manifestation of
mind called insanity, by the following case: — ^< A man
engaged in a mechanical employment, and ailerwarda
confined in the Bicetre, oxiieriences at irregular inter-
vals fits of madness characterised by the following
sympton;*: — At first there is a sensation of heat in the
abdominal viscera, with intense thirst and a strong
constipation ; the heat gradually extends to the breast,
neck, and face, producing a flush of the complexion ;
on reaching the temples it is still greater, and is ac-
companied by very strong and frequent pulsationa in
the temporal arteries, which seem as if about to burst;
finally, the nervous affection arrives at thebrain.' What,
then, follows 1 All the effects hitherto described are
purely corporeal. Pinel proceeds — ' The patient is llien
seized with an irresistible propensity to shed blood;
and if there be a sharp instrument within reach, he
is apt to sacrifice to his fury the first person who pre-
sents himself,' How powerfully this case connects
mind and brain, and what a strong light it sheds upon
that really bodily, that is, cerebral disease called in-
sanity ! The brain, when exposed, has been seen in
action during emotion, conversation, dreams, &c. Sir
Astley Cooper refers to the case of a young man who
had lost a portion of skull above the eyebrow. ' I dia-
tinctly saw the pulsation of the brain,' says Sir Astley;
* it was regular and slow; but at this time he was agi-
tated by some opposition to his wishes, and directly ute
blood was sent with increased force to the brain, and
the pulsations became frequent and violent,' Blumen-
bach observed a portion of exposed brain to sink during
sleep, and swell when the patient awoke.

From the above facts phrenologists assume: — 1«(,
As there is no vision or hearing without their respec-
tive organs, the eye and ear, so there is no thinking
or feeling without their respective organs in the brain;
2d, Every mental affection must correspond with a cer-
tain state of the organ, and vice versa ; 3d, The per-
fection of the mind will have relation to the perfection
of its organs. According to this doctrine, therefore, the
study oi the cerebral organs is the study of the mind,
in the only condition in which we can cognize it.

The ' ""in being the general organ of the mind, we
come next to im^uire whether it is all necessary to
every act of feelmg or thinking; or whether it is
divided into parts, each part being the instrument or
organ of a particular mental act, 1 s<. It is a law of orga-
nisation that different functions are'' never performed
by the same organ. The stomach, liver, heart, eyes, ears,
have each a separate duty. Different nerves are neces-
sary to motion, leeling, and resistance, and there is no
example of confusion amongst them. Analogy, there-
fore, ia in favour of the concluaion that there are distinct
organa for observing, reficctizg. and feeling kindness,
resentment, self-love, &c. 2d, The mental powers do
not all come at once, as they would were the brain one
indivisible organ. They appear successively, and the
brain undeigoes a oonenionding change. Sd, Genius
varies iu dimtsnt individualB : one has a turn, as it is

337

OHAUBBRffS lOTOBMATION FOB THE PEOFLB.

called, for one thing, »nd another for lomething diffe-
rotit. 4rt, Drearu.iig i» explained by the doctrine of
distinct organ! which o»n act or rest alone. Itl die-
Jointed iniBKei and feelintti could never occur If the
brain acted a» a whole. Undivide<l, it muit either all
■leep or all wake: lo that titere could be no luch thing
M dreaiuiiifr. 6tn, Partial insanity, or madneii on one
point, with «anity on every other, proTe* the diitinotion
of organi, and their leparate action, 6lh, Partial in-
juriei of the brain, affecting the mental nianirestationi
of the injured narti, but learing tho other facultiei
•ound, proTe dlitinctireneii of organi. Vf>. There
could be no lUch (tate of mind at the fnin iar one
where our feelingi contend, and antagonise and balance
each other, if the brain were one organ.

These are grounds for presuming that the brain is
not single, but a cluster of orgatu, or at least that it
JH capable of acting in parts, as well as in whole. For
this conclusion the phrenologists have found satisfac-
tory proofs in repeated obscrvationg, showing that par-
ticular manifestations of mind aro proportioned, in
intensity and frequency of recurrence, to the size or
expansion of particular parts of the brain, and are thus
to be presumed to depend on those parts, This in a
law erery where seen affecting organic nature; a larj^e
muscle, tliu conditions of health, quality, and outward
circumstances being the same, has more power than
a small one. The same is true of a nerve. Dogs
have Tety large nerves for sni<>lling, eagles for seeing,
kc. A child's brain ?s smaller, and its mental power
weaker, than those of an adult. A very small brain
in an adult is the invariable cause of idiocy. A large
head mng be idiotic from cerebral disease, but a very
■mall head, from defect of size alone, is always idiotic.
Men of great force of character, such as Napoleon,
Franklin, Burns, &c. had brains of unusually large
•ize. Powerful energetic nations exceed weaker ones
in size of head, and invariably, when brought into colli-
sion with them, overcom t them. The average European
head is to the average lil'idoo as the head of a man
to that of a boy; hence the conquest and subjection
of a hundred millions of the latter by thirty thousand
of the former. The general law, then, being that size
of organ is accompanied by power of manifestation, we
proceed to inauire, secondly, if there are a\iy circum-
stances, and what these are, which modify this law. It
will be found that quality of brain is a modifying cir-
cumstance, also health of brain, and exereite of brain.

Phrenologists conjectured that different brains differ
in quality, but were long without any indications of
these differences. The doctrine of tho Temperaments
has thrown considerable, though not perfect light on
this point, and for this we are indebted to Dr Thomas
of Paris. There are four recognised temperaments,
accompanied with different degrees of power and acti-
vity — in other words, quality — of brain. These are the
bilious, the nervous, the sanguine, and the lymphatic.
The predominancs of these several bodily systems is
indicated by certain sufficiently obvious external signs,
whence our power of recognising them, as fully de-
■cribed under Animal Physioloov, Vol. 1. p. 125.

The brain must be in a health)/ condition to mani-
fest itself properly in the mental faculties. The phre-
nologist must therefore inquire into this circumstance,
as the external development docs not reveal it.

Exercise — or whether or not, and how, the brain has
been exercised — is another condition to be inquired
into before judging of two individuals similarly orga-
nised. The brain which has been the more and more
judiciously exercised, will, other things being equal,
manifest the greater degree of activity and power.

If size of organ implies vigour of function, it is of
great moment hi what region of the brain the organs
are largest — whether in the animal, moral, or intellec-
tual. On this preponderance depends the character.
Two brains may be exactly alike in size generally, yet
the characters may l)e perfect contrasts to each other.
For example, there is nearly as much brain in fig. '2
M in fig. I; yet &g. 1 it the head of M«laacthoo, the

most virtuous and talented of the reformen ; while
fig. 2 is th« atrocious criminal Hare, who murdered by
wholesale for gain. The superiority of fig. 1 in intellect
Is obTlous by one glance at the high and full forehead,

Fig. I.

compared with ' the forehead Tillanous low,' as Shak-
speare would have called it, of fig. 2. The horizontal
line in fig. 2 shows the shallowness of moral brain. A
line drawn from the same points in fig. 1 would show a
much greater depth; while the mass of brain behind
the ear in fig. 2, compared with fig. I, shows the pre-
ponderance of animal brain in the former.

PRIUITIVE FACULTIES OF MIND, AS CONNECTED WITH
TIIEIB GROANS IN THE BRAIN.

Mind, which was considered by the metaphysicians
as a single thing or essence, was said by them to bo
capable of being in different states, in each of which
states it made one of its various manifestations — as
memory, judgment, anger, &c. In no particular does
the phrenological hypothesis differ more from the
metaphysical than in this. The phrenological doctrine
is, that the brain, the organ of the mind, is divided
into various faculties, each of which has its own modes
of acting. It is accordingly held —

First, That by accurate observation of human actions,
it is possible to diR-riminate the dispositions and in-
tellectual powers of man— such as love, anger, benevo-
lence, observation, reflection, and so forth.

Seoondli/, That the true form of the brain can be
ascertained from the external form of the head ; the
brain, though the softer substance, being what deter-
mines the shape of the skull.

Thirdly, The organs or parts into which the brain is
divided, all of which organs are possessed by every
individual except in the case of idiocy, appear on the
brain's surface in folds or convolutions, somewhat like
the bowels or viscera of an animal, but have a well-
ascertained fibrous connection through the whole sub-
stance of the brain with one point at its base, called
the medulla oblongata, which unites the brain to the
spinal cord. Tho organs have thus each a conical form
from the medulla oblongata to the surface.

Fourthly, The brain is divided into two equal parts
called hemispheres ; on each side of the fosse or division
between these hemispheres the same organ occurs; all
the organs are therefore double, in analogy with the
eyes, ears, &c. But when the term or^an is used, both
organs are meant. The organs which are situated close
to ti.e middle line vertically drawn on the head, though
close to each other, are nevertheless double ; for ex-
ample, Individualitr, Benevolence, Firmness, &C.

Fifthly, Besides the brain proper, there is a smaller
brain, lying below the hinder part of the base of the
main brain, called the cerebellum,

Si-rthlyylhe brain, includingthe cerebellum, Is divided
into the anterior, middle, and posterior lobes. The cere-
bellum fonns part of the posterior lobe. The anterior
lobe contains all the intellectual faculties; the posterior
and lower range of the middle lobe are the regions of
the animal propensities; while the moral sentiments are
found to have their organs developed on the top or
ootonal region of the head.

en; whila
irder«"l hy
in intellect
1 forehewl,

PHBENOLOOT.

IT,' M Shak-

le horizontal
a1 brain. A
rould show a
brain behind
owl the pre-

TTKD WITH

[itaphyiicianB
r them to bo
ivch of which
'estations — as
articular does
)ro from the
gical doctrine
id, ii divided
ti own modes

iman actions,
ions and in-
gcr, benevo- ■

brain can be
head ; the
what deter-

the brain is
sed by every
uppear on the
omewhat like
have a well-
le whole sub-
base, called
brain to the
conical form

equal parts
or division
oi occurs; all
ogy with the
is used, both
situated close
head, though
ble ; for ex-
ess, kd.

is a smaller
e base of the

im, is divided
M. The cere-
The anterior
the posterior
she regions of
Eintinients are
n the to^ or

The nadatlon in size of the nrsans is denoted by the
generallly of phrenologists as follows: —

Very BmsU.

Hwlurato.

Rather Largo

flnialL

liutbor FuU.

Largo.

Rather Small.

Full.

Vory Largo.

''n practice, the general size of the head is measured
in several directions with calliper ooinpasscs. Twenty
males, from 2.5 to .50 years of af;c, measured, from tint
04;cipital spine (the bony knot over the hollow of the
neck) to the point over the nose between the eyebrows,
on an average, 7^ inches; some of them being as high
as B 2-8ths, and others as low as ()|. From the occi-
pital spine to the hollow of the ear, the average was
4 J; some being as high as .5, others as low as l)^. From
the hollow of the ear to the point between the eyebrows,
as above, average nearly A; some being ,5J^, others 4L
From the same hollow of the ear to the top of the head,
about an inch behind the centre (the orsan of Firm-
ness), the average was 5 O-lOths; some being G^, others
5^. Across the head, from a littli" below the tops of
the ears (from Destructivoness to Destructiveness), the
average was 5 O-lOths; some being (i^, others .5^. The
averages are in theae twenty in<liviuuals higher than
those of the natives of Britain generally, some of thom
being largo, and none small.

It ought never to be lost sight of that, in ('<it!mating
character from development, it is not legitimate to go
out of the same head, and compare any organ with the
same organ in another head. This will never ascertain
the effect of a particular d-^an in the head where it
exists; and for the plainest reason, that character is
another word for the most powerful organs, .is modified
by their neighbours in the same head. A virtuous per-
son may have the organ of Destructiveness absolutely
larger than a person r>>markable for a violent disposi-
tion; but it will be found that there are moral faculties
to control, or that there has been education to modify,
in the one person, and not in the other. In studying
phrenology, nowovor, different heads may be compared,
in order to observe where particular organs are abso-
lutely large, and where they me absolutely small.

We have said, the larger the brain, and of course
the head, the more the power. The old adage, ' Big
head little wit,' is often true, but not always. It is
true when, with a large brain, there is a lynipliatic
temperament, or when some damaging or deranging
circumstance has token place, to deprive the brain of
its natural power, or when the largeness is not in the
intellectual region. It ic to be remarked, however, that
even large animal brains have great animal power, in
spite of theii intellectual deficiency. A moderate-sized
head, of which the brain is chiefly in the anterior or
intellectual region, will have much more wit or clever-
ness than the other. Its power « ill be intellectual.

Phrenologisto further distinguish between power and
activilif in the mental faculties. Power, in whatever
degree possessed, is capability of feeling, perceiving,
or thinking; while activity is the exercise of power,
or the putting iito action the organ with more or less
intensity. An individual, for example, may possess
great power of destruction, and yet it may remain
quiet, and the individual be perfectly calm. Ilis large
Destructiveness, however, will be more prone to start
into activity than a smaller would. Activity is mea-
sured by the rapidity with which the faculties act.

The powers of mind, as manifested by the organs,
are called faculties. A faculty may be defined to be
a particular power of thinking or feeling. A faculty
has seven characteristics, in order to our concluding it
primitive and distinct in the mind — nameljr, 1. When
it exiets in one kind of animal, and not in another;

2. When it varies in the two sexes of the same species;

3. When it is not in proportion to the other faculties
of the same individual; 4. When it appears earlier or
later in life than the other faculties; 5. When it may
act or repose singly ; 6. When it is propagated from
parent to child; and 7. When it may singly preserve
nealth, or singly manifest disease.

DIVISION OR CLAISIFICATION OF THE VACULTIU.

The faculties have been divided by OaW and Spun-
heim into two great orders — Fkri.ino and IirriLLacT,
or Affectivb and Intki,i.kcti;al Faculties. The Feel-
ings are divided into two genera — the Proptntitit» and
the Sentiment*. Oy a propensity is meant au internal
impulse, which incites to a certain action, and no
itiore; b^ a sentiment, a feeling which, although it hai
inclination, has also an emotion superadded.

The second order of faculties, the Intellectual, aim
suffers division into the Perceptive or Knowing, and
the R^ective Faoultica. The Perceptive Faculties are
again divided into three genora — 1««, The External
Senses and Voluntarj/ Motion ; '2d, The Internal Powers
which perceive existence, or make man and animals ac-
quainted with external objects and their physical quali-
ties; and .'Ifi, The Powers which perceive (he relations
of external objects. The fourth genus comprises the
Reflective Faculties, which act on all the other powen;
iu other words, compare, discriminate, and judge.

We owe to Dr Spurzheim the names of most of the
faculties as yet in use; and they have only been ridi-
culed, on account of their novelty, by those who did
not perceive their logical accuracy. In all the pro-
pensities we find the termination ive to denote the
qualitv of producing — as Destructive. To this is added
the syllable ncss, to denote the abstract state. Instead
of >ve, the termination mta is found in the name of a
sentiment, with neis added — as ConscientiotM-ness — to
express the abstract quality. The names of the intel-
lectual faculties require no cxplanatidn. The arrange-
ment of the faculties usually adopted is that of Spurz-
heim, in the third edition of his ' Phrenology.'

The following is a representation of a bust of the
human head in four points of view — front, side, back,
ana tuji — with the organs marked by numbers: —

AFFECTIVE.

I.— Propensiiiss.

n.— Skktimbkts.

1. Amntivencss.

10. Sclf-EBteem.

2. l»hiloproj?cnitIvcnc«s.

11. Love of Approbation.

3. Inhabitivencss and Con-

li. CautiouBncsB.

ccntrativeness.

18. Benovolenoe.

4. Adhesivcnosa.

U. Veneration.

6. Combativencss.

16. Firmness.

0. DcstructivoncM.

16. Consotentloiisness.

[Alimcntiveness.]

17. Hope.

[Love of Life.]

18. Wonder.

7. Secretivcnoss.

19. Ideality.

S. Acquisitivenoas.

SO. Wit, orLudicroumoBS.

9. Conatructiveness,

SI. ImitaUon.

339

CHAMBEBS'8 lOTOBMATIOir FOR THE PEOFLB.

INTULKTVAI..

I,— P»lir«mv«.

n. IndlvlilualU}.
M. F(irin.
U. Hln).
M. WulKht.
M. C'ul(iiirinK.
»7. Lwullty.
US. Nuinbvr.

J1). OnliT.

SO. lOvonlimtltj-.

ai. Ttnitf.

M. Tunc.

33. LitnKii«KO.

It — ItHri.KCTIVK.

M. I'uiiipnruiin,

Zi. CuilaulU}'.

OIIDKR FinST.-FKKLINOS.
«iENi» I. — rnorKMniTiM.
The propciiiitie* here claMificd hikI deicrlljcil are
coiuuiou tu iiiau mid the luwor niiiinala.

No. 1.— AmnllrcncM.

This orgkn (No. I on the iriarkcd buit) Ii Bltuate<I
immediately over the nape uf the nock, and iilli up
the ipaco between the cur* behind, or rather between
the niRftoid procesNei, or projecting bones behind the
ean. It generally fonni a projection in thnt part, and
gives a thickness to the neck when it is large, and a
sparcness when inmll. The corcbellinn, or little brain,
ia, or at least contains, the organ of this propensity. It
waa Spurzhvim's opinion, that the fact that the cere-
bellum ia the organ of the amative propensity, waa
supported by a more overwhelming mass of evidence
than any other truth known to him. Although Aum-
tiveness is the only aacertaincd function of the cere-
bellum, it ia not impossible, from its size and struc-
ture, that it may include the organs of other functions;
but no others have yet been discovered.

It ia not necesaarv here to enter fully into the cha-
racter of this faculty. Aa the basis of the domestic
affections, it ia one of great importance, and ita regu-
lation has ever been one of the prime objecta of moral
ayatcma, lawa, and inatitutiona. Kor the evila and
calamitiea, often amounting to national, to which it
has occaaionally led in ita abuse, we need only refer
to hiatory. I)r Spunsheim held, with regard to thia
faculty, that, in education, a more candid and explicit
mode of treating it might be advantageoua ; and much
could be said iu defence of his opinion.

No. S.— Phllopmgenltlvcnosa.
Thia, in inan as well aa animala, ia the feeling of the
love of hia oflapring. It dependa on no other faculty,
aa reaaon or benevolence ; it ia primitive ; and in the
female, who, for wise reasons, is gifted with it most
atrongly, ita object, the infant, instantly rouses it to a
high atate of excitement. It is situated in the middle
of the back of the head, and when large, projccta like a
portion of an oatrich egg. See fig. 3. It ia amall in fig. 4.

Flg.».

Fig. 4.

It was discovered by Dr Gall from ita extreme protu-
berance in monkeys; and we have only to visit a zoolo-
gical garden to see how that animal cherishes its young.
AH naturalists are agreed in this as a quality of the
monkey species. The organ is one of the oaaieat to dis-
tinguish in the human head. Those who arc flat and
perpendicular there, instead of being delighted, are
annoyed by children. It ia generally amaller in males
than in females, though aometimea found larger ; and
men ao organiaed delight to carry about and nurse
children. The feeling gives a tender sympathy gene-
rally with weakness and helplcasness; and wo find it
often returned by the young themselves to the old
and feeble. It is essential to a soft kind attendant on
the sick, to k nurseir-maid, and to a teacher of youth.
WO

The moat aavago races muat have the impulse to pro*
tcct their young, or they would become extinct. Tha
organ, like the other cerebral organs, may bocnmo
diinaaed; and insanity on the subject of children may
bo I'uuiid in many asylums.

No. I.— Inhabltivoncu— Conoontratlvonosa.
The organ ia aituatcd immudintulv above the preced-
ing. Two of the most distinguished plirenologists, iSmirii-
holm and C'umbe, disagreed about tho function ot this
organ — at least about ita whole fuiiction. Dr (iiill did
not diacovcr ita function at all; and Dr Spurzheim,
obacrving it Inrge in |)eraona attached to their native
place, or any place in which they had long dwelt, called
It iH/tabUivtiuii, MrCombedoea not disallow to it this
function ; and certainly man has auch a faculty aa attach-
ment to place, often ao strong aa to render it impoasible
to move Kim from a particular s))ot by the most tempt-
ing inducements. The purposo of a faculty which
prumpta men to ullk inatead of roaming, which latter
nabit ia inconaistent with agriculture, commerce, and
civiliaation, ia obvious; notUtlgia, or home-aickness, is
the diaeaae of the feeling. Mr Combe claima for it,
however, a more extended aphere of action than love
of place — one, at the aame time, with which we have
alwaya thought love of place may bo reconciled. IIu has
obavrved the organ large in those who can detain con-
tinuuiialy their feelings and ideaa in their minds, while
the f'eelinga and ideas uf othera paaa away like tho
imagea in a mirror, ao t liut they are incapable of taking
aystematic views of a subject, or concentrating their
powers to bear on one point. The first claaa of per-
aona, in conversation, continue the aame subject till it
ia exhauated, and pass gracefully to another cuiincctcd
with it: it is painful to converse with the others, whose
unconnected thinking gives ua tho notion of what ia
vulgarly called tcatler-oraitu. \Ve muat content our-
aelvea with what ia here aaid, and refvi- tlio nailer
for proofs and arguments, on either side, to the works
of Mr Combe and Dr Spurzheim. The organ is stuluU
aa only probable, till further facta are obtained.

No. 4.— Adhcsivoncu.
Thia organ will be obacrvod on tho engraving of tho
marked buat to be aituated on each aiilc cif No. :t; a
little lower down than No. 3, but a little higher up
than No. '2, at the middle of the poaterinr edge of the
parietal bone. It waa discovered by Call, from being
found very large, and of the aame ahupo as on the bust,
in a lady remarkable for the warmth and stcadineua of
herfriendshipa; and waa observed in so great u number
of inetancea to accompany thia propcnaity, and to be fiat
or hollow in those who never formed attachincuts, that
he came to conaider it as demonstrated. It attaches
men, and even animals, to each other, and is the foun-
dation uf that pleasure which raankii.d feel, not only
in bestowing, but receiving friendship. Acting iu con-
junction with Amativcness, it gives constancy and
duration to the attachment of the married. Amativc-
ness alone will not be found aufficient for this. Hence
the frequent misery of sudden Move marriages,' as they
are called, founded on that single impulse. The feeling
attaches many peraona to pets, such as birds, dogs,
rabbits, horses, and other animals, especially when
combined with I'hiloprogenitiveneas. \\'ith thia com-
bination, the girl lavishea caresses on her doll and on
her little companions. Added to Noa. 1,2, and 3, with
which it ia in immediate contact and aacertaincd tibroua
connection in the brain, it completea what has been
called the domestic group of organs, or the love of
spouse, children, home, and the frienda of home, ai>
brothera, sistera, cousins, &c. The feeling is strongest
in woman. Her friendshipa, speaking generally, are
more ardent than nian'a. The faculty ia not kindnesa
or benevolence; it ia inatinctivc attachment, often felt
by thoae who are selfiah in everything else — selfish even
in their attachments. It is the faculty which prompts
man to live in society; and its exiatence ovcrtuma the
absurd theory of Rousseau and some others, that man

rUnENOLOGY.

pro.
lb*

nut.

ty bocoiiio

Idroii iu»y

he preccd-
iiU,S|iiini-
inn oi thil
Ir (iiill (lid
<purzhuiiii,
lieir iiativo
welt, called
IV to it thil
y M kttach-
impoiaiblo
toit tonipt-
iilty which
»hich latter
iiierce, and
sicknets, is
kiiiii lor it,
I than love
ch we have
led. llvha*
detaiu cuii-
iiiiida, while
ay like the
tie of taking
rating their
lass of per-
ibjcot till it
>r connected
itheri, whoM
[ of what is
iiontcnt imr-
' the ri'iiilcr
o the works
;iin is Btutcd
iucd.

aving of the
)f No. 'A; a
; hif^her up
cdj;c of the
, from being
on the bust,
Ktcudineas of
lit u uuiubcr
kiid to be Hut
lUicutH, that
It nttucbcs
is the foun-
:el, not only
iting in con-
istancy and
Aniativc-
his. Hence
gcs,' tts they
The feeling
birds, dogs,
cially when
this coni-
doU and on
and 3, with
jncd fibrou8
at has been
the love of
of home, aa
is strongest
merally, are
tot kindness
lit, often felt
-selfish even
ich prompts
vcrtums the
rs, that man

!■ io1U*ry, and thai mutual Interest alone brings men
to congregate with their fellow-men.

No. 8.— CombatlrsiMM.
The organ of this propensity is situated behind, and
a little upwards from, the ear ; anatomically, at the
posterior-inferior angle of the |>arietal bone. Comparo
He. A, which is an outline of the skull of (leneral
Wurmser, at the organ A, with tig. U, that of a Cin-

Organ, No, 1".

Vig. e.

the organ of
Ciiutiousiiess, to be afterwards treated of. In this the
ditl'eronce is reversed between these two hea<ls. Ur
Oall discovered the organ by a vast number of observa-
tions on the heads of individuals whom he observed to
be addicted to fighting. Dr Hpur/heim extended its
function to contention in general, whether physical or
moral. The condition of the physical world, full of
ditHculties and dangers, seems in itself to make it
necessary that man should possess n faculty giving the
linpuUe to meet boldly, and press vigorously through,
such impediments. In the mingled scene, also, which
forms the moral world, such an impulse is not less
needed. It is easy, therefore, to reconcile with our
ideas of Divine wisdom and goodness the existence of
this vehement quality of our nature, the true intent of
which is expressed in the well-known adage of the
Mantuan bard — • Ne cede mails, scd contra audentior
ito ' [' Do not give way to evils, but go the more daringly
against them']. A small endowment of this faculty
manifests itself in that over-gentle and indolent cha-
racter which is easily aggressed upon, easily repelled
by the appearance of difficulty and trouble, and which
naturally seeks the shades and eddy-corners of life.
To control and guide the propensity is one of the most
delicate, but also most important, duties of the educa-
tor. When Combativeness is deranged, we have a
violent and noisy, and often dangerous patient. The
organ is held to be established.

No. 8.— Dc9tructivcnc««.
This organ is situated on both sides of the head,
immediately over the external opening of the ear, ex-
tending a little forward and backward from it, and
rising a trifle alwve the top or upper flap of the »ar.
In fig. 7 the organ is large; iu fig. 8 it is small, '

1- iU. B.

arc many animate and inanimate things, and maiiV
institutions and social arrangements which, though
useful for a time, become in the end noxious, and re-
<{uire to be tlestroyud ; the organ under notice appear*
to be that which is commissioned to do this dutv. It
prompts beasts and birds of prey to keep down the re-
dundant breeds of thii lower animals, and disposes matt
to ' kill ' that he may ' eat.' It dictates the demolition
and clearing nway of obstructive objects of all kinds,
and prompts I.uthors and Mirabeaus to the extermina-
tion of bud systems. Anger, resentment, and indigna-
tion in all their shapes, likewise spring from this fa-
culty. Ht Paul indicates its leKitiinuto exercise in thii
class of its manifestations, in the words ' lie ye angry,
and sin not.' A small endowment of this faculty is
one of the elements of a ' soft ' character. Person* *o
organised seem to want that which gives momentum
to human oi>erations, like an axe wanting in back
weight. Those, on the other hand, who have a large
endowment of Destructivoness, are generally marked by
an energetic, and probably fierce and jtassionate cha-
racter. If uncontrolled by moral feelings naturally
strong, or cultivated into activity by education, they
re apt to bo violent ai.d vindictive.

AUmentivoneiis— tovo uf I.ifi-.

Some of the rjcent phrenological works treat in this
part of the ordei jf the faculties, of a faculty of Alimen-
ti :no88, and "Iso of anot'.'^r whicl. follows— namely,
Lo\eof Life. The first ' 'jii\g yet no more than jn-o-
bable, and the second oi _ conjtclural, they hava no
number allotted to tfa' ; - ii the bust.

Alimentivenesa is tL I'tsire of, or appetite for, food.
In this feoli< T, as such, the stomac' ' not concerned:
its functior .i, . strictly confined ti, •• a reception and
digestion oi our bod. Uut that the mind is concerned
in our desi • of lood, is proved by many circumstances.
Were desire anywhere but in the brain, there could le
no permanent character in individuals — as the glutton,
the epicure, the abstemious. Satisfied that appetite
is a mental faculty, phrenologists have long been look-
ing for its organ. Dr Iloppe of Copenhagen was the
first to observe in those who manifested remarkably
the gouriua'.d or glutton a fulness in front of Dcstruc-
tivcness, in ihe fossa zygomalica, between the top of the
ear and the temple. Its place is marked by a crois t
on the side view of the bust. Many phrenologists have
confirmed this by observation, so that the organ may
now be said to be advanced from conjectural to probable.

The self-preservation involved in the love of life is
certainly not accounted for by any known organ or
combination of organs. Cautiousness is fear of injury,
fear of death; but it is not love of life. This feeling is
powerfully manifested by some when their life is in no
danger, but who look upon the close of life as a very
great evil. Others are so inditt'ercnt on the subject, a*
scarcely to care whether they live or die, but for the
disagreeable effect the contemplation of death has upon
their other faculties — such as leaving children unpro-
vided, &c. Mr Combe thinks that the organ is situ-
ated in the base of the middle lobe of the brain, and
that its development cannot be ascertained during life.

Gall discovered the organ by comparing the skulls of
carnivorous with those of graminivorous animals, and
afterwards by observing the same prominence in those
of several murderers sent him for examination. Though
generally considered as giving the impulse to kill and
destroy, in man this propensity is shown to have,
under the control of the higher sentiments and iptel-
lect, a legitimate sphere of exercise. Tho.se rough-
nesses and difliculties in the physical world which have
been shown to call for the exercise of Combativeness,
that man may not sink under them, also appear to lall
for a faculty which may prompt to the destroying or
repressing of them, so that the way may be cleared fur
the future. The annoyance* and trouble* of the moral
world call in like manner for a faculty which may be
ftlwayi ondearouriog to put ui eud to them. There

No. 7.— Seerctivenoss.
The organ of this faculty will be observed by it*
number on the bust, to be situated immediately above
that of Destructivcncss, at the inferior edge of the
parietal bones, or iu the middle of the side of the brain,
Dr Gall observed this fulness in one of his companions
remarkable for finesse and cunning, and for bis sly ex-
pression, lie observed it in another companion whose
gait and manner were those of a cat watching a mouse.
The first companion was honest, and only deceived for
sport; the other, however, being deficient in moral re-
straint, turned out perfidious, and deceived his com-
panions, his tutors, and his parents. An immense
number of observations confirmatory of the soundness
of Dr Gall's conclusions have led phrenologists to re-
gard this organ as established. The legitimate use of

CHAMBEBS'S IKFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

the faculty ii to exeroiM that control over the outward
manifeetatioD of the other facultieg which is necessary
to a prudent leserTe. Without it, and of course in those
in whom the orgau is small, and the manifestation weak,
the feelings express themselves too plainly. Such indi-
viduals ara too open and unsuspecting, and often all
good taste and propriety are lost sight of by them in
the exposure of their feelings. We may consider se-
oretiveness as an instinct to conceal the feelii:g? or
thoughts, till reason shows it to be prudent tc declare
them. This control evidently was not left to 'reason
alone, whose judgment would have proved too slow for
the end intended. Concealment is given to animals to
enable them both to avoid and to prey upon each other.
In abuse, the faculty leads to lying, hypocrisy, and
fraud. When acting with Acquisitiveness, it forms the
thief, cheat, and swmdler. The organ is subject to dis-
ease, and the cunning insane are difficult to deal with.
Disease here leads to the belief in plots and conspiracies
formed against the patient, so common with the insane.
The manifestations of Secretiveness ought to be watched
in education, and carefully regulated ; and the maxim
impressed, that cunning is not wisdom.

No. 8.— A>.quiaitivencsB.
The organ of this faculty is situated farther forward
than, and a little above, Secretiveness, at the anterior-
inferior angle of the parietal bone. Theeristence of
a cerebral organ for the desire of property, bearing a
proportion in size to the degree of that desire, decides
the question of the feeling being a primitive aniihal

Sower, and not, as Hutcheson, Stewart, and Brown
ave held it, the mere result of calculation, wealth
being the means of gratifying all our other inclinations.
Man feels as an animal before he rear -^ns. Lord Kames,
whom the regular metaphysicians of his time considered
as admitting too many faculties, takes, by sagacious
anticipation — as he did when he recognised a hunting
and killing propensity in man, phrenologically Destruc-
tiveness — the phrenological view of Acquisitiveness as
primitive, and calls it ' the hoarding appetite.' Th4S
theory of it alone explains the miser's desire to accu-
mulate, without ever putting his wealth to the use re-
quired by the metaphysicians above named, the pur-
chase of enjoyment, the gratification of the other facul-
ties. The faculty of Acquisitiveness could not, and no
faculty could, be given to man by his Creator for
any mean, grovelling, and immoral purpose ; accord-
ingly, when we consider it aright, we recognise in
it the dignity of the greatest utility. In a word, it is
the faculty through whose impulse man accumulates
capital, and nations are rendered rich, great, and
powerful. Without the faculty, man would be content
to satisfy his daily wants, although even in this he
would fail ; but the surplus which, under the impulse
of this faculty, he contributes to the store of wealth
which accumulates from generation to generation,
would not exist. Under proper regulation, then, the
faculty is of the greatest value to man; by meand of it
he ' gathers up the fragments, that nothing may be
lost.' Excessive pursuit of wealth is, however, an
abuse of the Uiaxur, and too much the vice of civi-
lisation, when J .vdvances, as it lias hitherto done,
without adequate moral improvement.

The organ is often diseased; so that those who are
insane in this faculty, without any temptation arising
from their circumstances, which are often above want,
and even pionperous, pilfer everything of value, and
often of no value, whicl comes in their way. Again,
many incorrigible thieves in lower life, on whom the
punishments of the law fail to have auy effect, are
diseaaei' in this organ. Phrenology thus demonstrates
that many supposed criminals are in truth patients,
and ought to be treated as luch.

No. v.— CoDstructivoncss.

The situation of this organ is ii. the fore part of the
temple'., at the frouval bone, above the spheno-temporal
•uture. It if lomotimei found higher up than its uiual
U'i

position; but a little practice familiorisei the obserrer
with its appearance. The faculty of which this organ
is the instrument, is the power of mechanically mak-
ing, and constructing, by changing the forms of matter.
Many of the inferior animals possess it ; as the bee,
birds, and insects. Some savages have it in such small
endowment, as never to have built huts or made clothes,
or even the simplest instruments for catching fish.
Such are the New Hollanders, in whom the organ ap-
pears very slightly developed. Drs Gall and Spurzhcim
verified this organ by a vast number of instances — in
mechanicians, architects, designers, Kulptors, and even
painters. Metaphysicians do not. recognise a primi-
tive faculty of Constructiveness, but consider mechani-
cal skill to be the result of reason. This is an error
which the ilightept observation contradicts. Were it
true, say the advoc. ''.es of phrenology, the most saga-
cious animals would be the most constructive; yet the
horse, the dog, the elephant, never construct; while the
bee, the beaver, and many birds and insects, perform
works by this instinct which excite our wonder. Very
young children, long before reason coultl assist them,
have manifested proficiency in making models, draw-
ing, cutting with scissors, &c. Even idiots are often
skilful constructors, witness many of the Cretins of the
Alps. Intellect is, however, important to the range,
variety, and application of human Constructiveness ;
while the Constructiveness of the inferior animals is
limited to one invariable result.

The use of this faculty is obvious. Physical nature
consists of raw material, in scarcely any instance fitted
for the convenience and accommodation of man. Coa-
structiveness prompts him to form and fashion ; and he
continues to do so, advancing — which the inferior ani-
mals never do — from building the rude wigwam and
making the stone-hatchet, up to achieving the palace,
the steam-engine, aud the spinning machine.

GENUS II.-SENTIMENTS.

Mr Combe introduces this branch of the subject
thus: — 'This genus of faculties embraces certain feel-
ings which correspond to the " emotions " of the meta-
physicians. They differ from intellectual perception
in being accompanied with a peculiar vividness, which
every one understands, but which it is impossible to
express by any verbal definition. They may be excited
by the presentment of the external objects naturally
related to them, as danger is to fear, or august appear-
ances to reverence, or by the spontaneous activity of
the organs. Dr Spurzhoim has named these faculties
Sentiments, because they produce an emotion or feeling
of a certain kind, joined with a propensity to act; but,
as shown in the Appendix No. II., the detail of his
classification i^ here by no means accurate. Several
j{ them are common to man and the lower animals ;
others are peculiar to man. The former, styled the
Inferior or Lower Sentiments, shall be first treated of.'
The argument referred to by Mr Combe in his appen-
dix, is an abridgment of a paper by Mr Robert Cox,
in the * Phrenological Journal' (vol. x. p. 154), in
which ho endeavours to show that, on the one hand,
several of the propensities are accompanied by emotions,
as well as inclinations to act, and on the other, several
of the sentiments have likewise both qualities.

I. SENTIMENTS COHMON TO HAN AND THE LOWEIl ANIMALS,
No. 10.— Self-Estcom.
The situation of this organ is at the top of the back
of the head, at the centre ; forming, as it were, the
curve or turn between the back and top of the head.
When it is large, the head rises far upward and
backward from the ear, in the direction of the organ.
It is large in fig. !), and small in fig. 10. The legiti-
mate use of the faculty of Self-Esteem is that degree
of self-complMoncy which enhances the pleasures of
life, and which gives the individual confidence in his
cwn powers, and leads him to apply them to the best

PHBXKOLOOT.

adraota^. It is MmetimM called proper pride, or
ielf-re«^t, in which form it aids the moral eenti-
mente m resisting temptations to vice and self-degra-
dation: this is called being above doing a criminal^ a

tig. 9. Fig. 10.

vicious, or a mean action. Its deficiency renders an
individual too humble, and the world take him at his
word, and push him aside. In large and uncontrolled
endowmet.., it produces great abuses, and causes much
annoyance and often misery to others. In children it
is pettidhness, frowarduess, and self-will, and produces
disobedience. In adults it gives arrogance, superci-
liousness, and selfishness. In nations, the feeling shows
itself in national pride and boasting. This produces
contempt of other nations, and leads to international
jealousies and hatreds, the origin of almost all the
wars that hare disgraced and desolated the world,
Self-Esteem occupies the individual so intensely with
self, that hi, is- insensible to all interests but his own;
everything is seen by him through the medium of self.
The first thought, when a proposal is made, is, ' How
will this afl^ect mei' Love of Approbation is often
useful by subjecting the individual to some degree of
dependence on the opinion of others, to moderate the
intensity, the ezclusiveness, of Self-Esteera. Without
this counterpoise, the self-esteeming person becomes a
self-erected standard of opinions, manners, and morals.
Discussions of character, with vilifying remarks, come
from a large Self-Esteem, and that want of candour and
fairness which is the result of an inferior endowment
of Conscienti—isness. Envy, which includes hatred, is
Self-Esteem rousing Destructiveuess ; with deficient
Benevolence and Conscientiousness, the envious could
injure a fortunate individual merely because of his
better fortune. It is a modification of invidiousness,
although directed against things, and not persons, to
afiect to undervalue everything one sees — in other
words, never to seem pleased — m order to reap from
this petty exhibition a fancied consequence, eztrem'.-
ly gratifying to a large and active Self-Esteem. A
large development of the organ renders its possessors
what is called touchy — impatient of reproof, and irri-
tated by it, however just, as if it were a positive
injury. A tmaU endowment of the faculty is exceed-
ingly rare,

Self-Esteem has a marked natural language. When
powerful, the h<;ad is carried high, and reclining back-
wards, an attitude well known to stage kings and
lords. The manner is cold, haughty, and repulsive;
and two self-esteeming persons meeting, repel each
other like the contrary pc es of magnets. Dr Keid and
Mr Stewart acknowledge this sentiment under the name
of the Desire of Power. Dr Thomas Brown calls it
Pride. It is evident that these are narrow and partial
views of the feeling — one or two only of its manifes-
tation!. The organ and feeling are apparently pos-
sessed by some of the inferior animals, such as the
turkey-cock, peacock, horse, &c. Lord Kames observed
that the ' master-oz ' must have the lead, else he will
not work. Self-Esteem is found insane perhaps more
than any other faculty, and then shows itself in eztra-
vagant notions of self-importance. Such maniacs are
kings, emperors, and even the Supreme Being. The
organ is generally larger in men than in women; and
mote men ue iiuaae horn pride than women.

No. 11.— L^Tve of ApprolMtlon.
This organ is situated on each side, close to Self.
Esteem, and commences about half an inch from the
lambdoidal suture. It gives, when large, a marked
fulness to the upper part of the back of the head.
The faculty is the desire of approbation, admiration,
praise, and fame. Its legitimate function is regard
to reputation and character, and it gives the senti-
ment of shame. It is an excellent cuard upon morals
as well as manners. The loss of character, to those
largely endowed with this feeling, is worse than death.
If the moral sentiments be strong, this sentiment will
desire honest fame, and in the line, too, of the pre-
vailing faculties — as poet, painter, orator, warrior,
statesman. The love of glory is a passion with many,
and has deluged the world with blood in all a^es.
The decorations, orders, stars, garters, of civilisation,
and the tatooin^, nose-boring, and pluming of savage
life, all spring from Love of Approbation. When the
propensities predominate, the vain man will be pleased
to be thought the best fighter or greatest drinker among
his acquaintance. A due endowment of this faculty is
essential to an amiable character. ' It gives,' says Mr
Combe, 'the desire to be agreeable to others; it is the
drill-sergeant of society, and admonishes us when we
deviate too widely from the line of march of our fellows;
it induces us to suppress numberless little manifesta-
tions of selfishness, and to restrain many peculiarities
of temper and disposition, from the dread of incurring
disapprobation by giving offence; it is the butt upon
which wit strikes, whbn, by means of ridicule, it drives
us from our follies.' What the world will think and
say, is uppermost in the mind when Love of Appro-
bation is too strong. A youth in whom it is powerful,
cannot do this thing or the other because everybody
will look at him, or wonder at him. The young are
extremely sensitive on this point, esp icially in relation
to those of their own age. The a' .monitions of the
parent or teacher are nothing with t) em in comparison
with the jeering of their companiocj. Ridicule is in-
tolerable to a large Love of App- elation at any age.
Hence the poet's thought, 'the world's dread laugh
which scarce the stem philosopher can scorn,' Com-
bined with Self-Esteem, it creates the impression that
the world are all busy thinking of us, instead of them-
selves; which last is the truth. This excess of the
feeling subverts all independence. The opinion of
others is the unhappy individual's rule of morals, taste,
religion, even philosophy. As this faculty, and that of
Self-Esteem in abuse, are the cause of much evil,
both to the individual and others, education ought to
endeavour to moderate their activity.

The faculty, unless kept in subordination by a verr
large and vigilant Conscientiousness, prompts to all
the conventional insincerities and flatteries of society,
from the dread that the truth will offend Self-Esteem,
and draw down on the teller of it disapprobation.
When Secretiveness is large, and Conscientiousness
small. Love of Approbation is profuse in the unmean-
ing compliments of society. These compliments many
people scorn only when applied to others, but take
more complacently when addressed to themselves;
their Self-Esteem supporting them, and persuading
them that these compliments Aav0 a meaning, and value
too, when they are the objects of them. Much of the
acutest suffering of life consists in nothing else but
wounded Love of Approbation,

Shamelessness is the effect of the want of this faculty,
often observed in criminals. It is a great defect in
character; the individual is beyond the salutary go-
vernment of the feeling; he cares not for the opinion of
others, and laughs equally at their censure or approba-
tion. The educator finds this negation very difficult
to deal with, inasmuch as one engine, with which he
might otherwise legitimately work, is useless to him.
His pupil will not draw by Love of Approbation. This
defect aids the impud^ t, who have a purpose to serve.
Their importunity is m boundless and untiring. No

OHAMBEBS'S INI*OBUATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

rcpulies affect thain, no indignitiea touch them, so long
M abiolute personal violence ia not applied to their in-
trusioni. The Mush is the natural language of shame
— one of the feelings of powerful and sensitive Love of
Approbation. The organ is oftener found insane in
tromen than in men, as in women it is more active than
in the other sex generally. The patients whose Love
of Approbation is diseased, are not solemn, haughty,
and irascible, like the monarchs of Self- Esteem. They
are generally in a bustle of aisplay, overpowering the
listener with details of their merits, their talents, their
works, and even their beauty.

No. IS.— Cautiousnoss.
The organ of this faculty is situated about the middle
of the parietal bone on both sides. Dr Gall discovered
it by first observing the prominence large in two indi-
Tiduals who positively harassed him with their doubts,
fears, hesitations, and precautions. When he observed
this cerebral mark for the peculiarity, he confirmed it
by numberless subsequent observations. No organ is
more easily observed than Cautiousness. It is evident
to the eye as well as to the hand, and there is none of
which the concomitant mental feeling may be predicted
with greater confidence.

It has been said that fear is the fundamental feel-
ing of this faculty: we 4oubt this. Fear is a disagree-
able afl'ection of the facultv, for it is one of its feelings,
and we are- disposed to think that the disagreeable or
painful is not the root of any of our faculties. We are
not necessarily conscious of the feeling of fear while
we are taking the most circumspect precautions for our
safety, and it is just when we have taken these precau-
tions that fear is excluded. In our opinion, Cautious-
ness expresses the feeling better than Fear. The words
foresight or circumspection are too intellectual for it ;
for it does nut foresee or look around ; it merely feels
blindly, and stimulates the intellect to take the means
of insuring safety: its motto is, * Take care.' It is an
important element in prudence, which places the indi-
vidual on his guard, and warns him not to bo rash in
his moral, as well as his physical movements. In gene-
ral, the organ u large in children — a wise and benefi-
cent provision for their self-protection.

Tho symptoms of a very large endowment will be
timidity, fears, and even imaginary terrors, especially
in dreams. The organ is often diseased, and then pro-
duces causeless dread of evil, despondency, and often
suicide. In the heads of suicides the organ is usu-
ally large, and Hope deficient, Destructiveness also
being of course large. Persons with the organ diseased
will often shrink, as if the house were about to fall
over them, »r a bridge under them. Those who do not
distinguish feeling from thinking, Jmamne that such
persons may be reasoned into a dismissal of their fears,
on being shown that they are groundless; but if, as is
demonstrable, the feeling results from a portion of
brain being positively diseased, it would be as rational
to attempt to reason a person out of the pain he suffers
from a bo<lily wound or sore. . u effect of fear, or
sudden and violent excitement of Cautiousness, in pro-
ducing mental derangement, and all sorts of nervous
disease, is well known. Practical jokes, harmlessly
intended to frighten, have often fearfully overshot their
aim, and produced lasting insanity.

II. SUPKHIOB 8E.<«TIMENT8, PllOPER TO MAN.

We have hitherto considered the faculties which
phrenologists descri))e as common to man and tho lower
animals; we are now to treat of those superior senti-
ments which they consider as peculiar to man. The
organs of these sentiments lie in the superior region of
the brain. That they are all of them entirely wanting
in animals, is an opinion which the phrenologists will
yet, probably, have to reconsider; but we deem it best
in the meantime to follow tho generally received
view. It may only be remarked, that while the con-
rolutions of the brain which form Veneration, Con-
■cientiousness, and Hope, are not found in animals,
844

traces of the oonrolutions forming Benevolence and
Imitation do appear; and these two last are the powers
of this class with which it seems most likely that ani-
mals are endowed.

No. 13.— BanevoIenc&
The organ of this sentiment is situated at the upper
part of the frontal bone, immediately before the fon-
tanel, in the middle of the top of the forehead, where
it turns to form part of the top of the head, or coronal
surface. It is easily distinguished ; and when large
(see fig. II), gives a round elevated swell to that region.
When the organ is small (fig. 12), the forehead or top-
front is low, flat, and retreating. We cannot blame the

Fig. II.

Fig. IS.

unfortunate individual so organised, seeing that he
did not make himself; but we are so constituted as
instinctively to shrink from him, as deficient in one of
the chief ornaments of Luman nature — the faculty of
kindness and brotherly love.

The faculty of Benevolence gives more than com-
passion for, and a desire to rs^ieve, sufi^ering; it gives a
wish that others should be positively happy; prompts
to active, laborious, and continued exertions ; and,
unless Acquisitiveness be very large and powerful, to
liberal giving to promote its favourite object. It differs
essentially in its charity, * which suffereth long, and is
kind,' ' and vaunteth not itself,' from that which springs
from Love of Approbation. Yet to this last selfish
faculty how often is it necessary to appeal when funds
are wanted for benevolent purposes I Hence the pub-
lished lists of subscribers' names ; hence, too, the appeals
to other selfish faculties by balls, plays, &c. for contri-
butions to relieve suffering, as if it were to be charmed
away by dancine and music. The Samaritan's conduct
was pure benevolence. The faculty, like sunshine, lights
as well as warms the whole of social intercourse. Those
who have the organ small are not on that account cruel ;
for cruelty is the result of a positive faculty — Destruc-
tiveness : they are merely indifferent to others' suffer-
ing, so that their Destructiveness meets with no check.
Hare the murderer was an example. He required no
effort, no drowning influence of liquor, as even the
wretched Burke did, to steel him against tho cries and
struggles of his victims. See hie head, fig. 2, con-
trasted with a benevolent development, fig. 1. Bene-
volence is the chief ground of an individual's popu-
larity; when added to integrity and talent, it renders
a public man justly an idol. The martial fame of
Henry IV. of France has descended in the mild com-
pany of the history of his benevolence; and his memory
is yet, after nearly three centuries, dear to the French
people. The air that bears his name is the first they
call for in their theatres. Unregulated by Conscien-
tiousness and Intellect, Benevolence degenerates into
abuse, and becomes profusion and facility. Such an
endowment gives indiscriminate alms, without reflect-
ing that it is thereby probably encouraging fraud and
crime. AVhen Conscientiousness is weaker than Bene-
volence, we see the individual generous before he is just
— making expensive presents, and leaving his trades-
men unpai''. Benevolence often coexists with Destruc-
tiveness, although this has been denied as an incon-
sistency in nature. How many individuals known to
us are at once kind-hearted and haaty and irascible I

No. 14.— Vunoration.
The organ of this faculty occupies the centre of tho
coronal region just at the fontanel — the centre of the
top of the head. It was discovered by Dr Oall in tho

PHRENOLOGY.

pious and devout; and h very obvious in the bald head
of the monk of real sentiment and not of mere interest.
The function of the faculty is the sentiment of venera-
tion, or deference in general for superiority, for great-
ness, and goodness. Its highest object is the Deity.
It is remarkable in how many instances the painters of
sacred subjects have given large development of this
organ in the heads of their apostles and saints — no
;^:Jji because the pious individuals whom they would
naturally select as studies for such characters possessed
the organ 1 .rge. Veneration has no especial object : it
finds appropriate exercise with regard to whatever is
deemed mperior. One man may venerate what another
treats with indifference, because his understanding
leads him to consider that particular object as superior,
while his neighbour deems it upon his own level, or
beneath it. But any man with a large endowment of
the organ will have a tendency to consider things as
superior : he will be naturally disposed to look up, and
not to look down. Self-Esteem is a positive faculty
opposite to Veneration. The one prompts to a regard
for, and appreciation of, self ; the other to a regard for,'
and appreciation of, others, or something above self.
He in whom there is much Veneration, with a moderate
or defective Self-Esteem, will always be disposed to
think well of what other persons do, and to put him-
self under their guidance and advice, which he will
scrupulously follow, although his own understanding
might have suggested better courses. Veneration is
the basis of the feeling of loyalty: it is a main element
in such political parties as the Jacobites of England
and the Carlists of France. AV'e see it irrationally exer-
cised in the savage with regard to his idols of stone
and wood, and in civilised society with regard to the
mere idea cT rank unattended by worth. It is, on the
other hand, rationally exer-'ised with regard to persons
of real excellence, and those who have been invested
with important functions for the benetit of society.

Veneration, having the Deity for its highest object,
forms an element in the purest and most exalted reli-
gious feeling, liut while there can be no perfectly
pious man without it, we are bound to admit that indi-
viduals are often found passing for very fair veligious
characters, in whom Veneration is by no means conspi-
cuous. Such show little reverence or care in the handl-
ing of Divine things, and often address the Deity in
their prayers in a style calculated to shock others by
its familiai-ity. So liable is the organ of \'^eneration to
disease, that devotional exaltation is well known to be
one of the most common forms of insanity. The re-
ligiously insane abound in the asylums. Drs (jall and
Spurzheini adduce many examples, and in nil of them
the organ of Veneration was found large.

No. .15.— Firmness.
The organ of this faculty occu]>ie8 the top of the head,
behind Veneration, in the middle line. It is a faculty
of peculiar character. Dr Gall held that it was neither
an inclination nor a power, but a maniere d'etre — a mode
of existing or being firni, resolute, and determined.
He who is deficient in the faculty is the sport of cir-
cumstances and impressions. Dr Spurzheim says that
Firmness is apt to be mistaken for Will, because those
that have the organ large are prone to say ' I will,'
and ' I wont,' that being the natural language of de-
tennination ; but the feeling is quite different from what
is properly called the Will. It gives fortitude, con-
stancy, perseverance, and determination ; and when too
powerful, it produces obstinacy, stubbornness, and in-
fatuation. The organ will be found large iu obstinate
and intractable children. Firmness has no relation to
external objects; its influence is within the mind, and
adds a quality of endurance to each or all of the other
faculties. For example, it renders Combativeness de-
termined bravery ; Conscientiousness inflexible inte-
grity; and so with others. \\'ith Self-Esteem it renders
the individual absolutely impracticable. The want of
it is a great defect in character : it is unsteadiness of
purpow. Fig. 13 ii (hat of the head of a lady who had

several hruiei taken becaUM the could not dttermint in
which she should live : her Conscientiouiness (marked
16) will be observed large, and this feeling she mani*
fested by faithfully and punctually paying the rents of

I'ig. 13.

l-ig. 14.

them all. The English soldier has more of Firmnera
than the French, although in courage and spirit they
are equal. The organ is large in the torture-enduring
American Indian. In fig, 1 4 it is small; in 13, large.

No. 16.— ConscientiousneBS.
The organ of this sentiment is situated on each side
of the organ of Firmness, between the latter organ and
that of Cautiousness. Dr Spurzheim discovered the
organ, and thereby incalculably benefited mental and
moral science. Previously, metaphysicians differed in

•■" aense — a primi-

itice. liobbes

< selfish calcu-

jnlluenced by the

. no better than a

laced the standard

opinion as to the existence of a
tive instinctive feeling of truth
and Mandeville held justice to I -
lation. Even Paley considered it
hope of eternal reward, and there
selfish calculation. Adam Smith i
of moral approbation in sympathy, Hume in utility,
Clarke in the fitness of things; while Hutcheson, Cud-
worth, Kames, Reid, Stewoi-t, and Brown all contend
for a faculty which produces the sentiment of right
and wrong, independently of all other considerations.
Without this faculty, the sentiments which guard, or
rather constitute, morality, would be incomplete. Be-
nevolence prompts to kindness, and is offended with
cruelty; Veneration induces piety, and is shocked with
blasphemy; but neither of these faculties gives the
perception or feeling of obligation, duty, incumbency,
truth — in a word, justice. When, however. Conscien-
tiousness is superadded, the defect is supplied, and
morality completed — that morality which Scripture
recognises in the precept ' to do juathj, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with tforf.'

Conscientiousness gives the emotion of justice, but
intellect is necessary to show on which side justice lies.
The judge must hear both sides before deciding, and
his very wish to be just will prompt him to do so. This
faculty regulates all the other faculties by its rigid
rules. It says to them, * thus far and no farther, or
you will do injustice.' Benevolence and Veneration
themselves require its guardianship, to prevent the one
from running into generosity without justice, the other
into bigotry, fanaticism, and persecution. Conscien-
tiousness not only curbs our faculties when too power-
ful, but stimulates those that are too weak, and prompts
us to duty even against strong inclinations. To culti-
vate it in children is most important. No organisation,
however favoumble, compensates a want here ; yet
phrenologists are forced to confess that it is not the
largest organ in the great majority of brains, and hence
the injustice that is, silently, as well as openly, at work
in society. The training of it by practical exercise
in infant education is explained in the volume on
' Infant Education ' in Vhamben's Edxiealimial Course.
Conscientiousness not only prompts to honesty and
truth, in opposition to common fraud and falsehood,
but, more delicately still, renders the individual who
<s blessed with it in large measure candid and fair in
his judgments of the conduct, opinions, and talents of
others. It pays debts, keeps appointments, performs
promises, and gives a beautiful consistency and trust-
worthiness to the whole conduct, which secures the re-
spect, and when blended with Benevolence, the love, of

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE PBOPLE.

kll within the mnn of iti influence. Without Benero-
lence, i^ it apt to be too severe and itringent. When
Conioientio iineis is weak, or when, m happens in per-
fectly * lutnett ' and * honourable ' people, in the broad
sense of these terms, it is not soinetbing more than
average in its power, the defect will run through the
whole conduct and judgments of an individual. We
often hear people complaining that a particular friend
is * uncertain.' This word expresses concisely the de-
fect of Conscientiousness above described.

The existence of Conscientiousness as an indepen-
dent element in the human constitution, renders
intelligible many supposed inconsistencies in human
conduct — that a man, for instance, will be kind, for-
giving, even devout, and yet not just. ''■ is a great
mistake with regard to those who, after u.j,ay years of
■anctimonious professions, are detected in 'lishonest
acts, to say that they must have been . II alur^g mere
hypocrites. It is quite possible thai n>an,r uf their
religious feelings and convictions may ^-ave been sin-
cere, but only insufficient in force to compensate for
the lack of direct Conscieniiiousnee^. Conscientious-
ness gives remorse when the individual has been
tempted to sin. The organ is larger in some nations
than others. It is larger generally in Europeans than
in Asiatics and Africans; very generally it is deficient
in the savage brain. It evidently grows in civilisation;
indeed, it constitutes an essential of civilisation. The
organ is often fou:.d diseased, and the insanity con-
sists in morbid self-reproach, imaginary debts, and
unfounded belief in merited punishment.

No. 17.— Hope.
The organ of this faculty has its place on each side
of Veneration, partly under the frontal, and partly
under the parietal bone. It was discovered by Spurz-
heim, but never admitted by Gall, who considered
Hope as a function oi every faculty that desirei. To
this Dr Spurzhciiu answered, that we desire much of
wrich we have no hope; a criminal on the scaffold in-
tensely desires life, but has no hope of it. Dr Spurz-
heim considered Hope a faculty sui generii, producing
hope, in general, of good, or gratification to the other
faculties; and, by careful observation in nature, found
the organ in the situation juat described. It seems to
have been given to man to make him happy. It pro-
duces gaiety and cheerfulness, looks on the sunny side
of everything . and paints the future with bright colours.
When not regulated by the intellect, H:pe leads to
rash speculation, and, in combination with Acquisitive-
ness, to gambling, both at the gaming-table and in the
counting-house. It tends to render the individual
credulous, and often indolent.

No. 18.— Wonder.
The organ of this faculty is situated on each side of
that of Benevolence, with one other organ, that of Imi-
tation, interposed. Vt UuU discovered it by observing
it large in the seers of visions and dreamers of dreams,
and in those who loved to dwell on the marvellous.
Persons with th« fr'^ulty powerful are fond of news,
especially if striking and wonderful, and are always
expressing astonishment; their reading is much in the
regions of the marveiious, tales of wonder, of en-
chanters, ghosts, and witches. When the sentiment is
excessive or diseased, it produces that peculiar fana-
ticism which attempts miracles, and with Language
active, speaks with unknown tongues. It draws the
ignorant and fanatically-inclined, who have the organ
large, with ease by its pretensions; hence the numerous
followers of Johanna Southcote. Thom, and Edward
Irving. Mr Combe savs of the last — ' I examined
his head before he was established bm a preacher, and
when his peculiarities were unknown, and observed
that the organs of Wonder and Self-Esteem were very
large. They gave a tinge to his whole public life. The
organ* of Benevolence, Conscientiousness, Veneration,
Mid Intellect were also amply developed, lo that he
ponessed the natural elementt of the Chiietiaa dut-
846

racter in great strengi,h, but their direction wai ren*
dered unprofitable bv the predominance of Wonder
and Self-Esteem.' The general function of the organ
is held to be ascertained, but the metaphysical analysis
if still far from being perfect.

No. 19.— Ideality.

The organ of this faculty is situated farther dowa,
but close to that of Wonder, along the temporal lidge
of the frontal bone. Dr Oall discovered it in the b ists
and portraits of deceased, and in the heads of a great
number of living, poets. This confirmed to him the
old classical adage, that the poet is bom, not made ;
in other words, that his talent is the result of a primi-
tive facultjr. Dr Uall called it the organ of Poetry.
Dr Spurzheim Lorrected this, and gave it the elegant
name it now beam; which has, as well as others of
the expressive names of the phrenological organs, been
adopted into ordinary language.

The faculty delights in the perfect, the exquisite, the
beau-Ueal — something beyond the scenes of reality —
something in the regions of romance and fancy — of the
beautiful and the sublime. Those writers and speakers
who possess it large adorn all they say or write with its
vivid inspirations. It is the organ of imagery. The
sermons of Chalmers owe much of their charms to it,
and the organ was very large in his head. Shakspeare
created such beings as Ariel, Oberon, and all the ima-
ginings of the ' Tempest ' and ' Midsummer Night's
Dream,' under its influence. The faculty renders con-
versation elevated, uiiimated, and eloquent.

Nature abounds in beauty and splendour to gratify
Ideality — a proof of pure beneficence in the Creator;
for it is a pleasure of unmixed gratuity, if we may so
speak: man might have been created without it; but
Divine goodness superadded that, the most exquisite,
to his other enjoyments. The organ is small in crimi-
nals and other coarse and brutal characters, for it is
essential to refinement. It prompts to elegance and
ornament in dress and furniture., and gives a taste for
poetry, painting, statuary, and architecture. A point
of interrogation is placed on the bust on the back part
of the region of this organ, conjectured to be a different
organ, but one allied to Ideality. Some phrenologists
have considered it the organ of the Sublime, from its
touching on Cautiousness, which the grand, at least the
terrific grand, in some degree affects. A writer in the
' Phrenological Journal' suggests the love of the past as
its function. The existence of the faculty of Ideality
demonstrates that the sentiment of beauty is an original
emotion of the mind, and settles the controversy in
which Professor Stewart, Lord Jeffrey, Dr Brown, and
others took a part, as to the origin of our perception
of beauty. The organ is held as established.

No. 20. — Wit, or the Ludicrous.

The organ of this faculty is situated before, and a
little lower than that of Ideality. When large, it gives
a breadth to the upper region of the forehead. In the
portraits of Stcmc, his forefinger is represented resting
on this angle of the forehead, which in him was very
large, and the mental manifestation powerful.

The j)hronological writers have discussed at great
length, and with not a little controversy, the metaphy-
sical nature or analysis of this faculty. We do not re-
quire tofollowtheni into this inquiry, as most of them are
agreed that by means of this fiiculty we see and enjoy
the ludicrous, and experience the emotion of laughter.
Man is the only laughing animal, and the impulse and
its result are too well-marked characteristics noi to be
the manifustatioiis of a special faculty. Dr Beattie't
theory is the most satisfactory of any — that the objects
of the ludicrous are incongruities, with a certain mix-
tu/e of congruity. When this organ is lai^e^ the in-
dividual both enjoTb and creates the ludicrous, and
is apt to give a ludicrous turn to everything that
passes through his mind. For the discussions in which
Mr Soott, Mr Watson, and Mr Schwartz of Stockholm
hare taken a part, ae well a* for the opioioni of Qall,

(HBENOtOOT.

Spunheim, and Combe, We mult refer to Mr Combe'i
' Syttem' (4th edition, p.4l6). We mayobserre that Mr
Scott and Mr Ilewett Wataon consider the organ No. 20
us that of an intellectual, and not an affective faculty,
Mr Scott yieiTB it as the faculty by which we discriminate
or obserre differences; and this, by much ingenious
reasoning, he id inclined to hold to be the function of
a different faculty from that by which we perceive re-
semblances. Mr Watson thinks the function of No. 20
is to investigate what may be called intrinsicalities —
the intrinsic nature of things. Mr Combe thinks the
facts adduced by Mr Watson make it probable that
there is a faculty for this power, but that it ii not
No. 20. Dr Spurzheim unsettles both Mr Scott's and
Mr Watson's theories anatomically, by showing that
the portion of brain is in the same region with Ideality,
and is therefore the organ of an affective, and not on
intellectual faculty. Jie farther holds, that, the same
faculty which perceives resemblances perceives diffe-
rences; and both he and Mr Combe, observing that all
those who deal largely in the ludicrous have the Organ
20 large, conclude, that \i -vtever may be the object or
objects of the ludicrous i nature — whether something
specific, like colour or od>/ur in a rose, or some condi-
tion of things, which in themselves are not necessarily
ludicrous — there is a mental sentiment or emotion which
excites to laughter. No. 20 is the organ essentially
of this emotion, and so far they hold it established.

No. 21.— Imitation.
This organ ix situated on each side of that of Bene-
volence. Dr Gall found the protuberance accompanied
by instinctive, and often irrepressible mimicry. The
purpose of the faculty is to enable the young to learn
from the more advanced, and keep a convenient uni-
formity in the manners and externals of society. Cele-
brated players always possess it largely, and by it imi-
tate the supposed manner, and even fuui the sentiments,
of their characters. The Imitative arts depend on this
faculty ; and its organ is found large, accordingly, in
painters and sculptors of eminence. What a fund of
amusement and delight comes from the group of facul-
ties whose organs are all in this one region of the head,
well named * The Poet's Corner' — namely Ideality,
Wonder, Imitation, Wit or the Ludicrous, Time, and
Tune' The faculty of Imitation has been recognised
lu a state of disease when the impulse to mimic is be-
yond the individual's control. I'ine! makes mention
of an idiot girl who was affected in thid way. Par-
rots, monkeys, and the mocking-bird imitate and
mimic. The last-mentioned often attracts other birds
by the cries of their own kind ; and then waggishly, as
it were, scares them away with the cry of some bird
they dread. The organ is' established.

ORDER SECOND.— INTELLECTUAL FACULTIES.

By these faculties man and animals perceive or gain
knowledge of the external world, and likewise of their
own mental operations. The object of the faculties is
to know what exists, and to perceive qualities and rela-
tions. Dr Spurzheim divided them into three genera :
— 1. The External Senses ; 2. The Internal Senses, or
Perceptive Faculties, ~whic^ procure knowledge of ex-
ternal objects, their physical qualities and relations ;
3. The Reflecting Faculties.

OUNUS I. — EXTERNAL SENSES.

By these, man and the inferior animals are brought
into communication with the extenial material world.
Much metaphysical acumen has been wasted, and much
nonsense written, about the senses. Before phrenology
discovered internal faculties, of which the senses are
the ministers — they themselves giving only passive im-
pressions called sensations, but forming no ideas — the
senses were considered the gole sources of our know-
ledge. They are necessary to that knowledge, but
would never of themselves have completed it. By each
tense we discover some quality of material nature.

The tenses, as generally received, are five in number—
Touch, Taile, Smell, Hearing, and SigiU. There are cer-
tainly two more — namely, the uiue of Hunger and
Thirit, and the Muscular Sense, or that by which we
feel the state of our muscles as acted upon by gravita-
tion and the resistance of matter. Without this last
sense we could not keep our balance, or suit our move-
ments to the laws of the mechanical world. Dr Thomas
Brown conject'. red this sense many years aco, and Sir
Charles Bell has thrown much light on it oy proving
that separate roots, afterwards joining in one apparent
nerve, but evidently being two, gave muscular motion
and muscular sensation. For further information on
this subject, see the preceding sheet.

OENUS II. — INTELLECTUAI. FACULTIES, WHICH FROCURB
KNOWLEDGE OF EXTERNAL OBJECTS, OF THEIR FUfH-
CAL QUALITIES, AfID VARIOUS RELATIONS.

These faculties correspond in some degree with the
perceptive powers of the metaphysicians, and form ideas.

No. 22.— Individuality.
The organ of this faculty is situated in the middle of
the lower part of the forehead, immediately above the
top of the nose. It takes cognisance of individual exist-
ences — of a horse, for example. Othor knowing facul-
ties respectively observe the form, colour, size, and
weight of the horse, but a faculty was necessary to
unite all these, and give the individual idea of a horse.
It furnishes the substratum which has form, colour,
&c. — an old desideratum of the metaphysicians. Indi-
viduality is the storehouse of knowledge of things that
simply exist. It is often large without being accom-
panied by reflecting power; when this is the case, the
individual has been compared to an encyclopeedia, full
of facts, but unable to reason from them. All the ob-
jects of Individuality are noun substantives. Verbs and
adjectives are the perceptions of other faculties to be
afterwards noticed. As Individuality merely observes
existences, without regard to their modes of action, it
is the faculty i>f the naturalist. Those who possess it
large and active, observe the minutest objects; nothing
escapes them, and they remember even the minutest
objects so well, that they will miss them when taken
away. On the contrary, those who have it small, ob-
serve nothing, and give the most imperfect account of
the objects which have been in their way. In the
artist, the faculty gives great minuteness of devtvil, and
with Imitation and Form, great power of hitting like-
nesses in portrait-painting. The faculty prompts to
personification of abstract ideas — as Fame, Envy, Wis-
dom, Folly. The organ is established : the metaphy-
sical analysis of the faculty requires farther inquiry.

No. 23.— Form.
This organ is situated on each side of, and close to,
the crista galti, and occupies the space between the
eyes. In those who have it large, the eyes are wide
asunder, and vice versa. Dr Gall discovered the organ
in persons remarkable for recognising faces after long
intervals, and although perhapt onlv once and briefly
seen. The bust of George III. furnishes the best ex-
ample in the Phrenological Society's collection ; and it
is well known that he never forgot a face. Townsend,
the famous ISow Street officer, hml the same talent, one
most essential to his ofiice. As every material object
must have a form, regular or irregular, this faculty was
given to man and animals to perceive forms, and they
could not exist without it. When large, it constitutes
an essential element in a talent for drawing, but re-
quires Size and Constructiveness to perfect the talent.
Forms are capable of great beauty, and of affording
much pleasur-:, and in nothing more than in the human
figure. Many ])erson8 who have the organ of Form
large, connect their words and ideas with forms, and
these often fanciful and of their own creating. Mineralo-
gists and crystallographers generally possess this power
in large endowment. The celebrated Cuvier c yed much
of hit tuccets in comparative anatomy to hit large organ

817

CHAMBERS'S INFOBUATION <i/B THE PEOPLE.

of Form, Decandolle iC.^niioni, that * hi* (Cuvier'*)
memory was particu'irly remarkable in ivhat related
to fon?H, considered ii. the wideit tw :e . f that word;
thn figaro of an animul eeeii in reality or in drawing,
neTer left hi» mind, and gerred him oh a poMii of com-
pariion for all similar objects.'

No. i4.— Size.
Erery object has sizo or dimension. Hence a faculty
is necessary to cognize this quality. The supposed
organ is situated at the inner extremities of the eye-
brows, where they turn upc.i the nose. A perception of
Size is important to ourmokemonts and ictions, and
essential to our safety. There is no accuruc/ in draw-
ing or perspcctiTe without this organ, ."'r George
Mackenzie thinks that the faculty cf Size, as it cognizes
dimension of every kind, whethei '<ii length, breadth,
thickness, height, depth, or distance, is that faculty
whereby we perceive space in K<>ncral, analogous to the
faculty of Time, by which we perceive time. Different
individuals raanifist different degrees of the ji.;w'.t of
perceiving size. Some seem not to possesB the power of
«8tii)iatiii.«; distance or dimension, while others can Jr.iw
acirt'f w^l,(lout compasses, and find the centre of oue
already 'irawn with the greatest accuracy.

Ko. 25.— Woljjut.
\Vei('!)t Si a quality of matter qiiite distinct from all
itb oilifT quuiities. ^ ho k i^rht of anv material oV>ject
is only another imme fV;r ;'-■■ ut^ree of gravitating icji •
dency — its nttriictibilii) ti the en'th. A power to pei-
ceive the different degree i ♦' this siH'HCtiou is Ga:it!iitial
to man's movements, safety, wiJ sv>:.'. aKi8te!i-'t;. There
must be a iiiculty for that j;ei, o[-tio.i, ftiu! that faculty
must have a cerebral instrun.ei •■ : r organ, i'hrcnolo-
giUH have generally liioaliso'l (.iiii oeanu ii. the super-
orbi.'ur ridge or eyebrow, iiuiiicdiately luxt to Size,
and U' "ther from tnc top tif the nose. But as yet the
function of the Orgmi '25 has given rise to so much
discussion, as to leave it far i'rom certain what that
precisely is. Mr Combo sayA, ' Persons who excel at
ari-hery and quni'n, and also tiiose who find great faci-
lity in judging oi momentum and resistance in me-
chanics, are observei) to possess the parts of the brain
lying nearest to the irgan of Size largely developed ;
and the organ is noft^ regarded as probable. Persons in
^rhora Individuality, Size, Weight, and Locality are
la>7.(0, have generally a talent for engineering, and those
brbt>> S::8 of mechanics which consist in the application
of for: 'i; they delight in steam-engines, water-wheels,
and turning-lathes. The same combination occurs in
{lersons discinguishcd for successful feats in skating, in
which the regulation of equilibrium is an important
element. Constructiveness, when Weight is small, leads
to rearing still-fabrics, rather than to fabricating work-
t-i^^ machinery.' Mr Simpson has given much attention
to this faculty (' Phrenological .lournal,' vol. ii, p. 41*2),
and opened up some original views for discussion in
the phrenological world ; a new chapter, a'i Mr Combe
calls it, in the science of mind, ile cites a number of
noted mueha'.iidMit and engineers in whom the Organ
2.5 is large. In tlM|||^ik«f James Watt it is particularly
prominent. ChiloBD wh^ Walk early and steadily have
uniformly the oi^gan large, and the inference was drawn
that the faculty gives the power of preserving equili-
brium, or that balance of forces which is essential to the
applicatiou of animal power, and even to existence.

No. 86.— Colourinfr.
As every object nmst have a colour in order to be
visible, it seems necessary that there should be a
faculty to cognize this quality. The organ is the
next outwards from Weight in the eyebrows, occu-
pying the precise centre of each eyebrow. A hollow
there, into which the end of the finger could be put,
or such a flatness in the ridge of the eyebrow that
a perpendicular line dropt from it would pass through
the eyeball, has, times without number, been found
to be accompanied with a want of power to discrimi-
348

nate colours, oflen to a ludicrous extent. The organ ii
large in great painters, especially great colourists, and
gives an arched appeanuice to the eyebrow ; for ex-
ample, in Rubens, Titian, Rembrandt, Salvator Rosa,
Claude Lorraine, and others. A large endowment of
the organ gives great delight in flowers and brilliant
colouring of all kinds. Nature has profusely provided
for the gratification of this faculty, by the exquisite
colouring in which her works are dressed. Some meta-
physicians consider the pleasure we derive from colours
to be the result of the associiiti(.;t ni lUdits. ^'hrenology
has discovered that it is the grvitt cif^tttic ition of i't\
organ forming part of oui •'onstHution. i,ii»ii th«l of
Ideality, the pleasures wi> iJtriv, ft.>;K Colour are ^'W-
tuitous goodness from the Cvebki ^ i:ands,

No.97.--tccaMty.
Dr Gall was !.il to the '.»l;~co*'er/ »f thii fiicuU;- au
pii'iiitive by coni]~aring his own difficulties with a uom-
panioii'ii facilities, in finding iheir way through the
wot,<l>;, where they hnd pl&cud snares for birds, and
mar!«3il ' <-.'-ts, when lituuying natural history. Every
material ^•oject must exist in <iome part of space, iind
that part of sptioc becomes place in virtue oi" be <te bo
occupied. Object!' them.se' vjs are cognized by Jixiividu-
ality; but tl >;ir plac<i, tii; iliri:r;tion where thej Ii'!, tl'e
way to them, dejn id on another far\ih), /■ 'roulty ^Ivcn
for that purpose. \\ ithou^ su'li a pc t; men uxd
animals must, in jsltuaticiis where objects \rcro nuiiie-
rous and complicated iu t):e'.r i>n^'u]ens, as woods, have
lost their way. No man could find his own home, no
bird its own nest, no mouse ita own hole. The use of the
faculty will be rendered plain by considering what it ia
we do when we wish to remember our way through the
streets of a large city; we note particular objects, build-
ings, for example, and observe how they stand in relation
to each other, and thc.M! relations we can remember,
although with a faint recollection of the forms of the ob-
jects themselves. The ^.'.^an is large in those who find
their way easily, and vi^i'.iI'y remember places in which
they have been. It materiuUy aids the traveller, and
is supposed to give a love for travelling. The organ
was large in Columbus, Cook, Park, Clarke, and other
travellers. Geometricians, whose study is the relation
of spaces, have the organ large— ^as was the case with
Kepler, Galileo, Tycho Brahe, and Newtor., The fa-
culty, when active, prompts the individuals to localise
everything, &ad think of it as iu its place.

No. 88.— Number.
The organ of this faculty is placed at the outer ex-
tremity of the eyebrows and angle of the eye. It occa-
sions, when large, a fulness or breadth of the temple,
aT^d often pushes downwards the external corner of the
eye. When it is small, the part is flat and narrow
between the eye and the temple. Their Number is a
very important relation or condition of things, and re-
quires a distinct perceptive power. Our safety, and
even existence, may depend on a clear perception of
number. Dr Gall called the faculty ' Le hens de Norn-
bres,' 'The Sense of Numbers,' and assigned to it not
only arithmetic, but mathematics in general. DrSpurz-
heim more correctly limits its functions to arithmetic,
algebra, and logarithms; geometry being the exercise,
as already shown, of other faculties. Dr Gall first
observed the organ in a bov of nine years of age near
Vienna, who could multiply and divide, mentally, ten
or twelve by three figures, in less time than expert arith-
meticians could do with their pencils. Dr Gall adds,
' he had created his own method.' An advocate of
Vienna regretted to Dr Gall that his son wafi so much
engrossed with calculating, that he attended to nothing
else. Dr Gall compared the heads of these two boys,
and found no particular resemblance but in one place
— that described above — where they exactly agreed.
Dr Gall then went to noted arithmeticians — among
them an author of tables of logarithms — and found the
same organisation. Many other examples will be found
iu the phrenological writings.

PHRENOLOGY.

No. SO.— Order.

The organ of this faculty is placed ia tLe eyebrow,
between Colouring and Number, and ii large and pro-
minent, and often pointed like a limpet-shell, in those
who are remarkable for love of method, arrangement,
and symmetry, and are annoyed by confusion and irre-
gularity. The marked love of order in some persons,
and their sutfering from disorder, are feelings which
uo other faculty, or combination of faculties, seems to
embrace. Several cases are mentioned in the phreno-
logical books, where it characterised idiots, deficient in

almost everpr other faculty. Mr L , a late medical

gentleman in Edinburgh, was remarkable for the organ
and itn manifestation. He was pointed in his engage-
ments — for the faculty gives this important habit —
neat and careful in his writings, regular in his accounts,
precise in his dress, and cleanly in his person. In
savages, whose habits are slovenly, filthy, and disgust-
ing, the organ is co'xparatively small.

No. 30.— Eventuality.

The organ of thi" faculty is situated in the very centre
of the forehead, and . hen large, gives to this part of the
head a rounded promiiience. Individuality has been
called the faculty of nouns; Eventuality is the faculty
of t'e)'6«. The first perceives mere existence; the other
motion, change, event, history. All knowledge must
be of one or the other of these two descriptions — either
things that are, or things that happen. In the following
examples — the man speaks, the wind blows, the day
dawns, the nouns cognized by Individuality are printed
in capitals; while the verbs, addressed to Eventuality,
are in italics. The first is simple existence ; the other
is action, event, history. Dr Gall distinguished, as the
metaphysicians do, verbal memory, local memory, real
memory. It is now phrenological doctrine that all the
intellectual faculties have their own memory. Form
remembers forms ; Colour, colours ; Size, dimensions ;
Individuality, objects; and so on.

The most powerful knowing minds have a large en-
dowment of both Individuality and Eventuality;, and
such individuals, even with a medium refiecting orga-
nisation, are the clever men in society — the acute men
of business — the ready practical lawyers. The organ
of Eventuality is generally well developed in children,
and their appetite for stories is well known. Those,
however, in whom Eventuality is moderate, and Indi-
viduality large, are prompted less to listen to tales
than to ' see things,' as they call the exercise of their
more powerful faculty. In after-life, the latter will
observe minute existences — will tell how many nails
are in a door, and miss one if taken out before their
next inspection. The former will make use of inci-
dents when they wish to recall any matter of memory.

No. 31 — Time.
Whatever be the essence of time as an entity, it is a
reality to man, cognizable by a faculty by which he ob-
serves its lapse. Some persona are called walking time-
pieces; they can tell the hour without looking at a watch ;
and some even can do so, nearly, when waking in the
night. The faculty also marks the minute divisions of
duration, and their relations and harmonies, which are
culled time in music, and rhythm in versification. The
impulse to mark time with the head, hands, feet, and
whole body, is too common, too natural, and too strong,
not to be the result of a faculty; it is the impulse to
dance, almost universal in both savage and civilised
man. In bome, the impulse, when well-marked time
is offered — the better if combined with music, though a
well-beat drum may be danced to — is often irresistible.
It exists in a diseased state, for we have seen dancing
madmen. Dogs, horses, and many other animals give
plain indications of possessing the faculty, by their
conduct on the return of particular days, occasions, &c.

No. 38.— Tunc
The organ of this faculty is situated still farther out

than that of Time, giving • foundneia to the point
where the forehead turns to fonn the temples. It ia
large in great musicians; and when small and hollow,
there is an utter incapacity to distinguish either me-
lody or harmony. Music nioy be defined as a species
of natural language, depending immediately on either
a melodious succession or a harmonioui unison of
tones — tones, again, being distinguished from simple
noises by a peculiarity in the mode of their production.
(See Acoustics, Vol. I.) The organ of Tune in the
human brain appears to have been constituted in rela-
tion to these physical facts; and in cases of good en-
dowment, to have a most exact perception of all their
niceties, and a power of using them to the production
of the species of natural language which we term music.
Cases of a low endown'ent of the musicul faculty, or of
persons said to wan*- musical ear, are of frequent occur-
rence, though pe-.naps in many such instances early
culture would have brought out some trace of the
faculty. The great bulk of mankind possess the organ
in a moderate endowment, so as to be capable of en-
joying music in some degree, f he individual possess-
ing it in high endowment becomes, in all stages of
society, a distinguished artist, exercising a peculiar
power over his fellow-creatures, so as to rouse, melt,
soothe, and gratify them at his pleasure. But the gift,
in this active form, is liable to be much modified ac-
cording as it is accompanied by Ideality, Benevolence,
Wit, and other faculties.

• No. 33, — Language.

When the faculties are in activity, either singly or
in combination, the impulse in almost all individuals is
strong, in many irresistible, to communicate to others
the feelings or thoughts produced by them. This may
be done by signs, which is natural language, or by
words, which constitute conventional. A faculty is given
to man and animals which connects feelings with signs
and cries; but to man alone is given articulate speech.
The comparative facility with which different men
clothe their thoughts in words, depends on the size of
this organ, which is situated on the super-orbitar plate,
immediately over the eyeball, ond when large, pushes
the eye outwards, and sometimes downwards, produc-
ing in the latter case a wrinkling or pursing of the
lower eyelid. There is no fluent speaker deficient in
this organ. There is some doubt of the faculty giving
the power of learning languages, and the spirit of lan-
guages in philology ; the prevailing opinion is, that
the faculty of Language has less to do with this power
than Individuality, Imitation, and some other faculties.
Learning the words and structure of other languages
is quite a difierent thing from applying our own to
express our thoughts and feelings.

None of the organs have been better proved to be
primitive by diseased manifestation than this. The
instances are numerous of persons losing the power
of finding words for their thoughts, and recovering it
again ; and in many of these coses, the brain in the
organ when examined after death has been found dis-
eased. I'ain in the region often; AOOQlupanies the loss
of appropriate speech, in plagW, lit|ow and typhus
fever. But wc must ref^ ftii^nir^K Information on
this interesting subject, to the woil^i on phrenology,
especially to Mr Combe's * System.*

Internal E.\citcmcnt of the Knowing Organs—
Bpuctral Illusions.

The Knowing Organs are for the most part called
into activity by external objects, such as fonns, colours,
sounds, individual things, &c. ; but internal causes
often excite them ; and when they are in action, objects
will be perceived which have no external existencj,
and which, nevertheless, the individual will believe
to be real. This is the explanation of visions, spectres,
and ghosts, and at once explains the firm belief of
many that they have appeared to them, and the fact
that it never happens that two persons see the same
spectres at the same time. We formerly remarked,

349

%■

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

when treating of Wonder, th»t exccw or diieMe in that
orsait predispose* the patient to believe in the niar-
veTlou* and lupematural, and probably itimulatea the
Knowing Organs into action, when spectral illusions are
the consequence, A jroun.? lady known to Mr Siinp-
•on, and mentioned in the phrenological books by the
initials of S. L., lived in indescribable horrors for above
A year, in cunsoquence of the visits of the spectral
forms of persons and other objects, and the perception
o.' bright lights, brilliant colours, music, and other
ilK'sioiis. At tho time of these false perceptions, she
was strangely affected in the organ of Weight and
the sense uf Resistance ; she lost the power of preserv-
ing her balance, and saw perpendiculars and horizon-
tals at other angles. She coniplaiuod of sharp pain
when her visitants appeared to her; and although igno-
rant of phrenology, and oven the situation of the organs,
she put her Anger and thumb, when asked where she
felt the pain, to the organs of Form and Individuality.
For several weeks these were the site of her pain ex-
clusively; and then the figures which appeared to her
were /urm» without colour, resembling, as she stated,
cobweb. Here plainly was I<'orra active, but Colouring
dormant. Homo weeks after this her objects became
naturally coloured, and the pain extended along the
eyebrows, including the organ of Colouring, Embrac-
ing, as the progress did, (size, her illusions referable to
that organ in morbid activity were singular : she saw
objects sometimes gigantic, sometimes dwarfish, and
even minute. The pain proceeding onwards along the
whole eyebrows. Order and Number became affected,
and her visiters came in great numbers and most an-
noying confusion, so that sometimes they seemed to
tumble into her apartment like a cascade, a confused
mass of persons, limbs, heads, kc. Her apparitions
began at lost to speak to her, and her terrors were much
aggravated. It was probable that the organs of Lan-
guage and Tune became affected ; for she often heard
bands and choruses of music. Wt may add that she
was greatly relieved when the true nature of her spectres
was explained to her. In time the affection left her
entirely. It is likely that the proximate cause of these
morbid manifestations was an undue determination of
blood to the region of the head where the Knowing
Organs ore situated.

GKNU8 III. — BKPLECTIVE FACULTIFS.

The Intellectual Faculties already considered give us
knowledge of objects, and the qualities and relations of
objects, also of the changes tney undergo, or events.
The two remaining faculties, according to Dr Spurz-
heim, * act on all the other sensations and notions ' —
that is, they judge of the relations of different ideas or
classes of ideas produced by the Knowing Faculties.
They minister to the direction and gratification of all
the other faculties, and constitute what by excellence
i» called reason — in other words, reflection.

No. 8i.— Comparisop.
Dr Oall discovered the organ of this faculty in a man
of science wh(dAU||B|^chiefly by means of analogies
and comparist^^^lP^HMby logical deductions. He
iiliutraled eveH^^Ha^HPurierl his opponent along
with him withlMI|P||^memblanoe8, concluding that
the thing disputed mutt be true, being like so many
things that arc known to be true. In his head was a
fulness in the fonn of a reversed pyramid, just in the
middle of the upper part of the forehead. The faculty
perceives analogies and resemblances. Every faculty
can compare its own objects. Colouring can compare
colours; Weight, weights; Form, forms; Tune, sounds;
but Comparison can compare a colour with a note, or a
form with a weight, &c. Analogy is a comparison not
of things, but of their relations. Dr Spurzh^m thought
that the faculty. perceives difference. Mr Scott dissents
from this, and attributes that function to the faculty
of Wit. The preci.w fundamental function of the
faculty is yet controverted. Mr Hewett Watson argues
ineeniouily, and Mr Comb« assents to the argument,
WO

that it is the perception of conditiont, of the condition
in which obiecti exist. As the organ of analogies, simi-
litudes, and comparison of ideas, it is eitablithed.

No, so,— CauHklltr.
This is the highest and noblest of the intellectual
powers, and is the last in the phrenological analysis of
the faculties, Dr Spurzheim so named it from believing
that it traces the coimection between eauie and ^ect,
and sees the relation of ideas to each other in respect
of necensary cnnxeipience. Its organs are situated on
each side of Comparison. Some metaphysicians have
held that wo have no idea of cause, but see only sequence,
or one thing following another. It is true that we do
see sequence. When, for example, fire is put to gun-
powder. Individuality perceives the existence of the
powder and of the match ; Eventuality sees the motion
which unites them, and the change or event which
takes place in the explosion; but we nave a third idea —
namely, that of power, agency, or efKciency, existing in
some way in the cause, to produce the effect. Whence
do we got this third idea 1 — from a third or distinct
faculty, and that is Causality. With a powerful per-
ception of cauMlion, the individual reasons from cause
to efl'ect by logical or necessary consequence. It is the
faculty which sees principles and acts upon them, while
the other two faculties only '. •/ experiments. Resource
in dilficultics, and sound judgment in life, are the
result of powerful Causality. The organ is established.

Adaptation of the External World to the Intellectual
Fuculties of Man.
We quote the following passage from Mr Combe's
' System ' (4th edition, p. 6!>3) ; — ' The human mind and
the extenial world having emanated from the same
Creator, ought, when understood, to be found wisely
a<lapted to each other; and this accordingly ajipears in
an eminent degree to be the case. If the reader will
direct his attention to any natural or artificial object,
and consider, ]»l. Its existence; '2d, Its form; 3c/, Its
size; 4th, Its weight ; 5th, Its locality or relation in space
to other objects; 6th, The number of its parts; 7th, The
order or physical arrangement of its parts ; tith. The
changes which it undergoes; 0th, The periods of time
which these require (we would add here, its soiuid-
producing quality or sonorousness, as quite different
from all those enumerated) ; iOth, The analogies and dif-
ferences between the individual object under consi-
deration and other objects; llM, The effect which it
produces ; and lastly, If he will desir. aXe this assem-
blage of ideas by a name, b" will und that he has
obtained a tolerably complete notion of the objtct.'
We may odd, that the relations between the affective
faculties or feelings of man and the moral world are
not less harmonious ; and demonstrate design iu a
manner altogether irresistible.

llelation between the Functions and the Structure of the Brain.
An accumulation of facts which amounts to proof
as cogent as in to bo found in regard to any othrr
physical trui has connected with the anten-ior lobes
of tlie brain Uie Intellectual Faculties, and with the
middle and posterior lobes tho Feelings, The Intel-
lectual Faculties constitute the will of man, and in
obedience to the will are the voluntary motions. But
the feelings, when in activity, a» is well known, have
certain involuntary moixoTia conactted with them. Now
the spinal cord has tvi/o columns — the one, the anterior,
observed to produce motion, and therefore called the
motor]) tract; and the other to produce sensation, and
therefore called the sensory tract. These two tracts
join the brain by what is called the medulla oblongata;
and here a most striking distinction takes place. The
niotory tract alvne communicates with tne anterior
lobes, in which, in the intellectual organs, resides
the will. Hence in voluntary motion, as an effect of
will, the motory tract obeys the anterior lobe alone; in
other words, the anterior lobe of the brain manifests
will, and the motoiy tract ixecukt will. The sensory

the condition
ftlogioa, aimi-
bUihed.

) intellectual
il analyui of
'oni believiiix
me and ^ect,
ler in respect
situated on
rsiciane have
nly sequence,
e that we do
I put to gun-
tence of the
IS tlie motion
event which
i third idea —
Y, existing in
ct. Whence
i or distinct
lowerful per-
is from cause
ce. It is the
I them, while
ts. Uesource
life, are the
I established,

toUeotual

Mr Combe's
an mind and
m the same
found wisely
\y appears in
9 reader will
ificial object,
'orm; 3d, Its
tion in space
rts; 7th,The
ts ; Hth, The
iods of time
, its Bouud-
ite different
gies and dif-
nder consi-
bct which it
this assem-
that he has
the objtct.'
;he afi'cctire
A world are
lesis-n in a

) of tho Bruin.
its to proof
any other
ttei-ior lobes
d with the

The Intel-
lan, and in
tiers. But
nown, have
;beni. Now
he iMiterior,

called the
sation, and

two tracts
; oblongata;
)lace. The
le anterior
.us, resides
m effect of
e alone; in
1 mani/eitt
The sensory

PHBElfOLOOT.

tract hai no oonnectlon F'.vh the anterior lobet or in-
tellectual organs.

Again, tho Mtmory tract has a fibrous connection with
the middle and posterior lobes of the brain, and with
the cerebellum, and most appropriately, for these are
the organs of the fetlingi, llut as the feelings have
involuntary motions when acting, these are provided
for by a fibrous connection between the organs of the
feelings and bolh the sensory and niotory tracts. Yet,
as the motions consequent upon the energy of passion
are not voluntary, bl<^ luaiinctive, we should expect a
separate m^t../ tract for instinctive motion, with
which, and not with the tract of voluntary motion, tlie
organs of the feelings should be connected. 'I'his dis-
tinction, however, has only been conjectuK it is not
yet ascertained, Mr Combe farther adds— ' ii is certain
that mental emotions exercise a powerful influence over
the organic functions: when the emotions are agreeable,
they stimulate these functions to healthy action and
when painful, they depress their energies and produce
liability to diseaec. Ueciprocally, wnen the organic
functions, such tis digestion, respiration, and secretion,
arc disordered, an irritable and distressing state of the
mental feelings is induced. The intimate relations
between the convolutions of the brain devoted to the
mental emotions, and the sensory tract of the s)/mal
cord, is in harmony with these facts. The habit of
contending with intelleolual diificulties, if unconnected
with feeling, does ' ?t injure the organic functions so
severely as do stn .g and powerful emotions ; but it
weakens the locomotive powers. Sedulous students of
abstruse problems acquire a great aversion to locomo-
tion. These facts correspond with the arrangen>ents
of structure by which the convolutions of the anterior
lobes, devoted to intellect, spring from the niotory
tract, and are not connected with the sensory tract of
the spinal marrow.' We are not aware that anato-
mical and physiological investigations hsve unfolded
facts more interesting than those now detailed,

Natural Language of the Faculties, or Fathognomical nntl
I'hyBiognomical Expression.

What has been stated in the preceding section will
prepare the reader for the fact, that, by means of in-
voluntary motions, each organ of feeling produces
movements, attitudes, and expressions peculiar to it-
self. The chief aim of the dramatic actor and panto-
mimist is to study and represent ihef movements,
attitudes, and expressions; and hence such of them as
have studied phrenology, have declared that it affords
them the most valuable guidance. Dr Gall's * Physio-
logy of the Brain,' and Dr Spurzheim's ' Physiogno-
mical System,' enter fully into this curious subject, and
have ascertained the lawn which determine the natural
language of the faculties. It has been laid down as
the leading principle, that the instinctive motions arc
always m the direction of the organs. Self-Esteem, for
example, throws the head high and slightly backwards,
vulgarly called ' turning up the nose ' at anything,
l''irmneB8 fiives an erect stiffness to the person. Cau-
tiousness throws the head backwards and to the side.
Veneration slowly forward ; hence the reverence and
bow. The involuntary mo'-ions extend to the features
of the face ; hence the d-,rk and harsh expression of
DestructivenesB, and tlie smile of Benevolence and
Love of Approbation. The countenance tends to take
a permaneiit expression from the prevalence of parti-
cular feelings. It is this which renders the physiog-
nomy of phrenology scientifically trustworthy.

The Organs arranged In Groups.
It is instructive to find tho organs of ?uch of tho hu-
man faculties as have an affinity to each other, placed
contiguously in the brain, and to observe that, by an
apparent sympathy, they stimulate each other to acti-
Tity. 1st, The supposed organs of the Love of Life and
AlimentivencBB — the essentials of Self-Preservation —
lie contiguous in the brain. But man has a camivo-
X0U8 ttoaiach and teeth, and mutt destroy animal life

to prmerre hit own. DeitmctlreneM, accordingly, liei
close to the two organs mentioned. He must not only
devour the gentler aninials, but must not be devoured
by the ferocioui ; hence hit Cautioucness, Combative-
neti, and Secretiveuesi are all cloie iieighbourt of the
three orgarii mentioned, and of each other. The aeou-
mulatio;! of turplut above hit immediate wantt, to
important to mau't preservation, is prompted by Ao<
quisitivencss; while, without Conttructivenest, he would
perish for want of shelter and clothing. Thus a cluster
of no fewer than seven organs forms to man the f»</"-
prtservative group of faculties, '2d, Man is commanded
to do more than 'subdue;' he is enjoined, by multi-
plying hit species, to ' replenish the earth,' Behold,
then, another group of faculties for this purpoio, which
may be called the species-preiervative,or domestic group
— Amativenets, Philoprogenit'/eness, Inhabitiveness,
and Adhesiveness. 3d, Designed for the society of hit
fellow-men, men asserts hii own rights and legitimate
power by 8elf-Esteeni or Self-Love ; while he is in-
fiuenced by the opinion of others to the proper regula-
tion of hit conduct by Love of Approbation, or regard
to character. Firmness aids Self-Esteem in asserting
right. The three organs located close to each other
form our rights and charaeter-prerervative group. 4th,
The moral group, by excellence, is formed by Conscien-
tiousness, Benevolence, and Veneration earth-directed,
nth, Tlio religious group is formed by Veneration heaten-
directed, Wonder, Hope, and Ideality; the last being
claimed at a religious faculty by Sir (ieorge Mackenzie,
as the love of the perfect, tith, A bountiful Providence
has provided a rich fund of recreative pleasure for
man in what may be called the poetical or recreative
group of his faculties — namely. Imitation, Wonder,
Ideality, Wit, Tune, and Time, all lying contiguous in
tho brain. Lastly, Tuniing to the intellectual powert,
we have them in one splendid and < god-like ' assem-
blar;e in the forehead of man, subdivided into three
^uups, according to their uses. The lowest range, the
siinply.perceptive group, gives the perception of objects
ana their qualities. Above it is placed the relatively-
perceptive group, for perceiving the relations of objects
and events ; and, above all, the organs of the highest
of man's f;icultieg— namely, his reflecting powers, which
perceive the relations of ideas, and reason upon them;
or the rcfiective group.

CONTINUATION OF PHRENOLOOr AS A COMPLETE PHILOSOPHY
OF MIND.

The phrenologists have chiefly confined their atten-
tion to the organs of the brain, and the various faculties
of which these are the instruments. The former writers
on mind (Reid, Dugald Stewart, Brown, and others)
gave, on the contrary, their chief carb to the mental
acts called Attention, Perception, Conception, &c. which
they considered as faculties. The phrenologist does
not overlook the importanceof this department of men-
tal philosophy, but differs from the metaphvsicians in
considering perception, conception, &c. as only modes in
which the real faculties above descHbed act. This dis-
tinction is one of great iniportaa^ti/ ^' ':

According to the phrenoIogiMvtbo fitculties are not
mere passive feelings; f'^oy idl WiilfTO Action. When
duly active, the actions they prodtf6J) are proper or
necessary; in excess or abuse, they are improper, vi"
cious, or criminal. Small moral organs do not product!
abuses; but they are unable to prevent the abuse of the
animal organs, as the larger tend to do; thus small
Benevolence is not cruel, but it does not offer suffi-
cient control to De^tructiveuess, which then impels to
cruelty. Large organs have the greatest, small the
least tendency to act— each faculty producing the feel-
ing or idea peculiar to itself. Seeing that all the organs
tend to action, the Creator must have intended a legiti-
mate sphere of action for them all. He could never
have created either bad or unnecessary faculties.

The Propensities and Sentiments cannot be called
into action by the will. We cannot fear, or pity, or love,
or be angry, by willing it. But internal causes may stl-

r5i

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THF. PEOPLE.

muUte the organi, and then, whether we will or not,
their emotioiii will be felt. AgBin, tlieie feelliiRi Are
Cklled Into action In eplte of tho will, by the preienta-
tion of their external objocte— CautlouineM by object*
of terror, lioye by beauty, and lo on. The foice of
the feeling!, whether excit»-l from within or without,
will be in proportion to the activity of the tempera-
ment. UxceMrve actio'- of the afiective facultiei, or
the removal of their object, cautei pain. l-'xcvHiive
rage ii painful to DeitructivencHu; and the death of an
infant palni the l'hiloprof;onittvi iieii of the mother.
' Intanity ii a frequent rvsult of xver-outlvity of the
afiSKtlve feelinga. An ntfoctiro facultr may bo die-
eaeed, and vet the Intellect lounj. The convene ii
also true. When the organ it atiinll, iti feeling cannot
be adequately experionct'd. Hence *'io frauds of thoie
with small Conicientlouanets and large Hecretivenem
and Acquiiitivencas. Tho <*il| can indirrctly excite the
atTective fuellngs, by lotting the Intelloct to work to tind
externally, or conceive internitlly, the proper objectt,'.
This account! for different turns and pursuits. Lastly,
the ail'ective faciiltit^s do not form ideas, but simply
feel; and therefore have no memory, cujicontJon, or
imagination. They have Scntalion only ; mi other
wonts, they feel ; hence Sensation belongs to all the
fouulliej which feel, and to the cjtteriial senso» nnd
nervous system in gencml. 8ons.ition, therefore, is a
state or condition, not a faculty, as is held by the
metaphysicians.

The KNOWi.Nd and KEFt.EcriNo Kaci'ltie8, or Intellect,
form ideas, perceive it;li\tibns, and are subject to, or
rather constitute, the VVil! ; and minister to the alKcc-
tlve faculties. They may be excited by exturnal objects,
and by Internal causes. When excited by the presenta-
tion of external objects, these olijocts are perceived, and
this act is called I'kucewio.n. It 13 tho lowest degree of
activity of the intellectual facul'ivs; and thoBewho are
dcticient in a faculty cannot perceive its object,
^ (loNCKPTioN is also a mode of actioi> of the faculties,

not a faculty itself. It is the activity of the faoiilties
from Internal cauws, either willed, or nwoluntary from
natural activity, ^maoination is Conception tarried to
a high pitch of vivatity. Thus Perception is the lowest
degree of stUvtty of any of the intellectual facultieii,
Conception tie secona, and Imagination the highest.

Mkmory, too, 13 not w. faculty, but a mode of action.
It necessarily follonti tl. 1. there can be no such thing
aa the general niemoiy of the metaphyaicians, l>!;t every
faculty must have its own memory. Memory belongs,
however, only to the intellectual faculties. It differs
from Conception and Imagination in this, that it recol-
lects real objects or events which it has actually per-
ceived, and adds the consciousness of time elapsed since
they were perceived. Tho other named modes of action
do not require realities or time.

JuiMMEM, in its proper sense, i« the perception of
adaptation, fitnesit, and necessary consequence ; and is
A mode of action of the reflecting powers. In a certain
sense, the Knowing Faculties niav each be seid to {los-
•esa judgment ; as Colouring judges of uolo^vrs Form
of forms, TuM of muaio. When, however, we use the
word judgment, WOjnMa i%ht reasoning, sound decid.
ing. 'i'u this %|>rDBK baianoe of the affective faculties is
essential. Then VM b« no sound judgment where any
of the feelings are excessive.

Co.Nsc'ioL'SNBss Is the knowledge which the mind :.?s
of its own existence ar.d operations, whether these lfi.<<t
arc affective or intellectual; but as it does not revi'ul
tlie existence or nature of the powers themselves which
think and feel, it woa an er ->r in some of the meta-
physicians to attempt to discove- these powers by
merely reflecting on their own consciousness.

AttRVtwn is not a faculty, but the application, or
tention, of any or all of the intellectual fauuUies.

Association is that succession of ideas iu tho mind,
each seeming to call up that which sucseeds; so that,
in our waking hours, thv mind is never without an Idea
passing through it. This is a state or coiidition of the
iaculties, not a faculty. Tho metaphyiidaua have cu-
M8

deavoured to dis<}oier laws by whiih, in every mind,
this succession ii regulated. The uniform associating
powers, according to them, are reMemblancc, contiguity in
time and place, and contrnst. 1 he phrenological view is,
that the predominant facaltles in each mind create the
asKociations. Antociutlon i<i a very impDrtant principle In
iiontal science. There is a mutual influei<ce of the or-
gans which produces ussocintions; a natural assooiation
betweeii cortain external objects and certain facultios;
and artiAcial associations niny be formed >>ctwcen ob-
jects anil faculties. For oxamnif, long cxerxiise of a
particular or;^an or organs in i>erforining certain acts,
renders those acts eas^, by the rapid assoclution of tho
ideas necessary to their performance. Professional iikill,
in all its varieties, Is thus accounted for. Mutual ac-
tion of the faculties arises from the beautiful arrange-
ment or grouping which we have already described,

Pa8l4Ion ia any faculty in excess. Thus thuro are as
many passions as faculties. Love is the passion of Ania-
tivenesi in union with Veneration; avarice of Acqui-
sitiveness; riige of Destructiveness.

P(.K4HuiiK and Pain also belong to ench faculty, ac-
cording a* it Is agreeably or disagreeably affected.

PAriENCitand Impatience are respectively tho results
of certain combinations of faculties. Thus Benevolence,
Veneration, Hope, (.'onscientiouHiiesa, and Firmnesa,
with moderate Self-Knteem, produce a quiet, meek, re-
signed, and patient apirit. Apathy is quite different,
although often confounded with Patience; it arises from
lymphatic temperament or deficient brain. On tho other
h.iiid, Self- Ksteeni, Combatlveneas, and Deatructlveness,
when larger than Benevolence, Conscientiousness, and
Veneration, will be impatient of contradiction. Large
Time and Tune give impatience of bad music.

Jov and Oriki' arise from ngveeable and disagree-
able titl'ections of the faculties liy causes of consider-
able power. Weolth, power, iind praise give joy to
Acquisitiveness, Self-Ksteem, and Love of Approba-
tion; while, on the other hand, tho death of ft beloved
relative affects AdhesiveneRS with ^rrief.

SvMi'ATllY, as its name (from the Greek) signifies, is
feeling with another, or partaking of bis emotions. The
laws which regulate the activity of tho faculties show
the nature of this affection and the circumstances in
which it occurs. Two individuals of similar constitu-
tion of mind naturally feel alike. This is the sympathy
felt in the theatre, listening to eloquence, or witnessing
distress and suffering, liut there is another kind of
sytiipathy — namely, that which is called up by the
activity of a particular feeling in another's mind, ma-
nifested by the natural language of the active faculty;
thus the haughty air of Self-Ksteem instantly calls
up a defensive Sclf-Kstocm in those who witness it, if
the faculty be powerful in them. On the other hand,
Benevolence, with its kind natural language, excites
the same feeling in another. Wonder, too, spreads
rapidly; and so ou.

Habit may be defined as the power of doing anything
well by frequently doing it. But before it can be done
at all, there must be the faculty to do it, however awk-
wardly. Habit, then, is the acquired strength of the
faculty by its repeated exercise.

Taste was heltl by Mr Stewart to be a faculty, and
acquired by !uil<it. Phrenology holds that good taste
is the result of a haniionious action of all the facul-
ties. Bad taste is evinced when particular faculties,
(-specially the propensities, break out beyond due
limits. Social converse is injured by bad taste in va-
rious ways — by displays of vanity, disputatiousuess, &c.
Bad morsMty is bod taate; but it is more, it is tur|ii-
tude. A dtaudard of taste, about which so much has
been written, is not a decision of certain objects or
oualities of objects as beautiful or perfect to all men.
This were a vniit attempt; but it may be approximated
by appealing to the taste of individuals of very favour-
able and harmonious organisation, which has received
the highest possible culture. It cannot fail to strike
that good taste, sound jvidgment, and good morals ail
require well-balaticed faculties.

I every mind,
ni AMociatiiig
, contiguity in
oKical view is,
iii<l croftte tho
It principle in
i>c« of the or.
a1 Hssuciation
aiii t'ncitltio*;

between ob-
oxen;i»a of a

certain acta,
liction of thu
eationiU xkill,

Mutual av-
tiful arraiiKo-
duRcribed.
I thuro are as
«ion of Auia-
ce of Acqui-

i faculty, ac-
xffected.
ly tlie resultt
llenoToIence,
1(1 FiminctB,
et, meek, re-
ite different,
it ariROH from
On the other
itructiveiiess,
ousnesi, and
tion. Largo
isic.

nd diwgree-
of con»idcr-
give joy to
of Ap{)robA-
of a beloved

) signitieR, is
iotion«. The
culties Bhoir
inistancea in
lar conititu-
bo sympathy
>T witnessing
her kind of
I up by the
» uiind, nm-
tive faculty;
itantly calli
ivitneas it, if
other hand,
lage, excites
too, opreadg

ng anything
can be done
jwevcr awk-
ingth of the

Faculty, and
; good taste
1 the facul-
ir faculties,
)eyond duo
taste in ra-
ouBuess, &c.
it is tuq)i-
> much has
1 objects or
to aU men.
pro:>iimated
'cty favour-
I as received
bil to strike
[ morals all

LOGIC.

OBJECTS OV THE iSCIENCR.

Truth is commonly held tp bo the grei»* and proper
object of human curinaity — the end of all inquiries,
the indispensable attribute of ovory thing we call know-
lodge, and one of the greatest achievements and moat
glorious possessions of man.

Now all those phrases point to something not alwayi
liosscssed, not obvious, and it may be hard to acquire;
and yet there are things correctly called true which
are not of this description. It is true that I write,
that the walls of a room surround me, that I walked
in the streets yesterday; and the personal experience
and conscious history of each individual will furnish
hini or her with an unlimited number of the same
kind of truth' , but there is neither labour, nor
anxiety, nor w very great feeling of exultation accom-
panying them. It cannot, therefore, be this sort of
truth that is so highly extolled.

These facts of personal experience, howi . or, are not
the whole of truth or knowledge; thoy are only a very
litnitod portion of the thuigs known and believed in.
We receive many events as true on the experience of
others ; we can acquire a conviction of the reality of
occurrences that have taken place in former ages, or in
remote countries. Moreover, in respect to what is yet
future, wo have often the same certainty us if we actu-
ally experienced it. And it is our having to find out,
with accuracy and precision, things existing only in
the experience of others, and things past, distant, and
future, that renders the discovery of truth frequently
arduous, as well as worthy of being achieved.

There are thus two distinct kinds of truth and know-
lodge : the one furnished by personal experience, com-
monly termed Intuitive, which ia of narrow limits, but
of the highest possible certainty; the other not obtained
from personal experience, and extending over the whole
world, and into past and future time. To arrive at a
knowledge of this last clii.sa of truths, and to acquire
certainty regarding them, is on operation of labour and
care, and must be gone through in a particular way,
which it is possible distinctly to point out.
_ The class of things not ascertainable by direct expe-
rience become known by being connected with known
thin-.;3 by a bond that direct experience has ascertained.
When 've see a flash of lightning, we have a direct
erperience of a luminous appearance, and we further
know that a noise of thunder will follow; that is, we
can anticipate and believe in what has not yet been
actually perceivt'd. In this case every one is aware
that the grounds of the anticipation are, that we have
formerly Lad experience of both events, and that the
one has been found to follow the other. And when,
on observing that five seconds have elapsed between
the flash and the noise, we believe that the place of
the thundery agitation is a mile off, it is because the
previous experience of the travelling of sound has shown
it to be at the rate of one-fifth of a mile per second.
Bo, having observed that flame is usually accompanied
with heat, we are ready at any time, when we see a
flame, to believe that heat is given forth, though we
should not actually feel it. What nature seems to
associate together in the world, we come to associate
in our minds, and we need only to be directly cognisant
of one part of the combination to realise all the rest.
This kind of knowledge is called knowledge by Infe-
rence; and it will be obvious that it is derived through
our previous experience of the occurrence of united
events. But as it is not every case of two things hap-
pening together which will enable us to feel sure that
they will in all future time happen together, we require
to have some means of discriniinating the conjunctions
No. 7 a.

that will always occur, from such as may fail at tha
very time when wo trust to them.

If nature furnishes conjunctions of events, or com-
panion circumstancos, cnabliiijj us, on finding one, to
make sure of the presence of a second which may he
hidden from the immediate view, it is important that
we should know them all; for they will serve to expand
our vision, and will give us the means of acting on what
concerns us, although not before us. The discovery of
all these natural conjunctions, called Laws of Nature,
is the discovery of Truth, and the reducuig of them to
their most naked and simple form, is Science; the con-
ceptions of which approach more closely than any others
to the deepest and clearest iMissiblo insight into the
scheme and mechanism of the universe.

Language, or speech, originally contrived for th«
communication of meaning, thought, and emotion or
feelings, has become a great ami indispensable instru-
ment in the discovery of the laws of things, or the
natural conjunctions, and united events established in
the world. This iiistrumentallty is not absolutely
essential to our gaining of knowledge by Infurcnce,
anymore than it is to knowledge by Intuition: the
once whipped dog knows that if it do a certain act an-
other whipping will follow, and this knowledge comes
from a pre-established connection of events, which
enabl^.s the animal to draw the inference. But it ii
found that we cannot advance far in tracing out the
actual conjunctions of nature, nor in deducing conclu-
sions from them in the applications to life, without the
help of language or speech, together with certain classei
of marks and symbols that are not employed in ordinary
conversation, although somewhat of the nature of lan-
guage. This necessity ia owing to the abstruse and
hidden character of the greatest and most comprehen-
sive uniformities of nature; for if these lay all on the
surface, like the coincidence of sunriae with daylight,
our mere notion of the two connected things, derived
through one or more of the senses, would bo quite
enough to put us in possession of the laws.

Logic (derived from the Oreek word lor/oa, which
literally signifies speech or discourse) is the science
that treats of the methods for assisting and guiding
the human faculties in the discovery of the true natu-
ral conjunctions of the world (which are the subject-
matter of the various sciences), and in the verification
of all alleged conjunctions, and everything that can be
a matter of belief or disbelief. It is the science of
dJacovery and proof ; it gives the rules for sifting and
testing e- lythirig we call evidence. By investigating
to the I (,'ti.cm the grounds of oertainty in all cases of
affirm&rion r lenial, it enables us to arrive at what is
the tPAih >-i i].<tances where the human faculties, un-
ossisti d uv iu methods, would entirely fail.

NAMES AND ASSER'flk>NS.

As the truths of which Logic taMM cognisance arc all
inixec up with Language, it is essential at the very
outset to give an account of the various classes of
names that are involved in affirmations and denials,
or that serve to embody the conjunctions found in
nature.

The invention of names has been determined by the
character of the objects to which they are applied, or
at least by the conceptions formed of those objects.
This has been illustrated in a preceding paper (No. 62,
Vol. II.) on Language. The classification of names for
our present purpose will be somewhat different from
the order of their invention, although coinciding with
it in several points. For logical purposes, there are two
great classes of names of objects, apart from the verb
which serves for aflirmation.

353

CHAHBEBffS I5T0RMATI0M FOR THE PEOPLE.

The DIRbront Kinds of Naiiim.
Th« firtt riMt <>f namai lncliicl(<i individual anil
proprr tmineii, or tho nwiifi of tiug\e oJijiicU- a* Kiijj.
laiiil, the Nila, Miint Ulaiic, Niajiara, Nap-ileon; they
nni tho iiittrki or <le(iKi»itioiis nC certain iiiiilriilunl
thiiigf or oxiitiiicei, whether natural objnrti ur itidi-
Tidual men or animali. They (orre merely the purpoie
of markiiiK out ionie one thuiu from amoii^ the multi-
tude of thing! at lar)(o, exactly m would be done by
pointing to it with the flnger, or in anr way Indicating
It to another ponon. They giro no information, and
inrolvo no atecrtion, nnr any matter of belief or dii-
bellef; neither do they in general make any compu-
riion betwecii tho object and other objecti. Thcae
names lerre the bare purpose of communication, and
they are tho only names which arc uf themielvei desti-
tute of all logical function.

The lecund class of names includes general names,
which are of rarious sorts, but have nil a common cha-
racter as distinguished from tho foregoing. It |i«<ing
found that, notwithstanding the variety iiresentvil ly
nature, there is a great extent of similarities, or many
instances of likeness betweeii objocta, this likeness strik-
ing the human mind has led to the a|)plii°ati(in of a
common name to the individuals of each resembling
group. Thus supposing A'lVe were the proper name of
the nrst river which came under the notice of a people,
and that they afterwards met in with a Becond river,
the similarity of the two objects would strike them at
once, and tho name Nile would be use<l as the mark of
tho second as well as of tho first. Tho snmo process
would be applied to a third, and fourth, and so on, till
it became the common name of rivers in general. It
would now cease to be the exclusive mark of one
object, and would denote one of a class of objects pos-
sessing common features. To servo tho purpoue of
pointing out a specific individual, some second name
would have to bo superadded, or some device used, for
showing which one of the group was referred to : the
first would answer its original purpose of a proper
name only by being coupled, or rjualijied, as gramma-
• .\ns term it, by a second name hating reference to
one individual of the class, and to no other.

At first sight this may seem a cumbersome and
clumsy process, since it ends in requiring that each
object should have two names instead of one. Hut,
in fact, several very important ste|)s have been gone
through, in their nature quite different from the mere
affair of giving names tor distinguishing individual
things from one another. There is, in the first place,
a series of discoveries as to a number of natural objects.
It has been found out that certain distinct things situ-
ated apart from each other in the world, are, never-
theless, to a certain degree like one another. Now the
discovery of a likeness in two things is not only an
agreeable satisfaction to the human intellect, which
would otherwise have to acquire an entirely distinct
notion of each, but it sbortenb and facilitates human
labour in many ways. Fur io far as the likeness holds,
tho things will aRTeihe same practical purposes, and
may be indisoiiBiiliMelj a]^lied according to conve-
nience : it doei not nouire a separate investigation to
see what each ii good tor, but the conclusions from the
one can be instantly adopted for the other, thus dimi-
nishing the trouble of inquiry; and if we wish to make
known their appearance and character to our fellows,
it will suffice to call attention to one of them, so that
we also lessen the toil of the acquisition of knowledge.
Moreover, if we make any new discoveries about one,
they are made at once for both, as certainly as if we
bad gone through the operation for each. If ten ob-
jects receiving the common name ' river,' were once
completely identified, and if the characters of water,
and the origin and movements and termination of a
single river were found out, a great deal of knowledge
would be gained concerning all the ten without the
labour of detailed inspection.
Wherever nature fumighefl limilarity between diffe-
SM

rent thin^, it is of the highest advantage to man to
detect this similarity; vul woen once duteiied, it cini
bo declared and publishtii by ?na uae <>( a conn <in
name without any formal !■ in, (Im) '''bus instead
of having tan proper iiamus (■■ < io ten rners above
•upnosed, and of publishing il ' iratioui abroad that
ouch has Wen found to resomblu each, whi<'li would
amount to a most voluminous mass of stu* iiionts, all
that is loijuisite in common discourse is to apply the
one name to them all. The fact of similarity is thus
insinuatoil and convove<l by every instance of the use of
the common name. When a groat discovery of idonti-
tlcatioii has been made, like Franklin's discovery of
thu resemblance of thii iiler and lightning to the phe-
nninenu of a common electrical machine, it is pub-
lished ti) the world most elfcotually by hencetorth
using the same name for both things; as when the
newspaper accounts of thunder-storms use the phrases
'electricity' and 'electric' n» part of the description,
(ieneral names have thus a high and important func-
tion in re!<|i«ct to our knowledge of the world, and it
is essential that they should be properly and guardedly
US'*!. Since they assert identitus of objects, they mav
mi>lettd us by a mere pretended identity; in which
case our whole procedure respecting tho objects would
be perverted, It is therefore one part of the business
of Logic to state tho precautions necessary for the use
of common or general names.

To understand fully tho different species of general
names, we must consider a procens that takes place
subsequent to the operations of identifying different
objects and imposing a common name, and to the
general use of this name to indicate their similarity,
as well aa to nerve for their designating mark. This
process is what is termed * abstraction,' and is often a
process of nice and delicate analysis, and of subtle
invention. When we have found that several objecti
make nearly the same impression on our minds, with-
out its being altogether the same, we desire to divide
our conception of each into two parts — the one being
the coinciding portion, and the other the differing por-
tion — and to give a name or description of each, so as
to keep them apart in our own minus and in the minds
of others. This splitting up of a complex conception,
with the view of hxing and describing it, is sometimes
very easy, and sometimes one of the most difficult
operations of the human understanding. If we see
two knives exactly the same in the blade, but differing
in tho handle, we can easily state and describe both
the agreement and the diff'erence. A mechanical di-
vision of each into two parts, and the giving of one
name to the common blade, and two distinct names
to the differing handles, and pointing out what wo
mean by each, would be sufficient. We should thus
be able to state why we used one name for both, and
also why the common name would not always be
enough to point out each. But if we take the general
group named ' houses,' which have coininon properties
as well OS a common name, we cannot divide the con-
ception so easily. The thing common to all houses
could not be cut off from one of them, leaving exactly
the points of its distinction from all the rest ; neither
can we point to any portion of tho object as the thing
common to all. We must bring in extraneous matter
into this cose, and state the comir'on attributes of
houses by a reference to other objects besides them-
selves; we must say, what is common to a bouse is its
affording shelter, accommodation, and protection to
human beings, or their valuables. But this is not an
offort of mere analysis : it involves a complicated refer-
ence and a complicated description; it is, nevertheless,
the only way of pointing out to ourselves, or to others,
what that common thing is which enables a common
term to be used for this class of objects, and a constant
assertion of similarity to be made through that com-
mon terra. And when once we know the agreeing part
of the objects, wo can find the non-agreeing part by
what remains; or wo can see that houses differ in size,
form, colour, material, &c,; so that when one has to bo

LOOIO.

l|)««lfled from all tho rut, If It hu not ft prup«r tiain*
(iui'li lUiHt I'aul'i, Mt I'etcr'i), laiiftiiiide iiiuil be found
to <ie>crlb« •zaotljr what are the fuaturei wherein it
ititf'eri from other houtei, or from hoiiiei in ueneral.
The common attribute, once iliitlnKuiiheU ana repre.
ienteU to the mind, i« called the almtract itira of the
objeoti, beoauM it i* luppoied to be withdrawn or cut
away t'i'om the total inau ai eiiiting in nature. In
the caie of two knirei of the kind we tupponod, the
abitract part ii a material portion of the thioK; in the
CM* of the houiti, it ii not a material portion, but a
complicated dtiauription of relation! with other objocts.
In thui going through thn wide range of claiieii, or
identittcd groupi, we will tinil the greateit varivtv in
the nature of the common parti of each cluii, una in
the mode that muit be had recourno to in order to
■tate it. We ihall here preient a few examploi of
theM varivtiei: —

The cikie of mechanical diviiion of the agreeing from
the dilt'oring part Ih of frei|Uont occurrence, but reejulrei
no farther exempliflcation. A cane somewhat more
complex ii when ditt'erent object! contain a common
ingredient mixed up or ditTuted through them— as in
the caie of wet bodies (which agree in containing
water), !alt bodies, sugary substances, and the like.
The process of abstraction in this case would consist in
separating the common inKrudient, or determining what
it is, and giving it a name; or if it has a name already,
then the common designation of the class of objects
would be d(irive<l from this name. Thus ores contain-
ing iron as their chief ingredient, are called iron ores;
so we speak of siliceous minerals, clayey soils, &c.

A more subtle case of analytical abstraction is pre-
sented by objects which agree in things that cannot exist
apart from the objects themselves, and whoso designa-
tions therefore must not bo such as to suppose a sepa-
rate existence. Thus colour is generally such a com-
mon attribute ; likewise form, iiardness or softness,
solidity or fluidity, taste, smell, are of the same cha-
racter. No substance can exist having one of these
effect! alone in the absence of all other effects. Matter
is so constituted as commonly to act upon the human
organs in two or throo ways nt once; and wo can dis-
criminate the effects in our minds, although we cannot
separate the properties causing them into different in-
dividual substances. Thus an orange may act upon
the touch, on the sense of form, on the eight, on the
taste, and on the smell, and wo may have conceptions
of each effect in some measure apart from all the other
effects. We may smell it without receiving any ether
impression ; the only impressions a]iparently insepa-
rable are the sight and the form. Uut although these
are not easily separated in the action upon the sense,
they are felt to be a joint, although co-existing eff^ect ; and
the intellect can effect a separation by giving a name
and description to each, according to the feeling of the
part of the impression that each produces. Thus we
recognise an identity in all objects having the round
form, whatever the colour may be ; and although this
form ii always of some colour, we separate the form
from the colour intellectually in two ways — the one,
by giving a name that shall express the impression of
form to the exclusion of an impression of colour ; the
other, by making a round form with a thin outline, or
with the smallest possible amount of coloured or ma-
torial surface to indicate that we wish to coniiiio our
consideration to the form by itself. Uoth methods are
adopted in the study of forms in geometry: names are
given to them apart from substance and colour; and
fine outlines are made so as to exclude as much as
possible these other impressions from the view of the
mind. In the more complex case, therefore, of inse-
parable material attributes, it is still possible to recog-
nise identity in the midst of differences; to have a dis-
tinct conception of the agreeing portion of the objects ;
and to give a name, a description, or a diagram to the
common part which may be adopted aa the general
name of the noup so agreeing. Thus we have things
bitter, iweet, oard, rough, red, white, round, iquare,

t(c. lioiltei acting on the mhm of hearing, In addition
to the other leiiiei, are conceived apart and d«iif(nataU
apart from their audible impression without any dlA-
nilty. There are also objects that agree not m any
impression on the senses, but in some deoiHir imprea>
sion on the nmro Inward emotions — aa things grand,
terrible, beautiful, &c, — which effects can be separated
by the intellect from the other effects, although tha
causes of them are inseparably joined with other causae
or properties. In all such cases the formation of what
is called an abstract conception may be made clear and
intelligible; and i\\o subsequent processes of naming
and describing this conception, so an to make it an
object of communication and common understanding,
nill be intellijfiblealso; as in like manner the applica-
tion of this common designation us a name of the whole
group of objects that are found to produce on our ininda
the agreeing impression.

A still higher and ver^ numerous class of abstrae-
tions 'are those exumplitied in the previously-quoted
case of houses, where the objects do not produce an
identical impression except in company with other re-
lated objects. The process, however, is still essentially
the same. The coinciding part of the various iiuiividuafa
makes un impression of its own, which may or may not
be separable in the iminudiato sense from other thinga
where tho individuals differ, but which is separable by
the devices known to tho intellect — namely, verbal
descriptliin, or pictorial or other representation; which
description or representation is the abstract term and
common handle of the conception, enabling it to be
considered by the mind, and made known from one
person to another ; it will also serve iis tho general
name of the things possossiiijf the common attribute.
Most of tho abstractions of science are of this complex
kind — as, for example, force, affinity, pressure, mag-
netism, analysis, vitality, virtue, imagination, govern-
ment, security, civilisation, kc. In all these a compli-
cated group of material objects has to be involveil; and
sometimes one class of conceptions, direct from the
material world, has to be wrought up with another
like class, and these again rctined upon until the re-
sulting conception is inuny removes from the actual
things existing in nature which were at the base of the
whole. For instance, the mathematical idea of inte-
gration, and tho chemical idea of douolo decomposition,
are the results of a series of conceptions elaborated out
of one another, although having their first commence-
ment in the impressions of the objects of the material
world. In them the purely intellectual operations of
naming, describing, and combining greatly predominate
over the operations of comparing sensible impressions.

An important distinction among general namea
is brought out in the use of the phrases generic and
specific names. In natural-history classifications these
are constantly employed. Certain objects are called
species in reference to certain others called genera, and
the one is usually said to bo included into the other.
Thus Man is a species, and the class of two-handed
animals is a genus, including the species Man along
with others, iron is a species, the metals are a genua.
A species must be a class of objects Bijireeing in all the
properties common to the genua, and in some other
properties not belonging to the whole genus. Thua
iron has all the characters of the class of metals, and
certain others not belonging to the class. But the
class ' metals ' itself might be the species to a more
comprehensive genus — ' simple bodies;' and this might
be a species in a still more comprehensive genus — ' ma-
terial bodies;' just as ' two-handed ' might be a speciea
compared with animal, and animal a species compared
with living bodies, which include both vegetables and
animals ; so that genus and speciea are correlative
terms, being both connotative general names; but the
one connoting fewer attributes than the other, ia on
that account less exclusive or more comprehensive.

But there is one particular and important applica-
tion of the term 'speciea,* founded upon the existence
of a marked and distinguiahable claas of natural ob-

355

CHAMBERS'S INFOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

jects, which wo iituat here point out. There are certain
kinds of objects that agree with one another, and differ
from all other things in a great and unknown number
of attributes; so that their agreement with one another
is Tery intimate, and their distinction from all other
things very wide. Thus if we take human beings, we
find that they have an exceedingly large and complex
agreement, or they possess more features in common
than we can enumerate, or than we mry ever be able,
after all our study of the human subject, to reckon up;
for to know them all would bo to attain the perfect
knowledge of man. It is the same with many classes
of animals. If wc take the dog, we find that there is
an almost Inexhaustible fund of common features which
mark the dog as a kind apart from all other animals
and things. So iron, silver, phosphorus, are of this
description: the specimens of anyone agree with one
another in all the properties discovered and undisco-
vered that attach to that one; the entire discovery of
all these properties being the perfect knowledge of the
species. Such objects are called ' lowest species,' or
'lowest kinds,' because they cannot bo subdivided into
others, having- the same totality of differences from one
another. Thus if we divide man into white, red, tawny,
and black races, these canrot bo called species in con-
sequence of these distinctions ^ilone: if all the difference
between one race and another can be expressed in one
single attribute, such as colour, or in two or three de-
finite attributes, then these races are no'< ditftront in
kind, thcv .-vre not specifically, r in toto distinguisiied ;
the subdivided classes arc called varfetic?, and no^''
kinds, Dut if it were discovered that an indednite and
unknown number of properties disti.iguished u Negro
from a European, as in the case of a man and a
monkey, or a dog and a horse, European and Negro
would be different kinds. The classes that are not
separate kinds may be exemplified by solids, liquids,
and gases, of the same substance ; for these dift'er only
by a limited and assignable difference, all traceable to
tho one agency of heat. So houses, lands, rivers, are
true classes, but they arc not true kinds; for the ex-
tent of their )i.greemeut with one another, and of their
difference from other things, is limited and assignable;
very unlike the differences between iron and gold, which
affect all the senses, and which ramify and show them-
selves in a boundless number of ways.

All the names of kinds are nouns; and although
adjectives and abstract terms are formed from them, it
is always a limited and imperfect derivation. Thus
the adjective ' manly,' and the abstract noun < manli-
ness,' are very f:ir from expressing all that is common
to man; they only point out some one property which
conspicuously attracts attention for some reason or
another. But the names of classes that are not kinds
readily take on the adjective and abstract form — as
'liquid,' 'liquidity;' 'circle,' 'circular,' 'circularity.'
These derivations are perfectly strict and proper; and
it is only such names as are formed from classes, not
kinds, or limited and ascertained in their common fea-
tures, that can properly yield adjectives and abstract
nouns with a stpctly logical application.

Mameablo TliinKs.

It is of iniportSDce, •• a preliminary to explaining
the nature of affirmations or assertions, to have a gene-
ral view of the things presented to us for receiving
names, and for becoming the subjects of such affirma-
tions or assertions; in other words, it is convenient to
posscsii a comprehensive classification of the whole of
the things that can become part and parcel of tbo
thoughts, conceptions, or krowledge of men. Mr John
Stuart Mill, in his great work on Logic, has devised a
classification of the universe of knowable and nameable
existences as follows : —

Uf, Feelings, or states of consciousness, or every-
thing which the mind is said to be awar& of, or which
produces an influence upon it. These include all sensa-
tions, thoughts, emotions, activities, volitions, and what-
ever is said to bo felt or entertabed by the > uau luiud.

a&6

This is the most immediately ascertained class of the
universe of things coming under our cognisance.

'2iJ, The minds themselves which experience those
feelings. We require to distinguish the mind from Its
susceptibilities, and to define it as the thing in which
all these reside.

3d, The bodies or external objects that are the causes
of those feelings, or states, or consciousness, and all the
special powers or distinguishable propertler }f these
bodies. We have already explained that it has pleased
Nature to provide substances which have a manifold
effect upon the human susceptibilities, leading to dis-
tinct conceptlono, and the imposition of separate names
for the various powers or properties thus made known.
The world ol outward objects — these objects being
taken as wholes, and also as possessing each a nume-
rous assemblage of powers, which must bo named and
described, as well as the total masses — makes one large
clasb of our nameable and knowable things, and as
such must be recognised In Logic. We can only bi
aware of those by their action on our minds; and hence
it is necessary to class them subsequently to the states
of consciousness or feelings which make thorn known,
and which alone are properly present to tbj mind. Tho
external universe does not require for ou:.' present pur-
pose to be more minutely classified; the chief point re-
garding It being the point now stated as to the conplex
power of its individual objects upon the mind, upon
which the whole of the abstractive process is founded.

4th, Tho Successions and Co-existences, the Like-
nesses and Unlikeuesses, between feelings or states of
consciousness, and between the outward objects that
produce them. In addition to the Individual feelings
of the mind, and the Individual objects of the world,
we are led to take notice of their positions, movements,
and similarities, or want of similarity. If thuught and
nature were dead and still, thure would be nothing to
mark but position ; but as both are liicessantly moving
and chan<ring, we must take cognisance of the move-
ments, antl see how one thing follows another. If nu
two things were ever alike, perception of Likeness
would be impossible; but as the world has been con-
stituted on the principle of repeating tho same objects
in innumerable circumstances, the examples of this
must force themselves on our attention, and we must
signify, by appropriate names or descriptions, that such
likenesses occur, so far as we descry them. Our con-
ceptions are at the mercy of the outward universe,
and ought to follow it as closely as possible ; hence
our processes of naming, with the view of communicat-
ing our knowledge, ought to correspond to the same
common source of sensation and thought. We must
therefore, in addition to feelings, objects, and their
properties, possess a means of describing tho co-exist-
ences of these, their successions, their likeness, and un-
likeuesses; and beyond these there Is nothing that we
can take p hold of. We exhaust all that passes In our
minds, and all that we suppose to pass in nature, In
the comprehensive grouping of F'eellngs, Minds, Ex-
ternal Causes of Feeling, and the Co-Existences, and
Successions, Likenesses, and Unlikeness of these Feel-
ings, and their external causes. The entire action of
the universe on the mind of man presents nothing that
is not included in these four heads,

Nature of Assertions or Propositions,
In our exposition of names, we made no reference to
matters of belief or disbelief. We spoke of objects and
of their properties, conjunct and single, and of the con-
ce;itlons formed of these, and of the names and descrip-
tions given of those conceptions; but a mere notion or
conception Is not a n<<itter of belief. We must now,
however, proceed to state the nature of assertions, affir-
mations, or propositions, which all mean things to be
believed cr disbelieved, and therefore to be proved or
disproved. A matter of belief means something wo can
act upon; something that will enable us to do one thing
for the sake of attaining some other thing. M'hen wo
say ' bread is nourishing,' wc do more thau auuouncu

tome.

:Ias8 of the
inco,

ience tboM
ind from its
ig in which

e the causes
and all the
,ep of these
has pleased
a manifold
ding to dis-
arate names
^ade known,
bjects being
ach a uume-
I named and
(cs one large
inga, and as
can only be
s; and hence
to the states
;h'jm known,
I J mind. The
present pur-
hief point re-
I the couplex
i mind, upon
I is founded.
58, the Like-
g or states of
, objects that
idual feelings
of the world,
g, movrments,
f thought and
be nothing to
santly moving
of the move-
lother. If no
1 of Likeness
has been con-
I samo objects
mples of this
and we must
on 8, that such
m. Our con-
fard universe,
isaible; hence
comuiunicat-
to the same
,t. We must
its, and their
the co-cxist-
jness, and un-
[thing that we
posses in our
in nature, in
^ Minds, Ex-
Ixistences, and
)f these Feel-
itire action of
nothiug that

Jio reference to
lof objects and
Id of the con-
Is and descrip-
|iere notion or
J'e must now,
Isertions, affir-
li things to bo
I be proved or
|ething wo can
) do Olio thing
■g. When we
liau auuuuncu

an ohject, 'bread,' and a property, 'nourishing:' we
tie these two things together with a bond of union
which rouses the activity of the human mind, and
causes it to set to work in some given course. Asser-
tions are not idle notions, but things of power and
might; they are the intellectual machinery that rules
the greater part of human life. When a man feels the
want of nourishment, and is reminded of the assertion
that ' bread is nourishing,' he applies his active ener-
gies to procure the bread, in tlie full assurance that he
will thereby have something more than meets his eye
in a loaf : that he will have his bodily strength re-
newed, and his appetite gratified. Belief is the state
preliminary to action, or the state disposing to action
when some given emergency arises; and assertions or
propositions are wh.at call forth this faith or belief.

An assertion requires, in the first place, that there
should be two things mentioned: it is not possible so
to mention a single object as that it shall be a matter
of belief or disbelief. Thus ' fire bums,' ' gold is yel-
low,' ' bread is nourishing,' ' the sun is the centre of
the planetary motions,' each contains at least two things
or notions coupled together. Fire is one thing, burning
is a different thing, if there be any meaning or anything
to believe in the assertion. But the nienUon of two
things is not enough: the two names of ' gold,' ' yellow
colour,' do not make an assertion of themselves ; the
asserting power is conferred by the verb 'is;' and we
shall find that every assertion requires a verb, or that
the verb is the part of speech which completes the force
of an assertion, or has the power of causing belief or
disbelief in the human mind. The question, then,
arise;: what is the import of those verbs which are
the bonds of union between the things coupled together
in assertions i

As assertions can relate only to the actual facts and
appearances of the world, they must refer to some of
the great classes of things above enumerated, as consti-
tuting the entire universe of the kuowable. Accord-
ingly, Mr Mill has shown that all possible assertions
may be reduced to five general heads, determined by
the fourth class of namcablo things, or the class com-
prehending Successions, Co- Existences, Likenesses, and
Unlikenesses. If we add to these four things the idea
of mere Existence, we shall possess a summary of
everything that can ever come to be asserted in any
aifirmation or proposition.

We may, however, premise, before illustrating this
statement of tjj meanings of assertions, that proposi-
tions may be either affirmative or negative: they may
either propose something for belief, or as a ground of
confidence and action; or they may propose something
for disbelief, forbidding us to accept such thing as a
ground of action. This ia the only real and permanent
distinction among propositions as to tlie fonn of their
making their assertion. Other divisions, as into simple
and complex, and into categorical or unqualified, and
hypothetical or conditional, are not fundamental divi-
sions. Each complex proposition may be reduced to
simple propositions; and the conditional or qualified
assertions may also be put in a form resembling the
categorical or unqualified.

It may be said, then, of assertions or propositions,
that they affirm or deny some one or other of these
five things — i'lxistence, Co-Existence, Succession, Causa-
tion (a peculiar and iuiportant kind of Succc9s;on), or
liesemblance. No proposition can be enunciated, no
piece of knowledge or information conveyed, nothing
believed or disbelieved, nothing presented as a guide
to human action, that does not assert or deny of some
thing or things one of theso five attributes.

In the case of Existence, a single object or thing m
sufficient material for an assertion — as when we say,
' the sun exists,' ' Ood is.' Hut in all the otiiers, it is
obvious thut there must bo at least two things; for the
very nature of the attributes of co-existence, succes-
sion, and likeness, is to imply plurality — to co-exist, to
succeed one another, or to resemble one another.

i'roposltions of (lo-Kxistence are puch us — ' London

is situated on the Thames;* ' the battle of Hastings was
fought in 1066;' 'the sun is in the sign Aries.' And the
assertions of the properties of things belong to the same
class — as when we say ' silver is precious,' ' tigers are fe-
rocious,' ' man walks upright.' We have remarked that
nature produces objects that have a manifold action
on the human susceptibilities ; each separate action
being commonly called one of the properties of the
entire object. Now when we assert that certain pro-
perties of a thing accompany certain others, we make
affinnations of co-existence. ' Gold docs not rust,' is a
proposition which may be interpreted to mean that a
certain substance recognised by us as yellow, heavy,
and of high marketable value (the popular and obvious
characteristics of gold), has also the property of not
rusting, like iron or lead.

Propositions of Succession will readily occur to any
one. ' Night follows day ;' 'Queen Victoria followed King
William IV.;' and all the affirmations of historical nar-
ration are propositions of this kind. The distinction
between geography and history is a distinction between
the contemporaneous and the successive : the proposi-
tions of geography express co -existence and order in
place; those in history, succession and order in time.

The particular case of succession entitled Causation,
is one very important in respect to the order of the
world, and to our knowledge of that order ; and although
the idea of a cause and effect is familiar and intelli-
gible to most people, it belongs to Logic to clear it up,
and to represent it with the utmost possible precision,
so that there may not be any doubt hanging over it in
the most obscure and perplexed instances which can
possibly occur. We shall have to take this up at an
after stage ; and at present we need only remind the
reader, that the succession of cause and effect implies a
fixed and invariable bond of connection, such as is
never to be interrupted at any time, or under any cir-
cumstances; we commonly recognise a sort of unfailing
power in the cause to bring on the effect, which we may
confide in to the very uttermost.

We have compared geography v?ith history, as ex-
hibiting generally the contrast of the contemporaneous
with the successive ; and we may likewise compare
natural history, which exhibits the properties con-
joined in the individual objects of nature, with the
sciences of physics, chemistry, &c.. which are sciences
of causation, in order to contrast the contemporaneous
things bound together by a natural and indissoluble
bond, with the successive things bound together with
the same indissoluble connection. The conjunctions of
geography (such as ' the Atlantic divides Europe from
America,' 'Africa is the country of the Nejrroes') are in
great part loose and casual, and so arc many of the
successions of history; but the conjunctions described
in natural history are firm and unalterable, and be-
long to the deep and fundamental collocations of crea-
tion ; and in like manner the successions of cause and
effect aie nature's unalterable succes'-'ons. The con-
trast between anatomy and physiology is a limited
example of the same distinction : the delineations of
anatomy refer to co-existing objects, bound together by
nature's links for connecting the pri'perties of kinds;
the laws of physiology are laws of v Ause and Effect.
' The diamond is composed of carbon,' is a proposition
of fixed natural conjunction; 'heat liquifies sol'ds,' is
a proposition of fixed natural succesjion or causacion.

The only remaining kind of propositions are the
assertions of Likeness or Resemblance, which are totally
distinct from assertions of contiguity cither in place or
in time; but they have the same natural basis e.s these
— that is, nature, besides presenting contiguities, both
loose and fixed, presents a copious store of similarities
\niong the objects that she reveals to our knowledge.
Vliese similarities are usually considered to be of all
degrees ; but, strictly speaking, thin is not tlio case.
The idea of unequal similarity arises from the fact
already alluded to — that a number of natural objects
are often found agreeing in some of their properties,
and not in others; aud, speaking of the entire objects,

357

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

we say that thtiy have only an imperfect or partial
aimilarity. The most perKct siiuilarity is Wnat is
called Identity — that is, taking the same objeut at
different timesi no change having happened to it mean-
while, we call the two nppearancea identically the
lame. Next to thia is the aimilarity of different apeci-
mena of the aame aubstance or kind.

The one acience wholly founded on propoaitiona of
■imilarity ia raathematica.

The procedure of diacovering and verifying these
different classea of aiRnnations ia different for each ;
and it belongs to Logic to prescribe methoda for them
all. It requirea one style of investigation and of proof
to eatablish propositions of causation or of fixed suc-
cession, and another set of operations to determine the
propositions of fixed co-existence ; while the proposi-
tions of likeness aru found in u way differing from
either. Each of these methods will be alluded to when
we cume to speak of Induction.

Definitions.

By far the roost important distinction in the whole
icience of Logic, or in what constitutes the essence of
human knowledge, is the distinction between proposi-
tions and definitions; or between affirmations and con-
ceptions, verbs and nouns, A definition we have al-
ready shown to be the accurate expression and descrip-
tion of some abstract quality of which we have formed
a conception, after a comparison of the different objects
agreeing in the possession of such a quality. We stated
that the final step in the prooess of abstraction was
the making of some accurate description of the pro-
perty abstracted, whether by words, by diagrams, by
models, or by some specimen that contains the quality
as little mixed with others as possible. In short, the
great e:id of a definition is to fix by some intellectual
machinery the character of an abstract conception,
notion, or idea. Out we have just found that a proposi-
tion couples together two ideas, and cannot possibly con-
tain lei :■ A definition communicates a notion or idea
to the mind, it gives us one conception more than we
had previously, or communicates a perfect representa-
tion where perhaps we had only a vague idea before; but
it gives nothing that can be called knowledge, nothing
to bo affirmed, or denied, or acted on; in respect of
these matters, it is only one of the things that may enter
into a proposition. Two abstract ideas duly connected
may make a propoi-tion; one idea never can. For the
purposes of discovery and of the investigation of nature,
both definitions and propositions have Co be sought;
but both must not be sought as if they were the same
thing. A definition and a )>roposition usually agree
in this — that they are both the results of generalising
from a number of instances; but the geueralisntion of
an idea, and the generalisation of a law or a conjunc-
tion of ideas, should never be confounded. The im-
perfect recognition of this vital distinction is a jourcc
of much error and perplexity, 'with in matters of science
and in questions of truth and falsehood apa'-t from
science. In seeking a definition of an abstract pro-
perty, we ought to muater the individual objects in which
it occurs; compare thorn together in order to obtain a
clear picture of th«ir common property; and finally,
invent some description, designation, or representation
which will so express and fix it, that other people mey
be able to conceive the property with the same rigid
accuracy as the pcKon who went through the labour
of making the comparison.

All definitions must refer to something which does
not itself require to bo defined, or which is plainly and
clearly known to all met:, and requires only to be
named that it may be truly and justly concciveii.
Thus when the abstract property of roundness, or the
circular form, is defined in geometry, reference is made
tc a central point and a straight )ino running out from,
and revolving round it in the same plane. Now the
idea of a point, a straight line, and a plane, although
they themselves are formally attoinpteu to l>e defined
in geometry, are example* of tilings »o clearly por-
35a

ceived in general, that mankind could not be miataken
in any conception made up of them.

For the sake of accurate reasoning, every general
attribute whatsoever should be accurately defined.
Hence a book of science nmst be a storehouse of defi-
nitions as well aa of propositions, although these last
alone constitute information or truth. It is common
for parties in disputes to make each other define their
terms — that ia, to describe in some unuiistakeable way
the attributes intended to be cxpreaaed by the general
or abstract words made use of. But it requires ii liigh
degree of advancement in any science to furnish per-
fect definitions of all the properties that it is concerneil
with. The generalisation and the verification of a
definition is as much a process of discovery, and stands
as much in need of huinan capacity and labour, as the
generalisation and verification of a law. Hence it is
only in subjects which have attained a high scientific
development that accurate definitions are found. In
the abstruse sciences of mind and society, good defini-
tions are not in all cases attained, any more than good
propositions. Thus the perfect definitions of * will,'
' virtue,' * beauty,' ' poetry,' ' genius,' ' civilisation,' can
hardly be said to be as yet completely attained.

As the things which go together by the ordination of
nature, or the conjunctions which, when expressed in
language, form propositions, are more frequently made
up of separate attributes than of complete objects,
the importance of definitions as preparatory to pro-
positions nmst be evident. Thus when we say, ' elec-
trical excitement ia always polar, or consists of two
opposite excitements,' we state a proposition asserting
the conjunction of two very abstract attributes ; and
the proposition could not be discovered, nor proved, far
less afiirmed and acted on, until a general idea was
formed of electrical excitement, and likewise of polarity,
by the process of gonoralising and defining. ' The
magnet has opposite poles,' is an instance of the same:
magnetism does not reside invariably in one concrete
substance; it is a highly abstract property, sometimes
found in one substance, and sometimes in another.

KATIOCINATION, OR ARGUMKNTATIVK INFERENCE.

Having ascertained the import of affirmations or pro-
positions, wc coine next to consider the nature of proof ,
or of the process that is gone througli when an affirma-
tion is said to be pr-oved. In most caoes of proof,
one or more afiirniations are put forward which are
already believed or admitted to be true; and some nenr
affirmation is derived from these, or said to be estab-
lished as following or flowing from thera. 'John has
come to town: 1 saw him an hour ago;' is an assertion
made and proved by the help of another asaertion.
' You will get better by taking rest : I myself got
round by that Ujcans;' is another example. It is a
part of Logic to ascertain the nature of the connection
between one proposition and another, that will justify
the belief of the one on the faith of the other.

It hiw been shown by logicians, that when one as-
sertion is proved by the help of others, there are always
at least two previous assertions necessary to make the
proof. These two assertions have been technically
called premises, and the one that they prove ia called
the eoncluaion. In ordinary cases, one of the premisea
ia a general proposition of ai\y of the five kinds —
namely, fixistence, Co-Kxistonce, Succession, Causation,
or Resemblance; and the ether premise is a proposition
of resemblance. For example, ' the planets are round ;
Neptune is a planet, therefore Neptune is round.'
Here the first assertion ia a general proposition of co-
existence, or an affirmation that certain bodiea that
circle round the sun have the attribute of roundness;
or that the attribute of describing circles round the
sun coincides with the attribute of roundness of form.
The second assertion is, that Neptune is one of the
planets, or ia a body circling about the sun ; or that ho
resembles the bodies called planets, or that his peculi-
arity of movement ia like their peculiarity. The con-
clusion or infv'i-eacf is, that Neptune is a round body.

LOGIC.

one as-
:e always
lake the
chnioftUy
is failed
premiseB
kinds —
a u sat ion,
•oposition
re round ;
round.'
on of Co-
dies that
undness;
und the
of form,
e of the
Ir thi'.t ho
» ptculi-
Ihe con-
Ind body.

It i» obvioui that if we hare obtained proof, or acquired
certauity in respect to the two assertions or prtiniscs
in this case, there can be no doubt about the third;
for when it is shown that Neptune is entitled to be
called a planet, that body ia included in the sweep of
the general proposition tliat all planets arc round.
There are, therefore, always two things necessary in a
step of argumentative proof: in the^'r^t place, u gene-
ral proposition has to be established; and in the second
place, an identification has to be made out between
the subject of the general proposition and the subject
of the ailirmation that is to be proved. This last point
is merely the practical application of a general affirma-
tion to a special instance. The other step — the estab-
lishment' of a general proposition — is the business of a
scientific inquiry, and has to be done onco for all by
the proper machinery.

The case we have now given of a step of deductive
inference is an example of what is called a syllogism ;
and it used to be reckoned the chief business of Logic
to lay down rules for the correct performance of this
deductive inference, or for the shaping of valid syllo-
gisms, the two assertions or premises being supposed
to be proved, or to have been previously ascertained to
be true.* But it is now considered that the most se-
rious and difficult part of the process of arriving at true
conclusions, is the establishment of the general propo-
sitions which include them. By what process do we
come to be sure that all the planets are round — that
all men are mortal — thf.t all matter gravitates — that
all chemical combinations take place in fixed propor-
tions ! We must not merely provide for the correct
application of propositions which have once been proved,
we must also provide for the proof of these fundamental
propositions themselves.

INDUCTION.

Induction is the term applied to the process of form-
ing and establishing general propositions, principles,
laws, truths, or affirmations — that is, propositions which
are applicable not to one case only, but to all cases that
have a certain definable peculiarity; as when we say,
* gold is heavy,' in which case we affirm that all sub-
stances having a certain colour and lustic are also of
great specific gravity.

The first question that occurs to us respecting tliese
general affirmations is — how and when are wo entitled
to make such very broad assertions I We have .
means of ascertaining the laws and coincidunce? esir.'-
lished in nature, except the observatioiv of what the
world presents to us. If we see that the 'lunlities vt
yellowness und a peculiar lustre are combined with
heaviness, we are entitled to assert the fact in as imiuy
instances as we have verified by examination. In like
manner, if we see that water quenches C ve may
assert that it is so in the cases noticed. But there
remains the grand difficulty- — namely, why arr we
entitled to say that these coincidences and successions
take place not only in the rases where they have been
observed, but also in the cases where they have not
been observed, and in all cases whatever '( For this is
implied in every general proposition.

This question is answered by the fact,' that nature is
' uniform. There is a certain class of coincidences or
co-existences wliich we have already alluded to as tight
co-existences, which are everlasting and unvaried, and
need only one observation to tell how they will be in
every variety of times and places; and there is a certain
class of successions called Suocession") of Cause and
Effect, that am of the like unchanging kind, being the
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. Hence, in these
cases, one observation is as good as a million ; we arc
entitled to txpresa or affirm infinitely more than we
actually find. It is from nature's repeating herself in
endless ways that liuman labour is rthortened to such
au extraordinary degree, that a few years of the short

* For a brief nccount of tho Scholaslie iir Syllojjlstlo logic,
sue ' Chambers's Journal,' N"o. S19, Now Setiee.

life of man suffices for obtaining a very extentive muk
tery of the vast and varied appearances of the world.

Vv^e have asserted that nature is uniform in her coin-
cidences of the properties of kinds, and in her succes-
sions of cause and effect. But, it may be asked, what
proof have wo to offer in support of this assertion,
which is of such magnitude and importance as to be
the foundation of our proof of all other assertions, and
the means of enabling us to convert a single case of
observation into an infinite belief )

There is no other proof to be offered for the unifor-
mity of nature' than the unbroken experience of the hu-
man race. Every ago has found it so ; and in the more
recent times of human history, it has been tested in
every possible variety of ways, and no valid exception has
ever been recorded. There was a time when men might
entertain doubts on the matter, or when the confirma-
tion was but limited, and the apparent exceptions irre-
concileable with the doctrine, liut this time has now
gone by, and the principle has come to be established
upon a basis that seems impossible to be shaken ; and
all the future generations of men will rest upon it with
unswerving confidence. Some have derived the proof of
the principle from an instinct in human nature, which
leads us to expect this uniformity; but this is to rest
upon a most perilous assumption — namely, that the
native instincts of men can correctly anticipate the laws
of the outerworld — an assumption indeed that is far from
true. The very same instinct which leads us to expect
uniformity in nature, also prompts us to believe that
all other men are like ourselves; that our experience is
the experience of the whole world; and that what is at
variance with it must be false. It is the instinct that
urges the inhabitants of a tropical climate to denounce
aa liars and impostors the people who assert that water
can become solid like glass. 8uch an instinct is ut-
terly untrustworthy, until corrected by the observation
of the actual world; but it is extremely valuable as an
impulse advancing in the same general direction with
the results of our experience.

The laws of causation, or the successions of events
established by nature, and invariably adhered to, make
the first and forcm^sv s'lbject of inductive investiga-
tion. In this case the great problem given for man-
kind to solve is — to find thu effects of ail causes, and
the causes of all effects.

The general maxim of the uniformity of nature does
■ not always apply to the outward appearances of things.
A south wind brings rain one day and drought another;
and in many other cases the law of dtrict succession
fails to hold good. The reason of this is discovered by
a very little examination : the superficial phenomena
of thr' world, the things that prominently arrest our
attention, are not single trains of causation, but mix-
tures of many different trains; and the law of unifor-
mity does not necessarily hold good, except in the
simple and indivisible sequences of phenomena and
events. No doubt if a certain number of causes acting
together produce a certain amount of effects, the very
same combination will always produce like efl:'ects; but
it ifc not easy to make sure that two given combinations
are really the same. In order to do so, we must first
become acquainted with the simple causes one by one.
Induction, therefore, in such a state of things, is essen-
tially a process of analysis, or the separation of the
complex thvads of causal ion, with the view to deter-
mine the simple threads; and wbon we \\a\e once pos-
sessed ourselvcH of all these, we will be prepared to cal-
culate the etTects of any combinations of thera. Nature
rarely presents us with a cause and its effect standing
alone. The usual case is to have a multitude of effectfl
flowing from a multitude of causes. It requires, there-
fore, the whole analytic force of the mind to be devoted
to their reduction to single couples of cause ar : efi'ect.
This frequently involves a very difficult operation of
the abstractive faculty.

The great object of inductive inquiry being to ascer-
tain amonc a jnultitude of connected things, which of
them stMia tc each other in the relation of cause and

CHAMKKRS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

effect, we have now to consider the methods of observa-
tion and experiment suited to this dete uination. Dy
♦ experiment ' is meant the process of altering the
arrangements presented by nature, and shaping new
arrangements of oui* own to assist us in ascertaining
the , ..nple sequences of cause and effect. Thus if na-
ture presented to our observation a confused and com-
plicated train, and if we cor' ive to remove a great
many of the circumstances, So as to reduce the train to
a more simple e"^uonce, we are said to proceed by
experiment. If we find or observe a certain locality is
exr^eedingly favourable to health ; and if, in our wish to
ascertain which of all the peculiarities of the place is
the cause of the wholesoraeness, we endeavour to put
ourselves into situations where each circumstance is
excluded in tuni, we are said to proceed experimen-
tally. Mr M.'ll has laid down the different ways of
arriving at cause and effect by this experimental pro-
cedure, under the title of the ' Four Experimental Me-
i0(li>;' which he names the Methods of Agreement, of
difference, of Residues, arid of Concomitant Variations.

' The 8iroples^ and roost obvious modes of singling
.at from t.'ie circumstances which precede or follow a
phenomenon those ..'itii which it is really connected as
an invariable law, are rwo in number: one is, by com-
pa ng toge*^her u'fferent instances in which the pheno-
me. IP <ccur«; the other is, by comparing instances in
whi'jh the phenomenon does occur with instances in
^ -her respects similar, in which it does net. These two
methods may respectively be dunoiiiinafiid the Method
of Agreemerit, and the Methori of Difference.

In illustrating these niethrds, it will be necessary to
bear in mind the twofold character of inquiries into
the laws of phenomena; which may be either inquiries
into the cause of a given effect, or into the effects and
properties of a given cause.

For example, let the antecedent be the contact of an
alkaline substai-:e and an oil. This combination being
tried under several varieties of circumstance resembling
each other in nothing else, the results agree in the pro-
duction of a greasy and detersive or saponaceous sub-
stance. It is therefore cone' led that tue combination
of an oil and an alkali ciiustd the production of soap.'

Mr Mill states the method "f A;-eemeni, in a formal
canon as follows : — If two or more r . uucei of Vie pheno-
menon rmier inve.stiyatioH have only one ehcnmstance in
common, the circumstance in which alone alt the instances
agree is the cause {or effect) of the given phenomenon.

By tho method of ('ifidreii'' ', is meant the process of
compar!;ig two sets of circu!i.stanoes — one containing the
effect, and the other not; am! ivhere between the t'vo
wt can Sue no difference except in one other particular.
' When a uian is sliot through the heart, it is iiy this
method we know that it was the gunsliot that killed
hira ; for he ,vas in the fulness of life iinniediutely
before, all clicumstances being the same, except the
wound.' This method is expressed as follows :— // an
insnitice in which the phenonwnon under investigation
occurs, ( nd an iv tance in which it does not occur, have
entry circumUavce except one, m ccmmon, lliat one oc-
curring only in the former, the circumUance in which
uione the i»i> instances differ is the effect, or cause, or a
iieeessary part of the cause, j I'le phenunttnon.

The method of residues will be seen u) be a carrying
out of <lie same attempt lo bi'ai; up complicated trains,
and to fasten down the iiivariabiiity of sequence upon
the true particulars vIic:* cmse and effoi.t operate. It
is stated this: — Suhduct from any jthcnomcnon such
part as is knoicn by previous inductuKi, to be the effect of
cerluin antecedents, and the residue of the phenomenon is
tl^e effect of the remaining antecedents.

' ThTM- rcni.iins a class of laws which it is impracti-
cable to ascertain by any of the three methods which
I have attompteJ to characterise — namely, the laws
of thoae prnniinent causes, cr indestructible natural
agents, which it ia impossible cither to exclude or to
isolate, which we can neither hinder from being present,
nor contrive that they shall be prp»(;nt al'iue.' llc.at i.^
<ui cxaioplu of this '.iud of agents; we ■ »u Jieither direit

bodies of their heat, nor exhibit it by itself and apart
from all other things; and hence the methods above
alluded to would entirely fail in determining what
things are connected with it as cause and effect. To
meet this difficulty, we have recourse to a method
named by Mr Mill the Method of Concomitant Varia-
tions — that is, in such a case as heat, we observe what
effects increase as it increases, and diminish as it di-
minishes. The method is expressed in general terms
as follows : — Whatever phenomenon varies in any man-
ner u'heneve>- another phenomenon varies in some parti-
cular manner, is cither a cause or an effect of that phe-
nomenon, or ia connected with it through some fuct
of causation. We very frequentiy proceed upon this
method of observing the effects of the increased or
diminished quantity of things, in order to see what
effects they have a tendency to produce,;' udging rightly
that if one event be the cause of another, the two will
rise iind fall together.

There are two kinds of complications that are beyond
the reach of any of these four methods, and require a
distinct treatment. The one is termed the case of the
Plurality of Causes, the other the Intermixture of
Effects. By a plurality of causes is meant, that it some-
times happen I that an effect may arise equally from
several cau."", creating, as it were, an ambiguity of
causation. Thuo a motion may arise from any one of
a great number of forces; happiness or misery is pro-
duced by innumerable agencies. In such cases, the
methods above stated are somewhat nonplussed, inas-
much as it may be possible to exclude 'me cause and
yet keep in another. A still greater difficulty is pre-
sented by the Intermixture of Effects — that is, when an
effect i" not single, but complex. Thus the course of a
projecHle is not a single, but a mixed effect, or two
different effects combined into one different from either.
The disco> ery of the cause or causes, under euch cir-
cumstances, cannot be effected by the Experimental
Methods. Rut this leads us to the consideration of a
method different from any of these, which has a vast
range of efficacy in scientiiic research, and becomes more
and more powerful as the sciences advance, or as dis-
covery is extended. It is called the Deductive Method.

The Experimental Methods suppose that we take
up a ai bject that is as yet fresh and unexplored, or
where no great general principlea have been attained.
They arc the methods adapted to the coiinnencement of
inquiry. I'lit when one or two comprehensive laws
have been arrived at, a great deal is to be uiscovered
by following out the application of these laws wherever
they are fouml to operate. Thus when the law of the
perseverance of moving bodies was once discovered, it
was made use of to explain many motions that would
othenvice have remained inexplicable : 8U(;h as the
rotation of the earth, and the tendency of the planets to
maintain their distance from the sun. In like manner,
the discovery of the general law of reaction enabled
Newton to dolermino the cause, and even for the
first time to ascertain tlie existence, of the lluctuation
of the sun in the centre of the plimetary system. By
the Deductive Method alone .ire we able to trace the
operation of that class of causes which, by intermixture,
are wholly neutralised, and produce no apparent conse-
quences whatever- as in w!iat are called the laws of
equilibrium or counterpoise.

There are three different steps in the complete work-
ing out of the Deductive Method. The first is Induc-
ti<m, or the determinatio.^ cf the general law by the
Experimental Mathods. The second is the carrying out
of the law to the explatiaiion of all cases where it
seems to apply, and especially the tracing out of the
action that would result from two or more principles
acting in combination. Thus the Deductive Method
applied to trace out the cause of tho curved motion of
a projectile, would consist in combining together too
law of perseverance with the law of accelerated motion
under a ciin«tanily-acting force, and in determiiiing
what would 'oe the path that a body would describe
utifler the tw./ nctioiid. The third step, vfliich is Vwi-

LOGIC,

fication, consiBta in comptirinf; tlio effect deduced with
the effect witnesied, to see if the two exactly agree : the
agreement being the proof that the laws suppoaed aro
the laws that operate in the case. When Newton ar-
rived, by induction, at the law of universal gravitation,
and fouad that it decreased as the square of the distance
increased, he applied this deductively to explain the
attachment, or perpetual fall, of the moon to the earth.
He calculated what would be the amount of the moon's
deflection, supposing gravity were the cause of it ; and
then compared this calculated amount with the observed
amount, and found a perfect cniucidence. The same
process he applied successively to the planets, and
proved that each of t.iem was detained from running
off in a straight line through space by its giavltatiou
towards the central sun.

S'^metimes a law is assumed to exist for the sake of
trying how it would explain appearances, although no
such law has been discovered by a re'riilar inductive
prooess. This is what is called making a hypothesis
or assumption. If, on trial, the assumed law is com-
pletely verified by agreeing with the facts, this of itself
may be a reason for believing it to be a true law of
nature. Thus, for example, Dalton's doctrines of
atomic aflinity were at first mere suppositions, or hints
thrown out for trial and experiment ; but it turned
out that they had been so successfully conceived, as to
stand the test in every instance where they were con-
fronted with the r.ctual phenomena.

The laws thua employed deductively, are the most
general or comprehensive laws of nature, or the state-
ments of what happens through the entire range of
appearances that nature has connected with a single
cause. At all events, they are the most general laws
that man has been able to discover; they, moreover,
refer to the smallest and simplest traiuc; or threads of
causation, or to the indivisible sequences of events.
Thus the law of gravitation expresses the simplest train
of causation that can be conceived; there are the fewest
possible circumstances or conditions that can be mixed
up in the production of any eflect. This remark is
necessary, in order to distinguiali ultimate laws from
derivative laws, where additional circumsiuices are
introduced which make the thread more complex, and
the case more limited in its application. Thus the law,
that the planets move in ellipses, is a derivative law,
involving the operation of two ultimate laws unacr
certain arrangements or collocations ; these arrange-
ments are, that the planet should ha^ e been projected
at a distance from the sun, in a certain direction, and
with a certain speed, bearing a proportion to the above-
mentioned distance. As only a very few bodies comply
with all these conditions and arrangements, the law
of elliptic motion is more limited in its application
than the more general laws of perseverance and gravi-
tation. When such laws are got at deductively, they are
called Derivative Laws; when got at inductively, they
are called Empirical Laws. The law of ejlipt motion
was first discovered inductively by Kepler, and after-
wards pi^ivcd deductively by Newton. As given by
Kepler, it was therefore only empirical. All inductions
of complicated sequencL^s, or trains of causation, are of
the empirical kind, and have the peculiarity rf being
(if very limited ap|)licatioii i they must bo confined to
the Cases where all the conditions and arrangements
aro strictly containol. If we observe that u draught
t{ cold air is the cause of ciitrhing cold, the sequence
id only an empirical o!ie, and is confined to cases
wnere certain conditions arc present ; and until the
conditions aro strictly defined, the observation cf iinot
be stated as a, general fact even of tlie empirical klnij,
Many of the assertions wade in cvery-day life aic nl
this undefined description. An effect is assigned to a
cause, without stating the exact conditions and circum-
fctances necessary to insure the sequence.

When we turn from tlie Inductive Problem of Jaiisa-
iii<n to the otl'cr kinds of propositions-- namely, Co-
Ixisteiicc, Order in place, and f^iniilarity — we find a
Eoraenhat ditU'rcnt process of invention and proof re-

quisite. The moat importuit clau of propoaitionr uf
co-existencR are such as assert the properties of kinda,
or the attributes that always accompany one another
in the objects presented to us in nature, Thua when
we nffinn all the properties of gold, iron, oxygen, oak,
horse, man, we propound proposition) of co-exiatence.
Theae muat be Bought inductively, and proved by the
method of Agreement <vlone ; neither any of the other
Experimental Methods, nor the Deductive Method, is
applicable. They are also peculiar in not being amen-
bd! J to any great comprehensive generalisation, like the
la\i' of Universal Causation, We can never, therefore,
hsva anything but a cumulative proof of such coinci-
dmioea — that is, a proof founded on a long series of con-
armationa, with the entire abp^nce of any exception.

On the propositions of Similarity matheraatica are
fount! ed. For an allirmatiou of likeness, the ultimate
appeal must be to the senses, and personal experience.
When we say three and four are equal to seven, we
mean — if the aggregato-namcd three is put along with
the oggregate-named four — the joint effect is the same
as the effect of the aggregate-mimed seven. The truths
of geometry are derivative laws, where order in place is
one of the conditions or circumstances: the ultimate
laws being the laws of equality, or the laws of mathe-
matics in general.

Before closing the subject of Induction, we may ad-
vert to the grounds of the credibility or incredibility of
things presented to our belief for the first time, and
not proved by any independent evidence of their own.
When a fact is asserted that we do not know to be true
or false, but which agrees with some great established
induction, we may say that it is credible, and needs
only some ordinary degree of testimony to make it ac-
tually believed. Thus if we are told that a great
avalanche broke away from a snowy mountain -height,
and acquired in its fall such force as to sweep away
everything that stood in its course, we reckon the asser-
tion credible, because it is merely an instance of the
working of a great natural power. But when it is
alleged that the spectres of dead men come and tell
secrets to the living, we call the assertion incredible,
because it contradicts all the ascertained laws of things,
and is r.ot supported by any one generalisation, or any
of the usual habits and proceedings of the world. We
arc 80 accustomed to the fact, that all nature's opera-
tions are on the great scale, and are to be found recur-
ring in many different circumstances, that we are
entitled to 1o<jk with suspicion ajjon any isolated phe-
nomenon. Such jihenomenon is not accounted worthy
of being onterlained until it is shown that there are
more of the same character to be found, or that it can
be brought under some of the previously-established
generalities of nature.

THE HIGHER ABSTRACTIO.''S.

The inductive determination of the ultimate laws of
nature, or of the indivisible threads of cause and effect,
requires in the gieat majority of cases that the pheno-
mena should be viewecl, not in their ordinary aspect,
but through some artificial representation suitable to
Ibeir inmost nature, or to the mode that they are linked
together in the order of causation. Thus if we desired
to ascertain the precise cause of the heat given fi^rth by
burning coal, or the uingle indispensable antecedent of
this effect, we eho'ild find that in order to fix upon this
antecedent, it i.- necessary to acquire a set of entirely
new notions respecting the substances concerned. One
important material in the act of combustion is in-
visible, and cannot be represented to our minds except
hy a complicated train of associations: moreover, it has
to bo singled out of an aggregate of other invisible
niattf I, and to be defined as having peculiar proper-
tics, wliich must also be conceived by the understand-
ing, as they cannot be witnessed by the senses. To
ascertain that the combination of a particular gas
called oxygen, with tlie black particles of coal, is the
antecedent of the production of heat, demands a verv
great amount of previous preparation, in order to reii-

361

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

der visible to the mind materi*li and prooeuea that
are inviiible to the eye.

The possibility of inaking inductions as to the laws
of phenomena, requires that none of the circumstances
or agents in a given case are hidden from the view,
either by their natural obscurity or by their being acci-
dentally out of sight. Hence a great part of the la-
bour of discovery lias consisted in obtaining the indi-
rect knowledge of the invisible agents and moded of
action that occur in the world.

Of the things that elude our senses, the first to 'le
noticed is the whole class of gaseous bodies. Thn at-
mospheric ocean is the type of these. In the seven-
teenth century, the mechanical characters of this mass
of matter were brought to light. Toricclli and Pascal
proved that it weighed or pressed on the earth the
same as solid bodies. It has also been shown to be a
lelf-expansive mass, or to bo mode up of mutually re-
pulsive particles, which tend to t!y asunder to the ut-
most liu its allowed them. But to reprcEout these
properties to the mind, we require lo call in the aid
of comparisons and types from the visible classes of
things; and if such comparisons are perfectly correct to
I'jv "vtent that we employ them, we can depend upon
<i.ll ei.planations made through their means.

Another very important class of things that do not
s^ow themselves directly to the senses, is the phcno-
iiKii . of the attractions and repulsions that su'tsist
jt >\'een material masses and particles. These cannoi
be been by the eye except in the movements that they
pioduce: they may be felt by the muscular sensibility,
as forces or powers, but this feeling gives no assistance
to the scientific conception of them. The ultimate
i' . ' of adhesion and repulsion that reign among the
I' .. < that make up the larger masses of matter, arc
exceedingly difficult to ascertain and to represent to
the mind ; and the only means we can adopt with
them, is to imagine each particle as a visible maas, and
to conceive the situation and attachment or repulsion
of this mass to some second mass, and so on till we
have figured to ourselves as ma;iy as will make up a
fair specimen of the aggregate in question.

The subtle agencies named heat, electricity, iiLig-
netism, and chemical affinity, arc of the same invisible
kind: they can only be conceived as embodied in cer-
tain actions of visible substances. The effects that they
have upon such of our senses as they act upon, give us
no key to their real character and position in the links
of causation estp.blished in the woild; on the contrary,
these sensations give us an cntireW false clue when we
attempt to search into the hidden course of things.
Thus our feelings of heat, or the action it exerts on our
sensitive frame, stand in the way of our iuvestigatioii
of the ultimate laws of its phenomena; and we require
to cast these feelings aside, and trace its workings
through the higher senses and the reason.

The agency of light that leveals so many other
things, is itself the most inscrutable < '' all known phe-
nomena. The laws whi(:h regulate . action are not
written oi. its superticiul appearance : and the little
that is known of it has been acquired by very round-
about efforts of the understanding. Newton, to express
the fact of the solar rays producing different colours
through a prism, had recourse to the notion that the
white ray is a compound of seven coloured rays, which
eeeined to suit the appearances so far, but cannot be
laid to be rigorously a]>plical)le.

In human ati'airs it is often equally difficult to pre-
senc to thj eye the real powers or trains of causation
iLit govjni the facts. The sequences of the human
mind oj.nnot be seen except as shown in outwivrd
actions; and theru are often many intermediate links
lying b 'tween two successive outward appearances.
These in urniediatc links must be imagined by the help
of some :ir<'uni9lances suitalde for cinbodying them ;
an<l the i ivention of these appropriate representations
is a part >/f the process of the scientific investigation of
mind. Thus the laws of ii 'ellcct are expressed under
th'i figure of the aMocinttioii of ideas; and diifereut
883

kindi of aMociation are pointed out and ditcriminated
under the designations of Contiguity, Similarity, &o.

Thi« grand operation of passing from the superficial
to the deep aspects of natural phenoniana, and of find-
ing artificial representations of such things as have no
sensible aspect, has been generally styled Abstraction,
or the formation of Abstract ideas; but the ordinary ac-
ceptation of this phrase scarcely extends so wide as the
things we have now alluded to. We have already ex-
plained the more limited view of abstraction, and shown
it to consist in the determining and expressing of the
feature common to a number of things that are felt to
have some similarity. This feature may be represented
in many ways — as by a specimen chosen as an average
of the whole, by a diagram, or by a descriptive defi-
nition. When any laws of causation connect these
clarses of things with other things, the determination
of the common ingredient is essential, in order to stave
the ultimate or indivisible train of sequence. Thus
if we say that the burning of coal causes heat, we must
find the abstract idea of burning, or the fact common
to all cases of the action ; and this common fact will be
the true antecedent of the evolution of heat.

The creation of good representative ideas of the ob-
scure phenomena of nature, is one of the most difficult
efforts of scieutifi : p^enius, and is totally distinct from
the power of e;.|iion;iicntal inquiry. It requires a pe-
culiar boldness and felicity of mind, which belongs to
but a very small number even of such as expressly de-
vote themselves to the study of science. It was great
in Newton, in Lavoicier, and iu Dalton; and accord-
ingly they gave a vast impulse to human thought, and
opened up many new outleti of experimental investiga-
tion. But every j;ow and then experimental inquiry
feels the want of some great new conception to grapple
with, and express, a set of subtle and complicated ap-
pcarancea, that cannot be brought under the dominion
of law for want of this very thing.

One of the greatest examples of a true abstract idea,
which is at the same time a great artificial conception
of what cannot be conceived properly by means of the
superficial aspect of the cases where it occurs, is the
idea of polarity, or of a force which never exists except
double, there being always two opposing forces joined
together in the same mass. In the instance of the
magnet, the character of the force is more directly
apparent than in any of its other forma; but even in
this instance there are appearances that contradict it,
and prevent its being entertained by the mind. It is
only by a verv gradual operation, where experiment
has been roinbined with tlie exercise of thought, and by
the trial of niany modes of conceiving and expressing
fbe great hicden fact of magnetical and electrical phe-
nomena, tha:. the representative or abstract idea of
polarity has been gained by the human mind. The
experimental methods alone are helpless in such in-
quiries; the OiVafive and constructive intellect must
work in company with experimental inquiry, in order
to bring the understanding face to face with I'le things
that 're not revealed to the ordinary senses.

T' has always been in the world a recognised
clossitication of things called 'just' and 'justice;' but
for scientific purposes, it is necessary that some repre-
sentation of the feature common to all such things
should be got at by the comparison of instances, and
by the operation of the constructive intellect in shap-
ing a form of expression applicabl" "'ike to all.

The higher order of Abstractions obtain their ex-
pression by the putting together of Abstractions of an
inferior order. Thus the definition of -justice' would
involve the simpler idea of 'equality' in some shape or
other. So Mr Mill, in his definition of Property, makes
use of several ideas that must ]>t supposed to have been
previously defined bik! settled, or that adequate repre-
BcntatlonH have been already constructed for. Property,
he says, in substance, involves the right of each person
to the free use of whatever they have acquired by their
own labour, or obtained by free gift or fair agreement
from ot hers who have so acquired it. The terms ' right,'

LOOIO.

i-t

)stract idea,
conception
eans of the
iiri, is the
fists except
irces joined
,nce of the
directly
mt even in
iitrudict it,
d. It id
xperiment
ht, and by
xpressing
trical phe-
idea of
lid. The
such in-
llect nnist
in onler
lie things

recognised
8tice;' but
lome repre-
uch things
:ance8, and
:t in ehap-
ill.

their ex-
tions of an
ice' would
16 shape or
irty, makes
I have been
ate repre-
Property,
ach person
?d by their
agreement
lus' right,'

' fi«e gift,' ' fnir affroement,' are abitraotioni nippoied to
be previously settled and understood, otherwise the defi-
nition is insufficient. But it is by using one class of
clearly-represented and well-defined idebs from which
to construct others, that all the progress of human
thought is achieved,

FALLACIES, AND THE DISSECTION OF EVIDENCE.

A few observations on the nature of the more com-
mon fallacies, will serve to extend the illustration of
the principles and ideas that have already been ad-
vanced. There are various classes of fallacies, some of
which may be enumerated as follows : — 1st, Miscon-
ceptions arising from the suggestions of uncultivuieil
human nature; idli/, Fallacies consisting of errors in
ratiocination or deduction; idly. Fallacies of bad induc-
tion, or violations of the Experimental Methods; 4M/y,
Erroneous abstractions; and othly, Fallacies arising from
the defects and misuses of the instrumentality of rea-
soning — namely. Language.

We have sufficiently discussed the difficulty that the
human mind experiences in getting at nature's own
point of view of the trains of causation which support
the movements of the world. The first impressions of
outward things upon the mind are very far indeed from
the correct impr'-'ssions. In the first place, the appear-
ances presented to the senses are often the reverse of
the fact, as in the case of the heavenly motions. In
other caseai, we are led to believe that things are wheri-
they are not, ae in the way that wu are misled by the
refraction of light. Oui feelings of what gut-s on within
ourselves often sust'' ''t an exceeisingly false view of the
reality. For cxup i-le, the feeling wu sometimes expe-
rience of a sb along the norveii, gives us the belief of
an actual lluid motion taking place through tlie body.
Our touling of weight or gravity renders it very difficult
to admit the notion of the niitipodea, and of the round
form of the peopled earth. !n the next place, we ha\e
very strong instincts, that pervert our views of nature
still farther. We are very apt to suppose that what
we see and experience is the true type iind resemblance
of what we do not see, or that nature works everywhere
exactly as with us. Having no means of conceiving
the unseen except through ihe seen, and bning a,pt to
believe that our conceptions of things currespond to the
things themselves, we are led to assumu that particular
attitude of mind termed narrowness of view. Hence
the discredit thrown upon the statements of the earlj'
travellers respecting remote countries, such us Chimi,
Abyssinia, ami aboriginal Amei'ica, Another inveterate
prepossession of hunnm nature arises from the notinnf
that we form of force, power, and causation, arising
from our own sense of efibrt, action, and resistance.
We firmly believe that the activity and motions of the
world are carried on by some gigantic personality, in
exactly the same way that human beings go through
their various operations upon the outer world. 'I'here
is hardly any fallacy so completely opposed to the
truth of things as this. Tho active agency of human
beings, in moving matter from place to place, always
implies close contact with the things acted on. The
great peculiarity of natural powers, is their acting
through distance, or with intei.als of cn^pty space
between the agen*' and the thing acted on. Gravity
extends from heaven to earth, or through dis^.-nces of
millions of miles, lieat and light are equally remote
in their influences. But in the first considera ion of
these powers, the idea of close contact, derived from
human experience, wm so overpowering, that it wa^
considered impossible that these distant actions could
be maintained without some medium extending all the
way from one of the bodies to the other. This is the
real origin of the doctrines of an ethereal fluid pervading
space, to exercise the powers of gravity, light, and heat.
But for the misleading influence of our own sense of
force, the facts would have 1>een at once assumed as
the ordinances of nature, that one body can gravitaij
to another through empty space, and that one tjody can
Leal or light another apparently in the same way; and

we would have been content to ascertain what relationi
these actions had to distance, to the nature of the
bodies, and to the other circumstances concerned in
producing the effect. I'he human rice is not yet
emancipated from this fallacy.

The fallacies of erroneous ratiocination or deduction
are what are treated of under the scholastic or sylln-
eistic Logic, which professes to lay down all the correct
forms of the relation between premises and conclusion.
The defect of this logic is in stopping short where it
does, or in confining itsolf to a very small portion of
the region of fallacy. When an argument is presented
to our consideration, as bearing out some particular
conclusion, it may often be neccssaiy to trace back the
inductions and abstractions that the propositions are
made up of, as well as to see that these propositions
bear out the conclusion. Thus let us suppose that the
following argument were used against suicide: 'Suicide
is an unsocial act, therefore it ought to be treated by
society as an offence entailing disgrace upon the
memory of the individual.' Like all other steps
of deductive reasoning, this must consist of three dif-
ferent propositions, two premises, and a conclusion.
One of the premises, called the major, must be a gene-
ral assertion or affirmation, which must contain the
predicate of the conclusion. Thus in the present cese,
the major premise is, ' All unsocial acts are o<fencea
entailing disgrace upon the individual committing
them.' Tlic minor premise contains the subject of the
conclusion, and is in this case, ' Suicide is an unsocial
act.' The conclusion to be established is, ' Suioide
<loL'd or ought to entail disgrace on the actor.' Now,
as far as the form of the reasoning goes, tiiis is per-
fectly correct. If the first and second affirmations or the
premises are true, the third is true likewise : a scho-
lastic logician coul'i find no fault with the argument.
But it is clear that we ought not to ))e content with
this; wo must carry our scrutiny into the propositions
themselves — considering each of them to involve an
induci jn or deduction, and two abstractions ; and
we must see that these processes have been correctly
performed, or whether they can be verified by the ad-
mitted facts of the world. If we take the major pre-
mise, ' Unsocial acts are punishuhle ofienccs,' we find
ourselves called upon first to ascertain the exact defini-
tion of the class of things here cu'led unsocial acts, ct
to put into some less ambiguous liescriiition the acte
meant. Now when we cast uui mind about on the
actions referring to society, we find that there are some
directly hostile to social iiuerests; that there are others
quite indiftiirent; and a third cUqs that are not hottile,
and are yet not 'ndifi'eient, oimply LCCP.'.'se men choose
to put an artificial importance upon ther^ — such as tho
observance of conventional ceremouii'.i. Now if un-
social acts mean breot^hes of the li.'.vs enacted for the
common interests o'" society, the argument will have a
totally diflTerent turn from what it would take if we
mean by these acts things that society has no real con-
cern with. It would be adnilttcd, without further dis-
cussion, that antisocial acts are rightly punishab'e by
society. If we were now to pass to the minor pre-
mise, ' Suicide it> an unsocial act,' meaning thereby an
act hostile to the interests of society, a new scrutiny
would have to be comnn'nced a» to the truth of this con-
junction. The terms i f tin- ^jrop'isition being clearly
settled, »e liave to see whether h •crees with the fuota
of social Horkings, tiiut #uicide i» opposed to any one
great social interest, or whether, among the conse-
quences or cuUaterals of this particular act, there is to
bo found any one or more that conflict with the good
of human society. This stage of the discussion plainly
involves an examination of the actions and leactions
that occur among associated human beings, or of the
influences ex .rtcd by one man upon his fellows, through
the common bonds that unite each tr all the rest. VVe
must apply to the mass of social facts the experimental
and deductive methods, with a view to determine all
the links of causation established ir. this region of
things. The natural method of proceeding in an iu-

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR TlxH PEOPLE.

itance like the proient, would be in the first place to
enumerate nil tno acconipaiiiinentB that we can find
connected with the act of suicide in general; that is,
with all acts of suicide, or with the great proportion
of them. Ill the second place, we should have to de-
termine whether any of these accompaniments were
among the things that hare an antisocial character, or
obstruct any of tlio general interests of society. No-
thing less than such a pti'cedure as this is sutiicient for
the determination of the question raised. Hut it is
obvious, that by going through this process for one
question, we will necesaarily settle a number of points
Uiat will serve for many other questions. Certain
general ideas will have received clear definitions, and
certain propositions will be inductively or deductively
established, and will be so many additions to the stock
of human knowledge and certainty. This is the ten-
dency of all genuine studies, or of every decision that
is come to after a due course of inquiry and examina-
tion under the guidance of sound logical principles.
All decisions made in ar' other way arc labour ex-
pended in return for error &■ v' delusion.

From such an instance as we have now given, it will
be seen that fallacies may lurk in the deductive, induc-
tive, and alistractive steps of an inference, one or all ;
and hence the reason for adopting these designations as
the heads of a classification of fallacies. An error must
exist whenever any one of these processes is insufli-
ciently performed ; and to rectify the error, wo must
revert to the rules for their accurate perfurniance,
which are founded on what we have seen to bo the
essential characters of each process.

A very large class of fallacies is included under the
Abuse of Language, which is the iiiBtrument of the
greater part of our reasonings, and of all of them that
can come under the province of Logic. Many of these
fallacies are not to be distinguished from such as como
under the other heads. Hut Language has certain
tendencies of a fallacious kind, that make a class apart
from all the rest. It is apt to stand in our minds in
the room of the facts that it expresses, and thus to ob-
struct our view of tlic realities of the world. Beiiif; a
powerful iiiBtruinent for fixing ideas in the mind, it
gives equal aid to the false and to the true, and thereby
perpetuates the reign of whatever errors have once been
clothed in words. AVe have formerly seen that the use
of a general name is a perpetual affirmation of simi-
larity among the things to which it a)iplie8. Hence if
a wrong generalisation has been made in any case, or if
a certain number of things have been falsely declared
to have a common feature, the general name is the in-
strument of circulating and maintaining the falsehood
in the world. Another evil that arose out of the na-
ture of Language was connected with the tendency that
there is to recognise the separate existence of whatever
has a separate name, Honcc arose the doctrine of
realism, or the notion that abstractions had a distinct
and dependent existence, a:id that concrete objects
were actually fdrmed by the union of their absti-act
constituents. Thus wisdom, virtue, government, round-
ness of form, hardness, which have each a distinct
name, and are distinguished by the human intellect,
were thence supposed to have distinct existence, or
could bo found apart from tlie complex objects that we
call 'wise,' 'virtuous,' 'round,' ' hardness,' &c. The
great scholastic vjontrovorsy uf the middle .ige tunicd
upon this question, and it was not till the seventeenth
century that it wai> generally a<imitted that these ab-
stractions had no more than a mere intellectual or verbal
distinctness uf existence.

The forms of l,anguage are liable to mislead us in
the way of confounding verbal with real jiropositions
or definitions with affirmations of principles. The defi-
nition has the orime verbal form as the proposition,
* A triangle i^ .i liirce-sided figure,' and 'A triangle has
two of its sides greater than the third,' have the very
M.mo structure of enunciation; but the one is a defi-
nition, or a declaration of the nature «f the thing that
we name 'triangle;' the other is a proposition, or an
M4

affirmation of the conjunction of two things — namely,
the triangular fonn, and the fact that two of the sidea
taken together are greater than the third. The defi-
nition is not a thing of affirmation or d>^nial in the
same sense ai the proposition ; what it afiirms is not a
law of nature, but the conjiinction of a name and a
thing; and the truth or falsehood of the assertion is
not dependent on any facts uf nature, liut on human
contention. The mistaking of a verbal for a real pro-
position, owing to he frequent similarity cf their form,
IS one of the most coraiuon fallaoies arising out of thu
nature of Language,

THE LOGIC OP THE SCIBNCB8.

The general laws and abstractions that arc arrived
at by the methods above described, are collected to-
gether under separate heads, according to the subjects
to which they relate; and each collection of generalities
is called a Science. When the aggregate is formed on
the plan of taking in all that belongs to one distinct
department of natural phenomena, wo have a pure or
an abstract science. Thus the collection of laws that
has reference to the natural group of organised and
living bodies makes up the pure science of Life, which
has been termed pliytiohgy or hivloijy. Hut when the
truths of nature are brought together from different
regions of phenomena to serve sonie practical purpose,
or to c:.i>lain some local appearances, the aggregate is
a mi.ied or concrete science. Thus in the science of
medicine, the liiws of physical, chemical, ond physio-
logical actions are brought to bear upon the practical
end of erring disease ; and in the science of geology
there is -j, similar gathering of doctrines to explain the
compltc appearances of the earth's crust. The classi-
ficailo:' of the abstract sciences will therefore follow
th;.' different kinds of action that are made use of in
nature; while the mixed and concrete sciences will be
as various as the practical objects of life, and the local
contiguities of different modes of operation.

M. Augustu Comte was the first to carry out to the
full this great distinction among the sciences, and to
give a rigorous definition of tho abstract division. The
alistract sciences, according to him, are Mathematics,
Astronomy, Physics, Chemistry, lUology, and Sociology,
corresponding to the six primary or fundamental clashes
of natural properties and actions. Mathematics has
reference to number, quantity, and extension; Astro-
nomy is the science of gravitation ; Physics the science
of cohesive masses of matter; Chemistry includes the
atomic afiinities if unlike substancjs; Biology treats
of the laws of living beings; and Sociology has reference
to the structure of human society. The order now given
has been shown by M, Comte to bo the true natural
order and succession of these sciences, being the order
of their first discovery, as well as the order of their easy
comprehension and natural dependence. At present,
in speaking of the general or abstract sciences, we shall
prefer to include Astronomy witL Physics, and to de-
tach the science of mind from the comjirehensive branch
relating to living beings. The arrangement will then
stand thus : Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, Biology
(Life), Psychology (Mind), Sociology (Society), These
lay hold of six different groups or classes of natural
appearances and laws; and there is not, as far as we
know, any fact, process, or operation in the world, that
does not come under some or other of these six heads.
The knowledge ot' Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry,
Vegetable anil Animal Physiology and Anatomy, the
Human Mind and Human Society, is the knowledge
of the whole of nature. If we are versant in all the
laws and abstractions of each of tiicse six subjects, we
are prepared to understand every event that can pos-
sibly occur in the world. We may not have carried out
these laws to all ]io88ible cases of practical and local
ap|)lication ; but we are prepareii to comprehend and
appreciate every instance of their being so carried out.

The natural dependence of the abstract sciences in
the order now given maybe explained thus: — E.ich one
is dependent on all that lie above it, and is a basis of

Loaic.

— nameljr,
the aidot
The defi-
ial in the
18 ia not a
ino and a
igertion U
)U human
, real pro-
;heir form,
}Ut of the

iro arrived
Hected to-
la Bubjccts
general stiea
formed on
ne distinct
) a pure or
f laws that
Miised and
Life, which
t when the
111 different
al purpose,
iggregute ia
1 science of
md physio-
le practical

of geolopy
explain the

The classi-
efore follow
le use of in
ncea will be
nd the local

[y out to the
ces, and to
ision. The
[utheniatics.
Sociology,
tal clasiies
enintics has
lion; Astro-
ttic science
ncludes the
logy treats
as reference
, now given
rue natural
ig the order
" their easy
At present,
:es, we shall
and to de-
isive branch
it will then
try, Biology
ity). These
of natural
V8 far as we
world, that
six heads.
Cheniistry,
latoniy, the
knowledge
in all the
lubjects, we
,bt can pos-
carried out
il and local
reliend uiid
larried out.
sciences in
— Each one
s a basis of

all that lie below it; and as wo proceed from ths top
to the bottom of the libt, wo pais from the nio«t simple
and most universal properties and laws to aoch at are
more complex and limited; in other words, thc-re it a
connection of dependence and of generality: tl.e first
■cienoas are the least dependent and the rajst general,
the last are the most dependcat and the moat speciul,
Af a' hematics, which treats of inngnitudo and numerical
properties and laws, extends to all the materials iti<d
uperations of tho universe; everything that exists hitt
the projierty at being more or less, and is subject to the
laws of quantity. Tho phenomena of all the other
Boiencea come under tho scop? of mathematics, and often
depend directly on its doctrines, while these doctrines
are themRelves quite independrnt of all other proper-
ties. Physics and Chemistry would be completely up-
set if any of tho Arithmetical or (leometrical laws or
rules wore to change; but no alteration in the physical
or chemica) properties could affect tho numerical pro-
]ierties of tilings: throe thites six would be eighteen,
and the binomial theorem would lie eternal, whatever
revolution was produced in the laws of heat or atomic
proportions,. But if ^ve take the phi/aical properties of
matter, which include the laws of the aggregation of
bodies, and the ibur agencieo of gravity, heat, elec-
tricity, and light, we find that these are dependent on
the numerical properties of matter, and independent of
its chemical properties. Physical properties are super-
added to form and size, and vary with these attributes,
while chemical properties are a subsequent addition.
The chemical powers are modified by physical states,
but physical powers are not modified by chemical cha-
racteristics. Gravity ucts upon all bodies the same,
whatever their chemieal afhnitios may be, and would
continue to act though these were abolished. In like
manner, the vital properties of matter are modified by
the numerical, physical, and chemical properties, with-
out reacting upon these so ns to alter their character.
So tho laws of Minrf are still more complex and depen-
dent, and so much the more limited and special. Not
only all matter, but all possible or conceivable exist-
ence, shows mathematical attributes; all matter shows
physical characters; a certain portion of matter is placed
under the sweep of chemical combinations and decom-
positions; a selort fraction of this is organised into the
forms of life; and a still more limited portion is em-
ployed in connection with the appearances of mind.
Unless we know all that can happen from numerical
combinations, wo cannot exjilain physical phenomena:
we need both numerical and physical, as well as che-
mical, knowledge to comprehend chemical phenomena;
and all the three arc required aa a preparation for the
science of life. Any attempt to explain one class of
properties while we are in ignorance of the previous
classes, is an inversion of the order of things, and is
nearly as hopeless as the ascent to a height without
passing through the intermediate spaces. The laws of
phenomena obtained previous to the understanding of
all that should precede such phenomena, can at best
be but empirical laws, and must be strictly limited to
the circumstances where they have been observed. The
laws of physiology are almost wholly empirical, owing
to our iniperlect iic((uaintance with the physical and
chemical operations -oncerned in the vital processes.

Each of the six luiidamental sciences has a logical
ciiw~wter of its own — that is to say, the method of
proceeding for establishing the general laws and pro-
perties that make up any one science varies with the
nature of the phenomena included in it. Hence the
cultivation of each confers a distinct and separa*^'.- dis-
cipline on the intellectual faculties. Astronomy, for
example, carries to the highest perfection the vw,) pro-
cesses of observation and deduction. In no other sci?nce
have the means and devices of accurate observation
been so much improved ; and, on the other liand, as ali
tho phenomena can be deduced from the ultimate laws
of mechanica, combined with the law of gravitation,
with the most complete numerical accuracy, the science
affords a perfect iustonce of the deductive method of

arriving at trxiths. If wo pnai ftnm Aitronomy to tor«
restrial Physics, including the laws cf solid, liquid, and
liai, heat, mechanics, hydrostatics, optics, electricity,
Iki:. WA And ourselves in the domain of experiinont,
which it entirely inadmissible in the celestial physics;
and the uultlvatiun of the experimental devices, of ex-
cluding and including known causes and c'rcumstancea,
is in the highest degree practicable. For the last two
centuries, Physics has been the great field of experi-
mental research; and it may be said that the art of
accuro,te experimenting was first ncciuircd in this field,
although it has since been extended to other branches,
'I ho uxperiments that decided tho wcii;ht and pressure
of the atmosphere, Newton's oxperirnvnts ou light, tho
researches of Dr Black on latent heat, and the very
extensive experimental ini^uiries that have been made
within the last seventy years on Klectricitv, may bo
alluded to as illustrious not only in the history of
Physics, but in the progress of tho human reason.
Chemistry is, like Physics, a highly experimental
sciciK't', but itu disfcinguishiiig feature is its having to
provi lo for a classificatiun of the materials of the globe
according ■ their composition. As it shows that tho
earth cousims of about sixty simple substances, which
have almost an infinite capacity of combining into
compounds, it has to ascortain the circumstances at"
tending on all combinations and decompositions, and
to make a regular classification of all the resulting
bodies according to tho simples that make them up.
For this it has to invent u grand system of nomencla-
ture and arrangement, such as is not required to the
same extent in any other science, but is not without
its use, apart from the immediate purposes of che-
mistry. 'J.'he science of life requires, as its peculiar
auxiliary, a system of classification by genera and
species, and carries this device to its utmost perfection.
In like manner the sciences of mind and society have
their peculiarities of method, or their special contribu-
tions to the logical cultivation of the human intellect.
The lessons that all the leading sciences agree in cul-
tivating are — the supremacy of reason over sense and
instinct, and the necessity of bringing all assertions to
the test of rigorous proof. ^Vc shall now advert to
the fundamental sciences, with tho view of bringing
prominently forward the peculiarities of tho classes of
phenomena which they severally include : —

The science of Mathtmatics is divided into two greafi
branches — the one Abstract, inclui'ing Arithmetic,
Algebra, and tho higher or transcendental AnalyfiiB ;
the other is called Concrete, and takes in Geometry
and General Mechanics. The Abstract branches con-
sider number and quantity in general without reference
to any special things numbered or quantitatively esti-
mated. The Concrete branches refer to peculiar kinda
of quantity; the one. Geometry, referring to space and
the forms of things occupying space ; and the other,
General Mechanics, being devoted to motion and the
things necessary for expressing motion — namely, space
and time. Mathematics proper, however, is usually
considered to terminate with Geometry.

Arithmetic reposes upon tho ten figures and tho
decimal notation. Without inventing names for the
successive numbers, and adopting some principle for
cvpresaing shortly and systematically the higher sums,
no nation could ever progress in Arithnjetical calcula-
tion, or in the arts and sciences where it is much re-
quired. The chief business of Arithmetic comes to be
the reducing of all possible combinations of numbers
to one universal form, or to the gradations of units,
tens, hundreds, kc. Thus the multiplication table,
which contains the fundamental laws of the science,
merely serves to show how to reduce products of any
two numbers to a product where ten shall be one of the
factors. * Nino times seven are sixty-three,' means
th.it if a row of seven be taken nine times, the sum-
total will be the same as six rows of ten a. i three
over. When all products are reduced to the one deci-
mal scale, their comparison among themselves becomes
mucb !!iore easy than if they were kept in all variety

365

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE Pit' Pl.f!:.

of RcalM. If we wiik to compare nine i\mtm ik with
eluvcn timoi (ir«, we find it most conT«ui«iit to brinj;
botli iito product* of tci>«, I'jr muking the onft flfty-t'uur,
and tiie other filty-firo.

Algebra ii a higher procesg than Arithmetic, and
bai b«tn defined the reduction of eauationi. Ita main
peculiarity liw in putting two diftoront complex ex-
proHioni that are equal over n' iiiat one another, and
then in operating upon the two udding, ■ubtraoting,
&e. the lanie thing* from both. .., a« ntill to pre.i«rv«
the equality, and at the laniu 'nne to bring the e(|ua-
tion to aome ainiple form that will give the value c* ii
fiiigln ingredient of the original expreaaion. Thua an
easy qucation in Algebra would be to find a nciniber
which, when added to ita square, would givo .><>.
Here an equation would be tbrnied by putting 5ii
on one aide, and on the other uii expreaaion of a num-
ber ailded to ita si]uaro, the number being represented
by a letter (auch a* x), and the buaincss would then
be to operate on this equation til! it is reduced to an-
other with nothing on the one aide but the representative
of the number itaelf, in which case the other aide would
givo the actual number in arithmetical figuras. The
higher analyiiia was invented by Newton and Leibnitz
to solve such questions us computing the areas and
circumferences of curved surfaces, and the spaces and
times of accelerated and retarded motions.

Geometry treats of the laws and properties of lines,
aurfacea, nnd solids, straight or curved. It has two
branches — Special and (ieiioral Geometry : the one is
exemplitivd in Kuclid, who treats each figure by itself
in aucceasion, as in triangles, circles, &c. General
Geometry treats whole ciasacs of figures at once by
stating them in Algebraical Language.

General or Rational Mecbanios lays down tlie first
principles or laws of motion, and applies these to cal-
culpte the ett'octs of all possible kinds of forces, aingio
or combined. It mulros an important distinction be-
tween forces that are counterbalanced so as to produce
itjst or equilibrium, and forces productive of movement ;
this gives rise to tv/o bra/ '','•; ijamcd Statics and Dy-
namics. To determine *;ii.o f .i-h of a projectile is a
simpte mechanical prolnyu; tW! forces are given, which,
separately, would prwi'iw «r;.dn known ettects, and
the question is tofi',, i t.i'Mifet": of both acting together.
Aitronotni is the i'-^th i'Ctwoen General Mechanics
and terrestriiU Physics: ii. 'd it case of motion and forces
whtre the natural agent, gi.vitpr, is brought into the
question. Experimental induction having traced out
uie law of gravity as the power concerned i:i keeping
the heave I ly bodies together, the principles of mecha-
nics enable us to compute, by the help of mathematics,
all the consequences of this agency — that is, if we find
that the moon is acted on both by the e^irth and by the
Run, with a certain energy depending on the n.>i8g and
distance of each, it is ])ossible to calculate whnt course
she will describe under the two actions, and where sho
will be at any specified time. Or the great p >! ).nu
of Astronomy may be stated thus: (iiven the pre^. ut
position of any one body in reference to all the oitiers
that act upon it, and given the eiiect of each of these
for a certain instant ot ti. <e, and also the body's own
proper movement, to find where it will be uii hour, a
day, or at any time, hence ; this, it will geetn, is only
a more complicated case of the question as to the path
of a jirojectile. There are certain terrestrial actions —
as the Tides — which come under Astronomy from their
being caused by distant gravitation.

The first branch of Terrestrial Physiea is commonly
termed the Prope'.tiei of Matter, meaning thereby the
laws and peculiarities of the aggregation of matter into
solid, liquid, and ga». The next agency that we come
upon after gravity, is the cohesive power that binds the
atoms of bodies into masses of more or less finnnoss of
structure. It requires us to recognise as a first prin-
ciple of the composition of the material <Torld, that
all its substances are made up of exceedingly small
particles or atoms, which are gifted with powers of
mutual attraction and repulsion; md ituaer the action
366

of these powen become, according to the way tbbk
tf y happen to be adjusted, aolidt of moro or less ctini
I'actnesa, li<iuids, or aira. Theae powera of adhp«,i;s
ar# very varietl and unct^ual, and in thia nnyuk
tvntraat with the uniformity and regularity of ih«
gravitating force. They not only diHi-r in diffe'i.n*
subatancea, but they difl'or in the aauii- auh^tance, in
oonaequence of there being a grand pervail. >< energy
of nature supplied in the flrat instance by the lu'^,
which ia able to ovcrrulf liii! modify them! In fii t,
the adhesion of atom to atoi'i 'in a sobd or liquid ia , he
result of n nntiinil a*;t,T<.T''i.i between the particles
resisted up to a certain point by a repuiiion infuaed
into them from without., i>v the all-pervading influence
that we term Hoat, and which we apeak and think of
as a subtle aubstanco or lluid like air, but which it
more properly a grand relation of mutual itction be-
tween all material bodies, whereby they atl'ect one an-
other's atomic constitution whenever i. peculiar balance
or ('(luilibrium is disturbed. It ia very inconsistent with
our rudo instinctive notions of force, to suppose that he-
cuuBO wiine change buii cume over the interior attractions
and repulsions of one body, a aet of analogous changes
will be propagated to all bodies in the neighbourhood
till some state is given to eit<:h consistent with the repose
of the whole. But having once admitted the principle
of action through distance, without anv intorinediato
filling up of the interval between the bodieu, there is
no reason why we should not prepare oMrcflvea for
finding other cases of the eaino kind of ocMon though
varying in the details.

The first division of Terrestrial Physics being the
Laws of Material Aggregation, and tho second the
Laws of Heat, it is usual to follow theso up with Prac-
tical ?tlechanics. Hydrostatics, Pneumallc«, and Acoun-
tica, which involve no r.ew first principle nov contained
in the previous deparcn;ent». There, then, remain the
two subjects of Electricity and Light, each involving a
distinct natural agency. Electricity has now been com-
jiletely generalised, and shown to be a wide ranging
power of the polar nature, which puts on many forms
according <o its inateriHl connections, but invariably
maintains the character of a polar or double force.
There are no less than six or seven subordinate
branches, falling under two grand divisions, which are
distinguished by the terms Statical or Kepoding, and
Dynamical or Ci-.rrent Electricity. The first of tho sub-
ordinate branches is the oldest — namely. Magnetism,
where the polarity is most conspicuously exhibited,
from its acting on large masses of iron or other mag-
netic nietf).!. Tho second of the Statical branches is
Frictional Electricity, or the electricity of the coniinou
machine. Tliis branch was created in the latter half
of last century by Franklin and others. The firat of
the Dynamical branches is termed Voltaic Electricity,
or the excitement of the voltaic pile, which first showed
tho close connection between electricity and chemical
action. Next follow Electro-Magnetism and Magneto-
Electricity, being tho laws of tht derivation of mag-
netism from electricity, and conversely of electricity
from magnets. Thermo-Electrioity is the derivation
of the excitement from heat, v'hich completes the proof
of the connection between these two great natural
powers. In addition to all these, cL ctricity has to be
considered in its relation to aninial and vegetable
bodies, as being both produced end expended within
the living erganisni.

The subject of Light has, in aome of ita bearings, been
set forth with great diatinctness, as in all the mathe-
matical relations of its incidence, reflection, and refrac-
tion on surfaces; but as to ita origin and ultimate
action on tho surfaces that it renders visible, and on
tho receiving surface of the eye, nothing is yet known.
Most bodiea, when heated to some given temperature,
become luminous; but it does not appear that any of
their heat is wasted in supplying the nys of light; so
that although an undoubted connection subsists be-
tween light and heat, it is totally different from the
relation of heat to electricity. Hot bodies give light

way tlir.k

- leu <'ii)i<
' adhpr.iT,
in reht»fc*
ity n( (,*•.'••
( tlifft.-v»i
I'' tone*, ia
1 X energy
y the •I'-',
. Ill fi; t,
quid i« , fie
e particleH
ion inCuied
,g intlui'iice
1(1 think of
Jt which i*
ivction be-
set ono aii-
liar balance
ait>teiit with
ose that be-
r attractioiiH
oils ubai\f;«i
Khbourhifod
,\i the repose
he principla
iitermediate
iieu, there is
lurnclven for
ition though

;g being the
second the
p with Pruc-
, and AcouB-
u. contained
1, reniiiin the
1 involving a
jw been coni-
vido ranging
many form*
it invariably
louble force,
subordinate
J, which are
iepoainji!, and
It of the sub-
Miignetism,
iy exhibited,
other nia^-
branchei) is
tliii conimou
le latter half
The first of
|c Electricity,
first showed
>nd chemical
|nd Magneto-
,ion of mug-
if electricity
|e deriration
ftes the proof
Ireat natural
lity has to be
»d vegetable
mded within

parings, been
the mathe-
1, and refrac-
Ind ultimate
lible, and on
Is yet known,
^temperature,
that any of
J of light; so.
I subsists be-
Int from the
\t giTO light

LOOIC.

bodies,

ntiire.

wer

in addilioH to their heating power; but if such iKnlies
are made to yield electricity, their heat is connumed
or wasted in the act «f being turned into ctrctria ex-
citement. No means has yet been found of invosti-
galinif the changes wi 'light in the surfaces of bodies
by the action of liitht; but the invention of the Daguer-
reotype seems to tie a beginning in litis direotinn.

Chemistry is ndated to I'hvMcs through II' U and
Electricity. It treats of iho i ircunistances and laws
of the combination of simples into cninpounds, and the
resolution of compounds into simples. The kind of
combination here niciuit is something quite different
from mechanical mixture, as when sand and lime are
put together to make iiiortar; it is ditterent even from
solution. It takes place in fixed proportions, and ends
in producing out of two substances a third no ditl'uront
from either, that it could never be suspected to be
made up as it really i;i. Chemical combinations like-
wise g:ve forth heat, or produce that genei'l disturb-
ance in the atomic condition of surroun
that goes under the name of raising th(
The chemical properties of a substiui'
of entering into combinations, or '
tions, with other substances; a bo>:
can uxhibit no chemical relation; hen<
of the idea of binary combination in ohci ii

there ^ no reason to suppose that three ti .„.. may .lOt
cumbinc together in the same act ati well as two.

Combination and dccoroposition being the gri'iit lacts
of chemistry, it became an accurate science when tho
laws of these processes were ascertained by Ualton. A
groat part of chemical research during the last fmty
years has boci, devoted to finding the simples that go
to make up the complex substances of the globe, the
possible combinations of these ;iimple8, luid the num-
bers to be assigned to each as indicating the proportion
that they bear in comb 'iig with one another. Devices
have had to be inventt I for bringinj.' about combina-
tions aii'J decompositions in all possible cases, as if often
happens that these cannot take place in any obvious
or direct way. Chemistry is usually divided into Inor-
ganic and Or^'anic. Organic Chemistry treats nf the
chemical coni position and actions of the substances
that arc formed in the vegetable and animal processes.
As distinguished from tho materials presented by tho
mineral and inorganic world, these substances are all
very complex. Sugar if by nc means a, extreme ex-
ample of organic complexity of combiiution; but ( •o
of its atoms contains twenty times as many atoms ><!'
simples as an ordinary inorganic acid, such as oil of
vitriol. The products of the aninnil tissues are far
more complex than even this. The number of sub-
stances in nature that are chcmiciU^ distinct may
amount to hundreds of thousands, giving thus a pro-
digious choice for human purposes when once they
come to be properly known. I here is scarcely a tl.,^.e
vegetable or animal species tuat docs not yield some
peculiar and characteristic chemical comjiound.

Organic Chemistry is the link connecting chcniistry
with the science of living bodies. It is necessary to
know fully all the physical anil chemical properties of
the tissues and substances used in vegetable and animal
life, in order, by their separation according to the ex-
perimental method of residuas, to ascertain «'iat func-
tions are due to vital powers and properties, rightly so
called. Thus the act of digestion is performed partly
by the physical action of solution, and partly, it would
appear, by chemical combination ; but when these are
allowed for, there still remains a portion of tho effi'ct
to be ascribed to a power different from either.

The general science of Life is divided into Vegetable
and A-iimal Anatomy and Physiology. Anatomy is
understood to mean the description of the organised
structure of living bodies; and Physiology describes the
processes and changes that go on within them.

The great foundation peculiarity of an organised
structure is, that it is made up not of atoms, but of
cells, which have the power of breaking up and giving
birth to other cells from a uuc1«ub in tlieir interior or

in their walls. Those cells adharo together, tnd form
tissues, which, in the livingstate, go continually through
tho nrnceas of decay and rvnewul, by the operation of
tho Bursting of old cells and thu growth of new. The
contact of a cellular mass with certain kinds of unor-
ganised matter is suHleient to convert the whole of this
mutt>)r into vital tissue, by making it go topthi r into
cnhert'ut cells; the principle of like producing ike, or
of tile 'iiniiuunication to a shaixdess mass of form and
orjjfanisution by tho touch of wnat is already organised,
being one '•( ific laws ot vitality.

The griifid ditticulty in phyitioliigical science is to
explain hmv so small a |i<iint as the seed of a plant, or
the germiniil natter of un animal, can contain withiti
itself such a definite Impress ns to determine exactly
the character of the future expandcil being. Hut we
ought to consider, that although llie whole futurity of a
man may at one stage be contained in two or three c'i. : ■
yet each of those celh, in comparison with the ulti .ift'i
atoms that make it up, is like the whole of St P" ii'« '<«
compared with a »inglo stone; and therefor' .r.tvis
abundant room hr its containing all the essei. Ai ci:v
laeteristics of the full-grown indiviilual, although they
cannot be traced oven by the microscope.

Tho recent discoveries in anatomy yn far to simplify
the animal structure. Professor Owen lias lately com-
jdeted a most important demonstration in respect to
tho vertebrate skeleton, or the bony framework of all
that class of animals that have a backbone, as distin-
guished from shell-fish and the other creatures where
the hard skeleton surrounds the ileshv and soft parts.
Ho has shown that all these animals, from tho fish and
reptile, up to man, are made on ono pattern, varied to
suit their different peculiarities; and that a fundamen-
tal or general skeleton can be assigned as the point of
departure for the whole. What is still more singular,
this fundamental skeleton is a repetition of the same
'ioco from head to foot. In fact, if we take one of the
vertebru! of the backbone, we have an example of the
simple pie-e, which, by being repeated and modified,
I'akes the ihole skeleton of a man, a quadruped, a
bird, a fish, ..r a reptile. Four vertebne joined together,
and haviiF)! some of their parts more expanded than
usual, constitute the head and the two arms. So that
to make the skeleton of any animal, what is required
Hist is a sufiicient number of these vertebral cross
pieces; and in the next place, a determination of the
extent of growth that is to take place in their several
;. arts, so as to suit the demands of the species proposed
lo be created. Professor Owen has been able to iden-
tify every bone of every animal of the vertebrate class
with tho corresponding bone of every other animal,
through all their changes of form, and also to assign
the portion of a vertebral cross-piece that every one of
them sprung from. As regards the complicated struc-
ture of the head, Mr Owen has had the glory of com-
pleting the identification through thn whole species,
and of finally clearing up all the doubts and per-
plexities that were left hanging around the subject by
the most illustrious of his predecessors. One magnifi-
cent idea may now be said to reign through this wide
■•egion of nature's works, which includes the nobler
half of the entire animal creation.

As the mind of man is a portion of the living
system, and as a special organ is devoted to its action
on tlic framework, the study if this organ — the brain —
under anatomy and physiology, might naturally be
supposed to be the prelude to the science of mind.
In this point of view, psychology would be the natural
sequel to f!ie general science of life. But it so happens
that this is not the only way of apytroaching the subject
of minii: had it been so, we should havd been in total
iifnorance of the mental phenomena until within the
last few years; for it is only of late that any progress
has been made in tracing the laws of mind from the
anatomy of its material organ. There are two other
great sources of knowledge on this subject — namely, the
outward appearances and manifestations of thought,
and feeling, and consciousness; and the inward sense

367

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OHAMBEBffS INVOBHATIOK FOB THE PEOFLE.

tL Kt eMh indiTiduid hat of what paMM within himMlf.
Tlieie liATa Immii iUuatntcd in our prerioui number
(71) on the Human Mind.

But there can be no doubt but that the future pro-
gr«M of anatomical and phTiiological dieooTery will
aot poweiftilljr in throwing light upon the laws and
pRHtertiee of mind. It ie not the diaeeotion of the
taun alone that we depend on : the itructure of the
organ! of lenfe and of the muacular system, which are
the tenninating points of the great proportion of the
nervous threads, is of equal consequence. But no part
of the system is unimportant in Its bearing upon the
thoughts, feelings, actions, and Tolitions of the mind.
And if ever the laws of mind should be completdy
traeed through '.\^ medium of the anatomy of the
fcameworlc (a thing coarcely to be hoped for), piycho-
logT would become purely a dependent branch of
biology; but in the meantime it possesses an indepen-
dent existence, and it has in all a^ been studied,
and in some measure understood, without the help of
any of the other abstract sdenoes that stand before it.
This is perhaps the only apparent break in the strict
dependence of the six fundamental sciences.

The great peculiarity of the method of psychology
henceforth must be the reconcilement of the indications
of the three difierent sources of knowledge — anatomy,
external manifestations, and consciousness. No prin-
ciple of human nature can be finally accepted, till it is
Terifled in all the three ways.

Sociology, or the sdence of human society, comes
last of idl, as being most complex, or as inTolving all the
phenomena of the previous sciences. The arrangements
of sodety depend on the properties of the inorganic and
organic world on the one hand, and on the character of
the mind of man on the other. The life of men and of
sodeties is restricted by the mathematical, astronomical,
phyncal, chemical, and vital laws and conditions of the
sarKounding world, and is rendered more perfect in
proportion as these are better knor- u.

The more immediate dependence of the structure of
society on the peculiarities of the mind of roan, has
enabled the subject to be studied along with this last
from the verv dawn of human speculation, and while
all the preceding faiences were in their infancy. But it
has been shown by M. Comte, that every advance in these
sciences has been accompanied with some correspond-
ing advance in the mode of viewing social questions ;
so that all hiitory attests the existence of a real depend-
ence under the outward appearance of indopendence.

The greatest simplification that has been made in the
complicated subject of society, has arisen from carrying
out a distisrtioK derived from the anterior sciences ; the
distirtctiou in Mechanics between Statics and Dynamics;
and in Biology between the powers that maintain or
ganic life antt the powers that bring about tho progresm
of the being from one stage to another. In society, the
terms Order and Progress express tho two correspond-
ing ideas. Order means the maintenancti of the peace-
aUe workings of any one society ; Progress means the
advancement fifom one arrangement to another of a
superior kind — as from the state of slavery to the state
of liberty. By discussing the two subjects apart, all the
questions relating to society and history are at once
need from the latest share of the embarrassments and
difficulties that have always surrounded them.

The doctrines of Social Order are more particularly
dependent on the laws of humF ii nature, and are ad-
vanced in precision ezactlv in proportion to the accu-
ncy of our Knowledge of these laws. The Aindamental
idea of society being the harmonious co-operation of a
multitude for the Mtter attainment of common ends,
and the first step in the working out of this idea being
the setting up of a central government, or ruling power,
the grand requisite of good order is obedimee to this
power. Where the government is obeyed, order reigns,
whatever other evils may exist; where successful dis-
obedience has occurred, there is dimrder or anarchy
To secure obedience is, therefore, the problem of Order;
and this must be accomplished by connecting the go-
- M8

vemment with some of the most powerful reigning im-
pulses of the human mind. If the sentiment of filial
obedienoe be very strong, and if the people can be hi-
duced to consider the supreme civil ruler as a father,
they will be disposed to render him obedience with the
whole force of their filial devotion. If the religious
sentiment is high in a people, and if they can be made
to believe in«the Divine right of kings, obedience may
be secured from this source. If society is so constituted
as visibly to be for the advantage of the majority of its
members, the sentiment of seli\taterest will suffice to
keep up the spirit of obedience. It will thus be seen
that the supports of Order are such of the mainsprings
of human action as can, for the time, be brought into
harmony with the principle or pretence that lies at the
foundation of the existing government. Hence the
character of the people is an important consideration
in determining the means of securing their obedience.

Order not only implies a harmonious relation between
the mass of a people and their central government— it
extends to all the smaller associations mduded within
the greater. The proper oonstitbtion of local govern-
ments, of the spiritual government, of the family, of
the relations of master and servant, teacher and pupU,
is a matter of adjustment according to the prevtuling
impulses of the individuals concerned, and no one rule
can be made universal in any of the cases.

Progress, which is also termed Civilisation, means
the advancement from one state of Order to a higher,
or to a state where a superior class of the impulses and
capacities of man ore brought into action. When a go-
vernment, based on the superstitious prostration of tne
mind, gives place to one recognised by: the reason, on
the grounds of its contributing to the well-being of th^
society, a step of progress has been achieved. Si>, when
a clear knowledge of affairs in a ruler, instead of the
arts of oratonr, is the means of gaining a people's
confidence and co-operation, the society has entered a
higher stage of advancement.

The proper meaning of Civilisation is the application
of intelligence to the iminovement of the human con-
dition. It includes all that is not derived immediately
from nature; in other words, nature and civilisation
together make up the whole of human existence. The
instinctive capacities of men are the immediate ^ft of
nature; the powers acquired by the use of intelligence
and will, confirmed into habits, and transmitted by in-
struction from age to age, are dviiisation. The ori^al
genius, or inventive capacity of man, is the origm of
eveiything included in human progress. Consequently
dviiisation consists of as many distmct streams as there
are divisions in the arts of life and the creations of the
human intellect. The induttrial arts, the training arit,
the healing arts, the artt amf form* of social interoourse,
the art tf gwemmeut, morality, religion,, science, the
fine arts, literature, and the art qf living, are all in-
cluded in this one comprenensive designation.

But it is especially important for our present pur-
pose, which is to consider the dependence of the diffe-
rent branches of knowledge,, to call attention to the
fact, that although we have named eleven dififerent
branches of civilisation, there is one that is at the
centre of the whole, or so related to every one of them,
that if we concentrate our resards upon it as we pass
along the stream of human history, we sliall thereby
detect the' very essence of what progress there may
have been. This central and predominating port is
science, meaning thereby more particularly the abstract
or fundamental sdences as re have now sketdied them
out. Science is the penect work of the human intel-
lect, its highest achievement in the search after truth,
and the very touchstone of its capadty to grapple with
the appearances and rei^litiei of tbe world, and to form
such conceptions as can be relied on in practice. This
connection of the progress of science with all the col-
lateral branches of civilisation, and with the great
revolutions of the world, has been pointed out for the
first time in all its extent in the * Cours de Philosophie
Positire' of M. Auguste Comte,

iening im-
itofflUkl
out be in-
a % father,
le with the
B leligioui
nbemede
lience nuiiy
Bonititutcd
iority of it!
1 luiRce to
luibeieeu
itMMpringi
rought into
i Uu «t the
Hence the
intideration
obecUence.
ion between
Btnment— it
aded within
)Gal gOTern-
e family, of
r and pupil,
e pieTuhng
. no one tule

htion, meani
r to a higher,
impuliee and
when a go-
ration of the
he reawn, on
•being of th^
id. So, when
ittead of the
ig a people'*
baa entered a

le application
i human con-
immediately
d civiliiation
iatence. The
ediate j^ft of
f intelligence
mitted by iu-
Theori^al
the origm of
" tniequently
._jni ae there
tationi of the
mining arts,
' tntereourte,
seitttet, the
I are all in-
Eon.

j)reMnt pur-
Tof the diffe-
ption to the
len difierent
Iftt is at the
one of them,
, as ire pass
iall thereby
I there mapr
Jting part is
Ithe albstract
_^ed them
luman intel-
\ after truth,
apple with
nd to form
Jctice. This
I all the col-
the great
lout for the
Iphilofophie

NATURAL THEOLOGY-ETHICS.

Natubal Tbiologt is that branch of logical science
which comprehends the discoTery of the existence and
attributes of a Creator, bj^investigatins the eridenoee
of desi^ in the works of creation; and in an enlar{[ed
sense, it refers to the probable intentions of Deity
with regard to his creatures, their duty, and oonduot.
It cannot but appear to eveiy rational mind, that a
subject involving such important views and considera-
tions is full of the deepest mterest, and may be made the
agent of much intellectual improvement. It is incum-
Mnt on us to read the wisdom of God, and his admirable
contrivance, in all that we see around us and above us,
and which pertains to the universe to which we belone.
Independently of the pleasure, and perhaps worldly
advantage, which the study of Natural Theology may
produce, it will be equally serviceable in keeping alive
feelings of piety and devotion. As Lord Brougham has
very appropriately remarked, * even the inspired pen-
men hnje constant recourse to the views which are de-
rived from the contemplation of nature when they would
exalt the Drity by a description of his attributes, or
inculcate sentiments of devotion towards him. " How
excellent," says the Psalmist, " is thy name in all the
earth t thou hast set thy gloiy above the heavens. I
rdll consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers; the
moon and stars which thou hast ordained." '

It is worthy of remark, as showing the depth and
solidity of the foundation on which rMts the existence
of a supreme, intelligent, and beneficent First Cause,
that the farther we push our discoveries, the more
clearly are the Divine perfections exhibited. It is not
merely true that, on a superfidal view, we perceive the
necessity of believine that a limited and changing world,
such as that on which we dwell, could neither exist
without being produced, nor be the author of its own
existence ; and that there must therefore be, beyond
the range of our senses, an independent and uncreated
Essence, without be^uing, without bounds, incapable
of chiini^, intelligent, ever-active, all-pervading; but
it is also certun that those views are not only uncon-
tradicted, but fuUy established by the most minute sur-
vey of the objects within the sphere of our observation;
so that he vho penet|»tes the deepest into the secrets
of nature, only multiplies proofs of that most sublime
acd most animatine truUi, that ' verily there is a God'
'<vho made and rules the universe. It is difficult to
understand that strange moral obtuseness which has
induced a certiun class of writers to reject this ; for
grant but one assertion, which is — and it is not easily
to be questioned — that there exist in nature indisput-
' able traces of design, planned with wisdom, directed
by goodness, and upheld and accomplished by power,
and it follows that there also of necessity must have
been a tctie, a good, and a powerful Designer.

Let us suppose ourselves cast ashore upon some
island previouuy unknown to us; we immediately pro-
ceed to examine the appearances which present them-
selves, in order to discover if any traces exist of human
inhabitants, lo ascertain if such beings there existed,
it would nut be necessary that they should actually be
seen by us. In our wanderings we might come upoii a
hut txHiring all the marks of occupation; we might see
the roots of the trees which had been felled to form it,
and other tokens of the recent presence of man upon
the spot; and did we desire to discover soroethins of
their character and habits before we presented ourselves
to their notice, it is most probable that su<7'' ■•.kr^ ' data
would be also afibrded on which to found .. pinion.
Were the habitations we discovered merely « J . vAms,
or rude enclosures destitute of the conveniences <>;° -iTi-
lised life ; or were the furniture, the weapons, or the
instruments in and around them such aa barbaioua na-
No. 74.

tions generally use, we might leaaonably aigne that wa
had found the dwelling of an untamed savage. Bnt if>
instead of this, we find the surrounding land trenched,
enclosed, and cultivated; should we &d the oommon
articles of European husbandir, and the common uten-
sils of a European housdiold, we diould naturally
draw the inference that we had reached the abode of
an emigrant, who had thus reared around him the
attributes of civilised life. Much more a few addi-
tional observations mi^ht reveal to us, and enable na to
form conjectures, beanng the aspect of probability, con-
cerning the people among whom we had fallen. Now
it is in this way alone that we can aigue respecting the
Author of all things, and discover proofs and demon-
strations of a first supreme Cause. To prove that the
formation of all things was the result of nasico, it la
only necessary to show that they are in general, or in
so far as we can discover, admirably suitM to ib» uaea
and purposes to which they are to be applied — that
their arrannment is perfectly harmonious — and that it
is impossible that any chance could have thrown them
together in a way so nappy. To discover if this design
can be evidenced or demonstrated, it is necessary to
seek through the various works of creation with wliicili
we are surrounded; and the more minute we make our
inspection, the more likely shall we be to perceive the
deduction. If there be some departments to which our
senses have a readier access than to others, and which
we ran therefore more readily examine, firom these
especially we ought to deduce our result. It may be
that we shall find manv things which, from the defi-
ciency of our observing faculties, wo cannot understand,
nor discover the uses or consequent design which they
diaplay; but still if, in the course of our inspection,
we find every part admirably adapted for a specific
purpose, and teeming with the most convincin|; evi-
dences of design, then we may with safety, and in the
spirit of true philosophy, infer that in those objects
whi^h, from their nature and our imperfection, we can-
not so completely investigate, a greater degree of light
would tend to confirm the result to which our previoua
observations, among other things, had led us.

DKSION IN THE PLANBTART SYSTEM.

To the uninstructed eye, the earth which we inhabit
appears on a clear night to be surrounded by a nume-
rous host of radiant points, which, rising in the east,
move muestically through the sky until they reach tho
western horizon, when they set or. disappear; and so
completely does this idea commend itaeli to tiie mind
of an observer, that it requires a considerable efibrt to
conceive how it can be otherwise. But science haa
taught us that this is a mere illuuon, and the dis-
coveries of Copernicus and Sir Isaac Newton have es-
tablished the truth suggested by Pythagoras upwards
of 2000 years before the time of either of them, that
the apparent motion of the heavens is the consequence
of the real revolution of the earth every twenty-four
hours upon its axis; that, with relation to the earth,
the sun is stationary, while the earth every year com-
pletes a journey round him ; that the planets »re globM
similar to our own, revolviag at once upon their own
axes, and round the sun ; that the moon is a satellite or
attendant upon the earth, accompanying it in its course,
and at the same time describing every month a circular
orbit round it; and that to several of the other planets
are attached similar moons or satellites, bearing to
them a corresponding relationship.

By referring to our article Asisonokt, in which the
number of the planets, and Uieir distances from the sun,
with other narticulan, are noted, it will be seen that
the earth which we inhabit ia but a very amall point,

369.

OHAMBBBS'S INIOBKATION VOB THB PEOPLE.

•Ten in the lolar lytttm (m the conooune of pl«neta
round the lun hw been called), and th»t it forms but
a part of one magnificent and reiplendent Whole. Bttt
to ascertain the mark* of a deii^lug mind in thie
mighty maze of brilliant wonders, let ut turn our atten-
tion to tome of those particulars regarding them with
which we are acquainted; and it must be confessed
that, if we are to suppose them mere masses of matter
unclothed with aught bearing analonr to our regetable
pteduotions, and uninhabited by beings either sentient
or rational, it will be difficult to see why any of the
arrangements connected with these bodies, so far at
least as they themselres are concerned, and apart front
their attractive influence upon our own world, should
be either beneficial or the contrary. It is solely on the
conjecture that thfcre are organised beings on their sur-
face to be warmed, and nourished, and upheld, that we
can argue regarding such arrangements; and making
this conjecture, we shall find that there are some rery
remarkable apparent contrivances for ministering to
their comfort and happiness. It has been supposed that
a planet so far distant as Uranus, or even Jupiter or
Satum« must suflier from an extreme deficiency both of
light and heat; hence it has been ar^ed that they are
necessarilv unfit for the sustenance either of animal or
of Tegetable lifb. But when we consider that even
Uranus possesses '248 times the light afforded by our
full moon, it will not he difficult to beliere that, with
a somewhat more acute power of rision than we possess,
the inhabitants of that planet, if formed like ourselves,
may be quite able to engage in employments which re-
quire considerable minuteness of perception. Besides,
to compensate for the deficiency of light derived directly
from the sun to this planet in common with Jupiter
and Saturn, there is afforded the subsidiaiy benefit of
several moons or satellites to reflect light upon the sur-
face when the sun has withdrawn his beams; neither
is it probable that the inhabitants should miserably
perish from cold; for putting out of view the possibility
that they may be formed with constitutions adapted to
a mere frigid climate than that of any portion of our
world, we must remember that heat is not dependent
altogether upon the body from which it originates, but is
regulated in a very great measure by the nature of the
body to which it is transmitted. Keeping this in v!ew«
the planet Mercury may be as cool, and Uranus as
warm, as cur own globe, although they be at such diffe-
rent distances fVom the great source of heat. This, how-
'ever, can be jubject of conjecture alone; and it is
only vaiua' \owing that we have no reason to sus-

pect the get of the Creator in having placed some

of his worlao in situations which at first sight might
be supposed necessarily in^pable of affording even the
most eiiscntial accommodations to organic existences.

Of all the planets, Saturn presents us with the most
singular example of design in reference to this subject.
V/hen viewed through a telescope, this beautiful orb is
teen to be surround^ by a double circle of 30,000 miles
distant from any part of its surface. This apparatus
consists of two concentric rings, separated firam each
other by a space nearly 3000 miles in breadth, and
moving round the planet at the extraordinary rate of

^ a thousand miles a minute. Now there is one use of
this appendage, whatever may be its other purposes,
which is very apparent : it must contribute much to
enlighten and bMutify the globe to which it is attached;
and a very little reflection will show the eilbct it must
have in this respect. What a magnificent brilliant
spectacle must these rings present to the inhabitants of
Saturn I During its more than fourteen years of sum-
mer, the night must be enlivened by the bright reflec-
tion of this brilliant arch extending its luminous curve
from the eastern to the trestem horinon ; while even
during the da^, the suu must be materiallT aided by it
in shedding light upon the world to which it belongs.
< There is no planet in the solar system,' says a late

' writer, 'whose firmament will present such a variety
of splendid and magnificent object* as that of Saturn.
Tht rariooi amct* <tf his Mtw mooBii one riting »boT«
870

the horizon while another is setting; a third approach-
ing the meridian; one entering uito an eclipse, and
ahbther emetjging fivbl it ; one appearing as a orescent,
and iuiother with a gibbous phase; and sometimes the
whole of them shining together in one bright assembly:
the majestic motions of the rings, at one time illumi-
nating the sky with their splendour, and eclipsing the
stars ; at another, casting a deep shade over osSrtain

Sortions of the planet, and uuTeuing to riew the won-
ers of the stanr firmament— are scenes worthy of the
mi^esty of the Divine Being to unfold, and the rational
creature to contemplate.' Of the other planets it is
unnecessary individually to sneak; our knowledge of
them is extremely limited, and we may simply remark,
that in most of them the same causes exist which in
our globe produce the various seasons. To the causes
of the seasons, further than that they are the result of
the influences of the celestial bodies, we will not here
allude. To the arrangement of these, lAd to the fore-
thought and all-pervMing knowledge and goodness of
Him who designed them, are we, in a word, indebted
for the opening beauties of sprin^the fiill glow of
summer, arraved in flowers and clothed with Terdure —
the sober and sear leaves of autumn, with its aureate
fields and happy harvests— and the cold, but not deso-
late winter, wnich even in its frigidity serves a valuable
purpose In the scheme of the natursl world. In these
arrangements we see prooib of the care, the power, and
the beneficence of that great Being who was the cause
of all things. To what else, indeed, shall we trace the
primary fact, that of all the heavenly bodies connected
with our system, the sun alone, situated as he is in
the centre, possesses undivided light, while the planets
which surround him are all dark bodies receivbg their
light fh>m him I There is no reason, ita the nature of
things, why a body placed in the centre of a system .
should give forth light and heat, while those revolving
round it should be destitute of them. Yet we find it to
be so : and we perceive the consequence of this arrange-
ment to be not only most beneficial, but absolutely
indispensable to the existence of the organised beings
with whicii these orbs may be clothed or peopled.

But there is another view of th. svstem of worlds to
which our earth belongs, that strongly corroborates the
existence of a creating and presiding Being. We mean
the provision which is made for its perpetuity, notwith-
standing the existence of so many conflicting forces
— any one of which, if the system were difibrently ar-
ranged to what we find it to be, might in the course of
ages derange the relations which tne difib»nt bodies
composing it posseu towards each other, and precipitate
the whole into confiision, only equalled by that chaos
from which, by might and power, it was called. It will
hardly be necessary minutely to explain the causes by
which the earth and the other planets are kept in a
continual state of rotation round the sun ; but as per-
spicuity is one of the chief objects at which we aim, a
few words on this subject will not be out of place. Let
it be understood, then, that in every body of matter
there exists a certain tendency to rush towards every
other body, and that the larigeT, and denser, and nearer,
any two bodies arc, the greater is that tendency, and it
will easily be comprehended that the sun, the lai^t of
all the bodies in our system, should attract everv other
orb with a degree of force regulated by the sue, the
density, and the distance of each; so that, had all these
bodies at first been placed in a state of rest in the uni-
verse, they would immediately have bc«un to move
towards the sun, and thus in the course of time would,
one after the other, have reached and been amalga-
mated with him in the form of one vast and irregular
mass. But at the creation, this result was prevented
by communicating to the planets an impulse at right
angles to the diameter of their orbits, wnich, combin-
ing with the force of attraction — that is, the power of
the sun in drawing or attracting the planets towards
himself— caused the planets to revolve round the sun.
If tech of the planets, however, were to revolve round
the min, with no othet pterailing power to interfere

KATUBAL THEOLOQT.

with th^ motion! except theie two^nunelv, the
attraction of the ran, and the ori^al impulae at
creation, thcT would of coune continue at thej are
throughout all agee; but thii ia not the caie. In the
wordi of Mr Whewell, 'each of them ie acted on bj
all the reit. The earth ii conitantly drawn by Venui,
by Man, br Ju]>iter, bodies of rarious magnitudei, per-
petually changing their diitancei and poutioni with
respect to the earth. The earth, in return, is perpe*
tually drawins these bodies. What in the course of
time will be the reraltl The cause acts perpetuaU;jr,
and it has the whole extent of time to work m. Is it
not, then, easily conceirable that, in the lapse of ages,
the derangements of the planets may accumulate, their
orbits may change theb form, their mutual distances
may be much increased or much diminished t Is it not
possible that these changes may ^o on without limit,
and end in the complete subrersion and ruin of the
system!' What might hare been the case had the
balance of power, so to speak, in our system been
differently disposed, it is not easy to say; but that all
which is here suggested as possible would actually take
place were a capricious or ignorant hand to interfere
in the distribution of these forces, may assuredly be
affirmed. We should soon hare 'years of unequal
length, and seasons of capricious temperature; planets
and moons of portentous size and aspect, gluing and
disappearing at uncertain intervals ; tides like deluges
sweeping over whole continents; and perhaps the col-
lision of two planets, and the consequent destruc-
tion of all organisation in them both.' As the solar
STstem exists, however, so nicely is it adjusted, that
the deep inquiries of several of the philosophers of the
last and current century, founded on the most compli-
cated calculations, have shown that its arrangements
< are stable — that allthough there are, and may be per-
turbations, there are invariably proportionate compen-
sations; so that whenever a maximum has been reached
in the derangements of the system, it must necessarily
begin to revert to its ancient order, and the restoration
must in the end be as complete as was the derange-
ment. It would require a hardihood greater than we
can easily conceive to exist in the human mind, to view
this subject, and to deny, after all, that a perfectly
wise, beneficent, and powerful Being originally made,
and has since sustained and governed all things.

It is proper, before leaving the heavenly ladies, to
advert to the fixed stars. If little be known respecting
the planets, still less has been ascertained regarding
these more distant bodies; but it is by no means an
nnedifying employment to contemplate through them
the immensity of creation, and thus elevated, to draw
the conclusion that the Being by whom they originated
must indeed be infinitely glorious. Had there been no
other design on His part than thus to strike the mind
of man with a sense of His magnificence and grandeur,
no surer method 3ould have been adopted to impart the
lesson. The mind is bewildered when it dwells upon
the glories which astronomy develops ; and it cannot
find words loft^ enough to express its sense of the in-
telligence it discovers, or the proofs of the power, and
wisdom, and goodness it perceives.

BBUTIONS BETWEEN HAN AND EXTERNAL NATURE.

Leaving the evidences of design that are to be de-
duced from the contemplation of the heavens, let us
regsord some of the relations that exist between man
and external nature, and consider the wonderful adap-
tations to each other which they exhibit. There pan
be no blank in nature, and consequently no body is
isolated ; all more or less influence each other, and it
is of some of these relative influences that we aro about
to speak. Man is attached by the laws of gravitation
to the earth which he inhabits, and is surrounded by an
atmospheric medium capable of exercising certain in-
fluences upon him; these influences are modified to be
sttbsOTvient to his wants, and deiigiud to be adapted
not onl) to his neoesaitiw, but to those of eveir living
thing, whtthtr plwt or aaimal, that eziitf. The air

which surrounds ui exercises, in eonsaqnenee of ita
extent, a pressure on the human body equal to about
31,536 pounds. But why do we net sink and miserably
perish beneath this immense wei^tt It is by the re-
action of the elastic fluids contained within our bodiea
that we are enabled to support so enormous a pressure.
Here we tind a mutual relation between us and the
air, which cannot be interrupted without mutual injury.
Suppose this weight to be withdrawn from our bodies,
what would be the result) The expansibility of the
fluids oontiuned within us would have no restraint;
they would dilate, burst through the solids which con-
tain them, and destroy the individual. Place anv ani-
mal beneath the receiver of au air-pump, and withdraw
the air, the result is very apparent. We feel more or
less the effects of any sudden change of atmospheric
pressure, but still the density of the air is well adapted
to the wants of man : had it been greater, our energies
would have been oppressed, as by an unnatural load ;
and if less, insufficiently sustained, as by a defective
support. The senses of hearing and smelling, too, which
depend for their protection on a medium density of the
air, would have oeen either insupportably intense or
defective. Again, the atmospheric pressure materially
afilBcts temperature. If a certain quantity of air con-
tains a certain quantity of heat, it is clear that it must
be equally diffused throughout it ; and if the same air
be contuned in less bulk, or if the pressure be greater,
the heat is increased in the same ratio. In the same
manner, if the pressure be lessened, the air expands,
and with it the neat is difiiised over a greater surface.
By oompressinff air, we can produce a sufficient con-
centration of heat to cause ignition. This influence
of the air upon the bodv is as universal as the former,
and the adaptation of the one to the other as constant.
With the exception of some countriex near the equator,
and there only in the hot season and the middle of the
day, the temperature of the atmosphere is always below
that of man ; and as heat always tends towards an
equilibrium, it is obvious that a constant subtraction
of heat from the bodv must be going on. Now we are
so organised as to allow of this universal subtraction ;
and indeed, were it suddenly stopped, or even dimi-
nished, we should soon perish. Again, if the subtrac-
tion became increased, or went on more rapidly than the
vital principle could replace it, our temperature would
sink, our humours and fluids freeze; and in this case,
too, we should soon perish. But there are intermediate
points between these two extremes; and as we before
said, our organisation is such that it adapts itself to the
degree. All organic bodies are capable of resisting to
a great extent, and of modifying the action of, heat
and cold; indeed, this principle of self-preservation
is in them so striking as to have been regarded from
a very early period as the most essential attribute of
life. The power possessed by the higher classes of
animals, of preserving a more or less uniform degree
of heat, is almost unlimited. In veiy cold climates the
thermometer not unfrequently sinks to 50° or 55° below
the freezing-point; while in very hot ones it is some-
times 120° or 125° above it, making a diffisrence of 170°
or 180°; still, however, the temperature of the body
remains unchanged. What unanswerable evidence of
design is this, and how limitless must be that Power
who could create such wonderful adaptations I

If the atmospheric pressure produces in some mea-
sure the regulation of heat and cold, in no less degree
does it aflect moisture and its concomitants— clouds,
mist, rain, snow, and hail; and thus we are dependent
for many of our comforts, and for most of our necessi-
ties, upon the due adjustment of atmospheric influences.
Winds, too, arise from any unwonted atmospheric pres-
sure disturbing the equilibrium of the atmosphere, and
are the efibrts of nature to restore the balance. All
the changes of weather, the most violent storms and
tempests, are owing to the same cause.

Connected with this subject, as evidencing design,
is the composition of the air, which is precisely that l^st
adapted to lupport lespiration. It consists, besides

871

OBAMHBBM inOBitMVlOir PdB THB PIOPLE.

WBuJl pnportioMof aqaflouTi^ioinuid eubon, of two
fluid* or gMweulM oxygon udnitrogHi. InftMpa-
mto itato (iMM (MM Mw inimieal to lift. Uroider
piOTad tv oiporimont tlutt puro air, or oxTgen gM, if
imind for m ooitain tlmo, rareflM the blood too mudit
MM JBcrtMat tko rapidity of tlte cinmlation, the eflbcti
of which HO riolent ferer, inHunmation of the Inngi,
and death. Nitrogen ii equally deetmctiTO to life, ••
not Yielding that principle on which the purification of
the blood depend!. It ia their combination that redden
them aalutuyto the oonititution; neither coniuming
lift bj too much itimulue and excitement, nor deaden*
lag ite enerciea by a languid drculation and deprenion
of epirita. Why ihould the i^r hare been oompoeed
exactly of twenty>one parte of oxygen and ierenty-nine
of nitrogen t Why were all other proportiona excluded I
It oould not hare hem owing to a blind and fortuitoua
chance. The fact that we find two deadly ingredient!
10 uAitod a! to become not onlv harmlen, but !alu-
taiy, muit !trike ereiy mind wtth an unaniwerable
•ridence ef dedgn. Atmo!pherio air ia abaolutely ne-
oeaeaiy both to animal and Tegetable life, and both
daiawi of being! are fully adapted for it! reception.
The boldeet foiooiean could Miarcely imagine that eo
necoMary a ralMtaoee ha* by mere chance lurrounded
thia globe for the rapport of it! inhabitant!, upon whom,
without it, God would haTO beitowed hia power, and
wladom, and goodnee! in run; nay, eren had men, ac-
oording to the doetrino of Epieorui, !prung up like
mu!hraom! from the earth without an atmoaphere,
they oould not hare exiated upon it. Haa not, then,
the hand of a wiee Creator been here riaibiy employed,
or whr were we euppUed with initmmenti that render
the air arailable to uat — enabling ua to reaiat ita
dreadful preaaure, and to aTail ouraelrea of it! unut-
terable adrantagea. If we contemplate for a moment
the erila which would hare followed had not Dirine
intelliaenoe preeided at the oonititution of our globe,
and luiued an atmoaphere around it, how fearful and
dreary it would hare been ! The moon haa no atmo-
aphere, and hence ita climate muat be rery extraordi-
nary ; either the fieroeet lunahine muat leign, or the
keeneat froat! endure. If our earth had been aimilarly
ntuated, no ortanio being would haye adorned ita aur-
face; neither plant nor animal oould hare exiated; no
reflection of light could hare taken place; no dawn or
twilight would hare prepared U! for morning or for
night; a dome blacker than darkneai would hare anr-
rounded the earth, and light only hare become mani-
ft!t when the eye receirra it directly firom the lun.
The blue eky whidi now !unound! ua, and which ia
owing to the thin wateiy n^ura floating in the atmo-
aphere, and reflecting necnliar raya of light, the blue and
tne riolet, would not hare been there. And where can
we find nieh eridenoo! of deaign aa the blue colour
which the iky exhibit! t Of all huea we oould imagine,
ia there any to nirpaaa that mild and aoft ethereal tint,
harmoniaing with all around U!, and on which the eye,
firtigued with more brilliant and dauling object!, turn!
for relief and repoeel The unbelierer may eay that
thia colour waa the reralt of chance; but luppoee anr
other, a biuht yellow, a daasUng wlute, a glaring red,
a fearful courar, how uncomfortable and pamftil would
it hare been for the riiion of man ! Again, an atmo-
aphere ia noa»!!ary to hearing; it enlai^e! the field of
Tidon, and oontrilnite! alao to the mean! of emell ; and
not only do the being! cm earth enjoy life through it!
m!an!,Dttt it contribute! to the mutenance of the finny
tribee, enabling them not only to exiat, but to reat in
the water, or aaoend and deeoend in it in queit of food.
There are etill other relatione exiating between man
•nd external natun, to which we would ihortly allude,
aa Uluatratire of deaign; and the^ are auch, that with-
out them certain important fluwtuma oould not be per-
formed, and oonaequently man could not exiat. Tneee
relation!, which may be termed orgamie, are the more
uumerou! and neceaaaiy to lift, aa the otganieaticn of
the indiridual ia the more derdoped or complete; and
while they may be all included in th« two Auictioni of
373

nutrition and leniatlon, they are the moN mnlttplied
aa the operation! of the former an more complex, and
the extendon of the latter greater; and henoe they an
mon numerou! in man thm in any other animal. Aa
in the phrdeal nlatione, to !ome of whidi we hare
already alluded, !0 in the organic we muet aaian the
flr!t rank to the atmoephen, ao nireaaaiy to Im, and
!o admirably adapted to raetain it. It ia the medium,
alao, throttcb which we reedve'heat, light, and electri-
city, of wmch we appear to be ai much in need aa of
that prindple of air which purifiea our blood, and fit!
it for the performance of ita aereral operationa. Theae
matter! are inherent in all liring bodiei; and if dmple
elementaiy bodiea do exiit, theee are they. Many phy-
dologiati reoogniee the greateet analogy between the
nerrou! fluid and electricity, and then ia great reaaon
for belierina that it aaaiata oondderablv in the main-
tenance of tne rital phenomena. We know, howerer,
that all theae agenta exerciae a great influence upon
life, from the demand that living; bodiea make upon
them. Obaerre how plant! languuh and become weak
when deprired of light, and how aolidtoudy they move
in the direction that will the meet expose them to ita
inrigorating influence. Nor ia it leaa neceaaary to ani-
mal exiatence. But let ua auppow that thia element
waa onlv given for the pnrpoae of enlightening the
earth, what a wonderful relation, then, doea it bear to
the eye which perceive! it ! No one who conndere the
eye ettentively can reaiit the impreadon of the eridehce
of deaign and akill which ita oonatruction exhibits. At
the aame time, it muat be obvioua that thU oonitruction
of the eye would not anawer ita purpoaO! unlei! the
ccmetitution of light correiponded to it.' Light ie an
element of the moat peculiar kind and ptopertiea, and
rach an element can nardly be conceived to hare been
placed in the univerw without aome regard to ita ope-
ration! and fimctiona. Aa the eye ie made for lignt,
!o light mu!t have been made, at leaet among ouer
end!, for the eve. Whai we have eaid of light i! equally
applicable to heat. It ii obviou! that the vital ener^
of plant! ia much diminiahed, eren auapended, during
winter, while with the nturn of aummer they again
ahoot forth their learea and flowera; the aame alterna-
tion obtaina alao among hybematiug animals. Heat ia
eridently the cause of theae ehansee; !0 much !0, in-
deed, that regetabiea mar be forced by artifidal modea
to inrert the order of the seaaona. The climatea in
fact demonetrate the influence of heat.

Electridty undoubtedly exiat! in the atmoiphen in
all it! itatea; but we know rery imperfectly the lawa
of thia rabtle agent, and an atul mon ignorant of ita
atmoa^erio operation. The preaent atate of adence,
while it pemuta ua to haaard an opinion, doea not
enable u! to peioeire thon adaptation! of it! law! to
it! u!e!, which we can diacover in thow caaea when
the lawa and the ueee an both of them mon appa-
rent. ' It ia at anyrate renr probable,' aaya PnftHor
Whewell, ' that electricity haa ita important purpoaea
in the economy of the atmoaphen. And thie being ao,
we may aee a uie in the thundcntorm and the atnke
of the lishtning. Theee riolent erents are, with r^ard
to the electricity of the atmoephen, what winds an
with nffard to heat and moiatun. They reaton the
equilibrium when it haa been diiturbed, and carry the
fluid fmm place! when it ie luperfluoue, to othen
when it ie deficient. We an !0 ooutituted, however,
that theee crieee imprei! every one with a fading of
awe. The deep lowering of the gloom of the thunder-
cloud, the overwhelming buret of the explodon, the
flaeh from which the tteadieit eye ehrinki, and the
irredatible amw of the lightnina, which no euthlv
!ub!tauce can withatand, !peak of lomethinc fearful,
enn independently of the pweonal danger which they
may whiaper. Ther convey, far mon uan any other
appearance doea, the idea of a raperior and mif^ty
Power, nianifMting diqtkaaute, and threatening puniah-
ment. Yet we find that thia ia not the language which
ther apeak to the phydeal inquinr; he leee tlnae for-
mi«w>l« qrmpton! only aa the meana or the eoneequencei

KATCRAL VmOLMT.

apl«x, snd
w they art
linuJ. Ai
It w« hftT«
•Mign the

Ufe, stta
la in«dlum«
ukd •leetrl-

1 BMd M of
)d, and flit
tna. ThcM
id if liniple
iimj pny-
wtWMn the
prMtiesMii
I the main-
w, howerer,
luenee npon
make upon
iMome weak
,j they move
I them to its
Mary to ani-
bhii element
(htening the
«s it bear to
»n«iden the
the eridetice
exhibits. At
I oonitruction
M unless the

Light is an
topwtiei, and
to hare been
lid to its ope-
tde for lignt,
among ouier
ight is equally
e rital ener^
ided, during
jr they again
[same altenta-
ikls. Heat is
mudi so, in-
tificial modes
le climates in

of good. Wkal oftoe the thnnderbolt and the wUri-
wind ma« have in the mont world, we cannot her* dia>
cusi{ but oertidnlv ha must meoulate aa far beyond the
limits of phUoaopny as of piety, who pretends to have
leaned that these work more of evil tuui of good. In
the NoimW world, these apparently deetruettre agents
M«, like all other moTemeuts and appearances of the
atmosphere, parts of m great scheme, of which ererr
discoveimble puipos* is marked with beneficence •• well
as with wisdom.'

and Tsgetable. Inahort, whattvwwMilkeilatoof tit*
surfhce at any giren period of the imolntiona progiea*
drely fitting it for the ultimate f^ddcnoe of man, we
find organiacd b^ga to have apioag up upon it, with
such habits and pecuUaritiea of atmctura aa enabled
them to eziat and mioj eziatenoe under the peculiar
dicumstancea in which they were placed.

DRaiON IN TBI aiBDCtUBE OF TBI BAIiTH.

It ia CTident, even on a Tory caaual inspection, that
the surfiwe or crust of the globe we inhabit has under-
gone many changes, and these both great in extent and
of long duration. Two agents, fire and water, have
beui mainly instrumental in their poduotion. The
ocean, the ^reat source of aqueous influence, seem%
firom time immemorial, to hare been engaged in a
struggle to degrade or level the surface of the earth,
not only by the direct action of its tides and currents
upon coiuta, but alao by meana of the douda of vapour
whidi it aenda up into the atmosphere, and which re-
descend on the earth in the shi^ of rain and anew,
giving riae to numberless springs and rirera, all of
which have some effect, less or more, in washing down
the dry land. This system of detrition, carried on from
age to age, would have produced a state of thmgs very
difierent from that whidi now exists, had it not been
f(Hr the antagonising agen^ of fire, which, working
from the centre outwards, either by extensive conrul-
sions or by slow upheavements, has elevated and re-
paired the earth's sur&ce as fast aa the watera have
abraded it, and hm compelled the ocean to give back
to the light, in the form of continenta and iaianda, the
materiala which it had before swallowed up.

In this reciprocal action and counteraction, and in
their ^ecta upon tiie earth'a aurface, we find abundant
proobof benevolent design. By these means have been
produced those extensive irregularities — ^Uiat diveraity
of hill and vale, ridge and plam— on which dependa the
fitness of the earth for the maintenance of all organic
life, whether animal or vegetable. If the surface were
level and smooth, the Tapours raised from the sea by
the sun would find no oluuinel for their return, and the
globe would necessarily become a stagnant marsh, un-
suited for the reeidence of man, and the ^ater part of
the creatures that now tenant it along with him. But
even if man could have inhabited the earth without its
existing irregnlaritiea, how few comi>uatively would
have Men the advantagea of hia poaition 1 Had the
mattera carried down and depoaited in the earlv aeas,
in the form of ohalk-beda, limeatone-beda, and ooal-beda,
with all the treaaures of minerala and metala accom-
panying them, remuned where they were firat accumu-
lated, man would have lost all the most essential ele-
ments of industry and civilisation. The changes and
disruptions whidi have taken place in the crust, have
brought to light a fund of riches, without which he would
have been poor in comforts and in arts. Lookins to
those vast coal-fielda alone which the crust of our globe
contains, can we imagine for a moment that the great
chanoes by which these ruined forests of the primeval
world were first spread out and moulded into new
forms, and then upheaved to the reach of man, to supply
him with endless stores of heat, light, and wealth, were

C'uoed by blind chance, or by aught but a creative
gner, a being equally great and ^ood t
On examininc Airther into the condition of the earth's
crust, as established by the changes it has undergone,
we &id numerous other proofs of the wise foresight
which has ordered and arranged the whole. We dia-
cover that all the snccessire mutations of our planet,
extensiTe as they have evidently been, were rendered
compatible with the existence and eiyoyment of count-
less numbers of oiganised and sentient bein^. All the
rocky strata of the crust, with the exception of those
which appear to be the oldest and deepest seat ed, are
mixed up abondimtly with oigaaic i«maiu% both animal

DBION M ANIIIAI. PBTSIOLOOT.

The earth, whose structure we have Jnai biieiy
noticed, aervea aa the place of habitation for two kinda
of exiatenoea— the animal and vegetable — in whoae' for-
mation and fiinctions we discover the beantifU diapen-
aationa of Providence, extending on every aide over a
vaat range of beluga, and demonatrating the unity of
plan on which orcaniaed creation haa mmi deviaad.
And firat, the whole circle of our knowledge doea not
affv>rd greater evidence of deaign than compwrative ana-
tomy : in it we find innumerable contrivanoaa for the
comfort and h^>pineas of the different tribes of beinga
adapted to the neouliarities of their condition; in earn
animal we aee tne aame organ repeated, but modified to
render it more avmlable to the habits of ila posseaaw;
and amons all the wondera of creation, there are none
which atrike the inquiring mind more forcibly than thia
change or modification of formation for the obviona
purpoae of accommodation to circumstances. Were all
animals formed alike, or did the differences whidi
exist between them bear no relation to their habits or
deatiniea, it would be lesa easy to refute the doctrine
which assies all thinga to material causes, and excludea
the designmff hand of an intelligent Creator. Although
even then the argument would be totally untenabM,
still, the demonstration which disproves it would have
been lesa aatisfactoiy and perfect, as the surprisbg
skill and beneficent care by wnich the structure of every
animal is adapted to its individual habits and neoea-
sities could not have been so well displayed. A single
tool in the hands of the carpenter is a proof of <t>u-
trivance; but that proof is much multiplied, and ren-
dered more forcible, when we find the same instrument
modified into a thousand forms to suit the different
operations of the workman. 'Few of the functions of
animated beings better illustrate this than that of alL-
mentation, which we shall now endeavour briefly to
trace, through the humble zoophytes and worms up to
birda and mammiferoua animals.

Structure of ZoopbytM, lio.
Nutrition is common to all animals without excep-
tion; and the numerous and varied modifications of
the means employed to effect it, are obvious prooft of
the design and intelligence of the Creator. There are
some animals so nearly allied to plants as to be scarcely
distinguish fcble from them; and in these, as in plants,
nutritive matter is introduced by mere imbiDition.
Fixed like plants to the spot where tiiey grow, any other
onans would have been superfluous; while to those
which are not so attached, but seek their food and ob-
tain it through their locomotive powers, organs for
seizing and preparing it are necessary. In them, there-
fore, we find lips variously and curiously modified;
glands about the mouth for furnishing fluids for lubri-
cating dry alimentary matters; a tongue, or somethinc
analogous to it; teeth and jaws for bieakinff down hard
substances, and rendering uiem fit for swallowing; with
a passage called the oesophagus, or gullet, leading from
the mouth to the stomach, in which the food ia at laat
aasimilated, and rendered fit for nourishing the animal.
But it is not until we advance some way in the great
chain of animal life that these parts become auffidently
obvious, or their offices clearly defined. In the very
lowest orders, the mouth and stomach are one conti-
nuous tube, or all stomach, aa it may be called, and ao
simple in construction, that .the animal may be turned
inside out without detriment to it; that whidi. waa
external being now internal, and performing, appa-
rently with equal facility, all the raBcea of whi^ waa
previoualy the stomach. Aa we advance, however, we

37S

oHAMnnm mmmumoa vwtaa raonj.

fad th« amtiitiT* «fH« c wii f *
•MMMtu, or • mtpii ri * for InUb
wkalki wkioh Mt Auniahwl with pr

tobaftBM

ib«l<aidfc laUoM

probotddM* wt find •

OkTitTOOMpM by tk« MMtUIt of th« fltMpluupUL ft

toncu*. ud tMtki whila Um naU potwi M i » ptrfeotly-
foiniad mratk and Um. Among tho wonni, whoM
■tomaolM •!• gwianlljr mombruiou bag*i w* find
unmplM of wonderful contrirMico and design. Thui
the powerful etomacih of one apeoiee contiini three
hnid c«Imi«oiu eholli, bjr whioh the indiTidiul ia
iMkUed to braiae nnd nuatiimte the ahalled nnimaJa
an whioh it feada. The diaoorariae of Ehranbarg
laanaeting ih» aninutloula inhabiting different reget-
aJue inraaona, hare extended in on extraordinary de-
gree our knowledge of the atu^dooa power of Ood;
and the 'limit**''* piop^* "^ deei^ diaplajad in beinga
to whom, in relatire aiae, the nute ia aa an elephant,
aflford aatoniahing diaplaya of a minute and moat
baaefioent attention to the praaerration of theae curioua
otaatttree, in whoee oiganiaatioi and inatincta new and
admirable indicationa of ereative wiadom are rerealed.
By the aid of the mioroaoope, we are enabled to per-
oeivo the Creator of the unireiae minutely buiy among
the worlda of living oreatuiea to whioh he haa given
birth on a blade of graaa, or in a drop of water, and to
diaooTor freah acenea of wonder, and intereat, and evi-
dent deaign among hoata of animated beinga, infinite in
■umber aa th^ are in minuteneaa.

Aa w* aaoend higher in the aoale of exiatanoe, we
find the digeatire appaiatua oeaaing to be aimple oa-
vitiaa, or caaala hollowed out of the aubatanoa of the
body, and beeoming diatinct oicana formed by mem-
bianee and eoata proper to each ; and among theae,
the firat example ocoun in the aea anemone, in which
we find apacee interrening between the ooata of Um
atomach and the akin of the animal : here, however,
the ctomach ia atill a bLtid pouch, one aperture aerr-
iag alike for reeeiTing and ejecting the alimeataiy
mattera. In the tehad, or aea-urchina, theae organa are
atill more perfiMt. Thoae of maatioation an pwuliarly
developed; an oaaophagaa, or gullet, alao preeento itaelf,
and a atomach continued into a ragular inteatine, which
takea two toraa in the body before it taiminatoa.

fitrogtore of latMtai
la the dimtive oigana of inaeeta we meet with a
multitude of new and p— "liy formation a, whila moat
of the aimple forma found in the lower animali are here
repeated. The ergane of maatieation, deglutition, and
anotiou, praaent aueh remarkable difierencee, that the
■rrangemaata of modem ayatema of entomology have
been chiefly founded on them. In thia order of animala,
nutrition by vegetable anbataaoee la much more common
than in thoae Mow it; indeed, aa Blumenboeh haa ob-
aerved, the buaineaa of nutrition in inaeeta doea not aeem
to have for ita object the mere preeervation of the in-
dividual, aa in mort red-blooded auimala, but chiefly the
eonaumptioa of oiganiaed matter, which will appear
limn conaidaring the atnicture of their ^imentaiy canal.
In moot of thoae which are aubject to a metamoqthoaia,
the atomorh in the larva atate iaof a mat aiae in oom-
pariaon with the Ami inteatinal canal ; while thoae, on
the contnuy, which taka little or no nouriohment in
th^ peifoct atate, have thia organ ramarki4>ly dimi-
niahed, and, aa it were, oontra^ed. How beautiMly
doea the grni aiae and straight courae of the inteetinal
appar a tua 9i Uie animal, when in ita caterpillar atate,
ooinoide with ita eaermona voracity and quidi digee-
tionl It haa bem computed that eateipillara aeose-
timea devour and digaet no leaa than three timea their
own weight of aliment in four-aad-twenty houra. On
the otlier hand, during the aubaequent metamorjAoaia
iiAieh the animal undeigoea, no food ia taken; but
nature, or rather the Ood of nature, haa wonderfully,
and with benefioant deaign, provided againat anynecee-
aity for thia, by cauaing inaeeta to bewme veiy lot, aa
obaarved by Jlolpighi, on the approach of theee ohangea;
00 tho* tiua fot, being abeorbed into the blood while
theae an going an, lervoa all the poipoaea of a Mi^iy

94 w

cf alimMtaiy naMan ftoa wilkMii TIciaMtiaaMr
oBdar oeoaidaiatiaB oxhiUt a* diflMut parioda of their
axiatenoa the great sa t oontiaata, not only in external
form, but alao in their habita, iaatiaoto, and modee of
anbaiatanoe. Tha larva, aa we hava aaan, b rsmarkab

. _fsmarkablo

for ita voradty, requiring larn ouppUaa of fi>od, and
conaoming anoimoua quantitiea of vegetable matter t
the perfect inaact or butterfly, having attained ita Am
dimanaion% ia aufloiantly aupported by email quantitiea
of a more nutritioua food, oonaiating either of animal
juicea or of tha fluida prepared by llowera, whioh are
generally of a aaooharina qualitv^ and contain nouriah-
ment in a hi^y-ooneantmted form. It ia evident that
tha aama appaiatoa whidi ia neoeaaaiy for the rilgeetien
of the bulky food taken in during tha former period,
would not be anitad for tha aaaimilation of that whieh
ia leceivad doting ^ latter; and that in order to ae-
oommodato it to thia altered condition of ita flinotion,
conaidarable changea must be made in ita atmotura.
Who can believe that theae changea are made without
wiadom, or petauada thainaalvaa that all thia ia to be
brott^t about by caoaaa diveatad of knowle^ and
underatanding I Dr Roget, in hia admirable Bridge-
water Traatia^ haa beautiltally illuatratod the aubJMt,
by vaiy clear and oamet drawinga by Mr Newport, of
the three difierent atatea of the entire alimentary canal
of the privet hawkmoth (Bpkimx ligmHri)t fitet when
a caterpillar; then aa a chiyaalia; and laatW aa the
moth I and of thaea, takinc our text firom Beget, or
rather from Herold, we shiul endeavour to give aome
account. We have aaen that in the caterpillar tha
stomach forma by for the moot eontideiable portion of
the alimentaiy canal, bearing aome raaemblance in ita
stiuotun and c^Mtcity to the atomaaha of certain
worma. Thia ia followed by a lane, but ahott and per-
fectly straight inteatine. In the chnraalia, theae ormna
have undergone considerable modiaoationa; the whole
canal, but mora eepedally the atomach, b^ing con-
tracted both in length and width : the ahoitening of
the inteetine not being proportionate to that of the
whole body, obligee it to be folded upon itself for a
certain length. In the moth, the contraction of the
etomaoh hae proceeded much forther, and aa additional
cavity, which may be oonaidared aa a kind of craw, ia
developed; the aaaall inteatine takea a great many
tunu durinr ita course, and a larn pouch haa been
formed at the part when it joina ue large inteatine.
* When we conaider,* aay Kfarby and Spenee, apeafcing
of the phenomena ^MA we have detailed, ' the adap-
tation of all then changea of finm, the loaa of old
organa and the aequiritioa of now onaa, to the functiona
aira mode of lifo of the animal, wu aee evidently the
all-powerful hand ot that Almif^tjr Being who eieeted
the nnivene, upholding by hia previdenn, and the law
that he hn given to eveiy creature, the ayatem that he
at fiiot brought into exiatenoe.'

In inaeeta, all parte concerned in digeation on in
general amoUer and koa complicated in the camivorona
than in the herbivoroua trwaa, apparently ftom the
mattera on which the former nbaiat being already
animaliaed, and requiring; thenf<»« leaa preparation
before they are received mto the blood; and it ia no
alight indication of design to obaerve ia them how
admirably parte are .adapted to the animal necessities.
Thua aooipiona, apiders, millepedea, and othen which
live for the moat part on hard animal nbataaece, an
Auniahed wiUi jawa of a firm kenj textun, in many
cases very laige, when compand with the aiae of the
animal ; dngou-fliea and bwtlea, particularly the atag-
beetle, an exanmlea in which the jawa on very lat:^
and maaifoat, often poaseaaing tooth-like edna; and
theae, too, feed on amUlar inaecte than themaelvea. In
another deaeription, of whioh tiie bn, waap, aad ant
an examples, we find the animal deaartin* tlie coarser
kinds of food, living chiefly on jnicee; and la them alao
we again find the aame mode of taking in nourishment
aa in the loweat stogn of tiie animal kmgdom— namely,
by meana of organa of au^ion, which here, however, an
oomUned with oigaat for mnBcation. Than oigano

VAyUBAt VraOLOOTt

^ HMtlMi Mf Mill mm iinloM in ioMtta, nidi m
IMiNk kfut'ilii, *«.i in ttMm Uwv eoMiat of » tabt.
of wkWl w« iU«f wrt iteDiig rad fltihjr, wd moT»ble
In flTwy diiMlion, like th* trunk of an oUphMtt, wd
kftvinc M iu •itromUjr » doubU fold, NMmbUog lipi,
wbiek an W«U *d»iit«d foi luotion. Tha gnat, and
oikar iniaata wbiek pitroa tkt lUn of aoiotala, bava for
tbia porpoaa initmmanta tonnad ktuiti. from tbair
•kapa and oIBm. In tkt gnat tbay aro flro or aU in
namber, finer tban a bair, azoeedingW ebarp, and gene-
rally barbed on one tidet wbila in ih» bouie-fly tkey
are flat, like tbe blade of a knife. In tbe butterfliee,
bowarer, wbick are alnuwt wholly independent of aolid
nutiitiTe matter, thaie organ! preiant themeelTea in
tbe grea t aet perfectioni and witbout any addition of
teatb. Tbe proboaeia of tbia order of inieota ia a double
tube, eoDitructed by tbe two edgea being rolled long!-
tadinally till tbey meet in tbe middle oTtbe lower aur-
Aaei tkua forming a tube on eaob eide, but leaying alao
another tube, intermediate to tbe two lateral onei.
Tbia middle tube i« formed by tbe Junction of two
groorea, whiobi by tbe aid of a curioui apparatua of
looka, look into ea«k otkar, and oao be eitn#r united
into an air-tigbt eanal, or be inatantly Mparatod at tbe
plaanira of tna animal. It would be quite inoompa-
tibbi with tbe nature of tbia eiaay to enter at greater
lengtk into tbe erldeneea of design deduoible from tke
digeetiTo anparatui of inieote: no one can be blind
enough to oniy that it OTinoea an origin of tbinga quite
inaompatibla with mere brute and uncertain ohianoe,

lUruotwe «l FiibM Mi4 BepUlMk
Still aaoending in tke aaala of creation, wa eoma to
tbe contemplation of fiibei. We aak, waa it by mare
chanee that tbe raepiratory apparatui of fiibea waa lo
formed that their blood receivei itc Ti?ifying principle
from the air whioh ii held in eolution by the water in
which they more I And who cannot, in thie ona initanoe,
but diioem the hand of a ruling ProTidenoe, adapting
tbe itructure of anlmali to the habite which are to oha-
ncteriae themt Waa it by chance that in the plaice,
the sole, the turbot, and other flat fishes, the eyes are
placed both on one ride of the body, an isolated instance
of a want of uniformity in the two sidee 1 No : the
design is obrious; for as these animals are destined to
oontmue always with one side in the mud at the bottom
of the water, an eye on this side would have been su-
perfluous and inoonrenient to them. The same design
and evident adaptation of structure to drcumstanoes is
ar' *^nt in the iurinam sprat. This singular animal
g ■ n^Jy swims so near the surface, that its eye is
patil) in and pwrtly out of the water; and all its parts
eorresL ond with this strange peculiaritr, the pupil beins
partially diTided into an upper and a lower portion, and
the lens consisting of two globes, an upper and a lower
one attached together. It appears that the superior
part of the mre is, like that of terrestrial animals,
adapted to refract rays transmitted by air, and the in-
^rior part, like tkat of aquatic animals, those trans-
mitted by water, and that the refracting power of the
ae? eral parts of the eye is acc(«dingly much less above
than below. With regard to the function of hearing,
wo find in fishee the Creator still proceeding on one
vast plan or unity of design; with the eioeption of one
speeies, all the parts of the ear are buried within the
skull, and send no process to the surface; and this is
preeiselv what we snould have looked for in beings
deetinan to hear through the medium of water, the
librationa of which being so much more powerful than
those of air, would render the complicated apparatus
requisite in terrestrial animals in them superfluous. In
the dasa of fishee, we see the lowest condition of the
alimentary oanal as it is found in vertebral uuimals.
Fishes, voracious to a proverb, subsist almost entirely
on animal food. The ocean teems chiefly with animal
life. It is a dense, and rich, and moving, and tempes-
tuous element, where vegetation is oompMatively small,
•ontrastad with its development in the lisht and un-
f aa i a tt ng tlwuent of th* atmovhen. This rich «od

leeiatinf alam«il of watat •boonds ia araiy latitn4«
and in avaiy drop, with all forma of animated beings.
Thua fishes have the means of eaaily aatiafy ing their
voradoua appetitee with a aeleetioii of all kinds of food.
Their teeth, more instruments of prehension than maa-
tication, are sharp, recurved, daase, and pointed cones,
adapted to grasp and retain eveiy living thing that
moves in the watws, and placed in all parts of tha
mouth of these all-devouring animals; their asophagns,
or gullet, is very wide and short, and diroottv opening
into their capacious stomach. Thus the food of fishee
not being masticated in the mouth, does not dwell
Uiere; and as they are surrounded with an abundano*
of moisture, they require no salivary glands for lubri-
cating the food, and they have none. Like larva, their
stomachs are very large; and like them also they ara
chiefly intent upon the gratification of their apnetitas.
Tbe intestine of fishes vuies consideralily in lengtbf
according to the kind of food ; but, generi^ly speak-
ing, it is not longer than their bodies; whereas in most
reptiles— whioh compose the next cUss of animals in
the ascending scale — it is considerably longer; a provi-
sion unnecessary in fishes, perhaps from the matters on
whieh they for the most part feed being almost always
of the same nature aa their own bodies, and therefort
requiring comparatively little preparation.

Ralinquidung our plan of illustrating design by an
aosount of the digestive apparatua, let ua conaider, in
reptilea, the organa aubaervient to the function of respi-
ration, which, though somewhat similar to the organa
desijnied for that purpose in birds and mammiferoua
quadrupeds, difier from those in some remarkable
particulars. In reptiles, indeed, as in birds and mam-
malia, there is a kind of lungs; but they are mem-
branous, and not fleshy— that is to say, the cells whioh
they contain are so much larger aa to give them a
membranous, and not a fleshy appearance — ^nay« in
many reptilea the lunga consist of one membranoua
bag, very similar to the ur-bladder of fishes. These
lungs or bags are situated in the abdomen, and are
loose and floating among the entrails; and they re-
ceive their supply of air, in general, not as in birds
and mammiferoua animala, in consequence of the for-
mation of a vacuum around them, but by a proceaa
venr aimilar to that of awallowinz. Hence reptilea,
unlike the higher daaaea of animala, can still continue
to breathe if their bodies are cut open, because they do
not require a vacuum round the lungs. The air thus
received is subservient to the purification of the blood
in the usual manner; but it is not so immediately viti-
ated as air received into fleshy lungs, owing to the larger
size of the cells, which do not immediately allow the
whole of it to come into contact with their sides. This
is one reason why reptiles can sustain an impediment
to their respiration for a much longer time than birda
and mammals; but another and a much better reason
is to be found in the distribution of their blood-vessels;
those going to the lungs not forming a necessary part
of the general circulating aystem, but constituting, as
it were, only an appendage to it, whioh may for a time
cease to transmit blood without inoonvenience.

Btmotue of Birds.
We come now to birds; and whether we consider
their external form or anatomical structure, or in
whatever light it is possible to view them, the same
conclusion presents itself to the mind. Inexhaustible
contrivance, vast and comprehensive intelliffonce, are
everywhere conspicuous. Behold iu their pomted bill,
and graduallv enlarging head and neck, a means of
penetrating the yieldinff air; then the prow-like breast,
the flexible rudder tail, the equipoised win^s, and fea-
thers at once adapted for lightnees, for strength, and
for tenacity, and all bearing relations, not only to each
other, but to the air in which the animal is to fly i the
wise contrivance of these could not be the result of
chance. The investing membranes of their lungs, pro-
longed from various parts of their surface in the form
of tubes, and expanding into ^ga, enveloping almoat

375

oHAioiBra mfOiuiAnoir )k» tai piopu.

M khe eBtnili, n m to ktsp th«m eomtantljr niw
roundtd with air, uid dmilw proIonK^tioni •xt«idlii|
alto into the nvitjr of tlioir bonoi, Miring to inllat*
thoN in tho Muno mMiner— are not tluw peouliaritiM
fcr the obvfoui pnrpoM of girinf liglitnoM to the ani'
mal, and that enabling it to luppoit itielf in the air I—
and doM not thit palpable lubeerTienoy of one part of
the itructnre of birdi to the rett, irreaiitibljr inculcate
the truth that one maiter-hand hat regulated the whole t

In the beakt or billi of birdi, rarioui ai are their
foimt, we can trace an eiaot adaptation to the food of
the ipeoiee. In thoie that tear their prey, ae the eagle
and hawk — or bruiie hard fruiti, as the parrot — or
penetrate the bark of treei, ai the woodpecker — the
dIUi are of extraordinary hardnen, and, in form, inti-
mately connected with the habiti of the animal. In
thoie to whom a lenie of feeling in thii part ii necei-
mrj to enable them to find their food in mud or water,
■■ the duck, it ii rnj tod, generally flattened, and lo
oonitnicted that fluids mar niter through it, while the
•olid food ii retained. A bill hooked at the ond, with
■harp edgei, eharacterim birdt of prey. Another ipeoiei
of itrong iharp-edged bill, of an elongated ihape, but
without a hook, terrei to cut and break, but not to tear;
and thii ii the form of the bill in bird* which lire upon
animali which make reiiitance in the water; some of
thete are etraight, ai in the heron— othen ourred, tome
downwardi, tome upwardt. Some iharp-edged bilU
hare their lidet approximating, like the blade of a
knife to its handle, and thut adapted to leice imall lub-
■taaoei; at the penguin. The tmall, conical, arched
bill of poultry lerret only to take up grain. The billt
of the tmaller birdi pretent all the Tarietiei of the co-
nical form, iVom the broad-bated cone of the hawfinch
to the thread-like cone of the humming-bird. Such of
them at hare strong thort billt lire on grain; thote
with long thin ones, on insects. Where the bill is short,
flat, opening Terv anteriorly, as in martens and swal-
Iowa, the bird seizes flies and butterflies in the air; and
if it be long and curred, possessing some strength, we
find it gruM up worms for its food. The same eridence
of design which we disoorer in the bills of birds adapt-
ing them to procure the kind of food on which the indi-
rldual is to subsist, is apparent also in the conformation
of their digestire organs. As the food of birds yaries
fh>m the softest animal matter to the hardest gnun, so
we obserre erery gradation in the structure of their
■tomachs, from the membranous sac of the camirorous
tribes to the true muscular gizzard of ^nirorous birds
— Taiying according as the food consists of animal or
vegetable materials, or presents more or less resistance
from the cohesion of its texture.

In no branch of natural history do we find more re-
markable eridences of design than in the varieties of
kinds of covering of animals adapted to their wants and
situations on the globe. The covering of birds, in par-
ticular, < cannot,' savs Paley, * escape the most vulgar
observation. Its lightness, its smoothness, its warmth
— the disposition of the feathers all inclined backward,
the down about their stem, the overlapping of their tips,
their different configuration in different parts, not to
mention the variety of their colours, constitute a vest-
ment for the l>ody so beautiful, and so appropriate to
the life which the animal is to lead, as that, I think, we
should have had no conception of anything equally
perfect if we had never teen it, or can now imagine
anything more so. Let ut tuppose (what is possible
only in supposition) a person who had never seen a bird
to be presented with a plucked pheasant, and bid to set
his wits to work how to contrive for it a covering which
shall unite the qualities of warmth, levity, and least
resistance to the air, and the highest degree of each :
giving it also as much of beauty and ornament as he
could afford. He is the person to behold the work of
the Deity, in this part of His creation, with the senti>
ments wnich are due to it.

The commendation which the general aspect of the
feathered world seldom fails of exciting, will be in-
oreaied by further examination. It is one of those
876

eattt In which the phllowphtr haa more to admirt than
the common obterrer. Every /ImMst It a mechanical
wonder. If we look at the quliI, we find propertiet not
eatily brought together — ttrength and ligBtnest. I
know few tningt more remarkable than the ttrength
and lightnett of the very pen with which I am writing.
If we oast our eye to the upper part of the ttem, we tee
a material, made for the purpote, uied In no other olatt
of animalt, and in no other part of birdt; tough, light,
pliant, and elaitic. The pith, alto, which feeds the
Mathers is, amongst animal substances, ml g»turi»t
neither bone, flesh, membrane, nor tendon.

But the artificial part of a feather is the beard, or,
as it is sometimes, I believe, called, the vane. By the
beards are meant what are fastened on -each side of the
stem, and what constitute the breadth of the feather;
what we usually strip off from one side or both whan
we make a pen. The separate pieces, or laminss, of which
the beard is composed are called threads, sometimes
filamentt or rays. Now the first thing which an atten-
tive observer will remark is, how much stronger the
beard of the feather shows itself to- be, when pressed in
a direction perpendicular to its plane, than when rubbed,
either up or down, in the line of the stem ; and he will
soon discover the structure which occasions this diffe-
rence — namely, that the laminss whereof these beards
are composed are flat, and placed with their flat sides
towards each other; by which means, whilst they etmlg
bend for the approaching of each other, as any one may
perceive by drawine his finger ever so lightly upwards,
they are harder to bond out of their plane, wnicn Is the
direction in which they have to encounter the impulse
and pressure of the air, and in which their strength is
wanted, and put to the trial.

This is one particularity in the structure of a feather :
a second is still more extraordinary. Whoever exa-
mines a feathur, cannot help taking notice that the
threads, or laminae, of which we have been speaking, in
their natural state unite; that their union is something
more than the mere apposition of loose surfaces; that
they are not parted asunder without some degree of
force; that nevertheless there is no glutinous cohesion
between them ; that therefore, by some mechanical
means or other, they catch or clasp among themselves,
thereby giving to the beard, or vane, its closeness and
compactness of texture. Nor is this all : when two
laminae which have been separated by accident or force
are brought together again, they immediately rtelatp :
the connection, whatever it was, is perfectly recovered,
and the beard of the feather becomes as smooth and
firm as if nothing had happened to it. Draw your finger
down the feather, which is against the grain, and you
break, probably, the junction of tome of the contiguout
threadt ; draw your finger up the feather, and you
restore all things to their former state. Tnit it no
common contrivance : and now for the mecbanitm by
which it it effected. The threadt or laminse above-
mentioned are inUHaoed with one another, and the
interlacing is performed by means of a tast number of
fibres, or teeth, which the laminai shoot forth on each
eUle, and which hook and grapple together. A friend
of mine counted fifty of these fibres in ene-twentieth
of an inch. These fibres are crooked, but curved after
a different manner; for those which proceed from the
tluead on the side towards the extremity of the feather
are longer, more flexible, and bent downwards; whereas
those wnich proceed from the side towards the begin-
ning or quill end of the feather, are shorter, firmer, and
turn upwards. The process, then, which takes place is
as follows: — When two laminie are pressed together,
so that these long fibres are forced far enough over the
short ones, their crooked parts fall into the cavity made
by the crooked parts of the others, just as the latch that
is fastened to a door enters into the cavity of (he catch
fixed to the door-post, and there hooking itself, faetena
the door ; for it is properly in this manner that one
thread of a feather is fastened to the other.

This admirable structure of the feather, which, it it
eaty to tee with the microicope, succeeds perfectly for

imlf than
mtobuilakl
npwtiM not
|btn«M. I
be sinngth
Mn writing,
lam, w« ■••
) other oImi
ouch, light,
i n«d« the
wi ftntritt

w bMrd, or,
ne. By the
[ lide of the
\,he feather;
' both when
nH,of whieh
, fometimee
sh an atten-
itronger the
n preeeed in
rhen rubbed,

and he will
■ thii diffe-
Aeae beardi
eir flat lidee
t they Hurify
my one may
tly upward*,
which it the

the impulie
r itrength is

of a feather :
'hoever exa-
ice that the
Bpe%kine, in
ii wmetning
iirfacet; that
pe degree of
out cohesion
mechanical
themtehei,
loienen and
. when two
lent or force
ely rtelatp :
y recovered,
tmooth and
your finger
in, and you
contiguoui
and you
Tais is no
cbanitm by
lince abore-
, and the
number of
rth on each
A iriend
e-twentieth
urred after
from the
the feather
it; whereat
the begin-
firmer, and
;es place it
I together,
;h orer the
mty made
latch that
the catch
f, fattent
ir that one

irhioh, it it
|»rfeotly for

MAViniAL YHBOLOOY.

the nse to which nature haa designed it; which ute was,
not only that the lamina might bo united, but that,
when one thread or lamina hat boon teparated firom
another by tome eitoinal violence, it might be reolatped
with tuflcient flwility and eipedition.

In the oUrieh, thit apparatut of crotchets and flbret,
of hooks and teeth, is wanting; and we tee the oonio-
quenoe of the want. The filaments hang lonao and lepa-
rate fVom one another, forming only a kind of down ;
which oonttitution of the featnert, however it may fit
them fbr the flowing honoura of a ladWt head-drets,
may be reckoned an Imperfection in the bird, inasmuch
as wings oompoied of tbete feathers, although they may
greatly assist it in running, do not serve for flight.

Bat under the present division of our tubject, our
bniiness with featners it, as they are the eov0ring of
the bird. And herein a singular oircumttance oooun.
In the small order of birds which winter with us, from
a snipe downwards, let the external colour of the fea-
thers be what it will, their Creator has universally
given them a bed of black down next their bodies.
Black, we know, is the warmest colour : and the pur-
poie here it, to kMp in the heat ariting ttom the heart
and circulation of the blood. It it further Ukewite
remarkable, that thit is not found in laiger birds; for
which there is also a reason :— Small bh-ds are much
more exposed to the cold than large ones; foratmuch
as they present, in proportion to their bulk, a much
larger turface to the air. If a turkey were divided into
a number of wrent ^tuppotins the thape of the turkey
and the wren to be timilar), the turface of all the wrent
would exceed the turface of the turkey, in the proiior-
tion of the length and breadth (or of any homologout
line) of a turkey to that of a wren; which would be
peritaps a proportion of ten to one. It was necessary,
therefore, that small birds should be more warmly clad
than large ones; and this seems to be the expedient by
which that exigency is provided for.

The oil with which birds prune their feathers, and
the organ which supplies it, is a epecific provision for
the winged creation. On each tide of the rump of birds
is observed a small nipple, Yielding upon pretture a
butter-like tubttance, wnich the bird extractt by pinch-
ing the pap with itt bill. With this oil or ointment thui
procured, the bird drettet itt coat, and repeatt the
action as often as itt own leniationt teach it that it it
in any port wanted, or at the excretion may be sufficient
for the expense. The gland, the pap, the nature and
quality of the excreted tubttance, the manner of obtain-
ing it from itt lodgment in the body, the application of
it when obtained, form, collectively, an evidence of
intention which it it not eaty to withttand. Nothing
similar to it it found in unfeathered animalt. What
blind eonatua of nature ihould produce it in birdt!
should not produce it in beasts) '

As we have entered so fully into this subject when
treating of other clattes of beings, we shall not here
revert to it, or bring forward illustrations of the truth of
our proposition ; the facts already detailed teem tuffi-
cient to ditplay the wiidom which the great Creator
hat evinced in thit department of the animal world.
Nothing can be more worthy of remark than the ex-
hauttleti contrivancet by which evenr difficultv it ob-
viated, and nature moulded to the will of itt Almighty
Author. How many obttaclet were to be overcome
before a heavy body like that of an eagle or the mighty
condor could be rendered buoyant in the air, and made
to track itt adventurout courae to high above the earth
at to be almott lott to human gaze t How many con-
ditiont were necetsary to give wfety and enjoyment to
the tmallett of the winged triltet, even after the first
obt(aclet were overcome I And yet how wonderfully
timple and efficaciout the mechanitm by which the
whole has been accomplished 1

Blructoie of the Mammalia.
We now arrive at the consideration of the mammalia,
or those animals which suckle their young; and at the
head of this great class we find man proudly pre-emi*

nont. Wo have alfeodr seen tlutk M th« mOtriaU ••
which the (Unction of digestion is to bo petformed ai«
numerous and diversifled, so a diffinwieo exists In the
parts which are subservient to it. Without altering the
general plan of the function, or the essential parts of
the organs oonosmed in it, nature makee suon addi-
tional provisions, in the instincts by which tho reeoptioB
of food is guided, and in the organs by which it is asai*
milated, as are suited to the ciroumstancu in whieh tho
animal is plaeed, to the food on which it is to subsist,
and to the ulterior purposes which it it to tervo in the
world. Such evidencet of detign are very reqiarkablt
in the mammalia; and in few organs are they moro
powerftiUy instanced than in the teeth, between whieh
In form, structure, and position, and the kind of food
on which each animal oi this clikss is intended to sub-
sist, the most intimate connections present themselvea.
These relations — which, indeed, may be also traced in
the thape of the Jaw, in the mode of its articulation with
the head, in the proportional siie and distribution of
the muscles which move the Jaw, in the form of tho
head itself, in the length of the neck and its position on
the trunk, and, in fact, in the whole conformation of
the skeleton — have been noticed from very early ages,
and frequently described.

The purpotet antwered by the teeth are principally
thote or telling and detaining whatever it Introdaoed
into the mouth, of cutting it aaunder, and dividing it
into tmaller piecet, of lootenin^ itt fibrout itructuro,
and of breaking down and grinding its harder portions.
Four principal forms have been eiven to, teeth, which
aooordinsly may be dirtinguished into the coniciJ, the
sharp -edged, the flat, and the tuberculated teeth;
thoush we occasionally find a few intermediate modi-
ficatfons of these forms. It is eaty to infer the parti-
cular functiont of each date of teeth, from the obvious
mechanical actions to which, by their form, they are
especially adapted. The conical teeth, which are gene-
rally alto tharp-pointed, are principally employed in
teizing, piercing, and holding objecti; tuch are the
officet they perform in the crocodile and timilar rep-
tiles, where all the teeth are of thit ttructure; and tuch
alto are their utet in mott of the ce^cea or whale tribe,
where timilar formt and arran^mentt of teeth are found
to prevail. The animalt tubtiit on fiih, and their teeth
are therefore conttructed very much on the model of
thote of fish ; while thote cetacea, on the other hand,
which are herbivoroui, as the manatus and dugong,
have teeth very diflerently formed.

The sharp-edged teeth perform the office of cutting
and dividing the yielding texturea pretented to them:
they act individually at wedget or chitelt; but whoa
co-opcratine with timilar teeth on the oppotite jaw,
they have the power of cutting like theart or icitsors.
The flat teeth, of which the surfaces are gener»lly
rough, are used, in conjunction with those meeting
them in the oppotite jaw, for grinding down the' food
by a lateral motion, in a manner analogout to the ope-
ration of millitonet in a mill. The tuMrculated teeth,
of which the aurfaces present a number of rounded
eminences, corresponding to depretsrons in the teeth
opposed to them in the other jaw, act more by their
direct pressure in breaking down hard substances, and
pounding them as they would be in a mortar.

The apparatus for givine motion to the Jaws is like-
wise varied according to tne particular movements re-
quired to act upon the food in the different tribes. The
articulation of the lower jaw to the skull is somewhat
similar to a hinge; but considerable latitude is given to
its motions by the interposition of a movable cartilage
between the two surfaces of articulation, a contrivance
admirably answering the intended purpose. Hence, in
addition to the principal movements of opening and
shutting, which are made in a vertical direction, the
lower jaw has also some degree of mobility in a hori-
zontal or lateral direction, and is likewise citable of
being moved backwards or forwards to a certain extent.
In the conformation of the teeth and jaws, a remarkable
contrast is presented between camivoious and herbi-

377

OBnanM nfotMAiioi fORiBi noptj.

VtMMMlfaMk btlMfMMr,ar«kMlllMtlfWMJ
U tokM M M nMBrk *)» «w>i* amMtvi for ■•••
UMlion U wlmibUa4 fcr tka dMtruallgii of lib, m4 for
tawrbf Mi4 dif I4iag ih» tmky ibiM. TIm tMtk Mt
MiMdviUi rolot*' muIbcmm, wkiok Mrrw|wiid iu Um

rsita i»Mk M M fuiiUy to lock into on* MiotkM,
wkMlmrk, wkm tka mouUi !■ oloMd, ud Ik* mu*'
•I** wkWk *>••• Ik M* of Mionnoui ■!■* Md atrmiitk.

la kk* kwrMvofou* Miimala. on tk* oonlnry, m In tk*

I |r*n>**< tow U '
Ik* motioM of opming nnd ikuUing, m on tko** wkiok

MtoUp^kk*!

\ fon* u b*aiow*dt not m muck on

M* B**M*Mir for griadinf, ud wnlsk Ml in » l»l*ral

tfiiMlion. Tk* wufM*t of Ik* t**lk nr* flntUnud, and
of gimM *it*nl I nad ik*]r an at tk* lam* tim* k*pt

iMigk, lik* Ikoa* of miUtlon**, lk*ir olBo* b*inK in fa«l
ftwy ■imtlar to Ikat p*rform*d by Ik*** lroplaiii*ala of
artadiag. Tk* lUitmUm, or gnawing qu*dru|)«df, ar*
nraiad for Nb*l*ling on drjr aitd lougk matorialt, luck
■• Ik* bark and root*, and *v*n Ik* woody flbra* of tr***,
and Ik* kardar aniroal l*ilur**( and Ikoir t**tk ar*
•ipiaaaljr adaplad for gnawing, nibbling, and waaring
awiur, b/ «*Bllntt*d allHllon, lb* kardwr Uitur* of or-
gaaiiMd bodi**. Tkay aia all ftamiditd witk two front
walb, g*n*callr vwy long, and kaving tb* *iaot ibap*
of a okiMl; wbil* tb* molar or back t««ib bar* turfao**
inagularljr niarkad witk raia*d lig-iag linva, r*nd*r-
iag tk*m T*r7 p*r<SMt initram*nU of trituration. Tb*
b*av*r and eommon rat ar* *canipl*i among omni-
rorou* rodontia, and Ik* kar* and rabbit among tboM
tkat an prinoipalljr barbivoroui.

Tk* Qaa rf r w iiflw a , or monkojr tribe*, approack n*anr
to Ik* Auman ■troetun in la* ooiiformation of Ikoir
t**th, wki«b an adaplad to a misad kind of food|
wkiU tk* otk*r ordan of mammalia oakibit gradation*
ia Ik* atnidun of Ikoir taatk oorraapondlng to tk*
rariati** in Ika natun of tkair food. * On oompariug
tk* atructuN of Ik* dig**tiT* organi of man,' ooutinuea
Dr Rogot, ' witk tko** of otbor animal* balonging to
Ik* claai mammalia, w* find tk*m kolding a plaoa in
tk* aari** int«rm*diato b*tw**n tko** of tb* punly
aarniToroui and oaoliuiroly b*rbiTorou* trib**, and in
t-HB* m*aaun uniting tb* obaradw* of botb. Tb*
powwn of tb* kumao *tomack do not indaod ezt*nd to
ika dig**tion «f *itk*r tk* tough woodjr flbroa of T*g*t-
aUa^' oa Ika ona band, or tka compact taztun of
bonat OB tka othar; but atill tkajr are couipetant to
axtrati aouriakmetit from a wider range of alimenlaiy
aubatai'ce* than the digeitive organ* of almost any
otber animal. Thii adaptation to a greater rariely of
tooi. may alao be inferred from tk* form and diapoaition
of tka teetk, wkioh combine thoa* of diffennt kind*
■ion ooraplotcly than in moat mammalia. In addition
to than paeuliaritiaa, we may alao hen obierve, that
tka aaiue of taato in the human ipooiee appoan to be
aSbetad by a greater rariely of object* tnan in the
ftkar racea of animal*. All tkaae an concurring indi-
aatioaa tkat natun, in tkua rendering man omniroroui,
latandad to qualiAr him (or maintaining life wLanrar
ha aould promin tha matarialaof aubaiatmioe, whatavar
might be their natun, whether animal or Tegelable,
tr a miztun of both, and in whatarer aoil or olimat*
th*y ma^ b* produa*d ( and tat andowing him with tha
power of q>raiMliiig hi* raoa, and axtanding hi* dominion
orer arery aoeataiNa ragion of tha globe. Thui, than,
fnn Ika aonaidaration oif tha paeulur ■truotun of the
onan* of hi* frame, may ba derived proof* of their
baipg ffonMniatad with refannca to facultiea of a highar
aod mon eataoaire range than thoao of any, area the
Moal favourad, ■padaa of lb* brut* cr*ation.'

Than i* onadnunutano* oonnaetad with tha funetion
«f digwiion, a* diiplMrad in o*rlain of tk* mammalia,
to which, a* cridmatng great and wondarful d**ign
and aeoommodattOB in Htouotun to circumitano*, w*
would partioularly allude : it i* the ftcility and powor
of Ih* cantl of abataining long from drioking->-a power
vhicfc ha ia often n*c**iitat*d to bring into oneet during
tha long period of nina, Ian, or otod twelre day*. It
ia by tk* aingular atruotun of th* oamal'i atomaoh I
that it iaanabM to pa« iwsh a tin* without drinh- 1
178

lag, MMl t* t»ha la at mm* » pvodigiMW qu»tUy •/
walar, wkkrii l a ai a lB* la marroin Ban aad limpid,
baoaua* lb*** w*U* an m *ealriv*d tkat B*ilk*r Ik*
fluid* of Ik* bod/ nor of dinatioa oaa mil witk it.
Wkat d**im la kan I— and bow radalaal af wiadom.
and kow Atll of maniY I Bui latuiaadaavoarloaa plain
tka natun of Ikia itruatun wkiek to arldantly auapt*
tka aaroel to be Ika iiibabilaat of Ilia itarila aad arid
rMiona of tka Kaali— Rutninalbg quadruped*, or tk*M
wniak ckaw Ika oud, kave two, tarae, or four •loma*ki|
diatinguiakod, wkan then an four, by the naroea af

rWN«A, ioNN«l, man^f^itt, aad mJIm. Whan the food
■wallowed for the first tiwa. it paian directly Awat
the gullet into tka paunok, wkan it undargoea lora*
neeanary ebang**, and it U th*n lran*roitl*d to th*
bonnot, to b* roix*d with tk* fluid* of Ik* oarity. Tkl*
proo*** ia going on during tka time Ika animal ia gnaing,
wkan, from Ike lnea*iant ooeupatiou of nipping oflT tka
gran^ for wkiok it* t**tk an lo admirably mitod, it
ka* not laiaun to ckaw it MiflieientlT, Wken aflarwaida
npoaing itnlf, kowarar, Ika half-ohawad aliment 1*
bnught again in luooeiaira Utile balla, fh>m the bonnet
into tha mouth, wkan it ia aubiaoted to a parfeol maa*
tiaatiou; and whan again iwallowad, it paaaaa dfteetly
to the niany>pliea, Ihanoa, after tome time, to the oailla,
aad ultimately lo tha intaatina*. In tka camel, kow>
.ever, tha paunch ha* two d**p o*lluIar anp*ndag**i
and th* bonnet, or lacond ilomach. ka* ft* iulwmal
mambran* hollowed into numanui oaap oelU, aenring
aa raaanroin of water, to be uied only M ooaaaion r»>
quir**{ wbil* th* Ihiid atomaoh ii alon* appropriatad
to the immediate neoearitiea of Ike bodv. Between tka
•ud uf tha guUat, then, and the oriflo* of thia third
•tomaoh, eitandi, through Ih* two ftnt, a long muaola
capabl* of dnwing up th* third atomaoh, lo u to n-
c*iT0 alimentary mattan directly fnm tha gullet, whan
the immediate wanti of tha animal an to ba auppliad;
but when the fluid taken ia meant to ba utad only in ita
loiiff ioumayi through tka daaerta, thU muMle ia niaxed,
and it ia thu* reoaired into the two flnt atomaoba, and
tranamittad onward* by thaae only at the necetaary
intanrala. Tha Anba who trarem thaae aitauair*
plaina, acoompaniad by than uaafUl aniouUa, an, it ia
iaid, aomatimea obliged, whan faint, and in danger of
periihing from tbirat, to kill one of their camel*, for
lb* lake of tha water contained in then rfmiroin,
which ia always found pun and wholaaoma.

Comiianiatlon of Puta la Antmatad Natun,
Th* aTidano** of d**ign in cr*ation an boautiAilly
d*velop*d in what i* oall*d the oompenaatoiy itruatun
of animali. By thii ii aignified the wipplying the
da&cti of one organ by the atruotun of another part
or organ. Paley baa niromad up a few itriking in-
Rtuncei of thii natun. ' The ahoit unbending neck of
the elephant,' layi he, ' ii coupauiatad br the length
and daaibility of hia probotcU. Ha oould not bar*
reached the around without it ( or, if it ba luppoaod
that ha might bare fed upon the fruit, laaTaa, or
branchea of traea, how waa ha to drink I Should it ba
aikad. Why ia the elephant'a neck lo abort I it may b*
anawared, that the weight of a bead ao heavy oould
not have been aupportad at tha and of a longar lavar.
To a form, thanion, in lome r**p*cta na co iia i y, but
in aome napeoti alao inadaquata to tha oooaiiona of Ike
animal, a auppUment ia added, which ezaotly makas
up the defioiaaey under which ha laboured.

If it b* auggeated that thia proboacia mav have been
produced, in a lona ooum of generationi, by the ooa-
•taat end«aTour of th* *l*phant lo tbruat out hia noa*
(which ia tha general hypotneaia by which it hai lately
been attamplM to account for tko forma of animated
natun), I would aak. How waa the animal to aubaiat in
the ine^intime, during the prooeaa, uaM this prolonga-
tion of snout were completed I What was to become
of the individual whilst the apaoiea waa perfecting }

Our buainess at present is aimply to point out the
nlation which thia organ bean to the poculiar figuro
ofthaanimaltowkkhitMongB, Alulkani»»Utkinsi

ad llmpM,

ill wUk U.
•f wlMlom.
rtoMPUUn
ml/ MApM
!• Md Mid
dt,ortkMt
ratoroMkiL

■ DMBM H
» tiM food

nctl/ (Vont

ktod to th«
»vlty. TbU
iiigraalng,
plof off tM
y MiiUd, ik
ikfUrwMdfl
aliroont U
I tho bonaal
ttrfoot IHM-
•M dftMtljr
10 tbo oftilU,

IMUOlt bow*

itATtmit moLooY.

lU lutonia
•1U« wnr ing
oooiifioo r«<
tppnprUtad
Botwoon tho
if thii third
long mttwla
, w M to re-

KlUt, when
■upplied}
d only in ita
leiirelftxed,
omaohitUtd
M neoetiMj
ie oitauuf*
Ji, are, it ii
dMger of
cMuelf , for
rticrToin,

an,

beftutiAiUy
rj itnutur*
iplying the
Dother part
itriking in-
line neck of
' the length
1 not b»r«
« luppoiad
laaToe, or
hould it U
it may be
_»Ty could
_>nger lever.
lOMaryibut
lioni of tb«
etly nuikM

bftTobeen
y the COB-
it hia noee

baa lately
' aninftted
iBubaiat in

prolong*-
|to become

ting!
jit out the
tliar figure

ilOlthingf

N^Mi. Tk* BMMaltj of the olerhMtl pMboaala
• AwB tite akortMaa of bia nadti the aboHneaa of
neek la Nndated lainMirr h* iba walckl af Ibe

la iMdarad a aeaiaa r y by the weight of

WaN we to enter Into an eiMninfttlaa of the
atniolura and aontomy of the proboeeie Itaelf, wt akould
eat tn it one of the aoat euriooa of all eiamplaa of
•ninu, roeebanlan. The dlapeoitlon of the ringleta and
ibraa, for the purpoee, jlrtt, ot forming n long aaftUft-
gtaoua pipe I iMondfy, of oootractlng and lengthening
that pipe I lAM/y, of turning It In erarr dlreetion nl
the will of the animal; with the wponiddltlon, t the
end, of a fleihy production of about the leiutb and
tblckneae of » finger, and performing the ofloe of a
finger, ao aa to pick up a atrnw from the ground— theae
ptopertlea of the aame organ tnken together, esblUt a
apecimen not only of dealgii (wbleh la nttoeted by the
advantage), but of eonaumnutU art, and, aa I may lay,
of elnbomte preparation, in aocompllabing thnt deaign.

The hook in the wing of n falla itrletly a meebanioal,
and alao a tomptiumUnp, eontrlTance. At the angle of
ite wing there la n bent claw, exactly In the form of c.
book, by wkloh the bat nttaebec Iteelf to the aldec of
rocki,eftT«e,and bulldlnp, laying hold of cr«rleae,Joln-
Ingi, chinki, and roughneMoe. It hooka itaelf by tbU
dnw; remalna iuapended by tbia bold; takea Ita flight
ttom thla poaltlon i which operatlona oomponiate for the
decrepitude of lu lege and feet. Without her book, the
b«t would be the moat belpleae of all animala. She can
neither ran upon her ftet, nor rnlae bereelf firom the
ground. Theae Innbllitiea are made up to her by the
oontriTanoe In her wing; and In nladng n claw on that
part, the CraMor h^« doTlated m>m the nnalogy uiu-
ally obeerred in -..ntni anlmnla. A alngular defect
reoulred a eingulnr iooatitute:

The ermnt Kind are to live and a«ek their food
amongit the waten, yet, having no web feet, an in-
capnbTe of awimmlng. To mnke up for thla deficiency,
they are ftimUbed with long len for wndlnc, or long
bllu for groping; or aaually witik both. Th» ii eom-
jmuatitm. But I think the true reflection upon the
nreaent Inatance li, bow every part of nature ii tenanted
by npproprUte Inhabltanta. Not only ia the aurfaoe of
deep watera peopled by nnmeroua tnbee of birda tbftt
■wlm, but manhet and ihallow pooli are fumlahcd with
hardly leta numeroua tribee of birda that wnde.

The common parrot haa. In the itructnre of Iti benk,
both an inconvcniency and a «omj)«MaMon for It.
When I apeak of an iuconveniency, I have a view to
a dilemma which frequently occurs in the worka of
nature — namely, that the peculiarity of structure by
which an organ la made to answer one purpoee, neces-
sarily unfits it for some other purpose. This Is the case
before us. The upper bill of the parrot ia ao much
hooked, and so much overlaps the lower, that If, as in
other Uids, the lower diap alone had motion, the bird
could scarcely gute wide enough to receive Its food;
yet this hook and overlapping of the bill could not be
spared, for it forms the very Instrument by which the
bird climbs, to say nothing of the use which it makes
of it in breaking nuts and the hard substances upon
which it ieeds. How, therefore, has nature provided
for the opening of this ocduded mouth 1 By making
the upper chap movable, aa well as the lower. In
most buda the upper chap is connected, and makes
but one piece, witn the skull; but in the parrot, the
upper chap is joined to the bone of the bead by a strong
lunment or membrane placed on each aide or it, which
lifts and depresses it at pleasure.

The mider't «eb is a eoumtuatinp contrivance. The
spider lives upon flies, without wings to pursue them;
a case, one would have thotuht, of great difiiculty, yet
provided for, and provided for by a resource which no
stratagem, no effort of the animal, could have produced,
had not both its external and Internal structure been
specifically adapted to the operation.

In many species of insects the eye is fixed, and con-
sequently without the power of taming the pupil to
the object. This great defect is, however, penectly
•ompeiwafeif, and by a mechanism idtidi we should not

iUBMt. Tha ayt if » ■•MpiyiM ^mi. wUk a Unl
loofciag In every diifetica. and aatekkig every el^; by
whleh meana, altkoogh the ee b W the eve be statloMnr.
the field of vision is as ampU aa Ibht of other M'nafr,
and Ueemmaaded on every aide. Whan thla Ultloe-work
waa flrat obaervad, tha multlpliaiiy and alnutaueae of
the surflMes must have addeil to the surprlaa of tha dla-
eevatv. Adama telle ua that 1400 of thaee retleulatiana
have Men counted la the two eyes of a drone-bee.

In other eaaee the mtupuuatitit la eActai by tha
number and poeltloo of the eyea themselves. ThaMidar
haa eight eyae, mounted upon difierant parta of tha
head; two In front, two in the top of the head, two en
each eide. Theee eyes are without motion, but by their
situation suited to comprehend every view which tha
wanta or safety of the animal render naeesiary.

Tha Memoirs for the Natural Hletory of Anlnall^
published by tha French Academy in tha vear lM7f
nimlsh us with some curloue particulars in tne eve of a
chameleon. Instead of two eyelids, it is covered by an
eyelid with a hole In It. This singular structure appears
to be mmpnualarf, and to answer to some other suigu-
larttlee In the shape of the animal. The neek of tha
chameleon Is inflexible. To make up for this, tha aye ia
so prominent, that more than hair of tha^ball standa
out of the head; by means of which extraordinary pro-
jection, the pupil of tha eye can be carried bv tha
muaeles In eveiy direction, and is capable of Wng
pointed towards every object. But then, so unusual an
exposure of the globe of the eye requiree, for Ite lubri-
city and defence, a more than ordinary protection of
eyelid, aa well as a more than ordinarv supply of moia-
ture; yet the motion of an eyelid, formed according
to the common construction, would be impeded, as it
should seem, by the convexity of the organ. The aper-
ture in the eyelid meets this diflleulty. It enables
the animal to keep the principal part of the surface of
the eye under cover, and to preserve it in a due state
of humidity without shutting out the light; or with-
out performing evenr moment a nictitation, which, in
all probability, would be more laborious to this animal
than to others.

But the work-i of the Deity are known by expedients.
Where we should look for absolute destitution, where
wa can reckon up nothing but wanta, some contrirance
always eomee in to supply the privation. A imtU, with-
out wings, feet, or thnwd, climbs up the stalks of plants
by the sole aid of a viscid humour discharged from her
skin. She adherea to the stems, leaves, and fruits of
plants by means of a sticking plaster. A muMtd, which
might seem by Ita helplessness to lie at the merey of
every wave that went over It, has the singular power
of spinning strong tendinous threads, by which aha
moors her 3ieU to rocks and timbers. A eoekk, en the
eontraiy, by means of it* stiff tongue, works for itself
a shelter in the sand. The provisions of nature extend
to casee the most desperate. A lobtter haa in its con-
stitution a difficulty so great, that one could hardly con-
jecture iMforehand how nature could dispose of it. In
most animals, the skin grows with their growth. If,
instead of a soft skin, there be a shell, still it admits of
a gradual enlargement. If the shell, i&s in the tortoise,
consists of several pieces, the accession of substance is
made at the sutures. Bivalve shells grow bigger by
receinnt; an accretion at their edge; it is the same with
spiral anells at their mouth. Tfao drnpUdtv of their
form admit* of this. But the lobeter's shell being m-
plled to the limbs of the bodv, aa well aa to the bodv
itself, allows not of either of the modee of growth which
are obeerved to take place in other shells. I U hardnef i
resists expansion, and its complexity renders it inca-
pable of increanng its aize by addition of attl>fit.uioe to
Ite edge. How, then, was the growth of the lobster to
be provided for I Waa room to be made for it <n the
old ahell, or was iv to be sueoeeaively fitted with n«w
ones I If a change of shell became n e cessa r y, how was
the lobster to extrieate hinadf firom his present con-
finement t — ho«r waa lie to uncaaa hia buckler, or draw
hislegtotttoffaiabootat Tha ptoosM which fiahermeii

CHAMBEBCra INFOBMATIQir FOB THE PEOPLE.

hki» oblenred to toke plM» ia m foUowi: — At oertain
MMoni the ihell of the lobster grows soft; the MtiiniJ
•wells its body; the seams open, Mid the cUws burst at
the joints. When the shell nas thus become loose upon
the body, the animal makes a second effort, and by a
tremulous spasmodic motion, casts it off. In this state
the liberated but defenceless fish retires into holes in
the rock. The released body now suddenly pushes its
growth. In about eight-and-forty hours, a fresh con-
aution of humour upon the surface — tliat is, a new
■hell — is formed, adapted in every part to the Ihcreased
dimensions of the animal. This wonderful mutation
is repeated erei^ year,'

In tho chatiguif; of the colour of the chameleon, we
see one of the beautiful compensatory provisions of
nature. This little animal, which is common in the East
Indies and some other Asiatic countries, lives upon flies,
beetles, or other insects, which it catches by climbing
up shrubs or trees, and darting out its tongue; but its
pace is slow, and as insects hare good eyes to perceive
the approach of an enemy, they would be sure to make
their escape in the present case, unless the chameleon
approached them in disguise. This, therefore, it inva-
riably does. As it passes among green leaves, it is of
a green colour; and when it glides by any of a red or
yellow tinge, so does it change its hue to red or yellow.
So closely does it assume not only the shades and
colours, but even the shapes uf the leaves around, that
a spectator might look among the foliage for some
minutes before discovering it.

By carrying our observation upward from the mere
physical organisation of man, to the mind which he
pos se s ses , and is able to exert in reference to both sen-
sible objects and abstract subjects, we have still greater
reason to admire the proofs of design and soodness in
an overruling Creator; for we all feel that this principle
of mind — how constituted we do not here stop to m-
quire — is in harmony with the other works of creation
around us. For example, how much are our minds
suited to the recognition of what is beautiful and har-
monious in nature and art. This, however, admits of
a few separate observations: —

Beauty.

The wisdom of the great origipal Contriver is emi-
nently manifested in that property of inanimate and
animate objects which we call oeauty. Here there is
an evident fitness between the taste and habits of ani-
mals, human beings included, and what can be seen by
the eye. We feel pleasure in contemplating the works
of nature most obvious to our senses; and we cannot
but remark, that that which is loathsome is not ordi-
narily presented to the eye. The splendid colouring
of the vegetable kingdom, the smooth or spotted skins
of the brute creation, and the lovely plumage of the
feathered tribe, all give us delight in the contemplation.
Consider, also, how beautiful in the outward appearance
of the human form. Reflect on what the parts and
materials are of which the fairest body is composed,
and no further observation will be necessary to show
how well these things are wrapped up, so as to form a
mass which will be capable of symmetry in its propor-
tion, and of beauty in its aspect; how the bones are
covered — the bowels concealed — the roughness of the
muscle smoothed and softened ; how over the whole is
drawn an integument, the skin, which converts the
disgusting materials of a dissecting-room into an object
of attraction to the sight, or one upon which it rests at
least with ease and satisfaction.

The moro minutely that we inspect the works of
nature, the greater cause have we to wonder at the
extraordinary perfection and beauty everywhere pre-
valent. The microscope develops splendours in the
creation of insects which we nan hardly comprehend.
The back of a diamond-beetle exhibits an assemblage
of brilliant colours and glittering gems more splendid
than any artificial arrangement of the most precious
stones. The colours of the feathers of birds in tropical
climates, wd the skim of the fishes of Ceylon, are in-

comparable for their beauty. And why is all this the
case t Because it fields a pleasure to the sight, both
of men and other living creatures; for the Creator has
not denied the feeling of delight to the meanest reptile
which crawls. All is beautiful, it would appear, in tho
estimation of one or other of livine creatures. The roost
insignificant little flower, now blooming far from the
haunts of men, in some remote wilderness, does not, as
has been said, waste its sweetness on the desert air.
It furnishes an object of pleasing gratification to some
description of sentient creatures, perhaps so small as
to be imperceptible to our naked eye.

Placing agreeableness of aspect entirely out of the
question, there is another purpose answered by the
skin — and that is concealment. Were it possible to
view through this integument the mechanism of our
bodies, the sight would frighten as much as it would
disgust us. Hurst we make a single movement, or
stir a step from the place we were in, if we saw
our blood circulating, the tendons pulling, the lungs
blowing, the humours filtrating, and all the incompre-
hensible assemblage of fibres, tubes, pumps, valves,
currents, pivots, which sustain an existence at once so
frail and so presumptuous t

In clothing the human frame with a covering of skin,
the Creator has not omitted to vary its character accord-
ing to local necessities. The skin is most beautiful on
the face, because the face is most exposed to observa-
tion; it is softest where least liable to injury, and hardest
or firmest in texture where it is most subject to be
pressed upon. There is not less sign of contrivance in
the manner in which it ceases at the extremities of the
toes and fingers. A man has only to look at his hand,
to observe with what nicety and precision that covering,
which extends over every other part, is here superseded
by a different substance and a different texture. Why
do we find the skin cease at our fingers' ends, or on the
back part of the fingers, and not the fore part t Because
something hard or homy was required on these parts,
by which we could hold fast or lift nimbly objects which
we wished to grasp or seize upon. Nails, therefore, su-
persede the skin on such places. The same forethought
IS visible in the covering of our heads. What could
have been a more beautiful or appropriate substance
wherewith to cover the head and preserve the hard
bony skull from injury, than the hair, a substance at
once light, worm, and graceful t

DBSION IN VEOBTABLE PHYSIOLOOr.

In accordance with our intentions in glancing through
most of the natural sciences, and bringing home to the
main object of our labours treasures illustrative of
design from them all, let us now turn our attention to
those afforded by the vegetable kingdom of nature. And
first, of the mutual relations that exist between animals
and vegetables; in considering which, we shall find that
these two great organised kingdoms of the creation are
made to co-operate in the execution of the same design;
each ministering to the other, and preserving that due
balance in the constitution of the atmosphere which
adapts it to the welfare and activity of every order of
beings, and which would soon be destroyed were the
operations of any one of them to be suspended, ' It is
impossible to contemplate so special an adjustment of
opposite effects without admiriiiji, this beautiful dispen-
sation of Providence, extending over so vast a scale of
being, and demonstrating t''e unity of plan on which
the whole system of organised creation has been de-
vised.' We said in a K)rmer part of this essay that
tw) principles of atmospheric air were oxygen and
carbon; that the former was as essential to animal life
as the latter was obnoxious to it; but that, on the other
hand, carbon was indispensable to the continuance of
vegetable organisations. We will now endeavour to
explain this by a short account of the phenomena of
respiration, as displayed in the two kingdoms.

Among animals, the function of respiration is that
by which the blood, received into its vessels from the
alimentary caiiaJ, is, during its subsequent circulation,

NATUBAL THEOLOGY.

Jl tUi tho
light, botb
Ireator has
iMt reptile
lear, in tho
, The nioit
t from the
loet not, M
dcBert air.
«n to wme
o atuail as

out of the
red by the
possible to
lism of our
u it would
Teroent, or
if we aaw
, the lungs
) incompre-
ips, Talves,
) at once lo

ring of skin,
ctor accord-
leautiful on
to obierva-
and hardest
ibject to be
[itrivance in
aitiea of the
it his hand,
at covering,
i superseded
ture. Why
Is, or on the
rt? Because
these parts,
ibjects which
lierefore, su-
forethought
W^hat could
e substance
re the hard
abstance at

ing through
lume to the
istrative of
.ttention to
ature. And
Kn animals
11 find that
;reation are
ime design ;
ig that due
here which
ry order of
d were the
,cd. «ltis
lustment of
ful dispen-
a scale of
In on which
been de-
essay that
:yseu and
inimal life
the other
linuance of
leavour to
nomeua of

Ls.

Ion is that
from the
culation,

kept in a state of requisite purity. This is in all cases
efiectcd by bringing it at intervals into contiguity
either with atmospheric air alone, or with water con-
taining this air diffused through it; when such is the
mutual action of the blood and the air upon each
other, that the former is purified, and pato<)s in general
from a dingy purple to a bright scarlet colour, while
the latter is in tho same degree rendered impure, and
after a time becomes inadequate to support either re-
spiration or combustion. Now whether the aerating
organs be lungs or gills, it appears to be the object
of nature in their construction to expose a large sur-
face to the contact of air. This object is accomplished
by their division into numerous cells or leaf-like pro-
cesses, or by their extension on the walls of cavities,
or the surface of pectinated ridges. The blood brought
to these organs is there distributed by their termi-
nating branches. Although still retained in vessels,
i^ can nevertheless be easily acted upon by the air
on the exterior. Priestley found the colour of blood
changed by the air when enclosed in a moistened
bladder, and the same effect was observed by Hunter
when it was covered with goldbeaters' skin. It is
scarcely possible to determine by direct observation
what is the exact nature of the changes that the blood
undergoes in its passage through the lungs : the most
obvious is its change of colour; and the chemical diffe-
rences between the dark purple blood in the veins before
it has reached the lungs, and the bright vermilion
colour it exhibits in the arteries after it has circulated
through the lungs, and been exposed to the influence
of the air, may be collected from the changes made in
the air itself. Atmospheric air is known to consist of
certain principles in definite proportions; when it has
acted upon the blood, and is returned from the lungs,
it is found that a certain proportion of oxygen which
it contained has disappeared, and that the place of this
oxygen is almost wholly supplied by an addition of
carbonic acid gas and watery vapour. The exact quan-
tity of oxygen which is lost in natural respiration
varies in different animals, and even in different condi-
tions of the same animal. Birds, for instance, consume
larger quantities of oxygen by their respiration, and
hence require, for the maintenance of life, a purer air
than other vertebrated animals. Vauquelin, however,
found that many species of insects and worms possess
the power of abstracting oxygen from tho atmosphere
in a much greater degree than the larger animals ;
thus snails are capable of living fov a long time in
the vitiated air in which a bird had perished. Some
insects which conceal themselves in holes, or burrow
under ground, have been known to deprive the air of
every appreciable portion of its oxygen. It is observed
by Spallanzani, that those animals whose modes of life
oblige them to remain for a great length of time in
tj^ese confined situations, possess this power in a
greater degree than others which enjoy more liberty of
moving in the open air; so admirably have th 'onsti-
tutions of animals been in every instance accu.. mo-
dated to their respective wants.

Now bearing in mind that the air coining in contact
with the blood of animals parts with its oxygen, and re-
ceives in its place carbonic acid gas,* let us consider the
function of respiration, or, more properly, aoration, as it
occurs in vegetables. It was necessary that some means
should be appointed by which this great quantity of
carbon given out into the air by animals, and so inju-
rious to animal life, should be removed from it, V\'e
have said that this principle was necessary to vegetable
life; and here we find the means not only by which, in
a very considerable degree, it is procured, but also by
which it is removed from the atmosphere. The leaves
of plants are analogous to the lungs of animals, and
it is in them principally that the decomposition of the
carbonic acid absorbed from the air is effected. When
exposed to the action of the sun, they decompose that
gas, retain its carbon, and disengage its oxygen. Snlar
light is an essential agent in eflfecting this chemical
change ; for it is never found to take place at night,

nor while the plant is kept in the dark. That the
carbon resulting from this decomposition of carbonic
acid is retained by the plant, has been most satisfac-
torily proved by the experiments of Saussure, who
found that this process is attended with a sensible in-
crease in the quantity of carbon which the plant kod
previously contained, * Thus the great object to be
answered by this vegetable aiiration,' says Dr Roget,
speaking at considerable length of this undeniable
evidence of design to which we have thus shortly al-
luded, ' is exactly the converse of that which we see
effected by the respiration of animals ; in the former,
it is adding carbon to the vegetable organisation ; in
the latter, it is that of discharging the superfluous
quantity of carbon from the animal system. On the
whole, therefore, the atmosphere is continually receiv-
ing from the vegetable kingdom a large accession of
oxygen, and is at the same time freed from an equal
portion of carbonic acid gas, both of which effects tend
to its purification, and to its remaining adapted to the
respiration of animals.'

We have not much space to devote to the contem-
plation of vegetables, but we are unwilling to leave the
subject without alluding to some other evidences of
design which we find displayed in them. Among these,
nothing more beautifully demonstrates that nature, or
rather the Almighty Creator of nature, proceeds on »
uniformity of plan and*design, than the fact that plants,
as well as animals, are possessed of the means of repro-
ducing and continuing their species. The pistil which
occupies the centre of the flower is destined to produce
the seeds, while the stamens of the plant contain the
dust necessary for fertilising them, and without which
the seeds would not produce young plants. Nature has
guarded with nice care this precious dust, for on its
preservation depends the continuance of the species.
The apparatus by which in many flowers it is defended
from injury, is very curious; nor are the means that
are provided by which it comes in contact with the
stigma of the pistil less demonstrative of a great, a wise,
and a beneficent Providence, In some plants where tho
organs are in the same flower, the stamens are placed
above the stigma, upon which the dust, or pollen, falls
by its own gravity ; in others, we find the contrary is
the case, the pistil being the longest ; but here the
flower is generally drooping. To assist the emission of
the pollen, and its contact with the stigma, in many
plants the stamens possess a very apparent moving
power. When ripe, the ten stamens of the rue are seen
alternately to bend down upon the stigma, deposit their
portion of pollen, and return to their former position.
The stalks or filaments of the pellitory of the wall are
possessed of a remarkable elasticity, and thus forcibly
scatter the pollen. This is very apparent if touched by
the point of a needle; immediately it acts with a jerk,
which dashes the pollen with some force on the stigma.
The same arrangement is met with in the barberry
bush, in which the six stamens remain sheltered under
the concave tips of the flower-leaves or petals, till some
extraneous body, as an insect in search of honey, touches
the filament, wliich instantly contracts, and also dashes
the pollen against the stigma. But all plants have not
'heir stamens and pistils sheltered under the same veil ;
in many they are in difllrent flowers, and in others even
placed on different plants. Here, again, we have to
admire the wise measures nature has taken for the
accomplishment of her designs. In many, the scattering
of the pollen is effected by the winds ; to favour the
access of which we find in some, as the hazel, the leaves
are not evolved until after the seed has been perfected;
or, if the plants be evergreens, the leaves are needle-
shaped, so as to present very little obstacle to the pas-
sage of the pollen, which is secreted in much larger
quantity than usual. Various species of insects, and
especially the bee, are selected by nature for this pur-
pose. In the pink we observe numerous small insects
creeping to and fro, and thus depositing the pollen on
the stigma. In flowers where the stamens and pistils
are on different plants, often at a considerable distance

3»1

OHAMBEB813 IRTOBIIATION fOB THE PEOPLE.

from mch oiher, bcM, and othn flyliig icMoU, an
pwaliwly momwit to tio gtmA end of natui*. The»
iDMoti, it !• true, do not rint the flower for the purpoM
of icattering the pollen; they only leek for the iweet
juioe whioh exudei from iti nectAnr. Their hairr body,
which nature did not b<wtow without deaign, is Men
oorered with pollen, often in luch quantities at to im-
pede the proffreM of the animal; thif, whenerer they
Tisit another lower, is rubbed against the stigma; and
it is a ftot, no less wonderful than calculated to fill us
with admiration at the wise prorision of nature, that
many insects are peculiarly attached to one flower, and
that others, as the bee, will only risit one species in
each Journey from its hire.

The various methods whioh nature employs to dis-
perse the difl'erent Tarieties of seeds over the earth
are truly wonderful. Many plants, when the seed is
fully ripe, discharge it from its corering with a jerk or
elastic spring. The common oat is tluown out in this
way ; and the loud crackling of the pods of the broom
in a dry sunshiny day, or, as Orummond has it, ' burst-
ing seed-balls crackhng in the sun,' is caused by their
bursting and scattering about the contained seeds, and
must have been frequently noticed, * Who has not
listened,' again asks 8ir James Edward Smith, * in a
calm and sunny day, to the crackling of the furze bushes,
caused by the explosion of their elastic little pods ; or
watched the down of innumerable seeds floatmc on a
summer breeze till they are overtaken by a snower,
whidi, moistening their wings, stops their farther flight,
and at the same time accomplishes its final purpose,
by immediately promoting the germination of each seed
iu the moist earth! How little are children aware,
when they blow away the seeds of the dandelion, or
stick burs in sport upon each other's clothes, that they
are fulfilling one of the great ends of nature I ' These
downy appendages to which Sir J. £. Smith alludes,
buoy up the lighter seeds, as the thistles, and carry
them floating through the air to great distances. Then
there are the currents of rivers which bear the seeds
from one part of the country to another; and even seas
and oceans, whose tides and currents float along the
germs of vegetation to the various regions of the globe.
Birds, too, by feeding on particular seeds, cany them
to great distances, where, being often voided entire,
they vegetate. There is evident design in all this. It
could not have been by mere chance that in flowers
which stand erect, the pistil is shorter than the stamens,
permitting the pollen as it falls to descend upon the
stigma; and when the flower is drooping, that the con-
trary arrangement is efliected.

It is notnere out of place to remark, that there is
■carcely a vegetable production on which some species
of animal does not subsist; and, generally speaking,
wherever that peculiar production is to be found, there
also iy the animal to which it furnishes wholesome food.
With some striking examples of this kind the most
uneducated man is acquainted : he knows that the par-
tridge is on the plain, the woodcock in the forests, the
grouse on the moors, and the ptarmigan on the loftiest
peaks of the mountains. He knows, too, that other
species migrate from country to country, seeking their
food in distant regions, over trackless oceans, when it
fails in their native haunts ; and, among the animal
kingdom, so universal is this, as to form an example of
the wonderful adaptations which exist between it and
the vegetable world. Vegetables, like animals, are
adapted to varieties of climate and temperature; and
when we consider their distribution ove . the globe, we
■hall find that those which are most jseential to the
maintenance of man, bear a variety of climate better
than most others. This is the case with greens, carrots,
potatoes, and many kinds of grain. Warm climates
are much more favourable to vegetation than cold. In
Spitsbergen, the whole number of plants with conspi-
cuous flowers, natives of the country, is found by bota-
nists eeatoely to exceed thirty species; while in the
wanner regioni of the Weet Indies, in Madagascar and
ih« ooatt of Cor»iiiMid«l> Willdmow tattmetstes from
983

four to fire thoniand diilinmit ipeoicf of Indigenous
plants. Now obenrve how admirably thia distribution of
plants corresponds with the wftn^s and necessities of man.
A vegetable diet is most sui^ --^ both to the tastes and
the actual needs of th. li cants of warm climates,
and there we find that kii- .. food most abundant.

It is impossible for a re utinc individual to walk
beside a field of ^wing barley without beinc impressed '
with the conviction that, in the economy of this desorip>
tion of grain, the design of a Creator has been wonder-
fully manifested. An ear of barley differs from one of
wheat or oats. Each of the grains is furnished with a
long slender bristle or beard, which is prickly to the
touch, and seems to serve at a protection to the ear.
These bristles form a roof, if we may so call it, to carry
oflf the rain from tho ear, and yet, by their elegant dis-

ftosition, do not prevent the heat of the sun and the
ight from influencing the grain. And why should such
be the case with barley, whan the ears of wheat, oats,
jcc. do not possess any such protective process 1 Because
barley is a grain easily injured by wet, which, if not
carried off, would cause the ear to sprout even while on
the stalk, and consequently be entirely useless to man.

In speaking'of the economy of vegetable life, it should
not pass unnoticed that there is a remarkable instance
of Creative Wisdom in the means which have been
arranged for the growth of plants from putrescent
matter. All kinds of vegetable and animal substances,
when deprived of life, as well as excrementitious matter,
have a tendency to decomposition — that is, to resolve
themselves into those elementary gases of which they
have been chiefly composed. This process of dissolu-
tion, as every one knows, produces a most disagreeable
odour, which is often inimical to animal life. But this
is not an evil ; it displays a bountiful provision in nature ;
for it tells us, in a way not to be misunderstood, that
the substance undergoing, or about to undergo, the
putrefactive process, should be buried underground;
and being there deposited, it immediately proceeds to
supply its no longer useful gases to the mfant plants
and crops of grain which flourish on the surface. Thus
do we see another striking evidence of the harmonious
design which everjrwhere prevails between the animal
and the vegetable creation.

It has been said that a vegetable diet is preferred
by the inhabitants of warm countries: to tnem so-
briety is an easy virtue, and a happy consequence of
the climate. The people of northern regions, on the
contrary, are voracious from instinct and necessity.
They swallow enormous quantities of food, and prefer
those substances which in digestion produce the most
heat. Obliged to struggle incessantly against the action
of cold, their life is but a continual act of resistance
to external influences. Let us not reproach them with
voracity, and their avidity for ardent spirits and fer>
mentecl liquors. Those nations which inhabit the con-
fines of thu h;ibitable world, in which man is scarcely
able to withstand the severity of the climate, the in'.io-
bitants of Kamtchatka, the Samoiedes, &c. live on
fish that, in the heaps in which they are piled up, have
already undergone a certain degree of putrefactive fer-
mentation. In them there is a nesessity for this inward
excitement, which in our climate would be inevitably
attended with disease, and probably death. The abuse
of spirituous liquors is fatal to the European transported
to the burning climate of the West Indies. The Rus-
sian drinks spirituous liquors with impunity, and lives
on to an advanced i>ige, amidst excesses under which an
inhabitant of the south of Europe would sink.

The influence of climste not only affects alike the
regimen of man in health, but of man in sickness; and
it lias been justly observed of medicine, that it ought
to vary according to the places in which it is practised.
A few substances, for the most part obtained from the
vegetable kingdom, sufficed to Hippocrates in the treat-
ment of diseases; and physicians who practise in a cli-
mate such as Oreece, may imitate the simplicity of the
father of medicine. Opium, bark, wine, apirits, aroma-
tic!, and the most powerful oordialt, are, on the other

KATUBAL THEOLOOT—BTHICS.

ndigenont
ibtttion of
imofman.
tanteiMid
I climatei,
ndant.

I to walk
impresied '
ii deiorip-
in wonder-
rom one of
lied with a
kly to the
to the ear.
it, to cany
legant dit-
in and the
hould such
rheat, oatB,

I I Because
lich, if not
9n while on
en to man.
e, it should
lie instance

hare been
putreKent
Bubetancei,
0U8 matter,
, to resolve
which they
of dissolU'
lisagreeable
i. But this
u in nature;
rstood, that
ndergo, the
iderpound ;
proceeds to
fant plants
face. Thus
harmonious
the animal

is preferred
) tnera so-
iquenc? of
ms, on the
necessity,
and prefer
!e the most
[t the action
resistance
them with
Its and fer-
lit the con-
is scarcely
), the in^ia-
c. live on
id up, have
ffactive fer-
(his inward
inevitably
The abuse
transported
The Rus-
, and lives
ir which an

alike the
Ikness; and
|at it ought
I practised,
from the
I the treat-
ise in a cli-
city of the
^ti, aroma-
the other

hand, the medif^M suited to the Inhabitants of
northern latitudes; and thus they are enabled to use
freely those medicines which elsewhere would be at-
tended with the utmost danger.

We are now prepared to understand the beautiful
and wonderful harmony that exists between the distri-
bution of man and plants over the globe; and no one,
we think, can deny their meed of praise and admira-
tion for the care and beneficence which this universal
adaptation exhibits. The frigid sone contains but few
species of plants, and the verdure of those countries
which lie within the polar circle is confined chiefly
to the hills having a southern aspect, and the trees
are of very diminutive growth. Besides mosses and
lichens, there exist ferns, creeping plants, and some
shrubs yielding berries of an agreeable flavour. The
arctic regions of Europe are peculiarly favoured ; for
in certain parts of Iiapland there are fine forests,
and even rye and leguminous plants are produced.
In the high latitudes of the nortnem temperate zone
are the pine and the fir, which show their adaptation
to a cold climate by retaining their verdure in the midst
of the regions of winter. To these, as advancing south-
ward, succeed the oak, the elm, the beech, the lime,
and other forest-trees. Several fruit-trees, among which
are the apple, the pear, the cherry, and the plum, grow
better in the northern half of this zone ; while to its
more southern parts, especially, belong the more deli-
cate fruits, such as the olive, the lemon, the orange,
and the iig; and among trees, the cedar, the cypress,
and the cork. The space comprised between the 30th
and the SOth parallels of latitude mav be considered
as the country of the vine and the mulbeny. Wheat
extends as far north as the 60;h degree; oats and barley
a few degrees fikrther. In the southern parts of this
zone, malce and rice are more commonly cultivated.
The vegetation of the torrid zone is characterised by a
richness, a variety, and a magnificence which are no-
where to be found in the regions of the globe. Under
the beams of a tropical sun, the most juicy fruits arrive
at perfection ; and innumerable productions supply the
wants, and ardminister to the luxuries of man. There
the grounds yield the sugar-cane, the cofiee-tree, the
palm, the pine-apple, the cotton-tree, the bread-tree,
the pisang, the immense baobab, the date, the cocoa,
the vanilla, the cinnamon, the nutmeg, the pepper, the
camphor, and numerous other fruits and aromatics.

CONCLUBIOir.

But we must hasten to conclude our interesting sub-
ject. Illustrations of design might be produced from
the works of nature without end; every link in the
chain of creation teems with proofs of it ; in none can
any one afiirm with truth that it is wanting. Cursory
OS our remarks have been, they still must lead to the
general conclusion that not only design, but unity of
design, and identity of operation, pervade the works of
nature, in as far as relates to organised existences; and
even among those portions of creation which are not
organic, there do we find the same evident desire and
design to render them subservient to the wants and
necessities of those which are. To several of these we
have alluded, though it did not accord with our plan to
allude to all ; and we need only further draw attention
to the remarkable uniformity in the plan of creation.
The universe itself is a system; each part depending
upon other parts, or being connected with other parts
by some common law of motion, or by the presence of
some common substance. One principle of craritation
causes a stone to drop towards the earth, and the moon
to wheel round it. One law of attraction carries all
the difi«rent planets round the sun. New countries
are continually discovered, but the old laws of nature
are always found in them — new plants perhaps, or
animals, but always in company with plants and ani-
mals which we already know, and always possessing
many of the same general properties. We never get
amongst such original or totally different modes of
existence, m to indic»t« thikt w« m« com* into the

province of a new Creator, or under the direction of a
difiitrent will. In truth, the same order of things attends
us wherever we go. There is everywhere a perfect uni-
formity in the taws which regulate the phenomena of
nature. And this very fact, while forcibly illttstrating
the unity of that Power by whose instrumentality all
that we see was ordered and originated, demonstrates
most strikingly at the same time the surpassing wis-
dom of the same creative Being. What agency, but
one endowed with omniscience, could have educed re-
sults so mighty from a few timple and uniform laws!
— could have instituted and set in action these laws at
the first, assured that, without change, or shadow of
change, they would fulfil to the last i^l the great ob-
jects connected with the progressive development of the
scheme of the universe! Thus all that we behold
around us, all that we can learn of nature, impresses
us with a sense at once of the unity, omniacience,
power, and goodness of the creative Being.

ETHICS.

' A knowledge of the great truth which we have at-
tempted to demonstrate, forms the foundation of Ethics,
or Moral Philosophy, which may be defined to be ' the
science which treats of our obligations and duties as
moral and responsible agents.' These duties it has
been customary to comprehend under three divisions —
the duties which we owe to Ood, to our fellow-creatures,
and to ourselves. It must not be supposed, however,
that these sevoral departments of duty, although
arranged under diflTerent heads, are in the slightest
degree opposed to one another. The very reverse
is the case. They all harmonise together; and he,
for example, who acts towards other men as he
would wish them to act towards himself, i^ords the
surest guarantee that he cherishes a due love and
veneration for the Supreme Being, and that he enter-
tains enlightened views regarding his own best interests;
whereas of him who neglects the duties of justice, bene-
volence, and mercy, it may be truly said that he ii
destitute of those feelings which he ought to cherish
towards the great Author of his being, and that he
neglects the means by which his own happiness may
be most eflfectually secured.

Considerable difference of opinion has existed regard-
ing what has been termed 'the moral sense' — the gene-
rality of moralists contending that it is a principle
implanted in us by the hand of naturs, while others
maintain that it is merely the result of cultivation
and experience. There can be very little doubt, we
apprehend, that the generally received opinion upon
this subject is the correct one ; for we cannot very
easily conceive how, by any amount of cultivation,
an important principle could be evolved out of a
nonentity, or how it could bo generated by the
most varied experience, had not the germ of it pre-
viously existed in the human constitution. The advo-
cates of the opposite opinion, however (among whom
must be reckoned a distinguished ornament of ethical
science, the soundness of whose moral principles at
least has never been called in question), have appa-
rently too much ground for the conclusion which
they have arrived at. We see many atrocious criminals
who seem to have cast off all moral restraint, and who
act in such a manner as if they were totally uncon-
scious of any distinction between right and wrong; and
there are whole tribes of the human family to be found
who appear to be immersed in such gross barbarism as
to be utterly incapable of comprehending any such dis-
tinction. But we must not infer that in either of these
cases the moral principle is altogether wanting. In
neither, it is true, is it properly developed : but in the
one case it is blunted and overborne by habits of law-
less depravity; and in the other it has never been able
to spring up into maturity, in consequence of the want
of some friendly hand to pluck up the weeds, and to
root out the briers which choke and impede its growth.
In neither cmw is it deftd : it only elcepeth; »nd by

88t

CHAUBEBSPS DTFOBMATION FOR THE PKOPLE.

the mplication of the proper remedy the reckleee ori-
luiuftl mftv be nwde an exemplMiy member of eociety,
Mid the unorant and untutored M^aM may become
acquainted with the bleMingi of civiliiation. No:
there ia no human beins. howefer immened in ij^o-
rance, howerer degraded b^ crime, who ii entirely
deroid of thii principle. Circumitanoei mav indeed
obeeure it for a time, but it can nerer be altogether
eztinfuished. Rtch the rudeit barbarian knowe that
there la a Being infinitely auperior to himaelf, to whom
he owea homage and allegiance, however imperfect
may be hia conceptiona of the character of that Being,
or of the nature of the allesiance which ia due to Him.
Thia ia aufficiently atteated by the fact, that in thoae
countriea where no rational ayatem of religion exiata, a
piultitude of auiieratitioua ceremoniea and obaerrancea
have been aubatituted in ita place.

But how doea eren civiliaed man arrive at the know-
ledge of moral relatione t The mere circumatance of
hia believing in the exiatence of an almighty, wiae,
and beneficent Being, who at firat created, and still
continuea to uphold, the world, doea not neceasarily
imply that he deema it hia duty to worship and to serve
that Being. Before he can be made aware of thia ne-
ceaaity, the moral aenae must be aroused; and this can
be eflfectuallpr done only by the cultivation and enlarge-
ment of hia mtellectual faculties. Before an individual
can rationally worship God, he must be conscious of
the relation m which he atanda to Him; he must feel
that Ood ia hia creator and preserver. By obaerving the
traces of deaign discernible in the material universe, he
ia neceaaaril^ led to conclude that it is the work of a
designing mmd; and when he discovers the admirable
adaptation of external nature to his own constitution,
phyaical, intellectual, and moral, the inference is un-
avoidable, that the same Being who created the one
alao formed the other. After he has been enabled to
arrive at this conclusion, the moral sense comes imme-
diately into exercise; and he will then feel it to be his
duty to love and obey the great Author of hia exiat-
ence, who haa made such bountiful provision for the
supply of hia wanta and for the gratification of his de-
sires. And the more he discovers of these wonderful
adaptations, the more will hia aense of the obligations
he is under to the Deity be increased, and conaequently
the greater will be hia ability to love and serve Him.
We could feel no aflfection for a Being on account of
hia having bestowed existence upon us, if mere exist-
ence had been the only circumstance for which we were
indebted to Him. He might have created us for the
express purpoae of rendering us miserable; and then,
according to the present constitution of our nature,
instead of being disposed to love and venerate a Being
ao malignant, we rauat unavoidably have regarded Him
with horror and detestation. The sense of benefits con-
ferred is an essential pre-requisite to the feeling of
gratitude; and it ia therefore evident that the untu-
tored savage cannot entertain such a lively degree of
thia feeling towards the Almi;^hty, oa the man of culti-
vated intellect, who can penetrate into the secrets of
nature, and trace out its adaptations to the necessities
of hia own complicated existence. The former may
indeed feel an emotion of gratitude to the ' Great
Spirit' for his success in war or in the chase, or for
those apontaneoua productiona of the earth which aup-
ply hia bodily wanta and contribute to hia animal gra-
tification ; but the man of cultivated toate can expe-
rience an exquisite enjoyment in contemplating the
beauties of creation, and can appreciate the Divine good-
ness in furnishing him with the means of such enjoy-
ment. And those phenomena of nature which terrify
the savage, and cause him to have recourse to the most
unmeaning ceremonies to avert the wrath of an angry
and aveajfing Spirit, are regarded by the philosopher aa
the procedure of a wise and beneficent Being, who makes
the elementa the miniatera of hia pleaaure, and sends
forth the temuest and whirlwind for the purpose of
clearing away those noxious ezhalatioua which engender
difeaae and death. We do not mean to affirm that the
W4

highly-cultivated theiat will actually be dispoaed to
cheriah towards the Deity deeper feelinga of veneration,
cratitudo, and love, than the rude illiterate barbarian;
but we have no heaitation in aaserting, that from hia
acquaintance with external nature, and ita nice adapta-
tions to the peculiar oonatitution of man, the former will
be rendered more capable of entertaining auch feelings
than the latter; and that the farther thia acquuntance
ia extended, the more will thia capability be incr^aed.
The aame accjuaiutance with external nature, and
with ita adaptation to hia own atate and circumatancea,
by which man acquirea a knowledge of the dutiea whi-Ji
he owea to God, teachea him also thoae dutiea which he
owes to himself and his fellow-creatures; and if he is
anxious to promote bis omi happiness, he will feel the
necessity of acting in conformity with the ayatem which
God haa appointw. The Deity could have had no other
end in view, in the formation of any of Hia oreaturea,
than the benevolent one of rendering them happy; and
He haa inatituted certain lawa, by an adherence to
which thia important purpoae will be most eflTectually
accomplished. Whenever, therefore, man acta in ac-
cordance with the appointment of the Supreme Ruler
of the universe, he fulfila the great end and object of
hia being, and conaequently will enjoy that happiness
of which his nature is susceptible; but when he acts
in opposition to that a]>pointment, he will necessarily
experience suffering and misery — for no institution of
the Deity can be violated with impunity.

But man ia not an isolated being : he is a member
of a great community of creatures of a nature aimilar
to his own ; and he feels that between them and him-
self there exists a mutual relation. Hence arises the
conception of that order of dutiea which ha owes to hia
fellow-creaturea. It is a part of the Divine plan that
all the raembera of the human race should live in har-
mony together; and in accordance with thia plan, it ia
neceaaary that each should do everything in his power
to promote the welfare of others, and that all should
practise those virtuea which are essential to the very
existence of civil society. Now were each individual
of the human family to be actuated solely by selfish
motives, and were all to neglect or violate, without
scruple, the virtues and duties of social life, then it is
evident that the order of society would be deranged,
the Divine plan for the happiness of the human race
would be defeated, and universal suflbring to indivi-
duals and communities would be the inevitable result.
By the faithful discharge of these duties, on the other
hand, the harmony and prosperity of mankind would
be promoted, individual happiness would benecured,
and the most acceptable homage would be rendered to
the Deity; who, having instituted certain lawa for the
guidance and regulation of His creatures, is gratified
or displeased with them in proportion as they observe
or violate His wise and beneficent appointments.

Thus we see that all the departments of man's duty
are inseparably connected together, and that the faitli-
ful discharge of one class of these duties naturally leads
to the performance of all the rest. And as a knowledge
of these duties, in as far as it is attainable by the un-
aided light of reason, is to be learned from a diligent
observation of the laws of nature, and of man's relation
to them, it is the duty of every iiuman being carefully
to study these laws, and to use his utmost endeavours
to bring hia conduct into conformity with them. Were
auch conduct to become uuiveraal, all atrife and ani-
inoaity would be brought to an end, the whole mem-
bera of the human family would be knit together iii
one common bond of brotherhood ; and that peace, pros-
perity, and happineaa which are only to be found in
the fabled deacnptiona of the Golden Age, would over-
spread and gladden the earth. Beyond this, Natural
Theology and Ethics, even in their highest and purest
conceptions, cannot lead : the causes which retard such
a consummation, the Divine scheme for their removal,
and a knowledge of man'a future destiny, belong to
religion aa revealed in the Biule — the hiatory uf
which forms the lubject of our loUowing number.

HISTORY OF THE BIBLE-CHRISTIANITY.

The Bible is the most remarkable work now in exist-
ence. In the libraries of the learned there are fre-
quently seen books of an extraordinary antiquity, and
curious and interesting from the nature of their con-
tents ; but none approach the Bible, taken in its
complete sense, in point of age ; while certainly no
production whatever has any pretension to rival it in
the dignity of composition, or the important nature of
the subjects treated of in its pages. The word Bible is
of Greek origin, and in signifying simply the Book, is
expressive of its superiority over ^1 other literary pro-
ductions. The origin and nature of this in everyway
singular work — how it was preserved during the most
remote ages, and how it became known to the modem
world in its present shape — form a highly-interesting
chapter of literary history.

OLD TESTAMENT.

The Bible comprehends the foundation of the re-
ligious belief of the Jews and Christians, and is divided
into two distinct portions, entitled the Old and New
Testament, the former being that which is esteemed
by the Jewish nation, but both being essential in
formiue the faith of the Christian. The Old Testament
is the largest department of the work, and appears a
collection of detached histories, moral essays, and pious
poetical compositions, all placed together in the order
of time, or as they may serve for the purpose of mutual
illustration. On taking a glance at the contents, the
principal subject of narration seems to be the history of
the Jews, commencing with an account of the creation
of the world, and tracing their history, genealogically,
through a series of striking vicissitudes and changes of
situation. But when we examine the narratives mi-
nutely, it is found that there is another meaning than
that of mere historical elucidation. It is perceived
that the whole train of events recorded, and the whole
of those lofty impassioned strains of poetry which dis-
tinguish the volume, are precursory and prophetic of a
great change which, at a future period, was to be
wrought on the moral character and fate of mankind,
by the coming to the earth of a Messiah.

The authorship of the Old Testament has been uni-
versally ascribed, by both Jews and Christians, to pious
men, who were inspired or influenced by God to com-
municate to the world a correct knowledge of the foun-
dations of religious belief and moral obligation. The
Dible is hence called the Revealed Word of God, or the
Sacred Scriptures. * We are to look to the Word of
Ciud, then,' says the writer of the article Theoloov in
the ' Edinburgh Encyclopeedia,' ' as contained in the
Scriptures of 4he Old and New Testaments, for the only
sure rule of faith and practice. But there is this singu-
larity in the Sacred Scriptures, that we do not find in
them a set treatise on any one of the interesting sub-
jects which engage our attention as moral and religious
l>eings. No attempt is made to prove the existence of a
Ood: such an attempt would have been entirely useless,
because the fact is universally admitted. The error of
men consisted not in denying a God, but in admitting
too many ; and one great object of Scripture is to de-
monstrate that there is but one. No metaphysical
arguments, however, are employed for this purpose.
The proof rests on facts recorded in the history of the
.Tews, from which it appears that they wore always vic-
torious and prosperous so long as they served Jehovah,
the name by which the Almighty made himself known
to them ; and uniformly unsuccessful when they re-
volted from him to servo other gods. What argument
could be so effectual to convince them that there was
no God in all the earth but the God of Israel ) The sove-
reignty and universal providence of the Lord Jehovah
No. 75.

are proved by predictions delivered by the Jewish pro*
phets, pointing out the fate of nations and of empiresj
specifying distinctly the cause of their rise, the dura-
tion of their power, and the reason of their decline;
thus demonstrating that one God ruled among the na-
tions, and made them the unconscious instruments of
promoting the purposes of His will.

The writers, generally speaking, do not reason, but
exhort and remonstrate; they do not attempt to fetter
the judgment by the subtleties of argument, but to
rouse the feelings by an appeal to palpable facts. But
though there is no regular treatise in the Scriptures on
any one branch of religious doctrine, yet all the mate-
rials of a regular system are there. The Word of God
contains the doctrines of religion in the same way as
the system of nature contains the elements of physical
science. In both cases the doctrines are deduced from
facts, which are not presented to us in any regular
order, and which must be separated and classified
before we can arrive at first principles, or attain to the
certainty of knowledge; and in both cases a consistent
system can only be made out by induction and inves-
tigation. The very circumstance of no detailed system
being given, renders it necessary to form one ; for
although a portion of religious and physical knowledge,
sufficient for the common puiposes of life, may be ob-
tained by traditional information, and men may work
conveniently enough by rules without possessing much
general knowledge, yet they who would teach with
profit, must generalise, and they who would explain
the ways of God, must arrange the materials which are
so ampl^ furnished, but which are presented appa-
rently without order or plan.'

The periods when the act of writing all or greater
part of the Scriptures took place, as well as most of the
names of those who were instrumental in forming the
work, have been ascertained with considerable accuracy,
both from written evidence in the narratives them-
selves, and from the well-preserved traditions of the
Jews. Generally speaking, it cannot be said that the
books of the Old Testament are of a less antiquity
than from two thousand three hundred to four thou-
sand years — an antiquity considerably greater than
that of any profane history. At whatever time, how-
ever, the different books were written, they were not
collected from the sacred depositories of the Jews,
where they had been carefully placed, till long after
their immediate authors weri deceased; and their pre-
sent arrangement, as we shall afterwards explain, is of
comparatively modem date.

From an early period it was the custom of the Jews
to divide the books of the Old Testament into three
classes, which they respectively designated the Law,
the Prophets, and the Hagiographa, or Uoly Writings,
which last division includes more particularly the
poetical parts; and some are of opinion that Jesus
Christ alludes to this division of the Scriptures, when
he says that ' All things must be fulfilled that were
written in the Law of Moses, and in the Prophets, and
in the Psalms, concerning him.' For by the book of
Pialms they understand all the books of the third class.
The Law comprehends the Pentateuch — that is. Genesis,
Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy — such
including both a historical narrative, and the injunc-
tions forming the legal co 'i of the Jews. The prophe-
tical books are eight — namoly, l.Jothua; 2. Judges, with
Biith; 3. Samuel; 4. Kings; 5. Isaiah; 6. Jeremiah; 7.
Ezckitl ; and 8. The Twelve Lesser Prophets, The first
four books of this division are called the Former Pro-
j phets, and the last four the Latter Prophets. The
I /Tagiograpf: I, or Holy Writings, are nine — namely,
i 1. Job; 2. The Psalms; 3. The Proverbs; 4. Eoclesiastes ;

3U5

OBAMBBBS^ ISVOBHATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

5. The Song <^S(Mgit «• Dmidi 7. ChmOehu 8. Btra,
withiMmiaA.-andS. ^<A#r. , ^ ,.,.

According to the order in which the boon of the Old
Testament now stand, those of a historical nature are
appropriately placed at the beginning. The first five
books, having a chain of connection throughout, are
Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deutero-
nomy, These are styled the i*eiito(«ticA, such being
the Greek compound for^ve botki. They are likewise
entitled the Books of Moses, from the belief that that
enlightened Jewish leader composed them.

The Jews, or Hebrews, take tho name of the sacred
books At>m the first word with which each begins ; but
the Greeks, whom our translators generally follow, take
the names from the subject-matter of them. Thus the
first book is called by the Hebrews BeruMth, which
tignifies In the beginning, this being the first word;
but the Greeks call it Oenesit, which signifies Produe.
tion, because the creation of the world is the first thing
of which it gives an account. It likewise contains an
account of tne increase of mankind; of their corruption
of manners, and its cause ; of their punishment bv the
Deluge; of the origin of the Jewish people from Abra-
ham; of the manner in which Ood was pleased to have
them governed; and particularly of the nature of the
apecial superintendence vouchsafed to the Jewish nation
by the Creator. This comprehensive narrative reaches
from the creation of the world till the death of Joseph,
or a period of 2369 years. (See CHRONOLOor.)

Sxodut, the title of the second book of Moses, signi-
fies in Greek The going <mt, and was applied from the
account which it gives of the Israelites going out of
Egypt. In it are related the cruel Egyptian slavery
under which the Jews groaned; their delivery by fiight
and a passage through the Red Sea; the history of the
establishment of their very peculiar law, and many
remarkable transactions; concluding with the building
of the Tabernacle, or place appropriated to the service
of the Divinity, This book comprises the history of
145 years, from the death of Joseph till the building of
the Tabema«;le. The Hebrews call it Veelle Shcmath —
that is, in English, Thete are the namea, which are the
words with which the book begins.

The third book of Moses is called Leviticus, because
it contains the laws which God commanded should be
observed by those of the tribe of Levi who ministered
at the altar. It treats at large of all the functions of
the Levites; of the ceremonial of religion; of the dif-
ferent sorts of sacrifices; of the distinction of clean
and unclean beasts ; of the difl«rent festivals ; and of
the year of jubilee, or continued holiday. It likewise
presents us with an account of what happened to the
Jews during the space of one month and a-half — that is,
from the time the Tabernacle was erected — which was
the fint day of the first month of the second year after
the Israelites came out of Egypt — till the second month
of the same year, when God commanded the people to
be numbered. The Hebrews call this book Vayiere —
that is. And he called, these being its first words; they
call it also the Law tff the Priests.

In the fourth book, which we call Numbers, Moses
numbers the Israelites, and that, too, in the beginning
of the book, which shows whence it had its name. The
Hebrews call it Vawedavber — thht in. And he make. This
book contains the nistory of til that passed from the
■econd month of the second year after the Israelites
came out of Egypt, till the beginning of the eleventh
month of the fortieth year — that is, it contains the his-
tory of thirty-nine years, or thereabouts. In it we have
also the history of the prophet Balaam, whom the king
of the Midianites brought to curse the people of Ood,
and who, on the contrary, heaped blessings upon the
Israelites, and foretold the coming of the Meniah, It
particularly mentions, also, the two-and-forty encamp-
ments of the Israelites in the wilderness.

The fifth book is called Deuteronomy, a Greek term,

which signifies The second law, or rather, ne repetition

qfthe into, because it does not contain a law different

from that whioh waa given on Mount Sinai: but it le-

886

peat! the same law, for the sake of the children of thoM
who had received it there, and had since died in the
Wildemesa. The Hebrews call it Ette^haddebarimr—tloA
is. These are the words. Deuteronomy begins with a
short account of what had passed in the wilderness, and
then Moses repeats what he had before commanded in
Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers, and admonishes the
people to be faithAil in keeping the commandments of
God, Afler this he relates what had happened from
the beginning of the eleventh month to the seventh day
of the twelftn month of the same year, which was the '
fortieth afler their leaving Egrpt, The discourse which
is at the beginning of this book was made to the people
by Moses on the first day of the eleventh month. Ac-
cording to the Jewish historian Josephus, Moses died
on the first day of the twelfth; and the Israelites, as the
Scripture says, mourned for him in the plains of Moab
thirty days, and consequently during the whole of the
twelfth month.

The Jews call the Pentateuch the Law, without
doubt because the law of God, which Moses received
on Mount Sinai, is the principal part of it ; and it is as
little to be doubted whether that great man was the
writer of the Pentateuch, This is expressly dnclared
both in Exodus and Deuteronomy, But as an account
of the death of Moses is given in the last eight verses
of this book, it is therefore thought that these verses
were added either by Joshua or Ezra, The opinion of
Josephus concerning them is very singular: he assumes
that Moses, finding his death approaching, and being
willing to prevent an error into which the veneration
the people had for him might cause the Jews to fall,
wrote his account himself; without which the Jews
would probably have supposed that God had taken him
away, like the patriarch Enoch.

After the death of Moses, Joshua, by Divine com-
mand, took upon himself the conducting of the Hebrew
people, and succeeded Moses, to whom he had been a
faithful servant, and by whom he had been instructed
in what he ought to do. It is uncertain whether the
book which contains the history of this successor of
Moses be called Joshua, fVom the subject of it, or from
his having been the writer of it. But it is certain that
it contains an account of what passed from the death of
Moses to that of Joshua, Nevertheless, there are seve-
ral things in it which did not come to pass till afler the
death of this great man, and which, consequently, could
not have been written by him. The common opinion
as to the length of time it contains is, that Joshua dis-
charged his office only for seventeen years, and that
therefore this book contains no more than the history
of that number of years.

After the death of Joshua, the Israelites were go-
verned by magistrates, who ruled under the general
designation of Judges; and the book which contains the
history of these rulers is called the Book of Judges.
This history begins with the death of Joshua, and
reaches to that of Samson, We here see the people of
God often enslaved in punishment of their crimes, and
often wonderfully delivered from slavery. Towards tho
end of it, we have some instanoes of this people's incli-
nation to idolatry, and of the corruption of their man-
ners, even before they had been brought into slavery.
Such are the histories of Micah, and of the Benjaminitos
who abused the Levite's wife. This book contains tho
history of about three hundred years.

During the time gf the government of Judges, there
was a great famine in the land of Israel, which forced
Elimelech, a native of Bethlehem, to retire into the land
of Moab, with his wife Naomi and two children, Eli-
melech died there, as also his two sons, who had married
two Moabitish women, one of whom was named Ruth.
Naomi, after the death of her husband and her children,
returned to Bethlehem, accompanied by Ruth, her
daughter-in-law, who was there married to Boaz, Eli-
melech's near relation, and the heir to his estate. The
book which contains this history is called the Book of
Buth. The beginning of it shows that it happened in
the time of the Judges, but under which of Uiem la not

mSTOBT OT THB BIBLH.

Irenof tboM
« died in the
«6arii» — that
«ffins with a
IdernesB, and
ommanded in
rmoniibei the
aandments of
ftppened from
e leventh day
vhich was the
iBcourse which

to the people

month. Ac-
8, Motei died
raelitef, as the
lains of Moab
9 whole of the

Lmu, without
iIoBCB received
it ; and it is as
b man was the
'essly dnclared
as an account
ist eight venes
lat these verses
The opinion of
ar: he assumes
ing, and being
the veneration
le Jews to fall,
hich the Jews
I had taken him

jy Divine com-

l of the Hebrew

he had been a

been instructed

ain whether the

lis successor of

of it, or from

is certain that

am the death of

there are seve-

iBB till after the

equently, could

ammon opinion

iiat Joshua dis-

ears, and that

lan the history

elites were go-
er the general
ch contains the
iook of Judges.
Joshua, and
the people of
eir crimes, and
, Towards the
people's incli-
of their man-
t into slavery,
e Benjaminites
jk contains the

P Judges, there
ll, which forced
I into the land
bhildren, Eli-
lio had married
I named Ruth.
I her children,
py Ruth, her
to Boaz, Ell-
is estate. The
the Book of
happened in
lof wem ia not

certainly known t Mm* place it in the time of Shamgar,
or of I>eborah. As to the writer of this book, some
think that the books of Judges and Ruth were both
written by Samuel; others attribute them to Hecekiah,
and others to Eara. Thu Jews place the book of Ruth
among the five books which they usually read on all
the festivals in the year. These five books are, the
Song of Songs, Ruth, the Lamentations of Jeremiah,
Eccfesiastes, and the book of Esther. In the Bibles
used by the Jews they are printed or written apart by
themselves, and ai« bound up together.

The four books following Ruth are called by the
Greeks, and also in some Latin Bibles, the Biitory of
the ReigM. Othen call them all the Booki <^ Kings,
because they give an account of the establishment of
the monarchy, and of the succession of the kings, who
reigned over the whole kingdom at first, and over the
kingdoms of Judah and Israel after its division. At
the beginning of these books is the historr of the
prophet Samuel, which gives light to that of the kings.
The Jews call the first two of these books the Books of
Samuel; perhaps because they contain the hutoiy of
the two kings who were both anointed by Samuel, and
because what is said of Saul in the first, and of David
in (A« second, proves the truth of Samuel's prophecies.
They give the name of the Books of Kings only to the
other two, which in the L-atin and French Bibles are
called the third vai fourth Books of Kings,

The Jira Book qf Kings, or the first of Samud, con-
tains the history of the nigh-priest Eli, of his successor
Samuel, and of Saul, and extends over a period of
nearly eighty years.

The second contains the reign of Dsvid, which is the
history of about forty years. It is commonly believed
that Samuel, Nathan, and Gad, were the writers of
these two books; and indeed they are called, in the
end of the first book of Chronicles, David's historians.

The third, or, according to the Hebrews, the first
Book of Kings, begins with a relation of the manner in
which Solomon came to the throne, and contains the
whole of his reign. After that, an account follows of
the division of the kingdom, and the history of four
kings of Judah and eight kings of Israel. AH these
reigns, including that of Solumou, which occupies the
first forty years, comprise the space of 126 years.

The fourth of these books contains the history of
sixteen kings of Judah and twelve kings of Israel; and
embraces a period of three hundred years. It likewise
gives an account of the prophets who lived during this
time. It is quite uncertam who were the writers of
the two last-mentioned books. They are by some at-
tributed to Jeremiah or Ezra, but no very convincing
proofs have been adduced in support of this opinion.
It is evident, indeed, that these books form a varied
collection of several particular histories.

The name of Paralipomena, which in Greek signifies
the history of things omitted, is given to the two books
which follow those of the Kings, These form, in fact,
a supplement, containing what had been omitted in the
JPentateuch, and the books of Joshua, Judges, and Kings ;
or rather they contain a fuller description of some things
which had been therein only briefly related. Some
give them the name of Chronicles, because they are
very exact in mentioning the time when every trans-
action happened. We divide them into two books, as
do also the Jews, who call them Dibere HayaKiim — that
is, a Historical Journal, the matters of which they treat
having been taken from the Journals of the Kings.
In the original language, however, the word dat/s often
signifies years, and in this sense we may understand
the term to signify properly Annals. The generally
received opinion is, that Ezra was the compiler of these.
In iho first book, he begins with a succinct historical
abridgment, from the creation of Adam to the return
of the Jews from their captivity; and then he resumes
the history of David, and carries it on to the consecra-
tion of Solomon — that is, down to the year before Christ
1015. The history contained in the second hook reaches
down to the year before Christ 636, when, upon the

expiration of the wrenty yean of the eaptiTitj, Cyn»
gave the Jews leave to return to their own country.

Ezra wrote the history of the return of the Jews from
the captivity of Babylon into Judea. It is the history
of about eighty-two years, from the year of the world
3468, when Cyrus became master of the Eastern Empire
by the death of his father Cambvses in Persia, and hii
father-in-law Cyaxeres in Media, to the year S650,
which was the twentieth year of the reign of Artaxerxes,
sumamed Longimanus. This book bean the name of
Ezra, who was the writer of it.

The next book is a continuation of that of Ezra, and
therefore it is by some called the second book of Etra.
It was Nehemiah, however, whose name it also bean,
who wrote it, as is said, by the advice of Ezra. It con-
tains the account of the re-establishment of Jerusalem,
and of the Temple, and the worship of Ood. It is be-
lieved by some commentaton to embrace the history of
about thirty-one years; but its chronology is, on the
whole, exceedingly uncertain.

After this general history of the Jews, follow two
histories of particular persons — namely, Esther and Job.
The fint contains the account of a miraculous deliver-
ance of the Jews, which was accomplished by meant
of the heroine named Esther. The history of Job ii
not only a narration of his actions, but contains also
the entire discourses which this pious man had with his
wife and his friends, and is indeed one of the most
eloquent and poetic b0'->ks in the Holy Scriptures. It
is uncertain who was the author.

Next to the historical books of Scripture follow those
of a moral nature. The first of these is the book of
Pialms, which are likewise in some measure historical;
for they recite the miracles which God had wrought,
and contain, as it were, an abridgment of all that had
been done for the Israelites, and that had happened to
them. The Hebrews call them the Book of Praises,
by which they mean, of die praises ef Ood. The word
jmJm is Greek, and properly signifies the sound of a
stringed instrument of music. The Hebrews sung the
psalms with difiTerent instruments. We make but one
book of them all, but the Hebrews divide them into
five parts, which all end with the words Amen, Amen.
Though the Psalms bear the name of David, yet they
were not all composed by him : some of them are more
ancient, and othen ate of a later date than his time;
some of them being ascribed to Moses, Samuel, and
Ezra. Speaking of the dedication of the second Temple,
Prideaux says, ' In this dedication, the 146th, the 147th,
and the 148th Psalms, seem to have been sung; for in
the Septuagint versions they are styled the Psalms of
Haggai and Zechariah, as if they had been composed
by them for this occasion; and this, no doubt, was from
some ancient tradition ; but in the original Hebrew,
these Psalms have no such title prefixed to them, neither
have they any other to contradict it.' It is not pro-
bable, however, that all those whose names they bear
were the actual authon of them: it is more likely
that these are only the names of those to whom they
were first g'ven to sing.

After the Psalms are the Proverbs, which are a col-
lection of ni 'ral sentences, of which Solomon was the
writer. This name is given them by the Greeks, but
the Hebrews call them Misle — that is. Parables, or
Comparisms} and the word may also signify Sentences,
or Maxims. It is a collection of precepts, proper for
every age and every condition of life.

The book which follows is also a meralone, and was
likewise composed by Solomon. The Greeks call it
Eoolesiastes, which answers to the name of Koheleth,
which it bean in the Hebrew. Both these words sig-
nify in our language a preacher, or one vho speaks m
an assembfff. In this book is given an admirable pic-
ture of the vanity of worldly expectations.

Among the moral books is nlso reckoned the Song of
Songs — that is to say, according to the Hebrew manner
of speaking, a moat exodlent song. It is an inspired
production of Solomon, in the iJlegorical form of an
fptfAofamMfR, oi' nuptial tong ngnmcant of the mar-

387

OHAMBEBS'S QWOBIUTION FOB TBB PEOPLB.

IMge knd fellowship betwMn Chrlit wd hii people ;
• It! majeitic rtyle,' says Browp, * ita power on men's
oonsoieuoes to promote holiness and purity, the har-
mony of its language with that of Christ's parables, and
of the book of Revelation ; the sincerity of the bride in
acknowledging her faults, and, in fine, its general re-
ception by the Jewish and Christian church, sufficiently
proTB its authenticity.'

In rtttard to the Prophets, it may be obserred that
mil the Old Testament is considered to be in substance
one continued propbecv of the coining of a Messiah;
so that all the books of which it consists are understood
to be in some sense prophetical. But this name is more
especially given to those books which were written by
persons who had a clearer knowledge of futurity, who
forewarned both kings and people of what would happen
to them, and who at the same time pointed out what
the Messiah was to accomplish, whom they who are
acknowledged to have been prophets had always in
view; and this is what ought most especially to be
taken notice of in their writings.

The prophecies bear the names of those to whom
they belong. Some learned men are of opinion that
the Prophets made abridgments of the discourses which
they had written, and fixed theiu up at the gates of the
Temple, that all the peo])le might read them ; and that
after this the ministers of the Temple might take them
away, and place them among the archives, which is the
reason why we have not the Prophecies in the order in
which they were written. But the interpreters of Scrip-
ture have long since laboure<l to restore that order ac-
cording to the course of their history.

The works of the Prophets are divided into two parts,
the first of which contains the Greater, and the second
the Leuer Prophets. This distinction of course does
not apply at all to the persons of the prophets, but only
to the bulk of their works. The Greater Prophet* are
Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, and Jeremiah. The LametUa-
tiotu of Jeremiah make a separate book by themselves,
containing that prophet's doscriptious of the destruc-
tion of the city of Jerusalem and of the captivity of the
Jewish people. The Letter Prophets are Hosea, Joel,
Amos, Obsbdiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahura, Habakkuk,
Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, and Madachi. Their
prophecies were formerly contained in a single volume,
which the Hebrews call Thereaser, which means Ticeive,
or the Booh of the Ticetve.

The dates of many of the prophecies are uncertain,
but the earliest of them was in the days of Uzziah, king
of Judah, and Jeroboam the Second, his contemporary,
king of Israel, about two hundred years before the
captivity, and not long after Joash had slain Zechariah,
the son of Jehoiada, in the court of the Temple. Hosea
was the first of the writing prophets ; and Joel, Amos,
and Obadioh, it appears, promulgated their prophecies
about the same time.

Isaiah began his remarkable prophecies a short time
afterwards; but his book is placed first, because it is the
largest of tliem all, and is more explicit respecting the
advent of Christ than any of the others. The language
of this eminent writer is exceedingly sublime and aflTect-
ing; so much so, that it has never been equalled by any
profane poet either in ancient or modern times. It is
impossible to read some of the chapters without being
struck by the force of the prophetic allusions to the
character and suflferings of the Messiah ; and in con-
sequence of these prevailing characteristics, the author
is ordinarily styled the Evangelical Prophet, and by
some of the ancients, a Fifth Evangelist. The Jews
say that the spirit of prophecy continued forty years
during the second Temple; and Malachi they call the
Seal of Prophecy, because in him the succession or
series of prophets broke off, and come to a period. The
book of Malachi, therefore, appropriately closes the
sacred record of the Old Testament.

By referring to our historical sketch of the Jewish
people (No. 5.5), it will be observed that the glory of
Israel vanished at the period of the conquest and cap-
tivity of the nation, about six hundie<l yean before
893

Chri As » conMuuenoe, though not an immediate
one, I-'.: <nsplred wrftingi of the Old Testament were
conclubcd soon after this event, or probably four hun-
dred years before the coming of the Messiah. Thus a
period of from four to five centuries elapsed from the
time when Malachi concluded his prophetic enuncia-
tions, till that in which the Evangelists penned the
books deKriptive of Christ's life and ministrations.

i NKW TKBTAMINT,

The second and lesser division of the Bible, as has
been said, lelates entirely to the Christian religion, or
the fulfilment of that which was predicted and prefigured
in the more ancient department of the work. This
division of the Sacred Scriptures is generally styled the
New Testament, or that which has been a later revela-
tion and bequest; that portion of it which relates to
the history of the life of Christ is called the G'ofM/,and
by some the Evangel, both these words having the same
meaning, and implying good news, or glad tidings, from
the circumstance that the narratives contain an account
of thinss which are to benefit mankind.

The New Testament, like the Old, is a compilation of
books written by difierent inspired individuals, and all
put together in a manner so as to exhibit a regular
account of the birth, actions, and death of Christ — the
doctrines he promulgated — and the prophecies regard-
ing the future state of the church which he founded.
The historical books are the four OoipeU and the Acts
qf the Apottles, all these being of the character of nar-
ratives of events; the doctriniu are the Epistles of Paul,
and some others; the prophetic book is the last, and is
called the Revelations or Apocalypse qf St John, having
been written by that apostle while he was in exile in
the island of Patmos.

The four Evangelists, or writers, are Matthew, Mark,
Luke, and John ; these having, as is generally believed,
been companions of Christ during his ministrations, and
therefore personally acquainted with his life and cha-
racter. Each of the four books is principally a repe-
tition of the history of Christ, yet ihey all possess a
difference of style, and each mentions some circum-
stances omitted by the others, so that the whole is
essential in making up a complete life of the Messiah.
These distinctions in the tone of the narratives, and
other peculiarities, are always considered as strong
circumstantial evidence in proof of their authenticity,
and of there having been no collusion on the part of
the writers. But mdeod the events they record are
detailed in so exceedingly simple and unaffected a
manner, that it is impossible to suppose that they were
written with a view to impose on the credulity of man-
kind. The veracity and actual belief of the Evangelists
themselves are placed beyond a doubt.

The first bo<^ is written by Matthew, who was by
birth a Jew, and exercised the profession of a publican
— that is, a collector of the public tax or assessment
imposed upon the Jewish people by their conquerors
the Romans. Matthew, who was also called by the
name of Levi, was one of the twelve apostles of Christ,
and he is said to have written his narrative from thirty
to forty years after the departure of his Master from
the earth. Many of the ancients say that he wrote it
in the Hebrew or Syriac language; but it is more pro-
bable that there were two originals — one in Hebrew,
and the other in Greek, the former written a.d. 37 or
38, and the latter a.d. 61; and that these were respec-
tively designed for the Hebrew and Gentile nations.

With regard to Mark, the writer of the second Gos-
pel, it may be observed that although Mark or Marcus
was a common Roman name, there is reason to believe
that this Evangelist was a Jew, who had changed his
original spoliation on being converted to the faith of
Christ. Jerome says, that after the writing of this
Gospel, he went into Egypt, and was the first that
preached the Gospel at Alexandria, where he founded a
church, to which he offered an example of holy living.

The Gospel of St Mark is much snorter than that of
Mfttthew, not giving so full an account of Christ's ser.,

HISTORY OP THE BIBLE.

m immedlata
iitammt were
bW four hun-
i)Jh. Thui a
^■ed from the
letio enuncia-
I penned the
iitrationi.

Bible, aa has
ui religion I or
and prefigured
I work. Thia
ally ityled the
a later revela-
lich relates to
(he 0mm/, and
ftving the lame
\d tidingt, from
lain an account

compilation of
iduafi, and all
libit a regular
of Christ — the
phecies regard-
;n he founded.
s and the Aals
aracter of nar-
Ipistles of Paul,
the last, and is
St John, having
ras in exile w

(atthew, Mark,

erally believed,

nistrations, and

8 life and cha-

ncipally a repe-

\j all possess a

some circum-

the whole is

the Messiah.

larratives, and

ired as strong

authenticity,

on the part of

hey record are

unaffected a

that they were

dulity of mau-

ihe Evangelists

r, who was by
1 of a publican
. or assessment
jir conquerors
called by the
sties of Christ,
ive from thirty
Master fktm
at he wrote it
t is more pro-
le in Hebrew,
ten A.D. 37 or
were respoc-
le nations.
~e second Gos-
:k or Marcus
tn to believe
changed his
the &ith of
'iting of this
the first that
he founded a.
holy living,
than that of
Christ's aer'.

motif a* that did, bttt insistine chiefly on his miracles ;
Mid in regard to these alio it Is very much a repetition
of what we have in Matthew, many remuksble circum-
stances being added to the incidents there related, but
not many new matters. There is a tradition that it was
first written in Latin, because it was written at Rome;
but this is generally thought to be without foundation,
and that it was written in Greek, as was St Paul's
Epistle to the Itomans, the Greek being the more uni-
versal language. The Gospel of Mark was written at
a somewhat later period than that of Matthew.

Luke, the name of the third Evangelist, is considered
by some to be a contraction of Lv/eihua ; and he is said
by St Jerome to have been bom at Antioch. Some
think that he was the only one of all the penmen of the
Scriptures that was not of the Israelites; that he was a
Jewish proselyte, and was converted to Christianity by
the ministry of St Paul at Antioch; and that, after the
coming of Paul into Macedonia, Luke was his constant
companion. He had employed li-mself in the stndv and
practice of physio; and hence Paul calls him Luke the
Moved Phytioian. It is deemed probable that Luke
wrote both his gospel and his narrative of the Aett qf
the Apoitlei at Rome, when he was theie a prisoner
with Paul, preaching in hit own hired houie — circum-
stances alluded to at the conclusion of the latter work.
If this be the case, Luke's Gospel may be dated about
thirty Tears after Christ's departure, or a.d. 63. Jerome
says that St Luke diud when he was eighty-four years
of age, and that he was never married. Dr Cave ob-
serves, that * his way and manner of writing are ac-
curate and exact, his style polite and elegant, sublime
and lofty, yet perspicuous; and that he expresses him-
self in a vein of purer Greek than is to be found in the
other writers of this holy history.' Thus he relates
several things more copiously than the other Evange-
lists, and thus he especially treats of those things which
relate to the priestly ofiSce of Christ.

The fourth Evangelist, John, was one of the sons of
Zebedee, a fisherman of Galilee, the brother of James,
one of the Twelve Apostles, and distinguished by the
honourable appellation of that disciph whom Jesue loved.
The ancients tell us that John lived longest of all the
Apostles, and was the only one of them that died a
natural death, all the rest suffering martvrdom. It
is now established that he wrote his Gospel about the
year 97 or 98, when he was of an extremely old age.
And it is believpd, on good authority, that he was
prevailed upon to undertake this important task by
the solicitations of the Christian teachers, in order to
counteract the mischievous effects produced by the doc-
trines of a sect, or rather of a' multitude of sects, who
were distinguibhod by the general denomination of
Gnostics, and w.^ose tenets were openly taught by
CerinthuB before the publication of this Gospel. In a
work like the present it would be entirely out of place
to enter into a minute account of the tenets of the
Gnostics; we may merely mention that the fundamen-
tal principle of their system was the inherent and incor-
rigible depravity of matter. In accordance with this
principle, they made a complete separation between
spiritual and material objects; maintaining that the
Supreme Being merely presided over the spirits who
had emanated from himself; and that an inferior being
created the world, and bestowed existence upon the
different grades of its inhabitants. They further held
that mankind were kept under the thraldom of matter,
but that a glorious messenger was to be sent, by the
compassion of the Supreme Being, for the purpose of
effecting their deliverance. The Christian Gnostics
believed that Christ was this messenger. In opposition
to this system John clearly teaches, that the Creator of
the world, and the Saviour of the human race, is one
and the same person, and declares in the plainest lan-
guage that this person is Christ.

After the Gospel, or History of Jesus Christ, follows
the history of what passed after his ascension, and was
transacted by the Apostles. The book, therefore, which
contains this history it called the Aottqfthe Apostles.

It is a history of the rising church for about the ipae*
of thirty years. It was written, as has been already
observed, by St Luke the Evangelist, when he was witn
St Paul at Home, during his imprisonment there. In
the end of the book he mentions particularly his being
with Paul in his dangerous voyage to Rome, when he
was carried thither a prisoner; and it is evident that he
was with him when, from his prison there, Paul wrote
his epistles to the Colossians and Philemon, for in both
of these Luke is named by him.

Next to this come the EpiitUt of St Paul, which u«
fourteen in number : one to the Romans ; two to the
Corinthians; one to the Galatians; one to the Epha-
sians; one to the Phiiippians; one to the Colossians;
two to the Thessalonians; two to Timothy; one to Titus;
one to Philemon ; and one to the Hebrews. They con»
tain that part of ecclesiastical history which immedi-
ately follows after what is related in the Acts. The
principal matter contained in them is the establishment
or confirmation of the doctrine which Jeaus Christ
taught his disciples. According as the difficulties which
raised disputes among the Christians, or the heresies
which sprang up in the church from the first age of it,
required, St Paul in these epistles clears up and proves
all matters of faith, and gives excellent rules for mora-
lity. His Epistles may be considered as a commentary
on the four books of the Gospel.

The Epistle to the Soman* is placed first, not because
of the priority of its date, but on account of its super-
lative excellence, it being one of the longest and fullest
of all, and perhaps also on account of the dignity of
the place to which it is addressed. It is gathered from
some passages in the Epistle, that it was written in the
year of Christ 56, from Corinth, while Paul made a
short stay there on his way to Troas. He was then
going up to Jerusalem with the money that was given
to the poor saints there; which is spoken of in the
fifteenth chapter of the Epistle.

The two Epistles to the Corinthians were written
about a year after that to the Romans — namely, a. d.
57 ; that to the Galatians, a. d. 56 ; to the Ephesiant.
A. D. 61 ; to the Phiiippians, a. d. 62; to the Colossians,
A. D. 62; two to the Thessalonians, a.d. 51 and 52; the
first to Timothy, a.d. 64; the second to Timothy, a.d. 66;
to Titus, A.v. 65; to Philemon, a.d, 62; and that to the
Hebrews, a. d. 62. From which chronology it appears
that the Epistles of St Paul are placed in the New
Testament rather according to the dignity of the cities
to which they were sent, than according to the order of
time in which they were written; for the Epistles to
the Thessalonians were those he wrote first, though
that to the Romans is placed before them. Inter-
preters are agreed that the last Epistle which he wrote
was the second to Timothy.

St Paul wrote to the churches of some particular
places, or to some particular persons; but the other
Epistles which follow his are called Catholic (that is,
universal), because, with the exception of the second
and third of St John, they were not addressed to any
particular church or individual, as his were, but to the
whole Christian Church in general. These Epistles are
— one of St James ; two of St Peter ; three of St John ;
and one of St Jude. The date of most of these Epistles
is extremely uncertain, but the most generally-received
chronology of them is as follows: — That of St James,
A. D. 61 ; of St Peter, a. d. 66 and 67 ; of St John, a. d. 80
and 90; of St Jude, a.d. 66.

It has sometimes occurred to the minds of well-
disposed persons, that it would have been better for
Christianity hod there never been any other record of
its origin and doctrines than the writings of Matthew,
Mark, Luke, and John. But however plain and 'satis-
factory the histories of these Evangelists may be, and
however little they admit of controversy, it may, on the
other hand, be observed, that the strong arguments and
illustrations brought forward in the Epistles by Paul
and others, were necessary, in order to combat the
sophistry of the Greeks apd the self-sufficient philoso-
phies of other nations. Paul, the chief of the Epistle

. 389

OHiMBERCni OffOBMlTION ffOB THB PEOPLB.

it*

«rtt«n, who b«oun* » ChrMiMi br oonrwilaii, attn
Chriit had depMt«d ft«in the ewth, ii th« gnat cham-
pion of th« flUth, and eipoMi, In itroug and p«npi-
eaoua lancnaf*, the hidden depraTitiea of the human
heart; m tnat, where the affecting diecourtei and nif-
feringi of the Meeiiah fail to oonrert and to convince,
the reaioning of tliii great writer ie calculated toiilenoe
and mibdue thoie who itubbomly reeiit the benignant
InJBueuoe of the Chriatian faith.

Booh, then, were the rarioui booki written to conTcy
io poiterity a faithAil account of Chriit'c life and mil-
•ion, and conae^uently of the religion which it waa his
purpose to inititute. It will have been observed that
the whole were inscribed within the fint century, and
gradually accumulated in the hands of the primitive
ohurch, as an imperishable basis on which the faith of
Chriitiaoi should be founded.

AUTaXMTICITT OF TUB SCRIFTOBn — AFOCBTPUA.

With respect to the authenticity of both the Old and
New Testament books, as generally received, we of
course look to the estimation in which they were
respectively held by those with whom they had been
deposited, and who unquestionably possessed the best
•Tidences of their credibility. The Jews, as is well
known, were most scrupulous in preserving entire the
works of their inspired writers, and in preventing the
intrusion of literal errors into the copies which were
from time to time transcribed. Of the fidelity of the
original text, there cannot, we think, be any reasonable
doubt; and although there are what are called various
readings, these are of an exceedingly unimportant cha-
racter. Referring to this subject, it is said by the
learned Dr Adam Clarke, ' that all the omissions of the
ancient manuscripts put together, would not counte-
nance the omission of any essential doctrine of the
Gospel, relative to faith or morals; and all the addi-
tions countenanced by tbe whole mass of manuscripts al-
ready collated, do not introduce a single point essential
either to faith and morals, beyond what may bo found in
the Complutensian or Klzevir editions.' Among other
means adopted by the .lews to preserve the integrity of
the Scri])tures, was that of noting and recording the
exact number of words, verses, points, and accents, in
each book. The duty of doing so was the province of
the Jewish doctors or learned men, called Masorites.
By these acute grammarians, all the verses of each book
and of each section were numbered, and the amouiit
placed at the end of each in numerical letters, or in
some symbolical word formed out of them; the middle
verse of each book was also marked, and even the very
letters wore numbered; and all this was done to pre-
serve the text from any alteration by either fraud or
negligence. For instance, Uereshith, or Genesis, is
marked as containing 1534 verses, and the middle one
is at — * And by thy sword thou shalt live' (xxvii. 40).
The lines are 4395 ; its columns are 43; and its chapters
50. The numl>er of its words is 27,713, and its letters
, ive 78,100. The Mosoritic notes, or Masorah, as the
work is called, contain also observations on the words
and letters of the verses; for instance, how many verses
end with the letter tamech ; how many there are in
which the iwme word is repeated twice or thrice; and
other remarks of a similar nature.

It seems now generally agreed upon that the Ma-
sorites of Tiberias, during the fourth century of the
Christian era, were the inventors of the system of the
votiel-poinU and accenU in the Hebrew Uible; and
although they multiplied them very unnecessarily, it
must be allowed that thuy were an improvement of
considerable importance (See BiDLioaaAPHv). From
the points we learn how the text was read in their
time, as we know they were guided in affixing them by
the mode of reading which then prevailed, and which
they supposed to have been traMlitionally conveyed
down from the sacred writers.

The respect which the Jews have uniformly paid to
the sacred booka hat bwn ftlmovt »Ui«d to iup«ntUi«&.
880

Th«y aro dinotod to b« writt«n upon pwohmmt, mad*
from the skin of a clean animal, and to b« tied together
with itringt of similar iubetanee, or sewn with goats'
hair which has been spun and prepared by a Jewess.
It must be likewise a Jew that writes the Law, and
they are extremely diligent and exact in it, because
the least fault profanes the book. Every skin of parch-
ment is to contain a certain number of colunms, which
are to be of a precise length and breadth, and to
contain a certain number of words. They ace to be
written with the purest ink, and no word is to be writ-
ten from memory ; it must be first orally pronounced
by the copyist. The name of God is directed to be
written with the utmost attention and devotion, and
the transcriber is to wash his pen before he inscribes
it on the parchment. If there should chance to be a
word with either a deficient or a redundant letter, or
should any of the prosaic part of the Old Testament
be written as verse, or vies v«r$A, the manuscript is
vitiated. No Hebrew manuscript with any illumination
is, on any account, admitted into a synagogue, although
private individuals are permitted to have them orna-
mented for their own use; but in the illustrations, the
resemblance of any animal denounced by the Jews as
unclean cannot be admitted. Among the modem Jews,
the Ik)ok of Esther, in particular, is frequently deco-
rated with rude figures of various kinds; but with re-
spect to this book, it must be observed, that owins to
its wanting the sacred name of God, it is not held in
such repute for holiness as the other books are. The
manuscripts for private use may be either upon parch-
ment, vellum, or paper, and of various sizes. ' There
is,' says Prideaux, ' in the church of St Dominic, in
Uononia, a copy of the Hebrew Scriptures, kept with a
great deal of care, which they pretend to be the origi-
nal copy, written by Ezra himself; and therefore it is
there valued at so high a rate, that great sums of money
have been borrowed Dy the Bononians upon the pawn
of it, and again repaid for its redemption. It is written
in a very fair character, upon a sort of leather, and
made up in a roll, accordmg to the ancient manner;
but its having the vowel-points annexed, and the writ-
ing being treu and fair, without any decay, both these
puticulars prove the novelty of that copy.'

To open and shut up the roll or book of the Law, to
hold it, and to raise and show it to the people, are three
offices which are sold, and bring in a great deal of
money. The skins on which the Law is written are
fastened to two rollers, whose ends jut out at the sides
beyond the skins, and are usually adorned with silver;
and it is by them that they hold the book when they
lift it up, and exhibit it to the congregation ; because
they are forbidden to touch the book itself with their
hands. All who are in the synagogue kiss it, and they
who are not near enough to reach it with their mouths,
touch the silken cover of it, and then kiss their hands,
and put the two fingers with which they touched it upon
their eyes, which they think preserves the sight. They
keep it in a cupboard, which supplies the place of the
ark of the covenant, and they therefore call this cup-
board Aran, which is the Hebrew name for the Ari ;
and this is always placed in the east end of the syna-
gogue. He who presides chooses any one whom he
pleases to read and explain the Scripture, which was a
mark of distinction, as we see in the thirteenth chapter
of the Acts, where we find the rulers qf the synagogtu de-
siring the apostles, when thcv were in the synagogues,
to make a discourse to the people. Ordinarily speaking,
a priest began, a Levitt read on, and at last one of the
people, whom the president chose, concluded. He who
reads stands upright, and is not sufl^red so much as to
lean against a wall. Before he begins, he says with a
loud voice, Jiless ye Ood, and the congregation answers,
Bkssed be thou, my Ood; blessed be thou for ever;
and when the lesson is ended, the book is rolled up, and
wrapped in a piece of silk.

Certain books, collectively termed the Apocrypha,
are sometimes included in the Bible, and of these it is
ntovNwy (9 giTO ft brief account. The term Apoofypha

BmOBT or TBB BIBLIt.

b (h—'k, tUmitying hUdtn or eoNMoM, and ii applied I
to thoN booVi whoM origin li unknown, or the authen-
ticity of which if either doubtful or abioiutely denied.
Some wrltere divide the lacred books into tliree olaarti
—the canonical, the eooleeiaetical, Mtd the apocryphal.
In the first they place thoM whose authority has never
been questioned in the catholic or universal church ;
in the second, those which wore not received at first,
but which were nevertheless read in the public assem-
blies, as books that were useful, though they never
Jilaced them upon the same footing of authority as the
brmeri and in the third, they placed the books which
were of no authority, which could not be made to appear
in public, but wore kept hidden, and were therefore
called upoervpkal — that Is, coneealtd, or such as could
not be used in public. * Let us lay aside those books
which have been called apocryphal,' says 8t Augustine,
* because their authors were not known to our fathers,
who have, by a constant and certain succession, trans-
mitted down to us the authority and truth of the Holy
Hcriptures. Though some things in these apocryphal
books are true, yet as there are in them multitudes of
others which are false, they are of no authority.'

The Apocrypha consists of fourlten books — namely,
JHrit ana Second Esdrat, Tobil, Judith, the rest of 'the
chapters of the book of Either, the Wiidom qf Solomon,
Sceluiaitious, Baruch, the Song of the Three Holy Chil-
dren, the Biitofj/ qf Susanna, the Slorjf qf Bel and the
Jhvgon, the Praf/er <\f Afanauet, and the Pint and
Second Book of tht Macaabeei. Biblical historians
assert that these books were of a later composition
than the other parts of Scripture, never existed in the
proper Hebrew tongue, and were at no time received
by the Jews as the writings of inspired men. It is the
general belief of such Scripture critics as have made
this subject their study, that the whole or greater part
of the Apocrypha, was written between the time of the
Babylonish captivity and tho appearing of Christ, and
by persons who had mixed with the Greeks and other
foreign nations. The apocryphal Looks, it is observed,
are never quoted in the New Testament, ov by the
Jewish writers Philo and Josephus ; and by the early
councils of the church they were formally excluded
from the canon. On these points, however, as is well
known, there exists a ereat difference of opinion — the
Roman Catholic Church viewing the apocryphal books
as canonical, and the Protestants entirely getting them
aside, or using them only as works of ordinary edifica-
tion, or for the light which they throw on tho phraseo-
logy of Scripture and the history and manners of the
East. With respect to the meaning and application
of the term canonical, we here append a note.*

* The meaning of tbls term will be gathered from the follow-
ing oiplanations in the Eitci/elop<tdia Americana (Converaations
lexicon) :— * The term canon (Orcek) aignlflea a measure, rule, or
standard ; thence canon is uied to denote the rule or standard of
primitive Christianity. The same term is employed to designate
the ooUection of books containing this rule— that is, the cano-
nical books of the Holy Soriptures which the church acknow-
ledgas. The canon of the books of the Old Testament, as drawn
up by the Jews In the fourth oenti'ry before Christ, receives in
this form equal respect among all Christians, because Christ and
Ui apostles have expressly appealed to them, and pronounced
them writings inspired by God. The apocryphal books of tho Old
Testament, whose oanonioal character the Jews did not acknow-
ledge, the Bastern [or Greek] Church has never received; but
the Western [or Roman] Church declared them canonical, in the
African Council, about the end of the fourth century.' What
foUows is said to be the explanation of a Catholio :— ' The Uoly
Scriptures are esteemed sacred by the Catholics, because the
ohurah has transmitted them from age to age as sacred, and
illustrative of reveUtlon, as far as any writings ran be. The
church has only declared what writings have been handed down
as of Divine origin. The catalogue of these Uoly Scriptures is the
canon ; the writings themnclves are called canonical books. In
this sense the Protestant Church has no canon: it rejects the
authority of aU traditions of the church. Hence, In order to be
consistent, it must leave every Protestant, on free investigation,
to deoUe what books he will regard as canonical. But the Bible,
the pUlat of the Fiotettant faith, is made up of separate canonical

While attempt* Ut« htm mad* to Intrude uneano^
nical books into th« authentic body of ancient Scripture,
the New Testament has been exposed to similar vitia-
tion. In the third and fourth centuries, there were
gospels forged by divers sects, and published, one under
the name of St Peter, another of St Thomas, another of
St Philip, ko. They were never owned, however, by the
church, nor was any credit given to them, as the learned
Dr Whitby shows; and ho gives this good reason why
we should adhere to records mitten at or near the
time of Christ — ' Because,' says he, ' whatever the pre-
tences of tradition may be, it is not sufficient to pre-
serve things with any certainty, as appears by experi-
ence. For whereas Christ said aud did many memorable
things which were not written, tradition has not pre*
served any one of them to us, but all is lost except
what was written ; and that therefore is what we must
abide by.'

What has been said of the integrity of the text of
the Old Testament, may be applied also to the New, in
as far as it may be charged with corruptions in conse-
quence of the nesliaence of transcribers. Though it
must be admitted that the Now Testament text, by
being more frequently transcribed than the Old, be-
came liable to a greater proportion of various read-
ings, originating from the mistakes of the transcribers,
yet this very circumstance was likewise a sure protec-
tion against wilful jwrvorsion or corruption ; for in
proportion as copies were multiplied, the difficulty of
effecting a ceneral corruption was increased. No such
system as that of the Masorites was ever adopted to
preserve the purity of the New Testament text ; but
we have it in our power to use various means for ascer-
taining what is the true reading of the text, without
having recourse to such a plan as that of the Masorah;
and Concordances, which are now brought to an uncom-
mon degree of perfection, are of great use in preserving
it from corruption. But the most satisfactory assur-
ance that the books of the New Testament have been
transmiUed to the present times in their original
purity, is to be found in the fact, that at a very early
period a great variety of sects sprung up, and have
continued to prevail, to a greater or less extent, in all
ages of the church. This circumstance, although in
many respects it is matter of regret, is yet attended
with this signal advantage, that it rendered any ma-
terial corruption of the oracles of Divine truth utterly
impossible. The adherents of these various sects re-
garded all who differed from them in a single article
of their religious creed with the utmost jealousy and

books I and by pursuing such a course, the basts of the Protestant
faith might be undermined. It bos been agreed, therefore, how-
ever inconsistently, to adopt the New Testament canon of the
Catholic Church. But in fixing tho canon of the Old Testament,
tho decisions of the Catholic Church have been rejected ; and
contrary to the African Councils and tho usage of the Romish
Church, established by the Council of Trent, part of Esther, also
Baruch, Tobit, Judith, Wisdom, Eccleeiasticus, or Jesus the Son
of Birach, the Two Books of Maccabees, the Bung of the Three
Youths In the Fiery Furnace, described in Daniel, together with
tho last two chapters of tbls prophet, ore thrown out as uncano-
nical or apocryphal. It is worthy of mention that a contro-
versy on tbls subject broke off the negotiations for a union of the
Catholic and Protestant Churches, which commenced in the be-
ginning of the eighteenth century between Leibnits, Holonus,
and Bossuet.' The above explanation is scarcely correct, as
respects the Protestant idea of the canon of Scripture. The
Church of England, for example, does not implicitly adopt the
Romvji Catholio canon : It founds its rule of faith on that which
is believed to have been tlie canon in the earliest centuries of
Christianity. ■ The Church of England, in determining the sense
of the Bible, listens with respect to the voice of the most ancient
fathers and doctors : and not only with respect, but even with
submission, where that voice is all but unanimous.'— £<y% </
Jeiee!. ■ The Council of Trent confirmed the decision of some
previous councils, by which the books of the Apocrypha were
declared to belong to the canon of the Old Testament ; contrary
to that of the Council of Laodioea, a. d. 364, which, by an express
canon, sanctioned the catalogue of the sacred books as received
by ProtestOBta'-^oHoA Condefe View <tf all BcUgiont.

8S1

GUAUBKRffB INPOKM ATION MR THE PEOPUL

Mipleloni Mitl vlth kll that uniMmly nuicour Mwl
Miiiuoil< y which lb«olocic»l ditputMiU, in all itfM Mid
oountriva, h»ve b«ta unlortuiMtaly loo pron* to iudulf;*;
Mid M ihty tJi pratondcd th»t thtir oonHioting fyiMnu
of b«l.<'f wen rouiuled on th« Ucrl|iturM, mi\y vi(i»lioii
of tha<e Mcftd buuki, in order (o uocoiniiiodota thain to
m pitrtioular ijrtlain, would at onoo have boon detaotod
Mid rxputad. Hut iiu luch detection ur eipoeure hw
•rer taken |il»oa. The conduot'tri of theoluvieal eon-
trotreniee bar* indeod often u'^^rruMi h^ih thoiuMlrte
and the cauM tbev eepouied, bf McribiuK vile inotivei
and unworthy conduct to thoM whoie tonete they were
attempting to overthrow; but they Itare never ven-
tured dirMtly to acouia them of vitiatiuj; the 8crip-
tuiee. The charge which they briuK againit their
opponent* ii| not that they have altered or corrupted
the Wo(d of Uod, but that they have put an erroneoui
interpretation upon it. Theie eectariau jealouiiee Mid
animotitiea, therefore, afford the itrongeet poeeible evi-
dence that the books of the New Teitanieut have con:
down to ui pure and uncorrupted, einoe any attvuin^ tu '
•iter their meaning, by the interpolation or omi« >< of
a lingle word, would most assuredly hav« h^u i)io<
claimed to the world by a host of watchfttl '■'id je .< >'i(
opponents. It need only be adJu<l, that >"i bare the
couMDt of tho Christian Church, ir all ar> i • I coun-
tries, to prove the fidelity of the New I ... it iterip-
tures ; and any variety occurrn g in the itaJiiigs in
modem timos can arise only itf heedlessness, or from
motive* of an improper kind.

With respect to the ere 'iliility, uii general grounds,
of the New Testament writi i, and that the books are
of that antiquitv usually assigned to them, thwo cannot
be any rcasonaole doubt ; in other words, the writers
wruie the books in perfect good faith, bvli' ving that
what they penned was trtie, and tLo vciy books are
those now bvfore us in the New Testament. On these
points an able divine remarkii — ' It must be esteemed
a strong circumstance in favour of the antiquity of the
New Testament, that on a subject in which the chances
of detection are so numerous, and where we can scarcely
advan.'o a single step in the narrative without the pos-
sibility of betraying our time by some mistaken allusion,
it stands distinguished from every later coinpositiun, in
being able to bear the most minute and intimate com-
parison with the contemporary historians of that period.
The Mgument derives great additional strength from
viewing the New Testament, not as one single perform-
ance, but as a collection of several performances. It
is the work of no less than eight different authors, who
wrote without any appearance of couc<*rt, who published
in different parts of the world, and whose writings pos-
sess every evidence, both internal and external, of being
independent productions. Had only one author ex-
hibited the same minute accuracy of allusion, it would
have been esteemed a wry strong evidence of his anti-
quity. But wbiM <re teis so *aany authors exhibitini;
such a well-su. .>u; a h .i^ alaiost unexpecte<l a<x;urary
through the whc?'» <r'' th'i'ir i :»'ied and ■'■ '' ' narra-
tives, it seem i 'i''''' . id the co. .aaion, that
they were eiti. : ^ e-M..'.es£«s of their own history,
or lived about vue period of its aocomplishnient.'

A minor point in the history of the Bible now re-
quires to be noticed. In the earliest times, the writings
of the Old Testament were divided into books and short
paragraphs equivalent to verses; but the division into
chapters and verses in which they now appear was of a
much later date. The separation of both the Old and
New Testament books into chi4>ters and verses is by
some writers ascribed to Arlott, a Tuscan monk, or
rather to Hugh Cardinalis, in the thirteenth century ;
while others allege that from the comments of Theo-
phylact on the Gospel, this must have been effected two
centuries earlier. The question is one of no great im-
portMice, and it is sufficient for tho purposes of general
knowledge to be informed that the division of the
Scriptures into chapters and verses was the work of a
Roman Catholic divine some tiu<i between the eleventh
and thirteenth centuries.
3S2

iioDRK.<« NisTOBV ov Tnintiu,r.

It will have been gathered from the pr«:i ling dstallt
that the books of the Old Testament wsr«' >fiiriuaUy
'ten in the Hebrew langua«*, that IM-Ing thv u,urf
lieu by the ancient Jewish peonli aiiii that lus
tx/oks were inscribed on rails or sliovu nf " t\iliy>
prepared parchment, and deposited only in the l»(ii|ilr,
or preserved in the hMids of the highr^r otficeri »f leli-
gioii. In this condition, and either in > - Hebrew or
Chaldaio tongue, they existed till traiisliiu:J Into the
Unguage of the (ireeas, under the name of the Heptua*
giiit. With respect to the exact period at which this
translation was eliected, history present* no unifonn
account. The t.-anslation is ordinarily assigned to
seventy Jewish elders or interpreters — and hence the
term S*ptH4tymt, which sigiiinss seventy — who were
einr loyr ! by the Egyptian ruler Ptolemy PhiladeU
|)' i< »« iumish a copy of the Scriptures in Greek, a
'* I . go ' ilh which he and his people were acquainted.
■^ ' 'T . . narration of this circumstance, which is
«» 'I to ii.i ■« occurred 277 years before the Christian
en, be cos .'"miable with credible history, it is at least
''^n that the trMislation called the Septua^inl
rv M effected by Jews skilled in the Greek tongue at
about tiie time specified, and it was afterwards hold
in Mgh esteem b^ the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem. It may
further be explamed that it was this Greek version of
i.hr Scriptures which was always quoted by our Saviour
and his apostles, whenever they made an appeal to the
Sacred Writings. With tho earliest organisation of the
Christian Church may be said to have commenced a
new era in the history of the Bible. The Old Testament
books, whether in the form of Hebrew, Chaldaic, or
Greek versions, were still cherished by the Hebrew

firiesthooU, as they are at this day ; but copies were
ikewise accessible to the early Christians, and by these
pious apostles and disciples they were treasured as the
prophetic testimony of God's eternal design for the
salvation of mankind, in the grand ev«Dt which hod
now actually occurred — the coming of Jesus Christ.

When the books of the New Testament were col-
lected and authenticated by the early fathers and other
members of the Christian Church, they were held in
equal esteem with those of the Old, and carefully pre-
served along with them. Though still in detached
manuscripts, they were generally in the Greek tongue;
but during the first three centuries of our era, Latin,
or the language of the Romans, came largely into use
in literature, and in the same manner as the modem
European languages in later times superseded the
Latin, so did the Latin supersede the Greek. Augus-
tine (born 354 — died 430) mentions that previous to
his time there exittetl a groat nurob<>r of Latin ver-
sions of the Scriptura.; writings. * We know those who
translated the Scriptures into Greek,'' says he, ' and the
number of them is not great; but the number of the
' atin translators is infinite. When the faith came to
be established, the Urst man who found a Greek copy,
notwithetanding the little knowledge he had of tho two
languages, boldly undertook a trauiilation of it.' From
another passagf of his writings it has been gvncrally
concluded that there was one particular version, called
' tho Italian,' in higher estimation than the rest,
and which w- tb» authorised version of the Roman
churches. Hi. we^ er tk^s may be, it is certain that the
Latin Church rcquirptl a version of the Scriptures
formed directly from the Hebrew, a* all the Latin
translations in existence at that time had been taken
from the srvE:«.Tv. Jerome, whu *a« the contemporary
of Augustine, ww in < ery r«>speot lost suited, of any of
the learned men uf that tiin», to th« task nf i>Sbcting a
new translation, which he aecuidlii^'lv undertook. lie
began by correcting some books ui the Uld TestMiieiit
in the Latin BibU, particularly thii version of the
Psalms, and marked those pnesages wherein any diffe-
rence existed between the Latin version, the Greek of
the Seventy, and the Hebrew original. He had early
applied himself to the study of tEe Hebrew language,

tllHTORT OF TRt BIBLff.

