**mºnºmºmºmºmºmºmºsºmº =mºsºmºmºmºn * ABOVE ALL THINGS STUDY | | | ºf *（ ） e ºs：■■■ ■ ■ ■ ■ º ， • ， 2 • • • • × [× 3 × e（ſ） + :3) ºf gº i ! | | | | | || ~~~~ ~~~~--~*: < ?TR （*.*） • • • №ºn »， à aſſºſºï; tº jº") is 'i it tº *ILLUSTRATED || | | | | | | | | | | | | & º ºs º º º ºg º a sº z ſy § ø •Ō ſ ºdºſſººſ º zatºſ • ***· * * | #ys ? a a.º. €. © Œ ∞ Cº ſº Œ Ō. €. e ºf a e s tº • * * * * ~ * * AGENTS FOR AMERICA INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY ºs vae 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New Yºr': e s = e º s º f is tº º ºw THE º C º ſº • 2 • 6– © }; É ž. u | > |- U_) ſr | 0. ATION - stology’. 5 CS RT-ARAND J *— NEW SERIAL FOR SL orming the Cheapest and most Useful Work ed *. PRICE 25 CENTS, MON W A R D & LO NIVERSAL INST Or, Self-Culture fo *...* with PART I. is PRESENTED GRATIS a valuable CH) OF THE WORLD, and with PART III. a CHART illustrating the MATERIAL PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. - RecognisiNG the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exi literature suited to the wants of Self-Educators, WARD, LOCK & Co. have p an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete Ancyclopæ the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such featuré, confidently believe, give it a marked superiority over every similiar undertaking ness of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illust of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominen IT CANNOT BE Too OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortuns fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themsel these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failur arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on bet around, not only in business but in social life? This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INS: to anSWer. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will be nothing short of a University at Home suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. At the same time, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will not overlook the fortunately situated. It will contain exact information on every subject likely to be to take advantage of existing educational machinery. . i THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will cover the whold field They will extend, as will be seen from the list given on page 3, from the most elementa advanced, and, taken together, will form a perfect system of Intellectual Culture. The of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, will find adequate representation we would avoid pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in our lessons will prove eminently lively and interesting. d THE WRITERS will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics they deal, and in nothing, the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, will the INSTRUCTOR be more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. BUT THE OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will not be only to impart learning well-informed men. It will always be kept in view that the great end of knowledge sh enable us to lead wiser and better lives. The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will endeavour to refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making stude to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. j SUCH, then, being the OBJECTS and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not 2–in the elevation of the the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations so elevated. “%ańube all thingá, Ātung. Übetber fur the flake of Icariting or for any other, #tuup. jur tubateger the mutibes that impel puu at first, puu ſuitſ hern gaum. In fur its uſun gaite.” is For List of Subjects included in THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTO Opinions of the British Press, see Aages 3 and 4 of cover. YORK : THE INTERNATI S COMPA Ern-il, a Binger. chromolith 15, Holborn Viaduct , ºº - º -) - -- |-- THE s' " º º º -- Sº -- º- N"º º BRITISH ISLES - ºf 7% º º N. - - sº - - - º S ANO N TIME * - º, - - PALE S T IN E. 3 rºº - . _ *Hººſººn Philippi º - º O F T H E. * … ººlº) || | | | UNR = A º hº - ºrs ºf Mºron º º | ". ** --- * T | º - "S . | _º . O F H E º "e º º . ... Marººst - - - ------n, -º-º-º- º- - ºn º M. E. D. ſ. 7" E ºr ºf A w = A Ay º - - H. C. 85. The Gauls, under Brennus, burn Rome - - - - - - - - - - º º - * * - 4004. Greation of the Wºrld (Bible Chronology) : Birth of Alexander theºrea. - - | _T ºr B C R. R. o No I. o G Y o F T H E W o R. L. D. | . *. º º I º: º: claims the French crown ºr or ºf 5, "" º Tº "ºº" º - 3ror. §. era of the Pº hist 338. Battle of Chaeronea 217. Goths bribed by the Romans 455, Rome sacked by the Vandals toº. Brian Boroimhe º al §. tº. *::: §. º ------- - º º - " * D - *"... º º of Cninese nistory 315. Restoration of Thebes 260. Temple at Ephesus burnt by the Goths 5oz. "Saracen invasion of Spain ro17. Canute becomes King of England 1349. Institution of the Order of the G ººlºº º, * º: #. ºnal of phºnica, built ; §º." : §. º *...*. E. 51o. *::: made the capital of France by roq2. Danish power comes to an end 1356. Battle of Poictiers e Garter S. E. A. sº _- . º - * -º r - stantine the Urrea. mes Emperor owis rolo. P Leo IX. fir h 81, Wat Tyler' - ºn as - - º 1921. Call of Abraham 264. First Punic War 306, London rebuilt 519. Cedri - 49. Pope Leo IX, first pope with regular army 1331. Wat Tyler's rebellion - º' tºº ºf . - ºr - 9. Cedric settled in England toº, Battle of Hasti 83. Cann used - - nº º :49: P. º of º: º” Egypt 218. Hannibal crosses the Alps 325. First General Council of Nice" 547. The Angles invade Britain (see Map of 1086. Domesday sºompeted º º: º º the English Mºtorua. º º º º É. º m É. º ute 216. Battle of Cannae. . 335-493; Prºgress of the Qstrogºths ſee Map “Routes of the Barbarians”) io95. First Crusade preached by Peter the 1416. Jerome, of Prague, burnt for h Nº. -- . º f. º c expedition 201. End of Second Punic War of . Routes of the Barbarians") 550, Rise of Poland Hermit 1429. !. of oreº º G R E. - ***". - º ſº ºn. Great pyramid 149. Third Punic War #Tº The Visigoths invade Spain 568. Stream of Lombard conquerors under Al- togg. Crusaders take Jerusalem 1431. Joan of Arc burnt at º Ot. Arc A 7- S E A ) / Sºº-jºuram - ºn ºw. Era of Cheops, Great Pyrami 146. Destruction ºf Carthage - 376, Huns in Dacia (see Map of "Routes of boin (see Map of "Routes of the Bar- r118. Institution of Knights T rado, Art of Printing i - P. E. R. 1949, David becomes King of Israel Io9. Cimbri and Teutons invade Gaul the Barbarians") barians") 1146. Second Cr*de . ts ºp" º: Comme. º by Guttenberg Lapha or Jopp - º AE - - - - - - -------------- - - - - ; ;H.; 3.* ro5. ". " off the Roman army of roooo. 405. Hº! º: º (see Map of : S. Augustine comes to England 1170. S. #. ...a at Canter- #. Glasgow º, .." Nº. º º a ! - - en. - "Routes of the Barbarians”) 4. S. Paul's church founded in London b task. Wars of - ºt- º, º º a 776. 3. commences 55. Caesar invades Britain 406. Vandals, and Sueves invade Spain and 622. Era of the Hegira 1172. hºm conquers Ireland *::: º Rºmeº ºn Aºi.… - 4: É. on of Rome by Romulus 48. Battle of Pharsalia, and death of Pompey Italy (* Map of "Routes of the Bar: 632. Mahomet dies at Medina 1187, Saladin takes º 147c. Edward IV. driven from England *º- \º -neth º - 5. tº onish º ...” 44. Caesar is assassinated barians"), continued to the end of 729. Defeat of the Saracens at Tours 1191, Battle of Ascalon 1470. Henry VI. restored gian ºn "gen. Amºn Yºº - #: Rººm * ...º. as Rºº, an º 5....” 1204. Inquisition established 1471. Battles of Barnet and Tewkesbury º/2 sº ºvº-S - - - - - tº lou y *... . 787. Danes first come to England 1214, London is incorporated 147t. Caxton sets up his printi - º -- º, º - - - 538, Fº º * A.D. 418. Romans finally leave Britain 827, Ecbert first King of all England #: King John .# Magna Charta :5. Richard III. hº *"...ºlda ºn ſº 'w º ----- 3. : º º º: reat . §. º º 420, º: Gaul ſee Map of “Routes 861. Invºion of Russia by Ruric (ſee Map of 1241. Hanseatic League 1487. Cape of Good Hope discovered J tº - - - - ! found London. of the Barbarians' * Routes of the Barbarians”) 1265. First Representative Parli 1492, ChristopherCol - - - - - º - hºtel Chaº º: ɺ Mycale }. º, 420. º º: !. * º º 871. *: the Great comes to the English ºš. First Act of º ºral #. Vasco ºś º - ºf sea º - - - - - ap of . Routes of the arians"), throne 283. W. º - - raq8, Sa - * \. º, º 431. Peloponnesian war begins 9. Herculaneum and #: destroyed continued up to about A.D. 470 886, University of Oxford founded : : *...*.*. by Edward I. :::: ºº t . - J U DAH -º-º: º 404, Athens taken by the Lacedaemonians 4. Agricola sails round Britain 433. Attila, King of the Huns 912. The Norsemen conquer Neustria : First º wale. 1517, Luther º ºrmation V - |ME 0. º! * . º : É.Fº: oco under Xenophon 121. *º. a wall from the Tyne to 449. The Saxons, in Britain, (see, Map of 915. Iniversity ºf Cambridge restored 1306. Robert Bruce crowned 1522. First voyage round world by a ship of ºnahana. - º). - --- --- - pno the Solway Routes of the Barbarians") 970, Greenland discovered 1319, University of Dublin established Magellan's squadron sº W. º 4. - | D U M E. A ED 0 M - - - - - # * * * * * * * * * # * * * * R A. C E S == == –- - *-- - | -------------- - --- to tº the - o u it a R is a n is º ------ ------ RELIGIONS - - T_º 5 – º: of the W. O. R L I). - - º - --usiºn - L. -- - ºr ºr-º-F sunºkº ºria - - - - - º - - . . . . a - - - §: ; § º - - - - - - º * . . . s if . #: unnºt poss- WOR L. D. | - ºf f Li - TE #1: 7 : c y T tº A n - tº *** * * * * * * * * * * * * * it tº -º native. ..}ºols - | is ſº ºf | º - - tº - - - - -º-º-º: - . - Archaſſistan, 58tala un F-ºs- -- == - -- º: 5 #º : º º ºf 5. * A R - A N S. P. E. R. E. Pººvºº - - Tu------- - - * - --- - - tº - - - - . - - * - |- . - - | ********* - *º-º-º-º: #. ºf sº * : # 5 ºf º - **** and - E - º - - — ” > R & A_ _N = E_ " EP |* * * * : * : Bºwl ...ean, ; , , º: **** - A R T A. R. s: º - - º, º * - Lo N- . - º' ºl. -- - - - - - *** * * * sºus * º º º * * - *: * * * L . º ºws: - * i. º º º : Mame ***"..." intº E. M º R. E. H 3. "º.” * * * -Li ºl ºf H - | 7 & I lºº, "I lº * *** * * * "" -º-º: ºf . . - º - Fº Tº º a º F- -- --- – EHºurstºrff– #4 # ºf . . ; #: ## * | f : ; ; ; ºn-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º: :::::::::: * i tº º - s ºf - -- à i = a -i- tº Lº Si i. *** º - n Ed Ro Es and othen arrican triars º º, - - #Tº H+++--- nicantla.ouineamananas - CAUC - - - º *-i-º-º: º tº gº º: E I º * * * * - * * * - - reduced *Seſimº tº # - º tº twº º ------- can------e. - AUC As I AN. S. 5 5 *** -- ; * -º-º-º-º-º-º: - - * : * - - in u is ºn sº a sº sº. *†: º" 2 - ºº: E - - - . E - 5 º, º -** *** ****** -º-º-º: -- * ##: a *-x '-º', " " ' ' ' ". º A. R. T. * * * ' " ' " " ; R O M . A A. - N is ºM S o * * * * * * * ***** tº - ºn # * ... 3 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1 = a a E--- - – M. : In ºr R - *-i-º-º: º - ------ -- - - * | * : u & H. Nº-º-º: ºn - - - - a . ** * in ii- i. 5. I n ala c e ſ ºil - a ºf * * º - --- |- º ------- º . - * 3: ; º; ºf 3. º: º º º E. : º U # K. ºº::" º: ºr E LEA sºd E Nº. 5 ºf a Hº ; * * * E. #####: #: | |****** - º żº lºº - º - - . - - ºf ºf ' ' ' ' ". . . .34; ºf ... º. ºf * Fº * * * * 3: - ºis ºgº i ºn legendary and Wº H tory - Tº -FT-TTT º-E- mºnºnº-latiºn -º- º º - - º - - ---- T --- - º ---- º?" ºrs - º - - - - º - * 5 --- º- * º - ºn º - . º -- - - -º-º-º: - ill-i- º - -º- -------, ---- - - º: 3 : º | # 3. trºº º Nº. sºlº sº º sº a ºf . T º, | | a_- -º- º- - tº “ºo" - 3: * : - H. :- T. i sººn umbºT-8 º - ºf º: Hº º #5 ºf º rºd do -- * - W - || || || - - - - warlºs - TALY - - - - - - * = # - º Tºº º ji º ºš ºf -º-º-º: º". --- ºl. - - - is iſ - _- - - to: - - - - - |- - Hº- - ------- - ------ º - - - " * * * * * º * * * * * * * Liºl: #. º º * Hºº-º-º-lº" º *C. A. u t s - - - * -- º-º-º: _ " - - - E - - - __ ------- i, º, . . º. ſº - # =############TE: - B. T. R. T A ºn N I | | || E */ ºxº . * : ºf - - , sº - º | - - º ſº - º - - - 3.5 tº: #. º - . * † - - - - - tº *—º-º: *H º #le # ** *: # º º: # * hitis º #: #. ºn-AT Battain rºl First colonized by Fºnidians - - - - Hº- == + E HE - - - - - H #: º --- - ***** *T*** * * | Histº #: ### # ####! º º º: ------- * - º C. E. º M A. N . - º -º- ***** - *** - ºr--- - I su e v co tº s vºn D A Lºs ºf: º-ººrist "º -- " - . - º º- . E -----------. ------- - ----- - = = - = - --tº- - --- - – Bººks M-N-GOLIA Nº. º - S ^ R M . A T I A R o x o an - Hº - – awsºn-ºvº. - - - --- - - --- au---- - . --- - | f | nº s - - 5 C. a. m. D. n a v i at N s or no a r º - - ... . -- . - sº * 9 ºr ". ( / A time a tºur ºn tº ur- ºr a "-" “ -* : D º E. †. ºf - - **º- - ** º . | A- | *** * º u tº --- - U_ - - —º-Hº- --- * "º. ºw ºn a 1- ºr AN. H. 1 STOR: I CAL C. H. RONOILO C, ICAL Ç. HART - - -º-º-º-º-º- tº A M - oncentant |º ******* | * R - - - ºn tº ºn tº it ºn ºn ºn e a ºr - Manlºren ... ..., epresenting the rise, progress, revolutions, and fall of the principal nations of the World, and giving the names of many distin- * * * * ºri º - T - º s - fºssiºn"." |ºº - ------ ſ º --- - - guished persons who adorned the several ages and countries in which à. #. o ul º * * º - - t * - - -a-d . - -- ". * * * * * * * This chart shears the riº, revolutions & ºut ºf the principat Nations & Empires & the periºus ºnem tº ºur real, the space, leaveen the dotten vertical line, ºwing, º: - H º R - T - s º º : º -º- sº. . - the *. are designed to mark the prºve of time, each space ſeawepting those after the une marººn, the date rado, being equivalent to a century, twº are num- N D f A. N 3 H #. - A M - º : * .* º º - - * in due order, both befºre & after the christian ena, which is denoted. Tº a line. more stronº ºnna than the aua. The sºurcee that ºpear Lºetº-era tute - 3. - º º * - * *** * * . º º º º º - - o c. - "... - * * c - * times represent the various countries belonging to ºach wreat division of the Wºrld, the namew of which are engraved at the right wide of the chart, on -t- º 3- ===Fº - - º º | º un-T-L ------ | | || "Fººl. * * * * * * * * * nations at the period ºred upon, are noted, for instance, at the cºnstan Era it wºn be fºund : -- -º-º-º-º-º-º-ºn -º-º: º º – * . * * - º -- "º that the Roman EMPIRE *reau over- * *** * of the then known World, creat narrain being yet unawa.e.t. to that power, & the Jews not dººrºa. Eleven T R H B E s º º: - - - *... ...!!!" ºw ** --- hundred ovar- ºrntecedent to that * it will be seen that States were forming in cºerce & Ringº bºwinning to reign over the isna-Li-rºs. seven hundrewlº-ar- - - - - - - - .. º - - + - - - º: -- -- - - * the Roman EMPIRE *ted in the Eastern Division, or cºerº ºne orº, being contined to Turkey, its former wet possession lºaving fauen under the TN tº ºn N s s P. º º * * * - vice --- º ſº ºr T -ºco - ". - dominion of sanacºns, Goths, Franks, &c., Enolano was then under the saxon Herrancºw, scoriano was sweet to uſe Picts, white ºne-ano was governed tº- |- ------- * * *********) º Cº. - cºrnau amºnica - -- ". . | - *** Princes. In 1500, the Eastern or on new eMººne had fauen under the nway of the runks, the ran tars were then powerful in Asia, many of the modern º - - Fº ---- | º -- - º - - "" - º * of Europe fortner, & the * * America dºeovered to Europeans. - Avain, tº evanananº, the chart lºorºontauo, the histories of the various neº- - - - º --ND-L- * M.A.L. a-s º - tions may be traced, "easia, for in-tance, will be found ºrietanº in very remote antique falling successive” under the dominion of the Mºors, Maceodnians, & - - - E # º, - | m...º. wº | *****ans, before the birth of cºnist, & ºf the sanacºns, runks & tantans after that period. In 1430 h.c. use Jews were deuveral from ºptian bondaye, |-- - - - - ºn ºvº | - in 1160, thº obtained a ring, in 970, twº were divided, in 720, the ten triars were wattereºl, in dow, the Jews were taken as captives to easy-on a ºn - 3. º a ºu lºº - º | º, thº' returned from captiviº under the *******, ºn 345, thº were subject to the Macedonians, in tºo, tº averted their rights & claim to independence Tº n cºlº s = a *—E º wn º - * the spirited leaderºup ºf the ramiº of the Maccanees, in 62, thº were under the Romans, & one lunarea & thirty years later in 70 A.D. thº were - º - - Rºuaua- º - 2 º - | * | * * A R - r - O - 7 ºn tº a w diaperweil & Jenus view destrºyed. The Roman smººns, it will be seen was rounded in 7.5.3, 13, c. & e-elenaea, to tº reen, over valv, spawn, Macedonia, &c. in foº -- ******* ******* - º - * * * * * * ------ -------- | c. | º - ---. D, it wan * º Gotº ºurlartºn nations, in 640, to the sanacºnsi & about 1450 became cºunct. It will be seen that an ºran was sunluent to the º *-nºrmºE - º º |. | | Romans during the first * *** cºsts º was finalvº abandoned tº them in fºr in 4-57, it Leºn to rau under saxon ºoke, in 1917, it was conquer- º ºººººººº ºr * ARutin-in-tºnr-u-nation |* -- - ea º the panes, & in 1066, to wie nonmans. In 1170, reland became connected with enºrain, in 12ao, waves was subdued, sº in laoa, ºne armºn, or enouane - Tºutº | º * *cotland were unitent. In the warne the - -i. - - - - - - --- - --- run-r- Europrans will be found acquirinº vast possessiona in North & south America in the ºuteenth cent - FILT ºping Nº G, H Q E. S. T H E. W o n LP - 1783, the thirteen provinces, founded principatu º the enous” sº unut unut, turne coloniew or the an irish crown, Lecoming ... ..". ..". ... ºf: ------A -º-º-º- and other | on Mercator's Projection. two states & forming a Federal Union… sºa in arumentº sweet to the his wani, will be found to have ratten www.ewt veno unuler use can rºadinians, Romans.corns ºn. - - - - - - |- - - - - - - - - - & sanacews, & from the middle of the seventh century to have riven wrºtually into an independent nation. - - AFRICAN RAC º | Asia was the first peopled part of the Globe, Africa the second, Europe, the third America, the fourth & Oceania the fifth. au-T-L - º | The Five great Monarchies of the Ancient World rere, chaldºra. Assyria, Baºy/onia. Media and Persia. ºr Tunnunc tººls cº-art so as to renoºr THE Horizonta- Lines vertical ºr a EcoMEs a locaa pºlica L. º, “: - - nºw outna - - - | a v s south --- ... . . . . . |º Po-n--- U THE WORLD - s () To THE ANCIENTS - - - - - - - - - - - vº As KN º -i nº the : ; *::::::::::::#.º Church. ºr cºorºoºoºr or Tºº woºd-continued. #: §º.**. renewed # ºº: Sººn E U R O - E. - - - - - - - - - - of the Corn - ROM AN M DIRE 1542. Mary, Queen of Scots, comesto the throne tº Defeat of the Covenanters 1755. Lisbon destroyed by an Earthquake 1804. Napoleon crowned Emperor º j. fººtassemblage |N THE LIM lº sounts orºpharians 1545, Council of Trent meets 1673. Test Act passed 1756, Calcutta taken by the Nabob of Bengal 1805. Battle of Trafalgar-Death of Nelson 1851. International Exhibition --- --- - 1549. Fº Liturgy completed 1679. Habeas Corpus Act 1756, Black Hole Suffocation 1805. Battle of Austerlitz 1851. Coup d'Etat in France ----- ºr-Route of means. intº ºritain º 1554. y Jane Grey beheaded º Rye House Plot 1757. Battle of º 1806. Battle of Jena 1852. Second French Empire. S. rºom, 140. 1556. Archbishop Cranmer burnt 1585. Edict of Nantes revoked 1757. Execution of Admiral Byng 1807. Abolition of the Slave Trade 1854. Crimean War-Alma and Balaclava | s 3. The Fºlº Gaul 120 1572, Massacre of S. Bartholomew 1688. Prince of Orange lands-Revolution 1759. Battle of Quebec 1807. Gas first used in London 1855. Fall of Sebastopol - 2.5 + Rºric to Novgorod Bºl. ºr. World circumnavigated by Sir Francis 1599. Battle of the Boyne 1760, Canada submits to Britain 1809. Battles of Corunna and Wagram 1856. Treaty of Paris - ºf , º, º ºx º ºs. Tº lº -º-º- Theºlºis ºwn autºmº" Drake 1692. Massacre of Glencoe 1760. Siege of Pondicherry 1809. Collingwood defeats French Fleet 1857. Indian Mutiny - -- - - º !" - * º 1. 1587, Mary Queen of Scots beheaded 1592, Battle of La Hogue ... 1752. Havannah taken by the British 18to, Battle of Busaco 1861. Death of Prince Consort * * *-ºº-º-º-º/ tº º". ºut... ºn 1588. Spanish Armada defeated 1694. Bank of England established 1763. End of the 7 years' war [can Colonies 1811. Battle of Albuera 1861. Victor Emmanuel il, of Sardinia de- - ºrig" | " ... º. º. º, 1599. Battle of Troy 1794, ºussia first made a kingdom 1765. Commencement of struggle with Ameri- 1811. French Expedition to Russia clared King of Italy - º - The ºths, Italy º 40% 1598. Edict ºf Nantes | 1701, War of the Spanish Succession 1768. Royal Academy established in London 1811. Massacre of the Mamelukes at Cairo 1862. Total Abolition of Slavery y U.S º º ºf Fºº º º- The Mºtha Rome and spun º 711 15oo, India Company first Chartered 1791. Battle of Blenheim 1769. The French take Corsica 1812. Badajos stormed 1863. Marriage of Prince of Wales - ºlº - º º The Lºmbardº ſº. 1603. Union of the crowns 1794. Gibraltar taken by the English 1772. First Partition of Poland 1812. Retreat of French from Moscow 1864. War between Germany and Denmark - - - ſº Theºn-ves (with the Wandulº 405 1605. Gunpowder plot ... . 1705, Battle of Ramillies d 1775. Battles of Lexington and Bunker's Hill 1814. Abdication of Napoleon 1865. Assassination of President Lincoln .. - -*. sº I A. 1607. Jamestown, first English settlement-in 79. Legislative Union of England and Scot- 1776. U. S. declare themselves Independent 1815, Battle of Waterloo 1865. End of the War of Secession. U.S - - America 1703, Battle of Oudenarde 1779. Siege of Gibraltar by the Spaniards 1824. First Burmese War-Rangoon taken 1866, Battle of Sadowa - "C" lºº - ------- 1609. In ndence of Holland 1?og. Malplaquet 1779. Captain Cook º rözö. Peace made with Burmah 1867. New Reform Act passed - º º Exºrna Mau M 1616. Death of Shakspere 1719. St. Paul's Cathedral rebuilt 1780. No Popery Riots 1827. Battle of Navarino 1868 Abyssinian War, cost ºrooooooo - º º º rºarº º 1618. Thirty Years' War begins 1714. Accession ºf House of Hanover 1782. Independence of U.S.A. acknowledged 1829. Catholic Emancipation Bill 1869, Suez Canal opened --- * * * º A Riº N. a. 162o. Battle of P 1719. South Sea Scheme 1784. Peace concluded with Tippoosaib 1839. French Revºlution 1870. Franco-Prussian War - º, ſº 1627. Siege of Rochelle 1733. Forteous Riots 1786, Death of Frederick the §: 1830. Liverpool&Manchester Rwy. opened 1870. Napoleon III, defeated at Sedan ºut- * , 1631. Battle of Leipsic 1738. Russia invades the Crimea 1786. Impeachment of Warren Hastings 1832. Reform Pill º in Eng- 1871. German Empire re-established - - 1632. Battle of Lützen-Gustavus Adolphus tº War with Spain - 1787. First Colonial Bishopric founded 1833. Slavery Abolis, by Parliament [land 1871. Irish Church dis-established -º- killed , 249. Frederick theºrea, king of Prussia 1788. First settlement in Australia 1834. Houses of Parliament burnt 1871. Third French Republic constituted - - -------- 1642, Civil War in England 1741. Expedition to the South Sea under Com- 1791. Flight and capture of Louis xvi. 1837. Queen Victoria Proclaimed 1873. Ashantee War º s * / . nanº-MA---- º 1544. Marston Moor modore Anson 1792. Proclamation of French Republic 1837. Rebellion in Canada #. Deposition of Sultan Abdul Aziz M E on ---- "A - LLBºA - 1645. - y 1743. Battle of Dettingen - 1793. Execution of Louis xvi. and Marie 1838, Royal Exchange burnt 1876. Atrocities in Bulgaria - " ºr º 'º ºf 0|º **** 1535. Charles, surrenderstothescottish Army 1744. Commodore Anson sails round the World Antoinette 1838. Electric Telegraph constructed 1876. Con - -- - - º - - - - grap 7 ference at Constantinople [India º -- - º nº y r* - nº. A ºr 1549. Charles I. beheaded 1745. The Scotch Rebellion 1794. Robespierre guillotined , 1839. English Army enters Cabul 1877. Queen Victoria proclaimed Empress of ºld- - - º |-- - nº ſº. ; : Cromwell made Lord Protector 1745. Battle of Culloden-End of the '45 1795. Warren Hastings acquitted 1840, Penny Postage 1877, Russo-Turkish War º º, º - . Restoration 1747. French defeated of Cape Finisterre 1795. British take 3. and C. of Good Hope 1840. º of Queen Victoria 1878, Treaty of Berlin concluded |º - - - º - º º v Lºw - 1662. Act of Uniformity 1751. Arcot besieged and taken by Clive 1798, Irish Rebellion—Battle of the Nile 1841, Birth of Prince of Wales 1879, Campaign against Zulus in South Africa - --- - 2. … " --------- - -, tº 1655. The Great Plague (May tº December) 1752. New Style adopted in Britain [House 1799. Siege of Acre—Napoleon First Consul 1842. Imposition of the Income Tax 1879. War in Afghanistan ENGL15 - Poss-sºlo Nº ºn N. 'I'-- ºw-Nº, Nº. * - -nº- -º-º: º * , , , º 1566, The Great Fire of London 1753 British Museum established in Montagu 1806, English and Irish Parliaments united 1842. Chartist Riots—Massacre at Cabul 1886, Massacre of English at Cabul ºº """, nºº whº was Jow Tº and Mºe and -ucceeded sºphºn - º - - -- - - - ------ …taine in ºn. - - her own right he º º, º an. Non- * º º, A. - - - - - –––. Tº wºn Twº CTSNITSTURY SQUARE SS ś asºğ3. É źsº §§ lºcº is =Sºº-Nºrt--" I N T R O D U C T I O N . —>–e—4–e—é— HE title of our work is a sufficient indication of its scope and purpose. The following pages will, we believe, be found to contain a complete encyclopædia of learning adapted to the requirements of students of all classes, and we hope they may prove instrumental in greatly promoting that advancement of wisdom and knowledge about which every well-wisher to his age and country is eager. On the need for popular education nothing requires to be said. It is a topic which has been fully discussed of late years, and one on which we are certainly now all agreed. We all acknowledge that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. We see that if the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, and that, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. To those, then, we dedicate the following work who wish to improve themselves so as to compete on better terms with all around, not only in business but in social life. The “UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR’’ aims at being nothing short of a University at Home, and we trust it will be found in every way to suit such students as, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. Self-culture, it is true, has its disadvantages, but for really earnest minds it will be found to answer almost every purpose. The best part of a man’s education, it has been well said, is that which he gives to himself; and there is a peculiar charm, too, about mental gains secured in a special manner by our own diligence. But whilst appealing mainly to self-educating students, we have not overlooked the wants of others more fortunately situated, and have given a place in our pages to all subjects of special interest to those who are able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. We have tried to cover the whole field of knowledge. The subjects of which we have treated extend from the most elementary to the most advanced, and taken together form a perfect system of intellectual culture. The latest thought of our time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, have, we hope, had justice done them ; and though far from believing in the possibility of converting labour into recreation, we have dome our utmost to make our lessons lively and interesting. Our object, however, is not only to impart learning and make well-informed men. We have always kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to lead wiser and better lives. We have endeavoured to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and shall fall far short of our intention if, whilst making students, we fail to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. WOL. I, l 2 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. \ º FRENCH Sºº - º §§ -- PREFACE. THE plan intended to be carried out in the following articles embraces a complete Series of lessons in French for the use of self-educating students. At the same time it is hoped that they will be found to offer a great deal both of interest and instruction to those who have already given some attention to the study of the language. Although no attempt at a grammaire raisonnée will be made, each subject, as it logically presents itself, will be treated in a sufficiently exhaustive manner to spare the learner the disappointment which skeleton grammars are apt to produce by leav- ing so many gaps to be filled up from the student's inner consciousness. Assuming that the reader obtains little or no extraneous as- sistance, we shall take nothing for granted, and shall proceed as if we were speaking in the lecture-room. In these days of competitive examinations it is indispensable for the student to possess sound notions on every point of grammar, and if he draws his knowledge from a source of indisputable competence, his task is facilitated and his end furthered. This, fortunately, is possible with regard to the study of French—a language which, ever since the days of Richelieu, has possessed a standard of authority such as no other tongue can boast, or—as some mali- cious persons have hinted—can groan under We refer here to the Académie Jºançaise, a company of forty literary men who are ever recruited from the foremost ranks of their craft. They published a dictionary, against which it has been much the fashion to inveigh, but whose decisions no examiner, either in France or abroad, would ever attempt to impugn. Jealously guarding ourselves, therefore, from indulging in any pet theory, it will be our aim to follow the dictates of the French Academy, as corrected up to date in a new edition of their dictionary, which, after forty years of delays and preparation, was recently published. On every point of the least importance, however, we shall not omit to consult the lexicographer of the day, M. Littré, a safer guide than whom it would be difficult to select. The coincidence of the publication of the seventh edition of the French Academy's dictionary with that of M. Littré's Supplément will enable us to post ourselves up in the most recent researches of philology in so far as they affect the purely grammatical side of the French tongue. M. Larousse's gigantic work, of which the fifteenth volume was brought out in 1876, will also be laid under contribution. To render these lessons thoroughly service- able and practical, there will be attached to each copious exercises made up of coherent and connected vocabularies, and of aphorisms, proverbs, witticisms, interesting or instructive anecdotes, and extracts culled from the best French authors. Thus something of the spirit of the language will, we trust, pass through the dry bones of its grammar. Under the name of Stray Wotes we shall devote short para- graphs to various questions which strictly come under the heads of neither accidence, Syntax, nor literature, but which are neverthe- less indispensable to a proper comprehension of a language; such as puns, words and phrases used as quotations by British writers, adjectives derived from the names of places, alliteration, historical and literary allusions purely French, nursery French, etc. As a further help to the many who, from choice or necessity, are self-educators and im- provers, a key to the various exercises will be published. Having a special regard also to these students, a series of articles has been prepared on French pronunciation—the most complete, So far as we are aware, that has ever appeared in this country. Certainly no system of figured sounds can rival the voice of a native teacher, but our articles, we hope, will go a long way towards enabling the learner to speak French as it ought to be spoken. In these articles, the first of which appears on p. 28, all necessary preliminary information will be found as to the French alphabet and the accents and Orthographical signs in common use. LESSON I. THE ARTICLE, 1. French possesses only one article, the definite, which takes the form le before a mas- culine singular noun, as le père, the father ; la before a feminine singular noun, as la mère, the mother ; and les before a plural noun of either gender, as les pères, the fathers, les onéres, the mothers. (In pronouncing these examples, remember that the plural Sounds exactly as the singular : père, pères, are both pronounced pèr; mêre, mères, are both pronounced mêr; the difference in number being sufficiently indicated by the change in the article.) No reference is made to a neuter, as that gender does not exist in French; nor is the term common used in French grammars with reference to the gender of substantives. 2. When a noun in the singular, whether masculine or feminine, begins with a vowel or mute h, the e and a of le and la are elided, and replaced by an apostrophe. (See §8, p. 57.) This promotes rapidity of utterance by the removal of the hiatus. - l'om' me, the elm, for le orme. l'habit, the coat, for le habit. l'éme, the soul, for la áme. l'humeum", the temper, for la humeur. This elision is not unknown in English poetry where, however, it becomes a question not of euphony but of metre : “Blest as th’ immortal gods is he, The youth that fondly sits by thee,” etc. The plural presents no case of elision, as the final s of the plural article, which before a FREWCET GRAMMAR. consonant is quite mute, is carried on to the initial vowel of the substantive, and produces with it a very euphonious effect, from the fact of the s being softened down to a z, as– les ormes, the elms, which is pron, lè'-zoºm’. les habits, the clothes, 95 lè'-zabi’. les àmes, the souls, 53 lè'-zam”. les humeurs, the humours, , lè’-zumeur. 3. Wherever the syntax of the English language demands the use of the definite article the, we shall find le, la, l’ or les, according to gender and number, in French ; for, like the, le (la, l', les) limits the meaning of a noun, or singles the moun out, after the manner of a demonstrative adjective. But over and above this, and in a manner diametrically opposed to English syntax, the French article le (la, l’, les) stands before any noun taken in a general sense—that is, before a noun embracing a whole species or class. Use, therefore, the article both in French and English, when you say— The man has spoken truly, L’homme a parlé vrai. The man who has just spoken, L’homme qui vient de parleſ'. Use the article in French only, when you Say— Death is the gate of life, La mort est la porte de la vie. Man is mortal, L’homme est mortel. All men are mad, Tous les hommes somt fous. Inventive men are scarce, Les hommes à imagination somt yares. From the English point of view, then, the rule is : death, life, man, men, inventive men, being used in a general Sense, require no article ; And from the French point of view the rule is: mort, vie, homme, hommes, homºmes à imagi- nation, being used in a general sense, demand *the article. 4. The article le or la, placed before nouns, is the readiest means of ascertaining their gender. The case becomes more difficult where !’ or les appear, or when a gender must be assigned to a noun preschted without any con- text. With reference to this point, practice will teach better than rule ; but as the rule must be given, and is very long and burden- Some, we shall at once smooth the path by a few general hints. (a) Noums representing males are masculine, and nouns representing females are feminine : L’homme, the man, la femme, the woman. Le lion, the lion. la lionne, the lioness. (b) A noun does not vary its original gender, whether it be applied to the one or the other SeX : Madame A. est LE docteur de cet hôpital, Mrs. A. is the doctor of this hospital; Isaac Était LA victime que Dieu s'était choisie, Isaac was the victim which God had chosen for Himself. (g) Some species of animals are designated by the male, others by the female, and the gender is applied respectively to the whole species. For example, chat, which strictly means tom-cat, is masculine, and the name of the whole species is made masculine : Le chat est ºn précieua, animal, the cat is a precious animal; whilst we should say, LA chatte mou?'rit ses petits, the cat feeds her young. (d) Nouns of inanimate objects and abstrac- tions belong to either gender in accordance with certain rules of derivatocn, and more especially termination, which rules will be fully developed in the course of these Lessons. Practical Application. 1. Learn the following vocabulary. The italics in the French words show which letters are mute ; and the curved line T indicates that the final consonant of one word is to be carried on in pronunciation to the initial vowel of the following word—a process called liaison in French, which we shall translate by the term connection. VOC.A.BULARY I. La parenté, kindred. Masculine. Les parents, the parents or relations. LesTenfants, the children. Les grands-palents, the grandparents. Les petits "enfants, the grandchildren. LesTaïeua, or ancétres, the ancestore. Lesſ ascendants, the ascendants. Les descendants or neveua,” the descendants, Les fiancés, the betrothed. LesTépoua, the spouses. Masculine. Mari, husband; père, father ; papa, papa . grand-père, grand- father ; fils, son : petit - fils, S07 grand- step- father, father- in-lam) ; beau-père JFeminime. Femme, orife. mêre, mother. maman, ºn a mºna. grand'mère, grand- 'mother. fille, daughter. petite-fille, grand- daughter. step- mother, mother-in- larv. step- daughter, daughter - in-lan'. bru, daughter-in-lan. Soeur, sister. Step-son, beau-fils & son-in- liº. gendre, som-in-lam). frère, brother ; step- brother, brothen'- in-law ; oncle, uncle ; neveu, nephemy, cousin, cousin . cousin germain, first cousin, ; parent, relative ; beau-frère belle-mêre belle-fille step-sister, sister - in - lan. belle-soeur tante, aunt. nièce, miece. cousine, cousin. cousine germaine, first cousin. parente, relative. * Neveua, nephews, from the Latin nepos, a grandson. It means posterity in poetical style ſofre regme awa. neveua douf servir de modèle (Racine), your reign ought to serve as a patterm to postority; Mes arrière-neveway me devront cet ombrage (La Fontaine), my descendants will be indebted to me for this shade. 4 7}IE UAVTVERSA I, IWSTRUCTOR, F-ºf- §s MoD, RN BY H. W. DUICKEN, PH.D. I, THE FIFTEENTH CEN PURA AND ITS TEACHINGS. IN the great chronicle which records the events, changes, and conditions that have affected the human race, we recognize three distinct and separate divisions, each characterized by its own peculiar features, and the two latter pre- modern times, it is now our task to lay before our readers. There are certain great characteristic features of the history of modern times, features that are recognised throughout the * * * whole of its course, and which º are at the present day perhaps * In OTC aii; visible #. ... modern history. any previous time. These features are: the striving for religious and social freedom—the astonishing increase of knowledge and enlighten- ment—the widening of the limits of the known world by maritime and inland discovery—and the establishment of new communities and the foundation of empires in parts of the world before unknown. With the beginning of the history of modern sº | Jº: º- JAIC s . º M-. -- S$ s , | º S * * ,Y. º “ s COLUMBUS BEFORE THE COUNCIT, AT SALAMANCA, ceded by vast and most important changes. These three divisions are known as Ancient History, the History of the Middle Ages, and the His- tory of Modern Times. The first comprises the Story of the World from the earliest times to the downfall of the great Roman Empire, in the fifth century of the Christian era, the Second has to do with the thousand years that intervened between the fall of Romé and the discovery of America, while the third, the history of modern times, brings down the record from the beginning of the sixteenth century to the present day. Divisions of history, The story of this third period, the history of times, the destiny Sº the human race becomes grander. . The nations are awakened to a great display of energy. There is a mighty and a suc- cessful effort to break away from the fetters whereinfeudal tyranny and ambitious priestcraft hadforathousandyears held the nations captive, It is the time of the renaissance, of the renewal of much of the wisdom The that had illumined ancient times, Renaissance. but that had lain hidden, like buried treasure in ruined castles, through centuries of ignorance, oppression, and strife. The human mind struggles to get free from the weight of ignorance and Superstition; art, science, and literature flourish, and genius competes with HISTORY OF MOD EARN TIMES, 5 wealth and power for honour among men; a new system of war gives scope for military talent, and supersedes the rough predatory system of the middle ages, disciplined hosts under distinguished commanders taking the %.<º ūs 4-Fºss; = <-T- A KNIGHT IN ARMOUR, place of the motley bands of mercenary Soldiers brought together under the feudal system. The principles of government, the mutual dependence of class upon class, and even of nations upon one another, begin to be understood; Com- merce, that great and unfailing source of the wealth and prosperity of nations, is widely developed; the more debasing forms of slavery, and afterwards the milder predial Servitude or serfdom, are abolished by law, or, as in England, gradually disappear without being abrogated by any enactment; the student of history is here brought into contact with a better World, studying for the attainment of higher and nobler aims, by honester and manlier means than those that prevailed during the middle ages. The nations aspire to know “the why and the wherefore ” of the measures taken, and of the commands imposed upon them by their rulers. It is still recognized as a truth “that those who think shall govern those who toil”— but those who toil begin to think likewise, and accordingly aspire to have a share, through their representatives, in the counsels of the rulers; and thus, through many dangers, and difficulties—often beaten down, but ever Tising again to fresh conflict with irresponsible des: potism—struggles forth the great principle of constitutional government. In other directions, too, the beneficent effects of progress and enlightenment are felt. Science Improvement in steps in to unveil the mysteries various direc- of nature, — combating disease, tions; science, and thus lengthening the period art, etc. of human life, and mitigating some of its severest woes; improved agricul- ture, and the advance of settled industry, together with increased means of intercourse, first check and then almost entirely obviate Signs of change and progress, those periodic famines, which in the middle ages cost thousands upon thousands of lives; the material prosperity of nations is increased; the masses are better clothed, as well as better fed, and the Supremacy of the laws is more generally acknowledged. Above all, the history of modern times exhibits the voice of the nations raised, ever in louder and more threatening tones, against the ghastly mockery of Christianity exhibited in the cruelties of religious persecution; the Writ “De Haeretico Comburendo’’ (concerning the burning of heretics) ceases to run in one country after another; and just in proportion as knowledge and enlightenment advance with ever Swifter strides, do these features of the history of modern times Shine forth with more encour- aging Splendour. Thus the history of modern times, begin- ning with the sixteenth century, exhibits at the Outset a great and astonishing change, This change was deep and lasting. There is a proportion between The fifteenth causes and effects; accordingly º the causes of this change must ange, have been long at work, and must have been Widespread also. In fact, the whole of the fifteenth century may be noted as a time of preparation, in which the conditions for this change were being brought about and matured. And foremost among the conditions which rendered this change possible we have to note three exceedingly important inventions. The first of these was the invention of the mariner's compass, or rather, the adaptation of the magnetic needle to ocean navigation; and §ſ$. § ſ j łł § == E. ; º º- lº ; i s sº fi s º º§ - § §§ ſ .#| || ||isº º º All §§ ~ §§§ wº §§ iº §§ º | º # º |Rºſſ isjº, º Wº: Rºº tºº." º § ſ i § ; º ! * t §§ºf: * t § cº, ºf º sº * **** § & *- - $º ºrº, NJ:sº | P:A: *} ºr } % ºf “ 3 ***** } it. *#.; ~ { § Nºs" tº §s, * tººl. 1 *.it, -- t r | § \ §§§ ." 5. º º §º i §; -§ :ºº HAARLEM. with this we may associate the improvement of the astrolabe or quadrant. That the magnetic needle and its properties had been previously known to various nations there is no doubt ; 6 THE UAVI VERSAI, IWSTRUCTO AEP, . but it was the Italian Flavio Groja, of Amalfi, who first applied it to navigation; and thus navigators were no longer confined to sailing along the coasts, or at most to a run across the Mediterranean. The compass pointed out to them their course; by the quadrant they could calculate their position; and these two instru- ments opened to maritime enterprise the vast and hitherto unexplored expanse of the Atlantic OCG28,D. Of vast importance, as affecting warfare, was the introduction of the use of gunpowder, which revolutionized the whole military system. Here, again, the invention pre- ceded, by a long period, the general application. Berthold Schwartz, a learned monk of Freiburg in Germany, and the wonderful Englishman Roger Bacon (b. 1214, d. 1292), are both credited by their countrymen with the invention of an explosive compound ; and that King Edward III. used cannon at the battle of Crecy in 1346 is certain. During the fifteenth century artillery and firearms took the place of the battering-ram, the Spear, and the sword. The knight, clad in complete armour, and mounted on a horse as heavily weighted as himself, was no longer the almost invincible antagonist he had formerly been ; and the baron and his mounted followers were gradually superseded by bands of mercenary foot-soldiers (lansquenets, Zanzknechte), and at length by disciplined standing armies per- manently maintained by the rulers, who thus increased their authority over the feudal barons, whose influence they finally crushed. The third and by far the most important of these inventions was that of the art of printing. Until this means had been found of putting the result of human thought and learning, and still more the utterances of Inspired Wisdom, into . . the hands of the community, the The art of Print great bulk of the population in ‘. every country remained densely ignorant and superstitious. While the price of a single manuscript copy of Wycliffe's Bible would have absorbed the wages of a working man for two years at least, the Reformation was impossible. When the price of a copy of a classic author was equal to the freehold of a house and garden, learning was necessarily the heritage of the few. Of all excepting a few clerics it might be said, that The mariner's compass, Invention of gunpowder : its effects, “Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll.” But this was altered when John Gutenberg of Mayence, in conjunction with the goldsmith Faust, who found the money, and the scribe Peter Schoeffer, who acted as the first “printer's reader,” set up his printing office, and in 1456 produced his celebrated Latin Bible. Right fitting was it that the first grand production of the new invention should be the Book of books, and well did the astute King Louis XI. of France remark to a cardinal, when some years afterwards a printed Bible was exhibited to him : " In this invention I see the downfall of your power.” That the Invention of book printing was preceded by that of wood en- graving, which was at first chiefly employed in the production of playing cards and little pictures of Saints, has been abundantly proved. Gutenberg appears to have been the first who printed from movable wooden types; whereas Schoeffer hit upon the idea of substituting metal for wooden letters. The Dutch claim priority of invention for Laurence & Coster, to whom they have erected Parly Pºinters a statue at Haarlem. Gutenberg * their quarrelled with Faust, and entered “” the Service of an archbishop of Mayence; soon after, Mayence was attacked and taken, and many of the printer's men fled, carrying their industry into other lands. The manufacture of paper from linen and afterwards from cotton rags, cheapened books by superseding the expensive parchment ; and thus the grand means for the interchange and diffusion of thought became more rapidly spread. The postal system, introduced in Germany by the Emperor Maximilian, and in France by King Louis XII., was another step in the same direc- tion. Cºººººººººººººººººd - º -> º *s - ? º-ºº: . . . Yº º -&NS - -& º - -- - § { t - BY G. VERE BENSON, M.A. T. STUDENTS who have already, it may be a long time ago, mastered the rules of arithmetic, will find the following pages useful in aiding their perception of the reasons for these rules, as well as in increasing their facility in applying them to practical uses. Those who have neglected or not yet begun the study of arithmetic will be able to under- stand these rules as we have explained them, even should they not be able to obtain any assistance from friends. But we strongly re- commend all who can to get some friend who has already Some practical knowledge of arith- metic to question them on what they read, and explain at greater length than is possible, in a book the difficulties which the student may meet here. Such difficulties there always are at the commencement of a new study, and it is of the utmost importance that they should be thoroughly mastered. If this is done our further progress will be rapid and pleasant. Arithmetic” is the science of numbers, and it is also the art of performing calculations about numbers. The practical rules by which we perform these calculations constitute the art of arithmetic ; and the principles on which these rules are founded constitute the science of arithmetic. It is chiefly as an art that we shall consider arithmetic in these pages; but it is well to remember that this art, like all other arts, has its foundations deep in scientific principles, without which there could be no art, * The word “arithmetio’’ is derived from the Greek word apºuds (arithmos), meaning “number.” ARITH METIC, A single thing—as an apple, a marble, a man—is called a unit, or one, from the Latin word unus, meaning One. A number is a unit or a collection of units. Thus, if I have one apple, and I then get another apple, I have a collection of tryo apples. If I get one more I have a collection of three apples, and so on. Each of these collections is a number, and the terms one, troo, three, are the names of the numbers of these collections. What we have said is true of marbles or any other things, as well as of apples. Now, although apples are not the same as marbles, yet the number two is the same, whether we are thinking of two apples, or two marbles, or two of anything. And although in practical life we generally have some particular objects in our mind when we speak or think of numbers, yet we can think of a number without having in our mind any particular things. We can think of the number three without meaning three apples, or three marbles, or three of any objects. When we thus think of a number, without having in our mind any particular thing, we are thinking of what is called an abstract number. Thus three is an abstract number ; but three horses is called a concrete number. Five is abstract, but five hours is concrete. Thus we see that the idea of number is independent of the kind of thing which we are counting ; and our calculations will be equally true whatever the things may be to which our numbers refer, or even if we do not refer our numbers to any things at all. All numbers can be expressed by means of the figures 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. These ten figures are called the ten “digits.” (i.e. fingers, from the Latin word digitus, which means a finger). It is probable that long before written figures were known people used to use their fingers to count on, just as we often find ourselves obliged to do if we go to a foreign country where we do not know the names of the numbers, or if we want to com- municate with a deaf person or with a person too far away to hear us. The figure 0 is called zero, or cypher, and has no value by itself; but we shall see after- wards that it plays a very important part in altering the values of other figures when it is combined with them. The other figures written above represent the numbers one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The art of expressing any number by means of figures is called notation, We shall explain the notation which is now adopted by all European nations, and by those countries which have derived their civilization from Europe. It is called the Arabic nota- tion.* We have seen that the figure 1 represents the number one, and is called unity; 2 repre- sents the number two (i.e. two units); 3 repre- sents the number three (i.e. three units), and so on to nine (9), which is the largest number we can express by a single figure. Numbers greater than nine are represented as follows:– The number ten is represented by 10, in which the figure I represents not one unit, but one collection of ten units ; eleven is repre- sented by 11 (i.e. 1 ten together with 1 unit); twelve is represented by 12 (i.e. 1 ten together with 2 units); thirteen is represented by 13 (i.e. 1 ten together with 3 units); fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nine- teen being represented by the figures 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, and so on. The next number is twenty, which is represented by 20 (i.e. 2 tens); then twenty-one, which is represented by 21 (i.e. 2 tens together with 1 unit); twenty-two, which is represented by 22 (i.e. 2 tens together with 2 units); and so on, the other numbers up to thirty being represented by 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, and 30. Forty is represented by 40 ; fifty by 50 ; sixty by 60 ; seventy by 70; eighty by 80 ; ninety by 90, and a hundred by 100 ; two hundred by 200 ; three hundred by 300 ; and so on, till we come to ten hundred or a thousand, which is represented by 1000. Ten thousand is written 10,000 ; a hundred thousand 100,000 ; a thousand thousand (which is called a million) 1,000,000; and so on, the value of the figure 1 being increased tenfold every time we place a new cypher to the right of it. . We must ask the student very carefully to consider the above statement of the method of notation. He will then see that when a figure stands by itself it represents only its simple or intrinsic value. Thus 7 means seven units (i.e. seven par- ticular things). But when a figure is followed by another figure placed at its right-hand side, it expresses ten times its simple value. Thus 70 expresses ten times 7 or 7 tens (i.e. seven collections of things, each collection consisting of ten things); 71 expresses 7 tens together with 1 unit ; 72 expresses 7 tens together with 2 units, and so on. Again, when a figure is followed by two other figures, it represents a hundred times its simple value. Thus 700 represents 7 hundreds (i.e. seven collections, each collection consisting of a hundred); 720 represents 7 hundreds together * It may not be uninteresting to observe that our method of notation is one of the many arts of civili- zation, which Europe learned some seven or eight centuries ago from the Mohammedams of Arabia, and Asia Minor ; the remembrance of which may fairly temper our just indignation at their modern corrup- tion and misgovernment with some feeling of respect and pity for their now vanished greatness. To Englishmen it is still more interesting to know that from India, the Arabs themselves borrowed this art. It was practised among the Hind00S many Cen- turies before the Arabs learned it from them. The IHindoos believed it to have been taught them direct from heaven. The Greeks, Romans, and other ancient nations of Europe employed the letters of their alphabets instead of the figures 1, 2, 3, etc. From the Arabs these figures and the method of using them passed into Italy and Spain, and being much more convenient than the system previously in use, they soon spread over the greater part of Europe, Russia, being the last country in Europe to adopt them, which she did only at the beginning of the last century. The Roman method of notation will be explained later on in the above Series of articles. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. with 2 tens; 725 represents 7 hundreds to- gether with 2 tens, together with 5 units. We see, therefore, that figures have a local value (i.e. a value depending on their position) as well as a simple value. The simple value of the 7 in 725 is seven units; but its local value is 7, hundreds. The simple value of the 2 is 2 units; its local value is 2 tens : and, in fact, in any number, the last figure on the right hand side represents so many units, the last but one SO many tens, the last but two So many hundreds, and so on.* Mote.—The student will find it useful to take a number at random and write down what each figure of it represents. For example, 78654 represents 4 units, together with 5 tens, together with 6 hundreds, and so on ; the number 50706 represents 6 units, 0 tens, 7 hundreds, 0 thou- Sands, 5 tens of thousands. k I BOTANY is the science which treats of plants in all their variety, their structure, physiology, and distribution over the surface of the earth, It seeks also to learn something of the vegeta- tion which existed upon our planet during the pre-Adamite or geological periods, finding illustrations of this in the fossil remains which lie embedded in the coal strata and other de- posits. In order to pursue its way with ease §§ §§ iš §§ §§§º §§§ Ş sº lſº §§§ \ §§§ º ºxes | ſ tº: & § ſº Sººse- tº ſº Bºº. FIG. 1.--THE PINE. and pleasure, this delightful and comprehensive Science has contrived a system of nomenclature Whereby plants universally are in course of re- ceiving definite appellations, intelligible inevery Country to the people who care for them. It fias also employed itself from the very begin. * Hence we say that the last figure on the right hand Side stands in the units' place; the last but one in the tens’ place, and so on, | —s ning in an endeavour to arrange or classify plants according to their natural affinities. These two last-named departments of the general subject constitute Systematic Botany. Furthermore, plants being productive of sub- Stances useful to man for food, for manufac- ture into clothing, and for employment as building material, others yielding medicines, while others, again, are available as decorative objects, we have the third great department called Economic Botany. FIG. 2.--THE FIR. With a view to studying the development and the affinities of plants in the best possible manner, which is by constant * observation of them in the living º state, Botanical Gardens are * established, these comprising not only beds and borders for hardy plants, or those which can endure the winter without injury, but greenhouses and hothouses for such as have been brought from warmer climates, and which require a supply of artificial warmth. An im- portant feature of a Botanical Garden, though by no means always present, is a pond for aquatic plants; a portion of the ground should also be devoted to the purposes of an Arbore- tum, or collection of hardy trees. But, how- ever extensive and well-managed, no Botanical Garden can possibly contain examples of the entire number of plants known to be present in the world. There are certainly not fewer than a hundred thousand different kinds bearing flowers, with a vast number besides, perhaps fifty thousand, of the humble and flowerless kinds familiarly exemplified in ferns and mosses, not to mention the plants which inhabit the sea, which of course can exist only while bathed in salt water. The specially important portions of plants, considered with reference to nomenclature and classification, are the blos- Soms and the seed-pods, and these being perish- able and very often extremely fugitive, no garden, moreover, however rich, could possibly Supply them all just when wanted. Hence it comes that another very interesting AOTA NY. 9 department of the botanist's work is the pre- paration of an Herbarium, or Hortus Siccus, literally, a col- lection of dried Specimens of plants, the entire individuals when not too large ; pieces, sprays, or individual leaves or flowers, when more would be cumbersome ; these being carefully desiccated between Smooth papers under heavy pressure, and with the help of artificial heat, then cemented to clean white paper, or kept loose, according to personal taste, labelled with their names, and arranged in an orderly and systematic manner, so as to be available for ready reference. When copious, and supplemented with good drawings and a collection of seed-pods and seeds, an herbarium is an epitome of vegetable nature—a garden independent of climate and Seasons—a garden which undergoes no change, and is not only a perennial source of accurate information, but contributive of boundless and ever new pleasure to the possessor. When brought together, as the specimens always should be, by the owner's own hands, an herba- rium becomes iden- tified with much in one's past life that is pleasant to re- member—the first steps in scientific exploration, the un- speakable delight of accumulating new ideas and of acquir- ing new and more accurate views, and though last, by no means least, the Herbarium, º ºr--ºf ſº - §§3\º ºğº fºs § § *** - º - § º e- agreeable circum- §§ º stances, such as jś rambles in the &--><-- S. country, amid which the greater portion of the con- tents were obtained. To the man of accomplished mind, Botany has yet another department, often considered as something quite Separate and hº and distinct, but which . as truly sº a part of Botany as the con- sideration of the physical or economic uses of plants. This is the Telation of plants to the sympathies of mankind, the Botany which pervades the poetry, fable, and literature of all ages and countries; which is recognized in a thousand ways in art, and which enables every one to take delight more or less, according to his own culture, in the spectacle offered by the green fields, in the dell crowded With primroses or bluebells, and in the tranquil and venerable woods. Of course, a certain amount of enjoyment of the landscape is quite possible without possessing an atom of technical knowledge of plants, and from that point of view the romance of Botany, as for convenience' FIG. 3.-BRANCH or THE OAK. sake we will call it, is no doubt an independent thing. But, like everything else, it is far more keenly appreciated when resting upon a good groundwork of technical knowledge. In any case, man is connected quite as intimately with the world of plants through the medium of his heart and fancy as through his capacities for discriminating and classifying. While such are the objects of Botany, the processes connected with the pursuit of it as a science, and the recreative addenda (which last we can either attend ºyº to or neglect, just as we please), it ºnal is not to be overlooked that Botany t is one of the best and one of the pleasantest of educational levers. No subject requires more careful and painstaking application, or calls more earnestly for minute and direct personal observation. It is the most efficient of all masters in that most admirable of the useful arts—the art of learning to See. Patient and Watch- ful reasoning, in- dustry, habits of order, neatness, and attention are all promoted by it. There are moral Te- sults as well. The man who gives his heart to plants, looking to them for his lifelong pastime, finds that he now has no leisure for frivolities Or COn- tentions. The very sweetness and calm of nature act in- sensibly upon his spirit, and, whether $/ he is conscious of it or not, his de- votedness is abun- dantly repaid. In the present series of papers, all the above-named subjects will be dealt with in turn, and according to the measure of their importance. They may not be treated in the Order in which they have been mentioned, but nothing will º: be omitted that is necessary to a *. º proper outline of Botanical Science, work at it, No series of articles, no book even, can eachaust Botany, since it is co-extensive With the entire vegetable kingdom. Many lifetimes would not suffice to master it even approxi- mately. Many of what seem to be the simplest and commonest phenomena of plant-life, those which come daily under the eyes of the gardener, are still very imperfectly understood. No two botanists are agreed even upon the number of different kinds of wild-flowers which grow in our own island. There is, as yet, no definition of a “species,” nor is it likely that one will for a long time be agreed upon; so that Botany is practically inexhaustible, Let Ino one Suppose 10 THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR, * * * * * * * * * * *- : ***==<-- ~~~ * that this should be a reason for abstaining from the study of Botany. The boundlessness of Botany constitutes one of its very special charms, just as the beauty and the glory of the sparkling midnight heavens consist not alone in what is beheld at a glance, but in the unfathomable spaces beyond, the star- thronged infinite, to which we are intro- duced by astronomy and the telescope. It has only to be added that no one can learn Botany from books alone. Books supply the guide-posts, the suggestions, and the general outlines, but genuine knowledge of plants is gained only by diligently and persistently employing one's own faculties, taking nothing for granted, and personally verifying every statement found in print, so far as the pro- ductions of the fields and woods, and the plants contained in gardens, will allow. A magnifying glass is indispensable, and should always be carried in the pocket ; and when the anatomy of plants is studied, a good microscope must be procured. Plants correspond with animals in all the leading particulars of their life-history. They are born, so to speak,-being * produced by the germination of “” a seed, or something equivalent to a seed; they have their infancy, youth, adolescence, and maturity, by-and-by followed by decrepitude, decay, and death; they feed, and they have a sort of repose. Many kinds exhibit a remarkable sensitiveness to touch ; one or two move their leaflets spontaneously; and in a very considerable number there is a change of position in the petals of the flower at Some particular period of the day, generally towards sunset, or soon after sunrise, indicating susceptibility to the influence of the solar Tays, though sometimes these changes take place without reference to the light. Regarded from the poet's point of view, which in the main is always true and trustworthy, in addition to these organic and physical resemblances to animals, plants possess others, which in default of a proper term may be called affectional, and which are often of the most curious, unexpected, entertaining, and suggestive mature. There is Scarcely any attribute of animal life that is not presignified among plants. Animal life and animal attributes are simply the setting forth on a grander and more spirited scale, and on a higher platform, of what has already been developed in a lower degree in the world of plants. Being subject to decay and death, plants are endued with the power of self-renewal. In many kinds the lease of life is extremely short, ending in a few weeks after birth. Early in the spring we may find pretty little members of the botanical family called the Cruciferae in full bloom. The flowers are soon followed by seed-pods; they ripen, the seed is discharged, and long before the appearance of the first TOSe of summer all is over. A few bleached relics of stem and flower-stalk, with the silvery membranes to which the seeds were once attached, alone remain. Other plants run on for a lifetime of three to seven or eight months, Duration of life in plants, then dying of exhaustion, accelerated by the Cold of approaching winter. All of this kind— all, that is, which do not survive, naturally, into a Second year—are called Annuals. Another Set, not numerous, but still common, is con- stituted of plants which rise from the seed in One year, but live into a second, when they bloom, ripen their seed, and then, like the annuals, die. During the intervening winter they maintain their hold on life by means of a Substantial root, which is usually charged with nutriment. The plants of this second class are termed Biennials. The great mass of the Vegetation we see around us consists of a third class, the plants called Perennials, plants, that is to say, which endure for many years, even scores and hundreds of years. When Once the biennial limit is passed, the lease is usually of considerable length. It is through the perennial character of so large a portion of its herbaceous vegetation—the grass—that our island, even at mid-winter, is green and cheerful. It is the same capacity for immensely prolonged existence which gives us shrubs and trees; thus not only the picturesque beauty of living nature, but timber, and whatever else Tequires many years for its maturation. Observe, however, that the plants most precious to man as sources of food and of clothing material, are the short-lived ones. The An- nuals include all the cereals, wheat, barley, rice, etc.; they include also the plants which Supply us with hemp and flax, and one or two of the most valuable descriptions of cotton-plant. Nature would seem to have created these plants with the deliberate purpose of calling into play man's industry and intellectual powers as a cultivator, for agriculture was the primeval parent of civilization; and thus, though we may now not quite like to own it, every circumstance in which Englishmen take pride may quite truthfully be said to have had its beginning in the creation of Annuals. What- ever may be the case in days to come, so far there is certainly no civilization deserving the name in the countries where men gather their food from the branches of the trees, ready made to their hands, and demanding no exercise either of industry or skill. The length of time for which perennials endure is very various. In an old-fashioned garden,_One belonging, say, to Some antique place in the coun- try, where the family has been Seated for many generations,—one may often See plants that are at least a century old. And as for trees, it often seems as if they could endure for ever. A lifetime of at least two to three hundred years appears to be the rule with the noble family which includes the Pine, the Fir, and the Cedar, and many of the species are well known to run far beyond. The Oak, the Spanish Chestnut, the Yew, appear quite easily competent to attain a thousand years, though the conditions may possibly be then like those which the Psalmist connects with fourscore. The perfect and absolute manhood of the tree corresponds with the at- tainment of the full stature and physiognomy designed for it by nature. It is easy to per- Longevity of trees, MUSIC, 11 ceive in what these characters consist. We have only to compare individuals of the re- spective kinds as they stand upon the sward of some open park or piece of forest land, free and independent, visited upon all sides by the sunshine, the rain, and the breeze. Then, not only how beautiful the diversity of the out- lines, but how plainly and unmistakably is it declared that every species of plant has linea- ments, an expression, and an attitude of its own, which, when unmolested by man and spared by the storm, it will acquire and wear proudly until the evening of life. The time arrives, however, when it must succumb,-but the decline even then is often so slow as to be measurable only by periods of twenty to fifty years. How grand, in their surrender, many of the old Oaks in Sherwood Forest, where we seem to stand in the presence of a vegetable Palmyra BY JOHN CURWEN. I. MUSIC IN MODERN LIFE. MUSIC is occupying every year a higher place in the routine of modern life. Not only is it becoming more and more of a Social exercise, but it is made the agent of religion and philanthropy. And by music in this connec- tion we especially mean singing; vocal ºa for the cultivation of instrumental intº music must always be the privi- lege of the comparative few. There are several reasons for this. The many lack both the time and patience needed for learning an instrument, even supposing that they can afford the cost of one. But the instruments of vocal music are the gift of nature ; they are always with us; and to learn to use our voices is far less labour than to learn to use an instrument. Singers with strong voices can seldom venture to practise more than two or three hours a day, while pianists, violinists, etc., frequently practise eight hours, year after year. We are speaking, of course, of professional players, but with amateurs the same proportions hold good. Far be it from our purpose to disparage the study of instruments. The pianoforte is already so popular that it needs no advocacy ; but it is much to be desired that stringed and reed instruments should be more widely practised, and family orchestras become more general. Instrumental music, however, is beside our present purpose, for in the series of papers now begun we shall confine ourselves to teaching the student to read music, and shall not deal with the mechanism of any instrument. The lessons to come are, however, addressed to all who wish to cultivate music, whether instrumental or vocal—not merely to singers. Family Orchestras, ----º-º-º-º- For no one should begin the study of an in- strument without first learning to sing. “The hideous results of first attempts at performance on the violin, and a good many instruments besides,” says Mr. Hullah, “are generally due to a single cause, and that cause a remediable one—the still all but universal practice of teach- ing Music, and performance on an e artificial instrument, together. By Teaching teaching music, as distinct from * musical performance, I mean inducing that sympathy of eye and ear which enables its possessor to know what a succession of musical symbols brought under the eye should repre- sent to the ear ; OT vice versá, how a succession, and even a combination of sounds, addressed to the ear, may be recorded and presented intelligibly to the eye : in fewer words, to enable the musical student to knomy the sound of what he sees represented in musical cha- racters. Now, not only can this be done, but it can be best and most easily done, through an instrument God has given to every human creature—the voice. All musical education should begin—the earlier the better—with singing, the rational practice of which involves the acquisition of a number of principles and facts and—more important still—the early formation of a number of habits, which lie at the root alike of musical science and skill. This rule having been followed, the beginner on whatever instrument would find a great deal of the work apparently before him really behind him.” There are a large number of persons who would like to learn to sing, but are deterred by what they call “having no voice.” It is true that people ex- hibit very different aptitudes for music, and it is also true that the later in life the study is begun, the more difficult it is. But as a rule, to which the exceptions are very few, every one who can speak may learn to sing. Lengthened experience and observation leads us to doubt the musical incapacity of persons who have attained middle life without giving any attention to the subject, and abso- lutely to disbelieve the musical incapacity of young persons and children. People differ, no doubt, in the time required to awaken and train the ear; but those who are incapable of being made to distinguish a high note from a low, or to imitate a given sound, are no more commonly met with than those who are colour-blind, Or have no sense of smell. There is, of course, a great difference between persons as to matural quality of voice, the quickness of ear which detects the slightest, discord, and above all in that “soul for music” which is the highest endowment of the artist. But in spite of this it may still be said that everyone may learn to sing. Singing may be studied for many purposes. The majority cultivate it as a refining and satisfying pleasure; and as the world every year gets busier, so the - soothing and elevating influence "*" of good music is more and more felt. Others, again, use their gift as a means to useful ends, in church music, or Im the thousand purposes of philanthropy and popular advancement. One ſ - "Having no voice.” An object in 12 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. use of singing is, however, seldom remembered ... —that is, that it promotes health. For health's Indirectly it does this by giving sake, a flow of spirits, and chasing away weariness and despondency. But it does this also directly by the exercise which it gives to the lungs and the vital organs. We cannot sing without an increased action of the lungs, and this causes the heart, and all the organs of digestion and nutrition, to work with renewed vigour. The singer brings a greater quantity of air in contact with the blood, and hence the blood is better purified and vitalised. Healthful and highly oxygenated blood gives energy to the brain, and thus the mind, as well as the body, shares the benefit of the exercise. Singers know well that singing Inakes them hungry, and from these considera- tions the reason of their hunger is clear. II. NECESSITY FOR AN INTRODUCTORY NOTATION. When we notice how universally young and old, rich and poor, enjoy music, and then re- flect how few compara- tively are able to read music, and to gratify their natural taste for an ennobling art, We cannot but be struck with the thought that something is Out of joint. Either the thing itself is very difficult of attainment, or else the means of attaining it are unnecessarily hard and troublesome. Now, there |; is no royal road to music. The training of ear and º {{#ſ 2 § | S. f.º. ººgº §º º ºr N º º º º ... eye and †† º Staff-notation voice takes #|| º # § º difficulties, ". :#|| time under ſº º any and every system ; but experience has W § ŁºśS § ſºft||| N sº #s 2----- š - ==Est= But a system to be generally used must not require a special amount of perseverance and thought and time. If it does, only the few will accomplish it, and this is the case with the staff notation. It is true that an enormous number of people will tell you that they “un- derstand the old notation,” but this “under- standing ” is a very uncertain quantity. The majority have picked up a little knowledge, and with the help of the pianoforte, can get the notes they want. Without this help a singer of this sort has no certain ground to stand upon ; he goes up or down with the notes, but homy far up or down is a matter of experiment. His sense of “what ought to be" guides his voice, and after trying a piece over several times he manages to have it correct. In a chorus he follows the few independent “readers” within hearing. As to rhythm he has the same general notion, and the same want of an exact con- sciousness of the value of the signs. It is an abuse of the word to call this “Tead- ing.” No one is considered to read a language who isconstantly mispro- nouncing the words and stopping Ready ºwº; reading, should be the same with music. Not until we can read music fluently, like a printed book, are we entitled to say that we understand the staff notation. It is not the fault of the staff notation that Guessing " one's way, غ º ºx: & Zºº §§§ & º §º º: º Ş ºN § Š N instrument. It gives a picture of the key-board of the pianoforte or º § it places difficulties in º º the way of the beginner. § §§ That notation was never § lº designed as a teachin fº §§ § $5 & g shown that the staff ### #== organ; but the method notation presents ficti- º: tºº #sº of the Singer is not that tious and discouraging º *Q sºy -- of the player. “I be. difficulties to the be- ANCIENT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS. lieve,” says ..., d ginner, and that if a. Dr. Štainer, Singers ºn 5 players, simpler notation be used at first, progress in the end will be quicker and far more Solid. It may be supposed that this is a personal opinion of my own, but it is not so. Dr. Stainer, the well-known organist of St. Paul's Cathedral, in a recent paper Tead before the Musical Association of London, dealt with this point. He said he honoured the enthusiasm of those teachers who say that the notation itself is very easy, but that the fact remains that you cannot go into any ordinary choral society without finding that the number of peo- ple who can read music is discreditably Small. The only way in which he could account for this state of things was that the thing itself— that is, the notation—is difficult. I do not say that the staff notation is so difficult that the diligent student, with plenty of time at his disposal, cannot master it. To say this would be "absurd, because hundreds have done SO. “that in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred, the first impulse of a singer is, when a vocal part is placed before him, to con- sider the relations of the sounds te the key- Scale and to each other.” On the other hand, the first thing the player wants to know is, whereabouts on his key-board the notes stand. Evidently the singer, especially in his early steps, needs to be told forcibly and directly the key-relationship of every note he is called upon to utter. And any contrivance which does this for him will be an invaluable help. Speaking of the notation which will be used in these lessons to introduce the learner to the staff notation, Dr. Stainer says, “In it the rela- tions of the seven sounds of the scale are so plainly evident alike to eye and ear, even when chromatically altered, that the correct singing of intervals becomes a matter of comparative ease,” alet it not be supposed that the use of PENMA WSHIP. 13 this auxiliary notation delays the progress of those who are anxious to learn the staff nota- tion. Being capable of expressing An auxiliary music of every sort, it may be *tion used independently of and concur- rently with the staff notation, but it also serves the purpose of a key to that notation; and the pupil who approaches the staff notation through an introductory course of these exercises will learn far more of music in the same time than one who begins at once with the staff. This fact has been proved over and over again. In the instructions and exercises which follow, then, the tonic sol-fa notation will be used at first, to explain the first principles in the nature of music. A staff notation version of the ex- ercises will be given, but the learner should take no notice of this at present. It is intended for future use, and to help those who already know something of the staff notation. The lessons will lead up to the staff notation, and its signs will in due time be explained. When the course is ended, let us hope that the student will be able to read that notation, and sing from it with fluency. Before, however, pro- ceeding to the practice of singing, we pause to describe the instrument with which Nature has endowed us for the act of singing—the Voice, BY W. J. E. CRANE. I. THERE are, perhaps, few branches of elemen- tary educational training to which more im- portance attaches than the art of Impººf penmanship. In , almost every penmanship, department of active or business life a good handwriting is one of the best cre- dentials that can be offered. It is required at the present day from all holding positions, whether high or humble, in our Civil Service; it is indispensable alike to the legal and mercan- tile clerk, and in many walks of life any grave deficiency in penmanship will undoubtedly bar the aspirant's way to success. To the man of letters good handwriting is certainly not less necessary. Many are the errors of which the luckless printers have to bear the blame, but which would have been avoided had the “copy’” only been decently legible. Even to those whose only exercise of the pen is in the pro- duction of letters to absent friends, good writ- ing is not of trivial importance either to the comfort of the writers or of their correspon- dents. Yet despite these incontestable facts a large proportion of mankind unquestionably write very badly, and it is with the hope that we may be of service to at least some who wish to become expert and elegant penmen that we commence these lessons. Notwithstanding the fact that good hand- writing is generally appreciated and desired, there are some who, even in this nineteenth I- century, affect to ignore its claims and under- rate its usefulness. It is amusing in this connection to note the tenacious- ness alike of prejudices and Gºod Pºnman- errors. Among the former may *. :* be reckoned the notion, current errated, at one time amongst the upper classes, and not yet, unfortunately, quite obsolete, that writing legibly is an acquisition beneath a gentle- man’s notice, or even unworthy of him, as evincing a plebeian attention to a matter of detail. The idea is an old one, Hamlet tells Horatio— “I Once did hold it, as our statists do, A basemess to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning.” And many seem of the same opinion in our own days. It is not long since that a writer in the Saturday Review spoke in terms of dis- paragement of Caligraphy, and more than hinted that all great men had been bad writers. For the “lower middle classes,” or the “feminine correspondents,” good penmanship might, in- deed, in the reviewer's opinion, be all very well; but such a “humble, excellent, clerkly, working-man's virtue,” is not deserving of the notice of men of genius or position. Nor is this writer solitary in his opinion. We re- member the proprietor of one of our most successful periodicals devoted to fiction re- marking that authors who wrote good hands never produced anything worth reading ; and it is recorded that when Edgar Poe, the poet, competed for a certain prize, it was awarded to him for his tale “A MS. found in a Bottle,” On the remarkable ground that he was “the first of geniuses who wrote legibly.” A very slight acquaintance with the manuscripts of eminent men will, however, dissipate the absurd idea that there is any necessary connec- tion between talent and bad penmanship. On the contrary, very many celebrated men and women have been remarkable for the extreme beauty of their caligraphy. To instance a few men of genius or talent : The handwriting of Keats was extremely good, as was - also that of Shelley. The wit and a Connection - etween talent pathos of Thackeray were en- . penman- shrined in characters worthy of ship, the matter. To take a few names at random from the past : Gray, Rogers, and Leigh Hunt, a poetic triumvirate; Sheridan Knowles, the dramatist; Charles Kingsley, Lord Brougham, the late Earl of Derby, and Lord Wellesley, were all excellent penmen, Of course we do not attempt to deny that some able and distinguished persons have per- petrated the most horrible scrawls. But this is simply the result of defective early training or carelessness, and they have themselves fre- quently deplored the fact. The celebrated Dr. Samuel Parr, for instance, wrote a terribly bad hand, and in º his “Life of Fox " he feelingly t laments it, and urges young men to Shun his example, and follow that of his erudite rival and opponent, Dr. Porson, who was a caligra- phist of unequalled delicacy, and covered the broad margins of his numerous old Greek folios with a profusion of notes in a marvellously 14 THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR. beautiful handwriting. Archdeacon Coxe, the well-known author of the “History of the House of Austria,” was another conspicuous transgressor against the canons of good penmanship. Jacob Bryant said that the reverend gentleman's was neither a “hand,” nor even a “fist,” but a “foot,” and a “club’’ one too. The arch- deacon’s lines resembled a “tangled skein of black silk ’’ running across the sheet of paper. Bishop Barrington remonstrated with him on one occasion respecting a certain letter the archdeacon had sent him, the writing of which was even worse than usual, and quoted for his benefit am anecdote of a certain French gentle- man who had addressed a correspondent in these words: “Out of respect, sir, I write to you with my own hand; but to facilitate the reading I send you a copy, which I have caused my amanuensis to make.” Talleyrand, the great French diplomatist, held that language was given to man to enable him to conceal his thoughts; but Eminent bad writers, unable to read any one of the numerous leading articles which he wrote, although two or three old and experienced compositors in his printing- office, to whom alone the MS. was entrusted, could generally ferret out his meaning, or— more probably—give a meaning to the caba- listic signs. A youth of similar calibre— graphically only—once showed to Macready a tragedy which he purposed offering to a certain theatrical manager. “Have it copied into Christian characters, my dear sir,” said the great tragedian, “ or the cumulative horror of the handwriting, added to the dire despair of the plot, will be too much for any manager living.” The aspirant followed the advice, and his work was duly enshrined in neat law sta- tioner's hand before it dared its fate. The only possible excuse for this style of writing is contained in the naïve confession of a certain fast young gentleman whose father had re- monstrated with him anent the illegibility of his penmanship. “By Jove, sir,” he responded, candidly, “it’s John Bell, of the Chancery Bar, improved up on that statesman’s dictum with regard at least to one of the garbs of lan- guage — Writ- ing. This emi- nent pleader is said to have written no less than three distinct — OT rather indis- tinct—hands: one which his clerk could read, another which only gentlemanly to write a bad hand, you know, and if I didn't people would find out the bad spel- ling ; and bad spelling isn't gentlemanly — n O w a t least l” It may pro- bably happen that some less culpable mem- bers of the class of bad Writers will read these pages. If so, we trust they himself could read, and a third which neither he, his clerk, nor any one else could decipher. Such trifiers with other people's time and temper feel no com- punction for the annoyance or pain they inflict on those who happen to be under the necessity of interpreting their hieroglyphics, which frequently they themselves Doubtful ... do not recognize as their own. *Y* “Jonathan,” said a respected sorawls, member of the Society of Friends one day to his brother, “I have spent much time over this copy of thy letter of advice to Rivolta Hijos, of Rio, and cannot make out a single word.” “Truly, Reuben, thou art wrong,” was the placid reply. “Didst thou not write our esteemed correspondents thyself? and indeed, brother, thy hand is but a vile one.” It is probable that the late HoraceGreeley, the successful American journalist, was ſocile Princeps of hieroglyphists. To no other mortal has it been given to achieve so bad a hand. It is a well-known fact that he was utterly Horace Gree- ley's “hand,” ORNAMENTAL PENMAN SEIIP. will at once resolve to re- move the stigma by following out the system which will be developed in the following course. We guarantee them success, as the method ad- vised will meet the requirements of the adult equally with those of the youthful student. Perseverance is the only thing needed, and they may take Lord Chesterfield's axiom to heart. It is as truthful as reassuring. “Every man,” he says, “who has the use of his eyes and his right hand can write whatever hand he pleases.” The late Sir Arthur Helps, in his eloquent “Friends in Council,” makes one of the interlo- cutors say justly : “It is certainly astonishing to see how very few people write legibly. I can't think how it is that bad writers make up their minds to lose so much force as they do by bad writing. If you address anything to a correspondent, you want him to understand it at once, You want it to come with its full force upon his mind. Accordingly, if you write a word badly, you had better erase it, and Good penman- ship easily to be gained, EWGLISH GRAMMAR. 15 write the word over again carefully. You do not wish your friend to puzzle over what you are imparting to him. Bad writers cannot now plead great examples for bad writing. It is a Curious thing; but going back for a long period, you may notice that, with few exceptions, prime ministers have been re- *. a markably good writers. Canning, *...* I am told, wrote an exquisite hand; the Duke of Wellington, a clear and noble one ; Sir Robert Peel, a most legible hand—athought, perhaps, too mercantile for beauty, but still an excellent hand. Lord Palmerston's handwriting is a model of good penmanship ; Lord John Russell's forcible and distinct ; and I might continue to give a long list of eminent men who have not disdained to take much pains with their handwriting. I mention these statesmen because all of them had, or have, to write a great quantity in the course of most days, and might fairly be excused if they wrote badly. I am sorry to condemn bad writing, for it hits some of my best friends very hard.” And in one of his essays, recurring to the same topic, stress is laid upon the illegibility of some letters of celebrated men, which were lying before the interlocutors. The signature of one “was generally, thought to resemble the first step of a centipede after it had crawled out of an ink-bottle.” I. INTRODUCTION. “GRAMMAR, the ground and strong foundation Upon which Lady Learning builds her tower; Grammar, the pathway and direction That leadeth unto Pallas’ sacred bower.” (John Lame, Tel-Troth's Message, 1600.) Why should we learn English Grammar P 1. An Englishman ought to know his own tongue. 