LB.

Kt lint <!•*»"•

»m- >,ri«iu»Uy
>\af th« toiifn*
Mid that the
t nf " l\llW-
lu »ho 1 jmU'I''.
olflcari of i '
1 '"• Habr«w m
■hitoJ into the
I of the Haptim-
i »t which tliil
nt« no uiiifonu
ly wwigned t«
-and heiioa th«
nty — who wert
leiny FhiladeU
rei ill Greek, »
rere acquainted,
itance, which it
re the Chriitiftn
ry, it ie at leMt
the Septuagiuk
jteeli tongue at
afterward! held
ruialem. It may
Ureek version of
1 by our Saviour
an appeal to the
{aniiation of the
re coniinenced a
e Old Testament
iw, Chaldaic, or
by the Hebrew
but couici were
uii, and by thoie
treasured m the
design for the
Dvttiit which had
Jesus Christ,
^ment were col-
rathen and other ^
ey were held in
id carefully pre-
;ill in detached
le Greek tongue;
our era, Latin,
largely into use
Ir at the modem
superseded the
lOreek. Augus-
ihat previous to
r of Latin ver-
Iknow those who
kys he, ' and the
number of the
je faith came to
[d a Greek copy,
had of the two
ion of it.' From
been ||«ncrally
version, called
Ithaii the rest,
of the Roman
jrtain that the
the Scripturet
all the Latin
lad been taken
le contemporary
luited, of any of
Ik (>r efibcting a
^udertook. He
[old Testament
version of the
.jin wiy diffe-
I, the Greek of
He had early
(lew language.

and at dtfrerenl periods had the aielstance of Ave
Jewish tsachers; he had access also to the works of
OriMD, who published what is called the Ihxapla- that
it, »e Hlble in lie different languaget. Kroni these he
must hare derived considerable assistance in the work
he undertook— that of translating into Latin all the
books of the Uld Testament, to which he added a eor-
rectml edition of the oomiuon version of the New.

The work ili'^' ascribed to Jerome (or 8t Jerome,
at he is ordiim called) received the name of the
Vutg«Ut, and buii. by Christians and Jews hat been
conMdered a faithr ;»nsiation. It wat sanctioned
the ('ounnil of t, since which time corrected

. iitioni have been pn ihed iruler the authority of
the I'ope Sextus V. anil -meut VIII. liv tlie lloman
Ci Hollo Church the Vulgate is held in the higheit
eii fm, and is reckoned equivali ' in val 'n to the
Sell tures in the original tongues.

This seems to us the most proper -ilaoe to n ice—
what must be clear to every one's coiup re hension- that
for the safe custody and veriti 'tion of '>• Script es,
from the period at which the '!W Tet racnt l>. ks
were colU- ed, we are iadebtui o the i. iroh, or '<
r -ak UKH plainly, that series <f ecclesii leal fui

' apostol

f'TP, W(

t laricH nhoae history is exteml I firom i
ti ''iti!. the present, Until the Uible, th
secured to the people by the greatt'rtt of all I. ''
apflic tions, the art of printini;, and in tli. >' >ct
placeil beyond the reach of ( vate interv< ur

•rror. I safety, as a record, wai dependent ui> .
Mid tti 'tion of the church; and for the faithi u
forman of that important service, no one sun .11
refuse u lue meed of thankfulness ami praise. a

motives i o doubt conscientious, man) who ha\ .
thr Bible in their hands may consider the chusu^
vaiaelest i atltution; but to thit incorporation are t ~
unquettioi >bly indebted for preserving the Script
through a(; ' of persecution and civil uproar. Fr
the era of . 'i^ustine and Jerome, wlien copies of .
tacred booki> ime into considerably greater request "
the scattered ranches of the church, trantorintt we«
effected by pn ats, and latterly by monks, with a dil
genco and accuracy which demand our utmost esteei.
and approbati' i. In the cells of monasteries, sur-
rounded by hor' cs of barbarous nobles and their serfs,
leaniing found efuge from oppression; and there, in
the darkest ages f European history, were humble and
pious ecclesiastic :i engaged, certainly from no worldly
consideration, in penning copy after copy of the Sacred
Writings, and beq leathing them as memorials of their
industry to future und more fortunate generations.

Both before and after the application of printing to
multiply copies of rhe Bible, translations, either direct
from the original tongues, or from the Greek versions,
were effected by almost every people to whom Chris-
tianity wat introduci>d. Thus copies of the Scriptures
in Arabic, Persian, S:lavonic, and other tongues, were
produced. One of the roost ancient of these is that
translated for the use "f the Armenian Christians in the
fifth or sixth century.* Portions of the Scriptures are

* ' For the more commodious comparison of ditflerent versions,
msny of them have been Mmetimcs Joined tofether. In his
eightfold Bible, Origen placed, in different columns, a Hebrew
copy, both in Hebrew and in Greek characters, with six dilferA: tt
Qraek versiow. £Uaa Butter, a Gaiman, about the sixteenth
century, putalishsd the New Testament in twelve langusfee—
namely, in Greek, Hebrew, Byriao, Latin, Italian, Spanish,
French, Oemian, Bohemian, English, Danish, Polish ; and the
whole Bible in Hebrew, Chsidaio, Greek, Latin, Qemum, and
a varied version. But the most esteemed coUeotions are those in
which the originals and ancient translations are ooi^Joined, such
as the Complutensian Bible, by Cardinal Ximenes, a Spaniard ;
the King of Spain's Bible, directed by Montanus, dec. ; the Paris
Bible, by Michael Jay, a French gentleman, in ten large folio
volumes, copies of which were published in Holland under ttie
name [or sanotlon] of Pope Alextoder VII. ; and that of Brian
VTslton, afterwards bishop of Chester. This last is the most
regular and valuable : It oontafais the Hebrew and Greek origi-
nals, with Montanus's Interlineary wsion ; the Chaldee para-
phiMss, the Septuagint, the Samaritan rentatenoh, the Byrhko

undentood to have been «.i«nsUt«4 intd AlitlA.f!;4»rHi,
toi use in the tirst British chnrohce, at earlr at the
sixth or seventh centuries; and the whole Bible wat
translate<l by lte«le, an eminent Homiah eecleeiattie, in
the beginning of the eighth century. The first Knglith
Bible we read of wat that translated by Wiekliffe, one
of the earliest Kngllsh refomiert, about the year 1 9fl0,
but never printed. The part of the Knglith Bible
tirst printed wat the New Tettanivnt, translate*! by
William Tlndal, assisted by Miles Cover.lale; it wat
printed abroad in X&'iH, but, giving offence to the
church, was bought up and bunit. 'In lAS'i, Tindal
and his associates flnlnhed the whole Bible except the
Ajmcrypha, and printed it abroad ; but while he wat
afterwards preparing for a second e<lition, he wat taken
up and burnt for heresy in Flanders. On Tindal'i
death, his work wot carried on by Coverdale and John
Rogers, superintendent of an Kngliih church in Ger>
many, and the first martyr in the reign of (jueen Manr,
v<^ translated the Apocrypha, and revised Tindal'i
translation, comparing it with the Hebrew, Greek,
Latin, and German, and adding prefaces and note!
fironi Luther's Bible. He dedicated tlu< whole to Henry
VIII. in lfi37, under the borrowed name of Thnmat
Matthews ; whencs this has been uHually called
yfatthtwx'a BibU. It was printed at ilamburg, and
cense obtained for publishing it in England by the
vour of Archbishop Cranmer and the Bishops Lati-
••r and Shaxton. The first Bible printe<l by autho-
V in England, and publicly set un in churches, was
same Tindal't version, revisea, compared with
t ui- Hebrew, and in many places amended, by Milet
Co erdale, afterwards bishop of Exeter, and examined
afi'^-r him by Archbishop Cranmer, who added a preface
to It; whence this wan ailed Crannur'a BibU. It wat
printed by Grafton, wiis of large size, and published in
1.^40; and, by a royal proclnraation, every parish wat
obliged to set one of the copies in its church, under
th<^ f>enaltv of forty shillings a month; yet, two year*
Kt , the bishops obtained its suppression by the king.
it was restored under Edward VI., suppressed again
iiider Queen Mary, and restored again in the first year
I' Queen Elixabeth, and a new edition of it given in
~>63. Some English exiles at Geneva in Queen Mary'i
i(;n — namely, Coverdale, Goodman, Gilbie, Sampson,
Ik, Whittingham, and Knox, effected a new transla-
Ti, printed there in 15G0 — the New Testament

Itii' <i? been printed in 1557 — hence called the (.inteva
tiii. containing the variations of readings, marginal
aniKiiations, &c. on account of which it was much
valued by the Puritan party in that and the following
reigns. Archbishop Parker resolved on a new transla-
tion for the public use of the church, and engaged the
bishops and other learned men to take each a share or
portion. These being afterwards joitied together, and
printed with short annotations in 1568, in Targe folio,
made what was afterwards called the Qrtat Englith
Bible, and commonly the Bishop's Bible. In 15U9 it
was also published in octavo, in a small, but fine black-
letter: and hero the chapters were divided into verses;
but without any breaks for them, in which the method
of the Geneva Bible was followed, which was the first
English ilible where any distinction of verses was made.
It was afterwards printed in large folio, with correc-
tions, and several prolegomena, in 1572: this is called
Matthew Parker's Bible. The initial letters of each
translator's name were put at the end of his part. _ The
archbishop oversaw, directed, examined, and finished
the whole. This translation was used in the churches

and Arabic Bibles, the Persian Pentateuch and Gospels, the
Ethiopio Psalms, Bong of Solomon, and New Testament, with
their respective Latin translations; together with the Lati
Vulgate, and a large volume of various readings, to which i,
ordinarily joined Castel's Heptaglot Lexicon— all included in
eight volumes folio.'— Brotm'f DiatUmani of (kt BtbU. Biblical
scholars are now greatly assisted in their studies by the pub-
lication of polyglot', editions of the Bible, containbig in pontUcl
columns versions in various ancient and modem la n gua g es.
The Greek word polpglott slgnUes ' many tongues.'

393

oHAUBEBsti jsronwaiGS fob the people.

for forty jttn, ihough the Qobat* Bible wm more
reftd in private houiei, being printed aboTe twenty
timei in as many yeare.'

Viiriou* editionf of the Biihop'i Biblo were printed
at London in black-letter at the beginning of the leren-
teenth eentuiy; but notwithitaudiug the care that had
been expended on it, the venion wae not very correct,
and its language was often far from elegant. To amend
these defioiencies, and to obtaiu a reall} excellent ver^
(ion, James I. ordered an entirely new translation,
which is that now in common use throughout Great
Britain. To effect this very important undertaking,
forty-teveu diitinguished scholars were appointed, and
divided into six classes. Ten at Westminster were to
translate to the end of 2d Kin^s; eight at Cambridge
were to finish the remaining hutorioal books and the
Hagiographa ; at Oxford, seven were engaged on the
Prophets, eight upon the four Qospels, the Acts of the
Apostles, and the Apocalypse i the Apocryphal books
were to be translated at Cambridge. Each individual
translated all the books allotted to his class; the whole
class then compared all the translations, and adopted the
readings agreed on by the majority. The book, thus
finished, was sent to each of the other classes. Three
years were consumed in this arduous duty of translating
and examining. Copies were then sent to London, one
from each of the above-named places. Here a com-
mittee of six, one from each class, reviewed the whole,
which was last of all revised by Dr Smith, and Dr
Billon, bishop of Winchester, Having received the
approbation of the king, himself no mean scholar, it
wa« printed in 1611. We are not informed by any
writer, whether the translation was effected from Hebrew
copies of the Old Testament or the Ckeek Septuogint,
or whether any transcriptions of the original manu-
scripts were consulted;* but it is allowed by all persons
competent to judge, that the version possesses extra-
ordinary merit, and is the most perfect ever produced.

CHRUTIANtTY— BISTORT OF THB CHURCH.

At the period of Christ's appearance on earth,t the
land of Judea had sunk to the condition of a Roman
province, and its people, the Jews, were in a condition
not only of civil, but great moral degradation. Their
religion, as appears from all history, bad degenerated
from its ancient and lofty char<M:ter, and existed only
as a system of empty external observances, in the hands
of a priesthood to the last degree corrupt. The loaders
of the people, and the chief priests, according to the
account of Josephus, were persons of protligaie manners,
who had purchased their places by bribes, or by acts of
iniquity, and who maintained their authority, in subor-
dination to the lioman civil power, by flagitious crimes.
The multitude, affected by the example of their supe-
riors, were not less corrupted in morals; and in a general
sense, it may be understood that the entire nation was
in a state of lamentable disorder. To aggravate the
distractions of the people, they were divided into a
variety of sects, who, in proportion as they neglected
the essentials of religious faith and practice, occupied
themselves in disputes respecting matters of inferior
concern. Uf these sects, three in a great measure
eclipsed the rest, both by the number of their adherents,
and also by the weight and authority which they
acquired: these were tlie Pharisees, the Sadducc;:, and
the Essenes. The chief diliereuce of opinion among

* Tlio moat ancient manuscript! of the Bible, in the original
Hebrew, arc to be found among the Jews in Spain (or were bo
some years sgo), but none of tbem is above seven or eight hundred
yean old : a manuHorlpt in the Ilodleion Library at Oxford ii
thought to be nven hundred yean old ; in the library of the
Vatloan at Rome thorn are manutoripte, we believe, of ports of
the Old and New Teetament which arc of oonaiderablc antiquity.
The ant edition of the entire Hebrew Hible was printed at Son-
cino in 14(i3 ! and the Breeoian edition of 140t was used by Luther
in making his Oemian translation.

t The torni Christ is from the OneV, and ligntflet <the
Anointed ; ' ilttttah, ftom the Usbrew, has the same msauiog. 1
894

there leading leoti regarded the interpretation to b«
put on the words in the Holy Scriptures; and none of
them seemed to have the interests of true piety at heart.
The best of the three was the Essenes, who discoun-
tenanced ostentation in religious offices, and inclined to
lives of secluded meditation. While the Jews, then,
were thus broken up into contending seots, and were
apparently in a state of profound ignorance of the true
pnnciples of religion, Jesus Christ appeared amongst
them, to execute his divine mission, which referred not
only to them, but the whole human race. In the writings
of the Evangelists we are furnished with so remarkably
precise an account of the birth and public ministrations
of Christ, as also of his death and passion, as to leave
nothing to be said here on the subject; and we pass on
to an enunciation of the principles which it was the
object of his mission to accomplish, and a historical
sketch of that universal society of believers, the church,
which he empowered to work out his designs.

Supposing Christianity, or the religion of Christ, to
be reducible to a single principle, it might be described
as a uniTersal truth adapted to all mankind, and of a
divine, all-uniting power — a principle of love and uni-
versal brotherhood, without respect of nation, age, rank,
colour of skin, or any other exterior circumstance; in
short, a system of faith and practice for the whole
human race. A religion to be so universally applicable
should necessarily embrace no tenet or observance
which required special localisation. Judaism required
a periodic visitation to the Temple at Jerusalem; Mo-
hammedanism requires the performance of pilgrimages
to certain cities in Arabia, also attention to forms only
suitable to the daily and seasonal influences of a warm
climate; Hindooism enjoins constant ablutions in the
Ganges, besides other local observances — all which
mark these religions as but referable to certain nations
and countries, and not compatible with modes of exist-
ence in all parts of the earth. Setting aside, for the
present, all other considerations, Christianity, by in-
cluding no obligation which could not be as well per-
formed in una part of the globe as another, or as well
in one age as another, is something very differeut from
religions either temporary or local in their character.
It is in this universal and eternal applicability, there-
fore, that we find one of the grandest features of the
religion of Christ.

The promulgation of the principle of universal bene-
volence and love — the antagonism of every evil or vio-
lent emotion — was, whatever may be said of it, new to
the Jewish people. True, they believed in one God,
the Creator of all things, and so far had just views of
the Source of religion ; they also possessed the com-
mandments of the Mosaic law; but when, on any occa-
sion, did they view the Gentile nations, or foreigners,
in any other light than as an inferior raco of mankind,
to whom their laws and usages had no sort of applica-
bility 1 Practically, their religion narrowed the affec-
tions, while Christianity wus all for widening them.
' The Greeks, besides developing the principle of the
beautiful in their works of art,' (we quote from the
article CiiuiSTUNiiir in the Encyclopaedia Americana),
' had laid the foundations of valuable sciences, appli-
cable to the business of life. The Romaas had estab-
lished the principles of law and political adminis-
tration, and proved their value by experience. These
scattered elements of moral and intellectual culti-
vation, insuflicieut in their disunited state to bring
about the true happiness and moral perfection of
man, in his social and individual capacity, were re-
fined, perfected, and combined, by Christianity, through
the law of a pure benevolence, the highest aim of which
is that of rendering men good and happy, like God,
and which finds, in the idea of a kingdom of heaven
upon earth, announced and realised by Christ, all the
means of executing its design. His religion supplied
what was wanting in these nations — a religious character
to the science of Greece, moral elevation to the legis-
lative spirit of Rome, liberty and light to the devotion
of the Jewii wd by iuculcfttiug th« precept of uoiTenal

OHBISTIANITT— HIBTORT OF THE OHtJROH.

fietation to be
»; and none of
a piety at heart
I, who discoun-
and inclined to
the Jews, then,
leots, and were
ance of the true
)eared amongBt
lich referred not

Inthewritinga
tt 80 remarkably
lie miulBtrationB
•ion, as to leave

and we pass on
rhich it was the
and a historical
vers, the church,
esigns.

;iou of Christ, to
ight be described
inkind, and of a
of love and uni-
lation, age, rank,
circumstance; in
« for the whole
srsally applicable
3t or observance
Judaism required

Jerusalem; Mo-
ce of pilgrimages
ion to forms only
uences of a warm

ablutions in the
inces — all which
to certain nations
bh modes of exist-
ing aside, for the
iristianity, by in-
^t be as well per-
inother, or as well

iry difFere-ut from
Ilk their character,
plicability, there-
]at features of the

of universal bene-
every evil or vio-
said of it, new to
Lved in one Qod,
[had just views of
bgsessed the oom-
Ihen, on anjr occa-
lans, or foreigners,
[raco of mankind,

sort of applica-
lirrowed the affec-

widening them,
principle of the

1 quote from the
jsdia Americana),
lie sciences, appli-
lomaas had estab-
}olitical admiuis-

[perience. These
hlellectual culti-
U state to bring
Iral perfection of
lapacity, were re-
listianity, through
Ihest aim of which
Ihappy, like God,
jgdom of heaven
,i)y Christ, all the
Ireligion supplied
^ligious character
ion to the legia-
\t to the devotion

)pt of UIUT«IMi

love of mankind, railed the narrow spirit of patriotism
to the extended fbelin^ of general philanthropy. Thus
the endeavours of ancient times after moral perfection
were directed and concentrated by Christianity, which
supplied at the same time a motive for diffusmg more
vridelv that light and those advantages which mystery
and the spirit of caste had formerly withheld from the
multitude. It conveyed the highest ideas, the most
important truths and principles, the purest laws of
mor»l life, to all ranks; it proved the possibility of
perfect virtue, through the example of its Founder; it
laid the foundation for the peace of the world, through
the doctrine of the reconciliation of men with God and
with each other; and directing their minds and hearts
towards Jesus, the Author and Finisher of their faith,
the crucified, arisen, and glorified Mediator between
heaven and earth, it taught them to discern the bene-
volent connection of the luture life with the present.'

Systems of chronology difiTer with regard to the year
of the crucifixion of the Saviour, some placing it in
A.D. 30, and others in a.d. 33. In either case, as is
known to the readers of the evangelical history, the
apostles and disciples who hod followed him while on
earth, began, shortly after his departure, those minis-
trations which they were commissioned to execute by
their divine Master, and which had for their object the
dissemination of the Gospel in all parts of the world.
It will be further recollected, that in consequence of
the defection and death of the traitor Judas, the apostles
were reduced to eleven in number — Peter, and Andrew
his brother; James the son of Zebedee, and John his
brother; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Mat-
thew; James the sou of Alpheus, and Jude his brother;
lastly, Simon the Canaanite. Afterwards, they elected
Matthias in place of Judas. The number, however, was
again reduced to eleven, by the murder of James, the
brother of John, by Herod (a.d. 44).

The first society or church established by the apostles
was at Jerusalem; and from all that can be learned, it
was on the most simple and unpretending scale, corre-
sponding to the nature of the religion which they pro-
fessed. One of Christ's most emphatic declarations
had been that ' his kingdom was not of this world;' by
which he signified that the Christian doctrines and
graces referred exclusively to the mental afiections,
were a business of the heart, not of outward show or
demonstration, and had in other respects no alliance
with civil dominion. The humble but mtrepid apostles,
therefore, in the course of their preaching and teaching
in Judea, and afterwards in other countries, took no
part in any design to subvert temporal governments,
or to bring them into contempt; neither did they seek
to ally themselves with civil rulers, but confined them-
selves in all places to their proper functions of calling
tinners to be converted to the faith of Jesus, comforting
those who mourned, animating the piety of the dejected,
and, in particular, assisting the poor and needy. Of the
forms of Christian worship in this infant state of the
church, little is known; and, indeed, it appears that
gome time elapsed before the converted, or at least the

fmpils to the apostolic teachers, forsook the forms en-
oined in the old Judaic mode of worship. According
to Mosheim, they ' held separate assemblies, in which
they were instructed by the apostles and elders, praye '
together, celebrated the Holy Supper in remembrance
of Christ, of his death and suiFerings, and the salvation
offered to mankind through him ; and at the conclusion
of these meetings, they testified their mutual love,
partly by their liberality to the poor, and partly by
sober and friendly repasts, which thence were called
feasts of charity. Among the virtues which distin-
guished the rising church in this its infancy, that of
beneficence to the poor and needy shone in the first
rank and with the brightest lustre. Having finished
their work at Jerusalem, tho apostles proceeded to other
nations, and travelled over a great part of the known
world, in a short time planting a vast number of
churches among the Gentiles. Several of these are
ifieutioued in the Sacred Writings, particularly in the

AeU of At Apottlea, though theie are undoubtedly bat
a small part of the churches which were founded, either
by the apostles themselves or by theii disoiplei under
their immediate direction.'

It is not our design to enter Into a formal detail of
what constituted the various points of belief and reli-
gious practice in this early age of the church. It will
be understood that there was at first no body of written
evidence answering as a fountain of doctrine and pre-
cept, such as we now possess in the collected books
of the New Testament; and that apostles, and those
who were raised up to assist them in their holy cause,
were accordingly thrown much more on their own re-
sources, and more dependent on God's inspiring power
to teadi and direct, than required to be the case in
more advanced times. To use the words of Mosheim—
' Among the first professors of Christianity there were
but few men of learning; few who had capacity enough
to insinuate into the minds of a gross and ignorant
multitude the knowledge of divine things. God, there-
fore, in his infinite wisdom, judged it necessary to raise
up, in many churches, extraordinary teachers, who were
to discourse in the public assemblies, upon the various
points of the Christian doctrine, and to treat with the
people, in the name of God, as guided by his direction,
and clothed with his authority. Such were the propAete
of the New Testament.' — (Rom, xiii. 6; Ist Cor. Jui.
28; xiv. 3-29; and Eph. iv. 11.)

Much as we desire to do so, it is impossible for ua to
pass over a circumstance in the history of these early
times, which has led to centuries of discord; we allude
to the early form of church government. We shall
allow a place to Mosheira's explanations on this subject.
* Neither Christ himself, nor his holy apostles, have
commanded anything clearly or expressly concerning
the external form of the church, and the precise method
according to which it should be governed. From this
we may infer that the regulation of this was in some
measure to be accommodated to the time, and left to the
wisdom and prudence of the chief rulers, both of the
s'.ate and of the church. If, however, it is true that
the apostles acted by Divine inspiration, and in confor-
mity with the commands of their blessed Master (and
this no Christian can call in question), then it follows
that that form of government which the primitive
churches borrowed from that of Jerusalem, the first
Christian assembly establiahe' by the apostles them-
selves, must be esteemed as of Divine institution. But
from this it would be wrong to conclude that such a
form is immutable, and ought to be invariably observed;
for this a great variety of events may render impoiiiiible.
In those early times, every Christian Church consisted
of the people, their leaders, and the ministers, or dea-
cons; and these, indeed, belong essentially to every
religious srciety. The people were undoubtedly the
first in authority; for the apostles showed, by their own
examp'e, that nothing of moment was to be carried on
or determined without the consent of the assembly, and
such a method of proceeding was both prudent and
necessary in those critical times.

It was therefore the assembly of the people which
chose their own rulers and teachers, or received them
by a free and authoritative consent, when recommended
by others. The same people rejected or confirmed bjr
their suffrages the laws that were proposed by their
rulers to the assembly, excommunicated profligate and
unworthy members of the church, restored the penitent
to their forfeited privileges, passed judgment upon the
different subjects of controversy and dissension that
arose in their community, examined and decided the
disputes which happened between the ciders and dea-
cons, and, in a word, exercised all that authority which
belongs to such as are invested with the sovereign
power. The people, indeed, had in some measure
purchased these privileges, by administering to the sup-
port of their rulers, ministers, and poor, and by offering
large and generous contributions, when the safety or
interests of the community rendered such contributions
uecenary. lu these supplies, each one bore a part

895

CHAMBEnffS INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

proportioned to hiicircamitances; and theTarioua gifts
which were thus brought into the public assemblies
were called ablatiout.

The rulers of the church were called either presbyters
or bishops, which two titles are in the New Testament
undoubtedly applied to the same order of men. These
were persons of eminent gravity, and such as had dis-
tinguished themselves by their superior sanctity and
merit. Their particular functions were not always the
game; for while some of them confined their labours to
the instruction of the people, others contributed in dif-
ferent ways to the edification of the church. Hence
the distinction between teaching and ruling presbyters
has been adopted by certain learned men. But if ever
this distinction existed, which I neither affirm nor deny,
it certainly did not continue long; since it is manifest
that St Paul requires that all bishops or presbyters be
qualified and ready to teach and instruct.

The church was undoubtedly provided from the
beginning with inferior ministers or deacons. No so-
ciety can be without its servants, and still less such
societies as those of the first Christians were. And it
appears not only probable, but evident, that the young
men, who carried away the dead bodies of Ananias and
Sapphira, were the subordinate ministers, or deacons of
the Church of Jerusalem, who attended the apostles to
execute their orders. All the other Christian churches
followed the example of that of Jerusalem in whatever
related to the choice and office of the deacons.

Such was the constitution of the Christian Church in
its infancy, when its assemblies were neither numerous
nor splendid. Three or four presbyters, men of re-
markable piety and wisdom, ruled these small congre-
gations in perfect harmony, nor did they stand in need
of any president or superior to maintain concord and
order where no dissensions were known. But the
number of the presbyters and deacons increasing with
that of the churches, and the sacred work of the minis-
try growing more painful and weighty by a number
of additional duties, these new circumstances required
new regulations. It was then judged necessary that
one man of distinguished gravity and wisdom should
preside in the council of presbyters, in order to distri-
bute among his colleagues their several tasks, and to be
a centre of union to the whole society. This person
was at first styled the cngel of the church to which he
belonged, but was afterwards distinguished by the name
of bishop, or inspector ; a name borrowed from the
Greek language, and expressing the principal part of
the episcopal function, which was to inspect and su-
perintend the afiairs of the church. It is highly
probable that the Church of Jerusalem, grown consi-
derably numerous, and deprived of the ministry of the
apostles, who were gone to instruct the other nations,
was the first which chose a president or bishop. And
it is no less probable that the other churches followed
by degrees such a respectable example. ... A bishop,
during the first and second centuries, was a person
who had the care of one Christian assembly, which at
that time was, generally speaking, small enough to
be contained in a private house. In this assembly he
acted, not so much with the authority of a master, as
with the zeal and diligence of a faithful servant. He
instructed the people, perfsrmed the several parts of
Divine worship, attended the sick, and inquired into
the circumstances and supplies of the poor. lie charged,
indeed, the presbyters with the perfonuance of those
duties and services which the multiplicity of his en-
gagements rendered it impossible for him to fulfil; but
had not the power to decide or enact anything without
the consent of the presbyters and people. And though
the episcopal office was both laborious and singulany
dangerous, yet its revenues were extremely small, since
the church ha<l no certain income, but depended on
the gifts or oblations of the multitude, which were no
doubt inconsiderable, and were, moreover, to be divided
between the bishops, presbyters, deacons, and poor.

The power and jurisdiction of the bishops were not
long confined to these narrow liiuits, but soon extended
396

themselves, and that bv the following means: — The
bishops who lived in the cities had, either by their
own ministry, or that of their presbyters, erected new
churches in the neighbouring towns and villages.
These churches, continuing under the inspection and
ministry of the bishops by whose labours and counsels
they had been engaged to embrace the Gospel, grew
imperceptibly into ecclesiastical provinces, which the
Greeks afterwards called dioceses. But as the bishop
of the city could not extend his labours and inspection
to all these churches in the country and in the villages,
he appointed certain sufiragans or deputies to govern
and to instruct these new societies ; and they were dis-
tinguished by the title of chorepiscopi — that is, country
bishops. This order held the middle rank between
bishops and presbyters, being inferior to the former,
and superior to the latter.

The churches in those early times were entirely in-
dependent ; none of them subject to any foreign juris-
diction, but each one governed by its own rulers and
its own laws. For though the churches founded by
the apostles had this particular deference shown them,
that they were consulted in difficult and doubtful cases,
yet they had no juridical authority, no sort of supre-
macy ov«r the others, nor the least right to enact laws
for them. Nothing, on the contrary, is more evident
than the perfect equalitv that reigned among the pri-
mitive churches ; nor does there even appear in this
first century the smallest trace of that association of
provincial churches from which councils and metro-
poKlans derive their origin. It was only in the second
century that the custom of holding councils commenced
in Greece, from whence it soon spread through the
other provinces.'

According to these explan9.tions, it would appear
that the earliest constitution of the church was exceed-
ingly simple, being in a great measure a confederacy of
separate and independent religious instructors; that it
gradually assumed the external features of Presby-
terianisni (equality of rank, but mutual jurisdiction);
and that finally, as Christianity spread, and the scat-
tered societies of believers required the supervision and
counsel of superiors, there arose a species of Episcopacy,
or superintendence by apostolic bishops. According to
others, the bishops exercised a superintendence from
the first, the earliest being the apostles; and it is rea-
sonable to suppose that some such superior directors,
exercising an authority in a spirit of pevfoct love, must
have bepp necessary for the sake of order and unifor-
mity of doctrine ; it is at the same time certain that,
whether in the capacity of equals or superiors, the
apostles and early bishops performed the office of ordi-
nary teachers of religion. The commissioning of minis-
ters of the gospel by ordination, or the symbol of laying
on of hands, appears to have existed from the earliest
ages of Christianity. The members of the church at
Antioch, founded by Paul and Barnabas, were the first
who received the name of Christians, having been pre-
viously ciUled Nazarenes, by way of derision.

From about the conclusion of the first till the sixth
century, there flourished a body of eminent men in
connection with the church, whose functions may be
said to have generally united those of a professor of
divinity and ethics with the pastoral office. These mo
known in Church History by the title of Fathers. They
were of two chief classes — Greek and Latin fathers —
and were alike distinguished for their erudition. The
most celebrated among the Greek fathers was Clement
of Alexandria (beginning of the second century), who
was the first who philosophised on Christianity; Origen,
at one time a pupil of Clement, celebrated for his
homilies and writings illustrative of the Scriptures ;
Eusebius, who wrote the first history of Christianity ;
Athanasius (296-373), bishop of Alexandria, and a
man of invincible courage under persecutions, whose
writings exerted a considerable influence on the Chris-
tian dogmas; and Chrysostom (344-407), an ascetic, the
most admired of the ancient orators. The most distin-
guished among the Latin fathers were— Tertullian,

CHIUSTIANITY-HISTORT OF THE CHURCH.

g means: — The
either by their
er», erected new
8 and Tillages,
i inspection and
urs and counsels
he Gospel, grew
Inces, which the
it as the bishop
rs and inspection
d in the villages,
iputies to goTem
id they were dis-
— that is, country
,le rank between
jr to the former,

were entirely in-
iny foreign juris-
g own rulers and
rches founded by
rence shown theia,
nd doubtful cases,
, no sort of supre-
ight to enact laws
', is more evident
3d among the pri-
en appear in this
that association of
\uncih and metro-
only in the second
ouncils commenced
pread through the

, it would appear
church was exceed-
ire a confederacy of
instructors; that it
eatures of Presby-
utual jurisdiction);
read, and the scat-
the supervision and
ecies of Episcopacy,
lops. According to
perintendence from
istles; and it is rea-
superior directors,
f pel feet love, must
f order and unifor-
e time certain that,
s or superiors, the
d the office of ordi-
nissioning of minis-
he symbol of laying
id from the earliest
•8 of the church at
pabas, were the first
3, having been pre-
l" derision.

J first till the sixth
tf eminent men in
£ functions may be
|e of a professor of
U oflice. These are
ieoi Fathers. They
Lid Latin fathers—
leir erudition. The
lathers was Clement
^ond century), who
lhristianity;Origen,
I celebrated for hia
of the Scriptures ;
Jiry of Christianity ;
[Alexandria, and a
{persecutions, whose
luence on the Chris-
|407). an ascetic, the
I. The most distin-
^ere— TertuUian,

bom about the middle of the second century, and a
writer of great originality; Augustine (354-430), a
man of persuasive eloquence, exalted piety, and a warm
eucourager of the monastic life; Ambrose (340-397),
bishop of Milan, an eminent orator, and famed for his
mild and humane character; and Jerome (331-420),
one of the most learned writers and able expounders
of the Scriptures, which, as formerly mentioned, he
translated into the Latin tongue.

In the course of the second and third centuries, the
history of the church is painfully disfigured by the
assumption of dominant powers by bishops; the division
of the clergy into subordinate ranks and ofiices ; the
increase of ceremonial observances, fasts, and festivals;
and, above all, differences of opinion among Christians
on matters of belief. One main cause of the variety of
opinion might be traced to the collateral influence of
the Grecian philosophies, particularly that of Plato.
Many converts had been educated in these philosophies,
and though Chriatiauised, they still retained the subtle
speculative notions implanted in their minds, as well as
divers pagan us^ge8. From disputing in the schools
of Athens on questions in metaphysics, they betook
themselves to controversies on the most abstruse points
of theology. From controversy, the disputants natu-
rally subsided into heresy and schism; and hence we
find, that while the Christian Church was on all sides
struggling against barbarous powers, it wai) itself torn
by intestine division. In this general sketch, we can
only mention that the leading sectaries at this period
were the Manichseans, Hieracites, Sabellians, and No-
vatians ; and in the fourth century the heresy of
Arius broke out, and produced incalculable injury.
Prior to this latter event, the external condition of the
church underwent an entire change.

For nearly three hundred years after the death of
Christ, the church, though gradually altering in inter-
nal organisation, doctrinal belief, and ritual observance,
was still an independent spiritual community, reposing
on the simple but glorious basis on which it had been
placed by its Divine Author, and in which condition it
may be said to have been invulnerable. The conversion
of Constantino the Roman Emperor in 321 (Sec No.
57), at once altered the primitive state of the church.
' Before that important period, some churches had been
liberally supported by the devotion and zeal of wealthy
individuals; but yet the situation of the clergy was in-
secure and contemptible in the eyes of the pagan world.
Afterwards they lived in princely splendour, honoured
and esteemed as the first rank of men in the empire.
Fonnerly, they had been sunk in the gloom of obscurity,
but row they basked in the broad sunshine of honour,
wealth, and imperial favour. To a person who con-
templates the aspect of the Roman Empire in that age,
a new world seeni8 to appear. The system of poly-
theism and idol worship which, from time immemorial,
had, by its pompous ceremonies and splendid festivals,
commanded the veneration of mankind, fell into disre-
pute ; and Christianity, which had so long been the
object of universal contempt, and frequently of cruel
persecution, at last triumphed over all opposition, and
became the established religion of the masters of the
world. The Roman Empire saw magnificent churches
erected for the worship of the crucified God, whose
name had been long despised, and the rites of the
Christian religion celebrated with a pomp and solemnity
equal, if not superior, to what had been displayed in the
pagan temples. A total revolution was taking place
in the texture of religious opinions and the combina-
tions of human ideas. What a scene would this have
appeared to a Christian of the apostolic age, or of that
which immediately succeeded it ! What would a Chris-
tian whose mind had been formed, whose religious ideas
had been modelled, bv the simple and disinterested
maxims of primitive Christianity, think, on seeing the
ministers of the humble and lowly Jesus display the
magnificence of sovereign princes! And what must have
been his reflections on contemplating a system oi 'anour
and emolument, set up by the professed followers of

one whose whole life was a continued scene of poverty
and sufferings, and whose preaching and practice were
entirely calculated to inspire all tnose wno embraced
his doctrine with a sovereign contempt for the things
of this world! In the reign of Constautine the church
was enriched ; but it evidently appears that the spirit
of genuine Christianity was in a great measure ex-
tinguished. Ecclesiastical history, which had hitherto
exhibited a horrible and sanguinary scene of the suffer-
ings of the church under pagan persecutors, then
began to display a not less disgusting view of the per-
secution of Christians by the hand of Christians, carried
on with a cruelty little short, in some instances, of that
which pagans had before exercised against them.'*

To extinguish, as far as possible, the heresy of Anus,
and allay other caures of schism, Constantine convoked
the celebrated Council of Nice (325), which consisted of
318 bishops, and other ecclesiastic)*, to the number o£
2048. After a session of two months, in which thei
emperor frequently assisted in person, the opinions of
Anus, which went to a denial of the divinity of Christ,
were condemned, the equality of the three Persons of
the Holy and Undivided Trinity was declared the true
doctrine, and being comprised in a form of belief
called the Nicene Creed, was published as the obligatory
and only orthodox creed of the Christian Church.t

The deliberations of the Council of Nice failed in their
main design, and the Arians, persecuted by the church,
dispersed themselves in distant nations, and there found
a safe retreat. This may be viewed as the first great
schism in the church, which henceforth consisted, not
in one, but in several distinct societies of believers. To
trace minutely the progress of the respective branching-
off communions, would lead ua considerably beyond our
limits; let it suffice to say, that in the fourth and fifth
centuries there were founded several important Eastera
Churches. The Armenian Church dates its commence-
ment from about the year 312. The Egyptian or Cop-
tic Church originated in a heresy in the fourth century;
and the Abyssinian Church shortly after branched off*
from it. The Syrian Church, in a similar manner, gave
origin to the Syro-Indian Church, which still exists in
Travancore and Cochin, and acknowledges as its head
the Patriarch of Autioch. It is likewise to the fourth
century that we must trace the origin of that great
schism which afterwards divided the church into the
Western or Roman Church, and the Eastern or Greek
Church. At this period, the bishop of Rome occupied
the first rank in the episcopal order, and on that ac-

* Bigland's Letters on History,

t The Nioene Creed, after receiving some subsequent additions,
stood as follows, and has for ages occupied a place in the church
service;—' I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of
heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible ; and in
one liord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of Qod, begotten of
his Father before all worlds: Ood of God, Light of Light, Very
Ood of Very God, being of one substance with the Father, by
whom all things were made ; who for us men, and for our salva-
tion, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy
Ghost of the Virgin Mary, and was made man, and was crucified
also for us under Pontius Pilate : He suffered and was buried, and
the third day he rose again according to the Scriptures, anA
ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the riglit handof the Father,
and he shall come again with glory to judge both the quick and
the dead ; whose kingdom shall have no end : and I believo in
the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proccedeth.
from the Father and the Son, who with the Father and the Son
together Is worshipped and glorified, who spake by the Prophets ;
and I believe one Catholio and Apostolic church ; I acknow-
ledge one baptism for the remission of sins ; and I look for the re-
surrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.'

With respect to the form of belief usually called the Apostlea*
Creed, it is believed to be of much less antiquity than the spostollo
age, but there is great obscurity as to its authorship. It also has
undergone alterations in the course of time. ' The third creed,
erroneously ascribed to Athanosius (who assisted at the Council
of Nice in .125), is atUrmed to have been privately drawn up
about ^iie middle of the fourth oontury ; and is retiected by all
the Protestant churches except the Anglican.'— </oriuA Coitder't

Vkw qfaU HtlijJioHt,

997

oHAMBnura iirvoBiCA,Tioir won tbh raoFLB.

count exerted a certain nuthorityoTer all other bithope
within the pale of the orthodox church. ' Conttantine,
bv removing the ieat of empire to Byzantium (Conetan-
tinople), niaed up in the bishop of thii new metropolie
a formidable riral to the Roman pontiiT. Accordingly,
in a council held at Constantinople, in the year 381, by
the authority of Theodosius the Great, the bishop of
that city was, during the absence of the bishop of Alex-
andria, and against the consent of the Roman prelate,
placed in the first rank after the bishop of Rome, and
consequently aboye those of Alexandria and Antioch,' —
(Motheim). The riralry and contentions of the bishops
of Rome and Constantinople which ensued from this
period, terminated in 1054 in a complete rupture.
Each power excommunicated the other, and henceforth
the Greek Church was entirely under the authority of
the Patriarch of Constantinople. The other branch of
tho church remained under the dominion of the Roman
pontiff, and is that which is known by the name of the
Roman Catholic Church.

Centuries before this latter event, the church, under
the generally recognised supremacy of the bishop of
Rome, had undergone the most extraordinary changes
of condition. The legal establishment of Christianity
as the religion of the state, and its consequent alliance
with civil power, gave it a new character. That this
authoritative recognition greatly aided in converting the
pagan world, there can be no manner of doubt; but un-
fortunately, as we have seen, the vrealth and authority
conferred on churchmen naturally introduced evils gross
in their nature; and in many respects the alliance
with the civil government did infinitely more harm
than good. Some writers aver that Christianity could
scarceyr have survived the dismemberment of the
Roman Empire and the barbarism that ensued through-
out the middle ages, unless fortified by civil power;
but this, we humbly submit, is but a timid view of the
Christian dispensation, which surely required no such
extraneous means oa support. It is a lamentable truth,
confirmed by every respectable historian, that the pro-
ceedings of Constantino (321), and afterwards of Theo-
dosius (390), in establishing Christianity as the religion
of the empire, laid the foundation of every species of
ecclesiastical abuse, and directly caused the decay of
that sublime but simple piety which was the ornament
of the apostolic times. It is to the arrangements conse-
quent oE (he alliance of the church with the civil power,
tnat we have also to trace the origin of that new feature
in ecclesiastical polity — the endowment of churches,
cathedrals, abbeys, monasteries, and other institutions,
with the functionaries belonging to them. But the most
extraordinary change, both in the internal and external
character of the church, was the excess of power which,
by the sanction of temporal princes, was accorded to
the bishops of Rome. From early times, the occupant
of the Roman primacy had been known under tho title
of paptu, a Greek word signifying father, and hence the
well-knowr terras papal and pope. The pope, aided by
his council, formed the head of the hierarchy, and acted
as a supreme magistrate in all religious matters what-
soever. From tnc possession of the spiritual supre-
macy, a plea was easily found ti> assume the right of
interfering in temporal concerns; and, as is known to
the readers of history, the pone was allowed to exercise
an almost unquestioned authority over the afikirs of
Christian princes for several centuries. It is at the
same time proper to remark that the lay and clerical
members of the church did not always agree in conced-
ing this excessive power to the popes; the right of
spiritual jurisdiction was not denied; but how fai-, and
in what manner, that of a temporal nature, without tho
express sanction of general councils, should be allowed,
formed a point of frequent debate, and we do not know
that Catholics have yet arrived at a uniformity of
opinion on tho subject.

Another serious abuse which crept into the eocleaias-
tical afi!air« of the church, was tite establishment of
monastic institutions — houses in which men secluded
themselves from the world, and engagtd themselves in ,

religious offices. The practice of living a» hermits, for
the purpose of religious meditation, existed before Chris-
tianity, and was only eniprafted upon it (in a regular
manner) about the beginnmg ot the fourth century ; and
in the course of the following hundred years, monasteries
greatly increased in num&r. In the sixth century,
the practice of taking vows of celibacy and rigid adhe-
rence to certain rules, was introduced by St Benedict;
from which period till the tenth century, monasteries
are generally allowed to have been dwellings of piety,
temperance, and the refuge of learning, driven to them
for shelter from the troubles of the times. In the
course of the tenth and eleventh centuries, the monas>
teries lost this valuable character. Idleness and luxunr
entered their walls, together with the vices of the world;
their superiors, named abbots or priors, appointed by lay
princes from among the nobility, set themselves above
the jurisdiction of the bishops; and in short, the whole
monastic system, including convents for female devotees
(nuns), became altogether corrupt. None of the reli-
gious orders rose to such eminence and power as the
Society of Jesus, or Jesuits, founded by Ignatius Loyola
(1491-1556), a Spaniard, and a man of great shrewd-
ness and enthusiasm. The society was sanctioned by
a bull (or ordinance) of Paul III. in 1560. Young men
of ability and peculiar energy of character were alone
admitted, and the trials of the novices were most severe.
In addition to the usual vows of poverty, chastity, and
implicit obedience to superiors, the members were bound
to go, unhesitatingly, and without recompense, whither-
soever the pope should send them, as missionaries for
the conversion of pagans and heretics, or for the service
of the church in any other way. This well-trained and
formidable corps of spiritual combatants long exerted
a powerful influence throughout Christendom, as well
as in heathen countries ; nut as general intelligence
advanced, they failed in their efforts ; in 1773 their
order was abolished by Clement XIV. ; and latterly
(though restored in 1814) they sunk into comparative
obscurity.

The many flagrant corruptions of the church began
to excite the attention of reflecting men in the four-
teenth century, and efibrts were on divers occasions
made by them to produce a reform, but without success.
The abuses chiefly complained of were the scandalous
lives of many of the clergy, particularly of the monastic
and mendicant orders, the gross superstitious reverence
generally paid to relics, the extravagant power of the
pope, and the sale of indulgences. The exhibition of
religious relics, with the view of exciting the piety of
believers, had degenerated into a system of pure im-
posture. ' The poor iiagments of mortality — a skull, a
bone, or the fragment of a bone, a tooth, or a tongue^
were either mounted or set, according to the size, in
gold and silver, deposited in costliest shrines of the finest
workmanship, and enriched with the most precious
gems. Churches soon began to vie with each other in
the number and variety of these imaginary treasures,
which were sources of real wealth to their possessors.
The instruments of our Lord's crucifixion were shown
(the spear and the cross having, so it was pretended,
been miraculously discovered), the clothes wherein he
was wrapt in infancy, the manger in which he was laid,
the vessels in which he converted water into wine at
the marriage feast, the bread which ho broke at the
Last Supper, his vesture for which the soldiers cast lots.
Such was the impudence of Romish fraud, that portions
were produced of the burning bush, of the manna which
fell in tho wilderness, of Moses's rod and Samson's
honeycomb, of l\3bit's fish, of the blessed Virgin's milk,
and of our Saviour's blood t ' — {Southey).

The ludicrous extent to which the exhibition of relics
was carried, and also the abstract claims of spiritual
supremacy by the pope, might have been tolerated for
some time longer; but the plenary power of selling im-
munities for transgressions roused the common sense of
mankind. Leo X., famous for his love of splendour, uom-
menoed this odious traffic. Martin Luther (I4'i3-I546),
a monk of the order of Augustine i& Germany, was

CHMSTIANITT— HIBSTORT OP THE OflUBOE.

; M hermits, for
led before Chrii<
it (in » regular
bh century; and
ars,monMteriei
, aizth century,
and rigid adhe-
by St Benedict ;
inr, monasteries
ellings of piety,
, driven to them
times. In the
ries, the monaa-
sneM and luxunr
ces of the world ;
appointed by lay
tiemselves above
short, the whole
r female devotees
4oue of the reli-
nd power as the
' Ignatius Loyola
of great shrewd-
as sanctioned by
60. Young men
racter were alone
were most severe,
rty, chastity, and
mbers were bound
•mpense, whither*
« missionaries for
or for the service
well-trained and
mts long exerted
stendom, as well
aeral intelligence
e; in 1773 their
lY. ; and latterly
into comparative

the church began
men in the four-
L divers occasions
tt without success,
re the scandalous
ly of the monastic
retitiouB reverence
;ant power of the
The exhibition of
iting the piety of
stem of pure im-
rtsJity — a skull, a
)th, or a tongufr—
ng to the size, in
brines of the finest
he moat precious
irith each other in
aginary treasures,
) their possessors,
ixion were shown

it was pretended,
lothes wherein he
vhich he was laid,
ater into wine at

he broke at the
_ soldiers cast lots,
raud, that portions
' the manna which
rod and Samson's
ised Virgin's milk,

ixhibition ef relics
ilaims of spiritual
been tolerated for
>w«r of selling Im-
I common sense of
of splendour, oom-
ither (14IJ3-1646},
iu Germany, was

■hocked with the efibcts of tht> mtem, as they appeared
in his congregation at Wittemberg. * By far the most
notable render of indulgences,' says D'Aubigne, * was
Tetsel, a Dominican, whose morals were on a par with
his impudence. This man had popular talents : he was
a ready, sonorous preacher; he was intimately ac-
quainted with the human heart; and these advantages,
joined to his dignity as prior of his order, pointed him
out as the fittest person to sell these indulgences. He
was accordingly made chief comniissioncr, and his suc-
cess at the diflerent towns he visited was prodigious.
From the pulpit he declared indulgences to be the most
sublime of Gk>d's favours ; they had saved more souls
than the efforts of all the apostles ; they would atone
for every sin, however heinous; they were effectual in
regard to fUture, no less than past transgressions; they
atoned for the dead no less than the living; and who-
ever suffered his relatives to remain in purgatory, when
a little money would release them, was guilty of the
worst crime. Hence a blow was struck at all repent-
ance : contrition of heart was out of the question, when
pardon could be obtained on terms so much easier.
The present recital would perhaps be disbelieved, if its
truth were not virtually admitted by contemporary
Roman Catholics. But good is often educed from evil;
and this preaching of indulgences was one of the chief
causes of the Reformation. There is reason to believe
that the whole system struck Luther with horror from
the very first ; and that, coupled with the impiety
which he had witnessed in the capital of Christendom,
it provoked his doubts as to the infallibility of the
papal authority. The effects of the indulgences were
every day before his eyes; and as one of the authorised
confessors of the people of Wittemberg, he perceived
them more clearly than other mon. While seated in
the tribunal of penance, he was amazed to hear what
crimes had been committed, and still more, that no
contrition was felt for them. He refused to absolve,
unless the criminals forsook their evil ways. They
showed him their letters of impunity: no matter; he
estimated these at their just value — namely, as so many
pieces of waste paper. Being dismissed without abso-
lution, and without admission to the sacraments, tho
deluded purchasers complained to Tetzel, who bellowed
and threatened; but Luther was undaunted: he openly
preached against the pernicious traffic; he attacked
the very foundation on which it rested; he denied the
power of pope or church to remit the guilt of sin;
and by his fomous propositions, as everybody knows,
rapidly produced the most gigantic change effected in
this world since the origin of Christianity.'

The preaching of Luther, in exposing the error of
indulgences, and calling in question various traditional
tenets and practices, speedily roused a large part of
Germany; and as no s)rmptom of relenting was shown
on the part of those in power, an extensive secession
from the Romish Church became unavoidable. The
year 1521 is to be regarded as the epoch of the Refor-
mation in Germany; and from this period it became a
political as well as religious movement — in a word, a
movement in favour of civil and religious freedom. In
consequence of a general protest bemg signed by the
reforming party against a decree of the Diet of Spires
in 1529, they received in 1541 the name oi Protestants.
Eleven years earlier, in 1530, a declaration of the prin-
ciples of the reformers, drawn up by Melancthon, was
presented to the emperor of Germany at a diet held at
Augsburg, and there solemnly read before the assembly:
this famous declaration is known in history as the Con-
fession of Augsburg. The Reformation spread from
country to country with singular rapidity: the ancient
church was deposed, and one of a reformed character
established in its place — in Switzerland and Geneva in
1535; in Sweden and Denmark in 1536; in England iu
1547; and in Scotland in 1560. In Austria, Italy,
Spain, Portugal, and France, the efforts of the re-
formers were less successful, and in these countries the
Roman Catholic Church has been establishedi or at
least popular, till the present day.

OONCLUDINO SUHMAST.

Christianity now exists, in one or other of its Tarioni
forms, in all civilised countries, and numbers, as is
believed, 261,000,000, out of 900,000,000, the entire
population of the globe. Although originating in Asia,
and flourishing for some time in the adjacent regions of
northern Africa (Church of Alexandria, for example),
it prevails only to a small extent in these continents,
and is principally confined to Europe and the countries
which have been peopled by European emigrants.
EveiywhePB it is the religion of civilised man, no other
creed or form of belief being at all suitable to an ad-
vanced intelligence, or so directly calculated to inspire
sentiments of refined piety, humanity, and justice. In
the hands of uninstructed, ambitious, imd intolerant
men, its history abounds in tho most odious crimes; but
latterly, as its professors have fallen under the influence
of a civilisation to which it has itself largely contributed,
and as the true principles of tho Gospel have been
better understood, our religion has not been outraged
by indecent excesses either at home or abroad; while, by
the earnest but unostentatious efforti of its supporters,
of various denominations, it has been made favourably
known in the most remote parts of the earth.

The forms in which Christianity is [.rofessed are
very numerous, but the whole are comprehended in
threfl leading systems— the Roman Catholic Church,
the Eastern Churches, and the Protestant or Reformed
Churches.* With but one exception, all acknowledge

* Roman Catholic Church.— The doctrines and ritual of this
body, as now professed, proximately rest in a great measure on
the decisions of the Council of Trent (terminated 1663). Accord-
ing to these decisions, the Romish creed embraces the folIowiDg
points:— An admission of apostolical and ecclesiastical tradi-
tions ; that tho Joly Scriptures form only a part of revelation,
and are to be interpreted only according to the sense in which
they are held by the church ; that there are seven saoramenti
necessary for the salvation of mankind, though not for every
one— baptism, confirmation, eucharist, penance, extreme unc-
tion, clerical orders, and matrimony; that in the mass thera is
offered a true, proper, and prapitiatory sacrifice for the living and
the dead ; and that In the holy sacrament of the eucharist, there
is really, truly, and substantially, the body and the blood, to-
gether with the soul and divinity, of Christ (transubstantiation).
that there is a place of purgation, or purgatory, into which souls
proceed after death ; that the saints, reigning together with
Christ, are to be honoured and invoked ; that they ofi'cr prayers
to God for us, and that their relics are to be had in veneration ;
that the images of Christ, of the Virgin Mary, and also of the
other saints, ought to be had and retained, and that due honour
and veneration are to be given to them ; that the power of indul-
gences was left by Christ to the church , and that the use (rf them
is most wholesome to tho Christian people ; that the Holy Ca-
tholic Apostolio Church is the mother of all churches, and that
out of the Catholic faith none can be saved. To these principal
matters of belief are added— the efficacy of prayers for the dead ;
auricular confession ; celibacy of the clergy ; the use of Latin in
tho public ministrations ; signing with the cross ; the rosaiy as
an implement of devotion, &c.

The Roman Catholic Church is an episcopacy, or government
by a hierarchy of bishops. The supreme control rests in the pope
and his council at Rome, and thence radiates a system of ma-
nagement, most complete and effective, over all parts of Chris-
tendom. The church includes three distinct orders of clergy-
bishops, priests, and deacons ; all others — such as cardinals
(popes expectant), archbishops, deans, vicars, &c.— belonging to
one or other of these classes. The church claims the mark of
true apotlolicit!/— that is, an unbroken line of descent from the
apostles and their Divine Master. The ordination of priests is
the engrafting of them into this apostolio line of sucoesrion.
Bishops alone ordain or communicate holy orders. In no church
is the ritual of public worship so highly adorned, or rendered
more imposing, by the dresses of the officiating priests, the wav-
ing of censers, crucifixes, pictures, images, and music. Although
celebrated in an unknown tongue, it is observable that the
public worship excites the greatest appearance of attention and
decorum, as well as all the outward demonstrations of piety.
The influencing of the devotional feeUngs is said to be the ol^ect
aimed at by the various outward insigalat the church (if we
understand the argument) bidding it to be of equal consequence
whether the heart Is touched, and feelings of pietjr end venera-

CBAMBEBS^.INFOBUATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

the doctrine of the Trinity, the f»ll of man, b»1v».
tion by the expiatory death of Christ, the reiurrec-
tion, and a state of final rewards and punishments.
Differences on other matters may be traced to two
distinct causes of controversy. — 1. Whether the rule
of faith and practice is absolutely confined to the
Holy Scriptures, or embraces a traditional revelation,
sanctioned by councils, and cherished by the church t
2. And who has the right to interpret the rule of faith

tlon >re excited, by the exhibition of a oruoiHz, or the preach-
ing of a wnnon. The Roman Catholic Church, though now
only a ramaant of its former aelf, is still the most numeroiu of
the varloua Christian bodies : it includes within its pale France,
Belgium, Poland, Italy, the Mediterranean lalanda, Spain, Por-
tugal, the greater part of the people of Auatria and Ireland ;
about a half of the Prussians and Swiss, and the inhabitants of
rorious German states ; large numbers In the South American
states and Mexico ; also a part of the population of the United
States, and nearly all the Lower Canadians ; and a considerable
number of the inhabitants of England and Scotland, besides
those of Inferior countries. Altogether, the number of Roman
Catholics Is said to amount to 130,000,000.

The Eatlern Church is divided into four leading communions,
and several of a subordinate rank :— 1. Tlie Constantinopolltan
or Orthodox Greek Church, comprising all who acknowledge the
supremacy of the Patriarch of Constantinople. 3. The Russian
Oreo<r Church, which prevails over Russia, and In virtue of an
ordinanceof Peter theOreat, in 1700, was constituted ihe national
church, having for its head the Russian emperor ; it i» governed
by a council at St Petersburg. 3. The Anti-Uyzantine or Mono-
pbysite Churches, which have renounced communion both with
the Constantinopolltan Church and Church of Rome, and differ
from both In dootkine and ritual: these churches include the
Syrian, Coptic, Abyssinian, Nestorian, Indo-Syrian, and Arme-
nian Christians. 4. The Greek and other Eastern churches,
including the Maronites in Syria, who are In communion with
the Church of Rome. The whole of these Eastern churches are
said to include 63,000,000 of members. Whatever bo their pecu-
liar differences, all recognise two sources of doctrine, the Holy
Scriptures and Tradition, and are hierarchical episcopates in
their form of government. The church service is in Greek.
* The rites and ceremonies of the Greek Church are exceedingly
numerous, trivial, and burdensome. In all the services except
the communion, prayers and adorations are offered to the Vir-
gin (styled the Panagia, all-holy), or to some of the multitudi-
nous saints of theGreek calendar, almost as often as to the Deity.
Every day in the year is consecrated to some saint, frequently
to more than one; and everyday of the week Is appropriated
in the church servioe to some pccidiar object of adoration.'—
Condcr. This church does not resist the circulation of the Scrip-
tures, and its clerfiy may be married men.

The Prolutant Churehtt ore either those which spilt off from
the Church of Rome at the Reformation, or others which have
since sprung from the reformed bodies. Protestantism owns two
fundamental principles— that the Bible contains the sole rule of
faith, and that it is the right of every one, without respect of per-
son, to judge of that rule with all the aids which Divine grace,
reason, and conscience, can Inspire. At the same time, It may
be noticed that generally in practice each church possesses cer-
tain standards of belief to which it is expected its members will
adhere. Rejecting traditional revelation, and the decrees of all
councils but those of an early date, I>rote8tants admit only two
■acraments— baptism and the Lord's Supper. They reject trsn-
substantiation and the sacrifice of the mass ; deny the lawfulness
of monastic vows, the holiness of celibacy, the merit of good
works, the virtue of indulgences, the invocation of saints; reject
the worship of Images, nuricular confession, extreme unction,
purgatory, prayers for the dead, and the spiritual authority of the
pope. Protestantism exists in three main divisions— Lutherans,
Armenians, and Calvlnlsts— each differing from the others in
certain points of faith and church govern lent ; but there are,
besides, innumerable sects which cannot 'je Included in these
bodiee— as, for example, Quakers, or the Society of Friends, who
reject tho lawfulness of clerical funciionories, and disapprove of
the sacraments and all ordinary forms of public worship— Bap-
tists, a numerous body, with recognised pastors, who possess a
very simple form of church government, repudiate infant bap-
tism, and maintain the necessity of the baptism or immersion of
adult believers— Moravians, a largo and unobtrusive body, who,
among other gooil qualities, dis|ilay extraordinary ardour in the
pmseoutinn of missionary labours— Methodists, a numerous body
in Kngland, chiefly distinguished for their devotional fervour,
the nformation of manners, t-ai the instruction (tf tho young in
400

— thu church or iudiriduali 1 On the exact determina-
tion of these points r«8ti a complex series of divisioni,
which at piMent appear to be a« far from settlement to
the mutual satisfaction of parties, as they were in the
sixteenth century ; and we may rationally conclude
that, humanly speaking, little or no advance to recon-
ciliation can bo effected till education has dispelled the
mists of prejudice, and enabled men to perceive and
judge of abstract matters more equably.

religious duties by means of Sunday schools— and Unitarians, an
intelligent and res|ioetable body, but differing widely in doctrine
from all other classes of Christians ; who maintain, as their name
im|>orts, the absolute unity of God, in opixwition to the doctrine
of the Trinity, acknowledge no fixed creed or standard of faith
except the Bible, and reject tho doctrines of original sin, the vica-
rious siAiriftoe of Christ, and tho eternity of future punishmenta
The total number of Protestants, of all churches and sects, is
believed to he about 61,000,000.

Protestantism is professed in two chief totmar-EpUcopaey, or
the government of the church by bishops, whose spiritual autho-
rity is derived from the apostles through the efticaoy of ordhiatlon,
both before and since the Reformation ; aiaiTrabntern, which
rejects a hierarahy of bishops, and admits only the government
of the church by a body of ministers all equal In rank. The body
called Iiwkpcndenli, or Congregationolists, only admit of each
church being governed by its own members, on a primitive and
simple model. At the head of the Protestant Episcopal churches
may jo placed the Church of England, whose doctrines are con-
tained in the well-known Thirty-Nine Articles and In tho Book
of Common Prayer. The Church of England has for its basis a
denial of the supremacy of the bishop of Rome, and rejects the
doctrine of purgatory, the doctrines concerning indulgenoes and
pardons, the worship or veneration of images and relics, the in-
vocation of saints, the sacraments of oonflrmation, penance,
orders, matrimony, and extreme miction, transubstantiation, and
the sacrifice of the mass. It retains confirmation as a religious
ceremonial, ordination to the priestly office, the sign of the cross
in baptism, burial service, kneeling at the communion, absolution
of the sick, the whole hierarchical routine of oflicials— bishops,
priests, deacons, prebends, archdeacons, rectors, vicars, lie, and
numerous fasts and festiviiln. In Its calendar (see No. 7tl)> affixed
to the Book of Common Prayer, there are retained the names of
about seventy saints of the middle ages, such as Hilary, Prlsca,
Valentine, Dunstan, &o. Practically, the church pays no atten-
tion to these, or to most of the authorised fasts, festivals, vigils,
dec. According to law, the reigning sovereign, whether a king or
queen, is head of the church, and has the appointment of its
bishops, who hold the dignity of spiritual peers, and are members
of the legislature. From its strict connection with the state, the
Church of England labours under the misfortune of possessing
no power in itself to amend its formularies, whi.:h consequently
remain what they were In the reign of Edward VI.; yet this great
disadvantage is felt to be comi>aratlvely unimportant, on account
of the extraordinary beauty and simplicity of the language of the
prayers and litanies, as well as the elementary nature of the whole
service, which admits of no alteration by officiating ministers.
[The Book of Common Prayer was prepared by order of Edward
VI., who issued a commission, consisting of thirteen English
divines, with Arehbisbop Cranmer at their head. The commis-
sion met at Windsor, May 1548, and drew up a Book of Common
Prayer, which was tpprored by convocation, and finally ratified
by an act of iwrlioment in tlie January following. This book,
which is substantially the same as our present Common Prayer
Book, was enjoined to be used for all divine oflnces, from the
Feast of Whitsunday 1549.] Both in the United States of Ame-
rica and In Scotland, there are EpiscoiMil communions deriving
ordination from the Church of England, and hav2ng the same
form of worship.

Prfiby'.erianitm is established in Scotland, Holland, and some
of the Swiss cantons, and exists to a large extent in North
America. Presbyterians generally follow the doctrines of John
Calvin, rejecting the use of crucifixes, the sign of the cross,
altars, liturgies, Jcc. and recognising no saints' days. Christmas
and Easter are recognised by Presbyterians in Holland, but not
by those in Scotland. The clergy, being equal in rank, are go-
verned by provincial and general courts, constituted from their
own body. ScotUmd possesses a numerous body of Presbyterian
dissentera or seocders from the establishment ; and latterly,
these have added to former causes of difference, by declaring
their hostility to all connection between Church and State ; and
that Christianity, as was tho case prior to the era of Constantino,
should be entirely independent of civil government, and its
ministers supported exclusively by voluntary contributions.

xMt determtna-
iea of divwioni,
im settlement to
they were in the
ionally conclude
Ivance to reoon-
has diipelled the
to perceive and

Huid UnltwlaM, »n
)g widely In Uootrine
inUin.M their name
iltlon to the doctrine
or tUmdard of faith
original »ln, the vlca-
futiire punishment*,
hurches and secto, U

onnt-EpUicopaey, or
»h090 spiritual autho-
emoaoy of ordination,
mATretbyters), which
I only the government
lallnrank. Thehody
B, only admit of each
srs, on a primitive and
int Episcopal ohurohei
hose doctrines are con-
rtlcles and In the Book
landhaaforlUbaataa
Home, and rejects the
arning Indulgenoos and
iBges and relics, the In-
jonBrmatlon, penance,
tran9Ubstantlatlon,and
iflrmatlonasareligloui

Ice, the sign of the oro«i
I communion, absolution
ine of offldalB-blshops,
rectors, vicars, aic, and
ndar (see No. 7B), affixed
re retained the names ol
, such as Hilary, Prlsca,
le church pays no atten-
A fasts, festivals, vigils,
reign, whether a king or
the appointment of Us
I peers, and are members
lotlon with the state, the
misfortune of possessing
•les, whloh consequently
award VI.; yet this great
unimportant, on account
ity of the language of the
itary nature of the whole
by officiating ministers,
ared by order of Edward
Ing of thirteen English
ielr head. The oommls-
w up a Book of Common
rtion, and finally ratified
y following. This book,
present Common Prayer
divine offices, from the
United States of Amo-
oommunlons deriving
and having the aame

land, Holland, and some
\ large extent In North
jw the doctrines of John
, the sign of the cross,
jsalnU'days. Christmas
[tans in Holland, hut not
Tig equal in rank, are go-
[te, constituted from their
ous body of Presbyterian
blUhment ; and latterly,
' dUTerenoe, by declaring
Jn Church and State ; and
■ to the era of Constantino,
Ivll government, and Its
luntary contributions.

PAGAN AND MOHAMMEDAN RELIGIONS.

Rklioion ii a general habit of reverence towards Deity,
whereby we are inclined to worship and serve Him, so
as to procure His favour and blessmg. In this sense,
the term applies to all forms of belief — to an ignorant
trust in imaginary deities, as well as to a knowledge
of the true Creator and Preserver. The word religion
is from the Latin, and means literally to bind again;
that is, to present a new and sufficient reason for virtue,
and the hope of a state of blessedness after death.

PAGANISM.

Paganism is a term of wide import, and includes a
belief in heathen deities, as well as the practice of the
wildest superetitions. The whole of the ancient world,
excepting the Jews, were pagans, and under various
symbols worshipped imaginary deities. (See History
OF Ancient Nations, and also the succeeding sheet on
guPEBSTiTiONs in general.) We shall notice here some
of the principal forma of paganism: —

FKTISIIISM.

Fetish is a word which is believed to be derived from
the Portuguese language, and signifies any object in
nature or art to which a superstitious reverence is at-
tached. Fetishism is the lowest existing form of pa-
ganism. It is universal, one kind or other, throughout
various countries in Asia, Africa, and also islands in
the Pacific and Southern Oceans. It is the religion of
ignorant man, groping for deity, seeking for something
which he can venerate and fear. In Southern Africa
every tribe has its own variety of fetishes. In Whid-
dah, a small insect called the creeping leaf is highly
honoured. Some species of serpents also are worshipped
in temples by priests set apart for the purpose. In
Benin, fetishes are more numerous, and, in part, of
an entirely different description. The whole material
universe is believed to be animated and furnished with
spiritual powers : water, land, animals, stones, trees,
and vegetables of every description, are all full of divine
spirits and secret influences. He who makes any
eatable article his fetish, touches nothing of that sort
whatever, whilst he consumes, without the slightest
hesitation, what others consider holy. There is a depth
and mystery in this superstition which cannot be very
clearly understood. As far as can be reasonably con-
jectured, this species of fetishism implies a connection
between the visible and invisible, and that everything
may by certain means be made to have a relation to
man and his destiny. The quality of the thing arbi-
trarily set apart and invested with an attribute of divi-
nity is of no consequence : it may be a piece of bone,
rag, egg-shell, or clay, indeed no ir.atter what ; there
must merely be a belief of a relation subsisting between
it and man, which relation often commences only for
the first time when the thing is consecrated; in a
word, everything properly consecrated and revered as
the residence or tangible investiture of deity, is sup-
posed to have a divine power, which, when evoked,
is able to incline the Deity to comply with the wishes
of men. Under difierent names, this superstitious
reverence for visible objects has prevailed in nearly
all ages and countries. The Lacedaemonians had a
sacred stone, which, at the sound of a trumpet, is said
to have raised itself to the surface of the water from
the bottom of the Eurotas. The ancient Germans and
Ouuls had also their holy rocks, caves, seas, springs,
and trees, which afibrded miraculous aid, and delivered
oracles. In Iceland there was a stone in which a
divine spirit was supposed to reside, and was therefore
un object of religious worship. The Laplanders had
a, sacred mountain and a consulting drum, .till these
No. 7(>.

superstitions are as absurd and irrational aa the fetish^
ism of the Negroes ; they are, indeed, prompted by the
same hopes, fears, and feelings.

According to the visionary ideas of some ancient
sages, a divinity was supposed to reside in matter, and
to be liable to be roused from its latent state into
activity by means of consecrt;tion and the perform-
ance of Bolemn mysteries. In some of the islands of
the Pacific, if any person wishes to protect his pro-
perty, such as a house, field, or place of sepulture, fruni
robbery or intrusion, he declares that it is tabooed, or

S laced under the guardianship of his gods ; and the
elief that such is the case being universal, the pro-
perty is safe from aggression. Mr Ellis, in his ' Mis-
sionary Tour through Hawai,' mentions some interest-
ing particulars regarding the superstitious delusions of
the natives, which incline us to think that these remotely-
situated people must have had some early connection
with the ancient natives of Asia and Africa, from whom
the Greeks and Romans imported their learning and
mythological observances. These Hawains, as we are
told, previous to their embracing Christianity, believed
in a number of ideal ^ods, who were ministered to by
priests, and were propitiated by sacrifices of animals :
in making these sacrifices, the diviners observed * the
manner in which the victims expired, the appearance of
the entrails, and other signs. Sometimes, when the ani-
mal was slain, they embowelled it, took out the spleen,
and holding it in their hands, offered their prayers.
If they did not receive any answer, war was deferred.
They also slept in the temple where the gods were kept ;
and after the war-god hod revealed his will by a vision
or dream, or some other supernatural means, they com-
municated it to the king and warriors, and war was
either determined or relinquished accordingly.' The
images of the gods who constituted the guardians of the
tabooed places of sepulture are described as figures
oddly carved in pieces of wood ; these were stuck on
the fences and trees of the enclosure, and with their
horrid aspect and ragged garments, seemed no improper
emblems of the system they were designed to support.
Adjoining the sacred enclosure the author was shown
a Pahu Tabu, or City of Refuge, which was open for the
reception end security of all classes of delinquents, and
resembling in its regulations the sanctuaries of anti-
quity. These, and some other circumstances mentioned
by Mr Ellis, open an interesting field for speculation on
the probable connection of ancient and modem super-
stitions, or at least on the similarity of the delusions
by which the untutored human being has in all ages
been afiTected.

It is gratifying to think that these absurd supersti-
tions have in many of the Pacific islands, by the phi-
lanthropic exertions of Christian missionaries, been
entirely rooted out; and that from other quarters of
the globe the most cheering intelligence continues to
be received that the reign of idolatry is on the de-
cline, and that there are good hopes of its speedily
being overthrown by the diffusion of the mild and ele-
vating doctrines of a purer faith. From various parta
of Atrica we learn that Christianity is making en-
couraging progress, and has already been instrumental
in emancipating many of the natives from the influence
of retishism and other degrading superstitions. In the
interior of that continent, as we learn firom recent tra-
vellers, fetishisn: exists to a lamentable extent; and so
long as Africa continues to furnish the Christian world
with slaves, we may rest assured that this system re-
mains in vigorous exercise.

Fetishism has long been practised among the Negroes
of the West Indies under the name of Obeah or Obi —
a term most likely originating in Egypt and the adjacent

401

OBAHBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE FIOPLB.

parts of Africa, wli«re mclmtlj ihew wm » deity of a
detnoniacal cliaraoter, with th« name Ob or Oub, and
from which Muiei commanded the leraelites to abetain
from making inqulriei. Obi if therefore one of the ex-
ploded oracTei of the ancient world, which baa been
carried by captured Negroes to the West Indies, and
there set up as an oracle and the patron of incantations,
oharms, and all other superstitious delusions. The
adepts who practise this kind of fetishism are called
Obeah-nien, or Obeah-wonten, for both sexes engage in
the mysteries of this species of jugglery and imposture.
We believe that since the abolition of slavery in the West
Indies, and the spread of education and Christianity,
the practice of Obi has gone out of repute and notice.

At one period the religion of the Parseos or Fire-
worshippers existed throughout Persia and other parts
of Asia, but is now confined chiefly to the deserts of
Caraniania, towards the Persian Uulf, where it is fol-
lowed by the Ouebres or Oiaours (infidels), as they are
called by the Mohammedans. The great prophet or
improver of the Parsee religion was Zoroaster, who
flourished about two thousand years ago, and taught
the doctrines of there being an eternal spirit of Good or
Light (Ormuzd), and an eternal spirit of Kvil or Dark-
ness (Ahriman), with a vast number of inferior good
and bad genii. In this there was a glimmering of a
pure theism ; but besides a variety of absurd imagina-
tions respecting the organization of nature, the belief
in one (Jod was obscured by a typical worship of the
sun, and of fire, both bein^ supposed emanations, or at
least emblems, of the spirit of Good and Light. Fire-
worship, as practised by the Persian magi, disappeared
before the spreadof Christianity and Mohammedanism,
and, as we have said, exists chiefly among the Ouebres,
a detached remnant of the old Persian nation.

HINDOOISM.

Hindooism or Brahmiiiism is the religion professed
by amajority of the inbabitantsof llindoostan ; and while

Eossessing the force of great antiquity, it is supported
y a skilful priesthood and the division into castes, ren-
dering it the most ineradicable of any system of false
belief which exists (See East Imdies, No. 67).

The Hindoos recognize the existence of a supreme
and invisible Kuler of the universe, entitled Ilrohma,
but at the bame time believe in the existence of other
two deities, one of whom is Vishnu the Preser>-er, and
the other Siva the Destroyer. Previous to the creation,
Brahmb is said to have reposed in silence and self-ab-
sorption — a mode of existence considered by the Hin-
doos as the most perfect and godlike. Having a desire
to draw out of his own divine essence a glorious creation,
to supplant the deep primeval gloom, he by a thought
created the water, and deposited therein a golden egg,
blazing like ten thousand suns, which remained inac-
tive for millions of years, till Brahma, who lay en-
closed in this shining receptacle, by the energy of his
own thought, split it asunder, and sprang forth the
Divine Self- Existing, famed in all worlds as the crea-
tor of rational beings and the forefather of all spirits.
Brahma is represented as a golden -coloured figure,
with four heads and four arms; but although he gives
name to the frreat caste of the Brahmins or priests, no
sects derive their distinctive appellation from him. He
attracts little attention or worship, and he has neither
temples erected, nor sacrifices offered to him, nor festi-
Tals celebrateil in his honour.

Vishnu makes a very conspicuous figure in the sacred
annals of India, and the fundamental idea of the Hin-
doo religion, that of metamorphoses or transformations,
is exemplified in the avatars, or appearances upon earth
of this deity. In his character of pieserver, or rather
deliverer, he has, say the Vedas, interposed whenever
any great calamity threatened the world: and thus the
great ends of his providence are brought about by the
Tarious incarnations of the Hindoo deity. Of these
transformations there are ten, and they fill up the In-
dian yur/s, which compose a certain series of periods
intended to effect a junction with God, and comprising
402

4,820,000 yean. The yugi hare been ceniidered ai an
allegorical description of the year, divided by the soU
stices and equinoxes, and of the precession of the equi-
noxes. Nine avatars have already taken place, and the
tenth is yet to come.

It is unnecessary to dwell at any length on the won-
derful and ridiculous avatars of Vishnu. He first ap-
peared in the character of a fish, for the purpose of
recovering the sacred writings glyen by Brahma, which
had been swallowed by a giant (typical of the rebel-
liouB human soul), and buried along with himself in the
depths of th<) ocean. He successively appeared as a
tortoise, a boar, a man-lion, what is called the Brahmen
or lingam dwarf, and so on. The transformations are
of the most ridiculous nature; and were we to recite
them, thev should only excite pity for the ignorance of
the wretched believers in such absurdities.

In his subsequent avatars, under difl['erent forms,
Vishnu delivered the world from successive monsters
and giants which threatened its tranquillity. In the
ninth avatar, which is supposed to have taken place
in the year 1014 before the Christian era, Vishnu as-
sumed the form of Uoodh, the author of a rival creed
distinct from that of Brahma. It appears pretty evident
that Boodhism at one time very extensively prevailed
throughout India; and several great dynasties, parti-
cularly that of Magadha, were Boodhist. But a war
having taken place between the devotees of Brahma
and those of Boodh, the latter were worsted, and dis-
persed throughout the countries to the east and north
of llindoostan, and Boodhism is no longer professed in
India. The rival systems will be noticed after we have
described the other deities, male and female. In the
tenth avatar, Vishnu will descend to the earth mounted
on a white horse, and armed with a scimitar blazing
like a comet, to root out evil from the earth, and eter-
nally to punish the wicked. Vishnu is represented of
a black or blue colour, with four arras, and a club to
exercise chastisement on the wicked. The emblems
under which he is represented refer to his vindictive
character. He has three eyes, to denote the three great
divisions of time — past, present, and future. A orescent
in his forehead refers to the measuring of time by the
lunar revolutions, as a serpent denotes it by years; and
the necklace of skulls which he wears, the extinction of
mankind in successive generations.

The third member of the Hindoo triad is Siva the
Destroyer. It may be here remarked that the distin-
guishing appellations applied to these deities are not
altogether characteristic of their functions — Vishnu
the Preserver frequently employing himself in acts of
destruction, and Siva, on the other hand, in acts of be-
neficence. But much vagueness, inaccuracy, and con-
fusion prevail throughout the whole of the Hindoo
^reed ; and this no doubt arises from the love of the
marvellous and indescribable, by which thev are led to
grasp at phantoms of thought as undefinable as they
are impalpable. Siva, it appears, has had an equal
share of personal adventure with Vishnu, although the
characters which he assumed were not so various, nor
his exploits so important or striking. His female
partner is called Doorga, and to her the appellation of
destroyer is more applicable than to him. She is the
chief amongst the female deities ; in short, the most
foimidable and warlike personage of the Hindoo pan-
theon. She has rivalled Vishnu in the number of
forms which she has assumed, and the conflicts in
which she has borne the most conspicuous part; and
the giants and others who have fallen vioiims to the
prowess of her arm, occupy a prominent place in the
wild records of Hindoo mythology. As an object of
adoration, the appearance which she is made to assume
shows a remarkable obliquity of moral vision in those
who framed at first, and those who worship still, this
horrible personage. Under the name of Kalee, she is
black, with four arms, wearing two dead bodies as ear-
rings, a necklace of skulls, and the hands of several
slaughtered giants circling her waist like a zone. Her
eyebrows stream with blood; and not content, as the

PAGAN AND MOHAMMEDAN BELIOIONS.

joniidend m an
ld«d by the loU
lion of the equi-
m place, and the

igth on the won-
II. He fint ap-
■ the purpoie of
r Brahma, which
cftl of the rebel-
th himnelf in the
T appeared as a
led the Brahmen
nsformationi are
irore we to recite

the ignorance of
Ities.

different fornii,
cceiaiTe monsters
quillitj. In the
have taken place
n era, Vishnu ai-
r of a rival creed
lars pretty evident
ensively prevailed
; dynasties, parti-
Ihist. But a war
rotees of Brahma
wonted, and dis-
he east and north
onger professed in
;iced after we have
i female. In the
the earth mounted
a scimitar blazing
le earth, and eter-
1 is represented of
rms, and a club to
id. The emblems
r to his vindictive
ote the three great

future. A orescent
■ing of time by the
es it by years; and

I, the extinction of

triad is Siva the
[d that the distin-
jse deities are not
kinctiona — Vishnu
] himself in acts of
land, in acts of be-
iccuracy, and con-
)le of the Hindoo
)m the love of the
|ich they are led to
ndeflnable as thoy
I has had an equal
shnu, although the
lot 80 various, nor
[ing. His female
the appellation of
him. She is the
in short, the most
ff the Hindoo pan-
lin the number of
_ the conflicts in
ipicuous part; and
lien viuiims to the
Hnent place in the
As an object of
is made to assume
Iral vision in those
worship still, this
le of Kalee, she is
lead bodies as ear-
hands of several
. like a zone. Her
tot content, as the

male divinities generally are, with the simple produc-
tions of nature, her altars are made to flow with the
blood of animal oblations. Old records even give diroc-
t'ci* how human sacrifices are to be ofl'erod to this
cruel goddew. India has no doily more popular, not
only amongst banditti, who hold hor in especial vene-
ration, b' 'th the mom reputable classes of the com-
munity, \ offer lavish gifts on her shrine. The dia-
erace of her_ religion consists in the worship of impure
imagery, which it is impossible to mention.

It is unnecessary to enumerate eveft the more im-
portant of the minor deities; as for the whole, they are
altogether innumerable. Some have taken the trouble
to reckon up three hundred and thirty millions of thorn.
There are gods of the elements, of war, of the sun, of
the winds, of firo, of water, and so on. Every river,
fountain, and stream, ia either a deity itself, or has
one presiding over it. The worship or deification of
the Ganges forms a distinguishing element in the belief
of the Hindoos. Into this large river all who dwell
within a certain distance of its banks crowd morn-
ing and evening to bathe; and the water of this sacred
stream is carried to all parts of India, and is sworn
by in courts of justice. At Allahabad, where the
streams of the Ganges and Jumna unite, the count.'y
for many miles round is considered sacred ground ;
and so great is the number of pilgrims who resort
thither lor bathing, that the vizier has received in
one year half a lack of rupees for permission to enjoy
the benefit of immersion in the sacred flood. Often-
times may be witnessed children hurrying their parents
to the river side, fearful lest they should dio before
being able to reach its banks. Nothing can be more
distressing to the feelings than to behold these poor
expiring creatures, some calling upon Rham, some
upon one of their false gods, others upon another, with
their bodies half in the water and half out, the rising
tide soon to overwhelm them. Many are stretched
out where the tide cannot reach them, and their case is
more pitiable still. Beneath a burning sun, they arc
left without food, and great numbers, who would no
doubt recover from their diseases if proper attention
were paid to them, are literally starved to death, or
devoured by jackals at night.

Amongst the degrading doctrines of the Hindoo faith,
a veneration for, and even a worship of, members of the
brute creation is not the least remarkable. The cow,
in particular, commands the most exalted reverence;
and this venerable quadruped may be seen in cities
sauntering up and down in the most public places, per-
fectly at her ease, and calling forth expressions of pro-
found respect. The monkey likewise ranks amongst
the higher grade of animals, and is allowed to roam at
large wherever he lists — a chartered thief, now layinf;
the confectioner's sweetmeats under tribute, and anon
taxing the fmiterer for a portion of his juicy store.
But this superstition reaches its climax in the hoapitala
which are erected for affording shelter and succour to
sick and infirm brutes, including lice, fleas, and other
insects. It must be an exceedingly nice investigation
for those who preside as medical attendants over such
institutions, to determine the state of health of such
patients. Other animals besides these are held sacred,
but some quadrupeds are treated with great cruelty.
The draught horses, in particular. Bishop Hcher in-
forms us, are barbarously abused; nor is there much
sympathy shown to human beings, who are often allowed
to perish from disease or hunger under the canopy of
heaven, without awakening a sigh in the bosoms of the
onlookers. Lepers are regarded as objects of divine
wrath, and are treated accordingly, sometimes being
burned or buried alive.

The peculiar character of the Hindoo creed is derived
from their tenet respecting the transmigration of souls.
The spirits of the dead are said to enter a receptacle
corresponding to the previous character of the indi-
vidual. The immortal part of the just and good, how-
ever insignificant the person may have been, migrates
into a hermit, a Brahmin, a demigod, and so forth,

rising in dignity according to the degree of merit. Th«
wicked, on the other hand, not only are degraded a*
human beings, but are compelled to lodge in the bodies
of animals. The Hindoo oracles endeavour to establish
a degree of conformity between the punishment awarded
and oflences committed. The pilferer of grain is meta-
morphosed into a rat, and he who stole fruits or roots
becuinea an ape. Others are degraded into wonns, in-
sects, and so on. The person thus lowered in the scale
of creation must pass through a long succession of de-
graded births before ho can reassume the human form.
This system of rewards and punishments, although con-
fined to the earth, docs not exclude the belief of a
heaven and a hell hereafter. The celestial mansions,
like those of the Mohammedan, are replete with objects
of voluptuous enjoyment; but only Brahmins and per-
sons of high attainments or great sanctity are permitted
to enter these blisai'ul abodca. Hume ardent devotees
aspire to a higher destiny, and hope to be absorbed into
the essence of the Supreme Being, where they shall re-
pose for ever on an unruflled sea of bliss. The plnce of
final punishment, in like manner, consists of different
compartments, the penalties inflicted in which corre-
spond to the iniquities of those who are doomed to enter
within their dismal precincts.

The devotion of the Hindoos consists in a system
of ceremonious observances, not only troublesome in
themselves, but encroaching on the moral duties, nay,
the whole business of life. Such a stock of atoning
merit is by this means conferred, that the weightier
matters of the law seem to be superseded; at all events
this external devotion is not inconsistent with the most
scandalous crimes. The observances commence in the
morning with ablutions and prayers, the worship of the
rising sun, in the inaudible recitation of their holy
writings, in meditation, and the like. The five sacra-
ments are then performed, which are, teaching and
studying the sacred books, offering cakes and water, an
oblation of fire, in giving rice and other food to living
creatures, and in receiving guests with honour. The
whole of these ceremonies are necessarily abridged, for
the entire day would scarce suflico for their perfect
performance. The early Hindoos seem to have bor-
rowed, and to have greatly extended, the typical im-
purities of the Mosaic law; and the rules on this
subject, pointing out the causes of defilement and the
modes of purification, are numerous and absurd. The
death or birth oS a, child, touching a dead body, a new-
born child, a Pariah or outcast, and so on, render
people unclean ; and the modes of purification are
either bathing, stroking a cow, looking at the sun, or
having the mouth sprinkled with water.

Penance and self-torture are regarded as essential to
the attainment of a character for holiness; but in their
attempts to suit the amount of penance to the magni-
tude of the offence, there is almost a total subversion
of all moral distinctions. Acts naturally indifferent
are classed with heinous immoralities; for instance,
eating things forbidden is put on the same footing with
killing a friend, and drinking forbidden liquor with
killing a Brahmin. A particular class of devotees,
called yogues or fakirs, signalise their piety by enduring
the severest tortures with a firmness and perseverance
worthy of the holiest cause. These consist in burying
theinselves in the depths of forests, either in a state of
perfei I, nakedness, or having their bodies coated with
ashes and cow-dung; in allowing the nails of their hands
and feet to grow till they assume the dimensions and
appearance of bird's claws; roasting themselves before
liuge fires; immuring theinselves in the ground, and
leaving only a small breathing-hole; going about with
small spe lis or rings pierced through the most tender
parts of tho body, and hot irons applied to the side;
holding their hands above their head till they have lost
the power of bringing them down again, and become
witheied like that of the individual mentioned in tho
Kvangelists; clenching the fists till the nails penetrate
the palms; turning their faces to the sun till they can-
not regain their natural position, or gazing on his in-

403

CHAHHBUPt UTFOBMASIOV rOS THS FBOPLE.

««H blu* till thair eyariglit ia axtlnftuiikwl; Wing on
iron opilcoo; loftring the <i«th with whipo; clMiiiing
theniMlroo for Ufe to the foot of « tr«0( mi«1 porfonu-
ing othor luch-lik* soil of ulntr raioide. 8oroo of their
attitude! MO eiueediiigl/ fkntMtioal ; for instkuce,
Biikop Ileber inw » deTotee hopping about nn one foot,
kaving niade ft row never to put the other to the
grounci, which was now thrivalled up, eontncted, and
UaeleM. Begging holda n conipicuouH place among the
religious dutiei of the llindooa, Mr Ward aitiriiiH that
•a eighth part of tho iuiiabitanti of llengal and Dahar
eubeist in thie manner; thus conitituting a meudioant
population of unwardi of two luiliioni. Kelisioui pil-
grimagea are hold in high esteem, and the holy places
hare generally been established near the sea, the
souroos and junctions of rivers, the tops of remarkable
hills, hot springs, caves, waterfalls, and ^>laces of diffi-
cult or dangerous access. All the principal roads are
crowded with people hastening to those holy places,
Some are held in higher veneration than others; and it
is no uncommon occurrence, in the crush and tumult
of the niultir.udtt to reach these fabulous Bethesdas,
for narabera to be trodden to death under foot, or pre-
cipitated into the water and drowned,

The saored writings of the flindooa are of two kinds
•—the Vedas and Shastres. The former moy be tonnod
their Scriptures, the latter expositions of them. The
Vedaa are divided into f-ur books, all written in the
Sanscrit language. l'h.i f rst book is called liutf Veda,
which signifies the Scic uo of Divination, conooming
which it principally tr«nt<t. The second is distinguished
by the title oi' Sheeham,, ikh'ch signifies Piety or Dero-
tion; and this book truats of religious iuid moral duties.
The third is the Judga Veda, which, as thu word im-
plies, includes the whole science of religious rites and
oeremoniea. The fourth ia denominated Obattr Bah,
or the knowledge of the Qood Being, and accordingly
this book comprehends the whole esaenoe of theology
and metaphyiiical or moral philosophy. These various
books arc acknowledged to be of great antiquity, but
abound in such abaurditiea, as to be of little or no v^lue
as bis^ori<Hl documents.

The '-omplea for the celebintion of Hindoo worship
appear i<i haTe been in ancient times of the most mag-
nificent deitcri[ tion, as is proved by the remains of those
of Elephanta and Salsette. The temples of tho present
day do not exhibit such elaborate grandeur, many con-
taining only one apartment, ard few having moro than
three or four. The crow<Ja which beaiege them on
solemn occasions celebrate the!r observances in an open
area fronting the gates, so that nothing ia required
within but accommodation for the images, and one or
two attendants. The idols are composed of every pos-
sible kind of material, from gold down to wood or clay,
smeared over with a little reil paint. Any figure, either
of brute or man, or centaur-like combinations of both,
serves for a god, and is reverenced as such by the igno-
rant Hindoos, after a Brahmin has consecrated them
by a process of solemn buftbonery. When placed in
the temple, every ima;;e has a daily round of homage
performed before it, and is furnished with a regular
allowance of food, which, after remaining for a limited
time, is served out mnongst the attendants. These oii'er-
ings are profusely luvbhed on great annual festivals,
whilst the multttttdes without sing indecent songs, and
threw themselves into the moat fantastical attitudes
and motions. The various articles of maintenance
bestowed upon the goddess Kalee, for example, in her
temple at Kaleeghata, are considered by Mr Ward aa
worth about XOOUU annually.

There is no doubt that, at no yety distant period, the
bloody deities of the Hindoos were propitiated with hu-
man aacrifices; and in confiriiiatiuu of thin, some of the
rites still remain. C'liildren were sacrificed by being
thrown into the river Uanges, until the practice was
put a stop to by the British goverumcnt. Uld women
are still occasionally burned, in order that their spirits
may haunt the spot where tUvy are offered up, and en-
tail a curse upon it. The tuUet. ui custom of % widv>«r
404

burning herself on the fUnanI pile of har husband, wai
a weU-known and oommon rite «( the Hindoo religion,
till prohibited by order of the British government; and
the lastival of JuBgeraaut,anoth« sanguinary ritual also
happily on the decline, ia celebrated by the saorifloe of
numerous victims. This idol-car is a loft^ ornamented
structure, in which are ropreacntations ot tho god, and
of Bala llama and Soobhodra, said to bo hi* brother
and sister, This infernal machine, for it deserves no
better name, isjlrogged along amid shouts of triumph
by tho iuAktuatod multitude, its path being marked by
the bodies of mangled victims, who voluntarily throw
themsolvos before the wheels, and are crushed to death.
The most indecent figures are portrayed on the chariots
used at the temples. With such an impure religion, it
is not a matter of surprise that tho state of morals ia
very low in India.

From time to time during the lapse of ages, various
sectaries hare arisen amongst the Hindoos, each with
peculiar objects of adoration and modes of wofshi|i.
Brahma, as already observed, is at the head of no sect;
and Vishnu and Siva, the two powera next to him,
divide in a great measure the worship of Indian de-
votees. Among forty-three leading denominations, Mr
Ward reckons twentv to attach themselves to Vishnu,
nine to Siva, four to his wife Doorga, under tho name
of Saktas, while ten select inferior objects of adoration.
The xealous adherents of the rival sects of Vishnu and
Siva are avowed enemies, and hold each other up to
odium and ridicule. But the most important schism ia
thut between the disciples of Brahma and the adherents
of Boodh, to which allusion has already been made.
The latter have objects of worship, a creed, oeremoniea,
and institutions entirely peculiar. Their temples are
much more splendid than those of the followers of
Brahma, and their priests live in spacious convents.
Boodbism u no longer professed in India Proper, but
there is a sect called the Joinos, very numerous in
Western Hindoostan. They combine in some meaauto
tho practice and doctrine of the two rival systems.

The Sikhs, who recently offered such formidable
opposition to the British dominion in India, are tho
only aect in Hindooatan who have ubjured the errora of
Hindooiam, and adopted a purer and more rational
creed. Their founder, NAnuk Shah, who waa bom a, d.
1469, woa on able and good man, and woa anxious
to eil'ect a union between the Mohammedans and Hin-
doos, and for this purpose endeavoured to prevail upon
the members of i>oth secta to forego those parts of their
respective systems which were not essential to the
maintenance of a pure and holy life. He succeeded in
obtaining numerous disciples; and his elevated religion,
united to the immaculate purity of his life, gave him
great iniluence, both of a temporal and spiritual na-
ture, over those who embraced his doctrines. Even to
this day his followers continue to venerate his memory;
and notwithstanding the persecutions to which they
have been subjected by their Mohammedan neighbours,
they have continued to receive such accessions to their
numbers, and have approved themselves such distin-
guished warriors, that it lately required no small effort
on the port of the greatest military power in India to
repel their aggressions. It is a remarkable circumstance
that the Siklis should have been able to receive and to
maintain so pure a creed in the midst of the grossest
idolatry ; and tho formidable opposition which they
have succeeded in presenting to such powerful enemies
as they have had occasion to contend with, shows the
tendency which freedom from degrading superstition
evidently has in elevating the human character. Had
they continued to adhere to the ancient usages of their
country, it would have been impossible for them to
maintain their position as they have done; for the dis-
tinctions of caste, and the interminable ceremonies en-
joined by the Hindoo faith, tend not only to deteriorate
the mental and botlily powers, but to make serious en-
croachments upon the tin\e which ought to be dedicated
to the active and necessary duties of life.

Decidedly the most vicious part of the Hindoo religion

1>A0AK AND M

Hindoo religion

of lk< >«M>|>U into >4^e«, or (ll»i < | tht.
dMWf '^«ni«i»n-r -oiMntitr m «M v«rv ( •nUi.

of lUCUu JiriOBTtM, Mlt( jirtVMt* « ^><MMkl iMf>' | MI»iM,

tn«nt. The wnoleillndon populii; ' .irfaiiiM- '<• thiir

bfMoliM or trib«(, itenuiiiiMiitv. vinoinf, K- .<•, I
Bhyi}r», and Soodra. Thern aHi*«, and u ■«» '

of thew terend caitoa arc i> "ued in

V«daa, or iioir boukii. The Mr.. th<> p' ib,

thev trerequirofl to be virtuous, Ii';,n i, ,p«ii ilii«,
and letf-dciiying. If theM wer« erer the diitingiiixhing
tralta of thslr order, the very rovone aro the feature*
of their character now. The Kyetra In the military
oaato: the Vedai require of them a thlrtt for glory; to
die rather than retreat; generosity and princely conduct
to oaptiTog. Bhyaya form the auricultural part of the
community; their duties are briefly defined at culti-
vator* and traflickeri. The fourtn or Soodra caite
ooniliti of labourerj, who are enjoined to lerve with pa-
tience and fidelity; the former, porhape, they generally
do, but ai for the latter, it ia only when conttrained
by fear of puniihuiont or lo«* of pay. The two middle
caites havu alnioit become extinct, or rather amalga-
mated with the former and latter. Thui it may almost
be 8aid that the whole Hindoo nation iinow composed of
Drahmius or Boodras, both of which are divided into
a great many degrees or sub-cnites, so that there are
many orders of Brahmins as well as of Soodras. Of
the latter, the Koit is the highest, and the Hurry the
lowest, which caste oinbraoet shoemakers, mat-makers,
bird-catchers, tanners, skinners, snake-catchers, and
many others similarly employed.

By this division of caste or grade, no possible
means exist for any person to rise in the scale of
society; all motives to exertion or mental improvement
are cut oiT; no actions, however noble, no discoveries,
however important to society, would insure honour
to a person of low caste; and those of high caste lose
no honour or reputation by their ignorance and vice.
Whatever be the mental abilities of a Hindoo, if born
n Soodra, a Soodra he must remain ; if the father be a
snake-catcher, all his sons must bo snake-catchers too;
and the influence of caste follows him through all the
ramifications of life. Persons of diiierent castes or
occupations cannot eat, drink, or smoke together ;
neither can they intermarry, nor meddle with each
other's employment. If a Hindoo loses caste, which is
the caso if he breaks through any of the foregoing rules,
the most distressing consequences ensue : no one will
eat with him, or suffer him to come near his dwelling,
or marry his children; his own wife and family disown
him; looked upon as an outcast of society, he is de-

E rived of all privileges, or means of comfort as long as
« lives; and however respectable he may have been
before, the meanest caste consider him a vagabond, and
will not associate with him. It is caste that renders so
many servants necessary to do the work which one or
two might easily accomplish. They are born to one
particular department of service, and no other can they
perform without losing caste. Thus the man who
fetches water cannot wait at table, nor the man who
cooks the dinner serve it up; neither will the person
who attends the table sweep the room afterwards — and
so on through all the different pursuits of life. A
native embracing Christianity loses caste by partaking
of the Lord's' Supper; it requires, therefore, great for-
titude of mind to riiake a profession of faith in the
gospel. There are many who have no caste, having
been excommunicated because of sortie breach of the
ceremonial laws of their religion, either by themselves
or their forefathers; these are all termed Pariahs, and
dare not touch the person, garments, food, utensils, or
dwelling of a Hindoo of caste, as contamination follows.
The Brahmins are a very lordly, domineering race,
and exact the most severe homage of the Soodras.
They themselves are under great restrictions, as well
as the Soodras, particularly in the article of food, being
prohibited from eating anything that has had life,
except fish. This probably arises from their belief in
the doctrine of transmigration ; and as they believe

iifh th* spirits of their aneesien m«y havw
bottles »t all beasts, birds, teptUts, and in>

they (III not enter into another element, so
may <fat fish with impuaity. Rico, with

spleen, iiiilk, aud ghee, or clarified batter, ii their prin>
oipal diet, although they may partake of tht flesh of
such animals as are offered in sacrifice to the gods, tlM
laws of tho religion permitting this.

The Brahmins though all eligible to the priesthood,
yet do not all follow it. Some enter the military ser-
vice of the Kast India Company, and other* becomo
clerks and oopyiits; but none are permitted to engage
in menial employments! and in whatever state they are
found, the snine honoi<. is paid by their aitoaatei,
though perhaps not to that degree as if in priestly oflice.
So great is the pride of the Brahmins, that they claim
precedence of kings, aud the noblest rajah will partake
of food cooked or presented by a Brahmin, whilst tha
meanest Brahmin will not taste that which has been pre-
pared by a Soodra, although that Soodra should occupy
a much higher station, civilly, than himself. The reli-
gion which inculcates those arrangements ia found to
be almost unconquerable by Christian missionaries, for
the adoption of Christianity involves a total cliar.ge of
opinion on the constitution of society ; and it is a melan-
choly fact that few except the worst of the Hindoo
populace will become proselytes. It is now generally
acknowledged, that in order to make any impression on
the religion of the Hindoos, it will be absolutely neces-
sary to coniiiieiice with the instruction of the young in
various branches of useful knowledge, to which h^>pily
the Brahmins offer no objection, while such instruction
i§ universally desired by the people. ,

BOOOIIISH.

Boodhisra, or the religion of Boodh or Dhnd, ii
considerably elevated above either pure paganism or
Hindooism, and is deeply interesting from being the
most prevalent form 01"^ religion upon earth. The
number of the whole human race being estimated at
965,000,000, nearly the one-half, or 400,000,000, are
Boodhiats. According to the account of Mr Howard
Malcom, in his ' Travels in the Burman Empire,' to
whom we are indebted for tho following particulars,
Boodhism is proiessed by half of the population of
China, Lao, Cochin-China, and Ceylon; all of Caraboja,
Siani, Burmah, Thibet, Tartary, and Loo-Choo; and a
great part of Japan, and most of the other islands of
the southern seas, are
of this faith. In some
partsof llindoostan it
is the great rival of
Hindooism ; but its
principal stronghold is
in tho adjoining em-
pire of Burmah.

< Boodh is a general
term for divinity, and
not the name of any

Particular god. There
ave been innumer-
able Boodhs, in diffe-
rent ages, among dif-
ferent worlds, but in
no world more than
five, and in some not
any. In this world
there have been four
Boodhs — Kaiikathan,
GaunagOng, Kathapa,
and Gaudama. There
is another yet to fol-
low — namely, Arce-
modayeh.

It has oflin been supposed that Boodhism resembles
Brahminism or Hindooism, which is a great mistake.
No two systems can be more opposite, or bear less evi-
dence of being derived from each other. Brahminism
has incarnations, but Boodhism admits of none, fur it

405

Oaudama.

cuAVnaitteB rs»cmkA'xi<m for tbi pioput.

kM no p«nnafi«nl gw). Th«t hM * hott. ut i<i, i, , »hit
onlr on*. Th*l wijoina bloody woriflcM; fait forbUli
nllitUing. Th*l rtquIrM Ktrooloui ioll'-tortu'tt; thii
incuicKtM fewer kutterltlM th»n C»tholiclani. That
inalcM \y\ng, thaft, nnil other vlcee innietlinoi coin-
roeiidftble, kiul deecribei the gmU m excellinj; in these
•Borniitiei; thi* nerer confuundi riKht anil wrnng, and
nerer excuic* any liii. I'hat makei »b«or])tion into
deity the lurreme f(ood; thit annihilation. In flue, 1
know of no important roieniblnnce.

Doodhiim inculcntei no {irinciple of caite, which ii »
itriking diflerence front what prerailv anions the llin-
doof ; and from thii and other cnuie:/ it ii beliered to
b« much more ancient as a relij^inn than Hrnhniiniiin.
The probability Monit to be, that Ilrahminit:u fftew
out of noodhiim, and gained power and number* in
Hindooitan till the cloio of the lint century of the
Chriitian era, when the Driihininx were able to roiii-
mence thai iieriecution of whith their own record*
■peak, and wnich drove out the teacher* of Itoodhiiin
into Farther India, whence it extended into China.

The moat extraordinary peculiarity of Hoodhiam ii
the want of any oxiating (jod. Ailoratioii or reaped
i* tnerely paid to the iina^'u of Oaudaiiin, who waa n god
at a funner period, but ia now annihilated, or entered
into annihilation. Gaudnnia wai the ion of a king,
and born about 626 year* before the cominenuement of
our era. He had previously lived in four hundred
million* of worlds, and paaaed through innumerable
conditions in each. In Ihit world he had been alnicat
every sort of worm, fly, fowl, fish, or animal, and in
almoak every grade and condition of human life. Having
in the course of thcae triuiaitions attained immenae
merit, he at length wua born son of the iibovc-namcd
king. The moment ho was born, ho jumped upon his
feet, and spreading out his arras, exclaimed, " Now am
I the noblest of men! This is the last time I shall ever
be bom ! " His height, when grown up, was nine cubits.
His cars were so beautifully long, as to hang upon his
shoulders; Lis hands reached to his knees; nis fingers
were of equal length ; and with his tongue he could
touch the end of his noae ! All which are considered
irrefragable evidences of his divinity.

When in this state his mind was enlarged, so that he
remembered his former condition* and existences. Of
these he rehearsed many to his followers. Five hun-
dred and fifty of these narratives have been preserved —
one relating his life and adventures as a deer, another
as a monkey, elfphunt, fowl, &c. &c. The collection is
called Dzttt, and forms a very considerablo part of the
sacred books. These legends are a fruitful source of
designs for Burman paintings. Of these I purchased
several, which do but bring out into visible absurdity
the system tb*ir would illustrate.

He became Boodh in the thirty-fifth year of his age,
and remained so forty-five years, at the end of which
time, having performed all sorts of meritorious deeds,
and promulgated excellent laws far and wide, ho ob-
tained " nic-ban;" that is, entered into annihilation, to-
gether with five hundred priests, by whom he had been
long attended. This occurred in Hindoostan about
23U0 years ago, or b.c. 546. At his death he advised
that, beside* obeying his laws, his relics and imago
should be worshipped, and pagodas built to his memory,
till the development of the next Doodh. He is inva-
riably lepresented in the same manner, except that
sometime* he is made to wear a crown, necklace, orna-
ments on hi* arm*, Jcc. I havo seen them of all sizes,
from half an inch long to seventy-five feet — of wood,
stone, brass, brick, clay, and ivory.

The next Boudh is to appear in about seven or ci<;ht
thousand years from the present time. His height will
be eighty cubits, his mouth will be five cubits wide,
and the length of the hairs of his eyebrows five cubits.
The precise time of his arrival is not predicted. No
law* or sayings of the first three Boodhs are extant.
Those of Gaudama were transmitted by tradition,
till 450 years after his decease, when they were re-
duced to writing in Ceylon— that is, a.d. 94. These
406

are thn only iMred books of lit* RnnBMf, ni tM
all in the Pali langmigo. They are comprised in thrt«
divisions, each of nUUh >» divided into distinct book*
or sections. The «I»-.U< nllad tk« Hedagml.

Acoonling to ll>a (*^iit|iHt, ihe #«iiv«r*« consist* of an
infinite number of ayatcms : «hvi4 avitem conalats of a
great central niouiuitiii luyroundeJ by seas, and four
great islands, each surrounded by five hundred smaller
ones. This earth is in the southern cluster of island*, and
we are living on th« Inrgnr one. It is a convex plane,
not a sphere; and ia di>ided by mountains and navi-
gable sea*. Uelow ita upper crust, on which we live, 1*
water twice a* deep n the earth 1* thick. The whole
is supported on a atru iiin of air twice as deep as the
water, Beneath is « vacuum. The celestial region*
consist of twenty-aix nrincipal heavens, one above an-
other; and the infernal regions of eight principal place*
of punishment, each surrounded by sixtte«n smaller one*.
In one of the heavens there are pleasant habitation*
for mortal* after death ; and at the king's principal re-
lidence there is an elephant of stupendor* size. Thi*
animal i* of immense height, and has seven heads; each
head ha* seven tusks, and each tuik seven tanks. In
each of these tanks grow seven lilies; each lily has seven
blossoms ; each blossom has seven petals ; each petal
bears up seven palaces, and in each palace aio seven
nymphs, or wivea of the king, each surrounded by AOO
attendants. Another elephant has one great head, thirty
uzenas long, on which the king occasionally rides; and
thirty -two smaller heads, for the thirty -two royal
prince*. Of the principal hells, four inflict punishment
Dy heat, and tho other four by cold.

Not only bos the universe and all it* avstems existed
from eternity, but also the souls of all the inhabitants,
whether animals, men, or celestials. These souls have
from eternity been transmigrating from one body to
another, rising or falling in the scale of existenco and
enjoyment, according to the degree of merit, at each
birth. Thi* rise or fall is not ordered bv any intelli-
gent judge, but is decided by immutable fate. In pass-
ing through these various forms of existence, the amount
of sorrow endured by each soul is incalculable. The
Bedagat declares that the tears shod by any one soul,
ill its various changes from eternity, are so numerous,
that tho ocean is but a drop in comparison ! Kxistencc
and sorrow are declared to bo necessary concomitants ;
and therefore " the chief end of man" is to finish thi*
eternal round of changes, and be annihilated.

The great doctrines of this faith are five — namely,
I . The eternal existence of the universe, and all beings.
3. Metempsychosis. 3. Nic-ban, or annihilation. 4. The
appearance, at distant periods, of beings who obtain
deification and subsequent annihilation. 5. The obtain-
ing of merit. Of tho first four of these enough has been
already said. 'I'lio last is more deserving of notice,
embracing as it docs the whole system of morals.

Merit consists in avoiding sin* and performing vir-
tues, and tho degree of it is the sole hope of the Uood-
hitt. The sins which are to be avoided aro described
in a moral code, consisting of five principal and positive
laws: — 1. Thou shalt not kill. 2. Thou shalt not steal.
3. Thou shalt not commit adultery. 4. Thou shalt not
lie. 5. Thou shalt not drink any intoxicating liquor.
These are explained and branched out, so a* to include
all sin* of the same kind under each head. The first
of these laws is extended to all killing, even that of
animals for food. The strictly religious will not take
the life even of vermin. War and capital punishments
are considered forbidden by the first law.

Sins are divided into three classes : — 1. Those of the
body — such as killing, theft, &c. 2. Those of the
toiigre — OS falsehood, discord, harsh language, idle talk,
&c. 3. Those of the mind — as pride, covetousness,
envy, heretical thoughts, adoring false gods, &c. The
sacred books portray strongly the evils of pride, auger,
covetousness, and inordinate appetites. Men ore urged
to avoid excessive perfumes, ornaments, laughter, vain
joy, strong drink, smoking opium, wandering about the
streets iu the night, excessive fondness for amusements.

t>AOAN AXD MOBAIOIEDAK RELiaiOm.

iM>, ftnd aN
rlied in thrf*
liitiiict booki
tgnl.

coiiiiitf of M
coniiiti of n
«M, and fnur
hdrvtl •mailer
DfUlandf.and
cuiirex pinne,
Ini and narU
ich we lire, ii
[. The whole
II deep ni the
Icitinl rcgiuui
one above an-
nii(:i|ial placet
n •inaller oiici,
nt habitattotii
'I principal re-
>i'i size. Thli
en headi; each
ren tankf. In
\ lily hai leven
,1s ; each petal
lace are loren
Dunded by SOO
lat head, thirty
illy ridei; and
rty-two royal
let puninhiueut

ystoms cziated
ho iuhabitantii
bese louli have
;n one body to
f exiitence and
merit, at each
by any intelli-
j fate. In pasi-
ico, the ampuut
Jculable. The
y any one loul,
■o numerous,
! Existence
concomitants ;
tu finish this
latcd.
five— namely,
and all beings,
ilation. 4. The
igs who obtain
Theobtain-
nough has beeii
ing of notice,
' morals,
performing vir-
I of the fiood-
aro described
lal and positive
shalt not steal,
hou shult not
icating liquor.
B to include
ead. The first
, even that of
will not take
,1 punishments

, Those of the
Those of the
uage, idle talk,
cuvetousness,
jods, &c. The
f pride, anger,
Men are urged
laughter, vain
iriug about the
>r amusements,

£t«(|a«nUng bad eompany, and idleness. Those who
aepire to ulc-ban are cautioned to abhor sorcery, not
to credit dreams, not be angry whi^n abused nor elated
when approved, not to Hatter beiuractors, not to indulge
in scorn or biting ieeli, and must carefully to avoid en-
kindling strife and haired.

The states uf the mind »• resulved into three olauei:
— 1. When we are |ii«ased in the poiseuion of agree-
able things. 2. When we are grieved and distressed bpr
evil things. S. When neither do good things gratify
tts, nor evil things distress. The last is the best state,
and in it a man is ranidly preparing for nic-ban. In
this there is no small resemblance to the doctrine of
the Stoics, and some anproach to the Christian doctrine
of weanedness from the world. Some of their books
abound in good comparisons, such as, that he who runs
into sinful enioyments is like a butterfly who flutters
round a candle till it falls in; or one who, by licking
honey from a knife, cuts his tongue with the edge.
There is scarcely a prohibition of the Iledagat which
is not sanctioned by our Holy Scriptures, and the argu-
ments appended to them are often Just and forcible.

Merit IS of three kinds: — I. Theela, or the observ-
ance of all the prohibitions and precepts, ami all duties
fairly deducible from them; such as beneficence, gentle-
ness, integrity, lenity, forbearance, condescension, vene-
ration for parents, love to mankind, &c. &c. 2. Dr-
or giving alms and offerings. This ii\olude8 f"
priests; building kyoungs, pasndas, and xayats; i li<.< >
Dells at pagodas; making public roads, tanks, and w
planting trees for shade or fruit; keeping pots of cool i h'
water by the wayside for the use of travellers; feeding
criminals, birds, animaN, &c. 3, Bawana, or repeating
prayers, and reading relij^ious books.

Alms-deeds are meritorious according to the objects
on which they are bestowe<l, and proportioned to the
following scale :— 1. Animals. 2. Common labourers,
flshemien, &c. 8. Merchants and the upper classes,
when in necessity. 4. Priests. For alms of the first
class, the rewards are long life, beauty, strength, know-
ledge, and prosperity, during a hundred transmigra-
tions ; for those of the second class, the same during
a thousand transmigrations; for the third, the same
during ten thousand; for the fourth, a greater number,
but indefinite, being graduated according to the degree
of sanctity the particular priests may possess.

Many discourses said to have been delivered by Oau-

dama are given in the Bedagat. In these, the duties

of parents, children, husbands, wives, teachers, scholars,

, masters, slaves, &c. are drawn out and urged in a

manner which would do honour to any casuist.

The following is part of one of these discourses, ad-
dressed to a distinguished personage, who sought his
instruction how to avoid evil : —

" Know thou, that to keep from the company of the
ignorant, and choose that of learned men ; to give honour
to whom it is due; to choose a residence proper to our
station, and adapted for procuring the common wants
of life; and to maintain a prudent carriage, are means
to preserve a man from evil doings. The comprehen-
sion of all things that are not evil, the exact knowledge
of the duties of our station, and the observance of mo-
desty and piety in our speech, arc four excellent modes
of renouncing wickedness.

By ministering a proper support to parents, wife, and
family, by purity and honesty in every action, by alms-
deeds, by observing the divine precepts, and by suc-
couring relations, we may be preserved from evil. By
luch a freedom from faults, that not even the inferior
part of our nature manifests any affection for them, by
abstinence from all intoxicating drink, by the continual
practice of works of piety, by showing respectfulness,
humility, and sobriety before all, and gratitude to our
benefactors; and finally, by listening often to the
preaching of the word of God, we overcome evil incli-
nations, and keep ourselves far from sin. Docility in
receiving the admonitions of good men, frequent visits
to prierti, spiritual conferences on the divine laws,
patience, frugality, modesty, the literal observance of

the law, keeping before our eyes the four states into
which living creatures pass after death, and meditation
on the happy repose of nic-ban— these are distinguished
rules for preserving man from wickedness."

Pagodas are innumerable. In the inhabited parts
there is scarcely a mountain peak, bluff banU, or swell-
ing hill, without one of these structures upon it. Those
»f Pegu and Siam are all formed upon one model,
'huugh the cornices and decoration-) are according to
the builder's taste. In general they are entirely solid,
having neither lUior nor window, and contain a deposit
of money, or some supposed relic uf Uaudama. From
the base they narrow rapidly to about mid-way, and
then rise with a long tapering spire, surmounted with
the sacre<l tee. Sumo of the pagodas around Ava.
and especially those at I'aghan, are less tapering, and
more resembling ordinary temples.

Zayats are not excluiivvly religious buildings. Soma
are intended to contain Idols, and some are for the
accommodation of worshippers and travellers, and for
town-halls. The majority contain no idols, and ar«
intended unly to afford shulter fur worshippers and tra-
vellers. Sumo of these arc mere sheds, open on all
sides; but in almost all cases they are built in n far
more durable and costly manner than dwelling-houses.
"ry V'l'age has a ziiyat, where the stranger may
Stf V for many days, if ho please; and many
' ''luud lliem a comfortable lodging-place. Like

.1 of Ilindoostan, they are of unspeakable
• country destitute of inns, and where every
.las Its full complement of inmates. Many zayats.
eapt'cially near great cities, are truly beautiful, and
very costly. The ceilings and pillars are not only ela-
borately carved, but completely gilded, and the stucco
floors rival marble in hardness and polish.

Worship is not performed collectively, though crowds
assemble at the same time on set days, Kach one makes
his offerings and recites his prayers alone. No priests
officiate; no union of voice is attempted. On arriving
at the pagoda, or imago, the worshipper walks reve-
rently to within a convenient distance, and laying his
offering on the ground, sits down behind it, on his knees
and heels, and placing the palms of his hands together
raises them to his forehead, and perhaps leans forward
till his head touches the ground. This is called the
sheeko. lie then utters his prayers in a low tone, occa-
sionally bowing as before; and having finished, rises
and carries forward his gift, laying it somewhere near
the idol or pagoda. Some proceed first to one of the
great bells which hang near, and strike several times
with one of the deer's horns which always lie beneath.
When one goes alone, this is seldom omitted. There
are four set days in every lunar month on which the
people assemble L\ greater numbers at the pagodas to
offer their individual prayers. These days are at the
new and full moon, and seven days after each ; so that
sometimes their Sabbath occurs after seven days, and
sometimes after eight.

Boodhist priests are not a
caste or hereditary race. Any
one may become a priest, and
any priest may return to a secu-
lar life at pleasure. Thousands,
in fact, return every year, with-
out the least reproach. On be-
coming a priest, a yellow robe
is assumed, and celibacy, with
numerous mortifications, is en-
joined. Their office may be
called a sinecure, as they seldom
preach or perform any service,
except teacniug and giving spe-
cial religious advice. They are
of different degrees of rank, and
subsist entirely on the contributions of the people.
Their number is very great. Ava, with a population of
about 200,000, is said to contain nearly 20,000 priests.
In point of moral obligation, and the inculcation of
purity of life, Boodluim is infinitely superior to Hin-

407

Boodhist Prioit

CHAMBBRSm INFOBMlAiHON FOR THE PEOPLE.

(iQoiam, It has uo mytholojor of obscene and ferocious
deities, no sanguinary or impure observaucea, no seLf-
inflicted tortures, no tyrannising priesthood, no con-
founding of right and wrong, by making certain ini-
quities lauduble in worship. In its moral code, its
descriptions of the purity and peace of the first ages, of
the shortening of man's life because of his sins, &c. it
seems to hare followed genuine traditions.

At the same time, we must regard Boodhism with
unmeasured reprobation, if wa compare it, not with
other false religions, but with truth. Its entire base
is false. It is built, not on love to God, nor even love
to man, but on personal merit. It allows evil to be
balanced with good, by a scale which reduces sin to the
shadow of a trifle. To sheeko to a pagoda, or offer a
flower to the idol, or feed the priests, or set a pot of
cool water by the wayside is supposed to cancel a mul-
titude of sins. The building of a kyoung or pagoda
will outweigh enormous crimes, and secure prosperity
for ages to come. Vice is thug robbed of its terrors,
for it can be overbalanced by easy virtues.'

LAMA ISM.

In Thibet, Tartary, and other parts of Central Asia,
inhabited by the Mongolian race, Boodhism assumes a
different form and name, being more a religion of pure
priestcraft and external observance, and including a
belief in the continual personal presence of a supreme
Qod. This branch of Boodhism, as it is believed to be,
is usually called Lamaisin, the word Lama literally
signifying priest. Like Boodhism, this religion acLnow-
ledges no eternal, self-existent being. The idols, to
the number of 108, are representatives of created
beings, who ascended into the rank of gods before the
present world was created, on account of their holiness.
The chief god is Shigemooni, who appeared in the world
for the last time a thousand years before the Christian
era, and then instituted Lamaisra, with a visible living
representative of himself, called Dalai-Lama, or the
Oreat Lan.a. The worship of this Grand Lama, there-
fore, is a principal feature in the system of belief.

It is understood and inculcated, that when the Grand
Lama expires in the course of nature, his spirit imme-
diately takes possession of some other bod^ in a super-
natural manner, which it is impious to inquire into,
and is only comprehended by the attendant priests. In
point of fact, the religion which inculcates this absur-
dity is idol-worship under a different name, the idol
being a living creature instead of an inanimate object,
OS in ordinary paganism; and the whole system seems
to have been devised in order to support a numerous
host of priests and religious establishments.

Dalai-Lama, or the Grand Lama, is at the bead of
both ecclesiastical and secular affairs in Thibet, which
may be considered a theocratical state. The usual re-
sidence of the Dalai-T^ama is in two monasteries situated
in the vicinity of the capital, Lassa, in each of which
he dwells alternately. He is surrounded in every di-
rection by a vast number of priests; but no woman is
permitted to pass the night in the building where he
lodges. This arises undoubtedly from the purity which
is attributed to him, for ho is called the immaculate. The
natives, as well as a great crowd of foreigners (for au the
Mongol tribes in Russia acknovyledge aim), undertake
fatiguing pilgrimages in order to pay their homage to
him, and oDtiin his blessing, lie receives them sitting
upon a kind of altar, upon a large and splendid seat,
with his less crossed. The Tartars, next to the inha-
bitants of Tnibet, pay him the greatest reverence. They
cotne to him from the most distant regions, and the
princes, to whom he shows no more respect than to
others, submit to the same ceremonies as their people.
He salutes no one, never uncovers his head, rises up
before no one, and is satisfied with laying his hand
upon tlie head of his worshipper, who believes that he
has thereby obtained the pardon of his sins. His wor-
shippers believe that the supremo divinity lives in him,
that he knows and sees everything in the deepest re-
cesses of the heart, and never needs to luake inquiry
408

in regard to anything. If he does this, it is only that
unbelievers^ and the evil-minded may not have cause
for complaint. He sometimes .distributes, it is said,
little balls of consecrated dough, which the Tartars use
in many superstitious practices; but it is not true that
balls made from his excrement are distributed, pre-
served in golden boxes, and even mixed with articles
of food. His power was once greater than it is now,
and he appointed and deposed the khans; but at pre-
sent he is dependent on the emperor of China, although
the latter, in a religious respect, is subjected to him.
Two Chinese mandarins, with a garrison of 1000 Chi-
nese, are maintained in his capital, and in the palace
at Pekiu the Chinese emperor supports a subordinate
Lama, who is sent as a nuncio from Thibet.

When the Dalai-Lama dies, it is then necessary to
discover where his spirit has chosen to be bom anew.
In this case all must submit to the opinion of some of
the Lamas, who alone are aoquainted with the signs by
which he may be known, or, rather, who know what
child the deceased has appointed for his successor.
The worshippers of the Lama are divided, in general,
into two sects, known by the titles of the yeUow and
red caps. Each sect is under three Lamas; the for-
mer is under the Dalai, Teeshoo or Bogao, and Tara-
naut Lamas; the latter, under 'the three shammars.
The Dalai-Lama is the most distinguished of all, and
next to him is the Teeshoo-Lama, who dwells at Tee-
shoo-Loomboo, ten days' journey from Lossa. The
three shammars dwell in separate monasteries, the most
distinguished of which is at Tassasudon, the capital of
Bootan. Subordinate to them are numerous priests of
different ranks, who are held in great respect, who
superintend instruction, and some of' whom live in a
state of celibacy, according to certain rules similar to
those of the Christian monks. At Lassa alone there
are about three thousand monasteries.

MOHAMMEDANISM.

The reli,';;ion of Mahomet, or Mohammed, and called
Mohammedanism, partakes of a much more exalted cha-
racter than any of the mythological superstitions al-
ready adverted to, inasmuch as it approaches a pure
theism, or a belief in the one true God. This famed
religion, which now prevails in Arabia, Egypt, the
Moorish states, Turkey, Persia, and is extended in a
scattered manner over the countries of south-eastern
Asia, and numbers, according to common belief, more
than one hundred millions of followers, originated in
Arabia at the beginning of the seventh century of the
Christian era.

At this period, eastern countries were in a condition
to receive u new and vigorously-conducted form of re-
ligious belief. The scattered branches of the Christian
church in Asia and Africa were at variance with each
other, and had adopted the wildest heresies and super-
stitions. They were engaged in perpetual controversies,
and turn to pieces by the disputes of the Arians, SabeU
lians, Nestorians, and Eutychians; whilst the simony,
the incontinence, and general barbarism and ignorance
which were to be found amongst the clergy, caused great
scandal to the Christian religion, and introduced uni-
versal profligacy of manners amongst the people. While
Christianity, in the manner it was abused by unen-
lightened followers, was of little avail in civilising the
Asiatics, while the religion of the Jews was sunk into
comparative insignificance, and while paganism still
flourished in the East, Mohammedanism was introduced
upon the scene, and in a wonderfully short period of
time gave an entirely new cast to manners and form
of belief. Arabia being the country in which this new
religion was first promulgated, it is considered desir-
able to mention the nature of the religion which the
people previously professed and now abandoned.

' The ancient Arabs are supposed to have been what
are termed pure theists — that is, they are supposed to
have believed in and worshipped one sole, omnipotent,
and everlasting Qod. Uistoriaus, however, have scU

PAGAN AND MOHAMMEDAN RELIGIONS.

is only that
hare cauie
, it is wid,
Tartan use
ot true that
Ibuted, pve-
rith articles
n it is now,

but at pre-
na, although
:ted to him.
)f 1000 Chi.
1 the palace

subordinate

necessary to
s bom anew,
in of some of
. the signs by
• know what
lis successor.
1, in general,
le yellow and
nas; the for-
w, and Tara-
le shamniars.
>d of all, and
wells at Tee-

Lossa. The
sries, the most
the capital of
ous priests of

respect, who
horn live in a
lies similar to
la alone there

ed, and called

re exalted cha-

perstitions al-

laches a pure

This famed

p. Egypt, the

jextended in a

south-eastern

belief, more

originated in

jentury of the

dom correctly appreciated the meaning of these magni-
ficent expressions in the mouth of a savage. In his
mind such language is connected with ideas and feel-
ings far other than those which a civilised man would
express by it. These splendid epithets are the mere
expressions of flattery and fear. The Deity now ad-
dressed, and whose favour is the object of present de-
sire, is for the time the sole object of adoration. The
very same savage, who believes in a host of gods, will
address each of them by the term of The One. If
among many deities one is thought more powerful than
the rest, he will be the oftenest addressed, the oftenest
soothed by flattery. No epithet is so flattering as that
which asserts his single existence. It exalts him above
all beings, and leaves him without a rival. No epithet,
therefore. n°ll be so frequently employed. Being the
most constantly adored, this more pov,-erful divinity
will have this epithet expressive of his sole existence
so frequently connected with his name, that it will at
length be regularly attached to, and form part of, that
name. This was precisely the case with the Arabian
objects of worship. It is certainly strange that, when
complete evidence of this fact exists, really intelligent
and circumspect historians should have believed in the
pure theism of the Arabians.

Mr Sale, like many others, was deceived by pompous
expressions : — " That they acknowledged one supreme
Hod, appears (to omit other proof) from their usual
form of addressing themselves to him, which was this :
— ' I dedicate myself to thy service, O God ! — I dedi-
cate myself to thy service, God ! Thou hast no com-
panion, except thy companion of whom thou art abso-
lute master, ond of whatever is his.'" In the very
next passage, however. Sale adds, " They offered sacri-
fices and other offerings to idols, as well as to God,
who was also often put off with the least portion, as
Mohammed upbraids them." Their scheme of divine
government was simple, and like most others formed
in the same state of civilisation. One god was supposed
to be the supreme ruler; and subject to his sway was
a vast multitude of inferior deities. " The Arabs ac-
knowledged one supreme God, the creator and lord of
the universe, whom they called Allah Taala, the most
high god; and their other deities, who were subordinate
to him, they called simply Al Ilaliat, that is, god-
desses." Idols were set up anil worshipped; every field,
every rivulet, had its divinities. The fixed stars and
planets were also exalted into gods, and as such received
adoration. Heaven, moreover, was peopled with angels,
who, with the wooden, stone, and clay idols on earth,
were regularly worshipped. How the Arabians can be
supposed believers in a single godhead, uudnr such cir-
cumstances, appears extraordinary.

The manner in which these various divinities were
rendered propitious, at once determines the fact that
no very exalted conception of a divinity existed in tho
minds of these barbarians. Fasts, pilgrimages, sacri-
fices, long and unmeaning prayers, were the means em-
ployed to obtain the divine favour.

" They are obliged," says Sale, " to pray three times
a-day (some say seven times u-day) : the first, half an
hoar or less before sunrise, ordering it so that they may,
just as the sun rises, finish eight adorations, each con-
taining three prostrations; the second prayer they end
at noon, when the sun begins to decline, in saying which
they perform five such adorations as the former; and
the same they do the third time, ending just as the sun
sets. They fast three times a year : the first thirty
days, the next nine days, and the last seven. They
ofler many sacrifices, but eat no part thereof, but burn
them all. They abstain from beans, garlic, and some
other pulse and vegetables."

" The same rites," says a recent writer, " which are
now accomplished by the faithful Mussulman, were in-
vented and practiiied by the superstition of the idolaters.
At an awful dist.\nce they cast away their garments;
seven times, with hiuty steps, they encircled the Caaba,
and kissed the black stone; seven times they visited
uud adored the adjacent niountaius; seven tiiuea they

threw stones into the valley of MlnA, and the pilgrU
maj^e was achieved, as at the prer .nt hour, by a sacrifice
of sheep and camels, and the burial of their hair and
nails in the consecrated ground."' The Arabians had
many other superatitious practices ; they held their
women in a degraded condition ; and, though refined
in some points of manners, they had no written law,
were govenied despotically by chiefs, and were really
barbarians and idolaters. It was the debased religion
of this people which Mohammed designed to improve,
and we have now to see who this bold and ingenious
man was, and how he carried his plans into execution.

Mohammed was bom at Mecca, the capital city of
Arabia Felix, a. d. 509, during the reign of Noosheer-
van, sumnnied the Just, king of Persia, He was of the
family of Haschem, and of the tribe of the Koreish, the
noblest in Arabia. His father Abdallah was a younger
son of Abdalniotalleb, and dying very young, and in hia
father's lifetime, left his widow and infant son in very
mean circumstances, his whole substance consisting
but of five camels and one I'^thiopian female slave.
Abdalniotalleb was therefore obliged to take charge of
his grandchild Mohammed, which he not only did during
bis life, but at his death enjoined his eldest son, Abu
Taleb, who was brother to Abdallah by the same mother,
to provide for him for the future. This was very afTec-
tionately performed by Abu Taleb, who instructed him
in the business of a merchant, which he followed; and
to that end he took young Mohammed into Syria when
he was but thirteen years old, and afterwards recom-
mended him to Khadijah, a noble and rich widow, for
her factor, in whose service he behaved so well, that,
by making him her husband, she soon raised him to an
equality with the richest in Mecca.

It was after he began, by this advantageous match,
to live at his ease, that he formed the scheme of estab-
lishing a new religion, or, as he expressed it, of re-
planting the only true and ancient one professed by
Adarn, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and all the pro-
phets, by destroying the gross idolatry into which the
generality of his counti^incn had fallen, and weeding
out the con-uptioiis and superstiti' t^s which the latter
Jews and Cliristians had, as he ...ought, introduced
ir*;© their religion, and reducing it to its original purity,
which consisted chiefly in the worship of one only God.
lie hereupon began to affect solitude, usually retiring
for a month in the year to a cave in Mount Hara, near
Mecca. lie had indisputably a very piercing and sa-
gacious intellect, and was thoroughly versed in all the
arts of insinuation. The eastern historians describe
him to have been a man of an excellent judgment and
a happy memory; and these natural parts were im-
proved by a great experience and knowledge of man-
kind, and the observations he hud made in his travels.
He is represented as a man of few words, of an equal,
cheerful temper, pleasant and familiar in conversation,
of inofi'ensive behaviour towards his friends and ac-
quaintances, and of great condescension towards his
inferiors; to all which were joined a comely, agreeable
person, and a polite address — qualities of no small
service in prepossessing those in his favour whom he
attempted to persuade and govern.

' When the prophet was about four years old,' says
Alahmut the Arabian, ' accompanying the sons of his
nurse into the field, the blessed child retired into a cave,
at the foot of the mountain Uriel, to pray, when the
Archangel Gabriel appeared to him, and said, Bismillar
rahmanir rahimi; that is, " In the name of God, compas-
sionate and mercifi!', ch child greatly beloved, I am sent
to displant from thy heart the root of evil; for thy eja-
culations made the gates of Paradise to fly open ! " The
young resigned one said, " The will of thy Lord and
mine be done." Then the angel opened his breast with
a razor of Pv^ariiaiit, and, taking out his heart, squeezed
from it the black contagion which was derived from
Adam; and having put the child's heart in its place
again, he blessed him, and retired to the invisibles.
From that time the youug favourite of Heaven grew

CHAMBIERS'S INFOBHATIOS: FOR THS PEOPLI!.

up and prospered in all things, having the smile* of
God and man. He was under the tuition of his uncle
Abu Taleb, who, discerning the mark of an immense
soul in his young nephew, was more solicitous for his
welfare than if he had been his son. His fortune being
low in the world, he had no other way to provide for
his illustrious charge than by placing him as a factor
to Khadijah, a widow of the same tribe with Moham-
med, which was the noblest among the Arabians.'

Mohammed's marriage with Khadijah took place
when they were respectively twenty -five years of age;
and it was not till twelve years after this marriage
that he began to fabricate his imposture, in the cave
of Mount Uara, about three miles from Mecca, to which
he usually retired during the month of Ramazan, being
the time of Lent. At length, a.d. 609, when he was
fully forty vears old, he disclosed his prophetic mission,
at first only to his own wife Khadijah. He told her
that the angel Gabriel had appeared to him in glory,
and declared that God had commissioned him as an
apostle to reform the world; thai he then delivered to
him the Koran/or a Divine law, which should complete
all antecedent revelations. Khadij .a gained for her
husband an important proselyte in her uncle Waraka,
a Christian, who was well read in the Old and New
Testaments. He pronounced Mohammed ' to be the
great prophet foretold by Moses the son of Amram.' It
is much more probable that Waraka was the assistant
of Mohammed in composing the Koran than Sergius
the monk, or any other person.

The next proselyte was Abubeker, a rich and respect-
able inhabitant of Mecca; and his example being fol-
lowed by many others, Mohammed ventured on a bolder
demonstration of his mission. At a numerous assem-
blage of the Korcishites, at a public entertainment to
which he had invited them, he demanded who would
become his vizier, or prime minister, assuring them that
both happiness in this world and in that to come would
accrue to his followers. The guests remained silent in
surprise, when Ali, the son of Abu Taleb, a boy about
fourteen years of age, started up enthusiastically, 'Hnl
said, * I will be thy vizier, oh Prophet of God I I «ill
break the teeth, pluck out the eyes, rip up the belly,
cut off the legs of thine enemies.' The joy and approval
testified by Mohammed to the zeal of his youthful dis-
ciple, was an apt and early specimen what manner of
spirit he and his deputy were of.

The hostile proceedings and denunciations of the
prophet against their idolatry, at length aroused the
enmity of the Koreishites; but their threats were de-
spised by him, and, in reply to the prudent remon-
strances of his uncle Abu Taleb, he exclaimed, ' Though
the Koreishites 8ho.;!d arm against nie the sun and the
moon (alluding to tiie divinities whom they ignorantly
worshipped), the one on my right hand, and the other
on my left, I would not be shaken from my resolution.'
He, howover, retired for a while to a castle in Mount
Safa, and his followers were banished from the city of
Mecca. After this persecution, which lasted five years,
in the tenth year of his mission (a.d. 61lt), he sustained
a serious loss in the death of his uncle Abu Taleb; and
this was followed a short time after by the death of
his afiiectionate wife Khadijah, who hud so generously
made his fortunk. On account of these misfortunes,
this year was called the Year of Mourning. Instead of
linking under these adversities, however, upon being
violently urged by the Koreishites, who still derided
his pretensions, to exhibit some miracle worthy of their
belief, Mohammed ventured, in the twelfth year of his
mission, to publish tho revelation of his night visit or
journey to the seven heavens.

This event formed a striking epoch in his mission,
and displayed in the strongest manner the dexterity as
well OS boldness of his measures. The question so for-
cibly put to him of establishing his mission by miracles,
is therein artfully parried, and replied to by an appeal
to the wonders wrought by Moses, which did not cause
the reformation of Pharaoh, and to those of Jesus,
wliich failed with tho Jews; he also incidentally re-
410

marked, that miracles were designed r her to itrika
terror and to punish than to convince.

This famous journey is thus described by Mohammed :
While he was in the Caaba, or sacred square building at
Mecca, reclining on the sacred stone, the angel Gabriel
came to him ; he opened his breast, took out his heart,
and washed it in a golden bason full of the water of
faith, and then restored it to its place. The angel had
seventy pairs of wings, and had the beast Alborak with
him, on which the prophets used to ride; it was white,
and partly horse, ass, and mule, or a middle between
the two last, and went as fast as the lightning, which
the name Alborak, in Arabic, signifies. When he was
brought to Jerusalem by the angel, all the prophets
met him, and owned his superiority. He ascended to
heaven with the angel, on a ladder of divine light, and
left the beast Alborak at Jerusalem till he descended
again. He went through seven heavens before he came
to the throne of God, which was in the last one, and
Gabriel left him at the entrance of it, and waited till he
returned from conversing with God, who gave him the
ofi'er to be next himself; but he rather chose to descend
again to the earth to propagate his religion. His heavens
were all 600 years' journey distant from one another.
One was of silver, another of gold, another of emeralds,
&c. and the last of light. He met some one of the
patriarchs or prophets in each of them. In the first
ho met and discoursed with Adam; in the second, with
John the Baptist and Jesus; in the third, with the
patriarch Joseph ; in the fourth, with Edris or Enoch ;
in the fifth, with Aaron; in the sixth, with Moses; in
the seventh, with Abraham. Thence he was carried
up to Sedrat, the lotus tree, whence were the sources
of the four rivers of Paradise. He saw angels in the
likenesses of all creatures in these heavens. He saw
a great bull bearing the earth on his horns, and when
he shook his head there was an earthquake. There
was also a cock, which stood on one heaven, and his
head reached another ; his voice was heard through
heaven and earth, and set all the cocks on earth a-
crowing. He saw an angel of such stature that there
was 70,000 days' journey between his eyes. The pro-
portion of a man's height to the distance between his
eyes is as seventy -two to one; so that his stature must
then have been 14,000 years' journey, four times the
height of all his heavens together, in which he was
quite out of his mathematics. In the seventh heaven,
where God and Christ were, was an angel with 70,000
heads; and in eaoh heail 70,000 tongues, with which
he praised (jod. Gabriel accompanied him down from
heaven to Jerusalem, and from thence conveyed him,
with the beast Alborak, to Mecca; and all this was
done in the tenth part of a night. In the conclusion
of this extraordinary fabrication, he skilfully adds, that
when he was enjoined to repeat fifty prayers each day,
he intreated for his nation, and they were finally re-
duced at his intercession to five. To firigh the wonder,
he was returned back to the Caaba ero the crier called
him to prayers ; and ' thus,' concluded Mohammed,
* did I bring with me the prescribed number of prayers,
and lessened the burden for my nation.'

This story seemed so absurd and incredible, that
several of his followers left him on account of it; and it
had probably ruined the whole design, had not Abu-
beker vouched for his veracity, and declared that, if
Mohammed affirmed it to be true, he verily believed
the whole ; which happy incident not only retrieved
the prophet's credit, but increased it to such a degree,
that he was secure of being able to make his disciples
swallow whatever he pleased to impose on them for
the future. ' And I am apt to think,' says Sale,
' this fiction, notwithstanding its extravagance, was
one of the most artful contrivances Mohammed ever
put in practice, and what chiefly contributed to the
raising of his reputation to that great height to which
it afterwards attained.'

In this memorable year twelve citizens of Medina
■wore allegiance and obedience to the Prophet, whence
they were styled, by wayof dignity, il/.4iMar — that is,

l»AGAN AKD MOHAMMEDAK RELIGIONS.

• Tlie Defenders;' and the year a.d, 620 was denomi-
nated the ' accepted year.' On Mount Akaba, near
Mecca, seventy-three proselytes were soon after added
to their number, and swore to defend the prophet from
all insult, as they defended their own wives and chil-
dren. * If,' said they to the apostle of God, ' we be
slain in thy cause, what shall be our reward ? ' He
answered * Paradise,' ' Then ' said they, * Stretch
forth thy right hand,' and he did so ; then they took
the oath of obedience, promising rather to die than be
perjured. Mohammed now established twelve apostles
of Islamism, which was the name he gave to his reli-
gion, himself being the prime instructor and chief of
all the true believers ; and he then sent away the
Ansars, his followers, and his family, to Medina, for
security, and remained behind at Mecca, attended only
by Abubeker and his son-in-law All,

By the protection which his uncle Abu Taleb had
extended to Mohammed, he had been preserved thus
far from his enemies; but the charge and dignity of the
priest and guardian of the Kaaba having now, by the
death of Abu Taleb, become the post of a member of
the family of Ommiyah, a declared enemy to the family
of Haschem, to which Mohammed belonged, the Ko-
reishites, irritated and alarmed at the progress making
by the new doctrine at Medina, resolved to destroy its
author and chief support. Thl conspiracy was scarce
formed, when, by some means or other, it came to Mo-
hammed's knowledge, and ho gave out that it was
revealed to him by the Angel Gabriel, who had now
ordered him to retire to Medina. Whereupon, to amuse
his enemies, he directed All to lie down in hia place,
and wrap himself in his green cloak, which he did ; and
Mohammed escaped miraculously, es they pretend, to
Abubcker's house, unperceived by the conspirators, who
had already assembled at the prophet's door. They,
in the meantime, looking through the crevice, and
seeing Ali, whom they took to be Mohammed himself,
asleep, continued watching there till morning, when
Ali arose, and they found themselves deceived.

In the recesses of a cave near Mecca, Mohammed and
Abubeker eluded for three days the pursuit of their
enemies. * There ore only two of us,' said the appre-
hensive disciple, when he expected the pursuers to
penetrate their retreat. ' There is a third, even God
himself,' said his intrepid chief; * ho will defend us.'
According to tradition, Mohammed afterwards asserted
that a miracle was here wrought in his behalf; for
that his enemies, approaching the cave, found that its
entrance was covered by spiders' webs hanging from
the trees, which convinced them that no person had
entered it for a long time. After a perilous journey,
Mohammed entered Medina in triumph, being enthu-
siastically received by the Ansars, who disputed for the
honour of entertaining the prophet, and took hold of
the bridle of his camel. Mohammed then desired them
to let her take her own way, for she .was a stubborn
beast; which she t"ok accordingly, and stopped at the
stable of two rich orphans, Sahali and Sohaili, where
the prophet dismounted. This spot he purchased from
the orphans, after refusing their offer to bestow it upon
him, and Abubeker paid the money. He erected there-
on a mosque, and a habitation for himself, at which he
is said to nave laboured with his own hands. Medina
henceforth received the august title of Medinat al Nabi,
or the * City of the Prophet.'

The Mohammedan era, called the Hejira, takes its
commencement from the date of Mohammed's flight
from Mecca to Medina. The generality of writers place
this epoch on Friday the 16th of July, a.d, 622. It is
this event which has rendered Friday the solemn day of
the week for his follower:^; this choice also agreeing with
the customs of the Arabians, who held their assemblies
usually on the Fridays. The word Hejira is derived
from the Aiabic verb Ifajara, to abandon one's native
country, to emigrate on account of persecution ; which
conies from the Hebrew Hagar, the stranger or emigrant,
the name of Ishmael's mother.
It was from this period that Mohammed, having fully

ascertained the hate of hii enemies, and the extent of
his own power, proceeded to lay aiide the arts of per>
suasion and patient endurance, whereby he had hitherto
sought to propagate his tenets ; and elated by the de-
votion of his disc'ples and his reception at Medina, he
framed henceforth the revelations of the Koran in a
tone which proclaimed him a persecutor, and empowered
his followers to make war against all opposers. The
successful battle of Beder followed soon after ; and he
then made known those doctrines which have rendered
the arms of the Mussulmans so formidable — namely,
' that no one can escape his destiny ; inasmuch as the
man whose days are not complete, will escape unhurt
from a shower of arrows, when he whose fatal term has
arrived, cannot escape death by any precaution what-
soever.' The second incitative is that which the pre-
sent occasion furnished him with: — *The sword,' ex-
claimed the prophet, * is the key of heaven and of hell ;
a drop of blood shed in the cause of God, a night spent
under arms, is of more avail than two months of fasting
and prayer. Whosoever falls in battle, his sins are
forgiven: at the day of judgment his wounds shall be
resplendent as vermilion, and odoriferous as musk; the
loss of his limbs shall be replaced by the wings of angels
and of cherubim.'

This victory, the first of Mohammed's battles, was
gained, in the second year of the Hejira, over the idola-
trous Meccans, headed by Abu Sofian, in the valley of
Beder, which is situated near the sea, between Mecca and
Medina. Mohammed's forces consisted of no more than
319 men, and the enemy's army of near 1000; notwith-
standing which odds, he put them to flight, having killed
seventy of the principal Koreish, and taken as many
prisoners, with the loss of only fourteen of his own men.
This first victory, although it may seem no very consi-
derable action, was yec of great advantage to him, and
the foundation of all his future power and success; fo.*
which reason it is very famous in Mohammedan history,
and is frequently vaunted of in the Koran as an effect
of the Divine assistance, through the miraculous inter-
position of the Angel Gabriel. The gaining of the battle
was, however, wholly attributable to the extraordinary
stratagem of Moh&mmed, by his expedient, at the criti-
cal moment, of scattering a handful of dust against his
enemies, at the same time exclaiming, ' Let their faces
be confounded I' — which action so invigorated his faint-
ing followers, that they charged and overthrew their
foes. Mohammed captured the whole caravan, which
consisted of 1000 camels, richly laden, from Syria; and
this afforded him the means of rewarding .his followers,
and inciting them to further exertion by the allurr-
ments of wealth and the hope of plunder.

Some reckon as many as twenty-seven expeditions
wherein Mohammed was personally present, in nine of
which he gave battle; besides several other expeditions,
undertaken by his orders, in which he was not present.
His forces he maintained partly 'oy the contributions of
his followers for this purpose, which he called by the
name of zacat, or alms, and the paying of wh..'h he
very artfully made one main article of his religious
system ; and partly by ordering a fifth part of the
plunder to be brought into the public treasury for
that purpose, in which matter he likewise pretended to
be guided by the Divine direction.
_ In a few years, by the success of his arms, he con-
siderably raised his prophetic character and power.
In the sixth year of the Hejira, he set out with 1400
men to visit the temple of Mecca, not with any inten-
tion of committing hostilities, but in a peaceable man-
ner. However, when he came to Al Hodeibiya, which
is situated partly within and partly without the sacred
territory, the Koreish sent to let him know that they
would not peniiit him to enter Mecca unless he forced
his way ; whereupon he called his troopt! about him,
and they all took a solemn oath of fealty or hoiii.gii to
him, and he resolved to attack the city; but those- of
Mecca, sending Arwa Ebn Masud, prince of the tribe
of Thakif, as their ambassador, to desire peace, a truce
was concluded between taem for ten years, by which

411

CIIAMBEBffB INFCy&MATKnr FOR THE FEOriE.

Any petaon was allowed to enter into lea^e either with
Mohsmiaed or irith the Koreisb, as he thought fit.

Having subdued the chief pnrt of the pagan tribes,
and by his relentless severity exterminated the Jewish
classes who dwelt peaceably in Arabia, in the seventh
year of the Hejira (a.d. G'28), he assanied the state of
a sovereign, and sent embassies to the neighbouring
monarchs, exhorting them to enibmco lulamisiii.

In the eighth year of the liejira, a quarrel, real or
feigned, gave him the opportunity of possessing himself
of Mecca, and of the sacred square edifice called the
Caaba. Mohammed appearing suddenly at their gates
with 10,000 men, before the troops of Mecca had even
been apprised of his departure from Medina, they had
no choice left but an immediate surrender or destruc-
tion. Thus pressed, and menaced with instant death,
the Koreish submitted to the superior power of Moham-
med. Their final submission to him, and their accept-
ance of his faith, were ratified subsequently on the
hill El Safa. Having visited the holy building of the
Caaba, and broken in pieces the idols wherewith it was
encircled, Mohammed went in procession seven times
round the building, and touched respectfully the black
stone which was held sacred by the Arabs; then enter-
ing the edifice, he repeated the formulary, ' Ood is
great.' Afterwards he went to the well Zemzem — which
is believed by them to be the same that the angel
showed to Hagar — drank of the water, and performed
the required ablution. Artfully blending attention to
exterior observances with zeal, and pursuing a mixed
system of mercy and rigour, he subdued the hearts of
his high-minded countrymen, and soon superadded to
his claims of power the mote imposing and indissoluble
bonds of superstitious reverence and awe. The capture
of Mecca, and the submission of the powerful race of
the Koreish, was soon followed by the conversion to
Islamism of most of the remoter pagan tribes, until all
Ar&,bia bowed the neck beneath his yoke.

Mohammed, having thus become master of all Arabia,
made great preparations for the conquest of Syria; but
this vast enterprise was reserved for his successors. He
gradually, however, paved the way for their successes,
and brought the celebrated region of Arabia into one
complete and powerful union, lie established the law
which still obtains in all the Mussulman states, of im-
posing a personal tax on such subjects as do not embrace
Islamism. By this custom, still subsisting among all
the sovereign 1 who acknowledge the Koran, every re-
puted infidel pays a hharaj, or capitation-tax, over and
above the imposts which he supports equally with the
rest of the subjects. He absolutely prohibited all ido-
laters from making the pilgrimage to Mecca, or any
foreigner from entering the Coabn, uuJsr pain of death.
These were strokes of profound policy. He retained the
pilgrimage to Mecca, which had been of ancient stand-
ing among the descendants of Abraham and Ishmael.
Though he destroyed the images used at Mecca, as
objects of idolatrous worship, he carefully retained the
holy relics of the black stone and the supposed im-
pression of Abraham's foot. The black stone hod been
jtnmemorially venerated there ; the angels, it was said,
had brouglit it tohite to the Caaba, and the sins of
moukind hod transformed it to black. Hence, in allu-
sion to this stone, the Orientals use the familiar com-
pliments, ' May God whiten thy face ! ' ' May the shah
make thy face white !' kc.

These practices no loss forwarded the progress of
Islamism than did the sword of Mohammed. Every-
where the petty Ai»bi»n tribes overthrew their idols,
and submitted themselves to the new faith. Thus was
Mohammedanism established, and idolatry rooted out,
even in Mohammed's lifetime, throughout all Arabia ;
and the Arabs, being then united in one faith, and
under one prince, found thotnselves in a condition for
making those couqubsts which extended the Moham-
medan faith over so great a part of the world.

In the tenth year of the Hejira (a.u. C3l ), Mohammed
let forth on a solemn and pompous embassy to Mecca,
accompanied by oil his wiveSf and by at least 90,000
Hi

pilgrims. He sacrificed with his own hands sixty-three
victims, and liberated sixty-three slaves, in thanks-
giving for each year of his life; be shaved his head, and
scattered the hair amongst the multitude, who eagerly
seized portions of it, which they treasured as sacred
relics. He closed the solemnity with the following
apostrophe, which, as if pronounced from heaven, con-
eludes the Koran: — 'Henceforth, wretched and miser-
able sliall they be who deny your religion. Fear not
them, but fear me; this* day I have perfected your reli-
gion, and completed my grace toward you. I have
willed that Islamism be your religion.' He established
the lunar movabjo year, still in uso with the Moham-
medans; and finally, as supreme Pontiff, or Imam,
dismissed the people with a farewell, the last, as he
declared, that he should give them ; whence this pil-
grimage derived its name of the Farewell.

Mohammed, having returned to Medina, now drew
near the close of his extraordinary and fortunate career.
His health had been for three years on the decline;
but he hod neither relaxed his duties nor his labours.
Being nt length affected with a mortal malady, he was
conveyed to the house of his favourite wife, Ayesha,
where he expired, in the eleventh year of the Hejira
(a.d. 632), in the sixty-first year of his age. Of all his
wives, the first alone bore him any children, of whom
only his daughter Fatima, wife of Ali, survived him.

Having thus presented a sketch of the life of this
remarkable man, we proceed to a notice of the religion
which he founded. As already mentioned, Mchannned
must be viewed chiefly in the light of an improver on
the old modes of belief and practice of the Arabians;
and his merit (if we may so call it) in this respect
appears to have been, the combining of a variety of reli-
gious opinions into one form of faith, superadding an
implicit belief in his own prophetical character, and
enunciating the whole of his code in the writings of
the Koran. At the period of his death, he bore the
character both of a divinely-appeinted vicegerent and
of u secular prince, the latter being gained by his con-
quests; and his successors claimed the same double
qualification. After the prophet's decease, the elec-
tion of a successor occasioned considerable excitement,
his father-in-law Ab\ibeker, and his son-in-law and
cousin Ali, each claiming the office of caliph. Abu-
beker was finally successful in the competition, and he,
as is known to the readers of history, was succeeded by
the ferocious Omar. Ali became the fourth caliph, but
he wta summarilv out ofi' by poison; and from the long
contests which af'terwards occurred, it is difiicult to say
in what line the caliphate was ultimately settled.

The Koran, or prescribed record of the Mohammedan
faith, consists of 114 chapters, each with a distinct
title, but varying in length from a few sentences
to several pages. No continuous subject can be said
to run through the work, each ch.'-.pter being in tne
form either of a separate revelation, or treating of a
peculiar matter in faith, morals, or law. Among the
titles to the various chapters we find the following : —
The Cow; the Family of Imran; Women; the Spoils;
Jonas; Joseph; Abraham; The Night Journey; The
Cave; The Assembly; The News; Divorce; The Fig;
The Resurrection, &c. The whole is a singular jumble
of highly poetical passages, narratives characterised by
great simplicity and beauty of style, garbled extracts
from the Old Testament, and pious exclamations. The
praise of the Almighty is a prevailing theme in all parts
of the work, along with a deep inculcation of the prin-
ciple that Mohammed is the greatest of all prophets who
ever appeared on torth. The work certainly contains
much that is excellent m respects moral admonition,
but also a great deal that is incomprehensible and ludi-
crous. Mohammed did not live to complete his Koran
in the shape we now see it. With the assistance, un-
questionably, of a person versant in the Jewish Scrip-
tures, he from time to time, as was suggested by pass-
ing circumstances, composed his fragments, which he
declared to have been revealed to him from God by the
Angel Gabtiel; and these having been collected by his

PAGAN AND MOHAMMEDAN RELIGIONS. HO

followon, were, bv lucceeding caliphs, formed into a
volume entitled, by w»y of pre-eminence, Al Koran
(pronounced Kooraan), or The Book.

Whatever we may advance against the authority of
the Koran, it is certain that it has been received by
Mohammedans with a degree of reverence rarely wit-
uessed among Christians towards the Holy Scriptures.
In it they view the whole code of religious be'ief, civil
law, and moral obligation. The belief which they gene-
rally profess, as drawn from the Koran, consists in the
following leading points: — Religion is divided into two
branches — faith and practice, Faith includes belief in
Ood, in his angels, his revelations in the Koran, his
prophets, the resurrection and day of judgment, and
God's absolute decrees. Practice includes prayer, com-
prehending under this head the purifications necessary
before prayer, alms-giving, fastings, and the pilgrimage
to Mecca. The religion, as a whole, is called the reli-
gion of Islam, or Idamiam, ' The word idam — we
quote the Encyclopasdia Americana — signifies an entire
submission to the will of Ood, and thence the attaining
of security, peace, and salvation. This act is performed,
and these blessings ox'.- obtained, according to the doc-
trines of the Koran, by acknowledging the unity of
God and the apostleship of Mohammed. Every man
who makes this profession (aslama) is a Moslem — that
is, one who has entirely given himself up to the will
of Qod — ^and is on that account in a state of salvation
{galam). As it happens that MusUmani, the dual of
Muslim, is commonly substituted for the singular by the
Persians and Turks, the words Mussulman or Mussul-
mans, has in thosa, as well as in European languages, now
nearly superseded the shorter and more correct t<>nn.'

The notions of God and his attributes appear from
'^^he Koran to be just, and favourable to devotion. The
belief in angels is, however, mingled with many singu-
lar fancies. They ore believed to have been created
by fire, to have pure and subtile bodies requii ing no
support, and that there is no distinction of sexes among
them. The angels are supposed to have various forms
and offices assigned to them; some adoring God, sing-
ing praises to him, or interceding for mankind, while
others are engaged in writing down the actions of men,
carrying the throne of God, and performing other ser-
vices. The Mohammedans also believe that there are
two guardian angels appointed to attend upon every
human being, who observe and write down his actions,
and who are changed every day.

There ai'o four angels whom the Mohammedans be-
lieve to b more in the favour of Ood than any of the
others. Tiiose are Gabriel, who is sometimes called the
Holy Spirit and the Angel of Revelations, from his being
employed in writing down the decrees of God; Michael,
the friend and protector of the Jews; Azroel, the angel
of death; and Israsil, who is to sound the trumpet at
the resurrection. The devil, called in the Koran Eblis,
is supposed to have been one of those favoured angels;
but he fell, because he refused to worship Adam, with
the other angels, at his creation. In the eighteenth
chapter of the Koran, however, he is said to have been
one of the genii, a species of beings whom the Moham-
medans believe to be intermediate between angels and
devils. The genii are said to have been created, like
the angels, of fire, free from smoke; but, unlike the
angels, they eat and drink, propagate their species, and
are subject to death. Some are supposed to be good,
and others bad. In the seventy-second chapter of the
Koran, a company of the genii are described as believing
in the doctrine of Mohammed, on hearing him read it.
With respect to the belief in prophets, the Koran
inculcates the doctrine that Ood has at various times
given revelations of his will to several prophets, whose
books orii<;inally amounted to one hundred and four.
Of these, ten were given to Adam, fifty to Seth, thirty
to Enoch, ten t) Abraham, and the other four to
Moses, David, Jesus, and Mohammed. All these, except
the four last, they believe to be lost; and that, after
Mohammed, no other revelation may be expected. It
appears that they have some prayers of Moses, Jonas,

and others, a book called the Psalms, which consists of
extracts from our version mixed up with other matter,
and a history of Christ, said to be written by St Bar-
nabas. In this book, Christ is made to predict tha
coming of Mohanmied uncicr the .itle of ' Famous,' that
being the signification of his name in Arabic. Accord-
ing to tradition, there have 'jven from time to time no
fewer than 224,000 prophets sent into the world; and
of these, 313 were apostles, charged with commissions
to reclaitu mankind from the infidelity into which they
had fallen. Six of them — namely, Adam, Noah, Abra-
ham, Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed— were sentespecially
to promulgate new laws or dispensations. The Moham-
medans believe some of these apostles to have bceit
superior to the others; to the last six, for instance, they
give the first place. They believe them to have been
free fr^m great sins, although not perfectly pure, and
that they all professed the same religion. In this list
of prophets they introduce many whose names are men-
tioned in Scripture as patriarchs, such as Adam, Seth,
Lot, &c. and also many others who are not mentioned
in the sacred -rritings. But of all the prophets of God,
the Koran enforces the leading doctrine that Moham-
med is the greatest, and that his mission is to be be-
lieved in, under the most severe penalties. ' God will
render of non eflfect the works of those who believe not,
and who turn away men from the way of God ; but as
to those who believe and work ri;;hteousness, and . be-
lieve in the revelation which hath been sent down unto
Mohammed (for it is the truth from their I ird), he
will expiate their evil deeds from them, and will dis-
pose their heart aright. When ye encounter the unbe-
lievers, strike off their heads, until ye have made a
great slaughter among them; and bind them in bonds:
and either give them a free dismission afterwards, or
exact a ransom, until the warriors shall have laid down
their arms. This shall ye do.' — Chap, xlvii. From nume-
rous passages of this kind, the Mohammedans have
framed the well-known brief enunciation of their belief
— ' There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his
prophet,' a saying which is ever in their mouths, and
may be called their popular creed.

Regarding the resurrection, the Mohammedans be-
lieve that, when a dead person is laid in the grave, he
is received by an angel, who gives him notice of the
coming of the two Examiners. These are two black
angels, of a terrible appearance, named Mouker and
Nakir. They order the dead person to sit upright, and
examine him concerning his faith in the unity of Ood
and the mission of Mohammed. If he answer correctly,
his body is allowed to lie at rest, and is refreshed with
the air of paradise; but if he appear sceptical, they beat
him on the temples with iron rods, till he cries with
anguish so loud as to be heard by all except men and
genii. As to where the soul dwells after death, the
Mohammedans seem to have a variety of opinions,
which need not be particularised. Mohammedans are
also divided as to the nature of the resurrection, some
believing that it will be merely spiritual, others that
the body only will be raised ; but it is believed that all
who have ever lived will appear for judgment. It is
likewise believed that the irrational animals will be
judged at the resurrection, and weak animals will take
vengeance on the strong until satisfaction is given to
the injured. The Koran enjoins kindness to all animals
whatsoever, although it pronounces some to be unclean;
and it is allowed that the conduct of Mohammedans in
this respect far excels that of the generality of Christians.
It is supposed by the more orthodox Mohammedans,
that the books wherein the bad actions of a man are
registered will be put into one scale, and the good into
another, and according ns these preponderate, sentence
will be given. After this will follow the satisfaction
which every one takes of his fellow, or the retaliation
made by them for the injuries they have received. The
manner of giving this satisfaction will be to take away
from one man a portion of his good works, and give it
to one whom he has injured. * Which being done,'
says Mr Sale, 'if the angels say, Lord, we have given

413

OHAHBBBS'B DTFOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

to erery one hii due, »nd there remalneth of thii per-
lou't guod works lo much as equalleth the weight of
an ant, God will of his mercy cause it to be doubled to
hira, that he may bo admitted into paradise. If, on the
contrary, his good works be exhausted, and there still
be some to receive satisfaction from hira, Ood will order
an equal amount of their sins to be heaped upon him,
that ho may bo punished in their stead. The trials
being over, and tno assembly dissolved, the Moham-
medans hold that those who are to be admitted into
paradise will take the right-hand way, and those who
are destined for hell-fire the left ; but both of them
nmst first pass the bridge called in Arabic ul Sirat,
which they say is laid over the midst of hell, and de-
scril>e to be finer than a hair, and sharper than the
edge of a sword.'

The Mohammed'^ns believe hell to be divided into
seven apartments, designed for the reception of diffe-
rent degrees of sinners. The first is destined to receive
the wicked Mohammedans, the second for the Jews,
the third for the Christians, and the rest for other
sects and unbelievers. Over these will be placed nine-
teen angels, to whom the condemned will confess the
justness of God's sentence, and beg them to intercede
with him in their behalf. The punishment of infidels
will be continued for ever but wicked Mohammedans
will be released after a certain period of suffering.

Before entering paradise, the righteous will drink at
the pond of Mohammed, which is supplied with water
from the rivers of paradise. It is described as a
month's journey in compass, and whoever drinks of the
water will thirst no more. It is a matter of keen dis-
pute whether paradise is already created, many sup-
posing that it will be different from the paradise in
which Adam was placed. The mere orthodox opinion,
however, is, that it is the same, and that it was created
before the world. It is supposed to be situated above
the seven heavens, immediately under the throne of
Ood, and is described as a place of surpassing beauty.
The trunks of the trees are of gold, one of which, the
tree of happiness, will yield all sorts of fruit for the
consumption of true believers.

God's absolute decree and predestination of both
good and evil, is a doctrine which iMohammed always
took occasion to impress upon his followers. He said
that God had not only predetermined the adverse or
prosperous fortune of every person in the world, but
also his faith or infidelity, which fate it is impossible
by any foresight to avoid. By this doctrine, Moham-
med taught his followers to have the greatest contempt
for danger and suflfering, which feeling was of material
service to him in the propagation of his creed.

Of the four points of religious practice required by
the Koran, prayer is the first. Mohammed includsd
under this act purifications of the body, by total ira-
meruion at certain periods, and by washing the face,
hands, and feet, at others. To make his followers
punctual in the observance of these purifications,
Mohammed declared that the practice of religion is
founded on cleanliness, without which prayer would not
be heard by God. A Mohammedan is obliged to pray
five times in the twenty-four hours, at stated periods —
before sunrise in the morning, when noon is past, in the
afternoon before sunset, in the evening after sunset,
and before the first watch of the night. Public notice
is given of these periods by the mueziitu, or criers, and
every Mohammedan prepares himself for prayer. This
he performs either in the mosque, or any other place,
providing i* be clean, after a prescribed form, and with
a certain number of ejaculations, which he is on no
occasion to abridge, unless when on a journey or pre-
paring for battle. It is also necessary that he should
kneel in a humble posture, and turn his face towards
Mecca, as exprersed in the second chapter of the
Koran: 'Turn, therefore, thy face towards the holy
temple of Mecca, and wherever ye be, turn your faces
towards that place.' The direction of Mecca is pointed
out within the mosque by a niche on the outside, by the
■ituation of the doors and the iteepic; and tables have
4U

been calculated for finding this out when they hare no
other guide. A Mohammedan is also obliged to lay off
all costly parts of his dress before prayers, that he may
not appear proud. Females are not allowed to enter
the mosques along with the men, but they may visit
them at other periods.

_ The prayers of the Mohammedans consist chiefly of
pious exclamations, praising the greatness and goodness
of Ood ; and one of the more commun of these prayers
consists in a repetition of the first chapter of the Koran,
called the Fathat, or Belief. It is in these words:
' Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures; the most
merciful, the King of the Day of Judgment. Thee do
we worship, and of Thee do we beg assistance. Direct
us in the right way, in the way of those to whom Thou
hast been gracious; not of those against whom Thou
art incensed, nor of those who go astray.'

Alms-giving is a necessary part of the religious prac-
tice of Mohammedans. These consist of cattle, money,
corn, fk uits, and wares which can be sold. At the end
of the fast of the Uamadan, every Mohamn^edan is
obliged to give in alms, for himself and for every one
of his family, a measure of wheat, barley, dates, raisins,
rice, or other provisions. * The legal alms,' says Mr
Sale, * were at first collected by Mohammed himself,
who employed thorn as ' thought fit in the relief of
liis poor relations and followers, but ohieffy applied
them to the maintenance of those who served in his wars,
and fought, as he termed it, in the way of God. His
successors continued to do the same, till, in process of
time, other taxes and tributes being imposed for the
support of the government, they seem to have been
weary of acting as almoners to their subjects, and to
have left the payment of them to their consciences,'

Fasting is the third point of religious practice amongst
the Mohammedans, It consists in abstaining from satis-
fying the appetites; in restraining the ears, eyes, tongue,
hands, feet, and other members, from sin, and the fast-
ing of the heart from worldly cares, and thinking ot
nothing but God. During the month of the Ramadan,
Mohammedans are obliged to fast from the time the new
moon first appears till the appearance of the next new
moon. In this month they abstain from eating and
drinking from daybreak till sunset; and this injunction
they observe so strictly, that while they fast, they sufi^er
nothing to enter their mouths or the other parts of the
body, esteeming the fast broken if they smell perfumes,
bathe, or even purposely swallo ▼ their spittle. The
old and the sick are exempted from this fast ; but in
tht case of the latter, when they recover, they must
fast the allotted number of days. After sunset tho
people are allowed to refresh themselves — to eat, drink,
and enjoy the company of their wives till daybreak.
The more scrupulously devout, however, commence the
fast again at midnight.

According to the injunctions of the Koran, every
man is to perform a pilgrimage to Mecca once in his
life, except prevented by poverty or ill health. It is
clear that such an observance is altogether inapplicable
to the condition and situation of the great bulk of tho
human rac( ; and what is iin])ossiblo in human prac-
tice, can iiuver have been enjoined by the Creator,
Mohammed, it is evident, only thought of Arabia and
its neighbourhood, when ho planned this idle cere-
monial observance. Aware that, even within that
limited district, his followers would have a difficulty in
performing such a pilgrimage, he allows any one who
is wealthy enough, to hire and send a deputy; many,
we are inforineil, neglect this duty who cannot plead a
lawful excuse. The temple of Mecca stands in the midst
of the city, and is called the sacred or inviolable temple.
Within it are said to be the tomb of Ishmael, and a re-
markable bla<;k stone, which bears the mark of Abra-
ham's foot. This temple was held in great veneration by
the Arabians long before the time of Mohammed; some
""en say that it was built by Adam immediately after his
expulsion from paradise. To this place pilgrimages are
made from all parts where the Mohammedan religion is
professed. A number having collected from any par-

PAOAN AND MOHAMMEDAN BELiaiONS.

tioular diitrict, form themaeWes into a cararan for the
purpose of mutual protection, which is ^ery necessary
from the number of bandit tribes who infest the route.
The pilgrims meet at ditferent places around Mecca,
according to the direction in which they have come,
and are obliged to be there by the begin.iing of the first
month, called Dhulhajji.

* It is not,' says Mr Lane, ' by the Tisit to Mecca, and
the performance of the ceremonies of circuiting the
temple seven times, and kissing the black stone in each
round, and other rites in the holy city, that the Moslem
acquires the title of the hcu^i (pilgrim;. The final
object of the pilgrimage is Mount Arafat, six hours'
journey from Mecca. During his performance of the
required ceremonies at Mecca, and also during his
sojourn at Arafat, and until his completion of the pil-
grimage, the Moslem wears a peculiar dress called

by it. The Almighty was iti author, and he is all>wise ;
and moreover is as wise at one time an another. How,
then, shall we pretend to amend the Jivine ordination,
or fancy that he himself need amend it 1 The conclu>
sion it irresistible, provided the premises be allowed.
The nations who have assumed the Moslem faith have
consequently remain ad, atjd while they continue to
profess it must remain, barbarians.'

One of the worst features of the Mohammedan faith
is the degraded position whi :h it assigns to women.
This indeed forms a radical error in the constituiioa
of society in Mohammedan countries, and must be r««
moved before there ran be a steady advance in rational
improvement. Women are considered in evory respick
inferior to men. Few of t aem, even among the highest
classes, receive any instruction; they are carefully se-
cluded from public observation ; assigned in marriage

ehhram, generally consisting of two simple pieces of { without their own consent, on payment of a triiling sum

cotton, or linen, or woollen cloth, without seam or
ornament, one of which is wrapped round the loins,
and the other over the shoulders; the instep and heel
of each foot, and the head, must be bare; but umbrellas
are now used by many of the pilgrims. It is necessary
that the pilgrim should be present on the occasion of a
Khootbeh, which is recited on Mount Arafat in the
afternoon of the 9th of the month Dhulhajji. In the
ensuing evening, after sunset, the pilgrims commence
their return to Mecca, Halting the following day in
the valley of Mina, or Moona, they complete the cere-
monies of the pilgrimage by a sacrifice (of one or more
male sheep, he-goats, cows, or she-camels, part of the
flesh of which they eat, and part gi.e to the poor), and
by shaving the head and clipping the nails. Every
one after this resumes his dress, or puts on a new one,
if provided with such. The sacrifice is called el fida
(or the ransom), as it is performed in commemoration
of the ransom of Ishmael by the sacrifice of the ram,
when he was himself about to have been offered up by
his father ; for it is the general opinion of Moham-
medans, that it was this son, and not Isaac, who was
to have b^en sacrificed by Abraham.

The laws by which Mohammedans are govon^od are
in a great measure derived from the Koran. Where this
sacred book is silent, reference i? made to the traditions
of the prophet to direct the decisions of the judge.
Regarding the Koran as a book of jurisprudence, we
quote the followin,^ from the Library of Useful Know-
ledge: — * Nothing but the prejudices of education could
miike a reasonable man look upon the Koran r.s a book
of jurisprudence capable of conveying instruction to
any but a nation of savages. Deficient in form, deficient
in clearness, incomplete, it possesses not one single
quality requisite to a body of law. In the midst of a
vast farrago of nonsense, hidden amidst unmeaning ex-
planations and dark mysterious prophecies, there some-
times appears a command respecting the distribution of
property or the punishment of ofl^euders. But no ex-
planations are given — no regular description of the
means by which property may be acquired; no enume-
ration of those by which the rights to it may be lost, is
even attempted. The rights of individuals, in their
several capacities, to the services of others, are nowhere
distinctly mentioned; nor is there the most distant ap-
proximation to any systematic view of the several obli-
gations to which it was intended to subject the me.-nbers
of the community. As occasion prompted, or when a
dispute happened, Mohammed was accustomed to issue
a revelation, which answered for the immediate purpose.
But the original unwritten customs of the Arabs re-
mained in full force, receiving little modificatior. from
the decrees of the prophet. One advantage, and one
alone, he may be supposed to have originated — his were
written decrees; it was a commencement for a body of
laws, though a rude and imperfect one. This benefit,
however, is more than counterbalanced by the evil of
their being irrevocable. What the ignorant barbarian
instituted, succeeding generations have been obliged to
retain. No matter how absurd, how injurious the
decree, religion commandB the faithful Moslem to abide

in form of dowry; and are divorced at pleasure — all
which tends to debase their minds, and to produce the
worst kind of social vices. Polygamy and legal concu-
binage add to the evils caused by such practices. The
Koran allows a man to marry four wives, anu to mrin-
tain as m'jiy concubine slaves as he may choose. He
may divorce any of his wives at any mstant which
caprice or passion may suggest, merely by uttering the
emphatic words, * Thou art divorced 1 ' and she must
return to her parents or friends accordingly. He may
take her again as a wife, and again divorce her; and
even divorce her i third time, provided she has in the
interval been married to and divorced from another
man. Mr Lane, in his work on Egypt, says, that he
has known cases in which men have, in the course of a
few years, mamed as many as twenty or thirty wives;
and also cases of women who had been married to a
dozen or more men successively. In most instances,
we are told, a man marries no more than one wife ;
but as these practices are common, we can easily judge
of the depravity of manners which prevails in those
countries professing the Mohammedan creed.

From the manner in which females are treated, it
has been generally supposed by Christians that the
>^ohammedans believe that women have no souls. But
this is a mistake. Women are believed to have souls,
and are not to be excluded from paradise, though they
are there to perform offices of a subservient nature.
The meanest person in paradise, it is believed, ' is to
have eighty thousand servants, and sev?nty-two wives
of the girls of paradise, besides the wives ho had in this
world; that he is to inhabit a tent composed of pearls,
iacinths, and emeralds ; at meals he will be served in
dishes of gold; and ho is to be at liberty to drink freely
of the wine of paradise, whicli will not intoxicate.' In
such piomises of felicity, we have a striking proof of
the mean ideas of eternal happiness formed by the
prophet, OS well as of his knowledge of mankind.

The Koran forbids the use of wine or any intoxicating
liquors; and this is among the best injunctions which
it contains. Opium and other inebriating drugs are
understood to fall within the line of prohibition, tnough
not mentioned. The use, therefore, of either intoxicat-
ing drinks or drugs, is considered immoral in all Moham-
medan countries. Mussulmans f all ranks are reraark-
!>ble for their sobriety and t . ipurance in food. The
eating of swine's flesh is strictly prohibited; and indeed
most animals forbidden to be eaten by the Mosaic law,
are alike forbidden by that of Mohammed. All animals
used for food must be killed by cutting their throat; and,
in performing the operation, the butcher must say, < In
the name of God ! God is most great 1 ' Gambling is
also prohibited ; also usury, and the making of any
images or pictorial resemblances of anything that has
life. Perhaps the desire to extinguish idolatry influ-
enced the prophet in laying down the last-mentioned
law. Apostacy from Islamism is deemed a most heinoui
sin, and must bo punished with death.

The Mohammedan creed enjoins no sabbath, like that
of either the Jews or Christians, but selects Friday a*
a day in the week to be distinguished by more than

415

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

usual iolemnlty of devotion. Friday hai been pitched
upon, because it i» »aid .\<lani was cioated on that day,
and because the resurrection is prophesied to bo on
that day of the weoic. Perhaps a desire to avoid Satur-
day or Sunday, the days reverenced respectively by
.lews and Christians, may aljo have inlliienced its adop-
tion. Friday is culled JCl-d'oomuh, or The Assembly;
and on tho forenoon of that day largo congregations
assemble in the mosques, when, in addition to the usual
prayeis, a sermon or address is delivered, and lessons
read from tlie Koran, by the otficiating imdms. After
this servir?, all kinds ot work go on as usual.

All religions, above the meanest paganism, have pos-
sessed a body of priests or functionaries, to whvun the
knowledge of the faith was confided, and by whou. its
precepts were enforced. Considering that Mohammed
must have been conversant with the constitution and
import of tho Jewish priesthood, as laid down in the
Levitical law, and also ac<)uainted with the arrange-
ments of the (Christian church, it is remarkable that
he instituted no order of clergy, but, on tho contrary,
left his religion to bj professed by tho people at large,
without any dislinction as to rank or qualification. On
this account Mohammedanism has no priesthood, and
cannot be said to constitute in any country what we
understand by the term church. Wherever it is estab-
lished as tho religion of the community, mosques or
chapels have been erected, generally by endowments
from wealthy individuals; and these are individually
under the charge of a warden, who is custodier of the
revenues, and appoints tho ininisters of religion and
inferior servants. ' Two imdms,' says Mr Lane, ' are
employed to officiate in each of the larger mosques : one
of them, called the khateeb, preaches and prays before
the congregation on the Friday; the other is an I'lii^m
ratib, or ordinary iniAin, who recites the live prayers of
every duy in the mosque, at the head of those persons
who may be there at the exact times of those prayers :
but in most of the smaller mosques both these offices are
I>erfurmed by one inium. There arc also to each mosque
one or more muezzins (to chant the call to prayer),
and bowteabs (or doorkeepers); and several other ser-
vants are employed to sweep the mosque, spread the
mats, light the lamps, and attend the water-wheel by
which the tank or fountain, and other receptacles for
water, necessary to the performance of ablutions, are
supplied. The im&nis, and those persons who perform
the lower offices, are all paid from the funds of the
mosque, and not by any contributions exacted from the
people. The condition of the imams is very different,
111 most respects, from that of Christian priests. They
have no authority above other persons, and do not enjoy
any respect but what their reputed ploty and learning
may obtain them : nor are they a dUtinct order of men
Het apart for religious offices, like our clergy, and com-
posing an indissoluble fraternity; for a man who has
acted as im&ra to a mosque, may be displaced by the
warden of that mosque, and, with his employment and
salary, loses the title of imam, and has no better chance
of being again chosen for a religious minister than any
other person competent to perform the office. The
imdms obtain their livelihood chiefly by other means
than the service of the mosque, us their salaries are
very small, that of a kh.^teeb being generally about a
piastre (nearly '2^d. of oi r money) per month.'

' The Mohammedans,' continues the same authority,
' observe the utmost decorum in their public worship.
Their looks and beliaviour in the mosque are not those
of enthusiastic devotion, but of calm and modest piety.
Never are they guilty of a designedly irregular word
or action during their prayers. The pride and fana-
ticism which they exhibit in common life, in inter-
course with persons of their own or of a different
faith, seem to be dropped on their entering the mosque,
and they appear for the time wholly absorbed in the
adoration of their Creator.'

Mohammedans have an extreme reverence for a green
colour, which is used exclusively as the hue of turbans
ur other garments by those who claim hereditary de-
41«i

scent from the fair.ily of the prophet. European! gen»>
rally imagine the crescent to be a common symbol cf
Mohammedanism, ns the cross is of Christianity ; but
we believe this is founded on mistake. The crescent,
from a very early period, was a heraldic ensign of
Dy/antium or Constantinople, and has been appro-
Itriatud by tho Turks since their capture of that city.

The Mohammedans are generally affected with the
most superstitious reverence for imaginary saints and
' favourites of God.' They imagine th" idiots and
lunatics are under the immediate inspi..tiiun of Hea-
ven ; and, unless these be dangeroualy mischievous,
they are permitted all sorts of license. ' Most of the
reputed saints of Kgypt,' says Mr Lane, ' are either
lunatics, idiots, or impostors.' Any one who is deranged
by religious excitement becomes a toelee, or an especial
favourite of tho Almighty, and is supposed to be gifted
with supernatural powers. Almost every celebrated
saint, deceased, is honoured by an anniversary birthday
festival ; and on occasion of these festivals, many per-
sons visit the tomb of the saint, both as a duty and as
a supposed means of obtaining a special blessing. Be-
sides the various classes of saints, there are different
orders of duncccshes, or dervises, some of whom subsist
by begging, and others by performing at religious fes-
tivals ; a few devote themselves to religious seclution,
and gain a character for exalted piety.

Mohammedanism, from shortly after the death of its
founder, has been divided into two great parties or sects,
who split upon the disputes concerning the Caliphate,
or spiritual and civil supremacy, and received the name
of Sunniles and Shiiles. The Sunnites take their appel-
lation from the Sunna, or collections of traditions re-
lating to Islamisin, which they believe to be of c^ual
importance with the Koran. The term Shiiles signifies
heretics, which they are called by the opposite party,
from their misbelief. Tho adherents of the doctrine
that Aliy son-in-law of Mohammed, was properly his
successor, reject the Sunna. The Turks are Sunnites, and
the Persians are Shiites, and each hates the other with
implacable animosity. The Sunnites, we believe, are
reckoned the orthodox sect, and acknowledge the reign-
ing sultan as the true puccessor of Mohammed.

neeides differing as to the credibility of the Sunna,
and the successorship of the prophet, the Mohammedan
world is divided into four minor sects — the Ilhanqfecs,
Shafees, Malikees, and Hhambelees, being so oallM from
the respective doctors whose tenets they have adopted.
' The Turks,' says Mr Lane, * are of the first sect, which
is the most reasonable.' About the middle of last cen-
tury, a great schism, or attempt at reformation, broke
out in Arabia, headed by Mohammed, son of Abdel Wa-
hab, a pious and learned sheikh. Young Mohammed
claimed divine inspiration, and taught, like the Koran
(the doctrines of which he but partially received), tho
existence of an only God, the Creator of the world, the
rewarder of the good, and the punisher of the bad ; but
he rejected all the stories contained in the Koran, espe-
cially those concerning Mohammed, whom he considered
merely a man beloved of God, but branded the worship
of him as a crime directly opposed to the true adoration
of the Deity. He also condemned the ornaments and
splendour which are found in the mosques anO tho
sepulchres of pretended saints. In short, he stripped
Mohammedanism of all its trappings, and reduced it to
little else than a pure Theism. All who should oppose
this new doctrine were to be destroyed by fire and
sword. His doctrines being adopted by some influen-
tial chiefs, spread with wonderful celerity, and the
Wahabees, as his followers were called, shook the sta-
bility of the empire of the Turks in Asia. After a hot
war of many years, the Wahabees were suppressed by
Mehemet Ali, the late pasha of Fgy^t; but their doc-
trines are still far from being exterminated.

Of many of the extravagant superstitions connected
or disconnected with religious belief, and which have
prevailed both in ancient and modem times, a notice
will be fuuud in the following number.

1 miTAvn

^uropenni gene-
mon symbol (f
iriatianity ; but
The creiceiit,
nldic eiiaign of
as been appro -
> of that city,
fected with the
nary sainti and
th" idiot! and
>i..ttion of Hea-
dy niischievoui,
. < Most of tha
»no, ' arc either
who is deranged
:e, or an especial
osed to be gifted
•very celebrated
versary birthday
,ival», many per-
ns a duty and as
il blessing. Be-
cre are different
of whrm subsist
at religious fcs-
iigious seclucion,

r the death of its
A parties or sects,
ng the Caliphate,
eceived the name
take their appel-
of traditions re-
B to be of equal
m Shiites signifies
e opposite party,
I of the doctrine
was properly his
are Sunnites, and
tes the other with
, we believe, are
wledge the reign-
hammed,
ity of the Sunna,
he Mohammedan
—the Ilhanafecs,
[ng 80 oallM from
[ey have adopted,
c first sect, which
liddle of last ceii-
jformation, broke
sonofAbdelWo-
)ung Mohammed
,t, like the Koran
,lly received), the
of the world, the
|r of the bad ; but
the Koran, espe-
jom he considered
[nded the worship
he tr:^c adoration
le ornaments and
losques anO the
lort, he stripped
ind reduced it to
ho should oppose
lyed by fire and
by some influen-
|elerity, and the
1, shook the sta-
sia. After a hot
•e suppressed by
|t ; but their doc-
lated.

Ltitions connected
land which hare
times, a notice

SUPERSTITIONS.

Mankind have in all ages been prone to the most
lamentable superstiHons. Tho enlightened nations of
antiquity were no more exempted from them than the
most ignorant. The Jews, as we are repeatedly in-
formed in Scripture, could with difficulty bo restrained
from idolatrous and superstitious jiractices, and con-
fined to the worship and service of the only true Clod.
This remarkablo tendency of the Hebrew nation was
in all likelihood caused by their sojourn for tho space
of four hundred years among the Egyptians, whose
whole system of religion was a mass of idolatrous ob-
servances. They had a number of ideal gods, to whom
they erected temples of prodigious size and architectural
uplendour ; the principal of these deities were Osiris
and Isis, which are thought to have been typical of tho
Bun and moon. Hut they also ofTcred worship to various
animals, as the ox orbuil (hence the golden calf of tho
Hebrews), to which they gave the name of Apis ; the
dog, the wolf, the liawk, tne ibis or stork, the cat, and
other creatures ; they likewise paid adoration to the
Nile, personifying it in the crocodile, to which temples
were erected, and priests set apart for its service. Tho
Kgyptians, notwithstanding their learning (See History
OF Ancient Nations), also believed in dreams, lucky
and unlucky days, omens, charms, and magic. In a
word, they were grossly superstitious, and seem to have
had but a feeble conception, if any, of the laws which
regulate the ordinary phenomena of nature.

The Greeks and Romans possessed an equally insuffi-
cient idea of an omnipresent and omnipotent Ood, the
creator and ruler of the universe. Their notions of
divinity, like those of other Pagans, were grovelling and
contemptible. The gods whom they adored were ima-
gined to have been at one period rulnrs or heroes on
earth, and btill had their habitation somewhere within
the Grecian territory, or at no great distance from it.
Besides their belief in this vain mythology, both Greeks
and Romans put faith in divination, oracles, the magical
power of amulets, and dreams. Bees, ants, and various
reptiles and beasts, were imagined to have the power of
giving omens of good or bad fortune. The phenomena
of tho atmosphere and planetary bodies were likewise
•j, fartile source of superstitious delusions ; and so also
were ccHain signs or marks on the intestines of victims
slain as sacrifices at the altars. The mode of sacrificing
in Greece is worthy of observation. Bulls, goats, sheep,
pigeons, cocks, and other creatures, were immolated to
the gods of the country-. Sometimes th re was a heca-
tomb, or sacrifice of a hundred animals at a time, to
appease the manes or restless spirits of the deceased.
A notion prevailed that tho animals to be sacrificed
would show signs of satisfaction on being brought to
the altars, if die gods to whom they were offered felt
pleased with the oblation. On bringing forward a bull
or goat, the officiating priest drew a knife from the
forehead to the tail, at which, if the victim struggled,
it was rejected, as not acceptable to the gods ; but if it
stood quietly at the altar, then they thought the gods
were pleased with it: yet a bare non-resistance was not
thought sufficient, unless it gave its assent by a gra-
cious nod. To try if it would nod, they poured wat-
er barley into its car. Being satisfied with the sig
the priest proceeded to pour wine, and sometimes frui
and frankincense, between the horns of the victim, ana
afterwards struck it down, and bled it to death. Great
dexterity was requisite in striking down and bleeding
a victim; for if it did not fall at once upon the ground,
or stamped, or kicked, or struggled to be loose, or did
not bleed freely, or seemed to die with pain, it was
thought unacceptable to tho gods ; all these being un-
lucky omens. To the celestial gods, sacrifices were
made in the laoming about sunrise; but to the deities
No 77.

of the lower regions, who were supposed to hate tho
light of day, they were made at midnight. It was
customary on some occasions to danco round the altars
whilst they sang the sacred hymns, which consisted of
three stanzas or parts. Tho pouring out of libations of
wine to the gods, and a thousand other follies, were
perpetrated and believed. The appearance of cometi
and eclipses were ominous of great public disasters, it
being the general bclii.. that they were special signs
made to warn mankind of approaching troubles ; in
all which wc eee a lamentable proof of the follies and
weakness to which even a refined people may be ox-
posed if ignorant of the laws of nature.

The superstitious delusions of the Greeks and Ro-
mans may be said to have died out at the final dismem-
berment of the Roman empire, and tho overrunring of
western Europe by the Gothic nations. The introduc-
tion of Christianity also tended powerfully to root out
the old superstitious usages, though a few survived to
a later date. For these reasons, the superstitions and
matters of credulous belief which afterwards affected
the people of northern and western Europe, including
the British islands, were in a great measure of Scandi-
navian and Gothic origin.

SCANDINAVIAN SUPERSTITIONS.

The superstitions of the European Northmen, or Scan-
dinavians — under which term are included the early
inhabitants of Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Iceland
— were of t kind remarkably accordant with the cold
oud stern c laracter of the regions which they occupied.
Like tho ai cient Greeks, the Scandinavians had seats
of tho godi and of tho blest, which they called Asgard
and Walhai'a (or Valhalla), and these bore the same
relation in their character to the Olympus and Ely.
slum of the Grtsks, that tho countries of the north, with
their stormy clinics, their icy mountains, and perilous
waters, bore to tho perfumed and verdant plains of
Hellas, and the fair blue skies overhanging the smooth
Ionian Sea. Nothing could afford better proof of the
utterly fanciful nature of all these mythologies, than
the fact, that they were thus modelled and modified in
every case by the earthly habits, tho wants and likings,
the territorial poEition, and ignorance of geography and
astronomy, of the individual tribes among whom thoy
respectively origuiated.

The deification of one or more great princes or rulers
seems to have constit ited tho basis of the Scandinavian,
as well as of every c ther Pagan mythology. Odin, the
supreme deity of the Scandinavians, and the ruler of
heaven and earth, appears, like the Hellenic Jupiter,
to have been a distinguished chief and warrior of early
times. Although it is asserted by some thpt a divinity
of the name of Odin was worshipped from the most
remote ages, there is reason to believe that the worship
jf this personage, in the north at least, had its real
origin a few centuries before the commencement of the
Christian era, when a powerful chieftain of th- name
was driven by the Romans from his dominions between
tho Euxine and Caspian, and took refuge in Scandina-
via, the whole of which he subjected to his sway. Like
Moharjmed, this chief appears to have established a new
religion, of which he himself assumed to be the earthly
head, as the servant ar minister of a divine beingof the
same name. In the course of time, however, this dis-
tinction was entirely lost, an '» t^e persons and acts of
the divine and earthly Odin bcf ame inextricably blended
in the mythology and traditio- is of the north. The great
records of the religious and legendary knowledge of the
Scandinavians are the Eddns and Sagas of Iceland,
partly written in poetry an i partly in prose. Tho oldest
of the Eddas, a Bcries of poetical frngnicntB, was col-

417

OHAHBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

lected from oral tnxdltlon in the elerenth century, and
the othem are of later date. The acts of the deitiot
and horoei of the north, their lovoi and war», the orea-
tion of the world, and proi)h«tic rnvolatloni, form the
general subject of theio iiiows.

TheScanJinavians, like tlio Greeks, boltcvcd that the
universe wan originally a chaos, or mass of confuned
rapoura, peopled oy a race of Uinithuraar, orevil spirii
of gigantic bulk. A being of nobler nature sprang U|i
among these, named Itiire, from whom were descended
Odin and his two brothers Vile and Vo. Those younger
divinities followed exactly the same course with the
northern giants that was pursued by Jupiter and his
brothers with regard to the Titans, or older and gigantic
deities of Greece. Odin begun to war with the Him-
thtirsar, and having at last overcome their great chief
Y ler, ho created tho world out of that giant's body.
II L.s flesh became tho mould, his bones tho rocks, his
hair the vegetable tribes, his blood tho ocean, and hio
■kull the heavens, at the four corners of which wore
placed certain dwarfs, called North, South, Kiist, and
West, whose duty it was to sustain the celcHtial dome.
After this, tho luminaries of tho sky were set in their
places, and the order of the seasons appointed. Natt
(Night) wedded one of the Ascr, or celestial family of
Odin, and gavo birth to Dag (Day). These deities travel
alternately round tho world in cars, drawn by single
horses. Lvery great body, as in tho Grecian mytho-
logy, was represented by a divinity. Krigga, or the
Earth, was tho daughter of Odin, and also became his
wife. The inhabitants of tiic earth, or mankind, wore
created by Oilin and his brothers. 'I'wo pieces of wood,
the one of anh and tho other of elm, formed tho mate-
rials of the first pair of mortals, who were distinguished
for personal beauty and intellectual ability.

The race of deities inhabited Asgard, a place sup-
posed by some to haro been the city in Asia whence
tho real or mortal Odin was expatriated. The fabu-
lous Asgard was ])ictured as containing imnierous
palaces and halls, the largest of which was tho Man-
sion of .Joy, where Allfadcr (Odin) sat on his throne
amid his divine family. Tlii^ throne was named Lid-
skialfa, or tho Terror of Nations, at>d from it he could
OTerlook the whole earth. Two ravens, llugin (Spirit)
and Muninn (Memory), sat always at his ear, and com-
municated to him intelligence of all things that were
going on in tho universe. Among the deities who dwelt
in Asgard, one of the most important was Thor, or
Asathor, son of Odin by Frigga, and tho Alars, or war-
rior-god, of the Scandinavians.

Thor is described as tho god of thunder, and the
strongest of beings, earthly or heavenly. He is tho son
of Odin and Frigga, or, in other words," of the Sun and
the Earth. When ho moves, the earth trembles. He
holds in his hand a powerful aanimor called the Crusher
(miuliter), with which he annihilates all who oppose him,
and who offend the gods. In battle, Thor is always girt
with a magic ginlle, which has tho power of ins])inng
him with a divine fury, and redoubling his strength.
On his right band he wears an iron gauntlet, with which
he grasps and wields the formidable cruslier. This
latter instrument was forged by a dwarf named Sindri,
the prototype of the deformed blacksmith-deities of the
Greeks, Vulcan and his Cyclops. The hammer pos-
sesses the wonderful power of nc er missing its aim,
and when launched at any object, returns to the hand
of Thor, after having destroved his foe. Tlior is some-
times called Aukistor, or Thor of the Car, from his
riding on a chariot, drawn by two powerful he-goats,
named Sangniostr and Tangrisner. This deity has a
spouse named Sipia, famous for her beautiful hair.

After Odin, Thor was tho most cherished deity of
Scandinavia, and had statues and temples erected to
him everywliere. The btatues of him were usually
formed of clay, and represented a tall figure, with a
red-painted beard, indicative of the lightning which ho
was supposed to wield. Dread and meat were supplied
daily_ to the god by his worshippers, and at stated times
libations were poured out iu lus houour.
418

Daldor, the second son of Odin, was the most beauti-
ful and amiable of the Aser, or gods. Unlike the rest
of his brethren, ho was fond of peace, and had the power
of allaying tempests, and acting as a mediator, to avert
divine wrath. His decreet were irrevocable. In some
points ho resembled the Apollo of tho Greeks, but <Iio
general qualifier' of that personage found u i loser
I cpresentative in liraga or llragi, the god of eloquence
and poetry. Niord, the god of tho sea, and his son
Freys, tho god of rain, were also important deities of
the north, Fvery element, or important natural phe-
nomenon, was under tho guidance, in like manner, of
some celestial personage, Frigga, the Scandinavian
.luno, was tho bestowor of fertility and plenty. Freia,
or Freya, tho daughter of Niord, was the Venus of
Asgaril and tho patroness of matrimony, Freia waa
assisted in her duties by Siona and Sofna, the first of
whom made lovers faithful, while the other reconciled
them when they quarrelled. Eyra waa the physician
of tho gods. There were various other minor divi'iities
in the Scandinavian mythology, though not nearly so
many as in tho Grecian roll, I'lio deficiency was made
up among the northerns by the assignment of more
multitudinous duties to the greater deities. Thus Odin,
from the extent of his government, received as many
as one hundred and twenty distinct names, each indi-
cating some individual quality ascribed to him.

The great hall appointed for tho reception of tho
spirits of the brave, when they left earth for tho seat
of the gods, was called Valhalla. Twelve beautiful, yet
terrible nymphs, named Valkyries (chooiera of the ilatii),
were tho guides of the good spirits to the hall of Val-
halla, and supplied them with mead. Tho occupation
of drinking this northern nectar, and of eating the fat
of tho wild boar Serimner — which, after se-ving as tho
daily food of thousands, became whole again every
night — fillpd up all those intervals of time in Valhalla
that were ' ot passed in fighting. None but those who
had shown durpassing bravery on earth were admitted
into this Scandinavian paradise; and when there, their
daily amusement was to fight with one another till all,
or nearly all, were cut in pieces. But little harm was
done in this way, for the spiritual bodies soon reunited,
and enabled the warriors to appear, entire in lithe and
limb, at tho feasts that followed these extraordinary
engagements. The skulls of enemies were the drinking-
cups used at the entertainments of Valhalla, and tho
guests are described as being almost perpetually in a
state of inebriation. It was only when the cock an-
nounced tho arrival of morning that these terrible
heroes arose from table, to issue to the field of battle
through the five hundred and forty gates of Valhalla,
and hack each other to pieces anew. Such was the
never-ending round of employment destined for tho
departed heroes of Scandinavia.

Tho nivthology of the Scandinavians survived till
a much later date than any other system of heathen
worship in Europe. It was not abolished till thu
eleventh century. St Olaf, king of Norway, and a
zealous supporter of Christianity, usually receives thu
credit of having overturned this most barbarous form
of religion. In the course of his efforts to Christianisu
his subjects, ho ordered a statue of Thor, and the
pedestal on which it stood, to bo broken in pieces, and
showed the people that the meat which had been laid
down for the uso of tho god was not eaten by him, but
by a host of rats and other vermin that had formed a
lodgment about tho foundation of the colossal image.
Whatever might have been the influence of the mytho-
logy of the ^'andinavians in Britain, it disappeared
shortly after its overthrow on the continent of Europe,
or only linge-ed in a kind of traditional existence
amidst the remote islands of Orkney and Shetland, till
finally banished by the progress of a more general
intelligence. The dread names of Odin, Thor, and
other deities of the north, who for centuries weighed
down the human faculties, and kept up the reign of
superstition, are now only perpetuated in tho appella-
tions affixed to some of the days of the week. Thus

SUPEIISTITIONS.

the moit beauli«
Unlike the reit
111 had the power
lediator.to avert
Qcablo. Ill Koine
I (Irt'okg, but tlio
found II 1 Inser
god of eloquence
lea, and his lou
[lortaut deiliei of
lint natural pho-
1 like manner, of
;he Scandinaviait
d plenty. I'Veiu,
ras the Venus of
inony. Freia wai
Hofna, the first of
e other reconciled
vaa the phyBiciau
ir minor divi'iities
jgh not nearly lo
ficiency was made
Bigniiient of more
jitius. ThuiUdin,
received as niaii^
names, each iudi-
)cd to him,
) reception of the
earth for the seat
elve beautiful, jy«t
tooieri of the ilavi),
to the iiall of Val-
1. The ocoupation
d of eating the fat
ifter scviiig as tho
whole again every
)f time in Valhalla
ione but those who
irth were admitted
d when there, their
ine another till all,
lut little harm was
idles soon reunited,
entire in lithe and
hese extraordinary
were the drinking-
Valhalla, and tho
it perpetually in a
when the cock an-
that these terrible
the field of battlu
gates of Valhalla,
jw. Such was tho
t destined fur the

vians survived till
jystem of heathen
abolished till thu
of Norway, and a
isually receives thu
ost barbarous form
urts to Christianisu

of Thor, and the
Acn in pieces, and
hich had been laid

eaten by him, but

that had formed a
the colossal image,
lence of the mytho-
tin, it disappeared
jntinent of Europe,
iditional existence
y and Shetland, till
of a more general
Odin, Thor, and

centuries weighed
pt up the reign of
Xed in tho appella-

if the week. Thus

our terra W*dnt»daff is derived from Odin's or Wodin's
day, that being the day of the week in which the
northern Jupiter, or suprome ruler of the gods, was
most honoured and worshipped, Thurtday is from
Thor, the second in di;;iiity among those fabulous
deities : as this day was called Dies Jovis by the Uo>
mans, wo have hero a conllriiiatloii that Thor the
thuiidercr was equivalent either to Mars, or the thun-
<luring Jove of the Urocian mythology. Friday takes
its apiwllation from Freyu, tlio daughter of Niord, and
corresponds with tho Dies Veneris, or Venus day of
tho (Jreeks and Uoiuans, tiaturday is derived in the
same manner from tho god Saeter of the Scandina-
vians, and Saturn of the Ureeks. Tuesday, or anciently
Tiesday (a pronunciation still preserved in Scotland),
is supposed to be from Tisa, thu wife of Thor, and the
reputed goddess of justice. Sunday and Monday were
respectively named from the Sun and Moon, both by
the northern and southern nations of Kuropc, from a
remote period of time. The circumstance of there
heiug such a marked resemblance between the cha-
racters of tho deities whoso names were employed to
distinguish the same days of the week both by Oreeks
and Scandinavians, is not a little remarkable, and has
never, as far as we know, been the subject of explana-
tion by philologists or antiquaries. The fact is only
certain, that the names of tho days of the week now
used by every civilised people, are founded upon the
mythological observances of either the (Jreciau or the
Scandinavian races,

ANGLO-SAXO.V SUPERSTITIONS.

At a comparatively early era, the mythology and
minor superstitions of the Scandinavians, as well as the
follies of Druidisin, disappeared in Ilritain as tho fami-
liar superstitions of tho Anglo-Saxon race became
predominant. Like the Scandiuaviaus of the north, the
Anglo-Saxons deduced their descent from Odin, whom
they worshipped along with Thor, Freya, and other
imaginary deities of the (iothic people. They also
worshipped idols emblematic of the sun, moon, earth,
and various seasons and circumstances. In particular,
they sacrificed to one goddess called Kostre, in the
month of April, and her name still expresses the festi-
val of Easter in the Christian church. In token of
devotional feelings towards the sun, they solemnised a
festival to that luminary on tho day of December in
which the days began to lengthen, a log of wood being
burnt on the occasion, as an emblem of returning light
and heat. From this ancient practice, therefore, may
be traced the custom of burning the Yule log at Christ-
mas, which is still continued in many parts of England.
Among the Anglo-Saxon superstitions was included a
belief in giants, dwarfs, and elves, alt of a spiritual
order, but partaking in some degree of human attri-
butes and feelings. In the term eiji or elves, we have
one of the earliest traces on record of those ideal fairy
tribes who afterwards figured in the familiar supersti-
tions of the Uritish islands. The Gothic nations, of
whom the Anglo-Saxons were a branch, had various
orders of elves, who were understood to haunt the
fields, the woods, mountains, and waters, and received
denominations accordingly, as field-elfin, dun-elfin, &c.
Whether this varied race of spirits originaied in the
East, whence to many superstitions spread into ancient
Europe, is not satisfactorily known, although it is pro-
bable that they did, and were of the same genus as the
peri of the Persians, a being not dissimilar in character
to our fay or fairy. Hoth in the Scandinavian and
Anglo-Saxon superstitions, elves formed an important
order of beings, not unlike in character to the demi-
gods, naiads, dryads, and other imaginary spirits of the
(Jreck and Hoiuan mythologies, and, like them, exerted
a certain influ<;nce over human affairs.

Besides a belief in these mysterious elfin tribes, the
Anglo-Saxons brought with them to England the still
darker and more dangerous doctrines of witchcraft and
divination, before which the reasoning powers of the
people quailed, and all intellectual advancement was

impelled, Tho general introduction of Christianity about
tho year flUU, abolished, as a mutter of course, the grosser
I'agan observance*, but failed to extirpate tho niore
familiar and less obvious supcratitious of the people.
Witchcraft, wizardry, magic, divination, preparations
of charms, and other mystic follies having nu founda-
tion in truth, continued to tlourish, although rjiposed
both by thu more intelligent clergy and thu kings. It
is from thu statutes, indeed, whic'i Alfred, Canute, and
other moiiurchs passed for tho prevention of magical
practices, that wo chietly know their nature and extent.
Wiylucr, a, wi/.ard, and wicoa, a witch, arc persuni
severely denounced. Penalties are enjoined if any one
should destroy another by wicceorar/i. They appear
to have used f)hiltors; for it is declared a crime in any
one to uso witchcraft, or potions to produce another's
luve. Canute enjoins his people not to worship fire or
Hoods, wells or stones, or any sort of tree ; not to frame
death-spells, either by lot or otherwisu ; and not to
etfect anything by phantoms. Wizards, we also learn,
pretended to the power of letting loose tempests, and
cortrollhig thu visible operations of nature.

The introduction of Christianity, as has been men-
tioned, fu.lod to dissipate the familiar superstitions of
the English; a circumstance which can excite uo sur-
prise, as no pains were taken to enlighten the under-
standings of thu people, or make them acquainted with
the true causes of natural phenomena. Wo accord-
ingly find that from tho seventh to tho sixteenth cen-
tury the belief in demons, spirits, lubber-fiends, and
elves, of every shade and character, prevailed without
intermission, and with no further challenge from the
clergy than as being individually manifestations of the
devil, on whom now the whole load of superstition wos
bused. One goblin in particular formed the theme of
innumcrablo legends. What was his name originally
in continental Europe, whence he emigrated with the
Anglo-Saxons, is of little consequence; in England he
became known by the title of Father Hush, from a be-
lief that he had on one occasion personated a monk or
friar, and, to servo his own malignant purposes, had in
that capacity long imposed on a religious brotherhood;
afterwards, this appellation went out of repute, and
lie was pifjiularly known and feared by tho familiar
ii.ime of itobin Uoodfellow, and performed many use-
ful services in the rural districts. It is not a little
strange that both monks and clergy sanctioned these
fancies, and increased their number by the propagation
of legends, which we venture to say could not now
receive the approbation of a single individual, lay or
clerical, in England. Of these it is only necessary to
mention the absurd stories which were fabricated and
circulated respecting Dunstan, abbot of Glastonbury,
and afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, who died in
the year 98a. When a boy, he is stated to have studied
theology so sedulously as to reduce him to the point of
death, when he was suddenly restored by some divine
medicine sent to him by an angel in a storm. So ex-
traordinary a circumstance could not but demand
grateful thanksgivings, and Dunstan started from his
bed, and ran with full speed towards the church. Satan
met him in the way, surrounded with numerous black
dogs, and endeavoured to defeat his pious intention. But
Dunstan was not to be overcome; he instantly prayed
for ability, and was enabled to cudgel the devil and
his black dogs so etfectually, that they left him and the
angel together; the latter of whom, finding the church
door fastoned, took up the pious youth in his arms, and
conveyed him to his devotions through the roof. An-
other time the devil attempted to intrude himself upon
St Dunstoii's studies in his laboratory; but the saint
speedily punished his impertinence, by taking from the
fire his tongs, which were red hot, and with them seized
the nose of the fiend, who was thereupon glad to make
his escape. It is lamentable to think how such vain
imaginations should have so long weighed upon the
understandings of the people, and engrafted a habitual
dread of the supernatural, which till this day exerts
an influence oyer the untutored mind.

41»

CHAMDEnS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Fatrloi.

Among the rarloui iupeniAtur»l being* to whom the
Ignorance and eroilulity of mankind liiive given an
inmginnry exi»ti)nco, tlio l'iiirie» occii|.y a prominent
plaon, and are eipeciaiiy wurtliy of notice. Tlio cha-
racter* of ditlurent claitci of ipirits have becumo lo
mingled and confounded tof^etlivr in the Inpne of time,
that it it difficult tu dotinc individual apuciuv with cor-
reotneu and preciiion; but there ii one charactoriitic
which appear! to diitinguiih the fairy from every other
being ot a limilar order. Moit npiriti could contract
and diminiih tiivir bulic at will; but the fairy aluiio
leemi to have been regarded ua onaentially inmll in
lize. The majority of other spirit*, alao, auch a* dwarfa,
brownica, and the like, arc repreaontod iia deformed
creaturca, whereat the fairv ha* alinoat uniformly been
deicribed a* a beautiful miniature of the human being,
perfect in face and form. These point* of diatinctiun,
with a drcBS of puru green, are the principal feature*
which nerve to mark tlie ])ertonal individuality of the
fairiei aa u aupernatural race.

The origin of tho fairy lupontition i* aacribcd by
moat writerN to the Celtic people; but the blending of
the Clothiu tribe* with the Celt* led to the admixture
of many attribute* of the northern apirit* with those
pn)per to tho fairies. Thus the latter race, which ap-
pears to have been intrinsically good and benevolent,
ha* been gifted with attributes of tho very opposite
kind, borrowed from tho troll* and clve* of the north.
In t^-otland, and other countries where the Celtic tra-
dition* predominated, tho fairies retained in part the
original and better features of their character, and
were usually called the Qood Neighbuurs, or the Men
of Peace ; but even there their charui'tor was deteri-
orated by a considerable leaven of cltin or dwarfish
malignancy. This evil part of their nature caused much
annoyance to mankind, and more especially their pro-
pensity to the kidnapping of human beings. Unchris-
tened infants wert chiuHy liable to this calamity, but
sometimes adult men and women were also carried off.
The reason for these abductions is to be found, accord-
ing to the authorities on this *ubject, in the necessity
which the fairies lay under of paying ' kane,' as it was
called, to the master-fiend; or, in other words, of yield-
ing up one of their number septennially into his Lands
by way of tribute. They greatly preferred on such
occasions to make a scape-goat of some member of the
human family. They also carried oft' young ntnitied
women to be nurses to their infants; and in Ireland,
»t this day, when a young woman falls a victim to puer-
peral disease, the more ignorant of the country people
assert that she has been removed for this purpose.

The necessity for the latter kind of kidimpping shows
t^ fairies to have been family people. They are always
wpreseuted aa living, like mankind, in large societies,
and under a monarchical form of government. The
.Salique law seems to have had no countenance among
them; for we more often hear of fairy queens than of
fairy kings, though both are frequently spoken of. The
Land of Faiirie was situated somewhere under ground,
and there the royal fairies held their court. In their
palaces all was beauty and splendour. Their pageants
and processions were far more magnificent than any
that Eastern sovereigns could get up, or poets devise.
They rode upon milk-white steeds. Their dresses, of
brilliant green, were rich beyond conception; and when
they mingled in the dance, or moved in procession
among the shady groves, or over ■ he verdant lawns of
earth, they were entertained with delicious music, such
as mortal lips or hands never could emit or produce.
At the same time most of the leger;'tary tales on the
subject represent thetse splendours as shadowy and un-
substantial. When the eye oi a seer, or any one gifted
with supernatural poweTS, wa« turned upon the fairy
pageantries or banquets, the illusi>'n vanished. Their
seeming treasures of frold and silver became slate-
stones, their stately halls became damp cavenis, and
they tbemtelves, from being miniature models of human

beauty, became penoniflcationi of fantastic ugllnaM.
In short, the Fairy Fdon was a day-dream- a thing of
*how without ■ub*tance.

Tbi* i* tho general account given of the fairy state,
but few of tho tegenda on the aubjout agree on all
point*. From a ve>-pr early period, however, every fairy
annalist concurred in giving to the king ami queen of
the fairies the namni of Oberon and Titania. Oberon
is the Elb-rich, or Rich Klf, of the (iermana, ami was
endowed with hi* modern name, a* well a* with new
attribute*, by the old French romancers, who repre-
sented him a* a tiny creature of *uqia*iing loveliness,
with a crown of jewel* on hi* head, and a horn in hi*
hand that ict all who heard it to the dancinir.

It was the belief that uuchriatened children were
peculiarly liable to be carried otf by the fairiea, who
aometime* left little changeling* of their own blood in
place of the infant* of mortal kind. Ken Jonson, in
his ' Sad Shepherd,' makes the tending and nurture of
human changelings to be one of the favourite eltiii
employments : —

' There, In the stook* of tree*, white fay* do dwell,
And apan-long elvea, that dance about a pool,
AVlth each a llttio changeling In their arnia.'

Various charm* were used in Scotland for the ."estora-
tlon of stolen chihiron. The moat efficacious was be-
lieved to be the rousting of the supposititious child
upon live embera, when it was understood that the
false infant would diianpear, and the true one be left
in its place. It is to Iw hoped that this cruel and mon-
strous practice was seldom followed. Tho possession of
what aro called toadstones was also held to be an
efficient preservative against the abduction of children
by tho fairies. In Walilron'a 'Account of the Isle of
Man' we find various stories of children kidnapped by
the fairies. In one case, where a woman hud given
birth to a child, her attendants were enticed from the
house by a cry of ' Fire ! ' and while thov were out, the
child was taken from the helpless mother by an invi-
sible hand; but tho sudden re-entry of some of tho
gossips compelled the fairies to drop the child, and it
was found sprawling on the threshold. The fairies,
who seemed to have taken a particular liking to this
woman's offspring, triml to oarrv A\ hn second child
in the same way; but fail<'>! .^'luii. On a third trial
thev succeeded, and left b<t,iv„i thorn a changeling, a
withered and deforms '-twi'ure, which neither spoke
nor walked during an ' of nine years, and ate

nothing but a few li m to bo feared that this

changeling supersti < .^i, have been tho cause of

much deplorable it««1i*. That very member of a
family who, froiM natural misfortunes and defects, re-
quired the kindliest tending, would but too often be
neglected and wretchedly misused, on the plea of its
being an alien. We may smile at many of the credu-
lous fancies respecting tho fairies; but there are in this
order of superstitions, as in almost all others, some
points which strongly exhibit to us the baleful effects
inevitably attendant upon ignorance of every kind.

Numberless stories of a ridiculous kind have been
tuld relative to the intercourse of the fairies with
mankind. Some of the poor creatures arraigned in
Scotland in past times for witchcraft, aidmitted
having had correspondence with the fairies. There
can be little doubt that these wretched beings, whom
the torture forced into the confession of Home kind
or other of supernatural traffic, were induced to
admit an association with fairies, in the hope that
this would be looked upon as less sinful than a league
with the enemy of mankind. The trials of Hessio
Ounlop and Alison Pearson, in the years l,57(> and
158K, illustrate this statement. Bessie Dunlop avowed
that her familiar was one Thome Reid, the ghost of
a soldier slain at Pinkie in 1547, and who after his
death seem* to have become an inmate of Elf-land.
She related tkat this Thome Keid, who appeared fre-
quently to her in tho likeness of an elderly man, gray-
coated and gray-bearded, wished her to go with hira to

SUl'ERHTITtONM.

tlio fiiiry cmintry, luul k*^* )>«r herbi (o euro rkrioui
(liwiAMi. Ilfl avtli oiico brought to h«i' the i|ueen of
ths fktrioi, who, to tli<< coiil'mion of |io(<try, wki n fut
woiiiAii, fond of »lo, mill, in nliort, nu»t iiuliko the Tlta-
nin of ronmncp. Aliion I'ettrioii nlxi ndniitteil hur
f»niiU»rltv with the faiiiea, from whom the frequently
received herhi for the cure of diioiMv. It it reniark-
ublu that Pntriuk Adnmion.an ubio K^holArftud divine,
who WM created nrchbiviiop of St Andriiwa by Jikiueii
VI., actunlly took the nivdicinei preicriboil by thii (Kior
woman, in the hope that they would triuiifer nn illnoM
with which he wui luizud to the body of one of hit
horici. Thii fuat, it wiw beliovod, wiM occomjitiihed
by the luporiiuturul praacription. 'I'ho unfortunate
women who confciivil to thcie tbin>;a, were deceived
in the expectation ivhlch led to the act. Thoy could
not 10 luvo thoniaolvca : thoy were both convicted, and
periihod at the atakc.

It may not be improper in thia place to allude to the
fancioi of the pocti on the lubjoct of the fairiea. Shak-
aprare atanda pre-eminent in thia department. Hia
' Midaummer Niuhfa Dream' ia a poem of exr

(quiaite

beauty, and one correaponding in every rcapect with the
delicately-fanciful nature of the aubjoct. In ' Homoo and
Juliet' ho haa alao deacribcd an imnortant fairy, Cjueoii
Mab, who haa almoat dethroned Tttania of late yeara.
Mr Tonnonl'a ' Anater I'air' haa been of great avail to
the fame of Mab, Whoever chooaea to conault Dray-
ton and the poeta mentioned, will have the pleaauro of
observing and enjoying the exerciao of poetical fancy
of the higheat order on the aubject of fairies.

The aupcratitiona now dcacribed arc not yet extinct
in the Uritiah lulanda. In Ireland, the Scottiah Iligh-
lauda, and Walea, in particular, the fairies are yet ob-
jects of common belief. Kducation has not yet ahcd ita
enlightening intluenco there, and by <>diicatiun alone
can the darkneas of superstition bo diispcllcd. This is
almoat a truiam ; for superstition and ignorance ure
nothing else than equivalent terms. The spirit is
abroad, however, which will extinguish this remnant of
barbarism, and it is consoling to think so, for the ills
which have Uowcd from this source are numberless.

WITCIICUAl'T.

A belief that certain individuals possessed magical
powers, and could exercise a supernatural intluenco
over their fellow-creatures, existed in ancient Rome, and
those who practised, or rather pretended to exercise,
such arts, were punishable by the civil magistrate. It
is to bo observed that neither among the Uomans nor
the Pagan nations of northern Europe, was witchcraft
deemed an ott'enco against religion ; in some instances,
indeed, the witch wu* supposed to derive her powers
from spirits friendly to mankind, and her profession,
though feared, was held in honour by her infatuated
dupes. Upon the introduction of Christianity, witch-
craft assumed a new form, though retaining all its
old attributes. Instead of ascribing the supernatural
])owers of the practitioner to the gods, to Odin, to spirits
of good or evil qualities, or to supposed mysteries in
nature, the people imputed thcni to the great fallen
spirit mentioned in Scrijiture. This potent being, from
a wicked desire to destroy all that was good and hope-
ful in man's destiny, was believed to enter into a com-
pact with the aspirant witch, in which, for an irrevoc-
able assignment of her soul at death, he was to grant
nil her wishes, and assist in all her malevolent projects.
These new features in witchcraft, as we shall speedily
perceive, thoroughly changed and prodigiously extended
the superstition throughout Europe. From being rather
n sportive kind of jugglery, or trick in practical magic,
and at most only a civil offence, it was now recognised
as a crime of the deepest dye, meriting the most
severe chastisement which the ecclesiastical and civil
power could inflict.

Wo must here notice, however, that the demon or
master-fiend of the witchcraft; legends was a very dif-
ferent being from that great fallen spirit, held, in a
graver view of things, so deeply to influence the best

ink«resta of humanity. Aa thia auperitition gained force
in the Chriatiaii worll, which it did by alow and auccea-
aivo atopa through the whole of the middle ago!, or from
*ho fifth century till about the tlfteerith, the devil for
it ia impoaaiblc to avoid the meiitiun of thia emphatic
name, dlaaKreeablu aa it ia commonly said to b« to ears
polite gradually lo<t many of the former featurca of hia
character ; or, rather, a din'orent being was aubatituted
for him, combining the characleriatics of tho Scandina-
vian Iiokkewith thoKCdf a Satvrof the hoathen mytho-
logy — a poraonage equally wioVud and malicioua ua Ihu
atorner a|>lrit of evil, but rendered ludicroua by a pro-
penalty lor petty trlck> i'y,anil by audi poraonul endow-
menta aa a pair of lioriia, n cow'a tail, and cloven feet.
There can be no doubt that the demon of the middle
ages borrowed thcae allributes from hia btiinan repre-
aentativca in the old myatoriesand playa, where a laud-
able endeavour was niailo to make the evil one aa ugly
aa puasible. We are told, it ia true, that ho could at
will usaume any apccioua diaguiao that suited him, but
tho eye of tho initiated obaervcr could readily detect the
'cloven fool' — or, in other worda, |)cnetrato hia true
ehiirai'U'i'. Such as he waa,he played an important part
in the annals of modern witchcraft, which waa aup-
poacd to roat entirely on the direct and pernonal agency
of himaelf ami tho imps commisaioncd by him. Nor
waa this supposition confined to the illiterate, or to per-
sons of ])cculiarly credulous temperament. Authors,
distinguished for sense and talent, record with great
seriousness that tho devil once delivered a course of
lectures on magic at Salamanca, habited in a professor's
gown and wig ; and that at another time ho took up
house in Milan, lived there in great style, and assumihl,
ratUer imprudently one would say, tlio suspicious, yet
appropriate title of the ' Duke of Mammon.' Even
Luther entertained similar notions about the fiend ;
and in fact thought so meanly of him, as to believu
that ho could come by night and steal nuts, and that
he cracked them against the bedposts, for the solace-
ment of hii monkey-like appetite.

The ]iowors ascribed to this debased demon were ex-
ceedingly great. The general belief was, that through
his agency storing at sea and land could at all seasons
be raised ; that crops could be blighted, and cattle in-
jured; that bodily illnesses could be inflicted on any
person who was the object of secret malice; that the
dead could bo raised to life ; that witches could ride
through tho air on broomsticks, and triuisform them-
selves into the shapes of cats, hares, or other animals,
at pleasure. An old writer, speaking of the powers of
witches, says — ' I. Some work their bowitchiiigs only
by way of invocation or imprecation. They v-ish it, or
will it; and so it falls out. 2. Some, by Wiiy of emis-
sary, sending oi t their imps, or familiars, to crosse the
way,justle,airront, flash in the face, barkc, howle, bite,
scratch, or otherwise infest. 3. Some by inspecting, or
looking on, or to glare, or peep at with an envious and
evil eye. 4. Some by a hollow muttering or mumbling.
5. Some by breathing and blowing on 6. Some by
cursing and banning. 7. Some by blessiii^ and praising.
8. Some revengefully, by occasion of ill turnes. 9. Some
ingratcfully, and by occasion of good turnes. 10. Some
by leaving something of theirs in your house. 1 1 . Some
by getting something of yours into their house. 1 '1. Some
have a more speciall way of working by severall ele-
ments — earth, water, ayrc, or tire. But who can tell
all the manner of wayes of a witch's working ; that
works not only darkly and closely, but variously and
versivtilly, as God will permit, the devil can suggest, or
the malicious hag devise to put in practice V

In the present age of comparative intelligence, it is
dithcult to understand how human beings could be so
deplorably ignorant as to entertain such a gross super-
stition. We must, however, recollect that the belief
was greatly fostered by religious impressions, and that
it wits long considered a mark of impiety to doubt the
existence of witches. Various other circumstances
helped to cherish and magnify the error. The true
causes of the majority of natural phenomena wera

421

CHAUBEBS'S IN^OBttATIOK IfOB THE PEOPLS.

unknown. The nature of the atmosphere, and of cer-
tain meteoric appearance*— of the laws which regulate
■tormi at sea, and tides— of human maladies and. their
remedies — were enveloped in obscurity. Natural causes
being unknown, and the very doctnne of them unac-
knowledged, the weak and easily-terrified mind flew to
the conclusion that all evil proceeded from a power
malignant to man, and that, by certain impious deal-
ings, it was possible for man himself to direct that
power against his neighbour.

The superstition seems to have approached its height
about the end of the fifteenth century. In his bull of
1484, Pope Innocent charged inquisitors and others to
discover and destroy all such as were guilty of witch-
craft. This commission was put into the hands of a
wretch called Sprenger, with directions that it should
be put in force to its fullest extent. Immediately there
followed a regular form of process and trial for sus-
pected witches, entitled Mullein Maleficarum, or a
Hammer for Witches, upon which all judges were
called scrupulously to act. The edict of 1484 was sub-
sequently enforced by a bull of Alexander VI. in 1494,
of Leo X. in 1521, and of Adrian VI. in 1522— each
adding strength to its predecessor, and the whole serv-
ing to increase the agitation of the public mind upon
the subject. The results were dreadful. A panic fear
of witchcraft took possession of society. Eveiy one was
at the mercy of his neighbour. If any one felt an un-
accountable illness, or a peculiar pam in any part of
his body, or suffered any misfortune in his family or
afliairs, or if a storm arose, and committed any damage
by sea or land, or if any cattle died suddenly, or, in
short, if any event, circumstance, or thing occurred out
of the ordinary routine of daily esperience, the cause
of it was witchcraft. To be accused was to be doomed;
for it rarely happened that proof was wanting, or that
condemnation was not followed by execution. Armed
with the Malleus Maleficarum, the judge had no diffi-
culty in finding reasons for sending the most innocent
to the stake. If the accused did not at once confess,
they were ordered to be shaved and closely examined
for the discovery of devil's marks; it being a tenet in
the delusion that the devil, on inaugurating any witch,
impressed certain marks on her person : and if any
strange mark was discovered, there remained no longer
any doubt of the party's guilt. Failing this kind of
evidence, torture was applied, and this seldora failed to
extort the desired confession from the unhajipy victim.
A large proportion of the accused witches, in order to
avoid these preliminary horrors, confessed the crime in
any terms which were dictated to them, and were forth,
with led to execution. Other witches, as has been said,
seemed to confess voluntarily, being probably either
insane persons, or feeble-minded beings, whose reason
had been distorted by brooding over the popular witch-
craft code. A few extracts from the work of Dr
Hutchinson will show the extent of these miserable
proceedings: — •

*A. D. 1485. — Cumanas, an inquisitor, burnt foity-
one poor women for witches, in the county of Burlia, in
one year. He caused them to be shaven first, that they
may be searched for marks. He continued the pro-
■ecutions in the year following, and many fled out of
the country.

About this time, Alciat, a famous lawyer, in his
Parergu, says, "One inquisitor burnt a hundred in
Piedmont, and proceeded daily to burn more, till the
people rose against the inquisitor, and chased him out
of the country."

A. D. 1481J A violent tempest of thunder and light-
ning in Constance destroyed the com for four leagues
round. The people accused one Anne Mindelln, and
one Agnes, for being the cause oir it. They confessed,
and were burnt.

About this time 11. Institor says, one of the inquisi-
tors came to a certain town that was almost desolate
with plague and fiiiuiiic. The report went tliat a cer-
tain woman, buried not long before, was eating up her
winding-sheet, and (hat the plague would uot vea«e (ill

•he had made an end of it. This matter being taken
into consideration, Scultutui, with the chief magistrate
of the city, opened (he crave, and found that she had
indeed swallowed and devoured one-half of her wind-
ing-sheet. Scultetus, moved with horror at the thine,
drew out his sword and cut off her head, and threw it
into a ditcL, and immediately the plague ceased I and
the inquisition sitting upon the case, it was found that
she had long been •: reputed witch.

A. D. 1524. — ^About (his (ime ^, (housand were burned
in one year, in (he diocese of Como, and a hundred per
annum for several years (oge(her.'

From other authorities it is learned that the devas-
(a(ion was as grea( in Spain, France, and northern Ger-
many, as it was in (he Italian states. About the year
1515, five hundred witches were burned in Geneva in
three months, and in France many thousands. An able
writer in the Foreign Quarterly Review (No, XI, 1830),
sums up the following particulars respecting the execu-
tions for witchcraft in some of the German states: —

' In Germany, to which indeed the bull of Innocent
bore particular reference, this plague raged to a degree
almost inconceivable, Bainberg,Paderborn,Wurtzburg,
and Treves were its chief seats, though for a century
and a-half ailter the introduction of the trials under the
commission, no quarter of that great empire was free
from its baneful influence. A catalogue of the execu-
tions at Wurtzburg for the period from 1627 to Feb-
ruary 1629, about two years and two months, is printed
by Hauber in the conclusion of his third volume of the
Acta et Scripta Magica. It is regularly divided into
twenty-nine burnings, and contains the names of 157
persons, Hauber stating at the same time that the cata-
logue is not complete. It is impossible to peruse this
list without shuddering with horror. The greater part
of this catalogue consists of old women or foreign tra-
vellers, seized, as it would appear, as foreigners were
at Paris during the days of Mai'at and Robespierre: it
contains children of twelve, eleven, ten, and nine years
of age ; fourteen vicars of the cathedral; two bovs of
noble families, the two little sons of the senator Stolzen-
burg; a stranger boy; a blind girl; Gol:l Babelin,
the handsomest girl in Wurtzburg, &c. And yet,
frightfi'l as this list of 157 persons executed in the
short space of two years appears, the number is not
(taking the population of Wurtzburg into account) so
great as the Lindheim process from 1660 to 1664; for
in that small district, consisting at the very utmost of
600 inhabitants, thirty persons were condemned and
put to death, making a twentieth part of the whole
population consumed in four years.

How dreadful are the results to which these data
lead! If we take 157 as a fair average of the execu-
tions at Wurtzburg (and the catalogue itself st ites that
the list was by no means coniplete), the amount of
executions there in the course of the century preceding
1628 would be 15,700. We know that from ICIO to
1660 was the great epoch of the witch trials, and that
so late as 1749 Maria Ilenata was executed at Wurtz-
burg for witchcraft ; and though in the interval be-
tween 1660 and that date, it is to be hoped that the
number of these horrors had diminished, there can be
little doubt that several thousands fall to be added to
the amount already stated. If Bainberg, Paderbom,
Treves, and the other Catholic bishoprics, whose zeal
was not less ardent, furnished an equal contingent, and
if the Protestants, as we know, actually vied with them
in the extent to which these cruelties were carried, the
number of victims from the date of Innocent's bull to
the final exjinctiou of these prosecutions, must con-
siderably exceed 1 00,000 in Germany.'

Wltohoraft in BootlanO.
The mania respecting witchcraft, which sprang up
into vigour throughout southern Europe in consequence
of the edicts of >nnocent and Leo, spread in time to
Scotland, and acquired strong possession of the public
mind during tbe reicn of Queen Mary. At that period
ou act was passed py the Scottish Parli..mcut fur tho

BUPEBBTITIONS.

Itttopmiton and puniihment of witchcraft ; but thU
onl/ serred, m the fjapal bulla had done, to confirm the
people in their maniacal credulity, and to countenance
and propagate the general delusion. In terms of tliese
ill-iudged statutes, great numbers of persons, male as
well as female, were charged with having intercourse
with the devil, convicted, and burned on the Castlehill
of Edinburgh and elsewhere. This continued during
the earlier part of the reign of James VI., whose mind,
unfortunately for the more aged of the female part of
his subjects, was deeply impressed with the flagrant
nature of the crime of witchcraft. In 1590, James, it
is well known, made a voyage to Denmark to see, marry,
and conduct home in person his appointed bride, the
Princess Anne. Soon after his arrival, a tremendous
witch conspiracy against the happy conclusion of his
homeward ■^^.•yage was discovered, in which the prin-
cipal agents appeared to be persons considerably above
the vulvar. One was Mrs Agnes Sampson, commonly
called the Wise W{fe of Keith (Keith being a village in
East-Lothian), who is described as ' grave, matron-like,
and settled in her answers.' On this occasion, the king
was induced by his peculiar tastes to engage personally
in the business of judicial investigation. He had all
the accused persons brought before himself for exami-
nation, and even superintended the tortures applied to
them to induce confession. The statements made by
these poor wretches form a singular tissue of the ludi-
crous and horrible in intimate union.

' The uaid Agnis Sampson was after brought again
before the king's majestic and his council, and being
examined of the meetings and detestable dealings of
those witches, she confessed that upon the night of All-
Hallow-even, she was accompanied, as well with the
persons aforesaid, as also with a great many other
witches, to the number of two hundred, and that all
they together went to sea, each one in a riddle, or
sieve, and went in the same very substantially, with
flagons of wine, making merrie, and drinking by the
way in the same riddles or sieves, to the kirk of North
Berwick in Lothian; and that after they had landed,
took hands on the land, and danced this reil, or short
daunce, singing all with one voice —

" Cummer, goo ye before, cummer, goe ye i
GU ye will not goe before, oummer, let me."

At which she confessed that Geillis Duncan did goe
before them, playing this reil or daunce upon a small
trump, called a Jew's harp, until they entered into the
kirk of North Berwick. These made the king in a
wonderful admiration, and he sent for the said Geillis
Duncan, who upon the like trump did play the said
daunce before the king's majestic, who, in respect of
the strangeness of these matters, took great delight to
be present at their examinations.'

In the sequel of Agnes Sampson's confession we find
some special reasons for the king's passionate liking
for these exhibitions, in addition to the mere love of
the marvellous. The witches pandered to his vanity on
all occasions, probably in the vain hope of mitigating
their own doom. Agnes Sampson declared that one
great object wi'.L Satan and his agents was to destroy
the king; that they !iad held the great North Berwick
convention for no other end ; and that they had endea-
voured to effect their aim on many occasions, and par-
ticularly by raising a storm at Eea when James came
across from Denmark. ' The witches demanded of the
divell why he did beare such hatred to the king % who
answered, by reason the king is the greatest enemie
hee hath in the world.' Such a eulogy, from such a
quarter, could not but pamper the conceit of ' the
Scottish Solomon.'

The following further points in the deposition of
Agnes Sampson are worthy of notice: — '7<«ni,She went
with the witch of Carrieburn, and other witches, to the
kirk of Newton, and taking up dead folks and jointing
them [cutting off fingers, &c.], made enchanted powders
for witchcraft. Item, She went with other witches in
a boftt, the devil going befotc them like a rick of hay.

Item, The devil, in the shape of a dog, gave her re-
sponses concerning her laird's recovery, and endea-
voured to put awa ane of the ladies' daughters. Item,
She raised a universal great storm in the sea when the
queen was coming to Scotland, and wrote a letter to
that effect to a witch in Leith. Item, She used thia
prayer in the healing of sickness: —

" AU kinds of iU Oiat ever may be," ' ho.

The repetition of these and such-like verses by the con-
fessing witches, has been matter of frequent surprise.
But it must be remembered that a code of witchcraft,
extensively known and accredited, existed at that day,
regular forms and rules for its exercise having been
laid down in the course of time. It must be recollected,
also, that these poor creatures, though guiltless of all
supernatural intercourse, had really pretended to the
gift of healing by charms and incantations in many
ca«es, and hsd to invent or learn formulas for the pur-
pose. Besides, we find these doggerel scraps chiefly in
the revelations of Agnes Sampson. She, it is stated,
could write, and of course could read also; hence she
is to be regarded as r, person who had had superior
opportunities for acquiring a knowledge of the witch-
craft code, as well as superior capabilities for filling up
deficiencies on the spur of the moment. In her con-
fession she implicated one Dr f ian, otherwise called
John Cunningham, master of the school at Saltpans in
Lothian, a man whose story may be noticed at some
length, as one of the most curious and instructive in
the whole annals of Scottish witchcraft.

Mrs Sampson deposed that Dr Fian was always a
prominent person at the witch-meetings, and Geillis
Duncan, the marvellous trump-player, confirmed this
assertion. Whether made through heedlessness or
malice, these averments decided Flan's fate. He was
seized, and after being ' used with the accustomed paine
provided for those ofi'ences inflicted upon the rest, first,
by throwing qf his head with a rope, whereat he would
confess nothing ;' and secondly, being urged ' by fair
meanes to confesse his follies,' which had as little
effect ; ' lastly, hee was put to the most severe and
cruell paine in the world, called the bootes, when, after
he had received three strokes, being inquired if he
would confesse his actes and wi':ked life, his tongue
would not serve him to speake; in respect whereof, the
rest of the witches willed to search his tongue, under
which was founde two pinnes thrust up into the heade;
whereupon the witches did say, now is the charme
stinted, and showeil that those charmed pins were the
cause he could not confesse anything ; then was he
immediately released of the bootes, brought before the
king, and his confession was taken.' Appalled by the
cruel tortures he had undergone, Fian seems now only
to have thought how he could best get up a story that
should bring him to a speedy death. He admitted
himself to be the devil's ' register,' or clerk, who took
the oaths from all witches at their initiation, and avowed
his having bewitched various persons. In proof of the
latter statement he instanced the case of a gentleman
near Saltpans, whom iie had so practised upon, he said,
that the victim fell into fits at intervals. This person,
who seems to have been either a lunatic or aflSicted
with St Vitus's dance, was sent for, and ' being in his
majestie's chamber, suddenly hee gave a great scritch,
and fell into madnesse, sometimes bending himself, and
sometimes capring so directly up, that his heade did
touch the seeling of the chamber, to the great admira-
tion of his majestic.' On these and other accounts Dr
Fian was sent to prison, but he contrived soon after to
escape from it. * By means of a hot and hardo pur-
suite,' he was retaken, and brought before the king, to
be examined anew. But the unfortunate man had
bad time to think, and like Cranmer under somewhat
similar circumstances, resolved to relract the admis-
sions which the weakness of the body had drawn from
him, and to suffer anything rather than renew them.
He boldly told this to the king; and James, whom
these records make us regard with equal contempt and

CHAMBERS'S INFOBHAnON FOR THE PEOPLE.

indignation, ordered the unfortunate roan to be lub-
jected to tlia following iuo»t horrible tortures : — • Hii
uaUea upon all hii fiugers were riven and pulled off
with an imitrument colled in Scottish a turkan, which
in England are called a payre of pincora, and under
everie nayle there wa« thrust in two needles over, even
up to the heades; at all which tormentes, notwithstand-
ing, the doctor never shrunk a wb'.t, neither would he
then coufeste it the sooner for all the tortures in-
flicted OB hiui. Then was hee, with all convenie'''^
•peed, by commandemcnt, couvaied again to the toi-
nieut of the bootes, wherfin ho continued a long time,
and did abide so many blowes in them, that his legges
were crusht and beaten together as small as might bee,
whereby they were make unserviceable for ever.' Not-
withstanding all this, such was the strength of mind of
the victim, or, as King James termed it, ' so deeply
had the devil entered into his heart,' that he still
denied all, and resolutely declared that ' all he had
done and said before was only done and said for fear
of the paynes which he had endured.' As, according
to thi^ fashion of justice, to confess or not to confess
was quite the same thing, the poor schoohuaster of Salt-
pans was soon afterwards strangled, and then burned
on the Castlehill of Edinburgh (January 1591).

Much about the same time that Agnes Sampson made
her confessions, some cases occurred, showing that
witchcraft was axi art not confined to the vulgar. A
woman of high rank and family, Catherine Ross, Lady
Fowlis, was indicted at the instance of the king's advo-
cate for the practice of witchcraft. Ou inquiry, it was
clearly proved that this lady had endeavoured, by the
aid of witchcraft and poisons, to take away the lives of
three or more persons who stood between her and an
object she hod at heart. She was desirous to make
young Lady Fowlis possessor of the property of Fowlis,
and to marry her to the Laird of Bainago'./an. Before
this could be effected, Lady Fowlis had to cut off her
sons-in-law, Robert and Hector Munro, and the young
wife of Balnagowan, besides several others. Having
consulted with witches, Lady Fowlis began her work by
getting pictures of the intended victims made in clay,
which she hung up, and shot at with arrows bhod with
flints of a particular kind, called elf-arrow heads. No
effect being ihus produced, this really abandoned woman
took to poisoning ale and dishes, none of which cut off
the proper persons, though others who accidentally
tasted them lost their lives. By the confession of some
of the assistant hags, the purposes of Lady Fowlis were
discovered, and she was brought to trial; but a local or
provincial jury of dependants acquitted her. '"' :e of
her purposed victims, Hector Munro, was then ..lod in
turn fo. .onspiring with witches against the life of his
brother George. It was proved, in evidence, that a
curious ceremony had been practised to cfVcct this end.
Hector, being sick, was carried abroad in blankets, and
laid in an open grave, on which his foster-mother ran
the bi-cadth of nine riggS: and returning, was asked
by the chief attendant witch, ' Which she chose should
live, Hector or George { ' She answered, * Hector.' George
Munro did die soon afterwards, and Hector recovered.
The latter was tried, but, like Lady Fowlis, was ac-
quitted by a provincial jury.

These disgraceful proceedings were not without their
parallel in other families of note of the day. Euphemia
Macalzcan, daughter of an eminent judge. Lord Cliflon-
hall, was bunicd at the stake in 15!)1, having been con-
victed, if not of witchcraft, at least of a long career of
intercourse with pretenders to witchcraft, whom she
employed to remove obnoxious persons out of her way
— tasks which they aonoriipliBhed by the very simple
means of poisoning, where they did accomplish thoi.i nt
all. The jury found this violent and abandoned woman,
for such slic certainly was, guilty of participation in the
murder of her own godfather, of her husband's nephew,
and another individual. They also found her guilty of
having been at the Wise Woman of Keith's great witch-
convention of Ncrth Berwick; but every witch of the
day was compelled to admit having been there, out of
424

compliment to the king, to whom it was a source of
agreeable terror to think himself of lo much importance
as to coll for a golenm convocation of the powers of evil
to overthrow him. Euphemia Matalzean was ' burnt in
aasis, (iHtok, to the death.' This was a doom not as-
signed to the less guilty. Alluding to cases of this latter
class, a writer (already quoted) in the Foreign Quarterly
Review remarks, ' In the trials of Bessie Hoy, of James
Reid, of Patrick Currie, of Isobel Griersou, and of
Grizel Gardiner, the charges are principally of tiding
off and laying on diseases either on men or cattle;
meetings with the devil in various shapes and places;
raising and dismembering dead bodies for the purpose
of enchantments; destroying crops; scaring honest per-
sons in the shape of cats; taking away women's milk;
committing housebreaking and theft by means of en-
chantmeiits; and so on. South-running water, salt,
rowan-tree, enchanted flints (probably el^arrow heads),
and doggerel verses, generally a translation of the Creed
or Lord's) Prayer, were the means employed for effect-
ing a cure.' Diseases, again, were laid on by forming
pictures of clay or wax ; by placing a dead hand, or
some mutilated member, in the house of the intended
victim; or by throwing enchanted articles at his door.
A good purpose did not save the witch; intercourse
with spirits in any shape being the crime.

Of course in the revelations of the various witches
inconsistencies were abundant, and even plain and evi-
dent impossibilities were frequently among the things
firerred. The sapient James, however, m place of
being led by these things to doubt the whole, was only
st.-engthened in his opinions, it being a maxim of his
that the witches were ' all extreme lyars.' Other per-
sons cairie to different conclusions from the same pre-
:nist. . '^ before the close of James's reign, many men
of b- ' iu (0 weary of the torturings and incri-

ma' : took place almost every (fa^, in town or

"Oi- , .,a had done so for a period of thirty years
(b»twixt 1590 and 1620). Advocates now came for-
ward to defend the accused, and in their pleadings
ventured even to arraign some of the received axioms
of ' Daomonologie ' laid down by the king himself, in a
book bearing that name. The removal of James to
England moderated, but did not altogether stop the
witch prosecutions. After his death they slackened
more considerably. Only eight witchcraft cases are on
the Record as having occurred between 1625 and 1640
in Scotland, and in one of these coses, remarkable to
tell, the accused escaped. The mania, us it appears,
was beginning to wear itself out.

As the spirit of puritanism gained strength, however,
which it gradually did during the latter part of the
reign of Charles I., the partially-cleared horizon be-
came again overcast, and again was this owing to ill-
judgod edicts, which, by indicating the belief of the
great and the educated in witchcraft, had the natural
eflect of reviving the frenzy itniong the flexible popu-
lace. The General Assembly was the body in fault on
this occasion, and from this time forward the clergy
were the great witch-hunters in Scotland. The As-
sembly passed condemnatory acts in 1640, 1643, 1644,
1645, and 1649, and with every successive act the cases
aijd convictions iiicreased, with even a deeper degree of
attendant horrors than at any previous time. * The
old impossible and abominable fancies,' says the review
formerly quoted, ' of the Mallexis were revived. About
thirty trials appear on the Record between 1649 and
the Restoration, only one of which appears to have ter-
minated in an acquittal; while at a single circuit, held
at Glasgow, Stirling, and Ayr, in 1659, seventeen per-
sons were convicted and burnt for this crime,'

It nmst be remembered, however, that the phrase 'on
the Record' alludes only to justiciary trials, which formed
but a small proportion of the cases really tried. The
justiciary lists tuko no note of the commissions perpe-
tually given by the {irivy-council to resident gentlemen
and clergymen to try and hum witches in their respec-
tive districts. These commissions executed people over
the whole country iu multitudes. Wodrow, Lament,

.. >

BUPERSTITtONS.

U8 it appears.

Mercer, Wbitelocke, and other chroniclerB, prove this
but too satisfactorily.

The clergy continued, after the Restoration, to pur-
sue these imaginary criminals with a zeal altogp'.ber
deplorable. The Justiciary Court condemned twenty
persons in the first year of Charles II.'s reign (1661);
and in one day of the same year the council issued
fourteen new provincial commissions, the aggregate
doings of which one shudders to guess at. To compute
their condemnations would be impossible, for victim
after victim perished at the stake, unnamed and un-
heard of. Morayshire became at this particular period
the scene of a violent fit of the great moral frenzy, and
some of the mout remarkable examinations signalising
the whole course of Scottinh witchcraft took place in
that county. The details, though occasionally ludicrous
from their absurdity, are too horrible for narration in
the present pages.

The popular frenzy seems to have exhausted itself
by its own virulence in 1601-62; for un interval of six
years subsequently elapsed without a single justiciary
trial for the crime of witchcraft, and one fellow was
actually whipped for charging some person with it.
After this period, the dying embers of the delusion only
burst out on occasions, here and there, into a momen-
tary flame. In 1678, several women were condemned,
* on their own confession,' says the Register; but we
suspect this only means in reality that one malicious
being made voluntary admissions involviuf, others, as
must often have beer, the case, Tte fear, in these pro-
ceedings. Scattered ca es took place near the 'u?ginning
of the eighteenth centiry; such as those at Jt'aidey in
1G!)7, at Pittenweem in 1704, and at Spott about the
same time. It is curious that as something like di-
rect evidence became necessary for condemnation, that
evidence presented it<»>1f, and in the shape of possessed
or enchanted young parsons, who were brought into
court to play oif their tricks. The most striking case
of this nature was that of Christian Shaw, a ^'irl about
eleven years old, and the daughter of Mr Shaw of
Bargarran in Rer frewshire. This wretched girl, who
seoms to hn.ve be. n an accomplished hypocrite, young
as she was, quav-elled with a maid-servant, and to be
revenged, fell into convulsions, saw spirits, and, in
short, feigned herself V^witched. To sustain her story,
sho accused one p r'jn after another, till not less than
twenty were implic ited, some of them children of the
ages of twelve and fourteen ! They were tried on the
evidence of the girl, and five human beings perished
through her malicious impostures. It is remarkable
that this very girl after^vards founded the thread manu-
facture in Renfrewshire. From a friend who had bcon
in Holland, she learned some secrets in spinning, and
putting them skilfully in practice, she led the way to
the extensive operations carried on in that department
of late years. She became the wife of the minister of
Kilmaurs, and it is to be hoped, had leisure and grace
to repent of the wicked misapplication, in her youth,
of those talents which she undoubtedly possessed.

The last justiciary trial for witchcraft in Scotland
was in the case of Elspeth Rule, who was convicted in
1708, and — banished. The last regular execution for
the crime is said to have taken place at Dornoch in
1722, when an old woman was condemned by David
Ross, shcriiTof Caithness. Rut we fear the provincial
records of ihe north, if inquired into, would show later
deaths on thii score. However, here may be held to
end the tragic .il part of the annals of Scottish witchcraft.
The numhjr of its victims, for reasons previously
stated, il would be difficult accurately to compute; but
the black scroll would include, according to those ivho
hav.3 most attentively inquired into the subject, upwards
of Fouft TH0U8.\ND persons! And by what a fate they
lierishcdl Cruelly tortured while living, and dismissed
i.'om life by a livnig death amid the flames! And fur
wii'it ? For an impossible crime ! And who were the
victims, and who the executioners) The victims, in
by far the nuijority of cases, were the aged, the weak,
the deformed, the laiuc, and the blind; those to whom

nature had been ungentle in her outward gifts, 6t whom
years and infirmities had doomed to povertjr and wretch-
edness; exactly that class of miserable beings, in short,
for whom more enlightened times provide houses of
refuge, and endow charitable institutions, aiming, in
the spirit of true benevolence, to supply to them that
attention and support which nature or circumstances
have denied them the power of procuring for them-
selves. Often, too, was the victim a person distin-
guished by particular gifts and endowments ; gifts
bestowed by the Creator in kindness, but rendered fatal
to the possessor by man. These were the victims of
witchcraft. The execu'ioners were the wisest and
greatest of their.time. Men distinguished above their
fellows for knowledge and intelligence, ministers of
religion and of ihe laws, kings, princes, and nobles —
these, and such as these, judged of the crime, pro-
nounced the doom, .tnd Eeut the poor victims of delu-
sion to the torture, the stake, and the scuflfold.

Witchcraft in England.
Witchcraft was first denounced in England, by formal
and explicit statutes, in the year 1541, in the reign of
Henry VIII, Previously to that time many wjtch-
trials had taken place, and severe punishments hod even
been inflicted on the parties concerned; but this was
occasioned by the direction of the ■i.tts of sorcery, in these
particular instances, against thv; lives and wellbeing of
others, and not from the legal criminality of such arts
themselves. Shakspeare has made some early cases of
this nature familiar to us, and in particular that of the
Duchess of Gloucester, who, for conspiring with witches
against the life of the reigning sovereign, Henry VI.,
was compelled to do public penance, and imprisoned
for life. But, as has been said, the mode of prosecut-
ing the guilty purpose was here altogether a subsidiary
matter. If a person waved his hat three times in the
air, and three times cried * Buzz ! ' under the impres-
sion that by that formula the life of another might be
taken away, the old law and law-makers (as, for ex-
ample, Selden, who states this very case) considered
the formulist worthy of death as a murderer in intent;
and upon thio principle the trafficking with witches
wiis punished in early times.

Witchcraft, however, by and by assumed greater
statutory importance in England as elsewhere. Henry
VIII.'s two acts were levelled against conjuration, witch-
craft, false prophecies, and pulling down of crosses. Here
the charge was still something beyond mere sorcery,
and it was left for Elizabeth, in 1562, to direct a statute
exclusively against that imaginary crime. At the same
time, that princess extenuated her conduct in part, by
limiting the penalty of the crime, when stripped of its
customary accessories, to the pillory. The first trans-
gression at least received no heavier punishment. The
cases of Elizabeth's reign were chiefly cases of pre-
tended possession, sometimes, however, involving capital
charges against those said to have caused the possession.
In one famous case, of which the main features were
as ludicrous ns the issue was deplorable, three poor
persons — an old mar ■"-vmed Samuel, with his wife and
daughter — were tr; .A Huntingdon for having be-
witched the children of a Mr Throgmorton. Joan
Throgmorton, a girl of fifteen, and the eldest of the
children, was the main witness for the prosecution.
She related many scenes, in which the actors were her-
self and a number of spirits sent by Dame Samuel to
torment her, and to throw her into tits. These spirits,
she said, were on familiar terms with her, and were
named Pluck, llardname, Catch, Blue, and three
Smacks, who were coudns. Among other things, she
said that one of the Smacks professed himself an ad-
mirer of hers, and beat the rest for her sake, as i i the
following instance related by her. One day Smack
appeared before her. * Whence come you, Mr Smack ! '
she said to him. ' From fighting Pluck and the rest,
with cowl-staves, in Dame Samuel's back-yard,' replied
Smack; and scon thereafter, accordingly, Pluck ;iiid
Blue walked in, the one with his head broken, and the

425

OHAMBEBS'S UnTOBMATIOK 70B THE PEOPLE.

other limping. * How do you manage to boat them 1'
toia the young lady to the rictorioui Smack: ' you are
little, and they are big.' ' Oh,' »ayi Smack: * I can
take up any two of them, and my cousini beat the reit.'
Of Buch itufF were these charges made. It would ap-
pear that tiiey were either the offspring of insanity on
the part of the youthful Throgmort'''<8, or that, haring
begun the farce in srort or spite, the accusers found at
length that they could not retreat without a disgraceful
confession of imposture. In part, the conduct of the
poor Samuels was affecting, and eren high-minded.
After lengthened worrying, the accusers got Dame
Samuel indirectly to confess Ver guilt, by making her
repeat a prescribed charm, which had the effect of at
once bringing the children out of their fits. But the
old man and the daughter steadilv maintained their
innocence. The unfortunate family were condemned
on the 4th April 1593, and som after executed.

When James I. ascended .Le English throne, l\e un-
fortunately conceived it to be his duty immediately to
illuminate the southerns on the subject of witchcraft.
An act of the first year of his reign defines the crime
with a degree of minutenesu worthy of the adept from
whose pen it undoubtedly proceeded. ' Any on« that
shall use, practise, or exercise any invocation of any
evil or wicked spirit, or consult or convenant with, enter-
tain or enploy, feed or reward, any evil or wicked
spirit, to or for any p^irpose ; or take up any dead man,
&o. &o. &c.; such offenders, duly and lawfully con-
victed and attainted, shall suffer death.' We have here
witchcraft first distinctly made, of itself, a capital crime.
Many years had not passed awav after the passing of
this statute, ere the delusion, which had heretofore com-
mitted but occasional and local mischief, became an
epidemical frenzy, devastating every comer of England.
Leaving out of sight single executions, we find such
wholesale murders as the following in abundance on
the Record. In 1612, twelve persons were condemned
at once at Lancaster, and many more in 1613, when
the whole kingdom rang with the fame of the ' Lanca-
shire .vitcbes;' in 16'22, six at York; in 16.'4, seven-
teen ill Lancashire; in 1644, sixteen at Yarmouth; in
1645, fi/'teen at Chelmsford; nnd in 1645 and 1646,
sixty persons perished in Suffolk, and nearly an equal
number at the same time in Huntingdon. These are
but a few selected cases. The poor crcbiures who
usually composed these ill-fated bands are thus de-
scribed by an able observer : — ' An old woman with a
niinkled face, a furred brow, a hairy lip, a gobber tooth,
a squint eye, a squeaking voice, or a scolding tong\ie,
having a ragged coat on her back, a spindle in her hand,
and a dog by her side — a wretched, infirm, and im-
potent creature, pelted and persecuted by all the neigh-
bourhood becauae the farmer's cart had stuck in the
gateway, or some idle boy had pretended to spit needles
and pins for the sake of a holiday from school or work '
—such were the poor unfortunates selected to undergo
the last tests and turtures sanctioned by the laws, and
which tests were of a nature so severe that no one
would have dreamed of inflicting the a on the vilest
of murderers. Thoy were administered by a class of
wretches, who, witil one Matthew Hopkins tit their
head, sprung up in England in the middle of tiie seven-
teenth century, and took the profuesional name of
witch-finders. Tlie practices of tiie monster Hopkins,
who, with his assistants, moved from place to place in
tlie regular and authorised pursuit of his trade, will
give a full idea of the tests referred to, as well as of
the liorrible fruits of the witchcraft frenzy in general.
From each town which he visited, Hopkins exacted the
stated fee of twenty shillini^j, and in consideration
thereof, he cleared the locality of all suspected persons,
bringing them to confession and the stake in the fol-
lowing manner: — He stripped them naked, shaved
t))cm, and thrust pins into their bodies to discover the
witch's mark; he wrapped them in sheets, with the
great toes and thumbs tied together, and dragged them
through ponds or rivers, when, if they sunk, it was
heU as a (ign that the baptismal element diu uot
430

reject them, and they were cleared; but if they floated
(as they usually would do for a time), they were then
set down aa guilty, and doomed : he kept them fasting
and awake, and sometimes incessantly walking, for
twenty-four or forty-eight hours, as an inducement to
confession ; and, in short, practised on the accused such
abominable cruelties, that they were glad to escape
from life by confession. If a witch could not shed
tears at command (said the further items of this
wretch's creed), or if she hesitated at a single word in
repeating the Lord's Prayer, b*'0 was in league wJa the
Evil One. The results of these and such-like test" \f ere
actually and universally admitted as ovider...e by the
administrators of the law, who, acting upon them, con-
demned all such as had the amazing constancy to hold
out against the tortures inflicted, tew gave the courts
that trouble. Butler has described Uopkins iu his
' Hudibras ' oa one

* Fully empowered to treat a1)out
Finding revolted witches out
And has be not within this year
Hanged three score of them in OM shire t
Bome only for not being drowned ;
And some for sitting above ground,'

After he had murdered hundreds, and pursued his
trade for many years (from 1644 downwardc), the tide
of popular opinion finally turned against Hopkins, and
he was subjected, by a party of indignant experimenters,
to his own favourite test of swimming. It is said that
he escaped with life, but from that time forth he was
never heard of again.

The era of the Long Parliament was that perhaps
which witnessed the greatest number of executions for
witchcraft. Three thoutand persmia are raid to have
perished during the continuance of the sittings of that
body, by legal executions, independently of summary
deaths at the hands of the mob. Witch-executions,
however, were continued with nearly equal frequency
long afterwards. One noted case occurred in 1664,
•"fhfcn the enlightened and just Sir Matthew Hale tried
and condemned two women, Amy Dunny and Rose
Callender, at Saint Edmondsbuiy, for bewitching chil-
dren, and other similar offences. Some of the items of
the charge may be mentioned. Being capriciously re-
fused some herrings, which they desired to purchase, the
two old wcrien expressed themselves in impatient lan-
guage, and a child of tho herring-dealer soon afterwards
fell ill — in consequence. A carter drove his wacon
against the cottage of Amy Dunny, and drew from her
some not unnatural objurgations; immediately after
which, the vehicle of the man stuck fast in a gate, with-
out its wheels being impeded by either of the posts, and
the unfortunate Amy was credited with the accident.
Such accusations formed the burden of the dittay, in
addition to the bewitching of the children. These young
accusers wcrt! produced in court, and on being touched
by the old ivomen, fell into fits. But on their eyes
being covered, they were thrown into the same convul-
sions by other parties precisely in tho same way. In
the facu of this palpable proof of imposture, and despite
the general absurdity of the charges. Sir Matthew Halo
committed Amy Dunny and Rose Callender to the
tender mercies of the hangman. It is stated that the
opinion of tho learned Sir Thomas Browne, who was
accidentally present, hod great weight against the pri-
soners. Ho declared his belief that the children were
truly bewitched, and supported the possibility of such
possesiions by long and learned arguments, theological
(Uid metaphysical. ' Yet Sir Matthew Hale was one of
the wisest and best men of his tin) .*, and Sir Thomas
Browne had written an able work in exposition of
Popular Fallacies !

For several years subsequent to this (1664), trials
and executions wore yet for from unusual. Chief-
Justices North and Holt, to their lasting credit, were
the first individuals occupying the high places of tho
law, who had at once the good sense and the cou-
rage to Bet their faces against the coutinuauco of this

SUPERSTITIONS.

doitructiTe deluiion. In one case, by detecting a piece
of groM imposture, Chief-Justice North threw into dia-
rejpute, once and for all, the trick of pin-vomUing, one
of jhe most striking and convincing practices of the
possessed, A male sorcerer stood at the bar, and his
Bupposo i victim was in court, roraiting pins in profu-
sion. These pins were straight, a circumstance which
made the greater impression, as those commonly ejected
in such cases were bent, c-igendering frequently the
suspicion of their having been previously and purposely
placed in the mouth. The chief-justice was led to sus-
pect something in this case by certain movements of
the bewitched woman ; and by closely cross-questioning
one of her own witnesses, he brought it fully out that
the wretched creature placed pins in her stomacher,
and by a dexterous dropping of her head in I er simu-
lated fits, picked up the articles for each successive
ejection. The man was found guiltless. The acquittal
called forth such pointed benedictions on the judge
from a very old woman present, that he was induced to
ask the cause. * Oh, my lord,' said she, ' twenty years
ago they would have hanged me for a witch if they
could, and now, but for your lordship, they would have
murdered my innocent son.'

The detected imposture in this case saved the accused.
It was under Holt's justiceship, however, that the first
acquittal is supposed to have taken place, in desj>iie of
all evidence, and upon the fair ground of the general
absurdity of such a charge. In the case of Mother
Alunnings, tried in 1694, the unfortunate paunel would
assuredly have perished, had not Chief- Justice Holt
summed up in a tone so decidedly adverse to the pro-
secution, that the verdict of Not Guilty was called forth
from the jury. In about ten other trials before Holt,
between the years 1694 and 1701, the result was the
game, through the same influences. It must be re-
men'bered, however, that these were merely not .d
cases, in which the parties withstood all preliminary
inducements to confession, and came to the bar with
the plea of not guilty. About the same period — that is,
during the latter years of the seventeenth century —
summary executio' s were still common, in consequerice
of confessions extracted after the Hopkins fashion, yet
too much in favour with the lower classes. The ac-
quittals mentioned only prove that the regular mini-
sters of the law were growing too enlightened to coun-
tenance such barbarities. Cases of possession, too,
were latterly overlooked by the law, which would have
brougbt the parties concerned to a speedy end in earlier
days, even though they had done no injury to other
people, a'>d wore simply unfortunate enough to have
made compacts with the demon for the attamment of
some purely personal advantages. For example, in
16B9, there occurred the famous case of a youth named
Kichord Dugdiile, who sacrificed himself to the devil,
on condition of being made the lest dancer in Lanca-
shire. The dissenting clergy took this youth under
their charge, and a committee of them fasted and
prayed, publicly and almost incessantly, for a whole
year, in order to expel the dancing demon. The idea
of this impostor leaping for a twelvemonth, and playing
fantastic tricks before these grave divines, is extremely
ludicrous. But the divines played tricks not less fan-
tastic. They became so contemptuously intimate with
the d€ ion, as to mock him on account of saltatory de-
ficiencies. A portion of their addresses to him on this
score has been preserved, but of too ridiculous a na-
ture for quotation in these pagetf. If anything else
than a mere impostor, it is probable that Dugdale was
affected with St Vitus's Dance ; and this is the more
likely, as a regular physician brought his dancing to a
close after all. liut the divines took care to claim for
themselves the merit of the cure.

After the time of Holt, the ministers of the law went
a step farther in their course of improvement, and
spared the accused in spite of condemn-\tory verdicts.
In 1711, Chief-Justice Powell presided at a trial where
an old woman was pronounced guilty. The judge, who
had gueeied opculy ut the whole procccdiuga, asked the

jury if they found the woman * guilty upon the indict-
ment of conversing with the devil u the shape of a
cat '.' The reply was, ' We do find her guilty of that;'
but the question of the judge produced its intended
effect in casting ridicuu on the whole charse, and the
woman was pardoned. An able writer in the Foreign
Quarterly Review remarks, after noticing this case,

*yet, frightful to think, after all this, in 1716, Mrs
Hicks, and her daughter, aged nine, were hanged at
Huntingdon for selling their souls tc the devil, and
raising a storm by pulbng off their stof^kings, and mak-
ing a lather of soap I With this crowiiing atrocity, the
catalogue of murde. . in England clones.' And a long
catalogue, and a black catalogue it was. ' Barrington,
in his observations on the statute of Henry VI., does
not hesitate to estimate the numbers of those put to
death in England, ou this charge, at Thirty Thousand i'

We have now glanced at the chief features in the
history of witchcraft in England, from tho enactment
of the penal statutes against it. These statutes were
not finally abolished till the middle of the eighteenth
century, and unhappy consequences followed, in various
instances, from their being left unrepealed. Though
among the enlightened classes the belief in witchcraft
no longer existed, the populace, in town and country,
still held by the superstitions of their forefathers, and
having the countenance of the statute-book, persecuted
the unfortunate beings whose position and circumstances
laid them open to the suspicion of sorcery. The ban of
public opinion told severely enough upon the comforts
of such poor creatures, but the rabble occasionally
carried their cruel and ignorant oppressions to a greater
length. On the 30th of July 1751, an aged pauper
named Osborne, and his .vife, were seized by a mob in
Staffordshire, dragged through pools, and otherwise so
vilely misused, that the woman died under the hands
of her assailants. The attention of the law, and the
indignation of the humane, were aroused. One man,
who had taken a prominent share in the brutal outrage,
was condemned on trial, and executed. Immediately
afterwards, the penal statutes against witchcraft were
abrogated by tho legislature, and the remembrance of
them only remains, ae a wonder and warning to the
posterity of those who practiced and suffered from them,
as well as to mankind at Is'-ge.

It must not be imagined, we may observe in conclu-
sion, that the present generation has no need of such a
warning, or is relieved by its increased enlightenment
from all chance of falling into similar errors. The
nineteenth century has witnessed such impostors as
Johanna Southcote, Matthews, Thorn, Mormon, and
others, and has seen a degree of enthusiastic and un-
hesitating credence given to their pretensions by many
persona moving in a most respectable rank in society,
which shows that the credulous spirit that created and
supported witchcraft is not by any means extinguished.
It is indeed a spirit only to be fully eradicated by
such a universality of education and manly intelli-
gence as can scarcely be expected to exist, excepting
after the lapse of long-coming centuries of improve-
ment. The subject which has been treated of here has
therefore a moral. In brief words, the world may learn
from it the peril of encouraging the idea of the possi-
bility of direct spiritual influences and communications
in these latter days — a thing discountena . "ed alike by
the lights of reason and Scripture,

SrECTRAL ILLUSIONS.

The subject of spectral illusions, or, to use the common
phraseology, apparitions or spectres, is now, in the esti-
mation of scientific and properly-informed men, one of
the simplest and most intelligible to which the mind can
be directed; while, to tho ignorant, it still appears full
of doubt and ' vstery. An apparition, spectre, ghost, or
whatever it n. .y be called, is vulgarly supposed to be a
supernatural appearance — a thing occurring out of the
common order of nature. No particular time or place
is assigned for the appearance; but we may observe that
the time is usually evening or night, and the place soli-

427

CHAMBERS'S IKFORMATIOK fOB, THE PEORt!.

tftty, or apart from the haij haunts of man. According
to old theoriei on the lubject, the penon who declared
that he had seen such an appearance was either set
down as the fabricAtor of nii untruth, or his story was
fondly believed, and in the latter case the supeniatnral
incident was added to the mass of credible history.
"We shall now endeavour to set this conflict of testimony
and opinion to rights. In all cases, it is quite possible
for the declarant to speak tho truth as respects what ho
eaw, cr thought ho saw, and yet that no real apparition
may have occurred. The whole affair, as we shall
explain, is simply a mental delusion, caused by some
species of disease in the organs which afl'ect the vision.

Mental and bodily disorder, organic or functional, is
now allowed by physicians to be the basis of all kinds
of spectral illusion. Organic disorder of the body is
that condition in which one or more organs aro altered
in structure bv disease. Disease of the brain, which
inTolves organic mental disorder, is properly disease of
the body; but enduring lunacy or fatuity, existing (if
they can do so) without disease in the structure of the
brain, may also be called organic disorder of the mind.
These explanations will show what is meant by that
epithet, as applied either to aftbctions of the mind or
body. Functional disorder, again, of the mind or body,
is that condition of things wliero the healthy action of
the orgaa or organs, in pjvrt or whole, is impeded,
without the existence of any disease of structure. It
may be said that violent excitement of the imagination
or passions constitutes functional mental disorder:
* anger is a temporary madness,' said the Romans
wisely. As for functional bodily disorder, temporary
affections of the digestive organs may be pointed to as
common cases of such a species of physical derangement.
All these disorders, and kinds of disorders, may appear
in a complicated form, and, what is of most importance
to our present argument, the nervous nystem, on which
depends the action of the senses, tlio power of volition,
and tha operation of all the involuntary functions (such
as the circulatire and digestive fanctioii!>), is, and must
necessarily be, involved inure or less deeply in all cases
of constitutional disorder, organic or functional. These
powers of t* 3 nerves, which form tho sole medium by
which mil. id body act and react on each other, give
us a clue te the comprehension of those strange pheno-
mena called spectril illusions, which depend on a com-
bination of mental and physical impressions.

Organic mental disorder generates spectra) illusions.
Almost every lunatic tells you that he sees t.Hem, and
with truth ; they are seemingly present to his diseased
perceptions. The same cause, simply insanity, partial
or otherwise, and existing cither with or without struc-
tural brain disease, has bcun, we truly believe, at the
foundation of many more apparition cases than any
othe' cause. By far the greatest numl>or of such cases
ever puw on record have been connected with fanoti-
cism in religious matters ; and can there be a doubt
that the majority of the poor creatures, men and women,
who habitually subjected themselves, in the early cen-
turies of the church, to macerations and lacerations, and
saw signs and visions, were simply persons of partially
deranged intellect ! Ht i'hcresa, who lay entranced for
whole days, and who, in the fervour of devotion, ima-
gined that she was frequently addressed by the voice of
(iod,and that our .Saviour. St Peter, and St Paul, would
often ill person visit her solitude, is an example of this
order of monomaniacs. That this individual, and others
like her, should have been perfectly sensible on all other
points, is a phenomenon in the pathology of mind too
coiiinion to cause any wonder. We would ascribe, we
repeat, a large class of apparition cases, including these
devotional ones, to simple mental derangement. The
eye in such instances may take in a correct impression
of external objects, but this is not all that is wanting.
A correct perception by the mind is essential to henlihy
and natural vision, and this perception the deranged
intellect cannot effect. A three-footed stool may then
become a kneeling angel. We would therefore have
inch p<irsoii8 regarded not in the uuchbritable light of
42ii

imposton, but of poor ereaturei who mistook natural
hallucinations for supernatural.

Undoubtedly, however, many of those cases of spec-
tral illusions which have made the deepest impression
on mankind, have not arisen from organic mental dis-
ease on the part of the sight-seers. The lunatic is apt
to betray his condition, and, that once recognised, his
visions become of no weight. We have then to turn tu
other causes of spectre-seeing ; and first, let us notice
the mode of operation, and effects of certain functional
disorders of the system, operating on the visual percep-
tions through the nerves. A bodily disorder, which
ought ill itself to afford a solution of all apparitions, is
that called delirium tremens. This is most commonly
induced, in otherwise healthy subjects, b^- continued
dissipation. So long (say medical authcitieb) as the
drinker can take food, ho is comparatively secure against
the disease, but when his stomach rejects common nour-
ishment, and he persists in taking stimulants, the effects
are for tho most part speedily visible, at least in pecu-
liarly nervous constitutions. The first svmptom is com-
monly a slight impairment of the healthy powers of tho
senses of hearing and seeing, A ringing In the eatb
probably takes place ; then any common noise, such as
the rat. 'e of a cart on tho street, assumes to the hearing
a particular sound, and arranges itself into a certain
tune perhaps, or certain words, which haunt the suf-
ferer, and are by and by rung into his ears on the
recun-ence of even/ noise. The proverb, ' as the fool
thinks, so the bell tinks,' becomes very applicable in
his case. His sense of seeing in the meanwhile begins
to show equal disorder ; figures float before him per-
petually when his eyes are closed at night. By day,
also, objects seem to ir.ove before him th.at are rea '
stationary. The senses of touch, taste, and Emell, .
also involved in confusion.

In this manner the disturbance of the senses goes
on, increacing always with the disorder of the alimen-
tary function, until the unhappy drinker is at last
visited, most probably in the twilight, by visionary
figures, distinct in outline as living beings, and which
seem to tpeak to him with the voice of lif'u. At first
he mistakes them for realities, but soon discovering
his error, is thrown into the deepest alarm. If ho has
the courage to approach and examine any one of the
illusory figures, he probably finds that some foldc''
drapery, cr some shadow, has been the object con
verted by his diseased sense into the apparition, and
ho may also find that tho voice was but some simple
household sound converted by his disordered ear into
strange speech ; for tho senses, ut least in the milder
cases of this sort, rather cortvert than create, though the
metamorphosed may differ widely from the real sub-
stance. The visitations and sufi'erings of tho party may
go on increasing, till he takes courage to speak to the
physician, who by great care restores his alimentary
organs to ;. state of health, and in consequence, the
visions slowly leave him. If, however, remedies are
not ap])lied in time, the party will probably sink under
the influence of his disorder. The spectral figures and
voices, being solely the creation of his own fancy, will
seem to do or say anything that may be uppermost in
that fancy at the moment, and will encourage him to
self-murder by every possible argt!.nent — all emanat-
ing of coune from his own brain. The whole consists
merely of his own fancies bodied forth to him visibly
and axulibly. His own poor head is the seat of all ; there
is nothing apart from him — nothing but vacancy.

l)r Alderson, a respectable physician, mentions his
being called to a keeper of a public-house, who was in
a state of great terror, and who described himself as
having been haunted for some time with spectres. Ho
bad first noticed something to be wrong with him on
being laughed at by a little girl for desiring her tu lift
some oyster shells from the floor. He himself stooped,
but found none. Soon after, in the twilight, ho saw a
soldier enter the house, and not liking hia manner,
desired hiiu to go away; but receiving no answer, he
sprang forward to seize the intruder, and to his horror

BVPERBTITTONS.

iitook natural

cases of ip«o-
leit impression
lie mental dis-
lunatic is apt
recognised, his
hen to turn to
t, let us notice
tain funetioHal
visual percep-
isordcr, which
apparitions, is
lost commonly
, bj- continued
icitieb) as the
r secure against
common nour-
unts, the effects
*, least in pecu-
mptom is com-
y powers of the
ng in the eavu
I noise, such as
I to the hearing
into a certain
haunt the suf-
lis ears on the
t>, ' as the fool
f applicable in
ianwhilo begins
efore him per-
light. By day,
that are rea -
, and &mell, .

the senses goes
of the alimen-
nker is at laot
;, by risionary
ngs, and which
r life. At first
ion discovering
rni. If ho has
any one of the
it some fold c *"
he object con

pparition, and
jt some simple
rdered ear into

in the milder

ale, though the

the real sub-

tho party may

speak to the
his alimentary
insequence, the

remedies are

,bly sink under

ral figures and

>wn fancy, will

e uppermost in

courage him to

all emanat-

whole consists

to him visibly

it uf all; there

vacancy.

mentions his

sc, who was in

id himself as

spectres. Ho

; with him on

ring her tu lift

.mself stooped,

ight, he saw a

\ his manner,

no answer, he

1 to his horror

found the ihaiM to be but a phantom I The visitations
increased by night and by day, till ho oould not distin-
guish real customers fronk imaginary ones, so definite
and distinct wore the latter in outline. Sometimes they
took the forms of living friends, and sometimes of people
long dead. Dr Aldersou resorted to a course of treat>
inent which restored the strength of the digestive or-
gans, and gradually banished the spectres. At the close
of the account, it is said that the man emphatically
expressed himself to have now received ' a perfect
co'iviction of the nature of ghosts.'

Many additional cases from Hibbert, Abercromby,
and other writers, might bo quoted, in which the visual
impressions and perceptions were in » similar way
affected by the influence ot' digestive derangement.
But OS no doubt can rationally exist on the point, from
the comparative commonness of the disease, no more
proof need be brought forward. However, the inference
naturally deducible from these facts is too important
to be overlooked. Here we find, by unquestionable me-
dical evidence, that a man walking about in apparent
bodily health, and mentally sane, may nevertheless be
subject to most distinct visitations of spectral figures,
some of them in the semblauoe of dead persons. We
find this, we repeat, to be within the range of natural
phenomena. Now, is it not more likely, in those cases
where wonderful apparitions are reported to have been
seen, that the whole was referable to such natural
causes, than that the grave gave up its dead, or that
the laws of the universe were specially broken in upon
in any other way 1 Even with only one such admitted
source of spectral illusions as the malady alluded to,
we should certainly err in passing it by to seek for
explanations in supernatural quarters. But in reality
we have many causes or sources of them, and to these
we shall now look, in continuation of our argument.

Among the other varieties of bodily ailments affecting
either structure or function, which have been found to
produce spectral illusions — fevers, inflammatory aflec-
tions, epileptic attacks, hysteria, and disorders of the
.lerves generally, are the most prominent. As regards
fevers and inflammatory affections, particularly those
of the brain, it is well known to almost every mother
or member of a large family, that scarcely any severe
case can occur without illusions of the sight to a greater
or less extent. In hysteric and epileptic cases, also,
where fits or partial trance nccur, the some phenomena
are frequently observed, xtut vre shall not enlarge on
the effects produced by the influence of severe and
obviously-existing maladies, as it is in those cases only
where the spectre-seer has exhibited apparent sanity
of mind and body, that special wonder has been ex-
cited. It is so far of great importance, however, to
notice that these diseases do proiduce the illusions, as
in mopt cases it will be found on inquiry that the party
subject to them, however sound to appearance at the
time, aftervoards displayed some of these complaints in
full force; and we may then rationally explain the
whole matter by supposing the seeds of the ailments to
have early existed in a latent state. A German lady,
of excellent talents and high character, published an
account some years back of successive visions with
which she hod be^ honoured, as she believed, by Di-
vine favour. Dr Cri';hton, however, author of an able
work on insanity, found that the lady was always
affected with the avra epHeptioa during the prevalence
of the illusions; or, in other words, that she was labour-
ing under slight attacks of epilepsy. Thus simply was
explained a series of phenomena which, from the high
character for veracity of the subject of them, astonished
a great part of Germany, Another case, where func-
tional bodily disorder of a different and very simple
kind was present in an unrecognisable "tate, and pro-
duced extraordinary illueioni, was tLe famous one of
Xicolai, the Berlin bookseller. This individual, when
in a perfectly fit state to attend to his ordinary busi-
ness, was suddenly visited one day, when casually ex-
cited by some annoying circumstance, by the figure of
a person long dead. Ue asked bia v/ifv, who was pre-

sent, if she saw it ; she did not. The bookseller woi
at first much alarmed, but being a man of sense and
intelligence, he soon became convinced of the illusory,
yet natural character of the spectra, which subse-
quently, for a period of two whole ^ears, appeared to
him in great numbers, and with dally frequency. ' I
generally saw,' says he, * human forms of both sexes,
out they took not the smallest notice of each other,
moving as in a market-place, where all are eager to
press through the crowd ; at times, however, they
seemed to be transacting business with one another. I
also saw several times people on horseback, dogs, and
birds. All these phantasms appeared to nie iii their
natural size, and as distinct as if alive ; none of the
figures appeared particularly terrible, comical, or dis-
gusting, most of them being of an indifferent shape, and
some presenting a pleasing aspect. The longer these
phantoms continued to visit me, the more frequently
did they return.' They also spoke to him repeatedly.
These phantasms lasted, as we have said, two years.
The issue is peculiarly worthy of note, Nicolai had in
former years fallen into the habit of peiiodical blood-
letting by leeches, but had ventured to stop the practice
previous to the accession of the phantasms, and during
their prevalence he had only beeu advised to attend to
the state of his digestive organs. After they had en-
dured for the time mentioned, it was thought fit to
renew the blood-letting. At eleven in the morning,
while the room was crowded with the spectral figures,
the leeches were applied. As tho bleeding slowly pro-
ceeded, the figures grew dimmer and dimmer, and
finally, by eight o'clock in tho evening, they had all
melted into thin air, never to re-ap|iear ! This most
remarkable cose, the first in which any individual dared
calmly to come forward hihI avow such an affection, at
the risk of incurring the charge of insanity, was founded,
we thus see, simply on a plethoric or surcharged state
of the blood-vessels. Nicolai deserves great credit for
the philosophic composure with which he recorded the
phenomena presented to him; but his statement, which
has often been republished in this country, seems defec-
tive in some points, and, from the interest of the sub-
ject, we may be pardoned for presuming to notice these.
Generally speaking, he represents his spectral visitants
as things which came and went, and assumed various
shapes, and appeared in certain numbers, uninfluenced
directly by himtelf. The total dependance which they
had upon his own fancy of the vuyment, is not put dearly
before us, though, by the truthful accuracy of his nar-
rative, he unconsciously makes that fact apparent every
instant. The surcharged state of the vessels was the
fundamental cause of the phantasms, but his own pass-
ing fancies moulded them for the passing moment into
shape, regulated their numbers, and gave them words.
How could it be otherwise 1 The whole panorama was
exhibited on his own retina, and the working brain
behind was the manager and scene-shifter of the show.

Second-sight, taking the word in its common accepta-
tion of supernatural sight-seeing, is one of the varieties
of spectral illusion. Certain mental functions becom-
ing disc;u>ed, the sense of sight is imposed upon by the
appearance of things which are purely imaginary, but
nevertheless supposed to be prophetic of future ove^its.
Idleness, solitude, insufficient diet, and an imagination
led astray by ruminating too intensely on tho causes
of human weal and wo, may be assigned as the prevail-
ing causes of the disease. The Lowland Scotch used
occasionally to see wraiths, or spectral appearances of
persons who were soon to quit this mortal scene; the
Irish were also accustomed to the spectacle of fetches ;
and the Highlanders had their aeeond-iight — the whole,
be it observed, being but a variety of the same mental
disease and delusion.

Second-sight, however, has formed the subject of a
more regular \ rofession than any other species of spec-
tral frenzy. There were persons who, possessing from
infancy a defective mental constitution, or having a
taste for imposture, gave themselres out as habitual

428

CHAMBEBCra INFOBHATIOK FOR THE PEOPLE.

■ight-iMn, and wtn NToroioed acoordlnglj by th«ir
uniophuticktetl neighbour!. Aooording to the oredu-
loui Mcounti of Moond-iight, the newer of the leer it
* natural endomnent, and cannot be aoquirod by com-
muuication, or in any other wwr. It ii uiually talked
of by iti poMeasore as a painful and troubletome gift,
and one which they would gladly be rid of if they could.
It! Taticinationi relate only to thing! to come, and not
to pa!t orent!. Young and old may alike pog!e!! the
!eoond-iight, and it in common alio to men and women.
The vision! are lometimei predicative of good, and
lometime! of evil ; occaaionally, the vision simply gives
indifferent tiding!.

These are a few of tho most common peculiarities
attendant on this faculty. There are likewise number-
less lules affecting its exercise, and the interpretation
of its visi jns. If a vision occur by day, for example,
tho accompliihment of what it is supposed to predict
will b« spMdy; if by night, less so. An exact propor-
tion, indeed, is maintained in this respect — the morn-
ing vision being sooner fulfilled than that of noon ; the
latter more quickly than that of the afternoon; and so
on. If the seer beholds a figure in a shroud, it is con-
sidered a sure sign of death to the party represented
by the figure; and according to the extent to which
the shroud covers the body, the end will be quicker or
•lower. If a woman be seen at a man's left hand, it
is a presage that she will be his wife, and this will be
the case (say the true believers) though even both
should then be married. If more than one woman be
seen standing at a man's left hand, they will be married
to him in rotation, as they stand nearer or farther from
his arm. A seer often announces that suck and such
a guest will arrive at a certain hour, and though a
hundred miles away, the guest, it is said, will appear at
tho stated time. If a seer observe a vision of trees and
crops in some spot or another, though perfectly barren
and bare at the moment, wood and gram will, it is be-
lieved, there bo seen in due time. A visionary house
is beheld by the gifted eye in a place where stone and
lime were never laid, or expected to be laiil ; yet
then) will the real house forthwith be seen. To see a
Mat as if vacant when one is sitting in it, is a presage
of the party's death. The seer may behold crowds of
people, or single individuals, and very frequently he
meets imaginary funeral parties, and determines the
coming decease by the apparent mourners.

These rules of vaticination are said to be unvarying.
No ordinary person sees the vision while it is present
to the seer, but the same vision often appears to two
or more of the gifted, either while they are together
or apart. The Highlanders believe that children and
the lower animals, luch as cows and horses, behold the
appearances while they are before the seer. This is
made plain, they say, in the case of the animals, by the
trembling which seizes tliem at the moment ; and fre-
quently the children will cry, and if asked the reason,
will tell what unusual thing tliey behold or have beheld.
It is almost needless to say that the stories told to prove
the truth of these notions rest on no sure foundation,
and that, at the best, the prophecies of tho sight-seer
only come to pass by chance.

Atmotplieric lUmiong. — Spectral or illusory appear-
ances also take place from the power of refraction in
the atmosphere. In certain conditions of the atmo-
sphere, things at a distance, and really out of sight, as
on the opposite side of a hill from the spectator, are
represented in raid-air ; but there is nothing superna-
tural in this — the whole is the efl^ect of a simple cause.
The following is an example of atmospheric illusion : —
A gentleman and his servant, in the year 1744, beheld
a troop of cavalry riding and performing various mili-
tary evolutions on the side of Souter (or Soutra) Hill,
in a spot so precipitous, as to render it absolutely impos-
sible for man or beast to maintain a footing. The servant
had in the previous year observed a single horseman
hunting in nearly the same place, and had then come
to the concluiitfn that the sight was illusory, it being
4M

impofliibU for a rider to eroH a perpmdioular preolpio*
at speed. The troop of cavalry, therefore, was at ouot
set down as an atmospheric deception, and numbers of
persons of the district came to look on the extraordi-
nary scene, which continued visible till nightfall. An
explanation of the circumstance was afforded by the
rebellion of the following year. Some party of robels
were most probably exercising in secret, in a spot where
the evening sun so caught their figures as to reflect
them on the acclivity of Souter llul. The legend uf
tho spectre of tho Urocken in Oarmany, in like manner
arises from the fact of tho ground being favourable to
the reflection of a visitor's figure against the evening
sky. Our ancestors wore occasionally alarmed with
visions of armies fighting iu the air, and similar illu-
sions; had they been acquainted with tho laws of at-
mospheric refraction, all would have appeared simplo
natural phenomena, having no relation to any future
event, good or evil, (i^oe Optics, Vol. I.)

Droama.
It has now been seen that there are various modes
in which the system may be so disturbed as to pi'oduce
spectral illusions, and that, in the majority of these
cases, the parties subject to them might seem to bo
not only of sound mind, but in perfect bodily health.
Another mode of explaining cases of this description
ma^ now be pointed out. Many of the apparitions
which have been vouched for by those subjected to
them, have certainly been neither more nor less than
vivid dreams, A dream is a slight and ill-arranged
action of the thinking faculties during a state of partial
sleep ; in other words, when we dream we are only
thinking in a partially-wakened state. The dream or
the thought is in all cases but a momentary impression,
perfectly natural in its operation ; tho state of mind
which causes it being produced by temporary func-
tional derangement ; the stomach is usually less or
more out of order. No dreams take place during sound
sleep. In the greater number of instances, the half-
awakened mind embarrasses itself with shreds of re-
collections of things formerly seen or thought of, and
dressing these up in a new and fantastic form, a kind
of drama is performed, having the semblance of reality.
A servant-girl living in a ft.iuily where there were some
phrenological busts, and among others, a conspicuous
one of Curran, awoke her bed companion one morning
with the alarming information that the ghost of Curran
stood at the foot of the bed dressed in a sailor's jacket,
and having on his pale face the unwonted and unbust-
liko ornament of an immense pair of black whiskers.
The rther servant could see nothing, though the appa-
rition seemed to her companion to remain visible for
some minutes. On the tale being told, a pretty strong
light was thrown on the matter. The master of the
house had a yacht, and its sailors at that period were
frequently about the premises. Going to bed much
fatigued, and having her dreaming tiioughts divided
between her household duties and some gay whi-kered
beau of the yacht, the girl's fancy had dressed up
Curran's bust, an object most familiar to her retina, in
the way mentioned, giving him the Bailor's person and
whiskers as a fitting appendage. Had the object called
up to the eye in this case, instead of being a bust of
Curran, chanced to be a portrait of some wicked ances-
tor or ancestress of the family, as might easily have
occurred from the greater comparative impression
ma<ie on the mind by portraits of that oast, then should
we have hod a splendid instance of the preternatural
appearance of a spirit stung by remorse, and haunting
restlessly the scene of its mortal guilt. The girl, with-
out imposture, might have conscientiously reiterated
her conviction of the reality of the vision, and the pos-
session of a haunted chamber would have most certainly
been assigned to the mansion, inspiring such terror,
that renewals of the illusion might really have taken
place iu consequence. Where the whole affair is not a
fiction in such haunted-chamber cases, some solutior.
of thia kind may be with certainty applied, The proo.

supisBSTinoirs.

tloo of beliartng that drtami ar« indlottir* or lymboUo
of ooiuing evanti. ii one of the weakeat of our popular
■upentit^ns, and ii now Tery properly ridiculed by
every rational mind.

MISCELLANEOUS SUrEnSTITIOKS.

Durin(^ the lOTenteonth century, the belief in witch-
craft, fairies, apparitions, charms, and every other
species of supernatural agency, was universal in Britain,
both among high and low, and clergy as well as laity.
So ill instructed were the people in the art of tracing
events to simple natural causes, that there appears to
have been a continual liability to ascribe occurrences
to the direct influence of good or evil spirits, but par-
ticularly to the devil. ' Give me leave,' says Walker
in his ' History of Independency,' 'here to relate a pas-
sage, which I received from a person of quality — namely.
It was believed, and that not without good cause, that
Cromwel', the same morning that he defeated the king's
army at i^^'orcester fight, had conference personally
with the devill, with whom he made a contract, that to
have his will then, and in all things else, for seven
years ater that time (being the 3d of September 1651),
he should, at the expiration of the said years, have him
at his command, to do at his pleasure, both with his
soul and body. Now if any one will please to reckon
front the 3d of September 1651 till the 3d of September
1358, he shall find it to a day just seven years, and no
more, at the end whereof he died; but with such ex-
tremity of tempestuous weather, that was by all men
judged to be prodigious.' Such is a specimen of the
egregious fallacies which passed for sound argument
among our ancestors.

In Scotland, where religion assumed the garb of
gloom and fanaticism, a belief in the personal appear-
ance of devils was universal in the seventeenth century,
and continued among the vulgar till within the last
fifty years. The narrations of Satan's mean pranks,
in assaulting ministers, waylaying travellers, and dis-
turbing families while at worship, would fill a large
volume. In the Rev. Mr Robert Law's * Memorials
of Memorable Things, from 1638 to 1684'— [edited by
C. Kirkpatrick Sharpe, from the manuscript. Edin-
burgh : 1818] — we find the following entry : —

'October 1670, — There was a devill that troubled a
house in Keppoch, within a mile of Glasgow, for the
matter of eight days' tyrae (but disappeared again), in
casting pots, and droping stones from the roof, yet not
hurting any, like that which appeared in the west, in a
weaver's house, a good man, about fourteen yeirs agoe,
which did the lyke, and spoke to them audibly.' The
tricks of the devil, here referred to, aa having taken
place in a weaver's house in the west, about the year
1656, and which were implicitly believed by the most
learned clergy of the time, are related at great length
by Mr George Sinclair, professor of philosophy in the
College of Glasgow, in his work, ' Satan's Invisible
World Discovered.' The alleged events occurred at
Glenluce in Wigtonshire, and would be too contemptible
for quotation, if it were not desirabl(> iu show what
paltry tricks were played off, and beiieved to be super-
natural in those days. The family of the weaver being
v^xed with noises and appearances, send for the neigh-
bo ^iing clergyman to allay the devil, betwixt whom
and the worthy man a dialogue takes place, from
which we extract a few passages: — ' The minister re-
turning back a little, and standing upon the floor, the
devil said, " I knew not these Scriptures till my father
taught me them." Then the minister conjured him to
tell whence he was. The foul fiend replied, " That he
was an e^:l spirit, come from the bottomless pit of hell
to vex this house, and that Satan was his father." And
presently there appeared a naked hand, and an arm
from the elbow down, beating upon the floor till the
house did shake again ; and also he uttered a most fear-
ful and loud cry, saying, " Come up, my father — come
up, I will send my father among ^ou: see, there he is
behind your backs 1 " Then the minister said, " I saw,
indeed, a hand and an arm, when the stroke was given,

and heard." The devil said to him, " Saw yon that t
It was not my hand; it was my father's : my hand is
more black in the loof (palm.) Would you see me,"
says the foul thief, " put out the candle, and I shall
come butt the house (into the outer room) among you
like fireballs," ' kc. The visit of the minister was un-
availing. ' About this time the devil began with new
assaults; and taking the ready meat which was in tho
house, did sometimes hide it in holes by the door-posts,
and at other times hid it under the beds, and sometimes
among the bed-cKthes and under the linens, and at
last did carry it quite away, till nothing was left there
save bread and water, Tho goodwife, one morning
making porridge for the cliildren's breakfast, had the
wooden plate, wherein the meal lay, snatched from her
quickly. " Well," says she, " let me have my plato
again." Whereupon it came flying at her, without any
skaith done.' Any further extract from this ridiculous,
though at one time universally believed narrative,
would be unnecessary. A modern police-ofiicer would
have eff"ectually relieved ' the afflicted family,' by in-
stantly discovering the performer of the tricks, and
taking him into custody.

Besides the belief in aerial and terrestrial spirits, our
credulous ancestors put faith in all kinds of romancing
stories of river and sea demons. The more prevalent
of these superstitious notions was a belief in mermaids
and mermen, a class of creatures who lived in the sea,
and had bodies half-human half-fish. Mermaids appear
to have been much more common than mermen. The
mermaid, we are told, possessed tho body, from the
middle upwards, of a beautiful female, with a head flow-
ing with long yellow hair, which she incessantly combed
with one hand, while she held a small mirror with the
other. This female monster of the deep is described
as having been a constant schemer of destruction to
confiding navigators, or those who haunted unfrequented
parts of the sea-shores.

Another of the vulgar superstitions of our ancestors
was a belief, common to nations of Germanic origin,
that the corpse of a murdered person would bleed on
being touched by the person who was guilty of tho
murder. Strange to say, this Hpecies of evidence of
guilt was at one time admitted iu the Scottish criminal
courts. The following incredible instance was commu-
nicated to Sir Walter Scott, and is given in his ' Min-
strelsy of the Scottish Border' (vol. ii. p. 54). 'Two
young men, going a-fishing in the river Yarrow, fell
out, and so high ran the quarrel, that the one, in a
passion, stabbed the other to the heart. Astonished at
the rash act, he hesitated whether to fly, give h. uself
up to justice, or conceal the crime ; and in the end
fixed on the latter expedient, burying the body of his
friend very deep in the sands. As the meeting had
been accidental, he was never suspected, although a
visible change was observed in his behaviour, from
gaiety to a settled melancholy. Time passed on for the
space of fifty years, when a smith, fishing near the same
place, discovered an uncommon and curious bone, which
he put in his pocket, and afterwards showed to somo
people in his smithy. The murderer being present,
now an old white-headed man, leaning on his staff, de-
sired a sight of the little bone; but now horrible was
the issue! — no sooner had he touched it, than it streamed
with purple blood. Being told where it was found, he
confessed the crime, was condemned, but was prevented
by death from suffering the punishment due to his
crime.' We need only add, that no evidence is given
of the truth of this improbable tale, and it is, therefore,
utterly unworthy of belief.

Ignorance has often been justly termed the mother
of superstition; wherever mi::)Vind are most ignorant,
or least accustomed to t>aco events to their natural
and proximate causes, there do all kinds of supersti-
tious notions luxuriantly flourish. When the mind
once allows that matters of ordinary occurrence may
take place by the interference of invisible agents, such
as spirits, apparitions, devils, and so forth, there is
obviously so lin^it to the actioaa they are supposed to

4U-

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLR

twrform. Henco the number of events believed to bo
•.MninouB of evil in uneiiliKhtencd socictx. The njipenr-
»nce of two or three inBRpiei, hiires crossing one's path,
the spilling of mU at table, the crackinj? of funuture,
the howlinj; of dogs, putting on the left shoo first, tho
ticking noise of an iniect (the death-watch) in rotten
wood, and a hundred other tritiing occurrence*, are
imagined to be harbingers of evil.

TlIC ROSICRIICIANB.

In the early part of the seventeenth century, while
the most degrading superstitions prevailed in Kurope,
there iprung up a sect in Clorniany under the name of
Uosicrucians, who taught the wildest fancies. Though
as far astrny in their notions as the Deiuonologists and
witch bel'' ers, their creed was raoro graceful. They
taught that the elements swarmed nut with hideous,
foul, and revengeful spirits, but with beautiful crea-
tures, more rently to do man service than to inflict in-
jury. They taught that the earth was inhabited by
(Jnomes, the air by Sylphs, tho fire by Salamanders,
and the water by Nymphs or Undines ; and that man,
by his communication with them, might learn the
secrets of nature, and discover all those things which
hod puzzled philosophers for ages — Perpetual Motion,
the Elixir of Life, the Philosopher's Stone, aiul the
L.isence of Invisibility.

The Ilo.<iicrucians derived their name from Christian
It'isoncreQtz, their founder, who died in 141)4. This
ir.an was a professor of alchymv, or the pretended art
cf transmuting the baser metals into gold, which was
ipoken of as the discovery of the Philosopher's Stone.
JJeing therefore a visionary, it was natural for such a
jierson to found a religious sect, with doctrines of a
luntastic kind. lie is said to have bound his disciples,
'.■>y solemn oaths, to keep his doctrine secret for one
liundred and twenty years after Lis burial. Certain it
is, they were never heard of under this name until the
vea>- 1604, when they first began to excite attention
in (io.'many. Michael Meyer, an alchyinist, and a phy-
sician of r?pute, was the first person of any note who
lent the authority of his name to the promulgation of
their tenets. lie published at Cologne, in 1615, a work
entitled ' Themis Aurea, hoc est de legibus Fratcmi-
tatis llosea; Crucis,' which purported to contain all the
laws and ordinances of the brotherhood.

The sect may be said to have now fairly commenced
operations, the members calling themselves brethren
of the Rosy Cross, by a play on the name of tho
founder. From the work of Meyer above cited,
it appeared tl .t, by perfect temperance and chastity,
the brethren expected to hold converse with the ele-
mental spirits ; that they could render themselves
invisible ; draw gold and jewels from tho bowels
of the earth by incantation ; be subject neither to
disease nor death; and subsist without eating or drink-
ing ! They also laid claim to the power of foretelling
all events, and of curing all diseases; and asserted that
they possessed all wisdom and knowledge in a supreme
degree. But beyond the confines of Cologne, Frankfort,
and some other German cities, the name of the sect was
not much known until the year 16'23, when some of the
brethren suddenly ina<le their appearance in Paris, and
frightened the good pco])le of that capital from their
propriety. On the 3d of March in that year, the fol-
lowing placard was stuck upon the walls, but how it
came there nobody could tell : —

' We, the deputies of the principal college of the
Itrethren of the Uosy Cross, have taken up our abode,
visible and invisible, in this city, by the grace of the
Most High, towards whom are turned the hearts of the
just. We show and teach without any books or symbols
whatever, and we 8i>eak all sorts of languages in the
countries wherein we deign to dwell, to draw mankind,
our fellows, from error, and to save them from death.'

Viewed as impostors, the Uosicrucians were driven
for a while from France, and their philoaophi/— for such
it was called — found believers and preachers in Hol-
land, EngUndj aud Italy. The most celebrated in the
43a

former country was Peter Mormlui, an alchymist. In
Kngland, the high priest of tho doctrine was one Dr
Fludd, or, as he loved to call himself, Uobortus k
Fluctibus. This man had very strange notions upon
inediuino, which he had studied chiefly in tho pages
of Paracelsus. He warmly embraced the Rosicru-
cian creed ; boasted of his intercourse with the ele-
mentary spirits, with whom he had conversations far
surpassing those of Dr Dee with the angels; asserted
that ho could live without food fur a couple of cen-
turies, or until it pleased him to die; and that he could
render himself invisible, and turn all motals into gold.
Hut the most illustrious Ilosiciucian was Joseph Francis
Doni, an Italian, who wrote a treatise on tho doctrines
of the sect; and on this treatise the Abb£ de Rellars
founded his cabalistic romance, ' Tho Count de On-
bolis,' which is now tho best authority on tho subject.
According to this work, the leading doctrine of tlie
Rosicrucians is, that the whole of creation — earth, air,
water, fire — is occupied by spirits. * The air is tilled
with an innumerable multitude of beings in human
shape — proud and majestic in their appeariincc, but
very mild in reality. They arc great lovers of science,
subtle, fond of rendering service to the wise, but grent
enemies of the foolish and the ignorant. . . . The sens
and the rivers are inhabited in like manner. The an-
cient sagos named these people tho Undines, or the
Nymphs. The males are few among them, but tho
females are in great number. Their beauty ia extreme,
and the daughters of man cannot bo L-ompared to them.
The earth is filled almost to the centre with Qnonies —
people smaller in stature, who guard thi- treasures of
tho mines, and keep watch over precious stones. These
arc very ingenious, very friendly to man, and easy to
command. They furnish tho children of philosophy
(the Rosicrucians) with all the money they require,
and think themselves sufiicieutly rewarded by our
friendship. Tho Gnomidcs, their females, are small,
but very beautiful and agreeable, and their dress is
very curious. As regards the Salamanders, inhabitants
of the fire, they also render service to the children of
philosophy, but do not seek thoir conipimy so engerly
as the others; and their wives and daughters aro very

rarely seen by mortal eyes They aro by far the

most beautiful of the elementary spuits, being com-
pounded of the most subtile and beautiful of all the
elements. By becoming a member of our fraternity,
you will bo enabled to see and converse with all those
glorious multitudes; you will see their mode of life,
their manners, and iiinke acquaintance with their ad-
mirable laws.' These beings are mortal; but ' a Nymph
or a Sylphid becomes immortal, and has a soul like
man, if hIio can inspire ono cf us with lovo towards her;
thus a .Sylph or a (inome ceases to be mortal if ono of
the daughters of nmn will consent to marry him.'

The RosicruciaiiH tiuight that by the practi'O of
virtue alone, man could hope to hold communion with
the spirits of the elements : the attendant spirit in
Comus teaches the same doctrine :—

' Mortal!), that ^ mW follow me,
Ixive Virtue; iilic ainne i^t free:
She can teach ye how to climb,
Higher than the sphery chime ;
Or If Virtue feeble were,
Heaven itself would stoop to her.'

There being a degree of elegarce and poetry in these
wild reveries of the Uosicrucians, they are heliovod to
have funiished a basis for the Sylphs, Sylphids, and
Ariels of Shakspeare, Milton, and other English poets.
In recent times, literature ia not slightly indebted to
the superstitious conceptions of the Rosicrucians. It
will suffice to mention the charming story of ' Undine,'
by the Baron de la Motte Fouque; 'Zanoni,' by Sir
E. L. Hulwer; and, more recently, the popular poem of
the * Salunmndrine,' by Dr Charles Mackay, to show
how rich are tho materials afforded to poets and ro-
mance writers by the fancies of this curious, and now
all but forgotten sect.

lymirtt. In
VIM Olio I)r
llobortut k
otlont upon
11 tho paf^cR
be Rosicru-
ith the olu-
oriations fur
ela; assorted
uplo of ccn-
lint he could
Ills into gold.
3Reph Francli
tho doctrines
l>6 de Rellars
ount do Oa-
1 tho subject,
ctriiic of tlio
II— earth, nir,
s air is tilled
igs in human
[)earancc, but
ITS of science,
rise, but great

. . The iieas
tier. The aii-
idiiios, or the
hem, but tho
ity 18 cxtvoine,
[lared to thcui.
rith Ononies—
ic treasures of
stones. These
1, and easy to
of philosophy

they require,
■arded by our
lus, are small,

their dress is
rs, inhabitants
the children of
liny so engcrly
jhtors aro very
are by far tho
ts, being coni-
tiful of all the
our fraternity,

with all those
mode of life,

with their ad-

but ' a Nymph
iim a soul liVe

■e towards her ;

ortal if one of

rry him.'

he practi'C of

mmunion with

idont spirit in

KEY TO THE CALENDAR.

poetry in these
ire believed to
Sylphids, and
English poets.
;ly indebted to
sicrucians. It
:y of ' TJndine,'
Janoni,' by Sir
opular poem of
ickuy, to show
poets and ro-
rious, and now

■lANUARV.

Januakt »nd FsBntrARY are said to have been add«d to
the lilt of months by the second Roman kine, Numa
Pompillui, in the year before Christ 672. The name
of the former montlt is unquestionably from Janus, the
sod of the year in the Roman mythology, to whom the
nnt day was sacred, and in whose honour it was cele-
brated with riotous feastinss and givings of presents.
We learn from Ovid's Fasti, that a Roman workman
did not spend the Kalends or 1st of January entirely
iu debauchery: ho wrought a little at his trade, for the
sake of good-luck throughout the year.

I. Oircumeiiion. — A festival of the Romish Church,
from about the voar 487, and of the Church of England
since 1550, in honour of the circumcision of Cnrist.
The banks and public offices are shut on this day. As
the first day of the year, it is celebrated throughout
the modern Christian world with festive rejoicings, too
often approaching or exceeding the bounds of propriety.
In England, till a period not very remote, it was custo-
mary to usher in the year by drinking spiced liquor
from the Wauail Bowl, so called from the Aii<;I()-
Saxon Wae»-hael (Be healthy), the toast used on the
occasion. The custom without the name still exists in
Scotland. It waa also customary on this day to give
and receive gifts, originally with the superstitious de-
sign of securing good fortune for the year, and after-
words for affection and to promote good neighbour-
uitji. Even the kings of England accepted presents
from their courtiers on this morning. The 1st of Janu-
ary, under the name of Le Jour de Fan, continues
in France to be distinguished by a universal system
of present-jj'iving, iu which the royal family partakes.
It has been calculated that sweetmeats to the value of
£20,000 are sold in Pari- in ':his day.

6. The Epiphany, a feavival in honour of the mani-
festation of the infant Jesus to the three wise men of
the East, who came to worship him. It began to be
celebrated in 813. This continues to be observed as a
festival in the English Church, and is marked by the
shutting of many of the public offices. The popular
name for the testival is Twelfth Day, with reference ' o
its occurring twelve days after Christmas. Twelfth Day,
and ninre particularly Twelfth Night, are distinguished
by joyful observances. It is a tradition of the Romish
Church, that the three wise men were kings, and many
sets of names have hern fumiehed for 'them, Caspar,
Melchior, and Balthazar being the set best known:
their remains were said to have been recovered in the
fourth century by the Empress Helena, and the skulls
are still shown, under circumstances of great pomp and
ceremony, in the great churcli at Cologne. Perhaps it is
owing to this idea of the rogal rank of the wise men,
that a custom has existed from early ages throughout
Europe of choosing a person to act as king on Epiphany.
In England this custom has blossomed out a little.
Both a king and queen were chosen. It was done by
placing beans on a large cake. The cake was divided
amung tho company, and whoever of the male sex got
a bean was king, whoever of the female sex queen,
liatterly, other characters have been added, and thcso
were expressed on slips of paper. The Twelfth Night
cake continues to be eaten by merry companies, and
the characters of king, queen, &c. being drawn in that
manner, ore supported amidst much jocularity till mid
night. There is reason to suppose that the custom of
choosing a king is also connected with ancient heathen
rites, as in Rome a king of the Saturnalia was chosen
by beans. TweUUi cake in England is generally covered
No. 7«.

with hardened white sugar and many little omamenii,
and its abundant appearance in the windows of baken
and confectioners on this day never fails to arrest the
attention of strangers. In Scotland there is not, so far
as we can learn, the least trace of either a religious or
popular observance of Twelfth Day.

Shakspeare has shown the respect in which the obier-
vances oi ' Twelfth Night' were held in the Elizabethan
age, by applying it as a title to one of his most delight-
ful dramas, although he does not appear to have intro-
duced any of the festivities peculiarly appropriate to
that season, with the exception perhaps of the grosi
orgies of Sir Toby Belch and his boon companions.

Till the reign of George III., it was customary at
court on Twelfth Night to hold a public assembly for
playing the game of basset, in which the king and royal
family took part, the winnings being for the benefit of
the groom-porter, an officer who in those days had an
especial charge of the games of chance played in the
palace, at which he acted as umpire.

The day after Twelfth Day was a popular rustic fes-
tival, under the mock name of St IHttajpt or Rock Day.
(Rock is the appellation given to a quantity of lint put
upon a distaff.) It seems to have been a sort of fare-
well to the festivities of Christmas.

18. Septuagesima Sunday. — [It is necessary here to
mention that the Movable Feasts and Holy-Diiys of
tlie church are nearly all regulated by Easter — that is,
so long before or after Easter. Easter, the great fes-
tival of the church, is itself movable. According to
canonical regulations, Easter-day is always the first
Sunday after the full moon which happens upon, or
next after, the 2l8t day of March; and if the full moon
happens upon a Sunday, Easter Sunday is the Sunday
after. The first of these movable feasts is Septua-
gcsima Sunday, which occurs on January 18th, when
Easter Sunday is on March 22d. In this place we
propose setting down tho movable feasts on the ear-
liest days on which they ever occur; and Septuagesima
Sunday is therefore put under January 18th. All
the rest will follow in order, as in the calendar for
a year on which they occur on tho earliest possible
day.] Quadragesima is an ancient name of Lent, as
meaning the forty days' fast. The first Sunday in
Lent hence received the name of Quadragesima. Early
in the seventh century. Pope Gregory appointed three
Sundays of preparation for Lent, and, assuming a
decimal reckoning for convenience, they were respec-
tively called, reckoning backwards, Quinquagesiu: s
Sexagesima, and Septuagesima.

21. St Agnes's Lay, a festival of the Church of Rome.
The annals of canonisation present no image of greater
sweetness and purity thao St Agnes. She i. described
as a very young and spotless niaid, who suffered mar-
tyrdom in the tenth p.:<^ecution under Dioclesian, in
the year 306. , A few days after her death, her parents,
going to make the ofierings of affection at her tomb,
beheld a vision of angels, amidst which stood their
daughter, with a snow-white lamb by her side. She is
therefore usually represented with a lamb standing
beside her. Perhaps this legend has been partly founded
on the resemblance of the name Agnes to Agmu, Latin
for a iamb, for mere coincidences of aound often led to
very important ideas in the middl': ages. At Rome,
on St Agnes's Day, during mass, and while the Agnus
is saying, two lambs as white as snow, and covered
with finery, are brought in and laid upon the altar.
Their fleeces are afterwards shorn and converted into
palls, which are highly valued.

Tturoughout the Christian world, and in England as
much as elsewhere, it was customary for young women

433

CBAMBSUrB nfrORM ATION fOB TBI PEOPL&

on S( Agnoi'i Krt to end«*Tour to dirlne who ibould
be their huibandi. Thli wm oMti /iuting St Agnu'i
Fatt. The proper rite wm to take a row of pliii, and
pull them out one after another, eayinn a pater-uoiter,
and iticking one pin in the lUevo. Then Koinj{ to roit
without food, their dreanii were exp«cled to nreient
to theio the imaffe of the future husband. In Keati'i
poem, entitled ' The Kve of ^i Agnei,' the cuitou ii
thui aUudo<l to t —

They toM her how upon M Kgnet' Fvi>,
Youn^ vIrKlnH mlKht have vlitluiii of ilt'llRht,
Anil noft adurliiRi fruni thrlr luvoii reoolvo,
Upon tlw) hoiilnl iiiltMlo uf tho night,
I/ovrenionkw ilue thoy ilkl nrlghti
jU, luptwrlcM to bed thoy muit rvtlro.
And oouch luplne tlielr InnutlM, liiy-whllo)
Nor luok behind, nor ilduwitya, but require
Of luMvui with upward oyv* for ull that tUvy doihw.
25. Htxaguima Sunday ; eight weeki befunt Eaiter.
VonvtmioH of St Paul. — A feitival of the Homiih
ivnd I'^HKlith churuhei, and in London a holiday at the
public utflcoi, excepting the Exoiie, Htaiupi, and Cui-
toini. The populace in fonner timet thought tbii day
prophetic aa to the weather of the year : —

If Bt I'aul'i Dny bo flkir and clear,

It ilul li butide II hiippy year ;

Tf lilunturliiK windi ilii liluw iihift.

Then wiirii will trouble our realm Aill oft;

And If It cluuieu to (now and ruin,

Then will bo duar all aorta of grain.

In Oermaiiv, when thn ilivy proved foul, the commoii
people uaed to drag the iinagea uf St Paul and St Uiban
m diagnuw to duck them in the rivor.

.^0. The Maiii/rdom (\f King Charlei I. — A holiday
of tho Engliih Church, in whuio behalf Charles ia held
to have loat hia life ; obaerved by tho i-loiing of all the
public offices, except the Staiiips, Kxcixe, and Customs.
A motion in the house of CommoiiB in 1772, to rei>eal
M much of the act of I'Jth Churks II., cap. 30, as re-
lates to the ordering of the 30th of Junuurv I) be kept as
a day of fasting and humiliation, was lost by I Z'l against
87. The sheet in which the head of Charles was re-
ceived upon the scAtTold, presenting largo black stains
from his blood, together with his watch, are preserved
at Ashburnhani Church in the county of Sussex, having
been given at the time to hia friend Lord Ashburnham.
The cap, of laced satin, which he wore on the scaffold,
and which he d.rected to be sent to his friend the
Laird of Camiichael in Scotland, passed through the
hands of that gentleman's descendants, the Eurls uf
Ilyndford, and is now, or was lately, the property of
Robert Logan, Esq., residing at New Lanark.

Natural History. — January, in our climate, is the
coldest month of the year, on an average; for in some
years February and Alarch are both colder. The store
of heat ac(]uired in summer is now completely dissi-
pated, and the sun has nut yet attained sufficient power
to replace it. In the central parts of the island of ( jrcat
Britain, the general average of the thermometer this
month is 37 degrees. Vegetation is nearly at a stand
during January. Our ancestors thought it necessary
that it should be a severe mouth, for the sake of the
rest of the year. This mode of judging, hcnever, is
not oonfirraed by modem experience; for a mild winter
ia often followed by a warm summer. In sheltered situ-
ations a few flowers, as the crocus, mezereon, and poly-
anthus, are oocasionally seen to blossom in the latter
part of January ; and about tho same time (in England)
the hedge-sparrow, thrush, and wren begin to pi[)e.

FEBRVAnV.

The establishment of February aa the second month
of the year by Numa I'ompilius has already been men-
tioned. According to Ovid in hia ' Fasti,' a curious
record of Roman customs, all objects which were
thought to have the effect of moral purgation in the
religious ceremonials of that people were called Februa.
Cereniouiala of this kiud took place at this season;
434

henea the name of the month. The Tanily of Aumttus
is said to have been the cause of this month being so
nmeh shortened. The arrangement of Julius Cwsm
seems to have contemplated an alternation of months
of thirty with those of thirtv-one days. August was one
of thirtv days; but when Augustus gave it his name,
he could not endure that it should be one of the shorter
class, and tliorofore gave it an additional day, at the
expense of February, already one of that class. Our
8axon ancestors called February iprout kale, from the
sprouting of the cabbage, still called kale in Scotland.

I. QuinouaMiima SiMdap ; seren weeks before
Easter: called also Shrove Sunday.

'2. Candlemat Day, or the Purification of the Virgin,
a festival of the Church of Rome, and holiday in the
English Church, It is said to have been founaed upon
Roman rites in which candles were carried. The early
fathers of the church held it in commemoration of the
attendance of Mary in tho Temple, forty days after
child-birth, as commanded by tno law ; and it was
their custom on this day to bless candles and distribute
them among the people, by whom thev were carried in
solemn procession. The saying of Simeon respecting
the infant Christ in the Temple, that he would be a
light to lighten the Gentiles, probably supplied an ex-
cuse for adopting the candle-bearing procession of the
heathen, whose external religious practices the founders
of the liomish Church made a practice of imitating, in
onler to take advantage of the habits of the people.
Apparently in consequence of the celebration of Mary's
purification by candle-bearing, it became customary for
women to carry candles with them when, after child-
birth, they went to be churched. It was to this custom
that William the Conqueror referred in his famous re-
mark on a jest of the king of France. The latter hear-
ing that William seemed too fat and unwieldy to take
tho flold, said, ' Mothinks the king of England lies long
in childbed.' * When I am churched,' said William,
* there will be a thousand lights in France.' And his-
tory knows he made good his boast.

Candlemas Day is a holiday at the public ofRces, ex-
cepting the Stamps, Excise, and Customs. It is called
a Urand Da^ in the Inns of Court, a Oaudy Day at tho
two universities, and a Collar Day at St James's, being
one of the three great holidays, during the terms, on
which all legal and official business is suspended.

There is an ancient superstitious notion, universal in
Europe, that if Candlemas be a sunshiny day, the
winter is not half finished. The Oennans say — The
badger peeps out of his hole on Candlemas Day, and if
he finds snow he walks abroad; if he sees the sun shin-
ing, he draws back again into his hole. It is, or rather
was, an ancient custom in Scotland i./r scholars on
this day to make presents of money to their masters,
and to enjoy it as a holiday.

3. Si Blaitt'a Dag.— Si Blaise, who has the honour
of a place in the Church of England calendar, was a
bishop of Sebaste in Armenia, and suffered martvrdom
in 316. He is tho patron snint of the craft of' wool-
combers, and his name was once considered potent in
curing sore throats. At Bradford there is sti'l a scf
tenuial procession of the wool trade upon his da ' . for-
merly, it was celebrated extensively by fires lighted on
hills, and this is still done in Scotland on the previous
evening, under the name of the Candlemas Blaze, the
resemblance of the name Blaise to blaze having appa-
rently suggested the practice.

Shrove Tuesday. — According to the plan already laid
down, we place Slirove Tuesday upon this day of the
month of February. As the day before tho commence-
ment of Lent, it has been from an early age celebrated
throughout Christian Europe by feasting and merry-
making of such an extravagant nature, as to appear
designed to impart a disgust with all such indulgences,
in order to make tho subsequent mortifications less felt.
It is the concluding day of the time of Carnival, which
in various Catholic countries is of greater or less ex-
tent, but celebrated with most distinction at Venice

«i;

KIT TO THB CALENDAR.

>f Aucuiiot
th b«lng 10
iliui CwMkr
X of mouthf
(uit WM on*
t hU n»me,
f the (hortcr

(lay, ftt the

oIms. Our
U, from the
n Bcotluid.

Mki before

r the Virgin,
)lldav In the
ounaed upon
I. The early
ration of the
y davi after
; and it wai
md diitribute
are carried in
on reipoctlng
e would be a
ipplied an ex-
:eition of the
I the founder*
' imitating, in
)f the people,
tion of Mary's

customary for
n, after child-
to this custom
his famous re-
Ite latter hear-
wioldy to take
gland lies long

said William,
ee.* And his-

blic oiRcos, ex-
s. It is called
dy Day at the
James's, being
the terms, on
spcnded.

universal in
iLiny day, the
nans say— The
las Day, and if
IS the sun shin-
It is, or rather
r scholars on
their masters,

lias the honour
^lendar, was a
red martvrdom
craft ol^ wool-
lered potent in
B is stiU a scf
II his da • . .'or-
fires lighted on
on the previous
mas Blaie, the
;e having appa-

[an already laid
this day of the
the commence-
f age celebrated
ing and merry-
as to appear
ich indulgences,
cations less felt.
Carnival, which
,ter or less ex-
ction at Venice

Mid Rome. Canlral ii obrlouily • term iVom core | occasion, each generally consisting of a single shcei of

and vmU, m meaning a farewell to flesh, this article of |
food being unused during the whole of Lent. In these
two Italian oities, and partially in many others, the
Carnival is distinguished by shows, masouerades, races,
and a variety of other exhibition* and auiuMuients.
The people may be said to live for scvorul day* iu pub-
lic. The wealthier classes |iarade about in their rar-
riages, from which they pelt each other with sweetmeatu.
Whim and folly are tolerated in their utmost extent,
so that only there be nothing said or done to burlesque
eocle*ia*tical dignitaries. Iu Uermanv the maaaueiiig*
and mumming* of the time of Carnival, oallea there
Ftuehingi, are said to have given birth to the dramatic
literature of the country.

The main distinction of 8hrove Tuesday, in the early
time* of our own hiitory, wa* the eating of pancake*
made with egg* and siiice. The people indulged in

f;ame* at football, at whlcii there wa* generally much
icenee; also in the barbarous sport of throteinif at cocki.
In the latter case, the animal being tied by a *hort
string to a peg, men threw stick* at it in •ucce**ion,
till an end wa* put to it* mi*erie* and it* life at once.
Cockfight* were al*o common on thi* day, not only
amongst thu rusti- s, but at the public schools, tho
masters condescending to receive the defeated and (lain
cock* a* a j -)rqui*ite. The fe*tive and mirthful ob-
servance* of throve Tuetday are now much de<»yed;
bu*! the eal ing of pancake* or fritter* *tiil oontuiues.
And in *omo part* of the country, when young people
have me ogether fo ' he fe*ti« itiei of the evening, it
i* customary for the 'lividual to whose lot it fall* to
make the pancake«, \ ut a ring iu the dish contain-
ing the materiali < i vhich thev are to be composed;
and the person wh'.' iias the gooi' fortune to receive the
cake CO ^ning the ring is to b: 'St married.

^i.A^ t. ' Initday, the first di.; in I^ent, a holiday of
the O' iroh i:' England, observed by the closing of all
the puolio offices, excepting the Stamps, Exci/e, and
Customs. The palm* or Bub*titute branche*, oonsocrated
and used on Palm Sunday of one year, wore kept till
the present Reason of another, when they wore burnt,
and their ashes blessed by the priest and sprinkled on
the heads of the people: hence the name given to the
day. 1'hi* sprinkling of ashes was performed with
many Ci/remoiiies and great devotion. On this day also
person* convicted of notorious sin were put to open
penance. In England it is still a season for the saying
of the ' cominination ' in the Prayer-book, by which the
doers of certain kinds of wickedness are cursed.

8. Firnt Sunday in Lent. — The Wednesday, Friday,
and Saturday after this Sunday are called Kniber Days,
and the week in which they occur Ember Week. On
Ember Days our forefather* ate no bread but what
was baken in a simple and primitive fashion under hot
ashes ; hence the name. The other Ember Dayti of the
year are the Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays after
tho Feast of Pentecost, Holyrood Day (Sept. 14), and
St Lucia's Day (Dec. 1.5).

14. St Valmtine'$ Day. — St Valentino was a priest
of Rome, martyred in the third century, but he seems
to have had no connection with the notions and prac-
tices to which his day has since been given up. This,
it is scarcely necessary to say, is a day thought to be
especially devoted to the business of Cupid and Hymen.
Possibly its being about the season when the birds
choose their mate* may be the origin of thia belief.
Antiquaries have also pointed out that the Lupercalia
—feasts of ancient Rome in honour of Pan and Juno —
were held at this time, and that amongst the cere-
monies was a game in which jroung persons of the op-
posite sexes chose each other jocularly by lot.

St Valentine'* Day is no* almost everywhere a de-
generated festival, the only obsenance of any note
consisting in the sending of anonymous letters, by way
of practical joke, and tnia confined venr much to the
humbler classes. The approach of the day is heralded
by the appearance in the printsellers' shop windows of
vast numDeri of miHives calculated for use ou thia

paper, on the tirst page of which is seen some ridlcu-
lou* ooloured oskricature of the male or female figure,
with a few burle*<|ue verse* below. More rarely, the
print i* of a sentinieutal kind, such aa a view of t ly men'*
altar, with a pair undergoing an initiation into wedded
happinoM litilbre it, while Cupid flutter* abuve, and
hearts transfixed with his durti decorate the comers.
These are paltry frivolities compared with the obeenr-
auce* of Ht Valentine'* Day at no remote period. Hidi-
culuu* letter* were then unknown ; and li' letter* of
any kind were sent, they contained only a courteoiu
profession of attachment from some young man to some
young maiden, honied with a few compliments to her
various perfections, and expressive of a hope thai bia
love might meet with return, iiut tho true proper
ceremony of St Valentine's Day was the drawing of a
kind of lottery, followed bv ceremonie* not much unlike
what i* gonerallv called tLe game of forfeit*. MLmod,
a learned traveller of the early part of the laat cen-
tury, give* apparently a correct account of the prln-
cipal ceremonial of tho day. ' Un tho eve of St Valen-
tine'* Day,' he *ay*, ' the young folk* in England and
Scotland, by a very ancient cu*tom, celebrate a little
fe*tival. An equal numlter of maid* and bachelor*
get together; each write* hi* or her true oriome feigned
name upon *eparate billet*, which they roll up, and
draw byway of lot*, the maid* taking the men'* billets,
and tho men the maids'; so that each of the young men
li|B;hts upon a girl that ho calls his valentine, and each
ot the girls upon a young man whom she call* her*.
D^ this means each has two valentines ; but the liian
sticks faster to the valentine that is fallen to him than
to the Valentino to whom he is fallen. Fortune having
thus divided tho company into so many couples, the
valentines give balls and treats to their mistreser*,
wear their billet* several days upon their bosom* or
sleeves, and this little sport often end* in love.'

In the various jesting ceremonies of the day, there
always seems to have been a disposition to believe that
the person drawn as a valentine had some con*iderable
likelihood of becoming the associate of tho party in
wedlock. At least we may suppose that this idea
would be gladly and easily arrived at, where the party
BO drawn was at all eligible from other considerations.
Tho common people seem to have imagined that an
influence was inherent in tho day, which rendered in
some degree binding the lot or chance by which any
youth or maid was now led to fix attention on a person
of the opposite sex. It was supposed, for instance, that
the first unmarried person of the other sex whom one
met on St Valentine's morning in walking abroad, was
a destined wife or husband.
15. Second Sunday in Lent,
22. Third Sunday in Lmt.

24. St Matthias the Apoitle.—A festival of the Church
of England. St Matthias was chosen by lot after the
Crucifixion, in place of the traitor Judas (Acts i. 23).

Natural History. — The popular voice allot* a course
of *now, rain, and their hybrid sleet, to this month,
and considers it necessary 'H t such should be its fea-
tures, in order that all the powers of humidity may be
exhausted before the commencement of March, when
an opposite kind of weather is looked for. It is indeed
true that frost, followed by regular thaw, and that suc-
ceeded by the sharp drying winds of March, bring the
ground into the most favourable state for ploughing
and seed-sowing. The general average of the thermo-
meter is 39 degrees; that of difierent years varies from
32 to 42. The snowdrop and crocus are the chief orna-
ments of our flower-borders at this season. The prim-
rose will also flower; the hepatlca come forth in some
strength; and in mild seasons several other of our
earlier flowers and flowering shrubs bepin to show blo*-
snm. In England the raven and ' begin to build
their nests ; the house-pigeon has , ; the ringdove

coos, the goldfinch sings, and thrushes pair. In Scot-
land the notes of the thruih and blackbird give token
of the approach of spring.

OHAMBEBS'S lOTOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

■ARCH.

March, which with the andenti ranked the flrat
month of the year, was named in honour of Maw, the

fud of war, and the lupposed father of the founder of
Lome. Our Anglo-Saxon auceiton called it Lenct
AfonaA — that ia, Lent or Spring Month.

1, Mid Lent Sunday. — A holiday of the Church of
England. It was considered as incumbent upon all
true Christians on this day to pay a visit, if possible,
to their mother church, or church of their native parish,
and there make some small offering. The epistle for
the day accordingly contains an appropriate allusion —
UieroMlyma mater omnium, Jerusalem the mother of
all (Oal. iv. 21). And it was customary on the same
day fb. people to visit their parents, carrying with
them some gift, and receiving the parental I'lessing in
return, together with a mess of furmety — that is, a
porridge composed of whole grains of wheat, boiled in
milk, and sweetened and spiced. This practice was
called 'going a-mothering,' and the day was some-
times cafled Mothering Suiuiay. The festival, with all
its peculiar observances, is supposed to have taken its
rise in the heathen festival of the IlilarJa, celebrated
by the ancient Romans in honour of the mother of the
gods, on the ides of March;

St David's Day. — The interest attached to this saint
and his day is confined to the Welsh, whose patron
saint St David is considered. The most rational ac-
counts of St David represent him as Archbishop of
Me'iievy (since, from him, called St D.vid's) in the
sixth century. He is said to have been the illegitimate
son of a prince of Cardigan, and uncle of the famous,
but more than half fabulous. King Arthur. Learning,
and more particularly asceticism, the great sources of
promotion in those days, raised him to high esteem and
ecclesiastical rank, and gave him the reputation of a
power to perform miracles. At a synod called at
Brevy in Cardigan, in 519, in consequence of the Pela-
gian heresy, he made an eloquent and convincing dis-
play against the erroneous doctrines, which were there-
fore condemned. He died in 544, at an advanced age,
and was buried in the church of St Andrew, but in 962
his remains were transferred to Glastonbury Abbey.

While the Welsh venerate the memory of St David,
they a^e unacquainted with our idea of him as their
patron saint, a notion which has sprang up iu conse-
quence of the popular fiction of the Seven Champions
of Christendom.. They observe the 1st of March ?.s
the anniversary of his death. On this day all true
Welshmen, whether in their own country or far re-
moved from it, make it a point of conscience to wear a
leek in their Lats; and this custom is alluded to in
writings of considerable antiquity. It has also been
made effective use of by Shakspeare in his historical
drama of ' King Henry V.;' and the heroic cudgelling
which he there represents the choleric Welshman Flu-
ellen as having administered to Ancient Pistol when
he compelled him to eat the leek which he had mocked
at on ' St Tavy's Day,' has given rise to a proverbial
saying; for of an individual who has been forced to do
anything contrary to his own inclination, it is by no
means uncommon to say that he has been made * to
eat his leek.' How the leek has become connected
with St David and the affections of Welshmen is not
ascertained. The most probable story is, that at a
great battle between the Welsh and Saxons in the
sixth century, the former, by advice of St David
adorned their hats with leeks, for the sake of distinc-
tion from their enemies, taking the herb from a neigh-
bouring field, where they grew in abundance. The
victory gained by the Welsh being partly attributed
to this cause, the leek was ever after held iu vene-
ration, and associated with the name of St David.
' The moat honourable and loyal society of Ancient
Britons,' instituted in London in 1714, and who support
a school in the metropol'^ for the support and educa-
tion of poor Welsh children, h»ve an annual procession
496

on St David's Dajr, on which ocoaaion each member
wears a representation of the leek in his hat, the mar-
shals in front being decorated in like manner. In the
household expenses of the Princess Mary, in 1544, there
is entered a gift of fifteen shillings to the yeomen of
the king's guard for bringing a leek to her grace on St
David's Day.

8. The F\fth Sunday in Lent. — It was popularly dis-
tinguished as Care or Carling Sunday, terms which
appear to be of very dubious import. The peasantry
and yeomanry used to steep peas and afterwards parch
them, and then, frying them with butter, made a feast
of them on the afternoon of this day. It is thought
not unlikely that the custom bore some reference
to the superstitious notions which the ancients enter-
tained respecting beans, as containing the souls of
the departed. The peas, as eaten in the north of
England, were called earlingi. We may presume that
the day took its name from this word, carling being
in time softened into Care. It figures in the following
old rhyme which enumerates the Sundays of Lent by
popular appellations —

Tid, Mid, and !'.i era,

Carling, Polni, and good Paco-day.

Thj three first words are supposed to have been de-
rived from the beginnings of certain psalms — thus,
Te dexxm. Mi deus, Miterete mei.

15. Palm Sunday, called in the English Prayer-book
the Sunday next before Easter; also sometimes called
Passion Sunday, as being the commencement of Passion
Week, or the week celebrative of the sufferings or
passion of our Lord. It is a festival of great anti-
quity and a partly joyous character, as more particu-
larly commemorating the brilliant though short-lived
popularity of the reception which Christ met with on
entering Jerusalem immediately before his passion.
On this day, in Catholic countnes. the priests bless
branches of palm, or some other tree, which are then
carried iu procession, in memory of those strewed be-
fore Christ at his entrance into the holy citv. The
procession is as splendid as circumstances will admit
of; and after it is done, the boughs used on the oc-
casion are burnt, and their ashes preserved, that they
may be laid on the heads of the people next Ash
Wednesday, with the pries 's blessing.

After the Reformation, 1536, Henry VIII. declared
the carrying of palms on this day to be one of those
ceremonies not to be contemned or dropped. The cus-
tom was kept up by the clergy till the reign of Edward
VI., when it was left to the voluntary observance of
the people. Fuller, who wrote in the ensuing age,
speaks of it respectfully, as ' in memory of the receiv-
ing of Christ into Uierusalem a little before his death,
and that we may have the same desire to receive him
into our hearts.' It has continued down to a recent
period, if not to the present day, to be customary in
many parts of England to go a-palmhtg on the Satur-
day before Palm Sunday ; that is, young persons go
to the woods for slips of willow, which seems to be the
tree chiefly employed in England as a substitute for
the palm, on wnich account it often receives the latter
name. They return with slips iu their hats or button-
holes, or a sprig in their mouths, bearing the branches
in their hands. Not many years ago, one stall-woman
in Covent-Garden market supplied tht article to a few
customers, many of whom, perhaps, scarcely knew
what it meant. Slips of the willow, with its velvety
flower-buds or catkins, are still stuck up in some rural
parish churches in England.

17. St Patrick's Day, a high festival cf the Romish
Church. The interest attached to this saint and his
day is, however, chiefly confined to the Irish, whose
patron saint he is considered; though that term, as in
the case of St David, is of modern and English origin.
The Irish venerate St Patrick as the person who intro-
duced Christianity into their country. He is said to
have been born at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton in Scot-
laud, and to have first visited Ireland m a boy and a

SET TO THE CALENDAR.

ach member
tat, the mar-
iner. In the
a 1544, there
e yeomen of
: grace on St

lopularly dig-
terms which
be peasantrv
rwards parch
made a feait
It is thought
me reference
ncients enter-
the souls of
the north of
presume that
carlirig being
the following
ys of Lent by

have been de-
psalms — thus,

9h Prayer-book
netimes called
uent of Passion
e Bufferings or
of great anti-
s more particu-
ugh short-lived
ist met with on
re his passion,
lie j/nests bless
which are then
lose strewed be-
holy city. The
nces will admit
ised on the oc-
irved, that they
iople next Ash

VIII. declared
be one of those
iped. The cus-
reign of Edward
y observance of
le ensuing age,
y of the receiv-
)efore his death,
e to receive him
iwn to a recent
M customary in
ig on the Satur-
lung persons go
seems to be the
a substitute for
ceives the latter
' hats or button -
Dg the branches
me stall-woman
article to a few
scarcely knew
with its velvety
ip in some rural

of the Romish
is saint and his
he Irish, whose
that term, as in
I English origin,
erson who intro-
Ile is said to
nbartou in Scot-
L M a boy and a

pritoner. Aflenrards travelling into Oaul and Italy,
and growing up m a learned priest, he was commis-
sioned by Pope Celestine to convert the Irish, a task
which he immediately commenced, and carried into
effect with unexampled ardour and perseverance. He
travelled throughout the whole of Ireland, preaching
everywhere to the barbarous people, whom he baptised
in multitudes. He also ordained clergy to preside over
them, ^ve alms to the poor, made presents to the
kings, founded monasteries, and, in short, established
the Christian religion and a full apparatus for its
lupport in Ireland, Monkish annfds and popular
tradition attribute to him an immense number of mi-
racles, most of which have probably no basis in fact.
He died, in 432, at Down in Ulster, and was there
buried.

As the Welsh are solicitous to display the leek on St
David's Day, so are the Irish to show the shamrock on
that of St Patrick. The shamrock is a bunch of trefoil,
a species of grass. It is associated with St Patrick and
his day in consequence, as popular story goes, of the
saint having made a very adroit use of the plant in his
first preaching, immediately after landing. The people
being staggered by the doctrine of the Trinity, and dis-
posed to snow some violence to him, he took up a tre-
foil growing by his side, and illustrated the point by
showing its three blades growing on one stalk ; where-
upon they were immediately convinced, and became
converts. In Dublin, St Patrick's Day is, or was lately,
a scene of festivity and mirth unparalleled. ' From the
highest to the lowest,' says Mr Hone, ' all seem inspired
by the saint's beneficence. At daybreak flags fly from
the steeples, and the bells ring out incessant peals till
midnight. The rich bestow their benevolence on the
poor, and the poor bestow their blessings on the rich,
on each other, and on the blessed St Patrick. The
" green immortal " shamrock is in every hat. Sports
of manly exercise exhibit the ca'iabilities of the cele-
brated shilelah. Priestly care scothes querulousness;
laughter drowns casualty; lasses dance with lads; old
women run about to share cups oi consolation with each
other; and by the union of wi^ humour, and frolic,
this miraculous day is prolonged till after the dawn of
next morning.'

19. Maunm/ Thursday, called also Shere Thursday,
the day before Good Friday. Its name of Shere Thurs-
day appears to have arisen from the practice which the
priests had of shearing their hair on this day, to make
themselves as trim as possible for Easter. The other
name is more doubtful, but seems most probably to
have been derived from taaund, an old English word
for a basket, in consequence of the distribution of gifts
on this day in baskets — the word maundy, used by old
authors for alms or gifts, being apparently derived in
Hb turn from the practice of this day. The religious
customs of the day consisted in works of humility, and
in conferring gifts on the poor. The object seems to
have been to commemorate, or imitate, the humility of
Christ in washing the feet of his disciples — the giving
of maundies being an additional good work. Cardinal
Wolsey, at Peterborough Abbey, in 1530, ' made his
maund in our lady's chapel, having fifty-nine poor men
whose feet he washed and kissed; and after he had
wiped them, he gave every of the said poor men twelve
pence in money, three ells of good canvas to make
them shirts, a pair of new shoes, a cast of red her-
rings, and three white herrings; and one of these had
two shillings' — the number of the poor men being pro-
bably in correspondence with the years of his age.
Even royalty condescended to this practice. The king
of England was accustomed on Maundy Thursday to
have brought before him as many poor men as he was
years old, whose feet he washed with his own hands,
after which his majesty's maunds, consisting of meat,
clothes, and money, were distributed amongst them,
(jueen Elizabeth, when in her thirty-ninth year, per-
formed this ceremony at her palace, of Greenwich, on
which occasion shs was attended by thirty-nine ladies
and gentlewomen.

assembled, their feet were first washed by the yeomen
of the laundry with wann water and sweet herbs, after-
wards by the sub-almoner, and finally by the queen her-
self, kneeling ; these various persons, the yeomen, the
sub -almoner, and the queen, after washing each foot,
marked it with the sign of the cross above the toes, and
then kissed it. Clothes, victuals, money, and other
grbtnitles were then distributed.

This strange ceremonial, in which the highest was
for a moment brought beneath the lowest, was last per-
formed in its full extent by James II. King William
left the washing to his almoner; and such was the
arrangement for many years afterwards. ' Thursday,
April 15 [1731], being Maundy Thursday, there was
distributed at the Banqueting House, Whitehall, to
forty -eight poor men and forty -eight poor women
(the king's [George II.] age being forty-eight), boiled
beef and shoulders of mutton, and small bcwls of ale,
which is called dinner; after that large wooden plat-
ters of fish and loaves — namely, undressed, one large
old ling, and one large dried cod; twelve red herrings
and twelve white herrings, and four half-quarter loaves.
Each person had one platter of this provision ; after
which were distributed to them shoes, stockings, linen
and woollen cloth, and leathern bags, with one penny,
twopenny, threepenny, and fourpenny pieces of silver
and shillings — to each about four pounds in value.
His Grace the Lord Archbishop of York, Lord High
Almoner, performed the annual ceremony of washing
the feet of a certain number of poor in the RoyiS
Chapel, Whitehall, which was formerly done by the
kings themselves, in imitation of our Saviour's pat-
tern of humility.' For a considerable number of
years the washing of the feet and other ceremonies has
been entirely given up; and since the beginning of the
reign of Queen Victoria, an additional sum of money
has been given in lieu of provisions.

20. Good Friday. — This day, as the presumed anni-
versary of the Crucifixion, has for ages been solemnly
observed throughout Christian Europe, the only excep-
tions being in Presbyterian countries, such as Scotland.
In Catholic times, the observances of the day in Eng-
land were of the same character with those which are
still maintained in many parts of the continent. It ib
still a solemn festival of the Church of England, and
the only one besides Christmas which is honoured by
a general suspension of business. Strictly observant
Church -of- England people abstain from all kind of
animal food, even from cream to tea ; such, we are in-
formed by Boswell, was the custom of Dr Johnson. The
churches are in general well attended, and it is con-
sidered proper to appear there in black clothes.

Amongst the usages of this day was a strange cere-
mony of creeping to the cross, which even the king was
not exempt from performing. The king also distributed
rings at Westminster Abbey for the cure of the cramp.
The ceremonious burying of a crucifix, as represent-
ing the burial of Christ, is calculated to give less sur-
prise. It is still in some measure kept up in the ser-
vice of the Tenebra, performed in St Peter's at Rome.
It was also customary at great churches to have a
small building in the form of a tomb, in which the host
was this day deposited, by way of representing the burial
of Christ. In England, and perhaps also in other coun-
tries, eggs and bacon were the kinds of food appropriate
to Good Friday. The eggs laid on this day were
thought to have the power of extinguishing any fire
into which they might be thrown. In modem times,
the only species of viands connected with Good Friday
in Britain is the well-known hot cross' bun, a small
spiced cake, marked with the figure of a cross, and sold
not only in bakers' shops but by persons traversing tha
streets with baskets.

In London, as well as in almost every other consi-
derable town in England, the first sound beard on the
morning of Good Friday is the cry of * Hot Cross

Buns 1 ' uttered by great numbers of people of a
» i.k.eiiui^ wj .U..VJ-U...V .<~.«» humble order, who parade the streets with baskets
Thirty -nine poor persons being I containing a plentiful stock of the article, wrapped up

437

OHAMBEBffB INrOBMATION FOB THB PEOPLE.

in fluinel and linen to keep i( wann. The ciy, which
If nther mniieal, is itriotly—

Hot orou bunih-

One a penny, bona— two a penny, buns ;

One ft-penny, two a-penny— hot cross buna.

Ilaeksten of ail kinds, and manj persons who attempt
no traffic at any other time, enter into the business of
lupplpng buns on Good Friday morning. They make
a stir on the itreets, which lasts till church time, and
it is resumed in the afternoon. About a century ago
there was a baker's shop at Chelsea, so famous for its
manufacture of excellent buns, that crowds of waiting
customers clustered under its porch during a great
part of the day. The buns were brought up from the
oren on small black tin trays, and so given out to the
people. The king iiimself had stopped at the door to
purchase hot cross buns, and hence the shop took the
name of the Royal Bun-Houge. As always happens
in London when anything original and successful is
struck out, the Royal Bun-House soon obtained a rival,
and was obliged to advertise as the Old Original Royal
Bun-House, The wars of these two houses, like those
of York and Lancaster, have long since been hushed
to rest ; and we find it stated in a recent work [Mr
Hone's amusing • Every-Day Book,' vol. i. p. 404] that
neither of them is now distinguished for this article
above the other bakers' shops of Chelsea.

In old times, Good Friday was distinguished in Lon-
don by a sermon preached at Paul's Cross (a wooden
pulpit placed on stone steps, and surmounted by a
cross, which stood till the time of the civil war, in the
open air, near the north-east comer of St Paul's Ca-
thedral). The sermon was generally on the subject of
Christ's passion. Connected with it, two or three others
were preached on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday,
in Easter week, at the Spital in Spitalfields, where the
Lord Mayor and all tho most eminent persons in Lon-
don generally attended. The ' Spital sermons' are still
kept up, but take place in St Bride's Church.

21. Easter Eve. — In Catholic times, it was customary
to put out all fires on this day, and light them anew
from flint. The priest blessed the new fire, and a
brand from it was thought to be an effectual protection
against thunder-strokes. A large wax taper, called the
Pascal Taper, was also blessed, and lighted beside tho
representative sepulchre above-mentioned, and there a
vigil was kept till morning. The taper used on one of
these occasions in Westminster Abbey church is said
to have been 300 pounds in weight.

22. Easter Day, a solemn festival in celebration of
the Resurrection. The word used by us is from the
Saxon oster (rising). Easter is observed with much
ceremonial, not only throughout Catholic Europe, and in
the countries where the Oreek church is established,
but in Turkey and the Mohammedan countries along
the coast of Africa. Tho festival is an engraftinent
upon the Jewish Passover, the name of which (pascha)
is still applied to it in almost every country besides
England. The Catholic observances of Easter are of
an elaborate character. At Rome, the Pope is carried
in state to perform hich mass in St Peter's, from the
balcony of which he afterwards blesses the people as-
sembled in the piazza below — perhaps one of the most
imposing religious spectacles which the world any-
where presents. In England, before the Reformation,
the Catholic observances of Easter were as fully enacted
as in any other country. Early in tho morning, a sort
of theatrical representation of tho Resurrection was
performed in the churches, tho priests coining to the
little sepulchre whore, on Good Friday, they had de-
posited the host, which they now brought forth with
great rejoicings, as cmbleiiiatical of the rising of the
Saviour. In the course of the day, the clergy had a

Sftme at ball in the church, a custom of which it is now
ifficult to believe that it ever could havo existed.
At present, in large seats of population, Easter Sun-
day ii distinguished by little besides the few peculia-
rities of the service, and the custom of going to church
488

in attire m gay ai ponihle. Bui in raral diitrlotf
there still exist iv few vestiges of old superstitions and
customs connected with the day. It was once a gene-
ral belief, and probably still is so in a few out-of-
the-way places, that on Easter morning the sun danced
or played immsdiately after his rising. People rose
early, and went into the fields to see this supposed
phenomenon.

The viands : ;.^.x>priate to Easter Day in the old
times were, first and above all, eggs, then bacon, tansy
pudding, and bread and cheese. The origin of the
connection of eggs with Easter is lost in the mists of
remote antiquity. They are as rife at this day in Russia
as in England. There it is customary to go about with
a quantity, and to give one to each friend one meets,
saving, ' Jesus Christ is risen,' to which the other re-
plies, ' Yes, he is risen,' or, * It is so of a truth,' The
Pope formerly blessed eggs to be distributed throughout
the Christian world for use on Easter Day. In Ger-
many, instead of the egg itself, the people offer a print
of it, with some lines inscribed. Formerly, the kin^
of England had hundreds prepared to give to his house-
hold : in a roll of the expenses of Edward I. the fol-
lowing occurs, in the accounts of Easter Sunday, in the
eighteenth year of his reign — * Four hundred and a-
half of eggs, eighteenpence.' The custom is supposed
to have been originally .Tewish.

At this day, the Easter eggs used in England arc
boiled hard in water containing a dye, so that they
come out coloured. The boys take these eggs and
make a kind of game, either by throwing [bowling]
them to a distance on the green sward — he who throws
oftenest without breaking his eggs being the victor —
or hitting them against each other in their respective
hands, in which case the .wner of the hardiest or last
surviving egg gains the day.

It was at one time customary to have a gammon of
bacon on this day, and to eat it all up, in signification
of abhorrence of Judaism. The tansy seems to have
been introduced into Easter feasts as a successor to the
bitter herbs used by the Jews at the Passover. It was
usually presented well sugared.

It was a custom in the thirteenth century to seize
all ecclesiastics found walking abroad between Easter
and Pentecost, and make them purchase their liberty
with money. This was an acting of the seizure of the
apostles after Christ's passion. We have still what
appears to be a relic of this fashion in a custom which
exists in various parts of England. A band of young
men go abroad, and whatever female they meet they
take hold of her, and pull off her shoes, wh^.ch are only
returned to her upon her paying some trifling forfeit.
In Durham it is done by boys, who, on meeting any
woman, accost her with, ' Pay for your shoes, if you
please.' The trifling suras which they thus collect are
spent in a feast at night. At Ripon, celebrated for its
manufacture of spurs, travellers riding through the
town are stripped of those articles, which in like man-
ner they have to redeem. On Eastor Monday, the women
make a return by going abroad in groups, and causing
the men to redeem their shoes.

* Lifting at Easter' is another old custom, which may
be presumed to have originated in a design of drama-
tising the events connected with Christ's passion. It
consisted in hoisting individuals up into th^ air, either
in a chair or otherwise, until they relieved themselves
by a forfeit. A curious record makes us aware that
on Easter day, in the eighteenth year of the reign of
Edward I., seven ladies of the queen's household went
into the king's chamber and lifted him, for which four-
teen pounds appears to have been ilisbursed as a forfeit.
The men lifted tho women on Easter Monday, and the
women claimed the privilege of lifting the men in
return on the ensuing day. Three hoists were always
given, attended by loud huzzas.

23. Easter Monday. — This and the ensuing day are
holidays of tho church. The week commencing with
Easter, and called thence Easter week, is a season of
festivity and partial suspension of businew; and the

KEY TO THE CALENDAR.

ral diitriotl
■titiona and
nee a gene-
few out-of-
I Httn danced
People rose
lis auppoied

r in the old
bacon, tansy
irigin of the

the mists of
lay in Russia
JO about with
d one meets,
the other re-

truti.' The
id throughout
ay. In Ger-
e offer a print
irly, the kin^
B to his houae-
ard I. the fol-
iunday, in the
ndred and a-
m is supposed

1 England are
, so that they
hese eggs and
ing [bowling]
■he who throws
g the Tictor —
,heir respective
bardiest or last

5 a gammon of
in signification
seems to have
successor to the
>8Bover. It was

entury to seize
between Easter
se their liberty
e seizure of the
lave still what
a custom which
band of young
they meet they
wb-ch are only
trifling forfeit.
m meeting any
ir shoes, if you
thus collect arc
jlebrated for its
jg through the
:h in like ir.an-
iday, the women
ps, and causing

tom, which may
esign of drama-
it's passion. It
;o th^ air, either
■ved themselves

us aware that
of the reign of
household went

for which four-
rsed as a forfeit,
londay, and the
ng the men in
ists were always

ensuing day mo
miraencing with
:, is a season of
uinew; and the

iulier dayi of it after Eaater itielf are in London de-
voted by the working-classes to recreation and amuae-
ment, which they chiefly seek for at Greenwich Fair,
and in esounioni to tcvema near town,

26. The Aimunoiation of vur Lady, a festival of the
Church of England. It ia commonly called in England
Lady-Day, as an abrid^ent of the Day of our Bleased
Lady. _ Thia featival is m celebration of the incarnation
of Christ, or the announcement by the Holy Ghost to
Marjr that she should bear the Son of God. The An-
nunciation is observed as a holiday at all the public
offices, excepting the Stamps, Excise, and Customs. It
is a gaudy day in the Romish Church. In Catholic
countries the service of this day resounds with ' Hail,
Mary I ' uttered in a strain of the highest enthusiasm.
The 25th of March is held as a quarter-day for many
commercial purposes in England.

29. The first Sunday after Easter, called Low Sun-
day, _ becaube it is Easter day repeated, with the church-
service somewhat abridged or lotvei-ed in the ceremony
from the pomp of the festival the Sunday before.

Natural HUtory. — March is eminently a spring
month, and the season more particularly devoted to
sowing. _ Its general character, as far as the extreme
uncertainty of our climate warns us to speak, is dry-
ness. The frosts of winter, followed by vie sharp dry
winds of this month, have the efiiect of pulverising the
soil, and fitting it for the reception of the seed. The
value of the weather appro^.. .o March is expressed
in the saying, ' A peck of M( -•. - <it is worth a king's
ransom.' This month is al, . ,,. cted to undergo a
change between its beginning' d its end. The Eng-
lish say ' March comes in ii&e a lion, and goes out
like a lamb;' the Scotch version of the same idea is,
' March comes in with an adder's head, and goes out
with a peacock's tail.' The general average tempera-
ture of March (41 degrees) is so little above that of
February, as to make the greater dryness appear to
arise in but a small degree from heat. There is in
March a general bursting of the trees into leaf, of the
meadowB mto flower, and partly, it may be added, of
the birds into song. It is the season for planting gar-
dens, as well as sowing the fields, although in many
situations there are few which may not be deferred for
a little longer without disadvantage.

APRIL.

The Romans gave this month the name of Aprilis,
from aperio, because it was the season when things
opened. By the Saxons it was called Ostre month,
probably from the same word from which Easter is
supposed to have been derived. The Dutch and Ger-
maui term it Gras month.

1. All FooVt Day. — From a very tarly age, this day
has been considered as one set apart lot the exercise
of all kinds of mirthful folly and practical joking : the
term given to it we may hold as a travestie of the fes-
tival of All Saints' Day. The custom of playing off
little tricks on this day, whereby ridicule may be fixed
upon unguarded individuals, appears to be universal
throughout Europe. In France, one thus imposed
upon is called Un pouson d'Avril (an April fish). In
England, such a person is called an April fool ; in Scot-
land, a gowk. Gowk is the Scotch for ^^he cuckoo, and
also signifies a foolish person, being in fact from the
same root as the English word gawky. The favourite
jest in Britain is to send one upon an errand for some-
thing grossly nonsensical — as for pigeon's milk, or the
Hiiitory of Adam's Grandfather; or to make appoint-
ments which are not to be kept; or to call to a passer-
by that his latchet is unloosed, or that there is a spot
of mud upon his face. When he falls into the snare,
the term April fool or gowk is applied with a ishout
of laughter. It is very remarkable that the Hindoos
pi'Rctise precisely similar tricks on the 31 st of March,
when they have what is called the Hull Festival.

7. The fifteenth day after Easter is marked by an
old Eogiith featiralf to which the inexplicable tenu

Hock Day is applied. The custom peculiar to the day
consisted in the men and women of rural districts going
out to the roads with ropes, and intercepting passengers
jocularly, and raising money from them, to be be-
stowed, it may Tvell be presumed, in pious uses.

23, St Oeorge'f Day in the Romish calendar. St
George is held as the tutelar or patron saint of England.
He is said to have been a native of Cappadocia; and
it is tolerably certain ihat he was held in great venera-
tion by the Greeks in the fourth century. Throughout
the countries once constituting th(< Lower Empire, in
the Crimea, and in Ti>,rtary, he has for ages been wor-
shipped ; in the former countries as a saint, in the latter
as a deity. By all he is invariably represented as a
man on horseback, spearing a dragon. With a regard
apparently to his military character, our Edward III.
adopted his name aa his war-cry, and his figure as s
badge in connection with the order of the garter; thus
originated the association of St George with England,
since in many respects so conspicuous. It is remark-
able that in Russia St George is as much a favourite
saint as he is in England. The sovereigns of that
country have borne his emblem from a time previous
to Edward III, The derivation of Russian Christianity
from the Greek Church suggests a ready explanation of
this fact. The English do not mark the day of their
national saint with any of those observances which give
St David's and St Patrick's days so peculiar a character
in Wales and Ireland; but it was customary at no dis-
tant period for people of fashion to wear a blue coat oa
this (lay in honour of St George,

25, St Mark the £vangelut's Day, a holiday of the
Church of England, It was once customary to bless
the fruits of the earth on this day; hence, perhaps, a
notion amongst the peasantry, that to plough or do any
other work on St Mark's Day will be apt to bring down
Divine wrath. The eve of St Mark was distinguished
by some superstitious ceremonies. Maidens met to
make the dumb cake. This <.as done by a number not
exceeding three, and it was to be done in silence. At
twelve o'clock, the cake being prepared, each broke oflT
a piece and ate it; then walked backwards to her sleep-
ing-room. It was thought that those who were to be
married would hear a noise as of a man approaching.
Those who heard nothing were to remain upmarried.
Watching the church porch was another practice^ of
this eve. A man went fasting and took hii; station
there before midnight. It was thought that during
the hour between twelve and one he would see the
spirits of all who were to die in the parish during the
ensuing year walk into church, in the order in which
they were to die, those who were to perish by_ violence
making gesticulations appropriate to the peculiar modes
of their death. There were similar superstitions re-
garding the Eve of St John (.Tune 24) ; which see,

26. Rogation Sunday. — The Sunday before Ascen-
sion is always so called. The three days immediately
following are also called Rogation Days. The Arch-
bishop of Vienne in Dauphin^, about the year 4C9,
caused the litanies or supplications to be said on those
days for deliverance from earthquakes, by which his
city had been much injured. The days were thence
called Rogation — that is, supplication — days, They
were distinguished by great processions of ecclesiastics
throughout the bounds of their districts,

30. Ascension Day, or Holy Thursday, a holiday of the
Church of England, observed by the shutting ot most of
the public oflices. This festival, which invariably occurs
on the fortieth day after Easter, is designed to celebrate
the ascension of Christ into Heaven. It was once dis-
tinguished by great festivities. On thia day, also, there
was a custom of the parish schoolmaster going w ith his
pupils round the bounds of the parish, the pupils car-
rying peeled willow wands, wherewith they struck the
bouni' iries. This was an expedient for keeping those
boundaries in memory, in an age when more accurate
means of attaining the same end did not exist.

Natural History. — Mild weather, with gonial showers,
is the character usually given to April; but in modem

439

CHAMBEBSV TSrCOMATlOS FOB TBE PEOPLE.

times the weather ii often the rerene of thii, being
dry, with culd windt. On the aTersge, indeed, there i*
more north wind and Jm» rain thii month than in any
ether. The progreMire adranoe of temperature from
winter toward rammer if rery apparent thie month,
the general average height of the thermometer being
46 degreei. April it a busy month in the fielde, and
the usual eeed-time for barley. In the gardens it is the
busiest time of the year for seed-sowiv^.

KAY.

Among the Romans, i/his was the mtntii mmorvm,
or month dedicated to the elder persons of their com-
munity, while the next was the mettsis juniorum, or
month of the younger people. Thus most probably
aroae the names of May and June. Others suppose
that May would derive its name from Maia, the mother
of Mercory, who was worshipped on the first day ; but
it is not impossible that Maia and her day were after-
thoughts, when the real origin of the name of May was
out of mind. The Saxons are said to have given this
month the strange-looking name of Trimilchi, because
they then began to milk their cows three times a day.
The Uomans believed it to be unlucky to marry in ''^ly.

1 . St Philip and St James the Lest, a holiday of the
Church of England.

As a popular festival, under the name of May-Day,
this day has been celebrated from time immemorial.
The celebration must doubtless have been prompted
by nature herself: the time of the young flower and
leaf, and of all the promise which August fulfils, could
not but impress the minds of the simplest people, and
dispose them to joyful demonstrations in word and act.
The sun, as the immediate author of the glories of the
season, was now worshipped by the Celtic nations under
the name of Baal; hence the festival of Beltane, still
faintly observed in Ireland and the Highlands of Scot-
land. Even in Ayrshire, tliey kindled Baal's fire in
the evening of May -day till about the year 1790. The
Romans held games called Floralia, at which there was
great display of flowers, and where women danced, if
we are to believe Juvenal, only too enthusiastically.
The May-day jollities of modem Europe seem to be
directly descended from the Floralia.

In England, we have to go back a couple of hundred
years for the complete Ma^-day; since then it has gra-
dually declined, and now it is almost extinct. When
it was fully observed, the business of the day began
with the day itself— that is to say, at midnight. VVe
have the authority of Shakspcare, that with the popu-
lace of England it was impossible to sleep on May
moniing. Immediately after twelve had struck, they
were all astir, wishing each other a merry May, as they
still, at the sumo hour on the Ist of January, wish each
other a happy new year. They then went forth, with
music "uid the blowing of horns, to some neighbouring
wood, where they employed themselves in breaking
down and gathering branches. These they brought
back at an early hour, and planted over their doors, so
that by daylight the whole village looked quite a bower.
The citizens of London went a-Maying in this fashion,
notwithstanding their comparative distance from woods.
They went luarshalled in parishes, or in unions of two
or three parishes; their mayor and aldermen went also;
and we read of Henry Vill. and Queen Catharine
riding from (Ireenwich to Shooter's Hill, attended by
lords and ladies, to join in <.he sport. In some places,
the Mayers brought home a garland Buspended from
a pole, round which they dauce<! In others, and this
was a more general cuntom, there war 'i established
May-polo for the village, which it was their business
to dresi up with flowers and flags, and dance around
throughout all the latter part of the day. A May-pole
was a* tall as the mast of a sloop of fifty tons, painted
with spiral stripes of black anil white, and properly
fixed in a frame to keep it erect. Here lads and
lasses danced in a joyful ring for hours to the sounds
of the viol, and masijuers pcrionuting liobin Hcud,
440

Littl« John, Maid Marian, and othen of the celebrated
Sherwood company of outlaws, as well as morris-
dancers, performed their still more merry pranks.
May-poles, as tending to encourage levity of deport-
ment, were condemned by the Puntans in Elisabeth's
time; James I. supported them in his Book of Sports;
they were altogether suppressed during the time of the
Commonwealth, but got up again at the Restoration.
Now change of manners has done that which ordinances
01 parliament could not do. This object, so interwoven
with our national poetical literature, is all but rooted
out of the land.

A certain superstitious feeling attached to May-day.
The dew of that morning was considered as a cosmetic
of the highest efiicacy; and women, especially young
women, who are never unwilling to improve in this
respect, used to go abroad before sunrise to gather it.
To this day there is a resort of the fair sex every May-
morning to Arthur's Seat near Edinburgh, for the pur-
pose of washing their faces with the dcr. Mr Pepys,
in his ' Diary,' gravely tells us of his wife going to
Woolwich for a little air, and to gather May -dew,
* which Mrs Turner hath taught her U the only thing
i.n the world to wash her face with.' Scott, in his
' Discovery of Witchcraft,' speaks of sprig of haw-
thorn gathered on May-day, and hung in the entrv to
a house, as a presumed preservative against all malign
influences. There was also a practice of making fools
on May-day, similar to what obtains on the first of the
preceding month. The deluded were called May-
goslings, It was held unlucky to marry in May — a
notion which, as already mentioned, existed among the
Romans. It still exists in Scotland, where very fow
marriages take place in May, the higher classes being
equally superstitious on the subject with the lower.

In London, as has been said. May-day was once as
much obisrved as it was in any rural district. There
weiN) several May-poles throughout the city, particu-
larly oiie near the bottom of Catharine Street in th^
Strand, which, rather oddly, became in its latter days
a support for a large telescope at Wanstead in Essex,
the property of the Royal Society. The milkmaids
were amongst the last conspicuous celebraters of the
day. They used to dress themselves in holiday guise
on this morning, and come in bands with fiddles,
wher'^to they danced, attended by a strange-looking
pyrtuidal pile, covered with pewtir plates, ribbons,
and Si'.reainc;:, either borne by a man upon his head,
or by two men upon i hand-barrow; this 7<m called
their garland. The young chininey-sweepers also iiisde
this a peculiar festival, coming ^orth into the streets
in fantastic dresses, and making all sorts of unearthly
noises with their shovels and brushes. The benevolent
Mrs Montagu, one of the first of the class of literary
ladies in England, gave these home slaves [their libera-
tion was effected in 1841] an annual dinner on this
day, in order, we presume, to aid a little in reconciling
them to existence. In London, May-day still remains
the great festival of the sweeps, and much finery and
many vagaries are exhibited on the occasion.

The Robin Hood games and morris-dances, by which
this day was distinguished till the Reformation, appear,
from many scattered notices of them, to have been en-
tertainments full of interest to the common people.
Robin has been alternately styled in at least one
document as the King of May, whii« Maid Marian
seems to have been held as the Queen. The various
scattered particulars respecting these festivities, which
make but dry reading by themselves, have been wrought
up to some advantage by Mr Strutt in his ' Queen Hou
Hall,' where he describes May-day as celebrated by
the servants and dependants of an English baron of the
fifteenth century.

3. The Invention cj tlte Cross, a festival of the Romish
Church, designed to conimeiuorate the finding of the
cross upon which Jesus had suffered, by St Helena.
The festival is shortly called Rood Day.

10. Whit-Sunday, a festival of the Church of England,
designed to commemorate the descent of the Holy Spirit

KEY ¥0 THt! CALENDAR.

npon the apoitlM on th« d&y of Pentecost. In Catholic
countrieB, on this day, while the people arc asaembled
in church, pigeons are suspended above, and wafers,
cakes, oak leaves, and other things are made to shower
down upon the altar — all this as a dramatic represen-
tation of the miracle.

11. Whit-Monday.— A festival of the Church of
England, as is also

12. Wkif'Tueiday. — These three days together are
called Whitsuntide. It forms a term, for which the
15th of Iviay is fixed. The Wednesday, Friday, and
Saturday of this week are Ember Days, and the week
is consequently an Ember Week. {See 8lh February.)
This also was a period of festivity among our ancestors.
They now hod what they called the Whitsvn Ale, which
consisted in a meeting of householders wich their fami-
lies at the church, after service, to partake of a feast
provided by the churchwardens, at which tie young
danced and played at games, while the seniors looked
on. In the days before the poor were supported by
rates, a collection was made on this occasion, usually
found sufficient to provide for them. The Whitsun
Ale is now degenerated, where it exists at all, into a
merry-making at a bam. Whitsunday and Martinmas
terms (May 15 and November 11) are those alone re-
garded for the leasing of all kinds of property, paying
of rents, and engaging of servants, in Scotland.

17. Trinity Sunday, a festival of the Church of Eng-
land, which always takes place eight weeks after Easter.
21. Corpus Christi, a festival of the Romish Church,
always held on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday. It
celebrates the doctrine of transubstar.tiation. In all
Roman Catholic countries it is observed with music,
lights, flowers strewed in tho street, rich tapestries
hung upon the walls, and processions and plays repre-
senting Scripture subjects.

29. Restoration Day, a holiday of the Church cf Eng-
land to celebrate the restoration of monarchy in the
person of Charles II., May 29, 1660, after its suppression
for the preceding twelve years. The populace at one
time wore oak leaves in their hats on this day, with
referenv'^ to the concealment of Charles in the Royal
Oak, wh.ie skulking after the battle of Worcester 1651.
Natural History. — May is a monllx of the best repu-
tation — indeed a general favourite in imagination; but
it often balks the hopes of its worshippers. In favour-
able seasons, it presents many beautiful appearances,
as herbage and foliage of the brightest gr«en, a profu-
sion of natural flowers, soft and genial skies, iishes
leaping, swallows twittering, bees humming, the cuckoo
repeat'ng her note, and the corn coming into blade.
But these appearances are often prevented or much
clouded by cold east winds, most destructive to the
fruit blossom. The greater prevalence of this wind dur-
ing May than in any other month, seems to be chiefly
the cause of the well - known injunction, * Change not
a clout till May be out.' The general average tempe-
rature is about 51 degi^es. We are now arrived at the
latest period of seed-time. In the most backward parts
of the country, barley is still sown ; turnip sowing is
general ; and the seeds of some of the tenderer garden
plants are committed to the earth. The ash, the last-
budding of our native trees, comes into leaf in the
latter part of the month.

JUNE.

The probable origin of tho name of this has been
explained at the same time with that of May.

\l. St Barnabas the Apostle, a holiday of the Church
of England, In the old style, the 1 1th of June was the
longest day; hence an ancient rhyme —

Bnrnaby Bright,

The longest day and the shortest night.

16. St Vitus's Bay. — St Vitus was a Sicilian martyr.
From him, though for what reason is unknown, is
named a well-known nervous affection of the limbs,
proceeding from a disordered state of the viaceral sys-

tem. It was a popular belief that rain on this dajr
indicated rain for th.'rty days thereafter.

24. St John's Day, the Natinly of St John the Bap-
tist, a holiday of the Church of England. The Eve cf
St John, variously called Midsummtr £k>«, was formerly
a time of high observance amongst the English, as it
still is in Catholic countries. Bonfires were every-
where lighted, round which the people danced with
joyful demonstrations, occasionally leaping through
the flame. A certain number of citizens formed a
watch, which nerambulated the streets all night. _ It
was also believed that on this eve, by fasting, waking,
pulling certain herbs, and going through certain eerO'
monies, it was possible to obtain an insight into futurity
on some important points. Fasting St John'" Fa?''^z.»
a. great feat of young women a l ntury or two age
There was also e custom of holding vi ::il in the eknrch-
porch, preuisely the same as described inder St MarkV
Day (April 25).

29. St Peter's Day, a high festival of the RomisL'
Church, and a holiday of the Church of England. It'
is celebrated at Rome with illuminations and magnifi-
cent ceremonials. In England, till a recent period, the-
bonfires and watchings of St John's Eve were alsc
customary on the eve of this festival.

Natural History. — In the central parts of our island,,
this is in general a dry coldish summer month. The'
days, however, are at the longest ; and though June'
ranks only third highest as to temperature, drought or-
evaporation reaches the extreme point. June here'
resembles the May of more southern climes. The'
foliage being now quite fresh and fully expanded, and'
the verdure of the pastures and corn-fields being also*
at the best, the face of nature appears to the greatest^
advantage. Towards the end of the month we meet-
with a near coincidence of four stages of vegetation —
the earing of wheat, tho flowering of the rose, the*
ripening of strawberries, and the commencement of
hay harvest. The general average of the thermometer
is 57 degrees. In the course of the month we have*
the flowering of a <f,reat number of fine perennials and
shrubs, BO that the gardens are usually in great glory.
It is also the time when weeds give the gardener and
husbandman the greatc t trouble.

This, being at first the fifth month of the Roman
year, was call'^d Quintilis. It became the seventh in-
consequence of the reform of the calendar uy Julius-
Cecsar, in whose honour, as he was bom in it, Augustus:
gave it the present name.

3. The day fixed in the calendars as the first of tNe*
Dog-Days, the last being the 1 1th of August. The dog-
days precede and follow the heliacal rising of the star'
Sirius (in the constellation of the Greater Dog) in the
moming, which in Pliny's time was on the 18th of"
July, The extreme heat of this season of the year, .
although to us palpably the efiect of the continued high'
position of the sun, was connected by the ancients with'
the appearance of this star in the moming. They con--
sidered the dog-star as raging, and gave the time the*
appellation of the Dog-Days. The liability of doga-^
to rabies in consequence of the heat of the season was'
connected with the same star, though there was nothing:
but accident in the collusion ; and they butchered these)
animals without mercy. At Argos, there was a festivall
expressly instituted /or the killing of dogs during tUiv
season. By the precession of the equinoxes, the heliacaU
rising of Sirius in the morning has been changed to th«
latter end of Auf^-ust, and in a few thousand yearn mote
it will take place in the depth of winter.

4, The Translation of St Martin Bullion, notiiied as
a festival in the Church of England calendar^ tttou^h
not observed. There is an old saying, not heretofore in
print, * If the deer rise up dry and Tie down dry on St
Bullion's Day, it is a sign there will be » good gose
har'st;' meaning, apparently, that dry weather at thi»
seiwou is favouiable to the crops.

441

CHABIBEBS'S INTOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

Si VbWt Dojl. — On ihia Amy, in MU)i«nt Catholic
timei, the peopl* brausht fith to the »lt«r to obtain the
farour of St Ulriu, ana one lat there lellinj; the same
back to the public for the benefit of the Church.

7. The Tr.tntlation t/St Thoma* a Bechet, noticed as
a fettiral in the Church of Englttnd calendar.

15. St Swilhin'i Day — remarkable on account of a
well-kuowu popular notion, that if it rain ou this day,
there will be more or lew rain for forty dayi to come.
St Swithin lived juit a thouianJ years ago. He was an
emiueiitly pious viid j.'a'iitid >)i/unp of Winchester, and
priest to King £:;Ht)H, Uft win: '..lie deviser ard origi-
nator of tithes in £)i{|;U>.i)id. TL ) htotir loiui that, being
buried bv hit' onu "qr.Rss in t'le ohuiuivard of the
cathedral, the ptiei i.ii '.kindred years ai'Uir 'olt desirous
of givine him >; eatcf .■iOiiOur,arid com'Kir; tJ the work
of t\''> nslating Ka muaii's' 1 ifco 1> ■ intoaM , This was
ontiiC 15th of i.i'iy. Tl.'j wc'j ^^opiM'il i'l hoir work
by a .'loiivy fall oi rain; neitbcr could <Ut^> vtsume their
duty jirxt day, ft the heavy rain still cunlinued. In
short, Itiis rain lifted foitr days, by which time the
priests be<:jiiue convinced that it was desigiied to stop
them in a work which, though well meant on their part,
wan i!l taken on that .f the saint; ar ' thoy , ive up the
point, F.yer :.iaco then, it L;,s !;<;! n iield ti a maxim
that i'l theie Ik r'lin on St Swithi.rii Day (the 15th of
July), there will be rn'it .'or '.'\e forty ensuing days. In
a sciei till' v'orik on ) )ie cliui vf Loinloii, it is acknow-
lede.-i'i thti ' in a iL,.,()rity k.. ■,m 8ui!n>„*.'rs, a showery
ponoi^, which v>ith su'ii^ latitudu as to time and local
circumstances, may be admitted to constitute dail^ rain
for forty days, does come on about the time indicated
by this trauitiou — not that any long space before is often
so dry as to mark distinctly its commericement.'

20. St Margaret't Day. — This day figures in the
Church of England calendar. St Margaret was a holy
Italian vii^rin, martyred in 278. She seems to have
been the ''hristian Luclna: formerly, at Paris, there
was a flock 11}^ to church on this day of all women who
were pregniUit, or thought they might be so in the
course of the year.

25. St Janw-^- the Apostle, a holiday dt the Church of
England. In (Vitholio times, it was customary for the
priests on this A.\y to bless the apples. On St James's
Day, but according to old style (7th August, new style),
oysters appeared in London, and there is a popular
notion that he who eats oysters on that day will never
want money for ika rest of the year.

Natural lliatory, — July is the warmest month of the
year, the eeneraf average temperature being 61 de-
grees. With us it may be accounted the most impor-
tant, as its temperature in a good measure regulates the
ripening of the crop — that is to say, determines whether
it shall be early or late: and in our climate this for the
most part may be reckoned a criterion of its value.
Flora is irt her glory this month, Tho greatest dis-
play of floivers in the whole year takes place in tho
course of July in our climate. The list includes all
the hardy annuals and a ^reat many others. At the
same time all our small fruit are in abundance, cherries
and strawberries in the beginning being followed by
currants, goosel>erries, and raspberries, in all their
varieties. In the early part of the month barley and
oats come iikto ear, and sometimes in very forward sea-
sous a little barley is cut before the end of July ; but
very rarely any other kind of ,;rain is ready for the
sickle before the middle of August. A great part of
the produce of the garden comes to perfection, such as
early cabbage, cauliflower, turnips, peas, beans, lettuce,
&c. Early potatoes also make their appearance, but
an not mature till next mouth.

AUQU8T.

In early Roman times this month was called Seztilis,
at being the sixth of the year. The Julian arrangement
made it the eighth. It acquired the name Augtuttu
in honour of the second of the Caesan, to whom it had
been a fortunate period, he having in it assumed his
first consulship, celebrated three tiiampha, subdued
442

Egypt, received the oath of allegisooe of the legioni
that occupied the Janiculum, and terminated the civU
wars of Home. As already mentioned, being dissatisfiel
with its being a month of thirty days, Augustus took a
day from February to make it one of the longer clans,
like that (July) of his uncle Julius. At the same time,
September and November were each deprived of a day,
which was added in the one case to October, and m
the other to December.

1. Lammas Day, ca,\\«d alK the OvIdtifAuguil. It
is now only remarkable as a day of term for some pur-
poses. It was probably one of the great festival days
of our heathen ancestors; and it is worthy of observa-
tion that it occurs exactly three months after another
of these — Ueltdne. Cormac, bishop of Cashel in the
tenth century, records that in his time four great fires
wero lighted up on the four great festivals of the<
Druids — namely, in February, May, August, And No-
vember: probably Beltane and Lammas were two of
these. Lammas seems to have um.,. bold as a day of
thanksgiving for the new fruits of the earth. It was
observed with bread of new wheat; and there was a
custom in some places at no dis.^nt period for tenants
to be bound to bring in wheat of >.' a new crop to their
lord on or before this day. The most rational explana-
tion of the word is that which derives it from the
Saxon Hlaf -masse (loaf-mass, or the loaf-festival), tho
/ being in time softened away on account of the diffi-
culty of pronouncing it before m. Till the middle of tho
last century, the shepherds in various parts 'tf Scotland
were accustomed to hold festive meetings on Lammas
Day on the tops of conspicuous hills, turf towers and
benches having been previously constructed for the pur-
pose. The Gule of August is probably from the Celtic
Cul or Gul (a festive anniversary). The early Christian
priesthood, finding this word in vogue, Latinised it into
Gula, which means throat. This, taken in connection
with its being the day of the festival of St Peter ad
Vincula (instituted in honour of a relic of St Peter's
chains), seems to have suggested to them to make up a
story of a daughter of the tribune Quirinus having
been cured of a disorder in the throat by kissing the
said relic on the day of its festival. And the Celtic
gid (an anniversary) has thus been the remote cause
of a Christian festival being instituted to Quia (the
throat), and held on the day of St Peter's Chains.

15. The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, a grand
festival of the Romish Church, and a day noted in the
calendar of tho Church of England. It was instituted
in 813, to celebrate the ascension of the Virgin into
heaven. In Catholic countries, this day is marked by
splendid ceremonies and processions.

24. St Bartholomew's Day, a holiday of the Church
of England. Bartholomew was an apostle, but there is
no Scriptural account of his labours or death. The
legend of the Romish Church represents him as preach-
ing in the Indies, and concluding his life by being
flayed alive by order of a brother of the king of Ar-
menia. In memory of his death, it was customary at
our monastic institutions, in the middle ages, to distri-
bute small knives amongst the people. The day has a
horrible celebrity in connection with the maaaacre of
the Protestants at Paris in 1572.

Natural History. — Tho mean average heat of this
iriouth (60 degrees) approaches so near that of July,
that a uarm dry August often compensates for a low
temperature in the precoding month. In the begiMning
of August wc have often the heaviest rain of the whole
year, termed in Scotland the Lammas Flood. July
and August, always our warmest, are often our wettest
months. Southerly and westerly winds have now the
osceiulaiicy, but in the case of very heavy rain the wind
usually falls. Harvest, in the average, commencea
about the middle of this month, but in late seasons nut
till the very end. The order of ripening of our cereal
grains is — barley, wheat, oats. The earliest of our
larger fruit begin to ripen this month — apples and
pears, but hardly plums. Tho later and more tender

KBY TO TBB OALENDAB.

f the legtoof
ited the citU
ig diisatiiiiel
iguitus took Ik
longer clai<i,
le tame time,
ived of a da^,
tober, and in

\fAugutt. It
for some pur-

festiral daye
\y of obierva-

after another
:;a8hel in the
bur great firee
Btivals of the'
gust) And No-
I were two of
id as a day of
garth. It was
d there was a
iod for tenants
n crop to their
ional explana-
s it from the
f-festival), the
nt of the diffi-
e middle of the
,rts •>{ Scotland
igs on Lammas
irf towers and
bed for the pur-
from the Celtic
early Christian
Atinised it into
1 in connection
of St Peter ad
of St Peter's
to make up a
uirinus having

by kissing the

And the Celtic

remote cause

to Gula (the

'8 Chains.
■^irgin, a grand
ay noted in the

was instituted
the Virgin into

is marked by

of the Church
tie, but there is
death. The
him as preach-

life by being
he king of Ar-
ts customary at

ages, to distri-

The day has a
,he massacre of

ge heat of this
r that of July,
isates for a low
n the beginning
lin of the whole
Flood. July
fteu our wettest
have now the
^y rain the win<l
ige, commences
late seasons nut
ng of our cereal
earliest of our
h — apples and
nd more tender

exotic annuali now rome into flower, such as the ama-
ranths, xeranthemuni, *!r.nia, jacobea, China asters, &c. ;
also the gigantic biennial shepherd's club, which sows
itself, and the also gigantic annual sunflower. 8t John's
wort, monkshood, floz, ,\nd others, also flower about
this time. This month is likewise the busiest season
of the herring fishery, an important branch of industry,
which affords lucrative employment to vast numbers
of the working population.

SEPTEMBER.

This was the seventh {septem) month in the Roman
year before the Julian reform of the calendar. The
two first syllables of the name are thus readily ac-
counted for; the last, which also figures at the end of
the names of the three following months, is au ancient
particle of doubtful signification.

I. St Oik»*i Day.— This saint's day figures in the
Church of England calendar. A native of Greece, he
travelled into France in 715, and became abbot of
Nismes. He literally obeved the Scriptural injunction
by selling his patrimony for the benefit of thd poor,
and on one occasion gave his coat to a aick mendicant,
who was cured miraculously by putting it on. St Giles
has thus become the patron saint of beggars and
cripples. St Giles's Church, Cripplega^e, London, and
the High Church in Edinburgh, are dedicated to him ;
and he is the patron saint of the Scottish capital, as far
as it can be said to have one.

3. The Nativiti/ of the Bhiiid Virgin, a grand festi-
val of the Romi^'li Church, and still retained in the
Church of England calendar. This festival has been
held in honour of the Virgin, with matins, masses,
homilies, collects, processions, and other ceremonies,
for upwards of a thousand years. According to the
Catholic writers, a religious contemplative, every jrear
upon the 8th of September, heard most sweet music in
heaven, with great rejoicings of angels. Once he asked
one of them the cause, and was told that upon that day
was celebrated in heaven the nativity of the mother of
Ood. The birthday of the Virgin being thus miracu-
lously communicated to mankind. Pope Servius insti-
tuted a festival to hold it in honour.

14. Holy Rood Day, or the day of the Exaltation of
the Holy Cross, a festival of the Romish Church, still
retained in the Church of England calendar. It cele-
brates the miraculous appearance of a cross in the
heavens to the emperor Constantine. The Wednesday,
Friday, and Saturday after Holyrood Day, are Ember
Days, and the week in which they occur is consequently
termed Ember Week.

21. £( Matthew the Apostle, a festival of the Church
of England.

29. The Festival of St Michael and all the HcJy An-
gels ; shortly, Michaelmas Day, a grand festival of the
Romish and English Churches. St Michael is singled
out for particular mention as being the chief of angels,
or archangel. The theological character of Michael is
obscure. Suffice it here to quote the remark of Wheat-
ley, in his exposition of the book of Common Prayer,
that 'the feast of St Michael and all Angels is ob-
served, that the people may know what benefits are
derived from the ministry of angels.'

Michaelmas, besides being one of the quarter-days
in England for the payment of rents and wages, has
been distinguished from an early period in that and
other countries as the time for the annual election of
corporation officers, magistrates, and other civil guar-
dians of the peace. It has been suggested that the
selection of the day for this purpose might arise from
'the old opinion of tutelar spirits, who have, or are
thought to have, the particular charge of certain bodies
of men, or districts of country, as also that every man
has his guardian angel, who attends him from the
cradle to the grave, from the moment of his coming in
to the moment of his going out of life.'

It is an ancient and extensively-prevalent custom to
have A goose for dinner on Michaelmas Daj. Queen

Elisabeth ii laid to hare been eatbg htr MiehMlmu
goose when die reoeived intelligence of the defeat of
the Spanish Armada. Very curious and recondite
origins have been assigned to this custom, but it seemi
to liave arisen simply from the goose bein^ in finest
condition for the table immediately after it has had
the range of the reaped harvest fields.

Natural History. — This is often the finest month of
the year; yet, as with other portions of our seasons,
it is not to be depended on. In temperature (the
general average is 55 degrees) it ranks between May
and June, yet the first three weeks are often as warm
as any part of the summer ; but there is usually a
sensible falling off in the latter part. In Scotland,
the bulk of the harvest work of the season is usually
effected during this mouth. It is likewise the time
when large fruit comes to perfection. The flower bor-
ders have still a gay appearance, the latest exotic
annuals only beginning to flower at this time. The
dahlia, a magnificent flower of recent introduction, ap-

Crs in all its grandeur during September. It has
n remarked t'jnt at no other period of the year is
the house-fly so numerous.

OCTOBEB.

As already explained, October has its name from
having been the eighth month of the P«man year be-
fore the Julian reform of the calendar. In the time of
the emperor Domitian it was called Domitianus, in his
honour ; but after his death that name was abandoned
by general consent, from a wish tu sink the memory of
so execrable a tyrant. The Saxons culled October
Wynat-monat (wine month), from its being the time
when wines were annually brought ii^to Germany (none
being then made in that country).

2. The festival of the Bdy Angel Ouardimu in the
Romish Church.

9. The day of St Dentils, the patron saint of France.
St Dennis was put to death, with some companions, in
the year 272, upon an eminence near Paris, since called
from that circumstance Montmartre (Mons Martyrum).
According to the legend, his head had no soonei been
cut off, than the body rose, and taking up the head,
walked with it two miles. Portraits of the martyred
saint, carrving his head in his hand, abound in old
prayer-books.

18. The day of St Luke the Evangelist, a festival of
the Church of England. This day was appointed to
be St Luke's festival in the twelfth century.

St Luke was usually represented in the act of writ-
ing, with an ox by his side, having wings and large
horns. The natural habit of this animal in ruminating
upon its food, caused it to be selected as an emblem of
meditation appropriate to this evangelist. At Charl-
ton, a village near Blackheath, about eight miles from
London, a fair is held on St Luke's Day, and at this
fair there was kept up till a very recent period a curi-
ous custom, originating evidently in the emblem of St
Luke. People came to this fair masked ; the men
generally wore women's clothes; and many bore horns
upon their heads. It was a scene of wild riot and
confusion. The booths had horns of various animals,
gilt and otherwise, for sale, and even the gingerbread
was marked with that figure. ' Horns I horns 1 ' was
the universal cry. The gentry used to come in multi-
tudes to see the sports of this occasion. Some frag-
ments of a stained-glass representation of St Luke and
his homed companion still exist, we believe, in a win-
dow of the parish church.

25. The festival of St Crispin and St Crispinian. —
The name of St Crispin is in the Church of England
calendar. Crispin and Crispinian are said to have
been two Roman youths of good birth, brothers, who,
in the third century, went as Christian missionaries to
France, and preached for some time at Soissons. In
imitation of St Paul, they supported themselves by
workmg at the trade of the shoemaker during the night,
while they preached during the day. They were sue-

448

CtIAUBEB£ra IKFORlf AnOH FOB VHE PEOPLB.

oewAil in converting tb« ptopl* to Chrlttlanit/, until
urctted in tlieir oouwo by Rictiui Varui, gorernor
under tlie emperor M»xiraiMi Herouleut. Dutler, in
hii ' Livee of tlie Saintt,' Mjri, ' Tliey were Tictorioui
over thif moit inliuin«n judge hj the patience and con-
■tanor with which thoy bore the moit cruel torment*,
And nniihed their coune by the sword about the vear
387,' The two young marty ra were of coune canoniied,
and a iplendid church was built to their honour at
SoiMoni, in the lixth century. The ihoemaker craft
throughout the whole Chriitian world have from an
early period regarded Crivpin and Critpinian aa their
patron tainta, but particularly the fint. They often
celebrate the day tet apart for these lainti in the calen-
dar with procetiioni, in which Crispin, Criapinian, an
Indian prince, and some other personages whom tiudi-
tion has associated with their history, are represented
in splendid antique dresses. Sometimes a coronation
of Crispin is part of this ceremony, for there is a notion
that he was a royal personige; and hence we find the
■hoemalcers, in Scotland at least, assuming for their
anus a leather knife surmounted by a crown, and
styling themselves * the royal craft.' Whether they
celebrate the day by processions or not, they are sure
to distinguish it by giving themselves up for the time
to jollity. It is to oe hoped, however, for the honour
of ' the royal craft,' that there is no foundation for the
■candalous censure conveyed against them in the fol-
lowing doggrel couplet :—

* On the twonty-flfth uf October,
Tbcro was novur a »outer sober ! '

28. The day of Si Simon and St Jude, a festival of
thu English Church. Simon, usually surnamed the
Canaan ite, remained with the other apcstles till after
Pentecost: it has Iwen surmised that he visited Britain,
and there suffered martyrdom. Jude, otherwise called
Thaddeus, and thought to have been a son of Joseph
by a former wife, is said to have suffered martyrdom
in Persia.

On this day, formerly, it was considered proper to
indue winter vestments. It was always expected to be
rainy. A character in an old play called the Roaring
Girl, says, * As well as I knew 'twill rain upon Simou
and Jude's day.' In another production of the Eliza-
l>ethan stage, some one exclaims, ' Now a continual
Simon and Jude's rain beat all your feathers as flat
down as pancakes.' Perhaps there is some connection
between tb''.« notion and the emblem assigned to the day
in old calfcndars — namely, a ship, which seems to have
been adopted in coi.<idera>' .1 of Simon and Jude hav-
ing been fishermen.

Natural Ilittory. — During this mouth, the average
temperature of which is 4!)f degrees, there are usually
decided symptoms of the approach of winter ; yet th>)
weather of the month is often of a steady and agreeable
character. Bare harvest fields, some of which are in
the course of b'.:ing ploughed for winter wheat, form a
oonspicuous feature of external nature. The foliage of
the trees becomes changed from green into a variety
of iits, which gives the woods a beautiful appeiirance,
ail. is generally admired, although felt to i <ken
that they are soon to be strip]>ed of their sumuiL r ho-
nour*. The misratory birds assemble, and commence
their annual flignt to more genial climes — the swallow
to the coasts of Africa, the nightingale to the southern
■bores of the Mediterranean, a;id the puffin and somo
others either to Africa or to Spain. Towards the end of
tho month, if high winds prevail, the trees are a good
deal bared. In tho gardens less decline is to be re-
marked. The flower-borders still have a gay appear-
ance ; the hollyhock, dahlia, and some other flowers,
being yet in good condition. This is the time of the
laying up of potatoes. In England, it was the favourite
time for brewing, on account of the equable tempera-
ture; and Octubtr is a secondary name for the yeoman's
brown beverat.':e. In this month the gossamer has a
striking appearance, floating like an aerial veil over
the fields, and meshing tho {laisixig traveller.
444

NOVBNBKB.

November obtained its nam* froa being th« ninth
{wntm) month of the Roman yjir, b«.fo(« the reforin
effected bv Caesar. Our Saxon anceaton called it wM-
monat (wind month).

1. AU SainU' Dag, a festival of the Romiah and
Engliah Churches — otherwise called AU Ualhw Day,
The evening of the 31st October is called All Hallow
Even, or Hallow E'en, aa being the visil or eve of All
Hallow Day. Hallow-tide is >• >- .luurehensive name for
both days. The Romiku Church aeaigned thia day to
be held in honour of all those saints who had not par-
ticular days appointed for them.

It does not appear that All Saints' day, or its Eve
wM ever marked by veiy particular obserranoe in the
O.uholic Church. Nevertheless, there is scarcely any
time more distinguished by the common people through-
out the British islands than All Hallow Eve or Hallow-
e'en. This is probably owing to the fact of November
1st having been one of the four great festivals of our
Pagan ancestors. The 1st of Pebruary, the 1st of May,
and the 1st of August, were the other three; the an-
cient names of the two latter are atill in vogue — Beltane
and L>amuiaa. Theae four daya were celebrated by the
kindling of firea in conapicuoua placea, and performing
certain ceremoniea. The firea 01 Beltane and Lammas
have already been spoken of; it ia pro1>able that thoae
of the February festival are I pt up in the Candkmat
blaze, with a slight change of ud,y. Fires were kindled
in Wales, Ireland, the Scottish Highlands, and even
in England, on the 1st of November, till a very recent
period ; and the custom may still be kept up in some
remote places.

Pennant states as follows: — ' In North Wales there
is a custom upon All Saints' Eve of making a great
fire called Coel Coelh. Every family, about an hour in
the night, makes a great bonfire in the most conspi-
cuous place near the house, and when it is almost ex-
tinguished, every one throws a white stone into the
ashes, having first marked it; then having said their
prayers turning round the fire, they go to ^ed. In the
morning, as soon as they are up, they come to search
out the stones, and if any of them are found wanting,
they have a notion that the i>er8on who threw it in will
die before he sees another All Hallow Eve.' The Welsh
also practise many of those rites for divining the future
which are so prevalent on Hallowe'en in other parts of
the United Kingdom. It is mentioned by another
writer that they dance round and jump through the
bonfires, and at the conclusion always run away, ' to
escape the black short-tailed sow.' Vallancey states
that the Irish have now generally substituted a candle
illumination for the fire of the Ist of November.

The Kev. Mr Shaw, in his ' History of Moray,' writ-
ten in the latter part of the lost centunr, speaks of the
Hallow Eve fire being still kindled in Bucnan. In the
' Statistical Account of Scotland,' published at the close
of the century, the same fire is spoken of as kept up in
various parU of the llighlaiids. In the parish of Cal-
lendar, for instance, ' On All Saints' Eve, they set up
bonfires in every village. When the bonfire is con-
sumed, tho ashes are carefully coUectrd in tho form of
a circle. There is a stone put in, ne'ir the circumfer-
ence, for every person of the several families interested
in the bonfire; and whatever stone is moved out of its
place, or injured, before the next morning, the person
represented by that stone is devoted, or fey, and is sup-
posed not to live twelve months from that day.' How
strange thus to find a superstitious custom of this na-
ture existing iti a form so nearly identical in Wales
and Perthshire.

Several writers in the Gentleman's Magazine, in the
latter part of the last century, speak of Hallow Eve
fires being still kindled in various parts of England,
chiefly by persons of the Catholic persuasion. The
practice seems to have been to carry about a quantity
of burning stuff, under the name of linky or tindle.

KEY TO THE CALENDAR.

Theie oeremoniM appcftr to be amonnt lub varlieit
connected with the lit of Norember. Tney are, or have
recently been, ererywhere preT»lent throughout these
Ulande. Ai they are obviouily of a Pagan characti-r,
we conclude that the notability of this teaeon ii of older
date than the introduction of Chriitianity, and that ite
chftrrv'ter m All Saints' Day hoa comparatirely little
affected the popular mind.

We have nolicea from both Perthihite and Ireland
of the lit of November being partly regarded aa the
proper time for returning thanks for the realised fruits
of the earth. The Irish, in this regard, called it La
Moi ^Mo/-— that is, the day of the apple fruit— and
celebrated it with a drink or mess composed of bruised
roasted apples aniongsf. ale or milk. This drink in
time acquired the strai ge appellation of lamb'i wool, a
stupid corruption appa.-ently of the name of the day iu
the Celtic language.

Ringing of bells was one of the modes of celebrating
UallowniAs in England iu the days of our ancestors.
It was a Roman Catholic practice, being designed iu
some way to favour the souls of departed Christians.
For this reason Queen Elizabeth prohibited it.

It was also a custom of our Catholic forefathers to
have a cake baken on this eve for every member of the
family, as a toul mcus cake or tout cake. It was com-
posed of oatmeal, and seeded; and pasties and furmety
were incidental to the same evening. In families of

food condition, a quantity were baken and set up on a
oard, like the shew-bread in old pictures in the Bible,
to be given to visitors, or distributed amongst the poor.
There was a rhyme for the occasion — *A soul cake!
a soul cake! Have mercy on all Christian souls for a
soul cake I' People wont from parish to parish a-totU-
ing, as they called it — that is, begging in a kind of
chant for soul-cakes, or anything to make them merry
on this eve. It is verv curious to find that a century
and a half ago the innabitanta of St Kilda, so far re-
moved from all other parts of Britain, had a custom of
baking a large triangular cake, furrowed on the edges,
on All Saints' Night.

Essentially connected with all these customs are those
better known ones which Bums has so well and so faith-
fully described in his poem of Hallowe'en, All over the
BritUh islands, the festive and fortune-telling practices
of this evening are very nearly the same. As some
proof of this, passages from an English, 1 ish, and
Scottish poet may be presented side by side: —
Two hazel-nuts I threw Into the flame.
And to each nut I gave a sweetheart's name :
This with the loudest bounce me (ore amazed.
That in a flame of brightest colour blazed ;
As blazed the nut, so may thy poHslon grow.
For 'twos thy nut that did so brightly glow I

—The Spell, bit Gay,
These glowing nuts are emblems true
Of what in human life we view ;
The ill-matched c-ouple fret and fume,
And thus in strife themselves consume ;
Or ftrom each other wildly Htart,
And with a noise for over part.
But see the happy, happy pair,
Of genuine love and truth sincere :
With mutual fbndncss, while they bum.
Still to each other kindly turn ;
And as the vital sparks decay,
Together gently sink nway :
Tin lifb's fierae ordeal being past,
lYicir mingled ashes rest at last.

—Hull-Burning, All Ualleuxve, by Charlci Graj)don,
Jean slips In twa wi' tentie ee,
Wba twos she wadna tell ;
Uut this is Jock and this is me,

She nayr, in to hersel' :
He bleezed owrs her, and she owrc him,

As they wad ne'er mair part.
Till fulT I he started up the lum,
And iwa hail e'en a sair heart
To see't that night.

—JIalloKt'cn, bj/ Burnt.

Nuts, besides being thus used for diTination, are craoked
and eaten; and hence, in the north of England, All
Hallow Eve is often culled Nut-orack Night. Apploa
are also extensively eaten, this consurapt of fruit hav.
ing probably some reference to the heathen character
of the day, as that of thankseiving for the produce of
the season. The fortune-telling customs described bv
Bums, besides the abo>e, are — for the girls to pull
stalks from a oom-stack, and ascertain, from the pre-
sence or absence of the top pickle, an interesting poiu»
in their moral history — for a solitary female to go to
a kiln, and throwing a blue clue into the pot to wind
is expecting that ere finished it will be held back, when,
b^ inquiring who holds, a response will be obtained
disclosing the name of the future husband — to eat an
apple at a louking-glass, expectinc to see a vision of
the future hui iiu peeping over the shoulder — to sow
hemp-seed in tue yard, saying, ' Hemp-seed, T. saw thee,
hemp-seed, I saw thee, and her thtit is to be niy true
love come after me and draw thee,' expecting that, on
looking over the shoulder, a vision will be oDtaiuad of
the future spouse in the act of pulling grown hemp —
to win three wechts o' naething in the barn, expecting
to see a like vision — to fathom a, barley-stack thrice,
expecting at the last to embrace your mistress — to dip
a shirt sleeve in a rivulet at the meeting point of the
lands of three proprietors, and then hang it by the fira
to dry, trusting to see such a I'isionary person come
in and turn the other side — to pull stalks of deceased
cabbages blindfolded, without choice, and augur, from
their straightness or crookedness, the figure of the
future spouse, from the earth which clings to the root
the fortune she will bring, and from the taste of the
heart her temper — finally, to set three dishes on the
floor, one empty, one with clean, and one with foul
water, and cause the company to approach them blind-
folded and dip in a hand; when he who dips ir the
empt;)r one is expected to remain unmarried, he who
dips in the foul on'3 to marry to a widow, and he who
dips in the clean oiie to marry a female not hitherto
married. The whole of these rites are as familiar to
the Welsh, Irish, and Northumbrian, as to the Ayr-
shire peasantry. Many of them are also practised iu
England on St John's Eve, tho 23d of June.

Hallowe'en is still observed, but the more daring
rites are generally given up. Meetings of young per-
sons take place, and a plentiful store of nuta and apples
being provided, a few simple amusements are practised.
The experiment of the burning nuts, to test the dura-
bility of love or friendship, is still a favourite. Duck-
ing for apples is another. A tub being provided, nearly
full of water, and the fruit thrown in, the young people
endeavour to seize an apple with their teeth — a task
of much more difliculty than might be supposed, and
which generally puts the dress and tresses of fair ex-
perimentalists into considerable disorder. The baffled
eflforts of the various parties raise of course shouts of
laughter. Or a cross stick is suspended by a string
from the ceiling, with a short burning candle on one
end and an apple on the other. While it swings
rapidly round, lads and lasses, with their hands tied,
endeavour to catch the apple with their teeth, but
generally suffer a ^ood deal from the candle before
they succeed in their object. Here, also, failure is a
source of infinite aintisement. It is rather remarkable
that Bums has not introduced into his poem any notice
of these sports, which, like the others, are prevalent
over the whole of her Majesty's home dominion/. It
may not bo out of place here to remark, that the jest
of the apple and candle is nearly the same as that of
the quintain, a favourite sport of our ancestors, com-
monly practised in summer. The quintain was a heroic
figure of wood, on a vertical pivot, used as a butt for
the practice of tilting. In this case it had a croes
board, one end of which was broad, while the other
was furnished with a heavy bag of sand. The trick
was, to come tilt against the broad end, and escape
receiving ft knook-flown blow from the sand-bag.

2. AUSoula' Day, or the Commemoration of the FaHh-

iib

CHAMBBRmi mrOVHAUOK rOB THK PEOPLE.

ful n«pnr*td.~Krtrj •olemn fMtlval of tb« Ponlih
Church, which hu miuiwi iinrt eoicnionlofl tppropriivte
to the occmIoi), ilcdi^iiea in f»TOur of the iouU of nil
the do«d. ' Otiilloii, abbot of Cluny, in thn ninth cen-
tury, flrit enjoined tho cereimuiy of pr*ying for the
dead on thi* dny in hif own moiiaitery; and the like
practiiw was partially aibipted by other reli){ioin houM!i
until the ycAi' !)!*l), when it wai eatabliihe<l ai a mineral
fentivnl throughout the wcitorn churchei. To mark
the pre-eminent importance of thia featival, if it hap-
pened on a Sunday, ir. \rai not poatponod to tho Mon-
day, a* waa th« caao with other auch aolemnitiea, but
kept on the Saturday, in ordrr that thn chv/rch miyht
the sooHfr aid the tufferinj souU ; and that the dead
might havi) every benefit from tho pious exertiona of
tho lifing, tho rernrmbmiice of thia ordinance waa kept
III) by |ieriona drcastd iti black, who went round the
diiTerent towna, ringing a loud and diamal-toned bell
at the comer of each itreet, orery Sunday evening
during the month, and calling upon the inhabilanta to
remember the deceaaed Ruft'ering the expiatory flamea
of Pargatory, and to join in ]»rayera for the rcpoae of
their loula.' — Brady't Clavia Calendaria.

5. The anniroraary of tho discovery of the Ciunpowder
Plot in 1605, an.l of iho landing of King William IIF.
in I'j88; observed in the Britiah dominiona aa a holi-
day, and celebrated by tho Church of England by a
form of prayer with thankagiving. There ia also a
popular celoDration of thia day. From an early hour,
the boya go about collecting niatcriala for a bonfire,
or money wherewith to purchase thorn. In aomo, per-
haps moat placea, they carried with them a frightful
figure compoeed of an old juit of clothes itufl'ed with
straw, to represent (Juy Fawkea. They called on the
paaacngera and houaeholders to ' remember ( uy,' or
aboutt'd aome balderduiih rhymci. In the evening the
bonfire is lighted, with Ouy Fawkes in the middle of
it, amidat tumultuous merriment. The firing of guna
aa a token of rejoicing, we are glad to say, ia now dis-
continued on thif) day, und we trust the other absurd
usagea will uoon likewibu disappear.

II. St Marlin'a r>a</, or Afartinmat, in the Church
of England calendar. Popularly, thia in one of the
most remarkable day* of the year, especially in Scot-
land, where Whitsunday and Martinmas are the two
great ternia for leases and engagement of servants, the
latter being that at which the occupation of farms
uaually commences. Fonnerly, it waa a ijuarterly
term day in England : a payment of otim at Martinmas
occurs iu th-; Doomsday Survey. On the continctit,
from an early age, the day has t>cen diatinguiahed con-
vivially ; and this apparently for two reasons — namely,
that now the people first tasted the wines of the sciison,
and killed tho animals required to be wltod for their
winter proviaions. The entrails of thcae animals, pre-
pared as aauaages, or blood-puddinf;8, l)ecame tho sub-
ject of an immediate feast, while the rest of the meat
waa salted and set aside. In some countries, also, the
goftte, which ia elsewhere enjoyed at Michaelmas, woo
now presente<l. The killing of beeves at Martinmas
for winter provision was formerly universal in northern
Europe, iu consequence of there being no means of
keening then* alive iu winter; since the improveinout
01 DusLaudry in some countries, the custom baa been
given up, and fresh meat used all the vcar round. The
feasting upon the entrails was equally universal. So
much was bll this associated with Martinmas, that in
Scotland a beeve killed at that time waa called a mart,
or mairt. In tho old book of lawa attributed (errone-
ously) to David I. ot' Scotland, it ia provided thui ' the
fleshours sail serve the burgessis all the time of the
■lauchter of Mairti.^ In Northumberland, also, a
Martinnkos bullock is called a mart. Tusser, in his
curious metrical t^'catise ou husbandry, writt«u iu the
time of Henry \'III., says —

When 1 JMter coineB. who known nut tlmn
Tlut vi'ul iukI bacon is tho man 7
Auti Marlinnuu ht-e/doth bear good tuck,
When country fulka do dainties lack.
446

nishop Hall, in Ui • 8»tirea,» wrlttm in the tim« of
Jaroea I., m«ntiona

— — - l>rifxi llltahM of (oDu) amokad beer*,
lUnii'd on u wrlthen wytbs ilntw Martin't er
U aiipeara that the contents of the puddingf nod*

in bngland, were com|)osed of bloo<l, suet, ani groats;
and tnerti was an enigmatical proverb tlieucc arising,
that 'blood without groats was nothing,' meaning
that birth without fortune waa of little value. Down
to near the end of the last century there was not a
family above the poorest condition in the rural districts
of Scotland which had not a mart, or a ahare in one,
and aalted meat was the only food of the kind used in
winter ; now, there is no auch practice known.

Martin, in whoie honour this festival was at first
instituted, is said to have been bom in Lower Hungary
abiiut .'iUi, and to have originally been a soldier. After
a number of miraculous adventures, he settlttd as a
hermit in the hollow of a rock near Tours in the south
of Franco, whore ho was greatly venerated. He died
bishop of Tours in ',107. When a few tine days occurred
alw)ut this time of tho year, they were called Ht Mar'
tin's mimmfr.

2.3. St Clfment's Day. in the Church of England
calendar. Clement is spoken of by St Paul as one of
his fellow-labourers. Monkish iouagination has sup-
plied hint with a history and a martyrdom. He is snid
to have been thrown into the sea with an anchor fixed
about his neck. An anchor is therefore assigned to
him as an emblem : of this the metropolis presents a
conspicuous memorial in the anchor which forms the
vane of the church of St Clement Danes, in the Strand.
St Clement is held as the patron saint of the black-
smiths. It was formerly customary for boys, and the
lower class of people generally, to go about on this day
begging fur liquor, wherewith they made a regale at
night. Hence, in a certain class of old almanacs, the
day was signified by the figure of a pot.

2f). Thia is one of tho days on wiiich Advent may
commence. Advent (literally the Coming) ia a tenn
a)>plied from an early period of odeaiastical history to
the four weeks preceding Christmas, which were ob-
served with penance and devotion, in reference to the
approaching birth of Christ. There are four Sundays
in Advent, the first of which is always the nearest
Sunday to St Andrew's Day (November 30).

.10. St Andrew's Day. — The festivBl day of this saint
<s retained in the Church of England calendar. St
Andrew was one of the aposilea. His history, aa re-
lated by the Catholic writers, represent him as mar-
tyred in the yeor 66 at Patrsc in Greece, u]>on a cross
of tho form of tne letter X, which accordingly is still
recognised as Si; Andrew's Cross. A supposed relic of
this cross, carried to Urussels in the middle ages, caused
its figure to be adopted as a bad"e for the knights of
the Golden Fleece. Some relics of the apostle himself
arc said to have been carried by a Greek devotee named
St, Hegulus, to Scotland, where they were placed in a
church built at a place which subsequently l>ecame dis-
tinguished by the name of St Andrews. St Andrews
bccaine the seat of the Scottish primacy ; and from this
cauBO probably it was that St Andrew was in time con-
sidere<l as the patron saint of Scotland. In that coun-
try, however, there is scarcely any observance of this
day in any manner ; it is only when Scotsmen are
abroad, and have occasion to select a day for an annual
convivial meeting, that St Andrew's Day comes into
notice. TImto used to be a procession of Scotsmen ou
this day in Iiondon, with singed sheeps' heads borne
before them. It in remarkable that St Andrew is also
a tutelar saint of the Russians, probably in consequence
of the (ireek locality of his martyrdom. There is an
ancient and wi<lely-prevalent custom connected with
St Andrew's Day, to which Luther has adverted.
Maidens, on the eve of this day, stripped themselves,
and sought to learn what sort of husbands they were tu
have by praying in these terms — * Oh, St Andrew, cause
that I obtain a good pious husband; to-night show me
the figure of the man whj will take mc to wife.'

KEY TO THE OALINDAB.

the ltm« of

e,
tti

\gt iiimI*

•nov •ricitifTi
a,' meaning
ilue. Down
e wai not a
ural districU
hare in one,
kind uied in
irn.

waa at first
irer Hungary
oldier. After
•ettled a« a
in the louth
ed. He died
lays occurred
lUed at Afar-

of England
'aul ai one of
ion hai sup-
1. He ii ani'l

anchor fixed
> ataigncd to
lis preaenti n
ich forma the
n the btrand.
of the black<
soya, and the
lit on thii day
le a regale at
ulinanacf, the

\\ Advent may
ng) ia a tenn
licftl hiatory to
liich were ob-
ilerence to the
four Sundays
the nearest
30).

y of this saint
alendar. St
history, as rc-
hiin lis niar-
ui>on a cross
liinjrly is still
posed relic of
e ngea, caused
tho knights of
jiastle himself
levotee named
re placed in a
ly liecame dis-
St Andrews
and from this
,s ill time con-
In that coun-
irvonee of this
Scotsmen aro
for an annuul
ly comes into
' Scotsmen on
heads borne
/Vndrew is also
in consequence
There is an
onnected with
has adverted,
ed themselves,
Is they were to
Andrew, cause
night show me
.0 wife.'

Natural JTiilorp. — In this month the builnest of
Tegetation ex|>flriencei its death. The trees are now
tlioroughly itripi>«d of their foliage. It is reputed aa
a gloomy montn; but the temperature is sometimes
agreeable in the earlier part of it, and ita average for
the whole term ia 4 Is dugreea. A conaiderable nii.nher
of plants remain in tlownr throughout November. The
gloom of tho month ia laid to have a depreasing effect
on the apirita of the English nation; l«i) those who are
liable to such influences lay to heart the following re-
marks of Johnson in the ' Idler:'—' The distinction of
leaaons is produced only by imagination acting upon
luzurr. To temperance every day ia bright, and evury
hour ia propitious to diligence. He that resolutely ex-
cites hia faculties, or exerts his virtues, will soon make
himself superior to the seasons, and may set at defiance
the morning mist and the evening damp, tho blasts of
the oast and the clouds of the south. Instead of look-
ing for spring with anxious and caring mind, enjoy the
present day; there aro pleasures even in November.'

DECEMBER.

So called at being originally tho tenth of the Roman
year. Our Anglo-Saxon ancestors called December
loitUa monat — that is, winter month; but after becoming
Acquainted with Christianity, this name was changed
into heligh immat, or holy month, with reference to the
celebration of the nativity on its twenty-fifth day.

G. St Nichda.i's Dai/. — Retained in tho Church of
England calendar. St Nicholas wii - Archbishop of
Myra, in Oreece, a. d. 34'2. Ho is regarded as the
patron saint of children and of mariners, probably in
ronsequeiico of his benevolent zeal in the protection of
orphans and stranded seamen. Churches built near
the sea are ir, many instances dedicated to St Nicholas.
He is also said to have shown much kind interest in
the fftto of young women, sometimes secretly throwinf;
purses into the chamber-windows of those who lacked
dowries. Hence has arisen a custom prevalent over a
large part of the Christian world. On his eve, preser.ts
are hid in tho shoes of those to whom any one wishes to
give a pleasing suq)rise; and these, being found in tho
moniing,are jocularly said to bo gifts from St Nicholas.
St Nicholas is also considered as the tutclor saint of
scholars, or clerks, and of robbers. Tho fraternity of
parish-clerks have thought themselves entitled by their
name to odopt him as their patron. How robbers should
have come to be called St Nicholas's clerks, or St Ni-
cholas's knights, it is not easy to seo, unless it were
from the coincidence of his name with one of the slang
appellations of the devil.

Throughout the middle ages, there was a universal
custom of electing a kind of mock bishop on St Nicho-
las's Day. A boy, possibly taken from amongst the
choristers, was chosen by his associates as bishop, ar-
rayed in suitable vestments, and indued with appro-
jjv- i.e powers, which he enjoyed for some doys. The
vnt.nl. prolate was led along in a gay procession, bless-
iiig t'.ii' r inning multitude as he went, and he was even
.\llo>'. -l '!>> sing mass and to mount the pulpit and
frtr, v.. Edward I., in his way to Scotland in I'JOO,
tietktd vespers by a boy bishop at the chapel of Heton,
near Newcastle. The boy bishop at Salisbury is said
to have had the power of disposing of any prebends
that fell vacant during his term of oflice; and one who
died at that time had a monument in the cathedral,
representing him in his episcopal robes. Mr Warton
is of opinion that we see some faint traces of the rise
of dramatic entertainments in the strange mummeries
connected with the election of the Boy Bishop.

«. The Conception of the Blesied Virgin in the Romish
and English calendars.

11. The fourteen days from this to Christmas Eve
were called the Halcyon Days, and supposed to be, in
their calm and tranquil character, an exception from
the season. The term, which is now a regular adjec-
tive in our language, is derived from the bird, ki.ig-
fisher or halcyon, wnich, from the days of Aristotle at

least, has been the subject of a onrioui lupentltlon. Tlia
ancients supposed that it built its nest on the ocean, and
brought forth its young at the winter solatice. To ac-
<-ount for the preaervUion of tho neat and young amldal
the severity of the season, they imagined that the bird
had a power of lulling the raging of tho waves during
the period of incubation; antf this power was believed
to reside in its song.

13. .V< Lucia'a /Jay.— Retained In the Church of Eng-
land calendar. Ht Lucia was a young lady of Syracuse,
who obtained a high character for a devout and chari.
tabic life, and died in the year 304. The last of the
four series of lOinber Days cummoncei on the Wednes-
day following this feativul.

16. O liapi«taia.—'V\\\t diiy is so marked in the
church calendar, prnliably from an authem sung oa
this day in the Romish Church beginning, ' sapicntt*
queo ox ore altissimi prodidisti,' &c,

21. St Thomas the Apoitle, a festival of the English
Church. It was customary fur women to go a-gooding
on St Thomas's Day ; that is, they went about begging
money, and presenting in return sprigs of palm, and
bunches of primrores, probably witn a view to the do-
coration of tneir houses against Christmas.

25. Chriilmai Day, observed from an early period ai
the nativity of our Lord, and celebrated not only by
tho religious ceremonies from which the name of the
day is partly taken, but by popular festivities of the
most joyful kind. In England, Christmas ia held by
tho church as a solemn festival, and distinguished by
the complete cessation of business — an honour paid to
no other day besides Good Friday. But within the
last hundred years, the festivities once appropriate to
the day have much fallen off. These at one time lasted
with moi'e or less brilliancy till Candlemas, and with
great si>irit till Twelfth Day; but now a meeting in the
evening, little different from a common dinner party,
though sure to be marked by a roast and plun. -pudding,
and pretty generally followed by a game at cards, is all
that distinguishes Christmas in most families.

In former times the celebration of Christmas began
in the latter part of the previous day — Christmas Eve.
The house was first decked with holly, ivy, and other
evergreens. Candles of an uncommon size were then
lighted, under the name of Christmas Candles; an enor-
mous log, called the Yule Clog, or Christmas Block,
was laid upon the fire : the people sat round, regaling
themselves with beer. In the course of the night, •
small parties of songsters went about from house to
house, or through the streets, singing what were called
Christmas Carols — simple popular ditties, full of joyful
allusions to the great gifi from Qod to man in the
Redeemer. A mass was commenced in the churches
at midnight, a custom still kept up in the Catholic
Church. At one period, the people had a custom of
wassailing the fruit-trees on this evening; that is, they
took a wassail bowl, threw a toast from it to the tree,
and sung a song, expecting thus to secure a good crop
next season. It was thought that, during the night,
all water was for a short time changed into wine, and
that bread baked on this eve would never become
mouldy. These notions are essentially foolish; but as
they are all well-meant adorations of the simple spirit
of the people, they should not be hastily condemned.

The carols wero more generally sung in the morning
of Christmas Day. A contributor to the ' Gentleman's
Magazine,' in lUU, describing the manner in which
Christmas is celebrated in the North Riding of York-
shire, says — 'About nix o'clock on Christmas Day I
was awakened by a sweet singing under my window;
surprised at a visit so early and unexpected, I arose,
and looking out of the window, I beheld six ^^oung
women and four men welcoming with sweet music the
blessed mom.' It may scarcely be imagined how de-
lightfully at such a moment would fall upon the half-
slumbering ear such strains as tho following : —

Ood rest you, merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,

447

— jyii^d.ijj; ' jyjiM..,

CHAMBBRSW IirrORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

For Jmiu C*'ritl oat S*vlour

Totr„iin'. Bn in'i powiT,

\Vh«n •"" "'"n » una utrny.

OUi'.h ." nlP'.>..(url mil J^.y,
Tor ii ^ /n C'ki iit ./ur Havloiir
Wim bom on ClirUtniM Ouy.

In llethk'hvni In Jewry

ThU blmwU bubo wu born.
And UM upon a manKi'r,

Upon till* blnMul morn s
Tha which lila mother Mury

Nothlnii illil tuko In si-uriu
Ob tidlnKM, All.'.

rhrittmai carolg nro ntnoiigat the olJeit of English
lonffi. A coUectinn of them wm printed bv VVyiik^n
de Worde in 1A'21. They arc itill printett on ilngle
■heetf, which are sold by uhnpinen or dealer* in cheap
liternturo. There ii alio more than one modem col-
lection of theae curious productions of modern ages.

The religious serrico of Christmas Day receives but
» small share of attention from old writers. In fact,
the day was chiefly distinguished by the popular f*-..!,!-
vities. Its gTA'ul feature was a feast, of peat i.nund-
ance, and at which a few particular dishes regularly
appeared, above all, plum-porridge and mince-nie. In
every great ball, whether of a man of rank or or a great
corporation, there was a boar's head ushered in by
minstrelsy. It was customary for the rich and noble
to treat their humble dependents, and to meet with
them on terms of eiiuality, as considering that all men
are regarded alike uy the religion of him whose natal
day they are celebrating, A sort of license prevailed.
A branch of the mistletoe being hung up in the hall,
«r over the doorway, the youths were understood to
have a right to kias any maiden whom they could in-
reigle under it. At York, the freedom of the time was
■o extreme, that there were regular proclamations
allowing women of evil repute and gamblers to come
to the city and walk about openly for a certain number
of days. It was also customary to elect a person as
Lord of Mitrule, who went about taking the lead in
every kind of extravagant sport and merriment which
the wit of man could devise. The election and func-
tion* of this personage were perhaps the most singular
part of the festival. According to Stow, ' at the feast
of Christmas, there was in the king's house, wherever
he lodged, a Lord of Misrule, or Master of merry Dis-
ports, and the like had ve in the house of every Noble-
man of honour or good worship, were he spiritual or
temporal. The Mayor of London, and either of the
Sheriffs, had their several Lords of Misrule, ever con-
tending, without quarrel or offence, who should make
the rarest pastime to delight the beholders. These
lords, beginning their rule at AUhallond Kve, con-
tinued the same till the morrow after the Feast of
the Purification, commonly called Candlemas Day : in
which space there were fine and subtle disguisings,
masks, and mummeries, with playing at Cards for
Counters, Nayles, and Point* in every House, more for
pastimes than for gaine.*

The management of the plays usually acted at Christ-
ma* in the halls of colleges und law societies, fell to the
care of the Lord of Misrule. The particular function-
ary elected in the inns of court in London, afler exer-
cising all the duties and going through the parade of
royalty for a fortnight, at an expense of a couple of
thousand pounds, was knighted at Whitehall by the
real sovereign of the land.

In Scotland, before the Reformation, the religious
house* had a similar officer for the Christmas revels,
called the Abbot of Unrtaion, whose particular func-
tions are graphically portrayed by Scott in his novel
of 'The Abbot.' Toe custom was suppressed by
statute in 1 HhTi.

26. St SUphen't Day, observed as a festival of the
Church of England. There was formerly a widely-pre-
Talent dogma that it va* good to bleed horset about
448

this time of the year, and St Stephen's Day wai that
chosen by most people for the purpose. On this day,
also, bleasinga were Iniploreil upon pastures.

'ii. tit Jmh tht Kvanatliil't Uaj/, observed as a fes-
tival by the Church of England. Hecause John drank
poison, without dying in conseauenct, it was supposed
that those who put their trust In him were safe l>oiu
all injury from that cause.

!2U. ChiUitrmai, or Holy InnoeeiU'i Day, observed
by the Church of Uome with masses for the children
killed by Herod. It was considered unlucky to marry,
or to begin any work, on Childermas Day. The learned
(Iregory says, ' It hath been a custom, and yet is else-
where, to whip up the children upon Innocent's Day
morning, that the memory of Herod's murder might
stick the closer, and in a moderate proportion to a4;t
over the " crueltie again in kinde." '

31. The luat day of the year is called in Scotland
Hogmanay, n word which has fruitlessly exercised the
wits of the etymologists. The Scottish people, over-
looking Chriitinas in obedience to the behests of their
religious teachers, have transferred the merriment of
»';^ .>.<Muu to i4i,t,''ianay and New Year's Day, which
they accordingly abandon to all kinds of festivity.
Handsel Monility, or the first Monday of the year, is
also an occasion uf festivity. On Hogmanay, the chil-
dren in small towns perambulate amongst the neigh,
hours of the better class, cnring at their doors, ' Hog.
manay I ' or aometimvs the following rhyme :—

lloKmnnny, trollolny,

(ik''«i)f your whlto bread nnd none of your grny j

in obedience to which call, they are served each with
an oaten cake. In tho evening, there are merry mak-
ings, which are always prolonged to twelve o'clock,
which has no sooner struck than all start up excitedly,
and wish each other a happy new year. Small ven-
turous parties take a kettle with hot ale posset, called
' a hot pint,' and go to the houses of their friends, to
wish them a hHi'ity now year. Whoever comes first,
is called in that houae ' tho First Foot,' and it is deemed
necessary on auch occasions to offer the inmates both
a piece of cako and a sip from tho poaaet kettle, other-
wiae they would not bo lucky throughout the year.
Thia is called ' Pint- Footing.' Next day, all |)eople go
about among all other people's houses ; presents are
given amongst relations ; and dinner-parties close the
evening. Formerly, the first Monday of the year was
also much observed as a festive day, and time for giving
presents, from which latter circumstance it was called
llandttl Monday. The Handsel Monday, old style, is
still, in some rural districts, the chief feast day of the
season. On the evenings of Christmas, Hogmanay,
New Year's Duy, and Ilandsel Monday, parties of
young men and boys went about diaguised in old shirta
and paper vizards, singing at tho various houses for a
small guerdon. These guizarts, as they were called,
also acted a rustic kind of drama, in which the adven-
tures of two rival knights, and the feats of a doctor,
were conspicuous. Almost everywhere in Scotland tho
festive and frolicsome obsorranccs of the New Year
tide have very much declined.

Natural Uittory. — December is the darkest, but not
the coldest month of the year : the general average
temperature is 40 degrees. The deciduous tree* are
now completely stripped of their foliage, and the ground
often shows a snowy covering, although it is rarely
that there is much strong ice in December. .Amidst
the general desolation, the pines and other evergreei.s
form an agreeable resting-place for the eye. The rose
also continues to blow during this month. Formerly,
the Glastonbury thorn was a great wonder in England,
being supposed to blow regularly on Christmas Day.
The monks of the abbey there represented it as the
staff of .Joseph of Arimathea, which, being inserted by
him in the ground, had miraculously sprouted out int»
a living tree. But it is now ascertained to have been
only a member of a certain species of thorn well known
iu the Ym\, ht blowing iu the depth of winter.

THE PRIVATE DUTIES OF LIFE.

The ternnoral duties enjoined on rational boinjti timjr
ha thui ciaM«d : — I. Diitiei which una nw«t to himielf.
— 3. Dutiai which ariio from domeitic relationi. —
3. Dutiei whiih ariic in the coinnmnitici of which ouch
one ii peciiliarlv a ineniber, — 4. Dutiei which ariie
from the political relatiuniof fociety.— .5. Dutiet which
arin between individualv who are of different nationi.
We propote in the meantime to treiit of thoH dutiei
which a rational being may be laid tu owe to himielf,
or, a« they are generally termed, rntVATE i)iiTiE.t.

LIPE AS A WHOLE.

liifo Is a luccesiion of parts — infancy, youth, man-
hood, maturity, decline, old iiue, and death. What man
becomes dependi in part on nil genealo^^y : ai hii in-
fancjT ii, so will be his youth; as his youth is, so will
bo his manhood; as his manhood is, so will be his ma-
turity; as maturity is, so will be decline; as decline is,
in will be old age. If youth be passed in idleness, igno-
rance, fidly, and crime, how can one hold his way in the
world, Hide by side with the intelligent, the worthy, and
the virtuous { If manhood has been passed in low pur-
Ruiti, in rooting in the heart evil propensities, in wast-
ing natural vigour, what awaits one in old age but po-
verty, pity, and contempt 1 If infancy be devoted to the
reasonable expansion of the physical and intellectual
powers — if knowledge of duty be acquired, and bo rightly
uied, will not manhood be worthy, maturity respectable,
decline honoured, and old age venerable i Life, then,
must be taken as one event, made up of many successive
ones. On these uni^uestionablo truths we found all
that is worthy of notice iu the following pages,

PUnPOSES OF LIFE.

Wo believe that human life, rightly understood, and
rightly used, is a beneficent gift; and that it can be so
understood and used. It is irreconcilable to reason
that man was sent into this world only to suffer and to
mourn; it is from his own ignorance, folly, or error
that he does so. He is capable of informing himself;
the means of doing this are within his power. If he
were truly informed, he would not have to weep over
his follies and errors. It is not pretended that every
one can escape at once from a benighted condition, and
break into tne region of reason and good senoe. Uut
it is most clear, from what is well known to have hap-
pened in the world, that each generation may improve
upon its preceding one; and tnat each individual, in
every successive period of time, may better know the
true path, from perceiving how others have gone before
him. There can be no miracle in this. It will, at best,
be a slow progress : and the wisdom arrived at in one
age must command the respect of succeeding ones, and
receive from them the melioration which they con con-
tribute. We understand nothing of what is called tLe
perfectibility of human nature; but we understand this,
that if human nature can be made to know wherein its
greatest good consists, it may be presumed that this
good will be sought after and obtained. Man was created
on this principle, he acts on this principle, although he
is seen so frequently to make the most deplorable and
distressing mistakes. If it be not admitted that man-
kind will always strive to obtain whatsoever seems to
them good, and strive to avoid whatsoever seems to
them evil, their moral teaching and training is in vain.
If this principle be admitted, the sole inquiry is — what
then is good t and what is evil t

INFANCY.

Every human being comes into the world with phy-
sical and intellectual aualitiei, propensities, and apti-
tudes, which distinguish him as much from all other
No. 79.

beings, as ho differs from them in flaure and appear-
ance. As society is a consenuenco of the Creator's will,
as the proper divisions of labour are a necessary con-
senuenco ot society, it is not irrational to suppose that
individuals aru born with adaptation to labour in soma
departments, and not in others. In the early stages of
life theso ((ualitios are sometimes developed, whether
they happen to bo understood or not. Kut almost im-
mediately after gaining loniu hol<l on life, all human
beings become subject to the incidents which tend to
strengthen original qualities, or to obscure or stop their
progress, and even to suppress them, and engraft on
the original stock those which are entirely different.
It would be unjust to make infancy responsible for the
evils and errors which arise in this manner; but cer-
tainly those who have the guidance of infancy are re-
siionsible, and will be held to be so. Children have m
right to rniiiplain, and society hns a right to complain,
if duties to children be neglected; and it is needless
to remark that there is another and inevitable account-
ability of a fur more serious character. V^'e shall have
occasion to remark on the very onerous and important
duties of those who, according to the order of natural
and necessary law, are intrusted with forming and giv-
ing effect to natural qualities. This matter, however,
properly belongs to another place.

YOUTH.

Wo come now to a period when accountability begins,
in all the relations which were placed in the division of
duties. If it be asked at what age this is to be tixed,
we answer, that the good senile of judicial law recog-
nises that a child may be a witt^ess in solemn judicial
proceedings, when inquiries addressed to him are so
answered as to make it certain that he understands the
nature and the obligation of an oath. This may be at
the age of ten or twelve } ears. But the perception of
right and wrong, and the sense of duty, begin at an
earlier age. There certainly arc children of the age
of eight years who have a very clear sense of moral
propriety; and very many who, between that age and
twelve, can discern and reason on right and wrong,
and arrive at a very sound judgment. We shall pre-
sume that all into whose hands this sheet may fall will
be fully capable of comprehending its purpose, and of
judging of its fitness to be useful to them. We must
assume, then, that we are speaking to those who are
willing to be instructed in serious things, and that they
will not reject instruction from any source, however
unpretending it may be, if it come to them iu a manner
which they can reconcile with their own reason, and
with their own duty to themselves. Young persons
think that they can see for themselves, and that they
need not to be told what others have seen. But let us
reduce this to common sense. Suppose a person to be
under the necessity of going from the place in which
he has lived, and which is familiar to him, to a far dis-
tant place. Let it be supposed that the road he must
travel is crossed by many roads, and that he is fre-
quently to find himself at points where several roads
are seen, either one of which, so far as he can dii;cem,
may be the right one. Will it be of use to him to have
been told, before he departs, which of these many roads
to take t Will it help him onward to hh\ destination,
when he is bewildered, and unable to d''cidii for himself,
to find some one who can assure him of ' lo rigi\t course {
Life is a journey. Every step we ta> a i' brings us
to something new, something unexpected, a.nd perhaps
entirely different from that which was looked for. Those
who have gone through it before us have left us their
instructions in what manner it is to be undertaken and
accomplished. They tell us of their own troubles and

449

OHAMBEBffS IKFOBUATIOir FOB THE PEOPLE.

difficultiei; they wft:i» Uf how to aroid the like in our
own journey. Which ii wiieit — to liiten to them, and
weigh the worth of their warning, or to push on heed-
leHly, and take the consequences 1

HEALTH — POOD.

We suppose that every child of the ages last spoken
of can form some opinion of the Talue Jf health. Most
of them hare suffered more or lef < by that time. Thev
arv now old enough to consider the purposes for which
life has been given to them. They then feel that the
purpose is to be pleased and gratified; to want and to
hare; and that restraint is disagreeable. But let thpia
remember that life is a whole; that though all of them
will not, yet some of them will, attain to its longest du-
ration, and that it is wholly uncertain to whom that lot
will fall. Long life may depend, and of^en does depend,
on what children do, or omit, at an early age. Among
the first gratifications which are looked 'nr at this
period, is the indulgence of the appetite I' .ood. Here
comes in a rigid law of the Creator. It cannot be broken
without consequent suffering, nor repeatedly broken
without impairing, and perhaps aestroying, the material
frame which has been descr.bed as so fearfully and
wonderfully made. To require of that delicate machi-
nery, on which the action of life depends, that which
it is not qualified to do, and which it cannot do— to
force it to do that which ia offensive to it — and to
make this requisition habitually — is a sin against
natural law. Its punishments are well known. The
restless sleep, the heavy bead, the many sensations of
uneasiness, the positive pain, the disgusting remedies,
are the punishments which follow. They are not all.
Nature loses its charms, companions their interest,
duties become irkuome, the mind 'lates its labour, pe-
nalties are incurred, parents ov teachers arc regarded
with displeasure. These are the fruits of momentary
and improper gratification of the appetites. On the
other hand, there is a law of nature that food shall be
grateful. It is required to supply the daily waste —
to continue life. If there were not a craving want,
we should take food as a mere nece!>8ary duty. It is
kindly made to be a pleasure, and, like every other
pleasure, it is to be used, and not abused. Thus, by
Ignorant or wilful pursuit of pleasure, we violate a
law which brings with its just punishment not only
the loss of the like pleasure for a time to come, but
also pain and suffering from indispensable remedies.
When children are sick, they are subjects of tender-
ness and pity ; but in most instances they rather
deserve to be punished, for they have broken a law
wilfully, since they have disregarded their own expe-
rience. As to kinds or qualily of fond, nature is not
unreasonably nice about this : that which it more fre-
quently complains of is i^uatUih/,

CLEANLINESS.

Tills is not a mere matter of decency. It is one of
the positive commands arising from the constituted
order of things. Be it remembered th -.t everything
that lives, vegetable or animal, ia wasting while life con-
tinues ; and that all which is sent forth through the
millions of openings by ti:e skin, has run its round,
and is lifeless; and that more than half of all the food
taken comes forth in this manner, (jiee Prfskrvation
OP Health, Vol. 1.) If perspiration, sensible and in-
■ensible, be permitted to rest on the skin, and stop the
way of that which is coming, nature is offended, and
will show that she is so. Such neglect is one of the
causes of disease. This fact was probably well known
to Eastern nations, since it was part of their religious
duty tn .>anse the skin. These nations were ignorant
of the modem comfort of wearing a garment next the
■kin which can be frequently changed. The absence
of this comfort was one of the causes of those dreadful
diseases of which we read, and which are now unknown
Among Christian nations. There are classes of labourers
luid mechanics whos« health would be preserTe<l, and
their lives prolonged, if they knew how much depended

on periodical cleansing. It may be said that there ia
a connection between cleanliness and moral feeling.
Perhaps it may be going too far to say that those who
habitually disregard cleanliness, and prefer to be dirty,
have no moral perception ; but it may be truly said that
those who are morally sensitive are the more so from
respecting this virtue. There is a close affinity be-
tween moral depravity and physical degnuiation. The
vicious poor are always shockingly filthy: the depraved
rich are visited by worse penalties: they may have
clean garments ; but what can wash away the impuri>
ties which vice has made part of themselves t It is not
for one's self only that tne virtue of cleanliness com-
mends itself. Every one comes within the observation
of others. However uncleanly one may be himself, he
is not the less offended at the like neglect in those whom
he observes. Now it is every one's duty to himself to
recommend himself to others, so far as he innocently
and reasonably can, and to obtain their respect. Clean
and costly garments may fall very short of doing this
if it be seen that they are a covenng for the neglect of
this important law. If there be a lovely object to the
human eye, it is a clean, clear-faced, healthy, innocent,
neatly-clad, happy child. There are few children who
may not, if they will, be neatly dressed, for this does
not depend on that of which the dress is made. There
are fewer who may not have a clear skin, and healthy
look, if they are properly fed, and sleep in pure air.
There are none who may not have a clean skin ; for we
speak to those who are old enough to judge for them,
selves. And let it be added, for their inducement, that
in obeying the command to be clean they are perform-
ing a moral duty; in 'neglecting it, they are inflicting an
evil on themselves in two ways — first, in diminishing
their own health and comfort ; and secondly, in losing
the esteem of others,

air.
Among the generally unknown causes of loss of health,
is the respiration of impure air. The congregation of
many persons in one apartment, especially when arti-
fiiiial light in great quantity is permitted, is a cause
of more inuladies than is commonly supposed. Threti
causes, in such case, combine to destroy the fitness of
the air for respiration — the animal heat of the assembly,
the lig'ats, and the breathing of the same ai;' again and
again. There must be such assemblies. The remedy
is proper ventilation. The smoke of lamps has fre-
quently occasioned death. No lamp is properly trimmed
if it emit anything more than a pure oright flame. It
is a common practice to keep sleeping apartments shut
up. If there be several persons in a small room which
has been shut up for several hours, it would be shock-
ing to know hiiw often they must breathe again and
ajfain the same air, a'-.U hov.' unfit it is to be oreathed
after it has once visited the lungs. Add to this the
impurity of tlio air, which is continually in contact with
the furniture prenarKd and constantly used for sleep-
ing, in an unaired apartment. It is not mere nicety, or
fastidious delicacy, which requires that the pure air
should be admitted where the human lungs are in ac-
tion, but it is a law as old as the creation of man, and
cannot be disregarded. A skilful observer might select
among many, from the appearance of the countenance,
those who have just left an apartment in which they
have been respiring for hours a spoiled atmosphere.
No doubt that this cause, long continued, so affects the
whole mass of blood as to bring on many diseases. If
pure air be peculiarly necessary to any class of persons,
it is so to children. We believo a more useful sugges-
ti' n could not be made on the subject of health to the
v.'hole community, than to invite their, to respect this
law of nature — that there cannot be perfect health
where the air is impure, and that this applies especially
to apartments appropriated to sleep. Visiting friends
are oileii put into sleeping apartments which have not
been opened for days and weeks; this is far enough
from kind treatment, however innocently it may he
done, (For further information, see No, 45.)

THE PRIVATE DUTIES OF LIFE.

that tbere ia
koral feeling,
lat thoM who
» to be dirty,
Tuly Mud that
more so from
e affinity be-
Mlation. The

the depraved
ley may hare
ly the impuri.
res 1 It is not
sanlinesB com-
he obserration
be himself, he
in those whom
J to himself to

he innocently
respect. Clean
t of doing this
r the neglect of
ly object to the
ilthy, innocent,
w children who
d, for this does
s made. There
in, and healthy
lep in pure air.
lan skin ; for we
judge for thera-
iducement, that
ley are porform-
are inflicting an
,, in diminishing
jondly, in losing

1 of loss of health,
congregation of
cially when arti-
itted, is a cause
upposed. Threu
oy the fitness of
. of the assembly,
me air again and
es. The remedy
f lamps has fre-
)roperly trimmed
bright flame. It
apartments shut
mall room which
; would be shock-
'oathe again and
is to be ureathed
Add to this the
ly in contact witli
y used for sleep-
)t mere nicety, or
hat the pure air
lungs are in ac-
tion of man, and
iryer might select
the countenance,
mt in which they
iled atmosphere,
led, so afi"ects the
any diseases, If
jT class of persons,
ire useful sugges-
of health to the
.IT. to respect this
je perfect health
applies especially
Visiting friends
I which nave not
lis is far enough
lently it may oe
lo. 45.)

nuE.

Every penon connects himself, in hii usual thoughts
of himself, with all the lapse of time in which he nan
remember, and with all the lapse of time through which
he expects to lire. This he calls his life. He does not
lire in time that is paat, nor in time that is to come.
He actually lives only in the present moment. Yet he
feels that he lives in the past, and will live in the time
to come, because the past, the present, and the future
are so connected that he cannot separate them. It is
thus a law from which no one can free himself, that he
shall sutFer in the passing moment for the wrongs done
in time gone by, and for the evils of which he dreads
the approach. As this is certainly so, how little does
he regard the operation of inflexible law, who provides
for himself a load of self-reproach, for any gratification
which he can procure by error or by crime I

Let us lay out of the case those errors and crimes
which have been alluded to, and consider negligences
and follies. Man was meant for action, and his actions
were intended to enable him to secure good to himself.
Good to himself depends on the performance of his
duties to himself. Duty to himself requires that he
should improve his faculties, and should avail himself
of all the opportunities given to him for that purpose.
The hours, then, which are permitted to slide by with-
out any improvement, aro lost. In so losing them, he
breaks the law of the Creator. Apply this to the voca-
tions in which one is to cultivate his mind in any busi-
ness, mechanical, scientific, or learned. When one sees
himself surpassed by others, and left far in the rear;
when he is called on to measure himself against another;
and when he sees thct coinparisons are made between
him and others, greatly to his disadvantage — he may
feel, and most men do feel, that they are thus depreci-
ated because the precious time which was allotted to
improvement has been passed in trifling amusements
or in idle pursuits. To some minds, the sufiTering from
such causes is extremely acute. They have no one to
blame but themselves. The bitter remembrance which
they hare of the past, as connected with the present
and the future, is the punishment for breaking a
positive law. They may console themselves perhaps
with the firm resolution that they will repair the wrong
done in the past time by diligence in the time to come;
but they find that time brings with it its own demands.
They are fortunate, indeed, if they can do in one space
that which belongs to it, and that also which belonged
to another and in another season of life.

One cannot innocently say his time is his own, and
that he may dispose of it as he pleases. His time is
his life. It is given to him in trust. Like other trus-
tees, he will be held to an iiccour't, in which there is
no possibility of concealment, ana where nothing will
depend on proof. It may be supposed that it will be
said to him, There was confided to your use a term of
time; you knew, or could know, the laws prescribed to
you In performing your trust: are you come from that
trust to render an account of it, l '.rthened with reproach
from your own conscience, and with marks of guilt
which you cannot iiidet or, arc you come without any
advaiicement in the knowledge of your duties, and
with no other account than tl ,»» your days rolled by in
childish pursuits or idle amusement, no witer when you
were severed from the world than when you left the
cradle of infancy ? or, are you come with the exalted
acquirements which you might have, and with that
innocence and purity which you would have, if you had
read the laws of the created world, and those which
have been revealed and placed before your eyes? Where
have you read in these laws, that no duties to yourself,
and to your associates, nor to the Lawgiver, were en-
joined upon youl Have you not been told by every breath
you drew, by every movement of your frp.iuc, by every
thought of your miud, by every just pleasure that you
have had, by every pang that you have sufiered, and
by all that you have been made capable of perceiving
and learning, that there were laws prescribed to you,

and that an account of your gtewardihip would be ex»
acted from you by a Ju(^e who cannot be deceived t

SELF-LOVK.

It ii an invariable law of nature that every human
being shall do those acts which he thinks will secure
good to him, and that he shall avoid those acts which
will occasion evil to him. Why, then, should not every
one do any and every act in his power by which hit .
own will may be gratified, and avoid doing any and
every act which is disagreeable to him t The only
answer that can be given is, that man is a free agent^
intrusted with the power; and charged with the duty,
of ascertaining for himself what is good and what it
evil; and that this power and duty extend to those with
whom he dwells in society, and also to his Creator.

Children always conform to the natural impulse of
self-love, until they learn from the discipline which is
applied to them, that they cannot have their own will
without subjecting themselves to a suffering, the dread
of which controls the natural impulse. They learn,
after a time, that the greater good lies in giving up what
they will to do, and doing what is required of them,
rather than to meet the certain consequences. We think
that the whole science of morals will be found in the
principles contained in the truth above stated.

Self-love is just as strong throughout life as it is in
childhood. It is that quality of our nature to which
all excellence may be referred ; but it is aUi. that to
which all unworthiness may be referred. As the dread
of punishment, or an unwillingness to displease those
whose kindness a child desires, will restraiu him, or put
him into action ; so, in more advanced life, the dread
of sufiTering a certain or prouable evil, and tiie certainty
of losing the good-will of others, will restrain or impel
to act. With those whose minds have been properly
disciplined, and who have learned to comprehend their
relation to the Creator, there is a far higcier motive,
which is founded in a submission to the Creator's laws.
As one goes on in life, he may or may not acquire more
and more clear and just perceptions of what will be the
greatest good to himself, and how he can obtain it. It
is a self-evident proposition that if a person could cer-
tainly know what it would be best for him to do, or not
to do, in relation to all things and persons, and under
all circumstances, and if he should conform to this
knowledge, he would best obey the impulse of self-
love, and most exactly conform to the laws prescribed
for his permanent wellbeing.

It cannot be too often impressed upon the youthful
mind that life is to he iaken as a whole: for if this
extended view be not taken, it must frequently happen
that it will seem right in certain circumstances, and
when the view is limited to these circumstances, that
certain acts may be done or avoided as the greatest
good. Yet, if the consequencis could be foreseen, they
would disclose that this seeming good would turn out
to be a positive evil. It often seems good to the young
to avoid the performance of labours which are assigned
to them, and to spend in amusement the time which
should be devoted to fit them for duties which will be
incident to their future condition. This misapprehen-
sion of good is to be lamented; but with some this is
not all. Their own self-love prompts them to engage
in a course of folly, so that not only do they fail to
obtain that which is real good, but they find, under the
mask of pleasure, that which proves to them to be in
the long-run the most grievous sufiering.

The same truth runs, in an endless variety of forms,
into manhood, and through all the stages of life. We
are impelled by self-love not only to provide for the
craving wants of our nature, but to seek pleasure,
riches, power, distinction, and luxuries. These pro-
pensities are given for wise and beneficent purposes.
It is the misapplication of them, as seen in the world,
which constitutes human misery. He is called brave
and honourable who defends himself, even at the risk
of !ife, against those who would do to him that injustice
and wrong which would make the gift of life of no

4dl

CHAUBEBS^ lKVOBHATI(»r FOB THB FEOFLS.

Tftlue. But the brave, who inrade the ri|!;hti of otheri,
and subject them, by Tiolence, to lofi»«g and to suffer-
ings, without cause, misapply this principle of action.
To get riches by honest industry, or the reasonable
•txercise of one's talents, is a commendable use of self-
love. To get riches by unfair and dishonest means,
to hoard them up, and to brood over them in secret, is
a pitiful misuse of this commiindable impulse. I'o have
power over one's fellow-men, and to use it faithiUlly,
and for their benefit, is a relation which one may
honestly and commendably desire, as a reasonable ex-
ercise of self-love. To seek such |>ower by deceitful
representations, and to obtain it by violence and fraud,
and to use it for purposes of supposed self-benefit, and
to the injury and oppression of others, is another form
of self-love. But there are few, if any cases, in the
history of mankind, in which self-love has appeared in
the latter form, without eventually overwhelming the
agent with disappointment and sorrow. It is true that
for a time such a one raay seem to flourish in his
schemes, and command the applauses of those who look
up to him in his apparently fortunate elevation; but,
in the very nature of things, if his heart could be
Munde<l, there is no one whom he looks down upon
who is not more at ease than himself. His ^ay of
humiliation may be at hand, in the course of events
which he cannot control ; and if not, he learns, when
it is too late to correct his error, that he has misapplied
the impulse of self-love. This misapplication is to be
seen in many cases of daily occurrence, and in things
of little, as well as in those of comparatively great,
importance. The principle is everywhere the same.

\Ve shall be answered perhaps that all this is inci-
dent to human nature. There is no help, it is said, for
these evils. Every boy who has learned Latin repeats
the maxim, Humanum est errare (It is human to err).
A more mischievous maxim was never invented. If
men understood, as most certainly they may do, that
they need not err, and that it is best for them they
should not, thev would rather adopt as a maxim that
none but the wilfully ignorant, and the wilfully foolish,
err. Such a state of things is yet afar off. It may
seem to be foolish, indeed, to assert that any society
should ever come to be so well informed as to make a
proper use of self-love. Let us not despair. We raay
improve very slowly ; yet, if every one does even the
little that he can, in showing, by precept and example,
what things a rational and accountable being i hould
desire, and what he should avoid and reject, certainly
the time raay come when self-love will never be so mis-
applied as to be necessarily followed by suffering, by
penitence, and sorrow.

Will it be denied that there is a certain best course
of action for every human being in every possible con-
dition in which he may find himself t Or, that no small
proportion of human suffering arises from not having
discerned that it was best, in past circumstances, to
have acted differently, or not to have acted at all < Or,
that whether one did or did not act, in the supposed
case, that his motive was to secure to himself the
greatest good of which that case was supposed to allow ?
If these things cannot he denied, then the great end of
life is so to regulate self-love as that it may secure the
greatest good. Let us suppose that every person in
society knew what it would be best for him to do or not
to do, so that his physical, intellectual, a'td moral con-
dition should be as good as he could make it. His self-
love would never be directed to any en J which would
impair his bodily powers or keei> his min 1 in ignorance,
or misinformed, or make him a subject of reproach or
contempt in his own view, or in that ri others. This,
it will be said, is an impossible sti'.e of things. So it
was said that it would be impo8«'<)la to rout out the use
of anient spiritt. This great ihan^e is not wholly ac-
complished; but does any one di)ubt that great advance
has Deen made towards its entire abolition I Let ui go
on, then, in the work of improvement. Let every one
try to show the proper uses of self-love, 'i'hc day may
come when every one will admit that all the sufieringsi

which may visit tte human family are of their own
making, those only wxcepted which arise from the gene-
ral laws of the Cnacor. Even as to those, they may
be greatly mitigated by intelligent moral agency; and
when they do come, they can and will be endured with
piety and resignation, if the suPerer can console him-
self with the certainty that he has done no wrong
thing, nor neglected any proper one, to which the cause
of his sufferings may be referred,

lABOUB.

It is commonly considered that labour is the ourae
declared to mankind, as a consequence of the transgres-
sion of the first man. It is foreign to our purpose to
enter into any die«ussion as to the true meaning of this
historical or allegorical account ; the Christian revela-
tion may not be dependent on a literal understanding of
it. However this may be regarded under the influence
of further reasonable research, we must take man as
he is; and so considering him, labour is not an evil, but
a pltaswe. Is it a curse to man, as he now is, to bo
enabled by labour to comprehend the existence of the
Deity, and the beauty and utility of His works t to adorn
the earth, and bring its productive powers into action I
to apply the material substances of the earth to reason-
able use, convenience, and ornament ! to expand and
improve the human mind 1 to cultivate and strengthen
the moral power 1 to secure and enjoy the comforts of a
well-regulated society 1 Certainly these are the effects
of labour; and labour so applied constitutes man's
highest object and happiness.

There are two kinds of labour: — 1. Mere bodily
labour; 2. Labour of the mind. These two are some-
times necessarily combined. The mind and the body
demand some sort of employment. No one whose mind
is free from natural defect can prevent its action. It
will think of something, good or evil, profitable or foolish.
Every one who attends to the operations of his own
mind, must be convinced that this is so. The body and
limbs cannot be kept in any one position for any con-
siderable space of time, unless they have been in action
and demand repose. If it were painful to us to direct
the actlm of the mind to useful labour, and if it were
distressing or inconvenient to us to exercise our mus-
cl'38 for purposes which we believe to be proper, then it
might be that labour is a curse ; but many, nay all,
who require of the mind to perform its duties to any
useful purpose, and especially those who have disui-
plined the mind to an accustomed service, find that the
absence of employment is an affliction. We cannot see
how this should be otherwise, if we rightly coiupreheii>'
man's relation to the mechanism of the universe, ci'
which he constitutes an essential portion.

As to bodily action, if is seen that children in their
sports go through a series of exertions, often exceed-
ingly violent too, from more pleasure. Men frequentiv
exercise the body much more severely in matters <it
amusement than they have any occasion to do in neces-
sary labour. This action seems to be a dictate of nature-.
In many cases of indisposition, bodily motion is the
prescribed remedy, and is commonly a successful oiio.
There are sound reasons why this should be so. Then:
is a universal action of the material system to which
man belongs, and a continual waste and demand for
supply. Excepting only in the involuntary movements
in man's structure, which arc not confided to his care,
he is required to aid nature in her operations. If be
would put himself in the best condition to receive and
derive pleasure from his daily food, he must keep him-
self in action. Those who have the least pleanure in
using what was given to be used as the means of ]>lea-
sure to the senses, are those who keep the body inactivr.
This is true of those who labour with the mind only;
more strikingly true of those whom afflupnco excuses
froiu labour of budy and mind. They seek happiness
in indolence and in lixury: they find it not, l)ecauEc
they violate a l.iw of nature. No pniduct of the vinu-
yard, the Jieid, or the sea, however aided by inventive
art, will furnidh a welcome rep'Mt to one who sits in list-

!rHE PRIVATE DUTIES OF LIFU.

: their own
na the gene-
B, they may
igency; and
iidured with
onBole hini-
e no wrong
ch the cause

is the ourse
he transgres-
r purpose to
laning of this
>stian revela-
lerstanding of
the influence
take roan as
it an evil, but
now is, to be
[gtence of the
irks \ to adorn
« into action ?
trth to reaaon-
9 expand and
tnd strengthen
J coraforta of a
are the effects
Btitutes man's

I. Mere bodily
two are gorae-
and the body
mo whose mind
1 its action. It
itable or foolish,
ons of his own
The body and
on for any coii-
} been in action
I to us to direct
■, and if it were
ercise our nius-
■ iiroper, then it
many, nay all,
I duties to any
rho have disifi-
;c, find that the
We cannot see
itly compreheii.l
,lie universe, oi
In.

ihildren in their
B, often exceed-
Men frequenll'
y in matters <it
[i to do in ncces-
ictate of nature.
W motion is the
successful Olio.
lid be SO. Then:
[system to whiiii
kiul demand for
ttary movementn
ided to his cure,
lerations. If 1"p
m to receive ami
I must keep him-
ea»t pleanure iu
L means of pleii-
[he body inactivp.
1 the mind only,
iflliipnco excuses
W Beek happinesi
[l it not, l)ecftU6c
duct of the vine-
led by inventive
e who sits in list-

Ims idlanen, on a doway cushion, from breakfast-time
till dinner. The day-labourer who sits down to his ooarse
meal, has a pleasure to which the luxurious idler is a
stranger. The one receives a rational benefit from the
kind and just bounty of nature; the other seeks it where
nature has decreed that it shall not be found.

The labour of muscular action is not only in itself a
pleasure, but it is the means prescribed to us for the
acquirement of subsistence; for the gradual improve-
ment of society; for applying natural and artificial
products to our comforts, to our convenience, and to
reasonable luxuries. Nor only so : this is the ground-
work of all the beautiful and imitative arts; of the dis-
covery and application of the chemical power of matter;
of the wonderful contrivances by which man gecurtly
moves on the face of the ocean ; by which he cultivates
his acquaintance with the stars, and raises his thoughts
to the Author of all being. Let us not, then, regard
labour as a curse, but a blessing, and rank it among the
many causes for thankfulness. It is obvious that mus-
cular action would have been given to us in vain, if it
were not directed by intelligence. There must, then,
be labour of the mind. This is nowhere said to be a
curse. If there be anything for which we should be
specially thankful, certainly it ia that wo are blessed
with the power of mental exertion. This labour is in
itself an inexhaustible source of happiness; and in its
fruits has made, out of savage man, a rational and im-
proving social being. The most restless and comfortless
of all creatures is he who has no occupation for his
mind. If one would invent the most miserable condi-
tion for a human being, other than mere physical suf-
fering of the most excruciating kind that can be with-
out extinguishing life, it would be to deprive him of all
employment of body and of mind.

Can there be a doubt that, in man's present .condi-
tion, the ability to labour is his exalted privilege ! And
is he not accountable for this privilege I Is not reason
given to direct him in the use of it 1 It is well known
to those who have compared the condition of mankind
in different ages, how much the labour of body and
mind have been able to accomplish. Even within the
last half century, the most surprising changes for the
better have taken place, from the right use of this pro-
ductive power. On this depends the civilised condition
of the human family. From the joint labours of all who
wish well to their fellow-men, there will be obtained,
eventually, the knowledge of the best manner of using
the products of the earth, the best mode of instructing
and directing men in their social relations, the just
homage due to the Creator, and the true purpose for
which human life has been given.

To some descriptions of persons labour is irksome.
They are obliged, in their vocations, to use certain
muscles, and those only. They repeat the same act
throughout the day. Their labour becomes tedious,
bceaut.e it requires little or no action of the mind. To
this numerous class we venture to offer a relief which
is within the easy reach of niuny of them. It is well
known ihat the nature of habit is such, that the hands
wil' do what they have been accustomed to do, withou'
any obvious attention, and the mind is left to do whr.t
it will. The mind might be employed while the hands
are busy, in pursuuig some connected train of thought.
Muscular action, so far I'roiii being an interruption to
the action of the mind, may be made to assist it. Per-
•ons who think intently are often seen to have some
habiiual movement ; iiixl we ha\ f heard several persons
acknowledge that their best idoiw had come to them
when tuoy were engaged in some simpifi occasional duty,
such »i the folding of paper, or the cutting of the leaves
of a book. The stir of bodv seems to produce a cor-
responding stir of iuind. The relief which we suggest
is, that sedentary labourers should provide themselves
with subjects for reflection, and exact of tlieir minds to
attend to theao subjects. By such sii.yle means the
niemor> may be ntrengthened, the stock of knowl«?dgf
may bo greatly increased, and the mind surprisingly
invigorated. One might begin this exercise by attempt-

ing to remember, with the utmost pr6ciai6ii, ertrj a6t
done during the preceding day, and so go back from
day to day. Better still would it be, if the purpose were
to see wherein one had not done as well as he might,
and as he may wish he had done. This exercise may
be applied also to the contemplation of subjects sug-
gested by reading; and this contemplation will raise
questions which will lead to the examination of books.
There may be hundreds of poets, philosophers, and
moralists at the work-benches in this country who have
no thought of themselves that they are such. It is in
the power of any person who can read and understand
the English language, to strengthen his memory, give
himself an interesting employment, and furnish himself
with a rich fund of the truest philosophy, in this manner.
He may commit to memory six lines each successive
day of Pope's ' Essay on Man,' and on each day repeat
all ho had learned on preceding days. On the 218th
day he would be able to repeat the whole essay. This
might be done without losing one moment of time,
and without making the sligLicst error in one's work.
When accomplished, it would be an intellectual trea-
sure for which any man might be thankful, and of
which he might be justly proud. The first efforts may
be discouraging, but perseverance will ultimately insure
success. Every one who is accustomed to thinking can
attest that most new subjects are at first confused and
unde^'-ned ; but that they gradually disclose themselves,
and fall into shape and order, just as material sub-
stances used on the work-bench and the anvil take that
form, smoothness, and polish, by successive operationb,
which the workman requires.

This quality of our nature has engaged the attention
of many philosophic minds. It has been considered an
ultimate fact, as it is called; that is, one of those qua-
lities which, like respiration, digestion, and many others,
are found to exist; and beyond which fact no investi-
gation can be made. Its laws, rather than its nature,
have been the subject of remark. It may be that .babit
is to be referred to the law of action, which appears to
pervade all material and intellectual being. Life is
divided into parts: in one we are awake, and active;
in the other, wrapped iu sleep, and quiet. Each suc-
cessive day is a sort of new existence, in which we are
to repeat many of the acts of the preceding day. We
repeat these acts because nature demands the repeti-
tion of them. Also, almost every one is engaged in some
vocation, on which he relies to supply his wants and
gratify his wishes; and most persons have in view cer-
tain pleasures, which arc innocent or otherwise. It ap-
pears to us that habit arises from this demand for action,
and from the manner in which this demand is supplied.
Action relates to ourselves, to other persons, and to
things around us which minister to our wants ; sup-
plying its demands associates us with these persons and
things. Tlie want, whatever it may be, arises, and forth-
with all things connected with satisfying it force them-
selves into notice, and these become a jiart of our very
existence. It ia a well-known fact, for example, that
the appetite for food will associate itself with a parti-
cular hour of the day, and with persons, places, and ob-
jects of gratification; so that one becomes hungry rather
according to the hour than the natural want.

It may perhaps be an ultimate fact, beyond whi<;h we
cannot go, that those acts are most easily and well done
which are oftenest done. One who uses a flail, an axe,
a scythe, j. sword, or a pen, can use either the better
the ofteiier it is used, until he arrives at a point ot
excellence at which his power of improvement stops.
This n\ay perhaps be accounted for by supposing that
the first effort which the mind makes to direct muscular
action is the most difficult one. After repeated efforts,
the mind seems to understand better and better liow to
lirtct, and the muscles how to obey, till at length a very
slight effort of tho mind seems to be all that is required,
ami even an effort so inconsiderabk and rapid as not to
bo the subicfH of notice, Un this truth seems to depend

CHAHBSBffS INFOBHATIOV VOB THB FEOPLSL

the ftttoniahing faoilUr of aoiion to which (among mmj
other ii\Btaiicei) jusglen and muticians attain. This
is called fuUiit, whioir word ii derired from a Latin word
which signifiea custom or use. There are customs or
habits of the mind as well as of the muscles. Persons
who accustom themselves to extemporaneous speaking,
acquire a surprising ease and readiness in the compli-
cated action of conceiving, uttering, and expressing, by
sounds, b;^ looks, and gestures, whatsoever they would
imprPM upon an audience. The mind has its own
habits a'.so, in the quiet of contemplation, and in exer-
cising its various powers. It has its own associations,
too, with external objects, of which many curious in-
itanoes are stated in philosophical works.

The moral deduction which we make from these
general principles is this — that there is a continual
craving to do some act, to obtain some object; or a con-
tinually-recurring necessity to do some act, to prevent
an evil or inconvenience. The frequency of this call
upon us to do something, whsthor it be for eventual
good ur evil, leads to the pructitv.', custom, or habit of
doing; and in some cases the impulse to act becomes
so powerful, that reason, >nelf-rei)pect, the laws of society,
and even those of the Lawgiver of the universe (if these
arp heeded), present no sufBcicnt barrier to the impulse.
'^t .4 to this all-important truth in the nature of man
thai 'e earnestly invite the attention of the young.
The capacity to create habits io the consequence of the
power given to us to promote our own welfare, indivi-
dually, socially, and as accountable beings. This capa-
city was designed to fasten us down to that course of
action which will accomplish these ends of our existence.
Like everything else with which we are intrusted, it
may be rightly and profitably used, or may be misused,
and perverted to our certain ruin. Habit is the kindest
friend or the cruellest foe to human weln. re. When it
assuii.es the latter character, it approaches us in the
most deceitful and seductive forms. It conies wearing
attractive smiles — it delights — it fascinates — it substi-
tutes its own irresistible will for our own — it triumph-
antly points to the gulf to which it onward bears us.
The Hy caught in the spider's web is a faint illustration
of the power &f habit. He knows from the first moii:«nt
his destiny. The gambler, the drunkard, and the feloi\,
when and how do they learn that they have been caught
Li the web of habit I

INTKMPERANCE.

Tiiis word has attained a meaning more limited than
its proper one. It is ap))lied commonly to persons who
take habitually .irdent spirits; but it is equally appli-
cable to all .transj^ressions of the law of moderation.
All acts which may be lawfully done for one's own good,
when carried to o.\oess, are acts of intemperance; and
all such wt,» are sooner or later followed by some sort
of Buffering, according to their nature and degree.
Excessive labour of body or mind is as nmch an act of
intemperance as to make one's self dull and stupid by
taking fooii, oi irrational ar.d giddy by taking spirits,
ilut there I- < wid<; ilitfei-uiice in the degree of immo-
rality in the kinds of excess, Au intemperpnce in
study, which brings untimely death in some instances,
is not condtnin^d us an immoral transgression (though
it certainly is such), for the motive which leads to this
intemperance is regarded as an honourable ore. The
loss of health and oharacter, from abusing the privilege
of taking nourishment, is universally condemned, be-
cause the motive, and the acts done in obedience to its
inipi'lse, are irrational and disgraceful.

There are two kinds of intemperance against which
tha young should bo warned : tho one is drinking, not
for nourishment, but for pleasure; the other is, using
tobawo. It has bee.i alreiwly deuionitratcd ihist Mature
requires a certain (jiiantity of proper food to maintain
ah'i.Hlth) and happy ondition of body and niind; also,
that exiX'M of any kind will be followed by sulFering.
This ii jan as certain as that a full vessel must throw
oir just as much ai is added to itd contents. It it very
&atur>il thai, young poraui's should assemble for the

wke of Moiety; being Miembled, they muit hftTe lomd
employment tor the musclee of the body and the craving
jf the mind. We have ihown that such propensities
spring from natural constitation, and that they must
be satisfied. There must be a community of purpose
in the meeting. That may be found in any muscular
action in whidi all can join, and which has some defi-
nite object, as athletic garnet; or it may be found in
some int iUeotual employment which is common to all
present. Unhappily, the most frequent bond in such
meetings is to drink, for in this all can join. Connected
by this common attraction, the mind is called into
action ; but for what purposes i Those who frequent
places of public entertainment can best aniwei this
question. Some who are sent to pubL'i; seminaries cau
also answer it; and some can answer it who know that
they are maintained there by pinching economy at home.
Some others could r^swer it, who never had a serious
thought why such places were established, nor for what
uses they were intended.

We refer again to the demonstration heretofon
made, that the law of nature, which cannot be broken
with impunity, inexorably admits so much, and no
more. Let us, then, look in upon a gay company of
young persons around a table, and half concealed by
toba< CO smoke. What sort of air are they breathing ?
what sort of substances are they casting into their
physical system, already bursting with excess) what
sort of thoughts have they in their minds 1 and what
sort of words are usually flowing from their lips 1 We
could, but will not, answer these questions for them.
Let us pass by this revel, and go to the next morning.
We might then propound some other questions. Are
not their heads heavy, hot, and throbbing 1 Are not
their eyes thick and burning \ Are not their tongues
white and parched \ Do not the nerves tremble ? Is
not the mind muddy and confused ) In what condition
are they to perform duties to themselves, to those they
serve, to instructors, to affectionate parents) Is not
this dear-boiwht pleasure f How long can nature bear
to be pleased in this manner? But the matter does
not stop here. The same scene is repeated again and
again. Soon fiabit asserts its awful dominion; and tiien
the scene must be repeated. The craving is insatiable,
and cannot be resisted. From social drinking, the step
is an easy one to solitary drinking. There is no resting-
place for u-tbit; everything in this system of being must
keep on, or be at an end.

It is believed that the sort of criminal excesses to
which we allude are not from the promptings of nature.
Wo venture to assert that they are entirely artificial
in the beginning. It seems irrational that any one
should like to take more of anything than nature re-
quires; and more so, that one should naturally desire
to take burning liquids to tho degree of intoxication, or
perhaps to take them at all. It is believed there is no
such natural propensity; but that such liquids, when
first taken, aiibrd less pleasure than pure water. The
taste f(,r these articles is created by association, by
imitation, by fellonship; and, above all, because there
is a kind of tradition that it is manly and social to
drink. Songs in praise of the juice of the grape, and
of meaner liquors, have some otfect in the delusion of
drinking. There is a fascination in combined poetry
and melody. Such combinations arc well known to
have the most powerful influence in national associa-
tions. They inspire a feeling wiiich bears men on to
victory or to death. The songs of liocchus do the
same. They conquer the strength of those who sing,
and of those who listen to them, and sometimes lay
thoir admirers not in a bed of honour, but of contempt.

If one could get the ear of such a misguided youtli,
ho would not do much by reasoning with him. He
might do something by getting him to reason for him-
self. It would be necessary to bring to his view some
fuctf from which lie could reason. Ho must be mad:!
to know what a wonderful contrivance tho digestive
pc ver is, and by whom it was contrived. That iU
puqiose is to take tho inauimatu substances which

THE PRIVATE DtJTIES OF LIFIL

Bfttnrd ptotidM for U| and conTeit them into livina
■entitire bein^j, and poiaibly into thinking P' ^er and
immortal spirit. He muat be reminded iiow eaaily
every human contrivance may be deranged, and the
more lo, and irreparably, in proportion to the minute-
non and delicacy of conBtiuction. But (tone might
fail to make a thoughtless boy comprehend the nature
of the principle of life which rtoldes in his own bosom,
because he cannot see it, some illustration must be
made. Unhappily there is none which can be effective
to this end. The nnarest which occurs to us is this.
Let us suppose, then, one knows the use and the value
of the human eye in its physical, intellectual, and
moral relations; that he knows he must take care of it,
and fi-equently bathe it in cold water, as well to cleanse
it as to refresh and brace it, so that it may still be an
eye to him, when decline and old age shall come. Let
us further suppose that, instead of so usin|r and so pre-
serving this delicate organ, he should, when he first
rises in the morning, let fall into it a drop of burning
spirit, and at eleven o'clock another, and so on, at the
proper hours, until he sleeps again — how long would
the power of vision remain to hirii, and how soon will
this organ of delight become a source of insuflferable
paini It must be much the same with the digestive
organs as to the abuse of them.

If one could in some such way bring home to the
perception of an erring youth th" grievous wrong which
he is inflicting on himself, he might be prepared to
reason on his own case, and might be asked some juch
questions as these: — Is it of any consequence to you to
be free from suffering and sorrow 1 As you must inevi-
tably keep company with yourself as long as you live,
is it of consequence to you to make of yourself a plea-
sant and agreeable companion, and not one who will be
continually complaining and upbraiding ? Is health of
any value to youl Can you use your limbs, and the
faculties of your mind, as you would like to do, without
it 1 Can you have health, if your habit is to throw into
that delicate part of your system whoreon the action of
life depends, substances which excite it to an unnatural
■"xertion, or deprive it of all power of exertion ! Does
not every part of your system sympathise with the
injustice which you do to your digestive organs \ ^\ ill
not your brain, and consequently your mind, euffcT by
this violence 1 Do you expect to attain luiddle age and
old age 1 Will not the seeds you are now sowing come
up in that spacp of time? Will they come up in the form
of enfeebled muscles, cliroi.ic aches, self- reproaching
thoughts, the loss of tht 'apacity to enjoy the bounties
and beauties of creation ! Will f hey grow up to over-
ohadow your moral sense, and shut out the delights of
intellectual power 1 Was life given to you for the few
years in which you can sing, drink, and ' enjoy your-
self,' or that you may enjoy life in every stago of it, as
a rational being, and by rendering your homage to
nature in obeying her laws, and your gratitude to Iliui
who ordaiiied these laws for your happiness! Do you
not look forward yourself to be at some time a parent i
Have your own parents ever so con lucted themselves
towards you that, you have a right to punish and afHict
them! Are you willing that your parents should see
you and know you as you know yourself! If you
should be a parent, are you willing that your children
should be told with whom, and in what manner, you
' enjoy yourseif !' Would you tell them how yon spent,
your youtnful days and nights, and recommend to them
to take y jurself as an example 1

TRUTH ANn FALSEHOOD.

Theietwo subjects relate to two parties:— /m<, The
individual who speaks truth or falsehood; secondly.
The individual to whom it is spoken. We propose to
consider this matter only in relation to the former
party, and as to him in two views : — 1. Whether there
be my, and what law, which requires that the truth
fhouli! be spoken ; and, 2. What good or evil one may
do m himself by lying.

I. One nm>m why truth ihould bo spoken is, that

the knowledge which any one penon can hare from
the use of hit own senses, in many things which V„
Tioit materially concerns him to know, is very limited.
H must therefore often depend for his knowledge on
what oiliers say to him; and when the thing spoken of
is ticluiively known to the party speaking, the other
must rely entirely on what he says. If, therefore, it
be considered how great a part of the most serious con-
cerns in life proceed on declarations made by one per-
son to another, we may readily conceive, that if these
could not be relied on, the affairs of mankind wou d
be greatly embarrassed, and confidence in each other
wo lid be destroyed. As this matter of speaking the
truth is one which concerns all persons, so all persons
agree in holding liars in contempt. Even the very
lowest persons consider themselves to be disgraced when
charged with the cuilt of lying. They can endure
charges which would subject them to public punish-
ment, with more composure than they can endure thi«.
A lie is always understood to be resorted to to secure
some advantage or prevent some evil to the person who
resorts to it ; or to occasion some disadvantage or in-
jury to the person to whom, or of whom, the lie is told;
sometimes both these purposes concur. The object in
view is always an immoral one, and the means used
are always regarded as disgraceful. It is at once obvious
that wilful falsehood is forbidden by natural law, which
is intended to regulate our social relations, and is ex-
pressly forbidden by Divine law, which condemns ali
acts of fraud and deceit, and commands us to do to
others ^^s we would have them to do to us.

2. I' is a rare occurrence that any one • ho depcendg
to falsehood succeeds in the object which he may have
in view. He is commonly detected, and if not, is sus-
pected, which may operate quite as much to his disad-
vantage. If he suould escape detection and suspicion,
he lives in constant fear of both. He has a very trouble-
some secret to keep. If he should be able to do this,
ptill he cannot hide it from himself that he is a liar ;
and such a person, by natural justice, is compelled to
pass that sentence upon himself which he knows that
others would pass upcn him if they were as well informed
as he is. A liar is therefore obliged to feel like a guilty
person, and a hf.bitual liar very soon conies to look like
one. If there be no higher motive than one's own in-
terest and welfare in speaking the truth and avoiding
falsehood, this is a very sufficient one. If a man is
Inown to be a person unworthy of confidence when he
speaks, he has not the benefit -f being credited even
when he speaks the truth ; he voluntarily deprives
himself of the advantages of social life; his assertions
secure to him no credit ; his promises are contemned ;
he makes himself to be alone in the very bosom of
society, for every one shuns him. In the administration
of juftice in courts, a person is not regarded as a witness
whose common reputation is that he is not believed
when he speaks. The objection to him is not that he
might not tell the truth in the matter which is on trial,
but that such a y-orson ought not to be received as a
witness because he cannot be credited in anything that
he says. ' AVhen suth a person has been called and
examined as a witness, it is usual to examine other
witnesses to prove his character ; and if it be provel
that he is unworthy of credit, what he has sworn to is
disregarded, though he may have declared the truth.
This is the common fate of all such unfortunate persons
in society as well as in courts. Independently of the
criminality, lying is very poor policy. If the object be
to obtain a supposed good, it rarely is obtained by such
means; and if it be, the price so paid r>ust always bo
greater than the good is worth. If the object be to
eonctal a wrong done, it is rarely successful; and if
not, it leaves the offender without excuse for Ll» error,
and lidds another wrong. If the object be to charge
an innocent person with a wrongful act, or to deprive
one of his good name, or of some lawful possession, or
subject him to so:ue evil which he ought not to endure,
the ofl'ence is of that cast which the law of the land
holds to be malicious, and it deals with such offence

46fi

CHAMBIBffS OTFOSMAnON TOR TBB PEOPLE.

accordingly. In »hort, H i» very diAcuU to rioUto wiy
law of natural juitice or Divine prohibition without
encountering an adec^uate puniihment; and it may be
assumed that the puniihment which followi lying is as
certain and juat as in any instance of criminality. If
every tenant of every prison, and if every p«rson who
la iu the custody of a goading conscience, were asked
this question, What wo* yow firit $ltp from innocence
andpurUjf f he would probably answer. Telling a lie I

BI.NCERITY AND INSINCERITY.

. These are other names for truth and fitlsehood. They
are not commonly applied to the most serious concerns
of human life, but t/i what are called the * imperfect
obligations.' Such obligations, it is well known, are
not enforced by the law of the land, but are binding
aa duties arising as well from naturaj law (reasonably
expounded) as from Divine law. Sincerity is a duty to
one's self, because it is demanded by self-respect. As
every one has an individual separate physical being, so
every one has a separate circle within which he exists,
and into which no one has a right to intrude. His
thoughts, motives, opinions, and policy are his own.
What he will or will not do (so that no wrong be done
to others, and no act of duty be withheld from them)
is for him to decide upon. Within this circle ho makes
up hix j itdgments on all persons and things. In his
outwa.d (Jeportment he mast frequently act in ft
roiuuer not consistent with these judgments. As aa
example: one has made up, from repeated observations
of a certain indivklttal, a very clear, but very unfavou::-
able judgment of hii. (|Uallties; but there is no occasion
to disclose what tie judgment is. The observer is
obliged, or finua it convenient, to meet this individual,
and to deal with him, and perhaps to interchange
courtciiies with him. It is undoubtedly proper to mani-
fest tbe respect, in such a case, which the decencies of
life require, and to show the common proofs of good-
will. There is no insincerity in this. Though uo one
can possibly avoid forming judgments of others, nor
avoid liking or disliking them, even including very near
friends and relatives, yet there may be a positive viola-
tion of duty in publishing these judgments or in dis-
closing these feelmgs. The Divine law, * Judge not, that
ye be not judged,' does not, it is believed, interdict
these judgments, because they cannot but be made;
but it forbids the wanton, unnecessary, and injurious
publication or manifestation of them. Those wiio are
keen observers of their fellow-men, see iu their luces,
in their manners, in their modes of speaking, in their
tonos of voice, in the sentiments which they express,
&c. causes for respect, esteem, contidcnce, and appro-
b'.tion; or they may see causes for disrespect, suspicion,
strong disapprobation, and disgust. But all these things
oeloii^ to the individual circle. It is not insincere to
ki»ep them there. On the contrary, society would bu
ir.tolerable if they were not kept there ; it ia very
hazardous to the observer to let theiu out unnecessarily.
He may bo mistaken botii as to the favourable and
unfavourable judgments which '"■ forms. Furthi!!- ob-
servation, new circumstaiicea, unexpected changes, may
essentially correct his judgment, and therefore a pru-
dent man will keep them to himjclf : tliey are his uwn
peculiar property, and were obtained for his owu use.
The worst form of insincerity is undoubtedly that which
leads one to pretend to feel a warm friendly interest
in the welfare of a person who is an object of iudittb-
rencc to him. This is a charge which has been fre-
quently brought agaiiist the dispensers of patronage.
There can be no doubt that public men, from their
peculiar situation, are liable to be greatly annoyed
by apnlioations for the exercise "f their iiiduenco in
behalf of individuals ia whom they take little or no
interest; and in replying to thoite applications great
caution and delicacy require to be employed, lest, on
the one hand, thry jrive oll'ence by their bluntness and
sincerity; or, or. tlio other, excite expectations whioii
they have neither *^he ability nor the intention to fuitil.
The petitioners Jiiay be over-ssnguiue and may, lioiu
45a

the court«Ry of the reoeption they mtfet with, be led to
•nt«rtein unrMMonable hopes which ww destined to be
disappoiutod; and therefore it it incumbent upon those
to - ,Iiom the applications are addiessed, while they lar
nothing that can offend the delicacy, or hurt the feel-
ings of the applicants, to express themselves in such a
manner as not to excite any hopes which they are not
only able, but willing to realise. The same rule ought to
be observed by individuals in every station of life; and
then fower disappointments would take place, and more
confidence would be entertained between man and man
in the unavoidable intercourse of society. Insincerity
is often demonstrated by paying false and silly compli-
ments, which assume the form of flattery — a word which
is derived from the Latin, and signifies wind, breath,
puflf. This is a kind of aliment which perverted self-
love finds to be exceedingly pleasant. Although it is
in truth precisely what ;ts origin indicates, there is
hardly a man, woman, or child who is not disposed to
partake of it, if it be artfully disguised. But, on the
other hand, all sensible persons, of whatever age or sex,
who see what it is, and why offered, feel for the flatterer
the contempt which he deserves. This insincerity is,
and ought to be, deemed a high ofl^ence. It implies
art and deceit iu the flatterer, and sufficient weakness
in the flattered, to be subdued to the purpose in view.
The flatterer's purpose ntay be to secure to himself no
more than a better esteem than he can have any pre-
tence to, and it may be, through that, to secure to
himself something which may be very costly to his
victim. All extravagant commendation of any person,
however estimable may be his qualities, and however
highly they may be appreciated by the bestower of the
praise, ought to be avoided. The praise may be per-
fectly sincere, but still it iin vi'l i.t>on of good maiuu'rs,
and is : direct insult to t understanding of the person
to whom it is administered. Sincerity requires no such
breach of the othei- moralities; and whenever it is exer-
cised in such a manner, it degenerates into rudeness.

civi'.iiy.

The well-being of society would be greatly promoted
if the nature and use of this Christian virtue were more
generally known. We take this to be, in personal in-
tercourse, the observance of the command, Do to otherii
as you would that others should do to you. The most
rapid glance at any community shows this — that some
of its members are brought into contact, in matters of
business, necessarily ; others meet, incidentally, who
have no particular connection ; others meet for social
pui'poses, in various forms; and tliat there is a large
pro[)ortion v/ho know of each other very little beyond
the fact, that they are of the same country, ond perhaps
not even that. There must be 11 •<•.«< rule of deport-
ment for all these classes; and no one will deny that
if this rule were defined, and faithfully applied, there
would l)e much more of bvcryday comfort and com-
placency in the world than there is well known to be.
If we rightly understand the meaning of civility, it i*
the manifestation of kind feelings, and of a desire tu do
all things which are to be dine under the influence of
such feelings, in a becoming and agreeable manner.

If every person understood the true foundation of
society, the common origin of all its members, their
natural and necessary sympathies, their com^iunity of
interests, their necessary action upon and with each
other, it might be supposed that all who are reasonablo
would be civil. They would bo so because they would
promote their owu good, because they would be doing
what it IS proper to do to promote the good of others;
and because they would know that in so doins they
would conform to the design of their creation. We dn
not include under the term civility the great duties of
justice, acts of munificence, important personal ser-
vices. These arise out of some special relation whieh
an individual bears to one or more other individuals.
It seems to \j6 limited to the manner in which the com-
mon or occi'iental intercourse of the members of society
iu goiicral should be carried on. This matter may be

ItraJ PRIVATE DUtlES 0^ LlFfi.

ritb, be I«d to
iMtincd to be
wnt upon thoM
wbile they MT
hurt the feel-
ilrei in luch •
a they nie not
le rule ought to
ion of life; and
ilace, and more
1 man and man
y. Insincerity
id silly compli-
— a word which
I wind, breath,
perverted self-
Although it it
icates, there is
not disposed to
i. But, on the
;eTer age or sex,
for the flatterer
m insincerity is,
ice. It implies
Bcient weakness
purpose in view,
re to himself no
I have any pre-
it, to secure to
ry costly to his
nof any person,
es, and however
bestower of the
kiso may be per-
)f good maniu'rs,
inp of the person
requires no such
snever it is exer-
into rudeneas.

jreatly promoted
virtue were more
, in personal iii-
uid, Do to others
you. The most
this — that some
ct, 111 matters of
icidentally, who
1 meet for social
thoi« is a large
»ry little beyond
ry, and perhaps
ruie of deport-
le will deny that
ly applied, there
iiufurt and coiu-
iU known to be,
of civility, it i*
of a desire tu do
the influence of
able manner,
foundation of
members, thoir
,f conriunity of
and with eauK
10 lire reasonable
lause they would
would be doing
good of others;
n so doing they
xeatioii. We dci
. great duties of
nt personal ser-
il relation which
tlior individuals,
which the com-
embers of society
is matter uuvy be

bitter undertiood by some examples. Thus if one
comes into the presence of another as a beggar, servant,
labourer, mechanic, trader, merchant, farmer, lawyer,
physician, clergyman, or public oflicer, or if it l>o a
female, or child of either sex, there may be very vaiious
modes of receiving these different persons — yet cer-
tainly, by every one of the laws which we are endea-
vouring to illustrate, these several persons are entitled
to civility. Even the beggar— perhaps one should rather
say the beggar in particular — if not deformed by volun-
tary transgression, should be received with civility; that
is, gentleness, kindness, decorum are to be observed
relatively to each one. Why 1 Because no man can
afibrd to be deemed insensiblo to the cause of reason-
able humanity; nor a stranger to the decencies of life;
nor ignorant of what is due from him, nor to him, in
any of his proper relations.

There is perhaps no kind of incivility more contemp-
tible than that which is exercised towards those servants
of the public, who would be liable to the loss of their
situations were they to resent — as they must naturally
feel inclined to do — the insolence to which they are
frequently subjected. It is no uncommon thing to hear
young men giving their orders in the most authoritative
and ofiensive manner to waiters' at inns, stewards of
steam-vessels, or any other class of functionaries whose
services for the time may be at their command; and
abusing the poor fellows who are doing their utmost to
serve them for their stupidity and awkvardness, while
they may all the while be performing their work in
the most eflicieiit and unexceptionable manner. And
tills impertinence they employ for the purpose of im-
pressing those who may be witnesses of t!<eir behaviour
with a favourable opinion of their smartness and know-
ledge of the world. Thej' could not adopt a, surer plan
to defeat the object which they have in view ; for every
well-bred person will regard their conduct with disgust,
and will look upon it as a sure indication of ignorani-e,
iinpertinence, and want of sense. This is an error, how-
ever, whicli, in the great majority of instances, time
and experience will correct. But we sometimes find
similar conduct manifested by those who cannot plead
youth and inexperience in justification of their coarse-
ness and incivility. Such persons we are in general
quite safe in setting down as individuals who wisii to
appear above the sphere in which they are entitled to
move, and who, feeling that they have no claim to the
character which they have assumed, endeavour to con-
ceal their deflciencies from the observation of others
by behaving in a nide und brutal manner to those
who nre prevented by their position from resenting
such coiidu ;t.

There is one other consideration which operates on
all men who have hna ni.-- h experience in the world.
Alen and things cuantte, and taKe new and unexpected
rciuiious. Persons who have l-,oeii long, and even iiiti-
niately oot»nected, suddenly or gradually sever; persons
who have known little of each other, end that little
uninteresting or oiifavourable, are broughi in contact
by some unexpected turn of affairs. Sometimes one
needs favours, or at least, gocd-will, from those he never
thought to be of the least importance to him. In such,
and in a, multitude of oth?r circumstances, one niny
find the »«lviintage» of having been acquainted with the
virtue of civility, which implies that one has given no
unnecossury offence. There are other cases in wLit-h
a person may be caileil on by duty to do thipjfs dis-
agreeable to hanself, in<i exceedingly so to others. But
' here cannot W any good Kose in performing such duty
morosely, and with inhumanity.

POi-ITENES.S — GOOD MANNlJRii.

A refined species of civility is sometimes expressed
by the term politeness, which is an exterior indication
of good-breeding or good manners, and may be defined
as 'hilt mode of belmi'iour which not only gives no
otlence, but which affords nrrreeablc sensations to our
fellow-creatures. In our inteniourse with the world,
thu species of civility is imperative. We possess no

right to give ofl%nce by language or actions to other*;
and we are bound to conduct ourselves agreeable to
the reasonable and set rules of society. Some severe
writers on morals have confounded polUenes* with Jn-
tineerity. They seem to imagine that the act of speak-
ing gracefully to another is necessarily mere grimace,
or an empty flourish signifying nothing. In many in-
stances, with insincere people, this may b« the case,
but it is not so with those of well-regulated minds. It
is always better to speak politely — that is, with extreme
propriety and delicacy — than coarsely, sulkily, or im-

Eertinently. We say cultivate politeness of manner
y all means, for it is refined civility, and will sparo
both ourselves and others much unnecessary pain.

Civilised society has in the course of time instituted
certain rules in the code of politeness, which, though of
little actual value, it is every one's duty to learn, be-
cause by knowing and acting upon them, we can make
life glide on much more smoothly and pleasantly than
if we remained in ignorance of them. These rules are
sometimes called the rules of etiquette. We shall here
briefly allude to a few of the more important of these
social regulations ; —

1 . Honour to the Female Sex. — Women are physically
weake ' than men. They are unable to defend them-
selves from insult or injury, and it would be considered
indeiic, te for them to do so, even if they possessed the
power. For these and other reasons, it is only simple
politeness and a sign of good sense to render any little
Bervi>*.i to women — to assist them when they appear in
any difficulty, to speak respectfully of them and to
them, and to give them honour whenever it can be
reasonably required. It will be observed, therefore, in
what is called good society, that women are treated
with exceeding delicacy and deference : they are of-
fered the best seat, or the only seat if there be no other;
allowed to walk next the wall, or at the farthest point
from danger, in the street; never rudely jostled against
ill a crowded thoroughfare; and are always parted from
with a respectful bow. All this is considered essential
in good manners, and attention to it will not in the
smallest degree degrade any man in the opinion of the
world. At the same time, as respects the women who
receive these attentions, it is expected that they will
not ' give themselves foolish airs,' or presume on the
forbearance and kindness of the stronger sex. In fact,
no female will do so who is acquainted with good man-
ners, or wishes to avoid being despised.

2. General Courtesy and Respect. — It is incumbent
on every one to be courteous or respectlid in his inter-
course with neighlxiurs, acquaintances, or with the
public generally. To inferiors, speak kindly and con-
siderately, so as to relieve them from uny feeling of
being beneath you in circumstances; to eouals be plfiiii
and unaffected in manner; and to superiors, show be-
coming respect, without, however, descending to sub-
serviency 01- meanness In short, act a manly, cour-
teous, and inufl'ensive part in all the sltuat.'ons in life
in which you may be placed. S<.>ciety, for i;ood and
sufli(-i;nt reasons, which it is needless here to explain,
hae i>rdained certn': modes of address, and certain ex-
terior signs if respectfulness, which it behoves ns to
support and personally attend to. In Eastern coun-
tries, tts ot old, it is the custom to uncover the feet and
to sit down, in tokrn of respect, on going into the pre-
sence of kings, or (;ii enterinfr any religious edifice or
private dwelling. In our country, the custom is entirely
the reverse. It is an established mark of respect to
uncover the head and to stand, in the situations which
we have mentioned, and to this point of e* '.quette we
are bound to adhere. Wo mi..it not, from a ly crotchet
of our own, violate the rules or customs whicli society
sanctions and enjoins, as long as these rules and cus-
toms are not opposed to reason and sotind morals, and
only refer to such trivial arrangements as taking off
our hat, making a bow.Kkiaking hands, or other matters
equaUy unworthy of dcSaberate ooiisideratioi None
but persons of a si^, eeejeatric turn of mind think of
disputing about ihme tsi^lM. On the same principle

4i7

CHAMBBIUra DrrOBMATIOX fOB TBI VEOPLB.

wj ihould gtr« aytTj one ilis titU which, bj law or
oourttiy, he uiuuU/ reoaivei.

8. Ptrmmal B«h«vioitr. — A w«ll-br«d niMi i* alwsyi
known hy the perfect «Me and trMiquiUitjr of hit man-
ner. Tbe*e are pointf to be caretully cultirated. Ac-
quire, if pouible, au eaijr confidence in epeaking, f-^ a«
never to appear abadied or confuted, tailing care, how-
ever, not to fall into the oppoiite error of forwardnets
or preeumption. Pcnoni moving in the highfl«t circloi
of lociety tuldom or ever allow themielvei to appear
diitiirboa or vexed whatever ocnurs to annoy theu).
Perhaps there iriay be an att'ectation of indifference in
thii; itill their conduct ii worth admiring, for every-
thing like fidgetineai or boiiterousueu of manner it
disagreeable to all who witnott it.

Carefully avoid the following things in personal be-
haviour: — Loose and harah speakinj;; making noises in
eating or drinking; leaning awkwurdly when sitting;
rattling with knives and forks at table ; starting up
suddenly, and going unceremoniously out of the room;
totting anything from you with affected contempt or
indifference ; taking anything without thanking the
giver; standing in the way when there is scarcely room
to pass; going before Hiiy one who is looking at a pic-
tun* or any other object ; pushing against any one with-
out beg)jr.:g pardon I'ot the unintentional rudeneM;
taking posseisiur of a scat in a coach, theatre, or place
of public meeting, which you are informed belongs to
another; intruding your opinions where they are not
wanted, or whore they would give offence; leaving ac-
quaintances in the street, or a private company, with-
out bidding them good-by, or at least making a bow to
express a kindly farewell ; slapping any one familiarly
on the shoulder or arm ; interrupting any one who is
conversing with you; telling long and tiresome stories;
whispering in company; making remarks on the dress
of those about you, or upon things in the room ; flatly
contradicting any one, instead of saying, ' I rather
think it is otherwise,' ' 1 am afraid you are mistaken,'
&c. ; using slang expressions, or words of a foreign
language; acquiring a habit of saying * says she,' ' says
he,' 'you know,' 'you understand,' &c. ; helping your«
self at meals without first asking if you may not assist
others to lomcthing which they would like ; picking
your teeth with your fork, or with your finger; scratch-
ing or touching your head ; paring or cleaning your
naili before i\)nipany ; mentioning the price of any
article of foixl ur drink which you arc off'eri'ig to guests;
asking questions or alluding to subjects which may
give pai'' to those you luldress ; neglecting to answer
letters. It would be easy to enumerate many other
things which should bo avoided as savouring of bad
manners, but these will be sufficient to indicate the
principle of politeness, and if that be understood, there
can 1)6 no difficulty in knoning how to act with deli-
cacy and discretion in all the concerns of life.

4. (kntility and Vulgarity. — Ily attention to the rules
of pood-breeding, such .■^. we have just allu<led to, the
poorest man will be entitled to the character oi' agentle-
num, and by inattention to tliem the most wealthy in-
dividual will hv essentially vulgar. Vulgarity signifies
coarsuiiess or indelicacy of manner, and is not neces-
sarily associated with poverty or lowliness of condition.
Thus an operative artisan niiiy be u gentluniun, and
worthy of our particular esteem ; while an opulent
merchant may be only a vulgar clown, uiili whom it is
impossible to be on terms of friendly intercourse. Vul-
garity of manner is often exliibited in its niont oftbn-
tive "form by persons originally of humble birth and
breeding, who have risen to wealth by the force of
fortuitous cir>?uiu8tances. It is not uncommon to hear
persons of this class, particularly 'ladies,' speaking
of ' my coach,' * my house,' ' my governess,' * my
family,' ' my servants,' 'my fumiture,' iijnl so forth;
alt which is real vulywity, and indicates a low tone of
bree<ling, and weak understanding on the part of the
speaker. A man or woman of refined taste never
alludes to matters of dress, domestic convenience, or
things (trictly personal, and rather oudeavouri to di- 1
450

reut conversation into thota channelt in which kU pit*
Mat may hariuo&ioutijr Join.

ANaun.

One of the mott important of oar private dutiei !■ th«
duo regulati.m of the pattions. We naturally pottcw
certain menlialafl^<iction» called pro/wnirtttM, which, when
properly restrained, larve a good purpoie, both indivi-
dually and tooi&U; , but when let louse, or badly regu-
lated by the ui>de>itanding, lead to the cummiulon of
many viciout and abominable actiont, which in niomeutt
of calm reflec'/ion, and when our conscience it aroused,
we deeply lament and regret. Irritability of temper,
as demonstrated in the paMion of anger, ia one of the
moat unhappy of these derangements of our intellect.

The causes of anger are supposed to be tht'Nc : — Fir»t^
by the law of nature and of society, every oiiu has rights
in what ho regards as his own property; itcondt one
has a right to hold unimpaired whatsoever he can justly
acquire in reputation and character; ih'irdf ho has a
right to have nis feelingi respected by others, if he do
no wrong to their feelings; foturlh, he baa a right to
havi 'he like rights respected in those with whom he
is iiL'wLtarilv connected by family and social tios;//(A,
he has a "ifflit to be tteated with justice, and according
to estabi'iiuitd laws, by those who are intrusted with
power ; njclh, be has a right to have those who are
bound with him in a common lubjection to luch lawt,
treated with juttice. Whenever any one is offended
by the violation of any of these rightt, he may be jutti-
fiably angry. But in what manner, and to what end
he shall express his anger, to or to do himself the
greatest justifiable good, is the thing to be known.

Every one who has had a violent fit of anger upon
him, knows that it was to himself (independently of the
cause and object of his anger) a painful and even a very
distressing sensation. No one ever looked back upon
such a state of things, as to himself, with satisfaction,
but generally with regret, and sometimes -vith remorse.
lie feels humbled and grieved in his own ^estimation of
himcolf. He may too well remember that he used ex-
pressions and did acts which he is grieved to have rest-
ing in the memory of others or in his own. It is pro-
bable, also, that no one ever saw another in a violent
passion without feeling that tliis angry person was de-
grading himself, and acting more like a bruie than a
rational being. Whatever be the cause of such anger
in another, cool spectators always regard the angry
person as under a temporary less of reason, and in dan-
ger of doing some serious mischief, and are pronijUed
to restrain him. Every one feels in such a case that
the least that can happen to one so acted upon, and so
acting, is that he is preparing for himself hours of self-
reproach and of bitterness. If no one likes to remember
that ho was violently angry himself, and if he is offended
ill seeing others so, it must be admitted tiiat violent
Hiiger is contrary to natural law, as it most certainly is
to Divine law. It is an abuse of the trust confided to
us to promote our own welfare.

It is lonsistcnt with reason for anyone who is under
the infii.ence of anger to be prepared to ask and answer
the question, whether the wrong is real or only supposed,
and ^thethcr he is hiinnelf free from the first imputation
of ha/ing occasioned by his own error that which he
regards t s a wrong 1 If the offt 3e is real, other ques-
tions arise of t*-'" nature: What real gco'l shall I secure
to inysi'' by attempting to get a reparation] and in what
respect bhall ' advance my own welfare by attempting
to punish tho offender] May I not, in either of these
attempts, iin oh <: myself by words or acts in tome
wrong, anil give my adversary the advantage of finding
me an ofF.'ncler, in trying to vindicate myself? If I couid
tiuccecd in my attempt, what will it come to \ Shall I
not make the wrong done to me more notorious, and
subject myself to the pity and compassion of others!
Is it not better to be silent, and quiet, and leave the
offender to time and his own conscience, than to engage
myself in a controversy which is sure to be vexatious,
and in which I shall run the risk of doing wrong, and

THE PMVATB DVTnSB OF UWJL

ih ftUpit*

iitiM !i th«
lUv potwH
rhich,when
rtth iiidiyi-
taiUy rexu-
uiiiiMioii of
ill moiii«uta
it arouied,
of temper,
one of the
inttillKct,
et,.' : — Fint,
\ii bai right*
Mcond, one
e can juitly
■}, bo haa a
iri, if hu do
I a right to
th whom he
n\ ties; //(A,
id accoiding
trusted with
ose who aro
:o luch Ifiwi,
I is oilended
nay bejusti-
to what end
hiniaelf the
known.
' anger upon
dently of the
d even a very
id back upon
gatiafactiou,
vith reraorgc.
Lstiraation of
t he used cx-
to have rcet-
n, U i« pio-
r in a violent
Tson was de-
bruie than a
such anger
the angry
,nnd in dan-
iro prompted
1 a caa^ that
upon, and bo
huura of self-
to icnieraber
he is oH'ended
tiiat violent
certainly il
confided to

who is under
_ and answer
Illy Bupposed,
, imputation
lat which he
, other quuB-
shall I secure
and in what
y attempting
ther of these
jt» in souie
ige of finding
in If 1 could
to! Shall I
otorious, and
)n of others?
nd leave the
.au to engage
be vexatious,
g wrong, and

b which I ih*l\ 1 ot b< likely to get <»nT goodi If I
iuuc««d in humbling my advAnwry, I ihali «uroiy maka
him my eiicmpr for ever; for, in tho nature of man, he
it slow to forgive the woundii inflicted on hit own tolf-
love. When thii matter it over, and time ba» ditti-
pated the miati which now urevoiit a clear view of it,
and when other feeling* and aentimuntt have arisen,
ihall I_ like myself the better iot having been tiieu«
and quiet, than if 1 shall have attempted to commaud
justice and to inflict fiunithmentl It is probable that
young and ardeui niiiids, and those who are looking
back by the light of oxperiente, will answer such tiuet-
tJoub verjf dirterently. Hut thti experienced can tell tho
young with sorrowful truth, that among the most pain-
ful suflerings of life are to be numbered those which
have arisen from sudden impuUuH of anger, oxpretsed
in words or acts. The experienced can also toll, with
like truth, that in the common occurrences of life, angry
word* and acta have seldom if ever accomplished the
purpose for which they were intended ; they have
ueilher obtained juatice nor punished the oilender; but
on the contrary, thoy havo often converted the injured
party into an oiTeuder himself, and involved him iv
bit r recriminations, keeping up an irreconcilabla
aveidioD, and even enmity, througa life. We have so
far supposed that a real and justifiable cause of anger
existed. But I*; U in many coses imaginary, especially
among young persons. They take u|) sudden impros-
tions conceciiing tho supposed conduct and words of
their associates and acquaintances, when no such con-
duct or words have occurred; or if any did, none with
intention to wound or otl'end. If there be one caso in
which an individual feels himself peculiarly and pain-
fully humbled, it is when ho has manifested anger to-
Wivrds one who I'as committed no offence, or who is
entirely unconscious of having done so.

It sometimes happens that an offended person can
ToaUaiu himself from expressions and words when he
has been seriously oitended. liut he cheriahes a ma-
licious sort of feeling against the offender, broods over
the wrong done, and permits his imagination to inflame
the sense of wrong, until he makes himself too unhappy,
under this excitement, not tu express it in some mode
which will occasion pain or affliction to the offender.
If there be any one who has fallen into such a condi-
tion, he may be iisked, whether he knows of anythiitg
in tho nature of regret or remorse for his own follies
and sins, which is so exceedingly burthensouie, as to
carry about with him the fcliiig of aversion, ill-will,
and malice,, towards onu who has offended 1 What, then,
is to be done i angry words and acts are forbidden by
the law of nature, by self-respect, and by convenience;
the memory of an unavenged wrong is intolerable. Is
there no remedy 1 We think there is one in every per-
son's power. If the individual with whom one is at
variance can, by calm expostulation, or by mutual
friends, be brought to a just perception oi the case, that
ia the remedy. If that fails, there ia another; it is of
high authority ; • If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.'
Blot such a person from the memory; never permit
him to comb into your thoughts. Will you pass your
life in humiliating bondage to sisch a one i We say,
blot auch a vne out of your memory. You do liim no
wrong by that. You do yourself a just and great good :
you cut a moral cancer out of your heart.

Among the sources of affliction in human life, is the
uncailed-for interference of third persons in the angry
collisions of others. It may sometimes be an unavoid-
able duty to take i\ part in an angry quarrel. When
this dut^ is to be performed, it concerns every one who
is mindful of the trust confided to him of taking care of
himself, not to engage in tho controveray in such a
manner as to become a priucipul party in it. As a
general rule, it is the safe course to let argry persons
settle their own concerns as they can. Certainly no
one who claims to be regarded as having a discreet
sense of his own welfare, plunses himse,. ' into a quarrel.
Yet this is a very common thing. It it often seen in
ichools. Parties aud divisions grow up, extend, and

b«come mora and mora bittor, from the most triflinf
cHuset, and ara often carritd out Into manhood, and
show their evil consequonoat through life. Thit is so
because inipreitiont made in that seaton are vary vivid
and durable. It it a duty tometimft to take a part
in controversies. It must be remembered, when one
engages in tuch quarrel, that one it dealing with par-
sons who are under a sort of derangement, and who are
most exceedingly eientilivo, and perhapa mutually vin-
dictive. Those who interpose aro bound, by the law of
self-regard, to interfere with calmnesa and aound dii-
orction, and so to conduct themselves in word and deed
as to do no evil to themaelves while they attempt to do
all the good potsiVle to the augTy parties. On the
whole, mismanaged .uigor is a prolific source of suffer-
ing, Yet when calmly looked back upon in a great
miijority of coses, the cause was some insignificant
triiie, magnified into lierioua importan<:« by angry words
and pitiuil uctt. tiuch is the propensity of persons to
buBV thomselves in the quarrels of others, that there it
little reason to hope that a preventative can be success-
fully offered to any but to those who have studied out
and who reverence tho will of the Deity, as disclosed in
tho nature of tluiigs, and in hiH own positive law.

SKLF-KESPKCT.

Every oii4 haN some sort of opinion, more or less dii-
tinct, of ail persons with whom he is acquainted. This
opinion may embrace intellect, disposition, virtues,
vices, personal appearance, deportment, condition iu
life. So also every one has sime opinion of himself on
the same, and on many other subjects best known to
himself, AVhen one examines his own opinion of him-
self, he seems to do it as though he were another per-
son, lie uses the eyes of others, lie turns aside, as it
were, by the way, to see himself pass by. The judgment
which one forms of himself is often much more unsound
than that wiiich he forms of others. The eye cannot see
itself; so neither can any one see himself. lie must
uae a mirror. There are many of these. History, books,
daily example, his own experience, cveiy person be
conies in contact with, are mirrors. If he sees himself
in these, and thereby corrects his own errors and follies,
and gives himself rcKSonable and just credit for his
attainments, he may come at length to be entitled to
entertain a respect for himself. There is a certain best
thing CO be done, and a certain best manner of doing it,
in oil possible clrcuinstanccti in which one may find
himself. Nothing is entitled to be considered best which
does not confonu to natural law, the law of God, the
positivo law of the land, the conventional laws of society
(so far as they lire founded in reason and good sense),
and to the decencies of life, To that best thing and to
that best manner no one perhaps ever perfectly at-
tains; but it cannot be doubted that there is some such
standard. He who comes the nearest to it is he who is
best entitled to entertain a respect fox bluself.

FRIDK,

There is a kind of pride which is often mistaken for
self-t sped. We hear of honourable aud of laudable
pr> le. We take pride to be that self-esteem in which
a man holds himself. It may be founded in his esti-
matiou of the qualities of his mind, iu his attainments,
in his possessions, ill his strength, his beauty, his paren-
tage, and descent. It may also be founded in a con-
sciousness of virtue, ivnd of having faithfully done one's
duty iu all the relationii of life. It seems to arise
necessarily from comparing one's self with other per-
sons. If this be the right meaning of pride, it is very
clear that it is net always a sentiment which entitles
one to respect himself. A man would be thought to
be very unwise who should openly declare that he
valued himself^ in comparison with other men, on ac-
count of his wealtL, his beauty, or his family connec-
tion; equiiUy unwise if he should declare his opinion
of himself to be, tbB,t he was superior to other men in
the gift of natural intellect, in the cultivation of it, or
in thti practice of the various virtues. The common

<::9

CHAMDEIUI'8 INFOBM^TIOM FOft THD HOPLt.

■eoM of mankiutl, founilwl in imiurftl f«Mon, doM not
»pprove of that loJf-gntuUtioii whioh rMta im the noci-
(lent of birth, of iiih«ritttin:o, or av»n on tiif- ir^iuitllion
iif fortune by oii«'i own inJuetryj nurdu^sii approve of
th*t feeiiiijf when founded on (|mvl.tief u;>s'vii belong
tu the mind, nor even in tho pinotice >,' aiit »irtuee,
unlvM when iiiuniftiited in a wrtain manner. There
mutt bo, in the very nature of tin 411, eome p«rfon« in
overy community, large or iinali, who uv auperior to
olbon in tbe«*.« aurcei of Belf-eeteoih. I every city,
town, and vlli'.i;;{i> \i\ (hit nation, thero art aunie pentont
ivho i4rn in fx.xtwi'ja of lomo of tbnie cauie* ut' iwlf-
citoeni in Mime comparative dei<ree, and other pertuin*
who have the fowett ur the leant of tlieni. ThoM who
10 uae their advauta^et m to entitle thonir^elvei to the
uiteem of oth«r«, and who ore aoknowludged to b« re-
apectable for that uie, may well be entitled lu re^iptn t
theumelvc* from kuch oauws. Those who u»e theuk in
ifuoh a manner a« to announce the feeiinx of tuperiority
over other*, and habitually to ott'end thv watctilul feel-
ing of lelf-lovc, are properly culled tht proud. It i»
bolleved that thcite view* conform to natural law, and
to the neceeury conetitution of human lociety.

VANITY.

A (till greater mistake i« made in lubstituting vanity
for eelf-respect. The word vanity in made out of two
Latin wordB which lignify ejtK*:ediwj empliuea. It in
commonly undentood to mean a ntruiig deiire to be
noticed, considered, aiid eNteem;id by others, but on
account of things rarely worthy of ii rational mind.
Vain persons covet praise. They thrust themselves, and
all on whicli they value titemnelves, upon the notice
of others. Thoy delight in reoounling their achieve-
nients, and sometimes moke tho sad blundiir of si>eak-
iiig to those Mrho know they are iL^staken, i'liey touch
adroitly on their own excellences, and provoke others
to descant upon them. They havu sucli delightful
visions of (ielf-complacency, that it »eeuiB cruel to dis-
turb thoni. Such persons are very ready to become
tools in tho hands of mora knowing persons. In general,
(be display of this poor passion is made liy persons of
very light and frivolous minds. It is seen at all ages,
but strikingly in youth. To see n young person strut-
ting or mincing along in a new garment, or in some
|)«T»onal onutment, and watching to see if he is noticed,
and b/ whom, excites a feeling of pity una contempt.
The same feeling arises when young persons ara iieen,
who say in their movements, as intelligibly as though
they spoke in plain English, ' Do they not think uie
very handsome — elegantly dressed— a chamiing figure
— most exceedingly graceful!' in lorae instances
lookers-on do think so, and smile contemptuously at
the same time. Hut in general lookers-on see no such
thing a* the vain imagine; they do see that which it
would be shocking to those votaries of vanity to know
M teen. They do Boe talents wasted, time misspent,
foolish hopes, and vain desires. They do see th^t the
purposes of life are n' isunderstood or perverted. Ii
there any remedies for these follies 3 None, probably,
unless one would bring home to the minds of the vam
that they violate the strongest precept laid down in the
code of natural law fur the government of persons in-
dividually and socially. Tlint (trec^pt commands them so
to conduct themselves in all things, as to entitle them-
•eWes to self-respect, vmA consequently to the respect
of others. If the vain could conceive how small a por-
tion they make of created being, how insigitificant a
part they make of civilised society, how many there are
in that society whose pretensions, if asserted, would be
transcendently superior to their own, they might per-
haps dismiss their little vanities, and devote themselvea
to gratifications worthy of their intended nature.

GRATITUDE AND INOKATITVDE.

If a destitute young person should attract tho notice

of a wealthy man, and should be by him supported,

educated, and established in the world, so a« to be able

to live, to become independent and reip«£table, every

480

one would my that this U • eua for the fe«ling and th«
expntiion or fMrvent gratitude. Ijet as suppose that
the patron of this young roan ft«quently reminds him
of his former condition, and by wliiU n>«ant he flnda
himself where he i». Suppose the piuron exacts a fre-
ipient acknowledgment of hit bout ty, and takes to
btiuself unqualifluit praise for liis goodness. I^t us
sup|K>s« that the obliged party hnds his condition v«>ry
irksome, and almost wishes that he had nevtM >)cen tbu
subject of such burdmisonie favour, and is iic length
provoked lo say so — it h$ ungittteful f It would seem,
tlien, that gratitude has two sides to it, as well as two
jiirties. Ho who has conferred a favour has not done
nil which it concerns him to do; and he who receives a
favour may have a difiirult task to perform. A bargain
is an exchange of one thing for another, and the parties
art! even. The conferring of favours, whether these
be asked for or not, teems to stand on very diflerunt
grounds. Many elements make up that compound from
which gratitude is said to arise. The parties may un-
dorstand the nature of the favour very difl'erently at the
time when it is conferred, and more differently nfti'
wardd. He who confers, has a retentive meiimry
wi)o receive*, a fading one : time engraves the U-
deeper and deeper in the former, and wears it out 1.
and III I'u in the latter. In the former, it often preser
the fru.ihness of a new occurrence; in the latter, tl.
seiisu <if favour ufu-.i goes, and the weight of obligatiuu
alone remains. It may be that the complaints made
against ungrateful persons are not always well-founded,
and that the expectations of those who confer favours
are a* little so. 8ome poet has written —

' llu that's ungrutofUl hn iin only fiiult—
All other crlnitu may it&ns fur vlnucs in him.'

The miianing of this couplet must be, that the members
of society are under no obligations to confer favours,
and that, if they do confer them, tlu ,>arty obligci is a
monster if he do rwt -whalY \Ve know not whiit is
intended, nor that thur» is any rule by which gratitude
is to be manifested. We think that every member of
society h to do what of good lie can, and to whomsoever
stands in need of it. lie is not to stop to measure and
calculate how he is to be paid for it. He may not be
paid by the party benefited directly, but by some other,
and in some other and unexpected way. Whosoever
confers favours, opens an account with the changes, and
chancus, and accidents of life. His rredit side will look
well in the close. If he confer a favour, he does it
because he thinks he can and ought to do it. He has
the pleasure of doing it. If he withet to avoid the
affliction of ingratitude, he hat only to aroid letting the
party obliged know, unnecessarily, whence the benefit
comes. When a favour it done, the party conferring
it takes on himself the duty of respecting that feeling
of the human heart which is founded in reasonable self-
love, and which is entitled to respect — thar is, not lo ask
one who luu had llie mu/orlum to be hound in cfiaiiw, to
clank them for the gratifieatwii of Mm who put them on.
There are cases of extreme ingratitude. They may
have been occasioned by the irritating ur indiscreet
conduct of the party who wai entitled to a difTerent
return. They are not of common occurrence. When
they do occur, uncaused, the disappointed party may
hope to find a better subject in his next essay.

SLANDER.

This is a twofold crime: 1. It it a breach of natural
law, of Divine law, and of the implied law of society, in
relation to the party spoken of ; '2. It is a breach of
the same law in relation to the party speaking. It has
been commonly treated of in the first relation. It is
now to bo noticed in the second; and if it be shown
why it is a breach in this, the other will take care of
itself. We beg leave to ask a slanderer a few questions:
Do you desire to be esteemed in society for your intel-
ligence, your sense of justice, your knowledge of the
decencies of life, and for the observance of them ) !f
you happen to be ill-tompered, petulant, and ditn^ee-

H F'Ori'tBB riUTATE PT'TtEH OF LIFE.

iling and tti<
luppoM that
ntmiiidi him
ant ha finds
oxaoti a frc<
kiiil takei to
lau. lyet ut
inditioii v<»ry
BTei »>cen the
ii in. loiiKlh
I would teem,
tt well at two
hat not done
rho receiret a
n. A bargain
tid the partiei
rhether theae
Tery ditl'eront
impound from
rtiot may un-
ferently at th''
ferentty oftc
I inemori
n th<<
tn it out iH
jftcii pregen
the latter, ti.
t of obligatioi.
npiainti made
I well-founded,
confer faroun

in liini."

kt the members
confer favours,
fty obliged 18 A
)w not what is
vhich gratitude
ery member of
to whonitoever
o niecture and
le may not be
by tome other,
Whosoever
iechangei, aiul

side will 1" k
>ur, he does it
do it. He has

to avoid the

oid letting the
ice the benefit
arty conferring

ij» that feeling
annable self-
is, not to ash
Mi 'H chainu, to
ho pill them on.
They may
Of indiscreet

to a different
rrence. When

ted party may

essay.

»ach of natural

kwof society, ii.

is a breach of

caking. It has

relation. It is

if it be shown

ill take care of

few questions:

for your intel-

owledge of the

of them? If

t, and disii>4];ree-

abU to your family manections and aatociatM) '.f yon
luake hasty and troublesoma judgmrnts, which you hnvr
to rescind or rtfonn ; if yuu happen t» b« ridiculous in
your denoriweiit, aitd remarkable for illly vanities ; are
you willing to have thcie things s«t forth in any, and
•very company, by any one who knows of them (
Suppose there to l)« only some slight foundation for
some one or more of these things, which, if vdu could
have an opportunity to eiplain, would Ih! entirely
cleared up, are you willing to havo that slight founda-
tion made tho basis of a structure nl' reproach, which, if
trtio and real, ought to expel you from deiont loci«ty1
buppose there to be no foundation at all for any such
accusation of vouiself, and yet somehow, and uii-
accminlably, it is allont and circulating, should you not
thinli great injustice to be done to you I This is just
what you do to others. You take away their good
name, if they ueservo to have one; you magni'y their
little faults and errors, and make them ri'' iis or
odious; you try them on indictments for ter t )■>

on which th<!y have no opportunity to ■K'*'...'. •;...•'
selves, and of which they are ignon>' V^^<.r '''d
you get your information) What i AA ■■•■■'■ •'■>y
entitled tu from whom you had it 1 Did you uiiue. ..tnd
them as they meant to be understood 1 Where and
how did your informants learn what they communi-
cated 1 Were they thoughtless ur malicious slanderers
like yourself 1 Mow much have you added to their
slanders by way of recommending and making yourself
agreeable 1 mve you broken any law by this conduct \
We take the liberty to answer for you.

You have broken every law which an honest and
honourable man, and a ratioual individual, should
respect. 1. You have made every person whom you
have spoken to fear you and shun you. You have
shown that you know not what the value of a good
name is, and have forfeited your own, if you ever had
any. You have shown that you are a stranger to self-
respect; that you have probably every one of the faults,
follies, and errors which you impute to others; and
desire to bring them down to your own level. Thus
you have broken that law which commands you to do
no evil to yourself. 2, You have violated that principle
of natural law which commands you to do no injustice
to your fellow-men. You know not what opinions you
may entertain of the party you have slandered if cir-
cumstances (as thciy may) should bring you into con-
nection with him. You may find him to be, on a better
knowledge of him, an amiable and worthy person. You
may find all that you have said, and helped to circulate,
utterly groundless. If he be one whom you occasionally
meet, and even ask to partake of your hospitality, how
can you meet him, und manifest towards him every
sentiment of respect and esteem, when you have xo
spoken of him I One of two things must be true —
either you aet a He, when you meet him in such a man-
ner; or you spoke a He, when you represented him as
you did to others. S. You hare broken the law of God.
To this law perhaps you are a stranger, and know not
what wrong you have done. If so, the kindest thing
that any one can do you is, to urge you to find out what
it is, and to learn there the sentence of the slanderer.

It may be asked whether one is to be entirely silent
at all times, and on all occasions, as to the character
and conduct of others t Certainly not. There are
many occasions for speaking of others, and for speak-
ing the truth of them, whatever that may be. All tho
members of any community are interested in knowing
the true character of each other. The knowledge that
this character may be known is one of the most salu-
tary correctives ot' erroneous conduct, and one of the
strongest inducements to pursue that which is com-
mendable. It is probably the case that the members
of every community are pretty well understood by all
who have an interest in knowing them. We know not
of any law which holds it to be immoral to speak the
fntth of anjr one from good motive*, and for juttifiable
ends. It is all-important that this principle should pre-
vail in our country, where lo much depends on public

opinion. 8are)y one's ami are tint to be folded, and
his lips closed, when he sees one bent on mischief,
public or private. It may b^ one of the highest moral
duties to declare what mr t, » ^d what thev are
aiming at, in many supr .. e casei There can be no
suroi 1,'iiide than the m > and tho end. Inquiries are
somutimes made, in mi ' -a of greater or leu interest,
concerning others, contidentially, and where the in-
quirer needs to be truly iiifornind. The party inquired
of has a right to be silent if he thinks he has good
reason to be so ; but if he answer, he is bound to state
tho truth. If he chose to speak, and wilfully conceal
the truth, so that the inquirer is deceived, he subjects
himself to the imputation of an intentional deceiver.

There may be also, and there frequently are, con-
fidential discussions of character, especially concerning
public men, and where perhaps there is no particular
end in view. This dues not seem to be wrong; such
intercourse is not founded in malicious or unworthy
motives: it is even sometimes instructive and nhilo-
souhical. This perhaps is the extreme limit. In all
other imaginable cases it is probably most consistent
with one's own self-respect, and all truly respectable
motives, to let other persons alone, and leave to them
the caro of their own cnaractcrs.

PHOPANITY.

Excepting the high crimes which are punishable by
the public laws, there is no one so shockitig as profunitij,
nor any one which there is so little inducement to com-
mit. Profane swearing is of two kinds: — i. That in
which the Deity is called on to do the pleasure of a
sinning mortal; 2. That in which the Deity is called on
to witness the truth of such a being's thoughtless or
wicked declarations. This common practice can be ac-
counvcid for chiefly on two grounds: — 1. Pitiable igno-
rance; 2. Abominable wickedness. On the first ground,
surely the profane swearer must be ignorant of tho
import of the terms which he uses) If he did under-
stand his own words, he would be struck with horror.
Surely if there be any escape for the profane from thab
condemnation which they miprccate on others, it must
be, that mercy will be extended to them in compassion
for their ignorance. On the other hand, if they are not
ignorant, but do knowingly and wilfully so misuse tho
gift of an immortal mind, and that unquestionable proof
of Divine power and goodness, the ability to speak, they
cannot be subjects of moral instruction. They should
be left, like the consumers of alcohol and tobacco, to
shock and to warn others.

.Swearing, which formerly pervaded every rank of
society, is now to be chiefly found in a very low and
uninstructed class: it is, in fact, a vulgar and pro>
scribed mode of speech. Nevertheless it ie still used
occasionally by persons of no humble rank, especially
by the young, though chiefly for the purpose of giving
an emphasis to speech, or perhaps simply to give token
of a redundancy of spirits, and a high state of excite-
ment. To those who are guilty of it for these reasons,
it is only necessary to point out that no well-informed
person can be at the least loss, with the genuine words
of the English language, to express all legitimate ideas
and feelings, and that to use either profane or slang
words is, at the very least, the indication of a degraded
taste and an inferior understanding.

Does not one who is habitually profane necessarily
entertain a low opinion of himself? Would any respect-
able merchant, or mechanic, or farmer receive into his
sen'ice a youth whom he knew to be a profane swearer t
Could any one who is known to be such find admission
into any school, academy, seminary, or college ] Would
any respectable parent admit such a one to be a com-
panion of his children, or a visitant in his family t
Would not every reasoning person say that a youth who
is so ignorant as not to know that swearing is a viola-
tion of natural and Divine law, must be ignorant enough
not to know that there are many other laws for the
proper goveniment of society, and consequently that he
18 an unsafe person to be trusted? If the profanity be

461

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OHAHBIBffS UnroBMAIIOir FOB THB FEOFUS.

the conieqneBoe of rolantuy wiokednaM, then luiel;
»U refleoting penoni would My that he who is wicked
in this rekpect if indeed wicked; but then he will be
wicked in others alio. For ai there is one chain which
runs through all the rirtuei, and binds them in a sym-
pathetic union, so also is there a chain which unites all
the vices. He who swears may be justly suspected of
drinking; he who swears and drinks may be justly sus-
pected of gaming; he who swears, and drinks, and
games, must keep very bad company by day and by
night. He who keeps such company f:om such motives
must squander bis own property, or steal that of home-
body else to expend. He who robs another will commit
forgery, and he who is so desperate ae to commit tliese
two latter crimes will not hesitate long to put a human
being out of the way of his pressing wants if he is
tempted to do it. It is probable that haoitual lying
and swearing are the first steps in that mournful series
of crimes, and the £rst beginnings in the course of de-
plorable wretchedness, which deform and disgrace hu-
man society. Will any one maintain that these are
necessary evils, and that Ood has so made 4\ian that
they cannot be prevented I Surely these are evils wholly
of human origin; and where they begin, there also lies
the power to extirpate them.

EMVT.

It is to be kept in view that the main object is to
show that this is a good sort of existence if man knew
how to use it, and that he is the author of his own af-
flictions. This is remarkably illustrated in the matter
of mw. It is probable that a large proportion of man-
kind, in all classes, suffer from the dominion of this
passion. It can be shown that it is peculiarly the
passion which man has made for himself out of emula-
tion, which latter is the Creator's work. In this in-
stance, man has been exceedingly ingenious and suc-
cessful in making himself miserable. He has done
worse: he has provided for himself, in creating envy, a
fountain which sends forth not one water, but many,
and each one foul and poisonous. He who has sub-
mitted himself to envy bos bound himself to think, to
feel, and to act as envy prompts. It would be most
shocking to know what agency this monster has had in
human affairs. If any one should read history, and
watch the movements of his fellow-men, merely to learn
the operation of this principle of action, he would see
probably the most operative cause of the misery which
men inflict upon themselves and on each other. If one
has not time to read history, and watch his fellow-
men, he may perhaps learn much of what he would
find in these authorities by rmditig his otan heart.

Envy arises from perceiving in other persons qualities
which one's own self-love leads him to wish to have — '
as beauty, strength, grace, learning, power, &o. It
extends to riches, to office, to the respect and esteem
in which one is held by his fellow-men, and even to
birth and ancestry. It makes one sorry that he hoe
not these good things, and makes him angn/ that others
have them. One easily persuades himself that great
injustice is done to him, in that he has them not. The
next step is to hate him who has them. Then comes the
desire to deprive the supposed fortunate possessor of
the benefit of them. But to admit that one has these
malignant promptings, is contrary to another princinle
of self-love; and therefore no man tells another of his
own envy, and he tries to wrap it up from his own view.
As he cannot and dare not openly manifest that he is
envious, he must obey the suggestions of malice in the
dark. He therefore intrigues, insinuates, and Ihecomes
adroit in putting one thing for another; he secretly and
by covert means undermines the object of his hatred.
He whispers his doubts, suspicions, opinions, and belief.
If the tenure of the hated object is too strong to be
shaken, tlien the bad use which he makes of his advan-
tages are sought out. The base accompaniments of his
fine qualities are assiduously brought forth, and placed
in the strongest light. 'She is beautiful; but she is
Tain, haughty, and silly. He is rich ; but he got hia
462

wealth by fraudi, and howdi it Ilka » mlwr. Re ii
able, eloquent, and popular; iirf he is selfish and in.
sincere, and would put a yoke on every neck In the
country if he could. He is making a great flourish in
the world; but it is all false and hollow^ha oame from
nothing, and will go back to nothing.' It may be easily
inferred that one who has thus surrendend himself to
the dominion of envy, not only deprives himself of the
nrofltable use of what he has or might have, but makes
himself wretched in contemplating what he must know
he cannot have: he is so wrought upon, that what-
soever seeds of crime he may have in his heart are sure
to start into luxuriant and dangerous growth.

Can ADy rational being doubt that this sort of sufller-
ing and crime is entirely of man's making I Can it be
doubted that he can prevent them t These are viola-
tions of natural law and Divine law; and no law comes
from this source which cannot be understood and
obeyed. Let us take an example, and seek out the
unreasonableness and immorality of envy; and to do
this effectually, we must take a strong case, and in some
degree a fanciful one. Let us tupposa that in a serai-
nary of females there is one who is very beautiful; her
parents are very rich, and are highly respectable; and
that this young lady is distinguished by her genius, and
her diligence and good conduct, and is obviously in the
receipt of the preceptor's unqualified approbation. Let
us further suppose that there are some of her school-
fellows who envy her. Their countenances show what
they feel. Every mark of favour manifested to this for-
tunate person is a blow on every envious heart. Dis-
content, distress, and malignity take up their abodes
in these hearts, and enter into thriving partnership.
But the beauty, the genius, the diligence, the wealth,
the parentage, the applause, are not among the divi-
dends which these partners make : these remain where
they were : and what dividends do they make t Let us
suppose that the envious would do what they would —
that is, annihilate the envieu qualities, and make the
possessor too low and contemptible to be more thought
of ; and let us suppose, too, that the successful adven-
turers succeed to what is now the first eminence — is
there no one below to pull them down ! They are soon
down, and by like means; and thus the demolition
would descend, until the seminary became too low a
place for even envy to find something to live on.

Is not this a fair example of what we continually see
in all giades and classes of social life t And is not this
passion of envy earth-bom, mischievous, and odious t
What is the remedy t Common sense and plain reason
point out the remedy. Generally speaking, every
member in society is just as much in his own place as
he is in his own skin. No one can be in another's
place. Every one has his place originally assigned to
him, and his natural condition in it, by means over
which he had no control, and in making which he had
no agency. What he will make out of himself, and of
the circumstances in which he finds himself, must de-
pend (after the irresponsible state of infancy is passed)
on his own thoughts, motives, and acts. He will find
his greatest good not in repining at the good of others
(which he can never make to be his own, and which he
cannot destroy without expecting retributive justice as
to himself), but in making his own condition as good as
he can, consistently with self-respect and peace of mind.
That which is given to others, and all that they can
lawfully acquire, is right 'msly their own. All that is
given to one's self,'^and all that he so acquireii, is in
like manner his own. If he would have no injustice
done to him by those who are below him, he must do
no injustice to those who are above' him.

EMULATION.

This has been sometimes classed with envy, but they
have nothing in common. One would feel like a culprit
in being known to be envious, but would rightly take
praise to himself in being emulous. This motive to
action was given to man for the best possible purposes;
and upon the application of it, with justifiable views,

THB PBIVATE DTTTHS OF TJFB.

, mlMT. He ii
■elfiih Mid iu.
Tj neck in the
re*t flouriih in
—lie OMue from
[t mmj be eaaily
ered himMlf to
I himielf of tlie
Mve, but raakea
,t he muat know
ion, that what-
ii heart are lure
irowth.

lis «ort of tafkt'
ing 1 Can it be
These are viola*
nd no law comes
understood and
\A seek out the
nry; and to do
!ase, and in some
a that in a semi-
j beautiful; bet
respectable; and
y her genius, and
obviously in the
.pprobation. Let
le of her school-
lances show what
rested to this for-
ious heart. Dis-
up their abodes
ring partnership,
rence, the wealth,
among the divi-
ese remain where
sy make 1 Let us
bat they would —
ies, and make the
> be more thought
1 successful adyen-
irst eminence — is
t They are soon
the demolition
)ecame too low a
to live on.
continually see
And is not this
ous, and odious t
and plain reason
speaking, every
his own place as
be in another's
ally assigned to
, by means over
ing which he had
f himself, and of
imself, must de-
nfancy is passed)
ts. He will find
e good of others
, and which he
ibutive justice as
idition as good as
id peace of mind.
11 that thev can
>wn. All that is
10 acquirec, is in
tare no injustice
^hlm, he must do

Ih envT, but thepr
Veel like a culprit
luld rightly take
I This tnovive to
lossible purposes;
Ijuitifiable views,

«nd to oommendiible ands, the advaneement of human
welfiare midnly depends. We understand it to mean,
the desire to obtain excellence in laudable pursuits.
An envious man may be supposed to say, ' Your emi-
nence distresses me; I cannot bear to see you sitting
up there; and though I have not the shadow of hope
that I can ascend to your place if you were out of it,
nevertheless I must pull you down if I can, and then
we shall stand on the same level.' An emulous man
may be supposed to sav, * I admit that you are where
you should be. You have raised yourself by fair and
just means. I have no desire to disturb you, nor to
impede your further progress. You have done me no
injustice; on the contrary, you have rendered me the
important service of showing me how one may honour-
ably rise. I shall follow your example, and endeavour
to place myself by your side. If I can get there, we
siiall have a fair, good-tempered rivalry, and we may
animate and quicken each oth'er's efforts. If you are
able to keep always in advance of me, you will make
me diligent, and enable me to excel others, if I cannot
equal you.' There seems to be nothing immoral in
this. In this view, emulation is presented in its true
and amiable character. Like everything else intrusted
to man's use, it may be, and often is, perverted. It
frequently excites very unworthy feelings. Hence it
has been confounded with envy. It is upon the prin-
ciple of emulation that diligence in schools is commonly
founded ; and it is in schools that the perversion alluded
to is frequently noticed. When several children are
required to get and recite the same lesson, there must
be a best and worst among them. That they are such
respectively, may depend on natural talent, and upon
industry, or on both. It deser,-es great consideration,
whether rewards and punishments are generally under-
stood in their true philosophy. There must be emula-
tion in schools, because there is, and ought to be, that
stimulant in all the vocations of life. If men had
not the advantage of comparing themselves with each
other, and the promptings to exertion which arise from
that comparison, this life would be very still and
stupid. But what use is to be made of this principle
in schools 1 is a question of exceeding interest.

PEACE OF MIND.

It is believed that most persons pass a large portion
of their lives in a state of inquietude and uneasiness.
Persons who have no bodily disease are anxious and
disturbed. They have some urgent want which cannot
be gratified, or which cannot be so without incurring
some evil which would be worse than the unsatisfied
want. They have the dread of some probable or poi> ■
sible evil to come, and which is the more terrible '.-i^
cause of the uncertainty of the manner and of the tiiue
in which it may come. Others are uneasy from reraen-
bering the past, in which some benefit was not secured,
some blunder made, some wrong done to themselves,
some vain gratification not obtained. There are many
persons who are habitually discontented. They find
everything goes wrong. The weather is bad; their
food is not as they would have it ; no one does anything
in the right time or right mannsr ; or that is done
which should not be, or that is omitted which should
be done. Such perso^is are always groaning, sighing,
or grumbling. They dislike everybody, and everybody
dislikes them; and particularly their abundant advice
is disliked, and their manner of giving it. There are
other persons who are of unquiet mind from more se-
rious causes. They have recollections which distress
or torment them. They are transgressors ; perhaps
criminally so. They have been able to conceal this,
but they live in the fear of disclosure; at anyrate the
fact cannot be hidden from themselves.

These are frightful instances of the agency of this
companion which every man has in his own bosom.
There are hours in every one's life when he must com-
pare the condition in which he is with that in which
ne thinks he might have been. To some persons these
we houn of drmd and terror. It ia believed that this

canie of suffering is purely of hnman origin, and tbat
prevention must b« found where the error besan. It
IS the law of the Deity that then) shall be such suffer-
ing when the guilty mortal makes it necessary to apply
that law. There are great differences in the tempera-
ment and natural dispositions of persons. It is incre-
dible that the worst-tempered persons would not make
a better whole of life, by suppressing their natural pro-
pensities, and acquiring a control over themselves, and
teaching themselves to look out for what may be plea-
sant and agreeable (passing by that which seems ill to
them), instead of doing exactly the reverse.

There are cases in life in which it is said there must
be anxiety and inquietude, from the very condition in
which men are placed : persons who sustain public
offices, persons who are placed in important trusts,
persons whose vocations are perilous, those who are
pricked by the thorn of political ambition. It is pro-
bable that such persons do experience many painful
and distressing emotions, and that they sometimes pay
dearly for their distinction; but it is demonstrable that
even such persons might have tranquillity if they had
a right frame of mind. Thero are persons who substi-
tute an aching solicitude for the reasonable discretion
and care which is all that is required in the perform-
ance of duty. There are others who greatly overvalue
tho distinctions to which they attain or aspire; and very
few of them reflect, that when they do succeed, they
must take success, espucially in popular governments,
with the accompaniments of having their worthy acta
often misunderstood and reproached, and their mis-
taken ones magnified and distorted, to suit the occa-
sions of rivals and adversaries.

The remedy for this sort of suffering is within every
one's power. Those who are poor, and in humble life,
if not in extreme poverty, may possess peace of mind;
and it is of easier acquisition by these than by those
who are involved in the duties of ofiice, and the respon-
sibility of trust, and the embarrassment of wealth.
Certainly, without this treasure, no earthly grandeur,
no promise of posthumous glory, is worth having or
seeking for. If the laws of nature and the teaching
of revelation were properly known, respected, and
obeyed, the common causes of inquietude would hardly
be known. For example, what is more common than
complaints of the weather 1 It is too hot or cold, wet or
dry. It is not nature that mistakes about the weather,
but ourselves. The movements of the winds and the
waters, and the temperament of both, proceed on some
great and universal laws far beyond human percep-
tion. That which is exacted of us to believe is, that
it is so, and to adapt ourselves to it by our experience
and ingenuity. What sort of effect would it produce
in the earth if such things were regulated by human
perception of what is best t When one has occasion
to put to use a board or stick of timber which has been
in contact with the ground for a certain length of time,
he disturbs and puts to flight families, communities,
and whole nations of living beings. Man may be much
in the same relation as to general laws (not meant for
him to comprehend) in which these insects are on the
removal of their covering.

As to all causes of inquietude arising from tho ope-
ration of nature's laws in which human agency has no
concern, they must be right, although they occasion
inconvenience to individuals. As to the acts and omis-
sions of others which affect us, some questions are to be
asked and answered before one can rightly judge of
these ; namely. What is the real cause of our com-
plaint 1 Did not the first fault arise from some aot or
omission of our own ! Do we judge reasonably of the
supposed wrong! Do we make charitable allowance
for the misapprehension which maj- aJ'ect the party
complained of ! When the inquietud'^ •» from our
own wayward and peevish disposition, ir,' l our own
misconduct, negligence, or breach of law^i -Thich we
could know if we would, the remedv lies in uecoming
wiser and better, and more reasonable in learning how
we may make of life that which it wm intended to be>

463

OBAMBlBCrS mOIMAIIOK lOB TBI rXOFLB.

^tn we uw U M w« ihould. Uk m NMOMbU
being look baok on lite own lift, Mid cumly oonsider the
eftoiei of Uf own oontentione, Ill-will, fUloNe, nnd luf-
feringa in body and mind; how manj of theie onn he
lairlr 1»t to the blnme of the Creator'* Uwi, of nnture'a
laws, or thoie of eociety, whether poaitire or impliedl
If to these he can chane but Terv few, who then but
hinwlf ia there to take blame for the residue I

We hare bem trying to ahow what peaee of mind ia
not. We have to ahow what it ia, or rather in what it
ia founded. It cornea from aober oonTiotion that the
Creator haa made Hia own lawa fur Hia own universe;
4hat He i^equirea conformity to theae lawa; that He per-
mita and enjoina the uae of what ia good and ri^ht ;
that He punishea all that ia wrong and diaobedient.
He haa truated every mortal with hia own welfare, but
haa aaaoeiated him with othera who live in the aame
truat, each one for hia own, but yet for mutual welfare.
All are to contribute their common efforta to the com-
mon good. Thoae who have the meana are to aid others
in aoquiring a knowledge of the lawa which are common
to all. If these lawa were understood and applied, how
abundtatly would peace of mind increaae in the world t
The kdioolboy would get hia lessons and obey his pre-
ceptor; the labourins-daaaea would labour diligentl;)r,
live temperately, and find a greater pleasure iu their
frugal food than the luxurioua in their festivals; for
the former live as nature ordera, the latter aa fashion
dictatea. The opulent and luxurious would learn that
the accidents of their fortune do not exempt them from
the laws of nature; that if they have affluence beyond
their reasonable and commendable wants, they are
blessed with the means of purchasing a precious name ;
they would learn that no wealth will exempt any man
from earning an appetite for his pleasures by physical
motion ; that if he is tired of being rich and happy,
he muUwork to accomplish some reasonable purpose.
His distinction is, that he may choose the means in
which he will expend to be bung, while Ovuers can only
work in some prescribed mode to live.

The middle classes, and all who are not dependently
poor, have as many and as valuable sources of enjoy-
ment as those have whom they think to be better off
than themselves. They can love and be loved ; they
can be reapected and esteemed; they can have the con-
adouaneaa of behaving well where their lot has been
oast; they have a far keener zert for natural and reason-
able pleasure than those who misuse the bounties of
accidental condition; they can I.ave peace of mind when
it is denied to those whom they deem more fortunate.
If these natural laws, which seem to be so plain and
obvious, were understood and respected, the labourers
M mind, in all their varied employments, would do
diligently, and in the best manner iu their power, that
which thev have undertaken. Men of public trust rruld
do honestly, and with a single view to their trusl.; ihat
which they have undertaken. Suppose it were nil
so, and yet troubles and disappointments come. Ihis
may be, and yet there would be peace of mind. If
every one were assured that no act, no omission of his
own, makes him suffer, that he has actc<l faithTully
and honestly, and to the best of his ability, in the
circumstances in which he was placed, he would be
entitled to have, and by the law of immutable justice
he would have, peace of mind.

HAPPINESS.

There is no word in our language more commonly
used, nor any one less defined or less understood. It
is sometimes taken to mean pleasurable sensations
derived through the aenaes; sometimes it means a
peculiar state of mind. It may be said that a pirate
who has been brought to the most perfect penitence,
and who is sensible that he haa forfeited hia life to the
demanda of justice, and that he is about to be trans-
ferred from the perplexities and sufllerings of this state
of being to endleaa felicity, ia Aappy that he ia going to
be hanged. Perhapa it ia eaaier to tell what happiness
ia not, thui what it ia. The moat perfect htdm la not
4«4

happineaa, unlaaa one haa sometUnc to do. Health
and rUket do not make one happy. Theae aocidenta of
being rather excite ciavinm for el^)ojnnent. They are
meana, not enda. A rich man can ride but one horae,
or ait but in one coach, or eat but one dinner, or Uve
but in one houae, at a time. Peraona in moderate cir-
cumatancea can do the same.

Health, richea, peissr, and disNiiettoii, do not make
happineaa. Diatinction ia troubleaome: it haa more
puna than pleaaurea; it b jealoua, envioua, and distrost-
ral. Power does not make one hiqipy; it demands the
most busy watchfulness to keep it. If lost, its abaence
ia often followed by painful Buffering, and the poaaesaion
of it ia alwaya accompanied with uie fear of^loains it.
Riches are sometimes regarded aa meana of enabling
one to live m ele(|ant luxury, and even in voluptuous
enjoyment. This is no way to be happy; the appetites
soon become satiated; the stomach wears out; the aenses
are palled; diaeasvs come : the body may be racked on
a velvet couch as well as on a straw-bed. ' Is there,
then, anv such thine as happiness? There must be
such a thing, or the Taws of nature, which provide for
physical, intellectual, and moral being, are false and
deceitful, and the gift of revelation is a fable. If there
be such a thing as happiness, it will be found in that
knowledge of, and obedience to, the laws of nature which
make health. It will be found in obeying the propensity
to action, to some continuous, useful end; that is, in
pursuing reasonably some one of the many vocations
m society which tend to secure one's own self-respect
and peace of mind, and which tend also to the common
good. But there may be disappointments, ill-luck, and
causes of mortification and sorrow. These, we appre-
hend, do not seriously disturb any well-regulated mind,
when there is a cunaciousness that no reasonable fore-
sight or prudence would have discerned and prevented
the cause. Perfect happiness in this world, it must
ever be remembered, is not to be expected : the only
happiness that we can really attain consists in a certain
contented tranquillity of mind under all the shocks
and changes of this mortal life. There is a point
called the ha'ffiy medium; and this should be an aim
in all human arrangements. Be moderate iu all things.
For example, to take no amusement is bad, for it de-
prives the mind of needful rest and recreation ; so
likewise it is bad to be altogether given up to amuse-
ment, for then all serious objects are lost sight of. The
true plan is to take amusement in moderation. Some
minds ' - never awakened to a taste for poetry, fiction,
the ii 9 arts, and music, and they thus lose much

plensu ch others enjoy : again, there are some iu

whom . ..kure has implanted, and use cultivated, so
strong a predilection for these things, that it becomes
a vice. To be very much in society is sure to dete-
riorate the human character, making it frivolous, and
incapacitatine it for taking abstract and elevated views:
on the other hand, a perfmtly solitary life weakens the
mind, lays it open to odd fancies and eccentricities, if
not to hypochondria, and ends in some inatances by
altogether throwing it from its balance. The medium
is here also found alone salutary. To be excessively
gay, in a world where so many evils lurk around our
every step, and so many onerous things call for our
attention, is wrong: so is it to be always serious, seeing
that the world sJso contains the materials of much
happiness. What is proper is, that we ahould be ready
to rejoice and mourn m moderation on the appropriate
occasions. Finally, one may feel assured that if he
abide by these moderate desires, and so uae hia time us
to be reasonably busy to some good purpoae, and so
conduct himself aa to be justly entitled to his own
approbation, and if he live in the habitual assurance
that there is an omnipresent, omniacient, and merciful
Judge of moral, accountable, and immortal man, he
will certainly be happy.

NoTB.— The matter of this iheet has been extracted, with
a few altentions, from the Moral ClaM-Book of Mr William
Sullivan, published several years ago at Boston, United State*.

PUBLIC AND SOCIAL DUTIES OF Hf».

Tbk BNMdinc article derotod to thii lubjoct embnnad
the dutiee wnioh one owei to bimielf m a ntioaal
being. The i>reMnt ii not leM importaat in itc cha-
ncter, being intended to point out thoee dutiee which
we ace required to perform with reipeot to our varioua
public and domeitio relatione. We begin with our

DUTIBS AS SUBJKCn.

Erenr driliMd nation ii goremed by lome neoies
of authority, for the purpoie of preecrring order in
(ooiety. Some goremmenti are good, others are bad;
but it does not fkll within our urorinoe to point out
where the ruling authority is iiyurious, or. where it is
most adrantageous to the people. According to a law
of universal application, erery independent nation is
understood to have the undoubted right to model its
goremment according to its own fancy, genius, or ne-
cessities, provided that, in the execution of its plans, it
docs not wantonly iigure its neighbours. Directing our
attention to our own country, with whidi we have here
alone to do, we find, as soon as reason dawns upon
us in youth, that we are members of a great and en-
lightened community. We find ouraelres subject to
laws which were framed long before we were bom, and
that we must act in a manner not to please our own
caprice, but according to the arrangements which have
been instituted fpr the benefit of society at large. But
if we thus discover that we are trammelled by certain
local restrictions, not very agreeable perhaps to the
wudness of our untamed nature, we likewise find that
we possess a ^preat many compensating privilt^s.
While yet openmg our eyes to the light, we enter into
the ei\jo^ment of all the transcendent privileges of Bri-
tish subjects, and come within the powerful protection
of the laws as fully as the oldest and most honoured in
the land. It will be perceived that this is a boon of
incalculable value. For us armies have fought and
bled; for us, in past times, hosts of martyrs and patriots
have contended; for us the wisest statesmen and
legislators have transacted negotiations securing civU
liberty; for us the people who have gone before us
have established a variety «f the most excellent, the
most beneficent institutions. All these things we enjoy
without having been put to the smallest trouble. All
that we are odled on to give in return, as soon as
enMuacipated from the inexperience and ignorance of
childhood, is obedience to the lawe.

A cheerful obedience to the laws is therefore our chief

C' *io duty. Possibly some of our laws, from having
framed for a former state of society, or in order to
meet particular exi^ncies, may not now be very judi-
cious m their provisions; yet that forms no solid reason
why we should break through them. It is always safer
to obey a bad law than to oppose it by violence. Unhap-
pily for some nations, they seem to have no accurate idea
of the value of obedience to the laws. When they find
themselves aggrieved bv oppressive state measures, they
are exceedingly apt to brMJL into tumults, and take uip
arms against the officers of their sovemments. This u
a veiy shortsighted policy, as the nistoiy of all nations
proves ; for the people are always sure to suffer far
more bv the coenave measures adopted to restrain them,
than the^ would have done by submitting to the evil
they ori|pnally compluned of. It is the boast and glory
of Britam— and long may it be so — that its people Enow
how to respect the laws, even while they consider them
to be ii\jurio\u, and how to correct them by quiet and
orderly procedure. In this lies the important, secret
of their national greatness, their wealth, their public
liberty. The advantages arising out of a scrupulous
obedience to the laws, consist, in the first place, of social
Older and quietude, by which the rights of property are
No, 80,

respected, ooromeroe and trade permittad to flowish,
and the sacred inviolability of the person piaservad. The
results of turbulence and civil commotion are— poverty,
ruin to property, insecurity of the parsoa, daetnwtion
of commerce and trade, and at length militaiy (Wiesh
lion and barbarism. Every intelligent man, thamore,
in this country yields not only a tare subi^seion, but
a becoming respect to the laws, as wtU aa to tha various
institutions established by their anthori^.

Perfect obedience both to the letter and the nirit of
the laws does not, however, imply that we shofud not
examine whether the^ are in every reqwct anawosab]*
to the present condition of society, nor keep us from
resorting to Icpal means to have them oorre«}tcd»,or
altoj^ether resomded. The constitution ptdpts out how
this IS to be done. It is illegal to conspire sewatly to
overthrow the law. All measures calculated to iraprof e
our social condition must be conducted openly anid
honourably. The means put into our hands, by tike
constitution for improving the law are very powerful,
if wielded with discretion. The people have the aip-
pointment of the men who constitute the most influen-
tial branch of the legislature; if thoy do not i^jtoini
individuals who will meet their views with re^rd to
correcting or abolishing laws, they have themsdves to
blame: the oenstitution confers upon them a libwty
of choice. It besidee gives them the right to present
petitions to the legislature, eitiier individually, or in
bodies, praying in re^ectfUl terms for the amendment
or abolition of any law which is deemed oppressive or
antiquated. This right gives a vast addition to th«
power of the people. It is of much greater value tluMl
one would at first be inclined to suppose, and is Iut
finitely preferable to the use of violence. The ri^ht of
petition implies the right of meeting publicly to discuss
the prt^riety of petitioning. This practice of meeting
together excites the public mind to renewed efibrts in
the cause it undertakes. The speeches of the orators
are circulated and commented upon by the newspapers
all over the country. One meetmg gives rise to others,
men*s minds are enlightened and warmed, and t)ie
public opinion acquires by degrees an amount of mora^
force, any resistance to which would be useless. It is
not without reason, therefore, that the people of this
country set so hiih.a value on the right to assemble for
the discuuion oi public afiiurs, and place it in the first
rank of their constitutional prerogatives.

Besides yielding obedience to the existing laws, we
are under a collateral obligation to be loyal to the tort,
reign who rules over us. Loyalty is hence another of
our chief pubUc duties. There is some difiTereiice of
opinion with regard to what extent loyaltjjr ought to 1^
carried. It appears to us that this is a simple mtitigi.
A power to protect the nation from foreign insult, and
tojpreserve the internal peace of the country, must 09
/odyrsd iomeuhere. It is found to be most convenient
to lodge it in the hands of one person, under proper
restrictions. In Great Britain, as will be seen in our
history of the constitution of that country (No. 62^, i{
has been placed in the po ss ession of a hereditary pnnce
or king. This person is entitled our ruler <a; sovweup ;
we are termed his subjects. Loyalty rignifies a fiaeutT;
and willingness in serving the king, so that he may be
enabled both to protect the nation nom outiintfd harm,
and to preserve order in society, through the agenqr of
the laws, or, failing them, through the appUoation of
force. Seeing that the sovereign is pi^veaied by the
constitution from infrbging upon the riffits of the sub-
ject, through the exercise of his power,lt is discovered
that loyalty is rewarded in Vha ■lomfdrt we ei\jo;^; or,
to i3e another expreasio9, self-interest, alone, if no
nobler sentiment interfere, would lead us to afford

466 »

OHAMBBBm htfobicatior vob tbb piofle.

Miiituee to the king in tiM Meoatloa of hif Ugh uid
importont truit. Thi* Miiftuioe U demonftntod not
only by penonal mnim U naoMMiyt but by mpcot.
LoTklty m»y be if*Mf Mihanced by eitceta for tbb
priTAte rirtues »nd conduct of the MTereign. When
■0 influenced, it if certkinly both an amiable and com-
mendable feeling, and can nerer, but in ill-regulated
riiindit degenerate into Mrrile prostration.

In the iJnited States of America, in which the exe-
eiitite is lodged in an eleetiTe president, the people call
themstltH atiiens, not subjects | and what we mean
fty loyalty to the soTereign, they term duty to the com-
monwealth. It is obvious that there is extremely little
essential dilAtence pnuHmilg between these phrMes,
trhatever then may be in j^Hng. The subjects of
Great Britain an as ftee as any people in the clTilised
World I much freer, indeed, than the inhabitants of
France, who disclaim the appellation of tulgtett. These
Atplanfttiont are perhaps useftil in admonishing us to
Mware hoW we TOk ouraeWes about mere words and
lounds. Our duty clearly consists in appieoiating the
numerous blessings we enjoy in our public and pnTate
r^latlAhl, by whatoTer name these relations may be
ttA\M. We are each inditidually fractional parts of a
gtfeat nation, whose honour we are called on to sustain
through good and Intd report. Let us remember that
individual tirtue can alone promote social happiness,
and that social happiness and peace fbrm the basis of
political independetice. No man can be a good and
irespectable subject or citiaeti Who is a bad son, a bad
huiband, a bod father, or a bad matter. The nation is
but a comtMsition of a great many fitmilies, knit toge-
ther by kindred sentiments and mutual wants; and how
ten it be great, or worthy of esteem, if its component
]^arts exhibit in their constitution the worst of Tiees I

Loyalty to the sorereigb leads to a subordinate^ but
important duty. It induces us to respect inferior con-
fctituted authorities. All judges, magistrates, or other
dvil flinetionaries Stand in the light of representatives
Of the tovereign. The kins; canbot be everywhere at
Mice, and he deputes these individuals to attend to the
Irants of his subjects, and to keep good order in society.
To show contempt for any court of justice, o^ for any
magittrate, it therefore equivalent to showiiig cotttempt
for the king himself, at well as fbr the laWs, and is justly
Imnlshabie. to ihoW our respect both for the laws and
the sovereign, we must respect the decisions of judges
hnd magistrates, and sup^rt their due execution oy
Aur personal influence. Neverthelesl it is in every
one's powe^ when they feel themselves aggrieved by
these decisions, to appeal to higher authorities for re-
dress; such being the only means allowable by the
feonstittttion in op|>osing the legal power Of the estab-
lished courts of eivil and criminal jurisprudence.

A becoitting obedience to the laws, and a Mherous
respect fbr the supreme and inferior-constituted autho-
Hties, produces the agreeable result of good order and
Mace ita societj. Every one is not acquainted with the
oifAiimit ramifieationi of the common and ttatute law;
indeed it Would be impossible for us to acquire a correct
knowledge of these things unless we devoted a lifetime
io the study. This difficulty in ao^niring a knowledge
of the laws has sometime! given hse to a low sort of
jeeritag at our etcellent constitution, und it has been
represented as cruel to compel an obedience to laws
Which fbw can have an opportunity of learning. But
thil is a fallacy into which we hnpe bur young readers
will toot fkU. The adminittration of the ootnmon law,
wuth as that Which applies to iuheritahce, debtor and
Aeditor, and civil rignls genetally, rests with a bodr
ef educated men, Or lawyers, whose le^ices may at all
times be commanded. Besides, we may, if we please,
purchast digests of theie law* for our private amuse-
ment and instruction. The other description of law
which it made applicable to the preservation of the
peace of society, any one dax understand, if he have
the ability to know right from wront. We sunIv all
knbw that it is illegal and criminal to steal, to rob, to
ifintder, to break Into our neighbours* houses, or to 1
466

attack their persons by violence. It ean reqniiv no
readingof acts of Parliament to understand this. Com>

Son sense here serves «s instead of legal knowledge.*
Ur duty in thik ihattet ii ntf eatily deflned. We
mutt ever bear in mind that one of the principal acta
of duty which the conttitution enforces, is the abstain-
ing from meddling violently with the persons and pro-
perty of our fellow-subjeets. In thia weU<kreiiihita4
tealm, the person of evenr man, womasi, and «uld ii
inviolable from private attaok. It is a crime almost
punishable with the highest penalty of the lawto strika
any one, either fh>m an idea that they have injured «%
or through the influence of pkision and pn^udiee. If
we consider that we have been injured, we must apply
to the law or the majristerial authorities for redress.
We are only permittea to use pbysieal force when in
absolute danger of losing our Uvea or property by vio<
lenee, then being then no time to apply to the law for
protection. It would be gratifying if these rtgttlationi
wen mon generally attended to thab they leem to be.
There an many young men who, fVom what they are
pleased to term a lovo of fun, but Which can be no other
sentiment than a love of mitlchief, or grots ignorance,
assail the persons of individuals of both aete*, to their

nt discomfort, and sometimes seriout ibiury. Now
deariy illegal to do so, and is generally punithed
by the infliction of severe penalties by the civil magis-
trate, though keldom marked with that ignominy whieh
it deserves. Inasmuch as it is held that icnoranee of
the law does not excuse its infraction, so is it nekoned
an invalid apolocy for the commission of crime to say
that you wen under the influence of intoxication at thO
time. Drunkenness is very properly ettOemed an aggra-
vation, not a palliation, <» the oflbttoe.

OONnUCI AT PCBUO lUnilfCM.

The right of meeting together publicly to diseUM
matters connected with oulr social condition, being to
invaluable a prerogative, it it right and flttins that all
young men entering into the butr tcents of me should
make themeelvei well acquiunted with the rulet which
have been established by general eonient fbr the pfop^r
conducting of such atsemblaiM.

According to usage, a publle meeting is not eontti-
tuted until a person be appointed to prwide, Or to ' take
the chailr.' Without this ceremony, the meetitag is a
tumultuaty assembly, or a mob. The flnt moVOment
is therefbre the appointment of a chiUrman. Thit fbni-
tionaty, on taking his seat, is fbr the time tupreme
in the meeting. Hit chief duty is the presOirvation of
order. He allows ohly one to npeak at a time, giving
the preference to him who hat fltet caught his eye in
the act of rising, and giving every speaker k iUt hear-
ing. Another of his chief dutiet it the preveiiting of
speaken fh>m wandering from the snbject under dii.
eussion; and if they do, he mutt remind them to keep
to the point. In the execution of these atad other
duties he el^ms the suppoH of the meeting, atad all
an bound to yield to hit reasonable dictates, aud heli)
to maintain his authority. In proportion to the firm-
nett, yet mildness of mann«r» of the chairman, io is
the meeting likely to be well oi- ill-eondttcted.

At some public meetings there is no set plaii of ope-
rations, and a general diseucision on the tubjecti whidi
an brought foiward takes plaee; but at Ul mtelingt
for specifio important objects, then it a pteviout ar-
MUigement among a certain number of iiidividualt to
bring ibrwiurd pattieular points to be spoken upon. In
thit case speaJten an prepatod, and the btttlnest at-
Bumel the form of the Proposal and Carrying of a set of
resolutions or motions. The ibllewing is the routine
of procedun;— The chairman having stated the object
fbr which the meeting hat been culed,, an individual

* At the Mune time we wUUngljr allow that then it room iu
gnat Improvement in the disSemUattoti of a knowledge of the
statute Uw.perUcuUHy^to! a reeent date. R is likely thst
tome plan will soon be carried into exeentlon to render the
aoqnlranent of such knowledge mon speedjr and certain.

TjmUO AND BOCIAL DXTTIES OF LIFE.

mh rwrain no
and thu. Coni>
ptl knowledn.*
f defined. We
I prinoipkl Mta
, u the abiUin<
terioni and pio-
wiU^tegttlMad
Wh Mid S^ld U
» crime klnteel
tbelawtortrik*
b»T« ii^nnd «%
d pnjudiet. If
, we muit apply
itiei for redreu.
A foree when in
property by Tio«
fy to ihe \Mt for
htM rtgUlAiioni
they teem to b«.
n whM they tt«
1 can be no other
groii ignor*nee>
th tfeHH, to th«it
lit ihiuiy. No#
neraliy pdnithed
r the elril mtgit<
t ignominy whl«h
that icnoranee of
M ia it reckoned
a of cHtne to lay
itoziektion M tht
itemed im aggMh

ibliely to dii«titt
ndition, being to
td fitting tbM all
n«a of lue thottld
[h the rultt which
entfbrthttptop^r

ng it not d>nftti-

e8ide,(trt«*take

the meeting ii 4

e flmt moHmtnt

nn»n. ThitfUtti<

lie time tupteme

B jiTCetrtatlon of

at a time, gMb^

lidght hii tye in

iker h (Mr htaT'

he prerenting of

ibject undtt dii-

nd them to kwj^

theie and other

mteting, and all

ietatea, and hel{k

tien to th6 firm-

ehtdrmaii, 16 ii

idttcted.

let plaA of ope-
to tubiectt irhidi
at UL mtetlngt
I a nietioui ar>
f ihdlTidualt to
>oken upon. In
;h« btttineet at-
,^gof aiet of
ie Ihe routine
kt«d the object
ta inditldual

; Uiere U room for

I knowledge of the

It U likely tbftt

lion to render the

nd certain.

lUpi fisrward and propoiM a reiolntion for the adoption
of the meeting. Whether he enforoee the propriety of
carrying luoh a raaolution by a ipeech on its merite, or
toply propound! the matter, he muit be ueonded by
another indiridual (with or without a tpeech), other-
wiM the meeting cannot entertain hii reiolution for a
moment. If duly leconded, then the motion ii fairly
tabled. It ii before the meeting. After a reaolution
U propoeed and leconded, it ii the duty of the chairman
to aik the meetinc if it be carried or not; if agreed to
t^ a general accCunation, or by an obrioui minority,
he pronounce! the word ' carried,' which letilet the
point, and the bniincM proceedi by the bringing forward
of the other reiolutioni in the lame manner. It ii un-
uiual for any member of a meeting to oppoie thepaai-
ing of a reaoiution, unleH he hare a better to ofier in
iti ttead. If he hare, and if he wiihei 'to take the
lenae of the meeting;* on the subject, he hai a right to
be heard. Yet thia can only be permitted, prorided the
meeting ba« been called in genenl termi. For instance,
if the inhabitants of a town or district generally be
called, in order to eoruHer of the propriety of such and
such mea.wres, in that case every one is entitled to
rive his opinion, and to oppose the formal resolutions
Drought forward. But if the meeting be described by
advertisement to consist of those inhabitants or others
only who agree in the propriety of such and such mea-
aures, then no one is entitled to intrude himself on the
deliberations who professes opinions contraiy to the
spirit and end of the meeting. An inattention to this
exceedingly delicate point often creates serious heart-
burnings and disturbances; and on that account, com-
mittees who call public meetings ought to be very par-
ticular in the terms of their announcements.

As much regularity is necessary in respect of opposi-
tion to motions as in their proposal and carrying. The
counter-motion of an opponent is called an amendment,
which, to be available, must also be seconded. If not
seconded, it drops; but the opposer may place his pro-
test on record; that is to say, if the discussion be in
a corporation, or other meeting where books of the
minutes or transactions are kept. On being seconded,
and discussed by those who wish to speak upon the sub-
ject, the matter is brought to the vote by the chairman,
but not until both the mover and amender have re-
plied, if they please to do so. After they have spoken,
not another word can be uttered, and the vote is taken,
a majority canying. If the votes be equal in number,
the casting-vote of the chairman carries. There is an-
other way of suppressing a resolution, which is by
•moving the previous question.' This signifies, to
return to the point at which the business of the meeting
Stood previous to the tabling of the motion; or means,
in other words, to do nothing on the subject. But this
must also be seconded, and put to the vote in opposition
either to the motion or amendment, or to both. The
routine is generally to place it in opposition to both; if
carried, the matter is settled; if not carried, the order
is next to place the motion and amendment against
each other, and to take the vote.

Sudi is an outline of the mode of procedure at public
meetings, and it is particularly desirable that attention
should M diown to the preservation of regularity. At
all public meetings there is a strong tendency ' to go
out of order.' By this expression it is meant that
speakers are under a constant liability to wander from
tne point under discussion. They are apt to digress
into other subjects, and confuse their auditors; and
these, gettbg unpatient, are equally apt to interrupt
them, so that a smgle irrelevant observation may m-
quently lead to hours of idle debate or colloquy, or
* speakmg to order,' as it is termed, and thus the har-
mony of the assembly be destroyed. Those who attend
such meetings should therefore have a regard for the
following reflations: — If they npeak, thev should keep
closely to the subject in hand. If they be listeners, they
should preserve a strict silence. It is ungentlemanly,
not to say disorderly, to utter any sound or make any
olbservation on what a speaker is saying. The speaker

must on no account be intempted, to long at lie ke^
to order; and if not in order, it it the churman's duty
to check him. It is likewise disorderly to speak mora
than once, except in replying before the vote is put,
or except it be the rule of the assembly to permit it.
Sometimes persons who have spoken rise again to speak
as to * a matter of form.' This is allowable; but in
speaking as to form, the merits of the case should not
be introduced. On this, however, as on OTery other

Eoint, there is a perpetual tendency to go out of order;
ence the absolute necessity for appointing a chairman
well acquainted with the forms of public deliberation,
courteous, yet impartial, and who nas the strength of
mind to insist on order being preserved.

At all our public assemblages a certain degree of
courtesv is used both among speakers and listeners.
On an individual rising to speak, he addresses himself
politely to the chairman, and the chairman in return
politely mentions the name of the speaker, by mhit£k
means the audience is made acquainted with the gentle-
man who is about to address them. When the discus-
sions of the meeting are over, the chairman closes the
business with a few observations, and then dissolves the
assembly by leaving the chair. When any dispute
arises in the course of the business of the meeting upon
points of form, it is customary to appeal to the usagei
of the House of Commons for an example to be followed.

DDTIia AS KLSCTOna.

There are duties of another nature which we may be
called on to perform in our character of citizens. We
are invested with the high and solemn trust of electing
our representatives in Parliament, as well as represen-
tatives in our municipal institutions. In the execution
of our duty as electors, we are bound to divest ourselves
of all factious or personal considerations. We have
certainly to consult our own good in making a choice
of a representative, but it is only as flowing from the
good of the whole community. We must hence act
entirely without passion or prejudice. Let us examine
the previous habits of life, public conduct, and avcwed
sentiments of candidates, and calmly consider whether
they are such as we can approve of, or as being con-
sistent with the general welfare of the people. Wc
should also recollect that we exercise the trust of elec-
tors for many who do not possess that privilege. A
larse proportion of the community consists of women
and children, persons in a humble condition, the sick,
and the helpless. These look to us for protection from
wrong, and it is our duty to afford it to them. If we
therefore act with levity and imprudence in appointing
men who, from their conduct and character, are unfitted
to exercise the important function of public represen-
tatives, we in more ways than one commit a crime
against society, and prove ourselves unworthy of pos-
sessing the valuable prerogatives with which we have
been invested by the constitution.

In our capacity as citizens we are frequently called
upon to elect representatives in different municipal
bodies; such as civic managers of the city in whidi wO
reside, managers of local trusts — general, political, and
religious. There is often much heat at such elections ;
a pettjjr factious spirit frequently governs the choice
which IS made : sometimes the meanest passions of our
nature are exhibited during the contest. The observa-
iiotis we have made on our duties as electors generally,
apply here with peculiar force. As those who present
themselves as candidates live amongst us, we can never
find any difficulty in estimating their character and
qualifications. But we must take care not to be borne
away bv private feelings; we must not give our vote
simplv because the candidate is an acqufuntance. A
consideration for what is he»t for the publie interett
should in every case govern us; and we should not be
afraid to let these our sentiments be known, for they
can give no honourable man offence. But even after
we have made choice of the individual whom we intend
to support, from a conscientious conviction that his
election would prove beneficial to the whole community,

467

OHAMSIBM nrrOBMAfflOH rOB TBI PIOFLI.

w* ought not undttir to inflttonM tho mflagM e/ otktn.
Th«7 mftv bo oonTUHMd tUt anolhor owdi d ato po*.
MMM hishor qtuUfloBtioM for, ud a npotior eUim to,
tho ofBoo: Md it riionld noror bo loot iight of that
their opinion ii ontitlcd to oqukl raqioct with our own.
Wo ought not, thorefore, by iiitimid«tion, or by tho ox-
oreiM^ snj undue influence, wliioh, from our position
in loeioty, we mmr poMon over othert, to ooeroe them
into the rapport of an individual to whom they may bf
oonieientiouily oppoied. Were tlii* rule to be univer-
■ally adopted, there would be an end of thoee diiguiting
ezUbitioM by which too many election oonteita are dii-
graoed. We may, indeed, ledtimately endeavour to
convince our fellow-eleoton of the erroneouineii of their
opinion, but we have no right to aik them to act in
oppoeition to it.

In all caiee of election of members of civic corpora-
tion!, and raoh-like bodiee, the chief merit in candi-
datei, after that of good and reipectable character, ii
■oundncii of judgment, and after that, activity of
habiti. The power of fine ipealunf;, or eloquence, if
not required in raoh a functionary, and uould be
eiteemtti very lightly. Tliat which ii required it a
power of thinking coolly, an integrity of purpoee, and
a willingneM ana ability in taking a ihare of the bur-
deniome dutieo to be performed. Our qualificationi
as electors perhapa render us liable to be ourselves
elected. In the event, therefore, of being called for-
ward by our fellow-oitisens to fill the honourable situa-
tion of their repreeentative, it is our duty to sacrifice
perhaps our own feeling and a portion of our time in
the public service, provided we conscientiously consider
ourselves qualified for the task, and that our health
and private circumstances permit it. The principal
question we have to put to ourselves, when we are so
brought forward, is, ' Have we sufiicient time to spare
to attend the various meetings — to sit and deliberate
in the numerous committees — to have our minds fre-
quently occupied with public afiairsi' If we deceive
ourselves in answering this important question, we
WTon^ society, and give ourselves cause for much after
disquietude. Is it, or not, the proper way for every
one who is worthy of this trust, calmly, deliberately,
and to the best of his knowledge and belief, to do those
acts whidi will best preserve for his own use the beau-
tiful fabric of our political institutions I If he per-
ceives and rejoices m the good which he and others
derive from it, will he not best perform his duties to
those who come after him, to use it, and not abuse it,
that ihtj may have the like good t Little suggestions
of selfishness, rivalry, and pettv local interests, and,
most of all, perverted and mischievous ambition, are
the blocks over which citizens are ant to stumble and
fall, in the otherwise luminous and clear path in which
they are permitted to move.

DUTIES AS JUB0B8.

The laws under which we live give us the invaluable
privilege of trial by juir; in other words, we are tried
for the commission of offences by a body of men chosen
indiscriminately, as nearly as convenient, from the class
of society in whidi we have moved. By such a con-
siderate regulation there can be little risk of individual
oppression, provided those who compose juries do their
duty. It is therefore incumbent on citizens who are
liable to serve in juries, to make themselves aoqudnted
with what is understood to be their duty when so called
upon. It requires no learning to flilfil the character of
a juror. It requires no more than a coolness of think-
ing, and a mind above being carried away by prejudices
or feelings. The iuror is to remember that it is the
jury which is the judge in the case, not the judges who
■it on the bench. Keeping this in view, it is one of the
diief qualities requisite in a jury to maintain its pro-
per dignity and honour inviolate, nevertheless with all
Murtesy, and to act with firmness in the execution of
its important function. Besides deliberating dispassion-
ately on the evidence presented, it is the duty of the
Juror to be totally regardlese of eveij consideration but
468

thai ef Jutiee. He h neither to leMid the rank of tb«
culprit nor of the ii^nied party. In a court of jurisr
prudenea all man sink to an equality. It is also tb«
duty of the Juror, after fbrming his oonKientious opU
nion, not to be coereed, or flattered, or spoken into a
diffluent opinion. He is invested with a solemn trust,
and that trust he must preserve with sempulous care,
as consonant with the best interests of society.

DUTIM AS NKIOHBODBS.

Besides the dutiM which we have to perform aa
members of a great nation, w^ have duties of a similar
nature to perform as inhabitants of a town, district, or
neighbournood, and in relation to which we sometimes
receive the appellation of citisens. Everv person be-
lonss to a neighbourhood, whioh is both local and
socUl. Even those who have removed into new coun-
tries, and who dwell in solitary abodes, do not lose the
sentiment of neighbourhood. The nearest person to
them is a neighbour, though separated by long distance.
And when this sentiment cannot be preservM in fact,
it may t>e in thought, and by that means it usually is
so. Perhaps the laet impressions that leave the heart
of one who has wandered into far distant regions, are
those made in his earlv davs, in his native home. In
general, aa every one lives in a neighbourhood more or
less dense, he can promote his own happiness, and that
of those around mm, by observing a becoming moral
conduct. He has a right to eigoT life, and to use all
things which he has, to that end; but he has not a right
to any enjoyment which necessarily disturbs that of
others. Peace, tranauillity, and security within one's
own walls, is the nuun purpose of life. No one has a
right to interfere in these things but by order of the

Eublic law. A neighbour, theiifore. who so conducts
imself, and those means of pleasure which he cdm-
mands, as to vex, harass, and disturb those who are
necessarily witliin tisht, hearing, &c. commits an
offence against moralUy. It often happens to be the
pleasure of one who dwells in a dense neighbourhood
to keep one or more animals, whose habUual noises
disturb those who necessarily dwell within hearing, in
the hours allotted to repose, and frequently when per-
sons are visited bv sickness, and when any noise is dit-
tressing. Now, whatever the ri|^d law of the land may
say in such cases, the law of morality says that the
simering party has an unquestionable right to remore
his trouUe, if the proprietor of the cause of such nui-
sance will not, on request, remove it himself. A more
peaceable way would be, to have it removed hj order
of the public magistrate. Many of such petty nuisances
ought to be removable on summary verbal appli<Mion
to the proper authorities, and not m the slow, written,
and prmted process in whioh the movements of ordi-
narr law are commonly made.

The moral duties of neighbourhood extend to all
things which minister to the common comfort, conve-
nience, and security. Eacit one of a neighbourhood is
bound to make his own dwelling-place a^ agreeable and
pleasant to those around him as he reasonably can.
Each one is morally held to uphold and sustain a good
name for his own little community. He is therefore
to Join, with a lUberal and manly feeling, in all the im-

Srovements which tend to please and adorn. Such
kings, even if they occasion aome expenditure, are
•ouroes of self-satisfaction ; and one oomes at last to take
an honourable pride in hearing his street, his village,
his town or city, commended by observers.

There is another sort of neighbourhood which is
founded in social int e rco ur se, and in tiie interchange of
visiting and hospitality. As the world now is, this it
commonly rwjlated by artificial and somewhat unna-
tural nilee. It is often ostentatious, luxurious, and des-
titute of aU feelings and thoughts in which well-trained
moral minds can take pleasure. A profuse and volup-
tuous entertainment, comprisinff food little adapted to
promote health and vigour, and in quantity sufficient
for ten times the numW, that rather look at than con-
sume it, is nn unittisf^ing way of being happy in social

ithtnuikoftlM
k court of JarU*
It U »Im tho
mielaiitloui opU
ir ipokcn into »
L a loloinn truitt
■eropuloui ou*i
todoty.

I to perform m
utiei of a limilar
town, district, or
Ich we wmotiinei
Etwv penon be-
both local and
1 into new conn-
I, do not loM the
teantst perion to
, by long dittance.
preeerrra in fact,
leani it uiuallj ii
it leare the heart
•tant region!, are
native home. In
bourhood more or
ippincM, and that
t becoming moral
fe, and to uie all
he hai not a right
r difturbe that of
nrity within one's
fe. No one has a
at by order of the
ywho so conducts
te which he ctJm-
lub those who are
&c. commits an
happens to be the
nse neighbourhood
se habitual noises
within hearing, in
[uently when per-
.jt any noise is dis-
,w of the land may
lity says that the
le right to remoTe
ise of such nui-
himself. A more
removed by order
|ch petty nuisances
rerbal application
the slow, written,
lovements of ordi-

_ extend to all
.„ comfort, conve-
I neighbourhood is
i afi agreeable and
I reasonably can.
nd Busti^ a good
He is therefore
Ing, in all the im-
Ind adorn. Such
expenditure, are
nes at last to take
itireet, his village,
|ven«

purhood which is
he interchange of
Ud now is, this is
1 somewhat unna-
kxurious, and de«-
frhidiwell-tnuned
Vofuse and volup-
i little adapted to
luantity sufficient
I look at than con-

Ik Wpy *'^ '*'^'''

WhUO AND SOCIAL DtTIBB Ot UtIL

iBtoferaiM. There are modes of maintaining suoh in*
terooorse, which are innocent, pleasing, and dutUtal.
Mankind ai« fitted for such. The interehanm of friendly
visits, for conversation, music, and rationaTamusement,
with such things as may be used without sniWng, or
impairing healtn, is that kind of nelghbouAood (in
such relations) which is permitted and enioined. We
have, however, little reason to think that intimacies of
this sort are likely to meet with such eonsidcmtioB as
would induce the further extension of them.

Every person, in general, is a member of some kind
of society or association. Some persons belong to many.
These are intended for some usenil porpoee. Every one
who is such member has some duties to perform. He
owes some proper part of his time, some proper contri-
butions, to the common object, and has an interest in
the prosperity of the deeisn. All these institutions do
some good, and some of them eminent good, in helping
on the great purpose of social life, which fa general im-
provement. Of thb nature are public charities, educa-
tional institutions, libraries, agricultural societies, and
those for suppressing intemperance and immorality. No
well-dimosed citisen can conscientiously abstidn trom
giving his idd and support to such objects. It is each
one's duty to tnr to leave the world a little better than
he found it. No one can say these are matters which
do not concern him. Suppoee every one should say so,
and had said so from the beginning, society would still
be made up of barbarians. Every good that is done
in any community affiscts, directly or indirectly, every
member of it. The law of example, of imitation, of
doinc as others do, has a most ^rvadins and astonish-
ing mfiuence. Eveiy community may do likened to a
vessel full of water; no o"<e drop in it can be moved
without affecting every other drop.

DOTlB IN OUR DOmsnO RELATIONS.

Marriage, — This institution is ureeable to a law of
nature, and is an ordinance of the Creator. There are
profligates who have doubted this ; but they have ex-
nibitM no reason on their side. It is obvious that man
fa not only a gregarious, but a pairing animal. Mar-
riage fa consutent with the finest of his feelings — the
most noble of bu faculties. It began when man began.
It fa ordered to perpetuate the succession of the human
family. It is ordered for the whole duration of adult
age. It fa man's peculiar privilege in thfa; it connects
hun with generations whion are gone, with that which
fa passing awav, and with those which a>4 to come. The
memory and the ashes of the dead are precious to him,
and no other animal has that sentiment. He alone con-
templates that hfa own memory will be held in honour,
and that the place of his earthly quiet will be sacred.
He only fa enabled to conceive that moral and physical
wrong will bear hfa own stamp in the character and in
tiie inune of those that follow niro; he only knows that
a good name may be an honourable inheritance. These
are the sentiments which sprine from the beneficent
gift of marriage. However much one mav mfaunder-
stand or abuse thfa gift, nature, ever faithfiil to her
trust, forces these sentiments on the heart.

Marriage fa recognised as a contract of a bindins
nature in all civilisM nations. By some it fa considered,
from its solemnity, to be of a sacred character; by
others it fa deemed only a civil bond of connection. All,
however, agree in holdins it to be an irrevocable con-
tract. The laws of the land, those of nature, and the
Divine law,diKlose the sentiments, the feeling, and the
awful sense of duty with which this undertaking should
be r^uded. Yet it is frequently entered into from
motives highly reprehensible, and sometimes with
shocking thoughtlessness. It is from such causes that
we too frequently see thfa saoied union, which should
be the true source of the highest human haroiness, be-
come that inexhaustible rountain from which both
parties are daily and hourly compelled to drink, and
Irom the same cup, the bitterest waters.

In a ^reat number of instances, marriage is con-
tracted with exceedingly little regard to the qualities of

the mind on either side, pariienlariy on the side of the
man. If one oould penetrate the ear of an anamonrad
youth, some good might come firoiA such sunastioiia as
theee :— Do you know what will «om« of that anngt.
mani which you are about to makat Are you about
to tie yourself by bands, absolutolr indissoluble while
vott live, to a mortal who has feeUogs, wishes, wants^
hopee, and fears, which must become yours, and a part
of your very self; or which you must resisti control,
or contend witht Do you know that pain, sufMng,
and sorrow, originating in either, must be borne by
both I Are you aware that whatsoever of error, fblly,
or crime, mav be chargeable to either of you, or to any
who may spring from your contract, will be your com-
mon burthen and shame ; and that from theee you can
relieve yourself nowhere but in the jprave 1 Or, do you
know that this attractive being will be your kind friend;
your counsellor; the welcome soother of your carse
and anxieties ; the generous and charitable judge of
your infirmities; the inspirer of honourable ambnion;

your fellow-labourer in joint intereets ; the ornament
of your life; the gracious, considerate, faithftil, gentle
companion, who wul make vour own virtuous home the
place to which you refer all earthly happiness 1 Who,
It mav be asked, that is ' in love' has leisure or in-
clination to think of such tr\iei as these 1

There is no reason why the pauion of love should
be wrapped up in mystery, nor any why the mind
should be stained in considerbg its nature. It would
prevent much and complicated misery in the world if
all young persons understood it truly. There are in
every human being seeds, each one of which may be
made to germinate, and may be so cultivated as to pro-
duce the most odious vices, or the most serene and
heavenlv virtues. There is in eveiy human heart a
fund of kindness, tenderness, and affection, which makes
itself known to be there in due time. It demands to
be applied. This is the trying and perilous moment in
youtnful life. There is some one, somewhere, who will
take that fund, and give back its full equivalent. The
external senses and the heart are in seuch of that one.
Happy will it be for the searcher if he will take reason
as a monitor to keep the senses and heart in order.
But reason is commonly regarded not as a kind and
faithful friend, whose duty it fa to whisper, ' B^n
nothing of which vou have not well considered the end,'
but as a withered scowling matron, who, being utterly
wiA to the impulses of youth, denies that there ought
^' be any. If there has been no preparation for thfa

vii-i-tful period; if the mind has not lieen enriched with
the teachings of rational prudence; if the eye has not
been taught to distinguisn between the real and tiio
fictitious; if the ear has not learned to discriminate the
meaning of sounds; if life as a whole, if the conse-
quences of irrevocable deeds be not thought of, there
is peril; and the pure drop from the fountain may
flow into any sea but that of happiness. In seeking for
that being who fa to be a companion during' life, one
grievous failing must be avoided. Young men fire-
quently amuse themselves by playing with the feelinn
of voung women. They visit them often, they walk
with them, they pay them divers attentions, and after
giving them an idea that they are attached to them,
they either leave them, or, what is worse, never come
to an explanation of their sentiments. Thfa fa to act
the character of a dangler, a character truly infamous.
Young men cannot, indeed, be too cautious in the at-
tentions which they bestow on unmarried females, who
on their part should be equally guarded in not encou-
raging the addresses of any individuala whom they
would not choose to marry.

According to the present state of society, one of the
influential counteracting elements to marriage is, or
ought to be, a high degree of prudence. No one ought
to many who cannot foresee that he will be able to sup-
port the additional expenses of » wife and fiunily, and
at tiie same time fulfil hfa other neceesary obligations.
By good management, these additional charges are not
great, but they amount to something, and he is worse

469

oHAmnra nfOBiunov iok vm raonj.

thMimiBfld«lwke4MtMtpfoTid«a|»taMlh«a. Wa
MM of baliaf tbat •▼tijr iadiuteioiu, MUvt, muI now
nan will find no Mriou obftaola in iUt iMpoot. U
ii ft«ni UloDONt lova of companv, and intomporanoo,
not ftom •implt tzpandituro on family nwwaariM and
eorafortfc that rain and povtrtjr in tlio roanriad Ufa an
produoM. The dfwd of onoountoring tlia ozponMa of a

famil/t tliougli acting at a lalutary oaack on Impnidant
aamagoit i* frtauanlljr produotira of many groM Tiooa,
tanding to tho iiQuijr botli of indiTiduala andof loeiatj,

Cflibao/, aapteialljr whan cinumatanoaa would parmlt
aaniaga, it not ratpactabla ; it ia conilderad aUn to
ragrancT. Ma who marrioa and wttlea down a< a
houMholdar, maoti with th« approbation of tha world.
Why ia thiat it may ba aakad. BaoauN in marrving
wa gira a guarantaa to iociaty for our good bahariour.
It ia not to ba doubtad that a young, well-aducatad, in<
duatrioui ooupla, who are linoaraly and affaotionatalv
attached, on a iol>ar ezamination and conTiction of each
othar*! worth and auitabUitr to oaoh othar, mar ba
happy with meant far ihort of the faahionable atandard.
Pratupiing that auch a couple are wite enough to take
Ufa for the real and lubatantial good that it can produce
— «nd at a whole, It would do them great iiguttioa to
•appoae that they could not find that good in a tmalli
aimple, cheerful, tranquil mantion — it would be doing
tho friendt of tuoh a couple the like i^juttice to tuppoee
that they could not riait them, and be tatiafied to tea
tham happy through luch meant.

According to the utaget of lociety, it it tha outtom
for the man to propoia marriage, and for the female
to refute or accept the offer. There ought to be a per-
fect freedom of the will in both partiet. To impoia
anr ipeciet of conitraint on either party it moit mil-
chlerout; it would be a groM violation of our mott taored
pririleget. Both partiet, therefore, ought freely to think
for themieWet, however much ther may leek the adTice
of thote who are inclined to afl'ord them ^ountel.

In treating of thit lubject, it may be of terrioa to
offer a few ipecial advicet to young women. Our flrtt
raoommendation it, tiiat thev ought to be in no hatte
to accept a iorer. Let them know him a tufficiant time
to Judge of hie qualitiet of mind, temper, habiti, &c.
before they allow themtelvet to be inveigled into a
marriage with him. Far better for them to remain
aingie, than heedleitly incur the ritk of being miterable
dunng the remainder of their livet. In general, young
women are much too ansiout to involve themaelvea in
thia retpect. The following obiervationt on tho inju-
zioui effectt of making marriage the lole object of a
young woman't thoughtt, occur in a popular work by
Min Farrar, and are well worth attention : —

' Some one haa aaid, that <* matrimony it with women
the great butineta of life, whereat with men it it only
an incident" — an important one, to be ture, but onlr
one among many to which their attention it directed,
and often kept entirely out of view during leveral
yaart of tlteir early life. Now thia difference givei the
other aez a great advantage over you ; and tha bait
way to equaliaa your lot, and become at wite aa they
are, it to think at little about it aa they do.

The lata your mind dwelli upon loven and matri-
mony, the mora agreeable and profitable will be your
intercouno with gentlemen. If you regud men at
intellectual beinga, who have aooeia to certain aourcet
of knowledge of which you are deprived, and aaek to
derive all the benefit you can from tlkeir peculiar
attainmenta and ezperienoe — if you talk to them at
one rational being thould with another, and never
ramind them that you are candidatea for matrimony
—you will enjoy far more than you can by regarding
tham under that one atpect of poitibla future admiren
and loverii. When that it the ruling and abaorbing
thought, yoa have not the proper ute of your Caoultieti
your mauuert are conttrained and awkward, you are
eaaily embarraated, and made to aay what ia iU-judged,
ailly, and out of place; and you defeat your owa riawa
by appearing to a great ditad vantage.
However tecret you may be iu thaw ^wcttlatiwn,

if TOW aw aaMfaaaUy ♦Matog al thaw, and iMMfclif-
unaua impaitaMa to tha awiialntaaca of gentlanaa.
it wiU neat oaHainlr ahow itaalf In voui naanara aaj
oenvanatioo, and wQl batrajr a waakaaia that ia kali
ia eapacial oontampt by tha itiongar tax.

Siaaa tha caatoau of toaiaty have awarded to naa
tha privilege of making tha fint advance towaidt ma>
trlmony, it ia tha Muaat way for woman ta leave tha
matter entirely in hi» handt. 8ha thould be la adu>
cated at to eontidar that tha great and of aait t anaa .
preparation for otemUy— may ba aquaUy attained in
married or tingle life, and that bo union but tha mott.
perfect one it at all daalrable. ICatrimomr ahould ba
ooniidered aa an incident in life, which, it it come at
all, mutt coma without any aontrivanco of yourt) and
therefore you may tafaly put atida all thoughta of it
till tome one foroet tha tut|)eot upon your notioa by
profetiiont of a partiaular intereat ut tou.

Lively, ingenuout, oonvenable, and charming Uttla
girli, are often tpoilod into dull, baahful, tilent young
ladiM, and all baoaoaa thair hfiiida are fitll of nontauM
about beaux and lovora. They uve a thoutand thoughta
and feelinga whieh they would ba aahamed to coniott,
though not aahamed to entertain; and their preooou-
pation with a tubiect which they had batter let entirely
alona, preventt their being tha anaaable and rational
companiona of the gentlemen of their acquaintance
which they were deiigned to be.

Oirlt get into all aorta of acrapaa by thit undue
preoocupaUon of mind; they miaconttrua the com-
moneit attentiont into marka of particular regard, and
thua nouriah a fancy for a ponon who haa never once
thought of them but aa an agreaaUa acquaintance.
They loie the enjoyment of a party Jif certain bea«x
are not there whom they expected to meet; they
become jealoui of their beit fnendt if the beaux are
there, and do not talk to them aa mutt at they with;
every trifle ia magnified into tomething of importance
—a fruitful touroa of miteir— and thmgi of real im-
portance are niwlected for onimeraa. And all thia era-
tuitoua painttafing defeata it* own andt I Tha labour
it all in vain; tuch girli are not tha mott popular; and
thote who teem never to have thought about matri-
mony at all, are tought and preferred before them.'
We may add the advice, that young women thould not
contider it a aeriout miafortuna even if never married :
there it nothing diireputable, while there may ba much
happinaM, in the condition <^an old smi.

BUSBAHD iHD WIFJC

Manriaga having at length takan place between two
partiet who feel a reaaonable hope of being ha{>py
together for life, each haa entered on a condition
requiring tha axercite of particular dutiea. Thete we
ihall endeavour to narrate, eommancing with advicet

To Huibandi.—* 1. Alwayt regard your wifit aa jrour
equal; treat her with kindneai, retpect, and attention;
and never addreat her with tha ^pearaaca of an air of
authority, at if aha were, at aoma miiguidad hutbandt
appear to ngard thair wivaa, * mere houiekeeptr.

2. Never mteriere in her domettio oonaemt, tuch at
hiring tervantt, and tha like.

8. Alwayt keep her pro^ly auppliad with money
for fumithing your table in a atyla proportioned to
your meant, and for tha purahaae of drett, and what-
ever other artiolea aha may require, auitable to her tta-
tion in life.

4. Cheerfully and proaaptly oomply with all her rea-
aonable requettt and wiahea.

6. Never be ao u^juat aa to loae your temper toward
her, in eontaquenoe of indiffnant cookery, or irregu-
larity in the houra of mealt, or any other miamanage-
ment oautad by her aervanta; knowing tho difficulty of
making many of them do their duty.

6. If aha nave prudence and good aenae, contult her
in all great operationt involving the ritk of veiy teriout
injury in cate of failure. Many a man haa bean ret-
cued from ruin by the wita countala of hit wife ; and
many » (whA imbmi tm moit aaiioualy injured

'fryi^-rv^

FDBUo mo loout wmm or un.

U t Jlf tar Um NiMtlo* of tk* advlM of
Ml wUb, itapUly hufaui, if £• foUowtd il, 1m wonU
to NfHdtd M iMnpMkadI A fciubMd «» Mualy
iMMt w w l » ft ooanMlUr bmi* damhr ialwMlwi u
hi* mUkn thM M* vifc.

f. IfdiitewNdorwBbftRMMdinjroareirouButaiMW,
Mpaiwiaftt* ymu dtttfttloii to kor wiUi oftndour, that
■ko naijr botr yonr dUBeultiM in miad la Itar ozpaa>
dtlmw. Womon lomotiinM, btliavini tlioir kumnda*
eiNumttwiow IxtUr tku tkojr itftfly mOi diikuno
mpBov wkiek eMpot bo mli ftCbrdod, and wkiok, if
t)uj KBOw tko Nol tituatioo of Ikai* kiukftodi' ftflUn,
tk«r wottid ilkriiik from ospondiiig.

8. NoTor on ftny MMoaat okido w rabvko you wiii
ia ooniMajri ikould iko niftko nny milUka in kiitorjr,
nognpkj, mmmMr, or indood on any otkor lubioot.
Tkora kN, I am ponuadod. manjr wiTtt of luok kaon
fNlingi and kigk tpirito (and luok wiT«* doMrro to
bo troatod wiik tko utmoot dolioaqr), tkat tkty would
ratkor toooiTo a mtom and bittor Molding in {triTato,
tkan a tobuko in oompanj, oaloulatod to diiplay igno-
lanco or fbllr, or to impaii tkom in tkoir own opimoni
or in tkat of otliort.

Ta ir<«M.— 1. Alwan loooivo Tour kuiband witk a
okoorflil ooantonanoo— Maying notking undono to rondor
komo ameablo— and gratofolly noiprooato kit kind-
noM and attontion.

9. Btudy to gratiiy kii inoUnationi in renrd to food
and oooktry; in tko manogomant of tko fannij) hi your
droto, mannoft, and doportmont.

I. NoTtr attempt to rule, or appoar to rule, your
kutband. Buok oonduot degradof kuibandi — and wiToi
cannot do otkerwiN tkan partako largely in tko degra-
dation of tkeir kuibandi.

4. In everytking reaeonablo oomply witk kii wiikei
witk okeorftilnoM and promptitude— and OTeui aa far
aa potaible. antioipato tkem.

5. Aroid all altoroationa or argnmenta leading to ill-
kumour, and more eapeoially Wore company. Few
tkin|^ are more diiguiting tkan tbe altoroationa of tke
married when in tke oompanv of frienda or atrangera.

6. NoTor attompt to interfere in hia buaineia, unleia
ke aak vour adrice or eounael; and never attompt to
control nim in the management of it.

7. NoTor confide to goiaipa any of the failinn or
imperfectiona of your kuiband, nor any of thoie little
diinrencea that occaaionally ariie in the married atate.
If you do, you may reat aaaured that, however atrong
tke injunotiona of lecrecy on the one hand, or the pledge
on tke otker, they will in a dav or two become the com-
mon talk of the neighbourhood.

8. Tnr to cultivato your mind, ao as, ahould ^our
kuiband be intolligent and well informed, you may join
in rational conToraation witk him and hia friendi.

9. Regard roiulng aa light and trifling, that may
produce eren a momentary breach of harmony, or the
■lighteat uneaay aeniation.

10. If your kuiband he in buiineaa, alwaya, in your
oxpenditurea, bear in mind the trying Ticiiiitudea to
which trade and commerce are lubject; and do not ex-
poae younelf to the reproach, ahould he experience one
of them, of having unnecenarily expended money of
which you and your oflbpring may afterwardi be in want.

II. While you carefully ahun, in providing for your
Ikmily, the Soylla of meannen and paraimony, avoid
equaUy the Charybdia of extravagance.

12. If you be diapoaed to economiae, I beaeech you
not to extend your economy to the wagea you pay to
aeamatreaaea or waaherwomen, who, particularly the
latter, are too frequently ground to the earth by the
inadequacy of tke wagea tnev receive. Economiae, if you
will, in ahawla, bonneta, and handkerchiefi ; but never,
by exacting labour from tke poor without adequate
eompenaation, incur the dire anathemaa pronounced in
the Soripturea agidnat the oppreaaoia of the ^r.

To bM Fortiu. — 1. Should difibrencea ariie between
kuiband and wife, the oonteat ousht not to be, aa it
Unfortunately too frequently ia, who riiall diaplay the
. moat apMl, but wko iBaU make tke Ant adTanccf , which

ougkt to be met mora tkan kalf waj. Tkera ia aoareely
a more prolifio aouroa of uakappinaaa in tke married
atato tkan tkia ijtirit, tke iMitiiMtfi ofl^wlng of odioua

paide and daatitutioa of fiMUni.

3. ParkaM tke whole ait of hapitinMa in tka nani^i
itato migkt be compriaaid into two brief roaaim^^
- Bmt and forbear )» and " Lot the kuabaad tiMt ki«
wife, aad tka wife ket kuiband, witk aa muok raanaat
and atteatioa aa ke would a atiaagt lady, wd »• a
atianga gentleman.*'

8. I truat muok oaution ia learotly nMimiy agaiiMl
flirtationa, well oaloulatod to excite unoaainaaa, aoiiblfi
and auapieionB in tka keart of tka kiuband or wifa ti
tke party wko indulgea in tkem, aad to give oocaaion
to the oenaorioua to make aiuiitor obaervationa { for il
ia unfbrtunatolv too true, tkat tke auapioion of miaooBt
duet often produoaa AiUy aa muck aoandal and evU ••
tke reality.

It ia a good rale of laaaon and oommon lania, tkal
we ikottld not only be, but appear to be, lorupuloualjF
oorraot in eiur conduct. And be it obiervad, that, kowo
ever pure and innocent tke purpoaea of tke partiaa may
bo at tke commencement, flirtation too often leada to
diaaatroua reaulta. It breaka down aome of tke guarda
tkat kedge round innooence. Tke partiea in thaae caaet
are not in^)tly oompared to tke moth fluttering around
a iiskted eandle, unaware of tbe impending danger. _ It
flnuly buma ita wingi, and ii thui mutilated for lifi.
"He tkat lovetk the danger, ihaii periik tkereln.^
** Lead ui not into temptation " ii a wiio prayer; and
while we pray not to be " led into tomptotion," we meal
aiauredly ought not to lead ounolvea into it. I know
tkeie remarka will be ohareed to the account of pra«
dory ; but, at tke riak of tnat ckarge, I cannot witk*
kola tkem.

4. Avoid all reference to paat difltorencea of opinioa,
or aubjeota of altorcation, that have at a former day
exoitod uneaaineaa. Rememl>er the old itory of tko
blackbird and the thruih. » I iuiiit it waa a blackbird.''
- But I iniiit it waa a thruah," ka.

Tke preceding rulei, if aa doiely followed aa human
imperfection will allow, can hardly fail to lecure hap«
pineii. And ahould only one out of everv ten readera
profit by them, I ihall be richlv paid for their concoction.
I cannot conclude thii eiiay better than by adding the
following admirable advices of Julia de Roubigni to
her daughter, ihortly previoui to her death : —

" Sweetneia of temper, aflection to a kuiband, and
attention to hii intereiti, conititute the dutiea of a wiiSi,
and form the baaii of matrimonial felicity. Theao ara^
indeed, the toxto from which every rule for attoining
thii felicity ii drawn. The charms of beauty, and tka
brilliancy of wit, though they may captivate in the mia-
treii,will not long delight in the wife. They will ihortea
even their own transitory reign, if, ai I have icon in
many wives, they shine more for the attraction of every-
body else than of their husbands. Let the pleasing
of that one person he a thought never absent from
your conduct. If he love you as you would wish ho
should, ke would bleed at heart ahould he auppoao
it for a moment withdrawn; if he do Vtot, his pride
will lupply the place of love, and hii resentment
that of lunering.

Never consider a trifle what mav tend to please him.
The greater articles of duty he will set down as hii due:
but the lesser attentions he will mark aa favoun; and
truit me, for I have experienced it, there is no feeling
more delightful to one's self than that of turning tkei4
little things to so precioui a uie.

Above all, let a wife beware of communicating to
others any want of duty or tenderneu she may think
she haa perceived in her husband. Thia untwists at
once those delicate cords which preserve the unity of
the marriage engagement. Ita aacrednesa is broken
for ever if third parties are made witneiiea of its fail-
ings or umpires of its disputes." '*

* The above excellent admonitions are tram an American
work called tbe ' rtailososby of Common-Sense,' by Mr Carey.

471

WiMttit aMLATmmmn,
Tha mniags »M» it tiM ftmMdkUoB of om of tka
Botl iMrad Md importaat InalUniioBi in MsUljr— tlMt
of A fMnUv. A fluniljr U ft UttU eoBmoawMlUi, Jotnlly
gOTOTDod by tk« pMVBtaf but ttndtr tb« mora fMofaU
manliamklp and dlnolloii of tho hutbaad aad ntkor,
who U raonJIjr and kgftlljr Iho kmd ^ Iha Aohm. To
tho fftlbor Uto chUdran luktamlly look for piotMtlon,

■ttboUtoncOiMlviookOSMiipU.Mid •noouraoiMBt' Th«
fiOJbor, tkorafora, bm a Mrloui obligfttion io porfonn
in liio propor nuhag of ki« cbUdnn. Ho io bound to
oduontt tlmn aooording to hit womm^ to nipport thorn
till th«7 MO nblo to doptnd on thomttlTtt, nud to hnvo
thtm tMight n bmintti, or put in wmo othtr fair w»jr
of gaining an honott liToUhood. It it alto inoumbout
upon parantt to aroid all untoomly partialititt towardt
tho diWtrent monibort of thoir family. Tho tyttoro of
IhTourititm, howoTor, it a miatako mto whioh indivi-
dual! with tho bott iutontiout, and of tho moot amiablo
di^potitiont, an Tory apt to I'all. It it loldom, indood,
that all tho ohildran ot tho tamo parontt art pottiittd
of tho tamo doaUitr, twootnttt of tompor, and thoto
othor qualitiot whioli ara bott oaloulatod to attract and
riTtt uto afiiKtiont of thoto who haro oooation to bt
broaght matt intimatoly into contact with thorn ; and
it it thortfor* Ttry natural for parontt to booomt mort
poouliarly attaeMd to thoto who apptar to poittit
thtto qualititt in tho highttt dogroe. Thit partiality,
howeror, it Tory froqutntly ontortaintd towardt thoio
who an loatt dttorrutg of It, but who haTO tho cunning
to mako thomttlTtt appear in tho ejrot of thoir parontt
more amiablo than thoir brothon and tittort. But
whatoTor may bo tho foundation of it, it it an act of
noH ii\juttioo to tho othor moniben of tho family ; for
thty art all equally entitled to parental tendemett and
afftction. Betidet, thli partial treatment bat a natural
tendency to engender ttrife and auimotity amons the
children themtelToi. The pet of the parentt will iMdom

EroTo the favourite of thote memben of tht family who
are been uiguitly ntglected ; and who will therefore
naturally feel ditpottd to retent their ill • uiage upon
the uiuiper of their righti, at well at to murmur and
complain againit the ii\juitice ittelf. The children, on
the other hand« ara bound to obey their parauti, and to
exert themtelrot to make them nappy.

Parantt ara tometimei grievoutnr dittreited in con-
tequence of the bad behaTiour of their children. Their
rtatonablo hopet ara ditappointed, their bott feelingi
ara tortured. An idle, un^teful, dittolute eon, it tuoh
a complicated caura of tuffering, at may, if anything
may, lead one to murmur at the order of thingi. 1 1 may
bo admitted that tuch a parant it veiy likeo' to break
out with complaintt againit the world. Thit tuffering,
howoTor keen and bitmg it may be, it not a natural,
but a moral evil. Thera it a moral wrong tomewhera.
It it in the parant himralf 1 Hat he watched the be-
ginning of error, and drawn hit child off from the de-
loending planet But perhapt the downward coune
hat been long begun upon, and art and deceit have
made tuch ptogrett that the child hat been able to
elude parantal inquiry. Thit can hardly happen with a
watchful parant while hit child it under hit own roof.
Perhapt the downward coune hat been begun upon
when a child it at a dittant tchool, collese, or In a place
of buiinett, praparing for manhood. If a parant hat
placed a chUd where he cannot luperintend hiiu, or with
thote who do not undertake to do thit, or who will not
if they do, the parant it not excuied becaute othen ara
in fault. A child who it tent away from home it, at
the world it now constituted, always sent into some
hazard. The haiard it, when least, that the preceptor,
guardian, and matter may be deceived. The leductiont
may be tuch at to plunge a boy into ruin, even befora
thoee who see him daily, and who mean to do their
duty, have the leatt intimation of it.

Evilt, tuch as ara hera alluded to, may be in some
meatura unavoidable in the present imperfect condition
of society; itill a parent ought to do aU in hit power to
472 - ^ • ' .

ky ImpiMtllM goMl iMMIiin kk eUMiM.
It womM be wdl, fcr iMiaMit, If hAtn of teiUlea
wowld endeavmir to give their ia«» a taale for tooh •
J«dietovt eoorto of r ea d i ng at wmM load them from
the contemplation of vleteat olf)eeti of paraalt. If they
do to, and put them in a right biat, they may dtpend
OB thim acquiring a great deal mora utonil knowledge
after they leave school than they could possibly have
learned thera. Nearly all tha men who have distin-
guished themtelvee in the world ara found to have
acquired their knowledge through private detoltoty
ttudy after leaving their elaattt ; and many, in their
autobiographiet, trace their good fortune to the tatto
for readlug given them by their parentt.

A fiunily of children usually consists of the two sexes.
Thera ara brothon and sisten. The Intercnurso which
takes place between these parties ouglu to be of the
meet friendly kind. They thould strive, by mutual
assistance and advice, to make each othor happy. In
many inttanctt, thote ralationt make • very great mit-
take at to the real good of life, in not cultivating a
cordial and affictionate friendthip with each other. In
early life they ara apt to be in each other't way, and to
have irreconcilable wantt; thut they venr toon fall into
alienations. They cannot, however, shake off the laws
of natun. They must have an interest in each other
whether they will or not, and it will etientially promote
their mutual welfara to have a kind and graciout one.
The common causes of their differanoes ara exceedingly
insignificant, and often contemptible. They will see
the day when they will so think of them. The time
presees hard upon them when they will need counsel,
support, and some one to cara for them in a manner
which uoue but brothen and sisten can do. When all
has gone on well from the cradle upwards among such
ralativet, they become to each other not only the mott
useful friends, but the most agreeable companions.
They are the natural confidants, when it would do folly
to trust any one whose sympathy and solicitude may
change, lirothers and sisten, who ara tbus bound
together by affection, sometimes haxard the connection
by volunteering friendly, but very unwelcome, commen-
tariee and advice. This it a very delicate matter.
Giving unasked advice on any occasion requirei very
gnat discration. If one sees that his brother it blun-
deriuK, thera ara many modes of so approaching him
as to lead hiiii to find that he needs advice, and m put-
ting him iu search of it. If thera be a right under-
standing, he will go when he is sure of having the best
and the sincerest. To assume a dictatorial authority
over a brother or sister, is to inflict a wound on self-
love which is not readily forgiven. We have alraady
noticed the value of civility and politeneu between such
near connections; and we add, tnat sincerity and truth
ara nowhera mora profitable and neoeesaiy. ' Fami-
liarity breeds contempt' is a true saying, and is very
apt to find an application of its truth not only in the
interoourse of brothen and sisten, but in that among
mora distant ralations. We beg to warn all classes of
rolations who fraq^uently meet together, acainst using
too much familiarity, against using too littM ceremony,
against taking liberties with eaui other. Let them
preserve tows^s one another the mott retpectful, yet
friendly terms, if they wish to avoid falling into dine-
rancet. Let them ramember that the quamls of rala-
tions ara almost irreconcilable, and that even when
forgiven, and in a great measura forgotten, they leave
very disagreeable feelingt among all parties.

DUTIKS OF MASTEBS AND SEBVANTS.

From the earlieet aget down to the pretent time
thera have been differant classes of society. As elie-
whera explained, this necessarily arises from the very
order of society. The well-established and very proper
right of inheritance, and the ability which some mem-
ben of society have to acquira, and which othen have
not, the dimrance of education, and other obvious
causes, necessarily produce these distinctions. Who
among the varioua classes it the most contented and

PUBLIC AND tOOUL &UTIBB OF Uf&

nUtcUMiw.'

ala ferioeh •
Ml Umib frMB
fMit. Ifthay
■ift]r dwMMl
I knowiMg*

lO k«?« dUiin-
fouMd to lukv*
T»to dMollonr
UMiy, In UMtr
t* to tka tMt*

f tha two Msoi.
Mionuno wkloh
>t to bo of tho
iTO, by rautu«l
bor bAppy. In
Tory gnot mU-
t eultWoting »
tock otbor. In
rr'i wojr, ond to

JMon till Into
off tho Uwi
It in oftch otbor
intially promoto
ad gTMioua one.
are oaoeodingly
Tboy will mo
wni. Tbo time
il need oouniel,
m in » niMincr
, do. When all
idi ninong tueh
)t only the moit
>le companiont.
t would be folly
•oUcitude may
uro thui bound
1 the connection
IconiOf common-
ielioate matter,
n requirei very
trother ii bluu-
)proachiuc him
ice, and (S put-
a right under-
having the belt
|torial authority
wound on lelf-
have already
between luch
ity and truth

,. *Fami-

|ng, and ii very
lot only in the
in that among
all claMoi of
, against using
[ittle ceremony,
tr. Let them
respectful, yet
lling into dine-
lanels of rela-
jat even when
[ten, they leave
iei.

present time
lety. As else-
|from the very
ftd very propeJr
some mem-
others have
■other obvious
Ictions. Who
itented and

UVtJ i» quite anothar matter. Then muat be
to iorvo, mmI some to bo served. They are mutually
dspoadent. Wo hoar great complainte, sometimee ftom
maetere with roganl to their servants, and sometimes
from servants with regard to their masters or employen.
This oonnoetion is regarded as one of tho miseries of
life I yet it is not neoessarlly so. If the connection
produce relation, thero mui>t bo error somewhere. Wo
shall first speak of tbo dntiee of master* :-

It Is the duty of masters to cultivate tho Mteem and
affection of those whom ciitumstances have plaeed
under them. Servants have tho same sort of bones,
masolos, heads, wid hearts, tho same self-love, and tho
same sensibilities, as their employers. They may not
be eo refUied, still they have nghts to bo maintained,
and must not bo tyrannised over merely because they
are in an inferior condition. They have as good a right
to be happy as those above them. If they behave with
propriety, and do their duty, thev should m spared when
sick, advised and relieved when in trouble^ and be made
as comfortable as circumstances will permic. The com-
mands given- to them should bo plmn, dear, uniform,
and not contradictory or capricious. They are not to
bo sneored at, or commanded with virulence and re-
proach, but mildly, and rather bv request. They are
also to bo treated with uniform civility and kindness;
but every approach to familiarity with them should be
avoided, if respect on both sidss is to be preserved. It
is always best to let servants know what is their duty,
and WMt is eapectod of them. Much mischief is some-
timee created bv not attending to this rule.

Tho duties of servants to masten are equally clear.
Their entering into servitude is a contract which they
enngo to iUlnl. They are bound to execute all reason-
able and proper orders in the line of service in which
they are engaged. But besides this, they would con-
sult their interests in being generally obliging and will-
ing to assist In any kind of exigency. A seemmg wish to
please an employer goes a great way to compensate for
defleienciee in ability. A civil, obliging turn, is iitdeed
one of the chief virtues in a servant, and is certain to
secure the affection of masters and mistresses. A strict
attention to an employer's interest, regularity of habits,
and perfect integnty both in speech and action, form
the principal qualifications of a servant. There is usu-
ally much less actual dishonesty among servants than
a regardlessness of their matters' interents and time.
This is more the case with domestic than other servants.
This claM of persons, who are chiefly females, are very
apt to encroach on the time of their employers for their
own pleasure and convenience. If sent an errand, they
wiU spend a great deal of more time in executing it
than is necessary. It is an idle love of gossipping which
generally produces this great failing among servants,
and it is our duty hero to admonish them of its impro-
priety. Their time belongs to their master, and it is
dishonest to use it for their own purposes, unless by
permission. Speaking with regard to persons in ser-
vice generally, we are sorry to notice that there is a
tendency to reduce the terms of contract betwixt em-
ployers and employed to one of a purely meroenaiy
nature — so much work for so much money. There ap-
pear* to be a growing inclination to drop all kindlinew
of intercourse Itetwixt the two classes. The consequence
is, that man^ msaters feel perfectly indifferent with
respect to givmg employment to those who have long
served them. The injury is, however, mutual; for
when servants know that the^ are only valued in pro-
portion to the amount of their actual labour, and that
they will bo paid off without regret, they care little for
a master's interest. There can bo no question as to
who bJBgan this improper system. It originated in ser-
vants and workmen endeavouring to establish by vio-
lence and intimidation a certain amount of wages for
their labour, and which the state of society could not
warrant. Wo earnestly trust that it is not yet too late
to restore the ancient bond of sympathy betwixt every
doKription of employers and employed. Individual
and social benefit would be the result.

DOIT or TBtmriM to opwiltm.
There Is a duty of an importMt naturo wkldi »•
have to perform towards sodaty; m4 that Is, wo aul
ITMSS to oMfsffoss. We k»ve eaok been OMtowed with
re^eoa to guide us, and hands to work; why,
ukiess prostrated with bodily disease, or some
infirmity, should we think of leaning upon others for
rapport or assistance! It would not bo deaiiablo to
see meir shut up their hearts against oaeh other, and
each stand In the panoply of hla own r Alutians,
determined against every irlendly sppenl wkatsotrer.
It Is possible, however, to be not alt<c*tkor a ehurl,
and yet to take oar* lest we bo temptea Into an exer-
tion of benevolence dangerous to ourselves, while It is
of little advantage to our friends. Notwithsta n di n g
the many tie* which connect a man with soeioty, ho
neverthefes* bear* largely Imprinted on his fbrohoad
the original doom, that ho must chiefly be dependent
on his own labour for sabslstenoe. It U founa by all
men of experience that In so flw as one trusts to his
own exertions solsly, he will bo apt to flonrlsh; and
in so iar a* he leans and depends upon other*, he will
be the reverse. But there are many who do not recog-
nise this princlpls. They trust only partially to them-
selves, and are always poking about after largo favonrs
(torn friends. We find them asking loans of mon^,
asking others to be surety for them, Mkin| aequaint-
ances to Interfere to get places for them. If tMy ask
for nothinc else, they intrude upon their friends to seek
advice. Neither physically nor morally do theysoem
able to exer^ hemselves for their own behoof. This Is
so contemptibiti a mode of living, that it cannot be too
severely reprehended. Those who depend on others can
never succeed In life. In whatever manner they may b*
assisted, they can never become front-rank men in
society. We would earnestly impress upon the young
tho propriety of depending as little as possible upon
prospects of advantages from others, all of whom hay*
enough to do with themselves. It is obviously the duty
of every one to think and act for himself as soon as ho
attains manhood, and neither be burtheniome on rela-
tives nor troublesome to acquaintances. Tho accept-
ance of a trifling favour from an acquaintance always
lays us under an obligation, which is sometimes difflcult
to remove. If the acquaintance ever need similar
favour*, we feel bound to grant them ; and perhaps he
estimates the original favour so highly, that he thinks
we cannot do enough to serve him. In this way hun-
dreds of men are ruined. We would say, as a general
maxim, accept no favours, unless upon a principle of
common courtesy. If you employ others to exocuto n
piece of work, take care to pay them fidthfiilly and
promptly, and lie under no obligation to them, other-
wise you may be called upon, when you least expect It,
to make payment a hundredfold. Be liberal, afihble,
and kind; but, knowing that you cannot do more in-
jury to society than by greatly injuring yourself, exer-
cise a just caution in giving way to the solicitations of
your friends. Never be too ready to convince yourself
that it is right to involve yourself largely, in order to
help any person into a particular station in society:
rather let him begin at the bottom, and he will bo sil
the better fitted for his place when he reaches it, by
having fought his way up through the lower stages.

HAKINO A WILL.

Much distress among families is often produced by
individuals who have property to bequeath, not making
a will or testament. Why sudi indi^duals do not make
their wills it is difficult to explain. Porhap* it arises
from carelessness and a spirit of procrastination, or a
want of resolution in men U make up their minds with
respect to how they would distributo their property at
their decease. Some may indeed bo so foolish as to
imagine that the making of their will would hasten the
approach of death. From whatever cause it proceeds,
it u a highly blameable failing. It is the duty of everpr
person possessing property, wnether engaged in busi-

478

oHAimnM moBiuTioir tos vai reopuL

new or othenriae, to nukke • will, and dMcribo in lomo
ipecies of dooamn* kow k« would wiiit his affidn to
MMTMgodintlMavantofliitdjiitf. Thencwt^lr
tn CMW in wbioh man of piopenr would not wiin
tlioir rniiiiirnf to bo diatnbutod la Mty other w»jr
tliM M tke Uw would diotato; yet it ii » mivk of »
woIl^rcguUtod mind to loara » will dMoriptiTo of tbe
QMuii to bo punitod in tho Motnion to, end muMgo-
aunt of, their property and conoeme. To do m kt
liMt would often mto » great deal of trouble and wxne
•ipeaee, and be a preTontiTO of litigation among reia-
tiene. Wo therefore muit iniiit that the making of a
will if a Moed duty which ought to bo performed, and
performed without prooraetinatbn. In the midit q£ life
we are in death; no one knowi but in an hour hence
he may bo no more. W% beieech fathen of familiei,
and othen limilarly placed — thoie eren who may have
property but to the value of a few pounde— to loee no
time in executing their will. By leaTing to much ai a
letter lubacribed ny their name, to be opened after their
daceaie, they may epare much rezation to thow whom
they hold dear; they may quench much petty jealouqr,
much unieemly dieputation and itrifo.

mSVOBIUMH — KTILS.

'ivil ie a part of the eystem of thinge in which we
live, and, a* such, muit be patiently ■ ubmitted to. Man
wae intended to be an actire creature. One of the
grand aime of the Creator in hie formation eridentlT
wae, that he ihould never lettle down into a eluggiah
or stagnant state. It would have been eaiy for the
Dirine power which breathed into him so wonderful a
thin^ as life, to haTO surrounded him with nothing but
blessings, as ihey are called, so that ha would have
nothing to do but enjoy himself. But this would not
hare produced what the Almighty wished — a world in
which a rational being was to exercise his faculties,
and use his endowments, with a proper regard to a
certain end; an account — namely, to be rendered at the
close — of wiiat and how he had done. We are here
placed between evils which we are to avoid or subdue,
and good which we are to aim at and enjoy; and hence,
instead of being a set of torpid machines, as we would
have been in anything like a world of perfect happiness,
we are in a perpetual state of vigilance and activity,
making the ftillest use of those mental and bodily pro-
perties with which we have been gifted.

If we narrowly inspect the evils or misfbrtunee with
iriiich we are visited, we will find them invariably to
be either of two kinds. Some are the simple result
of an occasional and habitual violation of the laws of
naturo, or an occasional or habitual failure in that
vigilance and activity which we are bound to employ
for the avoiding of such distresses. These may be called
moral evils. The second class are the result of cir-
enniitances over which we had no control, and may
therefore be called natural evils. Such a division,
however, is only necessary in the present state of our
attainments as a race; for there can be no doubt that
means were intended to be discovered by the ingenuitv
of man for the avoidance and neutralisation of all evifs
whatever; and therefore, in the case of what we call
natural evils, we should only consider ourselves as the
victims of imperfect knowledge, and be on that account,
the more induced to strain after the improvement of
ourselves and of our fellow-creatures, so as to obviate
these as well as the resi.

Great care should be taken, when an evil befalls us,
to ascertain whether it be moral or natural — in other
words, whether it be the consequence of our own error,
or of circumstances at present beyond uur control. Our
self-love makes us extremely apt to attribute all our
mishaps to the latter cause; but if we are wise, we will
not do so. We will rather search back unscrupulously
into our own nature, or our own history, for the causes
of the evil ; and if we find them there, resolve for the
Aiture to be more circumspect or more active, so as to
make a recurrence of the mischief less likely. The
most of the acddentt that occur, though they appear
474

at int ilgU to b* Batumi •vili, would b« foond, m
olow faw pe ot to n^to be moral. The mo«t of th» diaaasM
that btfaU u* aonid be tnm^ to a Mlvra i^ our fMif
to ouiwlvei, and art therafora moral aviU : tha rasti
luah as canoara, warn, oiganio roaUiwmatioai, |^o„ whio^
appear natural and unavoidable, aia, we have bo doubt,
moral evils also. If w Anew littttr, m might pro*
bably avoid them, a« easily a* w« can avoid coldf.
They may be oallad natural in tha meantime, b«t Bot
so unloai mankind strive to difcover their causes, so
as in the long-run to obviate them. They are certa^ly
destined to be obviated at last, as maBy disorders, now
understood, formerly were; and men must at preioBt
oonsidev them only in the light of an inducement to
the exertion of the spirit of inquiry.

There are some evils which we incur through here-
ditary channels, and are quite beyond our own control.
We are oharged, for instance, with the seeds of a
harassing ailment, or of an early death, by the long fore-
gone and perhaps long-repented vices of our parents.
But all this may be accounted for on the same principle.
It has been intended that our moral natures should be
so much improved, that eren the possible distresses of
a descendant may operate as a disck to our wicked-
ness; and what is a contemporary instance of innocent
consumption, but a warrant to prevent us from doing
that which may bring future lives into the same hasard!
It is hard in the meantime for the suiferer; but what
can we say against the course of nature I Perhaps the
spectacle (and few can be more painful) of a youth
dyins in his very bloom, in consequence of natural
debility derived from weakly parents, ma^ be the
means of preventing two persons from putting them-
selvea into the situation for bringing on similar evils.
A vei^ high kind of conscientiousness, but one not
unattainable even bv ordinary minds, is called into
force by the contemplation of such a case of unbought
distress. A man who has any reason to fear for the
validity of his own constitution, will, if fully impressed
with a sense of such results, as likely to arise from his
quitting a condition of celibacy, condemn himself to
peipetual solitude rather than purchase an improvement
of his own happiness at the expense of uoreckonable
evil to others. Fortunatelv society is beginning to
look more narrowly into such matters than it used to
do; and we do not despair of seeing a time when it will
be nearly as infamous to communicate liCs under oer>
tain oiroumstnnces, as, under others, to take it away.

There are other evils which affect society, and which
do their full part in making this a world of wo. There
is squalid miserable poverty; there is disgusting lament-
able vice; there is horrible crime, public execution,
and national war. All these things, it is said, are in-
evitable ; they spring from the nature of man, and
from the laws which compel him to dwell in social
connection. Those who say so are shallow thinkers.
The world is naturally a beautiful world. Out what Ood
has made a paradi:* for our dwelling-place, mankind
have often rendered a desert by their crimes. Nature
and revelation alike proclaim that the Creator intended
we should be happy; but bow has brutal ignorance,
vile intemperance, gross crime, and every species of
evil desires, blightM our comforts and degraded our
immortal being I It has never yet been proved that
there must fueeuarUy be poverty, which is the source
of many evils. A strikine instance cf tbe absence of
poverty in a large class of society is found in the cose
of the Quakers, or community of Friends. With some
peculiarities in speech and dress, not worth while to
need, this numerous body of individuals act upon a fixed
uniform principle of suppressing the passions. They
curb the appetites and headlong impulses of human
nature. In thia may be said to lie the substance of
sound morals. The Quakers, therefore, habitually
practise what other claaaea only theorise upon, at least
are seldom performing. The consequence of this
guardedness in thought and aetion is, that although
there are many thousands of Quakers in Great Britain,
and many thouiaudt in the United StatM of America,

txmio MD SOCIAL Dtmss ov wm.

uiiku in tht OB* oouninr noi th« other do wo fm
find m Qnaker bfgging in the itiMta, or an intoxi«atod
Quftkor. or waj on* of thU cUm of lubjooU and dtiiwui
AtthebMrofftcrimuwloourtl Th* Qiukon we, Uk«
other people, engeged in the common affiun of the
rrorld; thejr ue merohwti, mechAnioi, wtifloen, meri-
nen, Mid othenriae employed in the ordiniujr buiineiB
of life. They ue lubject to the same temptatione wd
perrenioni that we are; yet, by the exeroiaa of a ^'

Slai deme of lelf-re^Mct and pradenoe, they aroid
em. Here, then, is a clear demonitration, that eren
without the aid of civil power, but by the mere foroe
of moral influence, there U a claai of men in the midet
of wciety who do escape di^^noeful porerty, and who
are iree from outrageoua Tioe and crime.

With regard to death, which if io generally looked
upon as an eril, and the last and wont of all, it if in
reality no luch thing, iinleM it occur prematurely,
which it never woul<r do if men weie perfect in the
obiervation of the laws of nature. A* the concluiion
of an ezittenoe which never could have been given if
othen had not died, it must be regarded a* only a part
of our earthly deetiny, and lubmitted to acoordingly.

iitntOiLurr ov bank akd condition.

When the young grow up, they find lociety to con'
nit of claaies of varioui depeei of rank and condition;
■ome with titles of distinction, others without any title
whatever; some ridi, some poor, and many in a middle
State between great wealth and poverty. The youthful
leaaoner perhaps thinks that all this is wrong, and that
by natural right all men ought to be upon a level. It
is proper that not only the young, but others who take
up notions of this kind, should be told why these difie-
renees originate, and why they exist. Mankind, we
may suppose, were originally equal in rank and condi-
tion ; and the;^ might nave remained so, or nearly so,
hid they continued to remain in primeval barbarity,
and liveid apart from each other. But it was not in
their nature to remain in this condition. According to
naturalists, man is a gregarious animal — that is, he
desires to live in society. As soon as men becan to
consort together, they b«^an to separate into ranks and
eenditions. He who was the bravest was made king;
he who was the most clever or the most prudent became
the most wealthy; he who was the most idle became
the most poor. From this kind of beginning all ranks
and conditions q)rung: and subsequent events have
modified society into what we now see it. It may be
said that this explanation would do verr well if we
now found that tnose who enjoy distinctions in rank
were the cleverest of the people; if we found that the
richest were always the most deserving of riches. Here
again we must apply to human nature.

In one sense titles are contemptible; they are fiui>
tastio trappinn which a wise man would not covet.
But, on the whole, there are few men possessing '^hat
degree of wisdom and self-denial which would lead taem
to despise titles or the dignities connected with them,
whtn applud to themulve*. As far as we can discover,
the Quakers are the only people who do not regard
these things. The citizens of the United States of Ame-
rica affect to despise titles; yet it is curious they eive
a title of distinction to their chief magistrate, whom
they style * Hit ExetUeney;' they also write Matter,
Ok its contraction Mr, before their names. In this we
see a degree of the same vanity and weakness which
afiTects the subjects of ancient monarchies. It would
appear that there ic a yearning after these follies among
mankind. Be it so or not, it is an idiosyncrasy which,
from time immemorial, has been seised hold of by rulers
for the purpose of stimulating men to deeds beneficial
to their country. The prospect of being entitled to
write Sir before their names, or of being called a Lord,
induces numbers of individuals to do great and go\.i
actions, which they would not do for money. As these
titles generally descend to their children, they have a
double stimulant to action. Genius not being heredi-
tary, these titles may and do £kU into the poNoision of

men of no ahility ; Ber«rth«UN, the sttmnlaat to aoqniM
titles such t/t they h»ve, oontii^iMi io act beneficially,
as it i» thought, through the nation ; and they them-
selves fisel bound to sustidn a certain honourahle ch»-
ncter oonsistwt with their Tank. .*nd although that
equality of rank for which vinonariae ccntend it utterly
unattain»ble in any state of society, yet in this happy
country^ there is a more important kind «>f equality
whieh is eiyoyed b^r every individual member of thf
community ; all British subjects are on a footing of
perfect equalitv in the eye of the law. In our courts
of iustioe no difference is re9ognised between the peer
and the peasant. The highest rank cannot protect thf
offender from the vengeance of the laws: the i|ioi$
obscure condition will not prevent the aggrieve^ part j
from having the strictest justice administere4 t<> him*
And besides, there is no rank or condition to which »
British sulyect may not successfullv aspire; the prott4eit
honours of the peerage, and the highest offices of th*
state, being open to the ambition of all who posiefp
sufficient merit to entitle them to such distinction,

The piindplef of human nature apply in a similar
manner in solving the mysteiy, why there are men
enjoying riches which they never wrought for, and mij
be undeserving of. RichM consist of that part of th«
surface of the earth which can be used for human hahi-
tations and their appendages; of that part which can
be used to produce vegetation; of that purt over whi^
and near which, there are flowing waters capahle of
imparting motion; they consist of all personal estate;
and of money, the agreed representative of all property,
which is, at the same time, property in itself. Po*-
sesnons of these various kinds are acquired by inheri-
tance or by industry. Bight by inheritance is not
wrong. Would any rationaTmind maintain that,whi9i
the father of a family, or any one who has no family,
has acquired property, and dies, that it shall belong of
right to any and to all who can get possession by
fraud, force, or whatsoever other means they may I
Society could not be held together if such were the
rule of right. It is at once wparent that if such wer^
the rule, there would be nothmg to contend for, because
all inducement to acquire for the benefit of one's family
and connections would be annihilated. Society would
be forthwith reduced to barbarism. The right to acquire,
and the right of inheritance, are wisely ordained to be
a necessary consequence of society, and one of its
stronj^t motives to act to useful ends.

If it be irreconcilable to justice, to convenience, and
to the common good, to take by fraud or violence that
which the dead must have left behind them, much
more so is it to take from the living, by like means,
that whidi they can honestly acquire by the exercise
of their own industry. If a memW of a community
were always liable to be despoiled of the fruits of his
labour, the great principle of the system ''f being to
which man belongs would have been miipl ?d : there
would have been no sufficient motive to uclion. If
one would know what society would be, if such were
the law and the practice as to property inherited or
acquired, he must visit countries steeped in barbarism,
and on which the light of Christianity does not shi le.

It is contended b^ some persons that there should
be a periodical division of land and property, and that
every member of the community shall have an equal
share. How often should this division be made I Shall
it be made once a year, once in ten years, once in fifty
years I Why should it be made at one time rather
than at another ! Suppose it could be made, and were
made, it must be but a very short time before it ouiht
to be made again, if the reason for making it lie, that
some have more and some less, and that some are rich
and some poor. One must be wilfully blind not to see
that either the whole action of sooiaty must stop, or
that inequality of condition would arise in a single
year, peniaps in a sinsle mouth; and even such in-
equality as would call tot a new division. In a country
where the spirit of enterprise and speculation has an
unNftnined agency, the oausei of regret are, that sad

47A

oHAibSBffs isitoviiA.n6s 901k tat nxi/ifLE.

nrefiM ooonr, ud tiuU vrapnkj duuifM lumdt too
often, nthoT tluui tlutt U u unroMonkbly held in tho
kimda of » f«w of titeir ■ncoeMon. A nnkll number of
gmentioM ia inn to bring equklity, ooniidering our
community u • continuing one. Thui property oomei
•nd goest in tliis and otiier f^ oountriee, m fut m
Mi]r one can reuonablT dedre to lure it. The chuigei
which are eeen u to tne ownenliip of it mo regulated
hj authority tu wiier than any or man'i inetitution.

OM VOBIIINO OPimOMS.

aiinion rignifiee belief. There are good and bad
one. It ii our duty at rational beingi to oultirate
good or correct opinion! upon ereiy niDjeet, and to
eiefaew thoee which are of a oontrarr deicription.
niere ie nothing more eaiy than to form hasty, inaccu-
rate opinloni, but it ii very difficult to form a correct
belief on many topics. Opinion u found to be more or
less dependent on times, circumstances, and bodily tem-
peraments. It frequently arises out of prejudice, and
IS often influenced by impulse. When we form an opi-
nion upon any subject, we are inclined to believe that
all opinions of an opposite character have been, and
are, erroneous. AVe are apt to laugh at ereiybody's
opinion but our own. All this betrays a deficiency of
sober reflection, an ignorance of the ustory and facul-
ties of mankind, and a want of knowledge of the world.
The people of every country possess opinions favour-
able to their own fashions, customs, laws, and religion,
and unfavourable to those of other nations. A love of
one's own country is certainly a commendable feeling,
but it dtould be a love arising from examination and
conviction, not from prejudice. The Hindoo worships
the river Ganges. We, by our education, know that
this is nonsense. The bigoted but conscientious Turk
will go to death upon it, that Mohammed was a true
prophet. We, by our superior intelligence and reading,
know that Mohammed wm a vile impostor. The people
who lived in our own country a hundred Tears ago
were of belief that certain old women, whom they
termed witches, could, bv supernatural powers, raise
tempests at sea and land, and malevolently interrupt
the course of human aflUrs. Thepe<^le who possessed
this belief were perfectly conscientious in their opinion;
yet iM know that this opinion was a gross absurdit;)r.
We Juiow that our ancestors believed in an impossi-
bility. Opinion is therefore, as we see, a thing of time
and place. The opinion that is supoosed to be ri^ht in
one century, is wron^ in the next, ^hat is considered
to be a right opinion in Asia, is thought wrong in
Europe. What is deemed a correct and pnuseworthy
belief in Britain, is reckoned an absurdity in France.
Indeed it is often seen that the opinion which is held
good in one district of a country, is looked upon with
contempt in other districts — so that the whole world
is found to be covered, as it were, with a variety of
opinions and shades of opinions, like the diversified
colours by which countries arc depicted in a map. Opi-
nion, we have said, is also dependent on temperament
of tlie body. This is a melancholy truth. A fat and
oholeh, man does not think in exactly the same way as
a lean man. A man who enjoys all the comforts which
opulence can purchase, has a tendency to think diffe-
rently in some things from a man who is suffering under
misfortunes or poverty. So strangel;jr constituted is the
principle which governs human opinion, that most men
nave reason to alter their opinions on many points in
their progress through life.

What does all this wonderful contrariety of opinion
teach us t Since we see that opinion is dependent on
the locality of our birth, on the ace in which we live,
on the condition in which we may mance to be placed,
and on the physical qualities of our bodies, have we
therefore no power over opinion! Must we be its
slave I These are questions of a solemn character, and
we must answer them soberly. The contrariety of
opinion existing in timee and places teaches us, in the
trst plaoe, hutnUUjf, which is the foundation of manv
heavenly virtues. It shows us that the opinions whicn
476

we may form, pwrtionlarly on ibMiaet subjects, mat
possibly neither be the most comet nor the most
enduring. PerhMe what we have taken up and che-
rished as our opinion may after all be a deiusi m. tn
learning a lesson of humility and distrust of our own
style of thinking, we are impnessed with a tender regard
for the opinions of others — opinions which most likely
have been taken up on grounds equally conscientious
with our own.

Although opinion is commonly dependent on those
oontingent circumstances which we have noticed, it
cannot be allowed that we have no power over it. We
have a power over the formation of opinion to a certain
extent, and it is our present object to show how this
power can be exerted in order to enable us the better
to fulfil the duties of life. The reason why opinion is
so illusory in its nature is, that mankind have ever
been excessively careless in the adoption of their opi-
nions. They are in the habit of picking up random
ideas, which they mould into an opinion; and after
having made up their minds, as thev call it, on what
thtfi think is their opinion, they will listen to no expla-
nation of the opinions of others. Their obstinacy, tneir
self-conceit, their self-interest, their widi to please the
party to which they have attached themselves, induce
them to hold fast to their original opinion, until time
or experience in all likelihomi wear it down, and its
absurdity is secretly pressed upon their notice. But
even after its absurutr is disclosed, they are sometimes
ashamed to say the^ have altered it; and so peirhaps
the^ have one opinion which they keep locked up m
their bosom, and another which they bring into Mily
use, and flourish before company. In the wposite lan-
guage of Sciipture, these men war aminst tne Tbdtii.

It is our duty, as good members of society, and with
a view to self-respect, to be very cautious in the forma-
tion, and, most of all, in the display of our opinions.
MauT excellent men, on arriving at middle life, have
deeply re^tted that they should have heedlessly pub-
lished their early and hastily-formed opinions in youth.
They had reasoned, as they thought, soundly, but it
was without a knowledge of the world or its history.
Speaking to the young, we would say— while yet under
the training of parents, guardians, and teachers, it is
Tour duty to receive with confidence the instructions
by which it is attempted to enlishton your minds, and
to put you in the way of welldomg. But these friends
of your youth will probably toll you that when you pass
from under their guardianship into the active scenes of
life, you become a responsible being— responsible alike
to human and Divine laws — and that you must now
think for yourself. At this critical period of your exist-
ence you have every chance of coming in contact with
the idle, the dissipated, the frivolous, who will try to
make you embrace erroneous opinions, and who will
possibly put the most mischievous books into your hands
for peruHtl. Do not be.led away by such machinations;
neitner be dismayed by the number of wits or profane
jesters who may assail you. Do your duty manfully.
In order that you may attain a correct opinion on the
great debatoable subjects that you will hear runs in
your ears through life, begiu a course of reading tnose
good and authoritative works which intelligent friends
will recommend to your notice. Take every opportu-
nity of cultivating vour understanding, of enlarging
your ideas, of banishing prejudices. Look always at
the different sides of a question ; for you must remem-
ber that there are always many ways of tolling a story.
In proportion as you advance .u your privato studies,
and acquire a knowledge of toe passions and conduct
of mankind, you will more and more be able to form a
correct opinion. There is one thing which you will
learn witn surprise from this kind of experience; and
that is, that many, though holding different opinions,
are driving towanls the same end in the main. They
have only differed upon trifles, and pwhaps fought
about mere words. This is one of the stiance weak-
nesses of the human race, into which you will find it
difficult to avoid falling. The more that you leani, the

FUBUO AND SOCIAL DUTIES OF LIFE.

note will ^a lee oraie to entertain » libenJ Tiew
of tlie qpiuioni of othen. It ii tlie exeroiae of this
Ubenlity of mind which fpnni % diatinguishing tndt in
tite m^nnen of our country. By the Oritiah conetitu-
. r^n, eTetjr one ii allowed perfect freedom of opinion,
«ift aboTe all price, whicn it ie our dut^ not to pioe-
Mite or abuie. Let ui form our opinioua on wlid
^undf of conyiction — ^let us cheriah theae opiniona to
vhe adornment of our lires— and let ua so maintain a
due regard for the opiniona of othera, that we ahow
forth in our feelinga and actiona that moat excellent
and amiable of all virtuea— Chaiuty.

Theae obaervationa apply indiiferently to Tarioua
aubjecta upon which opiniona may be formed; and we
would, in conduaion, beg to aay a few worda in parti-
cular on opiniona of a political nature, which are the
moat difficult of all to he correctly formed. Political
opiniona are applied to the theory uid practice of
national goremment. The policy of national govern-
ment ia not an exact adence to be learned, aa aome
would imagine. It ia more a faahion than a acience.
It u a thing dependent on time, place, and other cir-
cumatancea. The form of soTemment which auita one
age or country would not auit another age and country.
Some nationa are beat governed by a deapotiam, othera
by a mixture of monarohy and democracy, othera by a
pure republicaniam; but, aa we aay, what ia beat at one
time ia not beat at another. The geniua and neceaaitiea
of every people are auQect to change, and conaequently
their govemmenta dumge with them. If we feel the
force of theae facta, we will be cautioua how we aaaume
an uniJterable opinion upon any mode of administering
government. The youne are particularly liable to take
up notiona on this subject which they afterwards feel
inclined to fall from. We would admonish them to
read aiad digest the hiatory of their country, and reflect
well upon the genius of the nation, before they come to
a determinate opinion in politics. They will learn, aa
they advance to maturity, that in nothing ia there such
a maaa of duplicity and affectation aa in political mat-
tera. They are therefore called upon by duty to ex-
amine extenaively, and probe deeply, the grounda upon
which they form their opinion. They will find it much
the aafeat course, as already expressed, to think lightly
in the matter till they have had some experience of the
world, and been convinced by the evidence of their
senses. National exigencies sometimes call upon us to
engage more deeply in politics at one time than another.
Discretion must here be our guide; yet there ia gene-
rally greater danger in our wasting much precious time
on poUtical diaquiaition, than in falling into an apathy
upon public a^ira. He ia a wise man who knows how
BO to guide hia atepa aa to preserve himaelf from falling
into either extreme. Evenr one who haa been for a
long aeriea of years politically buay, will acknowledge,
that though he thinka he waa right in the main (in
which opinion he may be right or wrong), yet that he
haa apent many buay houra and anxioua thoughts on
aubjecta which, looked back upon, are aeen to have
been profitleaa and insignificant.

DUTIES WHICH THE PEOPLE OF ONE CODNTRV OWE TO
IBOSE OF ANOTHER.

It is aeen that all the people of the earth belong to
aome one of the many nationa with which it ia covered.
It ia also aeen that nationa are generally aeparated from
Mch other not only by language, mannera, cuatoma,
religion, and forma of civil government, but alao by
geographical boundariea. The division of mankind into
nationa ia natural, and poaaeaaea obvious advantages.
There is a limit beyond which the government of a
nation cannot well be administered. By being confined
within oertidn limited bounda, the national inatitutiona
mar b« improved, aecurity and proaoority promoted,
and the intereata of the people advanced. We fre-
quently find that the people of one nation live at enmity
with thoae of another nation. We find many at open
war with their neighboura — that is, they are resorting
to brutal phyai^l totw to wttle a dispute. These are

enls deeply to be deplored. Nationa have mutual wants,
which a mutual intercourae and trade will obviate.
They have aimilar intereata at atake. Their inhabi-
tanta all alike belong to the great human family, and
ahould live at peace with each other. But ambition,
and many evil paasiona — strife, malice, and unchari-
tableness — are continually in operation to retard their
advancement towards a universal philanthropy. Na-
tional war ia the heavieat curae whidi afflicts humanity.
It leada to enormoua debta and taxationa, and in reality
is the beginnins of all kinds of distresses among the
people. Yet the people have been frequently very
clamorous for war. We say have been, for we hope that
this sentiment will in future be otherwise regulated.
We ought to impress upon our minds a aurpaasing
horror of war. Let ua thmk of it as the acourge of the
human race, and aa one more deatructive, phyaically
and morally, than the moat virulent epidemic. Were
the inhabitanta of countriea dulv impreaaed with theae
feelinga, did they reflect upon the bleasings which are
showered upon nationa during a laating peace, thoy
would henceforth reaolve to oppose, by every constitu-
tional means, the commencement of wars by their
governments. Besides the actual loss of lives and of
property to a nation during war, it is incalculable the
injury sustained by society by such an infliction. A
war of a few years' duration may retard intellectual
improvement for a century. We hold, therefore, that
it IS the dutv of every man to discountenance such a
system of folly. He cannot be a lover of his countir,
he cannot be the firiend of moral cultivation, who would
countenance such an idiotic process of settling quarrels
between intelligent nations. According to a rational
view of men's condition in separate nations, war can in
no case be reconcilable with social happiness, unless on
the obvious principle of self-defence. So long as there
remain such masses of ignorance over the earth, so
long, we are afraid, force must be employed to preserve
the little spots of civilisation from the flood of bar<:
barism which might overrun them. May it be antici-
pated, however, that this urgent necessity will not exist
much longer ! How glorious would be the prospect if
universal peace were permanently established! We
should find one nation instructmg another in all the
arts and sciences of which it was itself roaster : we
should find an honourable spirit of emulation running
through the whole; and all shaping their policy so as
to promote the most beneficial intercourse in commerce,
literature, and refinements. lu the present state of
thinga, as far aa it can be accompliahed, a kind and
friendly international communion la a high moral duty.
It is our duty to look with an eye of charity on national
peculiarities. We have no right to insult the feelings
of the people of any nation, however strange their
language, their fashions, or their customs may appear
to ua. We have likewiae no right to taunt them with
any apparently improper characteristics in their forma
of government. It is our duty to consider them aa
entitled to live and act according to their own fancy,
aa independent responsible beings. To write, print,
and disseminate any scurrilous jests tending to lower
them in general estimation, is not only immoral, but
inconsistent with those principles of manly honour
which do not permit any one to be struck who cannot
defend himself. When we therefore insult a foreign
nation by our obloquy, we commit the mean and
cowardly action of injuring a party which has no means
of redressing the grievance.

RECEEATIONS AND AMUSEMENTS.

We have often had occasion to show that this atate
of being ia one of alternate action and repoae. There
muat be aerioua action, and there muat be amuaements.
It waa intended that mortals ahould b« pleaaed and
happy, if they deaerve to be ao. Thoae who maintain
that me ia to be an uninterrupted acene of labour and
navitv are, we hope and believe, entirely mistaken.
We discern nothing in the natural world, nor in roan's
peculiar constitution or relations, which gives the least

477

'^^#

cHAionauM nryoittAttcnr voa tbh mofle.

e6uhtenan6) to iadi ui opialon. AmiiMmmt, lllw ercnr-
thing elM in which ftee ageiM^ it oonewned, hmt be
ifinooent «nd gnteflil, or improper, pemidoai, uid in*
iroductOiT of Ike wortt of erilf. Young penoni muit
k»Te the fbrmer, or the^ will nek out (he UUer. It
it the dut/ Mid the btereit of parent! to lead children
to take pleaittie in luoh tbingi ae can be approved of,
and to oiTert children from luch aa muit be ii\|urioui
to them, and afflictire to thoie who are deeplj intereeted
in them. We apprehend that there maj be penoni,
and olanea of perwna, who will disagree with ut on
thii lubjeot, a> they may hare done on wme which
hare been already touched upon. We ihould deeply
regret to displeaee any one; but on a matter fo impor-
tant as the makinff good citiieni and moral agents out
of children, one inould not hesitate to sj^ak frankly.
If wrong, persons l>etter able to judge will take care
that no eril riiits them in consequence of such error.

Amusements are phrsical or mental. It may be more
proper to say that there may be, >!»(, amusements
which are intellectual, and tecond, such as consist of
lome bodily motion, in wliich the mind is more or less
interested. If there be such distinctions, athletic sports
may be of the second sort. The simple use of the eye,
of the ear, and of the imagination, may be of the first
•ort. It is beliered that all amusements must hare
some contemplated end or result, whether that be de-
fined and certain, or contingent. We beliere so, Iw-
cause ererything in this world seems to be moring on
to some purpose. One who is acting without knowing
for what, is neither labouring; nor amusing himself, but
is trying to get rid of himself, and of time. The most
captirating sports are those which are oontbgent; that
is, sports or occupations wherein the result may be
highly fkrourable or otherwise. No one engages in
them without expecting to come out on the successful
side. Hence hunting, fishing, horse-racing, and gamins
are of this order. The hope of success Is a reiy high
eicitement, but the mortification and distress of failure
erer Tar exceed the pleasures of success. There is a ten-
dency to discourage out-of-door sports. This is certainly
wrong. If not carried to Excess, they are among the most
Salutary and pleasing amusements in fine weather.

Erenr one admits that the mind and moral faculties
are to be dereloped, and strengthened, and made to do
the best, by exercise. This is equally true of physical
power. Ereiy action which it can be proper to do at
all, ought to be done in the best way, otherwise we do
not answer the end of our being. In the regetable and
animal departments, all proper care and cultivation
tend to use and beauty. Is tnere any reason why the
physical powers of man should not hare care and cul-
tiration to the same ends t Those who prefer a stoop-
ing, lounging, awkward, graceless figure and motion,

tiiff a proper mode, and others who think this highly
improper. Wa wetald not run against any opiniona,
whether well or 111-foanded. Bat as to dancing. Just
like ereiything else, it may be mbased and perrerted, or
be made to be an innocent, healthy, and commendable
accomplishment. There is no mode so much within the
reach of the community In general as this. Properly
taught, it brings out tne power of the muMlcj, and
gires them their natural action : all natuial motion is
moeAil. Why should not man conform to this general
law of nature I Dancing well is one mode of conform*
ing. Possibly it is considered frirolous and corrupt,
in^. Nothing is frirolous in this system of being whwh
is mnocent, pleasing, and adapted to promote healthy
action. Persons who are capable of bemg corrupted by
dancing, will certainly find some much more effective
mode to become so if this be denied to them. Dancing
among the rery young is usually oonducted under tlie
eye of discreet seniors, and well-educated adults need
no superrision in dancing but that of good sense and
their own self-respect. But suppose dancing could in
any case be perrerted, so may ererything else be. If
we are not to do anything till It is mipossible to err in
doinc it, what will there oe for any one to do t

Muiic. — It is one of the most conrincinc proofs of
the benerolence of Deity, that he has so formed the
human ear as to make it capable of finding a rational
and derated pleasure from the action of sound. There
might hare been organs of speech, and ears to hear,
without imparting to the ear the power of knowing
and delighting in music. It must hare been intended
that this gift should be used, and (most probably) as
one mode of praise and tlianksgiring, as well as for
innocent pleasure. Music is action } it is action to
some end; the end is innocent and delightful. The
enjoyment has the adrantage of being solitary and
social. Music may be made to produce a sense of high
moral feeling, and it may be made to produce feelings
of an opposite character. The same rules must be
applied to this subject as to all others, that ererything
was created, and for some good and wise purpose; and
that ererything must act, and will act, to some useful
end if human ignorance or error do not interfere.

It is consistent that man, as he is so superior to all
other animals, should be alike superior in the making
and enjoying of musical sounds. He undoubtedly is
so. His roice (it would be more proper to say woman's
roice) includes all the sweet sounds which can be made
by all other animals. He has, by cultirating this power,
by applying the atmosphere through the human lungs,
and oy delio

may be on one side of the question; those who think
that it was intended that man should be an upright,
easy, frank, comeir, and conrenient being to himself,
and pleasant to all within whose obserration he may
come, wiii be on the other.

Although the frame of man is so made at to permit
him to assume an endless rariety of positions, and to
apply his strength in all of them, he does, or should,
return always to an upright position. No essential
deviation from this position can possibly be a natural
One, but for a temporary purpose. This is prored by
the framing of the human bones. This framing shows
that when one walks, it was intended that he should be
perpendicular; if he walk in an inclined position, he
nai not only to more himself, but to resist tne power of
gravitation at the same time. The muscles in such
case have a strained and unnatural duty to perform.
It seems to have been intended, by the same sort of
proof, that human beings should walk with the lower
limbs— that is, from the hips downward— and not with
an unmeaning and ungraceful action of the whole
, as is often seen to be done.

person,
Z>anoif%g. — As to the best modes of acquiring strength,

ease, and grace, there mar be very diirerent opinions. I ... -

There are many who thmk the discipline ol diEino-latthegaming-tab'le. Unnoticed by the miserable victim,

_ -^ , delicacy of touch, and by bringing substances
in contact with each other, and by sending the wind
through that wonderful work of his own hands, the
organ, found the means of rendering tribute to the
Most High, and ot' softening and purifying his own
heart. No doubt music was given to mortals for their
amusement, and it is their duty to take it in that light,
and be thankful for it.

Oame*. — Oames at cards are a rery common amuse-
ment. They may be innocent, but there is nothing to re-
commend them. They give no action to the body; they
are a very humble occupation for an intelligent mind.
Whether the chances in distributing fifty-two pieces of
Sjpotted pasteboard fifty successive times in three or
four hours shall possess some of the engaged with for-
tunate pieces, and others with unfortunate ones, can
hardly be said to be doing anrthing to any useful end.
When the sport is orer, uie thine prored or arrired at
ia, that in thia use of four hours ofa short life, A counted
so much, and B so much. This, however, is not the
end usually proposed'in playing cards. The cards are
only the machinety which, with more or less skill, sub-
mits to the laws of chance the result of emptying one
man's pocket and filling another's. A passion for this
kind or gaming eztinguuhes, or conrerts into a wither-
ing curse, erety fine feelbg of the human heart. Time,
health, property, the proper use of the tongue, character,
self-respect, and peace of mind, are the sacrifices made

FUBLIO AND BOOIAXi DtTIEB Of tXTA.

ik thii \AAly
tnj opinloni,
dancing, (uil
idperrertMiOr
i oommendabU
uch within tlie
shii. Properly
I muKlcJ, wd
tuuU motion ii
to tliit general
de of conform*
t and corrupt>
of beins wliioli
'omote healthy
ig corrupted by
more effeoti7e
hem. Dancing
icted under the
ed adults need
good sense and
ncine could in
Ing else be. If
ossible to err ia
to dot

ncing proofs of
so formed the
iding a ration^
)f sound. There
id ears to hear,
Ter of knowiig
e been intended
)st probably) as
, as well as for
it is action to
lelightful. The
Dg solitary and
3 a sense of high
produce feelings
I rules must be
that CTerythinff
se purpose; and
I, to some useful
interfere.
superior to all
r in the making
undoubtedly is
to say woman's
ich can be made
iting this power,
M human lungs,
ging substances
ndbg the wind
iwn hands, the
tribute to the
ifying his own
aortals for theit
it in that light,

ihe ihaoklet of kabU are put on, which no earthly
power can unrlret. When the gambler's last shilling
is gone, he starts as from a dream into a Aill sense <n
the complicated misery and ruin in which he has in*
ToWed himself. He must then dcTote himself to infkmy,
and submit himself to the power of a gmritation whidi
will bring him inevitably to the V>ttom of its abySS.
The erils of gaming may be readily judged of hj the
liumber of suicidal deaths which it occasions, especially
in the greM cities of Europe.

All gAming for property leads, in proportion to its
character, to such results. The means oi gamins, and
especially with cards (ae they are the easy ana most
common implements in use), are regarded with the
abhorrence which is assbciated with them by all per-
sons who feel an Interest in the young. The young and
the mtddle-nged hare no need of caras for amusement.
They may have many amusing occupations which are
innocent and improving. There may be persons in an
advanced time or life, who are beyond the seduction of
gaming, to whom the interest of a game of cards may
Be an mnocert and welcome amusement. Undoubtedly,
fHeids who are met for social purposes, and who have
nothing bettor to do with their time, hands, and minds,
may play cards in a manner to give no offfence to them-
selves or others, But it is pleaiine to know that the
state of imptvvement is such, that in most social meet-
ings there are higher entertainments than that which
cards afford, and which are justly in higher esteem.

There mieht be games, one would think, adapted to
amuse children, and to be at the same time innocent
and useful ones. Whatever thev aro, they must be con-
sistent with the principle which requires a beginning,
in interesting succession of circumstances, and a result
worth attaining. Children must be busy. To require
of them to bO Still, is to require what nature has for-
bidden. To J>lace a child on a hard bench, and tell
him to Sit Still there two or three hours, without any
employment for his hands or mind, is as great a viola-
tion of natural law as to require of him to stand on his
head for the same length of time. There is an obvious
want in the means of amusing children; and we appre-
hend that it arises from disrezording the principles on
which the construction of physical and intellectual being
rests. If there were an extensive workshop, provided
with every variety of tools, with a proper superinten-
dent, to which bovB micht resort on some proper
arrangement, and where tner could make articles for
themselves, there can be little doubt that it would be
diligently frequented. The reason is, that their little
efibrts would be to some end, and by natural means.
On the other hand, the gymnastic machinery is fallen
into disrepute. These eiercises are uninteresting re-
petitions to no end, except with those who know that
bodily motion must be had to secure health. In such
case they endure the labour for the end in view. But
the amusements of the young must be of a nature to
secure action to an innocent and useful end, and health
will take care of itself. Perhaps there may be some
persons who can follow out this matter, and invent
rational amusements. They would deserve to be re-
garded as benefactors, and would probably find a sub-
stantial reward. We cannot but remark that there is
one eamd which is one of the most interesting and
healtnful that can be played — that of tennis or nand-
ball. There are many things to recommend it; and
among others, it is one sufficiently interesting to be
played for itself, without adding to it the zest of win-
ning or losing anything but the game. We incline to
think that it is the game, of all others, which deserves
the patrohace of colleges and seminaries, and is well
adapted to develop the physical force.

CMiMfMf{on.-^The principal amusement of rational
people Is the interchange of thoughts by speech or con-
Tersatiotti which word is made out of the Latin words eon
and vernf, and means litertUly to be turned to or with.
The principal of this amiisemeut is found in the law of
association of thought. Intelligent persons can always
make a courersation. the only difficult step is the

ilrst; thai ought not to b« M eontidend. PenonI who
are skilled in the vt of talking oan always give it »
direotion. The purposes of oontetsation are, to put
one's self io the Way of learning soinething; to impart
somethibg that others want to hear; to form opinions
on interestinff subjects; to settle the merits or demerit*
of public action; to recount amusing or extraordinary
ihcts, kc. Itc. Every human being knows something
which he is willing to tell, and which any other that he
is in company with wishes to know; or which, if known
to him, would be amusing or usefhl. To be a skilAil
conversationist, one's eves and ears should be busy;
nothing should escape his observation. His memory
should M a cood one, and he should hare a good-natured
willingness to please and to be pleased. It follows that
all matter of offence in conversation should be avoided.
The self-love of others is to be respected. Therefore
no one is tolerated who makes himself the subject of
his own commendation, nor who disregards the nelings
of those whom he addresses. There is as much demand
for politeness and civility in conversation as in any
other department of social intercourse. One who rudelr
bterrupts another, does much the same thing as though
he should, when walking with another, impertinenUy
thrust himself before his companion, and stop his pro-
gress. Under favourable circumstances, and among per-
sons who know how to train a conversation, there are
few, if any, amusements more grateful to the humau
mind. We need not say anythmg of the amusement
derived from reading. It is very properly one of the
standard amusements of persons of all ages. The
influence of the press on the character of a coantiy ia
not to be measured or calculated. It is strikingly true
of this admirable invention, aS it is of so many other
things in natural and moral aaency, that, well uted, it
is an inestimable blessbg; Ul used, the corrupting
demcn of social life. Happily, attention to the proper
wants of the young has required of the press its action
for their benefit ; not as to books of severer study only,
but sheets of amusement.

RELIOIOUS OBLIOATIORS.

Religion signifies a system of faith and worship. Be-
ligion arises from man's perception of his relation to the
system of being of which he is a necessary part. The
presence and influence of religion is to be felt and
manifested throughout the duration of human life, in
all that is thought and done, with a view to a hi^nier
and more perfect state of existence after death. Just
conceptions of the character and attributes of the Deity
are of the utmost importance, especially to the young,
whose minds require to be led aright in all that pertains
to the great truths of reli^on. The religion professed
in this country is Christianity — ^the most cheering, the
most noble of all faiths. The books to which we point
for instruction in the religion of Christ are those of the
Old and New Testament. To them the instructors of
the young will direct the religious studies of those under
their charge as may best seem fit. Besides inculcating
religious obligations, these works furnish us with ihe
most perfect system of moral duty ever promulgated.
The sum of the earliest delivered moral law is compre-
hended in the Ten Commandments, which are as fol-
low : — * 1. Thou shalt have no other gods before me. —
2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any sraven image,
or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above,
or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water
under the earth : Thou shalt not bow down thyself to
them, nor serve them: for I the Lobo thy Ood am a
jealous Qod, visitinff the iniquity of the fathers upon
the children imto the third and fourth generation of
them that hate me, and showing merqr unto thou-
sands of them that love me, and keep my command-
ments. — 3. Thou slialt not take the name of the Lord
thy Qod in vain ; for the LoM> will not hold him
guiltless that taketh his name in vain.— 4. Remember
the Sabbath-day, to ke^ it holy. Six days shalt thou
labour, and do all thy workt But the seventh day is
the Sabbath of the Lobd thy God; in it thou shalt not

479

oHAMBiBm mroBiUTioir fob thb fbople.

do nj worit, thou, nor thr md, nor thjr dMightor, tky
luan-Nnrant, nor thy ni»ia-a«Tuit, nor thy okttlo, nor
IhT ikranger th»t ii witUn U17 mtot: For in liz iajt
the Low made hwTon and euth, the Ma, and all that
in them ii, and rotted the MTonth day: wheiefoie the
Loud UeaNd the Sabbath-day, and hallowed it.— [By
the practice of Chrittiani, the Sabba<ih hsa been trani-
ferred to the fint day of the week.] — 5. Honour thy
fatiier and thy mother, that thy dave may be long upon
th9 land which the Lord thy God gireth thee. — 6. Thou
•halt not kill. — 7. Thou shalt not commit adulteij. —
8. Thvuihalt not iteal. — 9. Thou ihalt not bear falie
idtn'eie against thy neighbour.— 10. Thou ihalt not
coTet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not ooret thy
neighbour's wife, nor his man-serrant, nor his maid-
aerrant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is
thy neighbour's.'

Such was the sum of the moral law until Christ
added to it a number of the most transcendently ex-
cellent admonitions, and which rn found scattered
throughout the history of his minv^.rations in the four
Oomels in the New I'estament. The chief moral which
he inculcated was, ' Whatsoever ye would that men
should do unto you, eren so do unto them; for this is
the law and the prophets.' But the whole of his sayings
breathe a similar spirit of benevolence and nntleness.
He preached, for tne first time that it had oeen done
on earth, the doctrine of ' peace and good-will towards
men;' that is, universal love and peace among all man-
kind. ' Ye have heard,' said he, ' that it nath been
said, Thou shalt lore thy neighbour, utd hate thine
enemv: but I say unto you, lore your enemies : bless
them Ihat curse you : do sood to them that hate you :
and pray for them which despitefully use you and per-
secute Tou.* A(^ain, he (aid, ' Blessed are the poor in
spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven : blessed are
tney that mourn, for they shall be comforted : blessed
are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth : blessed
are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness,
for they shall be filled : blessed are the merciful, for
they shall obtain mennr: blessed are the pure in heart,
for they shall see God: blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called the children of God : blessed
are the^ which are persecuted for righteousness' sake,
for theurs is the kingdom of heaven : blessed are ye
when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall
•ay all manner of evil axainst you ialsely, for my sake.'
In this manner he taught the great necesuty for being
humble and lowly in s^rit, as the basis of all virtue and
social h^tpiness. He likewise inculcated at dififerent
timet the necessity of putting away eveivthing like
ostentation in doing good actions. He tells us not to
give our alms before men, but to bestow them in secret;
not to pray ottentatioutly in public, but in a private
pUoe. No one until he appeared ever pointed out
that there was no difierence betwixt actual transgres-
sion and the wish to transgress. He tells us that sins
of the heart are equallv punishable with the commis-
sion of an offisnoe. He likewise taught that men * can-
not serve two masters;' that is, do evil actions, however
apparently trivial, and at the wsmo time be good men.
To break * the least of the commandments ' is to be
redconed equivalent to breaking the whole; and it is
further said, it is impossible that our oblations to God
can be accepted of to long at we live at enmity with
a brother; that is, having a quarrel with any one.
' Leave thine ofiering before the altar, and go thy way:
first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and
offer thy gift. Agree with thine adversary quickly
whilst thou art in the way with him.' Who amongst
us, may we ask, keeps this taring in remembrancet
Bo even all who attend the public worship of God most
strictly and punctually hold it in mind I

Again, he says that we are equidly to avoid hypo-
crisy, or a pretence of self-righteoumett and ability to
ihow our neighbourt their faultt, before we have put
away the tame or other fanltc firom ourselves. ' Hy-
pocrite, first cast the beam out of thine own eye, and
then thou ihalt see clearly to oait out the fnote out of
MO

thy brother's eye. Judge not, that ya be not Judged.'
How valuable are these reproofii t Continuing to admo-
nith 01 of the danger of hypoorisv, he sayt tiiat we thall
know men by their flruitt; that it, we thall know them
by their aotiont, not their wordt. • A good tree cannot
bring forth evil fruit, neither can a ooirupt tree bring
forth good Ihiit: thereibre by their fhiita ye shall know
them. Not eveiy one that sayeth unto me. Lord, Lord,
shall enter into the kingdom of heaven: but he that
doeth the will of my Fatner which is in heaven.' We
are likewise told that there must be no stop to the extent
of our foigiving of ii^uries. Being asked if we should
forgive an injuiy for seven times, he said to those about
him, * I say not unto thee, until seven times, but until
seventv times seven ;' by which we are to understand
that there is to be no limit to our forgiveness. Three
thingi, we are told by St Paul, are essential — Faith,
Hope, and Charity, but that the greatest of these is
Charity, or a dimotition to think well of our neighbours
whatever may be their actions. It it alto variously
inculcated that charity is the first of the Christian
virtues. Personifying it, it is said, < Charity suffereth
long, and is kind ; charity envieth not ; charity vaunteth
not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself un-
seemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked,
thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth
in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things,
hopeth all tmngs, endureth all things.'

CONCLUSION.

We have now ^iven an elucidation of what we con-
sider to be the pnncipal dutiet we are called on to per-
form during life, both to ourselves and to others. The
subject is by no means exhausted, yet enough hat been
BMU to afford human beings a view of what line they
ought to follow in the pursuit of individual and social
happiness. The object we held in view has been acoom-
plisbed. We have, to the b€»t of our ability, put young
and old, hiah and low, rich and poor, in the way of
executing their temporal duties. We hope we have
shown tut if a man be not a happy, a grateful, a satis-
fied being, he must accuse himself, and not complain
that the system of beins to which he belongs is wrong
and malevolent. We nave attempted to prove that
man, individually and socially, it capable or improve-
ment; that he hat removed himtelf from hit original
condition, and has advanced far in ditclodng hit own
powert, and in applying them to the promotion of his
own happiness. But it has to be added, that he has
still much farther to go in the same course, that the
wav is known to him, and that there are no obstacles
in it which he may not remove. We do not believe in
the perfectibility of manUnd. The crimes and follies
which affect even the most cultivated of our race tell
us too plainly that there is a natural bias towards evil,
which it requires the utmost skill on the part of reli-
gion and reason to counteract. The passions ever seem
to stand as a barrier against human perfection, and it
is only by their due regulation that we can gain so
much as comparative worldly happinett. Yet it is
incalculable to what extent ^e exaltation of the mental
faculties may be carried by education, and to what ex-
tent the community may M purified of its vicet. Let us
hope that nothing may occur to interrupt that physical,
intellectual, and monl improvement of lociety whicli
it now to happily in the way of advancement.

NoTB.— Tho preoedlng article was an abstract firom the Monl
Class-Book of Mr WUIiam BuUlvan, a work published at Beaton
in the United States. The present it partly original, and partly
■elected from the Mune ptoduotion. Excellent as Mr Sullivan's
book is, it is singularly deHclent in the Inculcation of aomo of the
principal public dutiee, and la in many parta adapted only for
the perusal of American readers. The head* in the prawnt alicet
—Duties of Bul^ecta, as Electors, as Jurors, as Masters and
Berranto, Conduct at Public Meetings, Making a WtU, Misfor-
tunes and Evils, Inequality of Bank, Duties which the People of
one Countiy owe to those of Another, Duty of Trusting to Our-
selves, Reli^us Obligations, and Concluskm, arv original.

POLITICAL ECONOMY.

DXPINITIONS.

PouTiCAL EcoKOMT M the soienco which trntchei the
uuner in which nfttioni ud indiTiduals acquire wealth.

Wtalth ii anything which ii capable of gratifying
our deiiree, and of procuring for ua bjr exchange lome
other oMect of gratification. Some objects are capable
of gratifying our detires, but are incapable of procuring
for ui any other objects in exchange: such are air, the
light of the sun, and commonly water. Others are
capable not only of ^ratifying our desires, but of pro-
curing for us other objects in exchange: such are fuel,
cloth, salt, wheat, iron, money, &c. ft is only articles
of this latter class that are denominated wealth.

Vahu. — That quality in any object which renders
it capable of gratifying our desires is called its value.
Thus the ralue of air consists in iti power to support
life; the ralue of water consists in its capacity to slake
our thirst, and in its utility in the several purposes in
the arts ; the value of fuel consists in its capacity to
impart to us warmth, to cook our food, &c.

When this value is considered simply as a capacity
to gratify human desire, it is called intrituic value.

When it is considered as a capacity to procure for us
something else in exchange, political economists term
it exehat^mbh value.

Things which are eveiywhere abundant, and which
require no aid from human labour to render them
capable of ^tifying our desires, have only intrinsic
value. This u the case with air, the light of the sun, ke.

On the other hand, things which aerive their power
to gratify our desires from human labour, and which
are found only in particular places, have always ex-
changeable value. This is the case with articles of
food, clothing, metals, minerals, &c.

The reason why these latter have exchangeable value
is evident. If I, by my labour, give value to something
which had no value before, I have a right to the thing
in which this value resides. And inasmuch as I have
bestowed my labour upon it, I will not part with it for
nothing. Hence if any one wants it, he must offer me
in exchange something on which he has bestowed a
similar amount of labour, or else something which I
could not otherwise procure without bestowing upon
it an equal or a greater amount of labour. Thus if I
have spent an hour iu catching a fish, I will not give it
to my neighbour for nothing, or for cir, or sunlight,
which I can have for nothing. I will onl:' give it for
something which I could not procure with less than an
hoar's labour. And if he ofier me soiGetbin^ which I
oould procure with half an hour's labour, I shall not
exdtange, but shall prefer to procure for myself the
article which he oflbrs me.

And hence we see that when men exchange the pro-
ducts which they hare procured with each other, they
exchange labour for labour. Thus when men exchange
silver for gold, they pve a much larger amount of silver
than of gold, because it requires much more labour to
procure gold than it does to procure silver. Again, they
give a much laner amount of iron in exchange than of
silver, because Uie labour of procuring ulver is mudi
greater than the labour of procuring iron.

And hence we see that when men exchange with
each other, the exohangeaUe value of anything will be,
in general, as the labour which it costs to procure it.
Hence the out of anything, or its natural price, is the
labour which is neoessanr to produce it.

This, however, is liable to accidental and temporary
fluctuation. Sometimes a much larger quantity of a
given product is created. than is wanted. In this case
the owner, in order to induce persons to buy, will o%r
it at a less prioe than the cost, because he had rMher
No, 81.

sell it at a loss than lose it altogetlwr. When in thi»
case the supply is too abundant, the exchangeable
value will fall. On the other hand, when not enough,
of any given product has been created to supply tM
wants of the community, the buyers, rather thi^ be
deprived of it, will overbid each other, and thus will

Say more than the natural price: that is, when the
emand is unusvally great, the exchangeable value will
rise. These causes of fluctuation can, however, exial
but for short periods; and the constant tendency of the
exchangeable value of any ordinary product will be
towards the cost of the labour necessarv to create it.

Production is the act by which we give to any objeet
its particular value, or its particular capacity to gnAitj
human desire. Man can neither create nor annihilate
anything; he can only change the form of that which
is creatM. We cannot create iron, but we can extract
it from the ore; we can then convert it into steel; we
can change a bar of steel into iuiife-blades. Each of
these acts, by which a particular value is given to the
iron, is called an act of production.

The substance to which any value has t'tus been
imparted is termed a product.

Capital. — The term capital is applied to the material
before it has been changed by labour into a product;
to the instruments with which this change is eflTected;
to the means of subsistence by which the labourer is
supported; and also to the product which results ficom '
the application of labour to the raw material.

Exmange. — Every man finds it for his interest to
labour exclusively at one kind of production. Thus we
see that every man ha3 his own trade or profession.
But a man wants a great many other things besides
those which he produces himself. The shoemaker pro-
duces shoes ; but he cannot eat, or drink, or clothe him-
self with shoes. Hence he must exchange his shoes for
those articles which he needs. Every other man is in
the condition of the shoemaker. And hence we see
that an immenm amocnt of exchanees must be made
every day in every civilised community.

DirtrmUion. — Not only does every man work at a
particular trade — it is commonly the case that a great
many men must labour together in order to create a
particular product. Every penknife, nay, every pin,
goes through the hands of several workmen, and re-
ceives a portion of its value from every one of them.
When the product has been created, every one is en-
titled to his share of it. The principles by which this
division of the profits is made, is called by political
economists dtttHbutUm.

Coniumption, — Every product, after it has been
created, is put to some purpose. Sometimes it is used
for the creation of some other product — as wheat, when
it has been raised, is used for the purpose of making
flour; or again, it may be used for the simple purpose
of satisfying human desire — as bread, when it is eaten,
is used to appease our hunger. The destruction of
values in this manner is called eoiuumption.

The whole subj^t of Political Economy may there-
fore be comprehended under these four divisions — Pro-
duction, Exchange, Distribution, and Consumption.

I. PRODUCTION.

Produetion has already been defined as the act by
which we confer upon any object a value which it did
not possess before; or it is the application of bbour to
ct^tUal for the creation of a product.

CAFITAL.

Capital is the material which is to be united with
in4ustrT for the creation of a product, or the iiufru.

OHAMBEBra IHlOBMAnOV fOB fHl PBOFU.

( whiob M« Med bi iht •€» of pradnolion, or ^

twowMaWM tmd eoHvtnitHCM br whkh tho hauu of tho
kbounr i» lufteincd. SomoUmw Um Ubouwr tnia
tho matorUl in ito tuktiro lUto, M Uk« minn flndi tko
on or tho oo»I in ita n»tiTO bod; moit commonly,
howoror, bo reooirot it Atira another indiTidnal, who
kM ftlre*d7 conferred upon it lome ralue, ard it ia hit
Moupatiou to confer upon it additional worth.

The forme of capital are aa rarioua a* the diArant
oeeapatione of man. The aMltria/ of the fitnner ia aeed,
aanore, animals, ko.; thai of the maaufWctuier, cotton,
wool, iron, leather, Jcc; and that of the merchant, the
Tariooa lubstanoee in which he traffici.

Tho itubrtmumtM with which thete producen labour
ara jmj rarioua. The fiumer uiea plougbi, harrowe,
and carta; the mannfactuier, eawi, luumuere, and apin-
aing and wearing maohinee ; and the merchant, ahipa,
boata, locomotirei, and the like.

Beeidee theae, all men require for their MMttmnwe
fcod, elothina, ihelter, and the various oonTonienoee of
liA. Viewed in thii light, all capital majr be included
under one or the other of the followinc claaioi: —

Okat^ft* nfCaptlal. — Inasmuch as the labour of men
is eo unirenally employed in changing capital haring
one fbrm of value to capital having another form of
ralua, capital musi be incessantly undergoing changes.
It is no matter how many changes it undergoes, ii its
value be at every stage sufficiently increaaed to pay for
the labour which it cost to efbot the chan^.

Incrtate o/ Capital.— U a given material undergo a
change by which its value is increased, then there is an
increase of capital equal to the diffimtea between ite
former and its present value. I say equal to the dif-
ftrttue; because, in the creation of one value, another
value is always destroyed, and we are benefited, there-
fore, only by the superior amount of value which we
possess over that which we have consumed to produce
it. Thus the farmer consumee seed, manure, labour,
sustenance, in the production of a crop. Ho has changed
one kind of capital for another, and be is enriched just
by as much as his crop is of greater value than all that
it cost him to produce it.

Capital which is undergoing change by which ita
value is increased, or whien is Yielding an annual in-
come, is called jtnduetiM eapUJ. That which is lying
idle, and neither producing anything nor increasing in
value, is called unprodvctiM eofital.

Mmuff forms a small, but very important part of the
capital of all civilised nations. The use of monev is to
enable us the more easily to make exohanns with each
ether. That it forms but a small part of the ciqtital of
a country is evident fhtm the liact, that a very small
part of the wealth of any individual consists of money.
What is true of the separate individuals of a commu-
nity must be true of the community collectively.

Fixed and Cireulatitig Capital. — That capital ftom
which the owner derives profit by changing its form or
place, is called circulating capital ; while the various
mstruments which he urns to produce this change, and
from the use of which he derives profit, are fixed
capital. Thus the wheat and the manures of the farmer,
the wool and raw cotton of the manufacturer, are their
drculatinff capital; the ploughs, harrows, bam, and
land of the one, the machinery and buildings of the
other, are their respective fixed capitals.

There is a conHant tendencv in a prosperous condi-
tion of society to change circulatinx mto fixed capital.
The farmer sells his wheat, and with the produce buys
more Iwad and better tools, or erects better fences and
bams. The manufacturer, with his profits of this year,
enlarges his manufactory; and thus, in the progress of
society, vast sums are annually invested in roads, canals,
manufactories, and various means of improvement.

The beneficial result of this tendracy is easily seen.
Fixed capital is but slowly consumed, hence the wealth
of each generation is transmitted to the next; and,
year after year, a countnr becomes better and better

Srovided with the means for Aunishing itself with all
^e conveniences of life. The superior convenience! I
482

wUeh w« mtitf iu this eooatiy over Ihoea nivnd by
tho aborlglnea who long mo occupied it, ara owing en-
tlrdly to tha amomt of flzed capital which covers the
soil. It u thus that tho results of the industiy of men
are transmitted to their posterity, and that the mea of
any one age are enabled to reap advantage flrom the
skul, industry, and good conduct of the mea of all agea
who hare gone before them.

INDntBT.

Of the Natnrs and the dl(hrM|t Kinds o( Hmnaa Industiy.

Industrf is human exertion of any kind employed
for the creation of value.

If we consider the difiTerent kinds of value which it
is in the power of man to create, we shall see thai
human industry may be emploved in three different
wave. Matter may be changed m its cbauiitary /arm,
aa it is by the farmer when he plants seed and reaps
an increase; or in its OMngatt form, as when a car-
penter fashions a piece of^iurniture out of a log; or in
Its jrfaoe, as when a sailor carries it from one countiy
to another. The ultimate design of all human industiy
employed in production is to eflect either one or the
other of these results. They are frequently, for the sake
of distinction, denominateid agriculturaJ, maauftotur-
ing, and commercial industry.

It is evident that every one of these kinds of labour
is absolutely necessaiy, m order to promote the conve-
nience and happiness of man; and also that neither
one could prosper without the aid of the others. Were
there no agricultural labour, everybody would starve.
Were there no manufacturing labour, eveiybodv would
be chilled to death. Were there no labour employed in
transporting commodities from place to place, no one
could enjoy any convenience except what he had pro-
duced himself— that is, though wita great industiy and
suflerinff a few persons misht lire, yet they would be but
few,and these few would DO miserably poor. Hence we
may see how unwise it is for anv jealousv to exist be-
tween the fiurmer, the meohaiuc, and the merchant.
All are equally necessanr to eroh one, and each one is
necessary to both the others.

But some men are neither mechanics, nor farmers,
nor merohaats; they are studeata, or philosophers, or
lawyers, or physicians, or oleigymen. All of these
men, howerer, are necessary to society in ways that
must be generally obrious, and are as well entitled to
their rewards aa any other useful class.

Of the Jnorsaia of tiie PradootiveBeu of Homan todnstqr
liy the means of Natural Agonts.

By the productireness of human industiy we mean
the amount of product which a human being in a gireu
time can create. Thus if a fiumer by one day's labour
e\n raise one bushel of wheat, the productireness of his
labour is equal to one bushel; if he can, with the same
labour, raise two bushels, the productireness of his
labour is equal to two bushels. If a cotton-spinner can
spin one pound of cotton in a day, this is the amount of
the productiveness of his labour; if he can spih teu
pounds, this is tho amount of it.

Now it is evident that the greater the productive-
ness of labour, the better is it for the industrious person
and for all his neighbours. Every one knows that it
is better for a farmer to own rich than to own poor
land, because with a year's labour on the one he can
obtain a much lar|;er crop than on the other. It is,
moreover, better ror him that his neighbours alio
should have rich than poor land, because the richer
their land, the larger quantity of tMtw products will
they be able to give him in exchange for A<« products.
The ^reat difl^renoe, therefore, between rich and poor
land IS, that rich land renders industry more preduetive
than poor land.

The case is the same with the other modes of industry.
He who spins with bis fingers without anv machine
labours very unproduotively^-that is, in a day he can
craata bat a small product : he who labours with a

POUnOAL BOONOHt.

I owug tn-
li ooT«n tht
uttryofmm
the mm of
gefrom th«
aof»Usgu

Blnduitnr.
id ntploytd

lu« which ik
lall IN thM
re* diffnwnl
mtary/orm,
d uia iwpa
whtn a o»r-
a log; or in
on* oounttj
aut indiutiy
r one or the
,forth«iaka
manafiMtur<

idf of labour

» th« OOIITO-

that nmther
thon. Were
rould itarre.
jrbody would
employed in
plaoei no one
he had pro-
induitiy and
would be but
ir. Hence we
r to exiit be-
merobant.
one ii

nor farmen,
'oeophen, or
of thew
ways that
11 entitled to

tlBdnrtqr

we mean

in a given

%j'» labour

renoM of hii

tth the same

of bia

pinner can

I amount of

■pin tea

IproduetiTe-

Sioui perton

|owi that it

own poor

lone he can

her. It is,

libourt alio

the richer

lueti will

I product!.

and poor

iprwhuHifM

pf industry,
machine

^ay he can
with a

■^iiiilBf>wlMel, laboan mneh more produotlTely— that
it, with a day's labour he can create a much larger
Mnount of product : and he who usee a still better
machine, caUed a spbning'jenny, labours yet more pro-
duetiTelT— 4hat b, in a day he can create twenty or a
hundred times as much product as he could with a
spinning-wheel. In every case, as the productivenese
of labour increases, both the labourer and the commu-
nity are benefited, just as a farmer would bo benefited
by exchanging a poor soil for a rich one. In both cases
the benefit is the same— that is, with a given amount
of labour he creates a larger amount or product, he
receives better waoes for us labour, and at the same
time the oommunltv obtains his product at a cheaper
rate. Hence it is that mankind have been, from the
earliest ages, endeavouring to invent means by which
the produetivenese of human labour may be increased.
Ana the condition of mankind is improved, ilrom time
to time, just in proportion as these endeavours have
been made succesrfully. Every one knows how much
the comforts of an industrious mechanic in this coun-
try exceed those of an uncivilised Indian; and the
duTerence is owing to the fact, that the labour of the
one is to mvek more pnduetive thwa that of the other.
Now there are two ways in which the produetive-
nese of human industir may be increased : these are,
first, the iw« of natural agtntt f and, seoondlyi dMrion
tf kibom: Let us explain »—

Use o< Natnrel AfSBta.

A natural agent is, as its name imports, an agent of
nature, or any quality of things which we are able to use
in order to accomplish our purposes. Thus it is of the
nature of wood, when set on fire, to give off heat, and
heat is the natural agent which we use for the purpose
of cooking our food. It is of the nature of steam, when
heated, to expand, and when suddenly cooled, to con-
tract; hence steam is the natural agent by whose al-
ternate expansion and contraction we create the force
whidi we need to propel boats or machinery. So it is
of the nature of water, when filling down from an ele-
vation, to acquire a very considerable force; this force
is the natural agent which we use to turn the wheel of
a mill. So the peculiar quality of the magnet is a
natural agent. The various qualities of medicinal
herbs are also natural agents, though used for a diffe-
rent purpose from those mentioned above.

A tool or a machine is any instrument by which we
ate enabled to avail ourselves of the qualities of natural
agents. Thus an axe is an instrument by means of
triiich we make use of the cutting power of iron. A
steam-engine is an instrument by which we make use
of the expansive and contractile quality of steam.

In political economy, the principal use of natural
agents is either to create or to use power or force, or,
u we sometimes call it, momentum. Thus if a man
wishes to row a boat, or chop wood with an axe, he
must have strength or power with which to do it. The
more strength or power he has, the more work he can
do. Thus a man can do more work than a boy because
he has more strength, or power, or force, to do it with.
Now natural agents are capable of exerting this power,
and bv means of machineir we can direct the manner
in which it shall be exerted.

The natural agents which we use for this purpose are
of two kinds, anunate and inanimate : —

Animate natural agents are beasts of burthen and
draught — as the ox, the horse, the ass, the camel, the
elephant, and other animals similarly employed.

That these very greatly increase the productiveness
of human labour is evident. Every one knows how
much more land a fturmer can cultivate by means of a
pair of horses than he could by his own unassisted
strength, and how much more whjiat a man can trans-
port nom one place to another with a wagon and horse
than he could carry on his back.

The inanimate natural agents are, aa we have said,
the various qualities and powers of things by which we
are enabled to accomplish our puiposee. The most im

portant and familiar of these are gunpowdar, w^nd,
falling water, and steam.

Ottnpowkr is used in war, ia hunting, and in the
blastlnc of rocks. For the latter purpose it ia vary
valuable in the conatraction of canals, railways, Jtc.

Wittd ia used as a stationary agent in the eommoa
windmill; and as a locomotive agent in the propelling
of vesaela on the water. It ia cheap, and for aome
purposes very valuable.

Palling tfoter is used very extensively as a atationan

Xt in almoat all worka where great power ia required.
ost all our nails an made, our wheat is ground,
and much of our ootton is spun and woven by water.

Steam, however, is now used the most extensively for
the various purposes of the arts, aa it posseaaea many
advantagea over every other agent. It ia capable of
exerting any dMree of force, from the least to the
greatest; it mavbeused as a stationary or a locomotive

Kwer; it may boused on land or on water, and it may
placed penectly under human control. Its only dis-
advantage is its expensiveneis. Steam is now used to
spin the finest thread and the atoutest cable, to weave
mualina and to hammer anchora, to propel the largeat
▼eaaela on our rivers and on the ocean, to draw our
carriages, to saw and plane our boards, and in fact to
accomplish almost all the purposes which require rtther
great or unremitted force (See No. 25, Vol. 1.).

Inanimate agents are in general preferable to ani-
mate a^nta in most of the purposes for which power
is required. The reason of this will be readily com-
prehended. For instance—

1. ITug are cheaper. A steam-engine of a hundred
horse-power will cost leta than the horses neceasary to
do the labour which it performa, and will coat much
less to keep it at work.

2. They labour totthout eeieation, while animals re-
quire much time for rest and refreshment.

8. TTuy are sttfer. Tbev have no passions, and hence
may be ^vemed by fixed and certain laws. A steam
locomotive, for example, u neither liable to run away
nor be frightened.

4. We ean ute tltem withotU the infliction t^ pain,
while animals frequently, of necessity, suffer in conse-
quence of hard laoour or rapid driving.

5. They are capable of much more rapid action, hence
there is a great economy of human time.

But this is not all. Men are able not only by the
above means to create force, they are also able to de-
vise machines by which the force thus created may be
applie-1. Thus after a steam-boiler and cylinder have
been constructed, we are able to create a force by meana
of steam ; but we still need levers, and wheels, and
cranks, in -yci-vt to enable us to use it. When we have
trained hors -^ to draw, we still need wagons to enable
them to draw with. All these machines, by which force
is directed, are the various modifications of what are
called in philosophy the mechanical powers. And bv
means of them we are enabled to wield the foree which
we have created in any manner that we choose.

Besides these agents for the creation of force, there
are various other qualities of things which are of very
great UK in the purposes of human life. Thus, for in-
stance, some of the metals, when heated, readily melt;
and if in this state they are poured into a mould, they
retain the shape of the mould with perfect precision.
In this manner much human labour ia saved, or a ^ven
amount of labour is rendered much more productive.
Were it not for this quality of type-metal, every type
must be cut' by the hand. This would render types and
books very expensive. But now we have only to cut a
mould into the form that we widi, and if the melted
metal be poured into it, the type is formed, by cooling,
into tho precisely corresponding figure. In this manner
a single workman can make several hundred Upea in
an hour. There are varioua other qualitiea of thin^
which we use in a simUar manner, but their number is
80 great that we have no room here to describe them.
By reflection, every person may easily furnish himself
I with as many examples as he pleases.

483

oBAMBum nfouanov voi thi pioru.

PlfiikaafUboaA

In th« piMfdiBg metittM w h»n Mm that tha pro-
duetlTMWi of hutuMt labovr vmj b* giwtlr inoNHad,
fnt, bv dlioovariiif tha tmIoui qu»UtiM of thlnos, or,
apaoUUy, tboar quaUtiM by whtoh wa tn capaBla of
craaUng fotoe ; aud, Meandfy, by tboaa rarioua oontrif-
anoaa by wbicb tba forca thu* orcatad may ba luocaM-
fully diractad and appliad. Wa hara one other louroa
of incraaaad produottTonaaa yet to coniider — it ii divi-
(lon of labour— and iti reiulta ar« in many caaaa aa
•trikinc aa any that hara been noticed.

OiTiuon of labour, in ganaral, maana employing one
indiridual upon ona kind of labour, iuitaad of employ-
ing tha aama individual upon leTaral kinda of labour.
If w« laflact, wa shall laa that tkit oiroumatanoe forma
ona of tha leading diitbotions between laTUa and
civiliaad natioua. A laTaga doei for himialf wutaTar
ha requires to have done. He is his own philosopher,
inTentor, and oparatiTe; his own farmer, butcher, baker,
ahoaroaker, tailor, carpenter, &o. And the result is,
that he is ignorant, hungry, shelterless, almost naked;
and that he continuea age afVer age without making
any sensible improrement. On the contrary, ciTilised
men divide these Tarious occupations, so that one man
labours wholly in ona, and another man laboura whollT
in another employment ; and the result is, that ciTi-
lised men, without labouring more than savages, easily
obtain oonveniant shelter, clothing, food, and all the
necessaries of life.

But still more. Every one who observes any mecha-
nical process, observes that it consists of several parts.
For instance, in order to make a knife, the blade must
be formed and then poliahad, the handle must be formed
in several pieces, the rivets must be made to connect
these severikl pieces together ; and after these several
pieces have been formml and prepared for each other,
they must be united toother mto a knife. Now what
is commonly called division of labour in political eco-
nomy, consists in so apportioning this work that one
person shall labour at only one part of any proceia.

The division of labour in this manner is found to
have a much greater eflact upon the productiveness of
human industry than could possibly have been sup-
posed. Every man who labours at a trade adopts this
plan in part, if a cabinet-maker, for example, have a
docen tables to make, he will make all the legs of all
the tablea at once, then all the covers, be. and when
all have been prepared, he will put them all together.
And if several men were to unite and make nothing
but tables, and each one perform but one part of the
labour, they could make a great many more tables in
a ^ven time than if each one made a whole table.

The principal reasons for this increaaed productive-
ness are as follow: —

1. It saves the loss of time and skill, which must re-
sult from frequently passing from one occupation to
another. After a man has laboured for some time at
one thing, he is said to hare ' got his hand in,' and he
performs the operation with ease and skill. If he turns
to a different occupation, his ' hand is out,' and he
cannot perform it so well. Hence all the time con-
sumed in acquiring the habit is lost.

2. When a variety of operations is to be performed
by tlie same individual, he must frequently adjust his
tools, or pass from the use of one kind of tools to the
use of another. This occasions a great waste of time.
By performing the same operation continuously, the
same tools with the same adjustment will -answer the
same purpose perpetually. This is specially the case
where the a«yustment of tools requires, not only time
but expense, as, for instance, in the use of the black-
smith's furnace. If the smith heat it, and leave it for
the purpose of doing some other work, all the fuel con-
sumed after he leaves it, aa well aa that necessary to
bring it again to its proper temperature, is lost.

3. When men confine themselves to a single opera-
tion, they acquire a degree of dexterity and skill which
could be acquired in no other manner. A man who I

484

only oMftrionally naksa nails, mav make abeni 800 or
1000 in a dayt while a boy who aas never dona any>
thing else, will make upwuds of 2900 in a day.

4. Division of labour sKnasIa the invention of tools
and maohlnas, by whieh Uboar may ba rendered still
mora productive. As soon aa an operation is analysed
into its simple processes, it is oomparatlTaly easy to
contrive some way in which to Deriorm either one or
all of these processes by a roaonine. It would have
reottired great skill to construct a machine for making
nails before the process waa analysed; but let it bo
divided into rolling, cuttipg, and heading, and it is
comparatively easy to construct instruments by which
each of these processes may bo accomplished.

A. There is great diversity in the talent required for
performing the various parts of a process. Soma parts
of the operation require great dexterity, and a long
course of^eduoation ; others can be performed by women,
and even by children, with Tenr little training. Some
parta may require labour worth four or five shillings,
while others can bo executed by labour worth no more
than a few pence per day. Mow without division of
labour, all the processes mtist be performed br labour
at the highest price. By iudicious division of labour,
the manufacturer can employ Just the amount and just
the kind of labour that he needs. This greatly reduces
the cost of production.

The effect of all this is seen in the verr low price at
which almost all the articles of general use mav be
obtained. For instance, suppose a lady in New York
wanted a doien needles, and applied to a jewoller or
other workman to have them mado for her, she could
not obtain them at much leas than a shilling a piece.
But needles are imported into that city from a British
maimfacturing town, and sold at qbout four for a half-
penny of our money, notwithstanding all the cost of
transportation: and this entirely through the advantage
derived from the division of labour.

1. But to this division of labour thero is a natural
limit. This limit depends upon several circumstances.
For instance, a given process consists of no more than
a certain numW of operations. When it has been
divided into as many parts aa there are distinct pro-
cesses, and one part is assigned to each individual, this
is as flw as division of labour can go. There would be
no economy in any farther division.

2. Again, the practicability of division of labour de-
pends upon the capital of an individual or uf a coun-
try. A man must have accumulated some considerable
amount of capital before ho can cany on division of
labour in any occupation. For instance, suppose that
the division requires the labour of ten men, he muat
have materials and tools sufficient to employ ten hands.
Nor is this all : suppose that it take ten days to finish
his product, he must have material sufficient to employ
them during all this time before he receives anything
in return for that product. And if it take a fortnight
more before he is able to sell hia goods and obtain a
fresh stock of material, he must have a capital sufii-
cient to employ them during this time also. It is for
this reason that manufactures do not commence with
the first settlement of a country, but they must always
be delayed until capital accumulates before they can
bo sucooMfully established.

3. Division of labour can only bo carried on where
there is sufficient demand for a product to consume it
as fast as it is manufitctured. If it would take ttn men
to manufacture pins by division of labour, but only so
manv pins could bo sold aa could bo made by one man,
the labour could not bo divided. This, however, de-
ponds upon several other circumstances. For instance,
the demand depends upon the number and the wealth
of a community. Thero is a larger demand for hats
in a town of ten thousand inhabitants than in a village
of one hundred inhabitants. There is also a greater
demand for hats among a thousand rich men thait
among a thousand bwgars. This is another reason wliy
division of labour anamanufaoturea naturally increase
with the growth, and age, and woalth of any country,

t^UTIOAL feOOKOMT.

Mk« kbeut 8M of
n«T«rdoM my-
) in % dftjr.
luTMitioii of tools
U rtndmd itUl
utlon U ukljMd
AntiToly tMjr to
tnn olthtr on* or
. It would half
tchino for nuking
id; bat Ut it b«
loading. Mid it ii
ramontt bjr which
ipliahod.

Mont required for
coiB. 8omo parti
erity, and a long
formed by women,
le training. Some
r or Ato ihillingt,
>ur worth no more
'ithout diriiion of
irformed hj labour
division of labour,
e amount and Jutt
his greatly reduces

» Terr low price at
ineral use mav be
lady in New York
d to a jeweller or
for her, she could
a shilling a piece,
dty from a British
out four for a half-
ing all the cost of
)ugh the adrantage

there is a natural
oral circumstances.
■ of no more than
K^hen it has been
) ai« distinct prO'
ich indiTidual, this
There would be

ision of labour de-
dual or uf a coun-
some considerable
.ny on dirision of
ice, suppose that
in men, he must
employ ten hands,
ten days to finish
ifficient to employ
receives anything
i iakt a fortnight
and obtain a
e a capital suffi-
e also. It is for
t commence with
|they must always
before they can

learned on where
net to oonsuine it
luld take ten men
^bour, but only so
nade by one man,
however, de-
For instance,
' and the wealth
I demand for hats
Ithan in p. village
|is also a greater
rich men than
lother reason why
|atutttlly increase
of any country,

Aad h«M* «• SM why roads, MBab, and ikilwayt
an so beneflelal to the Industry of a eountry, By i«-
dueing the cost of transportation, they render the prioe
of any commodity a* low at one hundred miles distance
as it ft«qu«ntly was before at ten miles distance Afom
the plaao of its manufacture. Hence ihcUity of trans-
port inowassi the number of consumers, and by thus
Ins r eas ln g the demand, renders praetici^le the division
of labour in cases where before it waa Impracticable.

Again, it is evident that demand most be greatly
afliMted by the cost of the article manufactured. Costly
articles an purchased only by the rich. But the rich
an onlv a small part of the communitv. Hence the
demand for such articleo is but sroall. It is those
articlss which every one wants, and which everv one can
buy, that create such a demand as will enable them
to be made at the cheapest possible rate. Hence we
see that division of labour, and the redaction of prioe
which it oooasions, benefits the poor much men than it
does the rich. I do not suppose that Jewellery, trinkets,
rich laces, an mueh, if at all, cheaper than Uiey wen
twenty or thirty yean ago; while cotton cloth, hard-
wan, woollen goods, and all the manufactured neces-
saries of life, have fallen in prioe ftom one-half to three-
fourths. This is an immense benefit to those of us who
an obliged to spend our monev for necessarios and
comforts, and have none to spend for trinkets.

Of tho Bsoeflu of Increaied ProduotiTeueM of Labour.

The prime object of labour, as every one knows, is to
procun the means of happiness. A farmer laboun to
produce wheat, rye, fruits, be.; a cotton manufactunr
to produce clothing, and a shoemaker to produce shoes,
ana so of any other case.

Now the greater the productiveness of labour, the
greater an the means of happiness which the individual
by a given amount of labour produces. If a farmer
expend a year's labour upon a rich soil, his labour is
roon productive than if ae expended it upon a poor
soil; that is, with the same labour, he produces in one
case say five hundred bushels of wheat, and in the
other case only two hundred bushels. Every one must
see that this is an advantage; and every one would
nther own one hundred acres of good soil than one
hundred acns of poor soil.

Now if a poor soil can, by means of manun, or in
any other manner, be changed into a fertile one, the
result is the same as if, bv means of improved tools, a
farmer wen able by one day's labour to produce twice
as much as he could produce befon.

Now this principle applies just as much to a manu-
factunr or any otner labourer as to a farmer. Sup-
pose a carpenter, when he first commences learning his
trade, could not make mon than one table in a week,
his labour would be very unproductive. As he becomes
mon and mon skilful, he can make a table in less
time; and at last, when he can moke a table in a day,
his labour is six times as productive as it was before,
and he has the means of procuring for himself six times
as many comforts with the same amount of labour.
Further, if he be able, by means of a turning-lathe, or
a steam-engine, or by division of labour, to make two
tables a dav, his labour will be still mon productive,
and he will be able to procun for himself a com-
sponding greater amount of conveniences.

So if men spun by hand and wove by hand, wen this
powible, a man could produce but very little thread
and very little cloth. His labour would be in the lowest
degree unproductive. But if he invent a spinning-wheel
and a loom, his labour becomes at once vastly more
valuable, and he can produce ten or twenty times as
much as he could before, and he is able to provide him-
self with a much gnater portion of the necessaries and
comforts of life. If now we furnish him with a spin-
ning-jenny and a power-loom, his labour will be still
mon productive; and as he creates, with i^ given amount
of labour, a greater amount of the means of happiness,
a iMger portion will fall to his own share — th»t is,
he will be both richer and happier. And facts demon-

strate that sHoh hai alwm bssn ths nsall. Tbs
labour of ths Western Indiui or ths Eastsm Hindoo
is without maehlnsry and witboat division, and It is
of course vsry unpfoductivs. Hsnes ht is very poor.
The whole wealth of the Indian b a blaakst and a
bow and anows, and ths whols wsnlth of ft Hindoo Is
ft pot of ries and a cotton cloth. How dlAnnt Is ths
condition of ths laboursr In this countr* I

And ws also sss that It Is not bsnsfloial msniv for
ons individual to inorsass ths prodactlvsnsss oi his
labour; It Is bsneflciid to the wnole community thai
ths sum-total of industry should be as produetivs u
possibls. Would it not bs a bsnsfit if ths crops of com,
and whsat, and cotton, and ries, ths products of ths
fishsriss, of ths mines, and of the manufactories. duriM
ths nsxt year, should with the same labour be doableo,
so that we might b; ' '

ty a day's labour procun twice as
fuel, clothing, and every nso s ssa r y

much bread-stuffs,

and comfort of life, u we an abls'to procun at prsssnt'l
Now ths whols elftct of the inorsased productiveness of
labour, by means of machinery and of division of labour.
Is to bring about procisely such a result.

And yet more — the benefit of this change is specially
nalised by the labouring-classes. A nobleman in Great
Britain is by no means as much better off than his
ancestor, as a common labounr in England now Is
bstter off than a serf at the period of the feudal opprts-
sion and ignorance. The ricn and powerful in all coun-
tries always have an abundance of comforts and luxaries.
Comparatively, they an but slightly benefited by im-

Iirovement in the productiveness of labour. It is the
abounr who is chiefly benefited, because every im-
provement brings within his power some convenisnos
which was befon out of his reach. What difference
does it make to a roan worth a hundnd thousand
a year whether coal costs one or five pounds a ton, and
cotton cloth fourpence or two shillings a yardt At
either price he would be able to procure an abundance.
But to the man who is worth but fifty or a hundred
pounds a year, the diffennce of price is a matter of
immense consequence; inasmuch as at one price he
would be able to supply himself abundantly, and at
the other prise he would be able to supply himself
but very scantily, if he wen able, indeed, to supply
himself at all. Hence we affirm that improvements
in machinery, by which the productiveness of labour
is increased, an specially for the benefit of those classes
who an obliged to work for their living.

The only objection to all this is, that by incnasins
the productiveness of labour we diminish the demana
for labour, and that hence labounn an thrown out of
employment. This deservee a brief consideration, inas-
much as it has led not only to erroneous views in theory,
but to practical wickedness in action.

To settle this question, let us examine the facts.
What are the manufactures which now employ the
cnatest number of workmen, and in which tiie num-
ber of workmen has within the last twenty yean the
most rapidly increased t I think that any one will
answer, the cotton and the iron manufactures. But if
we were asked in which branches of manufactures has
labour-saving machinery been most extensively intro-
duced 1 we must also answer, the cotton and the iron
manufactures. Or we may come to the same nsult if
we compare the linen w.th the cotton manufacture.
Machinery has been introduced only iu a small degree
into the manufacture of the one, nnd very extensively
introduced into that of the other. The consequence is,
that the labourers in linen are very poorly paid, and
are diminishin| in number, while the labounn in cot-
ton are well paid, and are every year rapidly increasing.
These facts are abundantly sufficient to teach any per-
son what is the natural resiilt of the use of machinery.
The reason of this is easily seen. Suppose that only
10,000 yards of cotton could be uttd in a siven district,
and it required 100 men to make them. If these 10,000
yards could be made by 50 men, it is evident that 50
men would be thrown out of work. But suppose that
by this change in the mod« of labour, tho cotton cloth

485

oBAKBUM tntaawnoa lot fm norti.

wkkliwM Mid MSlhtMMW MM •»]«.•• tiM* Mm
M« MtmtUf avM U rtmi. Mid W.uM yMfda ww*
wmM, tl»«« woald to m drawad Ibr JvH 11m mom buiiu
bar of workman ■■ hufon, w tkal wo worknukn would
bo Joit M woU off M ho WM bofora. Bat MppoM Ikat
whon ootton wm »l 9i. » jvi, onljr IhoM worth lEllOO
» yeor eould oflbrd to purchMo it» whUo now that it
li »l If., thooo worth only iClOO por Minuin oan booomo
l^rehMon. Tho numbwr of pononi In % eommunity
WOTth iCiOO a roar if moro than doublo that of thoM
worth 1(300. Honoo thii olaM alono would ortato a
domand which would plaoo tho labouror in at food cir-
ovmitaneoi aa ho wai boforo. But to thia moat bo
addad tho domand of thoao worth £130, 4150, and
4300 ; and it muat bo romarobored that aaeh ono of
thoao elaaaoa will now uao moro cotton cloth than tho
elaaa of £300 did formarlr. To thia muat alao bo addod
tho fact, that bjr (ho roJuetion of price, cotton cloth
may bo uaod for many purnoaaa to which it could not
furmarly hare been appliod. All thoao ciroumatanoea
taken intu the account, will ahow ua how it ia that the
greater the proiluctireneaa of Induatry, the greater will
DO tho wagea of labour; and that the more eitenairely
labour.aftrinj; machinery ia introduced into any depart-
ment, the greater will bo tho demand for labourera.

But thia ia not all. While the labourer ia thua benr-
flted in hia wa^^ea by the uae of machinery, he, and
OTory other peraoii, ia equally benefited ui another
roapeot. We hare aeen that by thia meana erery pro-
duct ia rendered cheaper. Rrery one kuowa how much
ehoaper woollen and cotton gooda, carpeta, booka, and
moat of tho neceaiariea of life are than ther were a few
Toara aince. Not only are they cheaper, ther are alao
■letter and more elejrant. Calicoea, crockery, the rarioua
fabrica for wearing •pparel. paper-banginga, and many
other thinga, may be procured at a very reaaonable

8 rice, and of great beauty of appearance. Theae bene-
ta the labourer aharea with the reat of the community.
Hence hia ahare of the advantage ia doubled, lila
wagea are raiaed, and the price of whot ho purchaaea
with them ia reduced. The rich man receirca no higher
intereat for hia money than before — that ia, hia wasea
remain tho aame : hia only adrantoge ia, that with the
■ame money he can procure what ho 'vnuu at a cheaper
lato, or in greater abundance.

or THI CONDITIONS OP SOTU;! V ^ATOUKiBLI TO

PRODucrn t Nusi,

It ia eaaential to tho prntuution of induatry that a
man ahould enjoy the reward of hia labour. Erery
man muat be allowed to labour aa diligently aa he can,
and to uao aa he pleaaee all that ho naa gained, pro-
Tided that he uao it innocently.

For theae purpoaea it ia iieceaaary that all the pro-
perty in a community be diriderl. By thia it ia meant
that orerything belonga ezcluairely to aome one. In
the fint place, the land muat belong to particular per-
wna, otherwiao it will not be tilled at all. We aee
thia principle itrilcingly illuatrated in the condition of
a country inhabited by aaragca, and also in the atate of
moat eommoiM, whererer theae exiat. No one baring
any particular intereat in the cultirr <' n of any part of
a country occupied by aavagu tribea, uo part ia culti-
Tated. Were any one to cultirato a patch of auch land,
he might hare hia right to the crop diaputed, and loae
the benefit of hia labour. It ia impoaaible for men to
exert induatry under auch circuniatancea. With a
•o.-nmon, again, no one haa ao great an interest aa to
iitd.ice him to keep the ground in order; hence auch
piC' au of fTound generally become nearly waate and
nadei;: The priuoipl) may be atill more familiarly
illua-ra <.-" — ^up-jio a cbe.iy-tree ^wing in a hedge-
rrrr, ai'il m, c ' property 'i particular. No peraon
wil! >xi at ^ . , !<aii>a to pniM'.t the young fruit of that
{'Tit fkCiJ iCi nirda by m u/ta of network; and everr
cKi'-.r-y wLi .> .he birda upaitf will bo taken before it la
rip by idl«i children. There will be no public benefit
oir any kbd from auch a cherry-tree. But auppoae tho
troe to become aomebody's property. It will theu be
496

mn4 hi Md ptotoctodi ilMfraUwIU UalloiMdlo
ripoa, and hMomo ia duo lima a mon* of M^loymMl
«■ fltt aa 11 will go.

It li not aaough that pnpoHy ba dirtdadt tka Hglu
of propaity muat alao ba pnitttd. By the right of
I'roparty, wa maan tha right whlah any man haa oror
what ia Ikia own. Thai if a man maJia a table out of
hia own matortala, ho haa a right to kaau that ta^' <^r
10 aall it, or to uao It aa ho plaaaaa, and no one a

right to take it ftom him, or n.olaat him ia aur man-
ner in tho uae of it. And It ia tho aamo uing if
ho have bought tha table, or pioourad it in any houaat
mauner by eiohange.

Now it ia tha buairi la of arary man In tha oommn-
nity to aaa that no man IntarfSirea with any other mau'a
property. Thia ia what wa tal<. tha protection of the
right of property. Tha whole community hare oom-
mlttad thia power to the legialatoia, Judgoa, Ito. who
aro called tho gorammant. Henoa wa aaa that it la tha
apecial bualnoaa of goremmant to protect Indlriduala
from riolatlon of tho right of property.

The right of property may bo r iolatod br Miv ''' « '«
aa in the oaaea of robbing, atealing, houjoDrr ' 'n '
Were thia allowed, no one would labour ah hi. <>' . >
no one would labour for tho aaka of aoei t'la pr< i^art^
plundered and waated by thierea a'nl i <>ibori. The
cuie ia tho aamo when property ia v't*» ' ''"■'^ ' de-
atroyed by moba. If a man wo '<l rut labour j r the
aake of aeeing hia propert; deatr" ' y ona robbei, he
would not labour any the mnr i« aake of aeeing

hia property deatroyed 1'/ fire hu'i<lred robbort.

Henoe it ia clear lii<<' tho induatrr of a <.ou>-cr> de-
penda rery greatly u^wn thegoodneaa of iln lawa and the
faithful execution ,( them. If lawa allow of violation
of property, all men would aoon bocome thieret inatead
of labourera; anu u thiering producca nothing, there
vould aoon be nothing left to ateal,aiid all would atarre.
And if the lawa bo not put int' ext ;ution, there might
aa well be no lawa, and tho iekuU would be the aame.

But goremmenta themaelrea aometimea riolato the
right of property. Thia ia the caao when, by the mere
will of the goremment, the property of the iudiridual
ia taken for any purpoae whataoerer. Such ia the caae
in many deapotio goremmenta. When thia ia the caae,
a people becomea at once diapirited and indolent. Who
would labour on the aoil through a whole aummer, if
ho knew that he waa liable to buare hia harreat aeixed
in tho autumn by a tyrant aa aoon aa it waa fit to bo
gatheredl Thua we aee that the moat fertile rogiona of
the earth, when under auch a goremment, lie almoat
uncttltirated ; the inhabitanta are few, and theae few
are extremely poor and apiritleaa. Hence the impor-
tance of a good conititution of goremment.

But auppoae that every man be allowed to gain all
that he can, he muat alao be allowed to uae </ oa A« will.
Thia ia evident, becauae no man will be induatrioua to
gain propertr, unleaa he be allowed to uae it for the
promotion of hit own happineaa in auch way aa he likes
Deat. A man'a propertr are hia facultiea of body and
mind, < hia iioana of induatry, and hia propr>rty or
capita' . '- • " MJ, in order to render inc-i indua-
trioua, ♦'■%t •'.> ,. 1. 1 ■'"wedjpro'-' " ' ' jy do it honeatly,
to ua* ) ',i. "-. I '■«•. . they choo. .

Fo. . J, th. labourer ahould be allowed to work

at any trade or aa many tradea aa he pleaaea, to work
in any place that he chooses, and to change hia occu-
pation whcnerer he auppoaea it can ba done for his
adrantage ; be ahould alao not be obliged to change it
unlesa he beliere auch change will bo for hia benefit. It
ia to be auppoaed that erery one underatanda hia own
buaineaa better thou any one elae can undentand it for
him, and therefore to oblige him to make any change
contrary to hia ovm wishes will do him an injury, and
an injury which ia wholly without ezcuae.

And the aame it true cf eapiuH. Erery man that
owna anything haa a right to uae it at he pleaaea. No
one, whether an indiridual or a goremment, haa any
right to direct him in tho manner in which he shall
amploy it. A fanner haa a right to raise just such a

rotmoAi woiroiiT.

Ill b«*ll«w«lta

llTUUdt tka rigkt
By Ik* rlf hi vf

ay BUM hM OT«r
tk« » l«bl« out of
iMu tkftl tot'^'^ or
•aa no one ■ •
him ia uty iumi*
Im Mun* Ming if
I U in aaj koaMi

an in iho oommn-
h any othor raaa'i
protootion of iko
nunlty have oom-
^ JudgM, kc. who
■ MO that it U the
iTotoot indirlduali

lhT<IM
lJ«Drr

lioujobrr '"'I

our a^' at. " '

Moi Hipr.,i«rt;

lid i^obori. Tho
)l«n I '«U ' d«.
rot labour i r the
^ one robbei , he
\4 take of lening
•d I'obbon .
f of a .,ouuir> de-
I of 114 law* and the
allow of violation
ime tbieTCi initead
icct iiothiiii;, there
id all would itarre.
nitlon, there might
)uld be the laine.
letimes violate the
hen, by the mere
of the Individual
Such it the caie
|en thii ii the caie,
d indolent. Who
whole summer, if
his harvest seiied
it was fit to bo
i fertile regions of
ment, lie almost
w, and these few
euce the impor-
ment.

llowed to gain all

|to uieU ailu teill,

be industrious to

to use it for the

ih way as he likes

|lties of body and

his property ot

iiider inc: indus-

[' jy do it honestly,

I allowed to work
J pleases, to work
[change his occu-
be done for hit
Kged to change it
for his benefit. It
lerstands his own
lunderstand it for
lake any change
an injury, and
use.

[Every man that

1 he pleases. No

|mment, has any

, which he shall

ise just suck a

, • Im pbMMt Md a ntNluit to k«y ai^ mU
wkat kt ekooMt, aad at Nek prioes m he leee fii He
■ay aek loo muoh, and mar impoea upon kis nalgk.
kmtni hut if he do so, he wUI ■oen punish klmself. And
tkougk he (L > Mtt tgnoraatly and wickedly, yet m
wo eannot oontr > Mm without InteHMag with the right
•r property. It t« mi h hnter to let klm aloae. tkaa for
tke take of regulating /••»■, tn np^mm mU tht olhtr mm
la the ooth,. ttnit nnd tkm, i..i (kr >«ke of pnnlihiDg
•M bad man, t ii i a hmnttrmi gaud i' 't

Anolbfr condltiiih ui vx i"tT fWvonra •• tu produo-
tlronees, ii tli intelligi- . ,. ' Iib propl. If tkey be
ignorant, thc^ Mitber are Mmible nf th importanee
of Industry, nor know how to exert themit:i »■ to the
boot advantagt. It thus becomes of great conar'^ '
that all should be, to a certain extent at least, enii^ i-
•Md by knowledge.

IL BXOBANOB.

We have thus far coBsiderod produeti> and the
meant by whloh, with a given amount of I. ir, pro-
duotloB may be Increased. But were this ali the hap-

«neee of man would be but In a small degree mcreased.
''ere a man to make everything for hlmwlf, or, what
It the tame thing, have nothing but what h« oo M
make himself, though his labour were ever so prod -
tivo, he would enjoy but very few comforts. Thoui(i .
farmer, instead of raising a nundred bushels of whviit,
could raise three hundrvd bushels, yet if he did in '
need for his own consumption more than a hundred.
and could not nrocure anything else with his iwldi-
tlonal two hundred, he would be no better off than
before, but might at well suffer this additional product
•o rot UDon the ground. His additional labour would
bring him no additional advantage, and hence there
would be no enoouracement to laoour. But as so(
M he is able to excnange this two hundred bushuu
more than he can use himself for some other things
which he wants, his additional labour brings with it
a corretpondine reward; and additional productlve-
noM of labour biingi with it additional comforts and
conveniences. Of so great advantage to mankind is
exchange. Hence it wUl be seen that the prosperity of
a country, its wealth and its Industry, are very muoh
in proportion to its facilities for exchange. Thus we
Me that no country can easily become rich without
available harbours on its coast, good roads, canals, and
railways in its interior ; and that its advantages are
greatly increased when it is so fortunate as to be pene<
(rated in many directions by navigable rivers. We
ihall now proceed to consider the nature and principal
lawi of exchange:—

or nil FACTS i:< ocn constitction which bendeb

KXCHANOa VNIVERSALLT NaCEBSABT.

1. It it a well-known fact that labour it necetsary
ia order to render anything valuable. Everything
Taluable around us will, if we reflect, be seen to be the
result of the labour of some one. And we have also
seen that he who has laboured has, by means of that
labour, acquired a right to the value which he has
created. By this we mean that he has a right to do
with it just what he pleases.

. 2. It is also the fact, that every man seems disposed
to punue some one kind of occupation in preference to
another. One man chooses to be a saL'or, another a
farmer, another a mechanic, another a mviufacturer,
and luiother a merchant. And we also see that these
4iffe)vnt men seem each one to be the best adapted to
that kind of business which each one has chosen. And
we know that, by the principles of division of labour,
there wil- he a much larger amount of product created
when eraty i»4WtTiual nas a separate employment,
thau t«k*ti e\v\y uau is obliged to distribute his time
and eneiyiM between a doieu employments.

3. But whi'fl every man is thus intended to labour
at one particular employment, and to produce otie par-
tioolar thing, every man needs for his comfort and cou-

vMilenea • liammi tkhfk N««, M k« lakran to
ptedaoe only om of tkew I kmi mnd tklngi, ke matt
pnmin aU tke ml ky •ztiwafti keaee. In order to
gratify kit detlteo, ho muti makt niae kuadred and
nlaety-alne ti«kMig"o< By to doing ko it able by
labouring to predaae one kind of raluo. and then ky
eaekango to tappW kimtelf with every kind of value
tkat ke wtekee. In tkit maaaot nea are rendered
kappler, Inaamueh at every oao ia enabled to puna*
the oeeupatlon that ke llkee beet,aBd at tke laoM tlma
to procure irhatevar ke neada Ibr kit kappinaea. And
moreover, >y tklt mode labour ia muok mora pr«-
duotive, evi one procurea a muok larger quantity of
what he desir< the aame amount of labour.

\\i> thus s< itt in order to secure our pkytlaal
httppiness, then. r^Mj its great a neoaealty for tm-
ihana* aa there i> >t pru. u«(ien. TMs rule appllea
equally well to naiions aa to indlviii'iala. No nation
Is able tn ritise within itself < -half uf *he prodiielloaa
naoeasary u> its convenience. It may . &ve, however,
peculiar advantages fur produ'ing somo 'ne or two
artiolee of genenl necessity. These are -ximmonl^
< Ailed its ' staples.' No< It is h. the adva « age of a
nation, aa well aa of an i ridual. 'o devot< itself to
the oductlon of that \ ,ch it c. produ< in tka
greu. 5t abundance and >« ih the t atest ei. '. and
tbr"\ ti/ procure by exclian^' with otii countrit these
ari cles which it needs, but which (A produr with
Krenter ease and iu greater Jiundano I *ita

t this case are of the samb nature n

ach nation labours In t) t. departmer

'tich It chooses; and at t.^o same time,
Miableil in greater abumlani'- to avail
I iluctlons of^very other country.

Mnce there is so great an amount of exci >> whicH
rail t of necessity Im made. It Is <- rident, fr> .. lat « -■
hav said on the subject of division of laa>'«« tha*
ther' will be a great saving of labour — thM> the

laboi of the whole society will be much mov
tlve, aomo portion of the community devot>
the hi 'mess of conducting exchanses. Thua
were i a given town a hundred families enit,
the vati us kinds of production, and requiring n
own coi 'enienoe a great many exchanges wit
other. It irould be a great saving i>f time and h
some ind' iduals should give up all other buiiiii>«>

111 I

'mIu<

'ni,

er.

in
it

'«1U0-
elftO
'h^Tp
-ti

*heir
ach
-rlf
lid
employ ti .mselves entirely in the business of exriu jg-
lii/. The would then receive the various produr: of
the diffen it producers, keep them on hand, and >n(>r
them in barter to such as wanted them, and they woui!
carry the productions of the town to a city, and ex
change then for what might be wanted by their friends
at home. It may be easily seen that such an arrange-
ment would t>e a great convenience.

Such arrangements are always made wherever men
are iixlustrioug and frugal, and hence have anything
to exchange. The men who thus employ themselves
in exchanges i^re called merchants, and are usually
spoken of in the language of commerce at retail and
wholetale merciiants : —

Retail merchunti purchase In large quantities of im-
porters or wholesale merchants, and sell again to con-
sumers in such quantities as they may desire. In doing
this they greatly benefit all parties. The wholesale
dealer could not afford to break open a barrel of su^ar
to sell a pound, unless he charged a very hi;;h price
for his trouble. The consumer could not aifonl to
purchase a bag of coffee, or a barrel of sugar, or a
whole piece of broadcloth. And besides, a man it
rarely a judge of the goods he wishes to purchase, and
it is much better for hiin to use the skill of a good judge
than to attempt to judge for himself.

The wholesale tnerchant imnortt in large quantitiet
from abroad, or purchases In large quantities from the
manufacturer at home, and sells to the retail merchant,
who, aa we have said, sells to the consumer. The im-
portance of this kind of labour in exchange is at evi-
dent at the other. The retail merchant could not import
from abroad in to tm'all quantitiet at he wishei to

487

cHAMBKBersixrcniCLTnnr iob thb raoFut.

]niNhaM,'nnIeH wlth'inuoh additioiuJ umdw. One
wholcikle meidiMtt could import m maoh m would
■apply » iMg* number of reti^l mndwnti, and with
but jwy littlo men li^ur than would be demanded
ottrery indiridualwlo only imported the email quan-
tity which he needed tor hie own lalee.

The interest of the merchant requires that he should
buy as cheap as possible, that he may sell as cheap as
possible; for the cheaper he sells, the more numerous
will be his customers. Honoe the wholesale merchant
will export what he can export cheapest, will exchange
his export where he can do it the most to his advau-
tan — that is, where he can procure what is most wanted
at liome, and where he can do it at the lowest rates.
So the reteil merchant knows that the better his goods
are, and the cheaper the rate at which he sells them,
the greater will be the number of his customers, and
the greater the number of exchanges which he will be
able to effect within a given time.

H-tnce we see that the real interest of the merchant
lu ' hat of the whole community are the same. The
reti merchant can become rich in no other way than
by purchasing as cheap as he can, that he may be
able to sell as cheap as he can; for if he sell dearer
than his neighbours, no one will bur of him. And so
the wholesale merchant cait ^ow rich in no other way
than by sending abroad what is cheapest at home — that
is, what is least wanted there, and bringing back what
is dearest at home— that is, what is most wanted there.
Thus we see that if merchants conduct their business
correctly, they cannot grow rich in any other manner
than by dbing a real service to the community in which
they carry on their transactions.

SOMB OF TBZ PRINCIPAL TACTS IN REOABD TO EXCUANOE.

Isf, In making exchanges with each other, men pro-
ceed upon the principle of exchanging labour for labour.
What men can procure without labour, they will give
away without demanding labour for it. What they
have to labour a day in order to procure, they will not
exchange for anything which they could procure by
labouring half a day. And thus, in general, when one
product costs more than another, it is because it re-

Suires either more labour, or more skilful labour, than
lie other to produce it.

Here, however, we should always boar in mind the
nature and effect of accumulated labour. If a man
labour six months upon a wind-mill, this wind-mill re-
presents the labour and skill of six mouths accumulated
in one machine. If he use this mill for grinding flour,
he is entitled not only to the price of his labour per
day, but also to remuneration fur tho use of his accu-
mulated labour. Now all machinery and erections, all
fixed capital of every kind, railways, canals, &c. are so
many fonns of accumulated labour; and it is manifest
that for the use of this labour, as well as for the daily
labour by which it is put into operation, the owner is
entitled to a fair remuneration. And also it is evi-
dent that if capital be left free and unencumbered,
this kind of labour will, by competition, be brought to
yield, like every other specie" of capital, no more than
its proper and fair recompense.

While this, however, is true in general, it is also true
that the exchangeable value of iJl articles is liable to
sudden and limited variations in consequence of the
variations of supply and demand. In such cases some-
times an article will bring more, and at other times
less, than the cost of the labour necessary to produce
it. These, however, never can continue long, and they
in the end equalise and compensate for each other; so
that they do not at all iin ilidate the general assertion,
that when men exchange, they exchcnge on the pri-
mary principle of labour for labour.

2J, The exchanger, or merchant, confers no new value
on a product, he only saves labour and time to the
producer. The article which a merchant buys is not
changed in any manner by his labour. He who sells
penknives, or calicoes, or sugar, or coffee, sells these
Articles just as he receives them. And so of the ar-
41)8

tielM whidi ha pofduMm to export in payment tvt
tbeni^ Ntverthaless, he is itiU pwformmg n serrim
of great advantage to the oommiUMty. Were the far-
mer, who wanted a soythe, oblind to oany his wheat
to the tqfthe namtfteturer, and exchange it himself,
his soythe would cost ten times what ' t costs at present.
The case is still stronger, if he weru obliged to go to
Sheffield or Manchester to procure the hardware which
he wanted. Hence although the men^ant does not
himself add any new value to his wares, yet by re-
ducing the cost at which they must otherwise neoessarily
be procured, he does as great service to the community
as tnose who actually prMUce. He enables other persons
to produce twice as much as they would be able to pro-
duce otherwise, and' this is the same thin^ to the com-
munity as though he were the producer himself.

3d, Hence it will be seen that the more rapidly ex-
changes are made, the better it will be for the merchant
and for the community. It will be the better for the
merchant, because he thus, with the samo capital, makes
a greater number of exchanges in a given time, and
thus makes a greater annuu profit, while he charges
a smaller advance upon each exchange. Hence it
is t>etter for the commuHtly, because the less the ad-
vance which he charges, the less is the price which
they are obliged to pay for what they purchase. Thus
we see that, in prosperous times, trade is brisk; that
is, exchanges are made rapidly, and with the greatest
advantage to both parties.

4lh, There are three circumstances on which the fre-
quency and infrequency of exchanges depend : —

1. TAe Intelligenee of a Pecple. — Every one has a
desire for the various means of happiness which God
has spread around him, if he know what they are, and
how he shall obtain them. Eveiy oi^4 who has read the
voyages of the early navigators, must have seen how
eager the inhabitants of the newly-discovered islands
were to exchange, as soon as they beheld the various
instruments, and tools, and ornaments of civilised men.
And thus we see that newspapers, travelling, and all
the ordinary means by which information is circulated,
have a great effect in increasing the desire of men to
improve their condition by means of exchange; and
that they are thus induced to labour more industriously,
in order to procure something to offer in exchange for
what they want.

3. Produetivenaa of hiduitry. — It is not enough that
a man be desirous to exchange; he cannot gratify that
desire unless he be able to offer something to the other
party which will be accepted in barter. If I desire a
barrel of flour ever so much, I can never obtain it unless
I am able to offer to the flour merchant something which
he will accept iu exchange for his flour. Thus every
one knows that a rich man is able to make a great many
more exchanges in a year than a poor man. A labourer
who earns high wages can make many more exchanges
in a year than a laoourer who earns but low wages. A
farmer buys many more articles of comfort — that is,
makes many more exchanges — in a productive than in
an unproductive season. And thus in general every
one must observe that a wealthy country makes more
exchanges, both internal and external, than a poor
country; a prosperous than a declining country; and
the same country in a period of successful than in a
period of unsuccessful industry,

3. Moral Charaoter. — Men do not always exchanger
their products at the same instant, but one or the other
frequently waits some time for the return which he is
to receive in exchange for his product. This •> res vise
to a liability to dishonesty. And besides, w&en men
are dishonest, they will frequently cheat each other
either in the quantity or in the quality of the article
which they oner Lu exchange. Now where these lia-
bilities exist, they will greatly lessen the number of
exchanges. No one who can help it will have any
dealings with a rogue. Hence when men are disposed
to bo rogues, exchanges will diminish. Laws are made
to oblige rogues to act like honest men; hence when
laws are just, and are well administered, exchanges

POUnOAL ECONOHT.

rt in jpaynwnt tut
rforming a lerTim
f, Wece th« tmt-
to eury his wheat
chMfe it himielf,
t OlMtt »t pNMnt.
: obliged to go to
lie liMiwMe which
neichant doee not
WMM, yet by re-
herwiie neaewurily
to the community
lablet other penoni
old be able to pro-
thine to the com-
cer himMlf.
e more rapidly ex-
>e for the merchant
the better for the
amo capital, makes
a giTen titae, and
•.while he chargei
:hange. Hence it
e the leia the ad-
M the price which
y purchase. Thus
rade is brisk; that
I with the greatest

IS on which the fre-
ss depend : —
—Every one has a
ppiness which God
wnat they are, and
^ who has read the
list have seen how
-discovered islands
Mheld the various
is of ctrilised men,
travelling, and all
ation is circulated,
I desire of men to
of exchange; and
nore industriously,
in exchange for

not enough that
lannot gratify that
ithing to the other
If I desire a
rer obtain it unless

something which
lour. Thus every
nake a great many

man. A labourer
more exchanges
)ut low wages. A
comfort — that ia,
>roductive than in

in general every

ntiy makes more
Dal, than a poor

ing country ; and
cenful than in a

always exchange
t one or the other
etum which he is
This •■ res lieu
lides, wBen men
±eat each other
tty of the article
where these lia-
the number of
t will have any
len are disposed
Laws are made
len; hence when
ered, exchanges

will be mora freqae&t than when they are unjust, par-
tial, and un&iriy administered. But every one must
see that on the moral character of a people, not only
their personal honesty, but also the soundness and effi-
ciency of their laws, depends. Hence we observe that
morality, using this word in its most extended sense,
is of the greatest importance, not only to suoeess in
production, but also to success in exchanges.

And the same principles appW to our exchangea with
foreigners. If we treat them Justly and kindly, and
allow them all reasonable means for enforcing their
rights, they will come and oxchange their products for
ours, in preference to going to another country where
they would be less favourably treated. Thus we shall
be able to procure, on the most favourable terms, what-
ever we need from other nations, and in this manner
reap the richest reward for our industry and moral
character.^ A leliisb, exclusive policnr is as self-destruc-
tive a policy fur nations as it is for individuals.

And if this be the case, we shall easily determine
what are the causes which naturally diminish the fre-

2uency of exchanges, or which produce stagnation and
eraneement in business.

If the tUrire for any particular product diminish, the
demand for it will diminish; hence those who produce
it, and those who keep it for sale, will be unable to sell
it. Thus the changes in fashion frequently destroy in
a short time the entire demand for an article which a
year ago was in vogue. Or the diminution of the in-
telligence of a country will in due time produce the
same effect on exchanges generally.

The diminution of production during a single year
will produce the same effect for that year; and oppres-
sion, heavy taxation, or anything which interferes with
production, or diminishes the productiveness of human
industry, will accomplish the same result permanently.
And hence it is that as a nation becomes vicious, un-
just, or oppressive, such moral deterioration must pro-
duce a diminution of exchanges, in the same manner
as it interrupts all other kinds of industry. And thus
success in exchange, as well as success in production,
depends in a great measure upon the intellectual and
moral character of a people.

From what has been said, it will be easy to perceive
ui what manner a government can best promote the
business of exchange. It is by promoting the intelli-
gence and virtue of a people — by giving every facility for
the increase of the productiveness of mdustry — by en-
couraging, in every suitable manner, the establishment
of roads, ciuials, railways, and means of internal com-
luuuication— by rendering its harbours and coasts as
easy of access as possible — and by giving to foreigners
every reasonable facility for the transaction of their busi-
ness when they come amongst us. In other words, by
conducting its business, both internal and external, upon
principles of the most perfect fairness and freedom.

And we see also what measures are in their nature
most likely to dttntHuh the number of exchanges. Such
are duties on imports, or, in other words, adding to the
price of every foreign commodity offered in exchange,
obstructing the means of intelligence, refusing the neces-
sary facilities for constructing means of internal com-
munication, imposing unnecessary disabilities upon
foreigners, neglecting the condition of harbours and
coasts, and in genersa any course of measures by which
the article offered in exchange is rendered more expen-
sive, or by which the person who comes among us for
the purposes of exchange is denied any reasonable
means for seeking his own interest or happiness.

[Of exchange by means of money, metallic and paper,
a full exposition is presented in the following sheet en-
titled CoMMKBCK—MoNBr— Banks.]

III. DISTRIBCTION.

We have thus far considered the mode in which wealth
is, in the first instance, produced, and in which, in the
second instance, the producen are best enabled to ex-
change it with each other.

It is, however, oommonly the owe thtA so Mtiele of
production is not the iMut of th« labour of one mw
alone, but of serenJ men united. Thus several men
successively unite in producing % bfuml of floor. One
owns the land on which it ia gio#n, another sows the
seed, another reaps the harvest, another owns the mill
in which it ia ground, another manages the mill for
the owner, anouier makes the barral in which it is
contuned, another transports it to market, and another
sells it to the consumer. Now every one of these
must be paid out of the barrel of flour when it ia pur-
chased by the consumer; Uiat is, the prioe of the nour
must be so ditlributed among them ail, that each one
has his iust shara of the proceeds. The prinbiplee on
which this is to be done ara considered by political
economists under the head of Distkibdtior.

As all value is the result of capital and industry, it
is manifest that we shall comprehend the whole sub-
ject, if we treat of Waget, or the price of labour, and
IntereMt, or the price of capital. Inasmuch, however,
as Capital in Land is in some respects peculiar, we
shall consider it separately under the head of Xmt,
or the price of land.

WIOIS, OB THE PKICS OF LABOCR.

Of the General Principles by which Waees, or tbo BzehaafsaUe
Value of Labour, is Regulated.

We have alread;^ seen that exchangeable value is the
cost of anything, influenced moreover by the effect of
supply and demand. We shall therefore consider, j(r«<.
The cost of labour; and teoondly. The effect of supply
and demand upon it : —

I. Of the Cost of Labour.

Of Simple Labour. — By simple labour we mean that
labour which may be performed by any healthy per-
son without any, or with very trifling, previous edu-
cation.

1. But it is evident that no person can continue in
health without food, clothing, and shelter. We can-
not, therefore, procure the labour of any living thing
without furnishing those necessaries which are rs-
quired for the continuance of existence. This is the
first thing which enten into the cost of labour.

2. But besides this, human beings are not qualified
to labour until they have attained several yean of age.
During the period of infancy, they must lie supported
by the labour of others. Were they not so supported,
the whole race of man would in a few yean perish.
The cost of labour must therefora be sufficient to sus-
tain not merely the parents, but also the children. And
yet more, men live frequently after they have ceased to
be capable of labour. The old must be supported, or
they will perish. Hence the wages of labour should be
enough to enable the labourer to lay up something to
support him in his old age, or else the wages of his
children should be suiiicient to maintain him after he
has become unable to maintain himself.

3. While, however, this is the fact, yet it may be
observed that the cost of labour, or the remuneration
necessary to accomplish these purposes, will vary in
different climates. In wann cl'mates, where vegetable
food is principally used, and where very little expendi-
ture is required either for fuel, clothing, or shelter,
wages would naturally be lower than in cold cMmates,
where the expenditures must of necessity be so much
greater. This is, however, equalised by the fact, that
warm climates enervate the system and relax the phy-
sical energies; so that, while you pay a very small sum
for a day's work, you receive a coitesponding small
amount of labour in ratum.

Such is the natural cost of simple labour, and it will
be generally found that by this rule that cost is practi-
cally adjusted. Whatever may be the condition of the
country, the lowest class of labouran earns but simply
sufficient to procure the ordinary necessaries of life for
the parent* and the children.

Of EdMaatedLabour.—Ji\i.i for most of the occupations
of life lome sort of education is required. No man can

489

OHAUBBBS'i mO/BMJMOK WOB THB FEOPLfi.

be * oarptnttt, or * bltelomitk, or » Jowdlw, or a
phTddu, or • Uiwym, or • oleigxnum, withont bring
•dacftted for tbo puiioakr calliiig wbich ha Intends to
punue. Now tuf education ia expeniiTO. It ooete
both time and money. If ft man wiih to praetiie a
trade or a profteeion, he mnit *psnd leTeral jreaie in
preparation or apprentioeehip. During the whole of
thif time he receivei no wagei, and frequently ii obliged
te pay for tuition. When he hai acquired the necet-
•aiy ikiU, he ii able to perform more raluable labour
than before, and he is entitled to a higher compeniation.
Thii oompraiation would naturally reaionably be ad-

iAtted by a ooniideration of the time and capital which
le has expended in hit education. The longer the time,
and the greater the ezpenie of hii training, the higher
oueht to DO hie wagei. It is evident that the wages of
tarn tiained labour must be always greater than those
of simple labour, otherwise it will not be produced.
No man will spend money in educating his son for a

Srofession which will yield him no higher wages than
e could earn without any education.
Such are the principl< s by which the cost of labour
is adjusted. Wages must always be sufficient to sup-
port the labourer, and to remunerate him for the
expense which must be incurred in acquiring the sliill
necessaiT to the practice of his profession.
II. Of the Demand for Labour.
We shall consider this under two divisions— /r«f.
The demand for simple labour; and tecmtdlif. The de-
mand for educated labour.

1. The demand for simple labour, or that which is
indispensable to the production of the ordinary neces-
saries of life, is incessant and universal. Every man
requires, either indirectly or directly, the labour which
is employed in producing the ordinary articles of con-
sumption for food, clothmff, and shelter.

But in order to render this labour available, it must
be united with capital. Neither labour nor capital can
produce anything alone. Hence he who possesses
capital is always desirous to unite it with labour, and
he who is able to labour is always desirous to unite that
labour with capital. And it is evident that the lai;ger
the amount of capital which a man possesses, the greater
will be the amount of labour which he will wish to pro-
cure. He who cultivates five hundred acres of land
will require a larger number of workmen than he
who cultivates but fifty acres. The iron founder who
wishes to manufacture five hundred tons of iron will
require a greater number of worlcmen than he who
wishes to manufacture buj fifty tons. And hence in
general we see that the greater the amount of capital,
the greater will be the number of labourers required —
that is, the greater will be the demand for labour.

If the capital of a country be too great for the num-
ber of labourers, there will be a competition between
capitalists for labour. They will overbid each other,
and thus the price of labour will rise. Those of the
first class will be insufficient to supply the demand for
labourers of this class, and a number of labourers
must therefore be taken from the second class. And
thus in succession every class of labourers will be
n^sed one grade. The price of labour will thus be
raised throughout the whole community, the condition
of the people will be meliorated, a smaller proportion
of children will die, and a larger number of labourers
will he reared. If the addition from this natural source
do not supply the deficiency, labourers will then immi-
grate from less favoured countries, where the proportion
of capital to labour is less.

On the contrary, where the proportion of capital to
labour is small, there will be a larger number of per-
sons desirous of labour than can find employment. In
this case there will be a cumpetitiou among labourers
for work. They will underbid each other, and thus tlie

firice of labour will fall. The case menlioned in the
ast paragra^/.. -'ill then be reversed ; the condition of
all the iMwurers will be rendered worse, and many will
either emigrate or starve. Many children and weak
and sickly persons will die of the diseases couiequeut
490

npon intafldsat nourishment and txponto. In tUi
manner the number of human beings ^rill be reduced
until the supply of labour is adyuated to the amount of
capital, and then the price of labour or wages will rise
again. Hence we see that, in order to seoun the pros.
peritT of a country, it is necessaiy that its capital
should increase with its population. No matter what
may be the present condition of a people, if population
increaaet faster than capital.i'Uf if capital remain kto-
tionary, or specially if it be diminisning, thetr must
soon arrive a season of great distress among the labour-
ing-dasses. There will then be more labourers than
can find sustaining employment.

Hence we see tha mat importance of both individual
and national fnigality. He who squanders away pro-
perty in useless expenditure, is annihilating the veiy
means by which the honest labourer might earn his
subsistence. Thus also of nations. The government
that wastes property in wars, or in any other form of
unprofitable consumption, is diminishing the capital of
the country, and scattermg the resources which the
toils of ^the people have accumulated. Every shilling
thus spent is the destruction of so much of the means
by which the labourers of the country are to be sus-
tained. Suppose a nation be worth a hundred millions
of capital, and that the use of all this capital be neces-
sary in order to furnish employment and the means of
subsistence to its population. If it spend ten millions
in war, that part of its population which was sustaii? d
by the use of that ten millions must be unemployed.
Or if this portion be not immediately throum out of
emploj/ment, and the injury be averaged, the price of
wages for the whole will be reduced to ihe amount of
this difi^rence ; every one will be worse ofi', and the
lowest will be destitute, and will starve,

Of the Demand for Educated Labour. — This is sub-
stantially dependent upon the same principles. A
community needs the services of lawyers, physicians,
clergymen, judges, and men of science. Hence there
will be a demand for these services. If there be a
greater number of educated labourers than is required,
the price of the wages of such labourers will fall.
Under contrary circumstances ii will rise. When the
price of educated labour falls so low as not to remu-
nerate the labourer for his skill and education, the
supply will be reduced by the fact, that men will turn
their attention to some other pursuit.

The demand for these different kinds of labour varies
with the condition of society. The rich and luxurious
have greater demand for medical aid than the poor and
abstemious. The progress of society renders titles to
land more intricate, and exposes men to greater danger
from fraud. Hence the greater need of the services of
those who have devoted themselves to the study of the
laws, and who are therefore qualified to instruct us
how we may avail ourselves of the benefit of law.

111. We next proceed to consider the supply of labour,
both simple and educated.

The amount of labour in any country depends upon
the number of healthy human beings inhabiting it.
Hence the supply of labour will depend chiefly upon
those conditions by which the increase or the continu-
ance of human life is affected. Of these conditions the
most important are the following : —

1. The means of living which may be commanded by
the labourer. Where wages are low, and the means
of living are with difficulty procured by the labourinf;-
classes, the increase of population will be small, nay,
population may l)ecome stationary, or it may even de-
crease. When a family, for instance, with its utmost
labour, in health, can barely provide the means of sub-
sistence, they must all suffer greatly in sickness. In
such cases, parents or children very frequently die from
the want of common conveniences or attentions. And
as sickness is a calamity common to all men, under
such circumstances large numbers of the poor must
perish. For this reason epidemic diseases, especially
those of children, are found to be much more fatal
among the poor than among the rich. In countries

fCOJTIOlL EOOKOMT.

ixpoMM. In dill

rvM be nduoed
to the unoant of
or wages will riee
io leeun the proe>
r that iti capital
No matter what
>ple, if population
^pital remain Lto-
■ning, therr muit
among the labour-
ire labooieri than

of bothindiridual
landers away pro-
ihilating the Terr
er might earn his

The goremmeut
any other form of
liing the capital of
lources which the
d. Every shilling
luch of the means
trv are to be sus-
i hundred millions
8 capital be neces-

and the means of
ipend ten millions
bich was sustain d
it be unemployed,
tely thrown out of
'aged, the price of
to ^lie amount of
nrorse off, and the
rte.

our. — This is snb-
le principles. A
iwyers, physicians,
nee. Hence there
ss. If there be a
m than is required,
bourers will fall.
. rise. When the
w as not to remu-
id education, the
hat men will turn

ds of labour varies

ich and luxurious

than the poor and

renders titles to

to greater danger

of the services of

> the study of the

id to instruct us

lefit of law.

»tip/rfy of labour,

try depends upon
gs inhabiting it.
end chiefly upon
or the continu-
conditioni the

lO commanded by
and the means

)y the labouring-

be small, nay,

it may even de-

with its utmost

he means of sub-
in sickness. In

quently die from
ttentions. And
»U men, under
the poor must
eases, especially
uch more fatal
1, In countries

m)un the wajiei »ti£tu poor an raj low, it if not un-
common to mid parents who have nad large families
almost childleM. On the oontnur, just in proportion
M the labouiing-«la«wi are enabled to proride them-
■elree with all the conveniencei of livbg, will the num-
ber of children who are reared be increased.*

And besidei, labourer! wiU readily eminate from
other len favoured countries to that in which the con-
dition of the labouring-classes is happy and prosperous.
In this manner population will always flownom old to
new countries, and from regiona where labour is poorly
repaid to those in which it receives a more generous
remuneration. Both of these circumstances tend at
present to increase the population of the United States.
There the wages of labour are high, and the means of
living abuiidant. Those who are willing to labour can
always command the necessaries, and frequently the
conveniences of life, both for themselves and for their
families. Hence a much smaller proportion of children
die there than in older countries, and of course the
population is much more rapidly augmented. And
from the same cause — namely, the high price of labour
— ^there is annually a prodigious amount of emigration
thither from the older countries of Europe.

2. The next condition necessary to the rapid increase
of population, is the moral condition of a people. ^ Vice
is always awfriUy expensive, and terribly desolating to
human life. It matteri not how great be the wages of
<he labourer ; if those wages be spent in intemperance
Mid profligacy, his family will suffer or starve. In some
countries, such as the United States, almost all the
•ufibring of children is the consequence of the vice of
one or of both of their parents.

On these two circumstances, therefore — the wages of
the labourer, and his own personal moral habits— does
the increase of population principally depend. And
aa we have before stated, the supply of labourers is as
the increase of population.

The same principles in the main govern the supply
of educated labour. If the wages of such labour are
sufficient to pav for the expenditure of time and capital
necessary to the acquisition of the education, such
labour will be produced — that is, men will turn their
time and talents in this direction. On the contrary,
when the remuneration of such labour is inadequate,
men will not prepare themselves to perform it, and
those already educated will devote themselves to some
other occupation. The supply will thus be reduced so
as to correspond with the demand.

Of ClronniBtanoea which Affect the Bate of Wages in Fortioular
Instances.

We have seen that a given amount of capital is neccs-
aary in order to furnish employment for an individual
labourer. Hence any given amount of capital directed
to any one business, will only furnish employment for
a oorrespondiug number of labourers. And moreover,
if any portion of the capital now employed in any one
kind of business be withdrawn and devoted to any
other kind of business, there will follow a change in the
rate of wages in that employment. The wages in the
business from which capital is withdrawn will fall ;
those in the business to which capital is directed will
rise. Such is the result of all legislative enactments
which affect the employment of capital.

But besides this more general cause, the price of
labour in the several professions is affected by various
special circumstances. For instance —

1. By the ease or difficulty, the pleasure or pain, &c.
of the employment, and by the estimation in which it
is held by the community.

When any trade is ia its nature unpleasant, men do

* It has latterly heen sormifled, with cotuiderable probability,
that the BinUng of a population below a certain point in comfort,
Introduces conditions which tend to its increase ; but tho increase
produced in these circunutanccs does not operate as a bealtliy
increase would do, the people being then Ul-cared for, 111-rcarcd,
ill-educated, and perhaps also dangerouH, and therefore injurious
to the development of tho iwn'ors of capital.— £0.

not like to praotiM it. Heno* whan we with to employ
them, we are oblked to overdome their reluctance by
higher wages. Vniua the perforBMincc of the labour
is pleasant, many penoni are willing to engage in it,
and hence the supply being greater than the demand,
the price of the labour falla accordingly.

S.~ By the skill required in performing the operation.

This results from two causes. First, the greater the
■kill required, the smaller will be the nnmMr able to
perform the operation. Thus the supply^ will be small.
And secondly, the longer will be the time spent in
learning to perform it, and hence the greater wages
will the labourer be entitled to receive.

3. The confidence reposed.
In many employments much reliance must be placed

in the moral character, the courage, the discretion, the
talent, and forethought of the agent. But inasmuch
as these qualifications are not frequently found united
in the same individual, the number of suitable candi-
dates for such employments is small. Hence as the
supply is commonly less than the demand, the wages
in such employments are high. And inasmuch as
those who have a large amount of capital at stake,
find it for their interest to procure such labourers at
any price, the wages of such persons will always be
much higher than in cases when no such confidence
is of necessity reposed.

4. Constancy or inconstancy of employment.
Some kinds of labour furnish incessant employment;

others furnish employment only at intervals. Yet in
the one case, as well as in the other, division of labour
requires that the labourer devote his whole time to his
business. Hence in the latter case it is reasonable
that, for the performance of a particular operation, he
should receive a larger remuneration than in the for-
mer. We pay more for ridmg a mile in a hackney-
coach than for riding a mile in a stage-coach, because
the employment in the one case is constant, and in the
other inconstant. A large portion of the time of the
driver of a hacluey-coach is consumed in waiting in
readiness for passengers. For this time we must pay
our poition whenever we employ him.

OF THE PRICi: OF MONET.
Why we pay Interest fi>r the use of Honey.

The leading question which arrests our attention in
the consideration of this subject is the following:—
Why should the use of money have any price at all !
As I return to a man the same value which I borrow
of him, why should I pay him anything for having
kept it during the interval i This question we shall in
the first place attempt to answer.

Every man who labours at any regular employment
possesses two qualities which render his services of
value — these are strength and skill. The former enables
him to execute simple labour, or labour of the cheapest
kind; the latter, when united with the former, enables
him to execute educated or higher-priced labour. But
in order to perform the latter, he requires tools and
materials — that is, capital. Without these he could
perform only simple labour. Of what use would be the
skill of the blacksmith without a forge and iron t or
that of the carpenter without tools and wood ! or that
of the spinner without a spinning-jenny and raw cotton t
Without these they would be all reduced to the neces-
sity of that labour which could be performed with their
naked hands.

Suppose now that I am a blacksmith, and own a
forge, tools, and iron, with which I ara daily employed,
and thus earn the wages both of labour and skill:
were I to lend them to another man for a week, and
carry a hod during the meantime instead of working
at my trade, and thus lose the profit of my skill, he
who thus borrows my forge, tools, and iron should
surely remunerate me for wie use of them. Suppose
he borrow them for a year, he should pa;^ me for the
same reason. And if I hare the money with which ht
can purchase them for himself, and I Lad it to him,

491

cBAioKiura HFOBiunoK waa, xhb psopli

liA ihould pftT me ju«t m truly for the mooej m for
the took and oMit*!; beouue, if I had not lent it to
him, I oould h»re eitabliehed another forge, whioh I
could hare nuMie profitoble to mywlf.

And here we mmy remark, in general, that when we
■peak of the loan of monejr, it ia in reality not money,
but other capital that ii wanted, and for which we pav
iutereit. were a tradeaman to keep the money wmon
he bonowi locked up in hie drawer, it would be worth
nothing to him. It can be onljr of uaa when it ia ez-
diangea for lomething elie, which, being united with
labour, will yield a profit. The fact ii, that CTOiy one,
aa toon aa he procurea money, exchanges it for toolt,
or material!, or merchandiae. Ereiy one leea that
these ought to pay interest, because they are the means
of accumulation. Just as much should the money pav
interest which is exchanged for them, and for which
the owner of the money would have exchanged them,
if he had not lent it to another.

Now it very frequently happens that the ability to
labour is possessed by men who have no capital upon
which to employ it. And on the other band, capital is
frequently possessed by indiT'duals who have neither
the skill nor the ability to labour. In such a case it
is manifestly for the interest of both parties to fonn a
copartnership, the one party furnishing the labour and
■kill, and the other furnishing the capital. By this
means both parties are benefited. The labourer earns
the wages of labour and skill instead of those of simple
labour; the capitalist derives an income from his pro-
perty without diminishing it, instead of being obliged
to lire upon the principal.

Now tnis takes place in two ways, both the same in
principle, although the mode in which the arrangement
is made is dissimilar.

The first is the case of wages. Here there is virtu-
ally a partnership formed between the capitalist and
the labourer. The one furnishes the tools and the
material, and takes all the risks of the operation, and
divides with the labourer the profits, which he pays in
the form of wages. These are generally agreed upon
at the commencement between the parties, and are the
same whether the operation be profitable or unprofit-
able. This, however, is not always the case. In the
whale-fishery, the crew of a vessel receive a pro t-ata
proportion of the profits in the place of regular wages,
and of course their remuneration is greater or less
according to the success of the vovaee.

The s««ond case is that in which the labourer as-
sumes the risk, receives all the profit himself, and
borroivs his capital from the other, agreeing to pay
him at a stated rate for the use of it. This is com-
monly the rase in the borrowing and lending of money.
If I purchase a shop and stock it with goods, and em-
ploy another person to keep it for me, paying him the
customniy wages, I act in the first-mentioned manner.
If I lend him the money by which he purchases the
■hop and stock, and he trades on his own risk, paying
nie interest on the amount borrowed, I act in the
second capacity.

It is the latter case that is to be considered in this
place. Here the borrower uses the capital of the
lender for his own advantage, and that advantage is
equal to the difference between simple labour and labour
united with skill. Did he not thus employ this capital,
the lender would employ it himself. It is therefore
just that the borrower of money should pay for the ad-
vantage which he gains, and of which he, by thus gain-
ing it, deprives the owner.

or Varioiu Circumstances which aflbet the Rate of Interest.
We have thus far endeavoured t > show that a price —
that is, iutercst — should justly be paid for the use of
capital. But we find that the interest of capital is dif-
ferent in diflTerent countries at the same time, and in
the same country at dififerent times, and in the same
country and at the same time it is diflTerent in different
kinds of investment. To the circumstances which give
rise to these difl!ereuces lot ub now attend : —

I. The rate of inteiest will be aSiicted by the prodif c>
tivenoMi of capital.

When a oapitaliit, by the aee of his own capital, can
readily make 10 per cent, per annum, he will of course
charge a higher interest upon it than when he can
scarcely make £ per cent, per aaalun. And it is
evident, on the other hand, taat the borrower will be
willing to pay a higher interest in the former than in
the latter case, becauee he will be able to make a higher
profit by the use of it. Hence when land is both dieap
and productive, interest will be high, because the in-
vestment of capital and labour in land and cultivation
will be exceedingly profitable. The same reason ope-
rates in other cases.

Whether the productiveness of capital be great or
small, 8upi>ly will afifect the rate of interest. When
the supply is small, there will be a competition among
the borrowers, and the lender vrill consequently receive
the laigest possible share of the profits; that is, interest
will be iii^h. When capital is abundant, there will be
a competition among the lenders: interest will fall;
that is, the lender will receive the smallest share of
the profits.

Both of these causes tend to produce the high rate
of interest so commonly observed in new countries.
Land is cheap. It is in its highest state of fertility.
All labour bean a very high price, for the results of
labour are imperatively demanded; and at the same
time capital is scarce, while the demand for it is inces-
sant. As a country grows older, these cii-oumstances
change, and the interest of money gradually falls.

II. Secondly, another circumstance afiecting the rate
of interest is the ritk of the investment.

When a man parts with his property, and places it
in the power of another, there is at least a chance that
he shall never see it again. This risk should justly be
added to the price which is paid for the use of capital.
Thus suppose that the fair compensation for the use
of capital in one case were 5 per cent., on the sup-
position that it was perfectly sure: if, in another case,
there were a risk equal to two in a hundred of its
being totally lost, this "i per cent, for the risk should
be added . to the 5 per cent, for use, and the interest
of the latter loan would be justly 7 per cent. So in
any other case of hazard.

This risk may dei>end upon several circumstances,
as, for instance —

1. The Nature of the Invetlment. — The risk of loss
would be less on money lent for the erection of a stone
than of a wooden house, and less on that lent for the
erection of a house than for carrying on the manu-
facture of Kunpowder. When the whole security
rests upon the capital purchased, it is manifest that
the risk would therefore depend greatly on the na-
ture of the material and the casualties to whioh it
was subjected.

2. The Charaeter of the Borrower.— men differ gteMy
in intellectual and moral character. Some, with honest
intentions, fail from want of skill; others, with sufij-
cient skill, fail from want of honest intentions. Just
in proportion to the deficiency in either of these re-
spects IB the hu/ard of lending increased. Every one
must see that he would be better oflT to lend to a skil-
ful and honest man at 5 per cent, than to a weak or
treacherous man at 10 per cent.

3. The risk depends, again, upon the character of the
government. When a government has gained the cha-
racter of stability, and when justice is administered
with promptitude and impartiality, so that every man
knows that the whole power of society will be exerted
for the purpose of enforcing his rights, the risk will be
by all these circumstances diminished. When it is
otherwise, and when a man knows that the justice of a
cause gives no assurance of success, the hazard is in-
creased, and interest will of course rise. This is one
of the causes of the high rate of interest during the
period of baronial oppression in Europe.

III. Thirdly, interest will vaiy according to the con-
venience or ittconvenitnee tfthe invtetmenf.

POUnCAL ECONOMY.

d by the prodiio>

circunutanceB,

ig to the fm-

MHien li man lendi hii money, he doei not know how
Kon he mmj want it again, or how long he may wiih to
continue it in ita preicut mode of investment. He,
aUo, who lends money, alwayi deiires the interest to
be paid punctually, because it is by means of thispunc-
tuaJity alone that he is able to make his arrangements
for the payment of his own debts. Now all these cir-
cumstances are taken into account by him who has
money to lend. He will lend at a lower rate when he
can let his property remain lent as long as he pleases,
or recall it wnen he will, and when the interest is
paid punctually, than when he is unable to recall it
except at a stated time, and may haro it returned to
him when it is not conrenient, and when he cannot
rely with certainty upon the punctual payment of the
interest.

These several circumstances, as erery one must see,
enter justly into every transaction in which money is
lent. The first is the difference which arises at diffe-
rent times from the produetivenest of capital. This
varies continually with the fluctuations in the suc-
cess of business, and many other causes. Secondly,
the rate of interest varies with the risk of the in-
vestment, this risk being liable to every degree of
variation. And thirdly, it varies with the conve-
nience or inconvenience of the investment; and all
these may be united favourably in one instance, and
unfavourably in another.

Hence arises the impolicy and injustice of establish-
ing a legal rate of interest, to which all loans shall be
subject^. It is rendering by law a mode of contract
tini/orm which combines withm itself more elements of
varintitm than almost any other that can be named.

It mar be useful, in closing this section, to add a
few words respecting the nature of stocks, of which we
now hear so much in conversation, and see so much in
the daily papers : —

Suppose a bank is to be established, a railway or
any other public work to be constructed. The sum
which is to be invested is divided into portions or shares
of a given amount; say, for instance, of a hundred
pounds each. Whoever wishes to engage in the under-
taking subscribes for as many of these shares as he
pleases. When he pays the amount at which the share
IS valued, he receives a certificate of ownership, which
entitles him to all the privileges of a stockholder, the
principal one of which is, that he is entitled to his por-
tion of whatever profit may arise from the operation.
These shares are called stocks, and are transferable at
any moment; the holder, whoever he may be, receiv-
ing the interest, or, as it is called, the divuiend, at tuu
regular times of payment.

The prices of these stocks rise and fall with the
rate of interest which the undertaking pays. If any
stock purchased at £100 a share pays the regular rate
of interest, it will sell for £100, and then it is said to be
at par. If it pay twice the regular rate of interest, and
is perfectly safe, it will sell for £200 a share, and is
then said to be 100 per cetU. above par. If it pay but
half the regular rate, it will sell for but £50 a share,
and is said to be 50 per cent, belotv par. And so of
any other instance.

Stocks, like any other investment, vary in price with
the degree of risk to which they are subjected. If a
stock pay a high dividend, but yet is liable to be entirely
consumed by casualties, it will sell for less than another
bearing lower interest, but of which the principal is
secure. Thus insurance and steamboat stocks, though
they pay large dividends, never bring a correspondent
price, because of the losses to which they are unavoid-
ably exposed. On the contrary, though an investment
at present pays but little, ^et is expected at some future
time to be very valuable, it will bring a high price, on
account of the anticipations which are formed concern-
ins it. It is by such circumstances that the rise and
fall of stocks are determined. They are constantly for
sale in large cities, and their prices will rise and fall
with the hopes and fears, the anticipations and appre-
hensions, of the buyers and tellers.

OF TRK PKICI OF h.'.'^O OR EKMT.

We have remarked in the preceding section, that
stocks, or any other investments, will bring a price in
the market in proportion to the annual interest which
may be derived firom them. A stock, let it have coat
what it may, which produces £6 a year, if 6 per cent, be
the regular rate of interest, pays the interest of £100,
and it will sell for £100. If it yield £12, it will sell
for £200, and so in any other proportion.

Now the same remark applies to the rent of land.
If an acre of land, after payug the ordinary expendi>
ture for tillage and carrying the produce to market,
will vield £3 profit, it will sell for £50, supposing the
regular rate of interest to be at 6 per cent. 1? the
profit that may be derived from it be more, it will sell
for more; if less, it will sell for less. And the same
principle applies to land, whether it be used for tillage
or for dwellmg-houses.

Such is the general principle on which the rent of
land depends. It is, however, to be remembered that
the productiveness of land depends upon two circum-
stances— /erfi7i<y and situation.

1. Fertility. — Every one knows that there exists great
difference in the fertility of land. With the same cul-
tivation, an acre in some situations wUl yield twice or
threo times as large a harvest as an acre in other situ-
ations. Some lands require annual manuring, other*
scarcely ever need to bi> manured at all. Now inaa-
much as from an acre in the one place you can derive
three times as much income as from an acre in tho
other, it is reasonable to suppose that the former would
sell for three times as much as the latter.

2. Situation.— The products of land, however, ara
bulky, and it costs a very considerable portion of their
exchangeable value to transport them to the market.
The price of transportation is always to be deducted
from the farmer's profit, and tends by so much to re-
duce the value of his land. It is on this account that
railways, canals, and other means of internal improve-
ment, confer so great a benefit upon a country. They
remove the disadvantages of situation by reducing the
cost of transportation.

Bearing these principles in mind, it will be easy to
perceive in what manner rents will be adjusted in any
given country. When a territory is at first settled, the
land may be had for nothing: eveiy one being at liberty
to choose for himself the most productive lands — ^that
is, the most fertile, and those most favourably situated,
will be at first selected. These will bear no price, and
will yield no rent, because they may be had for nothing.

When, however, these are all occupied, and others
are needed, the land of the next inferior fertility will
be put under tillage. As soon as this is done, the first
class of lands will yield rent, and will command a price.
Suppose lands of the first class to have produced fifty
bushels to the acre, and lands of the second class but
forty bushels: it will be as cheap for the settler to
hire a farm of the first class, at a rent of ten bushels
to the acre, as to have a farm of forty bushels to the
acre for nothing. When the lands of the second class
are all occupied, those of the third class will come into
request; and an soon as these are tilled, those of the
second class will also command a price, and will pro-
duce a rent. At the same time, the price and the rent
of lands of the first class will be doubled. In this
manner the rise of price and of rent in lands of various
grades of fertility will go on increasing, until all the
land worthy of cultivation is occupied.

As the common market for agricultural products is
on the sea-coast, it might be supposed that the price of
land would ^adually diminish as you removed into the
interior, until its disadvantages of situation reduced its
value to nothing. This would be the case were it not
for various counteracting circumstances. Among these
are the following : —

1. The fertility of land in many instances increases
as we retire from the coast. This fertility cuuutei-
balances the disadvantages of situation.

493

OHAMBSBffS nnOBIIAIIOV lOB THB PIOPLB.

3. Ai a oonntiT •dfaBow in dTiliMUoB, ita in«uu of
iat«rn»l oommuiii«U<» improT*, Mid iha Inoonrenienoe
«f lituation !• mon Mid mora mnorad.

S. At « Moatiy bMomM leMlad, towiu Mid eiiiM
■row up in the intarior, Mid thu bring » mukrt to Um
iHinw. H« if M muoh bendltad by tne bringing of the
BMvkat t» AJM, M he would be by the nmom of hie
iMid to the niMket.

4. Sometime* » new inrention in the uti tnnifoiini
at onoe the oonditione on which the progroM of » coun.
ttr depend. Sudi wai the reeult of the introduction
of steam narigation on the waten of the MiMiMiMi
and ite tributwj itroMni. Thii invention opened thu
whole Ti^ley to the Atlantic, and gare to the towns on
the banks of the rirer almost the adrantagcs of a posi-
tion on the sea-eout.

Besides these general oiroumstances, on which the
oommercial Talue of land depends, some others may be
mentioned which are well worthy of notice. Man is
endowed with a love for the beautiful, as well as with
an intellectual and moral naturo, and he Teiy com-
monly takes these tastes into account in choosing for
himself a place of abode. Hence land which is hand-
somely laid out and tasteftilly arranged, whether in a
Tillage or in the country, will sell for a higher price
than that which possesses none of these lecomroenda-
tions. A farm or a dwelling-house, in a well-oultiTated
neighbourhood, whero the people aie Tirtuous and bene-
Tolent, will lind more purchasers, and of course will
sell for a higher price, t^.ui one of equal fertility whero
the inhabitants aro ignorant and ricious, quarrolsome
and malicious. Hence we see that wero men to consult
nothing but their own interests, they might Teiy roa-
sonably devote moro caro than they commonly do to
embellishing their grounds, and suppl^inc themselTes
and their families with the means of intellectual and
moral improvement.

Land, however, is not always used for the purposes
of agricultuK. It is used in cities and towns, nieroly
to afford space for the erection of storehouses and
dwellings. In this case of course its fertility is of no
consequence, and its only value depends upon its situ-
ation. Hence its price will be determine meroly by
this ciroumstanee. Those portions which afibrd the
greatest facilitiM for businoM will oomraand the highest
nnt; and those which recede from them will command
a lower and lower rant, until they have receded so far
from the centra of busineu that the land is only valu-
i^le for dwelling-houses. The value of these, again,
gradually diminishes until situation is but a small part
of the price, and the land may profitably be devoted to
gardenmg. Hero the element of fertility again enters
mto the computation. The land immediate^ around a
large city is thus commonly occupied by those who
supply the market with recent vegetables and milk. At
a small distance beyond it is devoted to the general
purposes of agriculturo, and becomes what may be
properly denomiuated the country.

Having thus considered the general principles upon
which the distribution of the profits of any undertaking
is effected, we diall close this section by an example
illustrative of the manner in which these principles
operate in an individual instance : —

We will take, for the sake of this illustration, a loaf
of broad. A farmer in the West Riding of Yorkshiro
devotes his land to the raising of wheat. He tills his
land, raises his crop, and sells it to the miller. The
price which he receives for his crop repays him for the
cost of his own labour, the waces and support of his
workmen, the cost of manures, the ront of his land, and
interest on all the capital which has been invested. If
be own the land, he receives the rent himself ; if he
hiro it, he pays it to the landlord. The miller receives
the grain, manufactures it into flour, transports it to
Hul^ and sells it to the flour-merchant. The sum for
which he sells it repays him whatever he had paid the
fkrmer, and romunerates him for the cost of makmg
the flour. This must be sufficient to enable him to
pay his various workmen, to nmunerate him for his |
494

mm labour and tklU, the hm of Ut oai^tal, the wear
and tear of his mill, and the eost of transportation t«
Hall. What he hai paid the transportation iMnt must
be nfieient to remunerate him for the use ef his canal
boats, the men and horssa that have been employed ia
navinting them, the expense of toUs, and the interest
on aU the capital which is emnloyed in the operation.
The flour-merchant buvs the nour, and keeps it in his
storehouse to supply Bis oastomers. He is entitled
to a sum sufficient to npay him for what he paid the
miller, and also to interest on his investment, to remu-
neration for his labour and skill, and the cost of ston-
room. The baker punhases the flour of the flour-
merchant, and makes it into bread. He charges for
his broad sufficient to ropay him for what he pMd the
flour-merchant, and for all his labour and expense in
turning the flour into bread. Thus when we purchase
a loaf of bread, we pay our proportion of all these seve-
ral expenses. And these sevenl amounts, in all these
instances, an distributed according to the rules which
we have laid down. All the labour which has been
employed is paid aooording to its value and skill ; and
all the capital aooording to the use and risk to which
it had been subjected. The various items of oost, in
the production of any article of utility, may be easily
analysed in a similar manner.

IV. OONBUHPTION.
OP laS NATURB AND DBSION OP CONSnHPIIOR.

We have thus far endeavoured to show in what man-
ner the various objects for the gratification of desire
are productd, in what manner they aro exehanged
among the producers, and in what manner the sharo to
which each one of the producers is entitled, it diiMbuled
to each of them. But we know that all tnls is done
with refcronce to another object. Everything that is
of any value is desi|;ned to be used, and auer it is
thoroughly used, or, in familiar language, uted up, it is
worthlcM. All these provious operations only proparo
the way for eoiMtnapAon, and it is consumption that
creates the necessity for their being incessantly ropeated.

Consumption is the nverse of production. Pioduo-
tion is the act b^ which we eottfer vaiue. Consumption
is the act by which we de$troy the value which has been
thus conferred. When we speak of the destruction of
value, we do not mean that the material itself is de-
stroyed, but only that the form in which a paitlcular
value resided has been changed, and that hence that
particular kind of value is annihilated. Thus if a load
of wood be burned, its power of creating heat is de-
stroyed for ever. If bread be eaten, or thrown into
the sea, or burned by accident, or rondered useless by
mould, in either case its utility is destroyed, and we
say the bread is consumed. And thus we see that it
makes no difference as to the faet of consumption,
whether any benefit be derived from it or not. In the
one case, as well as in the other, the utility is destroyed.

It seems to be a law of naturo that we cannot create
one value without destroying another. He who chops
down a tree and saws it into boards, destroys for ever
the value of the tree as a tree. It lian never moro give
shade to the traveller nor gratify the taste of the tourist.
He who butchers an ox for beef, destroys for ever the
utility of the animal as a beast of draught. If we eat
an apple, we annihilate for ever the quaUty in the apple
of giving pleasuro to any other being. And thus, in
general, consumption is a sort of exchange, in which
we surronder one value for the sake either of croating
mother value, or else for the sake of gratify ing some
desiro which we consider of mora importance than the
existence of the value which we annihilate.

1. Consumption is either of labour or of capital. If
I purchase five dollars' worth of mahogany, and pay a
mechanic ten dollars for his labour in making it into a
table, I have consumed five dollan* worth of capital
and ten dollars' worth of labour. If I have made it
myself, instead of employing another, I have consumed
the same amount of value u my own labour. And in-

FOUnOAL SOOKOHT.

pilal. If
nd pay a

it into a
f capital

made it
onnimed

And iO't

Mraueh M It eoiti <ait u much to ntpport • hmnn
bting wbtther ha labour or whethtr ba mnain idio,
iho iponding a day in idlonoM ihould always b« con-
■tdcNd aa tna ooniumption of a dtty'i labour. In aati-
mating tha benefit or holiday*, we should always re-
member that the time which they occupy is the aon>
sumption of so much labour. And the profitableness
of the consumption is to be estimated by the benefit of
the result which is attained.

3. Consumption is either parMol or (ofol. Sometimes
after one ralua has been consumed, another and an
important Talue remains. A pair of India-rubber shoes
may be worn out, and be useless as dioes, and yet they
may be valuable for the manufacture of India-rubber
doth. A liuen garment may be worn out, and its uti-
lity as a garment may have been annihilated, and yet
it may possess an important value to the papermaker.
On the other hand, when we eat a piece of bread, as it
has but one value, and that value is destroyed, the con-
sumption is total. When we bum gunpowder in fire-
works, and, commonly, when we use property to gratify
our appetites, the case is the same. Hence we see the
importance of consuming every valae of tvery kind
which a substance possesses; and also of consuming
nothing for the purposes of gratification, unless for a
reasonable and aueijuate cause.

8. Consumption is either volutUary or invtiunlary.
It is voluntary when we destroy value by desien for
the purpose of accomplishing some ulterior result. It
is involuntary when it takes place by accident. A pile
of wood may be burned in a fireplace for the purpose
of warming a parlour; or, on the other hand, it may be
set on fire by accident, and totally consumed. In the
one case, as in the other, the value is destroyed, the
only difference is in the result.

Besides, however, the consumption by accident, a
oontinual consumption is going on by the ordinary
agents of nature. If a pile of wood is suffered to remain
for a long time exposed to the changes of the weather,
it will be rendered utterly worthless. Its value is thus
as entirely destroyed as it would have been by fire. If
a loaf of bread become mouldy thvongh neglect, its
value is as thoroughly consumed as if it had fulen into
the fire the moment after it had been baked. Vege^
table matter decays — animal matter putrefies — the
metals are corroded; and thus consumption is conti-
nuallv going on, by which the values which we create
will be destroyed unless we watch over them with
perpetual vigilance. Childish, imbecile carelessness is
enough to render any man poor without the aid of a
single positive vice.

4. Consumption is either rapid or graduid. The con-
sumption of wood for fuel is rapid. The consumption
of the axe with which we chop it, or of the fireplace
in which we bum it, is gradual. But the one is going
on as certainly aa the other; and hence in estimating
his expenses, if a man wish to estimate them correctly,
the one must be taken into the account as well as the
other. If a man build a house and occupy it for ten
years, the gradual consumption has materially dimi-
nished its value. If now, at the close of this period,
he estimate the value of the house at its original cost,
he will greatly overrate his property. The same is true
of furniture, and of everything else which we use.

It need scarcely be remarked, that the annual con-
sumption of an individual is the total amount of values
which he consumes, whether in his business or in his
family. Unless his lUinual production be sufficient to
replace the whole of his annual consumption, he will
run in debt. By as much as his annual production
exceeds his annual consumption, he will be growing
richer. Hence the object of eveiy thrifty man is to
render this excess as great as possible.
II. Of the Design of Consumption.
The design of consumption is easily seen. Inasmuch
as consumption is the destruction of some value, it is
of the nature of an infelicity. We never therefore
consume, but with the expectation of procuring some
greater good than that which we annihilate. This good

may ba of two Undi t Fiitt, w« oouniiia ama raloa for
the aaka of proonring another and batter valaa; or,
secondly, we consume a value for the laka of tcatinring
soma appetite or dasira— that is, for tha sake oi in-
oreasing our own penonal happiness.

1. Omuumptionfor the Sake cftkt Inmuttt tf VAm.
— In this manner the farmer consumes seed, manures,
labour, and tools, that he may thus ba mabled to pro-
duce a harvest. The manufacturer consumes raw cotton,
labour, machinery, &c. in order to pioduca cloth. Tha
mantua-maker consumes calico, tnread, needles, and
labour, in order to produce a new drMS. And thus, in
all the various occupations of men, materials of every
kind and labour are consumed for the sake of oraating
some article of use, or convenience, or luxury.

2. ConswnpNon /or Iht Sake qf the Gral^lkaHoit ef
Deeire. — Some of our desires have respect 'to our life,
and health, and comfort. Such are the desiia for food,
clothing, shelter, and the various conveniences by which
the heat of summer and the cold of winter may be
modified. Others are merely for tlie gratification of
the senses, without any regard to the benefit whidi we
derive beyond that of simple sensual pleasure. Such
are the desires for the luxuries of the table, of dress,
equipage, and for those modes of living whidi are de-
manded by fashion. Some of our desires are gratified
by intellectual pleasures, and others by the pleasure of
doing good. It is not necessary that I should enume-
rate all the various modes of expenditure. In general
they consume the value which they appropriate, and all
that remains is the gratification whicn they produce.

or THE DIFFERENT KINDS OF C0N81IMFTI0N.

Consumption is of two kinds — individual and naHenuil.
Individual consumption is of two kinds — first, for the
sake of reproduction: and secondly, for gratification.

Of Individual Consumption for the Sake of Rep^uction.

The design of the consumer in this case is the repro-
duction of capital, in some form different from that
in which the capital is consumed. He would gladly
produce without consumption were it possible. But to
do so is contrary to the law of his being. Consumption
is necessary ; but if a man be wise, he will consume
as little as possible. Production is his remuneration,
and if he be wise, he will render this as great as pos-
sible. His whole gain is the amount by which his pro-
duction exceeds his consumption. The ereater this
excess, the greater will be nia profit. The role by
which he should therefore be govemed, is to create a»
large a product as poisible by the coneumption of aa
email a value at potsible.

The consumption of a producer is of two kind*— of
capital and of labour.

Of Coneumption of Capital. — The principles which
should govern us here are, I suppose, the following : —

1. The consumption of capital should bo as email
in amount as is consistent with the creation of the de-
sired product. A shoemaker who habitually outs up
a side of leather so carelessly that leather sufiScient
for one pair of shoes is wasted, will never grow rich.
The farmer who sows two bushels of seed when one
would have answered as well, loses the half of his seed.
In China, sowing is always done by drilling instead of
broadcast. It has been computed that by this method
as much grain is saved as would feed the whole popu-
lation of Great Britain. The useless expenditure of
fuel in Britain is enormous. It is supposed that not
more than one-tenth of the heat of the fuel employed
is rendered available in a common fireplace.

2. Capital o( no greatei' value than is n«oe«sary should
be employed to create the desired product. Thus it is
for the interest of every producer to ascertain in what
manner he may be able to accomplish his puipose, by
the consumption of the least valuable materials. The
merchant inquires before he imports a product fi«m a
foreign country, with what export he can procure it at
the cheapest rate. So the manufaetuiw, if he be wise,
will keep himself informed of tha progress of science

495

CHAMBnurS mOULLHO}! fOB TBI PIOFUB.

and of the arU, thM h* may iMm in whal mMUMT a
ohwptr artioU mar ba wbiUUitad fcr a daanr la Um
OMaaoDofUaiNmiiul. A ftHaaa haa fka^uartl^ baj«
tMliatd by tha dtoeoTaijr of a e k aaya r dya^aMi; or tha
•ubttitaMoa of a liiifflo ehaapor matariat ia tho |«laoa of
thai ordinarilT in naa.

8. Unrp fMhIif yommmA bj the material ooniumed
•hooU be rendeiM te Ma but mmmur nmUmbh. Thu
in an oil-mill the flax-aaed from which Unaeed oil hae
been a ap ieieed ia a ralaabla food for cattle. Alter the
brewer haa extraoled the laoeharine matter firom barlajr,
the graiaa, ae thejr aro called, are valuable for the
•ame purpoae. The tau bark, after the tanning matter
hai bew extraoted, ii Taluable for fuel. Thia eoonomjr
of material* ia lerj well illuitrated in the manoihetura
of oombi. In a well-conducted eatabliihment of this
kind, OTary part of the horn, the core, tlM body, the
tip, the ihaTings, the fat, and the muoilaft, are all
turned to tome aTailable purpoie.

Nor ii thia all. The raluea which are oonaamed
ehould be eoMMNMrf to the vtrp latl. That in the work-
ing of a ttnun-engine it it neceitary to otoIto a great
aoMunt of oaloric, and thii it the mott expentire pact
of the proceta. Now economy demanda that thii oalorio
ahould be produced at the leai« poiiible ezpenie, and
that haring been produced, it thould be uied for CTery
purpoie that it can be made to terre. But eTory one
uiuit haTo perceired, by the flame whidi eicapet from
the chimney of a furnace, that a Teiy laige portion of
the caloric evolved it abaolutely waeted. A very great
economical improvement haa of late been made in
aoroe of the iron-workt in Great Britain. Thia caloric,
which wa* formerly waited, ia need to heat the air
which ii blown into the furnace. By thii expedient a
ve^ great laving of fuel it accompliined.

Couitmpiiom qf Labour. — Ai labour ii expeniive in
the tame manner aa capital, economy teachei us to
conaume preciaely aa much of it aa it neoeemry to ac-
compliih our purpoie in the belt powible manner.

1. We ihoiud employ no tiuire labour than ia neoet-
Mury. Too many labouren will alwaya eneoum||e each
ether in idleaeei. When there ia one man at leiiare to
tell iteriee, the time of aeveral othera muit be ooninmed
in liatenius to them.

3. We ihould employ no U— labour than ii neeea-
aaiy. When, from want of a lufficient number of
labouren, one labourer ia obliged to perfbnn leveral
kindi of work, we loee the advantage of diviiion of
labour, and alto expow ouraelvea to all the inoonve-
niencM of oonAuion and diiorder.

3. We ihould employ labour of no AioAer prtce than
ia neeeiiaiy. In any exteniive operation, it will be
eeen upon reflection that aome parti of the procew re-
quire more ikill and attention thait othen. Some will
nequire labour worth five or ten thillingi a day, and
othen labour worth not more than eigfatpence or one
ahilling a day. It it of great importanoe in any large
eatabluhment lo to arrange the labouren that no work-
man ihall be employed at a hi,;her price than the
labour which he pcrformi ii actually worth. It it,
however, to be remarked that an error may exivt of the
Mtpoiite kind. It it ai bad ecoiiomy to employ too
cheap ai too dear labour. In the one cate we loie by
paying too hi^h a price for labour, in the other by that
deetruction of raateriali which alwayi leiulti from the
want of ikill in a labourer.

4. The labonr which we have paid for ihould aU be
per/ormtd. Time ii monej^to lum at leaet who payi
money for it. If it be waalad, hia money it thrown
away; and by throwing away money no one ever be-
came rich.

In order to eecure thii reiult, ie>-eral thing! muit,
however, be attended to. The moit important of these
:i, that he who employe labouren dhould in penon
•uperintend hit own afiain. No one will take aa much
intereit in our own conoema aa ounelvet. When thii
cannot be done, the ertabliahment ihould be to arranged
at to iniure full and vigilant nperintendenoe over
every part, and under raeh laiponaibilitiea ai will
496

htfaig a kaowladfe of any deltnqaenoy to the not^ of
the eenpetant authority. Beiidee thii, much time ii
MTed by ayMem and regularity. When one ii obliged
to wait for another, madi labour b of necMiity waited.
Toole ihould alwaya be in the beet poitible condition.
Thii ta^eetime, and takee away one of the meet com-
mon excuMi for negligence.

C^ceuuoiptlan Imt OnUCoatioa.
Coninmption may be conducted upon eoonomioal
prinoiplei or the revene. It ii clearly the intereJt of
every individual that he ihould not ooniume hii capital
bv expenditure upon object! which Wre to yield him no
{ueaauK or profit of any kind; that everything he pur-
ohaiM ihould be coniumed ai thorouahly ai ponible,
and not in any reipeot waited. In thit way no labour
ii Idt. It ii the Mune with national coniumption or
expenditure. When the public monev ii ipent upon
war, upon idle Ainctionariei or lineouriiti, or upon any
kind of public work which it not to be either directly
or indirectly uieful, the labour which produced that
money ii loit, or hai gone in vain. It ii nothing in
inch caiei to lay that money hai been circulated, that
employment hai been given, and lo forth. Men do
not abaolutely need to be kept working in any particular
way, and every idle ooaiumer of othen' goodi than hit
own it a loaroo of loii to the community. The labour
could have been applied otherwise, and to a uteful in-
itead of a neelesi end. * Then it one duty,' says a
recent writer, ' very often ottentatioutly profetted by
the richer to the working and trading claiaee, from
which political economieti would readiW grant them
an exemption — the tpmdiim of mon«y fto' the good of
trade. People have been known to claim credit for this
amiable motive not only when pomp andihixury are in
reality the exciting causes of their purchidea, but even
when they fail to pay the price of what they have ob-
tmned. The epistolary and miscellaneous literature of
the eighteenth oentuiy ihowt that it wat lometiraei a
fixed creed, eepecially in France, that if the rich did
not ipend their monev on a certain humane and
rational lealo, the world of tradeimen and labourers
mait neeeMarily itarre. There it, however, a material
diflBnenoe betw e en what it tptnt in the ordinary accep-
tation of the term, and what it devoted to productive
purpoiea. In the latter caie, whoever receivei the
money in hii handi,be he ipeculator or workman, must
reiton lomething at leaat equal to it in value, if not
more valuable. But ipending doei not involve this
phenomenon in all iti gradei. Much of the money dis-
persed around him by an extravagant man is ooniumed
in thii or that itage; it very leldom leaves behind it

val le nearly equal to iti amount If it be right

to preach that men ihould tpend money for the mod of
trade, economy ought to be dumb; it it a paltry nouse-
hold quality that mutt link before the philanthropic
ipirit of animating trade aiid labour by expenditure.
We do not find, however, that any one darei thus to
let the two virtuei in aiitagoniim against each other.
When people speak of encouraging trade, they do an
generally, and without refennce to any antagonistic
principle; and if it were asked Whether it were more
consistent with duty, both public and private, to spend
a sum which would be missed in the household for the
benefit of trade, or to retain it for home purposes, it
would be difficult to find any one prepared seriously to
support the former line of expenditure. In fact, when
expenditure for the benefit of trade comet to be con-
lidered along with other lerioui utei of the pecuniaty
meant of a family, they never are deliberately weighed
againit each other, and the philanthropic motive re-
mains forgotten until the bead of the house grows rich.'

*** W« Iiavo to acknowIodKe onraclrei Indebted for the abovo
skutc'Ii of tho Bcicnoo of Political Economy to an American
writer. It In abridged, with a fcw alterationa, from a smnll
work entitled * Thu KIcmvnta of Political Economy, by Franiia
Wayland, U.D., President of Brown Vntvcrslty.' Boston, United
States, 1837.

COMMERCE-MONEY-BANKS.

COMMERCE.

Mah hM been defined hj aome natunUiite m an ex-
ehamgimg animal— an animal who buyi and leUe— that
being an act performed by no other liring oreature,
and therefore suitable ai a dietinction in character,
though othen, much more eialted, might nMtdlly be
found. The practice of exchanging one commodity for
another it doubtlcM coeral with the first herding of
mankind together. No man, eren in the rudeit savage
state, and who Urea in the society of neighbours, can
rest satisfied with such objects as he can procure or
fMhion by his own labour. He must depend on utheia
for assistance, while he auists them iii return. The
cultivator of the ground would exchange some of its
produce for an animal from the flocks of nis neighbour;
and both would be glad to give a portion of their wealth
for the clothing or weapons made by a third party.
Thus tsehanging becomes a matter of conTenience
between two parties, each of whom is anxious to obtain
a share of the other's goods for a share of his own, and
a mutual advantage is the result. Such dosires and
practices must have been displayed in the very earliest
stages of society. No nation of African or Indian
savages is ever found without a strong inclination to
exchange the rude products of their country for the
articles possessed by the traveller; an ox or sheep
beine perhaps eagerly offered by them for a single
needle, a naU, or a sntall toy looking-glass.

As mankind advance in their social condition, the
practice o£ exchanging increases; the desires and neces-
sities become more urgent; each person finds it more
profitable and agreeable to adopt and hold by one fixed
employment, and to sell the produce of his labour for
a variety of articles made by others, than to attempt to
make everything for himself; and finally, for the sake
of convenience, a class of perwns are engaged to con-
duct the exchanges from one hand to another. In
this improved condition, the production of articles of
general consumption is called manufaoturing ; while
that department of induktiy in which the exchanging
is transacted is called trade or eommeree. For stiU
further convenience, the business of exchanging is com-
mitted to several orders of traders — the wholesale
merdiants, who in the first instance purchase large
quantitiee of goods from the producers; the retail
dealers, who have been supplied in smaller quantities
from the merchants, and sell individual articles or
minute portions to the public; and to these sometimes
an intermediate dealer is added. In this manner the
transfer from the workshop of the manufacturer to the
house of the actual consumer is interrupted by several
distinct processes of exchange, in which each seller
obtains a certain profit at the expense of the person
who has ultimately to buy and use the article. It is a
principle of trade, that the fewer hands through which
any article is made to pass the better for the con-
sumer, because the article can be brought with the
loast burthen of profits, or at the lowest price, into
general use. But this principle, sound as it is in the
abstract, is counteracted by another, which must on
no account be lost sight of. This is the principle of
eonvetuetue. A manufacturer engaged deeply in his
own pursuits finds it more profitable and agreeable to
sell his articles in large than small quantities. The
mi^er of millions of yards of cloth has no time to spend
in selling single yards. If he were compelled to sell by
retail, he would have no time to conduct his affairs; he
could manuiiMitare only a small quantity, and therefore
being limited in his amount of produce and sales, he
must take larger profits. Thus, upon the whole, it if
No. 82.

much better 1 U concerned to allow the mannflM-
turer to pursui own way in lellinc only very large
quantities to wholesale merchants. To these tradan
tne same rule may be applied. They seek out the
seats of manufacture, and purchaeing a large variety
of goods, they send them to the towns and {wcee where
they are re(]^uired by the public, and there the artidee
can be had individually from a shop. It is evident that
if any man wish to buy a handkerdiief, he may procure
it much more cheaply from any shop in wlucn such
things are sold at an advance upon the oridnal cost,
than if he were to travel perhaps hundreds ot miles to
the house of the manufacturer, and there make the
purchase. The use of an intermediate class to conduct
exchanges is thus very conspicuous; and any attempt
to revert generally to the original practice of causing
the maker to deal with the consumer, would be entirely
incompatible with an enlarged system of trade between
different countries, or even between different places in
the same country. We say generally, because there
are instances in which makers may, with advantage to
themselves and the community, sell their produce in
small quantities or single articles to the public ; but
these are exceptions to a common rule.

Convenience — which is for the most part but another
name for time, or labour, or capital — forms, it is evident,
a guiding principle of trade, and requires the same
consideration as the actual value of an article. This,
however, has been recognised only in very recent times.
At one period there were laws to prevent farmers from
selling their grain in a large quantity or by the lump,
without exposing it in an open market. Such laws
were manifestly unjust. They interfered with the liberty
of the farmer, who, in his capacity of manufacturer, had
surelpr a right to sell his produce in whichever way he
felt it to be most for his advantage. It would be the
same kind of injustice if the law, for example, were
to prevent a manufacturer of handkerchiefs from sell-
ing them at his own workshop to wholesale dealers,
and causing him to take them many miles to a certain
street in a certain town, and there expose them for. sale
in small lots to the public. It is of the greatest im-
portance in matters of trade and commerce never to in-
terfere in any thape to prevent men from dealing in
whatever manner appear* most beneficial and convenient
to themtelvea, provided it be conformable with strict ju*-
tice. Sellers, of whatever grade, being left to consult
their own interest and inclinations, the public in the
end, though probably in a way not easily recognisable
by an unreflecting mind, reaps the advantage.

Commerce, by which we comprehend tr^c carried
on at home or with foreign countries, is of great anti-
quity, and both in the earliest times and in our own day
has been one of the principal engines of civilisation.
Among the industrious nations which at a remote
period of history were planted on the borders of the
Mediterranean Sea, it became a means of spreading
knowledge in the interior of Asia, and many parts of
Africa and Europe. Unfortunately, the intelligence
which was so disseminated was afterwards obliterated
by the overruling powers of barbarous and warlike
nations; but the efficacy of commerce in modem times
is likely to be permanent wherever its influence is ex-
tended, seeing that the greatest manufacturing and
mercantile people are at the same time the most power-
ful and most capable of offering protection to those who
sustain a commercial intercourse with them. It is ex-
ceedingly pleasing thus to reflect on what commerce is
capable of effecting, independent of the actual comfort
which it produces wherever it is furly introduced. By
its iq|>peau to t)ie selfishness, the vanity, and other pos-
■ionf, good »n4 bad, of mankind, it appears to be the

497

oBAiounm nrroBianoH woi tbm novuL

bMt of all fomoiuMn to th« albito of tli« MhooliBMlw
mad tho mlnlonwy. l*f ta«u«oo to tUi t^mot bM
boon rtmarkkblT •sompUflod in Om bouadlMi ngiou of
HindoottM. which, hr tho fnit of » eompMiT of mor-
<<hM>(«, h»TO bMO l*la opon to tho MttUmout of onlight>
oncd mon horn Europo. who, though by ilow dogroof,
will ultim»toly ipiMMl tho bloiiingi of oducation and tho
daeoneiM of looiAl lifo among roanf millioiu of human
boiag*. In tho nmoto iilanoo in tho Pacific Ocean, tho
inlaonco of oommorao hat boon recently of marked
ntllity. The introduction of articlee of a fanciful
■atore, both for the omamontioc rnd covering of the
perton, haa induced a doiire of following European
mannen and ouitomi; and aa theeo commoditiea can-
not be procured but by the exchange of natire com-
moditioi, a apirit of industry haa ooniaquently been
produced which cannot fail to bo of both moral and
phyiioal adrantage to the natiToa. It it alwaya thua
with the intercoune which oommerce neoeiiarily in>
ToWea. New taatea are created, and to be gratified
induatiy muet be exerted. But to witneis the extra-
erdinarjr influenoe of commerce in producing oiTiliied
and refined habiti, we need not look beyond our own
country. Commerce, in this its chosen seat, has caused
roads ererywhere to be out, canals to be opened, rail-
ways to bo formed, expeditious modes of traTolling and
communicating by sea and land to be effected; all of
which great accessories to our comfort have tended in
the most iTonderful manner to introduce not only use-
ful ooramodities and personal luxuries, but highly cul-
tivated lentiments, literature, and the arts, mto dis-
tricts which at no distant period lay in a comparatively
primitive condition. The intercourse which commerce
in this manner requires is the grand lever which, it is
apparent, must in the first place be employed to lift
the load of ignorance from off the natives of Africa and
other barbarous regions; and when this lever is pro-
perly insinuated, the way will soon be prepared for the
introduction of those measures of melioration which
philanthropists so anxiously design.

It is obvious that this scheme of mutual interchange
among nationa of (he commodities which they respec-
tively produce is agreeable to every rational prin-
ciple, and must have been designed by a wise Provi-
dence for the universal benefit of His creatures. In
order that manufactures may be produced, and com-
merce brought in to disseminate them both at home
and abroad where they are wanted, no species of legisla-
tive enactment is requisite either to encourage or direct.
The law which governs production and consumption is
a law of nature — it is the overruling principle of mI/-
interetl, by which only that quantity of manufactures
is produced which can be advantageously dispoeed oi,
ana only those commodities purchased and consumed
which the wants of individuals require. And curiously
enough, this principle of self-interest, if allowed free
scope, is uniformly and sufficiently competent to regulate
both the production and consumption of commodities,
to a degree more nice and satisfactory than could be
attained by the best devised statutes which the wisest
legislators could enact. The grand principle, therefore,
which can alone regulate commerce and manufactures
is found in the natural passion for gain; and the sole
essential requisite for the successful advancement of
mercantile and manufacturing industry and wealth
among any people, is for that people to be unfettered
by euactiueiits ; each one buying and selling when,
where, and at what price he pleases.

Evident as these principles must be to all who have
any knowledge of social life, they have, either firom igno-
rance or some other cause, been generelly lost sight of
by governments in all agesof the world, and plans have
been contrived to regulate that which, if left alone,
would have much better regulated itself. To such an
extent have regulating and restrictive lawibeen carried
in some countries, that they have neariy annihilated
both manufactures and legitimate commeree, and re-
duced masses of the people to the condition of paupen,
boaidet anooonging tha penidoui aad dmonduing
498

Sunaita of tha mtttifin. Tho Nttrictiona aad itgn.
itiona which governments usually impose upon com-
meroo do not pvhapa origiaata so much in tha plea
that manufaoturti* and merehanU stand in the condi-
tion of children, and require to be taken care of lest
they should hurt themselves, as from the unfortunate
exigencies under which the governments happen to be
placed. They have all less or more engaged in wars,
which have been conducted at an enormous expense to
their respective countries. In order to liquidate these
expenses, all kinds of taxes are levied, direetly and
indirectly; but as the levying of theeo taxes breeds
discontent, large bodies of military have usually to be
kept up, to act aa an armed national polioe. Thus the
people of these countriea have for ages to go on paying
not only the price of the wars, or the interest of the
sums borrowed and laid out upon the wars, but aa much
mora for the military force afterwards imposed upon
them. What is mora distressing, the people have pro-
bably to give a deal of money, in order that their re-
spective ffovemments may be the more able to secure
tne attaonment of men of consequence to assist in
allaying the general clamours for a radress of grievances.
This is a very rough view of the matter, but it is enough
to show the dreadtiil exigencies into which nations fall
by their engaging in wars or other expensive follies.
In whatever manner, however, national exigencies ori-
ginate, the plan pursued for relief consists ehiefiy in
the imposition of duties on certain commodities much
in demand, and at varions stages of their manufacture,
transminion, and sale. J^ is likewise customary to
impose duties on goods imported from foreign coun-
tries, with the view of pi-ctficting the manufacturers of
such articles in this rjuitry ; but this only benefits
a class, or a few persons, r.t the expense of the whole
community, and therefore ill such duties are in the
main as detrimental to trade and tha public welfare as
those imposed for the liquidation of national debt and
expenditure. For further obaervations in relation to
this subiect, we refer to the article Poutical Economt.
' There is,' observes Mr M'CuUoch in his ' Dictionary of
Commerce,' * no juj^lery in commerce. Whether it be
carried on between mdividuals of tha same country, or
of diffe.- «nt countries, it is in all oasea bottomed on a fair
prinoipi > . i' Mciproeitr. Those who will not buv need
not expect to tni, and conversely. It is impossible to
export without making a corresponding importation.
We get nothing from the foreigner gratuitously; and
hence, when we prevent the importation of pioduce from
abroad, we prevent by the ver^ same act the exporta-
tion of an equal amount of British produce. All that
the exclusion of foreign commodities ever effects, ^s the
substitution of one sort of demand for another. It has
been said, that ** when we drink beer and porter we
consume tho produce of English industrr, whereas,
when we drink port or claret we consume the produce
of the industiy of the Portuguese and French, to the
obvious advantage of the latter, and the prejudice of
our countrymen I " But how paradoxical soever the as-
sertion ma^ at first sight appear, there is not at bottom
any real distinction tetween the two cases. What is
it that induces foreignera to supply us with port and
claret t The answer is obvious: — We either send di-
rectly to Portugal and France <m egvivaltnt in BrilUh
produce, or we send such equivalent, in the first place,
to South America for bullion, and then send that bullion
to the continent to pay for tho wine. And hence it is
as clear as the mm at noonday, that the Enslishman
who drinks only French wine, who eats only bread
made of Polish wheat, and who wears only Saxon cloth,
gives, by occasioning the exportation of a corresponding
amount of British cotton, nardware, leather, or other
produce, the same enconragement to the industry of his
countrymen that he would were he to consume nothing
not immediately produced at heme. A quantity of
port wine and a quantity of Birmingham goods are
respectively of the same value; so dat whether we
directly consume the hardware, or having exchanged
it ftr tb« wiM^ oonaon* the latter, in ao fitr aa tha

CO]

tnnl«7aint «f Britiah f« natlTt labour ia eeiiMnad M Mnci<t«ra
k lUlogatlMr IndiiiHmt.' no fri>

From UioM oxplukUoiii, U will bo obiomd that it If Iheru
ii imnutorial what ii girtn in •zehaago for inportod it a tltln^,
gooda— whether mon«7 or natiToprodue*. Attheiame of prirata'
time it muit be undentood that if moner ie given,
then muit eiiit lome aetiTO induitry in the country
bjr which the monejr ie realieed. A* a general queation
in commerce, it ia of no ooniequence what ia the nature
of the induatiy bjr which the money ia produced. It
may conaiat in the raiaing of auperabnndant oropa, or
other raw produce for exportation, or of manufacturing
raw and eomparatiTeW Talueleis materiala into artidea
of value and demand, or of carrying gooda from one
country to another. Unlen a country poaaeae one or
more of thete branchea of induatir, it la without the
meana of payine for imported articlea, and muat retire
from the field of general commerce. England ia not of
aufBdently large dimonaiona to export auperabundant
cropa of grftiii, but it poiaetaee in an extraordinary
dwree the meuna of manufacturing mineral and other
aubatancea into articlea for exchange, and it derivea no
inoonaiderable profit from the carrying of commoditiea.
Ita manufactured gooda, therefore, par for importa of
foreign artidee, including bullion or tae raw material
of money, and theee again, in a manufactured atate, are
a fUnd for the payment of atill further importa. Thua
the wealth of our country haa inereaaed.

PBiNanxB or comunca.

The practice of commerce b in a great meaaure de-
pendent on mutual good faith, and the integrity of aeller
and buyer, and can in no caae permanentlv flouriah
where theae fundamental qualitiea aro wanting. The
firit or great leading Quality, therefore, in the charac-
ter of a merchant oudnt to bie acrupuloua honeaty both
in word and deed. The article which he propoaea to
diapoae of muat bo exactly what he declarea it to be,
not inferior or in any reapect uuaound in ita nature. If
it poeaeaa anr blemiahee, theae muat be announced to
the buver before the bai^gain ia concluded, and if neoea-
tary, though at a conaiderable loaa, an allowance made
for them. The merchant ia not leia called on to be
faithful in the fuldlment of all promiaee which he may
malte, whether with reapect to gooda or their payment;
becauae thoae to whom the promiaea have been made
may on that account have made aimilar promiaea to
othera, and therefore the breaking of a aingle promiae
may prore injurioua in every link of a whole train of
tranaaotiona. Perfect honeaty or integrity ia a funda-
mental principle of trade ; and the next moat import-
ant are atriot regularity in all proceedinga, aocoriling
to eatablithed uaage, and alao eteady peraeveranoe. The
merchant muat give regular attendance during the houra
of burineia; be regular in executing all ordera and an-
awering all lettera; regular in the keeping of hia booka,
and in the reckonbig of hia atock and moniea; in abort,
he muat be methodic and careful in all branchea of hb
conoema, for without thia apecies of attention the beat
busineaa ia apt to become ooniUaed, and to be ultimately
ruined. What ia true of individuala holda true alio
when applied to a whole nation. No people have ever
attained opulence and high mercantile conaideration
who have not poaaeaaed a character for integrity and
regularity in all their dealinga.

Beaidea thete indiapeniable qualitiea in the individual
character of a merchant ortradeaman, there ia required
a happy combination of enterpriae and prudence with
the utmoat coolneia — enterpriae to embrace favourable
opportunitiea of buying and aeUing, and prudence and
coolneia to reatrain from enganne in over-haxardoua
and ruinoua apeculationa. In all nia tranaaotiona, the
man of buaineaa ia underatood to proceed upon a cool,
inflexible principle of doing that which ia moat adran-
tageoua for himaelf, without fear or favour ; becauae in
commerce each party ia auppoaed to be governed by
motivea of aelf - intereat (uwaya within the rulea of
honeaty and propriety), and ia under no obligation to
deal from mere peraonij regard, or any kind of friendly

111 '»min'

<n (Im ordin

ndahip am

11'!' from bii

arraDgement— Miii

here It, BtrietlY tpeaUBg.
M'ceptation of the term,
the parr >mu«emed, tt

W trinsn >- a Uatt»

ii i.t " ^^ardH »

.niKii t in»im»

a««liiig, »>

hi»»«< lie

lual
llg of c. ,

auch. On thia account, even

frienda, there muat be an exact <

the moat accurate counting and n > k'

The Britiah, for leveral centuries
endowed above all other nationa v.
of mind which are auitable for the oooduutu!
meroe ou ao enhuged and liberal acale. Their intesrity,
penevering induatry, enterpriae, prudence, and libeitL-
litT of aentlment, hare never been excelled. In patient
induitrv they have Heen riralled by the Dutch; but in
pointer enterpriae and liberality that people have fallen
far abort of them, and their trade haa languiahed
accordingly. The Britiah are pre-eminently a eom>
meroial at well aa a manufacturing people. Td^ing
them generally, thev poaaeae a apirit of reatleaa indue-
try, which rendera them aotually unhappy unleio when
buaily engaged in aome puriuit calculated to enrich
them, or at leaat to produce for their familiei the meana
of a reapectable auUiatence. The Americana, who ar«
but a branch of the aame Britiah atock, are equally if
not more remarkable for thia ferrent apirit of induatry;
and thouffh only aet up aa a aeparate nation within a
comparatively recent period, and leia diatinguinhed for
their integrity and prudence than thf Engliah, have
already diatanced many of thoae diguiiied European
principalitiea and powera which firat diacorered and
coloniaed their country. The French, the Germane, the
Spaniarda, the Portugueae, the Itaiiana, and othera,
though each poaaeaaing a larger or imaller extent of
manufacturee and commerce, are obviouily deficient in
a national aenae of the eager apirit of induatry which it
to characteriatio of the people of Great Britain. Taken
in the groaa, they are too apt to addict theroaelvea to
amuaement in preference to buaineaa. They delight
in holidaya, and will at any time leave their work to
mingle in a dance or aome kind of bufTooneiy in which
an Engliahman would be aahamed to appear. Scarcely
one of the continental nationa, moreover, haa yet lettled
down under a well-conducted government appointed W
the people. There indeed aeema to be little which ft
aettled amongat them. Some of the principal are yet
at that atage of aocial life which waa common in Eng-
land about the reint of Henry VII. ; othera are net
farther advanced than a period conaiderably earlier |
and all have yet much to auffer and to learn before
thev attain that atate of quietude and aecurity to life
and property, that condition of domeatic comfort and
national prosperity, which Great Britain, with all itt
imperfeotiona, ao amply enjoya.

COHHEBCUL TERMS AND TRANSACriOHS.

The following explanationa of the principal termt
uaed in commerce will illustrate the mode of oonduct-
ingbuainess transactions : —

Firm. — Erery business, whether private or public,
ia conducted under a apecified designation or title,
called the name of the firm. This name may be that
of a aingle indiridual to whom the business belongs, or
of two or more individuals, or aliy title which it may be
found advisable to adopt. Sometimes the name of a
firm remains long after all who are indicated by it are
dead. In such a case the business haa paaaed into the
handa of new proprietors, who, though legally reapon-
sible for ita obligationa, are not for aome private reaaen
inclined to change the old and well-known title of their
firm. A particular firm or buaineaa-coneem ia aome-
timea peraonified in the term houu — aa, Such a house
does a great deal of buaineaa, ftc.

Compmy.—Two or more individuala engaged in one
buaineaa conatitute a company or copartnery, each in-
dividual being called a partner. Companiea are of two
kinda— private and pubbo. A private company ia organ-
iaed by a private arrangement among the paries, each
having certain dutiet to perform, and a certain ahare

499

OHAMBIBffS DTfOMiiMnr tOB THB PIOPLl!.

tn At eoaetni. fn ettmpMliM of 4k« ptri^^M* mi4 turn.
moA dMnrtiitlon no Indltid.'Al «»ii Iwv* th» miimni
M hit own piMtJN. for h doing k b« might tMtomljr
injura or tinlMumM Mt pMtnoh. Ha tia witbdnw
only >ftar fivLig • KMOnkble wftmlns. by which timo
b Kiloirod To wind up tho conoorn, or puoo It In a con-
dition to p»7 bim bftck tbo oftpitkl which ha baa rlikad,
or tha proflta which lira hia due. No putnar, howaver,
mm tnuiifer bia abura to anothar Mwaon, hy which •
Baw mambar would ba introducad into tha Ann without
tha oouaent of tha partnara.

Tha proflta of partnarahlpa ara dWidad according to
a apaoiflad agraamant or deed of copartnerr. Generally
In tha caaa of partnanbipa of two or threa peraona,
each racalraa the aanie ahare on the occaaion of an
animal dWiaion, but in other caiea a partner may not
ba entitled to mora than a fourth or aixth part of what
another receirea. The amount of capital which a
partner Infeata in the concern, tha aenrice he can be to
the buaineta, and other circunittancaa, regulate the
amount of hii ahnro. When each of two peraona linka
the aame capital, but one takea the whole of the trouble,
then he on whom the trouble falla, who ia called the
actiro partner, ia entitled to receive a atated lum in the
form of aalarr orar and above hia ahare of proflta.
Whatever be toe ahare which individual partnera have

in a concern, the whole are equally liable for the debta
incurred by the cotiipttiiy. becauae the public give
credit only on the faitli that the company generally ia
reaponaible. He who draws the amalleit iVaction of
profit, failing the othera, may be compelled to pay the
whole debta. Un thia account every partner, on leaving
a company, ahould be careful to advertiae In the Oaxette
and newapapera that he no longer belonga to the Arm
of which he waa a member; he la then reaponaible for
no debta incurred aubaequeut to the announcement.

Public companiea are very difllbrent: they conaiat of
a large body of partners, or proprietora of aharea, the
aggregate amount of which forma a joint atock, and
hence auch aaaociationa are called joint-itock eompaniet.
They are public, from being eonatituted of all peraona
who chooso to purchaae aharea, and theae aharea or
righta of partnerahip ara alao publicly saleable at any
time without the consent of the company. The value
of a ahare in a joint-atock company la alwaya the price
which it will bring in the market; and this maybe either
mater or less, in any proportion, than the aum which
ita owner atanda credited for in the atock of the com-
pany. Uuleaa specially provided for in the ftindamental
deed of copartuerv, every member of a Jolnt-atook com-
pany ia liable in hia whole jieraonal property nr fortune
for the debta of the concern. In aome iurtancea thia
liability ia obviated by the proviaiona of an act of par-
liament, or parliamentary ciiarter, establiahing the com-
pany. Joint-stock companiea are managed by directora
appointed by the ahareholdera.

It ia an axiom in commerce, that buainess is much
better conducted by single individuala for their own
behoof, than by companiea of any kind ; aa respects
joint-stock aaaociationa, they are ouijr uaeful in very
great concema requiring enormous capital and involv-
ing serious risks of loss.

Capital. — What ia now termed capital waa in former
times called a/odt. The capital of a merchant is strictly
the amount of money which he embarks in his trade,
or trades upon — that ia, emplova for buying gooda,
paying wagea of aervanta, and liquidating all debts
when due. When trading within the limits of hia
capital, buaincM is done upon a secure footing; but if
he proceed beyond these in any material degree, he is
said to be ovtr-trading, and is exposed to the chance of
ruin or very aerioua embarraaament. Trading beyond
the amount of available capital is, nevertheleaa, a pre-
vailing error, and causes innumerable bankruptcies.
With a comparatively amall capital, a tradeaman may
cany on a large buaineaa by receiving payments ahortly
after making hia outlaya. By this means there is a
rapid turning over of money, hnd small profits upon
the various transactions speedily mount up to a large
5(H}

rarttna, Par atMimla, If a tradaaiMM) turn oa«t Ma
capital twelve timaar.' tha year, at each Hme rf^t^wiring
monav fbr what h« sails. h« ean aflbrd to do buimeaa on
a twelve tfanaa laaa praflt than If ha co«ld turn over tha
aama capltil only one* during tha year. ThU Imwla ua
to a conaidaration of orodlt.

CVtdU in buslnesa ia of tha nature of a loan, and
ia founded on a confidence in the Intacrity of tha
paraon credited, or tha borrower. An Individual wishaa
to buy an article fVom a tradeaman, but ha baa not
money to pay fur It, and tequlraa to hava It on credit,
giving either a a]M«ial or implied promiaa to pay ita
value at a Aiture time. Thia is Jtetting eradit; and it
ia dear that tha aeller la a lender to tha buyer. In all
auoh caaea tha aeller moat be remunerated fbr making
hia loan. lie cannot aflbrd to aell on credit on the same
favourable terms as for ready money ; because If he
were to receive the money when he sold the article, he
could lay it out to some advantage, or turn it over v/lth
other portions of his capital. By taking credit the buyer
deprives tha seller of the opportunity of making this
profit, and accordingly he must pay a higher price for
the article, the price being increased in proportion to
the length of eradit. It very ordinarily happaiia that
the aeller himself has purchoaed the article on rradit;
but thia only serves to increase its price to the consumer,
and does not prevent the last leller from charging for
the cred'-t which he gives and the risk of ultimate pay-
ment which he runs. Credit for a short period is
almost easontlal in all great transactions; but when
golnj^ beyond fair and reasonable limits, it acts most
perniciously on trade, by inducing heedless speculation,
and causing an undue increase in the number of dealers
with little or no capital. An excessive competition
among these penniless adventurers is tlM consequence;
each strives to uniiersell the other wifii the hope of
getting money to meet his obligations, and thus vast
quantities of goods are sometimes thrown upon the
market below the original cost, greatly to the injury
of the manufacturer and the regular trader. What
are technically designated 'gluta in the market' fin-
quently enaae f!rom cauaea ofthls nature.

Defoe, who wrote upwarda of a century ago, makea
the fbllowing obaervationa on credit and over-trading
in hia ' Complete English Tradesmaiv ' — ' There are two
things which may properly be call«>d over-trading, and
by both of which tradesmen are often overthrown:
I. Trading beyond their stock [or capital]; 2. Giving
too large credit A tradesman ought to consider and
measure well the extent of hia own atrength: his stock
of money and credit is properly his beginning; for
credit is a stock as well as money. He that takes too
much credit is really in as much danger as he that
|;ives too much credit; and the danger Ues particularly
in this, if the tradesman overbuvs himself— that is,
buys faater than he can sell — buying upon credit, the
payments perhaps become due too soon for him; the
goods not being sold, he must answer the bills upon
the strength of nis proper stock — that is, par for them
out of hia own caah; if that should not hold out, he is
obliged to put oflf his bills after they are due, or suiTer
the impertinence of being dunned by the creditor, and
perhaps by aervanta and apprenticea and that with tho
uaual indecenciea of auch kind of people. Thia im-
paira hia credit, and if he comea to deal with the aame
merchant or clothier, or other tradesman again, he is
treated like one that is but an indifferent paymaster;
and though they may give him credit as before, yet
depending that if he bargaba for aix months, he will
take eight or nine in the payment, they consider it in
the price, and use him accordingly; and this impairs
his gain, so that loss of credit is mdeed loss of money,
and this weakens him both ways.

A tradesman, therefore, especially at his beginning,
ought to be very wary of taking too much credit; it
would be preferable to let slip the occasion of buying
now and then a bargain to nis advantage, for that is
usually the temptation, than buying a greater quantity
of gooda than ho can pay for, run into debt, and be in'.

coBonnGi.

the market' iVe-

mtiUi, Mtd »t iMt ruined. Morcbuta and whoUeale
d«*len, to Dut off their good*, Me very apt to prompt
young ihu). keeper* Mid young tradeimen to buy gre»t
quantitiei of goodi, end t«ke iMge credit U fireti but
it i* ft iiiM* th*t ra»ny a young beginner bM fiUlen
i»t<'. 1 beM luvtted in the tery bud : for if the young
iMguiii.'i Joe* ttrtt find a rent for the quMitity^ he ii
uDiloii«j A<t el the time of payment the merchant ex-
{Hict* hte money, whether the good* are lold or not;
and if he cannot pa^, be ii gone at uuue. The tradee-
roan who buyi WMily, alwayi paye eureiy, and every
young beginner ough^' to buy cautioutly. If he haa
money to pay, ho need nerer fear goode to be had; the
merchant*' wurehouiei Me alwoyi open, Mid he may
•u! ply himself uoon all occaaioui, aa he wanti. and as
hia cuitomers call.' It certainly * it not pouible in a
country where there ii euch an infinite extent of trade
ai we lee managed in thi* kingdom, that either on one
hand or another it can be carried on without a recipro-
cal credit both taken and giien; but it ii (o nice an
affair, that I am of opinion ai many trades men break
with gWing too much credit as break with taking it.
The oanger indeed is 'Jiutual and very great. Wliat-
«ver, then, the young tradesman omits, let him guard
against both gi Ana and taking too much credit.'

Ordtri. — An order is a request from one dealer to
another to supply certain goods. An order, when in
writing, should be plain, explicit, uid contain no more
words than are necessary to convey the sense in a simple,
oourteoue manner. The same rule applies to all letters
of buainew, which, by the oractice of trade, are con-
fined to their legitimate oDJect. Ho that afleuts a
rambling Mid bombastic style, and fills his letters with
long haranguest compliments, and flourishes, should
turn poet instead of tradesman, and set up for a wit,
not a shopkeeper. A tradesman's letters should be
plain, concise, and to the purpose; no quaint expres-
sions, no book phrases; and yet they must be full and
sufBoient to express what he means, so as not to be
doubtful, much less unintelligible. VVo can by no means
approve of studied abbreviations, or leaving out need-
ful conjunctive terms and pronouns in trading letters;
as, for example, * Have just received yours of tlie 1 1th,'
&c.; which ought to be expressed as follows — ' I have
just received your communication of the 1 1th instant,'
&C. The leaving out of pronouns and other words in
a business letter gives it a mean appearance.

Counting-house: in French, bureau; in Dutch, kan-
toor. — The counting-house is the office in which a
merchant's literMy correspondence, book-keepinff, and
other business is conducted. The English merdiant's
counting-house is a model of neatness and regularity.
Its furniture consists chiefly of desks for the clerks,
and the books of the establishment, which are secured
at night in an iron or fire-proof safe. Almost every
different business requires a different set of books, but
the mode uf keeping them is generally the same. The
usual set of books comprises a day-book, in which
sales on credit are individually entered as they occur;
an invoice-book, for the entry of purchases; a ledger,
into which all these entries are engrossed in separate
accounts; a memorandum -book, for enteruig miscel-
laneous transactions; a cash-book, in which every pay-
ment or receipt of money is regulH.' entered; a letter-
book, into which all letters are copied before they are
sent off; and a bill -book, for the entering of bills
payable Mid receivable. In large concerns there are
various other books — as foreign - ledger, town -ledger,
country-ledger, &c. The art of book-keeping is simple.
It requires only a competent knowledge of arith-
metic, and skill in penmanship, with a little train-
ing in the method of entering and posting accounts.
The strictest care and accuracy are desirable. It is an
understood rule, that no book should show a blot or
erasure; a leaf also should nerer on an^ account be torn
out, whatever blotch or error it contams. The reason
for this scrupulous care is, that a merchant's books
should be a clear and faithful mirror of his transac-
tions, and Ml evidence of hia integrity. In the case of

misfortune in trade, or other cireumatinM, tlit booka
may h« aubjected to a rigid judicial examination, and
th4> appeanuice of an eraaura or turn-out letf may lead
to coujccture* of an unpleaaant nature Mid conser|uanoe*.
When an important error occur* ^a book-keeping, it is
better to let it remain and writ* trrtr below it, than
to make a luge erasure or to wit out the leaf.