2. Grammar helps— (a) To train the mind in reasoning. (b) To understand past and present literature, (c) To test usage in speech and writing. § 3. Meaning of the term grammar. § 4. Language, spoken and written. WHAT is grammar 7 What is the use of study- ing it? Can I not speak and read my own mother tongue? Such will probably be the kind of questions which the intelligent learner, eager for self-improvement, will put and seek to answer before committing him or herself to the revival of forgotten or but partially remem- bered school lessons. He will perhaps have a confused idea that English is a language full of anomalies and irregularities, and that a few simple rules are enough for the daily purposes of life; or he may have heard that to understand the grammar of his own language it is necessary to learn that of the Latin, English, it is said, is so illogical, so full of exceptions and inconsisten- cies, that we must go to a foreign language which is more defined and bounded by stricter rules to help us to see what we ought to have in our own. Let us try to satisfy these ques- tions, examine these doubts, and give some firm motive for the exertions of the student. § 1. First of all, what some may call the sentimental, but which I prefer to call the patriotic view of the question, is worth a moment's consideration. Is it not a shame to many of us, our ignorance of this valuable and beautiful instrument by which we carry on our daily existence 7 The pleasures of familiar intercourse, the duties of public life, our com- merce, the progress of Science and philosophy, the effects of law and morals, of religion itself— all in which Englishmen feel they have a special interestand possession—are affected by the more or less skilful and accurate use we make of our language. We inherit a grand estate of history and science; a noble literature, the expression of the great thoughts and deeds of our race; we are proud of our Alfred, our Chaucer, our Bacon, our Shakespeare, our Newton; and yet, instead of cherishing and cultivating the strong and harmonious instrument by which alone we know what we have been and keep to what we are, which answers to every chord in our character, we are too often content to despise or neglect it, devoting more time and attention to getting a Smattering of a dead language than to the attaining a mastery over our own. The French have set us an excellent example: though the historic method may not with them be generally followed, they take pains that in all their schools and colleges their actual everyday speech shall be carefully taught, with all its rules and details. Happily the reproach is now being removed from us ; the advance made in the science of language of late years, and the serious study of English, joined with the ex- ertions of English Scholars, have had a marked effect upon the attention given to our tongue in the curriculum of English schools. Every one has now the opportunity of making himself acquainted with the history and grammar of his own speech: Surely it is the duty of English men and women to seize it. Richard Carew, writing in 1598, on the “Excellencies of the English Tongue,” thus descants upon its sweetness, in comparison with the qualities of other tongues: “The Italian is pleasant, but without sinews, as a still fleeting water. The French delicate, but even nice as a woman, scarce daring to open her lips for feare of marring her countenance. The Spanish majesticall, but fulsome, running too much on the O, and terrible like the Diveli in a play. The Dutch man-like, but withall very harsh, as one ready at every word to picke a quarrell. Now we, in borrowing from them, give the strength of consonants to the Italian, the full sound of words to the French, the varietie of terminations to the Spanish, and the mollifying of more vowels to the Dutch: and so, like bees, gather the honey of their good properties, and leave the dregs to themselves.” And the poet and accomplished scholar Sir Philip Sidney said of English, “For the utter, ing Sweetly and properly the conceit of the 16 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUOTOR. minde, which is the ende of speech, that hath it equally with any other tongue in the world.” Now to the worth which was felt by these English-lovers so long ago, when the use of the language was confined to narrower bounds, add the importance of its extent at the present day; the vastly greater interests with which it deals are thus well summed up by the American writer G. P. Marsh, in his “Lectures on the English Language”:— “English is the vernacular, not merely of a greater number, but of a greater variety of persons, than any tongue ever used by man. It is spoken from the equator to near the ultimate limit of human habitation in either hemisphere; and, starting from the British capital, the geographical centre of the solid surface of the globe, it has followed a thousand radii to the utmost circumference. Especially is it found established upon all great lines of traffic and communication, at all great points of agricultural or mechanical production ; and wherever human life exists in its most energetic, most restless, intensest forms, there it is the organ for the expression of all that belongs to man's dearest interests, widest sympathies, highest aspirations. It is, moreover, eminently the language of liberty; for, of those to whom it is native, by far the largest portion enjoy a degree of personal, social, political, and religious freedom never before possessed by humanity upon a great scale. From all these circum- stances there are to be found among those who habitually use the English tongue, and are familiar with written language, if not a greater diversity of character, at least greater differ- ences of interest and external condition, a more generally diffused culture, and a wider range of thought, than have ever before been united by one medium of communication. . . . Thus, for the living author, English is what Latin and Greek re for the dead—a cosmo- polite speech, whose range in comprehensive- ness of space corresponds to the duration of the classical tongues in time.” (Lecture xx.) Let, then, an Englishman learn other tongues, and appreciate them to the full, but certainly let him know a great deal about his own. § 2. The value of the study of English grammar (in its extended sense—see the next section) may be said to be threefold. (a) Grammar is of great service as an intel- lectual training for the mind; it is a science, in which, as in other sciences, we have to consider a number of facts, try them and observe them in every possible way, and learn how to make the best use of them according to certain natural laws. We start with the ad- vantage of having our mother-tongue before us, so that we are familiar with a large body of facts to begin with ; we exercise our powers of reason in marshalling and arranging them; as we advance in knowledge, we find out the laws which language obeys ; the anomalies disappear, there is seen to be a reason for every apparent exception or inconsistency, and, arguing from the known to the unknown, we finally arrive at the belief that there is no part of it which is not under some law of growth, some real principle in usage. (b) He who takes up the study of words and historical grammar gains, as it were, a new sense, which increases his power of enjoying our great Writers, especially those of past times, whose use of the tongue was different from ours. If, with Professor Seeley, we must “call that man uncivilized who is not connected with the past through the state in which he lives, and sympathy with the great men that have lived in it,” everything that helps us to understand that past is worthy to be known. A study of the English in which great or lovely thoughts were cast often leads us closer to the thoughts themselves, a sense of the fitness of words quickens our sympathy with the writer, and a knowledge of the meaning which has been borne by words at different stages of their history will save us from many a misinterpretation of the ideas intended to be conveyed. As the scholar who truly learns to draw discovers ever new beauties in nature because he is learning the use of his eyes, so the student of English is ever finding fresh pleasures in literature because he is learning how speech has been and may be used. (c) It helps us to test and correct our lan- guage in writing and in speaking. Not that we learn to speak and write by means of grammar, —speaking and writing come to us by use ; good language and a good style are acquired, as Addison long ago observed, by habitual inter- course with good speakers, and by the study of the standard works in literature which give familiarity with the best usages of speech. But when we consciously come to pay attention to the form and method of our speech, grammar then steps in and helps us to the reasons and the guides by which to test our usage. § 3. From what has been said it will be understood that a liberal construction of the term “grammar” is here intended. The word grammar (from the Greek grapho, I write) means that science which treats of language when myritten down. But, it will be said, we can say that “he speaks bad grammar”; also we hear of a grammar being taken down from an unwritten language, as was done by Dr. Moffat for one of the tribes of South Africa, who possessed nothing written in their tongue. In the first of these instances we mean to Say that the speaker uses language which does not conform to the rules adopted by general consent as those by which the best myritten speech should be guided. We ought to say “he speaks badly, according to grammar”; the sentence is a contracted one. The second case leads us to what is really the important point to be remembered,—that Language existed first, and Grammar after- wards. There can be obviously no grammar without a language. § 4. Language consists of articulate speech addressed to the ear, and of written speech addressed to the eye. There is also what is Sometimes called visible or silent speech, in which gesticulations and motions do duty for articulate sounds—as in the language used by the deaf and dumb; but with this last grammar does not concern itself, GEO LOGY. 17 We must recollect that spoken language is made up of words, each word representing a notion or part of a notion. Sometimes one word may represent more than one notion; for example, “John's book’’ represents three no- tions: (1) book; (2) belonging to ; (3) John. When men began to record their words, wish- ing to convey them to others or to transmit them to posterity, then arose the use of letters and combinations of letters, as signs by which to represent sounds to the eye. In many cases a letter would represent a whole sound or syllable; in others it required a combination of letters to represent a syllable. The Chinese and Japanese are syllabic languages—that is, languages in which each letter stands for a syllable or whole sound of pronunciation. The difference between our written signs and theirs makes this able to be seen; thus, Tomita, Otomi (Japanese proper names), and Toka (the present Japanese name for their capital Yedo), which we spell with six, five, and four Ketters respectively, are written in Japanese with three, three, and two lettels, according to the syllables represented by our characters To-mi- ta, O-to-mi, To-ka. In English and other western languages, on the contrary, a com- bination of letters is required to form a syllable or a word. Written language, then, is made up of letters, syllables, words, and groups of words, recording visibly our speech and the sounds by which we give expression to thought. : º is §% ºš %iº § & 3× GEölöö & --- § # sº §§º ...~~ :-->ººººº-ºº: º --> BY J. T. YOUNG, F.G.S. INTRODUCTORY. GEOLOGY may be defined as the physical his- tory of the earth's surface and the history of the succession of life which has existed upon it. This definition, however, involves another. By the “earth's surface” we mean what is commonly called “the crust of the earth": that is, so much of the exterior of the globe as we can get at, from the tops of the highest mountains to the depths of the ocean bed and the bottom of the deepest mine. Everywhere we discover, by careful observation, not only that changes are now going on, but that everything bears the impress of similar change in the past. To decipher these records and arrange them is the object of the geologist. It will be seen, there- fore, that Geology and Physical Geography are closely allied studies—but they are not identical. Physical Geography describes, but does not ex- plain; it deals with the varied features of the earth's surface only in their present condition, and does not attempt to show how they were produced. The moment we ask homy, ºvhy and when they became what they are, we pass from the province of Physical Geography and enter WOL. I. the domain of that science with which we have to deal in these pages—GEOLOGY. At some time or other during the long period with which the geologist has to deal, nearly every part of the earth's surface with which we are acquainted has been under water, and a great portion at least of that which now forms the bed of the ocean has been dry land. There have also been variations of climate, the causes of which are more or less obscure ; and animals, in many respects unlike those now in existence, have roamed the earth or inhabited wº- —º =#-:-- == = =## == ----- - -- - - --- = E- --- --- *:-- - - e--- :* -: * — - –––––– = == #º º: §§§ sºilài * . º §ºllº º iº. #.º.º. tºll, rºſiº §. THE GIANT’s CAUSEWAY. the waters; but there is no reason for supposing that the laws of life and matter were at any time different from those with which we are familiar, or that rocks have been formed by processes now unknown. The earth as we are acquainted with it is a world of order and of law, and we have no evidence that it has ever been otherwise. With the conditions under which it existed before the appearance of life upon its surface we do not propose to occupy ourselves here. There has no doubt been a time when it was not fitted to support either animals or plants; but to discuss the theories that have been formed respecting that period and those conditions would be out of place. We shall deal with the subject briefly towards the end of these chapters. I. GEOLOGICAL FACTS AND INFERENCES, ILLUS- TRATED BY THE STRUCTURE OF THE MENDIPS. After these preliminary remarks we proceed to take our first lesson, drawing the necessary illustrations from the Mendip Hills of Somerset- shire. These hills are generally described as a limestone ridge four to five miles in width, and extending in a W.N.W. direction from near Frome to the Bristol Channel—a distance of about twenty-five miles. They are not, how- ever, entirely composed of limestone. Patches of red sandstone are to be found at the highest points; and there are other kinds of rock, which in many places fie over the limestone and hide it from view. A considerable proportion is under cultivation, and villages are numerous. The larger part is open pasturage ; Small 2 18 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. woods and plantations are to be seen here and there, and the general aspect is one of great beauty. The vegetation, however, differs greatly, according to the nature of the under- lying rock, and there is but little difficulty in ascertaining what that rock is. On the hill- sides the great ribs of limestone are scarcely at all obscured by grass; road-cuttings and ºgºś, #º: {s}; $º §§ §ºś º Fº tº; lſº §§ ºff-jº #$ºğ - ºš tº: º s CR º " SLAB of LIMESTONE, WITH STEMS, ETC., of ENCRINITES. quarries afford convenient opportunities for examination, Valleys which intersect the hills in various directions are equally available, and the careful observer will seldom be at a loss in tracing out the main features of the country. a. Old Red Sand- formed under water and hence is to be de- scribed as sedimentary rock—a term which the student must bear in mind as one of the three divisions into which all rocks are classified. The example before us shows that these sedimentary rocks may vary greatly in charac- ter, and differ almost entirely as to the materials of which they . are composed. The sandstone, * for instance, as its name suggests, is made up almost entirely of grains of sand with a few small specks of a glistening mineral, and cemented into a hard stone by a reddish substance which upon examination proves to be iron rust, the “peroxide ’’ of iron of the chemist. The grains of sand are frag- ments more or less waterworn of rock Crystal (quartz); the glistening, particles are small scales of mica. The origin of the rock, there- fore, is apparent at a glance. It cannot for a moment be supposed that the quartz sand was formed where it is now found. The appear- ance of the grains themselves, and their asso- ciation with the mica, point at once to the source from which they were derived—the breaking up and waste of some pre-existing granitic rock. The material thus obtained, washed down by the rains and rivers into what was probably an inland sea or lake-bounded on the west and north by the Welsh mountains, but the extent of which east and South we do not exactly know—was there arranged, and e Coal Measures. b L.” Limest ! Ž, ! NS f J. Dolomitic Conglo- OWer IſlöSt OI).9 e2+:FºxxYVReºš merate. C ãº, it ===º 㺠% sº †: * P c Carb on if erous fæº 2% ºft § <\\\ aetic (or Peh- Limestone. ź ăș 㺠N 9 ºß. d Millstone Grit. t dº C e dº. h Lias. SECTION AcRoss THE MENDIP HILLS (after Mr. H. B. Woodward). Supposing this to be done, there are two methods by which such observations are re- corded, besides that of verbal description. One is to show on an Ordinary map, by means of different colours, the extent of each kind of rock; and by the use of various signs a great deal of additional information may be indicated at the same time. It is in this way that “geological maps” are generally formed, but as they only show the surface of the country they are frequently accompanied by vertical sections, to render them more intelligible. The foregoing is a vertical section, showing the structure of the country—from the surface to a considerable depth below the sea level—from Shepton Mallet across Beacon Hill, one of the highest points of the Mendips. Let us see what it teaches. The first thing that calls for notice is the symmetrical arrangement of the different kinds of rock which make up the entire mass. These are indicated in the diagrams by means of dots and lines. The central bed of Sand- stone is flanked on either side by a band of “limestone shale.” Outside these are slanting masses of true limestone, and beyond these again beds which are distinguished by the designation “millstone grit,” and these are succeeded by coal. Taking them one by one, we shall see that each of these beds has been consolidated ; and having been cemented by deposits of iron probably obtained from the same source, became what we now find it. The bands marked b show an entire change of character. Instead of Sandstone we get an impure limestone,which breaks up into thin irregular layers, with The limestone similar shaly material made of * hardened, clay, some of which becomes quite soft on exposure to the atmosphere. Unlike the red sandstone,these beds contain fossils—all of them marine—such as corals, “stone lilies '' (en- crinites), etc., etc. The cause of this change in character was in all probability a gradual sinking down of the land, until the great ocean flooded the inland sea or lake in which the Sandstone was then being deposited. The alteration thus made would certainly vary the nature of the sediment, and in this way most probably the change was brought about. The true limestones (marked e) are also fossiliferous. Shells, corals, remains of en- crimites (stone lilies), etc., etc., are very abundant; and altogether it The is beyond doubt that we have *.* limestone, through the entire thickness nothing more than the gradually accumulating mud of the ancient sea bottom, with the remains of the animal life by which the waters were tenanted, hardened and partially altered THE FRIENDLY COUNSEZ LOR. 10 by the slowly operating agencies of nature. We * ... now come to the beds marked d, Millstone#rit the so-called “millstone grit,” of ** which it is enough to say now that their character shows that the sea in which they were formed was once more getting shallower; and beyond these we have (at e) the coal measures, of which the most important features are the seams of coal formed of the remains of plants which grew upon the land and were subsequently altered into the mineral substance which we use for fuel. |HE ONE of Addison's best-known papers in the famous Tatler is an allegory frequently re- published under the title of The Choice of Piercules. It describes the mythical hero as listening alternately to the grave arguments and promises of Virtue on the one hand and the blandishments and inducements of Vice on the other, and relates the decision at which Hercules arrived. If we somewhat extend the conventional meaning of the word Virtue to include intellectual strength and graces as well as moral truth and purity, and of Vice to mean mental waste and neglect of intellectual culti- wation in addition to the grosser forms of moral weakness, we might not inaptly apply the allegory to the choice which every youth, standing at the gate of manhood, is—if he would be a man in something more than age, stature, and name—called upon to make. The influ- ences brought to bear upon him are very potent, arising partly from within and partly from without, from his own nature and from the inducements and example of others; and a young man must be sadly, almost culpably, indifferent to the future, if he does not endea- vour to test very seriously his own capacity for exercising adult privileges, and his desire to attain to greaterintellectual and moralstrength. The gate of physical manhood stands in- vitingly open, and all who possess average health may enter; but the gate of intellec- tual and moral manhood marks the entrance to a domain which only trained, disciplined, mentally enlarged minds can enjoy, or can even fitly occupy. Physical, intellectual, and D. moral manhood unite to form the true man,— each phase of character with its great and peculiar pleasures, each with its successes, but, united, commanding the greatest pleasures and successes which humanity can enjoy or achieve. Even near approach to the full attainment of this condition is not possible to all—indeed, to very few ; for physical and intellectual power rarely attain full develop- ment in the same individual, and even when rare qualities of body and mind are united, there is frequently a deficiency of moral strength, defective aspiration and power of f k will, which counterbalance the other advan- tages. But the ideal remains the same, and if it cannot be reached, may at least be accepted as indicating the direction of effort. If all cannot be as strong as the strongest, as wise as the wisest, as unselfishly good as those “ of whom the world was not worthy,” it stands as an incontrovertible truth that theyouth does not live who may not be mentally stronger than he is now, and morally more estimable, if he sin- cerely desires to cultivate the power he pos- sesses, and sets to work in all earnestness to surmount the difficulties—much smaller diffi- culties than they appear to the timid or indifferent—which stand in his way. Probably no youth ever lived who did not —unless he was hopelessly weak, or smitten with a feeling of weariness of life, very terrible in the young — look forward with intense eagerness to the time when he should be, by the usage of Society and the operation of civil law, entitled to wear the toga virilis (the garb of a man in the old Roman times), the out- ward symbol that he had reached the age when he is to be considered as an independent and responsible citizen, to be emancipated from parental control, and be as free to follow his own inclination in business and pleasure as the circumstances of his social position will admit. This eagerness and ambition is natural and laudable. We are progressive beings; manhood is the development of youth, as youth is of childhood; but the one stage is as dis- tinctly an advance on the preceding in the one case as in the other. The child, from its very childishness, sees only the external ad- vantages of increased stature and strength, an enlarged field of amusement and activity, and privileges not enjoyed in the nursery. The youth, with a greater capacity, and more know- ledge of the outer world, knows that a certain amount of preparation is necessary before manhood can be enjoyed, if enjoyment is his only object; and a very great amount of pre- paration, if he realizes, even imperfectly, the duties and responsibilities which manhood in- volves. Youth has always an ideal of man- hood; it is the nature of the ideal which sym- bolizes the Virtue or the Vice of the allegory. A youth standing at the gate of manhood may take for his ideal, the model which he attempts to imitate, either the young man as he may be if trained by mental and moral culti- vation, or the young paan who thinks that all but external position and possible money- making is achieved, and that farther develop- ment of his faculties, except so far as they may be useful to those ends, is unnecessary. To the one who accepts the former ideal, the future presents great possibilities. The in- tellect, the imagination, the moral sense, each receives its promise. If there is not clearly seen a world to be conquered, there are lesser, but still great victories, te be won. The world, looked at by the eager eye of youth, is beau- tiful,--but how much more so if some of its mysteries can be read by the light of science 2 Figures of intellectual giants in philosophy, literature, and art, appear in the distance; but a young man may become familiar with their 20 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, * * faces, understand their talk, and share some- thing of the power and subtlety of their minds, if he draw near in a spirit of modest but determined effort to advance into higher light. There is, too, a perception of a brighter, purer life, of a vital manhood of self-control and discipline, of enlarged affections; more heroic devotion to right; readiness to fight bravely and unselfishly the battle of life, in which all must take a side; sympathy with great and good work, and sympathy for those who are morally, mentally, and physically weaker. Such a life is beyond the reach of none, although the higher achievements of *he intellect may be ; for what can be attained in the future by the mind or the body must necessarily be relative to original vigour of understanding and bodily gifts. But the effort to attain, the determination that the work, great or limited, shall be truly and sincerely done, and the aspiration to make the maturity and end of life better than the period of youth, —this it is which makes true manhood. What is the alternative ideal? That of a young man who treats intellectual exercises with con- tempt, because he feels no sympathy with them ; whose notion of manliness is to be an adept in certain accomplishments of an un- worthy kind; who repudiates sentimſent as weak and “womanish "; who aims to be sharp and shrewd, has no reverence for truth, and who seeks to hide his own deficiencies either by encouraging a thick-skinned conceit, or by persisting in bragging which he hopes will im- pose on others. Unfortunately there are many such, early familiarized with vicious thoughts and demoralizing habits, their nerves and bodily powers weakened by the use of tobacco, pro- fessing to believe it manly to have a tendency to intemperance, and readily adopting the modes of thought and personal habits of those whom they call “men of the world’—that is, men who sneer at abstract doctrines of vir- tue and the higher life as crude absurdities, and affect to accept no higher laws than those imposed by a very imperfect “society.” Better than such —better to the extent of having some Teverential feeling for the nobler verities of the intellect, such verities as are revealed by Science, philosophy, literature, and art—are many who suppose that the possession of special talents confers the privilege of neg- lecting matters of great importance. A vague kind of intellectual fervour, of sentimental feeling, is thought to cover a multitude of derelictions from the Social code of propriety; and a mistaken idea that a man of genius is a law to himself in subjects with which genius has no connection whatever, takes possession of the mind. Hence comes that phase of modern society known as“Bohemianism,”—that strangely founded belief that, because a young man feels a real pleasure in the sight of artistic works, and is able to appreciate aesthetic prin- ciples, or has the gift of language by which he can interpret his thoughts through the me- dium of melodious verse or fluent and effective prose, he is therefore called upon by the ne- cessity of his intellectually cultivated nature to neglect observances, sneer at beliefs, beirregular in moral life and degraded in personal habits. Mººn Sºğ §D) º: RAgº ºº::, .º. ºśrºSºº RY E. NEISON. I. ASTRONOMY, probably the most ancient of the physical sciences, bas maintained itself from the earliest known periods as one of the grandest branches of learning—a study worthy Of the closest attention of the wisest monarchs and the assiduous devotion of the most eminent Sages. For ages it was believed that hidden in the ever-varying aspect of the heavens was the key to the future destinies of the world and its multitudinous :. inhabitants. To him who deci- astrology, phered that key, everything would stand revealed, and he would be master of the secrets of nature. Knowledge is power, and he who was master of the future could rule the world. This was felt to be a glorious ambition, and an end worthy of the devotion of a lifetime, so that the greatest philosophers turned their attention to the assiduous study of the science which held out the hope of such a vast return. Other sciences, and especially geometry, were devised, learnt, and extended, but in most cases merely as an auxiliary by means of which astronomy could be still better understood. In those days astronomy and astrology were convertible terms. As science progressed it slowly began to be understood that this hope was vain, and that the heavens were not merely pictures of the future of man. But by this time astronomy had received a firm foundation, its fascinating interest as a science had begun to make itself felt. With a sigh the votaries of philosophy slowly gave up their astrological dreams and commenced to study astronomy as a Science. They devoted their energies to determining its laws and ascertaining the real meaning of its wonderful phenomena. Modern astronomy commenced, and the science made giant strides in the path of progress. Brilliant discoveries rewarded the intellectual labour bestowed on the science, and slowly but surely was reared the magnificent edifice of modern theoretical and physical astronomy. e In the present pages it is proposed to give a short account of astronomy—an account which is to be sufficiently extensive to enable any one to gain a clear rººt idea of the results which have *. astronomy. been already achieved by the study of this noble science, without its being essential that he should possess any previous knowledge of its technicalities. It is not our aim to teach astronomy, for that would require a thousand of these pages. Nor do we propose to write an introduction to astronomy as a Science, for that would be out of place. Tastly, it is not our intention to write a treatise on astronomy, for to this both objections would apply. We mean to give, as already stated, a short account of astronomy, and to make it ASTROWOMY. 21 as interesting and valuable as we can. A popular account it needs must be, an accurate account it is to be, and an instructive account it ought to be. At the same time care will be taken that he who proposes to devote an especial attention to astronomy, whose proud ambition it is to become an astronomer, will find in these pages a substantial basis on which to prosecute those further & studies without which he can never realize his aim. Nor will the owner of an astronomical tele- Scope, that most delightful instru- ment, find that his interests have been forgotten If he finds much about what has been seen or has been discovered, he will also find Something about what waits to be discovered or re- mains to be seen, and he may learn how to utilize his telescope to the best end, and per- chance how to enrol his name in the glorious list of those who have advanced astronomy by their dis- coveries. But it is time to stop, lest by mis- adventure more is promised than is carried out. Modern as- tronomy may be said to com- mence with the seventee n th century, when the indefatiga- ble Kepler laid the foundation for the grand achievements of mathemati- cal astronomy by the dis- covery of his famous three laws, and the illustrious Ga- lileo Galilei in- augurated the wondrous dis- coveries of phy- sical astronomy by constructing the first astronomical telescope and turning it on the heavens. We are going to describe modern astronomy, and it is here that we should begin. It is true that during the century previous to this epoch the study of astronomy had engaged the attention of many great philo- sophers, and that during its later years that sºsºs =s=s ss=== Sºs - Tºº--> ºccº FIG. 1.-PAR HELIA. FIG. 2.-HALLEY's coxſet. most celebrated astronomer Tycho Brahé had accumulated a most precious store of observa- tions. Yet it was only during the seventeenth century that these observations were properly reduced and rendered subservient to the pro- gress of modern astronomy. It is also true that many most important astronomical facts had been discovered by the zealous labours of the famous astro- nomers of the ancients; but these belong to the astronomy of their own period, and in general were not pro- perly understood until after the CO In men Cement, of theseventeenth century. It is therefore with the seventeenth century that our modern astTO- nomy begins, and it is with that period that we shall commence. Much has been written, and more has been said, by different philoso- phers on the best method of introducing a science Historical like astronomy. For Our present method best purpose the most satisfactory way for studying would appear to be to commence astronomy. de movo, and retrace the path by which astro- n O my h a s reached its present gran- deur. We thus proceed step by step in thesame manner as the science has it- É self progressed; ## . we arrive at the same diffi- culties, and Overcome them in the same Order, as these difficulties pre- sented them- selves to and Welle OVerCODne by those illus- trious astrono- mers who have rendered the science what it at presentis. Each problem will then come before us in the most natural way, and we shall not raise unnecessary difficulties by discussing the minutiae of the science before we have un- derstood the broad principles. An historical account of the progress of astronomy, it would also ºpeº, ought to be the roºt interesting ~ -->~~~ 22 THE UNIVERSAL INSTEUCTOR. method of stating the achievements of the Science, and this is no slight matter. We shall then find ourselves placed in the same position as those famous men of genius who have had to face the difficulties of the science, and have triumphantly overcome them. We shall be able to understand their difficulties, sympathize with them in their perplexities and rejoice in their triumphs, whilst we shall see how each Success has widened the science of astronomy, dissipated its difficulties, and led to fresh and as brilliant discoveries. By all means, therefore, let us proceed by giving an historical account of the progress and achievements of astronomy. In this historical account it is not intended to maintain chronological order with great strictness, for that would be inconvenient at times. Liberty must be reserved to pursue the history of each branch of our subject by itself, if that should seem advantageous. And when an anachronism is committed, perchance for the sake of clearness, or even an error by mischance, forgiveness is now craved at the very beginning. - Imagine ourselves back in the beginning of the seventeenth century, with all our trials and stop us for a moment. Every one knows that the sun, moon and stars rise every day in the east and set in the west; and it is apparent that this is at once explained by the daily rotation of the earth on its axis in an opposite direction—that is, from west to east. Nor should we require to go to an observatory to learn that the Sun is higher in the heavens in Summer than in winter. This we should soon see was the result of the inclination of the axis of the earth to the plane of its orbit. Fig. 3 shows this at once. We see the earth drawn as it is placed with regard to the sun at different times in the year. P is the north pole of the earth, and the straight line apparently dividing the earth into two halves is the equator, or great circle round the earth. In March it will be seen that the sun is overhead at the equator, and in England is about 51° from the zenith or point exactly overhead when it is in the meridian or great circle passing through the poles of the earth and zenith of the observer. As the earth moves in its orbit, the sun seems to rise higher in the heavens, until in June Explanation of apparent motion of the heavens, :F-- wº- * º 3%N==== (Z §§ º 7 FIG. 3.--THE EARTH IN Irel, ATION TO THE SUN. triumphs before us. What amount of astro- nomical knowledge could we learn from the labours of our predecessors? -- From that famous work De Revolutionibus Orbium, Celestivm, of the great canon of Thorn, . . Nicolas Copernicus, we should be Astronºmical able to learn the main point of * the true system of the universe. century. We should know that the sun was placed at the centre of the Solar system, and that the earth and other planets were much smaller bodies moving round the Sun. We should recognise that the moon was a satellite of the earth, moving round it and accompanying it in its annual journey round the sun. We should also be aware that the earth rotated on its axis in about twenty-four hours, and that this axis was inclined to the plane of the orbit of the earth. Let us see how far this knowledge would enable us to explain the phenomena of the heavens. And for this purpose let us sally out to our observatory, situated in the country village of Hampstead. The apparent motion of the heavens from east to west would not it is overhead in the circle round the earth, which is shown to the north of the equator, or nearer the pole P. It is then in England only about 28° from the zenith when in the meridian. It is now summer in the northern hemisphere but winter in the southern hemi- sphere, for the figure will show that when elevated in the northern hemisphere it must be depressed in the southern. As the earth proceeds in its annual journey the sun gets gradually lower in the heavens, until in Sep- tember it is again overhead at the equator, or in exactly the same position as in March. Finally, still falling in elevation, in December it is overhead in the places on the circle to the south of the equator, and in England when on the meridian rises only about 16° above the horizon. It is now winter in the northern hemisphere and summer in the southern. Further inspection of the figure , , , will show how the difference in Origin of the the length of the days and nights ... will be accounted for. The *::: the shaded portion of the globe shows the portion in which it is night, and the re- & ERMA. W. 23 mainder that in which it is day. In March the entire visible portion, or exactly one-half of both southern and northern hemispheres, is illuminated, so that in every part of the globe there is twelve hours in the illuminated portion and twelve hours in the dark portion. In March, or our spring, therefore, the day and night are twelve hours long. In June, however, it will be seen that more than one-half of the northern hemisphere is illuminated, and less than one- half of the southern hemisphere; consequently a point in the northern hemisphere will be for more than twelve hours in the bright portion and for less than twelve in the dark portion, so that the days will be long and the nights short. In fact, near the pole it will be Seen that the entire circumference is illumi- minated, so that the sun will be always visible and there will be no night. In the southern hemisphere it will be seen that the nights are long and days short, and near the south pole there is perpetual night. It will be seen that only at the equator are the day and night always of equal length. BY H. W. DULCKEN, Ph.D. I. THE ELAEMEWTS OF THE LAWG U.A. G. E. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.. THE study of a language naturally resolves itself into two great divisions—the GRAMMATICAL CONSTRUCTION and the PRONUNCIATION. The student who makes himself thoroughly ac- quainted with the grammar and vocabulary of a language will ovrite it correctly ; when he has, in addition, mastered the various combinations of Sounds it contains, and can distinctly and accurately enunciate those sounds, he will speak it correctly. In this course of study for intend- ing students of the German language, we shall proceed, not exactly according to the method followed in most grammars, but as a teacher would do in instructing a pupil who wishes to learn to speak and write the language as quickly as possible, that is, we shall put the different parts of the language before our readers as they would occur in an ordinary course of study; giving in the first place so much of the elements of the language as will enable the student to construct short and simple sentences for him- self; then proceeding to the more difficult rules, and so building up the fabric of the language, as it were, piece by piece, into a whole. NOUNS, the names of persons and things, and VERBS, by which we express action done or re- ceived, or a condition or state, and the ARTICLES prefixed to the noums, are the simplest elements of which sentences can be put together; there- fore in the first instance we call the attention of our student to some general rules on Nouns, ARTICLES and VERBS; and especially recommend him to study thoroughly the verb §aben, “to have,” the verb ſegm, “to be,” and the verb moerben (meaning when it stands alone “to become,” when it stands with another “to be’”)—for these verbs are indispensablein form- ing others; they are the aua'iliaries or helping verbs by which the others are conjugated. With a knowledge of these two verbs, and of the articles, together with a few nouns to proceed upon as a basis, the student ought at once to begin to put together sentences; and especially he should take every opportunity of increasing his vocabulary by learning the German of as many nouns in ordinary use as possible, the days of the week, the months and seasons of the year, the names of familiar objects, and things in general use. Then the numerals should be learnt, so that the verbs “to have " and “to be" may be practised in all the ..moods and tenses with a variety of words. It is a good practice, in walking along the streets, to try and name as many objects in view as possible—carts, horses, Soldiers, sailors, chim- neys, shops, etc. With regard to pronunciation, some general rules and indications will be given to enable the student to overcome the difficulties in his way ; –but where it is practicable, the verbs and vocabularies should be read over to the studebt three or four times by some one who speaks German correctly. For three of the sounds (the it, the 5, and the d) cannot be exactly given by any combination of English letters; and can only, therefore, be satisfactorily learned through the ear, by IMITATION, and fixed in the memory by constant repetition. The two main points are : firstly the pronun- ciation, and secondly the grammatical forms of nouns, adjectives, pronouns, and verbs, etc. To these two points we have therefore to direct our readers' attention at the outset ; and we would explain at once that this first course will be found to contain a very plain, simple series of studies, the object being to give the student so much knowledge of German as will enable him to read easy books, and to write easy sentences, and converse in ordinary, short phrases. In the second course we shall have to go over the same ground in a more detailed manner, with a view to higher instruction in German and a more extended knowledge. And first, with regard to the pronunciation, the English student will find far less difficulty in pronouncing the German language than the French. We have not in German the nasal sounds that an Englishman finds so hard to pronounce ; and a much closer idea can be given of the German pronunciation by means of English combinations of letters than of the |French. The German printed alphabet is almost identical, so far as the form of the letters is concerned, with the English black-letter character, which, slightly modified, has been modernised into what is called “German Text.” We first proceed to consider the German alphabet. 24 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. THE GERMAN ALPHABET AND ITS PRONUNCIATION. There are twenty-six letters in the German language. They are as follows:— German Corresponding Pronounced in Letter. English Letter. English. S} Ah Bay Tsay Day }* (in acorn) : ff : Gay Ha, tsay- , ch ha (ha in hard) E (in eel) Yot, | Kah,tsay- kah El Em En Oh Pay Roo Airr Ess, ess- ess (dou- S,f, ſſ, Sz, St & ble s). ess-tset, h !), d) ik, C k l 9 : @5 S ſ, 3, ſ, É, ſt : t; Ta y !'; (or wain) } Icks(asin Wicks) 9 y Ypsilon Tset, tay- 3, § Z, tz } tset. y Vowels are those letters that are pronounced with the mouth open. They are voice sounds, independent of the tongue and lips. A writer on the alphabet has said that the mewing of a cat represents ee-ay-ah-oh-ou, or the vowel sounds in their natural order, according to the mode of pronunciation; from ee with the mouth most, to oo with it least open. The consonants, on the other hand, represent stop- pages of the voice by means of the action of the throat, lips, teeth, or tongue, and are accordingly designated as gutturals or throat Sounds (k, c hard, q, g hard, h), labials or lip sounds (b, f, p, v, w), sibilants or hissing Sounds (8, sh, c soft, ch, g soft, j, z), and linguals or tongue sounds (d, t, th]. The simple vowels in German are, as in English – 2ſ a, G e, 3 i, o 0, 11 u, Q) p. 8, €, l, O, ll, y. Three of these vowels are modified or rendered Compound by the addition of an e, which is Sometimes represented by the sign “ over the letter...(Thus Goethe, the German poet, is also spelt Göthe, but cannot be written correctly, as given in some English works, Gočthe.) y: X W. This is in German called the limſaut (oom/-lout), Or Sound-change. º Compound or Modified Wonyels. Corresponding German English letters. letters. Pronounced in English 2[e à, Ae ae, like a in Mary. SDe 5, Oe oe, like oeh or the eu in the - French beurre, butter. lie it, Ue ue, like weh or the French w in 7?? 6727ſ. Diphthongs or Double Womels. 2ſu au, Au au, like on in on-l. § #. #. : {like $ in fine. ©u eu, Eu eu like oi in oil. º * § #. {like in fine. § §, 8. º, {like oi in oil. The slight differences in outward appearance between the following letters, which closely resemble each other, should be noted. In each case these differences consist only in a little sign: especially it should be remarked that the s (f) has the little horizontal projection only at the back, whereas the f (f) has it, across the letter, and chiefly in front. Q3 $8,-(§ (£,—9? Št,--S) SO, B W,-C E,-N R,-O Q, b (), f f, 9 9,-r r. b h;-S f,-v y, T x. THE GERMAN WRITING ALPHABET. In the German written character the small letters are generally pointed, and the capitals are more elaborate than in English. & al, -% 4 -Z 2, 2% ºf A 8, B b, C c, D d, £º zº, *Z ſ? 2.2 % / E €, F f, G. £, H h, 2 : 22. 2 / -2' 4 I i, J j, K k, L 1, %22, Ž2, ^2, Ży, M m, N Il, O O, P P, 22, 2’, 2 / 4 2 & Q q, R r, S S, T t y 2 %2. 22, £2, Y y, Že, Žze, .2° W v, ſºy. Z Z. W w, X X, PETYSICAL GEO GI24 PHY, It will be seen that one great difference be- tween English and German writing is, that in the latter the Small letters are generally pointed (the 2, 2*, *, etc.), and that in several of the small letters and nearly all the large ones the upstroke and downstroke are divided, zz instead of 62. instead of Ż 9 2. y instead of -/ etc. / The following are compound and modified letters:— & ºt, & 4, 24, 4% 2% Ae ae, Oe oe, Ue ue, St. St, &// -& 4 & 2% Sch sch, Ck ck, SS SS, Ž. 24. % SZ Sz. The following words should be written out for practice in the German character as a Writing lesson — gº e/ 2.22%22 24° 2% 4…” [Pronounced] mine ess doo BREN-72,672, [Meaning] my it thou to burn * e.” & ~zzº 42. ””” 42.2%, vite troy MAIRR-ken. TRY-ben. far faithful to remember (mark) to drive / 4.2% ~%.2%22 zoº.” %22z lout Q?"?”?)?, VIN-dem, zime loud poor to wind to be rººf 2.22% 42.2° -%22 o'oond zand bºite BLOO-meh round Sand broad flower py O2 el/ 2%z. */. %2. do?"rn. KEMP fen. too)'7"ºn, thorn to fight tower yº y”% 2%.4° 2% goot ge(h)NOOG das yahr good enough the year 2%r 2% 2%. 47%.<-CA-ZzZ. dare tish dare frosh, the table the frog se-º º * -º-º: -, * * * º “...º-º *...* ..s.º. &= ** - - - - - - - -º ~~ a. Sº sº; Nº Wºłº UE'ſ rºº Sºº º º º º A" [. aſſº - rºº Š - "a º º: KT. & ºº:: - § -ºº: ºr. 5-3 º INTRODUCTION. THE earliest students of Geography were the Greeks, and the name of the science is derived from two words of the Greek Origin of language-Yi. (the earth), and º, 'ypáqety (to write). In a future article we shall describe the historical pro- gress of geographical knowledge : at present it is unnecessary to say more than that the ac- quaintance with the shape, surface, and natural features of the earth possessed by the ablest Greek philosophers was extremely limited. One OT two of the clearest thinkers suggested— founding the suggestion on mathematical prin- ciples—that the earth was a globe; but the real bases of geographical Science—the Sphericity of the earth, its place in the solar system, its annual revolution round the Sun, the causes of varia- tion of surface and climate, the internal forces persistently in operation, the various stages through which its outer crust has passed, the relative proportions of land and water, Ocean currents, and other physical phenomena—have only been established in comparatively modern times by the arduous investigations of astro- nomers, mathematicians, geologists, chemists, and other students of the physical Sciences, and adventurous and scientific explorers. There are two distinct departments of geo- graphical science— Physical Geography and Political and Historical Geogra- Divisions: phy; the former dealing with the Physical and facts of nature, the latter with political the communities into which the geography. human inhabitants of the world are divided. Political Geography is to a considerable extent dependent on conditions imposed by the facts of Physical Geography, because climate, means of communication, and other material facts, affect the growth of communities and the es- tablishment of nations. The subject will be treated in detail in future sections. PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY includes— I. Mathematical Geography, which treats of the figure, magnitude, and density of the earth; its position in the planetary system, and the method of delineating the surface of the earth on artificial globes, maps, and charts, and of determining the position of any particu- lar place. (Considered as a planet and member of the solar system, the earth, and the pheno- mena of light and darkness, heat and cold, and the succession of the seasons, will be found described in the articles on ASTRONOMY.) II. A knomeledge of the material features of the earth's surface, and the physical forces mºhich have induced and are modifying it. This in- cludes the proportions of land and water, the formation of continents and islands, moun- tains, volcanic and glacial action; the extent, depth, currents, temperature, chemical compo- sition, tides, and evaporation of the ocean; river systems, with their watersheds and area *... 26 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. of drainage; geological features of the earth's surface (specifically treated in the series of articles on GEOLOGY); and climate, including zones, isothermal lines of average temperature and rainfall. III. The distribution of animal and vegetable life, and mineral products. POLITICAL and HISTORICAL GEOGRAPHY includes— I. The progressive distribution and settlement into communities of the human race. II. The moorld as politically divided into states and communities, including the areas, boundaries, inhabitants, forms of government, products, and commerce of these states. [This department of the subject is separately treated Čn a series of articles on the STATES AND GOVERNMENTS OF THE WORLD.] PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.—I. 1. Form, dimensions, and density of the earth. The earth is nearly spherical in form, but not exactly so, being slightly flattened at the poles, or points mark- ing the extre- rmities of its axis of rota- tion. Between these poles— known as the * orth a mid South poles— the diameter of the globe has been as- certained to be 7,898 Eng- lish statute miles, while the diameter at the equator, Or imaginary line round the centre,is 7,925 miles, or 27 miles more N In the accom- panying diagram, the letters N. and S. indicate the north and south poles; the dotted line, the axis of the earth's revolution; and the line traversing the diameter of the circle, the equator (from Lat. aquare, S to make equal). POLES, Axis of REvoluTION, The reason of the AND EQUATOR. variation from the true spherical form is that the velocity of the earth's daily rotation upon its axis being greatest at the equator, the consequent greater action there of the centrifugal force (the force that urges a revolving body to fly off in a straight line, but controlled by the opposite Or centripetal force, which attracts it to the centre, and so produces a curved motion), would produce a bulging out in the equatorial region and a flattening at the poles. The in- fluence of this force in determining the shape of the earth is probably now very slight, but was considerable in the early history of our planet; for, as an able writer remarks, “It may be taken as almost certain that the sphe- roidal figure of the earth has been attained in consequence of its having formerly been en- tirely fluid during its rotation on its axis,” and it is evident that the effect of centrifugal force would be far more apparent on a fluid or semi-fluid mass than on one of a denser and consequently more cohesive nature. (The phy- sical condition of the earth at various epochs will be described in the series of articles on GEOLOGY, but must be occasionally referred to under this heading for the purpose of illus- trating subjects connected with Effect of physical geography.) This ten- revolution on dency of a sphere when in a rapid a sphere, state of revo- lution to de- part from its Original form may be illus- trated by a very easy ex- pe Tim ent . Make a hollow globe of paper, or other light material, with a cane passed through it for an axis; then cause it to re- volve rapidly, and it will be seen that it becomes con- siderably flat- tened at the poles, and cor- respondingly enlarged in lateral circum- ference, as represented in the diagrams. The circumference of the earth at the equator being nearly 24,000 miles, and the revolution on its axis being completed in twenty-four hours, it follows that any given point on the equa- | :-º-º: &###$º s & *::::::::::s | *~ At rest. torial line is travelling at the rate of nearly 1,000 miles an hour — about twenty times as fast as a Swift express railway train. The effect of this velocity of revolution on the form of the earth may be readily imagined. Rapidly revolving. PHYSICAI, GEOGRAPHY. 27 Not only does the earth deviate from the form of a regular sphere by being flattened at the poles, as described above, but the equator The equator does not describe a perfect circle, * being slightly elliptical in shape; the longer diameter, between the west coast of Africa and a central spot in the Pacific Ocean, being nearly two miles longer than the dia- meter between the island of Sumatra in the Indian Ocean and Quito On the Western coast of South America. Although the form of the earth is now ac- cepted as one of the most certain facts which scientific investigation has estab- lished, it is remarkable that per- sistent efforts are still made, and supported by a great display of mathematical technicalities, to prove that it is a circular disc; and within the last few years elaborately illustrated books have been pro- duced in advocacy of the supposition. It will be well, therefore, for the student to remember the following incontrovertible facts : —The greatest expanse of horizon is presented to the eye by the ocean; and ships sailing away from the shore in any direction appear gradually to sink, the hulls disappearing first, then the rigging, and finally the topmost spars; the process being exactly reversed in the case of ships approaching the shore. This clearly proves the convex form of the surface of the sea, for if it were a plane the largest objects would be seen the longest. Far out at Sea, or in the centre of a very extensive plain on land, the horizon forms a well-defined circle around the observer; and as the same appearance may be witnessed, under similar circumstances of uninterrupted vision, from any part of the earth's surface, the inference that the earth is a sphere, or very nearly so, is inevitable. Again, the rotundity of the earth is proved by the very familiar fact that it can be circum- navigated, voyagers proceeding in the same general direction, east or west, returning to the point whence they started. A more striking proof, because it is demonstrated to the eye by nature itself, is that, in the case of an eclipse of the moon, the shadow of the earth thrown by the sun is always of a circular form ; and as the phenomenon of an eclipse does not occur at fixed periods, but when the positions are relatively different, the shadow would vary in shape from a circle to an oval, or even a straight line, according to the angle presented to the surface of the moon, were the earth a disc, or of any other form but that of a sphere, which only can, under any possible circumstances, cast a circular shadow. Further proof, if any were needed, is in the fact that the fixed stars visible in the northern regions gradually recede from the view of the voyager proceeding into equatorial regions, South of which he sees entirely different constellations. The spheroidal (nearly spherical), shape of the earth being established, the Proofs that the earth is a spheroid, . exact form and dimensions (as j given above)have been ascertained and density, by a long, Series of scientifically conducted observations, the most noteworthy of which are those with the pen- - dulum and the measurement of an are of the meridian. The nature and results of these observations may be briefly described. The pendulum is a weight suspended at the extremity of a rod or Pendulum string, and perfectly free to move *P* in any direction. As the weight, or bob, is really a falling body, restrained only by the rod or string to which it is attached, it has, of course, by the force of gravity, a tendency towards the centre of the earth. It has been ascertained by many observations that a pen- dulum makes about 240 vibrations more in a day when near the pole than when near the equator—the evident conclusion being that the force of gravity is less at the equator, where the surface is farther from the centre, than at the poles; the oblateness, or polar flattening of the earth being thus confirmed. This dimi- nution of the force of gravity in the equatorial regions is partially, but only slightly, due to centrifugal force. The measurement of an arc of the meridian is a far more elaborate process, which has been successfully achieved by many scientific observers. The meri. Measurement dian (Lat. meridies, midday) is º the name given by astronomers meridian, to “the great circle of the celestial sphere which passes through both poles of the heavens and also through the zenith and nadir of any place on the earth's surface.” To render this definition more intelligible to the student as yet unfamiliar with the technical phrase- ology of abstract science, it is necessary to explain first that the zenith is that point of the heavens immediately above the head of the observer, or immediately over any given point of the earth's surface; and the madir is the corresponding point indicated by an ima- gimary prolongation of a line from the zenith through the centre of the earth. A circle described from the zenith to the nadir, passing through the poles, forms a me- * * * ridian, and the corresponding Ameridian. circle on the surface of the earth is the meridian of geography. When the centre of the sun is on the meridian of any particular spot on the earth's surface, it is midday at all places under the same line on that side of the globe, and midnight at all corresponding places on the other side. (Farther on, when explaining the terms longitude and latitude, we shall have occasion to refer again to this part of the sub- ject.) A diagram will assist our explanation. Here the line A B represents the axis of the 28 THE UAVTVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR. earth's revolution ; C C a meridian, or line marking the circumference of the earth, passing through any given point, D, on the surface and the poles; E the zenith, or part of the heavens immediately over D, and F the nadir, or oppo- site point. An arc of the meridian is the curve between any two parts of the meridional line, and the form of the curve obviously indicates the size and configuration of the entire globe, because from any portion of a circle the size of the circle can be ascertained. Two stations on the same meridian any distance apart are selected, and the latitude of each position ascertained with the greatest precision ; then by trigonometrical calculation, by a method known as triangulation, the length of the arc of the meridian between the two points is ascertained. If the earth were a perfect sphere, and the meridian consequently a perfect circle, the degrees of latitude between the two points (the latitude having been most carefully settled by astronomical observation) would be identical in length with those included in any other arc of the meridian of equal length. But it has been discovered, as the result of many mea- surements conducted with the most scientific accuracy, that the arcs really differin length, and that the length of a degree of latitude—in other words, of an arc of the meridian—increases as the poles are approached, proving, in confirma- tion of the pendulum and other experiments, that the earth is not a perfect sphere, but that the curvature of the outline becomes less and less as it approaches the polar regions. Further on, we give the length of degrees of latitude at various parts of the earth's surface. *-*m-. º Özº 5.º. º§§§ e º ſº ñº §º §§ §: # - I. IN the memorable spelling lesson given by the Philosopher to M. Jourdain (Le Bourgeois Gen- tilhomme, Acte II. sc. vi.), Molière very divert- ingly ridicules, and seems to demolish for ever, the Schoolmen’s cumbersome methods of im- parting knowledge in general, and a knowledge of the alphabet in particular. During the late great war, when many cities of France were beleaguered, the inhabitants, to place them- Selves in communication with the outer world, were faim to use the primitive pigeon-post. Let the necessity of the case be the author's apology for his return, in these lessons on French Pro- nunciation, to the Philosopher's ancient and garrulous expositions. THE LETTERS. § 1. The French alphabet contains strictly twenty-five letters. These have an old and a modern appellation, the former of which alone is used outside the class-room ; to it the learner should confine his attention. The letters pre- sent themselves in the same order as in English. As n appears now and then in French works, it will be useful to incorporate it, thus raising the number of letters to twenty-six. Letters. Old mame. Sound. New name. Sound. a. * à ah . a ah b bé bay be be || C Cé say Ce SG d dé day de de e é 2, ee € f effe eff fe fe g gé zhay f ghe ghe h ache ash he he i i €62 i eG j ji zheet je zhe k ka kah ke ke l elle ell le le IOOl €rnme €I]]]]]. Ine In G Il €Il Q6. €10 Ol In G 1162 O Ö O Ó O p pé pay pe pe Q. ku ku i ke ke T elTe heir I’e Te S €SSG €SS Se Se t tº tay te te ll l! u Í l]. II. V. vé vay We Ve w$ doublevé doobl way X. ikse eeks kse kse y i grec ee grec i €6. Z zède zed Ze ZG § 2. Classification of Letters. The letters of the French alphabet do not always express the same sounds and articula- tions, nor do they represent them all. Accents placed on certain vowels partly overcome the former shortcoming, and combinations of letters make up for the paucity of phonetic signs. The French alphabet, like the English, though in a smaller degree, deserves the denunciation which the lexicographer Volney levelled at them both when he called them caricatures / The only practicable classification is the following:— * With the old appellation the letters, considered as common substantives, belong to the masculine gender, with the exception of f, h, l, m, m, r, s, which are femi- nine. When using the old name, say, therefore, &crire UNE ºffe, to write an f; and say €crire UN fe when using the new. f The d part of the English g and j must be care- flºoded in these consonants, which in French are simple. f “Can only be taught verbally,” say all compilers of grammars, and so say we. If you are in Scotland, listen to the newsboys crying “Illustrated News / ?? If you fail meeting a Frenchman, ask an educated Gor- mam to pronounce for you the word úber. If those Opportunities fail, attempt this: place the tip of the tongue to the base of the lower teeth, shape the lips as for whistling ; then, without forcing the voice or moving the Organs in the least, endeavour to say ee. You will almost obtain the sound. § With the exception of wallon, feminine wallonne, and a few words found in old French and not quoted by the Académie, w appears in no common nouns but in those imported from the English, such as warrant, whiq, whist, whiskey and tramway, which the French Student is taught to pronounce as in English ; whereas w in wallon and wagon º waggom) is pronounced like v. In common nouns borrowed from the German, w is not retained—e.g., vasistas (a practicable window- pame), from was ist das 2 vermouf (wormwood), from wermuth. In proper nouns w is pronounced according to the respective languages: for l'île de Wight say leel de Wight; for la ville de Worms say 7a veell de Vorms. | In the whole of this column pronounce the single e as w in stud, reducing the sound to a mere whisper. A.WCIEWI, HISTORY. 29 Worvel3. Simple.—A, 4–6, 6, 8, 6–7, 6–0, 6–7, 6–y. Compound.—A), ai, aft, au, ay—eau, &c, &M, 00, ey—ae, aw, ou, où. Masal.—Ain, aim, an, am, aon—ein, &n, em, eun—in, im—on, om—un, um—yn, ſm. Comsonants. Guttural.—g before a, o, u-6 before a, o, at- k—q—ch in certain cases. Dental.—d—t. Labial.—b—p—f. Semi-vomyels. –r – l —n—ll (mouillées, i.e. liquid), gn soft ; v, rv, j, g before e, i. Sibilant.—s—a:-t in certain cases—c before e, i—ch. Remark.-The compound vowels represent single sounds, and should therefore not be called diphthonſ/s, a term which, according to the best authorities, should only be applied to tºvo convel sounds pronounced in one effort of the voice. The two sounds cannot be produced simultaneously ; they come in succession, but so rapidly that they smoothly blend together. The diphthongs met with in French ar (1) Those formed by a simple vowel preceding a simple vowel:— Ža (also ya) . liard, farthing (liar); royal, regal (roi-ial). £e (also ye) . lumière, light (Wu-miè-re); bruyère, heather (bºw-iè-re). to (also yo) . fiole, vial (fio-le); il rayonne, it radiates (rai-ionme). oe . . . . moelle, marrow (moe-lle). oi (also oy) . emploi, use (em-ploi); employer, to use (em-ploi-ier). we . . . . usually given as a diphthong, is properly a double syllable. M. Littré pronounces, in prose as in verse : muet, mutuel, swer, twº, etc., mu-et, mw-tw-el, su-er, tw-6, etc. ... appui, support(ap-pui),appuy07, to support (ap-put-ie)"). (2) Those formed by a simple vowel before or after a compound vowel — iai (also yai) biais, slanting (biai) ; je m'ayat, I stroked (rai-iai). dau (also yaw) matériaua, materials (riant); moyau, fruit-stone (moi-iaw). dew (also yew) milieu, middle (mi-lieu); moyeu nave of a wheel (moi-iew). iou (also you) pioup iou, nickname given to the privates of the centre or 2nd batallion of a French line regiment (piou-piou); voyou, street arab (voi-iow). wi (also ty) oue . . . . fouet, whip (fouë); owest, West (ouest). owi . . . . fouine, pole-cat (foul-ne). (3) Those formed by a simple or compound vowel preceding a nasal sound — dan (also yan) dianfre, euphemism for diable (dian-tre); a yant, having ((A -ian). ten (also yen) bien, good (bien) ; moyen, means (moi-ien). Žon (also yom) espion, spy (es-pion); lay ()'a i-ion). coin, corner (coin). Saint-Oues, name of a town, marsouin, porpoise (mar-sowin) . Suint, greasiness (suin). 7'ayon, 0in . . . 0 ((???, , , ow?n . . . win . . . 3. BY GEORGE R. EMERSON. I. THE period included in the domain of Ancient History is generally understood to have termi- nated with the destruction of the Western Roman empire by the barbarians in the latter part of the fifth century. The annals of the succeeding ages belong to Mediaeval and Modern History, subjects of other articles. Ancient history, therefore, relates the stories, so far as they can be collected, of the great empires and states of remote antiquity— Babylonia, Assyria, Egypt, Media, Persia, and Judah; of the Greek kingdom and republics, and of the Roman empire, described, in no light figure of speech, as “the mistress of the world.” The early history of all the nations of anti- quity is obscured by a haze of legend and mythology ; isolated events are recorded on monuments and in- º: and scriptions, and in cases where the *ěy. records are more consecutive, the difficulties offered by strange alphabetical characters and the use of hieroglyphics are great. The student of history is embarrassed by finding records of dynasties extending over periods almost rival- ling geological epochs in extent, and which can only be explained by the supposition that the ancient inscribers had a different mode of reckoning time to that now adopted, or that many contemporaneous events were recorded as consecutive. Before the discovery of the art of writing, and indeed long afterwards, when to be able to read and write was the privilege of a small hieratic or priestly class, legend was the history of the many, legend which was regardless of dates or proba- bilities, which grew in dimensions as it passed from mouth to mouth through succes- sive ages, which united incongruous persons and the wildest narratives to the central figures of heroes chosen by the popular mind to embody the popular idea of the origin and early history of a nation. The mytho- logical tendency inseparable from a primitive condition of mankind intensifies the difficulty of obtaining clear views of events. Unusual and remarkable occurrences were attributed to direct supernatural influence; the pheno- mena of nature were supposed * to be produced by the direct Gods and demi- º * & tº gods, intervention of gods or demi- gods—the latter, earthly heroes who had been translated after death to another sphere, and invested with special attributes as the direct result of intercourse between divine personages and the human race. The un- cultivated mind was incapable of conceiving any idea of perfection, of greatness or happi- ness beyond its own experience; and the divinities of the primitive pantheon fought, loved, and banqueted, and were as ferocious and sensual as the strong men whose force of 30 THE UWI VERSAL, IWSTÉ UCTOR, character made them petty kings in the early times. The gods and goddesses were only more powerful or more beautiful men and women; and, by a natural and easy transition, the warrior whose prowess was most renowned, the ruler whose natural sagacity was greatest, and the queen whose charms were most admired, were added to the list of potent divinities. Supernatural beings were supposed to inter- fere continually in the affairs of daily life; to animate the winds and waves, the woods and fountains; to influence birth, marriage, and death; to be capable of propitiation by offerings, to be susceptible to praise and flattery. To gods and demi-gods were attri- buted the building of cities, the foundation of states. The men whose vigour of character and superior Sagacity had made them the natural leaders of warlike hordes or simpler pastoral people, were soon invested with supernatural attributes; and history possessing no authentic record of their lives and actions, they speedily passed into the domain of legend and myth. The in- ability of the uncul- tured mind to con- ceive abstract ideas led to the imperson- ation of mental and moral qualities; the very words express- ing them were trans- formed into proper names; and the his- torical student of monuments and le- gendary narratives is confronted with a host of personages who had never more than a shadowy ex- istence, as unreal as the spirits who were supposed to dwell in trees or to be em- bodied in the little from the hillsides. The legendary and mythical histories of all the great empires of antiquity begin with the direct intervention of the more powerful divinities, or with the reign of demigod heroes. There is no authentic material for the historian to work with in constructing a history of the early nations of the world—the Hebrew Scrip- tures excepted—of an older date than about the middle of the third millennial period before the Christian era; then Assyria, Babylon, and Egypt begin to emerge from the region of myth and legend, but only emerge by the aid of the enterprise and unwearying activity of the modern spirit of investigation, which discovers monuments and inscribed records buried under the accumulations of thousands of years, and by their aid tests the accuracy of long-accepted narratives. Astronomical science, by affording the means of calculating the time When certain phenomena, such as eclipses or streams which flowed The Heroío Ages. ISGYPTIAN DEITYES. the appearance of comets, occurred, referred to in traditions, gives a key to chronology; and the scientific systematic study of the affinities of language throws a flood of light on the his- tory of race and nation. Gradually the histories of the old world are being divested of the myths and legends, which have clung around them, ... . . and it is possible to constructºristºriº bases a narrative fragmentary, it is "f* true, but still authentic so far as it goes—of the leading events connected with the rise and fall of the ancient empires. To do so is the laborious but repaying work of the modern historian. As the archaeologist examines the fallen remains, the shattered fragments of a temple or palace of antiquity, and is able from that which is left to conjecture the nature of what is missing, and so ascertain, by a knowledge of the essential principles of archi- tecture, with an almost certainty of general accuracy, the form and dimensions of the antique struc- ture, so the histori- cal inquirer finds, by an investigation and comparison of monu- ments and inscrip- tions, by the aid of comparative philo- logy, and a careful estimate of the value of geographical, cli- matic, and other considerations, the means of divesting the facts of ancient history of the clus- tered legends and myths which distort their form and per- vert their signifi- C2.Il CG. There is another and a smaller class of historical critics— chiefly among German scholars—who, starting from the accepted position we have referred to, that in the early ages **yths. there was a tendency to personify, not only abstract ideas, but physical phenomena, have concluded that that tendency was universal; that the old legends of heroes are exclusively figurative ; that, for example, the appearance, full development of power, and glorious death of a great warrior or ruler, as mythically related, was only an endeavour to symbolize the rising and the setting of the sun; that, because the same daily course of nature was personified in Greek poetry, the personification was therefore general in primitive times, and that Abraham, for example, was as entirely a “solar myth.” as Aurora. To reason in this manner is to exclude all fair corroborative evidence derived from other Sources than tradition. The more unprejudiced historian carefully examines, and decides after a full survey of all attainable materials for arriving at a clear judgment. If, after such a study, many prominent figures A WOZEWT HISTORY. 31 disappear from the Scene, many events change their actual or relative dimensions or import- ance, others will be more firmly established as absolute persons and undoubted facts. Historical criticism, besides investigating and sometimes destroying the old legends, is in many cases compelled to repudiate as actually false or partially untrustworthy the popular narratives which for centuries have been re- garded as veritable history. Some Greek and Roman historians readily ac- cepted poems transmitted from One generation to another of ignorant men, and legends also orally trans- mitted, and growing and changing as they passed from mouth to mouth, as genuine bases on which to rear historical fabrics; and more modern writers, previous to the rise of what may be described as critical historians, repeated and enlarged with additions derived from other sources, and frequently of equally little value, the narratives they found ready to their hand. It is not too much to say that the topographical researches and discoveries of Poems and Legends, inscriptions. To each of these subjects it will be well to give some special attention. Whatever scepticalor “destructive” criticism may effect, it remains an incontrovertible fact that the Old Testament contains the oldest literary productions in †. the world. The Homeric poems, by * whomsoever written, are by all the best critics assigned to a date subsequent to the reign of Solomon, and therefore five or six hundred years after the composition of the Pentateuch. The earliest Greek historians, Herodotus and Thucydides, wrote three or four centuries after- wards, and were contemporaries of Ezra and Nehemiah, the latest of the Old Testament historians. There is in these early Biblical re- cords a coherence of narrative, a copiousness of detail, a geographical accuracy, and an accord- ance with information obtained from other sources, that impress the candid student with a confidence in their general trustworthiness, even if the chronological critics have not agreed as to the precise dates when certain events took place. But any difficulties of that kind which Fº Layard, may be esta- a wlin son - - blished and and Smith º tº sº sº. I. INTRODUCTORY. IN introducing the reader to this series of easy lessons in the Latin language—by means of which we trust he will learn that language more quickly, easily and thoroughly than by any other method, even without the help of a master (though such help is always desirable, even with the advantage of the best books to guide)—we must first point out the advantages to be derived from a study of Latin, as well as the very best way the student can profit by these lessons, with a word or two concerning the character and the career of that famous ancient people the Romans, who spoke and wrote the Latin language. In the first place, it is impossible to under- stand thoroughly our own English language without a considerable knowledge of Latin, which enters so very largely into it by way of composition and derivation. Now, the Latin words which have come into the English up of affe", language as compounds of Latin words, or as derived from Latin with a slight alteration of form, differ very materially from the Saxon or native element of our language in this—that they do not explaim themselves, as Saxon compounds or Saxon derived words do, at first sight, but they need explanation, and for this reason may be easily misunderstood and mis- applied by those who are ignorant of Latin. A very large number of English words com- pounded and derived from the Latin, which are often like one another in appearance and Sound but very unlike in meaning, will not merely puzzle, but even materially mislead ; whereas a knowledge of the Latin language from which they come, and the meaning of which they carry with them, will supply the meaning of the root word, and of the various prepositions or particles embodied in the compound or derived word, and so will give the key to unlock what would, or rather what must, be otherwise a closed door to one of the richest treasuries of our own mother-tongue. Let us give a few simple examples of this. The word culture comes to us from the Latin cultura, tilling or cultivation ; and we have it in many words as a suffix of the compound—as in agriculture, horticulture, pisciculture. The first of these words, is made the Latin for a field, and cultura, Latin for cultivation ; the second is made up of hortus, the Latin word for a garden, and cultura, Latin for cultivation; and “pisciculture * is made up of piscis, Latin for a fish, and cultura, cultivation. Take again the Latin root flect, to bend, which we find in the English words reflection, inflect tion, deflection. Here reflection is literally “back-bending,” the Latin preposition are meaning “back”; inflection is “on-bending,” the preposition in meaning “on”; and deflection is “down-bending,” the preposition de meaning “down.” Then in genufleaſion we have a compound made up of the Latin genu, the knee, and flecto, to bend; and in the English infleasible we have another Latin compound, made up of in, not, and flecto, to bend : according to the general rule—which we hope will always be remembered—that when the Latin in Occurs in an English compounded adjeetive it means “not,” being almost always negative, as in such words as infleasible, impos- sible, insincere, intangible, invisible, invul- nerable ; but when it occurs in a compound English verb or noun, in generally means “in” or “upon,” as impress and impression, a pressure made upon (from Latin in, upon, and prºmo, to press), induct and induction, from im, into, and duco, to lead. So you will see by the last example, and the rule we give, how useful a knowledge of Latin is to prevent mis- takes in the use of English words derived from the Latin. In the study of English grammar, and of grammar generally, you will find Latin of inestimable service in understanding the tech- nicalities of grammar, as most of the technical terms are derived from Latin. Let us give Some instances of this. The words rule, term, definite, plural, singular, noun, article, I, A TTW, 33 \ pronoun, verb, participle, number, person, are all of Latin origin. “Rule” is from the Latin regula; “article " from the Latin articulus, a little joint ; “term” from the Latin terminus, a boundary ; * definite ” from the Latin definere, to bind off; “plural” from the Latin plures, more; “participle '' from the Latin participare, to partake of (as the parti- ciple shares the nature of a verb and an adjec- tive); “number” from the Latin numerus, num- ber; “singular” from the Latin singuli, each one; “noun” from momen, a name ; “pronoun” from pro nomine, for a noun; “verb” from ver- bum, a word, for the verb is the chief word in a sentence, as you cannot make a sentence without a verb, though you can make one without any other part of speech. We must also add that a large proportion of our law terms come from Latin, such as magistrate, Senate, decree, etc., as the Romans were the greatest of ancient legislators. To show something of the large pro- portion of the Latin element in our language, we shall quote from Cowper, whose vocabulary is much less Latinized than Milton's and many other poets. These lines seem at first all Saxon, “When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there, But, alas, recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.” But even here the words “native,” “moment,” “recollection,” “my,” “in,” “I,” “me,” and “despair,” are all of Latin Origin. In Milton, line after line might be quoted filled with scarcely anything but words of classical, and especially Latin origin—such as “somorous Sound ’’ and “martial music.” Our next reason for advising the study of Latin is this : it is not only, as we have shown, a key to Our Own language, but it is a key—rather the key—to most modern Continental languages, especially those of Latin origin, such as the Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese, which are more or less so many corrupt dialects of the old classical tongue of Imperial Rome, who carried her language into almost all the countries she conquered by her arms and governed so long by her laws. Now, a sound and diligent Latin scholar will easily acquire a competent know- ledge of the Continental languages, because he will find in them so striking a similarity to the Latin. Take, for example, such words for the English “man” as the French homme and the Italian uomo, and mark how like each is to the Latin word homo, from which it has been derived. Then we want you to notice that the gramma- tical precision and regularity of Latin is the best possible training to make a good grammarian, —for Latin is, above and beyond all other languages, the most inflexible and mechanical in its laws and rules, and is on this account the best adapted to teach the general laws of grammar, and to illustrate and enforce the principles of philology on which all grammatical laws are built. The faultless correctness of Latin grammatical structure makes it the best of all educational instruments for purposes of gram- matical instruction. In this Latin stands alone, and for this the Romans were styled a nation WOL. I. of grammarians. Even the greatest of Roman statesmen and warriors took a delight in ana- lysing the grammatical structure of a sentence and fixing the spelling of a word. A knowledge of scientific grammar was coeval with the very birth of Roman literature ; and hence it was that the art of composition, as well as its science, went hand in hand from the very first. Further, we may add that the study of Latin is a most effectual method of mental discipline, to say nothing for the present of the magnificent literature of which it is the key—the orations of Cicero, the poetry of Virgil and Horace, and the histories of Livy and Tacitus. It does not take away time from other studies, as it virtually multiplies time by increasing the intellectual capacity for work. A student whose wits are made keen and incisive by learning Latin will not only do twice as much intellectual work in half the time as a student whose knowledge is exclusively limited to English, but he will do it more intelligently, and with a better chance of retaining it in his memory and applying it more effectually to practical purposes of life. And lastly, we are sure you cannot take any more effectual course of cultivating a good English style than by exercising yourself in the habit of translating into worthy English the masterpieces of the most elegant and perfect Latin authors, such as Cicero, and by translating English into Latin, when you will be obliged to analyse carefully every sentence, weigh every word and phrase, put them into their right places and their right forms, and consider their effect upon each other by collo- cation. If the perfection of style is, as it has been well defined, “the right word in the right place,” there is nothing can teach it so effectually as the proper study of Latin. It is not at all, therefore, a matter of surprise that the two greatest masters of English style were both great classical scholars, John Milton, whose prose is as marvellously beautiful and powerful as his poetry; and De Quincey, whose prose has never been surpassed for its majestic rhythm, its perfect grace and polish, as well as its somorous eloquence, The Latin language was the language of Latium, of which Rome was the chief city; and it formed a branch of the old Italic language, which was made up of various dialects, such as the Oscan, Umbrian, and others. According to Mommsem, our best au- thority, the Italic race was not the aboriginal Tace of Italy, but a conquering, immigrant Aryan race, of a far higher civilization and of a far more martial character, whose chief seat of of power was in Latium, a sort of county, as we should topographically speak, of which Rome was the capital; hence we have the term Latin as applied to their language, and Romans as applied to the people. By conquest the Latin speech was extended over the whole of Italy, and in dialectic forms to adjacent countries. Before, however, entering upon the lessons which are now before you, we must ask you very carefully to follow the directions we are now going to give for your special advantage, 3 34 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. based as they are upon many years' successful . experience as a public and private teacher of the classical languages. In the first place, never begin a subsequent lesson until you have thoroughly mastered the lesson before it; make the ground firm and the way clear as you go on, and this you will best do by reading aloud and committing to memory, as well as writing out from memory, comparing what you have Written with our lesson, and by answering in detail the questions for self-examination which we shall give at the end of each lesson. Secondly, when you have carefully gone through one special and distinct division, such as the verb, or noun, or adjective, go over it all again before entering upon a new division ; this will enable you not only to retain better what you have learned, but will give you additional power to extend your conquest afterwards. We shall begin our question method at Once, by asking you to apply it to this introduction and to answer the following questions on paper after a careful study of this introductory chapter. Self-Earamination Questions. What is the object of these lessons? Men- tion in detail the several distinct advantages to be gained by a study of Latin. Explain the origin of the term “Latin " as applied to the language of the Romans, and also the origin of the term “Romans.” To what race did the old Latins belong, and what was their character 7 How was the Latin language spread 7 Show that in studying grammar a knowledge of Latin is doubly useful. Give instances of compound and derived words in English which can be only understood properly and fully by means of a knowledge of Latim. What are the two senses of the Latin word in in composition with English words 7 Illustrate this by examples. Of what use is a knowledge of Latin in studying French, Italian, or Spanish 7 Illustrate this by an example. Is a knowledge of Latin of any use in culti- wating a good English style 7 Show this, and mention any great writers of English prose who were eminently distinguished as classical scholars. . Mention any lamy terms or gram- matical terms we get from the Latin. What do you know of the value of Latin literature ? Mention some of the greatest writers. Write out our two rules for profiting by these lessons in Latin. }: º HISTORY º &== MoD:RN TIMES, §: § ſº ºvºz' s - . Pºś 㺠ºº::=º II. AMONG the events of the fifteenth century which prepared the stage of the world for the ... ... great drama to be enacted in the ... history of modern times, must 15th oentury. next be noticed the important maritime discoveries. Throughout the whole century exploration by sea was steadily pursued. The two nations to whom is due the credit of being pioneers in the task of enlarging the limits of the world are the Portuguese and the Spaniards. The former pursued their discoveries towards the east, along the African coast ; the latter bore away across the Atlantic towards the west. Prince Henry, called “the Sailor” (d. 1460), caused expeditions to be fitted out for the exploration of the great Atlantic Ocean; and among the results of Portuguese enterprise during this century were the successive discoveries of the island of Madeira, the Canary Islands, and the Azores,-then of Cape Bojador, Cape Palmas,and Cape Verde on the African coast. Still pursuing the course through the great South Atlantic, the bold navigator Bartholomew Diaz at length reached the Stormy Cape (the Cabo Tormentoso), whose name, now that the southern point of the great continent had at length been reached, and there was a prospect of ... ... getting to India at last, was ap-Maritimºroute propriately changed to the Cape to India, of Good Hope. This was in 1486; and twelve years later, in 1498, the efforts of the Portuguese in the fifteenth century appropriately closed with the landing of Vasco de Gama at Calicut, on the Malabar coast of India, and the solution of the great problem of the maritime route to the east. Thus— “Commerce on other shores displayed her sail,” and the monopoly of trade to the East, hitherto enjoyed by the Italian republics. was broken up. Spain came later into the field. Her power and influence had been greatly increased by the union of Aragon and Castile through the marriage of Ferdi- F jºin. nand and Isabella. But those * sovereigns were engaged in put- ting an end to the empire of the Moors in the South ; and it was not until New Year's Day of 1492 that they made their triumphal entry into Granada, expelling thence the weak Boab- dil “el Chico” (the child), the slothful prince whom his stern mother scornfully bade “weep like a woman over what he could not defend like a man.” But when the cessation of the war left Isabella at leisure to listen to the earnest appeal of Christopher Columbus, the memorable expedition of three ships (two of them being mere half-decked caravels or coast- ers) sailed from the haven of Palos; and on the 12th of October in the same year that great dis- coverer cast anchor on the coast of the island of Guanahani, or, as he called it, San Salvador. His second voyage (1493) completed the discovery of the greater West ºurmbus and India Islands; and on his third his voyages, (1498) he landed on the continent of the New World, not far from the mouth of the Orinoko. But the honour of giving his name to the New World was unjustly awarded, not to the Real discoverer, but to the first describer of the con- tinent, Amerigo Vespucci, whose voyage with Hojeda, one of the former companions of Columbus, took place in 1499, the year after that of Columbus, but was represented in the Latin work written by a German geographer HISTORY OF MODER W TIMES. 