From the book* kept by a merchatif, a condenNd
view of his affair* ought to be a^inually road* up. This
document ooutains au inventory or list of goods, money
debts owing to the merchant, or other available pro-
perty; also a contra list of all debts and other obliga-
tions due by the merchant. Both being balMiced, the
residue, whether for or against the merchant, is at once
observable. Every person in trade, for at least hit
own satisfaction and government, should make up a
bv^anee-Attl of this nature Minually.

U'tU of I'aretU, — An account or list of itetna of

floods, given to their purchaser by the seller, or de-
ivcred along with the goods at the purchaser's house.
Should a purchaser dispute tho delivery of the goods,
it is necessary to produce proof of the fact; when de-
livered to carriers, a receipt is usually given by sub-
scribing the carrier's parcel-book.

Invoiot. — A bill or account of goods, which is for-
warded sepanitely,announcing thedatoof thoirdespatch,
and the particula conveyance by which they are sent.
If the seller fail to forward mi invoice by post, uid the
goods be lost while on their way, the purchaser '."
answerable. The careful sendiiis of invoices fi ' ,' y
important dutv of a merchMit's clerk.

Carrieri. — Persons who undertake to convey
from one place to another, whether by iMid or wa'^r,
are carriers; and the carrying -trade, as it is called,
forms now a iMf^e and varied department of human
industry. ' Carriers are bound to receive and carry
t^e goods of all (lersons, for a reasonable hire or re-
ward; to take proper care of them in their passage;
to deliver them safely, and in the same condition as
they were received (excepting only such losses as may
Mise from the act of God or the king's enemies) ; or, in
default thereof, to make compensation to the owner for
whatever loss or damage the goods mav have received
while in their custody that might have been prevented.
Hence a carrier is liable, thoujjh ho be robbed of the
goods, or they be taken from him bv irresistible force.
On the same principle, a carrier has been held account-
able for goods accidentally consumed by fire while in
his warehouse.' — At'Cultocn, Violent storms, tempests,
and lightning, are considered to be ' the act of Ood,' or
such as no human precaution could have averted, and
no fraudulent intention could have produced.

Jbill (\f Lading. — A formal acknowledgment or re-
ceipt given b^ sailing-masters for goods put on board
their vessels, including a promise to deliver them safely,
as marked and addressed, to their designed destination;
always, however, excepting loss or injury by the act of
Ood, the king's enemies, fire, or the dangers or accidents
of the sea. This bill of lading is usually a printed form,
filled up with writing, and concludes with the quaint
and pious wish — * And so Ood send the good ship to
her destined port in safety : amen.' A set of two bills
of lading is furnished to the shipper of the goods; one
of which he retains for hia own satisfaction, and the
other is forwarded by post, like an invoice, to the indi-
vidual or company to whom the goods are sent. When
the ship arrives at its destined port, this document
can be employed to cause the captain of the vessel to ,
deliver the goods therein mentioned.

A Manifest is a document containing a specific de-
scription of a ship, her cargo, and passengers. It is
aigned bv the master at tho place of lading.

Drawback. — A term used in reference to those duties
of customs or Excise which are i'?paid by goveniment
on the exportation of tho commodities on which they
are levied. This repayment is made with a view to
enable the exporter to sell bis goods in the foreign
market unburthened with duties. Before shipping goods
upon which drawback is to be claimed, notice must be

301

OHAHBEBCra UmntMiflOS rOB THX PEOFLS.

given to th» EzdN. udar whoM inapeefion th^ an

packed and eealed tat dUpment.
i)«iM(w«. — ^Thi« it tk« name of a fbnnal certifloate

employed to reoorer a oertain amount of drawbadc of

dutiM ftom the eiutomlioaM on gooda exported. The
exporter drawa up and eigne the oertifioate, the iigna-
ture being atteeted by a raagiitrate ; and being forwarded
to the cuetomhouae, it ia compared with the return of
the officer who haa aeen the gooda packed and aealed.
After a certain period haa elapaed the dutiea are paid
to the exporter. The meaning of thia tranaaotion ia,
that on exporting gooda, any goremment duty that
may hare been impoaed upon them ia paid back to the
vxporter, so aa to relieve the foreign or colonial receiver
from the burthen of uaing taxed oommoditiea. It alao
acta aa a bounty on exportation.

The word 'debenture' haa another i^jplication : it
•ignifiea a certificate of mortgfage or loan on railway or
other public worka. Debenturea of thia claaa are docu-
menta briefly and airoply expreaaed, conveying autho-
rity to the holder to aeize the property implMged, on
the event of the obligationa of the deed not being ful-
filled. Along with these debenturea are given a aheet
of separate ordera to receive pajrment of intereat at
i^pointed terma. These ordeia being cut off for pre-
■entation for payment, are called coupoiu,

CftuUmt — Exeite. — The dutiea or taxea impoaed upon
gooda entering or going out of the oountiy are called
cn»t»m», and thoae imposed upon gooda at the period
of their manufacture in the country are called iiiceite
dutifi. Both form a prime element in the national
revenue, and are levied by boarda of cuatoma and Ex-
ciae, each having an extensive ramification of aubordi-
nate functionariea, for the imposition and collection of
the dutiea. A customhouse ia established at every prin-
cipal port. Nearly all customs and Excise dutiea muat
be paid at the time the goula are passed through the
handa of the officera of either department, and fall in
the first instance on the merchant and manufacturer.
They, however, enhance the price of the oommoditiea,
and are therefore ultimately paid by the consumer.
For the accommodation of merchants, the cuatomhouaea
in the dilfttent chief ports poaaess lat^ waiehouaea or
depots for gooda, called bonded warehouM*. Gooda
auDject to duty may, on importation, be consigned to
these dep6ta, where they are allowed to remain till the
merchant finds it convenient to remove them, and pay
the accustomed dutiea. Until removed, therefore, the
commoditiea in bond can hardly be aaid to be imported
into the country, being in the condition of gooda atill
lying in a foreign port.

Smuggling ia the common term for contraband trad-
ing, or import'.^ g. is without paying duty. 'This
ia a practice,' -aya an experienced commerrialist, ' which
can only be a<. '^ped by a moderate tariff. When duties
are excessive, e.-perience haa ahown that an illegal
traffic will be created which no power or ingenuity can
put down. The abolition of amuggling, by wiae and
moderate l^alation, is desirable, moreover, on higher
grounds. The moral influence of the law is impaired
when it first tempts to its own violation, and then
puniahea ; for a ayropathy ia thereby created in favour
of the breakera of it.' At preaeiit. Great Britain pays
Upwards of half a million annually for the prot«tction
t>i her cuatoma againat contraband trading I

Tariff, or tartf, ia the term applied to a table of the
articlea aubject to cuatomhonte and Exciae dutiea, with
their •^pective ratea.

Q^cial and Declared Value. — All gooda exported are I
•ntenHl in the cu'^omhouae booka as of ao much official
vcUue, Thia va' <- . quite illuaive aa reapects the real
value of the arti^ .. The official valuation ia accord-
ing to an estimate of the date 1694, without reference
to the alteration of prices since that period, Knowing
the fixed official mice, we may be able to estimate the
exact quantities, but thia ia a matter iriiich few private
indiridualt underatand. The declared valve ia the
price announced by the exrwrtera of the gooda, and
amonnta to nothing more tun a rough estimate ; it
£08

being ne e ae aM T onhr to dadut the value at aomathinit
near the reality, for pnrpoaaa of taxation, or making
up reporta of the expwt trade.

lAigdfe. — Lloyd ia not the daeipiation of any indivi-
dual or of any company : it ia a title uaed in reference
to a tet of aubacription looma, or coffee-houae (originally
kept by a peraon of the name of Lloyd), aituated in the
Royal Excnange buildinga, London. One of the rooma
at Lloyd'a (for a hiatoricid account of which aee * Cham-
bera'a Journal,' No. Ill, New Seriea) ia devoted to aub-
acribera who follow the profeaaion of marine inauren,
technically called wtuienerifera, from their writing under,
or aubaeribing to, certain obligationa in deeda preaented
for their acceptance. When a peraun wiahea to inaure a
ahip, or gooda in a ahip, againat damage or loaa at aea,
he offera the riak to theae underwritera, and they are
at liberty to accept it for a apecified premium. The
poU«7, or deed expreeaive of tne inavxance, ia uanally
aigned by more than one underwriter, ao aa to divide
the riak. Lloyd'a ia not only a centre point in the
metropolia for all aea -insurance buaineaa, but ia the
place to which every apeciea of intelligence reapeeting
ahipping ia forwarded from all paita of the worid; and
thia innirmation ia exhibited publicly in one of the
rooma for the inapection of alt. The intelligenoe ia
for the moat part aent by appointed agenta, one port
of whoae duty conaiata in inveatigating the cause of
damage to veaaela, and taking chajrge of wrecked pro-
perty, for behoof of the underwriters, whoever they may
be. The lists made up and exhibited at Lloyd's fur-
nish authentic information for the use of merehanta and
ahippera of gooda all over the United Kingdom.

Vmimt, — ^lliia ia a colonial phraae, uaed inatead of
pMic aueeMm. To aell gooda at vendue it to diapoae
of them at auction. The place of aak ia aometimcs
called 'the Vendue.'

IhOch Avetion. — In common auction, the highest
bidder by competition ia the pnrdiaaer; but according
to the prooeaa of sale called Dutch Auction, there is
a difierent mode of determining tiie auooeaeful bidder.
Accordincr to thia plan, the att&e ia put up at a cer-
tain nominal price, which ia gradually lowered, and
the first who apeaka and oflert the aum mentioned by
the auctioneer is at once knocked down aa the pur-
chaaer. This ia the fairest mode of auctioneering; it
prevents competition, and the article bringa ita exact
value — that which it ia worth in the eatimation of
thoae present.

Inaohency, Bankruptet/. — When a person ia not in
circumatanoea to pay hit debts in full, he ia ituohefU,
which ia nearly equivalent to being bankrupt: the
term bankrupt, however, ia more commonly applied to
one who ia legijly announced or gaeetted aa being in-
aolvent. The term bankrupt ia derived from battcus, a
bendi, and ruptui, broken; in alluaion to the benches
formerly uaed by the money-dealera in Italy, which
were broken in caae of their failure to pay their debts.
The law preacribea a certain form of procedure in the
caae of commercial insolvency, whidi has the efiect of
deliberatelv investigating the cause of the misfortune,
and relievmg the bankrupt from all obligationa, on
yielding up hia entire pixiperty.' Only peraona in trade
are entitled to the benefit of thia bankrupt law, all
othera being excluded ; ao that, in the event of their
insolvency, they muat submit to the common laws re-
specting debtors, which are in some respects veiy
rigorous. A bankrupt who haa received a diachargo or
certificate from a competent authority, being releaeed
from all pecuniary claima, may again enter business
for hia own behoof without any fear of molestation;
but a debtor who haa merely taken the benefit of the
Inaolvent Act in England, or process of Cetsio Bonorum
in Scotland, though imauediately relieved from prison,
and left at liberty to pursue any line of industry, the
property he may accumulate ia at all timea liable to
aeizure by hia former creditors.

A commiaaion of bankruptcy in Scotland ia entitled
a etqueetration, meaning that the property of the bank-
rupt i$ offidkUy wqueateied, or tuen posaeaiion of, on

UOKET.

A payment of to much per

by a bankrupt to hit orediton, they agreeius to
I thia turn in lieu of the full amount of his debti,

behalf of hie oieditoit.
pound b;
reoeire

ii termed a compMitio»; and when such a compoiition
ii made, and paid at different initalmeutt, each inatal-
ment ia ipoken of as a dividend. The term dividend
it alao applied to the profits divided amongst the pro-
prietort of joint-stock companies, and the like. The
persons to whom the realisation, management, and dis-
tribution of the estate of a bankrupt are committed,
are termed his auignte*.

A monopoly is properly a privilege granted by
license, conferring on an individual or company the
sole right of purchasing and disposing of, making or
using, a certain specified article. The term, however,
it often used to . denote the engrossing of commo-
dities with the view of selling them at a high price.
Monopolies granted by roytJ license were at one
time frequent in England; but are now entirely
abolished, with the exception of patents for inventions
or improvements, and these exist only for a limited
number of years.

Prio»-«wmM it the technical term for a list thowing
the market prices of oommoditiei.

HONEY.

Origin mid Natwn of Money. — In a rude state of
society, exchanges are made by bartering one article
for another, according to some kind of understood
value. ' But when the division of labour first began
to take place,' says Smith, * this power of exchanging
must frequently have been very much clogged and
embarrassed in its operations. One man, we shal' sup-
pose, has more of a certain commodity than he himself
has occasion for, while another has less. The former,
consequently, would be glad to dispose of, and the latter
to purchase, a part of this superfluity. But if this
latter should chance to have nothing that the former
stands in need of, no exchange can be made between
them. The butcher has more meat in his shop than
he himself can consume, and the brewer and the baker
would each of them be willing to purchase a part of it;
but they hare nothing to offer in exchange, except the
different productions of their respective trades, and the
butcher is already provided with all the bread and beer
which he has immediate occasion for. No exchange
can in this case be made between them. He cannot
be their merchant, nor they his customers; and they
are all of them thus mutually less serviceable to one
another. In order to avoid the inconveniency of such
situations, every prudent man in every period of society
after the first establishment of the division of labour,
must naturally have endeavoured to manage his affairs
in such a manner as to have at all times by him, be-
sides the peculiar produce of his own industry, a certain
quantity of some one commodity or other, such as he
imagined few people would be likely to refuse in ex-
change for the produce of their industry.

Many different commodities, it is probable, were suc-
cessively both thought of and employed for this pur-
nose. In the rude ages of society, cattle are said to
nave been the common instrument of commerce; and
though they must have been a most inconvenient one,
yet in old times we find things were frequently valued
according to the number of cattle which had been given
in exchange for them. The armour of Diomede, says
Homer, cost only nine oxen ; but that of Glaucus cost
a hundred oxen. Salt it taid to be the common in-
strument of commerce and exchanges in Abyssinia; a
species of shells in some parts of the coast of India;
dried cod at Newfoundland; tobacco in Virginia; sugar
in some of our West India colonies; hides or dressed
leather in some other countries; and there is at this
day a village in Scotland where it is not uncommon, I
am told, for a workman to carry nails iuttead of money
to the baker'i shop or the alehouse.
In all countries, however, men teem at lait to have

been determined by irreeistible reatoni to give the pre«
ference for this employment to metals above everv
other commodity. Metals can not only be kept witn
as little loss at any other commodity, scarce anything
being less perishable than they are, but they can like-
wise, without any loss, be divided into any number of
parts, as by fusion those parts can easily be re-united
again — a quality which no other equally durable com-
modities possess, and which, more tnan any other qua-
lity, renders them fit to be the instruments of commerce
and circulation. The man who wanted to buy salt,
for example, and had nothing but cattle to give in ex-
change for it, must have been obliged to buy salt to
the value of a whole ox or a whole sheep at a time. He
oould seldom buy less than this, because what he wat
to give for it could seldom be divided without loss; and
if he had -- mind to buy more, he must, for the same
reasons, have been obliged to buy double or triple the
quantity — the value, to wit, of two or three oxen, or of
two or three sheep. If, on the contrary, instead of
sheep or oxen, he had metals to give in exchange for it,
he could easUy proportion the quantity of the metal to
the precise quantity of the commodity whidi he had
immediate occasion for.

Different metals have been made use of by different
nations for this purpose. Iron was the common instru-
ment of commerce among the ancient Spartans; copper
among the ancient Romans; and gold and silver among
all ridi and commercial nations.

Those metals seem originally to have been made uie
of for this purpose in rude bars, without any stamp or
coinage. Thus we are told by Pliny, upon the autho-
rity of Timeeus, an ancient historian, that till the
time of Servius TuUius the Romans had no coined
money, but made use of unstamped bars of copper
to purchase whatever they had occasion for. Tliese
rude bars, therefore, performed at this time the func-
tion of money.

The use of metals in this rude state was attended
with two very considerable inconveniences: first, with
the trouble of weighing; and secondly, with that of
assaying them. In the precious met Js, where a small
difference in the quantity makes a great difference in
the value, even the business of weighing with proper
exactness requires at least very accurate weights and
scales. The weighing of gold, in particular, it an
operation of some nicety. I- the coarser metals, in-
deed, where a small error would be of little conse-
quence, less accuracy would no doubt be necessaipr.
Yet we should find it excessively troublesome if,
every time a poor man had occasion either to buv or
sell a farthing's worth of goods, he was obliged to
weigh the farthing. The operation of assaying is still
more di£Scult, still more tedious; and unless a part of
the metal is fairly melted in the crucible, with proper
dissolvents, any conclusion that can be drawn from it
is extremely uncertain. Before the institution of
coined money, however, unless they went through thii
tedious and difficult operation, people must always
have been liable to the grossest frauds and impositions;
and instead of a pound weight of pure silver or pure
copper, might receive in exchange for their goods an
adulterated composition of the coarsest and cheapest
materials, which had, however, in their outward ap-
pearance been made to resemble those metals. To
prevent such abuses, to facilitate exchanges, and there-
by to encourage all sorts of industry and commerce,
it has been found necessary, in all countries that have
made any considerable advances towa:xl improvement,
to affix a public stamp upon certain quantities nf such
particular metals as were in those countries commonly
made use of to purchase goods. Hence the origin of
coined tnoney, and of those public offices called mints
— institutions exactly of the same nature with those of
the aulnagers and stampmasters of woollen and linen
cloth. All of them are equally meant to ascertain,
by means of a public stamp, the quantity and uniform
goodness of those different corns: loditiet when brought
to market.'— iSto<(A'4 WeaUh ofNatioHi, book i. chap. 4.

608

OHAMBEBffB TSFOVUMftim FOB THB PEOPlfi.

' H«UMMtMdantoodliflloM-tl)M6 axpluiMiidni (lli»t
monvvls onlV »ti^rti«le whi«b Mn'beVMvtkiiffitly tbtA
in •xch«n|ting. ' InHmifiViimt'rtAmU^'io 'Ha, own in.
trinsio qu»li<^<, it to ft'thiag bat of iMftll value. QtM.
Mid >nW«r, or tiM pMcioUi m«tali,:of irfaioh tnonejr is
Miu»lly'nia4«^ Mt ckMy broagkt from ' th« ininM of
Sbulh Ammtti. and «ir« ooinmetQiaUy valued MoordlBC
to Ihe OMI 'vX' their production and tMf Mmily nui
demandvM i» the caw with eTerjret&er' object in tikde.
If Ml oref^^ndance of any of theie metali be eaailj
obtaiaed, and the demand be not incieawd. the valoe
ie immediately lowered; and if ^e nipply li obtained
with diflenlty^ while the demand lemaint iteady^ or ia
•inorcaaod, the valoe it heightened. It cannot be too
■tiongly inipreksed on ihe mind of the reader, that money
ii bntanMtiUtic representative of something which has
been given for it. To a misunderstondiag lemrding
tilis apparently'veiyeimple oircumstaaoe, musk liaman
misery may be attributed, i It has too often been the
feMing of oentnninities, that if thvf possessed gold
the^ {wsaessed riohes, and not a mere article for facili'-
tatmg eommerae— ao article whiuhi from its ases in this
respect, is itself a commodity. The most startling illus-
tration of this ftillacy is to be fonnd in the historr of
Spain. Before the woricing of the gold mines in thefa:
Amerioan possessions, the SMniards were a rich and
prosperous commercial people; bat when they began
to find galA, they thought they had sot at their hand
that for which they foimerly Uboued, and that, like a
poor Industrious man who nos unexpectedly succeeded
to an estate, they need now work no longer. To pre-
vent their riches from disappearing, the law prohibited
the exportation of the preoions metals, and thus effec-
tually shut the door against the only way in which they
could be' made sources of wealth' — exportation as an
article of commerce. In. that viow, and in that alone,
vras there any a(! vantage ia the possession of gold; and
even had it been empk>yed in the most advantageous
manner, it would not have been so profitable aa many
ether means of employing capital and labour; for, as
already remarked, the peculiarity whidi makes gold
ae useful as a measure of value is, that the labour
usually expended in producing it bears so constant a,
ratio to the quantity realised, that but small profits
ore made from its production, .

The manner in which the Spaitiards became ao-
quainted with tlie treasures of South America tended
to nourish the delusion. They found a considerable
quantity of gold in the possession of the natives,
ivhioh they speedily seised. They found also native
gold an tbie streams. Thus, by an accidental circum-
stance, such as that of finding • hidden treasure, they
bewme possessed of money without working fw it.
They did not reflect that if this lasted, gold would cease
to be the repressntative of value which it was, and
would be of no further service in eommense than aa an
extremely beautiful material for manufactures, which
would fluctuate in value with the tide of fashion.
When they could procure the mineral only by the re-
sult of hard labour, they still had the same preposterous
feeling that they were possesied, not of the means of
making wealth, but of wealth itself; and dearly did
they pay the penalty. While starvation desolated the
land, and the hichest grandees could not command so
nndi of the produce of ordinary commercial industry
as a glass wmdow, every wretched dwelling glittered
with mountains of plate.

Gold, it is neoessary to repeat, is simply a commodity
•—a commodity whidi we import : and if we can export
it profitably, why not do sot If the countrr in (Ques-
tion will take nothing from us but gold, then it is either
worth our while to buy cold for the purpose of sending
to it, or it is not. If it is not worth while, tbon the
trade will not be carried ok at alL if U is worth while,
then the trade is on the whole a profitable one. If we
import sugar from the Spanish settlement of Manilla,
and export it to Ocnnany, this is called ' the canying-
trade,' and quite oortectly ; but ii seems to be thought
that if we import go)d from South America, we must
AM

k«ep otilr hMdii'UtMW if, Mhiirwhw we shall be rained.
It is commonly said that we can only establish a pro-
fitable trad^ when we pay in' our own manufacturer.
Now payibg in g61d is, Mter aU< indirectly paying With
oAr own mannfactures, fbr (except the comparatively
trifling quantity that may hav« been taken in irar)
there is niot an ounce of bullion in the country'that
has not been obtained in exchange for some article
prodaced either by our nianuflMturing or agricnhuml
industry. Let him who doubts tiiis position, try if he
can discover any other method by which gold can have
found its way to this country.

Ooitud AfoiMjr.-MJold and silver, as we have said,
are chiefly broueht from the mines of South America.
Thoy are genenuly imported in the form of burs, and
in this rude state are commercially named buUum, The
prioe of bullion in the market is liable to fluctuations,
according to the cost of production, the supply, and the
demand. However, the variation is never very great,
and has little sensible uSect on the ooinage. It is cus-
tomary to estimate the purity of gold by an imaginary
standard of 24 carats. The carat is a small weight of
universal use, containing 4 grains. It originated from
the carat or kaura, a small bean^ used by the Abyssi-
niaas for weighhig gold. Diamonds xn also weighed
by it. If in a piece of gold weighiing 24 carats uiere
be l-24th of alloy, then the pieoe is f below the stan-
dard. What is called jewellws' gold is seldom purer
than 20 fine to 4 of alloy — the alloy being usually
silver, but sometimes copper, which gives a deeper
red tinge to the metal; Perfectly pure gold is never
seen either in trbkets or coins, for it is too ductile,
and for that and other Teasons requires a certain quan-
tity of alloy. Sovereigns, and other modem English
^Id coins, contain l-12th of alloy ; bu^ this twelfth
IS not reckoned as gold in point of value.> At present
the gold coin of Ureat Britain is issued at very nearly
its precise market value as bullion. A pound weight
of gold, of 22 carats' fineness, produces coins to the
amount of £46, 14s. 6d., which ia about the price at
which bullion sells for in the market. Thus the gold
of our currency is coined free of expense, or at the
rate <rf £i, 17s. 10|d. per ounce — the weight of a sotp-
reign being 5 dwt. 3*274 srains. In coining silver,
government is allowed hy tne act 56 Geo. III. a profit
or swgnorage of about 6 per cent. ; the pound weight
of silver, whidi should produce 62s., being coined
intofftfs.— that is, at the rate of 6s. 6d. per ounce. Our
silver coins being therefore of a little less real value
than the sums uiey represent, they are not liable to
be melted down by silversmiths for the manufitcture of
articles in their trade.

Till the vear 1816, on the ooouion of a new coinage,
the silver shilling was the standard of money, though,
for eonvenience, the pound of 20s. was the principal
sum named in commv-cial transactions. The act 56
Geo. III. rendered gold the principal standard, and
made silver subaidiMry to it; since which period no
more than 40s. are a legal tender ; that is to say, no
one is bound to accept of more than 40s. in silver in
payment of any debt or demand. The legal tender
abo/e 40s. is in sovereigns; but iix point of fact an order
on the Bank of England is considered equivalent.

At present gold is issued in sovereigns (of twenty
shillings) and half-sovereigns: the issue of double
soverei{^s is also authorised, but none are in circula-
tion. Silver is issued in crowns (of five shillings), half-
crowns, shillings (of twelve pence), iixpenoes, and groats,
or fourpences ; a few pieces for 3d., 2d., and Id., called
Mifunajf Moneif, are also made for the purpose of dis-
tribution as alms by the sovereign, but they are not in
general circulation.

The copper ooinage, consisting of pennies, halfpence,
and farthings, is issued fh>m the mint at the rate of
X224 per ton, being mora than 100 per cent, above its
market value ; in other words, a penny-piece is intrin-
sically worth no more than a halfjpenny. Formerly,
the pieces usually known as old pennies wsre larger ;
but IB eousequence of a rise in the valiM of copper

1 MIFf Mof llO]«;1f.;lu|/;f

ih 1806, ii hai: since b«6n thought AdviMjUe to adopt
th« T»te above inoutii 'id.

The coined money Qreat Britain u the most ele<
nntly executed, and among the purest in the world.
The greater part of the continental coinage is poorly
eseeuted, and baeely alloyed. In Holland, and most of
the German states, the coins legally curroit as silver
money are apparently one-third brass, and resemble the
counterfeit sbullings and sixpences of a former period
in England. In France and Belgium, the new gold
and sUTer coins are handsome, and so likewise are the
large gold and silver pieces of Prussia. The coins and
medals executed by direction of Napoleon in France
an in ft high style of art.

Money of the current and standard coinage is fre-
quently signified by the term iterUng, as * one pound
sterling,' kc. With respect to the origin of the word
sterling there are three opinions : the first is, that it
is derived from Stirling. Castle; and that Edward I.
having penetrated so far into Scotland, caused a coin
to be struck there, which he called Sterling: the second
opinion derives it from the figure of a bird called star-
ling, which appears about the cross iu the ancient arms
of England: the third most probably- assigns its true
origin, by deducing it from Esterling ; for in the time
of Heniy III. it is called Moneta Eittrlingorum, the
money of the Esterlings, or people of the East, who
came hither to refine the silver of which it was made;
and hence it was valued more than any other coi , on
account of the purity of its substance. The denomi-
nation of the weights and their .parts is of the Saxon
or Esterling tongue — as pound, shilling, penny, and
fiuthing, which are so called in their language to the
present day. The term sterling is now disused in Eng-
land in aU ordinary transactions, but is still used in
Scotland, to distinguish sums from the ancient money
of the countiy, as referred to in old deeds and notices
of pecuniary transactions. The old Scots money, pre-
vious to the Union of 1707, was in pounds, shillings,
and pence, but these were only a twelfth of the value
of sterling money of the same denomination: thus a
pound Scots was only twentypence sterling. The word
sterling is also in use in the colonies, to distinguish
the legal standard of Great Britain from the currency
money in ^these places.

The following is a short explanation of the origin of
the principal terms used in reference to coined money.
The word Money is from the temple of Juno Moneta,
in which money was first coined by the ancients. Feeu-
marjf is from peeut, a flock — flocks and herds of animals
being originally equivalent to money, or things consti-
tuting wealth. Cash, in commerce, signifies ready money,
or actual coin paid on the instant, and is from the
French word eaiate, a coflSer or chest in which money
is kept. Pmtnd never was a coin ; the term was ori-
ginally employed to signify a pound weight of silver,
but afterwards it was applied to mean 20s. in tale, or
by counting. QuiiMa took its name from the coast of
Guinea in Africa, when<'2 the gold for it was originally
brought ; at first, the piece was current at 208., after-
wards it was equal to 21s. 6d., and finally settled at
21s. In the present day the guinea is not coined, and
the term only remains to indicate 21s. Honorary fees
and gilts are still usually reckoned in guineas, though
paid in other money. Shilling and penny are both
uom Saxon words : the penny was first coined in silver.
Oroat was a name given to silver pioces equal to four
pennies in value, coined by Edward III. : the word
groats is a corruption of grouee, or great pieces, and
was given to distinguish this larger coinage from pen-
nies or small coins. Farthing is a corruption of Jour-
thing, or the fourth part of a penny.

The coining of money forms one of the exclusive
privileges of the crown, %nd the counterfeiting of it
constituted formerly the offence of high treason. At
present the integrity of the coinage is guarded by a re-
cent act, under which persons counterfeiting or impair-
ing it are liable to imprisonment and transportation.
Penaltiet are also imposed on those uttering false coins

—having Uiree Or more sb<sh pieces in their poslMrfcti
wiUi intent to put oflT the same — and on those making,
mending, or having in possession any coining tools.
Ttie loss on coins by ordinary tear and wear has been
variously estimated. According to experiments made
at the Mint in 1833« the waste per cent, per annum ap-
pears to be— on sovereigns, from 9d. to lOjfd.; on half-
sovereigns, from Is. to Is. 6^d.; on half-crowns, from
'3s. to 8s.; on shillings, from 2s. Sd. to 6s.; and on six-
pences, from 6s. to 8s. These results — making allow-
ance for the greater use of some coins than others —
confirm the general estimate that standard gold pos-
sesses about A>ur times the durability of silver.

A currency of gold is, therefore, the most secure and
permanent, and toe pieces are received for their proper
value in all countries. But notwithstanding these ad-
vantages, a metallic currency alone is quite unsuitable
in highly-commercial communities. There is no ade-
quate importation of the precious metals at the ordi-
nary value to supply material for a purely metallic
currency; and if it were possible to provide a sufficient
supply, the inconvenience and risk of loss to indi-
viduals from using coins only in all mercantile trans-
actions would be too great to be patiently borne. A
heavy loss would also be incurred annually by govern-
ment from tear and wear, which it would be impolitic
to avert by imposing a proportionate seignorage. In
these and other points of view, a currency of metal
only would be exceedingly unsuitable to the existing
condition of society and commerce in Britun. Some-
thing more convenient requires to be employed as a
medium of exchange and representative of the enor-
mous sums which are daily transfertul fi-om one to
another all over the country.

Paper Money. — The deficiencies of a metallic cur-
rency are compensated by the use of paper money.
Paper money is in the form of small pieces of paper,
each purporting to be an obligation or promise to pay
a certain sum which is specified upon it. Whether
passing by the name of a bank-note, a promissory-note,
or bill of exchange, the principle on which it is issued
is the same — an express obligation on the issuer to pay
the specified sum in coined money on demand, or at »
certain date which is mentioned. The notes of this
kind issued by a bank pass from hand to hand, any
holder having it in his power at any time to demand
fulfilment of the obligation from the bank; but in the
case of a bill of exchange, which is a promise by a pri-
vate party, it is presentable for payment only at a spe-
cified period. Bank-notes and bills together constitute
the paper currency of the country, and are of prodigioua
use in carrying on commercial transactions.

Bills of Exchange were first used for the purpose of
settling pecuniary transactions between individuals at
a distance from each other, and were therefore conve-
nient expedients to avoid the risk of sending actual
money to a creditor. This may be explained as fol-
lows: — If A, a merchant in London, have a debtor B
and a creditor C, both in Paris, instead of sending;
money to C, and getting money sent to him by B, h»
may give C an order on B to pay the debt over at onc»
to him. This is a bill of exchange in its simplest form.
Suppose, however, that A has a creditor in Paris, but
no debtor, while his neighbour E has a debtor, but no-
creditor; A may pay the money to E which the Frendb.
debtor owes him, and obtain from him an order on hia
debtor to pay A's French creditor. This order he will
be said to purchase. It will la an accommodation to
him or to the other party, according to circumstances.
In the complicated arrangements of modem commerce
the individual debtors and creditors are lost sight of.
If a person has a sum to transmit to another country
by such an order, the rate at which he will obtain it
will depend on the pecuniary relations of the two
places taken in the main. If there is more money
payable at the moment by people in London to people
ui Paris than there is payable by those in Paris to
those in London, there will be a demand for orders on
Paris, and a premium will b^ payable for the accom-

606

OBAUBKum mfommoa ton vba neopUL

inoaftiion by thoM wlM wttai itam. In tUf mm tha
txcKtmae will b* Mid t* ba »pta^ Loodon. In PMia,
on tii9 otlMT hMd, thcM will b* mort people rekdy to
gire auch dniAi tiiMi tkeni am in wMit of them, and
thovi who diapoaa of tiiem muat do lo at a diacount.
The rate of exohange ia ftom thia einumitanoe aiud to
be in ftTOur of Paria. The pnunium in the one oaan,
and the diaooont in the other, will be meaaured by the
balance due by London to Paria OTcr what ia due by
Paria to London; and the principal lum to be met by
the rata of ozchan|e will be the ezpenie of tranimit-
tiaf that balance in apede, unlaw the aocounta can
be a^juatad by bringing traniactiona with iome other
community into the circle.

We may Tary thia explanation of the prindple of
exchange aa followa : — Great Britain, like ereiy other
country, ia expoaed to a drainage of ita metallic currency,
by the balance of trade falling againit it. At long a*
our exporta are equal to our import* they will balance
laeh other; the billa drawn in England againit foreign
countriea will be balanced by bull drawn in foreign
coontries againat England. In thia itate of thingi the
exchange ia aaid to be at par, or eren. If our exporta
exceed oar importa, then foreignera must aend actual
money for the orerplua, becauie they have not occasion
to remit bills for tne amount. If our importa exceed
oar exporta, we muat in the tame manner remit the
overplus in actual money. Thus a dearth and scarcity
of com in England will cause a drainage of the precious
metals, beofvase our imports of that article rise to a
large amount, or much beyond the value of the manu-
factured goods exported. The exchange if then said
to be agabrt England.

The multifarious transactions taking place between
merchanta in Britain and America cause an incesaant
proeeas of payment by the intervention of bills of ex-
change, many thousanda of pounds being paid away
daily in their accounts with each other without the aid
of any metallie money, except perhapr a few coins for
■mall odd sums.

Here is a common form of drawing a bill of ex>
change: —

£100. London, 6th August 1840.

Tliree months after date, pay to me or my order
the sum of one hundred pounds, value received.
To Mr laouAM Styles, Merchant, John NoKra.

Cripplejate, London.

The bill beins drawn in this form, Mr Styles aeetpf$
it, by writing nis name either below that of Mr Nokes,
or across the face of the writing. Mr Nokes, who is
called the drawer, now endorses Uie bill, by writing his
name on the back of it, and thus the bill becomes nego-
tiable paper. It may be paid away to a third party;
and he endorsing it below Nokes's name, may pay it
away to a fourth ; and he endorsing it in the same man-
ner, may pay it away to a fifth; and so on. Thus the
bill may pass from hand to hand; on each occasion
liquidating a debt of £100, till the da^ of payment by
the original acceptor arrives, when it is duly presented
br the last holder. Instead of running this course, the
bul may at any period be diteomnted by a bill-broker or
banker. The discounting of a bill consists in giving
the money for it, les« a certain sum for interttt. Inte-
rest io a charge for the loan of money, and is ordinarily
reckoned by per cent Thus 5 per cent, (or centum)
per aLnum signifies a chaige of £6 for every £100 for
one yi a, which is eonal to a shil'ing for each pound.
Fiv>> er cent, is the highest legal inwvest char^ble in
the L/nited Kingdom on all money lent in ordmary cir-
cumstance*; but for discounting bills or promissoiy-
notes, a Itrjna per oentage may now be legally taken.
When a bill for £100 for three months (or fourth part
of a Tear) is discounted at 5 per cent, interest, a chuj^
equal to the fourth part of £5 is made by the du-
coun'er, and this is his profit for the loan of the money
for that period. Interest for a single dny on any sum
may be easily calculated by a rale in arithmetic; but
merchant! wd bukm for the Mke of wpoditioa and
508

eonreotnea^ generally consult a Mt of printed intOMt
tables or ready reckoner.

According to a practice of old standing, billa ai« not
preaentable for payment till the third day after that
which is specified for them to ihll due. The three days
allowed are called the days ^fgract. Thus a bill drawn
on the <th of August, at three months, is not legally
due till noon of the 8th of November. In some countries
the period of nace is much longer than three days.

Bills of exchange ate oooasionallv drawn in the form
of promissory-notes; as, for example :—

£100. London, Sth Augutt 1840.

Three months after date, I promise to pay to
Mr John Nokes, or order, the sum of one hundred
pounds, value received. Thomas Sttlkb.

When in this form, no signature is written across the
front of the document — it is only endorsed by the cre-
ditor^ Promissory-notes are in every respect liable to
the same regulations as bills. Both promissory-notes
and bills must be written on st:\mps of the proper price;
if on stamps of an inferior value, they are not nego-
tiable, and cannot be protested. The protesting of a
bill is simply the marking of a notary-public that it
has not been duly paid on presentation; which marking,
or noting, forms the warrant for the issuing of legal
diligence by the competent authorities. If not protested
on the day it has fallen due, ^his step cannot be ttUcen
afterwards, and the bill remains a mere evidence of
the debt, to be produced in the course of a regular
and perhaps tedious prosecution. Men in business are
careful to present their bills for payment on the exact
day they become due. When the acceptor of a bill fails
to pay the amount, the holder can fall back for payment
on any of the endorsers, or the drawer.

Bills are sometimes drawn at eight, ot |o many days
after sight; for example: —

£50. London, 5f& Auguet 1840.

Ten days after sight, pay me or my order the
sum of fifty pounds, value received.
To Mr Isaac Walibbs, John Jenkins.

Chdapside.

A bill of this kind is asually drawn by a person at a
distance from his debtor, and on writing it out and en-
dorsing it, he transmits it to an agent (or probably a
creditor of his own) in the town in which the debtor
resides. The agent having received it, hastens with it
to the debtor to be sighted, which consists in the debtor,
a«, for instance, the above Mr Walters, accepting it, by
signing his name, and marking the day on which he baa
done so. The bill is now a negotiable instrument, and
on the third day after the day specified it is present-
able for payment. This may be called a convenient
way of getting ready money or prompt payment of any
Hum from a debtor. It is very connuon to Anw foreign
billt of exciumge at so many days after sight. These
bills are of preciselv the same nature as inland or home
bills of exchange; but for the sake of security in trans-
mission, they are drawn in sets of three. The follow-
ing is a common form: —

£ 1 00. MONTEBAL, 1 Bt& JuM 1840.

Sixty days after sight, pay this my first bill
of exchange (second and third of the same tenor and
amount being unpaid), for the sum of one hundred
pounds sterling, value received.
To Messrs Bkown and JoNa, Sahitel Robbstson.
Merchants, Bristol.

This bill being endoited by Mr Robertson, is trans-
mitted to England (probably hi liquidation of a debt of
the same amount), and is presented to Messrs Brown
and Jones to be sighted, and is afterwards presented
to them for payment accordingly. The agent or indi-
vidual to whom it is sent, receives by the next packet
the second bill of the same tenor. Should the first
have beou lost by shipwreck, this second is available;
but otherwise it in of no use, an«2 may be destroyed.
The thitd bill of the same tenor ii retained by the

iiijies.

of printed inUftil

John Jenkins.

L ROBKBXSON.

inim tUl Im Urn wtiatker the Ant vt Moond hvn
beent«oeir«d; if both hkre boon lost, it ii tnuumittod.
Billi of thii dMoription »re nrely i«nt by the kctuftl
dnwer. They are uiually paid away or cold on the
ipot to another party, who trantmiti them to a creditor
of liii own, and he negotiatei the payment. The abund-
ance or icardty of foreign billi of exchange affecte their
price. If many merchants be in quMt of biUi of this
nature to send abroad, and there be few haring them
to dispose of, they rise to a premium; in other words,
a merchant in New York may giro ^£105 for a bill for
£1C0 payable in England. If, on the contrary, there
be man^ bills and few buyers, they will be disposed of
at a discount. These differences constitute what is
called the diffisrenet of ixehange.

Bills of exchange serve three useful puiposes in oom-
merce. 1. A bill puts a debt in a tangible form : for
example, instead of leaving a debt of £100 to be paid at
an indefinite period, so ae to protract its settlement, let
it be put in the shape of a promise to pay, and the cre-
ditor becomes satisfied that he now possesses the power
to compel payment at a certain and not very distant
period. 2. A bill is a negotiable instrument. If the
parties be trustworthy, it ma^ be discounted for cash;
and thus, while the creditor will receive his money, less
a trifle for discount, the debtor is left unmolested till
the final day of payment. 3. A bill is a convenient
representative of money, which may be sent from place
to place in a letter, and if accidentally lost, its pav-
ment may be stopped, and a new bill forwarded to the
proper destination.

The currtHcy or money of the United Kingdom is
about£-26,000,000 of gold and itilver coin, aDd£32,000,000
of bank-notes, chiefly of the value of five and ten
pounds — total, £58,000,000. As nearly all large pay-
ments, howevAr, are made by bills of exchaoge and
drafts on bankers, there is an enormously large cur-
rency of that kind. It has been calculated that the
amount of bills, promissory-notes, and bankers' drafts
in circulation at any one time cannot be much less
than £122,000,000. The centre of all the great money
transactions of the British Empire is London, in which
is situated the Bank of England, or principal banking
institution. The amount of foreign and inland bills of
exchange and drafts payable in London daily, is esti-
mated at £4,000,000. In Scotland, which is justly
iielebrated for its well-conducted banking institutions,
the money currency is chiefly one-pound bank-notes
and silver. On the 7th of October 1848, the note cir-
culation of the United Kingdom was as follows : — Bank
of England, £17,605,718 ; private banks, £3,681,544 ;
joint-stcck banks, £2,666,749; Scotland. £3,136,516;
Ireland, £4,506,421. The money coined, in 1847 con-
sisted of 110,400 lbs. gold, yielding £5,158,440; of
38,100 lbs. silver, yielding £125,730; and of 40 tons
copper, yielding £4960 sterling.

BANKS.

Ongin of Bank$. — The term lamk, in reference to
commerce, signi'es a place of deposit of money, and is
derived from the Italian word haaeo, a seat or bench,
the first custodiers and dealers in mouey in Italy having
been Jews, who sat on botches in the market-places cf
the principal towns. It is worthy of remark, that in
the infancy of almost all modem civilised nations, the
earliest money-dealers were Jewr, and in the present
day persons of that nation are Uie chief commercial
necotiaton in barbttous countries. Their acute in-
telligence, patient industry, disregard of local attach-
ments, and kindred qualities, have in all ages fitted the
JewiA people for this course of life.

About the reign of Charles I., Jews and goldsmiths,
to whom valuaUe prop>erty had been assifned for safe
custody, bwaa to exercise the profession of oanken and
money-deaiers in England; but till a much later period
there were sereral eminent baokmi in Landon iHio
■till k^t g«ldnutht> ihopi.

On th« eontintnt of fiui^ MgalwlMUiiklnc Mtt'
menoed mock earlier than in thia countrr. The Bank
of Venice woe establiihed ai early ■• 1171. the Bank of
Amsterdam was begun in 1609, and that of Hamburg
in 1619. Aegular hanking esUblishmente were formed
in England and Sootlaad shortly after the Revolution.
The Bank of England beffan in 1694, and «h« Bank of
Scotland in 1695, sbce which period bank! of various
characters have been instituted in all the principal
towns in the United Kingdom.

fwinMs i^BmUnftg.—A. bank ia a oommer«i»l insti-
tution, established and conducted by private indiTidualf
for their own behoof, or by joint companies. Like a
merchant's counting-house, it consists of various offi-
cials — a manager, cashier, clerks, Ac. including tellen,
or persons for receiving and paying out the moner.
Banks are usually reckoned to be of two kinds — ^banu
of deporit, and banks of «Mtw. By deposit it is meant
that the bank takes charge of deposits of cash, which it
is ready to restore on demand. Some banks of thia
nature allow interest on the sums received, and othen
do not do so; all, however, of necessity, make use of
the money so deposited, by lending it out at a certain
rate of intek-est, and thus compensate themselves for
their trouble. The loa£.s are most commonly in the
form of discounts of bills, and occasionally advances on
heritable property, or other securities. Banks of issue
transact all the ordinary business of banks of deposit,
and, in addition, issue notes of their own instead of
actual cash or the notes of others. Almost all banks
in this country are bcmks both of deposit and issue;
they at least issue notes as far as the law allows them,
which is to the extent of notes of £5 in value and
upwards. The only banks permitted to issue below £C
are those in Scotland, for which a peculiar law exisis.

Although banks are thus at liberty to issue no^-^s to
any extent, it is not to be supposed that they do so
vithout a certain degree of restraint. The expense of
manufacturing notes, notwithstanding that each re-
quires a stamp, u a comparatively small chech; the
main restraint on over-issuing consists in the c bliga-
tion to pay the sum, which the note ezpreues, on de-
mand. When, ther^ore, a banker discounts a bill for
£100, and gives out one hundred notes of £1 each, he
encounters the risk of having these notes returned ttp<m
him, and a demand made for them in cash within the
compass of a day or two thereafter. This risk is in-
creased by the practice among bankers of n^iver issuing
the notes of others. They are anxious enough to push
forth on a safe principle their own paper; but when they
receive deposits or payments in the paper of another
bank, they use all convenient speed in demanding cash
from that luk in exchange for its notes. The noten
of any given bank being received purely on a principle
of good faith or credit, it is of ereat importance that
the bank should do nothing to incur the suspieioD of
being incapable of retiring its notes. When any sus-
picion of this nature arises, the public, who are ignorant
probably of the true circumstances, rush to the bank
for gold in exchange for its notes. This kind of panic
is called a run. Bankers are always naturally anxious
to issue their notes to as great an extent as is oonns-
tent with safety to the institution. The measure of thia
safety is the extent of capital at command to liquidate
demands for caah. To accommodate the amount of tiiis
capital to the probable necessities of the caae, ia the
pomt in banking for which the greatest skill is required,
because if much capital is kept lying useless m the
coffers of the bank, there is a loss of interest whidi
may be ruinous; whereas if too little is retained, a auddea
run might utterly destroy the credit of the concern.
When ^king is mancged with prudence, there is a
oertun amount of money k^t at interest in the funds
or govenimfnt securities, upon which, if need be, an
ordw is gfren. Thus a sailsty fund is established,
whereon iu fall back in ease of eraergeney. A share of
the subscribed and jp*id-in OMutal of the shareholdot
of the bank forms this safety fund; and it ma^ be taken
as K gemnd role, tint «4u(« » hwk is provided with

£07

CflAllBEBSPS IHfOBimeip^ FOB THS PX0PL8.

MO luch sM^^ity. but InuM to^ on il>tt MUi of ,t]<e

tnidtnff on a prinoij^lo •liKo dabgwoui to ittolf imd tno
publtc. A b«u|k<^lr fo,o unit«* ontetpriM with pru^enoo
Mk«f (tffjhr KriOiihU mnni to extend th« oiroula^Ion of
Um Doto* w A> tiiinute and distant channel! ai poMlble;
^r ai Ib^ig.a* ^ note U out, an ipter«it \» being receired
for ^e capital i^hioh it r«prefent«. In other wordi,
when a poiibd note ii out, it reprefentt a lOT^reign
whi<^ ha* bee^ dcpoeited or civen for it, and which
■OT«n]^ ii eiiit>loyed in a fund in aome manner of way
•t intereit, for the adrantage of the banker.
'On couiidering the va:ioui operation! connected with
tanking, it will be found that, independently of the
impulie and elatticity created by the facilitiee given to
commerce, the direct and primary effect of thera i> the
etoiployment of w;aate money. A bank ghthirs, ai it
w«re, the raobey of a diatrict into \if hand*, and allow-
ib^ each mto to um as much of hia oWn abate as he
nqutrts at the time, keepa the remainder likewiae in
jrmploynient, whibh would not hare been the case had
It Nmained in Its owner'a hands.
:' , the Ta|>idity with which all kinds of payments are
inilade, and therofote the frequency with which money
<jatt be us^d, through the instrumentality of banks, form
the most strikin/T feature. In a bank office the same
aurti of money will have been made the means of paying
its amount a do^n of times over in a day without Ming
once ifplifted. A, who is due B £100, gives a cheque
for the s^m, which will make it stand in his name in-
ttead of A's. B gives a similar cheque to C; C to D;
and so on. ' The transfer of lodgments,' says Mr Oil-
tiMt, ' is extensively practised in our own times. If
two persons, who have an account in the same bank,
have business transactions with each other, the debtor
will pay the creditor by a dieque upon the bank. The
creditor will ha?e this cheque placed to his credit. The
amount of money in the bank remains the same; but
a certain portion is transferred into a different name
in the banker's b9oks. The cheque given by the debtor
is an authority from the debtor to the banker to make
this transfer. Here the payiaent between the creditor
and debtor is made without ./ uy employment of money.
No money passes by one to the other : no money is
paid out or received by the banker. Thus it is that
M&ks of deposit economise the use of the circulating
medium, and enable a large amount of tranaaotions to
be settled with a small amount of money. The money
thus liberated is employed by the banker in making
advances, by discount or otherwise, to his customers.
Hence the principle of transfers gives additional efficacy
to the deposit system, and increases the productive
ci^ital of the country. It matters not whether the
two parties, who have dealings with eadi other, keep
their accounts with the same banker or with different
bankc'i: for as the banks exchange their cheques with
eaeli other at the clearing-house, the efiect as regards
the public is the same.'*

London, in which the government funds are managed,
and where all the great pecuniary trusactions of the
empire nun be said to centre, furnishes a remarkable
Instance of the economising of money by the interchange
of cheques or drafts among bankers. Each banking
house va the metiopolis sends dail^ the drafts it has
received on other banking institutions to a place of
common resort, called the clearing-house. Here a clerk
ftom each bank attends and exchanges drafts. It is
understood that the accounts balanced every day at
this cleari|is-house amount to £8,000,000 sterling, the
s«ttlta>ent oeing effected by the intervention of only
about £250,000 m not^S Mid cash.

Bank (/ St^flan4.'-Th\$ institution, which is the
lary^t and most important banking establishment in
thd w ^M, was projected by WilBam Patetson, a Scotch-
man, and reb«ived its charter of incorporation July 27,
^694. it was constituted as a joint-stock association,
l»itli » capital of £1,200,OUO, which sum was lent at

• diUert-s Bistoiy awl Principles or BMiktav, pp M, Uii.
508

interest, to j^e geywnmsnt of William and M^j it
ih/if time in a state of embarrassment Ajt its very out-
set,' thsrefoM, the Bsmk pf England was p mere engiiie
of government ; and in a Umt or greater degree it
has ei\joyed this character thiloitgh all the stages of
its subsequent history. According to Its charter, the
management is committed to a governor, Heutehant-

fDvemor, and twenty-four directors, elected by stock-
olders who have held £500 of stock for six months
previous to the election. A director is required to kold
£2000, a deputy-governor £3000, a governor £4000,
of the capital stock. At first the charter of the Bank
was for only eleven yeaM| put in consequence of the
great services of the institution to government, its
charter has been at varioqs times renewed. The original
stock of £1,200,000 haf Iwen augmented at different
times, till in 1816 it reached £14,553,000 upon which
the stockholders drew dividends. The profits of the
Bank ariae principally from traffic in bullion, discount-
ing of bills, in',;ereat on mortgi^es, kilowance for ma-
naging the public debt, &o.

The net profit of the Aank in 1832, out of which in-
terest was paid on the capital stock, was £1,189,627.
Tho interest paid to stockholders has iravered from
5 to 10 per cent, per annum, 1>ut has more generally
been about 8 per cent. The Bank has b£iides, at
different times, made dividends under the name of
bonutu. A bonus is a sum of money derived from
the division of a fund, which Has Ixten suffered to ac-
cumulate or remain for use. In case of an emergency.
The eraereency being past, the fund is divided. The
bonuses of the Bank of England have varied during
the current century from 10 to 5 per cent.

The Bank of England is situatwi in a central part of
London, adjoining the Royal Exchange. It is an ex-
tensive structure with interior courts, the whole cover-
ing an area of about eight acres of ground. Within the
limits of the Bank are conducted, on an extensive and
perfect scale of art, the various processes of printing
notes and other documents for the eatablishmei^t; and
in the fire-proof vaults beneath is the reposito'ry of bul-
lion, or bars of cold and silver and ooinid money, con-
stituting the substantial Jtopk of ci^iUll fbr the time
being. The number of clerks, porUrs, an4 other official*
employed in the establishment was lately about 900.

The Bank of England trades not only on its paid-up
capital, but on the capital confided to it in the form of
deposits, and usually called its liahUitiei. This is per-
fectly luptimate, and consistent with the true principles
of bankmg,it being only necessarv to (4ke care that
the institution alwi^ leavss itself a'sumcient fund
from which to satisfy all demands. The issue of notes
by the Bank is understood to be somewhat in acooidance
with the amount of its deposits; but this is necessarily
dependent on various contingencies in public affairs.
The leading feature in the chan^ter of the institution
is the circumstuioe of its aotmg a* the banking-house
for the government. All the money drawn in the form
of taxes or otherwise for the public service is consigned
to the Bank, while all drafts for the public service are
likewise made from it. In carrying on this branch of
its business, the Bank allows the government to over-
draw its account — that is, to take a loan of cash t<> a
certun amount. The money so lent was some time
ago upwards of £14,000,000, which parliament made a
provision to reduce and finally pay off. The importaut
services rendered to the gorvumment have in past timet
secured to the Bank most valuable privileges, amount-
ing almoat to a monopoly of the business in money.
In 1797, when the Bank found itself unable to meet a
run made upon it for gold for its notes^ the government
of that day summarily' protected it from bankruptcy
by iuuing an order that Bank of England notes should
be considered a legal tender; consequently the holders
of notes at the time were, by force of law, refused their
value in cash. This extraordinanr state of afiairs, with
various modificatioBS, lasted till 1821, when cash pay-
ments were rsraaiad. Meanwhile the notes of the
Bwk, from not b«ing reproMBtativet of specie, were

iilJ'lOt^M aiiV Mj'i ^'islgi^J lUi/'i i(i1f^'ia.lJf.i.iii.

otjiuAlit'tMy 4^i^!»ted' in ndihlnfc! ralue : lo gttut
#M the d'epr«ieifttion itt one time, tliat four-;;^uiutd
note* would ha!rt been oiven in exchange foi- thi'^e
guineu. It hH been frequently repreient«(l m »
■erioui hardkhip, that debts conti»3ted during thii pre-
ralenco of » depreciated currency have had to be paid
in a currenqr of full value ; for by this nieanB the
creditor recefvet porhapi a (bird more money than the
actual value of (he original sum owing The Bank of
England manages the buiiness of the national de^ at
an office within its precincts; for which service to the
state it is paid a per-centage, which at present amounts
to upwards of ;e9l,000 annually.

JMtU- Stock Banks in England. — A parliamentary
return wai published early in 1U40 relative to thepe
establishments, from' which it appeared that the number
of Joint-stocks in England, at Ist January 1840, was
1 08, a considerable proportion of which had been insti-
tuted within the preceding ten years.

the number or partners in these banks varies from
60 to 1200, and may average about 300. There are
half-a-dozen with les^ than fifty partners, the smallest
nuiqber being seven. Fifty-eight of the, banks ha^e
bnuiches, and fifty have none. The branches, includ-
ing the [parent bank, are from two to sixty-seven in
number. There are eight banks, vrhich have more than
twenty ^tranches. The whole number of parent banks
and 1 iches is unwuds of 650.

there ara, bepides, about 500 private hanht in Eng-
land— thfit i^ bluiks having not more than six partners.
Addinff these to the Joint-stotjk banks and their branches,
the whole nuniber of banking establUhments will pro-
baMy exceed 1150.

The issues of the joint-ttock banks, when contrasted
with the I|ilfgnitu4e of the establishments, seem to us
exceedingly small. Recording to the last return (Jan.
3, 184C), the notes in circulation of all the joint-stock
banks were In value £3,162,742. This, divided by the
number of hanks (lOQ), gives an average circalation of
only 4i31,627 for each; or if we include the branches,
the average for each office or establishment is only
£7000. Supposing the money to be employed in dis-
counting at 5 per Oent.,the annual profit on £3,162,742
would^M Oi^j £158,13^, or no more than d£l581 to each
establnlinMaik It is evident that their profits must be
chiefly derivfd flrmn deposits, which they can employ at
5 per cent, white we believe they give only 2.

The issdee or the private banks, by the same return,
were £4,505,82 <, which givef an average of about
£9000 for each establishment. It appears that the
joiot-stock banks, so far from superseding the private
banks, have had no perceptible efibci, if indeed any
affect at all, in narrowing their issues.

Vhe chief advantage conferred on the Bank of Eng-
land, and constltutbg its charter of monopoly, is the
privilege of being the only bank in London, or within
sixty-fire miles of it, having more than six partners,
which can issue notes payable to the bearer on demand.
The Bank has also the privilege of its notes being a legal
tender by other banks for anv sum above £5, so long as
it pays its. notes in cash on demand. This provision is
a security to all other banks against the effects of
sudden runs upon them for gold. It is ordained by
act of puliament, that ' upon one year's notice, given
Ax months after Uie expiry of ten yean from the Ist
of August 1834, and upon repayment by parliament of
all sums that may be due from the public to the Bank
at the time of the expiration of such notice, the exclu-
sive privileges of bankbg granted by this act shall
eease and determine at the expiration of iuch year's
notice.' In 1844-3 there was necessarily a renewal of
the peculiar privileus of the Bank of England, by
whicn they were prolonged to 1855.

5loc|bt— -iSltoeA Exchange. — There are various kinds
of stocks. Shares in d joint-stock company are called
stock, uid so are shares of debts due by government.
No note or document is given by the government to
loan contractorf or holders of stock, as an evidence of
their claiidi. At an office under charge of the Bank

of England, booVl are kept in which are inioribed th«
nati^ of every creditor. The transfer of stock take*
place on certain days, by t^e personal application of
the bolder, or his broker, having a powe: of attorney
to act for him. In the transference, a ^Iler may
break down a large sum into many small ^itms equi-
valent in aggregate amount. If he hol4 £10Q0 of
stock, he may cause the names of ten parlies to.be
entered instead at £lOO each. In these transfers no
noti<^ is taken of the market price of the stock ; 9nly
the nominal amount, or stock at par, it (eco|^ised.

The ordinary sale of government stock is conducted
in an apartment adjoining the Bank of Eu<;land, called
the Stock-£xchan&, and the parties who manage all
transactions of thtk kind me a body of stockbrokers.
From the Stock -Exchange the public are rigorously
excluded. Ko one is admitted except the tiiMcribing
brokers, who pay £10, lOs, per annum, and give secu-
rities to the extent of 4800 against any deficiency in
their transactions, the brokers are a respectable clasa
of men, and seldom is any loss incurred on their account.

The market value of sto<;k fluctuates according to
the abundance or scarcity of money, and the likelihood
of government paying back part oi its borrowed money,
or ne<3di]^g n^w loans. As the national debt can only
be redeemed by buying up stock with any overplus reve-
nue, any prospect of such being done by the apparently
firosperous stat^ of the finances causes the price of stock
rise; and if government were to announce that It
was about to redeem a large portion of the debt, ^tocl^
woifld, immediately rise to par. On some occasionii,
however, from the abundance of money, government
has bieen in a position to announce, that unlets the
holders of certain stocks took a lower rate of interMll,
a new loan at a lower interest would be negotiated to
pay off old debt. By this means alone several niiUiona
of interest per annum have been reduced, while, tho
amount of debt remains much the same. Should it,
on the contrary, appear that government is likely to
borrow more money, from the prospect of a war, or some
other untoward event, the price of stocks fails ; an^
the price at one time fell as low as £57, 178. 6d. per
£100, when of course holders who were under the
necessity of selling experienced prodigious Iobscb.

In the buying and selling of stocks there is usually
much deceit practised, which is known by the name ojf
stock-jobbing. A writer in ' Blackwood's Magazine' for
1813 grat^icaUy notices this nefarious practice as folj-
lows : — 'The practice of stock -jobbing consists in rais.in|;
and circulating reports calculated to raise or depreu
the price of stock, according to the particular views of
the mdividiial. If he wishes, for example, to sell his
stock or bills, he endeavours to proj^agate som^ repor^
or other favourable to the issue of the war, and the
establishment of peace, in order, if possible, to nus^
the price of stock ; and if he wishes to buy, he propa-
gates reports of a contrary tendt^ncy. It is painful to
think that this abominable system is sometimes carried
on by men whose rank and st|ition iii society, to say
nothing of the obligation of monUity and religion, might
be expected to place them far above anjr such disgraceful
acts; but in general, I believe, it is confined to men of
desperate fortune and little character, who subsist by Qp
species of gambling, to which the finance system of inis
country has opened a wide and extensive field. I allude
to those men who make a practice of buying and sell-
ing stock, without actually possessing any, and whose
transactions, thereibre, are nothing more than Wagert
about the price of stock on a certain day. To explain
the nature of the transaction by an example : I sball
suppose that A sells to B a government w\ of £100,
or £100 of 5 per cenc. stock, to be delivered on s cer-
tain future day, and that the price is fl^ed at £102.
If, when the day arrives, the price of stock shall have
&llen to £100, A would be able to purchase the bill in
question for a^IOO, While, in conseouence of his bargain,
B would be obliged to pay him £102 for It, so that A
would gain £2. If, however, stock had risen to £104,
B would still be obli^d 'to give only £102, so that A

609

OHAMBBBffS TSfGBMATUm VOB THE PKOPLB.

wonld loM £3t bn* lartMd of mc^aaify taTing and
Nlling the Hock, tli« bftisikin if gtnmllT implwnMtad
bv A parlnf to B, or Moriring firom him, tho £9, or
whaturor nukj b« the Mm of Iom or gftin. In raeh »
CMC M tkif, it ii obriottiljr A*i intoreit that the price
of ttook iheuld M\, Mid is obTioniljr B'l intereet that
it ihoiild rite, betTreen the da^ of the banain and that
of fettling ; and benoe tht temptation held out to both
to circulate reportf farourable to their own particular
riewf. B, or the bnjrer, if umially denominated a Bull,
at espreffire of hie deeir^ to Iom up; and A, or feller,
a Bear, from hie wif h to trample upon or Iriad d«wn.
The law of ooutie doet not recognife a trantaction which

Eroceedf on a principle of gambling; but a tenee of
onour, or, what If perhapf nearer the truth, .e^-iiUerett,
generallj eecuree the payment of the difftrenoe, af the
peraoii who reftifOf to pay hif losf if exhibited in the
Stock-Exchange under the detignation of a lame duck,
a difgrace which if confidered ae the eentence of baniih-
ment from that fcene of buttle and bufineff.'

Thif laft-mentioned stock, Tarioufly termed public
tecuritiee, or the fundf, requires to be explained.

It has been stated in the article CoNSrrroTioif and
Resourcbs op the British Empirs (No. 62), that since
the revolution of 1688, government has been in the
habit of borrowing money to fupplement the revenue
raised by taxation, chiefly for the purpote of cartyi;:g
on wart; and that the amount of money fo borrowed, at
present (1849) amounts to about ^(800,000,000, which
If called the National Debt. Thif vatt debt compritet
two tpeciet of debit — the funded and unAinded debt.

The un/undtd dtbt ufually amounti to no more than
firom £10,000,000 to £20,000,000 of the whole : it it
only temporary, and consists of promissoiy - notes of
jEIOO, £200, £500, and £1000, issued by the Chancellor
of the Exchequer : these notes, called Excktquer BUli,
bear a certain rate of interest per day : the interest
varies from l^d. to 2^d. per £100 per day. These bills
are exchangeable from hand to hand, and form a kind
of currency convenient to hold as property. Bankert
make coniiderable invettmente in Exchequer Billt.
They are fold from one holder to another at a premium
or ditcount, according to the ttate of the money market.
Exchequer Billt are either paid off by the government
at stipulated periods, or funded — that it, added to the
permanent funded debt.

The funded debt consista of variout denomlnationt
of ttock, bearing different ratet of interett, according
to the terms on which the retpective loans were con-
tracted. The chief stocks are the 3 per cent, consoli-
dated annuities; the 3 per cent, reduced annuities;
and the 3^ per cent, annuitiea: the first -mentioned,
which if ordinarily spoken of aa the S per cent, oontolt,
if the ttock mott in demand: it amounted in 1848 to
£371,824,981. Whatever be the denomination of the
ftock, a description of one method of borrowing or
funding will do for all. The Chancellor of the Ex-
chequer receives power from parliament to borrow, for
example, £10,000,000. This sum he divides into parts
of £100 each; and he maket up iiit mind to pay a cer-
tain interett, tay 3 per cent., icr each £100. He now
advertises for proposals to lend the gross mm required,
tiiese proposals to be sealed and sent to his ofSoe; all
the proposals to be opened on a certain da^: and the
party who offers to give the largett tuia in neaie of
each £100 at the interett tpecified if to be a^xpted.
The acceptor it called the ' contractor for th^ loan.'
The tum usually offered in the name of each £100
varies in amount, according to abundance or scarcity of
money at the time, the credit of the nation, and other
circumstances. Between 1792 and 1802, when laige
sums were borrowed to carry on the war, the average
sum given by oontracton was £S7, 17s. 6d. in name of
each £100 which they lent They gave £57,17f. 6d., and
got an obligation from government for £100. Latterly,
aa money haa been more abundant, and the national
credit improved, about £80 haa oeaa sot for aacL £100
added to the national oblisationfi Whatever be the
arm paid, the intenit it re<»oned on the nominal £100.
510

Tka eontnuster who undertakai the loan payi down a
certain portion, and is allowed tome months to pay the
remainder: daring thif interval he probably tellt paroela
of the ftock at a proAt, till the whole or a laige portion
it difpoaed of. Sometimes two or moiw eontraetora
unite in thete ipeculationt. Suppote £75 it paid in
name of £100 at 3 per cent,, thif would be equal to 4
per cent, if a whole £100 w -i given. The plan of
randing debt by ticking less than is inscribed in the
national books is Juttly centured by all writert at
abflurd and ricioua. For an obligation to the extent
of £i 0,000,000, the government may get in actual
money not more than £7,600,000; and thut the nation
it encumbered with a debt which it never properly in-
curred. According to Mr Porter, in hit work nn the
' Progreet of the Nation,' the national debt has been
increaaed br £83,228,162 in cnntequence of thit most
reprehentible mode of negotiating loanf. The practice
ori^nated in ttate neceetitiet, and in the termt on
which leant are contracted. It la a ttipulation, or at
leatt underttanding, that the borrowers (the govern-
ment) are not to be called on to pay back the loan.
The money it tunk, at it were, for ever, at interett; and
thit arrangement may be contidered to operate to far
detrimentidlr, at to prevent lenders giving the sum of
£100 for a claim to that amount, unless at an exces-
sive interest. Such may be the excuse tendered for a
practice which accommodates the existing generation
at the expense of succeeding ages.

Bankt in Scotland. — The eaniest banking institution
in North Britain was the Bank of Scotland, instituted
by a diarier of ineorporation from the Scots parliament
in 1695. The original capital was £1,200,000 Scott, or
£100,000 sterling. The amount was raiaed by aharea
differing in extent, from £1000 Scots, '>r £83, 6t. 8d.
tterling, to £20,000 Scom. In 1774, the amount of
ftock waa extende.^ t? £200,000 aterling: now it is
£1,000,000 sterling, and the shares £100 sterling.

Thf establishment of the Bank of Scotland was of
great aervioe to the nation; the landholdera borrowing
notea, and bringing the countiy into cultivation, and a
apur being by that meana given to varioua branchea of
manufacturea. The Bank of Scotland continued to be
the only bank in the counti^ till the year 1727, when
a new and aimilar eatabliihmeat waa eonatituted
under the title of the Royal Bank of Scotland, whoie
advanced capital ia now £2,000,000. Theae two
eatabliahmenta engroaaed all the reapectable banking
buaineaa in the country till the year 1746, when another
aaaociation was formed, and incorporated by royal
charter, with the title of the Britiah Linen Company.
The object of thia anociation waa at firat to encourace
the linen manuftcture of Scotland, but gradually It
fell into the course of common banking buaineaa, and
now oocupiea a high atation among theae inatitutiont.
From £100,000, the capital of thia bank haa been
raiaed to £500,000, where it haa long remained ita.
tionaiy. By adroit management, it awries on an im-
mense deal o:i' business, and posaeaaea aa high credit as
any banking establishment in Scotland.

Theae are allowed to take precedence of others
erected in the subsequent part of last, and in the pre-
sent centuiy, either in Edinburgh or in the provinces;
and their shareholdera enjoT the privilege of being
reaponaible onlv for their individual stock.

All the banka, with few exceptiona, are joint-stock
associations, and are banks both of deposit and iitue.
Except the few private houaea, all iaauc notea of one
pound and upwards, which are payable on demand at
the office whence thev are iaaaed. It was at one time
ordained that Soottiah 'bank-notea ahould not be re-
iaaued after they were three yeara old; but auch a regu-
lation ia abrogated, and they are now aent out aa long
aa they are in good condition. Almoat all the modem
notea are on apecially-prepued pnper, and are pro-
duced from platea of hardened ateel, of auch peculiar
and intricate devices, that foigeiy cannot be attempted
with Buooeaa, or remidn long undetected.
No periodical ntams of their iiraea are made by the

BANKB.

flcottiah b*nki. Bnl on tnrninff to the oridenoe giron
befnre the parlUmentftry connnitteM of '826, we And
the uiual T»lue of the imkll notee in ciroulation eeti-
m»ted by Mr Paul of the Corameroial Bank, and Mr
Blair of the British Linen Company, at £1,800,000,
which it increaeed by a third at particular waeoni,
and when trade is briik. The committee eatimate the
paper money of all kindi in circulation in 1836 at
£3,309,082. But in the vear of great epecalation,
182A, they eitiraate the higheit amount of notei in cir-
culation at £4,683,000, th 'oweit at £3,434,000. By
the law of 1844 (lubieq .y noticed) the maximum
authorised iHue is £3,087,209.

The following it a return of the joint-ttock banki
existing in Scotland at Ath Janoary 1839, with the
dates of their eatabliahment : —

The Bank of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1695; the Royal
Bank of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1727; the British Linen
Company, Edinburgh, 1746; the Commercial Bank of
Sootland, Edinburgh, 1810; the National Bank of Scot-
land, Edinburgh, 1825; the Aberdeen Bank, Aberdeen,
1825; tho Ayr Bank, Ayr, 1825; the Dundee Bank-
ing Company, Dundee, 1825; the Dundee Union Bank,
Dundee, 1325; the Dundee New Bank, Dundee, 1825;
the Glasgow Dank Company, Qlisffow, 1825 ; the
Greenock Bank, Greenock, 1825 ; the Loith Bank,
Leith, 1825; the Paisley Bank, Paisley, 1825; the
Perth Banking Company, Perth, 1825 ; tho Renfrew-
shire Banking Company, Greenock, 1825; the Paisley
Union Bank, Paisley, 1809; the Aberdeen Town and
County Bank, Aberdeen, 1825; the Arbroath Bank,
Arbroath, 1825; the Dundee Commercial Bank, Dun-
dee, 1825; the Glasgow Union Banking Company,
Glasgow, 1830; the Ayrshire Banking Company, Ayr,
1881; the Western Bank of Sootland, Glasgow, 1832;
the Central Bank of Scotland, Perth, 1834; the North
of Scotland Banking Company, Aberdeen, 1836; the
Clydesdale Banking Company, Glasgow, 1837 ; the
Southern Bank of Scotland, Dumfries, 1837; the fast-
em Bank of Scotland, Dundee, 1838; Edinburgh and
Leith Bank, Edinburgh, 1838; being twenty-nine in
all. Of the above list, seTeral have been dissolred, or
united with others, so that the number of Banks in
Sootland empowered to issue notes by the law of 1844
is now only nineteen.

The business done by the Scottish bankiog-houaei
is prodigiously increasM by the institution of their
branches in the provincial and country towns. From
those banks already noticed, which are situated in Edin-
burgh, and from two or three of the chief provincial
banks, there were altogether deputed, not long since,
about 360 branches, and this number is undergoing a
regular increase. These subsidiary establishments are
to be found in e'ary town of any note, from the Bor-
ders to the most northern point of Scotland. They are
conducted by resident wealthy or responsible merchants
and others, who give securities for intromissions, and are
subjected to a veiy rigorous supervision bv inspectors,
who are continually travelling about for this purpose.

The prudent and enterprising manner in which the
businesi of banking is conducted in Sootland, has often
boon the subject of remark '^nd commendation. Several
reasons may be assigned for the remarkable stability
of the Scotdi banks. Each bank, before gaining credit
with its neighbours, must show thi>t it possesses a suffi-
cient paid-up capital, witH a reserve mnd in London,
on which orders for balances may be given. It is also
the custom of the banks to exchange the notes of each
other cnce or twice a week, by which means the notes
are sent very speedily back to the issuers, and thus an
over-issue en the par* of any single establishment is
prevented. There can only 1m an over-issue by all the
hanks in the country beooming equally reckless — a
thing not likely to occur to any serious extent. A third
cause of the stability of the institutions, is the liability
of shareholders for the debts of the establishment.
Excepting in the ease of the three old-eitablished banks
above siwoified, all the ihareholden in the various
baoka m li«bl« not only fn the mnoant of their own

tharei, but for th* shtiet of all ih« others { and ih»
whole of their property may be seised to make up
deficiencies. Although many of the shareholdets art
certi^ly not men of opulence, a number are to; and aa
their fortunes are gooa for the paper issued, the public
rune no risk of ii^ury. To strengthen this liability of
shareholders, by the law of Scotland all heritable pro-
perty, lands and houses, may be seised in satisfisotion
for their debtJ. As this is not the case in England,
where personal or movable property can alone be
taken bv creditors, it would not be possible to estab-
lish banks in the south part of the island on the prin-
ciple of the Scottish banks till the law toaehing heri-
table property underwent alteration.

Other causes, not of a legal nature, conspire to render
the system of Scottish bankins perfect. By reason of
the ciroumsoribed limits of Scotland, and the character
of the people, a ramification of intelligence is created
and preserved throughout the whole of society, alto-
gether unknown in England, whereby the character,
the wealthiness, and the conduct of the partners or
directors of each bank, are made fully known to the
rest. All seek, and all find, a knowledge of the ma-
nagement of each other. All are mutually on the
watch; and symptoms of over-issues or other impro-
prieties are spread with an amazinv celerity, and have
their immediate effect with the public.

In comparing Scottish banking inrtitutions with
those in England, and considering the different man-
ner iu which paper money has bmn employed by th«
two nations, the uniform securitj of the former appears
almost miraculous. From the first issue of the bank-
notes in 1704, till the year 1830, a single panio or general
run did not occur in Scotland, although, during at least
two-thirds of the intervening period, paper money had
been used to the almost totu exclusion of a gold cur-
rency.' Partial and very temporary runs have assuredly
been felt, from the effects of short-lived slander or mis-
taken notions, which have invariably been readily
quashed; but in the course of a hundred and twenty-
six years, there have only been two or three cases of
banks failine to pay 20s. a pound (they paid 10s.), and
four in which, aner a short suspension ai payments, all
demands were liquidated. Their failure or stoppage, with
the exceptions we mention, did not put the public to
any loss; but this was to the injury of the shareholders,
many of whom were reduced from affluence to poverty.

The peculiar dtaracterof Scottish banking was mudt
infringed upon by an act of parliament passed in the
year 1844, which limito the number of banks Issuing
notes to the number then existing; and obliges every
bank of issue to keep a, stock of sovereigns, according
to a pruscribed standard, which may be said to be as
the rate of one sovereign for every two pound-notes
issued. About a million of sovereigns thus lie looked
up in the Scottish bankn, for they are not seen in the
circulation of Scotlanu. The loss of ii.Mrest incurred
bv this arrangement amounts to about £50,000 annu-
ally. So serious a deduction from the profits of bank-
ing has had the effect of greatly limiting the exten-
sion of cash accounts and other accommodations. The
number of the buiks empowered to issue notes by this
act is 19; their branches, 863; their capital,£ll,240,000:
and their authorised circulation, £3,088,209.

The common practice of making deposits of small
sums in the banks, has further assisted in giving
strength to the institutions. Each bank receives deposits
of any sum above £10, for which a regular interest is
given; and on this account the banks may be said to
bo the custodiers and traders upon all the spare capi'M
of the country. Besides employing capital in disoou
ing bills, lending money on heritable security, fcc. '
Scottish banks grant loans of fluctuating amount, caliea
oaak aecownls. By a cash account is signified a pro-
cess, whereby an individual, on entering into an ar-
rangement with a bank, is entitled to draw out sums
as required, to a stipulated amount, and by an implied
condition, to make depodts at his coBTenisnoe towards
the liqaidatlon of the same.

511

OHAMBiBra nnroBiiAiioir roB thi fbopia

Ctak Mcounto m« mM to tet* origlaslad from tho
followiiif oiNuiutanw ^-A clHipkooMr in Sdinbaigk,
in tk« TMT 17301 found hiniMlf nt tlmwi in uo po m i
•ion of moN thu n Mifloienl Mippljr of nady monoj to
cknr on liia trado, tiM oTorplui of whicli lie couiignod
to tM OMO of tho ncicbbouring b»nk. But ou othor
ocoMioui, by roMon of the Itngth of the crodito giron
to Uf cuttomon, hii money MCftme m mmco, that
After eihauiting hit bank depoiitt, he etill felt himielf
in diileultiei. Several dilemma* of thie kind baring
occurred, he wae prompted to make a propoial of a
jioTot nature to the bank— to the effect that, if it would
accommodate him in itrait* with small loani, he would
alwayi shortly afterwards make ud such debits, and
that the parties should come to a balancing of accounts
•t perioaical interTala It seems this proposal was
acceded to. A ca«h credit, or liberty to draw to a cer-
tain extent, was instituted under approved securities;
and thus originated a system which has been of im-
mense benefit to bankers and traders, and is now fol-
lowed over the whole of Scotland.

Cash credits are guaranteed by two sufficient securi-
ties, or the applicants give infeitment to heritable pro-
perty in caution of the contingent delt, and when any
such debt is liquidated, the deed is cancelled. The es-
penso of ezpeding a cash credit varies according to
the amount of the desired loan. One for £600 may be
stated at about £15. The deed requires no renewal.
At the end of every six, and in some cases twelve
months, calculations are made of entries and debits ;
the interest for and against the bonk — the one being a
percent, higher than the other — is added and balanced,
«nd an .ccount being then rendered, the balance, if in
favour of the bank, is either paid up, or remains against
the debtor at interest to hit new account. In these
cash credits the borrower is always of course at the
mercy of the bank, which can call upon him at any
time to balance his account, or, by his failing to do so,
liave recourse upon his securities.

Since 1729, cash credits hare increased to an amaz-
ing extent. In 1826, it was computed that there were
TEN THOUSAND in Scotland, varying in amount from
iClOO to £5000 each, but areragmg from £200 to
£500. Though originally designed for mercantile por-
■ons, tht r are now operated upon by farmers, manufac-
turers, hi>use-bttildert, minets, lawyers, and all classes
of tradeia and shopkeepers. Duruijg the last twenty
jrears, it is extremely probable that, mttead of decreas-
ing, tiiey hare increased a thousand or two more.

Iriih Bank$.—Tht Bank of Ireland was established
in 1783, and the same restriction — we quote Mr M'Cul-
loch — as to the number of partners in other banks
that formerly prerailed in England was enacted in its
favour. Owing to that and other causes, the bank-
xuptcies of prirate banks hare been more frequent in
Ireland than in England. In 1821, this restriction was
repealed, as respects all parts of the country more than
fitly Iridi miles from Dublin. Since that period sere-
ral banking companies, with large bodies of partners,
bare been set on foot in different parts of the country ;
of these the Prorineial Bunk, founded ou the Scotch
model, if among the most flourishins. By the act of
1844, the circulation of the Irish banu empowered to
issue notes was £6,354,494.

Banks are in the present day established in erery
cirilised countnr. In the United States of North Ame-
rica they hare been instituted to a ^reat extent, and
frequently on most unsound priuciples, their notes
being for rerjr small sums, and these in few instances
negotiable without a loss at a comparatirely short
distance from the place of issue ; often, also, there ht*
been a unirersal stoppage of cash payments, in con-
sequence of orer-issues of paper money, a sure testi-
mony that the country was trading beyond what its
actual capital warranted. It is this liability to exceed
legitimate bounds which throws discredit on a paper
eurmuff in contradistinction to one of gold and silrer.
Were bank-notes in all cases to be a representatire of
property impledged for their payment on demand, and
513

could sudi property be Instaiitaneoosly realisable, in
the erent oi a run on the banks for payment, there
would be little ol^eetion to their free usue. Exeept,
howerer, in Scotland, where banking has been con-
ducted on rery cautious terms, notes hare been on
many occasions put in circulation representing no-
thing ; and serious losses has been the consequence.
Such is one of the great difficulties that besot the
question of the Cubbcmcv.

iSnviNsis'-AmAf.— These are banks for receiring and
taking charge of small sums, the sarings of inoustry,
and hare been instituted for the benefit of workmen
and others, who may be able to spare a shillinc and
upwards from their weekly earnings. The first sartnos*.
bank is understood to hare been Mgun in Philadelphia
in 1816, since which time they hare been established
ill all parts of the United Kingdom, France, and other
c< untnes. Serenl acts of parliament were succes-
sively passed between 1817 and 1828 for the regulation
of sarings'-banks in Ensland ; and in the year last
mentioned, the whole of uiese were consolidated in one
statute (9 Geo. IV. chap. 92). This act, together with
another passed in 1833, conferring additional and
important privileges on savings'-banks (8 Will. IV.
chap. 14), constitutes the existing law relative to these
useful establishments; in 1835, the act was extended
to Scotland. Sarings'-banks established according to
the prorisions of these acts are entitled National Secu-
rity Sarinn'-Banks, because the money deposited in
them is paid into the Bank of England on account of
goremment, whereby the nation becomes security for
the amount of deposits — a security reckoned the best
of all that could be giren to depositors. The inte-
rest giren by goremment on the sums to depoeited is
L.3, 5s. Od. per cent, per annum, whatcrer may be
the fluctuations in the ralae of the public funds during
the term of inrestment. This rate of interest being
highelr than what goremment could otherwise borrow
money for, it happens that the public are really losing
money annually by their generosi^. The rate of inte-
rest payable to the depositors is £2, 17s. 9|d.

Deposits of from one ihiUing to thirty poimda may bo
receired by these banks ; but no individual depositor is
allowed to lodge more than thirty pounds in one year,
or than £150 in whole. Charitable and prorident in-
stitutions may lodge funds to the amount of £100 in a
single year, or £3^ in all ; and Friendly Societies are
permitted to d^KMit the whole of their funds, whatever
may be their amount. Compound interest Is aiven on
the sums lodged, the interest being added to uie prin-
cipal at the end of each year in some banks, and at the
end of each half-vear in others, arid interest afterwards
allowed on the whole. Any depositor may receive, on
demand, the money lodged by him, if it do not amount
to a considerable sum ; apd vtn in that case it will be
returned on a few days', or at most two or three weeks'
notice. Practically, payment is always made on de-
mand. The wisest and most effectual prorisions are
made for insuring the proper management of the affkirs
of the banks, so uiat tkoee wh» intrust them with their
mone^ may place implicit reliance on its safety. Each
depositor is prorided with a small book, in which his
deposits are entered, and the amount c* his interest
marked. On the 20th of NoremNer, the interest is
added in the bank booki whether tL ) depositor call or
not. It is computed for the full ten i, and upon every
fifth fraction of a pound. Depositors hare thus the ad-
rantage of baring their principal sum gradually iu-
creasinc at 3 per cent, compound intONst. So suc-
cesdul has been the establishment of the sarings' banks,
that the amount of deposits, chiefly the property of the
humbler classes, u now upwards of £32,000,000, and
is annually increasing. In 1845, the number of indivi-
dual depositors was considerably abore 1,000,000. For
further information respecting these beneficial institu-
tions, the reader is referred to a subsequent number on
ths Sqcul EcoMomoB or tub iNovnuovs Ordbbs,

Utly NkliMblt, in

for pftymant, thtr*

tag hM been oon-
>tei hftTe been on
1 rapNMnting no-
1 the oonitquenn.
H tb»t beMi the

POPULATION-POOR-LAWS-LIFE-ASSURANCE.

I for receiTlog and
kTinmof inouttry,
•nent of workmen
lare » ibilltnc md
The flret eaTinn'.
un in PhU«delphU
e been eitobliihed
, France, and other
nent were luocea.
) for the regulation
1 in the year laet
coufolidated in one
I act, together with
ig additional and
Mikt (8 Will. IV.
iw relatire to these
act wa* extended
ished according to
lied National Seou-
loney deposited in
and on account of
Dcomei security for
reckoned the best
ositers. The inte-
imf te depoeited is
, whatever may be
)ublic fundi during
e of interest being
1 otherwise borrow
|ic are really losing
The rate of inte-
171. 9id.

irty pound* may be
ividual depositor is
ounda in one year,
and proTident in-
lount of j£100 in a
Bndly Sodeliee ate
funds, whatever
iterest is aiven on
idded to the prin-
banks, and at the
interest afterwards
may receive, on
it do not amount
)hat case it will be
wo or three weeks'
ra^i made on de-
provisions are
ment of the affairs
st them with their
its safety. Each
took, in which his
nt o< hi* interest
the interest is
depositor call or
, and upon every
have thus the ad-
im gradually iu-
intwest. So suc-
he savings' banks,
« property of the
£32,000,000, and
lUrober of indivi-
e 1,000,000. For
leneficial institu-
quent number on
ous OBDua,

ir.

POPULATION.
Thb rate at which human beings naturally increase,
the proportion which this increase bears to the means
«Uoh exist for their subsistence, and the laws which
oMrato to bring the increase and the means of sub-
sIMMMN into conformity, were mibjects scarcely re-
flected on by our ancestors, but have been matter of
keen diseasnon and controversy during the first thirty
years of the present century.

As far as population was at all thought of in former
timee, the prevalent doctrine was, that the greater the
numbers of a nation, the stronger was the state, and the
more likely was that country to be a scene of both agri-
cultural and commercial industry. So useful were
numbers considered for increasing the means of sub-
sistence, and also of national defence, that in many
countries it was thought proper to make laws for en-
couraging matrimony, and to put bounties on all fami-
lies exceeding a certain number. So lately as the
time of Louis XIV., pensions were awarded in France
to individuals who had ten or more children.

Dr Adam Smith, in his * Wealth of Nations,' was
perhaps the first to iucgeit anything like a law as recu-
lating the increase ofpopulation. He remarked that
* the demand for mmt, like that for any other com-
mouity, necessarily regulates the production of men ;
quickens it when it goes on- too slowly, and stops it
when it advancA too fast. It is this demand,' savs he,
' which regulates and determiiies the state of population
in all the different countries of the world — in North
AraerioK, in Europe, and in China; which renders it
rapidly procressive in the first, slow and gradual in the
second, and altogether stationary in the last.'

VIXW8 OF MB HALTRIIS.

The preceding hint, for it can be regarded as little
else, is said to have been what suggested the celebrated
essay of Mr Malthus, which first appeared in 1798,
but was almost reconstructed in a second edition in
1808. There waa something so startling in the views
of thii writer, and at the same time so much plausi-
bility in his arguments, distressing as they were to
natural feelings, that his work attracted general atten-
tion, and many of the ablest thinkers and writers of the
day became converts to its main doctrines.

An abridgment of Mr Malthus's views, given in the
' Edinburgh Review' for Aueust 1810, sets out by show-
ing that * the rate of population is by no meant the same
in all parts of the world.' The variations in the rate
are universally preceded and accompanied by variations
in the means of maintaining labourers. ' Where these
funds are rapidly increasing, as in North America, the
demand for an mcreasing number of labourers makes
it easy to provide an ample subsistence for each ; and
the population of the country is observed to make rapid
advances. When these funds increase only at a moderate
rate, u in most of the countries of Europe, then the
demand for labourers is moderate; the command of the
labourer over the means of subsistence is consequently
much diminished; and the population is observed to
proceed at a moderate pace, varying in each country,
as nearly aa may be, aeeording to the variations in the
funds for its support. Where these funds are station-
ary, as we are taugbti to believe is the case in China,
and aa has certainly been the caae in Spain, Italy, and
ptobably most of tiie countries of Europe daring certain
periods of their history, there the demand for labour
being stationary, the command of the labourer over the
means of subsiiiteuce is comparatively very scanty, and
population is observed to make no pertseptible progress,
and WDMtimat to be even dimini:hed.
No. 88.

In the second place, it Is a fact equally notorious,
that the actual increase of the Ainds for the mainte-
nance of labour does not depend upon the mere phy>
sical capacity of any particular country to produce food
and other nedtasanes, but upon the degree of settled
industry, intelligence, «nd activity, with which thesa
powers are at any particular time called forth. We
observe countries possessing every requisite for produc-
ing the necessaries and conveniences of life in abun-
dance, sunk in a state of ignorance, indolence, and
apathy, from the vices of their governments, or the
unfortunate constitution of their society, and slum-
bering on for ages with scarcely any increase in tha
means of subsistence, till some fortunate event intro-
duces a better order of things; and then the industry
of the nation being roused and permitted to exert
itself with more freedom, more abundant Ainds for
.le maintenance of labour are immediately provided,
a.>d population is observed to make a sudden start
forwards, at a rate altogether different from that at
which it had previously proceeded.

This seems to have been the case with many of tha
countries of Europe durine some periods of their his-
tory ; but is more particularly remarkable in Russia,
the population of which, though venr early inhabited,
was so extremely low before the beginning of the last
century, and has proceeded with such rapid steps since,
particularly since the reign of Catherine II.

It is also a fact that has often attracted observation
in a review of the history of different nations, that the
waste of people occasioned by the great plagues, famines,
and other devastations to which the human race has
been occasionally subject, has been repaired in a much
shorter time thf\n it would have been if the population,
after these devastations. Lad only proceeded at the
same rate as before. From which it is apparent, that
after the void thus occasioned, it must have increased
much faster than usual ; and the greater abundance of
the funds for the maintenance of labour, which would
be left to the survivors under such circumstances, indi-
cates again the usual conjunction of a rapid increase of
population with a rapid increase of the funds for its
maintenance. In England, just after the great pesti-
lence in the time of Edward III., a day's labour would
purchase a bushel of wheat ; while, immediately before,
it would hardly have purchased a peck.

With regard to the minor variations in the different
countries of Europe, it is an old and familiar observa-
tion, that wherever any new channels of industry and
new sources of wealth an opened, so as to provide the
means of supporting an additional number of labourers,
there, almost immediately, a stimulus is given to the
population; and it proceeds for a time with a vigour
and celerity proportionate to the greatness and dura-
tion of the funds on which alone it can subsist.'

From these and other premises, Mr Malthus laid it
down as a proved fact, that population tends to increase
at the rate of a doubling every twenty -five yeaid. He
at the same time endeavoured to snow that, as man
begins to use the best lands first, or in other words,
those of which he can reap the fruits vrith least labour,
and then has to go to worse and worse, it becomes always
more and more difficult to obtain the means of subsist-
ence for increasing numbers. He concluded that, at the
utmost, the means of subsistence would be found, at
the end of each suecesrive quarter of a century, to have
increased only at the rate of double for the first, triple
for the second, quadruple for the third, and so on. Thus
(said he) whUe population would go on increasing in a
geometrical ratio— that is, as 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 82, 64, 128,
&c. — ^food would increase only in an arithmetical ratio—
that is, as 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 6, 7, 8, &c.— and tl\e consequence

■■Pi

OHAMBEBS'B INrORMATIOV fOB THI PIOPUB.

of an unohMkcd Idonm* of tho ono, with Iho utmoti
powlbla inorMM of tho othor, would bo. that when the
popuiation of »ho f lobo h«d •dT»noo<l to 400,000 mil.
fioni, (hore would bo food for 10,000 mllliou onl/, or
but » ftftloth port of tho number I

Cotiiiilering, tlian, that there ii » power and a ten-
deno/ ill human beiiigi to increaio to rapidly, and that,
in point of fact, it it oiiljr in a few faroureu ipote that
the/ do inereaae at luch a rate, Mr Malthue conoluded
that there muit be lome counteracting agenciei, or
thteki, in constant operation, in ainioit all ooniniunitiei,
to rettrain population at a lower rate of inereaae, or
keop it itationarjr. In looking about to diKurer theio
oheckf, ho latitfled himself that they were of two
orders : first, there was the mortality produced by the
ofTocts of deficient food and of wicked passions; these
he called poiitivt chtck$ ; then there was the check

Itroduoed by a prudent forethought in human beings,
eading them to avoid marriage, un account of the little
prospect of being able to rear a family in comfort; this
no called the preventive cheek.

Arriving at this point, M' Malthus and his followers

Jirooeeded to show how their doctrines were applicable
br the benefit of communities. It was held that there
could be no choice between the two kinds of chocks : it
was clearly preferable that population should be re>
■trained by the proTentive check. ' It is observed,'
says the Keview already quoted, ' in most countries,
that in years of scarcity and dearness the marriages
are fewer than usual : and if, under all the great
rariations to which the increase of the means of sub-
sistence is necessarily exposed from a variety of causes
— from a plenty or scarcity of land, from a good or a
bad government, from the general prevalence of in>
telligence and industry or of ignorance and indolence,
from the opening of new channels of commerce or the
closing of old ones, &c. &c. — the population were pro-
portioned to the actual means of subsistence, more by
tho prudence of the labouring classes in delaying mar-
riage, than by the misery which produces premature
mortality among their children, it can hardly be
doubted that the happiness of the mass of mankind
would be decidedly improved.

It is further certain, that, under a given increase of
the funds for the maintenance of labour, it is physically
impossible to give to each labourer a larger share of
these funds, or materially to improve his condition, with-
out some increase of the preventive check; and conse-
quently that all efforts to improve the condition of the
poor, that have no tendency to produce a more favour-
able proportion between the means of subsistence and
the population which is to consume them, can only be
partial or temporary, and however plaubbly humane,
must ultimately defeat their own object.

It follows, therefore, as a natural and neoessary con-
elusion, that in order to improve the condition of the
lower classes of society, to make them suffer less under
any diminution of the ian<\n for the roainteuance of
labour, and enjoy more ui.irr an^ actual state of these
funds, it should be the gi«at busiaess to diKourage
helpless and improvident habuta, aad to raise them as
much as possible to the omtdMUMi n€ b«inft who " look
before and after." I'be -MMtaes wk«>-k principally tend
to foster helpleu, indolent, and improvident habits
among the lower classes of society, seem to be despo-
tism and ignorance, and every plan of conduct towards
them which increaoes their dependence and weakens
the motives to penviiul exertion. The caus«k, again,
which principally tend to promote habits of industry
and prudence, seem to be good government Mid good
education, and every circumstance which tends to in-
crease their independence and respectability. Where-
•rer the registers of a country, under no particular
disadvantages of strution, indicate a great mortality,
and the general pt««alenc« of the check arising from
disease and death ,>ver the check arising from pru-
dential habits, there we almost inrariably find the
peopla debaaed by oppression and rank in ignoraitce
and indoloiot. WlMi*Twr, oa the oontraiy, in a co«n-
614

try without peouUar advantages of situation, or paeq.
liar capability of increase, the registers indicate a com.
paratively small mortality, and the prevalence of tba
check from prudential habits above that from prema-
ture mortality, there we as constantly find security of
property established, and some degme of intelligenoe
and knowledge, with a taste for cleanliness ana do-
mestic comforts, pretty generally difiUsed.

Nor does experience seem to Justify the fears of
those who think that one vice at least will increase in
proportion to the increase of the preventive check to
jmpulation. Norway, Switserland, England, and Scot-
land, which are most distinguished for the smallnsss
of their mortality, and the operation of the prudential
restraint on marriage, may be compared to advantage
with other countries, not only with regard to the ge-
neral moral worth and respectability of their inha-
bitants, but with regard to the virtues which relate to
the intercourse of the sexes. We cannot,* as Mr Mal-
thus iustly observes, * estimate with tolerable accu-
racy the degree in which chastity in the single state
prevails : our general conclusions must be founded on
general results; and these are clearlv in our favour.

We ap|)ear, therefore, to be all along borne out by
experience and observation, both in our premises and
conclusions. From what we see and know, indeed, we
cannot rationally expect that the passions of man will
ever be so completely subjected to his reason, as to
enable him to avoid all the moral and physical evils
which depend upon his own conduct. But this is merely
saying that perfect virtue is not to be expected on earth,
an assertion by no means new, or peculiarly applicable
to the present discussion. The differences oDMrvable in
different nations, in the pressure of the evils resulting
from the tendency of the human race to increase faster
than the means of subsistence, entitle us fairly to con-
clude, that those which are in the best state are still
susceptible of considerable improvement, and that the
worst may at least be made equal to the best. This is
surely sufficient both to animate and to direct our exer-
tions in the cause of human happiness; and the direc-
tion which our efforts will receive, from thus turning
our attention to the laws that relate to the increase and
decrease of mankind, and seeing their effects exempli-
fied in the state of the different nations around us, will
not be into any new and suspicious path, but into the
plain beaten track of morality. It will be our duty
to exert ourselves to procure the establishment of
just and equal laws, which protect and give respecta-
bility to the lowest subject, and secure to each menilit^r
of the community the fruits of his industry; to eikleiid
the benefits of education as widely as possible, that to
the long liat of errors from passion, may not be added
the still lon^r list of errors from ignorance; and, in
general, to discourage indolence, improvidence, and a
blind indulgence of appetite without regard to conae-
<faences; and to encourage industry, prudence, and the
•ubjection of the passions to the dictates of reason. The
only change, if change it can be called, which the study
of the laws of population can make in our duties, is,
that it will lead us to apply, more steadily than we have
hitherto done, the great rules of morality to the case of
marriage, and the direction of our charity; but the rules
themselves, and the foundations on which they rest, of
course remain exactly where they were before.'

This must be considered as the mildest possible ex-
position of the application of Mr Malthus's doctrines :
his theory almost necessarily led to some other prac-
tical inferences, of a kind to which it is not so easy for
a humane mind to assent. It came to be held, for in-
stance, that where the preventive check had not ope-
rated, it was quite legitimate to allow the positive to
come into operation. A human being, who had come
into existence undemanded by the st&te of the funds
for subsistence, was to be told that the places at Nature's
table wore all occupied, and tMre was no cover for him.
To the man who roarriedl when there was a redundancy
of population, < all pariah assistance,' said Mr Malthus,
' should b« most rigidlj d«&Md ; and if the hand of

POPULATION.

iktion, or p«ea«
Indicate • eoni>
wvftUnc* of tb«
\mt from preiiia-
flml Micurity of
» of InlclUsenca
.nlloNa M>d do>
wd,

ify the feara of
will InoreMe in
reiitire check to
gland, and 8cot-
ur the tmallneH
if the prudential
•d to adrantage
ggard to the ge.
y of their liiha-
I which relate to
not,' at Mr MaU
1 tolerable accu>
the lingle state
it be founded on
in our favour,
ng borae out by
>ur premltei and
know, indeed, we
■iont of man will
hie reaion, a* to
nd phyiieal eTili
But thii ii merely
ixpeoted on earth,
uliarlv applicable
ncei oDiervable in
he evili resulting
to increase faster
I us fairly to con-
est state are still
ent, and that the
the best. This is
to direct our exer-
)ss; and the direc-
from thus tuminv

the increase and

effects exempli-
ns around us, will
jatb, but into the
will be our duty
establishment of
nd give respecta-

to each moiiiber
dustry; to «>>ileiid

possible, that to
lay not be added
gnorance; and, in
iroTidenoe, and a

regard to conte-
)rudence, and the
t«s of reason. The

which the study
in our duties, is,
^ily than we have
,lity to the case of
rity; but the rules
hioh they rest, of
before.'

Idest possible ex-
Ithus's doctrines:

■ome other prac-

is not so easy for

be held, for in-
eck had not ope-

the positive to
g, who had come
of the funds
ilaces at Nature's
no cover for him.
m» a redundancy
aid Mr Malthus,

1 if the luuid of

wAfiM oharity b« stittched forth la hit relief, the in-
ierettt of humanity imperioutly require that it should
be adroinittered verv sparingly.' These notions were
adopted very generally by a olast of pol itlcal economists,
and for twenty yeats they were in vogue in l^gland,
where the uoturiuut abuses of the old poor-law had
prepared the minds of nfanv for taking extreme views
wltn regard to nublio charity. Kut it was impossible
for the great bulk of the community to give a cordial
reception to doctrines so violently In opposition to the
diotatM of the natural feelings.

OBJKCTIUNI TO MR MALTUUg's VlBWt.

A reaction at length took place against the Malthu-
tian theory, and views having an opposite tendency were
presented bv various writers, the must distiiiguishod of
whom WM Mr M. T. Sadler, whose work, entitled * The
Law of Population,' appeared in 1U30.

By these writers it was represented that in America
and the Australian colonies there was an evident ten-
dency in subsistence to increase in a more rapid ratio
than population, insomuch thut flocks and herds became
a drug, and it was not uncommon in Brazil to use fat
carcases of mutton as fuel in limekilns. The only
difficulty experienced in those regions was in obt- <ning
a market for the vast amount of produce not needed by
the native population, llei'e, it was said, is a clear case
in disproof of^ the proposition, that population always
tends to increase more rapidly than tood.

As for the geometric ratio of the human increase, by
which so great an alarm had been excited, what was it,
af^er all, out a different form of the obvious truth, that
the more people there were, there would be the more
parents, and consequently the more children I Suppose
ten families, existing in 1800, having become twenty
in 1835, it might certainly be expected that the addition
between the last date and 18.50 would be other twenty,
not ten merely, seeing that the start was not from ten,
as it had been before, but from twenty. Such is but an
unavoidable consequence of population swelling by mul-
tiplication, and not by addition. But if the human
family follows this ratio of increase, so do all the orders
of organic beings, animal and vegetable; sheep, oxen,
and nogs increase at the geometric ratio as well as
mankind, and what is more, they begin to multiply at
a much earlier period of life. Poultry, for instance,
could probalilv iitulti|>ly themselves a million of timos
before ii nple of the human race could do so once.
The Tc^M«hlo food of man is capable of a still more

rapi " Hse. Wheat generally returns from ten to

twt .11 one year. The produiw of a single acre

of thui urmin, increased year after year in the ordinary
w«iy, winuld require only fourteen yean to reach an
•raoutitc which would occupy the whole cultivable sur-
face of the globe. And as it is with wheat, so is it with
most of the other plants on which we depend for food,
either for ourselves or for the animals which become
food to ui. So that, instead of there being any such
disagreement between the natural possibilities of in-
crease in human beings and subsistence, as Mr Malthus
and his disciplea insisted on, there would appear to be
a discrepancy in exactly the contrary way ; that is to
say, the means of subsistence appear to be capable of
a much more rapid increase than human beings.

But — the Maithusians object — when the best soils
are all under cultivation, it is necessary to resort to the
inferior. These require more labour and afford less
return. There is therefore a deereatiny fertility in the
couutiy, while its population is always increasing. To
this it it replied by the opposite party, that while worse
and worse loilt are in the course of being resorted to,
better and better modes of culture are coming into
operation, to at to make perhapt a third-rate soil
capable of producing as much, by a certain amount of
labour, at a second-rate soil wat a few yean before,
and to on with tbe other qualities, each Ming raited a
degree in the tcale by every fresh effort of human in-
mnuity. In pobt of fact, the bett Britiih toils do now
B«ur four timM the quutity of grftin which thej did »

few oenturlts ago, and millions of acres then deemed
unfit for tillage now produce at much by the same de«
gree of labour as the Dest soils did at that time. Add
to this improved modes of culture, which lessen the
amount of laboar. the application of stimulants hitherto
unknown, and also more economical modes of sowing
and preparing food, and yuu have a ratio of increase
in the means of subsistence equivalent to anythiug
anticipated in the progress of population.

The Maithusians, however, were said br their oppo*
nents to derive the strength of their case nrom limitmc
their views to a certain region. Their propositions, ii
was admitted, might be true with regard to a popu>
lation shut up in a certain small space, without any
connection with what wat beyond. But such a p»pu.
lation never existed, and therefore the apprehended
evils never could take place. From the ■ .trliest notices
we have of the human family, it appears to have been
their custom to spread abroad over the soil, when they
found that food could be more easily obtained at a dit>
taiice from the natal spot than at tn^ natal spot itself.
The original command siren to man, to inertatt mni
multiply and rtpUnish Itu tarth, is only In accordane*
with what has always appeared at a tendency of the
race. It is probable tbat at the present time not
above one -hundredth part of the earth's surface it
cultivated, and not one-hundredth part of that culti-
vated in a scientific or advantageous manner; whilst
from what has taken place, we may reasonably caleu>
late upon the productiveness of the beat -cultivated
parts being yet greatly increased. With such an almost
indefinite field still before us, it seems absurd to b«
under any anxiety as to the supposed tendency of th«
human family to a too rapid increase. The superabun*
danue of one district has only to go to some yet un«
peopled spot, or to exert ingenuity and industry to rais*
more food from that which they do occupy, in order
to maintain themselves in comlort. There is another
means whereby it may chance that a superabundant
population can support itielf in the native locality,
though the productiveness of that locality falls short
of the demand for food. If it possess advantages for
manufactur<!S, it can exert its industry in that way,
and exchange the products for food raised in other
countries, where subsistence exceeds population, and
advantages for manufactures do not exist.

The opponents of Mr Malthus combated his notion of
checks on moral and religious grounds; and here, cer-
tainly, the natural feelings of mankind greatly favoured
their views. It was held as an impeachment of that sys-
tem of wisdom and benevolence seen throughout all na-
ture, that one of the most powerful tendencies of human
beings should be supposed to require being put under
an absolute arrestment, upon the penalty of its other-
wise leading to misery in the individual, and embarrass-
ment in the community. It was held that the preventive
check, supposing it to be capable of operating without
an increase of immorality, was necessarily attended by
on abridgment of human happiness, in as far as it in-
volved a denial and repression of the domestic affec-
tions. Its cruelty was also partial, for it bore solely
on the poorer classes, to whom celibacy is a greater
hardship than to the rich. And even supposing that
it could be morally carried into effect, so as to keep
down population at a certain level, it wat, after all, an
uncalled-for interference with Divine arrangements,
which, from all analogy, as well at from their practical
effect, might be supposed as having been designed for
good ends. For do we not see that the charge of a
family acts in all well-constituted minds at an incen-
tive to induttryt and can we doubt that equally will a
growing population tend, in ordinair droumttanoet,
to inoreate the industry of a nation 1 Contemplated
thus, the tendency to increase would appear at a
means, in Providence, to stimulate men and nationt to
the utmott poitlble ezertioni for the improTement of
the materiali placed at their command, so that no
faculty of their being might lie watte, and no power of
phyiieal nature remain uwlew- and ana\joyeu. Sup«

616

OHAMBEBffS INFOttfATiON VOB THX FEOPUL

posing khia to b« on* of tiMfla«l cmiim of ika popuU.-
tion prittdple, tho ptoToatiT* chock of tho Mftlthnnsni
muit DoooMuUv »pp«*r u an iotpiout attompt to con>
tMl OM of tho Creator*! moot important dedgnt.

QENEBAL OB8EBVATI0NS.

Such ii an outlino of tho aigumenta which haro boon
adranood on both lidoi of thii important quOttion. It
mutt, we tUnli, bo generally evidont to new and dii-
pamionato inquiron, that there ii lomo truth in the
Tiowa of ImUi partiei, but that tho full and exact truth
bao not boon itatod by either. For arriring at a wund
oonduiion on tho lubject of population, the meant do
not perliaps exiat in the pretont imperfect ttato of ita-
tittioal toienco ; but in the meantime we may present
a few ooniiderationa which have oocurrod to ourtelret.

It appoart to ua to be only an attumption that there
ia ererywhore a tendency to double the population
•Tery twenty-fiTO jroara. We certainly aee that auch
haa boon tho caao in North America; but potaibly this
ia coniiderably owing to temptationt which are pre-
lentod by the state of the country, labour being to ex-
pentiTe m all luch regioni, that a bounty may be taid
to bo put upon the poitetaion of a nuraerout family.
Perhapt the natural tendency ia there drawn into tome-
thine approaching to an unnatural ttato of activity.

AUowing that the increate it no more than what the
natural inolinationt of that people dictate, it it by no
meant clear that all nationt poiseii natural inolina-
tiont in the tame degree. We know that many fea-
turet of human character are manifetted in very diffe-
rent degreea in different nationt; and it it therefore
not unreaaonable to luppose that there are alto national
differancea in thoao feeluga which load to the increase
of the human family. Individualt, it it well known,
at« characterited Tory differently in thii respect. There
are aim obTiout differences in families, the peculiarity
being apparently hereditary. Why, then, may there
not be differencea also in nations! Perliaps the light
to be derived from the history of families and of indi-
Tiduals, has not yet been taken sufficient advantage of
for the illustration of this question. A careful collec-
tion of facta would probably ahow a far greater amount
of natural cautea for the obstruction of population,
and these altogether independent of Mr Malthus's
checks, than philoaophera are at all prepared for.

Tho history of many families of historical note in-
oontestably ahowa that often, with all external advan-
tages, there it turpriaingly little tendency to increate.
The extinct peerage and baronetage of England formt,
it will be recollected, a pretty large book. In that high
tank there it greater longevity, and contequently, it
may be presumed, better health, than in lower gradet ;
yet the line often failt for lack of heirt. To take a few
catea which happen to be familiar to ua : When Oeoige,
fifth Duke of Gordon, died a few yeara ago, it waa
neoeaaary, in order to get an heir for one of hia titlet
destined to heira-male, to go back to the ancestor who
had flourished in the time of the civil war, all the in-
termediate peraont having failed to aend down male
heira, though ntany had had aeveral sons bom to them.
When the main line of the Keith Mareschal family be-
came extinct in 1778, it waa neceatary to go back for a
male repretentative to a collateral line which tprung off
from the main one at the end of the fifteenth century,
although many goodly repretentativea and male cadets
had flourished in the wterval. It it well known that no
repretentative of the royal family of Stuart tince Robert
III., who died in 1406, hat at thia time legitimate male
detoendaiitt. In thort, it would appear that familiet may
exitt in flourithing oircumttanoet for hundredt of yean,
and after all, the male progeny may become extinct, and
the name of the race be in time looked for in vain. The
contrary is, no doubt, often true : for example, the male
progeny of the above-mentioned Soottiah king exiat in
peat numbers, in all conditions of life. But while it
u the lot of some to bo thus multiplied exceedingly, it
it not less true that many individuals leave not one
copy of themselves ; and that even whole clana and
416

tribal^ numeroaa at one ttme, will ultimately dirink;
like ati wihaled river, and diaappear from the land,
and all thia notwithstanding eve^ tufiielency of the
meant neceaaary to a oomlbrtible exiakenoe.

An illustration occurs to ua, to wkieh, we believe,
many of our readera will rea«Uly find parallela within
their own knowledge. A eitiaen of Edinburgh^ who
died about thirty years ago, had aeventeen aont and
daughtert, moit of whom reached maturity. All the
membert of thit tecond generation have ever tinoe been
in comfortable oircumttanoet : tome are now dead; the
rett have patted on to tueh periodt of life that it it not
to be expected that children will hereafter be bom to
any of them. And what it the number of the third
generation of thit family t Only eight, the offspring of
two manriogei. Thut thowing that the progeny of a
tingle pair may look larce at the firtt remove, but
thrmk at the tecond. We may add, that thit family
appeart decidedly marked by much left than the ave-
rage of a tendency to matrimonial life. At facts are
what it here wanted, the writer may be excused for
mentioning a circumttance in hit own family hiatory.
He can trace itt courte with tolerable dearaeii for two
hundred years; and is pretty well attured that, during
the whole of that time, till the generation immediately
preceding himself, no repretentative of the family had
more than one son to transmit itt name and property.
Local antiquaries are familiar with instances of fami-
lieo once numerous in a certain province, but now ex-
tinct. The present writer haa reason to believe that
his own family existed for more than twice the space
of time above-mentioned in one particular place; yet
the county in which that place is situated does not
now contam one person of the name.

Were it even admitted that communities are natu-
rally equal in respect of the inclination and power, it
BtiU remains to be shown that these tend to be equally
manifested in all social circumstances. The readineas
with which the Malthusians have assumed that this is
the case, seems to us highly unphilosophical. .

In dense communities, where all social circumstances
are in the best condition, there are many enjoyments
not known in ruder states of society. It may not merely
be that these enjoyments compensate for the want of
others, but they may absolutely take away or supplant
the inclination for those other enjoyments, so as to
make the ' checks,' as far at they are concerned, a
mere empty name. Following out this line of argu-
ment, supposing it to be sound, we arrive at the con-
clusion, that when a country becomes filled up with
people, it is also in general attended with circum-
stances which moderate the tendency to increase, with-
out that being felt at any hardship.

The noted case of Ireland tends to support this hypo-
thesif. Singularly deficient in the compensatoiy or
rathor preclusive conditions, this country has long been
remarkable for the rapid increase of its population.
The common people, reduced to a degree ot poverty
which admits of no hope, and exposed to a constant
privation of all the ordinary solaces of life, are driven
to matrimony as the only comfort in their power, just
at others in their condition are driven to the use of in-
toxicating liquors. The consequences lead to greater
poverty, and sreater poverty tends to increase the evil ;
and thus will such a system of things go on, until
counteracting agencies are brought into operation.
Such agenciea are now apparently at work in Ireland ;
and however painful and distressing the ordeal, wealth
and its enjoyments will ultimately increase according
to the capabilities of the country and the amount of
industry expended upon their development. Even under
the obttmction of recent vititationt and difficulties,
ciroumttancet are improving, and we mty therefore
hope tpeedily to tee the advance of population in that
country lets of a wonder than it ha* been.

Granting the above arguments to be sound, it follows
that the stationary condition of the population of old
countries ia not neoeesarily to lie supposed to be attended
with either the hardship of restraint or an extraordi-

t>0Otl.LAWS.

DuymoiUkliij. If tiMWMlth and ordinary Mbioementi
of a people in sueh circumiUncM are not in the way
of bung iMMutd, that people may fairly be presumed
tc be ae well off in all necemary respects aa the rapidly-
inoreasiug multitudes of America.

\yher* we see the inhabitants of an old country
rapidly increasing, we must come to one of two conclu-
sions i either that that country is in a flourishing state,
so that there is a kind of bounty put upon children, or
that it is in a state of such wretchedness, that the inter-
course of the seves is the only attainable enjoyment.
With re^rd to Ireland, we presume there can be no
doubt of its liability to pass into the latter category.
But the rapid increase of the English people in the
last forty years will probably be the subject of a
doubt. To d(Btermine this question, it might be in-
quired if the increase of the agricultural pn^ucts and
of the manufacturing industnr of the oountnr has been
in an equal ratio, and if labouring men, skilled and
unskilled, can now obtain for their labour as large a
■hare of the comforts of life as formerly. Notwith-
standing popular declamations to the contrary, we sus-
pect this to be the case, and consequently believe the
increase of population in England to be, upon the
whole, of a healthy and satisfactory description.

POOR-LAWS.

In all stages of society there has ezuted a class em-
phatically termed the Poor, composed of persons who,
but for tne charity of thoir neighbours, would be nearly
or totally destitute, being themselves unable, or all but
unable, to supply their own wants. It is easy to see
how this has been and must be; for, from accidents in
the operation of the natural laws presiding over the
'birth of individuals, some come into the world without
the usual gifts of body and mind required for obtaining
a su£\cient subsistence; the accidents of life deprive
others of the use of their full powers; many reacn an
infirm old age without having laid up a store to help
them over it; the consequences of vice and error — of all
those countless temptations which beset human nature,
and from which no oi.c is altogether safe — leave many
in a helpless state; finally, in the imperfection of all
political institutions, there are circumstances which
press severely upon classes and persons, tending to make
their own efforts for their subsistence insufiicient. The
operation of accidents upon one class of parents, and
the vices and neglect of others, likewise leave many
young and helpless children in a state in which they
would be destitute but for the aid of neighbours. All
of these causes being inherent in human nature and
in society, we may be assured that ' the poor we shall
have with us always,' however it may be possible, by
judicious and humane efforts, to keep their numbers
within comparatively moderate bounds.

In an eany state of society, the relief of the poor is
left to the operation of benevolence amongst indivi-
duals; and the destitute are either succoured by those
locally near them, or go forth to beg relief in a wider
circle. Generally, the efficacy of benevolence for this
end is made the greater, in conseijuence of the succour
«f the poor bein^ set forth as a duty in almost all reli-
gions. In addition to occasional and particular acts of
charity, donations are mode and legacies left for the
purpose of affording a more or less regular and sys-
tematic relief within certain bounds. As society, how-
ever, advances, it is found that the charity of indivi-
duals is either an insufficient means of succouring the
poor, or is attended with certain inconveniences. The
elasses of society becoming more detached from each
other, cases of destitution make appeal, almost exclu-
■irely, to the parties neartst in poverty; while the rich,
and the comparatively rich, are saved from all concern
in the matter, merely because local and social circum-
■tances spare them a personal connection with it. A
relief by nenevolence is found to be oppressive to those
who have kind feelings, while the niggardly and un-

generous escape. A denie •&<*. highly-artifidal itat*
of society rendering it impoenble to iteepwkteh over
particular cases of destitution, the niln affintded is
unavoidably partial and unequal — ^no <me knowing the
real needs of a petitioner, or how far lie is relieved by
others; so that a door is opened fbr the practice of
cross imposture, while the mora modest poor ara pro-
bably the least libetallv treated. It is aU» generally
found that this state of society ii attended with mi in-
crease of the numbers of the poor, rendering individnal
efforts insufficient, and tending to such uiwrders, that
a public provision becomes neoessarr as a matter of
police. A new principle is then evolved from the na-
tural fact of the existence of a poor class — ^namely, thU
the community cannot be safe from imposture, spolia-
tion, the propa^tion of disease, and other kindred evils,
unless it combine to assure itself that no person in the
country uL-til wnnt the necessaries of life.

It u then that states begin to make anrangements
for the regular relief of the poor ; and generally these
arrangements are of a more or less advanced and effi-
cient nature, in proportion to the advanced social con-
dition of the respective countries. In most of the
Catholic states of Europe the system adopted oonnsts
simply in the ministers of relision taking charge of
the voluntary contributions of Uie people, and Mmi-
nistering them to the best of their ability. > In Portu-
gal, Sardinia, Venice, France, Belgium, and some
other countries, the same system exists, excepting only
that the ministers of religion are superseded in theur
charge by officers appointed by the state. We need
scarcely remark that the single fact of the funds being
voluntary, renders it impossible, as to any of these
countries, to be certain that the provision for the poor
is sufficient in amount. In England, Ireland, Prussia,
Bavaria, Wurtemberg, Mecklenberg, Berne, Russia,
Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, the principle is recog-
nised that a compulsory provision ought to be made
to insure that all the members of the community shall
have the means of subsistence. In England, this has
been in operation for nearly three centuries ; but in
most of the other countries enumerated it is of
comparatively recent adoption. In America, all the
states of the Union which are of English origin have,
from . their commencement as colonies, adopted this
principle. In Scotland, laws for a <^ompi^l8ory provision
have existed nearly as long as in England, but have
not, till very recently (1845-46), been carried out into
anything like a general system.

ARRANOEMENTS FOR THE FOOB IN ENOLAND.

Acts respecting the poor in England only made ar-
rangements as to the places in wluch they should beg,
until, in 1536, immediately after the dissolution of
the religious houses, by which the poor had previously
been in a great measure supported, it was found neces-
sary to make an effort to repress the enormous preva-
lence of vagrancy, by enacting that head officers in
parishes, towns, and counties, should take charge of
the impotent poor, and collect alms for their support,
and at the same time use force to compel able-bodied
mendicants to work for their own livelihood. This
and subsequ;;^* acts of a similar character appear in
a great measure to have failed in their object, chiefly
perhaps from the severity of the penalties imposed for
disobedience. In 1572, we find the first trace of com-
pulsory assessment for the poor — a measure then re-
sorted to, apparently, because all other means of col-
lecting money, had proved insufficient.

It was, however, by the famous act 43 Elizabeth, c. 2
(1601), that the basis of the present system of poor-
relief in England was laid. The professed objects of
this law were, * to set the poor to work, to relieve the
lame, impotent, old, and blind, and to put out their
children as apprentices.' To attain these objects, the
inhabitants of everji parish ^ in the country were re-
quired to raise a fund sufficient to maintain their own
poor ; and the administration of this fund was placed
in the hands of parish overseen, under the control of

417

0BA1IBBB8V nnNmiiinoiff ^b tbb nonjL

JuUoM of ih« pNOt. The Iwdlnc mttit of lUi Ml
ina, iti nqniilBg that tho eUtmi of tho ftble-bodicd for
nllof ihottid bo itttifoctod to m tut, to prore that tho
■Uogod want waa not tho looult of an inaolont diipoii-
tion s flMk/irMnt «Mrr (o rteeivt rtUtf onfy on oomN-
MoN Mo! thtf ihotdd work /br it. To mako thii rule
eariain of operation, an act paaied eicht jean after
(7 Jae. I. a 4) ordered the building of Aoiwe* of eor-
rmtUn, to bo prorided with cards, milli, and other
lm|dcmenti, and where the ragrant able-bodied poor
■hoald be let to work. Thia may be considered as the
orMn of the workhouse sjitem in England.

ft is clear, from the statutes of this period, that the
^ef OTil which the leciila<^ure found itself called upon
to consider and proTide for, was the indolent and Ta-
giant disposition of a large section of the people. It
was not, as now, that many men occasionally find a
difficulty in getting work, but that many were unwilling
to work, preferring to wander about the countiy in
idleness. It appears that these vagrants were accus-
tomed to stay only for a short period in one place, and
to flit about to whererer they thought they would be
best supported ; nor can it be doubted that, in lonely

Slaoes, they would not be backward to use means for
trrifying the lieges into contributions for their benefit.
That, in such circumstances, these people would want
•11 moral culture, and be a source of danger to the
community, is of course erident. It required many
▼ears' operation of the law to reduce this evil ; but at
length, about the end of the Serenteenth century, it
leems to have been considerably lessened. The same
dass of persons then beean to prefer the benefits to l>e
obtained through the claim which the law gare them
upon their native parishes, and the eril of vagrancy
waa gradually exchanged for one of another but less
grievous kind — an inclination to a timid and slothful de-
{lendenoe on the relief to be obtuned at one fixed place.
The houses of correction were mainly penal estab-
lishments; and it was not till 1723 that workhouses,
M now understood, were established. An act passed
in that year enabled parishes, either singlv or in union,
to provide themselves with houses wherein to employ
the poor ; and enacted that, in case any person refused
to be relieved in those houses, he should not be entitled
to tuiy other relief. This might be severe upon the real
pauper, but it eflStctually unmasked the voluntary one
and the impostor, and proved a protection to parishes
against the orders of justices, over-liberal of money not
their own. The operation of this law waa so favour-
able to the public, that some began to imagine that
paupers might even become profitable ; and thia was
partly the cause of an act (22 Geo. III. c. 83) in 178?,,
usually called OUberl'i Act, which threw upon guardians
the duty of finding work for the poor near their o«n
residences, and making up what was required for the.r
subsistence out of the poor-rates. The uae of the work •
house as a test of real indigence and inability was thus
in a great measure undone, and all ita benefita in re-
pressing a nauper population lost. Gilbert's Act may
M said to have been the foundation of all the pecu-
niary oppression to the public, and all that demorali-
sation of the lower classes for which the English poor-
laws were latterly so remarkable.

In 1795, the price of wheat, which, at an average of
the three preceding years, was 54s., rose to 74s., and the
condition of tlie labouring-cla s s e s consequently became
one of ooDSiderable privation and hardship. Instead of
temporary measures for getting over a temporary dif-
ficulty, one of a permanent nature was adopted. The
magistrates of Berkshire in that year issued tables,
stating what the wages of a labourer per week ought to
bo, according to the magnitude of his family and the
price of the gallon loaf; directing at the same time the
overseers, and others concerned iii the management of
the poor, to resulate their allowances accordingly. The
minimum weekly wages of an unmarried labourer, sup-
posing the gallon loaf to sell at one shilling, were set
down at 8s. ; when married, and having one child.
Wages were to be at least 6s.; if he hadnve childreD,
518

they wsTC to bo al laalt lU.; if h« had itVMi diildiM,
thn- were io bo ISf. la the evont of tho prloe of the
gallon loaf ridng to Is. 6d., the wages of ta unmarried ~
man were not to be less than 4i. 8d. a week; while the
wages of a married man, with a aingle ehild, wore not to
be less than 8s. 8d.; and those of a married man with
seven children not less than 10s. M. These regulations,
which rembd one of the ignorant legislatioa of the
fourteenth century, were made binding, universal, and
permanent, by an act passed in the ensuing year (86
Geo. III. c. 23). It cannot fkU to be remarked what
a mean opinion of the character of the labouring-cUsasei
of England must have been entertained amongst ti^e
more enlightened men of that day, When It was thus
thought necessary to undertake for them some of the
simplest duties which they owed to themselves, and to
make them everywhere pensionaries upon the public
for a considerable part of their subsistence. As an at-
tempt to secure to a portion of the community the same
supply of food in scarce as in plentiflil years, and conse-
quently to relieve them frote the necessity of those re-
trenchments by which a deficient supply is distributed
over the whole year, and absolute fkmine averted, the act
was Airther liable to be considered as a gross absurdity.
The evils of the legulations themselves were increased
by peculiarities in the administration, by which the
labouring-classes became a means of enabling one class
of nte-payers to carry on a constant warfare against
the pockets of another. The general evils of the poor-
laws were much aggravated by the arrangements with
respect to tettlment; virtually, the labouring-classes
were impriwned in the parishes of their nativity, ot
where some subsequent circumstance, as apprentice-
ship, marriage, and Inheritance, had given them a
claim. Thus the population was distributed, not as
required by the demand for labour, but as certain
accidental circumstances might direct; and accord-
ingly there were often hordes of usehss labourers
at one place, and a great amount of labour without
hands to undertake it in another. * Practically,' says
the Reviewer, whose opinions have been already quoted,
' In a pauperised district, where the labourers' wages
▼ere composed partly of wages and partly of allowance,
t.\e married man had no more free-will as to the pariah
in wbicii he should reside, the master whom he anould
ser/O; o; (he subsistence which he and his family should
rfcelve, than the horse which he drove. In parochial
Janffuage, he belonged to the parish in which he had
his legal settlement.'

There can be no doubt that the condition of the
working-classes in England during the prevalence of
this cyatem was a species of slaveiy. Tb ystem
lasted with little alteration for nearly forty y>. .is; but
long t 'on that time its moral evils, and the enormoua
Increase of expenditure which it demanded, had ex-
cited great alarm, and made England, with regard to
this particular part of its domestic polity, a wonder to
neighbouring nations. The sum raised for poor-rates
in 1776, while the workhouse ^stem of 1723 was
still in operation, was only £1,720,316; In the three
years after the paaalng of Gilbert'a Act (1783-4-5), it
averaged £2,167,749. But the average of 1801-2.3
was £5,348,205; in 1818, a year of scarcity. It reached
the enormous sum of £9,320,440; and even In the fair
seasons of 1830, 31, 32, and 33, It was above eight
millions. This was an increase far exceeding that of
the population, and the more alarming, as It took place
during a period of progressive national prosperity.
Almost everywhere it pressed very severely upon the
property of the country, and in some places had even
caused property to be 'abandoned, the rates exceeding
all that could be derived from the land.

Tho evil being generally felt and acknowledged, a
royal commission was issued In 1882 for inquiring into
it, In order that parliament might apply a remedy.
The following, taken from the second edition of M*Cul-
loch's ' Statistical Account of the British Empire,' is a
condensed summary of the report which this body drew
up, After A CAKful inTeitigatlon conducted throughout

POOR-LAWS.

!**''?'
;|ji

•VtqrpMt «f BngUad ud WklMt— *Thftt whflnrer
the axpttditan ud moit incieaied, there also the in-
duitiy of ilw labourer had proportionally degenerated,
becaoM in mch placet lubiutence from the poor-
tatee wae more eaiily obtained than by labour. That
under luch influence! hie prudence and thriift were
diicarded, becauie the^ could, with the utmoet luo-
ceH, only leoore for him, by present sacrifice of en-
joyment, the same future advantages of which the
parish held out a prospect without the necessity of any
sacrifice save that of independence. That his sobriety
and temperance were thus left without encouragement,
and, on the other hand, exposed to the temptations of
oomparatiTe idleness, and the facilities for the indul-
gence in idleness and intemperance which alwayc ac-
company the growth of pauperism : his rospectability
of demeanour was now useless, as respectability of
diaraoter ceased to be relied on as a means of securing
employment, itself no longer an object of desire. That
in the same proportion as he became independent of
regular industry, did he also become independent or
regardless of the comforts of his home— comforts which
are indispensable to the labourer after a day of toil,
but are rarely sought or valued as a change after a day
■pent in idleness or dissipation.

It wae also observed that, as the habit of pauperism
increased, the standard of subsistence of the labourers
in the district was lowered, the relief never being suf-
ficient of itself to maintain the pauper independent of
iJl work; and yet, by rendering him partially so, con-
stantly tempting him to forego that further portion of
comfort which was attainable only on the comparatively
hard terms of earning it by the sweat of his brow. The
standard of the pauper's subsistence being once lowered,
that of the industrious labourers amongst whom they
lived, and who occasionally felt the efiects of their
competition, fell also. Where the system prevailed of
allowing relief in aid of wages, there the operation was
immediate, as all the labourers were at once pauperised,
being equally exposed to the eflfects of a system which
left all industry, beyond a certain point, without its
reward, and therefore without a visible object. While
these influences were destroying the industry and mo-
ralitv of the able-bodied labourers, the bastardy-law
was holding out encouragement to female unchastity,
in the wa^ of a money allowance for each bastard,
which, by its amount, of itself elevated her condition
in proportion to the number of her spurious o£^ring,
rendering a mother of several bastards better off than
■he would have been as a mother of as many lawful
children, and securing her a dower which usually
tempted, some man to marry her; while the same law,
by subjecting the supposed father to punishment, often
■ubjected him, at the woman's discretion, to the alter-
native of marriage or a jail — the former of which was
generally chosen as the least present evil. Under these
influences female chfwtity had in many districts so
far ceased to be valued as a virtue, that not only the
woman herself, but her parents and her husband
■eemed, where the law had had its full uncontrolled
eflfect, to have become indifferent to it.

The evils of the svstem were not confined to the
paupers, but unhappily extended to all who had to ad-
minister the law. So large a fund as between seven
and eight piillions, administered without any practical
responsibility, naturally tempted the cupidity of the
officers through whose hands it passed. The office of
overseer was therefore generally sought by a class of
■mall farmeit and tradesmen, to whom the office must
have been most burthensome had it been discharged gra-
tuitously as the law provided. It was found uiat the
overseers were usually appdinted, in places where the
•vil had reached a great height, not from the class of the
tubitoHtial Jumsthotderi of the parish, as the statute of
Elizabeth requires, but were usually needy persons, to
Whom the indirect advantages of the office were impoi ■
tant, and who were helped into the office by the eflorts
of persona aimilarly interested, either as tradesmen of
the paiidi, or M owners of the dwellings which the

paupers inhabited, or in other mjt, nor* u neeiren,
directly or indirectly, of the rates, than as rate-payers.
The spirit of the enactment, 45 Geo. III. c. fi4, § 1,
which provides that no contract for the lodging, heen-
ing, or maintaining the poor, jr for taking the benefit
of their work for their better maintenance, biaall be
valid, unless the person with whom it is made shall be
resident within the parish, was fully tiarried out in
practice in nearly the whole of the 15,000 parishes and
places separately maintaining their own pooi^-eveiy
tradesman of the parish, and every employer of la-
bourers, being bribed to maintain whatever system the
vestry adopted, by a share in the profitable supply of
the parish poor, or by the payment of a part of the
wages of his labourers in the shape of relief to them
out of the rates. The refractoiy parishioners were con-
strained to aq<i:c3ce, on pain of losing these and similar
advantages, which, being withdrawn or denied, left to
them only the obligation of paying those rates. To
secure, moreover, the full operation of this system, the
parish was not permitted to deal elsewhere for any
commodity with which any parishionercould supply it,
and was thus usually confined to the worst market for
the goods it purchased, in the same manner as, by the
laws relating to labour, it had been cut off from the
supply of other labourers while any within its own
bounds remained unemployed.

The evidence seems also to prove that the functions
of the magistracy had almost invariably ceased to be
applied to the objects for which they hac;. been created.
The magistrates o'' counties we;e usually too dispersed,
and too little immtrsed in the actual business of the
several parishes, to avail themselves of t!») iwdvantages
which the overseers and the other more immediate ad-
ministrators of the system derived from it. The magis-
trates of corporate boroughs, towns, and cities, were,
however, in many instances found to be not less rapa-
cious or ready to apply the administration of the law
to their pecuniary profit or direct advantage than the
parochial officers. But although the magistracy must
generally be acquitted of having sought to derive an
immediate peciiniary advantage from the administration
of the poor-la ra, they were none the less ready to per-
vert the law to purposes utterly at variance with its
original intention and with the prosperity of the com-
munity. Very mi">y of the magistrates, influenced by
benevolent in <>r ^ions, were ready on all occasions to
admit the clain of the pauper, and to compel ove:seera
to administer relief when they inclined to refuse it :
such ma^'is^ratos were constantly resorted to by paupers
in preference to others who more vigilantly exammed
the grouids of their claims; and a reputation for being
the jooor man's friend was easily earned by the lavish
and immoderate expenditure of the fund of the general
rate-payers. This reputation was found to be useful
in many ways, and was thus sought for political pur-
poses, or for the attainment of local power, or for the
mere gratification of vanity, by many magistrates,
whose sympathy for the pauper would never have been
excited if it had been incapable of being gratified at
the exponse of the rate-payers, When it is cunsidered
that the county magistrates lived for the most part in
the midst of a population of willing paupers, and the
means of annoyance which the latter possessed, if they
found occasion to use it, against an obnoxious person,
is albo borne in mind, it is not to be wondered at that
the mctdstracy generally purchased the good-will of
their neighbours by sacrificing the interests of the rate-
payers, whom they never had personally before them,
and w''j were very inadequately represented by the
overs )er, whose interests were too frequently found to
coinc.de more with the demand of the pauper and the
inclination of the magistrate than with the strict line
of his duty.'

In consequence of the report of the commissioners,
an act was passed in August 1834 (4 and 5 Will. IV.),
usnally called the Poor -Law Amendment Act, by
whi'^h these monsw-ous evils were for the most part
extiuguiahed, and » return made to the just principle*

519

OH^MBiBffS isfGamma»won tbm fioplb.

ud pndiieM difltt.'^> hgr tt* Mta of IMl md UaS.
Both pattiM in *L«<itete>ranM>rt«d «liiia hmhhon u
almtmi ail of fU Broviiiiom» and it wm only oppoied
bjr a fow iBdi«id''.4]i. ! At • proof of tlio paUie feoiing
on tlie mil^oot, »o ptoocat the following nin^eU from
tho two lewUng Roviowo; .^ud kII who Icaoir anything
of politioklpKrmsMkd tlioirooncootioni in thii oountiy,
will be Mftdy to own that no bette.- meani oould be
faUen upon:-^Th«' Bd; iburgh Review ' of March 1831,
after remarking that tho intended benevolence of the
allowance eyetem had proved a 'Utter coim ;' that it
robbed the rate-payer to pay fann-labo>ir, and on-
•laved the labourer, addi, that ' itt oMition i§ Ae im-
ptrtUive tUUff ^ tht UgMtlnre. We eay abolition, for
nothing shoxi of this oan be of any material lervice.'
The ' QdArterly Review ' of Jaiiuanr laSi, after mak-
ing an e ' '3t from the i>art of the Commiuioner*' Re-
pwt drc . up by Mr Chadwick, taya — * It it gratifying
to nt to iind the immediate abolition of the allowance
eyitem here intiited upon to ttrongly. We migUli
have withed-thia laggeition to have teken precedence
of every other, at being bj//ar tht mott importatU and
imdiipmuaih qf my. . . . An improvement in the ma-
uageraent of workhoutet it highly neoetiary. They
tkouid be nuuie place$ of itriot eonfinemtnt and hard
hbow to the abU'bodied, with a moderate diet, and a
total denial f>f all indulgenoee, in order ti render a reai-
deuce within their walin as irkaome and diatasleful as
pornibk, and the latt reeource of thote only who can-
not, by their utmoit exertiont, obtain a maiutenance.'
With regard to the impotent poor, thit act i-ather
increaaed than diminithed the liberality of the arrange-
mentt. while it made teveral other contiderable im-
provementt. The great clats of adult pertont who.
uom old age or infirmity of body, aro wholly unable to
work, were to remain, at before, entitled to a lupport
by meant of out>door allowances. Of deititute children,
thote unlikely, from natural defects, to be able to win
their own bread, were provided for by out-door relief :
thote, on the other hand, who were likely to prove useful
membert of todety, were taken in oharge, and reared
in> teparate ettablithmenta, where their education and
traiiung for induttriou'; callings were particularly cared
for. ' Judicious provisiont were alto made for their
being ultimately iset afloat in the world as apprentices.
With regard to illegitimate children, teveral fomter
provitiout of evil tendency were annulled; and it wat
provided that no regard ahould be paid to them till
they became actually chargeable upon the parish, when
relief should be extended through the mother, the
being in thii respect treated as a widow. Pertont
unable to support themselret through accident, or from
Midden and dangerout illnett, were to ruceive tempo-
rary relief, arid to hare all necessary medical attend-
ance. Insane paupers were to be placed in proper
atylumt at the expense of the public.

The provisiou for able-bodied clainantt formed the
most important part of this aot, at indeed it wat in thit
d«|pMkrtment thai the abutet of Ute old system were the
mMt gluing. The main feature of the new arrange-
nientt waa the erection of workhouses by uniont of
pariihes, where relief should be oSered to able-bodied
olaiouuits, on the condition of their giving their labour
in return, and submitting to the rules of the establish-
ment. Thit wat only a revival of t) e tett iq>plied by
the act of 1723, the object being to check applications
for relief from the skthful, and to throw upon the able-
bodied ia general the duty, which is everywhere else
the lot of free. labourers, of finding er>.ployment for
themtelvet. The new law contemplated that the food
and acoommodationa of tho workhouie fihould be good
and sufficient, but yet not auite to gooci at those which
the free iabouren of the dittriet could obtain by their
own exertiont ; to that it might, upon the whole, be
more agreeable to the ablfa-bodied man tn nork for
himtelf than become chargeable. At tho tame time, it
being acknowledged that a change from one system to
another could not be expected to be luddeuly efiectcd I
without tome degree of hardship, provision wot n>ade '
&30

<br enabling the admtnittetiton of the law to axaieiaa a
hainane ditoNtion in applying the new regulationt.

Some material ohanget were likewite made ia the
n>£3hinery for tho local adminiataation ef the pbw-lawt.
The rate^tayera elect for each union of parithea a boaird
of gnarduutt, eaoh rate-payer having votea in propor-
tion to hit property, and the piooeedinga of thete boardt
were undcT the control of a central board, eompoted
of three oommittionert appointed by the crown. (See
next page.) Under the ciuef oommittionert there were
twelve attittant onet, each of whom had the inflection
of a particular dittrirt.

Gradually, under the oparatioft of the Poor -Law
Amendment Act, the greater part of England has been
formed into uniont (now 692), each under a board of
guardiant, and each provided with a workhoute. In the
firtt year of the new eastern the oommitsioners issued
a general order, prohibiting relief in money to the able-
bodied in the employment of individuals, thus throw-
ing their entire lupport upon their matters. In the ne-
oond year they began, in a oa> .tiout manner, in obedi(.ice
to the tpirit of the aot, to put a ttop to oui-door Mlief
to the able-bodied — meaning labourert who, with iheir
families, ore in health, but excepting widows with young
children. By these means the expenditure upon the
poor wat reduced from £7,511,219 in 1834 to j£4,0< '.,741
in 1837, or almost to ose-half. Since 1837, the e> p^n-
diture hot again been on the rite, and in 1840 i'; v..;i
i^5,110,C83. In 1847, the number of paupers (includ-
ing children) relieved in England wat 1,731,350, or
alMut 1 in 9 of the population. Of theae, 265,037
received in-door relief; 1,456,313 received out-door
relief. The amount received was .'27,117.352 ; of which
£5,298,787 wat expended on the poor, £899,095 on m-
door maintenance, and £8,467,960 on fj^ut-relief. In
1848, the number of paupert (exclusive of children,
who number about 300,000) was 1,626,201; of whom
1,361,061 received out-door, and 265,140 in-door relief,
at a total cost of £6,180,765 !

The first efieots of the stop put to the allowance sys-
tem were most surprising. The so-called surplus popu-
lation — the hordes of unemployed men who had required
to be partially or entirely sustained by the parish funds,
who ha-l been condemned to stand in the parish pound
for days, and spend half their lives in a kind of idle-
ness in :he parish gravel-pi tt — ditappeared at if by
magic. It was found that, 'eft free to leek employment
where it could be had, and furnished with the usual
motivet to exert their industry, they all obtained em-
ployment. On this subject the earlier reports of the
commissioners gave some valuable information, showing
how delusive mutt have been those views which hc!d
forth the population as redundant, and at needful of
artificial tupport. The whole evil teemed to be one of
derangement. Once ditengoged from the traniroels
which confined men to certitin spots of ground, and put
a bounty upon their remaining idle, the people quickly
fell once more into natural arrangements, and there
was an independent tuaintenanco for all. To quote an
able writer in No. ^4 of the ' Edinburgh Review :' —
' When the bonds which confined them to their parishes
were broken, they distributed themselves where their
services were most wanted. When they were allowed
the free disposal of their services, they eudeavouret'. tu
make those services valuable. When the aprlication
of more efficient labour increased the employer's re-
turns, and at the same time reduction of rates dimi-
nished his out-goings, he hod a larger fund for the
purchase of those services. The redundancy vanished
with its causes. The able-bodied pauper is the result
of conventional error and art. He it not the natural
offtpring of the Saxon face. Unleis hit pauperism is
carefully fostered by those who think it their invereat
to preserve it, he rapidly reverts to the normal type —
the independent labourer.'

The union workhouses are in general remarkably
well-arranged establishments. The food, both in qua-
lity and Quantity — the accommodations of all kinds —
the luorat discipline and order, are in general all (hat

POOB-LAWS.

tiM huBiMie and tiie culightened could with. The ar-
rangomente for ibe odaoatiou of the youog are parti-
culaily worthy of commendation. Workhouiet are for
the meet part occupied only by tome portion of the
aged poor, and by young children. Though held open
for the reception of the able-bodied under any exigency
to which they may be pretumedly liable, they are ruely
reaorted to by luch person*, partly because the laboar-
market being freed, there is in general no lack of means
for an independent subsistence, and partly from the
natural dislike to a life of restraint. One regulation of
these houses may be supposed to have operated power-
fully in keeping idle married men at a d i s t ance from
them. In most instances *b.:y are not allowed to live
in the same part of the uouse with their wives. Partly
this was needful for the sake of order, and to avoid
sundry gross evils which flourished under the old sys-
tem. Partly it is owing to a principle laid down bv the
commissioners, tUat a pauper is not entitled to be in
this respect on a level with the man who works inde-
pendently for himself and his family. This regulation
attracted much clamour and vituperation, and perhaps
it would have been better, at least in point of expe-
diency, not to have had it introduced.

The new law has now been in existence for fifteen
years, during which period it has undergone various
minor modifications— chiefly affecting the administra-
tive machinery, the subject of medical relief, the care
of pauper lunatics, tho relief of vaerants, the law of
settlement, the education of pauper children, and other
improvements which the condition of the country, for
the time being, has rendered expedient. The main
alterations which it has undergone are under the pro-
visions of an act (10 and 11 Vict., chkp. 109) passed
17th December 1847. By this act the commissioners
are superseded by a controlling board, consisting of
four members of the government ex (fffieio, and certain
other commissioners appointed by the Queen in council.
The inspectors are also vested with ' more extensive
powers; visitors of workhouses are appointed; annual
TOports are ordered ; and the law compelling the sepa-
ration of man and wife dispensed with after the par-
ties are sixty years of age.

Excellent as the measure has been in its main
features, and though it has redeemed the English
labouring-classes from a kind of slavery, it has been
the subject of an outcry of the most violent chc-acter.
This is partly traceable to those who profited by the
abuses of the old system, partly to an ignorant senti-
roeutalism, and partly to the arts of politicians, who,
by appealing to the prejudices of the masses, make
the subject a handle for their selfi^'i and party pur-
poses. ' If the system has been violently attacked, it
has also been as warmly defended; and in the midst
of so much scrutiny, the disinterested may rest assured
that no very flagrant abuse can be long committed by
those who administer its provisions. "' -luiFered by those
to whom its provisions are administered.

ARBANGEMBNTS OESPECTINa THE POOn IN SCOTLAND.

For a long time there were no poor-laws of any sort
in Scotland. The poor wero left totally unregulated,
and matters became at length insufierable. The whole
country was overrun with hordes of sturdy ruffians, who
lived at free quarters upon the industrious, a farmer
having not u. 'frequently to provide food for a score or
two of able-bodied ' sornem ' in the course of n day.
These vagabonds, often living in incestuous connec-
tions, held routs and revels by thousands in the moun-
tains, and attended punctually at all country fairs,
weddings, and festivals. Legislation on this subject
opened with three acts passed in the reign of James I.
in U24, which conferred a right to beg with ' takinues,'
on the same classes of paupers who subsequently
obtained a right to relief by 1579, c. 74. This last
statute, with a proclamation of the Privy-Council, was,
until lately, the only authority for a compulsory poor-
rate in Scotland. It consisted of two parts : One or-
dained ' strong and idle beggars * to be scourged and

burnt through the «« w'th » hetina; MtdifeMght
agaia at theur vocation after lizty dayi^ to. be pet to
death. Tha Noond eonfnnd a rimt to paroehhtl
relief on oertaia parties, whmn it dw i yw Uod ■• ' agod,
pure, impotent, aad decayed penoM,' * fishUk of nooae-
litienum live bee almes.' Somo mfaMquent acta mad*
proviaion for emploving able-bodied beggan in oom-
mon werki, and ordained the bnilding of corroctioa-
houses, under heavy penalties on tho huigha disobov*
ing; but not a single correotion-houso waa ovir built,
and that part of the law became oboolot*. Tho lait
proclamation of the PrivT- Council, Mareh 8, 1698,
completed the fabric of the old poor-law, which wm
supeneded by the Poor-Law Amendment Act of 1845.
There were many disputes in respect to tho elaiSBO
0^ poor which were vested with an absolute right
to require relief under the old law. Th« general nnwr^
st^^nding was, that the Act 1579 only indu led all who
were permanently disabled irom age, iieknaes, or inflc-
mity from gaining a livelihood by labour, destituto
children under fourteen years of age, insane penona,
and idiots. In practice, also, destituto widows, with
several young children, generally received some imall
modicum of relief; those who were tempontfily deati-
tute or infinu were undentood to have no legal claim
on the parish, but might bo relieved at tho diserotum
of the authorities. Speaking in very general temii, a
setMement was acquired by three years' continuous resi-
dence in a parish. Wives had the settlement of their
husbands; legitimate children of the father, and iUegs-
timate children of the mother. When there waa no other
settlement, recourse was had on the parish of birth.

Where there was a legal assessment, the general par-
pose seems to have been to tax every man in the ratio
of his means. Accordingly, originally the parochial
board stented every individual's proportion according
to their own estimate of his ability; and if he de-
murred, he had to lay bare his whole afiiurs befoio
officials bound to no secrecy. This was so burther«omo,
that a rough-and-ready criterion was adopted wherever
it was possible. In rural parishes, half the assessment
fell on the heritors, according to their real or valued
rents, and half on the other householders, in whoae
case the rent of the houses occupied was gei>.«rally
made the criteiion. In burghal parishes the vuue of
the tenements was the criterion ; and sometimes the
assessment was laid alto{^ther on the tenants, some-
times altogether on the proprietors, and sometimes half
on the one and half on the other. In mixed pari:Hes
the grievous plan of stenting seems to have been con-
tinued. Often, however, the assessment was entirely
voluntary, and in the majority of cases there waa no
assessment at all. Relief was given from the colleo>
tions uX the doors of the parish diurdies, half of whidi
had to be paid into the general fund, tho otit3r half
remaining at the disposal of the kirk-session.

The administrators of this fund were — in burghal
parishes, the magistrates; in landward parishes, the
heritors and kirk-session ; and in the latter, when
vacant, the heritors alone. These bodies had almost
despotic power over the pauper— the mode and exttnt
of relief being in practice at their discretion. The only
:iuthority competent to review their decisions was tho
Court of Session ; and it refused to interfere with tho
amount of relief given, unless it was altogether illu-
sory. On coming into that Court, the pauper, if an
agent of the poor reported that he had a probable cause
of .xtion, was put upon the poor's roll, and had coun-
sel assigned to him. Practically, the parochial boards
could do as it seemed good to them : there was no
central administrative board of any sort.

This state of matters gave rise to great discontent
and many complaints, and ultimately a commission
of inquiry was instituted, whose report filled eight
quarto volumes, and contained a vast amount of
interesting information. This report waa laid before
parliament in May 1844. It presents a very vivid
picture of the state of tho paupers throughout Soot-
land at and previous to that date. Their condition

521

CBAMBlBm ttfOUfAfllOII fOB TH> nOFLS.

tvM matk la 4IW«M |H«kl<M w4 la 4i«nal
Mfta of tte w»iy. !■ Olaifow and mom otbar
bImm thw INN wmpMNliTtly w*ll off ; and •▼«> in
dMrioti whan Mm allowaooia wan wrat^adly in-
adaawattj tWX **** "** "^ ***^'7 miaanbU at thty
BMW 111, wkaai aautdaiad in raftranoa to local oiroum-
rtaiinii aad tke oondilioB of tho indaptndont poor.
Mil Ua oparatiaa of tho law wai far ikom latiifaotoiT.
To taka. tot, tha Edinbaigk parithaa : tha waakljr aJ.
lowanoa to a widow with ona child waa li.; tho toit
hlghirt to a widow with olx ohildian waa 9a., which
waa eoBsidarad oitraordinarjr; to a marriod oouplo tha
iiowaiMa waa at tha utmoat 7i. ed. in aix weaki. The
hatua waa OTorerowdad; thare wai no olaiaiflcation of
tha aaxaa t and tho doatha for five jreara ar^ragod 80
cvat77aaraatof420inmataa. InStCuthbert't,awidow
with two ehildrei raoairad li. a week. In the High-
landa thin'^ «rara much wane. In Shildag in Rmc-
■Uia the gv iX yearly allowance waa Aa. to 6s. : in
Kirkwall, . dow with ehildion reeeiTod 3a. 6d. a
quarter: it jo'^#e, a widow with four diildren re-
eeived fvx>ni 'ii. to 8a. a year; and in Oairlooh, 2a. 6d.
to 8a. a ys&r. Often the whole mm annually dirided
in a panah was two or three pounds, aa in Kilohonan
in Islay. Of course boning was the natural and
naoesaaiy aupplemcnt of ue allowanoe. In many in-
stanoea the pauper made a liTelihood by continually
naming in quest of a settlement that nerer came, and
thie impoatun had become intolerable. Maniacs wen
allowed in general to tort aa they chose, or boarded
in unlioensed and unregulated houses. In short, an
immediate change was necessary, and the commis-
sioners reported to that efibct.

Tha Poor>Law mendment Act was the consequence
of this nport. IM great featan was the creation of a
Beard of SuperTlsion, * to inquin into the management
of the poor in cfeiy parish and bunh of Scotland,' and
to report annually to the Home Office on ererything
eonneeted with the state and management of the poor.
It was to fix tho number and qualification of the
aloeted members of parochial boaras ; dirido pariahea
into warda, and allot to eaoh ita proportion of npreeen-
tatirea ; dismiss inspecton and medical officers ; and
azenise other powen of the most eTtensire kind. The
act sanctioned three modes of acsessment: (1), One-
hM on owners, and the other on tenants or oceupiera
of lands and heritages, ntod aocordinj to the annual
Talua of aueh lands and heritagea ; (2), One-half on
such ownen according to the aame rate, and the other
half on the whole inhabitants according to their means
and substance, other than lands and heritages in Great
Britain and Inland ; and (3), The whole as an equal
per-oentace on the annual value of all lands and heri-
tages, and on the estimated annual income of the whole
inhabitants ftom means and subttanoe, other than lands
and heritages within Oreat Britain and Inland. The
act also sanctioned the continuance of any other mode
of assessment established by local act or usage.

In the OTent of no legal assessment, the old admi-
nistraton wen to nmain. In assessed burffhal pa-
rishes the boards wen to consist of three elements:
(I), Four members sent by the magistrates ; (2), Four
by the kirk>sesf> n ; and (3), Memben elected by the
rate-payers. Ench owner of heritable property under
£20 of annual ralne was to have one Tote; from £20
to £40, two rotes; £40 to £60, three; under £100,
four ; under £500, fire ; abore £500, six. Occupancy
and means and substance wen to entitle to rotes, rising
in number according to the same gradation. Parties
might rote both on ownership and means and substance,
but could not hare mon than six rotes in all. In rural
assessed parishes, the boards wen to consist of four
elements: (1), Ownen of heritable property of the
yearly ralue of £20 and upwards ; (2), Magistntes of
any royal burgh within the parish; (3), Not mon than
aix memben of tke kirk-session ; (4), Memben elected
by ownen of heritage under £20 annual ralue, who an
to hare one rote ; and by tenants and occupants, and
peiions a«e«ed on meaai and mbttaaw, who an alto
6ti

tohaTaMMtvtauador thaoMMaHiiMlTalMtMd to
hare moia rataa aeeeidiof to the mdatioB we hare
already spoolflod. No peiMn was to be rated en means
tiai substaneo under £S0 • year. In 'Assessed parishes,
the whole of the chunh-door oeUaetlons wen left at
the disposal of tho kirk-aa«ions.

On an applioation for relief, the inspeetor was or-
dained to ntum an answer within twenty-four houra.
If the applicant wen entitled to nlief, it was to be
instantly giren, reoourso being retained against his
nlatires, u legally liable, and against the parish of
his settlement when found. On ^Aisal, the sheriff was
to be applied to to enforee Che claim; and he might
alao grant interim relief till the question was decided.
He was not, howerer, to decide in regard to the ade-
quacy of nlief. If then was any complaint of that
kind, the complainant was directed to apply to the
Board of Superrision, who might either nject the com-
plaint, in which caae no other court was competent to
take it up; or approre it by a minute, which had the
efibct of opening the doon of the Court of Session to
the pauper, and putting him on the poor's roll. Irish
and English paupen wen made nraorable, when they
had acquired no settlement in Scotland, by an order of
the sheriff or of two justices, at the expense of tL.. oom-
plaining parish; and if they ntnmed to the same
parish, might be imprisoned with or without hard
labour for not mon than two months. Desertion of
childnn was made punishable by fine or imprisonment
with or without hard labour — payment of the fine to
be enforced br imprisonment. The parock.al funds
might be applied to provide medicines, medical at-
tendance, nutritious diet, cordials, and clothing to the
paupers, and education for the pauper childnn. Boards
might aliso subscribe to public hospitals ler dispensaries,
and might erect poor-nouses when thd population of
the parish or combination of parishes exceeded 5000.

Some time after the passinff of this act, the question
of the right of the able-bodied unemployed and of their
children to parochial nlief was nt at rest. The cases
wen those of the inspecton of the pariah of Gorbals
against William Lindsay, who apnlied for his childnn,
and the inspector of Qlawow pansn against M'William,
who applied for himself The circumstances wen in
the most favr-urable form for the paupers, whose alle-
gations V ' all admitted; and the whole court was
consulted, nuen it was nearly unanimously found that
an able-bodied man, utterly destitute, and unable to
find employment, had no legal claim agunst the pa-
rochial funds, either for his own nlief or that of his
childnn in pupilaritj. Of course parochial boards
might nliere such parties at their discntion.

The Board of Supervision, appointed under this
important act, entered on its duties on the 4th of
September 1846, and gare in its first annual nport in
August 1846. At that date all the parishes had elected
inspecton, and mon or less willingly provided funds.
Reportr wen also presented in August 1847 and
August 1848. A few statistical facts irill show the
working of this statute : —

In the year ending 1st January 1836, the sum ex-
pended on the poor did not eiceed £171,042: in the
year ending 1st February 1846, it amounted to £295,233,
an incnase of £124,190 In ten yean : in the year end-
ing 14th May 1847, it was £483,915; and in the year
ending 14th May 1848, it was £544,334.

The number of poor on the rolls on 1st February
1845 was 63,070, or about 1 in 42 of the population :
on the lat Februaiy 1846, it was 69,432, or about 1 in
88: on the 15th May 1847, it was 74,161, or about 1
in 35'3. The total number of paupen of all sorts re-
liered during that year was 146,370, or about 1 in I7'8
of the population. On 14th May 1848. the number of
poor on the rolls was 77,782, or 1 in 33*7 of the popu-
lation. The total number nliered during that year
WM 227,647, or 1 in 11*61 of the population.

At August 1848, 14 poor-houses, 5 of which were
temponuy, wen in operation in 14 parishes, the popu-
lation of which wai in all UB,7i5, The houses wen

!>OOB«LAWB.

titfM* of aMommodktiDg ai88. Pku lud baan ap. {
proTtd of hj Um Board for 8 now poor.honMf, and 3
•ddilioiM, roprottnting Mcommodation for 9010 moro
pMipon. FiTO othtr puiahoo had roiolTod to oreot
ptrraanont poor-houMO.

Tho wholo ram of £544,834, 7i. 6fd. oipondod in tho
ytar onding 14th May 1848, wao thuo aooonntod for t—
lUliof of poor on the roll, £401,885, 7i. 5d.; eiuual
poor, £58.884. 7i. 7^. ; madioal reliof, £80,889, 12i.
Id.; managomont, £42.088, 18t. 4fi.; litigation, £5710,
fit. lljd. ; pooNhouM buildingi, £10,971, 12i. The
wholo turn deriTod from chureh-door rollectioni was
£14,898, Si. 3d.— of which £8452. 18t. 7|d. wai stated
to hare boon expended for the relief of the poor.

Under the old ijitem, parochial boarda were under
no obligation to tend lunatioi to licenaed aarlumi,
which gare riie to grjia abuaea. I'hat waa altered;
but the Board of Su^.^iriaion waa much hampered by
the want of aoconunodation in the aajrlnma. The total
naml>er of inaane or fatuous panpera in the year ending
May 1848 waa 8480. The Board examined into 2003
oatea where the patienta were not confined; ordered 38
to be immediately remorrd to aome madhouse, and
diapenaed with the remoral of 1960 on the nound of
insufficient aooommodMion, harmlessness, or the like.

At the date of the first report, arrangementa were
in progreaa in Edinbuish, and also in Olaseow, to insti-
tute Industrial Schools for the pauper children, and
at present the rabjeot of pauper education is exciting
more and more attention. In parishes where there are
no magistrates or police commissioners^ thi boards are
appointed to carry out the provisions of the Act 9 and
10 Vict. c. 96. for the removal of nuisances. They had
also important iuties under the Temporary Health
Act; and the legislature manifests a disposition to ren-
fM them bodies of great future -w>rtanoe.

There still remains, howevei. jreat deal of dis-
satisfaction with the woiliing of tke present poor-law ;
and a number of delegates from the various boards
met in Edinburgh lately to discuss the subject. One
topio of complaint was the facility with which Irish
and other paupers, not Scotch, obtained interim relief
and also a permanent settlement. Glasgow and other
towns were grievously burtbened in this way. Some of
the heavily-rated and poorer parishes also were anxions
for a national settlement, and some of them wished
combination with richer neighbouring parishes. In
fine, judging from the present toi -^ and temper of the
country, the existing system is lestined shortly to
undergo very considerable alteration.

ABRANOKMENTB HBBPECTINa THE POOB IN IRBLArn).

In Ireland there was, till a recent period, no sye-
tematic provision for the poor, but the country was by
no means destitute of institutions designed for their
benefit.

Legislative enactments had progressi^ ely, during the
laat century, established countv infirmaries, dispensaries,
lunatic asylums, houses of industry, and receptacles for
destitute mfants and old people; and similar institu-
tions, together with schools, lying-in hospitals, houses
of refuge, and mendicity houses, had been aet on foot
in various places by private benevolence. But while
much waa thus done for the alleviation of temporary and
caraal distress, there waa a mass of mendicancy, and
an amount of (general aufiering from occasional famine
and consequent epidemics, whiui made Ireland singular
among the oountriea of Europe, It was calculated that,
out of a population of between seven and eight millions,
upwards of two millions were in a state not much short
of permanent mendicancy. The great bulk of the people
being an agricultural peasantry, livinff on amall patches
of liukd, and depending mainly on the potato crop, a
fiulure of that product waa attended with wide-spread
miaery, invariably followed up by destructive fevers.
The epidemic of 1817, which was the eitect of the failure
oi' the erop of 1816, afitMsted a million and a-half of
peraona, and carried off 65,000. The people, moreover,
uriag no tvwuice bat their little patchf* of potato

ground, landlords found that ihitf wtio Mpldly loabf
all powar over their property. Daaiwration mad*
the tcnanta ding to their grovnd with a partinaoity
which nothing oould overoome. A common danger hav-
ing united them In one oommon cause, tho forcible ex-
trusion of a tenant was resisted by onO and all, or, if
effected, it was sure to be savagely avenged. Prac-
tically, the tenant was able to remain on the ground

as long aa he choae, without much regard to the pay-
ment of rent, unless his good-will was purchased eithar
by the new tenant or by the landlord. The incon-
v'jniences experienced in consequence of the bulk of the
people being thus always on tne verge of destitution,
and withsut any resource when they reached that point,
had become, in addition to those oi actual raendicaney,
so grievous, that a poor-law began to be contemplated
aa necessary for Ireland; and in 1883 a royal oonunis-
sion was issued for an inquiry into the subject.

In consequence of the report of this body, an act waa
paaaed (1 and 2 Victoria, c. 56) for the introduction
of a modified poor-law into Ireland. In the principal
arrangementa, those adopted in England under the
Foor-Law Amendment Act were followed; and the
general superintepdence was confided to the same
commissioners. * The chief peculiarity of these laws,'
says Iilacculloch. ' is that relief under them is admi-
nistered solely in workhouses; and thus they difier
from the Scotch poor-laws, under which workhouses
have scarcely been made use of at all, except in a few
large towns ; and from the English poor-laws, which
were intended by the leeislature to be a mixed system
of relief to the able-bodied in workhouses, and of relief
to the impotent poor, partly in workhouses and partly
at their own homes. They differ again from the Eng-
lish and Scotch poor-laws in this, that while in Eng-
land all destitute persons have a legal right to relief,
and in Scotland all destitute impotent persons have a
similar right, in Ireland, on the contrary, no individual
was intended to have a legal right to relief; but at the
same time, whether able-bodied or impotent, he may
equally receive relief in workhouses, provided he is
destitute.' Under this law, which has already under-
gone several modifications, the expenditure for the poor
m Ireland for the year ending 1st January 1846 waa
only £316,026, and the numW of paupers receiving
in-door relief, 43,293. By December 1848, partly from
successive failures of the potato crop, and partly from
the unsettled state of the country, the number of in-
door paupers had inci.rwd to 185,825, and the out-
door to 393,421. During that year the sum expended
was £1,855,889— an excess cf more than £200,000 above
the rates collected. To meet this state of matters is
the object of the Rate-in-Aid bill, by which the wholo
country is to be assessed, for the purpose of making up
any deficiencies that may occur withm the poorer and
more heavily-burthened imions.

QKNEIUL OB8BKVATION8.

Poor-laws are, after all, only an expedient for meet-
ing an evil partly inherent in human nature, and
partly the consequence of its erroneous moral and
political condition. Were all bom equally sound, and
were all so instructed a^d so placed socially that each
man realised a reasonable sum for his labour, and was
disposed to make a proper use of his gains, there would
be no need for poor-laws. Such conditions not exist-
ing, this expedient is unavoidably called into use, and
we must not be surprised that, as one designed to meet
great evils, its own operation is attended by less ones.
By far the worst effect of poor-laws is the moral de-
gradation which they produce in those for whose benefit
they are established. The man who has to ask for
public relief to his necessities, loses fh>m that moment
the self-respect on which mudi of his virtue depends.
A fatal lesson is taught him — ^that his wants may be
supplied without his own exertions — and the motive
to an independent and induatrioua course of life ia
greatly shaken, perhapa destroyed. This is itself an
eril of Buch senoua mnenitttde, that it forma with

623

CHAMBBBm uioufAnov foi TBI nopu.

lutiy Ml iampMrkbla ttjaMtm to »U ngUtm ftmrWM

for MUpWI. BMh MM* b* Mid to bM« kMB. till •

Moral pwiod, tb« BublM fMling of BmMmkI on thto
quMtion, ud it otiil i* tlw prodomiMting MittinMnt
of • liu|t portion of Mioioty in tiwt eountnr. It ii nn
oUtction wMoli wo, for our own pnrt, would httn difl>
oulty in oToraoninf, if wo did not mo uound'uo tho
nwiUl offacta wbieli nn inadoqnnte proTiaion for tha
poor worka in tba praMut oondition of aoeitty. Un-

anaatioMblj nothing but n eonaidontion of the bor-
ibla inbumnnitTi nnd tbo aitrama dnngera to tba
oannton waal, which nro inaepnmble from tba n^glaet
or rapulM of paupar alninia, eould azouM tba datorio*
nttion which wo unnroidnbly atfMt in n mnn'i nature,
bjr giring bim tbnt for wbicli be bu not luboured.

Another grent evil ot poor-inwa ia, tbnt tbejr tnke
nwnjr pivt of the ^K.^ of induatnr from thoM who bnTO
legit^ntoljr ncquired them, nnd tteatow them upon the
idli. Induatiy ia bjr tbiamennidiicoamged,niid aloth
nnd improvidence nre in » prpportionnto degrM foa-
tMed. In Englnnd thia had renobed to nn enorwoua
keight, nnd even now the nbatrnotion of aiz milliona
fkom tha gniua of the induatrioui mutt opemto Tonr
■arioualjr. in retarding the progroM of the country. It
ia,bowarer,n tax unnvoidnble in present ciroumitnnoea,
if we would eacape more Mrioua erili.

While n raMonnl>le doubt cnn aMrcely be entortnined
M to tbo proprietor of both auccouring tba belploM nnd
offering n modified proriaion to the nble>bodi -l in n
needful atnte, it muit be equally clear thai tha more
tbnt bnbita of foresight and Mlf>depandence nre pro-
pagated in the oountrir — the more that nil-sustaining
moral influencM are diffuMd through it — we may expect
to BM the lew need for poor-laws. Although there nre
upwtuda of tiiirty-two milliona in savings'-ltanks, nnd
benefit aocietiea nre widely spread, still the great bulk
of the labouring-clnaaM of this country lire irom band
to muuth, without nnr store wlmterer on which to fall
back in the event of sickneu or an occaaional luck of
employment. Thia is n prepoatorous stoto of things.
What is to bo expected of a people, the great bulk of
whom are contented to liro with only a little accident
between them and a state of dependence on private or
publio bounty i Sickness is what all are liable to at
all times; failures of employment take place at fre-
quent intervals everywhere. There surely might be
some better provision Against such ooutiugencies than
a public provision, which makes the recipient u degraded
man for ever. Individuola might be induced, by an
improvement of the moral agencies of the country, to
do mucb for the securing of their own independence;
and tbe remainder of the required provision might per-
haps be obtained by systematic contributions from tbe
labouring-classes towards a c-nimon fund, from which
succour could never be a degradation, seeing that they
bad themselves cmted it. PropoMls of thu kind ore
apt to strike the mind unfavourably, from their being
new; but tbe position at which this country has arrived
is in some degree now, and accordingly coll* for mea-
sures of a di&rent kind from what we are accustomed
to contemplate. Certainly, while only the expedient
of poor-laws is adopted, the community can never be
inqiirod, in all its departments, with that manly and in-
dependent feeling wnvcb is the iuMparable associate of
all the other virtues, and the great distinotion between
the freeman and the slave.

tlFE-ASSURANCE.

Life-oMuionoe, in ito ordinary choraeter, is a means
of securing, by a preeent payment in full, or by an an-
nual payment, a sum to be reoliMd after the deceaM of
tbe part^. It is obvious t^at, to many nersons, tbe hnv-
in|[ this m their power is of great irapv.'tanoe. To none
k It M important as to individuals in the middle walks of
life, who, for tbe proMut, are perhaps able to raaintoin
their IbiniliM in comfort, bat being unable to aceumu-
late A large sari^ua oapitol, cannot be sure that, in the

•vent ef iMr AmMi, tkoM dapeadant on Ihem will net
be thiewra into notm^f. To swdi peneni lift-oMUN
anM preaonta itablf m » leodjr Mid Mtiveaien* mems
ef providing for tkoM in wham thry oM interes t ed.
With a oertoin annual sum laid aeMa ftom a prefosaionol
income, vr from tbo proflti oT tMde, suek a panon can
make sate thntt tbough death out bim off abniptlT,bis
widoiw and children will have Mnelhing to lo6k to,
either for an eutiN maintenance, or to aid in enabling
them to gain on* for tbemsdveoi By tba some mMns
an individual, iioeeeMing on entnUed estate, can make
provision out of ite current rente for thoM younger and
female diildren, who, at bis dMtb, would oteM to be
benefited br it. An individual, alM« incurring a risk
in behalf of another, or having a loige elaim u^ bim
in the form cf debt, can insure upon tbe life of that
perMn suob a sum as would be sure to cover all loss
In ttte event of that parson's sudden death. There are
many otb ir ciroumstanoM in which lifo^assnranoe may
become highly bonefioiiU ; but ite chief utilitv lies in
securing a certain sum to belpleM perK>ns,ii: the event
of the deceaM of tboM on wbom they depend.

The principle on which life-ossuionce mainly rests
is one wbiob It bM been roMrved for modem times to
discover— namely, that while the duration of tbe life of
a single peraon is of all things the moat uneertain, it is
possible to ascertain, with tolerable aecuroey, bow many
of a multititdt of pcreons, of a particular age, will die
within next Tear, how many in the second year, bow
many in the third, and so on. Tbe medium or average
gives what Is called tbe expectation oJ'i\f* for each per-
son of tbe Mt. A certainty, in short, is attained on
this proverbially uncertain subject, when we take a
great number of persons, and consider them with re-
gard to tbe oiroumstances in which thky live. It is
found, for instonee, that of 100,000 pe^Ami, i^ 52,
residing in this eonntiy,the number wbo will die before
another year has elapeed will be about 1621, or ntber
more than one and a-nalf percent. Suppoeing that these
100,000 persons were to associate for the purpoM of
making sure that tbe widows or other heira of all those
who died within a year should have £1000; it would
only be neoessoiy in that caw for each person to con-
tribute as mucb to a common Aind as would make up
£1,521,000, or a thoumnd timw 1521 ; that la to say,
each would have to pay in £15, 4s. 2d. It is clear
that thoM wbo died, or their heirs, would profit to tbe
extent of £984, 15s. lOd. ; but without injury to those
wbo survived, for theM alM had their chance of gaining,
for which it was but fbir that they should pay. This
would be a simple transaction in life-assurance, and may
serve to oonvey an elementoiy idea of what lifo-atsur-
ance is, though in practice the transactions are usually
of a somewhat more ounplicated kind.

An assurance is rarely transacted for a single year.
The object of most is, to pay a certein sum eiMb year,
•s long aa they live, in order that a sum may be realised
at their death. Assurers are also of varioua ages ; tbe
young have tbe expectation of longer life than tbe old.
It therefore becomes proper that they should pay less
than tboM more advanced in life. Indeed there ought
to he a payment appropriate to each particular age ;
and this, accordinely, is the com. Another point calls
for particular consideration. Tbe pajrments being made,
not to dear off one year's claims, but to make good
a sum many years hence, large fUnda become accumu-
lated, and upon tbe improvement of theM much de-
pends. If a high rate of^interett is obtained, the funds
experience a rapid increaM, and the leu payments are
required to effect iusunmoes. If, on tbe contrary, the
interest realised be sm»)l, the insurers require to make
their original payments m much tbe higher.

Life-aMuronce is effected in this oountiy either in
offices established by joint-stock oomponiM, wbo look
to making a profit br tbeir business, or by mutually
assuring societies. The former are shortly called j»«-
prt^ary, and tbe lattor mhAm/ offioM. Offices of the
first kind ore usually held by a Joint-etoek copartnery,
with a loi^ subscribed capital ; and the chiu odvou-

UF&ASBUEiJfGnL

wkioh iktiy bold foiib, U the ample MNiuriiy tot

inu UMMtled bv tba capiul, |uid tba iMJ^
ability of m» ibuebolden. In tbe oaae of • mutiul
oAoo. UwM io onlv, it m»T bo laid, mi Moo ci o ti cn of
eiutooMnt eaob of wbom Ii oonooniod in iaturing bia
noigbbour. In tbio omo, boworer, nil ivrplttwigoi, In-
■toM of going into tbe bnnds of n trading comiMuiy,
nronin tbo proporty of tbo iniuron, and ara liablo to
bo dividod amongst tbim. For a long timo tbe buii>
noM WM oonduotud alnioot ezcluoiTeljr by oompnuioi |
but it wae nt lengtb leen tbat all doiifable Mourity waa
to bo obtainod on tbo aMociation prineiple ; and for
•otne yean tbo oyitem baa been advandng much nioie
mpidly iban the other. In rarioni iaatanoao, oow.
;MUii«o have Kalee of chargee allowing of n parMoip*.*
tion in iturplutagee ; and tbcee are uniiuly called Mirtd
Proprietary and Mutual OfScei.

Taeaiiiting Britiib offices are upwards of 130 in
number, moot of them of recent origu. Tbe oldest is
tbe Amicable of London, establiebed on tbe mutual
principle in 1706. At tbe time when it was set up, no
calculations as to life existed; and tbe oonducturs were
aooordingly obliged for many years to proceed in a
great measure at rant'oun, clarging tba same premiums
or annual payments for all ages under forty-nre ! Tbe
rates obarged by tbe seTeml offices are very various,
but in all oases tiiey have been found as yet sufficient
for tbe risks. In most instances tbe companies divide
large profits, while the mutual offices have realised
equally largo surplusages, wliicb they have divided
amongst the inouren,in proportions according to the
sum assured and tbe duration of the insurance, or
upon some other principle whiob the insurers may
deem preferable. ^

Life-assurance grew up in the last and present cen-
turies amidst such an imperfect knowledge of tbe data
on which it depends, that there is little to be wondered
at in tbe great variety of rates charged by tbe diffisrent
offioesk Ibeso data ore now much better understood)
and it has become possible to arrive at a comparatively
close estimate of what chaiges are really required from
an individual, in order to make good a sum at bis death
for tbe benefit of his survivors. There might be greater
oloseneu still,if the laws of mortality, now so wellasccr.
tained, were alone concerned ; but tbe rate of interest
upon money also enters into the cal<^ulation, and this,
as is '^ell known, is liable to frequent fluctuation. Loose
as the matter thus remains in some measure, enough is
ascertained to admit of an ^proximation be.'ng made
to sometliing like a standard for tbe conduetlug of this
important branch of business.

The rate of mortality and the rate of interest upon
money, are the two principal data on which life-assur-
ance practically depends. We shaU first consider

TUK RATE OF VOBTALIIY.

Tables of mortality are founded on the assumption
that human life is of a certain average endurance; and
by means of them we estimate the nund)er of deatlts
that may be expected among a given number of indi-
viduals, from tbe proportion tbat, baa been observed to
occur among another class similarly circumstanced.

The tables of mortality adopted in this country as
tbe basis of calculation for insurance companies are
Ihrte in number. That known by the name of the
Norllutmptom TabU is tbe oldest now in use. It is
founded upon observations made by the celebrated Dr
Prioe^ of the deaths registered for the population of
one of the parishes of the.town of Northampton, during
the yearabetween 1785 and 1780. This table, it ia now
aeknowledged, ahowa far too high (or n^id) a rate of
mortality, owing partly to no effect having been given
to tbe flttctuatioM in the population of that parish, from
immi{[ratiou and other such causes, and partly to tbe
great unprovement which haa taken place in the value
of life since tbe middle of last century- consequent upon
tbe introduction of vaccination and other improvemmts
in modical science, as well aa in tbe habits and modes
9f livinf <tf tb« people. In 1937 • agiect oommittee of

the House of Commena, appobitod to invaatigale tbto
anli|)ect, reMrtod-~' Tbe •viMnco appears to your com-
nittee to be Hrong and deeisive ift nvonr of tbe use of
tablea wbieh give an expectation of Ufs higher than the
Norlbanptoo. In truth, there is not even a frimm
/«<• ease in their fitvour.'

Tbe OerfWa TM* wae formed, not fma tbe roriator
of buriala among a floating population, but flxmi obaer-
vations of tbe deaths which oeeurred, at eaeh year of
life, among a certain stated number of persona in tbe
town of Carliale. Tbe obaervationa were conduoted by
Dr Heysham, and tbe calculations made in the most
scientific manner by Mr Joshua Milne, author of a
valuable work on annuitiee.

Finallv, the Qavtnmtia Tabhi were compiled ftom
obaervationa on the progreaaive mortality oeeurring
among tbe government annuitants and other selected
classes y diatinguiabing theaexea. They were prepaivd,
under the directions of government, by Mr Finlaison,
actuary to the National Dtitit; and in 1829 were adopted
by parliament as tbe basis upon which their future
calculations should prooeed. Mr Finlaison's reaoanhea
eatablished the fact of the longer duration of female
life. He also observed ' a very extraordinary prolon*
gation of human life ' in the courae of the time over
which !iis inquiries oxtended — so great, ' that tbe dura*
tion of existence now, ab compared with what it was a
century ago, ia as 4 to 3 in round numbers.'

Be^es these three, a table was framed bv Mr Griffith
Daviea from the deaths reported from time to timo
among the members insured in the great Equitable So-
ciety of London, from its commencement in 1763 down
to 1820, which has since been recalculated and continued
down to a later period by Mr Morgan, the actuary to
tbat society. This table is very valuable, as confirminff
tba substantial accuracy of other observations, with
which it veiy nearly corresponds. The relation which
these tablea bear to each ottker may be seen at a glance
from tbe following table, showing the mean expectation
ofli/i at various ages according to each :—

By North-
ampton.

Cnrlule.

By GoTemmcnt

By the expe-
rience of the
London

Malea.

Females.

Mean.

EquitaUo.

83-48

4146

88-89

48-99

41-19

41-67

30-RS

87-M

88-90

40-81

88 86

3812

»•»

S4'tt

88-17

87-87

3837

34-88

S8-A8

81-00

80-17

84-31

8-^-24

SO-93

iSKW

27-61

87-04

81-lS ,

29-07

27-40

SO-81

24-46

•8-78

27-81

28-78

23-87

lT-99

Sl-U

SO-80

24-33

22-38

20-8(

18-88

17-88

17-18

20-79

18-97

i««

ii-n

14-84

14-39

17-8S

18-80

13-01

Independently of the acknowledged deficiency of the
data on which the first-mentioned table is founded, the
mere fact of its differing so much from any other au-
thentic observation is of itself conclusive against -it;
and by parity of reasoning, the close agreement of the
others affords strong presumptive evidence in their
favour, and imparts a high degree of certainty to cal-
onlatitms based upon them. Tne Carlisle Table ncctt-
pies a mean place between the male and female obaer-
vaticna of government, abowing a somewhat shorter
-duration than tbe mean of these. It also coincidea
\ery nearly with the experience of the Equitable So-
ciety. Considering tbat it is thus supported by two
other sets of observations, and tbat the whole three
extend over a period during which life was not so good
as it has since become, the general <n>inion in favour
of tbe safety of tbe Carliale Tablea for life-aaaurance
may be held aa well-founded. Tbia opinion receives
corroboration from the experience , of the Scottiah
Widows' Fund, which extends over the last thirty,
four years. In 1834 the auditor of that society re-
ported, as the result ^r a careful investigation, ' that tbe
expected number of deaths bv the Northampton Table,
whicb ia thetabk of tbe society, ia to the actual num>
her during tba whole progreaa of th« aodety aa 100 to

526

OBAMBIMni DTTOMiMiOII lOA TBI PIOPU.

«7t md Um imMrtiM tf Ito msmM Bimbw hgr tk«
EquitobU •maAtm It lo «k« Mfeml aoahw M 100 to
87.' Wt kftT* MitottooJ Uukl th* MpwiMM* of tiM
SeottUh Widows' Fund iboo 1M4 U tron mora &rour-
»bl« to )ift. If. ihoDf wo won to toko tho wbolo tbirt/-
four vfMis' oiporionoo of tbi* Moioty m » oritoiioD, wo
•bouU eomo to (bo ooncluoion (b»t tbo Equitoblo ox-
|Mri«MM» tbo Corliolo Tkbloo, ond (be Qorornmont mou,
*n) ooBfidoiftbhr witbin tbo Torgo of lofot/, wbilo tbo
Nortb*iB»toii fkbloo uo w fltr from tbo itAndwd of
■todora lifo, M to bo, partioulMrlT witb xogud to tbo
yottBfor oUkH of livei, quito unfit for um.
Wo bATO now to adrort to

TU RATI or IMTIIIBST,

mouing tbo r»to at wbkb tite yoH \y promiumi may
bo oxpoetod to bo Improrod.

Tbu lubjoot is ono whiob dooo not admit of tbo lamo
oortalnty ao tbo otbor, and on wbioh, accordingly,
(boN may bo groat difforonooo of opinion. In 1899,
Mr Finlai«>n writci— * I tako it for granted tbat it
will bo eonsiderod safe onougb to amimo tbat monoy,
in a long ooane of yoaro, will m aooumulato, tbrougb
all fluetuationa, ai to oqual a constant rato of 4 por
cont. ; booauM, in point of fact, monoy bao bitberto
aeeumulatod at 4^ por cent., wbotber wo roolton ftom
1808 or from 1788.' Other writers, again, and among
them Mr Do Morgan, looking cbieflv to the high price
i>f the 3 per cents, of late years, say that not more than
3^ per cent, should be counted on. Practically, the in*
vestments of assuranee oiBces are made on terms much
more faTourable. It appears, Arom the publiahed re-
port of the Edinburgh Life-Assurance Company, dated
December 1838, that for the three preceding years
(1830, 1837, and 1838, when interest was unusually
low), the average rato realised on their funds was
£4, 16s. 6d. per cent. — about 1^ per cent, higher than
the return from the 3 per cents, during the same time.
And this, it i* itated, was obtained without any part
beinc laid out in the purchace of roTorsions— on which,
it is Known, a much higher rate can be got. The ex-
ample of this i.<Sce is quoted n.erely from the ciroum-
stanco of their rt.;^rt napnening to state the precise
return at that period. Other S«>ttish offices are said
to hare obtoined a higher rate. Most of them stoto
that their funds are invested ' about,' ' at,' or ' above,'
5 per cent. Indeed it is not couceivablo that the
offices could make suob large returns to proprietors and
members, in the shape of dividends and bonuses, if they
did not generally improve money at about the rate last
mentioned. From all of these circnmstanoes, it does
not appear likely that calculations for life-assurance, in
which the interest of money is assumed at an average
of four per cml., will, while Britain remains in nearly
ito present condition, prove unsound.

KXAMPLK OP LIPE-AMUBANCB CALOOLATION.

According to the Northampton Tables, out of every
11,830 persons bom alive, there will be 46 living at the
age of 90. From these tobies being ascertained to be
unfavourable to life, this must be understood as not
strictly the case, but it may be adopted for the sake of
illustration. The same tobies make It appear tbat, of the
46, 12 will die in the course of the first year, 10 during
the second, 8 during the third, 7 during the fourth, o
during the fifth, 8 during the sixth, and Ae last remain-
ing life will fail in the coarse of the seventh year It
ill a favourito mode of exemplifying life assurance uM-
culation, to suppose these 46 persons, agfid 90, associsj-
ing for the purpose of assuring £100 to eaeh at death.
Tbev ara supposed to proceed upon the principle of
paying all that is required in one sum at first, thus
forming a fund which is to answer all the demands
which are to be made upon it. In this calculation the
improvement of money has been assumed at 3 per cent.
The object is to asesrtain what sum, by war of present
payment, each it to contribute to the fund, so that it
mny disehaMo £1200 the first year, £1000 the second,
£800 the third, and so on. In order to diMhaiga
5M

»M,atMMs«i<f theftrtt (
yiarjtiw sootstjr mast be <

MOVMWl Wltn \

ISM, at the «MI of M ysar,
■M, at tba end of U yoar,
700, St the tod of «th ynur,
no, at the end of Stk jrsar,
•00, at the end of 6th jrMr,

And In order to dlMtuuve the remaialai L.ISO at tha'
md of the MTMith jrsar, with L.100, dlMouated at I
per cent, tat seven ytm SI

£ a 4,

ilM,4lseoaat«iatl
ptr i«ii, fbr me V II«S 1 •

IMr<litte,|gri^u«, Olt »
MO, ditto, fbrl Mart, 7M *
7M, ditto, tei nut, ni Ik
Me,dltto, fbrsjrtart, 411 (
MO,dHte,ftir«)Ftart, Ml »

i I

In aU £4nil 10 9

This, divided Inr 46, gives £91, ^7s. Od. as the sun
(technically called prtmitm) which eadi person would
need to pay in at tne foundation of the society. And
this sum of £91, 17s. 2d. is the present value of a n.
tiersfon of £100, at the am of 00, aceording to the
Nortbamn».-:n Tables, and tuing intoreet at 8 per sent.
Suppoeing such a society to be oonstltated, and
£4223, 10s. Od. to be paid in by the 46 members, we shall
see how its businsM woald proceed until, at the close
of seven years, death put a period to the account :—

The original oootrlbutlon of hAiiS, lOs. td. beioc
pot out to Intenwt, at the end of tha flnt year
amount! to, £4801 8 t

From which deduct, fcr the twelve Uvea which till
intheoourteoftheyear, .... ijoo o

Fund remaining at the oomaMDcenent of tho —

iccoodyoar, SiiH i

Which, bearlnatoneyear'alntormt, will amount to, £t24« 10 h
From which deduct for the ten Uvea which AtU la

thocouneoftheyear, 1000

Fund nimalnlng at the oonunenoement of tha third .

year, SS4« 1« 8

M^ich, bearing one year'iinterett.wiUamounS to, £nH s i

Prom which deduct for olalmi, • . '^ 800

Fund iiimainlng at the oommenoament of the ■

fourthyear, 1514 8 a

Which, bearing ono year't Interest, will amount to, £10W 10 8

From which deduct for olatana, - ■ 7U0 A

Fund remaining at the oommencament of the fifth — — —

ymr, 800 18 8

Which, bearing one y>«r'R Interest, will amount to, £880 10 S

Fttnn which deduct for olalmi, - 000

Fund remaining at the commencemsnt of the ■

■Istb year, 180 10 1

Whloh, bearing one year'ainterett.wiU amount to, £897 1 R

From which deduct fbr claims, 800

Fund remaining at the oommencement of the — ^—

lerenthyear, 07 1 8

Which, bearing interest, wlU amount to, - - £100
Which wlU exactly discharge the Ust remaining
oUbn, 10

Practically, life-anurance is not effected upon lives
so advanced as '90 vears. It is common to confine
business to ages under 60; and the great bulk of in-
surers are between 27 and 40, the time about which
men in this oonntiy begin to feel the responsibilities
of a family. But the calculations followed for the
various ages are formed exactbr in the above node.
All the persons of a particular age in a life-assurance
society are considered aa a distinct group insuring ench
other. Of those, for instance, at 10 years of age, it is
calculated what proportion will die the first year, what
the second, and so on; and from each the society looks
for such a contribution, present or prospective, as may
make up an aggregate sufficient, with the accumulation
firom compound interest, to pay the sum assured upon
each life m that group. It is quito the same thing to
the society, or, we shall say, to the general interest,
whether the individual insurers pay the whole required
contribution at once, or in a series of annual payments,
which, as the plan convenient for the majority of
people, is that generally adopted.

FOBMATION OP BATES.

According to the principles of whiob we have given
a ili^t outline, oflloet form scalot of rates at whidi

LUE'AMUSAVOI.

4 «. 4,

T
t

15U 8 i

8M 1« 8

a«l 10 5

thtj PiofiMt to do buiDMi. In thtM ntH jtrj otn-
■idanwU diaoMptnoy raiata, for many oontlnna to «al-
onlato moitalitjr according to tha Northampton Tablaa,
wkldii aa alraady ahown, gire tha daoromant of lift too
Ugh; whilo othera proceed upon thoae more reeontly
formed, which are certainly much nearer the truth ;
Mid lome, again, aaiume intereat at only three or three
and a -half per cent., while othera deem four not tee
high. There ia alto an allowance for the eipentea of
butinete to be added to the naked auma requued by a
regard to mortality and inteieat, and here alio the
mmdi of partiee may diifer, tome allowing more and
tome leta on thia aooount.

In moat oaaee the chaigea for life-aaanranee are oou-
tiderably within the rerge of lafety. Hence oompaniea
generally diride good prafltt, and aooietiaa realiao large
turplutagea, whid fall to be divided among tha inaurert,
ia the form of additiont to the aumt ttated in their

pollcUa. ThaaatlwofthavariouaogeaaiBaybe al aaatd
in three gradea ev aeta, of each of whlek we thall give •
flnr esamplea, ondeaTewrlitri ^t the taae tiua, te ihew
how eaeh partieular gnde of okArgea aparataa la the
laallaatloD of pioflta and torpluiagaa.

Bcalee of the flrat or leveal grade we followed aa
vet by eompamtively few eflcea; but the Bvaaber la
Increatfaig. We preanma that they proceed npoa me«
dem tablaa of mortality, and the eipeetatieB of 4
per cent, at an aTerage, aa, with regara to eoe of tha
iollowinc (the Scottiih Provident), we hava batn in-
formed that It fbllowa the government table of aialee,
and oaleulatea upon money being Improvable at the
above-mentioned rate, adding flrom 10 to 15 per oantn
aeoording to age, for eipentea of management, and
aa a guarantee againat anv unfhvourable fluetuatiena
of mortality and mtaraet. We here, aa elaewhert, Unit
ourtelvea to oiBoee of undoubted probity : —

Total Prtmi-

mnabalwatsi

aOandlO.

Ab«(dMii AMunmoe \
Company, - - J

Standard L.Amituioe \
Company, Edln,, -

B«gtU«h Provident In-
■Ututton (mutual), ,

h.\ M 7

1 la i«

1 IS R

L.1 18 1

1 IT e

1 18

t.* a

1 8 11
S 1 A

t.J 7 8

S I
S 8 10

U114 5
8 IT S
1 U 9

US 4 <
8 « 8
8 »

L.8 It I
t 1» 8

i 1 T

L.4 18
S
S I II

L.m T t
181 8 8

The high preraiurai borne by the atocki of the two
above companies, form a tolerably fair evidence (not-
withstanding their having also higher scales) that busi-
ness uan be profitsMy transacted at these rates. It
may likewise be mentioned that the Edinburgh Life-
Assurance Company, which present « a scale nearly the
same in aggregate amount as the above (£133, 48.),

divides 6 per cent, upon ita stock, the £10 sharea of
which stand at £14, lOt. in the market. The Scottiah
Provident waa esUblished in 1837: it hat done a large
amount of business, and its experience at yet tendi to
show that the rates are considerably withm the verge
of safety. The following is a selection of respectable
offices in which tomewhat higher ratea are :harged : —

2.?

Total Premi-

umi between

10 and 60.

Eoonomlo Company, 1
London, - - /

L.1 U 7

L.1 19

L.3 4 3

L,a 10 u

L.3 19 9

L.3 11

L.4 8

L.8 10 3

L.141 11 8

Norwich Union Society,

1 10 6

8 3 8

a 8 10

S 14 10

8 3

8 11

4 8

S 8 8

141 10 4

Guardian (mixed), -

a 1

3 8 4

S 10 7

8 17

3 3

3 14 11

4 8

8 4 8

148 8 8

Scot. Wldowi* Fund : \
Scot Equtt Societies,

a 1

a fi 10

a 11 i

3 17 6

3 S 6

3 18 « 4 8 4

6 4 8

144 11 e

The Economic is a proprietair office, giving three-
fourths of the surplusages or profits to the assured. It
was established in 1823. In 1834 a bonus, amounting
to 16 per cent, on the premiums paid, was declared; and
in 1889 there was a second bonus, amounting to 31 per
cent, on the premiums paid during the preceding five
years. The Norwich Union, in 1816, gave a bonus of
20 per cent, on the amount of premiums deposited by
the members insured previouH to June 1815; a second
boil us of 24 per cent, in 1 823 ; and a third of 25 per cent,
in 1830. The Guardian is a proprietary office, m which
a proportion of profits not stated is given to the assured.
Established in 1821, its first division of profits was made
in 182. i, and a second in 1835, At each period, the
bonuses averaged rather more than 28 per cent, on the
amount of the premiums paid thereon during the pre-
ceding seven yeart. The Scottish Widows' Fund and
Scottish Equitable have both declared large surplusages.
At the division of the first of these highly prosperous
tocietiet in 1825, the policies opened between 1815

(the commencement of the society) and 1820, were de-
clared entitled to 2 per cent, for each year of their cur-
rency. In 1832 the same policies received a further
addition of 3^ per cent.; and at the same time those
opened between 1820 and that time, were ueclared
entitled to additions amounting to 1^ per cent, per
annum. In 1839 a retrospective bonus of 2 per cent,
per annum wat declared on all policiea. The elTeot of
these additions is, that policies for £1000, opened
before 1820, at whatever age, amounted in 1845 to
£1809, 8s. 7d. In 1841 the Scottish Equitable made itt
first division of surplusages, amounting to 2 per cent,
per annum on all policies of above five years' standing:
so that the heirt of a person who insured £1000 in 1881
(the first year of ^he society), would, in the event of hit
deceaae in 1850, realise £1429; and to on in proportion.
A third cless of offices, adopting, like the preceding,
the Northampton Tablet, and generally of old standing,
and acting upon old calculations, present higher scalea
of rates, of which we shall give a few examples; —

Total Pieml-

unubstween

30 and 60.

Globe Company, •
Sun Company \

AmioaUe Soolety \
(London), - - /

L.8 3 7
I :« 11

8 6

L.a 8 1
3 3 6

a S 6

L.S 18 S
3 9 3

S 10 fi

L.3 19 10
a 16 8

3 17

L.3 7 11
3 6

8 S

L.3 17 11
3 17 8

8 IB «

L.4 10 8
4 14 1

4 1« <

L.8 8 4
8 1111

8 18

L.161 S t

184 16 6

185 8 6

527

OHAlOBUra OVOMIATIOII VOB TU nOVLM.

TktN M« ft r»ir oflcM wkkA okftm •till higlMr
!•*•■. Ik* ftMrtgftte jpwmlwnn of lk« London AMur-
ftnot ftnd NiklloMl Ouisod oAom), tun NnMetiroW
£W,Ot,tiH ftnd 'l'i> I*' Tk« London Lib (niutUftO
la tko kigkMt. Ik« HampUo of tk« Mftlo twiag ^ 1 7 1 » 1 8i.

It U eloftr Utftt, if MtaineM can bo trMMMotod by m
oompMir ftt • profit on a loftla of ntM ftmounting in
tko Miwgftto to £im, 7i. 9d. (m in tlio am of th«
AbwoMn Compftnjr), tho lft«t Mt of ntei ougkt to giro
oompftotM rorjr largo profltt, and ■ooietioi equally con-
•idofftblo addition! to poiiniei. Tk« scale of the (ilubo
!• alw tkat of tho Hock and Atlaa, propriotar/ oiUcet
granting a ■bar* of proflta to tbe aMurod. In tho Kuck,
wht(« tbroO'fonrthi of tho proflti aro diTidod, polioiet
oponod in IBM for ill 000, at whattTor ago, won In 1843
iTSOOl, lit. In tho Atlai, which kaa not announced to
tbe public tbe ebaro of profits eatended to tbe assured,
policies for £1000, opened in 1816, ranged iu 1837
from £1388 to £1780, according to age.

The blgb ratee are defeude<l on ramus grounds. A
ooinpany making high charges, and consequsmtiy good
profits, niajr bo supposed to haro more stability than
one making moderate charges; while, of a society pur-
suing bMshiim on the same plan, it may be said that
the overplus baoones a kind of bank deposit, to be
ultimately realised by the depositor. Witii regard to
eomnanies, the defence may or may not be sound, ac-
cording as buiinosa is managed discreetly or otherwise
— and there certainly are offices of that nature, entitled
to the most implicit confidence, although they present
moderate scalsi. The defence is of greater force with
regard to societies; but eren there it is not free from

objections. Thr high-rate societies, proceeding upon
the Northampton Tables, commit aoonstant iqjustloe to
young and middle-aged members in AtTour of the old.
The needloas amplitude of their Ainds tends to oeoasion
a lees careAil use of them in conducting the concern i
there is, for instance, a greater temptation to give
larjite commission to persons, who, as it is said, bring
busineu; a pmctice in no retpect dlflbreat in morality
from that of butchers and ([n>eers who bribe cooks and
butlers to favour thvra witli thoir masters' custom. But
the greatest objection to a noedleesly high Male is, that
it must act as an obstruction to the first step in what
is generally one of tbe most important moral acts of a
lifetime — the effecting of a life-aasucanoe. We would
here be understood to draw a broad distinction between
an unsound low rate and one which is sufltcient to
satisfy a reasonable anxiety for security. Rates much
below the first of the abore three scales would be
decidedly unsafe, taking all likely ooatingencies into
account. On the other hand, it ought certainly to be
possible to triuisact perfectly safe business upon a me-
dium of that scale. Those who, for further caution,
prefer the next scale, must be said to pay highly for it,
if they resort to a company which gires no shara of
profits to the assured: if they become members of a
society, large periodic additions to polioiet will be no
more than tlieir due.

Ill order to convey still more distinct notions respect,
ing rates of life-assurance, wo subjoin a scale of those
which are reauired, exclusire of expense for manage-
ment, upon the Carlisle Tables, taking money variously
at 4 and 3^ per cent. : —

4 per cent,
9t per cent,

t.l 10 4
1 ti> 1

L.I ts 1
1 It 11

L.S 8

its

I..S 7 <
S 9 1

US la «

1 IT 10

L.8 7 t
S » «

I..4 B 8

4 8 «

The rates actually charged by the offlcet which we have
cited, may easily be compared with these. It will be
found tkat the additiout made for maaageinent and the
tecttrity of the concern, even to the 3^ per cent, rate,
are very contiderable. The aggregate of the above
•get at 94 per cant, it £18, I (St. 9d.; that of tbe tame
aMB by the actual rate of the Aberdeen Company is
£31, 4s. lid., or nearly 13) per cent, higher; that of'^the
tameagetby theScottith Widows* Fund is £34, 7s. lid.,
or 394 po' ^"^^^ liigker; while that of the London Amic-
able ia £35, lis., or above 354 P*' <*"^- kigher.

MOKAL DUTT OF LIPE-ASBUiUNCI.

On this subject we add some remarks ttom a paper
in 'ChamlMn't Edinburgh Journal,' No. 373, First
Sieries. They are conveyra in language which is apt to
appear unmeasured to one who has not given the sub-
ject much consideration — but, we believe, only to him.

' Such being the equitable and beneficial principles
on which mutual-assurance societies are established, it
is clear that they present, to men in the enjoyment of
income, but pci s es s ing little property, a most suitable
and lavourable means of providing, in a greater or less
meanire, for the endeared and helpless relatives who
may survive them. That only about 80,000 persons in
tbe United Kingdom [written in 1839] should have
taken advantage of life-amurance, being but 1 in 62 of
the luppoeed number of heads of familiee, turely affordt
a striking view of— shall we eall it the improvidence of
mankind, or ihall we not rather detignate it at their
culpable selflshnest I For what it the predicament of
that man who, for the gratification of hit aflStctiont, sur-
rounds himtelf with a wife and children, and peaoeablv
lives in the enjoyment of these valued blettings, with
the knowledgt tkJU, ere three moments at any time shall
have passed, tka cettation of hit existence mi^ throw
wife and children toMther into a ttate of destitution t
>Vbon the case it fuUy reflcetffd upon, it must certainly

riar •• one of gross selfishnett, notwithttanding that
world bat not been aocuttomed to regard it in that
light. II it unquestionably tho duty of every man to pro-
MS

vide, while he yet lives, for his own : we would say that
it is not more his dutv to pi'ovi<le for their daily bread
during his life, than ft it t« provide, as far as he can,
against their being left |)ennil<!sa in the event of his
death. Indeed between these two duties there is no
essential distinction, for life-assurance makes the one as
much a matter of current expenditure as tbe other.
One part of hit income can be <levoted by a bead of a
family to the necessities of t)ie present; another may be
stored up, by means of life-a.sxunmce, to provide against
the future. And thus he may bo said to do tbe whole
of his duty towanis his family, instead of, as is gene-
rally the case, only doing the half of it.

It may be felt by many that, admitting this duty
in full, income is nevertheless iusufiicient to enable
them to spare even the small sum necessary as an
annual premium for life-assurance. The necessities of
the present are in their case so great, that they do not
see how they can afford it. We believe there can be
no obstacle which is apt to appear more real than this,
where an income is at all limited ; and yet it is easy to
show that no obstacle could be more ideal. It will
readily bo acknowledged by everybodv who has an
income at all, that there must be some who have smaller
incomes. Say, for instance, that any man has £400
per annum : he cannot doubt t!mt there are some who
nave only £350. Now, if these persons live on £350,
why may not he do so too, sparing the odd £50 as a
deposit for life-assurance f In like manner, he who
has £200 may live as men do who have only £175,
and devote the remaining £25 to have a sum assured
upon his life : and so on. It may require an effort
to aocomplisb this; but lit not the object worthy of an
effort t And con any man be held at honest, or any
way good, who will not make tuch an effort, rather
than be alwavt liable to the risk of leaving in beggary
the beings whom he most cherishes on earth, and for
whose support he alone is responsible t '

For a further account of modes of life-assurance, the
reader is referred to the following number on thk
Social EconoMica of thb Inuvstriovs OnnKPs

, pro«Mfllii|r npen
inslMit iqiuiiioe to

AiToar Of th* old.
11 tontl* to oooMlon
ctlng tbo eoncern i
•mpMllon to giro
» a it Mad, bring
ffbml in morality
bo bribo oooki and
it«r*> ouitoin. But

high Mala ii, that
a fint itap in what
nt moral acta of a
nunoo. W« would
llitinotion bttwMii
sh ii luflloitnt to
rity. Hatei much
I icalet would b«
ooutiiigenciM into
ght certainly to be
laineu upon a ine-
ir further caution,
J pay highly for it,
1 glTCf no iharo of
lue meinbon of a
policial will be no

act notioBi reepect-
n a K-ale of thoie
penie for nianage-
ng money rariouily

we would My that

r their daily bread

c, aa far aa he cati,

the event of hit

duties there ii no

makei the one na

re aa the other.

ed by a bead of a

; another may lu

to provide againit

id to do the whole

ad of, aa is gene>

it.

nitting thia duty

iffioient to enable

neceaaary aa an

The neccaaitica of

that they do not

ere there can be

ire real than this,

d yet it ia eaay to

ideal. It will

hIy who haa an

who have anialler

man haa £400

ere are aonie who

ni lire on £350,

be odd £50 aa a

manner, he who

mre only £175,

e a lum aaaured

iiquire an effort

ect worthy of an

honoat, or any

effort, rather

tTing in beggary

n earth, and for

'e-aaaurance, the
number on thk
Obdkf. t.

SOCIAL ECONOMICS OF THE INDUSTRIOUS ORDERS.

It ia Mraly » dtplorable feature in the condition of a
larg* portion of the working-olaaaea in thia country,
that tkay hare little or no prorialon made againat the
nacaeaitiaa which ariae to themaalvea or their familiei
in the event of aickneaa, a failure of employment,
or death. With aoroo thia ii not the caae, but it ia
the caa« with many; and the reault ia, that theae per-
aona havu never more than a thin partition neparating
them from the realma of want and dependence. The
effect which thia la calculated to have need not be
largely iuaiated on, for want and dependence are unU
renally allowed to b« productive of many evila. What
la thara to be eipected iVoni the moral nature of one
who if every now and then obliged, perhapa, to aak for
sratuitoua medicine and medical attendance — to take
bread from a pariah officer or the managera of a charit-
able ittbacriptlon — to truat to the pity of neighboura
whenever anything like an exigency ariaea i^ hia
family — in abort, ia, for the aupply of a great {- t of
hia needa, a atipendiary upon hia fellow-creaturea 1
Theae thinn are evidently irreconcilable with true
manly dignity, with political independence, and with
an upright baMing in any of the relatione of life. TVe
deatitution of auch individuala ia oommiaerated wi. n
it ariaea — every humane peraon, who ia himaelf above
want, feela bound to contribute to ita relief : the claim
from auffering man to him who autfera in the amalleat
degree leaa, ia irreaiatible. Out while it ia allowed that
the need, when it doea exiat, muat and ought to be
jrelieved, all muat likewise aee that, in the effort to
diminiah one immediate and clamant evil, another of
a aerioua nature if introduced. The worliing-man ia
morally deteriorated by ceaaing to be aelf- dependent.
Better, clearly, that tnia portion of the community
ware to place theraaelvea, by efforta of their own,
above all need for auch degrading aid.
' But then the working-claaaea realiae auch amall

fkina, that thev can apare nothing forthia purpoae.'
hia may be aaid ; but it ia at the bea^nly partially
true. A great portion of the working-claaaea do moat
unqueationably, in ordinary timea, realiae enough to
enaole them to apare a little by way of proviaion for
the future. Since many, moat creditably to themaelvea,
make luoh a provision, it may fairly be preaumed that
others, baring the same wagea, oould do so alao if they
were williifg. We may atiu more confidently presume
that when tome with comparatively amall wagea are
able to save, thoae who are better off «>ul . ^"vn alao.
Now it often happens that the labourers r'' '■'n-- akill,
and who are leaat liborally remunerated, ct<<i .' .oute aa
largely to aavinn' banks as their better-paid brethren.
Where thia ia the caae, and the circumatancea of the
men are otherwiae equal, we cannot duubt that the
latter class nriake a leaa economical .spoaal of their
income. Clearly, they have only to imitate the frugal
conduct of the small-wage cla ^s, • j oi-der to have ample
means for m^ing the proviaiona in question. On thia
subject, flrom various cauaea, many erroneous notions
prevul. When practical men are conaulted, wo hear
of an KflSioting number of inatances in which the higher-
waged workmen are considered aa securing little if
any more comfort to their families than the other claaa,
and perhapa not so much. We have heard maatera of
worka declare that their men at 25a. a week did not,
aa a claaa, maintain their houaeholds, or educate their
children, ao well aa thoae who had little more than half
the sum. In a return from th^ Sayirgs' Bank of Dun-
dee, it appeared that, while there was £1189 deposited
by 108 miJe weavers, a claaa whose wages average 8s.
weekly, and £425 by 86 hecklers, a clau whose average
wages ai« 12i_ then was only £637 Atom £6 mechanics,
No. 84.

men whose wages range from 18s. to 80s. Such faet»—
and we believe many of the like nature mif ht be rtadily
adduoed — teem to prove that the workiug-dassas hata
much more in their power for the promotion of their
phyaioal and moral wellbeing than ia generally aup-

Sosed. Admitting fully that many are ground to tba
ust by poverty, we cannot doubt that a nr larger pro-
portion have all but the will to take the proper means
for preserving their social Independence.

We do not profess here to inquire into the primary
cauaea of the unendowed oonoition of the worklug-
claaaoa; but we can readily aee vMrioua immediate ones
— aa intemperance, and bad management of reaources.
The tavern bill of the whole operative class in th«
United Kingdom muat be an enormoua one. Of above
thirty-one milli 'na of gallona of apirita prepared in on*
recent year, and for which twenty milliona of pounds
aterline would b' received, we cannot aaaume leas than
two -thirds to have been consumed by the working-
claaaea. '"^heaa claaaea probably expend in this way
three timet the whole coat of tne religioua eatabliab-
mint of 'le country. In Olaagow, there waa lately a
tavern or spirit-ahop for everv 14 families ; and it was
oalcult ' d that no' 4wer tli.'.n 30,000 of the inbabi-
taiita go to bed d ''ik avery Saturday night. In the
pariah of 8t Davitr < n Dundee, while there wore but
11 bakera' abo^ , \a: :re were 108 for the aale ut' liquora.
In the pariah v. liochwinnoc^ in R«nfrew«hire, three
or fo ^imea more money ir -.'A to be apent in thia
way :'l^;' It required for tht: ,>upport of religion and
edu ation The value of ardent apirita consumed in
the iiari'di of Stevenaton in Ayrahire, with a population
of 8681, exceeded the landed rental by £38'Af. These
are startling facta, telling, if they toll anything, that a
large portion of the eaminga of the working-claaaea is
worse than throvm away. Now, though it ia well, cer-
tainly, to compassionate and relieve the sufferings of
all who need, we cannot but be eoually sensible that
it it proper to tell the plain truto, and say that for
much of this suffering our countrymen have themselves
to blame. There has been of late years a hollow kind
of cajolery practised towards them, discreditable to all
parties, and of a dangerous tendency. We diamiaa thia
entirely, and conceive it to be both paying them a
greater compliment and doing them a greater aervice,
to tell them that the conduct of a large portion of their
claaa ia in many reapecta reprehenaible, and to ahow
them how it might be shaped aomewhat better.

We propoae, therefore, in the preaent abeet to treat
of varioua arrangementa or inatitutiona which have
been deviaed for the benefit of the industrious orders,
with a view to their maintaining their independence,
or avoiding some of the greater evila which beset them.
One of the moat conapicuoualy valuable is

THK savings' bank.

Previous to the commencement of the present cen-
tury, such of the humbler claaaea aa were given to
aaviug had no proper place of deposit for their spare
funda, which they were obliged, tnerefore, to keep in
an unfructiiying hoard in their own poaaesaion, ezpoaed
to the riak of loan, or had to consign to some neighbour,
who, though deemed safe, might turn out to be much
the reverae. At the same time, in the want of a proper
place for the deposit of spare money, thoae why might
save, but did not, lacked one important requisite to
their doing ao. About the beginning of thia century,
it occurred to aome benevolent minda that an important
benefit would be conferred on these classes if there wera
institutions of the character of banks, but on a modeat
scale, in which the poor could deposit the amalleit

529

GHAUBBBCrB INFOBlLkTIOV VOB THS nOPLB.

raut th<7 oould from time to time ipm ewtoin of
boing able to di*wthem forth wh«n they ploHed, with
ttooumulftted inteiMt. Barings' banki— lo namod from
their main obioot— were a^oordingtr establiihed almoit
BimultanwmHX lift Britain^ the Uidt«d StatM, Franoo,
and other eonntriee. They were generally conducted
by' anooiationi of beneroient penoni, who gave the
Mcoritv of their own credit for the accumulated mun*,
and held forth ereiy temptation in the way of liberal
intereit, courtetr, and promptitude in management, to
induce theworking-claMei to rer^rt to them.

For some yean, thie joint -itook but itill prirate
Mcurity wai found to be su^cient for the puipoie;
Imt when it wae undentood that miUions had found
their way into MTingt' banks, it became apparent that
■omething elae waa neoewary in order to maintain the
confidence which had at fint been felt. The gorem-
ment wae therefore induced to frame a variety of ita-
tutei (See article Banks, No. 82) for the better regula-
tion of larinp' banki, and one in particular by which
ita own security was siTcn for the safe keeping of the
deposits. This was done under the guidance of the
best intentions towards the industrious classes, who
^ generally are depositors in saving' banks, and with as
Uttle Interference us possible with private and local
management.* A substantial benefit was at the same
time conferred, by the fixing of a rate of interest some-
what above the average of what could be expected in
a country under the particular circumstances of the
United Kingdom with regard to capital.

By the above-mention«l acts (9 Geo, IV. chap. 92;
3 Will IV. chap. U; 5 and 6 Will. IV. duip. 57: aqfl
7 and 8 Vict. chap. 83), it is directed that w the
funds deposited in National Security Savings' Banks
must be paid into the Bank of England on account of
government, and that the money so invested shall bear
interest at the rate of £3, 58. per cent, per annum,
whatever may be the fiuetuation* in the value, qf the
puUicfwtda dttring the term of investment. Depositors
are thus i^orded the best of all securities — namely,
that of the whole BrittMh nation ; while the National
Savings' Banks are enabled, after paying all charses
upon their establishments, to give a considerably higher
rate of interest than the ordinaiT banks, or even the
greater part of private savings' banks, allow on de-
posits. The highest interest which the law allows the
National Secui}ty Savings' Banks to pay to depositors
is j£3, Os. lOd. per cent, per annum; the difference be-
tween this and the rate allowed on the money invested
by them in government securities being reserved ae a
fund for the payment of the officials of the bankf and
other necessary expenses. The rate of interest which
is at present paid by these banks is £2, 17s. d^d.: and
whatever remains, after defraying all chaiges, is allowed
to accumulate as a surplus fund.

Deposits of from one ihillUtg to thirtf/ pound* may
be received by these banks, but no individual depositor
is allowed to lodee more than £30 in any one year,
endine on the 20th November, nor mote than £150 on
the wEoler when the sum amounts to £200, no interest
is payable. Charitable and provident institutions may
lodge funds to the amount of £100 in a single year,
or £300 in all, principal and interest included; and
friendly societies, whose rules have been duly certified
*>* the acts of parliament relating thereto, are permitted
t«i ueposit the whole of their funds, whatever may b«
their amount. Compound interest is given on the
sums lodged, the interest being added to the prinsipal
at the end of each year in some banks, and the end of
each half-year in others, and intermit afterwards al-
lowed on the whole. Any depositor may zeoeive, on

* Tsrions mles are airpointed b]r the legiilatuie for the bt-
nation and nuuiagenaent of mvinga' banka. An aaaooiattoF. of
penoni desirous of fomiliig ona In any place are enjoined fir«t to
frame a act of ragulatlana for the management, and to luhmit
these to the apprond of a barrister appointed by government,
without whose oortlflcata they cannot enjoy a kjgal status, or
any of tlMadrautagea which the legidature has thought iwoper
to hold out for the ciioon''ag«mettt of snob instttntlani.
*80

demand, the money lodged by him, if it do not amount
to a coBsidaffable sum; and even in that case it will
be returned on a few days' notioe.

The wisest and most effiMtual provisions ate made
for i&suiing tiie proper management of the affitirs of
these banks. Each must have a certain number of
trustees and managers, whose services are performed
gratuitously; then a treasurer, actuary, oaduer, clerks,
&o. — all of whom must give security, by bond, to
such amount as the direetors of' the establishment
may judge sufficient. No portion of the funds invested
in government security can be withdrawn, except on
the authority of an order sUped by several of the trus-
tees and managers. DetaUed rq,orts of the transac-
tions of each bank must be periodically forwarded to
the Commissioners for the Reduction of the National
Debt, and also exhibited to the depofiton at the bank
office. Of oourM government can only be responsible
for f ' 1 amount actually deposited in the Bank of Eng-
land; but the respectability of the locM managers
is sufficient guanmtee for tne safety of the fUnds in
their passage between the depositor and the national
exchequer. To remove from the«ttblio mind all doubt
as to security, and to render the system of savings'
banks still more efficient, we understand that it is the
intention of the legislature shortly to sanction a new
set of regulations, chiefly itffbcting the local manage-
ment and direction.

Under both the old and new systems, savings' banks
have been highly successful in their object, and the
money deposited in them reaches an amount which no
one who regarded the habits of the working-classes
thirty-five years ago could have anticipated. In 1840,
the total sum was nearly £23,000,000; in 1844, up-
wards of £29,000,000; and at ptesent, upwards of
£32,000,000. In 1845, the number of depositors in
England was 846,445; in Wales, 18,231; in Scotland,
81,170; and in Ireland, 95,348 — making in all,
1,041,194. The amount of investments for the same
year was £24,238,748 for England; £531,902 for Wales;
£1,185,545 for Scotland; and £2,858,260 for Ireland—
maJung in all about twenty-nbe n^ons. But this
sum, large as it is, does not embrace the whole amount
of business transacted by savings' banks. During the
same year there were in England belonging to diari-
table societie^lO,171 deposits, amounting to £539,627;
and to friendly societies, 8773 deposits, amounting to
£1,151,891 : in Scotland, 635 charitable sooiety deposits,
yielding £35,891, and 898 belonging to friendly so-
cieties, yielding £57,493 : in Wales^ 220 deposits be-
longing to charitable societies, yielding £13^682^ and
466 to friendly societies, amounting to £72,60b : in
Ireland, 669 deposits belonging to charitable socie-
ti'M, worth £41,798, and 405 to friendly societies,
e<|ual £21,523. In other words, the amount depo-
sited by iudlviduals and charitable and friendly
societies in National Security Savings' Banks at the
end of the year ending 20th November 1845, was
£32,661,924 — a vast amount oertunly to be made
up of such small and heterogeneous savings. The
following table exhibits at » glance the elements of
the investment : —

Depoeitors.

Not, exceeding 420,

80. . . .

100, ...

liO, . . .

900, .. .

Exceeding 300,

liDdlvidaal Depoaltoie,

Charitable Sodetlea, .

friendly Societies, ....

Nombeiof Aeeonnts, .

Friendly Sooiatiea In dlreet aeeoontl
with OommlMlcmenlto reduotian v
<tf National Debt, ... J

OraasTotel,

Number of
Oepoaitors.

597,631
267,609
113,727
S7,924
31,302
8,001

1,041,194

11,685

I 10,041

1,063,980
488

1,068,418

Amonntof
Investments.

£3,851,027
8,247,304
7,815,347
4,563,790
8,633,971
702,980

38,814,455

630,898

1,303,515

30,748,868
1,918,056

83,661,924

SOCIAL BOONOHIOS OF THE INDUBTBIOTTS OBDIBS.

do not femount
At cue it will

ioni itn made
F tlie afikin of
ain number of
ue performed
OMhier, derka,
r, by bond, to
eitablialunent
fundi inreited
kwn, except on
ral of the trui-
of tlie traniac-
ly forwarded to
>f tlie National
iffi at the bank
' be reiponiible
e Bank of Eng.
Uxri managera
if the fUnda in
td the national
mind all doubt
sem of aaTings'
d that it ii the
lanotion a new
local manage-

Amonnt of
InTntmenta.

il
»
17
4
3
I

£3,851,027
8,247,304
7,815,347
4,668,790
8,633,971
702,980

38,814,455

630,898

1,303,515

30,748,868
1,913,956

33,661,934

The Mnd cfpenont who (2qMn«— that ia, their itataa
ai to employment, amount of wagea, locality, age,
aex, and ao forth — ia an important iwint; and here, we
fear, aome diaappointment muat bo felt. We hare
already aeen that the arerage amount of depodta at
Dundee ia little larger amongat workmen of high
than amongat workmen of low wagea. In that town,
out of 464 male weareia in the pariah of St Darid'a,
with wagea arenu^g 8a., 108 were depoaitora, or 1
in 4tS ; of 181 flax - dreiaera, with wagea areraging
12a., 86 were depoaitora, or 1 in A ; of 200 meohanica
with 20a. of arerase wagea, 56 were depoaitora, or 1 in
3^. The Teiy amiul denee in which we tkua aee com-
paratirely good wagea ntTouring the earing principle,
la BUipriilng and lamentable. Another fact of a gene-
nl character ia not leia atriking. In many placea,
of the depoaitora in aarincH* banka, a majority are
femalee. Female aerranti, m almoit all places, form
a oonspicuoua aection. In the Dundee Sarinm' Bank,
there were, aome years ago, 237 accounts in the names
of female serranta (aggregate depoBita, £2285), while
(and this is equally remarlcable) out of the numerous
olasa of factory female workers, only one hr^ an ac-
count. It has also been stated, that ' a few years ago,
in forth, it was found, from its sarings' bank, that
the women of the " Fair City" were laying up for the
men, not the men for the women; that the young me-
chanics had forgot there were such things as want, or
sicknesa, or age.' In the Edinburgh Sarings' Bank,
of the total number of accounta exiating at November
1841, the minority were by females, and generally by
femidea isolated in society, and depending on their own
exertions, as appears from the statements giren in the
adjardnt column, in which the amount of balances and
the arerage amount of each person's balance are also
shown. In the county of Fire, which is well balanced
as to factories, mines, and agriculture, the chief de-
positors are found to be female serranta, handloom
wearers, and cottar; —not the minora, mechanics, or
factory workers, who hare the highest wagea.

In Glasgow the male depoaitora formed a majority;
but here we factonr operatires were comparatirely a
small section, numbering only 1282, while mechanics
and artificers were 6774, notwithstanding the rast
number of persons employed in factories in that city.
The female domestics who deposited in the Glasgow
Sarini^s' Bank were 3862,- and their aggre^te accumula-
tions, £22,378. With regard to this portion of the com-
munity, an interesting met is mentioned in the report
of the Edinburgh Sarings' Bank for 1841. The fire
hundred accounts last opened by female servants in
that bank, presented the anregate sum of £231 3, 28. 7d. ;
but the first fire hundred opened by the same class,
four or fire years before, showed a total of no less than
£111,921, 10s. 4d. We here see, in a striking manner,
how a little fund once begun by a person i) kur^ble
circumstances, tends to accumulate In the course of a
fswyean.

Domestlo awraote,

Biagla woman without desig-'
nation— generally penoni
keeping houM tat a lUher
or other i-eUUre, and hav-
ing no other ooonpatlon,

Haidad women without dMig-]
naiton— generally the wives >
of operatives, )

Minors,

Dreeanaken, milliners, lewen.

Widows, designated simiOy as
snch, . . .

Shopkeepers, lodglng-keepen,
householders,

Female operatives, mill-work-
ets, washers, )

Oovornesses and Ibnuleteaoheis,

MIsoellaneous designations,

B a l a n ces not exceeding Ss. each,

Aocotmts In the names of '
females, ,

No,

3,770

1,804

1,418

386
3SS

141
164

»S

66
38

3,601

Amonnt off

Amaga
Amount.

£ $. d.
48,7t0 18 II

81,040 IS U

31,966 8 S

3,610 10
3,730 1 6

3,413 I
8,898 10 4

1,112 1 II

1,373 19 10
460 9
133 I 8

£ «. d.
IS 3 7

17 » 7

10 6 9
6 10 I

ion 7

17 S I

14 II 9,

11 14 1

10 18 1

10.800 113,338 16 4

Malbs.

Mechanics andoperattvea of all

kinds,
Forteis, chairmen, gardeners,

and town and country la-
bourers.
Teachers, students, clerks,

shopmen, .

Domestic servants, including

public coachmen, waiteis,

and grooms, .
Shopkeepers, .

Soldiem and sailors,
Publloservants-aspostoffice, )

police, excise, ho., . /
HinoTS, .

Miscellaneous designations,
No designation,
Balances not exceeding 38. each.

Amount of
Balances.

Avemge
Amount

Accounts in the names of )

males.
Total in the names

males, as above,
Societies,

names of )

es of fa- 1
e, . J

3,138
097
636

634

339
197

697
183
357

Total aooonnts in operation I
at SOth November 1841, (

8,111

10,860
169

19,130

£ «. If.

31,889 9 7

8,066 II
9,371 10 8

12,534 7

6,587 17 8
3,806 16 II

1,361 3 10

. 3,797 10 II

8,733 11 1

6,731 14 3

lis

£ «. d.

14 18 t

15 7 7
17 10 8

83 9

16 9 7
19 11 4

14 9 10

6 7 8

30 6 9

16 6

86,420 6

113,338 16 4
31,800 14 7

821,659 16 8

It may be of serrioe to many persons in the humbler
walks of life, who are not much acquainted with busi-
ness, to see an example of a sarings' bank account :
the following is one presumed to be formed by a man
named John Smith, whose signature accordingly ap-
pears in the last column, as acknowledging the luma
which he has withdrawn : —

Vo.

SAVINGS' BANK in Account with

Date.

Depoalted and Withdrawn.

1836.
July 10,
August 18, - -

November 23,

DeesntherW, -

1887.
June 19,

I>ee*mbtr 1, -

Received Six Shillings

Received Nine Shillings, -
Interest to November 30,

Paid Five Shillings and Three-Hall^noe,

ReoeivedThlrty'flveShilllngB, -

Received Three Pounds,
Interest to November 30, -

Paid Fire Pounds, Seven Shillings, and
Twopenoe-Haif^ienny,

6
9

J. T. Beeoher.

John Smith.

Oeoigeltoee.
J. T. Beecher.

J(dm Anlth.

10
15

«1

131

cBAUBBun vnroBMkmois rem tbb raana.

It ii of (till STMtn importaow tlut » pmon who
thinki of depodtuw ihould hmn % diitinot idM of the
beneflt he U to deriye in the wftjr of Intentt. The
intemt »t pietent [1840] giren in nringi' banks is at
the rate of j£3> I7i. 9id. per cent.; the difierenoe be>
tween thie and £3, Us., which the ConimiMnonen of the
National Debt allow, being, ai already mentioned, re-
aerred to pay ezpenaet, &c. Thin being the intereit
allowed, anr one may readily reckon how his money
if to fructify, by luppoaing an addition of 0M4hirtff-
fiurth beinc made to it at the end of erer^ year. For
instance, if he deposits 15s,, and lets it he for a year,
he is then entitled to 15s. 5d. It is right that he
should be fully aware that, in respect of interest, he is
better off than the people of the middle and upper
ranks who deposit in common banks; for not only does
he get a higher per-centage than is generally giren by
theee banks, but he has the advantage of compound
inttrest ; that is to say, the interest due to him at the
end of a year ie silently, and without any trouble on
his part, aldded to and considered as a part of the prin-
cipu, on which interest is to be giren in future. Thus
a common bank account and a sarings' bank account,
for the same sum, if left unattended to for a few years,
would in the end come to a very different amount. In
order that no one may be at a loss to calculate the in-
terest he is to receive on a savings'-bank deposit, we
present the annexed table, which shows simple interest
for a year on a variety of sums : —

The following table was formed to show what a certain weekly contribution paid into the Windsor and
Eton Savings' Bftnk would amount to in a certain term of years, interest being at £3, 8s. 5d. per cent. It is a
highly-iustructive table, well worthy of being carefully studied by every individual of the industrious orders : —

iNTBaai* Tabus, at jCI, t7a OJd.

m CaifT.

Principal.

Month of
30 Days.

Tear.

KiB0l(al.

Mbnthof
SODaya

Year.

A ». d.

£ : d.

£ i.d.

£ t. d.

t. d.

£: d.

SO 8

1 s{

Oil 81
14 8
17 9

1 10

I0|

SSIO

8 8

l\n

aois

1 H

1 ^

I 9i

8 IS

8 8

41 8

I u

I 8 10

1 10

Si
4

» 7

46 10

8 8

1 6 101

S S

S Oi

81 }8

8 »

1 9 10}
1 IS 11*

8 Si

siof

«7

8 8i

6 IS

68 8

8IU

1 18 114
I 19

7 10

4 i

67 10

3 U

8 S

4 9

78 IS

8 Bk

S 8 Oi

8 Si

8 H

S 8 »

9 18

8 7i

88 8

8 8 1}

8 9^

88 10

4 U

8 11 Ii

10 10

6 Oi

93 IS

* »

a 14 s'

11 8

..«

6 6

i 8i

8 17 Si

6 11

100

4 9

8 17 9i
SOS}

ISIS

7 4i

104 8

*1U

IS 10

7 9|
8 4

109 10

s n

3 8 8}

U S

114 JS

8 H

3 6 3i

8 8

ISO

If Si

8 9 4*

IS IS

9 1

m 8

8 lU

3 18 4i

16 10

9 6i

130 10

6 a

3 18 4{

17 S

9 ll|
10 4}

138 18

6 Sk

3 18 Si

141

6 Si

4 11 Si

18 18

10}

10 10

146 8

«Ui

4 4 6

19 10

II 8

ISO

7 Ii

4 6 8

One Shilling

and Sixpence

per Weelt.

Two ShiUingB

Three ShillingH

Four Shillings

Fl>>e Shillings

perWeelc.

perWeelt.

per Week.

per W eelc.

t)erWeelc.

£ t. d.

£ 1. d.

£ : d.

£ :d.

I Year, -

S IS 7)

3 19

8 8 44

7 18 34

10 11 14

13 8 10

3 ••• "

8 6 11

8 6

10 14 4

16 I 10

SI 9 8

86 16 6

S *<t *

8 8 I

IS 4 11

16 6 104

S4 10 114

38 IS 04

40 18 7

4 •••

11 1 14

16 18 3

88 8 3

33 8 11

44 8 6

86 10 8

14 I 3

SI 8 8

S8 3 74

48 6 104

S6 9 94
68 19 44

70 IS 04

fi •.. ••

17 « 44

SS 18 9

34 8 I

81 14

86 4 1

80 7 7

30 IS 4

40 16 74

61 7 6

81 17 S

108 6 8

S3 14 S4

3S IS 8

47 9 10

71 7 74
81 14 74

98 4 4

119 8

87 8 10

40 18 S

84 7 84
61 9 104

109 8

136 8 74

30 13 104

46 8 3

9S 8 7

183 6 14

184 8 74

11 »•• ■

34 7 4

61 IS 8

68 17 i

103 9 11

188 I 6

IS ••• -

38 3 Si

87 6 104

76 9 44
84 6 104

114 18 94

48 1 10

63 8

1S6 IS 6

14 •..

46 3 14

69 7 8

93 9 9

139 S4
161 13 94

SO 7 S

7S 13 84

100 18 S

84 14 8

8S 4 I

109 IS Si
118 IS 84

17 •••

89 4

88 19 1

63 16 114

98 18 8

187 19 I

19 •••

68 13 I

103 3 U

137 11 94

so ...

73 IS 84

no IS 64

147 11 8

A prejudice exists in the minds of many working-
people, and is perhaps affected by others, against sav-
ugs' iMUiks, on the ground that, when a man is known
to save, he is the more liable to have his wages reduced
by his master, or to want work when there is anything
like a general fa 'ire of employment. Surely there
can be little founiiuiion in fact for this notion. It is a
general wish amongst masters that their working-people
should save, and inauy endeavour to bring this about
by instituting savings' banks, and actins as managers.
It is felt bv every master, that a workman who has
saved a little, is likely to be a much more steady and
reanectable person tSan one who has not. Indeed, as
it nas been jiiitly observed, a receipt frum a savings'
bank is one of the best certificates of steadinew and
sobriety which a WDrkin|-mau can show. Let it also be
considered that, with a Tittle capital in his posseMion,a
workman stands iu a much more independent position
with regard to his master than he otherwise could do.
We cannot doubt that in these cousideratioDS there is
much more than a counterpoise to the visionary fear of
having wages reduced, or employment withheld, in con-
sequence of pofsessing a bank depotiii.
£99

It would be difficult to over-estimate the importance
of a little private hoard to a working-man. It not only
proTes a succour in the evil day, but it tends to im-
prove his whole moral nature. Wealth has been the
subject of many bitter remarks to both the poet and
the philosopher; but it is aft^r all a greater friend to
virtue than to vice. Often a very smsJI amount of it,
acquired by honest industry, will supply a modest pride
that supports, if it is not in itself, moral efficacy. Doing
well in this small way suggests and leads to doing well
in other wayr. The saver may prove the stay of a
declining pa.int or other friend; he can do a better
duty to his cuildren ; he can contribute to philanthropic
objects which interest and bring out his finest feelings.
It may even happen that, from less to more, and with
no sacrifice of prace of mind, he is eniibled by saving
to rise into a higher grade in society. One of the best
of the immediate effects of saving is, that once fairly
begun, it proves a pnwervative from many extrava-
gancies and vices. Temptations may present them-
selves; but the mind reverts to the fondly -regarded
little hoard in the savings' bank, and they are easily
resisted. Hence, it is generally observed that, once

SOCIAL SCONOHICS OF THE INDUSTRIOtTS OBDEBS.

Yew.

£*. d.
11 81
14 8}

17 »'

1 M
1 3 10
1 « lOi

I 9 m

I H 11*
1 18 lU
1 1»
3 10*
1 S U
S 8 1}

i 11
S 14
8 17
S17
i
8 S
S <
8 «
8 U
8 IS
8 18
4 11
4 4
4 6

«1
«i
4

hilUngg

Veek.

t. a.

3 10

S 0}

s n

i 71

t ptMtloe of nVing hu been comnienced, a great re- 1
Tolution takei place in the character. Irregularitiee
and improper lelf-indulgenoeB dieappear, and tteadi-
neM, fobriety, and reflection take their place.

These riewi are, we feel anui-ed, accordant with gene-
ral experience; but it may neTerthelesa be well to quote
one teitimoinr from a practical quarter in lupport of
them. The following pasaages are from an unpretend-
ing tract, published aeToral years ago^ respecting an
aaxiliaiy to the Govan Savings' Banlt, in Kerr and
Coinpany's Nailery : —

* Three years ago, nearly all the men in this work
Diite seeminely constitutionally and hopelessly afiSicted
with a tpark in the throat, and spent a very lar|^ por-
tion of their wages on ardent spirits to quench it. As
might hare been expected under the circumstances,
botn thfiir persons and dwellings presented standing
proofs of their ruinous habits; and their employer was
fluently annoyed by their suspension of labour to
gratify their vitiated taste, at times when the hurried
execution of orders rendered him most dependent upon
them. However, by the exerc'se of a little kinily feel-
ing toward! them, matters began to assume a more
pleasing aspect. By being regarded and spoken to in
their sober intervals as rationu and accountable beings,
and having exhibited to them the advantages they were
likely to derive from connecting themselves with the
Total Abstinence Society and the Savings' Bank, one
after another was cured of the long-existing malady,
and not only took up a new position among his fellow-
workers, as at once an advocate and an evidence of
temperance and economy, but was enabled to provide
himself and family with household comforts to which
they had previously been strangers. With the view of
cherishing such newly-formed habits, their employer
afforded them the weekly opportunity of husbanding
th-lr spare earnings, by forming among them and con-
ducting a little agency of the National Security Savings'
Bank. The following summary of its transactions will
show both the success of his labours, and the encou-
ragement which the proprietors and managers of other
public works are likely to enjoy in making similar
efforts: — The nailery consists [written in 1842] of
three shops or hearths, each accommodating four work-
men. Anxong the twelve persons employed in these
(hops, and two junior members of one of their families,
there are nine open accounts; the number of deposits
has been 351, and the amount deposited, including
interest, £61, 158. lOd. The number of repayments
has been 31, and the amount repaid £36, lis. 9d., so
that the balance due at the 20th November 1841, upon
the nine open accounts, is £25, 48. Id., or about £2, 16b.
— a small average, certainly, in comparison with that
of aome other trades, but presenting a pleasing contrast
to the situation in which matters stood at the com-
mencement of the agency, when scarcely one of the
workmen could, on a Wednesday or Thursday, muster
a sixpence of his previous week's earnings. One obser-
vation must yet be made ; they are now itot only more
indeptndetU and com/orfabk, bat stand much higher in
the eetintMion of their employert.'

THE FBIENDLY SOCIBTV.

Savings, instead of being stored up in a bank, to be
there constantly at command, may be disposed by a
working-man in a well-constituted friendly society, as
a means of insuring for himself certain contingent and
fixed benefits. Friendly societies generally embrace
Hveral objects, as the securing of a weekly sum during
sickness, and a pnsion after a certain age. They are
based on the principle of mutual insurance (see Life-
AsHVRANCE, No. 83); that is to sav, members make
payments, either at once or in small periodical sums,
and thus constitute a fund, out of which such as happen
to fall Mck or to survive a certain ase, are supplied,
the uncertainty attached to all individual '^ncems
beins lost in the certainty which attends calculations
involving great numbers. In some respects, and for
•ome caMf, joining a friendly society may be better

than becoming a depositor in a savings' bank. Sick-
ness may come before the savings are considerable; or,
if considerable, they may be melted away by a long-
continued sickness; but after the first weekly payment
is made to a friendly society, the member is secure of
succour, however long his illness may continue, besides
perhaps other advantages. It is possilde, on the other
hand, that a difficulty may be experienced, in certain
circumstances, in keeping up the weeklpr or other pay-
ments required to secure the benefits of friendly societies.
Here, however, it may be said, there is no more than
the usual uncertainty attached to all things. Assuredly,
the arrangement of a rightly-constituted friendly society
furnishes a very considerable degree of security against
some of the uncertainties of life.

It is to be regretted, of this excellent class of insti*
tutions, that many of them are founded upon erroneous
principles, or rather upon no principles at all; and it
often happens, therefore, that those who trust to them
are disappointed, the funds falling short before all
claims are satisfied. This was at one time not to be
wondered at, as no proper calculations for friendly
societies existed ; but such is no longer the case, for
sound calculations are now attainable. Nevertheless,
there is still a considerable number of obscure societies
scattered throughout the country, proceeding altogether
at random, and by which the industrious classes ai-e
induced to loiaspend large sums. We trust that what
we have now to state will be of some service in pro-
moting the establishmc"^ cf nound societies, and putting
an end to such as are o. Cerent kind.

One great mistake ' ' ' brmation of friendly so-
cieties is to assume thL mu member should pay an
equal sum, whatever hi .^e may be. This is tinjust;
for the younger members have a less chance of becoming
burthensorae to the funds than the middle-aged ; and,
indeed, there is a rising scale of probability of sickness
throughout all the years of a roan's life. The Highland
Society found that, between twenty and thirty, men are
liable at an average to be half a week indisposed per
annum. Between thirty and forty, the average was
about two-thirds of a week. At forty-six, it became a
full week; at fift^-seveu, two weeks; at seventy eleven
weeks. The society, from taking unsuitable grounds
for their calculations, made out the probabilities of
sickness too low. In the following table, three set of
calculations are given, as to the proportion of sick out
of one hundred at particular intervals of age : —

Agea.

HigUand
Society.

English

Benefit

Sooietiee.

Mr Edwards'

Theoretical

Table.

20 to 30
30... 40
40... 50
SO... 60

1-14
1-32
1-97
8-60

IS4
1-83
2-M
4-33

1-72
£30
3-10
451

The difference in the three columns is here of little
consequence. They at least agree in representing tn-
create of years as attended by increased liability to sick-
ness. Now a rightly -constituted friendly society is
bound to advert to this circumstance. To admit' all
ages at an equal payment, is clearly making the younger
members pay for the elder, who should have entered at
an earlier age, and been paying all along.

Another great error in the constitution of benefit
societies is in making them for a year only. Many of
the old friendly societies having ended in disappoint-
ment, in consequence of want of right calculations,
or bad management, or peculation of the funds, the
working-classes have contracted the notion that there
is more safety in a yearly term. The immediate pav-
menta are also less than in a well-constituted friendly
society. Yearly societies, as they are called, usually
originate with some individual, often the keeper of a
tavern, who advertises that a society will be formed in
his house on a particular day. Applicants for admis-
sion pay one shilling as entry-money, which goes into
the pocket of the originator of the scheme, by way of

588

fWAMimwrs moBiufioM fOB fn nana.

nnt. TIm lA^acHt «n gaMnOljr thiMfold— namely, •
tani for ■inlmiii wd Amanl atpnuMi, » dspodt fund,
•ad ft lofta bftak. Tomuda tilt flnt, tk«n ii pwhftpt
ft wmUjt pamMnI of twopttoa, or moi* if m eetift i y,
togathor witk ihe intanal ftiiring from tiia loan of
aumay to tha mambeia. Towftnu tiia dapoait fund,
tiwra ia ft pjiymant mnging genamlly from aixpanoe to
two ahillinga, tha ftooummmona bains raoaivad back
whan tha aodatj doaaa. Tha moner dopoaitad ia am-
nloysd in making loaaa to auch of tha mambota aa
daaLra iuoh ftocummodfttion within tha ftmount of thair
aaratftl entire dapoaita for the Tear, one penny par
pound per month balnc charged by wav of intereat.
Tlia aurnlua, if any, of the twopenoea and intereat, after
aick and f.^erftl money, boon, and other neceaaariea
are naid, ia diridad amongat thoaa memben who may
be olear of the booka at th > 'oae of the aociety. Some
auch aocietiea are formed uy a apontaneoua ataooia-
tion of paraona, who pief-^^r lei ting a room for their
meetinga, and tlkua eaoap» the tp^ptationa of a tavern ;
but none of them aroid th.' en ^la of an equality of pay>
menta for ail agea, ind ^e yearly diaiolution. The
youth of fifteen, who i« not liable to half a week'a aick-
neaa per annum, paya aa much aa the man of fifty-aeren,
who u liable to two weeka. Should aiokneaa befall any
one towarda the close of the year, he ia left, when the
aooiety diaaolTea, quite unproTided for, becauie he can-
not enter another aociety in a atftte of aickneas. Con-
aidered aa ft depoait for aftTinga, tha yearly aooiety ia
atrikingly inferior to the aannga' bank, in aa far as the
depositor cannot take out moner without paying an
exorbitant rate of intereat. Finally, theae aocietiea are
gMieially under the care of obacure peraona, who can
give no aecurity for the funda placed in theb handa,
and who in many inatancea become bankrupt or ab-
Bcond before the final reckoning. Yearly aocietiea are,
indeed, in eveiy point of view, a moat objectionable
olaaa of inatitutiona, to which working people would
never "?aort but for their ignorance and unwarineaa,
and the temptationa held out to allure them.

A well-oonatituted friendly aooiety inrolrea, in the
firat place, the principle of paymenta appropriate to
particular agea, aa no other pUm can be conaidned equi-
table. It atanda forth before the working-dftaaea aa ft
permftneut inatitution, like the liA-aaauranoe aocietiea
of the middle and u^per claaaea, and neceaaarily requirea
ita membera to conaider the connection they form with
it aa an enduring one, because ita grand um ia expreaaly
to make proviaion at one period of life for contingenciea
which may ariae at another— youth, in abort, to endow
old age. By a yearly aodety, a man ia left at lait no
better than ne waa at firat, aa far aa that societv ia con-
cerned; but the proper friendly aociety contemplates his
enjoying a comfortable and independent old age, from
the resmts of his own well-bestowed eatninga.

It ia alao eaaential to the charactbr of a proper bene-
fit aooiety, that individuala be not admitted indiscri-
minately. To take in a peraon in bad health or of
broken conatitution, ia uniust to those members who are
healthy, becauae he ia obviously more likely to bo a
•peedy burthen to the funda. Here, aa in life-aaaurance
Bodetiea,'it ia neoeaaaiy to admit membera only upon
ft ahowing that they are of aound conatitution and in
the enjoyment of good health. And it may be well to
grant no benefits until after the member has been a
year in the aodety. By theae meana men are induced
to enter when they are hale and wall, instead of post-
poning the step until they have a preaaing need for
aaai at anoe, when their endeavour to nt into a benefit
Godety beoomea little elae thftn ft frftud.

Government haa thought proper to interfere with iw
i^d in the formation of friendly aodetiea, though not
oompulsorily. An aaaociation of persons forming one,
haa the meana of aaoertaining the aoundnesa of ita prin-
dplea, and alao entitlea itaelf to depont taadn in aavingi'
banka, with the government aecurity and at no>' leaa
than £S, Oa. lOd. per cent, per annum, by submitting
the proposed mlea to the bairiater appointed to certify
tikam, to whom a fee of a guinea ia payable. Under the

aaaotion of govammaat, tablea have bean tonati by a

1 easily i

quite inexonaabla to prooeed up<»i random and unau-
tnenticated data. Before quoting any of theae tablea,
we ahall endeavour to explftin how th^ ftra formed.

We hftve ftn ideft of ft Deneflt aodety in ita simplest
form, if we auppoae ft hundred men, of exftotly 88 yean
of age, to aaaociate, and make auch a payment at first
as may be sure to afiTord each man that ahall fall sidt
during tiie ensuing year one ahillinr a day during the
term of hia aickneaa. Taking (foi tne aako of illustra-
tion) the Scottish Tables, we find that, amongst such a
body of men, there will be about 66 weeks of illness in
the course of the year. Thia, multiplied by 7, givea the
whole oum required, £23, 2a., or a little more than
4ii. fid. eftch, which, leaa by ft email aum for interest, will
accordingly be the entry-money of eaoh man. A aodety
of individuala of different agea, each paying th(. aum
which would in like manner be found proper to hia ase,
would be quite aa aound in prindple aa one on tite
above aimple scheme. It ia only a atep further to
equaliae eadi man'a annual payments ov« the whole
period during which he undeitakea to be a pftyiog
member.

We ahall auppoae that the superannuation allowance
or pension is contemplated aa commencing at 60 years
of age. It is necessary to consult tables of mortality,
in order to ascertain how many may be expected to
reach that age, and how Ions each of these haa a chance
of surviving it. Having uready treated of tablea of
mortality (see the article on LiPK-AaacaANCE, No. 88),
we shall not say much on this subject. The table pre-
sented by the Highland Society, aa pra|Mr for friendly
aodetiea, is a mean of the Northampton^ Carliale, and
Swedish Tables, and may be re^'arded aa tolerably safe
for both life-assurance and annu'ty schemea. It ahowa
that, of 1005 persons of 21 years cf age, no fewer than
528 reach the age of 60, 836 that of 70, and 127 that
of 80; thus making ii evident hew abt%tfd it i* for a
workmg-man to Mnk that he heu an extremdy tmall
ohanee of growing old, so a* to need a provition.

Another point for consideration is the rate ftt which
the funds of the society may be improved. In moat
casea, we believe, it ia best for such sodeties to rest
oontoit with taking advantage of the privilege which
they enjoy by act of parliament, of dei>ositing their
money in the funds or the savings' banks, in which case
they are sure to obtain for it interest at a rate of not
less than £3, Os. lOd. per cent, per annum.

Proceeding upon theae or nearly aimikr grounds of
calculation, Mr Finlaiaon formed the table which is
given at the top of the next page, to ahow in one sum
(and also in an equivalent monthly contribution, to
cease at the age of 65) the value of an allowance of
four ahillings per week during dckneaa, from and after
each age untu 65: combined with an allowance or
pens! n of two ahillinga per week, commencing pay-
ment at the age of 65; and further combined with a
payment/ of four pounda whenever the death of the
purchaaer should happen : — '

We would here aSl particular attention to a poiut
of view in which savings' banka and friendly sodeties
might be regarded as favourable to each other. It will
be obaerved that, for the aum of about thirteen pounds,
at the age of thirty-four, a man can insure himself
against absolute want under all future contingencies
except deficient employme'i':. Now, at that age, a pru-
dent and careful man, who has begun early to fluent
the savings' bank, mi^r without difficulty have saved
thirteen pounds. Let him draw his *' irteen jMunds
from the savings' bank, and place it w..a the friendly
sodety, and he is all bet an independent man for life.
Thia ia a ooorae highly worthy of the attention of

* See • Instniotiona for the ErtabUshment of Friendly Soote-
tlet.' Printed by W. aowes and Sons, London, tat her ISti^y'i
Stationery Office. 1830.

t^%y:i. ,.v

BOOtAL EOON OmOS OV TBI INDUSTBI01TS OBOEBS.

IS
16
17
18
1»

SO
U
S>

S8
U

iS
S7
S8
i»

88
84

Total valoaia

tmOrUaoaf

of tbe three

Beneflta.

£ f. a.

8 9 II

8 11 84

8 14 e

8 17

.!i

» 4 6

9 6 S

9 IS 71

8 17 1
10 1

10 6 8
10 18 U

10 16 111
n 8 4}

11 7 HI

11 13 9)
11 19 11

18 6 H
t 18 11

.8 19 10|

EqaiTilent

Monthly

Ocotribuuon

eaMlii(*»;tha

AgiottS.

£ I.

101

111

1 1*

Tott'Ttlncln
n*^ Money
ofthettiNe

86
87
88
18

40
41
48
48
44

46
47

68
M

Equiralest

Monthly

OontrllmUaa

oeMliigattb*

Age of 60,

£ I. d.
IS 7 U
18 14 Ot
14 I 8}
14 8 Hi

14 17 U

15 8|
18 14 4
18 8 4|

16 8 11,-

17 8

17 18

18 S

18 17

19 10
80 4

50 19 6j

51 IS 11
SS 18

S8 18 Ol
34 13 HI

£ I. d.

1 8k

1 7

I 71

1 8|

1 10
1 11
8 Ok
S U
S »i

S Bk
8 7
8 9i

5 11|
8 S|

8 fi|

8 9i

4 2

4 7

6 1

Total Tiloa In

na(hrMoii«y

of the throe

Beneflta.

SS
06

S7
08
09

60
61

68
«»
64

66
66
67

70
71

78
73
74
76

BDolTakat

JfoDtUy

Contributiaa

oeaiiacattlM

Age of 66.

f. a.

S9 IS
81 8

16 9k
19 71
4 »I

88 IS 10

84 10 0(
86 7
88 8

40 IS 6}

48 8 9}

41 17 91
40 7 9
88 18 H

37 10

36 8 01

34 17 0|

33 10 111

38 S l}
80 19 6}
S9 13 8

£ «.
S

domestic seiraDti, who in the latter years of life are bo
often exposed to want.*

The scheme of a right friendly society may be farther
illustrated by the actual arrangements of one of ap-
prored character, which happens to be well known to
us. We allude to the Edinburgh School of Arts'
Friendly Society, established about twenty years ago.
This society, although originating with certain of uie
members of, and friends to the School of Arts (a species
of mechanics' institution), and taking its name, is not
otherwise connected with that institution, but is open
to all persons, male and female, re«<.ding in Edinburgh.
It has three separate fuD<*; ur schemes — namely, a
8i(^tei» Fund, Deferred Annuity Fund, and a Life As-
turance Fund. One share of the sickness fund entitles
the member during sickness to lOs. a week for 52 weeks,
7s. 6d. a week for other 52 weeks, and 5s. a week for
all future period of sickness until the age of 60 or 65,
according to the age of superannuation fixed at entiy;

■•■ Friendly societies and Bavlnge' banks sometimes appear as
riral institutioi s, and their nspeotive merits have been keenly
sanTaued. Bnfh h::,vc :?rtainly their peculiar advantages.
'.Iiere is r^iaoh in tlie oonsciouK:<ess of having a small Itmd
stored up, and in the power of employing it fw any partioolar
purpose at pleasure ; but it oaonot be doubted that a reeerre
fund is a less efficient protection against contingettoies, such as
sickness, and death itself, than connection with a sound
friendly society. The difference is like that between taking
one's risk of loss from flie, and paying into on inauranoe office.
* 'Whenerer there is a contingency, the cheapest way of pro.
Tiding against it is by uniting with ethers, so that each man
may subject himself to a small deprivation, in order that no
man may be snljected to a great loes. He upon whom tlie con-
tingency does not fiUl, does not get bis money back again , nor
does he get it for any visible or tangible benefit ; but he obtains
security against ruin, and consequent peace of mind. He upon
Whom the contingency does foil, gets all that those whom fbr-
tnne haa exempted from it have lost in hard money, and is thus
enabled to sustain rm erent whioh in all probability would other-
wise overwhelm bkn.

The individual depositor, not the contributor to a common fbnd,
is really the speculator. If no sickness attacks him during his
yearr of strength and activity, and he dUt before he is past btbour,
he has been succoesiUl inhla speculation; but if he lUl sick at an
early period, or if he Uve to old age, be is a great loser; fiv his
savings, with their acci imn lat i o n s, will support him but a short
time in sickness ; or even if he retain something in old ago, after
bavlDC provided fw his oeoaakmal illness, the annuity which he
can. then purchase will be very inftrlor indeed to that whioh he
would have obtained, if he had entitled himself to tbe benefit of
the accumulated savings of all those who, having contributed fbr
many ysars to a Nparananatlan fhnd, had never reached an age
to require it.'— Jtq«r( (/OHiMiiMee Ml ifWoHtty <8»de(<er, IBSS.

and thereafter his contributions cease, and he enters
to the ei^jo^ent of the Deferred Annuity Fund, one
share of which entitles the member to an annuity of
£S a year, commencing at the age of 60 or 65, as fixed
at his entry. One share of the Li/i Aiturance Fund
is a sum of £10 payable at the member's death. In
this case, as in the others, the contributions cease at
the age of 60 or 65.

The rates are calculated fyom the Highland SocietT's
sickness table, increased by 50 per cent., which in this
case may be considered as sufficient (seeing that only
sound healthy men are admitted), and a mortality tabl?
compounded of the Northampton, Carlisle, and Swedish,
assuming the rate of interest at 4 per cent, accumulated
yearly; and the only charges fbr management are
28 "(1. entrr-money to each fund, and Is. a year pay-
able by each member of each fund.

Tl:<) life-assurance fund of «his societT stands apart
from the other two, and may be entered mdependently.
Its table being the only one we are acquainted with,
wliich presents the advantages of life-assurance to the
humbler classes, we extract it. It is to be observed
that females are admissible at one-fiixth less charges.
Half-a-crowu of entry-money is charg<)d.

I. — Itfe-AiturttHoc Fund.

Contributions cease at 60.

Age.

Single

Annual

First

Other

Payment.

I^yment.

Month.

Months.

£ t. d.

(. d.

f. d.

5. d.

8 18 10

3 4

8 4 7^
3 10 6l

3 11

1 8

8 .

104

3 17 3

4 4 7A
4 18 0|

1 3

8 9

1 6

S 8 8

18 64

1 84

1 fl

Contributions cease at 66,

Ago.

19
SS
30
JS
40
46
SO

Single
Payment.

£ t. d.

5 18 10
8 4 7i
8 10
8 17
4 4
4 13

6 8

Annual
Payment.

8
8
4
6
6
7
S 11'

d.
8

First
Month.

Other
Months.

$. d.

Htf

oaAnaonM iiinv'*acino« lOB nsi nam.'

.^ ... :BaM anil annuItT ftmdi km MMntUIW oob-
BMtwi, Hid aim iMm ftr tb«m an lubjoinad. It » to
be nraarkt.'d, th»t two, thtM, or foar ihuw boat b«
taker m ali of thete Ainda Towards the annuity rand
ftmaift ' pw onr-fouri)! <mI«/ v) mal, in ooniideration of
tWr iiree being lo much betu r than thoie of men.

II.— iSli(dlm«*.( Fund.
OOBtribntlooa and Beai>"U ocaie at 60.

*f-

Single

Annuel

FInt

Other

Fermoit

Payment.

Munth.

Monthii.

£ ,. d.

£ t. d.

t. d.

(. d.

10 « JO

one

1 S

10 13 S

ois iS

1 »i

11 «4

It .1

1 c

1 8

11 8 8

Id ;!

1 «

1 t

U M ,

18 I

8 S

1 6

Jl 17 10

1 1 ii

8 H

1 in

10 18 Cj

1 « 7

S »

s .•

Cantribi'tloni end Benefl>« oeaae at 6S.

Single

Annual

first

Oviiui-

Payirent

Payiixnt

Month.

Mrat^ .>.

£«.(<.

£ «. (1.

i. d.

(. d.

11 3 10

13 4

1 i

. ss

11 1» 7

IS llA

8 0>

1 1

»IS 9

15 »

8 •:

1 s

IS IS 9

<i l8 U

1 7A

1 6

u If H

J 1 t|

8 l|

1 9

41i

. 15 ;,j i

i S »

3 10

3 1

1' I 7i

1 11 1

.: «

8 7

iTcntilbi.vioiis >x«se at 60. ,

Age.

8ini»!L

Annii 1

First

Other

Paynii-.it.

IS'ajmiitit.

Month.

Months.

* ». A

£*.«{.

(. d.

». d.

7 !5

8 4

10 10 li

IS s 4

18 8

1 8

17 8

1 10

1 8

' 5a

17 8 S

1 4 74

8 74

■^'''

98 14 1

I 1« 1

3 1

89 17 3

8 M 9

4 lU

4 8

. w

39 M 74

4 1« 11

8 11

Contributiou cnaie at <&

Single

Annual

Ftmt

Other

Ag*

Payment.

Month.

Monthc

£ : d.

£ ». d.

«. d.

(. d.

4 8 6

4 104

1 84

9 19 lU
7 IS III

9 6

1 3

9 18 11

IS 3

1 3

1 1

18 19 3

18 94

1 7 lUl

3 3^

1 6

17 114

3 14

3 3

«0

33 14 9

3 3 11

4 6

3 7

The following if an example of the payments required
for one thttn in all the three funds — namely,

FaymenU to oeaie at 60.

Age.

Annual
Payment.

Monthly
Payment

89
30
39

£ I. d.
1 10 9
1 17 S
3 6 3

£ I. d.
3 64
3 14
3 114

Payments to oeaie at 69.

Age.

Annual
Payment.

Monthly
Payment

30
• 38

£ $. d.

1 8 9

1 10 74

1 17 8

£ 1. d.
3 3

3 «4

8 li

So that a person of the age of 2t, fat an aBtfy-monev
of 7s. 6d., and a payment of 2f. 3d. a mon^ until the
age of 6&— or £1, 5s. Sd. a year— may seeue an allow-
ance of 10s. a week during sidmcss for 62 weeks; 7s.
6d. a week for other 62 weeks; and 6s. a week during
the whole remaining period of siekness until the age
of 66, an annuity ofjeu a year during life after 66, and
a sum of £10 at death.

For 4i. 4d. a month, or £3, lis. 6d. a year, a person
mav obtain double of these allowances.

At an examination of the society's tiausaotions uid
funds in De^mber 18(0, {t, was found that, after
twelre year* of bUiila'HM. mUjii the deaths of unfree
members, or ]\ci«oii!) wlio 'i>o.! in 'J',% first year of
memberahh.i, w«ru ) -'Inrted, <ihe mc tn-jty was within
that alloweil fn- ih- itiMaa; »i^ i.o Jt'.9l»» good the ■: i« 'a. ' which it
Wttt liable, i»S: lit I hp v».o oi : 'i fti', i-- - iiitributions
w.ix taken v-iv Accouot bga'iist the -'M.: of the pro-
mi£()(l beiiefits.

Foi those wi>:> Cad occasion to go deeper into the
subiect af friendly societies, wit]« a viev to founding
such institutions, we would recommend a crureful per-
usal of the work wbfnh Mr Charles Aitie!' nrepared for
tlu: Society for the Diffusioi; nf C's< 'ul KC'>irledge, and
wbhlt wup ;'jbli«hed by tbat s<'0t8^y in 1836. Much
benrifit ni\fi}it alivjbe d'^rivect frou. Va Villiam Eraser's
pa)>^.i-a o'l Friendly '■joci^i' «, puUi'hed in Professor
JansysoJi s 'PhiloscpMcal J m: al' in iO;27.

VU.-i LOAN SOCIEIT.

The modem history of Scotland has prored that ad-
vances of money to persons of the trading class, made
by the banks under prudent cautions i^ith respect to
security, and the personal character of the borrowers,
have a beneficial efiect, supplying materials on whicti
industry may work, and at once enabling many indivi-
duals to Dirive, and giving a powerful impulse to the
country >u large. The well -cultivated face of our
northern rraiou bears powerful testimony to this fact.
The institutiin called a Loan Society contemplates the
same benefits to be conferred on a humbler portion of
the trading claM than those who resort to banks. By
makinff small u'lvances to such persons, it enables them
to make little ventures in business which they could
not otherwise have attempted, and often sends them
forward upon a career which leads to their permanent
advancement ia life. The purchase of a cow or horse,
of farm or mechanical implements, the discharge of
rent, and the fitting out of a child for service or ap-
prenticeship, are amongst the chief objects for which
such loans are desired in the humbler walks of life.
One might at first sisht dread the efl^ects of such anti-
cipations of income; out, practically, the loan system,
when rightly conducted, works well, and is productive
of much good. ' A loan fund,' tava a late writer, * is
a savingt' bank reversed, and even leads to the savings'
bank, if well managed. For instance, I have before
me now the case of a man who, though he has a family,
is able to put by at least one shilling weekly. I might
have urged him for ever to do. so, but it would have
been to no purpose. He came to me to borrow 30s.
from the loan fund to buy com to fiUten his pi^ ; he
paid back this regularly at the rate of one shilling
a week; and at the end of thirty weeks I said to him,
" Now, you have been owing me money, and have felt
no inconvenience in paying it back ; why should you
not begin to make me owe youf* He had nothing to

say to this, and is now a regular depositor in the

Savings' Bank through my oands.' *

LoMi societies are noi institutions of yestnday; but,
until a recent period, there wer^ none upon an equit-
able or philanthropic footing. Government, sensible
of the erroneous principles on which they were gene-
rally conducted, obtained an act in 1836 for their tetter
regulation. By this statute certain benefits were held

* * Prai|)ect« and Present Condition of the Labouring-ClaMes.'
Hy a BeniiUced Clergyman. T. and W. Boone, London.

SOCIAL EOOKOMICS Of THE INDT7BTBIOT7B OBDER&

out to luoh loan looietiei m ihould bo formed upop.
pricoiplei approved of by a reviling barriitsr, and
enroUad in conformity with the proviuon of the act
for benefit looietlet. The principal benefit! oflered
were eiemption from atamp-'iuty, and certain powen
for recovery of loam. EnroU-Hl loan Moieties were for-
bidden bv thia act to make loam of above fifteen poundi,
or to make in any instance a second loan until the first
should be paid off. A scheme of rules for a loan so-
ciety conformable to law is presented in the pamphlet
quoted below.*

It seems here necessary to state, in the most explicit
terms, that loan societies formed by interested indi-
viduals, are entitled to no confidence, being almost uni-
versally usurious and oppressive in their modes of deal-
ing, and a source of great misery to the poor. There
are upwards of two hundred loan societies in London,
and almost without exception they are of the same cha-
racter as pawnbroking establishments.f On this subject
we quote the following 'massages from a valuable com-
munication which appeared iu the 'Timen' newspaper: —
' They eenetally originate with a knot of small trades-
men, who, having a surplus over the demands of their
immediate business, find iu them a profitable employ-
ment of V '^ir money. A capital of £500 has been known
to start sucv a society — the paid-up capital eventually
to be £2000, in shares of £5 each. It is very rare that
the whole of the capital is at once paid down. Their
rules in the outset describe the name and the constitu-
tion of the society; then follow the terms on which the
shareholders have taken their shares, and the manner
in which they are to receive a return for embarking
money, which is the allowance of 4 per cent, interest
per annum on the amount of subscription, while the
balance of profit afterwards accruing is to be declared
as a dividend. There are separate rules which apply
to the borrowers from the society, which are called the
" borrowers' rules." The general place of business is
a public-house ; some few, but very few, are carried
on in offices hired for the purpose. The borrower
has in the first instance to call on the secretary,
director, or treasurer, all of whom are allowed to sell
(at a profit) what are termed " application papers,"
and purchase one (they are either 2d. or 3d. each),
fill in the amount of the loau he requires, and leave
it with the name of one or two sureties, according to
the amount, for the inspection of the directors. He
calls again, and has to pay Is. for his security being
inquired into, which goes into the pocket of the di-
rector whose turn it happens to be to look after the
securities, the emolument of this office always going in
rotation. He calls again, and is told whether or not
his security is sufficient; if not, he gives another secu-
rity and another shilline; if it is, he is told to call on a
certain evening when the loans are made, and he will
be attended to. Should he give half-a-dozen securi-
ties, and none prove acceptable, he pays his six shil-
lings — for nothing is returned. When the evening
arrives, he is called in his turn before the secretary,
treasurer, and two directors, who form the authorised
court for the conduct of the business. He is asked
what amount he wishes to borrow. Perhaps it is £5
for six months : the first thing is to deduct 5 per cent,
from the amount of the loan. Is. for the book with
the . " borrowers' rules," in which will be made the
entries of his weekly payments (for the loan is repaid
in this manner), and the first week's instalment, and
then in addition Id. in part payment of the rent of the
office, and Id. towards the secrtstary's salary, both of
which expenses he. is obliged by the " rules " to bear in
common with the rest of the borrowers weekly. Should
he fail to keep up his weekly instalments, he is written
to by the secreta^ calling upon him to pay, and for this

* ■ Initruotions for the Establishment of Loan Societies.'
London: Printed by W. Clowes and Sons, for hot Majesty's
Stationery OiBoe. 1837.

t The reader may consult ' A Guide to nearly One Hundred
Loan Societies.' London : W. Strange.

letter he is ohaiTiid 3d., a fee for the braeflt of th« M'
cretary. If he iooi not pay duo regard to this, he it,
at the expiration of three weeks, mimmoned before the
magistrates of the district, who, however, have shown a
ditmolination to enforce the payment of the extras, and
have confined their decisions merelv to the sum due to
the society after the deduction of the legal interest.
That such societies occasionally Nistain losses there is
no doubt ; but these losses are tiivial in comparison to
the immense profits they make, as will be seen from the
fact that one of them, upon a capital of ^£2000, vaa
known to declare on the first half-yoar's business a
dividend of 15 per cent., and on the second half year a
dividend of 18 per cent.'

A proper loan society is a modest association of phi-
lanthropic persons, connected with some limited district,
who wish to aid the meritorious poor of their neighbour-
hood with sr.all advances of money, with or without the
prospect n a small interest for their outlay. Anxious
only fo: the welfare of their humble neighbours, they
extend their aid on terms strictly equitable; while they
guard against abuses of another kind, bv making loans
only where, from personal knowledge, they are assured
that a good use will be made of the money. It is only
in such circumstances that a loan society will do any
good, as it is only under certain circumstances, aa to
prudence and careful management, that the Scotch sys-
tem of banking, which loan societies resemble, is at-
tended with the contemplated results.

As far OS our information enables us to judge, tho
loan-fund system is nowhere on a better footing than
in Ireland. Private, irresponsible, and usurious loan
societies exict there, as elsewhere, but apparently in
less proportion to those of a beneficial character. The
extensive utility of loan funds in Ireland is owing to the
establishment, by an act in 1836, of a central board
of commissioners, with power to inspect the books of
all societies formed under the act. In consequence of
this statute, there are now from two to three hundred
loan-fund societies throughout Ireland, conducted on
philanthropic principles, and said to be producing a
great amount of good. In these societies all profits,
after paying clerk's salary and other unavoidable ex-
penses, are applied to charitable purposes. It appears
that in 1840, 215 such societies were circulating
£1,164,046 amongst 463,750 borrowers, and that
£15,477 of profit had been realised in three years.

Mr and Mrs S. C. Hall, in the agreeable work on
Ireland published by them, give the following account
of the way in which one of these societies is usu^ly con-
stituted, and the manner in which the business is sub-
sequently conducted:—' The resident gentry of some
locality in which no loan society exists, perceive that
such an institution is required, or would benefit the
people in the district. A meeting is called, and aa
many as are inclined to become depositors state their
intention of taking debentures from the new society,
for which they receive interest, in some places 5, and
in others 6 per cent. One party is voted treasurer,
another honorary secretary, and three or four others
trustees. Rules for the government of the society are
then drawn up, and it is imperative that each set of
rules shall contain a provision that no manager or
trustee shall directly or indirectly derive any profit
from it. Another rule must ascertain the limit to which
the managers shall be at liberty to go in expenses of
management; and a third, that the treasurer shi^l
become bound with solvent sureties in a reasonable
amount for the faithful performance of his duties. These
rules are then transmitted to the secretary in Dublin
Castle, for the approval of the Board, who make any
alteration in them they may deem expedient; and the
copy is then returned to the society, that three fair
transcripts may be made and sent up for certification.
On their reaching the secretary, he submits <ihem to the
certifying barrister, who, if they are iu accordance with
the acts, attaches bis certification and signature that
such is the case. One of these transcripts is then lodeed
in the office of the secretarv to the Board, another mth

537,

OBAiattM nopoiitAsioir i<o» na ftotti.

iU cl«k of ilM p«M« of «h« eoutty iB wkkb *h« Matotgr
la liluatod, and Um thM ia InuMnlMMl to tk* teMMUOT
of Uio Moitly, M ft Touohor tbst Ua woMy it ntitlad tfi
thfMiTiltflM oonfMNd 1^ tho Mt.
Ttw MeM/ ii ihmt in lagkl wiitoiioo, sud oommanoM

riAiona. A poirwit ia q>pointad dark, and to him
iatondiag bomiren appl^ for appUoation-iMpota,
which u* aMOfding to tha fonn pnntod In the aub-
Joinad note,* and for oach of wliloh a panny or » half-
pannT ii oanarally charged.

Thia baiBg flllad up, and rotumad br tha applicant,
hia aolTonoy and general character, with thoae of hia
BuratiH, are oonaidared by one or two of the tniataea in
ooundl met for the puipoae; and if i^tprorad, tha full
loan applied for, or aooh portion of it aa they may think
proper to grant, ia paid to the borrower, atopping, at the
time tha loan ia iaaaed, aij|>enoe in the pound oy way
of intareat Tha boirower then reoeirea a card, on
which the amount lent to him ia entered, and the in-
atalmante he paya are marked off. A duplicate of thia,
or a proper account of the tranaaotion, ia of courae
bookM by the aociety. The borrower, and hia auretiea
for him, bind themaelrea to repay the amount of the
loan in twenty weeka, by inatalmenta of one ahilling in
tha pound per weak. Thua, if a bomwer appliea for a
loan of £6, which ia apptored, the aociety handa him
£4, 17a. 6d., letidning two abiiliugn and aizpence aa
intereet. He then paya fire bhillinga for twenty weeka,
and the £6 ii paid off. Should the borrower run into
de&ult, he aubjecto himaelf, tn moat aodetiea, to a fine
of one penny for the flrat week, and threepence for the
aeoond and ereiy auoceeding week, on each pound leut
him ; and ahould he remain two weeka in default, hia
auretiea leceire notice that they will be aued for the
amount, together with the finea incurred ; and unleea
the borrower cornea in, thia is immediately done. But
in tha Tery great majority of caaea so auoh atopa aire
neoeaaarr, the poor borroweia being generally Tery
punctual in their repaymenta.

It haa been objected by some, laat the borrowers lose
their time in repaying i^eae inatalmenta, but in practice
the peraonal attendance of the borrower or hia auretiea
ia aeldom giren. The inatalmente of a whole neighbour-
hood are irequentlv brought in by a child, or some old
person, fit for no other employment, who goen, per viotm,
tor two or three town-landa. " Indeed," remarks the
Rer. Mr Nixon, of CaatleTown, " it ia quite delightful
to aee the confidence reposed by the borrowers m the

a AFPLICATtOM FOa A M>AII VaOM TM — — I«AIf aOOIJITY.

Farmer Loan (if taj) No.

Anoont, £ Fines, t. d,

I, ' , of — — , parbh of

— , county of
-, of whl«di the Petty Sewions are held at — — , uid
holding acres of laz:^, request that I may be accominodatcd
with pound shillings, according to the rules of

tha ' Loan Fund, which I intend to employ in ,

and of which I aolemnly UooIats that the whole Is to be applied
to wf own use, and not divided with any other person.

■ is penonally

I certify that ths abore-named -
known to mo, and that I coniidor to be a sulrent, honest.
Industrious porMn, and that I beUere the above stotemsnt to be
perfietly oorreot.

Otvan na r my hand, this day of IM .

Signed, ■ I of .

[Tt is requested that no person wlU certify for an I M MORAL i> K R-
soir, or for one who does not live industriously in some calling.]

We whose names are hereunto subscribed, will guarantee tb»
payment by a promissory-note of £ , «. to the troasurar tat
the time being of the— —Charitable Loan Society, applied

for by .

Given nndcr our hand this day of

of , of which the Petty Sessions

are held at , possesaed of property in ——to

the valoo of at least £
-• ■ ' of —

aiebeUnt-

theTalae«( at least «
6S8

', of which tha Petty Sessiofis
pcsssss i lolpropwiyin i to

pecaau iriw awiy thair IsatalmtBla, aad alao tha fldaUtjr
aad umutmty, nay, aran tha tact, thai theaa latter erinca
in tha diaahaiga of tha duty th^ lutn undertaken." In
aoma plaoea tha amount of^inlsnat aharged ia laaa than
that abora atatad, and ia othaia tha finaa are higher.
There ia no uniformity in thaaa mattara, nor haTa tha
central Board anv power of anfoming It, though it ia
•ridantly desirable.'

Mr Hall, adrcrting to the Third Report of the Loan
Fund Board to Paruament, aaya, * It appeara by this
return — and the circumstance ia ao remarkable aa to
appear at firat inoredibla— that oat of an amount of
£1,164,046 circulated in email bana amonnt 463,7fi0
indiriduala, ao email an amount u £860, Ira. 8d. only
ahould have been lost, or about iq. in the pound. We
were very sceptical on thia point, and consequently
directed vigilant attention to the aubieot; when, what
waa our surprise to find that CTcn thu X860 — this Jk.
in the pound — ia oonaiderablr mora than has been reaUy
lost, or left deficient by the poor borrowers! From
the " list of societies whose accounte show a loaa on the
tranaactiona of the year !840, after paying interest to
depositors and expenses of management," we took the
first — namely, Mitcbetstown, when the reported loss
was £43, 2s. 6d., when we ascertained that tnis society
lent during 1840, £5420 amongst 8070 borrowers, who
]>aid £135, or sixpence in the pound, for ite use, be-
sides £11, 10s. lOd. for the price of their application-
papers and cards. The society paid iu interest for
money lent to it, and expenses of management,
£190, 3s. 4d., and the difference between its receipts
and disbursements constitutes this £43, 2s. 6d., not one
penny of which was lost from defaulters. We are in-
formed by a person in every way competent to judge,
it is his firm belief that out of this £1,164,046 lent, not
the odd £46, or not one-tenth of a farthing in the pound,
was unpaid. This fact alone speake volumes for .'lo
honesty of the people, and their appreciation v£ the
benefit which the loan funds confer on them.

It has been argued that tliis security from loss hai
arisen iu consequence of the powers which the law gives
for the recovery of the loans; but the observation is
equally applicable to societies more strictly private.
For example, in New Rors a society haa been estab-
liahed upwards of forty years, for the lending small
sums to the poor; and the sum lost during the whole
of that period is within five pounds. This fact we give
upon the authority of the Iter. George Carr; we could
adduce others equally strong, and we have no doubt
might receive similar statements from nearly eveiy in-
stitution of the kind in Ireland. We rejoice greatly at
the opportunity thua suppli«^ ua of beariuz out, by un-
queationable pru.>f% our u :. opinions in tavour of the
honesty of the > ii>h peaaant. It is irieed a subject
upon which satisfactoiy evidence is eroecially neces-
sary; for it has been too frequently and too generally
questioned in England, where, upon this topic patticu-
larly, much prejudice prevails, and where it has been
far too long the custom to

<< Judge the many by tha raseal tsw."

We therefore, from the reiy minute inquiries we
h ■' instituted, have no hesitetiou iu arriruir at the
I elusion, that the loan funds in Ireland will r dily
become, nay, are already, mighty encines eiUcr for
good or evil, according aa they may D« worked and
superintended. Where properly managed, they can-
not fail to exeicisu a vast influence on the moral and
social condition of the people; where conducted care-
leuly, or by parties endeavouring to force business for
iheir own gain, they may be indeed condderod a moral
pestilence, blighting the energiea of the surrounding
population, nnd fostering habite of improrideuce or
dishonesty.*

THS ARNVIXr,

The nurchaae of an annuity ia a mode of providing
for the latter part of life, which may be the meet ap-
propmte in aom« inataaoea, especially where a person

800tAL iOOHOlltOS Of TBI IXDtnffRtOCS QlMDtBB.

y aiMmueeUd with wilt, ohUdiM, or okhtr bmt nIa-
tiTM, or whero thoM have boon ouonrito proridod for.
Whon the cMe is diflbnnt, neh a modo or proTiolon li
liablo to tho ohum of loUUhaoM, in m flur m it eon*
eoBtmtoi tho MnoAt upon tho parohMor alooo ; U hM
•Ifo boon thoocht to tond to onooonigo impioTidont
•nd OMolow habitf, Moing that, onoo Hourod of » oon-
potont proriiion for life, the itimnlut to fyuther nring
11 in a groat meararo doitroyod.

Thoro are numoroui compuiioo whioh grant aonni-
tioi on tho prinoiplo of making a profit by titem ; and
■onietimei tnii branch of buiineM io oarriod oa in con-
nection wi*'*i tLa» of life-aHurauco. There are alio aiio-
Hr.^loiit of individuali for obtaining; annuitioi and en-
dowmenti to widowi and other nominees on the mutual
amirance principle; and one lar ■ cIom of thene^ at

Sreiont flouriihing in various pa' ^f the United Kuig*
ora, are mid to bo baied on ausound calculation!,
and firauffht with diiappointment to those roljring upon
them. There is indeed one circumstance generally
unfaTOurable to annuity business — n( Dioly, that the
ordinary tables of mortality present views of the ex-
pectation of life somewhat mIow what is at present the
truth in England. Hence what makes life-assurance
business everywhere so prosperous, is precisely that
whioh tends to make annuity business a source of loss.
It is obvious that, whero individuals unite for annuities,
and too low charges are made, those dying first will
secure an over -proportion of the benefits, and leave
those who come bolund nothing but an empty purse.

With ' . view to encourage persons of the humbler
classes i provide of themselves for their latter voars,
the government obtained an act (3 and 4 Will. IV.
c. 14} to enable trustees of the legally-established sav-
ings' banks to sell annuities of nut less than four or
more than twenty pounds upon the security of the
national credit. The same act provided that, in pa-
rishes where there was no savings' bank, a society for
granting such annuities might be formed, provided
that the rector or minister of the parish, or a resident
justice of peace, should be one of the trustees. Any
person above fifteen years of age was entitled vo pur-
chase such on annuity, which mixjht bo to oomn^ence
immediately, or at a future penod of life, or for a
limited term of prears, at the pleasure of the party, and
might be paid either in one sum or in half-yearly sums,
convertible into quai-terly by dividing the annuity, and
commencing the two ptuis at different periods of the
year. The whole arrangements of this act were dic-
tated by the most considerate benevolence towards the
classes designed to be benefited. To quote an authori-
tative document : — * Provisions are made for enabling
the party to make his annual payments, or receiving
tho annuity, at any other society than the one at which
the contract was originally entered into. Upon the
death of the person ou whose life the annuity depended,
a sum equal to one-fourth part of the said annuity (over
and above all half-yearly arrears thereof respectively)
will be payable to the person or persons entitled to such
annuity, or his, her, or their executors or administra-
tors (as the case may be), provided such last-mentioned
payment shall be claimed within two yean after such
decease, but not otherwise ; provided also that the
fourth part of any expired life annuity, payable under
the provisions of 'vho said act, will not be Disable, nor
be paid upon, or in respect of any drftrred life annuity,
unless one half-yearly payment of such deferred life
annuity shall have been actually paid or become due at
the time of the decease of the nominee. Independently
of the advantages which are thus afibrded to the indus-
trious c l as s es to obtain, by small payments, a certain
provision in old age, oi at any other stated period, u-
owred bf/ government, and of which they cannot be de-
prived on account of miscalculation, the tables of con-
tributions have been so calcultied, that \f the purehaier
qf a deferred Itfe annuUy die h^ore the timt arriva at
which Uu annuity it to oommenoe, the tehoJe (/ the money
he hoi aetuttUy contributed teiU be returned, withoM any
deduction, to hiefami^, AaA if it doM not exceed ££Q,

it is not OMMNaiy that probate or latim of adminif.
tiation should to taken oat. Bat if kr >>•« ^-f.i a will,
or admlnistiation U taken out, no itMnp or knfly duty
is payabU in reepeot of the sum io returaaUe, if the
whole eetate, Im. of tlio memtor b under £50 ; and
Uffiu,i/afureha$eriaitu)^paikt/ttmt1nui»tthepi^-
umt tfhie pearly tasAiAMiils, he m«y, at amy time, yem
riuitg three monthi notiee, nen'M badi the uihols of the
money he ha$ paid. No annuity granted will to lulgect
or liable to any taxes, &o. ; nor can the same be trana-
ferred or aeiigned, but must continae to to the pro-
perty, or to received ibr the tonefit, of the party by
or for whom it was porchased; but in case of the bank-
ruptcy or insolvency of the purchaser of an annui^'/,
the same is to to repurahased by the commissioners
at a valuation according to tto tables upon which the
annuity was originally granted, and the monev will to
paid to the aisignie for the benefit of tto creditors.

From the atovo ,.atoment it will Mpear that any
dtferred annuity, purchased by annual or other pay-
ments, firom a society established under the stat. 8d,
WiU. IV. c. 14, wiU entiUe the purchaser (if he live to
the age at which the annuity is to commence) to receive
an annuity equivalent to the value of all his parents,
with the accumulation of compound intereet ; if to to
unable to continue his vearly instalments, he may have
back all the money he has paid, exclusive of interest ;
and if he die before the commencement of the annoity,
his family will, in like manner, receive the whole of the
contribuuons he may have actually made previous to his
deoeaee, exclusive of interest.'

The tables on which the government annuities are
granted tove been formed, as might to exp«H,ted, on
the soundest principles, and are entitled to the greatest
respect. They relate to foi>r kinds of tonefit — dis&rred
annuities upon the continuanco of single lives, imme-
diate annuities upon the oontinnaace of single lives, de-
ferred annuitiee to continue for a certain term of years,
and immediate annuities to continue for a certain term
of years. The whole are presented in a brochure quoted
below.* We extract only one specimen— namely, tto
terms of an annuity of £20, payable after twenty years
from the time of its purchase : —

Money to be

Age of the Person at the thno

Yearly |

paid down in

of Purchase upon whose Life

Bum

One Sum

the Annuity Is to depend.

required, i

tt the Urns of
Pnn-Tissa

£ t.

£ I. d.

15 and nnder 16. .

10 11

187 11 9

16 ...

... 17,

10 »

15S17 6

17 ...

... 18, .

10 7

154 3

18 ...

... 19,

10 4

159 7

19 ...

... SO, .

10 2

150 10 «

SO ...

... 81,

9 19

148 13

SI ...

... 88, .

9 17

146 13 S

ss ...

... 81,

9 14

144 U 6

83 ...

... 24, .

9 11

149 8 6

U ...

... 23,

9 8

140 9 6

3S ...

... 86, .

137 15

88 ...

... 87,

9 1

138 4 6

S7 ...

... 88, . .

8 18

138 11

S8 ...

... 89,

8 14

189 15 6

S9 ...

... 80, .

8 10

196 18 6

30 ...

... 81,

8 6

194 1

81 ...

... 82, .

8 8

ISI t •

32 ...

... 88,

7 19

118 « 6

a ...

... 84, .

7 16

lis 11

Si ...

... 38,

7 11

119 17 •

35 ...

... 86, .

7 8

ItO 3 6

36 ...

... 87,

7 4

lorn

87 ...

... 88, .

7 I

KM 19

88 ...

... 89,

6 17

109 7 «

39 ...

... 40, .

6 14

90 15

40 ...

... 41,

6 10

97 1 6

41 ...

... 42! . .

6 6

94 8 6

42 ...

... 48,

6 S

91 7

43 ...

... 44, .

6 18

88 6

44 ...

... 45,

S 14

85 8 6

* 'Instmattons for Uie Fcnnation of TvrodaM Sooiatiw for
granting Oovemment Annnitles.' Iioodon : Printed by W.
Clowes and Son, ftrlMclbOeslgr'sBtatioMqr Office. 1817.

ttujaasam vnomumow roit ffsi piopu.

BWiTOUitt rAriiBao«iMO.
th« naecMitiM of th« kurablMr oImin hftr* civm rii*
to th* tntdo of pawabiokiBg, whioh, trm wnon oon-
duetodi u U ofttn It, by nopootabto ponont, MrtainW
fomit ft MTora punlihmoni upon tb* poor for Ikofr
poTWriy. On tbu iuI^mI tomt •.x»g(;«nl«d viowi h»T0
ot hU jtn gimt abroad: but tb«r* can b^ no doubt
tb*t tb« pnoroat claM, in pledftinc •mall artic « fut tkort
pariodt— ar-i tho gnator part of pawnbroking buiin«M
afpaan to ba of thi* kind — art lubjact to tiiornKHUB
•xtoHions, ealcdlated moat matarially to koep th«n in
a doprawad condition. It bra b«<in aaid that £3000 la
annually laut by pftwiibrokera in Ireland in one abiU
Ibg loans, and that thia aum actually produoas to the
landara in a yaar not leaa than £l!i,600. i'o a poor
parson in want of a ivhtUing for a wMk, it appears in
great hardship to pay » panny for the loan of it; but
whan we consider that this is, in i«al!ty, borrowing
money at 433^ per cent, per annum, the hurdtihip of the
case is prtsented in its true light. Nor is the licensed
and oatanaible trade of the pawnbroker tbo worst of the
casa. WheroTor a large honia of rery poor people la
ealleeted iu our large towns, there rises on unlicensad
and clandestine specios of the trade, couducttiil upon
principles still more ruinous to the noitdy. It hn« been
shown that there are in Glasgow many hundreds oi' small
uoUcruied nawnbrokins estkblishnnents, whose estor'
tions ftom too poor infinitely cxosed the lend rates to
which the licensed tradera nre r«strict«(?.. The saying
of Solomon, thai thu destruction of the poor is their
poverty, was n«Ter perhaps shown in a more forcible
but nielan.boly light than in the losses which Uiey en-
dure in consequence of the necessity they ars occasion-
ally under of raising money b} pledges.

On the continent, the system of lending upon pledges
has been practised for several centuries upon a bene-
volent principle. T) e establishments where the busi-
ness is carried on sre called MiynU de I'iMi {mountt
being a term applied to heaps of money, while the nrord
pi£tf expresses the religiously benevolent vie its in which
the pinn originated). In this case an association of
benevtlert persons, possesiiing a little capita! in com-
mon stocl°, are the pawnbrokeis, Kud the objecta they
keep in vie? ara to make the tfW of pledging as lieht
i-> tW po-tr as (."oaubla, ^nd to apply the profita to cha-
T table pu.-posas by which the poor will be benefited.
Htn there is no eitortian, iio punishment for poverty,
and the poo. as a iKxIy, may oe said to los«i nothing.
In Franoi, some abuses are said to have crept into the
system; but these are not essential to it, and no have
had experience nearer home how much good luay be
done by a well-conducted Mont de Pi£t£-.

The first establishment of the kind in the United
Kingdom n'os set up at Limerick in 1837, through the
exertions of a gentleman named Barrington, ior the
purpose of supplring funds to an hospital whu-h he had
founded out of his own fortune. The required capital
was raised by debentures (or joint-stock shares) varying
in amount from one to five hundred pounds each, upon
which interest was to le allowed ^t the rate of 6 per
cent. These might be withdrav.'n at three months'
notice, or money would be advanced upon them as
pledges. Mr Barrington described the folic wing as the
advantagea propcard by his scheme : —

' Is(, The rauing a capitU by small debentures at a
certain interest, and lendine it on a greater interest,
and applying the profits to tie purposes >.^ charity.

idlfff Receiving the debentures in paw! , tL>:« giving
to the depositors an uivantage which thvy do not pos-
sess in the savings' baiik.

3<i/y, Lending r oney at interest to poor persons of
unimpeachable character and industnous habits, on
personal security, as is done by the loan banks.

4<A/y, Lending money on goods, aa is now done by
the ordinary pawnbrokers.

5M/y, In case of deserving objects, to restore the
article, such as implements of trade pawned in the
hour of no/ want, without intenat ot duu'ge.

0(%, V Using avwy praoaution agsklnlt vaeaiving
stolan goods in p«wB.'

The plan masting with a hearty approval, a capital
of abovo £1A,0<M wm quickly, eubseribed, partly by the
gantry, and partly by peraons in the humbler waiks of
lit*. An active and intal)ig«nt panon, who had him-
self bsan a pawnbroker, wa» placed at the head of the
ostablishmant, which had no sooner oomraenced busi-
ness than it beoame largoly iup^>ortad. The following
view uf tka tnuisaclions, from March 18R7, when it
commenced, up to December 1R40, is given by Mr and
Mrs Kail in th«!r work on Ireland : —

Yaars.

An-ount lent im

Amount raoelvcd for
ItuloMod Articlas.

UraasProflt.*

I8»7,

!SJ8,

1840,

£ t. d.
14,IW 1 A
17.880 18 »
il.iWl 7 8

£ 1. d.

9,m 11 101
i«,ms IS 8

M,7J7 l» (1
St,«75 1 S

4 *. <t.
8U I 7

1074 18 4
1171 IS .1

US! 13 11

Total,

T9,m » Oi

71,005 S T

8940 10 i\

There is no charge for tickets at this establishment;
consequently if those pnwns were pledged at a pawn-
broker's, the froor would have to pay for each pawn a
sum of one penny; it* the amount norrowed amounted
to lOs., twopence; if it amounted to 40s., fourpence:
therefore (nut at all taking into account the low rate
of interest) the saving efiected by the very poorest
piitrsous is most remarkable. For instance, say tnat

UO.OOO at those pledges were under 10*. , at Id. escli , £1500
(0,000 do. im<(er 40i., at M. each, 71)0 O

10,893 do. ovn-40(.,Bt4<t. «ach, 18111 H

Or a lum savod in four yearn on tlie hare item c( \ ^ •,•. , , „
tickets, to the verj' pourast peoph), of - J • "" " •

If to this b« added the saving in interest, we may safely
calculate that nearly as much in addition is saved aa
the establishment is realising — as the following table
will show the difference in the rate of interest, for dif-
ferent sums, to 10s. and £1.

Bum Lent

£ t.

Hont de Pidt*
laUirast. i

Pawnbroker's
luteraat.

p
II

Pawnbrokcr'a

Total Ckixrot of

Interest wul

Tlvket.

li
It
8

8
8i

8
7

The Mont de Pi£te of Limerick having been attended
with success, insomuch that it supports the hospital
for the sick poor of the city, similar establishments
have bean opened at Belfast and Tandragee, and the
example will doubtless be followed in time on this tiite
of the Irish Channel. In September 1840, at the meet-
ing of the British Association held at Qlasgow, an inte-
resting paper on the subject of the Irish establishments
was read by Mr H. J. Porter, from which we niuke the
following extract : —

* At the close of the first nine months oi the 'opera-
tions of the Tandragoef Mont de Pietc, I was able to
show that the borrowers fW>m the loan fund depart-
ment, on personal security, hwi in their possession 1 1 89
looms, of which 612 (more than haif tho number) wero
hired at 10s. per aimum. Oue man had aw that period

* The total number of pawns rooe^ved since the astabUdhment
open«l, to March 19, 1841, was M9,b80.

BOCIAL BOOVOMIOB OF THB INDUSTRIOUS ORDERS.

NoaiTbg

t. d,

i 1 71

18 tl

IS 9

h, £l»W

ih, 7S0

!h, 181 11 8

\ AUtt II 8

3
>i

u
«

on* loom, for wkiok k« hud p«id £':> within th« pre
vlou» twantv.four y^wi, without luty other altmktion
than th*t whieh wm ntoMMry ou th« inrtntion of tha
iijr.«huttl«| uid kftor having p»id the price of four
new looms in intereit, '- wm not at that tim« th«
ownor of on*. Here, i- n nwnv eiroilM cmm, the
Mont d* Piittf wu the luv.mt of reliorinv the poor, Mid
the owner* of loomii for lure begMi to And it difficult
to let them out. Une farmer, indeed, proposed to aell
hi* (took of loom* to the inttitution, finding the hop*
of hi* gain drawing to a olo*<>; Imt of couree the pro-
potal wa* r«'j*oted, a* the** old looms were incapahl*
of producing a* good a fabric a* the new loom* issued
bj the Mont de I>i£ti-.

At the period of which I ipeak— namely, the flnt
nine months of operation— abore 2600 loan* had been
granted for the following purposes: —

Vor provtolons, - • Lmtiu

, BM> Amounting to £1640

MAtiTiaU for trodu.

UettUng,

Clothing

Repslrkofhoiuei, • ...

148

Yam for weaving, ■

18T

Oil

lioonv, ...

lit

448

To ..y smsU debu

18S

T/buyoowi,

SW»

... pigf, ......

S78

Fanning purposei, Mcd, Ac. ...

H88

Bent,

V»

Total,

ista

£9070

In order to form some idea of the bonefit derired
by these borrowers, T examined great numbers of
them a* thny appeared on the payment of the lait
weekly instalment. I ascertained pretty nearly tba
amount of money saved or realised by their having i'ae
advantage of ready money, and from the*e I fonr^eU an
arerage estimate of the whole.

Saving,

Profit,

Oatmeal,

• £1100

Potatoes, -

COWB, -

- mo

PItfl, ■ -

isss

Dealing,

6«4

Total,

£6006

Total,

£SS»6

Had the Mont de Pi£t£ conferred no other benefit on
the country than that derived by the peasantry, in pro-
curing their suiiimer provisions for ready money, that
alone would amply repay the director* for all the la-
bour beetowed on the working of the institution. What
were the circumstances of these £60 families in bygone
summers 1 Many of them found it difficult to procure
credit, or obtain a sufficient lupply of wholo*ome food
for the maintenance of their familie* ; idlenei* pre-
vailed, sickne** incieased, and not unfrequently fields
were mortgaged to more wealthy neighbours, who sup-
plied the wretched holders of two or three acrei of land
with the required food at an exorbitant price. Others,
whoee credit was good, passed promissory-notes, payaui'
at harvest, and not unfrequently they were charged for
meal 6s. or 8s. per cwt. more than the market price, La-
dependent of the expense of stamps; and it was no v.n.
common practice for a poor man, wanting the imi >.•'
diate use of a few pounds in money, to purchase oat-
meal from a forestaller of provisions, while a third person
would buy back the oatmeal from the poor man at a
much less price than he was charged, hand him the
money, and the oatmeal would never be delivered, but
lold again by the fore*taller to the nsxt cuatomer. The
object of this transaction is evident. The value of a
promissoiy-note for provisions would be easily recover-
able at the quarter sessions, while one for cash, bear-
ing usurious interest, would be likely to involve the
forestaller in an open violation of the law. Thus were
the poor on eveiv side oppresaed : the harvest-time ar-
rived, and the debts for the supply of summer provisiona
were generally first paid from the produce of the farm ;
too ouen were they unable to pay just demands of rent
»ud other charges, while in few caae* were they able to

hold OT*r th*ir com till the moat fiTtvrabl* tlm«
arrived for bringing the produce of th*ir tuna to
m«rk*t.

What, on th* other hand, ha* been the experl«uc«
of th* la*t (uroroer ( Tho*e MO fiunilie* borrowed, on
moderate interest, from the Mont d* PiiU, £1640, and
by habit* of in.tustry and incr*a**4 diligem e, thair
wMkly instalments are paid; at harvMt, instead of
being d*eply Involvsd in debt, they owed nothiuc for
their summer's food, and the produce of their land hoa
in many cases been r**erved for week*, till the beet
price could be obtained ; th«;y are able not only to pay
their rents, but to supply themselves and their children
with better clothing. Hut other moral effects have
followed. Half^nce and pence, which formerly ware
squandered in tobacco, snuff, and ardent spirits, are
treasured up for the Monday morning's instalments,
and the people are beginning to foel the value of small
sums, and the truth of the old homelr proverb, that)
' if you take care of the pennies, the shilling* will take
care of themselves.'

Again, we find that £2M0 has been borrowed for
the purchase of cows. The benefit to the poorer clasae*
in this particular is incalculable — the health arising
from the possession of an abundant supply of milk;
the improvement on their farms, by sowing green crop*
for the maintenance of their cows; the increased quan-
tity of manure which is provided for the land — while
it ha* been ascertained that in twenty weeks the gene-
rality of cows purchased have paid, by the produce of
milk and butter sold, one-half of their own cost. Hun-
dreds of families arri now possess^.! of a cow each, and
great numbers have already procured a second. As »
proof of the saving habits which are promoted by thi*
system, 1 may mention that a respectable person ha*
settled in this town, whose sole business is the purchase
of buttei' and eggs for exportation ; and he find* it
frequently difficult to attend to the immense influx of
persons who come to sell their produce to meet their
weekly instalments. One poor woman borrowed a
pound; she bought five hens for 4s. 2d.; she expended
15b. lOd. in clothing; and at the end of tho twenty
weeks her five hens had been the sole means of paying
off her debt to the loan fund.

But what is the testimony of the manufacturer* in
the neighbourhood t That the industry which is pro-
moted by the necessity of those weekly instalments, and
the punctuality of the weavers in returning their cloth,
has already had the most beneficial effects.

And how are persons in trade affected by the opera-
tions of the Mont de Piete 1 I have it from the best
authority, that a great increase of business has been the
result, and a gret-ter degree of punctuality in meeting
all ennigements on the part of the poorer classe*. One
class oloiie are suffering from the effects of the Mont
de Pietc, and they are little deserving of compassion.
Those who live by the destruction of others, both soul
and body, are not to be commiserated — those who keep
open houses for the drunkard — and when they have
^vi?r a poor person a* much whisky as they think he
UuL v«y for, or is able to consume, turn him out, inca-
■^.i-iiiik of taking care of himself, and exposed to the
.Hti of a watery grave in the next river or canal he
meets — those are surely persons whose lack of business
and prosperity is a blessing, and whose failure in trade
must be held as a common good. I have undoubted
authority for saying that the temperance cause and the
Mont de Piete are going hand-iu-hand; and the two-
pence for the mommg glass, or the shilling for the
night's carousal, are now carefully saved to meet the
weekly instalment.

I might enlarge on the important benefit* which
this institution confer* upon the working-class — above
£1200 expended in the purchase of pigs, which are
such a source of wealth to the Irish poor, being
nearly fattened on the refuse from the table* of the
owners.'

We must be excused for adding, in illustration, one
more anecdote from » report by Mr Hmynes of tho

iwpwui Allow fo> Tn noruL

iMillttlion tot «pw n d, WM in tiM iMbll w pMffiag
<Mf« moninf kw iMd-lkik for two ■hUllnp Mid lix-
panM, sad NMMtaff it tirmy •TMingi thU ih* did for
w« purpoM of minkwring potatoM (W»m tka country
p^raib, Md ritMliiii thorn kAwwarda in miftll quMi-
titiM> At • Ughor prloo, tkanbT ondMYouring to lup-
portMr Ikmlly t for tliis loan mo dailg paid M« jmnm-
triitr a« WM ^ dMfMMM. Whm tko Mont do Pi<t4
ooonad, tho, bolng onlj olwrgad » luJf^njr, MTtd
tnrM-hiUfponot dftily, wltioli ovontuklly on»bl«d hot to
rkiie • imall itook-puno of ton ihUlingt; and th* now
•tldom, if oTor, ritita OTon that ofloo.'

TMB rnOTIDKMT DltPKNIART.

On thoiubjoot of modical »tt«ndMioe,tli* vorkinfr-man,
in ordinary oiroumftanoei, mav woll bo at * Iom bow to
act; for, on tho one hand, wbon he oallt in a doctor
on account of himielf or hit family, he ii oppreieed
by tho high ohargei for attendance and medicine ; and
on the other, if he reeorte to a diipennuy or hoenital,
he loeei hi* independence. That theee are etiU of large
amount, and wiaely preTalent, might «a*ily be ihown.
In England, the ordinary medical practitioner chargee
for m^icine only, but he giree muck of that, aii<l plaoee
a high price upon it. A working-man, ill fcr three
weeki, will flud, on hie recorery, a bill of thirty or forty
■hillinn run up againet him, either cauiing him to break
up hi« little hoard in the tarlDgt' bank, or keeping him
In embarraMment for the eniulng twelremontn. Con-
ducted ai the medical profeation ii in that country, it ii
impoaiible, in short, for a poor man to hare independent
medical attendanoe which he meani to papr, without the
moit lerinui pecuniary diitren being entailed upon him.
So leTorely ii thii felt, that the reiort to medical chari-
ties has of late yean been rapidly on t'ue advance in
England, both inrolTing more indiTiduals, and indl-
Tiduais of a better class than formerly. In 1821, when
the population of Manchester was 1A8,000, the dispon-
■ary patients were 12,000. In 1631, when the popu-
lation was 230,000, this class of patients had advanced
to 41,000; an increase of fUUy two to one. It was oal-
oulated in the latter Tear that, of all the persons ill and
requiring medical advice, the dispensary patients were
a majority. Similar facts are stated with respect to
Leeds and Birmingham. It would appear as if a wide-
apreail demoralisation were going on throughout Eng-
land from this cause. Dr Holland of Sheffleld has
recently published a volume calling attention to the
subject. He sets out by stating vety broadly, aa his
opinion, that the character of the working-classes in
Sneffield were, at the period of his writing, undergoing
a certain despve of deterioration, in consequence of so
many charities, and particularly medical charities,
being thrown open to them, the self-respect connected
with independence being thus gradually worn away,
and with it the virtues which have never yet been
found to exist without it. The Infirmary, we are told,
was established for the benefit of tho poor and needful
of all nations; but it never, our author argues, could
have been designed for those who are able otherwise to
obtain the desired aid. Now, however, the fact of
being an operative is held as a sufficient claim. ' The
artisan never dreams of the poaaibility of rejection on
the ground of being in full and re^ar employment,
and bebg amply remunerated for hia labour. Ho ap-
pliea now aa naturally to the charity when he ia aick aa
to the tailor for the repair of hia clothea, with this dif-
ference, that he would be perfectly astonished were any
one to hint at the propriety of paying for the fitvoura
conferred by the former.' Our author aigues againat
the following daaaaa at leaat having any right to the
benefita of the inatitution : — Single men in emplo^ent
— married men with only young and amall ianulies —
men with several children but high wages — men who
have several sons and apprentices working along with
them — aervanta in aituationa. All of theae peraona,
excepting the laat, muat be able to provide medical
attendance for themaelvea, if they economise their
«42

H* Maaanta a kvadrad eant of applteatlons,
being those witkia the fcw WMkf befjit tha time whan
he waa writiag, an^ »at of tkaaa ki akowa that there
were fifteen y .una •l\i«le men, all of <vhom but two
had bean Ln ^mpl. viu«.!,e till the tin<, of their illnasa,
twelve at well-, -,<• ca^' -ind one aa a labourtr.
Eleven eaaea wm. < taruKl ptirsons without ohildran ;
and thirty-two ap^. <ivnhi mere married, with only one
or two children. In some of tho latter instanoes, ' the
only child is a daughter eigbi^don or twenty yean of
ago, who has never Imou allowed to go out to place, or
to learn any business j in othen, a son apprenticed to
his fkther, and both in regular employment. In one
instance, where the wife was the patient, the daughter
waa in a warehouie, and the son, a youth of fourteen
yean of atre, was a day scholar in a respectable private
academy la the town. The husband had received nguo
larly twenty-four shillings a week for the last twenty
yean. Many of tha thirty-two caaea are even more
ilafmnt instances of Impositions on the charity.'

Certainly in the whole number of applicants for relief,
as far as our author has described them, we do not find
that proportion of persons likely to be in necessitous
circumstaiices which might be expected. Tu support
his view*, be brings the testimony of the house-surgeon,
who, in answer to queries put to him, says, * The cha-
raoter and appearance of the patients generally are
very ditt'ereut from what they were fifteen or twenty
yoan ago. The patients are much more respectably
dressed, and in better circumstances. Many now, not
from inability to walk, are conveyed to the house in
hackney-coaches. . . . They apply for much more
trivial ailments than formerlv.' The author, from the
data aifurdod hiui, speaks of females who come to the
institution in elegant cloaks, shawls, and clogs. Not
one-half of the applicants have the appearance of indi-
gence. ' The frequency with whion they apply for
very trifling ailments, such aa alight sjrmptoms of indi-
gestion, coughs, or occasional pain, or, indeed, for the
ramoviU of disease which just perceptibly man tho
beauty of the face or neck, is evidence that their situa-
tion in life is very remote from those circumstances which
entitle them to the svmpathy of the beuevolent. Tht
rttM^poor never apply /or the relitfo/iligM and unim-
portant complaints.' Afterwards he adds — * In evidence
of the trifling nature of many of the medical cases, we
mav state that one-half are often cured in ten dayi,
and two-thirds in three weeks.'

The results of his inquiries at the dispensary are
nearly tho same. The gnat bulk of the applicants are
either themselves artisans in the receipt or good wages,
or the connections of such persons. They come in re-
spectable apparel, and when visited at their homes by
the medical men, are found to possess every appearance
of domestic comfort. Recommendations from sub-
soriben to the institution are necessary to procure ad-
mission; but these are given, in seven cases out of ten,
by persons who have no Knowledge of the circumntancei
of the applicants. * A gentleman who, from his position
in society, is often applied to, informs us that he always
refuses, unless the individual bring a letter from his
employer, stating that he is a neoesaitoua object; and
thoufrh promiring to give a recommendation on this
condition, not one in twenty rehumt to receive it.'

Facta still more remarkable are brought out by Dr
Holland. 'The distresses of a community,' he says
(meaning auch a community aa that of Sheffield, upon
which he founda his opinions), 'will be admitted to
bear a strict relation to the state of trade. When this
ia extremely depreaaed, many handa are thrown out of
employment, when the tnide is good, the demand for
labour is great; wagetf advance, and the blessings of
plenty are univeraaUy experienced. The amount of
misery or deatitution cannot be the aame in these very
difiTerent circumstances. It cannot be a fixed quantity
floating in society. The idea is prepoateroua; and yet,
if the registered demand for charity be any criterion of
the misery existing, then is indeed a quantity subject
to scarcely any variation whatever.

BOOTAl EOOirOMICS OF TRl nTDUSTBIOUB ORDERS.

From midraihmM IRitA to mldMmmcr IB.IA.twtirMn
which pcriixli tnule wu batttr in thi* town than it had
b«en known for v«an, tha numb«r of patiants a<iniittwl
on th« books of tht ti.flmiary wat Sl'Jtl. From nilU-
•uroroar inae to tiildiiummar 1887, between whloh

Krioda tra<la waa azcaadingly daprataad, the niira-
r waa A4SI, being an increaae onlv of aOA natienta.
Between the former p*rioda the number of paticnta on
tha books of the Dispensary waa '28HH. Hetween the
latter periods—that is, from July 1U80 to July 11137—
the number was 'U7S, being leaa by 3i» patients. Ac-
cording to these returns, there were iiyiit pali»nU tuor*
during a prMptrmiM Hale of Iradt, reci'pienU (/ mtdic<U
ekarity, Man during the »evtr« deprf.Aon of it.'

Dr Holland elsewhere stater that healthy seasona
are marked by no diniinutiop of the number of appli-
canta. * We hesitate not tu assert that, during the
last twelre months, there has been less disease in this
town and neighbourhood than has been known for
many years, and vel during this period the demands
on medical charitiea bare increaaed.'

Aa a remedy to these eTils, some bcnerolent persons,
with the co-operation of a few of the more liberal
of the medical profeaaion, bare instituted what are
called Provident Di$peniarie», the main feature of
which is, that the working-man contributes a small
sum weekly fVom his earnings, to entitle him to medi-
cal attendance ana the renuisito medicinas, in the
erent of illnesa entering hia household — the united
contributions of a tow hundred members being sufficient
to engage a respectable physician, and defray all the
other expenses, Huch institutions have been tried with
marked success at Coventry, Derby, and some other
places. They are limited strictly to the class who are
unable to fee medical attendants in the ordinary way,
but who are yet anxious to keep themselres in all re-
spects abore the condition of paupors. Individuals
wishing to belong to the provident dispenaariea must
join when in good health, aa the object is in reality an
'assurance' against sickness, and the provident cha-
racter of the institution could noi; otherwise be main-
tained. One penny a week is paid for each adult of
the family, and a halfpenny for each dependent child.
Individuals of the more affluent classes contribute
without the design of benefit for themsolvea, in order
to encourage the Inatitution, and from them in general
the directing body ia chosen — the only part of the
arrangement v hicu we cannot Ailly approve of. From
the proceeds a medical man ia feed, and medicines are
provided; and it is reraarkabln that a thousand sick
persona connected with a provident dispensary have
been found to cost considerably less than a similar
number of patients resorting to the medical charities.
The tendency of such institutions to maintain the moral
uprightness of the working-clasaea is obvious; and it is
already proved that, wherever they have been planted,
applications for parochial relief have been diminished.
It is to be lamented that medical men have a prejudice
against them, probably from no other cause than that
ainall copper auma are concerned in supporting them.
But surely it is better even for medical men tnat the
humbler order of patients should par something within
their means, and that regularly, than only pay in a
few instances, and in others either resort to charitiea
or leave a large debt unliquidated. Of the same na-

turn with theae dlspmsariaa ia th« pneUe*, n«w pretty
extanaivsly adopted at publio works whi>r* a (feat
number of haoua are employed, of compelling eaek
workman to depoait a oertatn amount of kia wages f«r

the purpoae of medical aid — a practice which ha* beea
attended with tha beat reaulta in many inatanoaa whick
have rome under our own kuowladgt.

Whatever may be tha aentlmanta of the profssaion
upon this point, it must be evident to all that, for the
workiiig-olaaaea theniaelvea, tha provident dlapnuaanr
ia a moat unexceptionable apeciea of inatitution. it
carriea tliem over one great ditiiculty in their career
with the preservation of their independence ( it doea
more, for, being on the aasurance principle, it encou-
rages habits of foresight. !:4<ime other advantages pre-
aumedly incidental to it are thua atated by Mr P. H.
Holland, in the pamphlet above quoted : — * Aaaiatanew
in sickness is much more easily accessible in provident
than honorary dispensaries. The patient need not lose
time, or degrade himself, by running about to bc<f a
recommendation, but applies at once for an attendance
ticket, and puts himself under the care of the medical
officer of his own choice ; in fact, procures aasiatane*
juat aa readily aa the richest of the land. Consequently,
aa I am informed by Mr Nankivell, at the Coventry
Diapenaary, the caaes being seen by the surguons at the
very outset, the probability of a successful result ia
much higher than in ordinarr dispensaries : for in-
stance, at Coventry, they have lost, out of 6094 patientt
attended, !)'2, or 1 in 66; at the Chorlton-upon-Mcdlouk
l)isi)ensary, in the same period, out of 6488 patienta
admitted, 210 died, or 1 in 80-6. All who have had
experience in ordinarjr dispensary practice, will know
the advantage of getting tne caaea early ; for, at pre-
aent, very many patienta, rather than undergo the
trouble, unpleaaantneaa, and painful aaoriflce of noneat
pride, will not apply for a recommendation until they
dare delay no longer ; consequently, many canes are
not under treatment until the only time at which it
could be available is past, and it is this which renders
dispensary practice so harauing.

It is probable, nay certain, tnat the large number of
patients, in proportion to the deaths, is in a 0Mt
measure owing to the very eaay access to a proTident
dispensary, causing many to apply on very trivial occa-
sions ; but who snail say bow many of these trivial
cases would have become serious, or even fatal, if
neglected 1 But this partial explanation will not at all
account for the very gratifying result which, by the
following analysis of the reports of the Coventry Sclf-
Supportmg Dispensary, I have elicited — namely,ma( tht
average mortalUy among the member* qf (Aoi diepenearjf
IS amiiderably Itu than the average mortality </ the
country generally. This is the more remarkable, as it
ia fair to presume that the sickly will be more ready to
subscribe than those in robust health, and therefore
we might have expected a mortality somewhat neater
than the average. The mortality of a town lute Co-
ventry is about 1 in 50 per annum. The following
table exhibits the number of members, upon the pre-
sumption that each on an average contributes at the
rate of 3s. per annum, which must be very L^ear the
truth, as adult members pay one penny p«r week; and
children a half)penny, while any more than two in a
family, below twelve years of age, are not charged: —

Calculated

Amount of

' Amount of

Number of

Computed

Number

Honorary

Subscriptions,

Years.

Members on

Patients

Deaths.

Number of

of Cases

Subscriptions and

Paid to the

the Avomge

Admitted.

Members to

to each

Donations ibr

the DruKS are paid

Hui^eons.

of the

each Death.

Death.

Expenses of tbo

whole Year.

EstabUabment.

remainder.

£ (. d.

& : d.

£ t. d.

18S4,

M70

IWB

1S3

148 6 6

400 IS

S«8

1830,

8771

IMS

lOS

fiS

lU 4

41S18 1

SOT S

ISM,

a6W

148G

ISS

1S4 6 8

897 » 8i

Ml 8

1887,

IWl

»8

101 18 «

8»8 S 1

S61 IS

Averages,

S6T«

ISU

180 17 8)

401 » 1

869 IS

543

■ V

OHillBEBm INVOBUATIOir VOB THE PEOPLE.

r Th^kraiifKMinual mortality ftmong 9676 of the
'' • popuktiojhTuen promiioaoutly, would be about A3;
wh«reM ne mortklity uuong tha Cormtrj DiapMuuy
pationtt lia#bwn only 93. We muit not suppoie that
the diap«iiMi7 i* wving lire* at the rate of thirty
a year, for much of thii diflerence of mortality muit
be attributed to the circumitance of the member* of
ih<«.inftitution coniiiting almost entirely of the moit
itrugal, industrious, and prudent of the work-people.
Something ought perhaps to be attributed to there
being probably a disproportionate number of adult mem-
bers. " But if we are erer warranted," says Mr Nanki-
irell in a letter to the author, " in ascribing to medical
means the earing of life, most surely are we eo among
<he patients of a self-supporting dispeniary, where the
members have medicul advice at the rery outset of dis-
«aso«<niore promptly perhaps than any other sot of
persons iu the country." '

UINOR ECONOMIC FUNDS.

The Hon. and Rev. S. O. Osborne, of Stoke * icarage,
Buckinghamshire, has published an account [' Hints to
ihe ChariUble.' Price Is. T. and W. Boone, London.]
4>f several small economic funds, which have been
formed in his pirish — a large agricultural one — for the
benefit of the humbler classes, apparently in a great
«neasure by the active and well-directed zeal of the
author himh^lf. They are worthy of notice.

One of these is a Coal Fund. The poor in Mr Os-
bome'c district are generally ill otC for coal during the
winter months; and when the weather is unusually
severe, it is foup ~ necessary in many parishes to sub-
scribe to obtain lor them a portion of that domestic
necessary. In Stoke parish, the poor are induced to
commence in June paying one shilling a week each into
the parson's hands, until twelve shillings have been
paid. Coal is there generally from Is. Id. to Is. 5d.
a bushel ; yet the nuuiagers of the fund undertake that
each person shall have twelve bushels of coal delivered
(0 him, during the course of winter, at his door, free of
all charge (a sack of three bushels being given evvry
three weeks four times). The extra money requir*,d
is contributed by the benevolent people of the neigii-
bourhood. Charity is here partially employed ; but it
is to be remembered that the benefit is conferred upon
a class who might otherwise be entirely dependent in
this respect. Mr Osborne considers it a great matter
that the poor are induced to contribute the larger share
of the funds : their spirit of self-dependence is en-
couraged to that extent. The reverend manager of the
fund endeavours to save a little in good years, in order
to be the more able to succour the poor in bad ones.
The poor complain of this, but he waits patiently till a
bad year comes to show them the good of the system.
In the severe winter of 1837-8. he had £24 in hand.
* We thought the severity of the season such an ex-
treme case, that we ought to do something more than
usual for the poor. Accordingly, we took a part of the
balance, a' id bought 114 sacks of coal, some of which
we ^re away, but sold the greater part at the low ^rice
of sixpence a sack. The poor were thus taught the
advantage of having saved this balance, and we had the
satisfaction of aflTording a most seasonable relief, with-
out begging for a single sixpence from any one.' It
may be presumed that the parties on the coal fund will
be more careful of fuel thus obtained than of that which
it given them for nothiof. 'They can look forward
to the winter,' says Mr Osborne, * with one heavy care
for it removed. When the winter comet, with little or
any addition, the tired labourer may ever find a com-
fortable fire at home to spend his evenings by ; he ii
not forced to go to the beer-shop to wsrm himaelf.'

The Wi/i't Priandly Socitty is designed to enable
married women of the poorest class to have a small
fiind which they can draw upon, to defray the expense
of % Pi^pc' nie<lical attendant at their confinements,
and iunuah some of the comforts required on those
occasibn*. Generally, this clai^t of persons have no
provision for such occasions, and the consequences are

0%%

that they depend on charity, and sometimes sufibr from
the ihdiflbreuce which the midwives in that case em-
ployed are apt to feel where their care is not to be re-
munerated. A poor woman leeomraended to the Wife's
Friendly Society pajys 2d. weekly for a year to the trea-
surer (the vicar's wifn), making 8s. 8d. in all. To this
the society f)n>m charitable contributions adds 2s. lOd.,
making Us. 6d. If she is confined that year, the gets
an order for 10s., which serves as payment for her
medical attendant. The remaining Is. 6d. serves to
ftirnish gruel and other little <■ mforts — a small sum for
such a purpose, but better than nothing. The person
who recommended the membei guarantees that, after
this payment is made, she will continue to pay her
weekly twopenoes till the end of the year. Should no
confinement take place, the money is spent on clothes.
In the case of the Penny Clothing Fund, the propor-
tion of charituble contribution is greater than in any
other of Mr Osborne's schemes. The object is to encou-
rage the poor to exert themselves to furnish decent cloth-
ing to their children. A benevolent perso' ' pitches upon
some child belonging to a poor neighb' . : the patron
and the child each pay Id. weekly into ihe fund ; that
is, 8s. 8d. annually. Some persons take two, three, or
more children under their care. Mr Osborne speaks
of 150 in all his parish b.nng clothed by these means
in one year. ' The bu; ing of the clothing is thus
managed : a linen-draper attends with his shopman on
a given day at the expiration of the year, with a large
supply of all such articles of clothing as the poor most
need for their children ; the school-room is allotted to
him as a shop for the day. In addition to the linen-
draper, we have a psrsou over from a neighbouring
market-town, whose business it is to deal in ready-made
clothing and shoes for boys ; ho has at room adjoining
the school for his shop. Each lady<(the8e clubs are
almost always whollr supported by the female sex) ap-
pears with the children she Las put in, together with
their parents ; they are served in turn, and it is the
lady's duty to see that they have their 8s. 8d. worth
of goods. The pence are received from the children
weekly at the school ; from the persons putting them
in, at the end of the year.' Clothing for children
being one of. the things which the poor, amidst the
various difficulties rhich beset them, are least apt to
provide for, we can well believe that this fund is likely
to do much more good than the practice of presenting
blankets at Christmas — a blanket being an article which
the parent couple feel the want of pressiiigly themselres,
and are therefore eager to provide from their own means.
The Endowment Society for ChUdren is the last of Mr
Osborne's parochial schemes which are different from
those already developed in these pages. The object
here is to make a provision, by small payments, in the
course of a few years, for an event connected with a
child which will make a small sum of money necessary —
as, for instance, to pu*; him (or her) out to service or ap-
prentice him, or to furnish him with tools for his trade
when his apprenticeship is expired. One shilling, one
and sixpence, and two shillings, are the various sums
received, and thev may be for two, four, or six years.
The principle is the same as in a savin>rs' bank, but the
money is devoted to a particular object, and that a
very interesting one, and a stimulus to saving is added.
The managen of this fund place the money collected in
the savings' bank; in the event of the nominated child
dying, another is taken, or the money given back.

For further information on these economic institu-
tions, we refer to Mr Osborne's little volume. It may
be mentioned that he has published other pamphlets
(T. and W. Boone, London) connected with the sub-
ject of this sheet, and all of which seem to us well
worthy of the attention of those who aim at benefiting
the poor by evoking their own best powers in their own
behalf. Politically, socially, or morally, a man can be
said to fulfil his projier function only when he trusts
to his own right arm for the support of himself and
family, and leans upon no one save in the general sense
in wluch mankind are all mutually dependent.

POPULAR STATISTICS.

Statistks is a science of comparatively recent date, but
it is one which promises to be of considerable service
to mankind. Whatever can be ascertained by takiiig
down wimiben and initances, and making aummariei of
them, may be said to be a proper object for this science.
It is usually applied to such matters as the amount
of population, the rate of mortality, the progress of
commerce, manufactures, and agriculture, the increase
or diminution of crime, the state of education, and the
comparative social condition of the several classes
irhich compose any given community. The benefit of
coming to correct reckonings about these matters must
be obvious ; but we shall cite one instance to make it
quite clear. From accounts which have been kept of
the burials in England for the last fifty years, it ap-
pears that the rate of mortality (or number who die
yearly in comparison with the whole population) dimi-
nished regularly down to 1821, but has since then been
a little on the rise ; showing that the condition of the
people at larce (mortality depending on condition) was
improving till that time, but has sinoe been slightly
declining. When such a fact as this is ascertained,
statesmen are put on the alert to discover, and, if
possible, remove the causes. Thus it is seen a nation
may be much benefited by taking a census, and the
keeping of a correct register of deaths. The value of
statistical operations, then, is manifest. Statistics may
(.;a said to be the account-book of a nation for ascer-
taining the condition of its a&irs. One which keeps
no statistical records may be said to be like a merchant
who transacts business without keeping a ledger, or
ever coming to a balance.

Statistics bears in a similar manner upon many of
the interests of private life: of this we trust to be
able to ffive some notable instances in the sequel. It
is one of its least utilities, that it tends to substitute
real and distinct knowledge in many matters for vague
and general impressions. There are many things which,
to the uninstruuted mind, can only be mentioned to
create a feeling of doubt — ^for example, the compara-
tive likelihood of life in men and women. Ask an un-
instructed person whether women or men in general
live longest, and, at the best, he will only be able to
answei Irom some obscure notion in his mind, the re-
sult of a few observations which he has happened to
make. Statistics has ascertained, though only within
the last fourteen years, that female life is better — that
is, of longer duration, than male. Here is a thing
which no individual could ascertain ibr himself, and
about which all was doubt for hundreds and thousands
of years, settled at last by statistics. We have now
the satisfaction of knowing the fact distinctly, instead
of only conjecturing, and perhaps wrangling about it.

On some of these vafue questions proverbial wisdom
is found to have made a conclusion for itself. For
example, this oracle has long been clear, that an open
winter is the most fatal to life, and that more die of
surfeit than of want. Statistics finds both of these, and
many like conclusions, to be exactly the reverse of the
truth. It bos here corrected decided error, which is
better still than giving distinct kiiowiedge where for-
merly thore was only doubt. It is observable of almont
all such proverbial notions, that they appear to have
proceeded upon a principle of contradiction or paradox,
the contradiction neing generally to what is tne most
likely conclusion of the mind upon the subject. For
instance, want see:ns at first sight a more deadly thing
than over-abundance ; but then it is also founa, if we
pcuse and look narrowly, that it is poosible also to die
of cholic and of pampering. The clownish oracle has
the same wish to be novel, original, and striking, which
is 10 much the bane of higher and more aspiring philo-
No. 65.

', and it decides that the most mischief is done by
the Tess obvious evil. To put an end to such modes
of judging, by adducing the undeniable testimony of
fibres, is, we humbly submit, a worthy lerTioe, and
this service is rendered by statistics.

There is one other service which statistics has ren-
dered, of a more remarkable, though perhaps less
directly useful, kind than the above. Almost all the
occurrences which depend on the human will happen
irregularly as to time, as far as an individual is con-
cerned. A man commits some particular crime which
he is not likely ever aeain to commit in his life — for
instance, an assault with violence. It was, to all human
apprehension, the merest chance which brought him
into the circumstances which provoked or prompted
him to commit the offence. Yet, strange to say, there
is no ofibnce so accidental as to individuals, or so un-
likely to occur above once in an ordinary man's life-
time, but what statistics finds it to occur, with the
greatest regularit^r, in a certain range of individuals
and within a certain range of time. The returns of a
particular crime, in such a country as England or
France, are nearly the same for each successive year.
In all classes of occurrences which appear occasional as
to individuals, the same uniformity is observed when
we go to sufficiently large numbers : even in the num-
ber of letters ^ut into the post-office without addresses,
there is a precise uniformity, if we take the office of a
large city, and reckon year against year. Thus to find
an order in the most casual of things, even in the way-
ward and fleeting movements of the mind, aflTords
highly-interesting matter for reflection.

Statistical science has its quicksands and difficulties
as well as its triumphs. Often, when an extensive
range of facts has been accumulated, all, as is thought,
tending to confirm a certain view, there may still be
room to contend that they lead to directly opposite
conclusions, or that they show the presence ..f totally
opposite causes from those presumed to exist. There
is a tendency in those who pursue the science to make
inferences in accordance with their own prejudices, or
to seek only for facts by which these are favoured : on
fact, to pursue the prejudiced system of planting »
theory, and then setting out in search of facts to sup-
port it, instead of the more philosophical method of
first collecting facts from which to deduce a sound and
practical conclusion. Such errors are particularly likely
to be made in subjects where mf.ny causes are pre-
sumedly involved, and which are ^o extensive that it
is difficult to command a general view of them. As an
example, we have only to remind the reader of the
various notions which are usually entertained as to the
causes of any distress which may take place throughout
the country. The higher class <' statisticians usually,
ho«7ever, are cautious in drawing inferences and trac-
ing causes, believing it to be their beat course, in all
doubtml cases, to restrict themselves to the collection
of facts. * We are employ "1,' say the members of the
Statistical Society of London in their Ueport for the
year 1848-49, ' in narrowing the circle within which
the final truths must lie, rather than in an attempt
at once to seize them, in which we should fail, to the
loss of that credit which is due to our exertions.' In
this arduous and commendable labour many indi-
viduals are now engaged: Britain has her Office of
Statistics ; France her Bureau de la Stdtistique Gene-
rale; Belgium herCentralCommission of Statistics; and,
in fact, all the principal states of Europe have now
their central offices in imitation of our o'vn. Without
a sustained effort of this kind, correct data can never
be accumulated ; and without a broad basis of facts,
all attempts at generalisation are worse than useless.

54S

OHAUBEBffS DTFOBUATIOH FOB THB PEOPLE.

BIBTH8.

Froportion of the SexM.

Many millions of observations hare been m»3e Upon
births in the yarious countries of Europe, from which
one uniform result appears, that about 21 bojs are bora
for every 20 girls. The proportion in diffeieut itatea ii

lUT •>•"•-- ^

Hales to

iTATaS AITD PKOyilfCSS.

100

Females.

BukIs, .....

108-01

Tlic province of Milan,

. 107.«1

Mecklonburg, ....

107-07

Franco, .....

. 100S5

Belgium and Holland,

lOOM

Bnuidcnbius and Pomerania,

. 108-J7

Kingdom of the Two Sicilies,

1O0-18

Auttrian Monarchy,

. lOS-lO

Silusia and Saxony,

106-05

Pruislan States len m««e), . . .

. 105-94

>Vostpluilia and Grand Duchy of the Bbine,

10S86

Kingdom of Wurtomburg,

. 105-69

Eiuitem Prussia and Duchy of Posen, .

losca

Kingdom of Bohemia,

. 10538

Great Diituin, ....

104-73

Sweden, .....

. 104-63

Aversge for Europe,

. 106-

Further inquiries haye shown some curious modifica-
tions of the law which seems to preside over this part
of the natural economy of the world. In illegitimate
births, the oyer-proportion of boys ii somewhat less,
nearly approximating in some countries to a par with
the number of girls. ' In France,' says Mr Babbage, ' it
was observed a few years ago, that out of 6,705,778 per-
sons born, legitimate and illegitimate, there are 3,458,965
malef), and 3,246,813 females, or nearly 16 males to
•very 15 females. Out of 460,391 illegitimate chil-
dren, there are 235,951 males, 224,440 females.
From these data it follows that, in France, for every
100,000 legitimate female children, there will be
106,534 legitimate males ; but for every 100,000 illegi-
timate females, there will be bom only 105,128 illegi-
timate males ; so that the probability of a child about
to be born being a female is greater if it is illegitimate
than if it is legitimate.' It has likewise been found that
there is a less orer-proportiun of boys from marriages
in which the husband is the younger party, and in cases
also where bc>th parties are extremely young. If the
husband, therefore, be much the younger party, we ex-
pect his family to consist chiefly of girls ; and the
■ame where both husband and wife are much under
the age of twenty or twenty-one.

The average fruitfulness of marriages is not clearly
ascertained, in consequence of impeiiect registrations;
but it is considered by Mi M'CuUoch to be m England
in the ratio of 4 children to each marriage. The
accounts ot the Registrar - General for the six years
ending 1842 give the proportion as 41*56; this, how-
ever, is too high a ratio, .seeing that it includes ille-
gitimate as well as legitimate births.

Legitimate and lUcgltioiatc Births.
The proponion of illegitimate to legitimate births is
ft point of great importance in political ecoLomy as well
as morality, for illegitimate children are generally n
burthen to the state, and have an inferior chance of
growing up useful citizens. It is also a fact ascer-
tained by statistics, in opposition to common ideas,
that such children have generally less of the elements
of health and vitality than other children. The pro-
portion of illegitimate to other births is — for France, 1
to 12-5; Prussia, 1 to 131; England, 1 to 14; Sweden,
1 to 14'U; the preponderance of morality thus appear-
ing in favour cf the two tatter countries. In cities the
proportions are strikingly different. In Paris, for 28
legitimate there are 10 illegitimate births ; in other
and stricter terms, the latter are in proportion to the
former as 1 to 2'84. In btockholm, from thtt report of
54C

a leoent trayeller, the proportion is 1 to '2'3; that is,
nearly a third of the children born in that northern
capital are illegitimate. In Berlin, the proportion has
increaied, lince 1790, from 1 to 9 to 1 to 6.

BtiU BIrtbii.

The proportion of dead-born to live-bom children is
found in European cities to be about 1 in '20, but in the
country not above half that amount ; showing apparently
that rural life is most favourable to the healtli of \y>nieu
during pregnanqr and to successful parturition. It is
worthy of remark, that more male than female children
are still-born ; the proportion in Western Flanders has
been found as 14 to 10, and the same result appears in
some other countries. At Qottingen, in 100 births, 3
were of legitimate, and 15 of illegitimate children.

Eflbcts of Scarcity.

Times of scarcity and privation tend to reduce the
number of marriages, and also of births, though eene.
rally not immediately. The great scarcity which oc-
curred in England at the commencement of the present
century, occasioned a diminution in the number of
marriages to the extent of about 18 per cent., as com-
pared with the previous years of abundance. In the
Netharlands, wheat was at 9*56 florins per hectolitre in
1816, and the births in the year 1818 had sunk, from a
previous higher number (195,362 in 1815), to 183,706:
in 1819, wheat had fallen to 372 florins per hectolitre,
and the births, two yean thereafter, rose to 210,359

WABBIAOES.

The number of marriages per annum in proportion
to the population, and the ages at which marriages take
place in both sexes, form interesting subjects of inquiry.

In England and Wales, the number of marriages re-
gistered was 111,481 in 1837-8; 121,083 in 1838-9;
and 124,329 in 183.9-40. The number is believed to
have been less in the first of these years than it other-
wise would have been, in consequence of a popular error
which induced parties to hurry on their nuptials before
the commencement of the operation of the registration
act. Taking the two latter years against each other,
we find an increase of 3246 marriages upon the latter;
but this is liable to a reduction of 1700 on account of
the increase of population; so that, on the same number
of people in 1838-9 and 1839-40, there was an increase
of marriages, strictly, of about 1500. While there was
thus an increase u])on the whole country, the greater
portion of the manufacturing districts in the west of
England, where at tiiis time commercial difficulties
existed, showed a decrease, amounting in some districts
to 6 per cent.; and in Manchester and Salford to no
less than 12 per cent.

In England and Wales, the proportion of marriages
to the whole population seems to have been diminished
during the last fifty years. It is calculated that, in the
period 1796-1800, {here was 1 marriage annually to
every 123 persons; in the period 1816-20, 1 for every
127 persons; in the period 1826-30, 1 for every 1-28.
This seems to be nearly its present proportion.

Some years ago, Mr Finlaison made a calculation of
the ages of women at the time of their marriige from
an assemblage of 878 cases, which was too small for
very satisfactory results. Enlarging the number to
1000 for the sake of arithmetical distinctness, he found
the following to be the various ages at marriage : —

Aoa.

Aea.

14 to 15, '.

»i

88 to 29, .

16... 17,

. 101

.10 ... ,11,

. 18

18 ... 1», .

Sl»

SJ ... ,1,1, .

SO... SI,

. m

M ... «,

. . 9

M...25, .

101

86 ... j;, .

S6 ... S7,

. 60

38...%,

. 1

A calculation upon which moie dependence may be
placed was made by the Registrar-General, utwn tbn
basis of lu,01!) marriages which occurred in diflerent
parts of England in 1U3H-9, reducing the proportions
to 10,000. The following table gires the results ;—

POPULAR STATISTICS.

Hen.

Wooioii*

1838-9.

.ACMk

Bachelors.

Widowers.

Total.

Bpinsten.

Widows.

TotaL

Men.

Woman.

IS and under iO, .

i»

...

2?9

1318

1816

827

1416

» tt.

4099

8046

S»t8

6080

S!20

S201

SB . . ... 80, .

»»7

170

2667

1879

120

1990

28S7

1772

aO 88.

764

976

£68

188

726

819

689

IS 40, .

862

191

4S3

132

876

481

888

40 46,

113

167

380

108

138

S46

822

276

4S 60, .

114

180

212

187

60 66.

118

144

66 80, .

«0 66,

66 70, . .

*.-.

70 76,

78 80. .

*••

80 85,

...

Totals, .

8883

1187

10,019

9238

781

10,019

10,000

According to the preceding table, tlie aTerage age
of marriage in England is — ^for men, 27*4 years ; for
women, 25'5 years. It prcienti, upon tlie whole, a fa-
Tourable riew of the prudence of the English people as
to marriage. Only 2'3 per cent, men, and 13 per cent,
women, are wedded under the age (legal nou-age) of
20. About one-half of both sexes are married between
20 and 26. Only about three-fourths of a per cent, of
first marriages are contracted by either men or women
after they reach the age of 44.

It! seems to be clearly ascertained, that the tendency
of the sexes to marriage is liable to be modified by a
number of conditions. Abore a certain point in educa-
tion, comfort of circumstances, and respectability of
position, the tendency diminishes, and we see men and
women of the middle and upper classes living con-
tentedly in celibacy, from a dread of the increased ex-
penses of matrimonial life. Below that point, the ten-
dency increases, from opposite causes. It is obserrably
more powerful amidst a dense operative population
than amongst a scattered one, and it reaches its extreme
in the half-destitute class, however otherwise circum-
stanced. Statistics affords us some information re-
specting two widely - separated parts of the earth, one
of which is remarkable for early and numerous, and the
other for rare and long -delayed marriages — Glasgow
and the parish of Montreux in Switzerland. In Glas-
gow, the marriages were, in 1839, in the proportion of
I to 112 of the population; and this latio vises much
higher in unusually prosperous years, as, for i-^itance,
in 1825, when it was 1 in 84. Mon^Teux h ' i" small
a district to afford basis for a calc:;lation of .. j kind ;
but the people, who are all small labouring pr. prietors,
are remarkable for postponing maniage to a lal') nge,
the average ages of men and women being .3(1 and 26°75
respectively. In Montreux, the births avt as 1 to 40
of the population, and the deaths a'' ' iu 75, both un-
commonly favourable proportions. > .jio of Glasgow
will be found very different. It seems incontestable,
indeed, that a multiplication of marriages in most
situations is attended by an increase of mortality,
and particularly an increase in the mortality of the
young during the first years of chiMhood, We trust
we may here venture upon a fen general remakks
uf a social tendency with respect to marriage amongst
the industrious orders.

It is a familiar saying among the industrious orders,
that ' the mouth never comes without the meat for it;'
by which they encourage themselves to marry, or con-
sole themselves when, having married, they find their
family increasing upon them more rapidly than they
can well see how they are to provide for it. This fal-
lacy has been in some measure brought to the test of
figures. Dr James Philips Kay, an aasistant Poor-Law
Commissioner, institutnd in the year I83& an inquiry
into the actual income of agricultural labourers in the
counties of Norfolk and Suffolk. Hetunis to the cir-
culars which he issued for this purpose enabled him to
make the following abstract of the annual earnings of
589 familie* :—

Average annual
income.
£26 1 4)
30 13 lOi

32 13 2

38 9 n{

40 10 1

45 11 H

80 18 6

36 single men, ....
64 married men, with no children at home, .
166 married men, with 2 7-8thB children, all

under 10 years of o«e,
120 married men, with 3 7-lOths children, 1 of

whom above 10 years,
92 married men, with 4 9-10th8 children, 2 of

whom [.bove 10 years,
44 married men, with 8} children, 3 of whom

above 10 years, ....
15 married men, with 7 children, 4 of whom

above 10 years,
1 marrii:d ;ian, with 8 children above 10 yean, 42 13
I married man, with 6 children above 10 years, 82

The first ijuestion suggested by this table is — How
much of the mcreased income of the men with families
was owing to their working more steadily, from ii sense
of their families being dependent upon them I and how
much to the earnings of their wives and children flow-
ing into the common stock? This does not directly
appear, but the returns afford means of arriving pretty
near the truth by calculation. Out of the 539 male
A ^ads of families, 475 earned annually by daywork
£7382, 5s. 2d., which gives the average annual earnings
of each man by this means at £15, 10s. lOd., or within
a fraction of 6s. a week. The earnings by taskwork
are specified in 350 cases, and amount in all to
£5018, 17s. 7d., which gives the average earnings of
each man by this means at £14, 68. lOd. annually, or
5s. 6d. a week. There are enumerated at least 286
cases in which the labourer obtained earnings in both
ways; but it would give too high an average to add the
two sums together. We are enabled to approach to
the truth in another direction, by deducting the amount
of earnings said to be made by women and children
from the average incomes of the families. The sum of
all the annual earnings of all the families (counting
each single man as a family), in the table given above,
is £19,129, 168. 5d. ; and this gives an average annual
income of £35, 10s. The men are stated to have earned
on sn average £5, 8s. by harvest work, in addition to
their regular wages : the average earnings of wives la^t
about £2, 12s. 7d.; of children able to work, £8, Is. 1 Id.;
and the value of gleanings by the younger children is
£1, Is. lOd. Deducting these sums from the average
family income, leaves £17, 4b. 4d. for the average an-
nual earnings of the man by ordinary task ana day-
woi'.^i and this, wheri we take Into consideration the
number of men, and the amount earned in the year by
these routine kinds of labour, seen)» by no means an
improbable estimate. This £17, 4s 4d. added to the
£5, 8«. of harvest wages, gives £25, I2s. 4d. as the ave-
rage annual earnings of a man (78. 3d. per week), or
only 138. more than the average earnings of the un-
married men ; from which we infei- that the additional
income of the married men is derived / m the labour of
their wities and children.

Deducting the earnings of the unmarried men from
the whole amount, and dividing the remainder by

547

OHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATIOK FOB THE PEOPLE.

the number of roamd men, we get an arerage ot
^36, 78. 2d. for the annual earnings of each married
man and hif family. But whereas the £25, Is. 4id.
is allotted ezclusirely to t'. ^ maintenance of one per-
son only, the income of £36, Ts. 2d. has to provide for
an kTerage of 6-5 penons. Unlen the married man
can support a wife and 3*5 children upon £11, 58. &^.
per annum, he must dispense with luxuries, comforts,
U may be conTeniences, in which the unmarried man
can indulge. A' ' the arerage income is raised to this
height bv taking into account those families which,
hari:.j three, four, five, and six children aboTe ten
years of age, have an average income of about £45
per annum. To reach this highest grade, even they
must have passed through years of greater pinching,
when their children were growinc old enough to take
care of themselves and earn a little. The mill through
which they have been ground may be conceived by
taking into account these facts. The average annual
earnings of a wife with no children were £3, 8s. 9d. ;
of a wife with 2| children under 10 years f age,
£2, 98. 10^.; of a wife with 3^', children, one above
10, £2, lis. 73d.; of a wife with 4x'b children, two
above 10, £2, 5s. 7id.; of a wife with 52 children, three
above 10, £2, 19s. Id. ; of a wife with 7 children, four
above lU, £2, 3s. lOd. From which it appears, that a
woman with a family is only able to earn about two-
thi.-ds of what a woman without that encumbrance
can earn. The earnings of the children also fall to
be taken into acoount. In families with 21 children,
none of whom were above lii years of age, the average
annual earnings of each child were 15s. 3jd. ; in fami-
lies with 3y', children, one of them above 10, the
average eamingri of each child were £1, Is. 9^i.; in
families wi(h 4,''j, children, two above 10, the average
earnings of each child were £1, 138. ; in families with
5| children, three above 10, the average earnings of
each child were £2, 2s. 5^d. ; in families with 7 chil-
dren, four above 10, the average earnings of each child
were £2, 17s. 8d. An additional head of income must,
in strict accuracy, be mentioned — namely, the value of
corn gleaned by the childisn. As might bo expected,
the amount increases with the number of children ; but
as the age of the latter does not much affect their
ability to glean, the increase is very gradual, and of
small amount : —

VALVB or CORN OLBANBD.

Average 'innurJ
Familieii. amount to each Fnmily.

4S withnorliildron, £0 17 lOi

no with i 7-(*thg, all tho childrun under 10, . 18 7|
97 with 3 Y-IOths, one child above 10, . . I «{
M with 4 910tb«. two children abovi- 10, . 1 B «J

.17 with S3-4thi<, three children abovi' 10, . 1 9 fij
13 with 7, four children above 10, . . . 1 (i 9J

These figures demonstrate that the mar.ird la-
bourers incurred in general an additional amount of
expenditure, which their additional income by no means
compensated. The kind of expense incurred by the
married men, as well as the amount, is different —
childbed outlay, education of children, and the in-
creased chances of sickness as the numbers of a family
increase. It must be remarked, too, that the cases
selected to illustrate this point are, in so far as the un-
skilled Inb ircx-s <if the country are concerned, favour-
able circumsiarcefli. Of the 539 families enumerated,
397 had gardens (averaging 19^ rods); 136 bed some
fuel free ot charge; 259 hid eaih a pie; and 20
eacli a donkey. The average of their bonse-rent
(£3, 1 is. 4^d.) did not rise above the average level
throughout the countnr; while in a rural district pro-
visions are cheaper than in towns. Above all, the en-
grossment of their parents- attention by labour was not
so I'aiigeraus for the childi-en as in densely-populnted
tovms, where, when left at al! to themselves, they are
in constant dancer of falling in with instructors in
crime, a«»d are placed in n situation whe/e greater op-
portunities present greater temptation. If, then, among
individual! who, for the class to which ihsy belong,
54 IJ

may be considered in easy circumstances, marriage be
a step which must render increased exertions and self-
denial necessary, what must it be for those who are in
more difficult circumstances I Let the experience of a
committee appointed in Glasgow in 1837, to afford re-
lief to the industrious poor in a season of severe pres-
sure, answer the question : —

Out of 3072 adult males who applied for relief and
were furnished with work, 2273 were married. The num-
ber of the children of those married applicants was
6302, or nearly 3 children to each family. No less than
532 of those married men were under 30 years of age :
of thd children, 3994, or nearly two-thirds, were under
10 years of age. Of the 2273 married men, 2171 were
weavers; and the account given by Mr Charles Baird,
in a paper read before the Statistical Society of London,
in February 1838, of the condition of thai; class even in
times of no extraordiuaiy pressure, may serve to show
with what prospects they haa rushed upon the hazardous
responsibilities of marriage : — ' The great bulk of the
weavers in Glasgow and its suburbs,' says he, ' are in
extreme poverty. Their wages which, even in 1810, were
as low as 128. gross, or 10s. 8d. .-.ett (the deductions
being for loom-rent, winding, &c.), now average only
88. 4d. gross, or 78. nett per week ; and even for this
miserable pittance thuy are obliged to work from 14 to
.' 6 hours per day. Their houses, which are generally
M, 'be suburbs, are of the poorest description, barely
fuiuiblied, and the food and clothing of the inmates,
ns might be expected, not only of the plainest descrip-
tion, but also quite inadequate.' It is apparent, that
they who, in the best of times, can barely procure a
Bulwistence by 14 or 16 hour's of daily toil, must, by the
slightest and shortest stagnation of trade, be reduced
to destitution, and, under such circumstances, to incur
the charge of i; family is madnesj.

This is a consideration which has cf late betn much
urged upon the poorer classes — not always, it is to be
feared, in the most judicious manner. Leaving out of
view that the deductions of Malthus (see Populatio.\,
No. 83), whose disciples have been the most busy in
giving this kind of advice, aie based upon statistics
remarkable both for vagueness and inaccuracy, and
tainted by the polemical bias of his mind when he first
published them, the form in which they have generally
been submitted is of all others the least calculated to
make an impression upon uneducated minds. Abstract
reasoning, geometrical and arithmetical ratios, convey
no tangible ideas calculated to influence their conduct;
and the subordinate discussions into which some of
these philosophers are fond of diverging, repel by in-
spirioff disgust. Advice may be sound, however, al-
though It be given in an uncouth form and by un-
amiable persons. In regard to improvident marriages,
the industrious poor would do well to consider.

Marriage has its attractions, and, what is more, its
moral advantagea. It is the only institution which re-
conciles with the stability and good order of society one
of the strongest impulses of our nature. If it add in
some degree to a man's expeiiditure, it repays him by
conferring blessings unattainable without it. The un-
married man is isjiuted; the married man, if ordinarily
well-conducte(),ha« a permanent hold on the affections
of a portion of his fellow-creatures. A .;udicious selec-
tion of a helpmate ensures Iiim comforts at home which
no price could otherwise secure for him. If he act
wisely, he will find his family affections the betit of moral
te&cberb. The state of marriage is honourable, and is
desirable. And now let us turn to the considerations
which every man, properly desirous of entering such a
Htate, ought to weigh duly beforehand : — It is mainly by
her domestic industry that he ought to expect his wife
to contribute to bis comfort — by her judicious aid in
making what he earns to go as far as pocsible. KUn may at
first have some timo to spare for vuniing, but when a
family comes upon her, that and the household together
will lake up by far the grcRtest part of her time. Chil-
drei< must lor a time le a mere draft upon his industry.
Great and just complaints i)£ve been raised uf the ex-

POPULAR STATISTICS.

CM, marriage be
lertions and self-
tho8e who are in
( experience of a
837, to afford re.
■n of oevere pres-

ied for relief and
arried. Tlienum.
1 applicants wag
ily. No less than
SO years of age :
liirda, were under
i men, 2171 were
li- Charles Baird,
looiety of London,
thaiii class even in
nay serve to show
pon the hazardous
;reat bulk of the
' says he, ' are in
iveu in 1819, were
b (Che deductioMg
now average only
md even for this
) work from 14 to
lich are generally
escription, barely
g of the inmates,
I plainest descrip.
; is apparent, that
barely procure a
toil, must, by the
trade, be reduced
mttances, to incur

;f late be»n much

always, it is to be

•. Leaving out of

I (see Population,

the most busy in

)d upon statistics

inaccuracy, and

[lind when he first

ey have gencially

east calculated to

minds. Abstract

cal ratios, convey

Qce their conduct;

which some of

ging, repel by in-

nd, however, al-

form and by un-

vident marriages,

consider.

what is more, its

titution which re-

der of society one

ire. If it add in

it repays him by

tout it. The uu-

tuan, if ordinarily

on the affectioDs

L,;udiciou8 selcc-

rts aC home which

him. If he act

the betit of moral

onourable, and is

he cunsiderations

entering such a

— It is mainly by

o expect his wife

judicious aid in

:s!')le. f-lliomayat

ning, buti when a

Dusehoid togetiicr

f her tUna, Chil-

pon hit! industry,

raised of vhu ex-

treme labour exacted from infanti in factories. Orant-
ing that the employers of such infants are culpable —
what are their parents! The father who allows his
child to be precociously employed in labour beyond its
powers, calculated to destroy it physically and morally,
and render all its future life one long disease, is con-
oenting to the crime. There is no legal pressgang to
sweep children into factories. A conscientious man,
who contemplates marriage, will take theie facts into
consideration, and ask himself whether his position and
prospects are such as entitle him to expect to be able
to support a wife and children as they ought to be sup-
ported, for a number of years. He must estimate tiie
possible earnings of hia irfe at a very low figure — as
something that may at times crinble them to indulge in
an extra luxury, but not as contributing to the neces-
sary household expenses. He ought to assume that
his children, before their tenth year, will earn nothing,
and that for some years after their earnings will r*aoui>\'
to a mere trifle. The sources of 'ais income being thus
ascertained, he must next look his expenses fairly in
the face. It is a duty he owes to himself and society
to aim at procuring for himself a sufficient allow-
ance of nourishing food, comfortable clothing, the
means of preserving cleanliness, so requisite to health,
and weather-tight, well-ventilated lodgings, with the
necessary fuel. The same oomforts which he aims
at for himself, he becomes bound to procure for her
whose time after their union ought to be mainly
directed to caring for the comforts of him and his
children. And for those children he is bound, by every
natural feeling, to provide while they are unable to
provide for themselves, in such a manner that they
shall start upon life with hale constitutions and a fair
elementary education. From his knowledge of his own
expenses as a bachelor, and from what he can learn of
the expenses of his married neighbours, he can form
a tolerably near estimate of what marriage is likely to
cost him. He must take it for granted that unforeseen
accidents are more likely to occur in a family consisting
of two, three, or four, than in a family consisting of one;
and on this account ought not to venture on tnc mar-
ried state unless he or his intended has some little
stock of sparings laid up in the ev nit of contingencies.
This being provided for, he must next take into account
whether his earnings can cover the certain steady out-
lay of a family, and deposit a trifle at intervals in the
savings' bank ; and whether there is a fair prospect of
their continuing to increase, and at least not to fall off.
If every prospect is favourable, he may take the step ;
if not, he incurs the almost certain danger of reducing
himself and his family to a state ^ destitution — of in-
creasing by his rash act the number of sufferers in so-
ciety — of adding to the number of that class which is at
once miserable in itself and the cause of misery to others.
When we ask all who have not a reasonable prospect
of being able to rear and instruct a healthy family to
abstain from marriage, we only ask of them to consult
their own happiness ; the benefit o*" heir abstinence
will be reaped by society at large as well as themselves;
the bad effects of their rashness will be felt by society
as well as themselves, but the deepest, bitterest dregs
of the harsh draught will fall to be drained by them.
We only ask them to submit to a necessity which it is
in vain to struggle against. If they ask why they are
to deny themselves a gratification which they see
others indulge in, the answer is, for the same reason
that they forego many other pleasures they may wish
for, but cannot earn by honest industry. Marriage
i^ a fruitful source of happiness when judiciously set
about ; but, like all other goods uf this life, it must be
earned, and those who are not in a condition to eara it
(whether for want of employment or want of ability),
ought in conscience to forego it. To rush blindly ui)Oii
the cost of marriage, without forethought, encouraging
their rashness by such j^roundless remarks as, ' Wiieu
God sends mouths he sends meat,' is not even to suatch

them than of a blewing. A bachelor ttate may bs len
happy than a good marriage, but it ii better '/hau a
raah one, which precipitates all parties into dp'..itution.
It is the more neceuary to impren the importance
of the lewon, 'Learn to abstain,' because it is the most
difficult to practise, on account of the strength of the
impulse to be overcome, and the weakness oi those sub-
jected to it, from its reaching its intensest power at
an age when the judgment is yet immatured and ex-
perience empty : and also because rash marriages are
the great promoters of a destitute, and consequently a
demoralised, unhealtLv, and miserable population; and
'ii«tcause the man who has taught himself, by struggling
agfunst inclination, to make his instincts bend to his
reason in this matter, has strengthened himself to
resist almost any otiter temptation. It is men (and
women too) who know how to earn and how to practise
self-denial — who know what it is to appreciate plea-
sures, but are able to reconcile themselves to abstinence
— in whom inclination and will are under the control of
judgment and reflection — who constitute the sound and
useful portion of society. In proportion as this class
preponderates, will it be possible to keep the healthi-
ness and morality of the community at a high average.

DEATHS.

A human being born with a sound constitution is
calculated to live seventy years or upwards, under
favourable circumstances ; but, '.s we well know, all of
us are surrounded more or less by circumstances unfa-
vourable to life, by which, practically, our term of years
is liable to be greatly shortened. Existence, as to dura-
tion, is proverbially the most uncertain of all things ;
and this because, from ignorance, incautiousness, and
accidents, life is constantly comint; into collision with
the conditions calculated to destroy it. The conditions
unfavourable to life come into operation, we have seen,
before the human being has seen the light. They con-
tinue in operation throughout the whole of its ap-
pointed period; so that, out of any large number bom,
a certain proportion die in the first year, a certain pro-
portion in the second, the third, and so on, until all are
gone — only a certain comparavively small number at-
taining the full age which nature promises to sound
life maintained in favourable circumstances.

The conditions necessary for healthy and protracted
existence are institutions of Almighty wisdom ; they
are briefly enumerated in the article Preservation of
Healtu (No. 45), to which we refer. They vary in
different countries, according to climate, civUisation,
and political arrange ments; and, as necessarily follows,
are different in the same country in different ages.

Table of Mortality for England.

During the eighteen years from 1813 to 1830, there
were registered as buried in England and Wales
3,938,496 persons, of whom 1,942,301 were females.
Tho ages of all these peisoiis were, as far as possiblCy
ascertained and stated; so that it was possible by these
means to ascertain the rate of mortality at the different
ages, for that period, and in that country. The table
consequently formed is given at the top of next page.

It appears Irom this table, as it has done from others
constructed in other countries, that while the births of
males to females is as about 21 to 20, the deaths are in
an opposite relation ; that is to say, female life in gene-
ral is of lorgest duration.

Mot ^allty at Various Ages, and Expectation of Life.
T'le great mortality of the early periods of life is very
remarkable. One-fifth of the whole of the children born
in England and Wales, appear from the above table to
die in'their first year. (A Belgian table repre-sents no
less than a tenth of the entire mortality as taking place
in the first vionlti of life.) The disproportion between
the deaths of males and fomales, appears also to be
gseatest under the fourth year : a fact which confirms
the common remark as to its being more difficult to rear

a pleasure they have not had it in their power to earn, I boys than girls, and which, it may_ further be observed,
for such inconsiderate matches have more of a curse in 1 is in harmony with the disproportion of still births.

649

OHAIIBBBM mOBHinOV fOK TBB PIOFLB.

Aa..

lUlM.

VMMlM.

Bodi.

M*-

lUlM.

TmMlm.

Botli.

*§»■

1U)«.

Vtmiint.

Both.

Vmtm'i

18,M0

17.104

18.011

80,008

14.001

48.617

mjn»

Mi,in

T?I,«M

10.088

10.008

80,080

!^!i!

14,170

17.410

r«r. 1

11,411

14.071

».0O8

10.081

17.011

U.1O0

1 '

1».M

ir,on

IW,4M

'••S!

11.480

ai.si7

U.078

U,711

10.701

T«.IU

70,000

104.014

1>.1H

Il,66<

14,988

10,010

18.4n

84,807

•

4
»
t
1

•

4T,aM

MJN

1»,I7«
19.M7
1I,8M

M,77l
•M7«

1I,M0
18.001
U,M8
ll,l«t

04,811

61.760
08.101
87,417
11,110

M,10B

U,0ll

11.001
11.638

14,0a

11,IM

11.101

00,600
14,930
14.716

•6
87

18,140
8,804

7.070

u.in
io.a7

8.480

10,481

19.191
10.000

11.801

13,110

17,011

0.701

8.818

10,087

11.101

11,486

11.180

4.408

0.637

10,100

•

M,<71

11,170

11,041

17,468

10,000

88.017

4,040

6,0M

11,171

It
11
If
»

IMM
10,441

0,118

10,017
0,777
0.800

10,M1

18,117
M,£U
10,706
10,040

10,701
14,044

10,110
11,878

10.911
18.410

91
91

I.MI

1,080

8,007
1,007

0.100
4.000

«l

18,000

11,060

10.000

1.008

0.008

U.14B

18,140

10.494

1.100

1,000

%»u

IO,MO

11,700

»,870

U.Nt

16,«I0

81.011

I'S

1.000

10,006

11,017

»,fltl

U,70S

14,000

W,1M

710

1.101

1.807

11,180

11,717

10,111

14.067

11.000

I7,«6S

404

840

1,140

1},MI

14,111

16.780

14.187

11.414

17.701

410

708

1,134

U,l»

14,008

10,110

18.470

11,801

10,781

107

490

761

M,144

I0,0«

I1,M0

i"^

11,880

11,418

U.I78

100

468

707

U,U8

1«,«4I

81,186

13.0U

11,001

ie,«84

101

131

ISO

108

1B,8ZI

1«,137

11.071

16.608

16.2SI

11.940

101

174

I«,188

17,007

m,78S

18.631

18.181

18.918

103

134

197

I4,8W

16,808

81,603

«4

17.761

17,610

10,100

104

131

14,S1S
14,«0

11,783

ii,m

11,778
11,100

16,7M
16,8WI
16,118
16,1U
16,171
14,431

81.137
M.IS0
10,103
W.706
10.000
16.680

60
66
67
68
00

18.911
10,160
10.308
18,310
16.810

18.713

IO,SJ:;

ir? -•«»
16,111

17,634
40,491
18.870
86.611
I3,(«8

100
106
!I07

ira

100

19
17
13
10

71
19
11
18
11

101
4f

M
»
18

M
tl

n
II

i4,ni

10.S38

ia.so7

11,400
1I,60«

16,014
11,861
14,417
14,M7
11,170

11.017
11.301
17.014
16.636
14.884

70
71
71
78
74

16,187
16,008
11,080
10,061
80,601

17.766
16.104
11.868
11.86I
11.161

es,m
8i.ie I j

41.053

'! 1.910
41^10

no
111
111

HI
114

11
8
1
1
1

1
1
1

11,741

10,100

18.041

11.936

iSMli

44,<^

117

11,114

14,900

18.184

19.000

lil.&ll

40.117

118

11,878

11,400

1£.181

11.011

11,840

41.807

119

11,810

14,168

16.787

19.S95

11,030

40,610

110

11,I«7

11,611

13,778

10.076

16,431

88.000

114

From a t«bl« of mortalitr, a calculation if eaiily mitde
with ngard to tKe mobabie duration of the life of anj
penon. The calculation if made, with regard u> any
particular tge, by adding up, in a table of mortality, all
the deathf i^ter that age, and dividing the mm by the
numben liring at that age. The quotient if the expec-
tmtion nf lift of a penon of that age. A table of the
expectation of life, for eervice in life-atsurance and
annuity buoineM, if formed bv doing thii with regard to
erery age, and puttii | the whole in proper tucceftiou.
We here pieeent fuia a document, formed from the
above mortality tablii, but only fhowing the expecta-

Agc.

X!n»tr lynx,
lymt.

...

10 ...

10 .

SO .

ss .

80 ..

30 ...

40 ...

4S ...

00 . .

00 ...
Of)

«6 ...

70 .

70 . .
86

SO .

90 ..

M ...

100 ...

Sums of OK**,
450

HiUon Tontine
0{ 1695.

Expcctn.
Males.

87-61

88-49

39-03

ii-n

31-00

19-34

17-90

18-17

S4-12

SI -74

1910

16-86

14-01

11-68

V-IO

7-19

0-61

4-91

8-58

1-01

1-18

0-00

Expectii.
Fcmalos.

m-68

43-80
41-44

40-43

37-81

84-10

81-67

£8-98

S6'3S

83-60

10-61

17-78

15-46

13-10

10-11

7-79

0-56

3-70

3-80

^04

I'M

0-00

Parish lUgiiten,
lbl3-1830.

Expcctn.
Males.

39-96

47-78

49-80

46-83

43-08

39-60

86-00

33 34

30-01

S6-73

13-48

10-31

1719

14-20

11 -(3

8-94

6-78

0-00

3-83

3-4S

3-06

1-78

41137

474-30

Kxpcctn.
Fenuilea.

43-10

00-14

01-S9

' --SO

.u8

40-68

87-64

84-63

81-01

S8-S8

10-14

11 '83

18-51

15-S8

12'.12

9-«i

7-33

0-46

4-12

1-70

S-11

2-72

495-70

tion at erery fifth year; joined to which if a f imilar
tal>le formed from tUe Million Tontine of 1695, and
indicating yery cIchIt the improvement of life in Eng-
land dimng the laot hundred years : —

OifsabeSi

Of the opecifio eausea of viiortality, it is difficult to
procure anywhere a proper eftimato, on account of the
imperfe.;tion of most gytiems of registration, and parti-
cularly the want of precision and unifcrmitjr in naming
various diseases. The system of registration now es-
t'^blished in England is conducted upon enlightened
principles, and appears to have hitherto been managed
irith ^eat reganl to correctness. It has enabled itn
able director, Mr Farr, to draw up mtj minute and
comparatively satisfactory tables of the fatality of
diseases in England and Wales for several recent ye.ars.
Tho ref^istered deathf of 1838 were 342,529, of which
r/5,044 wero of roalen, and 167,485 of females. The
causes of death were assigned iu 330,559 ins'ancea ;
assuminc that the other cases might be distributed pro-
portionally among tbe assigned causes, a table was coc-
stmctt J, of which the following is a summary :—

No.

nicMueit.

VUi^

Females.

Epidemic, Endumic, uml ContAKieus

Dliiea«t»

!«-360

20'71u

,_ , ., Bmall-Pox,

0-1S5

4'710

Including j^^„,_ • . , .

5-S06

6'B«1

["Of tho Norvoiut Syitem,

16-084

lj>tt9»

Of tbe Knspiralory Organs,

27118

27-830

„

lnr!iidiDj{ Phtkisit.

16033

19'19i

t>f tht! »)rgana uf ('Insulation, .

I'SOJ

-9*3

i \

Of the l>if(oiitive Oi-gsuu,

6-866

6-709

Uf tbe lirinan- Orsann, .

•793

-193

Of the Organ* uf (ienoratlon,

-OflO

1-008

Of tho Or!,iui« uf Locomotion, .

■647

•623

Lof the Ir.ti-truiTiantary avitem,

•158

•099

10.

Of DnoertalA Bi*t, ....

12-974

13-800

11.

Old Age

9-637

ll-il2«

12.

UeaUiti by Tfdleaoe,

0107

S'127

POFDLAB STATISnOS.

FaiaalM.

f4,Ml

u,tn

I7.MI
U,TU

iMn

u,m
ie,ttT

■,Mt
S,81S

e^7

ijtn
».«■

i.sn

1,IU
•46
708
49S

448

Its

174
IM

7S
!»

11
a
1
I

Both.

4MI7
f7,4M
U,105

u,7n

M,S»7

M,4n

1>.1»1

U.SM
1«,(N7
10,100

11.171

cado
ijtw
i,a«

>,iSS9

1,807
1440
1,IH

707

m
lai

101

4(;

18
IB

a
*

I
1
1
a
1

ich if a aimilar
le of 1695, and
t of life in Eog-

it it diffienlt to
I account of the
,tion, and parti-
mit^ in naming
tration now ea-
>on enlightened
} been managed
ha« enabled itu
in minute and
the fatality of
ral recent years.
2,52y, of which
' female*. The
,559 ina'ancei ;
distributed pro-
I, tabic was con-
ttinary : —

Mal.;^<.

Fiinales.

»»-W0

20715

.Visa

4-710

i-im

S'IMl

16-034

lo-»99

!!7-118

S7-8aO

6-0.13

1919<

IMS

■its

s-twe

5-709

■7»a

•19!

•on«

g-008

•617

-62a

•ins

-099

S-974

13-809

9-«37

11-928

ei07

8-197

Th* Imi&j oeonpfttioni of tho oonntijr make % dlf-
fennee in ite fiiTour in the nnonl mortality ; but tbit
appean larger than it raally 1^ in eonwquenoe of the
floeliing of the worn-out and miierable to laige towni,
and the oooaeional reiort of tiolc penoni thither for the
eake of medical attendance, in the couiee of which life
it in manpr inetanoee out ihort. In 1838, out of equal
numben u town and counttr, the doatlu in the former
appeared to be 101,019, and in the latter only 70,410.
nie arenwe of life in the ooontry would thue teem to
be 50, and in the city 87; but if the above modifying
oauiee are taken into account, the diiproportion muit
be deemed ooniiderably leu. Ai migBt be expected,
dieeaeee are of different fatality in country and in
town. Takine limilar amount! of population in each,
Mr Farr found that, for 1*00 in the countice, there were
in the citiei, *by aithma, 8'80; eryiipelaa, -71; con-
TuJeion* and teething, 2*57 ; cephalitia and hydroce-
phalus, !i^41 ; hydrophobia, 2*87 ; pneumonia, bron-
chitii, and pleuriiy, 1*99; delirium tremens, 1'98;
tvphm, 1-88; smaU-poz, 1*78 ; heart diieaae, 1*78;
childbirth, 1-63; lyphilii, l'£9; rhenmatiim, I'fiS;
gout, l-5£; hernia, 1*48; purpura, 1*46; fudden deaths,
1'45; liver disease, l'4fi; hepatitis, I'SS; tetanus, 1*32.
The excess of mortality in cities was of lese amount
in the following cases: — By consumption, 1*24 ; croup,
1*28; violent deaths, 1-17; stone, Ml; mortification,
MO ; malfonnationf, 1'07 ; apoplexy, 1*07 ; heemorr-
hage, 1-02.* Of some other diseases, the fatality was
greatest in the oountiesw The ' mortaUty to VOO in tWe
counties was, in the cities, by paralyeis, '99; dropsy,
•99; jaundice, "99; diabetes, '97; cancer, "92; hydro-
thorax, 88; heraatemesis, 'TJ; debility (frequently pre-
mature birth\ 76; atrophy, 75; scrofula, •46.'

London in. upon the wiiole, bealtiiy for a large city,
the • nuul mortality being 1 in 42 of the population — a
pn 1 it'.on very little above that of England and Wales
(1 iu 46), But the general healthiness of London
is in some measure deceptive. It contains districts
and kinds of population widely different; and the
effects of wealth, spacious accommodations, and com-
parative cleanliness at the west end and in the suburbs,
makes up in a summary for the opposite conditions o '
the eastern parts. Thi is rendered clear by the fol-
lowing statement : —

Annual Deaths g
iwr cent.

Whitechapel, .... 8866 1 in 26

St George'D, Sonthwark, 8S97 1 ... 80

Bemiondacy 81S3 1 ... 3S

St Panvriui, .... J038 1 ... 49

Carabcrwell 19SS 1 ... 52

Hackney 18S8 1 ... S4

It is to be observed that all these results rest, not
n^ii the population as actually known, but as computed
hypotketically from the census of 1831, Their accu-
racy of course cannot be entirely depended on, but
they may be received as good approximations. The
effect of crowding is shown by a table, exhibiting the
mortality, and the number of square yards of space to
each person iu three groups of metropolitan districts.

Mortality

boui Typhus

alone.

349

181

131

Hence wo perceive that typhus is nea ly three times as
fatal in the first or crowded group as in the third or
open one.

Glasjjow is believed to statnl lowest amongst British
cities in point of health, and for somo years its un-
he\lthiness seems to have been steadily on the increase.
In 1831, the rate of mortality r».s 1 in 39 and a frac-
tion; in 1831, it was 1 in 30 and a fraction; in 1838,
1 in 26 and a fraction. In 1821, the deaths of children
under ten years of age in this city were 1 in 76j in 1839,

Square Yards

Annual

to t'uch

Morta-

Person.

lity.

U( group of ten districts, 35

3128

Sd 119

Sif 180

SilO

they were a little nnder 1 in 48. The extreme mortality
of Glasgow is readily acccuuted for by the existence of
a vast norde of miserable people in the meaner and
closer parts of the city. Mr Symons, an Engliah gen-
tleman who had taken pains to make himself personally
acquainted with the subject, states as follows : — * It is
my firm belief that penury, dirt, misery, drunkenness*
disease, and crime, culminate in Glasgow to a pitch un-
paralleled iu Great Britain.' This class becomes a focus
of typhus fever and other pestilential disorders, which
emanate from it to the rest of the inhabitants, and gene-
rally prove very fatal. In 1839, the deaths from typhus
fever alone reached 2180. It may be remarked that sta*
tistical science, which has been cultivated to an unusual
degree in Glasgow, gives an unfavourable view of the
city in a number of respects. In the five years previous
to 1831, the average births in Glasgow were 1 to 29'47
of the population; the burials 1 to 30'91 ; emd the mar-
riages 1 to 105; the respective average numbers for
entire England during the same period being 1 to 37»
1 to 54, and 1 to 129. It thus appears that there are in
Glasgow more marriages, more births, and more dtathi
than in the country generally. In the parish of Mon>
treuz, whore the births are 1 to 46 of the population,
nineteen out of twenty complete the first year of life,
and very nearly four-fifths of those baptised have been
observed to live to receive the sacrament of communion.
A siniilar correspondence between many marriages,
many births, and many deaths, is shown in the returns
from Liveri)ool, as appears from the foUowiug passage
in Dr W. C. Taylor's work, ' England in the Nineteenth
Century : ' — * The site of Liverpool is low, and we regret
that, upon examining the returns of the population for
1841, and comparing them with those of the births,
marriages, and deaths, we should have found such a
startling result — a result not so surprising to us as it
would be had we not seen some of the older returns.
In 1662, the baptisms were 30, and burials 30; in 1700,
OS above, the former 131, the burials 125; in 1800, the
baptisms 3033, burials 3157. The births registered in
1839, when a close approximation to corre<:tness in the
returns took place, were 7128, deaths 7437; in 1840,
with a population of 223,054, the returns showed 9990
deaths to 9925 births. We then went farther, and made
calculations upon a basis every way favourable; for we
applied to the Population Returns 3^1841 the Registrar-
General's return of births and deaths for 1040 iu Liver-
pool, consequently we applied them to nearly the tenth
part of a clear increase more than we oucbc, and the
result, compared with ti>R totality of Engknd exclu-
sively of Wales, made from a table in which thu decimal
surplus population wat deducted from England alone,
gives the f'Jlowing fig-ores : —

Populatioa of aU>
EbaKlund reduced :
to June 30, 1840, [
U.Te?,?.^ . J

Liverpool, 8^,054,

iJirths ti.
Fopuiiitlou.

1 to 31-07

1 ... 22-47

Tioaths to
Poi ulation.

1 to 44-45
I ... 82-82

Marriages

to PopuU-

tioQ.

1 to 1£6<29

1 ... oo-r,

w 2

4-0«
8-6

'Here are starlUug anomalies,' remarks Dr Taylor;
'double the deaths and marriages, and little more than
half thi. number of births [to a mai-riagej, averaged in
the totality of England.'

Effect of Seasons.
Seasons a/Sect mortulity very considerably. We b»Te
already adv«rted to tbe popular notion thi.t a mild
winter is the most fatal to life, and mentioned that it ia
the reverse of the fact. Severe weather iu reality
affects life to a much greater ts^iitcnt, particularly in
some classes of ailments, than could be supposed likely.
One table, prepared from the Belgian registers, shows
a surprisingly gradual decline of mortality as the spring
r .id summer advance, and then an equally graduul in-
crea3e towards the middl>3 of winter, the iuiiuence being
rather more marked in country than in town: —

551

OHAMBEBffS IHlOlllinOH fOB IHl f lOPML

PwtlMr

Utmiht-itutoiata,

Town.

Counti7.

Junarjr, ....

»,8M

110,119

««.««

114,7»

MMab, ....

M.tn

1I«,M4

i£^'* •.'.-.■ .

0I.UI

W.Ht
M,7U

June,. ....

M,60T

84,Mt

July

4S,llt

77,858

Anguit, .

iT.on

71,80*

■Wtomber

M,l»l

aB,ui

OstolMr

«I,M»

M,SU

Novwabar. ....

l»,»08

S».«8S

I>NMnber, ....

U.Ul

M,708

Armtt

81,700

»8,Bil

In 1838, the wuthw at tha commenoenMnt of the
jreer wm more thfta urakllT cold, and in certain olaeiee
of diooMei the mortality of that year in the metropolii
for the diflbrent leaioBi wae ae followi : —

CauiMof'' -«th.

Winter.

Bpring.

Bummer,

Autumn.

Paralyali,

181

138

187

Apoplexy, .

Si99

311

101

146

Aittuiu,

700

233

331

Hydrotborax,

Brodobltii, I'leurUy, (
PneumonU, |

1G99

870

548

list

Influenu,

Diieaws of the Heart, Sic

S73

ISI)

1(7

311

DinbeU-i, .

Dromiy,

801

437

378

408

UortUlcation,

Sudden Deetlu,

S16

1V5

108

146

Old Age, .

I3(j3

9G9

778

98)

The disproportion, it will be obMrred, wai grer.tt^t in
diwasei of the reepiratonr lyttenii which, of cou.ie, waa
that mott liable to be affected.

Effects of Wealth and Clriliiation.

The progress of wealth and oiriUsation takes a pro-
minent place among the conditions either causing or
accompanying a reduction of mortality.

The numMr of deaths that occurred in the city of
London in 1697, was 21,00U; a century later, in 1/97,
the number was only 17,000, notwithstanding the in-
crease of the population. About the middle of last
century, the annual mortality in the same city was as
high M 1 in 20; in 1U30, it waa 1 in 41. Of couree, in
the metropolis of a great nation, an increase in the
number of inhabitants is not necessarily a proof that
the indigenous population is increasing; but the aver-
age of deaths being in London 1 for every 41 inhabi-
tants in 1B30, and the average of registered baptisms
(everywhere in this country less than that of births,
and most uf all in London), being in the same year 1
in every 31, we know that, independent of the increase
from immigration, the population of London has been
steadily augmenting. The statistics of the city of Am-
stwdam present a remarkable contrast to this picture.
In 1727, the annual average of mortality was 1 death
for every 27 iuhabitants; and the average for the twelve
years preceding 11)32 was the same. During tltese twelve
years, tuu, the average of deaths in a year was 733C ;
the annual average of births only 72R2. If during that
period the population of Amsterdam c'.id not positively
decrease, it must have been kept up by immigration.

There is aiiutlier point of difference in the career of
these two cities for a century back. Whilst the wealth
of London has been increasing almost in a geometrical
ratio, the commerce of Amsterdam, and with it the
opulence of the city, has been diminishing. Here, then,
we have two striking examples of an increase in the
mean value of Ufc attendant upon augmented wealtli,
and, i:t the least, a stationary condition of that mean
V <'>ii>.' i.ttendant upon u diminution of commercial prot<-
perity. Tiiu nnaluin- is marked, and not ijurpiising,
6&2

>^wMn Ua fiiitiuMi of eommvnhiM and iudWiduAls i
in both cMwa. opuUn&t (that ii^ the comforts of which
opnliiic* tiven command) has a tandeney to improve
the general health aiMH proloiw life. ThU, however, is
taking but a suMrfldal view of the question; to enable
Qi to turn luvb Juowledgo to aeeount, wamust go more
oletely to work, and examine in what manner the bene-
fioial ohange ia nroduoed. If we do this, there are
facta cfltablTshad by the atatlatioal iAquiriee which have
of Ute yoan been made in Eoiopo (althoni^ the eeieneu
of atatutks can iieaccely be considered aa far advanced
beyond ita mere infancy), which will show us that the
inoi^aaed wealth of a eomi.iuaity ia rather an atten-
dant upon Ha increased health thaa a cause. They ore
both mutually causae and consequences — both the re.
suite of advancing eiviliaation, and both eontributing
to carry on that civilisation to a yet higher pitch. A
recapitulation of some of the most striking circum-
stances either attendant upon, or productive of, the
increasing health of a community, will be found fraught
with useful practical lessons.

The ascertained facts regardbg the rate of mortality
in our own countnr, since tha comineucoment uf the
reign of George III., invite to investigation. * The
annual number of buriala,' says Mr Rickman, in the
|)reface to the Population Returns of 1841 , ' ms coUecteil
in pursuance of the population acts, authorises a satis-
factory inference of diminished mortality in England ;
the average number of burials not differing materially
fh>m the year 17X0 to the year 1815; the first five
years of that period, the lost five years, and the whole
period of thirty-six years, giving the same average re-
sult of 193,00(1 registered burials, the population having
increased 3,3U0,000 in the meantime.' It appears
from a subsequent part of the prefaoe^thilt the annual
mortality in 1780, as near as could be ascertained, was
1 in 34 or 35 of the population; that in 1820 it was 1
in 49. On the other hand, the same authority states —
' The mortality of the inhabitants of England appears
to have sunk to its mmimwn in the decade preceding
the population abstract of 1821 ; and since that time it
seems to have risen as fitst as it descended after the
year 1 800. The census of 1 84 1 gives one death annually
for every 44*5 persons.' According to the Registrar-
Oenerol's reports, the average mortwity in England and
Wales for the sis years ending 1844 was I in 46 —
showing again a slight improvement. The extremes
vary from I in 37 in LaniVMhire, to 1 in 55 in Surrey,
Sutteex, and North Wales.

In general terms, it may be remarked that the com-
mencement of the diminished ratio of mortality is
nearly contemporaneous with those inventions which
coiitriLiuted to give such an increased power to the
productive industry of the nation. The Duke of Bridge-
water and Brindley constructed the Worsley and Man-
chester Canal between 1758-60, and the Liver; ool and
Manchester Canal between 1762-^7. In 1769, vhe con-
nection between Boulton and Watt for bringing' into
play the patent obtained by the latter for iniprovem^ntu
in the steam-engine was formed. In 1775, the pait-
uers obtained from parliament a further extension of
the patent, which shows that -they were then only be-
ginning to reap the advantage of the improvements.
Arkwright obtained the first patent for bis spinning'
machinery in 1769, and his second patent in 1775. I lis
first water-mill was erected in 1771; but five years
elapsed before he began to derive any profit from it.
The influence of these improvements was, from their
commencement, of the most marked kind, and it rami-
fied over the whole country.

By wciuis of these inventions, conveniences and
luxuries were brought within the reach of incomes
which previously could not afford them; and the extra-
ordinary cheapness and goodness of British manufac-
tures, with such advantages, so increased the demand
for them in foreign markets, that the manufacturers
found the supply of labour insufficient. The national
wealth was not only increased, it was diffused through
all classes of society. Increased incomes, the spirit of

rOPtJtAR BTAWSftCft.

rifklnTiFtMaptod nil oUuMt, the kboi\ring-ol«M m well
M> o(n«n, to 1W« more comforUbly ; b«ttw olothad,
houMd, and fed, men became liable t'> fewer diieaMt.

From the mi(idle of the eighiemt.^ century, a iti.
mulMi bad been gWen to the popular intellect, and the
Kngliih were becoming a reading nativn. The mat
inventorii wore themielrei chiefly menvbeire of the
middlt) and humbbr claisea, and the ea.'Ueiit of the
mat miMiufacturen w«< -» lu likewite, 8undi»j *chool#,
book-clubi, and the ditiuRion of newkpapera, w«mi per-
hape amoiigit the moil serrtceabie means of eniight*
ening the people of England during the reign m Oeorge
III. At lait came JotepL Lanoaeter and hit cotenipo-
rarici with their cheap apparatui for the elementary
education of the mfwaec. When we find such nircum-
ttancet accompanying the diminution of mortality in
England, we cannot refrain from luppoting them in
«ome meaiure connecttU.

We deem it, then, tolerably clear that the great pro-
motert of the health of individuali are — inoreaied anlu-
ence, relieving the mind from despondener or haraating
care, and furnishing the means of ch«.'rishmg tho body ;
and iufireased inteQigence, teaching how to derire the
most advantage from this affluence, and laying tli<c
foundation of oabits of judicious self-control; and that
the great promoter of the health of communities is the
extension of these advantages to as many of the indi-
viduals or classes composing them as possible. The
possession of affluence, and the intelligence requisite to
acquire, retain, and use it aright, \a the luain distinc-
tion betweoik what are called ctvilise<i and savaso men.
In the common practice of sinking the indiTidual in the
class — speaking of nations as resembling or contrasted
with nations — we are apt to overlook the fact, that
every civilised nation is not necessarily composeid ex-
chtrnrely of civilised human beings. In every nation,
even in our own, there are many who grow up, live, and
die, unrofiecting creatures of impulse, scrambling day
after day to miatch a precarious livelihood — now gorged, {

more often starved

or man — iu short, s complete snvages as are to be
found among the woods of America or in the bush of
New Holland. The detrimental influence of a nume-
rous class of this kind being left in any society is not
confined to itself. Its existence does not merely lower
tho evera;20 of virtue and comfort in a country by dimi-
nishing the ratio its sum bears to the total of the whole
population ; the c3ntagion extends to the civilised or
comfortable classes, who are, by proximity, brought into
contact with it. From the squalid dens in which this
class congregates, emanate contagious diseases that
penetrate into the dwellings of the wealthy. Its num-
bers compose what an eminent statist has aptly called
'the dangerous classes of largo cities;' the ronkatof
our thieves and housebreakers are perennially recruited
from atuong them. They constitute, in times of domes-
tic contention, the brute instruments of the wicked of
the civilited class. They are a chronic disease in the
social body; and a nation can be healthy only in pro-
portion OH they are diminished in number, or become
humanised by a participation in the comforts of their
more favoured brethren.

The advantages which society has derived from aug-
mented wealth and extended education, may be distri-
buted under three classes, according as they proceed
from great^ ■ facility of procuring phyiical comforts,
owing to their greater abundance, or from the greater
power of contributing to their own enjoyment by regu-
lating their moral conduct, which men derive from in-
tellectual cultivation, or from the union of both these
causes. We proceed to illustrate, by some brief statis-
tical details, the mode of operation in .-^ach of these
three classes : —

The advantages which the whole cc'tmunity derive
from an increase of wealth, and its joune, more effi-
cient application of industry to tb** iiaturaj wealth of
the country, are of two kinds — those in which ol; par-
ticipate, even those who do not exert themselves ; and
those of which individuals acquire a share by their per-

lonal extrtiont. OC ih« iint k!D<l are th« benefit*
rtiulting tnm dr» nagn is town and oountry, Th«
stimulus given by the inventions adverted to at th«
outset has extended to agrienlturt; Mid the eflbrte
which have been made to render land which irai not
productive, or produotive of little, mer* fertiW, hxn
indireotly contributed, to promote thti public health.
The draining of the fen twuntiet on the eaet coMt of
England, hae banished a elost of diseases which were
most dottruotivu in these districts. The feven of Essex
used to b« inferior in virulent«, but scarcely inferior
in fhMjuency, to those of the Pontine manhee. With
the drainage of the marshes of that county these fovcm
have disappeared. * The intennittents,' says Mr Riok*
man, * which, heretofore, under the name of ague, io-
fested the country very extensively (espedaily the feu
distri'.ts), are no longer spoken of.' In the time of
Richardson the novelist, as wo learn from hu pub-
lished correspondence, the scourge visited periodically
even those families which were la easy ciroumttanoes.
The change for the l)etter is of course most manifest
in ^he positively unhealthy districts, but it is expe-
rienced in the diminution of chronir^ rheumatisms,
wherever surface drainage and underground drainua
havo extended. The exertions of the more wealth;;
cluMm in large towns, to promote by sewers and other
aids of public cleanliness their own health and comfort,
has in like roi).nDor indirectly tended to promote the
health and comfort of all classes. There are nooks and
comers in London, inhabited exclusively by the poor,
which are still badly enough off in this respect; but wa
do not, even in them, find * the kennels running blood
two days in every week,' as Dr Johnson has left on
record was the case in Southwark in his day; nor do
we find ' pigs bred and ft>d in the houses or back-sidei
of paved streets,' routed out in droves by the constables
in tho fashionable purlieus of St George's, Hanover
Square, ai was the case in 1761.
The advantages which each individual must acquire

ignorant of responsibility to dod for himself by nis own exertions ore, generally speak-
ing, superior household accommodation, clothing, and
food. Previous to the impetus given to national indus-
try in the early part of the reign of George III., the
following are the ratex of wages which the labouring-
classes of England had it in their power to earn per
week: — Men — In the iron works at Kotherham, 10s,; in
the cutlery and plating trades at Sheffleld, 13s. 6'd.; iu
the cloth manufactures at Wakefield, 10s.; the collier*
in that neighbourhood, lis,; in the manufacture of
cloth at Leeds, 8s. 3d. ; at the alum works at A yton, in
Cheshire, Ts. (>d.; in the lead-mines at Fremingi'ion, in
Yorkshire, 7s. 6d. ; the colliers of Newcastle, l^s. 6d.;
in the manufacture of cottons and checks at Carlisle^
98. ; in the manufacture of stockings, cottons, and Un-
say- woolseys, in the tanneries at Kendal, 9s. 5d.; in the
making of pins and shoes at Warrington, 8s. 7d.; in the '
manufacture of fustians, checks, hats, and small-warea
at Manchester, 7s. Id.; in the potteries at Burslem, in
Staffordshire, 9s. 64.; in the manufacture of piece-goods
at Witney, in Oxfordshire, lis.; making carpets at
Wilten, in Wiltshire, lis.; pins in Gloucestershire),
lis.; says and burying-crape at Sudbury, 7s. 6d.; save
and calimancoes in Suffolk, 5s. 9i.; llanuels and linseys
at Salisbury, Os. Women — In the loce manufacture at
Bedford, 4s. 6d. ; iu the cloth manufacture at Leeds,
3s. ; in the lead-mines at Fremington, Gs. ; in the Ken-
dal manufactories, 3s. 3d. ; in making pins and shoes
at Warrington, 4s. 6d.; making shoes and hats at NeW"
castle, 4s. 6d. Children — In the porcelain and glove
manufactures at Worcester, 'is. 6d. ; of shoes and hats
at Newcastle, Is.; boys in the potteries at Rotherham,
3s. ; boys and girls in the Fremington leod-tnines, Ss.
3d. ; children at Kendal, 28, ; children at Manchester,
3s. od. The medium rate of the wages of manufac-
turing labour was— in the east of Enaiand, 6s. 6d.; in
the south, 98. 4d. ; in th« west. Us. i'he medium rato
of agricultural wages was 8s. in the eastern counties ;
6s. in the southern ; and .58. ICd. i' the western dis-
tricts. These rates were ascertained Dy Arthur Young

563

0H.iMBSB8^ ISfQIICiinOir 10% 9BX PSOPLS.

In Ui toon of irtS MDd ir70. Yvunf Mtim»ieii th«
populatloa of Bngliuid Md WaUt, Ui i 7/ 0, at U^OO.OOO i
of tbwa b« givM 3.H00.000 M tU uuiulMr ongHied In
•KTieultui*— ilM) liiudlorda, witli tliair ftuniliM »nd d«-
ptudMtd. UBOunting to 800,000t and ii>« Lumbw •»•
gM«d in inAuufiM'urM, 9,000,000. Thii, on « rude
MtLiukta, would givf? tho uumbon of the {K<puUtion d«-
pMidmt upon tnn wagM of labour for kubuitoiico, of
tiwt tlmo, at 1«M than 4.000.000, He eitimatea the
Bon-induetriooi poor at AOO.OOO.

The informatioi ven by Mr JollinMr Symou in hie
'Arte and Artiiaii it Home and Abr«a<V publifbed
in IttSO, enablee u* to coDtraat with YouoK't etate-
menta the capability of earning poiwited l>y tM labour-
inf-nleeni of Kugland in our ottu uay : — Mm — In
Manoheeter, a epinaer can earn from '20*, to 2l>». a week ;
• man in the card-room, Ua. 6d. to 17t.; a wearer by
power, from I3ii. to 16i.; by hand, from 7i. to 13a.;
areeee n earn from Sfie. to 30*. ; and mechanic! from
24«. to 96i. The wa|(ec at Sheffield rary from 2.5i. to
95a., and often amount to 40«., for « orkraen in the skilled
departments; in the iron-worka of the Birmingham
dietrict, wagea arerage from 20*. to 30t. for the com-
mon labourert; in the Leede flax-miili, men earn irom
17a. to li>i. a week; in the Olouceaterahire cloth-fiM-
toriea, from 12*. to 14t. In other trades, the average
wages per week throughout England are — iron-fouuder*,
88*. to SOt. ; machine-makers, 26a to 30i. ; sawyers,
34a to 28*. ; oarpenters, 20*. to 25*. ; stone-masons,
IBs. to 22s.; bricklayers, 17a. to 20s.; sp»desmen, 10s.
to 15s.; porters, 14a. to 16s.; colliers, 3a. 6d. a day;
Stocking wearers in Leicester, Bs. 9d. per week. Women
earn per week, at Manchester, as spinners, 10s. to 15s.;
In the card-room, 9a. to 9s. 6d^; wearers by power, 8s.
to 12s.; by hand, 68. to 12a.; iu the Leeds flax-mills,
5*. 6d. to 6s. 6d.; in the Olouccstorshire cloth-fnctoriee,
4*. to 5s. Children can earn in the Manchester facto-
ries from 1*. 6d. (scavengers) to 7s. a week; in tbe
Leeds flax-mills (when nine or ten year* old), 3s. 6d.
to 4s. 'Agricultural wages,' says Mr Symous,'in Eng-
land vary so little, and are so well knowir, that I need
hardly do more than state, that in the Coteawold dis-
tricts, for int.*r><rc«. -td^ttion to which, they earn 3 guineas at
harvmt ih^M-, "t^skv will pay their rent. Women receive
id. a A':Y <t f,-i)ii>r, and 8d. in summer, and Is. in
i^ima o( V i'iV luti L:ir7est. Perhaps these are the lowest
wages paid m DTi« district in England. From 8a. 6d.
to TOs. 6d. wiil '.>i throughout the average wages of the

Eeat bulk of adult male agricultural labourers of Eng-
nd. These rate* of wages are taken at a period when
the remuneration of labc \t is retrograding in a markeil
manner. Even under thi,; .^«le of affairs, however,
they show that the increase of national wealth has at
leaat given individuals of the labouring-class the com-
mand of a greater money income.

The labourer'^ power of commanding the comforts
of life can only be partially known from a swatoment
of his eaniings; attention must be i^tl.l^ to what these
earnings can purchase. The princi^'iv' expenditure of
the labourer, as already stated, is iu Louse-rent, cloth-
ing, and article* of domestic coniumption. Dy the
improvements "^f machinery, all classes are enabled to
procure bettor clothing at a lower price than they for-
merly paid for an inferior article. The extent to which
this change has been carried, may be inferred from
one or two facta regarding our manufactures. In 17i)7,
when the mule-jenny first came into common use in
Bolton, Paisley, and Glasgow, the manufacturers paid
for their fine yam at the rate of 20 guinea* per lb.;
the Ba.ne quality of yarn has of late been sold at from
13s. to 15s. a lb. The cotton twist, which sold in 1786
for £1, 18a. per lb., is now sold for 3s. The process of
reduction in the price of manufactured goods is still
|oing on, and in the linen a* well a* in the cotton trade.
Canvass, No. 27, an article, the quality and dimensions
of which do not vary, which sold in 181 4 at SOs. a piece,
bad fallen in 1838 to 18s, In the wocllen mauufac-
£54

tuiM, .<..(«*.' 'r iuetlon of priw compared with quality
ha* alkK iak«.n place. I'ht consequence is ivp|>arent in
the style of dre*a adopud by the wcrking-olaaac* of
Qreat Britain, *o diflkrenl from what "'•vail* on the
continent, and did formerly prevail h**-*, As to houses,
every person who has attained to mt..i!(4 n.ift must have
reraaraed the improvement in luaoy i "'.ncM of the ac-
commodation for the labuuriug-claari ui this respect;
and yet thu money rental acema to have remained nearly
stationary. Young states tlii< ause-rent of tbe work-
ing man to have been in his time— at Lr-nls, £-2; Wak*.
tiiild, Jti, 5s Vnwoastle, £'i, 12*. 6d. ; > itflela, £2, 1 As. ;
North M! '<i4 u Middlesex, £3, Kit . Keii*in;etou as
hif;h as £::■ i ■•- i839, the average rental of a labourn ' i
cottage iu the country near Ponxance was about £i; a,
the town, A5; in the county of Rutland, £1, £a, 1U«,,
and £0. In Suflfolk, in 1838, the house-rent of 539
labourers' families averaged £3, 1 Is. per family; in Nor-
thumberland, the average rent of a labourer's cottage
was estimated at £'2, 1 Os. Even the pric« of proviaions,
which is generally sup|ic'«ed to have l>een so much lower
in former times, has not increa*e<i, if it ha^ increased,
so much as is supposed. The average prices of butchec
meat, beer, cheese, milk, and butter, throughout the
kingdom, do not materially differ now from whit they
were in 1760; bread is somewhat dearer, but improved
in quality, and potatoes in ordinary years are much
cheaper. Tea, coffee, sugar, and pepper, have been
greatly reduced in pric^; and now, instead of scarcely
ever appearing in the weekly bills of the labourer, are
standing articles of his exp«n(iitiire.'

This iinproveuieiit in the quality of the accommoda-
tions procurable by a moderato income must always
be kept in view, when comparing what a man can earn
now with what he could earn formerlv,

It would, however, convey a false imprestion of the
amount of social advantage ot any tiiuo derived iu
Oreat Britain from the great increase iu the productive
powers of industry, were we to leav<i unnoticed the
large and increasing class which has never yet been
reached by these benefits. Even in the mo»t busy
marts of industry, numbers are to bo found, and these
not always entirely unable or unwilling to work, who
are in a state bordering upon destitution. We have a
remarkable example of tnis class in the city of Lime-
rick, where a large district is in a manner given up to
them. In Kngland, it is to be observetl, the mean value
of life among the more comfortable portion of the
working-cla?3es is now as high as that of the niiddlo
classes in last century: this appears from comparing
the experience of the Amicable Insurattce Oliice, es-
tablished in 1706 for the benefit of the middle clashes,
with the table of mortality collected by the Society for
the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, which etitbrncea the
history, a* to mortality, of 24,323 year* of life among
the labouring-classes from all parts of England, frniii
1823 to 1828. In Limerick, on the contrary, wliilu
the deaths 'in the three tontine societies there foumled
in 1807, 1811, and 1814, and with lives injudiciously
selected, show respectively one death annually in I OK,
81, and 182 persons, ihe annual mortality among the
poor is 1 in 19. This is not all. 'The frightful excess
of epidemic and endemic disease* among the poor of
Limerick may h» gathered from the following fact,
that while the per-c«-iitBi:e proportion of this class to
the whole number of deaths in England and Wales in
I8.M was under 20 (19'!)); in the metropolis and Leeds,
26' 1 and 26 respectively; in Manchester, 23'2 ; in
Birmingham, 20; and in Liverpool, 19'i); it is in
Limerick not less than 40, or nearly five times as great
a* the proportion of death* from diaease* of the respi-
ratory system, to which, among a healthy population,
it ought to be nearly equal,' * Among the families of

* ' Wherever the absolute mortality Is low, the number of
deaths in tbu epidemic class is Icsathnn the number in the pul-
monary class ; and on the contrary, wherever the deaths in the
first vlasii exceed or equal those, it may bo afflrnicd that the ab-
solute mortality la high.'— Jiril Xtport nf Ri.gUlrar-Qtn«nU

tonrtAB BTATMTIca

tlib «Imi wIm «om« under tht notice of Dr Orilfln—
• Out of 66 who had more th*n 10 cbiUrtn bom aliv*,
18, or ono-flfih, ha<l lott 11 or nior* of thote childrtik ',
ud th« ii|(greg»t« niortftlity of thoN ftuiiiliM wu 158,
or 12 each, which, U diitribut«d Mnonx th« Mme num-
ber of faiiiiliei who had thegrmteet number of children
bom alive, amou.U to 78 per cent., and wae probably
binher.' He adde—' It hae b««n remarked that pro-
duction ii often raoet rapid aiuung a population in tl-
treme wretchednen ; and 1 itronglr iuip< t that thii
ii a ooniequenoe of the high mnrufity which oooun in
luch circuiottiuicei. It ii the character of any influenoo
which tende greatly to deprete the powere of lite, that
it alway* bean hearieit on the tendemeM of infancy
and the feebleneie uf age. Now, ae I find that the poor
nuree their own children, there ii generally an interval
of about two yean between the birt.b of one child and
that of the next; but if a child dies early on the breut,
thii interval will be much ihorter; and if thi« oecore
"(i«n, there will be a certain number bom, u it were,
/or th4 purpoM e/dyiiiy.'

Effeoti of Incroaied Wealth and Kno< Combination.

Some remits from the ci < of in-

L'reaied wealth and knowletl. '■^d to.

It if to be obierved that thu time*

command many comfort h favoui .t It ii

"nly when linowledge suggcsti a , .aent of

.be meani afforded by opulence, a; i upulcti :u on the
other hand exists to avail itself of the aid of Itiiowledge,
that the full bt^iiefit of the conditiona wu have been re-
viewing can be said to be realised. The following illui-
tration may malio our meaning more clear : — '

It is rommouly believed that there is morr danger
to life from lithotomy than from amputation ; but sta-
tistical inquiry shows that death more frequently fol-
lows thu latter than the former operation. The results
of (i4U cases of ainputation of legH and arms, in hospi-
tals and private ^ ractice, in F»»iice, Germany, TJniled
States, and Great Britain, were in 150 cases fatal— a
rati' of 234 P*"" '-ent.* It is to be kept in view, how-
ever, that the mortality in cases of amputation very
frequently arises from the injury or disease on oooount
of which the operation h resorted to; whereas the
mortality from lithotomy is almost invariably the direct
defect of the operation alone — the surgeon having it in
his power, in the latter case, to choose a time when the
patient is in the best condition to endure the suffering,
which he can rarely do in coses o; amputatioi When
we reflect upon the intimate acquaintaua with the
human frame, and the confidence in his own tkill, \v hich
the surgeon can only acquire hy dexterity, the result
of much practice ard the traditional experiments of
his predecessors, we are able to form some idea of the
importance of knowledge in nlloviating the miseries of
humanity. And when we add the considerati •» of the
cost of instruments, medicines, and the time und trouble
requisite to constitute a good surgeon, we are able to
form some idea of the extent to which stored-up capital
is necessary to men having been able (in the first in-
stances at least) to give nud receive this alleviation.

Another example of the benefit of the co-operation
of increased national wealth witli increased know!edge«
is the diminished risk of life in cases of child-birth. It
may appear that we are wandering from the considera-
tion of wealth, teeing that the examples we nre about
to subjoin are selectod from the returns of lying-in
hospitals — the only trustworthy statistics on this point.
But it must be kept in mind, that a nation must be
wealthy before it can support such institutions ^ that
the improvement so marked in the case of the poor,
must be a fortiori greater in those who can afford con-
tinued watching and the best assistance; and that the
affluent classes must haye enjoyed the benefii before
it could be extended to the poor. The process by

* The recent eppliobtlon of aDBsthetio agents in sorgival
cpf rations is expected to dirainSsli in a notable proportion Uie
ratio or fatal to successful caaee.

which a ihar* in this mi other pririltget of the rleh
has been extended to the poor, is a question tot after
invcetigatioB. With this explanation, wo submit the
following quotatioa from M. QueUlet's ' Treatise on
Man,' to show tha morttUty of wouieu in ohild-birth,
and their chUdrwt :—

' Auoordbg to Willan, the mortality bi the great
lying-in hospital in London, into which about 5000
women were aiutuaUy admitted, wae- -

Ofmotbart. Of ohlldraa.

Pruni im te ITW, . 1 in 41 1 is IS

. tVMI... 1748, . , 1... M \...m

... 17fl» ... 17TII, . 1.. IB I. ..41

177» ... I7HR, . .1 ... M 1 ... 44

... iTW... 1798, 1... Mi I... IT

According to Cas|)«r, the mortality of oonflned women
at Berlin has been— from 1750 to 1763, 1 in 85 ; from
1764 to 1774, 1 in 82; from 1785 to 1784, 1 in Ul :
and from 1810 to 1822, 1 in 152.'

The same author supplies us with an estimv^ -f tho
sanatory influence of vaccination : — In mo* ~d

countries ther; are enactments on vaocinat< • '
or lees sever! .y, which are enforced with ^r..-j- " •i/,^- v)
rigour. According to Casper and sevei > <.U)t'4 v\^»!«^
who have written on the ravages caused tiy the . Ii-
pox, it would appear that formerly generationii vtoie
decimated by this scourge — that is to say, one-tenth of
the human race died from it. DuvUlard has found—
Ut, That in the natural state, of 100 individuals of 30
years of age, scarcely four individuals have escaped an
attack of small-^x ; 2d, That two-thirds of all infants
are attacked by it sooner or later; 3<f, That small-i>ox,
in the early years after birth, destroys, on an average,
one out of every three who are afi'ectcd with it;
4(A, And one dies out of every seven or eight affected,
at whatever ace it may be. Such was the state of
things before the discovery of vaccination ; it has since
been much ameliorated. However, in 1817,745 per-
sons died in Paris of small-pox; in 1818, 883 ; and in
1822, the number was as many as 1084. Also, at
St Petersburg, in 1821, 408 deaths took place from it ;
and at Vienna, 238 in 1822; whilst in London, in that
yeni, there were 712. Prussia has been much better
dealt with than other countries : during the two yeara
1820 and 1821, taken together, only 1 in 7204 persons
died; whilst France lost 1 in 4218 the last two years.
The following are the data of Berlin for almost half ft
century: — From 1782 to 1781 inclusive, 4453 deaths;
from 1792 to 1801,4989 deaths; from 1802 to 1811,
2955; from 1812 to 1822, 555. The number of deaths
for the last period, which is extremely small in com-
parison with tho preceding years, would be still less
if thie deaths for 1814 and 1815 were subtracted, during
which time vaccination was neglected. Indeed these
two years had 411 deaths from it; so that during the
others there were only 114. But we should fall into
a serious error, as M. Villerme has said, if we counted
as gain to the popui^lion all those individuals who had
been vaccinated, and not carried off by the einall-poz.
" An epidemic, or any other malady against which we
endeavour to secure ourselves," says M. Villerm^, " in-
deed suppre^ises one cause of death; but from that cir-
cumstance the probability of dying from some other
disease becomes greater. In other words, by closing
one of the gates of death, we open the others wider, so
that more persons pass through these latter; which is
not saying that mortality should be equally rapid.
Consequently, vaccination, and every preservative
against epidemic disease, or any disease whatever, does
not increase the population of old Europe direclljf, but,
what is still better, it alleviates the lot of those whom
it snatches from the chance of the small-pox, it dimi-
nishes the number of the blind, it preserves the native
beauty of the person, and increases the average dura-
tion of life."'

This will scarcely be called an exaggerated estimate
of the advantages resulting from the discovery of vac-
cination. In the three examples which have been ad-
duced, the reader may see how iu knowledge and afflu-

555

'->.

^!^^o.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0 IfBSI

■aiiii

1.1

1.25

2.5
2.2

1.4

- 6"

1.6

?!r

Hiotographic

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

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4^-

CBSMBBa^i iiB^iitiMikl^iiL^^ novuL

•DM eombia«d lttT« •■«•« M pltaartithw MtiBit
tansible duigMt. Bat in w far u th««fflnetit euHM
■M eoBflmdC tU> !■ but a mwU poitkm of the baMfito
tim h»n ewhmi. Thm babiti nntntod in ibeia
nliiiii bv the advanetment of kn«nned0B« at a time of
luoteeien diAuion of knowledge, have been ikroufable
to a general bealOiy condition of tbe indiridual ijiteni,
'^tlike calonlated to mud off the attacks of dieeaae and
to baffle tbem wben they are inoaned. Any p«(-
sen whoie meniorjr can ourj him back for fortjr jwn,
and who hai had opportanitiee of obeetring, nay re-
member the deficient Tcntilation, the im.aU roomi, and
the nomber of inmatee in each room, which character-
lied eren the hoaiee of the iMided gentry. In towni
the evil was etUl greater. Bat it woald requira to
cany the rettoipeet itill farther back — ^to tho time
iriien Roueeau in France, and Dary and Edgeworth in
England, commenced their crundce againtt unhealthy
abeurditiei in the dren and manner of living of tM
wealthier claiMi— to imagine the whole amount of
the impTOToment which hac been effected in thie re-
spect. The improved taete of the wealthier clanee has
contribntevl to iitaproTC their moiali; and, in return,
the better regulation of their conduct hM tendcjl to
fanpioTe their general health. The practice of deep
drinking, which univenally pnrailed, has almost ceased
to exist among the affluent classes. Literary and scien-
tific pursuits, If they do not always guard aj;ainst low
debaucheiy, sare many from it, and enable still more
to recoTcr, after yielding for a time to temptation.

An interesting paper, published by M. Benoiston do
Chateauneuf, entitled * On the Dunttion of Life in the
Rich and in the Poor,' corroborates these .riews. The
author has made, on the one hand, an abstract of the
deaths of 1 600 persons of the highest rank, among whom
are 1 57 sovereigns and princes; on the other hand, he
has taken from the civil registers of Paris, the deaths of
2000 persons in the 12th arrondtsseitaent, which contains
a population of workmen of all kinds-^ragmen, sweepers,
delvers, day-labourers, &c. — a cUmI subjected to pain,
anxiety, and hard labour, who liv^ in want, and die in
hontitals. Out of tliese materials he has constructed a
table showing the per-oentage of mortality among the
two classes at diffmnt ages, and hM added a coiunm
indicating the per-oentage among the middle or easy
classes, lie found that, Mtween 25 and SO, the deaths
per cent, were — amonxtho rich, ; among the common
«hus, 1*41 ; among the poor, 2*22: from 50 to 56 —
among the rich, I'Ul ; among the common class, 2^8 ;
among the poor, 2*58 : from 75 to 80 — among the rich,
8*09 ; among the common class, 10*32 ; among the poor,
14*59. At this last *ge the Column showing the deaths
among the poor stops for want of material^tfiey had
all died off; the column showing the deaths of the
common class extends to the age of 90 ; that of the
rich to 95. The same conclusion is indicated by con-
trasting the annual mortality showi^ by the annual
average of deaths among the English middle classes
who have instired their lives with thb Equitable Society,
and the annual average among the negro slaves. Among
the former, it was only 1 in 81*5 firom 1800 to 1820 ;
whereas it has been calculated that one negro slave
dies annually out of 5 or 6.