35 as having been undertaken in 1497, the year before that of the admiral. The testimony of Hojeda himself, who, examined as a witness in a law-suit, deposed to having made the voyage in 1499, and to having found traces of the Admiral, is conclusive on the question. Among the events that prepared the way for the new era was the revival of learning, which was going on throughout all the latter half of the fifteenth cen- tury. The fall of Constantinople in 1453 put an end to the Byzantine empire; and the Turks took possession of the one city of Europe where the ancient classical learning still survived. Driven from the Byzantine capi- tal, the learned men—Chrysoloras, Georgius of Trebizond, Laskaris, and others—carried away The revival of learning, carefully scraped, and the artificial surface was removed, there appeared underneath a classic work, quite unintelligible to the good fathers, who had utilized the volume perhaps as an account-book. Such volumes with a double surface were called palimpsests. The Italian republics were then at the height of their prosperity and grandeur; and thus Italy became especially the land where the revived learning of ancient times found encour- agement and appreciation. The grand family of the Medici in Florence, and pre-eminently the Duke Lorenzo, aptly surnamed “the Magnificent,” patronized and fostered classical learning, Science and art in Italy. The Aldine editions of the Greek The Italian patrons of learning : the Medici, with them c 1 as si c's, the learning afterwards of the an- famous as cient world, specimens of which had typography, been hon- issued from oured and ====# the print- cultivated at ===#. ing-office Constanti- of Aldus nople, while Manutius, Europe was in Venice; sunk in in- the learned tellectual Laurentius barb arism Walla wrote and sloth. against the Italy was §§§º errors of the the country ºś º; # #. #jiāºš Scholastics, where the §. §º § jº) and pro- monuments § { §§ šti iſºl ducedacom- of the great- ######: =. ####| mentary on ness of the the Holy a n ti que Scriptures; w O r 1 d O t h e r s roused the q u ic k l y enthusiasm joined him ; of princes and soon the and people controversy for the trea- sures of classic a l learning. The scholas- ticism of the middle ages —the dry logic and dogmas, taught in exe- crable Latin—now became the laughing-stock of the new generation of students, men who upheld the “humanities,” and who saw in the wealth of philosophy and Progress and literature bequeathed by the an- **PP* tique world to posterity the means of escaping from the intellectual fetters im- posed on knowledge by ecclesiastical tyranny. The old convents were accordingly ransacked for the manuscripts of classical authors copied by the industry of the monks in past centuries; and many a literary treasure was thus brought to light. Not unfrequently the parchment leaves of an old volume had been covered with a preparation of white paint, and the surface thus obtained being written over, the old iron- clasped book had been used for the purposes of the convent; when, however, the leaves were CONSTANTINOPLE FROM THE BOSPHORUS, between the men of the middle ages and the men of the new ideas — the Humanists and the Obscurants—was fiercely carried on. Many new universities were also established in continental Europe, especially in Germany—at Cologne, Leipsic, Tübingen, Marburg, Rostock, and many other places. The interchange of ideas between the members of these learned institutions became lively and constant; and thus a new intellectual activity was diffused throughout all Europe. Among a number of great names connected with the stirring up of the human mind in those wonderful days of prepara- tion, that of the learned Erasmus #. of of Rotterdam stands honourably otterdam, forth. Erasmus (b. 1467, d. 1536),—“that great honoured name, the glory of the priest- hood and the shame,”—was a citizen of the world, a travelled man, gladly received at many European courts, the friend in England of 36 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. the great Sir Thomas More—who himself, by his Utopia, or the Happy Republic, contri- buted not a little to the dissemination of the new and enlarged ideas of the time. Erasmus especially recommended the study of the Greek and the Hebrew. He prepared an edi- tion of the New Testament in the Original Greek; and for a series of years published a number of pamphlets and treatises, in which the ignorance and errors of monachism and of the Scholastics are exposed with unmerciful and biting scorn. His Praise of Folly, a satire of this kind, is especially famous. Two other names— those of Reuchlin (b. 1455, d. 1522), and Ulrich von Hutten (b. 1488, d. 1528)—are scarcely less famous than that of Erasmus himself in the celebrated contest between ignorance and pro- gress. Indeed, though far less learned than Erasmus, Reuchlin and Hutten were much more in earnest ; for the great scholar of Rotterdam was somewhat of a man of the world, and paused half way in his career, even writing against the bold, fearless proceedings of Luther, and indirectly condemming the Reformation he had done so much to further ; whereas Reuchlin and Hutten fought the Obscurists tooth and nail. The discovery, at Amalfi, of the Pandects, or collection of ancient statutes made by Order of the Emperor Justinian, helped The Pandºots forward a better appreciation of discovered the principles of Civil law. In other directions the progress was equally re- markable. The end of the fifteenth century witnessed the birth of many great artists, sculptors, and architects. The wealth of the Italian cities was lavishly spent in furthering the glories of art. As GOLDSMITH well ex- presses it, in his Thraveller,- “For wealth was theirs, nor far removed the date, When Commerce proudly flourished through the At i.&mmand the palace learned to rise; Again the long-fallen column sought the skies; The canvas glowed, beyond e'en Nature warm.” Magnificent and art-loving popes, like Leo X. and Julius II., patronized great painters, Sculp- tors, and architects. Raphael Age ºf Heºk Sanzio (b. 1483, d. 1520), who S *...*., brought the Roman school of culpture, and * * * e sº * Ajitecture, painting to its highest perfection; Michael Angelo Buonarotti, the giant of art (b. 1474, d. 1563), whose name will be always associated with the architec- tural glories of St. Peter's at Rome, and the frescoes representing the Creation in the Six- time Chapel; and Titian (b. 1477, d. 1576), the head of the Venetian school, contributed to the glories of this period. The age in which feudal and ecclesiastical tyranny had borne unrestricted sway over the bodies and souls of men—the age of contented ignorance and gross Superstition—had passed away. Human society was awakening to a new life. The striving after knowledge and truth was taking a definite direction, and the means had been obtained by which it could be realized. Like a giant in its strength, the new era came forth to do battle with error and with wrong. The masses were no longer held in degrading mental Servitude,-for they had found an intel- ligible Voice wherewith to utter their com- | late the tone of the singing voice. plaints and make known their aspirations, They were no longer like “An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.” -º- -º sº §g 㺠C. wº-º Sº, 㺠§§§ E= +ºğE:#; t. III. THE VOICE AS AN INSTRUMENT. UNTIL a recent period, voice-trainers relied solely upon empiricism for their practice. Their ears told them when the . . is g tone emitted by their pupils' Voice training. Voices was good, and the distinction between the Various registers or qualities in the same Voice was equally a matter of observation. They knew little or nothing of the structure of the apparatus of the voice, and could not say why or wherefore in the rules they gave and the methods they enforced. Moreover, know. ing so little of the delicate formation of the Vocal Organs, they were led to encourage singers to strain them beyond their proper strength—an act which ended in speedy ex. haustion, and in a gradual deterioration of the Voice. It may be said at once that the voice is never injured by moderate and controlled use. On the contrary, like all physical organs, such use is of benefit to it. Even young children may be taught to sing with advantage, provided that excess be avoided. Their Organs are pliant and flexible, and they will be better singers in after years if they learn early to shape and modu: ºdºate exertion, But shouting is, of course, more injurious to children than to adults, and the voice that has been made rough and ragged by over-exertion in childhood Seldom regains its smoothness and rotundity. The objection which some people have to singing in chorus arises from the pre- valent habits of choirs... If the voice be gently used, chorus singing will do it no harm, but if the singer shouts so as to be heard above his fellows, as So many do, of course the harm is considerable. Those who wish to cultivate and strengthen their voices should sing much and often; and chorus singing affords most valuable practice, which those who are wise will not lose. Voice-training naturally divides itself into three departments, chest, larynx, and mouth; in other words, the control of the breath, the proper use of the º registers, and the production of WISIOIl, good tone. The apparatus of breathing is a wind-chest, having at the back the backbone, at the sides and in front the ribs and breastbone, and at ... the bottom a muscular floor ***ing called the diaphragm. This dia. * phragm is a membrane which Stretches across the body, separating it into two MUSIC. 37 == ~ * * parts, with the heart and lungs above and the stomach and bowels below. The lungs, which fill the greater part of this wind-chest, are like two great sponges, full of cells containing air. The windpipe, which comes down from the throat, has a number of branches—the bron- chial tubes—which run into these elastic sponges, the lungs. We need not describe the muscles which are needed for the act of breathing, but the singer should remember that such muscles exist, and that they require exercise. In men the lower ribs and diaphragm move chiefly in the act of breathing, but women make more use of the upper ribs. Were this not the case, it would be impossible for women wearing tight dresses to sing as they do ; for clothing, unless it be the loosest, impedes the muscular action. It is said that a man who can inspire 130 cubic inches of air when dressed in ordinary clothing will inspire 190 when divested of clothing. The amount of muscular action which suffices for speaking is not enough for singing. The singer has longer tones to sustain, and must breathe deeper than the speaker. Fortu- nately the lungs are expansive. A pair of lungs which, when filled with the ordinary effort, hold 230 cubic inches of air, can be made to hold, by means of a deep inspiration, 330; that is, nearly half as much air again. The singer has also to learn to economise breath—to hold it in and spend it gradually. The nose should be used for drawing in breath rather than the mouth. At first let each prac- tice be prefaced by muscular exercises in hold- ing and slowly emitting breath, ** so as to increase the capacity and * restraining power of the lungs. Let the student try to hold on a single tone as long as he can, stopping at the point just short of exhaustion, so as not quite to empty the lungs. The instrument of voice which we all have in our throats is called the larynx. Every one can feel the lump in the throat, which is larger in men than in women and children. It stands on the wind- pipe, and in ordinary breathing the air passes up and down through it freely. But when the voice is to be produced, either in speaking or singing, it is nearly closed by two elastic cushions with sharp edges, which are called, Tather inappropriately, the “vocal cords.” These rise into the open space, one from each side, and so nearly join their edges together that only a thin slit is left, through which the air from the lungs passes. There is only one way in which Sound of any sort or kind can be produced, and that is by vibrations imparted to the air. The vibrations which produce the voice take place through the air from the lungs being forced past the elastic edges of the vocal cords. They are first driven upwards, and then their elasticity causes them to rebound, whereupon they are driven upwards again—all this taking place with infinite rapidity, so that the successive puffs of air link themselves into a musical note. The production of sound will be more fully explaimed in a subsequent chapter ; meanwhile we can only say that the The larynx, pitch of a sound produced from the vocal cords is according to (a) the ... thickness ; (b) the tension; Pitch of sound, (c) the length of the vocal cords. To understand these vocal cords, let us look down upon them from above. The invention of the laryngoscope of Signor Manuel The Garcia enables us to do this. The laryngoscope, laryngoscope (larynx-Seer) is a simple mirror, which has a handle, and resembles a spoon. It is placed right at the back of the mouth, over the throat. Besides this there is a reflector, which a person operating upon himself holds in front of his mouth and within view of his eyes. On the first mirror is shown the inside of the throat ; the second receives a reflection of the first, and thus the whole machinery of the larynx is exposed to view. The operation is more difficult than it seems; for it is not easy to adjust the mir- rors and keep them in place while sing- ing, and the wide-open mouth that is neces- sary takes all plea- santness from the tone. First, we may look down and see the glottis, or slit ſº t # #AA’, sº y sººty 2 OPEN FOR BREATHING, between the cords, open as in breathing. The voice is now silent. Second, we Different may see the lips or vocal cords registers, vibrating in their whole breadth and thickness, and producing what some voice - trainers (but not all) call the “chest register,” but what we propose to oall the “thick regis- ter,” because it is pro- duced by the whole thickness of the cord vibrating. The reader will hardly need to be told that THE WHOLE LIPS WIBRATIN G, the voice never originates either in the “chest" or the “head,” as the nomenclature of some writers and voice-trainers would lead us to Suppose. It has its origin always in the vocal cords in the wind- pipe. Third, we may see the thin edges of the vocal t cords vibrating alone, and pro- ducing what is sometimes called the “falsetto " Or “throat” register, but which we shall call the “thin regis- ter,” because of its being produced by the thin edges of the vocal cords. By means of the laryngoscope, the naked eye may clearly see the fluttering of the vocal cords in the thick register, but in the thin register the vibrations are too rapid to be seen. The cords appear to stand close together. THE THIN RDGES VIIBRATIN G. 38 THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR. ºùº sº ºx-s: bºrº º sº-º-º-º-º- *** †º §º ºº::= ºS º º E--- £33 §§§ Fºr; º §§ §§ſº wº § wº 2 ºr * “º - º ſº Nº. sº : w º º II. OBSERVATIONS ON THE PRONUNCIATION OF PARTICULAR LETTERS. The Promunciation of the Womwels, AN 5 after a vowel makes the vowel long— thus $)?offm, poppy (pronounced moan), šešler, fault (pronounced FAIL'-len”). The letter q is always pronounced as in the English word father—that is to say, always ah. and never ay; though, like the rest of the vowels, it is short before a double consonant. The German e at the end of a word, unac- cented, is like the e in the English word rive)', The long e is like the English a in ray; the short One like the e in met. The long t is pronounced like ee in feel—thus the name Idaisin German pronounced EE'-dah; the short i is like the English i in inn. An e inserted after an i makes it long—as bienen, to serve, pronounced DEE'-men. The long 0 and the short o are pronounced respectively as in the English words over and gone. - The long it is like oo in the English food, the short like oo in hood. The letters et in the same syllable are pro- nounced like the i in dime. Remarks on Consonants and Single Compounds." The German t is more strongly accented than the English o', except when it begins a word; thus arm (poor) would be pronounced a/?"?????, b at the end of a word is something like the English t ; at the beginning or in the middle, like the English d. The short 3 is used only at the end of a word or a syllable, and is hard like in the English gas. The long ſ and the capital (25 are soft, like in the English as. b at the end of a word has a sound some- what like p, just as d in the same position approaches to t, but they are not identical with p and t. f) in the middle or at the end of a syllable or word is silent ; but makes the vowel preceding it long. t) is therefore like t only, as in the English Thomas (which is why Germans say tiss and tat or dat for this and that, pi) is like f, as in the English Philip. d) (ch) is very important, as the sound is not exactly found in English. It is in German treated as a single consonant; at the begin- ning of a word, or before an s (in the same Syllable), it is pronounced like the ch in the English character. In other positions it is pronounced just as an Irishman would sound the ch in exclaiming “Ooh, your honour,” or Crying och-home—or as a North Briton would Speak of the clachan (not olacKan) of Aber- foyle. The ch should be particularly noted; for that and the 5 and it are the only German letters not represented in English, g in the middle or at the end of a word is pronounced like a softened d). 3 is pronounced like ts. # is used instead of 33 and is pronounced like the single letter. § is used instead of f at the end of a word or a syllable, and is pronounced like Ss. ſd) in German corresponds to sh in English, and is pronounced like Sh. ng is always pronounced as one sound, as in Singer—not separately, as in finger. In writing German, all nouns and words used as nouns are begun with a capital letter. The accent is generally on the radical syllable, the one which expresses the original idea of the word. For instance, in the English word “overthrowing,” thron) is the radical syl- lable. In words of two syllables the accent is generally on the first. In dividing words into syllables, where there is a double consonant after a vowel the two letters belong to different syllables—as femamen, moiſ-ſen, to know. A single consonant is taken on to the syllable that follows it—as beaten (bay'-tun), to pray. READING LESSON.—WORDS TO BE PRONOUNCED. (These words should be learnt by heart as a vocabulary for future use.) Øqā Şauá, ber 30ttlit, bie S)?attá, bet &taunt, das House dare Bowm' dee Mouse dare Tronºm” The house the tree the mouse the dream eim $nd), eine Söeere, ber 300em, baé 3ieſ), eyn Booch"eyne Bear'-e' dareBoh'-den das Fee a book a berry the ground the cattle bie Ščieſe, bie Ščetſe, ber §eſ;, ber $2tit, dee Vee-ze dee Wy'-ze dare Pºltz dare Vine the meadow the manner the fur the wine §tem, ber §aiſer, ber ºaſe, bie Šâuſer, poſſ, Veen dare Ky’-zer dare kay-Se dee Hoiſ-zer foll Vienna the emperor the cheese the houses full boſſen, mein, bein, ſein, baá šenſter, ber 3ad), vo!'-len mime dine zi-ne das Fen-ster dare Back to will my thy his (its) the window the brook bag ºmie," bie Sueſſe, ber ©trom, bie ºutter, das knee dee Quel'-le dare Strohm dee Mut'-ter" the knee the spring the stream the mother * The ow to be pronounced as in cow. * The ow as in row, meaning noise. 4 * Wherever the ch occurs, remember to pronounce it like the Irish och, or the Scottish loch,-NOT With the k Sound, Ock. e “Wherever the final e occurs, pronounce it as you would in an English word ending in er, Supposing the r not to be soundled—thus fender, oùicer, porter, pro- nounced fende(r), offic-e(r), port-e(r), would give the exact sound. It is not the a Sound. g * * The k is pronounced before the m, as in the English name IBrecknock. - * The mut in mutter like the put in the Word putting; hot like in the English verb to mutter. 6 ERM.A.N. 39 bie & dºmeſter, ber $8tuber, baá 3rob, bie dee Schwes'-ter dare Broo'-der das Broht dee the sister the brother the bread the 9tuff, muff, bientent, bte 98teme, šträßen, näßert, Muss' muss deemen dee Bee-ne Kray-en nay-en nut must to serve the bee to crow to sew bie Stabeſ, bie Šēodje, baá Šafft, maſt, frei, dee Wa-del” dee Wo-che das yaar vaar fry the needle the week the year true free fattfen, greifen ber Sofen, ber 3iſt), baá com':fen gry’-fen dare Oh'-fen dare Tish das to buy to grasp the oven (stove) the table the $)?eſſer, bte (jabeſ, bag pelt, bag (ºtroff, baá Mes'-ser dee Ga'-bel das Hoi das Stro das knife the fork the hay the straw the (śrać, bie SBirne, bie &irſtje, ber ºf au, Grass, dee Beer'-me dee Keen'-she dare Pfon, grass the pear the cherry the peacock bač Šltºn, ber $65m, bie Semme, ber $ogeſ, das Hoon dare Haan dee Hen-ne dare Foh-gel the fowl the cock the hen the bird baá Štimb, ber (Śnfeſ, ber 9teffe, bie Staſe, das kinºnd dare En’-kel dare Wef'-fe die Maa’-ze” the child the grandson the nephew the nose ber ºutb, ber §inger, ber pſab, bie dare Moond dare Fing'-er dare Plats dee the mouth the finger the place the §ſiege, bte 98tege, bie Šarbe, bač $od), body, Flee'-ge dee Wee'-ge dee Far'-be das Loch doch fly the cradle the colour the hole but moſſ), Jºittipod), baá 3ium,”3ießen, §eigen, noch Mitt'-voch, das Tsinn tsee'-en tsy'-gen yet (still) Wednesday the tin to pull to shew bie 3affſ, Šáffſen, 3ittern, Weltte. dee tsaal tsay'-len tsit'-term hoi'-te the number to count to tremble to-day It must be remembered also that the accent in dissyllabic words, in trisyllables, etc., is on the radical syllable—the one which gives the nature of the word, and not the inflection or termination. Thus, Söte'zme, 3ieſ)'-en. PUNCTUATION, The chief marks of punctuation in the Ger- man language are the same as in English, namely:- º [,] bač (Somtita, the comma. com/-ma. [;] ber ©trijpurift, or bač Šenticoſon, the semi- strichſ-poonkt say'-mee-co'lon [colon. stroke-point [;] ber 3)0ppeſpunft, or bqā Qoſon, the colon. dop'-pel-poonkt double-point ” The tº in Nusz and Musz as in the English puss. * Remember the German a is always pronounced ah, as in the English father; but sometimes it is long and Sometimes short. * The single 8 pronounced like z. * The z pronounced like ts. [...] ber ºutft, the period, or full stop, dare poonkt [?] baá štage;eijen, the note of interrogation, fra'-ge-tsey'-chen question-sign [l] baá 2ſu 3 r u fun gé; eiden, the note of on'ss'-700-foongs-tsei'-chen [exclamation, out-calling sign (jebanfenſtrid), the dash, ge-dank'-en-strich' thought-stroke The u in punft is pronounced like oo in the word “poor.” ON GENDER, NUMBER AND CASE IN GERMAN. There are three genders of words in the German language, themasculine, the feminiae, and the neuter. Unlike English, all inanimate things do not belong to the neuter, or all living things to the masculine and feminine gender. Thus “gar- den” is masculine, ber (350tten (Garr'-tem); “the wall” is feminine, bte 9)?quer (Morv'-err, pro- nounced like floner); “the grass” is neuter, baá (jrag. There are certain rules for ascertaining the genders of words, which will be given in due course. There are, as in English, two numbers—the singular and the plural. CASE, from the Latin cado, to fall, may be defined as the rank which certain words occupy in the sentence—in fact, the position in which they occur, or the place into which they fall. In English we recognise the nomi- native or governing case, which comes before the verb, governs it, and answers to the question who? or what?—the possessive, with the sign of or the s with the apostrophe, denoting posses- sion, and answering to the question whose?— and the objective, following the verb, governed by it, and answering to the question whom 7 or what 7 asked with the verb. Nominative [—] bet Possessive Objective brought the boy’s hat. Who brought?—I (nominative). Brought whom or what? Hat (objective), Whose hat?—The boy's (possessive). In German we recognise four cases:—I. The nominative, identical with the subjective case. II. The genitive, answering to the possessive. III. Dative, or giving case, known by the sign To, expressed or understood : I give HIM (to him) a book, Šd) gebe tºut ein Söltd (Ich gay'-be eem eyn booch), iſ mt is here the dative. IV. The accusative, answering to the objective; ein Söud), is the accusative in the foregoing sen- tence, Verbs govern different cases, or have different cases after them—that is to say, the word which follows the verb occupies a different position according to the nature of the verb. We call those verbs transitive (from trans, across, and ire, to go) where the action goes directly across to an object—when we can ask, What person 7 or what thing 7 with the verb, Thus, to beat, ſti)[agen (pronounced Sklah'-gen), to see, ſcient (zay'-en), to find, finben, are transitive verbs ; for we can beat, see, or in' a person or a thing. Therefore we say that 40 THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTRUCTOR. transitive verbs govern the accusative case. Example, the old German proverb- ($ in guter Qſmöoff fürd tet ben âne (as in pine) goo'-terr Am/boss fürcht-et dane A good anvil fears the $5ammter midt, Ham' merr nicht (the as in pill). hammer not. On the other hand, a verb like gleiden (glych'-en, the y long as in cry), to resemble, to be like, governs the dative ; for if we say— The father resembles the SOn @er §ater gſeiðt bent ºpine dare Wah/terr glycht dame zoh'-ne(r)— it means, The father is like unto his son; and therefore gleijen is followed by the dative case, DECLENSION. The meaning of the word, “to decline” is to bend downwards, to be depressed, either morally or physically: thus we have physically the declination of the earth—the bending down or depression of the north pole from the point perpendicular to the earth's orbit ; and morally the “Decline of the Roman Empire,” as told by Gibbon—the history of the depression or bend- ing down of the mighty mistress of the world from her former grandeur. In grammar, accordingly, declension is the bending down of a word from the nominative or independent, through various stages, to the accusative or suffering case. In old grammars the cases were thus shown : The nominative, called the Rectus casus, or upright case, was represented by a perpendicular line, to indicate its indepen- dence,—it stands by itself; the genitive, from gigmo, to beget, & had a sloping line; the dative, Ö oº: the giving case, declined or bent _y> down more than the genitive; * Acc. and the accusative, objective, or suffering case, was the horizon- tal line, expressing dependence, in contrast to the upright nominative. The Latin has two more cases; the vocative (from voco, I call), in which a person or thing is addressed—“Come, O Lord,” Veni, Domine; and the ablative, known by the signs from, by, with, etc., signifying a taking away, and therefore in a certain sense the opposite of the dative or giving case. There are no vocative and ablative case in German, because the person or thing addressed is always put in the nominative (not like the Latin Dominus, a lord, Domine, O Lord), and for the ablative, the dative case is used in German. Thus in the sentences— (£r gab iſnt ein 3itſ), he gave (to) him a Air, gahb eem ine Booch [book, (Śr majm iſjnt ein Söud), he took (from) * . OOK, the tºut, the dative case, expresses both to him and from him, according to the sense. As in English, the s is the characteristic letter of the possessive case—“the captain's Sword” being nothing more than a shortening of “the captaines sword,” so in German the s Or es has the same meaning, - Øeå Öquiptmann'3 (Hauptmannes) @djiberbt. Dess Horvpt'-mann's Shºwairt. BY A. E. SPENCER, I. INTRODUCTION. IN introducing the subject of Chemistry there can be no necessity, in the present day, for insisting on the importance of a Science asso- ciated with almost every branch of industry and manufacture. Each fresh discovery in chemistry, independ- * of ently of its intrinsic value as an “ emistry, addition to our store of knowledge to be gar- nered for the benefit of future generations, may prove of immediate practical utility. Looked at, however, apart from its utilitarian aspect, it may safely be asserted that no science opens a wider or more deeply interesting field of research, treating as it does of the infinite combinations of matter in the A wide field of physical universe. It tells us *..." how, out of a few materials, are g built up all the varied structures of the organic and inorganic worlds. Chemistry re- veals to us the fact that we live in the midst of a vast laboratory, in which changes are per- etually in progress—in which * fººd, * continually being whº resolved into their constituent º elements, which in their turn are destined to unite with other bodies to form fresh combina- tions; nor are these changes confined to the so-called organic world. It is not under the influence of vital energy alone that the material elements are compelled to combine, in Order that they may be assimilated by and incorpo- rated with the living tissue of the animal or the plant, but we find that constant chemical action is, in like manner, going on in the air we breathe and in the earth we tread on. It would be vain to attempt to enumerate the various branches of industry with which chemistry is at the present time more or less intimately associated. Of its connection with the healing art we need not speak: & this has been recognized from 9hemiº and the earliest times; but the agri- medicine, culturist, the wine-grower, and the brewer, not less than those engaged in the various indus- tries of dyeing, paper-making, º g glass-blowing and staining, in ſº inºrial cluding even the painter and the * architect, are under many and deep obligations to the chemist ; while metallurgy and mine- ralogy may obviously be regarded as branches of chemistry. Independently of the inward Satisfaction ever to be derived from an ex- tended knowledge of Nature's ways and means of accomplishing her ends in that universe in which we all live and move, and of which we are a portion, it is Scarcely possible, in the present day, for a young man to pursue a course of chemical study and research without Change a law of nature, CHEMISTRY. 41 the prospect of deriving Some practical benefit Practical from it. , Whatever his career in . life, the knowledge thus gained ' cannot fail to prove a most valu- able acquisition ; while now, more than at any former period, numerous and lucrative appoint- ments lie open to the practical chemist. Matter tº º Of º * prin- g tº, Clples reveale chemistry is indestructible, i. intº Of º Change, continual change, is shown to be the law of the universe ; destruction, in the sense of annihilation, is impossible. The coal we throw on the fire, the oil we consume in the lamp, or the food assimilated in maintaining the processes of vitality, are but so many ex- amples of chemical action. The coal, the oil, the food disap- pear indeed as such, but only, in obedience to the laws of che- mical action, to be again mani- fested in a dif- ferent form, and exhibiting at- tributes utterly dissimilar to those they ori- ginally possess- ed. These sub- Sta. In Ce S a Te broken up into their constitu- ent elements, which in their turn are recom- bined with others to form a series of new com p ou n d S. Another truth which confronts us on the very threshold Of chemistry is the fact already hinted at, that the infinite variety of sub- stances constituting the world of matter are built up out of a comparatively speaking small number of materials. It is true the number of the so-called elements which have *lement few been discovered up to the present in number time amounts to between sixty and seventy; and fresh research will doubtless add to this series; but many of these are of such rare occurrence, and exist in such minute quan- tities, that we are justified in asserting that matter, in the great majority of the forms under which it pre- sents itself to our senses, consists of but few elements. The term “element” is applied to those bodies which have hitherto resisted every attempt to resolve N***n them into anything simpler— * which cannot,” like those sub- stances we term compound, be broken up into Comparatively few elements, SNOW CIRYSTALS, their constituents, and which are therefore regarded as finite or ultimate forms of matter. Whether we are in truth justified in regarding the whole of the elementary bodies as being of this character may indeed be doubted. The increased power of analysis which the disco- very of current or voltaic electricity many years ago placed at our disposal, revealed the fact that some substances which had hitherto been regarded as ele- The expecta- ments were in reality compounds, tions of future and fresh research may add to * their number. All we can Say is, that up to the present time, the whole of the metals, the gases known as hydrogen and oxygen, the substances called sulphur, carbon and iodine, and many others, have resisted all our efforts to resolve them into anything simpler, and are therefore looked upon as ele- ments. The tendency which One ele- ment has to unite with an- other is termed affinity ; of the laws which govern affinity we are, how- ever, still pro- foundly igno- rant. We know, indeed, that Some one par- ticular element has a strong tendency to unite with some other element, and that is all we can say. Of its cause, like that of many of Nature's operations, we shall possibly for ever remain * *- ignorant. The compounds resulting from such g combinations not only differ en- º tirely in their characteristics from * ty, those of the elements before they entered into combination; but two bodies may contain ab- solutely the same elements, and yet exhibit essentially different attributes. Take the ex- ample of three of the elements ºp. which enters more ories. Results ºf largely into every article we use chemical cul $5 cº º Combination, as food, the other being one of the constituents of water forms a portion of all our drinks; while the third is free in the atmosphere—is, indeed, the life-giving portion of the air we breathe. When combined, how- ever, in certain definite proportions, these three elements constitute one of the deadliest poisons known, Or, to take another illustra- tion, let us select the elementary gas we have 42 THE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. just spoken of — oxygen, the most universal of all the elements. This gas forms, with another gas called nitrogen, the air we breathe —not, indeed, in a state of chemical combination, & but merely mechanical mixture. *::::::::: The latter gas is, in a chemical ** sense, singuiarly inert and want. ing in character. It is, as far as we can judge, utterly without taste or smell, and serves to dilute the vital oxygen, which, if breathed unmixed, would be far too stimulating and exciting; while every spark that fell for a mo- ment on an inflammable substance would kindle a conflagration in an atmosphere of pure oxy- gen. These two gases, which we breathe con- stantly, and by which we are always surrounded, form, when in a state of chemical combination, a series of powerful acids, one of which is the well-known aqua-fortis of the jeweller. We have already pointed out that the ele- ments exhibit dif- ferent degrees of of effecting analy. time been regarded as simple or elementary. By means of the galvanic battery we can split up water into its two constituent gases—oxy- gen and hydrogen ; and it can be made to perform the opposite or synthetical process of determining the recombination of these elements to form water. In vain do we bring these two gases into contact with one another, even in the exact proportion in which we know they unite to form this liquid; they refuse to unite ; but the appli- cation of a light to a mixture of the gases, or the passage through them of an electric spark, at once effects their transformation into water. The influence of diffused daylight, & * without the aid of either combus.ºhemicalaction. tion or electricity, is, in other cases, sufficient to effect chemical union ; while some elements possess so strong an affinity for one another, that they need but to be brought into contact for them to com- ||||}|†† #| bine instantane- tº be applied from affinity for one ºff - ously and with another. This lºſſº apparent... eager- nº. be very ſºº Hess. We may sºng ºpa” º here, take the ºak..º. ºººººº. º ...º nº altogether want: ºf *} º º º ::ſ | . remarking that iº ºff. Alsº ſº even if no heat f Fºl ºf |||||| x \| one of its con- #iº. | #######jll.i. *1 ſºmºlº | ||||| | . of heat, which is - - *: | SiS is to bring 8, º " * * : * > * |||||"; § all eXtraneous compound into º m ſ ºlº ºf sº, chemical contact with some º ºft|† # union never takes element for which tºº ºf §º | \|sr|..}}| place without it is known that º * Iſāº ºft|*|†º l ºlºgº ºn; stituents has a stronger affinity than it has for the One with Hº which it is bound up. Even then, . - p ºš | ( ; , ; however, the fift||| º | chemist has gene- º İğ|| to his aid some form of natural force or energy. With a single stroke of a match upon a piece of sand-paper we are able to summon to our aid a genius ****more potent than any that obeyed posing bodies, i. lamp or ring in Eastern fable. Heat, which we can thus evoke in a moment at will, is, in truth, a most powerful magician. Matter, at its Protean touch, can be made to assume the infinite variety of form and condi- tion under which it presents itself. Heat has Uses of heat justly been termed the “great *** worker of the universe.” To the chemist its aid is invaluable—indeed, we may say that his art would be impossible without it; and from time immemorial the labour of the chemist has been associated with the lamp, the Crucible, and the furnace. Another powerful • A i agent in promoting chemical ac- Electrical . is º and the dis- action, : ~ : 1 – -ſ; covery of current electricity forms an era in the history of chemistry. By its aid Sir H. Davy was able to demonstrate the dual nature of the alkaline bodies that had up to his i. t; ſºs iº º ---. i; ; ; |\ } #|| TEIE GENERATION OF OXY GEN. proportionate to the rapidity or § energy with º : - which one ele- ºft||| º Y. |M||M|| Fº | |||||||||||||||||ſi. Well known ex- ample of water and quicklime may be instanced - in illustration of this result of chemical action. The elements all combine more or less readily With oxygen, with the single exception of fluorine, of which no known compound with this gas exists. It is possible, however, that One may yet be dis- Covered. The various degrees of affinity ex- isting among the ele- ments is well illustra- ted in the case of the 4 º' % metals and oxygen. §§ { N § Some of these bodies Šs Nº §§ unite emergetically ºf . e e Sº, § $ with this gas when- §§º S ever they have an §§º Opportunity of doing SIR HUMPHREY DAvX, SO. Metals of this class are never met with in nature, pure or native. Others exhibit but a feeble degree of affinity for oxygen, and can only be made to unite with it by indirect means, ENG LISH GRAMMAR. 43 I. INTRODUCTION.—continued. 5. Organs of speech diversities of language. 6. Living and dead language. 7. Definition of grammar. 8. 9. 1 i “ Universal ’’ and “particularl” grammar. Grammar an ancient and a wide science. 0. “Descriptive ’’ and “historical ?” grammar. § 5. Speech grew up out of the necessity for communicating our thoughts. We are provided with most wonderful and delicate bodily organs for this purpose; they give us variety of sound and voice, not only in each individual, but in the members of the family, of the nation, of the race. The language of every race has grown up conformably to the physical struc- ture of its organs of speech ; and the infinite variety of the development of these organs in mankind, bounded in each race by certain physiological laws, has given rise to the diver- sities of language. For example, men in different countries have experienced the same wants and the same relationships of life, and have given utterance to them in words; on the comparison of kindred languages, it is found that a given class of Sounds in one would be expressed by the same class of sounds in another, but altered in degree : this occurs so regularly and so often between some tongues as to show that a common Original impulse gave birth to the one class of sound, but that there are peculiar differences (pro- bably in the organs of speech) which have caused each tongue to adopt a different degree of that sound. Thus, d, t, and th are all dental letters—i.e. letters for sounds formed against the teeth; but the German says “tochter’’ for the English “daughter,” “tag” for “day,” “du” for “thou,” and “denken” for “think.” The study of the structure of the throat, the Imouth, and the other means of Speech, and of how in the course of ages they may have been affected by climate, country, or growth, belongs to the domain of the physiologist. In Our study of language we have to remember that it is like one of the natural sciences, and should be treated as part of the natural history of our bodies; that it has its periods of growth or change, like every other creation in nature; and that it works within definite yet elastic conditions. § 6. A living language is one that is still spoken; changes are continually taking place in it, and the written language has to keep pace with them. A dead language is one that has ceased to be spoken, as Latin and Greek—in which, therefore, new changes cannot be made. They are preserved for us in their written form, and their written grammar is reduced to a definite system, § 7. Gramma)", therefore, treats of ºvo'ds, and of the laws ovhich govern them. “The essential and fundamental subject of the gram- marian is speech, and this we have in all lan- guages, whether they be written or unwritten.” (Dr. Latham.) But there is no lawgiver in grammar. There have been great grammarians, but these did not invent grammar. The grammarian simply observes and records what he finds, and deduces laws from the facts. He works pre- cisely as the geologist or botanist does: just as the botanist observes the plants in the fields and woods, and, from what he sees, lays down laws or rules for the science of botany and the study of plants, so it is with grammar. “There is,” says Professor Morley, “no instance of a grammarian having invented a law and imposed it on a language. There is no despotism in grammar; we find a logical reason and use for each word in the language, but changes take place constantly.” Grammarians do not arbi- trarily take a number of dry, lifeless rules, and say, “You must speak and write thus: no other way will be correct,”—rather they point out the customs which common consent has agreed to, and has fixed by long usage, and they find out the reasons for the customs. The body of customs and reasons so taken down forms what is commonly called grammar. In this way we can see that in every language there is a grammar—a law of Words; and in the case of the unwritten tongues of South Africa, and elsewhere it was that the grammarian exercised his art upon virgin Soil ; the stranger came and wrote down in Order, for the first time, the custom of the wild speech. $ 8. Grammar may be universal or particular; Some parts are common to all languages, and afford means of comparison between them; other parts are peculiar to the several tongues, agreeing with the turn of genius of each nation. For instance, all languages have nowns and verbs—that is, words which are the names of objects and of actions; these are in the groundwork of every speech, and they (or their translated form) can be understood by all. The study of these common forms is Universal Grammar. But the arrangement of the order of words differs; each tongue may have a use of words in their relation to one another peculiar to itself—an idiom of its own. For example, the Englishman will say, a large horse, a tall man, a good boy, putting the adjec- tive before the noun ; the Spanish and the Italian put the adjective after the noun: the syntactical rules of the tongues differ. Again, each nation has turns of expression of its own. The Frenchman says, Je viens d'arrive?' (liter- ally, I come from to arrive) for I have just arrived, il vous en veut (he to you of it wishes) for he is angry with you. We English also often give a fresh twist and meaning to words by putting them in a relation differing from that which they originally bear—as, I cannot HELP doing it (i.e. I cannot stop myself from doing it), where help gives us a very different idea from the same word in We mill HELP Thomas, or, She gave him great HELP. A knowledge of the special rules and uses of each tongue is essential to the particular grammal of each, 44 THE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. § 9. It has been endeavoured above to show what grammar really comprehends, because the term is a wide one, and is employed somewhat vaguely in modern works. It was one of the learned studies among ancient civilized na- tions; it was one of the branches of learning which King Alfred caused to be revived in England, where, down to the Elizabethan period, it ranked as one of the seven liberal sciences or arts to be cultivated at our univer- sities. The very name of the “grammar ” Schools, established so largely in this country in the sixteenth century, shows the importance that was attached to the subject in some form, though it is to be feared that the teaching in these schools gave very little attention to English grammar in particular, but was more concerned with Latin and Greek. The reason of this probably was that Englishmen, at home in their own speech, felt, as Sir Philip Sidney said in 1595, that English “wanteth grammer. Nay truly, it hath that prayse, that it wanteth not grammer; for grammer it might have, but it needes it not, being so easie of itselfe, and SO voyd of those cumbersome differences of cases, genders, moodes, and tenses.” However, not many years after this, Ben Jonson (the poet and dramatist) wrote an English grammar, one of the earliest works of the kind, in which he lays it down that “Grammar is the art of true and well speaking a language; the writing is but an accident” (see next chapter, § 16). This definition agrees with that arrived at before in § 7 Sidney employed the term grammar in the narrower technical sense of accidence—that is, the system of shapes that the words of one language take under different circumstances. A writer of the present day whose works enjoy a high degree of esteem—Alexander Bain—in his Higher English Grammar (1872), makes use of the expression, “the grammar of our language is exclusively Saxon,”—here he also must intend the same narrower sense. But bis book, though curiously enough it does not contain a definition or explanation of the word, includes under the title “English grammar ’’ much more than this ; it not only treats of the alphabet, etymology and syntax, but gives chapters on “purity" and “punctuation,” which, properly speaking, do not belong to grammar, but rather to composition. Again, Dr. Latham tells us that “the essential parts of grammar are etymology and syntax : Or- thography and prosody are also parts of gram- mar, but they are not essential parts,”—thus disagreeing in principle with Ben Jonson, that “Prosodie and orthography are not parts of grammar, but [are] diffus'd like the blood and spirits through the whole.” The truth is, that the term is elastic enough to cover all that treats of the laws and of the use of the tongue, in prose or in poetry, spoken or written. § 10. There are two ways of studying En- * Observe here the subtle use of the word wanteth, wants, in its double sense; the first case signifying lacketh, is without, the second needs, desires ; so, “Eng: lish is without grammar, nay, it needs not grammar.” The first was the meaning most in use in the day of Sidney and Shakespere; the second is the one werlow most frequently understand by the word. glish grammar, both of which must be pursued for the intelligent understanding of the tongue: 1. Descriptive grammar ; 2. Historical and comparative grammar. 1. Descriptive grammar treats of the classi- fication, the forms and the relations of words as we find them now in every-day use. It states present facts. 2. Historical and comparative grammar goes back to the beginnings of the language ; it endeavours to trace out the history of words in their earliest simple forms, their growth, and their change ; by means of comparison with other languages it accounts for these ; it gives life and interest to descriptive grammar by showing the reasons for many of the facts we find there. For example, in the phrase a man's hand, descriptive grammar teaches us that man's is a noun in the possessive case, showing that the hand belongs to the man. Historical gram- mal teaches that the ' (apostrophe) in man's stands for an ancient e, the form of the word for the possessive case in the old language having been mannes; that in course of time the weak e has dropped out of use, it being easier to pronounce the word as one syllable, and the meaning of the apostrophe has been then for- gotten. English grammar is like the English consti- tution: as we cannot rightly understand Our laws and institutions without going back into the past and knowing something of the story of their birth and their growth, and of the principles upon which they were founded, just so it is with our language, we must know something of it in the past the more fully and wisely to deal with it in the present. In the following pages full attention will be devoted to the Descriptive part, so as to give the working facts of present speech. To this will be joined so much of the Iſistoric side as will, it is hoped, give the student greater plea- sure in his study and a broader view of the principles on which it is based. ANY wº º º ºfºº º º, sº º ºf Y. C º ſ § º Ç ºšV-Jº º º §: & ºt ſº II. FLOWERs, SEEDs, AND GERMINATION. WERE it not for the power of self-renewal on the part of plants, the earth would soon be- come empty and void. The ability Self-renewal, to reproduce, and the phenomena of reproduction, are thus of the first importance in the philosophy of Botany, and it is upon considerations connected with these that the first great step is made in regard both to the structure and the classi- fication of plants. It has already been stated that the world contains certainly not fewer than a hundred JROTAAWY. 45 thousand different species of flowering plants. The proof of this is furnished by the great Herbarium at Kew, which contains specimens of nearly the whole, and drawings of such as do not allow of artificial preservation. The popular idea of a flowering plant is of one that bears some kind of bright and conspicuous blossom, or if in some cases insignificant, as happens with mignonette, then sweet-scented. Hence it is that when any particular member of a group of plants happens to be more showy than its allies, it receives the popular epithet of “flowering,” as “flowering currant,” “flower- ing ash.” But in Botany, the appellation of “flower" is by no means so restricted. It denotes the reproductive apparatus of a plant, True idea of a flower, } a “flower,” accordingly, as of something after the fashion of a rose or a camellia, must give way to the conception of it as an organization, often utterly unpretentious, and resolving into two simple constituent factors, called Stamen and Pistil. Though there be no more than a solitary stamen and a solitary pistil, containing a solitary seed, without an atom of coloured petal, as happens in that curious aquatic plant the Marestail, still it counts as a flower. Now we see how it is that our grand forest trees, the oak, the beech, the ash, flowerless though they seem compared with roses, all nevertheless take their place in the ranks of the flowering plants, how it comes also that every grass, and rush, and wayside weed, is likewise a flower- ing plant. The universal and characteristic fea- FIG. 5,-TRANSFORMATION OF PETALS INTO STAMENS IN W HITE WATER LII, Y. º a" § \\ iš § § Ş. # º -- | & §§ §NY Fºll; º FIG. 6. FIG, 7. FIG, 8. *16. 9. FIG. 10. PISTILS OF WIOLET. PISTIL OF TETRADYNAMO US DIAD ELP II O US POLY A.D.ELPHIOUS STAMENS. PRIMROSE, STANIENS, STAMENS. however minute and unattractive, requiring only that it shall consist of particular organs. The flowers of the great majority of the hun- dred thousand have very little to recommend them to the gardener who is bent upon the Ornamental. Lovely indeed are the plants accustomed to be grown in gardens, and many of those which occur wild in England. But the former are the select few ; and the charm of a floral spectacle, as produced by the hand of nature in England, comes less of diversity of kind than of the exquisite blend- ing of a comparatively small number of har- monious forms and colours, with now and then a grand sheet of a single kind, as when a meadow is golden with cowslips or when a mere is decked with water-lilies. The idea of ture of the hundred thousand is, them, that they possess Stamens and Pistils. The extremes, as to dimensions of blossom, are seen in the float- ing green spangles which constitute the lemma or duckweed of the standing pool, and, on the other hand, in a superb tree such as the mag- molia or the horse-chestnut. The result of the action of the stamens and pistils is a seed, capable of giving rise to a plant similar in all respects to the parent, and which is itself organized in a particular man- ner, consisting of an embryo, which is the rudiment of the future plant, and usually of auxiliary parts called the cotyledoms. Nothing , is easier or more interesting to watch than the germination of a seed, and the purpose and re- lation of its constituent parts. Take a few peas 46 THE UNIVERSAL INSTF2UCTOR, w —w or scarlet beams, such as are used for sowing in the kitchen garden, soak them in warm water for a few hours, then lay them between two folds of flannel, in a warm place, keeping the flammel constantly Saturated, and in a very few days they will sprout. If then exposed to the air and light, still kept warm and moist, the little plants will grow rapidly. The two large plano-convex halves of the seed are the cotyledons ; the hinge-like body which unites them is the embryo. The lower extremity of the embryo elongates into a “radicle,” or in- cipient root ; the upper extremity becomes a “plumule,” and is the beginning of the stem. These two portions always lengthen themselves in QOntrary direc- tions, the plumule seeking the sun- shime, the radicle plunging into the soil in search of moisture. The cotyledons them- | º selves are charged W/? With nutrient : matter called “albumen.” This supplies the em- bryo with food, and usually in º \ N \ time, w he n emptied, they dis- ſº appear, though \\ there are plenty of examples in which they re- & s s Ş-- - º &< S -S S§ §$ & & s s*. -NSw§ y *s § &wx ; 4.x N SS- $w i-* | “Monocotyledones,” otherwisecalled Endogens. No one can call himself a botanist who has not carefully made some such experiment as that with peas and beams above described, , and noticed for himself exactly how Seeds begin to l'OW. g While stamens and pistils and seeds, formed in the way mentioned, are universal in the hundred thousand flowering plants; in the other great sec- tion of the vegetable kingdom, comprising ferms, mosses, Seaweeds, etc., the idea which these parts express is set forth In a manner SO different, that in the aggregate they are conve- niently distin- gu i s h e d a S F 1 O we r l e s S Plants. Organs analogous to sta- mens and pistils, and very curi- ously presignify- ing them, are dis- coverable with the assistance of a good microscope; or if the organs Flowerless plants, Spores, themselves can- not be isolated, Structures and processes can be distinguished which declare their principle to be at work. But even in the most highly developed main, grow large º |ft ,condition they and succulent, º: sº & {j} are still no more and continue in §§ |º than prefigurative their place for ºğ | of genuine sta- indefinite periods. NSA's Hilsº §§§ WS : mens and pistils. When, as in the ºl. #ſº \\? #. Hence the ex- pea and beam, \\ sº \\ pressive names, the cotyledons ### \; º º —s ‘antheridia, ' and remain below the ſºft sº 'ſ $ºs ‘pistillidia’—lit- surface of the Nº. £º §sº erally organs like ground, they are ſº º N **, stamens, and like called “hypo- (R|N&A KW \\ \\\\ pistils. The pro- gaeal;” when they \\\\\\, ', duce, again, is rise above it, as in lupines and cucumbers, they are “epigaeal.” In the seeds of very many plants the cotyledons are extremely small, and the albumen provided for the nutrition of the embryo lies loose within the skin. This is very well seen in buckwheat. In the great class of flowering plants to which the corn-plants belong, there is only one cotyledon, and here, in germination, the uprise is vertical, whereas in the lupine, cucumber, etc., the cotyle- dons assume a horizontal direction. Upon the great differences in seed-structure just indi- cated are founded the names of the two leading divisions of flowering-plants—namely, “Dico- tyledones,” otherwise called Exogens; and 11. FIGH, very different from genuine see d. Usually each little particle is inexpressibly minute. The seeds of Orchids, (the smallest produced by any flowering plant) are so exquisitely fine as to fall from the pod like dust ; but the seeds of the flowerless plants are impalpable powder. There is no reason to believe that these infini- tesimal atoms contain a distinct embryo and cotyledons. They are distinguished by the name of ‘spores,’ and the cases which contain them, when distinguishable, are called “Spo- Tangia,” Here then, based on the fundamental differ- ence observable in connection with the repro. ductive organs, and with the seed, is the dis- AREAWOH & AEAMMAR. 47 tinction which it is necessary to observe at the - very beginning of botanical study. Primary olassi Broadly, it may be compared to * * the great primary distinction of * animals of all kinds into Verte- brata and Invertebrata ; each of the two great divisions comprehending classes of animals and plants, as the case may be, quite as different from one another in subordinate points, as in the aggregate of their contents. Various names have been introduced from time to time, for the two primary classes of plants. All are correct and expressive up to a certain point, and in their own way, but all are defective, through saying either too much or too little. Nature refuses to be bound by defini- tions. Odd resemblances and quaint exceptions constantly make their appearance, and usually when least expected. In Botany, as in human experience, nothing is so imminent as the unlikely. Terms, nevertheless, must be con- trived, or we could not move. It must be understood, however, that im every case they must be accepted with reservation. The cur- rent names of the two great primary classes, authors employing them according to their own mental predilections, are as follow — FLOWERING PLANTS, FLOWERLESS PLANTS, Phaenogamia Cryptogamia Vasculares Cellulares Cotyledoneae Acotyledoneae 2: § - - Sºx. gº º r §§§. Rºº §§ %23%3% ºf & Nºnº % &\\ §§§ II. THE ARTICLE—(continued.) PRACTICAL APPLICATION (continued from page 3). 2. Present of the Indicative of éire, to be — Plum'al. nous SOmmeS, 7ue 47'é vous Têtes, you are ils sont, they are elleTest, she is elles sont, they are on Test, one is les parents sont, the parents are PaulTest, Paul is PaulTet Louise sont, Paul and Louisa are. The same tense, used interrogatively:- Plum'al. sommes-nous 7 are ºve? êtes-vous 7 are you ? Somtºils 7 are they P (m.) Somtſelles 7 are they P (f.) les parents sont ºils? are the parents & PaulTestTil? is Paul ? PaulTet Louise sontſils? - are Paul and Louisa Ż Points of comparative grammar to be noted in the above tense. In French— (1) The 3rd person plural, like the 3rd person singular (il, elle) exhibits the difference of gender in its pronoun: ils masc., elles fem, Singular. Je suis, I am tu es, thou, an’t ilTest, he is Singular. suis-je ? am I? es-tu ? art thou, 2 estTil 7 is he ſº estTelle 7 is She 2 estTom 7 is ome 2 (2) The personal pronoun subject of the verb, when placed after the verb, is joined to it by a hyphen. (3) When the subject of an interrogative clause is a noun, it is placed before the verb, while a personal pronoun, agreeing in gender and number with the noun, is placed after the verb as in the other case. (4) A masculine singular moun and a feminine singular noun, joined by et (and), are replaced by a masculine plural pronoun : ils standing for Paul et Louise. mon, my, before a masc. sing. noun. ma, my, before a fem, sing, noun. Adverbs—aussi, also ; non, no; oui, yes, Conjunctions—et, and ; ou, or ; si, if. Possessive adjective { EXERCISE I. Translate into English — 1. Paul est le frère de Louise, et Louise est la Soeur de Paul. 2. Le père et le grand-père sont les ascendants; le fils et le petit-fils sont les descendants. 3. Es-tu la cousine de Paul ? 4. Non, je suis la Soeur de Louise. 5. Le beau- frère et la belle-soeur de Paul sont les cousins de Louise. 6. Le cousin germain et la cousine germaine de papa (or de mon papa) sont l'oncle et la tante de Louise. 7. Si vous étes le frère de ma mère, vous étes mon oncle. 8. Legendre demon père est mom beau-frère, et la belle-fille (or, more familiarly, la bru) de mon père est ma belle-soeur. 9. Etes-vous la parente de maman? 10. Le mari et la femme sont les époux, le père et la mère sont les parents, le fils et la fille sont les enfants. 11. Mon père et ma mère sont-ils parents * de Paul ou de Louise ? 12. Ta tante de la femme est ma parente. 13. Le grand-père et la grand’mère sont-ils les grands-parents? 14. Oui, et le petit-fils et la pétite-fille sont les petits-enfants, 15. Louise est-elle parente* de Paul ? 16. Oui, elle est la cousine germaine ou la mièce de Paul. 17. Le neveu de papa est mom cousin. 18. Les fiancés sont cousins” de papa et de maman. 19. La belle-mêre de mon père est-elle ma grand’mère 7 20, Etes-vous l'oncle et la tante? Non, mous sommes le beau-père et labelle-mêre. EXERCISE II. Remark,-As shown by the examples of the foregoing Exercise, the possessive case in French is in- variably expressed by de; translate therefore Paul's sister by the sistcy of Paul, the wife's mother by the mother of the wife. Translate into French :— 1. The wife's mother is Paul's sister. 2. Art thou Louisa's brother ? 3. I am the daughter's husband ; I am the son-in-law. 4. If he (cf. § 8, Rem. III.) is the son of my uncle, he is my first cousin. 5. If she is the daughter of my aunt, she is my first cousin. 6. Is Paul mamma's cousin 7 7. My sisteris may son's aunt ; my brother is my son's uncle. 8. We are the parents and you are the children. 9. The nephew and niece (say and the niece) of my father and mother (say and of my mother) are the children of my uncle and aunt (say of my aunt), 10. Is the daughter of my step-father * No article precedes the noun here, because the latter is used adjectively, or in an indefinite manner. 48 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. 11. Is she my relative 7 12. The betrothed are cousins.” 13. If you are mamma's mother you are my grandmother. 14. Papa, is Paul my first cousin, yes or no? 15. Is he Louisa's husband 7 16. They are relatives* of the wife. 17. The betrothed are my nephew and (my) niece. 18. Are the ancestors the ascendants? 19. My grandfather's nephew is papa's first cousin, 20. Is he my cousin also } (say is he also my cousin 7) my step-sister 7 EXERCISE III. Write out in English : — 1. Le temps est l'étoffe dont notre vie est time stuff of which our life faite. 2. La sagesse se trouve dans l'entende- made. wisdom. is found £n judgment ment et non pas dans les années. 3. L'éduca- not in Syears tion redresse l'ignorance. 4. La justice est la f corrects reine de toutes les vertus. 5. Le sage préfère wise queen all - prefers la vertu a la beauté. 6. La vigne porte trois beauty. vine bears three sortes de fruits: l’ivresse, la volupté, et le kinds intoaxication voluptuousness repentir. 7. Le souvenir de la jeunesse est repentance. a'ecollection owth tendre dans les vieillards. 8. Léºn dans old men. pewter ce temps brillait sur les tables et sur les that was shining upon buffets, comme le fer et le cuivre dans les dressers, CIS from brass foyers; l'argent et l'or étaient dans les coffres. hearths ; silver gold were 9. Si tu veux acquérir la santé, écarte les wishest gain health, keep off Soucis, 10. Le conseil, si nécessaire pour les (*([?"e advice so jor affaires, est quelquefois, dans la Société, business, sometimes, muisible à qui le donne. hurtful to him who it gives. Write out in French :- 1. The genius of the French language is génie (m.) langue française (f.) clearness and elegance. 2. Write insults on clarté (f.) &légance (f.) Ecrivez injures sur sand and kindnesses on marble. 3. The world sable (m.) bienfaits marbre (m.) monde (m.) oftener recompenses the appearance of virtue plus souvent récompense apparence (f.) vertu (f.) than virtue itself. 4. Art is long, and life méme que (m.) vie (f.) short. 5. Weariness is the complaint of courte. enmui (m.) maladie (f.) des idle men. 6. Youth feeds on illusions,i jeunesse (f.) se mourrit d’ old age on recollections. 7. The young, vieillesse (f.) de souvenirs jeunes gens (pl.) on account of the passions which engross them, happy. 9. The inhabitant of the mountains heureua: habitant *. (m.) , dest montagnes hates the plains. 10. Michael-Angelo culti- hait plaines. Michel-Angef culti- wated all the arts: painting, sculpture, archi- va fous peinture (f.) (f tecture, engraving, and poetry. (f) gravure (f.) poésie (f.) WE shall suppose that the student has made himself master of the information contained in our first article, that his enthusiasm is unabated, and that neither time nor patience are likely to fail him as we proceed to unfold the mys- teries of astronomy. We shall begin by speaking of the plan of the heavens as shown on the opposite page. Let Fig. 4 represent a kind of plan of the heavens as seen from our imaginary obser- vatory, O. The horizon will be represented by the circle N W S E, where the letters stand at the north, west, south, and east points. The meridian will be denoted by the semicircle N NP Z S, where NP shows the place of the north pole and Z of the zenith or point exactly overhead of O. The equator, or * rather the celestial equator, º which is supposed to be the * great circle in which the plane of the equator may be imagined to intersect the heavens, is represented by W M E, it always passing through the east and west points of the hori- zon. All these points will remain invariably in the same place in the celestial hemisphere as seen from our observatory. Suppose it is noon on the longest day in the year, which is in June, then We E will show the position of the ecliptic in the Eolipti heavens, and the sun will be at e Oliptic, on the meridian, at its highest point above the horizon ; then the angle between the ecliptic, E e W, and the equator, E M W, will be equal to the distance e M, or the sun will be elevated as much above the equator as the ecliptic is inclined to the equator. Suppose we wait six months, until noon on the shortest day in the year, which will be in December ; then the position of the ecliptic will be shown by We' E, or the sun will be depressed as much below the equator as before it was elevated above. Now let us measure in June and December the height of the sun at noon ; then the difference between these two heights will be squal to the distance ee', or twice the angle between the ecliptic and the equator. Now, in 1600 this had been already carefully done by Tycho Brahé (in 1581), who found that the angle between the equator and d cause des $ gui les amusent, bear solitude better than the old. s'accommodent de (*) (f.) mieuw () vieillards (pl.) 8. Neither gold nor greatness make us ni or (m.) ni grandeur (f.) me mous rendent hommes inoccupés * No article precedes the noun here, because the latter is used adjectively, or in an indefinite manner. f Words that are identical in both languages or nearly So (cognates) are not translated, nor are Words already given in the same exercise repeated. # Use no article here. § des contains both preposition and article. k * h mute. + des contains both preposition and article, † Pronounce Meekell-anzh. ASTRO WOMY. 49 ecliptic was equal to 23°29' 5": a little smaller * * than it had been found to be obliquºy" by Waltherius, a German astro. ecliptio, nomer, who in 1490 found it to be 23°29' 47". We now know that it is really slowly decreasing, by about 48.9" per century, and its present value is only 23° 27' 18". This angle is called the obliquity of the ecliptic, and is of course equal to the angle made by the earth’s axis with the perpendicu- lar to the earth's Orbit. The ecliptic or apparent path of the sun in the heavens can be easily laid down by watching the motion of the sum amongst the stars. Suppose we watch the stars which are seen near the sun at Sunset and at sunrise : it will Soon be seen that the stars seen at sunrise, and Position of the therefore to the west of the sun, *** gradually increase their distance heavens. fr e * om that luminary, and rise earlier and earlier before the sun, whilst the stars seen at sunset, and therefore to the east of the sun, seem gradually to approach the sun until they are so close that they can no longer be seen at Sunset. It is evident, therefore, that the sun seems to move towards the east, for the stars, we know, are to all intents fixed in the heavens. This ap- parent motion of the sun we should easily find was rather less than a degreeper day, but to vary slightly, So that on some days it moves about 62', a and on others only ſº f7. It moves fastest in December, and slo west in June. This apparent mo- tion of the sun is of course seen to be explained by the mo- tion of the earth in its orbit, as is shown by Fig. 6. Here E E’ may be considered to re- present the different positions of the earth in its orbit on two successive days, the arrows showing the direction of the motion of the earth in its orbit, and its rotation on its axis. During the time it takes the earth to make one complete revolution on its axis, the earth has moved in its orbit from E to E'. The Sun, therefore, no longer appears in the di- rection E S, or E' S', which is parallel to it, but appears to have moved towards the east, WOL. I. UW days FRG. 4.—A PLAN of THE HEAVENS. FIG. 5.- METEORIC SHOWER. and to be in the direction E’ S. The earth has therefore to rotate still more on its axis before the point P comes in the straight line between the sun and centre of the earth. Now, the average interval between the point P coming successively between the earth's centre and the Sun is what is called a mean Solar day, and is taken to be twenty-four hours, and this we have seen is rather more than the time occupied iby the earth ro- tating on its axis. A mean Solar day is lon- ger than one complete rota- tion of the earth On its axis by just the average time it takes the earth in its ro- tation to over- takö the sun in its apparent mo- tion amongst the stars. In one year of 3654 solar the sun moves right round the heavens, or 360 degrees; Apparent and in one day the earth rotates motion of the On its axis, so that in One day it surn. Solar moves 1--3654 part of these 360 day. degrees, or 58' 113". In one solar day, or 24 hours, the earth Totates on its axis just these 360 degrees plus this extra 3654 part of a rotation necessary to overtake the sun again. To find out the time in which the earth makes one complete revolution is therefore merely a sum in proportion of l the form as *Fää is to 24 hours, so is 1 to a complète re- volution of the earth, or 23 hours 56 minutes 4 seconds. The earth, therefore, in one year of 3653 days, rotates On its axis exactly 3663 times. As the stars are very far off, == they do not appear to £ alter their direction as the earth moves in its orbit, and come back to the meridian after one complete rotation of the earth. This period is called a sidereal day, and we see it is 3 minutes 56 seconds shorter than Apparent a solar day. The stars, therefore, .."; º which appear due south at ten 'aº. €re o’elock on One day will seem to be due South at 9 hours 56 minutes 4 seconds On the next day, or 3 minutes 56 seconds earlier, and a month later will seem to be due south at eight o'clock. As the year goes on the aspect of the evening skies continually alters, stars which were high up in the east 4 y^ THE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. on a June evening will be low down in the west at the same hour on a September evening, but by the same day of the next year the heavens have come back to their pristine appearance. All these facts were perfectly well known at the beginning of the Seventeenth century. From the rotation of the earth on its axis, every heavenly body appears to rise from the east and sink to the west, moving Rising and apparently in a path parallel with º the celestial equator. At any ‘. time we always see half the celes- tial equator. So that stars near it remain for some twelve hours above the horizon, If the star is a good deal to the north of the equa- tor, in the n or the r n hemisphere it remains more than twelve hours above the h or i z on. Thus in Our imaginary observatory a' 3’ d’ shows the path of a star about 30°above the equator. The great circle ENPW, per- pendicular to the equator, divides the daily or di- urnal ap- parent path of a body in to t w O halves, each of which it re q u i r es * & * --— T----- _-T i hours to t r a V e r S e. Those stars, in f a c t, which 3.Te more than 40° from the equator will never Set at all at our Ob- servatory, but move in circles round and round the pole N P. The path of a star about 70° from the equator is shown at 2, 3, in the figure. A star South Cf the equator will seem to be above the horizon for far less than twelve hours, for exactly the reverse reason; and stars near the south pole will never about twelve Servatory. In the figure ºn e' n' shows the apparent path of the Sun on the shortest day in December when it is above the horizon for only 73 hours, whilst on the longest day in June it is above the horizon for 17 hours. We have already devoted some attention to the study of the apparent motion of the sun in the heavens: let us now study the real motion of the moon—the attendant on the earth in its annual journey round the sun. From a very early period much attention had been devoted to the study of the motion of the moon, for it was justly ſº regarded as being to the earth Motion of the only second in importance to the * sun. Its proximity to the earth, its apparent size, its utility to us terrestial inhabitants, all pointed it out as a body to be most assiduously studied. It was, moreover, the only known Satellite—a fact increasing the interest belong- ing to this unique body. Many celebrated philosophers urged that, as the earth was the sole member of the family of planets of the solar system which was dignified by possessing a satellite, this could only be on account of the earth possessing some particular importance in the solar system. Here, then, they said, is a grave objection to this theory advocated by that dreamer Copernicus and that mad theorist Kepler, for it does not assign to the earth any particular dignity of place or importance in function. On this theory, they urged, is it not Mercury, important from its proximity to the sun, or still more likely, Saturn, the planet which is farthest from the sun, and therefore The moon as an objection to the Copernican Theory, that receiving the least light, is it not one of be seen at all from our supposititious ob- these which is of most importance, and should be dignified by the possession of a moon ' If this comparatively insignificant earth possess one satellite, why, Mars should have two, Jupiter should have four, and Saturn eight moons, which is absurd. There must be something imperfect in this theory of Copernicus, or it would not leave without explanation such an important point as the unique satellite being appended to the earth. And in those days much gravity was attached to reasoning of this character. wº-dº.” *... . ." º ſº; tº . . . & º 4 !-3. - #y. A v - § - - - #N'``,Nº. ** <&T º |CCCC II. ROMAN NOTATION. IN the ancient Roman notation, which is still used frequently, the following were the principal symbols —I stands for l ; V for 5; X for 10 ; L for 50 ; C for 100 ; D for 500 ; and M for 1000. J In order to express any required number by these symbols, they may be combined according to the following rule :- When two of the above letters are written One after the other, if the one which stands º ºČfº A 2XTEIME/TIC. 51 first (i.e. to the left hand of the other) repre- sents a number greater than or equal to that represented by the other, then the two numbers are to be added together ; but if the letter which represents the lesser number stands first, then the number denoted is the difference of the two. Thus XI stands for 10 added to 1 (i.e. 11). But IX stands for 10 less 1 (i.e. 9). Again VI = 6; but IV = 4. A line drawn just over a letter increases its value a thousandfold. Thus W = 5000, X = 10,000. The following table will illustrate the rules by which these letters are combined to form all required numbers :— I == 1 XXIX = 30 II = 2 XL == 40 III = 3 L = 50 IV = 4 LX = 60 V = 5 LXX = 70 VI = 6 LXXX = 80 VII = 7 XC = 90 VIII = 8 C = 100 IX. = 9 CC = 200 X = 16 CCC = 300 XI = 11 CCCO) = 400 XII = 12 D = 500 XIII = 13 DC = 600 XIV = 14 DCC = 700 XV = 15 DCCO = 800 XVI = 16 CM = 900 XVI [ = 17 M = 1000 XVIII = 18 MC = 1100 XIX = 19 MD = 1500 XX = 20 MDC = 1600 XXI = 21 MDCCCLXXIX = 1879 XXII = 22 and so on up to XXIX = 29 JEacercises. 1. Write down in nords the following num- bers : 43 ; 750 ; 075; 103; 130. Answers: Forty-three ; seven hundred and fifty ; seventy-five ; one hundred and three ; one hundred and thirty. 2. Write down in figures the following numbers: Three hundred and thirty-three ; three hundred and three ; three hundred and thirty. Answers : 333; 303 ; 330. 3. Write down in words the following num- bers : 7654; 82106; 1,000,000; 999999. 4. Express in figures the following numbers: (a) Four thousand five hundred and sixty- SeWen, (b) Ninety-five million four hundred and six thousand seven hundred and one. (c) Eight hundred and eleven thousand and OIlê. SIMPLE ADDITION, Simple addition is the process of finding a number which is equal to two or several numbers taken together. Thus the process by which we find that 2 and 3 and 4 taken together make 9 is called addition. It is a means of uniting several numbers into a single number. The single number thus formed out of several is called the 8wm, or the amount. Thus in the above example 9 is the sum, or the amount. The following table of addition must be committed perfectly to memory before we can advance any farther — 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 1 make 2 1 make 3 1 make 4 1 make 5 2 ... 3 2 .. 4 2 .. 5 2 .. 6 3 4. 3 5 3 6 3 . 7 || 4. 5 4 6 || 4 7 || 4 ... 8 || b; 6 5 7 5 8 5 9 | 6 7 6 8 6 9 6 ... 10 7 8 7 9 7 10 7 . 11 8 9 8 10 8 11 8 . I2 9 10 9 11 9 12 9 H3 ſ 10 11 10 12 10 13 10 14 § 5 and 6 and 7 and 8 and 1 make 6 1 make 7 1 make 8 1 make 9 2 . . 7 2 º 8 2 . . 9 2 ... 10 3 8 3 9 3 10 3 11 4. 9 4 10 4. 11 4. 12 5 10 5 11 5 12 5 13 6 11 6 E2 6 13 6 14 7 12 7 13 7 14 7 15 8 13 8 14 8 15 8 16 9 14 9 15 9 I6 9 17 IQ 3.5 10 16 16) 17 l:0 18 N 9 and 10 and 11 and 12 and 1 make 10 1 make 11 1 make 12 l make 13 2 ... 11 2 . . 12 2 . . 13 2 ... 14 3 . 12 3 13 3 ... 14 3 35 4 . 13 4. 14 4 . 15 4. 16 5 14. 5 15 5 ... 16 5 17 6 15 6 16 6 . 17 6 18 7 16 7 17 7 . 18 7 19 8 . 17 8 18 8 . 19 8 20 9 . 18 9 19 9 . z0 9 2] 10 . 19 10 20 10 . 2] 10 22 13 and 14 and 15 and 16 and 1 make 14 1 make 15 1 make 16 l make 17 § . 15 2 16 2 . . 17 18 1, 8 16 3 17 $ | 8 3 19 4. 17 4. 18 4. 19 4. 20 5 18 5 19 5 20 5 21 || 6 19 6 20 6 21 6 22 7 20 7 21 7 22 7 23 8 21 8 22 8 23 8 24 9 22 9 23 9 24 9 25 10 23 10 24 || 10 25 ſ 10 26 The student should constantly write down for himself such calculations as the following : 3 + 5 = 8 ; 7+8 = 15 ; 11 + 9 = 20, etc. This will do more than anything else to make him familiar with the addition table. The sign + is called “plus,” and when placed between two numbers it means that we are to add them together. Thus 2 + 3 is read “two plus three,” and means that 2 and 3 are to be added together. The sign = is called “equal,” or “the sign of equality,” and means that the two numbers, or combinations of numbers, between which it is placed are equal to each other. Thus we may say 2 + 3 = 5–i.e., 2 and 3 together equal 5. The sign ... means “therefore.” Before learning the usual rule for simple addition, it is necessary to understand tho- roughly the following reasoning on which these rules are founded. 52 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Suppose we want to find the sum of 2314 and 9.125. Now 2314 = 4 units + 1 ten + 3 hun. + 2 thou. and 9125 = 5 35 + 2 33 + 1 3, # 9 35 ... the sum Of 2314 =9 , + 3 , + 4 , + 11, and 91.25 which in our notation is written 11439. This result, we see, has been obtained by simply writing down the sum of the units, and then the sum of the tens, and then the sum of he hundreds, and so on. Again. Suppose we want to add 1368 and 659. . . Now 1368 =8 units + 6 tens + 3 hun. + 1 thou. and 659 =9 , + 5 , + 6 , ... the sum Of 1368 =17, + 11 y + 9 , + 1 .,, and 659. This, in its present form, we cannot write down in our notation, but we may be able to alter its form without changing its value. We shall now show how this can be done. Now 17 units = 7 units + 1 ten, ..'.17 units + 11 tens =7 units + 12 tens,” and 12 tens = 2 tens + 1 hund.; ..”.17 units + 11 tens = 7 units + 2 tens + 1 hund. Now let us take in the 9 hundreds ; then 17 units+11 tens-H9 hundreds =7 units—H2 tens–H 10 hundreds f =7 units—H2 tens–H 0 hund.—H·l thous. ... 17 units—H11 tens-H9 hund.—H1 thous. =7 units—H2 tens–H0 hund.-- 2 thous., which is expressed in our notation by 2027. III. : By comparing the reasoning in these ex- amples with the following rule, the latter will be clearly understood. But the learner need not be discouraged if everything is not clear at once. He must determine to give the whole subject careful, patient study, and he will be rewarded by finding his grasp of it grow gradually firm and strong. Rule for simple addition — Write down the numbers one under the [ other in such a way that the units of each number stand under the units of the preceding numbers, the tens under the tens, hundreds under hundreds, and so on. 1. Now find the sum of the figures in the units column. If it be less than ten, write it down under the units column; but if it be ten, or more than ten, write down the units figure only (i.e. the last figure on the right hand) of this sum, and carry the other figure to the next column. 2. Add the figure so carried to the figures in the tens column, and find the Sum. 3. Just as before, write down under the Second column the units figure of the sum thus found, and carry the other figure to the next column. 4. Treat this column in the same way; and ! so on, till we come to the last column, and write down in full its sum. 5. The entire number thus written down is the sum of the several numbers. We now give some easy, practical illustrations of the rule. i (1) Suppose we want to find the sum of 23, 18, 961. Arrange thus:— 23 We say, 1 and 8 are 9; 9 and 3 are 18 12, i.e., 12 units, or 1 ten and 961 2 units; so we write 2 under the &=== . º carry the 1 º: -: to the tens column. Adding this Sum = 1002 1 ten to the other tens, i.e., to the figures in the Second column, we have 10 tens, i.e., 1 hundred and no tens ; so we write 0 under the tens column and carry 1 to the hundreds column. Adding this 1 to the 9 we find 10, and this being the last column, we write ten in full. s The sum of the three given numbers is thus found to be 1002.* We say— (2) Add together (1) 3 and 1 make 4; 4 and 5476, 231, 7023. 6 make 10 ; put down 0 and carry 1. Arrange thus:— (2) 1 and 2 make 3 ; 3 and 5476 3 make 6 ; 6 and 7 make 231 13; put down 3 and 7023 carry 1. (3) 1 and 2 make 3 ; 3 and 12730 4 make 7; put down 7. (4) 7 and 5 make 12; write down 12. * Here it will be observed that of the 17 we have kept only the 7 units and have carried on the remain- ºng ten to the 11 tens. * Hore it will be seen that of the 12 tens we have kept onry the 2 tens, and have carried on the 1 hundred to the 9 hundreds. EXERCISES IN ADDITION. 1. 452 2. 898 3. 756 4, 1111 356 357 93 3333 892 11 596 4444 734 934 732 8888 5, 567 6. 596 .7. 465 8. 213 321 637 892 B8? 504 507 320 640 893 465 465 803 651 893 138 756 9, 4632 10, 2934 11. 8342 12. 2564 593 4060 2176 3281 29.10 3278 381 4064 4634 6540 26 5072 13, 29634 14, 56230 15. 32674 16. 11354 56840 2.1347 52819 67241 32456 bj6211 20341 32402 893.11 40307 37120 67540 21678 89345 89374 23475 I?. 5320 18. 65.11 19, 4532 20, 5236 6511 5342 3214 8973 4234 8603 1130 2467 8976 7241 456 3012 1130 3251 21 6741 246 4569 6304 3520 8976 352] 4607 4834 tºmºmºsºm- * The correctness of a result in addition may be tested by adding the columns downwards, and if the result so obtained be the same as that obtained by adding upwards, it is probably correct. & EOI,06; Y. 53 21. 153674 22. 564321 23, 289673 24, 362410 672431 568.473 48561 3897 468304 329671 70632 46.432 534.290 210304 4567 8507 25, 123465 26. 453820 27, 1523460 28. 8093462 24032 156073 493542 4567890 65210 400052 290304 34245 347684 85.6093 36029 216427 520314 421875 2080 1476509 423567 765.325. 465210 32.1054 402681 643290 5073423 46257 2. Perform the following additions:— 21 53 59 37 26) 69 26 95 43 53 78 84 41 99 156 763 666 132 895 203 219 777 123 958 142 810 999 321 589 3201 5098 5433 1891 4567 1347 1007 4867 8911 bj678 6700 6260 7684 9811 6789 42356 67543 32140 15453 50621 98762 75644 62060 216 34303 12345 56.872 70208 34 76531 67891 90.100 02080 72037 20000 The student must test the correctness of his results by the aid of the note p. 52; or as follows: -Cut off the top line and add together the re- maining numbers. Add the sum thus found to the top line. If the result is the same as the original result the work is probably correct. 3. Prove that (a) 8 + 7–H 15 + 30 + 60 = 120. (b) 42 + 23 + 16 + 100 + 58 = 239. (c) 35 + 135 + 30 + 250 + 40 + 110 = 600. 4. (a) If a man work for 120 minutes before 'breakfast, 180 between breakfast and dinner, and 300 between dinner and supper, how many minutes' work has he done by supper time ! (b) In 1861 the population of Edinburgh was 160,302; of Glasgow, 168,795 more than that of Edinburgh ; of Aberdeen, 71,973; of Inverness, 24,527 more than that of Aberdeen. What was the total population of all these places 7 (c) There were 4 baskets containing eggs worth a penny a piece. The first contained 25 eggs; the Second 35 + 70; the third as much as the first and second together; and the fourth 5 more than the first and third together. What was the value of all the eggs in the four baskets 7 (d) A woman sells 100 apples on Monday; twice as many and 4 more on Tuesday; as many on Wednesday as on Monday and Tues- day together ; the same number on Thursday and Friday ; and as many on Saturday as on all the other days put together. How many did she sell in the week 7 II. WE are now in a position to take another step. A moment's thought will convince the student that all sedimentary Tocks must have been deposited horizon- tally, or nearly so. It is obvious that mud carried down to the sea. by a river, or worn by the action of the waves from the shore, spreads itself out in even layers, after filling up the inequalities of the surface over which it extends, “thinning out,” however, as it Teaches the extreme limit to which it is carried. These layers of sedi- mentary deposit are called strata, and the rocks of which we have been speaking are known as stratified rocks. The manner in which the layers are disposed is called stratifi- cation. In the section given on p. 18 it will be seen that the strata are not horizontal. On the left side they slant towards the south. In tech- nical phraseology, they “dip ’’ to the S. at an angle of about 45 degrees. On the right hand they dip towards the north in a similar man- ner.” So far, therefore, from these strata being in their original position, it is clear they have been shifted until they are nearly upright; and wherever the limestone has not been covered up by subsequent deposits, the traveller across the Mendips walks upon their upturned ends. How has this come to pass? The answer to this inquiry may be given by anyone who carefully examines the diagram. The various slanting beds on the sedimentary rocks originally horizontal, right and left of the sandstone * º: which forms the centre of the mi. hills were once joined together as . horizontal strata stretching right across. The whole mass has since been crumpled by One of those movements of the earth's sur- face of which we have so many geological records, and the upper portion of the curve has since been worn and masted anay. To ascertain the original form and height of the range, we might trace the lines necessary to complete this curve and measure the thickness restored ac- cording to the scale of the diagram. There is, however, a simpler method, which will answer our purpose better. From the centre of the sandstone (marked a) to the extreme limit of the coal measures on the right of the diagram, the actual measurement is two miles; and as this is the thickness which once extended over the top, so much, at least, has been wasted from the summit of the hills. It will now be seen that the sandstone is the oldest of the strata, that the coal measures are the youngest of the series, & g and that the crumpling and bend- *::::::: of ing of the rocks in this particular © 8 instance took place after the coal measures had enorumpled, .* The word strike is employed to describe the direc- tion of strata-east, west, north, or south—at right angles to the dip. 54 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. been deposited. A curve such as this, in which the bend is upwards, is called an anticlinal,— a bend in the opposite direction is a synclinal. There is a small synclinal curve in the diagram immediately under the letter h on the left hand side of the central sandstone. 29 [º * § º % 2 HºN A 2&Nº Nº|| £º* tº - § §§ &\\ wº-sº sº ń. § º .* hi - w ; :". - dº º § t § º §§§llºš sº ºS s-ºr- * J.-2: § § §º º º º Wºº w º º Sºº Yº Nº. M. Vº § Wºº)\! WS *: º º * * º § sº § $f Sºus • "fſº § º \\ Włº * W\ ARTICLINAL AND SYN CLINAHL CURVES OF THE JURA MOUNTAIN S. It is not to be assumed that the movement by which these strata were crumpled and Upheaval and arched, as we have seen they were, crumpling was a sudden event. All the Sug- probably gestions of the rocks themselves, gradual and the evidence supplied by simi- Processes, lar phenomena, lead to the directly opposite conclusion. We do not, for instance, find in the beds from the centre of the Mendips outwards any traces of the immense heat which would have been liberated by a “convulsion of nature” on a scale necessary to have produced such a result suddenly. We know, for instance, what the effect of great heat would have been upon the limestones. In the north of Ireland the chalk is overlaid by basaltic rocks which were once molten lava, and in many places it is penetrated by masses of similar material which have forced their way upwards in a molten condition. Wherever this has taken place a great change has been produced in the rocks through which they have passed. The chalk, for some distance round the intruded basalt, has been altered into a granular crystal- line limestone like the white marble used by statuaries. Every trace of the minute shells of which chalk is largely composed has been de- stroyed, and the original structure is no longer recognizable. There can be no reasonable doubt that a similar though more extensive result would have taken place in the Mendips if the forces by which they have been thrown into their present form had been suddenly exerted. It does not follow, however, that where rocks have been so changed we are at liberty to conclude without hesitation that they have been subjected to violently abrupt action. In the Alps, for instance, and in the mountainous regions of North Wales, great changes in the wriginal structure of the rocks have undoubtedly taken place, and they are crumpled to a much greater extent than is anywhere observable in the Mendip hills; but even there we are not to assume without other and distinct evidence that the movements which produced these re- sults were anything but gradual. The causes by which “metamorphism” (or change in the original structures of rocks) has been brought about have been investigated by many observers, but they are still somewhat obscure and only imperfectly understood. We may, however, fairly conclude that any abrupt and violent movements equal to the rapid crumpling of the Mendips would have produced greater altera- tion than is anywhere visible. It has already been pointed out that all the strata of which we have hitherto been speaking are “conformable"—that is, they Conformable have been formed regularly One and upon the other without any unconformable obvious break. The limestone strata. “shales” follow the curves of the sandstone ; the true limestones those of the “shales’; the “millstone grits” those of the limestones; and the coal measures dip at precisely the same X- Sºmºsºs myº Fº #|| Nº.: $ºlºšš ŞW$# & º CONFORMABLE STRATIFICATION. angles as the previous strata. The movements, therefore, by which the strata were curved upwards took place, as we have said, after the deposit of the coal measures; and by a similar process of reasoning we are enabled to trace another period in the history of the hills. On the left hand of the section, and along the top of the Mendips (f, g, h), there are strata which NSYN -- º Ş º fišŠs º - - • º §&y º ;ssessssssssssss sºp|Tºmmiſſimilliſimi. + → ~~ \\\\\\". . . . . "Sººszºº |||||||I|Tim sº w à ãº: - * * Wyº.'; 'A: ; WNY &S) S$º º * * W 2 < \ y “A ** * * UN CONFORMABLE STRATIFICATION. are not conformable. The highest point of the range rises nomy about one thousand feet above the sea level (indicated by the horizontal line in the section marked *), and even the lower parts on the left of the diagram are consider- ably above that line. When, however, the strata which now cover them were deposited it is clear, first, that the older strata—on the upturned edges of which they lie—had been already curved ; secondly, that the enormous mass which, as we have pointed out, has been wasted away, was already gone ; and, thirdly, that the worn surface had been again lowered so as to become the bottom of a shallow sea. Strata which lie thus more or less unevenly upon other rocks are called unconformable. The lowest and consequently the first formed of these unconformable strata represented in our diagram (p.18)are those marked f. They are known as “dolomitic a.