Some facts would almost Seem to show, that the
education enjoyed by the mora affluent classes— the
cultivation their minds received, pwtly firom direct tui-
tion, partlv from their social circumstances — ^gave the
mind an increased ^wer of vitality. An offlocr of
high rank in the service of a German state mado this
remark to the writer,- when speaking of the disastrous
retreat from Moscow, in which he had taken a part.
Tlie officen, he said, uniformly stood out longer than the

Erivates, although the pravious habits of both parties
ad led him to expect the nverse. LiterMy men, and
artists who have attained to anything like a competence,
an alao a loug-lived generation. Jne ramark has been
often made, ot the greater facility with which young
men, belonginp; to the class vaguely called ' gentlemen,'
generally attam to superior adroitness in athletic ex- 1

11 issincr a party cC Etonians ara pitted at
oriolMtar ruaning agunst a party of lads of a lower
class, 'the di£Rnence is at once pensptible. Again, the
facility with which the young mm educated at Oxford
and Oambrid|»— unapt thoi^ the systwi of education
pursuAl in these two great seminsmee be to prepare
them Car the teal business of life— work their vray into
the routine of legal or diplomatic business, is well
known. Then is something in the strengthening in-
fluence of good and delicate feeding, clothing, and
ledginc^ combined with exercise ot the physiml and
mentaTfacnltiee, sufficient to strengthen, not to ex-
haust, persevered in for generations, that ennobles the
ratio of '.he human animal, just as careful grooming
and crossing the breed judiciously, ennobles the hone.
What is here spoken of, is not the power of such a
process to confer genius, or true nobility of disposition;
but to bring out in perfection all the average common-
place qualities of the human being. In any country,
a superiority of this kind is discernible in the domi-
nant c<M(e,* and as mere human animals, there is uo
co\iA\,7y in the world that can produce a race iqual io
the young gentiy of England.

Umtts to the BKImU of Wealth.

The limits to this favourable condition of the affluent
classes in England, ate to be sought partly in deficient
knowledge and defident habits of self-control; partly
in a te&ndancy of nUmben compared with property,
Whiieh bSMb them in common with all other classes,
though not exactly to the same extent. The deficiency
of knowledge may be detected in several noxious prac-
tices still persevered in, such as tight-laoing on the
part of the fair Sex. The want of proper habits of self-
control is a more deeplv-rooted evil, inasmuch as it has
its root in a physical fact too much overlooked by rea-
soners upon morals. When named, it Will be found
to be a veiy commonplace fact ; it is, that every suc-
cessive generation begins the world with as little expe-
rience as that which piviceded it. Evenr one of ub
Starts from as mere a state of ignorant barbarism as
tho child Of the savage. We are fbrewamed of much
by the instruction or those who have been taught by
their own experience, or tbe experience of those who
went before them; but there is much of which it seems
impossible to forewarn us. The passions are fully
developed before the reflecting powers ; and every in-
dividual seems dntincd to experience a period of his
existence in which imagination and passion are strongly
and thrillingly awakened, while the guiding power of
reason is yet dormant. This is the most dangerous,
as it is perhaps the most pleasant, period of life ; and
it is one whick is most dangeious with regard to that
veiy class whidi is so highly favoured in other Irespects.
Penury, or the nocessity of daily labour, may restrain
the less affluent classes at this period of life ; but the
yoitneer branches of the affluent class have no such
substitute for the control of reason ; and in proportion
as their general healthiness is higher, so their ]giassions
are developed, it may be, with greater intApsity, It
is at this period that many of the more favoured class
make shipwreck of their hoalth, incurring diseases
which ding to them through life, if they do not bring
it to a premature close.

The influence of economical circumstances upon the
affluent classes, in regard to their moral and physical
welfare, is quite as striking as their infit ence on the

iess fortunate classes, though somewhat different in
iind. The anxiety occasioned to the upper classes by
the prospect or actual pressure of pecuniaiy embar-
rassment, is of a much more harassing and exhaustine
kind than what is suffered by the poor. Pride, and
all the other secondary feelings, with ranging imagi-
nation, add to their torments ; and their occupations
generally demanding a steady exercise of the faculties
of combination and investigation, and keeping their
minds continually on the stretch even in the time of
prosperity— this addition renden their burthen more
than they can bear, and the whole man breaks down

POPULAR STATISTICa.

beoMtli the weight. Excetsire mentftl exertion, eren
under the meet feToiurable eireumttaooei, ik known to
be prodactire of f*tal effeoti. Eren childnn of effluent
•nd fortunate paienti hare been laorificed to the Ta>
nity whieh was mtified bV their dieplayi of precocious
tiilent. The euplditj whiek growe upon men atmcgUitt
to nujntain their place in lociety, inertaaee thlT ctU
bT forcing on the acquirenienta of children, in the hope
of seeing them able, at a conparatfareljr early a^, to
proTide for themeeUee. Cupar of Berlin publiehed
in ISM a tabular etatement of his ebferratione on the
aanitaiy tendency of Tarioue occupatione, which eerreB
to throw lome light on this intricate question :—
Of 100 (Theologiaiu, there haTe attalniBd the sge of 70

•nd upirards, M

Agrionltiurlsts and Foresten, . M

Sttpertartendents, ..... U

CommaroUI and Induatrlous Uen, .39

BUlltanrMen, . . . . IS

Bnbaltema IS

Advooates SO

ArtisU, S8

Teaohen, Vrobuan, ..... S7

FbyBlaians, ...... SI

That ph^cians should stand lowest in this scale of
Titality, is not, considering their ezpocore to conta^on,
to be wondered at ; and the high grade of theologians
^is equally intelligible, from their oertun thoudi mo4e-
rate income, ai^d the equanimity faroured by their
pursuits. It is, how«Ter, startling at first view to find
the average duration of life among commercial men so
little eloTated above that of military men, in a table
constructed in a country where war had ra«»4 at no
remote period. The last fact sewnp to establish that
the agitation of mind picoduced by mercantile uncer-
tainties and di^culties is scarcely a less destructive
agent than the sword.

There is perhaps a point in the development of na-
tional wealth and cinlisatiou at whidi mortality shows
a tendency to increase. Such an idea is naturally
awalcened when we lei^tu that the mortality of Eng-
land is now slightly greater than it was some years
ago. The proportion of deatbs to persons in the decade
1821-31, was 1 to 49; tliat of the decade 1831-41, ac-
cording to the population returns, 1 to,4^*5i,%nd,^a«
of the six years ei»dbg 1844, 1 to 46,,,„,ij| j^i,;,.,,! ;,,.

Education,

The statistics of education have an obvious value in
their connection wiUt inany questions regarding the
civilisation of countries.

It is clear, however, tiiat the state and amount of
education in a country is a highly complex question;
Cor, first, there may be much education of a poor and
inadequate kind; wad secoi^cl, there na^ be conditions
favouraUe to education in some countries, and not in
otliere— as, for instance, the natural chai;acier of the
people, the tendency of tbe^ political and sociftl institu-
tions, and the direction which the energy of the people
cjiiefly takes> as towards war, commerce, or art. The
numbers at school »re also liable to be adected by the
ratio of the increaie of population^ for where there is
a rapid increiise of people, there is always a greater
than usual proportion of the young.

Prussia, where the most perfect of all national sys-
tems of education exists, as far as organisation ik con-
cerned, contained, acconling to a census taken some
years aso, 12,726,023 inhabitants, of whom 4,767,072
were undur fifteen years of age. It is reckoned that,
out of 100 children fi^m one dav to fourteen years of
age comnl^tct there are 48 of full seven and upwards
— a legal age for attendance at school in Prussia. This
would give 2,048,03(1 Children in Prussia liable by law
to attend KhooL It was found, in point of fact, that
2,021,421 did attend, being only a shortcoming of
21,609, a small enoueh aUOWabce for contingencies.
Thus if we were to tiuce Prussia as a criterion for old
stated, where the population does not advance rapidly,
and consider the ^ears between 7 and 15 as those pro-

per for school attendance, we should conclude that about
imt-Mxth of the whole popuIatioB'«f raoh a eountfy^
aheuld be atachtfol.

Most of the German etates aiake an aMroaeli to tlnia
organisation of the Piiisiiaa ^steni} and wo find thM
in Austria thofo waa, a few: year* ago, one school fJur
every 275 fiMitliM. > Bat tho otfject of ih» govemifioati
in supporting education in Prussia and Gennaay gne-
rally, is said to be of a aamw kind — a qwoies. of dtiU«
fisr the purpose of conferring the aocompUahmeBts of
reading, writing, and arithmetic, and to train the
young to a subserviency to (he government itself.

Education was in a low state in France till the
general peace of 1816, since whidi time it has becomo
a government object, and made a rapid advance. Tho
elementary schools instructed 737,369 puidls in 1815;
in 1828, this number was isised to 1,500,000; beiiig
ont-himtutk of the population. It is calculated, liow>
ever, that more than one-fourth of the pe<^le of France
are still unable to read or write.

In England and Wales, in 1818, there wero 4167
endowed schools, 14,282 unendowed schools, and 5163
Sunday schools, educating in all 644,000 children, or
one-wcttenth of the population. Of ll,0OO>parislies,
3500, or nearly a third, bad no school whatever. Since
then the number of both schools and scholars has boea
greatly increased. In 1838 the following returns wero
made to parliament : —

Attending In&nt Schools, 89,005

Dally Sohoola, . . 1,870,017

•' nihil li loi ■( il((i-»l ■

Xetal, ■'.■'. f'!»if'!--''f-.'->:f.'f.. l,SOS,»ai

Attending Sunday Sdioab (sopposed to
be an exaggatsted atttement), . l,0M,89O i

Under the annuaUy increasing grants for educational
purposes, probably from a tenth to an ei{;hth of the
people of &igland and Wales axe now receiving school
mstruction. Nevertheless there are still from 800,000
to 1,000,000 of young persons unprovided with the
means of elementary tuition.

The registration of marriages, by which the parties
are required to sign their names on being united, has
supplied within the last few years a means of testing
the proportion of those ignorant x>{ writing throughout
England and Wales. Of the 121,083 couples married
during the year endirig June 30, 1839, there were
40,587 men, and 58,959 women, who, being unable to
write their names, were obliged to sign by marks. The
proportion of men unable to write was thus 33, of
women 49 per cent.; medium, 41. The number unable
to vrrite was least in, the metropolis, and next to it in
the northern couniies ; and greatest in Lancashire,
Bedfordshire, Monmouthshire, and Wales. The trust-
worthiness of (his test wab confirmed by the renstra-
tion of the ensuing year, when amongst the 124,839
married couples, 41,812 men, and 62,523 Women, were
found to sign with marks; and the proportion in the
various districts was also nearly the same. It is to be
remarked, that a large portion of the married couples
recorded in these years must have consisted of perspqs
who passed their educational years in times when the
means of instruction were much less extended than
thev now are. A few years hence, the proportion of
both men and women attesting the marrlam-register
with ' marks' will probably be much dimlnUhed.

Scotland, unlike £n|land, possesses a national system
of education, t|u^ bemg a legally-endowed school in
every parish, under the care or the clergy. Returns to
parluMnent in 1834 gave the folloij^ v|^ of edttcatton
m Scotland:— '' " .; , ,

faroohial, .
Frivate, .

Total,

Sebools. Pupils.

1017 68,803

. SSOfi

«M«

1M,160
SS8,4S3

The whole emoluments of the teaohen of the parochial
schools was £55,889, beiHg at an atttage an income of

. . »67

CBAXBESBB OttOUUMCIB fOB VBX FIOFLE.

MS, 111. 9)d. to Mdb. The ■OPna** nm wm oom.
poMd of— cndowmenti. £99,943; Am, £20,717; other
emol<imenti, £4S79. Taking 68,39S M the number of
pdpili in the puodilsl idioole (it waa, howerer, the
gMUft attencbnoe), each eoata the public ISe. 7^.
Mr annum. In the lame year, the Sabbath School
Union for Scotland taught 69,326 children.

ne proportion of ohiMren taught out </ the parochial
^^m waa nneipectedly great. It waa greateit in
certain countiei, as followi : —

FMoahlal Boboob. FriTato Schoolf ,
Bdinbm^uliin, » MO

Abcrdaenihlra, . . t3 M7

Lanarlubire, . . 78 SB

-HUid there waa no county, except Peeblea, where the
parochial sehoola were the moat numerous. Onlj one-
fifth of the teachers and one-fourth of the scholars were
under the parochial srstem. It is also to be remarked,
that some of the schools returned as parochial were
merely under the care and patronage of parochial
deigymen, bj whom th«7 had been established. The
returns were considered as not quite complete, and the
number attending sdiool in 1834 was computed as being
more probably 323,1 54, the proportions in the two di£
ftrent classes of schools bein^ nearly the same.

Notwithstanding the political agitations and porerty
which have long depressed Ireland in many respects
below the level of the sister kingdoms, it has certainly
for many years been above at least England with re-
spect to the elemental^ instrucUon of its people. The
aoility to read and write is observably much more dif-
fused in Ireland than in England; and it ia often re-
marked with surprise, of Irisb peasants of the humblest
appearance, vbat they possess on acquaintance with the
classics and the elements of geometry.* Till 1831,
ed~ 'tion in Ireland was chiefly left to private enter-
pris - and the efforts of a few religious societies ; the
government in that Tear established a Board for
National Education, which has since been a channel
for the application of a considerable amount of public
money to this purpose. In 1835, a return to the Com-
missioners of the Education Board gave a computed
total of children attending school in Ireland at 633,940,
the population being at the same time computed at
7,954,100; so that the proportion under school instruc-
tion appeared to be about 1 for every 12*5 inhabitants.
Since then, the national system has made great ad-
vances. The following synopsis, drawn up fram the
reports of the Commisnoners, shows the progress down
to December 31, 1848 :—

ReporUofthe

Number of SohaaU

NwnberorCMl-

In actual ope-

drenontlM

Education.

ration.

RolL

1834, .

78»

107,049

IBM, .

1181

1(8,707

isn, . .

1884

160,M8

18M, .

1978

SttpiMO

1847, .

I8t5

408,038

1848, .

4109

W7,4<9

The average number of pupils in each school is 125,
and it is hoped that this will increase aa the prosperity
of the country revives. The number of applications
for grants to new schools in 1848 was 630, of which
402 were granted and 234 rejected. The total amount
of salaries paid to teachers for the year 1848 was
£57,013, being an increase of expenditure, as compared
with the year 1847, of £6621. The appointment of
paid monitors has been found a very successful experi-
ment, and the number has accordingly been increased,
the salaries varying from £4 to £7 a year. The Irish

• Of on edition of EucUd published by the editors of the pteaent
work, by tu the larsest proportion of copies is sold in Ireland.
Mr Bichens, in n report on the Poor- Laws, asks, ' Where in Eng-
land coald the ordnaDoe aurvegpon find persois amongst the
iMwil <taM to caloulata the sidaa and anas of thatar triangles, at a
baUtttuur a triangle, aa they do in Ireland, and plenty of them ? '

natienal ^fstem at first met with great opposition, in
consequence of religions party-spirit ; but this obstacle,
we are happy to obserre, Is gradually giving way.

Education is actively conducted in America, and it
is calculated that about a seventh of the popula-
tion are at school. In most of the states, schools
are supports by a tax on property, and the superin-
tendence is intrusted to committees of the rate-payers.
In those of New England, the achoola are aa one to
every two hundred of the inhabitanta — a proportion,
perhapa, exceeded in no part of the world. The edu-
cation imparted ia under a general, not purty or secta-
rian management; and every attempt made by religious
denominations to acquire a special contiel over the
public schools has been promptly checked. The affected
belief that this unsectarian education would lead to
irreligion and discontent has been completely falsified.
' It is acknowledged by the rich,' says Sir Charles Lyell
in his recent * Visit to the United States,' ' that wh;n the
free schools have been most improved, the people are
least addicted to intemperance, are more provident, have
more respect for property and the laws, are more con-
servative, and less led away by Socialist or other re-
volutionary doctrines. So far from indolence being the
characteristic of the labouring-classes, where they are
best informed, the New Englanders are rather too much
given to overwork both body and brain. They make
better pioneers when roughing it in a log-house in the
backwoods, than the unwlucated Highlander or Irish-
man, and the factory girls of Lowell, who publish their
"Offering" containing their own original poems and
essays, work twelve hours a day, and have not yet
petitioned for a ten-hour bill.'

In surveying the statistics of education, Vfo muat
keen in mind a few considerations hy which the chaV
racter and effects of education are liable to be much
affected. Education is not certain to produce good
effects, but only those which its directors contemplate
ii;.d seek to britg about. It is a means of conferring
certain accompliumentsupon the mind, and modifying
it to certain ends, inclinations, and habits of thinking
and feelinff. Its efficacy, even where well directed, is
liable to be greatly modified by the character of the
people amongst whom it is operating : for instance, a
European people of good stocK, and amongst whom all
refining social acencies have long been at work, will
show Mtter results with a certain apparatus of school
instruction, than a people newl^ emen;ed from bar-
barism. Above all, our - -nectations of moral results
must be governed by ° yree in which the moral
department of edvcatr. .ttended to. Intellectual

education gives only a^ _e and information; it re-
quires a training of the moral being, of the heart as
well aa head, to produce good conduct.

It has been aeen that Pru*aia stands at the head of
all the c)i:atr.<eB adverted to, with respect to the pro-
portion oi fhe population attending school. It is ex-
celled in this respect by the United States of America,
where, it is computed, there is a school for every 200
snuis. Eneland and Scotland have probably a ninth
of 'heir inhabitants at school — a considerably smaller
p-^)portion. But reckonings of schools and scholars are
only a means of ascertaining a portion of educational
i.ifluences. It cannot be doubted that, besides all the
benefits, such as they are, of school learning, the vouth
of this countiy enjoy an immense advantage in the in-
fluence which the free institutions, the humanity, and
the tone of mind resulting from an old-established civi-
lisation, must exercise upon them. In a national sys-
tem of education, the central government should possess
but a slight, if any influence, and the business of both
arranging and supporting should be left as much as
possible m the hands of the people themselves. We beg
to submit the following general views on this subject :
— Anything done by government, as tho oigan of so-
ciety, to promote universal education, must be based
upon the actual state of educational efforts in the
countrjr. The people must everywhere be encouraged,
invited, stimulated, to take a portion of the task of edit-

POFULAB SIATIBTIGSk

wtlon into their own Iiandt. With commnnitiM, m
with indiTiduali,<duc»tion otuinot be Aone-iided matter,
in which the initructor woumi the pupil ; there jnuit
be eiertion on the part of the latter alto. The mittake
of lome EOTemmenta, eijpecially the PruMian, hae been
to hold the^ people at entirely pauire ; thcr hare drilted
rather than educated. Almoit ererything that haa
been hitherto done in Great Britain to promote educa-
tion haa been the result of private enterpriie : even the
majority of endowed MhooU are the fruite of prirate
enthutiaim in the cauie of education. A paper hj Mr
Long, in the Mcond volume of the ' Joumal of the Cen-
tral Society of Education,' estimates the annual income
of endowments in England, for purposes of education,
at £1,500,000 ; and showsHhe want of a proper power,
invested in some individual or body, for the purpose of
assisting, directing, and correcting all who are intrusted
with the management of such charity property. Edu-
cational amateurs may be deficient in skill, but funds
left to support schools require some one to administer
them, and to adapt the mode of dispensing them to the
perpetually altermg circumstances of society. A table
of the Mechanics' Institutions and other popular asso-
ciations in England for promoting and dinusing science
and literature, has been published in the ' Statistical
Journal.' It is defective, but it shows approzimatively
what has been done by private effort for the higher
education of the people. The total number of societies
is stated to be 112 ; of 91 of these the annual income
has been ascertained, and it amounts to £36,793, 14s.
This is a slender provision for the intellectual wants of
the adults of England, and what is more, its influence
is limited in a great measure to those who, strictly
speaking, do not belong to the working-classes. In the
Glasgow Mechanics' Institution, amajoritv of the attend-
ants on the lectures are shopmen, individuals employed
in warehouses, and even some students — the middle-
classes. Of the operatives who attend, the meehaniei
form a considerable proportion. The Mechanics' Insti-
tution of Liverpool, one of the most flourishing insti-
tutions of the empire, is, both in its elementary schools
and its lectures for adults, frequented and supported
almLst, if not quite, exclusively by the middle-classes.

The facts mentioned seem to justify these conclu-
sions : — ^That national education requires the operation
of government only as public trustee, and of the people
themselves, trying to procure the kind of education
their wants prompt them to seek ; that the duty of
government is to insist that education shall be uni-
versal, and to provide such superinterdence and means
of general control as are necessary for enforcing this
precept; that the duty of the people, in their respective
districts, is to carry mto effect the general directions
of government. The business of government is to see
that the necessary funds are provided, the necessary
establishments for training teachers and pupils kept
up, and the attendance of children enforced. The busi-
ness of the people is to appoint teachers, and to take
precautions tot their discharging their duties conscien-
tiously. The details of tuition are best left to the
teachers, care being taken that they are previously edu-
cated for their profession. Success in teaching depends,
in a great measure, upon the enthusiasm and ability of
the teacher ; and the most successful method is that
which is best adapted to the peculiar character of the
teacher. Some teach more efiiciently by one method,
others by another. The public judge most correctly
of a teacher's ability by looking at results — at the kind
of scholars he turns out. Some such organisation of the
whole country for educational purposes, as is indicated
in these general terms, would, by giving a controlling
power to government, insure equal diffusion of edu-
cation ; by leaving to the people the appointment of
teachers, and by leaving, to a certain extent, to indi-
viduals the choice of what should be taught, would keep
alive the interest which men take in their own
handiwork; and by leaving the methods to the choice
of well-trained teachers, would give scope for piogres-

•ir* improTemmtf being effiseted in the art of edu-
cation by those who ware practically acquainted with
it. The imnortance of leaving a certain latitude of
choice to individual! (narenti, or the moi« advanced
young men or women), Is apparent from the experience
of the Glasgow Mechanics' Institution. The most uni>
formly successfiil classes have been those of mechanics
(or natural philosopher) and chemistry; and a large pro-
portion of the operatives who attended them have been
engineers, and others engaged in processes which are
best conducted by those who understand something of
their prineiples. Human beings are most eauly seduced
to undeigo the toil of learning (for though to piek up
fragment* of information be agreeable, to devote the
oontinuoui attention neoessarr to understand a subject
thoroughly is at first a task) by the conviction that
what tney are learning can be turned to profitable
account. Having learned one nibiect thoroughly, they
acquire a liking for the effort, and are more easily in-
duced to extend their researches. It is sound philo-
sophy not to attempt too much at first. Get every one
to learn something that may benefit him in his oocn-
pations ; none, who have learned thii thoroughly, be it
what it may, will stop there.

CIUHB.

Crime is the retult of various causes — u,fir*l, thtf
natural or original disposition of the culprit; teemd,
the moral atmosphere in which he has lived ; and third,
the temptations placed before him. Generally, all of
these causes are more or less concerned in crime, so
that it becomes a very complex question. When we'
apply statistics to the investigation of crime, we are met
by the further difficulty, that only a certain portion of
the whole of the offences committed are known to us,
and that the proportion known must vary in different
countries according to the efficiency of the legal appa-
ratus applied to the detection of crime. Statistics has,
nevertheless, afforded some curious and viduable know-
ledge on this subject.

The number of persons annually committed or bailed
to take their trial in England and Wales, has for a
number of years past been rather on the increase ; but
chiefly, it is believed, in consequence of the increased
efficiency of the laws. For the five years before 18S9,
it was 22,174 on an average; in 1840, it was 27,187.
The last sum was an increase of 45 per cent, on the'
number for 1830, which was 18,657. In 1842 the num-
ber was 31,309; in 1843,29,591; in 1844, 26,542; in
1845, 24,303; in 1846. 25,107; and in 1847, 28,833. It
is important to observe, that these are not summaries
of the whole offences of their respective vears. There
is, besides, a laiger number of offences, which are tried
summarily before magistrates. For example, in 1837,
in addition to 17,090 persons convicted upon regular
trial, there were 59,374 summary convictions.

By far the greater proportion of English crimes are
against property. Taking the average of the five yean
before 1839 (22,174), it appear that 84*5 per cent,
were thefts and frauds, the small proportion of 7 per
cent, of these being accompanied by violence. Of
offences against property and person, m° which malice
was involved, as murder, maiming, arson, and injuriei
to cattle, there were about 6 per cent. A class called
sexual offences gave 2, and onences against the State,
in which was included coining, 6f per cent.

The counties in which committals are year after year
fewest are those of Wales, the four northern ones,
Cornwall, and Derby ; those in which the^ are most
numerous are Middlesex, Essex, and Warwick.

There are some crimes which women are not,AromTkri-
ous causes, liable to commit; but the gentler does not ap-
pear to be the honester sex; for the proportion of female
to male committals for theft without violence, is as 84 to
73 per cent., a difference of one-sixth against females.

In the inquiries which have been made with regard to
the age of offenders, wonderfully uniform results have
been found, as will appear from the following table, giv-
ing the centesimal pronortion at each period of lifd : —

559

CHAMBBBCPS JOTOBMAXIOir lOB THB FBOPLS.

MM.

1817.

im.

OrwtMk

Diflwwiosh

It*

1-n

l-SB

o-a

••71

»-71

9-n

c-n

n-M

M-lt

Mil

040

SI -It

ai-7i

u-u

o-n

u-a

u-u

i4-7a

O-Sl

«-7<

«■«

7-01

037

s-sa

l-M

s-w

0-3S

I-M

1-8S

i-ts

018

8-ca

1-78

0-ao

TTnder IS y«Ht« •
From H to l«.
... 17 ...SI. *

... ss...te.

... 31. ..40, .
... 41. .00.

... n...«o, .

AbOT* W,

Hot Moeruincd.

Total, . . 100-0 100-0 1000
The Urge proportion at the periods of adoleMenoe and
youth luuft be considered h strictly owing to m greater
tenden<i}r to crime; for the proportions of human beings
at those ages to the whole population are different, the
nersons from 16 to 20 being as 10 per cent., and those
horn 30 to SO as 15 per cent., of the entire nation. It
is oJoulMed that amongst the persons living in England
and Wales, from 17 to 21 years of age, there is one com-
mittal for 232; while from 41 to fiO there is one for 941 ;
and aboTe 60 one for 3391 indiTiduals. We thus see
how great an influence the strong and unregulated
feelings of youth exercise in inducing criminality.

The connection of education or non -education, and
of poTerty, with crime, has excited much attention
durmg the last few years. It is abundantly clear that
some school-learning may exist where the moral de-
partment of education has been neglected, or where
the temptations to error may b«Tety great. The educa-
tion of mere reading and writing may only supply the
means of committing a crime — as forgery — instead of
tending to restrain from it. Yet it certainly does
appear that criminals are generally uneducated in all
ordinary respects. Mr Rawson, secretary of the Statis-
tical Society of London, has found that, of every 100
offenders in England and Wales, 35*4 per cent, could
neither read nor write; 54'2 per cent, could read and
write imperfectly; 10 could read and write well; and
only '4, or less than a half per cent, had receiTed a good
education. In Scotland, a late return showed that out
of 8907 offenders, 20*2 per cent, could neither read nor
write; 69'2 per cent, could read and write imperfectly;
18*2 per cent, could read and write well; and 2*4 per
cent, had received a superior education.

Mr Bentley, author of a History and Directory for
Worcestershire, has shown the relation of non-edu-
ctition to crime in a different way. It appears from
his tables, that the six English counties having the
greatest proportion of schools are Cumberland, Dur-
ham, Middlesex, Northumberland, Rutliuid, and West-
moreland, in which the schools are one for every
727 inhabitants, and the criminal offenders one for
every 1156 inhabitants. The six counties that have
the smallest proportion of schools are Chei'^er, Dorset,
Hereford, Lancaster, Northampton, and Somerset, in
which the schools are one for every 1540 inhabitants,
and the criminal offenders one for every 528; that is,
out of a people having twice the number of schools,
there is not in proportion half so many criminals as
where the schools are deficient. A comparison of the
number of schools in the six most criminiJ, and the
six least criminal, of the English counties, leads to
the same conclusion. In Essex, Gloucester, Hertford,
Chester, Somerset, and Warwick, we find one criminal
oflRender in the lists of government for every 499 in-
habitants, and only one school for eveiy 1069 inhabi-
tants; on the other hand, in Cornwall, Cumberland,
Derby, Duriiun, Northumberland, and Westmoreland,
we liave only one criminal to every 1309 inhabitants,
while we have one school for every 839 inhabitants.
In other words, there are six counties in England which
have nearly three times the amount of crime found in
six other counties; and the counties in which the least
crime is found have one-fourth more sdiools than the
counties in which crime abounds.

The different distribution of educational acquire-
ments among the convicts of England and Scotland
is striking, and requires for elucidation some inquiry
into the proportional diffusion of knowledge among
560

the whole eommunity in each country. Among the
affluent classes, it is much the same, but among the
working -classes it is materially diffimnt. Accord-
ing to the fitctory returns, there exists a more widely.
diStased instruction in Scotland than in England : in
the former country, out of 29,486 operatives, 05*8 per
cent, could read, and 53 per cent, oould write; while
in the latter, out of 50,497 operatives, only 86 per cent,
could read, and 43 per cent, could write. We have
seen above that, in proportion as education was difiUsed
throush the whole community, the proportion of cri-
minals to the total of the population wu diminished;
and this holds good in Scotland. But the mere Exten-
sion of intellectual education to individuals of a class
in which improved economical circumstances and self-
education in moral respects has not Induced that moral
sense shown to be elicited in civilised communities,
does not raise these individuals to the same eleva-
tion in the moral scale that the same education would
do under more favourable circumstances. To produce
the full benefit of education, it is the clau, not merely
the intUoidtud, that must be educated. An educated
individual, belonging to an uneducated class, either
continues to associate contentedly with his original
companions, and retains their comparatively low stan-
dard of morality, combined with the increased power
lent him by education — he has as feeble a restraint upon
his conduct as they have, with much more power to do
harm — or he attempts to associate with those above hira
in circumstances, tnough only equal in acquirements,
and, failine in the attempt, sinks down' to his former
social level, soured against society, and prepared for
any act of outrage. The petty pilferers are for the
most part supplied by the destitute and uneducated
class; the more daring and dangerous offenders bjt
those who have moved in a more affluent sphere, ana
fallen from it l/y their imprudence or vices. The lesson
conveyed by the different degrees of education possessed
by Scotch and English criminals, is the necessity of
educating cUuua as well as individuals.

When we come to speak of educating classes, we are
brought to the consideration of their economical con-
dition. In Bristol, an inquiry into the educational
statistics of the citj showed that, out of nearly 10,000
adults, taken indiscriminately among the working-
classes, 22'5 per cent, could neither read nor write;
25*6 could read only; 51 '9 could read or write. In a
wretched part of the parish of Marylebone in London,
it was found that 25 per cent, could neither read nor
vrrite, and 75 per cent, could either read, or read and
write; and in two other portions of the same parish,
inhabited principally by Irish labourers and their
families, 49 per cent, could neither read nor write, and
only 41 per cent, could read, or read and write. Among
1022 able-bodied and temporarily disabled paupers
above the age of 16, the inmates of several Union work-
houses in Norfolk, Suffolk, and Kent, whose attain-
ments were ascertained with precision, 46*5 per cent,
could neither read nor write, 18 read imperfectly, 30'2
read decently, 5*3 read in a superior manner; and of
the same, 66'4 could not write, 15'4 could write imper-
fectly, 16'9 write decently, and 1*3 write well. It would
appear, then — taking statistics in their present imper-
fect state as our guide — that poverty and want of edu-
cation, as well as crime and want of education, are
intimately if not inseparably associated.

On the last point it is necessary to guard against a
misconception. There may be a district poor in re-
sources and with respect to the style of living of the
inhabitants, and yet crime may not abound in it. The
department of Creuse is one of the poorest in France,
yet it presents the fewest crimes. M. Quetelet draws
the important distinction, that a set of people living
steadily on small means, but knowing no better, and
contented with what they have, ore not poor, in the
sense in which a people are poor who, seeing wealth
and luxury around them, and exposed to the severest
sufferings from the occasional failure of employment,
are thereby demoralised. •

EDUCATION.

Till wifldn the lut few yean, the ide* commonlr en-
terti^ned with reipect to gen«r»I elementuy eduo*.
tion,coinpiehended only certain bnmohei of initraction
{nniliarl^ known by the tenni reading, writing, and
arUkmehe. A < liberal ' education added ancient and
modem languages and mMhematioi. Such formed
the entire round of aocompliahmentt which were lup-
poied, with the acddent-direoted moral training of the
domestic circle, to be sufficient to fit the youth of
even the hishest classes for entering upon the varied
duties of liu. Nor was this scanty education thought
re<iittbite for all. A vast class was allowed to exist
without the least tincture of school learning of any
kind, as not being supposed to require any knowledge
beyond that which immediately fitted them for the lalra-
rious duties by which thcT earned their bread.

The active period whion has elapsed since the con-
clusion of thp last war (1815), has been distinguished
by nothing more than by the enlargement of our ordi-
nary ideal with respect to education. It may be said
to be now universally acknowledged that all — all, from
the peer to tkb peasant — ought to be educated, how-
ever there may still be dififerences of opinion as to tlie
meani of educating, and what education should oontiit
qf. It is also generally admitted that reading, writing,
and arUhmstie, even when effectually taught, constitute
but a branch of education, being merely instrumentaiy
accomplishments, the acquirement and cultivation of
whidi tend in a oertun degree to improve the intellect.
The study of the ancient classical languages, while
still admits by candid persons to be also a means
of improving the intellect, is now no longer upheld,
excepting by a few, as the grand instrument of liberal
education, the character in which it was generally re-
gai'ded a few years ago. It is now seen that this study
gives to the youth of the middle and upper classes but
a portion, and in many instances not the most requisite
portion, of what they should know on entering the
world. The old elements of education may therefore
be said to have sunk from their former character of
all-ntfficiency, and to have now taken their place as
only parts of a complete education.

The primary meaning of the term edveate, from the
Latin edueare, to lead or bring out, does not ill express
the first peat principle of the science. It ma^ be neld
to assume that the human being is naturally in a com-
paratively rude and inert condition, and that external
forces must be applied to draw forth his faculties into
their full activity and power, and bring them to their
highest degree of refinement and nicety of application.
This is, in reality, a large part of the business of edu-
cation, taking even the widest view of its purposes. A
full definition would further include the regulation and
discipline of those moral feelings on which our actions
are mainly dependent, and also the communication of
such sections of knowledge as the circumstances and
prospects of individuals may render necessary.

Before correct views can be entertained with recard
to education, or proper steps can be taken for working
it out in practice, it is obvious that a distinct notion
ought to be attained as to the character of the being
to be educated. Man is this being ; but the question
' what is man t' is one to which science does not yet
enable us to give on answer that all would acknow-
ledge as right. For this reason it is totally impossible
for any writer to present a theory of education which
would be generally received as a perfect science. The
subject must needs partake of the obscurity and uncer-
tainty which as yet rest upon at least the mental cha-
racter of man; and it wul only advance in clearness
No. 85.

and precision in proportion as progress is made in •
correct system of mental philosophy.

While fiiUy acknowledging the difficulty under which
eveiT candid writer on edneation must lie, the pressak
would humbly endeavour to make the nearest ^tpsoach
to a correct system which his views of the natural cha-
racter of the human beins will admit of. He considers
the race as exhibiting » definite mental constitation, ia
all its parts harmoniung with the surrounding univme.
He considers this constitution as eaBbncinK a variety
of fiMsalties, for sensation and action, whi(£ it ia the
business of the educator to awaken, strengthen, and
regulate, so that each person may arrive at the beefc
condition of which his character is susceptible, and
most thoroughly fulfil the design of his being in all its
various resects. He views, in the first place, the
faculties of the physical frame as requiring to be duly
exercised, so as to bring them to the utmost limit of
their native power and nealth. Of the mental system*
he views those faculties which constitute the intelleo-
tual powers aj requiring to be drawn out, exercised*
and instructed, so that the^ may operate readily and
efficiently for all the various purposes which they
are designed to serve; and those, again, which con-
stitute the moral feelinn at calling for the exertion
upon them of all extemu moral influences — at tiie head
of which stands the revealed wiU of God with regard to
human destiny — in order that the best possible state of
feeling may be attained with regard both to the affairs
of the present and to a future state of existence. Upon
these views of man's character a scheme of education
may be founded, which rational persons, as yet unpre-
possessed by other notions, will, he thinks, generally
acknowledge as accordant with common sense, however
unprepared they may be to trace it to its foundation.
He will therefore, without further preface, proceed to
describe such a scheme, adopting the appropriate divi-.
sions into phyiical, moral, and intelkotual, and com-
bining, as far as his space permits, practical directions
with what may be called the philosophy of the subject.

PHYSICAL EDUCATION.'

The obiect of physical education is to insure, as far
as possible, that sound and vigorous frame of body
which, while all must feel it to be one of the |^atest
of blessings, appears to be an essential concomitant of
a sound condition of the mind itself. Physical edifoation
comes into operation before any other department, for
one of its first concerns is to take care that the human
being shall be brought into the world in the eiyoyment
of a perfect organisation. The mother is here the edu-
cator. She is required, during pregnancy, to order her
life, with respect to food, dress, and all other habits,
according to certain rules, found to be conducive to the
welfare of her future offspring. Judicious medical men
recommend that at this time the food taken should net
neatly differ from what is taken at other times. The
dress should be loose and easy. Moderate exercise
should be regularly, as far as possible, indulged in ; and
it is of the greatest consequence, that whOe ordinary
duties are attended to, a quiet, cheerful, and easy
state of mind should be muntained. Departure from
these rules, indulgence in late or otherwise irregular
hours, and exposure to the excitements produced by
violent passions, or the frivolities of fashionable life,
are calculated to occasion deplorable effects on the
being yet to be brought into the world.

Infancy. — The physical educatkm of an infant in-
volves simply the means of kee^ag it in health. For
this purpose nature has made one ugnal provision, in

561

OHAMBBBm INfOBlCATIOH fOB TBI PIOPLEL

tiid tendernaM wbioh the hM ioAiMd into the iiim»le
hwrt— » fMling which iniurei mi unfkiliiiff liindneM
towwdi the young. Rut lometliinff betidei EindnoM ii
required to rev diildren ■ucoeMfiilljr. It ii neoawuy
th»t thoM who hare the duty of nunins the young,
whether mothen or lubttitutei for rnotnen, ihould
hftTe iome knowledge of the phyiiology of the infuit
body, or «t leait be •cquainted with the rules of ma-
nuemant wliioh ranih from raoh • knowledge. The
nd effiacti of ignorance on thit iubjeet are luffloiently
oonepiouoni: for we cannot doubt that, of the great
mottality of the young (about fisur-tentlu of them dying
imd« Ats yean of age), muck ii owing to erroneoui
mathode portued in the nuneiy.

Here tne leading mlei only can be indicated. An
infant should noTer be plunged into cold water, or
eipoeed in any other way to cold, becauie, the dicn-
lauon being oomparatiTely languid in the infiut nb-
jcet, he can leea endure cold taan grown-up penone;
and an attempt to produce hardiwi may only under-
mine health. It ii of the grea te et oonaequence that an
inftnt skoald be kept conetantly dean and dry, that
ita beura be early and regular, and itaelf be as far aa
poasibla habituated to a periodic recurrence of all ita
wants. The mother's milk is the most appropriate
ibod t next, that of a nune about the same tune con-
fined; next, cow's milk warmed and diluted. Farina-
ceoos, at any other kind of aolid food, is unsuitable to
the stomach of an infant under six months old. A child
on^t, if possible, to be nursed about eight months, and
somewhat longer if weaklr, or when the period of eight
months terminatee in the dead of winter. After weaning,
the food should be farinaoeoua — that is, of substances
composed of grain, potatoes, arrowroot, &c. Animal
food should be aroided till the period of infancjr may be
considered as nearly at an end, and eren then it should
be of the tenderest fibre, and administered in very
simple forms and moderate qjuantities.

Ilie food and general habits of the nurse are of great
and direct importance. The child is immediately depen
dent in all reqwcts upon the person who suckles it;
thrires with that person, and also declines with her;
sufibti wh«n she sufiers, and is well when she is well.
So remarkably is this the case, that an act so simple on
her part as the takinc of a hasty draught of cold water,
will probably giro the infant a stomach-ache within
two hours. It is therefore of the greatest consequence
to the welfare of the young, that t&iae from whom they
draw their sustenance should observe all the rules pro-
per to their condition. A nurse should live a quiet and
regular, but not inactive life, using simple wholesome
diet, avoiding stimulating drinks, and preserving, as far
aa poaaible, a cheerful mind. Fermented liquors, as
porter and ale, are only to be resorted to when her
strength would otherwise sink under exhaustion of her
mrstera. In ordinary health, a light beer is perhaps
the most suitable beverage.

Fvt the due development of the muscular system of
an infant, its dreaa should sit light and easy upon its
person, and its limbs should be allowed free pli^ on all
possible occasions. The restless movements of an in-
nnt, the toaaing about of ita head, arms, and limbs, are
to be considered as merely impulses of nature, directing
it to exercise, and consequently strengthen, its mus-
cular system. These movements shoind therefore be
rather encouraged than repressed. Care should be
taken that it is not too soon allowed to bear its own
weight, as the natural consequence is bending the as yet
soft bones of the legs, which may thus become deformed
for life. Whenever a child of proper age is unable
to bear its own weight, or walk without this effect fol-
lowing, we may be sure that its general health is defec-
tive ; and it is a more immediate and pressing duty to
take measures for remedving this defect, than to attempt
to keep the limbs straight hj meohanioU i^ipliano^

The general health of an mfiuit may be described, in

a word, aa to be aecnred (supposing a good constitution

at first) by food appropriate to ita organa, warmth,

cleanliness, segulvity in sleep and other wants, a well-

£«2

aired nuncry, and oocasional walks oat of doors, pro-
tection from all ii^uries through the medium of the
nurse and otherwise, and the muKular exercise of
which its system is capable. Q)*

CuiLDUooD, Youth, and Manrood. — Physical edu-
cation ought to bo continued till the body is brought
to the utmost degree of perfection, in all its ftinotious,
of which it is capable. The improvement of all the
systems and frinctions of tha body may be called the
td t u mU uH of thaae avateroa and funotiona ; hence recent
writars on the aubjact apeak of the education of the
skin, tha education of the lunga, of the digaativa oigans,
of the muscular firama, of tha brain.

In a former number of thia work — that on the Pu-
sxkVATioN or HsAtTH (No. 45) — most of the matters
which fall under Phydcal Eiducatlon are carei^ilW
treated. By reverting to that paper, the reader will
find of how much impwtanoe must be tha formation
of haUta of bodily oleanlineaa, aaaing that the skin is
a system which only can have a healthy fiinetion when
it u thoroughly free flrom impuritiea, and t)i it nothing
ia more indispensable for general soundness than the
particular health of this part of oar fhune. In the same
paper, the value of a due supply of pure air for the
nealth of tha reapiratory organa ia insisted on ; aa also
the proper lesulation of the appetite for food. The
education of ue muscular system impliaa a oompetent
knowledge of the struotun, attachment, and conditions
of action of the muscles ; the operation of arterial blood
and nervous influence on the muscles, and other matters,
for which we refer to our number (8) entitled Animal
Pbtsioloot — The Homan Body.

Under this branch of physical education falls all the
science of exeroise — walking, riding, running, leaping,
swinging, skating, dancing, fenoiL,*;, cricket, ball-play ji
Jlcc. The importance of these to health, in the full
development of the muscles and iir i>rovement of the
frame, has long been known, and by some nations
steadily practised. The perfect forms of the Greeks
and Persians were the result of this branch of educa-
tion receiving a large share of national attention.
Ample provision for such exerdses should be made in
all senunariea of education, infant and more advanced.
What are strictly called gymnastics are more violent
and trying than any we have mentioned, consisting of
climbing poles, leaping bars, swinging by the hands,
and maintaining difficult poritions. These require
much caution in the watchful educator, and should not
be allowed in slender and weakly boys. They ought
not to be overdone by any youth whatever, seeing that,
even in the robust, strains and ruptures have been
occasioned by them. (See OTmusricB, No. 95.)

MORAL EDUCATION.

The training of our moral nature for the due per-
formance of our part as members of society, is that
branch of education which the great minority of those
who have reflected on the subject consider as by far
the most important. It is a great mistake to suppoBe
that this is a branch which the advocates of improve-
ments in education have generally overlooked. As far
as we have observed, all but a small sect of this class
of philanthropists acltnowledge its paramountcy. This
is the part of education which, in a national svstero,
would call for the most attention, because, while degrees
of intellectual attainment are proper for difierent classes
of men, there is no class of whom it can be said, that
a right and perfect moral development is not of the
utmost consequence both to themselves and the society
of which they form a part. Beside such a benefit,
that of an acquaintance with the mere elements of lite-
rature sinks into insignificance. There b no need,

* The numben iatrodaced in this maimer refer to vohnnes of
CAamNrt** Educational Courte, aoooidlng to a list (u ikr as
pubUahed) given at tho close of the section ' Intellectual Edu-
cation.' It will be undentood that the volnmo referred to cither
treats that department of the theoiy and piaotloe of education
AiUjr, or is a school-book in which the sutject is embodied.

XDUOATIOir.

howerfr, to tiklt tmy dtpwtmmt of •doottion tt the
eipmie of Miothor. It m»T b« truo th»t InteUNtuftl
dcTolopmont ii not MproMljr moral dtrolopmant) but
i( muit bo ol«w to rrmj oandld penon that the ivflno-
mont and enwiion of mbd obtainod from Intolloctual
oultttN an farourable to tho moral natnn. A think-
ing man ii not on that aooonnt likely to be the lete a
Tirtuoui man I elia rauoh of our common obeerrationt
of life mait be a blindneN and deluiion. We would
therefore lajr, let no department of education be con-
iidered aa calling for exolutlre or diipropoftionate oul-
tiration i but let all go on in harmonr together.

Moral education can hare no definition ftom ui but
the derelopment and regimen of the moral nature
of thoie who are to be eduoated. Of the perplexity
which attend! thli part of our being, it ii unneceieary
to tpeak. Let ui only lee if we can eettle upon any
prinoiplei by which it may be beneflciallT afllMted. ft
appears to include a tariety of native feellnge, of varioui
itrength and tendency to aotltitT in ereiy different
penon, yet all of them liable to be acted upon by ap-
propriate external meant, to good ae well ai to eril.
In a mind totally untrained, the good di^Miitions are
not without iome energy; but generally, where there
ii a want of reralation of tie ieelingf , and of certain
principle! to which the character of emotion! and ac-
tion! may be referred ae to a etandud, the moral being
i! a !cene of deplorable confueion — the more !o, of
coune, in inttancee where there i! a ooniiderable
natural endowment of the inferior feeUngi. We hare
then the coane, !en!ual, and lelfiih conduct which hae
been the mark of the rude and uneducated throughout
all age!. On the other hand, we cannot doubt that
many naturei, not originally of a high caat, thrown
under influence! which tended to check the lei! worthy
tendenciei, to !tnngthen and dcTelop the good, and
to induce regularity OTcr all, muet have been thereby
enabled to paee through life in a creditable manner, u
not with lome hisher remit leii open to obierration.

One principle tnui etrike! us at the outlet ae of vwj
great coniequence — ^namely, the circumitancei, or, w) to
!peak, the moral atmoephere, in which the being to be
educated ie placed. It is but matter of erery-day ob-
eerratioii, that a child reared amidst groM scene!, where
no reetroint ii imposed upon any of the feeling! by
thoie around him, will prove, in all likelihood, a reiy
different being from one brought up amidst virtuoui
and gentle people. Such a difference, we cannot doubt,
would exiet even where no attempt has been made by
the latter parties to fashion the moral character of the
young creature committed to their charge. It is Exactly
a differenoe of this nature which exi^s between the
youths native to the vale of the Missouri (or those of
the not less savage classes which social circumstances
produce in most great cities) and those of civilised
countries in generu : circumstances decHe the one set
to be barbarians, and the other to be tolerably well-
behaved persons. This education of etreufnttaneet,
though so powerful, is unfortunately not always within
the command of well-meaning parents. Individual!
are here generally able to do little of themselves, if the
persons by whom they are necessarily surrounded be
not of the character that is desirable. Thus it often
happens that a poor though well-disposed man is obliged
to live in a part of a city where his children can only
breathe moral contamination; and we can scarcely
imagine a greater hardship. Yet these are just rea-
sons why every effort should be made to promote a
universal improvement of eodety; and it muet rarely
happen that some arrangement! cannot be made, of a
character likely to operate favourably on the young
person! who are the objects of care.

We would here imprees the importance of removing
(empMtfoti aa mudi ae possible out of the way of young
penons. There is a notion amongst some that a little
temptation is not amiss, as a means of tninbig the
young to withstand greater assaults. But this is, we
are eontinoed, an ill-founded doctrine, and most fatal
policy. It !■ of the nature of erety one of our feelings

to be awakened into aetlTity by th« pNMntation of lit
appropriate object I and it is the equally natural result,
that tne fluent activitr promotes the power and th*
tendency to activity of those feelings. By presentiag,
then, what ara called temptations, we are taking a ditvot
mean! of educating and strengthinilng the inoTlnationa
towards error. On the contrary, a feeling allowed to
lie dormant, loses in power, and becomes always lesa
and less liable to act. Thera is perhapc a oonltasion of
ideas at the bottom of the objectionable theory. The true
plan seems to be to remove all actual temptation, but
to give the intellect and the moral feelings proper wam>
bg against all such dancers, and thus prepare them
for reinstanee when the tune of unavoidable triid ar-
rives. We would say, then, do not allow the young to
see or touch evil things, or even to be in company when
such things are to be spoken lightly of, from an Idea
that they are thus to be hardeneid against temptation.
Be content to inspire a salutary horror of such thinn
by your own report, if you only ara so fortunate as to
be able to keep your young charge exempt ftom posi-
tive contact with what is oiscommeudabM. An error
ma^ of course be committed in speaking too itronsljr
against what you disapprove of, in whidi case tne
young person no sooner disooven the exaggeration,
than, from a principle of contradiction, he isinclined
to embrace the vice. But disoration will save from
this mistake. Upon the whole, it may be set down at
a most important rule in education, to reduce tempta-
tion within the smallest possible bounds.

Nearly connected with the education of circumstancef
is the edueaUon qf anmple. Here personal conduct in
the educating party Is all in all. Children ara remark-
ablv disposed to imitation. They imitate instinctively,
without havins necessarily any discrimination of the
character of the act which the^r ara imitating. The
general natun of their conduct is therefora mud venr
much by the nature of the conduct presented to theU
observation. So much is this the case, that if a child
be carafuUy watched, he will be observed to contract a
tendency to scolding and beating, from that very dis-
cipline by which, moBt erroneouily, an endeavour is
made to correct hie erron. It must obviously, then,
be of the greatest importance that the demeanour and
general actions of the educator, and of the family in
which a child is reared, should be models of all that
is proper. Just the more amiable and correct in all
respects that this conduct is, so will the young be the
more likely to form those habits which their best friends
could wish. We <rill not pause to consider the effect
which a positiv - vicious course of life is calculated to
have on such Oi vi joung as witness it. The kind of
bad example which re have here a chance of helping
to abolish, is that which shows itself in acts far within
the cirele of positive vice. Such are the use of offensive
and uncivil language, wranglinss, domineering, low and
sordid habits of aU kinds. If parents and the other
grown-up members of a famiW do not restrain them-
selves from all such acts in the presence of children,
there cannot be a doubt that the children will likewise
be addicted to them. It may be a somewhat startling
doctrine, but we nevertheless declare our full convic-
tion that there is not the least need for ever using,
in the presence of or towards children, anv language
which might not be addressed by a well-bred person to
a perfect equal. All ordering, dragooning, scolding,
and, much mora, all violence, exerted for uie purpose
of managing, or punishins a child, are unmitigated
erron and evils. A child has feelings to be wounded
and roused up into contradiction hj harsh usage, as
well as any grown-up person; and it is well known that
Budh means are not serviceable for gaining any end with
our fellow-creatures. A civil request, if reasonable,
will succeed with a child as with a man. Gentle and
respectful language gain as much upon an uncorrupted
child's nature as upon a man's. Such treatment can
have no chance of tpoUing a young person; it will only
tend to his advancement as a rational well-bred beings
instead of making him a wrangler or » tyrant.

£6>

oHAXBiBm nnroiMAVioir iob thb pkopu.

Tfa* •rwoqXiM part of monl adHflAiion, though th«
lewMt in powir, ia aok to b« onrlookad. A good
nwslm or » touad •drieo, wtU-timod, Mid niMla tbo-
■oughlj intolUgiblo ftnd thoroughW Mcoptuble, will
mnij foil to h»To » good effoot. Enn luppoting it
to bo littU Ngwded at tho timo, it magr ramMu lu tho
momoijr. Mid com* into play on Nmo future ooomIod,
whan parhapa mora naoeiaary tluui now. In (uch
moral aaada there ia a ritalitjr like that of the leeda of
plaata, which may hare been buried too deep for ger-
mination for thouianda of yeara, and yet, when placed in
the proper cireumitancea, riaited by lap and heat, will
eend up aa goodly apecimena of their kind aa if thaT had
been ahed from a parent atom of laat year'a growth. It
will therefore be proper, from time to time, to inculoate
moral laaaona appropriate to the a^wicity of the child.
Thia may be done directly, by giving good maxima to
be learned by heart; but it will be done better by
meana of narratirea ahowing the Tirtuea in action.
Thia ia beoauie a child much more readily appmhenda
a lariea of iuoidenta than an abatract truth. It will
alao be well to allow the aimple narration, in the firat

Elaoe, to be reoeired into hia mind, and then to allow
imaelf, if poiaible, to make out the moral. Call hia
own moral feelinga, aa far aa may be, into judgment
upon the caae, and only tell him whether he la right or
wrong, till he fully compreheuda it in all ita bearinga,
Thua hia own good feelinga, aa well aa hia judgment,
are brought into exeroiae, and thua a far deeper im-
preaaion la made than if the whole caae, includwg the
moral, were merely related to hiiu. (') * It ia a duty of
preeepttre education to warn against and check eril,
aa well aa to iuculcate good. When anything wrong ia
done, we but imperfectly correct it by layiiig, * Don't
do that,' or inflicting ceuaure or punialunent. It ia
neoeaaary that we abould conTince the understanding
and more the feelinga of the child to a aenae of the im-
propriety of hia conduct. This may be done by mild
ai;gument and illuatration, calling upon himteif ulti-
mately to aay whether iuch conduct is commendable
or not, and whether it ought to be repeated or avoided.
He thua becomea judge upon his own caae, and ia forced
to condemn himself, where, if condemned by others, hia
oppoaire feelings might hare only presented reaistanoe
and defiance. At aome schools, including those for
infanta, it has been found possible to impress such
leaaona by means of a kind of trial, the schoolfellows
being the jury. The case is stated to the aaaembled
children: they are asked to say if such conduct is right
or wrong. They inrariably sire a sound decision, and
ihe effect is most powerful. Obdurate natures, to
which a reprimand from master or parent would at the
moment be as nothing or worse, are found unable to
resist the force of the publk opiniott of their own locitty
—as ia erery day found to bo the case with grown-up
people, such being, in fact, a law of human nature.

Circumstances, example, precept, are all inferior in
eflbct to Training, which ia more particularly the norel
feature of modem education. Thia principle may be
said to hare its natural basis in the law of habit. It ia
indicated in the text, * Train up a child in the way he
ahould go, and when he ia old he will not depart from
it;' and in the maxim, 'Just as the twig is bent, the
tree ia inclined.' We are so constituted, that when
accuatomed to do anything, we do it almost without
the goremance of our will or judgment. We do it
easily, and generally well. If accustomed, for instance,
to a particular class of intellectual operations, we ac-
quire a facility in going through them which generally
strikes others with wonder. If accustomed to the ex-
ercise of a particular dan of feelinga, be they good or
bad, they in time awake unpromp^, and we oecome
their almoat paaaire instnimenta. To habituate the
feelings to the exercise and regulation which is pro-
ductire of the best results, constitutes moral training.

* The Mural Cloas-Book, here referred to, nippllM a variety of
namtlres, showing tlio virtue* in action, together with a leluc-
tion of moral maxims (rum Scripture awl oUior aouroea.
564

Tha Csallaai m* of Tarv Tarioui ehanMtar. Proosad-
Ing upon Dr tiall'a daaotfptioa of than, which aaema to
ua to b« tha beat, wa find tha flrat oUaa deaotibad aa
selfish, yat neoeaaary for tha ptaaarvation of the indlri.
dual and tha apaoiaa: othara directed to objecta apart
from self, yet aa Uabla also to miadiroctlon and abuse.
It aaema altogether a stnutgalv-mingled web, yat not
without a certain dafinitaneaa of oonatltutioiial anange-
maut and of putpoaa. Hera it mi^ be at onea admitted,
aa a fact not laaa obrioua from philoaophical inquiry
than from laralation, that perfection in the complicated
operationa of our moral nature ia not to be looked for.
It ia equally certain, howerer, that there are infltMnces
which may act adrantageoualy in regulating, directing,
and harmouiaiug these operations.

The selfish or lower feelinga are the firat in the indl-
ridual to call for attention, and they may therefore be
first treated in this place. That early dereloped instinct
which regards food is so liable to be orer-indulgad by
a miataken kindnesa, that we feel particularly called
upon to gire a warning with recard to it. The un-
aroidable effaot of auch orar-indulgenee b to produce
pampering and faatidious habita, equallv degrading to
the moral aa they are dangeroua to tne pnysiakl system.
The food of the young should nerer be otherwise than
simple, if we were mereW to regard their health; still
more ^ould it be so, if*^ we would preserre in them
manlr and hardy habits. On the rare oocaaiona when
a little treat ia aiforded, care should of course be taken
that it is of a nature in all respects harmless. Comfita
ahould be few and far between, if ever giren at all; and
rewards and punishments should nerer hare reference
to edible things. As to liquor of any kind, such aa
men are themselres but too much accustomed to in-,
dulge in, certainly one drop ahould nerer enter thel
lips of a youu{| person on any pretext whaterer.
Tiiere are few sights more distressing to a reflecting
mind, than that of parents handing the so fatal wine-
cup to their children. The quantity of food giren to
the young ahould nerer be stinted from penurious or
ascetic motires; but it is rery certain that great errors
are committed in giving too much and too frequently.
Eating is altogether much a matter of habit, and that
with regard to quantity aa well aa quality. The amount
actually required for the efficient support of the system
is, under natural circumstances, not great : it is gene-
rally much exceeded. There is therefore room for
a judicious restriction, within the range of common
practice. It is but a result of the general law, that a
systematic moderation at this periwl of life will lead
to an easily • maintained temperance in future days,
and thua be productire of the greatest bleasings.

The combatire and destruetire dispositions of chil-
dren are also early monifeated. The great actirity of
these fiacultiea in boys ia particularly remarkable, being
shown aa much in a wild apirit of adrenture, for inno-
cent objecta, but often leading into danger, aa in any
direct form of violence. The superabundant ritality
of this period of life seema to be a cauae, or at least
a necessary accompaniment, of the energy of these
faculties. No peril intimidates; little compunction
is felt in dealing with either man or beaat. In all
thia there is no doubt a good end in view; but it still
remains for the educator to regulate these dispositions.
The eontendative spirit may be directed to the orer-
coming of difficult tasks, the taking of energetic exer-
cise, and the visiting of places and objecta the exami-
nation of which may be uaeful. The other feeling,
iuatead of being allowed to show itself in rage, passion,
and resentment, to inflict pain on harmless animals,
to torture or oppress companions, or take delight in
defacing and destroying inanimate and perhaps orna-
mental or useful objects, may be trained td resene
actual manifestations of ita energy for objecta clearly
noxioua. It is to be lamented that edunation, as here-
tofore, and still in mauy places, conducted, rather tends
to foster than to regulate or moderate thia propensity.
The old notion, that to be able to fight ia aasential to a
youth, still, we fear, in lome meaaure guides directors

CDVOATlOir.

of •duMtion, »l iMwt to fw M k ^ induM thtir taUng
littU Mini to provont loenM of oulntce when onlv
TOuthAil good-Buroour Mid kindnew inoald provatl.
The opproMlTO wpimn of fsnlng ii alto itill, to tha
diigraco of our agt, allowad in lome of our public
MininariM. It it wtll, no doubt, that ho who it to
And life » thorny and difleult path, thould not enter
it with too gentle or timid diipoeltiona; but tnrely it it
not iropoettble to draw a dittinotion between quarrelt,
blowt, and tyranny, and the encouragement of a tpirlt
tuffleiently manly and energetic for all the common
needt of our tocial eilttence.

The flrtt object of the educator with regard to thete
feelin||t, ought to be to impreia the leiton that their
exerciie it good or bad jutt at they hare good or bad
objeott in riew— that they mutt in all oaaet be under
the guidance of the moral tentimentt and Judgment.
The pupili thould be trained to check ereir impulte
of thete feelingt which they are oontoiont hat not a
legitimate object in riew, and only to allow them any
freedom when carcflil reflection hat tatitfied them
that tuoh a couree it entitled to the entire tanction of
the moral law. Particular regard thould be paid to the
lupprettion of the tpirit of wanton cruelty, of malioe,
of reTense, of uncharitablentet. And one important
meant or working out tiiete endt will be to allow no
oiample of harthnett, crueltr, or quarreliomeneti
•rer to appear before the eyei of the Young. It it very
detirable that thoie who conduct tohoolt m which the
children of the humbler claiiei are educated, thould
addrett tberotelrea particularly to the formation of
Iwbitt favourable to humanity. Lane lectiont of the
humbler daitet, partioularlv thote who have anything
to do with animalt, are habitually cruel. Much might
be done to miti^e thit diitreitin^ characterittio by
carefully impretting at lohool the wickednett inTolved
in every detcription of cruelty to animalt.

The tecretive ditpotition callt for a large thare of
attention from thote who would bring up a child well.
Thit tendency of our nature appeart to nave a legiti-
mate operation in dictating tuch a reterve at may be
neceitarv for the reitraint of our ordinary feelingt,
where their ezptettion would be ditagreeable or mit-
diievout; but it it liable to ereat abuie, and particu-
larly amonnt the young. The fint impulte of all
unregulated mindt, voung and old, it to conceal the
truth, if tuoh expedient teem calculated to lave them
any harm or inconvenience. It it only when the greater
evil of lying it thoroughly underttood that thu ten-
dency ceatet. It becomet, therefore, of great conie-
quence to check the firtt initancea that are obterved
in the young of a ditpotition to conceal the truth for
lelfiih or bate purpoiet, and to teek to ettablith prin-
ciplot and habitt of a contrary character. For thit end
nothing it to necetiary at a mild and jutt treatment of
children under all ciroomttaucotv ii^eing that when le-
verity or injuttioe it to be appiehended, a direct and far
too great temptation it siven for tecretive conduct.

It it difficult to legitlate between the evilt of blab-
bing, and the equally notoriout evilt of a habitual
tyttem of contpiring for the concealment of trutht
which contcientiouinett would direct being told. There
can be little doubt that the ' don't tell' practicea of the
nurtery and tohool are calculated to implant and fotter
the teedt of diiingenuouineat in the youthful mind.
Yet it it not leit true, that to encourage a tale-bearing
habit would be deatraotive to all manly and honourable
feeline. Here caution, judgment, and a careful diicri-
niination of cates, mutt be the chief guides of the edu-
cator. We would for our part deem it a duty to lean
at much at potiible to the principle of having the truth
told at all hazardi. The educator may do much b^ a
rigid tystem of intpection, and omitting no opportunity
of breaking up all confederaoiea againtt the truth. At
he never will allow iMrking, if he can help it, to also
he will never, on hit own part, be guilty of the mean-
neit of vmking. The more <^n and candid his own
conduct in all hit relatione towardt hit pupila, the
better will it be for them. There exiitt a tchool on

improTcd prinelplea, where tha mott lively mtttval Mil*
fldence eilttt between the maiten and their pupila.

and on the part of the pupili
da.

It towardt each other, with
the beat elDtbtk on all handa. Honour it thua ao habi-
tually obaerve«i, that the deaka containing tha little
property, lettera, ke, of tha pupila nood no locka. There
ia much evil In familiea firom cnildren being brought up
in non-confldential habita with their parenta and witu
each other. The family parlour and table ahottld be a
aoene where all can unfold their ordinary thoughta
without fear of eenanre or ridicule. It ia the beat
meana of inauring that the young people will act with
the concurrence of their parent^ when they coma to
take any of the more aerioua atepa of life.

The acquititive feeling requiret much more educa-
tional care than it hat utually received. We need not
detain the reader with an expotition of the legitimate
ute of thit faculty, which promptt man to accumulate
or ttore up thegoodt of liie, for regular initead of pre-
eariout ute. To thit impulte capital owet itt exitt-
ence, without which there could be no civiliaation.
The Author of our being haa ttamped importance on
thit facnltv, by the itrength of the propentity. None
more requiret modification, regulation, and right direc-
tion. It it often too ttrong for conKientioutneaa, and
ia the aource of by far the largest amount of crime.
But, beaidet this, it is even with the honest too mndi
raanifeated in abuae. Ita objects are made the para-
mount pursuit of life, and in its intense selfishness it
withers to dust every generous and kindly feeling of
the heart. In a commercial country like our own, it
deeply degrades a larse proportion of the community,
and leads to much individual and social suffering.

These evils are the consequences of the natural
strength of this feeling, the ab«ence of resulating edu-
cation, and the presence of positive mis - education.
Selfish and exclusive appropriation of desirable thinga,
either to eat or hoard, is a lesion taught the youngest,
both by precept and example; and there ia none more
easily learned. Here bribery operates, till iiifant mo-
rality becomes mere matter of barter, and sood con-
duct and attentive study are estimated by the iniiuit
merchant by what they will bring. Perhaps we err
in ao soon introducing children to the use of money;
it is at least desirable that they should not be accus-
tomed too soon, or at any time, to an ensrossing sense
of its value and importance. It is well to accustom
them to take care of anything that ia thoir own, but
not to set too great store by their little poaaessiens, or
to be too excluaive in the uae of them. A habit of
acrupulous regard to the distinction between mttM and
thtnt, ia one which cannot be too early formed, at tha
aame time that children are accustomed to make a
generous use of whatever is their own.

Self-esteem and love of praise or approbation are
early awakened feelings, and the more call for regula-
tion that they are so liable to be caJled into exercise
by the procedure of education itself. Here it is parti-
cularly important to keep in mind what are the legiti-
mate uses of these feelings. A well-regulated self-
eateem obviously gives that confidence in ourselves and
our powers which is necessary for all our efforts i*
life; while a moderate regard to the opinions of othera
is useful in prompting to such efforts, and in restrain-
ing us from many displays of caprice and absurdity to
which we should otherwise be liable. It will of course
be well to encourage these feelings, aa far as they tend
to give necessary confidence, and to maintain a decent
regard for character in the world, but so further.
Their vices, pride and vanity, too much reliance upon
self, and too abject a regard to the world'a opinion, ar»
to be aedulously guarded against. In the procedure of
education, they are so readily available as means of
stimulating to exertion, and encouraging good (that is^
not troublesoDj^e) behaviour, that it is not surprising
that they are so extensively made use of for thoae
purposes. The whole system of place-taking, prixaa^
medala, &c. is founded on them. It cannot be doubted
that educators are thus guilty in many instances of

S6&

OBAMBlin nifOIICAlKNI fOI TBI PIOPLE

fiNlMiu iarUiovi wd rrw 4MlnMM?* MlBgi in Uk«M
oadar tSiir «hM|« i Um whol* ayakm U iiiic{UMtU>D-
Mj m Mlflik M«. FMling ilfODf 1/ Hum ot^Mtiou,
MBM modam aduoMioaiita MiroaiU Um antirt aboU-
tioB of All OMika of m mla Hv t I f eomparatiM pioflelmejr
ot food bohafiour at Mhool, ntainiiif only u aoeunio
v^gMor of ladlf idukl AdrMMomont, to OMblo tho pnpU
to lurk Ui own progroM. Thooratiotllir tlUa U ngkt t
•ud wo BUj hopo tlut, wImb oduoktioB It hilly omnlMd
OB B right footing. Md Mipportod bjr an IroproTod kdult
•oeiotr. tho wholo intom of oompotltlon, Including
troijr kind of lownrdi uid puuithmonta, will bo dU-
ponMd with. MoMwhilo we muit leavo odunton to
Mt on th«M poiuto Mcordini to thoir boot difcrotion,
pnl/ itronglv rooommonding thom to ditponoo u fw m
■omIUo with all tboM Inlorior, ud, to » oortkin oi-
tont, dogntding ud corrupting influonooc

Cftutiottcnow— • fooling intended, in iti right dino-
tion, to prompt to foroeight and tho »roiduoe of unno-
coiBMjr dnngen, but in iti eioeai, puiilUnimit/ ud
oowwdloo— oalla for » cwoftil troktment. Amongit
unthinking penonc, it ia mere eport to frighten chil-
dren with nnmtiref, objecte, ud eidnmntiona calou>
l»ted to intpiro terror. Thui their imnginntioni are
filled with bugbeare, which haraM them oonitaiitly,
and make it tho lerereet pnnithment to be left at any
time alone, or to be in the dark. In catea where a
prediipoeition exitta, the mott lerioua ooniequencea
tometimea flow from thit irrational treatment. An
enlightened educator nerer allowa an ideal terror of
uy Kind to enter the mind of hia child or pupil. Aa
the feeling may be etrong or weak in the DMrticular
caae, he aeeki to moderate or to foiter it, giTing enoou-
ragement and itimulua if it be defectire, ud prompting
to caution if it be otherwiae. He careAiIly impreaaea
the leeaon that duger ud haiard may tie laudably
enBountered for a good object, but that it ia folly to
undertake the leut riak wnen no end ia to be gained
by it. For eiample, he would approre of hia pupil
perilling hia own life to aare a friend from drowning,
out not of hia going aoroaa a lake thinly froien, merely
to make a demonatration of hia courage.

The aelflah feelinfri appear in a natural aubordina-
tion to thoae which are uaually called 'higher,' and
■ometimea, by excellence, ' the moral aentimenta.'
Theae are what mainly giro the charaoteriatic, 'good-
neea,' to an indiridual, and ao rule the aocial madtine,
that general morementa are uaually of a rirtuoua
character, and rioe ia obliged to remain in nooka and
eornera, or put on tho garb of rirtue when ahe appeara.
It ia to the proper training ud regulation of thia claaa
of feelinga that the educator chiefly looka for the reault
he aima at — namely, the right formation of character.

Conacientiouineaa, the oonacienee, the moral aenae,
or by whaterer other name it ia called, ia that innate
fiaeling which girea the diapoiition to follow right and
•roid wronc in all circumatancea. To bring thb feeling
into ita full force, it ia neceaaary to train it with the
aid of intellect to lend it diacrimination. The pupil
muat be aocuatomed to obeerre ita rulea, aa to the
property of othera, their reputation, their oomfort and
liappineaa, the right dedaion oferery queetion in which
their intereeta are concerned, and alao with rward to
the truth in all thinga. He thua becomea &ied in
•quitable, diaintereated, and ingenuoua habita, beyond
aU the powera of ordinary temptation. It will be no
•xerciae to thia aentiment to tell the young to aroid
certain acta, becauae they are mean, and only practiaed
by the rile, or becauae they will procure unirenal
odium. That ia an appeal to lore of approbation,
not to conacientiouineaa, to the derelopment of which
it will be rather unfaTourable than otherwiae. To for-
tify oonacientiouaneaa againat what ia wrong, we muat
diractly addreaa itaelf, by an endeaTOur to ahow the
actual unjuitneai or bueneaa of any pwtieular eonrao
of conduct, or the integrity and purity ot the oppoaite;
taking care to induce an act poiitirely conecientioai
on allpoanble occaaiona, aa in tne acting upon a lenti-
meut doM the meui of improring it chiefly lie.
£9S

■••UairilkkMMToleMe. V« moit Bot aonleBl Mr-
■elTW with p m iBtl n g ideal pIctBiw of the dbtroiiai of
our fellow-ereatuNa to the minda of the young, thlnk-
lag that to excite their eomnieeratioB ia enougD. We
muit endeaTour to induoe them to perform adt of
kindnoM ud charity — we muat endearour to make
them giro, Ikom their own neani, or at aome axpenae
of aelMoBial, fuooour to the unfortunate i ud for thia
roaaoa it will be proper that they are oeeaaioBally
bought t« witneaa eaeee of aetual iuflTeriag, ud made
to adminiitar relief with their own haaaa. It wat a
beautiful old cuitom of Chriatiu princea and prin-
oeaaM, to hare a number of poor peraona oooaaionally
brought before them, that they might mlnliter to theur
relief and comfort by waahing their feet with their own
handi. It waa ita leaat good eflbct to humble rank to
the level of mortality: the better one waa to give acti-
vity to the autlment of benerolence, too apt la auch
peraona to become dormant, from their very elevation
above all apherea in which human iuAring exlati.
Bmevolence ia alao to be ahown in what ia nlled m
obliging diapoaition, a reabineaa to aaoriflca ouraelvei
and take iome trouble whenever our doing to can at
all promote the happineea of our feUow-enaturea. It
ia likewiae ahown in merey towarda the weak, including
animala, ud in a foniving placable temper. ' Teach
your children,' aaya Mr Goodrich in hia admirablo trea-
tiae entitled " Fireaide Education," * never to wound a
peraon'a feelinga becauae he ia poor, becauae he ia de-
formed, becauae he ia unfortunate, becauae he holda a
humble atation in life, liecauie he ii poorly clad, be-
cauio he ia weak in body and mind, beeauie he ii
awkward, or becauie the Qod of nature haa beatowed
upon him a darker ikin than theira.'

Juitice ud kiudnoii to othen have a worthy aiao4
elate in raapect or veneration for othen who are of
aiiparior worth, and for luperior obiecta in general, in-
cluding the object! of religioua faith. ThTa ia alao a
natii'ti aentiment of the mind, and one which eendi a
beautiful light throughout the world. The icofling ud
undervaluing propeniity ii iti oppoaite — a diipoaitiou
rarely found aiaociatod with eatimable qualitiea. The
aentiment of veneration ia that on which all aocinl
mdee depend t it ia the apirit of aubordination itaelf.
It ia a foUy wnen exerciaed with regard to mere arti-
ficial ruk unattended by worthy qualitiea; but with
regard to peraona elevated either by their native good
qualitiea, or the function which haa been intruated to
tnem to execute, it ia aa much due aa ia our pity and
auocour for the unfortunate. It ia perhapa thia feeling
which chiefly givea a renrd for the feelinga of othen;
for we muat think our fellow-creaturoa of aome conae-
quenoe, before we will be diapoaed to go out of our way
on their account. The feeling, therefore, eminently
deaervea the care of the eduMtor ; but great paini
muat be taken to give it right direction. We rouit
teach the young to diacriminate judicioualy aa to ob-
iecta really entitled to their reverence. It may here
be remarked, that the feeling of veneration ia one which
may prove of great importance in certain contingenciei
to which the educator ia liable. Whra a difld baa
been indulged or mia-trained to auch an extent that he
defiea all the reina to which he haa been accuitomed, it
will generally be found that removing him to a new
acene, and into the charge of individuala who, whether
from their character or from the force of novelty, ex-
cite the veneration of the young delinquent, ia attended
with a good eifect, which it only requirea flnuneaa, dii-
oretion, and kindneaa on the part of the new teacher
to follow up, for a complete reformation.

The above mav be aaid to be the natural raeana of
cultivating and forming the moral character of thoae
intruated to our handa. And theae natural meana are
of great conaaquence, and entitled to all the reapect we
can give them; for they are in reality meana of Divine
appointment, deaigned to aerve in the great work of
mutual improvement. But the moat powerful meui
of modifying human character ia that other revelation
which hat coma to oa in a more direct maiineri ud

IDUOATIOir.

wklM u rally diMioMd in tba p«gM of iMnpluM. Ai
■oon M Ihli can be made inttlliclbl* lo tik» younc. U
•hottld ba ImpaHad, not undar tnoaa rudaly farafllar
•ifoumitanoaa which too oftan attaud lallgloui aduoa-
tlon In the NhooUroom and at home, where the ohUd
if oonioloue of little beaidea a itninle to oommit oar-
tain taitt and dogmai to mamoryTout In the quiat of
oonfldantial oonreno, when the uoughta are called
home, and the aoul ia open to awe, Ioto, hope, and all
the gentler emotioni of our nature. Then may we
hope to oouvey loine iuit impretaioni of the grand vet
tender relation in which man itanda to hit Creator, Die
deatiny on earth, and the appointmenta for the lUture.
Th«n only may we hope to impart juat feelinga with
regard to the inMrutable loheme on which tha weal or
wo of an eternity dependi. It ii obrioui that. If we
Moceed in theae thinga, we mutt awaken in tha moral
nature a Mlf-iuitaining influenoe infinitely more power-
All than precept, example, trainbg, and all the other
natural maohinerr of a moral education. Yet it ahould
narer be loat dant of, that neither meant will tingly
be operative. Upon a mind which h|M been left rude
and unregulated, the effortt which ultimateW take the
name of religiout education can make little imprei-
tion. The worda which have been learned will pro-
bably remain only at wordt, without producing any
laal religiout feeUng, much leia any improvement of
conduct. Indeed, both the morali and tha intellect
mutt be cultivated to a contlderable extent, before re-
ligion can be anything but a paatins lonnd. There
mutt be a prepared intellect to underatand it, and

Srepared moral faclingt to give it a reverential recep-
ion, and entertain itt beheatt in the tpirit due to them,
not to tpeak of acting upon ita preceptt.

To recapitulate — the moral nurture of the young it
to be accomplithed by a variety of meant; firtt, by
placing them in a pure moral atmoaphere, preienting
what it good and nothing evil of human conduct before
their tight, famiUariting them with every tound precept,
and giving their variout feelinn due regulation, exer-
cite, and training; next, by imbuing them, under the
ciroumitanoet moit calculated to be effective, with thote
religiout truthi which to infinitely trantoend all othen
in importance. In order to impreti thete leiaont ttill
more pointedly, we beg to oppend tome expreit direc-
tiont which we think may be advantageouily followed
in the management of the young, more particularly
thote at the infant ttage ;—

Anticipate and prevent flretfulneti and ill-temper,
by keepin|; the child in good health, eate, and comfort.
Mever (juiet with giving to eat, or by bribing in any
way, ttill leit by opiatei. For the fint few montht
avoid loud and narth toundt in the hearing of chil-
dren, or violent lighta in their tight; addratt them
in toft tonet; do nothing to frighten them; and never
ierk or roughly handle them. Avoid angry wordt
and violence both to a child and in itt pretence, by
which meant a naturally violent child will be trained
to gentlenett. Moderate any propentity of a child,
tuch at anger, violence, greedineta for food, cunning,
be. which appean too active. Show him no example
of thete. Let the mother be, and let her aelect
tervante, tuch at the withet the child to be. The
youngett child it affected b^ the conduct of thote in
whoae armi he Uvea. Cultivate and expreia benevo-
lence and cheerfiilnett; in tuch an atmotphere a child
mutt become benevolent and cheerful. Let a mother
feel <u she ought, and the will looh at Ae/eel*. Much
of a chUd't earliett moral training it by looki and gei-
turei. When neoettary, exhibit flrmnoat and autho-
rity, alwayt with perfect temper, compoture, and telf-
poiteiiion. Never give the child that which it cries
for; and avoid being too ready in antwering children't
demandt, elte they become impatient of refuial, and
iclfith. When the child Ui moit violent, the mother
ihottld be moit calm and lilent. Out-tcreaming a
acreaming child ia at uteleii at it it mitchievoui.
Steady denial of the object icieamed for it the beat

oura for iseaming. In aach eontaata. wltneiaaa thould
withdraw, and leave mother and child aUma. A ehild
ia vary ready to look round and attiaet tha aid of
/oreig» aympathy in lU little rebeUiona. Never pto-
miaa to give when tha child leavea off crying i let we
crying be the reaton for nol givbg. Conttant waninit,
raprooft, thraatt, and intreatlea-aa, let that a / cwa -6«
9«b— Aow MH^i, POH are, be. all uttered in haaU
and irritation, are moat pamiciout. No fixed or dafbiita
m. .Ik; improvement, but the reverie, nwulta tnm thia
too common praotioe. Watch dettruotivanaat, thown
in fly and intect-kUliug, and tmathing and breaking,
quarrelling, ttriking, fco. Never encourage revenga.
Never allow a child to witneta tha killing of animalB.
Counterwork tacrativeneat by expoting ita mamauvraa.
Regulate notiont '>f property—one't own and anothar't.
Never ttrike a child, and never teach it to atrika again.
Never tall a child to beat or threaten any animal or
object. Corporal correction may be avoided by judi-
cloua tubttitutoi. Set an example of oleanlineta, order,
punctuality, delicacy, politeneai, and proper aaae of
manner. Thit ia better than teaching memiure, aa
it ia called. Inculcate early, and manifeit in yonr-
telf, a delicate regard for the rightt of othera and
their feelingt, in contratt with telflth vanity, anro-
ganoe, and axolutive attention to one'i own eaaa,
comfort, and gratification. Prevent all indelioaciaa
and tloveiily habitt at table — touching tha uteniila,
itretching for what it wanted, titting awkwardly, Jco.
Study early to gain a child't confidence by judloioua
tympathy in itt joyt and torrowi. Have no conceal-
ment with it. Qovem by love, and not by fear : the
contratt between children govi' nd by the one and the
other ia truly Inatructive. Ne ■ ui- forset that kindnati
it power fitb man and beaat. The Arab never etrikee
hie hone. Cultivate truth, juitioe, and candour in the
child, and manifett them in yourtelf. With a child
whote firameia ia apt to run into obitinacy, never con-
tend; in doing to, you aggravate the feeling by mani-
feiting the tame fealinglu yourtelf; and oy further
ihowing your combativeneet, exciting the child'a oppo-
tition. Divert the child from the object, and put in
activity itt benevolence, juttice, and reaton. Never
frighten to obtain a child't obedience : threatt of hob-
goblint, and all falae terrora, are mott iiyurioua in
their direct effecti, and being generally diiicovared to
be faliehoodt, operate moit immorally.

We beg to conclude the tection with the following
remarki from Dr Combe'i excellent manual for the
management of infancy: — * It ia a commt. i and per-
niciout error i.n modem education, that thj naialona
and moral emotioui implanted in tha human mind
are the reiulti of intellectual cultivation ; thi t intel-
lectual ditcipline will tuffice to regulate them. Under
tbii mistaken notion, parents are often disappointed
and displeased with a child, when, after a Aill expla-
nation of the impropriety of the feeling or pattion, it
ttill, on the recurrence of the temptation, givei way to
it at much aa before. I have known a father, under
thit falte imprenion, lecture, and threaten, and puniah
hit child, and take every way to correct it but the right
one. Fortunately for mankmd, however, morality and
religion have a much more lolid foundation than a mere
deduction from an erring intellect. They are bated on
feelinsi implanted in the very nature of man, and which
mere uitellectual cultivation or neglect can neither gene-
rate nor deitroy; and their real itrength and authority
will not be fully recogniied, till they are cheriahed and
developed in itriot accordance with their natural con-
■titution. Like the external lentei, they mutt be ha-

bitually exercited upon their appropriate objects — in
worshipping the true Ood, and in doing juatice, ajid
loving mercy — before they can attain their proper in-
fluence over the character, and their true authority in
regulating human conduct. From almott the firtt hour
of exiitence, thit principle thould be syttematically
acted upon, and the utmost care be taken to secure at
all times a healthy moral atmosphere for the younff.
To do perfect justice to the infant, there is required,

607

OHAMBBBS'S TSWfmLimOMWOn TEE FKOFLB.

AH the part «f the mother, » wmbinatioK of dieerfM
MtititT, good Mnie, ktiowMge, rtfMlineM of TeMtuiee,
and mtnuinf kindnen uid impurtiftlity, whith it net
often to be met with. Bat by Kimihg st « high itM-
dud, we ehall make a nearer approximation to what is
iaqair(Nl than if we reit tatitfled in indifl^renoe with
itltaterer oocart. It is lamentable to reflect how
nnmeroui are thoee motheri' who, from indolence or
oUier eautee, leare the entire Control of their ofifpring
io an unqttriifled attendant, and even themielree ^re
Mr to eiprenioni of anger or CM>rioe, iriiich cannot
flUl to act utjurioaBly upon the innnt mind. Let at,
then, not deoelTe ounelvet, but ever bear in mind, that
what We deeire our children to become, we muit en-
dearour to' be l>efore them. If we wi«h them to grow
up kind, gentle, affisutionate, upright; and true, we
muit habitually exhibit the lame qualitiei aa regu-
lating principles in our conduct, because these qualities
•ct aa 10 many stimuli to therespeetire faculties in the
^ild. If we cannot restrain our own passions, but at
one time orerwhelm the young with kindneas, and at
smother surprise and confound them by our caprice or
deeeit, we may with as much reason expect to gather
gnqwe £rom thistles, or flgs from thorns, as to derelop
sooral purity and simplicity of character in them. It
is T dn to argue that, lacause the infant intellect is
ftteble, it cannot detect the inconsistency which we prac-
tise. The feeliiigs and teasoning ihculties being per-
AoUy distinct from each other, may, and sometimes do,
' Mt independently ; and the feellugs at once condemn,
stlthoi^^ the judgment may be unable to assign a rea-
aon for doing so. Here is another of the many admi-
rable proofs which we meet with in the animal economy
of the harmony and beauty whi'h perrade all the works
of God, and which render it impossible to pursue a
right course, without also doing collateral good, or to
punue a wrong course without producing collateral
•Til. If the mother, for example, controls her own
tan^ for the sake of her child, and endeavours syste-
mattcallT to seek the guidaiice of her higher and pure
feelings in her general conduct, the good which results
ii net limited to the consequent improrement of tlie
«faild. She herself becomes healthier and happier,
' and erery day adds to the pleasure of success. If the
SBother, on tlie other hand, givea way to fits ef passion,
•elfishness, caprioe, and injoatiee, the ctU is by no means
United to the su Arina which she brings upon herself.
Her ohiid also su&rs, both in disposition and in happi-
siess; and while the mother secures, in the one case,
the love and regard of all who come into communica-
tion with her, she rouses, in the other, only their fear
<or their dislike.' . ji -> . ^jii' j-.r •

1 11^ sl^^fiis ,«;iLiiiitj

INTELLECTUAt; 1£ttCAtl6V.

By intellectual education we hold it to be implied
that the human intellect, originally a mere instrument
ready to be exerted, requires, for the full development
of ite powers, and subsequently, (ot the ready use of
those powers, the application of certain extemal stimuli,
and the ii»roe and zm;ulation of a certain discipline ; also
4hat the intellect, besides being thus improved in its
<own chartvcter and energies, requires to be possessed of
certain knowledge and certain aoooupUshmenta, in order
4o a proper performance of the various duties of life.
W* shall not stop to make a nice investigation as to the
Tarleut iiowen of the intellect and their modes of acting,
but at once assume that, with senses serving as media
t(a the access of impressions from the exten>al world,
it includes powers which can take cognisance of things,
or peroeii«, and powers which can compare things, and
trace their connection in cause and cnect (reflecting);
these having various modes of action recognised as
joemory, SMociation, ice.; and tliat these various media,

foveia, and modes of operation may all ba improved
y use and exercise. (&e» Human Mikd, No. 71.)
Jatellectual edueation properly begins with the first

Smptonu of consciousness in the inmnt — the first in-
mtions that the senses Mid internal observing powers,
66S

the gOHM of which exist in the youngest infant, are
beginning to operate.

The senses leqaite the earliest attention of the nursa,
Sight, hearing, and toueh are, in a veiy short time
after birth, in obvious aetlvity: but they require at
first to be rmr delicately treated. Exposuie to bright
lights, and sudden loud sounds, has produced blindness
and deafhesB fbr life. Both sense* should be brought
on gradually. These, as well a* toueh, should then be
judiciously exerdaed upon their own objects, placed at
difierent and 'ncrsasing audible and visible distanoes,
till at great distances objects can be seen and alight
sounds heard. Objects should also be touched blindfold,
and disoriminated. Smell and taste are improvable
by similar means. It would form an extremely inte-
resting occupation to an intelligent nurse, for many a
moment of ennui which she now endures, in her care
of aa infant, to exercise its senses on their appropriate
objects. When nothing is done, or when the child is
shut up in a small room with no range of vision, not
only is no progress made, but there is great danger of
short-sip^tedneu being either induced or aggravated.

Leaving the extemal senses, and advancing to the
internal faculties of the mind — the powers of feeling,
obaerving, and thinking — wo may remark that the brain,
which is as much the instrument of these powers as
the eyes and ears are of their respective extemal senses,
is at birth, and for some time after it, too imperfect
and delicate in its substance for active ui^ifestation.
The desire of food, and sensibility to bodily pain, alone
appear, and are indeed all that are then necessanr.
But the more delicate the brain, the more delicately
ought it to be treated; for an injury to it may produce
idiocy or imbecility for life. In the exercise and culti-
vation of the intellectual organs, it has been found, from^
experience, that great caution is required. It is here
that the brain is most apt to bo overworked; and it is
here that that premature activity, called jntcocity, ap-
pears. Under the head Precocity, Mrs Harwell gives
the following emphatic counsel: — 'When a child ap-
pears to be over-<n(e2/i|i^/, or too clever or wuk for its
age, this is a symptom of unnatural development of the
brain ; it is a kind of disease which often ends fatally.
Avoid, iJberefore, exercising the child's abUitg ; treat it
as an animal, with nutritive food, muscular out-door
exercise, and plenty of sleep; and do thir^and thiaonly,
for some years.' We allude to the sul ject of preco-
city thus early, in treating of intellectua.' training, be-
cause its indications often appear in very euly ir.»ncy,
and erroneous treatment cannot be too soon t voided.

Before two years of age much iroportkiit ibtellec-
tual education is going on. It is not the education
of books; it is gradual introduction to surrounding
objects. How early the eyes are used to gaze at,
and the hands stretched out to grasp and become
familiar with, everything presented or observed, need
not be here insisted on. A judicious nurse will direct
this impulse of nature, and much assist this self-educa-
tion, so that the earliest impressions may be made by
such objects OS form the materials of existence, ond
their qualities, never to be eflTaced in after-Ufe; while
the observing faculties will have a healthier growth,
by meaits of ai> easy and pleasingly-directed exercise.
Modem educationists have often complained of a pre-
valent want, in people of all ages, of what mav ])e
called obtervativenets — the power or rather habit of
noticing what is before and around us. Multitude*
pass through life, of whom it may be said that they
have missed four objects in five which came in their
way. This oould be met in early infancy by taking the
proper means of establishing habits of observation.
' Look here;' * see this;' ' feel that;' ' weish the
other thing;' ' what beautiful colours;' ' smell that
flower,' should be the simple and constant lessons of
the nurse; and she would find both the intellect and
dispositions of the child improved by such exercise.
The contrast in after-life between children so trained,
and those who never observe anything, would be both
striking and instructive. (>)

mnjCitmoTS.

ly ir.fanoy,
voided,
iiitellec-
education
mounding
gaze at,
become
'Ted, ne«d
will direct
lelf-educa-
made by
tence, and
life; while
er growth,
d exerciac.
of a pre-
nia^ lie
habit of
tfultitudei
that they
in their
taking the
Mervation.
reigh the
iinell that
leiioni of
ellect and
exerciie.
trained,
. he both

FiOM Tw!«TO Six Yeabsof AaK-^-Intellectually pre*
pared by the nurse up to the point at which we have
arrived — when the child haa reached the age of two
vean, and when, if it can Inrany means be so arranged,
he or she should join an Infant School — the intellectual
education will, so to speak, take a more scholaetic form.
The lessons will be somewhat more systematic, and
suited for the sim.iltaneous attention of numbers. But
stUI the caution will never be lost sight of, that, from
two to six, the intellectual exercises should be light and
attractive, and never long continued at one time; air,
exercise, and play, regularly alternating with instruc-
tion. The paramount object at that period of life, let
it never be forgotten, is moral training ; to which ob-
ject companions of the same ag^, in considerable num-
ber, are as essential as light is to the exercise of the
eyes, or air to that of the lungs. Benevolence, truth,
justice, honesty, attachment, all imply companions.
AUhough at that age the intellectual training is secon-
dary when compared vrith the moral, yet, without task-
ing the infant faculties, without giving to the pursuits
any character less attractive than regulated play, a
great degree of intellectual acquisition and improve-
ment may be realised.

The introduction which the child has received in the
nursery to the material world, will form a stage in his
progress for the more systematic teaching from two to
six years of age. Objeeta will still be the maUrid of
his studies; but they will be so arranged and classed
as to conduct him through a complete knowledge of the
external features, qualities, and uses — short of their
chemical composition — of nearly all the objects with
which ordinary life is conversant: simple objects, parts
of objects, objects natural and artificial, mineral, veget-
able, animal, with their parts, conditions, differences,
agreements, manufacture, and abstract qualities, and
CMSsifioation of objects by resemblances and differences.
In these exercises several hundred useful ideas may be
imparted ; all of them made real by the connection of
each with some material type.

Simultaneously and incidentally, the words express-
ing the objects and their qualities, &c. will be given,
and, in connection with the object, will never be for-
gotten. Incidentally, too, the word will be exhibited
printed, and so read as well as pronounced, and likewise
spelled. The letters of the alphabet will be separately
taught as objects. This learning of things and words
together will be found beneficial as to both. When the
senses are explained, which we assume has been done,
the exercise will be easy and improving which connects
the objects with each sense, or with several at a time;
in other words, whether the pupil has seen, heard,
touched, smelled, tasted, or weighed the object or its
quality. Thus without a task, almost insensibly, and
as it were at play, the child in four years will have
attained a sum of knowledge of great extent and value,
which will form the basis of an enlarged mind in after-
life, and prepare for the future acquisitions of science
and philosophy. The rule should be rigidly observed,
that no object in nature or art should ever be spoken
of to a child writhout an endeavour being made to pre-
sent it to him either in reality, model, or drawing, and
this practice should be continued till the object has
become familiar to him.

Between two and .lix, besides the acquisition of know-
ledge of objects, much elementary knowledge may be
gradualW, easily, and almost insensibly, imparted:
the simpler geoginphy — arithmetic by means of Wilder-
spin's ball-frame, or arithToeticon — the pence-table —
weights and measures— letters, syllables, words, lessons
on pictures, of animals, &c. — lessons on maxims moral
and prudential — anecdotes and stories with a moral
and improving tendency, told elliptically — that is, by
words being left out for the children to supply, &c.
At this age the vocal powers and musical ear should be
exercised, which is both amusir>g and instructive to
the children ; many of the lessons may be sung. Much
knowledge of common and useful things connected with
life and manners may be communicated at this age

with an impt««tion that will Beror be efiaced. LeMou^
too, connected with exercise in the practice, may be
given on the benefits of cleanliness, ventilation, tempe.-
ranoe, with all the evil effiicts of their oontrancs;
while prejudices, fallacies, tyrannies, cruelties, uqfair-
nesses, selfishnesses, bad habits, &a all of which, ope-
rate so miKhievously on society, may be met by ac^i-
cipation in lessons and counter-practice, so as to be
avoided in after-life. It is plain that the moral and
intellectual training must proceed hand in hand. O

Fboh Six to Fourtbbn Yeabs op Aqe. — In a rightly
arranged and complete course of elementary intulec-
tual Mlttcation, it is presumed that the period from two
to six years of age has been spent in an Infant School.
The enisct which such a preparation has in facilitating
the subsequent operations of the teacher is so great,
that every effort should be made to give children the
advantage of i^.

From six to fourteen is the period of the elementary
schools. This is the time during which children, be-
sides having their moral education carried on efficiently,
are to be introduced to those branches of instruction
which are necessary for the business of life — a process
which includes within itself the exercise and develop-
ment of the intellectual faculties, and the formation of
habits of intellectual application and taste.

The two great questions are, what is to be taught 1
and how are we to teach itt Mother tongue — the
power of reading it, acquaintance with its grammatical
structure, and with the exact meanings of its words, and
the power of composing it with fluency and elegance —
is certainly entitled to the first attention. There are
three modes of teaching it : — First, the old practice of
instructing children in it by rote, without regarding
whether they ever thoroughly comprehend a single syl-
lable of it, or are ultimately able to make the least use
of it. Second, what is called the Explanatory Method,
now uniformly practised in all well-conducted semi-
naries, whereby it is at least secured that the pupils
have some syuonyme for every term that comes under
their notice, so as to give some reason to believe that
they understand it. Tfiird, the Exhibitory Method,
which adds to other expedients that of showing, in all
possible cases, the objects referred lo in lessons, or
at least presenting drawings of them on a black board
or otherwise. Considering how little the young are
prepared for the abstract, and how eagerly, under a
natural impulse, they grasp at the tangible, we need
scarcely remark that the last method appears to us
OS one of which advantage should be taken as far as
possible. t

The first step may be a regular series of lessons on
the consonants, single and compound, as they occur
both at the beginnings and ends of words. In the
selection of monosyllabic words for this purpose, care
should be taken, for obvious reasons, to avoid such as
refer to coarse and mean ideas. The powers of single
vowels being thus also taught, it will be proper next to
advance to words in which double vowels or digraphs
are exemplified ; and so on, as in the work here re-
ferred to. (3) The lessons for practice should consist
of sentences of such a nature as to admit of amusing
explanation and illustration by sketches on the black
board, and by sensible object.).

1. Names of things will perhaps be best explained by
showing the object itself, or its picture, and by asking
the children to tell what they know about the object.
Their own simple definitions are very often the best.

2. Names cf qualities may be taught by requesting
children to name objects that have the quality. For
example, to explain deep—* Tell me anything that is
deep?' The following have been named — * The sea, a
well, a coal-pit, a canal.'

3. Names of actions, by performing the action named,
or describing it by some mteresting anecdote, so as to
show practically the meaning of the word.

These suggestions may by some be considered trifling
and childiui, but a proper trial is requested, and the
result will show whether children make more real im-

£68

oHAUBBBcra unroiMAfKnr fOB thb pboplx.

BRrranant by th* •!»*« tfmpl* and obrlou Mp«-
oitnti^ or by Mng * cnnnad ' with elymologioal era-
ditlM and dloUonaiy dtfialtioDi. (*)

OnumuMr will inddanteUir aooompaiiT th* Twtding,
in tlia fonn of pairing. Bjr wnat ii oallod tho ineidtiUai
MwlMtd muoh adrantago ia gained: knowledgo of an
objMt and ita qualitiM ia obtainad t ita nama if pro-
noonoad, writtan dowui and read ; while ita detoription
ia read and paraed t all which ezeroiaea, inttead of im-
peding, aetualljr aid and facilitate each other. A judi-
oiouB aztenaion of tlie incidental method may bo made
one of the moat important meana of adraucing popu-
lar education. Leuning to apell orally columna of a
book, ii a waate of time, and an irkiome labour. We
apell only when we write ; and the power ia really not
attained b7 the old aohool ezerciie of apelling, but by
reading; the worda become fiuniliar to the eye aa tpe-
e\fieform$. No one who reads much can remain a bad
orthognwher ; and no one writes much who has not
preriouBly read a great deal more.

SimpU Leuoiu in Rtadmg. — ^The child may now
make a step forward In the art of reading and spell-
ing, and b« prepared for more methodical intellec-
tual culture. At the same time, in order to amuse,
and induce reading for the pleasure it etmmunieatet,
the subjects of the lessons snould be of that species
of narratire which delights the infant mind, bearing,
in each case, a reference to the perceptions of the
pupil, or tending to encourage in him a lore of the
beautiful in nature. Instead of the old tinprofitable
reading and apelling in achools, the improyed plan of
instruction in English consists of— ^r«(, Correct read-
ing, diriding and spelling of words; meaning by spell-
ing not the laborious and useless committal to me-
moir of whole columns of spelled words, but, 1, nam-
ing lettera singly by their jwwera, grouping them into
qrUables, and these asain into words, so as to read a
language; 2, putting down letters on paper, in proper
number, order, &c. so as to produce a combination ex-

gresaire of aound, and thus write a language. Spelling
I acquired by constant practice in reading, writing from
dictation, copying pieces from good authors, composing
and correcting original essays, and performing syste-
matic grammatical exercises. Second, Understanding
what if read — ^proved by searching examination, and
UlustratiTely uded by real obiects. What is called the
elliptioJ method is here much used, the child supply-
ing the omitted words, and reoeiriug, according to the
skill and information of the teacher, much collateral
information. Very simple idaaa only ought to be called
up, and such matters alluded to aa may be supposed to
interest and encourage the dawning faculties. We
cannot too earnestly recommend the practice of illus-
tration bv pictures and sensible objects. The Mack board
and chaik should be in constant use, and erery teacher
should qualify himaelf to draw ready off-hand sketchea.
The rudeat outline done on the spot excitea more inte-
rest than the finest engraving. The lesaona themaelres,
in detail, are eiTen in the work here referred to. C^)
The curiosity of jroung persons is necessarily first excited
by the things which iT* most immediately around them,
and the circumstanceb and procedure of familiar life.
These are the subjects of their earliest inquiries, and it
is extremely desirable that clear, distinct, and correct
explanations of them should l>e iuTariably given. Most
parents of intelligent and well-regulated minds take
care that such should I>e the nature of the answers
given to the first inquiries of children; but it is need-
less to point out, tliat many persons who have children
under tneir care, either possess not the ability, or hare
not the necessary leisure, or will not be at the pains,
to give correct and satisfactory answers. Lesfons snould
be given which ftim strictly at an explanation of eaier-
nalappearancet in the natural and social world. Prin-
eiptee are for suluequent study. The aubjects may be
auch aa the following : — Of Ood and the works of crea-
tion; of animated creatures; of mankind; of the coun-
try; procaaaes of husbandly; common inanimate objects;
and the more familiar arts. ('}
6J0

In alamantanr adooaMon, after some progiaaa haa
been made in the power of reading, tha different oon>
ditiona of a child at about aaran, and at from ten to
fourteen yaara of age, auggaat tha naoeaaity of two
aeriaa or eouraea of inatructlon— one of an uementuy
or primer-like character, the other more advaaoed, but
both going wet aaarly the aame ground, Thia ia the
more neceaaaiy, af ao many ohildren are taken from
achool about ten yeara of age. In the conatmction of a
aeriea of achool-booka, already more than once quoted,
we have prooeeded ao far upon thia arrangement, moat
of tha TOlumes of the adiumoed section of the course
being foreshadowed in that wliioh may be called the
preliminarj/. We observe the same arrangement on the
preaent occaaiou : —

FrtUminaiy.

Introduction to Oeography. — ^The pupil havinff, in the
Infimt School, had aome inatruction in the aimnleat ele-
menta of geography, may, in hia seventh or eighth year,
pursue the study more rMuIarly. Lessons may now
be given which will suit those whose education allows
but a small portion of time for geography->-laaaona cal-
culated to impress a fair measure of that most useflil
knowledge even on the future manual labourer. These
need not give copious lists of localities, capes, bays,
districts, and towns, it being presumed that the learner
has maps before him on which he will be exercised.
He cannot, moreover, be introduced too early to Uie
Globe, for the apherical aa well aa relative poaition of
its great divisions, with their latitude and longitude.
Proportion should also be impressed upon him; this
is apt to be confused by maps of different sizes. The
relative situation of countries need not be much ad-
verted to, that being best learned on the maps. Th^
chief attention should be devoted to the eharai^ers,
phytUal and poUtioal, (ff the countries. The plan should
be followed of treating, generally, in the first place,
of the plants, animals, and races of men, in the diffe-
rent reeions; and in the second, of the most important
particulars peculiar to eadi country, which cannot be
brought under general heada. With the mapa and
globe alwava berore the pupil, much uaeful information
may by thia method be convqred. (^B-to)

Wrimg. — ^Thia b entirely an art, to be acquired by
practice, with the aasistance, first of a skilled teacher,
to train to the mode of sittine,of holding the pen, &c.;
and second, of suitable exemplars of the various kinds of
writing (*^-*^. A free and bold practice on sand tablets
or with chalk upon a black boara, would probably form
a good introduction to the art of cali^phv. It was by
such means, under the guidance of his father, tliat the
oelebrated Person acquired that accomplishment of
singularly elecant writine, for which he was scarcely
less remarkable than for his extraordinary attainments
in classical literature.

IntroduetUm to Arithmetic. — ^The simplest elements
of arithmetic are presumed also to have oeen taught in
the Infant School, bv means of the instrument called
the Arithmetioon. In this early school period it may
be pursued by means of regular exercises wrought upon
slates, according to the rules presfnted in an appro-
priate I>ook. An active teacher may also do much for
this part of scl^ool education by conducting mental
exercises, or exercises in which no sensible figures are
used. It is found an excellent diMipline for giving
habits of attention and concentration. ('*)

Introduction to Engtith Composition. — Tho pupil may
be at this early period introduced to English composi-
tion. We recommend the modem plan of teaching the
rules last. Let the pupil successively compose and write
down nouns; then their qualities, or adjectives; then
the action or change, or verbs. He lias been a com-
poser from the moment he began as a child to prattle.
Let him go on, and he will insensibly infer the essential
laws of language, by his own experience and liis teacher's
hints, more rationally and more thoroughlv than from
a system of grammatical rules, necessarily diy, irksome,
and repulsive. In giving these lessons on composition,

BDUCAHON.

the following niggMtiou will be attended tor— 1. It if
■ugteited tl»t,pieTiouBlT to a pupil'a entering on com-
ponlion, he should ipend a few weelu in copying, with
great aocurae/. rhort pieoee in proie from some good
author. This wi' nro the habit of neatneM and exact-
neu in tho -i; ^ointi, capitali, &o. and if carefully
managed, will < an excellent preliminary exerciie.

rided with a qu

2. Each pupi' ., \>uld be provide

quantity of

common paper foi the Kroll copr, an exeroiie-book' for
tranicribmg, and thii text-book. 8. Let the teaoher
place fifteen or twenty familiar objecti on a table or
deik before the clan, and requeit the pupils to comply
with the direction in the first lesson, by writing on she
spot the names of the articles; and so on with the
other lessons, in order. 4. When the lists are finished,
they should be exchanged, and eadi pupil should cor-
rect the spelling, &o. of his neighbour's work. 5.
This done, the papers may be returned to their owners,
for the purpose of their reviewing the criticisms; and
all should be enoouraced to protest against iklse cor-
rections. 6. The tea«£er should then pass round the
class, deciding disputed points, expli^ug the ground
of each decision, questioning the pupils, and aUowing
them freely to question him. 7. The scroll-copy thus
corrected should be taken home by its owner, neativ
transcribed into the exercise-book, which, duly dated,
dtould be handed to the teacher next day. 8, The
teacher may then mark the errors in the transcript,
asking the pupils to show the cause of each correction.
9. The exercise-book should then be returned to the
owner, with a number (in the teacher's handwriting)
indicating the rank of the exercise. 10. At the end of
each lesson, the pupils should be questioned oir the
parts of speech employed, meaning of words, knowledge
guned, be. 11. The pupils should use hlaek ink m
writing the exercise, and red in correcting. The
teacher's criticisms, remarks, and numbers should be
in blue ink. These distinctions, though apparently
trifling, will be found important. 12. Three or four
lessons may be given weekly, according to circum-
stances. Less than half an hour will suffice for writing
each exercise, and little more than that time will be
required for correction. The lessons will proceed from
objects to qualities and actions, each embracing a very
wide field of exercise. (8) The derivation of words
from other languages, technically Ettmolooy, both
simplo and compound, may at the same time be an
incidental exercise, (")

Introduction to ike Se\enea. — The pupil has hitherto
been conversant with the external features of objects,
and the ordinary uses to which they are put. At the
age of nine or ten he may be gradually introduced to
philosophical ;priwAplei — to a connected and systematic
view 01 nature, the most obvious parts of which it is
composed, and the laws by which it is governed. The
subjects will be — the extent of the material world; the
stars, solar system, the earth as a planet, the moon,
eclipses, masses of matter — their attractions and mo-
tions; the earth — its general superficial features, its
structure; the soil, the atmosphere, heat, light, electri-
city, and magnetism; evaporatios, clouds, rain, frost,
ice, snow, the winds; elements of matter — their com-
binations ; the vegetable creation ; animal creation ;
man — his general chanuiter and history, his bodily na-
ture, his mental nature. (^

Rudiments o/Afusio. — About this stage of education,
the pupil may be introduced to the principles and rules
of voci^ music. This is invariably a branch of educa-
tion in several continental countries, and is attracting
marked attention in Britain. In the Infant School we
have already recommended bimple singing by the ear;
the pupil ma^ now not only study musical rules, but
learn to sing uom notes.

series of conntriei, he will itady lit rftaaMoB, exteiil,
division, and general detail of loealitiM; aflar whleh
will come its physical geography, ineluding anperfidal
features, climi^ soil, and vegetable productions, mine-
rals, animals, natuial euriodties; next, its historieal
geography, including remarkable events, antiqoities;
its poutiml geogn^y, ineludinc its dvil state, n-
and ecdeaiastieal ~'"^" " '^"

venue, army and navy,

id navy.

its

Advanced.

Oeogmphy.—A jMX or two after the pupil has mas-
tered the Geographical Primer, he may proceed to study
geography in a more enlarged and generally informing
maimer. (Si-S?) Taking England as the first of a

sodal geography, induding Its national character, lan-
guage, literature, arte and sciences, manuiheturea and
commerce. In tlius studying the geography of parti-
cular countries, a constant reference to maps Is neces-
sary. By having these sufficiently large, and the
natural features stronsly marked, as in the series here
referred to (^-^), a wnole class can leain at once.
Arithmelio and Cframmar. — These branches are now

gursued on more comprehensive plans, and with a deeper
ivestigation of principles. In connection with the mt-
mer (^ stands book-keeping Q«); with the latter (">)
etymoliM^ and composition — all of which will now be
thorougUy mastered, as technicalities of the greatest
importance for the business of life.

Drauting. — This is an art, of the same character as
writing, less imperatively necessary, but yet entitled to
more attention than is generally paid to it. Its ele-
ments may be acquired by all, and are calculated to
be useful in many circumstances throughout life.
These may be taught by the use of chiuk upon c
black board. The objects should be the simplest
delineations of common thines, beginning with prac-
tice in straight and curved bnes, and proceeding to a
paling, a wall, a gate, a guide-post, a house, a rustic
bridge, utensils, tools, and implements, flowers, pat-
terns, and animals. On the black boar<|, the chalk,
compasses, and rule mav be employed ; on the slate,
only the hand and eye should be used at this stage of
the youns pupil's progress. Deeper lines will show
foregrounds — bghter, backgrounds; and thus the first
notions may be given of atrial perspective. ^ ren-
dering universal some instruction in drawing of com-
mon objects, real talent, where it exists, will never
be concealed ; while much pleasure will be derived
from efibrts far short of those of the higher order of
genius. (**)

The pupil will in due time advance to the elements
of drawing and perspective, and the art of sketching
from nature. (^) Terms in the art of perspective
should be explained to him, and figures delineated,
which are nothing more than the simpler geou.etrical
diagrams. The sector, visual rays, pomts of sight, all
the rules of perspective, should be plainly and intel-
ligibly laid down. Black-lead pencil-dravring, charac-
ters of foliage, light and shade, and tinting ; styles and
modes of treatment in sketchmg from nature, both
landscape and figures, with the rules for arrangement
and effect, should all be made plain to and practised
by the pupil, the teacher guiding his efibrts. We mapr
remark here, and the observation is of general appli-
cation, that the teacLer must keep in mind that intel-
lectual powers are bestowed on different individuals in
different degrees; and such differences must be allowed
for. It wUT soon be seen whether the pupil possesses
powerfully the drawing or pictorial faculties. If he
does not, he should never be pushed beyond the
simplest elements of the art. The same is true of
other branches of study.

Natural or Mechanieal PAtfo«M)Ay.— The pupil, now
advancing to his eleventh and twelfth year, may proceed
to the elements of mechanical philosophy, by custom,
though too extensively, called tMturtu philosophy or
physic* ; seeing that, under that denomination, chemis-
try and even natural history have as good a claim to
be ranked. It is a question whether this branch of
physical science, or chemistry, should be studied first.
We think they may, in their elements, proceed to-
gether ; but if singly, it seems rather more natural to
attend to the more visible and tangible properties and
powers of matter, unchanged in its substance, than to
those that require fh change in the constitution of mat-

571

OHAMBBBffS DITOBail«ll«S >10B THS PBOl*Lie.

tar, afttn ittd««li«etif« aiuljrria, towMMtoin ito com-
poiiUon. AU ■kottld^beiiuniliAr with th* laws of m»tt«r
•ad motion — witik instt«r^ impenetmbility, eiteniion,
flguK, dii>i«bilitT, iMTti*, ftttnetion, eolietioii, <»pil-
Lu7 ftttiMtioBteMmicAl fettrMtion, munetlo attntotion,

SraTitatioBt n^liion, hratt en^ratlon, contraction,
inition, dwiitv, ipflcific gnrity, comprenibility, elu-
dtj, dllatabillty ; witli motion and fotoai, wci^iit in
filling l>odiea, centre of gravity, pendulum, centrifugal
force, projectiles, action and reaction, motion in elaetic
bodiei, reflected motion, compoeitioa gf motion and of
foicee. (M)

Mtehanic* aitd Afachitury.—'Vht pupil, after haTing
attained a competent knowledge of the above parti-
nulan, may proceed to study the mechanical powers and
their philosophy — the lever, pulley, and inclined plane,
which are the primary muchanical powers ; while from
the lever and inclined plane come the other three, or
secondary mechanical powers — the wheel and axle from
the lever, and the wedge and the screw firom the in-
clined plane. The combinations of mechanical powers,
friction, human labour, hoise.power, draught, water-
power, and steam-power, and all the Kieuce of ma-
chinery, will naturally follow. (^)

HyiroiUttic*, Hydraulie$, and Pntumatiu will next
in order engase the pupil's attention ; and he should
not be suffered to proceed without having mastered, by
the test of strict and searching examination, the pre-
tIous subjects, which form a series.

When he has become familiar with the mechanics
of solids, he will proceed to the study of the laws of
fluids, including tho aeriform fluids. The hydrostatical
part embraces pressure of water, levels, specific gravity,
fluid support, &c. Under hvdrauHcB — the hydraulic
press, aqueducts, fountains, motion between fluids and
solids, action of water in rivers, waves, change of tem-
perature, &c.

Under pneumatics are comprised — the atmosphere,
laws of air, pressure of air, the air-pump, pressure of
air on solids and liquids, on mercury; the barometer,
pumps, siphons, steam, latent heat, winds, sea and land
breezes, ventilation, divine-bell, buoyant pn^Mvty of
aSrifonn fluids, balloons. (»)

Optki, Aemutict, AUronomy, Blectritity, and' Me-
teorologv, will complete a course of natural philo-
•ophT.(i«»»)

ChemUtry. — It will now be time to lay a foundation
for the pupil's future progress in chemical science, and
at the same time impart to him a practical knowledge
of the chemical laws and operations whieh ore at work
around him in daily life. (") Such are reSpirKtion,
combustion, heat, light, water, poifeonous gases$- these
are all matters upon which comfort, health, and life
itself may depend. The teacher should begin with
showing experiments, and shonld be possasMd of a
museum of substances and chemical sgents, with an
apparatus.

AninuA Fhynology. — The important purpow served
by including this subject in juvenile education, is the
preservation of health, not its restoration when lost;
the preveniion of disease, not its cure, with which lost
the ignorant cannot be trusted. It ought to be im-
pressed as a maxim, that although we ought not to be
our own doctors, we need not b« our own destroyers.
We ourselves can bear testimony to the successful
introduction of this study in several schools ; uid to
the interest taken by the pupils of both sexes, from
nine to twelve years of age, in the lessons, which are il-
lustrated, as they ought always to be, by diagrams. (^2)

Mental Philoiopky. — This is a department of science
which it is the fashion of our age to overlook. Yet
what can be more important than a knowledge of that
wonderful power by which we think and act, and which
more especially connects us with the things above and
berond this humble and transitory scene I No service-
able manual as yet exists for imparting a knowledge of
mind in schools; but an intelligent master has it in his
power to do much by oral iustruotioii.

Maihematic*. — This important branch of study can-
572

no* b« omitted h dttaentafT •dmslien. >n Its widest
sense, it la that seianoe whtA treats of meanirable
quantity, in magnitude and in nambar. Obamttry is
the btanoh of mathematics whioh treats of that species
of fttaatity called magnitude, both theiMtically and
pnwtioally. Theoretical geometry investigate* tne re-
lations and pMperties of magnitudes la «bl«* dlmen-
sions-^aa lines, surfisoes, and solids. Although mag-
nitudes have no mattrial existence, they may be repre-
sented by diagrams. That branch of geontatiy wMdi
relates to magnitudes described on a plane, is called
Plane Geometry. This requires six elemental^ bo6ks~-
a book oil the quadrature and reotiflcation of the dnde,
a book on mometriaal maxima and minima, an expo-
sition of the method of seometrioal analysis, and an
additional second and fifth book. The basis of the first
six books should be tha < Elements of Euclid,' as given in
the very eorreot edition by Slmson, with the improved
fifth book by Playfair, aad the other improvements of
the latter geametridan contained in his on j^nal edition
ftf Guolid's <£lemcnts.' The pupil will pfteeed with the
definitions, postulates^ and axioms. (>V) Solid aad sphe-
rical geometry and conic sections <"■) will next ennge
the papil ; and finally, the elemeate of algebra. (>7)

EloaMon may be Uie next pursuit of ue pupil. In
this branch of study the subjects of articulation, in-
flection, modulation, and the measure of speech will be
familiarly explained. Q'*)

Hittory, &o.— History and Uography are important
branches of iuformation, of which it is well to acquire
the elements at school. The history of the mother
countnr, its literature, and |;reat men, has the most
immediate claim upon attention; after which come the
histories of the countries to which geographical andi
political circumstances, or any other cause, have given!
importauoe in our estimation. (37-41)

aatwal Hittory.— Aa a study for the two last years
of the fourteen, ought to be reserved natural history,
which is better ui^erstood, and more beneficially ac-
quired after than before the study of the elements of
diemistry and mechanical philosophy. The pupil, in
this branch, will leani to distinguish the animal, vege-
table (3*), and mineral kingdoms; the atmosphere and
it* phenomena (^); the winds, the ocean witn its tides
and currents; the discoveries of geology (3(>) ; the nature
of animals. (■") and plants (^4), &e.

Political Sconamy, — A pupil who has entered his
fourteenth year, wiUi his mind stored with the know-
ledge and strengthened by the exercise of the edu-
cation we have described, should be introduced to the
eleinentary principles of political economy. Society
suffers in its vital interests from the prevalence of
iterance and pnyudice in this great field of specula-
tion and action.

lagk, — The elements of logic appear to us to form
the i4>propriate conclusion to our practical elementary
course from six to fourteen. All that precedes it is
knowledge, and, as such, chiefly addressed to the Aiiow-
ing faculties of the mind. But man has also r^fieating
faculties; and it constitutes the chief end and object of
our knowledge to furnish these with materials fpt their
e^^erciae, which is colled reasoning. This, the highest
operation of mind, is regulated by laws in the nature
of things, which right reason both discovers and obeys.
These laws syBtoroatiscd constitute the science, practi-
cally the art, of logic. The pupil, while he masters its
principles, should be well exercised in their applica-
tion. (See No. 73 of this Series.)

Iteligum. — The first principles of religion are under-
stood to have been impartecl under the circumstances
indicated in our section on moral education. In a
school course, due provision must be made to carry out
this all-important department. Looking onlv to what
the principles of education ask from us on this point,
wo would direct, first, the continuation of the method
formerly described; next, daily Scripture reading; next,
a subjection of the individual pupils to the agency of
the ordinary means of diffusing religious knowledge
and maintaining religious impreuions.

• Ill

'IVUm'l miT \ SNlCAttOK. '■11 S^'HJl^*

'^n^iM^— Tliougk it if » gmt error to ngaml
the ucquiitment of cue or two au«ient luiguagea, wad
a ■ohoel itndy of » few of tha book* written in thtm,
M oonititutin^ a liberal eduoation, onqueitlonably a
liberal edaoation oocht to inoluda that aoquirenMnt
and that rtudy.' The commenewaent of a claMical
ooune, aa it ia called, may be made during the la«tar
part of the elementuy period ; but it should niaL.gr
be poatponed till after fourteen, when the oompaiatite
ripanaaa of the mind enables a pupil to acquire mora of
thia kind of knowledge, and that more effectually, in
one year, than in three or four at an earlier stage.
The study of the olaisioal languages ia a special educa-
tion, required by those whose occupations are to be of
a philosophical or literary character. In an expressly
literary eduoation, they would always form a oonmieu-
oua element. And the refining effisct which the admir-
able productions of the Oreclan and Roman writer^
is calculated to have upon the minds of all must be
at onoe admitted. The abuse of these languages in
education has been solely in their being made the sum
and substance of all eduoation, and, though in a less
decree, in their being taught at a period of life when
it IS imp:>ssible to experienoo their softening and im-
proring influence. (Clawicai. Smim.) > ,.

iWI<i Mllii

itECHANISM FOft EDUCATION.

.'1 ,ll< !)'JJI

The mechanism for' education m%y be said'tO'biW
two kinds — that which is fVirniahed in the &mily circle,
and that which is famished by public establishments.

The niother is an educator ef nature's appointment,
and the fiiat. To her foils the duty of securing the
sound organisation of the infant, as far as it can be
done by obedience to nature's rules before and after hia
birth. She has the duty of drawing his senses and in-
tellectual faonlties into that gentle exercise which gives
them Tiraoity without being attended by danger, and
that ef establishing the baais of regular and correct
moral habits. For all these purposes she is in a posi-
tion of great influence; for her infant, accustomed to
look chiefly and most immediately to her for protection,
kindness, and every comfort, is unavoidably disposed to
pay to her that reneration on which genuine influence
depends. She is, as has been well said, the Dcrrr of the
child, and nothing but a sad misuse of her own feelings
can prerent her mm being nlt-powttrfbi oVer him for
the neulation of the whole economy of his being,' at
least during the first two or three years of his life.

So fhr aa moral education depends, as we have shown,
on monl atmosphere, and the influence of intnediate
example, the importance of home as a part of the me-
chanism of education must be acknowledged. ' Before'
the period of school attendance, home is all in all : there-
after, it still continues tobear agreat diarein the duty.
The formation of moral habits, and tha dcfvelopment of
religions feelings, will depend much oil what n done in
these respects in the family circle. Parents lAay even
serve aa aids to the business of school, to a degree of
which they have in general little conception. First,
they may do much in the way of enforcing iuid provid-
ing for that important requisite — regular attendance.
SMond, they may strengthen the hands of the teacher
by paying him a proper respect. Compared with these
objects, the mere superintendence of lessons given out
to be learned at home, is, though itself ipiportant, a
trifle. There is a tendency in parents to be over-easy
in the admission of excuses for attending school ; and
they often take away their children for a considerable
time, for teasona affecting their own conveniency and
pleaaure. It is also not uncommon for them to look
down qpon teachers, and speak of them, and even to
them, in no very respectful terms. All these are errors
of a flitAl character, seeing thftt they weaken the school
mechanism in some of ita most important requisites.

A child becomes a fit subject tot the education of
public establitdiments at from two to thrre years of
age or thereby. FYom this age till six, he ihoald^ if
poniblc, attend an Infant School. ' "'

-nimnu OMAwaaM's EBOicATiOifAi, Covnsc.

...nc'ff t.

JHrtdarUt,
1, InfiMtt Treatment Under Two Yewt of Age.
g. Itfi^at E > ^^ c» t^ o n from Two to Six Yean of Ago.

BngtUh Sw((aa.
8. FlntBooVoflteading. ^
4. ' deooAd 'Book of Rending.
a. Simple Xeasona in Reading.
A. RUdimettti of Knowledge.

7. Moral Clan-Book.

8. Introduotion to Compoeition.

9.' Introdnetlon to Oraminan' '"'■""'' ' * '
la Onunmar. u,1«.hh ;: ,^ ..i.;!.>i

IL Etynielagv.>i-''k'> -<'^i -"^J <' •
lit. Elocution, \"iit .vmIiiim ,'

13. Histoqr of the Bngllib liuigiiage and Literature.

ArilhmtliaUandUathtmatical.

14. Introdt^otlOn to Arithmetic.

15. Artthmctlc.

Kejr to Arithmetic.
19. Book-Koeping by Single and Double Entry,
ir. Algebra. '"■ ••■"■ .■j"';'|- iiu>-'Jr. u.j.- .-..■.;

Key to Algebra. (,'' > .T 'il'-' (.lUvlj.Iwi lii" ,v;iiiii^i'
I& ElemenU of Plane' fee*m«tfy.'iHim\,v>\\ ,wl^\>i^u .ii\(\V

Kogr to Plane Geometry. ..ijui) nij v^t.^^ii^ Xf[iMi <i»
19. Solidaod Bpherioal Geometry, r.ati >'' i^>'-^i'j1tuii •' i v i
JOi Pnctical Mutheinatica. inn: iihi'A'j tf.i: <>'.!

Key to Practical MBtiwinatiOR.1 Joiilw ,i(j>:>i;lm ^i u,
%l. Mathematical Table*. ;n4ti aiuo^J (wul «•! ir>rfW

Wi-ii ■>ii ,^l,il..>.K

^»Lii;i;

J5. Introduction to the Sciences. , , _„

a. Laws of Matter and Motion: , rmirf.m. ».«

54. Mechanlts. ,J.o,|.i..B L..,!

55. Hydrostatics, HydrauUcB, and Pnemnatltti '^'i'" '''*''''l

M. optics. -.I-m: .A'ilo-

■■■ (■..•iiiims.i

I li.i u).'« ,iij! 1o • 9-ni8S'jin .'liji 10 K**I

riyjTjiH 111." .tihiujiili iiJlii fsLiiuv imiii

\ii .''iViA Jil")lilf ,r,i»;'jt> ,e(l.'il'!;^ .riintfH!

|.(tii:!i.iiij( ,«j^-'t'r('.'

27. Acoustics.
SH. Astronomy.' >^
S9. BleotricUyii'i
SO. Meteorology .
tl. Chemistry. ^
13. Animal PbjsiolQgy.

33. Zoology.

34. Vegetable Physiology.

35. Botany. \fn PreparaUoH.) , ,
3d. Geology.

, J7, Ancient Bistory.il. m fcr.yjjj- -sf

("^) ,«!(i'.illrif .«!i|'i)!t (ii1"')i-|''iJ

(.s: r. -:).., ,|.(..„
li'W J t — ,V«Vf.'H«MA">
■JUJlVl e'liquil y/lJ 'tfcl

38. History of Oreeoe.. „ ,„;j oJ Juinfiii 9(111) hn\tut *)il> IS

39. History of Rome.' , . . ! Iwii.ioib uii.! 'to
30. mstor/ of the British Empire , [ .,{ „|j,| l„„,viji

,il,iEfW^flr,»ff4In8^uctive Biography.. ,„, ,„j;js,„i,iio-.

■)!il b>i,i ..l.Ujsjfi Writing and BrmBiiigi -i-WIijik tir. •ylr
41. Writing-^ Plain, Current-hand, and. OhiaincBtall;'!te
. FUtaen prepaid CopyRaDli*(pc«(s<sc>. 1 .uil>

48. AnotlierSet, lilT«nBOokS(/(WJ»eaj)#*»«^'^ i" iwu nuui
44. Firat Dock of Drawing. .esijjnu(|'ji^

4& Second iiool^ qf OrawM>g. , \ > u!j>i V\ \na,Ma h

■"'■'•''■■'■•■ o«isw9))^. "'''^ '■''^""'''.^'"'•''''■^'^

4C. Geographical r^imcr. vuii.-,n •mIj

47. toxt-Book of Geography tbr England. ..44.. -ijli

48. School-Room Maps of England, Ireland, Scotland',' Boi'OpO,

Asia, Palestine, North America, Sotath Ameriba, and
Africa; Nino Maps. ...,.-. ■_

49. School-Room Map of thoHemlsphero&f «j'1'Jst"«> ^ '*

50. Primer Atlas. . . 1 i..„l„,ii..i

51. Genend Geographical Text-Book, (fa IViiparoWon.)
OS. School' Atlaaof Modi, r, and Andentecognq^'

.,.rji--. 1,, j;fi,ii: , aoHiaUStriet. . ,,,.:„. ,\,;y\ \„v„,V.
.>'• i ■•4H'ttt iimebocrioHa aAd trorna in brolisu.
'ii^'.'ln^iodnc(ion to latin Grammar. (jrojWjf i««a<»^>| ,

Si. Latin Grammar. . ,ji, , 1 ■

SS. CJuUlCaesarisCbnimentariidoBelloGalUeiot 'r' '

46. Q.cu^iviKnftw,d4tie»tlBAl«andriMagnt'"J ' '' V;

S7. <y.84m»«ttl'Ori«pl'0«*UlnaetJi»gur«ia4 '•'"■• '' '

rt. P.VU*flllIlarorileCaitmUia.

69. M. TulUl CleeronlB Omtkmes Saleetao Xni.

•' UVy-Hd|iici»-OvW,*o.' (ftil'rqMrWtoii).

573

OBAllBIBi'i JSWOMHimOW KB TBE TEOVLM.

The InfoMi iSbAool, •Itboack ft modm lattntion, ii »
part of educational meohaninu which is now generalljr
appiored of throoffhout Buiope, beinc in rogue not
onlT in Britain, France, Holland, and OermanT, but
eren in Italj. It ii, when rlghtlr conitittttea, only
a nnnei7 upon a large ioale— • place where infanti
may be reared in companr initead of being kept in
■olunde — where they may be reared in puie and well-
regulated oircumitanoes, initead of being expowd to
the contaminations of a public street. It is peculiarly
essential for the children of the poorer classes, who
are otherwise so liable to become a mere infantine
canaUk ; but it might be well for children of erety
grade to be brought up in Infant Schools, as society or
assembling together is essential to the working out of
many of the problems of education.

An Inflmt School should generally be calculated for
about 100, or not more than 140 pupils, of both sexes.
Two teachers, male and female (if possible, a man and
his wife), are required — the one to superintend the boys,
and the other the sirls. The school should be well
ventilated, and fitted up with a long gallery containing
six or seven tiers of seais, and divided into two depart-
ments for the various sexes, the younger children being
disposed in the lowest forms. The walls should be
furnished with drawings of natural and other obiects;
and a black board and arithmetic ball-fisme should
likewise be provided. A piece of play-ground is so
essential, that no establishment without one is entitled
to be considered as an Infant School. It should have
flower-borders, which the children are trained to re-
spect, and places of convenience, where cleanly and
delicate habits are inculcated. A circular swing is

required for the amusement and to promote the phy-
sical health of the children; and it will be well to nave
a auantitv of wooden prisms, of the form of bricks,
witn whitn they may engage in the building of houses,
towers, and other structures, according to fancr.

The intellectual education of an Infant School is
limited to the leamingof little hymns and knowledge
rhymes, the study of simple geometrical fbnns, and of
the merest elements of arithmetic, exercises upon nar-
rative passages of Scripture, the properties of objects,
the characters of animals, the names of countries and
cities, bo. In some, reading and grammar have been
introduced, to satisfy prejudiced parents; but these are
departures from the right character of the institution.
Most of the leesons are metrical, and sang to simple
airs. The moisl department, confessedly the chief,
consists in the learning of sood precepts, Scrintoral and
otherwise, the fostering of kindly and gentle disposi-
tions, and the restraint of angry and malevolent feel-
ings, the formation of conscientious, truthful, polite,
and delicate habits. It is remarkable how far a good
Infant-School teacher can aooomelish these objects, and
how quickly any new pupil is brought into harmony
with the general spirit of the place.

An Infant-School teacher requires a union of qua-
lifications which is not often attainable. He should
possess a sentle and affectionate character, witn un-
limited patience, yet haw that intellectual activity and
vivacity which are neoissaty for sustaining; attention in
young children. He must both be a well-mformed mnn
and capable of making what he knows readily intelligible
to those who know nothing : he must both be firm and
discreet in management, and possessed of manners of
almost infantine playfulness. A knowledge of music,
and a good voice, are amongst the qualifimtions which
he reqt' ires.

The elementary schools following upon the infant
seminaries (where these exist, or, othenriie, being the
first schools) are different in diJSerent countries, not
only in the materials and modes of iaatruetion, but in
the extent to which they earry on pupils. In Britain,
they are generally in a state considerably infiirior to
what is found in Holland and Prussia. In a rightly-
constituted system, there would be two seminaries
between the Infant School and the nniversity— the first,
or primary s(^hool, being devoted to thoM braodiei of

iastnietka in which aU shonld partkipaict and the
second, er seeondaiy school, affwling oontinued and
raoie advanced instroetion to Ooee destined foi pn.
fessions and for the more Important plaoee in sooiety,
and, as such, being preparatory to the nniversity. Tie
parish school and nanmar school of a small Mottiah
boigh may beoonsidered as an amagement ap^Meii.
ing to what is reoulred in this rsspeot.

The primary school is applicable to the ages between
six and ten or eleven. In a country under a national
system of education, one would be reoulred for every
group of population above a thousand in number, as
the attendance would then probably be from a huddnd
to a hundred and fifty. Reading, grammar, arithmetic,
the elements of geomphy, histoir, and sdenoe, and
moral training, would form the chief iiratures of «ho
business of a primary school. And to this extent all
should be eduoated. It follows that infant and primaiy
sohoola ought to be special subieets of state provision
and oare. Society is expressly interested in seeing all
children trained and instructed thus fkr, that they
may become a moral and intelliffent population^ So
strongly is this regarded in Pruss&k, that education, up
to the point in question, is enforced by law. Cwtainly
it is at least well to encourage paronts, by all means
consistent with the spirit of a free country, to have
their children educated to this extent. While the state,
then, regulates the education of infknt and primaiy
schools, the state should also furnish it gratuitously,
or all but gratuitously, thus nmovini; all difficulty
which may be felt by indigent individuals, the veiy
class whose children aro apt to become most dangerous
if left uneducated. It has often been objeoted to the
idea of gratuitous education, that what is obtained for
nothing is not valued; but the education furnished bjl
the state (or, as an alternative, by local assessment)
would not be really gratuitous. Every parent would
know that he contributed to the fund ny which the
school was supported, and that this was much the same
thing as paying fees.

In order to insuro a supply of waU-qoalified teachers,
as well as for the sake of uniformity of methods, the
infant and primanr schools would each require district
normal schools. Teaching is an art. It is one of con-
siderable nioety, requiring both natural and acquired
gifts of no ordinary kind. Without a due appnntice-
ship to it, no man can be expected to satisnr the de-
mands of the modem educationist. Then is a large
amount of detail, both in the methods of procedon and
in the material of instruction, which a cuididate for
this employment must have thoroughly mastered [be-
fore he can duly teach. Then is also an aptness and
facility for the duty which nothing but practice can
give. For all of these reasons, schools for the training
of teachers, or normal schools [so called f^m norma
(Latin), a rule], aro indispensable. We have not room
hero to enter folly into the details of a welliconstituted
normal sehool of any kind, but may pause for a moment
to indicate the important principle, that it is not suffi-
cient for a young man to sit by, observing the proce-
duro of a well-conducted school; he must enter per-
sonally into the business, and be accustomed to act as
a teacher himself, in order to atti^ the quaMcations
necessary to successful tuition.

We have considered the infknt and primary schools
as oomprohending the education required by all the
children of a state, and as thereforo cidling for state
support and regulation. For this reason we have in-
dicated a conclusion to the primary -school period some-
what later than what is practically the case in the schools
answering mero or less to this description. Generally,
the primary school period mar be said to end j^ nine
years of age, at iriiicii time a boy, for example,1s con-
sidered as fitted to commence a classical course in a
higher sehool. While the material of intellectual edu-
cation nmains csnerally as it is, this arrangement will
be appropriate; but if we consider some branches of
genetal knowledge as neoessaiy for ail, we must post-
p<me the condution of the primaiy period to ten or

EDUOATIOV.

derm. AtthatagcihaohUdrenof thehumblnolMtM
would ba flktsd to oommence the Mtire life to whioh
they f uiuklly deitined, while othen would be equidiy
nftdr to go fonrvd into adTMieed ichoolB.

Tm Moondanr mhnnl aniweilng to the gnunowr
aeheoli and noMemiet of Britnin, the collegee wad jmm-
<ioM of Franeo, the ormnn^ of BwitaerlMid end the
Oermen itetee— it the fint ichool epprapriate chiefly to
the middle end upper olaeeee. Aa ito benefita are not
uniToml, it ihouid be lupported lolely by thoie who
take adyantaite of ita inatruetioni, altkongh the atate
may extend to it protection and raffulatkm. The higher
intelligence required of the middle and upper daaiee.
Mid the ipedal education required for the profeiaioni
which many of theae olaaaea are called to follow, con-
ititute the neoeaaity for aecondory lohooli. They are
introductory to a unirenity ceune for thoae who are
to follow law, medicine, divinity, or any of thoae other
oooupationa which are now riaua into the aame rank
with the 'profeeaiona;' thoae otherwiee deetined here
obtain that comparativelT liberal education which ia
required in the middle walka of life. The ooune of in-
struction proper to a aeoondary aehod correaponda with
what haa been pointed out in the preeeding Motion aa
the adranced department of intellectual education. It
may here be proper to remark that, when we meilk of
certain claaaea of ihe community attending thia ad>
vanced order of schoola, we do not mean that theie are
to be conducted on exduuTO principlei . Let their feee
be aa moderate aa poaaible, and let all who can aflbrd
attend. In auch clroumatancei, it would often happen
tliat diildren of the humbler clawei, who thowed an
aptitude for education, would obtain it, and be thereby
enabled to make an adranoe in life suitable to the
facultiea with which nature haa endowed them.

Religioua instruction is preaumed, aa formerly indi-
cated, to be imparted, throughout tiie whole period of
elementary education, in schools. Here a difficulty as
to arran^ment unfortunately arisea from the Tanous
views which are taken on doctrinal points. The teach-
ing at doctrine according to the views of any one deno-
mmation, necessarily precludes, from the school where
it is done, the children of those who dissent from the
views in question. ' On the other hand, if doctrine be
exduded, those who are most eager for the inculcation
of particular doctrinea or for the maintenance of parti-
cular religious institutions, are oflTended. To obviate
the difficulty aa far as possible, a particular arrangs-
ment has been made in Holland, in the Irish national
schools, and some others; Scripture reading is there
confined to such parts as include no controverted doc-
trines, and to a general reference to the Bible on pre-
cqttive points, and all dse is taught to the pupils^ at
extra hours, by theU. particular pastors. It is thus
thought possible to inculcate the doctrines of religion
as efficiently aa by any other plan, while the school is
allowed to be a common good to all classes of the com-
munity, and a means of bringing up the children of
religious parties in harmony together.

INDinmiAL KDUCAIIOR.

The mingling of industrial arts with education is an
idea of modem times. One of the first examples of it,
by which general attention was attracted, originated at
Hofwyl in Switzerland, in 1806, under the care of a
man of fortune, M.de Fellenber^. Here the object waa
to teach farming on improved principles, while general
education was conducted on an almost incidental plan,
at intervals, by the superior of the establishment.
Schools of this kind have since been planted in other
parts of the continent, and in the United Kingdom.
Latterly, industrial education has been extended from
agrieultdre to ordinary handicrafts, and in most in-
stances with gratifying success.

As a specimen of a purely ' agricultural school,' we
select that of Templemoyle near Londondeny, which
appears to be conducted in an efficient manner. Estal)-
lutied in 1827 by the North- West of Ireland Agricul-
tural Sodety, for the purpose of giving young men ' a

plain English education and a knowledge of the prin- '
ciples and practice of agriculture,' it contained at the
period of our last edition [1843] dxty-slx pnpUs, fot
each of whom a small payment was made. The snpe*
riors were a teaching fanner and a schoolmaster, b»>
neath whom was a matron to superintend the dotnestio
establishment : —

* At half-past five the pupils rise, arrange their rooms,
say their prayers, and, m two dividons, which alter*
n^ on diSerent days, are engaged until dght in study
or in work; half the pupils are with the farmer, and
half under the schoolmaster, except on extraordinaij
ocoadons, when the servicee of all are required for the
farm, or the season rdeaaee them from tneir a^{ricul*
tural duties. At eight thev breakfast, and are ftt»
until nine; work and attend school in alternate divU
dons, firom nine until one. Dine at one, and have re-
creation until two. From two to six, are at work and
in school alternately. From dx to seven, sup and have
recreation. From seven to nine, prepare the lessons
for the next day, have prayers, and retire at nine. On
Sundays they attend their respective places of worship,
and occupy a part of the remainder of the day in reu-
gious reading.

The intellectual instruction consists in spelling, read-
ing, ^ammar, geography, arithmetic, writing, and book-
keepm^, with some elementary and practical geometry
and tng(mometry.v The farmer gives lectures also m
the eveninc upon the theory of agriculture. It is in-
tended to Introduce [now carried into effect] lect'Urea
on botany and agricultural chemistry.

The practice includes all the operations of fitnning,
under the different approved systems; the rearing of
cattle, the management of a dairy, and, in general, tha
incidental ae well as the direct occupations of the
farmer or agricultural labourer. The bead farmer, or
agricultural master, is expected to expldn the prin-
dples of the work in which the pupiu are engaged,
and to take opportunities for incidental instruction.
The operations which he is specially called upon, in
the regulations of the committee, to teach, are — ^ploush-
ing, and the setting of the plough, the use of farmug
indruments in general, the qualities of stock, and modes
of recognising them, the treatment and management
of dairy and farming stock, the making and repairing
offences, the rotatimi of crops, and thoN best adapted
to different varieties of soils, the modes of draining, re-
claiming, and improving lands, and the most recent in-
ventions and improvements in agricultural implements.
The farmer takes those who are sufficiently advanced
in knowledge and age to be benefited thereby, to the
fairs or maueta, to assist in the sale of the products of
the farm and dock.

The pupils are divided, for work, into sections, eadt
of which has its monitor or chief, and condsts of eisht
or ic«n boys. The head monitor, or superintendent, naa
tile control of them in the absence of the master, and
anau^ with him the distribution of their time, takes
an account of the dock and of the products of the
labour, and advises with the master in regard to the
f«m in such a wi^ as to prepare himself for actual
superintendence. This place is occupied by the elder
pupils in rotation.

The farm condsts of one hundred and thirty-three
acres, of which one hundred and twenty-five are arable
land. It is worked so as to present examples of the
mod approved rotation of crops, the fields emiuraced in
the same series of shifts lying ac^acent to one another.
The whole is drained by underground drains, according
to the improved Scottish system, and is well enclosed
with different fences as spedmens, and trials of the
various kinds.'*

Industrial village schools are well exemplified in that
of Ealins, about five miles from London, established by
a benevMeut lady. The prindples hdd in view in estab-
lishing this seminary wero, that the children should
early acquire habits of patient industry ; that they should

fBaohe'snepattoBEdwiaUanlnBarepe. Phfladelplila. 1839.

OHAMWmtfPS mFOBXATION FOB THE FKOPLK.

be Mqnidnted with th« T*Iua of Uboyr, uid know the
connoction between it and property ; th»t they should
hare intelligence, ikill, and mi Mquaintuioe with the
objeete bjr which they are rarrounded ; that the higher
■entimenta, the looial and moral part of their being,
should reoeire a full development. The industrial oc-
cupation is gardening, pursued in a piece of ground
ooaneeted with the Mhool. * It is divided,' says Mr
Baehe in the Report already quoted, ' one portion being
nservcd for the use of the school, another being sub-
divided into small gardens for the boys. The pupils
work in the first under monitors, and receive a com-
pensation in proportion to the useful results of their
labour. The second they hire at fixed rates, and dis-
pose of "<e produce as they please, always receiving,
however, the market price for it from the school, if they
ehooee to dispose of it there. Tho youn)];er children
are not allowed to undertake gardens on their own ao-
oount, but work for others, or for the ebtablishment.
Partnerships are sometimes formed among them for
the more advantageous cultivation of larger pieces of
ground. An account current with each pupil is kept,
m which he is charged with the rent of his ground, and
the seeds and plants which he has purchased from the
stock, and credited with the produce which he has sold
to the school.'

In-door occupations are less desirable in alternation
with school instruction than these healthy out-of-door
labours, but must have the effect of training to steady
and persevering habits, not to speak of the actual skill
conferred by them. As an example of a school in which
such occupations are pursued, we select that of the
Royal Military Asylum at Chelsea, where 600 children
of non-commissioned officers are reared. Those above
eleven are hero taught handicrafts, about four hours
a day of three days of the week being thus devoted.
* Rather less than a hundred boys,' we quote the * Re-
port of the National School Society,' * work as tailors ;
fifty each day alternately : about the same number are
employed in a similar manner as shoemakers, cap-
makers, and in covering and repairing their old school-
books ; besides which, there are two seta or companies
of knitters and of shirt-makers, and others who are
engi^ed as porters, gardeners, in kitchen-work, &c.
Everything is done by those who work at the trades
except the cutting-out. This branch, requiring more
experience, is managed by the old regimental shoe-
muers, tailon, be. who, with aged sergeants and cor-
porals, and their wives, manage the concerns of the
institution. The system of monitors and teachers to
overlook the other boys at work is generally adopted ;
while, in addition to the various branches of industry
mentioned, the school furnishes a company of drum-
mers and fifers, and an excellent band of nmsic ; the
players necessarily devoting a considerable part of
their time to the practice of their instruments.'
Though there are some defects, the asylum is allowed
to be * an evidence that a greater degree of progress
may be made in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and
in other branches of learning, than is attained in the
great majority of schools, and yet that the boys may
be taught music, gymnastic exercises, and various use-
ful trades; thus improving their health, increasing their
means of enjoyment, and promoting their future inte-
rests, much more effectually than by the prevailing
methods.'*

Industrial education is practised with marked suc-
cess in various institutions for the reform of young
criminals, as in Parkhurst Penitentiary, Isle of
Wight, and the Warwick County Asylum ; in several
for the refuge of destitute persons, as in that at
Hoxton, and the Ouemsey Hospital; in various schools
for orphan and pauper children under the New Poor-
Law Act, of which that at Norwood is a most inte-
resting example; and in those charitable institutions
commonly known as Ragged Schools (see p. 183, No.

* Some Account of the Itoyal Military Asylum, Chclaca. Scctmd
PuMioation of tho (k atral Bocioty of ESducation. F. IM.
5|jS

63), which have been rwenily opened in many of
our populous eitiflt. It is not as an imjiretwrnml,
which may or may not be adopted, that industrial
education is here to be advocated : it is otlled for as
something abtoluUly nteeuary, to counteract an inhe-
rent tendency of all asylums for tho maintenance and
education of children to becorao monastic institutions.
The children are kept apart from external nature,
from human society, and from many or most of the
common operations of life. They come out as helpless
nearly as they went in. Industrial education presents
itself as almost tho only conceivable means or .fitting
such children for entering the world in anything like
the same condition as other children. It is not essen-
tial thst any one child be made a proficient in any one
art; the great end is to make them generally acquainted
with the arts of life, and to prepare them by habits of
industry for earning their own bread when they grow
up. From the attention which the Poor-Law Commis.
sioners are giving to the subject, we have no doubt
that in a short time we shall see the whole of the forty,
five thousand orphan and pauper children of England
educated in this wholesome manner. In the late re-
ports of the commissioners there are some excellent
hints thrown out. Different arrangements are recom-
mended for different districts. It is suggested, that in
an agricultural district there ought to be a large garden
which the children should be taught to cultivate, in
ordf^r to become acquainted with those duties which
they will probably be called to perform when they are
sent out into the world. They should also be taught
to erect sheds or outhouses, to make wheelbarrows and
other simple utensils, and to fashion desks and forms
for the school. Thus, as form-servants, they will be
able to execute a number of little jobs in carpenti^
which would otherwise require the interference of the
proper tradesman. To enable them to contribute to
their own personal comfort and that of their house-
hold, without an expenditure of their earnings, they
should be taught to make and mend their own clothes
and sho^s, to plait straw-hats, to make straw mattresses,
and whitewash walls. In a manufacturing district
the employments should bear a similar relation to the
trades of the neighbourhood ; and in or near a seaport,
the arts connected with maritime life should be taught.
Such, in brief, are the views of the commissioners
respecting the boys : they recommend that the girls
should be trained to the household duties of cookiii",
cleaning, and washing clothes, sewing and knitting, by
having to perform those duties as far as requirwl in
the workhouse. It is worthy of remark, thi^ in the
Marylebone charity for girls, this plan has been for
many years acted upon with excellent results. There
the girls are accustomed to make their own beds, to
clean their own knives, forks, and shoes, and to be
scrupulously clean in their dress. ' Their chief em-
ployment' ('Journal of Education,' i. 287) ' is needle-
work ; but they are employed in rotation to scour the
school-rooms, the play-rooms, and the washing-rooms,
the tables, forms, and stairs, as well as to prepare and
remove the meals of the rest of the scholars, and to
wait upon the domestic superintendent and officers.'

The reporter of these circumstances adds, and wo
fully concur in his sentiments : — ' The value of chari-
ties of this description is too obvious to require parti-
cular comment. By establishing good nabits, they
doubtless accomplish more than can ever be effected by
mere piecept ; tuid they not only tend to make useful
servants, but provident, neat, and intelligent wives and
mothers. If it were possible to engraft some part of
such a system on tho national and other schools, these
advanti^es would become generally diffused, and the
consequence would be a great increase in the comfort
of the houses of tho poor, and an accompanying con-
tentment, productive of the best results on the charac-
ter, among young married men of the working-classes,
whom the extravagance or mismanagement of untidy
and ignorant partners often drives to alehouses, and
other resorts of idleness and dissipation.'

ENGLISH GRAMMAB»

Oranhar (from the Onek word grmmma, a lattw) in,
ill itf broMlMt MDW, th»t branch of kiiowledn wUdl
r«f«n to th« oomponrnt parti of language.

The purpoM of language is to ezprew our ideal.
Similar olaMM of ideai nweiMrily ariie in the mindi
of ernrv portion of the human family; for the mind ii
ererywhera the nrae, in kind if not in digNe, and the
eireumitanoM and dMiiM of mankind are evetrwhere
lew or more alike. To eipren thoM olaMM of ideal,
men, in aU oountriei and in all itagM of wciek/, uie
correiponding oIimm of wordi, although the wordi may
themielrei be difibrent. For example, men ererywhere
iee tangible objecti around them. To theie they apply
diitinct nama or appMatioiu, which form, it may be
laid, one clau of wordi — Noum. They lee thingi per-
form aeU ; ai, for instance, they lee cattle brotne and
kidi datue. Thui ariiei another clau of wordi— Verbs.
They lee whilt cattle and black cattle; henoe Adjic-
TivBS. Then and other kinds of wordi, or, to uie the
common phraie, oorte 1/ speech, are found equally in
the language of the North American Indian and in the
re6ned diicoune of the European philoeopher. To ex-
hibit the nature and power of wordi, taken lingly and
in combination, riewed ai a Tehide of thought or a
medium of communication, ii the fint and higheit
object of the science of grammar.

In the speech of every nation there are alio many
peculiarities, both in the formation of wwrdi to express
varieties of sense, and in the way in which words are
arraneed, these being partly the result of intellectual
pecuUaritiei of the people, and partly the effect of ac-
cident. Grammar alio takes cocniiance of ludi p«tcu-
liaritics. Hence there is not only uniTcrsal grammar,
which relatM to whatever is common to the structure
of all language, but likewise a grammar for each par-
ticular tongue; as, for instance, the Greek naromar,
the Latin grammar, the French and the Engluh gram-
man. Our present buiineas is with English grammar,
or to set forth, as well ai we can, within small compass,
the f truotiire and Uie usages of the English language.

There am four parti in English, ai in other grammars,
OrOographjf, £h/mohgy, S^ax, and Protody.

OaxaoaRAPHr, from the Greek wordx ortkot, right,
and gifUfMi a writing, ii that part of grammar which
teaohei the nature and powen of letten, and the pro-
per method of spelling words.

Prowdt, fh>m the Greek word piveodim, the accent
of a word, treats of the pronunciation of words, and of
the lawf of rhythm or versification.

On both these departments we mean to say nothing,
principally because, as we apprehend, they can only 1^
effectually taught by the livmg voice; besides, as far
as relates to Orthomphy, so few general rules have been
ascertained, thAt they aioford little Jielp to the young or
inexperienced student. Practice alone can give facuity
and corrertness in spelling. With regard to Prosody,
we may further remark, that it relates to a mere luxury
of language; because, to the effectual communication
of thought, metrical arrangement of language ii by no
meant neoenaiy, and in an elementary work on gram-
mar, it may, without impropriety, be omitted.

This leaves us £tymol<^ and Syntax, which unde-
niably constitute the chiefparti of grammar; and of
these we shall treat as fully as our limiti permit.

In Etvhologt wo shall be guided by thia principle,
which we hold to be established, that every word nas
of itself a distiiict office to perform ; and we shall en-
deavour to exhibit clearly the force and significance of
words taken singly.

In Syntax we shall not attempt to lay down ruUt,
as they arc called, for every mode of expression, but

No. a?.

rather to exhibit a few ef the leading principlM of our
languid, the complete undentanduig of whidi will
supersede the neoussity of minute obiervationi on our

Sairt, M it will enable the itudent to make them for
imielf. We cannot iqiprove of the exhauitive lyitem
of teaching Syntax— Aaming a rule fiir every peculi-
arity that the language containi; much better ii it to
conduct the itudent at once to the prineipltt, which
are, ai it were, the fountain-heads of mite. In the
one way, we should but exhibit to him everythivg bf
our torcUight; but, in the other, we kindk kit own,
and having pointed out the load in which he ii to
travel, leave him to himielf. When the itudent is
familiar with the principlei, it may be deiirable to
exerciie himielf on minute details, and a school gram-
mar (see list of school books in the preceding number
on Education) should provide exercises on the minutest
peculiarities of the language.

ETYMOLOGY.
EnMOLOOY, from the two Greek words, etMmm, the
root of a word, and bgoi, a discourse, is that part of
grammar which treats of the various classes into which
words are arranged, of the different modifications they
undergo to express difference of meaning, and of their
origin and history.

I. CLASSIFICATION.

Words are the lymboli of ideas, and they are clani-
fied and named, not from their form, but from the na-
ture of tha idea which they represent or for which they
stand. The class of any particular word is only to be
ascertained by observing the office which it perform!.
What it does, alone indicates what it m.

It would be quite impossible to say, previous to ac-
tual inspection, how many sorts of words, or, as they
are generally called, part* 0/ speech, exist in any lan-
guage; but upon examination, it is ascertained that
all words used in the Englidi language may be arranged
under eight heads or classei.

Theie eight parti of speech are — Noun, Adjective,
Pronoun, Verb, Adverb, Preposition, Conjunction, and
Inteijectiou.

A definition of each of these classes of words ought
to point out the characteristic or specific idea by which
it is distinguished firom all th« others ; and every indi-
vidual word, brought under nay of the eight heads,
must agree with the definitioL, i/ it is adequate — ^tfaat
is, neither too extensive nor too limited.

The Noun.

A Noun, from the Latin word nomen, a name, is the
name of any person, place, thing, qualitv, or principle;
or, more generally, it is the name of whatever can be
an object of contemplation or subject of discourse.

The characteristic of the noun is this: it gives of
itself a distinct idea or object of thought ; thus of the
words, to, pen, just, alas ! he, terrify, and ship, the only
ones that present a picture to the ' mind's eye ' are
pen and sMp. These, therefore, we call nouns; but the
others do not belong to this doss.

It should be carefully observed that every propor-
tion, or sentence Uiat asserts anything, must contun
at least a noun and a verb — the noun to expreii the
thing spoken about, and the verb to indicate iriiat is
affirmed concerning it.

Grammarians usually divide nouns into two great
classei— -ProTwr and Common.

Proper Nouni are such ai are applied to individual
penona or things only; such as, Victoria, Britain,
Edinlmrffh, Pyrenees, Jupitar.

577

OBAIODM OfOWMATUm KNI TBI PBOPLI.

Common Nouu m* ^n'""''*'* ^ whola oImim of
pmwM or o^Mta ; m. 9«mmi, Uland, eUv. Common
Nouns MO br Mm* diTidod Into tbrto nib-euMM, oallad
Abttrtet, Vmltctivt, »nd Verbal i bjr which amngo-
mont tho olaM of Comiuon Nount, in the limited accep-
tation of the term, inoludei only tlie name* of thingi
obriouf to lome of the fire leniei.

An ' betraot Noun ii the name of a quality thought
«f I . from all ooneideration of the lubitance in
w' ihe quality retidef. The term bean reference
tu ... act of the mind, called abstntctioH, by which we
flx our attention on one property of an object, leaving
the others out of view. Snow, chalk, and writing-paper
are white, and from this quality are oppressive to the
eyes. Abstracting the quality from the substance, we
■ay, ' Whiteness is oppressive to the eyes.' Whiltnu$
thus becomes an abstract noun.* An abstract noun
may also be a name indicating the want of a quality,
as iintoorMinsss. Comprehensively, abstract nouns are
the names of immattrial txistencei, aott, or italu.

Collective Nouns are those which, though singular in
form, may suggest the idea of plurality. They are such
as, army, cltrgy, crowd, clou.

The imperfect participle of a verb (which will be
treated of afterwards), when used as the name of an
action, is called a Verbal Noun. For example, in the
sentence, * The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the
ear filled with hearing,' the words ueiiig and hearing
Mt termed Verbal Nouns.

The Adjective.

An AiMBcnvK isaword that qualifiesanoun — that is,
marks it out from other things that bear the same name.

The characteristic of the adjective is, tl^at it limits
the application of the noun : thus the term uland is
applicable to every portion of land surrounded by
water ; but if the adjective fertile be afiixed to it, all
blands not distinguished by the property of fertility
are excluded from our consideration.

This part of speech seems to have received its name
firom an accidental circumstance, and not from any-
thing essential to its nature. In the Latin language
it was usual to place the word modifying the nouu after
it, thus tabula tonga, while we prefix it, and sav a long
tablti the Latin grammarians, therefore, called this
class of words a^jectivet, from ad, to, and jectui, thrown,
and we retain the term, although our modifying word
goes first. If the student has learned to recognise the
noun, he will feel no difficulty in knowing the at^ective,
because its office is to point out some peculiarity or
quality which distinguishes the noun.

* Nouns adjective,' says Adam Smith, ' are the words
which express quality considered as qualifying, or, as
the schoolmen sav, m concrete with some particular
subject. Thus the word greeit expresses a certain
quality considered as qualifying, or as in concrete with
tne particular subject to which it is applied. Words of
this kind, it is evident, may serve to distinguish par-
ticular objects from others comprehended under the
•ame general appellation. The words green tree, for
example, might serve to distinguish a particular tree
from others that were withered or blasted.'

Adjectives are generally divided into two great
classes — Attributive and Numeral, or those which de-
note quality and those which refer to number.

The words a or an (two different forms of the same
word) and the, are reckoned by some grammarians a
separate part of speech, and receive the common name
of Article — a or an being called the indefinite, and the,

* Though we thus distinguish one class of nouns— thoac,
osmcljr, which como froin adjectives or aro closely connected
with them— by the title oMracl, wo arc br from wl»hing it to
be inferred that common nount are not appnhcndod by the same
fccdlty. On the contrary, metaphysical propriety compels us to
admit that such is the case ; and if any of our readers feel an
Interest in the question, we request him, before condemning our
opinion, to peruse the third chapter of the third book of Lodto's
'Bssay Conoeming Human Understanding,' and also Adam
Anltb's ' Dissertation on the Formation of Languages.'

578

th« d«(finHt utirl* | l<iit as thsy in all respaots eoraa
under the deflaitton of the a^oetlve here given, it is
UBBSDWsa f y as wtll m improper to rank them as a
class by themMlves.

In signification, a or an is equivalent to the numeral
adjective one, and the to the demonstrative adjective
that I and the only difference between them is, that a,
an, and the, convey the idea less emphatically than ons
and fA«l. Whoever reads Dr Crombie's remarks on
the ' Article ' must be convinoed of the absurdity of
reckoning it a distinct part of sneech.

Various other words, generally arranged under the
head of Pronoun, seem more properly to oeloug t« the
a«^ective. For instance, the eignt words, mjf, My, kit,
her, its, our, gour, their, correspond exactly in offioe with
the definition of the a^ective ; but as they are derived
from, and answer to, the personal pranouna, thev may be
called pronominal adjeotivet with more proprfetv than
poeeeeeive pronount. It they ever stand alone, they do
not exactly supply the place of a noun, but merely have
it understood, and so, as will presently appear, do not
come under the definition of pronotM. In like manner,
the words ihie and that, with their plurals Ikeee and tAose,
by many called demontlrative pronoune ; as also the
four words each, every, either, and nstMer, named die-
tributive pronount — must in strict propriety be con-
sidered as adjectives, inasmuch as tney both precede
and designate nouns, but never supply their plaoe.

The Pronoun.

A Paonoun, as its composition indicates, is a word
that supplies the plaoe of a noun.

Pronouns may be divided into three classes — Per-
ianal, Relative, and Interrogative.

The Personal Pronouns are three in number — namely,
/, thou ; and he, the, or it,

I is used when the person speaking refers to himself ;
thou, when he refers to the person addressed ; and he,
the, or it, when he speaks of some other person or tflinf.

In Mr Mill's ' Analysis of the Human Mind,' a woi^
equally interesting to the grammarian and the philo-
sopher, we find the following account of the Personal
Pronouns, and wo confidently recommend it to the
attention of our readers: — ' In all speech there is a
tpeaker I there is some perion if >n to; and there is
some perton or thing ipohen qf'. These objects con-
stitute three classes, marks of wluch are perpetually
required. Any artifice, therefore, 4o abridge the use
of marks of such frequent recurrence, was highly to
be desired. One expedient offered itself obviously, as
likely to prove of the highest utility. Speakeri con-
stituted one class, with numerous names; pertons
tpoken to, a second class ; periont and thingi ipoken nf,
a third. A generieal name might be invented for each
class — a name which would include all of a class, and
which singly might be used as the substitute of many.
For this end were the personal pronouns invented, and
such is their character and offioe. " I " is the generieal
mark which includes all marks of the class ipecJoert ;
" thou " is a generieal mark which includM all marks
of the class pertont ipoken to ; " he," " she," " it," are
marks which include all marks of the class periont or
thingi ipoken o/,'

All pronouns refer to some noun, which, as it gene-
rally goes before, gets the name of emtecedent ; but as it
may come after, correlative would appear a better term.
In tha case of one class of pronouns, the reference is
so obvious and immediate, that they have been called
Relative, by way of distinction. These are, viho, which,
that, and ait. Who is used when the reference is to a
person; wAicA, when it is to a thing; that and at refer
either to persons or to things.

The Interrogative Pronouns, so called because they
are used to ask questions, are who, which, what, and
whether. When tehat is not used to ask a question, it
gets the name of Compound Relative Pronoun, as it in-
cludes in itself the ideas of both correlative and rela-
tive; thus, * Give me wheU is in your hand ' is equiva-
lent to * Give me the thing v/hich is in your hand,'

ENOUBH OBAHUAB.

ftr.

pevMotu

ipokeii of,

ad for each

clut, and

of many.

entcd, and

geuerical

tpeaher*;

all marks

it gene-

but ai it

iter term.

iference i«

■wen called

iho, which,

oe if to a

nd at refer

eauH they
what, and
lUMtion, it
u, M it in-
and Tela-
ii equiva-
And,'

TlM tnMMnbU word H{f, witk ito pluM] mIvm, ii
oalltd tk« lUeiprocftl Pronoun, and danotM that th«
obJMi and agmit of tkt verb ar« th« Mint.

S»V ia added to penonal pronouof for tht lamt par-
poM that MM ia affliod to pronominal adioctirea; that
la, to Mpreaa emphaaia or oppoaition. Thua, * I did it
with my own hand;' that ia, without the aaaiatanc* of
any othtr ptraon: ' He did it all Mnutifi' that la, with-
out any htlp firom another.

TbeVarb.

A Vbkb if a word that ngirmt aomething of a noun.

The charaoteriatio of the Torb ia affirmation ; it
may indeed, in common with the adjective, denote a
qtmlUp t but thia ia accidental, and not eaaential to ita
nature. The attrtimU and (he oawrMon art often con-
joined in one word, aa in the aentence, < The man
r^joieut' but they may be aeparated, and then an
adjective will denote the attribute and a Terb will indi-
cate the aaaertiont thua, 'The man it jojfful.' It ia
but fair to add, that thia doctrine of the verb ia not
univeraally roceiTed; although, after weighing the ad-
Terae argumenta of Home 'fooke and Mr MUl, we are
inclined to conaider it well-founded.

On attending carefully to the nature of the idea pre-
aented by Torba, we find that, while they all attert,
they differ in this reapect, that aome of them expreaa a
fort uf action which affecta or operatea upon aome per-
aon or thing different from the agent, and that othera
either denote no action at all, or elae a aort of action
which ia limited to the actor. The firat clasi ia called
Tranaitire, and the aecond IntranaitiTO Verba. If the
atudent conaider with attention the state of his own
mind when he repeata, with intelligence, the aentencea,
' Jamea itrUeu the table,' and ' Jamea walkt,' he will
haTO no difficulty in diaceming the diatinction that
eziata between a Tranaitive and an IntranaitiTe Verb.

We hare already atated, but the importance of the
remark will juatify ita repetition, that aa the noun
denotea the thing spoken about, so the verb indicates
what we affirm concerning it. Without affirmation
there could be no communication of sentiment; hence
the daaa of worda by which affirmation ia made hue
been dignified bv the appellation of vkrb, or the word.
* Verbs,' remarkt Adam Smith, ' muat neeeaaarily
haTe been ooeral with the rery first attempts towards
the formation of language. No affirmation can be ex-
preaaed without the aaaia tanoe of aome verb. We never
apeak but in order to eipresa our opinion that some-
tning either ia or ia not. But the word denoting thia
event, or thia matter of fact, which is the fubject of
our affirmation, muft alwayf be a rerb.*

The AdTerb.

An Adverb ia a word that qualifies a verb, adjec-
tive, or another adverb.

Aa a detcriptioA of a fact in grammar, thia ia unob-
jectionable; but it cannot be received aa a dtfinition,
ainoe the word defined ia made use of in the definition.
Its application may be thus explained. If we wish to
modify the noun or tuljeet of a sentence, we must use
an adjective; but if the predicate is to bis modified, or
any additional modification to be put on a word already
qualifying it, the word then used must be an adverb :
tnua, in the aentence, * The aun shinea,' we have a
timple fubject, ' aun,' and a simple predicate, * shines.'
If we wish to expreaa any auality of the subject, we must
use an adjective; and if tne predicate is to be modified,
we must bring in an adverb : thua, ' The bounteout fun
shinea,' and ' The aun ahines equally on all.'

Adverba may b« divided into four great claases : —

1. Adverbs otMamur; aa, well, ill, juttly, wiaely.

3. Adverbf of Tiwu; at, now, then, aoon, when.

3. Adverba of Place ; as, here, hence, there, whei«.

4. Adverbs of Quantify; aa, much, considerably.
The adverb, it may be observed, ia an abbreviated

mode of expreaaion, and the idea could in all cases be
conveyed by the use of two or more words. They have
a eloae aAnity to adjecthrea, not only iu English, but

In mort other tonguM. Raddiman juftly Mtyi, ' Tkal
adverba feem originally to have been oontrived to
expreaa oompendioualy in one word what nauat otbeiw
wiae have required two or more.* The truth of thifl
doctrine will appear by an inapection of the following
table of Adverba of PUcc ; —

ThlipUoo,
That place,
What plaoo,

/n.

To.

noni

HIthar

Tharo

Thlthw

Where

Whither

Tlianoa
Whenoab

The PrapMltion.

A Prkpobition ia a word that conneota two worda
together, in auoh a manner aa to Indicate the relation
which the thiuga or Ideaa aignified by them bear to
each other.

This part of speech, like the adjective, which it re-
aemblea in other rrspeots, haa received ita name firom
an accidental oircumatance. It senerally go«a imme-
diatelv bifore the object related to the other thing
named ; but the essence of the preposition. It ahould bo
oareAilly observed, is to signify relative petition.

We subjoin a list of the prepositions In most common
use, and we recommend the student to exercise him-
self in putting them all, one after the other, into sen-
tences. In this way he will learn to apprehend their
real significancy; and instead of calling a word a pre-
position, because it is to named in a compendium of
erammar, he will recosnise it from its function. Doubt-
less, by committing the list to memory, a practice aa
common as it is mischievous, he might soon be able to
parse; but his knowledge would be mere deception,
and be himself would m but ' as sounding bratt and
a tinkling cymbal.'

LIST or PRKPOSITIOirS.

Above Between) In Till \

About Botwlxt J Into UntUj

After Boyond Near To 1

Againit Bofora Nigh Unto )

Among 1 Buhind Of Toward \

Amongit ) Beneath Off Towards /

Amid ) Below Over Under \

Amidst i Beside On ) Underneath f

Around) By Upon J Up

Round / Down Since With

At For Through 1 Wlihia

From Throughout / Without

The following remarks on this part of speech by
Adam Smith, and his scarcely less illustrious disciple,
Mr Mill, will amply repay an attentive examination: —
' Prepositions are the words which express relation oon-
aidered in concrete with the correlative object. Thua,
the prepositions of, to, for, with, by, above, below, &a
denote some relation aubsisting between the objecti
expressed by the words between which the preposition!
are placed; and they denote that this relation is con*
aidered in concrete with the correlative object. Wordi
of thia kind serve to distinguish particular objects from
othera of the same species, when those particular objects
cannot be so properly marked out by any peculiar qua-
lities of their own. When we say " The green tree of^tho
meadow," for example, we distinguish a particular tree,
not only by the quality which belongs to it, but by the
relation which it stands in toanotherobject.' And again,
' Every preposition denotes some relation cocsidered
in concrete with the correlative object. The preposi-
tion above, for example, denotes the relation of supe-
riority — not in abstract, as it is expressed by the word
tuperiority, but in concrete with some oonelatlve ob-
ject. In this phrase, for example, " The tree above the
cave," the word above expresses a certain relation be-
tween the tree and the cave, and it expresses this rela-
tion in concrete with the correlative object, the cave.
A preposition always requires, in order to complete the
sense, some other word to come after it, aa may be
observed in this particular instance.'

To the same purpose Mill says — ' It ia easy to see in
what manner prepositions are employed to abridge the
process of discourse. Thev render us the same aerviee
whidi, we have teen, it rendered by adjeetivea, in afibrd-

579

moMiiifiov foi m pioFLit

IH ««• mmM rf •Mrtif mbm alMMi, «a« MtoT

poAloM ahM^rSMa Uttn mMiMta of ^tk* oIm
mUwI by giwMBMUM MUM tnbttaallft. Am »«m
wuii nfl mMmUt* tiuj eonnMt wllh olbm noani tub-

Tha C««)unottiM.

A CoMUNono!!, M its nMDt import!, Ii a word UNd
le Join wordi and propoiitioni logttbor.

Coi^uaationa art of two lortf, C o ^ H hU vt and DU-
hmHht. Tbo CopalatiTt not only Join the wordB, but
ladisata tbal tbe Aing$ aro to b« united i while it ii the
oflet of tbe Di^nnotive to unite tbe wordi, but keep
■eparate the tbinn, Tbe youngeet child cannot fail
toperoeire tbe dinrtnoa between tbeee two ientonoee:

* Will you bare an apple and an orange I' and ' Will
Ton bare an applo or an orange 1' In the fint oaee,
he li to get both lhiii((i -we therefore un a copulatire
conjunction: in th| leoond, he ii to bare one only — we
therefore uee a disiunetire conjunction.

In one reepect the prepoiition and conjunction agree
— they both coi)neot woras ; but each olaie doea iome-
thing not done by tbe other. The prepoiition indicatea
tba nature of tbe connection, which the ooiOunotion doei
not I and on the other band, the oonjunction can con-
aatt not merely tingle wordi, but clauiei or lentencw.
If I Myt'Oire me a knife Mtd the book,' yuu may pte-
■ent the ol^eoti named leparately or together — the knife
being undtr the book, in the book, or on it, and in each
eaw my request will hare been complied with; but if
I aay, ' Qire me a knife in the book,' the rtlaHve poii-
Ken of the objects is fixed, and there is only one way
of complying with my demand.

We hare asserted that the conjunction couples indi>
ridusl words as well as propositions ; but as in this
wo go against authorities so respectable as Ruddiman,
Hanis, and Mill, we must take some pains to make
good our position. Ruddiman says, * A conjunction is
an indeclinable word, that Joins sentences together, and
thereby shows their dependence upon one another;'
and in a note to his rule of syntax — * Conjunctions
couple like cases and moods' — he tells us, that ' the
reason of this construction is, because the words so
coupled depend all upon the same word, which is ua-
pressed to one of them, and understood to the other.'
To much the same purpose Mr Mill says— 'The con-
junctions are distinguisned fW>m tbe prepoeitioim 1/
oonneoting predications, while the prepositions ecnuect
only words. There are seeming exceptions, however, to
this description, the nature of which ought to be under-
stood. They are all of one kind; they all belong to those
cases of pndication in which either the subject or pre-
dicate consists of enumerated particulars, and in which
the oonjunction is employed to mark the enumeration.
Thus we MVT« " Four and four, and two, are ten."
Here the *u oct of the predication condsts of three
enumeratea ji^iculars, and the oonjunction leenu to
connect words and not predications.' We do not think
that Mr Mill's argument is conclusire. There is no
Mtmh^f about the matter. W« wish it, howerer, to
be distinctly understood that we do not charge his
doctrine with beinc altogether erroneous ; it is only
not complete. It is right, so far as it goes ; what we
maintain is, that it is too limited.

Ruddiman is correct in maintnining that in the
example, ' H^nout thy father and thy mother,' the
word ' bonour* is again understood before mother ; but
this will not do m es e 7 case. The sentence, ' Charles
and John rode to tow../ may certainly be resolred into
two clauses, 'Charles <v'' to town,' an^'. 'John rode
to town.' But can t!i<i iu-,^«loe, ' Jharles 'Jid John
carried fifty pounC.),' ht r;«oited ' : 1 tbe twc, iHiarles
carried fifty poumi*.,' ~'.d * J... oanied flily rounds I'
Obriouily not. Tiie <:oUfrm-.,ion and, in .uivt case,
connects the two .Toida 'If; vies' and 'Jo^n,' and
shows that conjoint.1^ they are the tul^jtet of the pre-
diealt * carried.' In like manner, in the sentence,

* The man of piety and rirtue secuiai the farour of

Ood.' U is not inpUad tba* * tba man of i>i«t) ' seevrts
tha MviMU of aod,aB4 that * the bumi of rirtue' saeuies
the saaa ; but that the man uniting the two aualitlea,
the NMirlw of which are united bjr the oei^nnction and,
sseares it. Mr Mill himself, laMsd, would appear net
to bare Iblt quite satit(\(id as to the eoaeluslreaees of
the mode of reasonini which wo bare been aolHiadrert-
ing on, for ha immedliitaly shiAs his ground, aad arguss
that, bscause in such • sentenee as, * Uia baf was ftill
of bares, and pheasants, and partridgeo,' wo may sub-
stitute the preposition wUh, and read, ' His bag wa<i
(Ull of hares, with pheasant*, with partridgeo,' the wor*!
and is properly to be considered a prepost^iou. to
this extraordinary specimen of reasoning it ir skMclent
to say, that by a similar process wo might conclude, to
use a homely illustration brought fbrward by Du^aid
Stewart on a like occasion, that because people can
* supply the want of forks by their fingers, that thers-
fore a finger and a fork are the same thing.' On the
whole, we eonsider that nothing can well be clearer
than that these great grammarians hare taken up a
wrong position ; but perhape we bare said as much
already as tbe importance of the subject warrants*

Tbe latsijMtlon.

An limRjacrioN is a word used to sxprew any sud-
den emotion or excitement of miud.

Pure iuterjeotioas are mere instinctire emissions of
tbe roice, few in number, and unimportant in cbai ster;
and, as to other parts of speech used inltrjtotiveiif, *h
expression is, we apprehend, elliptical ; but ihis cir-
cumstance cannot properly change the natuii' < nd cha-
racter of a word. Home Tooke considers that * inter-
jections bare no more claim to be called rurts of s}ieech
than the neighing of a horse or the lowii.: of a cow ',\
but as there are words in the language which express
mental emotion, and nothing else, we must hare a name
for them, and it would be difficult to find a better thnn
the one in unirf rital use.

PARSINO.

The student should now be able to analyse, or parn,
as it is generally called by English grammarians, any
soiii'-noe submitted to him. Various artificial rules
K . V (I been derised U> enable one to know what part of
•'^)eeoh any word belongs to; but these we mean not to
mention, being fully persuaded that such Ac^m are al-
tofjutlier * from the purpose' of grammar, inasmuch as
they render thought first unnecessary, and then Impoi-
siblo. No person can parse a sentence which be aoet
not understand, and when he does so understand it, he
can hare no difficulty in referring each indiridual word
to the class to which it belongs. All be has to do 11 to
compare the idea suggssted in his mind by the word to
be parsed with the definitions of the rarious classes
with which he must be familiar; and by this mental
effort it will soon be ascertained to what class the word
belongs. The idea suggested br any word, and the
characteristic idea of a class, bemg brought before the
mind at the same time, th'^ identity nr difference
must be at once apparent. >.. wi 10 dual in general
r 1 zoning more, we shall prer-nt ■ I, • -im ''/Ws (tf a sL" -'
seutence by way of examp' :

* A man that U yoniiR in yt". i j old u. hours, if ho has

iMt no time ; but Uiat liappeneth nnij.'—Baem't Etsagt.

Atam a4Jectivo, because it limits tlie aignifleation of the r.uun
man.

Man is a noun , beeanie it is the name of a clan of beings.

That is a nlatire pronoun ; its correlative is man.

/f ii a verb, because it aiaerta nmetblng (existence).

Young is an adjective, qualiiying tin noun Man understood.
Evoiy a4]ective must have a noun understood if not expressed.

/n is a preposition, inasmuch aa it points out the rtMum that
' years' iuu to ' young man.'*

* It must Im3 oonfcaaed tlutt It ia not in all oaaes ea^ for the
mind to apprrhoud the nature of the relation pointed out by a
preposition. The student will do well to tunillariae hia mind
with pkfiieal relaUont in the first ^Uoe, and moral will after-

mOUBH ORAMMAB.

. bLp.-

fmn k • ■••■. Ma J Um . ^ of • portloi «l tin*.

JAV to • ««rkt tlwrtlH Mmathlaa (powar) of Um noua imn.

Jk to • v«rk, MMttina or taMitlBf riManiw.

OM It M a^JMUT*, qtuUlfyina th* noun Man umtantood.

/m li • fnpnHUn, m •bow.

JI«iir«li»iMiiii,(»liig Uw nMiu> ' ' I ilivUloo of llm*.

1/ it % saBjunctlvn, ooniu'ctln« u.; ' tauw, ' A nuui tbM Is
younf In ywn may b« uU In hsuni, i . 'ho Kiliowlng oUuw,
• ha ka* loM BO tliM.' Ai t/ In ^wih eiuw pulrH • out tlw coiuM-
Nm «a wklob tha ■laa rt lun golnit >M(M>t it l« to Ik' no • > i it u
caUadbjmuuijrgrMniBarianiai'uaitHlt.i •' '<tnJimotluii.

Il« la • panonal pnaoun, ititndtnM mmu.t.i '/f the noun num.

Um la a *arb, aa n rtlng lunici lilnx ipaawMiUMj

!«<< la a varb Indlvatlnf an act. in thu natura uf i, : |»rt ii<
thavarb waihallhavumura toiuyui Aarda.

Jt» la an aAlaotlva, quallQrIac the noun Uku.

But la a ooajimotloa. II connt'cta tha two claii«ia, and at tha
aama tlma Indloatoa, or, to adopt the apt vxpmulon uf which
Mr mil Ikvquantly makaa uao, eoniulft that tho vlauto uomliix
•tlar II la In oppoaltlon to th«) ona (olng befum, and thar«Air<'
II It oallad a dmunotlva ooajuniitlun.

That It a damontUatWa aiUaotlve, qualifying tha noun IMug
uobjtatood.

HofpmtlA la a varb, aaaarting tomathlng of lu tulOaot, ' that
Uinf.'

. wtln k an adverb of tlma, inodlfylns tba verb kapptntlh.

Ai u additional exereii* in parting, we ihkll tran-
.ivribf ft lUnift from Campbell't bwutiAil od«, * Fare-
wall to Love,' containing, aooording to our view, ten of
•ftch of the thrte claim, nount, MUectirea, ftud rerbi;
fire of the two, pronouna and prepoaitiont; two con-
junction!, and three adrftrba. The itudent ii requeited
to make a cartAil ftoftlyaia for himaelf, and tee how far
our enumeration be oonaiatent with hii own : —

' Hall I walooma tida of lift, whan no tumultuout blUowt roll ;
How wondrout to inytalf appeara tbia haloyon calm of aoul I
The wearied bird blown o'er Uia deep would tooner quit itt

tbora.
Than I would oroaa the gulf again that time hat brought me

o'er."

To the lubjact of paning we ahall return before we
auit Etymology; but for the preient we with to direct
the ftttention of the reader to the Tftrioui modification!
put on word! to expreat m difference of meaning.

II. INFLKCTION.

Adt ohange made upon the termination of a word U
called it! oeeUent or u|/7«c«on ; thu!, the wordi, boj^i,
harder, itt, loved, and tootwi', are aaid to be inflected
form!, or limply inflection! of the word! bog, hard, it,
lovt, and toon. Of the eight parti of ipeeoh, five only —
the noun, adjective, pronoun, verb, and adverb — are
deolinftble — that ii, capable of being inflected; while
the remaining three — prepoiition, conjunction, and in-
terjection — are indeclinable — that ii, cannot be varied in
ittoh ft way ai to exprei! any modification in meaning.

Inflection of Nount.

The noun ii vftried in three wayi — by Numl>er, Gen-
der, ftnd Oaie.

NcMBKK ihowi whether one or more than one thing
ii meant by the noun.

There nn two Number!, the Sinffular and the Plural.
The lingular exprciiei one of a claiB ; aa river, hone.
The plural denote! more than one; ai riven, honei.
The plural ia generally formed froiu the lingular, by
adding the letter a; thui, table, tablet; book, bookt.

Nount ending in any of the five following terniina-
tiona, «, lA, eh (when pronounced loil), .r, and o (im-
pm that tt, preceded by a conionant), form their
plural hy a«iiug et to the lingular; thui, bruih, bruihef;
chttrck, churchM,' bux, boxM; hero, hero«t.

When ch i* pronoynced hard, and when o ii preceded
by ft vowel, the pluntl ia formed by adding s ; thug,
momarch, nxmaruht; t'ttlto, folios.

wawti MConK in«u ea*U>' r>«<igniH(lili< In the following tcn-
ta n oe it it at oncv perarlvetl «hat iidatkon the first in cxpreaaea,
bat much more difflcult to ^'i ih« lUatinot idea meant to be con-
vqrod by the i«wond :— ' Dt u m -nw tat <i» n tub, but ho wat gene-
nily <M good-humour. '

When ft noun ending In jr It to b« (brmad Into tho

filurftU • ia ftddod if tho jr It prooodod by ft vowel; but
r ft oouonftnt goot before tho y, tlMO the jr It obftBgod
Into mi; thut, In boy, theit It a vowel bofoio tho jr. wo
thorofoio add «, bovt; but in dutr there la a contosftat
before the y, the plural thartforo it dutiM.

Nottni ending in/or/St, generally form the pturftl by
chftnglng the/or/l into om; thui, loftf, loaMt; knilo,
kuiv«« t wife, wiiiM,

Hoof, boon; proof, proof*; roof, roof*; and a ftw
"then, are exception!.

Nuuni derivcil from drail or foreign tonguet for tho
iii^not part retain their orlgi ' plurali; thu»—

h ' (A< toHn MM *«!>*—

IINUI 1^^

Effluvliiii
Rartlut

Ijurva

■Ttex

FrtmmtOrHk

Ni'l,
Strut

111

i-unaAL.

i.tii

J ill V ■

"riicet
A i'«
«. icra
Ml. t
Mwila
Nebiilia
Btruln.

a.
m

aih
Phen'
CrUbi
llypothiv
C'rttarloa
Automaton
Iheila
Kllptit

Motamorphotlii
Analyilt

rLVBAL.

Phanoniana

CrlMa

II 'xithaam

I'Mtsrla

Automata

ThMf

BllpK .

Mataiv.orphol

Analyx ■<■

Tlie Hebrew wordt cherub and lerafA I their , '«•
rail cherubim and «' ipAim; and the Fr< i beau a 4
moHiieur fo i their irali 6«atMr and M«i*'««rt, whi' '
lait ii conti ted it u metert,

A few nui 4, in try comraon uie, form tl. oir plurai
quite anoinuioutly ; thui —

V S'LAR.

l>I.U«At.

A in

Man

1 It

Peat

To ih

Teeth

M. ^

Mice

Oeaae.

Obndbr. — Gendir ii t^'at accident of a noun which
point! out tbfl lex < the abience of lex. Every "xiit-
enoe ii eith< male >r female, or neither the one nor
the other. The Mar uline Gender include! all malet;
the Feminine, all fci Oei; and the Neuter, all thingt
deititute of lex, or i imali when the lex ii not re-
garded.

Adam Smith rema. a, that ' in many languagei
the qualitiei both of i^ x and of tho want of tez aro
expreiied bv different t' ininatloni in the noun! mb-
itantive which denote ibjecti lo qualified.' Aftor
ihowing that, in Latin, artain t«rmtfla«ofi* were ap-
propriated to expreiiing < rtain genden, he adds—' The
quiuity [of lex] appear! i nature aa a modification of
the lubitance; and ai i ii thui expreeied in lan-

Suage by a modification oi the noun lUMtantive which
enotei that lubitance, the quality and tho lubject are
in thii caie blended togetht -, if 1 may lay ao, in the
expreuion, in the lame ma:^ner at they appear to bo
in the object and in the idea. Hence the origin of tho
maiculine, feminine, and u'^uter genden, in all the
ancient language!.'

Admitting the truth at weil si the ingenuity of thii
ipeculation, ai far ai regarda ancient languagea, it doea
not appear to be the geniue of the Englian laneuago to
aaaign any particular terminution (at we find in the
Latin) to the different gend«ra; there are, however,
lome caiei in which gender may be recogniaed from
the mere termination of the noun, at will appear from
the following table : —

UAtCVUNK.

raMiNiNa,

Actor

Aotreti

Oovoraor

novemeta

Heir

Ueireta

Lion

Lloneaa

Matter

Mittreta.

In lome caaea difference of aex ia expreiaed by a
totally different word, and the gender cannot bo known
but by knowing the exact idea attached to the word.
Of thii lort are the following : —

rBMimiia.
Oirl
Mother

MAaccuni.
Boy
Father
Brother

BUter.

£81

OHAHBEBCTB nfOBUinoV fOB TBB PXOIU&.

SometimM the uma woid !• iqtpliad to m»lM And
famalM indiBonminaiMji and when we with to diitin*
gniih the mx, we prefix Mother word. Thui the word
tenant ligniflee either a male or a fenialr - but if we
deeire to notifj which, we can uie the coiDp<. and wordi
man-tervant or maid-iervant. Of the came kind are
ht-foat and Ae-jfoat, coek-tparrow and hm-tparrow,
and many othen.

Cass. — Case is that accident of a noun which points
out the relation which it bears to other parts of the
sentence.

Nouns hare three cases — NominatiTO, Possessive,
and Objectire.

The noun is said to be in the Nominative when it is
the subject of discourse, and represents the person or
thing of whom or which some assertion is made. Thus
in the sentence, ' John reads,' the proper noun John
is said to be in the Nuiiiinatire, because it names the
person of whom the asser' ' a reads is made.

Ti*" Possessive represei. i vast variety of relations,
but ) principal one is thi . of ownership or possession.
Thus, ' John's book is lost,' where John's is in the pos-
sessive, because it names the owner of the book*

The inflection of the Possessive Case (the only case
in English that has an inflection) corresponds exactly
in import to the preposition o/. In the line,
' An angel'i virtues and a wonum's lovo,'

we could easily dispense with the possessive, and intro-
duce the preposition, where the whole meaning would
be preserved ; thus,

The virtues qfaa angel and the love <ifa woman.

Adam Smith asserts that inflections would probably
be made before prepositions were invented ; observing
very justly, that it requires much less abstraction to
express the nature of the relation that subsists between
two objects by a change on the name denoting one oftlrm,
than to call into use a class of words expressing rela-
tion and nothing else. ' To express relation by a varia-
tion in the name of the correlative object, requiring
neither abstraction nor generalisation, nor comparison
of any kind, would at first be much more natural and
easy than to express it by those general words called
prepositions, of which the first invention must have
denmnded some degree of all these operations.'

This speculation is exceedingly ingenious; but whether
it be true in general is, to say the least, doubtful ; and
as far as the possessive of the English noun goes, it
must be allowed, we think, to be wide of the truth.

The noun is in the Objective Case — \st, when it names
the <:i>ject on which the action expressed by a transi-
tive verb operates; and 2d, when it names the thing
shown to be related to something else by a preposition.
In the sentence, ' John destroyed his book,' book is
expressing the object on which the verbal action ope-
rates; it is therefore said to be in the objective case.
Again, in the sentence, ' The cloud rises over the hill,'
hul is in the objective, because it is the word shoTra to
be related to cloud by the preposition over.

* Concerning the origin of the poiteuive caao English gram-
nuriana and critics am not agreed. Some maintain that it is
what we may call indigenous to the Irnguagc, corresponding,
they affirm, to an inflection of the Saxon noun; but wo rather
incline to the opinion of Addison, wlio thinks that thepoescseivo
termination is only a contraction for the pronoun hit. Hud the
poufiiivt case been native to our tongue, it is hardly conceivable
that the translators of the Kible would hove used such an expres-
sion OS ' Asa his heart was iwrfcct.' It has been ingeniously
0hject4xl to Addison's explanation tiuit wliilc it i \cry easy tu
see how ' the liinf; his crown ' might have tieen cuutractcd or
corrupted into 'the king's crown,' it is impossible to imagine
that 'the queen her crown,' or 'the children their bread,'
could have been suhjected to the same contraction. But surely
this objection is not unanswerable; for when the convenience of
the contraction was seen in the case of singular nouns masculine,
it might very Ciwily be transferred to nouns feminine and plural.
Wo would not be understood, however, to wpcok confidently on
the point; and in whatever way the possessive was introduced,
it is now impossible, Bupi>osing it were desirable, to displace it
582

The NominatiT* and OfajeetlTa of nonni an alik* in
form ; and it is only by oMerring how the noun stands
related to other woras, that we can say when it is in the
one and when in the other. To decide on the case of a
noun, we must * look before and after.' The Posses-
sive, however, may be recognised by its form, as well
as by its function, as it for the most part endi with '«
in the singular, and ' after the s in the plural.

A noun is thus declined : —

StirOULAR. PLiniAL.

IfonUnaUve. Brother Brother*

Pouettive. Brother's Brothers'

Objecti'ie. Brother Brothers.

When the plural does not end in «, the Possessive is
formed in the same way as the singular; thus —

BINOVLAIl. rLURAI..

NominaHve. Man Men

Po$Ktiive. Man's Men's

Objective. Man Men.

Inflection of Adjectives.
In many languages the Adjective is changed in ter-
mination, to correspond with the noun which it qua-
lifies ; but in the English tongue there is no such
modification ; and here, as in many other respects, our
language seems superior in metaphysical propriety to
most others, because the accident of gender cannot pro-
perly belong to a quality which is itself but an accident
and no self-existing thing. ' Gender,' it is observed by
.\dam Smith, ' cannot properly belong to a noun bdjec-
tive, the signification of which is always precisely the
same, to whatever species of substantives it is applied.
When we say " a great man," " a great woman," the
word great has precisely the same meaning in both
cases, and the difference of the sex in the subjects tw
which it may be applied makes no sort of difference in
its signification. Magnus, magna, magnum, in the same
manner, are words which express precisely the same
quality, and the change of the termination is accom-
panied with no sort of variation in the meaning. Sex
and gender are qualities that belong to substances, but
cannot belong to the qualities of substances.'

But while the nature of the thing which the adjec-
tive is employed to express cannot be varied, yet it
may exist in different proportions ; and hence the ad-
jective is varied to express different degrees of the
quality indicated by it, and these variations are called
Degrees of Comparison.

When the simple quality is denoted, the adjective
is said to be in the Positive Degree. When a higher
degree is signified, the adjective is in the Comparative;
and when the highest degree is expressed, it is said to
be in the Superlative. Logically considered, indeed,
the positive involves the idea of comparison as much
as the comparative : thus, when we aifirm of a moun-
tain that it is lofty, we must have a tacit reference to
other mountains ; when we affirm of any particular
river that it is rapid, we (unconsciously, perhaps, but
yet actually) make a comparison between it and some
other rivers. We consider it, therefore, impossible to
state any essential difference between the degrees of
comparison ; but in addition to what we have already
said, we may mention that the comparative degree de-
notes that the quality expressed by it belongs to one
of two objects in a greater degree than to the other ;
and the superlative, that it belongs to one of several
in a greater degree than to any of the rest. For ex-
ample, when we say that the line A is longer

than the line B , the meaning is, that both lines

have a certain quality — length, but that A has more
of it than B. When the comparison is drawn between
more things than two, we use the superlative. Thus,

we say of the lines A , B , C— — , D ',

that C is the longest. In the same way, speaking of
stone and wood, we might say, * Stone is the harder
body of the two;' but if we are discoursing of iron,
stone, and wood, we must use the superlative, and say,
' Iron is the hardest body of the three.'
The whole class of Numeral Adjectives, from their

u an alik* in
I* noun itMidg
hm it it in the
>n tlie OM* of a
' The Ponea-
• fonn, ai well
rt ends with '<
plural.

raAL.

ihen

itben' t

itben.

le PoneisiTe is
; thus —

lAL.

en's
on.

changed in ter-
a. which it qua-
lere is no such
lier respects, our
cal propriety to
nder cannot pro-
' but an accident
it is obserred by
to a noun udjec-
lys precisely the
es it is applied,
eat woman," the
leaning in both
the subjects to)
t of difference in
num, in the same
ecisely the same
nation is accom-
e meaning. Sex
p substances, but
knees.'

vhich the adjec-
)e varied, yet it
i hence the ad-
degrees of the
ations are called

id, the adjective
When a higher
he Con)parative;
led, it is said to
isidered, indeed,
)arison as much
firm of a moun-
acit reference to

any particular
sly, perhaps, but
eeu it and some
re, impossible to
;i the (kgreeg of
we have already
rative degree de-
; belongs to one
m to the other;
,0 one of several
e rest. For ex-
. is longer

that both lines
hat A has more
s drawn between
perlative. Thus,

SKOLIsa OBAUMAS.

tM^ natuM, tiaanot be in any other degree than the
positive; and with respect to Attributive Adjectives,
it is to be observed that those only which expren a
quality which may exist in greater or less proportions
can be compared : for instance, if the exact tdetu re-
presented by the words eiroular, aquare, triangular, and
also such words as chi<f, extreme, universal, true, and
eternal, be apprehended by the mind, by the very act
of apprehension it will be seen that it would be contra-
dictory to their nature to admit of any increase. Let
the student reflect on this, and then he will be able
to dispense with rules about the use of chief, perpen-
dicular, &c. because he will see at once, from the
nature of the idea suggested by the word, whether it
admits of increase or dimiiuition.
_ The Comparative is formed by adding «rto the Posi-
tive, if it end with a consonant, and r simply, if it end
in the vowel e ; thus, hard, harder ; large, large)'.

Adjectives compared in this manner are said to be
Regular ; but some adjectives follow no fixed rule in
forming their degrees of comparison, and these are
called Irregular. The following are those most com'
raonly jn use : —

Inflection ofVerba

OSITIVK.

OMPAKATIVE.

SVPKRLATIVK.

Good

Better

Best

Bod

Worse

Worst

Little

LesB

Least

Much or

many

Most

late

Later

Latest or last

Near

Nearer

Nearest or next

dray, speaking of
ae is the harder
;oursing of iron,
irlative, and say,

ives, from their

Sometimes the same idea is conveyed by prefixing
an adverb to the adjective in its simple state : thus
instead of saying juster, we might say more just;
but it is not therefore to be inferred that more just
is the comparison of just. Were this principle ad-
mitted, we should soon have inextricable confusion.
In such cases, mare is an adverb in the compara-
tive, qualifying the adjective just, and the two words
should be parsed separately. The prefixing of an ad-
verb cannot, with any justice, be called a variation of
the adjective.

A few adjectives have a plural form, particularly
the demonstrative, this and that ; in the plural, these
and those : one, other, and another, are also sometimes
varied by number or case.

Inflection of Pronouns.

The Pronoun, like the Noun, is varied by Gender,
Number, Person, and Case.
The Personal Pronouns are thus declined : —

SiNQULAR NVMBKR.
NOMIHATIVi;. PUSSKSSIVE. OBJECTIVE.

lit Ptrton, I Mine Mc

Sd ... Thou Thino Thee

M ... He, she, It His, hers, its Him, her, it.

PlUKAI. NUMBEII.
NOSirNATIVE. F0S8E8SIVE, OBJECTIVE.

Irt Perion, We Ours Us

Sd ... Yeocyou Yours You

Sd ... Tliey Theirs Tliom.

By inspecting the two following lines, the student
will understand what we meant by saying, that the
Possessive Pronouns, or, as we prefer calling them,
Pronominal Adjectives, were derived from, and cor-
responded with, the personal pronouns : —

I thou he sho it we you tlicy
mine tliine his hers its ours yours theirs.

The Relative and Interrogative Pronouns, who and
which, are alike in both numbers, and are thus de-
clined :—

Who. Which,

t/aminative. Wlio Which

Potieuive. Whoso Whoso

OldecUve. Whom Which.

ITuU ni cu are indeclinable.

The Verb ii varied in /our ways— BMnriy, by Nam-
ber. Person, Mood, and Tense,

There are two Numbers — singular and plural — M in
the case of the noun; and three Persons, as in the pro*
nouns.

The Moods are generally reckoned Jive in number —
the Indicative, the Subjunctive, the Potential, the Im-
perative, and the Infinitive. But it may well be ques-
tioned if there is any real ground for such distinctiony
as far at least as the Subjunctive and Potential are con-
cerned. The Subjunctive, as it is called, is merely an
elliptical mode of expression, and the Potential is made
up of two or more verbs, and therefore it can with no
propriety be called an inaction of any one of them.

This leaves us the Indicative, by which simple asser-
tions are made; the Imperative, by which command!
are issued; and the Infinitive, which is neither more
nor less than the name of the verb, and in use corre-
sprnds exactly to a noun.

The Tenses are two in number — the Present and
the Past : the Future is not expressed by any inflection
of the verb in English, as it is in Latin, French, and
other languages, but by the help of another verb; and
it is surely absurd to force a distinction upon the Eng-
lish verb merely because it exists in Latin.*

The Participles of the verb are likewise two in num-
ber — the Perfect and the Imperfect. They are often
called the Present and Past, but in themselves they
have no reference to time, and merely indicate the
completion or non-completion of an action.

According to this view of the verb — the only con-
sistent one — it has no such thing as a passive voice.
What is called the passive voice is not formed by any
variety of termination, and so cannot be acknowledged
as an inflection, without opening a door to all manner
of confusion.

' The English verb,' says Crombie in his ' Treatise on
the Etymology and Syntax of the English Language,'
• has only one voice — namely, the active. Dr Lowth,
and most other grammarians, have assigned it two
voices — active and passive. Lowth has in this instance
not only violated the simplicity of our language, but
has also advanced an opinion inconsistent with his own
principles. For if he has justly excluded from the
number of cases in nouns, and moods in verbs, those
which are not formed by inflection, but by the addition
of prepositions and auxiliary verbs, there is equal rea-
son for rejecting a passive voice, if it be not formed by
variety of termination. Were I to ask him why he
denies from a king to be an ablative case, or I may love
to be the potential mood, he would answer, and very
truly, that those only can be justly regarded as cases
or moods which, by a different form of the noun or
verb, express a different relation or a different mode of
existence. If this answer be satisfactory, there can be
no good reason for assigning to our language a passive
voice, when that voice is formed not by inflection, but
by an auxiliary verb. Doctor [being an inflection of
the word doceo'^ is truly a passive voice; but I am taught
cannot, without impropriety, be considered as r jch.'

By conjugating a verb is meant mentioning the pre-
sent and past tenses and the perfect participle.

The past tense and perfect participle are formed
from the present tense by adding ed if it end in a con-
sonant, as rain, rained; and simply d if it end in a
vowel, as change, changed.

If these parts are formed in any other way, the verb

* A little reflection may, I think, suffice to convince any
person tliat wo have no more business with a fiUurt lenie in our
langiiiigo than we have with the whole system of Latin moods
and tenses ; because wo have no modification of our verbs to
correspond to it ; and if we had never heard of a future tense in
some other language, we should no mora have given a particular
name to the combination of the verb with the auxiliary thall or
will, than to those that are made with tlia auxiliaries do, have,
can, mutl, or any utlier.— Priistliy's Budimentt of Engliih
Orammar.

6»3

OHAMBKBflPS INIOBMATIOSr lOB THB PKOPLB.

if called Imfful*r; ud if it wuto any of tham, it ii
■kid to b« Defective.

We lubjoin » ftw of the Irregulur Verbi in most fre-
quent uie, or in whicli miitakee are apt to ariie :—

PMSBlfT.

PAST.

PSnrBCT PABTICIPLB.

was

been

Ariso

arose

arisen

Awake

awoke r*

awaked

Bear (to cany)

bore .

bom

Bear (to bring forth) bare

bom

Bereave

bereft r

bereft

Beseech

besought

bade

bid

Bite

bit

bitten

Build

buUtr

buUt

Catch

caught

Choose

chose

chosen

Cleave (to apllt)

cleft, dove deft, cloven

Cleave (to ding to)

chtve

cleaved

dothe

dothed

clothed, dad

Crow

crew

crowed

Dare (to venture)

durst

dared

Dare (to challenge)

dared

Deal

dealt

Drink

drank

drunk, dnmkon

Eat

ate

eaten

Fly

flew

flown

Freeze

froze

froEen

Hang

hung

hung, hanged

Hide

hid

hidden, hid

lay (to deposit)

laid

Lie (as on a bed)

lay

lain

Ring

rang, rung rung

Rive

rived

riven

Run

ran

run

Shake

shook

shaken

Shoe

shod

Shrink

shrunk

Slink

slunk

Spit

spit

Swim

swam, swum swum

Take

took

token

Tsra

tore

torn

Tread

trod

trodden

Wax

waxed, waxen waxed

Wear

wore

wnm

Win

won

Worked

wrought

wrought r.

The Regular Verb ii thui inflected :—

To LovK,

PTt$CM TfMft

Pott Teiue. Per/M Participle.

Love.

Loved. Loved.

PRESENT TENSE.

SINGULAR

PLURAL.

lit PertOH, We love

SiJ ... Thou lovest

id ... Ye or you love

3d ... He loves.

3d ... They love.

PAST 1

rENSE.

SIKOVLAR

PLURAU

1. I loved

I. We loved

S. Thou lovedst

2. Ye or you lovcil

3. He loved.

3. They loved.

Imperative, Love.

Infinitive, To love.

PARTICIPLIS.

Imperfect, Loving. Perfect, Loved.

The Terb To Write is irregular, and is thus conju-
gated and declined : —

To Write.

Prt$ent Tente. Patl Teme. Perfect Participle.

Write. Wrote. Writton.

PRESENT TENSE.
tINOULAR. PLURAL.

1. I write 1. We write

8. Thou wrttest 2. Yc or you write

8. He writes. 3. They write.

PAST TE.NSE.

tlNOULAH.

1. I wrote

S. Thou wrotest

3. Hfiwi>.* .

Imperative, Write.

PARTICIPLES.

Imperfect, Writing. " 'feet. Written.

• The verbs which are eonJugBtcd regularly as well as Irregu-
larly are marked with an r. Thiu the post tense of awake Is
either ateoke or ataaked i of build, Imilded, or built.
584

PLURAL.

1. Wb wrote

2. Ye or you wrote
J. Thoy wrote,

It\finitive, To write.

The Irregular Verbs, Be, Do, Have, and the Defec*
tiTe Verbe, SIkaU, WUI, Man, ^"t from their frequent
ocouTxenee, ought to be oaiefulljr examined. Tablet of
them are here presented: —

To Be.

Preicnt Tenu.
Am.

Patt Tente.
Was.

PRESENT TENSE

Perfeel PardeipU.
Been.

SINGULAR.

1. lam

2. Thou art

3. He is.

PLURAL.

1. We are

2. Ye or you are

3. They are.

PAST TENSE.

SINGULAR.

1. I was

2. Thou wast

3. He was.

PLURAL.

1. We were

2. Ye or you wore

3. They were.

Imperative, Be, It\finUive, To bo.

PARTICIPLIS.

Impetfiet, Being. Perfect, Been.

The verb To Be has a peculiar inflection, to express
contingency or conditionality, which we here subjoin.
It may be called the Conditional or SubjunctiTe Mood.
In the case of other Terbs, this form is elliptical.

CONDITIONAL TENSE OV THE VERB To Be.

SINGULAR,

1. I were

2. Thou wcrt

3. He were.

PLURAL.

1. We were

2. Ye were

3. They were.

To Do.

Prctent Tenie.
Do.

Past Tente.
Did.

PRESENT TENSE

Perfect Participle.
Done.

SINGULAR.

1. I do

2. Thou doest

3. He does or

or dost
loeth.

PLURAL.

1. We do

2. Ye do

3. They du.

PAST TENSE.

SINGULAR.

1. I did

2. Thou didst

3. He did.

Imperative, Do.

PLURAL.

1. We did

2. Ye did

3. They did.
Ittflnitive, To do.

PARTICIPLKS.

Imperfect, Doing. Perfect, Done.

Prettni Tente.
Have.

PRESENT TENSE.

To Have.

Patt Tente.
Had.

Perfect PartteipU.
Had.

SINGULAR,

1. I have

2. Thou ha8t

3. He luui.

PLURAL.

1. We have

2. Ye hove

3. They have.

PAST TENSE.
SINGULAR.

1. I had

2. Thou hodst

3. He had.

Imperative, Have. Infinitive, To hovo.

PARTICIPLKS.

Imperfect, Having. Perfeel, Had.

PLURAL.

1. Wo had

2. Ye had

3. They had.

PRESENT TENSE.
SINGULAR. PLURAL.

1. I Shall I. We shall

2. Thou Shalt 2. Ye sliall

3. He shall. 3. They shall.

Shall.

past tense,
hingular. plural.

1. I should I. We shoiiM

2. Thou shoiildst 2. Ye should

3. He should. 3. They should.

PRESENT TENSE.
SINGULAR. PLURAL.

1. I Will

2. Thou wilt

3. He wiU.

AV'ILL.

PAST TENSE.

SINGULAR. PLURAL,

1. We will 1. I would

2. Ye will 2. Thou wouldst

3. They will. 8. Ho would.

1. We would

2. Ye would
i. They would.

Mat.

PRESENT TENSE.
SINGULAR. PLURAL.

1. I mny I. We may

2. Thou mnyst 2. Yo may

3. He may. 3. Thoy may.

PAST TENSE.
SINGULAR. PLURAL.

1. I might 1. We might.

2. Thou mlghtst 2. Yo might

t. He might. 3. They might.

ENGLISH GRAMMAR.

CXN.

PRESENT TENSE.
■INOULAIl. PLUHAL.

1. I can 1. Wo can

S, Thou oaiut 2. Ye can
3. He can. 3. They can.

PAST TENSE.
■ItroOLAK. PLCKAI..

1. I could 1. We oould

S. Thou couldst 8. Ye could
S. lie could. S. They could.

Inflection of Adverbs.

Adverbs for the most part admit no modification or
inflection: a few, however, are compared like adjec-
tives.

Some are Regular, as —

POSITIVB.

Soon
Often

Seldom

COMPARATIVE.

Sooner
Oftener

Beldomur

Others are Irregular, as—

P08ITIVK. COMPARATIVE.

Well Better

Badly or ill Worse

Uttle Lera

Muoh More

SIIPBRLATIVK.

Soonest
Oftenest
SeldomcBt.

supbulativi!.
Best
Worst
Leaat
Mask

The student will now be able to jMrae a sentence,
mentioning not merely what part of speech anv word
is, but what inflection it has undergone, and now it
stands related to other words. By way of example,
we shall parte one sentence from Bacon : —

' A single life doth well with churchmen ; for charity will
hardly water the ground where it must first fill a pool.'

A, a numeral adjective, qualifying the noun life. It is com-
monly called the indefinite article.

Single, an attributive adjective, designating the noun life. It
cannot be compared.

Life, a noun, singular number, neuter gender, and the nomi-
native case, because it Is the thing of which something is as-
serted. The plural of life is livet.

Doth, a verb, because it asserts something of the noun life: it
is in the present tense, Indicative mood, and the third person
singular, to agree with its noun life. Doth is now almost obso-
lete, doei being the word in common use. Tho verb To Do is
conjugated thus: Present Tente, Do; Past, Did; Perfect Parti-
ciple, Done.

Well, an adverb, expressing how * a single life doth.' Well is
in the positive degree, and is compared thus : Positive, Well ;
Comparative, Better ; Superlative, Best

With, a preposition, used in a metaphorical sense, to connect
churchmen with single life.

Churchmen, a noun plural, masculine, and the objective; being
tiiu ubjxot shown to be related to something else by the preposi-
tion with. The singular is churchman. All nouns, it should be
remembered, are of tho third person.

For, a conjunction, connecting the clause that follows with
the one which went 1>efore.

Charity, a noun, being ftrimarili/ tho name of a disposition of
mind, and secondarily of tho course of action resulting tram
that disposition; singular number, neuter gender, and tho
nominative to the verb tiHIl.

Will, a verb, present tense, singular number, and third person,
to agree with charity.

Hardly is an adverb of degree, qualifying the verb urater.

Water is a verb in the infinitive mood. To, the sign of the in-
finitive, is suppressed after a great number of verba, and will is
one of tl'cm. Will is a defective verb, and is conjugated thus :—
Present Tense, Will; Past Tens;, Would.

The, a numeral adjective, or definite article, qualifying the
noun ground,

Ground, a noun, singular, neuter, and tho objective, being the
thing which is affected by the verb water.

Where is of tho nature of a conjunction, since it unites the
two membcrti of the last clauae ; but it also has in it the force of
nn adverb, being equivalent to in the case in which. We may
therefore call it a conjunctive adverb.

/( is a personal pronoun, singular, neuter, and third person,
supplying the place of the noun charily. It is the nominative to
tlic verb must.

Must is a verb, asserting something of the pronoun it. It is in
the present tense, and third person singular.

First is an adverb of time, qualifying the verb/U.

Fill is a verb in tho infnitive, to being understood after nito^

In the same way as it was alter wW, in the fcrmer part of th«
sentence.

A, a numeral adjective, or indeflnlto article, designating the
nounpooA

Pool, a npun, singular, neuter, and objeotivo case, being the
thing affected by the transitive verb/IM.

Additional Retnarki.—Botore quitting this division
of our subject, w.e must inform the rrader that the
same word is frequently used in different ways, and
consequently belongs to different parts of speech. No-
thing can be more certain than that every word must
have been originally significant of only one idea ; but
in the progress of language other ideas attach them-
selves to it, and the grammarian must not resist this
extension of meaning, but carefully observe it. To
discover, then, what class of words any word belongs
to, we must ' look before and after ;' but a few examples
will illustrate our meaning best.

' Come out of the wet.' Here toet is a noun, because
it is a name expressive of a certain state of the ele-
ments. * John threw off his uet clothes,' Here wet is
an adjective, because it qualifies the noun elothei. ' A
shower came on and wet tue ground.' Here wet is a
verb, because it expresses an action. The shower did
something — ' wet the ground.'

On the following examples let the student exorcise
himself, in satisfying himself as to the justness of our
assertions with regard to the class of those words which
may belong to one or more : —

I. The sun is the great source of liglU (noun).
Feathers are light (a^Jeo.).
— And nightly lights (verb) the waters with her sheen.

5. Beloved, lot us love (verb) one another; for love (noun) Is
of God.

3. Then he arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and
there was a great calm (noun).

Thy brow is calm (adjec.) and bright.
Wearing no trace of sorrow or of sin.

To still the pang that conscience con impart.
And catin (verb) the restless pulses of the heart.

How often have I loiteiv^ o'er thy green (noun).
Whore humble happiness endeared each scene.

Yet wandering, I fbund, on my ruinous walk.
By the dial-stone aged and green (adjec.).

S. Thy nightly (adjec.) visits to my chamber made.

'\Vhen tho blue wave roll' nightly (adverb).
On deep Galilee.

6. Yes, there are charms that (rel. pron.) scorn the spoiler
Time!

Blessed are those,
Whose blood and Judgment are so well commingled,
T/>a( (eonjunc.) they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop nhe pleases. Give me that (demon, adjec.)

man
That (rel. pron.) is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core.

7. The common still (noun) can only be employed, &c.
Hope quickens the still (adjec.) parts of life.

Is this tho Talbot no much feared abroad.
That with his name the mothers still (verb) their babes ?
It hath been anciently reported, and is still (adverb) re-
ceived, Stc.

.Tohn has been very foolish, <(t<I (eonjunc.) I will not dismie^
hhii.

Let the student further exercise himself in what
respects one part of speech resembles another, and
wherein it differs. He will find that the noun and
pronoun, adjective and adverb, preposition and con-
junction, resemble each other in some respects, but
that they yet are quite distinct.

We conclude this subject with two brief extracts
from Locke's ' Essay on the Human Understanding,'
book iii. chap. 7 : — ' Besides words which are names of
ideas in the mind, there are a great many others that

686

OHAUHBBSrS nVOBllAnOV fOB TLIB PEOPLE.

AN made UM of t6 tigaifx the conn«cUon th»t th«
mind givei to ideal or propoiitiong one with another.
The mind, in communicating itt thought to others,
doe* not only need signi of the ideas it hae then before
it, but other* alto, to ahow or intimate some particular
action of its own, at that time, relating to those ideas.
This it does several ways ; as is and i> not are the

Kneral marks of the mind affirming; or denying. But
sides affirmation or negation, without which there is
in words no truth or falsehood, the mind does, in de-
claring its sentiments to others, connect not only the
parts of propositions, but whole sentences, one to
another, with their several relations and dependencies,
to make a coherent discourse.

Though prepositions and conjunctions are names
well known in grammar, and the particles contained
under them carefully ranked into their distinct subdivi-
sions, vet he who would show the right use of particles,
and what significancy and force they have, must take a
little more pains, enter into his own thoughts, and ob-
serve nicely the several postures of his mind in dis-
coursing.'

Whoever wishes really to understand the nature and
use of words, should study carefully the third book of
Locke's invaluable essay.

III. — DERIVATION.

Deriration is that part of Etymology which traces
words to their original form and signification.

The ideas attached to words are purely arbitrary and
conventional ; there being no reason, for instance, why
the sound represented by the combination of letters
fire should suggest the idea of heat, while that of
ice should give the notion of cold. From this prin-
ciple it follows, that the real import of any word can
be ascertained only by induction — that is, by observing
the common idea which it suggests in every different
position that it may occupy. Some, indeed, have
affirmed, that in order to ascertain with presision the
philosophical import of a word, it is necessary to trace its
progress historically, through all the successive mean-
ings it has been employed to convoy, from the moment
that it was first introduced into the language ; and
others, not content with this, prosecute their etymolo-
gical research till they arrive at the literal and primi-
tive sense of the root from which it springs, but it
may well be doubted if such a course of procedure is
followed by any substantial benefit at all proportionate
to the labour which it imposes on the student ; and one
thing is certain, that an appeal to etymology from use
is altogether nugatory, and displays an utter ignorance
of the nature and function of words. The derivation
or pedigree of a word will by no means universally lead
to its real meaning. Ilorne Tooke and his followers
have employed themselves in tracing words to their
sources, and with wonderful success ; but their specu-
lations, however interesting in some respects, are almost
useless, as far as the grammar of our language is con-
corned ; and certainly, though that school of philolo-
gists should succeed to their utmost desire in chasing
every word now in use up to some Icelandic or Gothic
origin, it would in no way interfere with the present
structure of the English tongue. It may be very in-
teresting to trace our language from the period when
it was only the rude jargon of wandering hordes of
savages, down to the present time, when it is capable
of expressing with precision the minutest distinctions
of the metaphysician or the most glowing conceptions
of the poet ; but it belongs rather to the philologist tu
enter on such investigations than the grammarian.
Still, some ground is common to both, and it is neces-
sary to say a few wordd on the subject.

Words are usually divided into two classes — Primi-
tive and Derivative.

A Primitive word is one not derived from any other
word in the language; as, man, school.

A Derivative word is either compounded of two sig-
nificant words in the language, or of uiic significant I
586

word and soma termination that modifies iti meaning ;
as, tohoolman, eeholar.

The bulk of the Encliih language is Anglo-Saxon,
and so are the forms of its grammar. A considerable
number of its words, however, are from the Latin, and
not a few from the Greek, both as entire words, and
as parts of words or prefixes. [For further information
on this point, the reader is referred to the article Lan-
OUAOE, No. 52.] The following is a list of these Pro-
fixes, together with examples of the manner in which
they enter into combination with other words : —

LATIN paBrizcs. \

A, ab, or abi, from ; as, avert, to turn from ; absolve, to Iooko
from i oi/traot, to draw from ; ainormal, bom the rule.

Ad, to; as, adhert, to stick to.

Am, round about ; as, ambition, literally, a going round about.

Ante, before; as, antecedent,

Circum, round ; u, e<rcumnavigato.

Con, col, cor, together; as, conjoin, convoke, conect, correct— tlio
n being changed Into / and r respectively for the sake of euphony.

CVnfra, against ; aa, contradict.

De, down ; as, destroy, demolish.

J>i or cH$, asunder ; aa, divert, dttsolvc.

E or ex, out of ; aa, evolve, extract

Extra, beyond ; aa, exiraotddauy.

In, in or Into; as, {nject.

Inter, between; aa, intervene.

/n(ro, within ; as, introduce.

Juxla, nigh to ; aa, ju.v(apoaition.

Ob, op, in the way of; aa, o&atruct, oppose.

Per, through ; as, perforate.

P<»(, after; as, poifpone.

Pre, before ; aa, prefix.

Pro, instead of; aa, pronoun.

Prcler, beyond ; aa, preternatural. I

Re, back ; as, replace. \

Eclro, backward (implying motion) ; as, /<(ragrade.

&', aaido ; aa, fecedo.

£116, under ; aa, eiiblunary.

Suftr, above ; as, «uperinduco, fuperfluons.

Tram, acroaa; as, franjport, (ranratlantic, ttWM Hie su.

ORBCK PRKPIXIS.

yi, without; aa, anomoloua, amorphous.

Amphi, both; aa, atnpAibious.

Ana, up, through; as, anatomy.

Anti, against; aa, ^.^niichrist.

Apo, from, away ; aa, apoatate.

C'a(a, down ; as, rafostropbe.

Dia, through ; aa, diago^iii.

Epi, upon ; as, epilogue, •; idemic.

Hyper, overmuch ; aa, Aypercritical.

Hypo, under; as, A^ocrite.

ileia, change; aa, inefamorphosls.

Para, near tu ; aa, paraphrase.

Peri, round about ; a«, jierimcter.

tiyn, together ; aa, tywA, «.vnagague.

Affixes.
It is not so easy to trace the Affixes to their original
meaning, as they now seldom retain any signification
when taken by themse^es, but are used merely to
modify other words. We shall present a few of them,
with examples, but we are far from thinking that the
list is complete : —

AFFIxas rORMIMO NOUNS.

ant

II rd

ary

eer

ent

ill

Iter

en ■)

/V I.

iee or ir J

ate )

denoting tho

agent,
or doer of a
thing; ua,

Tragedian, historian.
Clniniant, combatant
(Scholar, llor.
Drunkard, dotard,
Adyeraary, actuarjr.
Engineer, auctioiufr.
Adherent, torrcspoadent.
Accuser, belicvt'r.
Apologi«f, «'liarti»t.
Actor, Creator.
Puneter, spinster.

AFPIXKS FORMINO VERBS.

denoting to

make or

cause; aa.

f Harden, strengthen.
J Puxi/y, ch^ti/y.
j ClvUiee, etfualite.
V. Alienate, aasassinoie.

fiNOLlSH ORAMMAlt.

Awttxa* roitMiMa adjiotivib.

M "]

' AH^il, beautt/ul.

out

BounteoiM, plentoou«.

denoting full of,

Fstberiy, home<y.

tome

or abounding

Troublefoim, tolljoni<.

iu;M,

Wealthy, mighty.

ical

I)emocrat<i;a(, method<ca<

i, Kxtentive, Initruct^vf.

Arf IZII f OBMINO ABITBACT NOUNB.

metrf

' Amutement, abatenwnf.

nt$i

Ooodfww, hardneM.

lion

Convulftoii, uxpanWon.

Hon

denoting

Produo<toN, vlndica/<un.

Piety, probUy.

hood

considered

ChildAood, manhood.

thip

abitractedly.

Friend<A<p, court»A/;).

dom

Christendom, kingdom.

rte

BishopHc.

tud«

L Lassitude, fortUude.

All words muit orinnally have had only one mean-
ing, but subserviently they come to have Tarious
secondary significations. These are attached to them
according to fixed laws of the association of ideas; but
in the case of each individual word, the signification
must be inferred from the relation which it bears to
the other words with which it stands connected.

A very large and important class of words, whose
primary signification refers to the operation of sensible
things, are applied secondarily to modes of thinking;
as, imagine, apprehend, comprehend, adhere, conceive,
instil, disgust, disturbance, tranquillity, abstraction,
sincere, foresight, penetration, acuteness, inclination,
aversion, deliberation, sagacity, attention, &c. But the
prosecution of this subject falls more within the pro-
vince of the logician than the grammarian, and here
we may draw our observations on derivation to a close.

SYNTAX.

Syntax — from two Greek words, *yn, together, and
taxis, a putting or placing — is that part of grammar
which shows how words are connected and arranged.

Etymology, we have seen, treats of the materials of
language, individual words ; but it is the business of
Syntax to point out by what rules these words are put
together, so as to form sentences. By a sentence is
meant a number of words so united as to make sense;
that is, to declare or afiirm something: thus the words,
* The city of Edinburgh,' do not form a sentence, be-
cause they declare nothing; but if we suy, ' The city
of Edinburgh is the capital of Scotland,' a distinct
assertion is made, and therefore the words form a sen-
tence.

We must here remind the reader that every sentence
roust contain at least a subject and a predicate, the
subject being the thing spoken of, and the predicate
the action or state of being aflirmed of it.

When the verb forming the predicate is transitive,
the word which it affects is called the object: thus in
the sentence, * John learns his lesson,' John, being the
subject of discourse, is in the nominative, and lesson,
being the thing affected by the predicate learns, is in
the objective case.

RULES OF SYNTAX.
Rule I.— Nominative and Verb.

A verb agrees with its nominative in number and
person ; as, / reod , he learns.

This rule is of very extensive application, and if
understood in its full import, it will render useless
many others that are commonly set down by gramma-
rians. It may be expressed in more general tenns
thus : The number and person of the subject of a sen-
tence determine the number and person of the verb.
For example, in the sentence, * John runs,' John, the
subject, is singular, and, like all nouns, of the third
person ; we therefore use the third person singular of
the verb, run*. Again, in the sentence, 'John and
James read,' the subject, John and James, ezpreises an

idea of more than one, And lo ike Ter1> must ht plural
— read, not reads, as it would have been I.ad only one
name been mentioned. In this sentence, ' John or
James intends to accompany me,' it is obvious, from the
very nature of the conjunction or, that inlenlion is pre-
dicated or asserted only of one of the persons, and there-
fore the verb is in the singular, intend*.

As collective nouns, though singular in form, may
yet suBgest the idea of plurality, they are joined either
to a singular or a plural verb, according as the idea
suggested is that of unity or plurality. Thus when we
say, ' The army it on its march,' we seem to lose sicht
of the individuals composing the idea represented l>y
the word army, and speak of it as one mass ; but if we
say, ' The peasantry go barefooted,' this mode of ex-
pression seems to give us an idea of a number of people
existing separately, and we therefore put the verb in
the plural. With respect to the collective noun, the
only thing further to be observed is, that if in one part
of the sentence it is made to stand as singular, it ought
not in another to be used as plural.

A noun is sometimes put in the nominative, even
when it is not the subject of the sentence, but merely
stands connected with a participle; thus in these lines
of Cowper —

' Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast
(The itormt all wcathereUj and the ocean crossed)
Bhouts into port,' &c.

the words storms and ocean, joined to the participles
weathered and crossed, are neither the nominatives to
any verb, nor are they the object aflTected by a transi-
tive verb or a preposition. Still, they are in the nomi-
native; and this construction is known among gram-
marians as the nominative absolute. Some gramma-
rians, indeed, contend, and not without reason, that there
is an absolute case, quite distinct from the nominative;
and that to speak of the * nominative absolute ' involves
a contradiction of ideas. It must at once be conceded,
that the noun conveys very dififerent ideas in the two
cases refen'ed to, and we cannot well deny that they
ought to have separate names, in the same manner as
we give difi«rent namss to the nominative and objective,
although they are the same in form.

In every case, the idea represented by the subject
must be carefully noticed, and then the predicate be
conformed to it.

To each rule we shall subjoin a few examples of
erroneous construction, being persuaded, in common
with Crombie, of the truth of Lowth's remark, that
a good M'ay ' of teaching right, is to show what is
wrong.'

1. This course of lectures were delivered last spring.

2. In the human species, the it\/luence of reason and instinct
are generally assisted by tlie lessons of experience.

3. Was nou present at the meeting ?

4. There are abundance of treatises on that subject.
6, At this time, the House of Commons were of little weight

6, Every one of these theories are unfounded.

7. irof the nuMfer and A<«(cAo(ar« there?

Rule II.— Possessive Case.

When the relation of ownership is to be pointed out,
the Possessive Case of the noun denoting the owner is
used: thus, 'This is John's hat.' Here the relation
of ownership is to be declared as existing between the
person John and the thing hat, and consequently the
name of the possessor is put in the possessive case.

If the name of the owner be a compound name, the
last of the component parts only receives the sign of
the possessive : thus, * the Queen of Great Britain's
prerogative ; ' also when there are two separate names.

as, ' Robertson and Reid's office.'

1 This is John Thomson his book.

2. James is in ^¥a^ker'^ and Son's of&ce.

3. Charles is a member of the Mechanic's Institution,
i. Have you rend CAamixr'f Journal ?

SSI

OHAHBEBfPS OrrOBMinOH ffOB tHE PIOPUL

Rule in.-OI4Mitlr* Cms.

Aoiire traniitiTe Twbt and prcpoiitioui t«ke tli« Ob-
(ectire Cue »ft«r them thui : * Do ju$tiee, 1ot« mercjf,
and iralk humbljr with God.' In this tentence, justice
and nurcf an in the objectiTe, being aiiected hjf the
verbi do and love retpectivelv ; and Ood ig alio in the
objeotire, being the object of the relation pointed out
bjr the prepoiition with.

Some active transitive verbi appear to take two
objective casei after them ; but it ie much more con-
■iftent with the analogy of the language to understand
a preposition : thus, * He sent me the nook,' where me
and book are both in the objective. It is quite clear
that book is the thing immediately alTected by the verb
tent, it therefore mutt be in the objective ; but as to
me, it seems most natural to understand the preposi-
tion to, when the sentence would be, ' He sent the book
to me.' Ellipses of this sort are quite common, and it
is altogether unnecessary to bring in any new gram-
matical rule or principle to account for idiomatic ex-
pressions thus produced.

Under this rule we may further observe that all
words denoting measure, whether of time or space, are
capable of being put in the objective, a preposition
bemg understood. Thus in the sentences, ' The wall is
seven feet high,' ' I was three days in the country,'
the words feet and da^s are in the objective, the pre-
position for or during beine uiuier'tood. As, however,
the nominative and objective oi all nouns in English
are alike (suffer no inflexion), this remark must be
allowed to be of limited utility.

I. I told t/e that I would come.

ii. tfAosbouldlfoiK, ifnotniyfathcr?

3. Do you know teho you speak tof

4. He that con doubt whether he be anj-thtng or not, I speak
not to.— LocKi.

Rule IV.— Pronouns.

Pronouns agree in gender, number, person, and case
with the nouns for which they stand, and are in all re-
spects to be treated as the nouns would have been had
they been used. In the sentence, 'The master in-
structs his pupils,' the pronoun supplies the place of
the possessive case of the noun master, which it of the
singular iiumber, third person, and masculine gender ;
we therefore use Aw, which corresponds to all this.
Again, 'John and James learn their lesson:' here
their stands for two nouns, and so must be plural.

1. Thou Shalt also make a laiier of brass, and Ms foot also of
brass.

5. For my namf and memory, I leave it to men's charitable
speeches, and to foreign nations, and to the next age— Bacon.

3. Rebekah took gladly raiment that was in the house, and
put them on Jacob.

4. I saw the wholo species delivered from their sorrows.—
Addison.

& Those arc the l>irds wliom wo cnll gregarious.

Rule v.— The Inflnltlvc.

One verb governs another in the Infinitive : as, ' He
loves to study,' where to study is the object of the
verb lot>es.

Before the verb denoting the object of the predicat-
ing verb, the preposition fo is generally put; and it is
in this case called the sign of the infinitive. But as
we already saw that the infinitive is nothing but a noun,
the utility of this rule may well be questioned.

The sign to is omitted after the following verbs : —
Bid, can, dare, feel, hear, let, make, may, must, need,
shall, see, and will. We do not sa^, ' lie bade roe to
go,' but, * He bade me go.' The mfinitive of a verb
may also come after a noun or an adjective, as well as
after another verb.

1. Sylla 'ybliffed them submit to such terms as the senate were
pleased to impose. (See also Rule I.)
i. The king cai««i them/«/ the weight of his displeasure.
». I desired him coil in the evening.

4. You need not to trouble yourself on my account.

5. God malieth the sun to rise on the evil and on the gmxt.

Rule VI.— AppesUkm.

Nooni and pronouns added to other nouni and pro*
nouns to explain them, are put in the tame caie; tour,
' Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, it celebrated for
its university.' Here Hdinbttrgh, being the subject
of the tentence, it in the nominative: and the noun
capital, with itt adjunct of Scotland, being added to
explain it, it in the nominative alto. The two wordn,
in catet of thit kind, are taid by grammariani to be
in appotition.

' Brutut killed Ceesar in the Capitol ; him who had
been his friend.' Here Ceuar is in the objective,
governed bv the verb killed} and as the succeeding
pronoun refers to it, it must be in the objective too. If
it were he, there would be no violation of any rule in
crammar, but a misrepresentation of a historical fact, as
it would lead us to believe that Bautus befriended Caesar,
whereas it was Caesar that had befriended Brutus.

There seems to be an exception to this rule in such
expressions as, ' I called at Smith's the bookseller,'
where Smith's and bookseller are evidently marks of
the same idea, but yet the one has the sign of the
possessive ('s), which the other has not. At far at the
pottessive case (so called) is concerned, it is in most
instances awkward to add any explanatory word to it;
and the sentence runs much more smoothly if we use
the preposition of; thus, ' I called at the shop of Smith
the bookseller,' where both words are obvioutly in the
objective.

1. Vour friend, him whom you Introduoed to me yesterday,
vety soon departed.

i. Why do you treat Jlfary.i4nn so harshly, shevibo has always
been so affectionate ?

3. The leader was taken, Aim who defied the law. l

4. 1 am going to see my friends in the country ; the)/ whom'u^
mot at the furry.

Rule VII.— The Verb To Be.

The verb To Be has the same case after it at it has
before it: thus, * i4(/>ed was a good king.' Here the
word king, coming after the verb tros, is in the nomi-
native, because it it descriptive of Alfred, the subject
of the sentence. * She, supposing Aim to be t*i«> gai-dener,
saith unto him.' Here gardener is to be considered in
the objective, because Aim, going before the verb to be,
is in the objective, governed by the verb tupposing.

It requires very little penetration to perceive that
this seventh rule is included in the sixth, for the verb
to be does nothing more, in such cases, than marl;
that the two nouns between which it is put are diffe-
rent names for the same thing. On thit subject; Mr
Mill, in his Analysis, Vol. i. p. 117, reasons with his
usual acuteness. In showing how the name of a
class conies to be used for the name of an individual,
he savs, ' I have the name of the individual, John,
and the name of the class, man ; and I can set down
iiiy two names, John, man, in juxtaposition. But this
is not sufiicient to effect the communication 1 desire-
namely, that the word man is a mark of the same idea
of which John is a mark, and a mark of other ideas
along with it ; those, to wit, of which James, Thomas,
iic. are marks. To complete my contrivance, I invent
a mark which, placed between my marks John and
man, fixes the idea I mean to convey, that man is
another mark to that idea of which John is a mark,
while it is a mark of other ideas, of which James,
Thomas, &c. are marks. For this purpose, we use in
English the mark is. By help of this, my object is
immediately attained.'

Those capable of understanding this dissertation
will immediately see the virtual identity of our sixth
and seventh rules ; but here, as in other cases, we bare
been anxious not to depart from the common doc-
trines ; and the repetition of the rule, while it may be
useful to some, can do harm to none.
I. You believed {( to be %>■.

5. It was not me who said so.

S. It appeared to be A<r who carried on the business,
4. Though I was blamed, it could not have been me.

ENGLISH ORAMHAB.

tbis dissertation
ntity of our sixth
her cases, we bare
the common doe-
e, while it may be

These we take to b« the great leading principles on
which the Syntoz of the English language is founded,
and bjr the thorough understanding of which, the stu>
dent will be enabled to see the construction of almost
any sentence. Many grammarians, some of whom — par-
ticularly Crombie and M'Cullocb— we highly respect,
have given many more; but we adhere to the decision
of Dr Johnson, the dictator of English literature, who
says, that 'our language has so little inflection or
variety of terminations, that its construction neither
requires nor admits many rules,'

A few miscellaneous remarlis (we cannot dignify them
with the name of rules) will conclude this part of our
subject: —

1. Every adjective must qualify a noun, either ex-
pressed or understood : thus in the lines —

' Autpkiout Hope I in thy tmet garden grow
Wreaths for au^ toil, a charm for wery wo,'

dvery adjective is immediately followed by its noun.
But in this,

* Few shall part where many meet,'

the noun men is obviously understood.

We have already seen that a and an (commonly
called the indefinite article) are identical in meaning;
but there is this difference in their application, that
a is prefixed to words beginning with tne sound of a
consonant, the long sound of u, and vowels sounding
like w; and an to words which begin with the sound
of a vowel. Thus we say, a man, but an ox; a house,
but an hospital; a one-horse coach; a unicorn; an
easterly wind, jcc.

2. The exact import of the four words, eaoh, every,
either, and neither, which are known by the name of
Distributive Adjectives, ought to be carefully attended
to, and, from their very meaning, it will appear that
thdy must always be joined to a noun in the singular.

Eueh means the one and the other of two : thus
Cowper, in his ode, ' The Lily and the Rose,' says pro-
perly —

• CntU a third [flower] surpass you both.
Let taeh bo deemed a queen.'
Every refers to any number more than two, considered
individually : thus Byron, referring to the unfortunate
separation of himself and Lady Byron, says —

< Both shall live, but every morrow
Wake us from a widowed bed.'

Either means the one or the other of two; neither, not
either, not the one nor the other of two. The use of
both words is seen in these lines —
— — • Lepidus flatters both,
Of both is flattered ; but he neither loves,
Nor cither cares fur him.'— HuAKspnAnK.
Milton makes a wrong use of either in these lines —

' She was cheered,

But silently u gentle tear let fall
From either eye.'
8. In English, as already noticed, the adjective is not

Seuerally inflected for any purpose except to express
egrees of comparison; but to this remark there are
two exceptions. These are the Demonstrative Adjec-
tives this and that, which have corresponding plurals,
then and thou: thus we say, this man, but these men;
that map, but thote maps.'

4. It is not the office of an adjective to qualify either
a verb or another adjective; this must be done by an
adverb. We do not say, ' James reads good,' but
• James reads well.* ' I am nyrself ind^erenl honest,'
should be, * I am myself indifferently honest.'

' In general, no quality, when considered in concrete,
or OS qualifying some particular subject, can itself be
conceived as the subject of an^ other quality, though,
when considered in abstract, it may. No adjective,
therefore, can qualify any other adjective. A great
yood man, means a man who is both great and good.
Both the adjectives qualify the substantive: they do
not qualify one another.' — 449m Smith,

That this ii the giniiu of our language, admiti not of
reasonable doubt ; but there are several exc<^ptions. We
speak of a thing as being of ik florid red colour, and of
iron aa being red hot. We say, ' a great many were
present ; ' * the doors were wide open ; ' Byron speaks
of the * pale blue sky;' in all which cases it is quite
clear that the first adjective in some degree modifies
the second. Whether this idiom is capable of being
metaphysically defended asainst the reasoning of Smith,
or whether such expressions are to be regarded as,
to use the words of Johnson, ' spots impressed so deep
in the English language, that criticism can never wash
them away,' is a question into the discussion of which
we shall not enter. About the authority of the exprea-
sions there can be no dispute.

It was already pointed out that certain adjectives,
from their very nature, do not admit of comparison ;
and it should now be observed that, for the same rea-
son, many of them, such as universal, omnipotent, and
others, whose signification cannot be increased, ought
not to be qualified by any adverb.

5. Tautological expressions ought to be avoided, and
no word should be introduced into a sentence which
has not some distinct function to perform.

* From whence came he i ' should be, ' Whence
came he 1 ' because, as we already saw, whence, in itself,
means 'from what place.' Again, in the senteace, * I
doubt not but that he will rome,' it is obvious, on a little
reflection, that the idea intended would be completely
conveyed by this form of expression — ' I doubt not
that he will come,' and the insertion of but serves no
useful purpose. By reversing the sentence, this may
be more obvious — ' He will come, I doubt not that
(thing).'

In this sentence, taken from Goldsmith's ' History ol
England ' — ' The New Englanders were determined to
attack the royal forces as soon as «'«■ they should
march out of Boston ' — the word ever is of no use, and
consequently should be omitted.

Pernaps under the same remark might be included
the following, which, however, from its extensive appli-
cation, we shall keep separate.

6. Two negatives ought not to be used, unless affir-
mation is meant.

In this respect Bacon, Shakspeare, and Locke, and
indeed all our early writers, frequently offend. Usage
was in their times divided; but it has now become
fixed, and that on the side of metaphysical propriety.

Bacon says — 'The joys of parents are secret, and
so are their griefs and fears; they cannot utter the
one, nor will they not utter the other.' Shakspeare
says —

' Bo not too tame neither.'
And again,

* Aur do not saw tho air too much.'

Goldsmith, too, has violated the idiom of the Englieh
tongue in this respect, although he has offended in good
company : ' Never was a fleet more completely* equipped,
nor never had the nation more sanguine hopes of suc-
cess.' Never should be ever. ' Ho is not unjust' is
right, if we mean to express much the same idea as ii
conveyed by the words, ' He is just.' By some it is
maintained that this mode of expression strengthen!
the affirmation, and certainly it may do so in spoken
language ; but in writing, it serves only to introduce
ambiguity, and so ought to be avoided.

7. Certain conjunctions go in pairs; thus — both, and ;
either, or ; neither, nor ; though or although, yet ;
whether, or; so, that; not only or not merely, but
also ; so, as ; as, as ; such, as. Most of these words
are conjunctions, but not all.

' I will neither come or send' is wrong ; because or
is not the correlative of neither : it ought to be, * I
will either come or send,' or, ' I will neither come nor
send.'

It. Derivative words generally take the same prepo-
sitions after them as their primitives.

Goldsmith offends again in saying, ' Catiline was in-
satiable of wealth;' because we do not say to satiatQ

689

cHAitmntfrB dhobiutiov fob thk pkoplk.

(th« primltiTe of InMiiabl*) m penon </ wMklth, but
with weidth.

9. Certain prepofitiona an appropriated to certain
wordi and pbraMi.

We do not Mjr, ' To hare faitli to a person,' but ' in
a peraon ;' ' To find difficultjr teith doing a thing,' but
'in doing H;' 'To differ icitA a penon,' but '/roma
person.'

Such idiomatic eiprewioni are only to be made
familiar by an extensive and well-directed course of
study ; or, as Milton has it, * by a well-continued and
judioiouH conversing among pure authors.'

10. After tho comparative decree, whether of adjec-
tives or adverbs, and the adjective other, the conjunc-
tion Man is used : thus, * Better is a littlo with right-
eousness, than great revenues without right ;' ' This is
none other than the house of Qod.' Shakspeare has
offended against this idiom —

' The sun no iponer shall tho mountains touch,
But wo will ship him honcc.'

J9i«< ought to be than, * Scarcely had Austria been
crushed, Man it was announced,' &c. — Qoldsmitr.
Than ought to be when,

1 1 . Tlie Perfect Participle, and not the Past Tense,
if used after the verbs have and be.

This remark requires to be attended to in using irre-
gular verbs, but in verbs that are regular, no mistake
can arise, as both parts are the same. In nothing, we
venture to remark, does defective scholarship sooner
betrr.y itself than in a wrong conjugation of the irre-
gular verbs.

' They had from the beginning began to embrace
opposite systems.' — Ooldshitu. Beyan ought to be
biegun.

' You must not think
That wo are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard bt thook with danger.'

— Shakspeare.

Shook should be shaken.

12. Adverbs ought to be placed so as to Icaro no
doubt what word is affected by them.

' The negroes are to appear at church only in boots.'
By this position of only, it appears that the negroes were
not to come to church unless ' in boots,' or with nothing
else but boots; but the meaning intended was, that they
should appear at church, and nowhere else, in boots.
The sentence should therefore have stood thus : — * The
negroes are to appear only at church in boots.' ' Pom-
pey played a despicable part enough betwixt them.'
Etiough ought to be immediately aftor deipicable.
' Caesar so turned the fate of the day, that the barba-
rians were almost cut off to a man.' It ought to be,
' were cut off almost to a man.'

EXERCISEJ!.

To all these remarks we shall subjoin a few miscel-
laneous examples, on which the iitudent may exercise
himself. We shall refer to the Rule or Remark vio-
lated as we go on.
1. Are either of us to blame ? (Rule I. Remark 2. i
%. Thoeo kind of things give most sntiiifiiction. iRulu I. Kc-
mark 3.)

3. I act«d in compliance to his request. (Remarks 8 and 9.)

4. Let such teach others who themBclvcH cxnel.— Popk. (Ro-
nuirk 7.)

& These new divines ofltred salvation upon caster terms, hy
substituting practice to belief, and a man's own efforts to vica-
rious satislkctlon.— AlKKN'B Leiteri. (Remark 'i.)

t. There is nothing more pleases us as to have our performances
praised. (Remark 10.1

7. Antony led the vmy direct to Italy. (Remark 4.)

8. Neithr.' of them appealed to impotent laws which i»iild
affonl them no proCcction.— Robirtsov. (Ruio IV. Kenurk S.l

9. It is wonderful how preposterous tlie aflTairs of this world are
managed.— Kbanklin. (Remarks.)

10. During the rest of hhi consular year, Btbulus oould only
osoape outrage by not only avoiding all luwembiii's of the people,
but every solemn and important meeting of the senate.— i/<#(0ry
o/Roae, Cabinet Cyclopa4ia. (Remark I!.)

590

11. I navsr did npssit ftr doing good,
Nor shall not now — SaAKsrBAKa. (Raniarks fl and 9.)

1 %, The wisest prinoM need not think It any diminution to their
greatness, or derogation to thslr lufflelanoy, to rely upon oounssl,
—Bacon's Ei$aiii. (Remark 9.)

13. The hostilities which twice tntermpted the progress of the
community, neither seemed to originate In any Imparative claim
of national honour or advantage.— Wadi'b Dritith Htitorg. (Re-
marks lit and 7.)

14. It was observed to mc, that In this country no man who is
able to work need go supperloss to bed. This fitr ho stated the
Ihct.— Combe's Ao(« on America. (Rule V. Remark 4.)

15. When a nation forms a government, it is not wisdom, but

power, which they place In the Iwnds of the magistrate

Robert Hall. (Rule IV.)

16. Tho leaders of the fleet and tho army began mutually lu
accuse each other.— Oolosmith. (Remark fi.)

17. Royal proclamations continued as omnipotent as in tho
preceding rclgn.- Wade.

18. There have been thrco riots in England of late, each of
which have boon levellod against diisuntcrs. — HorsRT Hall,
(Remarks.)

The student should now be so familiar with tho
Rules of Syntax, which are nothing but generulised
facts regarding the customarv modes of uniting words
and sentences together, that he will be able to commit
his thoughts to appropriate language; that is, such as
shall convey to others the exact meaning he has in his
own mind. To do this, however, not merely with accu-
racy, but also taste, besides attending to the rules of
syntax, he must take care, first, that all the words he
uses belong to the English tongue; and secondly, that
they be employed in their usual and recognised accep-
tation.

A word not English is termed a barbarism, t^nd
when used in a sense different from its established otae
an impropriety ; both should be equally avoided, either
iu writing or speaking.

punctuation.

Punctuation, or the insertion of points in written
language, is usually considered a part of erammar, and
a knowledge of its principles is desirable for correct
literary composition. The introduction of points is
said to be useful to mark places at which a pause of a
lesser or greater length should be made in reading.
This definition is not altogether wrong, but punctua-
tion has much higher objects in view. Points are
necessary for marking the parts or sections into which
sentences and paragraphs are divided, so that the exact
meaning or sense may be apprehended, and perfect
regularity preserved. The real use of points, there-
fore, is to cut off and separate single words, or groups
of words, from each other. Sometimes the separation
need only be slight, and for this the point called the
comma (,) is sumcient. For instance, * Providence has,
I think, displayed a tenderness for mankind.' Here
there is a comma before and after ' I think,' because
these two words express somethins thrust into the
sentence, which should be kept in some measure
distinct. The semicolon ( ;) is used to mark a more per-
fect separation of words. In general, it cuts a sentence
into two or more parts, one of which has a reference
to the other. Thus, ' Economy is no disgrace ; for it
is better to live on a little than to outlive a great
deal.' Here the sentence is in two sections, the semi-
colon marking the boundary of separation. The c(don (:)
signifies a still wider separation in the words of a sen-
tence; but its qualifications are so indistinct, and so
liable to misconception, that in practice it is now
almost entirely disused, and the period or full stop (.)
is employed in its stead.

The other marks used in written language are as
follows: — The mark of interrogation (!), which is put
after words asking a question; the mark of admira-
tion (I), put after any exclamation of surprise, lamen-
tation, or scorn ; the dash ( — ), which is sometimes
employed instead of a semicolon, or for any kindred
purpose ; and the parenthesis ( ), for enclosing a word
or portion of a lentence foreign to the tenor of the

niMki 6 and (.)
diminution to thtlr
1 raly upon oounMl.

the progTOH of the
ly imperative claim
mUMHtory. (Re-

itry no man who Is
Is far ho atated the
Remuric 4.)
l» notwiMlom, but
f the magiitrato

' began mutually tu

a.)

inipotont as in tho

tnd of late, each of
«.— RoviHT Hall.

^miliar with the
; but generulised
of unitiof; wordg
e able to commit
; that is, Buch as
ning he has in his
merely with accu-
ig to the rules of
t all the words he
,nd secondly, that
recognised accep-

a barbaritm, t^ui
ts established ofae
Uy avoided, either

points in written
t of srammar, and
sirable for correct
ition of points is
rhich a pause of a
made in reading,
}ng, but punctua-
riew. Points are
ections into which
, 80 that the exact
nded, and perfect
of points, there-
words, or groups
les the separation
point called the
' Providence has,
mankind.' Here
I think,' because
thrust into the
n gome measure
mark a more per-
it cuts a sentence
Ji has a reference
10 disgrace; for it
to outlive a great
sections, the semi-
,(ion. Theco/on(:)
;he words of a sen-
indistinct, and BO
ractice it is now
od or full stop (.)

language are as
(1), which is put
t mark of admira-
f surprise, lanien-
hich is sometimes
r for any kindred
r enclosing a word
the tenor of the

M0LI8H ORAHMAB.

NflM. Good writers endeaTOur to aroid reauiring
either parenthetio marks or dashes, both of whicn indi-
cate irregularities of thought and expression.

CONCLVSION.

We !iaTe now explained the Etymology and Syntax
of the English tongue, as far \m our liroits permit ;
and in drawing to a close, we may be allowed to im-
press on our readers the value of the science which we
have been endeavouring to expound. If they have in-
telligently gone along with us in our various remarks,
they will not be surprised when we assert that this de-
partn.ent of human knowledge, if skilfully cultivated,
will be productive of very valuable results. To under-
stand the grammar of a sentence, is nothing more or
less than to understand its sense, and to see clearly
how its various parts are connected; while in learning
to recognise the different modifications that words un-
dergo, and tho different arrangements of which they
are susceptible, to express difference of thought, we
have exercised many of the mental faculties, and in so
far laid the foundation of what is much wanted — a just
system of Logic.

The sources whence the student will derive effectual
aid in the prosectton of this interesting subject, we
have already pointed out incidentally ; but let no one
lament too much though he should not have access to
them. Rather let hiiu, by additional thought on his
own part, make up for the deficiency, and he may rest
assured that, by accustoming himself to mark the diffe-
rent modes of expression he meets with in reputable
authors, a system of grammar will evolve itself, which
will be all the more valued — if we may not say valuable
— that it has been wrought out by his own exertions,
and not received by tradition or passively from the
hands of another. Following this plan, the real method
of induction, he will either reproduce the rules which
we have set before him, or else see their erroneousness.
So that, in either case, we shall deserve well of him;
for, if we are right in anything, we shall have served
as a guide to him ; and in those points where we have
erred, we shall h<tve put him on the way to find out
our errors. We know very well that the pupil cannot
see with our eyes, and we have therefore only endea-
voured to direct his attention to such objects as he
may see with his own. So far as he sees, he should
believe, and no farther. To dogmatise is the method
of a grammatist, but our ambition has been to act the
part of a philosophical grammarian, and, as such, we
caimct conclude without warning our readers never to
forget that words in themselves are nothing, and that
they are only valuable in so far as they are the symbols
of ideas. Beautifully and justly has Johnson said,

• Wonls are the daughters of earth, and things only
are the sous of heaven,' Language is but a vehicle of
thought, or, at best, its instrument, and to view it as an

* end unto itself,' is the vain humour of a pedant. Let
none be so taken up with words as to forget solid
things.

COMMON ERRORS CORRECTED,

The remaining space of the present sheet could
scarcely, we think, be better employed than in enume-
rating some examples of the most common errors in
the, pronunciation and selection of words. In every
part of the country there are some peculiar vices
of speech, which have been handed down from one
generation to another, and are generally so inveterate
in most minds, from the effect of early habit, that no
cultivation which the mind may receive in mature
life altogether obliterates them. For any one who has
occasion to mix in refined society to be thus liable
every moment to the use of some barbarism of speech,
is a misfortune of some magnitude; for nothing tends
BO much to convey a mean impression of his education
and habits of life. The most beautiful young female,
who, silent, appears a kind of divinity, is reduced at
once to common earth when we hear a few inelegant

words fall from li«r mouth. Coleridn Mmawlura
tells that he wa3 once much prepossessed in favour of
an individual whom he met at a dinner-table, and who
appeared a dignified and respectable person, until,
some kind of truit being ihtroduced, he heard him ex-
claim, ' Oh, them's the jockies for me 1 ' Words are
the exponents of con'-'-ons of mind, and when mean
ones arc used, we unt. \bly suppose the condition of
mind to be mean.

EIUtORS IN FAONUNCUTION.

The interchange of w for v, and v for w, and the put-
ting of the sound of h before words where it is inappro-
priate, and taking it away where it ought to be. £x-
amples — rill you tiait to get some vine and wictualsl
An 'ard-boiled hegg.

The sound k instead of g at the ends of wordi.
Examples — Something, nothinAr.

The addition of r at the ends of words ending in
vowels. Examples — Idear, winder, Elizar.

Changing the termination en, ot'n, or djm, into ing t
as gardin^ for garden, fountin^ for fountain, soverinjr
for sovereign, and the like.

DNORAMBIATICAL F0KM9.

Between you and /, there is a great want of con-
scientiousness in most partisans. Correction — Between
you and me, &c.

I am not so proud as him. Cor, — As he.

You will do it better than her. Cor. — Than she.

May thou as well as me be meek, patient, and for-
giving. Cor. — As well as I, &c.

While the house was being built. Cor. — While the
house was in the course of being built.

He don't go to town to-day. Cor. — He does not go
to town to-day.

I rather think he is out of town. Cor. — I believe he
is out of town.

I had better go myself. Cor. — It were better that I
should go myself.

I had oblige to go. Cor. — I was obliged to go.

John is tall in comparison to James, Cor. — John il
tall in comparison with James.

He is a very rising man. Cor. — He is rising very
rapidly.

She readied a dish for ub. Cor. — She cooked, or pre-
pared, a dish for us.

She was a superior woman, or, She was a most superior
woman. Cor. — Superior can only be used with regard
to something else which is at the same time expressed :
thus. She was a woman much superior to the generality
of her sex.

This is better nor that. Cor. — This is better than
that.

Short-lived, long-lived. Cor.— Short -lifed, long-
lifed.

The then Earl of Winchelsea; the then Mrs Bennet.
Cor. — The Earl of Winchelsea of that time ; the Mrs
Bennet then living.

He lays asleep in the cabin. Cor. — He lies asleep in
the cabin.

His health was dranh. Cor. — His health was drunk.

The dinner was all eat up. Cor. — The dinner was
all eaten up.

I went to table and eat very heartily. Cor. — I went
to table and ate very heartily.

A couple of shillings. Cor. — Couple can only be pro-
perly applied to objects in connection ; as, a married
couple, a couple of pointers.

John, James, and Robert, were sober workmen, the
latter particularly so. Cor. — The last particularly so
(the objects enumerated being more than two).

Ask at him. Cor. — Ask him.

The ' Manchester Guardian ' is a well-advertised paper
— meaning a paper which usually contains many adver-
tisements. Cor. — The * Manchester Guardian ' usually
contains many advertisements, or — enjoys a large share
of the patronage of advertisers.

I could not give him credit, trithout he changes his

fi91

CHAMBERS'S INTOSMATIOir FOR THB PEOPLE.

bcharlour. Cor.— I could not girt him oradit, unloH
he oh»nni bit bvhariour.

I will go, *xeept I ihould b« ill. Cor. — UnleM I
nhouldbeTu. . . ^ .

I MW them »H, umtu two or three. Cor. — I mw
them alli except two or three.

I took lorae cream into » bowl. Cor. — I took lome
cream in » bowl.

I am going /or to do it. Cor.— I am going to do it.

He WM a devoted antiquarian all hii dayi. Cor, —
He wa« a devoted antiquary all hi* dayi. (Ant'V/iMirian
if the adjective.)

James ii going to be a medical man. Cor. — Jamei
ii going to De a phyiician, lurgeon, or medical prac-
titioner.

He ia <ffUner wrong than right. Cot-.— He ii more
frequently wrong than right.

I have no right to pay thia tax. 1 have no right to
be distreiied by that man's conduct. Cor. — I ani under
no obligation to pay this tax. I am not obliged to
suffer from that man's conduct.

You will be neceisitated to submit. Cor. — You will
bo obliged to submit.

}Ie is not intending to purchase it. Cor. — He does
not intend to purchase it.

Don't talk of thoie sort of things to me. Cor. — Don't
talk of that sort of things to me. Sort qf thing* is a
mean and objectionable expression. 'Things of that
kind ' is more elegant, as well as correct.

The castle is seated bg the Uaronne. Cor. — The
castle is seated beside the Garonne.

Lord Byrun was born at London. There have been
destructive fires at Edinburgh. Cor. — Lord Byron was
born in Lundon. There have been destructive fires in
Edinburgh. (,At is only proper with respect to a small
town.)

I met him on the street. Cor. — I met him in the
street.

I don't know, but I will inquire at my friend. Cor.
— Of my friend,

I wat calling for you yesterday. Cor. — On you yes-
terday.

Oh, I toill fall, and nobody sAo// help me. Cor. — Oh,
I shall fall, and nobody will help mc.

I have been to London, and am now going /or Liver-
pool. Cor. — I have been in Loudon, and am now going
to Liverpool.

He was married on Miss Edmonstone. Cor, — He was
married to Miss Edmonstone.

They were some distance from home when the acci-
dent happened. Cor. — At some distance, &c.

He lives opposite the Koyal Exchange. Cor. — Op-
posite to, &c.

Pray, sit into the fire. Cor. — Pray, sit near the fire.

The performance was approved 0/ by all who under-
stood it. Cor. — The performance was approved by all.

They attacked Northumberland's house, whom they
put to death. Cor. — They attacked the house of North-
umberland (or the Duke of Northumberland), whom
they put to death.

It IS true what he says, but it is not applicable to the
point. Cor. — What he says is true, &c.

Together with the national debt, the greatest national
advantages are aLo transmitted to succeeding genera-
tions. Cor. — Alto is superfluous.

Failing in bis efTort, he again repeated it. Cor, —
Again is superfluous.

He is noicay thy inferior, and in this instance is no-
way* to blame. Cor.— He is in nowise thy inferior,
and in this instance is not at all to blame.

It is neither more nor less than medicine in disguise.
Cor. — It is simply medicine in disguise.

The master never challenged him for stealing. Cor.
— The master never reproved him for stealing.

He charged me with want of resolution, in which he
was greatly mistaken. Cor. — He charged me with want
of resolution, but in this censure he was greatly mis-
taken.

He gave her a beautiful book in a present. Cor. —
592

He gave her a beautiful book as a present : (or better)
He presented her with, or made her a present of, a
beautiful book.

No lets than two hundred scholars have been edu-
cated in that s<:hool. Cor. — No fewer, do.

There was a quanlilg of people present. Cur, — There
was a number of i>eople present.

It is above a year since the time that I left school.
Cor. — It is more than a year since I left school.

lie felt the peculianieii of his situation. Cor. — He
felt the peculiarity of his situation. In like manner
dtlicaqi should be preferred to delicalenus, incapabililg
to incapabUntss, ke.

He was guilty of such atrocious conduct, that he was
deserted by his friends for {[ood and all. Cor. — He was
guilty of conduct so atrocious, that he was entirely
deserted by his friends.

OBSOLETE, AWKWARD, AND MEAN FORMS.

I had at lief do it myself as persuade another to do
it. Cor. — I would as readily, &c.

He convinced his opponent by sheer dint of argument.
Cor. — Entirely by force ol' argument.

He is not a whit better than those whom he so libe-
rally condemns. Cor. — He is not in any degree, kc.

lie stands upon the bond, and will not abate a jot of
his claim. Cor. — He insists on the strict terms of the
bond, and will not in the least abate his claim.

Good satin, / take it, is considerably superior to
common silk. Cor. — I presume, Lc,

You have no call to do it. Cor,- ■ i'ou have no oc-
casion to do it.

I have no right to pay. Cor, — I em not bound to pay.

Politics too often sets mett by the enrs. When tl^ey
come to words, and /all out, reosoii is generally liit
sight of, I should not wonder but on this occasion
there might bo broken heads going. Cor. — Politics too
often cause quarrels. When men enter into contro-
versy, and differ violently, reason is generally lost sight
of, I should not wonder but on this occasion they
might commit some violence on each other.

We shall have a regular breah-up in the ministry.
Cor.— We shall h..ve •. dissolution of the rainistrjr.

He was very de: li ous in smelling out the designs of
his neighbcurs, C'-r. — In penetrating, &c.

He is a Ihorotigh-paced Knave. Cor. — He is a groat
knave.

Heretofore Hannibal had carried all before him ;
where/ore he had become very proud, listening to no ad-
vice whalioever; whereas Scipio invariably took counsel
from the most sagacious of his otiicers. — The words in
Italics are all obsolete and objectionable.

He wist not what to do. Cor,— He knew not what tu
do.

He little wots of the storm that is brewing. Cor.—
He is not aware, &c.

Topsy-turvy, pell-mell, hurly-lmrty, having a month'n
mind for a thing, currying favour with a person, danc-
ing attendance on customers, get into a scrape, come In
the scratch, flare up, forh out, walk into him, kick up a
row, raise a rumpus, oud the like — All objectionable
from their meanness.

We are at one on the slave question.

I happen to have a little lei^<'l^e upon my hands.

He might have perceived it with half an eye.

My father leji this morning by the mail. Cor. — My
father went away this morning, &c, ' When are you
to leavef is in like manner vicious. The place or
thing left shouM always be stated.

Slang phrases of all kinds should be received warily.
The least objectionable are those which merely suggest
comical ideas; those which tend to present light and
jocular views of moral error are particularly detestable.
It will be the aim of a well-bred and judicious person
to make his discourse neither too nice and formal, nor
too loose and homely, but, as fur as possible, to preserve
a medium between the select language employed in
literature, and tho familiar, and perhaps temporary,
phraseology which prevails in ordinary society.

ARITHMETIC-ALGEuJlA,

dud of argument.

■ jf ou have no oc-

brewing. Cor. —

Ik the present and lucceeding iheet, an attempt ii made
to convey to the comparatively unlearned mind lome
knowledge of Mathematical icience, both ai regardi
nieaturement by numbers (Aritiiuktic) and meaiure-
iiient of dimeniioni (Oeombtry). The iketch we oiTer
of each is neceuarily brief and imperfect; but our end
will be gained if we afford that amount of information
on the subject which is generally possessed by persons
of moderately well-cultivated intellect.

A recognition of the value of nxiwhers ifi coeval with
the dawn of mental cultivation in every community;
but considerable progress must be made before methods
of reckoning are reduced to a regular system, and a no-
tation adopted to express large or complex quantities.
An inability to reckon beyond a few numbers is always
a proof of mental obscurity; and in this state various
savage nations have been discovered by travellers.
Some are f^nd to be able to count as far as five, the
digits of thr^and most likely familiarising them with
that number ; but any further quantity is either said
to consist of so many fives, or is expressed by the more
convenient phrase, ' a great many.' Among the North
American Indians, any great number which the mind
is incapable of distinctly recognising and naming is
figuratively described by comparing it to the leaves of
the forest ; and in the same manner the untutored
Negro of Africa would define any quantity of vast
amount by pointing to a handful of sand of the desert.

On the first advance of any early people towards
civilisation, it would be found impossible to give a
separate name to each separate number which they had
o*:casion to describe. It would therefore be necessary
to consider large numbers as only multiplications of
certain smaller ones, and to name them accordingly.
This is no doubt what gav< rise to classes of numbers,
which are different in different countries. For instance,
the Chinese count by two»; the ancient Mexicans
reckoned by yburs. Some counted hy Jives, a number
which the fingers would always be ready to suggest.
The Hebrews, from an early period, reckoned by teni,
which would also be an obvious mode, from the
number of the fingers of the two hands, as well as of
the toes of the two feet. The Greeks adopted this
method; from the Greeks it came to the Romans, and
by them was spread over a large part of the world,

NOTATION.

Notation is the method of expressing numbers by
means of certain si^ns or figures. The representation
of numbers by written signs is an art generally be-
lieved to have taken its rise after the formation of
alphabets. One of the earliest sets of written signs of
numbers of which we have any notice, is certainly the
series of letters of the Hebrew alphabet which was used
bv that people — Aleph, beth,gimel,daleth, he, vau, zain,
cheth, teth, standing respectively for the numbers one,
two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The Greeks
directly adopted this plan from the Hebrews, forming
their numbers thus : — 1 alpha, 2 beta, 3 gamma, 4
delta, 5 epsilon — here, having no letter corresponding
with the Hebrew vau, they put in the words triri/ut fiau
to denote six ; after which thev proceeded with 7 zeta,
U eta. kc. Before adopting this plan, they had indi-
cated one by iota t, probably because it was the
smallest of their letters; five by TI (P), being the first
letter of pente, five ; ten by A (D), being the initial
of deka, ten. After having for some time adopted the
Hebrew mode, they divided their alphabet into three
classes: the first ten letters expressing the numbers
from one to ten; while twenty, thirty, forty, and so on
up to a hundred, were signified by the next nine,
No. 88.

ninety being expressed by a figure formed f" '-^w
and resembling the Arabic i inverted. The
seven letters expressed respectively 200, 3U0, •<'
600, 700, 800 ; and for 900 there was another inverted
figure. Larger numbers were represented by letters
accented in various ways.

The Romans, from an early period, had a method
of expressing numbers, which seems to have been at
first independent of the alphabet. The following intel-
ligible account of it has been given by Professor Play-
fuir : — ' To denote one, a simple upright stroke waa
assumed | ; and the repetition of this expressed two,
three, &c. Two cross strokes X marked the next
step in the scale of numeration, or ten ; and that
symbol was repeated to signify twenty, thirty, &o.
1 hree strokes, or an open square H , were employed
to denote the hundred, or the thirdstage of numera-
tion ; and four interwoven strokes |V| , sometimes in-
curved PQ > "^ ^v^x divided CIq, expressed a thousand.
Such are all the characters absolutely required in a
very limited system of numeration. The necessary
repetition of them, however, as often occasionally aa
nine times, was soon found to be tedious and perplex-
ing. Reduced or curtailed marks were therefore em-
ploved to express the intermediate multiples of five ;
and this improvement must have taken place at a very
early period. Thus five itself was denoted by the upper
half V , and sometimes the under half_A , of the coa-
racter X f°^ *«" > L » "r the half of r , the mark for
a hundred, came to represent fifty; aim the incurved
symbol ^ , or Clo, for a thousand, was split into l3,
to express five hundred.

These important contractions having been adopted,
another convenient abbreviation was mtroduced. To
avoid the frequent repetition of a mark, it was prefixed
to the principal character, and denoted the effect by
counting backwards. Thus instead of four strokes, it
seemed preferable to write IV ; for eight and nine
the symbols were IjX and |X ; and ninety was ex-
pressed by X C • "In" mode of reckoning by the defect
was peculiar to the Romans, and has evidently affected
the composition of their numerical terms. Instead of
octodecem [eight and ten — for eighteen], and novem-
decem [nine and ten — for nineteen], it was held more
elegant, in the Latin language, to use undceiginti [one
from twenty], and duodeviginti [two from twenty].

But the alphabetic characters now lent their aid to
numeration. The uniform broad strokes were dismissed,
and those letters which most resembled the several
combinations were adopted in their place. The marks
for one, five, ten, and fifty, were respectively supplied
by the letters I, V, X, and L. The symbol for a hun-
dred was aptly denoted by C, which had originally a
square shape, and happened, besides, to be the initial
of the very word centum. The letter D was very ge-
nerally assumed as a near approximation to the symbol
for five hundred ; and M not only represented the
angular character for a thousand, but was likewise,
though perhaps accidentally, the first letter of the word
mille.' — Edin. Rev. No. xviii. p. 193.

The Hebrew, improved Grecian, and Roman nume-
rals were perhaps sufficient to express any single
number with tolerable precision ; but it is easy to see
that they must have been nearly unfitted for use in
the processes of arithmetic. The Greeks certainly con-
trived to overcome many obstacles in the business of
calculation, und even could express fractions — though,
from a practice of adding from left to right, and igno-
rance of the plan of carrying tens to the higher places,
their problems wer«; at all times awkward and compli-
cated. The Romans, however, careless of old incon-
veniences, were still more awkwardly situated than

593

OHAUHDM IVfOBMinOV lOB TBI P10FL&

the OrMki. L«t M17 N*d«r j 4tl MppM*. foe IhMmim,
•T«n lo tlmpl* a quMilon M Um aR>n<:;il of XLVIII
kdd«d to XXXI VI hi* arldmi that plaeing tha
flsurM balow earh othtr, «• w« do wUk Ui« Arabic
numoralf, would Mrve littla to fMsillt«t« luch • c»lcu-
IktioD. In fkot, tlis Hom»ni wen obligtd, wb«r*
mental calculation would not lerrc, to retort to a
meoliauicai proceie for perfomiiiiff problemt in arith-
netio. A box of pebblee called loeuliu, and a board
ealled oftatfiM, oonetituted their nteani of calculation;
and of theie ererv ichonlboy, and inanv other pertoni,
poMetied a tet. The word calculation olaimi no hisher
descent than from caleuhu, a itone or pebble. The
board wai divided from the right to the left hand hy
upright coluinnii, on which the pebblei were placeil, tu
denote unite, teni, hundredi, thouiaiult, ke. The labour
of counting and arranging the pebblei wiii aftorwardi
leniibly abridged by drawing acroaa tho board a hori-
zontal line, above which each niiiglo pebble had the
power of ftro. In the nrogrets of luxury, lali, or diei
made of irory, were uied initvul of pobbloa; and afler-
wardi the whole lyitem wae made more convenient by
lubitituting beadi ttrung on parallel threadw, or pegi
ituck along groorei; nietnodi of calculation itill uied
in Ilutiia and China, and found convenient in certain
departments of Roman Catholic devotion, and in seve-
ral familiar games in more civilised countries. With
such instruments, problems in addition und subtraction
would not be very difficult; but those in multiplication
and division, not to speak of the more compound rules,
mutt have been extremely tedious and irksome. So dis-
agreeable, indeed, was the whole labour, that the Romans
generally left it to slaves and professional calculators.

The numerals now in use, with the mode of causing
them by peculiar situation to express any number, and
whereby the processes of arithmetic have been ren-
dered so highly convenient, have heretofore been sup-
posed to be of Indian origin, transmitted through the
Persians to the Arabs, and by them introduced into
Europe in tho tenth century, when the Moors invaded
and became masters of Spain. Such, in reality, ap-
pears to have been in a great measure the true his.
tory of the transmission of these numerals; but as it
has been lately found that the ancient hieroglvphical
inscriptions of Egypt contain several of them, learned
men are now agreed that thev originated in that early
seat of knowledge, between which and India there exist
more points of resemblance, and more traces of inter-
course, than is generally supposed. In the eleventh
century, Herbert, a Deuedictine monk of Fleury, and
who afterwards ascended the papal throne under the
designation of Sylvester II., travelled into Spain, and
studied for several years the sciences there cultivated
by the Moors. Among other acquisitions, he gained
from that singular people a knowledge of what are
now called the Aiabw numeraU, and of the mode of
arithmetic founded on them, which he forthwith dis-
closed to the Christian world, by whom at first his
learning caused him to be accused of an alliancs with
evil spirits. The knowledge of this new arithmetic was
about the same time extended, in consequence of the
intercourse which the Crusaden opened between Eu-
rope and the East. For a long time, however, it made
a very slow and obscure progress. The characters
themselves appear to have been long considered in
Europe as dark and mysterious. Deriving their whole
efficacy from the use made of the cipher, so called
from the Arabic word tiaphara, denoting empty or void,
this term came afterwards to express, in general, any
secret mark. Hence in more troublous times than the
preoent, a mode of writing was practised, by means of
marks previously concerted, and called writing in cipher.
The Arable characters occur in some arithmetical tracts
composed in England during the thirteenth and four-
teenth centuries, particularly in a work by' John of
Halifax, or De Sacrobosco; but another century elapsed
before they were generally adopted. They do not ap-
pear to hare settled into their present formi till about
the time of the invention of printing.
694

It would b« Impoisibli to calculate, evet) by tMir
own transeendent powers, the service whloh the Arabi(<
numeraU have rendered tu mankind,

NVMnUTION.

Numeration is the art of numbtrinff—ihkt Is, of ex-
pressing any number in words. The Arabic numerical
signs now generally in use take the following well.
known forms:— 1, 3, 8, 4, S, a, 7, B, 0, 0. The first
nine of these, called digits or digital numbers, repre-
sent, each, one of the numbers bntween out and nine,
and when thus employed to represent single numbers,
they are considered as units. The last 7o), called a
nought, nothing, or cipher. Is, in reality, taken by Itself,
expressive of an absence of number, or nothing; but, in
connection with other numbers, it becomes expressive
of number in a very remarkable manner.

The valuable peculiarity of the Arabic notation is the
enlargement and variety of values which can bo given
to the figures bv associating them. The number ten is
expressed bv the 1 and put together— thus 10; and
all the numbers from this up to a hundred can be ex-
pressed in like manner by the association of tvo figures
—thus, twenty, 20; thirtv, 30; eighty-five, B.S; ninety-
nine, 99. These are called decimal numbers, from decern,
Latin for ten. Tho numbers between a hundred and
nine hundred and ninety-nine inclusive, are In like man-
ner expressed by thi'eo figures — thus, a hundred, 100;
five hundred, 500; eight hundred and eighty-five, 80,*i;
nine hundred and ninety-nine, 909, Four figures express
thousands; five, tens of thousands; six, hundreds of
thousands; seven, millions; and so forth. Each figure,
in short, put to the left hand of another, or of several
others, nmltiplies that one or more numbers by ten. Or
if to any set of figures a nought (0) be added towards ^Le
right hand, that addition multiplies the number by ten ;
thus 999, with added, becomes 9900, nine thousand
nine hundred and ninety. Thus it will be seen that, in
notation, the rank or place of any figure In a number
is what determines the value which it bears. The figure
third from tho right hand is always one of the hundred*;
that which stands seventh always expresses millioni;
and so on. And whenever a
new figure is added towards
the rignt, each of the former
set is made to express ten
times its former value. A
large number ii thus ex-
pressed in the Arabic nume-
rals, every set of three from
tho right to the lefl hand
being separated by a comma
for the sake of distinctness.
The above number is therefore one thousand two
hundred and thirty-four millions, five hundred and
sixtv-seven thousands, eight hundred and ninety.
Higher numbers are expressed differently in France
and England. In tho former country, the tenth figure
expresses billions, from which there is an advance to
tens of billions, hundreds of billions, trillions, &c.
In our couniry, the eleventh figure expresses ten
thousands of millions, the next hundreds of thou-
sands of millions, the next billions, &e. The two
methods will be clearly apprehended from the follow-
ing arrangement: —

1, 2 8 4. 5 6 7, « 9

(NOLISH.

Units.
Tons.
Ilimdmls.
Thouannds.
Tens of thoiimnds.
Hunilrods of thoumndn.
HiUions.
Tena of mill ions.
IlundroU of millions.
ThousnndR of iiiilUanfi.
Ten tliouMinds of niilllons.
Hundreds of thousands of mil-
lions.
nillicmB.
Tens of billions.
Iltwdroda of blUlona.

VHBNCH.

CniU.

Tens.

Ilimdrodn.

Thousnnds.

Tens of thousands.

Hundreds of thousamls.

Millions.

Tens of millions.

Hundreds of milliona.

Billions.

Tans of billions.

Hundreds of bUUon!i.

Trillions.

Tens of trillions.

Hundrods of trillionii, iSic.

6
7

ABiTBmno.

For prMtiM in Notation and Num««tlv<n,th«rMMl*r
•hould writo down Inr'fe numWi »lt«rt)»t«ljr lit wonli
•lid flgurM; at firil utitUng bimMlf by th« UM of
ooinmM, liut i;rii(lii»Uy dUp«u>ing with tbew m h«
acqulni fa^'ilii nid c«rUint.y of MprMtlon.

<ilMr K on «MiTm4CT NVMBKM,

Th*re are four ^li^iutMslary departmanti In arithmatlo
•>-Additiuii, MulkipUcatiun, 8ubtrao(ioU| and DtTiaioa,

Addition.
Addition li tha adding or ■nmining up of lereral
numberi, lor tlio purpoie of finding tneir united
amount. We add numbert together when we tay, 1
and 1 raako " 2 and 2 lualce 4 ; and lo on. The me-
thod of writ , ig numben in Addition, ii to place the
flguret under one another, lo that unite will itand under
uniti, teni under teni, hundrede under hundredi, tec,
SuppoM we with to add together the followine num-
ber*— 27, A, 686, 853, and ^75; we range them in
oolumni one under the other, as in the margin, and
draw a line under the whole. Doginning at the loweit

27
A

£86

.152

275

11»5

figure of the right-hand column, -re say 5 and
a are 7—7 and (i are 13— 13 and 5 are 10— IH
and 7 are 25; that ii, 2 te.ii and 5 unite. We
now write the 5 below the line of uniti, and
earry or add the 2 teni, or 20, to the loweit
figure of the next column. In carrying thii
20, we let the cipher go, it being impliod by
the poiitlon or rank of the fint figure, and take only
the 2; we therefore proceed thui — 2 and 7 are 9—9
and 5 are U— 14 and 3 are 17 — 17 and 2 are 19.
Writing down the 9, we proceed with the third column,
carry ina 1, thui— 1 and 2 are 3—8 and 8 are 6—6 and
5 are 11, No more figurei remaining to be added,
both theie figurei are now put down, and the amount
oriumof them all ii found to be 1195. FoUowine
thii plan, any quantity of numben may be luramed
up. Should the amount of any column be in three
figurei, itill, only the lait or right-hand figure ii to be
put down, and the other two carried to the next column.
For example, if the amount of a column be 127, put
down the 7 and carry the other two figurei, which are
12; if it be 234, nut down the 4 and carry 23.

For the lake oi^breTity, in literature, addition ii often
denoted by the figure of a cron, of thii ihapo +.
Thui, 7 + meani 7 added to 6; and in order to ez-
preM the lum reiulting, the lign at, which meani equal
to, ii employed, ai 7 + 6 =s 13; that ii, 7 and 6 are
tqual to Id. Again, 8 -t- 5 + 9 = 22.

Multlpltoatlon.
Multiplication ii a ihort method of addition under
certain ciroumitancei. If we wiih to ascertain the
amount of twelve timei the number 57, initead of
letting down twelve rowi of 57, and adding them to-
gether, we adopt a ihorter plan, bv which we come to
the lame concluiion. For ascertaining the amount of
all lirople numben ai far as 12 timei 12, voung penoni
commit to memory the following Multiplication Table,
a knowledge of which ii of great ralue, and lavei much
trouble in after life : —

I'T"!

8 10

IS 19

1«

108

100

110

120

99 66

110

ISl

132

60 72

tt4

108

120

18S

144

21852
16388

76043
4563
230,529
4,610,50
30,421,5
3 07,372
350,634,609

Thii table li lo well known, that It ii almoit inp«r-
tluoui to explain that, when any number in the top
row ii multiplied by any uuinber in tha lefl-hand side
row, the amount is found in the eoropartnitut or iquar*
beneath the one and oppoiile tha other. Thui, 2 times
2 are 4; 5 tiiuea 6 are 30; 12 tlmei 12 am 144.

The multiplying of numbert beyond 12 thtiM 12 ii
uiually eWMtea by a pmoeie of cawlcuinfiou in written
figures. The rule is to write down the number to be
multiplied, called the mulliplioanit ; then place under
it, on the right-hand side, the number which ii to b*
the muUiplier, and draw a line under them. For ex-
ample, to find the amount of 9 times 37, we Mt down
the figurei thui —

27 {Mulllplkand.)

9 {MuUipUtr.)
243 {Product,)

Beginning with the right-hand figure, we lay 9 timei
7 are 63; and putting down 3, we carry 6, and lay 9
times 2 are 18, and which was carried makes 24; and
writing down these figures next the 8, the product l>
found to b« 248.
5463 When the multiplier coniisti of two or more
S4 figurei, place it lo that iti right-hand figure
oomei exactly undnr the right-hand figure of
the multiplicand ; for instance, to multiply
■ 5463 by 84, we pioceed ai here ihown. Here
185742 tho number i« niultipliod, flrit by the 4, the
product of which being written down, we proceed to
multiply by 3, and the amount produced is placed below
the other, but one place farther to the left.
A line ii then drawn, and the two pro-
ducti added together, bringing out the
reiult of 105742. We may in thii man-
ner multiply by three, four, fire, or any
number of figures, always placing the pro-
duct of one figure below the other, but
ihifting a place farther to the left in each
line. An example ii here given in the
multiplying of 76048 by ihtii.

Multiplication is denoted by a croii of this shape X t
thus, 3 X s '.*4, signifies, that bv multiplying 8 by
3, the product is 24. A number which ii produced by
the multiplication of two other numben, as 30 by 5 and
6, leaving nothing over, is called a composite number.
The 5 and 6, called the factors (that ii, worken or
agenti), are latd to be the component parts of 80, and
80 ii alio laid to be a multiple of either of theie num-
ben. The equal parti into which a number can be
reduced — aithe twoi in 80 — are called iti aliquot parts.
A number which cannot be produced by the multiplica-
tion of two other numben, is called a prime number.
When the multiplicand and multiplier are the same— •
that ii, when a number is multiplied by itielf once —
the product ii called the square of that number : 144
ii the iquare of 12.

Subtraction.
Subtraction ii the deducting of a imaller number
from a greater, to find what remaini, or the difference
between them. We subtract when we la^, take 3 from
5, and 2 remains; 4 from 10, and 6 remains. To ascer-
tain what remaini, after taking 325 from 537, we
537 proceed by writing the one under the other, as
325 here indicated, and then lubtrocting. ' Commenc-
212 ing nt 5, the right-hand figure of the lower and
smaller number, we say, 5 from 7, and 2 remains;
setting down the 2, we lay next, 2 from 8, and 1 re-
mains; and setting down the 1, we say, 3 from 5, and
2 remains; total remainder, 212.

To subtract a number of a higher value, involving
the carrying of figures and supplying of teni, we pro-
ceed as in the margin. Commencing as before, we find
that 5 cannot be subtracted from 2, and therefore
8432 supply or lend 10 to the 2, making it 12; then we
6815 say, 5 from 12, and 7 remaini. ^tting down tha
1617 7, we take 1, being the decimal figure of the
number which was Arrowed, and give it to the 1,
making it 2, and taking 2 from 3, we find that 1 remains.

595

CHAMBEBffS INFOBHinON FOR THE PEOPLE.

Setting down tlie 1, we go to the 8, and finding it cannot
be token from the 4 above it, we lend 10 to the 4, mak-
ing it 14, and then we »ay, 8 from 14, and 6 ><eniain8.
In the same manner as before, adding the first figure
of the borrowed number (1) to the 6, we say, 7 from 8,
and 1 remains; thus the total remainder is found to
be 1617. From these explanations, which apply to all
calculations in subtraction, it will >>e observed, that
when the upper figure is less than the figure directly
under it, 10 is to be added, and for this one is carried
or added to the next under figure.

Subtraction is denoted by a small horizontal line, thus
— between two figures ; as, for example, 9 — 5=4,
which means, 5 subtracted from 9, and 4 remains.
Again, 19 — 11 = 8; that is, 11 taken from 19 leaves
it; or 19 diminished by 11, equal to 8.

Dlrition.

Division is that process by which we discover how
often one number may be contained in another, or by
which we divide a given number into any proposed num-
ber of equal parts. By the aid of the Multiplication
Table, we can ascertain without writing figures how
many times any number is contained in another, as far
ns 144, or 12 times 12 ; beyond this point notation is
employed. There are two modes of working question*
in division — one long, and the other short. Let
it be required to divide 69 by 3 : according to 3) C (23
the long method, we write the figures 69 as 6_
annexed, with a line at each side, and the y
divisor, or 3, on the left. The question is 9
wrought out by examining how many times
3 is in 6, and finding it to be 2 times, we place 2 on
the right side ; then, placing 6 below 6, we draw a
lino and bring down the 9, and proceed with it in
the same manner. The quotient is found to be 23.
But we take a more difficult question — fix^ntu/ionR
the division of 7958 by 6. In commencing, "^ jr^'^ ^ ' ^'^°
we find that there is only one 6 in 7, and
1 over ; we therefore place the 6 below
the 7, and subtract it, in order to bring
out the 1. The 1 being written, we bring
down the 9 to it, and this makes 19.
There being 3 times 6 in 18, we place the
3 to the product (which in division is
called the tfuotietU — literally, How many —jf-
timest), i^nd 18 below the 19, leaving 1 *'

over as before. To this 1 we bring down the 5, and
trying how many sixes there are in 15, it appears there
are only 2. We place 2 to the quotient, and 12 below
the 15. This leaves 3 over, and bringing down 8 to
the 3, we have 38, in wb'.' .L "^ are 6 sixes. Six
sixes make 36 ; therefor placing 6 to the quotient,
and 36 below the 38, wt ^nd that there are 2 over.
Here the account terminates, it being found that there
are 1326 sixes in 7958, with e. remainder of 2 over. In
this question, 6 is called the divitor; the 7958 is the
dividend, and 1326 is the quotient. ,

Skilful arithmeticians never adopt this long method
of division ; they pursue a plan of working out part of
the question in the mind, called Short Divi-
sion. They would, for example, treat the 6 ) 7^-^8
above question as here shown. The over 1326-2
number of 1 from the 7 is carried in the
mind to the 9, making 19; the I from 19 is in the
same maimer carried to the 5 ; and the 3 from it is
carried to the ? leavine the overplus of 2.

Divir<on is denoted by the following character -v- ;
thus 75 -r- 25, signifies thot- 75 is to be divided by 25.
For example, 240 -H 8 ™ ,>(

By employing the sign. ' . abbreviation! above ad-
verted to, any arithmetical operation may be very
briefly stated ; thus 8-1-6 — t x 3-i-5aB6.

These explanations conclude the subject of simple
or abstract numbers. On the substructure of the few
rules in Addition, Multiplication, Subtraction, and
Division, which we have given, whether in reference to
whole numbers or fractions, every kind of oonventioniil
596

IL
38
36

arithmetic is erected, because these rulei are founded
in immutable truths. Mankind may change their de-
nominations of money, weights, and measures, but they
can make no alteration in the doctrine of abtlraot
numbers. That 2 and 2 are equal to 4, is a truth yes-
terday, to-day, and for ever ; but as to how many pence
are in a shilling, or how many inches in a foot, these
are altogether matters of arbitrary arrangement, and
the treatment of them forms an inferior department of
arithmetical study, taking a different form in different
countries ; this local arithmetic, as we may call it, ia
comprehended in the term

COMPOUND NUMDEItS OB <tUANTITIES.

The calculation of the value of any number of ar-
ticles, or a summation of values, in relation to money,
would be comparatively simple if the scale of money
were constructed on a principle of decimals, or ad-
vancing by tens — as, for example, 10 farthings 1 penny,
10 pence 1 shilling, 10 shillings 1 pound. By making
both weights and measures on the same plan, as 10
ounces 1 pound, 10 pounds 1 stone, 10 stones 1 hundred-
weight ; 10 inches 1 foot, 10 feet 1 yard, &c., ordinary
calculations would be rendered exceedingly '.asy. Thus
if an ounce cost Id., a pound would cost Is., and a
hundredweight would cost 100s. or jClO; or, reversing
the question, if we were asked £10 per hundredweight
for any article, we should know in an instant that it
was at the rate of Id. an ounce. In short, the greater
number of arithmetical calculations would be accom-
plished by little more than a momentary reflection,
without the aid of pen or pencil.

This very convenient system of decimal arithmetic
is established in France and Belgium, and it is t^ere
carried to a most enviable degree of perfection : as^ fur
example, in money reckoning, the franc (equal to our
lOd.) IS the standard coin of account, and is divided into
100 parts called centimes. There is an equal simplicity
in the money reckoning of the North American Union,
in which the dollar (equal to our 4s. 3d.) is divided
into 100 centimes ; but trn weights and measures are
not on the same decimal scale, the advantage is of
comparatively small moment.

In the United Kingdom, the pound or sovereign is
the standard in money. It consists of a series of inferior
coins, advancing irregularly from a farthing upwards ;
as 2 farthings 1 halfpenny, 2 halfpence or 4 farthings
1 penny, 12nence 1 shilling,208hillingsl pound. While,
therefore, tne French compute values in money by
francs and centimes, and the Americans by dollars and
centimes, we compute by pounds, shillings, and pence ;
and to ascertain the value of irregular quantities in
these irregular denominations of money, there is a com-
plex set of rules to be obeyed ; indeed, it may be said
that the principal part of the time usually spent by
youth at school on arithmetic, is consumed in learning
to work questions in this arbitrary and local depart-
ment of the science. We have only room to give a few
examples in this species of computation.

L is the initial letter of the Latin word libra, a
pound, and is used to denote pounds ; « hom the Latin
word solidu$, for shillings; and d from denarius, for
pence : X s. d. are therefore respectively placed over
columns of pounds, shillings, and pence. The mark
for a halfpenny is ^, for a farthing 4, and for three
farthings ^. To find the number of farthings,
pence, and shillings, in any number of pounds,
we multiply by 20, which brings the pounds
i. to shillings; next by 12, which brings the
shillings into pence; and lastly, by 4, which
brings the pence into farthings; as, for example.
Required the number of farthings in X5— we
proceed as in the margin. The result is observed
to be 4800 farthings.

Compound Addition.
In ordinary transactions of business, and making up
of accounts. Compound Addition — that is, the addition
of nionies— is principally required. In the margin is

ARITHMETlld

Im are founded
bange their de-
uurea, but tb«y
ine of abHraot
, is a truth yea-
liow many ponce
in a foot, tbeie
rangetnent, and -f)
ir department of
form in diiferent
may call it, ii

CITIES.

y number of ar-
latiou to money,
I scale of money
lecimals, or ad-
trtbingB 1 penny,
nd. By making
ame plan, as lU
■tones 1 hundred-
ird, &c., ordinary
ingly.asy. Thus
L cost Is., and a
10; or, reversing
ir hundredweight
n instant that it
short, the greater
would be accoin-
entary reflection,

ecimal arithmetic
a, and it is diere
perfection : as^ fur
•anc (equal to our
md is divided into
n equal simplicity
American Union,
Is. 3d.) is divided
and measures are
) advantage is of

id or sovereign is
a series of inferior
farthing upwards;
lice or 4 farthings

1 pound. While,
les in money by
uis by dollars and
llings, and pence ;
iilar quantities in
ey, there is a com-
«d, it may be said

usually spent by
luroed in learning
and local depart-
room to give a few
ion.
ttin word lihra, a

f Awm the Latin
from denarius, for
tively placed over
[lence. The mark

i, and for three
niDer of farthings,
lumber of pounds,
)rings the pounds

which brings the

itly, by 4, which
s; as, for example,
things in £5 — we
e result is observed

iss, and making up

at is, the addition

In the margin it

£31 12

73 14

69 17

87 15

57 12

^£320 12 7i

an ^oount of sums to be reckoned up. The first thing

done is to add together the halfpence and farthings

in the right-hand side; and in doing

to, we throw all into farthings. Thus,

2 and 1 are 3, and 3 are 6, and 2 are

St and 2 are 10. Ten farthings are 2

pence, and 2 farthings, or one half-

Eenny over. We set down ^ for the
alfpennv, and carry the 2 to the
pence column ; this being added, we
find there are 31 pence, which make 2 shillings and 7
pence. We write down the 7, and carry the 2 shillings to
the shillings column ; adding them to the under figure
at the right-hand side, we reckon up thus — 2 and 2 are 4,
and 5 are 9, and 7 are 16, and 4 are 20, and 2 are 22; we
put down 2 aside, and carrying 2 to the second row of
the shillings column, we find on summing it up, that it
amounts to 7 ; this 7 and the 2 set aside make 72 shil-
lings — that is, £3, 12s.; 12, therefore, is written down
under the shillings column, and the 3 pounds are
carried to the pounds column, which is added up as
in Simple Addition, making 320. Thus the sum-total is
£320, 12s. 7H. All accounts in Compound Addition
referring to British money are performed in the same
manner. We recommend young persons to acquire
facility in adding; and it will save much time if they
learn to sum up the columns by a glance of the eye,
without naming the numbers; for instance, instead of
saying 2 and 2 are 4, and 5 are 9, and 7 are 16, and
4 are 20, and 2 are 22, acquire the knack of summing
the figures in the mind, thus— 2, 4, 5, 9, 16, 20, 22.

Compoiuid Multiplication.
Questions in Compound Multiplication are determined
in the following manner: — Having written down the
number to be multiplied, place the multiplier under the
lowest denomination, and proceed as in this example.
We wish to multiply the sum of £37, IGs. 8jd. by 6.
We begin by multiplying the farthings
by the 6; this makes 18 farthings, or
4^d. Setting down the 4> we carry the
Vi to the pence, saying 6 times 8 are
48, and 4 are 52, which is equal to 4
shillings and 4 pence. Setting down the 4 pence, we
carry the 4 shillings onward, and multiplying 16 by 6
find 96, which, added to the 4 shillings, gives 100. This
is equal to £5, so we set down 0, and carry the 5 to
the 37. The amount is 227< The answer of the ques-
tion is therefore £227, Os. 44d.

Total ittra lemainingi

£37 16 8 J
6

£227 44

14 54
178}

£36 14

£8 16 8^

Compound Subtraction.
Compound Subtraction is performed as in the fol-
lowing question: — If we take £27, 17s. 8|d. from
£36, 14s. 54d., how much remains! The first thing
we are called on to do, is to take 3 farthings from
2 farthings, or ^d., and as this cannot be done, we
bon'ow a penny, or 4 farthings, and
adding these to the 2 farthings, we
have 6. We now take 3 from 6, and
find that 3 remains, which is therefore
written down. It is now necessary to
account for the borrowed penny, and a means of doing
this would be to consider the pence of the upper line
of figures as so much less, or 4d. instead of 5d. It
is found, however, to be the most convenient plan to
add 1 to the pence of the lower line, which comes to
the same thing. Adding 1 to 8, in this case, we have
9 to subtract from 5. As this cannot be done, we
borrow Is., which is 12 pence, and adding that 12 to
the 5 makes 17, from which taking 9, there will re-
main 8, which is placed under the pence. The bor-
rowed Is. is also repaid by adding 1 to the 17, making
thus 18 to be taken from 14 ; but as we cannot do
this either, we borrow £1, which is 208. Adding 20g.
to 14 makes 34; then 18 from 34 leaves 16. This is
placed under the shillings, and 1 is carried to the lower
amount of pounds, which are then subtracted as in
Simple Subtraction ; thus, 1 to 7 is 8, 8 from 6, cannot,
l^ut 8 from IG, there remains 8; carry 1 to 2 is 3,

and 3 from 3, nothing remains,
£8, 16s. 8jd.

Compoimd Division.

Compound Division is performed as follows: — We
wish to divide £87, 14b. 9^d. into 7 equal parts. Di-
viding 87 b^ 7, as in Simple Division,
£ 8. d. the answer is 12, and 3 remain — that
7 )87 14 9} is, 3 pounds are over. We set down the
12 10 8;^ 12, and taking the 3 which is over, we
reduce it to its equivalent in shillings,
that is 60; we then add the 60 to 14, making 74, which
being divided by 7 gives 10 shillings, and 4 shillings
over. Setting down the 10, we carry forward the 4;
4 shillings are 48 pence, which, added to 9, makes 57.
This divided by 7 '^ ves 8 and 1 penny over; a penny
is 4 farthings; add to these the 3 in the dividend,
thus making 7; 7 divided by 7 gives 1, that is ^d.
The sum desired, then, is £12, 10s. 8jd.

If the divisor is a composite number — the product of

two numbers individually not exceeding 12 — we can

divide first by one and then by the other,

£ «. rf. as follows: — Divide £376, Us. l^d.

7) 376 11 1^ by 63 : 63 is a composite number ; its

9)53 15 104 component parts are 7 and 9 (seven

5 19 6^ nines are 63). The given amount,

therefore, is first divided by 7, and the

quotient, £53, 15s. lOjd. is divided by 9. The result

is the same as if the original sum had been divided

by 63. £5, 19s. e^d. is the quotient.

When the divisor is a prime
number above 12, the work is in
every respect similar to the former;
but it is performed by long divi-
sion, as in the annexed example : —
Divide £484, 198, 7|d. by 73. The
amount being written down as in
long division of simple numbers, the
pounds are first divided by 73; the
answer is 6. The remainder 46 is
reduced to shillings by mv'tiplying
by 20, and the 198. in the sum
we are dividing being taken in,
makes together 939s., which, di-
vided by 78, gives 12, and 63 of
a remainder. These 63 shillings
are now reduced tu pence by being
multiplied by 12, and the 7 beine
taken in, makes 763; this, divided
by 73, gives 10, and 33 over, which,
being reduced to farthings by being
multiplied by 4, and the three
tak^n in, niakes 135; and this, divided by 73, eive.i 1,
and 62 over. The whole answer is £6, I2s. lo|d. and

£ s. d.
73)484 19 7j|(6
438

73)135(1
_73
62

a fraction f J over.

British Weights and Measures.

The working* of accounts in weights and measures,
as respects addition, multiplication, subtraction, or
division, proceeds on principles similar to those which
have now been explained. The only real difference is
that, for example, in reduction, instead of multiplying
by 20, by 12, and by 4, to reduce a sum to farthings,
if the question refer to ordinary weights we multiply
to bring out the number of hundredweights, 112 for
pounds, and 1 6 for ounces. Suppose wo wish to know
how many ounces are in 15 tons: we multiply 15 by
20, and the result is 300 — that is, 300 hundredweights;
a hundredweight is 112 pounds, so we now multiply
300 by 112, and the result is 33,600 pounds; this mul-
tiplied by 16, the number of ounces in a pound, gives
537,600 ounces. In the addition of quantities, each
denomination is set down in its own column, as in
money, and the summation is made also as we add
money, with the difl^erence, that we carry forward
ounces, pounds, or whatever it may be, to the next
column. The mark ewt. is usually emploved to indi-
cate hundredweights, lb. pounds, and o«. ounces.

The following are the principal tables of weights and

697

OHAMBEBS'S mVOBUlVIOir VOB THE PEOPLE.

HMMOTM Mtkblithed by I»w In the United Kingdom,
and hence called imperial. That which if entitled
ttvoirdupoit weight is the table in use for all ordinary
purposes: —

t,— MBAsuna or lbrotu.

1 Foot.

S ... 1 Yard.
Iti ... S) ... 1 Pole or Perch.
6«0 ... SM ... 40 ... 1 Furlong.
(R80 ... 1760 ... 8W ... 8 ... 1 HUe.

The hand •• 4 tnohei; the Bngliah ell — 45 inohei) the paoa
■■ S faet; and the ftithom — 6 feet the goographloal degree
*• M nautical leagues, or 69-lSl miles. In land measure, the
chain of 100 links— Mftet; a link is equal to 7-l>S inches.

»
M

T,no

6t,8M

8t<Iaiihsa.

144 ...

l.SM ...

tO.MM ...

1,«N,1<0 ...

(,in,M0 ...

II.— Maasuaa or sunraca.

l8q.Foot

9 ... 1 84. Yard.
STli ... Vik ... ISq. Pole.
10,800 ... ISIO ... 40 ... IRood.
4S,taO ... 4840 ... 160 ... 4 ... 1 Acre.

And 640 acres make 1 square mile.

III..

HAiuBBs or CAPaCITV.
1. BdUaUf.

17!8 cubic inches — 1 cubic foot
S7 cubic ibet •• 1 oubio yard.

tiM ton measurement — 8 barrel bulk, or 40 oubio feet.

S. Meaiurcfitr UqiMt, Com, and Dry QoofU.

Cubic

Wat

Inches.

lbs.a7.

8-66«

IGill.

S4-6W

4 ... IPlnt

60318

8 ... S ... 1 Quart.

J77J74

S* ... 8 ... 4 ... IGoL

064948

64 ... 16 ... 8 ... 8 ... IPeok

»1819

SB6 ... 64 ... « ... 8 ... 4 ...

1774S-t

640

1048 ... ns ... US ... 64 ... 38 ...

4 peeks — 1 bushel ; 8 bushels — 1 quarter.

The peek, bosbel, and quarter, are used for dry goods only.
There are, besides, the ooom » 4 bushels; the woy or load — S
quartsn; and the last — 8 leads or 10 quarters.

Aocordinc to the system introduced January 1, 1826,
the imperitu gallon contains 277,274 cubic inches, or
10 lbs. aToirdupois of distilled water at 62° Fahrenheit,
the barometer beinff at 30 inches. Hesped measures
(formerly used for dry goods) were abolished in 1835.

Troy
Grains.

ffM376

437S

7000

98000

106000

784000

1M80000

IV.— UIASUKSS or WaiOHT.

1. Avoirdupoit.

1 Drachm.

16 ... 1 Ounce.

856 ... 16 ... ILh

1,584 ... 884 ... 14 ... 1 Stone.

7,168 ... 448 ... 88... 8 ... 1 Qr.

88,678 ... 1,798 ... 118 ... 8 ... 4 ... 1 Cwt

673,440 ... 85,840 ... 8840 ... 160 ... 80 ... 80 ... I Ton.

PLova WaioHT — 1 peck — 14 pounds ; 1 boll — 140 pounds)
1 saok - 880 pounds, or 84 cwt ; 1 barrel - 106 lbs.

OraiMi

M ...

480 ...

S700 ...

S. IVoy Weight

1 Pennyweight

80
S4«

1 Ounce.
1* ...

1 Ponnd.

Thia w*i|bt is uied in weighing gold, aUvar, plo-
tina, ko. The finenesa of gold is expressed in carats
and grains, the pound or other weight being dirideil
into 24 carats, and the caiat into 4 grains. Thus the
oarat pound is the 24th part of the troy pound, or 10
dwts., and the carat gram the 96th part of the troy
pound, or 60 troy grains.

In Beer lleaiure, the barrel oontune 4 firkins or 86
gallons; and the hogshead H barrel or 64 gallons.

In Wine Meaeure, besides the gallon and its cub-
dirisions, rarioua dtDomJnationa are uitd, ae the butt,
698

pipe. Ite. ; but these are now to be contideied rather
as the names of casks than as eipreesing any definite
number of gallons. The itemdard gmtgu in trade are
as follows: — Pipe of port, 115 imp. galla; pipe of
Lisbon, 1 17 do. ; nipe of Cape or Madeira, 92 dw. ;
pipe of Teneriffe, 100 do. ; butt of sheny, 108 do. ;
honhead of claret, 46 do. ; anm of hock, 80 do.

Herrinai are measured by the barrel of 26§, or cran
of 374 gallons.

ApoAecariei' Weight. — 20 troy grains make 1 scruple,
3 scruples make I drachm, and 8 drachms make 1 ounce.
The ounce and pound are the same as in troy weight.
This weight is used in medical prescriptions only.
The fluid measures used by apothecaries are — 60 mi*
nims make 1 fluid drachm, 8 drachms 1 fluid ounce,
20 fluid ounces 1 pint, 8 pints 1 gallon. (See No. 48.)

The Scottish acre, formerly a standard in Scotland,
and now abolished, consisted of 64937*16 imperial
square feet : 23 Scots acres were rery nearly equal to
29 imperial acres. The Scottish ehoppin was rery
nearly the English wine quart, and the mutehkin wae
rather more than the English pint PreTioui to the
Union with England, the Scottish money pound was
equal to one shilling and eightpence English. Hence
£100 Scots was equal to the sum of £8, 6s. Si' in our
present money.

v.— HiASuaas or timb.

■eo. min.
60- 1 hr.
6600- 60- 1 day.
86400 - 1440 - 84-1 wk.
604800 - 10080 - 168 - 7 - 1

sec.
Imin.
Ihr.
Iday
Iwk.

A second .
60 sec. — I minute
60 min. — 1 hour
84 hr. - 1 day
7 days — 1 week

865 days, or 58 weeks 1 day — 1 common year.

866 days, or 52 weeiu 3 days — 1 leap year.
865 days 6 hours — 1 Julian year.

865 days 9 hours 48 minutoa 49 seconds — 1 soUr yeai.

French Weights and Measures.

Ai French weights and measures are now frequently
referred to in literature, we think it proper to ofier the
following particular! on the subject : —

The French system of weights and measure! ii estab.
lished on a principle much more simple and unerring
than that in use in England — the former is of unirersal
application, the latter can never be anything but local.
The French unity of length and weight it based on an
iuTariablo dimension of the terrestrial globe, which is
recognisable in all countries. It is independent of all
eztrmsio notions, such as gravity and the arbitraty sab-
divisions of duration, an advantage which the length of
a seconds pendulum certainlv does not present. The
admeasurement of a fourth of the earth's meridian — an
ideal circle going round the globe from pole to pole at
right angles with the equator — constitutes the basis of
the French system. The length of thia fourth of the
meridian is cuvided into 10,00^;000 parts; a tingle ten-
millionth part is the tiutre, or tiie umty of long measure.
(A metre is equal to 39f British inches.)

A square, measuring on each side 10 metres, forma
the are, or the unity of the mensuration of surface,
(404 i^i^* 1^^ nearly equal to one British acre.)

A cube, measuring on each of itt tidet 1 metre,
constitutes the ttirt: used for dnr measure.

A cube, measuring on each of its sidet the tenth part
of a metre, it the unity of volume. A veetel gauging
such a cube, it the unity of liquid meatures, and is
called thn litre. (A litre is equal to about a pint and
three-quarters, or nearly a quart British measure.)

The weight of a cube of water, measuring on each of
its sidet the 100th part of a metre, is the unity of
weight, and is called the gramme, A thousand grammes
of pure water at its greatest density (about 4U degrees
of Fahrenheit's thermometer), are of course equivalent
to the litre. (A thousand grammes, forming 1 kilo-
gramme, weigh about 2^ pounds British.)

These unities being oiten too great or too small for
common use, they constitute the basis of new unities on
the simple decimal principle. The names of these new
unities are formed from Greek and Latin words. If to
eipresi multiplioatiou of the original unity, Oreek is

ABITHllBnO.

«fed t if io •xpNM diriilon of the origbal unity, Latm
ii uied, or words ilightljr mc i«d from it. The Ore«k
word! mn, (Ma, for tea, htcto, a, hundred, At/o, a thou-
Mnd, Mid myria, ten thousand. The Latin words are,
dtcem, for ten, eentum, a hundred, and mille, a thousand.
Tiiitta yarious words are placed before, or prefixed to,
the principal unitr. Thus the decametre is equal to
ten metres, and the dtcimetre is the tenth part of a
metre ; the hectolitre U equal to 100 litres, and the cen-
ttlitrt is the hundredth part of a litre ; the kilogramme
is equal to a thousand grammes, and the milligramme
Is the thousandth part of a gramme.

The connection between these weights and measures
will now be clearly seen. The are is the square deca-
metre ; the litre is the cubic decimetre ; and the kilo-
gramme is the weight of a litre of pure water at its
maximum density.

The currency of the country being assimilated by
decimal reckoning to the weights and measures, it may
be safely aTerred that the whole world cannot produce
a more simple and immutable plan of calculation than
that now in use in France and in Belgium.

VRACTIONB.

Hitherto we have spoken only of whole numbers,
which in arithmetic are called integert. We hare
now to treat of fractions, or the parts into which
integers may be broken. The more ordinary fractions
of any single article or number are a half, third, quar-
ter, &c.; but a number admits of being divided into
any quantity of equal parts. All such fractions are
called vtdgar fractions, from their being common. It
is the practice to write vulgar fractions with two or
more small figures, one above the other, with a line
between, as follows : — ^ (one-halOi i (one-third), ^ (one-
fourth or quarter), ^ (one-eighth), } (four-fifths), -f^
(nine-tenths), and so on. In these and all other in-
stances, the upper number is called the numerator, the
lower the denominator. Thus in the fraction -fig, 9 is
the numerator, and 10 the denominator — the latter
denominating or showing into how many parts the
original unit is supposed to be divided, and the former
pointing out how many such parts are in the fraction
spoken of.

It may happen thbt it is necessary to add together
difiTerent fractions to make up whole numbers. In
working all such questions, we must, in the first place,
bring all the fractions into one kind: if we have to add

t, ^, and ^ together, we make all into eighths, and see
ow many eighths we have got ; thus i is | ; then ^ is
I, that is 2 and 4, which make 6, and | makes a total
of J. The same plan is to be pursued in the subtrac-
tion of vulgar fractions.

It is Bometimes necessary to speak of the tenths,
hundredths, or thousandths of a number, and for this
arithmetic has provided a system of decimal fractions.
Where great exactness of expression is required, deci-
mals are indispensable. It has been alroady shown
that in writing common nun: bers, the value of a figure
increases by ten times as we proceed from right to left ;
in other words, we ascend by tens. Now there is no-
thing to prevent us in the same manner descending by
tens from unity. This is done by decimal fractions.
We place a dot after unity, or the unit figure,
which dot cuts oflT the whole number from its frac-
tional tenths ; thus, 120*3 means 120 and S-teuths of a
whole ; if we write 120*31, the meaning is 120 and 31-
hundredths of a whole — that Is, 31 parts in 100 into
which a whole is supposed to be divided. If we go on
adding a figure to the right, we make the fraction into
thousands; as, for instance, 120*315, which signifies
120 and 315 out of a thousand parts.

Tables of specific gravities, population,mortaIity,and
many matters of statistics, are greatly made up of
decimal fractions, and therefore it is proper that all
should comprehend the principle on which they are
designed. In many cases, it would answer the purpose
to write the fractions as vulgar fractions ; but there is
a great advantage in reducing all broken parte to the

decimal notation, for it allows of addbg up oolumne of
de<uma]s all of the same denomination. Their great
excellence, indeed, consiste in the uniformity which
they give to calculation, and the easy methods which,
by these means, they present of pursuing fractional
numbers to any degree of minuteness.

The method of reducing a vulgar to a decimal frao-
tion is a simple question in Division. For instance,
to reduce f to a decimal, we take theji^and putting two

therefore 76

4)800.

ciphers after it, divide by 4, thus -^ ^

is the decimal; or, what is the same thing, 75-handredth

parte of a whole are equal to three-quarters.

8EBIES AND RATIOS OV IfUMBBBS.

A teriet of numbers is a succession of numbers that
increase or decrease according to some law. Of the
two kinds of series usually treated of In arithmetic,
the simpler is one whose terms increase or decrease
by some constant number called the common diffe-
rence. This common difference or rate of increase
is only one, when we say 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 ; it is tteo
when we say 7, 9, 11, 13; and four when we sapr
6, 10, 14, 18, and so on. Every advancement of this
nature, by which the same number is added at every
step, is called arithmetical progression. There Is a
different species of advancement, by which the last
number is always multiplied by a ciycTi number, thus
causing the series to mount rapidly up. Suppose 4
is the multiplier, and we begin at 2, the progression
will be as follows:— 2, 8, 32, 128, 512, 2048, and so
on. It is here observed, that multiplying **■'■ 2 by
4, we have 8 ; multiplying the 8 by 4, we have 32 ;
and multiplying the 32 by 4, we have 128, ke. till at
the fifth remove we attain 2048. This kind of advmce-
ment of numbers is called geometrical progression.
The very great diflference between the two kinds of
progression is exemplified in the following two lines,
the number 3 being added in the one case, and being
used as the multiplier in the other : —

5, 8, 11, 14, 17 — ^Arithmetical Progression.
5, 15, 45, 135, 405— Geometrical Progression.

In the case of arithmetical progression, as above or in
any other manner exemplified, it may be noticed that
the amount of the first and last term is always the
same as twice the amount of the middle term ; thus
5 and 17 being 22, are equal to twice II, or 22. The
cause of this is, that as the numbers increase or de-
crease in equal degrees, the last number is just as much
more as the first is less than the number in the middle;
and the two being added, the amount must consequently
be double the central number. The same rule holds
good with respect to any two numbers at equal dis>
tances from the number in the middle. If the series
be an even number, and do not possess a middle term,
then the two terms nearest the middle (called the mean
terms) must be added together ; thus in the natural
series from 1 to 24, 12 and 13 are the two nearest the
middle, and one being added to the other makes 25, the
sum of the first and last term.

In geometrical progression, each term is a factor of
all the numbers or terms that follow, and a product of
all that go before, so that there is a harmonious ratio
pervading the whole. Each term bears an exact pro-
portion to its predecessor, because the multiplier is the
same. Supposing, as above, the multiplier to be 3, the
term 15 is proportionally greater than 5, as 45 is
greater than 15. In the technical language of arith-
metic, as 15 is to 5, so is 45 to 15. To save words, such
a proposition is written with signs or abbreviations
thus— 15 : 5 :: 45 : 15. The two dots mean it to, and
four dots mean so is. The same formula is applicable
to any series of proportional terms, though not in con-
tinued proportion to each other.

In order to disi-over the ratio between any two terms,
we divide the largest by the least, and the quotient is
the ratio: 45 divided by 15 gives S as the ratio. By
thus ascertuning the ratio of two terms, we are fax-

599

CHAMBEBS'S INF0B1IA110V TOB THE PEOPLIL

nithed with tha meuii of anriTing »t thanti* of othor
UrniB. We ciwiiot do better thiin esplMn the method
of working out t'lu principle in the ratio of nuroben,
by giving the following pMiagM from the admirable
* LeMoni on Arithmetic,', by Mr T. Smith of Liverpool.
Taking the four regularlv-advaDcing termi, 15, 45, 405,
Mid 1215, he procMdi — * Suppose that we had only the
first three, and that it were our wiih to find the fourth,
which term bean the same proportion to the third as
the second does to the first. The thing we have first
to do is, to discover the ratio between the first and
second terms, in order to do which, as before shown,
we divide the laiger by the smaller, and this gives us
the ratio 3, with which, by multiplying the third term,
we produce the fourth ; or let the three terms be
these, 405, 1215, 5, and let it be our wish to find a
fourth which shall bear the same relation to the 15 as
1215 does :3 405. We divide and multiply as before,
and the fourth term is produced. And in this manner,
having two numbers or two quantities of any kind,
bearing a certain proportion towards each other, and a
third, to which we would find a number or quantity
that should bear a like proportion, in this manner do
we proceed, and thus easily may wo find the number
we require.'

Referring to the discovered ratio of 45 to 15 to be
3, or the fifteenth part — ' Now,' continues this author,
' what would have been the consequence had we multi-
plied the third term (405) by the whole, instead of by
a fifteenth part of the second i The consequence would
have been, that we should have itad a term or number
fifteen times larger than that required. But this would
be a matter of no difficulty; for it would be set right
at once, and our purpose gained, by dividing the over-
large product by 15. Let us write this process down :
405 X 45 = 18225, and 18225 H- 15 » 1215,— which
1215 bears the same proportion to 405 as does 45 to
15. And this is the rule, when the terms are properly
placed — MvJtiplying the second and third terms together,
and dividing the product by the first f this avoids all
the difficulties arising from the occurrence of fractions
in the course of tie process, and gives us in all cases
any proportional t'lrms we may require.'

Rule of Three.

On the principle now explained, we can, in any afifairs
of business, ascertain the amount of an unknown quan-
tity, by knowing the amount of other three quantities,
which, with the unknown quantity, bear a proportional
relation. The word quantity is here used, but any sum
of money is also meant.

Let it be remembered that tho ratio of one number
to another is the number of timeu that the former con-
tains the latter; for eiample, the ratio of 6 to 3 is 2,
that of 12 to 4 is 3, and that of 8 to 12 is |. When
two numbers have the same ratio as other two, they
constitute a proportion. Thus the ratio of 8 to 6 is the
same as that of 12 to 9, and the equality of these two
ratios lu represented thus : —

8:6 = 12:9, or8 :e::12:y.

The following is the rule for stating and working
questions: — Make that term which is of the same kind
lu the answer sought, the second or middle term.. Con-
sider, from the nature of the question, whether the
answer shouK' be more or less than this terra ; if
more, make tb smaUtr of the other two terms i\xe first,
and the greatr ■ the third; if the answer should be less
than the mtaJle term, make the greater of the two
terms the first, and the smaller the third; then mul-
tiply the second and third terms together, and divide
the result by the first term. The (quotient found will
be the answer to the question, and it will be found to
bear the samo proportion to the third term as the
second does to the first. Suppose the question be this:
If 3 lbs. of tea cost 9s., how many _ . « . . oi
pounds may be purchased for 21s. f ** • ' " '''
—state the terms, with the larger _

sum last. Should the question, 9 )63

however, be the ijferse— If 7 lbs. 7 lbs.

600

21 :7

4 :8

3
_7
21)^
lib.

:: 10
_8

4)80

20 days.

of tea ooat aia., how much may bo
puKhased for 3s. I— then tho sum
to be ascertained is less, and is put
last. Suppose another plain example:
If 10 men can execute a niece of
work in 8 days, how long will 4 men
take to do the same t

Such is the principle of working
Rule of Three questions, whatever
be their apparent complexity. If
either the first or third term, or
both, include fractional parts, they
roust be reduced to the denominatiou of the fractions
before working: thus if one be reduced to shillings,
the other must be made shillings blso ; if to pence,
both must be pence; and so on. If the middle term
be also a compound quantity, it may either be reduond
to its lowest term, before multipWinK and dividing by
the other terms, or you may multiidy and divide by
Compound Division and Multiplication.

If the middle term be reduced to itit lowest term,
the answer will be in that denomination to which it
was reduced ; thus if it were brought to farthings, the
answer would be in farthings; if to ounces, the answer
would be in ounces.

Example. — If 2 cwts. 1 qr. 7 lbs. sugar cost £8, 14s. 4d,
what will 14 cwts. 3 qrs. cost!

c\vt qr. lb.

2 1 7
_4_

9
28

£ *. d.

8 14 4
20
174
12

owt qr. lb.
14 3 V
_4
59
28

259

47 a I

118 \

2092 472

118
1652
2092
3304
14868
33040
259)3455984(12 )13348

20)1111-11

£ii 11 14

Here, in order to
make the first term a
simple number, it is
reduced to its lowest
term — namel;, lbs. The
third term is theiefore
reduced to lbs. also,
that both may be alike.
The second or middle
term is reduced to
its lowest term, pence.
After multiplying and
dividing, according to
rule, the quotient is
13343 pense, which are
brought to shillings and
pounds. The remain-
der, 147, being farther
reduced to forthings,
and divided by the first
term, gives 2 farthings.
The answer is £55, lis.
llid-iYa

The following is a kind of question which oflen occurs
in business: — A person is unable to pay his debts. He
owes to A £540, to B £260, to C £200, 'being in all

j6 £ £

1000 : 370 :: 540
670
37800
1620 £ ,.
1000)199800(199 16
1000
9980
9000

8800

8000

800

1000)16000'()6
16000

The answer ia £190, )6f.

£1000. On examin-
ing his afiairs, it is
found that he pos-
sesses property only
to the value of £370.
How, then, is this to
bo divided propor-
tionally among the
three creditors, so
that each may receive
a fair share! The
way to arrive at an
answer, is to work out
each creditor's share
as n, distinct account.
Thus, fir^, as to A's
share: —
Following a s'ffiilar calcu-

AHITHMEWC.

liUon, we find thftt B will reoeiTe £96, 4i., and C £74.

Anothw method of com*
pu^^tion would coniist in
aMertaining how many
Bhillinga per pound the
effects would yield. In
thia caae we itate the
termi a« annexed. — An-
•wer, 7«. 4fd. \, or a
fraction mare than seven
ihillingi and fourpence
three fartbinn in tho
pound. By allotting thii
rate of dividend to each
creditor, their respective
shares would be liquidated
as above. Instead of di-

£
1000

£
1

370
20
1000)74OO(7s. 43d.
7000

400
12

1000)4800(4
4000

UOO

1000)3200(3
3000

viding 7400 by 1000, the same result will be found if
74 be divided by 10.

~ Men. £

16 : 45

Questions in arith-
metic arise in which
a sixth term is
required, bearing
a proportion to
live terms already
known. Thia, which
involves what is
called Douhle Jtule
Three, ia exemplified as
follows:— If I give 16
men £45 for 28 days'
work, what must I give,
at the same rate, to 20
men for 35 days' work 1
The answer, according to
the plan of working here
shown, is £70, 6s. 3d.

20
"128
32^

448

M«n.
20
3&
700
48
8600
2800 £ ,.
448)31500(70 6
S186

448)1344(3
1344

Practice and B'cntal Arithmetic.

Under these names are comprehended short practical
methods of working arithmetical questions, partly or
wholly by the mind, or by the jotting of a few figures.
Ordinary business questions are seldom solved by the
Rule of Three, but principally by Practice or Mental
Arithmetic. The kind of questions most commonly
occurring are computations of the aggregate value of
a certain number of articles at a certain price, and the
adding of the whole together to find the sum-total. The
plan usually adopted is to calculate the value of any
number of articles by the nearest round sum, and then
to apply the difference. For instance, a lady is buying
a go«vn from a haberdasher; she has received '5 yards
at 5^d. per yard; the haberdasher tells her in an
instant she has to pay 68. 10|d. He knows it is so by
saying internally to himself — 15 yards at 6d. would be
7a. Od.; then if I take 15 halfpence, that is, 7|d., from
the 78. 6d., I find that 6s. lOJd. will rem<fin.

Another principle followed in this practical arith-
metic is to work by aliquot parts. By remembering
that a penny is the 12th of a shilling, or the 240th of a
pound; that 6s. 8d. is 'he third of a pound; that 3s. 4d.
IS the sixth of a pound, and so on, we are able ^o save
much of the ordinary figuring. As an illustration, let
it bti required to find the value of 3567 articles at 33. 4d.
each. By the usual rules of arithmetic, this question
would be performed by multiplying the 3567 by 40
(there being 40 pence in 38. 4d.), and then dividing
by 12 to bring it into shillings, and by 20 to bring it
into pounds. The practical method is much shorter;
38. 4d. being the sixth of a pound, if we /;\o|r/;7

divide 3567 by 6, we at once obtain the ^>.^22i

amount thus— ^S^**! 10s.

Interest.

Interest is an allowance for the use of money, paid
by the borrower to the lender. The amount of allow-
ance on £100 is called the rate of interett The amount
of money lent is styled the principal. In the United
Kingdom, it^i* customary to reckon the interest at a

certain rate per handted pounds per anniiffl, ot for tli«
whole year. The hundred pounds, for shortness, is
called cent., a contraction of centum (Latin), a hundred.
If the money is lent for a leu term than a rear, then
it becomes a question in arithmetic what is the propor-
tion of interest chargeable. According to the existing
laws (1849), £5 per cent, is the highest legal interest
that is chareeable on money lent in any other form
than by a bill or promissory-note. The interest, com-
monlv called ditcouni, that mar be taken for advar»yj
on bills or promissory-notes is left unlimited. In ge-
neral it varies from about 4 to 6 per cent., according
to the state of the mone^ market or trustworthiness
of the borrower. £5 being equal to 100 shillinge,
the interest on £1 for a year at 6 per cent, ii conse-
quently Is.; and if the interest be £2, 10s., or 2^ per
cent., the charge will of course be 6d. per £1. This ii
so very simple a matter of calculation, that interests
of 5 or 2^ per cent, per annum may in most instance!
be calculated mentally, or at least with a few figures.
When the interest is 3, 34, 4, or 44. per cent., and for
e, less period than a year, the calculation is more
complex, and wili require to be wrought as a question
in Rule>of Three, or the amount may be determined by
an appeal to Interest Tables.

Interest on broken periods is not calculated by calen-
dar months, but for days — the exact number of days
from the day of lending to the day of paying; and there-
fore the calculation of the number of days is an impor-
tant preliminary in the transaction. Bankers and mer-
chants, to save the trouble of calculation, appeal to a
table which shows the number of days from one day
to another in the different months of the year.

The following is an example of the mode of working
a question of interest for a whole year. What is th<>
amount of interest payable on
£649, at 4^ per £100 or percent,
per annum I

£
100

£
•I

£
649

2596
324-10 £ ,. d.
100)2920-10(29 4 1^
200

920
900
20
20
100)410(4
400
10
12
100)rJ0(l
100

TVfe=-i

£ «.

235 10

Or shorter, ai under —
£

649
44
2596
324-10
29,20-10
20
4,10
12
1,20 a £29 4 U

1648

6594

lOiWt

When the period con-
sists of less than a year
(365 days), multiply the
principal by the num-
ber of days, and by
twice the rate, and di-
vide by 73000. (We
get this 73000 by mul-
tiplying 365 by 2 and
by 100). For example
— What ia the interest
of £235, 10b. for 28
days, at 3 per cent, per
annum t Here, for con-
venience, we begin by
multiplying by 7 and by
4, instead of 28. The
6 is twice the iute-
refj, o.

When partial payments are made, it is necessary to
deduct them from the f>rincipal, care beine taken not
to eonftne principal with interest. The following is a
rule to follow in such a case: — Calculate tho interest
on the principal up to the time at which the first par-

601

73000)39564 0(10

791280

7SQ000

61280

735360'
730000

CHAMBERS^B INVOBlCAnOH fOB TBB PEOPLB.

tUl p«yiiMiit U mad*, and add UtoUttprinoipal; firom
thii lum rabtraet the monay paid, and the ramaindar
ii a new prindpid; oomput* ta* intaiaat on tliit prin-
cipal from th* time of th* flnt payment up to the time
of the Moond pavmont, add it to the latter priuoipal;
ii«m the mm lubtraot the Moond sum paid, and the
lemaiuder ii Again a new priucipbl; and continue thia
prooeao till the laat pajmeut.

VmuaaMaa,

Manturation xefen to the measurement of objects,
and ia of three kinds — lineal, or measuring bjr mere
length; tuptrficial, which respects breadth ai well as
length; and wiict, which includes length, breadth, and
thiMuess. In the United Kingdom, the foot of twelve
inches is the common standard of measurement. A
draper measures cloth with a rod of three feet or one
yard, and workmen usually measure the dimensions of
walls, or the superficies of apartments, by a ribbon
marked in feet and inches. In common usage, the inch
is divided into eighths and sixteenths.

As lineal measurement requires no explanation, we
pass to a consideration of superficial measurement, or
that of both length and breadth. A t»p*rficial foot,
which is the basis of this 2iind of measurement, is
either a square of a foot in length and a foot in breadth
— in other words, a foot each way— or it is any dimension
in which the length multiplied by the breadth will form
a foot For example, the surface of a piece of wood,
2 feet in length and 6 inches in breadth, is a superficial
foot. A superficial foot is generally called a square
foot, and is a superficies consisting of 12 times 12, or
144 square inches. Sometimes the term iquart/eet is
confounded with that of /eel square, which is quite a
different thing. A piece of cloth said to measure six
square feet, consists of six squares of a foot each; but
a piece said to measure six fiet tquare would be six
feet along each side, and comprise thirty-six squares
of a foot each. Inattention to these distinctions has
often led to awkward errors and disputes.

The method of finding the superficial rontents of any
oblong surface, is to multiply the length Ty the breadth;
but other points require attention in the calculation.
To arrive at exactness, the inch ia reckoned to contain
12 seconds or parts, each second contains 12 thirds,
and each third containa 12 fourths. Feet multiplied
by feet, give feet; feet multiplied by inches, give inches;
feet multiplied by seconds, give seconds; inches multi-
plied by mches, give seconds; inches multiplied by
seconds, give thirds; and seconds multiplied by seconds,
give fourths. '

Rule for workine questions — 1. Write the multiplier
under the multiplicand, feet under feet, inches under
inches, seconds under seconds, &o. 2. Multiply each
denomination of the length by the feet of the breadth,
beginning at the lowest, and place each product under
that denomination of the multiplicand from which it
arises, always carrying 1 for every 12. 3. Multiply by
the inches, and set each product one place farther to
the right hand. 4. Multiply by the seconds or parts,
and set each product another place towards the right
hand. 5. Proceed in this manner with all the rest of
the denominations, and their sum will be the answer.

Example, — Multiply 6 feet 3 inches by S feet 2
inches. In working, we begin by multiply-
ing the 3 inches by 3, and then the 6 feet
also by the same .3 below it; this gives 18
feet 9 inches. This makes 18, 9. We now
multiply by the 2 inches, placing the 6 one
remove to a side. By then multiplying the
6 by 2, we have 12 inches or ! foot, and
setting doirit the one below the 18, we add
up. The answer is 1 9 feet 9 inches and 6 seconds. Ques-
tions of this kind may also be wrought by decimals.

To me^jure the solid contents of an object, a diffe-
rent process is pursued. Suppose we take a piece of
wood measuring a square foot, and cover it with dice,
each die an inch square and an inch high, the \ ood
will be covered with exactly 144 dice. Let \u now put
602

Ft.

In.

19 9 b'

a seeond layer of dice on th* flnt, and the numW will
be doubled, or 288 dice; and if w* thus go on adding
layer above layer till we hav* 12 layers, th* number
of dice will be finally 12 times 144, or 172t dice; in
other words, we shall have formed a cub* oonsisting of
1728 solid inches. Such is solid measure.

Solid measure is computed arithmetically, by multi-
plying the length by the breadth, and th* product by
the thickness. Civil engineers, who require to calcu-
late the solid contents of masses of earth, with a view
to excavation, resort to this simple rule; it is likewise
followed by builders in reftrenc* to
walls, plumbers toeist«ms,and other
artificers. The following is a ques-
tion not.unlikely to occur. Required
the contents of a cistern 9 yards 2
feet in length, 6 yards 2 feet in
breadth, and 4 yards 2 fe«t in depth.
Analyse th jse dimensions — 9 yards 2
feet are 29 feet ; 6 yards 2 feet are 20
feet. Multiply the 29 by 20, and then
multiply by 14 (14 feet being equal to 4 yards 2 feet);
next divide by 27, which is the number of solid feet in
a solid yard. The question is thus wrought in the
margin. The answer is seen to be 800 yards 20 feet.

Evolution.

The extraction or discovery of thv^ square and cube
roots of numbers, forms a department of arithmetic
called Evolution, and is useful in some kinds of mea-
surement. In the following table, the squares, cubes,
and fourth and fifth powers of th* nin* units ar* given.
The square of any number, it will be observed, is
gained by multiplying the number by itself; the cube,
by multiplying the square by the number; the biqua-
dratic by multiplying the cub* by the number; and
the sursolid by multiplying the biquadratic by the
number : —

_20

680

2320

580

27 )8120

300y.20f.

Root, or 1st power, ,

Square, or Sd power, .

Cube, or 3d powor, .

12S

216

343

fil2

729

Biquad., or 4th power.

62S

1296

3401

40»«

6561

Sursolid, or Stb power,

243

10S4

3128 ;n6 116807

32768

S9049

The powers of numbers are usually expressed by
adding a small figure to them; thus 3^ signifies the
second power or square of 3 — that is, 3 x 3 = 9; 3^ sig-
nifies the third power or cube of 3, or 3 x 3 x 3 = 27.
The small figure thus added is called an index or ex-
ponent, because it indicates or exposes to view the
powers of the quantity to which it is afiixed. The
square root of any small quantity may easily be ascer-
tained by means of the multiplication table; for in-
stance, 6 is at once seen to be the square root of 36,
because 6 x 6 = 36 ; but when laiger numbers occur,
it is requisite to have recourse to :<nother process.

Supposing it were required to find the length of the
side of a square which contains £9,049 square inches
on its surface, it is evident that it cannot at once occur
to th* mind what number, by being multiplied into
itself, produces this quantity. It is uierefore requisite
to find the square of one part of the numijier, and then
the square of the other part. To effect this, the whole
number is divided into parts, by a dot being placed
over each alternate figure, beginning at the unit. The
reason for thus separating it into periods of two figures
e&ch, is because the square of a Biagn fig-jre never
consists of more than two places, the square of a num-
ber of two flgtiros of not mora thui four places, &u.

After th* whole number has be«n thus divided, the

root whose square come* nearest to the first period

must be placed in thw quotient, and its square subtracted

from the first period. Thus 5 being the first period,

5g04d('243 ^' ^ ^^^i the root of 4, is placed

. ^ in the quotient, and the square of 2

^-— . (2 X 2 = 4) ia subtracted from 6, be-

^^)|20 cause 5 here forms the first period.

^<<' The next period (90) is then annexed

483)1449 to the remaindm for » new dividend.

1449 The root ii doublsd for a divisor, and

ABITHMBTIO.

6IJI

4096

K768

729

6Sfil

S9049

after tiearteinbg how ofUn it it oonUinad in the
dividend, omitting itf lut figure, the result (4) -s
placed both in the quotient and alio in the unit'* plitce
of the diTiior ; the whole number (44) thus formed,
muit be multiplied by 4, and the product muit be lub-
tracted from the dirldend. The aame proceu muit be
repeated until there ii no remainder, and the quotient
will contain the root lought, which in thii caae ii 243.
The rule for extracting the cube root ii equally tedioui,
and indeed almoit too complex for practical purpoiei.
The methods of extracting the rooti of higher powers
are so complicated, that they are usually omitted in
arithmetical works. The 4th, or biqupdratic root, may
be aMertained by extracting the square root twice,
because it is the square root of the square root. The
6th root is the square root of the cube root, or the cube
root of the square root.

The 8th root, being the square root of the biquad-
ratic root, may be found by extracting the square
root three times. In the same way, the 9th root may
be called the cube root of the cube root, and may be
found by extracting the cube root twice. But the
common arithmetical operations furnish no method of
obtaining the 5th, 7th, 10th, 18th, 14th, 16th, 17th,
19th, 20th, and most other roots; and this port of
arithmetic continued, therefore, iuTolved in practical
difficulties, until the inrention of logarithms.

LOOABITHMS.

Logarithms (from two Greek words, signifying the
number of the ratios or proportions) is a branch of
arithmetic of comparatiTely modem inTentiun, the dis-
coverer having been John Napier of Merchieto.i, near
Edinburgh, in the early part of the seventeenth ceutuiy.
The principles upon which logarithms are founded, may
perhaps be rendered familiar by the following illustra-
tion : — Supposing that 1 is the first term of a geome-
trical progression, and that the ratio or multiplier is
2, the terms stand in the following manner : —
1 is the first term.
8 ... ratio.

4 ... square of the ratio.
8 ... oubo of the ratio.
16 ... 4tli power of the ratio.
IS ... Sth power of the ratia
04 ... 6th power of the ratio.

All this might, however, have been conveyed
far more concisely by substituting signs for
words, thus ; —

It is ev'.dent that this might have been ex-
pressed still more concisely by omitting the
number signifying the ratio (2) throughout,
retaining only the indices or exponents, they alone be-
ing sufficient to indicate the degree of power to which
the i»t<.'. is raised in each term. Exponents th;ii placed
in order, opposite to a series of numoers in geometrical
profession, are, as we have said, called Logarithms,
or literally, number of the ratio.

The most tedious sums in multiplication can, by
means of logarithms, be solved simply by addition. For
instance, if it naie required to multiply 256 by 32, it
would merely be requisite to add the logarithms stand-
ing opposite to those two numbers — their sum (13)
stands opposite the product required, namely, 8192: —

1 .

.*»

3 .

. a'

4 .

.«>

8 .

.S3

16.

.s«

»i.

. S'

64 .

.s«

Num.

1*8.

Num.

Log.

1S8

286

SIS

10S4

S048 ...

4096

64 ...

8198

Agun, to multiply 128 by 16, we take the 7th 4* 4th, or
11th, power of 2, because 128 is the 7th and 16 the 4th
power of 2; opposite to the sum of 7 and 4 (11) is 2048,
equal to the result of the multiplication of the two
numbers. This also affords a quick and easy method of
dividing one number by another: thus if it be required
to divide 4096 by 16, it is only requisite to ascertain
the difference between the logarithm of these two num-
ben, whidi in thif cm« being 8, the figure opposite to

8 is the required quotient, indicating how often 16 il
contained in 4096— namely, 256 times.

The indices or exponents, 1, 2, 3, 4, ke. might, how-
ever, denote the powers of any other number or ratio.
Every different ratio or ^metrical progression gives
a different system of logarithms. Boon after the irvtn-
tion of logarithms by Lord Napier, it occurred to
Briggs, then professor of geometry at Oxford, that a
system whose base or ratio is 10 is preferable to all
others, on account of its being analogous to the general
method of notation. In a.d. IG24, Briggs published
the tables of logarithms which are now in common use.
In this system, 10 being the ratio or multiplier, the
terms may be thus exprwsed- -

1 10 100 1000 10,000, feo.
lO' 10^ 10« 10» 10* &o.

The exponents, 1, 2, 3, 4, are, as was shown in the
previous table, the logarithms of the opposite numbers,
and might therefore have been written thus —
1 10 100 1000 10,000, &c.
12 8 4 &0.

The logarithms of all intermediate numbers, such as
those between 1 and 10, 10 and 100, &c. are found by
ascertaining the geometrical mean proportions between
any two numbers, and likewise the corresponding arith-
metical means between the indices of those numbers.
In every system, is the logarithm of 1. Hence
the logarithm of any number between 1 and 10 must
be less than a whole number, and therefore a decimal
fraction ; and the logarithm of any number between 10
and 100 must be one with a fraction. In the same way,
the logarithm of any number between 100 and 1000
must be 2 and a fraction, and so on, thrcgh the rest of
the series. The integers, 0, 1, 2, 3, &c. to the left of
the dedmals in logarithms, are called the characteruiiet
of those logarithms. Thus is the characteristic of all
numbers between 1 and 10 ; 1 is the characteristic of
all between 10 and 100 ; 2 that of all between 100 and
1000, &c. In tables of logarithms the characteristics
are generally omitted. [For a complete and accurate
collection of Matbemaiiical Tables, the reader is re-
ferred to Chaheebs's EnuoATiCNAL Course.]

The method of using a table of logarithms is the fol-
lowing : — To ascertain, in the most common tables, the
logarithm of a number less than 10,000, it is merely
necessary to find the first three figures of the number
in the left-hand column, and the fourth figure in the
horizontal line at the tm ; then opposite to the former,
and under the latter, is the required logarithm. If
the eiven number consist of five figures, find, as before,
the logarithm belonging to the first four figures ; the
difference between it and the next logarithm may be
ascertained from the margin ; this difference is to be
multiplied by the fifth figure of the given number, and
one figure cut off from the right of the product ; and
the other figures of this product being added to the
preceding logarithm, and the index 3 prefixed, the
sum will be the required logarithm.

The process of finding the natural number of any
given logarithm is precisely the converse of that just
described. The given logarithm must be sought in the
table ; and against it, in the left-hand column, will be
found the natural number. It has already beea shown
that tables of logarithms afford an easy method of find-
ing the product in multiplication, and the quotients in
division, by means of simple addition and subtraction.
Logarithms are equally applicable to the solution of
questions in Proportion or the Rule of Three, it being
merely requisite to add the logarithms of the second
and third terms together, and from the sum to subtract
the logarithm of the first : the remainder is the loga-
rithm of the fourth term.

A number may, by means of logarithms, be raised
to any required power, by multiplying the logarithm
of the number by the index of the power. Thus to
square any number, multiply its logarithm by 2 ; to
cube a number, multiply its logarithm by 3 ; and so on.
To extract the root of any given number, the loga-
rithm of the number must be divided by the propoied

608

OHAMBSBCrS nrFOlOf AttOK ton THK PSOPLIS.

IndvX, and the quotlsnt is th« loguithm of (he required
i«ot. Thui to And the tquare root of 169, it ii Otiiy
neeesMrj to divide ite logarithm, which ii 3*2278867
by 2; oppoeite to the quotient will be found the num-
ber 18, which li the Muare root of 169, becauie
IS X IS ■■ 169. [To thoie who desire » thorough
kitowledge of Arithmetic, we refer to the complete
»nd acccMible trefttiee, by Mr Marr, published in
Chanders's Eoucationai. Couhsb,]

ALQEBRA.

We h*Te seen that logarithmic tablet may be uied

be divided, with a imall line between, in the form of A
fraction; thui i denotes that a is divided by b.

It has been shown in Arithmetic that the powers of
quantities are denoted by a small figure, called the
exponent or index of the power. Thus a x a, or the
SQuare of a, is expressed by a*; A x 6 x 6. or the cube
or b, is expressed by Ifl, jcc. The cube ot a -f 6, or
of (a + b) {a + b) is expressed thus : (a + b)*.

The roots of quantities are represented by the sign
Vi with the proper index aiBxed; thus <^a, or, mora
simply, V*i expr esses th e square root of a; \/a the
cube root of a; fs/a + b represents the 4th or biquad-

metic. It is evident that the value of all methods of
computation lies in their brevity. Algebra must be
considered as one of the most important departments
of mathematical science, on account of the extreme
rapidity and certainty with which it enables us to de-
termine the most involved and intricate questions. The
term algebra is of Arabic origin, and has a reference
to the resolution and composition of quantities. In the
manner in which it is applied, it embodies a method of
performing calculations by means of various signs and
abbreviations, which are used instead of wo^s and

Ehrases, so that it may be called the system of syro-
ols; Although it is a science of calculation, yet its
operations must not be confounded with those of arith-
metic. All calculations in arifhmetic refer to some
particular individual question, whereas those of algebra
refer to a whole class of questions. One great advan-
tage in algebra is, that all the steps of any particular
course of reasoning are, by means of symbols, placed
at once before the eye ; so that the mind, being unim-
peded in its operations, proceeds uninterruptedly from
one step of reasoning to another, until the solution of
the question is attained.

Symbols are used to represent not only the known,
but also the unknown quantities. The present custom
is to represent all known quantities by the first letters
of the alphabet, as a, b, e, &c. and the unknown quan-
tities by the last letters, x, y, z.

The symbols used in arithmetic to denote addition,
subtraction, &c. belong properly to algebra. Thus
the sign + plu», denotes that one quantity is to be
added to another, and is called the positive or addi-
tive sign ; all number' to which it is prefixed are
called poiitive. The sign — minus, denotes that one
quantity is to be subtracted from another; it is called
the negative or subtractive sign, and all quantities to
which it is prefixed are called negative. If neither -I-
uor — be prefixed to a quantity, then the sign •¥ plus
is understood.

The general sign to denote that one number is to be
multiplied by another, is x ; but it often occurs that
one letter has to be multiplied by another, and this is
represented by placing those letters one after the other,
generally according to the order in which they stand in
the alphabet ; thus a multiplied by b, is expressed by
ab. The multiplication of quantities consisting of more
than one term, as for instance a + bhy o + d, may be
repres ented by an y one o f the f ollowing methods ;

a + b yc c + d, Ota + b.c + d, or (a + b) (c + d).
The bar drawn over a + b and e + d, which in the
two first examples marks them as distinct quantities, is
called a vinculum, but brackets or parentheses, as in
the last example, are now in more frequent use.

When a letter is multiplied by any given number, it
is usual to prefix that number to the letter. Thus
twice a, three times b, four times e, six times x, &c.
are expressed thu.i : 2a, 3i, 4o, 6x ; and the numbers
2, 3, 4, 6, thus prefixed, are called the coeffieienU of the
letters before which they stand.

The sign -i- between two numbers shows, as in
arithmetic, that the former of those numbers is to be
divided by the latter ; thus a -i- b, means that a is to
be divided by b. It is, however, more usual to place
the number to be divided above that by which it it to j
ClOi

as a substitute for many lengthened operations in arith- ratio root of a -f A. Fractional indices are also fre

quently used to denote the roots of quantities, thus:

ai is the square root of a.

at is the cube root of a.

a^ is the 4th root of a, &o.

Again, al is the cube root of a>, or of the square of a.

a> is the square root of a', or of the cube of a.

a> is the 5th root of a'.

When two or more letters or quantities are con-
nected together by signs, the combination is called an
algebraic expression, and each letter or quantity is
called a term.

Quantities of one term are called simple quantities;
as<i, 2a, 3A, &c.

A quantity of two terms, as &-I- c, is called a binomial.

When a binomial expresses the difierence between
two quantities, it is called a retidual, as a — b.

A quantity consisting of 3, 4, or many terms, are
called respectively trinomial*, guadrinomiaU, mutlitto-
miala.

The sign s placed between two quantities shows, as
in arithmetic, the equality of those quantities.

When quantities are connected by this sign, the ex-
preMion is called an equation : thus, 2 + 4 k 6, is an
equation ; as also, a + o ^e — /.

The symbol ^7^ ar .^ is called that of inequaUtif, it
being placed between two quantities, of which one is
greater than another; the open part of the symbol is
always turned towards the greater quantity: thus,
a Z^ b denotes a to be greater than b ; and c „^ d
denotes d to be greater than c. The sign of difierence
is ~, only used when it is uncertain which of two
quantities is the greater; thus, e '*' /denotes the dif-
ference between e and / when it is uncertain which is
the greater.

The word therefore, or eonaequentlf/, often occurring
in algebraical reasoning, the symbol .'. has been chosen
to represent it : thus the sentence, * Therefore a+ b
is equal to c + d,' is thus expressed in algebra,
.'. a + b Bt e + d.

Like quantities are such as consist of the same letter
or letters, or powers of letters : thus, 6 a and 2 a are
like quantities, and alK' 4 abe and 9 abc. Unlike quan-
tities are such as consist of difierent letters; as, 4a,
5 b, 6 ax*, 4od, which are all unlike quantities.

Addition.

The operation of addition in arithmetic consists, as has
be jn shown, simply in joining or adding several quanti-
I 'es together : thus, 4-f8+7-t-6sE25. This same
process is always used in algebra, whenever like quan-
tities with likii signs are required to be added: thus,
2«+3a4-6a=:lla;and — 7 6— 44— 66»=— 176.
But as it often happens that like quantities which are
to be added together have unlike signs, addition has in
algebra a far more extended signification than in arith-
metic. Thus to add 7a + 4ato8a — 3 a, it is evi-
dent that, after 7a+ ia+ Ha have been added accord-
ing to thu usual method, 3 a must be subtracted. Hence
the general rule for the addition of like quantities
with unlike si^ns is to add first the coefficients of the
positive termsl and then to add those of the negative
terou; the leia sum muit be 'rubtncted ficoia the

ALGEBRA.

greatAT, and io thii difference the lign of the greater
muit be annexed, with the common letter or Ir Ueri.

Thui let it be required to add 7 a — ia+ia+6a —
6a — 2a and 9a; 25a will be found the sum of the
poiitive termi, and 1 1 a that of the negatiTe; 11a being
the leu number, must therefore ba subtracted from
25 a, the greater, leaving a remainder of 14 a, which i«
the required amount. The leaaon of thia mode of pro-
cedure may be shown by a aimple illuitration : — Ai a
letter may represent any quantity, let a repreient £6 ;
and luppoM that a gentleman '"» in one bank 7 a, or
■eTcn five poundt; in another *- . 4 o, and in another
a, or nine five pound* : let us suppose, too, that his
tailor's bill is 6 a, or six five pounds ; his baker's 3 a,
or three five pounds ; and his butcher's 2 a, or two
fire pounds ; it is evident'that, to ascertain how much
money is really his own, he must first compute the
whole value of his property disponed in the different
banks, then the amount of the bills of his creditors,
and then find the difference between the two sums by
subtracting the less from the greater. When the
aggreeate of the positive terms is equal to that of the
negative ones, the sum of the two quantities will be
equal to : thus, if a man possesses ^£2000, and owes
£2000, it is evident that when his debts have been de-
ducted from his property, nothing will remain. Unlike
quantities can only be added by collecting them in one
line, and prefixing the proper sign of each ; thus the
sum of 3a-i-26-l-4o — '2d can only be rendered
3a-t-25 + 4o — 2d; this will be evident by reflecting
that different letters in the same algebraical expression
always represent different quantities, which cannot of
course be added into one sura unless their precise
value be known. Thus the addition of a and 6 can-
not be represented by 2 a or 2 6, because that would
imply that a is equal to 6, which it is not necessarily ;
neither could it be represented by ab, because ab de-
notes the multiplication of the two quantities; the onlr
method, then, of expressing these sums is thus, a + b
When like and unlike quantities are mixed together,
as in the following example, the like quantities must
first be collected together according to the method
above described, and all unlike quantities raust be
annexed in order : —

9 a + buy — % ay

— Oay —

10 X

2xy

3* —

7 ay

—

&ax —

6 ax

11 y

— xy —

Oax

2ay +

12a

—

— lOy —

3;cj^

13 av

3c — 8a» — 6 ry + y

Subtraction.

When two like quantities, having like signs, are to
be subtracted the one from the other, the process is
precisely the same as that already described in Arith-
metic : thus, 3 a subtracted from 7 a, kaves as a re-
mainder 4 a. From 8 a -|- 5 a take 6 a -|- 2 a, and the
remainder will be 2 a + 3 a, or 5 a.

But supposing it were required to subtract 6 a — 4 a
from 9 a, it is evident that some other process must be
adopted ; because if 6 a be subtracted from 9 a, the
proposed operation will not be performed ; for it is not
6 a, but 6 a — 4 a, that is, 2 a, which in required to be
subtracted from 9 a,' 6 a subtracted from 9 a leaves 3 a,
which is 4 a lest than would result from subtracting
2 a from 9 a; but if to 3 a vre add the other term —
namely, 4 a — the sum will be the remainder sought,
because 3a + 4 astj a; and if 2 a be subtracted from
9 a, which is just the same question in another form,
for 6 a — 4 a is a> 2 a, the remainder is just 7 a, as
before. So if a — 5 is to be subtracted from c, the
remainder would be c — a + b, and for the same rea-
son. It may therefore be given as a general rule,
that all the signs of a quantity which is required to
be subtracted from another, must be changed : thus
when 4 x — 3 y is subtracted from 7 a -I- 5 o, the re-
mainder ia written thus, 7 a + 5 b — ix+ 3y.

When like quantities ar« to be robtraeted from each
other, it is usual to place them in two rows, the on*
above the other ; the signs of the quantities to be sub-
tracted must, for the reason above adduced, b« con-
ceived to be changed ; and the several quantities most
be added, as shown in the following examples :■—
From 6a» + 7 ary — 2y
Tak« 3 y + 8a*— 6 ay
Remainder, 2ax + IS gy — 5 jr

MultlpUoatlon.

The multiplication of two quantities is performed
by multiplying, as in arithmetic, the coefficients of the
quantities, and then prefixing the proper sicn and
annexing letters : thus the pn^uct of 3 a, multiplied
by 5 6, is 15 oA, and 7 a x 4 a6 » 28 a*b.

When the signs of both quantities are alike, the sign
+ is to be prefixed; but when unlike, the sign — muik
be prefixed, which may be thus shown at one Tiew : —

1. + multiplied by -f- produces +

2. — multiplied by — produces +
8. + multiplied by — produces —
4. — multiplied by + produces —

Hence the technical rule generally given is, that ' like
numbers produce p/iM -fiand unlike produce minus — .*
This, however, is not perfectly true when more than two
quantities are to be successively multiplibd ; because,
although the product of an even numoer of negative
quantities is positive, yet the product of an odd num-
ber of negative quantities is always negative ; thus,

— a X — b X — d"» — abd
and — a x — b x — d x — e™ abde
When the same letter occurs in both quantities, the
indices must be added ; thus, a^^ x a* = aaaaa sa'>.
In the multiplication of compound quantities, it is usual
to commence from the left-hand figure ; the multipli-
cation, for instance, of 8 a6 — 4 ao -t- « by 2 a, is tnui
performed : —

S ab — i ae + It

2 a

16 a*b~ 8 a*c + 2 ax
To multiply two compound quantities, each term of
the one must, as in arithmetic, be multiplied by each
terra of the othei ; these particular or partial products
must be added according to the rules of addition, and
their sum will give the whole product, as shown in tho
following instance : —

Multiply3a-»- 8£ <

By a — b

Sa^+Bab

— Sab — Ob'^ ,

Product, 3 o" -»- 5 aft — 8 6»

DWiRlon.
The operations of division being in algelA, aa in
arithmetic, merely the converse of those of multiplica-
tion, the same rules respecting signs apply in Doth.
Thus, 6 a6*, divided by 2 6, is equu to 3 ab.

And — 8 fte" -7- 4 ar, or = — 2 c*

4 X

In division, all letters common to both quantities must
be omitted in the quotient ; and when the same letters
occur in both with different indices, the index of the
letter in the divisor must be subtracted from that in
the dividend ; thus,

o4* -^ ab, or ^—=-= * ; and
ao

Sa»^2a»,or|i!^, = 3a»
2 a*

When the exponent of any letter in the divisor ex-
ceeds that of the same letter in the dividend, the latter
exponent mt'st be subtracted from the former, and the
quotient will be in the form of a fraction ; thus,

— 12 oV -r- 8 aifi B

nwfi

2*»

OHAMBDUrS niFOBIIATIOV FOB THB PBOPLl.

Whan tha nnmbar to b* dlWdad U m oomponnd
quantity, and tha diriior a aimpla ona, than aaoh tann
of the diTidand muit b« divided aaparateljr, and tha
raiult will be the aofwer; thus,

6iL±2iil!*+i.!!i±iif£- 3 + 12 i + 4 a + fl «

When the diTiior and diridend are both compound
quantitie*, the rulo ia tha same aa that of long diviaion
in arithmetic. When there it a remainder, it muit be
made the numerator of a fraction, under which the
divisor must be put aa tha denominator; this fraction
must then be placed in the quotient, aa in arithmetic.
The compound quantities must, however, be previously
arranged in a particular way — namely, according to
tha deaoending powers of some letter, aa of & in the foK
lowing example: and this letijr is called the hading
quantity. Tlie following is an example of the division
of compound quantities : —

4_a;) 6»— 3 6i* + 3 te2— «» (i» — a to + •»

• —2 ti>x + S ba^

* &*»—*»

6*« — a-i

Fraotloni.

Tue rules regulating the management of fractions in
algebra are similar to those in arithmetic.

A mixiMi quantity is reduced to a fraction by raulti'
plvinir i'ae wnole or integral part by the denominator
of 'he fraction, and annexing the numerator with its
proper sign to the product; thu former denominator, if
placed under this sum, will give the required fraction.

Thus the mixed quantity 2x+-—- may be thus re^

duced to a fraction : 2 x x 6 « b 12 ej^, and as ^ ab must
be added to form the numerator, and the former deno-
minator be retained, the required fraction is the follow-
ing : "^ "*" — —• An operation exactly the reverse

of this would of coi'rse be requisite were it proposed to
reduce a fraction to a mixed quantity. Thus the frac-
tion s in»y be reduced to a mixed number

by dividing the numerator by the denominator ; the
numerator of the fractional part must be formed by
that term which is not divisible without a remainder;
the following is therefore the required mixed quantity:

2 X + —r—- A fraction is reduced to its lowest terms,

in algebra as in arithmetic, by dividing the numerator
and denominator by any quantity capable of dividing
them both without leaving a remainder. Thus in the
10 o* + 20 aft + 5 a? .. . . . .... ..

imciion 35-55 ' >' »• etident that the

coeffeient of every term can be divided by 5, and as
the letter a enters into every term, 6 a may be called
the greatest common measure of this fraction, becaase
it can divide both the numerator and the denominator.
The numerator (10 o3 -H 20 aft + 5 a') -r- 5 o = 2 o»
■4- 4b + a', and the denominator, 36 o* -=- 5 a ■= 7 a •

. 2a* + 4b+a
hence the fraction, in its lowest terms, is ^-^ •

Sometimes the greatest common measure of two quan-
tities is not so obvious as in the example just adduced,
in which case recourse must be had to the following
operation :— The quantity, the exponent of whose lead-
ing letter in the first terra is not less than that in the
other, must first be divided by the other; the divisor
must then be divided by the remainder; each suc-
cessive remainder is made the divisor of the last
divisor, until nothing remains; when the divisor last
used will be the greatest common measure. Quan-
titie* which have no common measure or divisor ex-
cept 1, are called iiteommtiuuraiU : thus 7, 5, 3,
Mid 11, >ve incommensurable quantities, and are also
606

mU to b« prtmt to aaeh other. Whtn iVaetiont
aro roquired either to be added or to be subtracted,
they must nooeasarily be first reduced to a common
denominator, which is effected by multiplying each
numerator by every denominator but its own, to pro-
duce new numerators, and all the denominators together
for the common denominators. The new numerators
can then be either added or subtracted according as
the case may require, and the new denominator must
be left unchanged. Multiplication of fractions is p*r<
formed by multiplying all tha numerators together for
a new numerator, and their denominators together for
a new denominator: it is then usual to reduce the rr-
sultinif fraction to its lowest terms. Division of frac.
tiona IS affisoted by multiplying the dividend by the
reciprocal of the divisor. Toe reciprocal of any quan.
tity is unity, or 1 divided by that quantity, or simply

that quantity inverted : thus the reciprocal of a or -7
is -> and the reciprocal of -7 ia - ; therefore to divide

... 8a» . 4a

a fraction as -jp- by -7-

• the dividend

8 a*

must

4 a S

be multiplied by the reciprocal of — r-» which is— ;

4o'

> -T^— ; thiilMt frAciion, dWided

10 a

therefore -r- x 7— ■
4 4a

by its greatest common measure 8 a, is the fraction re-
quired — namely, -5-.

Involatlon nnd Kvolntlon.

The raising of a quantity to any required power is
called involution, and is performed by multiplving the
quantity into itself as often as is indicated by the given
power. When the quantity has no index, it is only
necessary to place the given nower above it, in order
merely to indicate the power : thus the fourth power of a
is a*, and the cube or 3d power of a -f- 6 is (a -|- 6)3.

When the quantity has an index, that index must bo

multiplied by the given power : thus the 4th power of

a> is €fi, because 2 x 4 « 8. If the quantity required

to be raised b« a fraction, both the numerator and the

denominator must be multiplied by the given power :

a> a*
thus the square of -g is -^. When the sign of the

quantity is +, then all the powers to which it can be
raised must be + ; if — , then all the even powers will
be 4-, and all the odd powers — . Thus x x x =>x^;
— a X — o» + a"; — a x — ax — aai—a\

A compound quantity — that is, one consisting of
more than one terra — is raised to any giver, power by
multiplying it into itself the nuraber of ti'oes denoted
bv the power. This is done according te the method
already described in multiplication. Thus the square
of a: + 4 y, is thus found : —

Multiply X + 4y
By X + 4y

x^ + 4xy .

4xy+ lCiK»
Square — i^ -f- 8 ay -H 16^

The operations of evolution are the reverse of those
of int-^lution, being designed to discover the square
root, cube root, &c. of any given quantity, rhe roots
of numerical coefficients are found as in arit hmetic :
thus the square root of 49 o^, is / a, because 7 x 7 ■■ 49.
The index of the given quantitv must be divided by 2
for the square root, by 3 for the «ube root, by 4 for
the 4th root, &o. : thus the cube root of (fi is a'.

The square root of compound quantities may be
extracted by a method very similar to that described
in arithmetic, and of which an example was there
given. The cube root may likewise be extracted by a
simil»r process.

Irrational Quantities, or Surds.
Some numbers have no exact root; for instance, no.

ALOEBHA.

muit

Bumber muUipItad into Uielf can prodnea 5. Th«
not* of luch quantitiei ara expreuad by frMtional
iadicai, or bv the sign \J, which ii c»llad tha radical
lifn, from tha Latin radi'or, a root i thui tha iquare
root of 6, and tho cuba root of (a + b)', may ba ax-
preiiad aithar by >^6, \/ (a +&)*, or by 8*, (a + b)*.

Tha approximate ralue of luch quantitiei can ba
Mcurtaiued to any required degree of i- i.tneM by tha
oommok. rulei for extractinj; rooti: thui the tquara
root of 3 ii 1 and an iMdofinita number of deciraalt ;
but ai tha exact value can uarar be determined, the
name of irrational ii given to luoh ouaiititiei, to dii-
tinguiih them from all numbera whatever, whether
whole or fractional, of which tha value can be found,
and which are therefore termed rational. Irrational
numbers are generally called lurds, from the Latin
nrdut, deaf or lenBeleii.

Equatioga,

When two quantities are equal to each other, the
algebraical azpreHion denoting their equality ii called
an 0quation. Thui x — 2^4 + 3 io an equation,
denoting that if 2 ba deducted from lomj unknown
quantity reprasantad by x, the remainder will be equal
to 4+3, that it, to 7; therefore tha value of x in
thii aquation is evidently 7 + 2, or 0.

Tho doctrine cf equations constitutes bv far the most
important part of algebra, it being one of the principal
objects of mathematics to reduce all questions to the
form of equations, and then to ascertain the value of
the unknown quantities by means of their relations to
other quantities of which the value is known.

Many problems, which are now quickly and readily
determined by being reduced to equations, used for-
merly to be solved by tedious and intricate arithmetical
rules; and they may still be found in old treatises on
arithmetic, arranged under the t.tlea of Double and
Single Position, Falsa Position, Alligation, &c. Equa-
t:'ns receive different names, according to the hijzhest
po ver of the unknown quantities contained in them.
An equation is said to be simple, or of the Jir»t degree,
when it contains only the first power of the unknown
quantity: thus a; + A as 35 a — 2 is a simple equation,
lae unknown quantity being represented by x, as it
generally is in other equations, and the known quanti-
ties by the other letters and figures, a^+ 4 = 8 a, is
a quadratio equation, because x, the unknown quantity,
is raised to the second power.

:ifi ama + S bia a c%toio equation, the unknown quan>
tity being raised to tha third power,

x* — a a 25 is a biquadratic equation, because
X is raised to the 4th power. If equations contain
unknown quantities raised to tha 5tb, 6th, or higher
powers, they are denominated accordingly.

The quantities of which an equation is composed,
are called its terms ; and the parts that stand on the
right and left of tha sign ■=, are called the members
or aides of the equation.

When it is desired to determine any auestion that
may arise respecting the value of some unknown quan-
tity by means of an equation, two distinct steps or
operations are requisite; the first step consists in trans-
lating the question from the colloquial language of
common life into the peculiar analytical language of
the science. The second step consists in finding, by
given rules, tha answer to the question, or in other
words, the solution of the equation. Expertness and
facility in performing the former operation cannot be
produced by any set of rules; in this, as in many other
processes, practice if tha best teacher. Every new
question requires a new prjcess of reasoning; the con-
ditions of the question must be well considered, and all
the operations, whether of addition, subtraction, &c.,
which are required to be performed on the quantities
which it contains, are to ba represented by the alge-
braic signs of -f , — , &c. : tha whole problem must ba
written down as if these operations had been already
performed, and as if the unknown quantities were dis-
covered, which can be dona very britfiy by subatitating

tha first letters of tho alphabet for the known niiaii-
titles, and the last letters for the unknown, prenxiiitf
to each the signs of addition, multiplication, &c. which
may be denoted in the question. Thus suppose a farmer
wished to divide £\, 15t. between his two sons, allowing
9s, mora to tha alder than to tha younger, what would
each receive 1 To express this question in algebraic
language, tha share of tha younger son may be repre-
sented by «, and then that of tha alder son will be « + 0.
The steps of reasoning by whicJi this question may ba
solved, are tha following ; — The share of tha elder -f
the share of tha younger it £1, Ifis., equal to 8Ai.;
therefore x + 9 + x mm Si, or 2 « + 9 -■ 35 .'. 2 x

— 35 — 9, or 2 « ai 26 .'. x (share of the younger son)
20

:■ — szl3, and x + 9 (the share of the elder son),

- 13 -I- 9 » 22.

The second operation in determining a question
may be said to consist in contrivances to get x, or
the unknown quantity, to stand alone on one side of
the equation, without destroying the equality or ba-
lance between the two sides ; because in such an equa-
tion, for instance, as the following, x » 4 -f- 2, the value
of X is at once seen ; if 6 were to be put in the place of
X, the equation would be said to be fulfilled, because
then it would stand thus, 6 «■ 6; therefore 6 is tha root
or solution of the equation, oi = 4 + 2. In some ques-
tions, the unknown quantity is so much involved with
known quantities, that it ib often a difllcult, although
always a highly - interesting process, to separate it
from them. Many rules for efl'ecting this are given
in most algebraical treatises, but they may all be com-
prised in one general observation — namely, that any
operation, whether of addition, subtraction, &c. may
be performed on one side of an equation, provided only
that the very same operation be performed on tha
other side, so as not to destroy their equality. Thus
in tho equation « -|- 5 n 12, it is evident that if 5
could be removed from tho left to the right side of the
equation, x would stand alone, and its value at once
be ascertained; it having been already stated that any
oj)eration may bo performed on one side of the equa-
tion, provided only the same operation be performed
on the other, it follows that 5 may be subtracted from
the left side, if subtracted likewise from the right;
therefore a;-t-5 — S=al2 — 6; but 5 — 6 being
equal to 0, the equation would more properly be ex-
pressed thus, x= 12 — 5; that is to say, the value of
a; is 7. Again, in the equation x — 10 as 27, add 10
to each side of tha equation ; then x — 10+ 10b 27
+ 10 ; but — 10 + 10 = ; therefore a; = 27 + 10.
When the same quantity is thus subtracted from both
sides of an equation, or added to both sides, the opera-
tion is technically, though perhaps incorrectly, termed
' transposing quantities from one side of an equation
to the other.'

The reason why the same operation performed upon
both sides of an equation does not alter their equality,
is simply because ' if equal quantities ba added to, or
subtracted from, equal quantities, tha value of the
quantities will still be equal.' To illustrate thia— aup-
posing a wine-merchant nas 2 casks cf wine, each cask
containing 36 gallons, it is evident that if he draws off
the same number of gallons from each cask, the quan-
tity of gallons remaining in each cask will stil) be
equal ; so, if he were to replace the same number of
gallons of wine in each cask, the number of gallons
contained in each would still ba equal to each other.
For the same reason, if the two sides of an equation
were either multiplied or divided by the same number,
their equality to each other would still remain : in the
equation 3 x =s 27, the value of x may be discovered by
dividing both sides of the equation by its coefBciant 3;

,, 3a! 27 . .3a! .27 „ .

thus -— XB— ; but-5- = ar, and -r- = 9j .*. a! :

o «5 9 u

9. In

the same way, if the unknown quantity in an equation is
required to be divided by some known quantity, each
side of the equation may be multiplied br tha divisor.

607

OHAMBIlim nnOBMATIOV FOR TBI PEOPUL

Thut in tht equation ^ m 33, If

pliad br 4, th* rMult will be jr « 93 x 4 - I'M. Thia
U technicftlljr mlled ale»riag mi equation of fraetiou.

On Unpin Eqiuttbnu CunUlnloR two or nior* I'nknowa

(tiwntllkM.

It luajr be given u a general rule, ibat when a qaea>
tiou arieei aa to the value of two or more unknown
quautitiae, each of thaie quantitiea muei be repreeented
hy one of the latt letters of the alphabet, and ae many
aeparate equationi tnuit be deduced from the queatiou
ae there are unknown quantitiet. A group of equa-
tion* of thia kind ia called a jy«((M </ nmiUUmmmM
equatiotu.

If it be required to aolre a ajratem of two aiaiple
equationi, containing two unknown quantitiea, the waat
natural method aeema to be to determine flrtt the *»Um
of one of the unknown quantitiea by nieana of both the
equationa. Then aa ' thinga which are equal to the
aauie thing are equal to each other,' it foUowa that the
two aeta of numbera or lettera in tLe two equations,
which have been aacertained to be equal to the value
of 0-, will alao be equal to each other, and may be re-
duced to an equation, which will contain only one
unknown quantity. Thia proceaa ia technically called
eUmiiatiim. Let it, for inatance, be required to find the
length of two planks of wood : the length of both planka
together ia 20 feet, and one plank ia U feet longer than
the other plank. Thia ia evidently a question involving
two unknown quantities — namely, the length of eaoh of
the two planks of wood. To translate this question
into algebraical language, call the longer plank x, and
the shorter plank y, then the facts above-mentioned
may be thus stated : j; -f y » 20, and x — y » 8. The
vnlue of X may be ascertained by means of both the
c({uationa in the following maimer : —

The first equation gives x ma '20 — y
And the second, xtm B + y

The two values of x, thus aacertained, must form a new
equation, thus : —

20 —.V - 8 4- y
20«8-»-Jy

8o that it ia evident from thia laat equation, that 9«

ia equal to 12, because 20 — 8 k 12 ; therefore jf mti,

and 20 — 6 ae 14. The length of both the planka ia

thua aacertained, the longer being 14 feet in length and

the ahorter b' feet.

This problem is not only given aa an ezamplvof

dlmnation, but also aa an illustration of the general

thnpap^Jha* * the greater of two numbera ia equal to

half tFeir sum, plutnalt their difference ; and that 'he

less number is equal to half the sum, minut hall tlM

difl'erence.' Thus the above question Hiight have been

solved in the following manner : —

'0.8 ,, .20 8 ^
^ + --I4,andj — .y=-6

The following is the method of lieoaonetrattng this
curious theorem al^braically :— Let « »n4 ft be any
two numbers of which a ia the greaMc . iumI let their
■urn be repreeented by *, and their diHervnc* ky d ;
Then a + bm,»
and a — b=md

2 a 3- a -f <l

and

Alao

m aa

26.

-d

and

A»

M
o'

Quadratio EqnatiuBn.
A quadratic e(|uatiott liter«>% means a tquared equa-
tion, the term being derived i^un the Latin qmidraliu,
squared ; a quadratic equation , therefore, ia merely on
equation in which the unknown quantity ia aqoMvd or
nuaed to the second power. Quadratic equations are
often called equations of two dimensions, or of the second

baeauae all equations are claaaed according to
ks of the higheat power of the unknown quan-
Mutainad in tiiein.
There are two kinda of quadratic equationa— namely,

naad adfected. Pun uuadratle equationa are those
hich the firat power or the unknown quantity doee
not appear : there ia not the leaat diftculty in solving
aiieh equationa, becauae all that ia requiaite is, to ob-
tain the value of the a<|uare according to the rules for
••Iving simple equations, and then, by extvactiiig the
•quare root of both sides of the equation, to ascertain
the value of the unknown quantity. For instance, let
it be required to find the value of x in the equation
«> -f 4 K 29. Dv deducting 4 from each side of the
equation, the value of x^ is at once seen to be as fol-
lows : «< -i 20 — 4 -I 25 ; the square root of both
sides of this equation will evidently give the value of
X, thus « ■■ V 25 <m 5. Ad^tcttd or affected quadratic
equationa are auch aa contain not only the i<|uare, but
alao the firat power of the unknown (|uaiitities.

There are two methoda of aolving quadratic equa-
tiona ; we are indebted to the llindooa lor one of these
methoda, of which a full account ia given in a very
ouriouf Hindoo work entitled ' Dija Uanita.' The other
method was discovered by the early Italian algebraists.
The principle upon which both methods are founded is
the following : — It is evident that in an adfected equa-
tion, OS, for instance, at' -^ bxim d, the first member,
<u9 -f- lut, is not a complete square ; it is, however,
necessary for the solution of the equation that the first
side should be so modified as to l>e made a complete
square, and that, by corres})onding additions, multipli-
cations, &c. the equality ot the second side should not
be lost ; then by extracting the square root of each
side, the equation will be reduced to one of the first
degrM, which may be solved by the common procosa.

TIm followinj^ illuatration from Dridge will i>erhaiis
tend more to aimplify the aubject, and ahow ita prac-
tical utility, than any mere abstract rules which might
be advanced. A person bought cloth for £33, 15a.,
which he sold again at £2, 8s. per piece, and gained by
the tergain as much aa one piuco cost him. Hequircil
the number of pieces,

Lflxai the number of pieces, £33, 15s. x 20a 675;
675
tbeflfore -— a the number of shillinga each piece

coat| and 48 x ia equal to the number of ahillinga for

whidi he aold the whole, because £'2, 8b. or 48 shillingti

«M the price he obtained for each piece. Thereforu

48 X — b'75 was what he gained by the bargain.

675
Hence, by the question, 48 * — 676 =» — . Thii

equation, after having been submitted to the usual
operations of transposition and division which have
been already described, awumes the form of
._225 225

16 * " 16 •
The D*«t step ia to complete the square; thia ia done
by addibg to each side of the equation the m^uare of
half the coefficient of the second term.

a _ '-•■25 /225 k « 225 50625 65025

■^ 16 "^ \ 32 / 16 "^ 1024 ~ 1024 '
then extracting the square root,

225 225 _, 480 ,,
'-■32-irj*"'*'-32--**-
Therefore 15 piecea of cloth waa the quantity aold.

It ia often requiaite, for the more eaay solution of
equations, to change them into other equations of u
difierent fonn, but of equal value; and tlus ia techni-
cally termed Transfonnation. Our limits will not per-
mit us to enter on any explanation of this rule, or uf
the rules farther advanced in the acience, as P«nnutA-
tions. Undetermined Coefficients, Binomial Tiieorem,
Ksponential Equations, &c. To thou* who desire to
poa a euu a more extenaive knowled^ of Algebra, we refer
to thf complete and occeasible sreatise of .Mr Bell, in
Cmamveiis's Eovcational Coirsc

GEOMETRY.

65025
1024 '

rHoNRRT (frnm two Dreek wordi tij^nlfyln^ the earth
Biid to meature) ii that braiiiih of inatliFiiiKtical icieiica
which U devoted to the coiidderntion of fomi and lize,
•lid iiiity therefore be lai'l to b« the beit Mid lureit
guide to the itudy of all iciencei In which idcM of dinien-
lion ur apace are involved. Alniott all the knowledge
required by navigatori, architect!, lurvoyori, eiif^ineeri,
and opticiaiii, in their reipeotive occuiiationi, ii de-
duced from geometry and other braiicnei uf matho-
niatici. All worki of art are conitructed according to
the rulei which geometry involvet ; and wo find the
Mine lawi oliierved in the worki of nature. The itudy
of iiiatheinutici, generally, ii alio of great tinportanco
in cultiTating hablti uf exact reatoning; and in thit
rctpcct it furmi a uieful auxiliary to logic. A« will
be obierved even from the abort aketch which we are
able to preaent, the itepa of reaaoniiig from given and
exact premiiea are clear and undeniable, and the re-
aulta antiafactory. All aubjecta, it ii true, are not aui-
ceptiblo of being brought to the teat of mathematical
nnalyaia; but to one acouainted with the proceai, no
fantaatic apeculationi or iooae pointa in anv argument
will be accepted aa proved trutha, or paiied over with-
out an attempt at refutation, ' The atudent of mathe-
iiiatica,' aaya I)r Whewell, ' ia occuatoined to a chain of
deduction, where each link hangi upon the preceding;
and thua he leanit continuity of attention and cohe-
rency of thought. Mil notice ii ateadily fixed upon
thoie circumatancea only in the aubject on which the
demonatrativeneu dependa; and thua that mixture of
varioua groundi of conviction, which ii ao common in
other men'i niinda, ia rigoroualy excluded from hia.
lie knowa that all dependa upon hia firat principlea,
and flowa inevitably from them ; that however far he
iiiav have travelled, he can at will go over any portion
of nia path, and aatiafy himaelf that it ia legitimate;
and thua he acquirea a juat perauoaiou of the import-
ance of principlea on the one hand, and on the other
of the neceaaary and constant identity of the conclu-
liona legitimately deilu.vl Ihiin them.'

It haa been frc i.iiy asserted, tnough apparently
with little truth, ttiAt ^'eoinetry was firat cultivated in
Kgypt, in r*<(i vitor to the lueuaurement of thn land.
Tlialea uf Mt mMi<i. 'm lived about MO ii.c, ii among
the first con-<Mmiii«^ ivliose attainments in math'Smatical
knowledge *« b* v any authentic inforiuatiuo. About
two c«u(ttri«N Ucer, the Platonic school was founded,
which x-vent is one of the moat memorable epochs in
the hiMory of geometry. Its founder, Plato, made
severtkl important discoveries in mathematics, which he
considered the chief of sciences. A celebrated school,
iu which great improvement was made in geometry,
waa established about 300 b. c. To this achool the cele-
brated Euclid belonged. After this period geometri
cal science, like all general knowledge, gradually de-
clined; and such continued to be the case until about a
century after, when it revived among the Arabians.

About the beginning of the fifteenth century geo-
metry, as well as all other departments of knowledge,
became more generally cultivated. In modern times,
Kepler, Galileo, Taoquet, Pascal, Descartes, Huygens
of Holland, our own Newton, Maclaurin, Lagrange,
and many others, have enlarged the bounds of mathe-
matical science, and have brought it to bear upon sub-
jects which, in former ages, were considered to be
beyond the grasp of the human mind.

As improved by the labours of mathematicians, geo-
metrical science now includes the following leading de-
partments : — Plane Oeometry, the basis of which is the
Six Books of Euclid's Elements; Solid and Spherical
Qevmetry, Spherical Trigonometry, the Projections
of the Sphere, Perpendicular Projection, Linear Per-
No. 89,

spective, and Conk) flections, Hut tn theie main
branches of the acience there are added Practical
Mathematica, which may be defined aa an elaboration
of the abstract doctrinua and rules «f general iimthe-
matici in application to many iiiattcra of a practical
nature in the buiineaaof life. For example, aniong the
braiichea of Practical Mathematica we find Practical
Oenmetry, Trigonometry, Meaaurcment of llni».'hti and
Diatancea, Levelling, Menauration of Surfaces, Meiiaura-
tion of Solida, liand-.Survcying, Calculationanf Strength
of Materials, (lauging, Projectilra, Fortification, Aatro-
nomical Problcma, Navigation, Dialling, kc. In auch
a limited apace as the preaent aheet it would be altoge-
ther impossible to preaent even u mere outline of theaa
numeroua branchea of general and practical mathema-
tica; and all we propose to do ia, to offer a aketch of
a few leading featurea of the acience, in order to ahow
whs', ia meant by varioua teriiia in cunimon uae, and
also to incite the reader to a regular course of study,

DKPINITIO.NS UF IKHMX AND FlUl'Hm.

In common language, the extremity of any sharn in-
strument, such as an awl, a pencil, or n penkniln, is
called a point. A small mark or dot made with such
an instrument on wood or paper would also be callvd a
point ; but if examined with a magnify iiig-glosi, it would
apiiear an irregular spot, having length and breadth.
A geometrical point, on the contrary, has neither length
nor breadth, and may be called an imaginary dot.

The extremitiea or enda of lines are always consi-
dered to be points; and when two lines intersect- that
is, cross each other — the intersection is called a point.

The definition always given in geometry of a tine is,
that it is length toithvut breadth. It is therefore evident
that a true geometrical lino cannot be constructed ; for
however finely a line may be drawn, it will be always
found to have some breadth ; this will at once apiiear
by examining it through a microscope.

In practical geometry it is necessary to draw points
and lines; but it in impossible to approach to mathe-
matical exactness unless they be drawn as finely as pos-
sible — always bearing in mind that such lines and points
are merely tymboln of the true geometrical lines and
points to which our reasoning refers.

A tuperjicies or surface has only length and breadth,
and is bounded by lines. Uy the word surface is gene-
rally understood the outside of anything; as, for in-
stance, the exterior of the lid or of the sides of a box.
It is also used in geometry to convey the very same
idea, always supposing that it has no thickness.

A geometrical surface, like a line and a point, cannot
be constructed. The thinnest sheet of paper is not a
superficies, but a solid, having the three kinds of bulk
technically called dimensions, which are possessed by a
solid body — namely, length, breadth, and thickness.

Solids are bounded by surfaces. (Jeonietry consi-
ders the dimensions of space us abstracted or separated
from any solid body which might occupy that space : a
body always occupies a space exactly equal to itself iu
magnitude. This will be better understood by imagin-
ing a cast to be taken of some solid body : when the
body is removed, a cavity remains, and we can reason
concerning the dimensions of that cavity, knowing that
it is of the same length, breadth, and thickness, as the
solid body from which it waa cast. In this way we
reason concerning the dimensions of any given space,
and with the same precision as if geometrical lines,
surfaces, and solids, were really drawn in that space;
and it is the business of theoretical geometry to examine
the properties and relations of these forms or magni-
tudes. We learn from practical geometry how to form
repreientatioss of the ideas thus acquired. Therefore

600

CHAMBERS'S INTOBUATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

the common meaning uia»UT attached to the wordi
point, line, surfaoe, and tolU, is admiwible in practical
geometry; the object of thia^branch of science Deinff to
show how to draw upon paper, or construct in wood or
metal, correct representations of those forms or mag-
nitudes which are conceived to exist in space.

As there are three kinds of magnitudes — lines, sur-
faces, and solids — it follows that the natural dirision of
the science of geometry is into three primary depart
ments — namely, I. Geometry of Lines; 2. Geometry of
Surfaces; 3. Geometry of Solids, or Solid Geometry.
The term Plane Qeometry, however, is usually applied
to the geometry of straight lines, rectilineal figures,
and circles described on a plane.

Lines are named by two letters placed one at each

extremity. Thus the line drawn here

is named the line A B. ^ "

It is obvious that lines can be drawn in different
ways and in various directions. A line can be crooked,
curved, mixed, convex, concave, or straight.

1. A orooked line is composed of two
or more straight lines.

2. A Hue, of which no part is a
straight line, is called a curved line,
eurve line, or curve.

3. A mixed line is a line composed of straight and
curved lines.

4. A convex or concave line is such that it cannot be
cut by a straight line in more than two
points; the conoavit]/ of the intercepted
portion is turned towards the straight
line, and the convexity from it.

A straight line is in geometry called a right line,
from the Latin rectus, straight. If two lines are such,
that when any two points in the one touch or coin-
cide with two points in the other, the whole of the lines
coincide, each of them is called a elraight or right
line. Thus a line which has been carefully ruled on
a sheet of paper will be found to coincide with the
edge of a ruler.

A straight line, therefore, may be said to lie evenly

between its extreme points. If a ,

straight line, as A B, turn round a c b

like an axis, its two extremities
A and B remaining in the same position, any other
point of it, as C, will also remain in the same position.

Any point in a line is called a point <\f tection, and
the two parts into which it divides the line are called
segments. Thus the point C in the above line A B is a
point of section, and AC, EC are segments.

It is evident that two straight lines cannot enclose
a space; and that two straight lines cannot have a
common segment, or cannot coincide in part without
coinciding altogether.

A surface may be concave, like the inside of a basin;
convex, like the exterior of a ball ; or plane, like the
top of a flat table. A plane superficies, or, as it is com-
monly called, a plane, is considered to be perfectly even,
so that if any two points are taken in it, the straight
line joining them lies wholly in that surface. Tnis
cannot perhapr be better illustrated than by placing
two flat panes of glass the one above the other. If
the two surfaces coincide exactly in every part, they
may be said to form a geometrical plane ; and it is
upon a plane equally flat and even that all geome-
trical lines and figures in plane geometry are supposed
to be drawn.

The Circle.

A figure is a part of space enclosed by one or more
boundaries; if these boundaries are superficies, it is
called a solid ; and if lines, it is called a plant figure,
in plane geometry.

The space contained within the boundary of a plane
figure is called its surfaoe ; and the quantity of surface,
in reference to that of some other figure with which
it is compared, is called its enrea.

I'he circle is one of those figures which are most used
in the arts and in practical geometry, and therefore
610

|0-

claims particular attention. When a line is made to
turn round one of its <>ads or extremities which remains
fixed, the extremity which in carried round the other
traces a line which is in every part equally distant
from the point where the other end is fixed. The lino
thus traced is a otrc{«, and is frequently •termed the
circumference, from the Latin circum, round, and
ftrens, canying.

A pair of compasses are generallv used in practical
geometry to describe a circle. Ther consist of two
straight and equal legs, generally of brass or iron, and
always pointed at the bottom. Their upper extremities
are joined together by a rivet or joint, so that they can
be opened or closed at pleasure. In order to draw a
circle, one end must be firmly fixed, and the other,
after being opened proportionately to the required size
of the circle, must be made to turn completely round,
and a pencil or pen being attached to it, the trace of
the circle is left upon the paper. The point in which
one of the legs of the compasses is fixed, and round
which the circle is described, is
called its centre, as A. A straight
line, as AB, drawn from the centre
to the circumference of a circle, is
called a radius, which is a Latin
word literally signifying a ray,
and of which the plural is radii.
A common wheel afifords one
the most familiar examples of a ^

circle. The axle is the centre, and the spokes are radii,
while the outer rim of the wheel may be called the
cirout)\ferenee. It is evident that all the spokes are of
equal length; and this is invariably the case with the
radii of every circle. A straight line, drawn through
the centre of a circle, and terminated at each extremity
by the circumference, is called a diameter, from the
Greek dia, through, and metreo, I measure. Thus CD
is a diameter of the preceding circle.

An aro of a circle in any part of the circumference,
as a 6 o; the chord of an arc is a straight line joining
its extremities, as a o. These two
words come from the Latin words
areas, a bow, and chorda, a string,
because, as is shown by the annexwi
figure, a geometrical aro with its i
chord closely resembles a bow to
which a string has been attached for
the purpose of shooting. A rainbow
is a beautiful example of an arc. A semicircle is a
segment, having a diameter for its chord, and therefore
is just half of a circle.

When a chotd is lengthene<I, and made to extend
beyond the boundaries of a circle, it is said to cut the
circle, and is therefore called a secant, from the Latin
secans, cutting. A straight line,
AB, which lies wholly outside the
circle, meeting it only in one
point, is called a tangent, from
the Latin tangens, touching, be-
cause it is said to touch the
circle in the point C. If the
line AB were to remain fixed,
and if the circle CDS were made
to revolve round a point in its centre, !n the same vay,
for instance, as a fly-wheel turns, it would be found
that no part of the line AB would be touched by the
circle, except the one point C. This property of the
circle has been turned to account in various ways.
Thus the grindstone used for sharpening knives is a
circle made to revolve on its centre; the blade of the
knife is held as a tangent to this circle; and therefore
each time that the grindstone is turned round, it rubs
against the blade, producing a finer edge, and giving it
a polished ap])earance.

Circles are said to touch one another when they meet,
but do not cut one another. Circles that touch one
another, as the circle CDE and FGH in the last figure,
are called tangent circles.

The point in which a tangent and a curve, or two

OEomrrRY.

Ungent olrclei meet, U called a point of oontael. When
of two tangent circle! one ia within the other, the con-
tact ii wid to be internal f but when the one ia without
the other, the contact ia aud to be external, (See
figure.) Tangent circlea are very frequently applied
to uaeful purpoaea in varioua arta and manufacturea.
The wheela of a watch are merely ao many tangent
circlea. When, by means of the mainapring, one of the
circlea ia made to rerolre, ita motion causea the wheel
whicb. touchea it to more alao, and the motion of that
tangent circle cauaea the wheel which touches it to
move likewise; and in this way motion ia tranamitted
or carried through the watch. It will be obaerved, on
examining the inaide of a watch, that the circumference
of each wheel ia indented or toothed; when the watch
ia going, the teeth of one wheel entera into the indenta-
tiona of the other, and thus the one wheel is carried
round by the other.

Concentric circles are circles within circles, having
the same centre, c. A atone thrown into water producea
a familiar inatance of concentric circlea; the warea at
firat rush in to aupply the place of that portion of water
which was diaplaced by the stone, and then, by rapidly
flowing back, aeveral circlea are formed,
one within the other, on the surface of
the water; and though theae circles are
of very Tarious aizea, some being large,
and others small, yet the spot in which
the stone fell ia alike the centre of all,
and therdfore they are called concen-
tric circles.

Circles that have not the same centre are called
eccentric, in reference to each other, from the Latin ex,
out of, and centrum, cen»re. A point which ia not the
centre of a circle may alao be called eccentric in refer-
ence to that circle.

Circlea are called equal when their radii are equal
in length, becauae it neceaaarily follows that the cir-
cumference is also equal: thus the two wheels of a gig
are obviously equal circles, and the spokes or radii of
one are equal to those of the other.

The circle, as we shall hereafter have occasion to
show, is of much importance in many operations of
practical geometry, and is therefore divided into 360
equal parta, called degreee. It would, however, have
been poaaible to have divided the circle into any other
number of degreea ; the reason why the number 360
waa originally fixed upon ia the following: — During the
early ages of astronomy the sun was supposed to per-
form an annual revolution round the earth, while the
earth remained perfectly stationary. The first astro-
nomers taught tnat the orbit or path in which they
imagined the f<un to move waa a circle, and that the
period which elapaed from the moment of his leaving
one point in this circle until he returned to it again
was preciaely 360 daya. AccordL'^^Iy, all circles were
divided into 360 dei^ees.

When it was discovered that the earth moves round
the auu, and that ahe performs an entire revolution,
not in 360 days, but in 365 days 6 hours 48 minutes
48 seconds, it was not thought advisable to alter the
division of the circle which had previously been estab-
lished, because the number 360 is found o' great con-
venience in all lengthened calculations, there being
many numbers by which it can be divided without a
remainder, as 1, 2, 3, 4, S, 6, 8, 9, 10, 12, 16, 20, &o.

Each of the 360 degrees is subdivided into 60 mi-
nutes, and each minute into 60 seconds. The degree ia
marked thus ( ° ) ; the minute ( ' ) ; the second ( " ) ; so
that to express 14 degreea 7 minutes 5 seconds we
have only to write 14° 7' 5". Sometimes the second ia
again divided into tixtj equal parte, called tiercea, or
thirds, which diviaion is expressed by the sign ('");
but more frequently decimals are used to express the
smaller divisions.

The French divide the circle into 400 equal parts,
called degrees; each degree into 100 minutes, and each
minute into 100 seconds. When this division is used
by iidiglish writers, they generally give the name of

gradet to the degrees. One grade is equal to C-S, or
to 64', or to 8240".

A circle, as we have just obaerved, being divided by
mathematiciana into 360 degreea or parts, it follows that
the quarter of a circle includes
90 degrees. Taking, then, a Vt-*^ ^o
quarter of a circle, and mark- ^
ing it as in the adjoining figure,
HL is the horizontal line, and
PL the perpendicular line as-
cending from it. Any line
drawn from the centre to any
point of the circumference de-
fines the degree of inclination,
or slope off the horizontal.
Thus a line aacending from the

centre to the 10th
degree, ia called an inclination or angle of ten degreea;
a line aacending to the 46th degree is called an incU-
nation or angle of foity-nvb degrees; and so on with
all the other degrees to the 90th. In this manner a
standard of comparison has been established for defin-
ing the various slopes or inclinations in planes.

Angles.

Every one is familiar with the meaning of the word
comer ; we are accustomed to call those parts of a
room in which the walls meet the ' camera of the room,'
and in the same way, the sharp point in which two
aides or edges of a table meet is also called a comer.
The very same idea suggested by the word comer is
admitted into geometry, only the word itself is dropped,
and the word angle substituted, simply because the
Latin for comer is angtdus.

By un angle, therefore, we are to understand the in-
clination or opening of two straight lines that meet,
but are not in the same straight line. The two lines
which thua form an angle are called the side* of that
angle. In the above figure of the quadrant, or quarter
circle, we have an example of a right angle in the
comer formed by the junction of the horizont^ and
upright linea.

An angle which is greater than a right angle, or more
than 90 degrees (as O), is called an obtuse angle, from
the Latin obtusus, blunt, because the vertex or angular
point has a blunt appearance.

-A.

An angle which ia less than a right aiii;lc, or less than
90 degrees (as A), is called an acute angle, from the
Latin acutm, sharp, from the vertex being sharp-
pointed. The number of degrees by which an obtuse
an^le exceeds, or by which an acute angle is less than
a right angle, is called ihe complement of the angle.

The two lines which form a right angle are said to be
perpendicular to each other; therefore, whenever a per-
pendicular is raised either on the ground or on paper,
a right angle is formed. Thus the walla of houses
and of all architectural edifices are perpendicular, and
form right anglea with the ground on which they are
built ; and when the perpendicular ia departed from,
as in the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the eye ia offended,
and an apprehension of danger excited in the mind.
It ia not, however, easential Uiat a perpendicular line
should be vertical — that is to say, in the same direction
as a weight falls when suspended by a strinc : a per-
pendicular ma^ be in an inclined, or even in a horizontal
position, provided only that it form an angle of 90
degreea with the line to which it is perpendicular. It
is so often requisite in practical geometry to erect a
perpendicular, that an instrument called a Carpenter's
Square has been invented for the purpose. It consists
merely of two flat rulers placed at right angles to each
other. As, however, instruments of this description are
often made with ^reat inaccuracy, and as it is not, be-
sides, always possible in certain situations to have one

611

CHAMBEBffS INFOBUATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

at hand, the following methods of nising a perpendi-
cular on a giren line, and from a given point, will be
found very uieful.

Let AB be the given ^V.

line, and C the given •^

point.

Case 1.— When the
point is near the middle
of the line.

On each side of C lay
off equal distances, CD, . L ,, „ „

CE; and from D and "^ ^ ^ ^ "

E as centres, with any radius, describe arcs intersecting
in F ; draw CF, and this is the required perpendicular.

Case 2. — When the point is neat one of the extremi-
ties of the line.

Method 1. — From ""^^^

C as a centre, with /'TN

any radius, describe
the arc DEF, and
from D lay off the _E,

same radius to E, and
from E to F; then
from E and F as
centres, with the same
or anv other radius, ^
describe arcs inter-
secting in O ; draw GC, and it will be perpendicular
toAB.

Method 2. — From \:E"

any point D as a centre,
and the distance DC as
a radius, describe an
arc ECF, cutting AB in
E and C; draw ED, and
produce it to cut the
arc in F ; then draw FC,
and it is the perpendi-
cular.

The angles made by a straight line falling on another
straight line are either two right angles, or are to-
gether equal to two right angles. The first of the an-
nexed figures presents an example of two right angles
being formed by the meeting of two straight lines. In
the second figure it is evident that the angle ACD con-
tains exactly as many decrees more than a right ancle
as the angle DCB contaus less than a right angle :

therefore the two angles are together equal to two right
angles. Each of these angles is said to be the supple-
nunt of the other, from the Latin mppko, ' I fill up
what is deficient,' because the numerical value of each
angle is exactly what the other wants of lUO degrees,
which is the sum of two right angles. Equal angles
have therefore invariablv equal supplements; and it
is scarcely necessary to add, that all angles having equal
supplements must be equal.

From this it follows that when two straight lines
cross, the opposite angles are equal. The angles AEC
and DEB are called vertical c^
anjr/e«, because they are opposite '^'^^ n

to each other ; they are evidently ^"^--.^^^^

t-qual, simply because they have ^i>

equal supplements, as will at once be teen by a careful
examination of the figure. The same is true of the
angles CEB and A ED. It is manifest from this, that
if two straight lines cut one another, the angles which
they make at the ])oint of their intersection are together
equal to four right angles. Hence all the angles made
by any number of lines meeting in one point are to-
gether equal to four right angles.

raraUel LInca.
We are surrounded by familiar examples of lines
which always preserve the same distance from each
612

other. The ruts made in a muddy road by the wheels
of a cart, the iron bars called rails of a railway, upon
which the wheels of the steam -carriages run, the five
lines upon which the characters of music are drawn,
t'le string of a harp, &c. are all so many instances of
lines which are always equidistant from each other;
and which, even if prolonged to an infinite extent ir
the same direction, could never meet. Such lines are
in geometry called parallels, from the Greek words
para, beside, and allelon, each other.

As the distance between any two parallel lines is
always equal at every point, it follows that perpendi-
culars drawn between such lines must also be equal.
Thus in architecture, the columns which support the
upper part of a building are made of equal height,
because the roof which they support is parallel with
the base from which they are erected. From the fact
that parallel lines cut other lines proportionally, results
a mode of dividing a given line into any number of
given parts.

Let AB be the given line, and let the number of
equal parts be five. c

Method 1.— Draw a - H -

line AC through A at ^ F,

any inclination to AH,
and through B draw ^
another line BD paral-
lel to AC ; take any
distance AE, and lay
it off four times on AC,
forming the equal parts AE, EF, FO, GH ; lay off the
same distance four times on BD in the same manner ;
draw the lines HI, GK, FL, and EM, and they will
divide AB into five equal parts. For AB, AH, and
BM are cut proportionally.

In this figure the lines AC and DB being parallel,
the parallel lines E M, F L, &c., are equal ; and by
them the straight line AB is divided into equal parts.
In practical geometry, the method of drawing a line
parallel to a given line, and at a given distance from
it, depends on the fact, that the parallel lines are every-
where equidistant, and is the following : —

Let Kii be the given line, and D the given distances.

From any two points ^
M and N in KL as ^

centres, ana a iadius
equal to D, describe
the arcs V and Q; draw
a line HFj to touch these
arcs — tbat is, to be a
common tangent to
them — and KS is the

V^-p^-N — T^^'-feT

"x Jr

X»

required line parallel to AB.

Triangles.

Tht triangle is one of the most useful figures in
gcometty : all figures which are bounded by 8traij;ht
lines are capable of being resolved or divided into tri-
angles. A iriangle has three sides, and also, as itsi
name imports, three angles.

A triangle (as E) in which the three sides are e(|U!il,
is called equilateral, from
the Latin a!quus, equal, and
lalus, a side. Such a tri-
angle is also called equian-
gular (from cequtu, equal,
and angulun, comer), because when the sides of a
triangle are equal, the angles likewise are invariably
equal.

A triangle (as I) having two equal sides, is calloil
itotceles, from the Greek isos, equal, and skeloa, leg.

In a scalene triangle (as S) the three sides are of
unequal length. The word scalene literally means
unequal, being derived either from skazo, to limp, or
from skalenos, unequal.

Une of the most important properties of trianglen it),
that the three angles are together equal to two right
angles. This fact is demonstrated in the following
manner : — Draw a trianj^le, as ABC, and extend one of

OEOMETBt.

The Bide

iU Bidei (BC) u far as D. The obtuse angle thus
formed (ACD) is called an exterior angle, because it is
outside the triangle. From
the point C draw a straight line
to E, parallel to the line AB.
It is an established fact, that
all alternate angles formed by

a straight line cutting two parallel lines, are equal;
the angles BAG, ACE are alternate, because they are
formed by the straight line AC cutting the two parallel
lines AB and CE, and are therefore equal. It is evi-
dent that the angles ABC and ECD are equal, because
the line AB, which forms a side of one angle, is parallel
to the line CE, which forms a side of the other; and
the other side of each angle is made by the same line —
namely, BD; and an angle' being the inclination of one
line to another, it is obvious that whenever, as in this
case, the inclination of the lines is equal, the angles
likewise must be equal. Having now proved that the
obtuse exterior angle ACD is equal to the two interior
and opposite angles CAB, ABC, we have merely to add
ACB, the only remaining angle of the triangle, to the
Migle ACD; and the angles ACD, ACB will be found
equal to the three angles CBA, BAC, ACB; but the
angles ACD, ACB are equal to two right angles,
because, as has been already stated, the angles made
by one straight line falling upon another, are either
two right angles, or are together equal to two right
angles; therefore the angles CBA, BAC, ACB are
equal to two right angles, or 180 degrees.

There are several very useful conclusions
deduced from this property of triangles.
1 . There can only be one right angle in a
triangle ; for if one angle is 90 degrees,
the other angles can only be together equal
to 90 degrees ; one must be the comple-
3nt of the other, or what the other wants
90 degrees. A triangle which has a right
'uigle is called a right-angled triangle, as K,
opposite the right angle is called the
hypotenuse. 2. It is equally obvi-
ous that a triangle cannot contain
more than one obtuse angle. Fig.
is an obtuae-angled triangle. 3. All
the angles of a triangle may be
acute, OS A, which is called an acute-angled triangle.
4. When two angles of a triangle are
known, or even the sum of those angles,
the third may be easily discovered ; for
if the sum of two angles be deducted
from 180 degrees, the remainder must
be the number of degrees of which the
third angle consists.

Another property of triangles is, that the greater
angle of every triangle has the greater side opposite to
it. In the annexed triangle, the
angle ABC is greater than the
angle BCA. The side AC, being
opposite to the larger angle, is
longer than the side AB, which is
opposite to the smaller angle. There
is a kind of natural geometry in the mind even of an
uneducated ]ierson, according to which he acts without
much reflection. Supposing that an untaught peasant
had to ascend to the S'lmmit of a mountain, he would
not commence his ascent from a point where the moun-
tain forms the greatest angle with the ground, and is
therefore most precipitous; he would, on the contrary,
take the more circuitous road along the opposite side
of the mountain, as if he were aware of tho property of
triangles which has been last mentioned — namely, that
the largest angles are subtended by the longest sides.

Quadrilateral Figures.
Quadrilateral, or literally four- sided figures, are
sometimes called quadrangles, because they have four
angles; they may be divided into two classes: — 1. Those
in which all the opposite sides are parallel ; and, 2.
Those in which all the opposite sides are not parallel.

Those belonging to the first class are called paraUelO'
grams, and may be farther subdivided into two divi-
sions — namely, those which contain four right angles,
and to which the generic name of rectangle has conse-
quently been applied; and secondly, thos-: whidido
not contain any right angles, two of the angles being
obtuse and two acute,

A square is the most useful of quadrilateral figures.
Having four right angles, it is called a rectangle ; and
all the sides are of equal length. The figure S is a
square. The annexed figure R may
be called with equal propriety a pa-
rallelogram, a rectangle, or an oblong;
it will be observed that its sides are
not all equal, its length beine greater
than its breadth. In speaking of a
often found convenient to

rectangle, it is
,une it by the lines which
compose its base and height, and it is called the rec-
tangle under or contained by these lines.

A rhombus or lozenge, and a rhomboid, form the se-
cond division of the first class ; because, although the
sides are parallel, the ancles are
not right angles. A rhombus has
all its sides equal, as B. In a
rhomboid, the opposite sides only
are equal, as P; the length being either greater than the
breadth, or vice versa.

A trapezoid has only two sides parallel, as D. When
the sides of a trapezoid that
are not parallel are equal, it is
sometimes called a trapezium.
from the Greek word trapeza,
a table.

A diagonal is a straight line o.-awn between two op-
posite angular points of a parallelo^am. A diagonal
bisects a parallelogram — that is, divides it into two
equal parts ; thus let ACDB be a
parallelogram, of which BC is a iia-
gonal; the opposite sides and angles
of the figure are equal to one another,
and the diagonal BC bisectr. it.

From this it immediately follows, that the comple-
ments of the parallelogra ns, which are about the die^-
gonal of any parallelogrim, are equal to one another.
It has been shovm that the literal meaning of the term
complement is to /// up ; the application of this term
to parallelograms will be °ndr^n.'tood by carefully com-
paring the following expi'/aation with the annexed
figure. Let ABCD be a ptirallelo-
gram, of which the diagonal is AC;
let EH, FG be the parallelograms
about AC — that is, through which AC
passes — and BK, KD the other paral-
lelograms which make up the whole
figure ABCD, which are therefore
called the complements. The complement BK is equal
to the complement KD. The two complements, joined
to any of the parallelograms about
a diagonal, form wha; is. called a
gnomon. Thus the parallelogram
HG, together with '-.he complements
AF, FC, is the gnomon, which is
more briefly expressed by the letters
AGK, or EHC, which are placed at
the opposite angles of the parallelograms which make

A M

rN-^

k d

the gnomon

When it is required
to describe a rectangle,
of which the leiigtl
and breadt-h are to be
respectively equr.l to
two given lines,, the
following operation is
necessary: —

Let HI and KL be
the givLi lines.

Draw a line MN
equal to HI, and draw

Hi
K+.

■+L

MP perpendicular to MN, and equal to KL; from P

613

OHAMBBBS'S INFOBMATtOV fOB THE PEOPIB.

M ft centre, vltli • ndlui aqu*! to MN, deioribe an an
at Q; and ft«m N ae .* centre, with a radiue «qual to
MP, detoribe an are c-.Uing the former in Q; draw
PQ, NQ; and MQ ie the requir..^ rectangle.

A Muare may, for practical purpo<ei, be described in
the foUowinc manner on any given line : —

Let MN M the given
line.

S'rom M draw MP per-
pendicular to MN, and
n«m MP out off a part
MQ equal to MN; then
from Q and N as centres,
with a radius equal to
MN, describe f'-'fa inter-
ieoting in R; aw QR
and NR, and .' x' is the
required square.

The Ellipse.
An ettipte, or oral, is geometrically constructed as
follows, by means of a pair of compasses : — Let AB be
the major axia or
transverse; draw a
lino bisecting it per-
pendicularly (which
IS done by describ-
ing from A and B
as centres, with any
radius, arcs cuttins
each other in C and
D, and then joining
C and D) ; and wake QC, GD, each equal to half the
minor axis or conjugate; then CD is the minor axis.
From C as a centre, with half the major axis AO as a
radius, cut AB in E and F, and these points are the foci.
Produce AB to Q, till EQ becomes equal to AB; and
from £ as a centre, with £Q as a radius, describe the
arc PQIl, and it will be a species of directrix to the
ellipse. From the same centre E, with any distance
EI, describe the arc IIIK, and with IQ, the distance of
this arc from PQR, as a radius, and F as a centre, cut
the arr IIIK in H and K, and these are two points in
the curve. Similarly, from E as a centre describe
another arc LM ; and with the distance of this arc from
PQR as a radius, and F <is a centre, cut the arc LM in
L and M, and these are also two points in the curve.
Find the other two points S and T in exactly the same
manner. Having thus found a sufficient number of
points in the curve, join them all carefully, and the
ellipse will thus be constructed.

An ellipse may be constructed by the following
method, which will be considered sufficiently exact for
many practical purposes: —
On a given line, as AB, de-
scribe two circles of such
diameter as may best accord
with the reguired propor-
tions. Whatever ene he
taken, let the foot of the
compasses be placed so as to
describe the elongated parts
of the figure true on the per-
pendicular line J^B. Then
draw a horizontal line so that
it intersectb the parts C and
D, where the circles cut each
other. Now the width of
the oval may have been pre-
viously determined ; if so, it must reeula';e the ex-
pansion of the compasses, and determine where the
foot shall be placed on the line CD, equidistant from
the centre, so as to describe the segment, that it may
unite with the lines of the circles on either side, fo:ra-
ing a continuous line, as at EE and FF; that is, in
such a manner as to form the oval figure as if made
by one operation.