º. * } } In). conglomerates,” and as such they conglomerates. will probably continue to be called, but the name is not a happy one. . The EDUCATION AS ALW INVESTMEWT. 5t term “conglomerate" is usually employed to distinguish strata composed of waterworn pebbles cemented together by some other substance. The well-known “pudding stone” found in the neighbourhood of London is a true conglomerate. A rock made up in a similar way with angular fragments is a “breccia.” The “dolomitic conglomerate ’’ is a breccia. It is composed almost entirely of fragments of the underlying rock, cemented together into a hard mass by earthy matter containing a considerable proportion of oxide of iron; in some districts there is less iron and a great deal of magnesia. Limestone rocks, which have a large proportion of magnesia in them, are called dolomitic limestones. Hence the term “dolomitic” has been applied to the beds of which we are speaking. This conglomerate or breccia could not have been formed in deep water. There is very little doubt that the sinking land was covered by a lake or in- land sea. At first the hills would stand out as is- lands. By degrees the lower, and then the higher levels were sub- merged, until the whole mass sank beneath the waterS. While this was going on, the fragments now included in the breccia were imbedded in a pºss pasty mud, which ºf was subsequently ºss hardened. Then the whole country #: became lowered sufficiently to ad- mit of the influx of the ocean, and the strata marked g and h were succes- sively deposited—the whole of them, however, being shallow water deposits. In Vallus Bottom, near Frome, we have some additional evidence that this was the case. In the up- turned limestones, similar to those marked c in the diagram, there remain to this day the holes made by well-known boring molluscs. Some of these burrows actually contain the shells of the animals by which they were ex- cavated; and as we know that they are never to be found in the deep sea, but always carry on their work within the limits of compara- tively shallow water, we have the required con- firmation, further strengthened by other facts which we need not discuss now. The beds that lie above the “dolomitic conglomerates” it is not necessary for our immediate purpose to describe. It is enough now to point out that since they were deposited the whole range has been raised to its present height above the sea level, becoming Once more dry land. Fº THE FRIENDLY COUNSELLOR. ! ** - - ºfºº Rºsº tº º Tº fºr Gºvar’s - EDUCATION AS AN INVESTMENT. BY ROBERT SOMERS. LEARNING, or to speak more exactly to the matter in hand, the means of learning—the exercise and furniture of the mind and senses, by which one can look into the world of nature and of man, and see more clearly and deeply all things therein—are, like virtue, their own reward. A man or woman who can read and understand, can never be without a help in toil, a balm in sorrow, a guide in perplexity, a sweet distraction from pain of body or agony and turbulence of mind, a dissolver of all wayward or criminal impulses of passion —in short, a universal re- storer. One may | well w on der % what the effects on human hap- piness will be when this re- source is pos- sessed and duly drawn upon by all. It will doubtless then be seen that learning, in its simple sense of means, re- pays itself a hundredfold, apart from divi- dends or salaries, and that it is not to be regarded ' as a utility so much as a ne- cessity of life. A man may vegetate, decay, and die without learning. But he cannot really live without the means of learning. In this short essay, however, it is proposed to take the utilitarian view, and consider how far learning can be said to repay in material profit the money, time, and application spent in its acquirement—in short, to be a profitable investment 7 What is an investment? A man has £100, or any larger or less sum. He may enjoy this money at once, because it can buy many things which will afford him much though temporary gratification. But he chooses to deny himself this gratification, and to keep his £100— lending it at interest, or buying with it some kind of productive property or stock, by which the money will be returned to him periodically with a profit or increase. This is investment of the money; and it is from the simple act of abstinence from spending money, and investing it, that arises all the perplexing difference between capital and labour. If the abstinence be steady and prolonged, there is no end to the 56 THE UNIVERSA I, IVSTEU OTOR. increase of one's capital. It may soon become so large that its happy owner will be able to employ many workpeople in any business of his own, or live without business on the mere interest of his money, giving himself up wholly to the personal enjoyment, a rigorous and con- tinued abstinence from which was the founda- tion of his wealth. He may not only live at ease, but may spend his whole income as he pleases, and enjoy himself thereupon to the top of his bent. He need not trouble himself even about education,-on the contrary, may return to a state of nature, become semi-savage, and hunt the buffalo and the red deer on the prairies of the West, or pursue the whale, the walrus, and the bear in the Polar Seas. But if capital has its triumphs of enfran- chisement, so also has education. The parallel between “money as an investment,” and “education as an investment,” may not be wholly exact, but it holds good in many points of view, and it is precisely true in the cardinal idea of investment ; viz., an economical increase of money in the one case, and of education in the other. A person may enter on active life with or without education. Which is the more projtable, the more likely to succeed, to have the more liberal reward ” Or, two persons may enter on active life, and in precisely the same branch of active life with precisely the same amount or degree of education; but the one chooses to use up the education he has, without giving more time or expense in adding to it, while the other takes the opposite course, and continues to carry forward his education from one stage to another, bearing on the sphere of activity in which he is engaged. The one spends his edu- cation from the beginning ; the other does just the reverse, and puts forth continued efforts to render it more perfect and consummate. Will the abstinence practised in this case be rewarded on anything like the same principle as absti- nence from spending, or economy in saving and fructifying money? It may be argued, indeed, that one wholly uneducated may enter the same sphere, and beat all the others, of whatever degree of education. But this supposes exceptional qualities or circumstances, and may only be the exception proving the rule that, cateris paribus, the man of best education, and whose fund of education is constantly increased, will take the lead in pay, promotion, and profits, to an extent much exceeding the self-denial and cost of the learning he has acquired. The economy of education, in the strictly financial sense, can be supported by a cloud of witnesses. The poor peasants and artisans of Scotland, who, generation after genera- tion, gave the example of paying out of their scanty earnings, and saving indeed from their necessary food and clothing, the school- fees of their children, must have had faith that they were laying up their pence at higher in- terest than could be paid by any bank or any investment to be found. And has not that faith been abundantly realised? Are not the results most markedly seen in the success of Scotsmen in India, America, Australia, and other parts of the world, as well as in the marvellous develop- ment—agricultural, commercial, manufacturing, miniog, and professional—at home, which in the course of a century has converted Scotland from one of the poorest into one of the richest countries in Europe? The more elaborate and complex the arts of industry, and the more extensive and voluminous the international exchange of goods and produce become, the greater is the demand made upon that intelli- gence of the workers, which is not the gift of nature, but, on the contrary, is only acquired by learning and study. For notwithstanding what has been so often said as to the tendency of machines to supersede the intelligence and craft of the workman, it is quite certain that since the advent of machinery the skill and information of workmen have had to be greatly extended, and work of every kind to assume a more perfect and finished form. The great extension of trade among so many civilised, and yet very differently endowed, nations, has had a similar effect on the func- tions of mercantile life; while the progress of science has not only modified, but much enlarged the boundaries of study in all learned professions. There never was a time, therefore, when education and degrees of education were more certain to have an im- portant effect on the fortune of individuals. Though competitive examinations are an extreme form of the general case, and, indeed, far from being generally applicable, yet they may be aptly used to illustrate the spirit, at least, in which it is requisite to prepare and qualify for all departments of active life. In the civil service there are usually two or more stages of competitive trial, a first and second or lower and higher examination. In looking at the subjects in these examinations, one sees that they are prepared for classes of young men very differently educated. But supposing a youth has passed the lower examination, he would certainly be unwise not to prosecute his education, if such a course should be within reach, to stages where he could hope to pass the highest examination. In the one case the maximum of salary he may have to look forward to after many years of patient service, may be no more than £300 per annum ; in the other it may be £1,000 or greatly more. In the civil service, education is unquestionably a most profitable investment. But so also prac- tically it is in mercantile and manufacturing life, in chemical and other scientific industries, and in literary or artistic occupations, where the educational qualification will always be quickly recognised, and obtain a preference and better terms. Finally, let it be remarked that education has one great advantage over money “as an investment.” The last outlays of capital in any work, whether it be of land or manufacture, are usually less remunerative than the pre- ceding. As the amount of capital in a business increases, the rate of profit diminishes. Where- as the last advances of education are usually the most profitable of all. They are easier made than the rudimentary, and yet are most sure to bring the crowning reward. FREAVCH PROWUAVCIATION. 57 ACCENTS AND ORTHOGRAPHICAL SIGNS. § 3. Three ACCENTs are used : the acute (accent aigw), the grave (accent grave), and the circumflex * (accent circomflease); and four ORTHOGRAPHICAL SIGNS : the diaeresis " (tréma), the apostrophe ' (apostrophe), the cedilla b (cédille), and the "hyphen - (trait d’union). 4. The acute accent (') stands only overe, and gives it a close sound, such as that of a in face : été, summer. [The acute accent is put over all close e's which finish a syllable, or are only followed by s, the sign of plural, or e mute : bonté, vérité, assemblée, les prés émaillés. But write without accent the close e in mez, loger, because it does not finish the syllable in these words.] § 5. (a) The grave accent ( ) stands over e, and gives it an open sound, such as that of e in were: colère, anger. [The grave accent is put over all open e's which end the syllable : pèle (pê-le), réglement (re-gle-ment) prophète (pro-phè-te), il mêne (mē-ne), or on open e's followed by an 8 com- pleting the word : procès, succès. Read, however, with the open sound : ces, les, mes, tes, ses; j'appelle, terre, coquette, Sienne. In the last four examples, the doubling of the consonants l, r, t, and n, gives an open Sound to e. It must be noticed that e always takes a grave accent when it finishes a syllable and is followed by one consonant only and e mute, as shown above. In the interrogative forms aimé-je, dussé-je, as also in avénement and événement, the acute accent, to a certain extent, does duty for the grave. See § 22.] Remark.--All words in ége—as college, sacri- lège, il siège—used to be written €ge; in the new edition of their Dictionary, the Académie have introduced this very desirable change. (b) The grave accent serves also to distinguish between some homonyms (i.e., words having the same sound): &, prep., to or at, and a, verb, has. dès, prep., from, and des, part. art., some. lā, adverb, there, and la, pers. pron., her. oil, adverb, mºhere, and ou, conjunction, or. The other words where \ is to be found are : că, hither, decá, on this side, delà, on that side, déjà, already, holā, hulloa, voilà, behold. § 6. (a) The circumflew accent () stands over any vowel, and gives it a broad and long sound: ãme, soul, crème, cream, abºme, abyss, póle, pole, máre, mulberry. In most cases it denotes a suppressed letter—as bête, beast, from the old French beste, Latin bestia ; &ne, ass, old French asne, Latin asinus ; áge, age, old French adge or eage, Latin aetas; dévoilment, devotion, also spelled dévouement ; gaité, cheerfulness, also spelled gaieté. (b) The circumflex accent also appears on the penultimate e in some words: in éme, as eaſt,'émé, bléme ; on the i in verbs in ażtre and 0?tre, where the is followed by t: maître, accrožtre, il mažt, mous accroſtrons ; on the 0 preceding the finals le, me, ne: pāle, dóme, tróne ; on the 1st and 2nd persons plural of the perfect definite indicative, and on the 3rd person singular of the imperfect subjunctive : nous aimámes, vous aimátes, qu'il aimát. In all those cases * indicates a suppression of letter or a long Sound. (c) The circumflex accent distinguishes be- tween the following homonyms : dit, past participle of devoir, to omic (old French dew), from dw, compound article replacing de le. crá, past participle of cro?tre, to grow ; from cru, past participle of croire, to believe. mºr, ripe (old French meur), from mºur, a wall. sūr, sure (old French sewr), from sur, upon OF SOUIT. Remark.-Tu, past participle, is not distin- guished from tw, pronoun, by a circumflex, as Some examination papers suggest. § 7. The diaresis (“) is sometimes placed over e, i, u, to separate them in pronunciation from a preceding or following vowel : Noël, Christmas, pron. Wö-ell. wažf, artless, 55 7tſi-eef. Saill, Saul, 53 Sã-wl. Žambe, iambic, 55 ee-amb'. faïence, delf-ware 55 fă-iamss. Remark.-In the noun ciguë, hemlock, and in the feminine adjectives aigué, ambiguë, con- tigué, eaciguë, the diaeresis gives no sound to the e mute ; it indicates that the e forms a syllable by itself (although a mute one) apart from the w preceding, and that these words should be pronounced differently from intrigue, brigue, figue, in which the w is merely introduced to give a hard sound to g, or rather in order to preserve the original guttural sound of g. Until recently poème and poète were written poème and poète—cases in which the diaeresis gives a sound to e ; the anomaly is now removed. § 8. The apostrophe (') points out the sup- pression of a vowel at the end of a word, when the next word begins with a vowel or h mute; it promotes rapidity of utterance by destroying the hiatus. l'amitié, friendship, for la amitié. il m'homore, he honours me, for il me homore. s'il, if he, s'ils, if they, for si il and si ils. Remark I.--To remove a letter and replace it by an apostrophe is called elision. Remark II.-The words which undergo the process of elision are : (1) The articles le, la. (2) The pronouns je, me, te, se, le, la, ce. (3) The particles ºne, que. (4) Jusque, puisque, quelque, quoigºte, before il, ils, elle, elles,on, wºn. (5) Entre, when used in the formation of the reciprocal pronominal verbs s'entr'accorder, s'ent'accuser, s'entr’aider, s'ent'aimer, s'ento'- avertir, s'entr'égorger ; in the reflective verb s'ent'ouvrin', and the noun entr'acte. (6) The adjective grande in some feminine compound nouns: as, grandºmère, grandmother, grand'messe, high mass; grand peur, fright. etc, 58 THE UNIVERSA I, IWSTRUCTOR. Aemark III.-The a is elided nowhere but in the article or pronoun la when the next word begins with a vowel or silent h. In the old forms m’amour, my love, and m'amie, my dear, a was likewise elided ; in modern French the hiatus is avoided by replacing ma by mon, and thus saying mon amour, mom amie. The i is only elided in the conjunction si before il or ils—nowhere else : qu', therefore, stands for que, a relative pronoun in the objective case, or que, a conjunction, and never for qui, a relative pronoun in the nomi- native. The diphthong oi is elided in both moi and toi before en : domne-m'en, give me Some, for domne-moi-en; prends-t'en à lui, blame him for it, for prends-toi-en à lui. Remark I W.—The above-mentioned elision speaks both to ear and eye ; there is another one not less important, which is not repro- duced in writing. It is fully treated in §§ 19 and 20. & § 9. The cedilla (b) is placed under the c to give it the pronunciation of an s before the vowels a, o, w :— ça =&a, go = 80, cu = 8w. Without the cedilla, these syllables would be pronounced ka, ko, ku. Remark. — The cédille comes to French through the obsolete Spanish cedilla, the word being a diminutive of zeta, the Greek name for z; indeed b is the remains of a z which used to be written after 6 to make it sound like s : faczon, now façon; leczon, now legon. It also replaces the e which appears after c in many old French words : conçw for conceu, perçue for perceué, etc. § 10. The hyphen (-) is a short dash placed between the parts of a compound word : tout- puissant, omnipotent; belles-lettres, literature ; coq-à-l'éne, cock-and-bull story ; arc-en-ciel, rainbow. The hyphen is used : (1) Between a verb and the pronouns je, moi, nous, twº, toi, vous, il, ils, elle, elles, le, la, les, lui, leur, y, em, ce, on, whenever they are used as nominatives to, or are governed by, that verb, and stand after it: vois-tu ? Seest thou? allons-y, let us go there (for to it). (2) With méme joined to a pronoun : elle- même, herself; soi-même, one's self. (3) Ci, lù, adverbial particles accompanying a substantive, pronoun, preposition, or adverb: cette pomme-ci, this apple; celui-lä, that one ; ci-devant, former or formerly; là-desgous, there- III, CleT. (4) In numerals, from 17 to 99, except when et is inserted between the tens and one : as quarante-deua, 42, but vingt et wn, 21 ; deua, cent quatre-vingt-diaſ-newſ, 299. (5) Between two or more Christian names belonging to the same person : Jean-Jacques Rousseau ; or double surnames: Prévost-Para- dol, de Dreway-Brézé, (6) Between the words which together desig- nate country, department, town or street : leg Pays-Bas, the Netherlands; les Alpes-Maritimes, Aia:-la-Chapelle, rue du Cherohe-Midi, etc. Remark.-The hyphen is no longer required between très and the following adjective or adverb, cºe as C.C.C or 9 cºnse e s r.s º º º: ºSºfºº gº - N& & º § EN HIP #: ºses § §º: º g gº C §ºśsºtº w o O'o e º Caº C C C Dixocºccº sº de Cº. º II. IT is somewhat remarkable that, while all other branches of education are conducted at the present day upon such improved bases, the teaching of writing should have made little advance—or even retrograded. Perhaps this may be due in some measure to the fact that the numerous subjects embraced in even the humblest school of to-day crowd penmanship out in some measure. In a lengthy newspaper controversy recently waged the blame was laid upon the necessity under which the scholar now labours of exten- sive note-taking. “Boys at School and youths at college,” we were told, “are now compelled to take such copious notes that they scribble with the greatest rapidity, in utter disregard to the formation of their letters, which they think unimportant, since no one reads the notes except them- selves.” There may be a modicum of truth in this ; but the more reasonable explanation lies in the fact that preceptors do not now find time to start the boy fairly in the right road. In the days of our fathers, the schoolmaster, himself invariably an excellent penman, had each morn- ing to “set” the copies of every scholar, and looked over the work done subsequently with the eye of an expert. Much care was taken that the scholar placed his hand and fingers in the correct position, and the dominie, with the cane or ferula behind him, made his regular perquisition of the rows of desks, and saw that his instructions were followed. Now the scholar is given a book with a E. heading, and erhaps with “pencilled” guiding #. . ſº ; but the onerous º duties of the teacher debar him, ng, however unwillingly, from exercising the ancient aróle of personal teaching, The following remarks upon this subject, made by the Civil Service Commissioners in their annual report (1864) are not only perti- nent in themselves, but convey such useful cautions to aspirants for official situations, that we do not scruple to reproduce them. “In out former reports we have observed upon the importance which we attach to good hand- writing, as one of the most useful accomplish. ments which a clerk can possess, and one which any young man has it in his power to acquire. We believe that the effect of our examination bas been, upon the whole, to improve the general style of writing for official purposes. There is, however, room for much . . . further improvement. In conse- º of the quence, probably, of the insuffi- cº: cient attention paid to the subject I'S s in schools, the quantity of bad handwriting which comes before us is still very great, and we are therefore unable, without causing in- convenience to the public departments by delay Writing not a feature of mo- dern education, PEWMAAVSHIP. 59 in supplying vacancies, to enforce so high a standard in this respect as we should desire. It is almost Superfluous to state that we do not demand or desire that the writing should be of any particular style, provided that it possesses the main characteristic of legibility. What we require, as candidates are invariably in- formed, is ‘the clear formation of the letters of the alphabet.” In the appendix to our fourth report, we printed a facsimile of documents written in one of the public offices ; and we have inserted tion of similar spec im ens. Representing, as they do, the or- dinary current work of the in th t; º - ºn: *~, co-º-º-º-º-o ºr cºe writers, they are o not given as free -6 exo 2^-Zy—º-22, from faults ; but we think to do with the peculiarity in question ; and possibly in the course of time the same cause may produce a greater uniformity in the hand- writing of the male sex.” We are not, how- ever, inclined to endorse the latter opinion. Boys have used steel pens for as lengthened a period as girls have done ; and, at present at least, there does not appear to be any fear of masculine handwriting, as a rule, lacking individuality or assuming Quill versus a typical form—with one excep- steel pens. tion. Any one who has atten- tively observed the specimens of handwriting * e 2 exhibited by £a-e CR-26-62 ~f~6-24 -z-o-f some advertis- ing writing- masters as the result of a cer- tain course of “lessons” must 2 have noticed that they will & a-e-a-2-e-º their curious show that the a-6-o-v-f 2C-2”.” 2^ of resemblance, essential quality both in angu- of distinctness larity and strag- may be obtained without the sac- rifice of other desirable ele- ments of a good official hand.” With regard to ladies' hand- writing, the Straggling an- gular style of the present day -* I. MoDEL OF HANDWRITING APPROvel» for Civil SERVICE. 4%). {^{2-vº C_2~ 7. 07 vº’ C-07-0-era Of glingness, to the feminine hand of the present day. That simi- larity is the re- sult of the same process—an in- judicious one, which we will speak by- and-by — being followed in —or perhaps it ~~~~ zó. / .. gº either case. In would be better " ~y. 24 *** fact, any one to say “the pass- ing day”—has completely de- stroyed all indi- vidualityin their *Y* * * 4 even-64- who has given the slightest at- tention to the history of the art of writing pen manship, is aware that and brought 3 J' _* z' © “angular hand” about a dead ź…T J’zºv, C3- ~~~~ Ve_&_ is older than level of sloping steel pens. Do- zigzags. In his ...; sº clever book on taught ucy “Letters and 2%. 2? Bertram, we 'Letter-writers,” 2. % o-ºº: gº learn in “Guy Mr. Seton re- Mannering,” the marks : “If the handwriting of the male sex is characterised by its indivi- duality, that of the ladies, on the other hand, appears to be no less remarkable for the very opposite quality—to wit, the painful uniformity of its style. Occasionally, no doubt, we meet with a lady's handwriting which is distinguished by its boldness and freedom ; but I think it cannot be denied that stiff and formal angularity has long been the prevailing characteristic. It is by no means improbable that the largely- extended use of steel pens may have something RIodern ladies' penmanship, 2. MoDEL of H ANDw RITING APPROVED For Civil SERVICE. graceful Italian h a n d ; b ut when, at the beginning of the present cen- tury, tutors of his earnest calibre had be- come Tare, writing-masters found it more easy to indoctrinate their pupils with the shambling piqué hand than the delicate curves and soft shading of the veritable Italian style of writing. In One of genial Charles Lamb's last letters addressed to his old schoolfellow George Dyer, are some quaintly amusing remarks on hand- writing : “You always wrote hieroglyphically,” he says: “you ever wrote what "I call a 60 THE UNI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Grecian’s hand. Your boy-of-genius hand and your mercantile hand are various. By your flourishes, I should think you never learned to make eagles or corkscrews, or flourish the governors' names in the writing-School; and by the tenor and cut of your letters, I suppose you were never in it at all. By the length of this scrawl, you will think I have a design upon your optics; but I have writ as large as I could, out of respect for them,--too large, indeed, for beauty. Mine is a sort of deputy- Grecian’s hand ; a little better, and more of a worldly hand, than a Grecian's, but still remote from the mercantile.” We will now proceed to the practical part of our duty ; our first step will be to ground the pupil in those elementary forms whose frequent practice is indispensable to the attainment of freedom of hand. Thence we shall proceed to analyses of text, half-text, etc., etc. Official styles, with special reference to Civil Service requirements, will follow in due Flººnentary course, to be in turn succeeded ; : by mercantile and ladies' hands; and a careful elucidation of the more useful or name n tal characters—as Old English, Engros sing, etc., etc.—will conclude our series. The position of the Writer at the desk or table is a matter of con- siderable im- portance, and zºv: 2.4% & ºft % Yºff º - & -- * : ** especially so —a desk, and at such a distance that the edge should be an inch or two from the bend of * * * the elbow when the arm is drawn Position of the against the side. The body should Pº" be kept nearly upright, resting very lightly upon the left arm, which steadies the framé, and the fingers of which also secure the paper or book which is being written upon. The seat must be placed in such proximity to the desk as to enable this position to be easily main- tained , and to obviate the writer's leaning forward. The feet must not be drawn up under the seat, but placed in advance of the body, and it is well if the toes are supported at a slight elevation above the heel by the aid of an inclined foot-rest. The right arm must be quite free and rest lightly on the desk near the elbow, which should be kept at a distance of about four inches from the side, or even closer if the lines of writing have to cover a very broad sheet. It must be understood that the freedom of the right hand is of the greatest importance to the acquirement of a good cur- sive hand. No part of the weight of the body m u s t b e th row n on the right hand or arm, which must be sup- ported by the third a n d fourth fingers mainly, while the m ove- ments of the pen are prin- cipally made § by the action ~ F of the thumb Position of right arm, to persons who have to pass many hours of each day there. Those who do so should not be satisfied with any desk or stool, but endeavour to so arrange them that the applianees suit the penman's height and quality of vision. Short-sighted people, it is almost needless to remark, should have a desk higher and rather * of more on the slant than that suited *** **, to those whose eyes are of normal character. The proper height of the desk is also indispensable for the preservation of the writer's health. Yet this matter is but too often much neglected by the precep- tors of youth, who often permit their pupils to stoop awkwardly over the paper, with their eyes close down to their knuckles. It must not be supposed that attention to these minutiae is a pedantic whim. On the contrary, if much time is spent in a stooping and unnatural posi- tion over the desk in youth, round shoulders, contracted chests, and the germs of pulmonary diseases, are the probable sequels; while the clerk who adheres to such an absurd attitude will be certain to find himself eventually the victim of dyspepsia and other distressing dis- orders. The penman should sit right in front of his HOW TO HOLD THE PEN. and first and second fin- gers, the hand, thus balanced, gliding meanwhile gently and equably along the paper. III. THE ARTICLES. THE article is called in German baá (jeſtäſed)tā- foort (Geshlechts'-nort), the gender-word ; it is also called ber 2|rtifeſ (Arr-tee"-kel). There are two articles in German— The definite, ber, bie, baá, THE, dare, dee, dass (like pahss, with the h very slightly accented), and the indefinite ein, eine, eim, A. like ine im'-e, like miner ime in pine, without the m and 7' (miner). GERMAAW. 61 It will be seen that the definite article, called ber beſtimmte (be-stim'-te) Qūctifeſ, like the French le and la, shows the gender of the word :— Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. ber 2pfeſ, bie Stabeſ, baá Ščaffer, dare App"fel dee Mah/-del, da83 Vas'-ser the apple the needle the water Remember that the a must not be pro- nounced as in hand, but as in father, part, card; when followed by two consonants, as in apfel, it is short; when followed by one, as in mäbeſ, it is long. In German words of two syllables, the accent is nearly always on the first syllable, except where that syllable is merely a prefix, thus: 2 pºefeſ, 9ta'-beſ, $gſ-ſer; but in words derived from the French, like baá šalent (tah- lent'), the accent is on the second syllable. The indefinite article does not indicate the gender of the word to which it is prefixed, for it has ein both for the masculine and the neuter. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. eim ºut eine Sölume ein pujm ine Hoot ein'-e Bloo'-me ime Hoon a hat a flower a fowl (cine to be pronounced like the letters ine in the word diviner; $8ſume like the word bloomer without sounding the 7'). The definite article is declined in the follow- ing manner:— SINGULAR NUMBER, Cases. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. Nominative bet bie baá, the dare dee dass (a short) Genitive bed bet beg, of the dess dare dess Dative betit bet bent, to the dame dare dame Accusative bett bte baá, the dame dee dass PLURAL NUMBER, Nominative bie, the dee Genitive ber, of the dare Pative ben, to the of all genders, * dane Accusative bie, the dee In the plural there is no distinction between the masculine, feminine, and neuter, so far as the article is concerned; the same is used for all. Thus bte pitte bie $ſumten bie $iiffner &ee Hüh'-to dee bloo'-men døe hilh'-nerºr would be the hats, the flowers, the fowls, though $5ut is masculine, ºbſume feminine, and pubit Ineuter. Certain pronouns are declined like the definite article:— bieſer bieſe bieſeó, this dee'-zerr dee'-ze dee'-zess fener fene feneé, that Ayai'-ner yai'-me yai -mess einiger einige einige6, some eye'-ni-gerr eye'-ni-ge eye'-ni-gess mandjer mandje mandjeć, many man'-cherr man'-che man'-chess feber jebe jebeó, each, every gyai'-derr yai'-de yai'-dess aſſer aſſe aſſeå, all al/-ler al/-le alſ-less The fe in fener, etc., like yai, or “yea” mean- ing “yes,”—the final e like the final syllable in vain-er with the r omitted; in aſſet the q is short before the double consonant. The indefinite article (a or any, called be: unbeftimmte 2ſrfifeſ (oom-be-stim'-te Ar-tee'-kel), is declined in the following manner :— SINGULAR NUMBER (it has no plural). Cases. Masculine. Feminine. Neuter. Nominative ein €the £ill, a $ne * i’-ne fine Genitive etmeg eimer eimeå, of a iſ-ness iſ-nerr '-ness Dative einem eimer cinem, to a 6'-mem. ^{-mer º'-mem. Accusative einen eime eim, a 'i'-nen iſ-ne $ºve The possessive pronouns mein, my, bein, thy, online dine ſein, his, its, ifft, her, unfer, out, euer, zºne, eerr, ^{m'-zer (ºn o'-err * e y 9 your, ifft, her, and certain other words, are de- eerr, clined like the indefinite article. STUDY FOR READING AND PRONUNCIATION. This little poem should first be studied with regard to the pronunciation; then the words should be separately committed to memory; and then short sentences should be formed by the learner from the lines: such as, A little boy fell in the brook—(Šin ſºmâbſcin fieſ in ben §ad, ; His brother hastened home–Čein 3ruber eiſte mad) ºatté, etc., etc. Roger Ascham, the old schoolmaster, Tightly asserted that languages were learned by imita- tion ; and therefore we cannot too frequently impress upon our readers the necessity of IMI- TATING the sentences they find in the reading lessons, and forming short sentences for them- Selves by using the words they meet with, in Various combinations. $) it 98 rit ber. dee Brüh'-de?"r." THE BROTHERS. (£6 fieſ ein &mièſcin' in ben $3ad, ess feel ine knayb’-line in dane bach, tº fell 3, §: in the brook, §cil unter , iſºm bie QBrüdfe brad). wile wºn'-terrb een dee brück-e b ahch Because under him the bridge broke. ©ein iſt'ſter §ruber ricf.” umb ſtºrie,” zine elt/-sterr broo-der” reef undº shree. His eldest brother cried and screamed, limb" ſant bor & dreſfen in bie &mied *(nºt zank fore shºrek'Kén in dee knee * On his And sank for terror (im) (the) knees. * Pronounced as in fine. 62 The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ©er impeite eiſte fort mad, $qué, dare tary'-te ileº-te fort nahah house The second turned away (to) home, limb tief bem $qter ſºmet! becaug wnt reef dane fah-terr shºnell her-ows'." And called the father quickly out. ©er füngſte ſprang' bem 3ruber” mad, dare yueng-ste sprang dame broo'-der ºach The youngest sprang the Brother after. limb 30g iſ m mutbig qué bent ºad, wnt §, een moot'-ich ouss dame bach And drew him boldly out of the brook. limb tröſtete ben f{einen $iifft: unt troes'-te-te dane kly'-nen vicht' . And comforted the little wight : •,øet ſlitſ, bag Saſſer beißt' bid, midt.” zy stilld dass was eer bilist dich nicht Be still, the water bites thee not. REMARKS ON THE PRON UN CIATION. a Note that the ii is to be pronounced like the French w in the word vertw. b In the words wºnter and wºnd the w must be pro- nounced as in the English “pull.” c In the German word und the final d is pronounced somewhat like t. - d In knie pronounce both the k and the n, as in the English word ‘Brecknock.” The word is here shortened poetically; it should be knie-e, , - * * e Herºus (out—literally out hither), herein (in), herab (down), hºrpor (forth), and other words compounded with her (hither), have the accent on the second Syl- lable. f Wicht. Note how the ch (to be sounded as in loch, the Irish och, as before stated) changes into gh in the English form of the word ‘wight.” In the same way the tierman Knecht (Knaicht), a servant, has become in English ‘knight,” die Bucht (Boocht), the bay, has become ‘bight,’ as in the Bight of Benin; from Recht (Raicht) and Macht (Macht) we have, ‘right’ and might,' etc. Thus the ch sound, difficult to pro: nounce in English mouths, has been first changed into the gh and then left unpronounced altogether; so that a writer has wittily remarked:— “In Freight and Fright, in Weight and Wight, In Right and Might, in Night and Light, GH has left his corpse in Sight ; His soul has long since taken Flight.” REMARKS ON THE WORDS. * Knäblein. The terminations chen and lein are called diminutives, because when added to nouns they give the meaning “little” to the noum. When they are used, the radical vowels a, o, u, are changed into il, Ö, ii, and the word, if masculine or feminine, becomes neuters Thus der Knabe (Knah'-be), the boy, becomes dag Rºmâblein, the little boy; der Bach, the brook, das Böchlein. the little brook: der Hund (u as in “pull”), the dog, das Hündchen or das Hündlein, the little dog; der Forb (Korrb), the basket (whence the word “corve’), das Körbchem or das Körblein, the little basket. The termination is preserved in the English “mannikin.” from the German Männchen. * In English we consider as the most important parts of a verb those by which we recognise and classify it —the name of the verb, the infinitive mood, the first person of the past tense, and the past participle. Thus to eat, ate, eaten; to rise, rose, risem. In German we adopt the same plan. Thus rief comes from rufen (roof-en), to cry or call; ich rief (reef), I called; gerufen (ge-roof’-en), past participle, called, * Schrie is the past tense from schreien (shry'-en), to cry; Ich schrie, I cried; geschrieen (ge-shree-em), cried. * Sprang is the past tense of another irregular verb– springen, sprang, gesprungen (u like in the English ‘pull’), to spring, sprang, sprung. ° dem Bruder is in the dative case, because it is govermed by the preposition mach (after), which goverms the dative. * Sei is the imperative or commanding mood of sein, to be. It is also written with a y—seyn and sey. ” Beiszt is the present tense of the verb beissert (bye’—ssen), to bite; Ich bisz, I bit; gebissen, bitten. Nicht is ‘not ”; the same word with an 8 added (nichts) is “nothing.” It will be seen how the English ‘maught was made from the German nichts, by softening the ch, and making it disappear in the un- pronounced gh. STUDY IN GERMAN CALIGRAPHY. We will now give these lines as they would appear in German writing-hand. In using them the following directions should be observed:— First, compare the lines separately with the words as given below, each in the English letters; then read them, one by one, covering up the English text-lines, till the German written characters are easily recognised ; then proceed to copy out each line, as you would write a copy in a copy-book, paying especial care to the formation of the letters, so that this little poem makes ten separate copies; then finally write the whole, as it stands below, in the form of a poem. The student will be astonished to find how Soon, in this way, the art of writing in German letters may be ac- quired. DIE BRüDER. ES fiel ein Weil unter ihm die Žzzz 2% Ž2% Sein altSter Bruder Knäblein Bach, Brücke brach ; 1I] den %22. 24.2% 2-Cº. 4%.4. 2* 2% 2”. Und sank WOT Schrecken in die rief und schrie Knie, EWG LISHI GRAMMAR. /*. zzazz. … 24.2% */ %2.4° Der zweite eilte fort nach Haus Und Tief den Water Schnell heraus; /2%. 2”% 2%rºy 2” –%.2%. */ Der jüngste Sprang %.” zºy 2, …” Und ZOg ihn muthig dem Bruder nach, ** 2%, -%24 8.UIS dem Bach, tröstete de |Und * Z. 244 2% “ Sei still, daS Evercise on the Foregoing Study. The student should now try to write the following exercise in German, without, in the first instance, looking at the German version, but leaving blanks where he is at a loss for words. Then, when as much as possible has been done, the exercise may be corrected, and missing words (if any) added from the German version subjoined. Write down, in German— A little boy fell into a brook. The bridge broke under him. His eldest brother screamed, and sank on his knees for fright. The second hurried and called quickly the father. The third sprang and drew the brother courageously out of the brook, and comforted him. Be still, the water bites thee not. German, Version. (śin Śēnēēſein fieſ in einen $80ſ). 3)ie Ime knayb'-line feel in iſ-nen bach. Dee §rüdfe braſſ, unter tºm. &eim aſteſter brück-e brach un'-terr eem. Zine el'-te-ster $3ruber ſtjrie unb fanf in bie Šēniee bor broo'-der shree wºnt zank in dee knee'-e fore ſdºretten. Øer 3mbette eiſte umb rief Shrek -ken. Dare tsvi/-te ile"-te unt reef ſtijneſſ ben $8ater. 3)er britte ſprang schnell dame fah'-terr. Dare drit'-te sprang umb 30g ben ºbtuber mutbig quá bem wnt tsoch darte broo'-der moot-ich ouss dame SBad); umb tröſtete iºn. ©et ſtiſſ, bag bach, unt troes-te-te een. Zey still dass SYaſſer beißt bid, midt. masſ-ser bihst dich nicht, kleinen Wicht : 44%. 4% º' Wasser beiszt dich nicht.” º §=# II. GRAMMATICAL TERMS : THE KINSHIP OF ENGLISH TO OTHER LANGUAGES. § 11. Definition of terms necessary. § 12. Divisions of grammar. 13. Orthography. 14. Syntax. 15. Etymology. ; 16. Accidence. 17. Beginning of English. . Teachings of comparative grammar. § 11. In dealing with grammar it is neces- Sary, above all things, that we should come to a clear understanding of terms, that we should endeavour to know what we are talking about, what we mean by the descriptive words and general names, which without some effort are apt to leave vague clouds in the mind. Several technical words of this kind have already been employed ; and as it will be impossible, indeed undesirable, to dispense with all scientific nomenclature, a little time may be usefully bestowed upon some of them at the outset. Owing to the circumstance that the science of grammar came to us from the classic nations, and that it was taught chiefly by the books of the Latin grammarians and through the means of the Latin language, the greater part of the terms employed about our words are Latin. The Romans brought grammar from the Greeks —Alexandria was its home—so that we still get a few terms from the Greek. Donatus, who taught grammar at Rome in A.D. 386, wrote a grammar which was so much in use in the 64 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, ecclesiastical schools that his name became identified with his work, and a domet became the name for a grammar through the middle ages; in a Household Book of 1466, we find a payment “for a donet for master Gorge, 12d.,” and Caxton mentions “donettis” as books in great demand from “George the booke- Sellar.” § 12. Grammar consists of three divisions— 1. Orthography. 2. Etymology. 3. Symtaa. To these some add, as we have seen, 4. Prosody. Analysis of sentences, and Parsing of nords, are but methods (though most valuable) of teaching grammar. § 13. ORTHOGRAPHY (from the Greek words orthos, correct, grapho, I write) means the cor- rect nºriting of words—i.e. correct spelling. This is the usual sense of the word in common parlance; a man who likes using fine-language will say of his friend that “his orthography is not quite correct,” meaning that he has made a mistake in spelling. Grammarians stretch the term further, and make it cover much in- formation on the alphabet, the properties and the sounds of letters. But, rightly, the last of these belong to phomology or phometics, the science of sounds of the human voice. § 14. SYNTAX (Gr. syn, together, tawis, ar- ranging), meaning the correct arrangement of words in sentences, and PROSODY (Gr. prosodia, a song), or the treatment of verse and versifica- tion, are terms that have not crept into com- mon use, probably because their subjects are not very commonly known and are not matter of every-day handling; they are therefore less liable to a double or mistaken meaning. § 15. ETYMOLOGY (Gr. etymos, true, logos, discourse, science) is the part of grammar that is most important, for it belongs to universal grammar; it is the part upon which the beginner spends most time, for without a true under- standing of the classification of words, how- ever elementary, he cannot advance a step further. The term, as used by grammarians, in- cludes three branches: (a) Classification, which tells us which are nouns, pronouns, verbs, etc.; (b) Infleasion, which tells us of the turnings or bendings of a word to adapt itself to various use, as love, loves, loved, loving, all different forms of one verb (see § 36); (c) Derivation, which teaches us how to trace back the history of a word, to find its original Toot and from what Source we have drawn it and its parts, in short, it tells of the formation of words. Now, it is quite evident that all these three branches are equally important, and necessary to the “true science” of words. Yet the word “etymology,” by a process of natural Selection, perhaps, has come to be restricted in ordinary parlance to the third of these inquiries; it is upon the tip of many a man's tongue to ask about some word that has caught his attention, “What is the etymology of that word 7” he desiring to get in reply some information as to the language it came from into English, and its original meaning. We have books which treat of this side of the subject alone—Dictionaries of English Etymology attesting to the popular if not scholarly use of the word in this sense ; and it must be said that it is hardly fair in modern grammarians, whose object is, if anything, to give us definite notions, and to take account of living speech, to talk about etymology and its various parts without in the least seeming to be aware of the restricted sense which the word bears in general use. Mr. Marsh, in his Lectures on Language, felt the difficulty, and Tightly thought it necessary to point out his selection. “The word,” says he, “is used in two senses, or rather, the Science of etymology has two offices. The one concerns itself with the ptimitive and derivative forms and significatious of words, the other with their grammatical inflexions and modifi- cations; the one considers words independently and absolutely, the other in their syntactical relations. In discussing the uses of etymology I shall confine myself to the first of these offices, or that which consists in investigating the earliest Tecognizable shape and meaning of words, and tracing the history of their subse- quent changes in form and signification.” (Lecture III.) § 16. Accidence (Lat. accidens, befalling) is a word that has been more familiar in Latin grammars than in English, in which, however, it is sometimes found. It is that part of grammar which treats of all the changes that can befall a word, by Spelling, by Inflexion (for example, run, ran ; tall, tallen', tallest), or in Derivation (as in man, manly, unmanly); it therefore includes orthography and etymology, but not syntax. Boys used to learn their first Latin out of a little elementary grammar which dealt with these parts, which thus gained the name of an accidence ; John Taylor, the Water Poet, says, “I never yet did learn mine acci- dence.” Dr. Johnson gives for “Accidence,” “the little book containing the first rudiments of grammar, and explaining the properties of the eight parts of speech.” But, at the present day, Historical Outlines of English Accidence includes the fullest range of inquiry into the formation of the English language that can be comprised within the bounds of orthography and etymology. The changes which the words go through are called accidents, the accidents not being essential to the word itself; it was in allusion to this sense that Ben Jonson said (see before, $9) that writing is but an accident to language. The Jönship of English to other Languages. § 17. The story of the English language is told, in its earlier centuries, by the story of the tribes and nations who eame over and con- quered the landl and the people in it. The beginning of English in England may be said to have been about the year 449 A.D., when the first settlement was made in this country by those who are commonly called our Anglo- Saxon forefathers. - § 18. But before entering into the detail of this history, we must go back still further and learn something of the pedigree of English, and of its place among the families of speech. We owe the power of doing this to the great wARD & LOCK's UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR G0NTAINS ALL WEGESSARY DIRECTIONS FOR ACQUIRING PROFICIENCY ; IW, THE FOLLOW/MG AMOWG 07HER SUBJEGTS : Algebra. Geology. Logarithms. ANATOMY : Geometry. Machines & Machinery. Animal. German Language. | Magnetism. - Comparative, German Literature. | MATHEMATIcs : ! Human. | Greek Language. Arithmetic. Arithmetic. Greek Literature. T1th Iſlet 10. | Algebra. | Astronomy. Health. Geome try. * i. Cy | Heat, Trigonometry, &c. º History: MECHANICAL PHILo. Chemistry. s Ancient. W. SOPHY : CoMMERCE: l Sacred. Mechanics. History. A Mediaeval. Hydrostatics. *. Practice. Modern. º Hydraulics. Drawing. t Great Britain and Pneumatics. Electricity. | - Ireland. Mensuration. Elocution. Hy drostatics. Meteorology. English Grammar. Italian Language. Mineralogy. English Literature. Italian Literature. _j Music. Ethnology. Land-surveying. NATURAL HISTORY: -\ ExPERIMENTAL PHILo- LANGUAGES : Mineralogy. a' SOPHY : Ancient— Geology. Magnetism. . Latin. Botany. Electricity. Greek. Zoology. Galvanism, % Modern— Animal Physiology. Heat. French. Human Physiology. Light. { German. Vegetable Physiology Chemistry. ł Italian. Counparative Ana- Sound. • W Spanish. tomy, &c. Meteorology, &c. &c. Latin Language. Perspective. FINE ARTs: Latin Literature. Physiology, Animal. Drawing. t Light. l Physiology, Human. Perspective. Pneumatics. Sketching from Na- LITERATURE : \ Reading. ! Ancient— Shorthand. Roman. Singing. Greek. Sketching from Nature, , , Modern— Sound. English. Spanish Language. French. Spanish Literature. German. Trigonometry. Italian. Writing. - Spanish. Zoology. PRICE. TwP:NTY-FIVE CENTs MONTHLY. v-, -T- -T-I some OPINIONS OF THE BRITISH PREss WARD AND LOCKS IliyGISăl This Work has been reviewed by a very large number of Newspapers and Literary and Educational Periodicals throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland, and in all cases favourably. The following are a few selections — * THE WORK IS EXCELLENT, AND IT IS TO BE HOPED IT MAY MEET WITH THE POPULARITY IT DESERVES.”—The A thematum. “We have waited to see the second part before expressing an opinion upon Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor; or, Self-Culture for all ' and find the promise of the opening more than fulfilled now that the subjects are beginning to advance, . . . . The various authors have evidently laboured to condense the greatest amount of information into their lessons, and while helping beginners, they in no way overlook the requirements of students who need higher instruction. The comprehensive excellence of the work is combined with cheap- ness, and thus it offers an undoubted boon to those who wish to enrich their minds and improve their position by self-culture.”—London Daily Chronicle. “We are pleased with this first part, and can imagine the wealth of advantage which many young students will gain from its use. It is well printed on good paper of a handy size. . . . . It is a very cheap and useful publication.”—The Christian World. “The first number is a storehouse of knowledge in itself, and at the first start a good selection of subjects are dealt with. The contributors, include some of the best known men in their various de- partments of knowledge. . . . . . The work pro- mises to be one difficult to excel as a means of imparting educational knowledge for everyone."— The Derby Telegraph. “We can heartily recommend this new publica- tion to all who are desirous of self-culture ; the contributions, as well as the illustrations, are all good.”—Sheffield Telegraph. “The work, which is well got up, is an important and valuable addition to the educational literature of the day.”—Bristol Mercury. “We do not hesitate to say that the ‘Universal Instructor,' when completed, will, to those who carefully study its pages, prove to be one of the greatest educational blessings which have emanated from any publishing firm. . . . . We should rejoice to know that this most valuable work was to be found in every family.”—Derbyshire Gazette, “We feel assured that the publication will be productive of much good, as it appears to be admir: ably adapted to the requirements of all classes of students.”—Western Daily Mozcury. -º- IISIII(101. * -- - “It promises to be a work of undoubted merit, and of real value. . . . . We predict for it much acceptance by those who desire to acquire learning and to become well-informed men."—The Educa- tional Chronicle. “All the subjects are treated in an easy, simple, clear, comprehensive manner; and from a careful perusal of the present part, we can safely recom- || mend the work as one of sterling merit.”—Dundee Courier. “The more we see of this admirable work the more we think of it. Every subject is made so clear, and is expressed in so simple and definite language, that every one may learn himself. We know no better book for self-cultivation, and it will form a good library in itself when completed.” – Dundee Advertiser. “We cannot too highly praise ‘Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor.' . . . . It will be a treasure to all who wish to improve their knowledge; and the excellent character of the publication is fully main tained in the current issue,”—Boston Guardi “A more useful work than this no maſſ: provide for a son or a daughter of studious tu The Chelmsford Chronicle, “So worthy of popular estimation does it s to us, that we are convinced that if one number purchased the whole series will be taken, and V. cannot be too highly spoken of.”—East Anglian Daily Times. -- “The more we see of this periodical, the mo: deeply are we impressed with its merits.”—D fries Advertiser. “There will never cease to be many fiel abundant scope for self-instruction, and large number of students to whom suc' be a welcome boon.”—School Board “One of the most valuable publication ever issued fron, the press as a help an young men in mantal education is Lock's Universal Instructor.' . . . . Th admirably and popularly edited, and ou universally appreciated."—The Chºisłia: “The size is to our mind the best a that could be chosen, while the print, trations are beautifully done, and t recalls in form that marvel of chea ‘Scribner's Monthly.’”— The Farm, º:- “ a * : . . ~ 5-T = < * a "z" ºr ºr -º --~~ .** * -- - N * Fº - - ~< ==== ºr sº *ALCEBRA * > || ANATO44- ºr - ARCHITECTURE || | ARITH METIC tº | ASTRONOMY -. B10CRAPHY cº- BOOK-KEEPIN C. CHEMisTRY & 1. tºº ; 3. C § : # : # . * * > *. § º . . |: º # º CEO GRAPHY - CEO LOGY - CEO METRY .. GERMAN - GRANAMAR . . GREEK - - - - H STORY - TALIAN ºr . . LAT N . . . º ºp C C s' C. c. - C Loci C . . . MRCNET15D-1 : *ECHANICS - NAENSURATION MINERALOGY MUSIC * NAVICATION ... PAl NT INC & PENMAN SH 1 P - PERSPECTIVE * PHYSICS • PHYSOLO CY - © - ** ſº SPANISH ºr STERM. ENGINE SURV EY! N C * Triconometry|| w" " - BOTANY - - - - || | , "Wes. c. LocaRITHMS . . . METEoRolody. I short-HAND . . "ABOVE ALL THINGs study." = < e º sº tº a Cl DºSºº. §§ º SSSSSºśRºº. º i : : ſº , --> ** 2." w/ ºf jiny. LLUSTRATED, AGENTS FOR AMERICA; \ THE INTERNATIONAL NEws company, 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New York. - ~ - • * * * * * * ***** * * * * * * * ********~~~~ *=------- ----- º-º-º: - - - - - - - - * *-* * *- - - - - - ----------------- ------- - - ºw. L = -\ …------- - * *- : - - - - - - - - - --> -- sº - - - - - - - - 4 - -- wºw - - ----- --- ºr ºr "-" ~rº-ºººº, sº-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-- “...º.º.ºrrºrs:-->- - ----- - -, - — Tomplete in 35 • . . . . ( , -- -n. THE NEW SERIAL FOR SELF-EDUCATORS. Forming the Cheapest and most Useful Work ever issued for the People. PRICE 25 CENTS, MONTHLY. * W A R D & L O C K 'S NIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR Or, Self-Culture for All. *...* With PART I. is PRESENTED GRATIS a Valuable CHART OF THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, and with PART III, a CHART illustrating the INTELLECTUAL AND IMATERIAL PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. RECOGNISING the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exists for carefully prepared literature suited to the wants of Self-Educators, WARD, LOCK & Co. have prepared a Serial Work of an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete Encyclopædia of Alearning, meeting the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such features as will, the Éublishers confidently believe, give it a marked superiority over every similar undertaking. The comprehensive. mess of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illustrations, the convenience of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominent position. IT CANNOT BE TOO OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, for, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. Hence naturally arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on better terms with those around, not only in business but in social life 2 This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR undertakes to anSWer. / THE UNIVERSAL, INSTRUCTOR is nothing short of a University at Home, and will admirably suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of timé, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. y At the same ume, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR does not overlook the wants of those more fortunately situated. It contains exact information on every subject likely to be useful to those able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. * THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR cover the whole field of knowledge They extend, as will be seen from the list given on page 3, from the most elementary to the most advanced, and, taken together, form a perfect system of Intellectual Culture. The latest thought of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, find adequate representation ; and whilst we would avoid pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in affirming that our lessons will prove eminently lively and interesting. THE WRITERS will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics with which they deal, and in nothing, the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, is the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. u TIE ILLUSTRATIONS are to be numbered by hundreds, and may be depended upon as accurate and authentic. BUT THE OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is not only to impart learning and make well- informed men. It has been kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable as to lead wiser and better lives. . The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, endeavours to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making students, it fails to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. SUCH, then, being the OBJECTS and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the Publishers confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not 2—in the elevation of the people the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will be slow to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations so elevated. “@hube all thingá, #tung. Úbetjer fur the gaite of Icariting ur fur any other reagnu, study. Fur tubateñºr the mutifleå that impel putt at first, unu will term gami Inºr âtung fur it; uſun gaitz.” 13: For Zist of Subjects included in THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, see Aage 3 - •, and for Opinions of the British Press, see page 4 of this cozer., | NEW YORK : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY., EWGLISH GRAMMAR. and enthusiastic scholars who have raised up the sciefice of Comparative Grammar or Com- parative Philology, the knowledge of the fami- lies of languages. For ages men have moticed in a fragmentary way the likenesses that existed between some tongues; we may ourselves, in studying a foreign.language—German, for in- stance—have been struck with the nearness of many words to our own : Ich habe mein Haus challenges comparison with “I have my house,” Du hast deine Mutter with “Thou hast thy mother,” and we may see that in many points English resembles German,—so much so that some have mistakenly supposed that English has come from German. The Frisian language, spoken by the dwellers along the coasts of the North Sea, between the Weser and the. Elbe, in Friesland, Holstein, and Sleswick, offers * tº T ſº. ' ' ' 65 - Lºs" Such close resemblance could not have come by chance ; and the examination of such facts not unnaturally led to the idea that one lam- guage might have grown out of another. Further study revealed that languages are related to one another in groups and in fami- lies. How account for this Did, for example, the Germans ever come over to teach us their language 7 Did the English at some remote period pass over to Friesland to borrow the grammar of the Frisian people History tells us that this was not so; and we therefore turn” to Comparative Philology to solve the question. The speculations and the studies of philoso- phers, busy with the languages of Europe and Asia, received at once a direction and an im- petus from the discovery, at the close of the last century, that Sanskrit, the ancient lan- ºf: - . . . # - - - ºiſºriº . Tº - - fºr £º 1* * - rººf: - - - - §ſl!'l ºf i'ji ſitſ f iſºlºſ'ſ ††:########## ######### § jº :# • * * * * * * * * : * ~ * > . . * { * | * : * is i < 1 < * * * * * * * *jº is ~. -- }}| f : … - # * * * **, WN - - §§§ -> $ºyº Žº Ş §§§ # §§§Júl jºjº. g §§. ; §: & ºs § lº, & § | f º §º ass-ºf ºğl. §§ § gº § §ºiáH=#|ºliº §: ~ $–3 ** { #lº: º 3º ; : # ; £ºº º tº-º-º-º: §§ 3 º * º § 3. ‘s: ºš. §§§ # § : £º º §§ tº §§ sº ſº fºr ſº ſº; º: §§§ tº & ºt|f|{{ § X * fi in is: wº º: § º §§§ {{}}| #|lºft; §§§ {; alsº it } |||}|†† º: w! §§§: º | § # § § ºl º £ººrs: º §§ §§ § § ift §§ #: º iš º º º Bº º §§ - t * SN3 º *. W } šjāTTTTT ~ * - * f §§2–1–)— Šºš ' - *—l—l- Sº §§r 1-r-i-F Hº ? i § §§ l T–ſ- §§ | -- a-mºs §§º-3- ! | §§Tii.I. Tº...TI §§ºiſill' tº 'tº . . . l'ºr', jīlūjºr ūſà Q º SNSSºº S §§§§ | li ºff hi; lºſſ tºº, tº =sº-º-º-aux- ENTRANCE To THE KING's PALACE AT NINEVEH (see Anc. Hist.). another example. Read aloud the modern Frisian poet's lines, - “Lijk az Gods sinne swiet uns wråd oerschijnt, Lijk az de mijlde rein elk eker fijnt.” Like as God's sun sweetly our world o'ershines, Like as the mild rain ilk [each] acre finds, where many of the words strike the ear as near to English. Indeed, there is an old rhyme which says, “Bread, butter, and cheese, . Is good English and good Friese.” Sq, again, an Englishman going to the parts where Flemish is spoken can often make him- self partially understood, through the similarity in words and phrases used by both — • “Wat nieuws P Myme, dogter, staet op. Hoe, myne moeder, is het zoo laet?” are recognized without difficulty as :— g What news? - My daughter, stand [get].up. How, my mother, is it so late? WOL. I. s & : guage of the Hindús, which had even ceased to be spoken three hundred years, before Christ, was closely allied to Latin and Greek. Up sto that time scholars had supposed Latin and Greek to be children of the Hebrew lan- guage. “But no philologer,” wrote Sir William Jones, “could examine the Sanski it, Greek, and Latin, without believing them to have sprung from some common source, which, per- haps, no longer exists.” It was found further that the Persian, Gothic, German, and, other languages, had many points in common with the Sanskrit, thus linking together a large number of the tongues of Europe and Asia—a thing undreamt of in former theories. Ancient and modern languages were now seen to fall into their tº ue relationships, and their rank in the order of time became apparent. The story of the workers who, with untiring patience and energy and learning, dug in this new garden of knowledge, planting and tending the fair tree, must be read in the eloquent pages of R 66 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Professor Max Müller, who, while gathering to- gether the great names of Jones, Grimm, Bopp, Humboldt, Burnouf, and others, gives to the German poet, Frederick Schlegel, the merit of the first insight' into the consequences of the study of Sanskrit. “It surely required somewhat of poetic vision to embrace with one glance the . languages of India, Persia, Greece, Italy, and Germany, and, to rivet them together by the simple name of Indo-Germanic. This was Schlegel's work ; and, in the history of the . intellect, it has been truly called ‘the dis- covery of a new world.’” (Lecture IV.) II. ETHNOLOGY and Comparative Philology—the science of the physical characteristics of the races of men, and of the comparative relations of the languages of the world—have assumed definiteform and arrived at their conclusions only in modern times. We briefly indicate the more important results which have been arrived at, and which are generally accepted by physiolo- gists and scholars. The Asiatic, European, and Northern African races—beyond which for Our present purpose (an inquiry into the early his- tory of the great nations of antiquity) it is not necessary to go—are grouped into, the A/ryan (or Indo-Germanic), Tura'nian (or Mongolian), and Shemiſtic races. The first traces of the ARYAN race are found Evidence of Ethnology and Philology. in Central Asia, eastward of the Caspian Sea, and north of the Hindoo Koosh Moun- tains. From this centre migrations took place,, probably impelled by the necessity arising from increased numbers, the movement beginning about 2,000 years be- fore the Christian era. Large numbers moved to- wards the north-west, probably reaching Europe; others crossed the Indus, and penetrated into the great peninsula of Southern Asia; and the three higher castes of India still claim to be Aryan, as superior to the lower or subjugated castes, the Sudras. From India the Aryans reached Persia, and others settled in Asia Minor, from which a further migration took place to South and Central Europe. The oldest existing records in a language derived from an Aryan stock are the sacred books of the Hindoos, the Weds, and the Laws of Manu, written in Sanskrit. The word Aryan is taken from the Sanskrit ārya, “honourable,” “ of good repute.” In the Weds, Arya is the name by which the believers in the gods are distinguished, in op- position to their enemies, who are called Dāsas. Iran, the old name assumed by the dominant races of Persia, is supposed to be derived from the same root. Scientific philologists are agreed that seven recognized groups of lan- The Aryan Race. guages, with their dialects, are clearly branches . of the old Aryan stock, many of the words being identicalor very nearly so, and the general grammatical peculiarities having great affinity. These groups of languages are the Sanskrit, the Teutonic, the Slavo-Lithuanic, the Celtic, the Italic (including Latin), the Greek, and the Iranian or Persian, Another well-defined race, with language ex- hibiting marked peculiarities, is the TURANIAN, Or, as named by some ethnolo- e gists, Scythian, Mongolian, and The ſuranian Üral-Altaic. The term Turanian * is derived from the Persian Turan, or land of the northern wandering tribes, in contra- distinction to Iran, which, as we have seen, was applied to the Aryan people. The Turanian is also known as the Accadian race, and is divided by ethnologists into five principal groups, now located in different parts of Europe and Asia. 1. The Finno-Hungarian, or Ugrian branch, the most western and highly cultured members of the family, including the Hungarians, or Magyars; the Bulgarians, the people of Eastern Russia, and the Finns and Laps. 2. The Samoyedic branch, of Northern Asia, of low development, 3. The Turks, or Tartars, a well-known and energetic people of Asia and South-eastern Europe. 4. The Mon- gols, inhabitants of the present territory, of Mongolia, the slopes of the Altaic Mountains, and, in groups, the lands bordering on Persia, India, and China. 5. The Tungusian, or Mant- choo' branch, including the present dominant Tace of China. The languages of all the various peoples, and the innumerable dialects, have a clear affinity with, and are consequently derived from, the Accadian language, found on the most ancient inscriptions yet discovered on the site of the oldest empires known to history, and the lands watered by the Tigris and Eu- phrates. A third great race, the SHEMITIC, or SEMITIC, including the Hebrews, Phoenicians, Syrians, and Arabs, undoubtedly, on the * * * testimony of all acknowledged The Shemitic records, had its early home in the 8. C6, Same part of Asia, and there, by the aid of philological Science, which traces back lan- guages step by step to Original stocks, and of ethnic science, which similarly traces physical peculiarities, we are justified in placing the birth-place of nations. A most important addition to accurate know.' ledge of ancient history has been afforded by the study of the remaining monu- ments of Egypt and Assyria, and ... Ancient the discovery of the mode of £emains and deciphering the hieroglyphical and Inscriptions, cuneiform inscriptions, which have been found to contain records of the greatest historic value. For many centuries Egyptian inscriptions had been known to Europeans, but their meaning Was a mystery. No clue could be obtained by which the symbols could be translated into any known speech. . In 1799, the French discovered near Rosetta, in Egypt, at one of the mouths of the Nile, a mass.of black basalt (now in the British Museum), on which was The Rosetta an inscription in three languages * —hieroglyphic (that singular compound of © ANCIENT HISTORY." figures of animals, unintelligible signs and groups, in oval surroundings), the enchorial, or written language of the old Egyptians, and Greek. The last was intelligible enough to scholars, and it was fairly supposed that the others were only versions of the same inscrip- tion. The clue thus afforded was eagerly fol- Howed up by the French savant, M. Champollion, and the English Dr. T. Young, who succeeded, after laborious examination, in obtaining the key to the hitherto hidden hieroglyphics. The study was taken up with avidity by French, German, and English scholars, and now the Obelisks and temples, the pyramids and sarco- phagi of Old Egypt no longer conceal the bistoric records of the great kingdom of the Nile land. Even more remarkable, perhaps, have been the discoveries made by M. Botta, Mr. Layard, Assvri and Mr. George Smith, in the A: huge mounds of the Tigris valley. * They have literally unearthed the buried Nineveh, and other cities of the past; discovered palaces and sculptures, bricks of burnt clay, covered with inscriptions, histori- cal, biographical, and r - 67 —º further progress was made until 1835, when Sir Henry Rawlinson examined and copied the famous inscription of Behistun, in Persia, en- graved on the perpendicular side of a lofty mountain, 300 feet above the level of the plain, and only reached with great difficulty. It was found that there were three inscriptions in different forms of the cuneiform alphabet (now known as Persian, Median, and Babylonian), varying in some respects, but partaking of the same general character. With indomitable perseverance Rawlinson studied these inscrip- tions, and was at length Tewarded by being enabled to translate them, and ascertain, with the aid of his knowledge of the Persian lan- guage, the sound-value of each character, and gain a knowledge of the grammātical construc- tion. As in the case of the Egyptian hiero- glyphs, the study was eagerly followed up by foreign and English'scholars; and the wonder- ful collections of Assyrian antiquities, which are shown in the Parisian Louvre, the British Museum, and other museums, have supplied material for an extensive knowledge of early Assyrian history, literature, legend and art. We are enabled, by scientific; brought to Europe thousands of Ymagnific ent and EI ºpsº ºf the aids we have de- scribed, to arrive at Some clear conception curious remains of old Assyria, and shown us Hº Hää, º ſº; of the condition of the human race in the times the people, in their habits as they lived, their literature, amuse- * [r-HºH-H PE-ſ) preceding the estab- lishment of the earliest ments, Science, and achievements. As far back as 1618, HT3Hºp H| E = }} events to be recorded. We have very percep- tible traces, revealed been noticed among the ruins of Perse- polis. Here, and also im our previous article {p. 31), are specimens of the now familiar forms to which the name was given. In 1674, M. Chardon, a French traveller, copied at great length some of the inscriptions. In 1700, Thomas Hyde gave considerable atten- tion to the subject, and at length decided that the “so-called” inscriptions were merely fanci- ful designs, efforts to obtain an ornamental effect by variation of groups of wedge-shaped figures. Others supposed they were only acci- dental chippings made by masons, and One German investigator decided that the marks were made by worms. The elder Niebuhr was convinced that the marks were alphabetical in character, and other continental scholars agreed with him, although unable to gain any clue to the meaning. In 1802, George Frederick Grotefend, an eminent philologist of Hanover, announced that he had been abie to trace a complete cuneiform (wedge-shaped) alphabet; and it is worthy of notice that his discovery was announced at the very sitting of the Göttingen Academy at which Christian Gottlieb Heyne described the newly discovered method of reading the Egyptian hieroglyphs. Little ClONEIFORMI CHARACTERS. by the study of lan- . guage, of energetic tribes with wandering habits—and consequently without any settled form of government—in the highlands of Central Asia and the rich plains through which the great rivers, the Tigris and Euphrates, found their way to that great inlet of the sea now known as the Persian Gulf. The Hebrew Seriptures, the oldest of all literary records, make us acquainted with great hunters and warriors who founded towns, and patriarchs, or heads of pastoral tribes, mostly members of one family, who owned flocks and herds in the districts variously men- tioned as Shinar, the land of the Chaldeans, or Mesopotamia; and we can readily imagine, for it is in strict consonance with human experience, how the personal ascendency of strong and able men subdued weaker natures, and so established the relations of ruler and subject, and how the necessity of mutual assistance and protection caused the aggre- gation of population in fortified cities. It is necessary, before entering on special historic notices of the great historic empires, to describe briefly the remarkable district in which they were situated, North of Arabia, Geographical situation of the early empires. 68 * THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. - --------> ----------" -" w and between Syria and Persia, is a broad plain watered by the Euphrates and Tigris, which unite at Korra, forming the Shatt-el-Arab, which falls into the Persian Gulf. The Euphrates, the modern El Frat, the most westerly of the rivers, is formed by the junction of two streams both rising in the mountains of Armºnia, and uniting in lat. 38° 58"N., long, 38° 30'E. The Tigris, rising in the north-west of Kurdistan, about ten miles east of the Murad, or eastern branch of the Euphrates, is, at Mosul, about 160 miles from the sister stream. Near Bagdad, the distance between the two rivers is not more than sixty miles; but they again diverge, and then approach, the streams uniting as above mentioned. The Tigris is swifter and deeper, and has a greater volume of water, than the Euphrates, and the latter river has low banks, fold.” The country, so favoured by mature, extended north from the Persian Gulf for more than 300 miles, and had an area of about 23,800 square miles. The head-waters of the Gulf have in late times receded nearly 120 miles, giving a proportionately larger area, to the districts with which the modern Turkish province of Irak-Arabee is nearly identical. In the valley between the two great rivers, and especially near the upper waters of the Tigris and the point of junction of the streams, are the huge mounds, so long passed unobserved by travellers, but which have buried for cen: turies the secrets of the annals of the two great empires. The accompanying illustration re- presents one of the great masses, now partially excavated, near the site of the famous city of Babylon. floods being not unfrequently the result. The Tigris is mentioned in the Old Testament as Hid- dekel, and on its banks were Nineveh and other famous cities of antiquity. The great alluvial plain, of which the Tigris is the eastern bound- ary, and which extended between the two rivers and eastward of the Euphrates, was the Chaldea of the ancient world, the land of Shimar and Mesopotamia of the Hebrew record. Generally Chaldea was considered as the more southern part of the plain, and Mesopotamia as the northern, but the distinction was not strictly preserved. The fertility of the soil was remark- able. A spot near the jumction of the two great rivers is one of the traditional sites of the Garden of Eden ; and Herodotus, who traversed the district, says, “Of all countries that are known, there is none that is so fruitful in grain, of which it yields commonly two hundred- II. THE LATIN ALPHABET, PRONUNCIATION, AND ACCENTUATION. LET us now begin by observing that— The Latin alphabet is the same as the Eng- lish without the letter n, which was repre- sented by v (as in our English word mine, coming from the Latin vánum). The Vowels, or letters which sound by them- selves, are a, e, i, o, u, y, but e and w are: semi-consonant-Vowels. - I, A TIA/. . . f The Consonants, or letters which sound only Kvith vomyels, are— The Mutes, b, c, d, g, k, q, p, and t. The Liquids, l, m, n, r. The Spirants, f, h, j, S, 1. The Double Consonants, X (= Cs) and Z ( = ds). s ( K, 2 and z are generally found in words of a Greek origin. There are six diphthongs (double vowels); three common—ae (32), oe (Ce), au ; and three uncommon—ei, eu, ui. The quantity of syllables in Latin pronun- ciation, when short, is marked , as régit ; when long, , as māśćt. - A vowel is short generally before another vowel, and long before the double consonant or two consonants; while all diphthongs are long. - §serve that every syllable and every vowel and consonant in a Latin word is pronounced— not as in English, where letters are often silent in sound ; thus, in religionem you must not. pronounce it as if it wer; four syllables, or as 1 2 4. . . the English “re-li-gious-ness,” but as if it were, as it is, five syllables, each distinct, as 1 2 3 4 5 re-li-gi-o-mem. . It is very important to mark this. * In words of two syllables, the Latin accent is on the first—as mºsa, a muse. In words of three syllables or more, the Latim accent falls on the last but one if the syllable is long, as Românus, a Roman, or on the last syllable but two if the last syllable but one is short, as Dóminiţ8, the Lord. The most approved form of pronunciation in Latin, as most in harmony with that of the ancients in the time of Cicero, is as follows:— Latin English a in father. a in villa. * - ai in pain. ,, . at In pann. ai in pain. e in men. ,, . . in machine y 7 in pin. , , o in glory. 5 * 0 in not. 5 § w in rule. * 3 ^{ in full. on in pomyer. 3 y ow in you. $ 3 ei in feint. ,, 7-66 in weed. ? ) Ä in Kate. 3 y g in give. S in sin. y 5 t in caf, sometimes tsh, but never sh as in nation. . s: j : :- ,, . y in year. v and nº. . : : y € u ,, el Ule c, ch (hard) g 5 y 8, Ul S , t (ratio) 5 y V F. j } Observe also that the final d approached a t sound ; that 7' always trilled, and S was always sharp, as in hiss—not as in his, like a z. Take as examples of Latin pronunciation— Pronounce 3.S not as cerno, crevi kerr-no, kreh- sur-no, krge- wee vie. fägis fah-geese fay-jis. fieri fee-érr-ee fire-eye. infra, een-frah in-fray. Jövis yo-wis joe-vis. natio nah-ti-O nay-shi-O. paucae pow-kae paw-see. urbs OOTrps urbz. scire skee-reh sire. veni, widi, weh-nee, wee- vee-nigh, , vie- vici. dee, wee-kee die, vie-sigh. Cicero Kikero Sisero. You Ought always to bear in mind that, as the ending of a word in Latin for the most part determines its meaning, and , always so in nouns, verbs, adjectives, you must be careful to lay some kind of stress upon it, to distin- guish it from other forms of the same word, which bear very different senses. Let us illustrate this by a few examples: leffé means in Latin by a law, or mith a law, being the ablative case of lea: ; but legi means to or for a law, being the dative case of lea, law. Then in verbs we have regós, thou maySt Tule, but reges, thou shalt or wilt rule—two different tenses formed by two different termina- tions, though somewhat alike in form. Further, Temember the rule in pronouncing Latin that it has no silent e as we have, as in serve. Now, the word serve in Latin means “O slave ” and would be pronounced as two syllables, not as one syllabie—namely, ser-vé. We mention this because it is the most common and the most natural of all errors with beginners in Latin. Questions for Self-Earamination. What is the difference between the Latin and the English alphabet 2 What do you mean by vowels, and what by consonants' Mention the different classes of consonants and the diphthongs in Latin. Give the signs of a long and a short pronunciation of a Latin word. Is every part of a word sounded in Latin 7. Give examplés. Give the rules, for accent in Latin. How do you pronounce the Latin words wide, vive, rege, conditionem 2 What is the correct pronunciation of , the final d ? Write out the correct pronun- ciation of the following words: Cicero, Jovis, in- fra, natio. Give the English equivalent sounds for the Latin (, á, é, é, i, i, and the diphthongs au, eu, and ei. What is the more correct pro- nunciation of the Latin c, ch, and g, with the English equivalent sounds ! How were r and s pronounced by the old Romans ? Why should you lay a kind of stress upon the termination of Latin words ' Give examples, III. ' THE PARTS OF SPEECH IN LATIN. NUMBER, CASE, AND GENDER. There are in Latin eight parts of speech : Substantive, Adjective, Pronoun, Verb, Adverb, Preposition, Conjunction, and Interjection. Of these the Substantive, Adjective, and Pronoun are declined ; the Verb is conjugated ; but Adverbs, Prepositions, Conjunctions, and Inter- 70 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. jections are neither declined nor conjugated —i.e., undergo no change in their form. The Substantive, or the Noun, names a thing or person, as carmen, a song, Virgilius, Virgil. The Adjective names the quality, as sapiens homo, a mise man, niger homo, a black man. Sapiens and miger are here adjectives. The Pronoun stands for, or points out, the Substantive or Adjective, as, ego, I; haec manus, this hand. Ego and hac are here Pronouns. The Verb states what a thing or person is, what it does, or what it suffers; as, rea: EST homo, the king is a man ; moa. NOCET, the night is injurious. Here est and nocet are Werbs. The Adverb marks manner, time, place, as BIS dat qui CITo dat, he gives twice who gives quickly. Here bis and cito are both Adverbs, qualifying the Werb. The Preposition marks relation towards the Noun, as currit AD urbem, he runs to the city. Here ad is the Preposition. The Conjunction joins together words and clauses, as Virgilius ET Horatius, Virgil and Horace. Here et is the Conjunction. The Interjection marks an exclamation, as O / formose puer, Oh! beautiful boy. Here 0/ is the Interjection. Observe that there is no article in Latin, but the definite article may be sometimes rendered in Latin by a pronoun, as hic, this. There are two Numbers in Latin—the Singu- lar, denoting one object or one person, as homo, man; and the Plural, denoting more than one, as homines, mem. Datin, like English, you will observe, makes its plural by changing the form of the word, as in English man becomes men in the plural (by an internal vowel change), or else by an addition to the word: thus as in English we have boy, in the plural boys, so in Latin the singular for boy is puer, and the plural is made according to the regular form by the addition of i, as pueri, boys. There are six Cases (falls or endings—casus in Latin means a fall or ending) to Latin nouns, pronouns, and adjectives, as well as participles declined like adjectives, which give the word a variation of meaning. These cases are the Nominative, the Vocative, Accusative, Genitive, Dative, and Ablative. (1) The Wominative (or Naming) Case an- swers to the question Who? or What? and marks the subject of the sentence, as AVIS canit, the bird sings. (2) The Vocative (or Addressing) Case marks the person addressed, as O magister, O master. (3) The Accusative (or Objective) Case answers to the question Whom ? or What 7 as video MAGISTRUM, I see the master. (4) The Genitive (or Possessive) Case an- swers to the question Whose? or Of what? as PUERI liber, the boy's book. * (5) The Dative (or Attributive) Case answers to the question To whom 7 or To what? as cano laudem DEO, I sing praise to God. . (6) The Ablative (or Instrumental) Case answers to the question. By whom 7 or By what? as GLADIO interfectus est, he was killed by the snord. Substantives , and • Adjectives have three Genders—Masculine, Feminine, and Neuter, The general rules for Gender in Latin Nouns 3.Te— . (1) That nouns denoting trades, professions, months, winds, mountains, and rivers, are masculine. (2) Nouns denoting females, countries, is- .lands, towns, trees, virtues, vices, and qualities, are feminine. (3) Indeclinable nouns are neuter. This, remember, is the determination of the gender from the meaning of the word; there is another way of determining gender by the ending of the word in the nominative case, according to the declension to which it belongs, and this we shall notice further on as we give the Latin declensions one by one. The gender of adjectives and participles depends on the substantive understood or expressed, with which they are made to agree—that is, what- ever gender the noun is, the adjective in agreement must be precisely the same, and no other : if the noun be masculine, the adjective must be masculine; if the noun be feminine, the adjective must be feminine ; and if the noun be neuter, so must the adjective. Thus, we say in Latim, BONUS homo, a good man, when the adjective bonus is masculine, to agree with its masculine noun homo, but BONA 'mulier, where boma is feminine, to agree with its feminine noun mºulier, and BONUM Tegnum, a good kingdom, where bonum is neuter, to agree with regnum, its neuter noun. As a rule, remember us is the general mascu- line ending of adjectives and nouns, a is their forminine ending, and wºn is their neuter ending. , Questions for Self-Eramination. How many parts of speech are there in Latin 7. What parts of speech are declined, and what not declined ? What do you mean by declining 7 Define the different parts of speech, and give examples of each of them. How is the want of an article supplied in Latin 7 How many numbers are there in Latin 7 What is the singular and what the plural number ? Give a Latin word in each. Is the Latin plural exer formed, like the Eng- lish plural, by a change in the body of the word, and by a change at the end of the word 7 Give an example of each. What do you mean by gender 7 How many genders are there in Latin' Give a list of the different kinds of nouns which are generally masculine, a list of those generally feminine, and a list of those generally neuter. What two methods are there of determining gender in Latin' What is it that fixes the gender of an adjective or participle? What is generally the masculine ending, the feminine ending, and the neuter ending of the Latin nouns and adjectives? Give examples of this. What is the gender of the following Latin words? and give your reasons for your answer: nihil, nothing (an indeclinable word); Aprilis, April; Palatinus, Mount Palatine ; Britannia, Britain ; Roma, Rome; Tiberis, the Tiber; poeta, a poet; domi- ºw8, a lord; musa, a song; regnum, a king- dom; Lesbos, the island Lesbos; veritas, truth; ebrittas, drunkenness; Tullia, Cicero, Virgilius; 80riba, a scribe, * PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY s:swººs ººººº...º: º “. º >\ Nºs. s." Rºº *º º Nº. º, Cº. * *, ~ * . . Nº ºr ; ºf zºº f | s== Nº- … " . . " sº °, tºº. § § º º/4\;=|PHYSICAL G tº: * , ººgºº, jº: & Rºº.º. Nº. 2, ... ETºg - º sº ºbsº *... : º º, º Sºſ. tº ºsº * ** - º S- - 2 *-es- II. THE dénsity or weight of the earth has been ascertained with great precision by the result of many remarkable experiments, conducted over a long Series of years by eminent observers e from Newton to Baily and Pro- ... fessor Airey. The principle on “ , which these experiments have been conducted is, to ascertain the force of attraction by certain bodies of known dimen-- Sions, and then, the size of the earth and its attractive force being known, to work out the problem in this manner:—As the size of the earth is to that of the object tested, so would be its attractive power if the specific densities were the same, attrac- tion being in pro- portion to density. If the proportion of attraction is not the same, the earth and the other body must be of different, densities, and it then remains to be ascer- tained what specific density of the earth, its size being known, would give the attrac- tive poweritisknown to possess. Newton made a very near approximation to the trueresult by abstract reasoning; and be- tween 1774 and 1776 Dr. Maskelyne, the Astronomer Royal, . endeavourcd to as- certain the attraction - exercised by a large mountain in deflecting a plummet from the vertical line. The mountain of Schehallion in Perthshire was selected, but the results of the experiments were not scien- tifically satisfactory. Henry Cavendish, one of the greatest of English natural philosophers, “the Newton of chemistry,” suggested another. mode of investigation, which was carried out by Mr. Francis Baily in a series of experi- ments extending over several years, resulting in ascertaining the exact weight or density of the earth. In these experiments the attraction exercised by large balls of lead on small balls of lighter material was 'observed and calcu- lated ; and then, in accordance with the rule given above, the attractive force of the earth and a mass of lead of the same size was con- trasted, and the relative densities of the earth and lead ascertained. The Astronomer Royal, Professor Airey, has since conducted a series of experiments, comparing the motions of two pendulums, one at the earth's surface, and the 9ther at the bottom of the shaft of a Northum- NORTH poll E ES t SOUIH POLE LATITUDE AIN.B. S.DNGITUDE. ' l 71 brian goalpit, 1200 feet below the surface, but , without arriving at Iesults scientifically satis- factory. The endeavour was to ascertain the attractive power exerted at various depths; but the depth it is possible to reach is so insignificant compared with the length of a radius of the diameter of the earth, that no calculation derived from such a source can be depended on. - Summing up the knowledge actually pos- sessed of the shape, size, and density of the earth; we are able to arrive at the following conckusions :— * The earth is a planetary body, revolving round the sun at a mean distance Aucertained of between 92 and 93 millions **** e & 8 & sº results. of miles, on an elliptical Orbit * of more than 596 millions of miles in length, and consequently travelling through space at the rate of about 19 miles in a second. The earth also revolves on its axis in 23 hours 56 minutes 4 seconds. (See ASTRONOMY.) The mean equato- rial diameter is 7,925 English miles. The polar diameter is 7,898 miles. The mean circum- ference, 24,869 miles. The area of surface, 196,000,000 square miles. The solid contents, 259,373,000,000 cubic miles. The n e i g h t, 5,842,000,000,000,000 is no less than 5842 trillions of tons, or 5-67 (more than 5% times that of water. 2. Degrees of Lati- tude and Longitude. Mathematicians divide a circle into 360 degrees, and it has been found convenient by geographers to adopt this division for the purpose of indi- cating the position of any particular por- tion of the earth's surface. The equatorial circle is therefore divided into 360 portions, or degrees; but, as a reference to the diagram given will show, the equator is divided into two equal portions by a circle of the meridian, and the plan is adopted of reckoning 180 degrees on each side of the meridian. Various nations adopt varying meridians as the start- ing point—usually that of their own principal astronomical observatory. England has se- lected the meridian of Greenwich (where is the royal observatory), and that selection fs gene- rally recognized by the geographers of the United States, although in many American maps the meridian of Washington (seat of the national observatory) is marked in addition. The degrees are reckoned east and west of this meridian, and are known as degrees of longitude. Thus, there are 180 degrees of east and 180 Degrees of longitude. 72 THE UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. degrees of west longitude, and all places on the same meridian are in the same degree of longitude. º The circle of the meridian, in like manner, consists of 360 degrees; but being divided by the equator and the poles into Degrees of four equal portions, only 90 de- latitude grees are reckoned to the north and 90 to the south of that line, and are known as degrees of north or south latitude, counting from the equator to the poles. Imaginary lines parallel to the equator, and therefore known as parallels of latitude, pass round the globe, intersecting the meridians marking the 360 degrees of longitude. The preceding dia- gram, including one hemisphere or half of the surface of the globe, exhibits the arrangement in a clear manner. . A A is the equator; B B, the meridian of more difficult. For that purpose it is necessary to refer to the table below, which shows the length of a degree of longitude, in English milés, at every degree of north or south latitude. The use of this table will afford approxi- mative results sufficiently accurate for general purposes; but of course where fractions of degrees of latitude or longitude are involved, more elaborate calculations are required. As an illustration of the use of the table, let us Suppose that we wish to ascertain the distance between any two places situated on the 50th parallel of latitude, the one in long. 20° E., the other in 40° E., or 20 degrees apart. At this latitude we find that the length of a degree of longitude is 44°35 miles, which multi- plied by 20 gives 887 miles as the distance between the two places. Greenwich; A A A, ... We º º meridians of West in Our first article longitude, B B B, of | Reg. Length of | Reg. | Pength Of Deg. Length of (see p. 27), that SE, : 5 lat. deg. long. lat. deg. long. lat. deg, long. e east longitude; CCC, midday, or noon, of north latitude, occurs at the same and D D D, of south miles. miles. miles. time at every point latitude. The de- 0 69 07 31 59-13 • 61 33°45 of the earth's sur- * l 69'06 32 58-51 62 32°40 f lvi d grees are, for the 2 69 03 33 57.87 63 31 33 ace lying under sake of convenience 3 68-97 34 57.20 # ;: º: ºidº mall diagram 4. 68'90 35 56'51 6 - Of IOI).9"It'll Cl62. S on a sma * ...; 5 68°81 36 55'81 66 28'06 it rotates on its marked in tens; but 6 68-62 37 55' 10 67 26 96 ...toº, ºn ... single degrees can, 7 68°48 38 54'37 68 25’S5 axis once in "24 of course, be easily 8 68 31 39 53-62 69. 24 73 hours (within a reckoned. A degree 9 68°15 40 52'85 70 23:60 fraction), and there :--. º 10 67.95 41 52-07 71 22'47 ‘e 360 degr f (the sign of which 11 67-73 42 51.27 72 21 32 are : egrees, Q is ?) is subdivided 12 67-48 43 50°46 ſ: # ºn it. : int minutes (' 13 67 21 44 49'63 4. • ows that the perio nto 60 is (), 14 66'95 45 48°78 75 17.86 of noon sº OIle and each minºte | # 66 65 46 47-93 76 16 70 hour for * into 60 seconds (”). I6 66 31 47 47'06 77 15:52 our for every 15 The position of any 17 65 98 48 46°16 78 14:3; degrees, and that, point of the earth's #. § ; ; ; . #; as the rotation of surface is indicated | ..., 64'84 51 43°42 81 10 79 the earth is from by noting what me- 21 64'42 52 42'48 82 9°59 West to east, when ridian of longitude 22 63 97 53 41'53 83 8 41 there is noon at any - 23 63 51 54 40-56 84 7:21 Spot, at another and parallel of lati- º e '00 pot, - 24 63'03 55 39'58 85 6 t 15 degrees t tude intersect at 25 62 53 56 38°58 86 4'81 Spo egrees to that place. For in- 26 62-02 57 37-58 87 3-61 the west one hour stance, if we wish % §§ ; § ; #: to noon is wanted ; to show the position e 0’00 and at 15 degrees - 29 60 35 60 34' 50 90 e of Constantinople 30 59 75 to the east the time on a globe or map, is one hour past we say that it is to be found at-long. 28° 59' 15° E., lat. 41° 0' 18" N.; or of Buenos Ayres—long. 58° 23' 34" W., lat. 34° 36' 22" S., meaning that number of degrees and portions of a degree east or west of Greenwich respec- tively, and north or south of the equator. The length of a degree of longitude neces- Sarily varies at different latitudes, in conse- quence of the spherical shape of the ealth, the meridians proceeding from the equator meeting at the poles. At the equator a degree, being one 360th part of the circumference of the earth, measures slightly over 69 miles (decimally, 69-07); and on the line of the equator a ready means is afforded of measuring distances between any two places by the difference of longitude. But the variation in length of the degrees to the nerth or south renders an estimate of distance Length of degrees, LEN GTII OF DEGREES OF LONGITUDE. noon. Thus, when it is 12 o'clock noon at Greenwich, it is only 11 o'clock in the morning at every place lying under the 15th meridian of west longitude, 1 o'clock in the afternoon at every place under the 15th meridian of east longitude, and midnight at every place under the meridian of 180 degrees (nearly the situ- ation of New Zealand). By a knowledge of this fact a navigator, provided with a chro- nometer carefully adjusted to Greenwich time, by comparing that with the time as shown by the sun, can accurately estimate the longi- tude of the position on the surface of the globe he is in. hours behind the chronometer time, he is 45 degrees to the west of Greenwich, about the meridian of the middle of the Nolth Atlantic Oceani. We have mentioned that it is known as a If the observed time is three. A F'RENCEI GRAMMAR. 73 result of the accurate measurement of arcs of the meridian, that degrees of latitude vary slightly in length, increasing as the poles are ap- proached. Between the tenth degree and the ninetieth from the equator the difference is 1139 yards, slightly under two-thirds of a mile. Degrees of latitude. sº-ºº: - - , s , "... * * * * §§ º 'º. 27. * Q º # * > -s; §º = <º &Sºº - . . . .ºs.; 5. $º ºs ºf HFENSTRAW. Hº Nººs gº ºsº QS sº ºzº: U. III. THE ARTICLE (continued). 1. Contraction of the article. When the pre- positions à (to or at) and de (of or from) come in contact with the article, two of the forms of the latter, namely le and les, coalesce, make one word, with these prepositions; this is called the contraction of the article. 2. To the (or at the), literally translated according to the four positions which the article may occupy in French, gives— & le, & la, à l', a les. . Of these four combinations, two remain un- altered, viz., á la and & !'; but á le is contracted into aw, and & les into awa. Therefore translate to the or at the by— Aw, before a masculine singular noun begin- ning with a consonant or h aspirate,” as, to the son, aw fils ; at the hamlet, au hameau. A la before a feminine singular noun begin- ning with a consonant or h aspirate; as, to the daughter, à la fille ; at the market, & la halle. A l’ before a masculine or feminine singular noun beginning with a vowel or silent h; as, to the child, a l'enfant (masc.); to the honour, à l'honneur (masc.); at the church, ù l'église (fern.); at the horror, & l'horreur (fem.). Awa, before every noun in the plural, what- ever its gender or initial letter: to the sons, awx fils at the hamlets, aux hameaux to the daughters, aux filles at the markets, aux halles to the children, awa:Tenfants? at the honours, awa:Thonneurs to the churches, awa:Téglises at the horrors, aua. Thorreurs 3. Of the (or from the), literally translated according to the four positions which the article may occupy in French, gives— de le, de la, de l', de les. Of these four combinations two remain un- altered, viz., de la and de l’; but de le is con- tracted into du, and de les into des. Therefore translate of the or from the by— Du before a masculine singular noun begin- ning with a consonant or h aspirate; as, of the son, du fils ; from the hamlet, du hameau. * So-called aspirate h’s are not heard ; they merely prevent the connection which, as shown below, the silent h permits. + æ, connected with the initial of the next word, is pronounce la oft as z, say aw-cenfan. De la before a feminine singular noun begin- ning with a consonant or h aspirate; as, of the * de la fille ; from the market, de la le. De l' before a masculine or feminine singular noun beginning with a vowel, or silent h; as, of the child, de l'enfant (masc.); from the honour, de l'honneur (masc.); of the church, d6 l'église (fem.); from the horror, de l'horreur (fem.). g Des before every noun in the plural, what- ever its gender or initial letter : of the sons, des fils from the hamlets, des hameaua, of the daughters, des filles from the markets, des halles of the children, desºenfants” from the honours, dest honneurs of the churches, des"églises from the horrors, des"borreurs 4. The possessive case, expressed in English by 's after a singular noun, and by after a plural noun, is invariably rendered into French by the forms du, de la, de l', and des : The king's palace, le palais du roi; the queen's castle, le château de la reine ; kings' privileges, les privilèges des rows ; queens' rights, les droits des reines. The possessive case 's, after a proper substantive, is expressed by de (or d'); St. John's Gospel, l'évangile de Saint Jean ; Esther's book, le livre d’Esther. Remark 1.-Le, la, les come from the Latin accusative cases illum, illam, t1los or tllas (that near him, that yonder). In Old French, le contracted with d gave al, and le contracted with de gave del ; les contracted with a gave als, and with des it gave dels. . At a later period all the l’s were softened down into u's, and thus arose the forms au, du (first dew), auw, and des. Two other contractions existed in Old French—viz., enl for en le, and es for en les. Vestiges of the latter remain in a few expressions, such as bachelier-es-leftres, a bachelor in the arts; docteur-es-sciences, a doctor ºt the sciences. The grave accent was used to distin- guish this contraction from its homonym, twº es, thou art. Remark 2. —The contraction of the article with the prepositions à and de occurs in those pronominal forms of which the article is a component part, as in le mten, la menne, les mens, les mennes, mine, etc. ; leguel, la- quelle, lesquels, lesquelles, which, Therefore, to mºne would be rendered, according to the gender and number of the antecedent, by au mien, d la mienne, awa, ºttens, awa. miennes ; of mime by du mien, de la memne, des maens, des miennes; to which by auquel, a laquelle, awarguels, aua'quelles; and of which by duquel, de laquelle, desquels, desquelles. 5. The English indefinite article a or an, better called a demonstrative adjective, is ren- dered into French by the cardinal numeral adjective un before a masculine noun, and une before a feminine noun : un taureau, a bull une Vache, a conv un sabot, a mºhipping-top une toupie, a peg-top When wºn and une are brought into connec- tion with & and de no contraction takes place, but de becomes d': & à un taureau a bull à une Vache | to OT at | Q. CO7) d’un taureau a bull of OT from d’une Vache | * f | Q, CO7) * The s carried on to the next vowel is pronounced like a z. Read de-zº ºf it 74 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. 6. The English partitive article some or any, better called an adjective of quantity, is rendered into French by— du before a masculine singular noun begin- ming with a consonant or h aspirate : du pain, Some bread, du hachis, some hash. de la before a feminine singular noun begin- ning with a consonant or h aspirate: de la viande, some meat, de la hure, some wild boar's head. de l’ before a masculine or feminine singular noun beginning with a vowel or silent h; de l'aloyau (masc.), some sirloin, de l’huile (fern.) Some oil. ' des before any noun in the plural : des homards (masc. h. asp.), some lobsters des huitres (fem. h mute), some oysters des crabes (masc.), some crabs des moules (fem.), some mussels 7. It must be observed that in all the fore- going examples any could be substituted for some Only if the proposition were interroga- tive: Any hash 7 du hachis? Any oysters ? des huttres f [In affirmative and negative sen- tences any would be rendered quite differently: Any one who trespasses will be fined, TouTE personne en contravention sera mise à l'amende; Buy for me any bonnet you fancy, achetez-moi N’IMPORTE QUEL chapeau, or achetez-moi le chapeau qu'il vous plaira : Which will you have '—any, leguel woulez-vous?—N’IMPORTE LEQUEL ; I shall not permit any deceit, je ne permettra: AUCUNE tromperie ; I have not got any, je n'EN ai pas, etc.] 8. The use of some (or any in interrogative sentences) is often optional in English, but du, de la, de l', des must always be expressed be- fore a French noun taken in a partitive sense; and when the first noun of a series takes this adjective of quantity, all the other nouns must take it likewise, with those variations which gender, initial letter and number may demand. The cases in which the article portion of those combinations is omitted and de (OT d') alone re- tained, will be mentioned in a succeeding lesson. JRemark 3 —Any fragments of noun or adjective declensvons, which the Roman soldiers and colonists who settled in Gaul may have brought in the train of their rough langua rustwoo, bawe vanished several hundred years ago from French. Not a single gram- mar published now-a-days in France mentions declen- sions as part of her linguistic lore; and yet, In not a few apers elaborated by cortann oxaminers, we find the ollowing questions propounded : Decline the horse in the singular and plural ; decline a horse in the sin- gular and plural; etc. ' The candidate who has been fortunate enough to go through a course of com- parative grammar guesses what is expected of him, and writes:– Singular. Nom. the horse, le cheval Gen. of the horse, du cheval Dat. to the horse, au cheval Acc. the horse, le cheval Voc. O horse, ó cheval Abl. any preposition + the horse, do. + le cheval JPlural. Nom, the horses, les chevaux Gen. of the horses, des chevaux Dat. to the horses, aux chevaux Acc. the horses, les chevaux Voc. O horses, 6 chevaux Abl. any prep.-- the horses, do. + les chevaux Nor will d horse present much difficulty to a Latin, Greek, or German scholar :- Singular. Nom. a horse, un cheval Gen. of a horse, d’un cheval Dat. to a horse, a un cheval Acc, a horse, un cheval sº Voc. . . . . . . . . . Abl. any prep.-- a horse, do. + un cheval But the plural of wºn cheval] is not so easily declined. The plural of the cardinal numeral adjective un might, be deua, or trous, or mille. The candidate, however, rightly supposes that he is expected to conclude that the adjective of quantuty som B must be the plural of #. imºnitrative adjective A, and he writes, getrostes utkes :- Nom. Some horses, des chevaux • Gen. of some horses, de chevaux Dat. to some horses, a des chevaux Acc. some horses, des chevaux OC. * } tº tº s te & e & g Abl. any prep.-H some horses, do. + deg chevaux We should certainly have abstained from prelecting On Such hybrid grammar had we not been convinced of its practical utility—for scoring marks. Practical Application. WOCABULARY II. A. Commerces et Métiers se rapportant à l'Alimentation (Trades connected mith the supply of food). 1. Name of the tradesman. 2. Name of the female trader or shopkeeper, or tradesman’s wife. 3. Name: given to the place where the trade is carried on. 4. Name of the staple commodity. l. boucher, butcher ; 2. bouchère ; 3. bou- cherie (f.); 4. de la Viande, some meat. 1. boulanger, baker ; 2. boulangère; 3. bou- langerie (f.); 4. du pain, bread. 1. brasseur, brencer, 2. (f.); 4. de la bière, beer. 1. Cabaretier, tavern-keeper; 2. cabaretière ; 3. cabaret (m.); 4. du vin, wine. 1, charcutier, pork-butcher; 2. charcutière; 3. boutique (f.), shop ; 4. de la charcuterie, pork-butcher's mare. wº 1. Confiseur, sugar-baker ; 2. confiseuse; 3. confiserie (f.); 3. des confitures (f.), et des Sucreries (f.), some preserves and confections. 1. Cuisinier, cook ; 2. cuisinière ; 3. cuisine (f.);, des aliments (m.), food. 1. distillateur, distiller, 2. ; 3. distil- lerie (f), distillery; 4. de l'alcool (m.), alcohol. 1. Čcailler, oyster-seller; 2. čcaillère ; 3. marché (m.), market, halle (f.), covered market; 4. des huitres (f.), oysters. 1. epicier, grocer; 2. čpicière ; 3. bou- tique (f.), shop, magasin (m.), warehouse ; 4. des épiceries (f.), colonial ovares, des épices (f.), spices. 1. friteur, vendor of fried waves; 2. friteuse; 3. boutique (f), shop; 4. de la friture, fried provºstons. 1. fruitier, greengrocer; 2. fruitière ; 3. bou- tique (f.), shop ; 4. des fruits (m.), et des légumes (m.), fruit and vegetables. 1. ; 2. harengère, fishmonger or hamºker; 3. marché, halle; 4. des harengs (m.), herrings, du poisson, fish. 1. laitler, nourrisseur, dairyman ; 2. laitière; 3. Crémerie (m.); 4. du lait, milk. 1. limonadier, liquoriste, bar-keeper; 2. limo- nadière ; 3. café (m), estaminet (m.); A. des Tafraîchissements (m), refreshments. ; 3. brasserie FR E7VCIT G /?AMMA I，. 75 1. meunier, miller ; 2. meunière ; 3. moulin (m.) ; de la farine, flour. 1. pâtissier, pastry-cook ; 2. pâtissière ; 3. boutique (f.), magasin (m.) ; 4. de la pâtis- serie, pastºy. 1. poissonnier,* fishmonger ; 2. poissonnière;* 3. marché (m.), halle (f.) ; 4. du poisson, de la marée, fish. l. restaurateur, eatinghouse-keeper ; 2. 3. restaurant (m.) ; 4. des repas, (m.), meals. 1. rôtisseur, vendor of roasted viands ; 2. rôtisseuse ; 3. rôtisserie (f.) : 4. des viandes (f.) rôties et des volailles (f.) rôties, roasted meats and fon:ls, I. tripier, tripe vendor ; 2. tripière ; 3. tri- perie ; 4. de la tripe, tripe. $ IVote.—Several commodutles are sold without there being any special name given to the seller Or his place of bushness ; then the words marchand de for the men, marchande de for the women, magasun (m ) or boutique (f.) for the place of business, are used : (A marchand de blé (m.), corn merchant. de coco (m ), ttuncrant vendor of a certain liquoruce drunk. de cofmestables (m ), provision dealer. de COnsol'ves $ .) alimentaires, à preserved pro- čle denrées (f) alumentaures, j vvston dealer. de fromages (m.), cheesemonger. de plais1r (m.), avafer vendor. des quatre sansons (f.), costermonger, etc. fabricant de biscuit (m.), buscuut manufacturer. de chocolat (m.), also chOcOlather, chocolate manufacturer, etc. lB. The Present Indicative of Verb AVOIR, , to have. j'ai, I have. tu as, thou hast. il^a, he has. elle^a, she has. quelqu'un^a, some one ha Jean a. John has. l'épicier a, the grocer has. nous^avons, qve have. vous^avez, you have. ils^ont, they have. elles^ont, they have. quelques Tuns ont, some have. Jean et Jeanne^ont, John and Jane have. les^épiciers^ont, the groeers have. Conjugated interrogatively :- ai-je ? have I ? as-tu ? /last thou ? a-t-il ? has he ? a-t,Tclle ? has she ? quelqu'un^a-t^il ? has some one ? Jean a-t^Cil ? has John ? l'épicier a-tTil ? has the grocer ? avons-nous ? have qve ? © avez-vous ? have you ? ont^ils ? have they ? ont^Celles ? have they ? quelques - uns ont - ils ? have some ? Jean et Jeanne^Ont^ils ? ha ve Johm and . Jane ? $ est-ce que les^épiciers^ont ? have the grocers ? @ Points to be observed in the above Conjugation. a. The t inserted betwcen a and il, elle (also between a and on : a-t-on ? has one ?)is called * In little use now, marchand, marchande de poisson, being preferred, euphonic, because the presence of it destroys the hiatus which a-il, a-elle, a-on, Would offer. This lètter was not selected at 7'andom ; it is derived from the t of the third person singular in Latin verbs : amat illa ? habet ille ? Nor was it selected Of set purpose ; it nvas left in the interrogative, while otherwise vanishing in all verbs derived from the first Latin con- jugation. b. Any question may be begun by est-ce que (pron. ess ke), is it that ? the force of which corresponds to that of to do in a similar posi- tion. When this form of interrogation is used. the personal pronoun, referring back to the subject, cannot be repeated asin l'épicier a-t-IL ? Est-ce que l'épicier a ? est-ce que j'ai ? exhibit a more popular construction than l'épicier a-t-il ? ai je ? c. The phrase quelqu'un a-t-il ? shows that a personal pronoun is repeated after the verb used interrogatively, although the subject be some pronoun, not a personal one. We should, Of course, say est-ce que quelqu'un a ? just as correctly as quelqu'un a-t-il ? ADDITIONS TO VOCABULARY. où, n'here; ou, or; ou . . .. ou, either . . chez, at the house of, at the shop of. , 07" , EXERCISE IV. Translate into English :— l. Où est le cuisinier ? Il est au marché ou au cabaret. 2. Et la cuisinière ? Elle est ou à la cuisine ou chez la belle-soeur du limonadier. 3. Le distillateur a-t-il du vin et de l alcool ? 4. Chez l'épicier on a des sucreries, des con- fitures, des conserves alimentaires et des épices, 5. Le boucher et la bouchère sont à la brasserie. 6. Les parents de la rôtisseuse sont char- cutiers.* 7. La boulangère est la femme, et la boulangerie est la boutique du boulanger. 8. Jean, le marchand de coco de la halle, a-t-il aussi du plaisir, des sucreries, et du chocolat ? 9. La marraine d'un brasseur a le restaurant. 10. Est-ce que j'ai des huîtres, et Paul a-t-il des harengs ? ll. Avez-vous de la pâtisserie de chez mon boulanger ou de chez mon pâtissier ? 12. Au café, on a des rafraî- chissements : du café, de la bière, de la limo- nade,, et du vin. 13. L'écaillère a-t-elle une boutique ou un magasin l Elle est à la halle ; la harengère aussi. 14. Jeanne et Louise ont- elles du lait et du pain, ou du chocolat et de la pâtisserie ? 15. Le beau-frère de ma mère nourrice a une crémerie : il est laitier ^ et nourrisseur. 16. Le fruitier a-t-il aussi une boutique au marché ? 17. La limonadière a un cousin germain ; il est confiseur * ou pâtis-' sier. 1S, Est-ce que le meunier et la meunière sont au moulin ? Non, ils sont chez le fabri- cant de biscuit. 19. Nous avons un beau- frère ; il est marchand* de blé ; et mon parrain est fabricant de chocolat. 20. Quelqu'un a-t-il des volailles rôties ? Oui ; le rôtisseur et le restaurateur ; ils ont aussi des viandes rôties. * Nouns used adjectively do not take the numeral adjective or the adjectlVe of quantity, THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, ſº FLOWERING PLANTS. SETTING out, "with the idea of a flower- ing plant as one which propagates itself through the medium of seeds, & ... the latter produced by stamens *** **and pistils, the next thing to con- sider is the general structure of the plant, so far as apprehensible by the naked eye. Every one naturally takes first that which lies open to his unaided vision, resorting to the micro- Scope when his original powers no longer © suffice. A flower- ing plant, when aſſº#º perfect, or pos- 24;ºſºft sessed of all the *ººl." Organs and mem- #(\} º $º 2. \\\". §º N bers ever met ſº º with in plants, s: is resolvable into 2-" root, stem, leaves, — == flowers, and fruit, *Gs Nº || or seed-pod. The //nº,. ...} three first are 2% ºf called nutritive $% Organs, because §§ § # concerned simply §§§ with the well- #yº: being of the in- §§§[.º. dividual. Their FIG. 12.-PALM TREE. purpose is to enlarge the gene- ral fabric, to carry it onwards to the maxi- mum of its dimensions, and to secrete and store up whatever substance may give it quality, and which in the economic species renders it serviceable to mankind. They have nothing to do with the perpetuation of the species, this being the office, quite as specially, of the flower and fruit, which consequently receive the name of the reproductive organs. Many plants, no doubt, multiply and renew themselves by means of offsets, underground Tunners, bulbs, etc.; and Some do this so readily and so extensively as to be almost in- dependent of renewal by seed. Whether such modes of renewal could go on for ever is not known. Judging from analogy, the proba- bility is that at last this power of lateral ex- tension would wear out. In any case it re- mains true that reproduction by seed is the normal and originally prescribed mode of re- newal, other modes being only representative. Very often the nutritive organs devote many years to the construction and consolidation of the plant, as illustrated in certain kinds of palms, which show no signs of blooming till of considerable height and bulk, then put out their flowers, and as soon as the fruit is ripe, go steadily, though it may be slowly, to decay. Many plants when growing under conditions favourable to the development of stem and leaf, produce nothing besides, and in order to | get them to blossom it is necessary to stint their Supplies of nourishment. On the other hand, it is very interesting to observe how plants ex- posed to extreme dfought, or in peril of starva- tion, summon up all their energies for the production of a flower or two that shall pro- duce seed for the continuation of the race. Although the five organs or parts which have been mentioned are present in the great majority of flowering plants, there are plenty of examples of the absence of one or other of the nutri- tive class. The absence of a root is very well illustrated in the plants termed “para- sites,” such as the common Mistletoe and the troublesome weed called Dodder. The white and viscid berry of the mistletoe refuses to vegetate in the soil; in order that it shall grow it must be attached to the bark of a tree. It then insinuates little vesseks, which by degrees penetrate so deep that the plant obtains a secure and permanent hold, and thenceforward it lives chiefly by extracting the sap. While plants in general get their living honestly by means of roots buried in the soil, the mistletoe is thus a vegetable thief. The damage it in- flicts is less in proportion, however, than that which is done by the dodders when they in- vade agricultural crops, such as clover. The dodder seeds vegetate in the earth, but the young stems which arise from them very soon attach themselves, by a kind of sucker, to the plant they assail. The connection with the earth is then severed, and henceforward the dodder lives like the mistletoe, by theft. It is important here to distinguish from parasites, the plants—a very numerous com- any—which simply lodge upon, & º: #m. j *::::: º, Epiphytes, without abstracting their juices. We need but glance at the trunk of & an old tree in a wood, and we shall observe that where the condi- tions are favourable to the retention of mois- ture, the bark is clothed in parts with delicate green moss, mingled with which the inquisi- tive eye may detect Some of the most ex- quisite little plants nature produces—those called Jungermannias. If the conditions are more favourable to dryness, then instead of mosses there will be a singular incrusta- tion of lichens, usually grey or yellowish in Colour, and sometimes having moss inter- mingled. The lichens are at once distin- guished from mosses by their being destitute of leaves, and consisting of mere paper- like or filamentous and quite homogeneous Substance. In addition to mosses and lichens, it is by no means unusual to see, in old woods, that beautiful and vell-known fern, the common golden-dotted polypody, perched Parasitic plants, FIG. 13.—HIYACINTH. JB OTA NY. 77 upon the boughs of a venerable oak or other timber tree. When such a tree is waning, it furnishes a resting-place indeed to many another plant, ordinarily an occupant of the soil or of the earthy cliff. The curious and pretty Dimple-wort, Umbilicus pendulinus, takes very particular pleasure in this change of habitat. All these, accordingly, being merely lodgers, and obtaining their root-nourishment from the . already dead or decaying bark of the tree, and from the extraneous matters which are apt to accumulate where they settle, are in no degree to be confounded with parasites. They are epiphytes, and in most cases are able to grow in very different situ- ations, whereas para- sites can grow only in the way indicated. In tropical countries the epiphytes give a character towarm and damp forests at Once most beautiful and surprising. Ferns, Orchids, and huge climbers, with pro- digious leaves, take the place which in England is held by the mosses, etc., man- thing the trees with a foliage often richer than they find, and enriching them with flowers which their own rarely emulate. They are the orchids of this class, the epiphytic species, which one is accus- tomed to see, in hot- houses, attached to lumps of bark, and suspended from the Toof. Ivy is neither a parasite nor an epiphyte, though in appearance it con- joins both natures. Ivy has its root in the earth, and feeds itself therefrom. The long and , slender stems, gifted with climbing power, put forth innu- merable little holdfasts, which attach themselves with equal facility to an inanimate wall or to the surface of a living tree; ivy, in a word, is a shrub which being too slender in its fabric to stand erect, ingeniously contrives an arti- ficial method whereby to lift itself Sunwards. While speaking of ivy, let us not forget the curious con- ditions under which it blossoms. on Ion BULB. As long as ivy has anything to take hold of, tree, roofless abbey, or dismantled castle, it produces leaves only, and these FIG., than a sucker will leave go. possess the characteristic angles — usually three, sometimes five, and in some varieties many more than five. The height of the tree or of the wall matters nothing; so long as ascent is possible, there is still only foliage. When there is no longer a surface to cling to, and the branches have, as it were, to fall forwards—often forming a massive and imposing vegetable cornice—a change “comes o'er the spirit of its dream,” flowers are put forth in abundance, appearing simultaneously with the lilac and golden asters of late autumn, —and with the blooming there comes also a suppression of the angles of the leaf, which now is simply ovate or elliptical and pointed. A wall of not more than eight or ten feet in height is sufficient for the occurrence of this curious change, which is so remarkable in regard to the outline of the leaf, that, with- out actual contemplá- tion of the growing plant, it is scarcely possible to believe in the identity. Here too it may be pro- perly mentioned that many of the weak- stemmed plants bear at first sight a simili- tude to epiphytes, when planted, that is, so as to run up trees. A capital ex- ‘ample is supplied in ...the common Virginian creeper. The root, as in the case of the ivy, is in the soil; the holdfasts, however, in- stead of being simple threads, consist of little many-fingered sprays, every finger ending in a gland so powerfully adhesive that the entire spray º #. . .* 14. will often more readily break off at the wrist While the root, as in parasitic plants, may thus be absent, there are plenty of examples also of stem- less plants: Or, more cor- rectly speaking, of plants with so. very trifling an amount of stem that it can hardly be said to de- serve the name, and can only be demonstrated to be of the nature of stem by analogy and comparj- son. A familiar illustra- tion of this occurs in the bºls of the Onion, FIG. 16. THE PRIMROSE. 78 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Balbs, be it observed, though their customary place of lodgment is below the surface of the ground, are not to be confounded with, or classed with, 7'oots. In botany, as in many other things, it is not the place in which a part is found that determines its nature, but the structure, the function, the final purpose. Even stems of form and character such as usually pertain to aerial ones are occasionally Subterranean ; and, on the other hand, it is quite a common thing for roots to be deve- loped in the air. Taking a vertical section of the growing Onion or Hyacinth Bulb (figs. 11, 15), the main or substantial portion of it is found to consist of the bases of leaves, the Outermost reduced to the condition of membranous and almost translucent scales, while the innermost are either already elon- gated, or are getting ready to elongate, into the long green blades which rise from the centre, and surround the flower-stalk. The spongy plate—sometimes convex, some- times approaching the conical, upon which these leaf-bases rest—is all that the plant possesses of the nature of stem; the real roots are the fibres which descend from its under- surface. The nature of a bulb is made very plain by comparing it with the rosette of leaves which constitutes an individual plant of House- leek or of Echeveria. The curious Sempervivum zabulaeforme is a bulb as it were reversed. Other examples of plants, apparently stemless, are found in the primrose (fig. 16), the dandelion, the common plantains of the wayside and the meadow; in almost all, in a word, of the plants which are said to possess only “radical” or root-leaves. Roots, properly so called, never produce leaves. Some may say, Is it not a stem which sustains the flowers of the hyacinth' No. This is only a flower-stalk, a temporary output from the stem, which dies when its purpose has been accomplished. The non-development of leaves is again a common phenomenon. In the whole of the great tribe of plants to which the Leatless plants. Cactus belongs, the genus Pere. skia alone excepted, leaves properly so called are entirely wanting. There are other large families in which the plant consists purely of green and succulent stem ; it is not unusual, indeed, to find in families which ordinarily abound in leaf certain wayward and perverse species so reticent of genuine foliage that they appear to be quite without. Take for instance the odd Coccoloba platyclados, which seems composed of ribbons, articulated at short intervals, the little triangular leaves coming out when they list, now and then, near the joints. Leafless plants must not be confounded with those which are destitute of foliage while in bloom. Many bulbous plants throw up their flower-stem at one season and their leaves at another. A familiar instance occurs in the Colchicum ; the crocus-like flowers impurple the meadows about Michaelmas, the leaves do not make their appearance till the spring. The same is the case with the Guernsey Lily and other amaryllids grown in conservatories ; also with various orchids—many dendrobes for ex- ample, which on this account, when in bloom, z- though so lovely, look bare and unfinished. Parasitic plants are often devoid of leaves, or if present, they are developed merely as scales. This condition is well exemplified in the genus Orobanche, several species of which belong to the British flora. It is possible for a flowering plant to be devoid of both stem and leaf, . This occurs in the floating Lemnassof the stand- ing pool, above alluded to, which consist only of plates of cellular tissue, roots descending from the under-surface, and the minute flowers coming out at the edges. The Lemmas are the very simplest of flowering plants. Flowers, in the Phaenogamia, as the appella- tion distinctly implics, are never absent. In other words, every species of this great division of the vegetable kingdom is capable of producing flowers. A seccl-pod or fruit is also potentially characteristic of the whole. Lemnas, I'lowers and fruit never absent, CE. BY ROBERT SOMERS. IF “action,” as we have high sanction for be- lieving, be the crowning quality of Oratory, “perseverance” is the plimal force of nearly all excellence. We hear of born-Orators, born-poets, and born-statesmen. In moments of enthusiasm they are sometimes called . “heaven-born.” But we suspect that these are for the most part mythical personages, and that real specimens at least are but few in number. Seldom is man or woman born to anything, unless it be to a silver spoon ; and in the histories, biographics, and , other records wherein we read of any great success, whether in business, learning, art, science, power of doing or persuading, or in the acquisition simply of choice and varied personal accomplishments, ninety-nine cases out of a hundrell will be found to be the same old story of great difficulties to be overcome, and persistent endeavours to overcome them. There is more equality among mankind in the need of perseverance than is commonly supposed ; for this is an essence of character cunningly adapted to every situation of life, and may be said to be the atmosphere in which all virtues and excellences can alone hope to live. Suppose, for example, one born to great wealth, even to titles and honours in the State, or certain at least of the social distinction which wealth gives, it is difficult to conceive a situa- tion where perseverance would appear, at first sight, to be more entirely a word of no mean- ing. He has only to stand still, and receive and enjoy the Satisfaction sure to flow into his breakfast-room every morning, and scarcely to retirc from his couch at night. But it is not exactly so in reality. There is a constant call THE FRIEWDLY COUNSELL OR. 79 for perseverance in resisting the temptations to evil by which such an estate of life is surrounded. When one's carriage-horses bolt down a steep descent, it requires as much effort to Tefn them back as to toil one's donkey- cart up hill. Again, if our magnate, discon- tent with the mere inheritance of wealth and honour, should nobly seek to achieve greatness in the senate or the field, or in the realms of science or liferature, the demands on his perseverance will be urgent, since he will naturally not like to be eclipsed by those who have started with much fewer advantages. It was a perception of difficulties of this kind in the path of the wealthy and noble which caused Montaigne to say that he would rather be third in Perigourd than first in Paris. Montaigne himself had no desire to rise above the condition of his birth, and even consoled himself with the reflection that there are sopme heights from which one can descend without falling down I Those who are high placed in society have as much need of perseverance as those who stand on the lower Tungs of the ladder; only, the former are apt to be most generally rewarded by the negative result of not falling, of not losing relative position ; while the latter are encouraged to persevere by the prospect of Tising, and by the greater ease with which, the more they persevere, they find themselves advancing. Young men of strong natural faculties as well as good oppor- tunities may form higher aims than could be reasonably proposed by those who are inferiorly endowed and less favourably situated. But great natural talents and good oppor- tunities have a tendency to weaken perseve- rance in laborious and methodical efforts ; and in this case, as in others, it is often found that the persistent pace of the tortoise beats in the end the more fitful leaps of the hare. Pelseverance implies tenacity of purpose, patience, energy, fortitude, and other qualities, any of which might be the subject of a little dissertation in itself. But our object in this short paper is to consider perseverance in its common acceptation, and in Some of the cir- cumstances in which its value is manifest in a stronger or weaker light; for there is a modulation in perseverance, as in everything else. Not only may there be perseverance in a wrong as well as a right course, and towards a right or wrong object; but even when the object is right, and the course is not wrong, perseverancemay sometimes be carried to excess. The lesson of perseverance may be said— in all save the continued cultivation of good habits, bencvolent feelings, and a devout spirit—to lose some of its force in proportion as we grow older; for, as life advances, the term for acquirements shortens, and a time comes when it is more important to develop and enjoy what we have got, than to attempt new conquests. Nor is it always wise to per- severe in exercising our strongest faculties, while allowing weaker faculties to lie dormant, Or with scarcely room to grow in ; and this may be true in some circumstances, and not so true in others. It is obvious that perseverance varies in its significance at different periods of life, and in different circumstances, when the objects to which our efforts are directed pass, as it were, under a new valuation. In nothing is the need of perseverance more apparent than in education. “Persevere, perse- vere, persevere,” are the words to be constantly sounded in the ears of the learner. It is in learning anything we all feel the difficulty of effort, and where our hearts are so apt to be discouraged by the awkwardness of the first steps, and the cold, dry, and barren character of the first results. When a thing is learned, it becomes easy, and perseverance becomes of no account save in using what has been learned towards another end. Few branches of study, moreover, do not require a concentration of our minds to master them. There must be not only perseverance, but a concentrated perseverance. The fewer intromissions of other subjects, the briefer lapses of time between one point of the progress and another, and, in short, the more consecutive the study, the more quickly and fully will the subject be comprehended. It may be doubted whether the crowding of many studies together be a wise economy in education. In schools, where, . of course, learning being the sole employment, there is some scope for variety of study, the prevailing error is certainly on the side of excess, and in trying to learn too many branches at one time ; whence arises a want of balance in the perseverance; for the pupils will almost certainly be found— teachers no less willingly assenting—to perse- were most in those branches in which their faculties are quickest. This is an evil of two sides and of two consequences. The learner is apt to leave school with tolerable proficiency in Only one, two, or three branches, while de- ficient in others, though the latter may be the most important and essential. But, further, as a pupil naturally leans to the branch of study for which he has most aptitude, the result of this partial learning is that the teach- ing power of the school and the whole effect of the pupil's perseverance will have been ex- pended on his most lively faculties—so lively that they required little teaching, and could almost have taught themselves—while those powers of mind which were most dull, and most needed to be trained and strengthened, will have been in a great measure neglected. As long as the object is a general culture, and not in any respect special or professional, it is the weaker faculties, and not the stronger, to which most exercise should be given. And this is one view in which perseverance in study differs from perseverance in business, since in the choice of a trade or a profession One has certainly to consider what trade or profession one is fittest for, and it would be absurd to say that when a trade, or profession, or any career of life has been entered upon, there should not be a persevering develop- ment and exertion of those faculties and aptitudes on which the rewards of our labour, skill or art, or enterprise depend. To “ham- mer the nail that drives best” holds true in business, but it does not apply to 'general mental culture. 8O e THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. º: -*. º º º &#N. sº §§§ THE motion of the moon in the heavens is far more easily studied than that of the sun, because, even when the moon is synodical at its brightest, the more impor- ... tant stars can be seen when quite close to it. It was easy, therefore, for the earlier astronomers to find out the path of the moon in the skies. It was soon found that the moon performed its revolution round the earth from west to east in the same direc- ‘tion as the Sun, and on an average once in 27 days 7 hours 43 minutes; for in the course of that time it again returned to the same place amongst the stars. This period is called a mean sidereal month. It takes the moon a longer period to come back to the same posi- tion with regard to the Sun, be- C9, U1S62 during these 27# days the sun has itself moved a considerable dis- tance towards the east, and the moon has to In OVé 3, COTTe- spondingly in- creased distance before it over- takes the sun again. It re- quires, in fact, on the average, a period of 29 days 12 hours 44 minutes, and this is called a lunar month or synodical revolution of the moon—it being the interval between two successive new IOOODS. gº We have seen, however, that the sun does not move always at the same Tate; so that when it is moving fastest, which is in December, the noon will have to move farther to overtake it, and will require a longer period to do so than in June, when the sun is moving slowest. For this reason, during the winter the lunar months are, on the average, eight hours longer than in the summer. At a very early period it was noticed that the moon did not move in the heavens in the same path as, the sun ; for it is evident that if it did, when it overtook and passed the sun, as it does at every new moon, it would come between the earth and the sun, in fact, it would seem to pass in front of the sun, and would hide that luminary from us. This would produce what is called an eclipse of the sun. But astrono- mers knew that the sun, was not eclipsed every month, so that it was evident that the moon, when it overtook the sun, must pass either above Sidereal and Eclipse of the sun, FIG. 7—A PLAN of THE HEAVENs. it or below it, or perhaps both. The path of the Sun amongst the stars, or the ecliptic as it is called, being known, by watching the motion of the moon it was soon seem that the moon moved in a path making a small angle with the ecliptic. Hipparchus, a celebrated Grecian astronomer, who lived at Alexandria between B.C. 190 and B.C. 120, very carefully measured this inclina- tion of the path of the moon to the ecliptic, and found it to be equal to 5° 0'—a value very near the truth, which is 5° 8' 40". In Fig. 7 is a plan of the heavens, like Fig. 4 (p. 49), and the path of the moon is represented by n m h inclined at a small angle to We E, the path of the Sun, or ecliptic. The place n, where the two paths intersect each other, is called the node; and n is called the descending mode when, a8 in the figure, it is the node where the moon descends from the half of its path which is above or north of the ecliptic to the half which is south or below the ecliptic. For the same reason, the other node, which is exactly opposite in the other half of the heavens, is called the as- cending mode, for it is the place where the moon Seems to ascend from the south- ern half of its path into the northern half. The line con- necting these two nodes is . called the line of modes, and half is shown by m. o. The position of the moon's Orbit When n is the ascending node is shown by m mſ. Observations soon showed that the moon’s path was not invariably fixed, like the path of the sun, but that it seemed to move slowly amongst the stars. Suppose we observe the moon cross the ecliptic quite close to the bright star called Regulus ; about twenty-seven days later we shall again see the moon crossing the ecliptic, but now it will be about a degree and a half, or three times the gº e apparent diameter of the moon, * of the farther west, and on the next “” Occasion it will be the same amount still farther west. The place where the moon crosses the ecliptic moves farther west every lunation, until, in process of time, it moves right round the ecliptic. Hipparchus, who was the first to exactly measure the inclination of the path of . the moon, carefully determined the time it took the node to move round the ecliptic, and found that it did so once in 18% years, which is very nearly correct, The well-known phases of the moon admitted of an easy explanation, as shown by Fig. 8, so that at an early period it was known that they were due to the moon being an opaque body illuminated by the Tays of the sun. In the centre of the figure we see the earth half entire illuminated ASTRONOMY. 81. illuminated by the sun and half in darkness, and round it we see the figure of the moon at different positions of its revolution around the earth, each with its illuminated and unillumi- nated hemisphere marked out by shading the latter. Between the two is the appearance of the illuminated part of the moon as seen from the earth, and constituting its phases. When the moon is at I, it is between the sun and earth, and its dark side being turned towards us, it is invisible. It is then said to be Weny. As it moves in its orbit, more and more of the illu- minated portion of the moon is gradually seen on the earth. When at the position 2, which is some four days after men, moon, it - appears in the western skies as a Phases of the smallcrescent. When at 3, exactly IIl Q0Ils half of the illuminated hemi- sphere, or one quarter of the entire moon, is seen, and it is therefore, said to be at its First Quarter? Gradually more and more of Ä the moon is seen, Aſo until, on Teaching ;" the position 5, the hemisphere can be seen from the earth, and themoon is said to be J'ull. Now the amount of illu- minated portion which can be seen slowly lessens, until at 7 again exactly º halfthe illuminated 9 ºzzi: hemisphere is visi- %2% ble, and, the moon is said to be at its Third or Last Quarter. But now the portion. Of the hemisphere of the moon which can be seen is exactly the half which could not be seen at first quarter. Lastly, less and less of the - bright portion of the moon can be seen, until it finally disappears, and arriving at I becomes again me?v. Suppose the Sun appears to be at e on the ecliptic when the moon overtakes it, then, instead of passing in front of the sun and causing an eclipse, the moon will seem to pass below it at m if n be the descending node, or, above it at m' if n be the ascending node. But suppose the Sun seems to be at n when the moon overtakes it, then the moon will pass in front of the sun whichever node n may be, and an eclipse will happen. Solar eclipses, then, only happen when the moon is new. These solar eclipses were regarded as matters of very great importance in early times, so that when their cause was known, much study was devoted to finding out when they would recur. Solar eclipses may be divided into two classes— namely, total eclipses, when the entire sun is hidden by the moon, and partial eclipses, when VOL. I. sºm- Eazyż FIG. 8.--THE PHASEs of THE MOON. only a portion of the sun is so hidden, The former are much the more important. After a time astro. Solºeglipses, nomers discovered that in a **** partial. little more than eighteen years the moon, the Sun, and the ‘moon's node all came back to very nearly the same position again, so that the eclipses began to recur in the same Order and on the same days as they did before. This period they called a saros, and it enabled them to predict the eclipses of the sun with some success. After . Some time the ancient astronomers found that the use of this cycle called the saros only enabled, them to predict a mere fraction of the eclipses of the sun, and that if they wished to be more successful it was im- perative that they should master the Jaws governing the motion of the moon in its orbit or path in the heavens. This knowledge of the - motion of the moon was only obtained as the fruit of many years' assiduous Study and con- stant observation. Atan early period it was found that the moon did not appear always to move with the same velocity in its orbit, but that at times it seemed to move faster than at other times, so that one half of its revolu- tion around the earth was per- formed in a shorter time than the other. This was .exactly the same thing they had discovered of the motion of the Sun. If, then, a table is formed giving for any time the place of the moom in the heavens, constructed by Supposing it to move uniformly round the earth Once in 27 days 7 hours 43 minutes 11% Seconds, it will be found to be seldom correct, because, as the moon moves faster at some times than at others, the moon will be sometimes in front and at -** % other times behind the place it would have had if it had always moved at the same Tate. Hipparchus, the celebrated Grecian astronomer, carefully observed the moon, and ascertained at what times it moved faster and at what “ times it moved slower. He then showed how the correct place of the moon might be ob- tained by means of a second table which he constructed, and which gave the amount by which it was necessary to correct the place of the moon given by the first table, in order to take into account this unequal rate at which the moon moved in its path in the heavens. He also constructed a similar table to correct the place of the Sun, which, as we have seen, 6 * 82 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. also moves with unequal velocities. It was soon found, however, that whereas the Sun moved fastest always in the same place in the heavens, this was not the case with the moon, but that the place where it seemed Fº * to move fastest, or its perigee, as it In OOIl : * ū º & l its motion, * called, was slowly advancing in the heavens; and Hipparchus as- certained that it advanced from west to east light round the heavens in a period of nearly nine years. This discovery he took into account in forming his Second table. º &: 'ºZºº; F-st ź º Af º ſº > º - º Wººſe Rºgº º §§§ {{º}}: &ººººººº Yºğ º &º.ºs º .S. sº Bºº º, sº "...º º' ºs-º,-º **** Nº CHE º sº II, THE whole of the elements, throughout the entire series of the compounds they are sus- ceptible of forming with one another, are found to be subject to an immutable law. They will only combine in certain fixed and definite pro- portions by weight which are Row elements found to be constant for each ele- combine, ment, however numerous its com- pounds, Let us assume, for the sake of illus- tration, that an element enters into chemical union with one volume of oxygen. If it form another compound with this gas it will contain exactly twice the weight of oxygen that the first contained, and so on for all and every pos- sible combination of this gas with any other element. Let us assume the weight of an element capable of uniting with one volume of oxygen to be 1, while that of oxygen is 2. Then every successive combination of this element with oxygen, supposing it capable of forming more than one, will be as 1 to 4, 1 to 6, 1 to 8, and so on ; no intel mediate combinations such as 1 to 13, 1 to 3, or 1 to 5 are possible; and this is true of all the compounds of this element with every other element. To what conclusion does this lead us : Matter not Why, that matter is not divisible j beyond a certain point—that there are cel tain finite or ultimate par- ticles termed atoms, and which, as their name signifies, cannot be divided. On this basis is founded the celebrated law of chemical com- binations in multiple proportions; and as Dalton, the chemist, was the first to enunciate the theory of the ultimate indivisibility of matter, } ... it has received the name of “Dal- Daltºn's atomic ton’s alomic theory.” We are far *Y. from saying that this conclusion is to be accepted as final: as our knowledge increases, Dalton's theoly may have to be abandoned ; meanwhile, we must accept it as the only one that will explain the law of che- mical combination in multiple proportions. As the law holds good for every element, whether it | that we must distinguish between atomic and specific weight or gravity. For . e instance, the ultimate particle or Atomiº and atom of carbon is lighter than . that of oxygen, yet the former "“” always presents itself as a solid, while the latter is a gas, Again, the weight of a piece of gold is greater than that of a lump of lead of the same size, yet the atomic weight of lead, is somewhat greater than that of gold. This leads us to a consideration of the various forms or conditions under which matter presents itself to our senses. These are the solid, the The exºmple of liquid, and the gaseous; and we water, have good reasons for supposing that every ‘particle of matter of which the universe we inhabit is composed at one time existed in the form of a liquid or a gas, and we are justified in assuming that if the temperature of any inorganic Solid were raised in a suffi- ciently high degree it would again pass into the condition of a liquid and finally into that of a gas. Some bodies do not pass through the intermediate liquid stage before becoming gaseous; while others, that are susceptible of . being liquefied by heat, also pass directly from the condition of a solid to that of a gas. Water, at the temperature which ordinarily prevails in this, country, presents itself under the form of a liquid. At the temperature indicated by 0° on the scale of the centigrade thermo- meter, or at 32° on Fahrenheit's scale, it assumes the condition of a. #. a solid. If, on the other hand, necessary. we raise its temperature to 100° on the centigrade or to 212° on the Fahrenheit scale, it is, under the normal pressure of the atmosphere, rapidly converted into an invisible gas; but at any temperature between this and freezing point water is constantly being con- verted into its gas by the process known as evaporation, and this does not wholly cease even when in the solid form, as a lump of ice exposed to a dry atmosphere slowly diminishes in bulk and weight. Of course, in either case, if the air has already taken up as much water gas as it can contain at the existing tempera- ture, or is what is termed saturated, it refuses to take up any more, and evaporation ceases. If, therefore, we find that solids can be con- verted into the liquid or gaseous state by the , application of heat—the degree of heat required to effect this change diffels im- mensely for different bodies—the converse must likewise hold good, and any gas may be compelled to assume the liquid or the solid state by lowering its tem- perature in a sufficient degree. The elemen- tary gases of oxygen and hydrogen had long resisted all attempts at liquefaction, even at the lowest temperature that could be produced by artificial means and with the assistance of the utmost pressure that could be brought to bear on them. Quite recently, however, the feat has been accomplished, the feasibility of which has never been doubted did we but possess the Solidification of gases, Nature of solutions, presents itself under ordinary conditions in the means of effecting it; and at a very low tem- form of a solid, a liquid, or a gas, it is evident perature, and under the pressure of several CHEMISTIſ Y. 83 hundred atmospheres, both oxygen and hydro- gen have been liquefied, if not solidified. . Of course, on the removal of the pressure, these bodies instantly revelt to their original con- dition of a gas. We may here draw attention to the fact that many liquids possess the faculty of forming an . in t i m a te union with 'solids without meanwhile losing the liquid form. Such compounds are termed solutions. Of all solvents water is the most universal —that is to say, it is capable of holding a larger number of Substances in solution than any other fluid ; at the same time, some bodies not soluble, in water are so in alcohol, bicarbide of sulphur, and other fluids. Some Substances are more readily soluble in cold water than in hot, and vice versä. We all know that both salt and Sugar are soluble in water. Many of our readers, if they have never made the experiment, would be surprised to find how many lumps of Sugar we may dis- Solve in a cup of hot tea without the latter losing its fluidity. The liquid, ‘of course, increases in weight in the exact proportion of ' that of the Solid added to it, and it becomes denser or inspissated. At length a point is reached at which the tea refuses to take up or * * * * dissolve any more sugar, and the sº solution is º to be # saturated.” a. This point is, however, reached much sooner with many other solids—that is to say, they are less soluble than salt or sugar. Quicklime is Soluble, to a certain extent, in water; and the solu- tion, like every true Solution, remains per- fectly clear and gives no evidence to the eye of the presence of a Solid in the water. If we now take a small tube and, through it, blow into the water, so as to Cause our breath to pass through the 'so- lution, a change takes place, and it becomes cloudy or milky in appearance. What has taken place 7 a chemical combination has been effected,—the carbonic acid gas of the breath has united with the lime, all invisible as it was in the water, and the result has been the formation of carbonate of lime or chalk, a substance only very partially A saturated Solution, F ACRTS OF A BRILLIAN T. FA CRTS OF A ROSE DI AM ON U. soluble in water, much less so than lime; and we have an example of the difference between the condition of a body that is held in solution and one which is only held in sus- pension. In the latter case there is no such intimate union as in the former, and the liquid is Tendered opaque and is oloured by * he body helá Sºlutiºn." e suspension, In SuspenSIon, and if the mixture be allowed to stand long enough it will deposit the solid as a sediment at the bottom. This never takes place in a solution. How- ever long it be allowed to stand, the same volume of the liquid, whether taken from the top or the bottom: of the vessel containing it, holds the same proportion of the solid in solution, nor can we separate them. by any means short of evapo- rating or vaporizing the liquid, which in its altered condition of a gas is no longer capable of holding a solid in solution. The sub- stance thus re- covered will, Rºy of if the opera. ºolid from * p solution, tion be con- ducted with sufficient care, revert to its original crys- talline form on becoming solid, if it belong to the class of substances having a tendency to assume that condition. Crystallography, or the theory of crystalliza: tion, has, of late years, concentrated on itself no small share of scientific thought and in- quiry. Up to the present time, however, we know but little of the laws by which it is º governed ; and this deeply interesting, but abstruse branch of physics, opens a wide field of speculation and research. Substances termed crystal line have a tendency to assume this state, not only when lecovered from their solutions, but also when they pass from the liquid or gaseous into the Solid form. Each lody. On entering into this con- dution assumes the Spe- cial crystalline struc- ture by which it is distinguished, and this. tendency is one we c n in no wise, alter or destroy. We may pound a salt or other crys- tallizable substance in a mortar; We may cause it to be dissolved in a liquid, or to pass through any ordeal we please short of alteling is chemical structure: We can never 84 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. destroy its ineradicable tendency to Tevert, under favourable conditions, to the crystalline state, nor can all our art effect the slightest change in the fixed and finite forms which it then assumes, although these may vary with e different allotropic states of the Tºnitºmº same substance. They are, in **Y* many cases, of infinite beauty, and so various that it would be vain to attempt any enumeration of them ; the inspection of any cabinet or collection of crystals will convey a better idea of their configuration than the most lengthy verbal description. The whole subject, although involved in obscurity, is deeply interesting, and the thoughtful stu- dent of nature is fascinated by the sight of lifeless matter growing into shapes of the most exquisite symmetry and harmonious propor- tion under his very eyes. Who can behold without emotion the needles of Symmetry of ice shooting across the surface of *Y* still water, or covering our win- forms, d * it.} & rab f e ow-panes with an arabesque o wondrous beauty 7 Well may Tyndall exclaim, “Nature lays her beams in music” Many substances require to enter into combination with water in greater or less proportion before • they can assume the crystalline state. This water which is thus built up into their struc- ture is termed the water of crystallization, and if driven off by heat, the salt or other substance can no longer retain the crystalline form, and falls into a shapeless powder, which is termed its amorphous state. We see, therefore, that matter, even in the solid state, may present itself under forms so different as to render it impossible of identification by any but the * practised eye. This leads us to *Piºm, say a few words on the subject of allotropism, as it is termed. We have already stated that many chemical compounds, al- though constituted of precisely similar ele- • ments, shall yet exhibit attributes the most opposite and diverse; but even an elementary substance may present itself under a guise so different to its ordinary one that we may utterly fail to recognize it. The ozone of our atmosphere, which certainly affects our senses in a way very unlike Ordinary oxygen, and whose hygienic properties have been so highly ... extolled, is held to be an allo- An ºpiº tropic condition of that gas. But º perhaps the most startling ex- **** ample of allotropism to which the novice in the wonder-world of chemistry can be introduced is that of carbon. If we hold a plate over the flame of a gas-burner or oil lamp, we shall very soon obtain a deposit of Carbon this substance in a tolerably pure amorphous, form and amorphous condition. graphitoidal, Charcoal, lampblack, soot, all orystalline, consist chiefly of this substance. Graphite or black-lead, of which our drawing- pencils are made, and in which it assumes a pseudo-crystalline form, is another condition under which this body presents itself. And lastly—and this is the crowning marvel of the allotropic series—the diamond, the hardest and most durable of all substances, the purest of all gems, the one that displays the colours of all other stones while it surpasses them in lustre, is but carbon or charcoal in the crystalline form l We fear that this statement is often received with incredulity by those who know little or nothing of the laws of chemistry; and the objection is raised, “Why then can we not make diamonds ourselves?” The answer to that is very simple. We have tº gº ºf already stated that a body ex- : hibits a tendency to crystallize “” when it reverts from the liquid, or gaseous state to that of a Solid. If any of our readers will tell us how to convert a lump of charcoal into either of the above conditions, we shall probably be a step nearer to the means of . manufacturing diamonds than we are at pre- sent.* A French chemist has, we believe, under circumstances which it would be useless to attempt to describe at present, succeeded in producing crystals from charcoal hard enough to scratch glass, but unfortunately so small as to be commercially valueless. We have yet to discover nature's method of manufacturing diamonds on a larger Scale. Although we can- not convert charcoal into diamonds, we can perform the opposite experiment of converting the diamond into charcoal, and thus demon- strate its true nature. The experiment is, how- ever, rather too costly for frequent repetition. Newton, with the prescience of true genius, may almost be said to have anticipated the discovery of the true nature of the diamond : drawing his infer- ence from certain of its physical attributes, he predicted that it would be found to be con- Newton's view. nected with carbon or its compounds. SUBTRACTION. SUBTRACTION is the method of finding what number remains when the lesser of two num- bers is taken away from the greater. The number so found is called the remainder or the difference. Thus if we take away 3 from 5, the remainder or difference is 2. By carefully and patiently comparing the above processes with the following rule, the latter will be firmly grasped, Rule for subtraction :- . Place the lesser number under the greater, so that units stand under units, tens under tens, and so on. Beginning at the units end (i.e. the right hand), subtract, if it is possible, each figure of the lower number from the figure just above it, and write down each difference. But before we give the usual rule for sub- traction, the following reasoning will help us to understand it :— * Since the above was written crystals of carbon have been produced artificially. Suppose we want to take 235 from 746. Now 746 =6 units + 4 tens -H7 hundreds. 235 = 5 units + 3 tens –H 2 hundreds. ... the º = 1 unit -- 1 ten + 5 hundreds. of 235 & 746 ſ = 511 in, our notation ; and we see that this difference was got by writing down the difference of the units, and then the difference of...the tens, and then the difference of the hundreds. Now, before we go further we must under- stand the following principle, viz., that if two numbers be increased by the same quantity, their difference is not altered. For example, the difference between 9 and 7 is the same as the difference between 9 increased by 10 and 7 increased by 10, for the difference is 2 in each case. Again, the difference between 100 and 150 is the same as between 130 and 180, for it is 50 in both cases. .. Now let us try another case of subtraction. Suppose we want to take 157 from 342. Now 342 = 2 units + 4 tens + 3 hundreds, and 157 = 7 , , -ī- 5 , -ī- 1 3 y If we now try to subtract, we cannot do as we did in the first case, for we cannot take 7 units from 2 units. But we can get over our difficulty by the aid of the principle explained above. Let us add 10 units to the upper number, and 1 ten to the lower. This will not alter the difference of the two numbers. The numbers then become, 12 units + 4 tens -H 3 hundreds and 7 } } —H 6 } } } } We can now subtract so far as the units are concerned ; for 7 units from 12 leave 5 units. But we meet the same difficulty when we come to the tens, as we cannot take 6 tens from 4 tens. We must call in the aid of our principle again. This time we shall add 10 tens to the upper and I hundred to the lower number, and by so doing we know the differ- . .ence of the two numbers is not altered. Our numbers are now 12 units + 14 tons + 3 hundreds and 7 }} + 6 * } 53 We can now subtract the tens and the hun- ‘dreds as well as the units, and the result is, 5 units + 8 tens -- 1 hundred; or 185 in the usual notation. - Thus if any figure in the lower number is greater than the figure just above it, we must add 10 to the upper figure, and then subtract the lower figure from the upper thus increased. Write down the difference so found. Carry 1, and add it to the next figure of the lower Inumber, and then subtract the lower figure so increased from the number just above it, adding 10 to the latter if necessary. Proceed in this way with all the figures. The figures so written down will be the required difference. Illustration, of the Rule, 1. Take 282 from 325. Arrange thus:— 2 from 5 leave 3. Write We say 325 down 3: 8 from 2 I cannot, but 8 282 from 12 leave 4. Write down 4 — and carryl. 1 added to 2 makes 3. 043 3 from 3 leave 0, ... the differ- ence required is 43. A RITEIMETIC, Q 85 w 2. Subtract 364 from 4621. 4621 We say 4 from 1 I cannot, but 364 4 from 11 leave 7. ... write down 7 and carry 1. I added to 6 4.257 makes 7, 7 from 2 I cannot ; but 7 from 12 leave 5. . . write down 5 and carry 1. I added to 3 makes 4. 4 from 6 leave 2. ‘.. write down 2. There is now nothing to carry, and there are no more figures in the lower line, ... we have nothing to subtract from 4, so we say 0 from 4 leaves 4, ... write down 4. Thus the required difference between 4621 and 364 is 4257.* The sign —, called minus, when placed be- tween two numbers, means that the second number is to be subtracted from the first. Thus 5 – 3 means that 3 is to be subtracted from 5. . . 5 – 3 = 2. Eacamples. 1. Find the differences in the following Ca,SGS : — e (a) 18 (b) 130 (c) 6751 (d) 4302 (e) 751 I 2 75 2030 1622 236 sºr 2. Find the remainders in the following C2S6S – 651 – 230; 78 – 69; 892 – 11 ; 1358 – 269; 785 – 369 ; 2500 – 97 3. Find the value of (a) 23 + 52 – 17 ; (b) 650 – 25 + 35 — 16 (c) 370 – 49 – 6 ; (d) 723 — 85 +85 – 3 4. (a) Brown had 53 marbles; Jones 17 less than Brown ; Robinson as many as Brown and Jones together, minus 21. How many had they all together ? (b) A basket contains in all 1562 apples, pears and Oranges, 721 of them are apples and pears, and 901 pears and Oranges. How many more apples are there than pears ? (c)"What number taken from 650 will leave 2007 and what number added to 200 will make 650 7 & (d) What number taken from 573 will make 3 more than 70 ? (e) In a match of cricket, A, B and C to- gether scored 126, of which A and B together scored 105 ; and of this A alone scored 35. How much did B and C each score ? (f) If I pay £10 for some hay, and £7 for some straw, how much more do I pay for the hay than the straw 7 (g) From a bag containing 1760 counters 880 are stolen ; how many are left? (h) A man walked 23, miles one day, and 8 miles another : how many more miles did he walk on the first day than on the second 7 Answers. 1. (a) 6. (b) 55. (c) 4721. (e) 515. 2. 421; 9; 881; 1089; 416; 2403. 3. (a) 58. (b) 644. (c) 315. (d) 720. 4. (a) 157. (b) 60. (c) 450. (d) 500. (e) B scored 70; C21. (f) #3. (g) 880. (R) 15. * We may prove the correctness of our answer in any subtraction by adding the lesser number to the difference. If the sum thus found is the same as the (d) 2680. | greater number, the answer is probably right. 86 TIZE UNI, ERSAL INSTRUCTOR. THE VERBS,-AUXILIARIES OF TENSE. CŞüſſé-3ettibärter—Helping Time-words) Pſuelſs-tsite rvoerter THE Latin VERBUM, from which verb is taken, means WORD ; thus we have the proverb Verbum sapientibus sat, “A word to the wise is enough.” The verb is the one word indis- pensäble in a sentenge. Without it a com- plete sense cannot be expressed. The shortest sentence we can have in English is “Go | " which means, “Be thou going !” or “Do I " which means, “Be thou doing !” The shortest possible sentence is the Latin imperative “I/” (Go thou), from the verb ire; we have here a sentence consisting of a single letter. Now, as sentences cannot be formed without verbs, and as students of languages should begin to construct sentences for themselves' as early as possible, we shall here, deviating from the usual method, at once give some preliminary remarks concerning verbs, and then proceed to consider the three verbs, taben, to have ; ſepm or ſein, to be; and ºperbert—which, when it is used with the past participle of another verb, signi- fies to be, and when it is used alone signifies to become. There are in German, as in other languages, various moods (or manners) in which the verb is expressed. The INFINITIVE MOOD, which is not limited by time or person, and which simply names Je verb, may be known in English by the sign. To : to eat, to drink, to go; in German it is known by the termination en : effem, trinfen, geben-and in some of our old ess'-en trink'-en gay'-en g English authors we have the infinitive some- times ending in en. Chaucer says, “To liven in delight was all his wone” (custom); to “contrefeten,” for to counterfeit ; to “sayen,” for to say: “to holden’’ for to hold, etc. The INDICATIVE MOOD asserts or points out (in- dicates) a fact : (ºr ſingt, he sings. airr zingt SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD is dependent on the in- dicative, and is thus subordinated or subjoined to it. The signs by which it is known are the words that or may expressed or understood : (ºr ſiegt frant, he lies sick (indicative); ©te airr leegt krank 2662 ſagen er ſiege frant, they say (that) he lies zah'gen airr lee'ge krank e sick (subjunctive). The IMPERATIVE MOOD commands or entreats: 2ntmoorte midſt answer & ant'-vort-e meecht not l (jieb utmá unſer tāgſidječ Šrob! geep unsun'-ser taig'-lich-es brot us our daily bread | The CONDITIONAL is also considered a mood. It expresses an occurrence or a fact as dependent upºn another, preceding or accompanying it: $ toūrbe fontmen, . ich rvuerr'-de kom/-men Give The * toenn iſ 3ett batte, I should come if I had vemn ich tseit het'-te time. Thus my coming is made dependent or conditional upon my having time. Of the Tenses it may be observed, in the first place, that the word imperfect means incom- plete, and perfect complete. I had a holiday, 3d) batte einen $etertag (imperfect); 3d) ich hat'-te ey'-nen fy-err-tahg *ch babe einen $eiertag gebabt, I have had a haſ-be ey-men fy'-err-tag ge-hapt’ holiday (perfect). Thus the imperfect generally wants another word to complete the sense; the perfect states a fact completely. The plu- perfect (Latin plus quam perfectum, more than perfect) speaks of a thing that was complete before another subsequent thing, that is also past: 3d perſoy, , geſtern mein ich ferr-lore' gest-errn anime 98ttſ); mein 5teumb batte e6 mir gegeben, booch mein froind hat'-te ess meerr ge-gay'-ben I lost yesterday my book; my friend had it to me given ; here had given is pluperfect, for it was complete before the loss took place, which is also past. The SECOND FUTURE and SECOND CONDITIONAL are also called “future past, and conditional past.” The future past is used in speaking of what is future now, but will be past at the time of which I speak: for instance, “To-morrow I shall have been here a week”; my being here a week is future now, but will be past at the time of which I speak—to- morrow. Further particulars concerning the use of moods and tenses will be given in due course. & THE VERB @ a 6en, To HAVE. (The verb habem, to have, has two separate characters. It is an auxiliary when it helps to form certain tenses of other verbs: Sū) babe 'ich ha-be geşārt, , I have heard. It is a transitive verb ge-hoert' º when it stands alone, and has a separate mean- ing—to possess: 3d 9abe eine 98ſumte, I have a flower.) Principal Parts of the Verb. Infinitive mood. Past (imperfect). Past participle. baben, to have batte, had, ge)abt, had. ha'-ben Jºat'-te ge-hapt' INDICATIVE MOOD, Present Tense. Sd, babe, I have 'ich haſ-be. Øu (aft, thou hast doo hast (Śr (G5te, e3) ſat, he (she, it) has air" (zee, ess) hat Sir §aben, we have areer,' haſ-ben $5r jabt, ye have e6?"r havt ©ie baben, they have zee haſ-ben * With regard to pronunciation, it must be remembered that the letters ša in jaben are always pronounced like the English excla- mation “hal hal” therefore jaft in German must not be sounded like the English hast, GERMAN. 87 nor ſat like the English hat; it must be the ah sound, but not long. The student should get Some one who understands German to read the verb carefully over to him, as no combination of English letters will exactly give the sound of the German Éaft and bat. N.B.-In poetry, the Sûr 9qbt of the second person plural is often lengthened into 9abet. Imperfect. Sd) batte, I had ich hat'-te Øu batteſt, thou hadst doo hat'-test º (ºr batte, he had ayrr hat'-te $ir batten, we had veerr hat'-ten 351 battet, ye had cerr hat-tet ©ie batten, they had zee hat-ten Pronunciation, etc.—Remember that the stress is always on the first syllable, which is here the radical OT Toot syllable, containing the meaning of the word; while the final gives only the change belonging to the tense. In Chaucer's time the English had (the imperfect tense) was written “hadde,” and pronounced as two syllables: “Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.” Perfect. $d) babe geſ)abt, I have had ich ha'-be gehapt’ Øu jaſt geſabi, thou hast had doo hast gehapt (ºr bat gehabi, he has had airr hat gehapt §§ir baben geºdót, we have had veer hat-ben gehapt $br jabi gelyabt, you have had eer” hapt gehapt Gjie baben gebabſ, they have had . zee ha'-ben gehapt The perfect is thus merely a repetition of the present tense with the past participle geşabt (had) added. The ge is the prefix that marks the past participle: thus, ſeben, to see; geſehem, seen. In the old English this ge was softened into y. Thus in Chaucer we have “ywriten” for written, “yshadowed ” for 'sha- dowed, “ystored" for stored. The past parti- ciple is formed in a regular verb by putting the ge before the infinitive, and changing the termination en into t—ge-hab-t. pronounced as in the English word anger ; the accent is here on the second syllable : pronounce ge-hapt’. Pluperfect. $d batte ge)abt. I had had ich hatte gehapt Øu batteſt ge)abt, thou hadst had doo hat'-test gehapt (ºr §atte ge)abt, he had had airr hat'-te gehapt t §§ir batten ge)abt, we had had veerr hatten gehapt $5r battet § you had had eerr hat'-tet gehapt The ge is ©ie batten geşabt, they had had zee hat-ten gehapt The pluperfect is the form of the imperfect, with the addition of the past participle geşabt. When the verb consists of more than one word, the tense is called compound. In compound tenses, the past participle and the infinitive which form part of the tense are put to the end of the sentence when the sentence is simple and direct—that is to say, when it begins with the nominative case. Thus: He has had a book, (ºr 9at ein ºbud, get abf; I had had an apple, 3d) batte einen 2ſpfel gebäbt. Future. $d, merbe baben, I shall have ich vairr’-de ha'-ben 3)u mirſt baben, thou wilt have doo vierrst (śr ſpirb habem, he will have ayrr vierrt §§ir verben flabem, we shall have veerr vair'-den $91 merbet 9aben, ye will have ee?'r vaiºr'-det ©ie merben baben, they will have zee vairr'-den Here we have the auxiliary merben, which, when used with an active verb, signifies “shall” or “will”: 3d moerbe ein Sud) baben, I shall have a book. Second Future, or Future Past. 3d perbe ge)abt baben, I shall have had ich vairr'-de ge-hapt' ha'-ben Øu mirſt getabf, baben, thou wilt have had doo vierrst ge-hapt’ ha'-ben (ºr motto ge)abt baben, he will have had airr vierrt ge-hap't ha'-ben Ščir verben geşağt babem, we shall have weer vair'r'-den ge-hapt’ haſ-ben [had $51 merbet ge)abt, baben, ye will have eerr vair'-det go-hapt ha-ben [had ©ie merben ge)abt, baben, they will have zee vair'-den ge-hapt’ ha'-ben Here the verb is compounded of three words. Both the past participle and the infinitive are moved to the end of the sentence: 3d) merbe einen 2pfet umb eine &irſdje gehabt jabem, I shall have had an apple and a cherry. THE CONDITIONAL. $d) pārbe babem, I should have teh ºvue,"r'-de ha'-ben 3)lt mittbeſt babem, thou wouldst have doo' vuerr-dest ha'-ben. ($r mitröe jačcm, he would have a yr" muerº'-de Jia'-ben .9Sir Ivárbcn baben, we should have veerr vue'r'-dem ha'-ben. $9.1 pittbet labelt, ye would have cerr vuer?'-det ha'-ben. ©te mirben baben, they would have zee vuerr'-den ha'-ben. The imperfect of the auxiliary myerben—moutbe with the limiautor modulation on the u (moirbe), expresses the idea “should " or “would,” as noerbe expresses “shall.” 88 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. IF the reader has carefully considered and fairly mastered the facts to which his attention has been directed, and the con- º clusions drawn from them, he 38 ” will have gained some general ideas of great importance respecting the study upon which he has entered. It will have occurred to him that the changes which have taken place in the Mendips—the rising and sinking of the land, the deposit of great thicknesses of mud, which now make up the several kinds of strata there to be seen, the curving and crumpling of these strata, and their subsequent denudation—cannot have been isolated phenomena. What was going on at the same time in other parts of what are now the British Islands ! Is there any record elsewhere of the inter- val that elapsed be- tween the upheaval of the strata that make up the bulk of the Mendip \range and *he deposit of the “un- conformable" strata “which lie on their upturned ends? What- ever may have been the length of that in- terval, it was long enough to allow of the denudation of an im- _i \ —s them, for convenience, into three classes— Igneous, Sedimentary and Metamorphic. Jºneous 7'ocks are those which have been formed from molten material, and the part which these rocks and the forces tº gº tº they indicate play in the modifi-Volcanioaction. cation and renewal of the earth's crust is very important. We shall best understand the method of their formation by examining the structure of a volcano and the nature of its productions. Of the causes of an eruption we know next to nothing. We do not understand why it is that now and again a quantity of melted matter forces its way through to the earth's surface— nor do we know the extent of the reservoirs from whence it is drawn. The most generally accepted theory is that the increased energy which causes Volcanic outbreaks is induced by the expansive and explosive effects of steam, produced by the access of water to still highly heated fluid portions of the interior of the earth. The suggestion is a very probable one, but it is only a theory after all. What we do know is that vol- canic eruptions have taken place during every geological period, as well as in modern times. “There is pro- bably,” says an emi- nent authority, “no great region of the earth's surface where volcanic activity is not manifested now, or has not been mani- fested at some former period. So far as geological evidence can guide us, we have no reason to believe that there has ever mense mass of Tock : is that interval a blank in geological listory? Do the later strata there , shown close the story which the geologist has to tell? Are there any deposits known to be earlier? If there are, can we arrange them in their regular order of succession 7 Was there any animal life on the dry land 7 What do we £ngw of the inhabitants of the sea 7 What can we learn respecting the plants. Of the whole period 1 These and other questions we shall endeavour to answer in Subsequent lessons. We must, however, first consider a little more in detail the nature of the various kinds of rocks in general ; and this will now occupy Our attention. ROCRS AND THEIR CLASSIFICATION. The word “rock” is popularly applied to large Smasses of hard, stony material; the geologist employs it in a more extended sense to de- signate all masses of which the earth's surface is composed, whether hard or soft. The sands and clays of the London Basin, for instance, are “Tocks” fróm a geological point of view as truly as the hard masses which form the mountains of North Wales, the highlands of Scotland, or the Alpine Tange. We . divide IDEAL SECTION OF A VOLCANO. been any epoch in the earth's history when volcanic action has not been displayed. . . . not does geological evidence lead us to con- clude that there has been any diminution in the activity of the volcanic forces during the past history of the earth.” “ Let us now inquire what takes place when a volcanic eruption occurs. A mass of melted mat- ter forces its way from below the earth's surface upwards through ***** the strata. Finding vent in this * formed, manner, steam, fragments of rock and other material are blown out in a direct line to a great height. A portion of the matter ejected is carried away as dust and cinder by the wind —the larger part falls back and accumulates round the orifice from which it was thrown out, forming a conical mound. At times liquid matter rises to the top of the vent and boils over, forming streams of lava, and further con- Solidates, as it cools, the conical hill, which thus, as the eruptions continue, increases in size and stability. The foregoing engraving may serve to render this description a little more clear, * Geikie. º JHISTORY OF MOD ERAW TIMES. a represents strata broken or burnt through by molten matter from below; b the gradually accumulating ash and cinder, consolidated, by lava streams; c indicates a part of the under- ground mass that has supplied the erupted matter. Volcanoes may cease to be active, and lie dormant for a time, only to break out again into renewed activity; but we know also that sooner or later they become extinct. The heat dies away, the neck or pipe is , choked up with hardened lava, and the under- ground mass slowly solidifies. In process of time, as we might expect, and as in all the older formations has actually been the case, the volcanic cones are destroyed by atmo- spheric agencies, and disappear. The beds of ash (tuff) become consolidated, and with the lavas are partially preserved, often for a much longer time. Finally, the deeper seated bosses of rock, denuded of the superincumbent strata, are exposed to * view. In some instances the melted mass be- neath the sur- face has cooled without any part having found vent through a volcanic erup- tion, and in others all traces of the eruption have dis- appeared. , Let us suppose, then, a volcano to have become ex- tinct, and the processes we have described to have transpired, we should have as the result several kinds of arock composed of * the same materials, but differing greatly in character. “ - 1. Hardened beds of fragments and fine ash (volcanic breccia and tuff). , 2. Lava streams, either as volcanic glass or crystallized (pitchstones, obsidians, pumice, trachytes, basalts, etc.). 3. Deep-seated bosses, also crystallized, but distinguishable by their mode of occur- rence and the character of their crystal- lization (granites, syenites,.6tc.). 4. A group of rocks which appear to hold an intermediate position (felstones, fel- spathic porphyries, etc.). We are thus able to divide igneous rocks into two great classes: PLUTONIC, those formed º at considerable depths below the Plutonio and surface; and VoicANIC, those volcaniº roºk” which have been originally lava. flows, or have been made up of ash and volcanic fragments. * g Extinct and dormant volcanoes, Jifferent kinds of rock formed of the same material, -—º a BANITI; Bock TRAVE2s2D BY INT CUSIVI, VNIXS OF 5 BY GR GEAN INA (cAli LSBAD). GERMANY AND THE REFORMATION. THE Reformation was the great event which everywhere in Europe charac- terized the transition from the hº middle ages to modern times; Ref...tion. for it was in this direction—in te the struggle for emancipation from religious thraldom—that the strength of a world intel- lectually awakened was put forth. Everywhere there was a moving and a shaking of the dry bones of centuries; and the result of the struggle in the various countries,—in some triumphant success, in others failure, in others again a mixed issue partaking of the qualities of both, had the most powerful in- fluence on the Sub- sequent history of the nations individually. During the whole of the fifteenth century the dissatisfac- tion of all classes of society with the condition qf things in the Church had been steadily increas- ing; and the causes of that dissatisfaction be- came aggravated as time went On. One of the great objects of the Church Council at Constance, early in the century, had been . . to organize a reform that should Its immediate commence and proceed within the * Church itself. But when this Council, after executing vengeance upon the reformers John Huss and Jerome of Prague, had failed to *. fulfil its important duty of doing away with the scandals of the Church; and when the Church Council of Basle, that was to have taken up the work left undone at Constance, proved equally abortive—the feeling throughout the German empire was one, not only of dis- satisfaction, but of opposition, gradually de- veloping into active enmity and hatred among the laity towards the Church. The princes, jealous for the maintenance of authority, ori- ginally averse from any change emanating from the people, had hoped and expected that the necessary reforms would be initiated and carried out by the Church itself, and were ..angry that all warnings and exhortations to voluntary changes were disregarded by the popes. They complained that the clerical courts 90 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. interfered with the course of secular justice; that the right of granting dispensations, • . exercised by the Romish see, had State of church been extended beyond all reason- ** able limits, and overrode all authority; that the annates, or custom of paying the first year's income on the award- ing of a bishopric, the giving of offices and emoluments to . cardinals residing abroad, the manifold exaction of clerical taxes, all tended to impoverish the empire. The lower clergy looked with disgust on the mendicant 'friars, especially the Dominicans, who under- mined their influence with the people, and were favoured by the popes, whose supremacy they upheld with a zeal that was sometimes suicidal. The piously disposed were scandalized at the glaring contrast between the lives and the pro- fession of a part of the clergy, and at the world- liness of the bishops; thinking men were angry at the gross ignorance in which the people were kept, and at the - dark Superstition that manifested itself in the adoration of relics and in image and picture-wor- ship; while the learned were moved to scorn, not unmingled with dis- may, when they looked upon the utter ignorance, indifference, and narrow- mindedness of a large section of the clergy, blind leaders of the blind, who kept the people in the very depths of cre- dulity and superstition. The clumsy edifice of mediaeval theology was assailed with weapons drawn from the writings of classical antiquity, and still more by the Bible, which was a closed book to the people, and by passages from the earliest fathers of the Church. Many customs and insti- tutions connected with the Church were felt to have outlived their time, and to have become not only unnecessary, but objectionable; the right of sanctuary, for example, which interfered with the course of justice, and State of the afforded a method of escape for ***** criminals: the frequent hºlid monasteries, : ..., Q. olidays and Saints’ days, that promoted idleness and vagrancy, and thus became a stone of offence to the townspeople; and the numerous convents, with their doles to beggars, that directly promoted mendicancy. All these cir- cumstances working together produced a sin- gular unanimity of thought among the advanced spirits of the age, and the people those men endeavoured to influence. Popular literature took the form of satire against the monks and their supporters; and, especially in Saxony and the adjoining principalities, the Hussite principles, an offshoot of . the old Wycliffite movement of a century and a half old, had never been eradi- z: sº :* 2: Hussite principles, Éeºiſ; LUTHER's CELL AT ERFURT. cated, but were ready to burst forth again, when the hour should come, and the man. The man came forth in due time, not from among . the great ones of the land, or from the gilded palaces of the great, but from "among the working people. It was from a miner's cot- tage in a small Saxon town that the voice . was to issue that should proclaim through Germany and through Europe the news of freedom from the slavery of Rome. In the little town of Eisleben, in Saxony, was born on November 10th, 1483, Martin Luther. His father, Hans Luther, was an honest labour- ing man belonging to a family * .*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* * that Hans Luther brought up his *. little son creditably in the fear of God by the gains of his mining labours; and when the boy was of a suitable age sent him, with heartfelt prayer, to the Latin school, where Martin soon jearned the Ten Commandments, the Child's g Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and likewise the Child's Grammar, and psalm- singing. It was at Mans- feld that Luther received these rudiments of educa- tion; and as his father, who appears to have pos- sessed some ambition, designed him for the study of the law, he was taken, in his fifteenth year, to Eisenach, where, as a poor scholar, he was obliged to sing hymns with his companions at the doors of rich citi- zens, for his daily bread. “Despise not those poor lads who cry at your door Panem propter Deum,” said Luther once, in the height of his fame and honour; “I myself was once such a screeching boy, and have sought my bread at people's doors, especially in my beloved city of Eisenach.” In due time the young schólar, proceeded to the university of Erfurt; and it is related . by his biographer Mathesius that here for the first time he found, in the university library; a complete Bible, a Latin version, part of which he read with in- tense interest, astonished “at the many more texts, Epistles and Gospels than are usually explained in the homilies or from the pulpits ' in churches.” He had been diligently studying for four years, when a sudden calamity gave another direction to his life. His friend Alexis was struck dead at his side by a flash of light- ning : seized with horror, and the dread of. judgment to come, the young student resolved to work out his salvation by conventual aus- terities. He made a sudden vow to become a gº: º: gº E--- His education, monk ; for the last time he enjoyed the Society of his companions in a concluding festive meeting; and then, on St. Alexius' day, July 17th, 1505, having taken his degree at the uni- sº Sº Ş § Š SN Ş $S Sº SN N WN | § º §§§ - § Ş Ş ºš RºS N SN §§ º § Sº §§ § º # | | : º Nº. W \ §§ \; º \\ N W \\ §§ \\ \\ \ \\ § \\ |. | s % º % Ea ſº ſº 6 ºf º º, % fº/ſº % ſº LUTHKR's NINETY-FIVE THESRS AT Wharasw Bisse v ii U), cra Door- * 2 a. º % Ø2% {} & &% * % %; : Nº a º gºº. 2 &Z %: 3. %3 - sº % º: º ºf ºzº 2:3: y \\ \\ -- \\?