* Qnwlritatvral flgii-08 are concisely nsvca, as ftbOTC, by the
IcttcrH nt twu uiiiHwlle angular points.
614

Polygons.— Tnserlbsil and Oirounseribed Fignrsf.
A plane figure enclosed by more than four straight
lines, is called a polygon, from the Greek words poTw,
many, and gonia, an angle; because, when a figure has
many sides, it has necessarily a corresponding number
of aneles. A regv^lar polygon has all its sides equal,
and also all its angles; an irregular polygon has its
sides or angles, or both, unequal. A polygon of five
sides is called a pentagon ; of six, a hexagon ; of seven,
a litptagon ; of eight, an ocUtgon ; of nine, a nonagon ;
of ten, a deeagon ; of eleven, an undeeagoni of twelve,
a dodeeagon ,• and of fifteen, a guindecagon or pentede'
eagon. Figures which have more than twelve sides are
called polygons of 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 sides, be.

The centre of a regular polygon is a point equally
distant from its sides or angular points. The apothem
is a ijerpendicular drawn from the centre to any cue of
the sides, and analogous to the radius of a circle.

The whole boundary of any flgun is called its peri,
meter, from peri, around, and metreo, I measure. The
perimeter of a polygon is, in fact, what the circum-
ference is in a circle, for by it the fisure is enclosed.
In practical geometry, the usual mevaod adopted for
obtaining regular polygons is, in the first place, to draw
a circle about equal in size to the required size of the
polygon ; then the circumference is divided into as
many equal parts as the polygon is to have sides; all
that then remains to complete the figure is to draw
straight lines or chords between each two points of
division, and these lines will form the sides of tho
polygon.

Figures constructed according to this method are
saia to be insoribed in a circle, and all the angles of the
inscribed figure will always be found to be upon the
circumference of the circle. A regular pentagon may,
by the following process, be inscribed in a circle : —
Let SLR be the given circle.
Draw two perpen-
dicular diameters, l.
IK, LM ; bisect the
radius 01 in N ; from
N as a cent?*?.., with
NL as a radr (s, cut
OK in P ; wi ;h ra-
dius LP, and centre
L, cut the circum-
ference ia Q ; join
LQ, and other four
chords equal to it
being drawn in suc-
cession in the circle,
the required polygon
will be formed.

A regular decagon may be inscribed in a circle by a
little extension of the same process : —
Let SLR be, as before, the given circle.
Find a side LQ of the inscribed regular pentagon;
bisect the arc LQ in V, and the chord LV being drawn,
it is a side of the regular decagon ; and ten chords
equal to it being successively placed i» the circle, will
form the polygon.

Sometimes a figure is described about a given circle,
and is then said to be a circumscribed figure, the cir-
cumference of the circle being touched by each of its
sides. In practical geome-
try, the method of describ-
ing a regular polygon about
a circle is the following : —
Let WVY be the given
circle.

Find the angular points
of the corresponding in-
scribed polygon of the same
number of sides ; let W,

X, Y, be three of these

angular points; through XT IC T

these points draw the tangents WU, UT, TY; and
UT is a tide of the required polygon ; in the tame man-

OBOMETRY.

ner ike otW t\in are found, and the oiicumioribuig
polygon ii thui dcteribed.

In thU manner the regular pen-
tagon in the adjoining figure ii de-
scribed about the circle; H, K, L,g,
M, and O, being the angular point*
of the inioribed regular pentagon,
and tangent! through these pouite
being drawn, the cirounuicrlbing re-
gular pentagon ii formed.

Practical geometry affords a ihort and easy method
of instructing a regular hexagon upon a given line.

Let OH be the gi>».n line.

From G and H as
centres, with the ra-
dius GH, describe arc*
intersecting in X, and
this poirt is the centre
of the circumscribing^
circle; hence with the
radius OH, from the
centre X, describe a
circle, and apply OH
six times along the
circumference, then
OHIKLM is the required hexagon.

Another fact relating to the propertieg of regular
figures, and which is of some importance in several of
the mechanical arts, is, that there are only three regu-
lar figures which can cover a surface completely, so as
to leave no intervening interstices ; these figures are
the square, the equilateral triangle, and the hexagon :
we have a familiar example of the fact that squares can
completely cover a surface, in a common chess-boar J —
the sides of each square coincide exactly with the sides
of the adjoining squares, and no part of the board
between the squares is left uncovered. The reason of
this is, that all the angles made by any number of lines
meeting in one point, are together equal to four right
angles, or to SCO degrees; and that, therefore, if it be
required to lay any number of figures together, so that
the sides may be joined, and that no space may in-
tervene between, it is a necessary condition that the
angles contained between their sides be some aliquot
part of 360, else their angular points cannot all meet
in one point, neither can the surface be covered ex-
actly. The angles of squares being right angles, or
ar^gles of 90°, it is obvious that four squares can cora-
^letely cover any plane surface which is proportion-
able to their size, because 9U x 4 = 360. Six equila-
teral triangles can be Joined without leaving any
interstices, because the number of degrees cctained
in each of their angles is 60, and 60 x 6 = 360. Three
hexagons can also be placed contiguous to each other,
because 120, the number of degrees contained in each
of their angles, multiplied by 3, produces 360 : but ni>
other figures could by any means be thus plp"~ ' with-
out leavini/ interstices; and it is useful to bear this
ir mind, Because in mosaic work, inlaying, paving,
and some kinds of ornamental painting, it is often
requisite to cover a surface with some regular figure.
We sometimes see octagons laid near each other in
painted floors, Jlcc. and there is always an empty space
betwreen them ; but this empty space is a perfect
square, because the number of degrees in each angle
is 135, and as two angles only meet in one point, the
sum of both, 135 -|- 135, being equal to 270, there
are evidently 90° required to make up the required
number 360; and 90° are, as we have shown, con-
tained in the angle of a square.

The honeycombs of a bee-hive afford a familiar illus-
tration of the fact just explained, with respect to the
figures which can cover a surface. Of the only three
regular figures which can entirely fill up any given
space, the bees have selected the hexagon ; but here
tne question arises — Why were the little mathema-
ticians led to choose the hexagon in preference to the
square I The reason is cogent and philosophical : the
object of the beea wa* not only to fit in their habitations

closely together, lo that labour and wax might be saved,
and that each little cell might be itre.igthened by the
immediate juxtaposition of other cells, but also to render
the interior of each cell a* large and commodious a*
possible ; because the young ones are lodged in these
cells, and betides, the honey which is to supply the
whole hive with food during the winter is stored away
in them. Had the square or the equilateral triangle
been chosen, the angles of the cell wouid in that case
have certainly been farther from the centre, but the
sides would have come nearer to it ; for just in propor-
tion to the number of sides is the length of the
apothem. When a figure has but few sides, the
apothem is comparatively short ; and, other thing*
being equal, it increases in length according as the
sides are more numerous. The longer the apothem,
the farther the sides recede from the centre ; there-
fore it is clear that a figure of many sides circum-
scribes a larger space than a figure of equal perimeter,
which has fewer sides. This is one of the reasons
why a circular form is given to domestic utensils, such
as ewers, bottles, casks, culinary vessels, &c. and also
to water-pipes, and to the pipes used for conveying gas.
A circle is merely a polygon of an infinite number of
sides ; on account of the infinite smallness of its sides
it is free from all angular projections, and having more
sides than any other polygon, it can, with a given peri-
meter, aocordir^ to the principle just laid down, en-
close the largest possible space. It follows from this,
that if, from a given quantity of materials, a vessel i*
constructed having a circular form, that vessel will be
found capable of receiving a larger volume of contents
than another vessel wrought into any other form out
of the same given quantity of materials would be able
to contain. This principle is one of very extensive ap-
plication, and is constantly acted upon in architecture
and in many of the arts.

The capacity of a circle, as, for instance, a circular
tube, is greatly increased by only a small addition to ita
diameter, because the increase is all round. The in-
crease of capacity is in the ratio of the squares of the
diameter : a tube 8 inches in diameter has four times
the capacity of one which is 4 inches in diameter ; one
16 inches in diameter has four times the capacity of
one i) inches in diameter; Mid so on.

HENSUBATION OF PLANE FIOUSES.

It is often requisite, for many practical purposes, to
ascertain the exact size of a given figure. For this
purpor'j certain lines of a determinate length, as inches,
feet, yards, miles, &c. have been pitched upon as the
units of measure or lineal units; and measuring a line
consists in finding how often one or ether of these units
of measure is contained therein. Measuring a figure
consists in finding the number of squares contained
within its boundaries, the sides of each of those squares
being equal to one of the lineal units above-mentioned ;
the number of squares, when found, is called the area
or superficial content of the figure.

A rectangle is very easily measured, it only being
requisite to ascertain its length and breadth, and then
to multiply the one by the other.

If C£ <<« a rectangle, and M the unit of measure, as,
for example, a foot ; and if the p
base CD contains M 4 times, and
the side D£ contains it 3 times,
the number of squares described
on M that a i contained in CE is
just a 4 X 3 s 12 square feet.
For by laving off parts on CD,

DE, equal to M, and drawing q _

through the points of division ~

lines parallel to the sides of the
figure, it will evidently be divided into 3 rows of squares,
each containing 4 squares; that is, 3 x 4 k 12 squares
or square feet.

If the side CD contained 4^ inches, and DE 3
inches, it would similarly be found that the number
of squara inchei in the fguie would be a 4^ x 3 ca

615

OHAjOEBS'S INFOBMi.nOir FOB THE PEOPLE.

(I y 3 aa 13} iquare inchM; or 4*5 x 3 » 13*5 iquare
nchea; and wli»t«v«r is the length of the sides, the
area is found always in the same manner.

The area of a square is at onoe known by multiply-
ing one of the sides by itself; thus supposing one side
of a square table to measure 4 feet, then 4 multi|)lied
by 4 gires the whole number of square feet contained
in the table — namely, 16.

It is demonstrated by Euclid, that parallelograms
upon the same base and between the same parallels are
equal to each other; from this it follows that the area
of a rhoiubus and a rhomboid cau be ascertained bvthe
same easy process adopted for measuring rectangles —
namely, by multiplying the length by the perpendicu
)ar height or breadth. The area of a triangle is also
founi*. in the same way, the base being multiplied by
^he perpendicular *'e<"ht; but only half the product
denotes the cont<^nt le triangle, because a triangle
is exactly the half .- parallelogram of the same base
and altitude. '

The area of ai.'y (|'jadrilateral may be found by the
same method : a diagonal being drawn from two of its
opposite angles, it will be divided into two triangles,
and by computing as above the area of each triangle,
and then adding their areas together, their sum will
indicate the whole extent of area comprised within the
quadrilateral. The area of a trapezoid is generally
found by multiplying half the sum of the two parallel
sides by the perpendicular distance between them; the
area of n trapezium may likewise be found in the same
way. When it is desired to ascertain the area of an
irregular polygon, diagonals must be drawn between
the opposite angles; thi will divide the figure into
quadrilaterals or trapezoids, and triangles, and the Mea
of each of these must be found separately, according to
the above rules; all these areas added together will
give the whole 8U]>erficial content of the polygon.

The area of a regular polygon is found by aidding all
the sides together, and then multiplying the sura by
the apotheni ; half the product will be equal to the area.
The reason of this is, that every regular polygon may
be divided into as many equal triangles as it has sides,
and as the area of a triangle is equal to half the pro-
duct produced by the multiplication of the boso by the
perpendicular, so the total amount of all the triangles
forming .i polygon may be found by multiplying the sides
of the polygon, which are the bases of the respective
triangles, by half the apothem; because the apothem,
as before explained, is only a perpendicular drawn from
the centre of the polygon to the middle of one of the
sides, and is therefore equal to the perpendicular height
of each triangle; half the product, as in the case of a
single triangle, therefore, gives the required area.

The rule for finding the area of a polygon leads to
that for finding the area of a circle; because, as before
observed, a circle may, by approximation, be CHnsidered
as a regular polygon with an infinite number ot infinitely
small sides. As the area of a polygon is obtained by
the multiplication of its perimeter by its apothem, so it
may naturally be inferred that the multiplication of
the circumference of a r role by its radius will be the
means of discovering tli area of the circle. But here
a difficulty arises; it is evident that the radius and
circumference cannot bo multiplied until the exact
length of each be known : there is no difficulty of this
kind in the measurement of polygons, because their
sides, being straight lines, can easily bo measured ; the
radius of a circle, being also a straight line, can be
measured with equal facility; but how are we to ascer-
tain the length of the circumference ? This question
has occupied the attention of philosophers from age to
age, and was never solved to the entire satisfaction of
any till about a century ago. Innumer-
able attempts have been made to discover =::=:

what ratio a circumference bears to its

diameter. Archimedes, one of the Greek ■
geometricians, who lived more than two ^i:;;:^
thousand years ago, assigned the ratio to zz::zi
bo as 7 to 22 ; nearer ratios have been
616

disoorered since his time. A Dutch mathematician
carried the ratio to 36 figures, and this was at the
time considered so important a discovery, that it was
engraved on his tombstone at Leyden. Others subse-
quently extended the ratio still further ; and in a
French work published about 1719 a. o., it was carried
to no less than 128 figures. The ratio 3-1416 is suffi-
ciently accurate for all common purposes. When very
peat accuracy is required, the ratio 3']4169 may be used
instead of 3*1416. Sometimes the ratio 31415926636
is taken, but such a high degree of accuracy is seldom
required. The general rule for findinc the length of
the circumference of a circle is to multi|uy the diameter
by the ratio, and the product is the circumference; or
to add the constant logarithm 0*4971509 to that of the
diameter, and the sum is the logarithm of the circum-
ference.

CONSTRUCTION OF SCALES — PROPORTION.

In practical geometry, scales of various kinds are
used for the construction of figures. Scales are lines
with divisions of various kinds marked upon them, ac-
cording as they are to be used for measuring lines or
angles. The name of *cale» is given to lines so divided,
because the Latin word for ladder is leala, and the divi-
sions are equidistant like the steps of a ladder. A line
ao divided is for the same reason said to be graduated,
this word being derived from the Latin gradui, a step.

The values of the magnitudes of lines or angles are
numbers representing the number of times that Bom<>
unit of the same kind is contained in them.

The unit of mtaswe for lines is some line of given
length, as a foot, a yard, a mile, and so on.

The unit of measure for angles is, as we have already
shown, the ninetieth part of a right angle.

The method of constructing a scale of equal parts is
the following : —

Lay ofl' a number of equal divisions, AB, BC, CD,
&c., and A£, and divide AE into 10 equal parts. When
4- 3 2 I S ,

D C B A » K

a large division, as AB, represents 10, each of the
small divisions in A£ will represent 1. When each of
the large divisions represents 100, each of the small
divisions in AE "esents 10. Hence, on the latter
supposition, the aisuwce from C to n is 230; and on
the former supposition, it is 23.

If the large divisions represent units, the small ones
on AE represent tenths — that is, each of them is y\,
or 'I. On this supposition the distance Cn is 2*3.

To construct a plane diagonal scale.

1 . A diagonal scale for two figures.

Draw five lines parallel to D£, and equidistant, and
4 3 u 1 a 1'

\ /

♦»

V /

^r-

D C B A «t E

lay off the equal divisions AE, AB, BC, CD, &c., and
make EP, AQ, Bl, C2, &c. perpendiculat to DE. Find
in the middle of AE, and draw the lines Qm, mP.

The mode of using this scale is evident from the last.
If the large divisions denote tens, then from n to o is
evidently 34.

2. A diagonal scale for three figures.

Draw ten lines parallel to DE, and equidistant.
I^y off the equal parts AB, BC, CD, &c., and AE, and
draw EP, AQ, Bl, C2, ... &c. perpendicular to DK.
Divide QP, AE, into 10 equal parts. Join the ]st, ^d,
3d,... divisions on QP with the 2d, 'id, 4ih, ... divisions
on AE respectively.

.T 2 L Q 2 4 6 a P

OEOMETRT.

If the dWiiioni oh AD each repreiert 100, each of
thoM on QP will repreient 10. Thui from 3 on AD
to 8 on QP ii 380 ; but by moving the points of the
compaiMi down to the fourth line, and extending them
from n to o, the number will be 384. For the distance
of 8 on QP from Q is 80, and of r from A ii 90 ; and
hence that of o from the line AQ ii 84.

When the division! on AD denote tens, those on QP
denote units; and from n to o would then represent
38tV or 38-4.

When the numbers representing the lengths of the
sides of any figure would give lines of an inconvenient
size taken from the scale, the numbers may be all mul-
tiplied or all divided by such a number as will adapt
the lengths of the lines to the required dimensions of
the ficure.

Scues, by enabling us to ascertain the length of lines
and magnitudes of figures, are .-<!ry useful in the in-
vestigation of the doctrine of proportion. The import
of the term proportion has already been sufficiently
dwelt upon in arithmetic ; and the reader has only to
apply the ideas there developed to lines and to figures.

To prevent any misapprehension on <;he subject, it is
well to understand clearly the distinction between the
terms equal and similar figures.. Equal figures are
those which are precisely the same in every respect,
being of the same size and of the same form. Similar
figures are those which are precisely of the same form
or shape, but of diiferent sizes; the angles of two simi-
lar figures are equal, and the homologous sides — that
is, the sides which lie in the same relative position in
each figure — are proportional.

There is always a difficulty in the demonstration of
tlie doctrine of proportion, on r ccount of the frequent
occurrence of incommensurable quantities — that is to
say, quantities which have no common n 'sure ; the
subject is, however, rendered clearer bj higher

branches of mathematics.

The applications of the doctrine of proportion are
i-ery numerous and important, for it is the very foun-
dation of many arithmetical, algebraical, and trigo-
nometrical operations. It furnishes rules for taking
plans in architecture and surveying : a map, whether
«f an estate or of a country, is merely a proportional
representation on a small scale of the exact outline of
a district. Sculpture and painting, usually numbered
among the fine arts, are really wholly dependent upon
the mathematical doctrine of proportion ; ; ■ statue or
bust, for instance, is either equal to some gi 'in figure,
and is then familiarly termed ' large as lifa,' or else it
is a similar figure, proportionably larger or smaller
than the given figure, according as it is constructed on
ft larger or a smaller scale. In the same way land-
scape paintings are merely delineations of the promi-
nent forms in natural scenery, all of which are repre-
sented in proportion on a smaller scale ; and the value
of the painting in a great measure depends on the
mathematical exactness of these proportions.

ANALYSIS OF EUCLID'S ELEMENTS.

It is one of the most remarkable facts in the history
of science, that while the great majority of ancient
scientific treatises have been altogether cast aside, and
their place supplied by ''^ore recent productions, des-
tined in their turn to be as entirely superseded by others
of still more recent date, yet that one book has weathered
every ebb and flow of popular opinion, and still holds
as high, if not a higher, place in the public estimation,
as when first given to the world. This work was writ-
ten more than 2000 years ago; and it is surely scarcely
necessary to add, that Euclid was the author, or per-
haps rather the compiler, of this extraordinary pro-
duction. There are thirteen books extant written by
Euclid, and hence called ' Euclid's Elements.' The four-
teenth and fifteenth books are supposed to have been
added by Ilysicles of Alexandria, about 170 a.d. The
method of reasoning pursued throughout these 'Ele-

ments,' and adopted by all mftthematicians, ii the foU
lowing: — In the first place, certain definitions, pts'
tulates, and axioms, are laid down, which form the entire
basis of all mathematical science. Perhaps it might
be advisable to make a few observations on the ezaot
meaning of these terms before we proceed farther.

By a definition is merely meant an explanation or
a description of the characteristic properties of the
object defined ; the assertion, for instance, that ' an
isosceles triangle is that which has only two sides
equal,' is a definition, because it conveys to an un-
learned peraen an idea of the meaning of the term
isosceles.

A potttduie is something that is allowed to be done,
or to be imagined to be done. The postulates given
by Euclid are the following : —

1. A line may be drawn from any oue point to any
other point.

2. A line may be produced (that is, continued or
lengthened) at pleasure to any length.

3. A circle may be described alK>ut anv centre, and
at any distance, or with any radius. It will be evident,
from a careful examination of these postulates, that
when necessary to prove any process of reasoning, it
is permitted to draw a line to the moon, and another
from the moon to a star, or to any point in the hea-
vens ; and although it is of course impossible really to
draw such lines, yet by these postulates we are per-
mitted to imagine them to be so drawn. It is also
evident, that by these postulates we are permitted the
use of two instruments in mathematical reasoning —
namely, the ruler and the compasses.

Mascheroni, an Italian mathematician, endeavouring
to render the narrow basis upon which geometnr is
upreored still more narrow, suggested a method of
performing all mathematical problems by the aid of
compasses alone, dispensing altogether with straight
lines and the ruler : an accjunt of this plan may be
seen in a celebrated work published by Maccheroni
about A. D. 1797, entitled Qtometria del Compasta
(' Geometry of the Compasses').

An axiom is a statement of some simple fact which
is self-e'. .dent, or requires no proof; thus, the 9th axiom
is an assertion that the whole is greater than its part.
It is impossible to doubt a statement like this ; even a
child is prepared to admit its truth; for who is not
aware that a whole mass of stone, for instance, is
greater than any fragment tha^ may be broken ofiT it t
and every day's observation is equally confirmatory of
all the other axioms, which, as p:upou.ided by Euclid
in the first book, are the following : —

1. Things which are equal to the same thing, are
equal to one another,

2. If equals be added to equals, the wholes are equal.

3. If equals be taken from equals, the remainders
are equal,

4. If equals be added to unequals, the wholes are
unequal.

5. If equals be taken from unequals, the remainders
are unequal.

6. Things which are double of the same, are equal
to one another.

7. Things which are halves of the same, are equal
to one another.

8. Magnitudes which coincide with one another —
that is, which exactly fill the same space — ore equal
to one another,

9. The whole is greater than its part.

10. All right angles are equal to one another.

11. Two straight lines cannot be drawn through the
same point, parallel to the same straight line, without
coinciding with one another.

12. It is possible for another figure to exist, equal
in every respect to any given figure.

Geometrical^ tacts and suppositions are, by Euclid and
all other mathematicians, couched in a form cf expres-
sion called a proposition. There are three kmds of pro-
positions — theorems, problems, aitd lemmai. A theorem
la a statement of some truth or class of truths ; but as,

617

OHAiCBSiurs nnpoBicinoK vob 'nm psopul

with tli« tln^\t eiMptlon of the •xloma, no hue
tion or ftatement ii Mmittod into geometry unlen fully
corroborated br proofi, • theorem require! to be de-
monitrated. There ii no way of profing the truth of a
theorem, except by reference to lome truth or truthi
already eitabliihed by prerioui theoremi; which again
muit hare been domonatrated by some preceding theo-
remi; and thut we are led back from theorem to theo-
rem, until we arrive at the foundation upon which
they are all found to reft — namely, the definitioni and
axiomf.

A problem either propoiei Kmething to be eflnscted,
OM the construction of a figure, or it is a question which
ought to be aolred; in either case it requires something
to bt done, and therefore depends entirelpr upon the
postulates for its solution. A'^er the tolution has been
stated, its lufiieienc^ for performing all the required
conditions still remains to he proved.

A lemma is a theorem which properly belongs to
■ome other part of geomettv, but which, from the close
connection which subsists between all the branches of
mathematical science, is often fitly introduced to ex-
plain some difficulty which would otherwise arise in
the demonstration of the succeeding theorems or pro-
blems. As lemmas rather disturb the continuous order
of a subject, they are never used by good mathema-
ticians except when absolutely requisite.

Having now explained the meaning of the terms used
in geometrical reasoning, the following observations on
the nature of that reasoning, and the method pursued
by Euclid and others, will he readily understood: — A
proposition is first stated in general terms : take, for
instance, the 20th proposition — 'Any two sides of a
triangle are together greater than the third side.' This
is but bare assertion: to advance a step farther, Euclid
places the figure referred to — namely, a triangle — before
the student, and tells him that, in the annexed triangle —
namely, ABC — any two sides of
it together are peater than the
third side ; that is to say, the sides
BA, AC are together greater
than the one side BC ; the sides
AB, BC are greater than AC ; and
BC, CA are greater than AB. This is certainly calling
off the attention from a mere general observation, and
confining it for a time to the examination of one indi-
vidual CAse; it is also demanding the assent of the psr-
ceptive faculties; for the moment that the eye lights
upon the triangle ABC, the mind is immediately ready
to acknowledge that two of its sides are together greater
than only one of its sides : yet the matter cannot rest
here. Euclid knew, as well as any of our modern phi-
losophers, that there are tico primar' principles in the
human intellect : the eye sees and conveys its impres-
sions directly to the perceptive or observing faculties;
but information thus acquired ought to be immediately
brought under cognisance of those faculties which en-
able us to trace the cause as well as the effect, and to
compare the relation of things. Euclid therefore sub-
jected every proposition he advanced to a double kind
of proof, by addressing both the sets of faculties which
compose the human intellect: perhaps this may alone
be sufficient to account for the fact, that his work has
from age to age been used as the text-book of elemen-
tary geometry, while other works, because less truly
philosophical, have engrossed public attention for a
moment, and have then sunk into oblivion.

A brief analysis of the several books composing what
is called ' Euclid's Elements,' may not be unacceptable
to the udleanied reader. 1'ho first three propositions
in Book I. are problems, and show the several methods
of describing an equilateral triangle, of drawing a
tttraigh*; line equal to a given straight line from a given
Tjoint, and of cutting off from the greater o( two given
straight lines a part equal to the less. The 4th propo-
sition is the first theorem which occurs in Euclid, and
requires to be examined a little in detail, because, in
connection with the Rth proposition, it forms the foun-
dation of all that is advanced respecting the compari-
018

ion of triangles. Thli important theoMm, M itated by
Euclid, is as follows: —

If two triangles have two sides of the one equal to
two sides of the other, each to each, and have likewise
the angles contained b^ those sides equal to one another,
their bases, or third sides, shall b« equal, and the two
triangles shall be equal, and their other angles shall b«
equal, each to each — namely, those to which the equal
sides are opposite. Or if two sides and the contained
angle of one triangle be respectively equal to those of
another, the triangles are equal in every respect.

Let ABC, DEF be two triangles, which have the two
sides AB, AC equal to the two sides DE, DF, each to
each — namely, AB to DE, and
AC to DF, and the angle
BAC equal to the angle EDF;
the hose BC shall be equal
to the base EF, a'td the tri-
angle ABC CO t!<e trinngle
DEF; and the other angles,
to which the equal sides are opposite, shall be euubl,
each to each; namely, the angle ABC to the angle DEF,
and the angle ACB to DFE. The method adopted
for demonstrating this theorem, as well aa that con-
tained in the 8th proposition, is a peculiar speciea of
demonstration which has received the name of luper.
position : it is, in reality, the same method pursued by
tailors and dressmakers when thev wish to satisfy them-
selves as to whether a piece of cloth has been cut cor-
rectly ftom a given pattern ; they place their original
pattern and the piece of cloth or silk together, the one
behind the other, and carefully observe whether the
edges of one project beyond those of the other ; but if
they both coincide in every point, the tailor knows that
his cloth has been correctly cut according to the pat-
tern. In the same way Euclid requires the triangle
ABC to be applied to, or placed exactly over, the tri-
angle DEF, so that the point A may be on D, and the
straight line AB upon DE, the point B shall coincide
with the point E, because AB is equal to DE; and AB
coinciding with DE, AC shall coincide with DF, because
the angle BAC is equal to the angle EDF; wherefore,
also, the point C shall coincide with the point F, because
AC is equal to DF; but the point B coincides with the
point E, wherefore the base BC shall coincide with the
oase EF, and shall be equal to it. Therefore, also, tlio
whole triangle ABC shall coincide with the whole tri-
angle DEF, and bo equal to it ; and the remaining
angles of the one shall coincide with the remaining
angles of the other, and be equal to them — namely,
the angle ABC to the angle DEF, and the angle ACB
to the angle DFE. The postulates do not permit one
triangle to be cut out and placed over the other, there-
fore Euclid only imagina what would be the result
supposing this were to be done. TMs theorem depends
entirely upon the 8th axiom, being, in point of ^'net,
merely what a logician would call the converse of it;
for in the Kth axiom it is stated, that magnitudes which
coincide with one another — that is, which exa4.'tly fill
the same space — are equal to one another ; and in this
theorem, in order to prove them equal| it is proved
that they coincide.

The demonstration of the 6th proposition is the first
instance in Euclid of a species of reasoning termed by
logicians indirect, or a reditclio ad absurdum, and which
consists in proving a theorem to be true by showing
that an absurdity would follow from supposing it false.
The theorem here advanced is, that if two angles of u
triangle be equal to one another, the sides
which subtend, or are opposite to, those
angles, shall also be equal to one another,
and it is demonHrated by the following
indirect mode of reasoning :— Let ABC be
a triangle, having the angle ABC equal to
the angle ACB, the side AB is also equal
to the side AC. For if AB bo not ecmal vT
to AC, one of them is greater than the other. Let AB
be the greater, and from it cut off DB equal to AC, the
leu, and join DC, therefore, because in the triangles

QtOWBWt.

DOC, ACB, da ti (qnal to AC, and DC oommon to
both ; the two lidM DB, BC we equal to the tiro
AC, CB, each to each; but the angle DBC ii alio equal
to the angle ACB; therefore the baee DC of the one
ii equal to the bate AB of the other, and the triangle
DBC if equal to the tricngle ACB, the len to the
greater, which is abiurd. Therefore AB ia not unequal
to AC — that ia, it it equal to it.

The corollary or inference drawn from thii ii, that
all trianolee having equal anglei have alto equal eidei.

The 7tii propoiition affords another specimen of that
kind of indirect demonstration, whioli logicians call
a dilttnma. It is stated in the proposition that, upon
the same base, and on the same side of it, there can-
not be two triangles that have their tides which are
terminated in one extremity of the base equal to one
another, and likewise those which are terminated in the
other extremity equal to one another. This is proved
by examining separately every possible position in
which two equal triangles can be imagined to be placed
so as to have but one base : it is evident that if they
could be MO placed, the vertex of one triangle must be
either without, rithin, or on one side of the other tri-
angle ; each of these suppositions is ixamiued sepa-
rately, and each proved to be impossible ; the reader
is thus brought into a dilemma, having no alternative
but to admit the truth stated in the theorem. There
are many instances in which this species of demonstra-
tion is used by Euclid.

The 8th proposition refers to equal triangles.

The 9th, l^th, 11th, and 12th propositions are useful
practical problems, showing how to bisect (that is,
divide in two) an angle and a straight line; also how
to draw a straight line at right angles to a given
straight line, from a given point in that given line, as
well as from a point without or beyond that given line.

The 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th propositions refer to
the angles of triangles. The next proposition most
worthy of examination is the 26th, which investigates
the same subject as the 4th and the 8th — namely, the
conditions of the equality of triangles. The 4th propo-
sition has already been fully explained. In the 8th it
is proved that if two triangles have two sides of the one
equal to two sides of the other, each to each, and have
likewise their bases equal, the angle which is contained
by the two sides of tbo one shall be equal to the angle
contained by the >wo sides of the other; or if the three
sides of one triangle be respectively equal to those of
another, the triangles are equal in every respect. Thus
let ABC, DEF be two triangles having the two sides
AB, AC equal to the two sides DE, DF, each to each —
namely, AB to DE, j^
and AC to DF ; and ^ ■ <'

also the base BC equal
to the base EF ; the
angle BAC is equal to
the angle EDF, and
the angles at B and C
of the triangle ABC
are respectively equal to those at K and F of the tri-
angle DEF. The 26th propositiou gives still further
information on this useful subject. It shows that if two
triangles have two angles of the one equal to two angles
of the other, each to each, and one side equal to one
side — namely, either the sides adjacent to the equal
angles, or the sides opposite to the equal angles in each,
then shall the other sides be equal, each to each, and
also the third angle of the one to the third angle of
the other; or if two angles and a tide in one triangle
be respectively equal to two
angles and a corresponding
side in another triangle, the
two triangles shall be equal in
every respect. Thus let ABC,
DEF be two triangles which
have the angles ABC, BCA
respectively equal to DEF,
KFD— namely, ABC to DEF, and BCA to EFD; also one
aide equal to one aide; and firat, let thoao aides be equal

whioh uw a^Mtni to tiia anglai tliat »H equal in tii«
two trianglea — namely, BC to EF; the other sides shall
be equal each to each — namely, AB to DE, and AC to
DF; and the third angle BAC to the third angle EDF.
This little group of theorems ia found very useful in
the arts, for it is often requisite to have some rule by
which to be able at once to determine whether two
given triangles are exactly equal to each other; and if
such rules were firmly engraven in the mind of every
mechanic, there is no doubt but that there would be
far less expenditure of time, labour, and money.

In the 27 Ih proposition, the investigation of the pro-
perties of parallel lines is commenced, and this subject
IS continued through the 28th, 29th, 3Uth, and 31st pro-
positions, until suddenly broken off b^ the introduction
of one of the most remarkable propositions in the whole
book — namely, the 32d, in which it is shown that the
three interior angles of a triangle are together equal to
two right angles. This important fact has already been
examined, and therefore we have only to add that it
was diacovered by Pythagoraa, a philosopher of Samoa,
about 600 B. c. The doctrine of parallel lines must not
be dismissed hastily, for, with the exception perhaps of
proportion, no other part of elementary geometry has
created so much perplexity and discussion. The first
two theorems relating to parallel lines are very simple
and easily demonstrated ; for tho ?7th theorem only
affirms, that if a straight line falling upon two other
straight lines makes th<: alternate anglos equal to one
another, these two straight lines shall be parallel. The
28th theorem is equally easj^ of demonstration, as it
merely assumes that if a straight line falling upon two
other straight lines makes the exterior angle equal to
the interior and opposite angle upon the same side of
the line, or makes the interior angles upon the same
side together equal to two right angles, the two straight
lines shall be parallel to one another. To make this
more clear, it may be as well to subjoin an example.
Let the straight line EF, which
falls upon the two straight lines
AB, CD, make the exterior angle
EOB equal to the interior and
opposite angle GHD upon the
same side ; or make the interior
angles on the same side, BOH,
GIID, together equal to two right angles ; AB is parallel
to CD. But the 29th proposition assumes the converse
of this — namely, if a straight line fall upon two parallel
straight lines, it makes the alternate angles equal to one
another; and the exterior angle equal to the interior
and opposite upon the same side ; and likewise the two
interior angles upon the same side together equal to
two right angles. Now the assertion contained in thia
theorem is both easy of comprehension and evident to
the senses ; the difficulty lies in subjecting it to that
I'igorous demonstration to which all theorems roust be
brought before they can be received as mathematical
truths, Euclid has endeavoured to prove it by means
of a reductio adabsurdum, but this species of demonstra-
tion is for many reasons never adopted by good mathe-
maticians, when it is possible to prove the truth of a
statement by any other process of reasoning. Almost
every succeeding mathematician has devised some par-
ticular method of his own to elucidate the doctrine of
parallel lines, but no one has ever yet fully succeeded
in effectin the required demonstration.

The 30th proposition shows that straight lines which
are parallel to the same straight line are parallel to
one another. The following demonstration of this fact
is founded upon the truths previously advanced in the
29th and 27th propositions : —

Let the two lines AB, CD be
parallel to EF; then AB and
CD are parallel to one another.
For because GHK cuts the pa-
rallel straight lines AB, EF, the
angle AGH is equal to tho
angle GHF. Again, because the
attaight line OK cut* the parallel straight liuea EF, CD,

S19

OHAHBERCrS INFORMATIOK fOR THE PEOPUt.

tht kitgla OIIFii equal to th« anj;l«OKD; and it wm
•Imwn that the anffe AOK ii ei|unl to the angle UtlK;
thnrcfore, aim, AOK ii equal to OKU, and they are
alternate anKl<Mi therefore AU It parallel to CU,

The 33d uropoiition retuniet the chain of demon-
■tration, whimh wai luddenljr interrupted by the inter-
tion of the fainout .')'id propotition, and continuet the
iuveitigation of the nropertlet of parallel linet. Thit
■uhject naturally leadi to the examination of parallolo-
gramt; and inde«<l it niiiy be laid that ainioat all the
tucceeding propoiitioni in the first book are devoted
to the invettigation of parallelogranii, and the relation
■ubtitting between the propertiet of parallotograini and
thote of trianglei. In propotition 3.5, for iiittance, it
it alleged that parallelosranit upon the tu lo bate and
between the tame paralleli, are eoual to each other;
in propotition 37, the tame fa<-t ii attinned with rcipect
to trianglet — namely, that trianglei upon the tame bate
and between the game parallel! are equal. I'roposi-
tiont .^(i and .')ll ara the convene of the pr«ce<ling. The
mott celebrated, however, of the tucceeding theorenii,
and the mott ttrikin;;, perhaps, in the whole range of
Keometricitl icienoe, ii the 47th propotition. We tub-
Join the theorem and the example given, and refer
thote who are curiout at to the method of denionttra-
tion to Kuclid himtelf, 'In any right-angle<l triangle,
the louare which it described upon the sides subtend-
ing the right angle, it equal to the tquarci described
upon the tides which contain
the right angle. Let ABC b«
ft right-angled triangle, having
the right anglo BAC ; the
■quare, described upon the side
BC, it equal to the iquarei de-
•cribed upon HA, AC; that is,
the tquare ItK it equal to tlio
two squares BO and CII. I'y-
thagoras had also the honour
of discovering this important
truth. It it related, that immediately u]. ,a the dis-
covery, he was so tn nsported with jov at the value of
the truth, and with gratitude at bemg permitted to
reveal it to the human race, that he sacrificed a whole
hetacomb — that is to say, a hundred oxen, as a testi-
mony of his thankfulness. This story is entirely fabu-
lous; yet something may be gained even from a fable;
and from this fictitious narration we learn, that the
truth now unfolded in the 47th proposition wat held in
the highest estimation, not only by the ditcoverer, but
by the ancientt who invented the fable and who trans-
mitted it to poiterity.

Having now examined Ruclid't method of reasoning,
and the variout formj of logical argumcnti etnployed
by him, and adopted by othcn in demonstrations, it
now only rumaint to glance rapidly at the contents of
the other books.

In the second book, the properties of rectangles and
■quares, formed under given lines, cotutiiutt the prin-
cipal subject of investigation. All the demonstrations
in this book are very simple; many of them consist
chiefly in proving that the figure drawn is really com-
posed of the rectangles alluded to in the proposition ;
and most of the demonstrations are founded unon the
lelf-evident principle, that the whole is equal to all its
parts taken together. The three first projKisitions show
the theory of common mathematical multiplication,
and also that of the mensuration of rectangles in prac-
tical geometry, already explained. The 4tL may be
called a geometrical demonstration of the rule laid
down for extracting the square root to two tenna
in arithmetic and algebra. The 5th, (ith, 7th, and
Uth pro|)ositions show the principles upon which some
useful operations in algebra are conducted ; all the
remaining propositions of this book ate of great value
in trigonometry.

The third book is devoted entirely to the investiga-
tion of the circle, and of various lines considered with
reference to the circle, and drawn within or without
it( circumfeteuw. The propertiet of tugouta and of
620

tangent cirolei are fully considered ; and alto the rela>
tion between angle* which are mad* at the circum-
ference and those made at the centre. This b<H>k it
of gremt ut« in variout mechanical arte; It it alto the
foundation of practical geometry, the circle beine very
frequently uied in the conitruction of complicated
figure!.

The fourth book may becontldered at a continuation
of the third, at it treatt of such figures as cannot )>«
easily drawn without the circle. It eaplaini the methods
of describing regular |)olygons in and about circles;
and convenely, to describe circlet in and about regular
polvgons.

The fifth and sixth books may be considered to-
gether, being Iwth devoted to the same subject namely,
the doctrine of proportion. The fifth book is intro-
ductory to the sixth, for it lays down abstract theorenii
relative to propv.Jon; and the tixth book thowt the
application of tht-se theorenii to geometry. Kvory
brr.nch of mathematical science is more or less dejien-
dent u])on the demonstrations contained in those two
bookt.

The teventh, eighth, ninth, and t^nth bookt are never
put into the handi of ttudentt, being of very little use
in anv part of mathematici. The doctrine of propor-
tion it more or lett dwelt upon in all of theto four
books; and they also treat of the greatest connmin
meature of any two numbers, of square and cube num-
bers, and of incommensurable quantities. The main,
if not the only, object of Euclid, in writing thete four
bookt, teemt to have been to tettle the intricate ques-
tion of incommeniurablei.

The remaining books of Euclid are entirely devoted
to the examination of solids, and to the investigation uf
their properties and relationi.

SOLID UBOMETKV.

It hat been already observed, that all bodies having
length, breadth, and thickness, such as wood, timber,
&c. are called solids; and that the investigation of tliu
properties and relations of the various figures assumed
by such bodies, is the object of solid geometry.

The boundaries of solids are surfaces. Those solids
which are bounded by plane surfaces are called poly.
hedrons, from the Oreek words polui, iiinny, and edra,
a seat. The planei which contain a polyhedron arc
called iti aides or facet; the lines bounding its sides are
termed its edges i and the inclination of any two of tlio
planet it called a dihedral angle.

The meaniug of parallel linet having been already
explained, it is only neceitary to say that the word
parallel has the same signification when applied to
planes at when applik I to lines. Parallel planes, like
parallel lines, would never meet, even if lengthened to
any extent. The ceiling and the floor of a room are
parallel pianos.

A so/i(/ angle it formed by three or more plane
angles meeting in the same point. The comer of a
box, for instance, is a solid angle fonned by the junc-
tion of three angles— namely, the plane angle tenuinat-
ing one side of the up|)er or under surfitce of the box,
and the two piano angles belonging to its two sides.

The generic name of prism it given to all polyhe-
drons contained between two opposite, parallel, and
equal polygons, connected together by parallelogranm.
The common bricks used in masonry are familiar cx-
.'\mples of one species of prism ; the little optical in-
si.'ument used for showing the colours of rays of light,
is another kind of prism — it is a glass, bounded bv two
equal and parallel triangular ends, and three equal mid
timilar lidei. The two ends of prisms are generally
called the terminating planes, and one of them is called
the base. The edges of the sides are called the lateral
edges, and those of the terminating planes are called
the terminating edges. Prisms maybe right or oblique,
regular or irregular. In right prisms, the lateral
edges are perpendicular to the bate; in oblique prisms
the sides are in an oblique position with respect to the
baie. A right prism, having regular polygons for iti

GEOMETRY.

tcnnlnftting nUnai, !i ui<I to he regular: an irrtgular
uriini M one la which th« enda itre irref^uUr polysoiii.
Th» line joining the centre of the trnainatlng iilanet
of » regular priini ii called the pritmatie axit, and the
allitud* or htight of the priini is equal to the length of
thii line.

The parallelofframi which form the lidee of priiuii
are alwayf equal in number to the lides of the base,
and prirmi are claeied accordingly. The priimi which
have a triangular bate are called Iriamjular nriinii;
thoie which have a Quadrangular baM are called quad-
rikUtral priinii, ll»j:iiymal priaiiiv are those having
a hexuon for their baw; and polygonal priinii are
tboie of which the bate ii a polygon. The parallelopiped
and the cube are two quadrangular (>riinit, which, being
uf great importance in the arts, require special atten-
tion. The parallelopiptd is bounded by six four-sided
ilgurei, of which every opposite two are parallel. It is
called rectangular when its base is a rectangle; and
when these six planes are all rectangles placed per-
pendicularly to each other, it is said to be right, and
oblique when the planes are inclined to each other. We
can scarcely look around us without seeing rectangular
narallelopipedoni. lleams of timber, herrn stones, the
box of a gardener's wheelbarrow, the botlies of carts,
are almost invariably rectangular parallelopi])edoni ;
and this form is generally given to houses and to rooms.
It is one of the propositions of the 1 1th book of Kuclid,
that if a solid be contained by six planes, two and two
of which are parallel, the opposite planes are similar
and equal parallelograms; tuus
let the solid CDUH (which is a
parallelopined) bo contained by
the parallel planes AC, GF; BU,
CK; FB, AE; its opposito planes
are similar and equal parallelo-
grams.

Parallelepipeds, when cut by a ^ I''

plane passing through the diagonnls of two of the
opposite planes, are formed into two equal triangular
prisms.

Let AB bo a solid parallelopiped, and DK, CF the
diagonals of the opposite parallelograms AH, OB —
namely, those which are drawn
betwixt the equal angles in each;
and because CD, FG are each of
them parallel to OA, though not
in the same plane with it, CU,
FK are parallel; wherefore the
diagonals CF, DG are in ihe
plane in which the parallels are,
and are themselves parallels; and
the plane CUKF shall cut the solid
AB into two equal parts.

Because the triangle COP is equal to the triangle
CBF, and the triangle DAE to DUE; and that the
parallelogram CA is equal and similar to the opjiosite
one BE; anu the parallelogram UE to CU; therefore
the planes which contain the prisms CAE, CUE are
equal and similar, each to eanh ; and they are also
equally inclined to one another, because the planes AC,
£B are parallel, .-I'l also AF and BD, and they are cut
by the plane CE; therefore the prism CAE is equal to
the prism CBE, and tho solid AB is cut into two equal
prisms by the plane CDGF.

D«if. — The ituitting straight lines of a parallelopiped,
mentioned in the following propositions, are the sides
of the parallelograms betwixt the base and the plane
parallel to it.

Parallelepipeds are equal when they are upon equal
bases and of the same altitude. This fact is very evi-
dent, and is constantly acted upon when the solids
are right; for instance, in making book-Bhelves, each
shelf is made equal to the others — that is, it is made
equally long and equally broad, and has the same alti-
tude or thickness. Solid parallelepipeds which have
the same altitude, are to one another as their bases :
thus let AB, CD be solid parallelopipeds of the same
Altitude; they are to on« another as their bases— that

is, as the base AG to the base CF, to ti the lotid AD
to tho solid CD.

Whatever can bo proved respecting the propertioi
of parallelopipeds, is equally true with respect to thoso
of cubes, because a cube is merely a parallelopiped
with square sides. The dice used by gamblers are
cubes; and tables, footstools, and rooms often receiv*
a cubic form. Just as the unit of measure for plans
surfaces is a square, so the unit of meaiure fur toliiU
is a cube, and the length of each side of the cube is an
inch, a foot, a yard, or any other lineal unit which may
be fixed. To measure the solidity of a solid is to as-
certain how many cubic inches, or cubic feet, kc. are
contained therein. The itolidity of a parallelopiped ie
found by multiplying the length by the breadth, and
the product by the beieht ; tho result gives the number
of cubes contained witnin the figure.

Let /, /, and h, be the length, breadth, or thickness,
and tho height, and v the volume or solid content;
then t' ra lih.

Let AF be a ri(<;ht rectangular parallelepiped. Let
its length AB be 4 lineal units, as 4 inches, its thick-
ness BC 2 inches, and its
height AD 3 inches. The
solid can evidently be di-
vided into three e({ual por-
tions by planes through O
and II, parallel to the base
AC; and into four equal
portions by meansof planes
through K, L, M, parallel
to tlie side BF; and into

two equal portions by a plane through I, parallel to
BD. Each of the small cubes into which the solid is
now divided, is a cubic inch; the number of cubio
inches in the lowest portion IIC is 4 x '2, or t), and in
the second and u])permost portion there aru as many;
and in them all, therefore, then '7" 4 x 2 x 3, or 24
— that is, to find tho cubic contents of the solid, find
the continued product of the length, breadth, and
height.

The solidity of a cube is
found by multiplying the side
by itself, and that product again
by itself; or, literally, by rais-
ing the side to the third power.
Let =s an edge of a cube;
then V = e^.

The reason of the rule is
evident, since a cube is just a A
parallelopiped, whose length,
breadth, and height are equal.

The solidity of all prisms, or of
any parallelopiped, may be found
by multiplying the area of the
base by the height.

Let 6 denote the base, and k the
height ; thsn v = th.

A pyramid is an angular solid, M^
which has a polygon for its base,
and triangles for its sides or faces;
these sides all meet in one point, and form a solid angle,
which is called the vertex of the pyramid. Pyramids,
like prisms, may be either regular or irregular. When
tho base of a pyramid is regular, the line joining itn
vertex or summit is called its axU, and when the axis^ is
perpendicular to the base, it is then a regular pyramid.
They are also said to be triangular, quadrilateral, poly-
gonal, &c. according as the base is a triangle, a quadri-
lateral, a polygon, &c. Tho Pyramids of Egypt are quad-
rilateral, bavuig square bases and foui similar and

621

oHAiiBiBmii nrroiMATios for THI PSOPLI*!.

Mual trluiffalkr ildit. An obalUk !• alio • pynunid,
and hM a wiuan baM and triaoffular sidM ; but th«
heitfht ii r«rv srMt In proportion to the titcnt of the
baM. Th« lolldity of a pyramid it found by niultiplyina
the area of the bate 1 7 the perpendicular height, and
une-third of the product ii the aniwur ; vmm ^bh,

Kxample. — Find the lolidit/
of a rectanfculBr pyramid, the
ieriKth and breadth of it* ba«e
beiiix A mid 4 feet, and iti alti-
tude '20 feet.

i> . I; AA — Ih X 6 X 4 X 20
M l(iU cubit feet.

By a regular lolid ii meant a
■olid bounded by regular plane
figurei, and iti loIid anglei
e<)ual ; that it to lay, a eolid
in which all the lidei are enui-
aii^'iilar and eiiuilateral. It ha*
been proved tliat there can bo
only nve regular lolid*; theie are often culled iMatonic
budioi, becauM Plato wai the first who inreitigated
their propertiei. The namei of theie fire regular
•oliii* are the following ; and it will be obierred that
theie names are fonued by prefixing the Greek nume-
ral indicating the number of sides to the termination
hednm, from tdra ((Jreek), a seat; that ii, a side : —

The tetrahedron ii a regular triangular pyramid,
whose sides are equilateral triauglei. The hexahedron
is a cube. The ootahtdron is contained by eight equi-
lateral triangles. The dodraihedron ii contained by
twelve regular pentagons. The koaahedron is contained
by twenty etiuilaterul triangles. Each side of a regular
■olid, except the tetrahedron, has an opposite face
])arallel to it, and the edgee of these faces are also
respectirelv parallel.

A cylinder differs from a prism in haring a circular
instead of a rectilineal base; it is contained between two
equal and parallel circles and a convex surface. The
line joininff the centres of the two
circles is called the axu. When the
axis is perpendicular to the plane of
the bases, the cylinder is said to be
right. Steam-boilers, the shafts of
circular pillars, the stone of a com-
mon garden roller, the barrel of a
gun, and many other familiar objects,
are cylinders. Combinations of cy-
linders are also very frequently used
in the arts; telescopes and opera-glasses, for instance,
are merely cylinders fitted one within the other, and
of which circular lenses form the base. The solidity
of a cylinder is found in the same way as that of a
prism — namely, by multiplying the area of the base
by the perpendicular height. This rule is founded
upon the theorem that a cylinder and a parallelo-
piped, having equal bases and altitudes, are equal
to one another. A cone, like a cylinder, hae a cir-
cular base, but it terminates in a point like a pynt-
mid ; sugar-loaves are made in the form of conei.
The annexed figure is a cone.
AB is the base, V is the vertex,
and the straight line VD joining
the vertex and the centre of the
base is called the axis. A frus*-
turn of a solid is a portion con-
tained between the base and a
plane parallel to it; thus the
portion EOAB is a frustum of
the cone. When the axis of a
cone is perpendicular to its base,
it is called a right cone. Oth/er
cones are said to be otUque. A
right cone may be described by the revolution of a
right-angled triangle about one cf the sides of the right
angle. It is proved that if a cone and a cylinder have
the same base and the same altitude, the cone is equal
to the third part of the cylinder. From thiefact results
the method usually adopted for aacertaining the Klidity
623

of a eonc. The area of the base Is mulllplled by the
altitude, which, as before shown, is the rule for finding
the solidity of a cylinder; one-third of the result, there*
fore, gives the solidity of the cone.

SPHKRICAL (IIOMRRT.

A mhere or globe Is a solid having one oontlnued
curved surface, and which is conceived to be generated
by the revolution of a semicircle about its diameter 1
balloons and cricket-balls are spheres.

Hpherical geometry consists in the investigation of
the properties of spheres.

Kvery point on the surface of a sphere is equally dis-
tant from a point in the middle of the sphere called
its centre 1 any line drawn from the centre to the cir-
cumference is called a radiu; and any line drawn
through the centre, and terminated at both extremities
bv the circumference, is termed a diameter. When
the diameter is perpendicular to the plane of a circle of
the sphere, it is termed an axie, and the extremities of
the axis are called the potei. Circles of the sphere,
whose planes pass through the centre, dividing the
sphere into two equal parts, are called greut circles,
and all others are imall circles. Hy the distance of
two points on the surface of a sphere, is meant an arc
of a great circle intercepted between them.

A imherioal angle is that formed on the surface of
the sphere by arcs of two great circles meeting at the
angular point, and is measured by the inclination of
the planes of the circles.

A tpherical triangle is a figure formed on the surface
of the sphere by arcs of three groat circles, called iti
nidee, each of which is less than a semicircle.

A quadrantal triangle is that of which one of the
sides IS a ({uadrant.

A lunary surface is a part of the surface of the
sphere, contained by the halves of two great circles.

A segment of a sphere is a part cut off by a plane.

There are several methods of finding the contents or
solidity of a sphere; perhaps the most simple and thu
roost easy to bo remembered
is the following : Find, by
the rules previously given,
the solidity of the circum-
scribing cylinder, as EADF,
which IS a cylinder equal in
diameter and height to the ^
v.ameter of the ipnare; two-
thirds of it will be the
volume of the sphere, be-
cause a sphere is proved to
be equal to two-thirds of its
circumscribing cylinder.

The exterior extent of surface, or convex superficies
of a sphere, may be ascertained by multi|)lying the
diameter of the sphere by its circumference. Thus in
a globe of 20 inches diameter, and 62't)32 circum-
ference, the convex superficies is 12.^6'64 inches, be-
cause 62'R:)2 X 20 = 12j6-b'4. Also, the surface of any
zone of the sphere, as mnn'm', is exactly equal to the
surface of the corresponding zone of the cylinder rsa'r'.

Spherical geometry is of p;reat importance in several
of the arts and physical sciences, and more especially
in astronomy and navigation.

TRIOONOMETRY — LAND-gURVKTINO.

Trigonometry signifies literally the art of measuring
triangles, but with the progress of science the meaning
uf the word has been much extended. Trigonometry is
divided into plane and spherical, according as it is
directed to the investigation of plane or of spherical
triangles.

A fixed relation lubiistt between certain lines drawn
in and immediately round a circle; and it is upon this
relation that trigonometry is founded. Most of these
lines, such as tangents, secants, arcs, chords, &c. have
already been mentioned ; it only remains to add, that
the sine of an arc is a straight line, drawn from one ex-
tremity of the arc perpendicular to the radius passing

OEOMFniT.

Jp"

-''V

/'\

" " " ->

- - . - 1

throiiKh th« other •xtftmtty, or (t it in fact the half
of the choni of ilnublo tho arc. The line, taiigmit, and
•ecant of the cotiipleiiieiit of an arc, are callcil cuiine,
c-utaiiKent, and uotecatit of tha^ arc. Tbit will be better
uiKleritooil hjr carefu'ly examining the annexed figure,
which ii a r«|ireie.. ..(ion of thu
varioue trigonometrical linei,

lU; ii the complement of the
arc A II I UMD U the •u]i|)l«nient
of All; angle KtH.; ii thn t'oinple-
meiit of AOIi, and IIOl) ii the
•uppiement of AOII; 1)K Ii the
ilna of All; AF ii the tangent of
All; OF ii the iocant of All; lo
lit) ii the iine of llC, or the
cosine of All; ('II iu the timgont
of lie, or tho cotangent of AH; nnd 0[I ii the lecant of
BC, or the coeecant of All.

The following ruloi for computation are utcful In
right-nnftled trigonometry; thut i«, in computing the
lides and anglei of right-angled crianglri.

I. When two iidui arc givun, to find an ivnglo.

I Make a given iido radiuv, then the iido made radiui
in to the other given aide ai radiui to tho trlgouomo-
trical name of tlte latter aidc.l

II. When one of the three iidoi and an angle are
given, to find a tide.

I Make any aide radiui, then tho trigonometrical
name of the given aide ii to that of tho reciuircd lidc ai
thu given aide to the required aide,)

Although in thii caio any aide may be made radiui,
it ia preferable to make one of the ildea concerned
rndiua; that ia, either the given or the required aide, us
this introducea the radiui m a term of the proportion,
and iti logarithm being 10, it iim))lifiei tho calcula-
tion.

III. When the two lides are given, to find tho hypo-
tenuao.

I The mm of the iquarei of the two given lidea ia
equal to the aquare of the hypotenuie.)

IV. When the hypotenuae and a aide aro given, to
fmd the other aide.

I The difference between the aquarei of tho hypo-
tenuie imd the given iido, ia equal to the iquare of the
required side, (^)r, the product of the aum and dift'e-
rencu of the hypotenuse and a aide, ia equal to the
aquare of the other lide.l

When the aquare of a aide ia known, its square root
givea the value of the aide.

The firat two rulea are sufficient for the solution of
all the problemi iii right-angled trigonometry ; but the
luit two may sometimei be conveniently employed.

Trigonometry ia one of the moat useful departments
in mathematical science. Iti applications to practical
purpoaei are very extenaive, and it is of great impor-
tance in navigation, engineering, and, as we ahail im
mediately lee, in land-iurveying.

Land-aurveying is the method of measuring and com-
puting the area of any small portion of the earth's
surface, as a field, a fann, an estate, or district of mo-
derate extent. Therr are three distinct operatior^s in
the art of land-surveying, all of which require t.io sur-
veyor to possess a competent knowledge of ari:hmetic,
algebra, and geometry. In the^r«t pla j, ..he several
lines and angles must be measured ; secondly, they
muat be protracted or laid down on paper, so ai to
form a plan or map of the diitrict ; and, thirdly, the
whole area of the district muit be computed by means
of the foregoing operations. In performing the firat
operation, the moat useful instrument ii a chain called
Hunter's chain, from the name of the inventor, the
Rev. Edmund Gunter, who lived about two hundred
yean ago. It ii 22 yardi or 66 feet long, and in com-
posed of 100 equal links, the length of each being 7'92
inches. At every tenth link ii a mark made of brass.
An acre coniiiti of 10 square chains, or 100,000 aquare
liuki. There are 80 chaini in a mile, and 640 acres in
a iquare mile.

Iron piui, about two feet long, called arrowe, with

red handles, ff nIecM of red ointh, atiaehtd lo them,
are uaecl for iticking in tho ground at the end of «a<-h
chain length when meaiuring in the field, leu of them
are commonly uied.

In meaiuring land with the chain, two pertoni are
required, one at each end of the chain ; '.le who

wulki flrit ii, for tho sake of diitinction, called tho
leader, and the other the follower, liinei mtaiured
perpendicularly (o chain linn, to the angular points,
and other pointN of thu boundary of a Held, luch a* to
crooked hedgca, brooki, ^c, are called nffbeli. The rroii-
italf ii uiod in meaiuring otfaeti i it coniiiti of two
bars of brail ])laced at right anglei, with lighti at their
oxtreniitivi, perpendicular to the plane of the ban.
There are narrow iliti at A and (', to which tho eye ii
applied, and wider open-
ings at II and 1), with a
fine wire fixed vc-ticully
in the mid<lle of them.
The croii is lupported on
a itati' K, about H feet
high, which at the lower
end ii pointed and ihod
with brail, ao that it can
eaaily bo ituck in thu
grou 1. The lighti aro
plac <i on the top of tho
itaff', and fixed to tnj
poiition by a icrew F.

A limple ;roii I'laff
may b)> made by cutting
two gro irei with r vw along t' ■ diiiRonttli of a iquare
board, to be fixed on the top o< !ie staif. It can easily
be ascertained if the aighta i at right anglea, by
directing one pair of thei . it All, to one object, and
observing to what object tl; > other pair, CD, aru then
directed ; then , taming the sights * the second
object is seen tl "u ,^ the first pair of Fig.'. '.j AB, if the
firat object is I len i.iiblu through the aecond pair of
sights, and is exact?/ in apparent coincidence with the
wire, the sights ore at right angles; if not, they must
be adjusted.

An inatrument not less important in surveying is the
theodolite. Thin useful instrument, fixed on the top of
a tripod, consists of two graduated circles peri>endicu-
lar to each other; one of which is fixed in a horizontal,
and the other ii. a vertical, plane, and ia used for mea-
suring horizontal and vertical angles.

In the figure of the theodolite here presented, HRS
represents an oblique view of the horizontal circle,
and »iQ» a direct
view of the vertical
one which extends to
little more than a
semicircle. Tho ver-
i'""! circle ia mov-
!■* V about an imagi-
lAty axis, coincid-
ing with the radius
OQ, which, produced,
paaacs through tho
centre C of the hori-
zontal circle. On the
vertical circle ia fixed
a teleacope W, furnished with a spirit-level I ; the
teleacope is connected with a movable radius OA, in
contact with the opposite side of the vertical circle ;
and this radius ii fixed to a vernier o, movable, by
means of a screw, along the limb of the circle. 'When
the centre o of the vernier coincides with the middle
division Q of the circle, the axis of the telescope is
then horizontal, and the instrument thus serves alao
as a spirit-level. A vernier to the horizontal circle is
attached to the vertical circle at e, and is movable
with it. .

To meaiure a horizontal angle subtended at the in-
strument by the horizontal distance of two objects:
Direct the telescope to one of the objects, and observe
the number of degrees at e on the horizontal circle ;

623

CHAMBERS'S INFOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

then while this circle remains fixed by means of a
clamping screw, turn the rertical circle till the other
object is visible through the telescope, and in apparent
coincidence with the intersection of the cross wires, and
note the number of degrees on the horizontal circle at e ;
then the difference between this and the former num-
ber is the required horizontal angle,

To measure a vertical angle : Direct the telescope to
the object whose angle of elevation is required; then
the arc, intercepted between Q and o, is the required
angle. An angle qf depression is similarly measured.

The plane table is frequently used In surveying.
This instrument consists of a plane and smooth rect-
angular board fitted in a
movable frame of wood
which fixes the paper on
the table FT, in the ad-
joining figure. The cen-
tre of the table below is
fixed to a tripod, having at
the top a ball-and-socket
joint, so that the table may
be fixed in any required
position. The table is fixed
lu a horizontal position by means of two spirit-levels
lying in different directions, or by placing a ball on the
table, and observing the position of it in which the
ball remains at rest. The edges of one side of the
frame are divided into equal parts, for the purpose of
drawing on the pai>er lines parallel or perpendicular
to the edges of the frame; and the edges of the other
side are divided into degrees corresponding to a cen-
tral point on the board for the purpose of measuring
angles.

A magnetic compass-box C, is fixed to one side of
the table, for determining the bearings of stations and
other objects, and for the purpose of fixing the table in
the same relative position in different stations. There
is also an index-rule of brass IK, fitted with a tele-
scope or sights, one edge of which, called the fiducial
edge, is in the same plane with the sights, and by which
lines are drawn on the paper to represent the direction
of any object observed through the sights. This rule
is graduated to serve as a scale of equal parts.

A principle of measuring by triangles, which is
alike common to land-surveying and the trigonometri-
cal surveys of engineers, may be comprehended from
the following figure. We wish to find the distance be-
tween two objects that are either invisible from each
Other, or inaccessible in a straight line from each other.

.1- -w.-^^.J»«^.v,« ■■>,>. -^\

I^et A and C be the two objects inaccessible in a
straight line from each other, on account of a marsh.
Measure two lines AB, BC to the objects and the
contained ■oigle B. In the tria.:igle ABC, two sides
AB, BC, an J the contained angle B, are known; hence
AC may be found.

Such a problem as the above is common in measur-
ing heights and distances ; and it will be understood,
that the principle of throwing the area of any given
field or fet of fields into triangular spaces, is that ])ur-
susd in all proceskea of land-measurement. In most
instances fields are irregular in form; their outlines
being often bent, with a greater width at one place
than another. In such cases, after measuring the
areas of the triangles, the odd pieces at the sides re-
quire to be measured, and their aggregate area added
to the whole. We may illustrate the process of sur-
veying OS follows: —

The angular points of the large triangles or polygons,
624

into which a field is to be divided for the purpose of
taking its dimensions, are called stations, and are de-
noted by the mark q; thus o, is the first station; 09
the second; and so on. The luies joining the stations,
and which are measured by the chain, are called chain
lines or ttation lines.

II Divide the field into triangles, or into triangles and
quadrilaterals, the principal triangles or quadrilaterals
occupying the great body of the field, and the rest of it
containing secondary triangles and trapezoids formed
by offsets from the chain lines. Measure the base and
height, or else the three sides of each of the principal
triangles, then calculate their areas by the rules in
Mensuration of Surfaces, and also the offset spaces,
and the sum of all the areas will be that of the entire
field.ii

Example 1. — Find the contents of the adjoining field
from these mpasuremcnts, A being the first, and B the
second statiou . —

Offsets.

pC = 141 to left.
hK =z im to right.
t'D =3 167 to left.
IF = 172 to right.

= 211,'iO

= 137(i7(l
= 2»7-.>t

= sauo

= lOofl.W
= 24,')4(1

On chain line,
Aff = 1.50
Ah = 323
At = 597
Ak = 624
AB = 769

The double of the areas of the component triangles
and trapezoids are found, in order that there may bo
only one division by 2 — namely, that of their sum.

gi = At — Ag = 447, »B = AB — Ai = 172, and
M = AA — A/i = 301,BA = AB — AA;= 145.

Twice the area of the
triangle AgC = Ag'gC = 150 x 141
trapezoid CgiD = gi (Co + Hi) = 447 :

(141 -f- 167)
triangle Di'B = Bi't'D b 172 x 167
triangle AAE = Ah • AE = 323 x 180
trapezoid hKVk = hk (/tE + kV) = 301

(180-1- 172)
triangle BfcF = Bi-*F = 145 x 172

Twice area = 3765li'2
And area = 188291 = 1 acre 3 roods 21-26 poles.

These admeasurements, instead of being written out
as above, are generally registered in a tabular form.
A field-book, which is used to enter these measure-
ments, is divided into three columns. The difi'eruiit
distances on the chain line are written down in the
middle column, and in the right and left-hand columns
the offsets are inserted, with any remarks that may be
made. The measurements on the chain lines are writ-
ten iu order upwards in the middle column, the first
being written at the foot of the colunm, as the surveyor
can thus more conveniently compare the measurements
with the imaginary lines in the field.

In surveying a whole country by trigonometricid
measurement, or in engineering plans for canals, rail-
ways, and roads, it is necessary to make allowance for
the earth's convexity in all the calculations of levels.
The degree of convexity, or departure from a true level,
is reckoned to be about 7 inches and 9-lOths in tlio
space of a geographical mile. (See Hvdrostatics, No.
15.) In land-measuring, the scale of operations is
ordinarily too limited to require any such allowance
for difference of levels.

We have now, as far as our limits would admit, pre-
sented an outline of the methods pursued iu land-sur-
veying; and to those who design following out the study
of this, as well as other branches of theoretic and prac-
tical mathematics, we recommend a regular couriic
of instruction from Mr Bell's excellent treatises in
CiiAMnER.s'8 Kdixational CounsE — works so cheap, as
to be within every one's reach.

DRAWING-PAINTING-SCULPTURE.

DRiwiNO is an iinitativo art, by which the forms, posi-
tions, and relations of objects are represented on a flat
surface. The faculties employed in this, as in other
imitative arts, are possessed in a certain degree by all
persons. Some possess these faculties in so high a
degree, as to become fitted to exercise them as a pro-
fession, for the gratification of mankind at large. In
others, they are manifested sp niuderately, that a pro-
tracted cBbrt to make such persons become tolerable
draughtsmen would only be labour thrown away. The
majority of mankind, however, are so far endowed, as
to bo able, when instructed, to delineate any simple
object, and to enjoy much pleasure from higher djli-
neations produced by others.

The practice of elementary drjiwing at school, hitherto
greatly overlooked, is calculated to produ"» the most
beneficial result'. As regards those who possess the
faculties for design in a high degree of excellence, early
practice will awaken those faculties, and furnishing
tliem with stimulants to progress, secure the benefit of
their ultimate exercise for the community. Lesser
degrees of excellence will also be developed — such as
would in vain perhaps essay excellence in the higher
walks of art, but might become of incalculable value in
connection with certain branches of manufacture.

As a means of elevating tastes and desires, and
thereby embellisl- Ing what might be otherwise a rou-
tine of commonplace existence, drawing appears in its
most interesting light. The person who has acquired
11 knowledge of botany, feels a new pleasure in exa-
mining the parts of a hitherto unseen plant; he who has
acquired u knowledge of geology is interested in pass-
ing along a road, the side of which displays a deep sec-
tion of strata, or from which he may view various grani-
tic elevations ; he who has acquainted himself with the
principles of machinery, experiences an enjoyment in
contemplating the intricacies of some great engine which
another knows nothing of ; and in the same manner he
who has studied the art of drawing, discovers a source
of new and innocv :it gratification in the innumerable
forms and tints of external nature. Things formerly
passed with a careless eye and a vacant mind, then
assume a character which arrests attention and awakens
tliought. Those faculties of the mind which perceive
and appreciate the figure, colour, and arrangements of
objects, and trace in all a natural and appropriate
beauty, spring up from a dormancy which might have
otherwise known no interruption ; a new association of
our mysterious being with the physical world around
us is practically established; and the value of existence
becomes by just so much enhanced. Not surely that
it is desirable that an absorbing interest should be
created in all minds respecdng the outward aspect of
nature to the neglect of the more serious afiairs of life.
All that can be contended for is, that as many as pos-
sible should be rendered capable of looking with plea-
sure, instead of indifference, upon the beauties of nature,
so that thev may realise the benefit of this part of the
intellectual and sentimental powers which have been
conferred upon them ; a portion of their nature which,
like others, may be abused, but in its moderate use
is not only a source of innocent pleasure, but may be-
come the means of anticipating and supplanting many
pursuits of a less worthy character. Nor, while the
art is perhaps chiefly acquired \rith these views, may
it be without some results of a more directly useful
kind. In many situations — when wandering in our own,
or roaming in foreign countries — we may see objects
of which we would be glad to carry away some memo-
randum, iiiid of which the slightest pencil sketch would
be sufiicient to awaken a recollection at any other time
And yet, for want of a few elementary lessons in draiv-
No. 90.

ing, many of even those who travel for the purpose of
informing the public, are unable to commemorate such
objects, or, at the Lest, can give only a few rude scratches
in outline, which a professional artist has afterwards to
fashion into shape — a shape, of course, in which correct
representation is not to be looked for. In this point of
view, drawing takes its place, as a useful irt, by the side
of writing, being, like it, a means of description, and
one which may occasionally be even more serviceable
than that art, though certainly not capable of so gene-
ral on application.

Referring to the volumes on Drawing in our Eddca
iiONAL CouttSE for a methodic series of instructions, our
design on the present occasion is to present a popular
view of what may be done by comparatively unlearned
persons to acquire a knowledge of the art, including
perspective, which is the foundation of all pictorial deli-
neation. It will be understood, then, that our obserra-
tions are addressed directly to the pupil.

DRAWING.
Drawing is effected by various materials, as chalk,
black-lead, or coloured pencils, Indian ink, &c. Draw-
ings of a simple kind are made principally on white paper
or Bristol board, but also sometimes on tinted papers,
in which case the lighter parts are brought out by white
crayons. Commence a study of the art by acquiring
ease of hand, and in fact learn what the hand can do
by its different evolutions. B'or this purpose, drawing
lines with chalk on a black board is perhaps the best
exercise. Either, therefore, on a board with chalk, or
on paper with a pencil, learn to make drawings of lines,
straight, curved, or a modification of eithei . Observe
how much more beautiful is the appearanc/ and effect
of a curve in comparison with a straight lii e ; and how
nature delights in this waving of forms, nf which we
have examples in the bending of bought in trees, the
serpentine winding of rivers, and the curvilinear out-
lines of animals.

You may begin the drawing of objects by copying
other drawings ; but this species of exercise can only
muKe you familiar with the manner in which lines
answer the purpose of representation. To be master of
the art, you must throw aside all drawings or copies,
and learn to draw by your own ingenuity from tangible
objects in nature and art. In this study the hand is
taught to obey the conceptions of the mind. When, for
example, we see a chair standing on the floor, we ob-
serve its shape or figure, its line of back, seat, legs, and
all other parts about it. We then take a pencil, and
bending the mind intensely on the form of the chair,
try to define all the lines of the object on the paper or
board. The more perfectly that the hand can obey the
direction of the mind, while bent in thought on the
object, so will the drawing more resemble the original
in all its details.

The pupil, therefore, must be taught to call up the
whole power of his mind respecting the appearance of
an object, when he wishes to represent it by a drawing.
On this, indeed, may be said to rest the fundamental
principle of delineation in all its branches. No one can
possibly attain even a mediocrity in the art, who does
not, less or more, possess this power of recalling images
to the mind, and of training his hand to act in strict
conjunction with its dictates. The hand is only tho in-
strument employed by the imitative faculty, and can do
nothing useful without the strong concurrence of the
will. Accomplishment in penmanship, and every other
art in which design or figure is an element, is founded
on this fundamental basis.

A plan of instruction in drawing has been lately
introduced from the Normal School of Versailles into

625

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

England, and promises to be exceedingly suitable either
for large classes or for private study. The pupils draw
from solid forms, models of objects, not from drawings;
* therefore every line they make is a result of intelli-

Sence and a teat of knowledge. Before they begin to
elineate, they are made to understand what they are
about to do, and the scientific rule they are taught to
exemplify. This is, in our opinion, the only sound and
true theory of elementary training in the science of
drawing ; for with the art this introductory course has
nothing more to do than exercising the hand; its object
is limited to teaching the pupils to see correctly the
apparent forms of objects, and the seeminff direction of
lines, and to know the optical laws by which the real
forms and actual direction of lines appear differently
f the eye, according to the angle of vision under which
they are seen. The pupils are not at first required to
draw evenly or neatly, but only to express intelligibly,
by rude lines, their compreheusiou of the rule exem-
plified by the model.' — Art Union. It may be added,
that all such lessons will fall short of their desired end,
unless the pupil acquire a proper idea of relative pro-
portion in parts. He must learn to give each member
its due size and no more, and to put all together to
form a harmonious whole. Beginners usually commit
ludicrous blunders in this respect, making a man's head
as large as his whole body, or the windows of a house
three times larger than they should be. Experience,
and an attention to the following rules, will remedy
these misconceptions : —

In pursuing the elementary lessons on solid objects,
an idea of perspective will be unconsciously gained. It
will be noticed that strong outlines mark the objects or
parts of objects nearest the eye or in the foreground;
while to make parts retire, or have an appearance of
being at a greater distance, the lines must be made
light, and the representations smaller. It is a matter
of first consequence to bring out effects on a broad scale,
not by repeated small markings, but by a comparatively
few bold lines of greater and lesser thickness. You
will observe that an object may be represented in two
ways — first, by mere outlines describing its figure; and,
second, by introducing strong shades among the out-
lines. Take, for illustration, fig. 1, Here the blades

of a plant are represented by a few thin and thick lines
properly disposed, and by a little shading being thrown
in to bring out the effect.

Plg.».
A just idea of the value of lights and shades may be
■aid to be the beginning of all excellence in pictorial
delineation ; and you are recommended to lose no oppor-
626

tunity of acquiring it. The most simple objects afford
examples. In fig. 2 we have a group of this nature,
being a stone, a piece of broken wood, and the leaves
of a tall grassy plant, such as may be observed in a field
or by the roaaside.

l«Ir D. R. Hay, in his excellent work, ' The Laws of
Harmonious Colouring,' has the following practical
observations on the method to be followed by young
men in gaining a knowledge of drawing, with reference
to patterns, decorations, and ornamental designs : —
' The course of study I am about to point out is within
the reach of all — even those in the must humble situa-
tions of life. They will find it of easy acquirement, and
a source of continual enjoyment, in the improved me-
dium through which it will lead them to view the most
ordinary productions of nature. She shall be their in-
structor ; for all that I ci>'n pretend to do, is to point
out to them a practical '^ode of receiving her lessons.
To the uninitiated I therefore address myself ; and let
them not be dissuaded from beginning by having no
predilection for the study — the more they persevere, the
more they will love it.

In the first place, your attempts ought to be of the
most simple nature, and on as large a scale as you can
conveniently adopt : therefore begin by procuring a
black painted board or slate, of from two to three feet
square, and with white chalk practise the drawing of
squares, circles, and ovals, without any guide to your
hand. You may make yourself copies of these figures
by the ordinary rules. VVhen you are tolerably perfect
at these, upon the proper combination of which depends
all linear harmony, you may practise in the same way
trianpfles, hexagons, octagons, and such other figures
as arise from the various combinations of the straight
line. Next, by your circular and oval lines, you may
form crescents, circular and flattened volutes, regular
undulations, and other figures, which arise out of their
various combinations, first making an accurate copy to
yourself of each figure by measurement, and continuing
to practise until you can fonn it by the eye with per-
fect ease. Avoid forming your figures by little bits at
a time ; do each line as much as possible by one sweep
of the hand. When you find yourself pretty perfect in
this kind of practice, I would recommend you at once
to draw fn m nature. You may take for your first sub-
ject a cabbage leaf, the larger the better ; and perse-
vere in copying it, full size, until you can represent it
accurately in outline, with its principal fibres. You
may then vary your practice by other simple subjects
of a similar kind, until you find you can do them all
with ease.

Before endeavouring to draw more than one leaf at
a time, you must know a little of perspective. The
most simple mode by which you will attain such know-
ledge of this art as will be most useful for your present
purpose, is to hang a circular object, such as a hoop,
between you and the window; set it a-moving gently
round, recede a little from it, and you will find that, as
one side of it retires and the other comes forward, the
circle which it describes becomes narrower and nar-
rower, until it disappears altogether, and leaves nothing
but a dark line, as if a stick instead of a hoop were
hanging before you. I recommend vou to do this be-
tween you and the window, because the hoop will appear
like a dark line, and you will thereby be better able to
mark the change th.-.t takes place in the shape of the
circle. Fix it in \ .trious positions, and draw from it,
and observe that it is a different figure from an oviil.
You may now hang up your cabbage leaf, or that of any
other large and well-developed vegetable, and ynu will
observe the same change in its figure as it turns round.
Make an outline of its shape while its front is half turned
from vou, then bring it from between you and the light,
and place it where the light will fall upon it, with its face
half turned from you, as when it hung belore the win-
dow. Take your outline, and within it draw the prin-
cipal fibres as you see them. To do this properly will
require a great deal of practice, but it will pave the way
to your being able to draw (he most complete groups of

DRAWING.

to be of the

flowen and foliage that can be placed before you. You
may now hang before you a small branch of any tree
or plant, with two or more leareg upon it — the larger
the leaves are the better — and endeavour to make out-
lines of them, varying their shape according to their
perspective, as already described ; be particular on this
point, for a great deal depends upon it.

You may now lay aside vour chalk and slate, and
provide yourself with a few sheets of common cartridge-
j „i>or, and some pieces of common charcoal — that mwle
from lime-tree is the best. Stretch a whole sheet of
your cartr'Jge-paper upon your board by a wafer or a
little paste at each comer. Place before you a cabbage,
caulitiower, stalk of dock-blades, or any such larce
vegetable, and they will be more picturesque if the
outer leaves are hanging loose. Copy these carefully in
outline, using your charcoal gently, that any inaccuracy
maybe easily dusted off. A large thistle with its foliage
is likewise an excellent example, but more difficult.
Indeed you cannot go wrong in your choice — hemlock,
fern, nettle, are all worthy of your study. From these
the richest and most effective of Gothic ornaments were
taken by our forefathers. The more you study such
subjects, the more beauty and grace you will find in
their forms.'

When a considerable advance has been made in the
elementary department of drawing, it will be proper to
go on to the higher stage of perspective drawing, in
exact accordance with the rules on the subject. For
this you will require the following

Requisites for Drawing. — Among the various at Jcles
required in systematic drawing, the first place may be
given to a wooden board of a convenient size, or about
two feet in length by eighteen inches in breadth; it
should be perfectly smooth, and perfectly squared. On
this board :.he paper on which the drawing is to be
executed should be property fastenea. This is done by
damping the surface of the paper with a wet sponge,
and after it has fully expanded, fastening it down with
a little thin glue round the edges; it should be laid on
the board evenly, and left to dry in the air.

The next requisite is a flat rule called a T-square;
this is a thin straight-edge, or rule, attached at right
angles to a short piece of wood much thicker, so that
when the cross-piece is moved along any side of the
board, the rule will project across the paper, and by its
edge pencil lines may be drawn straight from left to
right and from top to bottom. To test the accuracy of
the square, let other lines be made from the opposite
sides of the board ; and if they agree with the former
lines, by being parallel to them, all is right. On these
guiding lines, or rather indications, the correcttess of
the drawings will materially depend.

To these must be added a pair of compasses — an in-
strument so well known, that it is only necessary to
remark, that the points should be just as sharp as to
hold on the paper without piercing it. The compasses
should be held lightly by tvo fingen and the thumb,
and moved with the least pressure which the operation
may require.

These simple implements will be sufficient, until a
knowledge of the art suggests the necessity for a case
of mathematical instruments.

Paper may bo purchased of all qualities; for early
practice, it is sufficient for it to be wnat is called hard ;
that is, able to endure being written upon with common
pen and ink.

Black-lead pencils are of various qualities : a soft
pencil gives off the lead too freely, and will not retain
its point; a hard pencil wounds the surface of the paper,
and cannot be easily obliterated; therefore the medium
pencil is best for drawing perspective. The wood should
be carefully cut from its point, and the lead sharpened
by being gently rubbed on a file, which produces a
better point than can be formed with a knife.

Indian-rubber, or a clean crumb of bread, to take
out lines incorrectly drawn, is also necessary.

Every student of drawing is supposed to be acquainted
with the form of acute, obtuse, and right anglee, circles.

ellipses, and other simple mathematical figures, and
therefore we need occupy no time here in describing
them : those who wish to refresh their memory on these
matters are referred to the article Qeohetrt,

PERSPECTIVE DRAWING.

The study of perspective is commenced by acquiring
a knowledge of certain principles, and the technical
appellations by which they are described. The first
thing which you will attend to is the existence in all
correct perspective drawings of a horizontal line. The
horizontal line ia always the height of the spectator's
eye, and of course fields or hills may be above this
imaginary line in a picture. In the following diagrams
the horizontal line is always marked H. There is a
certain point on the horizontal line to which the eye
is directed; this is called the point of sight, and in the
following diagrams is marked P.

As noticed in the article Optics (No. 1 6), the apparent
magnitude of any object is influenced by its distance
from the eye : if near, the object seems large; if remote,
it is small. It is, then, a most important principle in
perspective drawing, to regulate the size of the objects
marked according to the distance at which we wish
them to appear. We have a good example of this
gradual diminution of objects as they recede from the
eye, in the manner in which a long avenue of trees
seems to close in a point at its further extremity. It
would be possible for a person, unskilled in the rules of
perspective, and merely by thv ;al directions al-

ready given, to give a represent n pa^er of the

manner in which objects thus s . 'iminish, as, for

example, a row of posts; but as ^hematical science
gives exact rules on the subject, am one need trust to
chance, but appeal to principles of unerring accu-
racy. We crave attention to these principles, which
we endeavour to illustrate by certain lines in the dia-
grams which follow : —

Figure 3 represents a quadrangular drawing, of
which AD is the base. Across the picture, at rather

Fig. 3.

more than a third of the heiglit, is a line H, represent-
ing the horizontal line. On the horizontal line, a point
at P is the point of sight, and to this point all ob-
jects are diminished in proportion as they approach it.
Thus a road represented by the two lines C D tapers to
a point at P, and a row of posts E diminish towards the
same centre of observation.

The horizontal line which, it will be perceived, re-
gulates some important points in pictorial delineation,
may be placed high or low at pleasure; but it is gene-
rally regulated in its elevation by the nature of the
subject to be drawn. If placed high up, it leaves too
small a proportion of sky, and produces what is called
a bird's-eye view; if placed near the base, unless the
scene be mountainous, the proportion of sky will be too
great. In general, the horizontal line should be drawn
at about one-third of the height of the picture. The
point of sight may also be fixed at pleasure; but its
best situation is removed from the centre towards one
of the sides; if directly in the centre, the perspective
would have too formal an eflfect.

When an object having angles, as a box, stands on a
base parallel to the horizon, and two of its sides or sur-

6'27

CHAMBERS'S INFORUATION FOR THK PEOPLE.

facet CAn be leen, that which if fartheit from the eye
will recede according to the rituation of the point of
sight. Place a box, a* in
fig. 4, immediately in front
of the eye; AB ii iti bottom
or base, and EV ia the far-
ther edge of its top. AB,
the base, being parallel to the
horizontal line H, the point of
sight will be at P, and the
visual rayg from the upper
comers of the box will centre
in P, because the «ve is in
front, and above the object.
Any alteration of the position Fig- *•

of the box, or the eye, will conseque. ' 'y require a cor-
responding arrangement of the laws of perspective.

Place the box toward the farthe sid? of the table,
ir.mediately in front, and lower tLu eye HI the hori-
zontal line is one-third down the 'ox, when the top
will be lost sight of ; there let the eye be fixed, by
resting the chin on any convenient object, and the
front, or only one side of the box, will be seen. Then
let the box be moved to the left, in a straight line, the
position of the eye being retained, and a second side of
the box will come into sight ; its receding lines or
visual taya will then be centered in the altered point
of sight, and the side in front will retain its form, be-
cause its base is parallel with the borizon. When this
experiment has been made, and the situations of the
box and the eye have been considered — presuming the
box to have been a cube — proceed to ascertain the mode
of representing this object according to the i-ules of
perspective, referring to the natural appearance of the
box occasionally, the more effectually to fix the mutual
resemblances in the mind. Fig. 5 will show the pro-
cess by which all the particulars may be demonstrated.
Presuming the i>uper is fastened down on the drawing-
board, the T quare and pencil ready, commence thus :
Apply the T-square and draw the base line A B, and
also the boundary of the picture C D. Then draw the
horizontal line II across the paper; this may be fixed
at pleasure, but parallel to A B. Then find the half of
the base A B, and draw a perpendicular beneath the
picture to O, and on it place the profiled angle of 60
degrees, just at that distance which, by continuing the
sides of the angle, they will intersect the extremities of
the basi3, and together form an equilateral triangle, as
A B : this nmst be strictly attended to. Now, as be-
fore observed, the point of sight is better when removed
from the centre of the picture; and taking a station to
the right, by a horizontal line from to S, this be-

FiK.J

comes the station whence the picture is seen, and the
point of sight is therefore found by the perpendicular
line from S to P on the horizontal line. Now, as a
vanishing point is required to determine the width of
the receding side of tne box, the profiled angle of OU
degrees is to be placed at S on the perpendicular F S,
and the side line continued until it intersects the hori-
zontal line at V, which fixes the vanishiue point : this
also must be strictly attended to. It will be observed
that the angle at S is one of 45 degrees, being the half
of the profiled angle of 90.

We now call attention to the situation of «he eye,
which is always on a level with the horizontal lino;
therefore the true position of S is immsdiately in front
of P, or, as if the perspective lines beneath the picture
could be raised up to the level of S, and fixed at thf>t
distance from the picture, to show the true situation
of the eye when viewing the object. The front square
shape of the box may then be drawn in, occupying less
than half the base of the picture, in order to show the
perspective, as at fig. 3; then from the nearest per-
pendicular of the box draw the visual ray» from the
top and the bottom of the square to P, which give the
diminutions. Now a line drawn from the comer of
the box near A to the vanishing point V, will intersect
the diminishing line, which gave the receding base of
the box at L; and a perpendicular line from L to K
on this intersection, will give the true representation
of the square box as seen in perspective. If this were
a cube of gloss, the farther sides would be seen, as
shown by the finer lines in the diagram.

Repeat this study in different sizes, referring to the
natural appearance of the box, in order to feel, as well
as see, the coincidence between that and the object
produced by the rules of linear perspective. It is of
importance that this diagram should be thoroughly
understood, because many of the rules employed m it
are frequently required.

The boundary of a picture, or the plane, may be of
any proportions. The base is marked, in fig. 3, A B.
The perpendicular, from the middle of this base line,
assists in finding the situation for the angle of 60 de-
grees O, the width of the base, measured from the
extremities to the perpendicular 0, forming an equi-
lateral triangle, as A O B. This is a rule, whatever
may be the size of the picture; it also shows the proper
distance at which a picture should be viewed. This
expanse of vision, at an angle of GO degrees, is marked
in the diagram O, and places the point of sight in the
middle of the picture, which is very often objection-
able; therefore a line parallel with the base is drawn
from 0, and on this line the better station is taken,
which is marked in the diagram S. Now the
horizontal line H having been taken at plea-
sure, a perpendicular drawn into it from S
will give the point of sight at P, into which
the visual rays are drawn that regulate the
receding' side of the object. The vanishing point
V is entirely distinct from the point of si^ht, of
which there can be but one; but vanishing
points may be numerous. This, marked in the
diagram V, is of great consequence, for by it is
determined the proper width of the object,
by the line which intersects the visual ray from
the base of the box A to V, as at L ; and here
the perpendicular to K, which intersects the
upper visual ray, completes the perspective
form of the object.

No objects better exempliiy rules in perspec-
tive than articles of household furniture, buch
a!> boxes, chairs, tables, and chests of drawers.
We direct your attention to the following llus-
trations: — Fig. 6 exhibits a parlour chair and
a footstool. Observe that the chair stands with
the corner of its seat nearest to the spectator,
the point of sight being in the middle of the

picture. The receding sides of the chair have their respective parts regulated by diagonals to their vanishitij;
points. The footstool stands on a line parallel to the base, and therefore its visuul rays tend to the point
of sight in the centre of the picture, These may prepare the mind of the student to consider that objects,

DfeAwnro.

«h(in differently situated, hwe each their "vanishing
points regulated by the angle at which they are viewed.

wa'ia the spectator, both sides will require their re-
ceding points, which are determined by the Taiiishing
points V 1 and V 2. Such familiar objects should b«
drawn, by which the more readily to fix in the mind of
the student the leading principles of linear perfective.

It will be seen that, when an object has its base
line parallel to the horizon, the point of sight is in the
picture, and that it is arranged in agreement with the
angle under which the object is viewed. Thus if it be
an object which has four sides, and one of those sides
be immediate! in Aront of the eye, the visual rays will
be hidden, because the point of sight is in or behind the
object. It will also be seen that if the object be
moved on either side, or the point of sight be altered
by a change of station, the visual rays determine the
receding side of the object immediately on f second
side being seen.

If the base line of an object be removed from its
parallel to the base line of a picture, the angle under
which the object is viewed becomes altered in strict
conformity with its changed position, the particulars of
which the student may ascertain by placing an object
in the various positiuns.

Suppose a chest of drawers, or a cube, to be placed
and seen as in fig. 3, and while the nearest comer is to
act as a pivot, the end near A to be moved so as to

Fig. «.

We recommend you, on all occasions, to draw the
horizontal line so far on either side, that it will be in-
tersected by the diagonals, which are to be drawn at an
angle of 90 degrees from the station, into the horizontal
line, where they determine the vanishing points. These
are only indicated in the diagrams by 'be direction of
those lines, and the words ' to V 1 ' or ' to V 2.'

In fig. 6, the base line A IJ is drawn, its centre deter-
mined, and the perpendicular drawn to O ; the angle
of GO degrees is taken in agreement with the base line,
making an equilateral triangle, and the point of si^ht
P is fixed on the horizontal line H. The vanishing
points are found by the angle of 90 degrees at O, pro-
jected on either side to V 1 on the left, and V 2 on the
right, a? before described. All the diminutions of cor-
responding ornaments on the hack and front legs of the
chair are drawn t<^ V 2, while the siuc of the chair is re-
gulated by V 1 . The footstool is placed parallel to the
base on the line C D,and its diminution regulated by the
rays E P and F P. The diagonal G from the leg of the
footstool D, to the vanishing point V I, would determine
the square of the stool, or the position of the farther
leg, at the point where it intersected the ray C P.

Fig. 7 shows the perspective lines required to repre-
sent a writing-desk placed diagonally on a table which
stands on the base line. The base of the picture is
drawn as A jB, ihe centre is taken, and a perpendicular
drawn to 0, for the angle of 60 degrees. The hori-
zontal line is drawn at H. The parallel is drawn from
O to S, and there the perpendicular to the horizontal line
fixes the point of sight at P. Then the angle of 90
degrees is taken at S, and the sides being projected
to the horizontal line, gives the vanishing points V 1
Oil the left and V 2 on the right. Now the table
being seen in front, or on the base line, the visual rays
from the legs and the top are drawn to the point of
sight P. The table being supposed to be a parallelo-
gram, its side, seen in perspective, will be about half
Its width seen in front ; therefore let half the space
seen in front be set off from the leg on the right ; and
the diagonal from that half to V 1 will give the dimi-
nution of the side of the table, where it intersects the
ray from the front leg to the point of sight P, at R.
A parallel line from this to the ray from the other front
leg will give the situation T for the most distant leg.
The writing-desk being presented with its corner to-

Fig.7.

cause a space between the base line of the object at that
end and the fixed base line of the picture, the angle of
vision would require that the base and top lines of the
object should have their vanishing points. The object
could be moved thus at different times, until that which
in the diagram is the receding side would become the
front, and each position would require a diagram ; but
the student is presumed to have become acquainted with
the fact, that at each pause in the movement of this
object on its pivot, there will be exhibited a diminution
on one side proportionate to the increase of the other
side ; until, by continuing these rotatory movements
of the object, ^,hat side which was at first presented
obliquely, becomes the front, and its base parallel to
the base of the picture. The original front of the
object, by the revolving movements, will have been lost
or hidden, exactly in proportion as the receding side
advanced to the front. Thus the vanishing point ex-
tended as *he advancing side became more evident,
just in proportion as the receding side diminished.
Make tnese experiments, and observe, on the first
change of position deviating from a parallel with the
base of the picture, that the vanidiiug point V 1 waa-

629

w/mi

: y^.

CHAMBEBS'B INFOBMA«Oi<. J'OB THE PEOPLB.

icquirad, and m fu reittoTed on th« horicontol line on
the left, M perhapi to require an ang] .< of 80 degreet
at tiia itation, wli:io V ' on the 'i, ht i-vald then re-
4alre an angle of iO degrees. An^ aub.' -fuent change
of poiition in the object will a'ter the iMigles for the
rMpective vanishing points, and these toi^'jtner always
maKing an angle of "'* degrees.

Fig. 8 shows the method by which tho nituationi of
windows may be pro^ierly drawn in the representation
of a house, seen obliquely. Draw the base line AD:
find the angle of 00 degrees on the perpendiculLi.r from
the centre, and mark ^hn station 8: determine the
horizontal line II, and the point of sigh^ uii it, perpen-
dicular to S: find the angle of 90 defir.'es, and draw
the lines to the vanishing points V 1 and >' 2: draw the
nearest perpendicular of the home C, ant! lix where the
nearest windows are placed, ahii heir heijjht and width,
D£: draw these diagonals to tho vunishii.,' point V 'i;
they regulate the diminuti<,-n of the heights of all the
windows: draw also the cornice and the bail" lines; then
draw a fine line !■ parallel to the horizon, auil touching

Fig. 6.

the perpendicular C; then, with the corapaases, take
the measure of the space between the perpendicular C,
which is the comer of the house, and the edge of the
window I), and mark it on the line F as at 1 ; then take
the width of the window E, and mark it us at 2. It is
better to have a second pair of compasses to prevent
mistake in the alternate alteration that is required, or
the spree for the windows may be marked with the
point ol a needle on a piece of writing-paper, and then
marked off carefully on the line F; then the compasses
will mark the space between the windows only. The
small projection which separates the centre from the
wings must be noticed, as at O; then the space with
compasses 4, then the window 5, then the space 6, then
the window 7, then the space 0, then the window U, then
the space 10, then the window II, then tho space 12,
then the window 13, then the space 14. This being the
farther extremity of the centre of the house, the cor-
responding projection to U nmst be noticed, aa being
BO nmch of the next space hidden behind the projecting
centre; it will therefore be marked 15, then the window
16, then the space 17. These compose tho spaces and
widths of windows as seen in the front of the house ;
and it must be mentioned, that the points which have
been made on the line F, must bo perfectly true on tho
line, or the truth of the diminution will be impaired.
Now "ssume a point about tho middle of the hoiue, on
30

the horizontal line, as at K, and draw diagonals front
all the points made on the line F into the point K|
observing that the point of the pencil runs into both
at every line. A needle may be placed at K, against
which the straight-edge may be pressed, to assist in
drawing the diagram correctly. Now the diagonals
which regulated the diminution in the height of these
windows, as drawn to V 2, will be intersected by the
radii drawn from the point K into the marks on tho
line F, and those intersections will show the diminution
of width according to thn laiv<i ot'lii'car perspective.

As this diagram may 1>4 ci'^^wdtd wUh Sines, you aro
recommended to exam'uo thi; intfciT.o.cii^nn cai.r-iUv,
and mark the forms ci' ( jm; wi'<u:ws with :i Lard j'pjicil,
and then draw in all thw p "ix^'iiiculaTu as rt,;u] ilcd
by the radii on the diaii'iia't i:iv:. If n this ^rn: i of
tlie diagram ('\ere shoui J fippuai a'v conf'isioii, if v.'i
be fur better >m comm( i.!? ai»ci>:', , and ■■: e iBi.iir ■'a
flrawiiig is, t)i( loss risk is (here jf diii9iJi>ointiinivt. i'mo
)>iiK-) ol' the buiifiing — tha! is, the wing and tho portAon
(tf tho centre suvii above, with the little projection (it
' !, 11'. fJrawn by iiiiigonals to tho vanishing point V 1.

Y'-a are advised not to pass this diagittm without
having obtained a perfect ku'.'-:vledge of tho nriDc' U's
by which tlje •.)iniiuu^''.na are regub.'iu]., 1 liicult as
thisir.!)' appt.vr, i(. ..ught 'nyallmeana to Ic af tempted,
for it cannot be tu'-, stroiiirly iinprefded t;i '.iie mind,
that no perfectioif ri dvawiug, no (l< ' • voy in f:T)iBhing,
nor boldness < 1' tlh'..t, can at.ne foi K iciency ii'. per-
spective. W.'ion a lit'le pi<i;Pes8 haa lieen made in
this, so that tho judgniuuc is prepared to understand
the arrangemepts which objects must undergo to bo
correctly representcU on a fiat surface, a scene in nature
con be sketched witliout any material difficulty.

Fig. 9 represeniii a method by which archways aro
put into perspective ; -

The base A B, the
horizontal line H,
and the point of sight
P, are determined as
in the preceding dia-
grams. In this it will
be seen that if the
point P had been re-
tained in the centre
of the subject, the
sidea of each respec-
tive arch would have
been alike ; to ob-
viate this, P is placed
a little to the left of
the centre.

This is a subject
which may often be
ntet with, and you are
advised to study such
objects in nature, be
they of one or more
arches; ever remem-
bering that the sta-
tion must be pre-
served with tho head
towards the point of
sight ; the eyes only
are to be turned from
one part to another.
,.^ '^ You will thus prac-

''■■ ^' tically learn the dis-

tance at which to take a station for such studies. If
it be taken too near, too little of the subject will be
seen. If it be taken too far off, then there will be
more expansion than ii required, and the subject will
not show the minutiae.

Suppose such an object ss fig. 9 to be in front of the
draughtsman : the piers between the arches should be
sketched as perpendicularly as possible, and the arches
turned by hand ; then the depth of the receding sides,
at nearly as the judgment may direct, and as much of
the masonry oa may point out the perspective of the

DRAWING.

e praiC' :'i;8

one or more

lubject : then, while alt ii freih in the memory, Attach
the iketoh to the drawing-board, and by the T-iiuare
draw the baie A B, the horizontal line l\, the point of
light P, and the vaniihing point V2: then, by the T-
■quare, correct all the perpendiculars end horizontal!;
draw the line C C, which is the chord of the smaller arcs,
and D D, wulch is the chord of the large arc, and observe
that the perpendiculars intersect the line C, and those
at the centre arc at D: then find the centre for the arc
M, and describe it correctly from one perpendicular
into the other: do the same from their centres to the
smaller arcs; and thus the superficies of the subject will
be defined: then draw the visual rays from the base of
all the perpendiculars £, and from the intersections on
C C and D D, to the point cf sight P, which give the
receding lines for the visible sides of the archways. If
the piers be square, a lino drawn from the base of the
perpendicular of the centre archway E, to the vanish-
ing point V 2, will give the perspective width of the
receding parts. If the piers be '^ne square in front,
and two squares 'fwep, mark off a square to the left of
the perpendicular, as at G ; and a diagonal drawn thence
to V 2 will give the receding depth where it intersects
the visual ray E P at K. At this intersection draw the
horizontal line I ; a d where this intersects the visual
rays at EP, as at K, i. ise the perpendiculars till they
intersect the visual rays C P and D P, as at L L. Thus
will the receding sides of the archway be determined.
To find the arc at the farther end of the subject, draw
the horizontals L L ; and the visual ray M P, where
these intersect at N, is the centre on which the arc
may be described. The smalkr arches are to be found
by a similar process.

Now the correcting of such a sketch by the applica-
tion of the rules of perspective, will show where the
eye and hand have failed in giving a faithful represen-
tation of the object. Therefore, again visit the spot,
taking a station strictly in agreement with that in the
drawing, and compare the corrected lines with those
which nature will present. Let all be rigidly examined,
and the result will not fail to bo satisfactory.

We recommend that every opportunity should be
taken to sketch such subjects from nature ; they fur-
nish excellent studies for linear perspective, and one
such study would convey more information than the
copying of a dozen drawings or diagrams.

SKETCUINO FROM NATURE.

Having acquired a certain facility of hand, and
mastered the principles of perspective, you may pro-
ceed to the more agreeable study of sketching from
natural scenery. At first, do not attempt any difiicult
or complex subject. Select some assemblage of ordi-
nary objects, such as may be thought agreeable in
themselves, and likely to be represented with ease and
satisfaction. The scene selected should not contain
more than three or four objects of different kinds —
such as a cottage, one or two trees, and a small rustic
paling, with perhaps the addition of a little glimpse of
background. You will observe that an artist rarely
ever takes an object in its broadest and most regular
form : he never represents a house, for instance, as if
he had taken up his position right in front of it, as an
architect would do; nor would he paint a row of trees
at a right angle to his own position, seeing that the
effect of such representations would be tame and formal.
He endeavours to catch the careless grace of nature,
as she appears to casual observation. A house, par-
ticularly, should always be viewed from a point a little
aside from the front, so as to bring in as many of its
angularities as possible. A group of natural objects
should be represented as if the draughtsman had just
by chance got his eye upon it; and yet the selection of
a point from which this effect may be obtained must
be a matter of study. For an early lesson in sketch-
ing from natui'e,it is enough that the objects be merely
drawn in outline: to fill in details, and give the full
eflect of light and shade, must be left to a future
period in the career vf a young artist.

Ai an example of the lo^nei whieh may be leleoied
for early sketches from nr.ture, fig. 10 is given, being
simply a cottage, backed by a few trees, and having
some broken ground in front, while a gliinpse of the
sea is obtained at the side of the picture. The station
of the draughtsman is here at S, in order that the cot-
tage may not appear to have been viewed formally, and
that the trees behind may give to the scene its neat
pyramidal form, while the broken grounds in front
communicate boldness of character, and the straight
line of the sea at P (which is the horizontal line) afibrdi
a pleasing contrast to the other lines of the drawing.

Vig. ic.

It will be remarked that the cottace stands on a line
parallel to the base AD; the point ofsight P is perpen-
dicular to the station S; consequently the rays that
regulate the side of the chimney, the upper and under
lines of the roof, and the window on that side of the
cottage, all centre in P.

Provided with a sketch-book (measuring perhaps
10 inches long by 7 inches broad), the first thing to be
done is to select a station from which the drawing is
to be executed. A difficulty may present itself re-
specting the size of the proposed drawing; but the
dimensions may be determined in a very simple man-
ner. Hold up the sketch-book in front, with one eye
closed, and the space in the scene covered by the book
is that which may be drawn ; of course, the farther off
the book is held, the less of the subject will be covered.
When the extent of the scene is arranged, the book
may be gently lowered, and a few dots made on the top
margin, merely to point out the relative situations of
particular features, as the width of the cottage, and the
trees. Then remembering to preserve the station,
murk the point of sight on the distant horizon. Do not
be in haste, but judge of the relative distances of the
most prominent parts — suoh| for instance, as the gable
end of the cottage and its length — and tenderly mark
them on the plaees to be so occupied. When these or
more dots for guide* have been placed, examine their
relative distances, and compare them with the objects,
by holding the sketch-book out in front ; so as to see
the agreement between them over the margin. To
arrange these particulars well at first, will save much
trouble in obliterating falsely-drawn lines. Be careful,
in sketching, to preserve the perpendiculars of walls and
chimney; that is, to draw them vertically or at right
angles with the base line, which is now the lower edge
of the sketch-book.

To prevent the hand from injuring the sketch as it
proceeds, commence on the left and proceed to the right.
Endeavour to sketch the lipes with a lightness of hand,
or with what is called freedom, the effect of which ii
very distinct from lines drawn by a straight-edge :
let them be rather broken, or a little wavy, yet having
the general appearance of straightness. Let the masses
of foliage be sketched with the same ease and confi-
dence that the capital letter E, or the flourish of the. D,
are made in writing. Sketch the grounds, in their
diffcr6.it undulations, rather more angularljr, or as if
ruggedly dashed in, and strengthen the lines where
separation of parts seems to be required.

631

OHAMBEBffS IHrOBllATIOV FOR TliU PEOPLE.

In ezaminbig th* objacte of which a wtna like th«
fongoing if ooinpoMd, you will obMrve that th« linei
for the cottAge hare one chMMter, the lines for the
tnnt another, and the lines for the ground a third cha-
racter, which detach the object! from each other. A
simple outline of theie three forme if euificient to b«
aimed at, for the introduction of more niarlcings or
teparationf would only tend to confuee early ftudiei.

If the linef, on a fint attempt, lie not all which could
be expected, they fumifh a proof that the mind If in
tkdrance of the hand, and should operate at a stiinulus
to exertion. In a few studies you may discover that,
by beginning with a cut pobt to the pencil, it gradually
wears away, and giTes lui increasing thickness of line ;
this is often very odrantageous, for at the tketohing
adTances to the foreground, the bolder lines of the
pencil contribute to the separation of parts, to regulate
distances, and give a more tpirited eifect to the subject.
You will alto discover, after a little practice, that by
a centle twiit of the pencil, a freth point or surface
will come in contact with the paper, and with it a finer
line may be drawn. Occasionally, by pressing harder
on the pencil, an increase of power will be communi-
cated to such parts as mav require separation or addi-
tional spirit, as on the rude line which forms the fore-
ground m fig. 10, and gradually on the pathway to the
cottage door.

Suppose a scene to consist of two oi' more plans, as
the remains of a cattle on an irregular wrfuce, with a
mast of trees in front, and near it, as the principal or
leading feature of the scene, an arm of the tea, and re-
mote hills forming the background or distance, and a
rude foreground. We shall tuppoie that a scene of
this nature, at represented in ns. il, can be conve-
niently visited. Commence by selecting a station that
will present a varietv of fonns or opposition of cha-
racter, such as lofty objects contrasted by small objects,
which will prevent the appearance of equal heights or
parallels, and also prevent the scene from being crowded
or closed up. The castle toward one side of the pic-

Fig. 11.

ture, and the distance on the other, so as to form an
irregular diagonal mats, are in better relief than if the
building with the ^>ees were more in the middle of the
subject. The opposition of angular to circular forms
produces a pleasing effect in a sketch, and should be
observed. If the perpendiculars of a ruin be broken,
the general appearance must be that of standing up-
right; for however mutilated towers or walls may be,
there will still be evidences of their having been pro-
perly constructed. When these particulars shall hare
been considered, proceed to arrange the situation of
the principal n)ass, by_ dotting on the edge of the
sketch-book, and by faintly indicating the forms, de-
termine the horizontal line, observing that hills- may
^pear far above : in fig. 1 1 , it is at H on the extre-
mity of the water, the station is at S, and consequently
the point of sight at P, into which are drawn the visual
rays, or lines which regulate the receding sides of the
towers. These and the perpendiculars being arranged,
632

they may be boldly sketched in, and the trees fVcely
marked, in a character partaking of the semicircular;
the fewer markings the better, for it it the utc'.ett te-
naratian of parte competing a matt that dettroyt the
brea<tth and boldness of a sketch. The distant hills
may be tenderly indicated with a fine point, and the
foreground may bo coarsely defined with a broad-
pointed pencil, in order to detach it firom the parts
more distant. Here and there an additional spot or
touch of the bold pencil may be given, to assist in pre-
serving the gradations of distance.

The same object in nature will often preaent many
etcellent subjeets for the sketch-book; even moving to
a distance of fifty yards may present a scene of in-
creased inteiMt. Do not, therefore, fail to take advan-
tage of such stations, and sketch an outline from each,
in order to exorcise the judgment by comparing the
subjects afterwards. It is also useful to atcertain how
nearly the eye has determined the truth, by applying
the ruins of linear perspective to every sketch at the
earliest convenience. Many advantages ariiie from
two or three students sketching the tame icenes in
company, for various valuable remarks are thereby
elicited, tending to the mutual benefit uf the party.
The sketch-book should be preserved complete, as con-
taining rccordf of advance in judgment and correctness
of delineation.

In drawinc from natu"*, as in penmanship, every
person may be said to possess a manner of his own.
Some draw stiffly, and otners with remarkable freedom.
You are recommended to catch the tone of those who
form their sketches in a bold and free style, but by no
means imitate any one. Your object ought to be to
draw scenes with natural truth and beauty, regardlcs.^
of all mannerisms. At first you can scarcely avoid
drawing with a certain degree of formal ttitfneat, but
animated by a desire to excel, and exercising taste and
judgment, your practice will improve, and your sketches
willnot fail to meet with approbation. Whatever be
the difficulties you encounter, others whose works you
admire were at the outset equally embarrassed ; for
rest assured that in most casus in which great profi-
ciency hat been attained in the art of delineation, no
tmalf degree of trouble has been endured, and many
failurei have taken place, before the artist was finally
successful.

Drawing Foliaqe. — To draw correctly the various
kinds of trees, with their respective characters of foliage,
requires the most careful study and frequent exercise
from nature. In an elaborate work on Landscape
Drawing, published by Leigh, liont'on, the following'
remarks occur on the charat:>'';rs ot milage : — ' When a
tree is near the eye, the leivt es are distinctly scp-^rated
from each other; their particular form, the insertion of
their stems into the branch, the perfection of their
local colour, are all apparent. Remove this object to
the second plan, the foliage assumes mousea, retaining
the character, but the tone is altered; the separation
of parts is no longer evident, yet it is recognised aa
the object previously inspected. Remove it stul farther
from the eye, the masses assume a uniform tone, re-
lieved by licationt of light nnd shad?, softened hy
the inter> ration of atmosphere. Remove this objei^c
still more distant, it it rendered indistinct, anrl fomib a
portion of the mass of light or shade in which it iii!))'
be situated. Nature presents these appearances to
evtry inquiring eye, and the inode of representing them
must depend on the perseverance of those who delight
in transcribing them into their sketch-bcokt.' This is
to just, that the student might imagine the tree first
inrpected retiring gradually into indistinctness, ami
displaying, as it receded, the due portions of aurial
effect. It also teaches how tenderly the outline must
be expressed in extreme distance, how much more evi-
dent the marking may appear in the mid-distance, how
much more defined the form becomes by light, shade,
and markings, on the second plan, and how distinct the
expression of character and piower of touch ought to be
as they approach the eye or the foreground.

DRAWING.

Fig. 12. The willow huh«en repreicnted by parpen •
diculM iimrkinga, terminp.diig in » point, to give the

with good effect, they hare felt embamiMd in elTlni>
a comitponding correctneti to the maie, or roMMi ojf

Fig. 12.

idea of iti pendant foliage. A broad mnM of light is
usually preserved, and An incroasc of markings is given
to one side of each subdivision of foliage, with consider-
able power of characteristic markings on the shade-
side of the tree, besides an occasional repetition of
touch for effect.

The fir has been ^presented by short angular mark-
ings connected itith each otber, much like the zig-zag
scratch with a pen to obliterate an incorrect word.
These markings arc continued in agreement with the
projections of the branches, and are repeated with in-
creased power on the shade-aide of the tree. A few slight
markings are given on the extremities iind beneath the
masses to indicate the existence of foliage on the
farther side of the tree.

The elm has been represented by escalops in a
semicircular direction, so distributed as to cive the
idea of thick foliaeo; the masses are separated by de-
tached markings, mdicating the same character, and
their rotundity given by repetitions, with occasional
increase of power. A few dots on the extremities will
relieve the harshness of the outline, where the escalops
are too evident or regular.

The oak has been represented, as in fig. 13, by a
character which partakes of angular and broken cir-
cular markingp, intermingled with dots and sharp
touches. The lighter parts are pencilled tenderly, and
the shade portions are repeated upon, with additional
power given by sharp angular markings.

We mention these varieties for the purpose of show-
ing that foliage is not to be represented by distinctly
portrayins everv leaf, but by a bold grouping and
superncial outlming ; the purpose being served by
merely a general representation. Suppose a tree ia to
be Helected for placing in the foreground of a drawing,
where its peculiarities are required to be displayed.
Let the p-owth of the branches be observed ; a straight
line is rarely to be seen, nor do they spring from
each other with uniformity; there is usually an un-
dulating line, often graceful, or a wild luxuriance, ever
pleasing, in these suppor'.s to the foliage. Let the
effect of the leaves which may compose a principal
mass be indicated, not the outline of s leaf or leavei,
which would prove labour in vain, but what is seen as
much by the imagination as the eye— that is, not the
detail, but the eWecl. If too much regularity appear,
destroy it by projecting a touch or two on the extre-
mities', and attack any formality by additional mark-
ings, in conformity with the character adopted. Often-
times the mere waving of the pencil, or a powerful
repetition with the broad point, will not only remove
a monotonous appearance, but communicate charac-
teristic spirit and eflfect.

Experience has shown that while students could
sketch the extremities of various branches of trees

Fig. 13.
foliage, belonipng to the same tree. This has arisen
from not havmg duly considered that each roam re-
quired to be treated as a centre, from which the cha-
racter should be spread towards its respective boundary,
with such discrimination as to obviate all appearances
of formality, and then, by the introduction of repeti-
tions of markings and touches, to arrange the separate
parts, 80 as to preserve but one central mass, however
it might be situated. A few trials, with the observance
of these particulars, will remove the difficulty. Some-
times the hues of nature in their variety may at a
future time be added. The light and shade in Indian-
ink cannot be thus used as a basis, l>ecause under
colour it is injurious to transparency. The light and
shade in bistre is rich in mass, powerful in touch, and
susceptible of giving transparency, with a high deeree
or finish. Either may be adopted, as the succeeding
hints will apply to one ae well as the other. Cakes of
Indii;!<-ink, of bistre., or of neutral tint, may be had of
the venders of colours for artists. They should be free
from grit; and when they are well ground, and duly
incorporated with gum and white sugar-candy, they
will deposit no sediment.

Flower- Drawing. — In connection with the drawing
of foliage and trees, we should particularly recommend
the practice of flower-drawing. At first you may copy
drawings or prints of flowers, with a view to catching
the mode of delineation in groups; nature, however, in
this OS in everything else, must be your true school,
and to that we direct your attention. We press thia
advice in a particular manner on young mechanics who
are studying ornamental design with a regard to their
professions. No doubt, examples of ancient and modem
ornament are of great value in this branch of drawing;
but as Mr Hay justly remarks in his work on Colour-
mg, ' flowers are your best practice, as you will now
have obtained freedom of execution. To those who have
gained a facility in copying the beautiful forms which
prevail in the vegetable kingdom, and who have had
such instructions in the use of water-colours as may
enable them ^o copy individual flowers with ease, I
would recommend the acquirement of a thorough
knowledge of the laws of harmonious colouring. They
will then be able to group and arrange flowers in the
most agreeable and efi'ectire manner in regard to colour,
as their previous experience must have taught them to
accomplish in combination of form.

Dr Ure says, that " the modes in which taste ia cul-
tivated at Lyons deserve particular study and imitation
in this country. Among the weavers of the place, the
children, and all persons busied in devising patterns,
much attention is devoted to everything in any way
connected with the beautiful, either in figure; or colour.
Weavers may be seen in their holiday leisure gathering
flowers, and grouping them in the most engaging com-

633

OHAh^ERS'S INFORMATIOV fOIt THE PEOPLlC

binktIoDi. Thtj ar* eontinuklljr lUHMting n«w dtiigni
to Ihtir •mployen, and are Ihui tn« fruitful lourc* of
elegant pattenii." Ileno* the French illowcr-pattunij
are remarkablr free from Inooncruitiei, beinj; copied
from nature with Kienttfio prvoiiTon.

All thew fuilitiet for the improvement of o<ir fi^ncy
manufacture* are withiii the reach of the mout humbi
The puriuit of luch a coune of «tuily ae I havo en ■
dearoured to point i. ^c, would not only augment tL.eir
•oiyrcei of innocent pleaiure, but lead them tu other
initructive punuiti. Tbo yuuth, in i«arc!<ing for the
rooit graceful and picturei<iue plante in nature'* moot
profuM and wildeet producticui, would be naturally led
to commence the itudy uf butftny, for he would then
have lome interest in the inquiry. And it may be eaeily
imagined with what avidity the more advansed would
add tu hie knowledge of that pleaeing toienoe, or the
gratification he would derive from the itudy apd prac-
tice of horticulture.

I nee<l Bcarcely (continuei thii writer) point out tho
advantagea to be derived from tho cultiTiUion of flowers
by those engaged in designing ornamental pattcrni. Tho
productions of a well-niAnageil flower KfiTdc-ii to such
would be, in my opinion, of n:ore roal utility, as olijccts
of study, than the content* uf tho Louvre. In those
production* of nature they will ilind tho moat «xqiii*it(j
beauty and elegance of form, and uveu In slngto tyoweri,
the molt perfect couibination* of colouring.

In saying that the study of such subject* it <'jf more
utility to the ornauiental designer thiui that of those
great works of art <v!iich havo bean the admiration of
ages, I do not mean to undervalue the Lenetit that uuy
one, and especially thu urtiit, may derivo from studying
works of this description. I am uwaru that *' the eye
has its nrinciple of correspondence with what is jutt,
beautiful, and elegant, and tl it it acquires, like the ear,
a habitual delicacy, and aimtrars, with the sanio pro-
vision*, to the finest inipresaions. lieing therefore
versed iu the works of the best iiiostcr*, it soon learnt
to distinguish true impressions from false, and grace
fircm atl'ootatkon.' I have thoretor^.i not tho least doubt
that those whc liave risen to sonic degree of eminence
as orramental ieiignen, would reap «;reat benefit in
attainiit< a knowledge of the various styles and subtle-
tie* of « louring, by carefully studying and copying, in
masses oi colour atone, t.ie beiit works of art to which
they can got access, Md upplying these arrangements
to the particular figu.e* of their patterns.'

IIOHT AND 8UADE — Tl.NTlNO.

In every scene, during the presence of light, some
parts fall immediately under the effect of tho light,
while others are thrown into shade. In art, advantage
is taken of this mixture of light and dark parts, not only
for the facility with which it enables the draughtsman
to scpaiute the parts of a scene, but for the agreeable
eflfects which may be produced by the judicious asso-
ciation and dutrioution of the light and shade. In the
representation of a round objoct, it is only by a careful
disposition of the light upon tho convej part, and the
truth of the attendant reflected lij^ht and suadon, that
the appe.araiico of roundness is communicated. The
niKuns by which the effect of light and shade is to bo
produced by tints are tiow to be described. Virst, with
regard to the preparatory stepa in tho proL.^ss.

Provide the best hard drawing-paper, whic'' may be
had of various size and substance. For subject* in
which minute and fine delineation is required, tli' paper
should be smooth on the surfnc*;; but when the subject
is of a rural . character, <n whi.'h all tho shagginess of
nature is to be introduced, the paper should be of a
rough description, for roughness of surface in such a
case will assist in giving truth to the representation.
Drawing-papers have fre(|uently a greosiness of surface,
which prevents a tuit from l>eiiig tprerul with evenness;
the slightest infusion of gall into the water with whii:h
th(f tint is made will remedy the defect; or tho surface
of the paper ma^ be sponged with the gall and water
before fastening it on the drawing-board.
634

A few eamtil-hiiUr penoile must be provided; My two
/liU inch iiiu, to distribute a tint uvvr a large s{iace;
two iwani/uUt; to wash iti smalliir snoces; and two
h§n-iiuilU, to pick in iiiinuto parts. Tho qualities of
those denominations of hair pencils are vnriuus. A bad
one is far worse than u bad pen; with this it nmy be
possible to write, but with a bo*! ponoil every effort will
bi foiled. A proof of the quality may b« mode in t)io
fullcwi^iX manner, prior to puroUoso : When dipi>ed in
water, ifit spring into a line with the quiU, and retain
its point, select It; if it spread into two or more points,
nijoct it; and observe that U is nut requisite for a
pencil to be touched two or three times on the edge of a
"esaol conf.aini'ig water, nor to be pasted between the
lips, vinou these might givu a poini to a bud one. Pro-
vide aiBO a few small delf saucers, in which to mis the
tints, uid two cup* or glaosos, to contain water; one to
bo preesirred pure, and the other iu which the pencils
are to be washed.

The tints mav be made according to taste t from
Iiidian-inic, a black; Uitre, a brown; or neutral tint,
a gray : they are alike capable of communicating smooth-
Jiess Bind spirit. With reference to further advance-
ment in the art, it is [jroper to state that the light and
hhoiie of a landscape in tho neutral tint is a basis on
which the hues of nature in their variety may at a future
time be added. Tho light and shade in bistro is rich in
luass, powerful iu touch, and suscttptible of giving trans-
parency with u high degree of iinish.

Mg. 14.

It may be observed, that the relief of an object de-
peuds on the just arrangomnnt of the light, the iliie
managemout of the half-tint and shade, with the proper
introduction of the shadow.

Fig. 14 represents three rude stones full in the light,
the lint' A showing the direction in which it fulls. The
shade-side of two, and the end of the third, ehow a piny
of light towards the lower parts, which is to be observed
in nature. Tho shadow is marked stronger b<Mivai)i,
while that which is cast on the inclined stone is strongest
at the base of thu upright stone, and becomes liglitcr
as it falls on the varying lurfaccs of tbo others.

Fig. 15 represents on aeom dislodged from its cup.
The .Humiliation is from the left, and falls on the rotun-
dity of the acorn, the greatest light being on the most
prominent part. In this case a slight portion of hall-
tint i* placed along the upper edge, while the under
*ido gradually approochas through half-tint to shade,
and then softens into reflected light on tho lower edge,
which contributes to the character of smooth round-
ness, tho power of the shadow beneath assisting in giving
effect to the object. The light operates iu the same

DHAWINO.

fe^

muin«r on tha rup, b«tng eui on th« kdranelng part of
the hollow; Iti iiUiwlo In cMt on the reoediiiR part op-
^Mted (o the light, oii the Mine priii' iple thai, the exte-
rior <it' the cup ii trcAted, while thi' ulow rotievei the
hulf-tint, M in the prayioun initai> I'heie plain and

circular object* are introductnl t.i oall the itudeni'*
iiCtention to luch natural obiei'U, in which it may lie
(here obicrved how admirably the light! and ihadee
are intermingled with half-tints, to ai to obriato all
hanhneii or violont oppoaition, while the shadow* give
a due etf'ect, harnioniiiug tho whole, and rendering the
minutice worthy of the clutoit inveitigation.

SuppoH you have made a (ketch uf luoh an object,
at lea«t eii time* the lize of fig. 14, and that it ii faa-
tened down on the drawing-board; a few email saucer*,
and two vessels containing pure rrater,on the right hand
near the pencils, with the window on the left, so that
the Hunahine does not fail on the drawing-board ; Let
a tint be made, according to the previou* directions,
from either of the cake* bofore-mentioued, and of ntiy
strength the student may think proper. Mix it well
with the pencil to be used, and always let that be rather
larger than mip''. seem to be required — sav, a swan
quill. The per . il is properly charged for uae when it has
been stirred into the tint and gently touched, or paaaed
two or three time* on the edge of tho saucer. This
muat bo done carefully^ be;auBe if the pci -il contain
too much tint, there is a difiioulty in spreadiug it neatly,
and the edge* will be deficient in Boftnesa and deli-
cacy. If the pencil contain too small a quantity, it
will be iinposiiblo to ipreud tho tint. If the *pace be
lurjje, it will require a little experience to keep the
pencil equally charged with the tint.

Whatever may bo the tint chosen, it must be washed
over all the parts which do not re<'eive the light. Thus
with the (Mucil charged with tint, as before described,
commence at the top of the perpendicular *tone, fill in
the form, and proceed by slow motions downwards, go
as to keep the floating or lower edge of the tint con-
stantly being acted upon by the pencil, while it i* dis-
tributing tho tint neacly to the shapes required. The
pencil must not be returned U> repair omisaiona, as that
would destroy the evenness of imt; the parts should
be washed in with correctness at tho first. The pencil
may then be carried across the shadow to the shade of
the flat stone and it* iha<low on the ground, with atten-
tion to the edge*; then the upper surface of the dia-
gonally-placed *tone, with it* shade and shadow. If
these spaces l>e well washed in, the^ will appear of one
uniform power of tint. When it i* perfectly dry,
strengthen the tint in the saucer by an addition of colour
from tlio cake; this increase of power to the tint muat
be judged of by experience in it* application over the
tint first hashed in. If the subject be examined, it will
appear to consist of three gradations of tint; that which
has been apread is the first, as on the upper surface of
the diagonally-placed stone; the second gradation of
tint appears on ull the other shaded parts; and tho third
gradation is confined to the shadowa.

It may be noticed, that if too much colour i* added
to the first tint, it would produce a harsh effect; and
if too little is added, the eflfect would be deficient : in
cither case, the due gradation would not be obaerved.
Experiments may be made on a piece of paper, till the
proper strength of the tint has been aacertained; it
niuy then bo applied to tho shades and shadows au be-
fore, but omitting the upper surface of the diagonal
stone. When this is perfectly dry, the tint must be
again strengthened to the third gradation of power,
>yith the same precautions as before; and with it wash
in the shadows, keeping the edges of this tint rather
within the bonndaries of the preceding.

Mass, Half -Tint, and Shade. — Suppose such a scene
as fig. 11 to have been sketched, and you are disposed
to give eflfect to the outline by a few tints. Consider
under what circumstances of light it has been seen in
nature, or under what circumstances it might be seen.
Imagine it an evening effect, the sun having descended
behind the broad mass formed by the castle and trees;

these, on dlf)\)r*nt hroken lurfaces, constituting ili«
second plan; beyond which i* a mlddi*t>tnce, teraiinat-
ing in water and remote hill*; the foreground coin>
poaed of a rude mas*, with rock and buahc* inter-
apersud. With thia outline you are preaumed to be
familiar, and will perceive that, by placing the light
behin<i tho principal objects, »n opposition will be
established that must uive a character to the whole.
Thua the principal will be in half-tint ; the light
brightest bohind tho caatle, anid gradually aubdued
along tho distance; the foreground iiuworful, so as to
relieve the half-tint <'f the priucinat, and oppose the
distance; thua the gradations or Keeping will be pre-
served, and effect given to the subject.

Attempt the subject, first on a small scale, to become
acquainted with the process, and afterwards on one
much larger, for improvement. With the first grada-
tion of tint, as In the preceding cases, commence at the
top of tho tower, and proceed downwards by slow move-
ments, 80 aa to |iroaorve the outline, sweeping the
per.cil round tho maaaes of foliage, and covering all
the second plan ; continue tho wash over the fore-
ground, except the edge where the piece* of rock are
situated ; those may be omitted to relievo the inaaa
from tho second plan. When tho tint is dry, make tho
second gradation of strength, and wash over again tho
trees and the i^round on which they are situated. Then
begin on the left on the foreground, and wash over the
mass till within a little of tho lights which were Icit
untouched with tho first wash. In these lijhta, and
in repetitions of wash towards them, bo caretul not to
let any per])endicular shapes appear; any promiscuous
irregularity of form will better express ruggcdncas of
surface When this is drv, reduce a little of the first
tint ivith water, and wash in the distant hills; then re-
duce the tint yet more, and with it wash in the space
for the sky. As this may represent clouds, an even
tint is not of material consequence; the pencil, there-
fore, should have leas tint in it than usual. Begin at
the angle on tho left hand, and wash over the space,
leaving such parts untouched at fancy may select, oc-
casionally touching the extreme point of tho pencil in
the pure water, so that the tint may become still
weaker as it anproochea the part juat above tho castle.
If this be well done, whatever may be the forms left
untouched in the sky, the appearance will be that of a
light or tender tint, getting gradually weaker and
softer in a diagonal direction towards the chief light
beuind the caatle.

In this stato the drawing would exhibit some effect,
and might receive any additional washes or touches
that may bo suggested by the taste or the judgment of
the student. After obtaining a knowledge of the dis-
tribution of the tints in their gradations, kt the subject
hi drawn again considerably larger, and now investi-
gate the generel principle which regulates the proposed
effect, and -cili'ct on each particular part of the pro-
cess, so !./. t > comprehend the motive for every appli-
cation o' tir '. When the tints are washed in, let the
di-awin? be !>)rv>'d at seme distance, where it can all
be seet at •.■:e<>i without the surrounding objects inter-
fering i'li •;\c\iew. At this due removal, which is
regulated by the size of the drawing, the gradations of
distance and the keeping will more clearly show their
correctness or inaccuracy. If the drawing be large,
the flat tints on the second plan will tamely express
masses of foliage, or the union of many trees; and the
castle will require some characteristic markings. The
black-lead pencil may bo used upon tho tint to indi-
cate a variety of form on the building, or to separate
the mass into trees of various heights, and these will
serve as guides for tho introduction of repetition of
wash or touch. This proceeding implies finish, and
may be carried to the extent dictated by the judgment
of the student; but it must ever be borne in mind, that
breadth of effect is injured by every addition that
disturbs a mass. Variety may be introduced, so a* to
attack a monotonous space or mass without destroying
it. Whenever it appears that more is required to com-

€35

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATIOK FOR THE PEOPLE.

pUU tht dmwin|.ftnJ tb« liiiprovMnant U not lUcgMtad
Dy • glMic*. ilMUt iroiDMlUUljr ; put th« amwliiK ailda,
Mtd tngagt on •omcthinx tlM. In » fvw lUj/t, on ra-
ourring to the lubject, it will be Men ^rith » Ireih eye;
new i>r»M will ariio; » little will b« added, ur » little
power will be reduced, lo ai to effect an improreiaont
whioh no itraining of the facuUiei in the former In
■tance could hare produced. A drawing ntay thus be
lubjeoted to ft«quont reviiiun, and retouched a* an
advance in taete ihall direct.

8uppoie lutih a lubJect aa fig. 10 l)e sketched, for the
purpose of itudv, in breadth of light, the oppoiite of
the last etTuot : let a tint be made lesi powerful than
the firit gradation— luch a tint ai might roprewnt
cloud* that were not gloomy— and with it waah over
the apace for the aky, proaerving the form* of the tree*,
and aufteniiig off the tint in a diagoDul direction, *o as
to leave the light along the horizon, with the greatest
breadth on the right. U'hen dry, repeat a few waaho*
on the angle towanU the left and along tho top, *o u*
to |>roduco a gmdation of power from the top to the
horizon, and it will givo the effect of retiring or kveping.
If the tint haa not been woahed in with eveune**, en-
deavour to convert >>.iv conepicuou* form into a cloud,
bv picking f. filling in on it* edge* a corresponding
tint, *o u* to moke it form part of another more appn)-
priate *hape. Then with that power of tint, considorud
oa the first gradation, commence at a part not lo high
0* the gable of tho cottage, upon tho tree*, with an irre-
gular form, distinct from a straight line, and continue
the tint over the tree* beneath, to the line of ground on
which the cottage stand*, llegin again at the lower
part of the base beneath the cottage, and wimIi in the
tint up to whore the ground-lino before-mentioned joins
the boundary of the eubject, and continue to waih in
the tint, in agreement with tho form of an indicated
path to the cottage door, and so across to tho mass of
ibregrouad and bush on the right. When all is per-
fectly dry, make the second gradation of power in tint,
and wash over the lower portion of the trees closo_ to
the cottage, with the space before washed in, observing
not to let it approach the edges of tho previously-washed
tint, lost the shapes should appear har*h, particularly
on the bu«h oppoved to the lif;nt horizon. _ It mu*t bo
ob*erved, that the power which wa* required to *epa-
rate maaaes in outline, ceaaea to be proper on the appli-
cation of tint, aa there ia no decided outline in nature.
With the tint of the second gradation, wash in the
door, the window, the shade of the roof with its shadow,
and the shade side of the chimney. Then with the
third gradation of power, wash in the foreground and
the lower part of the bush, with the precautions before-
mentioned. Whoa dry, place the drawing at a due
diatance, according to its size; and ob*erve, if the effect
be that of a cottage in a ma«a of light, that the gable
end cannot properly receive the aame degree of illumi-
nation a* the roof and the aide ^vhoro the window ia ;
it will therefore be proper to waah over it a tint that
will keep it in its place. You must reflect, that oa the
Hgbt is concentrated by the illumination from the
right being poured upon the cottage, it* relieving mass
of half-tint will be lighter than on other occoaion*;
therefore a tint lighter than the clouds will be auffi-
cient to detach it from the brighter aide, without de-
stroying the masa of light in which the cottage ia placed.
As in the coae of the preceding aubject, any repetition
of waah or touch that may aeem to be required should
be added, being careful to preserve the intended effect.
A little practice will teach that the trees should be
diversified with tender tints, bo as not to destroy tho
mass of light; that the distant sea should be washed
with a tint to relieve it from the horizon; that the
ground on which the cottage stand* may be broken or
enriched with characteristic fonus ; and that the fore-
ground may be touched with a power that shall judi-
ciously detach it from the second plan. _

In the examination of drawings, during the progress
of retouching, if a part appear too light, or another part
too dark, so as to produce the effect of tpottinet$, cover
639

such part with the flngnrs, and imagtn« t!.* appaannw
with any proposed altcratio: if on improvement be
suggtttsd, at once adopi it, *- ! <«r«n->ne again ; i Iways
paying attention to pnidvrval'on ot' tho masses, > u which
both simplicity and eft'ec ; <i.d. \ dt-awlna should
be aacertainetf to havu u , n't-ianl hifhl, while the
subordinate light* diniinira .ii brilliancy in proportion
aa they are removed from the princit'iil, Maaaes of
shade should increase in power of tint conformable to
their dogreea of rainoteness. These are eaaantlal to
keeping uiid ef!^t. Making-out or marking more than
the respective diatancea require, toucliea which are
inappropriate, or harahneaa uf any deacription, are all
departurea from thie prinuiplea of tbe art, and deviations
ttiun natural appfarances. Although efTecta may be
obaerved in nature at variance with theae rulea — auch,
for instanre, as light scattered equally on the foregrnund
and the mid-diataiiL'«, or the whole acene beinK beneath
a glare of aunahlne, or in shade by the clouded state of
the atmosphere — yet those are effect* un*uited for nic-
torial delineation, because they are deficient in wnat
constitute* beauty and attraction In the art.

You may have obaerved how eesential a sky is in

fiving effect to a drawing. The sroat variety of forms,
ights, half-tints, and sliades — tlie storm, the distant
falling shower, and other incidental effects, which the
atmnii|ihere presents to the view, should always be re-
garded with attention, not only because advantage may
be taken of such diversity for powerful contrast, but
because a well-arranged sky is a beautiful portion of ii
landscape. The repetition of tender washes over each
other may bo justified only in the endeavour to obtain
that tenderness and delicacy of tints which are conducive
to faithful representation of clouds; for continuing to
wash the same tint in successive applications will pro-
duce an effect that is termed woolly, from its being
deficient in that iharpnem or spirit which is obtained
by a few decided tints applied in just gradations.
These varieties may be adapted to the nature of the
scene, and may, by their judicious contrasts of form
and tint, contribute very materially to the general
effect of a subject — as in a stormy dky, bright horizons,
and beam* of light. The effect of moonlight may readily
be given by etrong tint*, *oftened oft' in the circular
direction of tho moon, and repeated till the gradation
i* obtained ; then give a waih over the whole *kv. Take
out the clouds to a half-tint by dabbing, and take out
the moon to the clean paper with crumb* of bread, A
few catching lights on the cloud* near the moon may be
taken out, but made less bright than the moon.

HUMAN FIUl'RRS.

A knowledge of drawing the human figure is to be
gained by a careful study of the outlines ot the diflTerent
parts composing the trunk, limbs, and members. All
such integral portions of the human figure, if time and
other circumstances permit, may be first studied from
cast* conveniently placed on tbe table, ao as to give a
facility to the hand in thi* department of eketching.*
It must, however, be borne in mind, that exercises uf
this nature, under the guidance of a ma*ter, do not ob-
viate the nece**ity for studying the human figure from
life; neither do they supersede the acquisition of a
knowledge of figure-drawing on a *niall scale, for the
purpose of ornamenting and giving effect to a scene
from nature. The introduction of human figures is uf
considerable utility in drawing a landscape, in order to
serve as a scale by which a spectator may know the
probable measurements of objects near which the figures
are situated; figures also give animation to a scene,
and, by the touches of light or of dark which they
juitifiably offer, communicate valuable relief to a inasa,
or assist in the keeping of the subject.

There are several well-known rules with respect to
the drawing of human figures; they are as follows :-

* Stucco costH uf llgures, nnd tlieir subordinnto parts, may be
bod ftom different luanufnctururs of models of this dcscriptiun
in London, Edinburgli, uud other Urge towns.

DRAWING.

Th« Uight of » fliur* ahoulJ be eight timai thni of itt
Uvi\ hklf lU height ii nt th« lower jwrl of the boilyi
II ((uartcr of iti htight it »t the knee. Tkit divitioii of
the human figure can readily be put on the ineniory hy

Fl(. I«.

the following method:— Draw a perpendicular line, then
divide it into eight equal parti; give one for the head,
niul, placing dote at each part in luccouion, give a
iccniid part for the breast, a third part for the centre
of tlie abdomen, a fourth part for the lower portion of
the body, a fifth part for the midway of the thigh, a
sixth part juit beneath the knee, a leventh part juit
beneath the culf of the leg, and the eighth part to tho
■ule of the foot. Tho ihouldera ure two heads in width;
tho elbow if a head and a-half from the ihoulder ; and
tho arm, with atraightened fingera, is three heads and
iv-half from the ahouldcr; that ia, the fingers will reach
down to the fifth diviaion of tho perpendicular. The
nieoiurements of the human figure, according to the
highest alandards of art, are exceedingly minute; but
(uch are not necessary where a more sketch of the form
is required to enliTen a landscape.

Fig. 17.

Fig. 17 exhibits the mode of ascertaining the heights
of figures, wherever they may be placed in a scene, ac-
cordmg to the rules of perspective. A is a figure on
the base line ; the eyes determine the height of the
horizontal line II, Draw the visual rays from the head
and feet of the figure A to the point of sight P, and
the receding diminutions are determined, supposing tho
space to be a level surface. Where the situation of a
figure is below the visual rays, as B, draw a parallel
line from the feet of the figure towards the ray, and
raise the perpendicular line B. Now, the measurement
between the visual rays at B ia the height of the figure
required. When the situations of figures are above
the rays, as at C and D, draw the parallels and the per-
pendiculars to their intersections beneath the eleva-
tions, and the measurements between the visual rays

at C and D will glrr the nspecllve heights of the
figures required. The figure K being on a level with
the ba««, a tiarallel line drawn from the lower ray will
determine tbe height of a figure so situated.

ARiiANOKMeNT »Nn V.yrtxt.— lt may be proper to
state thitl, In lelorting aceiiea from nature, the eipanae
of viilon, or fiO degrees, will often include more of tho
scenery surrounding an object than is require<l. <»n
such occasions the boundary lines may bo placed at
pleasure, or so lu to give the boat etf'ect to the prin-
cipal. When a more expansive view ia required to be
taken than is contained within (i<> degrees, the station
becomes a pivot from which a succeaaion of aketchea,
each 60 degreca of expanae, are to be taken. Thua any
portion, or the whole circle, may be completed, forming
what ia termed a Panorama; alwaya remembering that
the pointa of sight and vanishing points are on the
same horixontal line. Koregrounda may be added at
pleaauro; yet they should be consistent with the scene,
and such us might have been on the spot. A foreground
must ever bo more or less imaginary, because the space
between the objects which compose tho scene and the
spectator cannot bo otherwise filled up. A human
figure, should there bo one very neor, would appear as
high na the horizontal line, and tho lower extremities
would be hidden : auch unseemly reprcaentationa are
avoided, by auppoaing that the acene is viewed through
a cavity in tho aide of a room, or a frame, which is the
plane of the picture.

Largo drawings renuire a bold treatment luited to
the distance whence ttoy are to be viewed, but the di-
mensions of a drawing give it no additional claim to
notice. The situation in which a drawing is seen to
the greatest advantiige is when its horizontal line is
imniodiately in front of tho spectator's eye. and at
such a distance that the whole can be seen without re-
quiring tho heod to be moved. The beauty of linear
l)ersnectiye, more particularly in complicated architec-
tural subjects, can only be seen to perfection from one
point, and that is through an aperture immediately in
front of the point of sight. Tho eye being placed close
to an opening, in a card, for instance, and at auch a dia-
tance as to embrace the whole subject, overv lino then
becomes adjusted to the vision, and the dimi-
nution of aurfaco in tho drawing contributes
to the truth of the effect, according to the ap-
pearances in nature.

Representations of landscape scenery have
for numy years been made by mechanical ineana,
with the aid of the camera lucida, a species of
box provided with a mirror and lens, m which
the reprcaentationa fall, and aro therefrom
copied by an attending artist into hia aketch-
book. The idea of fixing representations of
this nature on the surface on which they fall,
by some chemical process, so as to save tho
trouble of copying, appears to have been enter-
tained by ingenious men both in France and
England; and at length the possibility of doing
so was made known at Pans in the month of
January 1839. The discoverer was M. Da-
guerre, aided, however, by one or two other
persons ; and he was rewarded by the French go-
vernment for making known the process which he
pursued in the art, which was henceforth called Da-
guerreotype, or 08 frequently Photography (that is,
drawing oy the action of light). Since Daguerre's
invention, various improvements and new discoveries
have been made in the art of photography — all of
which, as belonging more to mechanical and chemical
than to imitative art, will be treated in a subse-
quent number. Some parties no doubt make use of
Uiese photographs in the composition of their pic-
tures; out such a practice is more than questionable^
it is simply copying in the worst sense of the term,
and not trusting to that higher power of tracing and
imitating external forms which must ever distinguish
the legitimate artist from the empiric and pretender.

OHAMBKRffB INFOBILLTION FOR THE PEOPLE.

PAINTING AND BCULPTUIIE.

Drawing with blftok-lead pencila, chalk, or crayonr,
and Indian ink, constitute the fint steps in a study of
the fino arts. The more adranced studies refer to
drawing in water-colours, paintings in oil-colours, and
sculpture — three separate branches, individually fol-
lowed as professions. It is not our intention to offer
any instructions in these adranced departments of art,
but to say only a few words as to the manner in which
they are performed, and the advantages derivable from
a contemplation of their varied products.

Drawings in water-colours are executed on thick
hard paper, the outlines being lightly sketched with
black-lead pencil. The colours are prepared in small
oblong cakes; when required, a portion is rubbed
) down with water in a small saucer, and applied with a
camel-hair pencil. Great care is necessary in laying
on the respective colours; for the nature of the mate-
rial wrought upon, and the transparency of tho tints,
prevent that freedom in rubbing out or obliterating one
colour by another, which may bo resorted to in oil-
painting. For directions how to proceed, we refer to
a small and accessible .'ork on Water-Colour Drawing,
by Mr John Clark. (W. S. Orr & Co., Loudon.)

Oil-paintings are executed on a variety of materials,
but chirpy canvas, stretched on a frame; less frequently
on wood, oopper, and slate. The canvas or other ma-
terial requires to be prepar< i with a coat of paint, to
give it a smooth surface, and to prevent the absorption
of the colours afterwards laid on. The colours are
ground and prepared with fine nut, poppy, or linseed-
oil, and are ordinarily purchased by painters in blad-
der-bags, in a state ready for use. For convenience in
using, a small portion of each colour required in the
piece is placed on a thin oval board called a palette,
which is held in the left hand, by passing the thumb
through a hole at one extremity; the canvas frame is
generally placed on a stand called an easel, in front of
the artist, and the colours are applied with brushes of
fine elastic hair. The colours being opaque, the painter
has the opportunity of retouching his work, by putting
one colour over auother, when the previous colour has
been thoroughly dried. Oil-paintings are sometimes
executed on walls and the roof's of buildings; but paint-
ings of water-colours on walls are the most ancient.
Thase, known by the name of /ruco-painting, are done
while the surface of the plaster is moist, and admit of
no retouching when the plaster dries. Specimens of
fresco-painting hav<) been found in Herculaneum and
Egypt; still, after thousands of years, maintaining their
brilliant colouring.

The greater number of sculptures, ancient and mo-
dern, are executed in single blocks of white marble;
a few are in bronze. A sculptor connnences by draw-
ing his design on paper; when satisfied with this, he
proceeds to form a model of his proposed figure in
moist clay, supporting it partly by irons and frame-
work. Having, as he thinks, brought his model to per-
fection as respects attitude and surface, it is ready to
form a copy to work from; but as it is a perishable
material, he takes a cast from it in plaster, and this
cast serves as a mould for a fac-aimile model in piaster
of Paris. The plaster cast being hard and durable, it
is used OS the permanent copy by the diilerent work-
men. The first operative employed on it, by means
of a machine, takes off the rougher parts of the marble,
and gradually diminishes the block in the required
directions. The next is an able assistant, who brings
the figure still nearer in form to the copy ; and it
lastly passes under the hands of the sculptor, who gives
that tasteful finish and spirit which the nature of the
subjevi requires. Statues in bronze are cast in moulds
taken from finished models.

With respect to the advantages derivable from a
contemplation of the higher objects of art, they may be
defined as the education of the eye and of taste, which
is of particular importance to the . 'Ughtsman.

Addreiting ourselves again to tue pupil — you will
698

observe that nature, though truthful, is not alwavs con.
sistently beautiful or graceful. We see living human
figures less or more deformed, some tall and slender,
others short And ungainly, and a third class out of
proportion in the different parts of their person. Now
to set about copying figures possessing any of these
defects would be absurd; and you must in all cases en-
deavour to imitate only what is allowed to be nearest
to perfection. Taking mankind in the gton, exceed-
ingly few individuals come up to anything like a
perfect standard. Fashions of dressing and nabits of
living, independently of original defects of form, con-
spire to throw the figure out of just proportion; so that
a perfect man or woman, as respects bodily form and
carnage, is practically out of the reach of all ordinary
students. In London and elsewhere there arc life
academies, in which draughtsmen study from the bost-
r /med living figures that can be hired to exhibit them-
selves; and studies of this kind are indispensabl' jr
all who design following out the higher walks ol urt.
Studies from sculptured figures are nevertheless de-
sirable, because these are formed upor' the highest
ideality of grace, beauty, and perfecti'in; and u con-
templation of their exquisite proporti< ns is believed to
refine and discipline the tastes of the student. It is on
this account that we append the present observations
on this branch of the art.

The figures which afford a recognised standard of
perfection, are for the most part works of ancient
Grecian art. The period in which the highest concep.
tions of personal perfection were formed, was during
the admmistration of Pericles (about 440 years before
the Christian era). In this age flourished Phidit^a, the
greatest sculptor of ancient or modern times, who i'aised
art from a comparatively rude to a very high conditioti.
With him commenced what is called the ideal sli/k of
sculpture, in other words, a style aiming at an exalted
concoption of simple truth and grace. The religion of
the Greeks, which was the idolising of deified heroes
and heroines, offered the utmost scope for these lofty
conceptions. His masterpieces were the figures of
Pc.ilas Athene and Jupiter, his Venus Urania, his Ne-
mesis in the temple at Marathon, and his Amazon. He

Apollo IklviJcrc.

iau|ht a number of others, among whom Alcamenes of
Attica, and Agoracritcs of i'aros, were his favourite
pupils. Both these sculptors executed several works
which attained a high reputation. A contemporary
was the famed Myron of Kleiitheris in Docotia, who re-
presented highly-finished athletic fonns. His Runner,
nil Slinger, and his Pancratists, are celebrated. }\k

PAINTING AND SCULPTURE.

ideal of Hercules completed tlii? class of fonns. His
Heifer and his Sea-Monster are famous among his ani-
mal forms. But one thing vras wanting to this great
sculptor — grace of expression ; in this ho was surpassed
by a rival sculptor, who adopted the unc'i'Sfng line
of beouty, and first expressed the sip.ws an--. Tcins
with accuracy. He created the ideal i.r'/>pi ilo in the
position of an ^rcher, who has just shot the serpent
j?ython — the figure indicating in its expression a placid
satisfaction and assurance of victory. This splendid
work of art was found at Antiura, the modern Capo
d'Anzo, at tbo end of the fifteenth century. It was
purchased by Pope Julius II., then a cardinal, and
placed in that port of theA'&tican called the Helvidere,
whence it has been commonly named the Apollo Belvi-
dere. The fore part of the right arm and the left
hand, which hod been destroyed, were restored by
Angelo du Montorsoli, a pupil of Michael Angelo.
The ease of the attitude and excellent proportions of
the figure are universally admired. Our small outline
engraving affords but an imperfect idea of the majestic
original.

After the ideal style of Phidias and his disciples,
succeeded the period in Grecian art distinguished for
the beautiful. Praxiteles and Scopas were tho great
leaders of this improved style, in which beauty was
united with grace. The most celebrated works of
Scopas are his furious Bacchante — the head bending
backwards, uniting the highest beauty with Baccha-
nalian frenzy: his Cupid, his Venus, and his Achilles,
who is placed in a mournful attitude, contemplating
as if lamenting the loss of his friend Patroclus.
PraxiteloS; tho most feeling of all sculptors, created
the perfect ideals of Diana and of Bacchus; the latter
being designed by him as a contrast to the Satyrs and
Fauns, whose figures express rudeness and licentious-
ness. The figure of Bacchus was soft and tender, with-
out being cnerainate, and expressed perpetual gaiety
and sport. He effected also the admired statue of a
Satyr, and the ideal of Eros, or Cupid, which was that
of a playful boy. Praxiteles was the first to represent
Venus entirely naked, thus giving to the world a new
ideal of the goddess. His most celebrated works are
his Venus of Cos and of Cnidos; the former covered
from the hip downwards, the latter entirely naked,
holding her garment with her left hand over the bath.
The group of Niobe is also ascribed to this master.

.«u

Achillos. ' Venus do Mi\.iiip.

To the epoch which followed that nf Pruxiteloa is
usually ascribed tho statue of Venus, styled the Venus
de Medicis, from having been placed in tho gallery of
tho Medici at Florence, after its discovery at Tivoli in
lGi)5. It is of pure white marble, nnd .measures, ac-

cording to one authority, 4 feet 11 inches, and accord-
ing to another, 5 feet 2 inches, in stature. Some small
portions have been restored. It is not ascertained who
was the sculptor of this exquisitely-designed figure.
The pedestal exhibits the name of Cleomenes; but the
inscription is modem. It has been the object of tho
artist to represent Venus either, as just coming from
the bath, on the point of dressing herself, taken by
surprise, and full of modesty, or as appearing before
Paris for his judgment in the contest with Juno and
Minerva for the prize of beauty. By many the coun-
tenance is thought unintellectual, or at least unexpres-
sive. The graceful waving lines of the body have never
been surpassed; and, taken in different points of view,
they ofier a most advantageous study toe ideal grace
and beauty.

In this latter age appeared Lysippus of Sicvon,
Euthvcrates, Apollodorus, and others, among whom
staud. pre-eminent Polydorus, father and sons, of
Rhodes, who formed the celebrated group of Laocoon.
A number of great works of this era were executed by
Greek sculptors at Kome, to whom we are indebted
for many busts of distinguished Romans.

Among the numerous ancient sculptures, which, like
those already mentioned, have survived until modem
times, and been preserved in museums, may be men-
tioned the following as useful studies: — The Dying
Gladiator, a naked manly figure, reclining on his
shield, his weapon broken, and expiring from a mortal
wound in the side: The Three Graces, a group of
female figures in different attitudes, calculated to show
tho symmetry of the form in various positions : Anti-
nous, the figure of a graceful youth, in a simple atti-
tude, expressive of melancholy, and executed with
great correctness of proportion : Adonis, a figure some-
what more slender and elegant : Venus Genetrix, a
figure draped, and possessing a noble simplicity of ex-
pression ; the drapery hanging in the most elegant
folds, is in itself a study: Cleopatra meditating in a
reclining position: Laocoon, a group of figures above
referred to, consisting of a father and his two sons,
struggling in the folds of serpents, and strongly charac-
teristic of the distraction and suffering which may be
conceived to be endured in that dreadful situation: Her-
cules, a figure expressive of robust muscular strength.

After a lapse of nearly ten centuries, the art of sculp-
ture was revived in Italy, and thence spread to France
and other modern nations. Germany has latterly pro-
duced various sculptors of eminence; among these may
bo mentioned Dannecker of Stuttgard, and Tieck of
Berlin. Dannecker has executed, in pure white marble,
a figure of Ariadne seated on a tigress, in an attitude
of inexpressible elegance, and equal to the works of
ancient art. It is contained in a private museum at
Frankfort-on-the-Maine. Thorwaldsen, a Danish sculp-
tor, has likewise produced several works of striking
grandeur and beauty; not the least imposing of his
designs is the colossal figure of a lion carved in the
solid rock at Lucerne in Switzerland. Tho animal is
supposed to be dying from the effects of a wound from
a spear, and reclining over a shield emblazoned with
/lews de lis: it is a monument emblematic of tho
fidelity of the Swiss Guards who pericluid in defending
their master Louis XVI., on the 10th uf August 1792,
from the brutality of the Parisian mob,

Canova, an Italian (born 1757, died 1822), has been
justly esteemed the restorer of the graceful and lovely
in sculpture. All his works display a surprising degree
of softness and delicacy, and will form admirable studies
to the young artist, llis Cupid; Psyche, standing half-
dressed, with a butterfly; the repentant Magdalene;
Hebe, smiling and animated ; a Venus, partially draped ;
'tcncticence (several figures); Graces rising from the
b..th — are only a few of the works by which Cf.nova
gained his .great reputation. Modern sculpture has
likewise been distinguished by various works executed
in England by Flaxman, Chantrey, Westmacott, Baily,
and others. Modem art has almost reached the ancient
in the figure of Eve at the FountaiD, which is conceived
" 689

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

ill a style of pure simplicity and grace, with somewhat
more intellectuality in the featuivs than is generally
to be found in the Oreciau sculpture of female figures.

Eve at the Fountain.
Besides studying the manifold graces of ancient and
modem sculpture, with the view of improving the taste
in reference to figures, you are recommended to study
the styles and compositions of the more celebrated
painters, as nothing could be more suitable for impart-
ing correct ideas respecting drawing, disposal of groups
of objects, and colouring. Another great benefit will
consist in making you feel your own deficiency, and
how much you require to attain by diligent study.
Painting, you will learn, has, since the revival of art,
taken the character of schools, or peculiar styles, each
of which has had its leaders and followers ; for ex-
ample, there is the Florentine school, commenced by
Michael Angelo Buonarotti (born 1474, died l.')64),
who delighted in representations of the grand and ter-
rible. The lionian school, of whom lUiphacl (l4(i;{-
1520) was the head. The great characteristics of this
school are, truthful representations of nature, a just
expression of the passions, a chaste nobleness of design,
and correctness of drawing. The \'etictian school,
lieaded by Titian (1477-157(i), the characteristics of
which were the harmony of coloura, delicacy of tints,
and a judicioub contrast of light and shade. This
school was improved by Corregio and Tintoretto. The
German school, led by Albert Durer (1471-1.528) and
Holbein. The second Lombard school, distinguished
by the works of the three Caracri (1.5.55-1609). The
French school, founded by Nicholas Poussin (1.5.04-
1665), Vouet, and Charles Lc Brun. The Flemish
school was founded by Peter Paul Hubens (1577-1640),
whose design is dignified, his drawing of anatomy and
perspective correct, and his colouring brilliant. The
only objection to some of his figures is, that they are
too heavy; and certainly they want the grace of those
of Raphael. The Dutch school, of which the most pro-
minent painter is Rembrandt ( 1 6(16-1 ()6)l) , is less distin-
guished for taste than the faithful adherence to nature.
The works of the eminent masters in these various
schools were chiefly scriptural and historical ; and
scones of n miscellaneous kind, embracing landscapes,
figures, animals, sea-pieces, architecture, and other
subjects, were painted by contemporary artists, who
followed no particular school. Among these great
masters may be named Claud') Ueleo of Lorraine ( 1 60((-
1682), whose landscapes are exceedingly beautiful, his
colouring delicate, his tints tender, and his lights and
shades unrivalled ; Kalvator Rosa (161.5-1673), whose
taste was for the wild, rugged, and romantic aspects of
nature; Gasper Pouiisin (If! 1.3- 1675), whose pictures
are grand and remarkably true to nature. The six-
teenth and seventeenth centuries produced the follow-
ing musters, all of whose works are t-steeined; — Paul
Veronese, (luido, Carlo Muratti, and Spagiiiolletto —
historical; Murillo (Spanish) — -figures; ilobbima —
landscape; C'aiiuletti — buildings; and l)u Witt — the
interiors of uhurchus. Yernet, a Frenchman of the
640

eighteenth century, was celebrated for his sea-pieces
and figures. In the course of the seventeenth century,
Holland produced, but cannot be said to have encou-
raged, many distinguished painters. Among these art;
included David Teniers, celebrated for his representa-
tions of domestic and familiar scenes : Paul Potter,
renowned for his cattle pieces, the most remarkable
of which is his picture of a bull; it is contained in the
Royal Museum at the Hague, and valued at £51)00 :
Philip Wouvermans, noted for his landscapes, beautiful
skies, and scenes with groups of figures hunting, or
otherwise engaged in field-sports : Berghem, also noted
for his landscapes, his foliage, cattle finely drawn and
coloured ; the woodland scenes of this painter are ex-
quisitely finished and true to nature : Vandervelde, a
painter of naval victories and sea-pieces, all remarkable
for richness of composition and eifect : Gerard Douw,
like Teniers, famed for his domestic scenes. Jacob
Ruysdael, who painted in the style of Berghem, but
gained great celebrity for his representations of water.
All the eminent works of art, whether in sculpture
or painting, are now contained in a few great national
umseums, or in the private collections of men of taste
or opulence. The principal museums arc those of the
Vatican at Rome, the Gallery of the Medici at Flo.
rence, the royal galleries at Munich (now the head
school of painting and other fine arts in Germany),
the Louvre at Pans, the British Museum and National
Gallery in London, and the Royal Museum at the
Hague. If at all within the means of young men de-
sirous of pursuing professions in which taste in draw-
ing is requisite, we strongly recommend them to visit
the ^luseum of the Louvre, which is rich in ancient
sculpture and modern paintings: the sight of the many
tine works of art in Paris would scarcely fail to inspire
a high degree of refined taste. If unable to accom-
plish this desirable object, wo advise you to pay occa-
sional visits to any private collection to which you can
gain admission, and also to exhibitions and museums
open to the public. Among recent works of English
art generally accessible, the historical pieces of Haydon
and Hilton, the historical and pathetic pieces of Allan,
the grand architectural idealities of Martin, the church
and other architecture of Roberts, the landscapes of
Gainsborough, Calcott, Mulready, Thomson, and the
Nasmyths, the nniiuivls of Landsecr, the sea-views of
Stanlield, Turner, and Williams, and the faithful deli-
neations of humble life by Wilkie, and many other
works of art which might be mentioned, will afl'ord
much pure pleasure and instruction, and show what
can bo accomplished by a cultivated observation, and
a persevering desire to excel.

In the course of your observations you will leiirii,
that in the delineation of human figures great care re-
quires to be paid to historical costume and the fashion
of artificial objects represented. A person who lived
in the eighteenth century, for instance, should not Lc
dressed as an ancient Roman ; nor should the interior
of a house of the fifteenth be decorated like one of the
sixteenth century. On this account every student of
the fine arLs require? to be well instructed in history,
archaeology, and other branches of learning. With ■
respect to statues, it is so important to gi'.e an easy
an<i graceful cHcct, that a departure from exact costume
is allowable, so far as to place a loose garment over or
about the person. A due perception of the beautiful
and truthful in pictorial delineation must, however,
be in all cases a work of time. At first, the unpractised
eye, or, properly speaking, the untutored mind, will per-
haps be most charmed with a gaudy daub, and sec in
the finest work of art only a dull and valueless scene.
Hut the repeated conteiii|)lntion of pictures, the cnmini-
rison of one with another, and the constant reference to
actual nature, will remove such impressions; and the
work of tiuc iricrit stuntling apparent, will receive ihc
highest meed of approbation.

The lust advice we have to give is, put away all envy
of the progress of others, and be above those mean jea-
lousib;) vihiiM too often iiiipaii the character of the ui tibt.

GYMNASTICS-OUT-OF-DOOR RECREATIONS.

A DESIRE for indulging in active gporta and exercises
has evidently been given to youth for the admirable
purpose of promoting bodily health and strength, at a
period of life when mental occupation or sedentary
employment would not only have been unfitting, but
positively injurious. Instead, therefore, of railing at
the boisterous pastimes of boyhood, ridiculous as they
may sometimes appear, we ought to view them, so long
ns kept within the bounds of moderation, as consistent
with a great providential design in creation, and worthy
of our warmest approval and encouragement. Im-
pressed with these considerations of the value of youth-
ful recreations, particularly those carried on in the open
air, we should by all means afford reasonable scope for
all the usual and harmless sports in which young per-
sons are pleased to indulge; we should say to parents,
let the boy have his marbles, ball, nine-pins, and bat;
and the girl her doll, skipping-rope, and hoop, besides
any other toys which would call their respective facul-
ties into harmonious exercise. But an indulgence in
physical recreations and general amuscmentH is not to
terminate with the period of youth. In advanced a)id
middle life, it is of the greate&t inijjortance to health
to relieve the tasked brain, to soothe and compensate
the drudgery of our current labours, and to bring into
exercise those parts of our muscular frame and intel-
lect which professional duty has left unoccupied. To
young men, especially, whose frame re(juires regular
and bracing exercise, those out -of- dour recreations
which afford a certain degree of amusement are indis-
pensable; and to them the contents of the present sheet
are more particularly submitted. Our endeavour will
be to j)oint out what sports may with propriety be in-
dulged in, suitable to the different seasons of the
year, and how they may be pursued with advantage
to health and other circumstances.

GYMNASTIC EXERCISES.

Oymnastics are those exercises of the body and limbs
which tend to invigorate and develoi) their po-rvcrs.*
In an ordinary course of living, without due n gard to
rules for promoting bodily strength, the frame becomes
relaxed, the muscles are soft, the circulutiun of t)\e
blood languid, the bones and joints debilitated, and the
stomach weakened and dainty. To avert, as far as pos-
sible, these imperfections, gymnastics ought to f is a
part of education in youth, when the joints and niuocies
are Hexiblu, and time is permitted for the various kinds
of exercises. ' To be largely useful to the wellbeing of
the economy,' says Dr Hubertson, ' the exercise must not
be confined to any set or series of nmscular movements;
but, as far as possible, should bring into play nil the
.iioving powers of the body. It may bo said, in general
terms, tliat the greater the number of nmscles con-
cerned in the exercise, and the more completely it
involves the full contraction of each muscle, the more
influential will the exercise be.'

Precaution. — It has not been unusual of late yeais
to conduct the gymnastics of schools on an improper
tcale, by impelling young persons of comparatively
feeble frames to undertake feats and exercises which
have been at variance with the bodily organisation, or
at least highly dangerous, and of no practical value. A

* 'riio tcrai iii/mnailic, is from a Greek wonl sisTiifyini? iiahd,
the nthletic or ymin(j persons who iirnetiwKl bodily e.veicim's in
till' jiublie arena oi Kyinnii»iuiM of uneieiit (Irocee, being, for
freedom of motion , nearly in a smte of nudity. The more nentlo
kind of ^ynniastiea for females are termed eUUtlinikl, fium
words signifyuig elegant or L'nicefi:! (..verciues.
No. 'J\.

caution is necessary on this subject. * The best guide
we can have,' observes Dr Andrew Combe, in his work
on Physiology, ' is to follow the footsteps of nature,
whether it is in harmony with the mode of action as-
signed by the Creator to the parts v,-hich are to per-
form it. If it be so, we may proceed with perfect con-
fidence that it will not only improve the health, but
add to the freedom, elegance, precision, and strength
of our movements; whereas, if it be opposed to the
obvious intention of the Creator, we may rest assured
that no good can accrue from it. If, for example, wo
examine the various attitudes and motions of the body
which occur in fencing, dancing, swimming, shuttle-
cock playing, and some of the better class of gymnastic
exercises, we find that they are not less graceful and
beneficial to the young who engage in them, than pleas-
ing to those by whom they are witnessed — just because
they are in perfect harmony with nature, or, in other
words, with the structure and mode of action of the
joints, ligaments, and muscbs by which they are exe-
cuted. But it is far otherwise with some of the ano-
malous exercises which were at one time so fashionable,
and v/hich are not yet extinct in schools and gymnasia,
and which seem to have for their chief object the con-
version of future men and women into foresters, fire-
men, or savages, rather than into beings who are to con-
tinue to have the use of stairs, ladders, carriages, steam-
boats, and the other conveniences of civiliseil life. It
is no doubt a good thing for a boy to be able to climb
up a perpendicular pule or a slippery rope, when no
other means present themselves of attaining an im-
portant object at its upper end ; and it is an equally
good thing for a young lady to be able to sustain her
own weight hanging by one or both hands, when there
is no possibility of resting her feet on terra tirma ; and
where boys and girls aro strong enough to take plea-
sure in such amusements, there is no great reason to
hinder tliem, provided they ato impelled to them, not
by emulation or any stcondiiry motive which may lead
t )-cr-exertion, but by the pure love of the exorcise
In all ordinary circumstances, those only who
aij vigorously constituted will attempt them, and if
kit to themselves, will be sure to desist before any
I'.iirni (\c;i be done. But the case is entirely altered
when sucli extraordinary evolutions are not only en-
couraged, Li;.t taught to all indiscriminately, whether
they are strong or weak, resolute or tii\ud. We have
only to reliect fur i moment on the structure of the
shoulder joint, and on the sphere of action of the
! muscles surrounding il, to perceive at once that the
position of the one auJ the strain upon the other, caused
by the exercises alluded to, are so forced and unna-
tural as to exclude the possibility of the Creator having
intended either to be jjractised except upon occasions
of urgent necessity, and to discover how preposterous
it is therefore to make them a subject of general in-
struction. Nay, the very violence of the effort required
to sustaui the body when hanging by the hands, is far
beyond that moderate exertion which adils to nutrition
and to strength ; and in delicate subjects it may even
induce relaxation and stictching of the ligaments and
blood-vessels, and t'.us, as in the case of the young men
at Cambridge, lay the foundation for future and fatal
disease. The same remarks apply to a common prac-
tice of making the pupils slide down an inclined plane
resting on the hands alone, by whicli unnatural effort
the shoulders are pushed half way up the neck, a id
the wrists, arms, and ciiest severely tried, liut in these
and other similar evolutions, it requires only to look
at tlie dragging and distorti;;:! which they produce, and
which form sucii a iiaiuftil contrast to the case and

OHA&SBEBS'S INFORMATION FOU THE PEOrLE.

grace of all natural motions and attitudes, to perceive
that they are out of the order <.t nature, and that
neither health nor elegance can result from them. In
the selection of exercise2 for the young, then, we
should not be misled by a Tain desire of sufmounting
difficulties and performing feats at the serious rial^ of
inducing aneurism or rui'ture, but rather endeayour
to strengthen the body y active amusements, which
■hall call tbn social and moral feelings and intellect
into play at the same time, and by the practice of such
gymnastic evolutions only as tend to improve and give
tone to the natural action of the moving powers. And
in endeavouring to attain this object, we should be
always careful to avoid great fatigue, and to modify
the kind, degree, and duration of the exercise, so as to
produce the desired results of increased nutrition and
strength ; and to remember that the point at which
these results are to be obtained, is not the same in any
two individuals, and can be dis<;overed only by expe-
rience and careful observation.* With the precautions
suggested by these observations, the following gymnas-
tic ejiercises may bo pursued : —

Ocncral Directions.
Thr exercises are best performed in an open court or
^1' ce of ground, firm below, but without any stones to
injure the feet or person; a ftrass plot is the most suit-
able. The fittings are a olimbing Hand, vaulting bar,
l?aping poles, &c. The dress of the gymnast is to con-
sist of easy-fitting troucers, and encircled with a belt
or girth. The belt should pass round the loins, and
not be too tight. Thr, performances should be in the
forenoon, or at least before any heavy meal.

Positions and Mut'ons.
The body must be drilled in the art of
standing and throwing out the limbs. In
„ standing properly, the person should be
^Jl I erect, the head held up, and the face looli-
1 1 ing straight forward ; the shoulders are
)A to be square, with tlie chest fully exposed,
so as slightly to curve the back ; the legs
closed ; the heels in a line, and closed ; the
toes turned out ; the anus hanging straight
down ; the elbows held in to the body ; the
hands open to the front ; the little finger
touching the legs; and the thumb flat to the
forefinger. When perfected in the art of
' '*• '■ standing in this position, which is called at-
tention, as shown in fijr. 1., the next thing is to be
taught to march or walk, as in the case
of a soldier on drill, the feet being alter-
nately thrown out, ami both lirought to-
gether into position, at the order to halt.
The pupil next learns to bend the body
and extend the arms. The first exercise
of this kind is to carrv the hands to the
front, the fingers lightly touching at the
]iiiintB ; now raise the arms, the hands
still together, till they ore held over the
head, as in fig. 2.

Th second motion is to loam to hold

the aiins out in frc.it, the tips of the fingers

touchin;, and returning to the position of

fig. 1 : this is to be done repeatedly. The

extend the ha; do separately, and raise

--_ them over the respective shoulders, tho

fingers pointing upwards. The fourth

motion is to keep tho arms and legs

straight, and to bend the body f.;r-

ward, with tho head down, and the

tips of the fingers towards tlic ground.

This sontowhat dilficult motion is re-

prestTited in fig. 8,

A 5ifth motion is to resume the
position of attention, allowing the unns
to fall freely to their place, but still
witiioxit beu'lin;; the legs. Thusp mo-
tions are frying to the pupii, and should be done

FiR. 8.

gradually ; the great object is to exercise the muscles
bit by bit, and perfection is not desirable at first.
Then follow other motions — as throwing the arras
horizontally out in opposite directions, swinging the
arms, stretching them to the ftlll extent forward,
while the palms are in contact, doubling the arms
up so as to make the tips of the fingers rest on the
shoulders, making the palms come fully in contact
while the arms are thrown behind back, &c. In these,
it is of import'ance to exercise the left hand and arm
fully more than the right, in order to make them
equally active and strong.

Indian Club Exercises.

The pupil having advanced in simple personal exer-
cises, is supposed to be somewhat strengthened; and to
further the operation, he proceeds to the Indian club
exerci.ie. The main object is to expand the chest, and
increase the power of the arms. For this end sonic
sedentary persons regularly exercise themselves with
dumb -bolls; that is, heavy pieces of metil, one being
held in each hand. The club exercise is an improve-
ment ou that of the dumb-bells. The club bears a
resemblance to the ba*; for cricket, and varies in weight
froi-' t» .) to twelve pounds. One is used in each hand.
The iii!l>.'ing, according to Torrens, are the regula-
tion-exercineb now adopted in the army : —

* The recruit being placed in the position of atten-
tion, with a club in each hand pointing downwards, as
in fig. 4, must be exercised as follows : —

Firtt Part. — 1. At the word one, the
club in the right hand is slowly carried
round the head, until the hand arrives in
a perpendicular line above the shoulder,
with the large end of the club pointing in
a diagonal direction to the rear; 2. The
club in the left hand is raised in a similar
manner, and carried over that in the right
hand till it reaches a corresponding posi-
tion ; .3. The hands are carried slowly to
the right and left, until they become in a
true horizontal line with the shoulders,
the large ends of the clubs still remaining
to the rear; 4. The hands are brought
slowly to the first position. Care must be taken that
the recruit does not stand with a hollow back durini'
this and the succeed'ng practice.

Second Part — I. Raise both hands to tne front, ap-
proaching them close together, in hovizontal line with
the shoulders, the clubs being held perpendicular, with
the large ends upwards; 2. W'ith the body well poiseil
forward, separate the hands, and carry them to the
right and left line with the shoulders,
the large ends of the clubs remaining
upwards; 3. With the head well kejit
up, let the clubs turn over till they
point in a diagonal direction to the
rear, the hands s^ill remaining out in
a lin'^with the sli alders; 4. With the
arms extended, arop them slowly to
tho first position.

Thinl Part.- \. The club in the
right hand is circled round ujion the
rifiht of the body for a few revolutions
of the circle, or until the word halt
is given ; 2. The one in the left hand is
used in the same manner on the left of
the body, until the word halt is given,
when the recruit will remain perfectly steady in tin'
first position ; 3. With the body rather leanin^; for-
ward, circle both clubs at the same time, ou the right
and left of the body, until ordered to halt,'

LcapiiiK— Vaulting.
The simplest kind of leaping is that of jumping on
level ground from one point to another, with or without
a run. The run accumulates power in the person, or
inomentum, and enables a person to leap considerably
farther tLon without such on aid. < In all kindi of

GYMNASTICS.

Fi(r. 0.

In leivping without a

leaping,' observM Wftlker in his • Manly Kxercises,'
' it is of neat importance to draw in and retain the
breath at the moment of the greatest effort, as it gives
the chest more solidity to support the rest of the mem-
bers, impels the blood into the muscular parts, and in-
creases their strength. The hands, also, should be
shut, and the arms pendent. The extent of the leap
iu height, or horizontally, ia proportioned to the power
employed and the practice acquired. As it is per-
formed with facility only in proportion to the strength
exerted, and the elasticity and suppleness of the arti-
culations and muscles of the lower extremities, much
exercise is necessary to attain iha^ degree of perfection
which lesstns all obsticleg, and supin'os the means of
clearing them without danger. Lightness ?ad firmness
are the qualities necessary for leaping; everything
shoi'ld be done to acquire these two qualificatiotiB,
for without them leaping is '
neither gracefrl nor safe.'
Pupils bej.'iii by leaping
short distances and no great
height, and as they become
expert, the feat is increased.
To regulate the uxercise, a
leaping-stand is employed;
it consists of two movable
posts, about six feet high,
having, above eighteen
inches from the ground,
holes bored through them,
at the distance of an inch
from each other ; a rope
stretched across from pins,
and held tight by sand-bags,
ia the bar to be leaped over,
run, hold the legs and feet
closed, bend^ithe knees well up, hold forward the head,
and throw out the hands, as in fig. 6. Skill in throw-
ing forward the body with a jerk, thus doubled up, is
only acquired by experience. Let great cire be taken
to descend with an inclination forward, and to fall on
the fore -part of the feet, so as to touch the ground
lightly, and by the spring or elasticity of the feet and
limbs, to deaden the shock.

In leaping with a run, the run preceding the leap
ehould never exceed ten paces; the rise into the air to
take place at a distance from the cord equal to half the
height of the cord from the ground. Skill nhould be
attained in leaping from either foot, or from the spring
of both feet. It is considered a good leap when five
feet are cleared; a first-rate one is five and a-half; and
an extraordinary one six feet; few, however, ever reach
more than four feet. For a man to leap his own height
— that is, for a man of six feet to leap six feet high, or
a man of five feet eight inches to leap five feet eight
inches high — is usually considered the perfection or
ultimatum of the high leap. It may be noticed, how-
ever, that, all things considered, the man o*" medium
size (about five feet eight inches) is almost aiyfays the
mosv successful at this species of exercise.

What is gained in height is lost in distance. To
make a long leap, therefore, it is not necessary to go
high. The measurei.ient of long leaps is by marks on
level and soft ground, and he who clears th>j greatest
number of narks i« the most proficient. As in high
leaping, the body must be inclined forward, and the
Sijring made from the balls of the toes. To clear
twelve feet without a run is considered a good leap.
With a run of ten to fifteen paces, increased in velo-
city as the runner approaches the springing point, a
leap way be performed of fourteen or fifteen feet. In
this running leap, it is best to spruig from the foot in
which there is most proficiency, and to rise to a mode-
rate height from the ground; too low a spring defeats
the desired end, as must be evident to every one at all
acquainted with the doctrines of Projectiles.

Leaping from a high to a low situation is another
useful exercise. To acquire proficiency in it, begin
with moderate heights, and Icaru to fall softly on the

balls 01 the toes, or fore-part of the feet. If tlie fall
be upon the heels, the whole body is almost certain tf
be jarred, and the legs stove. Keep the body corai\.ct
in the descent, with the hands well forward, so that,
when alighting, the person may spring lightly up from
a crookea or bent posture.

Vaulting is that kind of leaping in vhich the bodt is
helped forward hv a momentatv leanliig on an object
by the hands. Tie art of vaulting may prove useful
in many circumstances in life, as, for Instance, in getting
quickly over a pal-
■ " ■ ■ , .^,<?'7i;)

irig, fc'.! ;e, or gate, to
elude danger. Exer-
ciios are performed
with vaulting b:-rs,
of which an illustra-
tion 'm given in fig.
7; thoy are of various
heights, and some are
shaped like a horse
with a saddle.
Vaulting

Fior. 7.
18 per- *

formed with or without a run. The spring, as Usual, is
from the toes; and resting the hands on the bar, the
legs are raised, and, by a jerk, pitched over to the other
side. The pupil is to learn to vault in this manner,
either towards the Jeft or right. When perfect in the
exercise, he learns to vault straight f^'ward over the
bar, between his hands, in which feat very great skill
is necessary in doubling up the body and limbs dur-
ing the spring. The methods of vaulting on and off
horse-blocks are innumerable.

Leaping with a pole is a combination of simple leap-
ing and vaulting, and is also a most useful and an ele-
gant accomplishment. The pole should be smooth, light,
and from seven to ten feet
long. Held in the hands, as
represented in fig. 8, the left
hand below and the right
above, the pole is planted
with its lower point on the
ground, and by a spring from
the left foot, the body is im-
pelled through the air to the
desired distance.

In performing this exer-
cise, the pupil must learn not
to lean too much on the pole,
and not to keep too close I'ig- 8.

to it. The knack of pole-le.ping is, like all other
kinds, dependent on the spring of the feet, and the pre-
sence of mind in throwing the body forward lightly and
gracefully. The best plan is to begin with short leaps
across ditches, and to increase the distance as expert-
ness is acquired. Whsn tlie method of springing from
a fixed situation is acquired, proceel to advanced prac-
tice by making a run, a rapid plant of the pole, and a
spring to a considerable distance, as across a brook of
twelve or fifteen feet iu width.

The next step is to learn to vault over p high object
by means of the pole Two posts and a cross cord, as
in fig. !), are usually employed in
this exercise. The leap is taken
by a run, and * upon this run,'
observes Walker, ' principally de-
pend the facility and success of the
leap. Asthesf'ngcan take place
only with one foot, and as this
must arrive correctly at the spritig-
ing place, it is necessary that the
order of the steps should be ar-
ranged so as to effect this object.
The fixing of the pole in theground
and tlir spring must take place at
the ^ame instant, because by that
lueana tile jpper and lower mem-
bers operate together ; no power is lost, and the swing
is pcri'-rnied with the greatest facility. The leaper
I must carefully observe that the spring of the foot, and

643

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

the plant of the pole, are in the direction of (in a line
with) the preparatory run.'

Carrying Wolghti).

A regular course of gymnastics embraces the art of
lifting and carrying weights; but lessons in these exer-
cises must be conducted with much caution, and only
when the body has been otherwise well disciplined.

In lifting a weight, power is best exercised by doub-
ling the body, as if about to sit down; the hands then
grasp the ring of the weight placed between the feet,
and the body gradually straightening, the arnu rise
with it, and lift what is in the hands. By thid means
the whole force of the body is exerted, and no part
more than another.

Loads of any kind are most advantageously borne
on the back and shoulders, with the body erect. The
arrangement of knapsacks on the backs of soldiers is
on this plan, the weight depending from each shoul-
der, nd not hanging too low. The closer the load is
to the shoulder, the shorter is tlie lever, and the less
the pull on the point of resistance.

A man exercises his power of draught with the
"■catest advantage by pulling a rope over his shoulder,
i'jr in this case ho throws forward the weight of his per-
son, and he acts both by muscular energy and weight.
The least advantageous exercise of his power is to carry
r. load up a ladder; for he has to carry up his own
weight as well as the load which is on his shoulders.

Walking— Running.

The art of walking with ease, firmness, and grace,
forms a necessary part of gymnastic or drill exercises,
''ew persons walk well naturally ; the constraint of
<rcss, distortion from labour, or b>td habits of some
kind, geiieially contributing to give a slounge to the
figure, and an awkwardness to all the motions.

To walk gracefully, the body must be erect, but r jt
stiff, and the head held up in such a posture that the
eyes are directed forward. The tendency of untaught
walkers is to look towards the ground near the feet;
and some persons appear always as if admiring their
shoe-ties. The eyes should not thus be cast downward,
neither should the chest bend forward tc throw out the
back, making what are termed * round shoulders;' on
the contrary, the whole person must hold itself up, as
if not afraid to look the world in the face, and the chest
by all means be allowed to <>xpand. At the same time,
everything like strutting or pomposity must be care-
fully avoided. An easy, firm, and erect posture, is
alone desirable. In walking., it is necessary to bear in
mind that the locomotion is to be performed entirely
by the legs. Awkward perse ns rock from side to side,
helping forward each leg alternately by advancing the
haunches. This is not only ungraceful, but fatiguing
Let the legs alone advance, bearing up the body. In
setting down the feet, let the outer edge of the heel
first touch the ground, nnd the sole of the foot bear
and project the weight ol the h I v. The length of step
is of course to be determined / the length of limb.
Efforts at taking long steps, out of proportion to the
power of motion, are always ungraceful. Uockoning
from heel to heel, or toe to toe, the length of a military
step ut drill march is thirty inches, which is consider-
ably more than the length of ordinary steps in walking.
The length of step at a moderate pace, of a man five
feet nine inches high, is usually twenty-four inches ;
and this will be found a convenient length for most
perwnf to acquire the habit of using.

The motion of the arms to and fro, in cadence with
tlie movements of the legs, greatly helps the loronio-
tion, and is advantageous in exercising 'he muscles of
t) e shoulders, und expanding the chest. The motions
o; the arms, however, should be on a moderate scale,
tb : hand^ not swinging through a greater space than
cijht or nine inolics before and behind the leg. The
pr,.ctice of working forward the shoulders and swing-
ing the arms at a ;.-reat rate is most odious. It may
be added, that the art <,i comporting toe hands— that
641

Fig. 10.

is, of keeping them down in an easy, quiet position,
and without meddling with the person — is one very
necessary in polite behaviour, and should be acquired
by all young persons, before bad habits are confirmed.

Running is a rapid leaping kind of walk, the leap
being from each foot alternately, and the motion being
promoted bv throwing forward the weight of the per-
son. The following are Walker's definitioni of running,
which we illustrate by fig.
10: — 'The upper part of
the body is slightly inclined
forward ; the head slightly
thrown backward, to counter-
act the gravity forward ; the
breast is freely projected; the
si. aulders are steady, to give
a fixed point to the auxiliary
muscles of respiration ; the
upper parts of the arms arc
kept near the sides ; the el-
bows are bent, and each forms
an acute angle; the hands are
shut, with the nails turned
inwards ; and the whole arms
move but slightly, in order that the muscles of respira-
tion on the chep^ may be as little as possible disturbed,
and follow c il/ the impulse communicated by other
parts. Thert! exists, in fact, during the whole time of
running, a, strong and permanent contraction of thu
muscles of the shoulder and arm, which, though very
violent, is less serviceabhi +11 the extended movements
than to keep the chest iii):uovabIe, toward which the
arms are brought closn, the flexors and adductors of
which are especially contracted.

At every nn-p the kn les are stretched out, the logs
kept as straight as possible, the feet almost graze tlie
ground, the tread is neither with the mere balls of the
toes nor with the whole sole of the foot, and the spring
is made rapidly from one foot to the other, so that they
pass each other with great velocity.

Speed, and still more duration in rtinning, are in
proportion to the development of the lungs, and conse-
quently the volume of oxygen and blood which they
can combine in their parenchyma at each respiratory
movement. Thus of two men, one having the abdo-
minal members developed, and the other possessing
good lungs, the former will run with the greatest speed
for a short dista; ce; but if the distance be considcralile,
he will soon be gained upon by the latter. A runner,
after performing a certain space, is seized with a diffi-
culty of breathing long before the repetition of tlio
contractions has produced fatigue in the abdominal
members. To excel, therefore, in running, requires,
like walking and dancing, a peculiar exercise. As the
muscular contractions depend, for their principle of
excitement, on the respiration, the chest should be
firmly fixed, so as both to facilitate this, and to serve
OS a point of support for the etl'orts of the lower mem-
bers. The best runners are those who have the hen'
wind, and keep the breast dilated for tLo longest time.

During the whole time of running, long inspiratiuiH
'vnd slow expirations are of the greatest importance;
and young persons cannot be too e.arly accustomed to
this practice. To facilitate resj^iration towards the end
of the race, the up-er part of the boily iiiJiy be leant a
little forward, lluniiing should cease as soon as the
breath becomes very short, and a strong perspiration
takes ])lace.'

Kxercises in running should commence with very
moderate distances, and for short periods of time; and
great or fatiguing feats are only to be attempted after
the body and lungs are strengthened by training.

inAINlNO.

The method of training in modern times for pedes-
trian feats and other 'aborious undertakings, does not
differ materially fro.n that pursued by the ancient
(ireeks. The great obi cct is to increase the muscular
strength, and to impicivp the free action of the lungs

Gymnastics.

or wind of the person lubjected to the proceu. The
nieani adopted to accompliah the end in view is eva-
cuation, to cleanse the stomach and intestines; sweat-
ing, to take off the superfluous fiit and humours; daily
exercise, to strengthen the muscles and nystera eene-
rallv; and a peculiar regimen to invigorate the nody.
And to this we add the use of the tepid bath, to remove
impurities and promote a healthy action in the skin.
We present the following graphic account of the pro-
cess of training from ' Walker's Manly Exercises : ' —

' The most effectual process for training appears to
be that practised by Captain Darclay, which ha* not
only been sanctioned by professional men, but has met
with the unqualified approbation of amateurs. We are
here, therefore, almost entirely indebted to it for detiv' s.
According to this method, the pedestrian, who may be
supposed in tolerable condition, enters upon his training
with a regular course of physic, which consists of three
doses. Glauber's salts are generally preferred; and
from one ounce and a-half to two ounces are taken each
time, with an interv.°<'. uf four days between each dose.
After having gone through the course of physic, he
commences his regular exercise, which is gradually
increased as he proceeds in the training.

When the object in view is the accomplishment of a
pedestrian match, his regular exercise may be from
twenty to twenty-four milus a dav. He must rise at
five in the morning, run half a mile at the top of his
speed up-hill, and then walk six miles at n moderate
pace, coming in about seven to breakfast, which should
consist of beefsteaks or mutton-choi)s under-done, with
stale bread and old beer. After breakl^ist, he must
again walk six milrn at a luodevnte pace, und at twelve
lio down in l^cd, \vii.hout his clothes, lor half an hour.
On gettin; j), he must walk four miles, and returii by
four to diinier, which should also be beefsteaks or
mutton-chops, with bread and beer, as at breakfast.
After dinner, he muat resume his exercise, by running
half a mile at the top of his speed, and walking six
miles at a moderate pace, lie takes no more exercise
for that day, but retires to bed about eight ; and next
moniing he proceeds in the same manner.

Animal diet, it will be observed, is, according to this
system, alone prescribed, and beef and mutton are pre-
ferred. All fat and greasy substances are prohibited,
as they induce bile, and consequently injure the sto-
mach. The lean of meat contains mure nourishment
than the fat; and in every case the most substantial
food is preferable to any other kind. Fresh meat is
the most wholesome and iiuurishing. Salt, epiceries,
and all kinds of seasonings, with the exception of vine-
gar, are prohibited. Tiie lean, then, of fat beef cooked
in steaks, with very lit lie salt, is the best; and it should
be rather under-dono than otherwise. Mutton, being
reckoned easy of digestion, may be occasionally given,
to vary the diet and gratify the taste. The legs of fowls
are also esteemed.

It is preferable to have the meat broiled, as much of
its nutritive quality u lost by roasting or boiling. It
ought to be dressed so as to remain tender and juicy;
for it is by these means that it will be easily digested,
and iiilbrd most nourishment. Biscuit and stale bread
are the only preparations of vegetable matter which are
permitted to be given ; and cvcything inducing flatu-
lency must be carefully avoided. In geneii \ the quan-
tity of aliment is not limited by the irair -^r, but left
entirely to the discretion of the pedestrian, v hose ap-
petite should regulate him in this respect.

With respect to liquors, they must be alw.ays taken
cold; and home-brewed beer, old, but not bottled, is
the best. A little red wine, however, may be given to
those who are not fond of mal* liquor; but no .er More
than half o pint after dinner. It is an established rale
to avoid liquids as much as possible; and no more
liquor of any kind is allowed to be taken than is requi-
site tn quench the thirst.

After having gone on in this regular course for three
or four weeks, the pedestrian must take a four-mile
sweat, which is produced by running four miles in faau-

nel at the top of his speed. Immediately on returning,
a hot liquor is prescribed, in order to promote the per-
spiration; and of this he must drink one English pint.
It is termed the sweating liquor, and is composed ot one
ounce of caraway seed, half an ounce of coriander seed,
one ounce of root-liquorice, and half an ounce of sugar-
candy, mixed with two bottles of cider, and boiled down
to one half. He is then put to bed in his flannels, and
being covered with six or eight pair of blankets and »
feather bed, must remain in this state from twenty-five
to thirty minutes, when he is taken out, and rubbed
perfectly dry. Bein|; then well wrapt in his greatcoat,
he walks out gently tor two miles, and returns to break-
fast, which on such occasions should consist of a roasted
fowl. He afterwards proceeds with his usual exercise.
These sweats are continued weekly till within a few
days of the performance of the match; or, in other
words, he must undergo three or four of these opera-
tions. If the stomach of the pedestrian be foul, an
emetic or two must be given about a week before the
conclusion of the training. He is now supposed to be
in the highest condition for his feat.

Besides his usual or regular exercise, a person under
training ought to employ himself in the intervals in
every kind of exertion which tends to activity, such as
golf, cricket, bowls, throwing quoits, &c. so that, dur-
mg the whole day, both body and mind may be con-
stantly occupied. Although the chief parts of the sys-
tem depend upon sweating, exercise, and feeding, yet
the objei^t tn be attained by the pedestrian would be
defeatinl, if these were not adjusted each to the other,
and to his constitution. The trainer, before he pro-
ceeds to apply his theory, should make himself ac-
I iiuainted with the constitution and habits of his patient,
that he may be able to judge how far he can with safety
carry on the different parts of the process. The nature
of the patient's disposition should also be known, that
every cause of irritation may be avoided; for as it
requires great patience and perseverance to undergo
training, every expedient to soothe and encourage the
mind jould be adopted.

The skilful trainer will, moreover, constantly study
the progress of his art, by observing the effijct of its
processes, separately and in combination. If a man re-
tain his health and spirits during the process, impvove
in wind, and increase in strength, it is certain that the
object aimed at will be obtained ; but if otherwise, it
is to be apprehended that some .iefect exists, throuj.'a
the unskilfulness or raisinaaagement of the trainer,
which ought instantly to be remeiiied by such altera-
tions as tlie circunstanccN of the case may demand.
It is evident, therefore, that in many instances the
trainer must be guided by h"; J^'lrfment, and that no
fixed rules of nianagemen'., cin, witn a'u^olute certainty,
be ilependc.il uj-on for producing an invariable and
determinate result. In general, however, it may be
calcuLited th;vt the known rules are jidequate to tho
purpose, if the pedestrian strictly adhere to them, and
the trainer bestow a moderate degree of attention to
his state and condition during the progress of training.
It is impossible to fix any precise period for the
completion of the training process, as it depends upon
the previous condition of the pedestrian ; but from
two to three months, in most cases, will be sufficient,
especially if he is in tolerable condition at the com-
mencement, and possessed of sufficient perseverance
and courage to submit cheerfully to the privations and
hardships to which b« must unavoidably bo subjected
The criterion by whicn it may be known whether r.
man is in good condition — or, what is the same thing,
whether he has been properly trained — is the state of
the skin, which becomes smooth, elastic, and well-co-
loured, or transparent. The flesh is also firm, and the
person trained feels himself light and full of spirits.
In the profreas of the training, his condition may also
bo ascertained by the cficct of the sweats, which cease
to reduce his weight; and by the aianner in which he
performs one mile at the top of his speed. It is as
difficult to run a mile at the top of one's speed as to

645

CHAMBERS'S INFORM ATIOV fOI THE PEOPLIS.

walk a, hunilndt And therefore, if he p«rform« tbii
trial wall, it in»y be concluded that hii coiiditiuu i«
perfect, or (hftt he b»* derived all the advantage! which
cai) poHibl^ reiult from the traiitiug proceu.'

PROBBTIIUN' FEATS.

Prepared by training, and acting under certain pre-
caution* a* to food a|>'l ratt, a perion nmy perform
rery aurpriiing featt of pedeatriauiiini. llu may, for
initance, completely out-travel a horse, by walking for
daye contiuuouily from thirty to forty niilei, and yet
be aa freah at tbo end of hii journey aa at th«) begin-
liiiig' Without preparatory training, however, the
moat fatal iujuriua may be committed in attempting
pedeatrian feata. We muat oti'or aumo precautionary
advicea on thia aubject : —

Adviooi to Young Men on Walking Kxcursiuns.

Young men who break away from regular, and por-
hapa aedontary, employi. il:, to take a walking excur-
aipn of a few days in the ruunt y, often commit aucb
grievous errors aa mar their enjoymonta, and deprive
tbemaelrea of all the benefit they had calculated upon
aa the proper result of an exemption from ordinary
duty. With soft and relaxed frames, they in many
inatancoa address themselves to walk such a distance
each day aa only could be conveniently walked by a
peraoii uucuatomcd to auch taaka. Accordingly, by the
end of the second day at furtheat, their feet are all over
with blisters, their strength is completely exhausted,
and their whole syat«in is in u fever of nervoua agitar
tion, the consequence of enormous voluntarily-incurred
gulforing. The next morning, perhaps, sees them a
little recovered, and, with their small stock of renewed
Btrungtb, soaped stockings, and a vigorous resolution,
they set out upon the third day's travel, which pro-
bably concludes by leaving them in u worse state than
fjefore. There is no timo, however, to wait for a perfect
recovery; so they travel on, and probably complete
their excursion in a miserable dragging fashion, glad
to get over the country without enjoying it, so that
they only have the prospect of being again speedily at
home and at rest.

This is the unavoidable consequence of ignorance
and want of reflection. The excursion might have
been a source of pleasure instead of pain, and might
have added considerably to the youth's stock of ideas,
instead of leaving him disgusted with the country and
with nature, if he had only proceeded upon right prin-
ciples. He ought to know that the body, after being
long under the influence of a sedentary profession, or
of ordinary city life, is not in a istate fit for undertak-
ing great fatigue. When soldiers, after being a con-
siderable time in garrison, are about to undertake a
^ong march, they usually are led out to take short walks
each day for about a week beforehand, every day's walk
lengthening a little, until (hey become fitted for the
aerious task. Thia they call being beat into a marali.
It is a practice founded on right physiological prin-
ciples, and Worthy of being followed by every indivi-
dual ill like circumatauces. In the walks of the first
two or three days, young pedestrians should not set
themselves to any certain number of miles, but only
walk as far aa they feel their strength will agreeubly
carry them. Thus they will gradually acquire power,
instead of losing it, and in the long-run become good
walkers, enjoying the country, moreover, om they go
along, and leaving off with an increased love of nature,
and a disposition to have another such excursion at
the first opportunity.

Young travellers, and old ones too, often make a
great niiaiake with regard to eating. They suppose
that, uav rig much fatigue to undergo, they o\ight to
eat a great deal ; I'nd the excitement of novelty, and
the tempting and unusual food presented at inns, enable
them to curry out thia idea i^to practice. In a few
daya, however, they find thenmelvea unaccountably m-
wull. This is the consequence of simple over-eatii g,
for in traveUiiig there is uu need lor more food tk.u

uiual. Vood ia ftlto taken %i wrong itmei, and of wrong
kinds. It ia not unoommon for young pedeatriana to
walk ten or twelve niilea bafore breakliwt.. nut ao much
for any economy of time or money, aa under the im-
preasion that they will have a oupUal «)ipetita at the
end of their walk. Aa they go alonu, (he;ir ilelight (hem-
selvea with reflectiona a* to how tbey will aatonith the
waitera, how freah relays of egg* will be called for, and
rolh vanish like morning dreama. Alau I when they
have walked their dozen milea, their frames are in a
atate the moat uniuited for the receipt of a full meal ;
and if they are able to eat larj^oly, it will bo the worse
for them after. The whole aun here ia the very re-
verse of what it ought to be. A very full meal should
never bo taken on a pedeatrian excuraioiu, and that
simply for the roaaon that there i« no time to digest a
very full meal, A breakfaat or dinner during a walk- >
ing excuraion, when only a little tiuio can bo allowed
for rest afterwards, should be light. Whether light
or heavy, the longer the rest afterwards the better —
that ia, of course, within a reasonable liniit. Certainly
the rest should not be less thua three-quarters of an
.Mour ; and if a heavy meal lutve been taken, half an
hour longer will be required ut the very least.

Many young travelleri have the prudence to faro
Rli<;htly during their day'a walli, but on getting to their
inn in the evening, tbey make all up, aa they think, by
ttiking a great compoaite meal — dinner, tea, and aup-
por rolhd into one. If, as often happena, thia be taken
pretty 1 ite, the tea kee])s them awake half the night, by
virtue of its exciting power. Uut it may act ii\juriou8ly
in a'.other way. When much of it ia taken in propor-
tion to the aolida, it preventa digestion. The gastric
.juice, it roust be understood, requires that what la sub-
mitted to it should possess a certain solidity. It is for
this reason that nature hag ao arranged, in the case of
Bucking infants, that the milk curdles immediately after
being taken, the gastric juice being thereby enabled to
catch hold of it. When a young man, after exhausting
h'a onergiee by a long walk, fills hia atomach with a
great blashy meal, he con\mita one of the greatest of
imprudences. The gastric juice gets mixed and con-
founded with the mass, and several hours will elapse
before any progrusii whatever be made in digestion.
Many is thu ulcepless night endured on thii account on
summer excursions. It is obviously necesaarv that, if
tea ia to be taken at all at a late hour, it should be
weak, and in quantity strictly proportioned to the solids
taken at the s.ime time. Weak coffee, however, ought
always to be preferred to tea, if to be taken near bed-
time, as its exciting power is much less.

The rules here laid down arc all of them grounded
on natural principles, which will be found more par-
ticularly explained in phyaiological works — those, for
instance, of Dr Combe and Dr IU>bertson, which are by
fiar the moat intelligibly written, at the same time that
they are even more philosophical than most others.
(See No3. (i, 4.5, and 46 of this aeries. Vol. I.) By at-
temling to such rules, a rural excursion may be made
very delightful, and may have the beat ettects on both
body and mind ; while neglect of them aa certaiiily
must entail pain and disappointment.

t'uptuiu iiarelay's Feats of Walking.
Captain 1(. liarclay Allardioeof Ury, an enthusiastic
cultivator of manly sports, is well known aa having some
years ago peilbriiied various remarkable featn of \)tidoS'
trianism, and his mode of walking is well worthy of
notice. Pierce i^gan thus writes of his performances : —
' His style of walking is to bend forward the body, and
throw its weight on the knees. His step ia short, ami
his feet are raised only a few inches from the grouml.
Any person trying this plan will find his pace quickened,
and he will walk with more ease to himself, and be
better able to endure the fatigue of a long journey,
than by walking perfectly erect, whicJi throws too much
of the weight of the body on the ankle-joints. He
always uses thick-soled shoes and lam ba'-woolstoukiugii,
which preserve the feet from injury.'

OUT-OF-DOOB HJCRKATIONB.

I, »nd of wrong}
p«dei(rikut to
it., not 10 much
under the im-
ipiietits u( thu
I delight them-
ill Hitoniih the
called for, and
w I when they
rbiiie« are in »
uf ft full meal;
tU bo the worne
ii the very ro-
ill nioal ihuuld
rsioin, and that
tinui to digett a
during a walk- *
can lo allowed
Whether light
da the better—
imit. Certainly
i-quartora of uu
t taken, half an,
y leoat.

prudence to fare
i getting to their
i» they think, by
or, tea, and sup-
ine, this be taken
lalf the night, by
»y act iiyuriou»ly
taken in propor-
lon. The ^aatrii;
that what w sub-
olidity. It is for
;ed, in the case of
immediately after
hereby enabled to
, after exhausting
I itomach with a
>f the greatest of
I mixed and con-
kours will elapse
ade in digestion,
m this account on
necessary that, if
lour, it should be
.ioued to the solids
je, however, ought
taken near bed-

qdB>

jf them grounded
s found more par-
works — those, for
tson, which are by
ihe same time thut
than most otbera.
!8, Vol. 1.) By at-
sign may be made
jest ertects on both
them as certainly
it.

iValking.

Try, an enthusiastic
own OS having some
ii,l)lo feats of peilus-
/ is well worthy ot
lis performances ;—
ward the body, and
is step is short, and
!8 from the ground,
his pace quickened,
to himself, and be
of a long journey,
idi throws too mucli
) ankle-joints. 11«
mbs'-wool stockings,

W« havt not ipier to include an account of thii
TOJ-ious eztrftonlinary faatt performed by this able
pedo4trian, and shall only notice hit famous match with
Sir Webstar in October ItlOtl. *The captain tngagtid
himsvlf to go on foot a thousand miles in a thousand
sucoMsivo hours, at the ratn of a mile In each ?M
evory hour, for a bet of one thousand guineas, to be
peifonned at Newmarket heath, and to start on the
'•lilowing Ittof June. In the intermediate time, i.lio
captain was in trailing by Mr Hmith of (>wston in
Yorkshire. He started on his match at twelve o'clock
lit night on 'i'bursday, the Itt of June, in good health
luid high spirits. His dress from the commencement
varied with the weather. H(.nu>times he wore a flannel
jacket, sonietimea a loose grivy coat, with strong shoes,
and two pair of cotuso stockings, the outer pair boot-
stockinga without feet, to keep his legs dry. He walked
in a sort <>f lounging gait, without any apparent ex-
traordinary iixeition, scarouly raising hia feet two
inches above the ground. During a great part of the
time the weather was very rainy, but he felt no tncon-
venioncc from it; indeed, wet weather was favourable
to his exertions; as, during dry weather, he found it
neoosiiary to have a water-cart to go over the ground to
keep it oool, and prevent it becoming too hard. To-
wards the conclusion of the performanoe, it was said,
tliu captain suffered much from the spasmodic attbction
lit his legs, so that he could not walk a mile in less than
twenty minutes; he, however, ate and drank well, and
bets were two tu one and fire to two on his completing
his journey within the time prescribed, About eight
days before he finished, the sinews of his right leg
became muoh butter, and he continued to pursue his
task in high spirits, and consequently bets were ten to
one in his t'avour iu Loudon, at Tattersall's, and other
sporting circles.

On Wednesday, July the 12lh, Captain Barclay com-
pleted his arduous undert 'iing. He had till four p.m.
to finish his task, but he performed the last mile by a
({tiartcr of an hour after tJiree in perfect ease and great
spirit, amidst an immense crowd of spectators. The
influx of company had so much increased on Sunday,
that it was recommended that the ground should be
roped in. To this, however. Captain Barclay objected,
saying that he did not Uke such parade. The crowd,
however, became so great on Monday, and he had ex-
perienced so much interruption, that he was prevailed
upon to allow this precaution to be taken. For the last
two days he appeared in higher spirits, and performed
his lost mile with apparently more ease, and in a shorter
time, than he had done for some days past.

With the change of weather he had thrown off his
loose greatcoat, which he wore during the rainy period,
and walked in a flannel jacket. He also put on shoes
thicker than any which he had used in, the previous
part of his performance. When asked how he meant
to act after he had finished his feat, he said he should
that night take a good sound sleep, but that he must
have himself awaked twice or thrice in tho night to
avoid the danger of a too sudden transition ftom almost
constant exertion to a state of long repose. One hun-
dred guineas to one, and indeed any odds whatever,
were offered on '^Vednesday morning ; but so strong
was the confidence in his success, that no bets could bo
'"itained. Tl e multitude who resoi -ed to the scene of
action in the course of the concluding days was un-
precedented. Not a bed could be procured on Tuesday
night at Newmarket, Cambridge, Bury, or any of the
towns or villages in the vicinity, and every horse and
vehicle was engaged. Among the nobility 'ind gentry
who witnessed the conclusion of this extraorlir.ary per-
formance, were the Dukes of Argyle and St /.Iban's;
Earls Grosvenor, Besborough, and Jersey; Lords Foley
and Somerville ; Sir John Lade,, Sir r. btandish, kc.
&c. The aggregate of the bets is supposed to havt
amounted to i: 100,000. Upon the whole. Captain Bar.
clay must be viewed as a most extraordinary man ; his
feats exhibiting the extent of vigour that the human
frame derives from exercise.'

OUY-OF'DOOR nKORBATIOHB.

■WIUMINU.

The art of iwimmlng is so exceedingly useful, not
only t,i a bracing summer exercise, but a* a means of
preserving life when accidentally plunged into the
water, that it should bo acquired by every young per-
son. It may be pei formed either in the ic» or in
ritrois; but the sea is preferable, as salt water is of a
greater spcnfic gravity than f'esh, and has the greater
power of buoying up the body. Whether in fresh or
salt water, however, the body is lighter, bulk for bulk,
than the mass of ii!)uid displaced, and consequently
will flout if a small aid bo given by the impulsion of
the hands. It is also important to observe, that the
more th« body is immersed in the water, the mor«
easily is it sustained. Thus if only tho face is left
above tho surface, the buoyancy will be much greater
than if the whole head or the head and bands were
exposed. When personn unskilled In awimming ftro
piuiiged .'it'> the water, as, for instance, by the upset-
ting of u (Oftt, they ought, for the reasons now men-
tioned, not to Ptriis?le, splutter, and hold tho hands up,
but remain tranquil, with as little above water as pos-
sible; diaw in the breath go as to fill the lunge, and lus-
tain themselves by a pt^ddiing motion with the hands.

Pniollcal Directions for Swimming.
The best season for bathing iu the sea or rivers is
summer and autumn, and the time of day most pre-
ferable is the morning before breakfast; the next best
time is before dinner. Immediately after dinner, or
when the stomach is full, is injurious. A person also
should never bathe twice in one day, or continue in
the water more than twenty minutes at one time. To
avoid the danger of propelling tho blood to the head, by
stepping suddenly into cold water, always wet the head
first. Bathing is best performed when entirely naked;
but if this be untiuitable, short drawers may be used.

Young persons or others unskilled in swimming
should not on anv account go beyond the depth of
breast-high, till they oro able to buoy themselves up
freely. They can commence their lessons in swimming
by throwing themselves forward, and trying what will
be the eft'ect of a throwing out of hands and feet, keep-
ing only the head above the surface. Some persons
tie corka or bladders about their neck or breast ; but
this we discommend as dangerous. A preferable plan
of learning to swim is to receive the aid of a person
skilled in the art, who will help to buoy up the learner
with hia hand, and withdraw hia assistance gradually.
In ordinary circumstances, however, any young per-
son may acquire the art himself.

The learner having thrown himself forward, he must
draw his head back, elevate his chin clear of the sur-
face, project his breast, hollow bis back, and be firm
and collected. Fear roust be entirely thrown aside.
Instead of putting down the hands, as if to grope for
something, which is a very common error, throw the
hands boldly forward, and strike out with them. The
plan of doing this is first to bring the hands together,
with the fingers close, and the thumbs closed to the fore-
fingers ; then strike out with the palms undermost,
and slightly hollowed. Tbe Lands must not touch tho
surface in striking, but make a sweep level with the
breast, and as far out as possible. Next, they are to
be drawn back with a rapid movement; in this re-
traction the elbows are to be bent, and the hands droop-
ing downwards, so that as little obstacle as possible
may be presented to the water. The hands being
brought together as before, they are to be struck out
ia the satue manner; and so on.

The hands furnish only half the means of advancing,
The other half are the legs, which must be sent out
behind with a jerk to their full extent, the uoles push,
ing against the water. The position of tho swimmer in
the w'iter is indicated in the followuig cut, fig. 11,
in which it will be seen that the body slopes from the

647

OnAHBEBS'S IWFOIUrATION FOR THB FDPLE.

neck tu the fcnt. To adrAiice prnperljr, rvnd lecure
rot"'lar buoyancy, tho hamU and feet muit act altor-
iiat. iy, th6 arm* detcemJiiij? wMlo th« Iflgi are irining,
atid tho ariui riaing while the icgg are deweudiiig.

I'ljc. II.

Beiidei regulating the action of the hands and feet,
the iwiniiner niuit regulate his broathine. The breath
ia to be inhaled when the body ia riaing l>y the deacent
of the hiutda, and when the mouth ia cleari v above the
tufile of the water. Thi* Alia the cheat with air at the
luoment inoat advantageoua to do ao. I'he breath ia to
hn expended at the next impulse forward l>v the Icga.
hjuine penona, in leaniing to awiin, acquire the habit of
brmtting, or riaing high out of the water at every stroke
of their urma ; thia mode of awiniining ia not only un-
graceful but fatiguing ; a good and timtoful awimnior
advances aniouthly through the water, with a moderate
rise, and at a moderato and steady rate of apeed.

There are various fanciful modes of swimming ; one
of these ia swimming with the back downwards, as re-
presented in fig, 12. In
this case, the head ia
' more immersed than in
onlinary swimming, and
conseiiiiontly less labour
is required to buoy up the
body. The method em-
ployed ia to lie gentiv
back in the water, with
the hands on the t'aighs, and to strike out the legs as
in front swimming. By swimming on the back little
progreas is made, and 'i \* chietiy useful as a relief
to the arms.

Another means of f(li>ivnic the fatigue of awimmiiig,
ia to float on the ;■- !: i.;i< a very gentle motion of

the lega, in the position
' -'■■'"li:"'- "

represented in fig, 13,
The arms are extended,
the chin and mouth ele-
vated higher than the
forehead ; and the water
is to be agitated as little

Ffg.lt.

Fig. IS.

as possible, so as not to enter the n.-^x^'^

Swimming with one arm is sometimeii usoful. To
perform thia feat, the head should be held more back-
war<,l than usual; the swimmer hold himself more erect;
the logs and arm must be exercised pretty quickly; and
with force the hand should be struck out against the
body, and so brought down before, the arm extended
its full length for every stroke. The swimi,u-r • lust,
however, be very careful to keep his breast inti.tced, as
this mode of swimming requires more than ordinary
dexterity. Should tho swimmer draw in his breast
imprudently, when hit] arras are raised, he would im-
mediately sink to the bottom.

Diving is the art of descending rapidly in the water,
and requires to be done with address. The best method
consists in drawing in the breath, placing the two hands
together as a cut-water in froitt, and then to plunge
head foremost, causing the forehead to receive the force
of the fall. lii tnking the water, the eyes, for safety,
sboula be suui; but they may be o])ened when beneath
the surface, when the body aasunies the swimming atti-
tude. Swimming below the water is ho exceedingly
easy that it requires no directions.

Mr Frost, in his small work on ' Scientific Swlm-
niing,' presents the following practical rules for spor-
tive swimming: — ' To spin with ease, the person should
be somewhat buoyant; the breast must be well inilatcd,
and the attitude may be that of sitting with the feet
crossed. It is effected by etibracing the water with

nach hand, alternately, on the same aide. In order io
lurn to the right, the water must be embraced r-i.t
each hand, alternately, on the right side ; and 'n 'mu\
to the left, on the leflb side. This action cimaei ', e<r'
cular or spinning movement, which increiisc.i ii. \ ^>
citv aa it is continued. Of all thi> playful w .ya of
swimming he ever know, the authitr cunsi Vrs this to
be the moat curiou<r. lie has seen bays a)H.,tively roll-
ing along the stream, and conceived it very niu< tu
resemble the juvenile ; i. '«m«nt, on a suinnior lay,
of rolling down a driii (i. The ktreum is the moat
favourablfl nltu;ition f i 2..iiing, as it very much aseiats
the turn. To xehiere thia, the person inunt lay him-
self straight across the current ; ho must inJlute hii4
breast, and hold his head very fur backward ; his legs
may either lie together or be crossed ; he must excr-
else his hands in the same manner as in spinning. Hy
this alternate action of the hands, with the oAsistance
of the stream, some persona will roil along in ii pleas-
ing and extraordinary manner.' He then mentions
quadruped swimming ; but neither the posture imr
action is agreeable,

lu some cases cramp takes place in the water, and
the swimmer requireii to be ]irepared fcr its attacks.
The following ilirectioiia by Walkfr, acted upon with
due self-possession, conijiriao all that need bo said in
this place on this subject: —

' As to cramp, those chietiy are liable tn it who plunge
into the water when they aro heated, who remain in it
till they are benumbed with cold, or who exhaust
themselves with violent exorcise. Persons subject to
this affection mutt be careful with rugard to tho selec-
tion of the place where they bathe, if they are not suf-
ficiently skilful in swimming to vary tlioir attitudes,
and dispense instantly with tho use of the '-mb attacked
by cramp. Even when this docs occur, tho skilful
swimmer knows how to reach the shore by the aid of
tho limbs which are unaffected, while the uniiistructed
one is liable to be drowned.

If attacked in this way in the leg, the swimmer must
strike out the limb with all his strength, thrusting the
heel doivnward, and drawing the toes upward, notwith-
standing the momentary pain it may occasion ; or ho
may immediately turn flat on his back, and jerk out the
affected limh in the air, taking care not to elevate it so
high as greatly to disturb the balance of the body. If
this docs not succeed, he must pa<ldle ashore with his
hands, or keep himself afloat by their aid, until assist-
ance reach him. Should ho even be unable to float on
his back, he must put himself in the upright position,
and keep his head above the surface by merely striking
the water downward with his hands at the hips, with-
out any assistance from the legs.'

8KATIN0.

This is a hi^ly-exhilaratingand healthful out-of-door
pastime in winter, when rivers and ponds are frozen,
and offer a clear surface of ice. The art of skating con-
sists in poising the body on a sharp ridge of iron be-
neath the sole of the foot, and advancing ou the ice i:i
that position, one foot relieving another. As a very
slender base will support i.ny mass of matter kept in
motion, skating is by no means a difficult art, and re-
quires only courage, quickness of eye, and delicacy of
taste, to render the perfonuancei elegant.

A skate is a well-known app tratus of wood and iron,
with straps and buckles to attach it to the foot, Tho
skate for each foot i.nust be alike. The iron should not
be deeper than three-quarters of an inch, and smooth
or flat along its under edge; only boys' skates should
be grooved, to take better hold of the ice. The iron
should be a quarter of an inch thick. The edges should
be smooth, free from rust, and sharply ground.

Pmctiial Dircctionfl for Hkating,
We beg to offer the following directions to the young

skater, chiefly from the work of Mr Walker : —

' Either very rough or very smooth ice should bo

avoided. The person who for the first timo attemptit

Ot/T-OP-DOOR HECREATIONfl.

I the young

should be
^e attempts

to »ki\l« muit not truit to & itick. Ho niny inuko a
frieiiJ'l hnnd hia aup)i<>rt, if he require omd; but that
iibould b« loon rtiliiiqinalied, in order to hiilAiiee hini-
Mlf. lie will probably sctniiibte nbout fur Imlf aii hour
or " ', till he beKiiia I i find out where the edge uf hii
ikuiti ii. The )i«;{iiiner niuit bo fearlvai, but not vio-
lent, nor «ven in a hurry. Me shniiM not let ait feet
^et far apart, iinil keep his hct^U Ktiil nearer ^ethur,
He inuHt keep the ankle of tii .' foot on the icr i|iiite
tinn; not attein|>(int{ to gain the ed^e of the skate by
bending it, becauao the right modu of getting to nitliar
edge ia by the inclination of the whole body in tho
(lliection reciuirod; and thiainclinatidn ahould be made
fenrleanly and deuiHivuIy.

The It'g which in on the ico should bo kept iierfcctly
atraight; for though the knvo niii8t be soiMowhat bunt
at the time of atriking, it muxt be straightcncil aa
quickly aa poaaible, without any jerk. The log which
ia ott' the ice ahould alao be kept utraigh' 'tough not
atiff, having an eaay but alight play, Ov nomtin^

downwards, and the heel within froi twelve

inches of the other.

Tht.' learner must not look d. '

hia feet, to see how they perfurni.
oliiie hia body a little forword, for aai ^s

hvan' up, and ace where he goes; his p ud

hia t cv rather elevated than othcrwiae.

W hen once oil", ne must bring both feet up togi'thor,
and Btriki' again, aa soon as he finds hiniHolf steady
enough, rarely allowing both feet to be on the ico to-
gether. The position of the anna ahould bo easy and
varied, one b^ing always imiro raised than the other,
this elevatidu being alternate, and the change corres-
ponding with that of the legs; that is, the right arm
being raised as the right leg is put down, and vice nrsA,
80 that the arm and If'g of the same side may not be
raised together.

The face must be always turned n the direction d
the line 'iitended to be described. ILonce, in b.ickward
skating, the head will be inclined much over the shoul-
der; in forward skating, but slightly. All sudden and
violent actiuii must be avoided. Stopping may be
caused by slightly bending the knees, drawing the feet
together, inclining the body forward, and pressing oti
the heela. It may alao be caused by turning short to
the right or left, the foot on the side t.- which wo turn
being rather more advanced, and 8ui jjorting part of
the weight.

The first attempt of the beginner is to walk, and this
walk shortly becomes a sliding gait, done entirely on
the inside edge of the skat?.

The first impulse is to be gained by pressing the in-
side edge of one skate against the ice, and advancing
with the opposite foot. To effect this, the begiimer
must bring the feet nearly together, turn the left sor .-
what out, place the right a little in advance, and at
right angles with it, lean forward with the right shoul-
der, and at the same time move the right foot onwards,
and press sharply, or strike V\o ice with the inside edge
of the left skate — care being taken instantly to throw
the weight on the right foot. While thus in motion,
the skater must bring up the left foot ne.arly to a level
with the other, and may for the present proceed a short
way on both feet.

Ho must next place the left foot in advance ii\ ita
turn, bring the left shoulder forward, inclining to that
side, strike from the inside edge of the right skate, and
proceed as before.

Finally, this motion has only to be repeated on each
foot alternately, gradually keeping the foot from whicii
he struck longer off the ice, till he has gained gufficient
com nand of himself to keep it off altogether, and is
able to strike directly from one to the other, v.'ithout at
any time having them both on the ice together. This
must be practised till he has gained some degree of
firmness and power, and a command of bis balance.'

Thus accomplished in the rudiments of the art, the
skater may proceed to learn the forward roll, which is
the first step to figure-skating. * The impulse is gained

in the same manner ai for tho ordinary run; but td
get on the outside edge of the right foot, the moment
that foot is in motion, the akatcr mutt advaiK^e the left
ahouldur, throw the right arm back, look oT«r the right
ahoulder, ami incline the whole peraon boldly and de-
cisivoly on th.it aide, keeping the left foot lutpondod
b('hin(l. As he proceeda, he mutt bring the left foot
pant the inaide of the right with a alight jerk, which
proil' cs an mipoaing balance of the body; the right
fool 111 >t (|uickly |)rcH, first on tho nutaidu of the heel,
then oil th<^ inaide, or ita too; tho left foot mutt bo
placed down in front before it is removed more than
about night or ten inches from tho other foot; nnd by
striking ontnido to the loft, giving at the same monii^nt
a strong push with tho inside of the right toe, the
skater piissca from right to left, inclining to the left
siilo in the same manner as ho did to tho right. H<)
then continues to change from left to right, and **
right to left, in tho same manner. At first ho i- '.«''.. ii
not remain long uron one leg, nor temple occpof>jai!;»
to put the other down to aiisiat; and throi . <'t^ i/.i
must keep himself erect, leanitig most on th ,a«'<.'

Having attained this proficiency, there will be lit^n
ilitliculty in describing any figure, formed by a combi-
nation uf circles or semicircles, 'flic figure It is a
favourite among clever skaters, and also the figure 3,
both forward and rovurscd.

Skating on ice of doubtful strength is accompanied
with great danger, aa in an instant the skater may find
himself sunk to the neck in water, and be drowned
before assistance can bo rendered. Much of this danger
may be obviated by wearing a mfely-cape, which ia a
looae cape, of some waterproof fabric, inflated with air.
\Vc recommend every skater to uae by all means a cape
of this kind while pursuing hia amusement on the ice.

CUllLINO.

Curling is a game of great antiquity and jiopularity
in the southern and western parts of Scotland. It is a
winter ganie, played on the jce; and where tlio rivers
and pond : are frozen, usually supersedes all other out-
of-door amusements. As the ice requires to be umch
thicker than for skating, it is usual to form ponds so
Hliallow that the whole water in them becomes a frozen
mass capable of bearing up any weight.

The game is played by a party forming rival sides,
I each individual being possessed of a circular hard
I stone, of about nine inches in diameter, flat and smooth
on the under side, and on the upper, having a handle
fixed to the stone. Kach player is likewise anncd
with a broom to sweep the ice, in order to accelerate
tho progress of the stones; and his feet are ordinarily
furnished with trampets or crampets, which help to
steady him in taking his aim. A large, long, open
space of ice, of from thirty to forty yards in length, and
eight or nine feet across, called a rink, being cleared,
and a :nnrk or tee being made at each end to play to,
the contest takes place by each person hurling or caus-
ing his stone to slide towards the opposite end of the
rink. A certain number being the game, the object of
each side is, which will have the greatest number of
stones nearest the tee; and all play from end to end
alternately till this is ascertained. To hurl these stones
with precision, in this species of sport, is exceedingly
difficult; much depending on the keenness of the frcst,
the tone of the ice, and the truth of the stone. Some-
times the best and oldest players are baffled by begin-
ners, simply by their curling-stonej having taken a bias
to one side or another; and frequently, after the best
players have placed their stones in a cluster round the
tee, one rapid shot from an antagonist will disperse the
whole in all directions round. Occasionally it also
happens that, in hurling, the stones come far short of
the mark; but if they do not get beyond a line called
the hopg score, they are dragged aside, and are not
counted. A more than usually extensive match is
called a bonspiel.

Such is a meagre outline of the game of curling,
which, all over tih«) lowlands of Scotland during the

649

S^ v> ^

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

•^' ^,V 4^,

1.0

I.I

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►

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Corporation

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V'^o

GHAMBEBts vmsKHtmim yp« vm pkopls.

riven nor ponds, the inhabitant! usually resort for
the ainusement of curling, as well as skating, to the
adjacent beautiful small lake at Duddingston, lying at
the south-eastern base of Arthur Seat. Here a most
animated scene is exhibited during the period that the
waters of the lake are frosen. Numbers of rinks are
cleared, at which may be seen playing together persons
in almost every shade of society — professors of the
university, clergymen, private gentlemen, merchants,
tradesmen, and artisans — all meeting on a common
level, and engaged in the same spirit-stirring pursuit;
for in curling there is no aristocracy of feeling, and so,
for the time, a universal saturnalia prevails. The
game of curling is eulogised by more than one Scottish
poet, particularly by Orahame, who thus commences a
description of the sport : —

' Npw rival parishos and aliricvcdoma keen,
On upland loclia, the long-cxpcetcd trysl,
To play :helr yearly bonspiel. Aged men,
Sinit with the eagerness of youth, are there.
While love of conquests lights tlieir beamlesa eyes,
New-nerves their arms, und makes them young onco more.'

In Mr J. M'Diarmid's ' Sketches of Nature,' we find
the following spirited account of this delightful and
invigorating winter game : —

* The time is not distant when the game of curling
was little known out of Scotland, or even within it,
benorth the Forth. But the taste for this manly sport
has increased greatly of late years; and in various
parts of England, as well as of America, the broom
and the channel-stone are put in requisition with the
same regularity that winter comes round.

In the whole range of rural sports, I know nothing
more exhilarating than a spiel on the ice, where the
players are numerous and well-matched — the stakes a
dinner of beef and greens — and the forfeit the honour
of rival parishes. All around is blank and dreary — the
snow-flake freezes as fast as it falls — the sun seems
level with the horizon's verge — the hills make the spec-
tator cold to look at them — and everything, in one
word, conspires to complete the picture of a winter's
day. Uut the courage of men bent on the favourite
aniusement of curling is not easily damped by the
inclemency of the elements ; on the contrarv, their
spirits seem to mount as the thermometer falls, and
nothing pleases them more than a feeding storm, and,
along with that, the prospect of a long lease of " their
roaring play." Arrived at the scene of action, all is
bustle and animation, till the stones have been distri-
buted, assorted, claimed — rinks measured, tramps
fiHteiied, tees fixed, and the order of battle completely
arranged ; and as these preliminaries are speedily settled,
to it the parties set with all the anxiety of those who
contend for a much higher prise. Lots, perhaps, are
oast for the first shot, and the greatest novice invited
to deliver the first stone; and should his arm lack the
proper pith, that instant a dozen brooms are raised to
help the laggard over the hogg aeore. A WQopd, a
6fi0

third, % fourth lucoeedi, and m on, till tlia line itMtchat
4 tolerable length; and each man is warned by his re>
spective friends to plant, if possible, an ecoellent guard
— dislodge this stone, and covet that— open up one port,
and close another— play soft or strong, evtside or in-
side, as the occasion may require — and steer as closely
hy the signal broom as the «aariner, when warned by
similar devices, threads his watery way through sand-
banks and shallows.

As the animating sport deepens, it is amusing to con-
trast the bustle that obtains in one little spot with the
stillness that broods over the external world. While the
hills above are silent and dark, the shining lake below
is instinct with life, and resounds with sounds of mirth
and glee, which, borne along on the elastic air, invade
the solemn loneliness that reigns around, till echo itself
takes up the tale, and repeats in broken fragments the
curler's vocabulary. At length, as the mo/e veteian
players advance to decide by their skill the fate of the
Me, the interest becomes intense, and gives rise to so
)iiany calculations c " what is to be done, and what
avoided, such bustling to and fro, as must appear a
perfect myster)' to the uninitiated. The last wary shot
booms athwart the ice as if impelled by magic, and while
every port, to an onlooker, seems closed, finds its way,
under the guidance of a powerful arm and steady eye,
through passages rivalling the intricacy of the walls of
Troy. Then follow the shout of victory and the mur-
mur of defeat, till the contest is renewed under the
mingled emotions of hope and fear — the vanquished
trusting that the tables will be turned, and the con-
querors confident they will remain the same. Speedily
the eager players are marshalled, and the broom put
in requisition as before; again the stones boom aWay
and away, meandering here, meeting there, and whirl-
ingfrom the collision like the urchin's top at school;
again shot succeeds shot, and game follows game,
until the conclusion of the bontpiel, or the approach
of evening, proclaims that it is time thf. sport should
surcease, and the combatants wend their way to the
nearest claohan, to enjoy their favourite feast of beef
and greens. And now the scene changes entirely,
though, as the savoury viands load the board, all feel
the effects of the keen mountain air, and make so good
a use of their time while the opportunity serves, that
the business of eating becomes nearly as noisy as the
business of play; rounds of corn-beef, flagons of home-
brewed, disappear with a rapidity that is truly asto-
nishing, and of which no adequate conception can be
formed by persons whose appetites were nevor whetted
by a day on the ice.'

Laws and Regulations fbr Curling.
In the year 1838 was instituted the Grand Caledonian
Curling Club, for the purpose of uniting all curlers into
a ' brotherhood of the rink,' and of regulating the
game by general laws, which have now Wn adopted
by all local curling associations. From the Annual
published by the club we extract the following as the
rules of the game : —

' 1. The length of the rink shall bo fbrty-two yards ; any devia-
tion oeeusionud by peculiar circumstances to be by mutual
ugreemeut of purtiuB. When a ganiu is begun, the rink is not to
be lengthened nor shortened, unless by consent of the majority
of players.

[It is advisable that rinks have double tecs at each end, tlie
one ut least two yards behind tho other, the wliole four to be us
nearly as pusslblu in tho same line. TItu stones arc to be du-
Ilvered from tlic outer tee, and |>layed towards the inner; this
saves tlio ice from being injunxl around tho tee played up to.]

8. The rink shall be changed in all cases when, from the spring-
ing of water, the miijority of players cannot make np. Neither
the winning nor losing imrty have right to oltjuot, as all contests
must be decided on the fiiir and oquitab)o principle of science,
not of strength.

3. The number of shots in a game, if not otherwise mutually
fixed upon, sbaii be twenty- one.

[A game more frequently consists of thirtasn sliots, or even of
seven, tlian of any otiiurs, when an liour or two's practice only is
intended ; but this is a matter of private arrangement.

In a bonspiel or match, when a considerable number of players
apjxiars on each side, tho aggrsgate number of shots gained in a
tixsd tiuiu is nut only as oqultable a mutbod, but affords amuse-

OUT-OF-DOOB B^OBHATIQKD.

mnant to all t1i« tifit \o tbf) pqncliubm, mtd ought to be uni-
voiwaUy adopted.]

4. The hogs' score to be one-atxth part of the length of the rink
ftoin the teo. Every atone to bo congidered a hog which does not
dear a Bqtiaro placed upon the score.

5. Every rink to bo composed of four players a side, each with
two stones, unless otherwise mutually attreed upon. In no case
shall the same individual or party playtwo stones in succession,
and every player shall deliver both his stones alternately with an
opponent, before any other of the same side or party play one.

i. Parties to draw outs which shall fill the ice at the first end ;
after which the winning party at the last end or garou of that
day's play shall do so. No stono to be counted which 4oes not
lie within seven feet from the tee, unless it bo previously other-
wise mutually agreed upon. In cases whom each party has a
stone equally near the tec, noitlier to be counted, and the win-
ning party of the previous end is again to fill the ice. Measure-
ments to be taken from the centre of the teo to that port of the
stone which is nearest it.

7. Each player to place his feet in such a manner as that, in
delivering his stone, he shall bring it o\ .ir the tee. A idayar
stopping aside to take a brittle (or wick), or other shot, shall
forfeit his stone for that end. A jdayer, after delivering his last
Htono, slmll not remain longer than to see his next opponent fit
his tee, but shall take bis place at the other end between the
score and the previous player of his own party ; and shall on no
account remain to give directions to the next pf his piuiy who
plays.

8. If any player shall improperly speak to or intorrupt another
while in the act of deliv^ing bis stone, one shot diall be added
tn the s<wre of the party so intorrupted.

y. The rotation of play adopted at the beginning must bp ob-
served through the whole game.

10. All curling stones shall be of a circular shape. No stone
inust be change)} throughout the game, unless it happen to be
broken, and then the largest fragnient to count, without any
necessity of playing with it more. If a stono rolls and stops npon
its side or top, it sluill not bo counted, but put otf the ice. Should
the handle quit the stono in the delivery, the player must keep
held of it, otherwise he will not be entitled to replay the shot.

11. If a player plays out of turn, the stono so playcnl may bo
stopped in its progress, and returned to the player. If the mis-
tako shall not be discovered till tlic stunn is again at rest, the
opposite party shall havf: tlie option to odd ono to their scoro,
and the game prooeed in its original rotation, or, to declare the
end null and void.

13, In double-soled stones, tho side commenced with shall not,
inider forfoit of the inat<:h, be changed during the progress of tho
game.

[Double-soled stopes are those in which tho handle can be
shifted from ono side to another; ono side being slightly concave
for keen icu, and the other convex for dull ice.]

13. The sweeping department to 1)0 under tho exclusive con-
trol of tlie slupper. No sweeping to bo allowed by any party till
the stone has p^sed the hogs' score, except when siiow is foiling
OF driftiiig, in which ci^ae it shall ho adn>issiblo to sweep from too
to ti-e. "The player's party may sweep when tho stoiiu has passed
the furtl)ur hogs' score, his adversaries' when it bus passed the
tep. Sweeping to bo always to unu siife. Previous tq each direc-
tion being given, either party is entitled to sweep the rink

CICQU.

14. Parties, before beginning to play, to take different sides of
the rjnk, wliicli they are to keep throughout the game ; and no
player, on any pretonce, to cross or go ui>on the midille of the
rink. Tho skippers alone to stand about tho tee. Their respec-
tive parties, according to their rotation of play, shall take their
position down to the hogs' score.

15. If in sweeping, or otiicrwise, a running stone be nurred by
any of the party to which it liclongs, it shaU bo put off the ice.
If by any of tho adverse party, it shall be placed wliere the skip-
per of the party to whom it belongs shall direct. If nutrred by
any other means, the player sliuU take his shot again. Should a
stone at rest be accidentally displacod at any part of tlie end be-
fore the case provided for in rule 13 comes into operation, it shall
bp put as nearly as possible in its former ixjsition.

16. Every pbiyer to come provided with a besom, to be ready to
play when his turn cumos, and not to take more than a reason-
able time to throw bis stones. Should he accideutolly play a
wrong stone, any of tlio players may stop it while running ; but
if not stopped till it is again at rest, it shall be replaced by the
one which he ought to have played.

17. No measuring of shots oilluwable previous to the termina-
tion of the end. Disputed sliots to bp determined by the skippers ;
qr, if tlicy disagree, by some neutral i itaoa mutually chosen by
tliem, whose decision shall be final.

18. Should any played stone be displaaed before tho last stone
is tlirown and at rest, by any of the party who are lying the shot,
tliey shall forfeit tho end ; if by any of the losing party who have
tile stono yut to play, tliey sliall be prevented from playing tluit
stune, and liave one point de4uoted fropi tbeh: score. The num-
ber of shots to be marked by the winners to he decided Ijy the
majority of tho players, the ofibnder not liaving a vote.

IS). The skippers shall liavo the exclusive regulation and direc-
tiju of tho game, and may play in what part of it they please ;
but liaving cliosen their place at tho beginning, tlicy must retain
it till the end of the game. The players nuiy give tliuir adviuu,
but cannot control their director ; nor are they upon any pretext

to addroB* tltequplvea to th* penon alioat to ploy- ^cb ikipper,
when his own play comes, fhall name one of hl« party to take
charge for him. Every player to follow Implicitly the direction
given him.

M. Should any qqestion arise, the d«tpnniD«tloi) of which ia
not provided for by the words and jpirit of the mlea now estab-
lished, it may be referred tq the three nearest members of the
representative committee, uneonnictcd with the disputing par-
ties, who shall form a district coinmittw of reference, and whose
duoision shall be bhiding on all ccncemed till the annual general
meeting of the representative couunittoe, to whom sithet party
may appeal vte ease,'

CBICKBT.

This ia perhaps the best of all out-of-door sports for
youth. It requires quickness of mind )tnd e^e, great

stones or shrubs; it should also be dry, »nd of sufficient
dimensions to allow of a good blow to the ball and run
— a square field of three or foiir acres is a good size.
The apparatus required in the game copsists of b^Hs,
bats, and wickets. The dress of the players should be
light and easy — a white woollen jacket, cap, linen
trousers, and shoes provided in the soles with points to
prevent slipping in runnine : in Londoii tlte^e afe shoes
made purposely )or cricketing,

Cricket is played in two distinct forms; one is called
Single Wicket, and the other Double Wicket. We shall
first give an outline of Single Wicket.

Sitigle Wicket. — This game is played by any number
of persons, but generally /ve arc on each party or side.
Three straight rods or itur^p!>, twenty -seven inches
high, are stuck iu » row in tho ground ; on the top of
the stumps are laid two p'lices of wood called the tail,
and so placed that they will readily fall ofi' if the
stumps be hit by the bal.!. This apparatus is called
the tciokct. At the distance of four feet four inches in
front of the wicket is a mark on the ground called the
popping-crease. Iu a straight line with the wicket is a
mark on the ground called the bowling-creaie, which is
parallel to the bowling-crease.

An individual taken from one party is appointed
bowler ; his duty is to bowl his ball towards the oppo-
site wicket, which he does by a short run. An indi-
vidual from the antagonist party is appointed iottet- v
his duty is to stand with his bat placed with its tip on
the ground at the popping-crease, and to oppose the
progress of the ball, or to prevent it from knocking
down his wicket. He must Also endeavour to strike tho
ball smartly, so as to send it to a distance on the field.
The field is in charge of the party to which tho bowler
belongs ; these are termed field-men, or field ■keeper*,
and each has an appointed place, from which he taKes a
peculiar designation : one is named the leg-hit, or long
stop, another the off-hit, a third the long field on, a
fourth the long field t\f. Their duties are to catch the
ball when either struck or missed by the batter.

If the ball be missed by the batter, he remains at his
wicket, and the ball is reti^med by the long stop to the
bowler. If the ball be struck, and to such a distance

651

OHAMBBBlra iNtdBllAtaOir foil T^ PE0PL8.

tlikt the tuktter thbki he eonld ran to the bowling-
creMe, touchibg it with hii b«t, and return to hie pop-
ping-creaie, touching it »Iio before the ball ii returned
and ttrikee the wicket, he doef lo; and if he perform
thii feat racoMifulljr, it is called one run, and oounti
one toward! the nme. Sometime! he strike! the ball
to !uch a great diitanoe that he can ran to and fro
twice, and this count! two; if three times, it counts
three; and so on. These are termed runt or noUAet,

l^ould the bowler knock down the wicket, the bat-
ter retires, and this finishes his inning. His inning is
also finished by the wicket being knocked down with
the ball hr tuaj of the field-keepers, if he be off his
ffrotud. The mnine may likewise be finished (as it
frequently is) if the batter strikes the ball into the air,
and it be caught by any of the batter's antagonists
before it reaches the ground, and retained long enough
to be thrown iip again.

Double WiMel, which is considered the trae game of
cricket, is like two games of single wicket playing at
one time, there being two wickets from which to bowl;
also two batters, but only one ball. This game is
played as above, with this difference, that the batter
runs only to the opposite end, exchanging places with
the other batter, who is of the same party. The
number of persons engaged is properly eleven on each
side. As in single wicket, the game is determined bv
the number of rans made in two innings by each
player; the party gaining the greater number of runs
being victor.

Such it an outline of the two kinds of the game; but
theire are many minute differences in playing in diffe-
rent i>arts of Ensland, which it would be tedious to
describe. It has oeen conceded by general consent to
follow, in case o' ' 'spute, the laws and regulations of
the 'MaiT-le-boL Cricket Club,' au association in
Ijondon which has taken a leading part in this traly
English sport. The following are the laws and regula-
tions of this club : —

Laws and Regulnttons of Single Wicket.

' I. When there shall be fewer than Ave phiyer* on a side,
iMundB sliaU be phu»d, at twenty -two yards eaoh, in a line from
the off and leg-stump.

S. Tlie ball must be hit before the bonnda to entitle the strilcer
tc a run ; which run cannot be obtained unless he touch the
bowling-stump or creaae in a line with it with his bat or some
lort of his person, or go lieyond them; returning to the popping-
creasc, as at double wicliet, according to the twenty-second law.

3. When the striker shall hit the ball, one of his feet must be
on the ground, and behind the popping-crease, otherwise the
urapire'shall call " No hit."

4. When there shall be less than five players on a side, neither
byes nor overtbrowg shall bo allowed ; nor shall the striker be
caught out behind wicket, nor stumped out.

5. The fleldsmen must return tlie ball, so that it shall cross the
play betwoes the wicket and the bowling-stump, or between the
bowling-stump and the bounds. The striker may run till the
ball be so returned.

6. After the striker has made one nm, lie must touch the bowl-
ing-stump and turn, before the ball shall oroas the phty, to
entitle him to another.

7. Tlie striker shall be entitled to three runs for lost ball, and
the same number for ball stopped with bat, witli reference to
the twenty-ninth and thirty -fourth law of double wicket.

8. When there shall be more than four players on a side, there
shall be no bounds. All hits, byes, and overthrows will then be
ollowetl.

9. The bowler is subject to the same laws as at double wicket.

10. Not more than one minute shall be allowed between each
ball.

Laws and Ilegulatlons of Double Wicket

I. The hall must not weigh less than five ounces and a-half,
nor more than Ave ounces and three-quarters. It must not mea-
sure less than nine inches, nor more than nine inches and one-
eighth, in circiunlbrcnce. At the beginning of each innings,
cither party may call for a new ball. (Uut in matohea, the same
ball must go through the game.)

3. The bat must nut exceed faur Inches and one-quarter in the
widest part ; it must not be more than thirty-eight inches in
length.

3. The stumps, three to each wicket, must be twenty-seren
inches out of the ground, the bails eight in length ; the stumps
of suffloient thickness to prevent tlie ball fWim passing through.

4. The bowling' crciiro must be in a line with the stumps, sis
feet eight inches in length ; the stumps in the centre, with a re-
turn oreiMe at each end towards the bowler, at rteht angles.

MS , --a I

t. Ihe popping-craase must be fonr feet ftmr inohes tnm the
-wlokat, ajia psrmllel to U i nnlimitsil in Isngth, but not shorter
than the bowling-crease.

0. The wickets must be pitched opposite to saoh other by the
umpires, at a distance of twenty-two yards.

7. It shall not be lawfkil for either iMtfty doiiag a match, with-
out the consent of the other, to alter the ground Iqr rolling,
watering, covering, mowing, or beating. This rule is not meant
to prevent the striker than beating the ground with his bat near
to the spot where he stands during the innings, nor to prevent
the bowler from filling up holes with saw-dust. Ice. when the
ground shall be wet.

8. After rain, the wickets may bo changed, with the consent
of both parties.

9. The bowler shall deliver the ball with one fbot behind the
bowling-crease, and shall bowl four balls before he change
wickets, which he shall be permitted to do onoe only ir the same
innings.

10. The ball must be bowled. If it be thrown or Jerked, or if
the hand be above the shoulder in the deliveiy, the umpire must
call " No ball." (This is not reckoned as one of the four balls.)

11. The bowler may require the striker at the wicket fh>m
which he is bowling to stand on that side of it which he may
direct.

12. If the bowler toss the ball over the striker's head, or bowl
it so wide that it shall be out of distance to be played at, the um-
pire (even though be attempt to hit) shall adjudge one run to the
parties receiving the innings, either with or without an jtppeal
fkom them, which shall be put down to the score of wide balls,
and such ball shall not be reckoned as any of the four balls.
When the umpire shall have called " Wide boll," one nm only
shall be reckoned, and the ball shall be oonsMered dead.

IS. If the bowler shaU deliver a " No ball," the striker may
play at it, and be allowed as many runs as he can get ; and ho
sbaJl not be put out except hy running out. In the event of no
run being obtained by any oUier means, then one run shall be
scored.

14. In the event of a change of bowling, no more than two
balls shall be allowed for the sake of practice.

15. If the bowler bowl one ball, he shall be obliged to bnwl
four. I

16. The striker is out if either of the bails he bowled ofT, or if
a stcmp be bowled out of the ground.

17. Or If the ball, ihim a stroke of the bat or hand below the
wrist, be held befr- ) it touch the ground, although it bo hugged
to the body of the catcher.

18. Or If in striking, or at any other time while the ball Is in
play, both his fiiet be over the {wpping-crease, and his wicket
put down, except his bat be grounded within It.

19. Or if in strikhig at the ball he hit down his wicket

50. Or if, under pretence of running or otherwise, either of tho
strikers prevent a boll from being caught, the striker of the ball
Is out

51. Or if the ball be struck, and he willUIly strike it again.
SS. Or if, in running, the wicket be struck down by a throw

or by the hand or arm (with ball in hand) br<frrehisbat(inhandl
or some part of his person be grounded ovir his popping-crease.
But il the bails be off, a stump must be stru ' tf theground.

53. Or if any part of the striker's dress kr p. the wicket
when striking.

54. Or if the striker touch or take up the iiile in ploy,
unless at the request of tho opposite puiy.

55. Or if with any part of his person he stop the ball, which in
the opinion of the umpire at the bowler's wicket shall have been
delivered in a straight linn to the stril^er's wieke^, and would
have hit it.

56. If the players have oro- jcd each other, he that runs tta the
wicket which is put down is out

57. A ball being caught, no run shall be reckoned.

58. If a " Lost ball" be called, the striker shall be allowed six
runs; but if more than six shall have been run before " Lost ball"
shall have been cal'od, then the striker shall have all which
shall have been run.

59. After the bili shall have been lodged and definitively settled
in the wicket-keeper's or bowler's hand, it shall be considered
dead. If, when thi> bowler Is about to deliver the hall, the striker
at his wicket shall go outside his popping-crease before such
actual delivery, the said bowler may put him out

30. If the striker be hurt, he may retire from his wicket, and
return to it at any time during that innings.

31. If a striker be hurt, some other person may stand out tor
him, but not go in.

SS. No substitute in the field shall be allowed to bowl, keep
wicket, stand at point, cover the point, or stop behind in any
case.

33. If any fieldsman stop the ball with his hat, the ball shall
be considered dead, and the opposite party shall odd five runs to
their score. If any be run, they shall have five in all.

34. The boll having been hit, the striker may guard his wicket
with bis bat, or with any part of his body, except his hand ; but
the twenty-fourth law, Inr which he is forbfalden to touch or take
up the ball, may not be disobeyed.

38. The wicket-keeper shall not take the hall for tho purpose
of stumping until it has passed tho wicket He shall stand at a
reasonable distance behind the wicket, and shall not move till
the ball be out of the bowler's hand ; he shall not by any noise
iuoonunode the striker; and if any port of his person be over or

OUT-OF-DOOR RECREATIONS.

IwfMre the wicket, altlumgh the ball bit it, tbc ■trUcer iball not
be out.

M. The umpire! iball not stand more than six yards fhim
the wicket ; they are sole Judges of foir and unfeir play, and all
disputes shall be determined by them, each at his own wicket ;
but in case of a catch which the umpire at the wicket bowled
from cannot see suBciently to decide upon, he may apply to the
other umpire, whose opinion shall bo conclusive.

37. The umpU«s in all matches shall pitch fhir wickets, and
the parties shall toss up for the choice of innings.

38. They shall allow two mtaiutes for the striker to come in,
and fifteen minutes between each innings. When the umpire
shall call • ' PUy ," the party refusing to play shall lose tlio match.

30. They are not to order a atrikor-out, unless appealed to by
the adversaries.

40. But if one of the bowler's foot be not entirely behind the
bowling-oreaae, within the return-crease, when ho shall deliver
the ball, the umpire at his wicket, unasked, must call " No ball."

41. If, in running, either of the strikers shall ba to ground his
bat (in hand) or some port of his person over the popping-creRae,
the umpire for every such likilure shall deduct two runs fkom the
number intended to have been run ; bemuse such strUccr not
having run home in the first instance, cannot have started in
the second fh>m the proper goal.

4S. No umpire shidl be allowed to bet.

43. No umpire Is to be changed during a match, unless with
the consent of both parties, except in case of a violation of the
forty-second law; then either party may dismiss the trans-
gressor.

44. After the delivery of four balls, the umpire shall call
" Over," but not until the ball shall be lodged and definitively
settled in the wicket-keeper's or bowler's hand ; the ball shall
then be considered dead. Nevertheless, if an idea be entertained
that either of the strikers is out, a question must be put pre-
viously to, but not after, the delivery of the next ball.

43. The umpire must take especial care to call " No ball" in-
stantly upon delivery ; " Wide ball " as soon as ever it shall pass
the striker.'

To theie laws and regulations it may be of use to
add the following diagram, representing the field during
a cricket match, with the proper position of the parties
playing, also the technical names of these parties : —

orr sioa.

:*
i'

♦

8
4

ON SIDE,
tt

Names of parties indicated by the figures:—* *, Strikers ; I,
Dowlcr ; i. Wicket-keeper ; 3, Long Stop ; 4, Short Slip ; 5, Long
Slip; 6, Point: 7, Cover; 8, Middle Wicket; 9, Long Field,
off side; 10, Long Field, on side; U, Leg; OO, Umpires; ft.
Scorers. This is the usual placing of the field-men, but bowlers
moke such alterations as they deem best to oppose the strikers.

BOWLS.

Games with bowls are of great antiquity, and have
existed in many different forms. That which has ulti-
mately become the proper English game of bowling is
performed with balls of fine hard woud on a smooth
shaven lawn called a bowling-green. There are two par-
ties, and each individual possesses a bowl. One of each
party plays alternately. The object is to deliver the
ball from the hand along the surface of the green, and
in such a manner as to place it close by an appointed
mark. The party which first gains the specified num-
ber of points, by being nearest the seal, is victor. The
goal or obiect played to is a small ball called the jack.
It is not fixed upon any particular spot, but is bowled
by one of the party to a certain distance.

A bowling-men requires to be remarkably level,
and kept closdy shaved by the scythe. The length of
space played in, called sometimes a rink, may be about
toirty yards. The balls are not altogether spherical;

they are spheroids, or flattish on two opposite sides.
They are usually made of lignum vila, and are some-
times handsomely mounted with silver plates on the
sides, bearing the names or arms of the owners. The
size varies from about four to six inches in diamMer.

A knowledge of the value of forces, which can be
gained onl^ by experience, is necessary in bowlins; but
a not less important requisite is a knowledge of the art
of giving a nias to the bowl. A person skilled in this
art will, bv a peculiar pressure of the fingers in deliver-
ing his ball, cause it to roll in a kind of semicircle, so
as to go with a sweep round the cluster of balls in front
of the jack, and come to its place of rest close by the
jack or goal.

The game is healthful and exhilarating, and played
in moderation, seems well adapted for the recreation of
sedentary persons. In many towns in England and
Scotland there are beautiful bowling-greens, the pro-
perty of the citizens at large, or maintained by private
clubs. In Glasgow there are several bowling clubs,
and the following are a few of the regulations laid down
for the game by a most respectable association in that
city — namely, the ' Wellcroft Bowling Club : ' —

Regulations for Bowls.

' The game to consist of nine points, unless otherwise agreed ;
and the throwing of the Jack and phiying first to be decided by
lot.

If the 'Jack is thrown into the ditch on any occasion after tho
first throw, the opposite party have tho privilege of throwing it
anew, and not afterwards moved if three feet clear of the ditch
in front of the players. This rule not to apply to the side ditch,
ttom which the Jock must bo sufficiently distant to allow both
fore and back-hand piny.

All players, when throwing their bowl, to have one foot on
the aftermost white ball marked on tho cloth; the position of
the cloth not to be changed during an end ; and if by accident
removed from its situation, to be placed us n{ar as possible to
the same spot.

A bowl touching tho Jack at any time during its course on tho
green, is what ia callad a " toucher," and counts the same as
any other bowl, though in tho ditch.

If the Jock, or bowl, after touching tho jock, is run into tho
ditch, the place where cither rests may bo markni, the Jack
placed at tho edge of the ditch, and both replaced when the end
is played out.

If the Jack is burned, or displaced otherwise than by tho efl^ect
of the play, the opposite party to have the option of playing out
tho end, or b^inning it anew.

When a bowl is burned, if belonging to tho party guilty, it
is to be put off the green ; if belonging to the opposite party, to
be replaced as near its original position as possible by the party
to whom it belongs. If the jack is burned by a non-player, the
end to be played over nguin.

If a bowl is accidentally marred by an opponent, It shall bu
in the option of the party playing to let it rest, or play it over
again ; if it is marred willingly by un opponent, it may bu placM
anywhere, at the pleanuro uf the player. If a bowl is marred in
either case by the player's party, the opponents to have the sumo
privilege.

If a lx>wl (without touching the Jack) rebounds tttfa tho ditch,
it shall be put olf the green ; and if it has disturbed cither Jack
or bowls, they shall be replaced us near as possible by the oppo-
nent's party.

After an end Is pluycd, neither Jack nor bowls to be touched
until the game Is counted and all parties satisfied. And no mea-
suring till the end is played.

No player to change his bowls during tho game ; the party
doing so loses the game.'

GOLF.

The game of golf is believed to be peculiar to Scot-
land, though most likely derived from Germany ; the
term golf being from the German word kolbe, or the
Dutch kolf, a club. The popular pronunciation of the
Scotch word is goff, or gmef. Strutt, in his * Sports
and Pastimes of the People of England,' observes that
' there are many games played with the ball, that re-
quire the assistance of a club or bat, and probably the
most ancient among them is the pastime now distin-
guished by the name of goff. In the northern part of
the kingdom goff is much practised. It answers to a
rustic pastime of the Romans, which they played with
a ball of leather stuffed with feathers, and the goff-ball
is composed of the same materials to this day. During
the reign of Edward III., the Latin name catnbuca was
applied to thia pastime, and it derived the denorai-

653

CHAHBEBM IKrOIUtAnOir fOB fBB PEOPLE.

natioiii no dottbt« from Uifl eTooked olub or bkt wilh
which it WM piftyod.'

It Momi to be quit* nnowtftin at wh*t period the
game of golf wae introdooed into Bootland; but it may
be fairly prMumed that thii amuwment, ae well as
fbotball and amhery, were praotiied to a considerable
extent in the reign of our King James I.

King Charles I. was much attached to the amuse-
ment of golfing, and on his risit to Scotland in 1641i
was enrnged in it on Leith Links when intimation was
giren him of the rebellion in Ireland; whereupon he
threw down his club, and returned in great agitation
to Holrrood House. The Duke of York, Afterwards
James 11., also delighted in the game.

Qolf is played upon a large piece of open ground,
corered with short herbage, out not necessarily level.
It is considered that skill is best shown by playins orer
a surface on which there are certain irregulilrities or
hamardt. The grounds on which the game is played
are called links — a term nearly equivalent to downs in
Eucland. The open downs of Blaokheatb, near Oreen-
witm, seem a fair specimen of the kind of ground suit-
able for the sport, and there we believe it is now
ilayed. Bruntsfield Links, a small common near Edin-
urgh, slope somewhat, and are irregular in form, but
they i^ord a fine opportunity of showing skill in play-
ing ' tap and down the green,' a greater force being re-
quired in strokes in impelling the ball in one direction
tnan in another. Undoubtedly the finest golfing ground
in the kingdom is the Links of St Andrews, extending
about three miles in leneth, and presenting all those
irresularitieg which add interest and zest to what
might otherwise be considered a tame and dull recrea-
tion. Perth, Musselbuigh, North Berwick, Leven, and
several other places in Scotland, are also in possession
of capital golflnff grounds.

Qolf is entitled to be called a 'respectable' game.
It is played almost exclusiveljr by gentlemen, and is
conducted leisurely, and without any appearance of
boisterousness. A Stranger would call it a spiritless
sport — little better than walking. It possesses, however,
the usual fascination of a game of skill and chance, and
might appropriately be compared to billiards — the table
being a green rf a mile in length, the billiard rods
clubs, the balb, instead of ivory, hard-stufifed leather,
and the purses holes in the ground.

Oolfs are formed of wood. The handle, which is
straight, is generally about four and a-half feet long,
and made of ash or hickory. To the lower part of this
stalk is united, by compact tying, a flattish-curved end,
which is the striking part; it is faced with horn, and to
Kive force, is loaded with lead. To give a hold to the
hands, the upper extremity of the stalk is wrapped
with a rind of cloth. In regular practice, players use
several golfs. Each has his set of three, four, five, or
even as many as ten, which is carried by an attendant
boy called a caddie; and from this set the golf appro-
priate for the stroke is selected. Sometimes the ball
lies fairly on the grass, at other times it may have got
into a hollow, or behind a stone or bush, and an instru-
ment best adapted for sending it forward, or lifting it
from its hazard or awkward situation, is in requisition.
One of the golfs is technically called the ipoon, from its
use in lifting the ball from hollows; another is called
the iron ; and so on.

The ball is small, being not more than aa inch and
a-half in diameter ; it is made of thick prepared hide,
stutTed almost as hard as a stone with ftathers; the
outside is smooth, and painted white. At Edinburgh,
St Andrews, and Musselourgh, the making of golfs and
balls is a regular profession.

There are genenklly two players, one matched against
the other. Eack hat his own ball. The game consists
in driving the ball into certain holes made in the ground,
which he who achieves in the fewest strokes obtains the
victory. When four persons play, two of them ate tome-
times partners, and have but one ball, which they
strike alternately. The holes are situated at the diffe-
rent ends and lidtt of the green, at irregular distances,

Uid thtilr nombet it optional. The ttiual number it
five. A plMrer mutt never touch hit ball, unlet! in
very particular ciroumttances, or when he takes it out
of one of the holei. When oommencinc from a hole,
the ball may be cocged up on the point of a dot of mud
or turf, to ulow era commanding itroke; and thit is
called teeing the ball; but on
all other occaiiont the ball
must be struck or impelled
by the golf from the place
in whick it happens to lie.
Much depends on the first
blow, and it should be given
with great firmness of per-
son and a good aim. Pro-
perlv performed, the first
stroke will send the ball two
hundred yards, while at other
times a blow in an awkward
situation will advance it only
a few feet. When the balls
at length get near a hole,
great skill is shown in putting
or giving those delicate strokes which will not make
the ball so bevond the hole, but, if possible, into it.
A knowledge of the value of forces, the nature of the
green, the influence of Wind or weather. Ate. it impor-
tant in thit and all other parte of the game, and ia
only to be gained by long experience.

At Edinburgh, Leith, Musselburgh, St Andrews
(which may be considered as the head-quarters of golf-
ing), Perth, and some other towns, there are associations
or clubs of golfers, whose proceedings are governed
by certain laws and regulations. The oldest in Edin-
burgh are the * tidinburgh Buivess ' and ' Brunts-
field Links ' Golfing Societies. The Bruntsfield Links
Society was instituted in 1761, and is limited to
forty members, the uniform of which is declared
* to be a red jacket with green velvet collar and
badge, bearing the arms of the society — namely, vert
two golf clubs in saltier, with heads in chief proper,
between four golf-balls argent : mutto in an escroll
below the shield, Inde Solus (Thence Health). The
affairs of the society are managed by a captaui, trea-
surer, secretary, and six councillors, elected annually.
A gold medal, played for annually on the last Satur-
day of March, is retained by the winner for one year.
A silver medal, played for annually on the last Satur-
day of September, is retained by the winner as his
property. The following are the regulations prescribed
by the society for playine the game ; and which may
be held as generally applicable : —

■ 1. No golfer, or caddie, to be allowed to dig t«e within ten
yards of the hole, and no bnll to be teed hearer the hole than two
club-lengtils, nor farther from it thnii four, unless by consent of
parties, and the ball to ho teed on the ground.

8. Two or more parties meeting at the hole, the party who
plays first id be allowed to play their second strokes before thu
succeeding party strikes off. But should the first parties' ball be
in a hazard, that party shiiU allow the second par^ to pass.

3. Every hole must be played out with the same ball that in
struck from the < sp.

4. All loose stickb, stones, filth, nuisance, or other movabla
impediments, may he removed, if within one clUb-length of the
ball; and in putting, all movable obstruetiohs may bo removed
within fiiiir olub-lengths of the hole— the distance to be measured
with the ilub which the party is to play with. In the event of a
ball getting into a hole, or any other hazard, the party shall bo
allowed to take it out, and standing immediately behind thu
baaud, drop it over his ihouldel', and play It, losing a stroke.

5. No hole It gained unless the boll be hOled (except by consent
of parties), and a party losing his ball loses the hole.

6. In case of doubt as to the ball belonging to either party,
neither bell shall be lifted unless by consent c« parties, and the
ball fikrtbest ttota the hole must be played first.

1. Ifa ballbestraek or moved Iqranyone hot of the party,
it shall be brought back and pk^ed from where it Was so struck
or moved, the party previously dropping it over hto shoulder.

8. In a match of more than two players, If a boll be iitruck
twice or oltetier, Successively by one pUyer, that side of the
match loses the hole.

9. If a party pUy the adversary's bell) the sdversary gains tho
hole.

OtJT^V'DOOR BBOfilSAtlONS.

10. If a iwrtjr perloiully, or by hii oaddie, itop or touch any
1»11 al the tnttton, the adversary gains the hole.

11. If a tMll itlck Ituit Into tho ground, it may bo loosened.

11 In playing for prizes, no competition to bu allowed unless
the parties be dressed in tlie uniform uf the society.

18. In putting, the ball, if practicable, shall bo played db«otIy
A>r the bole, but if the adversary's ball oppose the player, it shall
be Uwful to play upon it.'

EnthuiiMtio and long-eip«rienced cultiraton of golf
at Edinburgh hare b«en known to perform some re-
markable nati in their favourite iport. ' Beti of a
noTel nature, which let the ordinary routine of the
game entirel? aside, are occaaionallr undertaken by
the more athletic. An amusing and difficult feat, some-
times attempted from Bruntsfield Links, is that of
driTins the ball to the top of Arthur's Seat [a hill 800
feet high]. In this fatiguing Undertaking, being a
species of steeple -chase over hedges and ditches, the
parties are usually followed by bottle-holders and other
attendants, denoting the excessiTe exertion required.
In 1798, bets were taken in the Burgess Golfing So-
ciety that no two members could be ^und capable of
driving a ball over the spire of St Giles's steeple. The
latip Mr Sceales of Leith, and the present Mr Smellie,
printer, were selected to perform this formidable un-
dertaking. They were allowed to use six balls each.
The balls passed considerably higher than the weather-
cock, and Were found tiearlv opposite the Advocate's
Close. The bet was decided early in the morning, in
case of accident, the parties taking their station at the
south-east comer of the Parliament Square. The feat
is described as one of easy performance. The required
elevation was obtained by a barrel-stave suitably fixed:
and the height of the steeple, which Is one hundred
and sixty-one feet, together With the distance from the
base of the church, were found to be much less than
a good stroke of the clubs'*

SHINTT — HUBLINO.

Shinty in Scotland, Hockey in Eng^land, and Hurlinj;
in Irelttndj appear to be very much the same out-o^
door sport. We shall describe shinty; — Two parties
armed With sticks or clubs crooked at the lower ex-
tremity, and generally termed gowffs (golft), throw
down a little ball of wood, called a shinty, midway be-
tween two points, and the struggle is, which party will
drive the ball to their ' hail,' as it is called, or the
point allotted as their goal. It may be guessed by those
who have never seen it, that there is smart smashing
work at this game of shinty — most appropriately named
80, seeing that the shins of the players are exposed to
ticklish cracks from the cltibs of their opponents when
a lock takes place, and a dozen boys, perhaps, are
struggling to get the ball out fVom among each other's
feet. Hard though the ball be, and smart the strokes
given, the activity and quick eyes of the players usu-
ally prevent any great injury from being received at
shinty. By far the most serious mischief commonly
resulting from it consists in the damage which it brings
upon the neighbouring hawthorn hedges, which are
sadly cut to pieces in order to provide clubs for the
sport. The Worst of it is that young hawthorn slips,
with the root cut fbr the striking part, make by far the
best clubs, and accordingly the evil done is radically
ruinous to the unfbrtunate hedgerows.

Hurling is alluded to as follows by Mr and Mrs
Hall, in their work on Ireland : — ' The great game in
Kerry, and indeed throughout the South, is the game
of " Hurley" — a game rather rare, although not un-
known, in England. It is a fine manly exercise, with
enough of danger to produce excitement, afad is, in-
deed, /Mr eteeueitee, the game of the peasantry of Ire-
land. I'd be an expert hurler, a man must possess
athletic powers of no ordinary character ; he must
have a quick eye, a ready hand, and a strong arm ; he
must be a gbod runner, & skilfUI wrestler, and withal
patient as Well as resolutti. In some respects it re-
Mmbles cricket; but the rules and the form of the bats

* Biographical sketches of' Kay's Portraits,*

tm altogether diiferent ; the bat of the cricket«i^ being
straight, and that of the hurler crooked.

The forms of the same are these:— The plilyeM,
sometimes to the number of fifty or sixty, being chosen
for each side, they are arranged (usually barefoot) in
two opposing ranks, with their hurleyi crossed^ to await
the tossing up of the ball, the wickets or goals being
previously fixed at the extremities of the hurling-green,
which, from the nature Of the play, is required to b« a
level extensive plain. Then there are two picked men
chosen to keep the goal on each side, over whom the
oppoSine party places equally tried men as a counter-
poise; the duty of these goal-keepers being to ikrrest
the ball in case of its near approach to that station,
and return it back towards that of the opposite party,
while those placed oter them exert all their enersiei
to drive it through the wicket. All preliminaries being
adjustedi the leaders take their places in the centre.
A person is chosen to throw up the ball, which ii done
as straight as possible, when the whole party, with'
drawing their hurleys, stand with them elevated, to
receive and strike it in its descent : now comes the
crash of mimio war — hurleys rattle against hurleys —
the ball is struck and restruck, often for several mi-
nutes, without advancing much nearer to either goal ;
and when some one is lucky enough to get a dear
" puck" at it, it is sent ilyiug over the field. It is now
followed by the entire party at their utmost speed;
the men grapple, wrestle, and toss each other with
amazing agility, neither victor nor vanquished wait-
ing to take breath, but following the course of the
rolling and flying prize; the best runners watch each
other, and keep almost shoulder to shoulder through
the play, and the best wrestlers keep as close ob them
as possible, to arrest or impede their progress. The
ball must not be taken from the groUtid by the hand;
and the tact and skill shown in taking it on the point
of the hurley, and running with it half the length of
the field, and, when too closely pressed, striking it to-
wards the goal, is a matter of astonishment to those
who are but slightly acquainted with the play. At the
goal is the chief brunt of the battle. The goal-keepers
receive the prize, and are opposed by those set over
them : the struggle is tremendous — every power of
strength and skill is exerted ; while the parties from
opposite sides of the field run at full speed to support
their meh engaged in the conflict; then the tossing and
straining are at their height, t)ie men often lying in
dozens side by side on the grass, while the baU is re-
turned by some strong arm again, flying above their
heads, towards the other goal. Thus for hours has
the contention been carried on, and frequently the
darkness of night arrests the game without giving vic-
tory to either side. It is often attended with dangerous,
and sometimes with fatal results.

Matches are made sometimes between different town-
lands or parishes, sometimes by barony against bArony,
and not unfrequently couhty against county; when the
" crack men" from the most dbtant ports are selected,
and the interest excited ia proportionably great. About
half a century ago, there wOs a great match played in
the Phoenix Park, Dublin, between the Munater men
and the men of Leinster. It was got up by the theii
?ord-lieutenant and other sporting noblemen, and Was
attended by all the nobility and gentry belonging tb
t'le vice-regal court, and the beauty and fashion of
'yhe Irish capital and its vicinity. The victory was
contended for a long time with varied success ; and at
last it was decided in favour of the Munster men, by
one of that party rUtafaing with the ball on the point
of his hurley, and striking it through the open Win-
dows of the vice-regal carriage, and by that manoeuvre
baffling the vigilance of the Leinster goalsmen, and
driving it in triumph through the goal. This man is
still living ; his name is Mat. Healy, and he has been
many years a resident in London. Between twenty-
five and thirty years a^o, there were several good
matches played on Kennington Common, between the
men of St Giles's and those of the eastern parts of the

OHAMBSUra INrOBlCATION TOB THE PBOFUL

mtttopolii ; tha KflUr Uing cot up by th« then noto<
rious Lord Butymoi* »ud other noblemen who led the
■porting oirolia of the time.'

Fivn — RACERB — TKNNI8.

The iport of itriking » toft ball covered with leather
againit a wall, or throwing it upwardi and catching it
ii^th the hand, Moms to be of great antiquity, and in
progreH of time waa regulated into the character of
certain gamei. One of tnete, the raoet simple of the
whole, ii the itriking of a ball agaiuit a wall, rebound-
ing from which it falli with force on the ground, and
in the rise ii again struck in the same manner. The
sustaining of this action for a specified number of
times constitutes the game. In England it has been
customary to call a game of this kind fives, from the
ball being struck with the five lingers and palm of the
hand. In Scotland it has for ages been called cage or
catteA-ball. .Tames I., in his quaint production de-
scriptive of what should constitute the education and
recreations of a prince, refers to caitch-balL He re-
marks — 'The exercises I would have you to use, al-
though but moderately, not making a craft of them,
are running, leaping, wrestling, fencing, dancing, and
playing at the oaiteh or tenmse, archerie, palle-malle,
and such-like other fair and pleasant field-sports.'

Baakett is the same game as fives ; but instead of
striking the ball with the open hand, it is struck by a
racket, which is an implement held in the hand formed
of a frame and catgut. It is played against a high and
broad wall, even in surface, with a smooth stone or
earthen ground, from which the ball will rise evenly to
the hand. Two persons play the match, each striking
tha ball alternately, and each strikes it in such u way
as that his advenary may not be able to return it. But
the adversary is supple of limb and quick of eye; and
darting to the spot on which the ball is about to fall,
endeavours to strike it with his racket, and preserve it
from rolling on the ground. He who does not return
the ball, either loses a point (or, as it is termed, an
ace) or has his hand out — that is, forfeits the situation
in which he would be able to add to his score of the
game. Neither fives nor rackets are now played to the
extent that they formerly were. There are still, how-
ever, several courts laid out for these games in the
metropolis; and nowhere are they played so well as in
the courtyards of the Queen's Bench and Fleet prisons,
where many of the inmates endeavour to kill time by
this species of amusement.

Tennis is a game similar with ball ; it is played
with a racket; but instead of striking the ball against
a wall, it is struck over a central net, on each side of
which the players stand. The game, which was once
fashionable, we believe, is now scarcely ever practised.

TRAP-BALL.

This game, which is traceable as far back aa the
commencement of the fourteenth century, is played
chiefly by boys. A wooden object called a * trap,' re-
sembling a shoe in shape, with a spring slip or tongue
fastened in it by a joint, is laid oii the ground. The
ball is laid on one end of the spring; the other end is
struck with a bat, and the ball rising is to be smartly
struck. ' It is usual,' says Strutt, ' in the present
same of trap-ball, when properly played, to place two
boundaries at a given distance from the trap, between
which it is necessary for the ball to p.us when it is
struck by the batsman ; for if it falls withoutside of
either, he gives up his bat, and is out; he is also out if
he strikes the ball into the air and it is caught by one
of his adversaries before it grounds; and again, if the
ball, when returned by the opposing party, touches the
trap, or rests within one bat's length of it; on the con-
trary, if none of these things happen, every stroke tells
for one towards the striker's game.' In some country
parts of England tiap-ball is still a favourite sport.

FOOT-BALL.

Foot-ball is on old English sport, now little known

in some parts of the country, but keenly played in
others. It is played by means of a distended ox-
bladdei, tightly covered with dressed leather, and
sewed up in a strong and secure way, so as to retain
its full elasticity. This ball is thrown aloft in the air
betwixt two parties of players, equidistant from each
other; on one side and the other there is a fixed point
or line called, as in the preceding case, the hail or hail-
ing snot. The object, then, of each party is, by vigo-
rous kicks, to propel the ball to the hailing-place behind
their adversaries, on the attainment of which object
the game is won. This game is less hazardous than
shinty, and exercises fully both the strength and speed
of the players. It is amazing how dexterous even very
younc boys become by continual practice at foot-ball;
and skill in the application of a slight degree of force
avails much more at this sport than greater strength
unskilfully directed. The young men of the Scottish
Border yet practise this game annually in various
places; and few sights can be more exhilarating than
to behold a strong body of them so employed, when the
fleet foot of the shepherd vies for conquest with the
vigour of the ploughman, and health and enjoyment
beam unequivocally from every countenance.

4U0II8.

Contests in throwing or pitching heavy pieces of metal
were practised by the ancient Greeks at their great pe-
riodical assemblages for athletic exercises. The piece
of metal thrown was called the ductu, from its round
form. The main object in these contests was the culti-
vation of strength of arm, and victory was gained more
from the abilitv of throwing heavy weights to a distance
than from skill in attaining a particular mark. \

From these ancient practices, first pursued by the
Greeks, and then by the Romans, the game of quoits, or
coits, appears to have been derived. The quoit is a cir-
cular plate of iron perforated in the middle, or, more
properly, a flattish iron ring, concave on one side, and
convex on the other, the concave or hollow side being
undermost in throwing; and a notch being in the edge
for the finger to press upon in delivering the throw.
Quoits are of difl^erent sizes, to suit the different tastes
and powers of players. ' To play at this game,' says
Strutt, *' an iron pin called a "hob" is driven into the
ground within a few inches of the top : and at the dis-
tance of eighteen, twenty, or more yards (for the dis-
tance is optional), a second pin of iron is also made fast
in a similar manner; two or more
persons, as four, six, eight, or more,
at pleasure — who, divided into two
equal parties, ore to contend for the
victory — stand at one of the iron
marks, and throw an equal number
of quoits at the other [the quoit
being delivered from the hand by
an upward and forward pitch with
a steady aim at the pin, near which
it should sink with its sharp edge
in the turf] ; the nearest of them t

to the hob ore reckoned towards the game,
determination is discriminately made: for instance, if a
quoit belonging to A lies nearest to the hob, and a quoit
belonging to D the second, A con claim but one towards
the game, though all his other quoits lie nearer to the
mark than all the other quoits of fi; because one quoit
of B being the second nearest to the hob, cuts mil, as it
is called, all behind it; if no such quoit had interfered,
then A would have reckoned all his as one each. Hav-
ing cast all their quoits, the candidates walk to the
opposite end and determine the state of the play; then,
taking their stand there, throw their quoits back again,
and continue to do so alternately as long as the game
remains undecided.' The dress in quoiting should be
loose and easy, with no restraint from braces.

In some of the rural districts of England horsc-
ahoea used to be employed aa quoits; and in some parts
of Scotland the quoits consist of round flat stones,
games with which are called the ' peuny-stanea.'

But the

IN-DOOR AMUSEMENTS.

CHESS.

It hM been Juitly olnerred, that among all the in-door
•muMmentt invented by man for the employment of
the^ idle or the relief of the itudioui, cheii itandi pre-
eminent. It it the moit refined and ingenioui of all
garnet, and pottettei a charm which hat rendered it
a favourite of the greatett charaotert, whether klngt,
warrion, or philoiophert. At an aniuiement, it pot-
tettei an advantage at sreat at it it lingular; being
highly interetting in itielf, and played with leiture, it
requirei no inducement of gain, and in contequence it
rarely played for money. The glory of conquett it
allowed to form a tufficient attraction.

Chett it of unknown origin and antiquity. Some
writen have atcribcd itt invention to the Oreeki, tome
to the Hindoot, otbert to the Chinete, and a fourth datt
to the Pertiani. There can be little doubt that it ori-
ginated in the Eatt, and at a very remote period of hii-
tory; and it it certain that it hat been known in Hin-
doottan and adiacent regiout for at leait two thoutand
yean. From the Pertiant it wat introduced by the
Arabt or Moort into Spain ; thence it found itt way to
France ; and wat made known in England during the
reign of William the Conqueror, lince which period it
hat been conttantly played.

The name of the game, and alto the namet of the
piecet with which it it played, hare undergone many
mutationt in travelling from country to country; never-
theleit, in the pretent termt which we employ, the
lerablance o' the original Eaatem appellations may be
teen. In Hindoottan, it postettet the Sejiscrit name of
Chalwrai^ia, which importt the four memben of an
army — elenhanti, honet, chariott, and foot-soldiers;
the game oeing a scene of mimic warfare, in which
these elementi respectively act a peculiar part. The
Pertiani corrupted the Sanscrit word into ohatrang,
which the Arabiant softened into ahatranj; from that
appellation it passed into leacchi, iohect, and finally
chett. By the French it is called ichecs, and a chest-
board they term iohiquier.

According to the modem European arrangement, the
idea of elephanti, hortee, chariott, and foot-soldiers hat
been abandoned, and there have been tubstituted a
king, queen, bithopt, knights, castles or rooks, and
pawns, forming tiz dittinct classes of pieces. The term
biihop it only Englith, being a substitution for elephant.
The knight! represent the horte-ioldiert. The term
rook is from the Eastern word rokh, a hero, and repre-
sents an armed chariot or fortification ; the English give
the piece the form of a castle. The pawns are the foot-
toldiert, the name being from peon, an attendant.

The chett piecet mi^e in India or China for tale to
wealthy Europeant, are soraetimei made of solid ivory,
five or tiz inches high, and are ezceedingly beautiful,
no degree of labour beine ipared in the carving. The
kinc and queen are teated on elephants, under a canopy ;
the oithopi are camelt, with archers as their riders ;
the knighti areon horseback; the castles are elephants,
with cattlei on their backt filled with warriors; aiid the
pawns are toldien, one a tergeant, another a drummer,
another a fifer, and the rest are the ordinary fighting
men. In England the piecet are utually made of bone
or bozwood, with more or lett taste, and from a low to
a high price. The foUowiug it their common form : —

JWm,

JQii£fJUi Bishop.
No. 92.

Choit Men and Board.

There are two lett of piecet, of difiTcrent oolonn; the
one utually white, and tne other red. A let oontitti of
tizteen piecet, to that the entire number with which
the game it played it thirty-two piecet. A tet includes
one zing, one queen, two bishops, two knishti, two
rooks or castles, and eight pawns. Two parttei play,
each having a tet of a lUfferent colour.

The game ii played on a tquare board, divided into
lizty-four squares, chec^uered black and white, at re-
pretented in the prenedmg figure. The numbers which
are here thown on the tquares do not ezist on the
chess - board ; we have only marked them thui in
order to illustrate the subjoined ezplanationi of tha
method of playing the game.

In beginning to play the game, the first thing ii to
set the board. This is done by placing it before you,
with a white square in the right-hand comer. As the
players sit opposite each other r.t a table on which the
fraard is placed, each has a w .^ 'square on hit right.

Next place the men in thei. ajipointed places. Let
us suppose it is the white set of jien. On the white
comer square marked 64 place a ropk or castle, and
on the black comer, 57, place the other rook; on the
black tquare, 63, place a knight, and on the white
tquare, £8, place the other knight; on the white square,
62, place a bishop, and on the black tquare, £9, place
the other bishop; on the black square, 61, place the
king, and on the white square, 60, place the queen.
This completes the first row, in which the king and
queen stand supported on each side by their officers.
The second row, marked 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56,
is filled entirely with the eight pawns, which thus form
a front guard to the pieces behind.

The red or dark set of pieces are placed in precisely
the same order — a castle on 1 and 8, a knight on 2 and
7, a bishop on 3 and 6, the queen on 4, and the king
on 5. It It a rule of the game that the queen mutt
be placed at first on a tquare of her own colour — the
white queen on a white square, and the dark queen on
a dark square. The pieces and pawns on the side and
front of each king and queen take their names from
them; as king's bishop, king's knight; queen's bishop,
queen's knight; king's pawn, &c. .

When properly placed, four rows of squares are left
unoccupied in the middle of the board, and this space
forms the field or sround on which the early evolutiona
of the men take place.

657

OHAmmra nioBiunoir fob thi piopul

TteMMw.

It if a Imiing pMaliArity of «hMi tkftl MMsh elMi of
pieoM hM ite own pMuliu ralu* and itjrle of moving;
■om* oan mort one way and Mma another, a qritem
ywy dUDnvnt from that of tho ordinary moremanta on
a draught board.

A jMim moTM onljr on* Muara at a time, in a atraight
lino forward, and takei tho enomj diagonally. Un
being flnt moved, howoTor, a pawn haa tho power of
adranoing either ono equaro or two, at the player
thinlu fit, unleai the equare over which he leapt ii
commanded by a hoetilo pawn ; io that if he were to
not on that iquaro initoaa of leaping over it, ho might
bo captured. In iudi a oaao the adTone pawn hai tho
option of takine him, and placing himielf on tho iquare
loapod oTor. A pawn cannot moTO baokwardaj but on

RitURf to the Airthor tide of tho board, upon tho flnt
no of the enemy, which ia itylod goktg to qu»en, ho
may bo chaagod for any one of tho pieces loot in tho
couno of Uko game, and Uio piece choion muat bo placed
on tho iquare at which tho pawn haa arriTod. If not
oKohangod, ho romaiai idle. Tho power of taking dia-
gonally, poawMod bv a pawn, diffen flrom that of all
other piecoi, who take in the diieotlon in which they
moTe : after OTory capture ho continuei to go forward
aa before. Tho king'a biihop'i pawn ii reckoned the
moot Taluable.

A hUght morea obliquely, either backward or for-
ward, upon orory third iquare, including the iquare
on whion ho itood; from black to white, or white to
black, oTor tho headi of the men, which no other piece
ii permitted to do. For eiample, a knight may leap
flrom 30 to 19, 21, 36, 30, 43, 46, 51, or 53, paning over
piecM in the intermodiato iquarei. Thii property of
UMing rmdon the knight particularly uieAil at the
bi^nning of a game, ai he can be brought into the
enemy'i ranki. and retire, notwithstanding any block-
ade; and ihould he check a king, without being him-
ielf liable to bo taken, tho king must remove, and can-
not afterwards castle.

The biihop moves only diagonally over any number
of squares, as far as they are open, forward or back-
ward, but always on the colour he is first placed on.
He can take at any distance when the road is open.
For example, the biihop may move from 29 to 2, 8,
56, or 67. The king's bishop is usually considered the
better one, ai he can check the king on his original
square, which the queen'i biihop cannot.

The rooik movei backward, forward, or eidewiso,
and ai fiur ai the iquarei are open. He is viewed
as not very usefUl at the beginning of a game, but is
particularly so towards the conclusion, by possessing
the power of giving checkmate with the king alone,
which neither the bishop nor knight can do.

The qvun is tho best piece on the board. She
unites the powen of the oishop and rook, and her
moves are tnereforo unlimited, provided the iquarei
are open in her line of motion. Ai an example, ihe
may be moved from 37 to I, 5, 16, 23, 40, 58, 61, 64,
or any other number in the direction of these, lo that
the iquarei are not blocked up. The preiervation of
tho queen is alwayi a matter of great importance in
the game.

The kit^ moves only one square at a time, but in
any direction, either forward or backward, sidewayi or
diagonally. But once in a game, he can move two

Suarei to the right or left, iniich ii termed caitling.
e can take any of the enemy'i men in any iquare
adjoining to him, provided he does not place himself in
check. This cheek is a peculiarity in his condition. He
has the privilege of never being taken; but this can
scarcely be considered a benefit, linoe it only means
that he must not move into or continue in a situation
of danger. To be in auch a situation, and liable to be
captured if he were an ordinary piece, is called being
in eAenb. On the avoidance of this perilous situation
the whole game depends; for the instrnt the king is
checkmated, without the means of moving into a puce
658

of lafoty, tho gamo ia at an and. Tho adrananr hai
tho victory.*

To the forogoiag aooount of tho movoi and powari
of tho rtipootTvo piooos, may bo added tho fbllowing
explanation of tormi ; —

CcMtfjn^.— Thii, as above hinted at, ii allowed one*
in tho couno of a gamo : it coniiiti in moving the king
to tho Moond iquare to tho right or left of that whore
ho originally itood, and placing tho caitlo or rook on
tho iquare over which ho loapod. Caitling ii a meani
adopted to lecure the king ftom attack; but it ii not
allowablo— 1. When tho king or the rook with which
you would caitle hai already boon moved; 2. Whou
the king ii in check; 3. When tho kinc would renuire
to nan over a iquaro in which ho would be checked;
and 4. When the king hat a piece between himself
and the rook.

d^at.— When the king is in a situation that, were
he an inferior piece, he would be taken, notice is given
bv the adversary, by saying the word ' eA«oib,* and tho
player must adopt some moans of removing Mm from
this position.

Double eheek is when tho king is in check by two
piecet at once. He may emancipate liimiolf from
tingle or double check — 1. Dy capturing the piece
which it attacking him, either by himiolf or one of his
party— and this is only available in double check, if
one of the pieces does not guard tho other; 2. By inter-
poibg a piece between him and the attacking piece;
and 3. By removing to another iquaro, of which no
hottile piece hat the command.

Checkmate is when no means of escape or conquest
it available; the king it then taid to bo checkmated,
and the gamo terroinatei. One king cannot give ch^ck
to another, as it would place him in a similar situation.
The term checkmate is said to be a corruption of tho
Eastern words chah-mat (the king is dead).

Stak-mate (from itall, a place of fixture) is applied
to the condition of the king when he it compelled to
remain in his place, by being surrounded in such a
manner by his own or his adversary's pieces, that he
could not move without going into check, and has at
the same time no means of moving other pieces. Tho
game is then contideied drawn — that is, not won by
either party.

Laws of Ctaeai.

The gamo commences by the two parties determining
by lot, or concession, which shall have the first move.
After this the moves are taken alternately, one pieco
at a time. The principle of advance is to push forward
the men graduallv against those of the enemy, each
party calculating beforehand what will be the effect of
any particular move. The following are old-established
lawi in reference to playing : —

1. If you touch your man you must play It, except It would
expoee your king to check, in which case you can only move tho
king, if it be practicable.

i. As long OS you retain a hold of your man, you are at liberty
to place hhn wliuro you think proper, though you juay have him
act down on a Bquare.

8. If you have removed yoiw liand from a man, ho murt remain
where he li.

i. If you touch ono of your adversary 'n men, ho may Insist on
your taking it if you nan j and when you cannot, then you must
move your king, providnl the move do not put him in chock.

fl. If you make a fiilso move, by accident or otherwise, your
adversary can oblige you to move the king ; but if he plays with-
out having noticed the fttlse move, It cnnnot be rocnllcd.

6. If your adversary clinllenge you with a check, while in reality
the king is not in check, and you movo your king or any other

* In a battle between the French and English, in the year
1117, an English knight seizing the bridle of LouU le Ores, and
crying to his comrades, ' The king U taken ! ' the princo struck
him <n the ground with his sword, saying, ' Ne sfals tu pas qu'
aux Musm on no prend pas le roi ? '— (' Dcat thou not know that
at chess tho king is never taken ? ') Tho meaning of which is,
that at the game of chess, when tho king is reduced to that pass
that there is no way for hbn to eaeapo, tho game ends ; because
the royal piece is not to be exposed to an imaginoi^ affront.-^
PMUdor on Chest,

0HE88.

turn la 0MUM4MM0, you nujr r«tMot It Uyou dlicovw t. onor
batm h» lua nudo hU noat mnvo.

7. You am not to kIvo clu<ck to your tdvorMury'i kliiR, whon, by
doing M, you would exfote your own king to ohack.

8. If your udvenary |We ohuok, but without KlvlnR tho uiual
wamlnii at • oheok,' you ktu not obllond to notico It till ho dovi i
but If bo dUoOTor that he ■hould bavo dono ao on hU next muvo,
nnd thon warn you, each muit retract hU move, and the king bo
removed out of oheok or protected.

». After your king or look ha* morad, you cannot caatle.

10. In each firaah game the player* have tba ttrtt move alter-
nately i but If a player give tiie advantage of a pUxio— that U,
iiffrwi to itart witb one plooo lent than hU antagonlit— ho who
givci thu advantage baa the flnt move.

Uoyh)'* Rule* for Cboei.*

I. Move your pawni bvfuro ymir piwuii, nnd afterwardi bring
nut tho pluvca to lupport them ; t licrefuro tho klng'a, quoun'a, und
hUhop'B pnwni aboulil b« Uio Uml played, In ordur to opon the
game well,

1. Do not therotore pUy out any of your pleoea early In the
Kume, buoauM you thereby loao niovva, In caw your advenary
I'lin, by pUylog a pawn, make them rutiro, und hu ahw upuna hli
gnme at tho aame time ; oapocially nvuld playing your queen out,
till your Rome li tolurably well upvnixl.

S. Avoid giving uaelcH chocka, and never give any unloM to
gain lomo advantage, bocauae you nuiy loae tlie movo U tho
tidveraary can either take or drive your pieue away.

4. Never crowd your gamo by having too many piece* together,
ao oa to prevent your men advancing or retreating, aa ocooalon
may rwiuiro.

0. If your game ihould bo crowded, endeavour to fhxi it by
oxohange* of pieooa or pawna, un<l ciiatlu yuur king oa aoon ua
convenient ; ofterwarda bring out yuur piucva, uud attack thu
lulvoraary where wcokeat.

a. 'When the advcraary plnya out hia plccoa before bla pawna,
attack them aa aoon aa you oan with your pawna, by which you
may crowd hia gamo, and make liim luae movea.

7. Never attack tbo odvoraary'ji king witliuut a auffiolent force ;
and if he attack youra, and you cannot retaliate, ofTur cxchangua ;
and ahould be rothro when you prvncnt a piece to exchange, he
may loao a move. It may alao bo aomctlmca expedient to act In
thia manner. In caae of ether attacka.

8. Play your men In guard of oiio another, ao tliat if any be
token, the enemy may alao bo captured by that which guarded
youra, and endeavour to hiwo oa many gimrtla to your piece aa
your ndvcranry udvancca othcra upon ; and, if poHaiblc, let them
be of ieaa value than thoao he oaaaila with, When you cannot
well Bupport your piece, aoo if, by attacking one of his that ia
better, or oa good, you may not thereby nave yours.

9. Never attack but whun well prepared, fur thereby you opon
your advoraary'a gumo, and prepare him to pour in a strong
attack upon you, aa aoon aa your wealcr one la over.

la Never pUy till you have examined whether you are free
ftnm danger by your adveraary 'a lost movo ; nor offer to attack
till you have conaiderod wliat barm ho would be able to do you
by his next moves, in conaequenco of youra.

1 1, When your attack is in a proaperoua way, never bo diverted
from it by taking any piece, or other aoeming advantage your
adversary may purposely throw in your way, with the Intent
that, by your taking the bait, be might gain a movo which
would make your dcaign mlacarry,

15. When, in pursuing a wcU-laid attack, you find It necessary
to foroo your adversary's defbnco with tho loss of aome piecca.
If, upon counting as many movea forward aa you can, you find a
prospect of luccesa, aaorifloe a piece or two to gain your end :
theae bold attempta moke the fineat gamea.

13, Never let your queen stand ao before the Viiit; u! Hiat your
adveraary, by bringing forward a rook or a biabop, might check
your king if aho wore not there ; for you could hardly aave her,
or perhaps at best must sacrifice her for an inferior piece ; aa, for
example, place the white king ou 61, the queen on S3 ; the black
king on 4. and the rook on 16 ; which laat, if moved to 13, muat
bo taken by tho white queen, who, in return, would bo token by
the blaek king, bccauso tho white queen could not otberwlao bo
moved without putting the king on chock to tho black rook.

14. Let not your adversary's knight fork your king and queen,
or king and rook, or queen and rook, or your two rooks, at tho
same time ; for in the two first coses, tho king being forced to go
out of check, tho queen or tho rook must bo lost ; and in the two
last, a rook muat bo lost, ut beet, for a worse piece. Place the
white queen on 8, the rook on 7, and a black knight on 37. Tho
latter piece. If moved to fi, will fork both tho queen and rook,
)knd consequently one of them muat be lost for tho knight.

lis. Toko coro that no guarded pawn of your adversary's fork
two of your pieces ; knights and rooks arc imrticularly liable to
this mode of attack ; also guard against either a check by disco-
very or a stale-mato.

16. When tho kings have castled on different sides of tlio board,
attack with the pawn you have on that side where the advorsiiry
lias eoatled, advancing the pieces, eapedally the queen and rooks,
to aupport them ; and if the adversary's king have tlm.-o pawns
on a line in boat, he should not stir thorn till forced to it.

* Hoyle Is a very old author, and his works on chess and other
ganuHi are well known ; they are now fbund in all forms, abridged
or altered to suit modem playen.

17. Endeavour to have a more in Mnbusotd* i thftl to, pUoe

tho queen, bishop, nr ruuk behind a pawn or a pleoe in suinlt »
manner as that, upon playing that pawn or piece, you diaoov« »
check upon your adveraary'a king, and oonioquently way oAea
get a placo or aoms other ailvantago by It. Buppoae tha blMk
king on 6, a white blahop on 41, and a Dawn on M, by botIiic
tha pawn to W, a chock by the white blibop la diaouvsrad upon
tho black king.

IB. Never guard an Inferior pleoo or pawn with a batter if you
oan do It with a pawn, becauao that butter piece may In •u«h a
ease be, a* It were, out of play.

It, A pawn puahed un and well supported often ooeta the
adversary a piece ; but one acparatixl from the uthon la aeldom
of any value. And whenever you have gained a pawn or other
advantage, and are not in <htnger of losing tho move thereby,
make aa frequent exchange* aa you can.

HO, If each player havo three pawna upon tho board, and no
piece, und you havo a pawn on one side of the board, and the
other two on tho other aide, und your adveraary'a three are oppo-
alte to your two, march with yuur king to take hia pawns t ud
If ho move to aupport them, go on to queen with your alngto
pawn j and If ho attempt to hinder It, take hia pawna, and puidi
yours to queen i that la, to movo a pawn into tho adveraary^
back row. In order to make a queen,

HI. At the latter end of the game, each party having only
three or four pawna on different aldea of the board, the king* are
to endeavour to gain tho move. In unler to win the game i far
example, tho white king pliiced on M, and the black king OB
37, white would gain the wove by playing to SI, or black to H,
and In both coaes tho adverao king would bo prevented from
advancing.

22. When tho adversary boa no more than his king and one
pawn on the board, and yoi< a king only, you eon nover loee that
gome if you bring and keep your king uppoaite to your advor-
aary'a, when he Is immediately either before or on one aide of
bla pawn, and only one aquoro between tho kinga. Thhi muat,
then, bo a atale-mate or drawn game.

23. Nover cover a check with a piece that a pawn puahed upon
it may take, for foar of only getting that pawn for It ; put a blade
rook on 7, and a pawn un 40 ; the white king on 63, and a knigbl
on 61 : the white king being on a check to the ruuk, if the check
bo covered by moving tho white knight to 66, the bUck pawn
could then be moved to 4H, und tnku the knlKlit.

24. Do not crowd your adveraary'a king with your pieces, leat
you inadvertently give o atale-mute, which U a drawn game.

28. Uo not be too much afruld of losing a rook for an Infurlor
piece ; though a rook ia better than imy other except the queen,
yet it scldum cornea into pluy so us to operate' until the end of
the gome ; and it ia generally better to have a worae piece in play
than a auperlor out.

20. When you hove moved a piece which your adveraary drives
away with a pawn, that is a bad move, your enemy goinlog a
double advantage. At this nice game no move can be indlflbront.
Though the first move may not bo much between equally good
pUiycra, yut tho loss uf unc ur twu mure, after the first, mokes the
gamo almuat irretrievable ; but if you can recover the move or
tho attack (fur they both gu together), you ore in a fair way of
winning.

27, If over your gamo be auch that yon havo aearoe anything
to pluy, you have either brought out your pleco wrong, or, what
la wursc, not at all ; for if you havo brought them out right, you
must have variety enough.

28. 1)o not bo much afraid of doubling a pawn ; two In a dfrect
lino are not diaadvantagooua when aurrounded by thivo or four
othcra; three together are atrong (na three white pawna ai> 28,
SS, and 37) ; but four (oa 44 in addition) that nwke a aquare with
tho help of other piecca, well managed, form on Invinolblo
strength, and probably may produce you o queen ; on the con-
trary, two pawns, with an interval between (as on 3S and 87), are
no hotter than one ; and if you should hove three overeaoh other
in a lino (as 26, 34, and 42), your game cannot be in a worse
situation,

29. When a pleco la so attacked that It is diflicult to save it,
give it up, and endeavour to annoy your enemy in another place ;
for it often hoppena, that whilst your adversary is pursuing a
piece, you cither get a pawn or two, or such a situation as ends
in his dcatruction.

30. Suppoaing your queen and another piece are ottockcd at the
same time, and by removhig your queen yon must loao the piece,
if you can get two pieces in exchange for her, rather do that than
retire, for tho difference is more than tho worth of a queen ; be-
sides, you piceerve your aituation, which ia often better than a
piece ; when the attack and defence ore thoroughly formed, if he
who plays first be obliged to retire by tho person who defends,
that generally ends in the loss of tho gamo on tho side of him
who attacks.

31. Do not obn at exchanges without reason ; a good player will
take advantage of it to spoil your situation and mend his own ;
but when you aro atrongeat, espccUiUy by a piece, and have not
nn immediate check-mate in view, thon every time you exchange
your advantage increaaes. Again, when you have played a piece,
and your adveraary opposes one to you, exchange directly, for he
wants to remove you : prevent him, and do not lose the move.

32. Every now and then ezamino your gamo, and then take
your moasiures accordingly.

33. At the latter end of the game, eapedally when both queens
are off the boud, the kings areoapital ]^e«M} do not lot your

6(8

OBAMBBlUra OnrOBMAnOH FOB TBI PIOPLE

lilB|baM«i lllib]rhtaiiMMU|Bii«miyyoumiiit(rtthBmafT*
•nit Iho viotonr.

M. Aa th« qiMon, rwkii, anit btuhopi npont* »t • dteUno*, it
U not kiwayi lUHiMnary In ynur utttwk tu liavv thorn nvnr your
•drarMry'a Mine i they do bottur at • liUtsncu, •■ thi'y uwtnot tw
driven kway.

U. Whan there U ■ piece you ran take, anit that rannnteaeape,
do not hurry I aee whem yuii van niuku a K'xxl I'lovg uliowbure,
Bad takii thu pivtii ut Ulimru.

M. It la not alwujx tight t» taku ynur ndvrraary'a pawn with
your klnKi (br very uftvn It liit|i|it'na to be n anfvgiianl and pro-
tvvtlon to him. I'Lkw a black riKik un S, with a pawn on 4>, and
the white klnx on M, and he will be ahvllerud by tha black pawn
from the attack uf thu ruok.

Uccommondatlona a* to lome of the ForcKolnR Rulea.

I. Whether you piny the open or cIimx Rnmc, brUiK out nil yonr
Jitocee Into play beftirti you iMvIn Iho attack t |l>r If you do not,
and your ailvcninry ahould, yciu will ulwaya attack or bo attacked
at a Krcat dlaailvunl^mi ; thla la mi caiivntiul, that yciii liml bett«'r
forefpi an ailviint4iK>' than drvlatu front It ; niiil no iN'mmi tiin ever
play well who dove not atrictly pructlao tlila. In order to brinfl
out your pluc«>a pmiwrly, piinh on your puwna flrnt, ami aupport
tbimi Willi your pliHi'a, by which your Kamo will not bo crowded,
and all your plvcea will lie nt liberty to play and axalat each
other, and an co-oiwrntc towimla nttalnlnK y<iur cn<l ; and cither
In yuur attack or dvfenoe, bring them out ao ai not to bo driven
back afaln.

1. ^Vhen you havo brought out all your plecoa, which yon will
haw done well If you havo your choice on which alik) to caatle,
then conaldur thorouKhly your own and ndveraary'a Kanio, and
not only reaolvu where to eiiatle, but llkewlae to attack where you
appear atronKoat and your enemy weakeat. Ity tliU it la poaalble
you will bo able to break throuKh your adventnry'a '{ante, In
Which B<imo plecoa niuat bo exchanKud. Now pauae again, and
Burvey both Kamoa nttontlvcly, and do not let your Impotuoalty
hurry you on too fiir ; at lliia critical Juneturu (ea|ieeially If you
■tUI ttnd your udveraary very atronK) riilly your meii, and put
them In good order for a accond or third attai^k, ntlll keeping
them cloae and connected, ao aa to bo of uao to aach other. For
want of thia mctlioil, and a little roolnoaa, an almoat aure victory
ii often onatohvd out of a pUycr'a handa, and a total ovcrtlirow
cnauco.

S. At the laat period of the gnmo, nbaerve whore your pawn* aro
atrongeit, boat connected, and ncareit to quevn; llkewlae mind
how your udvcmry'a pawna ore diapoacd, and compare thcao
thing* together ; and If you can get to queen bofbro him, proccwl
without healtatlun ; if nut, hurry on with your king to prevent
him. I apoak now aa auppoalng all thu higher pieces are gone ;
if not, tboy are to attcnl your pawni, and llkowiao to prevent
your odrenary ftom going to quoun.— i!J« Uot/k, Jones, Sfc.

To theie rules and recommendationi we add the fol-
lowing adrice :— Conduct your game with coolneu, take
time to coniider the chancea for and againit in moving,
and do not give up the contest till all nope is gone of a
retrieval. An anecdote has been told of two gentlemen
playing at ehesa, one of whom found his game so hope-
less that he declared himself beat ; when an onlooker
of more skill said he would undertake to win the game
for him by three moves, without the possibility of being
counteracted. The offer was accepted, and the game
at once retrieved and won. As this is a particularly
instructive incident, we shall state the positions of the
pieces on the board in reference to the numbers of the
squares on the diagram : —

The black rook was at 9, the black knight at IB,
the black bishop at 20, the black king at '22, the black
rook at 40, black pawns at 25, 26, 30, 35, and 3(>,
and the black queen at 42, The white kin^ was at 7,
the white ruoki at 61 and 63; the white knight at 47,
and a white pawn at 30, The white lias the move. The
white knight at 47 gives check at 32; the black rook
at 40 takes it. The white rook at 63 gives check at 23;
the black king takes it. The white rook at 61 gives
checkmate at 21. Thus the white, by a few dexterous
moves, completely paralyses the adversary, and wins
the game.

By writing an account of moves, it is possible for
adversaries to carry on games at chess though at a
great distance from each other. Thus chess clubs in
London are known to carry on matches with clubs in
Edinburgh or Paris, or even with a club in India.
Games of this kind sometimes last for years.

The Morals of Choas, by Dr Franklin.
The game of chess is not merely an idle amusement;
•ereral very valuable (qualities of the mind, useful in
the course of human lite, are to be acquired or strength-
660

ened by II, so h to beeoiM habili, iMdv on all ««eft«
sions; for life is » kind of chess, in which we have
often points to gain, and oompetltors or adversaries to
contend with, and in which tliere Ij a vast variety of
good and 111 events that are in some degree the sflects
of prudence or the waul of it.
By playing at chess, then, wo may learn—

1. Foruk^t, which looks a little into futurity, and
considers the oonsequenoes thai may attend an action ;
for it is continually occurring to the player, ' If I move
this piece, what will be the advantage or disadvantage
of my new situation { What use can my adversary
make of it to annoy me 1 What other moves can I
make to support it, and to defend myself from his
attacks!'

2. Cireumiptction, which surveys the whole chess<
board, or scene of action; the relation of the several
pieces, and their situations; the dangers they are re-
si)ectively and repeatedly exposed to; the several pos-
sibilities of their aiding each other; the probabilities
that the adversary may make this or that move, and
attack this or the other piece ; and what different
means can bo used to avoid bis stroke, or turn its con-
sequences against him.

3. Caution, not to make our moves too hastily.
This habit is best acquired by observing strictly the
laws of the game, such as, ' If you touch a piece, you
must move it somewhere ; " if you set it down, you must
let it stand.' And it is therefore best that these rules
should be observed, as the game thereby becomes more
the intake of human life, and particularly of war; in
which, it you have incautiously put yourself into a bad
and dangerous position, you cannot obtain your enemy's
leave to withdraw your troops, and place them ni^re
securely, but you must abide all the consequences of
your rashiieu.

And lastly, we learn by chess the habit of not being
ditcouragtd by prettnt bad appearanctt in the etale of
our affain, the habit of hoping /or a favourable change,
and that of pernvering in the learch o/retoureet. The
game is so full of events, there is such a variety of
turns in it, the fortune of it is so liable to sudden vicis-
situdes, and one so frequently, after long contemplation,
discovers the means of extricating one's self from a
supposed insurmountable difficulty, that we are encou-
raged to continue the contest to the last, in hopes of
victory from our own skill, or at least of giving a stale-
mate, by the negligence of our adversary; and who-
ever considers — what in chess ho often sees instances
of— that success is apt to produce presumption and its
consequent inattention, by which more is afterwards
lost than was gained by the preceding advantage, while
misfortunes produce more care and attention, by which
the loss may be recovered, will learn not to be too
much discouraged by any present success of his adver-
sary, nor to despair of final good fortune upon every
little check he receives in the pursuit of it.

That we may, therefore, be induced more frequently
to choose this beneficial aniusenient in preference to
others which are not attende<l with the same advan-
tages, every circumstance which may increase the
pleasure of it should be regarded ; and every action or
word that is unfair, disrespectful, or that in any way
may give uneasiness, should be avoided, as contrary to
the immediate intention of all parties, which is to pans
the time agreeably.

Therefore, 1, If it is agreed to play according to the
strict rules, then those rules are to be exactly ooserved
b^ both parties, and should not be insisted on for one
side while deviated from by the other ; for this is not
equitable.

2. If it is agreed not to observe tho rules exactly,
but one party demands Indulgenoes, he should then be
as willing to allow them to the other.

3. No false move should over bo made to extricate
yourself out of a difficulty or to gain an advantage ;
for there can be no pleasure in playing with a person
onco detected in such unfair practices.

4. If your adversary is long in playing, you ought

DRAUGHTS.

not to huny him, or »pnu u\y uniailntH at hli <1«-
Uy. You tnould not ting, nor whiitU, nor look at your
wslcb, nor takt u|> m book lo read, nor make • tapiiiiig
with your feel on th« floor, or with vour &nntt$ upon th«
tablo, nor do anything that way diitroct hi* attonlioii ;
f - all tbew thiun dItpUaM, and tboy do not ibow your
iklU in playing, but your oraflinoH or your rudeiicM.

A, You ought not to ondearour to aiuuM and dvctiivo
your adv«rMry,by prttondlng to hara nia<ie bad luovei,
anil Mving that you havo now loit th« game, in order to
make him Muuro and caraleu, ami inattentive to your
Kheniet. Thii ii fraud and d«ceit, not ikiU in the game.
«. You must not, when you have gained a victory,
UM any triumphing or iniulting exprauion, nor ihow
too much of the pleaaure vou feel ; but endeavour tu
coniole your ailvertary, and make him leai diiiatiifi<<l
with himielf, by every kind and civil oxpreiiion tliut
may be uied with truth, luch as, ' You understand
the game better than I, but you were a littU inatten-
tive;' or,' You had the beat of tlie game, but lome-
thing happened to divert your thoughts, and that turned
it in my lavour.*

7. If you are a iMotator while othen play, obierre
thp molt perfect tilence ; for if you give advico you
otfend both partiee — him againit whom you give it,
because it may cause the loss of his game; him in whose
favour you give it, because, though it be good, and he
follows it, he loses the pleasure lie naght have had if
you had permitted him to think until that had occurred
to himself. Even after a move or moves, you must
not, by replacing the pieces, show how they might have
boen placed better ; for that displeases, and may occa-
sion disputes or doubtH about their true situation. All
talking to the players lessens or diverts their attention,
and is therefore unplciwing. Nor should you give the
least hint to either party by any kind of noise or mo-
tion ; if you do, you are unworthy to be a spectator.
Should you have a mind to exercise or show your judg-
ment, do it in playing your own game, when' you have
an opportunity, not in criticising, or meddling with, or
counselling the play of others.

Lastly, if the game is not to b« played rigorously
according to the rules as afore-mentioned, then mode-
rate your desire of victory over your adversary, and
be pleased with one over yourself. Snatch not eagerly
at every advantage offered by his unskilfulness or in-
attention ; but point out to him kindly that by such
a move he places or loaves a piece exposed and un-
supported ; that by another he will put his kiu^ in a
dangerous situation, &c. By this generous civility (so
opposite to the unfairness before forbidden) you may,
indeed, happen to lose the game to your opponent, but
you will win what is better, his esteem, his respect,
and his affection, together with the silent approbation
and good-will of impartial spectators.

when a vanquished player is guilty of an untruth
to cover his disgrace, as, ' I have not played so long ' —
* his method of opening the game confused me' — ^'the
men were of an unusual size,' &c. all such apologies
must lower him in a wise person's eyes, both as a man
and OS a chess-player ; and who will not suspect that
he who endeavours to shelter himself under such un-
truths in trifling matters, is no very sturdy moralist
in affairs of greater consequence, where his fume and
honour are at stake t A man of proper pride would
scorn to account for being beaten by one of these ex-
cuses, even were it true ; because they all at the mo-
ment have the appearance of being untrue.

To this may bo added a few ' cautions' of a difTerent
but equally important nature from a recent number of
the ' Quarterly Review : ' —

' Chess not unfll the business of the day is fairly done,
and you feel that you have earned your amusement.

Chess not in mixed society, when it is likely that
your antagonist and yourself will b« missed from the
circle by either hostess or company.

Chess not with persons much older than yourself,
when you feel sure that you can beat them, but not
f un tut thej will nlish it.

Chsst not with yonr wife, nnUsi yoa ean girt het
odds, and then tako care rather to ovemiateh jrourself.

I'Ihv not into the " small hours," last the duties of th«
next day should suffer fVom scmity rest or lata rising.

Do not commend your adversary's play whan you
have won, or abuse your own when you iiavo lost. You
are asiumittg in thd first case, and dttracling In the last.

Lcullf, Idolise not chess. Tu heu some peopla talk,
one might think there was " nothing else remarkable
bcnoath tho visitini: ii'ion." Chess is not a standard
for measuring the abilities of your acquaintance —nor
an e]iitome of all the sciences — nor a panacea for all
human ills — nor a subject for daily toil and nightly
meditation. It is simpiv a recreation, and only tu be
used and regarded as such. The less selAsh vou are In
its pursuit — the clearer head — the more patience— the
better temper you bring to the practice ot it, the batter
will you illustrate the merits of chess as the most in-
tellectual of games, and establish your own character
as a philosopher even in sport.'

DUAUOIITS.

Draught! is a game with a chequered board and men,
of much less antiquity than chess, and is perhaps to be
considered a degenerate descendant of that noble sport.
In France it is called Ita damei, from having been a
favourite game wita ladicH ; and in Scotland this sig-
nifjciition is preserved in the term dam-brod, the name
universally applied by the common people to the
draught-board.

Draughts is played on a chess-board, or a board
chequered preciselv in the same manner, with thirty-
two white, and thirty-two black squares. 1; Inwrd,
however, is placed before the players differently ; In
cheis there must be a white square in the right-hand
corner, but in draughts the right-hand comer must be
black (that is, supposing you to play on the white
squares). The following is a representation of a
draught-board, numbered for the sake of illustration,
and placed as it should be in playing: —

D
D

■

■■■

Draught-Board.

The game is played by two persons, who sit opposite
to each other. Each party has a set of twelve men, the
colour of the two being different for the sake of distinc-
tion. The men are generally round and flat pieces of
wood; one set white, and another black; those of the
neatest kind are turned out of boxwood and ebonv.

The men may be placed either on the white or black
squares, but the whole must be put on one colour only.
It is customary in England to place all upon the white,
and to hav«, as above, a black square on the right. In
Scotland the black are played upon, when there is con-
sequently a white square to the right. We go upon the
supposition that the play is on the white squares, and
have numbered them in the above figure accordingly.

The movements in draughts are very simple : a man
can move only one aquare at a time, and diagonallv,

(j61

CHAMBKHff8 IKFOB1tAl!tOir FOR THB PSOMiS.

nerer lln^ght formrd or sidewayi. If an enemy's man
stand in the way, no more can take place, unless there
be a Tacant square beyond into which the niece can be
lifted. In this case the man leaped over is taken; he
is remoTed from the board.

The grand object of the game, then, is to clear the
board of the enemy's men, or to hem them in so that
they cannot move; and whichever party does so first
gains the victoiy. As no piece can move more than one
step diagonally at a time, there can be no taking till
the two antagonists come to close quarters; and the

gushing tk:!ni cautiously into each other's neighbour-
ood is the principal art in the game.

When the men on either side have cleared their way
by taking, or found an open path to the opposite side
of the board, they become invested with a new power
of movement: by reaching the first row of squares on
the opposite side, the piece is entitled to be crowned,
which is done by placing a man on the top of it. Thus
crowned, the man may move backwards, but always
diagonally, and one square at a time, as before. This
power of moving and taking either forwards or back-
wards, renders it of consequence to ^of. men crowned;
and if two or three on each side gaiu this honour, the
game becomes more interesting, and may speedily be
determined.

Immediately after crowning, great art is shown in
blocking up one or more of your adversary's men, by
the aid of which to accomplish a series of decisive
moves. For instance, supposing you have detained
your adversary's piece at 4, while he has others situated
on 25 and 26 — and supposing you have pieces on 1'2
and l.Q, with a crowned man at 14, you may, by giving
him your 12 and 19, exchange two pieces for three,
which is commonly equivalent to winning the game.
Again, suppoiiing you have pieces on 1 3, 22, 30, and a
crowned one on 26, and your adversary a piece on 5,
with others scattered in the direction of 16, 8, 7, you
may, by successively pushing before him your pieces on
13 and 22, gain a formidable exchange.

In beginning to play, much depends on having the
first move; and the rule is, that in playing several
games each party takes the first move alternately.

If a player touch one of his men, he must play it. If
a player omit to take a man when it is in his power to
do so, his adversary can huff or blow him — that is,
either take the man, or insist upon his own man being
taken. The practice is at once to lift the man which
ought to have taken youn.

We present the following m an example of playing
a game, in which white loses. The letters N, C, F, T,
'at the head of the cojumns, signify iVumber, Colour,
From, To: —

l.'i

2fi

.32

1(1

.33

.34

111

.30

.39

Iff

2.1

11!

2«

1«

X7
I, ._

&c.

kiaes.

662

It is not considered fn^ for auy bystander to adviM
what motions should be taken, or for a player to wait
longer than five minutes between each move. The
draught player, therefore, must on aU occasions act
with much more promptitude and deci&ion than in the
case of chess. In short, draughts is a very ticklish
game. A single false step may lead to irretrievable
ruin ; and it is only after lon^ experience in figuring in
the mind what would be the result of particular move-
ments that proficiency is attained.

BACKQAMHON.

Backgammon is the modem name of a gama of con*
siderable antiquity in England, where it was formerly
known by the appellation of * the tables.' The words
back-gammon have been ascribed to the Welsh tongue,
in which they are said to signify little battle; but
Strutt, with greater plausibility, traces the term to the
Saxon ' bac and gamen — that is, back-same; so denomi-
nated because the performance consists in the two
players bringing their men back from their antagonist's
tables into their own; or because the pieces are some-
times taken up and obliged to go back — that is, re-
enter at the table they came from.' Whatever be
the etymology cf the term, the game has been long
es' :>blished in the country; and, as a fireside amuse-
ment of a decorous and exciting nature, is a favourite
among clergymen, squires, farmers, and retired pro-
fessional persons.

Backgammon is played with an apparatus consisting
of a board or tables, men or pieces, dice, and dice-
boxes. The introduction of dice into the game, a)id
their constant use in determining moves, makes back-
gammon essentially a game of chance, and therefore
brings two players of unequal talents nearer a level
than other diversions in which skill is the sole or pre-
dominant element.

The backgammon board consists of two parts or
tables, generally united by a hinge in the middle, by
which thev can be shnt up as a box. Each table pos-
sesses twelve points, six at each end. These points are
coloured white and black alternately; but this varia-
tion of colour has no reference to the game, and is only
done to make the points more easily counted.

The game is played by two parties, and with 30
pieces or men; each party has 15 men, one set of 15
being black, and the other white. In beginning the
game, the men are placed on certain points on the
tables, as shown in the following figure.

The game is played with two dice and two dice-boxes.
The dice are common to both; but each party uses his
own dice-box, and the throws are alternate.

Each die is a i>erfect cube, marked un its sides with
dots from 1 to 6. The 1 is called ace, the two deuee, tho
three tre or troi», the four quatre, the five otnyue, and
the six size. At every throw the two dice are employed;
consequently a person may throw from two up to twelve
— that is, two aces up to two lizeB.

If a player throw doublets, or both dice cf one num-
ber, double the number of dots is reckoned; thus by a
throw of two aces the player does not count two, but
four.

These numbers thrown or accidentally turned up by
the dice, bear a reference to the points on the tables.
In order to understand this connection between the
dice and the men, the learner must observe how the
men are placed on the points, and the rules by which
their shifting from one to another is governed.

The tables are here spread out as if two partners
were seated, and about to begin to play. The party
owning the white men is seate.! at W, and the party
owning the black men at B. We shall call one party
White, and another Black. White counts round from
the ace point of Black, and Black counts round from
the ace point of White. These ace points are respec-
tively seen to have two men upon them in opposite
comers of the same table.

The grwd object of the game i« for etch puty to get

fiACKOAMHOK^BILLURDS.

all hii men played round into the table containing the
Bcei, remoTing them from point to point agreeable to
the thiowi of the dice.

The Backgammon Table.

In throwing, the number upon each die turned up
may be reckoned by itself, or collectively, with the
number on the other die. Thus if quatre be thrown
by one die, and size by the other, a man can be advanced
four points, and another six points; or one man can be
advanced ten points, always providing that a point is
open to suit this movement to it. No point can bo
moved to if covered by two men belonging to the ad-
versary. If covered by only one man, which is called
a hlol, then that man can be hit, and be removed from
the point, and placed on the bar between the tables,
his place being taken by the man who has won it.

The removal of a man to the bars throws a player
considerably behind in the game, because the man must
remain out of the play till the dice turn up a number
corresponding to one open point on the adversaiy's
table. Being fortunate to get an open point by this
means, the man must be entered and wrought round
from thence, as in the case of others in the set to which
he belongs. The frequent occurrence of this hitting
of a blot gives an adversary a great advantage, and
allows him to win the gammon.

There are two kinds of victory — winning the hit, and
winning the gammon. The party who hac played all
his men round into his own table, and by fortunate
throws of the dice has borne or played the men off the
point first, wins the hit.

The gammon may be explained as follows : — ^When
you have got all your men round to your own table,
covering every pomt, and your adversary has a man
out, then you are enabled to bear or lift your men
away. If you can bear all away, so att to clear your
table before the adversary gets his man placed by a
throw on your table, you win the gammon. If the ad-
versary has been able to bear one before you have borne
all your men, it reduces the victory to a hit.

Two hits are reckoned equal to one gammon in play-
ing matches. To win two games out of three is called
winning the rub, as at whist.

Uoylc'B Directions for Bearing Muu.
If a player has taken up two of the adversary's men,
fcnd happens to have two, three, or more points made
in his own tables, he should spread his men, that he
either may take a new point in his tables, or be ready
to hit the man which the adversary may happen to
enter. If h<9 finds, upon the adversary's entering, that
the game is upon a par, or that the advantage is on
his own side, he should take the adversary's man up
whenever he can, it being 25 to 11 that he is not hit :
except when he ia playing for a single hit only; then,

if playing the throw otherwiae girei him a better chance
for it, he ought to do it.

It being 6 to 1 against his being hit with double dice,
he should never be deterred from taking up any one
man of the adversary's.

If he has taken up one of the adversaiy'i men, and
should happen to have five points in his own tables,
and forced to leave a blot out of his tables, he should
endeavour to leave it upon doublets preferable to any
other chance, because in that case the odds are 35 to 1
that he is not hit; whereas it is only 17 to 1 that he is
hit upon any other chance.

When the adversary is very forward, a player should
never move a man from his own quatre, trois, or deuce
points, thinking to boar that man from the point where
he put it, as nothing but high doublets can give him
any chance for the nit. Instead of playing an ace or
a deuce from any of those points, he should play them
from his own size or highest points; so that throwing
two fives or two fours, his size and cinque points being
eased, would be a considerable advantage to him ;
whereas, had they been loaded, he must have been
obliged to play otherwise.

It is the interest of the adversary to take up the
player as soon as he enters. The blot should be left '
upon the adversary's lowest point — that is to say, upon
his deuce point rather than upon his trois point; or upon
his trois point rather than upon his quatre point; or
upon his quatre point preferable to his cinque point —
for a reason beforii-mentioned : all the men the adver-
sary plays upon his trois or his deuce points are deemed
lost, being greatly out of play; so that those men not
having it in their power to make his cinque point, and
his game being crowded in one place, and open in another,
the adversary must be greatly annoyed by the player.

If the player has two of the adversary's men in his
tables, he has a better chance for a hit than if he had
more, provided his game is forwarder than that of his
antagonist ; for if he had three or more of the adver-
sary's men in his tables, he would stand a worse chance
to be hit.

When a player is ranning to save the gammon, ii he
should have two men upon his ace point, and several
men abroad, although he should lose one point or two
in putting his men into his tables, it is his interest to
leave a man upon the adversary's ace point, because
it will prevent his adversary from bearing his men to
the greatest advantage, and at the same time the player
will have a chance of the adversary's making a blot,
which he may chance to hit. However, if a player
finds, upon a throw, that he has a probability of saving
his gammon, he should never wait for a blot, as the
odds are greatly against his hitting it, but should em-
brace that opportunity.

BILLIARDS.

This sport may be Laid to combine the principles of
bowls, golf, and some other games in which objects are
impelled from the hand. Whether the game was in-
vented in France or England is not clearly ascertained ;
but as it is mentioned by Shakspeare, it ;b at least as
old in this country as the sixteonth century. In the
present day, it is pursued in every civilised country,
but principally by the higher or leisurely classes of
society. In France it is much more common than in
England, where its character has suffered materially
by the game having been made the subject of large
gambling speculations. It is unfortunate that such
should be the case, for no game is to be considered so
purely scientific: it is dynamici, or certain laws of
motion, put into practical operation; the hits or con-
cussions of the balls exhibiting some of the finest
examples of divergent forces.

Billiards is played with a table, certain kinds of rods,
and balls. The table varies in size; that in most com-
mon use being from eight to twelve feet long, and from
four and a-half to six feet in width. Whatever be its
dimeusiona, it requirea to be perfectly level and smooth.

663

CHAMBKRETS INFOULinOir TOB THE PEOPLE.

I( b ordSnuUy made of nnall piaow of wood Joined
■ together, lo m to aToid wupuig, And theno being
brought to a deAd lerel br p)»ning, the lurface >•
coTered with fine JPf*^ cloth. All round ia » ledse
two to three inches liii;h, and stuffed as a cushion. The
tajble is furnished with six pockets, one at each of the
four comen, and one on eacn side at the middle. The
mouths of these pockets or purses are level with the
■urface, so ai to allow the itaUs to glide easily into
them.

. The balls are of itoij, about an inch and a-half in
diameter. Two are white, and one is red. One of the
white is distinguished by a spot. There are usui^iy
two players^ he who owns the plain ball is called Plain,
and he who owns the spotted ball is termed Spot. The
Ted ball belongs to neither, but is aimed at by both.

The rods or bills used by the players are of two
kinds, and different lengths, to suit different players.
The ordinary kind of rod is called a cue. It is long
and smooth, with one end thick and heavy, and the
other more slender. The other kind of rod is termed
a nuue ; it has a club-like extremity, and is much less
irequently used. Almost all players employ cues of
the leneth which suits them.

In putying, the left hand is rested with the palm
undermost on the table. The palm is hollowed, and
the thumb, close to the forefinger, is raised up to form
a bridge or rest for the cne. The hand is to be at the
distance of about six inches from the ball. The cue is
lightly held in the risht hand, the thick end uppermost,
the blow being struck with the small extremity. Thus
held, in a free but firm manner, and resting on the
channel between the forefinger and thumb, toe cue is
given a sharp run forward, so as to hit the ball in the
required direction, and with that exact degree of force
which will make it perform the desired feat. To pre-
vent slipping, the point of the cue is generally chalked.

The table is laid out as follows for play: — At the dis-
tance of about a foot from one end, in the centre of the
table, is a small dot or mark in the cloth, on which the
red ball is placed. At a similar distance from the
other, which we shall call the upper end of the table, a
line is made across by a chalked string; and in the
middle of this line there is a mark on which the white
ball of a player is to be struck from.

The leading principle in the sport is for a player to
impel his white ball against the red ball, and drive
them into a pocket or pockets; or to perform a still
gr« ater feat of striking the red ball, the adversary's ball,
and his own ball, into pockets. It must be understood
that nothing is ^ined by a player striking his own ball
direct into a pocket; anybody could do that, and there
would be no science in it. The merit consists in im-
pelling balls against each other, at such an exact angle
that one or both may be pocketed ; and the skill dis-
played in this is often very surprising.

In setting out in a game, the first stroke or lead is
determined by lot. This is called ttriitging for the
lead. Each player hits his ball from the itring or line,
and he who causes it to rebound from the bottom
cushion and come back nearest to tLo upper cushion,
has the lead and the choice of the balls.

The first player begins by striking his ball from the
string against the red ball, as already mentioned; and
if he pockets the balls, he scores a certain number, and
begins again. So long as he pockets, the adversary
does not get a stroke. If the player miss, the adver-
sary takes his turn. Both now play alternately, hitting
the balls where they chance to lie ; but when one
pockets, he starts afresh by striking from the string.

A person in attendance tcoru or keeps reckoning of
the play. He does this by means of two indices moving
round a figured circle, and when one is gained, he turns
the index accordingly. Technically, he is told to Kore
one for Plain or one for Spot.

Hitherto we have spoken of billiards ai one game,
but it is necessary to explain that at least twelve dif-
ferent games may be played. We shall notice the two
following •• those ia common use :—
664

WiBAlog and Losing Qame.

This is played by two persons, and twenty-one points
are the game. The folloring are Hoyle's regulations
for playipg it : —

1. Tlio game oommenoes, as usual, with stringing Air the lead,
as well as the choice of balli. The ball in ttringing to be placed
within the olrcle, and the striker must stand within the comers
of the taUe. The boll which rebounds from the bottom oiuhion ,
and oomea neaicst to the cushion within tho baullc, takes the
lead, and has the ohoiee of balls.

I. If the adversary to tho first person who has strung fbr tho
lead ahould cause his ball to touch tho other, he loses tho lead
thereby.

3. Wlien a playor holds the ball in stringing or leading, his lead
ia forfeited.

4. If n ball is followed by either roaoe or cue beyond tlie middle
hole, it is no lead ; the adversary of ooorae may force him to
renew his lead.

5. After every losing Imsard, the boll Is to be replaced within
tho nails or spots, and within the ring.

6. The place fat tho red boll Is on the lowest of tho two spots at
the bottom of the tabUi

7. The rod boll Iwing holed, or forced over tho table, la placed
immediately on tho lowest of tho two spots ; the present player is,
besides, compelled to see it thus replaced, else he cannot score
any points while it is off the spot ; the stroke of course is foul,

8. When tho player misses his adversary's ball, he loses one ;
but should he at the same time pocket his own ball, he then loses
three besides the li-ad.

0, Tlio adversary's ktU, and tho rod boll also, being struck by
a player,

10. >Vhon the striker, after making a hazard or carambolc,
accidentally forces his own or either of the other balls over the
table, he loses all tho advantages he has gained lieeides the lead.

II. When a ball is oocidentally forced over tho table, the striker
loses tho lead,

IS, To strike your adversary's boll and the red one too, you sane
two ; this is called a carom or carambole. <

13. To hide the adversary's or the white ball, you score tiVo.
To hole the rod ball you score three,

U. When tho striker holes his own ball off his adversary's, ha
scores two points) but if he holes his bell olf the red, he scores
three, llut if ho holes both the red and his adversary's balls,
he scores five. If the player holes the red and his own ball, he
scores six.

15. If the striker holes his own and his antagonist's boll, ho
sconn four.

16. When the striker plays at tho white ball, and should hole
tho red after that, and his own ball besides, he scores flvo— two
for holing tho white, and three for thn rod.

1 7. When the striker, playing on the red ball first, should pocket
his own as well as his lulvcrsary's ball, ho scores tlvo points ; three
fbr haling off the red, and two for holing bis own.

18. If the player holes his adversary's ball, his own, and the
red, ho scores seven points ; namely, two for holing olf the white,
two for tho advonury's holing, and three fbr holing the red
ball.

19. Should the striker hole his own ball off the red, and Iiole
the red and his adversary's too at the same stroke, ho scores eight
pointH thus : throe ibr holing himself off the red, three for the red
itself, and two fur lioling liis adversary.

*** All the above games, commencing with tho thirteenth, ore
scored without the canuuboles ; the fbllowing arj those in which
tho oarambolos occur : —

20. When a oarambolo is made, and the adversary's ball is
pocketed, four ara soored ; namely, two fur the carambole, and
two for the white,

21. If the striker pockets the red ball after making a carambole,
ho scores five ; two fur the eurunilKile, and three for tho red.

ii. If tho striker should hole both his adversary's und the red
bell, after having caramboled, he sconn seven; two for tlie
oarambolo, two fur tlio wliitc, and three for tho rod ball.

23. When a carambole is mode by striking the white bail first,
and the strikur's ball should bo holed by tho same stroke, four
points nre gained.

il. When the striker makes a carambole by striking the red
ball first, and should hulu his own ball at the same time, he gains
five iwiats ; throe fur tho red losing hazard, and two for the ca-
rambole,

!S. If in playing at the whito ball first, you should make a
caranibolo, und hule your own and adversary's ball at the same
time, you score six points ; namely, two for each white hasani,
and two fbr tho carambulo,

26. The striker wins seven points when he oarambolos off the
red ball, and hulua liis own and his adversary's ball ; namely, two
for the cunim, two for the whito, and three for the red hnsard.

27. When the player curambules by playing first at the white,
and should also hole his own and tlie rod, hu scores seven points ;
namely, two for the carom, two for the white losing hazard, and
three for tho rod winning hazard.

28. When the player earemboles by hitting the rod bell first,
and also holes bis own and the red, be scores eight ; namely, two
for tho carom, thrve for tho red winning haaud, and throe for
tlic led losing iuuard.

BILLIABDS.

' ' rod ball fint, nnd at

ball, the red bnll, and

..-on the principle of the

I off the
lely, two
aianl.
le white,
points;
ord, and

St. 8honId a player oarambolo on the white Loll flrat, and then
hole bia own ball and his opponent's, and the rod ball besidea, he
than loorea nine ; thua two for thu caroM, two for each white,
and three for the red hautrd.

'0. If a carambolo ia done by iitriM
the aame itroko the player holtu " ''
his odvenaiy'a too, be gahis ten pbi<
preceding rule.

SI. When your adveriaiy's ball ia eft tl»o table, and the other
two balls are upon the line or inside o( tlto stringing nalla at the
loading end of the table, it ia named being within the baulk.
The player, therefore, striking from the ring, must make his ball
rebound trom the opposite cushion, so as to hit one of the balls
within the baulk; if he misses, he loses a point.

Si. Now and then it ooours that after the nil ball has been forced
over the table or holed, ono of tho wliito balls has so taken up tlie
place of the red ball, that it cannot bo replaced in its proper
situation without touching it. In such, the marker holds the red
ball in his hand, while the player strikes at his opponent's ball.

13. And directly after tho stroke, replaces it on the proper spot,
In Older that it may not prevcut a carambolo from being made.

M. When the striker plays a wrong ball, it is reckoned a foul
stroke.

is. When the player is about to strike nt or pluy with the
wrong ban, none in the ttxim can with propriety discover it to
him, his partner excepted, if they are playing a double match.

W. When the player, after making a cnrom or a hazard, should,
either with his hand, cue, or mace, move either of the bolls re-
maining on the table, the stroke is foul.

S7. If the striker should play with the wrong ball, and this
erroneous play should not be discovered by his opponent, the
marker is obliged to score, and he is a winner of all tho points
he has gained by the stroke.

38. Mono can move or touch a ball without permission of the
odvonary.

39. Sometimes a ball happens to bo changed in tho course of the
game, and it cannot be ascertained by which player; in that
cose the balls must be used as they then are, and the game so
played out

40. It is a foul stroke when the striker, in tho act of playing,
should happen to touch his ball twice.

41. Sometimes the player accidentally touches or moves his
ball, without intending to strike. In that case ho loses no point,
but his ball may be replaced as it originally stood.

42. When a striker's adversary or spectator impedes the player's
stroke by accident or design, he has a right to renew his stroke.

43. Should a player, in tho act of striking, hit his ball, and
cause bis cue or his mace to go over it or past it, he forfeits a
point.

44. No striker can play upon a runn ing ball ; such stroke is foul.
46. An accidental stroke is to be considered good if attended

with tho proper effbct, though, by missing the cue, &c. it is not
intended as such.

46. Should a striker, in attempting to play, not hit his ball at
all, it is no stroke, and he is to try again.

47. Should the striker or his adversary, in the act of playing,
move by accident or design tho opponent's white or .-cd ball from
the place it occupied on the tabic, the stroke is foul.

48. When the striker's ball and either of the other balls are so
close as to touch each other, and in striking at tlic former, either
of tho latter is moved from its place, the stroke is foul.

49. Whoever stops a running ball in any way loses tho lead, if
the opponent does not like tho situatiou of the ball he has to play
at next time.

80. It may happen that a striker, after having made a earam-
bole or a hazard, interrupts, by accident, the course of his own
ball ; in this case he scores nothing, as tho stroke is foul.

SI. Should a player impede the couno of his own ball, after
having made a miss, nnd it is running towards tho hole, and it is
so thought also by the marker, ho loses throe points.

9S. To stop, retain, or impede tho adversary in the act of strik-
ing, is deemed fbul.

53. Should a player in any way intemipt, stop, or 4rive his
adversary's ball out of its eourso when runutng towards a pocket,
be forfeits three points.

54. Even blowing upon a ball whilst running makes a stroke
foul; and should the striker's ball be making its way towards a
hole, and he blow upon it, ho loses two poincs by such act.

55. If a maco or cue is thrown upon the table during a stroke,
it is baulking the striker, and tho stroke is considered foul.

50. No play is deemed correct when unth feet are off the ground.

57. If the table is struck when a ball is running, the stroke is
deemed fbul.

58. A player leaving a game unfinished loses that gnme.

59. Some tables are so uneven that they give wny toward the
pockets. In case a ball should go to the brink of a hide, and after
there resting Ibr a few seconds, should drop into it, such tells
for nothing ; and tho ball must be again placed on the brink be-
fore the adversary strikes again ; and should it fall Into the hole
again the moment the striker has played his ball, so as to frus-
trate the intended success of his stroke, tho striker's and his
opponent'* balls must be placed as they were originally, and the
strokes played over again.

80. Wiien a player's mace or cue should touch both balls in tho
•ot of striking, the stroke is foul ; and if noticed by his opponent,
nothing is gatawd on the points made by the stroke ; and the
opponsnt may, if he pleases, port the bolls also.

81. Those who agree to play with the one niut do so durint
tho whole of the match ; but if no conditions of this sort have
been mado, the player may change as he pleases. No player can,
without permission of the adversary, brrak his agreement.

6S. If a foul stroke is made, the adversary may either pttrt the
balls and play from tho ring, or. If the balls should be Ihvourably
placed for himself, permit the striker to score the points he had
gained, which the marker is bound to do in all cases where the
balls aro not broken.

83. All agreements are specially binding. For Instance, those
who agree to play with the Oue point and point, cannot use the
butt without permission; but they may use the long cue: and
the same with those who agree to play with tho butt only.

(14. A striker wins, and the marker is obliged to score all the
points he gains, by unfair strokes, if the adversary neglects to
detect them.

65. Ho who offers to part the balls, and the adversary agreeing
to tho same, the offerer loses the lead by such proposal.

68. None (unless they belong to a four match) have a right to
comment on a stroke, whether foir or foul, until asked ; and in
the above case, none but the player and his partner can ask it

87. When disputes arise between the players, the marker alone
decides, and thera is no appeal from his decision. But it may
occur he might have been inattentive to the stroke ; in that case
he is to collect the sense of the disinterested part of the company;
namely, those who have no bets on the stroke, and their decision
is to bo flnaL

Tho MThite Game.
Two players are engaged as above, and the striking
is alternate. The general principle is, that you win if
^ou pocket the red ball or your adversary's ball, but
invariably lose if by any means you hole your own ball.
The number of points in the game is twelve. The
following are Hoyle's regulations : —

I. In beginning, string for the lead, and the choice of balls, U
you please.

S. When a person strings for the lead, he must stand within
the limits of tho comer of the table, and also must not place his
ball beyond tho stringing nails or spots ; and ho who brings his
ball nearest tho cushion wins the lead.

3. If after the first person has strung for tho lead, and his
adversary who follows him should make his ball touch the other,
he loses tho lead.

4. Should the player hole his own ball, either in stringing or
leading, he loses the lead.

5. Should the leader follow his ball with cither mace or cue
past the middle hole, it is no lead ; and if his adversary chooses,
he may make him lead again.

6. Tho striker who plays at the lead must stand with both his
feet within tlio limits of the comer of tho table, and must not
place his ball beyond the stringing nails or spots ; and his adver-
sary (only) is bound to see that he stauds and plays fair, else the
striker wins all the points he made by that stroke.

7. When a hazard has been lost in either of tho comer boles,
tho leader is obliged (If his adversary requires it) to lead from tho
end of the table where the hazard was lust; but if the hazard was
lost in cither of the middle holes, it is at the leader's option to
lead from either end of the table he pleases.

8. If the striker misses his adversary's ball, he loses one point ;
and if, by the said stroke, his ball should go into a hole, over tho
table, or on a cushion, he loses three points ; namely, ono for
missing the ball, and two for holing it, &c. ; and he loses the
lead.

9. If the striker holes his adversary's ball, or forces It over tho
table, or on a cushion, he loses two points.

10. If tho striker holes his own ball, or forces it over the tabic,
or on a cushion, he loses two points.

II. If the striker holes both balls, or forces them over the table,
or on a cushion, he loses two points.

IS. No one has a right to take up his ball without permission
from his adversary.

13. If the striker, by accident, should touch or move his own
ball, not intending to moke a stroke, it is deemed as dn accident;
and his adversary, if he requires it, may put the ball back in the
place where it stood.

14. If the striker forces his adversary's ball over the table, and
his adversary should chance to stop it, so as to make it come on
tho table again, the striker nevertheless wins two points.

15. When the striker forces his own ball overtlie table, and his
adversary should chance to stop It, so as to make it come on the
table again, tho striker loses nothing by tho stroke, and ho hath
the lead ; because his advci lary ought not to stand in tho way,
or near tho table.

16. If the striker misses the ball, and forces it over the table,
and it should be stopped by his adversary, as before mentioned,
he loses one point, and has the lead, if he chooses.

17. If the striker, in playing from a cushion or otherwise, by
touching the ball, makes his mace or cue go over or past it, he
loses one point ; and if his adversary requires it, he may put tho
ball back, and may make him pass the ball.

18. If the striker, in attempting to make a stroke, doth not
touch his boll, it ia no stroke ; and he must try again to make a
stroke.

19. If, when the balls arc near each other, and the striker by

665

'■^^^I**

(sOAUBimfB iNA>tta«oir ton this msopls.

•Mldent ihOUld malM hi* ball tonoh the oUwr tell, It ta nercr-
thelen > itnAo, though not Intended M luoh.

M. If the itriker who pUn the itToko ihould make hl( idver-
■ary'i ball go M near the brink of a hole as to be Judged to itand
■tUl, and afterward* ihould fhll into it, the Btrikor wins nothing ;
and the ball muat be put on thu sumo brink where it itood, for
bia adversary to play from the next itroko.

JV.A— There t* no ocouaion for ohallonging the tell if it ttops,
aa lome Imagine.

n. If the itrlkor's tell should stand on the brink or edge of a
hole, and if, in playing it off, he should make the tell go in, he
laws three points.

tt. If a boll should stand on the brink or on tho edge of a hole,
and it shonld fall Into tho hole before or when tho striker has
ddlvered his ball ftam his nuu» or cue, so as to hnvu no chance
far his atroko, In that caso the striker and his adversary's tells
must te placed in tho same position, or aa near as possible thereto,
and the striker must play again.

SS. The striker is obliged to pass his adronaiy's tell, more
aspeotally if he misses Oie ball on purpose; and his adversary
may, if he ohooaes, oblige him to place tho ball where it stood,
and play until ho has passed.

U, If the striker plays both tells fkt>m his mace or cue, so ttet
they touch at the same time, It is deemed a foul stroke ; and If
it Is discovered by his adversary, and a dispute should arise
thereon, he has an undoubted right to appeal to the disinterested
company then present ; and if detorminod by the majority of
tlie disintcrestt-xl company, and the marker. If needful, to te a
foul stroke, then it is at his adversary's option (if not holed)
either to play at tho tell or take the lead. But if, by the atevo-
raentioned stroke, his adversary doth not discover it to te a foul
stroke, then tho striker may reckon all the points be mode by
the said stroke, and the marker is obliged to marl^ them.

55. No person hath a, right to discover to tho player whether
tho stroke is feir or foul, until it is asked.

56. If by a foul stroke the striker should holo his adversary's
tell, he loses tho lead.

87. If by a foul stroke tho striker holes his own or teth teUs,
or forces his own or both tells over tho table, or on a cushion,
lie loses two points.

S8. If tho striker plays on a tell when It la running or moving.
It is deemed as a foul stroke.

t9. If the striker plays with teth fcct off the ground, withont
the permission of his adversary, it is dcemod a foul stroke.

SO. If the striker plays with a wrong tell ho loses the lead, if
his adversary requires it.

81. If the tell should te changed in a hazard or on a game, and
It is not known by which party, tho hazard must te played out
by each party with their dlflferont tells, and then changed.

8S. If the striker pluys with his adversary's ball, and holes or
forces tlie ball he played at over tho table, &c. it is deemed a
foul stroke.

S3. If the striker plays with his adversary's tell, and holes or
fbroes the tell he played with over the table, &c. ho loses two
points ; and if ho missed tho tell, three points.

34. If the striker plays with his adversary's tell, and misses
it, he loses one point ; and if bis adversary discovers ttet he
hath played with the wrong tell, he may part the balls, and take
tile lead if ho pleases.

as. In all tbn before-mentioned cases of the striker's playing
with tho wrong ball (if discovered), his adversary must play with
the tell tho striker played at throughout tho hazard, or part the
tells nnd take the lead.

36. Whoever stops a boll when running with hand, stick, or
otherwise, loses Uie load, If his adveiaary docs not like tho ball
ho has to play at the next stroke.

37. Whoever retains bis adversary's stick when playing, it is
deemed foul.

38. If the striker stops or puts his own tell out of its course
when running towards either of the holes, and if atUudgod by the
marker nnd the disinterested company then present to te goin.i
into a pocket, if lie missed tho boll ho loses one point, and, if
going into a liole by tho same stroke, three points.

39. If tho striker stops or puts his odvunuuy's tell out of the
course wten running towards or into a holo, or puts his adver-
sary's tell into n hole, it is deemed a fuul stroke.

N.B.—U tho adversary doth tlic same as in tho foregoing rules,
he is sul^ectcd to tlie same penalties as tho striker.

40. Ho who shakes tho table when tho tell is running malces
it a foul stroke.

41. Ue who throws his stick upon the table, so as apparently
to te of any detriment to his adversary, makes it a foul stroke.

42. lie who blows on tho ball when running makes it fouL
And If his own ball was running towards or near the hole,
lie loses two points.

43. lie who leaves tho game before it is finislied, and will not
play it out, loses tlw game.

44. Any person may change his mace or sue in playing, unless
otherwise imviously agreed on.

45. When two persons arc at play, and no particular terms of
agreement have been mode, neither party has a right to ot^aot
to either nioec or cue telng played within tlie said game.

46. Wlien the parties agree to play mace against one, the maoo
player teth nu right to use a cue, nor has the cue player any
right to use u maco during tho game or match, without pannis-
■iim from his adversary.

47. When a person agrees to play with th« one, he mnit piny

erary ball within his roach with the point thereof; and If lie
agrees to play with the butt of the cue, ho has no right to play
with the point thereof, withont permission firom his adversary.

48. When the parties agree to play point and point of the cue,
neither ef them has a right to use a butt during tte game or
match without permission, &o., but they hare a right to play
with the {loint of a long cue over a mace, Ito.

49. When tho parties ngieo to play all point with the same cuo,
they have no right to use any other during tte game or matoh.

W. Whoever proposes to part tho tells, and his adversary
agrees to it, tho proposer thereof loses tte load.

SI. Two missings do not make a hazard, unless It is prorionsly
agreed on to tho contrary.

22. In ail cases, tho betters are to abide by the players on thu
determination of tho hazard, or on the game; and the tetters
teve a right to demand their mon«y when their game is over, tu
prevent disputes.

05. Every person ought to te very attentive, and listen for tho
stroke, teforo liu opens the door of a blUlard-room.

S4. The striker has a right to command his adversary not to
stand facing him, nor near him, so as to annoy or molest him in
the stroke.

50. Each party Is to attend to his own game, and not to ask If
his adversary's tell te close ?— if ho touches his ball ?— If he can
go round tho tell ?— nor any question of the like tendency ; nor
is any one to te set right, if going to play with the wrong ball.

06. Wlien four persons play, tho game is fifteen in numter, and
each party has a right to consult with and direct his partner in
anything respecting the game, dec; and tho party who makes
two missings before a hazard is made, is out, and it is his part-
ner's turn to play ; but if, after tho two missings teve been madu
by the party, his adversary should liolo a hall, so as to make a
hazard, tho stroke following tlio said two missings have been
made, yet the iNuty who did not make tho two misabig^i is to
play, as ho cannot te supposed to te out '.vho has not nude a
stroke,

tlAOATELLR

The large and inconTenient size of billiard •i^blcn
haa led to the introduction of bngatelle-tablei — buga-
lelle being the French word for anything trifling.
A bagatelle- table is usually about fire feet long and
eighteen inches broad; it » lined with cloth, and a
game is performed on it with balls and a cue or mace.
The balls are small ivory spheres, and the sport Teiy
much consists in striking one or more into holes at
one end of the board. To perform this and other feats,
some skill and eiperience are required, and the sport
is far from unamusing in a cheerful parlour circle. Of
late years, bagatelle-tables have become very common
in the houses of the middle classes of society : they
possess the recommendation of being purchaaeable at
a small expense.

GAMES WITH CARDS.

Playing-cards are sma.U oblong pieces of pasteboard,
on which dirers figures are impressed in two principal
colours — red and black. Fifty-two cards form a pack,
or complete set for playing any game. The pack con-
sists of four luites or kinds of cards, thirteen in each,
distinguishable by their respeotire marks. The suites
are hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades. Hearts and
diamonds are red ; clubs and spades are black. The
thirteen in each suite consist of ten cards, distinguish-
able by spots, from one to ten ; and three cards, ordi-
narilv called court curds, from being impressed with
certam figures having a semblance of court costume-
one of these is the king, another the queen, and a third
the knave or jack.

Of the origin of playing-cards, and the signification
of their respective markings, there has been no small
controversv amons antiquaries. The general opinion
has been that cards were invented about the year ]39'2,
for the purpose of amusing Charles VI. of France, at
the time he was afflicted with a mental depression or
derangement. But it has been ascertained that, in
1387, John I., king of Castile, issued an edict forbid-
ding the playing of cards in his dominions ; and from
this, as well as from some of the names given to the
cards, it is extremely probable that playing-cards were
known in Europe as early <m about the middle of the
fourteenth century. At first, the outlines of the figures
on the cards were made by stamps, and afterwards
filled np by the hand ; but soon after the invention of
engraving on blocks, the devices were produced by wood,

(}A)ii!s vnrH oabds.

k&d inftoiently finiibed, lo that the imprenioni did
not require any anittanoe from the pencil.

The namee— hearts, diamonda, spadei, and clubi —
which the English give to the cards, appear to be in a
great measure a corruption of the original Spanish and
French appellations, or a misapplication of terms to
the original symbols. We find the following aooount
given of the design and names of the cards in the work
of an anonymous writer : —

' The inventor proposed, by the ficures of the four
suites, or colours, as the French caU them, to repre-
sent the four states or classes of men in the kingdom.

By the Caiar* (hearts) are meant the gens de ehaur,
choir men, or ecclesiastics; and therefore the Spaniards,
who certahily receiTod the use of cards from the French,
have copoi, or chalices, instead of hearts.

The nobility or prime military part of the kingdom
are represented by the ends or points of lances or
pilces, and our ignorance of the meaning or resem-
blance of the figure induced us to call them spades.
The Spaniards have eipadet (swords) in lieu of pikes,
which is of similar imp-jrt.

By diamonds are designed the order of citizens, mer-
chants, and tradesmen, earreux (square stone tiles or
the like). The Spaniards have a coin, dinero, which
answers to it; and the Dutch call the French word ear-
reux, ttieneen, stones and diamonds, from the form.

Treste, the trefoil leaf, or clover grass (corruptly
called clubs), alludes to the husbandmen and peasants.
How this suite came to be called clubs is not explained,
unless, borrowing the game from the Spaniards, who
have bossos (staves or clubs) instead of the trefoil, we
gave the Spanish signification to the French figure.

The history of the four kings, which the French in
drollery sometimes call the cards, is David, Alexander,
Ccesar, and Charlei (which names werq then, and still
on the French cards). These respectable names

are,

represent the four celebrated monarchies of the Jews,

Greeks, Romans, and Franks, under Charlemagne.

By the queens are intended Argine, Esther, Judith,
and Pallas (names retained in the French cards), typi-
cal of birth, piety, fortitude, and wisdom, the qualifica-
tions residing in each person. Argine is an anagram
for regina (queen by descent).

By the knaves were designed the servants to knights
(for knave originally meant only servant; and in an
old translation of the Bible, St Paul is called the knave
of Christ); but French pages and valets, now indis-
criminately used by various orders of persons, were
formerly only allowed to persons of quality ; esquires
{escuiers), shield or armour-bearers.

Others fancy that the knights themselves were de-
signed by those cards, because Ilogier and Ldhire, two
names on the French cards, were famous knights at
the time cards were supposed to be invented.'

With the entire pack of fifty-two cards, or with only
a portion of it, there have been innumerable games,
and there are so still ; to notice the whole of these,
however, would occupy too much of our space, and we
propose to confine our explanations to what are con-
sidered respectable and harmlessly-amusing games.

WHIBT.

All games at cards, in our opinion, are insignificant
in comparison with whia, which is believed to take its
name from an old exclamation to keep silence; it
must at least be couductbd noiselessly, and with ex-
treme attention. The whole structure of the game is
ingenious, and a result of just calculation. Its rules
have all been carefully studied, and there seems to be
a sufiicient reason why each has been instituted. The
game is a happy blending of skill and chance; skill
being the most important element, and chance only
accessary, in order to impart a due relish or piquancy
to the sport, and deprive highly-skilled players of being
always certain of the victory.

Wnist is played by four persons, two forming a partv
6r side. The four sit at a square taole, one on each
aide, partners beiAg opposite to each other. The table

should be covered with cloth, to pemtt a& easy liftbg
of the cards. Before commencing the game, a pack of
cards is laid on the table, the faces undermost. The
parties then eut for partners; that is, they leave it to
chance to determine who shall be partners. This is
done by eav. person lifting or cutting a portion of the
cards from the heap or pack, and the two who have
the highest cords play together.

The value of the cards is as follows :— At already
stated, there are four suites, each suite consisting of
thirt<!en cards, ten being common, and three being
court cards. The card in each suite which has but one
mark is called the aee \ and this ace is the highest in
value in (Jl cases except in cutting for partners, when
it is the lowest. The next highest is the king, the
next the queen, the next the knave; then the ten,
nine, eight, and su on down to the two, or deuoe, which
is the lowest. In plaving whist, one suite is of higher
value than any of the other three; but which suite
shall possess this temporary distinction depends on
chance in dealing out the cards; the last card dealt
out is turned up, and the suite to which it belongs
is called trumps;* trumps, then, is the suite of the
highest value. In the course of a came, the trump
suite may of course vary at everv deal.

The cutting of the pack, as above-mentioned, deter-
mines who are to be partners, and at the same time
determines who is to deal. The rule is, that he who
had the lowest card in cutting is the dealer. This
person shuffles the cards; that is, mixes them in any
way he thinks proper, always keeping the backs towards
him. Having done this, his adversary is entitled to
shu£9e the cards also; indeed each person has a right
to shuffle them, but this is seldom done. Being duly
shuffled, the pack is laid on the table (always backs
uppermost) before the youngest hand, ot the person
sitting to the right hand of the dealer; and he cuts it,
by lifting off a portion and laying it down. The dealer
now puts the lower portion on the top of the portion
laid ofi^, and is prepared for dealing.

Dealing must be neatly performed; the dealer hold-
ing the pack in his left hand, lifts off the top cards
with his right, and distributes them, one to each, all
round. He begins with the person on his left, who is
called the elder hand, then the person opposite, then the
youngest hand, and then himself. He thus goes thir-
teen rounds, the last card which he holds in his hand
falling to his own share. This last card he turns up,
and it determines the suite to be trumps. The dealer,
therefore, has at least always one trump in his hand,
but this advantage is supposed to be neutralised by
the adversaries having a knowledge of one of his cards.
The trump card lies on the table exposed till the first
trick is played. Any exposure of a card in dealing, by
real or pretended accident, is strictly provided against.
The following are Hoyle's

Rules for Dealing.

If a card Is turned up in dealing, the adverse party may call
a new deal if thoy think proper ; but if either of thciu has been
the cause of turning up such card, then the dealer has tliu option.

If a card is faced in the deal, there must be a fresh deal,
unless it happens to bo the last card.

It is the duty of every person who playa to see that ho has
thirteen cards. If any one happens to have only twelve, and
docc not find it out till several tricks are played, and that the
rest have their right number, the deal stands good, and tho
person who played with tho twelve cards is to bo punished for
each revoke, provided he has made any. But if any of the rest
of tho pUiyers should happen to have fourteen cards, in that case
the deal is lost.

The dealer should leave his trump card upon the table till it is
his turn to play ; and after ho has mixed it with his other cards,
no one has a right to demand what card was turned up, but may
ask what suite is trumps: in consequence of this law, the dealer
cannot name a wrong card, which otherwise he might have done.

None of the players may take up or look at their cards whUe
thi-y are dealing out: when this is tho case, tho dealer, if he
shjuld happen to miss deal, has a right to deal again, unless it
arises fTom his partner's fault i and if a card is turned up in

>* Tho term trmtp is believed to be a corruption of triumph,
meaning the triumphant card.

667

CHAMBKBffS IRFOBMAnON FOB THE PEOFLB.

daallng, no new d«*I can be eiaiad, nnloa th* pwinar wm Um
cauM of It*

Jtaaj panon dMl*. and Initod of tumtng up the trump, he
puta tba trump card upon the mt of hia carda, with the Cue
downwaida, ha loaoa hia deal.

FUgrlng the Game.
The e»tdi being all dealt, each takei up his hand,
which he must scrupulously prevent any of his aiita-
ronifts or his partner ftom seeing. The cards should
be ranged like a fan in the left hand, so that its holder
can see all his cards at a glance. It is advisable, for
the sake of order and convenience, to arrange the cards
in the hand, all of a suite together. Each having his
cards sorted, the game commences by the elder hand,
or person on the left of the dealer, laying down a card.
The person on his left follows, and so on to the dealer,
who lays down last.

The principle of playing is as follows : — Whatever
suite the first card is of, that suite must, if possible, be
followed by each party round ; but if one party has not
a card of that suite, he can lay down one of any other
suite. Should he do so, and afterwards lay down a
card of the suite which be appeared to be deficient of,
he has committed a rerolx, and a penalty is exacted
in loss of three tricks. It is necessary, for the sake of
fair play, to be very rigorous in punishing a revoke.

The H>ur cards laid down in a round is called a trick.
The trick is won in various ways. The card of the
highest value wins. For example, if the first player
lays down a deuce of spades, the second a three of
spades, the third a four of spades, and the fourth a five
of spades, this last person wins; his party gains a trick.
But should one of the players not have a spade in bis
hand, and lays down a deuce of the suite which hap-
pens to be trumps, that card wins. No matter how high
m value the cards laid down are, the trick is always
won by a trump card, though it were only a deuce. If
several trump cards be laid down, or all be trumps, then
the highest trump card wins. The ace of trumps is the
hichest card.

When the trick is placed, it is lifted by the person
who wins, and placed beside him in a heap on the table,
back uppennost; and he continues to take up all other
tricks his party wins. Thus one on each side collects
and reckons the tricks.

Whoever wins the trick becoraoe elder hand, and
plays first in next round; and so on each winner plays
first till all the cards are played out.

A pack produces thirteen tricks, but none is counted
till after six. For instance, if one party wins four
tricks, they do not count; and the other party which
has nine tricks counts three. Should one party gain
all the tricks, it counts seven.

The ace, king, queen, aud knave of trumps are called
honown. These have a peculiar value in reckoning
towards the game. Should each person hold one honour,
honours do not count; but should two partners hold
three honours between them, they score two points;
when they hold four, they score four points.

The game consists of ten pointt, and these may be
gainrd by tricks and by honours. Should a party make
six tricks and hold four honours, it has won the game
at one deal. U will therefore be perceived that honours,
the possession of which is a matter of mere chance,
exert a powerful influence in gaining the victory over
an adversary.

Only at one time in the game do honours not count;
this is wh<!n the party ig at nine; the odd point to make
up to ten being only gained by tricks. When a party
is at eight, and the first trick has been played, one of
that party, who holds two honours, may ask his partner
if he has one honour; and if he says he has, the three
honours are at once shown, which concludes the game.
There are rules for calling honours, which we subjoin.

In the coarse of playing the game, no one must drop
the slightest hint how he wishes his partner to play, or
make any other obsei ration calculated to misleau or
direct. Neither may any one, before his partner has
played, infonn him that he haa or hut not won the

trick; even the attempt to tak« up a triok, though won
before the last partner haa played, is deemed very im-
proper.

All parties must play by their own peroeptioni of what
would De most judicious. There is only one exception
to the rule of keeping silence, which is in the case of a
revoke. If a person happens not to follow suite, or
trump a suite, the partner is at liberty to inquire of
him whether he is sure he has none of that suite in his
hand. This indulgence must have arisen from the
severe penalties annexed to revoking, which afiects the
partners equally, and is now universally admitted.

The great knack in playing whist is to remember what
is out, and hence, by the play of both partner and ad-
versaries, to have a shrewd guess of what each holds iu
his hand. A primary rule is to follow a partner's lead,
as it is presumed that no one, in playing first, is with-
out a good reason for tabling a particular suite.

The term fine»»ing signifies the attempt to gain an
advantage; thus if you have the best and third best
card of the suite led, you put on the third best, and
run the risk of your adversary having the second best;
if he has not, which is two to one against him, you are
then certain of gaining a trick.

A loose card is a card of no value, and consequently
the most proper to throw away; it would be folly to
lay a good card down, when it must clearly be taken
by a better card already tabled.

A sequence is a succession of cards in the same suite;
as ace, king, queen, knave.

Tenace is possessing the first and third best cards,
ai'l being last player; you consequently conquer the
adversary when that suite is plaved.

Scoring is the method of reckoning the points in a

game. The reckoning is made by four counters, or

pieces of money; and the way in which these pieces

are disposed shows the score. The following is the

-ainary method of scoring : —

1S34S6789

00 000

000000000000000

Rules for Playing.

If a person plays out of his proper turn, or shows a card, it is
in the option of either of hia adversaries to call that card ; that
is, cauM! him to lay it down at any time in that deal, providud
it does not nmko bini ruvulio ; or either of the adversaries may
re(|uirc of tbi! person who ought to have led, the suite the said
adversary inuy choose.

If a person supposes ho lins won the trick, and leads again be-
fore his partner has played, the adversary may oblige his partner
to win it if be can.

If a person leads, and his partner plays before hia turn, the
adversary's partner may do the same.

If the ace or any other card of a suite is led, and the lost player
should happen to play out of bis turn, whether his partner has
any of the suite led or not, ho is neither entitled to trump it nor
to win the trick, provided you do not make him revoke.

If a revoke happens to be made, the adversaries may add tlirco
to tbei- score, or take three tricks ihim the revoking party, or
take down three from their score ; and if up, notwithstanding
the penalty, they must remain at nine : the revoke takes place
of any other score of the gome.

If any person revokes, and discovera it before the cards are
turned, the adversary may call the highest or lowest of the suito
led, or call the cord then played, at any time when it does not
cause a ri!voke.

No revoke can be claimed till the trick is turned and quitted,
or the party who revoked, or his partner, have played again.

If a revoke is claimed by any person, the adverse party are not
to mix their cards, upon forfoiture of the revoke.

Xo person can claim a revoke after the cards ore out for a new-
deal.

If any person calls, except at the point of eight, the adversaries
may coll a now deal, if tbuy think proper.

After the trump card is turned ui>, no person must remind his
partner to call, on penalty of losing one point.

No honours in the preceding deal can be set up after the trump
card is turned up, unless they wore before claimed.

If any person calls at eight, and his partner answers, and the
adverw party have both thrown down their cards, and It appears
that the parties calling have not the honours, the adversaries are
entitled, if they please, to compel the play to go on, or to have a
new deal.

If any person answers withont having an honour, the adver>
saiy may ooDSult awl Stand tfao deal or not.

GAMES WITH CARDS.

cord, itU
ard; that
, provldud
ariea may
e the said

If any penon eslla »t eight, alt«r ho liM played, it is in the
option of the advene party to call a new deal.

If any penon ■eparatei a card from the rcat, the odTeno party
may call it, provided ho names it, and prove* the separation ;
but if he calls a wrong card, he or his partner aro liable (or once
to have the highest or lowest card called in anyjuite led daring
thatdeoL

If any person, supposing the game lost, throws his cards upon
the table with their fooes upwards, ho mny not take them up
again, and the adverse party may call any of the cards when they
tliink proper, provided they do not moke the party revoke.

If any person is sure of winning every trick in hU liand, he may
show his cards, but he is then liable to have them called.

If any person omits playing to a trick, and it appears that he
has one card more than tlie rest, it is in the option of the adver-
sary to have a new deal.

Each penon, in playing, ought to lay his card beibre him; and
if any of the adversaries mix their cards with his, his partner
muy demand each person to lay his card before him, but not
to inquiro who played any particular cord.

Hints to Learners.

I. Lead from your strong suite (or that with which you could
make the most tricks), and be cautious how you change suites.

i. Lead through an honour, when you have a good hand— that
is, cause your aidversary on the left to lay down a good honour-
in order that it may br. taken up if possible by your partner.

S. Lead through the strong suite of the left-hand adversary,
and unto the we^ of him who is on the right; but not in trumps,
unless you are strong in them.

4. Lmd a trump if you have four or five, or a strong hand ; but
not if weak.

5. Sequences are eligible leads, and begin with the highest,

6. Follow your partner's lead, but not your adversary 's.

7. Do not lead bom ace queen or aco knave.

8. Do not lead an ace unless you have the king.

9. Do not lead a thirteenth cord unless trumps are out.

10. Do not trump a thirteenth card unless you are last player,
or want the load.

II. The third to play always to put on bis best card.
IS. When you aro in doubt, win the trick.

13. When you lead small trumps, begin with the highest.

14. Do not trump out when your partner is likely to trump a
suite.

15. Having only a faw small trumpa, make them when you can.

16. Make your tricks early, and be cautious how you finesse.

17. Never neglect to moke the odd trick when in your power.

18. Never force your adversary with yuur best curd, unless you
have the next beet.

19. If you have only one card of any suite, and but two or three
small trumps, lead the sin^e card.

50. Always endeavour to keep a commanding card to bring in
your strong suite.

51. When your partner leads, endeavour to keep the command
in his hand.

SS. Always keep the card you turned upas long as you conve-
niently can.

23. If your antagonists are eight, and you have no honour, play
your best trump.

S4. Always take care to reckon nnd amend the score at con-
clusion of each deal ; and do not speak or attempt to converse
unless between tlie deals.

A rubber, or rub, generally consistg of three games.
The parties who have two out of the three win the rub.
If the same party gain the first and the second game,
that concludes the rub, without playing the third.

A rubber aUo consists of five points. If a party
wins the game before the adversary has scored five, he
is said to have won a doubk, or two points. Two games
won in this manner count four points, and consequently
concludes the rubber, for which one point is also
reckoned. When an adversary has scored five or more
at the termination of the game, you have won only a
single, which counts but as one point.

Whist is sometimes played by three persons, the
fourth place being termed dumby. The cards for duniby
are exposed on the table, and played by one who un-
dertakes to act as dumby's partner throughout. This
method of playing very much destroys the interest of
the game, and is never resorted to but iu coses of ne-
cessity, when four persons cannot be hud,

CRIBBAOE.

This game is played with the whole pack of cards,
and by two, three, or four persons, as the case may be.
When there are three, they play as individuals; when
four, two play as partners, as in the case of whist. The
value of the cards in cribbage is the same as iu whist;
but there are no trumps, excepting the knave of the
suite turned up. There are different mod^s of playing.

according to the number of cardi de«lt; th« number
ii peneriHlv five or six. The game oopsisti of dxty-one
points, and to keep ecore or reckoning, an appairctui
called a cribbage-board is employed. This board poe*
sessM holes for the scoring of each party, and the
scoring is effected by means of pegs. The party who
is able to bring his peg into the last hole first wbs
the game.

The following is an explanation of terms generally
used in the game: —

Crib, the cards laid out by each party; and whaterer
points are made by them, the dealer scores.

Pair$ are two similar cards, as two aces or two
kings. They reckon for two points, whether in hand
or playing.

Fairs royal are three similar cards, and reckon for
six points, whether in hand or plaving.

JJouble pairs royal are four similar cards, and reckon

for twelve points, whether in hand or playing.

"1 double

The
points gained by pairs, pairs royal, and' double pairs
royal, in playing, are thus effected : your adversary
haying played a seven, and you another, constitutes a
pair, and entitles you to score two points; your anta-
gonist then playing a third seven, makes a pair royal,
and he marks six; and your playing a fourth is a
double pair royal, and entitles you to twelve points.

Fifteens. — Every fifteen reckons for two points,
whether in hand or playing. In hand, they are formed
either by two cards, such as a five and any tenth card,
a six and a nine, a seven and an eight; or by three
cards, as a two, a five, and an eight, &c. And in play-
ing thus, if such cai^s are pli^ed as make together
fifteen, the two points are to be scored towards the
game.

Sequences are three or four, or more successive
cards, and reckon for an equal number of points,
either in hand or playing. In playing a sequence, it
is of no consequence which card is thrown down first,
as thus : your adversary playing an ace, you a five, he
a three, you a two, then he a lour, he counts five for
the sequence.

Fliuh is when the cards are all of one suite, and
reckons for as many points as cards. For a flush in
the crib, the card turned up must be of the same suite
as those iu hand.

The go is gained by the player when no other num-
ber can be played under thirty-one, in which case he
takes one; out if the number makes thirty-one, he
takes two. The turn-up card accounts in with both
hand and crib.

Regulations for Phiying.

I. In dealing, the dealer may discover bis own cards, if ho
pleases, but not those of his adversary. If he does, that adversary
is entitled to mark two points, and call a fresh deal, if ho pleases.

8. If the dc<iler gives his adversary too many cards, the adver-
sary may score two points, and also demand anottier deal, pro-
vided ho dctc'jts the cr.er previous to his taking up his cards.

3. AVhcn any player is observed to luve in his hand more than
the proiier number of cards, in that case the person whodiscovers
it may mark four points to his game, and call a new deal, if he
thinks proper.

4. If the dealer gives himself more cards tlun he is entitled to,
the adversary may score two points to his game, and call a fi-esh
deal, ifhe thinks proper: if he does not, he is entitled todmwthe
extra cards from the dealer's hands. If the non-dealer observes
his adversary has more cards than aro his due, after they are
taken off the table, he may score four points to bis game, and
call a new deal.

6. If either party meddle with the cards from the time they
are dealt until they are cut for the turn-up card, bis adversary
is entitled to score two points.

(. If any player scores more than he is entitled to, the other
party has a right not only to put him back as many points as
were so scored, but also to score the same number to his own
gome.

7. If either party touches even his own pegs unncoesaarfly , tho
adversary may score two points to his game.

8. If either party take out his frmt peg, he must place the
same behind the other.

9. Either party scoring a less number of points than are his
due, incurs no penalty.

10. Each player has a right to pack his own cards ; and should
he place them on the pock and omit scoring far them, whether
hand or orlb, he must not piark for them afterwords.

669

OHAUBKBM UirOBMAflOK lOB TBI FIOPU.

VITI-OAKD OBIBBAOK.

Proptr oribUga te plwad with fir* owdi, and wt
■hall giT6 a dMoripUon ofit in NfemiM to two pononi.
Aftor the doalar hu baen dattrminod by cutting, aa
in whiit, thajr are dealt one alternately, to the extent
of fire for each indiridual. The elder hand takes
three points on the board. Each player then proceeds
to lay out two of the fire cards for the crib, which
always belong to the dealer. In doina this, always re-
collect whose crib it is, as the cards wnich may advan-
tage your own are almost invariably prejudicial to
your game when given to your adversary. This done,
the non-dealer cuts the remainder of the pack, and the
dealer turns up the uppermost. This card, whatever
it may be, is reckoned by each party in hand or crib.
When it happens to be a knave, the dealer scores two
points to his game.

After laying out and cutting as above-mentioned, the
eldest hand plays any card, which the other endeavours
to pair, or to find one, the points of which, reckoned
with the first, will make fifteen; then the non-dealer
plays another card, trying to make a pair, or pair
royal, and lo on alternately till the points of the cards
plaved make thirty one, or the nearest possible number
under that.

When the partv whose turn it mapr be to play can-
not produce a card that will make thirty-onr, or come
in under that number, he then says 'go' to his an-
taffonist, who thereupon is to play any card he has that
wul come in to make thirty-one, if he Cir., and take
two points, or to score one for the end hole; and be-
sides, the last player has often opportunities to take
pairs or sequences. Such cards aa remain after this
are not to m played; but each party having, during the
play, scored his points gained, in the manner aa here-
after directed, proceeds, the non-dealer first, then the
dealer, to count and take for his hand and crib as fol-
lows, reckoning the cards every way they possibly can
be varied, and always including the turned-up card : —

For every fifteen, two points; for every pair, or two
of a sort, two points; for every pair roval, or three of
a sort, six points; for every double pair royal, or four
of a sort, twelve points; for every sequence of any sort,
according to the number; for evei7 flush, according
to the number; for every knave or noddv of the same
suite as was turned up, one point; but when turned up
it is not to bo reckoned again, nor is anything to be
taken for it when played.

Three cards of the same suite in hand entitle the
holder to reckon that number, and five for the crib when
the turr.ed-up card happens to be of the same suite.

It is always highly necessary, in laying out cards for
the crib, that every player should consider not only
his own hand, but also whom the crib belongs to, and
what is the state of the game; because what might be
proper in one situation would be extremely imprudent
in another.

If you should happen to possess a pair royal, be sure
to lay out the other two cards fur either your own or
your adversary's crib, except you hold two fives with
the pair royal; in that case it would be extremely in-
judicious to lay them out for your adversary's crib,
unless the carJs you retain insure your game, or your
adversary being so near home that the crib becomes
of no importance.

It is generally right to flush your cards in hand
whenever you can, as it may assist your own crib or
baulk your opponent's.

Endeavour always to retain a sequence in your hand,
and particularly if it is a flush.

Always lay out close cards, such as a three and four,
a five and six, for your own crib, unless it breaks your
hand.

As there is one card more to count in the crib at five-
card cribbage than there is in hand, be suro to pay great
attention to the crib, as the chance of reckoning more
points for the crib than are in hand is five to four.

For your own ciib, always lay out two cards of tiu
tf7Q

■aiM mite, is imfaranea to two of dlAtont nitoi, M
this will give you tho ohaoce of a flush in the crib.

Never lav out cards of the samo suite for your ad-
versary's orib.

Endeavour always to baulk your opponant'a crib.
The best cards for this purpose are a king and an aoe,
a six, a seven, an eight, a nine, or a ten ; or a queen
with an ace, a six, a seven, an eight, or a nine ; or any
carda not likely to form a sequence.

A king is generally esteemed the greater baulk ; aa,
from its Ming the highest card in the pack, no higher
one can oome in to fonn a sequence.

Never lay out a knave for your adversary's orib,
when you can possibly avoid it, as it is only three to
one but the cud turned up is of the same suite, by
which he will obtain a point.

Even though you should hold a pair royal, never lay
out for your adversary's crib a two and three, a five
and six, a seven and eight, or a five and any tenth
card. Whenever you hold such cards, observe the
state of your game, and, particularly if it is nearly
ended, whether your adversary is nearly out, or within
a moderate show, and it is vour deal. When this is
the case, you must retain such cards aa will, in playing,
prevent your adversary from making paira or sequences,
kc, and enable you to win the end-hole, which will
often prevent your opponent from winning the game.

THREE AND FOVB BAND CRIBBAOB.

2%ree and four hand cribbage diflTers only from two
hand in as far as the parties only put out one card each
to the crib ; and when thirty-one, or as nearly as can
be, have been made, then the next eldest hand leads,
and the players go on again, in rotation, with any
remaining cords, till all are played out, before they
proceed to show their hands and crib.

In three-hand cribbage, a triangular board is used, with
three lines of holes to allow of each scoring his own game.

SIX-CARD CRIBBAOE.

Six -card cribbage bears so great a resemblance to
five-card, that any one playing the one well must play
the other equally so. It consists of paira, fifteens,
sequences, flushes, &c.; and the points are reckoned
and marked precisely in the same manner: all tho
cards must be played out ; that is, when either party
has made the end hole, the remaining cards in hand
must be played, scoring for the pairs or fifteens they
may form. When last player, you should endeavour
to retails close cards in nand, as they may enable you
to acquire four points in playing.

The dealer is supposed to have some trifling advantage.

The dealer is entitled to expect twenty-fiye points
by his hand, crib, and next hand. Thus at his second
deal, if his peg is in the twenty-fifth hole of the board,
he has his complement of points; the same at his third
deal, if he is within eleven points of the game.

If the non-dealer by his first hand attain the eleventh
hole in the board, he will have the best of the game ;
for hu is entitled to expect that he shall make his
second deal with his front peg in the thirty-sixth hole,
and by which he will probably win the game by his
hard, crib, and next hand.

If vou are dealer, and your adversary has above his
complement of points, you must play your game accord-
ingly. Thus, if you bvre good cards, try to make as
many points as possible by pairing, fifteens, &c. On the
contrary, if your cords are indifferent, you must play
ofl^ to prevent your adversary from obtaining points.

ALL-FOUBS.

This is a came at cards played by two, three, or four
persons, with a complete pack of cards. If four, there
are two parties, two in each. We shall suppose only
two individuals are playing: —

After the cards have been dealt by three at a time,
six to each, the dealer tunis up the next card aa the
trump. If your adversary be not satisfied with his
hand, he says, ' I beg.' la thii case, if you do not

iTrrmnii

OAKOIKO.

wlih to ran th' ■-' . of ohanging the tramp, yon uj,
' 1 S'^ 7<'*> ^^*'- ^>^ you allow him to icore one to-
wara* hu game. If your own hand be bad, you then
deal out three more oardi to each, and turn up another
trampi which lupenedei the former. The adrertaiy
may propoea to take the chance of dealing three more
card! to each, but thii can be refVued by the dealer,
without anv forfeiture.

The oarde are then played, the elder hand leading,
and the party takbg up the tricks which he wini. You
muit either follow luite or trump, if you can.

Ten pointi make the game, and they are produced by
kigh, which ia the highest trump dealt ; hw, or the
lowest trump dealt: jaek, or knare of trumps ; and
gatM, the number of pips on the counting cards. The
counting cards are as follows :— ace, four; king, three;
queen, two { knare, one ; and the ten, which reckons
ten. This counting applies to all suites. If the jack
be in your hand, secure it as quickly as possible; as,
for instance, do not lose an opportunity of trumping
«ith it ; for if it fall into the adversary's hand, he
reckons it to his game.

Should the card turned up be a knave, the dealer
scores or - point to his game. Knave of trumps in hand
does not reckon, unless you make a trick with it; for
if your adversary takes it with the ace, king, or queen,
he scores it.

SPECULATION.

Thii is a round game at cards, the term round mean-
ing that it can be played hy a large party round a table.
The number moat suitable is from seven to thirteen.

The principle of the game is this : A pool is formed
by the dealer putting two counters, and every other
player puttine one counter, into a dish or treasury in
the middle of the table; and this store is paid to the
person who holds the highest trump. Thus it is the
object of every person to get the highest trump, and
the effort to do so is the specidatioti.

After being duly shuffled and cut, and the dealer
determined, he deals three cards to each peison, one at
a time. These cards must be placed before each per-
son, and no one is allowed to look at them until after
the trump is turned. Having finished the deal, the
next card determines the trump; this card may be told
either before or after being seen. When this specula-
tion is concluded, by some person purchasing it with
counters, or the dealer retaining it, if he thinks proper,
the eldest hand turns his uppermost card, and if this
be a superior trump to the one turned, he may also
speculate. Each player does the same, till all the cards
have been exposed, when the pool is given to the pos-
sessor of the highest trump.

LOOt

Loo is a game played by five or six people; and a pool
is made by the dealer putting in five counters. He then
deals five cards to each person, and turns up a trump.
Whatever suite the trump mav be, the knave of clubs,
called pam, forma the chief, llioae who are diaaatisfied
with their hands can throw up their cards, and demand
freah ones from the pack.

When the ace of trumps is played, it is usual to say,
* Pam, be civil ;' the holder of pam is then expected to
let the ace pass.

When any pei«on holds a flush of trumps with pam,
this individual can sweep the pool before playing. Then
there is a new deal.

The next beat hand to the above is trumps only, and
this sweeps the pool, if there be not a pam flush; and
there is also a new deal.

The next best hand is that of a flush of other suites,
which sweeps the pool; and there is also a new deal.

When any of these flushes occur, each person, ex-
cepting those who hold inferior flushes or pam, is tooed,
and has to pay five counters into the pool.

When none of these flushes occur, and those who

When all the oardt ua played out, theT will make
but five tricks; and all the counters in tne pool are
divided between the holders of these tricks, every
other person beinc looed, and obliged to pay five
counter! to the pool for next deal,

D A N I If 0.

Dancing, as one of the most healthful and elegant
in-door amusements, cannot be too highly recommended.
Among a rude or dissolute people, it may degenerate
into something worthy of condemnation | but all the
blessings of Providence are similarly liable to abuse,
and it would be moat unjust to condemn a cheerfUl
domestic amusement, merely because it has at times
been degraded to immoral purposes. By all physi-
cians, dancing, when pursued in moderation, is recom-
mended as highly conducive to health; and it may be
truly said that, allied with music, nothing is more cal-
culated to purge the mind of melancholy, and put the
whole temper into good-humour.

Dancing is the poetry of motion. It must be per-
formed with ease and grace, and always with a peifect
regard for propriety of movement. As an art, it is
taught by professed masters; and one of the leading
rules given to the learner is to raise and lower himself
gracenilly on the elastic part of his feet — that is, the
toes ; never to leap or come down on the whole sole or
heels; also to keep exact time to the music. Dancing
is therefore a simple and elegant gliding on the toes,
these bending more or less to accommodate the steps,
and to prevent everything like harshness of motion.
The body should not be neld stifily, and the hands
ought to bans down easily by the sides.

Dancing takes the form of several distinct kinds or
series of movements, some quick and aome alow, and
aome more complex than othera. The most popular of
the old-established dances are termed

Country Dances.

This class of dances takes its name from the French
word con(r« (against), from being danced by two parties
standing in a row opposite or against each other. The
general principle is for each couple in succeaaion to go
down the middle of the rows and up again, with some
other movements, till all have danced down and into
their original places. It is a rule for the top couple to
dance down twice, thus leaving the couple that was the
second to be at the top. This finishes the dance. If the
party wish to dance another dance, the second couple,
now at the top, begins, and so on. Thus each couple in
the party has the opportunity of choosing »uy parti-
cular dance or tune they may wish. The cl-iJcq is left
to the lady. In general, a party in a countr} dance do
not remain up for more than two dances, when tho
partners are changed, and new djinces begin.

A country dance should not consist of more than
twelve or fourteen couples, as it is fatiguing to dance
with a creator number. In standing up, the lady
should always be on the gentleman's right hand, if
they turn their faces to the top of the room. This is a
aimple rule to determine on which aide the ladies and
gentlemen should respectively take their places.

The principal figurea in country dances are,

1. Handi across ; that ia, the top lady takes the
second gentleman by the right hand, and the top gen-
tleman, at the same time, takes the second lady by the
right hand, and all go a half-circle round; then all
change hands and back again.

2. Hands four round ; the two top couples join hands,
forming a circle; dance half round and back again.

3. Right and L^.—ln this the top lady gives her
right hand to her partner, changing places with him;
then her left hand to the person below her, changing
places; her partner performs a similar movement, and
both return to their places.

4. Set and change Sides. — ^'The lady takes hold of both

wished have changed their cards, the game goes on as hands of the lady below her, and sets— that is, dances
at whist, the highest card taking the trick. 1 for a short time without changing her situation ; then

671

oHAMBiBra nnoBMAnoir fob thi people.

boik IkdiM paM to ill* fmllwDMl sidt, whll* tha g«i-
llanuin pan at thair baoki to tbe ladift' lida; all agaiii
Mt, and ratarn to thtir plaoM.

6. PmuHk. — Thla ligiiifiM that tho two top oouplM
rMpootiTolj Join baodx each coupU dancbg ronnd the
other.

6. Down the Mi'' -The t jp couple m down hand
in band and retu , «tcpi<ing one couple lower than
they oomnienoed.

7. CatHng off ii the lady going down behind tbe
ladies, and tbe ^ntloman behuid the gentlemen, and
returning to their placoi.

There are EngUth, Iriih, and Scotch country dancet;
but we know or no diatinotion among them except the
tunea. All vaiy leaa or more in their flgurea. In enoh,
howarer, aa already obaerved, tbe plan ia followed of
the firtt or top couple dancing with each following
couple in lucceaaion to the bottom of tbe room; and
aa aoon aa a aufficient number of couplea are diaengaged
at top, another couple eoramencea, and io on through
the whole party. The following ia an outline of the
figurea in a few of the more popular country dancei.
It will be underatood that we alwaya refer to what each
couple doea in luccesaion : —

VtnUtz vouM Daneer, MademmuUt. — Set and change
aide*, down the middle, up again, and pouaette.

John </ Parii. — Right and left, down the middle, up
again, and pouaette.

Cuptain Fleming. — Hands across, down the middle,
up asain, and bauds four round.

The Huneymoam. — Handa three round on tbe ladies'
aide, then on tbe sentlemen'a aide, down the middle, up
again, pouaette, right and left.

The TrUtmph. — Down the middle and up again ;
then the lady down with the next gentleman ; her
partner foUowa : tbe two gentlemen now lead the lady
up between them, taking hold of her bands by one
band, and joining their other handa over her head;
pouaette.

Pelronella. — First couple more to the right into the
middle, and aet ; to the right again, and set at the
side; to the right again, and aet in tbe middle; to the
right again to places; down the middle, up again, and
pouaette.

Captr Fey. — ^Top couple go down backs and up again ;
down tbe middle and up again; set, and turn corners,
and reel on the aidea.

The Legacy. — Uanda three round on tbe ladiea' side;
then on the gentlemen's side; down the middle and up
again; set in the middle, and tuni with both bandf!.

S'vr Roaer do Coverley, or the JIaymaheri. — Top lady
and tbe bottom gentleman advance to the centre of the
dance, turn with both bands, and back to their places;
tbe first gentleman and bottom lady do the same; the
top lady and bottom gentleman again advance, turn
with the right hand, and back to places; then the top
gentleman and bottom lady do the same; top lady and
bottom gentleman advance and turn with left hand, and
back to places; the top gentleman and bottom lady do
tbe same. The top lady and bottom gentleman advance,
the gentleman bows and the lady curtsies; the top gentle-
man and bottom lady do the same. The top lady and
bottom gentleman advance, and pass back to back; top
gentleman and bottom lady do tbe same. Tbe top couple
turn, the lady to the right and tbe gentleman to tbe left;
all the ladies following tbe lady, and all tbe gentlemen
following the gentleman to the bottom of the room,
where they meet their partners and lead up tbe centre
of tbe room. The top couple then half pousette with
each couple, till they reach the bottom of tbe dance,

Scotch Rocla.
These are rapid and rather fatiguing, but not un-
graceful dances. They are danced by three, four, five,
or six persons; but rour is best, and most common.
The foursome reel is danced vet^ much according to
fiuicy; the two couples commencmg by placing theni-
aelvea opposite each other, or in a line, with the two
ladiea in the middle, back to back. In whichever way |
672

th« danot begins, ih« plan ia for Mch pwaon to pwrform
the flgura of eight by winding round tba othera, and
aatting to partnera alternately. The muaio of oourao
guidea the time for the aettbic and the moving.

Uighlandera danca reela with great agility, and are
fond of introducing tbe steps ordinarily called the
HijMand Fling, which is of the character of dancing on
eacn foot alternately, and flineing tbe other in front and
behind the leg which ia daucug.

Quadrlllos.

These are modern dances of French origin, compara-
tively tranquil in character, and verv suitable for small
domestic parties. They are danced by four couples,
or eight persons, a couple standing on each side of »
square. The lady is always on the gentleman's right.

There are "lany sets of quadrilles, the figures in each
varying from 'ho others; but in by far the greater
number of instances one set is adhered to, which is
termed Payne's first set. This set, of which we present
an outline, consists of four figures, and a finale. The
couples at top and bottom first perform a figure; then
it is performed by the others; and so ou.

La Panlalon.—Vint right and left, set and turn
partners; ladies' chain, which is poiforraed by the two
ladies giving their right hands to each other, and
changing places; then their left bands to tbe gentle-
men, and turn round ; and the same back again to
places. Now promenade (each couple holding hands
crossed) to the opposite side; then half right and left
back to places.

L'Ete. — The first lady and opposite gentleman ad-
vance and retire, dance to the right, then to the left,
croM over, lady and |;entleman changing places. Duice
to the right and Icit, cross again to their own places,
and turn their partners. 'I he second lady and first
gentleman do the same.

La Foule. — The first lady and opposite gentleman
cross over, givins their right hands; oack again, giving
their left and taen right to their partners, and set,
forming a line; promenade to opposite places. The
two who began advance and retire; advance a second
time; the Udy curtsies and the gentleman bows, and
return. Tbe two couples advance and retire; half
right and left to their original places.

La Trenise. — Ladies' chain; set and turn partners;
first couple advance and retire; advance again; the
gentleman returns, leaving tbe lady on the left of the
opposite gentleman; tbe two ladies pass or croaa to the
opposite side, changing to opposite comers, during which
the gentleman passes between them, and sets. The
ladies cross over Again, and pass to opposite comers,
while the gentleman returns to his place, and sets. The
first couple set and turn. Uuring these performances,
the gentleman at the bottom of the dance stands still.
The movement being finished, a similai; figure is per-
formed by himself and partner.

La Finale. — All eight dance or chass^ across, chang-
ing places with their partners, and set at the corners;
back again to places, and set. After this, L'Ete is
danced, concluding with cbasstf across.

This finale is danced in another way. All eight
promenade round the room to their own places. Tho
first and second couple advance and retire; advance
again, the gentlemen taking the opposite ladies, or ex-
changing partners. Ladies' chain ; advance and retire;
advance again, reclaiming partners, and promenade.
This is called the gaUopade finale.

The preceding embraces nearly all dances usually
perforated in private parties and balls of an ordinary
kind. In the hieher dass of assemblies, various foreign
dances are introduced, such as waltiea, mazourkaa, pas
aeuls, minuets, and gallopades; but of these it ia un-
necessaty to offer any description, aa they require care-
ful training under a maater. Latterly, a new dance,
called the Polka, baa been introduced ; it appeara to be
a combination of a waits and an Irish jig, and we
should think will never become popular, however
faahbuable it ma^r be conaidered.

ARCHEOLOGY.

then

Thb t«rm Archaohgy, though luffieiently definite
and compreheniive in iti original moaning, wm con-
fined, until a comparativelv recent period, to the itudy
of Greek and Hoinan art. i'he word, howerer, literally
tignifief the deMription of ancient things, and it hat
now been uniTenally adopted in it* largeet lenie to
give name to the wlence which deducei niitory from
the relics of the past.

The recent adoption of this term to characterise the
pursuits of the antiauary marks a new er» in the study
of antiauities, in wbich it has been reduced to au in-
telligible and comprehensive system based on philoso-
phic induction. By this it has been at the same time
elevated to its proper rank as a science, and rendered
generally acceptable as a popular branch of study.
Archaeology, however, is no newl^-discovered science. It
has its origin in the natural cravings of the human mind
to master the secrets of the mysterious past, no less
than of the mysterious future : it forms an essential
branch of the historian's studies : it enters largely
into tho inquiries of the ethnologist, or investigator of
the various races of the human family; and into those
of the philologist, or analyser of their numerous lan-
guages. We accordingly find evident traces of an
archsBolo^^cal spirit in the literature of every civilised
nation; and generally it exhibits the strongest symp-
toms of devefopment during periods most marked by
rapid progress in the arts of civilisation. It manifested
itself at the revival of letters in the sixteenth century,
by a return to classic models. Its present tendency
throughout Europe seems to be, if not to a total aban-
donment of these models, at least to a preference for
medimval art, and a desire to carry out its ideas to a
more perfect development.

The history of archasology bears a very near resem-
blance to that of its elder sister-science, geology, to
which, indeed, it has in many respects a close analogy.
They are like two successive series of links in the same
chain of reasoning, the earliest data of the archwolosist
being found exactly where those of the geologist end —
in th« debateable land of the later alluvial formations.
An intelligent geologist, in describing a recent visit to
the Newcastle Museum, thus clearly recognises the
labours of the archaeologist as applying to the human
era the same inductive speculations which his own
science treats of in relation to a still earlier state of
things: — * As I passed in the geolwical apartment from
th^ older Silurian to the newer 'Vwctwy, and then on
from the newer Tertiary to the votive tablets, sacrificial
altars, and sepulchral memorials of the Anglo-Roman
pUery, I could not help regarding them as all belong-
ing to- one department. The antiquities piece on in
natural set^uenoe to the geology; and it seems but
rational to indulge in the same sort of reasonings re-
garding them. They are the fossils of an extinct order
of things newer than the Tertiary: of an extinct race —
of an extinct religion — of a state of society and a class
of enterprises which the world saw once, but which it
will never see again. And with but little assistance
from the direct testimony of history, uue has to grope
one's way along this comparativel;|r modem formation,
guided chiefly, as in the more ancient deposits, by the
clue of circumstantial evidence.'

Such ia the rank among the inductive sciences which
is at length being justly conceded to the pursuits of
the archsBologist. Like the ^logist, he deals with re-
cords of a period prior to written annals, and traces out
the history of ages heretofore believed to be irrecover-
able. He deals, it is true, with a recent period, when
contrasted with geological eras: but from this he de-
rives the strongest claim to general interest in his pur-
suit*. Intelligent thinkers are shaking theouelres free
No. 93.

fVom the narrow views which induced them to investi^
gate with untiring seal the natural history of a mam-
moth or a plesiosaurus, and yet allowed them to despise
the equally accessible evidence from whence we may
recover the history of our own race. While, howeveri
the rude burial mounds, or tho chance revelations of
the later alluvial deposits, disclose to us traces of un-
civilised tribes to whom we must assign a very remote
date, the speculations of the arehnologist, as well aa
the earliest investigations of the historian, into tha
records of nations, find their first unquestionable dat*
among the monuments of Egyptian civilisation.

KOTFTUN ANTiqUITim.

The ancient monuments of Egypt arrest attention
and impress the mind no less by their intrinsic excel-
lence as the creations of human genius, than by the
remote antiquity with which they are associated. Wo
dwell with interest ou British monuments of the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries, and look beyond that date as
into a remote and comparatively unknown era, the
memorials of which are mostly crumbled into dust.
But on turning tu the pyramids, temples, and tombs of
Egypt, we look upon the monuments of a people whose
civilisation is anterior to the eldest-written records, and
whose edifices preserve to us memorials contemporary
with the patriarchal age, when the fathers of the He-
brew monarchy dwelt in tents, or groaned under the
hard bondage of Egyptian taskmasters.

It may naturally excite surprise that the remotesk
evidences of civilisation should be discovered on the
African continent. All writers, however, who have in-
vestigated the subject, agree in assigning an Asiatic
origin to the ancient Egyptians. Their features, their
language, and many of their peculiarities, clearly point
to this. Tho formation of the skulls of mummies found
in the catacombs no less distinctly exhibit the charac-
teristics of the Caucasian variety, which so remarkably
contrasts with all the cranial developments of the true
African race. We are left to conjecture in assigning
that remote period during the infancy of nations, when
the first Asiatic colony settled on the banks of the
Nile. It suffices, however, for our present purpose to
know that, from the ascertained dates oi its early
history, there can be no doubt Egypt was one of the
first countries brought under a fixed social and political
system, and where an associated community success-
fully pursued the arts of civilisation.

The date assigned as the epoch of Menes, or Men,
the earliest Egyptian ruler of whom any trustworthy
notice has descended to modem times, is about 2000
years d.c. ; an era nearly corresponding with the time
fixed by Biblical chronologists for the foundation of
the kingdom of Assyria by Nimrod, and with the com«
mcnly-received commencement of the historic chrono-
logy of the Chinese empire. With the solitary excep-
tion of the very slfght notices recorded in the first
eleven chapters of the book of Genesis, all attempts to
retrace the records of our race beyond this period have
hitherto been based on mere conjecture, unsupported
by evidence, although, according to the received chrono-
logy of Biblical critics, a period of fully 2000 yean in-
tervenes between the era of Menes, the founder of the
Egyptian monarchy, and the origin of the human race.
Between these two important dates, however, we learn
from the Sacred Writings of the destruction of the
ancient world by the Deluge, and the recommencement
of the human race from one family, according to the
accepted chronoloey, 2348 years b.c.; and about a cen-
tury later, of the dispersion of the builders of Babel on
the plain of Shinar, and the subdivision of the human
famuy into distinct and rival communities. Within

673

OHAlfllMlMW HfOUULIIOir lOB TBI PBIOPLE

1«M tiuu two oMitariM Md ft-luUf kfttr tUa UMot
•T«nt til* hliitonr of Ecrpt oommtnoM, m koommunlty
poMciMd of polftio*] inititutloni Mid loaial tttU.

The rtmrffhti of modem wolueologiitt hrnf doM
much to ttf the •arly history of Kgypt from the fablei
»nd incoDiUtent trftdUioni derived chiclty (Vom the
n»mktioDi of the prieite, and preierTed in the writinn
of Herodotui) Muietho, and others. Theee placed the
era of Menee tereral thouiand yean farther back, and
Aimiehed a Hit of Interrcniug hlnfii and dvnaitiei
whoee hiitory bean the uiual luythio charaoteriitici of
the traditloni of infant natiuui. Modem retearoh hae
corrected rather than reiected theie hiitorle traditione.
It ii now thought probable that luToral, if not the
whole, of Manetho't dynantiei, which eeenied to cire
countenance to the nmote era ai'iKned by the prietti
to the reign of Menee, wore not iuccuuive, but oontem-
poraneoui, the Valley of the Nile baring then been
dirided into varioui indcnendent kingdome. By the
laboun of ChainpoUion, Williinaon, and other modem
itudenti of Egyptian archnology, aided by recent for-
tunate diicorerief, hereafter refemd to, lomething like
a latiifkotory chronological lerici of the kinge of EgTPt
ftom the time of Menee hae been made out. The
■tudy, howerer, ii still in its infancy. It dates its
oommenceroent within the pnsent century; and itH
progress has not been accelerated by the excessire seal
of M. ChampoUion, the professor of Egrptian anti-
quities in the College of France, who, either fh>m a
too sanguine fancy, or from eren less creditable causes,
announced the discorery of mon than any one else has
been able to substantiate from the data ou which his
disclosures arc founded. (8ee No. A5,)

The characteristics of the great Valley of the Nile at
once account for its early occupation by the human
race, and its becoming the seat of one of the tint
kingdoms which grew out nf the natural tendency of
man towards social union. The Valley of the Nile in-
cludes, along with the Delta, an area of about 17,UU0
square miles of cultiTable land. The climate during
the greater part of the year is salubrious. The annual
orerflowing of the Nile reduces agricultural operations
to little more than the sowing of the seed in spring,
and the reaping of the abundant harrest which it yields
in an early autumn. While the countnr is so isolated
as to be protected by natural barriers from the ready
encroachments of hostile armies, it is most adran-
tageouily situated for commercial intercourse with
other nations. Hence it is that, after reneated con-
quests, and under the most tyrannical and oppressiTc
forms of government, Egypt has never become extinct
like the great empires of Asia. With some slight
amelioration of the suicidal ezactioni of despotic
mien, it has again aw] igain given evidence of re-
newed vitality; and ho' l:)g as it does the real key to
the commerce of the East, the indirect and partial
command of which was the source of all the greatness
of Venice and the Italian republics of the fourteenth
century, it can hardly be doubted that Egypt only
needs the advantages of social civilisation and f^ee
institutions, to resume her ancient place among the
empires of the world.

Fynimkb.

The Pyramids of Egy;. ., whiv h harft attracted the
curious traveller for ages, nre 9.h%dy so familiar by
numerous descriptions and viev.^', that it is hardly
necessary, in an epitome like tl Ik, to do more thar
name them, and refer to their ^.^i^ * o proportions.
The two largest of the pyramids <>v J'uiyi ;'» t- < most
stupendous masses of building thn* luma" • . i uu" has
ever accomplished. AccoMing t" .le i'.fLT;T>:»tion com-
municated to Herodotus by tic \m\iit:'^ ':'( Memphis,
the largest of these was built by C^ sops, v 'lOin Wilkin-
son conceives to have been the 8uphis of Manetho.
Like too many of the evidences of human power and
■kill, the Oreat Pyramid remains a monument of
tyranny and oppression: 100,000 men were employed
during twenty yean in its conatmction; and the great
fl74

historian wm inlbrmid that lt« flMwdor WM intemd In
a Tault beneath the bottom of the pyramid. Home in-
tollif ibio idoa of this vast straeture will be oonreyed
by (Utcrlbing Its base as oooupyii>>; an ana almost
exactly oornsponding to that of Lvnooln's-Inn Fields,
London, measured to the houses and to the wall of
Lincoln's- Inn (larden, while its summit towen to an
altitude of 1 10 Act above the Crosi of 8t Paul's. * The
oldest monuments of Egypt,' says Wilkuison, ' and
probably of the world, are the pTraniidi to the north
of Memphis; but the absence ol hieroglypUos and of
•very trace of sculptun, preoludst tho possibility of
ascertaining the exact period of their erection, or the
namea of tneir feundon. From all that can be col-
lected on this head, it appean that Suphis and his
brother Hensuphis erected them about the year 2121)
n,c.' The prvbable uses for which theee rast struotum
wero designed have been the subject of much discus-
sion, and npeatcd attempts have been made to provo
their construction for astronomical purposes. The fact,
however, of their being found only to contain sarco-
phagi and their mouldering contents, with the collec-
tion alongside of the largest pyramids, of many of
small dimensions, and the whole grouping along with
catacombs, notoriously constructed at places of sepul-
tun, seem to point them out at the tombs of royal
founders. This is still further confirmed bv the great
care with which the passages to the sepulchral cham-
ben have invariably been found closed up and con-
cealed, so that even now the majority of them appear
never to have been entered. (See vignette to No. ftfi.)
There are numerous pyramids of various sixes t,
Nubia. The Temple of fielus (the Din Nimroud ot
the Arabs) and the Mujelibd at Babylon, were loth
pyramidal buildings of large dimensions, chiefly con-
structed of brick, and of wliich there are still very
extensive remains. India, in like manner, furaishes
examples of pyramidal buildings still standing in the
neighbourhood of Benares. But next to the Onat
Pyramid of Juoh, those of Mexico are most calculated
to excite attention. Like those of Babylon, the Mexi-
can pyramidi i o chiefly constructed of bricks. The
Great Pyranui of Cholula in iklexioo ooyen an area
more thun M.iee timet the base of the Onat Pyramid
of Jizeh ; but it ii built in the usual form of the Mexi-
can pyi'iunids, consisting of four receding platforms,
each of which is subdiyided into a number of small
stepn, and the top is left as a large open platform, so
that the height of the whole is small when compared
with the base. These were designed by the ancient
Mexicans as pedestals for the statues of their gode.
When Cortex flrst beheld them, a colossal stone statue
occupied the summit of each, covered with plates of
gold ; but the Spaniards stripped them of their costly
coverings, and broke them in pieces. Since then, the
lofty terrace of the Great Pyramid of Cholula has been
chosen as the site of a church, dedicated to the Lady
do los Remedios, in which mass is daily - ' i brnt.rrl by
a priest of the Indian race, whose ance<.>>(a pv,;-:tiao(l
there the rite, if their idolatrous won!*'., mxl vvi
flced human yictims on the altan of th-.n' godii

Architootore.
Previous to the present century, the Pyramids almost
invariably attracted the greatest share of attention
from ^hose who treated of E^rptiau antiquities. The
vast and imposinjg masses of arohitectura which still
remain the cMet monuments of Egyptian art, can
hfjxlly be t'aid to have receiyed any notice deserving
tlio name of study till the close of last century, when a
cjuquering invader from the ' far west' led the Gothic
I - :f» of Europe for the fint time to the possession of
tie ancient cradle-land of civilisation, and incited
them to victory by the traditional famo of twenty cen-
turies. Since the Fnnoh inyation, some of the ablest
scholan of Europe have devotod themselyoe aaiiduously
to the study of Egyptian antiquities; and architects
haye striven to reduce the style of itf ancient buiiden
to » ayttem. By luoh meuiy the geuiu of (hia won-

ARrHJEOIOOT.

4«rAil pMpI* bM enlj bMon* mon ftilly •ppM«nt.
LltlU niort h«d btm prtrlontljr known of Eff^ptUn
»Khll«otur% •loml wkftt ooald m iMrnctl IV«irt ■ ^per-
fwt idM* oftb* dlnimiloM of th« PyrMniili, iwa ■•■m«
gtntnl notion of the anormouf inMMt kml c<ili<s...ii
mndf f tb« templM and roonolithio iii'>' umfnta.
Th«]r < ; gcnenlljr ntoeniwl lolely m thi' U i-
draoN of bMrb*ric pomp and powtr. Mnr.
■tudy )>w not dlnilniihad the wondw with which wo
regard the giguitio edifloei of Thebee or Dciulcnvh, and
the TMtneM and loUdity of their material! an'i xle
of oonitruction, which teem to bid defiance to time.
But in addition to tbeie, Kflfptian architecture ii now
known to be oharaoterlMd by great eleK»nce in the
combinationi of iti fornit; and while in iti general
featurei it betrayi the probable iUKgeetire iource of
the Doric teniplee of Greece, it eriuaUy claimi com-
pariion with the (lothlc itylei of medinral Rurope, in
the endlem var ty ( f iti detaili, and in what mar be
■tvled i^" "vn< luatio lawleMneM of iti proportioni.
The ' ^a In '.' f luk and Roman architecture are re-
d't^ib ' *. ' M'. lid relatire proportioni, and their
I viei arliiU if oriationi only by the changing eom-
tiiriatinrii of a fo .- Axed elementi. The architeeti of
''.:■ "p ihe Qontrary, like thoie of Oothio Europe,

ereateu > ityle wherein powerful and legitimate arcni-
tectdrai efa <cti were produced, without iti beins noi-
lible to rrduce their plaitic elementi to any kind of
tyitem bai"<d on the formi or proportioni of any clan
of f uatii reii. [For iUuitrationi of Egyptian Architecture,
xee No. 2a, Vol. I.]

One or two attenipti hare been made to introduce
the Egyptian ityle uf architecture into thii countrr,
but tkoy bare rciulted, ai wai to be anticipated, in
utter failurei. The rait templei of the Pharaohi,
conitructed for the wonhip of ancient Egypt, and
adapted to the climate and local peculiaritiei of the
country of their birth, become ridlculoui caricaturei
when reproduced in brick and plaiter in the buiy
thoroughfare! of London. The introduction, more-
orer, of large windowi, leparate floori, and ev«n ihop
fronti, with tho attendant rcouiiitei of modem lociu
habiti, make lad haroc with the principle! of genuine
Egyptian architecture, ao that any one who derive! hii
ideal of it from the Egyptian Hall, jammed into the
row of brick tenement! and imoky chimneyi of Pica-
dilly, will arrire at very uniatiifactory concluiioni.
The ityle haa been rerired with better luccen in the
catacombi of lome of our great public cemeteiiei. But
after all, iti true use and ralue is ai the record of a
race, a faith, and a state of religion, extinct beyond
the ponibility of reriral agei ago. The moit enthu-
liaitic antiquarr can look with little latiifaction on
the imperfect adaptation of the obsolete lymboli of a
forgotten creed to give exprwwion to the aublime anti-
cipations of the Christian faith.

HloroKlyphlof.

Fiy 1' r the most interest ng branch of Egyptian anti-
quities is the hieroglyphics, which a chance discoTerr
of modern timet has done more to elucidate than all
the unaided labours of the archcDologist could erer
hare effected. From the earliest times, these myste-
rious symbols hare excited an interest fully equal to
their riJue ai historic records. The Greeks and Ro-
mans, partly from n tttinnal pride, but still more per-
haps firom a want ot tkax ph-ilnlogical talent peculiar
to modem times, apvear to uare paid little attention
to the languages of the barharumn with whom they
were brought in contact They made up, howerer,
for their ignonufcoe of Egyptian reconts by the most
oomprehensire aMWiiioMs, oi. ' he %ith of which it has
been beUered, almost to our own >)ay, that Egypt was
the parent of oil the arts and science! , that the hiero-
glypnio inscriptions on the public monuiueiita contain
a summary of^the most important mysterHii >>f nature,
and the rudiments of all the knowledge we derire from
classic literature. The interpretation of the hierogly-
phiea fonned, it waa beliered, one of the most looed

hieroglyphio
II. and III.,

mysteriei of the prteithood, wMeh WM eltker par-
posely concealed, or bad alrMdv been loel, when Ike
Ilnmans establiihed themitWee in Egypt. 8lnee then,
though ponderoui folioe hod been written on the lub-
i^Tf, some of them professing to explain the whole
in itrry, nothing wai reallr known of hieroglyphio
writiiif; ii 'b< mraiion of Kgypt by Napoleon— if we
except tbw rx,^ , inntton of the TViM, or handled oroM,
(h« «ymbol ot' lit he traditional interpretation of
whii-h til Strang)!, wrrired the obllrion <.f n" else.