\l'N' S QºYº N \s §§ * Sº sº - 92 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. versity, he immured himself in the solitude of a cell in the monastery of the Lutherbºmes Augustine Friars, at Erfurt. “I * , , entered the monastery, and left the world,” he says, “despairing of myself. I thought God would not take my part; and if I meant to go to heaven, and be saved, it must be by my own efforts. For this reason I became a monk, and laboured hard.” The monk in due time became a priest; and he seems to have worked with feverish anxiety, in the hope of gaining peace. The beginning of Luther's clerical career reminds us strangely of a passage in the life of John Bunyan. Like the inspired puritan, he was seized with a horror of great darkness. In vain did he en- deavour, by a zealous performance of monastic duties and a rigid subservience to monastic rule, to obtain peace for his soul. “The more I strove,” he says, “to pacify my conscience by means of fasting, watching, and praying, the less quiet and peace I felt ; for the true light was hidden from mine eyes. The more I sought the Lord, and thought to approach Him, the farther I departed from Him.” But the consolation he could not find in the works of the scholastics, or in hard penances, mortifications, andfasting, he found in the words - of the Bible. . At length he came *is Bible to the conviction “that man must *. scek salvation not through his works, but through faith in the imercy of God through Christ,”—and this became the foundation of his doctrine. Through the re- . commendation of Johann Staupitz, vicar-general of the order of St. Augustine, Luther was ap- pointed as lecturer on philosophy and divinity at the university of Wittenberg, newly founded by the Elector Fréderick the Wise. This was in 1508; and for some years we find Luther fully and congenially employed, preaching boldly against the fallacies of the scholastics and the doctrine of justification by works. “As I have begun,” he says, “I will go through with this work.” A journey he undertook to Rome, on the business of the convent, opened Luther's eyes as to the disgraceful state of things in the metropolis of the Church. “I have myself heard itsaid at Rome,” he tells us, “it is impossible that Smatters can remain in that state ; things must change or break down.” He was astonished at the pomp, the worldliness, and the wickedness displayed everywhere. His eyes were thoroughly opened. “He would not take a thousand florins inot to have been at Rome.” Great sums of money were at this time re- quired by the pope, for the completion of the architectural wonder of the world, The sale of the church of St. Peter in Rome. indulgen”. Accordingly, to fill the papal cof- fers, indulgences were sold to an extent and with an audacity till then unattempted. These indulgences promised the purchaser forgiveness of sins, the favour of heaven, and release from the fires of purgatory. Then it happened that the Elector Albert of Mayence, commissioned by Pope Leo X., caused a sale of these indul- gences to be preached; and like Chaucer's * Pardoner,” who travelled with his wallet full of “pardons from Rome, all hot,” there came to J . lution except to penitent sinners Wittenberg the Dominican monk Tetzel, who is reported to have brought with him an iron chest, wherein to deposit the sums collected, and to have boldly preached the startling doc- trine, that SO’soon as the money was deposited in the box, the soul on whose behalf it was paid was admitted into heaven (“So bald das Geld in Kasten klingt, Die Seel alsbald in’n Himmel springt.”). Indignation, alike at the traffic and at the manner in which it was pur- Sued, roused Luther to action. On All-hallow's Eve of the year 1517 he nailed to the church . door at Wittenberg, ninety-five theses or propo- sitions, denying the efficacy ofindulgence without repentance, and declaring that the pope had no right to give abso- The ninety-five theses, Oct, 31, tº s ſº tº 1517, —maintaining, moreover, that an indulgence, while it released those who obtained it from the punishment inflicted by the Church, could not obtain pardon from God. These pro- positions he pledged himself to maintain against all comers. The Teasonableness of Luther's theses, and the boldness with which the earnest nonk took up the cause of truth against error, Woke an echo throughout Germany, and es- pecially recommended Luther and his cause to the students at Wittenberg and elsewhere; and the effect was increased by the weakness of the arguments adduced against him by Tetzel and other champions of papal authority. Luther was summoned to Rome to answer for his con- duct; but the Elector, of Saxony, who was favourably inclined towards him, managed that the matter should be discussed not in Rome, but at Augsburg, where the learned Dominican Căjetan, the legate of Leo, undertook to put the refractory monktosilence. But the scholastic learning of Cajetan was Luther and no match for the earnestness, the 3. Scriptural reading, and the ready ajetan, wit of Luther, who after a short disputation was dismissed by Cajetan with an angry and peremptory injunction to appear before him no more until he was ready to recant his alleged errors. Luther was obliged to escape from Augsburg by niglit, with the assistance of of Some friends, after formulating an appeal to the pope, whom he declared to be misinformed. Thereupon the Elector was urged to deliver up Luther to the vengeance of Rome, or at least to banish him from the electoral territories; but he nobly refused to do either. He declared the reformer's wish for an impartial investigation a reasonable one, and became his powerful and consistent protector. d º * : * * . . . . ;:--s ºr ſº - G -.' - | " . . . . . - : ; * * : *, * -*-* º C -ºº º : tº . jº, L. Ǻ º V. ºg º ...: º- ºr , , -sºº, º Aº * = 2 * : 3 º G ſº. 3...º iſ tº 2–2. sº ºnnºr III. RULES OF PRONUNCIATION. The Simple Worwels. § 11. A. In a ratio of which the quantities are open to discussion, this vowel has a short FREAVCH PAPOWUAWOIATION. e 93 sound, which, for convenience' sake, we shall mark & and a broad sound, which we figure thus : ā. The short Sound imparts softness, and the broad roughness, to the pronunciation. The Parisian speech much affects the latter sound. From the broad a to the short à there . is a gamut, which faithfully adheres to the social scale; for whereas with the less educated almost every a is broad, and this as broad as can be, with the refined the broad a only comes to relieve the monotony which a con- stantly recurring Sound, however fine, would produce. Between ä and ā there is a medium a, removed by such a light shade from the short that M. Littré does not take it into account at all; the Académie, while admitting its exist- ence, gives no clue to its recognition. From what precedes, it will be gathered that the following remarks must be looked upon more as useful hints than exhaustive rules. § 12. A, initial or final, is short, and pro- nounced like a in cap :- acacia, acacia, pron, i-kā-sić. alla, he went, 35 di-lä. asile, shelter, 35 Čí-zeel. Canada, Canada, 23 Aä-mā-dà. ' moqwa, he mocked , 'mö-kā. Téséda, mignonette , Tay-zay-dà. EXERCISE I.—Read aloud several times the following words, which have the same sound:— abracadabra, incantation, caporal, corporal. drap (dra), cloth. hamac, hammock. lacs (lak), lakes. arbre (arby), tree. catastrophe (phe =f), catastrophe. chasse (shass), hunt. ſº 'malade (de =d'), invalid. © Camarade (de = d"), comrade. • There are hundreds more of the same kind. § 13. à, which appears alone, or at the end of a word, and not otherwise, is also pro- nounced like a in cap :- " à, to or at, pron. ii. çã, here, 5 * så. déjà, already, 2 ) day-zhā. lä, there, ſº lä, y ; à is broad, and proñounced like a in father : — âme, soul, pron, am'. bót, pack-Saddle, ,, ba. châssis, frame, , shä-see. cráne, skull, ,, crán'. gāteaw, cake, , ghā-to. pâtre,’ herdsman, ,, pâtr'. Tougeótre, reddish, ,, roo-zhātr'. theátre, theatre, ,, tay-atrº. . § 15. Remark.-The same broad sound of a in rather is met with in- (1) Words of which the singular ends in as : as (äs'), ace ; atlas (ā-tlás), atlas; bas (bâ), stocking ; (dà-mă), damask. (2) The syllable ase: base (bāz'), basis; case (kāz), hut, etc.; but vase, phase, and others, take the medium sound (see § 16). (3) The liquid syllable aille (see § 53): maille Gºnâ-l!'), mesh ; paille (pā-l!'), straw; taille trépas (tray-pâ), death; damas, (tā-l!'), size ; caille (cã-l!'), quail; canaille (kā-nā-l!'), mob; bataille (bā-tá-l!'), battle, etc. (4) Some words which have arr coming after a consonant : carreau (kā-ró), pane or tile ; barreau (bā-rö), bar (cf. § 16). (5) Casser (kā-say), to break; tasser (tā-say), to shake down ; passer (pā-say), to pass; lacs (lä), Snares; gaz (ghāz'), gas, etc. EXERCISE II.-Read aloud and commit to memory (sourid and sense) the following:— ananas (à-nā-nā), a pine-apple. cadenas (kā-dnă), a padlock. can evas (kå-rºvá), Canvas, casemate (kāz-māt), a casemate. chasselas (shū-slā), a species of white grape. matelas (mā-tlâ), mattress. ſpane. vasistas (vä-zee-stäs'), a practicable window- § 16. A medium sounds like a in arts. It is given to the verbal terminations: āt, dimes, &tes, the circumflex in these merely indicating the disused s : qu'il allāt (keel à-la), that he might go; nows plaçâmes (moo plai-sam"); we placed; vous visitätes (voo vee-zee-tat'), you visited. It is usually assigned to the liquid syllable ail (see $ 58), to arr and as coming after consonants (see eacceptions, $ 15), and to the termination ation : corail, coral; carrosse, carriage; basilique, church; casuel, accidental; vase, slime; phase, phase ; casserole, pan; consolation (tion = sión), comfort; chocolat, chocolate, etc. Remark.-It is perceived at a glance that although laws for the sound of a can be laid down, the law, if there be one, has yet to be discovered. That, however, it is indispensable to observe the various shades of a the following anecdote will show :-‘Un bon bourgeois cam- pagnard, devenu vieux, invité à, aller rendre visite à un nouveau voisim assCz éloigné, ré- pondit: ‘Je marche difficilement, mais mon âne me conduira.”—“Monsieur, j'ai un cheval a votre service.’— Maisy monsieur, c'est de ma fille queje parle."—Pardon, monsieur,i'ignorais que mademoiselle votre fille portät le nom . . . d’Amºe.'” § 17. AA, placed at the beginning of a noun, sound like one medium a º Aar (ar), a river; Aarbourg (ar-boor), a town. Aaron is pro- nounced Aron in poetry, whereas in prose both a's are slightly felt. In the middle of a word aa forms two distinct syllables: Baal (Ba-al), Isaac (Ee-za-ac). ... • § 18. E. To the eye only four kinds of e's are apparent : e, 6, 8, 8; but in reality there are six, viz.:- (1) e mute, as e in the English word table; (2) e slender, as win nut, but less marked ; (3) é close, as a in baker ; º (4) é semi-close, a shade more open than a in baker ; (5) & open, as ea in bread : (6) é open, and longer than é. § 19. E mute.—(a) Placed at the end of a word which contains another vowel it is not heard, but it allows the yoice to fall softly, and it is peculiarly precious in poetry and music. Here is what Voltaire, quoted by M. Littré, says of it : “Vous nous reprochez nose muets comme un son triste et sourd qui 94 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUOTOR. expire dans notre bouche, mais c'est précisé- ment dans ces e muets que consiste la grande harmonie de notre prose et de nos vers; empire, cowronne, diadème, flamme, tendresse, victoire, —toutes ces désinences heureuses laissent dans l'oreille un son qui subsiste encore après le mot commencé comme un clavecin qui résonne quand les doigts ne frappent plus les touches.” Examples: ôme, Soul, pron. &m/ église, church, , ay-gleez’ platre, plaster, , plátr' poupée, doll, ,, poo-pay' boue, mud, ,, boo' foie, liver, ,, food’ (b) When the e mute final is followed by a word beginning with a vowel or silent h, it is elided, cut off, and one word, as it were, is formed of the two : chose admirable, wonderful thing (pron. Shāsādmeerābl’), apre au gain, keen in the pursuit of money (pron. dpró gain); porte ourerte ou fermée, door open or shut (pron. portoovertoo fermay'). Remark.—Le, a personal pronoun of which the e is slender (§ 18), Tequires, like all objective pronouns, to be put after an imperative affirma- tive, as gardez-le. When the next word begins with a vowel or h mute, this le is not elided ; say gardez-le avec soin, and not lavec. In poetry, however, this occurs : “Mais, mon petit monsieur, prenez-le un peu, moins haut” (MOLIERE–Le Misanthrope); read premez-lum. Recent poets have not taken advantage of this Widence. sº (c) When such words as le, me, ne, se, etc., which have the slender e, stand before each other or before the verb, it is quite permissible to change the e slender into e mute, and, con- sequently, to elide the e altogether. Thus it is correct to pronounce : je n'le vois pas, I don't see him, for je ne le vois pas; and je l'vois, I do see him, for je le vois. This elision also occurs in the middle of a word : développement is read dévlopment. Of this latitude the Parisian avails himself extensively. There being no precise rules for its recurrence, the educated alone know where the clipping and running into are graceful and where they become vulgar. Foreigners should not attempt this at first ; as for the southern Frenchmen, they do not seem to be capable of acquiring it at all. (d) Ent, termination of the 3rd person plural of all, verbs, is mute : ils avaient, they had (pron. eel-zavé); elles cherchent, they seek (pron, ell shersh). But the t of the syllable ent would be sounded if the next word began with a vowel or silent h : ils avaient amassé, they had heaped up (pron. eel zavé timassay). Likewise, when a word ending in an e mute takes s for the sake of the plural, or in the verbal terminations es (2nd person Singular), mes, tes (1st and 2nd persons plural), no sound is heard unless the next word begin with a vowel or silent h, when the connection is made with the s. Examples: des pertes, Some losses (pron. day pert'); but des pértes in outes, unheard-of losses (pron. day pert' zeemaoée); tu aimes, thou lovest (pron. tu èm'); but tu aimes à rire, thou lovest to laugh (pron. tu 8m. rā reer). Thus : nous edmes (eilm'), and nous eilmes à partager (eilm'zā); vous faites (fait'), and vous faites eacception (fait' zeacception). (e) The e mute, placed between g and a, o, u, is there for no other purpose than to soften g before those vowels (see § 62). The necessity for this arises in a case where g soft being the final letter of a stem, as in manger, would become hard if a, o, or u were immediately affixed ; the original sound being thereby de- stroyed and the word rendered all but unin- telligible to the ear. Thus, if in manger we follow strictly the rules for the formation of tenses, we should obtain mangant (like parlant) . . for the present participle. This being read manghamt would pre-suppose the primitive stem mangh instead of manzh; hence the Orthography mangeant. Remark.-The elisions referred to in para- graph b are also met with in poetry, whereas those given in c and d would be quite inad- missible. Unless e mute is followed by a vowel or silent h, it becomes, in verse, e slender, but is breathed rather than pronounced. Example: “La Saxe est debout tout entière, Le flot sombre et vengeur va franchirsa frontière. La bataille sera dure, je vous le dis I e Le passé n'est pas mort. Charlemagne, jadis, Donna l'ordre qu’en Saxe eat la tête coupée Quiconque dépassait la hauteur d’une épée. Ce fut trop peu ! Bientôt viendront vos repentirs. O vainqueurs, prenez garde aux enfants des martyrs l’” (DE BoENIER—La Fille de Roland.) This passage, considered from the point of view of the e mute alone, must be read after this DOla DIlêI : “La Sax” est de-bout tout entiè-re, Le flot sombr' et vengeur va franchir sa, frontiè-re. La batai-lle/se-ra du-re, je vous le disi Le passé n'est pas mort. Char-le-ma-gne, jadis, Donna, l’or-dre qu’en Sax’ eat la tête coupé-e Quicon-que dépassait la hauteur d’un” &pé-e. Ce futºtrop peul Bientôt viendront vös re-pentirs. O vainqueurs, pre-nez gard’aix enfants des martyrs.” The same lines, read as a piece of (exceed- ingly) familiar prose, would offer the following sounds : “La Sax’est d’bout tout entièr’, L' flot sombr' et vengeur va franchir sa, frontaèr’. La bataill’s’ra, dur”, j' vous l’ dis I L' passé n'est pas mort. Charl'magn” . . . . . But we stop the process of desecration : we might be summoned for damages THE VOICE AS AN INSTRUMENT. (Continued). e THE point at which the vocal cords naturally change from the thick to the thin is just below the tone G, that note which stands •on the second line of the treble staff. . Most commonly the change takes place at F or E. This break is at the same point of absolute pitch in all voices, whether of men The breakin or Women. The voices of men the voice, and women are an octave apart in pitch; the MUSIC. 95 * *E*- compass of tenor and soprano, of contralto and bass, are, roughly speaking; the same, an octave apart. But it is not so with the registers, which are governed by absolute pitch. This break into the higher register is therefore at the very top of the bass voice, in the higher portion of the tenor voice, in the middle of the contralto voice, and at the bottom of the soprano. There is a break in the female voice an octave higher than the one we are speaking of, but it is of another kind, and will be spoken of presently. - The physical cause of the break is probably this: as the voice ascends in the thick register the cords are stretched more tightly at each note. When this process of tightening has been carried as far as the cartilages will bear the strain, the register is changed, and the thin edges of the cords vibrate, producing a higher sound with less effort. As the voice ascends, the process of tightening once more commences, and goes on until again the cartilages have reached the utmost point of tension. Beyond this point the voices of men do not go, but women have a still higher register. How is ..., this produced 7 The cords cannot *Peºuliarity be made either thinner or tighter. When we come to consider the rules of vibration, we shall find that there is only one way remain- ing in which the pitch can be raised, and that is by shortening the cords. For the pitch of a vibrating string depends on three things—its thickness, tension, and length. The thinner, tighter, and shorter a string is, the higher note does it give; and the thicker, looser, and longer it is, the lower is its note. Accordingly it is by shortening the cords that the highest register of women's voices is produced. We therefore propose to call it the “small register.” It is ... . sometimes called the “head voice,” The head voice, and may be heard from high sopranos, being easily distinguished from the other registers by its thin, violin-like quality. Madame Seiler, perhaps the most accurate ob- server of the voice, was long before she was able, by the laryngoscope, to see this highest register produced in her own voice. But at An ob ti last she succeeded, and here is her * observation: “With the F sharp on the fifth line of the treble staff the vocal ligaments suddenly closed firmly together to their middle, with their fine edges one over the other, leaving free only a third part of the whole glottis, close to the front of the larynx. The fore- most part of the cords formed an Oval ori- fice, which with each higher tone seemed to contract more and more, and so became º smaller and rounder. THE Tona R-FLAT. As PRO. The fine edges of the Bºx *** *** cords in this orifice e were alone vibrating, and the vibration seemed at first looser, but with every higher tone the ligaments became more stretched.” The three figures which follow show the production of a tone in each of the three registers we have described. The observer is supposed to be looking down upon the vocat cords from above them. In what, then, does the difference between good and bad, plea- sant and unpleasant voices, consist 7 We have séen how much the production of tone depends upon the tension of the cords. And we all know how different Sorts of Wood, of THE Tong E-flat as Peo- iron, of indiarubber, DUCED BY THE TIGHT whole etc., vary in their prºs. elasticity or power of bending from their natu- ral shape and quickly returning to it. We may well suppose, then, that one quality of good vocal cords is tension. Some singers, even without train- ing, can carry their registers higher than others by virtue of the natural strength of the cords. But the vocal cords also over- lap when they are -- at rest, and if their a swar, past of the rais edges are Tagged, EJO GRS WIBRATIN Gº. they imperfectly stop ſº the sound, and the voice, whether in speech or Song, has no clear “attack.” Again, the Tagged edges give rise to high and dissonant vibrations, which result in a thin, harsh tone of voice. Professor Tyndall notices this fact in his lectures on sound, and attributes the harshness of his own voice to a defective overlapping of the cords. Fortunately for the singer, however, the lungs and the larynx are not the only factors of the voice. It is the shaping of the mouth more than all that deter- mines the quality of tone produced ; and the physical part of voice-training, besides strength- ening the lungs and bringing the cords under the will of the singer, consists in learning to strengthen the good and suppress the bad ele- ments of which every sound is made up. The mouth, the third and last agent in voice production, can be put into a great variety of positions, so as to enlarge, or lessen, or alter its cavity, It is, in fact, the shaping of this cavity that i. The mouth, different vowels or qualities of tone. If we can imagine the vocal cords sounding without the mouth above them, it is true that they would give sounds of different pitch, but the quality would be throughout the same. It is the mouth alone that makes the distinction between “oo '' and “aa ’’ and “ee ’’ and the rest of the vowels. In voice-production the cardinal rule is, “throw the breath forward.” Do not let the tone strike the back of the mouth, or attempt to rise through the nostrils, but try ..., & to direct it upon the soft pad Thºma which stands immediately above ©s the front teeth. With all their disagreements, voice-trainers one and all say that tone is bad if it strikes the back.of the mouth. Yet in many parts of England it is such a common practice to speak and sing at the back of the 96 THE UNIVERSAL INSTR v CTOR. mouth that the habit is formed insensibly, and it is very difficult of cure. Speaking and sing- ing go together, both as regards quality of tone and clearness of utterance. * e full voice, a distinct articulation, show their beauty bothin speech and song, and this is an important fact for singers, to bear in mind. Next to “singing forward” comes resonance, which consists in shaping the cavity of the mouth so as to produce the best tone. It is an established scientific fact that every tone of the voice is a compound of several tones, which can be separated and heard by acoustical * - º , SSNS §§§ſ tºº g s instruments. The higher part of this mixture of tones is hard and dissonant. . It gives de- finiteness and brightness to the voice, but not volume or roundness. By shaping the mouth the lower tones of the mixture can be enforced and the higher ones disregarded, and this is what every singer must learn to do. But in singing, as in speaking, we do not always want the greatest depth and volume. We sometimes need clearness and piquancy. No One Would speak the words - The dear one is dying in the same quality of tone as The brooklet is dancing, and voice-trainers distinguish in singing be- tween these “clear ” and “sombre” Tesonances of the mouth. ſº The following table shows at Once the com- pass of the various voices and of the registers. On the left hand - side are the notes of the treble and bass staff, with the dotted lines to the right of them, showing the average compass of the four voices, soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass. Next, again, to the right are the pitch- names of the musical notes already given; and Compass of voices, A soft, round and tº REGISTERS AND VOICES, ſº i. Gº o cº 63 ă b e | • “Gº . . . g a Small. & I G : g & : . Fl Upper | : S. El º : "º Thim. . He’— : 5 I)l - : ſº : R. : —2— ; ; ; Thin. ; @ 2– ; # ° : : : F - S- gº : Upper —o– ; ; ; E ºr: ... C * ; : D : :* G : 69 * . Bl º —2— ; ; ; Ali º ; : G1 tº:-a-—— ; : F1 * ; : ) Thick. £º : - —&P : B, * 69 : A9 º sº F, the brackets accompanying show the average extent of the various registers. The line on the extreme right denotes the registers, getting thicker as it, descends, the dotted line showing the tones which are optional, OT can be pro- duced in either register. Of course the singer must learn to change from register to register with the least perceptible effort or change of tone. In this the art of singing largely con- sists. The soprano and contralto are the high and low voices of women and boys, just as the tenor and bass are the high and low voices of men. There is an octave in pitch between men's voices and those of women and boys. It must be understood that this division of voices is only a rough one. Voices differ in compass just as the human face differs. Sopranos which cannot sing high are known as mezzo-sopranos, and baritone is used to describe a voice between tenor and bass. The real contralto and bass voices are less common than the tenor and soprano. But an improved system of voice- training would result in the discovery of many new voices, and in the natural enlargement of compass in both directions. Mezzo-sopranos and , baritones are often untrained or lazy specimens of one or other of the four principal voices; and every singer should discover for himself, or by the help of a teacher, to which class his voice really belongs, or may be made to belong by gentle and natural training. ANCIENT HISTORY. - - 97. THE BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN EMPIRES. THE early history of these, the greatest em- pires of antiquity, so far as it is known, is a revelation made within the last forty years, The earth has literally yielded up its dead, and the labours of explorers and decipherers have brought to light records hidden for forty cen- turies, revealing a history of which only faint 4.0 $ff & 38 º TV, Nº. \ ~...~T“S. <&’ ° o ||| *...* The name Chaldea, although limited by Ptolemy and Strabo and other Greek geogra- phers to the south-western and Chald western portions of ancient Baby- €68, lonia, on the north-eastern confines of Arabia, was commonly applied to Babylonia in general. The Hebrew term was “Chardim,” or, “land of the Chardim " (Chaldees). Some writers think that the name was originally “Card,” changed in course of time to Chasd and Chald, and preserved in the modern Kurd. That some differences in chronology exist between the monumental records and the direct statements of commentators on the Old Testament is certain, but it must be remembered that the latter, Usher Chronology. 3. 46 7 8 ~ lº * -- A & \º ºsº, l , ,”, , ; ; G. U AIT C F--~~ A Nºi Aſs -. ---, -- A. °r, § {\e tº. As ºf *… * sº }^ nº. 1 *—ſsº-Tºol. 180 tº 4 i-- f iſ: *s-, 4 f f E/H% ; : =#| - } ſº ſ, J | |##!!! ---, ** ;3 ~ºff -, ſº. - d ! 2: - T & - 2-, 2-, 2-2, ºf Sº 3 º -Sº - - \\lill JºWºlull Allº, § § !\\ *|| §§ W £4% AFLEY. Wºº ( ) º IºWAS %2: ºùùùMW SN !) { fif oº: |\ |NS % w, vºſt/, ºf 19, & * *\º . * * 22 it, tºº. *...Y -> & : ===st § º: ||||||||I))); §iWü * 2 . º *== & Sºss> f =º §º - *. f #º) / #º / =sº §§§ y! *~ *- sº---wº §§ --" " sºsse --- #===3&# -- `-- >== ~s - == ...rempffiare zon: āşº .;,& > * Q 3 ºcºss ~~ Kº:S's *- *-º-º-º-º-º- D ==ES:ºs;sº *~ º ; -*t i º GROG R A PHICAL FIRATURES ILL U S I RATl, D. 102 TIIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. -- - it represents so satisfactorily the leading features of historical and political geography that it is probably the most convenient form that could be adopted. An ordinary form of map for portions of the earth's surface is formed by what is known as conical projection, in which the part of the globe depicted is fairly represented in shape by a portion of an “opened out” come, the apex of which is near the pole. The accompanying diagram represents this mode of construction for a map of Europe. Projection of maps, f 1 5 Q 5 |0 |3 E. : PROJECTION FOR A. MAP OF EUROPE. The form of map known as Mercator's chart, in which the meridians of longitude and paral- lels of latitude are drawn at right angles, is valuable in navi- gation, and is the only form of map which gives an unbroken view of the earth's surface; but, except on the equatorial line, is useless for purposes of measurement. The theory on which this chart is constructed is that of representing an opened out cylinder, the circumference of which is equal to that of the globeat the equator. Agreat dilatation obviously results, the polar regions being of the same ºbreadth as the equatorial; but this is to some extent rectified by the degrees of latitude being made to increase proportionably to those of longitude. A map (Latin mappa, a napkin, or signal cloth) is a representation of land, or land and water together; a chart (Latin chanta, a sheet of paper) shows coast or water suiface only, with indications of rocks, currents, soundings, light- houses, anchorage, and other matters important to navigation. - A map or chart is accompanied by a scale, by which distances can be ascertained. . g a.. usually represent geographica scale of miles. . § #. º English Statute miles. The geographical mile is the sixtieth part (one minute) of a degree of the equator, and is employed by mariners of all nations; but German geographers adopt a geographical mile which is the fifteenth part of a degree of the equator, or four times the Mercator's chart Maps and charts, length of the Ordinary geographical mile. This leads to considerable confusion—some writers, apparently unaware of the distinction, being misled in estimating distances. The Jºnglish statute mile is equal to 1760 yards, or 265 yards longer than a geographical mile, and is within a minute fraction the sixty-ninth part of a degree of the equator. *-m-m-m-m- nº ºf r sº.--~~~ * ... whº º º §§§ Nº. 2Sºº $C #$$$ºğ# §§ §tº: º §§º:{{&SS tº EXERCISE W. TRANSLATE into French :— - 1. Hasthe distiller any wine or beer? He has alcohol. 2. The brother of my baker is a * butcher. 3. The butcher's wife is the godmother of the confectioner's son. 4. The parents have children, and the grandparents have grand- children. 5. We have oysters from the oyster- woman and fish from the fish-hawker (f.) 6. Have you any coffeein (at) the kitchen? 7. Some one has my bread and milk.f. 8. Some have chocolate and pastry, and some have fruits and vegetables. 9. John, thou hast a shop; thou art a * greengrocer. 10. Jane is at the (covered) market or at my aunt's (at the house of my aunt). 11. Have the grocers chocolate and preserves? 12. Where are the miller and his wife (the miller's wife) 7 13. They are at the tavern or at the coffee-house, 14. At a wine- merchant's one has wine, alcohol, and also beer. 15. My cousin's foster-father is at the brewery. 16. A bar-keeper's son marries (épouse) the pork-butcher's daughter. 17. Where are we ? We are at the house of one of my uncles. 18. One of my aunts has the vegetables. 19. Hast thou papa's fruits? Yes, I have the fruits. 20. My mother is a corn-merchant's daughter, and my father is a chocolate manufacturer's SOIl. EXERCISE VI. Translate into English :— 1. Avant l'invention du papier, on écrivait Before paper wrote sur des tablettes enduites de cire, sur des écorces wport tablets laid over with was: barks d'arbres, et sur des peaux. 2. L'histoire est le trees skins history portrait des hommes et des temps. 3. Pythagore 172672 times JPythagoras croit que Dieu est une âme répandue dans tous believes that God soul diffused in all les étres de la nature, et dont les àmes humaines beings in jrom which hºwman. Sont tirées. 4. Les artssont enfants des richesses drawn oriches et dela douceur dugouvernement, 5. Woulez-vous mildness government do you wisk. º etre heureux une journée, portez un habit neuf; happy for a day 2000/- coat new une Semaine, tuez un cochon; un mois, gagnez week kill pig month gain * Do not translate a, because butcher and green- grocer are here used adjectively. f A possessive adjective pronoun is, like the article, repeated before each noun of a series. AOTA NY. un procès; une année, mariez-vous; woulez-vous Ław-suit 3year 7720.7° do you wish l'être toute la vie, soyez honnète homme, SO all be homest 6. Les bonnes femmes Sont toutes au cimetière. good all churchyard 7. Les maximes de la Rochefoucauld sont les maacims proverbes desgens d'esprit. 8. Les habitudes de proverbs clever people habits. la vie publique en usage chez les peuples libres life public in use among nations free 'ont cet avantage, que la vérité “se fait jour * this advantage that tºwth. pierces en dépit des intérêts et des conventions in , spite interests conventionalities qui conseilleraient de la cacher. which might advise to it hide. Translate into French :— 9. The history of the greatest princes is histoire (h mute) plus grands often the narrative of men's errors (of the Souvent récit (m.) errors of men). 10. We are neither indebted fautes - on me doit mi for the mariner's compass to a sailor, nor for * boussole (f.) e marin mi the telescope to an astronomer, nor for the télescope (m.) astronome & magnifying-glass to a natural philosopher, nor microscope (m.) Aphysicien Jon' printing to a literary man. Most of these imprimerie (f.) homme de lettres. La pluptºrt ces inventions are due to chance. 11. Study is - dues advantageous to the mind; adversity is useful avantageuse esprit (m.) adversité (f.) utile to the soul; experience is necessary to men. âme (f.) experience (f.) nécessaire 12. One saw generals raise a siege and lose a vit générauw lever siege (m.) , perdre town in order to obtain (have) a relic. 13. ville (f) pour relique (f.) Jean-aux-Veaux pretended in the day-time to jaisait semblant jour (m.) be afraid of a calf, and, at night, he went and &’avoir peur veau (m.) la muit allaſt stole oxen. TA. Old Marshall de Trivulz voler boufs (m.) Le view.c maréchal de Tºivulz used to say, “Three things are required to disait Il jaut frois choses pour Wage a successful war : money, more money, faire” bien." guerre (f.) argent (m.) encore 15. Danton's famous fathewa: and and still more money.” toujours apothegm, “Audacity, more audacity, apophthegme (m.) audace (f.) encore still more audacity,” is of a more recent date. toujours *plus *rēcente date (f.) 16. A great number of nations have a favourite grand nombre (m.) peuples * *favori dish : one knows the cress of the ancient * onets (m.) commait cresson (m.) anciems Persians, the “rice and roast lamb” of the Arabs; JPerses couscoussow (m.) Arabes the swallows' nests of the Chinese ; the caviar * d'hirondelles mids (m.) Chinois (m. of the Russians, the plum-pudding of the Ičusses (m.) English, the olla-podrida of the Spaniards, the Anglais (f. Ispagnols Sauerkraut of the Germans, the oil-and-garlic- chowcroute (f.) Allemands bowillabaisse (f.) Soup of the Marseillais, Let us not forget the m’oublions pas black broth of the Spartans. *noir 'brouet (m.) Spartiates * Use no article here. hasard (m. h asp.) etude (f.) sº sº Y. sº ‘. ºº: : ſ g º º,-3. A º Sºº & ę ºf sº § º º - º º AN IV. THE ROOT AND THE STEM. THE root and the stem have many points of resemblance. Each consists of a main trunk from which proceed lateral branches, dividing and sub-General charao- dividing' into “rootlets” in the ter of stems. One, into “twigs” in the other ; and each, when full-grown, consists of an interior woody portion and an integument, excepting that the latter is wanting in Palm-trees and a few other plants in which true bark has its place taken by an indurated crust. The essen- tial differences between them are told quite as Soon. Stems consist of a succession of distinct lengths separated by joints called “nodes,” the intervening spaces being the “internodes.” The nodes are usually at regular diminishing or increasing distances from one another; the inter- nodes are consequently successively shorter or longer. A very pretty and intelligible illustration of this is supplied by the stem of the common Stitchwort, Stellaria, JHoloştea, which may be so readily broken up into pieces, the separations taking place at the nodes, that among the many rustic names for the plant are “snap-stalks" and “break-bones.” At every node there is a leaf, or an imperfect leaf of the kind called a “scale"; or there may be two leaves, or - even from three up to FIG. 17. THoRNs of Rose. as many as eight or nine, a. Place of thorn torn as in the sweet Woodruff. Off. The inner angle between b. Base of the thorn. the base of the leaf and - the stem is termed the “ axil,” and in this thoro is usually a bud capable of elongating into a twig, which in turn produces other leaves with a new generation of buds; the result, after a few years'growth, being the beautiful composite Tamification which is seen in its perfect form in the head of a tree. The plan of development is thus one which, if carried out to its full extent, would ensure absolute symmetry; but it is scarcely ever effectuated in actual life, very many of the buds being abortive or getting destroyed. Were the whole of them to develop into twigs, these in turn becoming branches, it is obvious that they would so entangle and interlace, that in a little while there would be no room left, and the entire mass would be self-stifled. Nature, no less admirable in her expedients and economy than in her inventive- ness and munificence, anticipates and guards I04 THE UNIVERSAI, INSTRUCTOR: against this disaster by the suppression, through one agency or another, of the Super- fluity of buds, leaving just enough to engender in the full-grown plant its own peculiar and characteristic physiognomy. Even when de- nuded of their foliage by the cold of winter, how exquisitely diverse the profile and con- figuration of trees It is then indeed that their architecture is most plainly disclosed, and that the inmost principles of the construc- tive beauty of the tree are made apparent, just as when it was required of Paris on Mount Ida to say which of the trio was comeliest, “The rival goddesses the veil divine Cast unconfined and gave him all their charms.” This, again, makes it evident why trees should be studied in the depth of winter quite as energetically as in summer, if we would learn them accu- rately. Botany, we are reassured by the same con- sideration, is not a pastime simply for the season of flowers, but one which runs abreast of all the days of the changing year, and which even death and decay supply with oppor- tunities. Roots, on the other hand, are destitute of articu- lations. Hence they have no inter- nodes, no regularly increasing or di- minishing lengths, no leaves, and no buds. No provision is made for any regular or symme- trical ramification. The rootlets strike out, as it were, capriciously, as may easily be ob- served in a radish. They divide and subdivide as occasion requires, and the final result is an amorphous mass of fibres, the older or parental ones more or less thickened. In forest trees the thickering is often considerable, as may be observed when following some well-beaten and shaded footpath through a park, where the great subterranean parts of the tree have had their covering of earth worn away. The roots of çertain kinds of trees possess the power, how- ever, of developing, under special circumstances, “adventitious” buds, well exemplified in those of old willows. As regards the interior struc- ture, it is important to note that in the great di- vision of flowering plants called.Exogens,though there is a central column or thread of pith in the stem, in the root there is no pith. Stems, it may be added, are often hollow, as is well illustrated in straws, but roots are always Solid. General charac- ter of roots. FIG. 18.—BRANCH of ELM. The primitive, fundamental, and typical form of a root is that of a simple fibre, more or less branched, and more or less en- larged. In many plants, however, Appendages to there are produced also great ots fleshy tubercles or fangs, as in the dahlia, a very interesting miniature of which is found in the common Pilewort, the innumerable little golden wild-flower with the heart-shaped leaf, which accompanies the early primrose and wood-anemome. Rest on this a moment. How seldom we have to go out of Old England for an illustration of a fact in botany Old England is a picture in little of the whole world; its simple wild-flowers teach us every- thing; the rarest and costliest exotic can do no more than they do. Very curious and in- teresting examples of tubers and tuberculate - roots are likewise supplied by the two drop-worts, OEmanthe croéata and Sp i r a a Pilipendula. The roots of a plant are very frequently also .the store- houses of the par- ticular secretion or product in the manufacture of which it employs itself. It is from the root, for ex- ample, that the invaluable dye called madder is procured. So with the roots of the Turnip, the Carrot, the Parsnip, Horse- radish, and many other s quite familiar. The STEM, the next part in order, is a delightful sub- ject for study. It is this which in- troduces us to the aërial life of the plant; it is to & this that we are indebted for the * * lifting up of leaf and flower to . an agreeable height above the * level of the ground, advancing each, as it were more directly into our presence; and in the case of the trees, again the inestimable trees, rearing their crowns on high, so that our eyes may be constantly invited upwards. Being provided, as above described, with nodes and buds, as a rule the stem branches out in every direction. This, at least, is the case with the exogenous class of flowering plants— those which have distinct bark, wood, and pith—though even here there are exceptions, as in the case of the papaw-tree of the West Indies, a miniature image of which is found in the wild English Trientalis. There is a large family, however, comprising the great majority of the Palm-trees, and other BOTA NY. 105. “endogenous” flowering plants, in which, as a rule, there is never produced more than one bud, which is terminal, or at the apex of the stem. These accordingly (the single-budded) are incapable of branching, and the tall slim shafts, so conspicuous, in the case of the palms, in tropical scenery, are as naked from base to Summit as the columns of a Greek portico. The bud being terminal, of course the leaves are the same. In the palms they are always of prodigious size; and compensate, in their magnitude, in the grandeur of their place and personal carriage, and in their perennial ver- dure, the want of the ramification and the unbrageousness * * * which, taken to- 2׺ gether, give the Ž2aºs glory to the Exo- gen. When, in Scripture and else- where, “branches of palm-trees” are spoken of, it is by accommodation of the language to the appearance of things to the popu- lar eye, since only the botanist would perceive that these huge leaves are leaves only, and not branches; cer- tified therein, most particularly, by the absence of buds from the axils of their many leaflets. Stems perfectly branchless are said to be “simple.” When stems are too slender and weak to stand erect, they either trail upon the ground, and then usually take root at the nodes, as in the strawberry, or else they prac- tise the skilful art of climbing. How of stems trated in many species of the Now it is known not to be so, and the enigma of their life is deepened. Ah, how much there is in botany still awaiting intelligent scrutiny Weli might Isis conclude her legend with “No man hath lifted my veil.” Stems which climb through extraneous aid do so by means of ten- drils or of hooks, organs pertaining properly to the leaves and flower-stalks, as will be men- tioned by-and-by. How singularly diversified, again, the forms The typical shape would seem to be the cylindrical, well illus- Forms of stems. great family to which the hemlock and the wild angelica be- long, also in canes' and in the stems of the Corn-plants, such as Wheat. But sometimes the stem is flattened edgeways, as in the grass called Poa compressa ; or it is mathemati- cally triangular, as in many Sedges, common plants of the pond sides; or it is absolutely Square, as in most of the Labiatae. Now and then it is dilated in such a way as to have a thin green wing along each side : this happensin the everlasting pea. The stem is sub- ject also, more or less, in common with the leaves, to be clothed with hair, down, velvet, or vegetable wool; and quite as often presents the oppo- site extreme, the surface becoming sleek and smooth as satin, and not infrequently po- this is effected by º lished and lustrous. the ivy has already FIG. 19. –GROUP OF LEAVEs. The hairs, as in been mentioned. TOSes, sometimes Some, as we shall see presently, have artificial help ; the beau-idéal is exemplified by the tºviners. What is more beautiful than the green spiral of the common Scarlet Bean; the ever-curling ingenuity of the Woodbine; the ascent, round and round, like an in- Verted Tinglet, of the Convolvulus 7 So won- derful and engaging are the phenomena of the life of the climbing stems, that Mr. Darwin has devoted an entire book to them. Some of the twiners curl from right to left; others turn from left to right. Formerly it was thought that these contrary methods belonged respect- ively to the northern and southern hemispheres. acquire formidable size and strength, then re- ceiving the name of prickles. They are known to be nothing more than hairs by their readily breaking away at the base from the surface on which they stand, this declaring them to be like Ordinary hairs, simple outgrowths of the cellular substance of the cuticle. Stems are prone to be armed, not only with prickles, but in other cases with a weapon of still severer nature. This is the spine, well illus- trated in the common Hawthorn, the Sloe or Blackthorn, and the Restharrow—that lovely wild pea-flower which opens and closes its rosy petals with every change of the sky. I06 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ; are totally distinct from prickles. While Nature interdicts excessive development of buds, she also places a check upon the elongation of twigs. . The lateral branchlets, in the plants named, are their onward growth : they were able to have pro- ceeded indefinitely, but Na- ture says, Stop, and they cease in a hard sharp point. A “spine” may thus always be distinguished from a prickle by its terminating FIG.20. FIB Rous Root, a shoot, or twig, or being in an axil, and by being Organically united to the woody substance Within. In the hawthorn we have the con- stant spectacle of minute leaves upon the spines, little atoms full, as it were, of faith and expectation, but doomed to progress no further. Stings, such as those of the nettle and the Loasa, also belong both to stem and leaf, though found in chief abundance upon Q ſº ſ FIG. 21.--TUBEROUS ROOT. the former, and therefore referable to it more particularly than to the latter. Stings are hairs no longer simply cellular, but Organized in such a way that, after puncturing the skin, they can inject a, drop of venomous juice, thus resembling the poison-fangs of certain kinds of serpents, to which creatures nettles bear a more than purely fanciful analogy. Of the nettle, we have commonly wild in England two very distinct species, called respectively Urtica dioica, and Uitica. 70'ems. The former is the ordinary nettle, attaining a stature of three or four feet ; the urens is considerably smaller, and of a brighter green, and the clusters of flowers are partly concealed among the foliage. The stings are much more venomous than those of the dioica, whence the specific name, which signifies “burning.” The Loasas are little annuals from the warm parts of America, with curious star-like flowers, which are either yellow or red, and which would recommend them for garden decoration, were it not for the stings, arrested in • COI) CGI’ll S Uls : ENGLISH : Tºš º === Sºś º E. # ###Eğ % § Sæ § § Fºg ºf ºff sº.--> º §§§ | Bºrrºs º Pºssº *- º a wº Rºvº Sºlºvnº * tº-ſºs §§ºğ §§ Tifi'īlīsīšć$ºšŠč. III. (continued). . How the kinship of languages is found. . Families of speech. . Indo-European family. . Asiatic branch. - . Buropean branch. . Teutonic group : LOW-German tongues. . Scandinavian tongues. . High-German tongues. . Recapitulation : Table of languages. § 19. It is found by means of comparative grammar that the relationship of languages can be traced on two grounds : 1. Whan the grammatical inflexions (or shapes taken by words under different circumstances) are closely alike ; 2. When there is a general agreement in the words that represent ideas common to all men in all times, such as near relationship, —6.g., father, brother, mother, daughter ; nu- morals, one, two, three, etc. Grammatical structure, and the Roots of home ovords, are then the principal parts of languages, on the : º 1. : comparative study of which their kinship or non-kinship is recognized. $ 20. The languages of the world belong to four or five great families or stocks. Of these the Indo-European or Aryan is the one which the Semitic, comprehending Assyrian, Hebrew, and Arabic; the Hamitic, embracing ancient Egyptian and Hottentot; the Dravidian, including Japanese, languages of north-east Asia, the Caucasian dialects, and others not entirely defined, have little or no bearing upon English. § 21. Long ago, in the regions of central Asia, in the highlands north of the Himälaya mountains, there must have dwelt a people speaking one language, and having attained a considerable degree of civilization, of whom there is no history nor any written record; whose only monument lies, not in their own language, but in the languages of their de- scendants. “It can be proved by the evidence of language,” says Max Müller, “that before their separation the Aryans led the life of agricultural nomads—a life such as Tacitus describes that of the ancient Germans. They knew the arts of ploughing, of making Toads, of building ships, of weaving and sewing, of erecting houses; they had counted at least as far as one hundred. They had domesticated the most important animals—the cow, the horse, the sheep, the dog; they were acquainted with the most useful metals, and armed with hatchets, whether for peaceful or warlike pur- poses. They had recognised the bonds of blood and the laws of marriage; they followed their leaders and kings; and the distinction between right and wrong was fixed by customs and laws. They were impressed with the idea of a Divine Being, and they invoked it by various names.” There came a time—perhaps more than three thousand years ago—when these people left their country and separated different ways. A race of probably several tribes, extending JENGLISEI GRAMMAR. 107 over a large tract of country, it is believed that they had dialects and varieties in their speech while still among their ancient valleys, and that the increase and fixing of these sounds, under the influence of new modes of life, led to the growth of dialects into distinct languages. This is the people to whom Francis Bopp gave the name of Indo-European, Max Müller the name of Aryan : Indo-European, because, as we shall see, they branched off into Asia and Europe; Aryan, from Arya, a national name meaning honourable, noble. They called them- selves the Aryans, the noble, in distinction to their neighbours whom they did not know, and therefore despised. § 22. The Aryans diverged in two great branches. One of these remained in Asia and crossed the Himälayas ; again parting into two chief companies, one stock settled in Hindustan, where, among the ancient Hindus, Sanskrit had its home ; the second in Persia, where the Zend tongue arose, the tongue of the old fire-worshippers. In course of time those tribes spread over India and Ceylon, Afghanistan, Persia, and Armenia. This is called the ASIATIC branch ; it comprehends all the Indian languages which have sprung from the Sanskrit and the Persian. w § 23. The other great tribes, of the second branch, travelled westward, at different times; some after others. It is as though each suc- ceeding wave of migration conquered the preceding settlers, or pushed them faither west. Six great tribes are distinguished in this EUROPEAN branch. (a) The first who came were the Kelts; they settled in various parts of Spain, Italy, Germany, Gaul, and the British Isles. We find them in two main classes—the Cymric and the Gaedhelic ; the languages belonging to One or the other are still spoken in the west of Ireland, the Scottish Highlands, Wales, the Isle of Man, and Brittany. Cornish was a Cymric dialect. (b) The Italic—often called the Romanic– tribes, passing through Wallachia and Moldavia, left a portion to carry on their language there in after times, and coming to Italy drove Out the Kelts. The languages of these tribes are also grouped in two classes: to the first belong Latin and the old Italian tongues ; to the second those languages which have descended from the Latin dialects, called under the general name of the IRomance languages. They are seven—Italian, French, Provençal, Spanish, Portuguese, Roumansch (spoken in southern Switzerland), and Wallachian. (c) The Hellenic or Grecian tribes settled in the peninsula of Greece. Many dialects of their wonderful language, both ancient and modern, remain to us as monuments of their after history. The Albanian language is be- lieved to be a cousin of the ancient Greek. (d) The Teutons followed the Kelts in the centre and north of Europe ; they planted themselves in Germany and Scandinavia. The languages which we have from their tribes are divided into three classes: Jon-German (spoken formerly in the flat lands lying on the shores of the Baltic, and of the North Sea between Denmark and Belgium), Scandinavian, and Iſiſ/h-German (spoken at first in the high lands of central Germany). We will return to this group in the next section. (e) The Slaves or Slavonic tribes swelled the last great wave of migration ; they fixed their settlements on the great plains in the east of Turope, Russia, and Poland; others gradually spread over Bulgaria, Servia, Croatia, and Bohemia. . (f) With the Slavonian tribes it is supposed came the Lithuanian or Lettic peoples, who settled in Lithuania, Livonia, and north-east Prussia. They are sometimes grouped with the Slavonians. Nearly all the languages, ancient and modern, of Europe are thus taken into account by the Indo-European family; there are, however, a few which do not belong to it—namely, the Turkish, Hungarian, Basque, Finnish, Lappish, and Esthonian. § 24. Each of these broad groups divides itself again, as we have seen, into classes marked by different degrees of kinship. The Teutonic group, to which English belongs, must be now examined a little more closely. The name Teutonic was given to the group from the Teutones, an early tribe of the Germans; it originates in an Old High-German word signifying people, 7tational: the Teutons were the people, distinguishing themselves from the foreigner. The Germans at the present day call themselves Deutsch (the same word as Dutch), which comes from the same root. It is worth notice that the names which ancient nations gave themselves were frequently names of honour; those which they gave to foreigners expressed contempt, they did not understand them. So, while the Aryans, the Teutons, and the Slaves (from Slavo, meaning renomºn), all were known by honourable appellations, others got such names as Barbarian, meaning un- intelligible, or Welsh, which meant a stranger; hence both signified “foreign.” The Teutonic group is marked off by three principal divi- Slons:– I. The Low-German, comprising— . Gothic. . Old Saxon (not Anglo-Saxon). . English and Lowland Scotch. . Frisian. j. Dutch. 6. Flemish. II. The Scandinavian, comprising— 1. Icelandic. 2. Swedish. 3. Danish. 4. Norwegian. III. The High-German, comprising three stages— - 1. Old High-German. 2. Middle High-German. 3. Modern High-German. It must be remembered that, in arranging these classifications, languages of all dates are included for the sake of their affinities, but it does not follow that all are or Were existing as spoken tongues at the same time. In the : I08 THE UNITTERSAL INSTRUCTOR. present group the Gothic and the Old Saxon . are now dead languages. I. Low-German,—Gothic, once spoken by the Goths in Dacia, has left us the oldest book of any in Teutonic literature—a translation of the Gospels, made in the fourth century by Bishop Ulphilas, and the fragments of a calendar; yet though these are all the remains of what was once a living language (for the Gothic appears not to have given rise to any modern tongue), they are most valuable to scholars in helping to work out the connection of more modern languages in the group—such as English and German. More modern, remark; time, in speaking of languages, is relative. Old Saa.on.—This was the Saxon of the Com- timent, and was spoken in the districts of Essen, Münster, and Cleves, between the Rhine and the Elbe. A poem called the Heliand, a version of the life of our Saviour, written in the ninth century, still exists in this language. English.-Our language, thus standing among its kindred, naturally embraces some varieties, the first of which may be taken as Old English (often spoken of as Anglo-Saxon), which has branched off into Lomºland Scotch, Modern English or the cultivated language, and the Provincial English of local dialects. Jºrisian,—Of this, which is the nearest to English of any of the Teutonic languages, We have Old Frisian and Modern (see before, § 18). The following short list of Old Frisian words will show how closely some of them run with English :— Old Frustan. JEnglish. herwst, harvst harvest halt halt half half hors horse rida ride Song, Sang Song fridom freedom thenne then thiaf, tief thief this, dis this Wif wife werka, work Wet, Wet, weter, water Water field field Dutch and Flemish.--These two are both known in an old form and in a modern. § 25. II. Scandinavian. — The Icelandic, among the Scandinavian languages, is the oldest and purest ; that is, it has retained the forms and words of the early tongue, umaffected by the modifications or development which its sister languages have undergone on the Conti- ment, Iceland was colonized from Norway in the ninth century. Its people, in their remote corner of the world, cultivated a noble litera- ture, which they left to their descendants, who now speak the same language but little changed from its older form. Norse, or Old Norse (terms sometimes employed in an indefi- nite manner) rightly belong to Old Norwegian, not to Icelandic. Two peculiarities mark the Scandinavian languages from the rest of the Teutonic group, which are interesting to note ; one of them bears upon some of our own words:— 1. The definite article (en or et, or the word which answers to our English the), is placed after its noun, and joins with it in one word. Thus the Danish has kong EN (kong-en), the king; hjerte.T (hjert-et), the heart; the Swedish, komung EN (konung-em), the king ; bordeT (bord-et), the table. In Old Norse, fati T, the foot. 2. The word which stands in these languages for the English self, a reflexive pronoun, as in I mayºm MYSELF, is joined to the verb, added on to the end; thus (Old Norse), at falla, to fall down, having sik = self, added, makes at fallask, to drop oneself down. “In English we have borrowed at least two of these reflexive , verbs : namely, bu-sk, from the Icelandic bu-a, to prepare, make ready, direct one's course; and ba-sk (=bak-sk), from the Icelandic bak-a to warm, which is identical with the English bake.”-—Morris. I bask in the sum—that is, I bake or warm myself ; here the verb preserves its exact meaning ; in the wold busk (usually known in poetry) we have lost the complete sense of the original, and requine another word to finish it, as in the limes, “And gather flowers to busk your brow; ” “O busk ye, O busk ye, my bonny, bommy bride.” § 26. High-German,—The Old High-Gelman means the dialects which wele spoken in different parts of South or Upper Germany (Bavarian, Swiss, and others) till the middle of the eleventh century. Middle High-German was spoken in Upper Germany till the end of the fifteenth century. Modern High-German succeeded; it is the language of lutelature, and of the cultivated classes of all German people at the present day. All the High-German languages are distinctly marked from those in the Low-German and Scandinavian divisions by regular interchanges of sound, which have become recognized as features peculiar to the members of this division. § 27. We are now in a position to answer the question in § 18. English has not been derived from German, nor from Frisian or Flemish, but it stands in relation to these last as a sister, to the German as a cousin ; all own one common origin in the Teutonic stock; while, making a remove further back, this stock sprang from the same source that gave birth to five other branches of the great Indo-European family. Finally, these six European sons meet, in ages far back, their ancient cousins of the Asiatic branch on the heights of Central Asia. The facts may be usefully tabulated in the following form. How English arose from its historical beginning we shall now proceed to discuss. TABLE OF INDO-EUROPEAN LANGUAGES. * 1. Sanskrit (dead) 2. Hindú, Hindustani, Bengali, Mahratti (descended from the Sanskrit) 3 CIngalese (Ceylon) 4. Gypsy dialect Iranian or {. Zend, the old language of o Hindú Persia, Persian 2. Pol Sian | ASTRONOMY. 109 wº- . Bas Breton, or Armorican (Brittany) Welsh . Erse, or Irish . Gaelic, or Highland Scotch . Manx (Isle of Man) . Latin (dead) and old Italian / | dialects of North and South Italy 2. The Romance” languages (a), Italian; (b), French; Keltic i *::::ianſ." sprung from the Latin— {} Provençal; (d), Spanish ; (e), Portuguese ; (f), Rou- mansch ; (g), Wallachian 1. Ancient Greek (dead), with Hellenic, various dialects or Grecian 2. Modern Gj. 2 1. Low German— (a), Gothic ; (b), Old Saxon; {} English ; (d), Frisian ; e), Dutch ; (f), Flemish 2. Scandinavian— - (a), Icelandic ; (b), Swedish ; (c), Danish ; gian 3. High-German— (a), Old ; (b), Middle ; (c), Modern High-German Russian | Teutonic (a), Norwe- 1. 2. Bulgarian Slavonic K3. Illyric 4. Polish 5. Bohemian 1. Old Prussian (dead) {} Lettish (Livonia) 3. Lithuanian. Lettic (We herein follow as far as practicable the lines marked out by Dr. Richard Morris, to whom the science of modern English grammar is under great obligations.) º º sº º &Nº: SºśS § % For many years these discoveries of Hip- parchus enabled astronomers to predict the great majority of solar eclipses; but they found that the hour at which they occurred seemed exposed to some systematic error. TWO hundred and fifty years elapsed before the cause of this was discovered by the famous Ptolemy, a Grecian astronomer, and a worthy successor to Hipparchus (A.D. 100–170). He found that there was still another inequality in the motion of the moon, by which the moon was sometimes in advance and sometimes behind the place assigned to it by the two tables of Hipparchus, by as much as three times its own diameter. This new inequality was sub- sequently called the erection. Careful study showed him how this new inequality acted, and he was enabled to construct a third table which gave him the correction it was necessay to apply to the two tables of Hipparchus in order to obtain the true place of the moon in the heavens. - These discoveries enabled astronomers to * The term Romance, originally applied to the Pro- vençal, the Latin language of that part of Languedoc conquered and civilized by the Romans; the Roman province has been extended to the other languages derived from a kindred Source. satisfactorily prediot the eclipses of the sun and to fix the time of new and full moon, which was then a * matter of considerable import- ance; and the tables seemed to very satisfac- torily represent the place of the moon. Towards the end of the sixteenth century Tycho Brahé discovered two other still smaller inequalities in the motion of the moon, and so rendered the tables still more accurate, though raising their number to five. These two new in- equalities were subsequently called the variation and annual equation. It was discovered by Tycho Brahé that the moon was not always at the same distance from the earth, because he found that at times it appeared larger than at others, showing that it must be nearer to the earth. He also found that when the moon seemed to be moving fastest it then appeared to be largest, and was therefore nearest to the earth. A most important dis- covery, as later on will be seen. A principal point to which astronomers had to devote their attention was to ascertain the distance of the moon from the ... earth. The first to accomplish Distance of the this with accuracy was the cele- II100ER, brated astronomer Hipparchus, who fixed its distance as fifty-nine times the radius of the earth ; and Ptolemy, his successor, made it slightly greater. Tycho Brahé determined the mean distance of the moon to be rather over sixty times the radius of the earth. The method by which these astronomers found the distance of the moon was by ascer- taining what is called the paral- laa, of the moon, or the apparent alteration in its position when it is looked at from a different position in space. This is shown by Fig. 9, where E is the earth and M the moon. Suppose the moon is observed at early morning when it rises, the observer will be at e, and the moon will be seen in the direc- tion m'. As the earth rotates in the direction shown by the arrow, the time will arrive when the moon is about to set, and the observer will be at e"; then the place of the moon will be at m", or as much to the west of its true place ºn as in the morning it was east. This apparent change is called the moon’s parallax. If we know this parallax or angular displacement E Me', it is easy to draw the triangle M Ee', and measure the proportion of E M to Ee'; and in this way, from knowing the parallax, we can tell how many times the radius of the earth Ee' is equal to the distance of the moon M.E. In practice it is not necessary to construct this triangle, but by means of trigonometry the distance can be calculated at once. We know now that the mean distance of the moon is equal to 60:27 times the radius of the earth ; so we see that Tycho Brahé's determination was not far out. - Tycho Brahé undertook to measure the exact diameter of the moon as it appears to us, and he found that when the moon was rediction of eclipses, Parallax. at its mean distance its diameter APP”, ”; f h meter and real was equal to 31'. It was then size of moon, easy to find out its exact size, for * trigonometry teaches us that a round object 110 • . TEIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. wº- seen from a distance sixty times its own 'dia- meter will appear to have a diameter of 57;'. The moon is distant from the earth by sixty times the earth’s radius ; and therefore, if the moon were as large in diameter as the earth's radius it would appear to be 57; in diameter. It is, however, only 31' in diameter, so that it must be correspondingly smaller than the radius of the earth. As 31 is nearly five-ninths of 57%, so the diameter of the moon is only five-ninths of the radius of the earth. The diameter of the moon is therefore only a little more than one-quarter of the diameter of the earth, so that by geometry its surface is only about one-thirteenth, and its volume one-fiftieth. The moon is therefore much smaller than the earth. By the beginning of the seventeenth century, periods to be as under:— farther than the earth from the Sun—appeared like bright stars, and their motion in the heavens was studied with ease by noticing how they changed their place among the stars. It was soon found that each of these planets moved in a fixed path in the heavens in the Same way as the sun, and inclined at a very Small angle to the path of the sun. This path or orbit crossed the ecliptic at a fixed position, and hot, as in the case of the moon, a position which slowly moved. It was easy for them to determine the time which it took these planets to move once round the Sun, or make a complete circuit of the heavens. They found their Mars, 1 year 321 days 23 hours 30 minutes. Jupiter, 11 years 317 days 14 hours 2 minutes. Saturn, 29 years 174 days 5 hours 16 minutes. FIG. 9. it will thus be seen that astronomers had learned a good deal about the motion and size of our satellite. Astronomers had known for a very long period that the moon was liable to be eclipsed or become so faint that it nearly or quite disappears. The moon may be shining brightly in the heavens, when it will be noticed that a small portion of its surface looks orange and dusky, as if it were covered with a thin cloud. Gradually this cloudy portion or spot seems to encroach on the disc, as if there were slowly moving across it a round, dusky disc, darkest-near the centre, and several times the diameter of the moon. Soon the whole disc of the moon is covered with this dusky shade, so that it 'becomes so dull that it is often very diffi- cult to detect it, and when seen it looks like a dull greenish orange disc. Suddenly a brighter gleam is seen on the side where the dusky veil was first seen, and soon this portion of the moon bursts forth with its usual.lustre and the dusky shade moves gradually off the moon until it quite disappears, and our satellite shines forth with its usual brilliance. This phenomenon is called a total eclipse of the moon. Sometimes the whole moon does not disappear, and a partial eclipse of the moon OCCULTS. It was soon discovered that these éclipses only occurred near full moon, when the earth was between the sun and moon, So that the moon must be near the shadow cast by the earth. This connection at once served to explain the phenomenon : the moon was eclipsed by passing through the shadow of the earth. It remains to be considered what was known of the planets by astronomers at the end of the sixteenth century. The three Su- The planets, perior planets, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn—called superior because they were Lunar eclipses, EX. C §C iº C º : Execk Yººtºººº. III. THE manner of holding the pen next demands Our attention. Fingers differ, and so do methods of holding the pen. On a preceding page (p. 60) we showed a way adopted by many writers. We here add another and in our opinion the preferable manner. The paper should be placed immediately in front of the right arm, parallel with the edge of the desk, and in such position that the commencement of the lines is opposite the right eye, and steadied by the fingers of the left hand. The pen should be held in such manner that the tip of the nib is about three- quarters of an inclufrom the ond of the middle. finger—a little more or a little less according to the shape of the writer's fingers and hand— the penholder making meanwhile an angle of about forty-five degrees with the surface of the paper, and leaving the forcfinger a little in front of the knuckle, as shown in our illus- tration. This matter is of importance, for if the pen be allowed to fall behind the knuckle, and the angle which the holder should make be in consequence reduced, a loss of power and freedom in the manipulation of the pen will instantly ensue. The pen must be lightly beld between the thumb and first and second ſingers, as shown, with both sides of the nib bearing equally upon the paper. It must pass close to the nail of the middle finger, but not rest on the nail, and be held by the central fleshy part of the forefinger and thumb. Care must be taken that the upper part of the pen, or holder, does not swerve either to the right or the left of the nib, but points to the right ear, Mianner of hold- ing the pen, PEWMAWSEIIP. 111 in order to secure which,the forefinger knuckle must be directed upwards towards the ceiling. The thumb should be bent outward, as shown in the illustration, until the end of the fleshy part closes upon the pen opposite the lower joint of the forefinger. The third and fourth fingers must be curved inward, so that they come rather less than midway between the tips of the other fingers and the palm of the hand. The extremity of the little finger only must Test on the paper sufficiently to guide the hand along : in fact, the more lightly the hand rests upon it the greater freedom will be acquired. The third finger, which is simply passive, must be incurved to some degree in such manner that it crosses the little finger as indicated in the sketch of a hand. It is necessary to bear in mind that the whole hand should be turned well over to the left, as it rests upon the fulcrum of the fourth finger in such a position that the nail of the second finger should be visible. This will bring the knuckles of the thumb and little finger respectively to about the same distance from the paper, perhaps about an inch and a half, and ensure a position most condu- cive alike to ease, expedition, and elegance. , The move - ments of the hands in execut- ing writing may be considered as threefold. There are : First, the . movement of the thumb and fingers singly ; secondly, that ** -- of the fingers &lā *N. and hand com- gº y Zºº bined ; and, in 22% §§§ the third place, Kº- the last specified K% motion, with a ‘' simultaneous movement of * the arm superadded. The first two are the only necessary motions in the practice of initiatory exercises and formal writing. The • last is brought in for the free Mºvement of cursive style of commercial and ** ordinary requirements. Not that the movement of the arm in any respect antagonizes that of the fingers. Far from it. The more rapid the writing the greater the necessity that the whole formation of the letters should be achieved by the two end- joints of the first and middle fingers and the top joint of the thumb, and by these joints alone—never by the action of the arm or fore- arm. It is evident that the small joints can move with much more ease and rapidity than the larger ones of the wrist or elbow, and very quick writing is only possible on these con- ditions. As Foster says: “The free play of the fingers and thumb produces a slight motion of the hand, which moves in a Importange of horizontal direction from left to the smalljºints right across the paper.” There . have been teachers, however, who have not only inculcated the ridiculous notion that the FIG. 1.-HOLDING THE PRN. joints should be kept stiff, and the motions come from the wrist, but have pushed the idea of gaining freedom' to the extent of requiring that all movements should come from the elbow or even shoulder The result of requiring large joints, fitted only for slower movements, to take the place of alert and active members like the end-joints of our fingers, is an un- sightly angular Scrawl, such as is too often taught to adults in an infinitely Small number of lessons. And here, in this connection, may be the best place to say to, those who may propose to follow our course of lessons a few words as to the labour requisite to attain good hand- writing. There are few things in which the old Latin saw “Festina lente”—“make haste slowly”—has a more forcible application than in learning penmanship. It is not a mere question of imitating º certain forms presented on a learning. copy-slip. That can be done by piecemeal patching ; and indeed is often so done in copy-books of the present day. But this is painting ; not ºvriting. The man or boy who lifts his pen at every letter, or several à times in a word, is not a writer at all. The e scope, therefore, of the assiduous practice which , must be gone \ through is not § so much to §: enable us to # copy certain # forms, as to gain # that correct po- sition of hand, conjoined with requisite supple- ness and play of the end finger joints, which will enable us to copy any form or write any hand as writing—that is to say, fluently, rapidly, and without fatigue. The latter is a most im- portant consideration to those who have to follow penmanship as a livelihood. Writing pursued on proper principles is not an unhealthy or exhaustive occupation ; but there are ladies who cannot write a couple of long epistles without a nervous headache, and clerks who suffer martyrdom over the pages of ledger or day-book as the slow hours drag on, merely because they do the work in an improper way. It is a matter of considerable importance to ascertain with correctness what are the funda- mental elements which go to form any par- ticular style of handwriting. The old writing- masters laid great stress upon the proper comprehension of these elementary forms, or “breaks,” as they termed them. Much differ- ence of opinion exists, and has existed, between English and Continental authorities upon this matter. For example, in one celebrated method which somewhat resembles the plan adopted by Pestalozzi, the elementary forms or component parts of the letters are reduced to four, which {} -ºº: 3. II 2 THE UNI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. are :—1. The right line ; 2. The curved line ; * 3. The loop ; 4. The crotchet. It Analysis of does not, however, appear that * this method has sufficient advant- OIIIlS, º ages to cause it to supersede the ordinary classification which is shown in our illustration of Elementary Forms, and may be thus briefly d | D. FIG. 2. ELEMENTARY FORMS. A is a simple diagonal line, ending squarely at top and bottom, and preserving an in- variable breadth throughout. The best angle for this stroke, which of course determines also the inclination of all the other elementary forms, would appear to be about fifty-three . . degrees. Whatever angle is taught Rudimentary in youth, it would seem that when * the schoolboy makes the great change from “copper-plate” hand to whatever cursive mode his individuality, prescribes, the inclination or slant may vary considerably. Still it is advisable to fix upon a degree of slope which is not excessive, for several reasons. In the first place the highest degree of legibility is secured by a hand not too much sloped. This is evident from the fact that Roman printed letters are more easy to read than Italic. If the reader will consider the three dif- ferent angles employed at A, B, C, D in our illustration (fig. 3) representing degrees of incli- nation, he will see evidence that an excessively slanting hand is more difficult to read than one which differs less from the upright. It is also clear that the slanting hand should be written very wide if it is desired to be legible. This is shown by the fourth example, D, which is more easily read than the third, C, but is sprawling and occupies unnecessary room. The writer's hand has to cover Degrees of greater space to produce it, and ** the reader's eye is similarly tasked. This is shown more clearly at E, where an upright line and three at different degrees of inclina- tion are given. It is here plain that the lines or letters with great inclination become very long and less distinct, even where the distances between the several portions of each letter are kept equal, as at F. - The right line stroke, (A, fig. 2) is the founda- tion of h, k, p, and g. In the next form (B, fig. 2) we have a right line, square at the top, and of the same thickness throughout, until at the curve it gradually tapers off and terminates with an A momentoué a momen/ot/9 c 222 ozzzezz/ozzº FIG. 3.-DEGREES OF IN CLINATION. upward hair-stroke. This is the form ordinarily termed a “pot-hook,” and is the essential element of i, u, t, 7, the last portion of the a and the d, and with the addition of the curve or crotchet, the letters b and m'. C is precisely the reverse of B, commencing with the curved hair stroke, then forming the equal right line, and ter. minating Squarely at the bottom. This ele- ment is the first portion of m, ov, and , ; and the first and second parts of m. In D we get, in fact, a combination of B and C, it being a right line of uniform thickness, but tapering off at the upper and lower curve and ending, like B and C, in a hair-stroke. These forms should be practised with the greatest care by the student, who should always remember that the secret of success is to take pains at the beginning. - Curved elements, G/00 LOGY. 113 To enter at any length into the minute structure of the various descriptions of plutonic and volcanic rocks, and the microscopical dif- ferences between them, would divert us from our main purpose, and hinder the student by confusing him with a mass of detail belonging to a special branch of investigation. It is necessary, however, to mention a further and . important classification of these rocks, based upon their composition from a chemical point of view. All igneous rocks are siliceous– that is, they contain a larger or smaller pro- portion of silica; and are divided, accordingly, into ACID (those containing 60 per cent, and upwards of silica), - and BASIC (those con- taining less than 60 per cent. of silica).” PLUTONIC ROCKS, (Acid series.) Granite is perhaps the best known of the plutonic rocks. It is composed of felspar, mica, and quartz. The colour of the rock depends upon that of the felspar. It often con- tains other minerals as accessories. Syenitic granite or ºff; Hornblendic granite tº; contains a propor- º tion of hornblende. Schorlace0?ts gra- nite is a granite con- taining schorl (black tourmaline). Porphyritic granite is a granite rock with * ESTIMATE OF THE PROPORTIONS OF THE SEVERAL ELEMENTS IN THE CRUST OF THE GLOBE. - Parts in 1000 Oxygera g . g tº g *g 500 Silicon * * 250 Aluminium, magnesium, calcium, potas- sium, sodium, iron - º * e Carbon, sulphur, hydrogen, chlorime, mitrogen . * * * * - t 23 All the other fifty-one elements constitute exceed- ingly minute and quite inconsiderable proportions of the mass of the globe, as far as we are acquainted with it. Silica is a combination of oxygen and silicon (SiO2). In its pure state it forms rock crystal. It exists in considerable quantities in gramite, where it may be readily recognized as a hard glassy substance. It also unites with the other substances, such as lime, alumina, magnesia, soda, potassa, etc., of which minerals are composed. These substances in chemical phraseology are called “bases.” Rocks which com- tain 60 per cent. of silica, either free or combined, are, as stated above, known as “acid '’ rocks; those in which the proportion is less than 60 per cent, are described as “basic.” VOL. I. 227 COLUMNAR STRUCTURE IN VoI. CANIC Rocks. conspicuous crystals of felspar larger than the crystallized mass of which the bulk of the rock is made up. The “Shap * granite used for the posts in front of St. Paul's Cathedral is a por- phyritic granite. Syenite is a rock composed of Orthoclase felspar and hornblende. The name, however, is frequently applied to syenitic granite. & Quartz syenite is composed of hornblende. felspar and quartz. Jºelstone is a hard flinty-looking smooth rock, consisting of a fine admixture of Ortho- clase felspar and quartz, without any definite crystallization. When crystals of felspar occur in such a rock, it receives the name of felspar porphyry; and when in addition to Or instead of these there are quartz crystals the rock becomes quartz porphyry. This last group (felstone and felspar por- phyry and quartz porphyry), though classed by Some authorities amongst the plutonic rocks, appears to occupy an intermediate position between the plutonic and volcanic series. VOLCANIC ROCKS. (Acid series.) These rocks may be divided into three groups—Trachytes, Phonolites, and Olsidians. The Trachytes form an important group of volcanic rocks. They are so designated * because they are rough to the touch. Trachyte properly so-called, is a fine-grained rock, fre- quently of a pale grey colour, though by no means invariably SO, and is made up of a mass of minute entangled felspar crystals, often enclosing other and larger crystals. As a rule, they also contain hornblende, augite, or mica, and frequently a little iron. The felspar usually predominates. Hºhyolite is a term applied to a class of trachytic rocks which are richer in silica than the genuine tra- chytes. Free quartz is more commonly found in the rhyolites than in the trachytes. Hornblende and aug- ite are less common. Phonolife is the name given to a rock in Some respects intermediate between the “acid.” and the “basic * series. It is compact, com- monly splits up into thin slabs, gives out a ringing sound when struck with a hammer, and is generally of a greyish green or ashy grey colour. It obtains its name of clinkstone or phonolite from the sound given out by it when struck. Obsidian, or volcanic glass, is melted lava which has been quickly cooled. Pitchstone is a less glassy form, and Pumice frothy lava. PLUTONIC ROCKS. Gabbro is a name used to designate a some- what variable group of rocks. True gabbro is composed of diallage and Labrador felspar. J//perst/ enite contains hypersthene in place of the dialla . e. Diorite is a rock formed of felspar and horn- (Basic series.) * From Tpaxus, rough, 114 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. blende, and differs from syenite in the particular kind of felspar it contains. The felspar of syenite is orthoclase, that of diorite is plagio- clase. Porphyritic doleyites (see next paragraph). VoICANIC ROCKS. (Basic Series.) These rocks may be briefly described under two heads,--Basalts and Dolerites ; and one of these, again, might very conveniently be aban- doned, since a basalt is a fine-grained dolerite, and a dolerite a coarse-grained basalt. A typi- cal basalt or dolerite is composed of plagioclase felspar, augite, olivine, a little iron, and frequently a small pro- portion of apatite (phosphate of lime). In a basalt these con- stituents are not visibleseparately to the naked eye; in a dolerite, though still small, they can usually be distinguished without a lens. Dolerites with larger embedded felspar crystals are porphyritic dolerites, and are usually regarded as plutonic. The line between plutonic and volcanic rocks in this group is not always easy to be drawn. In some of these rocks the fel- spar is replaced by leucite, and we then have “leucite rock” ; in others its place is taken by nepheline, and it is then “nepheline basalt.” Melaphyre.—Under this term it was at one time the custom to include all basaltic rocks of palaeozoic and mesozoic age. JDiabase is a name given to basalts and dolerites which contain chlorite. As this last- named mineral is now recognized as a result of partial decomposition, the distinctive name of diabase is generally abandoned. SPATAN GljS CORAN GUIN U.M. In the Old Red Sandstone of the Mendips this cementing material is principally iron rust, and it is the same in many other cases; but we have also calcareous sandstones, in which the grains are united by carbonate of lime, and sometimes the cementing material is more or less siliceous and felspathic. The sand thus bound together may be much waterworn and rounded, or the fragments may be angular and show but few signs of having been rolled. The grains may also differ greatly in size. Many sandstones are made up of particles that can- not well be seen without the aid of a magni- Wºore fying glass; on the other hand, they are sometimes as large as a pea. There is a further difference of Some importance—the propor- tion of other material mixed with siliceous grains of which the sandstone is mainly com- posed. Most sandstones contain, for instance, a few spangles of mica ; but in some of them the flakes are so abundant that they form athin layers. This feature is common in the flagstones brought from Yorkshire to pave the streets of London. Grains of felspar also occur in some sandstones, and are occasionally very abundant, giving rise to the designation “felspathic sand- stones.” The colour of these rocks varies greatly. It is sometimes clear and glassy, Owing to the abundance of 'transparent pure quartz grains, and the nature and proportion of the cementing material. It may be, however, of a dull white, from the presence of felspar, or of various shades of red, brown, yellow, and green, due to iron. Patches of colour are sometimes caused by the presence of copper and other minerals. * :Fº: &: - - š fºss: F--> º 5 E*- E::= *ś 5: #=:: ¥5. E. É :=== #º : ÉÉÉ &=E=::::::=#####E. .##############E ##### §######## ######## ########### #############E #######################E ÉÉÉ###### - ºf 73 - EEEE EEE :=EEE É E º XEEºs E- º - ££eśī EEEEE EEEEg=EEE's =########## º-ºwy wºmº {-2 Fºss:#; - ========<======= t I) IPTERUS—D OUBLE-WING ED. The glassy form of the basic rocks, corre- sponding to the pitchstones and obsidians of the acid series, is known as tachylite. SEDIMENTARY ROCKS. Sedimentary rocks—that is, rocks which have been formed from sediment laid down undcr water—may be divided into three groups. 1. Sandstones Conglomerates, and Breccias. Sandstones.—This group of rocks agree in the mode of their formation, and differ mainly in the size and nature of the material of which they are composed. A sandstone is made up of grains of Sand bound together by something which acts as a cement. Sand:tone, Conglomerates, or Pudding Stone.—Just as grains of sand cemented together form sand- Stone, so pebbles similarly bound together by Sand, iron, clay, etc., etc., form conſ/lomerates. The pebbles may be of any material, and the cementing matter of any kind. As a matter of fact, they do vary greatly. The “Hertfordshire pudding-stone” is made up exclusively of flint pebbles em- bedded in Sand so firmly cemented together that the pebbles themselves break when the Stone is fractured. The same conglomerate, when found on the south side of the London Basin, frequently shows a more calcareous matrix, and the pebbles being less firmly fixed, Conglomerates, FREWCH PROWUNCIATION. 115 are more easily broken out. In the conglome- rates of the Trias, the pebbles have been formed from Some of the old crystalline rocks. They lie in places in unconsolidated sand, and in others pass into a hard rock. The conglomerate is well shown at Alderley Edge, in Cheshire. An Older conglomerate still is found in North Wales, at the base of the Cambrian rocks, made up of waterworn pebbles formed from still older rocks, and greatly changed in character before they were worn into pebbles. Preccias.-Breccias differ from conglome- rates in being formed, not of waterworn pebbles, but of angular frag- ments of rock. The so-called “dolomite conglomerates " of the Mendip Hills, already referred to, afford a very good illustration. Some of the blocks included in them are large masses measuring several feet in thickness; the majority are, of course, very much smaller, the average size being perhaps a couple of inches in longest diameter, and a considerable proportion smaller still. Breccias, ºr- N E. ſº - #: RULES OF PRONUNCIATION. The Simple Tonels (continued). § 20 a. Eslender, being printed without any accent, can only be recognized from its position. It forms the sole vowel and final letter of the following monosyllables: ce, de, je, le, me, me, que, se, te. . In these words, the e slender may undergo two changes—(1) it may become en- tirely mute, being replaced by an apostrophe (see § 8, Rem. II.), or elided (§ 19 b) in pronun- ciation, though retained in writing ; (2) it may be changed into e open (8) through the s which is added to some of these words by inflexion or contraction : ces, des, les, ºnes, ses, tes, which are pronounced te, dē, etc (see Ś 23 a). b. An unaccented e has the slender Sound when it comes in the body of a word, after öl.—Faiblement, weakly (pron. fe-ble-man —see S 46 for man); by-Bretelle, brace (bre-tell); cl.—Ráclement, scraping ()'ſt-cle-man); or.—Cretonne, flax and hemp fabric (cro- £07)); dy.—Tendrement, tenderly (tam-dre-man); f.-Soufflete?', to slap the face (soo-ſle-tay); fy.—Fredaine, prank (fre-dén); - g!.—Aveuglement,” blindness (à-ve-gle-man); gr.—Grenade, Granada (Gre-nād'); pl.—Simplement, simply (sim-ple-man); i pr.—Premier, first (pre-miaſ): i. ty.—Tredame, Ś by’r Lady (fre-damm); v)'.—Pauvreté, poverty (pó-vre-tay). . . .” Not to be mistaken for aveuglément, meaning blindly. † For sim see $47. it Give to i the sound it has in amiable. § Origin, Notre-Dame. “Tredame 1 Monsiewr, est-ce qug Madame Jourdain est décrepite 7” (MoIIBRE.) § 21 a. E close is generally marked by the acute accent: támérité, Tashness (pron. tay-may- 7:ce-tay). An e also has a close sound when it precedes an inarticulate consonant other than s and t ; (et, conjunction and, is pronounced 6). J3erger, shepherd (pron. berr-zhé); Clef, key (clé); Venez, come (vné); Jºamilier, familiar (fü-mee-lié); Pied, foot (pié); JFier, to trust (fié). JRemarks. –1. Clef is written by many as pronounced (viz., clé), a sound which it retains even before a vowel : la clef est perdue (the key is lost) would not be read la clé fě, but la clé e. 2. In cep de vigne (vine) pronounce cè (see § 23 a); p, however, is carried to the next vowel in the singular : un cep et son échalas (a vine and its prop), read un cé pe someshālā , but in the plural, des ceps et leum's eſchalas, Tead des cé zé, etc. 3. Chef-d'oeuvre (masterpiece) forms another exception ; pronounce something between ché and chè-d'oeuvr' (see § 22 a). Chef in this word retains, therefore, as much as pos- sible of its original sound, which is sheff (with the e open). b. E is also close in some words which have come unaltered from Latin and Italian to French. The Latum words are mostly referring to the Roman Catholic worship, and the Italian words to the art of music. Such are— Credo (I believe), a creed (prom. cré-dó); Criterium, criterion (kree-té-riom'), Acad.; (kree-tê-riom"), Littré. Confiteor (I confess), a confession of sins (con-fee-té-07). De profundis (out of the depths), a peniten- tial psalm (dé pro-fon-decss); Te Deum (Thee, God), a thanksgiving (té- dè0m), Acad.;* (té-d6-0m), Littré. JRequiem (repose), a prayer for the dead (ré- kui-èm); Wade-mecum (walk with me), a companion (vä-dé-mékom); Andante, a moderately slow movement (an- dant' and an-dan-té): Cantabile, an elegant, Smooth style (pron. kan-tū-bee-lé). JForte, in a loud manner (pron. für-té). Remark.--179&lus, 21c3 J/aria, on iséréré, allégro, túnor, are:Written with the acute accent, and present therefore no difficulty. § 22. E semi-close. a. It is only for the sake of completeness that we shall speak of this sound, and mention further that some ingenious grammarians have discovered another shade which, in English, might be called semi-open. As for the number of vibrations between semi- close and semi-open, no one has, as yet, risked an opinion, and we should advise the student not to attempt the solution of the problem. The Académie makes mo mention of these two shades; M. Littré, while admitting one of them, gives no rule for detecting it, and it is indicated in no dictionary that has come under our notice. The eminent publisher and printer, P. Didot, suggested for the e semi-close a per- * Where two authorities are given, it is safer to follow the Académie. - 116 THE UNIVERSAI, INSTIPUCTOR. pendicular accent, which, unfortunately, has not been adopted. The number of words which possess this peculiar sound must be looked upon as diminished in practice, since the Académie, in the new edition of their diction- ary, spell now all words in ége—a termination to which the semi-close e sound used to be assigned—with the grave accent : j'assiège, co/lege, sacrilège, piège, etc. b. The e Semi-close has a medium sound be- tween 6 and é, í in the English word fit seems to us the nearest approach to it. “The sound is rendered variously in French : by an un- accented e, as in secte; by an acute accent, as in the first e in été and in sévère , by é, as in Noël ; by egs, et, ect, as in legs, sujet, respect (also by ai, as in the first syllable of aimai ; aid as in laid : ait as in trait).”—Littré. We quote P. Larousse verbatim (vol. vii., p. 2, col. 2) : “In all words derived from other words whose penultimate is an e open followed by a mute syllable, the e becomes semi-close every time it is followed by the sounds a, au, eu, ou, on, an, or by the termination ai of imperfects and conditionals. Examples: cor- Tecteur, correction, directeur, direction, blas- phémateur, blasphématoire, célébrant, collection, catéchuménat, &levation, fièvreua, ténèbrewar, tiédeur, moſennant, eacellent, nous earcellons, nous earcellámes, vows eacellătes, professeur, profession, mous professons, mous possédoms, nous gossédions, mous protestons, protestant, protest- antisme, protestation, révélation, systèmatique, étant, mettamt, Séquestration, j'étais, tu átais, *l était, ils 6taient, je mettais, tu metfais, il "mettait, je mett rais, etc. In all words which do not present such a derivation, the e is always close : préparation, separément, complément, gar consequent.” c. The e is likewise semi-close when it comes before the terminations sion, tion, sewn's succes- Sion, digestion, concession, accesseur, confesseum', etc.; and every time it is followed by an articu- lated a préférey, vows préférez, je verrai, vows ºverrez, acquérin', terrible, vertu, ergo, etc., there being no exception but for dé placed at the beginning of words: déracine", dérouter, etc. It is needless to add that this point is debatable; we intend, however, to refer the riper student to it now and then. § 23. & open and é open and long. For all plactical purposes, there is no difference in quality between e, é, and e open from position ; there is, although not in all cases, a difference in quantity : é being generally the longest, é open from position the shortest, and & holding a middle place. a. An 6 open is recognized— (1) By the accents grave and circumflex: modèle, model ; pron. mo-dèl. père, father ; pron. pèr’. évêque, bishop : pron. Čvék. homméte, homest; pron. Önét'. (2) By a final articulated consonant put after &D (3 : gree, Greek ; pron, grèk. breſ, short ; prom. bréf. Joseph, Joseph ; pron. Zhozèſ. cié!, sky ; pron. sièl. Michel, Michael; pron. Meeshël. hymen, marriage ; pron, ceměn. julep, julep ; pron. Zhulêp. fier, proud ; prom. fièr. j'acquiers, I acquire ; pron. ;hākièr. inder, forefinger ; pron. in-déks. (3) By a double consonant following 6 : chapelle, chapel ; pron. Shapell. échelle, ladder; pron. Éshèll. que je tienne, that I may hold : pron, tiºnſ, ennemi, foe pron. &mmee. terre, glass; pron. vèr. libeller, to libel; pron. lee-bêl-Zé. richesse, wealth ; pron. reeshëss. sagesse, wisdom ; prom. Sâzhèss. brouette, wheelbarrow ; pron. brooëtt. lettre, letter; pron, lètr'. elle, she ; pron. ell. concetti, brilliant but inaccurate thoughts , prom. contshët-ti. (4) By two consonants articulated separately and following e, whether these consonants stand before an e mute or any other vowel : il ferme, he shuts; pron. fen’m : fermé, shut ; pron. fermé. certes, of course ; pron. Sèrt: liberté, free- dom ; pron... leeberté. terme, term ; pron. term ; en’mite, hermit ; pron. &n"meet. geste, gesture ; pron. zhèst : gesticuler, to gesticulate ; prom. zhèsteeculé. espère, hope thou ; pron, espèr: respiré, breathed ; pron. respeeré. presque, almost ; pron. prèsk : esquif, skiff ; pron, eskeef. escorte, escort ; pron. escort : convalescent, ditto ; prom. convälèssam. b. Remarks.--(1) The e is always open in monosyllables, when it is followed by s, as ces, d6s, es, les, mes, tes; pron. Sè, dē, lè, &, mē, té. (2) The final t, although mute, renders the pre- ceding e open : archet, arghets (bow, -s) pron. ār-shë ballet, ballets (dance, -s), pron. bālè; il met, je mets (he puts, I put), prom. mé, etc. The conjunction et (and) is pronounced 6, doubtless to distinguish it from the verb est (is) which sounds é. (3) When e is followed by two mute consonants it is open ; examples above, est, mets, etc.; aspect, respect, pron. aspé, respè. Some say aspék, respèk, others aspékt, respèkt, but the e is always open. N.B.-The pronun- ciation aspé, respè is recommended. EXERCISE. Read several times aloud the following phrases (culled mostly from the Syllabaire- Régimbeau, pp. 68-9), in which— The mute e's and other mute letters are italicized ; The slender e's left without any particular mark ; The close e's, from position, marked & ; The open e's, from position, marked 6 ; The accented e's (é, é, é) speak for them- selves ; The semi-close 6's are not taken into con- sideration. Detéls procédés le pérdront—Gabriël chèrche Michèl (shersh Meeshell)—le matérièl du che- min de fér—une gērbe de blé—il éxérce son commérce à la kërméSS6—élle a sérvi un mêr- CHEMISTRY. , 7 han au colonèl— Kléb3r a traversé la múr—Sans exemple (em nasal, see § 46) le précèpte Sera pèrdu—quëlle belle pérle Adriënne a fermé la pérsienne–l'architecte (larsheetekt) a in- specte la néf de la chapelle—sés gestes Sont présque grotesques—Ernest (ärmäst) remèttra cétte lettre à son adresse—il faudra que je prènne un lapin (in nasal, see $43 b) de garénne —prenèz ce gilét ét ce mantelêt, Čt donnéz-lès au pauvre—c'èst le préfèt ét son Valèt—laisséz passér le cochèr—prièz le fêrmiér de cultivér mon vérgér—aimes-tu lés poires cuites ? La clèf est à (étá) tes piéds—tu regardes cés grandes fenêtres—quand (ka/v) tu Salues, Öte ton chapeau—l'armée ést décimée—ce poète a décritla fête de Noël-nous (noo) vimes le poème mércredi dernièr. NOTE.-For e in combination with other vowels, consult, $ 2 ; for e in combination with the semi-vowels m and n, see $42. <º S.s.º.ºx. sº - º º º - º: ºº::$º -> ºlei º º w §§2 º . º:/º iºsºsº: ºš s ºp - sº = nº & ºSººs CºCººl: gº & º º 5 gº; §tº & gº 8 - º º gºs – {{s- º NS º * sº gº- º Pºvº Šsº NS: C. Gºzºa Wº º º § Rºzº º Sºº Lº º º tº sº '*** sº º º - º º & * º * > . º III. HEAT AND COMBUSTION. THE paramount importance of the functions exercised by heat as the principal mechanical agent in effecting the various changes to which the world of matter is constantly subject—un- locking as it does the bond that unites molecule Action of heat to molecule, converting the solid into the liquid and the liquid into the gas, and likewise dissociating atom from atom in the chemical compound—demands that we should devote a brief portion of our space to a consideration of its nature and attributes. Heat, like light and electricity, is a manifes- tation of force or energy which can only be exhibited through the medium of some material agent. At once dismissing the theory which at one time affected to regard heat as a subtle fluid pervading the physical universe, and re- cognizing the fact that heat can have no exist- ence apart from matter, we may simplify our definition by saying that heat is matter in motion. The bullet from the gun, and the hammer swung by a strong arm, derive their momentum from the expenditure of a certain amount of force or ener y. Here we have the motion of The nature of heat, the mass. Let us suppose this motion to be e suddenly arrested in the case of 9 ºn the bullet by coming into contact of energy, with a stone wall, and in that of the ham...]er by striking on the anvil, and the result will be to convert one kind of energy into another kind of energy: the motion of the mass becomes the motion of the mole- cules, and heat is the result. The momentum of a moving body, suddenly brought to a stand- still, is therefore not lost or destroyed, but is converted into motion of a different kind, and the amount of heat thus generated is directly Heat arrested motion, proportionate to the velocity of the moving body; we may therefore go a step further in our definition of heat, and call it arrested motion. The halfpenny that may be ham- mered on the anvil, and the button that may be rubbed on a rough surface until they are too hot to be handled, the match that is ignited by friction, and the spark that is struck from the pavement by the hoof of a horse, are all examples of heat due º, to arrested motion. Our readers motion, have all, doubtless, admired the graceful curve described by a meteor on the cloudless sky of a summer night, without per- haps being aware that they were witnessing another example of heat thus generated. These so-called shooting stars are in reality small bodies travelling through space at a planetary rate of speed. Upon entering our atmosphere their tremendous velocity—in comparison with which a cannon-ball, at its maximum of speed, can scarcely be said to crawl—is instantly checked by * collision with this denser mé. Shootinë stars' dium, and sufficient heat is instantaneously generated, by the opposition they meet with, to render these bodies white-hot Or incan- descent, and a few seconds is, in most cases, sufficient to burn them entirely away and convert them into invisible gas. All bodies, with some few exceptions which it is unnecessary to particularize, expand under the influence of heat. This is true of liquids in a greater degree than solids, and of gases in a still higher degree. The tendency of liquids to expand is turned to account in the construc- tion of the well-known and useful little philo- sophical instrument termed a thermometer, or heat-measurer : th this consists of a bulb at the end *. of a capillary (hair-like) tube of glass. The whole being filled with boiling mercury, the end of the tube is hermetically closed ; as the mercury cools it contracts, leaving a vacuum in the tube above it, and the subsequent rise and fall of the slender column in the tube serves to indicate the changes of temperature. On the Fahrenheit scale—that generally used in this country—0 is 32° below freezing point, and the temperature of boiling water is 212°. On the centigrade scale ſº 0 is freezing point, and 100° Thermºmetric boiling water. Consequently, as * will be seen, 180° Fahrenheit correspond to 100° centigrade, or the degree Fahrenheit is ; of the degree centigrade. See fig, on p. 118. All gases, with one or two exceptions, expand in the ratio of #45 of their volume for every degree centigrade. This being the rate of expansion of air, it follows that if we raise the temperature of a given quantity of air one degree, it will have increased in the ratio of #s of its original bulk, and so on for every degree of temperature. Conse- quently, if we continue to increase the temperature up to 273°C., we shall have doubled its volume. A cubic yard of air at 0, if the temperature be raised to 273°C., will fill two cubic yards. This fact suggests a somewhat singular consideration. Let us sup- Expansion by heat, The Expansion of gases, 118 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. pose that we possessed the power of lowering the temperature in the same ratio : then, inas- much as our given volume of air at 0 occupies twice the space it did at +273° C., it follows that it ought to occupy no space at all at −278° C. Of course we know that this is im- possible, as matter is indestructible : but it is assumed that air and any other gas would have changed its condition before this temperature was reached. We need hardly in- form our readers that such a degree of cold is nowhere met with in the world we inhabit, nor can it be pro- duced by any means the chemist has at his disposal. It is termed the “absolute zero” of tem- perature. Imagination might strive in vain to picture the scene of utter desolation which our fair world would present if the tem- perature fell to that of the absolute zero. All organic life, animal as well as vegetable, would perish ; not only would our rivers, and the mighty ocean itself, be changed to immovable rock, but the very atmosphere would be converted into adamant; all na- ture would sleep, bound in the icy chains of a death-like immobility. For all the varied and beauteous forms of organic life, for every cloud that casts its grateful shade on the parched earth, for the fertilizing shower and the nightly dews, We may thank the agency of the “great worker of the universe,”—heat l A heated body may be regarded as one whose ultimate particles are in a state of agitation or vibration ; we may assume that they are alter- mately attracted and re- pelled, and that this action becomes more violent as the temperature rises, until the body ultimately changes its con- dition and from a solid passes into the state of a fluid. This change, it is true, takes place at temperatures differing immensely for different bodies; yet it will be understood, from what we have said, that a greater degree of heat is necessary to keep the body in the form of a liquid than in that of a solid, and a still greater to preserve it in the form of a gas. ture, as registered by a thermómeter, is no greater than that of a Solid, must, in reality, contain more heat, or it could not exist as a liquid ; and a gas must contain more heat than a liquid of the same temperature as Absolute zero, Fusion and vaporization, itself, or it could not exist as a gas. Heat which is thus locked up in 'bodies, and has ceased to manifest itself as sensible heat. Tatentheat, is termed « latent.” If A liquid whose tempera- N ºf H-210 |E- S5 - H ā-200 H|E S0—#|É. H|E-190" 85-Hi. I +180 80–H|H. H|H–170 75–H H. =|H–160 70-f H- H|ET 65–5– H–150 eo-HH-140 j|E |H' 55-HTE-150 H|E **-ij-, ºr H TE ſy 45–F|É kill (9) - 5–110– = H|E| 2 H. 40—#|ET iſ 2. H|E-1000Z ill j = º: O 55–H|EF. rſ EEH-90 LL 30–H F- El El 80 25–P|E_ HH-70 20–H E is HF-80 io ||H-50 Eli- O—F H-f |-|H-30 P H|E_ 5–F]H |H-20 to—HE- H|E-10 TIII: RMOMETRIC SCAT, p. 8. it will of course be liquefied, but the water into which the ice is converted will still have the temperature of 0°, or be as cold as the ice itself, until the latter is en- tirely melted. The whole of the heat that has been taken up by the ice, and which has effected its change of condition, has become latent, and the water is no warmer than the ice. Admitting heat to be force or energy, we must regard this force as here employed in doing work, in keeping asunder the particles that would otherwise Heat engaged ...s. into a jiā, in doing wºrk. and in consequence of its being thus employed, unable to manifest itself as sensible heat. Perhaps engaged heat would be a better term than latent or hidden. Let us now Sup- pose that, instead of bringing the ice to the firo, we contrive to liquefy it by some other means—without any application of heat—and what will be the result, 7 Heat, we know, must be obtained from some source, or the body would refuse to change its condition. Whence is it obtained in this case ? From, the body itself that undergoes this change, and whose temperature will thus be lowered, in many cases, to a very surprising º extent. Most of Qur . readers are, no doubt, familiar with the fact that the liquid which results from mixing salt with pounded ice or snow is many degrees colder than ice itself. Availing him- self of this natural law, the chemist, by dissolving certain solids in liquids, at very low temperatures, has succeeded in producing a liquid so intensely cold that the vessel con- taining it cannot be handled with impunity, and a single drop falling on any exposed part of the body burns into the flesh like boiling oil. A far lower temperature has thus been produced in the laboratory of the chemist than ever prevails na- turally, even in the arctic regions. I'very apparatus for the s º º 'º gº ... of ice by Artificialice. artificial means is based upon this natural law, which may be summed up in the following words:–When- ever a solid is converted into a liquid, or a liquid is converted into a gas, without any application of heat from an extraneous source, a fall of tem- perature or the production of cold is the result. On the other hand, the converse of this law naturally holds good . Low temperature, likewise ; and whenever a gas reverts to the condition of a liquid, or the latter to that of a solid, the latent OF a piece of ice is brought near any source of heat, I engaged heat is liberated. GEIºlſ A. W. º gº _ººlſ ººlºº %, º sº * , ºš £5׺ * . * : as º Sºśsº: º §: { 5. tº º º-s, Aº sº : ÉE. § ºr sº º º: *~ E = E-3. §º : P . :* ... 3. * V. THE VERB ©abem, to have (continued). SECOND CONDITIONAL, OR CONDITIONAL PAST. $d) mirbe geşābt jabem, I should have had ich wuejº'-dege-hapt' ha'-ben 3Du bittbeſt geſabt babent, thou wouldst doo vuerr'-dest ge-hapt ha'-ben [have had (ºr nyirbe geşābt 9abem, he would have airr vºte,”-dege-hapt’ ha'-bén [had Ščir myūrben gebačf 5aben, we would have vee,” vuerº'-den ge-hapt ha'-ben. [had $5r noitrbet ge)abt jaben, ye would have eerr vue,”-det ge-hapt' haſ-ben. [had ©te mittbert ge)abt jaben, they would zee vºtero'-den ge-hapt’ ha'-ben [have had This tense is formed from the first condi- tional by the insertion of the past participle geşabt, as the second future is formed from the first. IMPERATIVE. §abe (but), have (thou) ha, -be doo $500e Cer), let him have ha’-be ai)',' $oqêen moir, let us have Ja'-hem rea)'); Şabt (ijr), have (ye) hapt cer). Saben ſte, let them have ha'-ben zee - The pronouns thou and ye (bu and tºr) are generally omitted in German, as in English, with the Imperative: “Have patience,” Sodbe (or Ögöt) @jebuſo (ſe-dult'). Except in the second person the form “let us,” “let them ’’ (ſaff or ſafft umā, faſt ſte) is generally used in German : “Let us have the book,” Qafi (sing.) or ſafft (plur.) und bus Şutſ) jabcm. SUBJ UNCTIVE MIOOD. Sö jače, I (may) have, or (that) I have ich haſ be - Øut jabeſt, thou (maySt) have, or (that) thou doo ha'best .*. [have (£r jabe, he (may) have, or (that) he have aim” haſ be §§tt jabelt, we (may) have, or (that) we have ween” haſ ben $!}r babct, ye (may) have, or (that) ye have ee?'," ha'-bet ©te jábert, they (may) have, or (that) they zee haſ-ben. [have The difference in form from the indicative mood is here in the second and third persons singular and second person plural : babeſt, babe, and Ödöet, instead of jaſt, jat, and babt. 1197 IMPERFECT. 3d, 5étte, I might have, or that I had 'ich het'-te Øu Şätteſt, thou mightest have, or that thou doo het-test [hadst (śr batte, he might have, or that he had aiz’7” het'-te Jötr Śātten, we might have, or that we had veer” het'-tem, - §§r bâttet, ye might have, or that ye had ce,” Jºat'-tet - ©ie şātten, they might have, or that they had zée hat-ten The only difference in form from the indica- tive imperfect is in the use of the limſaut over the q : Şātte instead of Şaffe, etc. PERFECT. 3d, 5d be geſaút, I may have had, or that I ich haſ-be ge-hapt [have had Qu babeſt ge)abt, thou mayest have had doo haſ-best je-hapt (ºr jabe geºdót, he may have had air” haſ-be ge-hapt. . Şir jaben ge)abt, we may have had veer” haſ-ben ge-hapt’ Şūr jabet ge)abt, ye may have had eer” ha'-bet ge-hapt. ©te jūbeit gchaët, they may have had zee haſ-ben ge-hapt This tense is merely a repetition of the pre- sent subjunctive, with the addition of the past participle gchaët. PLUPERFECT. Stſ. Witte geſaút, I might have had, or (that) I ich het'-te ge-hapt' [had had Qu jitteſt geblót, thou mightest have had doo he?'-test ge-hapt’ (ºr bitte ge!).ibi, we might have had airy het'-te ge-hapt' Sir jitten geſatt, we might have had teer, het'-ten ge-hapt’ $5r jäftet gebubt, ye might have had eer, het'-tet ge-hapt' ©ie bitten geljäbt, they might have had zee het'-ten go-hapt’ 4. PRESENT PAIRTICIPLE, Şūčcub, having. ha"-bent PAST PARTICIPLE. Gjeſtät, had. ge-hapt' Note:-Haben, sºyn, and accrden are called auxiliaries of tense, to distinguish them from other verbs that are called auxiliaries of mood. The form of addressing persons in German varies from the Tênglish manner. As in France very intimate friends and near relations call each other tu (thou), so in German, parents and children, brothers and sisters, etc., call each other gott. In other cases they use the form of the third person, ©ie, always writing it with a capital initial. Thus, Have you a friend ? puben ſºic einen äreunb? Have they a friend ? palºcuſie (small letter) eiteit śrcumb 2 The old form $9t, second person plural, was formerly used for you, but is now only employed in speaking to those to whom in the singular 190 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. we should say 3)ut. Thus, we say to one child, 3)u jašt 3ett, thou hast time; to several, 35t ljabt 3eit, ye have time. STUDIES ON THE VERB ©aben, To HAVE. Reading and Thranslation. The following sentences are to be translated into English. To do this the student should first learn by heart the vocabulary at the end of the first paragraph, then read the sentences aloud to get the pronunciation, and then trans- late the sentences, writing them out in English, and finally comparing them with the English version given at the end of the lessons on baben. In the paragraphs to be translated from English into German, the same method may be adopted. I.—On the Present Tense. Question, ansner, and negation. Ští, babe einen $teumb. ($t 9at ein ºauá. ich ha'-be i'-men froind ayrr hat ine house §§ir baben Sörüber umb (35.jpeſtern. ©te vee,” haſ-ben brue'-der und shºves-term zee bat einen $80geſ. 33ir baben 32it pat hat "-nen fo'-gel veer” ha'-ben tsite hat ſte §8ſumert pat er ein Sºferb 2 Jºein zee bloo'-men hat ay?” ine pſaird mine 3ruber 9at metm ºſteſſer. Öat metm b7'00'-der hat mine mesſ-ser hat mine §reunb eine 3 offter 2 %aben (35te §eber froind i'-ne toch'-ter haſ-ben zee fay'-der umb gºinte? §abem ſte einem $8ſetſtift 2 wnd dinº-te haſ-ben Zee i'-nen Bly'-stift $oat er midſt (§eſp? §oaſt bu mein hat ayrr nicht gelt hast doo mine Şebermeſſer'? §d 9abe ein SDReſſer, eine fay'-dey-mes-se?' ich haſ-be ine messer i'-me (jabeſ umb einem ºffeſ. Subem (25te baá gah'-bel und i-men loef'-fel ha'-ben zee dass Øintenfaş 2 39x babt ein pauá umb einem din'-ten-fass ear” habt ine house und i-mem (jarten, 3d babe fein (Şeſp. §abem garr'-ten ich ha'-be kine gelt haſ-ben ©te metnett Stegenfötrim. Šd) jabe einen zee my’-men ray'-genshee?'rmº ich ha'-be iſ-nen pump. (ºr bat eine flat; e. paben Öie humd ayr, hat iſ-me kat'-ze ha'-ben zee midſt ein 90?eſſer 2 @ie bat midſt eine micht ine mes-se,' zee hat michè iſ-ne Žodyter. 3)er &mdöe 9at einem £eſter. toch'-ter dare knah'-be hat iſ-men lair'-em' §§ir jūbeit ein Sud). CŞte 9at einent weer) ha'-ben ine booch zee hat i-men Stegemſtºirm. §at er midt ein $qué? way'-gensheep','m hat ay,” night ine house 9tein, er bat einen (30tten. Öaſt bu nine ay,” hat iſ-nen garr'-ten hast doo midt einen $5ſetſfift 2 9tein, td) babe eine nicht iſ-nen bly'-stift mine ich ha'-be i'-me Şeber. (ºr Öat einen $3ruber unb : eine fay'-der a yrſ' hat "-nen broo-der und i'-ne ©tſyayeſter 301 jubt einert £effrer, @5te scſ, cest-er ean')' habt iſ-nen Zair-67' 266 §at eine Äreunbin, hat iſ-ne fro ind"-in WOCABULARY. Singular. Øer §reunb, the friend. dare froint bie şreum Dzim," the female Plural. bie Śreunbe dee Froin-de bie Śreunbimen dee froind'-im [friend. dee froind-in-en baff pauá, the house. bie pāuſer dass house dee hoy'-zer” ber 3ruber, the brother. bie Śrāber dare brood'-er dee brue-der” bie 3d)\veſter, the sister. bte (35dºmeſtern dee Schwest'-er dee Schºest-ern ber $ogeſ,” the bird. bie Sógeſ dare fo'-gel dee foeh'-gel bie 3ett,” the time. bie 3etten dee tsite dee tsite'-en bie Söſume, the flower. bte 98ſument dee bloo'me dee bloom/-em. baá $ferb, the horse. bie Sºferbe das pfayrt deepfair-de baá š)?effer, the knife. bie غ effer dass mes'-se?' dee mes-ser bie 3 pdjter, the daughter. bie Żódźter dee toeh'-ter bie şeber, the pen. dee fay'-der bie 3)inte,' the ink. dee dinſ-te - dee toech-te” bie şebern dee fay'-dern bie Øinten dee dintem, ber 98 ſetſtift,” the pencil. bie $ſetſtiffe dare bly'-stift dee bly'-stifte bqā Geſb, the money. dass gelt bie (jeſber dee geld-er baššebermeſſer, the penknire, bie Šebermeſſer dass fay'-dey-mes-ser deejay'-dey-mes-se, bie (30 beſ," the fork. dee ga/-bel ber 86ffet, the spoon. dare loef'sfel bag 3)tutenfaff,” the inkstand. dass dim-tem-fass ber ©artem, the garden. dare gar,”-tem ber 9tegemſtjirut,” the um- dare ray-gem-sheer"m [brella ber $5umb, the dog. dan'6 hºund (the u as in pull.) bie Statje, the cat. dee kat'-se ber &ndbe, the boy. dare knah'-be bie (jabeſm dee gah'-belm bie ºffeſ dee loef’-fel bie Øintenfüffer dee din'-ten-fes-sey bte (järten dee ſer,'ten bie Stegemſtjirrite dee way'-gen- shee?”m. bie Šumbe dee hunde bie Statjem dee kat'-sen, OBSETVATIONS, bie Sèmaben dee knah'-ben Frezzndin is also written with a double m. * Vogel is the English “fowl"—an instance of the softening of g into w. * From the German zeit comes the English “tide ’’: Shrovetide, H.Whitsuºtide, etc. * Dinte is also written with a t . Tinte. * Bleistift, from Blei, lead, and Stift, a stylus or pointed pencil. It is also called die Blei-feder (the lead pen). * From Gabel, a fork, comes the English “gable.” " From Dinte, ink, and Fasz, tub, literally, “ink- tub.” * From Regen, rain, and Schirm, shade, or shelter. FIISTORY OF MO DERN TIMES. ber £ebrer,' the teacher. dao'e lair'-er bač 95ud), the book. bie Söädjer dass booch dee buech'-er i From Lehre, teaching, whence the English word “lore.” The former observations as to the pronun- ciation of a (a in ha ha /), ii (like the French w), and d) (och /), must be remembered. bie Seffret dee lair'-er ENGLISH VERSION, For correcting the translation of the above. I have a friend. He has a house. We have brothers and sisters. She has a bird. We have time. Has she flowers? Has he a horse? My brother has my knife. Has my friend a daugh- ter? Have you pen and ink 7 Have they a º - § º: º %; sº §§ sºlº.º.º. sº ºś - º º & º Ni º º º - §§§ s' R. Nº § §: sº ºf . º.5: º º §: iſ §ſº º &º 3. . }|M ſi #|| 5\ºsºft §§ § &Y: - $ §) :* * * **** * * * *. * * §sº ###2=º: THE death of the Emperor Maximilian, at the beginning of 1519, brought the Elector Frederick the Wise, Luther's patron, into a prominent position. The pope, who Death of . secretly favoured the candidature *.** of Francis the First against the g powerful and politic Charles of Spain, wished to make a friend of the influential Elector, whom some would have been glad to see on the imperial throne, and who had been appointed Controller º tºº. º WORMS. pencil Has he not money? Hast thou my penknife? I have a knife, a fork, and a spoon, Have you the inkstand? Ye have a house and a garden. I have no money. Have you my umbrella? I have a dog. He has a cat. Haye you not a knife? She has not a daughter. The boy has a teacher. We have a book. She has an umbrella. Has he not a house ? No, he has a garden. Hast thou not a pencil' No. I have a pen. He has a brother and a sister, Ye have a teacher. She has a (female) friend. de Note.—After the foregoing paragraph has been used in correcting the German translation, tºle student should write out the sentences from it in German from memory: Ich habe einen Freund, Er hat ein Haus, etc., etc., and then compare it with the German parº. graph. By such exercises he will familiarise himself radually with German phrases, and acquire, a know. edge of the language. Repetition is most important, and each study should be accurately committed to memory before the next is attempted. in North Germany until the choice of the new emperor should be concluded. An attempt at reconciliation was made : Miltiz, the pope's chamberlain, who had invited Luther to a confer- ence, giving up the sale of indulgences as inde- fensible; and thereformer on his part disclaiming any intention of interfering with the privileges of the papal throne; but this good understanding was abruptly terminated. Dr. John Eck,0f Ingol- stadt, challenged Luther and his friend Carlstadt of Wittenberg to a disputation at Leipsic. In the castle of the old sº town, the Pleissenburg, the dis. ...P.” *- with Dr. Eck, putants met, in presence of the Elector himself and of many nobles and gentle- men. Heated by controversy, and excited per- haps by the presence of his patron, Luther here took bolder ground. He denied Eck's assertion that the Supremacy of the pope was a Divine 122 THE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Ordinance, declaring it to be a mere human ar- rangement, instituted some centuries after the be- ginning of the Christian era. Ecklost his temper, and hotly accused Luther of Hussite heresy. Luther boldly retorted that the teachings of Huss contained a great amount of evangelical truth, and that Church councils were not infal- lible. The breach was widened by this Leipsic disputation, and compromise was now impossible. While Luther found a warm admirer and coadjutor in Carlstadt, whose zeal carried him farther in the direction of change than the fiery reformer himself ever went, and who advocated the sup- pression of conventual orders altogether, it was Carlstadt the innovator, º º º w º | | | i. º architect could hardly have been found than Philip Melanchthon. Luther himself wrote: “I am thereunto born, that I must war against hordes and devils, and go forth afield ; and therefore are my books very stormy and warlike. I must root up the logs and the stems, and hew away thorns and hedges, and fill up the pools; and am the rough pioneer who has to break a way through the forest : * * & º Il and prepare it. But Magister Melanchthon, Philip fares neatly and quietly onward, tilling and planting, sowing and water- ing with joy, according unto the gifts that God hath given him richly.” While strength of will, amounting even to obstinacy, and sometimes to THE CASTLE OF THE WARTIS UR G. fortunate that in the great undertaking a man of a very different temperament was associated; one whose gentle nature and equable temper was the best corrective of a fiery zeal that some- times overstepped the bounds of prudence. This was Philip Melanchthon, of Bretten, who Philip had been appointed Professor of Melanchthon Hebrew and Greek Literature at (1497-1569); Wittenberg, and whose learning his learning, and discretion were of inestimable service to the cause of the reformers. Luther's part was to overturn strongholds of error, and to clear the ground; Melanchthon's to set up castles of truth. It was not enough to pull down, it was necessary to build; and a better intolerance, was the chief characteristic of Luther, Melanchthon was ever gentle, conciliat- ing, even timid. Luther had the high combative spirit that is only aroused to more decided ac- tion by opposition, and that extracts fresh hope from difficulty. Like the fabled Antaeus, every blow intended to overthrow him only caused him to spring with renewed vigour from the contact with Mother Earth; but Melanchthon, a man of a quiet spirit, not unfrequently despond- ing, Sometimes required the vigorous admoni- tions of Luther, to keep him from looking back after he had put his hand to the plough. “Master Philip, Master Philip,” once exclaimed the undaunted reformer, in reply to some faint- HISTORY OF MoDERN TIMES 123 hearted remarks of Melanchthon, “why will you not let God govern His own world in His own way ?” and again, when Melanchthon, sorely troubled by illness and discouragement, would gladly have passed away in sleep to eternal peace: “No, no, Philip,” cried Luther, “thou Luther's boldness and further,”—and sturdily declared Melanchthon's “he would bring back the Ma- timidity, gister Philip, with the help of God, from the º grave to cheer- fulness.” The two men Were fast friends, and continued so, without an interruption to their friend- ship, until that sad day when Melanchthon stood beside the coffin of the stronger leader who had fought beside him for twenty-eight years. They were exactly calculated to assist each other. Melanch- thon leaned on Luther's sturdy strength; Iuu- ther was con- tinually in- debted to the profound learn- ing of Melanch- thon, who was indeed, as one of his contem- poraries ad- miringly called him, Abyssus i; º | must serve the Lord our God still against Luther, condemning the reformer's works to the flames as heretical, and threatening him with ºb ... communication’ if within the"ºº" and Leo X, space of sixty days he did not recant his errors. This condemnation of an unheard and absent man excited general indignation, especially in Saxony. Luther re- plied by two powerful pamphlets: To the Chris- tian A olility of the German Nation, and Of B a bºy lo m i a n Captivity and Christian Free- dom. In the former treatise he vigorously exposed the oppression and humiliation endured from Rome by Ger- many, and called his coun- trymen to join in abolishing old abuses, crushing the arrogance of the papacy, im- proving educa- tion, and Sub- ordinating the Church to the national law. In the second he handled the all - important subject of the Sacraments. The effect Of these writings, which re- echoed through the heart of G e T m a n y, proved to the apostle of the eruditionis, -a. l{eformation bachelor of arts that the hour at fourteen, for decisive doctor of phi- action had losophy at come. On the seventeen, and 10th Of Decem- at twenty-one ber, 1520, in the most youth- ă. the presence of ful of professors —- a great crowd of ancient lam- - : * ~ * :- - - - I..... …' …~~<=-ºs-E- of students and guages at the * Roland-- ~~~. T.' " " " - - --~~~:=== citizens, pub- University of LUTIII: R's HOUSE AT FBANKFORT. licly, outside Wittenberg. Angry at the persistency with which Luther and Melanchthon denied the Divine origin of the papacy, Dr. Eck proceeded to . Rome, armed with a book Written #. #. by himself wherein the contrary view was learnedly supported by extracts from the fathers and from decretals; and he succeeded in procuring from Pope Leo X., now thoroughly alarmed for the position of the Church in Germany, a bull the Elster gate of Wittenberg, he burnt the book of papal decrees, and the bull of dº. burn. s = - - e Pope's bull, excommunication issued by Leo X. . . ;) “Because thou, godless book, hast “” ” ” aggrieved the saint of the Lord,” he cried, “let eternal fire consume thee.” This Was utter and complete defiance of Rome; and a recon- ciliation between Luther and the pope Was henceforth impossible. * The young Emperor Charles V. had resisted 124 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. the glowing appeals of Ulrich of Hutten, Francis of Sickingen, and other leaders of the liberal party in Germany, to place himself at the head of the great movement for spiritual freedom, to guide and control it. For Charles believed in repression rather than progress. In his mind the idea of religious liberty was fraught with peril to all temporal authority ; and he became the declared and consistent opponent of the reformers. Luther was sum- . a moned before the imperial diet bet. . et held in 1521 at Worms, to answer of worms, 1521, for his contumacy towards the head of the Church. He was fur- nished with an imperial letter of safe-conduct; but a similar document had been powerless, a Century before, to save John Huss from the flames. Some timid friends counselled him to stay away from the assembly; but the undaunted reformer declared that if there were as many devils in the place as tiles upon the houses, he Would go. History presents no more impres- Siye sight than the scene of the great hall of Worms, wherein were assembled those who came to delfver judgment on the most momentous question that had agitated the world since the establishment of Christianity. On the one side Was arrayed all the pomp, ecclesiastical and temporal, of a mighty empire: the young emperor, to whom had descended a mightier inheritance than any one man had possessed since the cathedral of Aix la Chapelle received the dust of Charlemagne, seven centuries before; his brother Ferdinand, to whom he had en- trusted the government of Austria; the princes of Germany, the electors spiritual and temporal, the wise Frederick of Saxony, the politic Philip The Reformer of Hesse. These, with a crowd before the of notabilities, the powerful and Council, the high-born, formed the tribunal. ** And On the other side stood alone and Solitary the Augustine monk, strong in the consciousness of right and justice, standing erect before the great assembly, trusting to the power of truth alone, his one Weapon the Bible. “My conscience and the Word of God hold me prisoner,” he replied, When summoned to abjure what his enemies called his heresies; “therefore I may not and will not recant. Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise. God help me. Amen l’” Well did the judicious and zealous Mathe- sius write of this great event, “This is one of the glorious days, before the end of the world, on which the Word of God has been professed and confessed publicly, with Christian re- joicings, before the Roman emperor and the whole empire of Germany.” A century earlier, the fate of the man who dared thus publicly to defy such an assembly as the Diet of Worms would not have been doubtful. The fire and the faggot would have been the heretic's doom. But the heart of Germany had been stirred to its depths by the contest between religious tyranny and freedom, the papacy and the Bible ; and the sympathy of the nobles and people alike was so strongly expressed in favour of the dauntless monk, that his opponents hesitated to adopt extreme measures against him. Not until after the reformer and various princes and deputies had uitted the city was the ban of the empire hurled against Luther * and his adherents; his writings ...i were condemned to the flames. y 30, 10%i. Outlawed and excommunicated, Luther was in the greatest peril; but from this he was rescued by the thoughtful care of the Elector of Saxony. On his return from Worms, Luther's carriage was stopped by armed men, who, acting under the Orders of the Elector, carried the reformer to the Wartburg, the old castle of the landgraves of *. the Thuringia, near Eisenach. Here, urg, Luther remained in concealment, under the disguise of a knight, or rather a man-at-arms, and bearing the name of “Junker Georg " (Master George). Many of his friends mourned him as dead, until the appearance of Some vigorous pamphlets against Albert of Mayence, who had again caused indulgences to be sold, gave convincing proof that the pen which had sent forth the stirring appeal against the “Baby- lonian Captivity” was as active as ever. “While our doctor was kept quite secretly at the Wart- burg,” writes Mathesius, “he was not idle, but daily pursued his studies and his prayers; he devoted himself to the Greek and Hebrew Bibles, and sent many kind, consolatory letters to his friends.” “I intend to translate the New Testament into our mother tongue, as Our people wish,” wrote Luther. “Oh that every city had its own translator, so that this book might be in the hands and hearts of every One !” The old Wartburg was indeed a Patmos to the reformer ; and the work he was pursuing—the translation of the Bible—was to remain as a costly legacy to his countrymen and the world for all time. º -ºx-sº-º-º: §§ſº §3%: }Sº º ETIC. Histºl; §§§§§2: sº | | Wºl\\\ º bºº Sº º - Fº E- º • Cººſ & Cº.Kºc Cºcºa º º MULTIPLICATION. MULTIPLICATION is a short method of finding the amount when a number is repeated (i.e. added to itself) several times. Thus 5 multi- plied by 3 (i.e. 3 times 5) means that three 5's are to be added together ; ... 3 times 5 = 5 The number which is to be repeated is called the multiplicand; in the above oxample 5 is the multiplicand. The number which shows how often the multiplicand is to be repeated is called the multiplier; in the above example 3is the multiplier. The number found by multi- plication is called the pro-luct; in the above example 15 is the product. The multiplicand and the multiplier are also called factors or makers of the product. The sign X means that the two numbers between which it stands are to be multiplied together. Thus 3 times 5 is written 3 × 5. When two numbers are to be multiplied A RITH METIO. 125 ------ - together, it makes no matter which we consider as the multiplier. For example, 3 × 5 = 5 × 3. This may be proved by performing the additions in each case.” For 3 × 5 = 3 + 3 + 3 + 3 + 3 = 15, and 5 × 3 = 5 + 5 + 5 = 15. The student must commit to memory the products of all numbers up to 12, by all other numbers up to 12. The following table shows these products at a glance :— MULTIPLICATION TABLE. | 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 | 11 12 8 10 12 || 14 16 || 1S 20 22 || 24 | 9 |12 || 15 18 || 2 || 24 27 || 30 || 33 ||36 - 20 24 28 || 32 || 36 40 44 || 48 15|20 25 º 35 | 40 45 || 50 55 60 12 18 24 30 36 42 is 54 || 0 | 66 | 72 35 42 |49 |50 63 10 || 7 | 84 40 , 48 || 56 64 | 72 | SO | 8 || 96 45 54 63 72 81 | 90 99 || 108 50 60 70 80 90 100 110 | 120 55 66 || 77 || 88 99 || 110 | 121 | 132 60 72 | 84 96 |IOS º 132 || 1:44 6 2 4 6 8 10 I 14 J6 || 24 || 32 1 11 22 || 33 || 44 12 24 || 36 || 48 To find by it the product of any two numbers, look for one of the numbers in the top hori- zontal row of figures, which runs across the page from left to right, and look for the other number in the lefthand vertical column run- ning down the page; follow down the vertical column in which the first number stands, until it meets the horizontal row in which the second number stands; the number in which both meet is the required product. For example, to find the product of 7 and 5, the numbers 7 and 5 will be found in this table, as the accompanying dia- gram indicates, and their product, 35, will be found where, as in the diagram, the column containing the 7 meets the row containing the 5. . Before we state the usual rule for multiplying one number by another, it is important to understand the following reasoning, on which in fact the rule is founded. Example 1.—Suppose we want to multiply 235 by 6. Now 235 = 5 units+ 3 tens + 2 hundreds; ..". 6 times 235 = 6 times 5 units + 6 times 3 tens –– 6 times 2 hundreds == 30 units + 18 tens--12hundreds Now 30 units == 0 units + 3 tens ; ".. we may write the above 0 units + 21 tens + 12 hundreds. Again, 21 tens = 1 ten + 2 hundreds ; ... the above is the same as 0 units + 1 ten + 14 hundreds, * Multiplication is really a short method of per- forming addition in a certain case—viz., in the case when the numbers to be added are all equal to each other. Thus 3 times 15 means lä + 15 + 15; 4 times 120 means 120 + 120 + 120 + 120. When the multiplier is a large number, it is evident that a great deal of labour is saved by the method of multiplication. 35 which again is the same as 0 units+ 1 ten + 4 hundreds + 1 thousan (i.e. 1410 in the usual notation); - ..". 6 × 235 = 1410. If we examine the above process we find that the result is got by multiplying each figure of the multiplicand (235) by the multiplier (6), then writing down the right-hand figure of each product, and adding the remaining figure (when there is one) to the next product ; and this is, in fact, the rule for multiplication “when the multiplier is a single figure. This rule may be stated as follows:— First case.—When the multiplier is 12, or any number smaller than 12. Rule.—Beginning at the Tight hand, multiply each figure of the multiplicand by the multiplier. Write down the right-hand (or units) figure of each product, and add the remaining figure (if there be one) to the next product, exactly as in addition. - Applying this Tule to the example taken before, find the product of 235 multiplied by 6. We say 6 times 5 make 30; 235 ... put down 0 and carry 3 to the 6 next product. The next product is 6 times 3 (i.e. 18), and adding the 3 we have 21; ... put down the 1 and carry the 2 to the next product. w The next product is 6 times 2 (i.e. 12); adding the 2 we have 14, which we write in full. t Example 2.-Find the value of 5 times 903. Say 5 times 3 make 15 ; put 903 down 5 and carry l ; 5 times 0. 5 make 0, add 1 makes 1 ; ... put down 1 ; 5 times 9 make 45 ; write this down in full. Eacercises : Find the products in the following cases — (a) 7085 × 3 ; 876 × 7 : 4012 × 5; 86.42 × 9 (b) 543 × 3; 476 × 4 ; 763 × 5; 379 × 6 ; 245 × 7 ; 566 × S ; 827 × 9. - (c) 489507 × 2 ; 654764 × 3; 200705 × 4; 924654 × 5; 753407 × 6 ; 92.3247 × 7 ; 951847 × 8 ; 657432 × 9. Answers: (a) 21255; 6132; 20060 ; 77778. *- 1410 - 4515 (b) 1629; 1904 : 3815; 2274; 1715; 4528 ; 7443. (e) 979014; 1964.292; 802820; 4623270 : 4520442; 6462729 ; 76.14776 ; 5916SSS. Suppose there are more than one figure in the multiplier ; for instance, 231 × 246. Now 246 = 6 + 40 + 200 : ‘.. if we multiply 231 by 6, by 40, and by 200 successively, and add the three products, we shall have multiplied by 246. Doing this and arranging our work as follows, we have : 23] 246 1386 = 6 times 231 9240 = 40 , 231 46200 = 200 23] 56826 = 246 - 231 I26 THE UNIVERSA I, IVSTI? UCTOR. Clearly it will make no difference if we omit the 0 in the second line (9240) and the two 0's in the third line (46.200), provided we keep the other figures in their own places. Our products would then stand thus: 1386 924 462 - 56826 It is not difficult to see that the process we have made use of in this example is equivalent to the following rule : Second case.—When the multiplier is greater than 12. Eule.—1. Place the multiplier under the mul- tiplicand, so that the units of the one stand under the units of the other; the tens under the tens; hundreds under hundreds, and So on. 2. Multiply the multiplicand by the right hand or units figure of the multiplier (this is done by the rule given above in the first case), and write down this product. 3. Multiply the multiplicand by the second (or tens) figure of the multiplier, and write this second product under the first, but one place to the left, so that units of second pro- duct stand under tens of first product, tens of second product under hundreds of first, and so on. Proceed in the same way with the third. fourth, and other figures of the multiplier, and then add up the several products as they stand. The sum thus obtained is the product of the two given numbers. Let us apply this rule to the example already taken. 1. Multiplying 231 by 6 we get 1386, 2 924. 231 * 35 3 * 33 * 246 and we write this under the 1386, —— but so that its units figure (4), 1386 comes under the tens figure (8). 924 3. Multiplying 231 by 2 we get 462, 462 and we write this under the 924, —— but so that its units (2) stand 56826 under the tens (2), of the 924. 4. Now add up our three products as they stand, and we get 56826. Let us take another illustration of the rule. Multiply 372 by 154. Multiplying 372 by 4 we get 372 1488. Then multiplying 372 by 154 5 we get 1860, which we write gººmsºmºmºsº- under the 1488, but one place to 1488 the left, so that the units of the 1860 second product stand under the 372 tens of the first. •=msº Finally multiply 372 by 1 and 57288 write the product under the pre- - ceding product, but so that, as before, units come under tens, and so on. Now add up the three products, as they stand. The result is 57288, which is the re- quired product of the two factors 372 and 154. We may express this result thus: 372 × 154 = 57288. º:= <> IV. (continued). THE FIRST STEP IN SINGING. WE are writing with some reference to solitary students. It is to be hoped that many who: study these chapters will have the help of a teacher, either in class or privately, in their first attempts. By all means let them have this, if circumstances favour. But in our lessons we shall always have in mind those who cannot obtain help, and who plod on by themselves, correcting their own mistakes, and finding their own way back if they wander from the straight road. There is no help like that of a living teacher, especially in an imi- tative art like music. But a word may be said for solitary study. It creates a s.l., habit of carefulness and of proving Solitary study. everything. Facts and rules to which the student has himself worked his way are burnt into his memory, while the easily-received dis- course of a teacher is too often forgotten. Those who wish to teach themselves to sing (and the thing can certainly be done) ought to have some means of correcting their own first attempts, and for this purpose they may use a pianoforte or harmonium. Any One who knows the places of the notes C B A can sound them after the student's voice in the following exercises. Smaller instruments may be helpful to some extent. A friend's voice or his violin will give by far the best pattern; for the common piano or harmonium give the “fifths” rather flat and the “thirds' sharp. The whole structure of modern music and of harmony is based on the fact that in every tune there is a certain central or key sound, on which all the other sounds are attendant, and this (except in minor tunes, to be afterwards explained) we call Doh. This Doh may be a different sound in One tune from the DoJº of another , , }} tune. But whatever the sound of Doh,” Doh, the other tones of the tune stand always in the same relation to it. High tones are those which reach towards what is commonly known as the squeak. Low tones are those which reach towards the growl. JDoh may be high in one tune and low in another. Soon we shall show how to fia, the height or lowness of Doſ : at present it is enough that the learner should be able to sound a high tone of his voice, a middle tone, and a lom: tone. Let him practise to do this. The relations to Doh, which the ear and voice have to recognize and learn, are both few and simple. Only let the first steps be carefully taken, and all the rest is easy. Ex. I.-The student sings a tone in the lower part of his voice to Doh, and a sº, n immediately after sings a tone Soh. at a certain distance (called a fifth) above it. A central sound. MUSIC. Let him call this new tone Soh. This exercise may be verified on the pianoforte thus:– ſ) ſ –0– #– * —f TºT - #|&##= -6- Doh Soh Doh Soh DOh Soh The imagination of the solitary student may be made to help his ear and voice, if we de- scribe Soh as brighter than Doh. When we represent them by colours we make Doh blue and Soh red. When we represent them by * shapes Doh is a strong square, #: standing On one of its sides, and g Soh is the same standing on one of its corners. When we represent them by hand-signs Doh is a firmly-clenched fist, and Soh is an open hand with the thumb pointing upward. But the patterm must be heard first. Imagination can only help to fix the relation on the memory when it has once been heard. The effort to make the two tones sound well together, or “in good tune " with one another, will be helpful. The vibrations of Soh should strike the ear every second time that those of Doh strike it. They strike very often together. The piano and harmonium give this interval more flat and dull than it should be. The voice and the violin are more perfect and true in their intonation. The student will not be perfect in this ex- ercise until he can take any sound as Doh, and strike from his own feeling, without the help of a teacher or the piano, the Soh above it. The pitch of the Dok on the piano is of no consequence. It is the relationship of the JDoh to the Soh that he must think of. After the first pattern, in no case should the Soh be sounded on the piano until after the student has attempted to Sound it. If this is done before, the value of the exercise is mil. Ex. II.-The student now must learn a tone between Doh and Soh, called Me. § { ; ) Me, Let these exercises be sung and verified : | *—e— --- A- |ºf== *m-. —eº- Q J sº- Doh Soh Me Doh Soh Me Doh Soh Me To help imagination let us call Me the calm. tone. In the use of hand-signs we represent it by an open hand with the palm down, as though asking for quiet. At every fourth vibration of Doh, the vibrations of Me strike in with it. Its true intonation is a little flatter and sweeter than that which the piano gives. Ex, III.-Now let the following exercises be sung. If the student has learnt the sounds of Soh and Me in relation to Doh, the help of the piano will not be necessary. The staff nota- tion, therefore, is not given. Change the pitch of Doh each time : a. Doh Soh Me Soh Doh. b. Doh Me Soh Me Doh. c. Doh Me Doh Soh Me. d. Doh Soh Doh Me Soh. Try now to conjure up in your mind an 127 _º image of Me and Soſ, and Doh. See if your ears cannot distinguish them, as your eyes distinguish the faces of your friends. Think of them wholly apart from any of the notes of the piano, and only as related to each other. The “nearest relation of three tones " has now been established in voice and ear. At every fourth vibration of Doh, Ilſe and Soh strike with it—llſe striking its Chord fifth vibration and Soh its siath, OrCIS, Soh having already struck with Doh at Doh's second vibration. Tones thus related are called a major common chord. The musical scale is made up of three such chords. Ex. IV.—Thé student now recognizes and sounds the men, Doh’s, Me's and Soh's that are repeated above and below those already learnt. The upper Doh is distinguished by a dash at the right-hand upper corner, thus—Doh". The same with Me" and Sohº. On the other hand, the lower notes have a dash below—as Dohi, Mei, Easy recognition. Tpper and lower registers. Sohº. The following exercises are to be sung. The staff notation is given for the first two — {} - | Lºſ Cº. Cº. H Doh" IZN zºº) zº, i. NUI e— F-e | -- J -e- —e- a. Doh Me Soh Don Doh Soh Me Doh Soh -ÉH Ll Me -— A- 2–~ | –2–3–- 2–H - - -6-2- &EP * Doh b. Doh Me Doh Sohl Me Soh Sohl Doh c. Doh Sohl Doh Me Soh Me Doh. Soh d. Doh Soh Me Soh Doli Doh' Me Soh. 1 These exercises may be multiplied to any extent by the use of the diagram at the side. Let the notes on it be sung in every variety of Order. * In future exercises, instead of Doh, Me, and Soh being written in full, their initial letters d, m, and s will be used. So far we have dealt only with Tune. The sounds we have sung have only differed from each other in being higher or lower, or in their relationship to the governing sound Doh. There are, however, other respects in which Sounds can differ, the chief of which are Accent, or stress, and Time, or duration. In speaking these words—“awful thunder resounds,” we make some syllables heavy and some light ; we give stress to some, and pass lightly over others. Music is in this respect like speech, with the exception that its accents occur regularly, while those of speech are irregular. In speech, a word like “thunder,” with stress on the first syllable, may be followed by a word like “resounds,” with stress on the second, and this may be followed by a word like “triumphant,” with stress on the middle syllable. In music, on the other hand, whatever accent is adopted is adhered to, as in poetry— “Softly sweet in Lydian measure,” Accent. 128 THE UAVIVERSAI, WAVSTA UCTOR. Or - “Awake my soul, and with the sun.” RULE.—A note that bears stress or accent has a perpendicular line before it ( , ), one that bears only a neak stress or accent has a colon (:). Ex. V.-Sing the following, first to doh, and then to the words, noticing how the verbal and musical accents correspond — | d : d d : d |d : diſ * Wel- come, brave north-eas - ter, d d : d d : d d || To arms, to arms, ye brave. In these cases the strong and weak accents are alternate, but in the following cases two weak accents follow each strong accent. ; : ; : : : | Laughter we find a new cess - i - ty. : | : , ; , ; ; | I sprang to the stirrup, a - way. There is not in this wide world. The distance from one strong accent to the next is called a measure. The distance from “Pulse" and ** accent of any sort to another ... is called a pulse. . When the accent is thus — strong weak, strong weak—it is two-pulse measure; when it is thus—strong weak weak, strong weak weak— it is three-pulse measure. A tune may begin at the second or third pulse of a measure, as well as at the first. See the above examples. Sometimes a measure is spoken of as a bar, but we prefer to reserve that word for the per- pendicular line which separates measures. A double bar denotes the close of a tune or section. -" E. - – s *|| || *...* A amº jºši; º h - - • d º § § * & !, Tº º Jº lºſſ & º Eß:Else:::::::::: ºſtºº §ft||| |} <> §|; º § º ; § § #|| Nº tººt-º- ºr- ºrº tºº lºººººº ºne s = - see- - - * . §§ § - Sº, º *:.. tº lºº G ºr 2 c. º º *:: QUEEN ELIZABETH's VIRGINAL. When a tone is continued from One pulse into the next, we mark the continua- tº tion by a horizontal line (–). º: and When a pulse is divided into * * halves, we place a dot in the middle of it ( . . ;). . We now give some exercises which embrace these new points. “Key C” or “Key D’” mean that Doh is a low tone of the voice, “Key G" or “Key F" mean that Doh is a middle tone of the voice. EX, WI. KEY C. Slowly,–and quickly. * d : m s :'s d.m. ; d.mſ s : — m : S d! . ...." : — |. : d m : m 'd .d.; m.s 'm : — a : m 'm : m m.m: m.m' d I The above exercise is in two parts—that is, the two lines of notes are intended to be sung together. The brace at the beginning (~~~) binding the two lines together shows this. The student, if he has no companion, may sing first one line and then the other. Ex, VII. KEY D. Slowly,– and quickly. d.m. ; m |d m m § : 8 , 11 --" - “. d' : S \ d! - d : d |d : d d . m . m d — In : Il IIl : IIl IIl . S : S | In : — The above exercise introduces a slight independence between the parts, which must be care- fully observed. - EX, WIII. KEY G. Slowly,–and quickly. s () s, d m .d s, d m : d : m , d : Si .d m : d s : Si d l s, my:m1 milmi mi:m1 | Si d : Si mi : mi.sil d.d : d mi : Sl |- - *** * *. r | * ! * %. Algebra. *. ANATOMY : ~. Animal. , Comparative. Human. Arithmetic. Astronomy. Biography. Book-keeping. Botany. Chemistry. - CoMMERCE: History, Practice. Drawing. - Electricity. | Elocution. English Grammar. English Literature. Ethnology. SOPHY : Magnetism. Electricity. Galvanism. Heat. Light. Chemistry. Sound. FINE ARTs: Drawing. Perspective. ture. Music. Singing. French Language. French Literature. } Galvanism. GEOGRAPHY : Physical. Political, EXPERIMENTAL PHILo- Meteorology, &c. &c. Sketching from Na- f } Geology. Geometry. German Language. German Literature. Greek Language. Greek Literature. Health. Heat. HISTORY : \ Ancient. Sacred. Mediaeval. Modern. Great Britain Ireland. Hydrostatics. Italian Language. Italian Literature. Land-surveying. and LANGUAGES : Ancient— Latin. Greek. Modern— French. German. Italian. Spanish. Latin Language Latin Literature, Light. LITERATURE: ` Ancient— Roman. Greek. Modern— English. French. German. Italian. Spanish. 3– WARD & LOCKS || G0NTAINS ALL WEGESSARY DIRECTIONS FOR ACQUIRING PROFICIENCY IN THE FOLLOWING AMONG 0THER SUBJECTS : Logarithms. Machines & Machinery. Magnetism. MATHEMATICs : Arithmetic. Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry, &c. MECHANICAL PHILO- SOPHY : Mechanics. Hydrostatics. Hydraulics. Pneumatics. Mensuration. Meteorology. Mineralogy. Music. NATURAL HISTORY: Mineralogy. Geology. Botany. Zoology. Animal Physiology. Human Physiology. Vegetable Physiology Comparative Ana- tomy, &c. Perspective. Physiology, Animal. Physiology, Human, Pneumatics. Reading. Shorthand. Singing. - Sketching from Nature. Sound. Spanish Language. Spanish Literature. Trigonometry, Writing. Zoology. PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS MONTHLY. NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEws company. T - <& ^. } The following are a few selections :— “THE WORK IS EXCELLENT, AND IT IS TO BE HOPED IT MAY MEET WITH THE POPULARITY IT DESERVES.”—The Athenaeum. “We have waited to see the second part before expressing an opinion upon ‘Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor; or, Self-Culture for All,” and find the promise of the opening more than fulfilled now that the subjects are beginning to advance. . . . . The various authors have evidently laboured to condense the greatest amount of information into their lessons, and while helping beginners, they in no way overlook the requirements of students who need higher instruction. The comprehensive excellence of the work is combined with cheap- ness, and thus it offers an undoubted boon to those who wish to enrich their minds and improve their position by self-culture.”—London Daily Chronicle, “We are pleased with this first part, and can imagine the wealth of advantage which many young students will gain from its use. It is well printed on good paper of a handy size. . . . . It is a very cheap and useful publication.”—The Christian World. \ “The first number is a storehouse of knowledge in itself, and at the first start a good Selection of subjects are dealt with. The contributors include some of the best known men in their various de- partments of knowledge. . . . . . The work pro- mises to be one difficult to excel as a means of imparting educational knowledge for everyone.”— The Derby Telegraph. “We can heartily recommend this new publica- tion to all who are desirous of self-culture; the contributions, as well as the illustrations, are all good.”—Sheffield Telegraph. _* The work, which is well got up, is an important and valuable addition to the educational literature of the day.”—Bristol Mercury. “We do not hesitate to say that the ‘Universal Instructor,' when completed, will, to those who carefully study its pages, prove to be one of the greatest educational blessings which have emanated from any publishing firm. . . . . . We should rejoice to know that this most valuable work was to be found in every family.”—Derbyshire Gazette. “We feel assured that the publication will be productive of much good, as it appears to be admir- ably adapted to the requirements of all classes of students.”—Western Daily Mercury. } some OPINIONS OF THE BRITISH PREss WARD AND LOCK'S UniMBTSăl IllStriſtſ). This Work has been reviewed by a very large number of Newspapers and Literary and Educational Periodicals throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland, and in all cases favourably. NEW YORK : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. | * { t . ; # J $ !, * ti “It promises to be a work of undoubted merit, and of real value. . . . . We predict for it much." acceptance by those who desire to acquire learning . and to become well-informed men.”—The Educa: tional Chronicle. r \ * “All the subjects are treated in an easy, simple, clear, comprehensive manner; and from a carefui perusal of the present part, we can safely recom: '' mend the work as one of sterling merit.”—Dundee Courier, * “The more we see of this admirable work the more we think of it. Every subject is made so clear, and is expressed in, so simple and definite . language, that every one may learn himself. , we know no better book for self-cultivation, and it will , form a good library in itself when completed,” – Dundee Advertiser. º ? “We cannot too highly praise ‘Ward and Lock's * Universal Instructor.' . . . . It will be a treasure to all who wish to improve their knowledge; and the excellent character of the publication is fully main.' tained in the current issue.”—Boston Guardian. Nº , “A more useful work than this no man could , provide for a son or a daughter of studious turn."— The Chelmsford Chronicle. “So worthy of popular estimation does it seem : to us, that we are convinced that if one number is purchased the whole series will be taken, and it . cannot be too highly spoken of.”—East Anglian Daily Times. * ! “There will never cease to be many fields and abundant scope for self-instruction, and always a large number of students to whom such a work will be a welcome boon.”—School Board Chronicle. ,” “The impression which a glance throught its pages has left upon us is one of extreme satis. faction. . The nature of the subjects taken up and the admirable manner in which they are treated in the part before us, place this work in advance of some other publications that claim to be cyclo- I paedic in their scope, and similar in their character. . . . . But the great number of subjects on which instruction is conveyed is not the only feature of the work which commands admiration. The man-, ner of teaching is a matter of no less importance, “[. , and this is in every case practical, clear, and intel. ' ligible.”—The Weekly Budget. ', y R At C- 2, º f o 5 Partºº-, W. S. E--> s-s--- E.-------------------- |Price 25 Cents. - ~. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - == <==-s: =====º-E:= | wº ſº || Al-géº & || ANATO MY ºr - ARCH ITECTURE ARITH METIC ºr #| ASTRON O MY cº- B I O C R A PHY cº- B00 V-KEEP INC. BOTANY - - - - | || CHEMISTRY :- “ABOVE ALL THINGs STUDY." i | - * ~ *- * * * * tºº a º ſº a sº i \ \\ || || || ||aº \ ºf ººº- ºr sº A VV Rºvº N Nº sº *s or ºl tº is º º , a c e º wº cºnt ºw tº ºr sº tº seen ºf is snºw I toº ºl ---, -szes razºrszºº.º.º.º. -- are ºf e C º'ee cºe assº era ºººººººººº e º e s are scº S.A. P. Sººººº….S.S.S.-sº * & C * * * Cºººººººººº. Cºxº º Nº Sºº º Sºº tº U P E.: º º 3. *\º Nº.§ ſº D. s. sº º º - º: # RB& & 88 tº §§ § §§§ § § LE Ş A.Ş. Nº º § ºSl § ºº * L § #A WA & A \º § ºf :A Vº º: § C º tº º e tº º C º Q & sº º ºsº ºCºcº Cº ÄRosfocKS º PAQ ſº. - " - F - © º sº º º º sº º Xº ºr ſº º cº ºccº e º ºsº sº & Cº -ºº º º * * * * * ~ * exceeºº.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º. ºººººººººººººººººººººº. tº cº-º-º-º: & ºs R …Yºº tº Q Q_º ºne ºne C C º, CEO GRAPHY - CEO LOGY - - - CEO METRY - GERMAN : * | CRAMMAR • * | GREEK - - - - H STORY ITALIAN LOGARTHMS LOC I C d MACNETISM YMECHANICS - NAENSURATION METEOROLOGY: MINERALOGY MUSIC NAVICATION ... PAl NT IN C & " | PENMAN SHIP PERSPECTIVE - PHYSICS PHYSIOLO CY - SHORT-HAND SPANISH STEPANA-ENG | NE SURV EYi N C " | TRIC on Ortetry| 8.8 &e ºvgºrº tº º C º C C C tº C C * * º * a-s - * ~ * 3.A.; W. LAT N. º º C * º THE INTERNATIONAL NEws company, AGENTS FOR AMERICA : 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New York. ---...-- ---------- ºr ºr * * ºr " -- ~ ---------º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º-º: Comple te in 39 t - 1– *— - * THE NEW SERIAL FOR SELF-EDUCATORs. Forming the Cheapest and most Useful Work ever issued for the People. -" PRICE 25 CENTS, MONTHLY. W A R D & LOC K'S NWFSML INSTRUCTOR; r, Self-Culture for All. *...* with PART 1, is PRESENTED GRATIS a Valuable CHART OF THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, and with PART III. a CHART illustrating the INTELLECTUAL AND MATERIAL PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. | { RecognisiNG the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exists for carefully prepared literature suited to the wants'of Self-Educators, WARD, LOCK & Co. have prepared a Serial Work of an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete Encyclopædia of Zearºzèng, meeting the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such features as will, the Publishers confidently believe, give it a marked superiority over every similar undertaking. The comprehensive- ness of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illustrations, the convenience of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominent position. *- W IT CANNOT BE Too OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, for, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. Hence naturally arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on better terms with those around, not only in business but in social life? This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR undertakes to anSWer. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is nothing short of a Oniversity at Home, and will admirably suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning, At the same time, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR does not overlook the wants of those more fortunately situated. It contains exact information on every subject likely to be useful to those able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. j • THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR cover the whole field of knowledge. They extend, as will be seen from the list given on page, 3, from the most elementary to the most advanced, and, taken together, form a £erfect system of Zºellectual Culture. . The latest thought of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, find adequate representation ; and whilst we would avoiá pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in affirming that our lessons will prove eminently lively and interesting. ,” THE WRITERs will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics with which they deal, and in nothing, the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, is the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. , , ſ THE ILLUSTRATIONS are to be numbered' by hundreds, and may be depended upon as accurate and authentic. BUT THE OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is not only to impart learning and make well- informed men. It has been kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to Žag zwiser and better lives. The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR endeavours to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making students, it fails to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth, ! Such, then, being the OBJECTS and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the Publishers confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not?—in the elevation of the people, the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will be slow' to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations so elevated, t | “@Bube all thingá, Ātutſm. Cºſbetber fºr the gaite of Icariting ºr fur attp utbcr reagan, gtung. āfur tubateber the mutifies that impel puu at first, puu will germ flugu late gtung for itā uſutt gaite.” is For List of Subjects included the THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, see Aage 3, and for opinions of the British Press, see A&e 4 of this cozier. • º, • f NEW YORK : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. PIII/SICAI, GEO GAA PHY, 129 §§º º º ºv º zº ¥8:S tº *º-º º s: 3%'º ºf 2 a. $º º º SSº º: º £º PROPORTIONS OF LAND AND WATER. AN estimate of the entire superficies of the globe places it at about 197,000,000 of square miles, of which very little more than one- quarter is occupied by land, estimated at nearly 51,000,000, of which 37,000,000 are in the Eastern hemisphere, and 14,000,000 in the Western. In the former, the preponderance of land is to the north of the equator ; in the latter it is more equally divided. Taking the entire surface of the globe into account, only a very little more than one-quarter of the whole extent of land is to the south of the equator. It has been remarked as a fact, which English- men, at any rate, may note with satisfaction, Lončon - RELATIVE PROPORTION of LAND IN NorthERN AND souTHERN HEMISPHEREs. that if a globe on which the superficial features of the earth are delineated is turned so that the greatest mass of land is visible, it will be found that London is as nearly as possible the centre of the hemisphere so brought into view; and, remarks Paofessor Geikie, “no doubt this central position has not been without its influence in fostering the progress of British commerce.” This may not be an unquestioned result, our commerce being chiefly by ocean communications and with coast districts; but this is a matter with which we are not at the present concerned. It is more to the purpose that a view of the two hemispheres of the earth's surface, of one of which London, and of the other its antipodes, is the centre, con- veys the most accurate idea of the relative proportions of land and water, as shown in the accompanying diagrams. It must be remembered that those portions of the earth's surface described as ‘land are only these parts which are above The*****, the surface of the sea, that great watery envelope—if we may use the term— which, not sufficient in quantity to cover the WOL. I. Centre of the land masses. whole surface of the globe, Teaches only to a certain height, and covers formations similar to those which are left exposed to view. Be- neath the sea are mountains, valleys, ridges of elevated land, and extensive plains. The mean height of the surface of the dry land does not exceed one-fifteenth of the mean depth of the bed of the Ocean. There are inland seas, once parts of the great ocean, but now isolated by convulsions of nature, which have thrown up barriers of elevated land ; and fresh water Seas, formed by the waters of great rivers spread over tracts of low land, having very limited communication with the ocean, the water making its way thither and that lost by evaporation about balancing the perpetual increment from the river systems; and there are vast districts, no doubt once covered by the Ocean, now by a change of level, either in themselves or their surroundings, sandy deserts, the sea having long since left them dry, and no rivers discharging into them. Extensive masses of the earth's surface above y y ANTIPODES OF LONDON the existing level of the sea are known as continents; but if the sea level were raised one or two thousand 92nsequences feet higher, it is evident that *** of some continental mountainous ſº districts would be changed into archipelagos, or clusters of islands, and a comparatively slight rise would make broad oceans where are now extensive plains. The familiar aspect of a tract of low-lying land, when “the floods are Out,” when a meadow becomes a lake, and the slightly rising ground is an island, may help us to realize to some extent the condition of the globe if the sea level were materially raised. In Europe, Holland, the greater part of Germany, and nearly the whole of Russia would have. disappeared ; the mountains of Norway would assume the character of long ridges, with innumerable islands; the great Alpine ranges of the south, the Pyrenees, the Apennines, the Carpathiams and Balkans, and their offshoots, would tower above a waste of waters; and Britain would assume the shape of an irregular Crescent, enclosing a bay covering the low- lands of the eastern and midland counties. That part of northern Africa now generally known 9 130 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. / at others. as the Sahara would be a huge bay of the At- lantic, with the Atlas district for a lofty rugged peninsula dividing it from the Mediterranean. Similar changes, which can readily be imagined, would be effected on the other great continents, and many large and innumerable Small islands would disappear altogether from the map. One writer on physical geography asserts that an ocean rise of 1,800 feet would submerge at least three-fourths of the existing area of land. Changes equally remarkable would occur were any considerable diminution of the quantity of water to take place, so as to reduce the level a few hundred feet below what it is at present. Tracts now islands would be joined together, forming continents, and new islands would appear, in the form of mountain peaks and ridges now submerged. Existing bays and inlets would be transformed into valleys, and the coasts of low-lying countries would be fringed with alluvial deposits, brought down by the great rivers, now carried away by ocean currents, but which, by the Tecession of the sea, would form enormous deltas, like those of the Nile, the Mississippi, the Ganges, and the Qrinoco. It has been stated on good authority, as the result of knowledge of the depth of the Sea afforded by careful soundings, Depth ºf the that if the jewel were reduced by OC68.Its little more than 1,000 feet, dry land would occupy the place of the Baltic, the German Ocean, the British and Irish Channels, and the Bay of Biscay, and the Mediterranean would be converted into a Salt lake, with a bar across the entrance at Gibraltar. It is a matter of ascertained fact that consi- derable changes of the sea-level have occurred and are in continual operation. In the articles on GEOLOGY, the subject of “ancient sea-margins” will be dealt with, and it is only necessary here to refer to a few instances in illustration. The traces of such beaches are very apparent in Wales and Scotland (especially in the latter country, where the “parallel roads of Glenroy” are very interesting); and on the south coast of England, near Plymouth, and Falmouth; in the province of Finmark (in the northern part of Norway), and in the Val de Noto, in Sicily. Remarkable ancient beaches can be traced in the valley of Lima, South America, at an eleva- tion of 700 feet above the present Sea level; and in the Arctic regions, on the coast of Kennedy Channel, between Greenland and the American continent, is a vast flight of forty-one terraced steps, 480 feet in total height, com- mencing at lat. 70° N., and continued to the “great glacier” north of Grindel Land. Even within quite recent times great changes have ;taken place on the coast of England, the sea having receded at some points and encroached Similar changes have been noted at various places on the continent of Europe, and, indeed, in many other parts. It would appear to be almost certain that wherever, even at considerable distances inland, far removed from the sea, there Chalkridges, are chalk escarpments, over- Jooking comparatively level country, as in Kent, Surrey, and Sussex, they Were at Some remote –e time cliffs bounding a sea, which has washed away the surface of the lower land. , Two forces of a contrary character are con- stantly at work varying the conformation of the coast-lines. The sea is continually undermining and washing away the softer rocks, and so forming breaches by which it enters to submerge low- lying districts; and the tide-currents also sweep along the coast, bearing in suspension a vast quantity of matter which is finally deposited in eddies, and thus harbours are silted up, sand- banks, shingle deposits and land-Spits formed, and bars at the mouths of rivers increased. Another consequence of the action of the sea is, that yº the coast is low and the bottom Sandy, the waves carry forward * the sand, which becomes dry at Sandhills. every reflux of the tide. As the habitual direc- tion of the wind is from the sea, the loose particles are farther conveyed inland, forming hillocks around stones and bushes, which in- crease into sand-hills, and are known as “dunes.” These sandy hills, which have changed fertile districts into sterile wastes, are particularly noticeable on some parts of the coast of Scotland; in Wexford, Ireland; on some parts of the coast of Denmark; and the west coast of France, washed by the Bay of Biscay. The other force in constant operation is that of many of the great rivers, which deposit alluvial matter brought from the inland districts through which * they flow. Careful observation of the accumula- tions at the mouths of some of the great rivers warrants the calculation that the Ganges deposits annually about 534,500,000 tons of solid matter, the Mississippi nearly 292,700,000 tons, and the Irawadi, in Burmah, more than 182,000,000 tons. Through these accumulations the river forces its way to the sea by many channels, forming what is known as a delta, from the approach in form to the Greek letter A, so named. The general plan of a delta is exhi- bited in the accompanying sketch of the various branches through which the Ganges reaches the Sea. THR DELTA of THE GANGBs. Near the sea, the accumulations form the marshy and terribly unhealthy district known as the Sunderbunds, extending over a space of 160 miles. The Sea front of the delta of the Nile is about 200 miles in length. In Europe, the delta formed by the united Rhone, Meuse, and Moselle constitutes the whole of the ANCIENT HISTORY. 13] Netherlands. The Hoang-Ho, traversing the great alluvial plain of China, is supposed to bring down 2,000,000 cubic feet of earth every hour. The Mississippi, a rapid stream, annually washes away many thousands of acres of land on the banks, with the growth of timber, which is carried to the sea, where it adds to the accu- mulations already existing, and arrests the progress of other matter, earthy and vegetable, some of which might otherwise have been carried out to sea. In the course of forty years, timber, estimated to contain 250,000,000 cubic feet, and popularly known as “the raft of Atchefayala,” was accumulated on the Missis- sippi delta, which now has an area of over 14,000 square miles. It will be interesting, as illustrating the action of the sea on the coast, if, limiting ourselves to historic times, some of the more remarkable encroachments in Europe of which there are authentic records are noted. In the ninth century considerable changes were effected on the coast of Brittany: valleys were inundated, and seaside villages destroyed. In 1100 a large tract of fertile land on the coast of Rent was inundated, forming the well-known Goodwin sands. In the thirteenth and four- teenth centuries there were very destructive irruptions of the Baltic on the coast of Pome- rania. About 1280, about fifty market-towns and villages were engulfed near the mouth of the Ems, between Groningen and East Fries- land. Nearly at the same time the isthmus which united Holland with Friesland was swept away, and the great inland lake (recently Teclaimed), the Zuider Zee, formed. In 1303 a great part of Rugen and many villages on the coast of Pomerania were engulfed. In 1421 a district named Bergesweld, in Holland, containing twenty-two villages, was covered by the sea, which formed the large sheet of water the Bies-bosch, extending from Gertrui- denberg to the isle of Dordrecht. In 1634 the sea swept away nine-tenths of the island of Nordstrand, off the south-west coast of the duchy of Schleswig; 6,400 persons and more than 50,000 head of cattle perished. We are all familiar with the fact that the greater part of Holland is preserved from destruction only by the maintenance of massive dykes and embankments, which are sometimes broken away, with terrible results—as in 1530, when 400,000 lives were lost ; and on the English coasts, especially on the eastern side of the island, many villages have been submerged, and places which two or three centuries ago were Several miles inland, are now close to the Sea. In many places the softer Tocks have been washed away, leaving pillars and irregularly- - - - - Shaped fragments; caves have ***** been scooped out by the action of the waves, and the lower portions of chalk cliffs having been washed away, in the course of time the overhanging upper parts fell in fragmentary masses, forming what is known in the Isle of Wight and other places as the “undercliff,” which resists the further action of the Sea, and in course of ages becomes covered . a thin Soil, so adding to the area of the &IlCl, 4. 㺠gºe: §§ - º º C ſéºY& 35 %iº 53 3. | |: jiàº, \ HISTORY. º ſºlºſ? - - IV. THE decadence of Ur was apparently hastened by the invasion of Elamites, a people of warlike disposition settled on the eastern - side of the Tigris. A chronological Plamite record prepared by Assurbanipal, VaSIOIl, an Assyrian king who reigned in the seventh century B.C., gives the date of 2280 B.C., as that of an invasion of Babylonia by Kudur-manhundi, an Elamite prince, but the date is uncertain, and other inscriptions mention irruptions in the country by Elamite chiefs bearing the same, or a very similar name. For a short time the city of Erich became the seat of supreme power, perhaps with Elamite rulers, of whom several are mentioned—among them Kudur-lagamar, who is evidently identical with the “Chedorlaomer, king of Elam,” who with “Amraphel, king of Shinar (the Amurpel of the inscriptions), and “Arioch, king of Ellasar,” made war against the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah and other kings who had been his viceroys or vassals, as recorded in Genesis xiv. The Supremacy of Erich was of short dura- tion, and a new dynasty was established at Karrak, to which the former pow- ... erful kingdoms of Ur and Érich Kingdom of became subordinate. The king- Earrak. dom of Karrak lasted for about three hundred years, and the names of four of the monarchs are preserved in the inscriptions—Gamil-Adar (or Gamal-Ninip), Libit-nana, Ismi-Dagon, and bis son Gungunnuv. In its turn Karrak appears to have given way to another kingdom, that of Larsa. It is possible indeed that the two states ... were partly contemporaneous, for ** of those were certainly turbulent &TS8.s times, and most kingdoms rose and fell or became alternately subordinate, and the re- cords are too fragmentary to enable the modern investigator to ascertain with any near ap- proach to precision the chronological se- quence of events. Four kings of LaTsa are mentioned in the inscriptions, but there are blanks in the list which might have been filled by the names of each of the four others. The names recorded are those of Nur-Rimmon (“Rimmon " was another name of Vul, god of the air), Gasin, Sin-Idina (“Sin” was one of the forms of the name of the moon-god ; other forms, “Agu’’ and “Aku, " being found in the name of the first king mentioned), and Risa- Agu, or Eni-Acu. The last-named monarch was the son of Kudur-Mabuk, the last king of the Elamite dynasty, whose father, Simti-Silkak, appears to have added Larsa to his deminions. Rudur-mabuk obtained possession of the cities of Nipur and Esidu, and gave them to his son Rim-Agu, who assumed the title of King of Larsa. The ambitious father, who seems to have been a bold and unscrupulous Yiğ2 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. à- warrior, then, with his son, conquered the northern part of Babylon, subduing a queen whose name appears as Ku-gala, or Durgala. The conquests were then extended westwards, and the title of “lord of Syria " was assumed by Kudur-Mabuk, but it is very uncertain what territory was described under that name. For about thirty years the father and son ruled over these exten- sive dominions, and were almost as distinguished for the public works they carried out, as for military achievements. They repaired many of the great temples and built others, fortified towns, and constructed canals. The inscriptions, architectural remains, cylindrical seals, and other memorials of their reign, which have been preserved, prove the existence of considerable artistic skill. The reign of Rim-Agu ended with the conquest of the whole country by Rhammuragas, or Hammurabi, of whom more bereafter. As yet we have mentioned only the cities and kingdoms in the south part of the Euphrates valley. The country north of Nipur was pro- bably the Akkad, or Agané of the inscrip- tions. The chief cities were ...Babylon, or Bab-ilī, “the gate of the gods,” Ca-demirra in the old Turanian tongue; Borsippa, to the south-west; Akkad the capital, before Ba- bylon rose into im- portance; Kisu and Hao')'iskalama, united cities, near Babylon, and Cutha, farther east. Six monarchs are mentioned, but their dates and succes- sion have not been discovered. The last was Ellat-Gulu, a queen, who was, per- . haps, identical with the queen Ku-gala mentioned above as having been subdued by Kudur-mabuk and his son. It is almost certain that the king- dom of Agame came to an end nearly at the same time as that of Larsa, about 1700 B.C., when the successful Hammurabi became master of the entire country. The art of cuneiform writing appears to have been nearly perfected in that part of the country, and we are enabled to ascertain some of the leading events of its history with a considerable approach to accuracy. wº-------- § º # f : º i i º ; | º ſ ſ - THE BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN EMPIRES. It is advisable, at this point, to recur to the Biblical narrative, and point out some analogies º ASSYRIAN LION WRIGIIT. BABYLONIAN CYLINDERS, REPRESENTING ToweR I3 UILD IN G AND SACRED TRIEE. between it and the legends relating to the myth- ical period of Babylonian history brought to light by recent re. The Pºlhubar search. The tenth chapter of *g. * Genesis (a genealogical chapter of IIIll’OCl, great value) mentions Nimrod as the son of Cush, one of the sons of Ham, and consequently fourth in descent from Noah. He is described with great emphasis as “a mighty hunter before the Lord. . . . And the be- gimming of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar.” Shinar, it may be noted, Was One of the Hebrew names applied, as Chal- dea was, to the whole region we are treating Of ; and the mention of Erech would seem to - imply that Nimrod's power in those remote times extended con- siderably farther south than Babylon. The few words of description quoted realize with striking effect the figure of a chief of great phy- sical power and enterprise, who distinguished himself as a hunter of beasts, and achieved Supremacy among half-savage and scattered tribes by his superior prowess and enter- §s: m prise—a true man of the material of which in primitive times kings were made, subduing weaker rivals, and es- tablishing strongholds, or cities, as they are generally styled. Mr. George Smith dis- covered among the mythical legends in- scribed on clay tablets, One referring to the adventures of Izdhu- bar, whom he supposes to have been identical with Nimrod, who de- livered the city of * Erechfrom a predatory warrior who had at- tacked it, conquered the queen, Ishtar, and held the place in sub- jection for three years. Out of gratitude Ishtar, famous for her beauty and licentiousness, offered to marry her deliverer. The legend describes her as having been previously the con- sort of Dum-uzi, Tamzi, or Tammuz, the Adonis of the later mythologies, whose death was so elaborately and licentiously celebrated by the Phoenicians, and mourned, as the pro- phet Ezekiel tells us, by some of the Israel- itish women who “at the gate of the Lord's house sat weeping for Tammuz.” Milton refers to the river Adonis, which flows Tapidly from the slope of Lebanon to the sea, in a cavern near which Tammuz, or Adonis, was supposed to have been killed – Ishtar and Tammuz. A WCIEWT HISTORY. 