In ngfiv-n the i 'indations of F<>rt 8t Ju .near
Rosetta, at one of' n mouths of the Nile, the 'rench
discorertfd an inscribc-a M'x'k of blaclr basalt, w' h,
along with the other anti'^.i >• |*<^nred by the >, \j
of Napoleon in Kgypt, was Li u/^ht home to Englui
and is now fam'' 'vrly knowri ax the Rosetta nton
This raluable rei hich forr one of th? most in-
teresting features the %>| ian collroti'n in the
Hritlsh Museum, c 'ains an inscription in three
distinct charactert- flitmglyphie, or sacred ; the
JPncAoHa/, or common yptian; and the ^VffAr. From
the terms of the latti , it l)ecame immediately appa-
rent that the three inscriptions were versions of the
same decree, in the soreral '-harort'M and this wee
further confirmed by obeervi ■ that
inscription emled with the ii leral^ I.
where the Greek has ' Tho li .i and the second .
the remainder being broken away. A key seemed to
be at length found to the lor i;-) Idden mysteries of
Egyptian nieroelrphies, whirh had nocked tho ourioui
gaze of ages with the rain offer mrerealed secrets.
An accurate fac-simile of t^ tin inioriptioni woe
engrared, and extensirely dBula< t by the Society
of Antiquaries. The Greek text i« <^s translated and
discussed by Person and Heme, tl • most eminent
among the Greek scholars of ermai " and England.
But there explanation paused; and seemed as if,
after all the high anticipations excit \ by this dis-
coreiy, it was to proro altogether fraitl< <. The causes
of this are easily explained. ITnforti ^tely, a con-
siderable part of the hieroglyphic ii ription woe
entirely wanting. The beginning of the loborial and
the conclusion of the Greek inscription! were in like
manner defaced; so that precise points ot coincidence
were wanting from whence to set nut in teciphering
the unknown by the known characters. )r Thomaa
Young was the first to master any of tli unknown
hieroglyphies. With great sagacity, he no cd the re-
currence of certain words, such aa Alexander. Ptolemy,
&c.; and in corresponding parts both of the enchorial
and hieroglyphio inscriptions, he soon detect ■-<i corre-
sponding groups of characters, and establi-hed the
important fact, that these proper names ar-- distin-
guished by the enclosing oral or royal cartonche, of
such frequent occurrence on all Egyptian monuments.
This discorory, howerer, sufficea to prove that the
Greek is not a literal translation of
the En'ptian. The names do not in-
variably recur in corresponding places
of tho sereral inscriptions, Bynonrmcs
or pronouns being substituted for them :
so that the Greek cannot be assumed
as expressing more than the general
meaning of the other inscriptions. Thii
of course greatly detracts from the as-
sumed rolue of tl e Rosetta Stone as a
kev to the hienwl^-phica; and though
it has now been fimj liar to the scholars
of Europe for neatly half a century,
a complete translation of its lymboIi
still remains a desideratum. As an
example of hieroglyphic writing, there
is here giren a representation of an
inscription from the obelisk of Philss.
The symbols enclosed within the ellip-
tical ring or cartouche signify the word
' Cleopatra' — there being a phonetic character corre-
sponding to every letter in the Greek name, together
with the lymboIi (a tmall lemieiicle and oral) of the'

675

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOFLE.

fcmuilne termination. Thus, baginnin^ at the top, and
reading from right to left, we have nine signs reapeo-
tlTely agreeing with the nine letters K-L-K-O-P-A-
T-R-A — the small oral and semicircle on each side of
the last bird, or A, marking the feminine termination.
By means of the Rosetta Stone, Dr Young was led
to another important discovery, from which it appears
that the sacred symbols were used not only as the
representatives of things, but also of sounds; so that,
by a combination of them as alphabetic characters,
such new names as those of the Greek and Homau
conquerors are inscribed on Egyptian monuments with
the like symbolic writing as those of the ancient
Pharaohs. Already history and chronology have re-
ceived valuable additionj from observations based on
these discoveries; tho royal cartouches have been iden-
tified on nearly all the moat important £j;yptian monu-
ments; a-H historic traditions, which h wen rejected
as unwortuy of r lit, have received ui ipected con-
firmation. The b-iue eminent English tcholar above
referred to succeeded in deciphering upwards of 200
hieroglyphic symbols; and from the double meaning
which these frequently bear, both as symbols and pho-
netic characters, we discover one important reason for
the rude and imperfect mode of picture writing being
retained by a people far advanced in civilisation, and
possessed of a written language in ordinary use. An-
other, though secondary reason, for this has been over-
looked; namely, the value of hieroglyphics as archi-
tectural embellishments. That they were frequently
used for this sole purpose, is apparent from the intro-
duction of a series of royal cartouches as features of
decoration, as on the pillars at Luxor ; nor can any
one look on a drawing of one of the great tem^.'es, or
even of an obelisk or sarcophagus, without being satis-
fied that the hieroglyphics form an essential and im-
portant feature of decoration, independent of their
value as symbolic or phonetic characters. To the list
of hieroglyphics deciphered by Dr Young, M. Cham-
pollion and others made considerable additions ; and
80 much confidence is now felt in these interpretations,
that during the present year (1849) a movable font
of hieroglyphics has been cut in Paris, by means of
which the inscriptions of ancient Egypt may be multi-
plied, and generally distributed, with the same facility
as a common handbill. This is certainly not the least
wonderful of the results of modem intelligence and
inventive skill ; and whether or not the treasure prove
equal to the long-cherished expectations regarding it,
it can hardly be doubted that thei<c Egyptian myste-
ries will not much longer remain concealed.

In treating of hieroglyphics, those which were in use
by the Aztecs, and are still visible on the ancient mo-
numents of Mexico, must not bo altogether overlooked.
They are much ruder than those of Egypt, and only
resemble them in the element of picture writing
common to both, unless it be added that the Aztecs
appear to have made a similar use of the cartouche.
This rude substitute for writing appears to have been
the only one known to the natives of America. An
illustration of the mode of using it in extraordinary
cases is given in the account preserved of the Indian
scouts, who informed their master Montezuma of the
arrival of Cortez and his followers, by sketches of the
Spaniards, their ships, horses, firearms, &c.

It is probable that, even should the Egyptian hiero-
glyphics be thoroughly mastered, the amount of know-
ledge derived from the inscriptions on the temples and
tombs will fall far short of what tho patier t sagacity
of modem archaeologists has already deduced from the
paintings and sculptures, and from the actual relics
discovered in the catacombs. No features of national
maimers are found by the arcbrcologist so well worthy
of study as the modes of sepulture, and the relics fre-
quently deposited in the tomb along with the deceased.
Among such the catacombs of Egypt occupy a promi-
nent rank. Uy means of the sepulchral rites of the
people, a clue mav frequently be obtained to the nature
uf their religious belief; and this is peculiarly the case
676

with the Egyptians. Thq human soul wai regarded by
them as a direct emanation irom the Deity, woo himself
..:iimated all nature u the, soul of the universe: and
tiieir dead, therefore, invariably bore some of the
emblems, and were bound up so as to resemble the
form, of Osirii, the judge of the dead, and the ruler
over the world . of spirits. It was only those, however,
who, by a virtuous life, were fitted for the change, that
were immediately after death reunited to their divine
source. One of Che most frequent subjects of Egyptian
painting represents the final jud^ent of the soul in
the presence of Osiris. The actions of the deceased
are weighed in the scales of truth. The god Thoth
stands as the recording angel noting the nsult; and if
it proves imperfect, the soul is condemned to return to
earth, according to the Eg^tian doctrine of transmigra-
tion, in the form of some unclean animal — most fre- '
quently tha', of a pig — and must endure a purgatorial
penance of tedious duration ere it can retum to the
human form, and again appear before the dread tribunal
of Osiris. In addition to this trausmigratory doctrine;
the Egyptian creed included the idea of a great cycle, at
the end of which all things were to retum to their former
state. It is supposed by some writers that the prac-
tice of embalming originated in the desire of preserv-
ing the body in a fit condition to receive the soul on its
retum to inhabit its former dwelling. This, however,
is extremely doubtful. Such an idea may have added
strength to the popular inclinations when it became
ingrafted on to their creed; but it is unquestionable
that the same practice continued long after all belief
in the ancient mythology of Egypt had ceased; and it
is much more probable that it hod its origin, like tlie
sepulchral rites of all other nations, in the natural
feelings of affection and respect for the dead,

ASSYRIAN ANTIQUITIES. '

Quitting the antiquities of Egypt, which have at-
tracted the attention of intelligent inquirers from tho
days of Herodotus to our own, we turn to the magnificent
monuments of Assyrian art. These, though probably
contemporaneous with the sculptures of Thebes and
Memphis, have been explored almost for the first time
by the indefatigable traveller Austin Henry Layard,
who has already hod the satisfaction of seeing the first
fruits of his labours deposited in the British Museum,
before returning to the scene of his singularly interest-
ing excavations on the banks of the Tigris. Within
the vast mounds to which a faithful tradition has at-
tached the name of Nimrod the mighty Hunter, our
indefatigable countryman has discovered monuments
of ancient art and imperial magnificence which amply
justify the title that hr^ for ages associated it with one
of the earliest settlements of the human race. Though
completely distinct in character and style from the
monuments of Egypt, these relics of old Assyrian art
still present such alfinities to them as might be anti-
cipated from the productions of contemporaneous races
and c^ Js somewhat similarly situated as to climetc
and locality. Like the ibis and hawk-headed deities of
Egypt, the Assyrian marbles present frequent repeti-
tions of the eagle or vulture-headed god — a human
form conjoined with the head of a bird of prey. Among
the sculptures of both countries the sphinx occurs. Not
greatly dissimilar in character, and akin to it, are those
most remarkable monuments of Assyrian arts and my-
thology — the colossal human-headed lions and bulls —
which the wild Arab sheik, who witnessed their exhu-
iiiution, pronounced to be ' the idols which Noah cursed
before the Flood!' On the discovery of the winged
human-headed lions (see fig.), Mr Layord was filled with
admiration and delight. ' These magnificent specimens
of Assyrian art,' he remarks, ' were in perfect pre-
servation; the most minute lines in the details of the
wings and in the ornaments had been retained with
their original freshness. I used,' adds the enthusiastic
traveller, 'to contemplate for hours these mysterious
emblems, and muse over their intent and history.
VVhat more uoble forms could have ushered tho people

AHOHJlOtOGY.

into tlie tempUsof their godst What more luMitne
images could have been borrowed from nature by men
who lousht, unaided by the light of rerealed religion,
to embody their conception of the wisdom, power, and

ubiquity of a Supreme Being) They could find no
better type of intellect and knowledge than the head
of the man ; of strength than the body of the lion ; of
ubiquity than tho wings of the bird. These winged
human -headed lions were not idle creations, the off-
spring of mere fancy; their meaning was written upon
them. They had awed and instructed races which
flourished three thousand years ngo ! '

It may suffice to add, that these wonderful monu-
ments of Eastern art are generally covered with in-
scriptions in the cuneiform or arrow-headed character,
which now furnish a no less interesting subject of
learned investigation than the hieroglyphics of the
Egyptian monuments, and give promise of no less valu-
able disclosures. To facilitate this, these primitive
Assyrian characters have been reproduced by the skill
of English workmen in a complete font of movable
types, so that copies of all such cuneiform inscriptions
as may be discovered can now be multiplied and dis-
tributed to any extent.

Many of the Assyrian monuments referred to consist
of slabs sculptured in low relief, and still bearing traces
of the bright colours with which they were originally
decorated. They recall in a striking manner the allu-
sion to the images of the Chaldeans by the prophet
Ei.ekiel, written not many years before the gorgeous
temples of Assyria were buried in the desolate heaps
on the bonks of the Tigris; from whence, after the

lapse of so many
centuries, they have
been exhumed by a
wanderer from the
remote and unknown
Uritish Isles. The
Hebrew prophet, re-
ferring to the sins
of Jerusalem, says,
* She doted upon the
Assyrians . . . ; for
,~ajj, when she saw men
^^^^'^^ portrayed upon the
wall, the iraageb of
the Chaldeans por-
trayed with vermi-
lion ; girded with
girdles upon their
loins, exceeding in
dyed attire upon
tiieir heads; all of
them princes to look
to, after the manner of the Babylonians of Chaldea, the
land of their nativity : she doled on them,' &c. Though
the character of these early monuments of Assyrian art
is entirely distinct from those of Egypt, Mr Layard's in-
teresting excavations have brought to light curious evi-
dences of the intercourse between Egypt and Assyria;
and farther inrestigatious cau hardly fail to throw ad-

ditional light on this new chapter in the history of
early nations.

ANTIQUITIES OF IIINDOOSTAN.

The oave temples of Elephanta and Ellora, and the
numerous ruined temples scattered throughout the
Indian empire, form another most interesting branch
of monumental remains connected with one of the
early races of the human family. Certain general
resemblances are traceable among all these relics of
Eastern art and ancient mythology. Much undue
weight, however, has frequently been attached to this,
as though it pointed to some intimate intercourse or
great similarity in faith and manners among those
widely-separated races. The worship of the cow, both
in ancient Egypt and in India, has frequently been
referred to as conclusive evidence of an intimate con-
nection between the religions of these two countries.
During the war in Egypt some sepoys of our Indian
army, who crossed from the lied Sea to the Nile, were
attracted, on their visit to the temple of Dendera, by
the sculptured representation of the cow of Athor, and
immediately prostrated themselves before it. This has
been regarded by several writers as triumphantly prov-
ing the kindred character and common source of the two
creeds; but the argument will not stand close investiga-
tion. Had the Indian sepcys been arrested by some
of the arbitrary and unintelligible symbols of Egyptian
hieroglyphics, which possessed to them a sacred mean-
ing, some importance might justly be attached to it;
but the selection of the cow by two agricultural nations
as a sacred symbol, may admit of very easy explana-
tion without supposing them to have had any previous
intercourse. Mr James Fergusson, the most recent in-
vestigator of the antiquities of Hindoostan, after per-
sonally examining the architectural remains of Egypt
and India, denies that they have any essential features
in common ; and all the latest inquiries into the
subject of Indian antiquities seem to lead to the con-
clusion, that the ideas which have been so generally
received of the immutability of the Hindus, and the
primeval antiquity of their remains, have been ba8e4
on theories unsupported by evidence. Already the
colossal elephant which gave name to Elephanta has
progressed so rapidly to decay, as to excite just doubts
of its great antiquity at the time of its discovery;
and if the general diffusion of the religion of Buddah
in India is correctly fixed at a period little more
than 150 years d.c, it is obvious that the remains
of temples dedicated to that religion must no longer
be classed along with those of Egypt. Mr Fergusson
assigns them a far more recent date than even this
might imply. He has carefully studied them, and
made drawings of their various details ; and in his
* Picturesque Illustrations of Ancient Architecture in
Hindoostan,' he advances the opinion that the most
ancient of the cave temples are not many centuries
old. India, however, has undoubtedly formed an
early seat of civilisation ; traces of which are apparent
both in the faith and the manners of the more ancient
races that still occupy the country, though these are
much too slight to justify many of the arguments that
have been deduced from them. Impressed, indeed, as
all European thinkers are, with the influence of reli-
gious opinions which have been slowly developing their
powers during many centuries, they are too ready to
take for granted the same slow development in judg-
ing of Eastern creeds. Recent investigations prove, on
the contrary, that the religion of the Sikhs, and those
of many other Indian sects, have sprung up and been
adopted by whole races almost in our own tune.

TUE CGLT£.

The whole investigations of the archseologist into the
remains of the ancient occupants of Europe, tend to
confirm the idea derived from the sacred records, that
we must look to the East as tho cradle of the human
race. The Celtic, the Sclavoniau, and the Teutonic
races, whose desceudants, distinct or intermingled, novr

677

OHAMBEBS'S iNfOBIUnON FOB TBB FEOPUL

people neuly the whole of Europe; and eren the Zin-
gall, or wandering gipsioSi who are icattered without
being incorporated amon^ them, are but successive
waves of the same great tide of population which has
gradually flowed onward towards the north-west, until,
uke a pent-up flood, it hae at length overflowed its
ancient barriers, and is peopling the new world of
America with these same descendants of the early no-
made tribes of Asia.

It is in tracing out the annals of these aboriginal
raoes that the labours of the archaeologist are chiefly
productive of valuable results, deciphering what may
Im termed the unwritten history of man, and bringing
to light the lost records of our earliest ancestry. The
investigations of the archaeologist carry us back at
onoe to a period of which history takes no note, placing
before us clear and intelligible records of the character
and habits, and of the amount of civilisation of the
aboriginal tribes of Europe and the British Isles, many
centuries before the Romans carried the arts of peace
in the train of their conquering legions.

Intelligent chronologists have thought themselves
mccessful in tracing the passage of the Celtsj towards
the western parts of the old world 2100 years before
Christ; and Higgins, an able archaeologist, in treating
of the Celtic Druids, has brought forward evidence,
founded on their astronomical knowledge, to prove
their colonisation of Britain about 1600 years before
the Christian era. This curious calculation is based on
the knowledge we possess of the religious festivals of
the Druids, the dates of which were affected by that
■low movement of the seasons through the signs of the
zodiac caused by the precession of the equinoxes. The
direct archaeological evidence which may be brought
to bear on the subject, confirms such speculations by
proving the existence of a native population in Britain
at a very earlr period.

Such speculations are possessed of peculiar interest
and value. If the dates of this remote chronology can
be established, they enable us to connect the infant
history of our own country with the great historic
nations of antiquity, and lead us to this striking chro-
nological coincidence, that just about the time when
the patriarch Jacob journeyed into Egypt to behold
his long-lost son, the nomadic Celts were crossing the
English Channel, and peopling the savage coasts of
the British Isles. It gives new life to our ancient
annals, long buried in fable and error. We behold in
idea the British Druids raising their ponderous altars
and temples amid our northern forests, while the priusts
of Isis were consecrating on the banks of the Nile the
giant monuments of ancient Thebes, and while the
great Jewish lawgiver was setting up the pillars of the
twelve tribes in the wilderness of Sinai.

The evidence from whence we trace the records of
the Eastern wanderers who first disputed with the wolf
and the wild boar of the primeval forest their right to
the uncultivated soil of our insular home, while it con-
firms such curious speculations, also satisfies us that
these rude aboriginal tribes were almost destitute of
any rudiments of the arts of civilisation. In Denmark,
in Ireland, and in the north of Scotland, the evidences
of this primeval race abound to a degree unknown in
other parts of Europe, where the wave of Roman inva-
sion has obliterated many of the traces of aboriginal
occupants. But it is in number and variety chiefly,
and not in any peculiarity of characteristics, that the
Celtic antiquities of these countries are distinguished
from those of the rest of Europe. The similarity,
indeed, which is discoverable in the Celtic remains not
of Europe only, but of Am'", place the fact beyond
doubt, that in treating of the British aborigines, we are
referring to the same races whose relics can still be
traced nn the vast plains of Central Asia.

Within the last few years tumuli hzTi- ueen fre-
quently opened in th: -neighbourhood of the Black Sea,
resembling in every respect those of the earliest and
rudest character which are found on the downs of
Wiltshire, or scattered over the Orkney Islands, and
C78

furnishing eridenee of temporary locations of the mi«
gratory tribes which uUimatelr erossed the Englidi
Channel, and first peopled the British Isles, In treat-
ing, therefore, of the archaeology of Great Britain and
Denmark, we refer, to a great extent, to what they
possess in common with the rest of Europe.

BRITIsa ARCBiEOLOOr.

The erldencei we possess of the national character
and habits, and of the various degrees of civilisation of
the aborigines of Great Britain, are derived from their
ancient curellings and sepulchres: from cromlechs, bar-
rows, cairns, and tumuli; from their weapons, orna-
ments, and pottery; and from the remains of their
boats and agricultural implements. Remote as is the
period the history of which it is sought to recover, the
evidence on which we have to reason is neither scanty
nor isolated. Scattered over the uncultivated downs
of England and Scotland, there still remain numerous
examples of the rude dwellings of our barbarian an-
cc'-iry which have escaped the wasting tooth of cen-
turies, or the more destructive inroads of the plough,
and afford abundant indications of the barbarism which
surrounded the homes of our forefathers. On the York-
shire moors, on the extensive plains of Wiltshire, on
the Sussex downs, and even on the cultivated hills of
Surrey, as well as in Aberdeenshire, Morayshire, and in
the Shetland and Orkney Islands, the ruined dwellings
of the ancient British savage still speak to us in no
uncertain language of the unskilled and simple condi-
tion in which he lived.

1. THS BT0N> PERIOD, \

Subdividing into periods, which are warranted alike
by reality and convenience, we shall advert first to the

Pit and Cave Dwellings.

Sir Richard Colt Iloare, in his valuable work on
ancient Wiltshire, remarks — * We have undoubted
proofs, from history and frum existing remains, that
the earlier habitations were pits, or slight excavations
in the ground, covered and protected from the incle-
mency of the weather by boughs of trees and sods of
turf.' These locations are almost invariably found in
groups, showing the gregarious and social habits of
man in the rudest stage; but the low state of their
occupants, physically and mentally, is apparent from
tl<e character of the simple dwellings. They consist
of mere excavations in the earth, of a circular or ob-
long form, and averaging about eight feet in diameter.
They are excavated generally about three feet below
the surface, and surrounded with a raised edge, save
where an opening is left, which no doubt served for
door and window, and probably for chimney also. On
digging in the centre of these pit-dwellings, ashes and
charred Tood are found, the evidences of their domestic
fires; and with them occasionally flint arrow-heads,
mixed with bones and other refuse, indicating their
connection with the earliest race whose weapons arc
known to us. The ancient names of some of these
primitive locations, such as that of Pen Pits in Wilt-
shire, retain an evident allusion to their characteristics.

Another class of dwellings, examples of which still
remain, maybe considered as the earliest improvement
on these primitive lairs. They also consist of pits, but
edged with stones, and occasionally accompanied with
small circular field enclosures, as if indicating the rudi-
ments of a pastoral life — the folding of sheep or cattle.
The use of stone in the construction of their dwellings
appears to have led to extensive changes in the habits
of the eariy Britons : but it is curious to find that in
this advanced stage the dwellings are still subter-
ranean; while some of them are on so large a scale, as
to suj;gcst the probability of their being adapted to the
habits of a people who sheltered themselves, like the
Esquimaux and the Qreenlanders, from the incle-
mencT of a northern winter. An account of very curious
and little-noticed remains of this class in Aberdeen-
shire is preserved in the • Archaeologia Scotica,' vol. ii.

iifiOBJlOLOOT.

TbMtooBiM vt% nomUr of lubtomneoui babitationi,
nrmd orei m dittriot of nearly two miles in diameter.
Tbe lituation bad originally been a foreit, ai appear*
from many large trunki of tree* itill dug up there;
but it ie now a dry moor. The roofi of theie dwellingg
have been uncovered from time to time by the plougn-
ehare striking against them. The entrance to them
appear* to have been between two large Btones, placed
in a eloping direction at one end, between which the
entrant ha* to ilide to a depth of about six feet, when
he finds himself in a large vault, occasionally upward*
of thirtv feet long, and from eight to nine feet wide.
Upward* of fifty euch subterranean dwellingg have
been found in one dletriot. The wall* incline inward,
so a* to approach the form of an arch ; and acres* these
are laid large atone*, some of them five and six feet in
length, and above a ton in weight. Where the ground
in the neighbourhood of these ancient cave dwelling*
has escaped tbe inroads of the plough, small earthen
enclosure*, similar to the ruder pit dwelling* already
described, are almost invariably found near them,
having no doubt formed the eummer habitation* of the
constructors of these massive subterranean retreat*.

Tumuli, Barrows, and Caima.

The raising of mound* of earth or stone over the
remain* of the dead i* a practice which may be traced
in all cuntrie* to the remotest vime*. The simplest
idea that can be suggested to account for it* origin is,
that a* the little heap of earth displaced by the inter-
ment of the body would become tbe earliest monu-
ment by which survivors were reminded of departed
friends, so the increase of this by artificial means
into the form of the gigantic barrow would naturally
suggest itself as the first mark of distinction to the
honoured dead. To this simplest construction the
term barrow should be exclusively reserved, while the
tumtUus is distinguished by its circular form. The
latter name, however, include* a considerable variety.
Sir Richard Colt Hoare has distinguished fourteen
difi^reut kinds of barrow*. Among these he includes
the pond barrow, which was certainly not sepulchral,
but should be classed with the pit dwellings otlready
described. Others of the distinctive features marked
by him are such slight or rare variations from the ordi-
nary type, that their recognition, as essentially differ-
ing from the others, only tends unnecessarily to com-
plicate the inquiry. The following are the most marked
and distinct, their names indicating theii shape: — 1.
The cone barrow; a.Th? bell barrow; 3. The bowl bar-
row; 4. The female barrow, called by Stukely the Druid
barrow. It is slightly elevated, and enclosed with a
vallum, or wall of earth, and its usual contents seem^ to
justify the name here assigned to it. 5. The twin
l>arrow, which consist* of two conical mounds enclosed
by a foss, one of them being generally larger than the
other. The others are more or less modifications of
tliese forms and arrangements, and no such peculia-
rities in their contents have yet been observed a* to
justify their being regarded a* essentially distinct.

The cairn is only another and more artificial form of
the tumulus, and is frequently found in combination
with the latter. Silbury Hill, near Marlborough in
Wiltshire, is the largest tumulus in Britain, and pro-
bably in the world. This vast artificial conical mound
of earth measures 2027 feet in circumference, it covers
an area of five acres and thirty-four perches of laud,
and its perpendicular height is 170 feet. The immense
labour required in order to explore the contents of this
huge pile, long preserved it from the investigations of
the antiquary, though forming the most remarkable
object of its class, and occupying a place among the
Celtic monuments of Wiltshire, where antiquarian
resoarch has been conducted with a degree of zeal and
intelligence worthy of earnest scientific investigation.
At length, during the present year (lB49),the Archaeo-
logical Institute of Great Britain and Ireland accepted
of an invitation from the citizens of Salisbury to nold
tlieir annual congress in that ancient cathetkal town.

The banows of the Wiltshire downs, lo long the ob-
jects of Sir Richard Colt Hoare's diligent and success-
ful researches, naturally formed a prominent object of
investigation; and it was determined that the long-
buried mysteries of Silbury Hill should at length be
explored. A tunnel was accordingly opened in the
side of the hill, and carried on till it had nearly
reached the centre, when tbe operations of the exca-
vators were suspended until the arrival of the members
of the Institute. When the work of excavation was
resumed, the tunnel was carried to the rery centre of
the hill, a distance of 144 yards from the entrance,
hut without any discovery boiug made. It had been
thought exceedingly probable that the mound might
prove internally to consist chiefiy of an artificial struc-
ture of stone ; a cairn, in fact, covered over with earth,
as has been found to be the case in some of the largest
tumuli hitherto opened. When the excavation had
proceeded bO far as completely to disprove this, it wae
still confidently anticipated that, on reaching i the
centre, a cromlech or kistvaen would be found, with
its usual sepulchral contents, and most probably ac-
companied with relics of corresponding importance to
the magnitude of the superincumbent earth-pyramid.
All these speculations, however, have proved to be
unfounded, though it i* still possible that, before the
search is abandoned, the kistvaen, which was supposed
to lie concealed within this vast tumulus, may_ be
found, contrary to the wonted custom in these ancient
sepulchral mounds, at some distance either above or
below the natural surface of the ground. The research,
so far as it has proceeded, has at least sufficed to show
that neither the cromlech nor the cairn must be inva-
riably looked for in the larger tumuli.

The most remarkable monument of the latter class is
that of Newgrange, another large artificial mound, or
rather cairn, in the county of Mcath, near Drogheda.
This Celtic monument presents ihe appearance of a hill
about 400 feet in diameter, and about 70 feet high, the
top of which is covered over with a luxurious growth of
trees. So early as the year 1699, some labourers em-
ployed in removing stones for the repair of a neighbour-
mg road, accidentally discovered an opening into a
passage formed of large, upright, and horizontal stones,
which communicate* with three large chamber* similarly
constructed in the centre of the mound. This remark-
able tumulu* was explored and minutely described by
Governor Pownall in 1770. The roof and walls of its
chambers are curiously ornamented with rude carvings;
and within these recesses were found large stone urns or
basins, which still remain. ' It would be in vain,' says
Mr Wakeman, an Irish antiquary, in describing the
cairn of Newgrange — ' it would be in vain to speculate
upon the age of a work situate upon the banks of the
Boyne, which, if found upon the banks of the Nile,
would be styled a pyramid, and perhaps be considered
the oldest of all the pyramids of Egypt.' Undoubtedly
the whole class of Celtic tumuli and cairns may justly
be reckoned as belonging to the same order of monu-
mental erections, of which the Egyptian pyramid is the
most perfect form.

Duns, Borghs, Vitrified Forts, &o.
Next to the sepulchral monuments of remote ages,
their fortification* form the most durable, as well as
the most characteristic evidences of theu: skill and de-
grees of civilisation which remain to us. The construc-
tion of oifensive and defensive weapons is the very
earliest proofs which the rude and solitary savage
aftbrds of that intelligence and design which distin-
guishes him from the brutes. This is succeeded by the
domestic and social relationship* from whence spring
eociety, ranks, laws, and all the primary elements of
civilisation. Among the first evidences of such pro-
gress is the union for mutual defence, and the con-
struction of strongholds for the safety of the commu-
nity, and the protection of their goods when threatened
by invading foes. The summits of numerous bill* in
Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, retain traces of ancient

679

OHAUBEBffS INVOBIIA,nOir POB THE PEOPLB.

hiU forti of rarioni deierfptioiii, ttom the nide earthen
ramparts of the otrcular dun, to the elaborately-oon-
stracted borgh, or itone fort, which ii still to be found,
chiefly in the Orkneys and Western Isles. Some of the
simplest earthen duns, consisting of a round or oval
earthen wall and ditch, surmounting a rising ground,
may be presumed to be the work of the same rude
arohitects who occupied the pit dwellings, and con-
structed the earthen cattle folds already described.
Rapid progress, however, would be made in the indis-
pensable art of military engineering. Every unsuccess-
ful defence of such strongholds, and every assault on
their feeble ramparts, would very naturally suggest the
necessity for more effective fortresses, and we accord-
ingly find examples of them, which have escnped the
inroads of the plough, exhibiting considerable progress
in the art of fortification.

One of the most interesting examples of the ancient
British hill fort is the White Caterthun, constructed
on the summit and around the sides of a conspicuous
hill in Forfarshire, situated about five miles north of
Brechin. It is of an oval form, composed of an im-
mense dike of loose white stones, the enclosed area of
which is 43G feet in length, and 200 feet in breadth.
Outside of this wall is an earthen rampart and ditch,
and about 100 yards lower down, the remains of an-
other double rampart and ditch are visible. Within
the centre area are the foundations of a rectangular
building, and a hollow, now nearly filled with stones,
which appears to have been the draw-well of the garri-
son. The literal translation of catler-lhuH is oamp
town; and it may be added that it forms one of the
various native strongholds which have been conjectured
to be the camp of Galgacus, the leader of the Caledo-
nian host which attempted to withstand the Roman
invaders in the famous engagement with Agricola.

Similar in character to these latter strongholds are
the more celebrated vitrified forts of Scotland, which
have formed the subject of so much antiquarian contro-
versy since attention was first drawn to them by Mr
John Williams in 1777. This intelligent observer was
employed by the trustees of forfeited estates, in 1773,
to superintend some operations in the Highlands in
his capacity of a civil engineer ; and his attention was
called to some of these singular remains which he fell
in with in the localities he had to visit. He accord-
ingly published, about four years afterwards, a treatise
on the subject, entitled ' An Account of some Remark-
able Ancient Ruins, Lately Discovered in the High-
lands and Northern Parts of Scotland.' In his preface,
the author remarks that his discovery was esteemed so
extraordinary, that it was generally looked upon as
a fiction, and no London publisher could be found
to undertake its publication. Mr Williams was the
first to apply to these singular structures the name
Vitrified Forts ; and though the idea of their artificial
construction was almost immediately disputed by va-
rious able writers, who attempted to assign to them a
volcanic ori^n, further investigation has abundantly
proved the justness of Mr Williams's descriptive term.

In consequence of the frequent controversies on the
subject of vitrified forts, and their very unsatisfactory
results, the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland directed
special attention to it in the year 1U25; and a series
of observations, made chiefly under the direction of Dr
Samuel Ilibbert, one of the secretaries, and since pub-
lished in the ' Society's Transactions,' have furnished a
valuable mass of information on the subject, the result
of which may be thus stated: — Ur Ilibbert arrives at
the conclusion that the vitrification was no part of
the process of erection, but resulted accidentally, from
the frequent kindling of fires at part.icular spots, and
chiefly from the ancient beacon-fires, which formed the
constant signals of war and invasion in Scotland from
the remotest ages down to the |)eriod of the Union.
Dr Ilibbert, occonlingly, rejects the name of Vitrified
Forts, preferring that of Vitrified Sites, as more cor-
rectly descriptive of these ancient remains, many of
which he conceives nere only enclosures intended for
C8(l

the protection of beaoon-flrei. The only ftrgnmeni
which tends to throw any doubt on the result of these
careful researches is that of Dr MacouUooh, who affirms
that, in situations where the moat aooessible materials
for constructing a stone fort are such aa are incapable
of being vitrified, suitable materials have been selected
and brought with great labour from a distance. Fur-
ther information is, however, needed to confirm this
point. Granite, porphyry, limestone, sandstone, and
what is called puddingstone, are all more or less easily
fusible by fire, and capable of being reduced to the
vitreous state of the materials found in these singular
erections, when mixed with the accumulated ashes of
burned wood as a flux, and repeatedly exposed to fire.
The prevalence of one or other of these fusible mate-
rials in almost every district of Scotland, renders ex-
ceedingly doubtful any opinions founded on the argu-
ment of Dr Maccullooh, or the evidence it would afford
of the practical skill and ingenuity of the ancient Cale-
donian. We shall see, however, that the arts of the
native Briton, as well as of the ancient tribes of
Northern Europe, included at a very remote period
that of smelting ores and working in metals; so that
the fusing of their castellated ramparts, for the purpose
of more effective defence, is not at all inconsistent with
their other acquirements.

The borghs or circular stone forts which abound in
the northern and western isles of Scotland belong to a
later period than the ancient British duns, and are
modt commonly ascribed to Danish invaders. They
consist of circular structures, tapering towards the top,
built of unhewn stones, and constructed without the
use of cement; within the outer wall, which inclines
inward from its tapering form, an inner perpendicular
wall is attached to it by large cross stones, which form
a series of flights of stairs, lighted by loopholes which
look into the central area.

A class of buildings bearing a singular resemblance
in some respects to the Scottish borghs are the
Nuraghes of Sardinia, first described by M. Petit-
Radel, in a work published at Paris in 182G. The
largest of these singular erections are more compli-
cat«d than the Scottish borgh, consisting of a circular
central tower, tapering towards the top, and flank .> J at
four points by smaller towers, united by a solid mass of
masonry, which forms a square base to the whole build-
ing. Others of these, however, are sin^pler in form,
and present considerable resemblance t<: the Scottish
borgh ; though they appear, when perfect, to have been
covered over with a stone dome, or arched roof, and are
considered to have been sepulchral monuments, like
the more ancient catacombs and pyramids of Egypt.

Round Towers.

While the vitrified forts have formed the favourite
subject of controversy during the greater part of half a
century to the archaeologists of Scotland, the round
towers have proved a still more fertile theme for the
antiquarian controversialists of Ireland. The must ex-
travagant theories wore suggested to account for these
singular erections. Phoenician, Indian, Danish, and
Celtic analogies were all brought to bear on the sub-
ject, often with very little judgment or observation.
The laborious and intelligent observations of Dr Petrie,
the eminent Irish archaeologist, have at length put all
these extravagant fancies to flight. Instead of theo-
rising on the subject, he personally investigated these
remarkable structures, and arrived at the conclusion
that they are ecclesiastical edifices, ranging in date
from the introduction of Christianity into Ireland down
to about the tenth century. They are believed (by Dr
Petrie and his adherents) to have been designed not
only for belfries and watch-towers, but for monastic
treasure-houses and strongholds, adapted for places of
refuge, whither the clergy could retreat with their most
valuable effects when threatened with danger from the
assaults of barbarian spoilers.

While these remarkable edifices abound in Ireland,
only two examples of them are found in SootUad, and

ii.g
belo

ARCHJEOIOOr.

they M« altogether unknown In England. One of the
Scottiih examplee, however — that of Brechin — ia a re-
markably fine ipecimen of the later and more adorned
■tyle, with the ezce(>tion of the ipire with which it ii
surmounted, which is_ obviouBly an addition of a later
age. The other Scottith example is at Abemethy. A
comparison of these structures with other ecclesiastical
remains in Scotland, independent of written records,
affords the most satitfactorr confirmation of Dr Petrie's
speculations, leading to the conclusion that they are
the work of the Dalriadic Scots; a race which emigrated
from the north of Ireland in the beginning of the sixth
century, and established themsehes in Argyleshire, to
which they gave the name of Dalriada, it ia said, from
their leader Riada or Reuda.' Within this narrow dis-
trict the Scots remained confined for upwards of three
hundred years, until, in the ninth century, they effected
alliances with the northern Picts, and with the assist-
ance of Irish allies, recovered their own kingdom from
a Pictish intruder, and at length extended their influ-
ence over the whole of North Britain, including the
districts where these memorials of Itiih architectural
skill still remain.

These proceedings, however, as well as the interest-
iiig memorials of them to which we have referred,
belong to a much later i)eriod than that of the Celtic
tumulus, or hill fort, or of the ancient weapons and
iiaplemeuts which recent researches in connection with
them have brought to light.

Celtic Weapons and Implumonta.
The investigation of the contents of Celtic tumuli
has furnished the most valuable amount and variety of
information which the archicologist possesses, where-
with to arrive at some degree of knowledge of the habits
and degrees of civilisation of their constructors. The
contents of these ancient sepulchral monuments, amid
all their minute varieties, clearly indicate three dis-
tinct stages of society. The first was before the intro-
duction of metals, when arms and implements con-
sisted solely of spear and arrow-heads of flint or bone,
and of ^ammers of stone, and when pierced shells,
stones, and beads made of horn or bone, formed the
chief personal ornaments. The long barrow, formed
like a gigantic grave, appears, from its most common
contents, to be the sepulchral memorial belonging to
this env, to which archtcologists concur in giving the
name of the Stone Fi.;;ion — that is, the period when
stone and flint formed the only known materials with
which to construct the rude weapons and implements
required in the operations of agriculture, in war, or
the chase. The pit-dwelling may in like manner be
assigned as the residence of the same period; and it is
extremely doubtful if even the rudest specimens of
pottery found in Celtic tumuli must not be regarded
as indicative of a period later than that when the un-
tutored savage found in his shallow earth-pit, roofed in
with boughs and turf, a suihcient home and shelter for
himself and his family.

A similar state of savage life exists in our own day
in the islands of the Southern Ocean, In the absence
of all knowledge of the use of metals, the Tahitians,
the New Zealanders, and other natives of these islands,
are found to coni>*^' uct flint spear-heads, stone adzes
and hammers, and the like weapons and implements,
so exactly resembling those found in British barrows of
the Celtic Period, that it is frequently difiicult to dis-
tinguish the one from the other. In like manner the
Red Indians of America were wont to furnish them-
selves with weapons of flint ; while the horn and bone
lances of the modern Esquimaux no less nearly re-
semble similar relics found in early Celtic barrows.
The tasteful carving of the New Zealander's club and
paddle are the first evidences of dawning civilisation,
showing a desire in the savage mind for somethuig
more than the mere supply of his natural wants, and
the gratification of his animal passions. Similar evi-
dences of the dawn of taste furnish us with the first
tokeua of progress in the early Celtw.

The use of the tepulchral uM mdit b« regarded «i
in itself a proof of some degree of prosresi. The
earliest of these, however, are of the rudest possible
description. They are fashioned with the hand, of
coarse clay, bv workmen ignorant of the turning-lathe
or wheel of the potter. They are generally extremely
unsymmetrical, merely dried in the sun, without any
attempt at design, and devoid of ornament. Of a later
period, though still accompanied only with weapons
and implements of stone, the urn is found neatly fa-
shioned into various forms, and ornamented with dif-
ferent patterns of lines, traced by some instrument in
the soft cloy, after which the vessel has been baked
with fire. The great number of these urns that have
been found, and the abundance of the stone and flint
weapons scattered over the whole British Islands, and
indeed over most parts of Europe, furnish evidence of
the same rude tribes having continued with little
change to occupy Europe during many generations.
A change, however, of a most decided character broke
in at length on the barbarous habits of this primitive
British race, not improbably by the irruption of more
civilised tribes from the East.

II. THK BRONZC PBRIOD.

The change by which we detect the close of the long
era of barbarism in Europe, and the introduction of a
new and more advanced period, is the discovery of the
art of smelting ores, and the consequent substitution of
metallic implements and weapons for those of stone.
The first metal worked in Britain undoubtedly' was
tin, and this may have occurred even before the close
of the Stone Period. The early knowledge of this metal
is readily accounted for by the abundance of the ore in
Cornwall, where it frequently occurs near the surface,
and is easily reduced by charcoal and a moderate de-
gree of heat to the state of metal. The history of the
trade in tin commences with the very earliest records
of commercial uitercourse with Britaui. The Phoeni-
cians at a remote period visited the British coasts to
procure lead, tin, and furs, in exchange for earthen-
ware and instraments of copper. This was unques-
tionably many ages before the Roman invasion. Long
before that period the Greeks had conferred on Corn-
wall and the neighbouring isles of Scilly the name of
the Cassiterides, or Tin Islands, and frequent recent
discoveries of Greek coins and other relics have fur-
nished additional evidence of the intercourse which
that ancient civilised nation kept up with our island.
One of the most remarka'ole of these relics of remote
foreign intercourse with Britain is a bifrontal bust of
the Egyptian Isis, covered with hieroglyphics, which
was found in the course of some excavations in South
Street, Exeter, so recently as 1833. Some Greek coins
dug up in the same ueit?hbourhood are mostly of dates
fully three centuries before the Christian era.

Notwithstanding the early intercourse thus enjoyed
with some of the most civilised nations of antiquity,
the influence was altogether local and temporary. The
isolated nature of the locality where the veins of tin
and copper abound, secluded the early natives of Corn-
wall from necessai'ily coming much in contact with the
inhabitants of other parts of the island; and as the ex-
change which they received from foreign traders must
have far surpassed in value anything they cculd hope
to gain by bartering with the other British tribes, it is
extremely probable that the knowledge and use of
metals may have long remained confined to that pe-
ninsula. Certain it is, that pjuong uU the varieties of
ornaments and utensils discovered in ancient British
barrows, no instance is recorded in which any article
wrought in tin has occurred.

From the few and slight notices of early writers, we
learn that bronze was among the articles imported by
the Phosnician traders, and given in exchange for the
tin which they procured in Cornwall. Evidence, how-
ever, is not wanting to prove that both in Britain and
jtlong the north of Europe the weapons of the Bronze
Period were manufactured by native tribes. In France,

G81

SrJLMBBBff S tJXKMUTtOK fOB TBB PBOWL

Oanmuk, ffomjt wd ia tha BritUh him, moulds
made both of itono and metkl lutro b««n found, ezaetly
oorrwpondiog with th* bronie u«-he*dt called mU»,
and with the adief, ipoar^haadi, daggan, and other
weapon! found in the barrowi of the Second Period.
WbtJe lome of the luoulds are wrought with great
delicacy, othen are lo rude at to convey the idea to ui
that their poHOMon fashioned their own moulds and
cast their weapons much in the same way that a mo-
dem sportsman supplies himself with leaden bullets.

The writings of Sir Walter Scott have sufficed to
add a fictitious interest to more than one curious tra-
dition of elder times; and in no case is this mure
noticeable than in the use he has made in the pages
of ' Kenilworth ' of the curious relic of Scandinavian
mythology preserved for so many ages in the popular
tradition of Wayland Smith. Although the legendary
tales of the wise Smith have so long held a place among
the traditions of Berkshire, and the ancient; cromlech
in the neighbourhood of Farringdon has for centuries
borne the n(\me of Wayland Smith's cave, these
tales are no less common throughout all the branches
of the Teutonic race. The story of Wayland is related
at length in the ' Edda,' an ancient Scandinavian
poem, embodying the wild and sublime conceptions of
northern mythology, and forming the original sacred
writings of the Norsemen. It occurs also in the earliest
Icelandic sacred poems, and is frequently referrea to in
the great German epic poem, the * Nibelungen-Lied.'
In all these, different versions are given of the same
story preserved by the Greek poets, and evidently a
mythic record of the first introduction of the art of
working in metals among the northern races.

This Teutonic myth may be unhesitating); regarded
as the traditionary memorial of the advent of the
Bronse Period among the northern races of Kurope.
We see in it the hero-worship of the rude Norsemen
deifying their Scandinavian Vulcan when he had passed
away to the rewards of the Valhalla of their wild creed,
and testifying their estimate of the gift ho had bestowed
on them by according to him divine honouni. The re-
mote antiquity to which the wild legends of the Norse-
men are referrible, show in some degree the very early
period in which this great change must have taken
place. In the writings of Alfred the Great a curious
allusion occurs which may help to confirm this. Re-
flecting on the uncertainty and fleeting nature of ail
worldly fame and honours, the royal poet exclaims —

' Who knows wburo the bones lie
OfthewisoAVcland?
Under what muund or barrow
Aro they now concealed ? '

From this it is obvious that oven in the early times of
the great Saxon, the story of the old metallurgist had
become an ancient and uncertain legend.

The opportunities afforded by the more extended
stud^ of archaeology for comparing the indigenous an-
tiquities of the various countries of Europe, enable us
more distinctly to demonstrate the extreme state of
barbarism in which the aborigines of the Stone Period
must hare lived, and the immense changes effected on
this by the introduction of the art of working in metals.
It has been previously observed that the sepulchral
monuments of the First Period, with their accompany-
ing weapons and implements, are not peculiar to Bri-
tain, nor, indeed, are they at all so common in England
as on many parts of the continent of Europe. They are
of frequent occurrence on the coasts of the Baltic, and
along the shores of the German Ocean. They are found
in Holland, Brittany, and Portugal, and on the islands
and the coasts of the mainland bordering on the Medi-
terranean Sea; but they are scarcely ever discovered
far inland, unless in the vicinity of some large river or
lake. They are, in fact, the monuments of a rude and
thinly- scattered people, who subsisted by hunting and
fishing, and whose imperfect implements totally inca-
pacitated them from peretrating into the interior of
these countries, encumbered a« tney then were by vast i
C82 '

fomU and mown, which bad* deflanet to tlwlr im«
p«rfMt impltmenti and simple arts.

The records of the infancy of many great nationf
preserve some mythic or traditional allusion to the
great change effected on the condition of man by the
introduction of the metals. In the Sacred History we
learn of the sons of Adah — Jabal, * the father of such as
dwell in tents, and have cattle,' and his brother Jubal,
'of such as handle the harp and organ' — the fathers,
in fact, of a pastoral life, with its peaeeful but unpro-
gressive virtues, such as may still be witnessed among
the nomade tribes of Asia. But her sister ZiUah bare
Tubalcain, the Vulcan or Wayland of the Mosaic re-
cords, ' an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron.'
A curious custom among the ancient Egyptians pre-
serves to us in like manner evidence of that people hav.
ing passed through the same great change in the early
stages of their civilisation. In preparing the mummies
of the deceased for sepulture, the embalmers proceeded
to extract the brain through the nostrils by means of
a bronze or iron probe; but it was not permitted to vse
any instrument of metal in opening the body. The
incision in the side, through which the intestines were
extracted, could only be made with a sharp Ethiopian
stone; and when they had been cleansed and replaced,
the eye of Osiris, the Judge of the Dead, was placed as
a mysterious seal over the sacred incision. The stone
knives of the embalmers have frequently been found
in the catacombs. They seem to indicate that some
process of embalming had been in use among that
ancient people before the introduction of metals, and
that (with a feeling easily understood), while the bronzo
or iron knife was adopted for all common uses, , the
more ancient implement was retained unchanged' for
making the sacred incision in the dead.

Milton in like manner refers to the introduction of
the art of working in metals in the eleventh book of
the ' Paradise Lost,' when the Archangel Michael shows
to Adam the future history of his progeny. The new
art is there also introduced as the great source of
transition from the pastoral state ; and the picture the
poet presents to the mind singularly realises to us the
idea, already referred to, of our own rude ancestors
smelting their ores, and each casting his weapons and
implements as best he might : —

' In other part stood one who, at the forge
Labouring, two mossy clods of iron and brass
Ilud melted (whether found whero casual firs
Uad wanted woods on mountain or in vale,
Down to the veins of earth ; thence gliding hot
To some euve's niontli ; or whether washed by stream
From under grouniDj tlio liquid ore he drained
Into fit moulds prepared ; from which he formed
First hiH own tools, then what m%bt else be wrought,
Fusil, or graven in metal.'

No wonder that the wild Norseman elevated to the
rank of a Divinity the introducer of the metals to his
race. The changes effected by the greatest of modern
inventions — by the mariner's compass, the steam-en-
gine, the railway, or even by the printing-press — are
not more remarkable than those first produced by the
introduction of the metals. It seems probable that we
owe to the Teutonic races — among whom we find the
legends of Wayland the wise Smith so widely diffused
— the introduction of this invaluable means of civilisa-
tion among the older Celttc. Evidences are not want-
ing to suggest the infereiice, that we owe to a far earlier
invasion than those of the Uclgic, the Danes, or the
Saxons, the introduction of the metallurgio arts into
the British Isles. Whnt particularly marks this change
with the characteristics of invasion by a superior race,
is the absence of marks of transition. Had the original
Celtse gradually learned to supersede their rude wea-
pons of stone and flint by the more efficient ones of
bronze, we might expect to find the latter in the same
class of barrows, and even deposited together under
the same tumulus. Such, however, is not the case.
The long barrow is destitute of relics of the Bronze

▲BOBJSOLOOY.

Partod ; and while U ia notorioni tlutt there U nothiog
on which chai>{[ei are more ilowly effected among na-
tioni than their lepulchral ritei aud memorial!, <Te
look in vain in the new irajplements of metal for any
cauM to account for the change in the fonut of the
tumuli. The concluiion may therefore be regarded
ai a le^timate one, that they alio are characteristic
diitinotioni, marking cuBtomi introduced by a new race.
We may picture to ourselves the ancient Celtoe dis-
turbed bv the invasion of tribes armed with weapons
scarcelv less novel to them than those with which the
Spanish discoverers astonished the natives of the Mew
World. Once more they forsook the Eastern shores,
and moved towards the north-west, while the forests
rang with the woodman's axe, the quarry was wrought
for building materials, and the high lands were crowned
with the ancient dun, or hill fort, the refuge of a war-
like, yet pastoral and partially -civilised people, who
had learned to combine for mutual safety and the
community of interests which civilisation gives rise to.

Cromlechs, Btanding-Stones, Temples, dto.
A cromlech consists of several large upright stones,
almost invariably without the slightest marks of arti-
ficial shaping, over which another large unhewn stone
is laid so as to form a kind of rude chamber, as in
the following illustration. Occasionally they are found

enclosed by a circle of stones, thereby further assi-
milating them to the larger Druidical remains, such
as Stonehenge. Various theories have been advanced
as to the purposes for which thepr were constructed ;
the most generally received of which represented them
as Druidical altars, designed, as some conceived, for
human sacrifice. Careful investigation, however, has
sufficed in this, as in most other cases, to show of
how little value the mere theorist's labours gene-
rally are. Whenever excavations have been made
in their centre, they have been found to cover remains
which clearly point to their use as sepulchral memo-
rials. Some have been found to contain calcined bones,
others entire human skeletons, while both sepulchral
urns, and weapons and personal omamentg, have been
frequently discovered among their contents. A curious
disclosure of one was made during the construction of
the Phoenix Park at Dublin in the year 1838. An
ancient tumulus, which measured 120 feet in circum-
ference, and about 15 feet in perpendicular height, was
ordered to be levelled. During the progress of the work,
four kislvaens, or coifins formed of separate slabs of
stone, each containing an urn of baked clay, filled with
calcined bones, were discovered. One of these, which
was preserved in a nearly perfect state, is now in the
Museum of the Royal Irish Academy. It is gracefully
and regularly formed, and neatly decorated with a va-
riety of zig-zag ornaments. In the centre of the mound
a cromlech was disclosed, the large covering-stone of
which measures 6^ feet in length. Within this were
found two perfect male skeletons, and the remains of
another. Underneath each of the skulls a quantity of
small shells were found, rudely pierced, and strung
together with vegetable fibre, so as to form necklaces ;
and beside them lay a fibula, or brooch of bone, and a
weapon made of flint. From this, then, it is obvious
that the cromlechs must no longer be regarded as altars
for barbarous and bloody sacrifices ; but as sepulchral
monuments, furnishing evidence to us of a patriarchal
government, and of the reverential honours paid by
the builders to their chiefs. The labour of constructing
such a monument, by a people funiished with such
imperfect implements, must hare exceeded that which

wai ezpendad on lotn* of tho TMt itpttldinl m«uori*li
of the ciTiliied Etnrptiani.

Cromleohi are found scattered over the lama coun>
tries of Europe to which we have already referred a«
still possessing the sepulchral mounds of this ancient
race of builders. Many of them are of far larger propor-
tions than that discovered in the Phoenix Park. Way-
land Smith's Cave in Berkshire is a work of this class,
and so also '.• Kit's Cotv House in Kent. It has been
attempted to establish tnat the latter if the monument
of Catigem, the British commander who fell in the
same battle in which the Saxon invader Hona was
slain, A.D. 455 ; but the marked character of this an-
cient monument eridently provee it to belong to a
much earlier period in our iiland history.

Scattered over the British Islands, and many parts
of the continent, are itanding-slonu, aa they are termed
— rude blocks of stone placvd upright, and evidently
designed M commemorative of some remarkable event,
the scene of a mat Tictory, or the spot where a mighty
chief fell. Others, of a later character, are hewn into
regular forms, and decorated with a variety of sculp-
tures. Still later, we find them bearing inscriptions —
gome in characters still undeciphered, some in the
Icelandic and Saxon Runes (a written character, which
the Norsemen are thought to have derived in part from
the Phoenicians), and some in the Byzantine character,
and generally decorated with the cross, the universal
emblem of the changes affecting the Christian period to
which they belong. Numerous stones of the same claw
are alio found in Scotland, Ireland, Denmark, and
other northern countries of Europe, sculptured with
snakes, dragons, and the like figures, generally inter-
laced so as to form a variety of beautiful patterns.
Others are covered with figures on horse and foot, and
occasionally with symbolic representations, among which
the elephant and other devices evidently derived from
the East, furnish an additional argument in favour of
the Asiatic origin of the early nortliern races.

The most ancient, and probably the largest, Celtio
or Druidical temple of ancient times was at Avebury in
Wiltshire; but unfortunately a village has been planted
on its site, aud only a few slight remains now attest
the rude magnificence of its perfect state. It was care-
fully surveyed by Dr Stukely in 1720. No fewer than
650 blocks of stone were included in the circles aud
avenues of this vast temple, varying from 5 to 20
feet above the ground, and from 3 to 12 feet in breadth
and thickness. The singular structure formed by theiie
huge standing -stones was enclosed by a deep ditch'
and a lofty bank of earth, of which considerable re-
mains may still be traced. It enclosed an area some-
what exceeding twenty -eight acres. The stones of
Avebury were entirely unhewn, and must have been
brought together with much labour, frequently from a
great distance. On the surface of the ground, both in
the neighbouring valleys and on the high lands, larger
masses of stone are frequently met with; and there arc
still a considerable number of detached oolitic sand-
stones of various sizes lying scattered about at no great
distance from Avebury. These are known by the name
of Gray Wethers, and from an\ong such the builders of
the great Celtic temple selected the materials with
which it was constructed. Stukely remarks that Ave-
bury might be regarded as the grand national cathe-
dral, while the smaller circles, which are met with in
various parts of tho island, may be compared to the
parish or village churches.

The vast Druidical temple of Stonehenge (see follow-
ing fig.), on Salisbury Plain, has attracted more atten-
tion than any other relic of antiquity in Britain. It dif-
fers from that of Avebury, as well as from all the Celtio
monuments of the same class, in being constructed of
hewn stones, and manifesting ideas of proportion and
regular symmetry of which no other known structure
of the kind exhibits any indications. Many of the
columni) hare been squared or hewn by art, and the
horizontal stones which surmount the outer circle have
been attached to them by mortices fitting the tenons

683

OHAUBBBCPS INVDBIfAncy fOB THB PEOPLfi.

%ti!cti liar* hMn Iftborioatly out on tbem. RMwlm
who bjv« not b»d »n opportunity of inip«cting thii
wonderful monument of mtiqulty, mutt not aMume,
from the above itatementf, that the huge monolithic

illars of this temple of Stonehenge are charaoterised
»y great symmetry and uniform regularity of propor-
tion. Thi» ia not the case. They have only been
rudely reduced to the neceuary form, but itill suffi-
ciently so to characterise them with a most striking
and important feature of difference from all other
known monuments of the same class, though we may
be allowed to smile at the learned essay compiled by
Inigo Jones, in obedience to the commands of King
James, in which the great architect undertakes to
prove that Stonehenge was a Roman temple of the
Tuscan order, dedicated to Coelus 1

The origin of this singular structure has been the
subject of endless speculations for centuries. The
earliest-published notice of it occurs in the writings of
Nennius, who lived in the ninth century. According
to him, 460 British nobles, who had assembled on the
spot to be present at a conference between Kin^ Vor-
tigem and Hengist, were murdered there; and the
Britons afterwards erected the circles of Stonehenge to
mark the scene where so many of their chiefs had
perished. This would place its erection later than the
fifth century, and is altogether untenable. The ' Triads
of the Welsh Bards' couple with King Vortigern the
more famous Merlin; and this is further enlarged upon
by Geoffrey of Monmouth, who wrote in the twelfth
century. According to him, the stones were originally
brought from Africa, and dropped at Kildare in Ire-
land, and from thence Merlin removed them by super-
natural agency, and placed them upright on Salisbury
Plain I By more recent writers all manner of vain
theories have been propounded to account for the
origin of this ancient British temple. It has been
assigned to Phoenicians, Indians, Belgic and British
Druids, Romans, and Saxons. This at least is obvious
to the archecologist, that it belongs to a later period
than the Ureat Temple of Avebury. Its hewn stones
prove it to be the work of a period when the knowledge
of metals had afforded the ancient Britons the means
of effecting this. It is not, therefore, a work of the
Stono Period — it is probably not even a work of the
Bronze Period — but belongs to that later era when the
art of smelting the iron ore had given to the northern
races of Europe the conuiiand of weapons and imple-
ments adapted to their untiring energy and patient
vi^'our. It is not improbable that the circle of unhewn
stenos which fonns part of Stonehenge, may have been
a lesser temple contemporary with that of Avebury ;
and tiiat the great circle, and the other gigantic sym-
metrical features of the temple, were the work of a
later age, and of a more advanced state of civilisation.

IVrsonal Ornaments.
Many of the bronze weapons found in early tumuli
arc exceedingly elegant and graceful in fonii. The
larger spear-hcads are frequently decorated with open
CU4

loopi and borden on the flange*; and the t>ronz4
swords, generallv known as the leaf-shaped sWords,
an remarkable for their beautiful proportions. In this
country the blade alone is usually found, the handle
having apparently been made of horn or some other
decaying substance. But in Denmark the leaf-shaped
■word freauently occurs with a beautifully -decorated
handle of bronze. But it is to the personal ornaments
of the same period that we must look for evidences of
the greatest taste and skill. Many of these are of pure
gold, and finished with much care. In Ireland more
especially, beautifiil gold brooches have frequently
been found of large size, and decorated with amber and
fine stones. Torques, or twisted collars for the neck,
armillee, or large bracelets, and rings of various forms,
designed to be worn about the head, the neck, the arms,
the wrists, the ankles, and even the waist, have all been
found made of pure gold, of silver, and of bronze, and
frequently characterised by great beauty of form and
decorations. Besides these, bodkins, hair-pins, tweezers,
and various other articles, occur among the metal
reUcs of the period, while the contents of the same
tumuli frequently include glass and amber beads, and
arm-rings and necklaces made of coal and jet. The
ornaments on all these furnish evidence of great skill
and ingenuity, and prove their constructors to have
made considerable progress in the arts of civilisation.

Perhaps the most remarkable of the personal orna-
ments of ihe Bronze Period is the torque, or twisted
collar worn round the neck.
(See annexed illustration.)
It may be regarded as the
most characteristic relic of
advanced Celtic art; and,
like the race to whom its
construction is traceable, it
is decidedly of Eastern ori-
gin. The gold collar which
Pharaoh put round Joseph's
neck, is rendered in the
Septuagint by the word
Hreptoa (tunied or twisted), and is supposed by some
to have been a torque. The same species of per-
sonal adornment is of frequent occurrence on Persian
monuments, and always under circumstances which
imply its having been regarded as a mark of distin-
guished honour. It is particularly referred to in Kerr
Porter's travels, as represented on the staircase of Pcr-
sepolis, and forming one of the most prominent gifts
offered to Darius. It was familiar to the Romans, but
only as one of the barbaric sp'.ils that adorned the pro-
cession of a triumphant general, or marked the foreign
captive that he dragged in his reluctant train. It was
reco,<;nised by the Romans as a distinguishing badge of
the Oauls, and, as such, is introduced in ' that master-
piece of Otesilaus,' The Dying Gladiator, which Byron
has inspired with such new and touching life in his
poem of' Childe Harold.'

III. THB IRO.f PBHIOD.

Tl'ie changes effected by the introduction of iron, to
tho») already familiar with the use of copper and
bronze, though considerable, would be slight and unim-
portant when compared with the radical improvements
effected by the first discovery of metals. The evidence
from which we may trace the first introduction of tlie
commonest and most useful of all the metals to the races
of northern Europe, is necessarily much more imperfect
than that from which the previous conclusions have
been deduced in relation to the Stone and Bronze
Periods, owing to the rapid destruction of iron, unless
under the most favourable circumstances. Neverthe-
less, we are possessed ol abundant evidence to show
that iron was in use among the races of northern Europe
long before the Roman legions had subjected the Oauls
and Britons to the imperial sway. The term, there-
fore, of the Iron Period, or Iron Age, very fitly suffices
to designate the last period of heathenism, prior to the
subversion of native arts and habits by the superior

prowMN
vanced i
The 1
tains a
spear-he
e41y be
state of
tity of b
tion cf
vented
beautifu
to be D
the con
The mo
but I

•I.l'lO-I'l iinr ARCH^OLOGT.;^ f.%ii:ia\UU-i

prowMM of Rome, And the influence of her more ad-
vanced civiliwtion and refinement.

The MuMum of (he Kojral Academy at Dubliu con-
taint a valuable collection of iron iwordi, axei, and
■pear-headi, found at Dunshaughliu. They undoubt-
edly belong to a very early period, and their fine
etate of preaerration it atcribed to the imraenie quan-
tity of bunei which turrouuded theni, tho decompoti-
tion c' which, by forming a phoiphate of lime, pre-
vented the rapid corrotion of the metal. Another
beautiful collection of ancient iron weanoni, believed
to be Danith, wai dug up near Itlaud-Bridge during
the conitruction of the Dublin and Cothcl Railway.
The mountings of the twordt were meetly of bratt,
but a few of them were richly platml with tilver, and
one it taid to have had a hilt of tolid gold. In the cele-
brated nmaeum of the Northern Antiquariet at Copen-
hagen, ancient iron iwordi and other hand weapont
are preterved, tome of which have the hilti ornamented,
and partially inlaid with tilver.

Numerout relict of variout kinds might bo added to
thote already detcribed, belonging both to the periodt
of bronze and iron. The above, however, will suffice
to characterite these periodt, and to jhow with con-
tiderable vividnett the degree of civilitation to which
the inhabitants of northern Europe had attained before
the irruption of the Roman legiont into the ccuntriei
within which these races had been securely established
for many ages.

BOUAN ARCUiEOLOOr.

In treating of the relics which preserve to ua the evi-
dences of Roman arts and civilisation, the archoeologist
finds himself in an altogether new and clearer region.
Here literature fumishei a tafo and unerring guide.
Intcriptiont, namet, and dates, fix the exact era to
which each temple or palace belongs ; or, with even
minuter accuracy of detail, furnish the names of the
cohorts of the Roman legions, and of the officers who
led them into the various districts of each country
which successive conquerors selected as the field of vic-
tory. Nevertheless, the archoeologist is able to add
much to the previous narratives of the historian, by his
interpretation of the relict which are from time to time
brought to light. The revelations of Pompeii and Her-
culaneunt have given an insight into the domestic
habits and social life of the ancient Roman, such as no
study of classic literature could furnish. Tho study of
Roman antiquities, however, it still more interesting
and inttructive when it formt a portion of the early
hittory of the nationt tubjected to imperial sway.

ROMANO-BRITISH PERIOD.

The investigation of the antiquities of the Romano-
British Period formt a most important branch of inquiry
in tearching into the early hittory of Britain. By this
meant we are able to tnice the firtt introduction of
many of the arte which tuperteded the ruder devicet
of the ancient Britont, and still minister to our social
comforts and personal enjoyments. To the Romans
we probablv owe the first manufacture of bricks and
tiles, and the great step in advance of the rude habits
of a people scattered amid the forettt of a thinly-
peopled countr}r, consequent on their gathering into
larce communities, and ouilding substantial dwellings,
in imitation of their conquerort. Luxury, tempered
by the disciplined hardiness of soldiers, soon created
new wants, and incited many dormant faculties into
action. The Roman mansion, with its baths, its flues
and stoves, its mosaic pavine and painted walls, its
sculptures, bronzes, and furnisniiigs, all opened up new
sources of wonder and of knowledge to the intelligent
barbariant who had in vain withstood the legiont of
CiBsar. The ancient Britith pottery it found to have
altogether ditappeared on the introduction of Roman
arts. The rudest fictile vestelt of the Romano-British
Period may be distinguished at a glance from those of
the native period. They are essentially difibrent in
form, aud much superior iu manufacture — the Britons

having; learned from their oouquerorf the art of eon-
ttructma aud efficiently uting the potter't kiln.

The forms of Roman weapoai 'iid implements, and
of every variety of domeetio uteniil or pertonai orna-
ment, were no less markedly distinguished from those
of the native British. They were not sin ' ° superior
to them ; thoy were essentially different <rm and

style, and tuperteded them u a natural cuusequenco
of the substitution of Roman for native rulers. Nume-
rous sepulchral and commemorative intoriptions have
been discovered in every part of Britain where the
Romans establiahed permanent stations. Inioribed
altart are alto of iVequent occurrence, and all these
afford valuable materialt for the hittorian. They fur-
nith unmiitakeable evidence of the itate of the arts at
different periods prior to the decline of the Roman Em-
pire, and their final abandonment of Britain. They
alto suffice to show the nature and extent of the Roman
works executed under the various commanders who
ruled the dettiniet of Britain at that important era of
itt social pupilage.

The Newcastle Museum it exceedingly rich in Ronmn
remaini, and particularly in inscribed tablets and altars,
owing to itt vicinity to the Wall of Hadrian and Sep-
timiut Severut. The Uunterian Muteum at Glasgow
is also enriched with a valuable collection of a similar
nature, derived in like manner from its vicinity to
the Wall of Antoninus. From both of these collections,
curious and minute information hat been furnished to
the historian, showing what legiont occupied the country
and conttructed the works, which ttill leave enduring
tracet of their pretence after the lapse of fourteen cen-
turiet. Legionary intcriptiont have alto been found
on tilet. At York they have been discovered in great
numbers, stamped with the inscriptions cf the sixth
and ninth legions; and in London, though more rarely,
bearing an abbreviated inscription, which is rendered —
The First Cohort of Britain, in London, It thus appears
that the Roman soldier was not only employed in con-
ttructing military workt, but wat engaged in useful
manufactures, to that ho became the inttructor, as well
as the conqueror, of the subject Britons.

The miscellaneous remains of the Romano-British
Period embrace an immente variety of articles, a mere
enumeration of the names of which would answer no use-
ful purpose, London and York have proved peculiarly
fertile in the disclosure of such relics of the conquerors
of the world, and,morerecentlv,no single locality in Eng-
land has furnished so interesting a variety as Colchester.
In digging a foundation there in the year lii21, for en-
larging the public hospital, a tingularly-interesting and
novel piece of Roman sculpture wat discovered. It
consists of a sculptured figure of a sphinx, twenty-firo
inches in height, seated, and holding between its fore-
paws the head and otiier remains of a human being.,
who has fallen victim to the wilet of this tin^ular crea-
tion of classic fable. A considerable quantity of pot-
tery, tiles, and fine-glazed ware were dug out of the
tame locality. Two fragmentt of Roman intoriptions
were likewise found there, and a small bronze figure of
the sphinx. Since then, Roman remains of various
kinds have occasionally been turned up, until the pre-
sent year (1849), when further extensive excavations
have led to the discovery of a most valuable collection
of pottery, and other relics of Roman art; which have
been preserved to form the nucleus of a local museum,
devoted chiefly to the antiquities of the county of Essex.

ANGLO-SAXON PERIOD.

The Anglo-Saxons succeeded to the occupation of
Britain after its desertion by the Roman legions, on the
decay of the Empire ; and under them Britain once
more underwent new and important changes. In some
respects it returned to ancient manners : _ the classic
mythology gave place to the northern deities of the
Scandinavian and Teutonic creeds : the arts assumed
a new form, in which the elements both of Scandi-
navian and Roman models are combined. Among
tho contents of Anglo-Saxon tumuli, glass vessels and

685

OHAMBmurS XMfOBMAnOir VOB THB PKOPLB.

drinking oupi freqnentlj oorar. Mujr of thMt M«
formed M M not to »dmlt of thtlr Mog Mt down un<
leN when empty, uid h»T« been thougnt to fumiih k
curious illuitration of the habiti of our 8axon fore-
fatherf, among whom the rice of hanl drinking li known
to hare been lo common. Pottery, anni, and imple-
ment* of varloui deioriptloni, are all frequently found
among the content! of the Anglo-Saxon barrowt; but
perhftpf the moit interesting olais of rcllci belonging to
this period Is the personal umaments, which include
enamelled and jewelled fibulaa, rings, necklaces, crosses,
&c. The most characteristic ornament of this period
is the Runie Knot, a species of interlaced omnment,
which continued in use, with slight rariations, till the

twelfth century, and is frequently found among tho
decorations on the earliest ecclesiastical edifices be-
longing to what are commonly styled the Saxon and
Norman, or Byzantine, Periods of Architecture.

The introduction of the cross among the personal
ornaments of the Saxons points to the remarkable
change ctTccted by the introduction of Christianity.
The Roman missionary and the Roman monk succeeded
to the conquests of tho Roman legions, and triumph-
antly planted the cross where the imporial eaglo had
only gained a temporary and disputed possession.
Thenceforth the influence of the creed and of tho cccle-
aiaitical polity of the Christian missionaries manifested
itself in every phase of social life, and revolutionised
the arts no less than the morals and manners of the
Anglo-Saxons. One counteracting influence, however,
lone continued to hold them in check. The Danish
ana Norse rovers, who won to themselves the name of
the Sea-Kings by the daring hardihood with which
ther steered across the ocean, and enriched themselves
with spoils gathered along the whole northern and
western coasts of Europe, made frequent descents on
the eastern shores of England and Ireland. Many
relics of these barbarous invaders have been met with
from time to time, contrasting with the more familiar
productions of native art and skill. Several long and
straight swords, with hilts altogether differing in form
and ornaments from those usually ascribed to the An-
glo-Saxons or native Irish, are preserved in tho Museum
of the Royal Irish Academy, and are regarded by most
intelligent antiquaries as relics of these Norse invaders.

Ancient Chessmen.
Another and very characteristic class of relics of the
Sea-Kings, is the dice and draughtsmen frequently
found along with more warlike remains, and serving to
illustrate the love of gambling for which these wild
Norsemen were notorious. Thoy are exceedingly com-
mon in Denmark, and have been frequently found in
Ireland, generally consisting of a conical-shaped bone,
with a hole in the bottom, designed, as is presumed, for
use on shipboard, to besuile the tedium of their long
sea-voyages, the hole bemg intended to fit on to a pin,
BO as to keep them from slipping with the motion of
tho vessel. Of the same class, though belonging to a
later period, are the ancient chessmen, wroucht of the
teeth of the walrus. Large sets of these have occa-
sionally been discovered, possessing great value iVom
the illustrations they afTord of ancient costume. The
frequent occurrehce of the bishop among these latter
figures, fixes them as belonging to a period subsequent
to tho introduction of Christianity. In tho year It).*)!
a number of these ancient chessmen, beautifully carved
with a rich variety of ornaments, were discovered in
the island of Lewis, buried fifteen feet under a bank of
sand. They were purchased by the trustees of the
Dritish Museum, and now form a part of that valuable
national collection. In the ' Ouide to Northern Ar-
choeology,' published by the Society of Northern Anti-
quaries of Copenhagen, woodcuts are given of specimens
of sets of ancient chessmen found in Denmark ; exactly
similar in character to those lo rec«ntly discovered in
the islands of Scotland.

The arts, the arms and implements, and the archi-
tectur* of the mediseral Chriitian era, all come within
68ff

tht provlnoa of tho Mrohstologlst; but thoy demand a
much larser n)ao« for their oonsideration than a popu-
lar sketch or the lolenoo can possibly include. (See
Nos. 38 and SB.) One class of antiquftios, though not
the most pleasing, may be selected from these, as pecu-
liarly illustrative of the manners and the degree of
cirilliation of tho period — that is, the

Engines o( Torture, Ato.
The use of torture as a means of obtaining judicial
evidence cannot bo regarded as a creation of the Middle
Ages, seeing that it was in use both among the Ureelcs
and Romans. Torture was used, according to tho
Athenian laws, in eliciting evidence from slaves, and is
affirmed by Cicero to have been legally applicable to
Athenian citisens. It is doubtful if it was used by the
Romans during the period of the Republic, but it had
come fully into use in the time of the early emperors,
and was subjected to scarcely any other restraint than
the will of the despotic rulers of Rome during the later
era of the Empire. Among the northern nations, how-
ever, whose manners and early civilisation have been
traced through the remote eras to which archeeologistg
give the names of tho Stone, Bronze, and Iron Periods,
the use of torture in judicial proceedings appears to
have been unknown. This cannot be ascribed to any
superiority of the northern races in refinement or hu-
manity when compared with the polished Greeks ana
Romans. The barbarous cruelties of the Sea-Kin^?
especially are only to be equalled by the proceeding;.)
of the savages of Polynesia or North America. Fi'ti.
among the whole northern races, the Teutonic and feu
dal appeal to ordeal or battle, appear to have exiater^.
under some modified form, from the earliest timet, as
judicial tests, which were rendered infallible by their
supernatural character. So long as this judicia Dei, or
judgment of God, as it was termed, continued in use,
we nave no evidence of torture being resorted to; and
among the Germans more especially, where the Teu-
tonic customs and infl'iences were most strongly rooted,
judicial torture appears to have been unknown till the
close of the fourteenth century.

The engines employed in the .n, jction of torture
have been as various as tho invcnii'. e ingenuity of man
is fertile in device. The iionks, under the influence of
a misdirected zeal for the attainment of a holy life,
and securing a claim to heaven by their own good
works, devised penances, mortifications, and austerities,
which were directed only against themselves. In the
thirteenth century we find the first traces of the use
of torture for inquisition of heresy introduced into
ecclesiastical law. While the Church exercised so bene-
ficial an influence in softening the barbarism of the
northern races, and ameliorating the condition of the
people under the lawless tyranny of the feudal system,
she appears as the introducer of this barbarous prac-
tice at a period when civil institutions and equal laws
were rapidly displacing the ruder customs of feudal
supremacy. In the great struggle between tho Pope —
Clement V. — and the Templars in 1310, inquisitors
were appointed to examine the knights charged with
heresy. The Archbishop of York, one of the inquisitors,
hesitated to make use of torture in the investigation;
and in consequence of his doubts, Edward II. refused
to permit its application to the accused. On learning
of this interference, Clement wrote a letter of remon-
strance to the king ; and after considerable hesitation
he submitted, by advice of his council, and a precept
was issued to the sherifl's of London, who had the
accused in charge, to suffer the inquisitors to examine
them by torture. From this it is obvious that until
the fourteenth century torture was unknown in Eng-
land, either as a royal prerogative or an instrument of
judicial inquiry. Edward II., the wretched kin^ who
thus first sanctioned the use of this terrible engine of
inquisition in England, himself perished by torture in
1327, by the hands of two ruffians to whom his own
queen, Isabella, the * She- Wolf of France,' had cou-
signed him for that purpose,

AR0H2E0L0OT.

The iron eue wm an intlranmt of iortnn in tn-
quont UM by the cruel and lupentitioui Louit XI. of
France, In thli the wretchea captire could neither
itand up nor lie down at full length, and yet lome of
the vlotlmi of the tyrant lurrired for yean in thii
horrid durance. Somewhat analoffoui to thii were the
ironi A-equcntly uied by eccleiiaetical inqultiton, and
which formed part of the miisioiiary furniture of the
Spaniah Armada, by meant of which tho lutferer was
bound with hii neck, arma, and knee* drawn together.
It ii a curioui fact that thii tamo dreadful posture of
enforced coniiraint was resorted to by tho pilgrim fathers
of New England as the readiest mode of judicial punish-
ment. The award to the earliest culprits of that set-
tlement is to be bound neck and heels together, and
to be left in that state without any food for twenty-four
hours. The culprits had been convicted of fighting a
duel, and the verdict was put in force; but their nutt'er-
ings were so great, that the^ were released after having
borne only a portion of their appointed punishment.

The rack was the commonoat engine of torture
throughout Europe, both in ecclesiastical and civil in-
vestigations. It is said to have been introduced into
the Tower of London by the Duke of Exeter in the
reign of Hennr VI., and thence obtained the name of
tlie Duke of Exeter's daughter. This device was im-
proved upon for its horrible purpose in tho reign of
Hcniy VIII., by Sir William Slcevington, lieutenant of
the lower; and it is by a popular corruption of his
name that the most dreadful engine of this kind ever
used in Encland obtained its familiar title of the Scaven-
ger's Daughter. It was discovered by a committee of
the House of Commons, who had been appointed in
the year 1604 to investigate some parts of the Tower,
and especially the ancient dungeon of torture called
* Little Ease.' Iksidcs the rack, a variety of instru-
ments of torture were used in England, such as the
gag, thumbscrews, pincers, manacles, fetters, &c. ;
to which list may be added the mutilations and the
pillory of the Star Chamber and High Commission
Court of the Stuarts.

Doth in English and Scottish history many Cvcamples
occur of the use of torture, as a barbarous means of re-
venge either on a captive enemy or a great criminal ;
and some relics of this are still found in the punish-
ment which the English lav awards to the crime of high
treason. In 1438 the murderers of James I. of Scot-
land were put to death at the Cross of Edinburgh with
the cruellest tortures that the ingenuity of a barbarous
age could devise. The Earl of Athol, after having his
ilcsh lacerated with pincers, and torn with heated irons,
was elevated on a high pillar in sight of the people,
and crowned in derision as the king of traitors with a
red-hot iron crown. The use of torture in judicial
investigations was continued in Scotland long after it
had been abandoned in England ; and James II. ac-
quired peculiar infamy for the use ho made of this
dreadful means of oppression against the Scottish Pres-
byterians during his goveniment of Scotland under
Charles II. The instruments chiefly employed for this
purpose were the • boots ' — which consisted of an iron case
drawn over the leg, between which and the flesh wedges
were driven in with a hammer — and the thumbkins,
which were applied to the thumbs, and tightened by
screws, sometimes till the bones were crushed under
the merciless infliction.

Along with the relics of a barbarous age just described,
the instruments anciently in use for capital punishment
may be classed. The guillotine, which has acquired
for its improver — Joseph Ignace Guillotin, a physician
of France — an unenviable celebrity, was in use long be-
fore, under other names, in Germany, Bohemia, Italy,
England, and Scotland. In Germany it bore the cha-
racteristic name of Falbiel, or the Falling Hatchet ; in
Scotland it was known by the lingular title of the
Maiden. Tradition assigns the introduction of this
instrument into Scotland to the Regent Morton, who
was one of its early victims ; but it is proved to have
been in use some time before bis regency. The origi-

nal Initmnwnt of capital punlihm >iich many

of the most eminent men in Scotlaii' beheaded.

Is still preserved in the MuNum of the Society of Anti-
quaries of Scotland, at Edinburgh. It consists of two
upright beams, with a groove in each, between which
un iron axe, loaded with lead, is moved up and down
by means of a rope passing over a pulley at the top ;
a third beam projects behind, to which an iron trigger
is attached. On thii the rope wai secured by a loop,
and the executioner released it by a stroke of a mallet,
and let it fall by its own weight on the neck of tho
criminal. Halifax in Yorkihire was the only place
in England where a ligiilar instrument was ever used ;
though the scenes of butchery frequently enacted on
Tower Hill and elsewhere, through the tremor or in-
efliciency of the executioner, prove that the guillotine
was a merciful improvement on the axe of the heads<
man. In Franco, the improved instrument of its in-
genioui phviician still remains in use for the execution
of criminals. It would be an excessive refinement of
criticism to pronounce it a more barbarous engine of
death than the gallows and the halter, though its ter-
rible associations with the victims of the lleign of Terror
might furnish a very sufficient reason for its disuse in
the most polished nation of modern Europe.

AMBRICAN ANTIQUITIES.

The antiquities of the New World occupy a place in
the investigations of tho archocologist altogether apart
from every other branch of his studies, though the very
recent date of the discovery of the great continents of
North and South America only renders more interest-
ing whatever is calculated to throw light on their pre-
vious history. America has its Stone Period as well ai
Europe and Alia. Tumuli, the burial moundi of ancient
races, are found in many parts of North America, con-
taining spear-heads and adzes of flint and stone, and
urns of rudely -baked clay, not greatlr dissimilar to
those found in the barrows of Wiltshire or in Den-
mark and Brittany. This, however, can hardly be re-
garded as funiiahing conclusive evidence of early in-
tercourse or a common origin, since it only exhibits
the relics of that primitive stage of society through
which the moit civilised nations of antiquity appear to
have passed. The Society of Northern Antiquaries of
Copenhagen published in 1037 a work of great learning
and research, entitled 'Antiquitates Aniericanw,' de-
signed to furnish evidence of the discovery of the Ame-
rican continent by the Norsemen several centuries before
the voyages of Columbus. In one of the communications
furnished to the antiquaries of Copenhagen by the
secretary of the Rhode-Island Historical Society, it is
remarked: — ' In the western parts of our country may
still be seen numerous and extensive mounds, similar
to the tumuli met with in Scandinavia, Tartary, and
Russia ; also the remains of fortifications that must
have required for their construction a degree of industry,
labour, and skill, as well as an advancement in the
arts, that never characterised any of the Indian tribes.
Various articles of pottery are found in thcin, with the
method of manufacturing which they were entirely
unacquainted. But, above all, many rocks inscribed
with unknown characters, apparently of very ancient
origin, have been discovered, scattered through diffe-
ront parts of the country, such as it was impossible so
to engrave without the aid of iron or other hard me-
tallic instruments.' Of several of these rocks engravings
are given; and while some are in rude and unknown
characters and hieroglyphics, others are unquestionably
engraved in Runic characters, corresponding to the
ancient monuments of Northern Europe.

It is in the southern parts of the North American
continent, however, that the most interesting evidences
of ancient manners and the arts of civilisation are to
be found. Allusion has already been made to the
pyramids of Mexico ; but besides these, ruins of great
extent and considerable variety of design still attest
the magnificence of the ancient kingdom of Montezuma.
Many of the older and more important monuments re-

C87

CHAHBEBSH IVfOBMATIOX lOB THK PEOPLE.

miklnlnc In Mexico ue ranrdid m th* work of % ttiii
•Ikrilor r»io than tb»t which j{»t« w»v toforo tho litre*
•oldten of Cortex prob»bljr of th* 'loltoc«^i»— but tha
inquiry ii ilill i>iToirt<l in oontid«r»ble obncuritv, knd
would rvauire to be diicuMcd at coiiiiderable length
with anjr hope of further elucidation.

Much new intereit haa been conferred on the lubject
of Mexican aittiqultiee by the publication of titephcni'i
• Iiicidenti of Travel in Yucatan.' Thii euterpriiins
trareller, after exploring many new resioni of Central
America, had hii attention drawn to Yucatan by ac-
counts he received of ancient ruini of p'*^ extent
which lav > uried in the vait fo^eiti with which nearly
the whole of that country ii covered. On exploring
the.se hia highott uxpectationi were gratified. In the
narrative of hi* traveli he givei an account of viilti
mode to forty-four ruined citiee, many of them con-
taining extentivo remaini of templei and nalacee itill
covered with iculnturea, and frequently auoriK'd both
with painting! and hieroglyphici. Mr Htephrnn'* work
poMciMt a further value from being adorned with
numerous engravings of these gigantic memorials of an
ancient race— engravings from which we reduce the
annexed illustration exhibiting the front and back of a

Btono iilol found at Copan. In thoir mode of structure
or the details of their decoration, there is nothing which
suggests any resemblance to the ancient monuments of
any people of the old world. They appear to havo been
the unaided creations of national genius among the an-
cient Indian races ; and Mr Stephens considers— notwith-
standing the degradation to which the Indian natives
of Yucatan have been reduced under the domination of
thoir Spanish contiuorors and priests — there is no reason
to doubt that they are the descendants of the builders
of Uxmal and Kabah, though no tradition has survived
to connect them with so honourable an ancestry. A
very large portion of the country lying between the
Day of Honduras and the Gulf of Mexico still remains
unexplored.' Considerable parts of Central America,
and a great proportion of tho southern cotitinent, arc
equally unknown. Beyond the intricate forciits that
bound the known regions of Yucatan, or even within
their recesses, vaster and far more interesting ruins
may lie buried, nor is it at all impossible that Indian
cities may still remain in the possession of their native
occupants, and temples exist there where the ancient
idols of Mexico and Yucatan are itill worshipped by
races who only know of the existence of the white man
by somn vague and uncertain tradition, borne to them
by a stray wanderer from the regioui conquered by tho
early adventuren of Siiaiu.
688

It U worthy of notice, that among tL« sltei of the
ancient temples and ruined cities of Mexico and Yu-
catan, tumuli occur of tho same character as those
which in other plaoes of the world indicate to us the
primitive habits of the human race, are the arts of civi-
lisation have modified this character into tho manifold
peculiarities of distinct nationalities. During the visit
of Mr Stephens and his companions to the village of
('hemax, while travelling thiough Yucstan, the curn
Informed them that at some leagues distant, nearer the
coast, were several mounds or tumuli. The Indians
had been employed shortly before In digging and exca-
vating in the neighbourbooti of them for stones for
building; and on chancing to dig into one of the tunmli,
they uncovered three skeletons, all in a state of extreme
decay, which, according to the cura, were those of a man,
woman, and child. At the heads of the skeletons were
two large vases of terra cotta, with covers of the same
material. In one of these was a large collection of
Indian ornaments— beads, stones, and two carved shells.
The other vase was filled to the top with arrow-heads,
made of obsidian, most probably tho work of the
ancient Mexicans, In whoso country volcanic regions
abound, Ilesides these, Mr Stephens was struck by
being shown a penknifo found in the same tumulus,
and which he regarded with pecu'iar interest as a
memorial of the European discoverers of Yucatan,
and an evidence of the probable data of tho tumulus,
' Speculation and ingenuity,' says he, ' may assign
other causes ; but in my opinion tho inference is
reasonable, if not irresistible, that at tho time of tho
conquest, and afterwards, the Indians were actually
living in and occupying those very cities on whose great
ruins we now gaze witu wonder. A penknife— one of
tho potty presents distributed by the Spaniards —
reached tho hands of a cacique, who, fur removed from
tho capital, died in his native town, and was buried
with the rites and ceremonies transmitted by bis father^,'
The accounts of the Spanish conquerors describe tho
Indians as opposing them with wooden c^vords, and thu
like imperfect and primitive weapons of war. Amung
them, therefore, the spear and arrow-heads of flint and
obsidian arc likely to have been in use; but such in-
struments would be utterly inetficiont as tools for
sculpturing the temples and palaces of Yucatan; and
we must tlicrcfore either regard the latter, like tho»u
of Mexico, OS the works of an older and superior riica,
or question the inference which derives from the dis-
covery of tho knife — evidence of the tumulus being
contemporaneous with tho era of the Spanish invasion.

In tho course of the preceding sketch, the reader can
hardly fail to be struck with the uniform characteristics
which are found to belong to the human race in tlio
primitive stages of society. In Kgypt, on tho banks of
the Ruxine, along the shores of the Mediterranean, and
throughout tho whole northern regions of i'.urope, wu
discover t.vidences of a primitive state of 8ocietv,throii;,'h
which the races occupying these ditt'erent localities havu
passed to higher states of civilisation. In the new world
the same tokens of this rudimentary stage of social lit'o
meet us, alike in the forest regions of the Red Indiiiii
savage, and in the southern parts of the same grout
continent, where the Spaniards found cities and temples
that gave evidence of nigh civilisation and considcruliie
progress in the useful and ornamental arts. Modern
vovagcrs have found the natives of the South Sea
Islands living in the state of society to which these
memorials of extinct races point. By such compari-
sons, therefore, archecological studies open up to lis a
roost interesting and instructive chapter in the history
of man. They disclose to us an era hitherto almost
unknown to the historian; and, enabling us to start
from a well-defined stage of life in the infancy of the
social state, they lead us, by a satisfactory chain of
evidence, to the period when conipleto and trustworthy
historic records render the investigations of the anti-
quary and the inductions of the archoiologist uo longer
necessary for the discovery of truth.

RIIETOlilC AND BELLES LETTRES.

UiiRTonic U » brnnch of knowledge and prkctlco hnTing
riirerutice to i|i(ikun and wrlttiMi romputitionf, and to
the nieani of «ni|)loving lanf;iiuKc mi ui to produce iti
greateit pouible etfeot un tlu' niiiuli <if men. WLilu
the rulei of ffraninmr are iiiioii'lrd to locuro correct-
n«M and uuimruiitjr in inflecting vurdi, and in joiniuK
t:)gethor the parti of vpeech in ui-ntuncei, acuurdiiiK to
the citabliahed uaagei of each loparata limguaRe, Khe-
toric connideri the nieanini; and form of tlie conipoai-
tion, and the total efTeot upon the ponona addresB«sl.

nellet Lettrea, or I'olite Literature, oxpresaoi a claia
of literary productioni whoio iubjecti are .he principal
nuittcm of human intorcat occurring in the world, and
which are adorneil with the utnioat ulcKanco and poliih
of »ty\e and treatment. Thuy correapond to what ii
uiiiroraally intcreiting the conversation of the nioal
cultivated claaies of aociotv. The chief works con-
tained under thii branch ot compnaltion are the pro-
ductioni of the poetic art, together with proao nar-
ration!, oxpoaitioni, and criticiinia, in roforence to
nature and human life ; including hlstoriua, annala,
and biographiei ; diacuaaioni of the dootrinci bearing
on human welfare ; criticiania and judt^menta of the
charactori, worki, and waya of men, culling forth the
attendant cmotiona of rovcroncu, admiration, eatccm,
lore or hatred, aympathv or antipathy. The greater

1)ortion of our ])eriodical literature cornea under thii
lead. Such productions are contrasted with worka of
acience; for thoae are auppoaed to inform ua, once for
all, on aome branch of nature; whereas works of lite-
rature are intended to auuply an undying appetite for
intellectual and emotional excitement.

The following may be regarded aa the leading varie-
ties of address that comi< within the province of Ilhe-
toric, as above defined : —

1. The simple forms of catabliahing a common under-
standing between man and man; the word of com-
mand, the phraseology of direction, intrcaty, question,
answer, acquiescence, refusal, co-operation, resistance,
concurrence, opposition, and the like.

2. The communication of thought, information, ideas,
and sentiments, or of the more permanent products of
intellect which are comprehended under the tcrma
knowledge and science.

3. Persuasion, or the means of inducing men to act
as we wish, not by external compulsion, but through
their own disuositiona and impulses.

4. The productiona of poetic and literary art.

5. The giving vent or expression to individual feel-
ings, for the relief or gratihcation of the inward states
of our being.

U. The modes of cultivated address employed in the
refined intercourse of life.

nefore touching in detail upon those various heads,
it may be convenient to discriminate and discuss

THE ATTRinUTES OF STYLK IN GKNERAL.

The leading attributes of style that are of a Rhetori-
c.il kind may be set forth under the following heads;
it being assumed that grammatical and idiomatic pu-
rity and correctness have been previously secured by
the appropriate means : —

eimpUclty.
By Simplicity we are to understand what is easily
comprehended, or what is level to the ordinary capacity
of men. It is opposed not so much to the complex aa
to the abstruse ; and implies a mode of address that
does not require aevere effort, or a special training for
its comprehenaion. The possibility of being simple in
this senie will of course depend much upon the subject
No. 94.

matter; but wo can nerortholoai conildrr, in ^enemlt
wh*t things are rvquiaito to bring out the quality.

Siiiipllcity ii twofold— limplicity of tornia, and aim-
pllcity of structure.

7'trms are aimpic, In oppoaltion to abatruae, on vari-
oui ground! : —

I, They may be the namei of common and familiar
objects and actiona, inatead of such as are rare or re-
mote. ' lie that doeth these aayinga is like to a man
that buildeth hia boua? upon a rock:' in this sentcnco
every one of the terms has the aimplicitv that attachoi
to mvaninga common and familiar. Ubjecta of a leih^
nical description, or such as come under the notice
of only limited claaaca of people, cannot enter into
ifmple compoaition.

*J. The terma may relate to thinga that are in their
nature iialpablo and cimceivable, rather than obscure
or invisible. The world ia partly made up of object!
of a kind to act upon all our senses, such aa the aolid
maases that aupport and surround us ; and ]>artly of
subtle and impalpable agents, like electricity, or the
mysterious attractions and repulsions that keep up the
activity of the sensible masses. Now, all references to
the one class of thing! ia univoraally intelligible, while
allusiona to the othera are underatood only by audi
aa have received the artificial training necessary to
grasp them. The common objects of the landscape are
aimple in this aenae : the diacuasiona about gaaeous
bodica, gravity, elasticity, vitality, and the like, are
ncceasarily abatruse,

3, What are called concrete tcmts are, in general,
more intelligible than the namea of abatractiims. A
concrete object is a thing as it exiata in nature, with all
ita parta and peculiarities — such aa a iiiountain, a river, a
metal ; while an abstraction is some property of these ar-
tificially conceived apart from the rest — such as height,
density, velocity, liquidity, lustre, specific gravity. Now
the gross object ia usually more conceivable by the mind
than iti separate properties; hence although this abstract
mode of viewing things ii essential to the thorough
comprehension of the world, yet for popular composi-
tion the terms of the other class are more suitable.
There is, however, the greatest possible difference in
the intelligibility of abstractions : while some are within
the reach of the least cultivated minds, others, such aa
the subtlest ideas of mathematics, chemistry, and phy-
siology, presuppose a long course of laborious studies.
Heigut, depth, strength, whiteness, virtue, are popular
abstractions; polarity, infinitosimal, ellipsoidal, express
notions that can never enter into popular composition.

4. Of abstractions, some are fictitious and untrue
to the nature of things, being the premature efforts of
men to get at the secrets of nature ; while others are
sound and valid generalisations, and are therefore
likely to coincide better with our experience. In ge-
neral, the ill-formed abstractions will be the most dif-
ficult to comprehend. The epicycle orbs of the planets
were less conceivable than the ellipses which are their
accurate path. The imaginary clement ' phlogiston '
gave a far less clear and simple idea than is now pos-
sessed of the action of burning. But, on the other
hand, shallow explanations of natural phenomena may
be more conceivable than the true, Descartes's whirl-
pools of ether rendered the account of the heavenly
l>odies more level to the popular understanding than
did Newton's centripetal and centrifugal forces.

The progress of accurate thinking necessarily leads to
a corresponding improvement in the simple and accu-
rate composition.

Simplicity of structure means such an arrangement of

terms in clauses, and of clauses in sentences, as renders

I the meaning comprehensible without WTere attention

CHAMBEBS'S TSFOWiATlGS FOB THE PEOPLE.

or ipecial study. When the clauses succeed one an-
other in the exact order in which the ideas can be best
apprehended; when what is necessary to complete a
ineaniivg is not too long delayed, nor interrupted by
other distracting meanings; when only a moderate num-
ber of particulars is required to make up one complete
statement; and when no circumstances are present to
produce complexity, distortion, confusion, or overload-
uiff — the structure is likely to be simple. The diffi-
culty of attaining simplicity of structure arises from
the nature of the subject : the stream of composition
can consist of only one thread, whereas it may be de-
sirable to narrate a complex tissue of events, or to
represent a number of things all happening at once, as
in historical composition. In such cases the skill and
art of the writer are shown by his being able to em-
body his matter in a series of clauses and sentences
where the particulars are arranged without perplexity.
Short sentences are necessarily simple; long sentences
may be either simple or not. Some writers, such as Ad-
dison, Bolingbroke, Johnson, Hall, who use long sen-
tences, construct them nevertheless with great simplicity
of arrangement; others, of whom Milton is the most
remarkable example, delight in a highly- involved and
complex kind of composition.

Cloamoss, >

This attribute is opposed to indistinctness, faintness
of meaning, vagueness, ambi^ity, uncertainty. It
implies that the forms and images presented to the
view shall be sharp, clear, and unmistakeable. It is a
merit that cannot belong to the style, if not first pos-
sessed by the thought; but it is possible that the clear
thoughts of one man may not be clearly conveyed to
another man. As already observed on simplicity,
clearness depends partly on the terms and partly on
the structure. Not only must terms be used that ex-
press well-ascertained and certain ideas, but they must
be so joined that the result shall indicate only one
meaning. Since many words have more than one
sense, it belongs to the composition to join them to-
gether, so that every interpretation shall be excluded
except the one intended. To effect this, in treating
difficult subjects, is nearly the hardest task that occurs
in composition. In poetry, Homer and Dante are re-
markable for the surpassing clearness of their images.
In prose exposition, Hobbes is a pre-eminent example.

Strength.

Strength, vigour, and force are attributes of stvle. as
well as of every other form of human activity

This quality must mainly depend upon mak ng choice
of such terms as by their sounds, or by the 'mages
associated with them, echo the powerful object and
actions of nature or of human life. The effisct oi' em-
ploying, as illustrations, the mighty agencies of the
thunder, of the ocean, the cataract, the wild beast,
and the like, is known to every one.

Strength is likewise produced by the use of language
strongly suggestive of the circumstance and detail of
actions and events, in place of their weak generalities.
Thus, when we speak of killing or taking away life, the
effect is very feeble; but when the specific act of vio-
lence is alluded to, as ' The men whose daggers stabbed
Caesar I ' a far stronger impression is conveyed.

Apart from the choice of terms, \ L: quality of strength
is brought out by peculiarities of si ructure and arrange-
ment. The placing of the forcible word of " teuce
in the position of natural emphasis adds to ti ' <ect —
as ' Great is Diana of the Ephesians.' The figuio of in-
terrogation has also a striking effect — * Breathes there
a niui 1' and so forth.

In general, brevity is a feature of strength; it is
hardly possible, by a diffuse verbosity, to give an ener-
getic impression, whatever other beauties may be em-
bodied upon that kind of style.

Milton is perhaps the greatest example of the quality
of stren^h that the English language presents; for
although Shakspeare produces strokes tuat could hardly
690

be surpassed, it is a sustained peculiarity in the writings
of the author of * Paradise Lost.' English literature
abounds with energetic compositions : the well-known
names of Barrow, Bacon, Dryden, Pope, will present
themselves to most readers.

Liveliness, vivacity, animation, express a mode of
strength or energy, and depend in the very same man-
ner upon the choice and arrangement of terms.

The most difficult variety of style under this head
is what is called soaring or taking a flight, which must
be carefully managed, so as to avoid a break, a fall, or,
technically — a balhot. Our greatest poets and prose
writers have furnished successnil instances of thia qua-
lity : it is also a frequent accompaniment of the higher
kinds of oratory.

The following passage from Dr Chalmers, on the post
eternity, is a good illustration of a lofty flight power-
fully sustained : —

' One might figure a futurity that never ceases to
flow, and which has no termination; but who can climb
his ascending way among the obscurities of that infinite
which is benind him ) Who can travel in thought
along the track of generations gone by, till he has over-
taken the eternity which lies in that direction ! Who
can look across the millions of ages which have elapsed,
and from an ulterior post of observation look agam to
another and another succession of centuries; and at
each farther extremity in this series of retrospects,
stretch backward his regards on an antiquity as remote
and indefinite as ever ! Could we by any number of
successive strides over these mighty intervals, at length
reach the fountain-head of duration, our spirits might
be at rest. But to think of duration as having; no
fountain-head; to think of time with no beginning; to
uplift the imagination along the heights of an an-
tiquity which has positively no summit ; to soar these
upward steeps till, dizzied by the altitude, we can
keep no longer on the wing ; for the mind to make
these repeated flights from one pinnacle to another,
and instead of scaung the mprsterious elevation, to lie
baffled at its foot, or lose itself among the far, the
long-withdrawing recesses of that primeval distance,
which at len^h merges away into a fathomless un-
known ; this IS an exercise utterly discomfiting to the
puny faculties of man,' ,

Feeling.

This term is used here in a restricted sense, to express
the quality of touching the warm feelings, affections,
and tenderness of humanity. It involves the use of
phrases to suggest genial and homefelt attachments
and associations — familjr, countnr, friends, and all the
force of sentiment that is wound up in the sociability
of our nature. There are a certain number of the
relationships of life founded upon natural tenderness,
and the terms expressing them naturally come to ex-
cite a certain slow of this feeling when they are pro-
perly used. Child, parent, fathenand, native country,
are all tenns suggesting tender emotion ; and there arc
an infinity of occurrences in life that involve this class
of phrases; and according as they are employed with
skill and keeping, in any kind of composition or ad-
dress, the style is said to possess feeling. The addresses
of the pulpit usually aim at this peculiarity, which
serves both to gratify the hearers with warm emotion,
and to act as a stimulus to a certain course of conduct.
The closing words of the t enty-third Psalm are sin-
gularly replete with feeling: 'Surely goodness and
mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I
shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'

It necessarily happens that the native terms of the
English language, which v/ere formed and fashioned by
the native English heart, are more impressive than the
phraseology of foreign natures and remote climates,
such as the Latin, Greek, and French portion of our
language. But the cultivation of our schools and col-
leges has made foreign idioms, and the associations and
history of ancient and distant nations, as full of ten-
derness and warmth to the educated classes as any of

RHETORIC A»D BELLES LETTRES.

our native oompoaitiontr. The effect of this, however, is
to constitute two different kinds of style : the homely
and the popular on the one hand, and the learned and
classic on the other. The wide interval that may sepa-
rate these two styles can be judged of by comparing
the * Pilgrim's Progress* with the 'Paradise Lost.'

ExpresBlvoness.
This is a quality of stylo resulting from the power of
words to echo by their sound and mechanical effect the
meaning or sentiment that they are intended to con-
vey. The suiting of the sound to the sense gives addi-
tional weight to the meaning, and therefore furthers
the main object of the address. Many of the words of
our language have a natural expressiveness, and they
may be so joined in composition as to have an expres-
sive structure. Pope has been admitted to have oeen
often very happy in bringing out this quality. The
following is an example: —

' If nature thundered in his opening cars.
And stunned liim with the musio of the Bphcrcs,
Uow would he wish tliat heaven liod left him still
The wlilspcrlng Zephyr and the purling rill !'

Expressiveness is often preferred to elegance, as in
cases where some coarse phrase carries with it a vigorous
meaning. No one would object to Cromwell's saying
of his Protectorate, that it was a device that had been
before resorted to * when this land was under the like
jurliburlies.'

Freshness.

This much-desired quality in all things presented
to the senses or the mind of man may belong in very
unequal degrees to modes ' of address. It is produced
partly by mere novelty; partly by what, although not
new, is in permanent contrast to routine or common-
place; partly by what is genial, loving, and hearty; and
partly by high and consummate art. There are com-
positions which are fresh for the hour, and others that
are so to every new generation. It is indeed possible
to render the greatest compositions stale by harping
too much upon the letter of them ; but when mode-
rately enjoyed, the creations of Homer, Aristophanes,
Chaucer, Shakspeare, or Goethe, have an everlasting
relish. The freshness of loving warm geniality attained
its perfection in ' Don Quixote,' which will remain an
eternal example of the qualities that make either a
man or a book universally agreeable. Addison and
Cowley are examples of the same fine-toned style of
thought and feeling.

The revelations of the mystery and workings of nature
break out with perpetual freshness upon the mind, just
as its scenic beauty is a charm to every new-comer.
Hence scientific compositions have all the delight of
novelty at their first perusal. In like manner the
practical devices of human life, the machinery, appara-
tus, and inventions of man for overcoming nature and
organising human society, are a source of similar in-
terest. The works that describe the ongoings of dis-
tant countries, as well as those relating to past ages,
nave the advantage that ne^vness and strangeness of
matter give to literary compositions ; but in such
cases the subject-matter, rather than the style, is the
source of interest.

All expressions and descriptions that direct the view
upon the outer world, have a healthier and fresher
action on the mind than such as relate to inward feel-
ings and emotions, or require an introspective effort.
Self- consciousness, although as necessary in human
life as sight or hearing, is naturally a weakening and
debilitating action, and should be exercised only in a.
small proportion to the efforts of outward attention
and regard. Shakspeare's description of Dover Cliff
contains some examples of the inward or subjective
reference, which will serve to illustrate what is here
meant by it ;— •

• Como on, sur ; here's the place— »tand itill. Uow irtaHfM
And iixxy 'tU to (ott om'i ty<* to tow >

The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show Boaroe so gross as Iwetles. Ualf-way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire : dreadful trade !
Methinlcs he seems no bigger tlian bis bead I
The fishermen tliat walk upon the beaoh
Appear lilce mice: and yon tall anohoring boric
Diminished to bor coclc ; her coclt, a buoy,
Almost too small for sight. ■ The murmuring surge,
That on the unnumbered pebbles idly chafes,
Cannot bo heard so high. I'll loolc no more,
Lett my brain turn, and Ou deficient tight
Topple down headlong.'

A combination of freshness, animation, and ease,
will produce what is called the light in style, so much
desiderated by all who aim at securi'.^- the patronage
of the reading public.

The group of qualities next to be discussed, which
allude to the various kinds of artistic effect, likewise
contribute essentially to the result that we have last
been considering.

(Taste, Elegance, dec.)

The qualities of Taste, being qualities superadded to
the conveyance of meaning, are the secondary attri-
butes of compositions whose object is to give direction
or information, although they are the principal charac-
teristics aimed at in the poetic and literary art. They
aro intended for the immediate gratification of a wide
surface of varied human susceptibility, while the other
purposes of speech relate to the practical ends of life,
which may not be capable of taking on forms calcu-
lated to give artistic enjoyment. Neither elegance nor
sublimity of expression is sought for in an act of par-
liament or a deed of conveyance.

The artistic qualities of style may be illustrated
under the following heads : —

Melody.
The melody or music of articulate speech arises from
the proper choice and ordering of melodious words and
phrases. Certain combinations of letters have a more
musical effect upon the ear than others; and the due
alternation of long and short, emphatic and unemphatic
syllables, under the guidance of an ear for the music
of style, is calculated to gratify the sense of articulate
melody. The following sentence from Milton has often
been quoted as on instance of melodious composition :
— ' We shall conduct you to a hillside, laborious, in-
deed, at the first ascent ; but else so smooth, so green,
so full of goodly prospects and melodious sounds on
every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more
charming,' ,

Comparison— Metaphor.
The employment of comparisons serves the purpose
of imparting clearness to composition in cases when a
familiar and distinct image is employed to illustrate
what is indistinct or obscure, as when the action of
breathing is expressed by the example of a common
bellows. But comparison has an artistic effect also, in
consequence of the emotion that is produced by iden-
tifying and harmonising the remote and the unlike.
The following lines from Chaucer, in his description
of the Squire, contain several highly- artistic com-
parisons :—

' Embroided was ho, at U were a mead,
All/tiU Qffreiheflourlt while and rede,-
lie sung and fluted gayly oil the day,
lie wat at /rah at it the month qfMay.'

Metaphors are a species of comparison, where the
likeness is not formally expressed, but implied by the
actual use of the comparison in the room of the original
expression. The necessity for metaphors arises from
the difficulty of inventing terms in any other way for
the more abstract and subtle kind of notions. Thus
we speak of the ' head of a state,' the < tail of a party,'
the ' stream of time,' ' a sea of troubles,' ' the light of
the world.' lAke »il other kinds of comparisons, of

601

CHAMBEBffS DIFOBHATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

which muiy ipecie* haye been detailed by rhetoricianB,
metaphon may conduce either to clearneu and force
of meaning, or to ornament merely.

Epigram.
Epigram is pre-eminently an attribute of style, and
not at all a quality of the thought to be expressed.
It is a species of play upon words calculated to surprise
and impress the mind in an agreeable way. _ It com.
prises antitheses, apparent contradictions, similarities,
and contrasts of sound and sense ; paradoxes, allitera-
tions, puns, and some of the most striking felicities of
metrical composition. ' When you have nothing to
■ay, say it,' is an epigram ; likewise, ' I am content,
and I don't like m^ situation.' Butler, Pope, and
Dryden abound in this peculiarity. A famous passage
of Barrow, professedly illustratlTe of wit, applies almost
exclusively to what we here understand by ' epigram.'

Metonymy— CircumBtance—tlie Ploturesquek
Metonymy is the name given to an effect produced
by departing from the strict use of language, for the
sake of singling out prominent circumstances — as, ' the
ci/y was put to the sword,' instead of ' the inhabitants
of the city were slain.' Cromwell is said to have set
up parliaments ' by the ttroke of Am pen, and scattered
them with the breath of hi» tnotUh.' Instead of the
main agent in producing an effect, some collateral or
associated object is chosen, so as to make a more vivid
linage than a strictly accurate statement could produce.
Of the many figures of speech enumerated by the
ancient rhetoricians. Metaphor and Metonymy are the
only ones that express wide and comprehensive mean-
ings ; especially when Metaphor is generalised into
compariaon, and Metonymy into associated circum-
stance. These two ideas of comparison and contiguous
association ally themselves with the two fundamental
laws of the human intellect, expressed by the terms
Similarity and Contiguity, and to this they owe the
comprehensiveness of their grasp.

The choice of ' circumstance,' or of collateral parti-
cular suitable to bear out the meaning of a principal
term, or to assist in illustrating an idea, is a main point
in literary art. Thus to take an instance in descrip-
tion : —

— * the whining schoolboy, with hit satchrt
And thining morning/ace, craping like mail
UmeiUinglD to tchool.'

Or, still better, the illustration of the fop ; —

* And ai the soldiers bare dead bodies by.
Ho called them untaught knaves, unmannerly.
To bring a slovenly unliandsomo corso
Uctwixt the wind and his nobility.'

As another instance of circumstances powerfully
built up for effect, take the following from Milton : —

* Nor uglier follow the night-hag, when called
In secret, riding through the air she comes,
Lured with the emcU uf infant blood, to diuico
With Lapland witches, while the lab'ring moon
likilipses at their charm?.'

The Picturesque in literary execution is attained
when the expression has been lo conceived as to bring
out a vivid picture : —

' The sixth ago shifts

Into the lean and ilippercd pantaUMn,'

To make words paint, as if with brush and canvas, is
a very high effort of 'iterary art; seeing that their
nature is to drop a Staries of impressions into the mind,
and not to hoist instantaneously an expanded scene
before the view.

Sublimity.

This effect is pro*luced by an expression of extreme

power, grandeur, loftiness, expansion. Htrength i«r-

ried to its utmost pitch, and supported by ad^uato

language, becomes subllnje. VVbeu large uud over-

6iW

powering objects are set forth in terms equal to their
character, they excite the emotion of sublimity. The
* Paradise Lost ' is full of sublime effects ; were it not
so with such a subject, it would be unendurable. As
an example of a single stroke, we cannot do better
than quote the following image from Sbakspeare, which
has never been surpassed as an expression by ' circum-
stance ' of utter ruin : —

' though the treaiura

QfiuUur^igermint tumble all together

E'en tUl cUttruction lielten •■ answer mo to what I ask you.'

Beauty.

This is a very wide word, and if used in its utmost
latitude, would cover everything included in artistic
effect in general, so that the other particulars under
the present head would be but varieties or forms of
beauty. The beauties of style are unquestionably for
the most part the result of harmony, fitness, and keep-
ing in the various parts of the composition. The adap-
tation of the whole to its end, the order and harmony
of all the particulars, the suiting of the style to the
matter, and of the sound to the sense, all combined
with the choice of images pictorially beautiful, and of
words and cadences musically melodious, are the lead-
ing particulars that constitute the beautiful in literary
art. When composition, considered as a fine art, per-
fectly succeeds in its aim, it must needs be beautiful.
There may, however, be partial beauties, and beauties
of many kin(|B. Every writer who has ever attained to
the rank of a great classic, has owed a part of his suc-
cess to the circumstance that his composition was 8ti';h
as to be considered a work of art. For the highest
beauties of style we need only refer to Milton, Massin-
ger, Addison, or Cowley, among the many great ex-
amples iu English literature.

Pathos.
This is an effect depending on the tender suscepti-
bility of human nature, on which are founded the warm
afibctions of the heart, and which flows freely on occa-
sions of misery, calamity, and pain. This susceptibility
can be reached by verbal expression as well as by other
means. Any literary work that delicately stirs the foun-
tains of wounded tenderness is denominated pathetic.
This class of compositions, unfortunately, has had occa-
sion to be very numerous. , The woes and sorrows, and
the tragic doom of mortal men, have inspired lamenta-
tions and pathos, elegies and mouroing, in every lan-
guage under heaven. By the ordination of nature,
the current of human tenderness is made to flow
whenever distress has settled upon a fellow-man, and
proves one of the great solacemeuts of affliction. When
either sorrow or compassion is aptly expressed in lan-
guage, we have a stroke of pathos. Bum's * Man is
made to Mourn ' is a highly characteristic example.
The writings of the Old Testament, especially the
book of Job, the Psalms, and the prophets, furnish
abundant instances of the same nature. Nothing
could exceed the pathos of Jacob's expression to his
sons — ' Unless Joseph come home with you safe, ye
will bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the
grave.' Of recent compositions, the ' Bridge of Sighs '
is a well-known example. When what we have pre-
viously denominated ' Feeling ' is called forth by a
tragic occasion, and expressed with becoming art, it
prod):cea pathos.

Ludicrous— Wit— Humbor.

The feeling of the ludicrous being one of the emotions
whoso stimulus is highly gratifying to human nature,
such a stimulus is frequently attempted by means of
speech. As a spectacle that causes the ludicrous re-
quires to be made up of some intimate conjunction of
tne dignified, lofty, or grand, with what is vulgar, mean,
or contemptible, so the nroduction of the like effect
through language must generally imply the embodying
of images or actions that possess the same mixture of

HHETORIO AND BELLES LETTBES.

inoongraity. For example, when MoliSro presen the
celestial messenger of the gods sitting tired on a cloud,
and complaining of the number of Jupiter's errands,
Night expresses surprise that a god should be weaty,
whereupon Mercury indignantly asks, 'Are the gods
made of iron )'

But confining our view strictly to style, a ludicrous
effect is produced when the language is at variance
with the matter on the score of dignity ; when a mean
subject is treated in dignified terms, or a high subject
in mean terms. Phillips's parody of Milton in the
• Splendid Shilling' is an instance of the first method;
Lucian's 'Dialogues,' and Swift's 'Tale of a Tub,'
exemplify the second.

Humour is the ludicrous with an infusion of the
tender or the loving, and is a far more exquisite effect
than the ludicrous alone. * Don Quixote ' is probably
the greatest work of humour that the literature of the
world has produced. Addison is also a very high ex-
ample of the same combination.

Cumulative Richness.

A corapo«itiou may contain few or many artistic ex-
cellences: it may be lean and thin, though not desti-
tute of all merit; or it may be rich, copious, and luxu-
riant — overflowing in comparisons, pictures, sublimity,
beauty, pathos, and humour. The taste of the writer
may be severe and exclusive, or it may allow of all
kinds of effects that can possibly sit upon a literary
work. Of rich and massive productions, we have great
examples in those of Rabelais, Shakspeare, Ben Jonson,
Richter, and Swift. In the compositions of the seven-
teenth century in this country, a for greater luxuriance
and richness was exhibited than we are accustomed to
in the present day.

We proceed now to the various forms of verbal ad-
dress and composition : —

SIMPLE FORMS OF ADDRESS.

In order that two or more men may act together, or
manifest their sociability, there must be some means
of la^tking known each othei's actions and intentions,
or some signs given forth by one and '.mderstood by
tlie rest. All the gregarious animals possess the power
of establishing a common understandmg throughout
each herd. This effect is produced in the human species
partly by the same natural expression as in the lower
animals, and partly by articulate speech, by which the
compass of the instrumentality is greatly enlarged.
The following are a few cases of the simpler modes of
mutual understanding : —

1. .Direction. — This, to be effective, implies an accu-
rate knowledge of the state of mind of the party ad-
dressed, OS well as of the force of the expression used,
a clear, slow, and deliberate manner, and such a degree
of calmness and composure as shall avoid the liability
to produce trepidation or terror. Telling a perso.i the
way to a place is a good case fbr practising the virtues
and qualifications of a guide.

2. Command. — This should be expressive and digni-
fied, but without any mixture of irritation or irasci-
bility ; and while involving clearness and sufficiency of
direction, it should contain no more explanation than
is necesnary for acting.

3. Pruyer, Intreaty. — This implies primarily an ap-
peal to the heart, or natural tenderness, of a fellow-mun
for the granting of some favour, but it has ultimately
become a form including every kind of persuasive
address. Taken in the primitive sense, the mode of
intreaty should obviously be respectful, humble, und
with a tone of sorrow and pathos, which will naturally
touch the same strings in the person whose aid is be-
sought. The praying form of speech has in all ages
had its highest development in addressing the super-
natural powers.

4. Hottility, Defiance. — The natural expression given
by the tones, looks, and gestures, make this emotion very

to signify reivilings, thraatenings, and the indication of
hostility through all the relations and associations of
life. Simple hostility is carried to its highest expres-
sion in the curse, which invokes on the head of the
offender the enmity of the dreaded powers above.

5. Encouragement. — There is a natural language of
encouragement and consolation suggested by tenderness
and fellow-feeling; and when extended by arousing
intellectual associations through the means of a well-
chosen address, it includes the suggestion of cheering
thoughts and recollections, the holding out of promises
and hopes, together with any form of assistance or
guidance tenderly expressed.

6. Interrogation. — The conditions of this form of ad-
dress are analogous to direction and command. There
is required the same combination of clearness and com-
posure of manner, with an appreciation of the state of
mind of the party addressed.

7. Eeeponse. — Besides giving a statement in answer
to an interrogation, this means the mode of acknow-
ledging any form of address, or letting it be known
that the efi^ct intended has been produced. There are
certain conventional phrases as well as gestures for con-
veying this acknowledgment — as • yes,' ' indeed,' * very
well,' ' I understand,' and so forth. It is also con-
veyed by repeating the statement as conceived by the
party addressed. 'jme form of acknowledgment to
complete the understanding is necessary in all cases of
direction, command, and instruction.

COMMUNICATION.

As distinguished from the modes of address above
alluded to, the present head is intended to comprehend
the cases where no immediate action is intended, but
where statements are deposited in the mind of the
hearer for action in some future day, or in some given
circumstances whenever they shall occur. The distinc-
tion may be illustrated by comparing the word of
command in the field with the directions to a sentry
on taking up his post, or with the still more general
and contingent directions of seeing that * the state
Buffers no harm.' The rules of prudence, social and
moral duty, are also of a very general kind.

Still farther removed from the most primitive forms
of address are the statements of the facts of nature or
life, when made without any reference to action at all;
although such statements frequently form the links of
action, as well as a gratification of intellectual curio-
sity. When we say, * water dissolves sea-salt,' we imply
no direction or guidance for immediate action ; but we
make a communication that may require to be acted
on, or it may be treated simply as a statement of the
order of nature, used as an interesting explanation of
natural appearances. To see that such statements
truly express the fact of things, is the province of Logic;
but their intelligibility and effect on the mind are go*
verned by Rhetoric.

This branch of the subject divides itself into three
subordinate heads — Narration, Description, and Expo-
sition : the first two are exemplified in travels and his-
tories, the last deals with science.

Narration may be said to be the simplest and easiest
effort of communication. A stream of words has a na-
tural analogy to a stream of events or actions ; hence
narrative is the kind of address most easily invented.
Ballads, songs, and heroic adventures, where the nar-
rative is stirring and musical, like the conception of
the deeds, are in all countries among the most primi-
tive forms of composition.

Description, or pictorial expression, is a more difli-
cult effort of invention, from there being a fainter and
less suggestive analogy between still life and a flow of
articulate utterance. The paintei's instntmentality is
the appropriate means of representation in this case.
Besides the faintness of the analogy between the sub-
ject and the expression, there is the difficulty already
alluded to of raising in the mind the image of ex-

manifest to the hostile parly. When words are selected panded space by a dropping current of verbal impres-
io add to the force of the expression, they are such as | sious. Under the heads of Travels and Historical Oom-

69a

OHAMBBBCra DTFOBMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

poailum re s'liall advert to the l^^ading points inrolved
in narratire and pictorial deacript ><jn :—

Ofbaveli.
The traoeller'e point of view furniihes the moit na-
tural way of conceiving places and transactions. The
panoramic display of a country, or the gradual unfold-
ing of scene ailer scene, is more impressive than any
otht/r method of bringing before us a wide and varied
scene. The other methods of storing up in the mind
the entire expanse of a town or a province, are the
map, the hird'i-eye-view, or mountain prospect, and the
statistical catalogue.

To gratify the longings of men to enter into the
living experience that lies behind the detail of exports
and imports, of cargoes of tea and sugar, of silk and
gold, of latitudes and longitudes, monsoons and rainy
seasons, De Foe constructed his admirable fiction of
* A Voyage Round the World,' where he exhibits the
entire ongoings of the seafaring and trading life
through all the incidents of a circumnavigation of the
globe. In this, and in ' Robinson Crusoe,' and in all
nis other life-pictutes and histories, the author has
adopted the point of view of a traveller, or of a single
eye-witness, whose company the reader is supposed to
keep. As one person can see as much as one other
person can, this mode of description is perfectly
adapted to the natural comprehension of men; while
to compare and join together the obsen'ations of several
persons standing iu different positions is a very dis-
tracting operation. The life and manners of the heroic
Greeks could not have been painted so vividly and
intelligibly in any other form as in the adventures of
Ulysses. The most fascinating poems and romances
are those that run upon the thread of a single per-
sonage, M in ' Don Quixote,' or the * iEneid' of Virgil.
With regard to description, as applied to the exterior
world, or the appearances presented by surrounding
scenery, the representation of which must be the basis
of all other descriptions, the following points must be
kept in view : —

1. In describing any com-iilex thi.ig whatsoever, we
ought to commence by stating soire great general or
comprehensive feature of the whole, on which to dis-
tribute or attach the subsequent details. If there be
anything that confers a unity on the object, that unity
should be set prominently forth, and the individual
parts should an point towards it. Naturalists com-
mence with the backbone iu the description of the ani-
mal frame. The primary conception of the earth is a
huge ball, with rolling motion and variegated surface.
The first epithet to be used in speaking of a moun-
tain should give the general outline — such as, a vast
conical hill, a steep a;icent, a long ridge, a low flat
eminence. In a mountain(Ais countiy we fix upon the
largest mountain range as the backbone, and represent
the inferior chains as its members, and we derive from
these the starting-points to the valleys, plains, and
rivers ; and in this wav the detailed /catures preserve
their places in our view of the whole. The word-
painter shows his art in discerning, in the midst of
complexity and detail, some comprehensive feature
that gives wholeness or unity to the scene.

The basis of the description, <r the leading feature
to which all the rest has to be i ;lated, may oe either
an outline or a centre; it may nrjceed upon a general
figure of the circumference and dclosure of the whole,
or from some prominent and commanding point in the
interior. The inside of a building requires to be de-
scribed by outline : we must give, in the first place,
the form and size of the floor, the height and the form
of the roof, with some striking comparison or expres-
sion that may serve to bring out the feeling of the
solid expanse in the reader's mind. This will be fol-
lowed up by the orderly detail of the contents; and it
Is well to repeat and indicate in various ways the great
primary notion of the form; for if this cnce drops out
of the viow, the whole picture crumbles into confused
frag ^tnts. Satan's pblace iu ' Paradise Lost' is admi-
ns

rably pictured by the appropriate exprcflsion of space
and outline : —

— — ' The ascending rite
Stood fixed hor stately hefght ; and straight the dcors,
Opcninff their brazen foldH, discover wide
AVithin, her ample spaces, over the smooth
And level pavement ; from the archM roof.
Pendent by subtio magic, many a row
Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
With naplitha and aspbaltus, yielded liglit
As trom a sicy.' \

A plain enclosed by mountains is a proper subject
for outline description. Seas and lakes, encampments,
and all kinds of scenery and expanse whose character
and internal arrangement are determined by their en-
closing boundary, or by the form of their surface, must
be treated in the same manner.

In picturing towns, the basis ought in general to be
a centre, or some prominent object that governs all the
rest, or that is sufliciently important to fix the atten-
tion as a leading feature of the scene. The river run-
ning through or past a town is usually fixed on for this
purpose; or if on the sea-shore, the fine of coast may
be choseii. Next to these, a great natural valley or a
central eminence will serve the purpose ; or, lastly,
some of the great thoroughfares of the interior. After
choosing out a main trank in this way, and impressing
it sufficiently on the mind, we naturally follow out,
first its larger, and then its smaller branches; but on
all occasions we are to keep starting from the great
centre. Thus the order of conceiving and describing
Edinburgh would obviously be to take, first, its situation
on the Forth; and secondly, its great natural division
into the Old and New Towns by the valley along Princes
Street; and in specifying a particular spot or locality
to a stranger or to a reader, it would be proper always
to set out from this central tract until such time as it
was thoroughly impressed on the mind; after that we
might refer to secondary trunks, such as High Street,
the main artery of the Old Town ; and the parallels to
Princes Street on the north, including the body of the
New Town. But until the Princes Street line has been
repeated many times, we ought not to make use of a
second starting-place. If the reader, or the transient
visitor, retains any impression at all, it ought to be
Princes Street, with its terminations and boundaries;
if he recollect something more than this, it ought to be
high Street; and so on. The description and the repe-
tition should be so conducted, that the main trunk may
be the most deeply impressed of all, and that the prin-
cipal branches from it may make the second-best im-
pression; while the largest ofl^shoots from these should
rank third in order of impressiveness; :.nd what is first
forgotten should be the minuter ramifications — such as
the offsets of the interior, and the lanes and minor
localities of the scattered subur'o. Almost every town
may be simplifie<I on this principle. In London, aAer
the Thames, the Strand and Holbom lines are the ob-
vious basis of a traveller's conception. Rome has for
its great trunks the river and the Corso; and for its
secondaries of reference, the Vatican, the Castle of St
Angelo, and the Colosseum — all which iiave been at-
tended to by Dickens in his picture of the city.

A river, a valley, or a highway may often form the
appropriate centre of the general scenery of a district
of conni'ry; and consequently the description should
be shaped with a view to these being vividly impressed.
If the continuity of the main line of reference is broken
up, the whole scene reek in the imagination of the
reader, as if the ground gave way beneath his feet.

2. In description, as practised under the traveller's
point of view, it is an important mftxim never to let
the reader lose hold of the dominant circumstances that
rule the perceptions and feelings of the observer. There
are certain points that determme, in preference to all
others, the state of the miud in any given situation.
If we wish to make a second person, as it were, stand
where we stood, and oee what we saw, we must, in the

RHBTOBIO AND BELLES LETTBES.

firit pUue, make him clearly to conceive the footing or
support, the nature o' the ground, and the manner of
resting upon it. We should indicate whether our foot-
ing was firm or loose, rough or smooth, ascending or
descending, and whether we walked, stood, lay, rested,
or rode. There will of course be the supposition that
we were sustained somehow; but it is essential to let it
be distinctly understood what wag the exact circum-
■tance of this first and most indispensable contact with
the outer world; and the mors surely and viridly this
is conceived, the more perfect fill be the understanding
and conception of all other things.

In the leeond place, there should be no mistake about
the state of the light that prevails at the time, whether
clear sunshine in a blue iiy, or otherwise; or if, in re-
ference to the night, whether the moon or stars were
visible. The poets are particularly attentive to this
particular —

' He ceased, the whole assembly lilent lal.
Charmed into oostacy by his digcourso,
Throughout tho twilight hall.'

In the ihird phce, it is necessary to indicate decisively
the forward protptct, which, next to the actual footing,
engrosses the solicitude of the mind, and determines
the bent of the feelings. It ought to be pointed out
whether the prospect is free and open, or shut and en-
cumbered; whether it spreads out far, or closes near at
hand; whether it rises or descends. In our onward
movement, this determines our hopes and fears, or the
complexion of the future; and if we are at rest, it con-
trols our vision and the trains of thought suggested to
the imagination.

In tlie fourth place, and next to the forward prospect,
the writer should make known the side hedging of his
path, the close confinement, or free expansion on the
right and left; for this, too, will afiect nis feelings and
meditations.

In Hie ffth place, the roofing overhead should be
included. In the open air, this would refer to the
state of the sk^; but it becomes a more essential point
of description if under a roof.

To these five points may be added the sounds that
salute the ear, and any other sensations that are mate-
rial under the circunisiances. No human being can
escape from the effects of the various influences now
enumerated: they press most intimately upon the whole
being; and one person cannot enter into the mind and
feelings of another in a different position, without con-
ceiving all of them exactly a,', they existed. While
they remain uncertain and unfelt, all subsequent de-
scription of spectacle, motion, sound, and life, is mere
fancy-work or aerial pictures, which a second party
has no personal relation to, no human sympathy with,
no feeling of bodily presence among.

With regard to description in general, as applicable
to all cases where a complex object or scene cas to be
represented to the view, the leading maxim, as already
hinted at, is to combine a type of th ; whole with an
enunuralion of the parts. Some comprehensive desig-
nation that may spread out the main features of the
object is indispensable to the description; and within
this the details may be arranged in proper form and
order. The following is a very simple instance from
Milton, which seems as if it could not have been stated
otherwise than he has done; but it shows itself in car-
rying into complicated cases the method that appears
self-evident in easy cases. The words in italics mark
the comprehensive designation or type, the rest of the
description giving the details : —

* They pluolced the ieated hUU, with all their load-
Rooks, waters, woods— and by tho shaggy toi)S
Vp-lUting, boro thorn in their hands,'

Carlyle's description of the town and neighbourhood
of Dunbar, the scene of Cromwell's decisive victory
over the Scotch, is rendered vivid and conceivable, in
consequence of hit always introducing particulars and

details by terms and epithets that ate at once compte*
hensive and picturesque * —

* The small town of Dunbar stands high and windy,
looking down over its herring boats, over its grim old
castle, now much honeycombed, on one tf inoae pro-
jeeting rock-promontoiies with which that shore of the
Firth of Forth is niched and Vandyked as far as the
eye can reach. A beautiful sea; good land too, now
that the plougher understands his trade; a arim niched
barrier of whimtone sheltering it from the chafings and
tumblings of the big blue German Ocean. Seaward,
St Abb's Head, of whinstrne, bounds your horizon to
the east, not very far off' ; west, close by, is the deep
bay, and fishy little village of Belhaven : the gloomy
Bass and other rock-islets, and farther, the hills of Fife,
and foreshadows of the Highlands, are visible as you
look seaward. From the bottom of Belhaven Bay to
that of the next sea-bight St Abb's-ward, the town and
its environs form a peninsula. Along the base of
which peninsula, " not much above a mile and a-half
from sea to sea," Oliver Cromwell's army, on Monday,
2d of September, 1650, stands ranksd, with its tents
and town behind it, in very forlorn circumstances.

* Landward, as you look from the town of Dunbar,
there rises, some short mile oS, a dusky continent qf
barren heath hills ; the Lammermoor, where only moun-
tain sheep can be at home. The crossing of which by
any of its boggy passes and brawling stream-courses
no army, hardly a solitary Scotch packman, could
attempt in such weather. To the edge of these Lam-
mermoor heights David Leslie has betaken himself;
lies now along the utmost spur of them, a long hill of
considerable height. There lies he since Sunday night,
in the top and slope of this Doon Hill, with the impas-
sable heath continents behind him; embraces, as with
outspread tiger-claws, the base-line of Oliver's Dunbar
peninsula.'

Of Historical Composition.

Narration is, in the simplest class of cases, an easier
effort than description; inasmuch as we have merely to
enumerate the objects or events one after another as
they rise to the vicir. But since, in the greater num-
ber of instances where narration is of any importance,
the successive events present individually a wide and
complex surface, there is demanded for each an appro-
priate description; and a succession of descriptions will
thus make up the narrative.

This is particularly true of historical narration, or
the detail of the larger transaction!? of masses of men
on the face of the globe. Histo is properly a com-
pound of narration and description : it has to express
the mighty march of pations through the ages of time.
There is, however, this peculiarity in the case, that
the scene of action remains the same in all its larger
features. The surface of the earth, the mountains,
valleys, plains, and rivers, where men live and act^ con-
tinue the same; and they have, therefore, to be maoie
known once for all in the case of each separate people
that remain attached to one territory. Although this
diminishes the difficulty of the historian, yet there is
required considerable exertion on his part to make an
ordinary reader conceive with perfect clearness the fea-
tures of a foreign country. The following are a few of
the requisites of historical composition, considered in
Hs purest form; or with as little reference as possible
to the expositions of doctrines and opiniors, and the
criticisms of character and conduct, that mix so largely
in the greater number of historical works : —

1. It is essential that the ground where the trans-
actions have occurred sRould be distinctljr pictured
forth at the outset, and miintaincd steadily in view by
the subsequent references; in othf r words, the geogra-
phy should be fully comprehend''^ by the reader before
commencing the history. There will, of course, be cer-
tain portions of the geography more pertinent to the
narrative than others, and those will naturally be the
most insisted on. Thus if the country subsists largely
upon ita minisg opRrationSi the mines muat be promi-

696

CHAMBBBffS INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

nently deicribed in the preliminaiy lurrey. With
regard to geographical description in general, in which
our ichoolbook* err deplorably, the principlea of de-
■cription already laid donm must be faithfully observed.
We must start with a oompreheiisiTe sketch of the
■urface, by stating the great outlines and the pron-.i-
nent central-points, and branch out from these in every
direction, in a regular order, and with constant reference
to the main features. The expanded space occupied by
the country should be steadily maintained in the view,
there beins a constant tendency in the uncultivated
mind to allow the territorial expanse to collapse into
a jumble of confused particulars, and thus destroy the
chief grandeur of the scene. The description of a coun-
try by a bare catalogue of its coasts, mountains, rivers,
islands, chief towns, &c. is to be considered as a gross
violation of every principle of descriptive or expository
art. In some of the larger geographical works, such as
Bitter's, and the articles on Oeography in the * Penny
Cyclopoedia,' the proper order of description is in gene-
ral well exemplified.

The full geographical detail includes, in addition to
the situation, features, and climate of the country,
the nature of the soil and strata, the vegetable and
animal life that flourish in it, and the population con-
■idered as to its race and connections with the great
human family.

2. The second principle of historical composition re-
lates to the tissue and substance of the narrative itself.
A hul"rp ought properly to be a leriet of pictures or cross
leetionsqfa nation's existence appropriately selected from
different epochs, with an intermediate narrative to ex-
plttin how the one became transformed into the other.

It is to be understood that mere existence does not
furnish matter for hiator^. If a people have gut them-
aeivM in^o a quiet routine of being born, growing up
in the e; ct footsteps of their fathers, and dying, to be
8ucceede<l by others like themselves, ftnd continuing
thus from (generation to generation without progress or
change — all that can be stated of such a people is, how
'^hey exist at any one time, or what are the incidents
of a single generation : there is no material for a con-
tinuous narrative. There are many societies yerj nearly
in this predicament : the Chinese are ar. example of a
people with a high civilisation, but with very little
tendency to change; and most of the savage tribes of
America and Africa, and the wandering hordes of Asia,
are still more destitute of the subject matter of a his-
tory. Progress, change, expansion, development, all
that we mean by civilisation, form the substantial
matters of historical narration.

The most prominent spectacle usually presented by
nations is their quarrels with their neighbours, with the
struggles and wars that ensue, artd liie loss or gain of
territory incident to contests. Every kind of strife, con-
tention, and combat, where large interests are at stake,
and the human powers exerted to their very utmost,
has an exciting effect on the beholder, and makes a
stirring narrative to a reader. The historian, anxious
to make his work as little dull as may be, is glad to
have such matters to throw into it; indeed they are
apt to be the chief things to seize his own attention.
Hence the real substancs of history has often been
concealed by the prominence of the exciting and
bustling drama of battle, victoiy, and death. The in-
ternal struggles of a nation for the possession of the
sovereign power have the same dramatic interest, in
addition to their importance in the real history of the
people.

Although it is ifnpossible to lay down a universal
formula fur historical composition, it may nevertheless
be shown that conveniently -chosen epochs for cross
sections, or complete pictures of the total life and ex-
istence of eauh people, ought '■o be the great divisions
of the history; and that the narrative should dart be-
tween these, so as to explain upon general laws of pro-
gross and change how one came to be transformed into
another. The selection of the epochs will be deter-
mined by the character of each case; the number of
698

them will b« greatest in the histories where progress
has been most rapid, as :n the history of Oreece; and
the period assumed must depend on the time that
would best represent a full and average natural exist-
ence. Ouizot's ' History of Civilisation in France' ex-
emplifies in some degree this choice of epochs for a
detailed picture of social existence.

The arrangement of the details of the entire exist-
ence of any one people is a matter of prime importance.
It is desirable that the plan should be as simple as the
subject admits of, and that one plan should be adhered
to as much as possible. If all historians could be made
to agree upon the same scheme of descriptive array,
the comparison of different peoples and different ages
and degrees of civilisation would be venr much facili-
tated. We shall here indicate the outline of an ar-
rangement which seems to be both natural and com-
prehensive ; —

The geography will have to be given once for all in
the first sketcn that is made; but as the conception of
geographical features is somewhat difficult to sustain,
repetitions and frequent references require to he intro-
duced here and there all through.

The geographical picture being supposed to be com-
plete up to the point uf describing the race and fea-
tures of the population, the detail of civilisation, or of
the arrangements instituted br the intelligence of the
people for improving and elevating their condition,
will commence. The first class includes the industrial
arts, or the arts of agriculture, mining, manufacturing,
commerce, &c. These express the mechanical action
of the people upon the material earth around them,
and will bo intimately related to the physical Geo-
graphy. The agricultural arrangements roust be^o-
vemed by the soil and climate; the mining by the
rocks; and the manufacturing by the raw material and
the facility for mechanical power; while the commer-
cial advancement depends on the means of easy convey-
anc.i by seas, rivers, &c.

The second portion of the picture might include the
art' of training or rearing living beings — vegetable,
animal, and human : the third vould refer to the
arts of health and healing: the fourth, the arts of
intercourse, or the arrangements to facilitate social
operations. The chief heads of this comprehensive
branch are — language, the forms of business, and eti-
quette; the arrangement of towns, markets, and places
of resort ; the classification of the population for easy
reference, as by directories, gazetteers, statistics. The
fifth branch is the government in all its parts and bear-
ings: the sixth includes the state of morality, in theory
and practice : the seventh, religion : eighth, the srien-
tific development of the people, or their acquisitions
in all the systematised branches of knowledge. Tbii.
is the great central feature of the civilisation of man-
kind taken as a whole. Ninth, the state of the fine
arts : tenth, the character of the literature : lastly,
the advances made in the art of living, or in all the
devices expressly adapted for enlivening and gratifying
the course of human existence.

It would require a lengthened illustration to do
justice to the exposition of any one of these heads ;
but, taken together, they seem to imply all that it is
desirable to know in reference to any one society.
When we go bock to past ages, it is difficult to recovvr
the desired information, so as to complete the picture
of a bygone epoch. But the possession of some general
scheme of this character is essential to the historian,
in order to give him a distinct hold of the desiderata
of research, and to enable him to find a p'jwe for every-
thing that comes under his notice. The mutual de-
pendence of all the great branches of social dxistenco
supplies a check to test the accuracy of statements, as
well as a means of inferring what is not separately
known; and this mutual dependence is most evident
when a natural arrangemont of the subjects is arrived at.
One of the best examples of the detailed analysis
and portraiture of a people at some one epoch is
afforded in the first book of Mill's < History of British

ItHETOBtC AND BSLLDS LETTRES.

India.* The display of the inatitutioni and whole
existence of the Hindoos in that book will render the
■cope of the above remarks perfectly intelligible to any
one desirous of studying tne subject. So little hare
the Hindoos changed witnin historical periods, that Mr
Mill finds one display of their exintence to be suffi-
cient ; but in a growing country, the array of social
existence would have to be gone over more than once.
In England there are various epochs that could be fixed
upon : a Saxon epoch, a Norman epoch, one at the
reign of Elizabeth, a Puritan epoch, and one in the
early half of the last century, would be essential ; and
a considerable amount of explanatory narration would
be requisite to connect each of these with the preceding
in the way of causation.

These remarks refer to the total march of an entire
people, and apply only in a small degree to partial
histories, such as histories of science, art, commerce,
medicine, &c.; but wherever the stream of events is
massive or complicated, the plan of treating it by well-
chosen cross delineations is advisable.

History, from the largeness of its subject, is capable
of a very wide variety of treatment; and many suc-
cessful works have been produced, both in ancient and
in modem times, although with very different kinds of
merit. It is not a little remarkable that the oldest
historical composition ot paga' »ntiquity — the work
of Herodotus — should come up niore nearly than almost
any production that could be named to the standard
of composition now laid down upon the most advanced
scieutific considerations that we are able to bring to
bear upon the subject. In that great epitome of the
ancient world, all the nations known to a Qrc-i>k iU'
quirer of the fifth century before Christ are p.oiured
forth with vividness and precision, and the classifica-
tion of details is quite equal to anything employed in
the greater number of works of subsequent ages.

Of recent historical com])ositions, 'Mill's British
India' is the greatest English work, viewed according
to the exposition now given of the proper tissue and
structure of history. ' Guizot's History of Civilisation
in France ' is the most remarkable foreign production
on the same model. The ' History of Greece,' now in
course of publication by Mr Grote, promises to be a
work worthy of the greatest people that has yet ap-
peared on tike face of the globe.

Exposition.
This brings us to a mode of address different from
any that we have as yet alluded to — namely, the ex-
pression of scientific truth, or of the great laws and
uniformities of the appearances and events that may
be discovered in the worl-i. If the laws and succes-
sions of nature's phenomena appeared on the surface
of things, or were as open to ordinary observation as
the course of the seasons, or the different scenes of a
theatrical performance, then a plain nmration would
be sufficient to indicate the stream of cause and effect,
or the laws of natural phenomena. So, if the unifor-
mities of coexistence, the attributes that always accom-
pany one another by the ordination of nature — such as
tho properties thU join together in a vegetable, an
animal, or a metal — were as ap, arent as the furniture
of a household, or the array of a mountain prospect,
then ordinary description would suffice for the exposi-
tion of nature's profoundest collocations. But it so
happens that neither ordinary na'ration nor ordinary
description is sufficient to express scientific truth, or
the comprehensive laws and secret processes of creation.
Such is the structure of the universe, that an artificial
machinery of expression, having often very little to do
with the obvious appearances of things, is required to
embrace it by the understanding, and to make it
known to other men's minds.

The artificial machinery of language suited for the
expression of science is fully explained in our number
on L<^'';c; and it belongs to that science to pronounce
on the accuracy and sufficiency of any form of lan-
guage to contain ligorooa scientific truth. The nature

of abstractions, 'kfinitioni, propositions, and clossifloa*
tions, is thoreiM ser> forth. And to Ithetoric belongs,
not the art of attaining true abstractions and propo-
sitions, but the method of shaping them for easy com-
munication and difiiision among men. The natural
mind, which can easily adapt itself to supet^cioL nar-
ration and description, finds the comprehension of
scientific views hard and unpalatable; and although
these contain in a very short compass a boundless
range of insight into the world, and give the power of
explaining complicated appearances, of predicting the
future, and of finding means for the working out of
aesirable ends, yet such is the difficulty experience in
acquiring possession of them, that high scientifio attain-
ments have hitherto been among the least usual of
numan acquisitions. The progress of science on the
one hand, which in many respects tends to simplicity,
and of rhetorical method and expository devices on
the other, tend to make scientific truths more attain-
able by the mass of men.

It has been sufficiently explained under Logic that
there are two kinds of Kience — the pure or abstract,
and the mixed or concrete : the one has reference to
the distinct kinds of phenomena that the world pre-
sents — such 08 phenomena of quantity, considered in
mathematics ; of force and motion in mechanics ; of
heat, light, electricity, &c. in physics ; of atomic affi-
nity in chemistry ; of vital properties in physiology ;
and lastly, of mind and social agencies in the great
sciences of humanity. The other, or the mixed sciences
— such as geology — do not confine themselves to a single
class of pure natural phenomena, but lay hold of some
local or practical department of nature, where two or
three different primary forces may be at work. Thus
geology involves mechanical, physical, chemical, and
vital forces, all taken together. So the practical
science of engineering brings together mathematics,
mechanics, .>hy8ics, and chemistry, to attain some
gross practical end. It will be seen that the mixed
sciences deal with matter more in the lump than in the
case of the others ; hence they come more nearly within
the scope of ordinary description c/ narration. Unless
they are treated of solely by combining the machinery
of the pure sciences, they are the more intelligible
and popular of the two kmds. Natural history is the
designation of a whole nest of concrete or mixed
sciences ; and if they are kept apart from the deep
considerations of the pure sciences of physics, chemis-
try, and life, that serve for their complete explanation,
they are calculated to be highly popular.

The leading maxims to be observed in the exposition
of the abstract sciences— such as mathematics, physics.

Jlcc. — must he ruled by the consideration, that each of
them contains a series of artificial notions or concep-
tions that can work themselves into the human brain
only by a slow and deliberate process. Hence the strict-
est orderliness must be observed in arranging their
constituent ideas, so that each may be presented only
after all others necessary for conceiving it have been
fully mastered. Scientific acquisition is a work of
severe discipline ; and the simplest steps should be
securely fixed before any attempt is made to go beyond
them. The art of the teacher lies wholly in attending
to this. The greater nupiber of the abstract sciences
fall properly to be taught by the schoolmaster, and not
by unassisted books. But when it is desired to make
science possessible by a reader going through a book
at an ordinary pace, the following procedure must be
adopted : —

1. The propositions or abstract notions must be
stated in the clearest possible form.

2. Each proposition may be expressed in two or three
various forms of language, but there should be_ some
one form adopted for remembering it by. A vivid epi-
grammatic statement of a propositio, either before, or
to sum up and condense, the exposition, is always very
effective, and indeed necessary for the sake of the
memory.

3. It being understood that only one proposition or

697

oHAUBmurs intobbiaiioh roB thb feoplb.

kbitraotion in lUtad ftt a time, «Mh mutt be followed up
by » teriu of txtmpUt or initancei choien from tbintfi
fiuuilwr to tbe render. The example* tX fint ihourd
be extremely aimple, but in the end tLoy should be>
come more difficult, io m to ihow the power of the
principle to throw light upon them.

4. Betidec etplaitiir.g by examplee or oasei in point,
we may explain by iUtutratiim, or by limilei or pa-
rallel!, <Vom lome claw of lubjecti more palpable to
tLe undentandifig than the one treated of ; ai when
we illuitrate the conflict of motives in an individual
mind by the riiible contests of animal strength. The
caution in the use of illustratiuus is to see that they do
not bring in confusing ideas.

The writer of a manual for schools, or of such a
book as Euclid's ' Elements,' gives a whole string of
definitions, containing strange and unfamiliai notions,
without the slightest pause; but the popular writer
must take care to bring on upon the stage only one
new notion, or technical phrase at a time ; and each
must be spread out, repeated, exemplified, and illus-
trated, by easy exposition, before the writer ventures
upon a second. One of the great burthens and pains
of human life, is to work with half knowledge or half
capacity; and this is never more felt than wiih the
reader of a scientific book, where novel conceptions
flow in upon him faster than he can fix them.

It has been thought that the concrete objects of the
world are not sufficiently kept before the mind in ab-
stract expositions. This is true to a certain extent;
for the doctrines of addition, subtraction, multiplica-
tion, &c. and the theory of decimal notatiot-, which is
the entire foundation of arithmetic, might be rendered
much more intelligible by the use of objects — such as
wooden cubes made up into rows and squares. Thia
method has been earned out in the system of Pesta-
lozii. On the other hand, the necessity there y* for
creating ciphers, symbols, and other artificial apparatus,
shows that we are committed to a peculiar region of
things; and we must make up our minds to comprehend
and use the abstractions tiiemselves, independently of
the concrete forms. In the most popular scientific book
of uur day, Dr Aniott's work on Physics, where concrete
illu^ration is carried as far as it has ever been in an
abstract exposition, the author, instead of proceeding
gradually from the concrete to the abstract, finds that
the nature of his subject requires him to olace at the
very threshold the four most abstract notions that his
subject contains — namely, atom, inertia, attraction, re-
pulsion; and he calls upon his reader to comprehend
these as a preliminary to all the rest.

In the other class of sciences — such as Natural His-
tory, Geography, Morals, &c. which, instead of being
universal and theoretical in their subjects, are more or
less either local or practical — a different style of treat-
ment is poHsible. In the exposition of these there are
two great maxims never to be lost sight of: —

1. In endeavouring to make the reader comprehend
a class of objects — of animals, trees, shrubs, rocks,
strata, or whatever else — it is essential to fix the atten-
tion first upon some one actual specimen, and to de-
scribe it on all sides, with such a degree of expli-
citnen and fulness, that the entire object shall be com-
pletely familiar to his mind< This being once done,
other individuals can be defined and made known by
their differences from the typical one; and whole classes
can be chalked out and discriminated. If one indivi-
dual has been thoroughly conceived in all its parts, then
eveiy other individual may be conceived with the same
fulness when its difference is made known. Thus the
knowledge of the vertebrate series of animals is best
secured by a profound acquaintance with the human
anatomy:' this once achieved, it requires only an at-
tention to the points of distinction to have an equally
profound and thorough acquaintance with every indivi-
dual of the vast series. Now that a univenal nomen-
clntur: has been completed by the labours of Professor
Owen, such a transition from the human tjrpe to the
rertebrate leriet it rendered a comparatively easy task.
698

But the grasp of the whole will never be lecnre unleii
the knowledge of the typical itutatw is certain.

2. In bringing before us some object thai can be
represented only by a series of descriptive reforences
to other things, it is necessary to commence with the
known, and proceed bv known connections to body
forth the unknown. The exact state of mind, in re-
spect to knowledge, and interest or likings of the per-
son addressed, must be clearly kept in view. The in-
terest of a description increases by the number of ways
that it connects itself with our peiional experience.
ThuD to describe a manufacturing process — say the ma-
nufacture of soda — the method is to commence it at
the stage where tbd hearer is familiar with the things
employed — namely, at tbe employment of sea-salt and
oil of ritriol — anci then give every successive action in
language that recalls familiar objects.

The description of animals is rendered intelligible
and interesting by dwelling upon the points that nave
a parallel in Tiuman life ; as on where they get their
living, how often they eat, when they uleep, now they
spend their day, the length of their life, their hardahipa
and difficulties, their pairing, procreation, and pareutal
solicitudes, their faculties and capacities, their means
of defence and offence. The vegetable and mineral
world has an interest by ^-slation to human uses and
wants, as well as to the uses of the animal creation st
large. If there is any animal or vegetable familii^ to
us — such as our household quadrupeds and insects —
the naturalist has a good hold on our attention, if he
wishes to lead u« into the hidden mLnutise of their
structure and existence. The natural hiitory of house-
hold animals would make a work of univenal and
unfailing interest.

Besides the subjects slightly alluded to in the fol
going remarks, exposition includes a vast range of
compositions in politics, law, theology, morals, and
many other sciences, besides the wide domain of prac-
tical business, where it is required along with the other
literary efforts of nanaticn and description.

PEBSDA8I0N.

We are now to consider the forms of address suitable
to influencing the conduct o.' activity of men. In addi-
tion to the spontaneous impulses of any given indivi-
dual, there are many ways of acting upon him from
without that are equally effectual in determining what
he shall do or abstain from doing. He may be made
to act through external compulsion, for example, or
by the command of his superior, which is moral com-
pulsion. But apart from these, he may be led into
action by sympathy with others, and likewise by the
influence of the mere will and presence 6{ one who has
no means either of coercing or of commanding. But
persuasive address diflfers from all these modes of in-
ducing action upon human beings. It implies that
some course of conduct shall be so described or ex-
pressed as to coincide, or be identified, with the active
impuiies of the individuals addressed, and thereby
command their adoption of it by the force of their oim
natural dispositions. A leader of banditti has under
him a class of persons whose predominant impulse is
the attainment of plunder; and it becomes his business
to show them that any scheme that he desires them to
carry out will achivve this object. A people with on
intense overpowerikig patriotism, like the old Romans,
can be acted on by showing that the good of their
country is at stake. A Christian assembly is supposed
to be capable of being roused into action by tbe pro-
spect of extending the power and, influence of Chris-
tianity in the world. In a comprehensive survey of
the Art of Persuasion, the following things deserve to
be considered : —

1. The ends most usually sought by means of per-
suasive address. These are innumerable in their detail,
but the purposes of an exposition will be served by
singling out a few of the more piuminent. In the orato-
rical professions of the preacher, the pleader, the leader
of political aaemblles, tli« ntwspaper witter, there m«

cines.

experime
ledge of :
men, am:
them, an
being ace
it is onlj
and sym;
in quest!

tlHETORIO AND BKLLES LETTREH.

oerUin well-known object! lougbt to be attained. In
oppoiition to individual e^utinna and peculiaritieii, it
ii deiired to induce a coune of action conducive to the
intereiti of the world, or the community at largo, or
of lome part or tection thereof, or, it may be, of some
■ingle ptrion. In moral and religioui address, tho
larger and nobler ends of one'a being are sought to be
impreMed and made predominant over present and
passing impulses. At other times, the thing aimed at
js to make the reason, which embraces the coniprehrn-
■ire good of the whole, to prevail over the passioai d
instincts. It is often desired to produce belief '.> con-
Tictioa in men ; which means, not immediate action,
but a general disposition to act in a particular way
wlMn certain occaaiond arise; as when we wish to prove
thkt the most effective liind of local government is a
combination of local authority with the wisdom ard
experience supplied by a central power. And when
men are a^^reed aa to the thing that they should do,
much dispute roav arise as to the manner of doing it;
and the author of each different scheme has to devise
ways and means of carrying the minds of the audience
with his proposal in preference to the others. There
can be no doubt as to the highest and noblest ends of
persuasion — which are to sway the minds of men ia
favour of the universal, the eternal, and the true, as
opposed to the sectarian, the temporary, and the false.
To induce men to act upon a delusion is a poor triumph.
The projectors of bubbles, the inventors of quack medi-
cines, the dealer in puffery and unsubstantial commo-
dities, the panderers to the mob, are all highly persua-
sive with little art ; it being one of the weaknesses of
humanity to bo impressed by dazzling hopes and pro-
spects. It requires greater genius and skill to induce
men to adopt what will succeed in the end.

Although the usual end of persuasive address is to
turn the existing dispositions of men to some imme-
diate account, it yet falls within the scope of such ad-
dress to inflame and cultivate the dispositions them-
selves, as in the work of the preacher and teacher.

2. It is essential to persuasion that the speaker
should be accurately acquainted with the minds and
dispositions of his hearers. The perception of character
is indispensable to an orator's success : if he mistake
his audience, he cannot hope to move them by his
address. This thorough knowledge of character is an
attainiFent come at in various ways. The primitive
source of our knowledge of our fellows is the conscious-
ness of ourselves, and the assumption that other per-
sons are made after the same fashion. A clear and
vivid consciousness of self— that self being abundantly
rich and varied — is the foundation of all accurate
knowledge of other men's minds. Next to it is sym-
pathy, which implies that we readily fall into the states
of mind indicated by the outward expression given
forth by those about us. Like the primitive conscious-
ness of self, this differs very much in different indivi-
duals. It is the chief uorrective of the false assump-
tion that all other men are exactly whu,i/ wc find our-
selves to be. The third source of knowledge, and the
next to sympathy as a means of enlarging the uanow
primitive conception, is the steady observation of men's
whole actions and wavs, and of everything that shows
their dispositions and characters. We have to note
the things that attract and repel them, their usual
incentives to action, together with their own expression
of what influences and guides them. We can go still
farther, and experiment upon all these points by en-
deavouring ourselves to control their actions by suit-
able management. This combined observation and
experiment is the usual recognised source of a know-
ledge of mankind. Abundant opportunities of seeing
men, and acting with them, against them, and on
them, are supposed to be the true and only means of
being accomplished in this knowledge. But, after all,
it is only a valuable supplement of self-consciousness
and sympathy. The fourth source of the knowledge
in question is furnished by the generalised laws and
properties of mind included in the science of mind.

But for the purposes of oratory, u practised b our day,
this source of knowledge need not at present be dis-
cussed. It is evident, on the whole, that a clear con-
sciousness, sympathy, and observation of the impulses
and active dispositions of men, confirmed by rejieated
experimenting upon those very dispositions, are indis-
pensable to persuasive addres«.

It is a necessary consequence of this knowledge that
it should enable a person rapidly to diwem a character
from its appearances, so as to perceive the dispositions
of strangers in a very short time, and to trace instan-
taneously the effects produced on an audience in the
exercise of the oratorical art.

3. Next to a distinct end, and a thorough perception
of the moving forces of the assemblage to be wrought
upon, comes the great constructive procets of the art,
which is so to shape the statement of the end, that it
mav connect itself with the most powerful impulses
and convictions of the party addressed. The capacity
for this must spring from a rich and accomplished
mind, able to discern all the connections and aspects
of a subject that are likely to touch the motives or
coincide with the dispositions of an audience. Thus, if
we examine Milton's apology for unlicensed printing,
we shall find that the vast range and compass of his
knowledge and conceptions enabled him to lay out
with unparalleled fertility the whole subject of the
connection of a free press with the welfare and the ele-
vation of the human kind. Wo may find men more
at home in adapting a subject to the exact standard of
the ordinary class of minds, so as to be capable of
securing a great extent of practical conviction; but
nowhere has any one addressed with more varied and
powerful pursuasives all that is high, generous, and
noble in humanity, than Milton in this instance. A
genuine, practical, business orator would not have
struck so high a key; hifl object being to gain an end
solely, he would have confined his arguments and ad-
dress to that side of his audience that they could be
dravm by. The puccessful pleaders at the bar furnish
the best examples of this last species of oratory.

It being assumed that fertility of intellectual views,
with a capability of expressing them in language, are
at the basis of persuasive power, it is possible, never-
theless, to assign the precise peculiarities of art which
affect a speaker's success. The ancients were well
aware of the necessitv of a wide general cultivation to
make an orator, while they at the same time pointed
out the conditions that had to be superadded in order
to successful address. Thuce conditions will likewise
serve to indicate the preuiso nature of the capacity and
cultivation that best contributo to oratorical efficiency,
so as to discriminate between these and the talents and
acquirements that point more expressly to other intel-
lectual excellences: —

1, The persuasive mode of composition wam fre-
quently be based on some of the preceding modes of
simple communication — namely, narration, description,
and exposition — but in such a case, these will be so
shaped as to influence the minds of the persons ad-
dressed towards some particular end. Thus the narra-
tion of the facts in an ordinary law-pleading is usually
v'wnducted so as to produce a bias in favour of one side;
the circumstances that have this tendency being put
prominently forward, while the others are kept in the
shade. In like manner the exposition of doctrines or
principles is involved in a great number of the attempts
at persuasion. A beautiful example of an exposition,
conducted with high oratorical effect, is furnished in
the following extract from one of tho speeches of De-
mosthenes. It professes to be a definition of Law : —

• The whole life of men, whether the state they live
in be great or small, is govemfid either by Nature or
by Law. Nature is irregular and capricious; Law is
definite, and the same to all. When the natural dis-
position is evil, it frequently urges to crimes; but the
laws aim at the just, tne good, and the fit: these they
search out, and when determined, they publish as the
regulations to be followed by every one alike. To these

699

OHAHBlBffS IKVOBlLLnON FOB THB I^EOPLE.

obadione* mnit b« r«id«red on many ffroundi ; but
most of all on thin — that law it the invention and gift
qf tkt god*, thi reiolutimt n/ prudent mm, the norrector
i^f voluntary or invotuntarif wrong-doert, and the deter-
miualion of the ttat* at large, which li ntceuarily bind-
ing on all it* eitixent.'

Here the high function and claim* of law are itated
and enforced by being allied with the most coniniand-
ing and auguit lonctiona that the world can furniih.

The following it a modem instance of the tame mode
of addreM, where an expoiition ii the baiii of an ap-
peal to the convictioni and active principlei of men. It
ii on the subject of ilarery; and the author (Robert
Hall) intends to produce in his readers a strong feeling
of hostility to the slave system by a mere exptjition
of its essential character: —

' That slavery is the most deplorable condition to
which human nature can be reduced, is too evident to
require the labour of proof. By subjecting one human
being to the absolute control of another, it annihilates
the most essential prerogative of a reasonable being,
which consists in the power of determining his own
actions in every instance in which they are not injurious
to others. The right improvement of this prerogative
is the source of aU the virtue and happiness of which
the human race is susceptible. Slavery introduces the
most horrible confusion, since it degrades human beings
from the denomination of persons to that of things;
and by merging the interests of the slave in those of
the master, he becomes a mere appendage to the ex-
istence of anotlier, instead of preserving the dignity
which belongs to a reasonable and accountable nature.
Knowledge and virtues are foreign to his state : igno-
rance the most gross, and dispositions the most de-
praved, are requisite to reduce him to a level with his
condition.'

2. ArgViinent, or proof, which is the medium of bring-
ing the conviction of truths home to men's minds,
must be a frequent means of persuasion. If the persons
addressed were always of a strictly logical turn of in-
tellect, then the soundest reasons would be the most
persuasive; and the rhetorical method would strictly
coincide with the logical. But as thi > is not the case,
there are various resources used in the statement of
arguments that do not belong to the rigorous demon-
stration. Indeed there are certain devices, known by
the name of arguments, that do not in any degree
imply proof— as the argwmentum ad hominem, and the
arguntentum ad verecwidiam, or appeal to authority,
neither of which concern the absolute truth of the
question at stake. It is very common also to appeal
to the inconsistency of some practice, or to show the
impossibility of carrying out the principle in all cases.
This ought to have more weight than it usually has
with the mast of men, who care for immediate objects
more than for .':;;;>, tius thoroughgoing consistency.

In conducting a chain of arguments, it is usual to
begin with a full and explicit statement of everything
that is admitted by all parties. There is a great ad-
vantage in doing this, as it may be possible to shape
such a statement so as to suggest inferences of use to
the cause in hand.

There is always a powerful effect produced by stating
a cose so OS to appear not only highly credible and pro-
bable, but also exceedingly plautibk, which is done by
niakiag the whole case appear to coincide with the
familiar experience and natural expectations of the
hearers.

3. Another important device consists in summing up
an exposition or a chain of reasoning iu some short or
epigrammatic statement, that will be remembered and
cumulated. Such statements are adapted to cling to
the mind when the whole of a diffuse explanation has
vanished. * Property has its rights as well as its duties,'
is a good example. Something of the same effect is
produced by compositions that all centre upon some
one or a f.w distinct ideas that are repeated and ii.i-

Eressed by every part of tb<j illustration, Dr Chalmers
as largely exemplified tail mode of exposition and
700

I persuasion; Malthus's work on population Is also a
' remarkable instance of the concentration of a largo
mass of illustration upon one idea, and the etlbct upon
the reader is correspondingly powerful. Thi' science of
Astronomy in any exposition that does it justice has
the same effect; it being the working out of the one
great idea of Gravitation.

4. The mode of demeanour observed by a speaker
or writer, although not relevant to the soundness of his
arguments, is important in regard to the effect that
they may produce upon tho persons addressed. This
is one of the many considerations as to acting on tho
feelings, which have to be set forth in a treatise on the
whole art of persuasion. The chief point respecting
demeanour, is to avoid the appearanqe of dictation
or command when addressing people who are free to
adopt or reject the proposals recommended to them.
Dictation, with the majority of men, raises a feeling
hostile to the speaker; whereat, by a respectful tone of
address, by hinting and tuggeiiting, instead of com-
manding, a prepossession is created in favour of what
is urged.

6. The foregoing remark illustrates only one of a
comprehensive class of requirements of persuasive ad-
dress — namely, those referring to the repression of the
peculiar feelings and egotistic peculiarities of the
speaker, in so far as they clash with hit objects. It is
one of the standing weaknesses of men to bo com-
pletely occupied and engrossed each one with his own
feelings, and to assume that these are not incompa-
tible with other people's feelings or peculiarities. In
the whole intercourse of life, repression of self and
regard to other men's likings are essential, but most of
all in the attempts that ono person makes to influ^r.ce
the wills of others. We are apt to assume that what
impresses ourselves will impress our fellows ; and it
requires a cool observation of the effects that we ac-
tually produce on other men's minds, to convince us
that we are mistaken in this matter. The success of
a speaker will be determined in a great measure by
his ability to restrain himself, and assume the exact

fioint of view, as well as the peculiar likings and dis-
ikings, of his audience.

6. The known character and dispositions of a speaker
have always a high influence. The respect entertained
for him, the belief in the integrity and soundness of
his judgments, and the affection and attachment that
he IS al)le to inspire, are well known to be conducive
to the weight of his address.

7. There may bu a special attempt made to induce a
favourable state of mind in the bearers towards the
speaker. He may expressly lay himself out to indulge
their known tastes, likings, and humours, and to adapt
himself to their peculiarities and habits. He may, for
example, adopt a homely familiar style in addressing
the uneducated, and in all cases shape his appeal so
at to touch the favourite associations of whatever class
he has to deal with.

8. The mere action of sympathy goes some way in
every address— that is to say, there is a tendency in
every man to give way to the expressed feelings of
another when no obstacle stands in the way : conse-
quently a speaker who feels and expresses his feelings
intensely, has an influence through this sympathetic
action, or by a sort of infection or contagion ; and with
an audience not indisposed to fall into the current of
his emotion, he may be extremely effective. All men
of naturally strong earnest emotions, coupled with the
adequate power of expression or infection, have been
powerful orators.

The expressed will and energetic determination of a
roan hat always great weight in affairs, from the dispo-
sition of men to succumb to heavy pressure, when they
are not sufficiently excited to resist it. It is a matter
of daily observation in assemblies, that a man of strong
persevering will carries a great many points that would
not be conceded to a person less boisterous and trouble-
some: mere physical strength of voice and gesture
contribute to thii effect.

PHETORIO AND BELLES LETTRE8.

It !i eonttanlly iMti In the world that thero are men
nud women of naturally powerful and commanding
jtreimo*, who have a far greater facility in bending the
willf of thoie about them than other people who are
equally knowing and talented. Teacher*, heads of
familiei, penone in authority, are occaiionally met
with haring the natural gift of lecuring obedieni-e from
mere pprsonal aicondancy , and the lame bodily con-
itituti> .. haa its intluunco in addreaiing niultitudei.
liord Chatham wa« evidently an example of a man of a
great natural ascendancy of character, apart altogether
from the value of his ideas or the iutrinaio wcijjht of
his language.

It has been found that boldness and loudness of
assertion go for something with an audience, however
little the assertion may be supuortod by evidence or
proof. Loud-spoken praise on tne one hand, or ener-
getic denunciation and abuse on the other, are never
altogether devoid of influence.

0. There are certain of the strong emotions of huma-
nity that ma^ be singled out us having great power in
producing active impulses when they are once brought
into play. Pity, tenderness, compauion, and the warm
affections, when roused in favour of a cause, will be
found to be strong auxiliaries. In like manner, the
ludicrous — humour, mirth, and .idicule — have very
great influence. To these wo may add the passions of
anger, resentment, and indignation, which may be
roused, by appropriate representations of a case, to the
very great damage of the person or cause against whom
they are directed.

10. The gratifying of the emotions of taste and of
the love ot oniament and beauty, is a useful accom-
paniment of the persuasive art, and disposes the
nearers in favour of the speaker. An ornate speaker
like Burke, or a writer like Kacon, will gain infiuen.:e
over a class of minds by the enjoyment that each of
them imparts throu h their style and treatment. The
highest poetic art i> ay be brought in aid of an argu-
ment; and an appeal to the taste may go a great way,
ns well as an appeal to the heart or the head. The
author of enjoyment will always gain influence over
the people that he delights, and he may use this influ-
ence to suit his other purposes.

11. There is a certam kind of persuasive address that
so completely enters into the heart and feelings and
entire being of an audience, that it carries them away
as if by irresistible enchantment. If a speaker has the
power of inspiring this overwhelming enthusiasm in
the minds of an audience, he may do with thent as he
pleases; he works not by reason, but by infatuation.
By intensely exciting and gratifying all the powerful
impulses and most exquisite susceptibilities of an indi-
vidual or a multitude, such an inestimable boon is
conferred upon them, that the author of the enchant-
ment may ask what he will, and it will be given him.
Men will rush with eagerness to listen to a speaker or
to join a cause that can inspire all their highest emo-
tions to the utmost pitch. In our too often dull and
tame existence, any system of doctrines and rites,
whether religious, moral, political, or scientific, that
can impart a spiritual intoxication, will command fol-
lowers. Indeed an orator or leader can hardly expect
to be extensively popular without some power of in-
spiring an enthusiasm of feeling or sentiment on the
side of his cause. It is this that properly constitutes
eloquence, A spiritual reward has to be given in return
for obedience. The influence of an orator is thus of a
piece with the influence of a favourite or an object of
affection; au influence, not of reason, but jf fascina-
tion, infatuation. When such powers of fascination
concur with truth and right, they are an inestimable
bleseing to the world.

The progress of civilisation modifies the tone of ora-
tory and eloquence by changing the tempers and aims
of men's murJs. In a rude primitive age, the passions
required to be strongly roused ; but in an advanced
period of the world, and in calm, settled, routine, com-
loitable times, cautious prudence and worldly interest

exert a powerful sway, and require to b« kept In view
in persuasive efforts.

POKTIC AND LITEkAIlT ART.

The compositions that go under the name of poetry
are so various, that a diiiiculty has been experienced
ill '!> lurmining what feature is common to them all.
'i'ho metrical form is evidently not the boundary of the
species, as there are many compositions in prose that
are felt to have a highly-poetical character, while many
that are cast in a metrical dress do not deserve to be
ranked in the class.

The definition given by Coleridge, if it does not com-
pletely narrow the idea of poetry to its strict limits,
at least goes a groat way to do so. According to him,
poetry is the contrast, not of prose, but of science.
Science analyzes and separates the appearances of
nature into their ultimate and indivisible parts; in
other words, it deals in abstractions, and in certain
artificial modes of viewing the world that are adapted
foi explaining the order of cause and effect, or invari-
able conjunction therein; while poetry deals in aggre-
gates or combinations, and endeavours to produce such
combinations as are of a harmonious kind. Science deals
with a n-..<jestic river by resolving it into the forces of
gravitation, cohesion, liquidity, optical transparency,
solubility, &c.; poetry, in common with painting, view*
it in its full body and entiri aspect, and instead of de-
composing, eombmei it with other objects of the land-
scape. To harmonise combinations of different objects
and effects is the aim of art in every region ; to harmo-
nise the image* and thoughts that can be conveyed by lan-
guage with one another, and with the language itself, **
a general description of the poetic art, But in accom-
plishing its end, poetry has to select appropriate sub-
jects; H)r it is not everything expressible in language,
however harmonious, that will constitute the matter
of a true poem. Accordingly, there is a certain range
of materials adapted for poetic treatment, and repro-
duced in the literatures of all ages : being the objects
in the outer world, and the occurrenceb and situations
of human life that most profoundly stir and agitate
the minds of men. The eternal struggle of humanity
with the world around, and the dread powers above;
the tragedy and the triumph of human life; the all-
ruling passion of love, and the intense aspirations of
men towards the great, the lofty, and the infinite; the
magnificence, the variety, the complexity, and the
mystery of nature and of being; the divinities that are
recognised as ruling in the sphere of the supernatural;
the great aspects and scenery of the firmament above,
and of the earth beneath; the revolutions of time and
seasons; the mode of existence, the achievements and
the vicissitudes of human societies, and of their leaders
and heroic men; the great conflicts and struggles that
decide the fate of nations; the exertions of the superior
minds of the race to carry forward human progress and
civilisation ; the powerful contrasts presented in human
life; and, in general, all objects that address themselves
to the feelings and susceptibilities that we term sub-
lime, awful, grand, venerable, beautiful, melodious,
pathetic, stirring, humorous, or picturesque. The mere
vulgar utilities of life, although indispensable to the
existence of men, and therefore the objects of their
solicitude, do not stir and occupy their entire being so
effectually as these matters of extraneous interest, and
are not included amon^ poetic subjects. The exclu-
sion also extends to scientific abstractions and tech-
nicalities, to tables of logarithms, calculations of an-
nuities, and atomic weights, although expressing some
of the gravest facts of creation.

No better short example of the peculiar matter of
poetry, adorned with the highest felicity of treatment,
could be given than in the following lines : —

< How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank !
Bore will wo sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our cars ; soft atillncas and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

701

CHAHBnurs nrromfATiON for the pioplb.

■It, J«Mt<« I look how the floor of hMvon
!• think inlitbl with pntlnoa of brliiht kmM |
llMra'i nut the •mitUrat urb which Ihuu bcholiloxt,
But In hU inctlon llko sn aiiRst •Iiiri,
BtlU qulrloff to tbo jruuogayotl uharubliiu'

Th« metrical form of language hai always been felt to
be the apprupriato aceompaiiiinent of a certain elevation
of lubjeut; while the prueo form luiti a itate of mind
nioro free and compoaed, a« in the ordinary routine
buiineii of life. Ai the dance it to walking, lo ii the
poetical moaiure to proie. Hut linco the ago when
proae began to bo a tuna of literary cotiipoiition, and
to be cultivated with artiatio ikill, innumerable works
have been produced which have aeizod upon the flttott
■ubiecti of poetry, and embodied them with a dreii
and treatment auch ai to produce elfeota equal to the
flueat metrical compoaitiona. The ipeechei, hiatoriea,
and moral and critical worka of the ancienta, which,
along with poetry, oonatituted their polite literature,
are lulcquate to produce the aame deep intenae human
intereat that ia aought in the groateat productiona of
poetic geniua. And in modern times there are large
claases of proae worka that draw upon the sources of
higheat poetic emotion, and differ only from poems in
departing from the measured statelinoss of metre to
adopt a freer and more varied flow of melodious expres-
sion. The whole of our romances, novels, and unversifled
plays, together with much of our history, biography,
criticism, sermons, and moral disquisitions, are distin-
guished by the poetical, in opposition to the utilitarian
or scientific aim, and endeavour to stir, cultivate, and
inspire the warm susceptibilities and generous enthu-
siasm of humanity.

Among the many varieties of poetical composition,
there are a few that are marked by wido characteristic
disti&ctioui which deserve to be specially alluded to.

Lyrlo rootry or Song.
This !s undoubtedly the most primitive of all literary
compositiona. The strong predominating feeling of a
moment — whether love, heroic resolve, angor, exulta-
tion, courage, admiration, grief — in a mind gifted with
the outpouring of soii(^, expresses itself in fervid and
lofty phrase, which thrills the ears and hearts of men,
inspiring them with the like emotion. It is, however,
only a very select and limited clou of minds whose
crcativencss takes the lyric form, and they are often
incapable of any of the other great poetic etforts. But
if we range over the extant literature of the world, we
shall find that the most exquisite ctiusions of song
have never been wanting to any cultivated people. The
Jews, Greeks, and liomans have contributed a large
proi>oriion of those that still delight our modern ears.
England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Uenuanv, Italy,
Spain, have each produced lyric poets of the finest
mould ; and in all these countries the mass of the
people, who are too rarelv reached by works of genius,
have had their lives cheered, enlivened, and invi-
gorated by congenial song.

As an exquisite example of the matter of song, and
of the cheering turn that it can give to our views of
life, we quote the following from Qoethe, as translated
by Cailyle. The title is ' The Freemaaou : '•—

• The maann'B ways arc
A typo of Existi-noc,
And his pcrslfitcnce
In as the dayii are
Of men In this world.

The fiittiro hidua In it
Good hap and Borrow ;
Wo press atiU tliurough—
Maught that abides in it
Daunting us — onward.

And BoIcDin before ui
Veiled the dark portal.
Goal of all mortal:
Btars silent rest o'er ui,
Onvcs under us silent.
702

Hut hiwnl are th« voloM,

Vulo* of tb« M(M|

Tha world and th«.a8M|
ChousD well; yuur uhulm Is
Jlrkf, and yut tiudlnM.

Iters eyes do behold you
In eternity's •tillness ;
Here Is all fulnuM,
Ye bravK, to reward yous
Work, and despair not.'

Epto Poetry.

The epic poem or stirring narrative, with its 'b«.
ginning, middle, and end,' its regular development and
appropriate conclusion, which, when recited in early
timea by the wandering rhapsodist, himself perhaps tho
composer, |>roved the charm of many a social hearth or
assembled village, has in these latter davs been trans-
formed into the novel or romance, Hir Walter Hcutt,
for example, has come in place of Homer ; ' Don
Qaixote' is a modern j'Enoid; and for 'Paradise Lost*
and 'Uegained,' we have 'Zanoni' or ' Wilhelm Meit-
ter's Apprenticeship.'

I'lot-iuterest is the life and soul of the epic, of what-
ever country or time, A narrative of stirring transac-
tions, with hairbreadth 'scapes, and moving iucideiita
by fire or flood, full of breathless interest and painful
suspense, with trials and difiiculties getting thicker ami
thicker around the path of hero and heroine, to be
triumphantly and marvellously dispersed in the end —
these are the magician's materials lor engrossing minds
young and old, and i'or converting sober reality into a
fairyland of day -dreams. The wide variety of %a'\a
species of literature, and tho changes that it has
undergone between ilomer and Virgil, and downward
through mediu'val romance to tho novels of the day,
would require an elaborate delineation, which has been
repeatedly attempted in the more lengthened works on
the history of literature. The greatest and most iiu-

Sortant peculiarity in the recent course of such pro-
uctions, is tho endeavour to make what is exciting in
plot and character coincide more and more with what
IS real in life; so that tho readers may not have their
minds preoccupied with false and deceptive notions as
to the current of the world and the characters of men.
As all such works deal in representations of the trans-
actions or doings of men and women, and put the air
of reality upon these as much as possible, their readers
cannot help being impressed with tho view of life that
they set forth ; and it this proves coincident with what
they actually < xperience when they cuiue into similar
circumstances, tiiey have been instructed and fore-
warned as well as delighted. 'I\i combine truth with
intense human interest is the perfection of every form
of literature.
The epic form of compositi><n has been made use of
> Defou to give a kuowlewtge of the matter-of-fact
world ; iiad by Scott, Buiwer, and others to teach
hiM,ury .Moreover, to point u moral ha« been a frc-
qiMMt crl^etflt wiLh novelists ; and doubtless all these,
»• well m many other objects, will be attained with
more and more success as the art improves. But beiiig
the supply of a constant craving, this form of litera-
ture must be subject to all the changes — rational
and iiratiuual — of novelty and fashion.

TheDrama.

This mode of <v)raposition grows out of the pic-
turesque and striking aspects of human society and
life. It represents tho interesting and exciting inter-
n-iurse of man with man, and the outward expression
and behaviour of men in trying circumstances. Dia-
logue is the main tissue of the composition ; and I lie
predominating interest ought to lie in the action and
reaction of the personages on one another. Othcf
points of interest ar« introduced In subordination ito
the proper dramatic encounter: there is generally some
plot, aa in the epic; the thought and sentiment through-

mnpronio and bellch lettres.

out require to be poelto and itrikins ; the ohanctort
mu»l be •ttrkotlre and well-iuitalned ; and (he drift
ttiid mural of the piece ihould not ihock our lentl-
iiionti of truth or propriety. In ordar to brin)( out tho
ffrandent and inoit powerful Mpeoti and diiplayi of
humanity, it ii found that cunllict, diiaiter, an<l
oalamitjr are better adapted than potitiont of prot-
perity or good fortune are for thli pur))oie ( hence
trasedy ii the moit exciting of dramatic writingi.

The pleaiure derired by all nationi front tragic
compoiitioni, which delight in eetting forth erenta of
dirett roiMry and ruin, haa been one of the moit
puuling quettioni that rhetoriciani hare had to re-
lolre. It Mema very itrange that human beinge, who
are to intenioly repelled by any pain or lutrering that
ftpproaohei themieirei, ihuuld crowd with cagerneii to
lee ropreientationi uf agony and irretrievable calamity,
whore no crime hae been committed, Uut if we March
(li'up enough among the fountains of human emotion,
we ihall find that there ii a ipring in our nature that
leads to thii paradoxical conduct, and that tho lore of
tragedy ii not the only way that it ihowi itaolf.

If we once extricate ourielTci from the narrow
notion, that the things commonly meant by pleasure
and pain, express all that attract or repel us, we shall
be so much nearer the understanding of this question.
There are many things that attract, interest, engross,
arrest, and fascinate the human mind, that can hardly
be said to be ' pleasing,' as the word is commonly
understood. There are objects and emotions that have
an irresistible interest and fascination, and yet are
luch as to tear and agonize the human breast. The
gloomy, the awful, the terrible, the mysterious, are
capable of arresting and engrossing men's thoughts,
without conferring any addition to their happiness.
The spectacle of ' punishments, oxocutions, or death
agonies, takes a deep hold of the mind, and is some-
times with dilRculty prevented from becoming a taste :
in uncultivated minds such things are often a positive
recreation. The huge car of .Fuggernaut crusnes the
bones of living men, hurried by fascination to throw
themselves in Us way; and we have often heard of self-
destruction becoming a rage with a certain class of
minds. It is superfluous to adduce any more facts to
show that there is a tragio emotion in human nature,
which gives an interest to things trsvi< . itltliuu^h we
are possessed of other and more hoal ' u r uupulsee which
tend to repel such objects.

If to tnis susceptibility to ii* f-^gic we add the
multitude of other puints of «t«»i<~ •. created by the
genius of the poet, we shall )i*r« nu litiioulty in under-
standing the popularity of liH^^N, both in the drama
and in the religion of « pei)ple. There is no man
living that is not occaiiouially arrested and enthralled
by the great fact of pkath ; and the roost gross and
reckless of mankind have been wakened to seriousness
by the presence of the Destroyer. Uut the interest in-
spired by tragic consequences is infinitely heightened,
as well as made more rich and mellow, by high dis-
plays of character and conduct, bv manfulness and
noble bearing, by intellect and soul, and all the high
qualities that are brought out in great and gifted
minds engaged in a mortal struggle. Moreover, tragedy
is a truth, a fact of our daily existence, which we nave
to learn how to encounter. Human life is partly based
on the more pleasant epic result of virtue triumphant,
and partly on the tragic model of disaster and ruin,
which no human power can avert, and where there is
nothing left to man but to act a heroic part.

Comedy is the light and mirthful form of the drama.
It sets the fear of Ueaven and tho solemnity of life on
the left hand, and enjoys all the encounters of wit and
soul that are at once picturesq^ue and exhilarating.
Dialogue, both in the letter and m the spirit, is essen-
tial to true comedy ; monologue or autobiography is
the very antithesis of every form of the drama. The
interesting and exc^ing flashes of address and retort,
the agreeable comfjieations of mixed interests, plots,
and counterplots, misunderstanding, and side play, are

the materials of genuine eomrdy. Doth the tragedy
and tho comedy, as well as the epic, re<|uire the aeason-
ing of a lore tale, which is as essential in the world uf
Action as in the world we live in.

Tho following extract from one of the comedies of
Aristophanes is an example of the genuine dramatic
stvlu, where the etfect lies in the action and reaction
of the characters. Itacchus had gone down to tho
Shades in search of a dramatic poet, and on his arrival
found a dispute commencing between i'Kschylus atid
lOurioides as to who should possess the tragio throne.
Uaooaus acts as umpire : —

' Baechui, Come, now, begin— dispute away i but first I |iva
you iiotlin
Thikt ovcry |ihmM In yourdlMnurw miuit be reflnod, avuldlnn
Viilitar abmird oompnrlmM, and awkward allly JoklnKi.
EuHpUlft. At tbo Umt uuUot I furbuor to lUito my own pro-
toniloni ;
IlorMkltur I ■lisU mention tliom, when hl« have boen nifiitadt
Aftar I sliall Imvo fklrly shown how ho bofuuUxl and oheutod
The ruitlo aiullonue that bo found, whiuh i'brynlous boqueathsd

hUn:
IIo plunttxl flnt upon tho staffs a flfpira vollixl and mufflod—
An AohlllcH, or a Niubc. .hat never ahowed their faces )
But kept a triiKlo attltudu, without a word to utter.
lUu. No more they did | t<i very true.
Ru. In tbo meanwbllo tho cbonis
Htnmfc on ten strophes right -on -end i but they romalned in
sllonce.
Bae. I liked that illenoe well enough: as well perhaps or bettor
Than those new talklnx charaotors.

Ru. That's from your want of Judgment,
Believe mo.
Bae. Why, perhaps It Is— but what was hit Intention ?
Eu. Why, mora oonoclt and insolence s to keep tho peopio
waiting
Till NlobS should deign to speak— to drive his drama forward.
Bae. Oh what a ratoal I— Now I sea tba tricks ho used to play
mo.

ITo JBichi/lut, who U thowlnff tigni of inUgnaiion by mritui
conlortUmi,]
What makes you writhe and winoe about ?

Ku. Bocauw ho fools my conturct.
Then having drugged and drawled along, halfway to the con-

clualon,
IIo foisted In a dozen words of noisy, bolntcmiis accent.
With lofty plumui, and ihaggy brows, more bugbears of tbo lan-
guage,
Tliat no man over board liefuro.

JBt. Alas! alas!
Bae. [To JBiehylui.'] Have done there.
Ku. lie never used a simple word.
Bae. [To /HichDliu.'] Don't ^rind your teeth so strangely.
Eu. But bulwarkH, and samanders, and hippogrlSS, imd gor-
gons,
' On bumlahod shields embossed in brass* bloody remorsoloss

phrases,
^Vhlch nobody could understand.

Bae. Well, I oonf^, fbr my part,
I used to keep awake nt ulKlit with guesses and oonjocturos
To think what kind of foroign bird ho meant by griffin-horses.
JBi. A figure on tho heads of ships: you gooao, you must have

icen them.
Bae. Well, from tho likeness, I declare I took It fbr Eruxis.
Eu. Ho figures on tho heads of ships oro fit for tragio diction !
JEi. Well, then, thou paltry wretch, explain— what wore your

own (Uwlces ?
En. Not stories about flying stags, like yours, and griffin horses j
Nor terras nor iniages derived from tapestry, Persian hangings.
When I received tho muse from you I found her puffed and

pampered
With pompous sentences and terms— a cumbrous, huge virago.
My first attention was applied to make her look genteelly;
And bring her to a slighter shape by dtat of lighter diet :
I fc<l her with pUln household phrase, ond cool fiimlllar salad.
With watorgniel episode, with sontimontol joUj',
With moral mincemeat; till at length I brought her into com-
pass:
Cephlsophon, who was my oook, contrived to make them relish.
I kept my plots dlstlnot and dear, and to prevent confusion,
My loading characters rehearsed their pedigroos for proloj^os.'

703

OHAMBBBCrS niFOBHATION FOB THB PEOPLE.

The great dnmatlf ta, both tngio and comic, an well
known to aU reading nifn; and their indiTidaal pwM-
liaritiei hare been agaiu and again ducuned in the
repoaitoriee of literary critioiem. The myitenr of their
appearance in galaxies at faroured periods, while other
epochs are stenle and barren, will probably long oon-
tutue to engage the meditations of the corioui.

THE VENTINO OF EMOTION.

When the miud is powerfully mored with pasuon or
emotion, the bodily organs are indispensably engaged,
along with what is considered the more peculiarly
mental part of our organisation, in sustMning the cur^
rent of feeling. Whatever power of ezjpressiou, natural
or artificial, belongs to man, is called into play when a
strong stimulus stirs up his bein|;; and the more
completely the yarious organs and impulses are made
to harmonise with each other, the more are painful
impressions relieved, and the excess of joy moderated.
By the sadness of the countenance the heart is made
better; by the effiisions of song, and the outpouring of
the feelings in appropriate language, the oppressed
mind finds relief. Many compositions owe their origin
to tMs necessity of giving an outward rent to inward
emoUon. The poet writes an ode or a sonnet; the reli-
gious man utters a prayer; the man in general ad-
dresses his friend, or contents himself with a soliloquy,
or an apostrophe to the universe in general. Exclama-
tions, ejaculations, oaths, and such-like outpourings,
are among the forms of language employed to lighten
the pressure of calamity, or calm the torrent of excite-
ment. The more highly cultivated, and the more
artistic and exquisite the language at command, the
more effectually does it answer this end. The poetic
genius can convert an oocasion of grief into a mild and
soothing sorrow which does not refuse to be comforted ;
and in the high outbursts of joyous elation, the same
genius can transform a tumultuous stream into a
gentle current of luxurious and prolonged satisfaction.
To give an intellectual form to emotional excitement
of every kind is a great advance in refinement as weli
as in human happiness : and to convert the inarticu-
late howl of the savage into the tranquil stream of
melodious numbers and touching images, is a vast
stride in human civilisation. To have therefore a lan-
guage and a form for expressing all the various feel-
ings that may swell the human breast, is one of the
essentials of a community. T||e poetic literature of
each nation generally contains examples of this among
its other products; and we have many exquisite si)eci-
mens of the express effort of venting emotions in ap-
propriate language, without especially addressing any
other person. The sonnets of Shakspeare seem to have
purely this character.

But as, in addressing fellow-beings, the expression of
individual feeling is one of the leading subjects of the
communication, it happens that in the drama, and in
many other modes of poetical and prose composition,
there are abundant examples of the embodiment of
feeling, for the purpose of relieving or gratifying the
individual emotions and inward longings. How immea-
surable the interval between the wail of savage grief
at the pron>eot of death, and the embodiment of the
feeling in the lines of Shakspeare ! —

' Ay, but to die— to g« wo know not where ;
To lie in coM obctruution, and to rot :
This ueOEible warm motion to become
A knwxlwl clod ; and the delighted apirit
To batho in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed Ice:
To be imprisoned in tho viewless winds,
And blown with restless violenoe round about
The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and uncortatn thoughts
Imagine howling ! Tis too horrible !
The weariest and most loathM worldly llfo
That rgo, ache, penury, and im|iriiunment
Can lay on nature, I* a paradise
To what wo fcar of death.'
704

An expression of this oharaoter helps to nuse huma-
nity aMve the terrors of evil, and to conquer misery by
the grandeur of intellect.

ART OF BSFINED ADDRESS.

Under this, which is the concluding head of our
subject, we have to allude to the forms of address
employed in the refined intercourse of life for pleasing,
sympathising, consoling, ai\d otherwise cratifying the
feelings of, those about us. There is a welT-known art of
polite address which consists in interpolating in every
kind of discourse terms and aMociations of an agree-
able character. But the prevailivf; idea in the practice
of polite spelling is the expression of deference and
compliment, togetner with a careful abstinence from all
disparaging phraseology. It is, in fact, assumed that
every person has a predominant feeling of »tlf, or
amotir propre, and that the one universal mode of
pleasing address consists in gratifying this feeling.

The forms of polite and deferential speech would
appear to have sprung, in the first instance, from the
expressions invented for testifying respect for authority
and rank. Under the Eastern despotisms of the ancient
world, the prostration of the subject before the ruler
was carried to the most extravagant pitch, both in act
and word; and many of the prevailing forms of address
no doubt origmated in the early despotic civilisations.
But the institutions and spirit of modem chivalry,
coupled with the influence of Christianity, introduced
a mode of politeness that extended to human beings in
general. The greater humanity of modem ^es was
accompanied with a more universal courtesy. The
ideal of the knight and the gentleman, as pictured by
Chaucer, embodies this quality in a very beautiful atid
touching way : —

« Ho was wise.

And of his port as meek as is a maid.
He never yet no vilanio ne said
In all his life tmto no manner wight:
Ho was a very porbot gentle knight'

The formal language of courtesy is in general well
enough known to the cultivated classes of society ; but
there is, in addition to this, the far higher art of ex-
pressing special opinions and sentiments regarding in-
dividuus to themselves in a becoming way ; an art
demanding a degree of judgment and delicacy which
is among the rarer qualities of human beings. Suck
an art, however, involvos so much of manner and de-
meanour, that it is hardly a subject of pure rhetorical
cultivation.

The mode of receiving and acknowledging every kind
of address is deserving of study, as being by no means
an obvious suggestion of sympathy, even in minds of
a sympathetic turn. In a properly-respectful acknow-
ledgment, agreement or coincidence with what is stated
should be so expressed as to guard against implying
that the statement was superfluous or uncalled for.

The art of consoling, cheering, and encouraging, is
a still more difficult art, and one that perhaps has
not reached a very high state of advancement, if we
consider that one of the larce aud permanent profes-
sions has been devoted to this function— -namely, the
spiritual order, under every system of religious belief.
It is doubtful whether any examples of tnis style of
address can be produced that would compare with the
great works of oratory that have been given to the world.
There are certain commonplaces of consolation — such
as saying, when a misfortune or failure occurs, that we
have done our duty, or intended well ; or that it is the
lot of men to suffer. Such ideas may be more or less
adorned in the statement, but, on the whole, they can-
not be pronounced of a very high order of creation.

The poetic and other literatures of the world have
furnished here and there valuable examples of the arts
of pleasing address, sympathy, and consolation. The
defect of the habitual instanoes furnished in poetical
and romantic composition, is their being too elaborate
for ordinary imitation, espedalljr ia oral address.

PRINTING.

Printino ii the art of producing impresaions from cha-
ractera or figure*, moTablt; and immovable, on paper or
any other lubitance. There ?re several distinct branches
of this important art— as the printing of books with i
movable types, the printing of engraved copper and
steel plates, and the taking of impressions from atone,
called lithography. Our object, in the first place, is
to describe the art of printing books or sheets with
movable types, generally called letterpru* printing, and
which may undoubtedly be esteemed th« greatest of
all human inveutions.

ORIGIN AND HISTORY.

The art of printing is of comparatively modem origin :
four hundred years have not yet elapsed since tha first
book was issued from the press; yet we have proofs
that the principles upon which it was ultimately deve-
loped existed amongst the ancient Chaldean nations.
Kntire and undecayed bricks of the famed city and
tower of Babylon have been found stamped with various
symbolical figures and hieroglyphic characters. In
this, however, as in every similar relic of antiquity, the
object which stamped the figures was in one block or
piece, and therefore could be employed only for one
distinct subject. This, though a kind of piiuting, was
totally useless for the propagation of literature, on ac-
count both of its expensiveness and tediousness. The
Chinese are the only existing people who still pursue
this rude modtaapf printing by stamping paper with
blocks of woooHThe work which they intend to be
printed is, in IH first place, carefully written upon
sheets of thin tnMsparent paper; /nch of these sheets
is glued, with the face downwards, upon a thin tablet
of hard wood; .tiid the engraver then, with proper in-
struments, cuts away the wood in all those parts on
which nothing is traced; thus leaving the transcribed
characters in relirf, and ready for printing. In this
way as many tablets are necessary as there ar« written
pages. No press is used; but when the ink is laid on,
and the paper carefully placed above it, a brush is
passed over with the proper degree of pressure. The
Chinese chronicles state that the above mode of print-
ing was discovered in China about fifty years before the
Christian era, and the art of paper-making about a cen-
tury and a-half afterwards ; previous to which period, all
thoir writings were transcribed or printed in volumes
of silk cut into leaves of the required dimensions. Be-
fore the discovery of wooden blocks, the Chinese, accord-
ing to Davis, were in the habit of using stone blockt.,
on which tho writing had been engraved — a process by
which the ground of the paper was made black, and
the letters left white. This primitive effort led to the
improved invention of wooden blocks, on which the
characters were cut in relief, and the effect thereby
reversed — the paper page remaining white, and the
letters being impressed in ink.

It is a somewhat curious circumstance, that amongst
the first attempts at printing by means of wood-engrav-
ing (see No. 96) which can be traced to have been
made in Europe, was the making of playing-cards for
the amusement of Charles VI. of France. This was
towards the latter end of the fourteenth century.
Thereafter came prints from wood-blocks of human
figures, single or in groups; one of the earliest existing
specimens of which was found in a convent not far from
Augsburg, with the date 1 423 upon it. It is a repre-
sentation of St Christopher, by an unknown artist; and
is now, or was lately, in the possession of Earl Spencer.
These prints were at first without any text, or letter-
press, as it is modemly termed; but after the ground-
work of the art hau l>een completed, its rise towards
perfection was almost unparalleled in rapidity. Its
No. 95.

professors composed historical subjects with a text or
explanation subjoined. The pages were placed in pairs
facing each other; and as only one side of the leaf was
impressed, the blank pages came also opposite one
another; which, being pasted together, gave the whole
the appearance of a 1k)ok printed in the modern fashion.
The people not being able to read, were in this manner
impressed with glimmering ideas of sacred history.
Remarkable incidents mentioned in the books of Moses,
in the gospels, and in the Apocalypse of St John, were
thus made known to the less-instructec cla?<ns, but
generally in connection with superstitious legends of
the middle ages. Some works of this class were called
Biblia Pauperum — ^"Poor Men's Books;' and copies of
them are now extremely rare. ' The few copies which
remain in existence,' says Timperley, in his curious
* Encyclopeedia of Literary and Typographical Anec-
dote,' ' are for the most part either imperfect, or in
very bad condition. This will not excite much surprise,
when it is considered that it is a kind of catechism of
the Bible, which was executed for the use of young
persons and the common people — it being the only part
of the Sacred Book at that time within the reach of the
commonalty; a complete Bible in manuscript being
then worth a hundred pounds of our money. These
facts will account for the destruction of almost every
copy of the " Biblia Pauperum," by repeated use,
and for the mutilated state of the few copies that re-
main. The work consists of forty leaves, of a small
folio size, each leaf containing a cut in wood, with
extracts and descriptive sentences referring to the
subjects of the cut. Each page contains four busts —
two at the top, and two lower down; together with
three historical subjects.' To those unacquainted with
the estimation such ancient pieces of printing bear
among the virtuosi, it may be amusing to learn that
fair copies have brought upwards of j£250, and the very
worst rarely less than £50.

The next step in the science of typography was that
of forming every letter or character of the alphabet
separately, so as to be capable of rearrangement, and
forming in succession the pages of a work, thereby
avoiding the interminable labour of cutting new blocks
of types for every page. It is exceedingly remarkable
that this most important and yet simple idea should not
have occurred to the Romans; and what renders it the
more surprising is the fact, which we learn from Virgil,
that brands, with the letters of the owner's name, were
in use in his time for the purpose of marking cattle. The
credit of the discovery was reserved for a (Jerman, John
Guttenberg (or Guttemberg), who accomplished this
important improvement about the year 1438. As this
man was the first great improver of typography, to the
study of which he exclusively devoted his whole time and
attention, a short sketch of his life will only be a part
of the history of the art: — Guttenberg, yr^-n is supposed
to have been born at Mayence, or Mentz, in thn begin-
ning of the fifteenth century, settled at Strasburg about
the year 1424. In 143.5 he entered into partnership
with Andrew Drozhenn is (or Dritzehen), John Riff, and
Andrew Heelman, citizens of Strasburg, binding him-
self thereby to disclose certain important 'secrets con-
nected with the art of printing, by which they would
attain opulence. The workshop was in the house of
Dritzehen, who, dying shortly after the work was com-
menced, Guttenberg immediately sent his servant, Law-
rence Bieldich, to Nicholas, the brother of the deceased,
and requested that no person might be admitted into
the workshop, lest the secret should be discovered, and
the forms (or fastened-together types) stolen. But they
had already disappeared ; and this fraud, as Ttill as the
claims of Nicholas Dritzehen to succeed to his brother's

705

OHAllBEBffS TSVOjaUSnaS FOB THE PEOPLE.

■hare, produced a lawiuit amoog the lumving part-
nen. Fire witnewei were examined; and from the
eridence of Bieldich, Outtenberg'i serrant, it wai in-
oontroTertibly prored that Outtenberg waa the first who
practifed the art of printing with movable types, and
that, on the death of Andrew Dritzehen, he had ex-
preialj ordered the forms to be broken up, and the
characters dispersed, lest any one should discover his
■eoret. The result of this lawsuit, which occurred in
1439, was a dissolution of partnership; and Guttenberg,
after having exhausted his means in the eifort, pro-
ceeded, in 14 15-46, to his native city of Meittz, where he
resumed his typographic labours. Being ambitious of
making his extraordinary invention known, and of valuo
to himself, but being at the same time deficient in tLe
means, he opened his mind to a wealthy goldsmith and
worker in precious metals, named John Fust or Faust,
and prevailed on him to advance large sums of money
in order to make further and more complete trials of
the art. Outtenberg being thus associated with Fust,
the first regular printing establishment was begun, and
the business of printing carried on in a style correspond-
ing to the infancy of the art. After many smaller essays
with respect to the capabilities of his press and mov-
able types, Outtenberg had the hardihood to attempt
an edition of the Bible, which he succeeded in printing
complete, between the years 1450 and 1455. This cele-
brated Bible, which was the first important specimen
of the art of printing, and which, judging from what it
has led to, we should certainly esteem as the most ex-
traordinary and praiseworthy of human productions,
was executed with cut-metal types on six hundred and
thirty-seven leaves; and, from copies still in existence
in the Royal Libraries of Berlin and Paris, some of
them appear to have been printed on vellum. The
work was printed in the Latin language; and besides
those on vellum, there are several copies on paper in
Gennany, France, and England — all of which are justly
esteemed as the highest bibliographical treasures.

The execution of this — the first printed Bible — which
has justly conferred undying honours on the illustrious
Guttenberg, was, most unfortunately, the immediate
cause of his ruin. The expenses incident to carrying
on a fatiguing and elaborate process of workmanship
for a period of five years, being much more consider-
able than what were originally contemplated by Faust,
he instituted a suit against poor Outtenberg, who, in
consequence of the decision against him, was obliged to
pay interest, and also a part of the capital that had been
advanced. This suit was followed by a dissolution of
partnership; and the whole of Guttenberg's apparatus
fell into the hands of John Faust, who, from being the
ostensible agent in tlie business of printing, and from
the wonder expressed by the vulgar in seeing printed
sheets, soon a(»]uired the name of a magician, or one in
compact with the devil ; and under this character, with
the appellation of l)r Faustus, he has for ages enjoyed
DO very enviable notoriety.

Besides the above-mentioned Bible, some other speci-
mens of the work of Outtenberg have been discfered
to be in existence. One in particular, which is worthy
of notice, was found some years ago among a bundle of
old papers in the arrliives of Mayence. It is an alma-
nac for the year 1457, which served as wrapper for a
register of accounts that year. ' This,' savs Hansard,
* would most likely bn printed towards the close of 1456,
and may onnsequeni ! v bo deemed the most ancient spe-
cimen of typographic printing extant, with a certain
date. That Guttenberg was a person of refined taste
in the execution of his works, is sufficiently obvious.
Adopting a very ancient custom, common in the written
copies of the Scriptures and the missals of the church,
he used a large ornamental letter at the commence-
ment of books and chapters, finely embellished, and sur-
rounded with a variety of figures as in a frame. The
initial letter of the first psalm thus forms a beautiful
•pecimen of the art of printing in iti early progress.
It is richly ornamented with foliage, flowers, a bird,
and a greynound ; and ii itill mon beautiful from being
706

printed in a pale blue colour, while the embellishments
are red, and of a transparent appearance. What be-
came of Guttenberg immediately after the unsuccessful
termination of his lawsuit with Faust is not well known.
Like the illustrious discoverer of the great Western
Continent, he seems to have retired umost broken-
hearted from the world, and to have spent most of the
remainder of his days in obscurity. It is ascertained,
however, that in the year 1465 he received an annual
pension from the Elector Adolphus, but that he only
enjoyed this small compensation for his extraordinary
invention during three years, and died towaitds the end
of the month of February 1468.

It long formed a subject of contention amongst anti-
quaries and bibliomaniacs, by what means Outtenberg
K>rmed his types; but it is now pretty clearly ascer-
tained that they were at first all individually cut by the
hand. The mode of casting types in moulds has been
very generally, and seemingly correctly, assigned to Gut-
tenberg's successor, Schocmr. This individual was an
industrious young man of inventive genius, an apprei\-
tice with Faust, who took him into partnership imme-
diately after his rupture with Guttenberg, and who is
supposed to have been initiated into the mvsteries of
the art by the latter. The first joint publicaaon of
Faust andSchoefilerwaiS a beautiful edition of the Psalms,
which came out only about eighteen months after their
going into partnership. Along with it appeared a de-
claration by them, claiming the merit of inventing the
cut-metal types with which It was printed; but this
pretension was evidently false; and in fact it afterwards
appeared that the book had been four years in the press,
and must, consequently, have been chieilv executed by
Guttenberg. It is worthy of notice that the ahovftpub-
lication was the very first to which the date, printer's
name, and place of publication were affixed. The most
perfect copy known is that in the Imperial Library of
Vienna. ' It was discovered,' says the indefatigable
Timperley, 'in the year 16(15, near Innspruck, in the
castle of Ambras, where tho Archduke Francis Sigis-
mund had collected a prodigious quantity of manu-
scripts and printed books; taken for the most part
from the famous library of Matthias Corvinus, king
of Hungary, from whence it w.\s transported to Vienna.
The book is printed in folio, iri vellum, and of such
extreme variety, that not more chiui six or seven copies
are known to be in existence, all of which, however,
differ from each other in some respect. The psalter
occupies one hundred and tliirty-five, and the recto the
hundred and thirty-sixth, i,nd the remaining forty-one
leaves are appropriated to '.he litany, prayers, responses,
vigils, &c. The psalms are executed in larger cha-
racters than the hymns; the capital letters are cut in
wood, with a degree of dtlicacy anu ooldnesg which are
truly surprising : the lar^rest of them — the initial let-
ters of the psalms — which are black, red, and blue,
must have passed three time: through the press.'

To SchocSer, as said before, n:u8t be justly awarded
the honour of completing Guttenberg's invention, by
discovering the method of casting the characters in a
matrix. In an account of Schccffer, given by Jo. Frid.
Faustus of Aschuffeiiburg, from papers preserved in his
family, we are informed that the artist privately pre-
pared matrices for the whole alphabet, and showed the
letters cast from them to his master Faust, who was so
well pleased, that he gave his daughter, Christina, to
him in marriage. Faust and Schoetfer concealed the new
improvement, by administering an oath of secrecy to
all whom they intrusted, till tne year 1462, when, by
the dispersion of their servants into different countries
at the sacking of Mentz, by the Archbishop Adolphus,
the invention was publicly divuleed, and the art was
spread throughout Europe. With Hansard, therefore,
we mar safely award to Guttenberg the high appella-
tion of the Father of Printing ; to Schoeffer that of
Father of Letter-Founding ; and to Faust that of the
Generous Patron by whose means the wondrous dis-
covery—the nurse and preserver of the arts and sciences
— wai brought so rapidly to pwftotion.

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PRINTING.

ElRtT FBOOREM ON THE CONTINENT.

Hoerlem and Straaburg were the first placet to
which the art of printing was transplanted from Mentz,
and this at so early a date, that each of these places
has its respective advocates as being the birthplace of
it. From Haerlem, it passed into Rome in 1466, where
its first professors wore Conrad Swelnheim and Arnold
Pannartz, who introduced the present Roman type in
the <"1'owing year, in printing Cicero's * EpistoloB Fami-
liaroa.' The Gothic character, from which our own black-
letter -.iras derived, was the next which was employed
by the ancient printers; after which, in 1476, the first
set of Greek characters was cast by the Italians —
whether at Venice, Milan, or Florence, is a disputed
point. In 1483, however, all previous attempts at the
Greek character were eclipsed by a splendid edition of
Homer'9 works, ]>ublished at the last-named place, in
folio, and printed by Demetrius, a native of Crete. The
first book in the Hebrew character was an edition of
the Pentateuch, printed in 1482; the whole Bible, in-
cluding the Ner Testament, not being executed till
1488. Ih'* was done at Soncino, a small town in the
duchy of Milan.

In 1467 printing was set up in the city of Tours; at
Reuthlingen and Venice in 1469; and, it is believed,
at the same time in Paris. This city was the tenth
town in Europe in which a printing-press was estab-
lished; it was set u^ by Ulrich Gering, a native of the
canton of Lucerne, in the house of the Sorbonne, and
in the year 1469. This Gering had been taught the
art by EVias Helie von Laufl^n, who introduced it into
Switzerland, and he coraioenced the operations of the
Lucerne presb by publishing • Marchesini's Biblical
Lexicon 51, 'r^itus sive Primicerius,' in the year

1470. Tnt ' k which issued from Gering's press
at the Sor v? the ' Epistolea Gasparini Perga-
mensis;' i, ...> published in the year 1470. Gering
continued his labours until 1508, and died on the 23d
of Augusc 1 .UO, bequeathing very considerable property
for the benefit of young scholars and the poor of Paris.
Strasburg was the next town which had the advantage
of a press, and soon afterwards Lyons — the one in

1471, the other in 1473. In fact, so rapid at this
period was the spread of the new art, that between the
years 1469 and 1475, attempts at printing books had
been made in most of the principal towns of Germany,
Italy, Franco, and the Netherlands, and often, as in
the case of the Spiras of Venice, with eminent success.
It was introduced into Russia about the year 1560, or
more than a century after its general practice in
Southern Europe.

About the year 1496, the letter which we now call
Italic was invented by Aldus Manutius, a Roman by
birth, who set up the business of a printer in Venice.
At first, Manutius used his Italic, or Venetian, as he
called it, for the printing of entire volumes; but this
was not generally approved of by typographers, and
after a short period, Italic was employed only for par-
ticular words, prefaces, and introductions. Latterly,
it Las been the practice to use Italic only in very par-
ticular cases, as its constant requisition indicates a
pour style of literary composition.

PKINTINO IN BRITAIN.

The early history of printing in England is obscure.
The credit of introducing the art into that country
was long believed to be due to Mr William Caxton, a
Piercer and citizen of London, who, during his travels
abroad, and his residence for many years in Holland,
Flanders, and Germany, had thoroughly informed him-
Mlf of the nrocess, and upon his return was induced,
by the encouragement of many men of wealth and
rank, to set up a press in Westminster Abbey about
the year 1471. Such was the tradition amongst writers,
and it is still generally believed. Its groundlessness
was ascertained about the time of the Restoration,
when a little book, which previously had been little
thought of, fell under the notice of the curious, as

bearing date at Oxford in the year 1468, being three
years antecedent to the presumed commencement of
Caxton's labours. This book, copies of which are jet
extant, is a small quarto of forty-one leaves, entitled
' Exposicio Sancti Jeronimi in Symbolum Apostolorum
ad Papum Laur^ntium.' At the same time (1664) »
work was published by a Mr Atkins of London, en-
titled ' Original and Orovrth of Printing in England;'
in which an account is given of an ancient chronicle,
said to have been found in the archbishop's palace at
Lambeth, containing the particulars attending the first
introduction of the art. By the latter, it would appear
that it took place during the reign of Henry VI.,
under the auspices of Thomas Bourchiers, Archbishop
of Canterbury, who sent R. Toumour, master of the
robes, and William Caxton, merchant, to Haerlem,
who persuaded an under workman, named Corsellis, to
come to England and set up a press at Oxford. The
manuscript mentions that the transaction cost King
Henry 1500 merks. But n single press was soon found
InsufBcient for England; upon which the king set up
another at St Alban's, and a third at Westminster; the
last being placed under the charge of William Caxton,
in the year 1471.

It would be useless for us here to enter into the
merits of the question concerning the authenticity of
the_ above-mentioned chronicle, which at one time
divided the literary world to a violent degree. We
shall only observe that the result of the disputation
appears to be this : — ^The existence of the book before-
named establishes beyond a doubt that booki were
printed at Oxford by Corsellis several years iefore
Caxton set his press to work at Westminster, and
therefore that that city has the honour of having been
the first seat of the art in England; but Caxton was
the first who introduced the printing with moulded metal
typu, the works by his predecessor having been exe-
cuted merely with wooden ones. It is by our early
writers not having attended sufficiently to this line of
demarcation between the two stages of the art that the
misunderstanding has, as far as we can juJge, after
much careful investigation, solely arisen.

After the art of printing had been thus introduced
into Oxford and St Alban's, it spread to Westminster,
Cambridge, Tavistock, Worcester, Canterbury, Ip«wich,
&c. in almost all cases by the encourageij -^n' oi the
churchmen of these places, and generally witii the view
of printing works of piety. About the year 1500, or
probably somewhat earlier, Pynson wis, by patent of
Henry VII., invested with the office of king's printer,
which may be regarded as the first inr.tance of an ap-
pointment of this nature. At the close of the fifteenth
and the commencement of the sixteenth century, Lon-
don possessed a number of printers, but none whose
name has been so celebrated as that of Wynken de
Worde, a foreigner, who had been instructed under
Caxton. He improved the art considerably, and was
the first printer in England who introduced the Roman
letter — all previous printing, and much of a later date,
being in the black or German letter.

Although at first countenanced by the clergy, the art
of printing was soon looked upon with extreme jealousy
by the church, which at length discovered that this in-
vention was but too certainly calculated to revolutionise
the whole fabric of society. The (.irliest efforts of the
art, as we havo seen, were directed to the multiplica-
tion of the Bible ; but for a period of sixty or seventy
years from the date of the invention, til the copies of
the Scriptures which were printed we^j in the Latin or
some other classic language, not understood by the
people. But now a new era ccmmenced. Certain
printers began to issue the Bible in the English tongue,
translated from the original, and this gave mighty
oflfence to the church, or Romish hierarchy.

In 1526 Richard GraT'on, a gentleman of liberal
education, having adopted the profession of printing,
issued an edition of the New Testament in the ^ngliui
language, which drew down the wrath of the then
Bishop of London. A proclamation was issued by this

707

CHAHBEBS'8 INFOiUtl.'IinHriFOB THE PEOPLE.

pnlate prohiMingitt «M. ^ ' MnimiMmi'Agftmyt
thk UocumoiW 'w*^ naoy dul(k«n of ini^uitae, Tnun-
U71WM of itwtherfir Mct, itlya^cd thtoi^. extrtanm
widudatM, wkndzTlng fitomtlM wfty of truth, and <K«
CftthoUelw (v^* omfialy 1mt« tnoiloted the New Tes.
tMnent into our £a«Ui^ tong«e» eutarnMillyiog there,
witk mwBjr Jiereticali wticlw and ertoneoui opinion*,
penkioiu Mtd «ff«nsiTe, MduQrinj; th« ainiiple people.'
teti T1|» p^Mlftlnatioc goet on to order kll oopiee of
the wid N««r Ttatfunent to be brought to the biahop'e
vieMr'gOtersI to b« bumt»un>Zer p»iu of esaonunuiu<
cktioo, knd incHcriiif tine tw^tciou of iiereey. It does
not i4>peu thkt the fulniiniitioiu of the bishop were of
iBuoh effmt. The New Testament having been readily
purchMwd, itled to .the puhlioatior in l£3d, of the
wholo Bible in the English languaf tto which it wu
tnuislftted by Miles Coverditle. Bi (his noble under-
taking WM iwcompliBhed abroad. In \6d9 England
had the honour of producing an edition of the Bible in
thi»vBnglish tonguoi under the auvpioes of Cranmer and
Henry VIII., the work being executed by Oral ton and
Edward \Vhitechai.'ch<

The progress of the art in England, after its first
rush into notoriety, was reinarliably slow. In the six-
teenth century it was interrupted by the broils con-
sequent on the Reformation, and in the seventeenth
century by the still greater harassments of the Civil
War, and the gloomy religions spirit which prevailed
up till the Restoration. ' This lost event was even unfa-
vourable to it, by introduciiig a general liceatieusness
and contempt for any solid and respectable literature.
At this period there was an act uf parliamnit still in
force, preventing more than twenty printers to practise
their art in the klii^doni. ' At the fire of London in
Iti^S (we quote a writer in the ' Penny Magazine') the
booksellers dwelUng about St Paul's lost an iuuuense
stock of books in quires, amounting, according to
Ev:4ljrn, to £200,000, vrhicli they were accustomed to
■tew in the vaults in the metropolitan cathedral and
of other neighbouring churches. At that time the
people were beginning to read again, and to think; and
afc new capital naturally rushed in to replace the con-
sumed stock ui' books, ther<>, tss considerable activity
once more in printing. The laws regulating the num-
ber of printers soon aiUc fell into disuse, as they had
long iaUea into contempt. We have befor*' us a cata-
logue (the first compiled in this country) of " all the
books printed in England since the dreadful fire, 1666,
to the end of Trinity terra, Ib'bO," which catalogue is
oonti jed to 1685, year by year. A great many — we
may fsv.\y say one aalf — of these books are single ser-
mons, curious painphlct sheets, and tracts.

The whole number of books printed during the four-
teen year!< from 1666 to 1680, we ascertain, by counting,
was 3^M, of whicM 947 were divinity. 420 law, and 153
physic — so that two-fifths of the whole were professional
Dooka ; 397 were scbooI-boolLs ; and 253 on subjects of
geography and navigation, including maps. Taking
the average of these fourteen years, the total number
of works produced yearly was '26'i; but deducting the
reprints, pamphlets, liugle sermons, and maps, we may
fairlv assume that tut yearly average of new books was
much under 1 00. Uf the number of copies constituting
an edition, we have no record; we apprehend it must
have been small, for the price of a book, as far as we
can ascertain it, was coiisidinibl?.

Roger North, speaking of ibose booksellers of his day
who had the knack of getti::;; up volumes on temporary
matters, says, " They crack their brains to find out soil-
ing subjects, and keep hirelings in garrets, on hard
meat, to write and correct by the rrate; so puff up an
octavo to .. sufficient thickness, ana there is it* thiliingt
current for an hour and a-halPs roading." In a cata-
logue, with prices, printed twenty-two years after the
one we have just noticed, we find that the ordinary
cost of an octavo was jftw tkiUinff*.'

After the lievulution of 168U, th« business of pnnting
rapidly increased, by the (Icniaiids for sheets of intelli. |
gouce or n«w», m w«U •• (01 » b«tter doss of liUnwr: j

7«a

pr^ductieMr' la tha ra^ofQuetoAnne^ printing was
increased, silU further by tl^etnne of the < Guardian/
' Spectatorti and other Hteouy sbeetiv and, In 1731 it
received constdttaWe bupeti^s^ hyi th* estaUishment of
the 'Oeutleman's Mogann*,' being the first of the class
of larger peri'.<dic.«il4. Ofltween 1700 a«i1 1756, about
6000 volumes (exelusive of tracts and psinphlets) were
pubiished'-ra number which, sluce the conimanoemeiit
of the pieeent century, has. been increased thirty£»ld<
Acoordtngto the last oensui^ upwards of 16,000 persons
are employed in the twok trade. of the Unitod Kingdom I

Printing was intiwduoed into Scotland, wd^bsgun in
Edinburgh, about thirty years aftarCoxi^n had brought
it into England Mr Wutson, in his ' ilistory of Print-
ing,^ says that tb* art was introduced in Scotland from
the Low Countries by the priests who fled thither from
the persecutions at home. Be this as it mav, we find
James IV, granting a patent in 1507 to Walter Chap-
man, a merchant of Edinburgh, and Andrew Mollftr, a
workman, to estoblish a press in that city. According
to bibliographers, the most ancient specimen of print-
ing in Scotland extant is a oolkctj«n entitled, the
PvrUUB of Nobleneti, Edinburgh. In 1500, a jBre-
vimy of the Church qf Aberdeen was printed at Edin-
burgh; and a second part in the following year. Very
few works, however, appear to bare issued from the
Scottish press for tiie next thirty years; but from 1541,
the date from which we find James V. granting licences
to print, the art has been pursued with success in the
metropolis. At present, and from the beginning of the
present century, it is perhaps the most distinguished
craft in the city, being conducted in all its departments
of typefounding, printir*^ publishing, and, we may odd,
pofter-makiiig at the mills in the vicinity. ^ \

Printing was not known in Ireland till about Hhe
year 1551, when a book in black-letter was issued from
a press in Dublin; but till the year 1700, very little
printing was executed in Irolaud, and even since that
pwiod, the country has acquired no celebrity w.batever
in this department of the arts, although possessing
some respectable printinc establishments. At present,
Dublin and .B«lfitst are the only i.riuting a^id publish-
ing stations in the sister kingdom. ,j: ..,. ,,r-,:

PnoOAESS ON THE CONTINENT AM> IN AMfllllOA.

The progress of printing on the continent of Europe
bos been remarkably slow. Unless in the free statts
of Oermony, where the art is pursued to an incalculable
extent, the professiou of the printer is almost every-
where under the severest res 'notions, and little can bo
published without coming first under the scrutiny of
censors appointed by the governments. The art is
carried on in Brussels and Paris perhaps with a greater
degree of freedom than usual in other continental
capitals, and from the presses in the latter city soiuo
exceedingly elegant works have been issued. But at
Paris, as everywhere else, there is a general inferiority
in the mechanism of the printing-ofiiuo, when compared
with that now in use in England and Scotland, except
in those coses in which the press<!S employed have been
imported from Great Britain.

While the art of printing has been, by slow degrees,
creeping through the despotically-governed states uf
Europe, and establishing itself at isolated spots in
Oriental countries, everywhere creating distrust, and
nowhere allowed to be exercised with perfect freedom,
it has rer^liiy taken root and flourished among tho
civilised i.ihabitonta of North America. The first
printiug.)/ress established in tho American colonies was
one set up at Cambridge, in Moaiiachusetts, in the year
1638, tho era of the foundation of Harvard College uf
that place. It was only established by the exertions
and joint contributions of different individuals in
Europe and Amevica; and there is no doubt that the
mechanism and types were imported from England.
The first work which issued from this press was tho
' Freen>&i>'s Call,' and the second the ' Almanac for
N<;-.y Enttlond,' both ul 1039; the first book printed
wa» the New England veriiou of tho Psalms, aA octavo

.5IJT0.TT Tinr iio'^Timmm.'

'I p;^>mmr.uvf

volume of too pagM. ' In 1670 b<Mki begm to be
printed at Boitbn; in 1686 printing bocitrae known in
Philadelphia; and in 1693 in New York. In the yeat
1700 there were only four priuting-ptaB«e< in the colo-
niee. Since that period, and eipeciatly since the revo-
lution, which removed everything like a oenaonhip of
the prenB, the number of printing'presMe has grelitly
increased. The mechaniBm of the proet han likewiM
been mucji improved in that country; and the Ameri>
cane bsv« copied the patent ateam-preea of Cowper of
London, and now posaeie roaehines of thii deeeviption.
In IROO the number of preeset had ir-Yeaied to 300; in
1830 ther amounted to 1200; and we learn that thev j
are (till inorenBing in number and extending their ..i-
flaenoe. Boeton, New York, and Pbiladolphia may be
considered as the principal printing stations in the
Union— from the presses of which have issued not only
reprints of the majority A standard English works, but
ciginal voluitteSaiidsecieft of volumes which do honour
♦o American literatm^. In their style of typography
and bookm'ftking the Americans are still inferior to the
English, sacrtfi<iing beauty and durability to economy
ana'deipatch. Some years ago, the Cherokees, one of
the tribes of native Indians, set up a press, and com-
itenced a newspaper — a circumstance which may be
rv^rded aS an extraordinary proof of the growth of
knowledge in America.

We shall now proceed to a description of the art in
its various branches, though vrithout entering into the
more minute, and what would be titeiome, technical
details ofthe profession. -I' ''''J'! ^' " .v-dj^i'st ti

,i.it>i ■.' '■ 0PTRBTVPE8.

Printers in early times made the letters which they
us4d, but in process of time the necessity for a division
of labour created the distinct trade of a manufa<Hurer
of types, and it is only in rare instances in the present
day that printers supply their own letter. The prepa-
ration of types requires much delicacy and skill. The
lirst step in the process is the cutting of a punch or die,
resembling the required letter. The punch is of hard-
ened Rteel, with the figure of the letter cut, the re-
verse way, upon its point. On this die being finished,
it is struck into a piece of copper, about an inch and
a-quarter long, one-eighth of an inch deep, and of a
width proportionate to the siee of the type to be east.
This copper, being so impressed With the representa-
tion of the lett^, is called the matrix. The matrix
is now fixed into a small instrument or flrame, called
the mould, which is composed of two parts. The ex-
t#mal surface is of wood, the internal of steel. At
the top is a shelving orifice, into which the metal is
poured. The space within is of the size of the required
body of the letter, and is made exceedingly true. The
melted metal, being poured into this space, sinks down
to the bottom into the matrix, and instantly cooling,
the mould is made to open with the instantaneous
movement of a spring, and the type is cast out by the
workman. This process of casting types is executed
with great celerity. Of course every separate letter in
the alphabet, ever^ ligure, point, or mark, must have
its own punch and matrix. In casting types, the
founder stands at a table, and has beside him a small
furnace and pot with heated metal, which he lifts with
a wnall ladle. Type metal is a compo md of lead and
regulus of antimony, the latter giving hardness and
sharpness of edge to the composition. The proper pro-
portions of these metals is regulated by the size of the
type, a greater quantity of antimony being employed
for small than large letters.

Whtn the type is cast fVom the mould, it is in a rough
state, and as soon as a heap has accum<<lated on the
caster's table, they are remoed by a boy, who breaks
off the superfluous tag of metal hanging at the end of
each type. From the breaking-bff boy the t)'pe3 are
removed to another place, where a boy is coiiBtantly
engaged in rubbing or smoothing their edges upon a
■tone. Being now tolerably well cleaned, they ar«
next removed to a table, and set up in long lines upon

a frame, wh«re they at-epoliehed and midle Tpadjr fff
use. Whatever be the size of the typest they a*e«ll'
made of a uniform height, and must Ws perftctly tma
in their anglee, otherwise it would be quite impossibl*'
to lock them together^ A single ' irregular typ* would
moet likely derange a whole page. The haghtofa
type le, or ought to be, exactly one iueh; btit founderii
mueh to their disetadit, do not Mt with unifennity in
tiiia particular, the letters of some rounders being* kighur
than these of others. But all the typei of one olaM of
any feuBder are always Unlfortn in siM add height; and
CO preserve their individaaJity, atlthe letteM, pMnts,fto.
Hlonging to one olass, are distinguished by bM or amor*
notches or nicks on the body of the type, whieh liotehei
range evenly when the types are sett These nioks, M'
we shall immediately see, are also exceedingly usefliil
in guidinjr the hahd of the compositor. Type* an
likewise all equally grooved in the bottom^ to tiiftk»
them stand steadily. i .i nh i ; i

The varieties of size of types in the pMtent 'd*j^
amount to fotrty Mr fifty, enlarging^ by a progressivti
scale, from the minutest used in printing poOket BibtM<
to the largest which is seen in posting-bills on> the
streets. Printers have a distinct name for each size ef
letter, and use about twelve sizes in difiReorent deserip^
tions of book-work; the smallest is called .BH//idfi#,' the
next Z)ianioRc{, and then follow in gradation: lipwafds,
Pearl, Ruby, Nonpareil, Minum, Bnvier (the type irith
which this sheet is printed), Bourgeou, Long Primer^
Smalt Pka, Piett, and Englith: The larger sizes gene.<
rally take their names thus — Two-line Pica, Two-Rrte
Englith, Four, Six, Eight, or Ten-line Pica, &a Other
nations h&-e adopted different designations fer their
letters, principally ftom the names of their inventor*;
for instance, the French entitle Small Vict^Philbvophie,
from the first maker of the letter. Some of these classe*
of letters have derived their names from having been
first employ^ in the printing of the prayers of the!
Romish Church. Thus, Pic\ji,, from the service of th«
mass, termed Pica, or Pie, from the glaring contrast
between the black and white on the page; Primeri
from PrimarUts, the book of prayers to the Virgin;
Brevier, from Breviary; Canon, from the canoM of tlMr
church, &c.

All kinds of types are sold by weight by thefOtinder*.
the price varying <n amount according to the size of
the letter. The smallest siiie, BriUiant, costs about 13s.
per pound; Diamond, about lis. per pound; BreDter^
from 28. to 3s.; English, from Is. 6d. to 2s.; and so on'
in proportion for all intermediate sizes. Expensive as
types t'-.os are, their prices will not appear too hieh^
considering the immense outlay in cutting the punth'ii
and the general iiunufacture. ''n the Iblamond size,
2000 go to a single pound weight of the letter i, and
of the thinnest; space about 5000.

A '"•^pleie assortment of types is called a JPdWiti
which may be regulated to any extent. Every type-
founder has a scale showing the proportional quantity
of each letter required for a fount; and a pecul|ar
scale is required for every language. For the English
language, the following is a typefounder's scale for
the small letters of a fount of types of a particulat size
and weight :

■--o — •

lri<

K.--n V

It :) /Jill :

W ,i(('

J!l^'. :

8300

MOO ,:

:, DA

-mm:,-

.liVjl--

Mtm, i

1600

8000

8C00

400

4400

800

esoe '

•'yj

ym.

12,000

4000

800O •

;l'.rf.

'.ui|00i>«

3000

9000 '

:-.'. iM;:!u

1700

8000

3400

It will be seen from this scale that the letter e is used
much more freque^itly than any other character.

Types are nowhere manufactured so well as in Great
Britain, and for their elegance and regularity of form
they have been much indebted to the late William
Caslon, letter-founder in London. Mr Coslbn was
originally an engraver of ornamental devices on the
barrels of firearms, and- a maker of bookbinders' tools.
The neatness with which he executed his work brought

709

OBAMBEBS^ JSVOMMM'nOK FOB THE PEOPLE.

Um into rtiliit, Mid Bamw appointed to ont • fount of
AnMo iotton fbr an edition of tlie Now Teitainent.
Thif ojourrad about the year 1720, and from tliii period
he enwivd on a luoeemul career ai a letter-founder.
Hitherto the tTpei u»ed in England had been motlljr
imporved from Holland; but Caslon'i lettert, by their
decided wperiority orer thoie of all oonipetiton at
home and abroad, loon put a itop to the importation
of foreign typee, and were httld in such eitimation, ae
to be frequently eent to continental countries. From
1720 till 1780, few booki were printed in England with
the type! of any other thwi thii foundry, which itill
contmuee in enitence in London.

The lagenuity and luoceu of Caslon meet with a
paiallel in the csio of the late Mr Alexander VVileon,
ti^pefonnder in Glaigcw. This p4rson, b/ a strong
edort of jpersereranoe under difficult' « ^egan to cut
punohei for types at his natire towp, 8t irews, about
the year 1740, and there opened a le '. jufdry — the
flnt established in Scotland — ib c< ,jax.y with an
equally enterprising individual named Bain. In 1744,
Meisn Wilson and Bain removed wilh their foundry
to the neighbourhood of Qlasgow, where it long flou-
rished. The types produced oy Mr Wilson were ex-
ceedingly neat, and even elegant, and became the real
foundation of the fame of the Messrs Foulis, printers,
whose editions of the Classics were printed from them.
Branches of the Glasgow letter-foundry were after-
wards established in the English and Scottish capitals.
In Edinbui^gh, besides i^e foundry of the Messrs
Wilson, grandsons of the first of the name, the prin-
cipal establishment of the kind is that of Me<°rs Millar
and Company, whose types we consider as S: .nding in
the tint claes in respect of neatness, beauty, and regu-
larity. They are largely employed in the printing of
Bibles, newspapers, and other works in which a small
typo is required; and it is with letter from this exten-
nre foundry that Cuambebs's Journal and the present
publication are executed.

The large letters used in posting and handbills are
manufkctured chiefly at Sheffield. In this kind of
types very great improrements hare also been made
in recent times; and the varieties are becoming yearly
more numerous and ornamental in character. The
letter used in printing in North America is made prin-
oipally at New York; and the style of both typo)?raphy
and presswork in that countrjr is rapidly improving,
and now almost competing with the products of the
English press.

COHPOSIKO.

All the types in use in the printing-office are sorted
in caaek, or shallow boxes, with divisions. There are
two kinds of cases — the upper and Imoer cote; the latter
lying nearest the compositor upon the frame for their

support. The an-
nexed illustra-
tion exhibits the
arrangement of
the cv.ie» and
positi' of the
comp -itor — the
lower case being
immediately un-
der his hand, tlie
upper case di-
rectly above in n
slanting position,
and the under
part of the frame
stocked with
coses of different
founts. In the
upper case are
placed all the
mpitalt, imall capitals, accented letters, a few of the
points, and characters used as references to notes. In
the lower case lie all the small letters, figure*, the re-
mainder of the points, and spaces to place betuixt the
710

words. Inthelownr.nealphabetioalamngMBantitpM*
served) each letter has a lai;ger or smaller box allotted
to it, aooordinc as it is more .^ less frequently required;
and all those letters most in request are nlaoed at the
nearest convenient distance to the compositor. By thi«
ingenious and irregular division of the.lower case, much
time is saved to the compositor, who requires no label
to direct him to the spot where lies the particular letter
he wants. To a stranger in a printing-office, nothing
appears so remarkable as the rapidity with which the
compositor does his work; but habit very soon loads
the hand rapidly and mechanically to th# letter re-
quired. When Italia letters have to be introduced, they
are taken from r. separate pair of cases of the same fount.
The process of composing and forming types into
pages may now be adverted to. Placing the copy or
manuscript before him on the upper case, and standing
in front of the lower case, the compositor holds in his
left hand v^hat is termed a composing-stick. Some-
times thie instrument is of wood, with a certain space
out in it of a particular width; but more common! v it
if made of iron or brass, with a movable aide, which,
by means of a screw, may be regulated to any width
of line. In either case, the composing-stick is made
perfectly true and square. One by one the compositor
lifts and puts the letters of each word and sentence,
and appropriate points, into his stick, securing each
with tne thumb of his left hand, and placing them
side by side from left to right along the line. When
he places a letter in the stick, he does not require to
look whether he is placing it with the face in its proper
position. Ilia object is accomplished by lookmg at
what is called the nicA, which must be placed
outwards in his composing-stick. (See adjoining
representation of a type.) This is one of those
beautiful contrivances for saving labour which
experience has introduced into every art, and
which are as valuable for diminishing the cost of
production as the more elaborate inventions of
machinery. When he arrives at the end of his
line, the compositor has a task to perform in
which the carefulness of the workman is greatly
exhibited. The first letter and the last must be at the
extremities of the line: there must be no opaces left in
some instancec, and no crowding in o^*^ rs, as we see in
the best manuscript. Each metal tf\,^ .. of a constant
thickness, aa far as regards that particular size of letter;
though all the letters are not of the SArae thickness.
The a(\justmeut8, therefore, to complete the line with
a word, or at anyrate with a syllablu, must be made by
varying the thickness of the spaces between each word.
A good compositor is distinguished by uniformity of
spacing: ho will not allow the words to be very close to-
g<!ther in some instances, and with a large gap between
them in others. His duty is to equalise the spacing as
much ai< lie possibly can; and this is in somo cases very
troublesome. In composing poetry or similar matter,
where there is always a blank apace at one of the ends
of the line, spacing is very easily accomplished by fill-
ing up the blank with larger spaces, or quadrat*. But
wliether prose or poetry, the matter of each lino must
be equally adjusted and ju$l\fitd, so as to correspond
in point of compactness with the previously set li:'.c3.
The process of composing is greatly facilitated by the
compositor using a thin slip of brass, called a lelting-
rule, which he places in the composing-stick when he
begins, and which, on a line beint; completed, he pulls
out and places upon the front of the line so completed,
in order that the types he sets may not come in contact
with the types behind them, but glide smoothly into
their places to the bottom of the composing-stick.

When tho workman has set up as many lines as his
composing-stick will conveniently hold, he liile them
out by grasping them with the fingers of each hand,
and thus tcking them up as if they were a solid piece of
metal. He then places the mass in an elongated board,
termed a galley, which has a led^e on one or perhaps
both sides. The facility with which some compoaitora
can lift what is called a Itatuiful, of movable type with ■

nUNTDfO.

out dennctng » itnf^le letter ti ymj remarkable. Thli
lort of ikill can only be attained by practice; and one
of the eererest mortificationi which the printer's ap-
prentice hi< to endure, ii to toil for an hour in picking
up about a thousand letters, and then see the fabric
destroyed by his own unskilfulness, leaving him to
mourn over his heap of broken type, technically deno-
minated pie.

Letter by letter, and word by word, is the compos-
ing-stick filled; and by the same progression the gal-
ley is filled by the contents of successiTe sticks. W^en
the compositor has set up an many lines as flll a page,
he binds them tightly round with cord, and lemoveg
them from the galley. The annexed cut is a represen-
tation of a small page of types tied up, and placed on
a board: —

Sometimes, as in the case of newspaper and similar
work, the hancffiiU of type are accumulated till they
fill the galley, and are then remored in long columns.
After the matter is thus so far prepared, it is the duty
of the pressman to take an impression or first proof
from the types, in order that the compositor may correct
the errors which are sure to have been made. Proofs
are usually taken by means of an old large press kept
for the purpose. After the galley matter is corrected,
and re-corrected by the compositor, it is divided into
pages of the size wanted; and head-lines, or fibres in-
dicating the number of the page, being added, the
pages are arranged upon a large firm table, and there
securely fixed up in an iron frame or ahess, by means
of slips of wood and wedges, or quoins.

This process, which is called imposing, being com-
pleted, and the face of the types being levelled by a
plainer and mallet, the form, as it is called, is proved,
and prepared for press. Proof-sheets being taken, they
are subjected to the scrutiny both of a reader employed
in this peculiar function in the office, and of the author.
These having made their marks pointing out words and
letters to be altered or corrected, the compositor once
more goes over the form, correcting the errors by lift-
ing out the letters with a bodkin, and, when revised,
the sheet is pronounced ready for working. It may be
explained that the imposing table at which all these
corrections are made is usually composed of smooth
stone or marble, or cast-iron on the top, and requires
to be a substantial fabric.

It need scarce^v be told that the size of books greatly
varies; but the si^es are all reducible to a standard
determined by the number of leaves into which a sheet
of paper is folded. The largest size ia denominated
folio, being simply a sheet folded into two leaves or
folios ; and the next quarto, or u sheet folded, as the
name implies, into four leaves. The most common
size is octavo, each sheet of which contains eight leaves,
or sixteen pages ; the next is duodecimo, containing
twelve leaves, or twenty-four pages in the sheet ; and
the next octodecimo, or eighteens, containing thirty-six
pages in a sheet. There are many other sizes, such
as twenty-fmrs, &c. To know how to place pages of
types in a fonn so as to produce, when printed, a
regular series upon paper, is one of the branches of
the art to be acquired by the young compositor.

PROORESSIVE IMPROVEMENTS IN TVPOGRAPHY.

The following particulars, relative to the aarly pro-
ductions of the press, will show how the style of book-
printing was gradually improved : — • With respect
to their forms, they were generally either large or

small foliot, or at leaat quartoit the lesser sliei went
not in use. The leaves were without running title,
direction word, number of pages, or divisions into para-
graphs. The character itself was a rude old Oothio
mixed with Secretary, designed on purpose to imitate
the handwriting of those times; the words were printed
so close to one another, that it was difficult and tedious
to be read, even bv those who were used to manuscripts,
and to this method ; and often led the inattentive
reader into mistakes. Their orthography was various,
and often arbitrary, disregarding method. They had
very frequent abbreviations, which in time grew so
numerous and difficult to b* understood, that there was
a neoesiiity of writing a book to teach the manner of
reading them. Their periods were distinguished by no
other points than the double or single one — that is, the
colon ana full point; but they, a little after, introduced
an oblique stroke, thus /, which answered the pur|>ose
of our comma. They used no capital letter to begin a
sentence, or for proper names of men or places. They
left blanks for the places of titles, initial letters, and
other ornaments, in order to have them supplied by
the illuminators, whose ingenious art, though in vogue
befo'.v, and at that time, did not long surrlve the
masterly improvements made by the printers in this
branch of their art. Those ornaments were exquisitelj'
fine, and curiously variegated with the most beautiful
colours, and even witli gold and silver; the margins,
likewise, were frequently charged with a variety of
figures of saints, birds, beasts, monsters, flowers, &c.
which had sometimes relation to the contents of the
page, though often none at all. These embellishments
were very costly; but for those that could not afford a
great price, there were more inferior ornaments, which
CO M be done at a much easier rate. The name of the
pr place of his residence, &c. &c. were either

wh(.. neglected, or put at the end of the book, not
without some pious ejaculation or dozology. The date
was likewise omitted, or involved in some crampt cir-
cumstantial period, or else printed either at full length
or by numerical letters, and sometimes partly one and
partly the other — thus, c e thousand CCCC and Ixziiii,
&c. ; but all of them at the end of the book. There
was no variety of characters, no intermixture of Roman
and Italic; they are of later invention; but their pages
were continued in a Gothic letter of the same size
thriughout. They printed but few copies at once, for
200 or 300 were then esteemed a large impression;
though, upon the encouragement received from '.he
learned, they increased their numbers in proportion.'

About 1469-1470, alphabetical tables of the first
words of each chapter were introduced, as a guide to the
binder. Catch-words (now generally abolished) were
first used at Venice by Vindeline de Spira. Early
printed books had no signatures. Signatures are those
letters of the alphabet which are put at the bottom of
the right-hand pages of sheets to distinguish their
order. When the alphabet is finished, a second begins
A a, or 2 A, instead of a single A; and when that is
terminated, A a a, or .3 A, begin the third; and so on.
In order to indicate more correctly the order of each
sheet, printers add figures to the initial letter on tlie
third, fifth, and seventh pages; the numbers of these
figures, which do not pass the middle of the sheet,
point out the size of tne edition. Thus A 2 on the
third page, A 3 on the fifth, and A 4 en tlie seventh,
show a work to be in 8vo.; in the 12mo. size, A .5 on the
ninth page, and A 6 on the eleventh page, &c. ; but it
is now customary to give signatures only on the first
and third pages' of 8vo., and on the first, third, and
fifth pages' of 12mo.

In some modern French works, figures are substi-
tuted for letters, and the other leaves are marked by
asterisks. The invention of signatures is ascribed by
M. MaroUes to John of Cologne, who printed at Venice
in 1474; the Abbe Rive attributes it to John Koelhof,
a printer at Cologne, and a contemporary with the
former, from whom we have a work dated in 1472. U
is, howeT3r, of little consequence who was the orid-

711

OHAMBKBfirai INFOillillMrrrOB THB PIOPLEL

ra|M<«iit*,/nMi«iy: toxUnMitlvModlw hk foMi«|r th«
•heet.'sadi Mfc fWwiUy inMok'teo looHpiciioiM upon
ik»f%gm.i< ■"■J ,{'•'■'< ' i-i'--'!', '^ii
; ' On*' i)f Ih* M*t ioiprvMramtt ' m tb« «trle of typo*
iiifky bM bam Iho (UuuUm) «f fthbronatimio uid
MiniMted lotton fraak *ke founta; Vdfinorly »bbr«vU>
tkiM ««i«i very comiuOn': th* w«vd M« mi indicated hy
*h* loiter y and i»«nMll «Kb<nw it; «h« oonjunelion aiirf
»M indioated by ^, wbicb hi a ooatraotion of et, Thei*
•mo loaiiy of 4fai« tpeciw of abbroriationo in printing
both: tito EngUih aiid Latif iMBgnageo, and those were
not mora uaKomty thaii tke cenueoted letter* : laeh,
forimtanoe, ai the junotioii of the letter* c and ( by a
curve ■trokefrom the top of one to the other. In
recant timet, all thete oonneotad lettan hai* b^n dii<
need, with th^ eioeption of J> and^, beeaiiM the head
•f the oonmon /would preH aga^t tha /, and be broke.
Another revf git^a* iinprovcmout haa been effected in
the dfnniwal of the long a, in the eaiw of two of thia
ltM«ti eomingicgether.

adj i^iJ x'"" itoiuwn^-., ,! •)tu ill iuolo> Diii

t)iU 'toyiiliiwi. M,lt MKBEOXVPIJia. J.i' .„(| ■\., ^tifjiu,

W« maj now efihr a brief explanation of the procen
of itenotjrpiag, which bus been of immenw eerrioe to
literature. Stereotyping ii the mannfaoturing of ficti-
tiou^ or a« the word i ignifief tolid, pagea of typea, and
the invention i« geiieroJIy attributed to a Mr WiUiam
tiled, of Edinburgh, about the year 172i5. When the
art waa praperlj made known, it waa hilled with ao>
elamation by the printing and publiahing world; but
a* ezperienoe de*cloped it* powcra, it was found to be
■triatty appUoable only to a partiouiar kind of work.

Wher a page is intended to be atereotyped, the tame

grooest < f putting up tha typea it gona through that we
are a'.i-eadr described ; instead, however, of being
carried to the preie, the page it pluatered orer with
liquid ttucco to the thioknest of about half an inch, so
that a level cako is formed on the sur&ice of the types.
As soon at the stucco hardens, which it does almost im*
mediate^, the cake is separated from the types, and, on
being turned up, shows a complete, hollow or mould-like
Mpretentation of the faces of the typo*> and et erythiug
else iu the page. There being no longer any use for
the types, they are carried off and distributed. As for
the cake, it is put into an ovon. and baked to a certain
degree of heat and hardness, like a piece of pottery. It
is next laid in a square iron pan, having a lid of the
sanie: metal, with holes at the comers. At the bottom
of the pan theire '» a movable plate, called thejlouting
plate; and upon this plate, whish has a smooth ac-
curat« surface, the mould is placed with its foco down-
wards. The lid being now placed and held tightly on
by a tc>r,.w, the pan, by the assistance of a crane and
other mechanism, is immersed in a pot of molten type-
xnetal'-^ composition of lead, antimony, and block tin
— and bein;; allowed to fill by means of the holes, it is
at length taken out and put aside to cool. On opening
the pan, a curious appearance i» presented. The metal
baa run into the mould fiide of the cake, and formed a
thin plate all over, exliibiting the perfect appearance
of tJie facM of the types on which the stucco was plas-
tered. Thus is procured a plate, or fictitious page of
types, not thicker than the sixth of an inch. When
the plate comes out of the pan, it is in a somewhat
rude state, and has to be caretully pruned at the edges,
its little tp«cka picked clean> and, if necessary, cue or
more bad letters out out, and replaced by soldering iu
the heads of movable types. The plate is also planed
upon the bock, in order to reduce all the pla'es of a
sheet to one unifo'm thickness, by means of an inge-
nious rotatory cuttiug machine upon which it is fixed.
The stereotype pl.ttes, k> prepared, are next taken
to the prill tiiig-ofiice, and made ready for press. This
is done by placing i'aeui upon iron or wooden blocks,
10 that both plate Mid block make up the exact height
of a pagu of Tp;ti types. They arc fixed to the blocks
by the aid ■ji small metal catches at the aides, head,
Hud foot, which uUchcs are held fast by slips of furni-
712

Yw« pMpifiywedsad, NetwitNtaMWliBt »h« gw*w > ra
taken tb taiklng the platat Iwvd.ksid of a «qiferm
thickness, it is seldom thai ibcya^a ^rfcot) asid to
make thenv as> aoourata a* poesibla fisr m iair impression,
srtrapaof tbiu pasteboard or pap** ara placed betwial
Uiem and the liiocha at the thJnnast parts. When tha.
imprfsstonia completed, tb* plate* are unfixed, packed
upi and laid aside far future use. Now for the ipecifio
utility of stereotyping.

In all cases af oomaaon book-work^ It is boat to print
fhim typea to the amount of tha oepiea nquirsd, and
then distributa tha types; but in meat casts of books
published hi parts, cheeta* or numbers^ tiereotyping be-
comae abtolutely neoetsary. It is easy to percaira the
reason for this. When books are published in numbers,
it often happens that many more copies are told of one
number thim ef aaothev; and ^nl•aa the typea be kept
up to complete aets in the hands o^ tha tiubllsher, or
to print oopiea according to the increaarJ demand, a
serious loM is sustained. The manuilMtuce of stereo-
type plates is, thMcibie, simply a weans of keeping up
Mtitious types to answer future demands, at on ex-
pense greatfy inferior to that of keeping the actual
pages staading; or of putting the typea up anew.

Another important advantage of stereotyping is, that
any number of tets of plates can be cast from the same
types, and these plates sent to be printed in different
pasts of the won ' . Thus a work set up and stereo-
typed in Bdinburgh, may be printed without the ex-
pense of recomposing in London, Paris> New York, or
any other city to which the stereotype plates may be
sent; and ^his without any risk of error or deviation
from the original — a feature scarcely to be obtained
by the uee of movable types. In illustrated worky this
advantage is especially noticeable— casts of an expen-
sive woodcut, for instance, boing readily obtaine4 fov
the use of several and simultaneous publications.

i.nl -jilj I'.

PROCESS OF PBINTINO.

1,1 •PIH. Ml'.Uc

Tha duties of the compositor do not involre tno pro-
ocss of printing. When the forms are duly prepared
in the composing-room, they are carried into the press-
room, whero they come under the charge of the press-
men. The earliest printing-presses were exceedingly
rude, and seem to have resembled the common screw
press, with a contrivance for running the form under
the point of piessure. This must have been not only
a laborious and slow operation, but one exceedingly
defective, from the difficulty of regulating the impres-
sion, and the risk of injuring the faces of tho types. The
defects in these original presses were at length remedied
by an ingenious Dutch mechanic, Willcm Jansen Blacw,
V ho carried on the business of a mathematical mstru-
ment maker at Amsterdam. He contrived a press, in
which the carriage holding the form was wound below
the point of pressure, which was given by moving a
handle attached to a screw hanging in a beam having

a spring, which spring caused the screw to fly bark at
soon as the impression was civen. This species of
press, which was almost entirely formed of wood, con-
tinued iu general us* in eveiy country in Europe till

.a.nos'i stiTT ji; FBjmiXikirHZi fi'-AnmnuM^

I (■-

til* bagmn'rag of lU piuMt ceniiury. With oartMii
IrrM pMran attaohed to iha Mr««r Mid hMidl«, il ia
wprwMitcd in tfce pna«dti)g ooluntii.

In «oDnwtion with. Ihii rtpnwittotkm of th« old corn.
ro«n pr*st| the pToctM of printing tn»j b« deocrilied.
Th» fonuilwiug Iwd on th« sola oC the prew («), it fixed
at the aidn, lO m to fender it iiiunovkble from it* jtoai.
tioii. Thei« I era ti»o men employed ; one putt ink on
tiie form either by lueaiii of ttutted balls or br » oomr
potltlDn rolWr-^tbe other worlia the preaa. The latter
lifte a blank abeat from a table at hia aide, and plaoaa
it on what h called the tympan {t), which ia oompoaed
of parchment nnd blanket atuff, Atted in a frame, and
tightened like the top of n, drum (and huuce ita name),
and which, by inenua of hingea connecting it with the
sole, folda down like a lid over the form. Aa the aheet,
however, would fall off in the act of being brought down,
a akeloton-like alender fraiiio, called a fiitktl (J), ia
hinged to the upper extremity of the tymnan, over which
it ia brought t>o 'hold on the paper. Thua the friaket
being flnt ft>lded down over the tympany and the tym-
pan nest folded down over tho form, tho inipreaaion ia
ready to be taken. Thia ie done by the left >- ind of
the preseinan winding tho carriago below the platten (p)
or pteMing aurfaoe, and the imprea«ion ia performed by
the right hand p«illing the handlu attached to the
screw mechaniam. The cftrringe ia then wound back,
tlie printed abeot lifted off', and another put on the
tympan, the fomi again inked> and ao on aucceaaiTely.
In the abOTO engraving the preaa appeara with the
Mtfcet hnd tympan aloping upwards, ready to receive
the aheet, the friaket being suatained from falling book-
warda by a alip of wood depending from the ceiling.
One of the greateat niceties connected with thia art,
is the printing of the aheet on the aecond aide in auch
a manner thut eaeh page, nay, each line, ahall fall ex-
actly Oh the corrcaponding page and line on the aide
firat printed. Tu produce this desirable effect., two iron
pointa are fixed in the middle of the aidea of the frame
of the tympan. Which make two amall holea in the
aheet duHng the firat pressure. When the aheet ia laid
on to receive an impression from the second form, these
holea are placed un the eame pointa, so aa to cause the
two iuipresaiona to ecii'eBpond. This ia termed pro-
ducing reginter; and unless good register is eftected,
the printing haa a v*ry indiiferert appearance. Ex-
pert workmen perform these operatiuns with surpriaing
rapidity, though with considerable labour. Two men
employed at a press take the process of pulling and
inking for alternate quantities. After the forms are
wrought off, they are washed in a solution of potash to
remove the remains of the ink, which ia of a thick
olcagi'JUs c^mrocter, and then carried back to the
composing-room to be distributed. This last operation
is very speedily performed by the compositors.

To suit paper for printing, it ia necessary to wet it
some houra previoua to ita being used. This is done by
dipping alternate quires in water, and afterwards press-
ing the mass with a heavy weight, or by the screw or the
hydraulic press, till the whole is in an equably half-
dry or damp state.

Ailler the sheets are printed, they are hung upon
poles in the printing-oflice to be dried— a procesa which
is effected slowly or speedily according to the degree
of hcHt applied. On being dried, they are individually
placed between fine glazed boards, and in this condi-
tion subjected in a moss to the pressure of a powerful
press. On reraovnl, the indentations of the types are
found to be levelled, and the whole sheet to be smooth
and ready for tho operations of the bookbinder. Lat-
terly, a great ini]>rovemcnt has been effected in the
amoothing process, by employing the hydraulic or water-
press, which gives an enormous pressure with little aid
from manual labour. (See Hydraulics, Vol. I.)

INK A.ND INUINa-ROIXEIW.

Much of the beauty of good printing depends on the
quality of the ink, which it requires considerable skill
(0 manulkcture. The ink used by the ewliest printers

was of suoU excellent quality, thai iii bmit inatuoas
it reuaoM intenaelv blavk to thia day ; but a long paried
aftacwarda elapsad during whkli rwy bad ink waa
employed. Within the (iresent century, great im^va*
monta hove taken place iiL the compeaitiun of printing
ink, which ia now produced of a good quality in London
by several manufacturera; it ia, however, atill inferior
to the iiuer kinds of ink uaad in Parit, the French hav-
ing evidently aurpMacd tha Kiigliah in producing a puaa
and inteuaely-Uaok ink which will prsaerve ita colour.
Printing ink ia conipoaed of genuine liiiaaad oil, boiled
to the consistency of a syrup, and then wall mixed and
ground with laupblaok. The qualitiea daaired in tha
composition are depth and durability of colour, and
that it should be stiff without strong adheaion, and
keep soft and mellow, but dry quickly after being put
upon the paper. It ia mode of difiisrent qualitiea, from
la, (id. to Sa. and upwarda per pound weight— <-tka
oheapar aorta being of an indifferent black, but work-
ing eaaily, and aetting rapidly, while the higher-priced
require l^oth care and time in the working and drying.
The colour of the work can be increaaed only by the
quality of the ink, and the better the quality of the
ink, the more time it will take the pressman to work it,
and the better also may be the quality of the paper {
for it ia impoasible to work good ink u{K)n iiiforior
paper. Aa the depth of colour dependa greatly upon
the degree of boiiing to which the linseed oil haa bisau
aubjected; and as aorae pief'er a dead block, aoma a
brighter black, and othera a block with a little bloom
on it, it ia customary for partioa to bring up their inka
to the denred shade by the admixture of Prussian blue
or indigo. .. In fact there ia no branch of the art which
haa received ao much attention aa the inking, and,
strange to say, there ia none which afibrda more room
for further improvement.

One of the greatest of recent improvementa in the
art of printing ia in the mode of inking the forms.
From the days of Guttenberg this had been done by
stuffed cushions, or balls covered with skins, by which
no regularity could be preserved, and no speed ac-
quired. Earl Stanhope, when he invented his improve-
ment on the press, attempted the plan of inking by
menna of rollers, but he could sot discover any aptciea
of skin suitable for the purpose: all that thia noblemtn
BO anxioualy desired waa at length accompliahed, in
consequence of a chance observation of a process in the
Staffordshire potteries, where rollers formed of a com-
position were us^ i. A Mr Forster, employed at a book-
seller's printiiig-office at M'oy bridge, was the firat who
applied it to letterpress printing, by spreading it in a
melted state upon coarse canvas : the inventors of
printing-inachinea soon caught the idea, and, by run-
ning the composition aa a coat upon wooden cylindera,
produced the perfect inking-rollers.

The composition ia formed of treacle and glue, which,
being heated and melted together, are poured into long
iron moulds, in which the central rod haa previously
been inserted. The process resembles that by which
moulded candles are made, the central rod being nearly
in the same predicament in the one cose as the wick in
the other. When taken out of the mould, the roller ia
a cylinder of soil and elastic matter, resembling India^
rubber. If required for th". hand-press, it ia connected
with a handle after the mat .i^'r of a garden roller. The
ink being placed, in moderate quantity, at the back of
a smooth metal table, the workman, grasping the
handle, draws the roller backwards and forwards along
the table, distributing a little ink equally all over ita
surface; nnd having thus diffused aome ink all over the
roller, he applies the aanie to the types, drawing it
backwards and forwards over theni, to make aure that
all have been inked. By this plan tho types are inked
more equably than by the balla, and in less than half
the time. Aa rollers formed of treacle and glue oi-e
eaaily injured, not particularly durable, and suuject
moreover to be influenced by temperature, attcinpla
have recruiiy been made to introduce vulcanised India-
rubber and certain compounds of gutta imxiha, but with

713

OHAUBBBM IKFOIIUfRCar fOR THE noPVL

wka* MMeiH (I ia jNik to* fnmuiknt* to datonnint. At
prvMiik, tb* molt umAiI roIlM* an thoM compi M d of
glue Mid iiwol*— an« Mrt of tbn former to thrM of
tbo iKttoTi with tko •dditio* of kbout oiie-fuurth p»rt
of PMrU-wbitob Homo Mtiom, howeror, only uie the
■Imple flue and treacle, while otheni uie a raiall
quantity of iiinglaaa or a few drnpi of iweet oil.

Within theae few jreari a plan haa be«n drviied for
moving the rollart over the formi bj an apparatus
attached to the prew. 8clf-inking preiaei are now
coming into uie ; the peculiar atlrantagei of tite inTen-
tion being a more regular and unifonii diitributioii cf
the ink, and the taving of manual labour.

IHTBOVED PEINTINa'PRUaBk

Ai already mentioned, the original nrinting-preu, ae
■lightlT improTed by RIaew, remained in general uio
throughout Buropu till the beginning of the present
century. Its dcfeeti were of such a nature, that it
■eemi wonderful that no effort was made during so
long a time to remedy them. The surface communi-
cating the imiiression, or flatttn, was generally only
the size of half a sheet, and so after one portion of a
form was pressed, the carriage had to be still farther
wound in, and the remaining portion pressed. The
consequence was, that besides losing time, the impres-
sions upon a single sheet were not alwayi uniform— one
part being perhaps harder pressed than the other.

At length, near the close of the eighteenth i^entniy,
the celebrated Charles Karl of Stanhope applied his in-
genious though eccentric mind to the improvement of
the printing-pms. His lordship's improvements did
not go the length of altering the general form or con-
struction of the press. He left the same plan to be
pursued of winding tho carriage below the ptalten by a
nandle and rounce, and of pulling the impression by
the application of the right hand to the scat of power.
What he aooomplished was the constructing of the
press with iron instead of wood, and tha. of a size suf-
ficient to print the whole surface of a sii^et, and of
applying such n combined action of levers to the screw
as to make the jiull a great deal less laborious to the
pressman; the mechanism altogether being such as to
permit much more rapid and efficient working.

The Stanhope prtst, which is here represented, con-
siuts of a massive frame of iron cast in one piece. This
is the body of the press, in the upper part of which a
nut is fixed for the reception of the great screw, and
its point operates upon the upper end of a slider fitted
into a dovetail groove formed between the two vertical
bars of the frame. The slider haa the piatten firmly
attached to the lower end ot it; and being accurately
fitted between the side guides, the platten must rise
and fall parallel to itself when the screw is tiumed.

The weight of the platten and slider it counterbalanced
by a heavy weight behind the press, suspended by a
lever which acts upon the slider to lift it up, and keep
it always bearing against the point of the screw.
There are two projecting pieces cost with the main
714

fauiM, to Mpport tho oaniage whan the pvU b mada ;
to tkaaa rails «i« sctewad, and placed asactly huriaan-
tal for the carriage to run upon, when it la carried
under the presc to reeeiva the impression, or drawn out
to remove the printed sheet. The carriaga is moved by
a rounce or handle, with leathern girths, very similar
to the wooden press. Upon the ax^ of this handle a
wheel is fixed, round which leathern belts are passed,
one extending to the back of the carriage to draw it in,
and two others which pass round the wheel in an oppo-
site direction to draw it out. Ily this means, wlien the
handle is turned one wav, it draws out the oifriago ;
and b reversing the motion, it is carried in. There [»
likewise a check strap which limits the motion of the
wheel, and, consequently, tho action of the carriage.
The principal improvement of F.ai'i itanhope's preRH
consists in the mode of giving motion to the main screw
of it, which is not do:iu aiinply by a lever attached to
the screw, but by a second lever. The main screw haa
a short lever fixed on the upper end of it, and this
communicates by an iron bar or link to another lever
of rather shorter radius, which is fixed upon the upper
end of a second spindle, and to this the handle or lever
by which the press is worked is fixed. Now, when the
workman pulls this handle, he turns round the spindle,
and by the connection of the rod the main screw turns
with it, and causes the platten to descend with it and
produce the pressure. But it is not simply this alone,
for the power of the handle is transmitted tn tho screw
in a ratio proportioned to the eflfect required at the
diflTerent parts of the pull ; thus, at first, when the
pressman takes the handle, it lies in a direction parallel
to the frame, or across the press ; and the short tlever
(b< '<arly perpendicular thereto) is also neariy ut

rign '• the connecting rod; but the lever of tlio

SOL'. i considerable angle with the rod, which

ther ..jts upon a shorter radius to turn the screw;

becau.. j the real power exerted by any action upon a
!ever is not to be considered ab acting with the full
length of the lever between its centres, but with the
distance in a perpendicular, drawn from the line in
which the action is applied to the centre of the lever.

The obvious excellence of the Htanhopian improve-
ment in gaining power for the handle, led a number of
printers to apply this species of lever power to the screw
of the common press, but we believe not with marked
success. The improvements of Lord Stanhope were
speedily followed by the attempts of other individuals
in Great Britain and America to remedy the ancient
defects in printing mechanism. 80 numerous, indeed,
have these attempts been since the beg. ining of tho
present century, that it is quite out of our power to
mention them in detail. With, we believe, one or two
exceptions, all the modem improvers of the printing-
press have confined their efforts chiefly to the procejH
of communicating pressure to the platten, so as to
modify labour, and procure greater rapidity of working.
In these cases the screw has been generally dismissed,
and power procured sometimes by the action of two or
more inclined planes working against each other ; in
other instances ny fulcrums and levers; and in others
by the straighteninK of a joint. The latter is an excecJ-
inglr simple and beautiful form of power, and may
eakify be comprei; ended when we say that it resembles
the b'mding pnd iitr.MghteRing of the knee-joint : when
the knee of the upright bar of the press is Iwnt, the
platten is drawn up ; and when the knee is forced by
a lever into a perpemlicular position, the platten sinks,
and the pressure is communicated. This may be con-
sidered the most efiicient mode of compressing the
platten yet discovered, and it would be diflicult to
rival it in the properties of simplicity and rapidity of
execution. Nevertheless, such is the number and va-
riety of improved presses in the present day, that it
would not be easy to decide upon which has the best
claima to the notice of printers. Among those which
have gained a large share of approbation may be men-
tioned the Columbian prrts, wnich is of American in-
vention. This new press, a representation of which ii

i*RiNHJro.

umraed. wm brought to thii countrj In 181K hy Mr
(iMig* Cljrniar of t'hilaUelphift, ftnd iiiiula tha objaot of
» ^iftteiit, Tha preuiiig power in thii iniUnee it pro-
cufed by » lon^ b«r or liMidl* acting upon a oonibina-

tion of exueeil-
ingly powerful
loven (aaaa)
almve the plat-
ten; the return
of the hatitlle
or leren beio^
• li'eotetl by
iiieatiiiofooun-
tcrpniiM or
weight* (c o).
For eaM and
facility of puli
thii preM ii
pivferred by
ijiiioit work-
ii>oii, and cer-
tainly the
powerful ootn-
inand which
tha lererage
enables the
workman to
•xeroiee, \» fafourablo to delicacy and exactneii of
prinlinft — hie arm feeling, ai it were, through the
•eriea of leveri to tha very face of the typei.

The Tarioui improved presaea which wo have ii"tlced
are, in nioat caaai, made of at leaet three lizei ; nninuly,
demif, roffftl, and tujier-royal — that it, they are respoc-
tively ablu to print ibeeti of these lizei ; and they ac-
cordingly vary in price from about ilSO to j£BO each.
They are nearly all manufactured by the patenteee in
London and Edinburgh. In the preient day, the o!d
wooden preu of Klaew ii entirely discarded from use
in printing, and it is only to be seen occasionally in
an obscure corner of the printing-office, reduced to the
humble character of a proof-press.

The only instance worth mentioning, in whi<'li an
improved press was made of quite a new construction,
was in the case of the ingenious invention of ^Ir John
Huthveu of Edinburgh. This mechanician contrived
a press in which the types stand upon a fixed frame or
table, while the pressing part or platten la brought
over the form by being hurled forwnnl on wheels. On
being brought over the form, a depending hook or notch
at each end of the platten is caught and pulled down
by the combined action of levers beneath the tabic, and

operated upon by the left hand of the pressman. This
was an exceedirgly meritorious invention, and many
presses on this plan were manufactured and sold ; but
experience has evinced that the contrivance is only
Tamable when applied to small presses, not larger than
foolscap sixe, and chiefly useful for executing jobs. Mr
Ruthren make* his presees as mall m quarto size; and

as they stand on • table, and can b« oaiily wrrra||ht by
any gentleman, no batter ))niM could ba rogonunondaU
to the nutioa of tha amateur printer. Tha above mil
presents a oorract represantation of Mr Uuthvcn'a
press, which, it will ba paroaivad, ii of an cxeaadkigljr
com|)ttot and portable form.

TUB CUACBL.

It is worth while to remark, that till the present day
the phraseology used in relation to tha mechanical
details of the printer possesses certain traoa* of tha
early oonnaction of tha art with men of learning. A
number of the teohnioal terms, as may ba setn from tho
descriptions we have given, are a corruption of Latin
words. We mar instance tt/nipan, from tympanum, a
drum, and ite( (let it stand), which is uswl at a mark in
correcting proof-sheets. Tha name In-evitir, applied to a
certuiii liiu of type, originated, as has l)eeu already
mentioned, in that letter Iwiiig first uied in printing
the Ureviariei of the itoinith Church. An exceedingly
old practice prevails among printers of calling their
oAice a Chaptl, and under this title tho compositors,
pressmen, and all others engaged in the uilioe, have
been in tho habit of meeting together, and forming a
species of lodge, in order to settle atlairs connected with
the internal arrangements of the ofiioo, or any dlKputcs
which may occur among memberi'. The general im-

rirovemeut in everything connected with printing estab-
ishments, and tho advance of luaunors, have greatly
modified the spirit which used to prevail in these con-
federacies; nevertheless, the appellation of the chapel
remains, and is of traditionary interest. It has been
supposril by many writers that the title of Chapel origi-
nated iu Cuxton's exercising the profession of a printer
in one of tho chapelt in Westminster Abbey ; and it is
exceedingly probable that it has an origin of this
nature, for printing wc<> •>> first carried on in many
places in Engiand in connetttion with religious houses.
Hence in M'Creery's poem, entitled < The i'reaa,' the
author hat the following lines : —

■Oh, Albion I btlll thy gratitude confuas
Tu C'uxton, fuuiiilLT uf llio lirll i.ili Pri'Hn :
Ninco first tliy mountuiiis ruso, iiiul rivers flowud
AVIio on thiiiu Ifli'-'ri ho ricli a boon bcatowttl?
Vet Hianda tho chapel in you flothio nlirino
Wlii"-(' wronnlit tlu) fathiT of our EnifUfili lino.
Our iTt ^«ifl hailed from kinRdoina flirnbroad.
And cherl§hcd In the hnll(jivisl house of f Ion ;
l''roni which wo learn tliu homage it received,
And how onr Bircft ilH heavenly birth Iwlieved.
I'jieh printer lience, howo'er uiiblcat hia wolla,
Wen to thia day hia houBo a Cmapkl culls.'

LAWS Al'FliCIIfiO l'KIN'n:iW.
The proprietors and printers of newspapers, though
entirely free from the oppressive censorsliip which
prevails on the continent, are nevertheless subject
to various laws, enforcing the mode of publication,
the use of stamps, and payment of advertisement
duties; but ])rinters of books, or any common species
of work, aro practically left at liberty to carry on tlu ir
business in any manner or way that seems suitable to
themselves. Each printer, however, by the act 2 V., c.
12, is required to print upoa the front of any sheet, if
printed on one side only, or upon the first or last leaf
of every book consisting of more than one leaf, his
name, place of abode, and business; penalty for omis-
sion £5, and the like penalty for dispersing any luch
publication without the imprint. But no actions for
penalties can be instituted except in the name of the
Attorney or Solicitor - General for England, or Uie
Queen's Advocate in Scotland. On the whole, the
.allied businesses of printing, publishing, and booksell-
iiip; in Great Britain may be regarded as altogether free
— that is, as subject to no restriction which impedes
the circulation of whatever a man chooses to write, pro-
vided it be not libellous, treasonable, or of a grossly
immoral tendency, and even then such offences can
only become subjects of after prosecution. Copyright,

715

CHAIIBBRS'S INFOUMTlOir FOR THl PK0PL8.

M a imtttr of pnfntfti* »mt j"iWy pMt«ct«d fo» a
t«mi ot y««ra; bul athwirtM, tioM iha •bolltioa of Um
my»i prMm|(»llv« m print thi MitkoriMMl vnnion* of
tk« BIM* Mint li«ak of Cmnninn HrkvKr, Uiniv i* no
prwsiidro to tlio fneit kiiii fulUit npiilk'Mion at Iho
|>rintin)( prcan, uuIoh* |Mrli«ipi tho dutjr on p»|Mr, wliWh
KOtt lii(iir«otljr M a cliock Mid obMnicUon.

miNll.Ntl HV MAt'HIMgi,

Altmt all thi iiiK«iiuity uf lA)r<l Htonhopo and that of
hit lucceMora had bMn larlihod on th* prtM, iitill tht
pro«tM of iirintiiiK cnuld not bo eRicutod but wltli ooii>
•idorable fatl^'iio, and at a rata nf opevd mMohi eroator
than that of throwing oW U.'>t) iroprouioni, or Via cnm-
plelo ihaetii, in an hour. It tniiM nftfioar ertdont that
thia waa a itat* of thinfci qnito inoonipatiblo with tli«>
adrancement of kniinlmljroi and th* iMiceiaitr for pro-
duehi/; a larf^ qaantiry of impreuiont in a abort tpaoe
of tWn«, particularly ni r«Karilod nowapapora. It b«-
uanie apparent that an ontlro rtvohttinn was rmuirwl
in the atruoturs of tbo proM; thitt the Mat nrintinK
wirfaco thould be diticnrdod, and cylind«n nrouj^ht
into u«e. We havo \ ow to detoriba how thii Rreat
innilern Invention, applied to printing-machine*, came
to Im! adnptetl :—

In I7.'>0, Mr Nioholaon, tho editor of the ' I'hiloeo.
phiea) Joimial,' procured a patent for certain Iniprove-
inenta in printing, whioh patent enibodiet almoit every
principle ainoe an lucoeiiatVilly applied to prlntlng-
inachinea ; and although he did not carry hie view*
into practical eft'eot, little ha* been left for aubeeqvieiit
engineer* to do, but to apply, in the moat judicious
inunner, the principles he laid down in hi* patent, lie
iiuky therefore bo juatljr couaidered ns the originator of
the great modem inipr«v«nienta tu printing machinery;
for with him oriirinatud the idea of taking tho impre*.
*ion* from tyntH b/ inuau* of cyUnder*, and of inking
the fonu* with rollari inetoad of ball*, which conatitute
the two moat vancntial i>art* uf all ett'ectire modern
printing-iuaelibioa.

Whether Mr NichoUon'i idea* were known to Mr
Kiinif, a Uemian, i* now uncertain; but to him i* due
tho dlalinguishcd merit uf carrying ateani-prtutiug firat
into effpot. jjlf Kwaifr, CQiMeiving it poMible to apply
(team-power' to produce accelerated apeed with the
common pres«, after various unavailing etlbrt* to obtain
a*ti«tanoe from the printer* on tho c\>ntinent, came to
Kngland. Arriving in London about 1U04, he aub-
mitte<l hi* iwheme to aeveral printer* there with no
better aticceas, until introduced to Mr Benaley, eenior,
who, attracted by Mr Kttnig'* plana, entered into ar-
rangement* with him. After pcravvering for *ome
time in ruriou* attempts to accelerate the *peed of the
common press, and at the same time render the attend-
ance of the man wlin inka the type* unnccoaciry, hi*
exertion* resulted, to use hi* own worda, * in diccorer-
ing that they were only entploying a horae to do what
had been Itefore done by a man.' fie, in con*e<)aence,
gave np all idea of hia projoctoti improvement* of the
common lever presa, and turned his attention to Cylin-
lutirAi, Printi.w.

After continucil experiments for some years, a small
niaehine was madi', in which the two leading ieatures
of NicholBon'a invention were embraced (the cylinders
and the inking- rollers), which he exhibited to Mr
Walter, pro()rietor of tho ' Times' newspaper; and on
showing what further improvement* were contemplated,
an agreement was entered into for the erection of two
nmchines for printing that journal. Accordingly, on
the 2Rth November IUI4,the public were apprised that
the number of the * Times' of that date was the first
ever printed by machinery, steam-propelled. At this
period but few person* knew of any attempts going on
fir the attainment of this object; whilst among those
connected with printing, it had often been talked of,
but treated as chimerical.

Aftcrtlieutilityof cylindrical printing had been thas
proved, !t was thought highly desirable that the prin-
ciple should be applied to printing fine bookwork,
716

whera aenurato re||iatir la kidUMMabl«i This waSt i«
a certain uitont, attained by using two Urge oyliadtr*,
(be sheet of paper being aa«ve»ed from tha bottom
of tha flr*t cylinder (wheia it aad veeaived tha fir*t
impraaalon) by means uf tap**, Uadlag in a diagonal
direetlon to lb* top uf tha seooad tsyliiuler, ruuud
which the sheet was carneil till the second aide was
printed. The first machine of this description was
wrectod at Mr llenslay'i oihce, where it vuntiaueU
at work for lume years, till niara modem uiaohines
stt|H!r*ed*d it.

So sanguine w«re tha pataataaa (Mr Klinlg, Mr
Densley, and Mr H. Taylor) that no further Improve-
ment could be elfectetl, that in March lfll7 they issued
a rrospeetn*, ntforing three kind* of machines at high

Knees, and r*i{uirlng a oniistderable aimual premium;
ut w« believe thcae offers were not enibraoed.
In tha cimrse of 1)1111, Mr Napiar and M>i*srs Applo-
gath and Cowner took out patents for improveiuctits iu
uylindrioal printing machinery. Mr Napier's invention
consisted prlnoipaliy in using grippen instead of tapes,
as in Kiinig's, for seising hoHl of and leatling tha sheet
of paper round the eylinders. Ingeniously as this
machine was constructed, the principles upon which
it worked caused it to give way in general esthuation
to those of Applegatta and Cowper. Thi'ia mechani-
cian*' patent, whiuii expired in Itt.'i^, referred princi-
pally to th* application of two drum* placed betwixt
the cylinders to insure accuracy in the register, over
and under which the sheet was convevod in its progrei*
from one cylinder to the other, in*t(.-a<l of being car-
ried, a* in KiVnig'* nmchine, in a straight line from the
one cylinder to tho other; and the mode of diRtri|)uting
the ink upon tablea inat*a<{ of roller* — two prin<iiples
which have secured to machines of this construction a
deci<led preAirence for fine work. Machines of this
construction were made by Anplegath and Cowper for
tli« principal printing establishment* in Ijondon, Paris,
Kdinburgb, and many other citie*; and it i* nearly
upon the model of their madiines that other nianu-
fiicturers now construct their steam - |M'ei*e* for the
execution of ordinary bookwork.

Hrinting-mochinua are now made of various kinds,
adapted to the peculiar descriptions of work for which
they are required. These descriptions uf work may be
classed under two distinct heads: namely, the printing
of newspapers, one side at a time, and tho printing of a
better kind of sheets, or bookwork, both sides at a time.
There can be nothing more easy than to make u machine
capable of first printing one side of a sheet of paper,
and afterwards the second, by the removal of one form,
and the introduction of another; but this process will
not ]>roduce rti/UUr ; the second side may or may not
be on the back of the fir*t, and the work is therefore of
a very inferior a|)pearanca, though luitable enough for
new*paper«, in the working of which de*patch i* chieHy
required. Thi* kind of pre** is therefore the best
adapted to gain that end ; fur tha first side of the («per
may bo printed deliberately, and the second side be
made up to the last moment of time, ami then thrown
off. To produce a machine to print both sides at a time,
and with perfect register, no small degree of iiiatheinn-
tical accuracy, and no small share of ingenuity in tho
mechanician, ai-e required. The great and iinpoi'tant
object to be attained in this kind of machine is to cause
the sheet, after it has received its first impression, to
travel along the sides of the cylinders and drums ut
such a riito as to meet the types of the second side at
the exact point which will cau*e tho second side to fall
with perfect accuracy upon the back of tlie first. To
accomplish this exceedingly desirable end, the cylinders
and drums must revolve at precisely tho same speed
as the carriage underneath ; and therefore any inac-
curacy ill the turning of the axles, the cutting of the
teeth of tha wheels, or any other deficiency, Iiowovit
slight, will ]>Tuduce ill -registered sheets, and create
an enormous degree of vexation to the printer. With
these explanatory remarks, we pass on to a notice of
four different machinos, calculated to produce register

«. A
niaehin
the 1

Imys

XV\m-J mVT )T( TBIHTINO. "'iVIf H^MmitKin

Mil ii«n>N((iit«r i<Mtt, uiiilor TArioui modiAoAliont

MhI miMaf HMKxi!' •

1. A niarhino with on* oylii«d<-r. Mil«l » liiiKl*
tnaehliM, |[|«ti«T*llr ut«
qtiiring two boyt— oiM) lo Iwy on th* pAfMr, Mid KUfrtimr
to feMlvu It wh«n printMl.

v. A niMhliie witli two eylimlvr*, cnllcd n doubl*
niMhin*, but only pi-iutiii^ froui »na t'urin of tvpai, ■
th« r»t« of from lOtN) to '2'JOU mi Imur, rcqiiirUiK tvo
httyt to Uy on the iheutii, and two to tuku tkoiii ut)',
axcluiirvi^ ii««d for iiewq>n|)crii. It raniitti of t<vo
•niiill oytiiidoni, about t«ii iiichm in diuntutar, pland
about ttv* invhui amtrt, and iuii|ioiid«il from a b*M.i
at each und, A caiiib, or eoi-entriu, onuiea tlie boajut tb
vibrat*. Mid with them the cylinden to riac and (all
about onu-half of mi inch. Th* cylinden turn in a|ipo-
iit« diroctioiit, and a* th* luachino only printii one form
at a time, that cylinder only which in turninj( in tli4
•mil* diraotion as the typeii ii perinittod lu reit upon
the form, and take the iiiiprewion, lu that a ihtet it
printed by each cylinder altcinately every time th*
type-earrlai;* goci buukwarda or furniirdi. Two boy*
teutl th* paper into the machine, at two drum* placed
about threo feet abore the carriage, and the ibaet ia
led down to th* cylinder* by tnpoi, which alto oenvey
it, after beiiiH printed, to thtt end of the ninchine, where
two boys reoeire the ihaets, and lay thorn iitruiKht in a
heap, roiuly to be again put through the niachiuo when
the aecond form ii placad on the type-carriage to ]irint
th« other Hide. There i« a diatinct and complete ap-
paratua for inking th* type* at each end, ainiiliir in
principle to thiit whioh is luentiuned iu the account of
tho book niaohiiie. Miiny of tho largett-sixed and b«afe
new*p»per* are printed by machines of this construc-
tion. They are generally moved .by manual labour,
two men turning a winch, which operate* upon the
lueohanism and fly-wheel.

S. A machine siinilar to that used by the ' Timoe,'
with four printing (lyliuders, ra()uiriiig the atteiidmice
of eight boya, Mid throwing off ubuut HHW iiupretsiona
an hour. To attempt to describe this machine without
diagram* ia difficult, but a general idea may be con-
rey*d of it* principle, by it* being considcrvd as two
double machines placed in ooutact. There ar* four
printing cylinders, about nine iuohes in diameter euuh,
placed close togethur in pairs, but with a spnoe of about
HCTon inches between tiie centre one*, in which space
there are two inking-roUer*. Each pair of cylinders
is (ecured to the ends of two strong beams by means
of adjustable connecting rods; to these beams a slight
vibrating motion i* given by means of oanibs, so as tu
cause the altonmte cylinder* to rise and fall about oue>
fourth of an inch. Tho type-oarriago and inkiug-tables
have a reciprocating motion, and the movements are
so adjusted, that those two alternate cylinders shall be
depressed, and proas upon tho types, whose motion coin-
cide* with the carriage, and of course the other two
alternate cylinders ore by tlte aam« uiuaus raised sufii-
oiently to permit the types to pan* free under thorn,
till the carriage chuiges the direction of its motion,
when the ]iositiou of the cylinders is reversed, and the
pair which formerly took the impression from tho types
are in their turn raised. Thus every time the form of
type* moves backwards or forwards, two sheets of paper
are printed. The paper is fed into the machine over
four drums, place<l in pairs over each other, at a con-
siderable height above the machine, by four boys. The
iheets are led down from the drums to their respective
cylinder* by means of broad tapes, and by other tapes
they are conducted out to the ends of tlie machine,
where they are reoeiveil by four other boys, when
printed, ready to be again passed through the maehine
to receive the impression on the second side.

This ingenious machine has only two inking appara-
tuses, one situated ut each end. There are three pairs
of inking-roUers, one pair at each end, close to the two
outer cylinders, the remaining pair being placed b«twe«n
the two centre cylinden. T^e inkiug-tablea are about

tkrt* f<*t wU«, and tk* motion of tli« aartin«« i* su|l<
cioutly lung to bring each table not «iily umlar iw
r(iS|M«tive pair of inkitig-roU<tra,biit also to cnabl* ou'h
tab!* alternately to Ink the com re pair. Thus lk« furiii
ia Hrat inkixl by on* of tke outai pair* ui° rollers; tkw
tlrnt eyliudoi m raised;. in paMing under the iiK'ntMl,
an inipreision i* giv«n, Mid of cuiirtu Ihu Ink 1* tukun
from th* form, but it iuiniodinti'iy litcomcs ilikud anew
by the rontre pair. of roller*; the third cylinder is
nai*ad; the form pa**e* tu tho fourth cylinder, wk*ru
ai>otli*r iuiprtiwioii i« taken; and the inutiun of the
form being '-ontiuuad a littlo fartiier, it got* ogaiu
inkad from tho outvr |Miir of rvUera at tke opiMwitu
end of the machine from wImi, '• It started. In iU
return, the two cyiindet* which had just tftkuu tho
impression ar* raised ; tko other two now |iriiit in
thair turn, the inking process going on as before ; and
two alieet* are again thrown oil'. Machiues <if thU
coni|ilox description are only used whore oxtraurdi-
uarv deapatuh, lu the production of a large uunibcr of
copies, ia reouiniil. Few, IwHidea those vmployed by
th* London daily paper*, are in use. The only one ia
Scotland, ita far a* w* know, i* that u>ud fo. printing
th* ' North Uritish A<l*erti*er,' and which was mode by
Morton and Hon, maci lo-niukers, Luilh Wall- .

4, Tho fourth kinu of machine i* called a book or
perfecting maobiiie, priiitiog both side* xif the ahtvt in
register before it luavus tiie machine. Tho machine
from which tho atinuxcd engraving is cak«u is one of
this deaoriptioD, and b r* a roMi '<laiice to that of
Applegath and Cowper, it ia about •lUeen feet 1 ^ „ by

five broad, and coniiitts of a very strong cnit-iron froiuc-
work, secured together by two ends luid several croM
bars. To this frame all part* of the machine are fixed.
In external figure, ati seen in the cut, it is a largo
uppiiratua, of imposing appearance. On approaching
it when at work, we percotve two cylinders, as largo us
hogsheads, revolving on upright supports; two smaller
cylinders or dr vh revolving above them; and beneath,
within the frnn.' .,.'.!., a table on wliidi lie the types
at both ends, ^ : .onstantly bnckwaid and fomurd,
A belt ftoiii a steam-engine, acting upon a shaft in (he
frame, gives motion to the whole apjiaratus. It will
further be ob:^erved that a boy, marked a in tho cut, ia
standing '< the top of some step* feeding in sheets of
paper, e'vtli of whiuti, on being delivered, is swept round
the < rsl cylinder It (being held on by tapes), gels its
impression below from the types, is carried over and
betwixt the drums above, and then brought round on
the second cylinder o; now it gets its second aide
printed, and issuing into the spoco between the cylin-
ders, is soiEed by the boy d, who lays it on a table
completely printed. The whole operation is accoui-
paiiied with a loud noise, from the revolving of the
cylinders, the working of the notched whecla, and tho
driving of the table to and fro by a rack beneath, but
without any strain on the mechanism, or risk of injury
to the atte^idants, (.>n minutely examining the parts,
we observe that at each end there is an apparatus of
nillera taking ink from a ductor or reservoir of that
material, and placing it upon a portion of the moving
table beneath ; here other rollers distribute it, while
others tako it off and roll it upw the pages of typen,
ready for each impression. ,1 ;.'.!., i.jij

OHAMBEBS'S VSnfOmUmO'S FOB THE PEOPLE.

The tvo printing eylbiden m« nearly nine feet in
circumferenbe eadi, »nd are plaoed about two feet
Apart. Thejr are accurately turned, lo that the eur-
ftcei of the type-carriagee and the cylinders may be
perfectly parallel. The axii of each cylinder works
in brais bearingi in the upright framework, where, by
mean* of screws, the degree of pressure with which the
cylinders are allowed to rest upon the types may be
regulated to any degree of nioetr. Over about two feet
of the circumference of each cvlinder which forms the
privfV.g surface, two fold* of cloth, called blankets, are
stretched by means of rollers placed inside the cylinder.
The lower blanket is seldom changed, but the upper
one, on the second cylinder (which stands in the stead
of what are called slip-sheets in hand-press printing),
must be shifted as soon as the ink which it has absorbed
ttom the printing on the first side of the sheet begins
to set off, or soil the paper when receiving the second
impression. This shifting is speedily effected, by un-
rolling a sufficient quantity of the cloth off one roller,
and winding it up on the other, to present a clean por-
tion to the pi'inting surface.

The cylinders have a continuous rotatory motion
towards each other, given by two large toothed wheels,
whilst the type -carriages move backwards and for-
wards under tnem. The movements are so contrived
that the type-carriages shall have gone and returned
to the same point during the period that the cylinders
have made one entire revolution; consequently, each
successive impression is taken from the types by the
same part of each cvlinder; and thus, in order to
bring the impression level, the same facility for patch-
ing or overlaying is afforded as at the hand -press.
The two drum.1 placed between the cylinders are for
the purpose of causing the sheet of paper to paea
smoothly and accurately fh)m one printing cylinder
to the other.

To preserve the sheet in its proper place on the
cylinders, and cany it forward through the different
parts of its journey from the hand of the one boy to
that of the other, there is an extensive apparatus of
tapes, some of which are observable in the cut. These
tapes are half an inch brood, and are formed into series
of endless bands, arranged at certain distances apart,
so as to fall into the interstices and margins of the
forms, and therefore escape being crushed between the
types and cylinders. The machine may be stopped at
any instant by turning the handle of a lever, which
shiftj the belt from the fast to a loose pulley, without
stopping the engine.

To produce an impressicn with a flat surface from a
large form, requires a force of about from forty to fifty
tons; and even with a cylinder, where a line only is
impressed at a time, the pressure is little short of a ton.
But, in the machine, to prevent any undue pressure of
the cylinders upon the forms, there are wooden bearers,
of the same height as the types, screwed upon the sides
of the carriages under the ends of the cylinders; thus
effectually shielding the types from the enormous and
injurious pressure which a cylinder might, through
accident or otherwise, be caused to exert.

Seven machines such as has been described are con-
stantly employed printing the -rks of Messrs Cham-
bers ai Edmburgh, the wTjole, toj/ether with three flat-
pressure machines, and two self-inkers, being moved
Dy a steam-engine of twelve-horse power. At the large
printing establishment of Messrs Clowes and Son in
London, we believe at least tT>'enty machines of this
kind are to be seen doily at vork.

Besides those various descriptions of machines above
alluded to as being principallv in use, there are others
calculated to execute work of*^ a ifiore peculiar nature.
Perhaps the most wonderful of those in^nious pieces
of mechanism is a machine which has been ma!de to
print two colours by only one impression — a lower form
chargc'l with one colour being caused to rise through
and cuiiie upon a level with another form, so that both
may be printed ut once. Hitherto the work which has
been executed by this machine has consisted chiefly of
71ff

the itamp-dotT marks for the Excise, and for bank-
no«es, fancy labels for druggists, and other similar jobs.
A maohine for printing newnpapera (on one side at a
time) hae also come into use, constructed by Carr and
Smith of Belper, on the plan of an advanoing and re<
tiring cylinder, while the table for the types is station-
ary. It is more easily turned than the other kinds of
newspaper machines, and is said to be ezoeedingly suit-
able for printing newspapers of a limited number of
impressions, such as are issued in many country towns.
Another cylinder machine which we may here notice
is one invented by Mr Cowper, intended to print from
conver stereotype plates. The plates, insteail of being
fixed flat upon blocks, as will shortly be described,
are fastened upon the cylinders, so as to give them a
bent form, and the printing is effected with the face of
the plate or type -surface dowi ards ; wherefore the
paper is placed undermost .■nstead of uppermost, as in
all other printing. We have never heard what are the
peculiar advantages of this fanciful contrivance.

Among recent inventions of this kind may also be
noticed Hill's patent printing-press, by which it is said
from 1200 to 1500 impressions per hourcan be worked off
with less labour and exertion than are required by the
common hand-press to work off 300 impressions. This
machine is on the cylinder principle; the supply and dis-
tribution of ink are effected by the table and types run-
ning under the rollers in the ordinary manner, and the
chief novelties in construction consist— /7-s(, in Uie ar-
rangement for moving the type table; and second, in the
apparatus for taking off the sheets when printed. When
the machine is small, motion is given by means of a
treadle, which the pressman works with his foot, whilst
his hands are employed in laying on the sheetir; in
presses of larger dimensions hand-wheels may be used;
and in establishments where steam-power is employed,
any number of those presses may be driven by an over-
head shaft. The manner in which impressions are
taken is as follows: — * The form of types being fixed
and made ready for printing, and motion being given
to the wheel, the pressman connects the motion of the
wheel to the axis of the printing cylinder by a sliding
clutch; he then lays a sheet on the register-plate, with
its front edge and one of its ends in contact with a
guide, and on the printing cylinder arriving at a cer-
tain position of its revolution, the front edge of the
sheet is secured to the cylinder tj claws, which carry
it round to meet the typi.'B and receive the impression.
By the time the imprassion is completed, the cylinder
has brought the front edge of the sheet within the
claws of the removing-ann, which claws then close and
secure the sheet; and simu)taneously beneath, the
cylinder claws open, and allow the sheet to pass from
the cylinder by the removing claws, and to be depo-
sited on a shelf ready for being removed by hand.
On the end of the cylinder spindle outside the frame
there is a crank-iron, which pushes back the type-table
after an impression has been taken ; and on its arriving
at its most backward position, the crank-arm quits its
connection with the table, and a connection takes
place between the end of the printing cylinder and the
edge of the type-table, by which means a firm contact
takes place between the two surfaces, which produces
the forward motion of the tables and types to produce
the impression.' In both of these respects the sim-
plicity of construction and working efflciency of the
machine are such as apparently to leave nothing more
in the shape of improvement to be desired.

RAtra-foet Msohinea.
Astonishing as the powers of any of the above ma-
chines may appear, tney are infantile in comparison
with what has been exhibited by more recent inven-
tions. Among these inventions — successful and par-
tially successful — we may point to those of Messrs Little
and Applegath: — To explain the advantages of Mr
Little's Double-Action Machine, it must be remembered
that by the ' Fast Machine,' such as is used for print-
ing the daily newspapers, the impression is obtained by

r^l'tof^'f mii- fli. PBIKnNO<<t^t e'sajj^fij/^jo

four o^linden, two of nrhich reTolve conitantly in one
direction, and (he remaining two constantly in an
opposite direction t thus only two sheets of paper can
receive an impression from the "form" of type with
each passage of the table — the cylinders) when giving
the impression, necessarily travelling in the same
direction as the table; hence although the form passes
under the four cylinders, two of these are alternately
idle, and the machine consequently produces only two
printed sheets with every backward and forward mo-
tion of the type.

'The Double- Action Machine' — we abridge from
the Mechanics' Magazine — ' works with eight cylltukra,
six of which have a reversing motion, and it produces
Hwn printed sheets with every transverse motion of
the type. Thus in the " Fast Machine," only half the
cylinders actually print alternately, whilst in the latter,
seven out of eight of the cylinders are constantly at
work; so that, supposing both machines to have the
same number of cylinders, the Double-Action Machine
would, from this circumstance alone, produce nearly
twice the quantity of printed sheets; but on compari-
son it will DO seen that oonsiderr >ly more than twice
the number can be produced.

The surface of the type, it is known, rests on a
horizontal table, which is moved backward and forward
by u. pinion working in a rack beneath the table. This
rack, terminating at each end in a semicircle of a cer-
tain diameter, has consequently, besides its traversing
motion, a lateral motion, at the time of which the pro-
gress of the table may be considered aa neutral, or, in
other words, the operation of printing is at a " stand-
still" until the pinion has passed uuud the end of the
rack, causing a considerable loss of time during several
thousand revolutions. Thus to ^rint twenty thousand
sheets by the present Fast Machme, the pinion muHt
pass five thousand times round each end of the rack,
which, with a rack of six inches diameter, is equal to a
space of 15,000 feet. To print twenty thotisand sheets
by the Double-Action Machine, it is evident that, as
seven sheets are produced from each passage of the
table, the pinion will have to pass round each end of the
rack only/our<een hundred arid twenliz-eight times, equal
to a space of 4284 feet, or 10,716 feet less than in the
Fast Machine. Another source of sain in the Double-
Action Machine arises from the cylinders being dimi-
nished in size, and by working them as closely together
as possible, the present four-cylinder inachiue requiring
a rock of six feet, whilst the Double-Action Machine,
with ^wice the number of cylinders, requires a rack of
only eight feet, which, multiplied into the number of
revolutions required to work twenty thousand copies, is
about equal to 5712 feet.

It has been stated that the Double-Action Machine
has eight cylinders, and that seven printed sheets are
produced from each passage of the types. Of those
eight cylinders, six only have a reversing motion, or re-
volve backward and forward; each of the end cylinders
lifts and revolves constantly in one direction, like the
cylinders of the present Fast Machine. The reason
why the end cylinders differ from the other six is this :
in consequence of the reversing motion of the six cylin-
ders, it is necessary that a certain interval of time
should elapse to allow the sheet in work to get clear
off before the next sheet can be allowed to enter. To
efiect this, the table must traverse a certain distance
beyond the extreme vibrating cylinder; and advantage
is taken of this space to place a lifting cylinder, which
does not require the type to pass beyond its centre —
thus giving one sheet more from each end of the ma-
chine, amounting to 2856 during the working of 20,000
sheets. This will explain how seven sheets only are
produced from eight cylinders, each of the end cylinders
producing only one sheet, whilst the remaining six pro-
duce two each, from one revolution of the rack or table.'

The advantages of Mr Little's machine are said to be
— 1. Rapidityof action, being capable of yielding 15,000
impressions an hour, with eight cylinders; 2. An im-
piovemeut in the quality of printing, lii'ce the rate of

going may be diminished, and yet the nnmben thrown
off exceed those by the common Fast Machines; 3.
More perfect register, since six out of eight cylinders
are not disturbed by lifting; 4. Better inking, aa the
rollers, from the increased length of table, have nore
time for distribution ; and, 5. More certain feeding
of the sheets, since at each drum arrangements are
made for double laying-on.

With regard to Mr Augustus A^plegath's new ma-
chine which has been constructed for the * Times,' we
abridge the following notice from that paper, 29th De-
cember 1848 : — * The great improvement which has
now been effected by Mr Applegath, is the substitution
of a uniform rotatory motion for the horizontal reci-
procating motion of the old machines. It is the change
from a plane to a circular " table." Instead of being
laid on a table traversing a railroad, the types are now
built up, as it were, on the face of a cyhnder revolv-
ing on a per.iendicular axis. This cylinder is a drum
of cast-iro'i, about 5 feet 6 inches in diameter. The
" form*/'- or pages of type, are made segments of its
Bun':;oe, just as a tower of brick might bvi faced with
stone. Eight printing cylinders, forty inches in cir-
cumference, are arranged round the drum. Instead of
the four impressions taken by the old machine in its
double journey, eight sheets are now printed in every
revolution. Any one who knows the immense weight
of metal type, and the impossibility of giving it any
hold upon the " form " besides weight and pressure,
will at once perceive the extent of the obstacle over-
come by giving the central drum a vertical position.
In the vertical disposition there is the same centrifugal
impulse as in the horizontal, but it does not operate in
the direction of gravity, and therefore is more easily
neutralised. This is done chiefly by means of the
" column rules," which make the upright lines dividing
the columns of the page. These " column rules " are
usually long strips of brass, and in this instance they
are so screwed to the sides of the iron frame, or
" chase," as to become powerful tension ties; and being
made with a wedge-like section — that is, thioke' to-
wards the outer surface of tho type — they keep it in its
place, like the keystone of an arch, or the stone ribs
of a rubble vault.

Without the aid of drawings it is difficult to convey
an idea of a machine so different from those on the
horizontal principle. On entering a large room, the
first thing that strikes the eye is a circular gallery
about 25 feet in diameter, and 6 feet from the ground,
surmuunttng eight large and complicated fabrics radi-
ating from a central tower or drum. Each of these
fabrics is the feeding apparatus attached to one of the
eight printing cylinders. On the gallery are seen eight
men at so many " laying-on-tables," feeding the ma-
chine, by carefully pushing successive sheets into its
eight mouths, each man at about the rate of one sheet
in four seconds. Directly under those men are eight
others on the ground, employed in taking-off and piling
the printed sheets thrown out by the machine. The
eye soon detects the four forms or chases of type fixed
on the face of the drum, and accommodated to its
shape, and vainly attempts to follow numerous sheets
of paper in rapid and inexplicable motion. The print-
ing cylinders surrounding the central drum, and, in
occasional contact with it, bear about the same visible
proportion to it as the pillars of the temple of Tivoli
to the circular wall within. The framing which sup-
ports the central drum also carries the bearings of the
eight printing cylinders, which all revolve in perfect
correspondence. The type only covers a small portion
of the circumference of the drum, and in the interval
there is a large inking-table fixed, like the tvpe, on its
circular face. This table communicates the ink to
upright inking -rollers, placed between the several
printing cylinders — the rollers, in their turn, com-
municating the ink to the type. So far the arrangement
is perfectly simple, the machine being in fact composed
of the parts in ordinary use, only made circular, and
placed u a vertical instead of a Jiorizoutal i' ition.

tilt

CHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOB THE PEOFLE.

The great problem for the inventor wm the right
mode of " feeding," or supplying the sheet! of paper
to the printing ojrliiiden in their new position. The
reader will easily understand by spreading out a sheet
("The Times newspaper"), the difficulty of changing
it in less than four seconds from a horizontal to a per-
pendicular position, and back again ; and through still
more changes of direction. No alteration has been
made in the manner of " laying on " the paper, which
is carried from a plane table in the usual way, down-
wards between two sets of endless tapes in rapid motion.
But when the sheet has travelled down to a certain
point, it is suddenly stopped b^' thin pieces of wood
placed edgeways, and brought into contact with the
paper on ^th sides at once; it is at the same moment
released from the tapes, and, being now at rest, is held
in a vertical position between the thin pieces of wood,
or " stoppers;" these stoppers are then withdrawn, and
the sheet hangs for a moment suspended between two
small pulleys called finger ixtllers; a set of vertical
rollers (between the stoppers), revolving rapidly, arc
immediately brought into contact with the sheet, and
impel it horizontiuly between two new sets of endless
tapes, which convey it round the printing cylinders.
It there meets the type, receives the impression, and is
led out under the feeding-gallery into the hands of the
" taker off," who draws it down and lays it on a table
before hiiu.

It now only remains to explain how an even and
clear impression is obtained from a se^uental surface
of type. The printing or impression cylinders are 40
inches in circumference, and each oyliii<*er always
touches the type at the same corresponding points, the
surfaces moving with equal velocity. The blanket or
cloth round the printing cylinders is underlaid or
]iacked out with slips of paper; and by this simple
means, and the use of a typo cylinder of large diameter,
an impression is obtained, to use the words of the
patent, " not discernible from that given by a Hat fonn
of ty]ie." The rate at which this machine has hitherto
been worked is about 1000 revolutions per hour, or
800U impressions. This rate will be gradually increased
until it is ascertained how far it may be ursied without
injury to the in'prcssions, and danger to the delicate
and complicated fabric. The horizontal machines, with
four cylinders, have been driven up to GOOO; and it is
probable that this machine with eight cylinders will be
ultimately worked to 12,000 copies an hour.'

Flat-Prra«nro Msrhincfi.
We have now described the advantages of cylinder
printing, and it is but proper that we should mention
certain drawbacks to its universal use. The pressure
by a round or cylindriutl surface is less perfect than
that given by an even surfiice. The cylinder has the
effect of pressing ]>artly on the edge of the type, both
in coming up to the impression and in leaving it; there-
fore the impression, in technical language, is not clean;
it has a slight blurring, or wants that degree of sharp-
ness and hiiniess that is required in fine 1 kwork.
Cylinder printing, from the same cause, weuis down
types much more quickly than flat presses. A fully
more important defect is the time required to prepare
a sheet of types, or forms, for the machine. A sheet,
such as the present, seldom requires less than four
hours to make ready, and a sheet of stereotype plates
two hours longer. The pressure of the cylinders is so
searching, that the smallest defect in the levelnesa of
the forms or of the blanket and printing surface is
observable, aiid must be remedied by putting patches
beneath the outer blanket. Su much time is thus con-
sumed in preparing a sheet for the cylinder machine,
that it would be a positive loss to print anything at
it, unless a very considerable number of copies were
wanted. In other words, cylinder machines are only
suitable for long impressions, and where a moderate
fineness of work is sufficient.

These deficiencies of the cylinder machine have led
to numwoui and expensive attempts to apply steam-
720

power to machines with flat printing surfaces. The
most succesuful of these attempts has been one by an
American, and another by a gentleman in London,
whose machines have been working for some years in
Mr Si>ottiswoode's printing-office. The latter is by
far the best, and is ..ow coming into general use. It
consists of an upright frame and printing platten, re-
sembling the common hand-press, with a type-carriage
at each side. The type-carriages go below the platten
alternately; so that, in point of fact, the apparatus is
two presses with one printing- surface to. serve both.
The movements to and fro of the type-cfirriages, and
the pull downwards of the platten, are effected by
machinery beneath. The forms are also inked by an
apparatus for the purpose. This machine requires a
layer-on and taker-ofi' of sheets at each end, besides a
superintendent, and works about 700 sides pr<- hour, or
350 complete sheets. Since the expiry of . '^e patent.

machines of this kind have been made by J. Drown
and Co., engineers, Kirkcaldy. The mechanism is very
beautiful and effective, answering every purpose of
bookwork in ordinary demand. Three machines of the
Messrs Brown's construction- are employed in the
establishment from wboiico this eheet proceeds : the
preceding illustration represents the latest and most
approved form of arrangement — the type-tables travcl-
liiig horizontally, as in the cylinder machines, and the
platten rising and falling with undeviating accuracy at
the return of each table.

By the introduction of the steam - presses which wc
have now described, the profession of the printer has
within these few years undergone a most extraordi-
nary revolution; and although perhaps fewer hand-
pressmen are now employed than formerly, the increase
of employment to compositors, engineers, bookbinders,
booksellers, &c. nmst bo very great. The principal
advance in the profession has been since the year l)t32,
when the printing of cheap literary sheets rose into im-
portance; and, by a fortunate coincidence, the patents
of various nmchines having about the same time ex-
pired, a new impulse was given to the trade. Hardly a
newspaper is now anywhere printed with a hand-press,
and few or no periodical publications. The m.-iking of
printing-machines has in itself become ^ great business.
(3ne maker in London sonie time ago mentioned to us
that he produced a machine regularly every three
weeks upon an average all the year round, each at a
price of about J:4U0. Utber manufacturers in London,
and also now in ^'otland, are similarly engaged; the
machines being sent not only to all pai is of Europe,
but to America, Australia, and India, in a few years
there will not be a civilised country of any consequence
on the globe which does not possess these powerful
distributers of human knowledge.

It will readily be supposed that the introduction of
a steam-press such as we have described has caused ».
very extensive alteration both in the dimensions of
many printing-offices and in their organisation. Print-
ing is now a manufacture. The printing-office is a
factory; and the interior of one of these concerns usu-
ally pnjsents a remarkable spectacle of industry, ani-
mate and inanimate, which to a stranger leaves a
lasting improBsiou on the memory.

ENGRAVING-LITHOGRAPHY-^plHOTciiiRAra

In the preceding sheet w<- indeaToured to describe the
process of producing impressions from movable types,
generally known as letlerpresn . ffinting : in the pre-
sent, we direct attention to the allied, but more diffl-
cult and delicate arts of producing impressions from
engravings on wood, copper, steel, and other metals,
from drawings on stone, and by the action of the sun's
rays on chemically -prepared substances.

WOOD-ENGRAVING.

The method of taking impressions, or printing from
woodcuts, being precisely the same as that followed In
ordinary letterpress, we commence with a brief account
of the art of Wood-Engraving, or, as it is sometimes
more learnedly termed, from Greek and Latin com-
pounds. Xylography and Lignography. In doing so,
our aim will be to aiford such information as iiuiy
serve at once the purposes of the general reader, and
of the individual who may be desirous of acquiring
suirie ikill in the practice of the art.

During the last twenty years, it will have been ob-
served how great has been the increaso of works con-
taining wood-engravings, either for the purpose of illus-
tration or embellishment. The ilhistratioin throughout
the prcKcnt work belong to this species of engraving,
and few ])ublication8 of a cheap class are now issued
without them. Usually less delicate and minute than
engravings on copper or steel, woodcuts possess a pecu-
liar value from the comparative ease with which they
can be printed. While plate embellishments require
to be produced by a proctss so tedious, that a man can
with difficulty execute 2.50 impressions in a day, a
wood-engraving can be printed with great rai)idity by
a machine to the extent of many thousands daily. The
chief valuo of the woodcut, however, consists in its
being adapted for printing along with letterpress. It
is inserted among the types by thu compositor, and
impressions come from it along with the letterpress
which it is intended to illustrate. Hence a woodcut
is to bo described as a /vp« -a thing wliich produces
No. 90.

representations by being stamped on paper, after hav-
ing been inked for the purpose. The reason why wood-
engravings possess these qualities over metal plates is,
because the figures or marks to be shown in print are
l<'ft raised on the wood, the parts not to be printed
being cut away. This is the reverse of the principle of
metal-plate engraving, in which, as will hereafter be
seen, the figures or marks are sunk, and hence the
difficulty of effecting .impressions with any degree of
rapidity. Another peculiar advantage arises from the
fact, that stereotype casts can be obtained from wood-
cuts as readily as from movable types, thus giving the
printer the power to multiply them indefinitely.

The art of carving figures in relief on the face of a
piece of wood, and then stamping the figures, black-
ened with ink, on paper, or some other light fabric, i*
of great antiquity. The Chinese have for ages stamped
or printed books in this rude manner. In Germany,
the first attempts at printing with a press wore effected:
by wooden blocks, which, however, were soon aban-
doned, in consequence of the invention of printing b;
movable types. Previously, the subjects stamped in
Germany were for the greater part of a devotional kind,
such as representations of saints, for distribution by
the clergy as aids in devotion. The eaillest print
from a woodblock of which we have atiy certain date is,
or was lately, in the collection of Earl Spencer : it is
the representation of St Christopher canying the in-
fant Saviour across the sea, bearing the date 1423. It
was discovered in one of the most ancient convents in
Germany — the Chartreuse of Buxheim, near Mem-
mingnon — ^pasted within one of the covers of a Latin
manuscript of the year 1417. It has an inscription at
the bottom, which has been thus translated : —

' In whichever day thou sccst the likeness of St Christopher,
In tliat same day thou wilt, at least, from death no evil blow
incur.— Ui3.'

A reduced fac-simile of this curious engraving fomii
the illustration at the head of the present article. Be-
sides being employed to illustrate devotional subjects,
wood-engraving was used in Germany for marking the
figures on playing-cards; and, what is somewhat re-
markabio, the rude figures of these early times are
represented with little or no improvement of taste ou
the playing-cards of the preciut day.

As stated in the precedaig sheet, immediately be-
fore, and also after the invi'<tiou of printing, the prac-
tice of issuing small books composed entirely of wood-
cuts, representing Scripture subjects, was common in
different continental countries. The people not being
able to read, were in this manner impressed with
glimmering ideas of sacred history. Ilemarkable in-
cidents mentioned in the books of Moses, the Gospels,
and the Apocalypse, were thus made known to the less-
instructed classes, but generally in connection with
legends of the Middle Ages. Some works of this class
were called 'Biblia Pauperum' — (' Poor Men's Books');
and copies of them are now extremely rare. By such
devices was the piety of our unlettered forefathers
excited : the instruction being communicated to the
understanding through the eye, as it is now more
generally conveyed through the ear.

Wood-engraving, for the sake of illustrating printed
copies of the Scriptures, was brought to extraordinary
perfection by Albert Durer at the end of the fifteenth
century. Instead of hard outlines, the figures were
now finely shaded, and an elegant picture produced.
Throughout the sixteenth ceniuiy the art flourished in
HoUr.iiJ; (.iermany, and Italy, and had many eminent
prp'esBora. As printing advanced, it may be said to

721

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

hftTe declined; the eye and the feelings were lesi
appealed to than formerly; the intellect of the people
was opening, though, it may be admitted, their toate
wa« not correipondtngly improTed. Towards the con-
clusion of the seventeenth century, the art of wood-
engraving had fallen into neglect; but in the eighteenth
century it began to revive in France and England, and
aonie good illustrations were produced. It remained!,
however, not in a brilliant condition, till it was taken
up by Thomas Bewick of Newcostle-on-Tyne — an ex-
traordinary self-taught enthusiast in the art. Bewick
began a series of illustrations for a history of quadru-
peds about 1785, and the work, when issued in 1790,
attracted much attention. This work, and others on
natural history, executed by Bewick, were remarkable
for possessing an order of small engravings on woou
called tailpieces, from baing given at the terminations
of chapters. Many of these sketches abounded in d: /
humour, and were highly relished by the iucreesir^
body of general readers. Here, for example, we giv.- «
copy of one of these tailpieces — a poor ewe, in the
starvation of winter, or rather anticipated spring, pick-
ing at an old broom in front of a rumous cot — a scene.

trilling as it seems, which tells u, woful tale of suffer-
ing. Wood-engraving was no^i raised to the rank of a
regular professiiu in England, and was greatly advanced
by Nesbit, liarvey, Branston, and Thomson, both as
respects elegance of design and delicacy of execution.
In France and England its professors have latterly been
numbered by hundreds. -

Practice of Wood-Engravinij.

The Wood, — The piecesi of wood employed in wood-
engraving are usually ter- led blocks. These are inva-
riably of the box-tree — a species of wood exceedingly
fine m the grain. The tree is cut across in slices with
a fine saw, and the slices, after being planed smooth
on the surface, are cut into square blocks of the re-
quired size. The blocks must be exactly one inch in
depth — such being the height of the printing-types in
which they are to stand. When a block of more than
from six to eight inches square is wanted, it is neces-
sary to join (wo or more pieces together, as the box-tree
is too limited in diameter to furnish blocks of a large
size. Blocks ready for use, of any required size, are to
be had from the carpenters who supply printers with
funiiture for their presses, likewi. 3 from turners of fine
wood, and other tradesmen. The price of a block of
medium quality and size may be purchased for ten-
pence or a shilling pe- pound — a pound of wood yield-
ing a printing-block about six inches square.

As in every other article, there arc good and bad
qualities of wood : that which is preferable ought to be
as smooth on the surface as the finest paiier, perfectly
level, perfectly dry, and of a uniform yellow colour,
without knots or flaws. When the tint is a darkish-
red, the wood will most likely prove brittle; and when
very light, it may be spongy, and wil' absorb ink when
the cut comes to be printed. .Some of the light-tinted
wood has the appearance of satin-wood. Upon this no
attempt should be made to engrave, it being utterly
useless. Wowl of various colours — as, for instance,
that which is dark in the middle of the disk, and gra-
dually getting light towards the edges — if not woll-
dried or seasoned, is also not good; when of thii kind,
7-2

the cuts will warp, and be useless to the printer. After
being used, the printer, for his own sake, should care-
fully wash and dry the blocks, and lay them safely
aside for another occasion.

Tooh, — The following are the articles required by
the engraver on wood ; —

1. A round flattish pad, made of leather, and filled
with sand, on which to rest the block while engraving
it. '2. Gravers. — A graver is a tool about four inches
long, made of steel, with a small head or handle of
wood. One side of the handle is flat, to allow the
tool to rest steadily when set down. The blade, or
steel part of the tool, is various in shape; some blades
are thin, others are thicker. As it is the point of
the blade which cuts, the sharper the blade is, so

may the edge be ground fine in proportion. Six or
eight degrees of fineness are usually employed ; the
finest being for the more delicate lines and markings,
and the broader-pointed for cutting broad and bold
lines. One or more of the gravers require to be slightly
bent in the blades, as shown above, to permit excavat-
ing hollowed parts. The shape of the point of this tool,
as seen on its upper side, is here re-
presented (a). 3. Tint-tools. — These
are tools of various degrees of fineness,
suitable to the fineness or coarseness
of the tint required to be cut. M'hile
it is the object of gravers to cut lines in various direc-
tions, and of various lengths, also markings of a mis-
cellaneous kind, tint-tools are chiefly employed to cut
parallel lines close together, representing the tints of
the sky. The tint-tool has a thinner blade than the
graver, and, as is shown in the annexed cut (i), is

much more tapering and sharp at the

point. 4. A flat or gouge -tool, for '~~~~ ~

cutting away blank spaces at the (,

edges, and trimming the cut. 5. A
hone or Turkey stone, on which to sharpen the various
tools, and bring their edge to any required degree of
slope. 6. A steel bumiuier. 7. An inking slab, a
dubber, and a small quantity of fine printing ink, as
afterwards specified. 8. India paper, on which to
take proofs. And lastly, two or three fine and hard
black-lead pencils.

A sufficient stock of the above-mencioned apparatus,
of fair quality, for an amateur learner, need not cost
above twenty or thirty shillings.

Drawing the Subject. — Eciuipped with the proper tools
and a few small blocks, the learner is ready to begin
his operations. There is, however, something to be
done preliminary to engraving : this is the drawing of
the figures to be engraved on the wood. The ability
to draw with neatness and preci. 'on, also a knowledge
of effeit in light and shade, are indispensable in tlic
amateur wood-cutter, or any one wLo desires to rise in
the profession. There are mdeed wood-engravers who
do not ordinarily draw, the designs being put on the
blocks by artists of celebrity, but to this class we do
not address Ourselves. We are solicitous that no one
who wishes to instruct himself in wood -engraving
should think of making the attempt till he can draw
on the wood the subjects which he intends to execute.
This degree of skill is not alone necessary for the pur-
pose i)f rendering wood-engravers independent of artists;
it is also requisite to enable them to give efi«ct to the
designs which artists put on the ^ond. Sometimes the
designs are not mode by black-iead pencils, but by
various shades of India ink, laid on with camel-haii'
pencils; and the effect cf these various shadings re-
quires to be brought out by lines and marks of ditferent
kinds — all the invention of the engraver.

Besides mere drawing, modern improvements have
added another branch to this department of the art,
which is called * lowering.' The surface of the block
being perfectly level, it is obvious that, while being

pressi
receiv
and b
shouh
and
the (

Eatchi
e pri
patch]
work,
press,
surfac
— Ske
away
for ex

ENGRAVINO.

printed at a pren equally true and eTen, every line
left standing oo the cut recoivet an equal degree of
preisure. The finest linei forming a iky, for instance,
receive an equal weight and imptCBi with the deepest
and broadest shadow. Now this is manifestly not aa it
should be; for fine lilies ought to be printed lightly,
and dark ones heavily. To obviato this, in printing
the commoner class of cuts, the pressman lays small
patches of paper below his sheet, opposite the spots to
be printed more darkly than others; but this mode of
patching fails tc a considerable degree in making fine
work, and a surer plan for bringing vp the effect at
press, consists in slightly lowering certain parts of the
surface of the block. This may be effected as follows :
— Sketch the design on the block, and then scrape
away with the scooper those parts to be printed lightly;
for example, the sky, and the edges of trees, the whole
ill various degrees, according to the degree ',i required
lightness. We desire to add, that be^ianers should
not trouble themselves with this process, as it applies
only to an advanced class of exercises. If lowered, the
designs will require to be re-sketched on thew> d; but
whether lowered or not, the surface of the bl , must
K prepared in the manner now to be describee. : —

The surface of the block being too smooth to receive
the markings of a pencil, it is roughened, and at the
game time delicately whitened all over with moistened
powder of Bath brick and flake white, and the palm of
the hand is afterwards passed over the block, to remove
from it any gritty particles. When dry, it is ready for
the drawing, which is now put upon it, care being
taken that nothing is marked which is not to stand iu
relief. On being finished, the drawing appears to be
a minute and perfect sketch on a white ground.

Besides being able to draw, the learner should be
acquainted with the practice of copying and reducing
from prints. For example, a wood-engraving 3 inches
long by 2 inches broad is reijuired to be made from a
print 12 inches long and 8 inches broad. In this, as
in all other cases, it is necessary to copy everything in
exact proportion, A square frame, on which threads
are stretched lengthwise and crosswise, leaving square
openings, is laid on the print. Small squares to the
same number are now lightly traced on the wood, and
whatever par*.8 lie within any opening iu the frame are
copied within the corresponHing opening on the wood :
thus a copy in exi^ct i<roportio.i is obtained.

As pencil-drawing is very ap'i to be blurred or partly
effaced by touching with the hssd, it is necessary to
cover the block, while working upon it, with a piece of
paper. A slip of smooth, hard writing-paper is the best
for this purpore : it should be neatly folded over the
edges, and tied firmly round with a thread. On begin-
ning to cut, tear off a piece of the paper from the part
to which the tool is to be applied ; and so remove the
paper as the work proceeds.

Engraving. — Persons with weak sight use a strong
magnifying-glaas wii<in engraving, or when closely ex-
amining the appearance of their work. We would
recommend beginners to avoid using a glass, if possible,
for it injures the sight with the naked eye. Persons
with ordinary eyesight require no glass in wood-cut-
ting. The work mav be best executed with a strong
steady northern light. In cutting by lamplight, a
shade should be employed to throw the light down;
and the light may be concentrated by being made to
shine through a globe of water, the rays coming to a
focus on the block.

The engraving is done at a table or bench of con-
venient height, placed below or near the light just
mentioned. The engraver, seated on a chair, holds and
moves about the block on the pad with the left hand,
while he operates with the tool in the right, as is repre-
sented in tho following cut. Great steadiness of hand
is of the utmost importance, for the least cut in a
wrong direction may mar, if not ruin, the effect to be
produced. tJntil the learner becomes familiar with his
tools, he should proceed gently and patiently, pushing

the ^aver caatiouslv forward at a uniform depth, and
clearing; out small chips or threadlike parin^^s.

In picture-painting, innumerable tones, tints, lights,
shades, nearness, and distance, are produced by apply-

ing a variety of colours, and any error can be rectified
by a new touch of the brush. In wood-engraving,
every kind of effect must be produced by a mere varia-
tion in the marking, first with the pencil, and after-
wards with the graver; the result in printing being a
variety of dark marks and lines on a white ground.
The skill of the wood-engraver is therefore tested to no
mean degree. On the careful and judicious disposition
of his lines, and the lightness and strehgth of his
masses of darkened parts, depend the entire effect of
his labours. In executing s. woodcut, the parts drawn
upon remain, and the blink spaces which the pencil
has not touched are cleared away.

The first lessons of a learner should consisv in
engraving straight parallel lines with a tinting-tool,
as are here exemplified. The degree of darkcc-ss is

regulated by the thickness of the iines, and the spaces
cut out between them. Take care ♦hat the lines are
cut smooth and clean, free of ruggedness or breaks.

Not till pretty well grounded in the art of cutting
straight parallel lines, should the learner proceed to
the next steps in advance, which will consist in cutting
bent and waving linos. The following cuts exhibit
tbe nature of this progression. Having cut one or more

of these early exercises, the parts of the block not to be
printed must be lowered with a flat or gouging-tool,
so as to leave no parts so high as the lines. The depth
to which the blank-spaces or ' whites' must be cut is
regulated chiefly by their extent— the larger the space,
the deeper the gouging.

Perfected in the art of cutting lines straight, bent,
and waved,the learner may proceed to cross-hatching,
which consists in cutting lines at different angles,
and of different lengths, across other lines, with the
view of expressing graduated
depths of shade. The varie-
ties of hatching are endless,
from light tones up to the
darkest shadows. The an-
nexed figure of a hand repre-
sents a familiar variety of cross-
hatching.

These specimens are given more for the purpose of
showing what cross-hatching is, than of inducing learn-
ers to prosecute this kind of engraving. Cross-hatching
should always be sparingly employed, and in no case
when an effect can be attained by simple lines; for it
introduces complexity, and often too much luinuteneta

723

CHAMBl >i;S INFOBfllATIOir FOR THE PEOPLE.

of detail. ' iV good ensraving,' aa Jackson obierTU,
'viewed at a work of an, is not gool in {'roportion, na
inanr of it* part* hvie the appeanotce uf iina lai^'.'
Whn thia caution, it should b« mentioned that if cross*
hatching is foubdindiipflnsable, the l«amer will require
to exeonte it with particular care; for (here is a dilfi-
cultjr in oulting oiU the whites, so a» to leave con-
tinuous lineh sw«i»piiiu acrosa, as in the above figure.
If poetible, rest the tOM on the whites afterwards to be
cut away; and when nothing remains as a fulomra, a
small piece of card may be laid on the block .is a protec-
tive. Take care, also, not to underiuine any ii,lready cut
lines; for if undercut, they may break on in printing;
and what is equally objectionable, will not admit of
■oond stereotype caJsts.

Apparent faults in wood-engravings can with ^reat
difficulty be remedied; and it is better for them to
remain, or to execute another engraving, than to at-
tempt iinproisinent. Experienced engravers are some-
times ab'.e to Correct errors in tiieir cuts by what is
teohi.:::<tIlT called ' plugging.' A small piece of wood is
destorously drUled out of the block, and a new piece
is inserted in its s'i'Nd, imd glued, to prevent shifting.
On this new piece iiiv •'■orreciiou is executed.

Taking Pttcfa.- When an engraving is Anished, the
workman wilt be g.-tiHfiect by seeing bow it liioks cii
paper; and thb (^!.W:;.i;ion he can afibrd hiirifietf
without the aiu of M>v ]<h<:ti:i{r presl*. 'She maferit;!')
necessary for thiii op<:ration Ar«i, as ^)r«'iu)y stated, a
small quantity of tiie finest priutin: 'it)''; a finootb
stone or slab to distribute it on (the i. ■.')-. oi ■\ lftr.>:e
strong earthenware saucer will, however, tinf>t\-\ the
purpose); a <tabber, coii;'i(Otsed of wool, ti|,^h -y '1*1 ii;;
in white leather or fine silk; 8om« In<l\a <^>.' /'nvese
paper; a buruifiher; and a pieco of «;?»!, 'iaving
smeared a small quantity oi ink nn the dibber, boat
it for some time on ;}\e stone, thrvt it m&y Ifft^iictributed
equally over the suriace. Holding- the tut stM^ilv on
the sand-bag, strike it gently with the dab!<or, taking
caii not to use any pressure whatever; tha ink will
thtt>! lie impartod evenly upor> the twfaee of the lines
withou' deecen'iing to their Biiitd, Having cut a pi<?ce
of IndiA n>iper to the required si/'!, breathe 'upon its
smooihekL . t <e, lay it on the blotk, place the card on
the back of cJt'> paper, and commence rubbing the back
of the card \:\'.h, the burnisher. A very steady band
is requisite to tic tliis eifcctually ; for if the India paper
be allowed to mcvc. the lines will be blurred or doubled.
When every part ol 'tie object on the block has been
sufficiently rubbed, iho operation is finished, and the
proof may be removed.

A precaution mav be neoessary in taking proofs by
the above plan — which is, to leave a border of the whites
stand'.iit rooi;<1 the edge of the block, as something for
the hand and ^^e burnisher to bear upon. To prevent
the black mass (which will of course be inked with the
rest) from appearing on the finished proof, a rough one
must be taken first, and the subject of the engraving
cut out of it with ar-i:>8ors. After inking the block for
(he clean proof, the black lorder must be covered with
what is left of the first ihip.-ession, which protects the
former from the ink during the buniishing process. Of
course the border on the block must be cut away in
finishing the woodcut for press.

After using, the slab should be cleaned with lye of
potashes, or turpentine, and the dabber must be kept
clean and soft. If these precautions are not attended
to, the proofs will soon become coarse in appearance,
and the cuts will be clogged. The most perfect dabber
is the ball of the hand ; but few will choose to soil
their hands with printers' ink. Cuts are cleaned most
effectually with turpentine, and they should be care-
fully dried before being put aside.

Oudine Pigurtt. — In commencing to cut figures and
scenes, it is advisable to co])y from wood-engravings of
a simple and expressive kind. Almost all beginners
commit a serious mistake in attempting to imitate the
finer class of wood-etigravings, which abound in iniiiutu
marking. They should V im to bring out au cttect iu
72*

V;»ht and shade loith a* few lint» and hatchings as po»-
.■lil-, never makinc two or more small marks where one
o: w bolder stretch would answer. The earliest exer-
ci'iHM attempted should only be in outline, as is ex-
emplified in the annexed engraving of the. leaves of a
{)lant. In this instance it will be observed what efi'ect

ia produK"! by a few il'rj and thick lines, with a very
slight; d<^r«e of shading.

Outline figU(«s, or sonb as htw^i lunt ''. few touches
of 'shadiugi kk in the anuuned, uiay lUno at tiiia stage

of advancement be engraved. In this exuniple the
lines are few, firm, and distinct, and the efifect vastly
superior to what could be produced by elaborate, but
indifiiirently-exccuted shading. In proceeding to exe-
cute figures with shading, it is advisable to begin with
those possessing few details, and as little complicated
in subject as possible. Perhaps something like the fol-
lowing might bf copied with advantage : —

Another class of exercises consists in cutting sketches
of round and oval objects, in which there are strong

and sudden depths of shadow and strong and sudden
lights, as iu the preueduig figure of the acoru.

ENGRAVING.

i'iiriuAl''>

It will be oburred in these ezamplea, m well as in
other out* of a limple clau, that three gradations of
shade require to be studied. After the pure white
comes the lightest shading, consisting of only a few
scratches ; next we have the gray or middle tone :
lastly, we have this mid tone shading down to the
pure black. Pure blacks are portions of wood scarcely,
if at all, touched by the graver.

About this stage of advancement the learner may
exercise himself in drawing and cutting foliage of dif-
ferent kinds. As is well known to the draughtsman,
foliage is represented diti'arently, according to the na-
ture of the tree. In the aouompanying sketch, the

willow is represented by perpendicular markings, ter-
minating in a point, to give the idea of its pendent
foliage. A broad mass of light is usually preserved,
and an increase of markings is given to one side of
each subdivision of foliage, with considerable power of
characteristic markings on the shade-side of the tree,
besides an occasional repetition of touch for effect.

Advanced Exereiiet. — After outlined and shaded
figures, the learner may proceed to figures with shadings
and backgrounds, requiring a variety of light and dark
lines. In beginning figures or objects with backgrounds,
it is necessary to cut an outline round it, as a boun-
dary to other lines coming against it; but this outline
should not be seen in the impression of the engraving.
This outlining prevents the figure from appearing to
adhere to the background, and is indispensable.

In this department of study the learner may engrave
human figures, animals of different kinds, and rural
and street scenes with skies ; beginning, for example,
with such as have few objects, and little complexity
of light and shade, as in the following sketch: —

Afler some practice with sketches of this nature, he
may proceed to others of a more complicated kind, and
in which the contrasts of light and shade are bolder,
and require more delicate handling. In this, how-
ever, as iu many other things, mucli must be left to
the taile, the patience, and the skill of the engraver.
Beyond this it is unnecessary to offer any hints in this
brief and rudimentary description. Those who wish
to pursue the profession of wood-engraving, will find
it advantageous to consult the elegant and elaborate
treatise of Mr Jackson. (C. Knight, London, 1839.)

Wood-Engrovbig as a Profcaslon,

\/ood-engraving is carried on as a profession chiefly
in London, where there are some extensive establish-
ments devoted to this line of business. In these, as iu
all other large concerns, it is not unusual to have a
division of labour: a cut being made to go through
several bands, from the drawing to the finishing. By
such weans cuts can be produced with surprising rapi-
dity; but it may be doubted if this wholesale system
of production is advantageous to ait. The too-common
failing of woodcuts is their want of character and
truth. They may be neat, elegant, and highly-finished,
but not striking for their fidelity, and too ambitiously
imitative of steel or copper-plate engraving;. Wood-
cuts should possess a character of their own, which
cannot be mistaken ; and to attain th>^ character for
his productions ought to be the aim of every artist.

Another, and perhaps more serious fault of many
woodcuts, is their not being adapted to the kind of
printing for which they are intended. There are now
two kinds of letterpress printing, very different from
each other — printing by flat pressure with the hand-
press, and printing with cylinder machines, moved by
steam power. At the hand-press, cuts can be worked
off with the greatest possible deliberation and care;
and if inked by means of soft balls, any degree of
colour can be imparted to them. At the pnnting-
machiue, no such pains can be taken : a common or
easily-working ink must be employed; the rollers run
over the forms with uncompromismg speed ; and the
cylinders, turning out ten or twelve sheets per minute,
give a depth of impression which is fatal to delicacy of
lines. Now the misfortune is, that wood-engravers do
not sufficiently study these distinctions. In sending
home their cuts to their employers, they give along
with them proofs on India paper, which look exceed-
ingly beautiful; and if the cuts were to be printed on
India paper with fiAO ink, the work would be quite
answerable. Such, however, is not tne case. Perhaps
as many as nine-tenths of all the cuts executed are lor
machine-printing, with which it is impossible to do
them on all occasions justice. Hence the many blurred
and ineffective cuts which are seen in books, all the
tones being confounded, and often only a gray haze
pervading the work. Not that these cuts ore badly
executed, but that they are suited to an entirely dif-
ferent process of working.

\Ve mention these circumstances with the view of
doing all in our power to inspire amateur learners
with a correct idea of the deficiencies as well as the
excellencies of wood-engraving in its present state of
advancement. We wish to show them not only what
they should attain, but what they ought in prudence
to avoid. Already it has been stated that, without a
knowledge of drawing, all attempts to prosecute wood-
engraving successfully must prove fruitless. Let us
repeat and impress this fact on the mind of every one
who thinks of taking a graver in hand. Let all who
are deficient in this qualification procure instruction ;
and we know of no better seminaries than the Schools
of Design now generally established throughout the
country. Learn, we say, to sketch with fidelity from
nature, to copy from prints and paintings, to acquire
taste in grouping, and disposition of light and shade,
and to design subjects in illustration of passages in
stories, &c. Having acquired a certain proficiency in
these departments, which involve much miscellaneous
knowledge, the amateur may proceed to wood-cutting,
but not till then.

The surmounting of so many preliminary impedi-
ments will no doubt require time and trouble; but no
attainment of any value can be acquired without in-
dustry and patience. The attainment in the present
instance is worthy of more than the usual degree of
labour. It is the acquiring of an art which may be
turned to most important uses. To those in easy cir-
cumstances, it may be a delightful and elegant exer-
cise. To others less fortunate in worldly condition, it

725

OHAMBEBS'S INFOBUATIOK FOR THE PEOPLI!.

may become a ready meani of lubtiitence. There are
few thingi on which human labour raiaei the value ao
highly at wood-engraringi. A nnall piece of wood,
worth no more than two or three ihillingg, may, by a
few dayi of ikilfUl industry, become worth as many
pounds. Surely, to *)e able to impart this high Talue
to an object next to worthleii in its raw state, must be
deemed no mei^n talent.

The ease with which wood-engraving can be exe-
cuted within the cJomestio circle, peculiarly adapts it
as an occupation for iadiei. On this point we cannot
do better than offer the following passages from an
article on wood-engraving in the 'London and West-
minster Review' for 183rt: — 'To that large portion of
educated gentlewomen of the middle-classes who now
earn a subsiatence chiefly as govemesses, we wish to
point out this art as an honourable, elegant, and lucra-
tive employment, easily acquired, and everywhere be-
coming their sex and habits. We have already done
honour to the exquisite delicacy and elegance of the
engravings of Manr Ann Williams; we venture to say
that few women of taste, whatever their rank in life,
can look on " Le Jardin du Paria au lever de I'Aurore "
without envying the artist her newer of producing a
scene so beautiful, and of excitmg in thousands the
pleasing emotions inseparable from it. Apart from all
pecuniary considerations, to be able to do it is an ele-
gant accomplishment; and the study of the principles
and details of taste which it implies, is a cultivating
and refining process to every mind. All that can be
taught of the art may be learned in a few lessons, and
thus an acquirement made which will aflTord no slight
protection against misfortunes to which, in this com-
mercial country, even the richest are exposed — and a
means of livelihood obtained which, without severing
from home, without breaking up family assemblies, ia
at once more happy, healthy, tasteful, and profitable,
than almost any other of the pursuits at present p-:ac-
tised by women. Che lady we Lave named is not alone
in the practice of this art : we might name also Eliza
Thomson, and Mary and Elizabeth Clint, who have fur-
nished excellent engravings for the " Paule et Virginie;"
and we have heard of several daughters of professional
and mercantile men, not likely to be dependent on
their own exertions for support, who have wisely, by
learning this art, acquired both an ncooraplishment
and a profession. The occupations, we may also add,
are few, indeed, tu which gentlewomen of this class can
more worthily devote themselves, than to an art which
is peculiarly fitted to enhance the enjoyments and re-
finements of the people, by scattering through all the
homes of the land the most beautiful delineatbos of
scenery, of historic incidents, and of distinguiohed per-
sons.*

ENGRAVI.VO ON COPPER AND STEEL.

In the printing of letterpress or woodcuts, as has
been already noticed, the impressions are efl'ected by
the raised faces of the letters, or marks, in the manner
of a stamp. Printing from engraved plates is per-
formed on a principle directly the reverse: in this case
the face of the metal, cleared of the l~,k daubed upon
it, gives no representation — the printing is efiTected
from the sunk lines. While wood-engravings may be
printed along with type-matter, engravings on plates
of metal require to be printed by themselves.

The discovery of the art of engraving on metal, for
the purpose of making impressions on paper, is gene-
rally ascribed to Finiguerra, a goldsmith of Florence.
He excelled in an art then much practised in Florence
called niello. It was the custom with jewellers, in
those times, to engrave the outlines of Scripture sub-
jects upon the vessels which they made for the use of
the church. When this engraving was completed, they
filled the lines with a blocK substance composed of a
mixture of lead and silver, in solution with borax and
sulphur; and impressions were taken from this in clay
or sulphur. The black substance used was called niello,
and Iience the name of the art. The same process was
7'.6

also used when pieces of armour, household plate, and
other articles, were engraved for the purpose of being
inlaid with metals, woid, or ivory.

Uerman w-iters claim the honour of the invention
for a citizen of Antwerp, Martin Hchoengaur, asserting
that he practised the art before Finiguerra. It seems
probable that it appeared nearly simultaneously in both
countries. The earliest distinguished engravers, after
the discovery of the art, however, were Italians.

It does not appear that Finiguerra pursued his in-
vention any further than to take impressions on paper
instead of clay. A contemporary, of the same proi'es-
sion and city, Daccio Baldini, improved upon the in-
vention by engraving on plates for the express purpose
of taking impressions on paper. He was greatly as-
sisted by a distinguished paimer, Antonio PoUajuolo,
who furnished him with designs for his engravings, and
also by another artist, Sandro Botticelli, who made a set
of drawings, from which Baldini engraved plates for
an edition of Dante, published in 148)1, and supposed
to be the first book ever embellished with oopperplato
engravings ; though this notion has been proved false
by a Oerman writer. The works of Baldini attracted
the attention of a Roman engraver, Andrea Mantegna,
ivho had already become distinguished as one of the
most successful of the niellatoii. This artist not only
assisted Baldini with original designs, but ai:;o turned
his own efforts to the promotion of the newly -disco-
vered art, in which he soi-n became a proficient.

In our notice of the early days of the art, we must
not omit mentioning Albert Durer, one of the earliest
Dutch engravers. Some knowledge of the art seems
to have been previously possessed in Holland by Martin
Schoengnur, who is thought by some German writers,
as we have seen, to have invented it, and who was
certainly a contemporary of Finiguerra. The works
of Martin, and his disciple Wolgemuth, inspired the
genius of Albert Durer, wno did much for the improve-
ment of the art, excelling equally on coppur and on
wood. Marc -Antonio Rjilmondi, an Italian artist,
having seen Durer's printiv, improved upon them, and
became at Rome a master in the art. Thus the pru-
fession was spread simultaneously over Holland and
Italy. Although there have been various improve-
ments in the art since this early period of its history,
the mode of etching the plates remains substantially
tlic same. At present there are several kinds of en-
graving practised, each efifected in a different manner,
and of these we shall now ofl'er a short account : —

Line-Engraving , — This is the principal as wpM as th.
most ancient species of engraving. When not r . e ;uted
entirely with the graver and dry point — that is, when
the lines aro not cut mechanically and finished with
the scraper and burnisher — it is commenced by a che-
mical process called etching. The plate is first cleutied
on its polished surface, and heated sufficiently to melt a
compositior of asphaltum and Burgundy pitch, culled
etching-ground, ivhich is rubbed upon it, and rendered
equal nil over, by dabbing with a ball of wool covtrcd
with silk. The plate is then )h Id up for the surface to
receive the smoke of a wax i or, until it is rcndcrfid
block and glossy, into which state it comes on not being
suffered to cool during; the process. These preparations
being eftected, and the i>late becoming cold, the etching-
ground, which is not thicker than a coat of vaniiah, ia
found to be of a hard consistence, and ready to receive
the tracing of the subject intended to be etched. The
previous preparation of the nubject is a very important
step in the process. The subject is drawn upon trans-
parent paper with a I iack-lead pencil, and being laid
with the face downwards on thu etching-ground, the
lines or marks of the drawing are pressed upon it with
such force, that they are left on the ground on removing
the paper. This is called ' transferring;' and of course
the excellence of the representation to be produced
depends on the excellence of the drawing. Engravers,
therefore, in copying paintings, reu'.tire to possess a
degree of skill in the art of deliaeatiou hardly inferior
to that of the original artiit.

ENGRAVING.

T}i« drawing being trnniferred in the manner de-
icribed, the engraver appliei hit tool, or etching needle,
over the linee, carefully removing the g>t)unu, at the
iame time preiiing sufficiently bard to icratuh the sur-
face of the copper. When any error hae been com-
mitted, the objectionable lines may be stopped out by
working a little of the ground over thorn with a hair-
pencil dipped in turpentine. When set, the parts to
treated resist the aquafortis. A wall of wax is now
placed round the margin of the plate, and "to the
enclosure so formed aquafortis is po<-„u, to the depth
of half an inch. This aquafoiiis decomposes or bites
into the copper where tho etching-ground has been re-
moved. During this proceu, globules of air arise from
the decomposition, and these are carefully removed
with a feather, to allow free scope to the biting liquid.
The lenfih of time employed in biting the plate is
regulated bv the depth required, aUo by the state of
the atmosphere; in ordinary cases, the operation may
be performed in about an hour. When it is ascertained
that the plate is properly acted upon, the aquafortis is
poured off, the wall of wax removed, and the ground
cleared with spirits of turpentine. The plate Is now
said to be etched, and when printed from in this state,
exhibits the appearance of a pen-and-ink sketch. To
this state of etching, but regulated by the nature of
the subject, professional engravers bring the plates to
be finished in the tine manner. Different gradations
of power are given by the aquaforti* and parts are
rebitten to the depth required; after nrhich, the light
parts are put in with a sharp needle. Other parts arn
then cut with gravers of various sizes and forms, suited
to the lines which will best express the respective
objects. The engraver, in thus finishing his work, rests
the plate on a small cushion, so that it may be con-
veniently turned with the left hand, while the incisions
are cut with the graving tool by the right. These lines
are re-entered, crossed in various directions, or cut in
the spaces between the diagonal crossings, until the
desired efiect is produced. Landscapes and architec-
ture are general'.v executed with the needle and aqua-
fortis : portraits and historical subjects are chiefly cut
with the graver or burin, without the use of aquafortis.
Where a series of parallel lines are wanted, as in back-
grounds, &c. an ingenious machine, called a ruler, is
employed, the accuracy of whose operation is exceed-
ingly perfect. This is made to act on etching-ground
bv a point or knife connected with the appatatus, and
bit in with aquafortis in the ordinary way.

As etching has become somewhat fashionable, and is
now pretty ireely cultivated by amateurs, either as an
amusement, or with a view to illustrate discoveries in
natural science, it may be well to mention that the art
can be learned in a few lessons. Those who reside in
large towns, will most readily acquire it under the
direction of some copperplate-engraver; those who have
no such opportunity, way teach theiuselres by attend-
ing to the directions given in Mr Aiken's * Art and
Practice of Etching,' published by the Messrs Fuller,
Rathbone Place, Loudon, who also supply the entire
naratus. The apparatus is by no means costly, and
I' lisists of a few copper- plates, etching-needles, a hand-
rest, a ball of etching-ground, a dabber, oil-rubber, a
little rottenstone, a smoking-taper, bordering-wbx, some
varnish for stopping out false lines, tracing-paper, and
a phial of aquafortis. The great advantage of^ etching
to the amateur consists in the opportunity it aft'ords
him of multiplying impressions of his work. A sketch
in oil or in water-colours remains single, and a copy
can only be obtained by repeating the process; whereas
a pketch once etched can yield hundreds of impres-
sions, all precisely the saire in every line and feature.
Those who can draw in reverse proceed at once to de-
lineate on the etching-ground; but in general it is
safer to draw on paper, and transfer. Etching with a
dry point, as it is called, is performed entirely with the
point without any ground, the burr raised by the
graver being taken off by the scraper — a steel instru-
ment with thiee sharp edgei. Engraving or etching in

Mfl ground ii used to imitate chalk or pencil-drawings.
For this purpose the around is mixed with a portion of
tallow or lard, according to the temperature of the air.
A piece of tissue-paper being attached to the plate at
the four corners by some turners' pitch, and lyin^ over
the ground, the drawing is aiade on the paper, ant
shadowed with the blacklead pencil. The action of
the pencil thus detaches the ground which adheres to
the paper, according to the degree to which the finish-
ing IS carried; the paper being then removed, the work
is bit, as in etching with the hard gtound.

Stippling is a style of engraving in which dots of
various si/es and depths in the copper, instead of lines,
expres>< e forms and shades of the subject. The/ are
first II .lie in the etching-ground with the need.e, or
with a toothed-wheel culled a roulette, then bitten, ''id
some parts stopped out, to prevent the further iiction
of the aauaf"rtis on them; while other parts receive
additional biiiiigs, till the subject has the power re-
quired. After this the plate is cleaned, dotted up with
the needle, stippled with the graver, or rebitten, until
all the gradations of force are communicated.

Meztotinto is in a great measure a reversal of those
styles already described, being the reducing of adarkened
surface of copper to one that is light. The operation is

the
on

generally commenced bv (rounding or puncturinc
plate with a circular-iuced tool, called a cradle,
the edge of which are a number of points; this instru-
ment, by being rocked regularly over the surface of the
copper in every direction, covers it so completely with
marks, that, if it were printed from, the impression
would be perfectly black. On this dark ground the
subject is traced, directing where the various grada-
tions of light and half-tint are to be scraped and bur-
nished out, until the proper effect is produced. This
style of engraving is used chiefly for portraits and his-
torical subjects. It has a pleasing soft appearance, but
it is understood that the copper soon fails in producing
strong impressions, an- 1 it is therefore not well adapted
for subjects of which great numbers are required.

Aquatinto engraving k an exceedingly complicated
style of producing pictorial effect; but being executed
at a lower price than that of the kinds previously
mentioned, it is commonly resorted to for eiubellishing
books of travels, or other works requiring illustrations
of a simple nature. In appearance it resembles tint-
ing with Indian ink, and the prints are susceptible of
being finished with water-colours. In commencing the
process of aquatinto engraving, the plate must be cleaned
with an oil-rubber, which Is a strip of woollen cloth
rolled up hard, to about two inches in diameter; this,
with a little impalpable crocus and sweut-oll, will give
to the copperplate, when perfectly cleaned from the
oil, a proper surface to receive the ground, which is
made with pulverised sifted rosin and spirits of wine,
incorporated by gentle heat, till It appears like a var-
nish. This composition is poured over the plate while
placed in a slanting position, so an to permit the super-
fluous liquid to run off. The operation must be so
managed as to preserve an equal surface. As soon, as
the granulation, or drying of the grain, appears, the
plate must be placed horizontally, when the spirit will
evaporate, and the particles of rosin will adhere to
the copper. When dry, the surface appears evenly
covered, as with a diminutive honeycomb, and per-
fectly smooth. On this the subject is traced, and the
highest lights painted out with a sable pencil in a mix-
ture of turpentine-vaniish and lampblack, so as to
prevent the aquafortis acting on those parts. The
margin Is also covered, and on it a wall of wax Is fixed,
with a spout at one comer. The aquafortis is regu-
lated in its strength b v the temperature of the weather
and the hardness of the copper. Being poured on the
plate, it remains until the first gradation of tint is
bitten — the aquafortis having acted on the copper
between the particles of rosin which adhered to the
plate. The aquafortis is then taken off, the plate dried,
and this first degree of tint stopped out or covered over
with the blackened varnish. When hard, the aqua-

727

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATIOH FOR THE PBOPLK.

fortii if again poured nn, to bit* the Moond ilexreo of
tint; and to on until all the tinte hare in luooiiiion
been bitten in. The ooppar niuat thon be cleaned, and
a pruoi' taken and compared with the ori^^inui. A Kinii-
lar or rehiting grain nuiit then be luid nn th« plate m
taMTore; when cold, a cifnipiieitiun of tieaclo and lamp-
black, well mixed, muit be uited to paint the projvutiuui
of foliage on li^hti, ur othor touche* wl .h the maaaeii
of tint ma/ requiro. When Uivie are dry, the whole
nf tho plate niuit be waihed over with a thin coiit of
vaniiih reduced with turpentine, which will ndheto to
the untouched jiarta uf the work. Tho wall of wax
inuit thon be replaced, and clean water poured i^n;
in a ihort time the water will mix with the treacle
touchei, and loniun them. When all appear to bo re-
rao'ed, the water it taken oil', and a(^uafurti* puureii
on, acd allowed to remain until a kutfioient degree of
power ii given to the touchee, and the iuhjevt com-
pleted. Tbii mode of engravin|{ waa invented by n
rrenchman of the name of St Non, about tho /<;nr
16b'2. He communicated the proceaa to Jean Oaptiste
le Prince, who died in 1701, from whom it wu» ac-
quired by Paul Sandby, who intioduced it, throujjU the
medium of Mr Juhei, into thii country. It haa bven
practiacd in England with much frrvuter aucceat than
anywhere elao, but latterly has been lupeneded in
many inatancci by lithography.

Plate-Printing. — Copperjtiates, en^aved in any of
the above itylea, are ready for preaa aa soon as they
are finished by the engraver. The methcJ of printing
from them is very simple. Their engraved surface in
daubed over with a thick oleaginous ink^ so that the
lines are effectually filled. As this dirties the whole
face of the plate, it is necessary to clean it, which is
done by the workman wiping it tirat with a pii 'c of
canvas, and then with the palms of his hands, n. ^ibcd
on fine whiting. It may be calculated that a hundred
times more ink is thus removed than actually remains
in the indentations ; however, such is necessary, 'i'he
plate being thoroughly clcuned, i\ is laid on a preM
(see fig.), with a piece of damped ptvper over it, and

being wound beneath a roller covered with blanket
stuflf, it is forced to yield au intpreasiou on the paper.
The plate requires to be kept at ii moderate warnitb
during the operation. The frequent rubbing of the plate
with the hand to clean it, as may bo supposed, tends
,(^'atly to weur it down ; and such is the wear chiefly
from this cause, that few uoppeqilate] will yield more
than a few thousands of iiiipresaious in good onler.
Tho earliest, called proo/t, are always tho best, and
most highly prized.

In couiiequenco of this defect in copper, thp pra<iioe
of engraving sled plate.^, for all subjects requiring long
numbers, lias now become very common. This process
was introduced by the late Mr Perkins of London, who
originally eufleued the plates, engraved them, and then
rehardrncd them — a practice now abandoned, as ordi-
nary steel plates can be worked upon by the burin,
dry-point, scraper, and Ituniiahcr with perfect facility,
Ltching on steel plates is executed much in the same
way as in the process on copper. The plate is bedded
on conimgn glaziers' putty, and a ground of Brunswick
728

black la laid on in the uaujil way, through whK:h the
needle acratchea. The biting iiionatruum ia the-i pourwd
on, and managed in the manner already dutniiud. An
engraving un a ateel plate may be traiii>fi<rrcd in rcli(:f
to u softened steel cylinder by preasure ; and thin
i-ylimler, after ix iig hurdoned, may again tranal'er tho
(Ifaign by lolliiif; it u,>on a froHh xteel (liate', and iliiil
the design may be multipKed ut pluii«ure.

HK.VI. A.NM (iK.U KNUBAVINO,

This in II branch of tho piofeation altogether distinct
from that of enj^raving on nietHllic platoa. While tho
hardeat metals ars jUJ(.'n^)tiblo of being cut l>y a tool
wielded by the hand of Iht; artiat, the diiroient kinds of
atone reti'jired tube operated upon by the avat-viignvver
are so extr«mely ha.d, that ii i-iu'ch more powerful
inntrument than tho hand has to be reaortod to, Tho
cutting-toof ia fixed into a turiiing-machino or lathe,
and ia made to oncrate whilo In a rapid rotatory mo-
tioi>, The latho m of a light and miniature contitnie-
tiou, ereoteil on an elevated bench or tablo in front of
the artist, and ia mo^ed by a fooi.board beneath. The
ongravur of nietal-pl.itoiii aits while at his work, but
the seai-engr<vver in genera! stands, in order to have
greater oumniaiid ever his operations. He lik'jwise
requires to be exceedingly nteady in the hand, for the
slightest error would pethaps fie iiTCuiediftble; there-
fore, with both his elbows rs-iting on cushiona on the
bcijch, and the palm of his left band leaning on the
top cii' an urect roundish - tliaped bolt or pillur, hii*
fingers of both hbnds are busy in prcmniiig the a(o:io to
the edge of the whirling-tool, or guiding it eo thiit it
may receive the appropriate indentations. One tool,
however, cannot execute all jiarta of tho device. The
cutter potsi.'Dses from one to two hundred tools, usiiallv
of soft iron or copper, varyiiij,' from a large to a small
size. It is also necessary to explain that tho cutting
part of each tool is shaped au as tu present to the stono
a sharp thin cilgo like tho rim of a u-heel. (Ily ntiek-
ing a small wafer on the point of a pin, and cuiiceiving
the edge of tho wafer, when turnii.'g round, to bo the
cutting part, a good idea may be obtained of thii< curi,'iur
instrument.) As the tool projects I'ori/.oiitHlly, ilio
artist, by holding the stone beneath it, with itti surfiioe
to be cut uppcrtuust, is thus enabled to watch the pro-
grcBS of hilt operation from beginning to end.

Sharp as the cutting tools of tho seal-engrarer are,
they would entirely fail in ]i(.'rforating the guni^ to
which they are applied by the lathe, unless they wero
given an additional sharpntiis by moaiib of a iureign
material occasionally applied to them while in rapid
motion. This material is usually diamond dust, or
the powder of the ruby and other hard stones. The
diamond ia so i xpcnaive an article, that the particles
used by the seal-engraver are thoke which have been
rejected as waste by the lapidary. These being placed
in a hollow steel tube, having a tight-fitting riimmer of
the same material, a few amurt blows on the upper
extremity of the rammer reduce the particles to powder.
A small portion of this dubt is then mixed with a little
olive oil, and being held to the tool in a state of motion,
it is attached to or forced into the metal. If a powerful
magnifying-glaas v.'ere taken to exaniine the tool after
its ahsK '-ption of the diamoii I dust, its edge would be
observed t > resemble a rasp or saw, the particles being
partly imbed' !>;•' and fixed in the steel; hence, properly
speaking, it '^ not the tool, but the diamond dust upon
it, which cuts the surface of the stone.

To cut an elaborate device, such as a bust or a coat
of arms, upon the surface of a cornelian or other geni,
a vast deal of caro is necessary on the part of the
artist. The precise depth of every turn and indenta-
tion is matter of serious study, and a momentary heed-
lesiiicss might have the effeit of ruining the work of
several days. The operator, however, exercises caution
in his iiigeiilGiis labour. The stone boing diniined bv
friction, is drawn upon with a braiis point, to show tli<^
subject, which is of course reversed : the artist firxt
traces the uutliucs of his figures, nc.it opens them with

ENOBAVINO.

coat
r gem,
of the
(lentii-
heed-
ork of
:autiou
leJ by

OW tilt)

gt firiit
a with

t!ie >>.>lj«r tooli, aii'l xriulunlly procotJ* to the detftiln
with lliiwr Mid UM-.t iiiatruiiieiit*, frequently Rtoppiii^'
to tuko iiiipru^sioiii on wax, to leu the 'jtfect which h >
heoii produced, Imfore he «ivet the fliiiihiu^' itioke
h'.ii woikiniviiahip; liutly, the aurfaue ti repoliahed, unci
tht3 Deal coiiipl»tv'l.

It will thu» bo BiH'ii that KO"i-oii(!iaviiij( requiiifii m.t
iiiilv great ability and ikill, but a doKren of natieuuo
null porscvflrance beyond what li rvqulrod m inoiit
iichui' profewionu, 'lo cut a nietallic lenl ur die ia com-
paratively an eiiay task — the inxtrumenta iia well ui
material being thoroughly under tho control of the
nrtiat ; but to engrave on the hardest (tenia, whoac
nature cannot bo altered, and which, if deatmyed, can-
not bo replaced-- to carve the moat minute and delii'ate
fiKiiroa, and I o produce them in such a manner as to
yield a diatinct and amonth impreaainu- ia altogether
an ait of tho hi^heit order.

ENUItAVINd AND GTCIMMi ON ULAHl*.

The name of cii( glum ia given in commerce to glaii
which ia ground and poliahed in ^„'urea with aiuooth
aurfacea, appearing as if cut by ii'.iNions of a aharp in-
Htrumont. Thia operation is chiefly confined to tlint-
gla»l (aeo No. '21), ivhicb, bein;; m«ro tough, aoft, and
brilliant than (he other kind^, ia umru oaaily worked,
and produces apcciineiiii of greater luatre. An tstub-
liahment fur cutting glass contains a great number of
wheels or diaka, aeidom exceeding a foot in diainoter,
which nro made to revolve with great rapidity by ateiiiu
or other moving power. Against the circumferences or
edges of these revolving wheels the glass to be ground
or figured is hohl by tho hand of the workman. ' The
thickness of tho cutting disks, and the forma of their
edge, are varied coiusiderubly ; some being broad, others
narrow; some convex, others concave; some flat-edged,
others wedge-shaped; and so on, according to the shapo
of tho vessel and tho figures to be produced. Even
forty or fifty disks with difiiarent-shai^d edges may be
found in the same workshop. Materials of very diffe-
rent degrees of hardness, from cork to wrought -iron,
aru employed in tho formation of these disks. Those
made of wroiight-iron, which are verv thin, are used to
cut grooves in gloss, by the aid of sand and water,
which are caused to drop on the circumfcrenoe of the
disk from hoppers placed above. Cast-iron disks are
also sometimes used in the roughest part of the opera-
tion; but the coarse work is usually done by a disk of
fiiie sandstone wetted with water. When ground down
tn tliu proper shape, the glass is poliahed by exposure
to softer dinks, the action of which is generally assisted
by various powders applied in a moist state to the cir-
cumference. Thus a coppt:' disk is used with emery
and oil; a disk of block-tin with peroxide of tin or
tiitty ; a disk of willow-wood with fine puniicestonc,
colcothar, or putty; and a cork disk having an edge of
hat - felt with putty or colcothar." By such simple
iiistrunienta ia all that variety of design — flower, fruit,
foliage, ar.'vbesque tracery, initials, armorial bearings,
&c. — produced which now adorns so abundantly the
most familiar articles of domestic utility.

The art of etching on glass is altogether different,
being akin to etching on plates of copper and steel.

• The art,' says I'arnell in his ' Applied Chemistry,'

* may be practised on all kinds of glass; but the most
proper description is good crown-glass. The facts on
which this art is founded are, that the vapour of hydro-
fluoric acid (see No. 19) acts energetically on glass,
corroding it as aquafortis does a sheet of copper, and
that certain parts of the glass may be easily protected
by a resial varnish, on which the acid exerts no action
except at a high temperature. The varnish usually
employed by artists for this purpose is either common
turpentine varuish mixed with a little white-lead, or
a strong aqueous solution of isinglas. In performing
the process on a small scale, purified bces'-wax will bo
found to form a convenient varnish.

The piece of glass to be etched if first of all warmed
in a convenient manner, and cue of its surfaces is then

rubbed over with wax, tlio temperature of the gliii^^
being high enough to eaune the wax to melt, and be
liatribnted uniformly over tbe entire surface. Tho
!aas ia then aet asidn to coiil; and when the luix has
become quite ai>llil, the design may be traced with a
puinted, but not very fliiP inatrutnent, auch aa a bodUhl.
A carpenter's bradawl ta a convenient tool fur this
oi/eratioii, since, from being flattened at tho end in one
dir^eti'ii, it may be made to trace lines of difi'erent
degrees of finent'ss, according to the i)<>aition in which
it ia held. Care must be taken to cut through the
entire thickness of the wax, so as to lay the glaaa quite
bare through the wbolo length of tho lino.

The next part of the proceas cnnsiata in the appli>
cation of tho hydrofluoric acid. The veaael emploved
for thia purpose is a ahallow basin, either of lead or
of \V'edgwood's ware (no glazed vessel ahould be em-
ployed), large enough to inolude within its area every
part of the dunign, when tho prepared glass is placed
upon its edge. The materials iiir generating nydro-
tluoriu acid— consisting of one part of powdered iiuor
apar, and about two parts of highly concentrated oil of
vitriol — arc introduced into the baain, and well mixed;
the glaaa plate is then laid oii tho edge of the basin,
with the waxed side undermost, and a moderate heat
ia ap|i iud, to disengage the vapour of hydrofluoric acid.
A spirit-lamp will be found a convenient source of
heat, from the facility it afionls of increasing or de-
creasing the tein|ieratiire at pleuaure. Care must bo
taken to prevent the heat becoming ao powerful as to
melt the wax-ground.

After being oxpoaed to t),e acid fuinea for a few nii-
tiute3, the glass plate nif.y bo removed and cleaned.
The lines wliere the y.:.A had been removed are found
to be covered with a white powder, which consists of
silico-fluoridea of the motallic baacs of the glass. The
greater part of the wax may be reiuoved by scraping
with a common table-knifo, and the remainder bv
warming the glass before the fire, and wiping it with
tow and a little oil of turpentine. Tho design will
then bo found to be perfectly etched upon the sur-
ftvce of the glass, the depth of the lines being propor-
tional to the time the glass was exposed to the acid
vapour. In conducting the operation, care should be
taken not to allow the hands to become exposed to the
acid fumes, as tho vitality of the parts would be in-
stantly destroyed by the action of the acid.' Accord-
ing to the authority now quoted, a dilute aqueous solu-
tion of hydrofluoric acid may be substituted for the
vapour in the above process with a similar result.

(Jlass plates engraved upon in this manner are not
adapted for printing, or yielding impressions upon paper,
on account of their brittleness ; but even this has been
partially obviated by a German invention, wherein the
glass, of considerable thickness, ir, cemented to blockj
of wood — the plates 30 moi><<ted enduring sufficient
pressure to produce a fair in.jrt'j-'iun without iracturo.

glvpiio'>ba;ii».
An important addition n 'ir iweans of producing
pictures or impressions c u.kp in the glypnographic
process of Mr Palmer. The pcjuliar advantages of this
invention — so named from its combining two distinct
operations of drawing and engraving — are thus detailed
by the patentee : — ' The term glyphography is derived
from two (ireek words (ghjpho, I engrave, and graphein,
to draw), and signifies that art by which an engraving
is produced by the simple mode of drawing ; or, in
other words, drawing and engraving, which have
hitherto been two distinct operations, are here com-
bined in one. Hence its merits, and importance to
every artist, seeing that by its aid he becomes the
engraver of his own work, as much as he would by the
practice of etching; but with this vast difference, that
here hia effect i* aa immedialely conspicuous as though he
leerc using a black-lead pencil on paper ; whilst, on the
contrary, effect is obtained iu etching iu the same
manner as in line-engraving — namely, by depth; and
that depth the etcher produces by the action of acid on

72D

OHAMBBIUCH INVORtf ATIOK fOR TBI PBOPLI!.

llia copper, called hiling; nor h»i he »nv iiionni of ai-
fortaining the real effect thiii prodiioeil hut by takiiiff
ajinwf on paper, and of course he mint rtipent thii m
often M he inakei an/ alteration in hia plate. Another
niaterial advantat^e ivhich glyphof^raphy noaieiiic* over
eMting and wood-onf^raTiiiu \*, that in tlio former the
arttat drawa hia iuhject aa he intcnda It to appear, with-
out rereralng it, aa la renniaite in both the latter, and
which la extremely difficult and perplexiii);, at Icaat to
beginneri. And laat, though by no meana leaat of ita
peculiar nierita, and that which makea it of the hiftheat
importance to every true lorer of the fine arte, la the free-
dom tttloriled to the artist, and conaequent acope for the
oxerciao of hia talent, and multiplication of foc-aimilea of
hia own work. Kvery connolaaeur in tho arta knowa what
aort of compariaon to make between ctchlnga and any
other kind ofprinta, although they may be the produc-
tiona of the aame hand; and why 1 Himply on account
of the atitr formality and atudicd regularity of tho lat-
ter, which, though perhapa pleating to the eye, are by
no mt'ana natural; cnnaequoiitly tho aume facilttica aro
here afforded aa in rtching, without that tediouanoaa na-
aociated therewith, and the other diaadrantagca already
enumerated. So tied and fettered ia tho wood-draughta-
man, that ho ia obliged to Icare the tlnta entirely to
the cngrarcr'a taate and akill, contenting himaelf with
ataining with India ink, kc. that part of tho block to
the doairud colour or tone; nor la hia outlino accurc,
unlcsa in tho hands of a clever cutter, an<l even then
ita freedom and leau'y are aometimea entirely tpoilcd
from a variety of ciiuaea; but in glyphography, on the
contrary, uny lort of work, whether sketchy or finished,
free or fornml, ia introduced with equal ease (according
to the Hkill and experience of the artist); and, more-
over, what may acvm atraiigo to those unacquainted
with the nature of the after-process, the more elaboratu
and complicated the drawing, tho less time and trouble
ia required in its oonveraion into a lurfuce-priuting
block, aa hereafter described.

If anything further neoda observation here, regard-
ing the inanv advantages that this new art possesara,
it is, first, the durability of the l)locks, seeing that,
with care, tho number of*^ proofs taken therefrom may
be multiplied almost ad tnfinilum, upwards of 70,0U0
having been taken from one without altering in the
leaat degree ita sharpness; and next, in a commercial
point of view, is ita extreme cheapness, which of course
ia worthy of conaidcratiou.'

Such are the proffered advantages of the invention;
let us now glance at the process ao far as divulged bv
Mr Piilmer: — 'A piece of ordinary copper-plate, such
as ia used for engraving, ia stained black oti one aide,
over which is spread a very thin layer of a whilt opaque
composition, resembling white wax both in its nature
and appearance : this done, the plate is ready for use.

In order to draw properly on these plates, various
sorts of points are used, which remove, wherever they
are passed, a portion of the white composition, whereby
the blackened surface of thu plate is exposed, forming
a striking contrast with the surrounding white ground,
BO that the artist sees hia effect at once. Tho drawing
being thus completed, is put into the hands of one who
inspects it very carefully and minutely, to see that no
part of the work has been damaged, or filled in with
dirt or du!>t; from thence it passes into a third per-
aon's hands, by whom it is brought in contact with a
substance having a chemical attraction or affinity fur
the remaining portions of the composition thereon,
whereby thev arc heightened ad libitum. Thus by a
careful manipulation the Uyhu of the drawing become
thickened all over the plate equally, and the main
difficulty is at once c'-ic^'ne; a little more, however,
remains to be done. The depth of these non-printing
parts of the block must be in some degree propor-
tionate to their width; consequently the larger breadths
of light require to be thickened on the plate to a much
greater extent, in order to produce this depth. This
part of the process, howerer, is purely luechauical, and
easily accomplished.
780

It is indispensably naceaaary that tho printing ;iar>
facet of a block prepared f<ir the preaa ahoul t pre '"*
in aiich relief from the block itaelf aa ahull prurcnt kht
probability of the liiking-roller touching tho In. .'•^\ ei,
of the same whilst passing over them; this ia i. ' .1
pliahed in wood-engiitvlng by cutting out these iii.«r-
vening parts, which form tho lights of the print, to a
sufficient depth; but in glyphograiihy the depth of
these parta ia formed by thu remaining portiona of tho
white compoaition on the plate, analngoua to thethick-
neaa or height of which inuat be the depth on the
block, aeoing that the latter ia in fact (to aiinplif^ the
matter) a cast or reverae of the former. Hut it this
compoaitiiui wii* apread on the plate aa thickly aa re>
quired fur this purpiMe, it would be impossible for the
artist to put either close, fine, or free work thereon;
consequently tho thinnest poasiblo coating is put on
the plate previously to the drawing beiiii.' made, iind
tho required thickness obtained ultimately asilcncribed.

Thu plate thus prepared is again carotully inspected
through a powerful lens, and closely scrutinised, to see
that it is remily for tho next stage of tho process, which
is, to place it in a tmugh, and submit it to tho action
of a i^alvanic battery, by moans of which copper Is
deposited into the indentations thereof, nitd continuing
to till them up, it gradually spreads itself all over tho
surface of the composition, until a sufliciontly thick
plate of copper is obtained, which, on being sepivratcd,
will be found to bo a perfect cast of the drawing which
formed the clichee.

liivstlv, the metallic plato thus produced is soldered
to another pioce of metal to strengthen it, and then
mounted on a piece of wood, to bring it to the hejght
of the ))rinter's type. This completes the process, I'.nd
the givphographic block is now ready for the press. It
should, however, have been stated nroviously, that If
any parts of tho block reuuire to be lowered, it is done
with the greatest facility in the process of mounting.'

What ]irogress Mr Palmer's process may be making
as a substitute for wood-engraving we havo no means
of knowing. Very delicate and beautiful specimens of
glyphugraphy have appeared in the Art Journals ; but
in volumes which have been illustrated throughout by
tho process, and printed in the usual manner— such as
Dr Lindley'a botanical works — while tho drawings have
undoubtedly considerable breadth and freedom, the
impressions are vastly inferior in delicacy and clear-
iiesa to those from ordinary woodcutf.

LITHuailAPIlY.

Lithography (Or. lithtm, a stone, and graphcin, to
draw) is the art of printing from a peculiar kind of
stone, and generally in a style which resembles the
moro ordinary kinds of engravings. It was invented at
Munich in Bavaria, between the years 1 7i)f> and I TUH,
by Aloys Scunofolder, a person of literary ability, who,
being too pour to pay for the printing of books in the
usual manner, endeavoured to fall on a method of
executing his productions from the surface of various
metals. ' He found' — we quote the ' Kncyclopicdia
Americana' — * in tho course of his experiments that
a composition of soap, wax, and lampblack formed
a good material fur writing on bis plates; that, when
dry, it became firm and solid, and that it resisted
aquafortis. Wanting facility in writing backwards on
the plates, he got some pieces of Kilheim- stone, as
cheap materials on which he could practise after po-
lishing their surfaces. One day, being desired by his
mother to take an account of some linen about to bu
sent to be washed, and having uu paper at hand, he
wrote the account on a polished stone with his compo-
sition ink, intending to copy it at his leisure. \\'hcn
he was afterwards about to efface this writing, it oc-
curred to him that be might obtain impressions from it;
and having eaten away the stone with acid for about
the hundredth part of an inch, he found that he could
charge the Uucs with piiutiiig-iiik, and take Buccessire

MnioaRApnY,

ThU n«w tnoils of prlnt'-ig kpiMareU to
pcrMvcn

tmpNnlnni. intt n«w mmifl or print'-ig
him very linporUnt, and ha pcrMvcrcd thrnugli all
aitflcultlei in »pplyiiiff hli diicoTerv to practical piir-
poMt, and In InnirovlnK It. In tha cnurae of nianj
txp«riin«nti, he round that It waa not ncceuary to
hare the lettert railed above the lurfaoe of tha itoiie,
but that the chemical principlei by which greaia uikI
water arc kept from unitin|{i ware alone •iiiflcienl
for hii purpoM, Thia point obtained, lithoKmiiliy
may be laid to have been fully diicoverod. The tint
atiaya to print for publication were tome piucoi of
inunic, executed in 17l'll: aftarwart'.a ha attempted
liruwinM and writingi. The ditHcuity ha had In writ-
ing bacKwards led him to the proccii of tran^ftr ; and
the UM of dry loap, which wai found to leave perma-
nent tracei, which would give impraiiioni, naturally
led to the mndu of chnlk-druwinga.

Having made conaiderable improvement!, Mr Sen-
nafelder obtained, in ITU!), a patent privilege for Hiv-
Taria, when he made known hii nroceia, and aftorwardi
entered into partnerihip with Mr Andr< of Oti'unbach,
who propoied to eitabliih prcuui, iind tnko out patenti
in London, Farii, and Vienna. i''or thii pur|)oie Sen-
nefeldor went to London with a brother of Andre's;
and the invention having; liuun much apokei^ of, under
the name of polyautonriiiihi/, moit ot the princi,)iil
Engliih artiiti made triali o^ it. I nfortunntcly, how-
ever, the art of printing from the atones was not then
fully understood, and the ditlcrenco between the ma-
terials of (lonnany and those of Knsland, used both for
the purposes of drawing and printing, caused constant
failures; and the artists, in succesHion, abandoned the
practice of it. In August IflOO, Honnefeldor, who had
iei)arttted from Andre, went to Vienna, where, after
much difficulty, a patent was obtained, and extensive
preparations were made for applying his procosfl to
print cottons; but bad management, and some unfor-
tunate circumstances, prevented his success, and he
returned to Munich in ItlUO, leaving the establishment
in other hands. Mr Mitterer, professor of drawing at the
public school of Munich in 1806, practised lithography
to multiply copies for the pupils, and is said to have
invented the chalk composition in its present form, or
at least to have improved it greatly.' b'rom this period
the practice of the art was improved and extended;
from Munich it shortly spread over (lermony ; and from
thence to France and (England.

The atone employed for lithography is a species of
limestone, resembling in appearance a smooth yellow
hone, and is found in quarries in Bavaria ; it is like-
wise found in France and England ; but no stones have
as yet been found to surpass thosu of Solenhofen in l)a-
vario. Any stone which effervesces with an acid, which
imbibes water with facility, ond is easily penetrated
by greasy substances, is fit for lithographic purposes ;
the nature and quality of the work requiring a stone
of corresponding quality and fitness. The best for
general purposes is that which breaks with a conchoidal
fracture; is of a homogeneous texture, and of n uniform
yellowish white; and emits, when breathed upon, an
aluminous or clayey odour. The stone, when prepared,
usually varies in thickness from an inch to four or five
inches ; those which are large requiring the greatest
thickness, in order to endure the severe pressure to
which they are subjected. Of whatever dimensions,
the stones require to be perfectly Hat, and of uniform
polish on the printing surface. For this purpose, they
are sawn into blocks, polishoil with sifted sand and
water, till they acquire the necessary grain or surface,
if for chalk-drawings; and if for ink-drawings, they
must be polished with pumicestone till they are per-
fectly free from f;rain or scratches. Stones which have
been printed from must be polished afresh, to remove
the old drawing; and in addition to the usual rubbing
with sand and pumice, must be washed with a mixture
of aquafortis and water.

The ink to be employed in making the drawings for

the stone varies in composition according to the precise

nature of the work, and whether the drawing is made I impiesgion.

direct on (ha stone, or transfarrad to it Aom *>aper.
One kind, of a, good quality, consists of dried tallow,
snitp, mastic, subcartxinato of potash, Chinese or table.
varnish, and lampblack ; the \arnlah boing the prin-
cipal ingredient. The matoriala are inourporated in »
close vaasal over a Hra, and when prepared, are cAt
Into moulds. Tho subatance taken from tha mouldi
forms a chalk, which may ba pointed like a noncil, or
it may be disaolvud in water to form an Ink. liull-
nmndel recommends an ink compoaad of the following
Ingrudienta: — '2 ounces tallow-candle, 'J ounces virgin-
wax, 'J ouncaa ahell-lau, 'i ounces common loap, and
lampblack enough to bring it to the colour required.
This composition is prepared ami incorporated hi the
preceding. As it is more difficult to work with chalks
than with inks, greater care is required in the prepa-
ration of the former; hence the proportions of the mix-
ture may be varied so i\s to produce a mass sufficiently
firm, without being dry, and also without having a
tendency to clog to tha stone. The ink uaed by the
printer is generally composed of burnt oil or varnish,
and lampblack, with a small proportion of indigo to
bring up tho colour.

The drawings, we have said, are either executed at
once on the stone, or are taken from transfer paper. In
the former case, the drawing is reversed; in the latter, it
is done in the natural ordoi*, and appears reversed when
transferred to the stone. In either cjisn, the drawings aro

made by the pencil of chalk, orbv ink and a lino pen or
camel-hair pencil. * To render tho lithographic process
intolligil)le' - wo i|iinto tha ' Penny Cyclopicdiii ' — ' let
it be supposed that the artist now completes a drawing
with tho chemical chalk iust described, upon a grained-
stone. If, while in this state, a sponge tilled with
water were passed over the face of the stone, tho draw-
ing would wash out, the chalk with which it is made
being, a* we have seen, soluble in water, by reitaon of
thu soap which it contains, Defore, therefore, it is
capable of yieiiling impressions, a weak solution of
nitrous acid is poured over it, which unites with and
neutralises tho alkali or 3oap contained in the chalk,
and renders it insoluble in wator. After this, the usual
course is to float a solution of gum over the whole face
of the stone; and when this is removed, if a sponge and
water be applied to its surface, as before supposed, the
drawing is found to bo no longer removable, because
the chalk with which it is executed is now no longer
soluble in water. In this state the work is ready for
the printer, who obtains impressions by the following
process ; — Having thrown with the ends of his fingers
a few drops of water on the stone, and spread them
with a sponge, so as to wet, or rather damp, the whole
surface equally, the printer finds that the wator has
been imbibed by the stone only on those parts not occu-
pied by the drawing, which, being greasy, repels tho
water, and remains dry. A roller properly covered
with printing-ink is now passed over the whole stone,
which will not even bo soiled where it is wet, from the
antipathy of oil and water. But the parts occupied by
the drawing being, as we have seen, dry and greasy,
have an affinity for the printing-ink, which therefore
passes from the roller, and attaches itself to the draw-
ing. In this state it is said to be charged or rolled in.
Damped paper is then put over it, and the whole being
passed through a press, tho printing-ink is transferred
from the stone to the paper, and this constitutes the
impression. By repeating in this manner the opera-
tions of damping the stone and rolling in the drawing,
an almost unlimited numbei' of impressions may be
obtained. Now, as we have said, the modes of litho-
graphy are various, but the illustration just given will
explain the principle of them all. It consists in the
mutual antipathy of oil and water, and the affinity
which the stone has for both— that is, in its power of
imbibing either with equal avidity.' The art, in which-
ever way pursued, requires great delicacy and dexterity.
In drawing on the stone, the slightest mark of the
hand will fasten on the surfacd, and appear in the
The execution of the iinpressiou in an

731

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THIi! PEOPLE.

equally clear and dark manner is evidently a matter
of difficult accompliihment, there being nothing more
common than to see lithographic impressioni light at
one part and dark at the other. One of the chief dis-
turbing cauiei is variation of temperature; and it is
aterays prudent to make a few tridls before proceeding
to regumr work ; as the stone and ink whi''h worked
well in the morning, may in the afternoon produce
nothing save intolerable blotches.

The process of printing differs from that of letter-
press or copperplates. The stone, properly inked, and
with paper over it, lies in a box on the table of the
press, covered by a piece of leather (<)> and is drawn
beneath a hard edge or scraper («), the mechanism being
assisted by a lever power (0« <m '^ shown in the accom-
panying figure. As in other kinds of printing, it is

rig bic away,
r ell-executed

plates of zinc on which it is executed belne
leaving the design prominent in relief. A weli
zinoograph is little inferior to a lithograph; but though
the process Is simple and the materir.) cheap, there are
certain disadvantages inseparably connected with such
a soft and brittle metal, that are likely ever to prevent
its general adoption.

necossary that the pressure be equally distributed ; and
for that purpose the edge of the scraper requires to be
smooth and true, and the leather of uniform thickness.

Etchings upon stone are executed much in the same
way as etchings upon other material. Tiie stone hav-
ing been previously polished, is washed in a solution of
acid and water, and dried; a very small quantity of
giiin-water and black is laid on the stone with a rag, so
us to form a thin coating. When this is dry, the draw-
ing must be traced with red chalk, or taken in transfer,
as the case may be, and executed with etchiug-needles.
It must be remembered that these lines or scratches,
which of course appear white, will seem much thicker
when filled wita printing-ink; this arises from an opti-
cal deceptioii, proceeding from their change of colour
from whit < to biack. Oreat care must be taken not to
breathe ou the stone, as this would dissolve the coating
of g'lin. When the etching is finished, the entire sur-
face of the stone must be rubbed with a rag and linseed-
oil, and afterwards the whole coating must be washed
off «rith water. These etchings may be printed either
with the roller, or, like cnpper-plates, with rags.

Ai an art, lithography has steadily worked itself into
favour, partly on account of its cheapness and facility
of operation, and partly owing to the numerous modes
in which it maj be applied. It is true that it can never
equal the finer styles of engraving, but for a thousand
ordinary purposes it affords a ready and not inelegant
substitute. All those specimens of penmanship now
so common in cards and circulars, of cheap maps and
plans, of chalk-drawings, &0. are the products of the
lithographic press; and so ulso those fancy placards,
book-covcrs, and the like, which we find in various
coloured inks and in gold and silver bronzes. The
facility with which transfers from drawings, from letter-
press, and from engravings, can be worked at the litho-
graphic press, is another of the peculiar advantages of
the art; thus increasing impressions without limit from
one engraving. In fine, it is not too much to assert
that, but for the invention of Sennefelder, the greater
proportion of the appliances of caligraphy, drawing,
and ornamental embeljishnient now so common, could
never have been called into existence,

ZINCOOIUPIIV.

We may here briefly allude to this art, aa it ii
simiUr in principle to lithobraphy— tlie surface of the
733

PHOTOGRAPHY.

The art of photography, or the method by which pic-
tures or impressions of objectn can be produced by
the action of light,* is comparatively of recent origin,
and consists mainly of two separate and distmct
processes — one of which is of French, and the other
of English invention.

It is scarcely possi^)Ie to decide to which nation the
merit of priority is cue, for both discoveries were made
about the same time ; and the announcement was
almost simultaneous in France and England, that the
beautiful but hitherto fleeting images of the camera-
obscura could be fixed and ret.-uned in all their delicacy
and truth, and had actually been presented as per-
manent pictures.

The French art depends in principle upon a fact
scarcely known until this discovery, tnat the chemical
action of light upon some bodies imparts to them an
increased power of condensing certain vapours on their
surface. Thus if light be allowed to fall upon part
of » polished plate of silver which hfM been exposed
to the fumes of iodine until it has acquired a coating
of that substance, and the plate be then place^l in
the vapour of mercury, the mercurial vapour will be
deposited upon that part of the plate where the light
has fallen, and will cause a dimness or white appear-
ance, forming a strong contrast with the remainder
of the polished surface. If the picture of a camera-
obscura be allowed to ret^t a suflicient time upon such
a plate, it can be made i isible upon it in a similar
manner. The brightest jarts of the picture will be
shown by the greatest whitening effect of the mercury,
as it is condensed most copiously where the action of
the light has been strongest : intermediate tints will
be brought out by degrees of whiteness vary'.» ac-
cording to the amount of light, while deep shadows or
dark objects will be marked by the black or resplendent
surface of the metal which remains untarnished.

The English sister art, though more difficult in prac-
tice, is apparently simpler in theory. It depends upon
the blackening effect of light upon certain salts of
silver spread upon common writing - paper. In the
camera-obscura, when properly managed, the light part
of the picture makes a dark impression upon the pre-
pared paper, the degree of darkness varying in intensity
with tne amount of light. It thus happens that the
picture, unlike the impression made by mercurial
vapour upon a silver-plate, is in shade the reverse of
the object before the camera, and it has been styled
a negative impression. At fi);st sight this appears to be
a defect, but it is, in reality, a great advantage; for it
gives to this branch of photography the power of mul-
tiplying its impressions indefinitely. The negative
picture, preserved from the further action of light, or
fixed, in photographic language, is placed above a sheet
of pajier prepared by an easier though similar process ;
and being exposed to the direct light of the sun, it soon
gives upon the paper below a reverse copy of itself, in
which the lights and shades are the same as in the
object originally depicted. This has been called a
positive picture, and they can be produced in any
number from a single negative.

In uU these pictures it will be observed that they
have one great defect, inasmuch as the actual colour of

* "nie term Pliotoifrnphy i» dorlvcd fnim two Greek words-
/lAof , jihoint, lislit, nnd ijraphHii, to writo or draw ; hcnee nlso
phototype. ITif BynonymoiiB t«riiia HulloKrapliy, from Miot, tlie
aim, nnd ffraphfin—anil PhotoRcnic DruwiiiK, from pholoi niid
I ■wiitl, I gi'iicruti', iiiv ocoahlunally, but loss frequently, usttl,

PHOTOGEAPHT.

the object is not given— they exhibit light and shade
only; and although ntterapts have heen made, with
gome decree of ruccbbs, to give variety of tint* to a
chemically-prepared surface by the solar ray divided
into its primitive colours by a prism, and even by
coloured pictures in the camera-obsoura, we feiir it is
highly improbable, from the very principles of the art,
that a coloured objoct can ever be depicted in its natural
aspect. Still, the sun-pictures are very beautiful, and
no less surprise and delight by their remarkable mi-
nuteness and fidelity. In the following description cf
the photographic arts, which, from its brevity, will admit
of little notice of their history or scientific piinciples,
we shall chiefly attempt to supply a practical guids to
the artist; and although many new processes have been
proposed, we shall not advert to them, as the original
arts, though now somewhat modified and altered, are
still unequalled in the perfection of their results.

In the first place, the photographer should know that
the sun's ray — the active agent in his hands — is not a
simple element, but a compound of several parts.
When it is made to pass through a triangular glass
instrument called a prism, it undergoes a bending or
refraction from its straight course; and as its elements
are not all equally refracted, they can bo exhibited
apart from each other by receiving the depicted beam
upon any reflecting surface. The white ray of light
is then divided into red, orange, yellow, green, blue,
indigo, and violet rays — those colours, namely, with
which we are so familiar in the rainbow. Of these, the
red ray is the least refracted, and the violet the most.

In addition to the visible coloured rays, it is possible
to detect at least two other elements of the original
ray which have been also unequally refracted : these
are heat and the power of chemical action. The heat
is found to be greatest in the neighbourhood of the
red, or least refrangible, and it diminishes rapidly to-
wards the more refrangible rays ; while the power of
causing chemical action is greatest near the blue and
violet, and diminishes as rapidly towards the red. It
thus happens that a surface reflecting red or orange
gives little of the chemically-acting element; while a
blue or violet colour abounds in it. If the light is
transmitted through a coloured medium, it obeys the
same law. Red, by obstructing the blue and other
rays, obstructs most also of the chemical power; while
a blue medium allows it to pass freely.

The camera-obscura, which is so essential to the ]iho-
tographer, has been already describe 1 under Optics
(No. 16); and it is sufiicient to state at present, that
for photography any kind of instrument may be used :
from a common spectacle-glass, fixed in a hole in the
end of a box of the simplest construction, to the more
expensive apparatus made with one or more achromatic
lenses by an expert optician. The valuable properties
for this art are sharpness or miimteness of the image,
with a large admission of light — that is, a bright, as
well as a clearly-defined picture; and these can only be
obtained by the use of carefully-mnde lenses, corrected
for the imperfection of the ordinary maj,'nilying-glas8.
If a comnmn lens or spectacle-glass be employed, the
light should be admitted through a very small aperture
or diaphragm in front of it ; and whoever uses such an
instrument, should recollect that the chemical rays of
light which produce the photographic picture are more
refrangible than the principal light rays, and he should
accordingly place his sensitive plate rr paper a little
nearer the lens than the sharpest visible image. This
distance can be found by a few trials; and a tolerable
picture may thus be obtained by a very inexpensive
instrument. Where success is more desirable than
economy, a camera should be procured which has been
adapted for this art by a good optician; .md they are
now manufactured with glasses corrected for the de-
fects of the common lens, as carefully as in the tele-
scope, and provided with all the means for securing the
best focus, and for introducing the prepared plate or
jiaper so as to correspond with it. The following dia-
gram represonta the construction in common use. A is

a sliding tube in front, by which the lens can be
adjusted to the proper focal distance; the other end of
the box is provided with grooves, so as to admit a thin
wooden frame, or pane of glass at will; B is one of

A |i-

those slips or frames for receiving and inserting the
prepared plate or paper.

In the practical working of this instrument, when
the object to be taken is immovable — as a building,
or a landscape — a very small aperture should be used,
whereby greater sharpness is given to the picture; but
if the light is feeble, or rapidity is of consequence — as
in the taking of portraits — the aperture should be as
large as is consistent with moderate distinctness. Some
cameras are provided with a piece of ground glass, on
which the sensitive paper is laid; and it is thereby
supposed that it can be more accurately placed in the
focus. Excellent cameras can be obtained on the con-
tinent from Voigtliinder of Vienna, Graff of Berlin, and
Chevallicr and Lerebours of Paris. In this country,
the best cameras we have met with have been made
by Mr Thomas Davidson of Edinburgh.

THE DAOUERREOTVPG.

The method of fixing the images of the camera-ob-
scura upon metallic plates is due to M. Daguerre, a
painter in Paris, from whom the art takes its name.
It was discovered by him while engaged in a series of
experiments, at one time carried on along with ]M.
Niepce of Chalons, a gentleman who had even attained
some success by another but very inferior process before
he became acquainted with the experiment of his
partner. It was divulged by Daguerre in 1(139. Si.'ice
that time the art has been simplified, and rendeiod
greatly more rapid by the employment of a substance
not known to Daguerre; yet the beauty of the original
pictures of fixed objects made by him has not yet been
surpassed. It may be divided into the following stages
or operations : — Polishing the plate; giving the sensi-
bility to light ; taking the impression ; rendering it
visible by mercury ; removing the iodine, &c. ; and
lastly, fixing the impression.

For these processes certain chemicals and articles of
apparatus are requisite; namely — highly - polished
platea of silverised copper : they are manufactured at
Sjeifield and Birmingham, as well as imported from
France. T) ree or more boards of half-inch deal, 2 feet
in length, and 4 or 5 inches broad, covered on one side
with cotton velvet, applied above u layer of cloth or
flannel : these arc termed buffs, and are for polishing
the plates; one is dusted with finely-powdered tripoli
or rotstonc, and another with calcined lampblack,
placed in a muslin bag. Two deep glass troughs, a
little larger than the plates to be used: they are en-
closed in wooden frames, and have carefully-ground
plate-glass covers : one of them is charged with a layer
of powdered iodine, mixed with arrowroot, and the other
with a preparation of bromine, made by either of the
following methods : — 1st, One part of a saturated solu-
tion of iodine m spirit of wine is added to six or eight
parts of water, a saturated solution of bromine in water
is then poured intn it, until the whole becomes of the
colour of Madeira wine; and a small quantity of this
liquid is poured into the glass when required. 2d,
The bottom of the glass is coveied to the depth of a
quarter of an inch or more with arrowroot, moistened
with water, acidulated with ten or twelve drops of
sulphuric acid, eight or ten drops of bromine being
mixed with it when required, and renewed as often
as the reddish-brown colour becomes faint by the eva-
poration of the bromino. A camera-obscura, provided
with the necessary frames or slides for receiving the

733

CHAMBEBS'S IN70BMATI0N FOR THE PEOPLE.

prepared plate*. A deep box, with an iron cup at the
bottom, holding two or three ouncei of mercury, and
with a lid opening at the top of the box, and slanting
to iti hinges, with an inclination of 45 degrees. A
solution of one part of hyposulphite of soda in ten
parts of water. A solution of chloride of gold, &c.
made as follows : — th" -ty grains of hyposulphite of soda
are dissolred in twenty ounces of distilled water, to
which i:i added, drop by drop, a solution of chloride of
gold in a small quantity of pure water, the mixture
being well stirred all the while.*

Ilavini;, if necessary, cut the plate to the size of the
camera slide by a sharp-pointed knife, or pair of strong
scissors, it is polished by briskly rubbing it i.pcn the
polishing butfs, beginning with that which has been
dusted with the rotstone, then on that which is covered
with lampblack, and finishing with the clean velvet.

When it is perfectly bright and resplendent, it is
placed (in a nearly-darkened room) over the glass con-
taining iodine, where, in a few minutes, it receives a
coating from the iodine fumes, which should appear of
a golden -yellow colour over the whole surface. Care
must be taken to avoid too long exposure to the iodine,
by which the yellow will speedily pass into purple,
..iicn it will be necessary to repolish the plate. In this
stiite it may bo used for taking bright and stationary
objects ; but an exposure of several minutes in the
camera is necessary. When rapidity is required, the
plate, after attaining the golden-yellow colour, is trans-
ferretl from the iodine box to the other dish containing
the bromine ;jreparation, where it speedily receives a
coating fror. the bromine vapour, and assumes a violet
hue. It is now much more sensitive to light, and the
amount of bromine may be so managed that a picture
can be taken in a single second. 8ome manipulators,
after giving tliis coating of bromine, replace the plate
for an instant over the iodine, and thereby imagine
they prevent spots, and produce pictures of a finer tone.
In sonic cases it is expedient to carry the first appli-
cation of iodine as far as a reddish hue, and then to
ajtply the bromine until a blue shade is produced. Even
bromine alone may be used; and this gives the greatest
sensitiveness of all. In practice, however, this extreme
sensitiveness is not desirable, from the difficulty of
catching the exact lime to stop the action in the camera,
when the whole exposure is so short. If it is an instant
too long, the gradation of shades is lost, and the whole
picture may become of a uniform white when sub-
jected to the subsequent process : it is then said to be
solarised. In reality, the exact quantities of the sensi-
tive coatings, and the time for exposure in the camera,
are only to be learned by practice. They vary according
to the clearness of the sky, and the colour of the object
to be taken; so much so, indeed, that even the most
expert Daguerreotypists are often obliged to make a
few experimental trials in conmienciiig their opera-
tions for the day. In practice, the best portraits are
usually taken when the sensitiveness is such that eight
or ten seconds are required to make the impressimi;
and this degree is attained with a good camera, when
the plate, after being iodised to a yellow, has been
brought to a violet by the bromine.

The plate, as soon as it is made Hensitive, is placed
in the frame or slide by which it is carried to, and ex-
posed in the camera-obscura; and when the impression
IS taken, it is again removed to a dark room, where it
ia fixe<l, by an appropriate contrivance, on the inside of
the lid of the mercury-box, so as to rest with its pre-
pared side towards the mercury, and sloping at an
angle of 45 degrees. The mercury being now heated by
a spirit-lamp, the vapour rises, and the image is gra-
dually unfoldtd; when it is sufficiently distinct (care
being taken that it is not too much mercurialised, by
which its whole surface would be dimmed), it is laid
in a plate or shallow trough, and the hyposulphite
solution is poured upon it, to dissolve off the iodine

» The iliovc-dcsoribol apptiratiis may bo swrn nr obtained iit
IVstnon'a, cabinetmaker, liarthcn MounJ, Kdlnburgh.
734

coating. This should take place very rapidly, and the
solution may be poured back into the bottle through a
filter for further use.

The picture is now partially fixed, and it would
remain for a long timo unchanged if protected by glass.
It can be remarkably improved, as well as rendered
more permanent, by a process discovered by M. Fizeau,
by which metallic gold is precipitated upon the plate,
and uniting with the molecules of mercury, augments
its brightness, and consequently the strength of the
picture. The process of M. Fizeau is as follows : — The
plate taken from the solution of hyposulphite of soda,
and very carefully waahed by pouring a stream of
water over its surface, is placed upon a horizontal sup.
port, and covered with as much of the gold solution as
will remain upon it. The flame of a strong spirit-lamp
being now applied, the improvement is seen to take
place rather suddenly, just as the liquid begins to boil.
If this is carried too far, a film of metal will start
from some part of the surface of the picture, and the
whole will come oft' so easily that the impression is
utterly spoiled. The plate is now quickly thrown into
water; water is freely poured over its surface; and it is
dried by holding it with forceps, in a slanting position,
over the flame of a spirit-lamp, so placed that the dry.
ing shall begin at the top, and pass rapidly downwards,
the last drops of water being blown otf by the mouth.

The picture will now admit of being coloured, if it
be thought desirable, and it is done very simply by
dusting or laying over it any metallic pigment of the
required tints. When the picture is unsatisfactory, it
should not be subjected to the fixing process, but be
carefully repolished on the velvet bufls; and if it bo
much soiled or scratched, it must undergo a previous
friction with tripolt powder and oil, and be strongly
heated by a spirit-lamp. The same plate may thus bo
made to undergo many trials.

The finished picture must be protected in a glass
frame.

THE TALBOTYrE.

The other branch of the photographic art, by which
the pictures of the camera are retained upon common
writing-paper, is the discovery of Mr Fox Talbot, and
was styled by him the Calotype (Gr. kalos, beautiful).
Depending in principle upon the blackening effect of
light upon the salts of silver — a fact which had long
been known to chemists — the idea of taking impressions
of objects by this means was not new, although no one
had met with much success in its i)ractice. As early bs
1802, Mr Wedgewood published a method of making
profiles by the action of light upon paper or leather
which ha<l been coated with a solution of nitrate jif sil-
ver; but his exiMjriiiK'nts were attended with littb suc-
cess, and he was unable to preserve his pictures from
the further action of light after he had made them. Mr
Talbot himself, in a process communicated to the Royal
f^ociety on the 'Jlst February 11(39, so far anticipated
his own ,','reater discovery; another step towards if wa«
soon after made by the Itev. ,1. Keade, who emjiloyed
the infusion of the gall-nut to increase the sensitive,
ness of the argentine preparation ; and finally, Mr
Talbot divulged and patented the Calotype in Feb-
ruary 1H4I.

It is this art, now usuallj called the Tallvitypc,
which we propose to describe. It has been improved in
some respects with the experience of eight or nine years,
and it now diflfers materially from the original patented
process in its details, although in principle it is still
the same. The substances employed in it are— nitrate
of silver, iodide of potassium, commonly called hydrio-
date of potass, gallic acid, pure and crystallisable acetic
acid, and hyposulphite of soda — all of which may be
obtained in a state of sufficient purity at the shop of
any res])ectable chemist. It is very much otherwise,
however, with the paper on which the pii'ture is to be
taken; and we believe that many incipient photo,
graphers have thrown up the art in dcsjiair, because
they did not happen to use good paper, and were not

PHOTOGRAPHY.

type,

roved in

le years,

latented

is stilt

-jiitrftte

hydrio-

le acetic

in Ay be

shop of

herwiac,

is to be

photo.

bccauKe

yerc not

aware that their want of jmecest could be owing to this
cause. It is to be hoped tlukt ere long the trials, now
in the hands of more thaii one experimentalist, will
result in the use of glass plates, or some fabric more
perfect than any paper at present in use. The desir-
able qualities in paper are a smooth, line, and uniform
texcuro, with a sizing so strong, that the paper is not
bibulous when put into water, and especially the
absence of all chemicals, sometimes employed in its
muiiufttcture. These requisites have usually been found,
in a tolerable degree, in a yellow post, bearing the
watermark, ' Whatman, Turhey-miU,' and better in old
than in new specimens. Until some fabric of better
qualities is produced, the photographer should examine
all the varieties of paper he can find, in which he will
be assisted by dipping them in water ; and having
selected and marked the most perfect specimens, he
should subject them to a comparative trial of the whole
process, to discover the best. The paper, before it is
subjected to any of the preparations, should be cut into
pieces a little less than the camera slide, as it ex-
pands when wet : and being marked to distinguish
the side, each portion is to bo coated with iodide of
silver, by the following process proposed by Mr William
Wurlong in 1844 : — '25 grains of nitrate of silver are
dissolved in one ounce of distilled water, to which
about 34 drachms of iodide of potassium is then added,
and shaken until the copious yellow precipitate is re-
dissolvsd. This solution is to be freely brushed over
the marked side of the paper by a clean and dry
camel-hair pencil, or with a little cotton wool. The
paper is then allowed to dry spontaneously at a lire;
and when dry, it is immersed in a basin of tepid
(not hot) water, when it speedily assumes a yellow
colour by the precipitation of the iodide of silver into
its texture. It may be placed in cold water, but then
the ytUow colour is longer in appearing. It is now
to be well washed in several changes of water, or al-
lowed to lie in it for an hour or two, when it may be
again dried on clean blotting-paper, or at a fire, or
pinned up to dry spontaneously. It is called by pho-
tographers iodised paper, and it may be kept for years.
The following solutions are required for the next steps
of the process, which should be conducted by the light
of a caudle, or in a room from which daylight is nearly
excluded by a red curtain ; — 1. A saturated solution of
gallij acid in distilled water; 2. A solution of 50 grains
of nitrate of silver in 1 ounce of distilled water, to
wuich is added 2 drachms of pure crystallisable acetic
acid; 3. The preceding solution diluted with eight
times its bulk of distilled water.

iv^hen a picture is to be taken, the dilute solu-
tion ..No. 8' is freely brushed over the surface of the
iodised ])aper by means of a camel-hair pencil, of the
kind called ' swan quill,' or by a bit of cotton wool,
which is more economical ; and by the use of a fresh
quantity for every application, is alwaya clean. The
' BupertluouB solution, after about half a minute, is
blotted oft' by one or more applications of clean white
blotting-paper; and the paper, now sensitive to light,
is carefully placed in the slide, to be conveyed to the
caniera-obscura. When the o])eration in the camera is
concluded — which will occupy from twenty seconds to
three or four minutes — the slide containing the paper is
recoil veyed to the darkened apartment; and a mixture
being niiade of equal parts of solutions Nos. I and 2, it i<i
very freely brushed over the fac<; of the paper as before,
and allowed to remain upon it so as to bo wet, until
the picture, which soon appears, is sufficiently strong,
or till the whole surface begins to turn brown. It is
now to be ioimeroed in clean water, where it may re-
main excluded from li.^'ht for many hours, until it is
convenient to fix the impression.
The above process admits of some variations: for

example, a few drops of the gallic-acid solution may
bo niixe<l with the dilute solution No. 3, for applica-
tion to the iodised puper, and it will niako the iniprca-
sion come out sooner. If the sensitive paper must be
kept some time, as an hour or two, before it can be

used, then the solution No. .1 may be made more
dilute, even to three times the extent directed, with
advantage. If the picture unfolds itself of a reddish
hue, more gallic acid should be immediately applied ;
and if the whole surface darkens before the picture is
sufficiently strong, it is often an indication that there
is a want of acetic acid in the sensitive solution No. 3.
In this case an additional quantity must be added;
care being taken, however, not to use an excess, which
impaiis the sensitiveness of the paper. If the picture
still appears of a dusky hue, the iodised paper should
be exposed to the sun for ten minutes, which often
improves it; and if, after all, a good picture cannot be
obtained, the fault in all probability lies in the paper
itself, ^ome artists do not use dilute solution No. 3,
but make the paper sensitive by No. 2 undiluted, and
bring out the picture by No. 1 alone.

The weather most suitable for the photographer is a
bright day, with a clear blue sky and sunshine, if the
object be to take buildings or views; lor portrait-taking,
however, a clear day without sunshine is preferable.
Great success cannot be attained in foggy weather,
or in the smoky atmosphere of a large town ; and some
coloured objects, particularly such as are of a reddish or
tawny hue, always make a comparatively feeble impres-
sion. We were once long puzzled on finding the por-
trait of an individual invariably covered with blotches
corresponding to white spot.' on the negative, until at
last it was seen to depend upon a multitude of freckles,
scarcely otherwise perceptible! It is for the same rea-
son that many paintings cannot be well copied by the
Talbotype; the reddish or yellow colours, which may
be the brightest parte of the picture, reflect the chemi-
cal ray feebly, and .are dark in the finished positive,
while every tint of blue which reflects it strongly is in
the same degree too bright.

The negative, after being immersed in water for an
hour, to be freed fronj all undecomposed nitrate of sil-
ver, may be preserved from the further action of light,
or fixed, by simply wetting it thoroughly with the solu-
tion of hyposulphite of soda, when it is to be again
immersed for some hours in clean water; but it may
be fixed, and the yellow coating of iodide of silver re-
moved by one operation : thus — place it in a common
earthenware dish of sufficient size, pour over it a few
ounces of the solution of hyposulphite of soda, and
then heat the d.sh over a fire until the yellow colour
is removed, which will happen before the liquid ap-
proiiches a boiliii vi perature. Another neg.ative may
be thep. whitenc' _, the same solution. The hypo-
sulphito of soda ,>hould now bo removed, by placing
the negative in wa'er f )r twelve hours, or by repeated
washing. ^Vhen the impression is not too fait>t, the
negative may lie improved by waxing it, which is ac-
complisbod by placing it on blotting-paper over any
surface 1 .,.;' iently hot to cause the wax to melt when
rubbed upon the picture- an excess of wax, if any,
being wiped ofi" with blotting-paper. Black spots on
any part of a negative may bo obliterated by touching
them with a solution of 20 grains of oyanuret of potas-
sium in 1 'hachm of water, care being taken to prevent
it from jipreading. The same solution is useful for
removing the black stains from the fingers, so charac-
teristic of the Talbotypist.

Positive impressions are obtained from the finished
negative in the following manner : — To a solution of
50 grains of nitrate of silver, in . ounce of distilled
water, add strong liquid ammonia until the precipi-
tate which is at first formed is re-dissolved. This
liquid will form a sufficiently sensitive ccatlng on
some kinds of paper, which may be discovered by
trial. It acts well on a thick post by Nash. Brush
it frocly over the paper ; dry it thoroughly, either
before a fire, or slowly in a room nearly dark ; and
place it upop a flat l^oard, which is covered with a layer
of cloth or several piics of paper. Lay the negative
over it with the picture-side downwarud, and cover the
vholc with a thick glass plate, screwed down to keep
the negative closely applied. When now exposed to

735

CHAMBERS'S INFOliWklATION FOR THE PEOrLn.

ilayligKt or sunshine, the light passes through the j heoii seen most faithfully depicted, wliich, in the oiij;i.
negative, which gives a reverse impression of itself on | nal view, required the use of it telescdpe to be obsorvc<l.
the paper below, the lig!its and shades of the picture . ''his extraordinary finish of detail, causing no detii-

being now in their natural state. A convenient positive
apparatus niav be made by fixing the plate-gUss in a
frame, which is hinged upon the flat board, and secured
by a catch or buckle. Some specimens of paper do not
blacken readily with the above preparation, and in
that case the paper must be suited, by dippin it in a
solution of a teaspoonful of comuion salt in half a
gallon of wat^rr. When dry, it wii'. be found to answer.
A solution of nitrate of silver alone may be used with
salted paper; and by varying the strength of the nitrate
of silver from 4U or 50 grains to BO or 100 for each
ounce of water, and exposing the positive frame to
diffused daylight, or to strong sunshine, a variety of
tints may be obtained for the positive picture. The
time necessary to make a positive impression varies
with the transparency of the negative and the amount
of light. T" •' ;;ht ■'jn:'hiiie, a light waxed negative
will be oopicu two or ihree minutes; while, in other
circumstances, a whole day may be required. It is
advisable to uii'' • the po-iitive rather too dark at first,
as it may be ) c nve;'. to uny degree of brightness by the
fixing pii)ce?9 it hsis afterwards to undergo. It is now
immersed in wa' foi an hour, or washed in a weak
solution of 8«'.. a>> water, i.0 decompose any i-tiiiaining
i t.i.ii Lid in a dish in the s(dution
soda. If the impression is nut too
soon removed; but if otherwise, it
/tnin'M in it for some hours, oi' oven
a day or two, until it be reduced to the proper shade.
The hyposulphite must now bo caiciuliy rt'inovcd, by
allowing the positive t«) remain not less than twelve
hours in water, frequently chan;rcd, and, finally, it
mIiouM be immersed in Int water ior half an houi-, :o
insure the complete removal of the salt. If this is
not done, the impression luuy become gradually weak-
ened after many moi ths. It may now, if desirable,
be fixed on Hri:>tol-board, by means of isinglas, f^nui
wat«'r, or weak glu5.

The positive jirocess may bo employeil to copy lace,
leaves of plant.«, manuscript, or printing; on one side;
etchin;.'!!, engravings, or drawings, the first impression
being of course a nej-ative. A coUfCtion of valuable
etchings may thus be copied without injury, and from
each of the nccative ini) lessions so obtained any num-
ber of fac-similcs of the original may be multiplied
at a Very trifling cost.

It is a singular fact in the histoiy of photogr.-viihy,
that the first methods uainoly, tliese which we have
now described in detail- should ha>e been given to
the woild almost perfect from their origin. Uiscoveries
so remarkable could not fail to attract many experi-
tienters into the same field; and the chemical action of

nitrate of ■'ilver, a.
of hyposulphite of
dark, it should
may he allowed t-

ment to, but rather adding to the hainiony of, the
general effect, imparts an inexpressible charm to these
pictures; for thoy actually seem to be the reality itself,
and not an imitation.

The portraits from the life which were first taken by
this process had many faults: their hue was pale and
leaden, and the length of time required for an impres-
sion was such that no features coald retain their ex-
pression : the mcvemcnts insepi^rable fiom a long
sitting impaired also the sharpness of the form and
outlines; and though still extraordinary in this respect,
the picture had always a stiff and death-like as])cct.
Now, however, by the increased rapidity of the process,
by which a sitting of a few seconds only is necessary,
and that in a light which can be borne without cflbrt or
pain, the Daguerreotype portrait seems to be the most
perfect approach to the living rcrJity which can be
imagined — the passing smile, the very softness of thu
skin of youth, are faithfully recorded.

In the Talbotype [licture the effect is different, and
it has a value also peculiar to itself. Its delicacy in a
landscajie or building is far inferior to the Daguer.ci.
type, yet still the impree'ion Is as minute as paper can
i-eceive; and while the tone ..-•i 'le varied to almost any
shade of reddish-brown or blaLK, a good impression,
once obtained, can bo multiplied without limit, and at a
cost which enables the amateur to distribute his works
as widely as he may desire. For this last reason ai^u
the Talbtilype is continually available, and affords a
]>erpetual source of amusement and delight.

It has been said that a common incident, graphically
narrated, excites us great an interest as a wonderfUi ad-
venture; and so also do we derive pleasure from the
graphic delineation which the Talbotype gives us of
even a common object : a bush, a stone, or an ell'ect
of light, may exhibit as much of the beautiful aiid
picturcsiiuc as a study of much pretension. To the
painter, such subjects iive invaluable — they show liim
how nature should be viewed; and we could name thof=e
in the highest rank in that profession who have takcu
lessons in this school, and have not been ashuincd to
avow tlieir master.

AInny j)ortraits by the Talbotype are not good or
pleasing likenesses, from irnperlection in the pajicr
employed, or from a painlul laok, or total .vant of ani-
mation, sometime.) unavoidable in a i)rocess still too
long. Individuals whose habitual appearance depends
inoro on the expression than the form of their features,
mxv also fail to obtain a gooil resemblance. Hut many
people .lislike these pictures from inabiiity to appre-
ciate tbcir beauties. A glaring daub may be moiv
prized by the vulgar than a valuable painting by tlie

i.ght has now been miinite'y iovestigated in its relations | hand of a master; and the Talbotype ol' rare Ix'auty is
to numerous substance.^. Such intpurics have natu- '
rally produced many uew processes for the delineation
of the images of the camera- obstcura, as vsell as the less
delicate methods by superpi>Bition ; yet lunm of these,
as far as we konw, has rivalled its i)rogenitor either in
the certainty f perfection of its results. It seems,
therefore, sutiici^'rit to mention, that most of the new
processes, iM well as modi inform.itior ' the nciencu
of photography, are to be found in a sktiw ;-f ))apers
by Sir John llorachel ni the ' I'hilosophics,^ Transac-
tions of the Uoyal Society of London,' commencing in
1H40, and in a work entitled ' Kcsi irches on Ligl", by
Mr Robert Hunt.— (Longman and Vi>., London.)

The amatuur and nrofessiona! artists employ almost
e.xclusivoly the I>ag.jerreotypo and Talbotype, to the
compttrtttif<? cjuaiities of n-hich we shall now shortly
allude, fir the guidance uf those who wouhl atiomjit
fhe practice of the art, but are uncertain tn whi.li pro-
cess they shucld give tiie preference. The pei;ulmr
chanu-'ttristicb of the Oajjucrreotype picto.-e are its
extreme (i.d'vacy and minuteness, which ar':^ snmetimci
even ton minu e ft)r the unaji8i«t.id eye to appr'xiatc.

i)y the .iid

■f a magnifying ^lau, objects hsivs actually | Princes Streist, Hdinburgh

sometimes despised because it has not the brilliant
colourii'g ( r the open eyes of a commonplace portrait in
miniature. It is worthy of remark, tliaf those who are
acquainted with the wurks of Titian, I'ubens, IUmji-
br.%ndt, and other great p.tinters, are no less .unpriscd
than delighted to trace the resemblance in tl.eir works
to the impressions of tho Talbt)type, proving in this
manner the true observation of nature by the ancient
musters. Ami when the skill of the artist in arranging
the subject! is combined with de.\terity in tlio jdioto-
graphic rmiiipulation, no painter's hand can ccoiipeto
witJi these productions cf nature herself in the fidelity
ami power of their expression. We hav;. seen Tall»i-
types prod'iced jointly by the late Mr Hobert Adamson
and Mr I). I). Hill of Kdinburgh which warrant these
remurkK, ami have obtained this tribute from tho
greato.st among tin: pointers of tho present day.

.Soecimens of this art have l)ue>> )i(ibliishod by the in-
ventor himself in a work entitled * Tiie Pencil of Na-
ture' (liongmiiti, lirown, and (.0., London); :in<l niav
be iibttilned ft-ini .Messrs llannemitn and Malonc, lio-
gent .Street, London; !ind from -Mr .MexanUcr Hill,

MUSIC.

!;ooil or

piijior

of aui-

still too

iepeiids

l'eiitiiri'3,

it iimiiy

aiipic-

he iiioiM

by the

■auty is

brilliant

rtrait in

wlio are

s, I ton I -

irpribcd

ir -.voiles

in thia

iiioiciit

nimgii:;?

(hoto-

iinipelo

iidulity

Tiilbo-

\<lanison

nt tlii'so

ioi!i the

the iu-
of Nii-
(1 niav
one, Ho-
ller Hill,

It is the obje<H; of the following pages to exhibit such
a view ol' tbe principles and practice of music as
may be calculatad for popular information. The path
to musical knowledge has for the most part been ren-
dered rugged and toilsome by the interposition of many
needless difficulties. Things really plain and simple
have been invested with an air of rovstery; and tb?
great principles of the art, though in themselves easily
explamed, and casilv understood, have been buried be-
neath a mass of useless technicalities. The conviction
that this is the case has sometimes led to the opposite
extreme; and the study of music has been apparently
simplified by short-hand methods and mechanical con-
trivances, devised to diminish the labour of reflection
and memory. But there is no ' royal road' to music any
more than to nathematics. Skill in its practice is to be
gained only by a clear understanding of its principles.
A'l that the instructor can do is to divest those principles
of unnecessa'y obscurity, and to present the rules of prac-
tice in their jimplest and most comprehensive fonu.

The musical artist, whether as a composer, a singer,
or an instrumental performer, requires a very different
degree of knowledge and skill from the amateur, who
cultivates the art as an elegant accomplishment and as
a refined and intellectual pastime — an innocent and sa-
lutary relaxation from the severer cares and occupations
of life. !:> this point of i'iew, there is no station or
degree of society in which music may not be cultivated
with advantage. And the experience of the present
day has shown, and is showing more and more, that
even the classes who earn their daily bread by the sweat
of their brow, may find in music a recreation within
their reach, full of innocent enjoyment, and pregnant
with moral and social benefits. It has been found that
the highest pleasures which it can impart— pleasures
derived from the knowledge of its noblest productions
— .<vre accessible to the humblest as well as the highest;
and that it is to the toil-worn artificer and labourer
that music dispenses its best and dearest blessings.

Thosp, however, whatever may be their station in
society, who are ii derive such benefits from music,
must acquire a knowledge of it as an art, whose prin-
ciples and rules afford exercise to the intellect, and
whose lofty and beautiful productions exalt and purify
the mind. Many tribes, in a very rude state of society,
exhibit much sensibility to music, and derive much
jileasure from the simple strains in which, taught by
nature alone, they give expression to their feelings;
and there is no doubt that even to their untutored
minds music, such as they possess, is a source of nmch
higher and better enjoyment than th« mere gratifica-
tion of uense. Hut it is only, we repeat, where music
has become an art, and where its exercise is invested
with the dignity of an inlellectunl pursuit, that its
etfeccs as an instrument of civilisation and moral im-
provement become evident nnd striking.

It is of course to the more wealthy and educated
classes of society that the attainment of scientific know-
ledge and technical skill in music has been hitherto
confined. At this day, even those classes in this coun-
try have little to boast of in this respect; much less,
indeed, than they had two or three ccnturiec ago. In
the sixteenth wid seventeenth centuries, the music
chiefly cultivated in Kngland consisted of vocal har-
mmy, and the performance of the inimitable madriijak
of the Italian a.vA Knglish masters of that age was re-
garded as a most elegant ))astime, in which every one
who had preter sions to the habits and manners of good
society was supposed capable of participating. Kvery
musical student, as far as hi>i means and oj)poitunitic8
permit, ought to follow the example set in these times,
nud stu.ly ")oth the thuoiy anu practice of harmony;
for it ii impossible either to acquire a respectable i
No. 97.

degree of proiQciency in the practice of muiic, or to
derive real pleasure from it as a liberal and intellec-
tual pursuit, without that expansion of mind which ia
derived from a knowledge of its principles.

This study ought to De conjoined with the practice
of singing, or performance m some instrument. Great
facilities will be afforded hy being able to play ever so
liitle on the pianofortd'^ ^o do which, in so far as to
realise to the ear the effe>it of successioni of chords and
combinatioua of hannony, is a matter of no difficult
attainment. People will prcecute the study in different
ways, and carry it different .'ongths, according to their
different dispositions, opportunities, and views. Bat
we may say in general that a familiarity with the prin-
ciples which we shall attempt to develop, combined
with moderate skill and readinesa in singing or playing
on an instrument, will produce that enlargement of
view which is requisite for the full comprehension and
enjoyment of the noblest productions of the art. We
may add, that the study of harmony will be more plea-
aantly and successfully followed as a domestic and social
pastune than as a solitary pursuit. Members of a
family may follow it together; or a circle of friends
and companion? may form themselves hito a little class
for the purpose. Supposing them to have profited by
the methods of instruction, now so easily accessible,
so as to be able to sing from the notes vocal passages
of the simplest kind (if with a pianoforte, so much the
better), they will find little difficulty in mastering the
contents of the following pages.

THE SCALE.

Music is composed of sounds produced by the human
voice, or by instruments constructed for that purpose,
varying in pitch according to certain fixed and deter-
miuate degrees. The gradation of these sounds, from
the lowest . or most grave, to the highest, or most acute,
forms what is called the musical scale, a scale evidently
derived from nature, since, though it has been found
to be more or less complete in different times and
places, it is the same in its principal degrees in all parts
of the world. By using the different sounds or notes
of this scale in succession, in such a ii.anner as to give
pleasure to the car, melody is produced ; by using two
or more of them at the same time, in such a manner
as to be agreeable, harmony is formed. Melody, in its
simpler forms, is immediately dictated by nature, as
no people or tribe, however rude, seems over to have
been destitute of it. Harmony — though its effects, as
well as those of melody, must be foui;ded in nature — has
never been found to exist unless wiisre music has re-
ceived a cor -iderable measure of artificial culture.

The natural scale of musical sounds, though its extent
is limited only by thn bounds of the human voice, or of
the different instruments, consists only of seen notes;
for it is found that if, after singing or playing these
seven notes, we continue the series, ws repeat another
scale similai to the first, and so on, as far as the extent
of the voice or the instrument will go.

To express these sounds by means oi iiotation, va-
rious expedients, in the progress of i.u'sic, have been
resorted to, which have been gradually improved, till
tliiit now in use has been adopted. It consists in draw-
ing five parallel lines, and in placing on them, and in
the spaces between them, marks representing the notes
of the scale. At the same time the notes have received
distinguishing names, cither letters of the alphabet, or
syllables used for that purpose. Thus: —

GHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

There are only leren letten, becauw, aa already
mentioned, there are only seven notes in the scale. In
the above figure, the last note bears the same name as
the first ; and if the series of sounds is carried further,
tiie same names will be repeated. The last of the
above notes, C, being the eighth from the first, is called
its octave ; and the whole series, of which it forms the
beginning and the end, is called an octave. The inter-
mediate distances or intervals are named according to
the number of notes contained in them : thus, from C
to D, or O to A (counting upwards), e, leeond ; from C
to E, a third; G to C, a fotirth ; D to A, a fifth j E to
C, a tixth ; C to n, a tevenih ; ^d so on between any two
notes of the scale. The reason of these terms will be
evident by counting, for example, from E to C, a sixth ;
because it contains the space occupied by E, F, O, A,

B, C — six notes.

In examining the above aeries of sounds or octave,
from C to C, it will be ft and that the steps of the scale
are unequal ; the distance between the third and fourth
notes, E and F, and between the seventh and eighth,
B and C, bein^ smaller than the others. In singing
the scale, this ■■ m ''nee felt to be the case. While,
therefore, the .nu-r.al between C and D, D and E, F
and O, G and A, and A rr? D, is called a tone, the
smaller intern 1 between E and F, and between B and

C, is called r^ semt'i-.ie.

Tb'Oi scale. cin»''fore, to whatever extent it may be
oMrli'i" '"■om thn .'jravest note that can be produced, to
tho liv '■■'■-.ji cr most acute, consists of a series of oc-
taves : '; > in each octave, the interval between the
third i.o'd and the fourth, and between the seventh

and eighth, is a temilone, while the other intervals be-
tween a note and that next it are tonei.

It is easy to perceive that the five lines (or staff, as
it is called) above described can comprise but a small
portion of the musical scale, which is of indefinite ex-
tent, and limited only by the capacities of the human
voice, or of instruments. The explanations now to be
|i;iven are applicable to the voice, the orisinal musical
instruiuent, from which all others are derived.

The voices of women and boys are more acute, higher
in pitch, than those of men. ' If a man or a woman sing
the same lune, they will, if untaught, suppose that they
are sicginK the same notes, or in unison, whereas the
one is sln^g an octave above the other. It is for this
reason that a note and its octave are designated by the
same letter or syllable.

The great divisions of the voice, then, are into the
male and the female. But males, as well as females,
differ in the pitch of their voice ; and this difference
produces a subdivision. The male voice of the highest
pitch is called the tenor ; of the lowest pitch, the basf.
The female voice of the highest pitch is called the treble
or soprano ; of the lowest pitch, the contralto.

Persons pcsseesed of each of these varieties of voice
have, generally speaking, pretty nearly the same range
or compass of notes. Each volc', lu an average, may
be said to contain eleven or twshe notes, some more,
and some less. Were we to draw a staff of eleven lines,
placing the notes upon the lines, and in the sp.ices be-
tween them, we could comprehend the wholu :{tent of
the ordinary vocal scale, from the lowest noto, of the
bass to the highest note of the treble, thii.' : —

"""■

-&-

-fe»-

'^ *■

.Du.

-. .

-«=»-

jd.

-*■>-

L J

—

g-^

<-»

f-^

ITi

-Ol

-«=>J

jTJl

i"^

—

D E

But it is evident that this would be cumbrous, and that
the number of lines would produce confusion to the
eye. It is found that five lines are generally sufficient
for the extent of any one voice, by adding the simple
expedient, when a note happens to go either above or
below the five lines, of drawing an additional little line
for that note, which is called a leger line. Iiy this
means the staff, when necessary, may be increa led to
six, seven, or more lines; but too many leger lineii must
be avoided, as they render the notation confused.

Five lines, therefore, are taken out of the above
eleven to form a staff for any one voice; but each
voice will require a different set of lines. The two
great divisions of voice are the bass and the treble;
for the bass we take the five lowest lines, for the treble
the five highest. In order to distinguish these staves

from each other, we employ two arbitrary marks, the
one for the bacs, and the other fur the treble; thus —

23ZI

ttt:

The first is called the bats, or F clef, because it is placed
on the line which has the no'.e F. The other is called
the treble, or clef, because ;t turns on the line which
has the note O, as seen in tlic above eleven lines.

(Jf these eleyen lines, the five lowest being used for
the bass stafi', and the five highest for the treble statt',
one line remains in the middle, which is common to
both, and may be representod by a leger line above the
bass staff, or below the treble staff.

i> E P o ^ n D E p n

Sffjg g

*:>

£>:

S3:

xs.

■t>

o . t^

^j 1 1 ■ ■ — ■ — I — I — ■ — ■ 1 — I —

P G A B n D E P O A n
This is precisely the ortme as tlie above diagram of
eleven lines, er'tpt tbh ,; the middle note, C, is placed on
a iogcr liiiL instea<l of a lino prolonged like the others.

The above are the two clefs most generally use<l in
music; and were ther ■ no other than baas and treble
voices, no other clefc would bo necessary. But we
have Hcen that there ire a,lM<^ tmor and contralto (or
cnunter-tmor) voices : the ra.nge or compass of the
tcaur beiii^r four or fi'ti notes higher than the bass,
and the compass of the counter-tenor b"ing about mi
octave higher tlian the bass. The tenor (,. r* might be
writtpii on the 1)bs8 clef, but the notes would nut tx;
sprea*! over the five lines. The lowcv lines and spaces
73&

would be left empty, whilo the higher notes would rfi-
quiro leger lines. I'he same inconvenience would arise
from writing the counter-tenor part on the treble clef.
Two other staves, or sets of five lines, therefore, arc
oct4.<ionally usetl for the tenor and counter-tenor parts.
Both uf thorn arc distinguished by a mark called the ('
clef; bui this mark, forthe tenor, is placed or, the fourth
line, and, for the couuter-tenor, uu the third line ; thus —
Tcmir. <'o.intcr-Ycni)r.

-t3-

-e*-

S^i

Husia

The C, m both these starei, ia the lame; and it it,
moreover, the "^ which gtauils on tho loger liue between
tbo treble aud uaai ttareg,

The following dikgnun will ikow the relation in
which the difTereiit olefi, the treble, counter-tenor,
tenor, and bau, 8tand to each ether :—

OABODEFOAB

This, wo apprehend, explains itself. Tho notes which
are perpondicular to each other express tho same sound.
As, for example, the middle C, according to the clef
used, raay be written in any of the following ways ; —

-9-

BaiB. Tenor. Counter-tenor. Treble.

BaiB.

It is requisite to observe, how( , thai though tho
above clefs are necessary for thi. clear and correct
notation of rtusio for difforcnt voices, yet in music
printed for popu'ar use, the use of the tenor and coun-
ter-tenor clefs is now very generally dispensed with,
the parts for these voices being written in the treble
clef, an octave above the real notes intended to be
sung. But the learner should not neglect the knoW"
ledge of these clefs, as ihey are always used in music
of a high class. In the examples of harmony given
throughout the following pages, the treble and bass
clefs only are used, the harmony, even when in four
parts, being written in two staves. But the learner

Ri^mibrcvo Minim CrDtchit

.ami Host. nnil Ueat. and Jiost.

will find it a useful exercise to write out these ex«
amples in as many staves as there are parts, giving to
each part ita proper clef.

TIME.

Thus much for the notation of sounds in rel»tton to
their pitch. But musical notes aru not only high and
low, they are also long and shwt; and their relative
proportions to each other in this respect are expressed
by iliii'erences in the fi nu of the notes. The longest
note in modern use is lepresented by a circle, as in the

EreviouB examples, and is called a lemibreve. A note of
alf its length is called a minim ; a quarter, a crotchet;
an eighth, a qiumer ; a sixteenth, a semvptrnfff ; and a
thirty-second, a demisemiquaver. They are written as
under. Certain marks, called rettt, are also used to
indicate pause or silence in ♦'-e music. They are re-
presented in the subjoined taijie — their form and posi-
tion being expressive of their duration. The simple
rule respecting them is, that a rest indicates silence for
so long a time as the note beside it may bo sung — a
minim rest being equal in duration to a minim note,
and 80 on.

Qimver

niid lU'st.

Semiqnnver

and itcKt.

Demiiemlqaavar

and Host.

liX

Jpt

P^^ir- ^u-^i ^m

A dot placed after a note is a mark of prolongation.
A dotted semibrevo is equal to three minims instead
of two; a dotted minim to three crotchets; a dotted
crotchet to three quavers ; a dotted quaver to three
romiquftvers; and a dotted semiquaver to three deini-
scmiquavers.

Mecuure, or rhythm, is one of the essential attributes
of music. Kvorybody knows the meaning of healing
time to a tune. By beating time, the tune or melody
is divided into a number of equal parts, which in mu-
sical notation are marked by lines or bars drawn across
tho statf; and hence each of these divisions of the air
is called a bar.

Each port.ion of the melody, comprised within the
limits of a bar, is also divided into equal parts. Some-
times the bar is divided into two equal pMts, and some-
tinses into three. In the former case the melody is
said to be in common time; in the latter, in tripie ttme.
This division of the music is primarily Intended to
correspond with that measure or alternation of accented
and unaccented syllables which occurs iu language,
particularly in poetry.

There are various kinds of eommoii m well as of
triple tiiii>>. The first kind of common time consists of

I one semibrt 'c (or shorter notes equal to one gemibre^e)

I iu each bar. It is marked C ; thus —

^^ ^^-o— t — €3t^^^ m ^ • ' JT- f -»JJJ— •■#♦♦-1

The second kind of common time consists of one mi-
nim (or shorter notes equal to one minim) in each bar.
It is marked J; moaning, that it contains two fourth-
jiarts of a semibreve (or two crotchets) in o. bar : —

The third kind of common time is marked ?. It
consists of six crotchets in a bar : but these are divided
into two equal parts, each of which is equal to a dotted
mi'iim, or what is called a triplet o*" three crotchets.

OHAHBBBffS 1SW0VMATSQ1X lOB THB FBOPUL

T])aM aU otoMmH M«'dWid«4 into tfo tripl«ta by
accenting the flnt noio ofencn triplet, or •oundtnc it »
little mora ttrongly tbui the othen. TUi ipeorei of
time U-aow r»reljr uied.

Tiw fourth kind of oonimon time ii m»rked j|. i^It
oonaiiti of alz dukvem in ».b»r, divided into two eqiuJ
purta, each of wnich ia » dotted crotchet, Or a ttiplet of
thiMquawn.

Each of theia tripl«ta,u%,)Mi divid^ iuto lix Mini*
quavan.

The last kind of common time ii marked *f,md
«on«fata of four dotted orotcheti, efech of which may be
divided into a triplet of three qui ran. The bar of y
ii juft two bars of | thrown into one.

)

Tripk time consitti, fint, of a dotted iemibr«ve, divided into three equal parti, each of which is a minim, or
two ciotchett, or four quavers. Thia U lion seldom used.

ffiV^] oil o l J J i i

^^ .11 u-fli 'till ji«>«rjii'ii{ i'>iiii;l.t j.( I.

•— #

roininmi

{I'll ^iili U'wwj'id i;iii'>/;iq <.■! ,\:ow)!im.t-. ;

_ . if a Hotted minim, d
'four aemiquavers, and marked j.

j "Secondly, of 4 a*bft«(f mWm, dlTided iptd three oqual psrti, each of whii h is a orotdiet, or two quaren, or

^ • II J }-n-n n n ii ^^^^

Thirdly, ot t^ dotted crotchet, divided ftoto three equ^l parts, and marked f.

^ j-IIjI] II J^ Jj J^ ^

Lastly, of three dotted crotchets, and marked |.

Although ihe dot is used for indicating the division of a note into three (instead of two) uqual parts, yot it
is common to divido notes into triplets without the use of the dot. Thus, in common time of a seroibrevc in
a bar, it may be divided thus —

e* — &■

■m »■ #

And in | time —

-**

In the«)i cases, the notation of C
timu is similar tc '^i and | to J.
When a note, without being dotted,
is thus divided, the triplet is fre-
qumtly marked with a small figure S,
but tbiv is not always done.

An iiidividual Ihu* may have parts of I'iffenut value
in it; thus in comiiiun time may occur—

m-m-

-&■

•#

-G^

And in triple time —

±^

^^-cM i

740

DivRBSiTT OP luna,

It has been already shown that the scale consists of
a series (more or less extended) of octaves ; and that
in each octave the intervals between the thin' and
fourth note, and between the seventh and eighth, are
eemitimes ; all the other intervals betwoen two adjoin-
ing notes being tunes. It is this inequality in the in-
tervals which produces the tune or melody of the ecalc.

In singing this scale, we may begin upon any notu
at pleasure; and this note, whatever it mav be, is called
the key-note. But on whatever note we begin to sin;;
the scale, we nmst, in order to preserve its tune or
melody, place the semitonei in the positions already
mentioned — that is, between the third and fourth notes,
and l>etweea the seventh and eighth. We have already
exemplified the scale, as commencing on the note C.
Take it now upon another note — suppose U.

33:

xx:

fl 7

But one of the intervals in this scale is not in its proper
place. The inten al from £ to F, which (as we have

urrsio.

AdifJm

■Mit) it » Minitoiie, ii here between the lixth and
MTenth, instead of being betwten the leveuth »nd
eighths while the l-.terral betwMn the leranth and
eighth ii a tone, imtead of being (m it ought) a eenii-
tone. The other irniitone, fk^nn D to C, ii iu iti right
petition. To correct thii, it ii only iieceuary to raise
tht pitch of the note F, lo ae to inaiie it a whole tovie
higlier than E, and coo»<») uently u eeroitone lower than
O. A new note i« thus ohtaiued, called F tharp, which
i( diitinguislied hy a partinular mark, aa under—

-«3»-

in:

-e>-

-o-

33=«^^-

» v» «> tr 4 t>

Again, comnience the isole on the note D-

T3-

-<a-

:xs:

-o-

jcs:

.-e*--

Tak« now the note F M tha klT.not« or foundatioo
of a Kale.

fV-

■EC

z^izss:

-o~

E F

Here the fint ieuiitone ie n|iiplaced, being between the
fourtI(;and flftb, inxisKil of {he third <^ndYourth:; The
other (emitoue ii righliy placed. To correct tnii, it
Ih ncceuary to depress the pitch of the fourth ift>te D,
in order to bring it nearer to the A ; and the new note
thus olitained it called D fat, dlatiuguithed by a mark,
at under —

T-r— €>-

k:fe:

xs:

-€>-

Here two of tie eemitones are out of their proper
placee, aa may Im teen at a glance. But we conect
the position of the iirst semitone by raising the pitcii
of the note F, at in the previous example, and we cor-
rect the potition of tho tecontUttuitonf jby raising the
pitch of the note C. Thya— - j

o Q

itcs:

X3=j^

IJtOC

-c?»~

In this manner the learner may fomi a uew scale
on er«ry liote of the octave. In 'Iniog gp, he will find
that every interval of a tone ina; ht divided into two
semiionce, by placing between tho two notes a third
note, at the distance of a seruitone from each. And
this tliird note may l>e obtain<!d bv raising the pitch of
tho tower of the two notes, or by lowering the pitch of
the higher. Thus the tone between C and may be
divided into two semitones, by inserting between these
notes either a C sharp or a I) |i|kt.

xs-#i3:

bo 1 ^ 1

The mark prefixed to the laat D >■ called a natural. When the p^tch of a note l)u been r^d b> lowered
by a sharp or a flat, this mark indicates that the note so altered is restored to its nat>j.'ral pitch.

By thus dividing every tone into semitones, r new scale may be formed, consisting entirely of eemitonei.
In the first place, it maybe formed by raising tht pitch of each note, excepting where semitones already exitt —

^Q- "^^ #«-»

-GT^T-prr

^^^^^4fcc

133:

Or it may be formed by depressing the pitch of each note —

bcj fyLt t'" wq "

- l?o tao ~F^F ^ bo.qo-^

In both these scales, the intervals between E and F,
and between B and C, being semitones at anyratc,
undergo no alteration.

The scale which thus proceeds entirely by semitones
in called the Chromatic scale, to distinguish it from the
uaiural, which is called the Diatonic scale.

The chromatic scale, formed by sharps, is not pre-
cisely the 8a;ne as that formed by ^afo, as the interval
called a semito-io is not the exact half of a tone. But
the difference i^i so minute as to be in some meo^sure
disregarded in practice; and on keyed instruments (the
organ and pianoforte) the two chromatic scales are
played in the same way ; the C sharp and D fiat, D
sharp and E flat, &c. being considered tb' same sounds.
But though the8<! sounds may seem the same to the
car, it is evident, from the preceding account of the
formation of the sci.'le, that they must not bo con-
founded :n musical notation.

By the formation of the chromatic scale, we obtain
twelve notes in eao!i octave; and upon every one of
these notes a sca'.e may be formed; or, in other words,
every one of thoe notes may be taken as a key-note.
Moreover, as several of the notes appear in a double
aspect, though identical in sound (as C sharp iind D
fiat, D sharp and E flat, F sharp and O flat, G sharp
and A fiat, and A sharp and B fiat), each of these double
forms of the same note gives rise to a different scale
or key, which, though consisting of the same sounds,
umst be differently noted. Each s'^ale or key is diatiu-

guisheil by a signatitrt, pointing Out the notes which
have been altered from the natural scale, by means
of sharps or flats. The scale commencing on O, for
example, contains one altered note, F sharp; and the
signature placed at the beginning of a piece of music
in the key of G, shows that wherever F occurs, it is
sharp. The signature of the key of D shows that F
and C, wherever they occur, are sharp. The signature
of the key of F shows that the B is always fiat; a.Tid
so on.

■ I > J

The preceding signatures are in the G or treble cilef.
In the C, or tenor and counter-tenor, and F, or boas
clef, they must vary according to the clef.

COVNIKR.

Tfv

:#:

izizr:

gj- ^ I I ^^^^^^

Bass.

741

CHAMBERS'S INrORlTAnOK FOB THE rKOl'LB.

tb« •IgiiMfirct Mid kojr-uote* of the difibrent keys in ccmiuon uae

the
ke.

one

five key ol C hiu bo ilgnaturo. \jf

F Khurp.

C.ii.iO

tll»tkaf»-

li flat.

niut

Aflat.

Uflut.

Oflut. t'flaU

From what hM been Mid, it will appear that wreral
of theM MftleHf though ilifferontlv iioUd, arf plujied on
ih« pianoforte with the eaine kcyi. ThUN C sharp,
with Mven (harps at the signature, ii the Rftrae aa U
flat, with flT« flat*; C flat, with leren flat*, ia the ian<o
aa D with flre itharpii; and V iharp, with fix tharpe,
if the (ante ai O flat with «iz flati.

The above are the principal gharp and flat keytr,
with the use of which it ii neceosaryto be iaiuiliar}
but them are othen occasionally but rarely uned.
Aud, indeed, the series, whether of sharp or flat keys,
tn^ be carried out indeflniteiy.

By afllxing certain syllables to the diflferent degrees of

the diatonio scale, the singing of music a.1 sight is much

fiwilitated. The syllables used lor this purpose are—

1 8 S « S « 7

Do Ro Mi Fa Bol Lit Bi

The first, or Uo, corresponding to tho key-note. For
exftrajple, with the signature of three sharps, Do is A;
Re, B; and so on. Upon the recurrence of the key-
note in its octare. Do is again used, aud a second series
is founded upon it. By tlieso nieanii a certain note of
any scale is always associated with a certain syllable,
and a certain interval definitely marked •>•/ tne sj^l-
lables at its extremities. The practising J: ti<' c with
syllables in this manner is called Sol-fa-- n;-i,

THE HINOB HCALE,

The scale hitherto describei^ in vii.i>< ;. .^k Rcn, ;tones
stand between the third and >ourth, «i>d ioUvf en the
seventh aud el^Itth, is called the iMJor scaio. i<: distin-
guish it from another, called the mn» scale.

If we comttence on tho »ixih note of the scale already
described, aud ascend to its octave, without altcriunr
the natural notes, we have the minor scale. Taking
A aa the uixth note of the scale of C, we have—

r \ • C> * *

a suuiitono; so that the ascenditig minor scale generally
stands thus i —

Differing from the major scale of A with throe sharps
only in the oircuiiiatauce that tho third is uiinor.

The minor scale thus admits of souie variety. U
may be written in either of t!ie above ways, or, while
the seventh is sharpened, the sixth may renmin un.
altered. But the scale, whether ascending ov deseond-
ing, is considered as consisting of tho notes given in
the first example. Tho minor scale of A, therefore,
has no signature at the clef, the sixth and seventh
notes being marked with sharps only when they ofour,
so altered, in the course of tho piece.

livery minor wale, being formed on the sixth note
of a major scole, is said to be relative to the major scale
on which it is so formed.

Thus the minor scale of A ia relative to the
major of -
The minor of . K to the major of

33::

■^y-

331

The charaoteridtics of this scale arc, that the semi-
tones are placed between the lecond and third notes,
and between the J]fih and sixth. In singing this scale,
it will be felt that this position of the sem^^-oues gives
the tune or melody a melancholy exprrrsion, which
distinguishes it fVom the major scale.

It is, especially, the diflfercnce between the interval
of the third in the two scales which is their distinguish-
ing feature. In the major scale, as we have seen, tho
interval between the key-note and the third consists of
two tones; ia the minor scale, the interval between
the key-note and third consists of a toi^e and semitone.
The one kind of third is .Ailed a invjor third, the other
a mirtr: Mrd.

The other marks which distinguish tho above minor
•Okie from a miyor scftle — namely, the semitone between
the fifth and sixth, and tho whole tone between the
seventh aud the eighth — are not always presorred. It
is one of the refinements of modem music, that in rising
from the seventh to the eighth, we always do so by a
semitone, whether the scale be major or minor. AVfien
this is don:, the sixth note of the scale is also mt^d
742

C
G
D
A
E
B

£b

Db
Gb
cb

The minor of D is relative to the major of
... O
•.. ... C ... t(»

The signati i-e of every minor key is the ?ame as that
of its relative mi^or. Thus C major aud A minor
have no sharp or flat at the clef; major and K minor
have one sharp; D major and B minor have two sharps;
P major and D minor have one flat; B flat m^or and
Q minor have two flats; and so on.

INTKRVALS ov TIIK BCALG.

The next object of attontiou ought to be the intervals
of the diatonic scale. This scale may be called the
alphabet of music ; as from the various successions
and combinations of those sounds the beauties of me-
lody and harmony are derived.

The intervals of tho scale are expressed by numbers,
and are called the second, third, fourth, nflh, sixth,
seventh, aud eighth, or octave. Each of them is of
different kinds.

The second is major and minor. Tho minor second, or
semitune, is the interval between the third and fourth
notes of the scale, and between the seventh and eighth.
In the key of C, these intcrvnls are —

MVatO.

Minor Iccaiid*.

Th« major itcond, or too*, ii the InttTTkl ba>
twMii Miv' Mtlior ao(u uf the Mwln and that iuinM-
diataly ndjoinluK, at be(w«eu C aud \),ii and £, V
Uid (i, iic. ' ■

Mi^lur Hccontlt.

^^M-*Uus ^^ s^^^

TIko tbiril is majot and minor.

Tho fi'tjiir third ciixmaU of two ton«i;
anJ K, F and A, and 13 —

I between C

-«=»■

:z2:

-ti

Tho minnr third Qoniitti of a tone and a Mmitone;
»• bctwocn D and F, E and (I, A and C, B and D—

Minor 'I'lurila.

I'urfeot Pourtb*

Tho tharp Jburth coniiits of a
ini^ur third and a ton*, or of three

Nliar]> I'uurtli.

23r.

-t>

■^^z-.^^cS^

-Or

tonei (wl'
th* trilo
Th

'"e it i) ■omotinici called
>M between f and Ii.
"irftot, and jflipmyiw!*

HiHts of a uii\jor and a minor third,
a semitone) as between C and 0,
• and C—

I'r.i-foct FIftha.

-e>

-e*

JOt

:C5

The/oMWA is perfiot, and «Aai7).

'lilt! ptrfect fourth consists of a major third and a
Mmitone, or of a minor third and a tone ; as between
<J and F, D and 0, E and A, (i and C—

The imper/cot ox flat f\f\k is tli^ perfect fifth dimiiiishoil by a gemlton''; as between I) and tho F of the
next ootave, or between any of tht- nbove porfect fifths, after the lower note has been raised, or the upper note
duprcssed by a semitone ; ua between C sharp and (i, T) sharp and A^ £ sharp and B, F sharp v)d C ; or
between C and U flat, D and A flat, K and U flat, or F and i.) flat —

Imperfuet Fiftin.

isg^^i^s^

Tho dxih is trutjor and minor.

The mnjor sia'/A consists of a perfect fifth and a tone; aa between C and A, H and Ii, I" and D, O and E —

Th*» minor «utA consists of a perfect fifth and a semitone; as between Ii and (', A and F, 11 and O —

Major Sixths.

Minor HixtliB.

The seventh is major and minor. The minor teventh
consists of a major sixth and a semitone; as bctAveen D
and C, G and F, A and O, B and A —

Minor SovonttiB.

■e*

X3E

■^r

■xy

The minor seventh may also bo considered as a minor
sixth and a tone, or as a fifth and a minor third, or as
an octave wanting a tone.

The major teventh consists of a major sixth and a
tone; as l>etw«>en C and B, F and E —

Major Sevenths.

-€»

The major seventh is an octave wanting a semitone.

The octave is from a rote to another of the same
denomination; as from C to C, D to D, &c.

Intervals which extend beyond an octnve are, the
ninth, tenth, eleventh, tweljlh, kc. though it is seldom
found necessary to extend these denominations further.
From the relation between a sound and its octave, it
follows that simi'' - relations exist between these
larger intervals tuid those already enumerated. Thus
tho ninth is considered as corresponding to the second,
the tenth to the third, the eleventh to the fourth,
and the twelfth to the fifth. Tho above are all the
intervals which are derived from the diatonic scale.
There are several others derived from the chromatic
icalc: but to these it is not necessary to advert at
present.

Tho n^reeable succession of these intervals consti-
tutes Mi. i.onr; and OS there may be tunes (melodies)
composed of the notes of one scale, or portions of seve-
ral, arranged in all varieties of interval, and with all
diversities of rhythm, it is manifest that with these few
simple elements— as its aliihabet — may be constructed
the inexhaustible 'anguace of Music. The following
example will illustrate the production of melody by
the mere alteration of the regular order of the notes of
the scale : —

:i=3t

|S=K

*rr

Angels ev ■ cr bright and lair, Take, 01 take mo to your

caie

748

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

2.0

1.25 1.4

6" —

►

Photogr^hic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. MS80

(716) 872-4503

OHAMBKBEPS mrOBMmm lOB THE PIOPIJL

BoiniUk all ih«#«Mnoa of mdodT, U if to Miuifr in JU fonn of Haei am (hat wo mnit turn for that rioh-
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hknnoBgrjM under —

'ofwhidritiiav^Ua; t jiyrm tiinrfbre to oQOiiiler tnterraltiu Uiqg nciij only betwMQ two

) interidf i>f

■ * ^AP-'- ii 4' '" ' * "^

rlil SaCOIfDS.

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^t)')'^T'^.'>)#7.t)« >nr«rt^i tw^ )>• thelfkwer not*, Yiy twing sawed an octATet may be placed uppermoit; or
^''$,^I?P^^ l'i'!?^^)*7 '^'^Mwlpw^r^ an:9c^Te, iRM

. jBjr mTeri|i9ii, a^i^oma ii.changf^'to.aierentb, and a lereBth to a aeoond; a third ii changed to a lUth, and
a,«zU^ tp a t^uid; a fourth to.a iAh,and afiftb to afourth.

Major interrala are changed V>»>iu<Mii *nd minw interrali are changed to m^jer. A minor woond becomes a
major Mventh, and a miy'or second beODmes a minor seTenth, A mi^jor Ukird becomes & minor sixth, and a
minor third becomes a m^or sixth ; and so on, as in the following eaamples :t- , h

BacoNDs.

Minor.

i~~^

M^Jor.

t^n

C\J i

^ ^S\ '' *^

i^cs:

SaVIHTHB,

Minor.

■joit

-^M

JCX.

-Qi-

-CJ-

yil n'jl^i-iw^ad m )ris(i(0 /-.'Ki.')*"!*!!) m ivm'^ fi\>^ryrM , uii ■■ ■ i. * "iiii (C'lfi

'iiiil ij.biin -I liilii.;. i.i .^7 'il '!" I ! ihjiT j. li t.-.|'j."! "*"*
( ' ' ' I ' I I ■

Minor.

33l

M^or.

^ "8

:§:

fiixms.

-*-4

^ Mi^tor, Minor. ^- ^ *

^> .".I I -ill M II o I I ■ ; I I ° II o I I

Interrali are divided into Comonant and Dittotumt.

When two (or more) notea are heard at the lane
time, it itlfouu^tiiai Ume of thei^ Intenral* ar^ agree-
able andjiitben^hagMBablbitQ th^ tar. T^e iq«rrali
which foMi the agraeiuHe combiuatlini ate.oalna omU
toiumt, the others diuonant. Harmony it not confined
to the use of conwnaaat 'nterrala or ooneordt only. On
the contfairy, the admixtnm of diuonant ln(«nrali, or
ditcortb, i[!^aoe* many of iu greatM beautiei.

The cofilonant interTals an the nufjoi- and im'iior third,
th« fifth, and the octave, with their inversumi — namely,
the moQor and minor tiiOi, and the /ourtA. The unitm
alao may,'fa|B included; becaiiae, though it cannot pn>>
perly be dalled aa interrali W it b the in^i^ion of
the octaviet and when uaeq l>y two or more iTplces, 1|
agreeable to the ear, and of use in harmony.

It must, however, be remarked, that though the
inversion,*^ the>third <the sixth) i^ ft agreeable ^ the,
ear as the third Jtfelf,liet thia is bi po meaiii tM case'
with the inversion ofifhe fifth (tKe; fourth): wjuch is^
so much less agreeable than the fifth, that it requires

(as will be afterwards shown) some of the precautions
reouired in the use of discords. .■ ,

teh dissonantt Intervals aM the majerVMid Minor
*mk<f, th4 ilunt\fMirik,Am mpafect fifKX and the
^o^ and MMor MveatAI ' ' ' '

The major and minor nin(h (the*bctaVe of tifc second)
are alao dissonant intervals.

I \ CI.A88IFICABI0N OP CHOROa.

Whiii any note is hearil, alon^ With its ^ira (mi^or
or mmor), its fifth, or its octave,' o)- with allHhese to-
gether, the combination (called a cAord) thus produced

is agrtjBable to the eaF^|:::3q;".:zzr.:-ir:

Sud^'a ch^ i»iif he fermedj^pon Wery-bple of the
scale. Th« chord so forftied is called tftriaArr

r^=l i -- tMi:M l ,1 I

.^ ,, / 8«i u «h.-j , Btt. ij „...«»rn 7tii. r\

K^-note. ' ,

The above chords will be found to be of three kinds.

The first kind consists of the fundamental note, with

its major third, fifth, and octave, and is formed upon

the hey-wAe, the fourth, and fifth of the scale. It is

called the m(yor triad.

The second kind conaiats of the mtnor third, fifth, and
oetme, Mid is formed upon the teeond, third, and tixth
notes of the scale. It is called the fflinor triaAi^-'"^"'^'-"-

The third kind consists of the minor third, the imjtfr-
feet fifth, and Octave, and is formed on the teventA taote
of the scale. As this diord contains a disaonaht ittter-
var(the impetfeet fifiliy, it ia much more aparitigly
used, and with greater precaution, tluun the others., ^It
is caUed the imperfiet triad. -" -''■'""» " ' '-

•■li* til an «ll" urj ^rlUl ^lijJliii '

TaiAOS.

The above triads are formed upon the scale in the
key of C major. It would unnecessarily multiply ex-
amples to exhibit the formation of the triads in the
other keyf. This the learner can, do for himself; and
it may M added (onee for all), that the examples and

exercises given in the sequel ought to be written by
the learner in a variety of keys, in order to make him
familiar with the practice of transposition.

The minor sco/s will give the same^ triMs, but dif-
ferently pi»cedt-4-j . _ — ri. ii: j:. '

TT'

^gr

I I ■-. II 'o- H M II O

■^ II o I I ■> II ° 11^

Key. id. 3d. 4tli. Stb.

«th.

71b.

GHAUBERS'S INFORlUjKtQir FOR THB PEOPLE.

The notM of which a triad consiiti^may be Uken in different po»Ui(m$ ; for example
-rr

In changing the poittion of a triad, the fundamental
note remains in the lowest place, or in the bats. But
the triad may also uuder^ different invertioTu, by plac-
ing the third or the fifth in the lowest place, or bau>

The third may be placed in the bau, prtlducing the
ohord of th« Iftird and iixA *—

~7T

:#:

■^

zac

^>--e--e»

The fifth may b« placed in the ban, prodttoing the
chord of the /ourth and sixth,

4 'dmH ^sM

w=^

jCH

-&-

And every other triad may be similarly inverted.

-.1' I I iSl" ^

■ o ■ o

•4»^

PROGRESSION OF CHORDS.

Although every note of the scale may thus be made
the foundation of a triad (or common chord, as it ^s also
called), yet| in forming a harmonious series of triads,
they cannot be made to follow each other at [deasurc;
but their sucoession must depend on certain rules de-
duced from the position of tneir fundamental note in
the scale to which it belongs.

In every scale, the most essential note is the key-tiott,
or tonk. This note, or one of the notes contained in
its triad, begins and ends every strain of melody or
harmony, and recurs so frequently, that its impression
is never lost upon the ear. Melodies frequently con-
sist entirely of the notes of this triad —

■&■

5^I =g5ll

Next to the key-note, or tonic, the most essential
note ii the fifth of the scale, called, from its impor-
tance, the dominant or ruling note. By adding this
note, and the notes of its triad, to those of the tonic, a
larger field of melody and harmony is thrown open.

.v:^^

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The triads, therefore, of the (onio and of th« iofninant are of the most frequent ocourmnce, and most easily
alternate with each other.

Alternations between the tonio and dominant, in different jmUums—

:et

-or

jOl.

:g:

-O

-e

JA^

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33:

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C*; <sH -yi

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33:

Alternations between the tonie and dominant, in different inverttoni —

-&■

Zfc

-ei

After the tonie and dominant
comes the fourth of the scale,
called the tubdominant, with its
triad —

748

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-ct

jOL

TTrnt.

-e>

30L.

♦ The dlCRerent posltloBB ftnd inversions of chords used for-
merly to bo marked by what are ciillod thorouijh bait figures ;
but aa thcso oru now only to bo met with In old musio books,
their use luui b«en avoided in the present troatist. Xbe modsrn
manner of notation is altogetbor a better ^rstein.

MTSIO.

AUernationB of the tonic, dominant, and lubdorainant triads, in different positions-

]\^ \ ^\ y ii^l^f^ ^

■6r

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Alternations of these three triads, in different inversions —

23 33

■e

tj r ej r

■G

-r-\ -.

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33:

The triad on the second note of the scale (called the
sitpertonic) is the next, in frequency of use, to the

{•receding three. Its employment may be understood
com the following example : —

i~~n

:©

:§

"cy

jCC

:g:

-Of

The above four triad»— the tonic, dominant, subdominant, and snpertonic — are the ntost essential. But the
triads upon the third and the »aAh notes of the scale (E and A in the scale of C) are also in frequent use,
blended with the others; as thus —

^=g=?

^ I 'j y I ii

:§

"or

33!

^^^=fv=3^

-Or

-er

r-r

The only remaining tri d is that on the seventh note of the scale, or the imperfect triad. One of its interrals
(the imperfect fifth) being dissonant, it is much less frequently used than any of the other triads. In order to
diminish its harshness, the dissonant note must fall, in the following chord, to the note immediately below it.
Thus F, the dissonant note in the triad of B, must fall to E. This is called resolving the discord —

33l

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— e

^=^=s=

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331

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Tonic. Dominant. Subdominant Bupertonic.

In the minor scale, the principal triads are placed on
the same notea, and in the same order, as in the m^or;
that is, on the tonic, dominant, subdominant, and super-
tonie. In the key of A minor, the relative to C major,
these triads are —

^am i : ^ ^ !

'" ° I I - II ° II o II

Here, it will be obserred, the tonio and subdominant are minor triads. The dominant is a miyor triad, and stipe)'-
tonic an imperfect triad. The following examples will show how they are employed : —

Alternations between the tonic and dominant, In different positions and inversions—

■©

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33i;

;g[^g+g^

3a:

3s:

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747

OHAUBEBffB INFOBXAnON FOB THB PBOPLB.

I I Infonntng progreuionb of chordl, aereral considera-
tions must be attended to. A chord must be regarded
as a harmonious combination of notes sounded at the
same time by several voices or instruments; and a series
of chords must be regarded as a succession of notes

Sunded %j several jHtribrmers, and forming several
ffere&t ^tU ot mekxjita, hesffd . at tha.saiue time.

Care, therefore, should be taken that the notes of each
part follow each other smoothly, as in the examples
already given. It will be observed, in general, that
the bass moves by larger intervals than the upper parts
of the chord. The following is an example of the
smoothest form in which i^ progression of triads can
be arranged :— ' I „ ;

j ^^.^H-H-^^^ ^

??=B

-ry

-Or

33l

JCX

-Or

IXS

js:

-^»-

It is not permitted to
make any two parts ascend
or descend together by con-
seeutivefifUu, or cmisec^Uive
octaves.

Take, for instance, the
progression from the tonic
to tie supertonic —
Sappose these qotes suns by four Toices, in the order
in ^hich they stand. Wnile the bass sings C, D, the
second voice will sing O, A, each note being a fifth (or
octave of the fifth, which is

rrr-

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the same thing) higher than
the notes in the bass ; and
the highest voice will sing
C, D, each note being an
octave above the bam. But
both of these are prohi-
bited, and may be avoided
thus —

Here, while the bass rises from C to D, the second voice
falls from G to F, and the highest voice falls from C to
A. The progression of the triads is the same, with a
different motion of the parts. This motion, when one
part rises while the other descends, is called contrm-y
motion. When both parts rise or fall, the motion is
called similar ; when one part rises or falls while the
other part is stationary (that is, repeats or continues
the same ^te), the motion is said to be oblique.

It is not easy to explain why two fifths, heard conse-
cutively in similar motion, should produce a bad effect.

seeing that the fifth is, next to the octave, the most
perfect consonance. But the fact is sufficiently ascer-
tained by experience. The prohibition of two octaves
in succession is of a diflferent kind. They are not effen-
sive in themselves, and are prohibited only when they
would produce a poor and meagre haimony; for a note
and its octave being considered as the same, if two
parts move in octaves, one of them is, in respect to
fulness of harmony, thrown away. There is, conse-
quently, no harm in making two parts move in octaves
when the harmony is otherwise as full as is requisite.
A whole strain of music may be performed in octaves
(as when a man and a woman sing together apparently
the same notes); but this is not regarded as harmony
at all, in the technical sense of the term.

CUOKDS OF THB BBVKNIH.

Besides the chords called triads, or common chords,
there is another class of chords, called chords of the
seventh. From these two classes, every chord used in
harmony is derived.

The principal chord of the seventh is formed on the
dominant, or fifth note of the scale. It is formed by
adding a minor seventh to the major triad on that
note —

Dominant of C major.

Dominant of A minor.

This chord may be taken in four porittons —
Major. Minor.

1 — ^j — 1

— \

748

vjfm

The ddmbiMt nTenth ii mnenlly followed by the
tonic. The diuonuit note (the ■mreiitb) ii raolved, in
the major, by fkllintt a leniUone, and iu the minor by
fallbg a tone into the third of the tonic, and the third
of the dominant chord risei one lemitone into the
tonic—

ffi

35z;

ocsz

Alternation! between the dominant terenth, in iti fourjiwi<ion«, and the tonic —

— -i- Ma JOB.

:kc

g -H- jra ^^- g

ITS

r> ~g^ yy err: -

1 ' II I Q i » n

33:

„ l>->l,tiiiiii: wlou 'Iu luii.liiiiiditio'J iuoiiimnifliJ J) »a

Minor. . ,. i ., ,..,,..,; ,.,,,.;,. ,( , . .. i .;.,:,,.

is:

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■ g l^ ^o - ^ ' ■■ g l ^^." ' ■ &

T '■■ I O

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The dominant leventh admits of three inversion!, formed by placing the different nptes of the choTid in the
bass. They are as follow, alternating with the tonic : —

Majoh.

f"'3liini., t-.i; . ■'

-G

33:

.rsz

TT-

:g:

-G

:g:

-fc»

— Of-

Third Inversion.

Flnt InTenion.

Second Inversion.

33l

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TTS

33:

Minor.

'.!; " ..liiii nij II j'lU.i"
• • ,i'-.il ' -n- It 'i>li.i!i-^,''

33:

-^fe

33:

■gl OiCT

-:gr

-:gt

-^T

-©-

-oL

H o

33:

The first inversion of the chord of the seventh is
called the chord of the sixth and fifth; the second in-
version is called the chord of the sixth, fourth, and
third (or, for shortness, six-fuur-tJiree); the third inver-
sion is called the chord of the sixth, fourth, and second
(or, M-four-two). These names will be evident from
looking at the chords.

In passing from the chord of the dominant to the
chord of the tonic, the third in the dominant chord,
which is the major seventh, or leading-note, of the scale,
must ascend by a semitone into the key-note. Thus
in the key of C, the note B, in the chord of the domi-
nant, must always be followed in the same part by C,
the key-note, in whatever manner the chords may be
inverted. Further, the third in the dominant (mord
ought not to be doubled, or sounded in more than one
part ; because, as this note must be followed by the
key-note, if this were done in more parts than one, we
should have consecutive octaves, which ought to be
avoided. In the preceding examples, the learner will

perceive that the B of the dominant chord is alwavs
followed by C, and that it is never doidiled. In like
manner, the seventh in the dominant chord, as it roust
be followed by the third in the chord of the tonic, muj»t
not be doubled ; because, if it were, consecutive octaves
would likewise be produced.

Another chord of the seventh, next in importance to
the dominant, is formed upon the second note of the
scale, or supertonic.

Bupertonto of C major.

Supertonic of A minor.

This chord may be taken in four positionn, and admits
of three inversions, analogous to those of the dominant.
The learner will write it in these different forms.

In the chord of the seventh ou the dominant, the
seventh, which is the discord, must be resolved, as already

749

OHAIIBBBS'S I5FOBlLinO> FOB THB PEOFLB.

mentioned. In the chord of the eerenth on the luptr-
ttmte (and in every other chord of the eerenth), the
ievenUi muit be not only reeoWed, but prepared; that
ii, thii note muit be heard, ai a ooneonanoe in the
preceding chord —

-trr

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xx:

o tj ■ ^

351

X£

Here the C, which !i the seTenth of the lupertonic,
ii prtparcil by being heard as the octave in the pre-
ceding chord, and rooked by falling to D in the follow-
ing chord. The F, whidi is the seventh of the domi-
nant, is also, in this case, both prepared and resolved.
But the seventh of the dominant is not neeeuarily pre-
pared, as may bo seen by the examples already given,
where it is resolved, though not prepared.

In the following example the seventh of the super-
tonic is prepared, while the seventh of the dominant is
not prepared : —

The following examples are in the key of A minor —

-JD

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331

These two chords (the dominant and snpertonic) are
the principal chords of the seventh; but chords of the
seventh (liko triads) can be formed on every note of
the scale. They are of four kinds — namely,

The chord of the dominant seventh, on the fifth note
of the key; consisting of a major third, a fifth, and a
minor seventh.

The minor chord qf the »evenlh, on the supertonic, the
third and the sixth notes of the key; consisting of a
minor third, a fifth, and a minor seventh.

The chord €{ft}ie major seventh, on the tonic and sub-
dominant; consisting of a major third, a fifth, and a
mc^or seventh.

The imper/eet eherd of ike Kventh, on the seventh
note of the scale; consisting of a minor third, an im-
perfect fifth, and a minor seventh. \

Dominant.

Minor chords of seventh.

Chorda of major seventh. ^""^ffvt;;!!?."'

^e = iue-iu p =i fe-B-ii^r- i i-tg^

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33:

jL^i i - II .. ii=n-n ° irr" i i

Of these chords of the seventh, the deminanl (as
already mentioned) u the most frequently used. Next
in frequency are the minor chords of the seventh —
namely, the chords on the supertonic, the third, and
the sixth. More rarely used are the chords of the
major seventh, on the tonic and the fourth; and, most
seldom of all, the imperfect chord of the seventl^ on
the seventh.

In eveiff chord of the seventh, the dissonant note
must be resolved by descending one decree. In every
chord of the seventh (excepting the dominant), the dis-
sonant note must alsr be prepared, by being heard as
a consonance in the previous chord.

In order that these conditions may be complied with,
the fundamental note of every chord of the seventh
must descend by a fifth (or rise by a fourth) to the
fiudameotal note of the following chord.

Thus the chord of the dominant must be followed
by the chord of the tonic ; of which progression ex-
amples have already been given. It is not necessary,
however (as has also been already shown), that the
fundamental note of the chord shall stand in the lowest
position. By inversion, any of its notes may be placed
undermost; but whatevei be the inversion, the fun-
damental progression is considered the same.

In regard to the other chords of the seventh, the
fundamental progression to the chord must be such,
that the note which forms the seventh in the second
chord shall be a third, fifth, or octave, in the first. In
other words, the dissonant note in the second chord
must be previously heard as a consonant note in the
preceding chord. This is designated preparing the
dissonance.

The followbg are preparations of various chords of the seventh i—

^ ^TfflfgTpffTffFn I I g I § II HJjjJI

7TT

ll°hin° l l.>l°ll'^t7r|Mvll

Es:

750

KUBIO.

Evtry ohord of the wrenth mntl lie ftttiiftd, bj iti Aindainent«I note falling; a fifth, or riting » fonrth, u
ihown in the cmo of the domintnt. The abore chordi of the eerenth are molred, aa well ae prepand; thue—

S^g^P

-Q-

-JCL

When a chord of the leventh ii reioWed, the following chord may be either a triad, or another chord of the
■erenth. In thii manner a leriei of chordi may be formed called a itmmei o/mentht, coniiitins of one chord
of the MTenth followed by another, and prolonged at the pleasure of tne compoaer. It ii generuly terminated
by arriring at the chord of the dominant, followed by the triad of the tonic or key-note. Thue—

The aboTS seriei commenoei with the triad in the key of C, and ends with the same triad, preceded by the
chord of the dominant. The intermediate chords are all ohordi of the seventh, in which the dissonant note ^the
seventh) is first prepared by being heard as a consonance in the preceding chord, and is then reiolved by falUof
a single degree. The preceding passage ii more elegantly written thus —

jcn

-e-

a:>.

jCS

-Or

It must be observed that, in passages of this kind,
the chords are not usually inverted, aa their effect de-
pends on the fundamental notes being distinctly heard
in the bass.

CH0XD8 DEBITED FROM THE DOMINANT.

That most important note, the dominant, may not
only be made (as has been already shown) to carry a
triad, or a chord of the seventh,
but alio several secondary chords
derived from the above.

By adding the ninth to the ohord
of the seventh, on the dominant,
we have the chord of the ninth
and teventh.

This chord must
be followed by the
triad of the tonic;
and as it contains
two dissonant notes,
both of them must
be resolved by de-
scending into the'
notes of the follow-
ing chord 2 —

In the relative
minor key, this chord
of the nmth and se-
ventii will be resolved
thus —

This chord of the ninth and seventh is frequently
used teitfumt its lowjst or fundamental note. It then
assumes the app< .tree of a chord of the seventh, on
the seventh note i i ':, a scale. But in this ease, it is
treated as if the fun'iamental note were understood,
and will be resolved into the chord of the tonio—

Major.

Minor.

The above chord, when minor, is called the chord of
the diminithed seventh, as it has the ajipearanoe of a
chord of the dominant, in which the interval of the
seventh has been diminished by reusing the lowest note
a semitone.

These two chords may be inverted by placing any of their notes in the bass —

Major.

"B^

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761

oHAMmm mroiiiMBiMr'iov^ TBinopLE

Miiioa.

( p^ I " y,i[-4-i l M,S| I I I I

] w=^

l U I ■> H ^rh^

In addition to the chordi which h«Ta boon alrMdy
•ipUined, oth«n are fonned hj imifing or lowering, by
» Nmitone, one of the notes of the chord. Theee alte-
rationiM* mere liceniee, justified, in particular CMet,
by elegance of effect, without altering the nature or
treatment of the chord.

The triad, or common chord, for eiample, may be
altered by iharpeniug the fifth, lo that it may aecend
by a iamitone, insteM of a whole tone, to the lubae-
quent not*. Instead of—

we may hare

The moit important of theee altered chords is that

which is called At ex-
treme ekarp tUrtk, It
is derived fh>m the
chord of the dominant.

Suppose we have the
folloiring phrase, in
the key of G:—

:g:

TT"

-rr

■ooauiK cuuru, wuit;u , ^ r,-\

minor chord of the / L* i ii

It on the second note i m .jj ~ Pt H

scale of C, into the 1 W j^ I "g""!!

of the dominant se- < 1^

3El±

-rr

The cloee or stop on the last chord, which Is the domi-
nant triad, may be made more decided by changing
the preoedbig chord, which ^ ^^

is the
ssTcnth
of the
chord

Tenth on the fifth note of
the scale of O, and resoW-
ing it into the triad of O,
considered as a new tonic —

Take this chord
its seeoiul inreieion,
and then Jlmtten the
lowest note, so that
it may fall by a «<•
mUuu to the note
following ; and
haTe—

«E^^

But as this chord,
containing a »harp
fourth, as well as an
extreme sharp sixth,
is too harsh, the
sharp fourth is left
out, and it is taken
that—

Or, instead of the
sharp fourth, the
perfect fifth is in-
serted —

There are here eonteoutive fifthn as, while in the ban
A flat descends to 0,
in the second part E
flat descends
In this case the
secutiTO fifths
no bad effect, and

part ri ,

to D. (

le con- I

I have I

are admitted by the
best composers ;
though others, more
scrupulous, avoid
them thus —

BDBPBireiONS, ftc.

The chords already described are all the real or atcn-
tial chords used in harmony. But great varieties of
harmony may be produced by blending the notes of ono
chord with those of another. If, after passing from
one chord to another, one or more notes of the first
chord are prolonged,

so as to be heard at
the same time with
the notes of the se-
cond chord, this is
called a ttupetuion.

Take, for instance,
the common progres-
sion from the domi-
nant to the tonic—

jCT.

The notes pecnliar to the dominant may be prolonged into the tonic, thus —

'^^

-e

-e^

-e

©i-s en

'q j M t^

JCk

.Ck

The notes, thus prolonged or suspended, become dmonancet when they are heard in the second chord; but
they are rendered agreeable by being prepared and ruohed. This is perfectly plain, from inspecting the
preceding example.

Suspensions may be formed upon any of the progressions from one chord to another which have been
already explained. To give examples of these in all their variety, within our limits, is impossible; but the
752

IfUBIC.

i
I

following ip«clm«n will gWa th« learner an id«» of tha manner In which ih*j are uied, I<et him compare
the following |>rogrefiion of chorde, ^ . houk iuipeniioni, with the tame progroiilou in wl^ioh luipeniloni
are iutroduced : —

Without iuipcniioni —

^ ^^^Ffe?=^ ^^^

^m^

EC=«[

ia_.— cx

TV-

With luipeniiont

P^^^^^

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331

Such paasagei are usually written more elegantlji thus —

5=^

'~ T ^ Tv

^3E

7~1T

It:

is:

-r s Oi

rs cs

The suspension may be placed in any part of the chord, either upper or under, the suspended note being
always prepared and resolved. For example, in the tenor, or the boss, see the following : —

F=§

331

F^f^

-t=*

-Cf

33:

ZZIZZ

33:

-©r

Suspensions are sometimes, but rurcly, resolved by atetnding. This generally happens when the seventh, or
leading note of the scale, rises to cho h.ey-note —

T^ 'I" M

33-

-&■

33:

331

Pofniiw notes are notes introduced to give a melodious smoothness to the passage from one chord to another,
and which, though not belonging to the chord, are yet harmonious to the ear. For example —

_, XX _x

SEf?

X X

-o-

afcf^=H^

ICE

351

No. 98.

758

OHAmnra nnoBMAiiov roB tbi piopli.

Htrt tha tuA- m»rk«d with » oroM do no« Wob. to
th« ohor.U, but mito m oonnootinf llnki to tboM which
do bolong to th«in.

Tb* pMting DotM wo gononlly unacctntod notes,
though ■vmetunot thty m« aecmttdt m—

l ^'i^ 1 J:ft I _j

^-ii

' m ^ ^ ., j ri-^ =a

The following ti ta exunple of pawing notes placed in the bass t—
-CI , n

ff=g

-fc»-

Sac

*=?-

ffi

^=PT

331

_5< X_

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331

Anlieipation is another mode of introduring notes not belonging to the chords. It is done by anticipating
a note — by sounding it before the chord to which it belong! it struck, as in the following passage : —

^■^ ■ ;iiVif^in|

E=ia

:rx

:xx

33:

Lastly, harmony by notes not belonging to the chords may be produced by pedal netei, A pedal note (an
called irom its being generally played on the organ bv the pedah) is a note in the basa, held on for several
bars, while • series of different chords is heard along with it. It is chiefly used in the tonic or the dominant—

i '•' "-1 f r

i j J I J J J J g ^

rm^rr rf

33:

^3lIIX

j J J , ^1=^

r 'Mr r °\ ^m

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-o-

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32:

33:

:n:

MODULATION.

Modulation is the art of passing from one key to another. A short tune, or melody, generally remains
in one kpy ; but in more extended works, it is necessary, for the sake of variety, to diverge into different
keys, according to the character and style of the composition. The field of modulation is of almost boundless
extent and inexhaustible fertility in musical resources; but their use requires much skill and judgment, and is
regulated by certain laws and principles indispensable for the preservation of unity and consistency.

The following simple phrases, all commencing in the key of C, show how a melody may pass into other keys: —

InC.

l—ff

35:

33:

From C to 0.

-el

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Thi
we se

koyii

7«

MUBIO.

From fl to F,

From r tn A minor.

pL^!(\ri}n.ir^s^m-^ ^s

From (' to O minor.

From C to II minor.

fr^ r r r ^ n'iT^^^^-iffH^P^^^^^t=^

The foregoing exunplti may show how • molodjr majr nwi from one key to another. Dy harmoniiing them,
we lee how the chordi of one key paM to thoM of anotner. It will be obMrred that the chord of the new
key ii ftlwayi preceded by the chord of iti dominant--

Inc.

Prom C to O.

s^ frrr ' °in ' -i?^ '' frrf ' -n'^^^ ^

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33:

JcJ.rJ J

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X£^

From C to F.

From C to A minor.

^-!^>J,cJ J . „ . .J. J. JrJ.^J

^"<V,rf i Ti^|: i M^-M^^^^

From to D minor.

Tu U minor.

-e

-o-

: |pi4j4jTi :i^

zat

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^ 'V'l ^

The above are the keys into which we can paas mo8t easily from the key of C major. If the original key if
A minor, the keya into which we can pan most easily aTe,C major, E minor, O major, D minor, and F major —

From A minor to C major.

From A minor to F major.

TT^^fT^SfF^

The learner mav exercise himself in making tran-
sitions from A minor to the other keys above men-
tioned.

In modulating from the k<iy of C to the key of any
other note of the scale, the new key will b« major or

minor, according as the third in the scale of the new
fundamental note is major or minor. Thus the keys
of F and of O (as well as C) are major; while the keys
of D, E, and A are minor. We do not mention the
key of B, m this key, in modulating from the key of C,

755

CHAMBERS'S INFOHMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

ia very rarely used. This note, besides having a minor
third, has an imper/ect fifth, F uaturnl; and to make
it the fundamental note of a key, whether major or
minor, its fifths must be made pirfict, by changing F
to F sharp — which is not in the scale.

In the above examples of transitions from C major,
or A minor, to other keys, these notes must be under-
stcGu as standing for any major or minor key, from
wliich transitions may bo made in the same manner.
Thus taking G as the original major key, transitions I

may be made to D and C major, and to A, R, and E
minor; and taking E as the original minor key, tran-
sitions may be made to O major, B minor, D major,
A minor, and C major. The learner should exercise
himself in writing similar modulations in all the diflfo-
rent keys.

The smoothest and most gi-adual modulation is effected
by means of a chord which is common to both keys;
that is, which belongs both to the original key and to
the new key —

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In the first of these examples, the first triad of G belongs both to the original key of C and to the new key
of G. In the second example, the triad of F (of which A is the bass) belongs both to the original key of C and
to the new key of F.

Modulation is less gradual (though it may be perfectly admissible), although the chord which immediately
precedtj the new key is noU common to both keys —

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In the first example, the triad of F belongs to the
original key of C, but not to the new key of G. In the
second example, the triad of G belongs to the original
key of C, but not to the new key of F. This kind of
modulation generally produces a chromatic melody, or
a melody containing an accidental semitone in one of
the parts; as from F to F sharp, or from B to B flat,
as above.

When a chord is succeeded by another, in such a
manner that one of the notes of the first chord appears
in the second chord, altered by a sharp or a flat, the
note must be followed by its alteration t» the same, part,
80 as to make a chromatic melody, as in the preceding
examples. When the note of the first chord appears
in one part, and the altered note of the second chord
appears in another part, this produces a fault, called a
faUe rdation; as, for example —

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The following example is a chain of modulations, in which every key is relative to that which precedes it.
AH the modulations are effected by an intermediate chord, which is the dominant seventh, generally employed
in one of its inversions —

C to A minor.

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A minor to K. V to U minor, U minor to A minor.

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E minor to C

C to F.

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Eb'oC minor.

C minor to A [>

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F to D minor.

D minor to C.

We may modulate into a key which is not relative
to that which precedes it (or its antecedent), provided
that both keys are relative to the primitive key, or the
principal key which predominates in the piece of music.
Thus, when the principal key is C, we may modulate
from D minor to £ minor ; because, though these keys
are not relative to each other, they are relative to the

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key of C. Supposing the primitive key to be any note,
we may modulate immediately from its second to its
third, from its third to its fourth, from its fourth to
its fifth, from its fifth to its sixth, and from its second
to its fifth, and vice versa ; these modulations will be
generally effected by means of two intermediate chords,
as in these examples —

From C to D minor.

From D minor to E minor.

From E minor

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From F to O.

From O to A minor.

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From V to E minor.

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D minor.

From D minor to C.

Observe that the D In the boss, marked with a cross,
does not belong to the harmony of the chord, but must
lie regarded as a passing note, leading from the bass-
iiote 01 the preceding to that of the following chord.

In modulating in this way from a key to another
which is not relative to it (as from F to G, or from E
to F),we must take care that the primitive key, to which

both the keys are relative (though not relative to each
other), be well determined ; for it is only when this
precaution is taken that such modulations can be pro-
perly employed. We can easily modulate from O major
to F major, by means of two intermediate chords, in a
piece of music of which the principal key is C major,
while we could not do so if the principal key were D or

757

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATtOK FOB THE PEOPLE.

E minor. Wbst ii good in the one cue might be bad
in another ; and all the above-mentioned modulations
— from the second note of the scale to the third, from
the third to the fourth, &c. — caa only be used under
the above condition.

When the primitive key is minor, in like manner
we may modulate from the fourth note of tho scale
to the fifth, from the fifth to the sixth, from the sixth
to the seventh, from the fourth to the seventh, and
vice vergd. The learner may exercise himself in find-

From C mqjor to D major.

ing examples of this rule, similar to those given above.
In the above modulations into the keys of diiferent
notes of the scale, the keys are mi^or or minor accord-
ing as their thirds, as they stand in the scale, are major
or minor, ae already shown ; aa we modulate from
C to D minor, E minor, &c. VVe may also, though more
seldom, modulate from C to D major, £ major, &c. ;
but this must be done by a longer chain of interme-
diate chords, so as to prepare the ear gradually for thu
transition. For example —

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From C major to E major.

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We may pass from a major to a minor key on the same note, and vice versu-

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We may likewise modulate from a given key to notes which are not in the scale of that key ; as, for example,
from C to £ flat, B fiat, A flat, &c. These modulations ought to be gradually effected, by passing into some
intermediate key, which is relative to the keys which precede and follow it. Thus, in order to modulate from
C to B flat, we may pass first from C to F, and then from F to B flat —

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In order to modulate from C to E flat major, we may pass first from C major to C minor, and then from C
minor to E flat ; and to modulate from C to A flat major, we may pass from C major to C minor, and thence to
Aflat—

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It may be laid down as a general rule, that as we may pass from a major key to a minor key on the eame
note (as from C major to C minor), or from a major key to the minor key of its subdominant (as from C major
to F minor), we may pass from a major key to all the keys which are relative to these two other keys. Thus
from C major we may pass to all the relative keys of C minor, or to all the relative keys of F minor.

Modulations from t' major to the relative keys of C minor —
From C to E flat. From C to F minor.

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From C to O minor.

From C to A flat.

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Modulations from C major to the relative keys of F minor —
From C to D flat major. From C to E flat major.

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From C to A flat.

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From C to B flat minor.

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The above rules and examples embrace the principal
varieties of gradual or regular modulation. But com-
posers, in order to produce uncommon or striking effects,
make abrupt or irregular transitions, by passing from
one key to another not related to it (as, from C to B
flat, or E flat, or D major, &c.), without the intert'en-
tion of any intermediate chord. In such cases, the
abruptness of the transition is frequently softened by
making a pause before striking the chord of the new
key ; or the same effect is sometimes produced by sus-
taining a single note, without any harmony, for a little
time, and striking a new chord containing this note in
its harmony. But the use of the sudden and abrupt
transitions cannot be reduced to any rule ; it must be
gathered from the works of the great masters. They
must be cautiously and sparingly used ; as departure
from rule can be justified only by the effect produced.

There is one kind of sudden modulation which, from
its importance, requires especial notice. This is En-
harmonio TrMisition.

The diatonic scale (as has been already explained)
consists of five tones and two semitones. By dividing
all the tones into semitones, we have a scale of semi-
tones, called the chromatic scale. In thus dividing the
tone, the intermediate sound may be regarded either
as the lower extremity of the tone raised, or as its upper
extremity depressed ; as, the intermediate note between
C and D may be either C sharp or D flat. Thus two
chromatic scales are formed— a scale by sharps, and a
(cale by flats. The tone is not divided into two exact

halves, but the difference is so minute, as to be disre-
garded in practice ; C sharp is treated as being the
same sound as D flat, and on keyed instruments is
produced by striking the same key. But though the
intermediate sound between C and D is regarded as
the same, whether it is expressed by the name of C
sharp or of D flat, yet these names cannot be indis-
criminately used in notation. Take, for instance, the
chord E, G, B flat, D flat ; and then take the chord E,
G, B flat, and C sharp. These chords are struck on
the same keys of the pii,noforte, yet are essentially dif-
ferent in their character and treatment. The chord
E, G, B flat, D flat, is a chord of the diminished seventh,
which requires to be resolved into the triad of F ; the
chord E, O, B flat, C sharp, is an inversion of a diffe-
rent chord of the diminished seventh (C sharp, E, G,
B flat), in which the C sharp is removed from the bot-
tom to the top of the chord ; and it must be resolved
into the triad of D —

Here, then, we have the means of effecting an unex-
pected modulation. If, wMe in th« key of F, we hava

759

CHAUBEBS'S INFOBUATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

the aboTe chord with D flat, we may, by changing that
note into C sharp (the sound remaining the same),
come at once into the 'key of D.

Enharmonic transitions may be made by means of
three chords — the dominant seventh, the extreme afiarp
tixlh, or the diminished seventh.

The chord of the dominant seventh may be changed

into the chord of the extreme sharp sixth ; and, vice
veraA, the chord of tho extreme sharp sixth may be
changed into the chord of the dominant seventh.

If we are in the key of C, for example, by changing
the F,the dominant seventh, into E sharp, the extreme
sharp sixth, we may come at once into the distant Vey
of F sharp, either minor or major.

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And of course we can reverie this progression, by
changing the chord of the extreme sharp sixth into the
chord oi the dominant.

The chord of the diminished seventh is that whereby
enharmonic transitions are most frequently made. Any
chord of the diminished seventh may be written in

four diiTerent ways, its sounds always remaining the
same —

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In the first of these, the leading note is F sharp, leading to ; in tho second, the leading note is D sharp,
leading to E ; in the third, the letting note is B sharp, leading to C sharp ; and in tho fourth, the leading note
is A, leading to B flat. Thus-

Key of a.

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Of n flat

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And as each of these triads of O, K, C sharp, and B
flat, may be either major or minor, we have here eight
diflTerent keys into which we may pass from one chord.
The great facility with which many unexpected tran-
sitions may be made in this manner, is a temptation
which young composers are seldom able to resist. They
crowd their music with crude and disagreeable modu-
lations, imagining that they are displaying learning and
akill, while they are doing what is in reality very easy.
The remarks on this subject by the celebrated Piccini,
one of the greatest masters of the Italian school, ought
to be kept in remembrance bv every student of music
— * To modulate,' says this illustrious musician, ' is to
take a route which the ear will follow willingly. It even
asks to be led ; but only on condition that, when ar-
rived at the point to which you have conducted it, it
may there find something to repay it for its journey,
and may enjoy some repose. If you keep it constantly
going on without granting what it demands, it becomes
weary, and will follow you no longer. To modulate is
not difficult ill itself; there is a routine for that as well
as all other occupations. The proof of this is found
in those enharmonic modulations which appear to the
ignorant the height of science, and are, after all, the
mere sport of learners. To create melody from a given
modulation, to quit it only by legitimate means, to re-
turn to it without harshness or insipidity, to make the
change of modulation a just means of expression, and
of judicious variety — these are the real difficulties. But
to quit a key almost as soon as we have entered it, in
become extravagant without reason or end, to proceed
by jumps and skips, merely because we do not know
how to remain where we are — to modulate, in short,
for the sake of modulating, is to prove that the artist
is ignorant of the end of his art, as well as of its prin-
ciples ; and that he affects a superabundance of imagi-
nation and learning, in order to conceal the want of
both the one and the other.'

The musical instructor can explain the means by
which the diflferent kinds of modulation can be effected;
760

but in the use of these means, the musician must bo
guided by the dictates of ear, taste, and feeling. It
may be said, in general, that the principal key, in which
the piece begins and ends, ought to occupy the largest
portion of it ; and that, in modulating into other keys,
those which are most nearly related to the principal
key may be dwelt upon at greater length than those
which are moi-e distantly related to it. But the varie-
ties in the course of modulation are infinite ; and thu
succession of keys, in any composition, must be the
result of judgment matured by experience.

CLOSES OR CADENCES.

There is an analogy between music and language in
regard to jtunctuation, A strain of music is divided
into periods, and these are subdivided into clauses ;
these periods and their subdivisions being marked by
closes, or cadences, more or less complete. These closes,
or cadences, are found either in melody or in har-
mony ; but the closes of a melody are more strongly
marked and defined by the harmony with which they
are accompanied.

The principal cadences are those which end on the
tonic, or key-note.

The perfect cadence takes place when the chord of
the tonic is preceded by the chord of the dominant.
Its most complete and final form is when the tonic itself
is the last note of the melody, and when the funda-
mental notes of the chords are placed in the bass. The
dominant may be either a triad or a chord of the se-
venth —

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Perfect cadences in A minor — ■

The tonic may be preceded by the subdoniinant —

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This cadence, from the subdoniinant to the tonic, is not
used OS a final close, except occasionally iu old eccle-
siastical music.

In the final cadence, from the dominant to the tonic,
the seventh note of the scale (or leading note) must
always be heard in one of the parts, and followed hy
the key-note. In minor keys (as well as major), this

seventh, or leading note, must always be ths ninjnr
third of the dominant chord, and must ascend to the
tonic by a semitone.

The nest class of cadences are those which end on the
dominant, and are called imperfect. The dominant may
be preceded by various chords — most frequently b^ the
tonic; but also by the subdoniinar.t, or the supertonic —

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These closes on the dominant are never final; some-
thing else is always expected to follow them. A close
on the dominant may be rendered more determined
by making the preceding chord a dominant, and thus
rendering the closing chord a temporary tonic. This
is a transient modulation into the key of the dominant
of the original key. In the key of C, the chord of D,
the supertonic, may be converted into the dominant or
dominant-seventh of the key of G —

Or the chord preceding the close may be one of the chords derived from the dominant; the chord of the
diiiiiitiiihcd sevrnlh, or the chord of the extreme sharp sixth —

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A cadence may t.ake place by passing from the tonic
to tha suhdominunt—

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This may be made more decided by converting the

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seventh to its chord ; thus making a transient luodula-
tiou into the key of the subdominaut —

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761

CHAMBEBS'S iNFOBlf AISOV FOB THE PEOPLE.

When WB ezpeot s perfect cadence from the domi-
nant to the tonic, the ear may be diiappointed or de-
ceived, by passing from the dominant to some chord
different from the tonic. The most common of these
is the ilUenupted eadenoe, in which the fundamental
note of the dominant chord, in place of going to the
tonic, risei, by one degree, to the sixth of the scale —

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The following are other instances of deceptive cadenea: —

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The use of such cadences is to prevent the strain from coming to a final close, by disappointing the ear
of the expected termination, and leading it to expect something more. This is well exemplified in the national
air of ' God Save the Queen.' The first part consists of six bars; at the end of the fourth, the melody comes
to a close upon the key-note; but, in the bass, this close is interrupted by rising from the dominant to the
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The following examples also show how, by such means, variety may be given to the repetition of the same
notes in a simple melody : —

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COUNTERPOINT.

Counterpoint is the art of composition in two or more
vocal or instrumental parts, in such a manner as to
render each separate part smooth and melodious, and
at the sauio time to combine them in the purest har-
mony. This art is to a great extent deduced from the
principles of harmony already explained ; but in its
practice, various considerations and rules must be at-
tended to, in order to prevent the music from being
harsh, and unnecessarily difiicult of execution. Many
persons can heap together full chords on the organ or
pianoforte, who cannot write, with purity and elegance,
a simple duet for two voices.

The rules of counterpoint depend in some measure
on the number of voices or instruments for which music
is written. The fewer the parts, the stricter are the
762

rules applicable to them. In two parts, things are pro-
hibited which are admitted in three or four. We shall
therefore give the principal rules of counterpoint, as
applicable to composition in two parts; and shall after-
wards show how they may be relaxed when the parts
are more numerous.

Counterpoint In Two Parts.

Two fifths, or two octaves, are not to be used in suc-
cession. This rule, which has been already explained,
is of rigorous application in this species of counter-
point.

It is improper to proceed to a perfect concord by
similar motion, except when one of the parts proceeds
by a semitone. It is necessary to explain, that the
octave and the fifth are called perfect concords, and the
third and the sixth imperfect Concorde,

MtJSIO.

It ii wrong, ttere/bro, In two parti, to u«e luch
greuions as theae —

pro-

But the following are adniittud

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In the melody of each part, considered separately,
the interralg eight, as much as possible, to be smooth
and easily taken by the voice. This is a rule more of
taste than of grammar, and the strictness of its appli-
cation must depend on the nature of the composition.
The ancient masters, who wrote for Toices unaccom-
panied b;)r instruments, did not admit into their melo-
dies the intervals of the sharp fourth, the diminished
fifth, nor the seventh. But in modem music, where the
voices are supported by instruments, all these inter-
vals are admitted. The principle of the rule, however,
ought never to be lost sight of, especially in vocal music.

In considering the two parts together, the same prin-
ciple should be observed in regard to the intervals of
harmony. The intervals most freely used are the major
and minor third, and major and minor tixth. The uni-
son and octave are seldom used, as their frequent use
would render the harmony meagre; there use is there-

fore chiefly confined to the beginning and end of a
passage. The fjlh it used more frequently than the
unison and octave, but by no means freely. The /our(A
must be used sparingly, and generally with tho pre-
caution of being prepared and resolved; and the tame
thing is the case with the second, seventh, and other
dissonant intervals.

Although thirds and sixths are the intervals most
freely used, yet a long succession of either must bo
avoided as monotonous. Such passages as the follow-
ing, for example (the first in thirds, and the other in
sixths), would bo poor and trivial :—

On this account, it is laid down as a rule, tuat no
more than three thirds, or three sixths, ought to be
used in immediate succession.

The monotony above exemplified is avoided, and an
agreeable harmony produced, by using thirds and sixths
so blended together as to prevent the recurrence of too
many of the same kind in succession; thus —

-xs

■33:

-E^

-Or

33:

JOL

jQ[

-e"

-o-

-e*

-CJ_

are me sixin l_A

najor seventh I. J^ - .

scale, iiiime- f jESZC

r preceding a VlS^2

as — ^

Ti-^

But it would be
better to make such
a close thus —

-t^

jQ.

It is impossible, in any case, to use more than two
similar thirds in succession ; and even two major
thirds in succession
can be tolerated only
in one case, which is,
when the two upper
notes are the sixth
and major
of the scale,
diately p
close;

Counterpoint, even when it consists merely of concords, may bo diversified by the use of the difierent kinds
of motion — the similar, contrury, and oblique. The following, for example, is composed entirely of thirds, sixths,
fifths, and octaves : —

-e-

-or

^-^

-c*

-Gf

-Gt

*3f

33f

-Qt

■^

-e>

tpsf

xs:

V>:tt (VWRS |S

£>.

-Or

3::^

-Or

€*-Qr

-er

The minor seventh, when considered as belonging to the chord of the dominant, may be used without pre*
paration, as also the diminished fifth, or sharp fourth, when considered as belonging to the above chord-

Ti^T^n

i^ 1 f^ 0|

*^ II .X Q

--■^H

it Y*

1 — t— ^

II 1 °-

— "— t — 1 — r

m-^ Q —

-^Ml V

1 -11 — ol.. <i 1

_^ H

763

^itAkBERS'S INFORUATIOI^ VOB TUE PEOPLE.

Our limited space prerente ui from going further
into thii branch of our lubjeot, and panting over coun-
terpoint in more than two partf, we arrive at

IMITATION, CANON, DOUIlLli: COUMERI>OINT, AND FUOUE.

The preceding pagei contain an expofitioii of the
principle* of harmony, which are applicable to every
tpeciei of com|)Oiition, It remaini tu point out leveral
reiouroei which are found eitential to the production
of beauty and variety ; as, without a general Knowledge
of their nature, to aa to bo able to perceive them when
they are used, it ii iiupouible to comprehend and enjoy
the worki of the great niasten. Of tneie, the principal
are imitation, canon, doubk counterpoint, and fugue,

ImilatioH is the repetition, in one part, of a phrase
or paiiage which hae already been heard in another
part. The imitation may be made either in the unison
or octave, or in some other interval above or below.
Imitation may be made by contrary motion ; that is,
when descending intervals in the one part are imitated
by ascending ones in the other, and vice versa ; and by
retrograde tnotion, when the imitation begins at the end
of the imitated passage, and goes backward. Imita-
tions are likewise made by augmentation ; tliat is, when
the given passage is imitated in notes of double length;
and by dimimUivn, when this process is reversed. Imi-
tation is strict, when the passage is precisely imitated
in every interval ; and free, when the figures of tlie
notes are imitated, so as to produce a general resem-
blance without an exact imitation of the intervals.

Canon is that species of composition in which two or
more parts are heard successively, in strict imitation.
Canon is based upon imitation ; but imitations are in-
troduced and abandoned at the pleasure of the com-
poser; whereas the whole piece or movement called a
canon must be in strict imitation. Canon being simply
strict imitation, it follows that there are as many kinds
of canon as of imitation — in all the different intervals,
by contrary and retrograde motion, by augmentation
and diminution. Canons may be in any number of
parts ; but they are generally in two, three, or four.
When they are so constructed as to close with a perfect
cadence, they are called finite, in opposition to those
called endless or perpetual, which go on till the per-
formers think ])roper to leave off.

Double counterpoint is that species of counterpoint
which is capable of being inverted in such a way that
the upper part may be made the under, and the under
the upper, vithout detriment to the goodness tind
regularity of the harmony. This inversion may take
place most easily in the octave; that is, an under part,
by being raised an octave, may often be placed upper-
most, even though the parts had been written without
this intention. But if the inversion is made in any
other interval — that is, if the under part is raised a
ninth or tenth, an eleventh or a twelfth — many pre-
cautions must be taken to render the parts capable of
being so inverted. Next to double counterpoint in the
octave, that in the tenth, and that in the twelfth, are
the most practicable, and frequently used.

Fugue is the most complex and difficult branch of
composition. A general explanation of its principles,
however, will enable the student to understand the
coiiftruction of the choruses of Handel, and the other
great ecclesiastical composers, in whose works the
grandest specimens of it are to be found.

Fugue consists of a tlieme, or subject, given out by
one part, and imitated by the others according to cer-
tain laws, and carried on with that mixture of unity
and variety which these laws are calculated to produce.
These laws, moreover, though derived from the prac-
tice of several centuries, are by no means arbitrary,
but founded on sound principles of reason and taste.
The fugue is pre-eminently calculated to express the
feelings and sentiments of a great multitude; nnd its
noblest examples are to be found in sacred music — in
the oratorios of the great German masters, and the
anthems of the English cathedral service.

The fugue consists of certain constituent or ele-
764

raentary parts. First, the Ihemt, or subject, which is m
leading phrase or melody, constantly heard, in various
forms or imitations, throughout the whole piece. Next,
the anstver, which is the imitation of the subject taken
up by another part. The correctness of the answer
depends on many considerations, which cannot here
be entered into. But the great principle on which it
depends is the division of the scale into two portions
or phrases; tlie one extending from the tonic to the
dominant, and the other from the dominant to the
tonic; the one embracing the interval of a J(fth, and
the other the interval of a /our<A,

VOICES AND MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS,

In order to reduce to practice the rules of melody
and harmony already given, a correct understanding
of the distinct qualities and uses of various voices and
instruments is indispensable. For want of this, even
in a choir containing good voices and respectable in-
strumentalists, all attempts to produce true harmony
have been failures, A voice or an instrument oiU of
its place may destroy the effect of a chorus otherwise
well performed. Sometimes a tenor voice will attempt
to lead the trebles; or Aflule will be employed to play
a eounter.tenor part an octave above its proper place; or
even a shrill and powerful female voice may be heard
sustaining the notes written for the contralto, but in
un inverted position, above instead of beloti' the air, or
soprano part. A professional musician may smile at
our notice of these gross mistakes; but they are, unfor-
tunately, very common among provincial choirs and
amateur societies. It is not uncommon to meet in
such associations an individual who can play with s^ne
taste and skill upon a certain instrument, while he
docs not understand its true position in the orchestra;
or in other words, its relation to other instruments.

In collecting a vocal choir, the first difficulty is to
find good and cultivated treble voices. On these the
clearness, brilliancy, and eff°ect of vocal harmony chiefly
depend. The true treble voice is found onl^ in the
vocal organs of women and children. An artificial voice,
extending into the treble register, and called falsetto,
may be produced by a tenor or bass singer; but its
effect is generally disagreeable. The treble voices of
boys require good cultivation to subdue harshness and
produce correct modulation ; but before this object is
gained, the voice generally changes its character by
descending into the tenor register. For trebles, there-
fore, we must depend mainly on feminine voices; and
one of the chief difficulties in the way of cultivating
good vocal harmony in this country is found in the
fact, that few young women acquire the art of reading
music and singing correctly from notes, while even
among these few, domestic cares and occupations often
prevent a regular and progressive culture of their
musical talents. The difficulty becomes still greater
when we inquire for contralto voices. The contralto
part, ranging between the treble and the tenor, and
partaking of the qualities of both parts, is often at-
tempted by men's voices, but requires a female voice,
like that of Mademoiselle Alboni, to give it with ease
and purity. A true voice for this part is rare; and as
it cannot be performed by memory so easily as the air
or first treble part, it requires also certainty in reading
music. Tenor and bass voices, having moderately
extensive registers, are common, as almost every man
possesses one of these voices in some degree, Wlien a
voice extends from the lowest part of the vocal scale to
the tenor C or D, having about a dozen notes, more
or less, and preserving its strength and fulness of tone
in the lower notes, it is called a bass voice, and con-
stitutes the fundamental part in vocal harmony. For-
tunately such voices are not scarce, though it is desirable
that they should be more generally cultivated, so as to
combine sweetness of tone with their sonorous power.
One tenor voice differs from another, as it possesses more
or lew of the bass register. The counter-tenor, or cou-

VOICES AND MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.

tralto Toice, risei lome four or fiv« notei higher than
the * .'\or, M this part riiet also loiiie four or tire notei
h'. : 'ban the buu. Both these tenors are employed
in ' -a vocal harmony to fill up the spaces Ivft between
the base and the treble; these parts are therefore some-
times called the outer parts, as the teuor and the con-
tralto are termed the tuner parts of a composition.

The four distinct voices thus briefly describe i may
be combined in various styles. A vocal piece of music
may be arranged in two, three, four, five, six, or more
parts, and is respectively styled a duel, a trio, a
quartett, a quinlelt, a icitett, or a chorus for a double
choir. Each of these compositions admits several va-
rieties. A duet may be formed of two trebles, or two
tenors, or two basses, or of liny two of these three parts.
It is obvious that the trio must admit various combi-
nations of trebles, tenors, and basses. The most com-
mon fonn of composition in four parts embraces the
four distinct voices. In this style of harmony the cho-
ruses of oratorios and anthems are generally written.
When any one part is doubled — that is, when two
trebles, or two tenors, or two basses, are arranged with
three other parts — the composition is scyled a quintett,
or a chorus for five voices: this is a rich style of har-
mony. We may observe here that the same composi-
tion which is arranged for treble, tenor, and ba^s voices,
may be also arranged for male voices only, or, in other
words, for tenors and basses; but in this case it will
be generally necessary to change the key, so that the
first tenor way be high enough to admit under it a
second tenor and a buss arranged with distinct and
harmonious intervals.

The discordant errors arising from ignorance of the
principles just stated are so common, and so entirely
destructive of good harmony, that too much can hardly
be said to expose them. No singer should consider
himself duly qualified, as a member of a choral society,
until he has such a clear understanding of the distinct
characters and positions of the various voiceu, and the
clefs which determine their registers, as will enable
him correctly to fulfil the intentions of a composer.

From the consideration of voc&l parts, we now turn
our attention to the most important instruments which
may bo employed to accompany choral performances.
These instruments, like the various voices, may be di-
vided into four classes — namely, treble, contralto, tenor,
and bass. The chief treble or soprano instruments are
the violin, the flute, the clarionet, the hautboy, and the
cornet-ii-piston. The lower notes of the same instru-
ments are generally employed to fill up the second
treble or contralto part; while to sustain the tenor, the
instruments chiefly employed are — the tenor or viola,
the tenoroon, the bassoon, the tenor trombone, the French
horn, and the tenor ophickide. For the bass part, the
leading instruments are — the violoncello, or bass viol,
the conlra-basao, or double bass, the ophicleide, and the
trombone. Of these and others employed in various
parts of music, we may give a brief account : —

The first of all soprano instruments is unquestionably
the violin, or, to employ the old Saxon name, tbejiddle.
If the organ is esteemed as the king of instruments
with regard to its power and fulness of harmony, the
violin may justly claim the same title when we con-
sider its pliability and biilliancy, the precision, and
indeed the perfection of the melody which may be pro-
duced upon it. But as it depends for all its modula-
tions on the mind of the performer, it may be made
the worst, as it is in other cases the best of instru-
ments. The invention of the violin in its present
form cannot be assigned to any exact date, though it
is certain that, in various forms, it has been employed
through several centuries. The first suggestion of such
an instrument may be found in the vibration of a string
tightly stretched over two small blocks of wood or
bridges. Other strings, similarly stretched, but in
various lengths, will, when agitated, produce various
tones; thus seven strings would give the diatonic gamut
of the seven notes. But such an instrument would be

but a rude and feeble attempt to produoe music ; lit
vibrations, produced by a touch ol the finger or the
stroke of a quill, would soon die away, and even while
they lasted, would have but little power, on account
of the want of a soundins-board o>' hollow shell. To
remedy this defect, a shell is made of resonant wood,
on which the bridge is placed; and now the vibrations
are strengthened and prolonged by being communicated
to the shell. Still no long notes can be sustained; the
instrument now resembles a lyre or a dulcimer, and
has few of the qualities of the violin. But, in the
next place, we discover that one string may produce
several notes, if it is stretched over a neck or finger-
board, upon which the finger of a performer may press
the string at various intervals, so as to produce various
vibrations or tones. We need not now have a string
fur each note; for one string will jtroduce some dozen
notes, while with four strings we can command thiee
octaves and upwards, or more than twenty-four notro.
Still we require some means of prolonging vibrations at
our pleasure, and this is found in a bow of horse-hair:
the fibres of which, when prepared with rosin, are ca-
pable of exciting vibrations of a musical striu{, in
a »o»<«iiiito, or f)rolonged and connected style. The
modern violin is now complete, and, though still a
simple instrument, seems to ask fo.- no further im-
provement. Its parts consist of a head, a neck, a shell,
a bridge, a tailpiece, and a finger-board. Four strings
are fastened on the tailpiece, stretched over the bridge,
and after passing over the finger-board, are tightened
by movable pegs in the head of the instrument. The
tones are then produced by a bow of horse-hair drawn
across the strings. It is obvious that such an instru-
ment may be constructed at the cost of a few shillings;
but even good materials and fine workmanship are not
sure of producing a melodious violin : while some old
instruments, especially the Cremona violins of 1660,
and others made by Straduarius, have a purity and
bell-like clearness of tone which is highly prized by
musicians. The violin, therefore, varies in price froiu
ten shillings to iloU or j£lUU. The uses to which
this admirable inittrument is applied are chiefly two :
it is employed in solo performances, and in concerted
music, in the fint st^le, its display of power is curious
and interesting; but m the latter it is more important.
As a solo instrument, it is capable ^f producing the
most rapid, or brilliant, or smooth melodies, or may be
played in harmonious chords. Paganini introduced a
style which may be called trick-playing, which, thougli
curious and amusing, has received too much attention;
among many other tricks, Paganini excitvd surprise by
playing a solo on the fourth string. Tho violin may
also be played in the pizzicato style, without any use
of the bow; and by a peculiar use of the fingers and
the bow, tones called harmonica may be produced, dis-
tiuct from the common tones ot '.^lo instrument.

But the violin is more important when regarded as
the leading treble or soprano instrument in orchestral or
concerted music. Its usual compass extends from the
tenor O to D in altissimo, including more than 2^
octaves; and several additional high notes may be
clearly produced by a skilful performer. But the chief
ambition of the violinist who aspires to be useful as a
member of an orchestra, should be to play the leading
air, or soprano part, with truth, steadiness, and flowing
clearness of tone, united with precision in time.

The same instrument, when employed to sustain the
second treble part, is called the second violin. In this
part, the lower tones of the instrument are chiefly em-
ployed; and as this part is not so prominent as the
leading strain, the second violin is sometimes under-
rated with regard to its importance. It does not often
require the brilliant execution of the first violin ; but
steadiness and correctness of time and tone are de-
manded in this, as in every part of concerted music.

The tenor or viola is another stringed instrument
made precisely like the violin, but larger in all its
parts, and consequently having a lower register of
noteE. Its usual compass extends from the bass C to the

765

CHAMBKIUrS nrrOBUATION VOR TBI PEOPLE.

Irable C. S«r«nkl higher notM may be added. It thui
»pp«an that the viola bean to the violin the lame rela-
tion which the tenor roioe bean to tho tnble or lonrano.
Thii valuable imtruinent if too much neglected; fur
there are no other jiutrunienti which can adcquatolv
luppi/ itt place in iiiitainiii^ the tenor part. Though
in choruiei, and lacred inuiic generally, it leldoni de-
niandi br!''''\nt execution, the due management of iti
itringf ires judgment and tatte, a» it ii apt to

prodii' '<al tone*. To avoid these, the upper stringi
ehoulu played itopped, or in other wordi, tlie notei
D and A abould leldom be given on the open itringi.

Another noble initrument of tho violin olais ii the
violoneello, or bast-viol, of which the register extendi
commonly from double C to 1) in ait, of the bate.
Several higher notes may be added. As the violin is
the rival of the soprano voice, the violoncello may be
regarded as capable of making the nearest approacn to
tho powen of a fine basH voice.

The eontra-bauo, or doiible-basi-Tiol, is the largest
instrument of the violin class, and is employed to pro-
duce a bass part an octave below the violoncello.
For this purpose the instrument ii* provided with the
thiclcest strings employed in music, wnich are tuned in
fuurtlis. The lowest string is tuned to A, the second
to U, and the highest to U.

Tlie above-mentioned instruments are the onlv truly
pliable, and, indeed, perfect instruments which have
been invented. As the stopping of their strings, in
order to produce the various tones, is not regulated by
any mechanical contrivance, but depends purely on the
mind of the performer, the ideas of tones (which are
formed in the mind of a musician with far greater
purity and precision than can be expressed by any
mechanical process) can bo at once interpreted on the
pliant strings of the violin and its fellow-instruments.
To explain this important advantage more clearly, it
must be observed that, though the ordinary nmsical
scale, as represented by the key-board of the organ or
pianoforte, contains only tones and semitones, the mind
can think of qxiarter-tones, and even demands their
U!ie, in order to realise pure ideas both in melody and
harmony. But these quarter-tones can be produced
truly only upon stringed instruments of the violin
class. This distinction of tones must not be regarded
as too finely-drawn ; for it is one which, by the use of a
little argument, might be made plain to every one
possessing the faculty styled an ' ear for music'

These observations may suggest the remark, that the
multiplication of imperfect instruments has not aided
the progress of pure music; and we may venture to add,
that if all the array of wooden and brass tubes, and
even the key -board instruments, the stately organ
and the convenient pianoforte, were swept away, leav-
ing behind only the five true stringed instruments
already described, then, though we should be deprived
of many particular effects and varieties of quality in
tone, though we should (happily) lose all the grand
efTccts of noise, so often presented to the public as sub-
stitutes for music, still no essential part of melody or
harmony would be lost. Every chord and passage of
harmony might be produced by the four distinct voices
and their corresponding stringed instruments. Before
we notice other instruments, we must remark that the
first care of every Choral or Harmonic Society, next to
that of procuring treble, contralto, tenor, and bass
voices, should be to find able performers on violins,
violas, and violoncellos. Other instruments should be
regarded as subsidiary.

The sound of the violin is produced, as we have seen,
by the vibration of a string, aided by a shell or sound-
ing-board. The most important among other means of
producing musical tones, are the vibrations of air in
tubes, excited either by a peculiar action of the lips,
as in performance on the flute; or by a reed, as in the
mouthpiece of the clarionet; or by the trumpet mouth-
piece, used for all brass instruments. All the wind
instruments, consisting of tubes formed of wood or
metal, may be divided (like the violin and its asso-
766

ciatea) into four olaiMe, according to their reUtloni to
the four voices. We may, in the first place, briefly
notice the wind instruments made of wood : —

Among the treble instruments of this class, the da.
rionet may perhaps claim the flnt notice; for though
its crude tone, when not subdued by the performer's
taste and skill, is very unpleasant, yet when duly
governed, the same vibrating reed may produce tones
which blend well with the human voice. The cla-
rionet is composed of a straight wooden tube, with
holes or ventages, to be stopped by the fingers, and also
thirteen keys. Its register is extensive, reaching from
the low tenor E to C in alltMimo s thus comprising nearly
four octaves, with all their semitones. When well
managed, it gives a firm and strong support to treble
voices, and may even take tho place of the violin ; but
when in the hands of a vulgar performer, it produces
the well-known efiects so often heard with naiu by
musical ean in the village churches of England,

The hautboy, or oboe, is another reed instrument of
the treble class, the sounds of which are produced by a
reed difl!ering in form from the reed used in the cla-
rionet. Its register extends from the middle C to C in
all. Handel had such an appreciation of the hautboy,
that he not only employed it generally to aid the treble
voices in his choruses, but also wrote concertos to ox-
hibit its powers.

'I'he Jlute is a wind-instrument without a reed, and
its tones are produced, like those of the pan-pipet, by
the lips of the performer injecting air, with various
degrees of force, through the embouchwe. The vibra-
tions are regulated by six ventages, stopped by the
fingers, and eight keys. The flute gamut contains moro
than 2^ octaves, extending from tne middle C to A in
altiuimo, and its chief merit as an orchestral instrument
consists in the fluency and brilliancy of its higher notes.
The lower notes of its register, from middle C to in alt.,
have a pleasing quality of tone, blend well with female
or soprano voices, and are emploved with good ett'cct
in solo execution and duets with the pianoforte; but in
the orchestra these lower flute-notes are of little use,
as their power is much inferior to that of the violin
or clarionet. It should be observed that two flutes
taking the part in alt. are sufficient to accompany
a very powerful orchestra.

The oetave-flute, the Ji/e, and the piccolo, are instru-
ments like the concert-flute, but of a smaller calibre,
and are used chiefly in dance-music and military bands.
The flageolet, which produces shrill sounds like a whistle,
is also used in light secular music. All those small in-
struments of the flute order may be regarded as rather
decorative than essential in the orchestra, though in
waltzes, quadrilles, and some parts of symphonies, they
produce good and lively contrasts with the tones of
lower instruments.

The same wind-instruments formed of wood, when
taking a second-treble or contralto part, are termed
respectively second -Jlule, second -clarionet, or srcmd-
hautboy. It may perhaps be regarded as a defect
in the modern orchestra that (excepting the bassvvti)
we have hardly one tenor instrument in wood to ac-
company the tones of the clarionet. The tenoroon, a
wood instrument played with a reed, is seldom em-
ployed. The bassoon, a larger reed-instrument, has a
very extensive register, descending to double B flat in
the bass clef, and rising into the contralto scale. It
may therefore be employed to accompany and assist
either tenor or bass voices, with which its tones blend
remarkably well. As it possesses correctness of intona-
tion and versatility in execution, it may justly be
esteemed as one of the most useful instruments in the
orchestra.

The most powerful wind-instruments, including the
bugle, the cornopean or comet-ii-piston, the trumpet,
the Sax-horn, the French-horn, the trombone, the bass-
horn, and the ophicleide, are made of brass, and are
chiefly used in military bands. In the orchestra these
instruments must be employed with refined taste and
discretion, as, when coarsely played, they overpower

VOICES AND MUSICAL INBTRUMKNTS.

tlio lounili Af the more delicate initrunienti to which
they ahould give Mtiitance in forte piiiMgef. The
bugU, like all the initruinenti of thii claM, produces
iti loundi by ineani of a trumpet mouthpiece, through
which a current of air is thrown into n metal tube,
increaiing in diameter until it openi at the end in the
ibape of a bell. The bugle hai a treble icalo, and
nroducei, eipeuially in the open air, clear, ihrill, mid
lively tone*. Dut lately, it haa been in a great nieaiure
luperteded by the uio of another brass instrument, in
lome reipecti superior— the cornopean, or oorntt-H-
piiton, which combines the qualities of the bugle and
the trumpet. Its tones are regulated by thu use of
three valves; and its scale, including the semitones,
extends from the tenor F sharp to C iii alt,, including
about two and a-half octaves. Music for the corno-
pean is generally written in the key of C, or F, or
O; and transposition into the other keys is easily
effected by the use of several oruokn, or additional
joints, which alter the depth of tone. Thus music
written in C, when played with the F crock, is in the
key of F. When employing its lower tones, the corno-
pean may take a contralto part, and is then styled the
ttcond comet or cornopean.

The tones of the trumpet are well known, as they are
very powerful. Its powers of melody are now extended
by the use of crooks, keys, and valves; but originally
it was an instrument of the most simide kind, consist-
ing of a tube of metal (or evon a cow's horn) furnished
with a mouthpiece for the compression of the blast of
air. In the modem orchestra, the improved trumpet
is very effectively used to accompany songs of a bold
or martial character, and in the loud and triumphal
parts of grand symphonies.

To sustain that important middle part, the tetter, no
brass or wind instrument is so effective and pleasing
as the Frmeh-hom, or conio. It is the most mellow
of all brass tubes, and is especially useful in the quality
of its long-drawn and well-sustained tones. In com-
pass it descends an octave below that of the trumpet.
As its modulations are chiefly produced and governed
by the lip, guided by the ear of the porfornior, no
amateur can hope to excel on this instrument unless
he possesses a very correct appreciation of musical in-
tervals; or, in common language, ' a good ear for music'
In its construction the corno consists of a long tube of
brass, coiled in a circular form, and gradually increas-
ing in diameter from the mouthpiece to the end of the
tube, which opens widely like a bell. The key or pitch
of the hom may be changed by the use of fivo crooks,
or additional pieces of brass tube, fitting in the smaller
end of the instrument. Its tones are also modulated
in flats and sharps by the insertion of the performer's
hand into the bell or opening of the tube. Music for
French-horns is generally written in the natural scale of
C, without signatures of flats and sharps; and its tones
are adjusted, by the use of crooks, to the keys in which
other instrumental parts are written. The como docs
not excel in rapid execution, though it has been some-
times successfully used as a solo instrument. We may
here mention some improved brass instmments called
Sax-horns, made in various sizes, and possessing various
registers of notes ; these have been used in harmony
very effectively, especially by the ' Distin Family.'

The trombone, or the sackbut of ancient tinies, is a
very powerful instrument, and may bo described as a
trumpet, the tones of which are regulated by a tube of
brass sliding within another, so as to shorten or lengthen
the column of air. An instrument made on this prin-
ciple was discovered among the remains of Pompeii. It
is now made in three sizes, and is termed respectively
an alto, a tenor, or a bass trombone. The last-mentioned,
having the longest tube and the most extensive slide,
has a register of notes extending from double C to the
tenor G, including all the semitones. The scale of the
tenor trombone extends froni double F sharp to the
treble C, while that of the alto trombone reaches from
the tenor F to the treble F. The trombone, possessing
the quality of the trumpet, but in a lower register, is

one of the most effective Instrumenli in a military
band ; but In the orchestra, or when employed in sacred
music, it must be used with discretion and reserve.

The ophicltide Is another very powerful bass in»tru>
ment, but possesses a tine mellowness nf tone, and may
be played with a pleasing softness of expression, so as
to blend well with both wind a.id string instruments.
The variety of its tones Is produced by the use of keys|
its register Is extensive; and when made in a smaller
size tnan that used for the bass, it produces Arm and
mellow tones in the tenor scale. The old instrument
called a serpen! has been in a great measure superseded
by the ophicleide; but still there is something iu the
tone of the serpent which is suitable to sustain a firm
bass, or double bass part iu slow and solenm nmsio.

The instruments which have thus been briefly de*
scribed constitute the principal parts of a modem
orchestra, and by blending or employing in contrast
and harmony their various tones in various proportions,
the composer produces the effects which are analogous
to the powers of colour in painting. Hut all the in-
struments named are by no means necessary in fomiing
a little band to accompany the performances of a choral
society of moderate power. Two violins, or a clarionet
judiciously played, may guide and assist the treble
voices; second violins, or (if these cannot be obtained)
a second clarionet, may help the second treble or con-
tralto voices, and we may also observe that the upper
strings of the viola may be used for the same purpose ;
but this important instrument is chiefly useful in sus-
taining a steady tenor part. Violoncellos, and a double
bass (or violorto), will give the best support to bass
voices. If wind instruments are added to the band, a
flute may give relief and brilliancy by taking the part
in all. in choruses and full passages; a bassoon may
support either the tenor or the bass, or play a mixture
of both these parts suited to the capacity of the in-
strument; and if more instrumental power is required,
the comet, the como, and the ophicleide (or, iu loud
passages, the trombones) may be employed.

The above instruments (excepting the violin class)
do not severally produce chords. Each plays only one
part. We may now give some brief account of instru-
ments of harmonp, upon which chords or full scores
may be played. Among these the organ justly claims
the first place. Though it has been styled * the king of
instruments,' it is more properly described as a full
orchestra of wind instruments, all supplied with wind
from a pair of bellows, and placed under the control of
one performer. This vast machine of music has no
necessary restriction of scalo. Its compass may extend
from the lowest to the highest musical note appreciable
by the human ear. The deepest tones produced by
the pedal-pipes have been compared to ' hannonious
thunder,' while the highest notes of the smallest me-
tallic stops hare the shrillness of a canary's whistling.
The organ at Haarlem contains, it is said, 5000 pipes;
that in the new church in Amsterdam has 52 whole
stops. The immense powers of the organ in York
Minster, and that in the Town-Hall of Birmingham,
are generally known. The mechanical means by which
such an extensive instrument is brought under the
command of the hands and feet of one performer aro
rather complicated, but consist of the following prin-
cipal parts: — 1. A series of stops; 2. A wind-chest;
3. Bellows; 4. Valves and levers to open or close the
pipes; and 5. The key-board. Each slop consists of a
row of pipes answering to the whole gamut or register
of the organ, so that a composition may bo performed
upon one complete stop. But to produce the sound of
many instruments, several stops are employed simul-
taneously. Of these the most important are the open
diapason, the stopt diapason, the principal, and the//-
teenth. When these stops are drawn, the melody and har-
mony produced are distributed through three octaves.

Other stops are named respectively the sesquialter,
the cornet, the trumpet, the bassoon, the JliUe, the Cre-
mona; indeed the number of stops, like that of instru-
ments in an orchestra, may be increased at pleasure.

767

CIIAMBBIUrS UriORlfATIOir FOB THI PKOPLC

Whin a i1IJ« U wllh(lr»wn, lo m to open anv stop to
tilt (Uit ol' »ir (torn th« wind-«liMt, timt itop U mI<1 to
h« (iraKiN. It ni»7 b« oloMd at any iiioiiiant by tb«
liand or th« foot of th« pUy«r; i»Je«d. the font o*n,
with » touch on » p«<Ib1, biiiic into action, or reduce to
•il*nce, in » inomeiit wvaral nmi of pl|NM equal in
poirtr to a largo orcheitra. The kejr-buard of a flnt-
claM organ ii divided into three conipartnienti. Of
theee the ioweit command! a lerie* o( atopi, havinc
generally a toft quality of tone, and collectively ntyled
the ekoir nrgau ; the middle range of keyi couimnndi
the niott powerful itont in the great oryan ; while the
third part of the key-board conimandi the iwtU onjan
(a teriei of itopt encloied, at in a bos or cupboard, with
lidot otiening or cluiing at the will of the performer, to
•u to incroait or dinimiih
gradually the volume of
Bound). The nioit cnpa-

ciout pipet in the nr^'im
nro commanded by the pe-
<lali played by the feet.
To ihow the extent of the
loundt commanded by the
handt and feet of an or-
Knnitt, we may give the
Ibllowing chord : —

ItlKht hand. J

Left hnnd.

-e*-

I'ulul <k>p|ilu.
To finil the number of diitinrt iiittrumenta or pip«a
which aru ipeaking when thli chord it nlaycil, we have
limply to multiply the number of the notes in the
chord by the number of drawn itopi. That if thirty
full itopt are drawn, the number of ipvaking-jtipes will
Ih) 270, or equal to thii number of distinct initrumentt.
The * dittinguisbing merit of the org<ui it iti power to
form and prolong the fullest and ntoit artificial har-
moniet.' Vet its grandeur and vatt compait uf toiiei
mutt not lead ui to neglect iti defuctt. It it not a
perfect inttrumeiit : it cannot accommodate itielf to
every style of music; but, like all other im|)erfect in-
Btruiiients, reqtiires music to be purposely adapted to
its construction. As it cannot impart to melwly the
variety and delicacy of expression found in the human
Voice and the violin, it depends for interest on the bold-
ness and precision of its modulations in harmony. A
good composer for tho organ must therefore have an
extensive command over the resources of modulation,
iiiid especially in the/«^u« style. The concertos and
fugues of Handel, tome pieces by Mendelssohn, but,
nbove all, the fugues of Sebastian Uacb, are the finci
specimens of organ music. The last may indeed be
regarded at the most elaborate modulatiuni of har-
rnony^ which musical genius has produced, and the
organist who can fairly execute them may justly claim
the highest rank in his profession.

The piatiqforle is another instrument of harmony,
having an extensive compaai, and serving at a very
convenient ^ubttitute for a imall orchestra. It may
bo regarded a^ he most characteristic instrument of
modern timea, mA its peculiarities have modified the
style of many musicr.l compositions. Like the harpxi-
chord, it produces tone* by the vibrations of wires; but
in the harpsichord t!ie wires were vibrated by » quill :
in the pianoforte the wires are struck by a hammer
with a surface of leather or felt; und as the force of the
blow can be moderated by the touch of the finger on
the key-board, the performer hat a command ovtr
various degrees of force or delicacy of expression. In
this respect the p>'>nofb-'e (a (Jerman invention in 1766)
is far superior to the oK'-fathiooed harpsichord, which
is now very seldom sec-n, The same lever which im-
pels the hammer againit :h<» string, raitet at the tame
moment a damper from ^'k-. < ;->per surface o: the wire,
so as to allow free vibra'.toi , .;>id in--.>adiately when
the finpr is lifted fii.u. a li-^y, t^ie -* ■ iper fall< pon
the string commanded by 'Hat ki;. luid *topii it& vibra-
tion, so that its sound duis no. lu- gle with that (.: the
next note struck, whidi tviuld o< i\ produce cou.usion
instead of harmony. U .1 impuitant to observe that,
in a greut number of instruments (especially those of
the upright kiud, called cottage pianofortes), the action
768

of the dampen It defective, and ooniequtntiv (ho mmld
priMluocd is coufuswi. I'he great iiuparfeuiiuii ■>! nil
piaiioforttt Is their incapability of sustaining unbrul.en
sounds beyond a few saooiids.

In slow and sacred music the pianoforte fails; and as
it requires a constant pern.ision of its wires to sustain
its full tonat, iti powers rtre most advantageously ilii-
plaved in rapid and hr.lliant ooin|Misitiona, such us
walties, quadrilles, varliirloiis of melodies, and sonator.
iieethoven and Meiidtlssuhn produced toiiia of the muitt
beautiful and clHssiral music for thia inatruineiit.
Other players and coniiKMers hiive displayed its powers
in a style which has been lernird ' wonder play in;;,'
and which may l>e compared with ' trick-play'i.^' uii
the violin. Playing elaborate and rapid pastit^M in
octaves, ami distriliutiiig chords, in the arpeggio stylo,
over the full extent of the key-board (which contains
6j octnvcB),are two of the most brilliant manicuvrus of
tho modern school. In concert with the flute, the violin,
and the violoncello, the pianoforte is exceedingly effet-
tive and pleasing, as its chords and brilliant arpeggios
make a good contrast with the sustained tones of the
other instruments.

The /larmn/iiiim, another instrument with a key-
board, capable of producing full harmonies, yields its
tones by the pressure of wind upon tongues made of
metal in various sixes. It is the nearest approach to
solving the problem how to produce organ-tones from a
small and portable instrument; but the quality of its
tones cannot be compared, for mellowness and varit.cy,
with tho blende<l tones of organ-pipes. The cuncr/tdu
and the aocorilion are small initruiiieiits producing
tones by the vibrationi of metallic tongues, liku thoau
employed in the harmonium.

The hurp is an ancient stringed instruiin nt, and in
its modern form is sometimes effectively displayed in
solo performance, though iti capabilitiet are ^rt^atly
inferior to thote of the pianoforte. Its ttringt are kept
in vibration by tho fingert of the performer, withoiii-.
tho use of a key-buurd, and each string produces only
one distinct note. The tfuilar — which, in its simplest
form, is also an ancient instrument — bat a neck with
several stops oxfreU which produce several notes from
one string. It has now six strings, and commands a
rnT '.' of three octave*; but though it it a pleasing ac-
rui <paniment to a solo treble voice, it it a very feeble
instrument, at itt tones are transient, and it can lio
playci well only in a few keys. The ancient lyre and
the lutt were in some respects like the guitar. The
paatlery and the dulcimer were comparatively rude in-
struments, producing tones from wires, like those in u
pianoforte, but having no dampen, and consequently
blending tonei in a confused ityle, very offentivo to a
cultivated musical ear.

Bell*, cymbals, trianglei, and even rattling bone*, are
used to mark tho time, and odd to the effect of some
light varieties of music. The gong and the drum are
employed for the same purposes, chiefly in military
music. The (om-<om, a large, rudely-constructed drum,
it ttill a favourite instrument of music (or rather of
noise) among savage tribes. 1 .iir<:i' btll' are still
favourite iiistrumeuts among .uu'iy -ui^ia amateurs
posai Msing primitive musical t'Mti; [ft * ' v may be
commended rather for the •■ jij;, fii;,'k':'ui excrclne
which they afford to the riii^,.:.>, ilitm tor any truly
musical pleasures which they give to hearers.

In conclusion, we may again observe that only a few
of the instruments noticed in this article are really
necessary for the production of good instrumental, or
thn accompaniment of choral music. The sensuous
effect of music depends partly on fulness and quality
of tone; while music, in its more intellectual sense,
depends upon the relations of various intervals in
sounds arranged in melody and harmony. With four
or five well-trained voices, especially when they aro
supported by the three principal stringed instruiueiita
— the violin, the viola, and the violoucello—vie are able
to produce, not the loudest, but the most beautiful and
classical music of the best composers.

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

ITndiii thit head we propoio to nffor a (vw lAy'ictti cnn- 1
iscted with lloiliokrciiiii^ In |;aii«ri«l referring >■• tlie I
;holc*, furiiUhliiK, and mana)(atiiflii if i| velllnK^ . fh''
cleaning of furniture Hiid appivrel; ^hc A "''uctlou ul
voriuin; precaution! ai to fire and watur; the pre|i*ra- |
tioii of iroall domeitic maiiut'aclnrRit; and laii'v, ' '
the dutlei of the dreiiing-roont and t<' 'ot.

CHOICE AND PURNIHIIINll.

Chotee n^ a //on**.— There are certain important
point! on which you ehould obtain aatitfactnrjr infurma-
tion ill nialiiiif; clioice of n houio. Fhit, take care
that it ii not damp. Dainpneii may ariio from icvcral
cauirii but iinpertect draiiia)(o, and iv too cloio contact
of th' flo< ri with the ground, are the principal. When
H ht de ii damp in any part, no matter from what
<'"JK i\, ia advinable by all ineana to aroid it, fur it
11J..V , I'uce the moat pornicioua etfecti on the health
o( ) u I' family. Steond, aee that the houae has a free
open I qwaure for freah air, and, if oil other circum-
atiuicea suit, prefer that which haa an expoauro to the
aouth, and puMcaaei the beneficial influence of the aun'a
raya, A houae with a pleoaant auiithem expoaure en-
jovi % climate leveral degrees warmer than a huuae
which is not so favourably aituated. In general, too
little attention is paid to this circumstance, though it
has been proved in the clearest manner that mere aun-
liglit, without reference to heat or air, oxerciaca a most
powerful influence on the health and energy of the
nuinan frame. Third, ascertain if there be a plentiful
supply of good water in the premises, and if there be
propiT means at hand for drying and bleaching clothes.
Fourth, learn whether the vents go well, and do not
smoke. The inquiriea you may make in reference to
freedom from vermin, exposure to public nuisances,
respectability of neighbourhood, and other particulars,
are left to your own judgment.

FumUhtng. — When you dcaign to furniah a house,
take care to set out on a right principle in the selection
of articles. It is essential, for the salce of neatness, and
for a pleasing effect to the eye, that there should bo n
harmony of colours, and also a similarity of style in the
main articles of furniture. Therefore, if you do not
exercise » little taste and judgment in your fir»t selec-
tions, you may find that you have committed a blunder
which will cost you ntuch subsequent annoyance. For
example, let the tints of the carpet, of the paper or
paint of the walls, and of the window-curtains, be all
in harmony in each room — that is, either poaseaa a
general resemblance of colour, or various colours in
pleasing contrast and harmony with each other. If the
colour of your curtains be scarlet, and the colour of
your walls or carpet blue, a most inharmonious and
unpleasing ettvct will be produced ; but brown and
green, or greer and gold, will bo in harmony, and may
therefore bu placed together. Carpets being the moat
expensive articles, it is safest to buy them first, and
then to let their colour lead the tone and style of cur-
tains, paper-hangings, chair-covers, hearth-rugs, and
all other articles. It is also a good economical plan to
buy CArt>*t< of the same pattern for several rooms, be-
cause, II tbv (xrent of removal to a house with ditt'erent-
sized ajvuttttenth, a piece of one carpet may be taken
to eke out wtoliior. It is also of prime importance to
have the p*tternii In keeping with the size and style of the
apartments; f<<t nulhing looks so patchwork and out of
placr u Harge mivX nhnwy patterns in small old-fashioned
rooiiK- it.i''hin>: ^i iii»an aa imltry fabrics in large mo-
dern aprartmcnta. 'I hts rem«ik is alike appliciiblo to
every, article of furnishing, »iid demands, on the part
of the housekeeper, the stn< lust attention. Urilliant
gaseliers, mirrors, panellings, puiiur-hangings, and the
No. !»!».

like, are admiaslble only into-suitabla apartmonta; and
the vulgar-rioh will often be disappointed to find that
' fi^w well-chiiiien and properly-arranged articles pro-
III' t much more elegant effect than all their lavish,
bec»uii< -tolea* and iiihurmoniona ditjilay.

Heapt i»ng the iiukixrial of < .irpctting, matting,
lioorolotlic, and the likif, the In vour iiicans can
aflbrd win ultimataly be found v >o the cheapeat.
There is alv»»ys a great deal of ahowi '■"♦ trn>hy ma-
terial in the niitl'' '. which, from its < imesH, is apt
to allure the incxp nenr«!<l; a few moii. ' wear, how-
ever, 'i'^troys not only its appearance, \i rendei ■ it
next I -eless. Ci. ' >n mattingn, carpetiii^ . and the
like, cui ,ever c«nii. e with a genuine woollen faliri<~',
an 1 thee ier and lii trier a woolien fabric, the nii';
likely is '> give H.itisfactinn. In purchasing oil
cloth, see t the colours are of a durable kiiul, and
that they i. o laid on iitout, close canvas. (i<'naiiie
coir and inanilla are stroti);, durable niateri. for
matting, well adapted fori- ue lobbies and pii- I's.
IJressod skins — pi ii or 'l< I — make a very cl< liiit
and comfortable II \ but Ik y reipiire to be kept Iry;
and if not thorns lily \ repiired, thn greaxi! wl 'h
exudes from thciu will irrumediably destroy the cr.i ut
on which they are Iniil.

"" V'hen you are Imrgaini' ' fur

r wooden articles of , fins

'V that they must be of a solid

Veneering is only tolerable

not to be subjcrted to much

"<s, i> practice has begun of

use, such as chuirs and

Talilet, Chairt, Vi
tables, chairs, and i r

?|UAlity, take care to u, > '
abric, and not veneere't
ill a few articles which ;i
tear and wear ; neverthel
veneering articles 'i dai

tables, and consequt itly tli v are soon destroyed. This
practice, we are suri^ to sn^ is done in cases where the
highest price is paid for >' 'id articles, and we men-
tion the circumstance to put <'<\i on your guard. Exa-
mine closely the back and h t-frames of every maho-
gany chair, and reject it if it > veneered. In the cano
of veneered articles, as cabi cts, chests of drawers,
wardrobes, sideboards, and the ke, see that the veneers
be laid on a substantial well-i" isoned ground; if not,
the veneering is sure to warn nd blister after a few
months' exposure to the ordiir y heat of a dwelling-
house. In ordering solas, chaii , and mattresses, you
should also take care to bargaii. for genuine hair stuf-
fing, for in many instances the stuiiing is composed of
what is technically calluil pob, or » comiiosition of tow,
wool, and other kinds of rubbisl Likewise the hair
should be well baked and prepare I. Wo have seen a
hair sofa, for which the highest pnoe was paid, swarm-
ing with a species of louse, shori ly after being sent
home from the upholsterer's, in • onsequenco of the
animal substance about the hair ii< t having been pro-
perly dried by baking. In every case you will be safer
to pay a fair price to a respectable tradesman, than to
purchase from the self-stvled ' cheap warehouses;' for
though the articles may be of elegant enough designs,
and look as brilliant as French polish can make them,
yet in a few years they will become warjied, disjointed,
and rickotty.

Fire Orates. — In choosing fire-grates or stoves for
your rooms, do not buy those which have burnished
steel fronts, as they require a considerable degree of
care ji cleaning, and are very liable to rust during
sumraor when not in use. The best and neatest, as
well as the cheapest grates, are those which are made
of cast-iron, and of an ornamental pattern. Let the
grates which you select be small or of moderate size in
the fireplace. Wide, open grates, by admitting cold
air into the chimney, are exceedingly liable to smoke.
Kinnaird and Uegister-grates, with fire-brick or cast-
iron backs, and with fronts of cast-iron ground smooth,

769

i I

GHAMBEBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

ore now most generally souRht after; and when neatly
construotPil, arc fit for all ordinary purposes. The
brilliant grate-fronts exhibited in the windows of the
ironmongers arc fit only for the houses of the wealthy,
who have plenty of servants to keep theni in order.
Avoid the grates with low - placed bars ind open
fenders, unless your house is specially constructed for
them, as they are apt to cause accidents by fire. In
purchasing tire-irons, choose those of solid -wrought
iron or steel ; have nothing to do with any combination
of brass and steel, as they are sure to become loose
and rickctty after a few months' use.

J/aiilirarc — CutUn/.- l\e (larticular in your choice
of hardware anil cutlery, as there is now no branch
of Ilritinli manufivcturos in which there is greater
dec(^l)tion and knavery practised. There are hundreds
of worksliops in which these articles are made only for
'ciieap sales,' and 'sales by auction;' and in such
cases only the most wortliless materials are made use
of. Prefer articles which are cast or hammered to those
that are struck up; and that your cutlery has a

full lund ring, and is su ' .'iently elastic to resist all
onlii,.../ pressure. Avoid ihe purchase of fantastic
shapes ami patterns, not only from the difficulty of
niatdiing any article in the event of loss or breakage,
but frnm motives of good taste.

J'lale. — Whatever silver articles you require, buy
tlicm of a genuine kind, or of sterling silver plate,
which always keeps its value, however old and worn it
nuiy become. Avoid all plated goods, for the plating
is not long in wearing off, and then the article is value-
less. \ tarnished plate, fork, spoon, or salver, has an
exi-essivel/ mean appearance. In fact the only toler-
able ))lati'ng is that of electro-plating on steel, and
even that, substantial as it appears, is far froni being
unobjectionable. If you find it inconvenient to pur-
chase sterling silver plate, your most economical plan,
consistent with elegance of appearance, will be to pur-
chase a few articles of (iermaii silver or albata, which
closely resembles sterling silver in texture and colour; it
is not just so white as sterling silver, but the difference
is not noticed, unless a close comparison be made. In
hardness and durability, it is much superior to sterling
silver, and its price is in some cases only about a tenth
of what genuine plate would cost. German silver is
now manufactured to a large extent in Kngland, and is
niailo into spoons, forks, ladles, teapots, salvers, dish-
covers, anil all other articles for the table. It is not
probable that (lennan silver will ever be purchased to
a large extent in order to supersede the sterling article,
because it possesses no intrinsic value like bullion, but
it forms a great stretch in advance of plated or Britan-
nia metal goods, and is likely to come into extensive
use. The articles in Britannia metal were once of a
durable fabric, but they are so no longer; their good
character is gone, and they should on no account be
purcinist'd by an economical luiusewife. A teaiwt, for
instance, of that metal, for common use, and costing six
or eiuht shillings, will probably not last twelve nu)nth8,
while a teapot of (ierman silver, costing from eighteen
to forty shillings, will last for fifty years. The (ierman
silver article is tlius, in the long-run, by far the chei icr
of tlie two, inde))endent of all considerations as to
elegance of appearance.

(fililinr/. — ( )rdor all the gilding of your picture -frames
and other articles to be done in oil. Oil-gilding is not
susceptible of flatting and burnishing like water-gild-
ing, but it is infinitely more durable. You may wash
an oil-gilt frame without injuring it, whereas one that
is water-gilt cannot be cleaned, and is soon tarnished.
We never knew a gilder who world gild in oil unless it
was expressly insisted upon.

Kuidicnwarc and China. — In purchasing gets of
earthenware articles for the table, also take care to set
out on a right plan. .Select that set which, in case of
breakage, can at all times, and in all places, be easily
matched. If y<iu buy a set of table-ware which is pecu-
liar or rare in its jiattern, and afterwards break seve-
ral pieces, you nmy be put to a very great degree of
770

trouble, or oven find it impossible, to restore them.
Thus a neculiar set of earthenware or china, however
beautiful and cheap, may ultimately prove a source of
vexation and considerable expense.

Glass and Crystal. — Articles of this kind are now
fabricated in the most elegant shapes and designs, and
at extremely moderate prices. There are two sorts in
the market — cut-glass, and glass moulded, so as to re-
semble cut patterns (see No. 21). The latter is cheap,
but by no means so elegant or durable as the former,
us it is only sound material which will stand the
polisher's wheel. Observe, in purchasing glass, that it
be well annealed, as otherwise, on the first exposure to
hot water, it will fly in pieces. In this respect cut-
glass is always preferable to that cast or moulded.

liaths and Foot-Warmers. — Few houses possess the
convenience of baths (see No. 30), but every one may
command the use of small movable bathing vessels for
the feet, or for infants. The best foot and leg baths
are those made of wood, or of well-tinned sheet iron ;
those of earthenware are exceedingly liable to break,
and, besides, are very expensive. There are various
kinds of close vessels for holding warm water, whicli
are used for producing warmth in bed. One of the
best articles of this nature which we have seen is a
vessel made of sheet tin. It measures twelve inches
in length and six inches in diameter, being round
like a bottle, with bulged -out rounded ends. At
one end there is a small brass screw cap, placed
over an orifice at which the water is admitted. This
cap being well screwed down, and a snniU leathern
washer being used to assist in the tightening, not a
drop of water will ooze out when the vessel is laid in
bed. With this simple apparatus, tied in a flannel
bag, the feet or any part of the body will be eft'ectu.illy
warmed either during illness or in the cold of winter.
Stoneware vessels, shaped so as to lie closely to the
feet, limbs, or chest, are now largely fabricated, and, if
well stoppered, have the advantage of retaining the
heat longer than vessels made of metal.

ORDER AND MANAGEMENT.

Ilousckeeping. — Every good housewife is expected to
keep a regular and continuous account of her income
and expenditure. This is indeed perhaps the most
essential m the routine of domestic duties, and she
must possess an ill-regulated mind, or have had an in-
sufficient education, who neglects it. When properly
set about, and methodically managed, there is little or
no trouble in keeping the household accounts. Some
housewives have one method, and some have anothei-.
Always presuming that we are addressing young house-
wives in the middle ranks of society, with whom fru-
gality is an object, wo beg to suggest the following
siin|)lc i)lan of keeping house accounts: — Procure a
small slate-book — that is, a little book composed of
three slates, bound in a plain cover. This, which you
write upon with a slate pencil, is your day-booh ; it is
always at hand for you to scroll down any note of out-
lay, and will keep several days' or a week's accounts at
a time. At any leisure moment, you carry the entries
of outlay from the slates to a small ruled paper-book,
which is your ledger. One page of this is devoted to
nmney received, and the opposite page to money paid
out. By doing this regularly, and comparing the entries
of sums received with the entries of sums expended, so
as to see that they square with each other, you will
find that you possess a complete record of family ex-
penses, satisfactory alike to yourself and to your hus-
band, shouhl he make any inquiry into the subject.
The keeping of an account of receipts and disburse-
ments, in this or any other convenient manner, is cal-
culated to have the most salutary and agreeable effects.
The temlency to over-expenditure, or living beyond
the means, is constantly checked, or at least you are
not deceived upon the subject, and in all likelihood
much future distress in circumstances is avoided.

In referring to housekeeping accounts, we must put
you on your guard against the very mischievous prac-

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

tico of Ijuyini; on credit, and running uj) bills with
traduaincn. If you cnn nt all avoid taking credit, do
BO. IJy paying for every article with ready money, you
will poBgesa two decided advantages — you get every-
thing cheaper aa you want it, and you can go anywhere
to seek out the best markets. Housewives who run up
bills, beyond weekly or monthly convenience, become
the slaves of tradesmen, and can possess no proper in-
dependence of principle or self-respect.

Servants. — The old practice of hiring domestic ser-
vants for six months at once is rapidly declining. Hoth
mistresses and servants find, by experience, that a bar-
gain for such a length of time very often produces dis-
agreements. It is best for all parties that the term
hired for should be only one month at a time, with one
month's notice for separation. IJy this plan a servant
can leave a place which does not please her without
any lengthened delay; and in the same way a mistress
can give a servant warning to quit at a short notice,
should it be found that she is unsuitable. In this man-
ner there is no vexatious obligation to keep together,
and a separation can always take place amicably. All
servants and mistresses who try this plan find it so
agreeable, that thoy never like to change it. Many
servants remain years in a place, though hired on the
understanding that it is only from month to month,
or, what is tho same thing, hired for no fixed period,
but just so long as both parties agree; and that, in the
event of any dissatisfaction, there shall be a week or a
month's warning given on either side. This practice
has been long common in London, and the sooner it
becomes universal the better.

It is a very old remark, that good mistresses make
good servants; and though not strictly correct in all
instances, there is, on the whole, much truth in it. A
good mistress endeavours to seek out and attach a good
servant to herself. She effects this attachment and
good-will by simply laying before the servant what is
to be her line of duties, or what is expected of her, and
then leaving her, undisturbed, to execute these duties
in a regular methodic manner. No servant likes to be
interfered with in her work, or to be called away from
one thing to do another; nevertheless, some mistresses
are not happy unless they are going in and out of the
kitchen, or bustling up and down the house, ordering
and counter-orderiiig, or in some other way worrying
the servant out of all patient endurance. Mistresses of
this tidgetty turn can hardly expect to keep good ser-
vants, should they be so fortunate as to procure them.
We advise the young housewife to commence on tho
wise plan of prescribing to her servants, in simple, plain
terms, the duties wiiich she expects they will daily and
regularly execute; and if the servants are unfit to take
advantage of this friendly and liberal arrangement,
and require to be continually urged and ' spoken to,' it
is better for both that there should be a separation.
Where two or more servants are engaged, it is abso-
lutely necessary that tho precise duties of each should
be expressly defined, in order to prevent disputes be-
tween them, and that the work of the house may be
duly performed.

As nuich misapprehension prevails, and some annoy-
ance has been experienced by parties, on the subject of
i/iiiiit/ characters tn servants, it may not bo without its
iiao to mention, in accordance with our best legal
authorities, that tho character to be given of a servant
must accord with the strict truth. If a false good cha-
racter be given, and the servant afterwards rob her
master or mistress, the person who gave such false cha-
racter is liable to an action, and to compensate for the
entire loss; and is also liable to punishment, in case
of false cliaracter, by the statute 3l! Geo. III. chap.
fUi. For the protection of masters and mistresses, it
has been legally decided that they are not obliged to
give a discharged servant any character, and "o action
is sustainable for refusing to do so. Where a servant
has proved unfaithful, tho safest and best course to
adopt is, fur the master or mistress to decline answering
any incjuirics on the subject.

CLEANING AND POLISniNO.

The best way to clean a house is to keep it clean by
a daily attention to small things, and not allow it to get
into such a state of dirtiness and disorder as to require
great and periodical cleanings. Some mistresses, and
also some sen-ants, seem to have an idea that a house
should undergo ' regular cleanings,' or great washing
and scrubbing matches, once every three or six months,
on which occasions the house is turned almost inside
out, and made most uncomfortable. All this is bad
economy, and indicates general slovenliness of habits.

Wooden FIootb, if kept in order by daily sweeping and
other small attentions, may be ett'ectually cleaned by
washing them with warm water and soap; but if spots
of grease are to be removed, the spots must previously
be taken out with fuUers'-earth. Ink spots may be
discharged with spirits of salt. Some mistresses make
a practice of ordering the iloors of bedrooms to be fre-
quently washed. We wish to guard both mistresses
and servants against this practice. It is most dangerous
to the health of the person who occupies the bedroom
to wash or scour it, unless the weather be very fine or
warm, in order to allow the window to be opened for
thoroughly drying the room before night. Tho utmost
that should be done, except in favourable circumstances,
is to pass a damp mop lightly over the fioor.

Carpds. — Ordinary Kidderminster carpets can only
be cleaned by shaking and beating; if cleaned by means
of washing, they become so soft, as to be speedily dirtied
again, and their appearance is spoiled. iSrussels carpets
may be cleaned as follows : — Take them up and shako
and beat them, so as to render them perfectly free from
dust. Have the fioor thoroughly scoured and dry, and
nail the carpet firmly down upon it. Take a pailful of
clean cold spring water, and put into it about three gills
of ox-gall. Take another pail with clean cold water
only. Now rub with a soft scrubbing-brush some of
the oxgall water on the carpet, which will raise a lather.
When a convenient - sized portion is done, wash the
lather ofl^ with a clean linen cloth dipped in the clean
water. Let this water be changed frequently. When
all the lather has disappeared, rub the part with a
clean dry cloth. After all is done, open the window, to
allow the carpet to dry. A carpet treated in this man-
ner will be greatly refreshed iu colour, particularly the
greens. It is very advisable, in laying down carpets at
first, to cover the floor beneath them (especially if an
old floor) with large sheets or webs of i)aper, so as to
prevent dust from rising between the boards. A carpet
lasts longer by adopting this precaution.

Oil-Cluths. — Oil or painted cloths should be laid only
on dry floors; if the floor be in the least degree damp,
the cloth will soon mildew and rot. Such cloths, laid
even in the driest situation, should be wetted as little
as possible. When to be cleaned, they should be wiped
with a wet cloth, and rubbed gently till dry. The
rubber should be frecjuently shaken, to free it from
sand or gritty particles, which irrecoverably injure the
lustre or varnish of the cloth.

Marble Hearths and Chimnetj -pieces may be cleaned
as follows : — Mix a gill of soap-lees, half a gill of tur-
pentine, and a bullock's gall, and make tliem into a
paste with pipeclay, which lay upon the marble, and
let it remain a day or two, then rub it ofl", and the
stains will have disappeared, unless they are of long
standing, when the paste nmst be again applied.
Polished marble requires careful treatment, as any
acid will destroy the polish. In general, warm water
and soap will be found the safest thing for cleaning
chimney-pieces of this description.

Walls of Houses. — The outer surfaces of walls, formed
of brick or sandstone, sometimes imbibe moisture from
the atmosphere, and this gives a dampness to the in-
terior. If it be found unsuitable to plaster, rough-cast,
or whitewash the outside, the damp may be greatly
prevented by painting the walls with a single coat of
oil-paint, which, by being light in colour, will give a
neat and clean effect. An ashlar or hewn front may

771

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOB THE FEOFLE.

be well prcRorveJ by a coating of hot linieed-oil, mixed
with a small proportion of colour, bo at to preserve the
natural hue of the stniie. For further iuforniation ou
the subject of wall-plasters, cements, and stuccoes, the
reader is referred to Vol. I., p. 333.

Walli qfJtoomt. — When walls of rooms or staircases
are to be painted in oil, let the paint be of the best
description. It is not unusual for inferior tradesmen
to use whiting, instead of white lead, as a pigment;
by this deception the paint will afterwards scarcely
endure washing. Supposing, however, tliat the paint
has been of the best kind, considerable care will be
required in cleaning it. The safest and most simple
plan is, to take a pail of hot water, and put into it as
much common yellow or soft soap as will raise a lather
or froth. Now wash the walls well with a flannel cloth
dipped ill this wat<.'r ; then wash this soapy water off
with clean flannel and dean warm water. Dry with a
clean linen cloth. Do all this equally, so as not to leave
smears, or parts better washed or wiped than others. If
soda or potash be added to the water, it destroys the
varnish or gloss of the oil-paint, anu gives it, the
appearance of flat-painting, or painting in distemper.

Paper-Hanging should be first dusted, and then
cleaned by a stale loaf of bread, with the crumb sur-
face cut smoothly, and gently rubbed, the dirty face
of the bread being cut away from time to time. The
imitative marble - paper, highly varnished, may be
washed with cold water and soap. Papier-machi, now
much used for mouldings and ornaments in rooms,
may be cleaned with soap and water,

Picture-Frames of varnished or French-polished wood
may be washed with soap and warm water, and sponge
or flannel. As already mentioned, frames which are
gilt in the ordinary manner, or 'water-gilt,' cannot
endure washing or rubbing; but if * oil-gilt,' they may
be washed with cold water and a soft brush.

Ivorg may be restored to its original whiteness by
cleaning it with n paste of burnt pumicestone and
water, and then placing it under glasses in the sun's
rays. Some attempt the use of diluted acids, but this
requires extreme ciiution and expertness.

Jirass inlaid Work is best cleaned as follows : — Mix
tripoli and linseed-oil, and dip into it a rubber of hat,
with which polish the work. If the wood be ebony or
rosewood, polish it with a little finely-powdered elder-
ashes; or make a paste of rottenstoue, a little starch,
sweet-oil, and oxalic acid, mixed with water. The
ornaments of a French clock are, however, best cleaned
with bread-crumb, carefully rubbed, so as not to spoil
the woodwork. Ormolu candlesticks and lamps may
be cleaned with soap and water. They will bear more
cleaning than lackered articles, which are spoiled by
frequent rubbing, or by acids, or strong alkalies.

Windows and Looking-Qlassct. — Dip a moistened rag
or flannel into indigo, fullers'-earth, ashes, or rotten-
stone, in impalpable powder, with which smear the
glass, and wipe off with a dry soft cloth. Powder-blue
or whiting, tied up in muslin, and dusted upon the
glass, and cleaned off with chamois leather, also gives
glass a fine polish. The spots in the silvering of old
looking-glosves are caused by damp at the back. The
Vauxhall plates are no longer prized, for the glass
made in the present day is whiter and better. Window-
panes may be made to resemble ground-glass by daubing
them with putty, or a brush with a little thin paste.

Brass and Copper are best cleaned with sweet-oil and
tripoli, powdered Bath-brick, rottetistone, or red brick-
dust, rubbed on with flannel, and polished with leather.
A strong solution of oxalic acid in water gives brass a
fine colour. Vitriol and spirits of salts soon make brass
and copper very brV/tit, hut they very soon tarnish, and
consequently require more frequent cleaning. A strong
lye of roche-alum and water will also improve brass.

Stove-Grales are cleaned with blaok-leod mixed with
turpentine, or with stale beer anu yellow soap, and
polished off. The finer lead is used dry, in lump or
powder. The bronzed work of stoves should be only
lightly brushed. Rottcnstone, or fine emery and sweet-
77-2

oil, is used for the bright work of stoves and polished
fire-irons; the higher the latter are polished, the less
likely are they to rust. To prevent rust in articles
not often used, rub them with sweet-oU, and dust over
them fine lime; or with the following mixture: — To
a quart of cold water add half a pound of quicklime;
let it stand until the top is clear, when pour off the
liquid, and stir up with it some olive-oil, until it be-
comes of a pasty consistence, when it should be rubbed
on the metal articles to be preserved. To fill cracks
in stove-backs, make a paste of wood-ashes, salt, and
water. To remove rust, mix tripoli, sulphur, and
sweet -oil, and clean the articles with it; or mix
boiled soft soap with emery No. 3, which will also dis-
charge the fire-marks from bright bars. Steel-work
may also be kept from rust by varnishing it with tur-
pentine in which is dissolved a small proportion of
India-rubber (caoutchouc). Polished fire-irons may
be best preserved from rust by being closely wrapped
up in strong brown paper.

Kitchen Vessels. — The crust on boilers and kettles,
arising from the hard water boiled in them, may be
prevented by keeping in the vessel a marble, or a po-
tato tied in a piece of linen. Tin-plate vessels are
cleanly and convenient, but unless dried after washing,
will soon rust in holes. Iron coal-scoops are liable to
rust from the damp of the coals. The tinning of
copper saucepans must be kept perfectly clean and
dry, in which case they may be used with safety.
Copper pans, if put away damp, or a boiling-copper,
if left wet, will become coated with poisonous crust,
or verdigris. Untinned copper or brass vessels, even
if scoured bright and dean, are always dangerous.
If made dishes be allowed to cool and stand for sonie
time in copper vessels, the articles will become poison-
ous. In the year 1037, a lady and her family, residing
in Paris, were poisoned by partaking of a stew which
had been allowed to stand and get cold in n copper
pan. A German saucepan is best for boiling milk in.
This is an iron saucepan, glazed with white earthen-
ware instead of being tinned, the glaze preventing its
tendency to burn. A stewpan made like it is also pre-
ferable to a copper pan, since simple washing keeps iu
sweet and clean. A method of glazing saucepans with
earthenware is now common in this country. Zinc
sieves are more easily kept clean than those made of
hair, will last longer, and not rust.

Dish-covers are cleaned with fine whiting and sweet
oil, and polished with dry whiting powder. Britan-
nia-metal teapots, &c. should be rubbed with sweet-oil
on flannel, then polished by the hand with rottenstone,
and next washed with soap and hot water, and finished
with wash-leather and whiting powder. Pewter is
scoured with fine white sand and a lye made with
wood-ashes, or soda and water. A useful paste for
tins, brasses, and the like, is composed of rottenstone,
soft soap, and oil of turpentine. The stone must be
powdered, and sifted through a muslin or hair-sieve;
mix with it us much soft soap as will bring it to the
consistency of putty; to about half a pound of this add
two ounces of oil of turpentine. It may be made up in
balls or put in gallipots; it will soon become hard, and
keep any length of time. The articles to be polished
should be first freed from grease and dirt; after which,
moisten a little of the paste with water, smear it over the
metal, then rub briskly with dry rag or wash-leather,
and it will soon bear a beautiful polish.

Knives are best cleaned by rubbing on a flat board,
on which is put finely-powdered brick-dust. Some re-
commend leather to be put on the board ; this may
prevent the knives from wearing, but it is apt to de-
prive them of an edge fit for cutting. Never put knives
in hot water, for that loosens the handles, and spoils
the temper of the steel. For simple cleaning after use,
wipe them only with a damp, and then with a dry
cloth. Machines for cleaning knives by the dozen are
common in hotels; but as they all act upon the prin-
ciple of rapid friction, they are by no means suited to
the economical wants of a household.

HotJsEHOLD Hm-rs.

laitipg. — When lampa are foul inside, they should
be cleaned with hot water and pearl-ash, and well
rinsed, and set by the fire to dry before the oil is again
put in. Spirit-lamps should be filled with great care,
lest the spirits take fire; and unless the spirits of wine
be pure, it will net burn. Naphtha, which is burnt in
some lamps, is so inflammable as to be dangerous.

Lamp-Olasaei. — If the lamp-glasses be ground, burnt
spots upon them cannot be removed ; but they may be
cleaned from the effects of smoke by washing with soap
and water, and then rubbed with a dry cloth. The
glasses should always be ground on the outside.

Furniture. — Mahogany furniture is always best
cleaned by continual rubbing ; and no ordinary stuff
that may be applied will compensate the want of this
requisite. Some furniture is what is called ' French
polished ;' but this French polish is an unguent pos-
sessed and applied only by cabinet-makers, and cannot
readily be had by housekeepers. In ordinary circum-
stances, therefore, the furniture must be well rubbed,
and with some easily-procurable material. The follow-
ing are the materials we suggest : — Take a gill and a-
half of unboiled linseed-oil, one gill of turpentine, and
a teaspoonful of pounded loaf-sugar. Shake all well
together, and rub a portion on the furniture with a
piece of flannel, and polish with a linen cloth.

An oil for darkening furniture may be made as
follows : — Mix in one pint of linseed-oil an ounce of
powdered rose-pink, to which add one ounce of alkanet
root, beaten in a metal mortar; let the mixture stand
in a warm place for a few days, when the substances
will have settled, and the oil, of n deep rich colour, may
be poured off for use : or mix one ounce of alkanet
root, four ounces of shell-lac varnish, two ounces of
turpentine, and the same quantity of scraped bees'-
wax, with a pint of linseed-oil ; and when they have
stood a week, the mixture will be ready for use.

Furniture-paste is made by scraping a quarter of a
pound of bees'-wax into half a pint of turpentine, and
letting it stand to dissolve. This will keep the wood
light. If, however, a quarter of a pint of linseed-oil
be added to the above, the composition will darken the
wood. Another paste, useful for very light wood, is
made as follows: — In a quart of hot water dissolve
six ounces of pearl-ash, add a quarter of a pound of
white wax, and simmer the whole for half an hour in
a pipkin; take it off the fire, and when it has cooled,
the wax will float upon the surface, and should be
worked in a mortar, with a little hct water, into a soft
paste. With this furniture may be highly polished, as
may also marble chimney-pieces. It is necessary to
mention that furniture cleaned with paste has the dis-
advantage of receiving heat-marks more readily than
if polished with linseed-oil, which, however, requires
more time and labour. In any case, the furniture
should be cleansed from grease and stains before polish-
ing is attempted; and this may be done by washing
the wood with hot beer, or with soap and water. The
safest way to heat furniture-paste or oil is, to place the
vessel containing it in another holding boiling water
upon the fire, in the manner of a glue-pot.

A fine varnish for mahogany or other furniture may
be thus made : — Put into a bottle two ounces of gum-
sandrac, one ounce of shell-lac, half an ounce of mastic,
half an ounce of gum-benjamin, one ounce of Venice
turpentine, and a pint of S])irit8 of wine. Colour red
with dragon's blood, or yellow with saffron. Let it
stand in a warm place until the gums are dissolved,
when strain it for use.

To extract Ink from Mahogany. — Dilute half a tea-
spoonful of oil of vitriol with a large spoonful of water,
and apply it to the ink spot with a feather : let it lie
for a few minutes, and rub it off quickly; and repeat
if not quite removed. This receipt of course is only
applicable to plain mahogany; the sulphuric acid or
oil of vitriol would destroy any varnish, such as French
polish, upon which it might be laid.

Varnishing. — Before new furniture is varnished, it
should have a coat of boiled oil (if wished to be dark-

ened) or linseed-oil, and be left a day or ttfo to harden ;
or a thin size, made from isinglos or gum-tragacantb,
dissolved in water, or very thin glue, is used ; so that
the pores of the wood be filled up, and both varnish
and time be thus saved. A gjod varnish inay be made
by dissolving eight ounces of white wax and half an
ounce of yellow rosin in a pint of spirits of turpentine.
Boltks. — Cut a raw potato into small pieces, and
put them in the bottle along with a tablespoonful of
salt, and two tablespoonfuls of water. Shake all well
together in the bottle till every mark is removed, and
rinse with clean water. This will remove stains of
wine, green marks of vegetation, and other discoloura-
tions. Hard crust in bottles may be cleaned off' bv
rinsine with water and small shot. Take care to wash
out all the shot before putting the bottles aside.

Plate. — Articles of plate, after being used, should be
washed in hot water; or, if stained, they should be
boiled, and rinsed and dried before you attempt to
clean them. They should be carefully handled, else
they may receive deep scratches, which are very diffi-
cult to remove. Besides, the object is not merely to
clean the plate, but to polish it, so that it may appear
almost as brilliant as when it n as received new from
the silversmith. For this purpose quicksilver was
formerly much used in plate-powder, and it gave the
silver great lustre, which soon, however, disappeared,
and the article became tarnished and blackened. The
best plate-powder corsists of dried and finely-sifted
whiting or chalk. The greater part of the whiting
sold in the shops is coarse trash, unfit for rubbing upon
plate, and great care must be taken to procure the
finest London whiting, which will not scratch.

Brushes, hard and soft, sponge, and wash-leather,
are requisite for cleaning plate: if the powder be mixed
with spirits of wine laid on with a sponge, and rubbed
off with wash-leather, all tarnish will be removed. Salt
stains (blackish spots) and sulphur marks from eggs
are more difiicult tj remove. It is a good plan to boil
a soft tine old cloth in water with some prepared chalk
dissolved in it, and to dry the cloth, and use it for
polishing. The soft bi-ush is for the same purpose, the
hard brush being for chased work, edges, and crests,
so that not a portion of dry powder may remain in
them. Plate should in all cases be finished with a fine
dry wash-leather. Plated articles should be carefully
wiped dry after washing them, else they will rust or
canker at the edges, where the silver first wears off;
and on this account also they should be cleaned as
rarely as possible. German silver may be cleaned in
the same manner as plate.

Embroidery and uold-Laee should be cleaned only
with spirits of wine, or brushed with finely-powdered
roche-alum and chalk. For gold chains, dissolve
three ounces of sal-ammoniac in six ounces of water,
in which boil the chain ; then boil it in soft soap and
water, wash it in cold water, rub it dry with flannel,
and shake it in a bag with very dry bran.

Flannel or Woollen Articles. — Wash them quickly
in moderately-warm water with soap. Wring and
shake them well, and hang them up to dry. Do not
let them lie wet. The more quickly they are dried,
the less likely are they to shrink.

Silks. — No silks look well after washing, however
carefully it be done, and should therefore never be
resorted to but from absolute necessity. W^e have
seen it recommended to sponge faded silks with warm
water and soap, then to rub them with a dry cloth on
a flat board, after which to iron them on the inside
with a smoothing iron. Sponging with spirits will also
improve old black silks. The ironing may be done on
the right side, with thin paper or muslin spread over
then), to prevent glazing.

The Colour of a Print Dress may be preserved by
separating the body and train, and washing in cold rain
or river water, into which a handful of salt has been
thrown. Instead of spreading the dress to dry, it
should be rolled in a coarse cloth, and allowed to re-
main till dry enough to be ironed.

773

CHAMBEBS'S INFOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

Bed FeaUiert. — Put a manageable quantity into a
pillow ca«e or bag, vrhich wash witn warm water
and Boap. Wring out the latlier, and rinse them in
clean water. Wring them as dry aa possible, and
haug them up to dry. Shake them frequently while
drying. When quite dry, beat them, to free them
from any dust. The feathers may be now taken from
the bag, and are ready for use.

Lace. — When lace has lost its colour, soap it well,
and put it in cold water, just enough to cover it. If
much discoloured, change the water at the end of
twenty-four hours. When steeped sufficiently, rinse it
out; starch it a little; pick it out as evenly as possible ;
roll it in a towel, and when nearly dry, iron it. All
lace veils may be treated in a similar manner.

Scarlet Cloth. — Pour boiling water upon bran, strain
it, and, while hot, wash the cloth in it, and rinse with
hot water. Soap should not be used. Purple cloth
may be washed in hot water and pure lye. Saxony
or dark-print dresses should be washed in two lathers,
and in the second should be poured a little ox-gall,
which will freshen reds, blacks, and greens ; and a
handful of salt added to the lost rinsing-water will pre-
vent the colours running.

Clear Starching is practised as follows : — Rinse the
articles in three waters, dry them, and dip them in a
thick starch, previously strained through muslin ;
squeeze them, shake them gently, and again hang them
up to dry; and when dry, dip them twice or thrice in
clear water, squeeze them, spread them on a linen
cloth, roll them up in it, and let them lie an hour before
ironing them. Some persons put sugar into the starch,
to prevent it sticking while ironing; and others stir the
starch with a candle, to effect the same end ; we object
to these practices as injurious to the article starched,
or as very nauseous. The best plan to prevent stick-
ing is to make the starch well, and to have the irons
quite clean and highly polished.

Stairu, — Stains of fruit or wine may be generally
removed from linen or cotton cloth by placing the
articles over the top of a pail, and pouring boiling water
through them till the marks disappear.

Ink Marks or Iron Moulds may be removed by placing
a plate (a pewter one is the best) on the top of a basin-
ful of boiling water ; then spread the articles on the
plate ; wet the spot, and rub it with a small quantity
of the salts of lemon ; as the article dries, the stain will
disappear. If thic fail, repeat the operation. A small
box of salts of lemon will be found very useful in a
household. Mildew may be removed from linen by the
following process ; — Rub the cloth well with soap; then
scrape some fine chalk, and rub it also on the stained
part. Lay the linen on the gross, and, as it dries, wet
it a little ; the mildew will be removed by one or two
ap])lications at most.

Paint or Greas^Spots may be removed from woollen
cloth by turpentine. Smith's scouring drops is a liquid
sold in small bottles, which will also be found efficacious
in removing oil or grease marks ; it is more expensive
than turpentine, but has a less offensive odour.

To crtract (keaae from Silk. — As soon after the dis-
covery of the injury as possible, hold the part firmly,
and with a clean soft white cloth, or an old cambric
handkerchief, rub the spot briskly, changing the por-
tions of the handkerchief frequently, and in a minute
or two the spot will disappear. On silks which fray
easily, this plan will be unsuitable.

DESTROYING VERMIN.

The best plan for preventing the attacks of vennin
in houses is to keep the house scrupulously clean; for
where there is cleanliness nud ordinary precautions, no
vermin will generate or exist.

Rati and Mice. — These might in most instances be
completely prevented from encroaching in dwellings
by giving a solid foundation to the house, cutting ofl^
the approach by grating the drains, but especially by
filling up all open spaces beneath pavements and in
walls and partitions. Mice might be effectually kept
774

out by only filling up the spaces behind tklrting-boards
in rooms. These vacant spaces are invariably the habi-
tations of mice; and the first thing any person should
do in entering into possession of a domicile, is to cause
all the spaces behind the skirting-boards and wainscots
to be filled with plaster. Where mice and rats have
gained a footing in a house, they should be taken oft'
by a cat or trap, and when one kind of trap fails, an-
other may be tried. All schemes for poisoning them
with arsenic or other ingredients are dangerous ; and
even were they not so, the animals, having partaken,
may retire to their holes, and dying there, cause an in-
tolerable stench. The following method, which is said
to be effectual, is fr;e from these objections : — Take oil
of amber and ox-gall in equal parts, add to them oat-
meal or flour sufficient to form a paste, which divide
into little balls, and lay them in the middle of the in-
fested apartment. Surround the balls with a number
of vessels filled with water — the smell of the oil is sure
to attract the rats, they will greedily devour the balls,
and becoming intolerably thirsty, will drink till they
die on the spot.

Btigs. — These pests exist only in dirty houses. A
careful housewife or servant will soon completely de-
stroy them. The surest method of destruction is to
catch thera individually when they attack the person
in bed. When their bite is felt, instantly rise and
light a candle, and capture them. This may be trouble-
some, but if there be not a great number, a few nights
will finish them. When there is a large number, and
they have gained a lodgment in the timbers, take the
bed in pieces, and fill in all the apertures and joints
with a mixture of lime and soft soap. A pieOo of
wickerwork called a bug-trap, placed at the head of
the bed, forms a receptacle for them, and then they
may be daily caught till no more are left. Fumiga-
tions are very dangerous, and rarely effectual; there-
fore attempt no such project. Oil-painting a wall is
a sure means of excluding and destroying them. The
following extirpating mixture is given on high autho-
rity: — Spirits of wine, half a pint ; spirits of turpentine,
half a pint; crude sal-ammoniac, half an ounce; cor-
rosive sublimate, one ounce; camphor, one ounce. This
mixture should be inserted into the joints of bedsteads,
&c, with a syringe, and with n sponge fastened to a
stick : every part of the wood-work must be washed
with it. Many bug-poisor.s, in fact, are to be had at
the chemists; but it is rot only unpleasant, but dan-
gerous to have such mixtures about a house : and, after
all, they are really less effective than unremitting
cleanliness. As means are taken to destroy, so means
ought to be taken to prevent the introduction of these
pests, which are often brought from one house to an-
other in clothes, in old furniture, travelling-bags, books
from libraries, servants' chests, and even in the old cut-
wood sold for kindling fires.

Fleas, — There is no way of ridding a bed or house of
these vermin but exceseive cleanliness. Keep the floors
well swept and washed, an. if you have a dog, comb
and wash it frequently. Fleas are bred on the ground,
or among dust; and it has been said that to destroy
one in March or early spring is destroying hundreds.

Lice are now almost unknown in England. Wherever
they are found, there certainly also is found dirtiness.
Ignorant people imagine that these nauseous vermin
breed spontaneously: this is a gross error. Ry clean-
liness they are completely prevented ; and the warmer
the climate, so is the necessity for cleanliness greater.

Beetles, Cockroaches, and Crickets. — These may be
caught in traps, without the disagreeable and dan-
gerous expedients of poisoning or fumigation. A simple
trap for them is a glazed basin or pie-dish half-filled
with sweetened beer or milk, and to the edge of which
a piece of wood is laid from the floor as a gangway.
' I took a water ewer,' writes a seafaring friend whose
cabin was infested with cockroaches, ' and baited it
with a little treacle on its bottom — for of all sweets,
and this in particular, they are exceedingly fond; and
attracted by it during the night, they dropped in to

HOtrSEHOLD HINTS.

latiify their appetite. Once in, they could not clamber
up the steep iinooth aides of the Teasel, and in this
manner I had it filled, night after night, within two
inchea of the brim.'

Flie$. — It ia difficult to rid a houae of flies by any
other plan than poisoning, and that is too dangerous to
be reooramended. A composition of milk, sugar, and
ftepper will attract and kill them, and so will a decoc-
tion of quassia sweetened with sugar; but both cause
them to make offensive marks on the walls and furni-
ture before they die. Gilt frames and chandeliers
should be shrouded in thin yellow gauze or paper, in
situations where the flies are likely to spoil them.
Trees near a house form a harbour for flies, as well as
dirt and oflTensive odours of all kinds. Cleanliness
and airiness are the best preTentives.

Mothi. — The bflst way to preserve furs or worsteds
from moths is to sew them closely up in a bag of new
unwashed linen; if this be not done, the next best is to
take the articles frequently out and brush and air them.
The odour of camphor, shavings of Russia leather,
lavender, &c., are much less efficacious than they are
supposed to be. Kill every flying moth which you see.

Sliigi. — Take a quantity of cabbage leaves, and either
put them into a warm oven, or hold them before a fire
till they are quite soft; then rub them with unsalted
butter, or any kind of fresh dripping, and lay them in
the places infested with slugs. In a few hours the leaves
will be found covered with snails and slugs, which may
theu be destroyed in any way you think fit.

ESCAPES FROH BURNING, &C.

Precautions as to Fire. — Houses are said to take fire
by accidents; but these accidents are in general only
acts of carelessness, and could, with a reasonable degree
of prudence, be avoided. As prevention is better than
cure, we offer the following advices : —

Never leave a candle burning at your bedside, or on
a table when you go to bed, except it be a rush, wax,
or floating light, burning in a basin at a considerable
distance from the bed or window curtains. The best
place for setting the light is on the hearth.

Never put hot cinders or ashes into a bucket to set
aside in a closet.

If you light candles with pieces of paper, take care
that the burning paper is completely trampled out after
being used. It is always safest to light candles and
lamps with a small wax taper, which can be at once
blown out. In large manufactories, where there are
many lamps or gas-burners to light, let the lighting
apparatus be a small hand-lamp, which shall be in
charge of a particular person in the premises.

Never blow gas lights out ; always turn them off;
and turn off the gas at the main stopcock at the door.
Should the gas from any cause have escaped, and the
smell be suddenly and offensively felt, at once turn off
the supply at the meter or stopcock, and open the
windows to allow the entrance of fresh air. Be careful
not to take a lighted candle into the apartment where
the escape has taken place.

Cause the chimneys to be swept once in three months,
or oftener if necessary, so as to prevent the accumu-
lated soot from catching fire. Sometimes houses are
set on fire from beams which encroach upon the chim-
neys. House builders ought to be particularly cautious
in preventing any part of the woodwork from coming
in contact with the flues.

The following are advices how to act when the catas-
trophe of fire actually takes place : —

Chimney on Fire. — To extinguish speedily the fire in a
chimney, it is only necessary to hang over the fireplace
a piece of wet carpet or blanket : some handfuls of
salt thrown into the fire at the same time will greatly
aid the extinction. It is also recommended to scatter
a handful of flowers of sulphur over the dullest part of
the burning coals, the mephetic vapours arising from
which will not support combustion, and consequently
extinguish the flames. Throwing water down from the
top is a clumsy expedient, by wnich much damage is

frequently done to furniture; so also is stopping at the
top, by which the smoke and suffocating smell of the
burning soot is driven into the apartment. If every
fireplace were provided with a damper, or shutter of
sheet-iron, sufficiently large to choke it thoroughly,
fire in chimneys would become of little consequence,
as it would only be necessary to apply this damper to
extinguish them. All good modem grates are funiinhed
with such dampers. To set chimneys on fire with a
view to clean them is highly objectionable, even where
there is no danger of fire to be apprehended, as the in-
tense heat produced rends and weakens the walls.

Clothe* catching Fire. — The moment you see that your
clothes are on fire, remain still and collected ; do not,
on any account, run away in a fright. If there be a
loose rug, carpet, or table-cover at hand, snatch it up
and roll it tightly about you. If you can get this done
smartly, the flames will immediately be extinguished.
Should no cloth of any kind be at hand, and no one be
present to give assistance, lay yourself down on the
floor, and try to extinguish the names by rolling your-
self about, always taking care to keep the garments as
close together as possible. If a man be present, let
him take off his coat and wrap it round you ; and if a
woman, her shawl will answer the same purpose. By
one or other means, such as are here pointed out, the
fire will be stifled, and perhaps the only personal injury
will be some slight scorching of the hands, which must
not be regarded in averting an infinitely greater evil.

[For remedial applications in the event of injuries
from fire — as bums, scalds, &c. — see Household Sue-
GERY, Vol. I. page 764.]

House on Fire. — In making way through a burning
house, ^e ought not, if it be full of smoke, to walk
upright, for then we shall run the risk of suffocation.
It is best to creep along on hands and knees, the
freest air being to be had close to the floor. On being
awakened by an alarm of fire during the night, it is
particularly important to preserve presence of mind,
and not to act till a moment has been taken for reflec-
tion. Preservation may depend on the choice we make
of going up or dotvn stairs, or on some selection of
movement equally unimportant in ordinary circum-
stances of non-alarm.

Fire -Escapes. — The escape from a house which is on
fire is sometimes prevented by the stairs being of wood,
and either burning or already destroyed. In such an
emergency, there are only two means of escape — issuing
by the skylight, and so reaching the next house, or
going over the window. On this account every house
with wooden stairs should have a skylight, accessible
from the upper floors, and aUo some kind of apparatus
for getting safely from the windows to the ground.
The apparatus which meets with most general appro-
bation is a rope-ladder, and this may be made in diffe-
rent forms. Captain Manby recommends ' a rope with
nooses, distended by flat rests for the feet at convenient
distances for steppmg from one to another. In cases
of danger, this might be instantly fastened by one end
to a table or bed-post, while the other is thrown out of
the window, thus furnishing a ready escape when per-
haps there is no other possible means near those who
are in momentary dread of being burnt to death.'
Such a ladder may be serviceably kept by private
parties; and we should advisi that at all events every
house with wooden stairs ought to be provided with
one or more pieces of knotted rope, and these be
deposited in the bedrooms, for use when suddenly
required. Where, from carelessness, no fire-escape of
this kind has been provided, two or more sheets or
blankets taken from the bed may be tied to each other
by the corners, and thus a rope of sheet be formed.
There is no instance on record of a person being burnt
to death - in Edinburgh by fires in dwellinghouses,
although the buildings are more than usually high;
the reason of which is, that there the stairs are all of
stone. Every fire-establishment in towns, besides fire-
engines and buckets, should possess several long ladders,
ready at all times to be applied to windows ; also cords,

775

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

which maj bo brought to bear whenTer they are
required. Portable laddera on the teleicope principle
are now not uncommon in our large towni.

Ventilation ami Fumigation, — It it euential to health
that the habitationi occupied by ui should be free of
impure air and all noxiou* vapours. The first step
towards this end is to effect and maintain a liberal cir-
culation of fresh air, either by ventilators or by regu-
larly opening the windows for stated daily periods. Ths
kindling of tiros also promotes the circulation of atmo-
spheric currents. Noxious effluvia may be most effec-
tually removed by occasional sprinklings of a solution
of chloride of lime upon the floors and walls, the win-
dows being kept open tho while. It is always proper
also that an infected house should be whitewashed.
We have seen recommendations to purify tho air of
rooms by closing them, and burning salt and oil of
vitriol in a dish placed oti the floor. In unskilful hands
such plans are highly dangerous; and we strongly ad-
vise every one to confine the fumigating process to
sprinkling with chloride of lime, and to ventilate by
opening all outlets to the air. Lives are sometimes
lost by sleeping in a close room in which charcoal is
burning, the person in this case being stifled with
noxious gas. SVe advise that every sleepirg apartment
should be airy, and that no one should go to bed with
charcoal burning in the grate or stove. Bedrooms are
always best without fires of any kind.

Disinfectants and Ueodoriaers. — The^r, as their names
import, are agents employed to destroy noxious and
offensive effluvia. The principal, according to Mr
Cooley, ' arc chlorine, tho chlorides of lime and soda,
the fumes of nitrous and nitric acids, heat and venti-
lation. The last two are the most efficient and easily
applied. The clothing, bedding, &c. of patients labour-
ing under contagious diseases may be effectually disin-
fected by exposure to a temperature of about that of
boiling water. Neither the texture nor colour of tex-
tile fabrics are injured even by a heat of 250 degrees
Fahrenheit. It is a practice at some of the workhouses
to bake the clothes of the paupers who have the itch, or
are infested with vermin. Quicklime rapidly absorbs
carbonic acid, sulphuretted hydrogen, and several other
noxious gases, and is therefore commonly used as a
wash for the w.i!ls of buildings. Acetic acid, camphor,
fragrant pastiles, cascarilla, and other similar sub-
stances, are frequently burnt or volatilised by heat, for
the purpose of disguising unpleasant odours. The sul-
phates of iron and lime have the property of rapidly
destroying noxious effluvia. A quantity of either of
these sulphates thrown into a cesspool, for instance,
will in a few hours remove the fetid smell.'

Alarms in Churches and Theatres. — Alarms, whether
with reference to fire or the falling of galleries, often
take place in these and similar places of resort. In
general they are raised without due cause, often from
a circumstance of the most trifling nature, and per-
haps occasionally from a deliberate spirit of mischief.
However originating, they almost invariably generate
a panic, and occasion much damage, which a little
reflection would have enabled those present to avoid.
The newspapers teem with accounts of incidents of this
nature. In most instances the whole mischief is caused
by yielding too easily to alarm. We anxiously recom-
mend every one to cultivate the power of suppressing
such idle emotions. When a cry of fire, or of the
falling of galleries, is raised in church, sit still, and
remain tranquil till the assemblage is allowed to dis-
perse in the usual way. On no account yield to alarm.
Granting that there is a real cause of danger, you are
infinitely more safe sitting still than trying to rush
wildly to the door.

Attackn of Madmen. — A person in a house may be-
romo suddenly insane, and make a violent and deadly
attack on those within reach. The best way to avert
liny serious calamity in cases of such attack is to rc-
niuin calm and collected, and, if necessary, humour the
madman till assistance bo procured. A lady of our
acquaintance kept a boarding-house, and one day a
770

boarder entered the room in which she wai sitting,
armed with a carving-knife, and with great coolness
said he had taken a fancy to cut off her head. The
lady was alone. She s»w her extreme danger, but did
not scream or appear alarmed, for that would have
precipitated tho catastrophe. She humoured the mad-
man, and proposed that she should go and fetch a cloth
to lay on the floor, so at to prevent the blood from
damaging the carpet. This bait took, and she got safely
out of the room, and into her bed-chamber, in which
there was a key in the door in the inside. She instantly
locked the door, and flying to the window, cried for
help to the passengers in the street. The madman
was speedily secured. In thid instance the lady clearly
owed her life to presence of mind.

We would add, let every door t'n a haute have it» keg,
and let the key remain in it both night and day.
Every night, on going to bed, isolate each room, by
locking it, and lock your own door in the inside. Al-
ways look beneath the bed and into any cupboardt in
tho room before going to rest.

Coach Accidents. — Should the horses run off, in defi-
ance of all restraint, while you are in a coach, sit per-
fectly still; and in anticipation of the possible over-
turn, keep your legs and arms from straggling. Sit
easily and compactly, so that, when upset, you will
gently roll over in the direction you are thrown. We
have seen ladies in these circumstances scream wildly,
and throw their arms out of the windows, thus ex-
posing themselves to the chance of broken limbs. If
run away with in a gig, either sit still collectedly, or
drop out at the back, so as to fall on your hands.
Never jump from a rapidly-moving vehicle, unless
(supposing it impossible to slip down behind) you tee
a precipice in front, in which case any risk of per-
sonal damage is preferable to remaining still. The
Duke of Orleans [son of Louis-Philippe] lost his life
by neglecting these simple precautions.

[For further information on the subject of accidents
and emergencies consult No. 48, Vol. I.]

BIANAQGHENT OF FUEL AND WATER.

To light a Fire, clear the ashes from the grate, leaving
a few cinders for a foundation, upon which put a piece
of dry crumpled brown paper, and lay on a few small
sticks crosswise, then some of larger size, and on them
a few pieces of coal, and next the large cinders; and
when the flames have caught the coal, add a backing
of small coal and cinders. When the fire has become
low, stir it together, but do not turn the large cinders;
clear the front of the lower bar to admit air, and pass
the poker into the bottom of the fire to clear it of
ashes; and then with tongs put on a few large pieces
of coal towards the front of the fire, but not on the
upper bar, else the fire will smoke. Coals should not
bo thrown on, but put on gently with a scoop or
shovel; and even the smallest ashes may be burnt (.t
the back of the fire, if they be covered with small coal.
The best and quickest mode of restoring a neglected
fire is to stir out the ashes, and with the tongs to fill
up the spaces between the bars with cinders. If care-
fully done, it is surprising how soon this process will
produce a glowing fire. A very effective firelighter or
reviver, composed of sawdust and coal-tar, is now to
be had in the shops for the merest trifle.

Economical Fuel. — In places where coal is scarce and
dear, a tolerably good fuel may be made by mixing the
culm or refuse dross of coal with clay, and moistening
the whole with water — masses in the form of bricks or
balls may be mode, which, when dry, will burn with
an intense heat. Where peat prevails, that article may
be easily charred by burning in a covered pit or stove ;
and this charred peat will be found to give a great heat
when used in an open fire. The Dutch make much use
of their turf in this manner. Another economical fuel,
easily procurable where there are woods of Scotch firs,
consists of fir cones or tops, which contain a great quan-
tity of solid woodv matter in addition to the resinous,
and are excellently adapted for domestic fires. Ashes

HOUSEHOLD HINT8.

aAd iinall ciiiden uiixod with water iiito a raaM, and
put oil the back of a tire with a few ooals, bum well,
10 that aahet may thus be entirely burnt up. In itorei
under boilers, this mixture is very useful, aa it lasts
long, with little addition.

Smoky Chimneyt. — The causes of smokiness in chim-
neys are various; but all aro connected with the pro-
perties of air and heat, for (he smoke is only particles
of culm ascending through the aj^oucy of heated air.
To make a chimney rent well, the column of heated air
from the fire must not be entangled with cold air from
beneath, nor retarded by cold air coming down the
chimney. To elfect these objects, the fireplace must
not be much larger than the grate, and the chimney
must be of a certain length and bent. The great lead-
ing cause of smokiness is cold air somehow or other
mii.ing with the warm air about the mouth or throat
of the chimney, and so causing a sluggishness in the
ascent, or no ascent at all. Therefore the nearer the
air is made to pass the fire on all sides, the more rare-
fied it will be ; and the less vacancy there is in the
cliimney-place, it will ascend with the greater rapidity.
A proper contraction of the mouth of the chiaiiiey, at
the same time allowing the fire to be fed freely with
air, will be found in most instances to cure smoke. Of
late, certain contrivances called 'dampers,' by which the
cliimney throat can be narrowed, have been the means
of effecting draughts, and so curing smoko. It should
be noted, that in contracting chimney throats, the con-
traction should not be all at once, but at first gradual,
and then straight upward, so as not to allow a volume
of cold air to lurk in a hollow above. A chimney
being wide at bottom, and gradually narrowing towards
the next storey, allows the coldish air to hang about
the lower parts, by which, when a gust of wind comes,
the smoke is driven bock into the room. This kind of
smokiness is the most teasing of all the forms of chim-
ney diseases. Every little puflTof wind sends a smaller
or larger quantity of smoke into the apartment, and
often when it is least expected. Perhaps this kind of
smokiness is not in all cases caused by wrong construc-
tion, but arises from the situation of the house; and of
this we shall immediately say a few words.

If a funnel of a chimney be made too narrow to af-
ford an easy passage to the top, the smoke will then
naturally be forced into the room to find some other
passage; this defect is very common, and the remedy
troublesome and difficult. The most eifec^.ual cure, if
the situation will admit, is to build & small additional
Hue, and open a hole into it from the bask of the chim-
ney, near the level of the mantelpiece, slanting Up-
wards ill an easy direction ; this supplemental flue must
be carried to the top of the building, to receive the sur-
plus of the smoke, and will prove a certain cure. If the
situation will not allow of this expedient, the fireplace
may be contracted both in breadth and height, a smaller
grate used, and the chimney heightened at the top;
which will oblige the air to pass close over the fire,
and can-y up the smoke with greater rapidity; for the
quicker the current, the less room it requires. Should
the chimney still smoke, a blower, or front-plate, to put
on and take off at pleasure, will be of use. But if none
of these prescriptions answer, then something must be
done to improve the current of air towards the fire.
This brings us to a consideration of the want of suflS-
cient ventilation in the room.

If the chimney and fireplace be faultless, and yet
smoke, it is aliuost certain that there is a want of ven-
tilation. In ordinary circumstances, as much air is ad-
mitted by chinks in windows and doors as will feed a
fire; but if the room be rendered very close by closing
as many chinks as possible, how is the fire to receive
air i According to the plan on which houses are gene-
rally built, ventilation is left to be a matter of chance.
To ventilate an old house is therefore no easy task.
Tlie following plans are worth considering, for they
have been found to answer: — Contrive to bring a small
tube from the external air, or from a staircase or lobby,
to a point beneath the grate, so as to cause a free cur-

rent of air to reach the fire. If the mouth of the tub*
below the grate be topped with a cuwl, thn nihes will
be prevented from falling into it. Some years ago, the
rooms of a public ofSce in Edinburgh were completely
cured of tiuoke by this simple contrivance, after all
other means had failed. Another plan consists in per-
forating small holes in the cornice or roof, for the air
to gain admission ; but, unfortunately, unless care be
taken to prevent colds, thi* species of cure is apt to be
worse than the disease.

Cases are by no means uncommon of fireplaces
giving out a puff of smoke evenr time the door of the
room is shut. The cause of this kind of smokiness
is the want of ventilation in the room. In shutting
the door, it pulls out a certain quantity of air, which
cannot be oiiorded to be lost, or it causes such distrac-
tion of the current towards the fire, that the equili-
brium that carries up the smoke is destroyed, and a
puff downwards — in other words, a rusli of air, loaded
with smoke from the chimney — is the consequence. It
will be remarked that this smokiness occurs most fre-
quently when the door is on the same side of the room
as the fireplace. We should therefore advise house-
planners to avoid this bad arrangement. If possible,
let the door be on a different side from that m which
the fire is placed. Most houses in which the chimneys
go up the middle walls instead of the gables, have the
fault we mention. A remedy for this smokiness is to
contract the mouth of tne chimney, and, if possible,
heighten the stalk; for if the chimney be pretty long,
the heated air ascending it goes with such a force that
the outer heavy air cannot get down, at least not to so
great an extent as to cause a puff when the door is
shutting. In some cases the cause of the disease will
be found to be air rushing up behind the grate, if a
register, and then coming down to supply the fire, the
action of the door disturbing the current. This is
therefore an argument for always taking care to build
register ptoves quite close behind, not leaving the
smallest cre\ ice lor air to steal up the chimney without
first going through the fire.

In erecting chimneys, it should be a rule to carry
them up a good way in a perpendicular direction be-
fore making a turn, by which means the heated air
gains a force in its primary vertical ascent which
carries it over future difficulties. In walls in which
the fireplace of one storey is immediately below the
fireplace above, it is impossible to get a perfect straight
for any great length; therefore this must be left to the
judgment of the builder. It is also advantageous for
all chimneys to have a bend in them before reaching
the top, and a garret chimney should have two bends.
For want of attention to this top bending, many cottage
and small villa chimneys smoke. The use of bends is
obvious : strong, sudden, and accidental gusts of wind
sometimes enter, and beat into the top of the chimney;
a turning or bend, therefore, will break the force of the
wind, and prevent it repelling the heated air down-
wards. But if the chimney is straight, and the gust
meet with no interruption, it will stop the passage of
the smoke for a while, and of course force what rises
from the fire immediately into the chamber.- It is to
be observed, that the farther the wind gets down the
funnel, the greater strength will be required to repel it;
therefore the nearer to the top the bend or winding is
the better. Also, if there is a storm of wind, with heavy
showers of hail, snow, or rain, falling perpendicularly
in great drops, the first bend or turning will, in part,
stop their progress; but if the funnel is perpendicular
all the way down, the great drops of hail, snow, and
rain, will fall freely to the bottom, repelling the smoke
into the room ; and if the funnel is foul, great quan-
tities of soot will be driven down. These considerations
recommend a bend in some part of the funnel as abso-
lutely necessary.

Garret chimneys are more liable to smoke than any
other in the house, owing to the shortness of the fun-
nel : for when the composition of rarefied air and smoke
has made its way up a high funnel, it forms a strong

777

CHAMBERS'S INVOHUATION fOR THE PEOPLE.

column, and to repal it requires r proportionably groat
force; but in a garret chimney tbii itrong column can-
not be obtainea; therefore what cannot be had from
nature must be aimed at by art. The fault in moit
garret chimneys it, being carried up in a straight direc-
tion from bottom to top in a slovenly manner, and with
funnels as large as any in the house; whereby the little
internal rarefied air has the whole immediate pressure
of the atmosphere to resist, which in general is too
powerful for it. Hut a garret or cottage chimney car-
ried up and executed in a proper manner, with duu
proportion in every part, according to the the of the
room, and the funnel in an easy crooked direction, will
draw and be as clear from smoke as any other.

When smokiness is produced by too short a chimney,
it will be necessary to add to its length either by build-
ing the stalk higher, or inserting an earthenware not
cr iron tube at the summit. The building of higher
stalks is an infallible remedy, provided all be right
below; but it is attended with danger to adjoining roofs.
Pots or cans are useful both in adding to height, and
in causing a free disengagement and shooting of the
smoke as soon as it enters the outer atmosphere.

Another very common cause of smokiness is fires
overpowering one another. P'or instance, if there be
two chimneys in one large room, and you make fires
in both of them, the doors and windows close shut, you
will find that *;he greater and stronger fire shall over-
power the weaker, and draw air down its funnel to
supply its own demand; which air descending in the
weaker funnel, will drive down its smoke, and force it
into the room. If, instead of being in one room, the
two chimneys are in two diflierent rooms, communicat-
ing by a door, the case is the same whenever that door
is open. In a very tight house, it has been known that
a kitchen chimney on the lowest floor, when it had a
great fire in it, has overpowered any other chimney in
the house, and drawn nir and smoke into its room as
often as the door was opened communicating with the
staircase. The remedy for this is, to take care that
every room in a house has the mc&ns of supplying
itself with what air it requires, so that it does not need
to borrow air from other rooms. Back smoke is only
cold air loaded with smoke coming down into a room
from an adjoining chinmey-top, in order to supply, in
the readiest manner, air to that room. Thus fires in
the lower part of a house will draw air even from a
garret room, and this garret room will draw air to
supply its deficiency, by taking it in a smoky condition
from the adjoining chimney tops.

Smokiness is also produced when the tops of chimneys
are commanded by higher buildings, or by a hill, so
that the wind blowing over such eminences falls, like
water over a dam, on the tops of the chimneys that lie
in its way, and beats down the smoke contained in them.
Sometimes we have seen the droll phenomenon — though
it is no laughing matter — of every particle of smoke all
of a sudden pouring into the room, in consequence of
a gust of wind blowing pertinaciously for several
minutes down the chimney. Such a form of smokiness
arises chiefly from the situation of the house, and the
want of a bend in the chimney. The remedy )o be
applied is fixing on the top cf the chimney a turning
cap or cowl, which acts like a weathercock, and keeps
its closed side to the wind. These cowls, however, are
creaking, noisy things; and being hence insufi'erable
near sleeping-rooms, are only to be resorted to when
more simple means have proved unavailing.

Supply of Water, whether for dietetic, domestic, or
sanitary purposes, has been fully discussed in a pre-
vious number ^30). The chief care of the housewife is,
that she has a sufficient, pure, and wholesome supply
of this indispensable element. Where water for do-
mestic purposes is obtained from open streams and
pools, caution is always necessary, and especially dur-
ing summer, when vegetable and animal impurities
are most abundant. Pump-wells also require ti> be
looked after, especially if they have etood without
778

being used for a time. Where Mrvice-pipei are ad-
mitted into a house, care ii necessary — 1«(, To see
that the stopcocks are always secure, as A'equently
great damage is occasioned to furniture and ceilings
by waste water; 2(f, That cisterns be regularly cleaned,
and if of lead, that they be not scoured, but simply
sluiced out; and, 'id, That during severe frosts the
stopcocks of exposed pipes be allowed to discharge a
little, as the flow of watei prevents freezing and con-
sequent bursting of the pipes.

To purify Wattr, a vast number of means may be
adopted, according to the nature of the impurities: —
1 . Water may be sweetened and improved by free expo-
sure to the air. Pouring it at some height from a water-
ing-pot into a flat vessel will answer this end. 2, Filtra-
tion or agitation with freshly-bunit charcoal, animal or
vegetable, but especially the former, is an excellent
method. 3. From fiileen to twenty drops of sulphuric
acid to a gallon of water will produce a similar effect.
4. An ounce or thereby of powdered alum, dissolved
and stirred into a hogshead of putrid water, will pre-
cipitate the foul matter in a few hours. 5. Hed sul-
phate of iron, black oxide of manganese, or a little
aqueous chorine, will produce the same eflfect. U. Hard
water may be softened by the addition of a solution of
carbonate cf soda or potash; by the same means sea-
water may be rendered fit for washing.

To filter Water, — Put into an earthen vessel (such as
sugar-bakers use to form the loaves in, with a small
hole at the bottom or pointed end) some pieces of
sponge, and on them a sufficient number of small clean
pebbles to quarter-fill the vessel. Mang this filter end
aownward, in a barrel with the head out, leaving a
space of about two or three inches between the end of
the filter and the bottom of the barrel. The upper part
of the filter should be kept a little above the top of the
barrel, which must always be kept full of water. The
sediment of the water will remain at the bottom of the
barrel, and the pure water will rise through the sponge
and pebbles to the vacant part of the filter. It may be
hung in a cisteni, or water-butt if more convenient. The
pebbles and sponge should be cleansed occasionally.

Another economical filter may be made by taking out
the head of a cask, setting it upright, and at a distance
of about one-third from the bottom putting in a shelf
or partition pierced with small holes; this shelf being
covered with pebbles, upon which is a layer of fresh
charcoal made from bones; and over this lay fine sand,
to the depth of an inch, covered with another layer of
pebbles; and upon this should be placed another shelf,
pierced with hole!<, to prevent the pebbles, sand, and
charcoal being disturbed by the water which is poured
or runs in at the top of the cask; and after passing
through the filter, is drawn off by a crane placed at
the bottom of the cask.

Portable and very eflicient earthenware filters may
be had at the shops, varying in price from 8s. to 30s.,
according to size and quality. We have used one of
Sotheran's No. 2 for several years, and have found it
to answer the purpose to perfection. For information
respecting filtration on a large scale, see Supply op
Water, Vol. I., page 472.

Tests for IKa/fi'.— Mechanical impurities, or such as
are suspended in water, may be removed by rest or
filtration, as above described; but chemical impurities,
or such as are dissolved, poss through the filter,
which has no power of separating them. When lime
in any form is present, oxalic acid or oxalate of ammo-
nia will cause a white precipitate. Carbonate of iron
may be detected by the tincture of galls, which causes
a black precipitate. If copper is present, the blade of
a penknife dipped in the water will assume a yellowish
coating. Vegetable and animal matter may be detected
by sulphuric acid, which blackens the water.

SMALL DOMESTIC MANUFACTURES.

The attempt to make all sorts of articles for domestic
use is now far from economical, as the time and ex-
pense bestowed upon them are often of greater amount

HOUSEHOLD HINTS.

tlian what would buy the thing* ready-made from
shops. We therefore confine our direction* to articloa
which may require to be manufactured in f'lmilicg at
a great distance from towns, or for the families of emi-
grants in remote settlements.

Blacking for Shoes. — There are many ways of making
this article, the chief ingredients employed being ivory-
black, vinegar or sour beer, sugar, a little sweet-oil,
and oil of vitriol. A good blacking may bo made as
follows : — Mix three ounces of ivory-black, two ounces
of treacle, % tablespoonful of sweet-oil, one ounce of
vitriol, one ounce of gum-arabic dissolved in water,
and a pint of vinegar.

For Blacking-Balls, mix one pound of ivory-black,
one pound of lampblack, a quarter of a pound of gum-
arabic dissolved in water, six ounces of brown sugar,
half an ounce of melted glue, and a quart of water ;
and make into balls. A fine blacking for dress-shoes
may be made by well beating two eggs, and adding a
tablespoonful of spirits of wine, a lump of sugar, and
ivory-black to thicken. This blacking may also be
used for restoring the black leathern seats and backs of
chairs, &c. It should be laid on and polished as other
blacking, and then left a day to harden.

Boot-top Liquid. — Dissolve in a quart of water one
ounce of oxalic acid, and the same of white vitriol ;
with which sponge the leather, previously washed with
water; then wash off the composition with water, and
dry. This mixture is for white tops. For brown, mix
one ounce of oxalic acid, one ounce of spirits of salts,
a scruple of cochineal bruised, and a pint of boiling
water, and use as above. These mixtures should be
labelled ' poison.' For brown tops, also, mix with a

Eint of skimmed milk half an ounce of spirits of salts,
alf an ounce of spirits of red lavender, one ounce of
gum-arabic dissolved in water, and the juice of two
lemons; keep the mixture closely corked, sponge the
tops when dry, and polish them with a brush.

Blacking for Harness. — Melt two ounces of mutton-
suet with six ounces of bees'-wax ; add six ounces of
sugar -candy, two ounces of soft soap dissolved in
water, and one ounce of indigo finely powdered ; and
when melted and well mixed, add a gill cf turpentine.
Lay it on the harness with a sponge, and polish oif
with a brush.

Paste is useful in a house fo'* papering walls, cup-
boards, boxes, labelling, &c. A very useful composi-
tion of this sort is made of flour in the usual way, but
rather thick, with a proportion of brown sugar, and a
small quantity of corrosive sublimate. The use of the
sugar is to keep it flexible, so as to prevent its scaling
off from smooth surfaces; and that of the corrosive
sublimate — independently of preserving it from insects
— as an effectual check against its fermentation. This
salt does not, however, prevent the formation of Aiiouldi-
ness; but a drop or two of oil of lavender, peppermint,
or aniseed, is a complete security against this.

Waterproof stuff for Shoes. — In winter, or during wet
weather, shoes may be rendered durable by applying to
the soles and seams a composition made of the following
materials : — Half a pint of unboiled linseed-oil, two
tablespoonfuls of turpentine, one ounce of bees'-wax,
and a quarter of an ounce of Burgundy pitch. Melt the
whole together, and apply with a brush before the fire.
Repeat the application till the soles will absorb no
more. Neats'-foot oil alone will be found an excellent
preservative of shoes in wet weather. Since the intro-
duction of caoutchouc and gutta-percha, waterproof
stuff for shoes and goloshes can be readily obtained at
the shops, fitted or worked up in the household. Any
one may sole his own shoes for a shilling.

Bottle Wax. — A good kind of bottle wax or cement
maybe cheaply made as follows : — Put into an iron ladle
half a pound of rosin, two ounces of bees'-wax, and when
melted over the fire, stir in Venetian red, lampblack,
or other colouring; and apply while hot. If kept for
after-use, melt with a candle, as usual, when applied.

Potato-Starch. — Wash and peel a gallon of good pota-
toes, grate them into a, pail of water, stir frequently, and

then let them settle. On the following day the starch
will be found at the bottom of the pail ; when pour off
the water, add fresh, ;tir as before, and let it subside
a second time j when poijr off the water, and dry the
sediment in the sun or a slow oven. An excellent starch
may also be made by setti' ' ^ a cool place the water
in which rice has been boik hough not in a cloth),
which wi?l in twenty -four hours become a strong starch,
J'ota*Ae».— Settler* in the backwoods of America, or
other woody regions, have an opportunity of manufnc-
turing potashes, an article of creat use, and considerable
value. A vast quantity of this substance is annually
made in Canada, and exported to Great IJritain. Pot-
ashes aro made from the ashes of burnt trees. In
burning timber to clear the land, the ashes are care-
fully preserved, and put in barrels, or other vessels,
with holes in the bottom ; and water being poured over
them, a liquid or alkali is run off. This lye being boiled
in large boilers, the watery particles evaporate, and
leave what is called black salts, a sort of residuum,
which, when heated to a high degree, becomes fused,
and finally, when cool, assumes the character of pot-
ash. By these potashes the Canadians make their own
soap: the lye of a barrel of ashes, boiled along with ten
pounds of tallow, till it is of a proper consistence, pro-
duces about forty pounds of very good soft soap. It is
related, that when the land has been covered with heavy
timber of a hard nature, there is such a quantity of
ashes produced, that their value is suflicient to pay for
the clearing of the land.

Ash-BaUs. — This term is applied to the ashes of va-
rious plants, especially ferns, moistened, and made into
lumps or balls. They are used as a substitute for soap,
and to clean painting.

Dyes. — The most simple rule for dyeing is, to put the
dye into very hot water, and when well mixed, to pass
the stuff through it until it sufficiently imbibes the
colour, but on no account to squeeze it: it should then
be hung up, and when cold, plunged twice into soft
water, and then into hard water with a little alum
dissolved in it : the stuff may then be again hung up,
and when nearly dry, ironed or pressed. Most colours
are made brighter by the addition of a little cream of
tartar, and darker by pearl-ash. Dyes may be pur-
chased ready prepared. We would recommend that
all ordinary dyeing, and particularly when fancy or
delicate colours are required, should be consigned to
the hands of the professed dyer; and dyeing of a coarse
khid only be done at home. In such cases, brawn may
be produced from a decoction of birch bark; and black
from logwood with green copperas (see article Che-
mistry Applied to the Arts).

Bleaching small Articles. — The principles and practice
of bleaching cotton, linen, and woollen on a large scale
have been detailed in Nos. 20 and 22; we here allude
to minor articles, which may be whitened in the laundry
or kitchen. Silk is bleached by boiling it in white
soap and water, to remove the natural yellow varnish
which covers it; after which it is subjected to repeated
rinsings. Articles that are required to be very white —
as gloves, stockings, &c. — are also submitted to the
action of sulphurous acid, or to the fumes of burning
sulphur. Straw is also bleached by the fumes of sul-
phur; hence arises the sulphurous smell emitted by
new strawhats and bonnets. They may, however, be
bleached in a much better manner by the use of a
little oxalic acid, or chloride of lime. Printed books,
engravings, &c. may be whitened by first subjecting
them to the action of weak chloride of lime-water; next
to water soured with sulphuric acid; and lastly, to
pure water, to remove any adhering acid or chlorine.

Clothes-Balls for removing grease and stains may be
made as follows: — FuUers'-earth, two pounds; curd
soap, one pound; ox-gall suflicient to make a stiff
dough, with which form balls. Or — pipeclay, two
pounds ; fullers'- earth, one pound ; whiting, one-half
pound; white pepper, three ounces: mix with water.
What are called Scounng-Balls are either composed of
soft Boap and fullers'- earth in equal proportions, beaten

779

CHAMDBItS'B INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLfi.

Well tnf);ether, and fui-nied into balls; or of curd loap,
uil of turpentine, and ox-gall, in tbe proportion of half
a pound of loaii to une ounce of tbe turpentine and one
niinco (if tlie gall. Wiuh-DalU, again, are generally
made of whito curd or VVindaor soup beaten up with
bole or ochre; the niottlod colouri being produced by
uiing a mixture of red, blue, or other coloured boles.

Cloth, Ittcombtuliblt. — Cotton and linen fabric* ])re-
pared with a solution of sul-annnoniao, or phosphate of
ammonia, may be placed in contact with ignited bodies
without danger : they will carbonise, but not iniiume.
Solutions of alum, sea-salt, and the like, are used for
the same purpose. If, for instatice, an ounce or half
an ounce of alum or sal-ammoniac be added to the last
water used in rinsing a lady's dress, it would render it
incombustible, or at least go little cumbustiblo that it
would not take fire readily; and if it did, would be
consumed without flame.

Temperance Drinks. — The simplest beverage of a
cooling and pleasing quality, which contains no intoxi-
cating fluid, is lemonade ; this may be very easily made
by pouring boiling water on sliced lemons, and sweeten-
ing with sugar to taste. Lemons, however, are not
always to be procured, and in such a case citric acid,
or cream of tartar, may be employed instead. Superior
lemonade is made with lump-sugar. — Uingcr-lker may
bo made as follows : — Tak'i of lump sugar three pounds,
bruised ginger two ounces, cream of tartar one ounce,
cue or two lemons sliced, boiling water four gallons,
and yeast eight ounces. Let tbe whole stand to work
in a cask for four days, and then bottle oiT for use. —
Spruce-Beer, which is a pleasant beverage when well
prepared, und possesses slightly diuretic properties,
may be prepared aa follows: — Water, ten gallons;
sugar, ten pounds; essence of spruce, quarter of a
pound ; yeast, half a pint. Dissolve the sugar and
essence of spruce in the water, previously warmed ;
then allow it to cool a little, and odd the yeast as in
making gingcr-beur : bottle immediately.

Treacle-Beer is a cheap drink, which may be made aa
follows : — Boil as nmch water as will fill twelve com-
mon quart bottles ; and to it add one pound of treacle,
or more, according to taste. When the treacle is dis-
solved, take tbe pot from the fire, and let the solution
cool. When lukewarm, put into it half a gill of yeast.
As soon as it is cold, bottle it, but do not put in the
corks till next morning, when the yeast will have
wrought over the top of the buttles. Let it stand in a
cool place for two or three days, when it will be fit for
use. Unless care is taken as to the proportion of yeast,
and keeping cool, also to corking tightly, the bottles
may burst, which is a serious loss to a poor family.

MISCELLANEOUS HINTS AND HECIPES.

To remove a tight Stopper. — It frequently happens
that the stopper of a glass bottle or decanter becomes
fixed in its place so firmly, that the exertion of force
suflicient to withdraw it would endanger the vessel.
In this case, if a cloth be wetted with hot water, and
applied to the neck of the bottle, the glass will expand,
and the neck will be enlarged, so as to allow the stop-
per to be easily withdrawn. Where hot water is not
at hand, thu same result may be produced by the fric-
tion of a handkerchief or strip of flannel, passed round
the neck of the bottle, and drawn backwards and for-
wards with a see-saw motion.

Ad/tetive Plaster. — A very useful adhesive plaster
may be made by melting together -five parts of common
or litharge plaster with one part of whito resin. The
mixture, when well incorporated, is spread on thin
strips of linen >vith a spatula or table-knife. Such a
plaster may be advantageously employed for keeping
on other dressings, where ligatures and bandages might
be objectionable.

Cutting Olass. — Panes or flat pieces of glass may be
divided, when a glazier's diamond is not at hand, by
making a notch with a file, and carrying a piece of
hot charcoal in the line in which it is wished the frac-
ture should proceed. The charcoal must be kept alive
7U0

by blowing upon it with the breath. A red-hot iron
will also do. Vials, bottle-necks, and the like, may
be cut across by looping a cord round the part where
the fracture is wanted, drawing the cord rapidly back-
wards and forwards till a considerable degree of heat
is produced by the friction, and then immersing in cold
water up to the line of fracture. The rapid and un-
equal contraction of the pai'ts will cause the glass to
snap asunder.

Mending China and Earthenware. — When holes aro
required to be drilled in china or earthenware for the
purpose of riveting it when broken, procure a three-
cornered file, and harden it completely by making the
end red-hot, and plunging it into cold water; then grind
the point quite snarp on a grindstone, and afterwards
on an oil-stone or hone. With the point of this tool
pick repeatedly on the spot to be bored, taking care
not to use too much violence, lest the object should
break. In a short time, or in a few minutes, by a con-
tinuance of the operation, a small conical hole will be
forced out, lot bigger than a pin's head, but which
may afterwards be widened by introducing the point,
and working the file round. Kivets of IcmI are those
generally employed in this kind of operation.

The best cement for broken china or glass is that
sold in the shops under the name of diamond cement,
which is colourless, and resists moisture. This is made
by soaking isiuglas in water till it is ioft^ , and then
dissolving it in proof spirit. Add to this % little gum-
ammoniac, or galbanuiu and mastic, both l.'isolved in
as little alcohol as possible. When the couient is to
be used, it must be gently liquefied by piiijiiij the vial
containing it in boiling water. The vial must be
well closed by a good cork, not a glass-stopper, as ithis
may become fixed. It is applied to the ^rokeu edges
witn a camel-hair pencil.

When the objects aro not to be exposed to mointure,
white of egg aloi.e, or mixed with finely-sifted quick-
lime, will answer pretty well. ShoU-lac dissolved in
spirits of wine is better. A very strong cement fur
earthen war«j is made by boiling slices of skim -milk -
cheese with water into a pMte, and then grinding it
with quicklime in a ii<»>'^le mortar, or on a slab with
a mallet. [For further ii.iormation on the subjects of
lutes and cements, see No. 21]

To remove Oi'VJit cv Fur from Teapots. — Put a gond-
sized lump of common soda into the pot, fill it quite
full with boiling water; let it remain in the whole of a
day and night; and, to keep the water hot for a time,
set the pot near the fire. Should a teapot spout have
1>ecoine furred, when the water has been in for a suffi-
cient length of time, put a skewer or knitting-needle
into the spout to clean it. It will afterwards be neces-
sary to scald and well wash the pot, to prevent any
taste of soda, and to remove the fur, which will then
come away easily.

Bronzing, or the process of imparting to wood, iron,
stucco, or other material, the appearance of bronze,
may be readily practised by attending to the directions
given in Vol. 1., p. 378.

Sympathetio Inks. — These are preparations used for
writing on paper, the marks of which are invisible until
acted upon by some re-agent. Thoy are frequently
employed in secret or playful corrospondence. Dy
heating the paper until it is nearly scorched, they may
be rendered visible. The following may serve as speci-
mens : —

1. Sulphate of copper and sal-ammoniac, equal
parts, dissolved in water — writes colourless, but turns
yellow when heated. 2. Onion juice — like the last. 3.
A weak infusion of galls — turns black when moistened
with weak copperas water. 4. A weak solution of sul-
phate of iron — turns blue when moistened with a weak
solution of prussiate of potash — black with infusion of
galls. 5. The diluted solutions of nitrate of silver and
terchloride of gold — darken when exposed to the sun-
light. G. Aquafortis, spirits of salts, oil of vitriol, com-
mon salt, or saltpetre, dissolved in a large quantity of
water — turn yellow or brown when heated. 7. Solution

IIOUWEHOLD HINTS.

of iiUromurlKto of vobalt — turni jjreon wlicn hcnted,
niul diiAppcnn ngiiiii nn conliiig. )). .Solution of iicoiate
of cobalt, to which a little iiitro hai been added — bo-
comei roM-coloured when heated, and diiappeurs again
on being cooled.

IncorrodibU nnd InHtliblc /n<f.— Genuine aiphaltum,
one part; oil of tuipentine, four narti; diiaolvo, and
add lamp-black or Dla«:k-l«ad to bring it to a proper
coniiitcnce. Or — atphaltum, one part; oil of turpen-
tine, four parte; diwoWe, and colour with printer's ink,
which any printer will sell by way of favour. Those
inks supply a cheap and excellent matcriiil fur mark-
ing linen, ho. They are very permanent. They shoiild
be employed with stamps or types, or with the thin
brass plates with letters cut therein. This method of
marking is neater and easier than with the brush or pen.
The marking-inks of the shops generally consist of pre-
paratiors of nitrate of silver; but though capable of
withstanding ordinary washing, are by no means proof
against chlorine and ammoni». One of these inks may
be prepared as followa : — Nitrate of silver, one to two
drachms; water, J of an ounce; dissolve; add as much
of the strongest ammonia water as will dissolve the
precipitate formed on its first addition ; then further,
add mucilage one or two drachms, and a little sap-
green to colour. Writing executed with this ink turns
black on being passed over a hot Italian-iron.

Common Inns and Wrilitig Fhmh, for which thore
are so many receipts, can be obtained so cheaply, and
of such excellent quality, that it would be waste of
time to attempt their manufacture for domestic use.
An excellent ink, suitable for writing with steel pens,
which it does not corrode, may be made of the follow-
ing articles : — Sixty grains of caustic soda, a pint of
water, and as much Indian ink as you think fit for
making a proper blackness. Copying ink is prepared
by adding a little sugar to ordinary black ink.

Writing rendered illegible by age may be restored by
moistening it by nieans of a feather with an infusion
of galls, or a solution of prussiate of potash slightly
acidulated with muriatic acid, observing so to apply
the liquid as to prevent the ink from spreading.

Lucifers may be made by first dipping thin slips of
fir- wood in melted sulphur, and then tipping them
with a mixture of sulphuret of antimony and chlorate
of potash (both in fine powder), made into a paste
with a solution of gum. They are inflamed by friction
against a piece of emery or sand-paper. They are now
sold so cheaply, that it would be folly to attempt their
manufacture on a smaM scale.

CABINET COLLECTIONS.

Taxidermy — so called from the Greek tarit, order,
and derma, skin — is the art of arranging, preparing,
and preserving the skins and other exuvios of animals,
so as to represent their natural appearance. It em-
braces the entire art of preparing the skins of quadru-
peds, the stuffing of birds and fishes, the mounting of
insects, the cleaning and arranging of shells and
zoophytes — in fine, the preparation and preservation of
specimens in every department of the anmial kingdom.
Much of this lies of course beyond the circle of do-
mestic economy, but many persons who have cabinets
BO arranged, allow them to fall into ruin and disorder
for want of proper cleaning and attention. — Skins of
quadrupeds and birds, whether mounted or not, should
bo kept free from dust either by being placed in
cabinets, in glass - cases, or under glass shades ;
when dusty, use bellows, and handle as little as pos-
sible. Arsenical soap, corrosive sublimate, and oil of
turpentine, are the preservative preparations; and once
a skin is thoroughly dried, it may be preserved from
putrefaction by being kept dry afterwards. Small bags
of camphor laid in cabinets assist in warding off moths
and other insects; but even with this the specimens
will require to be occasionally examined. Should in-
sects have commenced their attacks on any specimen,
the only chance of further preservation is to bake it
thoroughly in an oven.— JSones which have lost their

whiteness may h^Tr■ it < '<(<m«<1 by hnn. mii for (pn
or twelve hours in u .. tiun uf cli' iiia of lime '

and if oily, a little sotln n'A be add' <> the soli
tion. To obtain the akcleioii »f a tnin unlmal, bu
the carcase with honev, and lay it near t)i<^ nr-~'
ants or wasps; in a few days it will be Ik'ui.;
picked. — Inieeli, which are usually mounted i
in flat trays with cork bottoms, or are kept in
boxes, test-tubes, and quills, require very dri
handling. Once in possession of a collection, k><|
it dry and free from dust, and disturb the speci-
mens as little as possible, as they are not only ex-
tremely fragile, but are apt to lose the rich downy
covering of their wings, which gives them colour and
beauty. To ward off the attacks of mites, keep a
supplpr of camphor, or sponge dipped in spirit of turpen-
tine, m each trav ; and if these harpies should appear,
bake before a slow fire, or take equal parts of oil of
anise, oil of thyme, and alcohol ; mix, and apply a
drop to the infectcl specimen. When large-bodietl
specimens become greasy, dip in spirits of turpentine,
and dry with calcined magnesia, which can afterwards
be blown off. — In collecting shells, kill the animal by
gradual immersion in hot water; and remove it with
the point of a knife or crooked pin. Ketain the oper-
culum of univalves; and tie the bivalves together after
the animal has been removed. Marine shells should be
steeped in fresh-water for several hours, to remove all
saline matter which would afterwards deliquesce. Re-
move all extraneous matter, as sea-weed, serpulic, and
the like, with the knife or brush. Dead shells, or those
picked up along shore, have often a tarnished appear-
ance; this may be remedied by applying a little olive-
oil with a brush. Polishing and whitening with acids
is a barbarity worthy only of the dealer in curiosities.
No shell is fit for a cabinet after such mutilation.
Shells may be either kept in trays, divided into nume-
rous compartments, or attached to cards with a little
gum. In the latter case it requires two specimens — ono
to exhibit the front, the other the back of the shell.
Minute and fragile shells are best preserved in glass
tubes — common test-tubes.

Minerals are kept with little trouble, if dust be ex-
cluded. Never lift a fino specimen with the naked
hand; stains of grease and perspiration are intolerable.
Uust always with a pair of bellows. Certain species
will endure washing; in other cases the appearance
may be restored by fracturing anew.

Jbrying Flowers as Specimens. — A writer in the ' New
Monthly Belle Assemblue' recommends the following
plan : — ' As pressure is necessary for drying flowers,
the first thing requisite is to construct a press, which
in this instance is composed of two of the thickest
milled boards, each twenty inches in length and four-
teen in width ; also two leathern straps with buckles,
and holes at intervals, to allow for the varying bulk of
the press; then procure two quires of coarse sugar-
paper, which can be purchased at a grocer's. After
having selected the most perfect specimens of flowers,
with their stems, lower leaves, and roots, when prac-
ticable — and carefully observe that the plants be free
from dew or moisture — lay every portion out nicely on
one of the coarse sheets, being careful at the same
time that one part of the specimen does not interfere
with another : the leaf should be filled. Allow several
sheets to intervene before another sheet is occupied by
specimens. If the flowers be delicate, their colour will
be better preserved by placing blotting-paper between
the folds to absorb the moisture. The plants are now
ready to be put into the press, the straps forming the
presbure, which, however, must not be great at first.
It is necessary to remove the flowers every day, and
dry the papers at the fire. When the specimens are
quite dry, they should be taken from the press, and
each plant separately sewed or fastened with gum on
to half-sheets of foolscap ; they may then be arranged
in their natural orders, with the Linneean class and
order, and their place of growth, appended in the
lower corners of the paper. The sheets thus classed

781

CIIAUDEIIS'B INTORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

make up the Kcrbarlum or Ifmtu* Siceut, Mid ftre
kept in tra/i, boxea, or in n oabinut ooiiitruotod for the
purpoM, ill » dry room, whiiu tboy will bo roaUy fur
future reference, which if the | riiK'i|ial um to bu du-
rived from niukinK n collection of nlunti.' Thoto who
C»n nli'ord the oxponie, will find ' uotiinicnl paper' (u
thick, alinorbent paper) the beat fur dr^inu thuir aiHsci-
inoni; thuy will alio flnd a bii^ uf imall-ihut a more
delicate luid otHcient proiier than either itrape, icrewi,
or weijfhti. In every uaio the plant* ou^ht to bo
thorou)(hly dried- that ia, deprived uf their natural
tap — buforo they are Anally aatortcd in the Hortui
Hicoui: if not, they will aoon ^et mouldy, loau their
huoa, and bvcumn a bundle of uaeleit rubbiah.

Murine J'laiiln (fuel and al);ic) mav bo prcaorved in a
lumcwhat aimilur luaiincr. After aolectintf the froahoft
■pccimena either frum the rucka un whicii thov fiiovr,
or front tho beach on which they are uenerally pro-
fuauly acuttcrcd aller a atorni, they ou^ut to ho well
■oakud in fresh-water, to remove nM aalino particlea.
Tbia being done, they ahould next be tloatcd in a
broad ahulluw veaael, and tho paper on which they
are to bo placed carefully inaertud under them —
gnidually raiain;; tho paper, and diapoainj; their fila-
menta in u natural manner with the puint of a bodkin
or knitting-needle. Thia operation will bo i^roatly
facilitated by placing the paper ou a thin board or
plate of aheet-iron, ao ai to keep it imootli and level.
Nvhen a apccimcn has boon properly spread out, it
should bo luid aaide to dry on a Hat board or table;
and tinally aubjecled to proper pressure between milled
boards. The natural mucus of the specimens will, in
general, be aufiiciunt to attach them firmly to tho paper:
if not, a slight tuuch of gum from a hair-pencil will
answer the purpose. 8oa-weeds neatly mounted and
labelled make a very beautiful and instructive addition
to the cabinet.

Presvminy Flowert Frcuh. — Flowers may bo preserved
in a fresh state fur a considerable time by keeping
them in a moist atmosphere. In the ' Oardeners'
Chronicle' the following appear on this subject: — ' It is
now eighteen years ago since we tirst saw, in the draw-
ing-room of a gentleman, iu the hot dry weather of the
dog-days, llowurs i>reserved day after day in all their
freshness by the following simple contrivance : — A flat
dish of porcelain had water poured into it. In the
water a vase of flowers was set; over the whole a bell-
glans was placed with its rim in the water. This was a
" Ward's ciise" in principle, although diflbrent in its
construction. The air that eurrounded the flowers
being confined beneath the bell-glass, was constantly
moist with the water that rose into it in the form of
va]>our. As fast as the water was condensed, it ran
down the sides of the bell-glass back into the dish; and
if means had been taken to enclose tho water on the
outside of tho bell-glass, so as to prevent its evaporat-
ing into tho air uf tho sitting-room, the atmosphero
around the flowers would have remained continually
damp. What is tho explanation of this) Do the
flowers feed on tho viewless vapour that surrounds
them t Perhaps they do; but the great cause of their
preserving their freshness is to bo sought in another
fact. Whon flowers are brought into a sitting-room,
they fade because of the dryness of the air. The air of
a sitting-room is usually something drier than that of
the garden, and always much more so than that of a
good greenhouse or stove. Flowers, when gathered, are
cut off from the supply uf moisture collected for them
by their roots, and their mutilated stems are far from
having so great a power of sucking up fluids as the
roots have. If, then, with diminished powers of feed-
ing, they are exposed to augmented perspiration, as is
the case in a dry sitting-room, it is evident that tho
balance of gain on tho one hand by the roots, and of
loss on the other hand by their whole surface, cannot
be maintained. The result can only be their destruc-
tion. Now, to place thcni in a damp atmosphere is to
restore this balance ; because, if their power of sucking
by their wounded euda is dimiuished, lo is their power
782

of perspirins; for a damp atmoaphero will rob thetii nf
no water- hence they maintain their (Veahnvas. Thu
only ditrurenco between plant* in a " Wanl'a case" Kud
flowera in th« little apparatua juat d«a<:ribcd is this—
that the former ia intended for planta to grow in for a
conaidurable apace of time, while tho latter ia merely
for their preaervation for a few days; and that the air
which aurrouiids the flower* is always charged with the
aaiiie ({uantity of vapour, will vary with the oircuin-
atuncea, and at the will of him who ha* the manage-
ment uf it. We reuomnirnd thoie who love to aoo
freah tluwers in their aitting-room* in dry >v«ather to
procure it. Tho experiment can bo tried by inaertinc
a tumbler over a ruae-bud in a saucer uf water,'

riUUSONAI. KC'O.NOMV — THE rtlll.KT,

Personal cleaning and decoration are the propor duty
at the toilet, which requires regular perfoniiunco daily.
Wo shall apeak first of matter* connected with th<)
gentleman's toilet : —

Mai'i/iy.— Some beards are more hard and difficult
to shave than others, Tho usual plan is to soften them
with soap lather; but this is not sufficient with benrds
which are somewhat stubborn. Wo reconiiiiond all to
try tho following plan : — Hub tho face or board with a
little soap and water with the hand over the basin, and
when pretty well rublied or softened, apply tho lather,
liaise tho lather from warm water, and apply with a
brush. The best kind of ioap for shaving is Handana,
but Windsor is also generally liked. Among the
shaving paste* in voguo the following may be men-
tioiiod ; — 1, White wax, spermaceti, and almond-oil, of
each a quarter ounce; melt, and while warm, beat in two
sifuares of Windsor soap, previously reduced to a pnatc,
with rose-water, 'i. Melt together a half-ounce cnou of
spermaceti, white wax, and oil of almonds; boat it up
with three ounces of tho best white soap, and a sufli-
cient quantity of Kau do Cologno. Although warm
water is most agreeable and suitable for shaving with,
it is advantageous for every one to accustom himself
to shaving with cold water, as it will render him inde-
pendent of such ouistauce when travelling, or in cases
of emergency.

It is of no use going to a great expense in purchasing
razors. A razor of the best kind may be had for from
four to eight shillings; and as their tempering is very
much a matter of chance, sometimes a first-rate razor
may be had for two or three shillings. Indeed one of
the very best razors now in tho market is Kogors' ' old
Knglisl.,' which may bo had for three Bhillin/(s and
sixpence. Supposing a sharp and good razor to be pro-
cured, it may lust a whole lifetime with ordinary care.
We have used one for twenty years, and it is still as
good as new. Some persons prefer keeping six or seven
razors, and changing them daily; but in this there is
no absolute utility. Razors become blunt muro from
bad management than fair work in shaving. When
to bo used, dip the razor in hot water, for this adds
keenness to tho edge; and before putting it away, wash
tho razor gently, to remove all impurities, Uo not
wipe it with or upon jiapor, for that spoils the edge;
wipe it only with a fine rag. Before putting it away
in its case, give it a turn or two on a strop, Several
kinds of strojw are now offered for sale; and all, very
properly, are mounted on hard board. The best we
have seen is an American invention, with four sides of
difl'erent degrees of fineness, from the hone to smooth
stropping. In any case, take care always to draw the
razor smoothly and flatly from heel to point along the
strop. Do not draw first one way and then push another.
In general, ono or two turns will be enough. Never
leave your razors in drawers or cases which arc acces-
sible to servants or children. By locking them up,
you will keep them in better ordor than by all the
other means you employ.

Razor Pattes. — This is the term applied to certain
compositions applied to razor-strops to give them the
necessary whetting surface. The following are recom-
mended : — 1. Ornery reduced to au impalpable powder,

HOUSEHOLD H1NT8.

two parti) ipermwetl ointment, f>n«i)ftrt; mix tovitthtr,
aikI ruh It ovor the ilroi. ■>. .towoUeri' roiifte, bluck-
Icail, and ■net, tiiixod in equal parti. .1. I'roparBil

Jiiltty-powilir, (iii(. mice ; powtleretl oxi»llc aciil, "no-
ourth oiini-c, p*., i| ga,m, <«ieiity jfraiin; make it
into a itill pa*«« wnK m»m*-i, ami evenly ami thinly
■prea<l It nror the «tl■'^ Wnfc very littlo IViitioii, thU
lait ii Mid to tfivn ft flnc eilge to the raxor, and iti
efficiency ii itlll increaiwl by bein^ niointcned.

Out ill tihavitui.- The bluodiii|( may be ut oniM) cfFec-
tually itnpiioci l>y plmnng on the wound a 11111111 por-
tion of wool (iiiici a litiayer hut. vVe hare known t-aHet
in which bice I inf.' from »ory ierioui wonndi have been
itopped by tin; pplication ol hat itutf, or fine lloti,
when all other 1 -am failed.

The Teelh. I'lie cleiiniiiK and proper management of
the teeth \» the nioit ditflcult operation of tbo toilet.
Whether arising from heat of the itt>maoh or other con-
ititutioiiul uauiei, the touth of t<\)no perioni are much
more liable to become iliicoloured and decay than
otheri. In K^neral, even in the wont caiei, much
niipht be done in youth to prevent future deteriora-
tion of tooth ; but children are if^norant, and parenti
are lamentably carolom on Ihii important matter of
porional economy, and remedies often rocjuirc to bo ap-
plied when ton late. Parents desirous of seeing their
children grow ui> with good teeth, should causu them to
bo oleanwl with scrupulous regularity daily, though
only with a brush and tepid water. If tho teeth appear
crowded, 10 that there is a fear of ono tooth shooting
over another, a dentist ought by all meani to be em-
ployed to thin the row, and allow all to grow straight.
The daily cleaning of tho teeth should tako place
every morning after washing the face, Kmploy in pre-
ferenco tepid water and a moderately hard brush,
taking care not to injure the gums by tho friction.
Various dentifrices or powders are offered for lale, and
which the opulent have opportunitiei of testing; but
we know of none better than finely-powdered charcoal —
that is, charred wood well grounil in a mortar, and kept
in a box secluded from the air. It nmy bo purchased,
ready for use, at a small price from perfumers, ily
putting a little of this on the wot brush, and rubbing
the teeth with it, impurities and discolorations will be
removed without injuring the enamel. Itinso well
afterwards with clean water. A much stronger den-
tifrice consists of the powder of burnt tobacco; but it
contains silica, or gritty particles of sand, and cannot
be recommended for common use. Indeed all prepara-
tion!, luch as those of chalk, pumice, cuttle-Ash bone,
&c. act mechanically, and aro liable to the same objec-
tion. Chemical solutioni are free from this objection;
but unless their composition is thoroughly known, it is
better to avoid them. In case of foulness or sponginesi
of the gums, powdered rhatanv, cinchona bark, and
catechu, on account of their astringent propertiei, have
been found to be useful.

It is said to have been lately ascertained, by mi-
croscopic examination, that the tartar or crtist upmi
teeth ia produced in the same manner as coral, by
certain animalcules. After the tartar, which is a
mere nidus, adheres firmly to the teeth, the ani-
uialculo!, by insinuating themselves between the
teeth and the gum, occasion disease to both; but the
secretion from them is often so offensive, as to conta-
minato the breath. M. La Reaume has made nu-
merous experiments with different mineral, vegetable,
and animal acids, and with alcohol, to ascertain their
effects on the animalcultc, and on their habitation ; and
it is a curious fact, that of all the articles he has em-
ployed, the true vinegar acid (not the pyroligneous
acid, which is now generally sold for it) almost instan-
taneously killed the animalculic, and acted powerfully
to decompose the concretions, so that they were easily
removed by a brush. In order to destroy the animaf-
culee and their eggs, and*to decompose the production
which protects them, M, La Beaume recommends the
teeth to bo brushed every moniing with the rinegar
ficid diluted with rose-water, and immediately af-

terwards to make uw, <<( tho powdered amen • nut
chnrconl, and the tini'turu of rhatany. Tho uno
of the diluted acetic acid every morning will, in thu
oimrse of a feiv days, entirely remove thu tart*;, and
the regular <>niployniont >>f the areca char«')ii«| and
tincture of rhaUn;' evnvv, or every other, morning, will
ettoctually prevent tlio generation of the aniiimi'Mlut';
hut if there Iw tv itroo" diipositton to their production,
ho advises the dilutfd acetic acid tvt lio use! unco a
week, Dentists i'l general oppose tl>o use of an acid,
on tho supnositiou that it is capable of deconi|iosing
the enann'f. ''litis oppoiitioii,' obacrvei l)r (lood,
' arisei from an ignorance of thu gradations of chemical
alHnitios;' all of them, however, very freely uio thu
most potent mineral acids to facilitate thu renu)val of
the tartar in the operation termed scaling. Tho true
vinegar aciil is inuanablo of acting chcmicallv on tho
enamel of tho teeth. We have niaiie trial of tho
vinegar acid, which may l;e ha<l of any chemist, and
found it to Im) as etfuctual as above stutud. Instead of
arcca-imt charcoal, wo use the connnon refined wood
charcoal, which seems to have tho same effect. A lava-
tion of this kind should not bo performed oftener than
twice a week, the tooth-brush and plain tupid water
being used all other times.

The Urenth. — Few things arc more disagrceablo or
ofl'ensivo than a fetid breath. ' Various means,' sayi
tho author of tho ' lOinyclopiedia of Practical Ucceipts,'
' have been proposed to roniovo this annoyance, depend-
ing principally on the administration of aromatics,
which, by their odour, might smother it for a time; but
these require continual repetition, and are liable to inter-
fere with the functions ot digestion. The real cause of
a fetid breath ia cither a diseased stomach or carioui
teeth. When the former is tho case, ap<;ncnts should be
adminiitorod, and if these do not succeed, an emetic may
bo given, followed by a doso of salts o: castor-oil occa-
sionally. When rotten teeth are tho cause, they should
be removed; or, if this be impossible, they should be
kept clean. Foul teeth often cause the breath to smell;
and for thia the use of the brush should be a daily
habit. Occasionally rinsing out the mouth with a littlo
clean water, to which u few drops of chloride of lime,
or chloride of soda, has been added, is an ctrectivo
method. The following lozenges havo also been recom-
mended: — (lum catechu, two ounces; white sugar, four
ounces; orris powder, one ounce; make them into a
paste with mucilage, and add a drop or two of neroli.
( )ne or two may be sucked at pleasure' This, it must
bo observed, only disguises, not remedies tho evil. A
useful wash for carious teeth is made thus: — Chloride
of lime, half an ounce; water, two ounces; agitato well
together in a phial for half an hour; filter and add
spirit, two ounces; rose or orange- flower water, ono
ounce. Use diluted, with water. Another very valu-
able wash for the teeth and gums, consisting of"^ borax
and tincture of myrrh and camphor, is thus prepared : —
Dissolve two ounces of borax in three pints of warm
water; before quite cold, add thereto one teasnoonful of
tincture of myrrh, and one tablcspoonful of^ spirits of
camphor; bottle the mixture for use. One wine glass
of the solution, added to half a pint of tepid water, is
Buflicient for each application.

The Nails. — Keeping the nails of the fingers in order
is a proper duty of the toilet. They should be brushed
with soap and water when washing the hands. While
still wet, or when wiping the hands with the towel, push
back the skin which is apt to grow over the nail, and
thus keep the top of the nails neatly rounded. The
points of the nails should be regularly pared once a
week. For whitening the nails, wo have seen the fol-
lowing mixture recommended: — Two drachms of di-
luted sulphuric acid; one drachm tincture of myrrh;
and four ounces of pure soft water. The nails to be
dipped into thia mixture after the hands have been
thoroughly cleansed with soap and water. Without
adverting to the danger of such preparations, it may
be remarked that the nails have naturally a delicate
flesh or pinkish colour and ihiniug polish, and that to

703

CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOrLE.

vhilen them ia ns alisurJ ns to stain them i/cUoiv aflei-
the fashion of'tlie Orientals.

The Hair. — In a sound and healthy constitution, the
licat preserver and beautifier of the hair is regular
and careful cleaning. Washing, combing, and brushing
are quite sufficient to keep it in proper order ; and
where these fail, no amount of oils, lotions, powders, or
appliances, will remedy the evil. — ' Baldness,' says
the authority above quoted, ' is generally produced by
fever or old age, but is sometimes found in compara-
tively young people enjoying perfect health. When
the hair-bulbs have disappeared, there is no means
known that will restore the hair, notwithstanding the
daily assurances to the contrary by numerous advertising
impostors. When a disposition to baldness exists, or
when the hair falls off in large quantities, the constant
use of the hair-brush, and any emollient oil or pomatum,
scented with some stimulating aromatic, will generally
prove sufficient. Should this not succeed, the head
should be shaved.' — Stray hairs sometimes grow in the
nose and ears tn an uncomfortable extent. Thin or
shorten them with a toilet-scissors; or if it is wished to
remove them — which is not always a very safe plan —
do so smartly with a pair of tweezers. The chemical depi-
latories in use in the fashioi^able world are almost with-
out exception highly' objectidnable preparations, having
the effect not only of removing the hair, but destroying
likewise the vitality of the skin to which they may be
incautiously applied. The majority of them are com-
posed of quicklime, orpiment, and some strong alkali —
substances the name of which may warn parties against
their application. — Hair-dyes are equally objection-
able, and are all only temporary expedients, as the
hair, upon growing, soon leaves an iindyed surface be-
neath. They are principally of two sorts — those into
which litharge and quicklime enter, and those in which
nitrate of silver forms the chief ingredient. Thus to
render the hair instantaneously black we are directed
' to moisten it with a solution of nitrate of silver in
water (1 to 7 or }!), and then with a weak solution of
hydrosulphuret of ammonia ! '

Pomatum. — This is a soft unguent which is valuable

for softening the han^s, and preventing them chopping

in cold dry weather, or for moistening the hair. It was

originally named from its containing apple (pomum,

Latin), and consisted of lard, rose-water, and the pulp

of apples. It now consists of perfumed hogs'-lard, the

apple being omitted. The famed sitltana pomatum is

made as follows : — Melt together half a pound of beef

suet, the same of bears' gr ■ ^c, a., ounce of white wax,

and two ounces of olive-oil and add to it, tied up loosely

in muslin, one ounce of h\ ised cloves, half an ounce

of cinnamon, two bruised tonij lin beans, and four grains

of musk ; strain, and put into pots. The article called

bears' grease, usually sold in the shops, is little else than

perfumed beef-martow; and the many oils offered for

restoring and softening the hair are chiefly olive or

almond-oil, perfumed with different scents. In general,

if the hair be well brushed, no such applications are

necessary, and in most cases they create a scurf on the

head, which it requires considerable trouble to get rid of.

Pomade Divine. — This is a soft and valuable unguent,

possessing a fine aromatic odour. Ur liiddoeg recom-

niends it to be made as follows : — Steep twelve ounces

of beef-man i/W in water ten days (changing the water

occasionally), and then steep it in rose-water. Put it

into a jar with half o' ince of flowers of benjamin,

the same of storax an ' ' ris-root in powder, and two

drachms each of cinii,..aon, nutmeg, and cloves, in

powder. Cover the jar closely, set it in a vessel of

water, and put it on the fire; and when the pomade is

thus melted, strain it for use. As a very small quantity

is ever used at a time, in general it will be found much

more economical to buy a snuiU bottle of it than to

prepare the article.

CM Cream. — This is a simple and cooling ointment,
exceedingly serviceable for rough or chopped hands in
winter, or for keeping the skin soft. It is very easily

made. Take half an ounce of white wax, and put it I c.rercise, and oooii TiiMi-EU,
7U '

into a small bnsin, with two ounces of nlmond-oil.
Place the basin by tho side of the fire till thu wa.\ in
dissolved in the oil. When quite melted, add two ounces
of rose-water. This nmst be done very slowly, little
by little ; and as you pour it in, beat the mixture
smartly with a fork to make the water iucori)oratc.
When all is incorporated, the cold cream is complete,
and you may pour it into jars for future use. This
cold cream is much better than that which is usually
sold in shops, and which is too frequently made of in-
ferior ingredients. — Bears' -Grease, which possesses no
virtue or superiority over other animal fat, has rather
an unpleasant odour, and is always sold (when sold at
all) disguised with perfumes. A factitious article may
be prepared as follows: — Ilogs'-lard, sixteen ounces;
flowers of benzoin and palm-oil, of each one-half ounce.
Melt together until combined, and stir till cold. This
mixture is said to keep long without becoming rancid,
and may be scented at pleasure.

A very fragrant Lavendcr-Water may be prepared by
mixing two ounces of English oil of lavender, one ounce
of essence of ambergris, one pint of Eau de Cologne, and
one quart of rectified spirit.

Spermaceti Ointment.- — This is a cooling and healing
ointment for wounds. Take a quarter of an ounce of
white wax, and half an ounce of spermaceti (which is
a hard white material), and put them in a small basin
with two ounces of almond-oil. Place the basin by
the side of the fire till the wax and spermaceti are
dissolved. When cold, the ointment is ready for use.
This is an article which it is also much better to make
than to purchase. When you make it yourself, you
know that it has no irritating or inferior materials in it.
The Feet — Corns. — To keep the feet in a proper con-
dition, they should be frequently soaked and well
washed. At these times, the nails of the toes should
be pared, and prevented from growing into the flesh.
Corns are the most troublesome evils connected with
the feet. They are of two kinds — soft and hard. Soft
corns are those which grow between the toes. They
may be easily removed by applying ivy leaf steeped in
vinegar ; if the corn be very painful, change the piece
of ivy leaf every morning. The leaf may be steeped
for one or two days before using. Hard corns, which
grow on the outside of the toes, are caused by friction
from the shoes ; and we know of nothing so likely to
prevent them as easy soft shoes and very frequent soak-
ing of the feet in warm water. Every method of ex-
tracting corns seems but to afford temporary relief, and
never will be attended with complete success unless at-
tention is paid to the shoes. It is very dangerous to
cut corns too deep, on account of the multiplicity of
nerves running in every direction of the toes. Caustic,
or strong acids, have the desired effect in removing
corns, but their use should be committed to the hands
of a skilful surgeon. — The bunion, or swelling on the
ball of the great toe, is produced by the same cause
as the corn — pressure and irritation by friction. The
treatment recommende<l for corns will succeed in eases
of bunions; but in consequence of the greater exten-
sion of the disease, the cure of course is more tedious.
When a bunion is commencing, it may be effectually
stopped by poulticing, and then opening with a lancet;
but this must be committed to the hands of a surgical
attendant.— For chililain.s. Sir A. Cooper has recom-
mended the following liniment : — One ounce of cam-
phor '■■ed spirits of wine, half an ounce of liquid sub-
acetate of lead; mix, and apply in the usual way three
or four times a day.

Cosmetics. — These consist of washes and pastes for
improving the skin, ivnd are in general highly objection-
able; for the greater number contain poisonous ingre-
dients, and while removing from the surface any dis-
coloration, drive thu disease inward, and therefore do
much more harm than good. Lotions for pimples,
freckle-washes, milk of roses, rouge, and all such trash,
we studiously discommend. The best of all purifiers
is water with a cloth; thu best beautifiers are health.

if nlmoml-oil.

ill tho wax in

[idd two ounces

y fllowly, little

t the mixture

jr jucorpornte.

im 18 complete,

uro use. This

liich ia usually

ly made of in-

:h possesses no

fat, has rather

(when sold at

lous article may

sixteen ounces;

one-half ounce.

till cold. This

)ecoming rancid,

be prepared by
■ender, one ounce
u de Cologne, and

ling and healing
T of an ounce of
rmaceti (which is
L in a small basin
[ice the basin by
d spermaceti are
is ready for use.
ch better to make
e it yourself, you
or materials in it.
it in a proper con-
soaked and well
of the toes should
ng into the flesh,
ils connected with
ift and hard. Soft
n the toes. They
Svy leaf steeped in
1, change the piece
laf may be steeped
Hard corns, which
3 caused by friction
othjng so likely to
very frequent soak-
rery method of ex-
inporary relief, and
te success unless at-
9 very dangerous to
the multiplicity of
F the toes. Caustic,
effect in removing
mitted to tho hands
or swelling on tho
by the same cause
in by friction. The
will succeed in cases
• the greater exten-
irse is more tedious.
) may be effectually
ening with a lancet;
hands of a surgical
Cooper has recom-
-One ounce of cam-
ounce of liquid sub-
1 the usual way three

ishes and pastes for
eral highly objection-
;ain poisonous ingre-
the surface any dis-
ird, and therefore do
Lotions for pimples,
e,and all such trash,
' best of all purifiers
leautifiers are health.

INDEX, AND GLOSSARY OF TERMS.

*^* The Figures in the columns indicate the pagca of the Text In which the particular term or subject is fully oxplained.

Abatement, in heraldry, symbols of disgrace introduced
into arms, as in the case of bastardy, cowardice, and
the like; in law, a plea of abatement is pleaded to
a declaration, writ, and so forth, on account of some
defect in form.

AbbreTJation (Lat. brevis, short), a term applied to
certain processes of abridgment in arithmetic; in
music, a stroke which, placed over or under a note,
divides it into quavers, if there be only one — if two,
into semiquavers — and if three, into demisemiqua-
Ten; in writing, the use of contractions or initials
for entire words. Before the invention of printing
Buch abbreviations were exceedingly frequent, now
they are employed chiefly in titles, thus :—

A. B. or B. A., Bachelor of Arts.

A. D. {Aniw Domini), in tlio year of our Lord; A.H,,
in the year of tlic Ucjira ; A. M. {Anno Mundi), in tho
year of the world ; A. C. or B. C, tho year before Christ ;
A. U. C. [Anno Urbe Condita), the year from the build-
ing of Rome.

A. M. or H. A., Master of Arte.

A. M. {Ante Meridian), forenoon ; P. M. {Poit Meridian),
afternoon.

B. C. L., Bachelor of Civil Law.

B. D., Bachelor of Divinity.

C. B., Companion of the Bath.
C.E., Civil Engineer.

ait., Clerk.

D. C. L., Doctor of Civil Law.
D.D., Doctor of Divinity.

D.O. (Dei Gratia), by tho grac« of God.

£. I. C, Ea«t India Company; E. I. C. S., East India

Company's Service.
F. D., Defender of tho Faith.

F. R. B., Fellow of the Royal Sooiety ; L., of London ; B.,
of Edinburgh.

G. C. B., Grand Cross of the Bath.
G. C. H., Grand Crous of Hanover.

H. M. S., His or Her Majesty 't Service.

i. e. {id al), that is to say; ib., in tho same placo; id,,
tho same.

K. B., Knight of tho Bath.

K.C. B., Knight Commander of the Bath.

K. C. II., Knight Commander of Hanover.

K. G., Knight of tho Garter.

LL. D. , Doctor of Laws.

M. D., Doctor of Medicine.

M. P. , Member of Parliament.

M. R. C. 8., Member of tho Royal College of Surgeons.

MS., Manuscript; M8S., Manuscripts.

M. R. I. A., Member of tho Royal Irish Academy.

N.B. {nota bene). Observe.

Nem. con. (nemine contradicentt), no one contradicting;
Nem. dis., no one dissenting.

O. S., Old Stylo ; N. S., New Stylo.

Ph. D., Doctor of Philosophy.

R, A., Royal Academy.

R. E., Royal Engineers.

R. M., Royal Marines.

n.N., Royal Xavy.

K. T. P. (Sincte Thtologla: Vrofeuor), Doctor of Divinity.

Viz. (videlicet), namely.
Aberdeen, description and account of, 239.
Abridgment, in literature, a compendious arrangement
of tne matter contained iu a larger work; diffiering
from an abstract, which gives a mere analysis or
general view of the leading particulars. The French
word pricU ia sometimes used aa synonymous with
No. 100.

abstract ; so also synopsis, which is a Greek word,
signifying a collective view of any subject, as a sy-
nopsis of geology, astr->nomy, and the like.

Abstractions, in Logic, iiiil.

Acaaemia, a pleasant and finely-wooded spot in the
vicinity of Athens, which derived its name from the
proprietor Act demus, and became renowned as the
spot where Plato taught philoaophv to his pupils.
These were thence termed Academics; and a fami-
liar appellation {Academy), originating in the same
source, is bestowed on seats of learning and educa-
tion at the present day.

Accolade (Lat. ad, to, and collum, the neck), the touch
or slight blow given to the neck or shoulder on dub-
bing a knight.

Accordion, musical instrument, 768,

Achaia, a district of the Peloponnesus or Morea, the
people of which held so considerable a station among
the ancient Greeks, that their name was frequently
used to denote the entire population of the country.

Achates, a follower of ^neas, so faithful and devoted,
that his name has become proverbially significant of
constancy in friendship.

Acheron, a gloomy river in the fabulous infernal re-
gions of the classical mythology.

Achilles, son of Peleus, king of Thessaly, by the sea-
goddess Thetis. Educated by Chiron, a learned cen-
taur (half man, half horse), Achilles is represented
as having become perfect in all the accomplist.jients
of his heroic age, and had just attained the prime of
youthful manhood, when the princes of Greece went
to war with Troy. Thetis, foreknowing that her son
would fall in that contest, disguised him as a female
to prevent his entering into it; but he "^as detected,
and, not against his will, went with the other chiefs
to Troy, where he distinguished himself above all the
Greeks by consummate daring and prowess. A
quarrel with the leader, Agamemnon, caused him at
length to withdraw in disgust from the field; and in
spite of the intreaties of his countrymen, he remained
obstinately inactive in his ships, until the death of
Patroclus by the hand of Hector caused him to don
the splendid panoply formed for him by the armourer
of the gods, and rush to the scene of battle. Many
Trojans fell before the infuriated chieftain, and,
finally. Hector himself was cast lifeless on the field.
In his youthful days Thetis had rendered her son
invulnerable by dipping him in the river Styx ; but
the tendon of the heel by which she held him (hence
called the tendo Achillis) was left unsecured, and
Paris, the brother of Hector, slew the chief by a
wound in that spot, thus fulfilling the decree of fate.
Strength, swiftness, and beauty of person, are the
leading characteristics assigned to Achilles by Homer.

Acquisitiveness, iu Phrenology, 342.

Acrocorinthus, the citadel rock of Corinth, an eminence
of great height and strength.

Actaeon, a Bceotian huntsman, who, having accidentally
beheld Diana bathing, was changed by the chaste
goddess into a stag, and torn to pieces by his own
dogs. The * fate of Acteeon ' is a phrase expressive
of the ruin of a man by his own friends, or from un-
wittingly becoming cognisant of dangerous secrets.

Activities, of the Human Mind, 334.

AdOgio (Ital. leisurely), in music, the b\ov est of musi-
cal tone, grave only excepted.

786

}

OHAMBEBffS IITFOIIMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Addition, in Arithmetic, S9S; in Algebra, 604.

Address, forms of, in Rhetoric, 693.

Adhesiveness, in Phrenology, 340.

Adjectives, in Grammar, 578; inflection of, 582.

Administration of government, 45.

Adonis, a youth of great beauty beloved by Venus,
who, on his being gored to death by a wild boar, con*
verted him into the flower anemone.

Adverb, in Grammar, 579.

.£neas, a Trojan prince, son of Anchises and Venus,
who, on the fall of Troy, is said to have wandered
with a small band to Italy, and to have there laid
the foundation of the Honian Empire. The Romans
were proud of this traditional descent; and Virgil
made it the subject of his great national epic, 97.

.Solian harp (so called from ^olus, god of the winds),
a simple instrument which produces a pleasing com-
bination of sounds by the action of the wind. It
consists of strings of catgut, or wire, stretched parallel
over a thin box of deal, with sounding holes cut in
the top. The strings being tuned in unison, the
effect is produced by placing the instrument in a
current of air, such as is caused by opening a door
or window.

./Eolus, the god of the winds, according to the classical
mythology. The ' i^oliaa harp ' derives from him
its designation.

u^rarians, the artisan class of ancient Rome, 101.

^schylus, a tragic writer of Athens, whose style is
peculiarly vehement and sublime.

.^sculapius, a personage honoured as the god of medi-
cine, and reputed to be the son of Apollo by a mortal
nymph. Exposed in infancy, to save his mother's
reputation, he fell under the care of Chiron the
centaur, and acquired such skill in the healing art
as even to recover dead persins from the grave. For
this feat, Pluto, the king of the nether realms, per-
suaded Jupiter to kill him with a thunderbolt.
Many temples were erected to jTIsculapius; and he
was generally represented in the form oi an old man,
with one hand on a statTand the other on a serpent's
head. The latter animal is to this day the emblem
of medical science; and the name of the supposed
divinity is often familiarly applied to the art and its
professors.

^sop, a native of Phrygia, renowned as a writer of
fables. His actual productions arc lost ; but the
Latin fabulists profess to have translated from his
original Greek. He is stated to have been deformed
in person, and a slave by station,

JSsthetics (Or. aisthetikoa, having the power of percep-
tion by means of the senses) : in the fine arts that
science which derives the first principles in all the
arts from the effect which certain combinations have
on the mind, as connected with nature and right
reason.

JEtna, the most famous volcanic mountain in the
world, situated in Sicily, and rising to a height of
10,870 feet above the sea-level. The noise and flame
emitted from it led the imaginative aiicients to make
its interior the workshop of the smith-god Vulcan,
1 98, et passim,

Africa, General Description and Account op, 273-
280.

Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, in the Peloponnesus, and
leader of the Greeks in the expedition against Troy.
The character given to him by Homer is one of
massive grandeur. He was murdered, on his return
home, by his wife Clytemnestra and her paramour
^gisthus.

Aglaia, one of the three Graces, 87.

Agrarian Law, in Roman history, 9.9.

Agricula (Cii. Julius), a Roman general, who, under
various emperors, served with great distinction in
Britain.

Agricultural statistics of Britain, 185. .

Aide-de-camp (l""r.), an officer appointed to attend a
general officer in the field, in wi..ter quarters and in
garrison, to receive and carry orders.
786

Air (ventilation), duties regarding, 451.

Ajax, son of Telamon, and famous in the war of Troy
for his bravery and vast though unwieldy strength.
He became mad, and slew himself, because the arms
of the deceased Achilles were not assigned to him.

Alarms in churches and theatres, 776.

Album, originally a white board or tablet on which the
proetor's edicts were written; the modern application
of the term is sufficiently familiar.

Alcestis, wife of Admetus, king of Phernc, who volun-
tarily died for her husband's sake, and was brought
again from the regions of the dead by Hercules.

Alcibiades, an Athenian noble, remarkable for beauty
of person and intellectual capacity, and not less
notorious for his vices and luxurious effeminacy.
He was a pupil of the philosopher Socrates, and
owed much to his instructions. After a youth spent
for the most in folly, yet folly redeemed in part by
generous actions, he entered into the service of the
state, and showed eminent talents as a military and
naval commander, 93-94.

Alecto, one of the three Furies, daughters of Nox or
Night, 87.

Alexander, a name borne by several Macedonian
princes and others, but rendered chiefly illustrious
as the designation of the son of Philip of Macedon
by his wife Olympias; his career, 95-96.

Alexandria, a city of Egypt, founded by Alexander
the Great, famous for its lighthouse, its learned men,
and its two splendid libraries, successively destroyed
by Augustus Caesar and the Caliph Omar.

Alexandrine, in versification the French heroic verse
of twelve syllables or six iambic feet ; e. g. —

' AVhich, like a woundod snoko, drags Its slow length alonp;.'

Algebra, 604-G08; logic of, 366.
Alimentiveness, in Phrenology, 341.
Alliteration, in rhetoric, the consecutive use of words
beginning with or containing the same letter, as —

' And round the rugged rocks the ragged ruffian ran.'

Amalthea, the reputed nurse of the god Jupiter, whom
she fed with goat's milk. Some mythologists say
that she herself was a goat, and her horn is often
termed the ' Horn of Plenty.'

Amativeness, in PhrcMology, 340.

Amazon. — The Amazons are said to have been a tribe
of Scythian women, who did not allow men to live
with them, killed the majority of their male children,
and trained their female offspring to war, burning
off their right breasts for the better use of the bow.
Whether an imaginary race or not, the wcrd Amazon
has become a proverbial designation for a woman of
masculine habits and temperam.'nt.

Ambassadorp, functions of, in diplomacy, 45.

Ambition, metaphysically considered, 534.

America, North, General Account of, 289-304;
South, 305-320; British, 292.

American war of independence, 162.

American antiquities, 687.

American variety of mankind, physical and mental
characteristics of, 5.

Amnion. — In mythology, a Libyan divinity, adopted
by the fireeks, and by them identified with their
.lupiter. An oasis in the deserts bordering on the
Nile contained a famous temple and oracle of Jupiter
Amraon, the ruins of which are still discernible.

Amphictyon, a person who foun^ed a, general council
for ♦he twelve leading states of Greece, and from
whom such assemblages were permanently called
Amphictyonic Councils, 89.

Amphion, an individual of semi-divine origin, who
founded Thebes, in whole or part, and is stated to
have excelled so much in music as to have moved
the stones voluntarily to take their places in the
structures of the new city.

Amphitryon, husband of Alcraena, the mother of Her-
cules by Jupiter. An expression of MoliJre in a play
on this subject, • L'Araphitryou oil I'on dine,' has

INDEX, AND GLOSSARY OV TERMS.

hters of Nox or

1 and mental

caused a hospitable dinner-gire to get the familiar
name of an Amphitryon.

Amusements, iN-Doon, 657-672.

Amusements and Recreations, duties regarding, 477.

Anocreon, a bard of lona, whose graceful verse is de-
voted to love and wine.

Analogy (Or.) in ordinary language signifies a relation
or similarity between different things in certain
respects. It is used as a term, with slight difi^rences
of meaning, in logic, rhetoric, and mathematics.

Andromache, wife of Hector and mother of Astyanax,
celebrated by Homer for her conjugal affection and
domestic virti^es.

Andromeda, daughter of an Ethiopian king, who, being
chained to a roclc, and exposed to a sea-monster,
was rescued from that peril by Perseus, son of
Danae, and, by promise, became his wife.

Anger, regulation of, 4S!t.

Angles, in Geometry, 611.

Anglo-Saxon, Superstitions, 419.

Animal Pliysiology, design in, 373.

Animated Nature, compensation of parts in, 879.

Annuities, in Social Economics, 539.

Antffius, son of the earth and sea, a Libyan giant,
slain by Hercules. When a man seems to derive
fresh vigour from an overthrow, he is compared to
Antaeus, because, at every fall, his mother earth
gave that giant fresh strength; and Hercules only
foiled him by holding him up, and squeezing him to
death.

Anthologies (Gr. anthos, blossom, and logos, discourse).
The Greeli anthologies are collections of minor poems,
chiefly epigrams, of various authors. Many of the
pieces are remarkable for their beauty and simplicity
in thought, and their peculiar turns of expression.
The term is now applied more generally to any col-
lection of minor pieces.

AntiniJus, a friend of Adrian, whose form, as repre-
sented by ancient sculptors, has become significant
of a peculiar description of physical beauty.

Antiquities — see Archaeology, 673-688.

Antonius (Marcus), a Roman, who shared for a time
the empire of tlie world with Augustus Caesar, 110.

Aniibis, an Egyptian idolj represented with the head of
a dog.

Apelles, a native of the isle of Cos, usually regarded as
the greatest of the ancient painters. He followed
for a time the fortunes of Alexander.

Aphorism (Gr.), a comprehensive maxim or principle
expressed in a few words.

Apicius, a noted Roman epicure, who expended
£800,000 on his appetite, and finally killed himself
in fear of want, the £80,000 which still remained to
him at the time being insufficient to sustain the
proper rate of gourmandising extravagance.

Apis, a god of the Egyptians, venerated under the form
of a white bull.

Apocrypha, history of the, 390.

Apollo, the son of Jupiter and Latona, god of the sun,
music, medicine, and the fine arts. Born in the isle
of Delos, he soon after slew the serpent Python, sent
by Jupiter's wife to plague Latona, and thus gained
for himself the name of the Pythian Archer. A
noble ancient statue, existing in Rome, and splen-
didly described by Lord Byron, gives an image of
him in this character. He is usually pictured as a
beardless youth, holding a bow or lyre. Like others
of the mythological deities, he is said to have had
many amours with the daughters of earth, and
even to have dwelt there for nine years as a shep-
herd when expelled from heaven by his sire. Tlie
chief supplementary names given to him in poetry
are — the Delian, Cynthian, D>;lphic, and Lycian
god; and, as sun-god, he is commonly named Phoe-
bus. His principal temples and oracles were at
Delphi, Delos, and Claros, the Delphic one being the
most renowned ora?le of the earth. A youth of fine
form is often styled an Apollo, and the poets allude
endlessly to the god as their patron and guardian.

Appetites, metaphysically considered, 827.

Applegath's printing-machines, 717-720.

Appraiser, one who values goods under distreU for
rent; Appraisement, the value of goods sold under
such valuation.

Approbation, love of, in Phrenology, 343.

April festival. Calendar for, 439.

Aquatinto, species of engraving, 727.

Arabesque (Fr.): painting and sculpture after the
Arabian taste, which largely employed a capri-
cious and fantastic but highly-imaginative species
of ornament composed of fruits, flowers, and other
objects.

Arabia, ancient history of, 73.

Arachn^, a woman of Colophon, so well skilled in
needlework that she challenged competition with
Minerva, and, being defeated, hanged herself, on
which the goddess changed her to a spider.

Arcadia, a pastoral region in the centre of the Pelo-
ponnesus, so nmch distinguished for natural beauty,
and for the happy and simple life of its population,
that the word has long been used to signify a scene
of rural and inartificial enjoyment.

ArchjEology, science of, 673-688.

Archimedes, a geometrician of Syracuse, of great abi-
lities. Among his other inventions, he is said to
have discovered a mode of setting fire to ships from
a iistance by means of burning-glass — n feat which
Buffon proved to bo not impracticable. When his
sovereign suspected a tradesman of having used some
alloy in making a golden crown, Archimedes was
applied to in order to discover the truth. At a, I::'
at first, the philosopher finally ran out of his houst
towards the palace, crying, ' Eureka .' ' (' 1 have found
it !') — the idea having occurred to him of immersing
the crown in a vessel of water, and measuring what
quantity of liquid ran over. He was killed at the
Biege of Syracuse; and though interred with honour,
the spot where he lay remained long unknown, till
discovered by Cicero. Archimedes also invented the
pumping-screw. A small part only of his writings
is now in existence.

ArchipelSgus (Archipelago), a name given to any se(k
studded with islands, as the Grecian or Indian
Archipelago.

Archives, a term signifying properly the repositories of
public documents and records, but often applied to
the records themselves.

Archons, the ancient title of the chief magistrates Of
Athens, 85.

AreopagitK, the judges of the Areopagus, a seat 6t
justice on a mount near Athens.

Arethusa, a nymph of Diana's train, changed by her
mistress into a Sicilian fount, to preserve her from
the pursuit of the Grecian river-god Alpheus.

Argent (Lat. argentvm, silver), a term in Heraldry, 47.

Argo, a famous ship of antiquity, which is said to
have carried Jason i\nd a renowned body of Greeks
(called the Argonauts) to Colchis, a district on the
eastern shore of the Black Sea, in quest of a Golden
Fleece, surreptitiously taken from the Greeks. Nu-
merous writers have treated of this subject.

Argus, a being with a hundred eyes, set by Juno to
watch an earthly mistress of Jupiter, and slain by
Mercury. A jealous custodian often receives the
title of an Argus.

Ariadne, daughter of Minos, king of Crele, who, when
the Athenian prince Theseus was shut up in the
celebrated Cretan labyrinth to be devoured by a mon-
ster, gave him a clue of thread by which he extricated
himself The Clue of Ariadne .has become a byword.
Being cruelly abandoned by Theseus, Ariadn6, ac-
cording to the poets, gained the lore of the god
Bacchus, and by him was elevated to a place among
the constellations.

Arian, oi- Indo-European race, in Ethnology, compre-
hends the Hindoos, Persians, AfTghans, Armenians,
and the great bulk of the European nations, I.

Arion, a famous musician, who, when in peril of his

787

CHAMBEBffS mFOBM ATION FOB THB PEOPLE.

life at Ma, played lo eweetly that some grateful
dolphins bore him aafely bshore.
Aristides, a Btatr''nian and warrior of Athens, whose

conduct eamea for him the title of the Just, 91.
Aristocracies and aristocratic govemiaents, 41.
Aristophanes, a famons comic satirist of Athens.
Aristotle, a Greek philosopher of the iirst rank, bom
at Stagyra in Macedon, and hence called the Sta-
. gyrite. After studying under Plato, who valued him
so much as to style him the mind of the school, Aris-
totle opened a seminary of his own, and long taught
with great success. From his lecturing to his pupils
while walking, they received the name of the Peri-
patetics. Aristotle also spent ten years as the tutor
of Alexander the Great, who said that * Philip had
given him life, but Aristotle had taught him to live
well.' By the aid of this prince, the philosopher was
enabled to produce his ' History of Animated Na-
ture,' describing from collected specimens. He also
wrote on physics, metaphysics, ethics, logic, rhe-
toric, and criticism. His canons on the latter sub-
ject are yet held in high respect. Compelled to leave
Athens, Aristotle died at Cholchis, at the age of
eixty-five.
Aeithmetic, 593-604; mental, 601; logic of, r65.
Armada, the Spanish, 138.
Arms, or Armorial Bearings, in Heraldry, 46.
Army and navy of Britain, 184.

Arria, wife of the Roman Poetus, famous for stabbing
herself, and saying, ' Oh, Poetus, it is not painful ! '
when her husband hesitated to free himself in the
same manner from his woes.
Arlispices, Roman soothsayers, who pretended to foretel
events by the inspection of the entrails of the ani-
mals sacrificed at the altars.
Ascanius, son of tho Trojan iEncas, and successor to
bis power in Italy. The your.g inheritor end hope
of a house or party is sometimes designated by this
title.
Ath-Wednesday, festival of, 435.
Asia, general description and account of, 257-260.
Asia-Minor, ancient states ''f, 79.
Aspasia, a celebrated courtesan of Athens, mistress
and uliiroaiely wif j of Pericles, and so eminent for
her intellectual accomplishments that even modest
women resorted 'x> her to enjoy her instructive
converse, 92.
Assertions and propositions, in Logic, 356.
Association, law of, in metaphysics, 330 ; in Phreno-
logy, 352,
AssuBANCG-LiFE, 524-528.
Assyrians, the ancient, 77; antiquities, 676.
Astraea, the goddess of Justice in the classical mytho-
logy, 87.
Astronomy, logic of the science, 367.
Atalanta, a princess of the isle of Scyro, of great
beauty, and determinedly averse to matrimony. As
the excelled in running, she consented to wed him
who foiled her in a trial of speed, and defeated all
her lovers, until one (^ame forward who was favoured
by the goddess of Love. From that deity he received
three golden apples, and was directed to throw them
down at intervals in the race. The stratagem suc-
ceeded. Atalauta could not refrain from stopping
to pick up the apples, and the lover obtained her
hand. But for i ubsequent disrespect to Jupiter, the
pair were changi 1 into a lion and lioness. The race
of Atalanta it ' ten alluded to.
Athens, history of, 90, 94.

Athos, a mountain of Macedonia, which a sculptor
proposed to cut into a vast statue of Alexander the
Great.
Atlas, a Titan or giant who warred with Jupiter, and
was ultimately changed into tho mountain, or chain
of mountains, k.{ the same name in Africa, which,
from their height, were supposed to support the
heavens. Hence the frequent alluaioni to the load
of Atlas, 274.
Atmospheric illutions, 430.
7B8

Atreus, kins of Argos, who, hr.ving cause of offence
against his brother Thyestes, caused the latter un-
wittingly to eat the flesh of his own children. The
son of Thyestes revenged this deed by slaying Aga-
memnon, the son of Atreus.

Atropos, one of the Fates, or Paron, whose task it was
to cut the thread of life.

Attaches (Fr.), a term applied to certain unofficial
parties connected with or attached to an embassy; see
diplomacy, 45.

Attica, a district of Greece, lying south of Boaotia, and
west of the .^gean Sea. It was supposed to be so
peculiarly favourable to genius, and its dLiIect to be
so pure, that the phrase of * Attic wit' or ' salt ' be-
came indicative of the highest literary merit, as gar-
rets got the name of ' Attics ' from writers being too
often the inhabitants of such poor places in times
not far distant.

Atticus, an intimate friend of the orator Cicero, and
a man pre-eminently distinguished by the superior
qualities of his head and heart.

Augeas, king of Elis, whose vast stables for oxen and
^oats were so overrun with filth, that it was deemed
impossible to cleanse them, until Hercules effected
the task by turning a river into them. Difficult
cases of purification or reformation are proverbially
compared to this Herculean feat of cleaning the
Augean stables, 82.

Augurs, Roman soothsayers, who pretended to foretel
events by the Hying, singing, and feeding of birds.

August, festival Calendar for, 443.

Aurora, the goddess of the Morning, usually repre-
sented as drawn by two horses in a rose-coloured
chariot. She was called sister to the sun and moon,
and mother of the winds and stars.

Australasia, description and account of, 282-288.

Australia, colonies of, 284.

Austria, description of, 201.

Autograph (Gr. aulas, self, and grapho, I write), a
piece of writin,; in one's own hand.

Avarice, as a mental dodire, 334.

AventinuB, one of the seven hills on which Rome was
built; Aventine mount.

Avemus, a lake of Campania, so unwholesome and
putrid that the ancients made it the entrance of tho
infernal regions.

Babel, Babylon, in Ancient History, 76.

Babylonians, the ancient, 77 ; Babylon, 78.

Bacchantes, priestesses of Eacchus, who did honour to
the god of wine by the most frantic and licentious
orgies, 86,

Bacchus, god of wine, son of Jupiter by Semele, who,
being a :iiortal, fell a victim to her vain wish of we-
ing her lover in all the blaze of his divinity. Jupiter
rescued her unborn child from the same fate, and
placed him in his own thigh until grown to infant
maturity, Bacchus, in his adult state, underwent
many adventures, according to the poets. He made
an expedition to India with his Bacchanalian fol-
lowers, and made an easy conquest ■>{ the interme-
diate nations, teaching them the use of the vine.
As Bacchus the conqueror, he is painted as drawn in
a chariot by a lion and a tiger; and in other circum-
stances he IS represented ai a plump, smooth-skinned
young man, with a crown of vine and ivy leaves, and
a thyrsus or rod in his hand. His common names,
besides that mentioned, are lacchus. Liber, Bromius,
Ly»us, and Evan. The rites in his honour were
called Bacchanalia, 86.

Backgammon, game of, 662.

Baconian Philosophy — the Inductive Method pro-
pounded by Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam.

Bc^atelle, game of, 66C.

Bahamas, or Lucayos Islands, West Indies, 318.

Bail, games with, 656.

Ballet (Fr,), in theatricals, a representation of actions,
characterr, sentiments, and passions, by means of
munic movements and dances, accompanied by music.

cause of ofience
ed the latter un-
n children. The

by slaying Aga-

whose task it was

certain unofficial

an embassy; see

th of BoQotia, and
jpposed to be so

1 its dialect to be
vjt'or 'salt' be-
^Ty merit, as gar-
writers being too

places in times

ator Cicero, and
by the superior

es_ for oxen and
it it was deemed
Jcrcules effected
hem. Difficult
are proverbiallj
of Cleaning the

ended to foretel
ding of birds.

usually repre-
a rose-coloured
I sun and moon,

, 282-288.

ho, I write), a

hich Rome was

ivholcgome and
sntrance of the

78.

did honour to

and licentious

r Semele, who,
n wish of nee-
inity. Jupiter
ime fate, and
own to infant
te, underwent
ts. He made
ihanalian fol-

the interine.

of the vine.
1 as drawn in
other circum-
looth-skinned
y leaves, and
imon names,
!>«r, Bromius,
honour were

lethod pro-
m.

,318.

I of actions,
y means of
3d by music.

INDEX, AND QLOSSAKY OF TERMS.

Banco (Ital. a bench), in commerce, a bank, but com-
monly applied to the Bank of Venice; in law, the
superior courts of common law are said to sit in
banco during terra.
Bankruptcy or insolvency, law of, 502.
Banks, origin of, 507; business of, 607; Bank of Eng-
land, 508; joint-stock banks, 509; Scotch, 510; Irish,
512; savings', 512.

Barbadots, island of, 317.

Barclay, Captain, his pedestrian feats, 645-647.

Baron and baronet, ranks of, 48.

Barrows, in ArchoBology, 679.

Bass or base, in Music, 738,

Bassoon, musical instrument, 766.

Bathos (Gr. bathos, depth), in rhetoric, a term applied
to a ludicrous descent from elevated to mean.

Bavius and Mtevius, two inferior and malevolent poets
in the time of Augustus Caesar, whose names have
'■'•■ Income a by-word for all envy of superior merit.

Bears' grease, how to make, 784.

Beauty, emotion of, in metaphysics, 333.

Beauty, theological considerations respecting, 380.

Belfast, description and account of, 254.

Belgium, description of, 204.

Beliefs, metaphysically considered, 335.

Belisarius, an able general of the Constantinopolitan
emperor, Justinian, reduced to beggary in his old age,
and afflicted with blindness. * Date obolum Belisario'
— C Give the smallest coin to Belisarius '), the usual
petition of the fallen soldier, has become proverbial.

Belize or Honduras, British settlement of, 297.

Bellerophon, a son of the king of Ephyre, who, having

' committed an act of violence, fled to the court of

' Proetus, king of Argos, where the queen fell in love
with him, and finding herself slighted, accused him
to her husband. The latter sent Bellerophon to Lycia
with sealed letters, desiring that the bearer should be
put to death. The I^cian king sent his guest, with
this view, against a monster called the Chimeera, but
receiving from Minerva a winged horse called Pe-
gasus, Bellerophon overcame the monster; and after
other trials, ultimately wedded the daughter of the
Lycian monarch. From this story, all letters un-
favourable to the bearer have been called ' Letters of
Bellerophon.'

Belles-Lettres, or Polite Literature, 689.

Bellona, sister and charioteer to Mars, the god of war.

Benevolence, sentiment of, in Phrenology, 344.

Berenice, a name borne by several Egyptian princesses,
one of whom was noted for her beautiful hair, which
was placed by her in the temple of Venus. Being
lost, the locks were said by the court-astronon ers to
have been turned into a constellation.

Bermudas or Somers' Islands, 319.

Bible, the. History of, 385-394.

Biblia Pauperum, in history of printing, 705.

Bibliography (Or. biblion, a book, and grapfu., I write),
literally the science of books. It is customary to
speak of intellectual bibliography and material
bibliography ; the former implying the knowledge
required to describe aiid arrange books according to
the subjects of which they treat, and the latter a
knowledge of the external peculiarities of books,
their editions, &c. ; but such a division is rather
arbitrary than real, bibliography as a science com-
prehending all that appertains to the * history of the
book,' from the earliest to the latest tines.

Bibliology (Or. biblion, a book, and logos, discourse), a
description or account of books; used synonymously
with bibliography; the science which treats of books.

Bill of lading. See commercial terms, 501.

Billiards, game of, 663.

Bills of Exchange, 505.

Bills of mortality. See Mortality.

Birds, design in the structure of, 375.

Birmingham, description and account of, 219.

Births, statistics of, 546.

Bishop, origin of the term and office, 39G.

Black letter, the old English or modern Gothic letter,

introduced into England about the end of the four-
teenth century.
Blacking, fur shoes, &c. how to make, 779.
Bleaching, in domestic economy, 779.
Boadicea (or Bondicea), queen of the Iceniaiii, a tribe
of South Britons, who took up arms to avenge the
outrages of the Romans, but, in spite of her un-
daunted conduct in the field, was vanquished by
them, and poisoned herself.
Bocotia, a district of Greece, now forming part of Li-
vadia, and lying between Phocis and Attica. Partly
from an idea that the atmosphere of the region was
peculiarly thick, the inhabitants gained a reputation
for stupidity, which has y^t adhered to their name.
Yet Pindar, Plutarch, and others of the brightest
spirits of Greece, were Boeotians.
Bolivia, republic of, described, 309.
Bombay, description and account of, 271.
Boodhism, account of, 405.
Boreas, a title of the north wind.
Borghs, in Archaeology, 679.

BospLSrus, the early name for the Strait of Constan-
tinople.
Bourgeois, a variety of type, in Printing, 709.
Bowls, games with, 653.
Brain, the, phrenologically considered, 337.
Brass and copper vessels, how to clean, 772.
Brazil, empire of, described, 31 1.
Breath, fetid, how to re.-nove, 783.
Brevier, a variety of type, in Printing, 709.
Briareus, a famous giant, with fifty heads and a hun-
dred hands, sun of the Heaven and Earth.
Bristol, description of, 220.

Britain, History OF,129-n6; constitution of, 177-192;
resources of, 177-192; conquest of by the Romans,
129; conquest of by the Saxons, 129; conquest of by
the Noriu;;ns, 130; government of, 177; laws,.179;
religion, 180; education, 181; finances of, 183; army
and navy, 184; agriculture, manufactures, and com-
merce of, 185; public works, &c. 188; colonial posses-
sions, 189; population of, 191; social statistics of, 191.
Britain, New, in North America, 292.
British constitution, character of, 42.
Broker, a somewhat indefinite term in commerce and
mercantile law for one who contracts for the sale or
disposal of goods belonging to other parties. Thus
there are bill-brokers, stockbrokers, insuranco-
brokers, shipbrokers, pawnbrokers, and brokers
who sell or appraise household furniture for rent.
Brokerage is the term applied to a broker's remune-
ration, or per-ceiit'ige.
Brutus (Lucius Ju as), a noble Roman, who, in the
days of the last king of Rome, feigned himself an
idiot to insure his safety, but threw off the mask,
and overturned the royal authority, when Lucretia
fell a victim to the brutality of the son of Tarquin.
When the sons of Brutus afterwards conspired to
restore the Tarquins, he himself, as consul, was
called upon to act as judge, and his high-minded
victory over parental feeling has made his name
immortal. — Brutus (Marcus Junius), descendant of
the preceding, who emulated his virtues and his
fame. When the power of Julius Caesar became
dangerous to the liberties of Rome, Marcus Brutuv,
though one of his wannest personal friends, rose
against him, and united with Cassius and others in
stabbing him in the Capitol. Caesar, as he received
the last blow, uttered to him who dealt it the memor-
able words, ' Et tu Brute 1 =— (' Thou, too, Brutus ! ')
The friends of Caesar were avenged at Philippi, where
the chief conspirators fell; and Plutarch tells that
Brutus was forewarned of the event by the spirit of
Caesar, v/hich app< ared in his tent, and said, ' I will
meet thee again at Philippi' — words often used to
convey an indicdtiou of coming evil.
Bucephfilus, a horse tamed by Alexander the Great in
youth, and which became so renowned for bearing
him in the field of battle, as to give a common nam»
to all spirited animals of its species.

789

CHAMSBBSPB IKFOBIUTION FOB THB PSOFLE.

Sttdgvtt * ridimuft or itktemaot of the income and
expenditure of » nation ; usually applied to the an-
nual parliamentary statepent of tne Chancellor of
the Exchequer.

Bum, how to kill, 774.

Bun, papal (Lat. buila), an ordinance or decree of the
pope, equivalent to a proclamation, edict, or order of
any lecular prince.

Bunions, how to remove, 784.

Burning, escapes from, 775.

Ca^ODOCs or Closes, in Music, 760.

Cadet (Fr.), a pupil in a military academy, who
object is to qualify himself as an officer. The chief
military institutions in this country are Sandhurst
for the British line; Woolwich for the artillery and
engineers; and Addiscombe for the Indian army,
both line and artillery,

Cadmus, a prince of Phoenicia, who generally receives
the credit of inventing letters, or at least of intro-
ducing them into Greece, Though some writers
ascribe the erection of Thebes to Amphiou's music,
others term Cadmus its founder. Ere he could do
so, he killed a dragon which had devoured his com-
panions; and from the teeth of this monster, when
■own ill the earth, a band of armed men sprung up.
These fought among themselves, till only five were
left to assist Cadmus in building the city. The
(owing of the teeth and its consequences are often
alluded to, and form an apt comparison when the
germs of strife are planted in any instance, 82.

Caduceus, a rod entwined at one end by serpents, and
which served as the rod of power and office of the
herald-god Mercury, 87.

Ctesar, an illustrious name in history, first given as a
surname to the Julian family of Rome. Caiua Julius
Ceesar, who gained for the family supreme power,
was born in the year i 00 d. c, and early distinguished
himself by his eloquence, his captivating manners,
and generous habits of life, 108-110. — Cnesar (Oc-
taviuB, afterwards named Augustus), iiepbew of
Julius Ceesar, and his successor in powc, 109-111.
The title of Coesar is specially given to the first
twelve emperors (commencing with the dictator, Ju-
lius Ciesar) who sat on the Uoman throne. It was
also assumed by later Roman eni])erors; and both
the iaiiars of Germany and the c:ars of Russia owe
their designation to the same source.

Cairns, in Archeeology, 672).

Calcutta, description and account of, 271.

Calendar, Key tu thk, 433-448.

Caligula, the fourth of the twelve Caesars, who derived
his name from his habitually wearing the caliga or
military boot of the age, and made himself noted as
a cruel and sensel-jss tyrant. From mere wanton-
ness he made his horse high priest and consul of
Rome; and ho, spilt blood without cause and without
remorse. He died a violent death. III.

Calliope, one of the Muses, 87.

Calotype or Talbotype, art of, 734.

Calvinists, the followers of Calvin, the second great
reformer of the sixteenth century, and founder of
the church of Geneva, 400.

Calypso, a beautiful goddess, who, according to Homer,
dwelt on an island of the earth, and wlio received
Ulysses hospitably as he wandered home from Troy,

Camera-obscura for photography, 733.

Camilla, queen of the Volsci, who fought against i^neas,
and is described as having been lo swift of foot that
the could fly over a field of corn without bending
the blades.

Campus Martius, ?. plain near Rome, used for the
military exercises of the youth of the city.

Canada, description and account of, 293.

Candlemas-da) origin of, 434,

Canon, in musical composition, 764.

Cape Colony, description and account of, 279.

Capital, in Political Economy, 496 ; in Commerce, 500.

Capitolium, the citadel of aucieat Home, founded on
790

the Tarpeian Rock, and containing alio a t«niple,
from which Jupiter waa named Capitolinus. The
Capitol was a noble structure, occupying four acres
of ground, and accessible by a hundred steps. Tho
Romans hold it in peculiar veneration, and it was
the scene of all their triumphal processions. By the
cackling of geese the Romans were once roused to
the protection of their Capitol, and this is often
alluded to when slight means serve great ends.

Cards, various games with, 666-671.

Carpets, purchasing, 769; cleaning, 771.

Carriers, laws relating to, 601.

Carthage, a great maritime and republican city of
Africa, founded about 900 years B.C. by the Phoe-
nician princess Dido, and long the rival of Rome.
Carthage existed for upwards of 700 years, and pos-
sessed during its palmy days a great part of Africa
on tho Mediterranean, as well as Spain, Sicily, and
Sardinia. Its generals, and particularly Hannibal,
pressed Rome so severely, that Cato, one of the
wisest of the Romans, pronounced its destruction
indispensable. His words, ' Delenda est Carlhugo'
('Carthage must be destroyed'), have become pro-
verbial. The power of the African republic was at
last overthrown by Scipio Africanus, and the city
ruined by fire. The Romans, in their hate, used to
call the Carthaginians all that was treacherous; and
from one of the names of the latter people, Punica
fides (Punic faith) was made by their foes a, lasting
synonyme for 'faithlessness,' 102-106.

Cartouche, example of, in Arcl|i»ology, 675.

Cassandra, a Trojan princess, who is said to hare re>
ceived the gift of prophecy from Apollo; but having
afterwards slighted the god, was doomed by him to
have all her predictions disbelieved. When she fore-
told the fall of Troy, accordingly, she was deemed
insane. An unheeded prognosticator of evil is hence
termed a Cassandra.

Castalia, a Parnassian fount, sacred to the Muses, and
a fertile theme of poetical allusions.

Castor, son of Leda, whom the enamoured god Jupiter
is said to have wooed in the form of a swan, Leda
bore at once two sons and two daughters — Castor,
Pollux, Clytemnestra, and Helena, of whom the
second and fourth were deemed children of Jupiter,
and the other two of the husband of Leda, Pollux,
on being elevated to a star, exhibited his love for
Castor by seeking for the latter a share of his im>
mortality, and it was granted to them to live six
months alternately.

Cathedrals and cathedral cities of England, 224.

Catholic Church, the Roman, 399.

Catilina (Sergius), a noble Uonmn of great talents, but
infamous character and habits. To gratify his am-
bition, avarice, and revenge, he rebelled against his
country, but was overcome and slain in battle. Tho
name of Catiline is used to express all that is evil
in the character of a conspirator and liberticide, 108.

Cato, a name borne by several illustrious Romans.
Cato, Burnamed the Censor, was famous for his
valour, temperance, wisdom, and eloquence. He
studied and acquired the Greek tongue at the age of
eighty. Fragments of his compositions yet exist. —
Cato, suniamed Uticensis, was the great-grandson of
the Censor, and made himself celebrated by his
patriotic resistance to the usurpations of Julius
Cwsar, to avoid fulling into whose hands he ulti-
mately stabbed himself, after reading Plato on the
Soul's Immortality, 108.

Catullus, a Roman poet, whoso pieces have much
sweetness and feeling, though occasionally marked
by immorality.

Caucasian variety of maTikind, physical and mental
characteristics of, 1 ; history of, 68.

Causality, faculty of, in Phrenology, 350.

Cause and effect, in Logic, 359.

Cautiousness, in Phrenology, 344.

'^'axton, William, his connection with the introduction
of printing in Britain, 707.

INDEX, AND OLOBSART OF TERMS.

the Muses, and

and mental

CeltsB or Celtj, in Archasology, 677, 601,

Celtic family, characteristics of, 3.

Censors, two important Roman magistrates, who had

the care of the manners and morals of the people.
Centauri, a monstrous people of Thessaly, described as
having the head, chest, and arms of men placed on
the trunks of horses. A band of them being invited
to a weddinjt- feast of the Lapithee, a quarrel ensued,
and a fearful battle took place, in which Hercules
and Theseus peculiarly distinguished themselves in
combating and defeating the Centaurs. Many sculp-
tors, from the Greeks to the moderns, have used the
chisel on this subject, which is indeed rich in the
picturesque. The first use of horses for riding seems
to have originated the fable of the Centaurs, but
Plinv actually states that he saw one embalmed '.
Central America, states of, described, 304,
Cephalus and Frocris, a wedded pair, who, having each
tried the other's fidelity by disguises, found that
human nature is frail, and became content and
happy. But Procris, uncured of jealousy, followed
her husband one day to the chase, and was acciden-
tally slain by him. The story of these lovers is often
told and alluded to by the classical poets,
Cerberus, a dog with three heads, guardian of the in-
fernal gate. Watchdogs, nay, guardian bipeds, fre-
quently receive this name,
Ceres, the goddr of com and harvests, daughter of
Saturn and Vesta. She was worshipped everywhere
for her bounties, having taught Triptolemus of
Eleusis all the arts of agriculture, and sent him to
disseminate them ov^ the earth. At Eleusis, she
also established the famous rites called the Eleusi-
nian Mysteries, 87,
Chaos, the rude, shapeless mass of matter composing,
according to the ancients, the yet unformed universe.
Chapel, in Printing, 715.
Charge-d'affaires (Fr.), in diplomacy, 45.
Charlemagne, his career, 115-llU.
Charon, the ferryman who wafted the dead over the
river Styx into the regions below. As the boatman
demanded a ' consideration ' for his services, it was
customary for the ancients to place a small coin
below the tongues of the dead.
Charybdis, a deep whirlpool in the Sicilian seas, op-
posite to the rock Scylla. The combined dangers
of both Ipd to the well-known saying — ' Incidu in
Scyllam, cupiens vi'are Charybdim ' — (' Shunning
Charybdis, you on Srylla strike'), which is fami-
liarly applied in the sa^iie sense as the Scottish pro-
verb, ' Out of the frying-pan into the fire.'
Chemistry, logic of the science, 367.
Chess, gtime of, 657-661; ancient chessmen, 686,
Chester, c'liy, description and account of, 221.
Chevron, a term in neraldry, 47.
Chilblains, how to remove, 784.
Chili, description and account of, 309.
Chimsera, a fabled monster killed by Dellerophon,
which had a triple head, composed of those of a goat,
a lion, and a dragon, and which breathed flame.
Any monstrous thing of fancy is now termed a
rhimsera.
Chimney on fire, how to extinguish, 775; smoky, how

to cure, 777.
Chinese language, 32; history, manners, religion,

literature, &c. 67.
Chivalry, institution of, 121

Chords, classification of, in Music, 745; progression of,
746; derived from the dominant, 751.

CilRISTUNIir, HISTORY OF, 394-400.

Christmas-day, festival of, 447.

Chronicle (Or. chronos, time), a historical register of
events in the order of time.

Church of England, 180; of Ireland, 180; of Scotland,
181 ; the statistics, &c. of.

Churches, the Roman Catholic, the Eastern, Protestant-
Episcopalian, Presbyterian, &c. 399-400.

Cicero (Marcus Tullius), an orator of Rome, whose
speeches agauut Catilute, Autony, and others, re-

main imperishable monumeuti of his powers. Hii
eloquent denunciations saved Rome from the t«nder
nieioies of Catiline, and he was termed by the people
the, father of his country. After serving the state in
liie highest situations at home and abroad, and suf<
ferlng exile for his attacks on the bad, he took the
side of Pompcy agaiiiSt Cocsar ; but the latter, on
becoming victor, treated Cicero with much respect.
However, when Ctssar was slain, Antony, the bitter
foe of the orator, acquired a fatal degree of power.
At length Antony despatched assassins on the track
of Cicero, and soon after his bleeding head wai
brought to Rome, where the wife of the master-
murderer tore out the once persuasive tongue In
remorseless spite.
Cicerdnc (Ital.), an individual who acts as a guide or

pointer out of interesting objects to travellers.
Cimmerian, a local epithet for the natives of the dis-
trict now called the Crimea, and some parts of which
were thought to be so dark, that ' Cimmerian gloom '
has become a proverbial phrase.
Cincinnatus, an illustrious Roman, who was taken
from the jplough, which he left with regret, to serve
and save his endangered country. His task fulfilled,
he again contentedly retired to his farm.
Circd, a witch of semi-divine origin, whose irresistible
enchantments drew many into her power, only to be
changed, after a short career of voluptuousness, into
filthy swine. Circd <s evidently an emblem of de-
basing pleasure.
Circle, properties of the, in Geometry, 610.
Circumcision, festival of, 433.

Circus, the place where shows were exhibited at Rome.
Cities, historically and socially considered, 38,
Civil society, construction and constitution of, 38.
Civility, duty of, 456.
Clarionet, musical instrument, 766.
Classic (Lat. classis, a class). The highest class among
the Romans were denominated, by way of pre-emi-
nence, claaaiei ; hence the application of the term to
authors of the highest or first class, whose works are
regarded as models or authorities. A writer is there-
fore said to be oliaaical if public opinion has placed
his productions in the first class; and a painting ia
said to be classic when its arrangement is such that
all the parts cr accessories are suitable to the general
design.
Cleanliness, duties regarding, 450.
Cleopatra, a name borne by several princesses of Egypt,
and rendered particularly famous by one whose sur-
passing beauty enslaved Mark Antony, and led to
his ruinous contention with Cmsar Augustus. When
Antony fell, Cleopatra applied an aspic to her breait,
and died from its venomous bite, 110.
Clients and Patrons, in Roman History, 98.
Climax (Or. climax, gradation). In rhetoric, an ascent
from the least important object or proposition to
that which is calculated to make the greatest im-
pression on the mind of the hearer or reader. Anti-
climax is the term employed when the ideas sink in
succession : nearly the same as bathos.
Clio, the Muse who presided over history, 87.
Cloacina, a goddess to whom the Romans assigned the
care of all the refuse of their city : see also Cloacse,
Vol. I., 476.
Closes, or Cadences, in Music, 760.
Cloth, incombustible, 780.
Clotho, one of the Fates, who held the distaff from

which was spun the thread of life, 87.
Clyde, scenery of the, 232.
Clytemnestra, wife and murderess of Agamemnon, and

the victim of her own son's revenge.
Cockroaches, how to destroy, 774.
CodruB, an Athenian king, who, prompted by an oracle,

gave up his life to save his country, 85.
Collos^um, a giganl.'a amphithsatre at Rome. See

vignette to No. 61,
Colonial possessions of Britain, statistics of, 189.
ColoBBUB, a brazen image placed with its feet on the

791

! I

OHABfBERS'S INFORMATION FOB THE PEOPLE.

two molM of the harbour of Hhodei, and of luch
mafpiltude, that ihlpi paued eaiily between iti legi.
The term uoloual hat become flnuljr eatablUhed in
modem languagei.

Combatireueii, in Phrenology, 341.

Comitlie, public aiaemblies of Rome, 98.

Commerce, 497-503.

Commercial itatiitics of Britain, 1U5-1B7.

Commons, constitution of the House of, 177.

Company, see commercial terms, 409.

Comparison, faculty of, in Phrenologv, 35U.

Composing, in letterpress-printing, flO,

Composition, law of in animated nature, 379.

ConcentratirenesD, in Phrenology, 340.

Concertina, a musical instrument, 76t).

Conjunction, in Oranimar, 580.

Connoisseur (Fr. oonttailre, to know), originally applied
to one versed in the fine arts; but now employed in-
discriminately to one well acquainted with any par-
ticular object or study.

Conscientiousness, in Phrenology, 345.

Consonants, various classes of, 19.

Constantinople during the Middle Ages, 125.

ConstructivenesB, in Phrenology, 34*2,

Consul, the highest Roman magistrate. This oiBce was
held annually and conjunctly by two individuals,
who conducted the wars of the state, presided over
the senate, and held, in short, nearlv absolute power.

Consumption, nature and design of, m PoUtictd Eco-
nomy, 494 ; different kinds of, 495.

Contiguity, the law of, in metaphysics, 328.

Contraband (Ital. contra, against; bando, a proclama-
tion), in commerce, gooi's exported from, or imported
into, a country against its laws; smuggled, in com-
mon language.

Contralto (ItaL), in Music, 738,

Corinth, a famous city of Ureece, situated on the
isthmus between the Gulfs "f iBgina and Lepanto,
and remarkable in classical times for its power and
opulence. Corinthian brass is frequently alluded to,
and is said to have been an alloy accidentally formed
when the city was burned by the Romans in the
second century, a.d. The common adage, ' Non
euivii homini contingit adire Corinlhum ' — (' It is not
every man's luck to visit Corinth ')• >s supposed by
Suidas to refer to its difficulty of access by sea.

Cork, city, description and account of, 251.

Cornelia, a noble Roman lady, who, though her sons
were put to death for their turbulence, was so proud
of them that it was her boast to be simply named
* The mother of the Gracchi,' 104.

Como or French-horn, 767.

Cornopean or Cornet-i-piston, 767,

Corns, how to remove, 784.

Coronet, literally, a little cn>wu, in heraldry, 47.

Corsellis, first printer in England, 707.

Corydon, a name in Virgil's pastorals, often applied to
snepherds.

Coryphieus (or Choryphicus), a title formerly given
to the leaders of choral bands, and now frequently
assigned to leading men of any doKription.

Cosmetics, in personal economy, 784.

Counterpoint, in musical composition, 762, 764.

Counter-tenor, in musical composition, 738.

Courtesy and respect, duty of, 457.

Courts of law, English, 60; Scotch, 63.

Covenant, the National, of Scotland, 141.

Coventry, description of, 219.

Cowry (Germ, kouri), a small shell of the genui cy-
prcea, used in Africa, in India, and the Indian islands
in lieu of coin in smaller payments : one hundred are
equivalent to a penny, 503.

Cream, cold, recipe for, 784.

Credit, nature of, in Commerce, 500.

Crete. — The island of Crete was chiefly renowned of
old for its labyrinth, laws, luxury, and lies. The
name of a Cretan, indeed, became a byword for
falsehood.

Cribbage, game of, 6G9.
792

Cricket, practice and rules of, 651-658.

Crime, statistics of, 559; in Britain, 192.

Criticism (Or. krino, 1 judge), in rhetoric, the art of
judging with propriety concerning any object or com-
bination of objects; usually limited to literature,
philology, and the fine arts.

Crcesus, a king of Lydia, supposed to b» the richest
of mankind, and desirous of being thought the hap-
piest. Solon, the Athenian philosopher, told him
that wealth did not insure happiness, and that no
man could bj safely called happy before death.
Croesus disliked this plain speaking, but when over-
come by Cyrus, and led out tc execution, Le acknow-
ledged aloud its truth. Cyrus, struck himself by the
ciroumstance, pardoned him.

Cromlechs, in Archaeology, 683.

Cromwell, his career, 144-147.

Cross-hatching, in Engraving, 723. •

Crotchet, in musical time, 739.

Crusades, the, 119-124.

Cuirass (Fr. cuir, leather), a covering for the breast,
originally made of leatner, but now of quilted linen,
woollen, steel-plate, or any ovher material.

Cultivation, self, as a mental desire, 834.

Cupid, god of Love, and son of Venus, queen of Beauty.
He is represented as a winged boy, naked, and armed
with a bow and arrows.

Curiosity metaphysically considered, 334,

Curling, game of, 649; laws for, 650.

Currency of the United Kingdom, 188, 507.

Customs, and custon^house, in Commerce, 502.

Cutlery and other hardwareo, in household economy,770.

Cybelu, a goddess worshippisd with many mystic rites,
and usu^ly painted with a turreted crown, keys in
her hand, and a lion-drawn chariot.

Cyclops, a race of one-eyed ginnts. who acted as assist-
ants to the smith-god Vulcan, and devoured human
beings.

Cymbals, in Music, 768,

Cynic (Gr. I;uor, a dog), a Greek sect of philosophers,
so called from their snarling humour, and disregard
of the conventional usages of society.

Cyprus. — The island of Cyprus, from its luxurious
fertility, was supposed to be the residence of the
goddess of Beauty and Pleasure, and from this cause
the epithet 'Cyprian' hao acquired a licentious
meaning.

Cythera, an islet off the Morea, sacred to Venus, and
from which she is often called Cytherea, or the Cy-
therean goddess.

Czar or tzar {Casar), the title given to their monarch
or emperor by several Slavonic tribes.

Deediilus, an Athenian of great skill in the mechanical
and fine arts, to whom some ascribe the invention
of the wedge, the axe, the wimble, and the level.
He is said also to have formed the many-pathed
labyrinth of Crete, in which he himself was ulti-
mately confined with his son Icarus. Not being able
to get out of his own trap, he made wings for him-
self and Icarus, with which they flew away ; but the
too-daring youth rose so near the sun that the waxen
fastenings of the wings melted, and he fell into the
sea. Diedalus is the nominal prototype of all inge-
n'ous mechanics.

D( guerreotype, art of, 733.

Damocles, a courtier, who. having londly flattered
Dionysius of Sicily on the score of his wealth and
fortunate greatness, was placed for a time, by way
of trial, upon the tyrant's throne. Damocles gazed
a while with delight on the splendour around him;
but, looking up, he saw a sword suspended above his
head by a single hair, and his fancied happiness
vanished. This incident is often referred to in illus-
tration ot' the perils and turmoils of greatness.

Damon and Pythias, two firiends of such constancy,
that when to? former of them was doomed to die,
and 80U{;ht for a respite, that he might go home and
settle his affairs, the latter offeied his life as a

INDEX, AND OLOSSAltY Of TERMS.

toeurity for the return of the other. Damon re-
turned, e>ea to his friend'i rej^rct. The aoene betwixt
them WM M moving that it led to a pardon. — Damon
if a common name for a iwain, being much uacd in
the old paitorali.

Danai!, the daughter of a king of Argo4, wat ahut up
in a tower because it wai foretold that a son of hera
ihould kill hii prandfathor. The cod Jupiter, how-
ever, introduced bimaelf in the tnrm of a golden
shower, and Danae bore to him Peraeus, with whom
she was exposed at aea in at' t bark, and who
afterwards accidentally killed .iia grandfather with
a quoit.

Danaides, the fiftv daughters of King Danaas, who, to
prevent. the fulfilment of an oraclu of fatal import,
caused them to murder their huabanda. All obeyed
but one; and, for the crime, they were condemned
perpetually to the fruitleas task of filling a sieve with
water in the infernal regions.

Dancing, as an arauaemeut, 671.

Daphne, a nymph, who, when flying from the ena-
moured pursuit of Apollo, was converted into the
laurel-tree.

Daric, a Persian gold coin of about 130 grains; so called
from Darius, the name of several of the Persian
kings: there were also silver Darics.

Deacon ^Or. deaconos, a servant), one of the orders of
the Christian church, to whom originally the ad-
ministration of charity was committed ; au assistant
or servant to the prieat or minister, 39G.

Deaths, statistics of, 549.

Debenture (Lat. debeo, I owe), in Commerce, 502.

December, festival Calendar for, 417.

Definitions, importance of, in Logic, 35Q.

Delegate (Lat. delego, I choose from), one chosen, and
sent by another to act as his representative; a deputy.

Delphi (now Castri), a town of Phocis, situated on the
side of Mount Parnassus. The place was especially
sacred to Apollo, both as the god of Poetry and
Divination, and here stood the most famous of the
Greek temples and oracles, 8U.

Delphin. — In bibliology, a term applied to the edition
of the Latin classics, prepared and commented upon
by thirty-niiie of the most famous scholars of the
day, at the suggestion of Louis XIV., king of France,
for the use of his young son the dauphin (in usum
Delphitii), under the direction of his governor Mon-
tttusier, and his preceptors Bossuet and Huet.

Democracy (Gr. demos, the people, and kratio, I govern).
— That form of governraer.c in which the whole or
majority of the i^ult population have a voice in the
election of their rulers or representatives.

Democritus, a personage called the Laughing Philo-
sopher, from his deeming it better to smile than to
weep at the follies of mankind,

Demonology. See Superstitions, 417-432.

Demosthenes, the greatest of the ancient orators. — An
Athenian by birth, he was early seized with an ardent
desire to excel in speaV.liig; and though he had many
natural disadvantages to contend with, he overcame
them all. He cured a habit of atanimering by placing
pebbles in his mouth; he inured himself to the tur-
bulence of a popular auditory by sp.'^aking on the
sea-shore during storms; and he removed the dis-
tortions of his visage by delivery before a mirror.
He shut himself up, moreover, to indulge in study;
and over the midnight lamp were compoaed those
sublime orations which yet remain without parallel,
and by which he wielded at will the fierce democracy
of Athens. His greatest efforts, when he had raised
himself to power, were directed against Philip of
Macedon; and from the title eiven to his harangues
on this subject, similar attacks are yet commonly
termed Philippics. The Macedonians ultimately
triumphed, however, and Demosthenes escaped from
his enemies by taking poison in the sixtieth year of
his age.

Denmark, description of, 205.

Depilatories (Lat. pUm, the hair), composition of, 784.

Derby, town of, 210; Derbyshire scenery, 9U.
Derivation of words, in Grammar, 586.
Derviae (Persian, poor), a term applied to owt&Ia
Asiatic fanatics, who, like the monks of Christendom,
either live in a body solitarily as hermits, or wander
about as mendicants

Desires of the human mind, 834.

Despotisms, deaputic government, 41.

Destructiveness, in Phr<mology, 341.

Deucalion, a prince of Thessaly, who, with his wife
Pyrrha, escaped, by means of a ship, from a great
deluge said to have occurred in their time. The
vessel rested on Parnassus, and Deucalion, directed
by an oracle how to repeople the earth, threw
stones over his shoulder, which instantly became men.
Pyrrha did the same, and women were formed.

Diana, sister of Apollo, goddess of hunting, and in
heaven called Luna, or the Moon. She was repre-
sented ill tlie garb of a quivered huntress followed
by dogs, and was a renowned patroness of maiden
chastity, though she is said to have fallen in love
with EuJymion, a young man of Latmos, as he lay
asleep, and even to have wedded him. She had
eighty nymphs who attended her in the chase. The
most famous temple of Diana was that at Ephesus,
called one of the seven earthly wonders, and set fire
to by one who sought thereby to gain an immortal
name. Diana is often called Cynthia, or Delia, from
the place of her birch; and in the character of the
moon, is usually termed Phoebe, 87.

Dido, a Phoenician princess, who founded Carthage,
and while it existed, was worshipped in that city,
^neas, after wooing Dido, deserted her, and her
memory has become associated with the idea of a
forlorn woman.

Digit (Gr. digitot, a finger), in mensuration, a finger's
breadth =^ of an inch; in arithmetic, the numerals
under 10; in astronomy, the twelfth part of the
diameter of the sun or moon, employed in measur-
ing the extent of an eclipse.

Dilletante (Ital.), an admirer of the fine arts; one
who delights to promote the sciences or the fine arts,

Diogenes, the type 3f all sour, snarling philo'>ophers.
He was of the Cynic sect, and so denpiaed luxury as
to live in a tub. Many of his sayings are frequently
quoted ; as, for example, his answer to Alexander
the Great, when that prince asked him what he
could do to oblige him. ' Stand away from betwixt
me and the sun,' said Diogenes.

Dionyaius (the elder), tyrant of Sicily, who, amongst
other chivracteristic deeds, constructed a cave com-
monly called ' The Ear of Dionysius,' which was of
such a form that every word uttered by his prisoners
in an adjoining prison could be heard by him. —
Dionysius, son and successor of the preceding, and
80 apt an imitator of his cruel practices, that he wa«
finally driven from his thrr:ie, and, to eani his oread,
was compelled to teach a school at Corinth, whence
fallen despots are often compared to him.

Diploma (Gr.), a document on paper or parchment,
conferring power, authority, privilege, or honour.
Surgeons, clergymen, and other professional parties,
receive diplomas from their respective faculties.
Diplomacy, from the same root, refers to the cus-
toms, rules, privileges, and forms of negotiation
between state and state, as observed by their respec-
tive agents.

Diplomacy, international, nature of, 45,

Diseases, statistics of, 550.

Dispensary, the Provident, 542,

Distemper, in ordinary language, a diseased or morbid
stato of an animal body; an undue or unnatural
temper of mind. In painting, the mixing of colours
with something besides oil or water.

Distribution, ir Political Economy, 489.

Division, in Arithmetic, 596 ; in Algebra, 605,

Dodona, a town of Epirus, and the site of an oracle of
Jupiter, whose responses were frequently delivered
by or among the sacred oaks of the neighbourhood.

793

OHAMBSBffS UrrOBMATION FOB THE PEOPLB.

Doroeitic nUtioui uid Uutisi, AG!).

Dominica, iiland of, 317.

Domitian, a lioiuan ciiioeror, proverbial for hit cruelty,

Draco, a lawgiv«r of Atheni, whoio itatutei wero ao
lerero, that it wai luid they were written lu blood.
Ilarili edicti aro often compared to tliein.

Drama, the nature of, 7U3.

Draughts, pnmo of, O'lil,

Drawino, 626-63)1.

Dreami, auperatitiuuB belief in, 430.

Druidical templei, 215, 6U3.

Dryadei, nynipbi fabled to preaide over the woodi, U7.

Dublin, deacription and account of, 248.

Duenna (Span.), the name given to the chief ladv-in-
waiting upon the queen uf Spain; ceuerally fami-
liarly applied to ladiua who alvcud other* in a capa-
city aomewhat between a goverucis and cowpauiuu.

Dulcimer (Lat. duloe, iweet), 768.

Dundee, description and account of, 230,

Duns, in Archaeology, 679.

Duties OP Live, Piuvatu, 440-464; Public and Social,
465-480.

Earl, a British title of isobility, 48.

Earth, design in the structure of, .'i73.

Earthenware and china, in huuse-furuisliing, 770; how
to mend, 780.

Eaeel, the frame on which painters place their canvas.

Easter, in the liomiah calendar, 439.

Echo, a nymph whose powers of speech, as a punish-
ment for prating, were limited to the answering of
questions. Falling b''tcrwards in love with Narcissus,
tnav youth's cruelty caused her to pine away, and
the was changed to a stone, which still letaiug the
power of speech.

Economics, Social, 529-544,

Economy, Political, 481—196.

Ecuador or Equator, republic of, 308.

Edinburgh, description and account of, 2S6.

Education, as a Science, 561-576; statistics of, 557;
physical education, 561; moral, 562; intellectual,
568; industrial, 575; mechanism for education, 573;
in England, 181; in Ireland, 181; in Scotland, 182.

Egeria, a nymph or di ity, from whom Numa, king of
Rome, pretended to receive counsel in secret on
affairs of state,

Egypt and Egyptians, ancient, 7 1 ; modern, 275 ; an-
tiquities, 673; pyramids, 674; hieroglyphics, 675,

Electors, our duties as, 467,

Eleusis, a city of Attica, the chief scene of the cele-
bration of the Eleusinian Mysteries, U7.

Elizabeth, government and character of, 137.

Elysium, the happy seat of the departed spirits of the
good, according to the Greeks and Romans, 88.

Emotions, of the human mind, 331.

Empedocles, a man of superior talents, who, wishing
'.K' be deemed a god, leapt into the orater of ^tna,
thinking that he might so conceal his having beon
subject to death like common mortals. But his
sandal waa thrown up, and frustrated his insane
ambition.

Emporium (Lat.), originally and properly the town in
which the trade and commerce of a district centres;
now applied to any place of merchandise. In pa-
thology, the common sensory of the brain.

Emulation, duties regarding, 462.

Endymion, a youth of Latmos, beloved of the moon;
in frequent use by ihe poets.

Enoland, History of, see History of Great Britain and
Ireland, 129-176; description of, 209-224; super-
fiflial features, 209 ; geology, 209 ; hydrography,
210; climate, 211; botany and zoology, 210; po-
pulation, 212; national industry, 213; government,
213; scenery, 214; antiquities, 215; cities and
towns, 216; church of, 180.
Engravino, 721-731 ; on wood, 721 ; on steel and

copper, 726; on gems and seals, 730,
Enharmonic transition, in Music, 759.
Enry, crime jfj 4 02.
784

Eparainondas, a Theban chief, on« of the most noble
characters in Grecian history. A great and victo-
rious soldier, ho was even more conspicuous for vir-
tue, wisdom, temperance, and patriotism.
Epic poetry, nature of, 702.

Epicurus, a celebrated philosopher of Attican descent,
whose name has most unfairly become a synoiiyme
for a sensualist of a gross kind. His nhilosophv was
certainly based on the maxim that * Pleasure is the
highest good;' but Epicurus well knew, and ever
taught, that moderation in the gratification of the
senses is the sole means of attaining to true and
lasting pleasure; and that a 'happy life' rests fun-
damentally on health of body and tranquillity of
mind, possessions never to bo won or preserved by
excessive sensual indulgence. What propriety is
there in a word of such etymology a* the word ' epi-
cure,' when the daily diet of the man whose name
is BO abused consisted of 'barley-cake and water
from the spriiii,'!'
Epigram. — This term (Or, epigramma) originally merely
signified an inMcrifUion, and from this use the poetry
BO called derived its prevailing character. The Greek
epigram served alike for mottoes, mementos, pane-
gyrics, or epitaphs; now the epigram is expected to
possess a certain sinartneis of manner uid tharpuesi
of point and wit, 691.
Epiphany, festival of, 433.
Equations, in Algebra, 607.
Equity, law of, in England, 50.
Erilto, the Muse who preaiued over amorous verse,
EriSbus, an infernal deity, whose name is often used to

signify tho supnosed place of his abode.
Erotic (Gr. eiw, the principle of love), a term Applied

to certain kinds of amatory songs or poems.
Esoteric (Gr. private), an epithet opplied to the private
instructions and doctrines of Pythagoras — exoltriv
being the term applied to such as were openly pro-
fessed and taught.
Etching on copper, 726; on steel, 728; on glaif, 729;

on stone, 732.
Ethics — Moral Philosophy, 383.
Ethiopic or African variety of mankind, physical and

mental characteristics of, 4 ; history of, 65.
Ethnolooy, 1-16,

Etymology, in English Grammar, 577,
Euclid, analysis of his * Elements,' 617-624.
Euripides, a Greek poet, whose tragedies are marked

by great tenderness and elegance.
Europa, a beautiful woman, to whom the enamoured
Jupiter appeared in the form of a bull, and when
she thoughtlessly mounted on the back of the sup-
posed animal, carried her off. Sho eave name, it is
further fabled, to the European continent.
Europe, General Description op, 193-208.
Eurydice, wife of the poet and musiciar Orpheus.
When she died from the bite of a serpent, Orpheus
was so deeply grieved that he ventured to seek her
among the shades; and having, by his music, drawn
< iron tear« down Pluto's cheek,' was permitted by
the infernal chief to take his wife back to earth, on
condition that he did not turn to look on her till his
arrival there. He violated the condition, and lost
her for ever.
Evangelists, the four, 38').
Eventuality, organ of, in Phrenology, 349.
Evils, our duty regardintr, 474.
Exchange, in Political Economy, 487.
Excise duties, in Commerce, 502,
Exoteric. See Esoteric.
Exports and imports of Britain, 187.
Extravaganza (Ital.) : in music, any composition re-
markable for its incoherence and wildnesi.

Fabius, the name of a noble Roman house, the most
illustrious member of which was Quintus Fabius
Maxiruus. The alarming buccesses of the Cartha-
ginian, Hannibal, who defeated in succession all who
came againit him, received » notable cheek wbtu

INDEX, AND QLOflBARY OF TKRMl.

3; on glou, 729;

Fabiui took tbt oommand of the Roman anny. Hit
policy wai not to fight, but to wear out Hannibal,
then in a hoitile country ; and from tbii cireuni-
itance Fubiui received at the time the name of Cuno-
lator, *Tho Delayer or Iletitator,' Krer lince that
age, every cautioui commander has been called a
follower of the Fabian nolicy.
Fairiei, accoi-it of the, 420,
Falkland Islands, settlement of, .11 ;t.
Fallacies, in Logic, Wi.
Falsehood and truth, duties regarding, 4fi5.
Falsetto (Ital.): a musical term, sigiilfving a false voice
or artificial manner of singing, produced by tighten-
ing the ligaments of the glottis, and thus extending
the vocal compass about an octave higher. The
natural voice, or voice from the chest, is termed voce
di pttlo.
Faroe Islands. See Denmark, 205.
Fathers, the Christian, 397.
Faunalia. See Lupercalin.

Fauns.— The Fauns were minor rural deities, painted
as having the form of goats from the middle 'town,
wards, with the horns and ears of the same animals.
Faust or Faustus, his connection with the inveutiou of

printing, 706-706.
FoDruary, festival Calendar for, 4 .'14.
Feet, the, in personal economy, 7114.
Female sex, honour to, 4.57.
Fetishism, account of, 401.
Feudal system, origin of, IIC,
Fiddle or violin, in Music, 7(>5.
Fief (Fr.), in feudal law the name for an estate in lauds

held off a superior, 54.
Fife, musical instrument, 76().
Filters, for water, 7711.
Fire, escapes from, 775; how to light, 7 '6.
Firmness, sentiment of, in Phrenology, 345.
Firms See commercial terms, 409.
Fishes, lesign in the structure of, 375.
Fitness, emotion of, in Metaphysics, 333.
Flageolet, musical instrument, 76b',
Flies, how to destroy, in Household Economy, 775,
Floors, wooden, how to clean, 771.
Flora, a goddess of the Roman Pantheon, who presided
over flowers, gardens, orchards, and vineyards, and
was usually painted as crowned with flowers, and
holding the horn of plenty. She married Zephyrus,
the god of the west wind, and received from him the
privilege of immortal youth.
Florin (Fr.), a name given to difli'erent silver coins
current in several continental countries, especially in
Germany and Austria; the name also given to the
two -shilling piece recently coined in Britain. In
Austria, the florin is equal to 28. O^d, ; in Holland
and Western Germany, Is. Ud,; in Poland, 6d,; and
the Rhenish gold florin is equal to Gs. lid.
Flowers, how to preserve fresh, 7U2.
Flute, musical instrument, 766,
Folio (Lat.), a printer and bookbinder's term, 711,
Food, duties regarding, 460,
Foot-ball, game of, 655,
Form, organ of, in Phrenology, 347.
Forts, vitrified, in Archoeology, 679,
Forum, the market-place, and also the seat of a praeto-
rian court of justice in the Roman cities. The word
is now applied to courts of justice, whence the phrase
of forensic' or legal oratory.
Fount, an assortment of types, in Printing, 709.
Fractions, in Arithmetic, 599; in Algebra, 606,
France, description of, 193,
French-horn or Corno, in Mufia, 767.
Friendly societies, 533-536
Fugue, in luusical composi.ion, 764.
Fumigation and ventilation, 776.
Funds, minor economic, 544.

FurisB, the three Furies, named Aleclo, Afegara, and
Tiiiphone. These sisters were supposed to be the
ministers of Divine vengeance, punishins mortals on
euth both with extenaal erili and the nings of con-

Rcienon, and inflicting continued tormenti on the bad
in the infernal regions, 07.
Furniture and house-furnishing, 769; how to clean, 778.

Galatea, a sea-nyniph, in love with Auis, whom Poly-
phemus the ("yclop killed through jealousy,
(.':•", founder of phrenology, 337.
Gunymcdcii, a bc'iiutiful Phrygian youth, carried away
by Jupiter to be the cup-bearer of the uods in place
of HcbL*. An eagle conveyed him, and ho is usually
pictured on the buck of that bird.
Gauls, invasion of Rome by, 00,
(ientility, what it is, 4511.
GbOHETiiY, Pla.nu, 609-6'J4; solid, 620; spherical, 622;

logic of, 330'.
Germanic family, characteristics of, 2.
Germany, geographical description of, 202.
Gervon, a monstrous being with three heads, tlaln by

Hercules,
Ginger-beer, recipe for, 780,

Gladiatorii Ludi. — Gladiatorial sports, so called from

gladiut (a sword), were exhibitions at which slaves,

captives, and trained fighters, butchered one another

for the amusement of the people of Rome,

Glasgow, description and account of, 237.

Gloss and crystal, in house-furnishing, 770; how to

cut, 7liO.
Glyphography, art of, 729,

Gnome (Gr, gnomon, an interpreter) : an imaginary
being, supposed to inhabit the inner parts of the
earth. The Gnomes are represented as of small
stature, and are supposed to be the guardiaui of
mines, caverns, &c.
Golf, ancient game of, 653,
Good-Friday, festival of, 437,

Gordius, a Phrygian peasant, who, when hit country-
men were told by the oracle to enthrone the first
man whom they met going to the temple of Jupiter
in a car, had the good fortune to be found in that
situation. Immediately afterwards, he consecrated
his car in the temple, tying tho yoke to the draught
with such art that it could not be unloosed. Then
the report spread that the oracle had decreed the
empire of Asia to him who should untie the Gordian
Knot, Coming to the place, Alexander the Great
made short work of the difficulty by cutting the cord
with his sword, and thereupon he claimed to be tho
foretold ruler of Asia.
Gorgon, a name specially applied to Medusa, one of
three sisters who had wings of gold, and but one eye
for use among the three. The ' Gorgon's head,' or
* Medusa's head,' is frequently alluded to as signi-
ficant of an object of terror, because it was encircled
with snakes, and turned the beholder to stone,
GovEHNHGNT, Vahious Foums OF, 40-46,
Gracchus, the name of a noble family of republican
Rome, two members of which made themselves noted
for their revolutionary measures, 104,
Gramhah, Univeusal, 21-25; English, 577-603.
Grates, for houses, 769,

Gratitude and ingratitude, duties regarding, 460.
Grease spots, how to remove, 774,
Gheeck, Ancient History of, Bl-96 ; mythology of, 81 ;
religious rites of, 86; literature and fine arts of, 95,
96 ; Modern Greece, description of, 200.
Greenland, general description of, 297.
Grenada, new republic of, 301) ; island of, 316.
Guianc, territory of, described, 312.
Guillotine, instrument of execution, 687.
Guitar, musical instrument, 768.
Gules (red), a term in heraldry, 47.
Gunpowder plot, in English history, 141,446.
Guttcnberg, the father of printing, 705.
Gymnastic ExerciiiES, 641-647.

Habeas-CorpuB Act, 149,

Habeas Corpus, in Law, 63.

Habits, duties respecting the formation of, 453,

Habits, metaphygically conudered, 334, 352,

7»<

CHAMBttBCm INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLiS.

lUir, how to kMp Mid pmerro, 784.

lUir-dyfi, 7U4.

Hftlo/one, » priiicMi who grieved lo deeply for the Iom
of her fpouie at hb, that ihe wae leiit to that elo-
nient out of uity, chan((ed into a liin^iher. IloiiiK
favoured witn lereu civliii dayi for broodins, the
phraiu of ' Halcyon dayi* came to denote a time of
peaceful bapiiineu.

Ilallowo'en— All-llullow ovo, fettivnl of, 441.

IJania<lryadeii, rural nyniphi, who are lald to preside
over trevi.

llandifll-Monday, flnt Monday of the vear, 44n.

Hannibal, a fuinoui Cartha((iiiiun, who, when a buy,
wae made by hie father tu vow eternal enmity to
Rome. He fultlllcd in duo time the oath, proving
the moat daiij{erou« foe ever known to the Komnn*.
t^o great waa the prom.'no of hii early dava, that
before the age of twenty -lix he received the coni-
inand-in-chief of all the armic* of hii country. In
thii lituation he determined upon the bold «tep of
oroiiing the Alpi, and carrying war into the heart of
Italy. Hit pawage hai ever been viewed ai a wonder-
ful military feat, and wae partly nccompliehed, hii-
toriani tay, by his kindling large tirei, and pouring
vinegar on the heated rocks, which caused them to
rend or crumble in pieces. Onco in Italy, he de-
feated, one after another, all the commanders sent
against him from Rome, and for sixteen years held
that city in continuous alarm. At length the Ro-
mans sent a force to menace Carthago, and Hannibal
waa hastily recalled, only to be wholly Tanquished
near his native city by Scipio Africanus. A brief
peace was granted nfterwarda to Carthage; but mis-
trustful of his enemies, Hannibal fled to Syria, and
subsequently to Bithynia, where, his person being
demanded by the Itumans, he ended his life by
takuig poison, 1U3 u.c. The youthful vow and
acts of Hannibal meet with frequont notice in lite-
rature, 102.

Happiness, attainment of, 464.

Hardware and cutlery, in domestic economy, 77'^.

Harmonium, musical instrument, 76U.

Harmony, in Metaphysics, 333.

Harmony, nature of, in Music, 737, 744.

Harp, stringed musical instrument, 701.

Harpsichord, musical instrument, 76ti.

Hautboy or Oboe, musical instrument, 7()(<,

Health, duties regarding, 45U.

Hearing, as a sense, 32.').

Hebe, daughter of Jupiter and Juno, and the goddess
of youth, for which, in its beautiful forms, her name
is a synonyme. She was the first cup-bearer of the
gods.

Hebrides or Western Islands of Scotland, 2Xy.

Hecate, the goddess supposed to preside over enchant-
ments.

Hector, the roost valiant of the sons of King Priam .'I'
Troy, ultimately killed by Achilles. His name is
applied to brave men, and uot uiiirequently to
boastful ones, though Homer assigns noM; but tmly
great qualities to the Trojan prince.

Hujira or Hegira, era of, 41 1.

Helena, the most beautiful woman of her age, And
: V whose abduction from her husband, Meuelaus, king
of Sparta, by the Trojan prince Paris, caused the
siege and fall of Troy, all tne Greek princes having
united to effect her recovery. Helen was one of the
children of Leda by Jupiter. She was ultimately
restored to Menelaus.

Helicon, a mountain of liuuotia, sacred to the Muses,
who had a temple there.

HCliogabiilus, a Roman emperor, so extravagantly
devoted to the pleasures of the table, that his name
has become a synonyme for a gl'; 'ooa.

Heliograpby or sun-dnwing, 732.

Helots, a menial caste at Sparta, whoso name has
become significant of the most abject slavery, 90.

Heraldry, 46-48. .

Hercules, the most famous penouase of the heroic age
7HQ

of riroece. He Is the type of physical power In
painting and sculpture, and is always drawn with a
mighty club in his hand, 82.

Hero, a fair priestess of Venus, who, when her lover
lioander perished In swimming across the Helles-
pont, threw herself into the sea. She is often painted
with a torch in her hand, as a guide to the bold but
unfortunate swimmer.

Herodotus, a fumed historian of fireece, generally
stvled the * father of history.'

Ilesiod, a very early Rwotian poet of superior powers.

Hesperides, three celebrated nymphs, who, with a
dragon for a watchdog, were intrusted with the care
of .Tuno's golden apples, placed in a ganlen In the
neighbourhood, it was said, of Mount Atlas. Her-
cules, in one of his labours, carried off some of this
much-prized fruit. This story of the ap|iles of the
Hesperides is often used, by way of mmparison, to
signify things of ditHcult access and great rarity
and price.

Hieroglvphics, Egyptian, «7V

Hindooisin, account of, 70, 268, and 403.

Hindoostan or India, Ancient, history of, 69; ciistes
and population of, SO; antiquities of, 677; Vedas,
the, or ancient sacred books of tho Hindoos, 70 —
Modern, description and account of, 261-272; ter-
ritorial division, 2U2 ; civil history, 263 ; revenue
system of British India, 265 ; native populations,
267 ; religion, 268 ; products, 269 ; chief cities, 271.

Hippocrates, a physician of the isle of Cos, whose ex-
isting writings prove him to have made wonderful
advances, for his time. In the art of medicine, and
whoso name is yet often alluded to.

Hippocrcne, a fountain on Mount Helicon, the waters
of which are said to have given inspiration to poets,
because the hill was sacred to the Muses.

History of A.ncient Nations, 65-80; of Orkgce, 81-
96; OF Rome, 97-112; of the Middle Aues, 113-
120; OF Okkat Britain and Ireland, 129-176.

History, as a literary art, 69.5.

Hockey or shinty, game of, 6.^5.

Hogmanay, in Scotland, last day of the year, 448.

Holland, geographical description of, 203.

Holograph (fir. holoi, whole, and grapho, I write), a
law-term for a will entirely written by the hand of
the testator.

Homer, the greatest of the poeti of Greece, bom, ac-
cording to the most probable accounts, in the isle of
Chios. His name signifies * The Blind,' and he is
said not only to have suffered under this calamity,
but to have been a mendicant, or at least a wanderer
dependent on his minstrelsy for daily broad. Tho
combination of all the highest poetical qualities in
the writings of Homer, from terrible sublimity to the
tenderest pathoH, has been a fruitful source of asto-
nishment to tucceeding times, the rudeness of the
ag« in which he lived being considered. The ' Iliad'
anil the * Odvssey ' are his great works.

Honduras or Ijlelize, account of, 297.

Hope, faculty of, in Phrenology, 346.

Hurace, a Roman poet, whose lyrics and satires abound
in maxims which arc often and deservedly quoted.

Hortus siccus, how to form, 781.

House, choice and furnishing of, 769; order and ma-
nagement, 770; cleaning, 771 ; ventilation, &c, 776.

Household Hints, 769-78-!.

HouMrkeeping, economy of, 770.

Hul' sea-port, description of, 221.

Humour, in style, 692,

H III ling or shinty, game of, 655.

Husband and wife, relation of, 470.

Hybia, a mount of Sicily, famous for its fragrant thyme
and its honey.

Hydra, a many-headed monster killed by Hercules, tv
which an unruly rabble is often compared.

Hygeia, the goddess of health, daughter of iEscnlapius.

Hymen (or Hymtnoexu), the god of •aarriaee, whose
favour was solemnly invoked with song and sacrifice
by all esttering on the wedded state.

INDEXy AND OLOSSAnV OF TERMH.

^y»ic»l powtr in
»>K dr»wn with a

I when her lortr
rroii the Halloi-
• often p«iiiteii
u tu the bold but

reeco, gonerklly

upetior poweni.
•, who. with a
ed wit It the rant
a i^anien in the
int Atltti, ller-
oir lonie of thii
h(> a(i|)lei of the
f roiiipariion, to
nd great rarity

y of, 69; cnitet

of. 677; Vedai,

Hiiidooi, 70 —

26 i -272; ter-

> 263 ; revenue

ye populationi,

hiof citifla, 271.

Cog, whoae ex-

Tiade wonderful

t medicine, and

eon, the wafpr*
iration to poet«,

IBCS.

if Greece, 81-
)i.R Aats, 113-
. 129-176.

year, 448.

>3.

>ho, I write), a

i)y the hand of

•eece, bom, ac
I, in the iile of
nd,' and he ii
' thi« calamity,
'Mt a wanderer
y broad. The
al (jualitie* in
iblimity to the
lourcB of aito-
idoncas of the
. The 'Iliad'

latirea abound
idly quoted.

rder and ma-
on, &c. 778.

igrant thyme

Hercules, t«
ed.

-^sculapiug.
Tiage, whoae
and sacrifice

laniblci, veraei oompoMd of ihurt and long lyll^blei
alternately,

Iclrui, wn of Dwdalui, who, in (lying from Crete with
hii lire, Mared to near the lun m to melt the jointa
of the wingt made by hii father, and thereby fell
into the lea.

Iceland, deicription of, 21.'i.

Iconoclaem (Or. eikon, an imai{e, and htasma, a break-
ing), the act of breaking or dettroyin)? iiiia^oi or
•tatuet ; Iconoclait, one wbu dnatroyi inia^ea.

Iconography, a detoriptiou of itatue* and limilur
mouunientf of ancient art.

Ida, a mountain near Troy, where Pari* aiiiigned to
Venue the prize of beauty over .luno and Minerva.

Idealiim, in metaphyiici, the ayitcm or theory that
makes everything to contiit in idoaii, and deniei the
existence of material bodies; also the designation of
many and ditferent systems of philosophy, which
only agree in the common principle from which they
originate. This principle is the opposite of the Ideal
and the real— that is, of ideas and things; the con-
trariety of mind and body, or of spirit and matter.
An Idealist is one who holds the doctrines of idealism.

Ideality, organ of, in Phrenology, 346.

Idiom, a mode of speaking peculiar tn a langiiage or
dialect ; hence we speak Latiniams, Oallicisms,
Scotticisms, &c.

Ilissus, a river and river-god of Attica, reii arkable as
the subject of a noble extant piece of (jreuk statuary.

Ilium, a name for Troy; whence the term Iliad.

Illusions, spectral, 427.

Imbroglio (Ital.): in literature, the plot of a romance
or drama, when much peqilexed or complicated, in
said to be an imbro^io.

Imitation, in Metaphysics, 33.'>; in Phrenology, 317;
in musical composition, 764.

Imports and exports of Britain, 1U7.

Imprint, in letterpress-printing, the designation of the
place where, by whom, and when, a book is pub-
lished. Among the early printers it was inserted at
the end of the book, and was styled a cdophon.

Incombustible cloth, how to make, 780.

Indies, East. See Uindoogtun, 261-272.

Indies, West, general account of, 313-320.

Individuality, in Phrenology, 347.

Indorse (Lat. in, and dorsum, the back), to write on
the back of a paper nr muieu uitirument; hence to
assign or transfer u >. i, for example, by indorse-
ment. Indorsep, tliv i)erdon to whom a bill oi note
is indorsed, or i .^tugTi'^l by indorsement.

Induction, in L^v

Industry, naturv >[, ii t'olitical Economy, 498.

Infancy, maii%'«inM». of, 44!i.

Inflection »(' it-urds, m Graiuniar, 581.

Inhabitiveu«ss, in Phrenology, 340.

Ink-stains, bow to remove, 7/3-774.

Inks, sympathetic, 780; indelible, 781 ; common, 781.

Insects, design iu the structure of, 374; how to pre-
serve, 781.

Insignia (Lat.), a term applied to badges, or distin-
guished niarlcs of office or honour.

Instincts of the human mind, 327.

Intellect, the human, 328.

Intemperance, habit> of, 4>54.

Interest, in Arithmetic, 601 ; in Political Economy, 402.

Interjection, in Grammar, 580.

International duties, 477.

Inverness, description and account of, 240.

Invoice. See commercial terms, 50 1.

Involution and evolution, in Algebra, GOti.

lo, a beautiful woman, with whom Jupiter fell in love,
and whom he changed into a heifer, to preserve her
from the jealousy of Juno. The suspicious Juno
begged the heifer, and set Argub of the hundred
eyes to watch it; but Mercury, to oblige the superior
deity, killed the keeper, and set free the luetamor-
phoaed lady.

Ionian islands, description of, 201 .

Iphigvsiia, daughter of Agamemnon. That chief, while

at Aulia, on bis way to Troy, was detained by con-
trnry winds, and ffai told that only by the aaorlftce
of his daughter ti> Diana coulil the (Irrek flvet pro-
ceed ill Its course, lie reluctantly consented; bat
when Iphigenia was brought to the altar, she sud-
denly disuppoarod, nnd a goat was seen in \\nt place.
Diana carried her oil', says the story, to Ih> a priestess
(it Tuurlca.

Iri;i,ami), uiktorv ok. See History of Great llritain and
Ireland, I'.'()-I7';; description of, 24l-2Afi; super-
ficial features, 241 ; geology, 241 ; hydrography, 342;
climate, 243; botany and zoology, 21:1; population,
243; national industry, 244; roininerce, 24.V, govern-
ment and administration, 246 ; antiquities, 246 ;
province of Ijcinster specially described, 247; Mun-
stor, 2.^0; Ulster, 252; Connaught, 255.

Iris, the messenger of the queen of heaven, and the
goddess of the rainbow, the appearance of which was
held to indicate a mission of Iris to earth.

Isis, a celebrated female deity of tho Kgyptiana, wedded
to her brother Osiris.

Isthmla, solemn triennial games of the Greeks, which
derived their name from being celebrated on the
Isthmus of Corinth. Combats, races, and athletic
sports of every kind, were among the exhibitions,
and the poets also contended there for the prize of
the bays.

Italian republics, natu/e of the, 124.

Italy, description of, 198.

Ithaca, a small islet, now called Thiaki, in the Ionian
sea, famous as the kingdom of Ulysses.

Ixion, a king of Thessaly, who rendered himself so
odious on earth by the murder of his father-in-law,
that Jupiter, in misplaced compassion, took him up
to heaven. There, however, Ixion behaved so inso-
lently, that Jupiter struck hiiu down to the infernal
regions, and ordered him to bo tied with serpents to
a wheel, which, revolving for ever, rendered hii
punishment eternal.

Jamaica, island of, described, 315.

.lanuary, festival Calendar for, 433.

Janus, one of the primitive kings of Italy, placed after
his decease, on account of his equity, among the gods.
He was tho guardian of gates, and was represented
with two heads, probably to indicate the watchful-
ness required in such custodians. January was named
from this deified personage.

Jason, the leader of the Argonauts, with whom he went
to Colchis on the Ruxine Sea to regain the golden
fleece. Tho king of Colchis promised its reetoratlon
if Jason could tame certain flame -breathing bulls,
slay a dragon, and perform other difHcult feats.
Aided by Medea, the king's daughter, an adept in
all the arts of enchantment, the chief of the Argo-
nauts accomplished these tasks, and won the fleece;
after which he departed secretly, carrying Medea
with him as his wife, according to his solemn engage-
ment. Ueturning home, he found his father yEsou
too infirm to partake of his triumph; but the art of
Jledea restored the old man to youth. Jason sub-
sequently became unfaithful to Medea, and, roused
to madness, she itlew her own children before their
father's face.

Jesuit, one belonging to the society of Jesus, founded
by lenatius Loyola, a Spaniard, in 1534.

.Tews, tpe ancient, 75.

Judgment, metaphysically considered, 352.

Jugurtha, an illegitimate nephew of Micipsa, king of
Numidia, who slew his cousins, and seized their
throne. The historian Sallust has made his name
proverbial for cunning, daring, and cruelty.

Julian, an emperor of Rome in the fourth century A.B.,
usually named ' The Apostate,' from his having de-
serted Christianity for Paganism, after being trained
up to the former faith. He was, notwithstanding, a
man of many Virtues, and also of superior talents,
as bis acts, aa well as some of his extant writings.

sufficiently indicate.

797

OHAMBIRCrS mFOBUATIOir fOB TfiS FBOFLE.

Mf, flaitifkl Cklendftr for, 441 .

June, feitiral Cslendu for, 441.

Juno, lister and wife of Jupiter, and qneen of the
inythologieal heaven of Greece and Rome. Her
beauty was of a grand and stately kind, and not
feminine enough to fix the afToctlons of her husband,
whom she annoyed with her jealousies. Her most
famous acts consist of persecutions of his mortal
mistresses. She was almost universally worshipped,
fend had splendid temples at Argos, Olympia, Samos,
Carthage, and Rome. Her favour was peculiarly
implored by women, on account of her being the
patroness of marriage and childbirth ; and she was
also the assignor of power and riches, 86.

Jupiter, son of Saturn and Ops, king of hearen, and
ruler of all the gods. Saturn habitually devoured
his own children; but Qps deceived him at the birth
of Jupiter with a stone, and the child was saved.
On reaching the age of one year, he warred with the
giant-gods called Titans; and bfter conquering them,
and besides dethroning his father, became the supreme
deity and sole Wiclder of the dreadful thunder. It
would be fruitless to go over the actions ascribed to
Jupiter, which consist chiefly of low and often ridi-
culous amours. He was usually represented as a
being of majestic countenance, seated on a throne,
with a messenger-eagle at his feet, and a thunder-
bolt and sceptre in his hands. His chief temples
were at Dodona in Greece, and Ammon in Libya,
and he had numerous names, corresponding to the
lite of these or to some of his actions; as Jupiter
CapiuAinut (the Capitoline Jove), and Jupiter
Timan* (Jupiter the Thunderer), 86.

Jurors, duties of, 468.

Jury, trial by, 62.

Juvenal, an able and unsparing satirist of Rome in the
early times of the empire.

Key to the Calenuar, 433-448.
Keys, diversity of, in Music, 740.
Knives, table, how to clean, 772.
Koran, or record of the Mohammedan faith, 412.
Krishna, in Hindoo mythology, one of the incarnations
of the god Vishnu.

La Plata, or Argentine Republic, 310.

Labour, division of, 484; productiveness of, 485; price
of, 489; duties respecting, 452.

Labyrinth, any place with so many windings as to
render escape from it difficult. The most famous of
the several labyrinths mentioned by old writers was
the Cretan one, built to confine a monster called the
Minotaur.

LachSsii, one of the Fates, who spun the thread of
life, 87.

Lachrymatory (Lat. lachryma, a tear), a small glass
vessel or phial found in ancient Roman sepulchres,
in which it has been supposed that the tears of the
friends of the deceased were dropped, and preserved
with the ashes contained in the urn.

Laconia, a Peloponnesian district, of which Lacedeemon
was the capital. The people of the region spoke
little, and hence the application of the epithet Zaoonio
to concise talking or writing,

Lais, a Corinthian courtesan of such beauty and no-
toriety, that her name has become a synonyme for
others in her position.

Lamaism, account of, 408.

Lammas, term and festival of, 442.

Lancaster, House of, in English history, 133.

Land, rent or price of, in Political Economy, 493.

Landamman (Ger.), the title given in Switzerland to
the chief magistrate of a canton; applied also to the
president of the Swiss republia

Lanouaob, 17-32.

Language, organ of, in Phrenology, 349.

Languages of the globe, classification of, 29-32.

Laocoon,a Trojan prince, priest of Apollo, who, having
ofitoded Neptune, was strangled, with leveral of his

MM, by two enonnotM lerpfnt* which ianed from
the sea. This fable ha:< been rendered immortal by
an ancient sculptor, whose work on the lubjeet is yet
preserved.

Lapithse, a family or tribe descended from Apollo,
famous for having gained, with the aid of Herouks,
a dreadful battle against the Centaurs.

Lares, minor deities, supposed by the Romans to pre*
side over households, and represented by small
images, which the possessor always took with him
on a change of residence.

Largo (Ital.), in music, a slow movenient, one degree
quicker than adaffio ; larghetto, less slow than larso.

Latinus, king of the Italian aborigines, who gave hit
name to the Roman language.

Latona, mother of Apollo and Diana by Jupiter, and
worshipped in many temples.

Lavender-water, how to make, 784.

Laws, Histort and Nature of, 49-64; Roman or civil
law, 49; canon law, £3; feudal law, 53; law of
England, 56; law of Sootland, 62: French codes, 63.

Leander, a youth of Abydos, who, being in love with
Hero of Sestos, was wont nightly to swim across the
Hellespont to meet her, but wai at last drowned in
a storm.

Leaping, in Gymnastics, 642.

Lease (Fr. laisser), a law term for a conveyance of
lands or tenements (usually on consideration of rent
or other annual recompense), made for life, for years,
or at will ; but always for a leu time than the lessor
has in the premises; for if it were for the whoh in-
terest, it would be more properly an aisijfnmtnt than
a lease. The lessor is he who grants the lease ; the
lessee the person to whom it is given.

Leda, wife of Tyndarus of Sparta, visited by the «na-

, moured Jupiter in the form of a swan, and mother
of Helen, Clytemnestra, Castor, and Pollux.

Leeds, description of, 218.

Leith, description and account of, 237.

Lemonade, recipe for making, 780.

Leonidas, a renowned Spartan, who, when the Persians
invaded Greece with several millions of men, took
post at the Pass of Thermopylss with no more than
300 men, and, self-devoted to death, defended it for
three days, until he and all his companions perished,
after making fearful havoc among the enemy, 91,

Lethe, an infernal river, whose waters made those who
drank it forgetful of all the past. Lethe is a poetical
Sjrnonyme for oblivion.

Letterpress-Printing, 705-720.

Letters, formation of, 18.

Levee (Fr.), 1. The time of rising; 2. The ceremonial
visits which distinguished persons receive in the
morning, or at their rising. In this' Country, the
word is chiefly applied to the stated public occasions
on which the sovoreign receives visits from sueh
as are entitled, by rank or fortune, to that honour.

Lexicon (Gr,), a dictionary or book containing an alpha-
betical arrangement of the words of a language, with
the meaning of each; lexicology, the science of so
arranging and treating words; lexicography, the art
of writing or compiling a dictionary ; and lexitio-
grapher, one who writes or compiles such a work.

Libation (Lat.), the act of pouring & liquor— usually
wine, water, or milk — on sacrificial occasions; also,
the liquor so poured out. In familiar language, the
liquor drank on festive occasions; synonymous with
potations.

Lieutenant (Fr.), an officer who supplin the place of a
superior in his absence. In the army, the second
commissioned officer in a company; in the navy, th4
officer next in rank to a captain.

Life, duties of, private, 449-464; pubMc and loelal,
465-480,

LIFE-ASSURANCE, 524-628.

Light and shade, in Drawing, 634.

Lignography (lignum, wood, and grapho, I draw), an
afi'ected term for wood-engraving; hence alio ligno*
grapli for woodcut, 721.

Lit

Lid

nnDBJt, AND OtiCMSElAfiY 09 TERMS.

)h iMa«d from
d iromortol bj
B rabJMt if 7«t

from Apollo,
id of Heroulei,

omani to pre*
t«d hy sniall
sook with him

nt, on* degree
>ir than largo,
who gave hii

r Jtipit«r, and

loman or oiril
', 53; law of
nch codei, 63.
\ in loT* with
im across the
t drowned in

onreyanoe of
ration of rent
life, for years,
lan the lessor
the whok in-
ignmtnt than
le lease J the

by the ena>
and mother
lux.

the PertlAna
t men, took
> more than
fended it for
ns perished,
leniy, 91.
e those who
is a poetical

ceremonial
lire in the
Duntry, the
ic occasions
from Bueh
i honour.
g an alpha,
fuage, with
ence of «o
ly, the art
nd lexico*
t work,
^— usually
ions; also,
guage, the
mous with

place of a
□e second
nary, th4

dd «o«lal,

Iraw), an
MO ligno<

LIii»4B|rftT!og, proeeM ot, 720.

Literarr art, in Rhetoric, 701.

Lithoglyph (Or. lithoa, a stone, and glypho, I engrare),

an engrating on a precious stone or gem.
LiTHoasAPHT, art and practice of, 730.
LiTerpool, description and account of, 220.
LiTjr, one of the most Illustrious of the Roman h!sto-

nr.ns.
lloyd't List — a well-known periodical publication,

which eoiitaini a full accouu; of shipping intelli-

Sence. It derires its name from Lloyd's Coffee-
odse, so long celebrated as the resort of all classes
connected with the mercantile or shipping interest ;
and its importance in supplying full, trustworthy,
and early maritime information, cannot be easily
Overrated. For an ample account of the origin, rise,
and present condition of this establishment, see
'Chambers's Edinburgh Journal,' No. Ill, New
Series.

Loan societies, £36-538.

Locality, organ of, in Phrenology, 348.

Logarithms, 603.

Logging-stones, in England, 215.

Logic, 353-^368.

London, description and account of, 216.

Loo, ^°ame with cards, 671.

Lords, constitution of the House of, 177.

Lozenge (Fr.), in geometry, a figure with four equal
sides, having two acute and two obtuse angles; in
heraldry, a figure on which is represented the armo-
rial-bearings of maidens and widows; in confection-
ary and medicine, small cakes, so called from their
original form, to be chewed or held in the mouth till
dissolved.

Lucifers, how to make, 781.

Lucretia, a young and noble Roman matron, who fell
a victim to the licentious passion of the son of Tar-
quin, king of Ron<e. After her dishonour, she sum-
moned to her presence her husband and relatives,
and, disclosing her injuries to them, took away with
her own hands the life which she could no longer
endure. Junius Brutus took up the bleeding knife
which she had used, and swore up '^^ it to avenge her
death, an oath amply fulfilled.

Lucretius, a Roman poet, whose work on tho ' Nature
of Things ' {Natwra Rei-um) forms one of the best
expositions of the heathen philosophy.

Ludicrous, emotion of the, 333-346.

Lupercalia (Lat. lupus, a wolf, and arcere, to defend
irom), Roman festivals in honour of Pan or Faunus,
celebrated on the third day after the ides of Feb-
ruary, and repeated on the nones of December, under
the name of Faunalia, when the worshippers were
clothed with goatskins. These feasts were abolished
by Pope Oelasius in 496, on accou'^t of the many
disorders they occasioned.

Lute, a stringed instrument, 768.

Lycseum, a name originally given to the place where
Aristotle taught, and since applied to establishments
in some respects similar.

Lycurgus, a celebrated lawgiver of Sparta, whose
maxima all tended to make men live simply and
plainly, 89.

Lydians, the ancient, 79.

Lyre, a stringed instrument, 768.

Lyric poetry, nature of, 702.

Mab, in northern mythology the queen of the fairies, 421 .

Madness, attacks of, how to proceed in cases of, 776.

Madras, description and account of, 271.

Mse'vnder, a river of Asia Minor, so notable for its
windings as to have origiuated the word meander,
becring that meaning.

Maecenas, prime-minister to Augustus Coesar, and so
highly famed for his countenance of Virgil, Horace,
and other men of letters, that a literary patron has
sictre been commonly named a Mescenas.

Mssonides, a name applied to Homer, and from him,
in the plural, to the M'lses.

Mama Charta, or mat charter, 181.

Maia, mother of Mercury, by Jupiter.

Malay variety of mankind, physical and mt&isl dia-

racteristics of, 5.
Malaysia, geomphical description of, 281,
Malthus. his theory of population, 513.
Mammalii, design in the structure of, 977.
Man, Physical Histort op, 1-16.
Man, relation between and external nature. 371.
Manchester, description and account of, 217.
ManSs, a term applied by the ancients to the Mtlll «)f

the dead.
M.inkind, distribution of, 6; differences In ailatOffli«al
structure, 7; physical character, 10; mental oIUMC-
ter, 14; permanency of types, 16.
Manners, good — politeness, 457.
Manufactures, British, statistics of, 185-186.
Marathon, a plain of Attica, rrhere Miltlade* the
Athenian, with comparatively a mere handfUl of
men, routed the vast army of the Persians, 91.
Marble hearths and chimney-pieces, how to dean, 771.
March, festival Calendar for, 437.
Marius, a Roman of celebrity, who, from the rank of a
peasant, raised himself by his talents to the highest
o£Sces of the state. Reduced at one time to the
greatest danger and distress, he fled to Africa, add,
himself then a ruin, he sat down on the ruins of
Carthage. Again obtaining power, Marius glutted
his vengeance bv tho most inhuman massacres, and
died amid ihe blood he had spilt, 105.
Marlborough, his campaigns, 155.
Marriage, social nature of, 33; duties connected with,

469.
Marriages, statistics of, 546.

Mars, the god of war, son of Jupiter and Juno. He wae
represented as an armed figure in a chariot, driven
by Bellona, and drawn by two horses, wMch the
poets named Terror and Flight.
Mary, queen of Scots, 136-138.

Masters and servants, duties of, 472; relations of, 771.

Mausolus, king of Caria, so dearly beloved by his wife,

that at his death she drank up his ashes, and ereoted

to him a monument so splendid as to be deemed one

of the seven wonders of the world; hence the modem

word mattsoleum.

May, festival Calendar for, 440.

Mayor, chief municipal magistrate in England and

Ireland, functions of, 45.
Measure or rhythm, in Music, 739.
Measures and weights, British, 597.
Medea, princess of Colchis, aiid wife of Jason, cele-
brated for her magical arts, her restoration of the
youth of iEson, and her murder, when infuriated bv
jealousy, of the children born by her to her husband.
Modes, history of, 79.

Medusa, one of the Oorgor.s, whose frightful snake-
encircled head turned the beholders to stone. She
was slain by Persius, who placed her head on Mi-
nerva's shield, thence rendered unendurable by mor-
tal eyes.
Meetings, public, conduct at, 466.
Mehemet Ali, late pasha of Egypt, notice of hie life

and doings, 277.
Meleager, an ancient hero, celebrated for slaying the

monstrous Calydoniau boar.
Melody, in composition, 691 ; in Music, 737, 743.
Melpomene, the Muse who presided over tragedy.
Memnon, an aboriginal Ethiopian or Egyptian king,
to whose memory the people of Thebes raised a
colossal statue of black marble, wh>h had the won-
derful power of emitting musical sbi^nas when struck
by the rays of the rising and setting sun. Most
writers ascribe this phenomenon, which is often ad-
verted to, to the jugglery of the priests; but some
modem travellers, who have visited the yet extant
ruins of the statue, have fancied that it emits sounds
even at this day.
Menelaus, king of Sparta, the abduction of whose wife
Helen by Paris caused the Trojan war.

799

OHAMBERSfg JStOBXATIGS FOR THE PEOPLE.

Mtninntion, in Arithmetie, 603; in Geometry, 61fi.

Mentor, » name whioh Minerra awumed when ihe
became the guide of Telemachui in hit wanderings;
hence arieee a fiuniliar title for a oouniellor.

Meranry, otherwiie called Uermei, ion of Jupiter and
Maia, and herald of the godi. He preefded orer
oratory, commerce, and thiering, and conducted the
■piriti of men to the infernal region*, 86.

Metaphor, in literary composition!, 691.

MnAPHTUCB, 321-336; logic of, 368.

Metonymy, in Rhetoric, 692.

Mexico, deioription and account of, 304.

Meziotinto, a speoiei of engraTing, 727. ^

Mice, how to dentroy, 774.

Michaelmai-da^, term and festival, 443.

Midas, a Phrygian king, who, having uoi.e a favour to
Bacchus, waa requested by the god to ask what re-
ward he chose, and, out of foolish avarice, requested
that idl he touched might become gold. As his very
food was converted into that metal, he soon besought
the withdrawal of the gift, and was freed from it by
bathing in the river Pactolus, the sands of which
were turned to gold. For subsequently preferring
the music of Pan to that of Apollo, the latter gave
Midas the ears of an ass.

Middle Ages, Histobv of, 113-128.

Milo, an athlete of old, famous for his gre&t strength.
He could cany a large ox, kill it with a blow of his
fist, and finalfv eat it up iu one day.

Miltiades, the illustrious Athenian who commanded
at Marathon, and a^erwards died in prison, a sad
monument of human ingratitude.

Mind, The Human, 321-336.

Minerals, how to keep, 781.

Minerva, goddess of wisdom, war, and the arts and
adences, who sprung completely anued from Jupiter's
bnun, according to the fable, without a mother. She
is described as one of the most chaste and respectable
of all the deities; and though swayed at times by
passions far from divine, was a great benefactress of
mankind, who owed to her most of the liberal arts.
The name of Pallas was as often given to her as
Minerva; and from being the patron deity of Athens,
she was also called Athena, 87.

Minim, in musical time, 739.

Minion, a variety of type, in Printing, 709.

Minos, a famous king and lawgiver of Crete, who, for
his equity, was Appointed one of the judges of the
spirits of men after his decease. A monster called
the Minotaur was shut up in the labyrinth of Daeda-
lus; and Minos, severe though just, gave it the cap-
tive youth of Athens to devour, till Theseus slew it.

Misfortunes, our duty regarding, 474.

Mithridates, a name borne by several kings of Pontus,
one of whom, a man of supereminent talents, had
such a knowledge of pharmaceutical herbs that he
could counteract the effect of the most deadly
poisons; hence the use of the word milhridate as a
synonyme for an antidote to such drugs.

Mnemosyne, the goddess of Memory,' and mother of
the nine Muses by Jupiter.

Modulation, in Music, 754.

MoHAMMKDANisii—MoHABiKUD, 408-416; also 115.

Momus, the god of fuu and pleasantry, jester-general
and satirist of the mythological heaven.

Monarchy, monarchical governments, 41.

Monet, origin and nature of, 503; coined money, 504;
paper money, 505; in Political Economy, 491.

Mongolian variety of mankind, physical and mental
characteristics of, 4 ; history of, 67.

Monogamv (Gr. mono$, one, and gawu, marriage), mar-
riage with one wife, 33.

Montserrat, British West India Island, 817.

Moot or moat-hills, in Scotland, 235.

Moral Philosophy— Ethics, 383.

Morpheus, son and minister of Somnus, the god of
Slecip, He visited mortals in dreams.

Mortality, bills of — accounts of the number of births
and burials within a given district for every week,
699

month, quarter, or year. Sm Poi^ular Statiricb.
545-557.

Mortality, effects of seasons on, 551; effects of wealth
and civilisation on, 552; effects of increased wealth
and knowledge on, 555.

Kortality, rates of, in Life- Assurance, 525.

Multiplication, in Arithmetic, 595; in Algebra, 605.

Mummies, Egyptian, 72.

Musee, the nine Muses, daughters of Jnpi*tt and
Mnemosyne. Apollo was their patron, ano the con-
ductor of their ordiestra. From certain spots con-
secrated to them, the poets call theni the Pierian,
Castalian, and Aonian maids, 87.

Music, 737-768.

Muslin dress, how to clean, 774.

Myrmidons, an attached band of Thessalians who
accompanied Achilles to the war of Troy. Eager
followers of any description a^ familiarly caUed
by this title, as ' the mtfrmidoni 6f-the law.'

Naiads, certain minor goddesser.^who presided over
springs, fountuns, and rivei^'87.

Nails, how to clean the, 783.

Napoleon, wars with, 168-172.

Narcissus, a beautiful youth, who pined away and
finallv killed himself through love for his own image,
as reilected in a fountain. He was Mid to have beui
changed into the flower which bears his name.

Navy and army of Britain, 184.

Negro (Lat, Aiger, black) family, in Ethnology, 4; iu
History, 65. ,

Neighbours, our duties as, 468. ^

Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance, implacable to the
bad, but kind to the virtuous. «^

Neptune, god of the sea, which element was aMiigned
to him when Jupiter and Pluto, the two other chief
deities, assumed the sway of the other portions of
the universe. Neptune was represented in a chariot
of sea-shell, drawn by horses with wings, and in hi*
hand he hei'd a trident, the emblem of his autho-
rity, 86.

Nereus, a minor deity of the sea, represented as an
old man with a loqg beard, attended by fifty spor-
tive muids, hii daughters, who were called Nereids,
and were worsixipped by the ancients.

Nero, a Roman en.pero:, proverbially infamous for his
crimes and vioes. Originally a youth of promise,
Nero was quickly changed in character by the un-
bounded rul'i, too much for a mortal to possess, which
was then attached to the imperial throne. He as^-
sinated his own mother, and, for the ipere luxurv'of
the sight, set fire to the city of Rome. His employ^
ment during the fatal conflacration is shown by^jn'
sentence, ' Nero fi^'^led while Rome was b^rn!ng.'
He died ly his own hands, to escape the fuVy of his
outraged tountrymen.

Nestor, king of Pylos, who, at a very advanced ase,
went to the Troian war; and is so highly lauded by
Homer for his eloquence, that posterity have adopted
his name as a synonyme for a wise and venerable
old roan.

New Britain, in North America, 292.

New Brunswick, description and account of, 296.

New Grenada, republic of, 308.

New South Wales, account of, 283.

New Zealand, settlements of, 286.

Newcastle-on-Tyne, description and account of, 221.

Newfoundland, general account of, 297.

Nice, Council of, 897 ; creed, 397.

Niello (Ital.), a species of eqgraving, 726.

Nile, the, description and account of, 276.

Nineveh, ancient city of, 77.

Noroades, Nomadic society, 36.

Normans, conquer Britain, 130; their early kings, 131.

Norway, geographical description of, 206.

Notation, in Arithmetic, 593.

Noun, iu Grammar, 577; inflection of, 581.

Nova Scotia, description and account of, 295.

November, festival Calendar for, 444.

Nul

Obi
Ocl
OcJ

il
Ocl
Ocl
OdI
(£l

INDEX, AND GLOSSARY OF TERMS.

SrATisna.

Numa, a lovereign of Rome, proverbial for legislative
skill, which he afTected to owe to the cniiiisels of a
supernatural and secret visitant named Egeria.

Number, organ of, in Phrenology, 348.

Numeration, in Arithmetic, 594.

Nymphse, a general term applied to all the minor
goddesses of the land and sea, such as the Dryads,
Naiads, and Nereids. The nymphs were held not to
be immortal, but to live for several thousand years.

Oberon, king of the fairies, 420.
Oceana, geographical account of, 281,
Oceanides, sea-nymphs, daughters of Oceanus, and
numbering several thousands. Their father Oceanus,
like Coelus the Heaven, and Terra the Earth, was one
of the primitive diviiiities, and was totally different
from Neptune, being the creation of a much earlier
rtythology.
Octavo, a printer and bookbinder's term, 711.
October, festival Calendar for, 443.
Odin, in Scandinavian mythology, 417.
QSdipus, a king of Thebes, son of Laius and Jocasta.
Being exposed in youth, he had the misfortune to
kill his father and marry his mother ere he discovered
his parentage. These events made his story a sor-
rowful theme for the poets; but his name is now
chittfly familiar in the sense of an expounder of
riddles, because he solved the enigma proposed by a
talking monstsr called the Sphinx, and put un end
to its ravages.
Olynipia, a town of Elis in the Peloponnesus, where
the famous Olympic games were celebrated. These
were of great antiquity, and comprised not only
athletic exercises of every kind, chariot - racing,
aud the like, but also contentions in poetry, elo-
ouence, and the fine arts. The celebration took
'.i;. *? at the end of every four complete years, and
I ' .'e it became the fixed practice to measure time
.hose intervals, called Olympiads, 86.
Olympus, a mountain of Thessaly, which, from its nlti-
' tude, the ancients conceived to reach the heavens,

and which they made the home of the gods.
Oueiromancy (Gr. oneiros, a dream, and manteia, divi-
nation), divination or foretelling of events by dreams ;
firom the same source we have oneirology, the doc-
trine and theory of dreams.
Ophicleide, musical instrument, 707.
Opinions, duties regarding the forming of, 47(J.
Or (Lat. aitrum, gold), a term in heraldry, 47.
Oratorio (Ital.), a sacred musical composition, consist-
ing of airs, recitations, duets, trios, choruses, &c. the
subject of which is generally taken from Scripture.
Orcus, a name of Pluto, frequently used to signify the

nether regions.
Order, organ of, in Phrenology, 349.
Oreads, the goddess-nymphs of the mountains.
Orestes, the son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra,
and the avenger on the latter of his sire's murder.
Pursued in consequence by the Furies, Orestes could
find peace no where, though tenderly consoled and
supported by Pylades, whose name and his own have
become proverbial for bosom friendship. Orestes
was at length purified from stain by bringing the
Taurican statue of Diana to (Jreece.
Organ, musical instrument, 7()7.

Orgies (Or.), frantic revels at tlie feast in lionour of
Bacchus, which was held during the night; hence tlie
familiar term 'nocturnal orgies' for any midnight
licenes of riot and dissipation.
Oriliumb or oriflamme, the ancient royal standard of
the kings of Franco —

' And be your orljUvuine to liay tho liulinct of XiiviiiTc.'

Orion, a gigantic personage, who, after various adven-
tures on earth, had the honour of being elevated to
a place among the constellations.

Orpheus, the most famous of the early poets and
musicians of Oreece, who, by his art, could not only
' charm the savage breast,' but cause mountains to
No. 100, I)

dance and streams to pause in their course. On tho
death of his wife Eurydice, he went to seok her, and
so enchanted Pluto with his strains, that the god
gave back his spouse to him, only stipulating that ho
should not look upon her till the earth was .uached.
But Orpheus turned to gaze, and Eurydice was lost.

Orris-root, the raot of the lAs Florentina, used in per-
fumery. See the toilet,

Osiris, a great Egyptian deity.

Ossa, a lofty mount of Thessaly, said to have been
moved by the giant Titans, when they sought to
scale tho heavens. Hence the well-known allusion
to the piling of Pelion, another hill, on Ossa.

Ostracism, banishment from Athens, 90; also applied
generally to exile, whether voluntary or compulsory.

Ovid, a poet of Rome, noted for the ease and elegance
of his verse, but stained by irumoralities of thought
and diction.

Pactolus, a river of Lydia, the sands of which were
said to be converted into gold when Midas dipt his
hands in them.

Poean, a hymn sung in honour of the Pythiau Apollo.

Pagan Religions — Paganism, 401-408.

Pain, metaphysically considered, 332, 352.

Painting, Art of, 638-640.

Palestine, ancient history of, 75.

Palillogy (Or. palk, again, and logos, a word), in
rhetoric, the repetition of a word or part of a sen-
tence for the sake of effect, as

' The 1 iCKj) —

Sl'jop that knits up the riM'eUed , row of care.'

Pulinurus, a pilot who has given a name to his craft

from his skill in guiding the bark of ililneas.
Palladium, a famous colossal statue of Pallas-Minerva,
on which the city of Troy, in which it stood, de-
pended for preservation. It >ms stolen by the
Greeks, The importance of the statue to Troy has
originated such phrases as the * Palladium of our
liberties,' applied to importf/nt privileges, statutes,
and the like.
Palm-Sunday, festival of, 437.

Pan, the god of shepherds, imntsmen, and rustics
generally, and son of Mercury, He was painted
like the satyrs, having horns and the limbs of a
goat. He invented the fluti w'th seven reeds, Pau
was worshipped very extcnsi •sly, but particularly
in Arcadia, where he had an oracular temple on
Mount Lycieus, 87,

Panacea, the skilful daughter of the medicine -god
i^sculapius, from wh<)se name originated a word
signifying a universal cure.

Pandora, the first woman, according to some ancient
writers. Jupiter, wishing to punish the Titan Prome-
theus, caused Pandora to be made of clay, and each
ef the deities bestowed some personal gift on her.
She was then sent with a closed box to Prometheus,
but he suspected some artifice, and sent her away.
His brother was less cautious, and wedded Pandora,
from whose box, when opened, there issued all the
ills that have since afflicted mankind. As a euro
for these ills, Hope only remained upon earth.

Pantheism (Or. pan, all; and theos, God). In meta-
physical theology, this term is applied to the theory
which identifies r.' ture or the universe with God ;
pantheist, one who adopts the theory of Spinosa, that
the universe, in its complicated but harmonious ru-
lutions and developments, is (iod.

Pantheon, a temple of Uome, dedicated, as its naiuo
implies, to all the r,ods.

Papor-hangings, how to clean, 772.

Paphos (now Hafo), a city of Cyprus, from which Venus,
to whom that isle was sacred, frequently receives tho
name of the Paphian goddess.

Paraguay, account of, 310,

Parallel line» in Geometry, 612.

Parccc, the poweriul goddesses called the Fates, who
were named Clo..ho, Lachesis, and Atropos, The

801

CHAMBVBS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

deoraes of the Fatei were unchangeable even by the
greatest of the gods, and thej were worshipped wit?i
more true deroutness, per^^aps, than any other sup
posed divinities, 87.

Paris, son of Priam of Troy, exposed ui infancy because
hi* mother Hecuba dreamt that she *)ad brought
forth a fatal torch. Educated as a shepherd on
Mount Ida, Paris was chosen to decide on the Ct-m-
parative beauty of Juno, Minerva, and Venus, when
these deities were rivals for a golden apple, inscnbed
by the goddess Discord with the words, ' lo be given
to the fairest.' Paris decided for Venus, who so fa-
voured him in consequence, that he persuaded Helen,
the most beautiful woman of the ago, to fly with him
to Troy. But all the Greek princes joined in resent-
ing the injury, and Paris proved, indeed, the fire-
brand by which Tro ^i.s ruined. The judgment of
Paris and the app' ^Z Discord are the subjects of
many classical allusions.

Parliament, British, origin of, 131 ; constitution of, 177.

Parnassus, a very lofty mountain of Greece, to which,
as the supposed favourite seat of Apollo and the
Muses, poets have looked in all times for inspiration.

Parsing, in English Gramm^tr, 580.

Parthenon, a splendid temple of Minerva at Athens,
adorned by the works of the sculptor Phidias. See
Vol. I., p. 435.

Passover, a solemn festival of the Jews in commemora-
tion of their deliverance from the destroying angel on
the night previous to their departure from Egypt,
when the firet-born of the Egyptians were put to
death, and the houses of the Israelites passed over —
they being markc.1 with the blood of the paschal
lamb.

Patagonia, territory of, 313.

Pathos, in literary compositions, 6.02.

Patriarch, patriarchal society, 3G.

Patroclus, the bosom-friend of Achilles, slain by Hector
before the walls of Troy.

Patrons and clients, Roman, 98.

Pawnbroking, benevolent, 540.

Peace of mind, importance of, 463.

Pcdtfstrianism (Lat. pea, a, foot), feats in, C44-C47.

Pe^'asus, a winged horse given by Minerva to Bellero-
plion when he went to combat the monster termed
the Chima:ra. Requiring a lofty flight, the poets
frequently choose to imagine their motions aided
by a Pegasus.

Pelion, a Thessalian mount, on which Ossa was plied
when the Titans Eiught to scale heaven.

Peloponnesus, the ancient name for the ^lorea.

Penate? a class of inferior gods who presided over the
ii::i!Ost recesses of households.

Penvlope, wife of Ulysses, king of Ithaciv, famous for
her fidelity to her husband during his long absence,
despite the assaults of numerous importunate suitors.
To deceive these, she eaid that she would wed when
a certain piece of tapestry was finished by her, but
the work done by day the chaste matron undid by
night. Hence the phrase of Penelope's Web, applied
to cases where progress is similarly retarded.

Peninsula (Lat. pene, almost, and insula, an island), a
geographical term applied to any projecting portion
of la'.d connected with the mainland by a narrow
neck or isthmus ; applied par excellence to Spain tnd
Portugal as the grand peninsula of Europe.

Peninsular war nid campaigns, 1G9.

Pentsteueh, the, Iiistory of, 386.

Penthesilea, a (jn'cn of the Anmzona, proverbial for her
boldness in v.ir, and slain by Achilles before Troy.

Pericles, a renowned warrior, statesman, and orator of
Athens, 91.

Peripatetic Sect. — The pupils of Aristotle, so named
(from the Greek) because instructed by him while
w,all.iiig.

Perseus, son of Danae by Jupiter; exposed in infancy

with his niotlicr in a small bark, but preserved to

fulfil the decrees of Fate by atxidcutally killing hia

grandsire. Perseus became a renowned hero, slajing

80'J

the Gorgo ^ Medusa, among other feats, by the aid of
Pluto's invisible helmet and Minerva's shield. He
also relieved Andromeda, an Ethiopian princess, from
a sea-monster, to which she was exposed in chains.
After his death, Perseus received the honours of a
demigod, and poets and painters have dwelt much on
the supposed incidents of his career.

Persians, the ancient, 79; Persian Empire, 70,

Perspective Drawing, 627.

Persuasion, in Rhetoric, 698.

Perth, description and account of, 240.

Peru, description and account of, UU8.

Pctronius (Arbiter), a favourite of Nero, often named
in connection wiih gaieties and revels, from his being
the caterer for amusement (arbiter elegautiarum) to
that prince.

Phaeton, son of the tun-god Phoabus-Apollo by the
nymph Clymene. Taunted as of unknown birth by
his youthful companions, Pheeton is said to have
visited th? palace of the sun, and to h%ve received
from his sire a solemn promise that ivhatever he
asked should be granted. The vain youth asked to
rl^ive the chariot of the sun for one day, and, bound
by oath, Phoebus was reluctantly forced to comply.
The issue was that the fiery steeds became un-
manageable; and to prevent a universal conflagra-
tion, Jupiter struck Pheeton to the earth with a
thunderbolt. His death was so deeply mourned by
his sisten, that in pity they were changed to
poplars. Phteton is a byword fov rash ambition.

Phalaris, a cruel Sicilian tyrant, who caused a brazen
bull to be made for the purposes of tortur), and
consigned to it the inventor Ferillus as the first
victim.

Pharos, an islet in the bay of Alexandria, on which
was a splendid lighthouse, deemed by the ancients
one of the seven wonders of the world ; sometimes
used as a general term for a lighthouse.

Pharsalia, a place in Greece where the republican
liberties of Rome received the final blow from the
hands of Julius Csesar, his great opponent Pompey
being there conquered by hiti.

Phidias, the most illostrious of Greek sculptors.

Philip, a famous Macv Ionian monarch, father of Alex-
ander the Great, b/ his great valour and consum-
mate address Philip enlarged his dominions, and
gained a fatal ascendancy over the free republics of
Greece. Trained in youth in the schools of Thebes,
ho polished and disciplined his rude subjects, and
raised them from a secondary to a primary position
among their iieighbours. Philip was an ambitious
and unprincipled man, though capable of generous
and even noble actions. His barbarian-like indul-
gence in drinking has been made memorable by the
words of a claimant for justice at his hands: 'I
appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober,' was the
reproof, and he bore it calmly. From the denun-
ciations of him by Demosthenes, such oratorial in-
vectives have been called Philippics.

Philology (Gr. phileo, I love, and iogoi, a word or dis-
course), the science which treats of language in
general ; its history, progress, and development
among the various nations of the globe, 17.

Philomela, sister of Progne, who was wife to Tereus,
king of Thrace. While bringing Philomela to see
her sister, Tereus ofiered violence to her; and after
cutting out her tongue to prevent discovery, confined
her in a lonely castle. He then told Progne that
her sister had died by tho way, but the former de-
tected the falsehood by means of a piece of tapestry
wrought by Philomela. The infuriated wife of
Turcus slew and served up to him his own sou in a
dish, on discovering which ho would have slain her,
but was on tlie spot changed into a hoopoe, while
tho son's remains became a pheasant, I'rogne a
swallow, and Philomela a nightingale. The night-
ingale yet bears this name, and is supposed by the
poets to wail her sad fate in the sounds * Teru !
Terui'

Ph
Ph
Ph
Ph
Ph
Ph
Pia
Pi(
Pic
Pi<
Pi«

Pit
Pi:

IKDEX, AND GLOSSARY OF TERMS.

to Tereus,
ela to see
and after
f, conitned
:ogne that
[briiier de-
f tapestry
wife of
son in a
sliin her,
poe, while
I'rogno tt
he night-
id by the
I 'Teru!

Philoprogenitireneas, in Phrenology, 340.

Phcebe, a name given to Diana in the character of the

moon, 86.
Phoenicians, history of, 73j commerce of, 74.
Phormium tenaz, or New Zealand flax, 287.
Photogenic Drawing or Photography, 732.
Photography, 732-736.
PHRENOLOor, 837-352.
Physiology, logic of the science, 367.
Pianoforte, musical instrument, 768.
Pica, a variety of type, in Printing, 7U9.
Piccolo, :nusical instrument, 766.
Picture-frames, how to clean, 772.
Pieria, a spot in Thessaly, which gav. the epithet

Pierian to the Muses.
Pindar, a poet of Thebes in Boeotia, justly regarded as
the prince of lyric poetry. His odes are without
parallel for iiublimity and fire.
PirithSus, an ancient hero, betwixt whom and Theseus
(0 strong a friendship existed, that the pair are quoted
as models of that sentiment.
Pittacus, one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece.
Pix: (Lat.;, the little box or chest in which the conse-
crated host of the Roman Catholic Church is kept.
A box kept at the British Mint, in which a small
sample of the coins struck is deposited, in order to
be assayed and compared with a standard prei<erved
in the Exchequer. This operation, nailed ' trial of
the pix,' is performed in presence of certain members
of the Privy-Council, the officers of the Mint, and a
jury of the Goldsmiths' Company.
Planetary system, design in, 369.
Plants, how to dry and preserve, 701.
Plato, a philosopher of Athenian descent, whose name
stands at the head of his class amonz the Greeks.
He was a disciple of Soor&tes, and founded the school
of Academics. Plato laboured to construct a great
system of metaphysics, morals, and policy, and dis-
played his own genius in eliciting many profound
isolated truths; but, as a whole, his system is but a
maze of ingenious conjecture. The phrase ' Platonic
love,' indicating an affection seated merely in the
mind, is derived from some principles evolved in his
account tf an imaginary and perfect republic.
Pleides, tl\e seven daughters of Atlas, placed at their

death among the constellations.
Pliny. — Two member': of the Pliny family, uncle and
nephew, have left brilliant names in Roman litera-
ture. The elder Pliny wrote many works, but his
• Natural History,' a production aliKe full of truths
nnd absurdities, has alone been preserved; and ^f
the younger Pliny, the 'Letters' are still extant
The uncle perished in an eruption of Vesuvius,
A.D. 79.
Plutarch, a Greek historical biographer, whose valuable
works have given a name to many compositions of
the same class.
Pluto, one of the sons of Saturn, and king of the in-
ferK?.! regions. He married Proserpine, the daughter
of Certs, having borne her off from Sicily while
gathering flowers — ' herself a fairer flower.' Black
bulls were most frequently sacrificed to Pluto, who
is represented as a grim figure, with a two-pronged
trident in his hand, and keys, to indicate his close
wardship of the dead. H*? eat on a throne of sul-
phur, and around him were his gloomy courtiers, the
Fates, the Furies, and other infernal powers. Dis,
Ades, Orcus, are names sometimes given to Pluto, 86.
Plutus, the god of riches among the ancients, painted

as blind.
Plymouth, naval station of, 223,
Poetry, in Rhetoric, 701.
Politeness, good manners, 457.
Political Economt, 481-496.
Pollux, son of Leda, and brother to Castor, raised to a

place among the stars.
Polygamy (Gr. polf/s, many, garni, mar lage), 33.
Polyhymnia, the muse of singing and rhetoric, 87.
Polynesia, geographical account of^ 288.

Polyphemus, a gigantic Cyclop, whose one eye Ulysseg
burnt out with a firebrand, on being captured by the
monster. The story is told in the ' Odyssey.'
Polysynthetic (Gr.), a term applied to the aboriginal
American laii^ages, from their excessive tendency
to agglutinate" syllables into long words, 32.
Pomades, recipes for, 784.
Pomatum, how to make, 784.

Pomona, a Roman deity, who had charge of gardens
and fruit-trees. She had vowed to live single; but
changing himself into an old woman, as the pretty
fable runs, Vertumnus, the god of spring, induced
her to change her purpose.
Pompey. — The family of Pompey was a famous one at
Rome, but chiefly rendered eminent by one member,
called Pompey the Great. The conquests of this
Roman were of vast extent, and his trmmphs nume-
rous, while his character is described as noble in the
extreme. But though Pompey married the daughter of
Julius Caesar to cement their friendship, two men of
such aspiring minds could not co-exist in peace in
Rome. They turned their arms against one another,
and at Pharsalia Ca-sar proved the conqueror. Pom-
pey fled to Egypt, and was there basely ivnd ungrate-
fully murdered, 107-109.
Poor, arrangements for, in England, 517; in Scotland,

621; in Ireland, f "23.
Poor- Laws, 517-524.
Pope, origin of the terra and oflice, 398.
Population, theories respecting, 513-517.
Portsmouth, naval utatiou of, 222.
Portugal and Spain, description of, 195.
Potashes, manufacture of, 779.
Praxiteles, a native of Cnldus, famous for his skill in

statuary.
Preposition, in Grammar, 579.
Presses, printing, varieties of, 714-720; copperplate,

728; lithographic, 732.
Priam, king of Iroy, an aged man when the Greek

princes besieged and took his city,
Priapus, a son of Bacchus and A'enus, whose statues,

set up in gardens, were of a very offensive nature.
Pride and self-reapect, 459.
Prince Edward's Island, account of, 296.
Printino, Letterpress, 705-720; origin and history
of, 705-711 ; process of, 711-720. Plate Printing,
728; Lithographic Printing, 732.
Priscianus, a grammarian of the Greek Empire, whose
name is oflen quoted in reference to correctness of
language.
Procrustes, a robber chief of Attica, who was wont to
bind travellers down to a bed, and to cut uff a portion
of their bodies, or to .ack these out, if they chanced
in either way not to fit the couch. He was killed
b7 Theseus. The led of Procrustes is a familiar
allusion.
Production, in Political Economy, 496.
Profanitj', crime of, 416.

Progression, arithmetical, 597 ; geometrical, 599,
Prometheus, one of the Titanic race, famed for hia
knowledge and address, and capable of deceiving
Jupiter himself. To punish a fraud exercised upon
him, that god took away fire from mankind, but
Prometheus cloiub the heavens and regained the
element by theft. Jupiter, still more provoked, sent
down Pandora with a box of ills, but Prometheus
was too cautiou"! to accept the gift. The supreme
deity, however, chastised him by chaining him to
Mount Caucasus, and sent a vulture to feed perpe-
tually on his liver, which still remained undimi-
nished. Hercules at length set the sufferer free.
The stealing of the fire is supposed to refer to the
discovery of its use ; and Prometheus, whose story
is often referred to, is called the inventor of many
useful arts.
Pronoun, in Grammar, 578,

Propertius, one of the secondary Roman poets, author
of many beautiful though not perfectly moral com-
I positions.

808

OHAMBEBS'S INFORMi^TION FOR THE "EOPLE.

Prophe;!, the books of the, 383.

Prcportion, or Rule of Three, 600.

PropoBitions aud aHertioni, in Logic, 356.

Proserpine, the daughter of Ceres, and wife of Pluto,
permitted to speud half the year in heaven at her
mother's intreaties. The changes of the moon are
supposed to be indicated here. Proserpine was uni-
versally worshipped, sometimes under the name of
Libitina, Hecate, and Libera.

Proteus, a sea deity, who possessed the gift of prophecy,
but was difficult of access, and unless properly
chained, had the power of assuming different shapes
to elude his interrogators. Proteus affords a fa-
vourite similitude to express a change of form or
purpose.

Provost, chief municipal magistrate in Scotland, func-
tions of, ^5.

Prussia, geographical desc ' i' ' n of, 'J07.

Psaltery, a stringed ins'-ur , 761).

Psvchtf, a beauteous nym^ .' jcn Cupid married and
long lived with in a ,^ta'. of oiiss. Venus put her
to death, but Jupitei in pity made her afterwards
immortal. As Psyche means the soul, this story is
thought to present a personification of it ; and to
indicate the light ethereality of the soul, Psyche is
painted with the wings of a butterfly.

Ptolemy. — The Ptolemies were a race of sovereigns,
descended from a general of Alexander the Great
who obtained the throne of Egypt.

Punctuation, in Grammar, 590.

Punica Fides.— The Romans in their enmity called the
Carthaginian or Punic people extremely treacherous,
and hence sprung the phrase Punica Jides (Punic
faith), to express utter faithlei, less.

Pygmalion, a sculptor of Cyprus, who, having made a
beautiful ivory statue of a female, fell in love with
his own work, aud by his prayers moved Venus to
animate it. This fable is the theme of frequent
allusion.

Pylades, a prince of Phocis, bound so closely in the
bands of friendship with Orestes, that they are cited
as exemplars of that feeling in its strongest form.

Pyramids of Egypt, 674 ; vignette to No. 55.

Pyramus, a youth of Babylon, attached to Thisbe,
whom, from the hostility of their parents, he could
only converse with through i\ chink in tho wall be-
twixt their habitations. The lovers, however, ap-
pointed to meet at the tomb of Ninus. Thisbe arriv-
ing first, was frightened away by a lioness, which,
with bloody jaws, tore a scarf dropped in her flight.
Pyramus saw this article, and believing Thisbe dead,
slew himself. The distracted maiden, on her return,
follu\red him to the tomb.

Pyrrha, wife of Deucalion, and saved with him from
the great Thessalian deluge. By throwing stones
behind her she is fabled to have repeopled the earth
with women, as Deucalion supplied it with men.

Pythagoras, a celebrated philosopher of Samos, who,
amid many useful doctrines, taught the curious one
of the transmigration of souls, and even said that he
remembered what bodies he had occupied before.
He made his pupils keep sil'iice for many years.
The greatness of his real ta .iits is shown by his
assertion, that the planets ii> ve round the sun as a
centre — an idea laughed at in his own time, but since
established as a certainty.

Pythia (Pythonees), the priestess of Apollo at Delphi,
who, inspired by vapours from the earth, delivered,
amid convulsive writhings, the oracles of the deity.
:jee Delphic oracle, 88.

Python, a serpent killed by Apollo, from which his
priestess received her name, as he himself was called
the Pythian god.

Quadrilateral or four-sided figures, in Geometry, 6 1 3.
Quadrilles, various, 672.
Quartett (Lat. quartus, four), in Music, 765.
Quarto, a printer and bookbinder's term, 711.
Quaver, semi, and demisemi, in Music, 739.
U04

Quiddity, an obsolete scholastic term for essence;

quiddit, a subtilty.
Quuitett (Lat. ^ninttu, five), in Music, 765.
Quoits, game of, 655.

Rack, an ancient instrument of torture, 687.

Racket, game of, 655.

Railways of Great Britain and Ireland, 180.

Rank and condition, duties regarding, 477.

Ranks and titles, 48.

Ratiocination or argumentative inference, in Logic, 358.

Ratios, in Arithmetic, 599. <

Rats, how to get rid of, 774.

Razors and razor-pastes, 782. _

Re'.reations and amusements, duties regarding, 477.

Recreations, Out-of-Doob, 647-656.

Reels, Scotch, 672.

Reflex actions, 322.

Reformation, the, in Britain, 135.

Regulus, a Roman consul, who, in warring with
Carthage, was taken prisoner, and afterwards sent
home to negotiate a peace. Aware of the reduced
state of their enemy, Regulus advised the Romans
not to agree to a cessation of hostilities. The noble
prisoner thus sealed his own doom, as he was bound,
if peace was not obtained, to return to Carthage.
He did so, and underwent, after cruel tortures, the
horrible death of being shut up in a barrel pierced
on all sides with sharp spikes. His devotion to his
country and his promise have gained him an undying
name; see History of Rome.

Religious obligations, 479.

Rent or price of land, in Political Economy, 493.

Reptiles, design in the structure of, 375.

Republics, republican governments, 42.

Revolutions, in Civil Government, 43.

RhadamanthuB, brother of Minos, and so famous for
his equity on earth, as to have been appointed one of
the judges of the dead.

Rhetoric and Belles Lbttrrs, 689-704.

Rhythm or measure, iu Music, 739.

Richard Cceur de Lion, 131.

Roads of Great Britain and Ireland, 1 88.

Rogation Sunday, origin of, 439.

Roman antiquities in Britain, C85.

Roman Catholic Church, " '>.

Rome, Histobv of, 97-1 1<s.

Romulus and Remus, the two brothers who founded
Rome, were fabled by their proud descendants to be
the sons of Murs by a princess of Italy. They were
exposed in infancy, but were saved and suckled by a
she-wolf. The twins, on reaching manhood, resolved
to found a city; but, for a trifling offence, Remus was
slain by his brother. Romulus, however, with a band
of fugitives and criminals, founded Rome; and as the
neighbouring tribes despised his followers, he carried
off mates for them from among the women of the
Sabine nation. This '.bduction was often adverted to
by the descendants of its authors. Romulus reigned
thirty-nine years, and was then carried up to heaven,
according to a story invented, most probably, to con-
f^eal his assassination. He received divine honours
after his death, 98.

Roscius, a Roman actor of such celebilvy, that every
distinguished follower of that profession has received
his name.

Roses, war of the, in English history, 133.

Rosicruscians, account of the, 432.

Rubicon, now Rugonc, a small stream of Italy, which,
after long hesitation, Julius Caesar crossed, thus
throwing off allegiance to the Roman senate, and
affording a lasting simile for the taking of any de-
cisive and hazardous step.

Running, as a gymnastic exercise, 644.

Russia, geographical description of, 207.

Sabines, a primitive Italian people, from among whom
Romulus carried off wives for hia followen on found-
ing Rome.

Saci
Sad
Sail
ic
a(
Sap

Sar

INDEX, AND GLOSSARY OP TERMS.

Sackbut or Trombone, 767.
Sadler, hii theory of population, 515.
Salluit, a Roman biitorian, whoae worki, tliou);h not
lengthened, are justly valued for their Btyle and
accuracy.
Sappho, a famoui poetess of Lesbos, whose scanty frag-
nents indicate extraordinary powers, and who was
so tortured by lore as to throw herself into the sea.
Saracens, empire of, 115.

Sardanapalus, the last of the Assyrian monarch . noted
for his luxury and efleminacy. His officers having
conspired against him, and besieged him in Nineveh,
he set fire to his palace, and was consumed in the
flames, with all his slaves, concubines, and trea-
sures, 77.
Saturn, son of the heaven and earth, and supreme rul<!r
of the earth till he was dethroned by his son Jupito::.
Saturn afterwards fled to Italy, aud ro cultivated
there the arts of peace and simple industry, that his
reign was called the Golden Age, 86.
Saturnalia, festivals held in honour of Saturn, and in-
tended to commemorate the freedom and equality
which prevailed in the Golden Ape, v/hen Saturn
was king. From the privileges enjnyed during these
holidays by the poor man and the slave, any revels
where a free and levelling spirit is displayed have
ueen called Saturnalia.
Satyrs, minor deities of the country, shaped like goats
inferiorly, and having horns ou their head and long
hair over the body, 87.
Savings' banks, 529-533.
Sax-horn, musical instrument, 767.
Scale, the major, in Music, 737; the minor, 742; inter-
vals of, 742.
Scales, construction of, in Geometry, 616.
Scandinavia. See Norway and Sweden, 206.
Scandinavian superstitions, 417.
Schoeffer, inventor of letter-founding, 706.
Sciences, logic of the, 864.

Scipio, the patronymic of an illustrious family of Rome,
one member of whom, sumamed Africanus from the
feat, was the conqueror of Hannibal at Zama. He
was equally famous for his private virtues as for his
military successes ; and * the continence of a Scipio,'
a common phrase, had its origin in the refusal of
Africanus to see a beautiful princess who had fallen
into his hands, lest the frailty of human nature
should tempt him to take any advantage of his
power over her fate.
Scotland, History OF — see Historyof Great Britain and
Ireland, 129-176; description of, 225-240; super-
ficial features, 225; geology, 225; hydrography, 226;
climate, 227 ; botany and zoology, 227 ; population,
227; national industry, 228; remarkable scenery,
228; antiquities, 235; chief towns and ports, 236.
Scriptures, the authenticity of, 390.
ScuLPTuaE, 638-640.

Scylla, a rock oflf Sicily, famous as dangerous to mari-
n«r», in combination with the whirlpool Charybdis.
The ancients called the rock a monster, into which
the nymph Scylla had been changed by Circ^.
Seasons, effects of on mortality, 551.
Second-sight, superstition of, 429.
Secretiveness, in Phrenology, 341.
Self, duty of trusting to one's, 473.
Self-esteem, sentiment of, in '^hrenology, 342.
Self-help, duty of, 473.
Self-love, duty of, 451.
Self-respect, duty of, 459.

Semeld, daughter of Cadmus, and mother uf Bacchus
by Jupiter, destroyed by her vain wish to behold her
lover in all the insupportable blaze of his divinity.
ScniirSmis, a queen of Assyria, celebrated for her mas-
culine strength of character, her warlike successes,
and the magnificent buildings which she constructed
in Babylon.
Semitic or Syro-Arabian race, in Ethnology, compre-
hends the Syrian and Arabian families of man-
kind, 2.

Senneftflder, inventor of Lithography, 730.

Sensations and organs of sense, 323.

September, festival Calendar for, 443.

Sequestration, law relating to, in Scotland, 502,

Ser&pis, a deity of the ancient Egyptians.

Serfs, serfdom, in feudal law, 56.

Serpent, musical instrument, 767.

Servants, in domestic economy, 771.

Servants and masters, respective duties of, 472.

Sesostris, an early king, renowned for the extent of hit

conquests and the mildness of his sway.
Sestett, in Music, 765.
Shaving and Bh'>ving-pastes, 782.
Sheriff", jurisdiction and functions of, 45.
Shinty, hockey, or hurling, game of, 655.
Shrove-Tuesday, festival of, 434.
Sibyls, women inspired by the gods with the spirit of
prophecy. The most famous of them was the Cu-
maian Sibyl, who is said to have resided at Cumse in
Italy, and to have obtained from Apollo the privi-
lege of living for as many years as there were grains
in a handful of sand. But she forgot to ask for
youth also, and grew old and decrepit. It is stated
that the Sibyl sold threo of n:°.ie volumes of pro-
phecies to the monarch Tarquin, and that these were
preserved and consulted by the Roman,) with great
reverence, until they were destroyed by fire. A book
of Sibylline verses is extant, but scholars universally
deem it spurious and modern. Every gipsy fortune-
teller is familiarly termed a Sibyl.
Sight, as a sense, 326.
Sight, second, superstition of, 429.
Silenus, a son of Pan, and attendant of Bacchus,
usually painted as a jolly intoxicated old man
riding on an ass, and crowned with flowers.
Silks, how to keep and clean, 773.
Silver-plate, how to keep and clean, 773.
Similarity, the law of, in Metaphysics, 329 ; the emo-
tion of, 333.
Sincerity and insincerity, duties regarding, 456.
Sinon, a Greek, whose frauds before Troy have made

his name f byword.
Sirens. — Three sea-nymphs who lived on a small island
near Sicily, and so charmed the passing voyi^er with
their melodious voices, that he forgot all else, and
died of starvation while listening. Ulysses, in order
to hear them safely, had the ears of his crew stuffed,
and himself tied to the mast of his ship. He was
enchanted with the music, but th' crew would not
obey his commands to stop, and thub he listened and
yet lived. The disappointed Sirens threw themselves
mto the sea. Fine female singers are styled Sirens
in common speech.
Sisyphus, a crafty priiice of the heroic times of Greece,
who, for some uncertain offence to the gods, was
doomed, in the infernal regions, to roll a huge stone
up a hill, whence it re-descended immediately, ren-
dering his punishment perpetual. The fruitless toil
of Sisyphus is often the theme of allusion and com-
parison.
Size, organ of, in Phrenology, 348.
Skating, as an art and recreation, 648.
Sketchmg, in Drawing, 630. .
Slander, crime of, 460.
Slavery, socially considered, 37.
Smell, as a sense, 324.
Smuggling or contraband trading, 502.
Social Econohics of the Industrious Orders, 529-

544.
Sociability, emotions of, 332.
Society, Constitution op, 33-39.
Sociology, or the science of society, 368.
Socrates, the wisest and best character, perhaps, of
antiquity. He was born and lived in Athens, where,
in an unpretending way, he taught men to love
virtue and cultivate knowledge. His opiuions and
actions, as recorded by his pupils Plato t.ui Xeno-
phon, have filled posterity with admiration for him
from whom they came. Socrates woa at length

806

CHAMBEBS'S INFOtlMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.

Mcuied hy the ungrateful Athenians of offences
againit religion, jmiI died, according to liia lentence,
by drinking a cup of hemlock preaented to him.
Hit la«t momenti, ipent among hit weeping fViendi,
brought out hit character in eTen a nobler light than
it had before appeared in.

Sol-ik-ing, in musical practice, 742,

Solon, one of the seven wise men of Greece, celebrated
for the equitr of the laws dictated by him to the
Athenian!. His fame for wisdom hae caused men of
iimilar repute to bo called Solons.

Soronus, the god of Sleep, and son of Night,

Sophoclet, a tragic poet of Greece, who coropoied in a
graTe and lufty style.

S<ipra^o (Ital. »opra, above), the upper or treble part
lb musical composition, 738.

Spain and Portugal, description of, 105.

Spain under the Moors, 119.

Sparta, history of, 89.

Spectral illusions phrenologieally treated, 850.

Bpeotrei, spectral illusions, 427,

Speculation, game with cards, 671.

Spermaceti ointment, how to make, 784.

Sphinx, a monster with the head and chest of a
woman, a dog's body, a serpent's tail, and the wings
of a bird, sent bv Juno to doTastate Boeotia. An
oracle told that the Sphinx would destroy herself on
one of her enigmas being explained, and CEdipus, on
being asked by her what animal walked on four legs
at morn, two at noon, and three in the erening,
correctly answered ' man,' referring to infancy, man-
hood, and old age. The Sphinx then killed herself
against a rock.

Spruce-beer, recipe Tor making, 760.

Spurzheim, Dr, and Phrenology, 337.

St Agnes's Day, festival of, 433.

St Andrew's Day, festival of, 446.

St Crispan, festival of, 443.

St Christopher's or St Kitt's, island of, 318.

St David's Day, origin of, 436.

St Domingo, West India island, description of, 320,

St George's Day, in the Romish Calendar, 439,

St Lucia, West India Island, 317.

St Patrick's Day, origin of, 436.

St Swithiii's Di^, in the Romish Calendar, 442.

St Valentine's Day, origin of, 435.

St Vincent and its dei^ndencies. West Indies, 316.

Stagrra, the birthplace of Aristotle; whence he was
called the Stagyrite.

Starching, how to practise, 774.

SiATiSTiCB, Popular, 545-560.

Statute Law, in England, 59.

Steel-engraving, art and practice of, 736,

Steel-plate engraving, process of, 728.

Stentor, a Greek, whose voice, according to Homer,
equalled those of fifty men combined. ' Stentorian '
is an established synonyme for excessively loud
enunciation.

Stereotyping, nature and process of, 712.

Stippling, a species of engraving, 727.

Stocks— ^tock-Exchange — Stockjobbing, 509.

Stoics, a sect of philosophers founded by Zeno, who
professed so grave and stem a morality, that their
designation has been applied to nien who exhibit
great powers of self-restraint and endurance,

Stonehenge, temple of, 215, 68.S,

Stones, standing, in Archaeology, 683,

Stuarts, the, reigns of, 189-156,

Style, in composition, 689.

Styx, a cold and venomous river of the infernal regions,
famous on account of the estimatio.i in which it was
held bj the gods, who swore by it, and held such
oaths inviolable.

Subjects, pviblic duties as, 465,

Subtraction, in Arithmetic, 595; in Algebra, 605.

Sdpebstitions, 417-432.

Surds, or irrational quantities, in Algebra, 606,

Surveying of land, 622,

StUiiensions, in Music, 753.
80«

Swan River, British settlement of, 284.

Sweden, description of, 206.

Swimming as an art and recreation, 647;

Switzerland, description of, 197.

Sybaris, a town on the bay of Tarentum in Italy, tho
inhabitants of which were so effeminate, that 'n
Sybarite' has become a phrase applied to any person
of such a character.

Sympathy, in Metaphysics, 335; in Phrenology, 352.

Syntax, in English Grammar, 587,

Syria, ancient history of, 79.

Tacitus, n, Roman annalist of the Empire, whoee writ-
ings have been deemed models of excellence in his-
torical literature.

Tailpieces, in Wood-Engraving, 722,

Talbotype or Calotype, art of, 734.

Tantalus, who, for raurde- ine his own son, and serving
him up to Jupiter to try his divine insight, was con-
demned to remain up to the neck in water, which
ever fled from his lips as he sought to slake his pcr>
petual thirst; hence the word * tantalise,' now firmly
fixed if! various modem languages.

Tariff. See commercial terms, 502.

Tarpeia, a woman who is said to have given name to
the Tarpeian Rock on which stood the Capitol, and
from which greot malefactors were hurled by the
Roirr^ns.

Tarquinii, 99. — From the son of the last Tarquin of
Rome, forcible despoilers of female honour have
gained a name appropriate to their actions.

Tartarus, the most familiar name of the infernal re-
gions. Though taken often for the whole, Tartorus
properly expressed the last abode of the wicked, na
Elysium indicated that of the good.

Taste, as a sense, 324; faculty of, 852.

Taxes, British, revenue arising from, 183.

Taxidermy, art of, 781.

Teeth, the, how to preserve and clean, 783.

Telemachus, son of Ulysses, who showed his filial piety
by travelling in auest of his father, when the latter
wandered from place to place on his way from Troy.
Minerva accompanied the young prince under the
form of an old man named Mentor; whence a com-
mon term for a counsellor and guide.

Temprf, a vale of Thessaly, deicribed by the poets as
the most delightful spot on the earth, and used as a
by-name for all similar scenes of natural beauty.

Temperance drinks, 780.

Tennis, game of, 655.

Tenor or Tendre (Ital.), the mean or middle part In
musical composition, being the ordinary compass of
the human voice when neither raised to a treble nor
lowered to a bass, 738.

Tenoroon, musical instrument, 766.

Terpsichore, the Muse of dancing, 87.

Terror, emotion of, 331,

Testament, the Old, history of, 385- the New, 388.

Thales, one of the seven wise men of Greece, peculiarly
famous for his skill in astronomy.

Thalia, the Muse who presided over comic poetry, yaa-
torals, and festival celebrations, 87.

Themis, a goddess whom Homer calls the presiding
guardian of justice and civil law, and whom modern
lawyerp nominally acknowledge as their patroness.
She is painted holding a sword and scales,

Themistocles, a famous Athenian commander, wlio
conquered the Persians at the great naval fight of
Salamis, Several anecdotes of him arc often quoted.
' Strike, but hear me ! ' were words used by him to
an angry adversary.

Theocritus, a native of Syracuse, styled tho father of
pastoral poetry.

Theology, Natural, 369-384,

Thermopyloe, famous battle of, 91.

Theseus, an Athenian prince of the heroic ngcs, re-
nowned for his great deeds. In youth he went to
Crete as one of the tributary band to be sacrificed in
the Labyrinth to the Minotaur, but he slew the mon-

INDEX, ASD OLOBSABT OF TERMS.

nor

•ter, »nd eioaped by tbe help of the Clue of Ariadne,
Uo afterward! deaetted Ariadne. The ihare of
Theieui in the battle of the Lapitho;, hii friendship
for I'icithoui, proverbial for its cloieneu, and a visit
to Tartarui, are among the principal other features
in his story.
Thespis, an ancient Qreek poet, from whom, as the
supposed inventor of tragedy, springs the phrase of
the Thespian art, applied to the drama.
Thetis, a sea-deity, who, by marriage with the mortal

Peleus, became the mother of Acailles.
Thisbe, a maiden of Babylon, beloved by Pyramus.
Thor, the Scandinavian god of war, 418.
Thucydides, a historian of Athens, highly esteemed for

his fidelity and the merits of bis style,
Thule, an island in the northern parts of the German
Ocean, termed by the llomans ultima Thule, as the
ultimate point of the earth in that direction. Some
have thought it Qreenland, and some Iceland; but
the probability is, that the name was really applied
to the Shetland Isles,
Tiberius (Ciesar), successor of Augustus, and only less
proverbial for cruelty than his successors Nero and
Domitian,
TibuUus, a poet of Rome, whose graceful and chaste
compositions have gained for him a first place among
elegiao bards.
Time, duties regarding the use of, 451.
Time, in Music, 739.
Time, organ of, in Phrenology, 349.
TimotheuB, a poet and musician who followed the for-
tunes of Alexander, and is celebrated by Dryden as
'raising a mortal to the skies' — that is, flattering
his master as a divinity.
Tinting, in Drawing, 634.

Tiresios, a famous Theban, struck blind, as the story
runs, by Juno, but gifted with prophecy by Jupiter,
and consulted during his life by all Oreece.
Tisiphone, one of the three Furies, 07.
Titan. — The gigantic family of the Titans, descended
from the Heaven and Earth, warred against Jupiter,
and tossed mountains at him in their fury, but were
subdued, and condemned to heavy punishments.
Titania. queen of the fairies, 420.
Titles and ranks, 48.
Tobago, West India island, 316.
Tone and semitone, in Music, 738,
Torques, in Archaeology, 684.
Touch, as a sense, 325.
Towers, round, in Archocology, 680.
Trajan, a Roman emperor, whose many virtues are
chiefly sullied by his cruelty to the primitive Chris-
tians of Rome. Trajau'a Pillar at Rome is a work
of great celebrity.
Transition, enharmonic, in Music, 759.
Trap-ball, game of, 655,
Triangles, in Geometry, 612.
Trigonometry, 622.
Trinidad, island, account of, 316.
Trio, in Music, 765.

Triptoleraus, a native of Eleusis, whom Ceres sought
to make immortal by laying him upon flames to
purge away the grossness of humanity ; but his
mother, through curiosity, peeped upon the proceed-
ings, and, terrified at the sight, frustrated the design.
In compensation, Ceres taught Triptolemus the art
of agriculture, and gave him the honour of its
dissemination over the earth.
Triton, a leading sea-god, represented as half man half

dolphin; and always seen blowing a horn.
Trombone or Sackbut, musical instrument, 767.
Trosachs, scenery of the, "228.
Trumpet, musical instrument, 767.
Truth and falsehood, duties regarding, 455.
Tumuli, in Archteology, 679.
Tune, organ of, in Phrenology, 349.
Turkey in Europe, description of, 199; in Asia, 258.
• Turks during the Middle Ages, 125.
Tusculum, tho country-seat of Cicero, from which simi-

lar retcvati of renowned men are lometimM Oftlled

Tusculan villas.
Types, used in printing, 709.
TyrtflBUs, a Greek po«t, UDually held tha type of auMtikl

verse-writers.

Ulysses, king of Ithaca, uroally deemed the wisest of
the Greeks who went to Troy. After the clos* of
tho sie^c of that city, during which he carried off its
Palladmro, and performed many feats of addrete
and valour, he underwent many years of adventure,
described in the ' Odyssey,' ere he reached his home.
There he found his means wasted by suitors to hii
wife Penelope; but the tried warrior soon slew or
dispersed them all, and resumed his throne in peaoe,

IJiiited States, general account of, 298-804.

Universities of Great Britain and Ireland, 181; uni-
versity towns, 222.

Urania, the Muse who presided over astronomy, 87.

Utopia, Utopian communities, 34.

Van Diemen's Land, colony of, 285.

Vanity, duty regarding, 460.

Vassals, vassalage in feudal law, 54.

Vaulting, in Gymnastics, 642.

Vegetable Physiology, design in, 381.

Vendue. See commercial terms, 503,

Veneration, in Mv>taphysics, 332; in Phrenology, 345.

Venezuela, Republic o.*', described, 307.

Ventilation, duties regarding, 451,

Ventilation and fumigation, 776.

Venus, the goddess of Love and Beauty, and mother of
Cupid. Her parentage is not settled; but she spruns
directly, it is said, from the froth of the sea, and
was immediately received among the deities. The
character given to Venus is one befitting only the
goddess of licentious pleasure. Her power to charm
is stated to have depended on her oestus or zone, and
she was usually represented sitting in a chariot
drawn by doves. From various favourite spots she
is called by the names of the Cytherean, Cyprian,
and Paphian goddess, as well as by other names, 87.

Verb, in Grammar, 579; inflection of, 583.

Vermin, how to destroy, 774.

Vertumnus, the god of Spring among the Roroana.

Vesta, usually termed the mother of the deities, and
patroness of the virgins called Vestal, who, like
modem sisterhoods of nuns, retired from the world to
live in sacred establishments. Any departure from
chastity was fearfully punished in them, and to
seduce a Vestal Virgin was deemed a horrible crime
in men. A fire was kept burning continually in the
vestal establishments, its extinction being dreaded
as an omen of heavy calamity. The phrases of
'Vestal Virgins' and 'vestal flames' are familiarly
used in the sense here indicated.
Violin, viola, and violoncello, in Music, 765.
Virgin islands. West Indies, 318.
Virginia, daughter of the tribune Virginius, having
arrested the licentious eye of Appius Claudius, then
in power, he endeavoured to get possession of her
by proving her to be his slave; but her father defeated
his nearly successful design by stabbing her with his
own hands, to preserve her honour.
Voice, the ' "man, as fitted for articulate sounds, 18.
Voices, in cuoral harmony, 765.
Vowels, and vowel sounds, in Language, 18.
Vulcan, son of Juno, and god of Fire, supposed to work,
with his assistants the Cyclops, in the interior of
Mount JEtna. Though lame and deformed, he was
the husband of the goddess of Beauty, and father of
Cupid. He acted as armourer to the gods, and some-
times wrought foi men, as in the case of Achilles.
The worship of Vulcan was well established, 87.
Vulgarity, what it is, 458.

Wages, in Political Economy, 489.
Wales, New South, account of, 283.
Walhalla, or Valhalla, in Scandinavian mythology

807

oiuianM nnroipiATioir lOt th^ pioplb.

tk« pmA haU for tk* rM«ptI«n of tho ■plrito of Ui«
bMTO, 418.

Walkb., in OjmuiMtlw, •44-847.

WtU*. how to MM Mid oleMi, 77il.

WmmiI bM'l. origbi of tho torro, 483.

Wftttfv how to mUAg* in kouMhold eoononiy; how to
imrifjr; how to filter: how to toit, 770.

Woight, orgM of, in Pbronulogjr, 84a

W«iahU Mid WMturM, Brituh, 507.

WolIingtoD, militMjr wccmm* of, 170-173.

Whist, gMM of, 0S7.

WhiUwndfty, Una and fertiiral of, 441.

Wift »ad huth»nd, rotpootir* reUtiona of, 470.

Wicht. I«l« of, dMttlbod, 21«.

WUk**, Mr John, 101.

\VU1, duty of making a, 473.

Will, th« human, 830.

Window!, how to keep and clean, 773.

Wit, in Metaphvuiet, 933; in Phrenology, 347; in lite-
rary compoeitloni, «03.

Witcboraft, aooount of. 431-437.

Wonder, organ of, in Phrenology, 340.

Wood>engraTing, practice of ai an art, 721-7'J4; a* a
ItrofeeeTon, 725.

Wordi, formation of, 10.

Xanthui. the ancient capital of Ljrdia, whence the
Xanthlan inarblei now in the British Muieuni.

Xantipp^, wife of Socratei, and m great a ehrcw ai to
have given a name to ail ladiee aimilarly gifted.

Xenophon, an illuitrioua writer an4 loldier of Athena,
who went to Persia to assist Cyrus to obtain the
throne of that country. When Cyrus was defeated.

the auiUiary Qrseks made that retreat homewards
su often adverted to as tkf Retreat of the Teu
Thousand. Xenonbou latterly was their leader.
XylogTMhy (CIr. xyum wood, and grapMrn, to draw),
aa aireoud terku i«i the art of wood'Cngraring ;
h^oo also lylograph, 731.

Yaakee, a flunlllar epithet for a native of the Unitvd
StatM of Amerioai thought to be a corrupt pronun-
ciation, by the native Indians, of the French word
Atuflai*.

York, HoUH of, in English history, 133; city of, 334.

Youth, duties of, 449.

Yucatan, state of, described, 804.

Yule (from the same root as the Greek word A«/ios, the
sun), the name given In Scotland to Chrietmas;
oricinally the great -nnual feast among northern
nations at the time of the winter solstice, in honour
of the sun.

Zealand, New. settleraents of, 380.

Zemindar, a }Iindoostanee term for a feudatory or

landholder who governs a district of country, and

collects taxes, either directly or through others who

farm them from him.
Zendavesta, the sacred book of the Parsees, ascribed

to Zoroaster, and held as the sole rule of faith and

practice ; Zend, the term applied to the language

m which the book is written.
Zincography, a species of engraving, 733.
Zoophytes, design in the structure of, 373.
Zoroaster, a famous Persian sage, who is said to have

founded or reformed the religion of the Magi.

THE END.

Ci- tlt>^

S t

GoiNBviinii ;
rsjNTJto uv Vf, AttD R. CHAMnasa.

li.'0( ttil/ti.

««t hMnewttilt
kt of tb« Ycu
itif iMcUr.
*»<», to dr»w),
Bod-ragraring ;

of th« Unhid
wrupt pronuii-
> Frracli word

city of, 224.

rord A«/mm, the
to ChriitiuMv;
nong northern
ico, in honour

feudatorjr or

country, and

;li others who

••««•, aicribed
I of faith and
the language

•aid to have
Magi.