133 “Smooth Adonis from thy native rock Ran purple to the sea, suffused with blood Of Tammuz yearly wounded.” We mention this incidentally as an illustra- tion of the connexion between Babylonian and later mythologies, respecting which we shall have more to say when sketching the histories of Egypt, Phoenicia, and Greece. Izdhubar rejected the marital offer of Queen Ishtar, pre- ferring, it would seem, to annex her dominions. He made a triumphal entry into Erech, where it is averred in the legend he met with Hasisa- dra (the Biblical Noah), who related to him the story of the Flood, the tablets recording which are now in the British Museum, have been translated, and corroborate in a remarkable manner the narrative in the book of Genesis. Recurring to the fragmentary history revealed by the inscriptions, in which, as in all histories of primitive nations in remote times, there is a large admixture of myth, one king of Agané, or Upper Babylonia, Sargon, appears as a conspicuous figure. (The Scriptural Sar- gon, “king of Assyria,” referred to by Isaiah and in the Second Book of Kings, the father of Sen- nacherib, lived at least a thousand years later.) In the legendary biography of the great king there is this resem- blance to the story of Moses, that he was placed by his mother in an “ark,” or float- ing cradle made of rushes, covered with bitumen, and left to the mercy of the current of the river Euphrates. He was not, like Moses, found and adopted by a princess, but the stream carried him to the hut of Akki, a fisherman or water-carrier, who trained him to labour. In due time the youth was discovered to be the true heir to the throne, and, in what manner is not recorded, obtained the rightful position, and assumed the name of “Sargon, the rightful king.” The inscriptions which relate so much of his story are probably of much later date ; but other inscriptions seem to be contemporaneous, or nearly so, and may be taken as authentic. He was a warlike and enterprising monarch, defeated the Elam- ites who threatened his dominions on the eastern side. He attacked the Hittites, or Syrians (the “ Khatti” of the inscriptions), whom he subdued, and soon afterwards became the dominant Sovereign of the whole of Babylonia. By a series of victories he extended his do. minions to the shores of the Mediterranean. Internal dissensions for a time interfered with his course of prosperity. His own subjects, perhaps labouring under heavy burdens imposed by his many warlike expeditions, The reign of Sargon, FRAGMENTS OF THE FLOOD TABLETS IN THE BRITISE MUSEUM. revolted, and even besieged him in his capital, Agané ; but the king made a sortie, and effectu- ally routed the insurgents. He then recom- menced his career of conquest, invaded the highlands of Mesopotamia, ravaged the country, destroyed the towns, and returned to his capital laden with the spoils of victory. As a civil ruler he appears to have been as energetic as in his warlike character. He rebuilt the city of Agané, or Akkad, established there a great library (the books being clay tablets and cylinders, on which were imprinted the cunei- form characters of exquisite regularity and beauty), famous for works on astrology and astronomy, especially the book known as the “Illumination of Bel,” which Berosus translated into Greek, and copies of which were after- wards made for the royal libraries of Assyria. He reigned for about forty-five years, and ex- tended his kingdom by reducing the princes of adjacent lands to a tributary state, from the JPersian Gulf to the Mediterranean. As with other great conquerors, Alexander, Charlemagne, and Napoleon, the empire he had constructed fell to pieces shortly after his death : tributary princes revolted, and, al- though his son and successor Naram-Sin in- herited some of his father's energy and ability, and even extended his conquests proba- bly to the penin- sula of Sinai, be- sides completing some of the tem- ples left unfin- ished, he was, with ZºS { § -- **** & 4 the exception of the queen Ellat-Gulu, respect- ing whom nothing certain is known, the last independent monarch of Agané, or Upper Babylon. Another prominent figure now (about 1700 B.C.) appears upon the scene—Kham- muragas (“the Begetter’’), OT * as it is * on The Conquest of some of the laterinscriptions. He. appears to have been a prince of the Kassa, or Elamite people, and the dynasty he founded in Babylonia is recognized as the Rassite line, which, it is thought, may have been identical with the Arabian dynasty men- tioned by Berosus. He appears to have con- quered the Babylonian kingdom, and then to have extended his arms southward and overrun the kingdom of Larsa. It is probable that some of the minor princes subdued by Sargon accepted his aid to shake off the yoke, but only, as it proved, to be compelled to submit to another. The new king, supreme Over all the territory from the northern Mesopotamian hills to the Persian Gulf, fixed his capital at Baby- lon, and erected many temples and constructed other important works, especially canals, and 134 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. an embankment built along the banks of the Tigris, to prevent the injury done to cities by inundations. He restored the great temple, Mite-urris, or Mite-tassak (as it is read by some decipherers), at Kisa, on the east of Babylon, now repre- sented by the mounds of Hymer: rebuilt other temples, and built the city of Kara-samas, on the Tigris. Of Babylon, the capital, as it existed in his time, very few traces remain ; the later and more famous city was at the summit of its grandeur many centuries later, and will be described when we are dealing with the annals of the Seventh century before the Christian era. The reign of Khammuragas lasted for eleven or twelve years, and he was succeeded by Samsu-iluna (“the sun is our god”), probably his son, of whose achieve- ments, beyond the construction of a great canal, the restoration of decayed cities, and the dedication of images overlaid with gold to the patron divinities of the country, little is recorded. Subsequent monarchs are named, but for several centuries the history is a blank. W. THE DECLENSIONS OF NOUNS IN LATIN. WE now come to the declension of the Latin nouns—that is, the various forms of the case endings which Latin nouns assume according to their various Senses. There are five classes of declension, distinguished from each other by the endings of the genitive case singular: for example, a noun of the first declension has its genitive case ending in ce (pronounced like ee), as the noun musa, a song, is said to belong to the first declension, because it makes its geni- tive case singular to end in a, which is substi- tuted for the nominative ending in a, so ..?nºtsa, nominative case, becomes in the genitive case musa. The second declension makes its genitive case to end in 7—i.e., it changes the last syllable of the nominative into 7, as dominus, a lord, is said to belong to the second declen- Sion, because it changes the case ending of the nominative us in dominus into i, as domini. The third declension makes its genitive case singular to end in is ; the fourth declension makes its genitive case singular to end in is ; and the fifth makes its genitive case to end in e? (to be pronounced as two distinct syllables in this way, e-i, not as one syllable). Observe care- fully these rules in all declensions: that many of the neuter nouns have the nominative, voca- tive and accusative cases alike in each number, but in the plural these cases always end in Č, and in the singular generally in aim ; that in all declensions the dative and ablative cases in the plural are alike. The vocative is the same as the nominative case, except in the singular number of nouns in the second declension, that end in us in the nominative, and make the vocative in e—as dominus, a lord; vocative, Domine, O Lord. THE FIRST DECLENSION. The nominative singular of nouns of the first declension ends in Čá, which are feminine, except when they denote males, as scriba, a Scribe. Singular. N. musa. a SOng W. musa. O Song A. musam a Song G. musae of a Song D. musae to or for a song A. musá by Or with a song Plug'al. N. musae SOngs W. musae O Songs A. musas Songs G. musarum of songs D. musis to or for songs A. musis by or with songs Greek substantives, ending in e, as, es, when used in Latin are thus declined:— Jºeminime. N. epitome an abridgment W. epitome O abridgment A. epitomen an abridgment G. epitomes of an abridgment D. epitomaº to an abridgment A. epitomě by an abridgment Ilſasculine. N. HEneas (proper name). W. Hºmea, O AEneas A. Enean (or am) an AEneas G. Eneas of AEneas D. Enea to or for Æneas A. Enea by Æneas Masculine. N. Anchises (proper name) W. Anchisé (ä, ä) O Anchises A. Anchisén (am) Anchises G. Anchisae of Anchises D. Anchisae to Anchises A. Anchisé (ā) by Anchises The dative and ablative plural of some feminine words of the first declension end in abus—as deabus, from dea, a goddess, filiabus, from filia, a daughter—to distinguish them from the corresponding masculine forms of the second declension, as Deis (or Dís), dative plural of Deus, a god, filiis, dative plural of filius, a Son. The following words (to be learned by heart) are declined like musa :- - Iſasta, f. a spear Aura, f. a breeze Vita, j. lifo Aquila, f. an eagle Flamma, f. a flame Luna, f. the moon Aqua, f. Water Unda, f. 2, Wave Mensa, f. a table Stella, f. a star Puella, f. a girl Lingua, f. the tongue Observe—m. stands for masculine, f. for feminine, and n. for neuter. Questions for Self-Earamination and Eazercises. What do you mean by the declension of Latin nouns? How many declensions are there? How are they distinguished from each Other ? If a Latin noun ends in i, or if in ei in the genitive singular, to what declension do you refer it in each case ? What kind of nouns make three cases alike 7 and what cases are these ? What cases in the plural are always alike ' What two cases in the singular are most generally alike ' What two ways are there of determining the gender of a noun of the first declension ? To what gender do words of the first declension generally belong 7 and with what exception ? Give some examples. Decline 'musa in the singular and plural. Decline the Greek nouns epitome, Amchises' and Aºneas. When do nouns of the first declension make the dative and ablative plural to end in abus instead of the regular is 2 and give examples. Write out the vocabulary of words to be declined like nusa, with the English of all their cases. Translate into English :— Musarum, musis, musã, epitomen, scribam, deabus, AEneå, Anchisen, filiabus, hastis, aquarum, aurae, vitam, aquilae, mensã, puellis, linguarum, lunam, flammae, hujus musae, his musis, huic scribae, his deabus, hanc AEneam, hoc Anchise, hāc hastā, hujus aquae, his vitis, hanc puellam, hanc flammam, his linguis, huic puellae. O musa, O flammae, mensa puellae, linguæ puellarum, aura vitae, de häc vità, ante hanc auram vitae, propter hanc flammam, coram has flammas scribae. In häc mensã hujus puellae. In has flammas harum musarum. Ante has flammas hujus lunae. Hanc vitam aquilae. Penes hanc puellam. Circiter has mensas musarum. De his vitis harum puellarum. De his hastis harum musarum. Penes hunc AEneam. Translate into Latin :— To songs, by a song, for songs, to a spear, from a spear, for spears, the breeze (acc.), to breezes, to goddesses, for daughters, by an epitome, by the moon, to waters, of waves, the tongue of the girl, O stars, to flowers, with Spears, tongues (acc.), girl (acc.), O ABneas, by spears. On account of the song of this girl. These breezes of life. By these Spears of the muses. Around these flames of these stars. In the power of these girls. Through these flames of these daughters. According to these stars of these muses. On account of these breczes of this life. Into the flames of these Stars. In the power of these eagles. Towards this moon. Beneath these waters. Above this life. Upon this tongue of this girl. Through these flames. Beneath this moon. Above these Waters of the muses. O stars above this moon V. THE internal structure of the stom of an exogenous plant—say, in general terms, of any shrub or tree which has branches, and which likewise has the leaves Internal struc- ture of the filled with a network of véins— stem. is remarkably curious and inter- esting. To understand it, take first a young summer shoot of the common Elder, or a stalk of the Jerusalem artichoke, and with a sharp knife cut it transversely, so as to obtain a cross or horizontal section. Cut another portion lengthwise, as nearly as possible down the middle. The interior is found to contain a quantity of light and colourless cellular tissue, constituting the “pith.” Encircling the pith there is a thin layer of fibrous matter; and outside of all there is skin or cuticle. This triple composition exists in every portion of the stem and branches of the exogenous fabric, extending to the remotest and slenderest twig; but as the plant advances in age, in the older or earliest produced parts the pith gradually disappears, and in a stem or branch of many years' growth, when thesections are taken, in the horizontal one there is only a central dot, and in the longitudinal one only a narrow streak of dried-up tissue. But how wonderful am accre- tion of new substance l Instead of a thin and simple layer of fibre around the axis of growth, now there is wood ; and where at first there was only a delicate green cuticle, now there is bark. Of course this change is not to be looked for in annual stems, such as those of the Arti- choke ; it is best declared, indeed, in such as are not remarkable in their youth for copious pith. Ordinarily, the horizontal section of a stem or branch of several years' growth, when smoothened, and most particularly when po- lished, presents the appearance represented in fig. 24, though the markings are by no means so mathematically exact. The cut is designed to show the theoretically perfect structure, supposing everything were developed with the utmost regularity and uniformity. Now and them, in actual nature, there is a fair approxi- mation to it; but, accomplished as our great instructress, maternal nature, is as a mathema- tician, in the stems of trees, at all events, we must not look either for the accuracy of the compasses, or for absolutely straight lines. It is to the human eye that we turn for the sweet perfection of the circle; and to spars and crys- tals for the consummate geometry that shows so exquisitely what may be accomplished by simple unswerving movement from point to point. The spot in the centre of the diagram (fig. 24) indicates the locality of the pith, and of such remains of it as may endure. The concentric rings indicate encircling layers or cylinders of wood; and the dark boundary stands for the bark. A vertical section, fig. 23, shows perpendicular linesexactly corresponding with the circles. The concentric layers of wood 136 THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR. are understood to be a register of the annual increase, a new layer being deposited during the progress of every summer and autumn, or contemporaneously in deciduous plants, with the existence and energetic action of the leaves. As a rule, no doubt this is the fact ; but there are several curious exceptions to the assumed intimate agreement of the number of rings with the number of years the stem or branch has been growing ; so that, although in most cases the age may be considered to be faithfully recorded by these pretty circles, the law must not be declared absolute and unimpeachable. Beautiful ex- amples are supplied by the stem of the common larch-tree, the Robinia, the laburnum, and the yew. The more evenly the tree §§§ has been developed upon all jº sides, the more exact will be As- the regularity of the rings. If through any of the many ad- verse circumstances which inter- fere with regular wood-deposit, the layers on one side, though still continuous, are much thinner, then the axis, or pith-dot, becomes excentric, and in the horizontal section is found thrown nearly to the margin. This indeed is by far the most frequent con- dition. Observe, in the next place, the rays which proceed from the pith-dot to the cir- cumference. These indicate vertical planes of pith-cells, by means of which an organic com- munication is kept up between the inner and outer parts of the stem while still young. They are termed, on this account, the “medullary rays,” medulla being Latin for pith. Very good examples are supplied in the stems of the horn- beam and the lab u r n u m. Here the stu- dent may be earnestly re- Commended to COmmence forthwith the getting toge- ther of a little collection of w o O d - se c - tions, both horizontaland vertical. The lopped trees of the hedgerow and the forest, the cutting down of timber for economic use, the yards of the timber merchants, the raw material in the carpenter's and cabinet-maker's workshop—all may be looked to as supplying opportunities for obtaining valuable and very beautiful specimens, interesting not only be. cause of their instructiveness in regard to plant-structure, but as objects that in point of Tich diversity of colour and markings quite deserve to be compared with sea-shells, and to be classed with works of art as parlour orna- ments. Like sea-shells, also, they endure for ever. The day, perhaps, will come when they 5& Cº. º Yº: Sºğ sº | º; §§§ º: £º ſ FIG. 22.—SECTION OF AN END O- GISNO US STEM. will be accorded their rightful place alongside of porcelain, bronzes, and statuettes. When decrepit, large trees are often more or less hollow. By this time the whole of the living action of the trunk has become transferred to the portion immediately beneath the bark. Hence it is that the venerable monarchs of the forest are still able to clothe themselves, when the “time of the singing of birds” ap- proaches, with new foliage; and that, although a thousand years old, they never absolutely cease to flower and bear fruit. Charming is it to see the acorns, though only three or four, drop from the green boughs of an immemorial Oak—image, exact in all points, of the serene and generous en- thusiasm in good works which characterises the noble-hearted and God-fearing old man. The finest feature in a great history is found, not in the beginning, but in the finish. In the great division of flower- ing plants called the Endogens or Monocotyledons, the stem is formed differently. Instead of possess- | ing distinct pith, concentric cylin- ders of wood, and a separable bark, the sub- stance is in every part nearly similar, the woody matter being dispersed among the cellular, as represented in fig. 22. Practically, in England, we have little concern with this kind of stem, there being no endogenous trees in countries outside the tropics, excepting the inconsider- able Chamaerops, and very few endogenous shrubs. The only examples of ligneous endo- § § º º §§ § Endogenous stems, §:# §: Rººm: ń. li | l Hº, FIG. 23.-SECTION, IN PART, or AN Exogenous stEM. gems that can endure the open air in Britain are the Cha- maerops; cer- tain species of Ruscus, one of which, the Common But- chers' Broom, is accounted in digenous; and some of the singular plants fami- liar in good gardens under the name of Yucca. To acquire ideas Of what endo- genous trees are like, it is needful to visit the conservatory, where they are found in the shape of the Indian and Brazilian palms, with others from the warm islands of the South Pacific. Not that every specimen of palm in conservatory cultivation is a tree; far from it. No evergreens are more delightfully suitable for decorative purposes than palms while still in their childhood. Hence, while at their youngest, they are now a chief ingredient in every well-furnished greenhouse and hothouse; their perennial and arching plumes asserting calmly, at every season, after the manner of t || 4 || || | #|º]}} |# ºlº º: | i. | § |Hº Hº", it iſ AOTA NY. 137 the evergreen ferns, what men are, unhappily, slow to believe, the inexpressible superiority of graceful form and contour over mere vivid- ness of hue. Bright colour—almost always, in the very nature of things, transitory, and therefore seductive—the palms never affect. They are like the pure white marble goddesses that discourse to us of the faith of Homer, satisfying, in their unadorned queenliness, both eye and imagination. In lofty buildings, such as the palm-houses at Kew, Chatsworth, and Edinburgh, these illustrious plants attain considerable stature. . Even here, - however, they are never seen (ex- cept as regards the dwarfer kinds) full grown, the potential altitude of the tallest being ; greater than can be provided ſº for in any edifice of iron and # glass. Sections of palm-stems tº brought from foreign countries ### are extremely beautiful. They W. are occasionally procurable at the cabinet-makers', the wood being in some cases adapted for inlay- work. The stems of the smaller kinds of endogenous plants, such FIG. 24.—TRANsverse secTroN of EXO GENOUS wooD, THE GROWTH OF NIN E YEARS - as lilies, may very usefully be studied in section, if it be borne in mind that they are only what the summer elder-shoot is to the branch, thirty years old, of an elm or an ash. The best way to obtain practical acquaintance with endogenous stem- growth is to raise Some Indian corn upon a said, is that either in its own native and spontaneous productions, or in the adapted- ness of its climate—neither too hot nor too cold, for the culture of the instructive plants —we are Supplied with the grammar and lexicon of every description of serviceable knowledge. Not only is this true in regard to botany: as from the forum in ancient Rome streets struck away towards every part of the empire, so in Old England we may start pro- fitably for any destination we desire, in any department of science. There is not a country º in the world where geology and mineralogy may be better stu- died, or that is richer in fossils, or more abounding in all that is delightful to an ornithologist. Many of the ferns indigenous to the countries of the southern hemisphere elevate their majestic foli- age upon pillars so like the stems of palm-trees, that without scrutiny they would be Supposed identical in the inside. The stems of these “tree-ferns,” so called—plants very common in English greenhouses—are con- stituted, however, of little more than the bases of the huge leaf-stalks curiously knit together and consolidated; the great green tufted crown, as it slowly ascends, year by year, leaving behind it annually a few inches more of what may be likened to a growing spiral column. sº º- §: º Stems of tree- ferns. SEIG)WING: º \ In , }ll º º | § wº § § | | §, FIG. 25.-EXO GENOUS PLANT. The scars or stumps of the departed leaves are always vertical, whereas in Palms the scars are hotbed, transferring it to the open border when strong enough, and cutting down and dissecting a plant every fortnight. The grasses, to which family of plants the Indian corn belongs, ordinarily have hollow stems, as well exemplified in common straw. In the sugar- cane (another true grass) and in Indian corn, in curious exception, the stem is solid, and thus, so far as an annual stem can interpret an endogen, we are fortunately provided with a ready teacher, One of the grandest charac- teristics of Old England, as we have already always, or usually, horizontal. The ligneous matter deposited in these curious fern-pillars presents, in the cross-cut section, very cha- . racteristic curving patterns, foreshadowed in the familia) and very pretty design discover- able in the lowermost portion of the stalk of the common Bracken when cut slantwise, and compared sometimes to the outline of a sturdy oak, sometimes to the spread-eagle of Germany. T HE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. TLE:º Kºsºs Alſº g § §§ Šºć t; 3. §º ºš ºft-Tº: §§ º C- LISH GRAMMAR. ºf IV. TERMS EXPLAINED. HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE LANGUAGE. . “Dialect.” . “Vocabulary.” . “Philology.” . English a mixed tongue. . Why not a Romance language? . Ancient Britons. Keltic and Latin. . Settlements of the Jutes, Saxons and Angles. i; § 28. Dialect (Greek dialektos, a speaking |between).-A dialect is a local Specch which varies from that spoken by others of the same community; thus we have the Sussex and the Yorkshire dialects or varieties of English. When the word is employed, as it often is, to denote what we commonly understand as inde- pendent languages, it is intended to convey the sense that those languages are, or have been, varieties within one community. For example, Italian, French, Spanish, etc., are frequently spoken of as the “Romance dialects,” meaning thereby that they were all originally various forms of one speech, and had definite family features. On the same principle, each one of those languages, treated as a unit, may have dialects within itself; the French, for example, having Norman, Picard, and Burgundian. § 29. Vocabulary (Latin voco, I call ; Low Latin vocabularium).-A vocable is that spoken by the voice, a word; whence a vocabulary is a collection of words. It is used in a personal sense, as meaning the stock of words that a speaker has at his command in daily use ; he does not use all the words in the language, but his choice, conscious or unconscious, is affected and restricted by his life and pursuits. So also the members of a profession or of a given trade will have special words adapted to their needs. We can speak of the “vocabulary of American rural industry,” as well as of the “vocabulary of Milton,” or “of Shakespere,” or we may say of a friend that “he has not a large vocabulary” in conversation. This is the sense used in gram- mar. Besides this subjective meaning of the term, there is the objective one of a list of words with short explanations, a kind of dic- tionary, the difference being that a vocabulary is usually understood to bear the restricted Sense of a collection of words of a special or local character. Sometimes, too, it means a short dictionary for a special object, as the Latin vocabulary at the end of a boy's lesson-book. A vocabulary differs from a dialect in that it deals with words and terms Only; a dialect embraces words and syntax, or their relations to one another. § 30. Philology (Gr. philos, loying, logos, word).-This, though the name of a Science rather than a strictly grammatical term, comes so often under the notice of a student of language that what it implies should be considered. “Comparative philology” is some- times used as synonymous with “comparative grammar,” the study of languages by means of comparison and affinity. But, originally, Philology, the “love of words,” confined itself to the classical languages of Greece and Rome, concerning itself not only with the study of their grammar and rhetoric, but with the his- tory, poetry and literature of those countries; in short, it comprised a general knowledge of classics. In this sense it is still understood On the Continent : a professor of philology in Ger- many—although that country is the native home of the science of words on a broader basis—is still understood to be one who teaches the subjects lying within the Scope of Latin and Greek criticism. Even in America philo- logy is defined as “the science of the culture of a given racial or historical division of mankind.” (Ripley and Dana's American Encyclopædia.) The term is, however, in this country gene- Tally taken in a larger sense. The Philological Society, on its foundation in 1842, laid down, as the first object proposed for its attention, “the investigation of the structure, the affinities, and the history of languages,” to which “the illustration of the classical writers of Greece and Rome'' was indeed added, but has always remained subordinate. Owing, in great part, to the labours of this Society and their friends, Philology now stands for the science of lan- guages in general ; inquiries into the history, derivation, and details of any language, its life and changes, come within its ken ; but it leaves to other lines the care for literature, history, and the rest. The range of such a science is indeed wide enough, but it thus pos- sesses a unity wanting to it before. IIistorical Sketch of the English Language. § 31. Our language we call English, without too much troubling ourselves as to what that word means ; we use a variety of vocables, longer and shorter, to express the infinitude of shades of meaning, without a question arising that we may be passing the currency of some other tongue. Yet we are great debtors to other languages, particularly to Latin and French ; and if we use their words without re- cognizing that they are foreigners. it is because they have become naturalized and have put on in some sort an English dress. They remain none the less foreigners in their origin, and in the history of English it becomes highly im- portant to take count of the fact from the outset. Not only have we borrowed words, but parts of words—that is, our word-formation has been largely affected by the use of the Romance languages. The proportion in which these elements enter into our language has been stated somewhat differently. Archbp. Trench roughly estimates the Latin, French, and Greek at thirty-five out of a hundred parts, giving five parts to the various other lan- guages; while Dr. Morris has it that “words of classical origin are calculated to be about twice as numerous as pure English words.” The exact proportion is difficult to fix: as it differs acording to the bases on which the cal- ENGLISLI GRAMMAR. 139 culations are made, this does not here signify; we get sight of the main fact that English of the present day is a mixed language, depend- ing solely upon strangers for its vocabulary. No less than eighteen languages, perhaps more, have contributed of their store to our wealth of words, but of this outside element by far the greater share has come to us from the Latin and French. § 32. In the last chapter it was pointed out that English belongs to the Teutonic family of languages, and more particularly that it finds its brothers among the Low-German group of that family. But, it may be asked, If there is so large an infusion of the French and Latin element, why is not English said to belong to the Romance family, in which those two find their relations ! I will endeavour to answer this question,--first, by an outline of the history of the language; secondly, by a short examination of the use which we make of its constituent parts. § 33. The story of the English language is really the story of the English people. Looking back into the history of our island, we recall that it was peopled, when we have first any certain knowledge of it, by a Keltic race—the ancient Britons; that they were conquered by the Romans, whose occupation lasted here nearly four hundred years. The Britons gradu- ally adopted the dress and modes of life of their masters: they spoke Latin, towns were built, Toads made, and Roman civilization was brought into this distant Province of the empire; the people were christianized, and a flourish- ing British or Roman-British Church became established. But the foundations of the English language were not yet begun in Britain, and of all this long British and Roman period (about five hundred years) only a small number of word-relics tell us of the languages spoken in this island before the arrival of our forefathers. The principal of these are— Latin castra, a camp; colonia, a colony ; portus, a port ; and strata, a street. The first passed into ceastre among the old English, and we find it still in the names of fortified places, such as Chester, Manchester, Doncaster, Lan- caster, etc.; the second is found in Lincoln; the third in Portsmouth ; the fourth became stract, our street, and is found in Stratton, Stratford, etc. Reltic (found in writings of ninth to twelfth centuries): brock (a badger), bad','ov (a mound), breeches, clout, cradle, crock, Crook, glom, kiln, mattock. Many of the names of places, too, are Keltic, particularly those of rivers and mountains. “The river-names,” says the Rev. Isaac Taylor, “more especially the names of important rivers, are everywhere the memorials of the very earliest races; they seem to possess an almost indestructible vitality. . . . For anti- quity and immutability the names of mountains and hills come next in value to the names of rivers.” The Avon, the Esk, the Axe, the Calder, the Don, for rivers; Pendleton, Pens- hurst, Pentland hills, Ben Nevis, Dundee, Dun- mow, Dunstable, the Tors of Devonshire and of Derbyshire, for hills and hill-fortresses, are a few out of a multitude ; while Ilfracombe, Combe Martin, and others, illustrate the old English form of the Keltic enºm, a valley, which is found in nearly its original form in the verse of the Cumberland poet Anderson, who sings— “There's Cum whitton, Cum whinton, Cumranton, Cumrangan, Cumrew, and Cumcatch, And mony Imair Cºms i' the county, But, nim wit Cumdiyock can match.” § 34. In the middle of the fifth century in- vading tribes began to come over from the low- lying lands of the Continent near the mouth of the Elbe, Friesland, and Sleswick; the Roman power being weakened, they gradually obtained. a footing in this country and made permanent settlements. It is thought that in the third century Teutonic tribes had occasionally made piratical descents on some of the coasts, but they do not appear to have then established themselves here. Three tribes—the Jutes, the Angles, and the Saxons—made successive in- vasions, and in the course of about a hundred years they conquered the larger part of Britain. They drove the ancient Keltic inhabitants into the west side of the island, into Wales, West- moreland, and Lancashire, and into Cornwall and Devon, calling them Welsh or foreigners, because they did not understand their speech : their descendants in Wales speak their own. language to this day ; the Cornish tongue died out about the middle of last century, and is no longer spoken. Northwards, the victorious Angles pushed their settlements to the Firth of Forth, the Picts and the Scots retired be- fore them to the Highlands of Scotland, where the descendants of those Keltic tribes still speak the Gaelic (or Gaedelic, with a mute d) tongue. These conquering tribes were our forefathers; they brought their language—which is our lan- guage—into the island from their old home; some of them called themselves Englisc or English, and that part where the Angles set- tled they called Angla-land, whence the name England. The conquest made by them was very different to the conquest of the Britons by the Romans. The Britons seem to have lived peaceably under the yoke of their gover- nors, who were dwellers in towns, adopting their civilization and religion, but still remain- ing the prime Occupiers of the land. The Teutonic tribes were rough and strong ; they displaced, if they did not exterminate, the old dwellers whom they found here, having little in common with them ; and they brought their own laws and their own heathen religion. A curious antipathy between the Keltic and these northern Teutonic tribes operated to prevent the coalescing of the two peoples, such as took place in many other instances of invasion (e.g., the Romans in Gaul, or the Normans in Eng- land afterwards). They probably intermarried very little, and the Teutons disdained to learn much except geographical names from the language of those whom they deemed their inferiors. Thus it is that we have so few Keltic words, passed into the speech of the new- comers, surviving now. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. de Ocºexºcº º ;SSZºº -- Sº *º. Bºš Sºś º ſº - º & º º § º M zºº sº º TW. WITH the second copy of fig. 5 a new element is introduced, this being a simple oval with a heavy downstroke side. This element alone forms the letter o, and enters into the com- position of a, d, q, and g. The letters 0 and 6 are produced from the left hand side of this form, the first by the addition of a small crotchet and dot, and the latter by means of a loop on theright hand. This element and the curves beneath have much to do with the beauty of penmanship, which depends mainly upon the delineation of the curves. Some curves are aesthetically prefer- able to others, and even the uneducated eye is conscious of this fact, although not able to ex- plain it. Thus the Ogee and cyma recta, etc., of a very important factor in beautiful penman- ship, occurring as it does—or should do—in most of the capitals and many of the small letters. He says: “It is frequently made in- correctly by those who ought to know better. It can be divided into three parts £ 6 - « (see G, fig. 3, p. 112), which glide *.inº ºf into each other. The central part beauty. has the slant of the rest of the writing, and also contains the principal thickness; the upper and lower parts curve respectively to the right and the left. The proper adjustment of these three parts, in direction and thickness of line, is a matter for the nicest taste; the upper por: tion being a smaller part of a larger curve than the lower one ; and the thickness being some- what greater in the lowerthan in the upper half. Various other delicacies regarding this curve, with the Teasons for them, might be stated. . . . In fact, beauty of penman- ship depends upon a Variety of delicacies which cannot be stated in words, and which, Singly,are scarcely ap- preciable to the com- mon eye, though their the Greek architects are much more pleasing in contour than those of the Romans. This superiority is due to the fact that the latter are based upon circular forms, and the former upon those that are elliptical. Curves which partake of the elliptical character are more beau- tiful than those pro- duced from circles, and the former are almost invariably used by na- ture in the animal and —s vegetable kingdoms. The next elementary form is a right line, commencing Square, and tapering after it has passed the general line upon which the writing rests. It then forms a terminal loop and as- cends by a hair-line * = * * = FIG. 4.—ELEMENTARY FORMS. united effect would be universally acknow- ledged.” In arranging the forms of letters we may divide the Small ones into three general classes. The first consists of those letters which are ºf- - - - --- , - formed of a right line with either an upward Curve at the bottom Only, as i, u, ü, l, b, Or one at both ends, as nt, m, h, p, y, v, rv, 7. The second class con- sists of those formed of the Oval, or a portion thereof, only, or the Oval combined with a Tight line, as o, e, c ; a, d, q, g. The curved upstroke of b, v and my has the same outline as the right hand side of the o, which brings them to that degree under sº sºme sº sº gº. * * * sº. º sweep. This forms, with the addition of a dot above, the letter j. It also enters into the com- position of g and y, and forms the lower portion of the longs. Its inver- sion gives the upper portion of f and long s. This letter bears some resemblance to a portion of Hogarth's celebrated “ line of beauty,” and forms with the oval the picturesque element of writing. The line of beauty or double curve is, as was long since pointed out by Mr. Grant, FIG. 5.—ELEMENTARY FORMS. the second class. The third class embraces those whose anomalies exclude them from the Other two, as ac, s, f, 2. and k. The pupil will find the above analysis useful as he progresses. The consideration alike Of the elements and classification of the capitals may be judiciously deferred until the pupil is well grounded in the small letters, through the different gradations of sizes ex- hibited by the various hands. J'RENCH GRAMMAR. 141 The first step to be taken by the pupil is to rule his copybook or sheet of paper carefully Ruline in with lines of the same distance - ** apart as those at fig. 2, allowing an interval of a quarter of an inch between each set of double lines intended for a line of writing. He can then practise the simple right line shown at A, fig. 2. This should be persisted in until the line can be struck at one motion of the fingers only, the line being kept of equal breadth throughout, and beginning and ending square and distinct. No “patch- ing ” or “painting ” must on any account be resorted to, nor any motion of the arm to each Single stroke. If any difficulty be felt as to Securing the proper angle, it will be easy for the Scholar to rule some diagonal lines to assist him; but these should be dispensed with as early as practicable. It may seem that the dimensions of these strokes exceed any that will be required in actual work. Such is the case, and the reason for it is that practice on this large scale is invaluable in securing that Ønºſau.49 v// ºisºnſ. %ty FAMOUS AUToGRAPHs: GUIDO FAWREs, QUEEN ANNE, AND RICHARD III. freedom of hand which is especially to be de- siderated. When the pupil can succeed in writing a lime of these strokes * perfect in form and set at equal distances, he may proceed to the second copy (C, fig.2). This consists of an upward hair-stroke followed by a curve and right line. It will be well to rule a third horizontal line in this case as a guide to the commencement of the hair- line. Great care must at first be taken that the tapering-off of the right line at the curve is accomplished sn'eetly and without abruptness. The next copyslip is simply the reversal of the last, the hair-line occurring at the end of the form in place of at the beginning. This will present no difficulty to the student who has mastered the two immediately preceding forms. The oval shown at D, fig. 2, is produced by a series of double hooks similar to those shown. The persistent practice of these forms in the size given for Some time will form an excellent foundation. The same forms may then be practised in smaller size—say in lines about three-quarters of an inch asunder, as shown at figs, 4 and 5, with addition of the oval. In our next paper we will enter upon the considera- tion of the various “hands.” THE ARTICLE (continued).—THEORY. 1. It has been shown (Lesson III., p. 74) that when the noun is taken in a partitive sense— that is, when it expresses a part of a whole, as, I have bread, thou has: nuts (which mean I have a portion of all the bread that is made, thou hast a quantity of all the nuts that gron)—it is preceded, agreeably to its gender and number, by du, de la, de l’Or des. There are three cases where the article is omitted, and the preposition de (or d' before a vowel or ſº mute) alone retained. These cases are : When as adjective precedes the partitive noun ; When an adverb of quantity precedes the partitive noun ; When the proposition is negative. We shall examine these three cases in turn. 2. When an adjective precedes the partitive noun de (or d"), is put before the adjective. The natural tendency of the French language is to place adjectives after nouns. The follow- ing, however, are generally placed before, and thus will offer an application of the rule;— beau, fine, handsome. bon, good, kind. cher, dear. grand, great, large. mauvais, bad. Imeilleur, better. moindre, lesser. petit, small, little. gros, big, stout. Saint, holy. Jeune, young. vieux, old. joli, pretty. Vilain, nasty. Examples. J'ai DU pain, I have bread; j'ai DE beau pain, I have fine bread. As-tu DE LA Viande 7 hast thou meat 2 as-tu DE bonne viande 7 hast thow good meat 2 Il a DE L'eau, he has mater ; il a D'excel- lente * eau, he has earcellent ovate)'. A-t-elle DES cerises 2 has she any cherries 2 a-t-elle de grosses cerises? has she big cherries 2 3. Note that if the adjective is placed after the partitive noun, the article must be retained along with the preposition : mous avons du ſpain bis, we have brown bread ; arez-vous de 7a, viande fraîche 2 have you any fresh meat 2 ils ont de l'eau claire, they have clear water ; ont-elles des cerises blanches 2 have they any white cherries? Distinguish also, from the very beginning, between these two construc- tions: achetez de jolie d'enfelle, and acheter de la jolie dentelle. The first merely implies that pretty lace should be bought, whereas the second points to the fact that more than one kind of lace could be obtained, and that some of the pretty lace is to be purchased. Other example : mangez-vous de bonnes pommes de terre P are you eating good potatoes' mange:- vous des bonnes pommes do ferre P are you eating some of the good potatoes” 4. When an adverb of quantity governs the * This shows the clasticity of the rule concerning the place of adjectives! R 42 THE UNTVERSAL TWSTR U7OTOR. noun, de is placed between the two terms. In such a position the adverb might be looked upon as an indefinite numeral adjective, re- quiring, unlike real adjectives, the prepo- sition de before the noun which it qualifies. Here is the list of those adverbs : AssEz, enough, never placed after the noun in French ; thus, emough mustard or mustard emough = assez DE moutarde ; assez DE clous de girofle, cloves emough. AUTANT, as much, as many : autant D'amour, as much love; autant D'ennemis que D'amis, as mamy.foes as friends. BEAUcoUP, much, mamy : beaucoup D'honneur, much honour; beaucoup D'honneurS, mamy honours ; beaucoup DE belles paroles, mamy pretty 8peeches. «COMBIEN, how much, how mamy : combien DE peine on a · à élever ses enfants ! how much trouble one has to bring up one's children ! combien D'enfants ont- ils ? how many children have they ? DAVANTAGE, more : davantage DE terme #) more time; davantage D'ennuis (Do.), more dis- gusts; davantage DE palmes (Do.), more palms. , This use of davantage is becoming obsolete. «GUÈRE, not much, not mamy, hardly any, is accompanied by the sign of the negative me : il N'a guère DE voix, he has mot much voice ;il N'y a guère DE gens tout à fait désintéressés, there are hardly amy quite unselfish people. MoINs, less, fewer : moins DE courage et moins DE succès, less courage and fewer successes. PEU, little, few : nous avons peu DE fortune, mais peu DE besoins, we have little wealth, but few avants. PLUs, more : plus DE bonheur que D'esprit, more luck than wit; plus DE coups que DE gros sous, more blows than penny pieces. qUE (in exclamations), how much, hou many : que D'esprit ! how clever ! que D'esprits, hou many minds ! For its force in comparisons cf. AUTANT and PLUS above. TANT, so much, so many : tant DE haine, so much hatred; tant DE revers, so mamy reverses. TRoP, too much, too many : trop D'amertume, too much bitterness : trop D'amandes, too many almonds. Although too, when used alone, is rendered by trop, as too kind = trop aimable, never translate too much by trop beaucoup; nor so much, how much, as much, by si beaucoup, comment beaucoup, aussi beaucoup ; say, tant, combien, autant. Trop peu, too little, too few, however, is correct. 5. Note that after BIEN, much, many, the article is retained along with the preposition : bien DE L'argent, much money ; bien DEs richesses, much wealth. (Yet we should say bien D'autres, many others, bien DR riches campagne8, mamy rich fields ; this is due to the presence of the adjectives autres and riches, in accord- ance With Rule 2.) Mark well also how the article is re-introduced when the substantive governed by the adverb of quantity is no longer partitive but definite. Partitivesense : je n'ai plus guère D'amis, I have scarcely any more friends ; definite sense : je n'ai plus guère DEs amis que vous m'avez commu, I have scarcely any more of the friends whom you have known me pos- sessed Of. 6. When the proposition is negative, the article disappears before the partitive noun, and de (or d') alone is retained : Jean a DU pain, John has bread ; Jean n'a pas DE pain, John has mo bread. Jeanne a DE LA viande, Jane has meat ; Jeanne n'a pas DE viande, Jane has no meat. Ils ont DE L'eau, they have n'ater ; n'ont-ils pas D'eau ? have they no mater ? Ont-elles DEs cerises ? have they charries ? elles n'ont pas DE cerises, they have no cherries. 7. Note that if partitive nouns in negative proposi- tions are followed by some adjective proposition- any word in fact which completes their meaning-they ré- take the article. So, je me vous ferai point de reproches, I shall make you no reproaches : but, je me vous ferai pas des reproches frivoles, I shall not make any frivolous reproaches to you ; ttt m'a8 pas d'argent, thou hast no money, but, tu m'as pas de l'argent pour le dépen8er Jfollement, thou hast not money to spend it foolishly ; il me fait pas de vers, he writes no poetry, but, il ne fait † # vers quand il veut, he does not write poetry when G C DOOS6S. Practical Application. (1) VOCABULARY III. Denrées Alimentaires et autres (Provisions and Commodities). Chez le boucher on trouve (At the butcher's one finds): de la viande, meat de l'agneau, lamb du bœuf, beef du mouton, mutton du pOrc, pork du veau, veal du lard, bacon du saindoux, lard du foie, liver des côtelettes, cutlets, chops des rognons, kidneys des tripes or du gras double, tripe. Le boulanger vend (The baker sells): du pain blanc, mwhite bread du pain bis, bronvn bread du pain noir, black bread du pain rassis, stale bread du pain tendre, men bread des petits pains,* rolls de la farine, flour du gruau, meal des biscuits, biscuits de la galette, muffins# des gâteaux, cakes de la levure, yeast. J'achète chez le laitier (I buy at the dairy- man's): du lait, milk du lait de beurre, buttermilk du petit-lait, n'hey du lait caillé, curdled milk de la crême, cream du beurre frais, fresh butter du beurre mi-sel, pom'dered do. du beurre salé, salt do. des œufs, eggs des fromages à la crême, cream cheeses. L'épicier tient (The grocer keeps): du café, coffee du chocolat, chocolate du thé, tea du poivre, pepper du sel, Salt de la moutarde, mustard de l'huile, oil du vinaigre, vinegar du pétrole, petroleum des bougies, ºvaa candles des chandelles, candles des allumettes, matches. (2) VERB CONJUGATED NEGATIVELY. Je ne suis pas, I am mot tu n'es pas, thou art not il n'est pas, he is not * De petit pains would mean small loaves : thi © Will be explained in the syntax. ves : this point f Galette proporly means any kind of flat cake. FRENCH GRAMMA R. Jean n'est pas, John is not nous ne sommes pas, n'e are mot vous n'êtes pas, you are mot ils ne sont pas, they are mot Jean et Jeanne ne sont pas, John and Jane [are not. Je n'ai pas, I have mot tu n'as pas, thou hast not il n'a pas, he has mot Jeanne n'a pas, Jane has mot nous n'avons pas, mve have not vous n'avez pas, you have mot ils n'ont pas, they have not Jean et Jeanne n'ont pas, John and Jane have mot. N.B.—All other verbs are treated similarly : Chez le boucher on NE trouve PAs, at the butcher's one does not find ; Le boulanger NE vend PAS, the baker does not sell ; Je N'achète PAS chez le laitier, I do not buy at the dairyman's ; L'épicier NE tient POINT, the grocer does not keep. Points to be Observed. a. It seems at first sight as if the negative in French were double ; this is not the case,—pas merely emphasises the real negative ne. Pas, from the Latin passus, a step, is therefore, in its origin, no more a negative than the words point, mie, goutte, brin, which are similarly used. (It is only by ellipsis that we say pas possible,.point d'aveu, etc.) b. Observe the construction of the proposition with reference to the article when passing from the affirmative to the negative : Affirmative. Definite # 'ai le gâteau S8'/?S62, j'ai les gâteaux j'ai un gâteau j'ai deux gâteaux Partitive ſ j'ai du gâteau &627?S(2, # des gâteaux Vegative. Je n'ai pas le gâteau je n'ai pas les gâteaux je n'ai pas de gâteau je n'ai pas deux gâteaux je n'ai pas de gâteau je n'ai pas de gâteaux. (3) Qui, mvho de si, such ainsi que, as 7vell as toujours, almvays jamais, ever y ? c'est, it is encore, still ni...ni, neither...nor Monsieur, Mr., sir Madame, Mrs., madam EXERCISE VII. Translate into English : , l. L'oncle de la bouchère est un épicier ;il a beaucoup d'épiceries dans sa (his) boutique. 2. Que de farine le meunier de ma tante a ! 3. La laitière a-t-elle des fromages à la crême ? 4. Elle n'a pas de fromages, mais elle a d'ex- cellent beurre, du beurre frais et du beurre mi-sel. 5. Etes-vous le neveu de la fruitière qui tient tant de fruits et de légumes à la halle ? | | 143 6. Elle n'est pas ma tante ; c'est la meunière qui est ma tante. 7. L'épicière de mon parrain vend de meilleur chocolat et de meilleur thé que (than) vous. 8. Où trouve-t-on de si beau lard et de si beau saindoux ? chez le boucher de ma maTraine. 9. Vous êtes des enfants ; on ne vend pas de pétrole et d'allumettes aux enfants. 10. Avez-vous beaucoup de poivre, de sel, et de moutarde ? 11. Nous avons peu de poivre et beaucoup de sel, mais nous n'avons point de moutarde. 12. La nièce de la cuisinière a autant de bougies que (as) de chandelles ; mais elle n'a pas d'allumettes. 13. Jean a-t-il du pain blanc ou du pain bis ? 14. Il n'a ni pain blanc ni pain bis; il a du pain noir et du petit- lait. 15. La laitière vend des œufs et du beurre ; elle ne vend pas de chocolat. 16. On trouve le chocolat ainsi que le café, le thé, l'huile et le vinaigre chez l'épicier. 17. Ils ont de bon pain blanc, d'excellent beurre frais, et de gros œufs. 18. J'achète peu de lard, encore moins de saindoux, mais beaucoup de beurre. 19. Madame Durand, avez-vous des côtelettes de veau, des côtelettes de mouton, et des rognons d'agneau ? 20. Combien de chandelles as-tu ? Je n'ai guère de chandelles, mais j'ai beaucoup de bougies. EXERCISE VIII. Put into French :— I. I have vinegar ; thou hast oil; he has salt ; she has pepper. 2. John has good vine- gar ; Jane has excellent (excellente) oil ; the butcher has good salt; we have better pepper. 3. You have fresh butter ; they have stale bread ; Mr. and Mrs. Durand have rolls ; the fruiterer and the fruiterer's wife have powdered butter. 4. Have I more beef than Louisa ? Hast thou enough mutton ? Has he less pork than Paul ? Has Mr. Dupont as many cutlets as (que) Mrs. Durand ? 5. We have fewer eggs than the miller, but the miller hasfewer cream cheeses than We have. 6. You have no meat ; they have no beef; the relations have no bread ; the children have no cakes. 7. Jane is Inot the sister of a man who sells beef and mutton. 8. How much pork and bacon ? 9. Have you any lard, Mrs. Durand ? Yes, sir. 10. I buy veal cutlets (cutlets of veal, no article before veal) at Mrs. Dupont's, never at my cousin Jane's butcher's. ll. Paul keeps always more butter and eggs than the dairywoman. 12. Mr. Dupont, my father's baker, keeps no stale bread (ne tient pas de); his bread is always new. 13. Is meal flour ? (the meal is he some flour ?) Yes, it is (it is some flour). 14. The cook buys (achète) biscuits at the confectioner's. 15. My baker sells more rolls and cakes than bread and flour (of bread and of flour). 16. Who sells yeast ? Does the baker sell yeast ? (the baker sells he yeast ?) The baker does not sell any yeast. 17. Has the brewer any fresh butter and salt butter from my dairy- woman ? 18. He has neither (il n'a mi) fresh butter nor salt butter; he has eggs. 19. The child has too much (too much, one mvord) mus- tard and too little (too little, tnvo nvords) salt. 20. Have you vegetables enough ? Ihave vege- tables enough, but I have too few (too few, tno ºvords) fruits. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. IT remained to be ascertained how far the planets were from the sun. We have already seen how the early astronomers found out the distance - of the moon by determining its Piº : the parallaw, or apparent change in * position when it was seen from opposite sides of the diameter of the earth. FIG. 10.-AQUARIUS. They tried to ascertain the distance of the planets by the same method, but soon found that these latter did not appear to sensibly alter their places when thus observed. It was evident, therefore, that the planets were much more distant than the moon, and that it would require a much greater change of FIG. I.1.-CAPRICORN US. place than one diameter of the earth to see any change in the place of the planets. This change they found in the motion of the earth, as we shall see. Let fig. 18 represent the orbit of the earth and a portion of the orbit of the planet Jupiter. Let a, and b be the position of the earth on its orbit on two days, with an interval of two months between them; and on the first day let the position of Jupiter be marked by 2, so that on the second day Jupiter will have advanced in its orbit to 3. Now, as the stars are so distant that they always appear in the same direction, the stars if k in the direction 1 2 3 on the first day will seem in the direction 3 4 5 on the second day. Evidently, therefore, in- stead of the planet Jupiter seeming to move onwards from the star j to the star k, as it would do were the earth stationary at a, it will seem to move backwards to the star i. Jupiter, in fact, on the second day will seem to be behind its proper place by the distance between 3 and 5 (or 1 and 3), and by geometry this distance will be equal to the distance between FIG. 12.-ARIES. a and b, through which the earth has moved. Now, by geometry we know how far off this distance between a and b must be placed to make it look as large as the angle between 3 and 5, an angle in the case of Jupiter of about 13°, so that this distance will be the distance of the orbit of Jupiter from the orbit of the earth. It is just 4 times the length of the distance Fig. 13.--GEM.INI. between a and b, so that the distance of 4 from b (or of 2 from a] will be 4 times the distance of a from b. From geometry we learn that as the sun moves nearly 60° in two months, the distance between a and b must be nearly equal to the distance of the earth and sun, so that from the orbit of the earth to the orbit of Jupiter is nearly 4} times the distance of the earth from thesun, and the distance of the orbit of Jupiter ASTRONOMY. 145 from the sun must be a little less than 5% times the distance of the earth from the sun. In this manner astronomers were able to fix the distance of these three superior planets from the sun. They found them to be— Mars, 1:53 times that of the earth, or nearly 1%. Jupiter, 5:20 ,, ** +- 5}. Saturn, 9'54 ,, -- -> 9. We learn, therefore, that the position and - motion of the planets, as seen "...” from the earth, differ from what position of the they would be if seen from the planets, sun; the former are said to be their geocentric position, and the other their FIG. 14,-LEO. heliocentric position, and astronomers, in study- ing the motion of the planets, have to reduce their geocentric to their heliocentric position by means of trigonometry. It was not long before they learnt that the planets appear to move round the sun at times quicker than at others, just in the same way as the sun seems to move quicker in winter than in summer, because the earth so moves. They FIG. 15,-sagittarius. - were able to ascertain the exact part of the heavens where the planets moved fastest and that where they moved slowest, and they found that these places remained fixed, and did not alter as in the case of the moon. About the physical nature of the planets astronomers then knew nothing, but by analogy they supposed they were spherical bodies like the earth. - The planets Mercury and Venus were termed WOL. I. the inferior planets, because they lay between the earth and the sun, and were never seen very far from him, appearing at one time on the west of the sun and visible only at sunrise, and at others appearing on the east of - the sun ..". bºsºn solely at Interiorplanets. sunset. Occasionally, Venus became so bright that astronomers could see her in broad day- light, but this was not commonly the case. It was easy to determine the distances of these inferior planets from the sun, by merely seeing what was the greatest angular distance they appeared on either side of him, and by means of geometry they at once found out how far the planet must be from the sun to make it Fig. 16.-TAurus. appear at this angular distance. In this way they found that Venus was never more than 48° from the sun, and Mercury only 28°. Their distances were therefore— Mercury, or 14 times that of the earth, or nearly #. Venus, 0.73 , -- º -- r- whilst the time they took to revolve onceround the sun was— Mercury—87 days 23 hours 15 minutes. Venus—224 days 16 hours 49 minutes. FIG. 17.-VIRGo. Such, then, was the extent of the knowledge of astronomy which we might have gained at the beginning of the seventeenth century by study- ing the work which had been accomplished by our predecessors. All the more striking celestial phenomena had been explained, and a good deal had been learned about the distances and motions of the planets; it being remembered that, the telescope being unknown, all the 10 146 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. observations had to be made by the naked eye, so that distances in the heavens of less than 5' were very difficult to see or measure. Place a penny at the summit of a very lofty house and look at it, and you will understand that 5' is a very small quantity in the heavens. cº op *g, l f ſ t | ſ | f f ſ ſº j j j ! t | { | | } | | | J | 4 I j - \ >| | || --~~ f ~~~ o, T: Fºr º z: Ç Jupiter ey Af *-tº ; J. K. Frg. 18 (see page 144). f Tables had been constructed from whence could | be taken the position of the Sun, Moon, and Planets, but these tables gave places which were often a whole degree out. From a very early period the stars had been divided into different groups, or constellations as they were called, each of these constellations being supposed to represent some imaginary figure, and bearing a special The ºnstella name. Thus the ecliptic, or ap- tions, parent path of the Sun, was di- vided into twelve constellations. These were as follows, and the reader will find figures re- presenting some of them on the two preceding pages :— I. Aries, the Ram. II. Taurus, the Bull. III. Gemini, the Twins. - IV. Cancer, the Crab. Two of the stars in this constellation were called by the Romans Aselli, the Asses, and a nebu- lous cluster close to them was known as Praesepe, the Manger. W. Leo, the Lion. VI. Virgo, the Virgin. VII. Libra, the Balance. VIII. Scorpio, the Scorpion. IX. Sagittarius, the Archer. X. Capricornus, the Goat. XI. Aquarius, the Water-bearer. XII. Pisces, the Fishes. * The remainder of the heavens was divided into some thirty to forty constellations in a very similar manner; but it is unnecessary to reproduce these rough figures, which are now practically obsolete. The different stars were also classed into magnitudes, the brightest being said to be of the first magnitude, the next brightest of the second magnitude; then came the third magnitude, aud so on up to the sixth magnitude, which are the faintest stars that can be seen with the naked eye. A star of the first magnitude is about twice and a half as bright as one of the second magnitude—which is, in turn, about twice and a half as bright as those of the third magnitude. The stars which cannot be Seen by the naked eye, but which can be seen in a telescope, are divided in the same way into stars of the seventh, eighth, and ninth magmi- tude. Those of the tenth and eleventh mag- nitude are so faint that they require powerful telescopes to see them. Hipparchus and other astronomers had care- fully determined the places of the stars in the heavens by measuring their distances parallel and perpendicular to the ecliptic ; and these distances they called the longitude and latitude of the star. They measured the longitude of the stars from the , . d place where the ecliptic crossed “..." the equator, from the south to the north ; and this point was called the vernal equinox. Before long they discovered that this point was not fixed in the heavens, but slowly moved backwards by 36" a year. This was called the precession of the equinoxes. Suſſo- sequently astronomers obtained a far more accurate value of this quantity, Tycho Brahé making it 51" per annum. *-*-*m-smºsºm-º: - º, ºr, sº s - il t i I at # º º, Nº. º Fºre: tº ºš. §§§ºğ & Cº º §:#E sº & ſº º * - & * Fº t Wºº º º sº º º, sº º º- - º º º ſº 3 tº º VI. STUDIES ON THE VERB ©abcm, continued. Ireading and Translation. II.-The Imperfect, Perfect, and Plupcaſe..t Tenses. Sd) batte geſtern ein Sud). Gºte 5th ich hat'-te gest-errn ine booch zee hat Øtt Waſt cinem $80get doo hast iſ-nen ſo-gel einen Sting ge)abt. i'-men winſ, ge-hapt' ge)abt. , 391 ||abt eine $eber getabt. fe-hapt’ earr habt iſ-ne fay'-der ge'-hapt $)?eim $reitmb Watte eine liſt. Øer onine froint hat'-te i'-ne oom” dare $8ater Watte eine 30ſ%ter. §at utein fa/-ter hat'-te i'-me toeh'-ter hat mine ©oºm 3 (ºr Öat micſ;t einen come ay?', hat night iſ-nen Šír Šabem bač Šergmügen lai,'-ed' ge-hapt' weed’). Jia'-ben das ver-givue'-gen geşabt, QSir labem Grobeeten in bent ge-hapt veerr ha'-ben airt'-bair-rem in dame (jarten. Sd, jatte einen Öumb. ºcínrid) gar'-ten ich hat'-te iſ-nen hund Hine'-a'ich §atte midt 3eit. Soſyann 9atte , $eber unb hat'-te night tsite yo-hann' hat-te ſay'-deº und $8tubex cinem broo'-de,' '-men. §eſter ge)abt. CELEMISTRY. 147 Qinte; aber er 9atte fein ſapier. 36 din'-te ah/-ber airr hat-te kine pa'-pee,” ich babe eine 119t aber feinen (3d) ſuffeſ. ha'-be i'-ne oorr ah'ber ky'-nen Shlues'-sel §at ſtarſ meine $eber geºabt? §§er hat Karri my’-nefay'-deº ge-habt pairr §at meinen Stod 2 (ºr Öat meinen liber- hat my’-nen rock air” hat my’-nen we'ber- rodſ ge)abt. Satten ºie baá Šergmügen arock ge-hapt hat'-ten zed dass ver-grºweſ-gen gehabt? §atten ſte midt bie Wipfel, bie je-hapt’ hat'-ten zee nicht dee aepp'ºfel dee $8irmen unb bie Sºfíaumen getabt? §§o beer'r'-nen wrºd dee pſlow'-men ge-hapt’ vo bat er baá Šebermeſſer gebabt? (ºr §at hat ayr, dass fay'-der-messer ge-hapt a yrſ' hat eá in bem (9atten gebabt. Starſ flatte ess in dame garr'-ten go-hapt Karrl hat-te baé Sud) geſtern. Seinrid) bat eff jeute. dass booch gest'-ern Hine'-rich hat ess hoiſ-te §atte 309amm eş midſt ge)abt? Stein. hat'-te yo-hann' ess night ge-hapt’ mine Øu batteſt baá ºferb ge)abt. 3)er Jºann doo hat'-test dass pſayrd geº-hapt dare on ann. . §at 3.6d)ter geſabt (ºr bat eine 3 odyter. hat toech'-ter ge-hapt' ay,” hat iſ-ne toch'-ter Øie Gómeſter ºat miſjt (jeſb. 25ie bat dee shves'-ter hat nicht gelt zee hat §reunbe. froin'-de. WOCABULARY. Singular. JPlural. (jeſtern, yesterday. guest’-errºn, - Øer Sting, the ring. dare ring Øie liſt, the clock, the dee oor” [watch ber 300m, the son. bie Gºčğme. dare zone dee zoeh'-ne baá98ergmügen, the pleasure bie Sergmügungen” dass fer-gnateſ-gen dee fºr-gnue-gun-gen bie (£rbebeece, the straw- bie Grb2beeren. dee airrt’-bair-re [berry dee air-tº-bain-en (literally “earth-berry”) bač Šapier, the paper. dass pa-peer’ bie Stinge. dre ſing'-e bie 119ten” dee oorr’-en bie Japiere. dee ya-peer'-e ber ©djúſſeſ, the key. bie &djúſſeſ. dare shlues'-sel dee shlwes'-sel ber Štoſſ, the coat. bie Sjöde. dare rock dée 706k'-e ber 2ſpfeſ, the apple. bie Q(pfeſ. dare app'-fel - dee alepp'-fe! bie Širmen. dee beer'7'-men, bie $flaumcm. ** det pflow'-men. liber, over. bie Söirme, the pear. dee bee?”''-me bie $fíaume, the plum.” dee pflow'-me Sèatſ, Charles. JKarr. que'-be,” §einrid), Henry. §§o, where. Pſine'-a'ich 7:0 §§er, who (interrogative). QXI.)" (2 $ol)autn, John. Yo-hamin' QIber, but. $5eute,” to-day. ah-be,” hoy -te Stein, no (not any). kine OI8SERVATION.S. * Gestern is preserved in the Scottish “yostreen.” * The word Suck-uhr (bag-clock) or Tuschen'-uhr pºkerelock) was formerly used for watch; now only Whºr. * The plural of Vergnigen, Vergniiguengen, meaning separate pleasures or diversions, is irregular. * The ow pronounced as in ‘now.’ • * Heute reminds us of the Latin hodie—as in Hodie mihi, cras tibi, “To-day for me, to-morrow for thee.” The German r somewhat rougher than the English. English Version for correcting Translation of the above.—I had yesterday a book. She has had a ring (note the position of the past participle ge)abt at the end of the sentence). Thou hast had a bird. Ye have had a pen. (The 391 for the second person plural is used in speaking familiarly, where we should use Ølt in speaking to one person.) My friend had a watch. The father had a daughter. Has my brother a son 2 He has not had a teacher. We have had the pleasure. We have straw- berries in the garden. I had a dog. Henry had not time. John had pen and ink; but he had no paper. I have a watch, but no keys. Has Charles had my pen 7 Who has my coat 7 He has had my overcoat. Had you had the pleasure ? Had they not had the apples, the pears, and the plums ? Where has he had the penknife He has had it in the garden. Charles had the book yesterday, Henry has it. to-day, Had John not had it ! No. Thou. hadst had the horse. The man has had daughters. He has a daughter. The sister- has not money. She has friends. Note.—The sentences in the foregoing paragraph, , after being used for correcting the German translation, , should be written out, as before, from memory, and compared with the German. This remark applies to , all future exercises arranged in the same manner. $ºssº º & Sº --- sº- * : **- S. 4 &NSºº wº. " ~ º: Nººgº - § º º-Z º - - º tº ---> º Ø t : g HEAT, while serving to promote the dissolu- . tion of the constituents of a compound, is, as . already stated, itself one of the invariable results of chemical ac- tion. The heat thus generated is proportionate to the energy with which one element unites with another. In cases of strong chemical affinity this energy is often sufficiently great to give rise to actual combustion or burn- ing. All chemical action may therefore be regarded as a form of combustion, while combustion itself may be defined to be rapid chemical action attended by the evolution of light and heat. Heat and light have probably no separate and distinct existence: What has been said of the one construction is applicable to the other ; and OF A it can be proved, moreover, that CANDLE FLAMR. i they are susceptible of being mutually con- 148 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTO/8. verted into one another: light may become tº wºn g heat, or beat may become light. light and heat. Each is, in truth, but a different manifestation of the same force or energy, Or, as Tyndall graphically puts it, “Light is visible heat.” The light accompanying heat may, at first, be too feeble to affect the senses; as the temperature of the heated body rises, however,it at first manifests itself as a ruddy glow, which continues to increase until the point of White heat or incandescence is reached. Flame may cº be regarded as gas in a state of Flameincan- incandescence. The iron nail, *** which, exposed to the action of the elements, is gradually eaten to its core by rust, or converted into its hydrated oxide, has undergone a process strictly analogous to what would have taken place had we made the nail white hot and plunged it into a jar of oxygen, the only difference being that in the one case the same change is effected in a few seconds which in the other may take months or even years. To a person ignorant of the laws governing the physical universe, com- bustion must appear destruction in - the sense of annihilation. Combustion The substances burnt, a... whether solid or liquid, - have disappeared as such, —he can no longer handle them or even see them ; relying, therefore, on the evidence of his senses alone, they must appear to him to have alto- ‘gether ceased to exist. Having al- ready affirmed combustion to be che- mical action, it can hardly be neces- sary for us to say that all bodies, in the process of burning, undergo a , chemical change, of the nature of which we shall now proceed to speak. So far from anything being lost by combustion, we shall find that some- thing is actually gained by the process. All substances ordinarily regarded as combustible, and employed as such, whether for the purpose of illumina- * * * * tion, cooking, or warm- Constitutiºſ ing our dwellings, are combustible compounds of hydrogen substances. - and carbon. It is true they may, and often do, contain other elements, but it will be sufficient for our purpose to remem- ber that these are always present. Hydrogen is Hºrrºr an invisible gas, and the lightest of all the ele- ments, while carbon is known to all as charcoal or dampblack. The only form of combustion that - we shall now speak of, therefore, Bydro-eaſºn is that of a hydrocarbon com: *P* pound such as coal, or the gas which is distilled from it, oil, wax, tallow, spirit, etc. These bodies, whether existing in the form of a solid, a liquid, or a gas, all con- tain hydrogen and carbon in a state of chemical union. In the process of combustion these elements part company or are chemically dis- sociated from one another, and each unites, in turn, with the oxygen of the air to form two new compounds—water being formed in the one # DAVY's SAFETY LAMP. case, and carbon dioxide or carbonic acid gas in the other. Perhaps it will be asked, firstly, how can this be proved to be the case ? and, secondly, what becomes of these two compounds which are constantly being given off as long as combustion is in progress The answer to the latter question is, each one mingles with the atmosphere in the form of an invisible gas. The carbonic acid gas, thus generated, being wholly unfit for Tespiration, tends to render the air impure, Hence the necessity for perfect ventilation in all buildings where large num- bers of persons are assembled, or where any considerable quantity of a hydrocarbon com- pound is being consumed, whether for the purpose of heating or illumina- - tion, the results of vital action or *. for breathing being in such " a case precisely analogous to those of combustion. The former question may be answered by means of an apparatus especially adapted for the purpose, whereby the whole of the products of combustion can be col- lected in the form of water and car- bon dioxide, and can be shown to weigh considerably more, owing to the addition of the new element oxy- gen, than did the original hydrocar- bon compound before passing through the wondrous alembic of the flame. Without the aid of any scientific appa- ratus, however, any one may satisfy himself as to the nature of the change that takes place in combustion if he does but give heed to the fact that when a cold glass chimney is first placed over the flame of a newly kindled lamp it is bedeved with mois- ture, as though it had been breathed on: could the glass be now kept quite cold, it would soon drip with water, but of course it becomes too hot in a few seconds to condense the invisible water-gas any longer. The presence of the other element, carbon, which is only given forth into the atmosphere after it has become an invisible gas by its union with oxy- gen, may be demonstrated by holding a Cold plate in the flame of a candle or gas-burner, when, we shall find that substance deposited on its surface in the form of lampblack. By in- troducing a cold body into the flame we lower the temperature below the point at which flame can exist, which is that of incandescence or White heat; hence perfect combustion can no longer take place, and the carbon is deposited in the Solid form. Whenever a lamp smokes, therefore, or gives forth unconsumed carbon, it is a proof of a partial combustion only, which must be remedied if we would enjoy the full benefit of the light which the flame is calculated to afford us. Flame being, as we have already stated, gas in a state of incandescence, it follows that before combustion can take place the sub- Stance to be burnt must be converted into the Products of combustion. || % w ºff. % ºff | "Sº Carbon in flame, * ºº º jº º CHEMISTIR Y. I49 form of gas. Oil, wax, tallow, or even spirit, does not burn as such : sufficient heat must first be applied to convert a portion of it into a gas; hence the difficulty that is Sºº experienced in first lighting a *** candle or a lamp whose wick is into gas, p Saturated with oil or congealed tallow, while melted tallow or oil dropped upon the flame will at once extinguish it. Every candle or lamp, while burning, may therefore be regarded as a small gas factory. The wick is composed of vegetable fibres, every O3e of which is in reality tubular, and draws up the melted tallow or oil by capillary attrac- tion, while the heat of the flame converts it into gas. If the flame, say of a candle, be Carefully examined, it will be found to consist of three distinct portions. (See illustration On p. 147). The interior consists Tºº of a conically-shaped hollow (A) filled with the unburnt gas given off by the wick, sur- rounded by a lumi- nous envelope (B), which is the illu- minating portion of the flame; this is finally surrounded by a non-luminous flame (C), which is the area of perfect com- bustion. If a small tube be introduced into the hollow core of a flame, the gas with which it is { º NS filled will escape %sº ºn N 2% Rºss SS through the tube, tº and may be ignited at the end. A small quantity of gun- powder may even be placed in the middle of the flame, and combustion allowed to go on all round it without causing the powder to explode. The inner or luminous flame, not being in direct contact with the oxy- gen of the air, does not effect a perfect com- bustion of the substance burnt: this is only accomplished by the outer non-luminous flame, through the medium of which a perfect chemi- cal union with the oxygen takes place. We commenced our definition of the theory of combustion by describing it as rapid chemi- cal action; we have now shown the nature of that action to be the oxidization of each of the elements of the compound burnt. It must e be perfectly evident, therefore, Qºmºtion of that the combustion of a hydro- 8, ...” carbon substance can only take * place in the presence of oxygen, and it is because the air contains this gas that it will support combustion. A fire burns more briskly if we blow it, because we direct a current of fresh air through the centre of it ; and combustion is greatly stimulated if we plunge the burning substance into a jar of pure oxygen. On the other hand, the flame of a taper is soon extinguished if we cover it with gº TIII BLOWPIPE. º * § §§ § a glass bell jar, so as to exclude the air. It ceases to burn as soon as it has consumed the whole of the oxygen by which it is surrounded; and the gases that remain–nitrogen and car- bonic acid—will neither support ºr, * combustion nor vitality. i. has V. and often been compared, figuratively, “ OIl, to a flame, but in truth there is a deeper mean- ing in the simile than at first sight appears. The phenomena of vital action present many points of striking analogy with those of com- bustion, and it may safely be averred that an atmosphere in which a light is extinguished is one which is unfit for respiration, and in which life therefore cannot exist. From what we have said of the structure of flame it must be evident that, if we bring a current of air into contact with the flame sur- rounding the hollow that exists in its centre, we shall cause the combustion to be much more perfect. It is because the inner flame is not in. direct contact with. the oxygen of the air that its powers. of combustion are imperfect. This de- ficiency would there- fore be supplied. At the same time, inas- much as the lumi- *T*. .* - 3. >4 sº º's mosity of a flame is ~~ §§§ -- *- : *----- § ºšŠ to be ascribed, in a . ºf $3; § $3. *A. N §§§ SS y § § &\’ſº §§ § great measure, to the §§ §§ presence in it of s N §§§ solid unburnt though incandescent matter, it follows that the tendency of such an arrangement would begreatly to diminish its light-giving pro- perties. This is ex- emplified in the case of a Bunsen burner, by means of which a current of air is introduced into the heart of the flame, and thus greatly promotes com- bustion while diminishing the light-giving quality of the flame. The flame of the blowpipe, which can be brought to bear in any given direction, by sending a current of air through the heart of a flame by means of a slender tube of metal held in the mouth of the operator, can be shown to consist of two portions—the re- ducing flame, in which there is a deficiency of oxygen, and the oxidizing flame, in which there is an excess of oxygen. The combustibility of any body may be re- garded as being in inverse ratio to the chemical affinity of its constituent elements for one another—that is to say, the more feeble the bond by which they are held together, the more readily do they part company when ig- nited, and combine with the oxygen of the air. The most highly combustible substances (those whose entire volume is instanta- neously or almost instantaneously ºf converted into the results of “ombustibility. combustion) are termed explosive. In the case * 3: º §§ §ºš The blowpipe. I50 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. * of gunpowder we have an example of intense combustion converting in an almost incalcu- lably brief space of time a solid body into different compound gases occupying many hundred times its own bulk. For combustion of any kind, however, whether gradual or rapid, to be possible, atmospheric air or free oxygen - must be present; and the highly Light d explosive light carburetted hydro- ‘. gen or “fire-damp ’’ of our coal mines would extinguish a flame, as effectually as water, in the absence of oxygen. When mixed, however, with a sufficient quantity of atmospheric air to determine its perfect com- bustion, it constitutes the principal source of danger to which our mines are exposed. Like all hydrocarbons, its combustion is attended by the formation of water gas and carbonic acid gas, or “choke-damp ’’; and when the latter Suffocating gas is generated in large quantities, it sometimes proves more disastrous in its effects than the actual explosion. Various expedients have at different times been adopted to guard against this ever-present danger, the most effectual being the use of the so-called “safety- lamp.” Of this there are several modifications— differing but little in principle, however; it will be sufficient, therefore, if we describe the best known among them, which bears the name of its inventor, Sir Humphrey Davy. (See illustration on p. 148.) This consists of an ordinary oil lamp, whose sides, instead of being glass or any other transparent material, are composed of what is termed Wire gauze—that is to say, a kind of tissue woven of very fine iron wire, leaving very minute openings or interstices between its 18trands. Its general form is cylindrical ; and the top and bottom, which are made of iron, are Connected by upright rods of the same metal. The air necessary to support the com- bustion of the flame can enter through the ‘meshes of the wire, and the products of com- bustion find egress by the same means. The explosive gas may, of course, in like manner find its way into the interior of the lamp, and burn there, but only in such very small quan- tities as to be unattended with danger; while the flame, being unable to pass through the wire gauze, cannot come into contact with any large volume of the gas. Used with due pre- caution, this apparatus forms the most efficient safeguard that can be placed in the hands of the miner. It Only remains for us now to ex- plain the principle of its construction. We have already described flame to be gas in a state of incandescence, and we have shown that if we introduce any cold foreign substance into the flame it will lower the temperature below the point at which gas can exist as flame, and that combustion will cease. In like manner the wire gauze conducts away the heat from the flame so rapidly, should it come into contact with it, that its temperature will be lowered to such a degree that it can no longer exist as flame, and cannot therefore pass through it. Any one may satisfy himself of the truth of this by holding a piece of wire gauze of the necessary fineness over the flame of a lamp or candle, when he will find that the flame will not pass through its meshes. If held at the distance of an inch or two above a jet from which the gas is escaping, the latter may actually be ignited above the wire gauze while there is no combustion below. The pro- tecting medium of the safety-lamp may even become red-hot without giving rise to any ex- plosion. Should this occur, however, it would be well for the miner to extinguish his lamp, as it would be a sign that the fatal fire-damp was present in large quantities, and if the temperature of the wire gauze were to rise to a white heat it would be sufficient to kindle the gas and cause an explosion. V. THE SECOND STEP IN SING ING. EVERY practice should be preceded by exercise in full and deep breathing. The singer must learn to let out breath gradually. Let a tone be then sounded in the medium part of the voice, and held on as long as it can Breathi possibly be done. The rush of .* superfluous breath should never ºf ſº be heard. It spoils the tone, and makes it hoarse instead of ringing and clear. What is known to voice trainers as “attack" should also be studied. Each tone must ... 35 begin with a sharp and definite "Atººk impression on the ear. There must be no jerk or strain, but, on the other hand, there must be no Squeezing of the voice. Try to make pure tone at once. . It cannot be pure tone if, holding your hand before your mouth, you feel a rush of air. The syllable koo, used to commence tones, has a wonderful effect upon the voice. It causes the vocal cords to open promptly, and strengthens them. With this should be alternated the broad Italian syllable laa. Let the following exercise be used for voice training, and Sung before every practice:– KEY C. d m s d' d' s m d First let it be sung to laa, and afterwards to 7:00, in the latter casestriking each tone four times. The effect will be comic, but the great value of the exercise makes it essential. Two new tones must now be studied—Ray and Te (initials r and t). Ray stands between Doh and Me, and Te between Sol, and the Doh above. The exercise which follows may be verified by reference to the piano, which gives these tones rather better than it gives Soh or Me :— Comic but useful, Ray and Te. Key C. d m s : d' | f : – I d' – |d m [ s : a t = |d – < $ ~ * #=E====E=E==== #EE=##### | E=====F2H={ H & J -e-T-7 -º- PHISTORY OF MODERW TIMES. 15I The imagination may help the Self-teacher if forefinger pointing upwards represents Te. he tries to think of Ray as the Rousing, or, Note that Soh Te Rayº form a major common when low in pitch, the Prayerful tone; and of chord, having exactly the same “nearest Te as the Piercing tone, OT, as it is often relations of three tones” which Dok Me Soh called, “the tone sensible.” In our manual have. signs the open hand with spread fingers and The following is an exercise upon the tones palm facing outwards represents Ray, and the now learnt. It should be sung frequently:- KEY F. Chord Exercise. { | d : s, m d | r : t, d : s, s : m d . m | r s, s, - } {{s, r |t| : s, 5, m d : s , s : s m d [d ; tı |d : — | We return for a moment to the subject of Time. A pulse is divided into quarters by placing In music of a quicker speed than that we have a comma (,) between the accent noticed, two two-pulse measures mark and the point which divides Four-Pulse and are often turned into one four- i.it into halves. pulses, Divisions of ul six-pulse pulse measure, in the middle of The exercises which follow include the new Ined.Sliress which is an accent neither strong points just explained. In practising them the nor weak, called therefore medium. Analogous student, if he has no teacher, should correct to this in speech are the words “momentary,” himself by using a metronome or time measurer, “planetary,” etc. Similarly, two three-pulse | Such as is sold at the music shops. The ticks measures are turned into one six-pulse measure, of an old-fashioned eight-day clock will serve having in its middle part a medium accent. for this purpose. Each tick be- Analogous to this are the words “spirituality,” gins a pulse, so that a two-pulse Time. “immutability,” etc. The sign for a medium tone lasts during two ticks, while half-pulse accent is a short upright line. tones are two to a tick. Time is to many A silent pulse is indicated by the absence of singers the most troublesome part of musical a mote ; the space in front of its study, and accuracy in first exercises is highly Silent Pulses accent-mark stands empty. important. Four-pulse Measure. KEY D. ſº : r m : d s : m | r : — d : r m : s |m : r d :— | l #EEEEEE====E= N =======Hº-Ee-a==E=a+===*E==== Cill Six-pulse Measure. KEY F. | : m : d | r ; tı : s, s : m : d | r :— * | HºHEH { ======} excrescences in the Church, heard with deep displeasure that Carlstadt had joined the fana- tical “prophets of Zwickau,” and was preaching a crusade against chur&h ceremonies, and es- pecially against pictures and images in churches. The Zwickau prophets and their followers, ignorant and violent men, did not, like Luther DURING his residence in the Wartburg, Luther and his compeers, aim at a reformation of the was troubled at times with fits of despond- existing Church by improvement in its services ency; and he was induced at last to leave his and doctrines—but looked forward to the for- Patmos by intelligence that convinced him of mation of a visionary community of Saints, the the approach of troublous times. Among the gathering together of an elect congregation reformers at Wittenberg Dr. Carlstadt had from among the ruins of the old Church, a distinguished himself by zeal without discre- brotherhood whose vocation it should be to • * tion. Unfixed in principles, and | prepare the world for the advent of the millen- Fºnatiºisºn of extravagant in imagination, Carl- nium or the thousand years of Christ's visible Carlstadt, stadt was far more able to pull rule on earth. The idea that a sacrament with- down than to build up. Luther, whose turn of out faith had no significance induced them to mind was conservative, and who wished only reject infant baptism, substituting for it the to Tomove what he considered as blemishes and baptism of adults, whence their name Ama- I 52 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUOTOR. baptists. With regard to the Eucharist espe- “Nightingale of Wittenberg, that announced cially, Carlstadt's teachings were the coming of spring.” The Elector of Saxony Anºt entirely opposed to those of and the resolute and energetic Luther. As the doctrines of the anabaptists became more generally diffused, they developed into new and in many cases extravagant regulations; and various sects arose, among whom community of goods, the renun- ciation of civil dignities, and the prohibition of war and of the use of weapons was general. In One sect, characterized by wild excesses— that of Münster—a perverted application of patriarchal usages to modern times led to the Sanctioning of polygamy ; but this was an ex- ceptional case, not followed by the mass of the anabaptists. Then it was that Luther raised his voice most impressively against the extra- vagant, unwarrantable spirit of innovation that exhibited itself in the indiscriminate de- struction of church - property, and similar freaks of fanaticism. “Do not convertliberty into violence,” he solemnly warmed his hearers in his daily sermons at Witten- berg, whither he had hurried to put an end to the confusion. “Nothing can come of violence and tyranny but pretence, outward show, and the aping of Teligion. Let us first seek to move the heart. Wherever the heart and the mind of all are not moved, there leave it to God : ye cannot do any good.” He wished the Reformation to develope itself gra- dually and peacefully ; for he was not a man “given to change,” nor did he advocate the abolition of anything not manifestly con- trary to Holy Writ. And in a great mea- sure his wishes were fulfilled. Wittenberg became the centre of the intellectual activity of Germany; and Luther dwelt there in safety, though Adrian VI., the new pope, vehemently demanded that the Edict of Worms against him and his followers should be carried into effect. The Humanists, or promoters of edu- cation, and , all the educated youth of Germany, were loudly in favour of the Reformation, which they considered as a struggle for the religious and political freedom of their country. The translation of the Bible, begun at the Wartburg, was published in a complete form in 1534; even in the literature of the people, in the popular songs and satirical lampoons that circulated in taverns and at fairs, the oppo- nents of the movement were turned into ridi- cule; and Hans Sachs, the “cobbler bard ” Of Nuremberg, greeted Luther by the title of the Progress of the Reformation, THE BIBLE OF THE RE FORMATION. Philip of Hesse had been the first The Refor: of the German princes to adopt * * the Reformation and its princi- e ples; various other potentates now joined the movement, and thus the Re- formation spread onward and upward in Ger- many from the hearth to the throne. Among the citizens especially, and pre-eminently in the imperial free cities, the Reformation was universally popular. A national hymnary lentits aid to the cause, many a secular tune, familiar in the mouths of the people, being wedded to a sacred text, and sung in the churches by the congregations, who refused longer to remain silent spectators of a mass performed in an unknown tongue. Thus, to the tune of the old popular song, “Stras- burg, I must forsake thee,” was sung the hymn “My God, I’ll ne'er forsake Thee,” and “the hymns of the Old Saxon Sternholds'' served to rouse a fer- vent and even a fierce enthusiasm in the heart of Germany. Luther himself contributed some noble songs to the German hymnary, notably the noble lyric which quickly became the rallying song of his followers, breath- German princes. ing the very spirit of the strength in which they fought: “Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott, Ein' gute Wehr und Waffen'' (Our God. He is a for- tress strong, A good defence and weapon). Adrian VI., a re- forming pope, anxious to abate simony, the Sale of indulgences, and the other scandals of the Church, died after a short tenure of power ; and in his successor, the Medicean Clement VII., the Reformation found an astute, energetic and º: unwealtied opponent. Through - his influence E. rulers of Aj Reformation, and Bavaria, in conjunction with the ma- jority of the bishops of Southern Germany, entered into the confederation of Ratisbon, binding themselves to resist the introduction of the Wittenberg innovations in their lands. John “the Constant,” of Saxony, and Philip “the Magnanimous,” of Hesse, replied by the counter confederation of Torgau, whereby certain princes and imperial cities pledged them- selves to united action in opposing every attack on the freedom of the gospel. They pressed for a conference at Speyer. The Emperor Charles at first forbade the meeting; but afterwards. when the affairs of Italy had induced him to JIISTORY OF MOD ERAW TIMES. 153 quarrel with the pope, he consented to it. This division in Germany, at so important a crisis, was fraught with lamentable conse- quences to the peace and progress of the nation. Those who looked with distrust and even with hatred upon the Reformation, as subver- sive of legitimate authority and the established order of things, 'were confirmed in their opposi- 1523-1525, ... by the events of the #: War. The condition of the peasantry had been growing worse for the last century, and at length became unendurable. In the frequent wars between the princes and lords, the peasant was “between hammer and anvil,” plundered and oppressed by both the contending sides. Serfdom in its heaviestform,-increase of taxa- tion to support the growing luxury of courts and palaces, denial of justice by the courts, The peasant warin Germany 2. º §§ º ſ § º \ººl Š N º º º § .# § N º §§ }}}}\º ºğ Sº ºS § º wº Sl i º SN : º tº & º ;º :§ § { ; R \- g i [.§ |§ § º W º º § § º Müller of Bulgenbach, a discharged soldier, and Thomas Münzer, a fanatic anabaptist, went from place to place, stirring up the people and preaching the coming of a heavenly king- dom on earth, where rich and poor were to be equal, and there were to be no distinctions of rank. Hans Müller's followers displayed a charter of twelve articles which they swore to maintain with the sword : abolition of serfdom, relief from the grievous burden of taxes, and the free preaching of the gospel, were the chief points on which they insisted. Through Fran- conia, and to the Odenwald and the Neckar, the insurrection was soon raging. George Metzler, a tavern-keeper, as ignorant and des- perate as Jack Cade, was here the leader of the movement, Into Swabia, Alsace and Thuringia the conflagration spread; and the recklessness and ferocity of the peasants increased with their temporary successes. They put to death --- §§º = 3 ~ * § .#2 47 // * Nº & * ...? • ‘xº: LUTIIER AND HIS WIFE. where the influence of the nobles and knights was paramount, and the peasant was considered barely law-worthy, -at last drove the unhappy labourers to insurrection. They began to as- semble in tumultuous masses, and to form armed confederations. So long as these movements were partial, and confined to certain localities, they were easily put down; but when with the Reformation the general cry for freedom and independence echoed through Germany, the peasants, who imagined “evangelical freedom” was to take the form of exemption from all kinds of imposts and taxes, began to assemble in more formidable numbers and with a more definite purpose. After smouldering for more than two years, the flames of revolt at length burst forth simul- taneously in various parts of Germany, in 1525. In Southern Germany Balthasar Hubmaier of Ingolstadt, a preacher and professor, Hans the nobles who, like Count Helfenstein of Weinsberg, had resisted them. Münzer, who was revered as a pro- e. by phet in Mühlhausen, declared he **** had girded himself with the sword of Gideon to establish a millennium, and incited his followers to destroy castles, convents, and even churches. Nor did the insurgents lack leaders of some skill and experience. Godfrey of Berlichingen, with the iron hand, Florian Geyer, and, at the earlier period of the movement, Francis of Sickingen, the most renowned of the free knights of Germany, favoured the movement, and put themselves at its head : and not a few of the smaller towns, which often suffered from the exactions of the irresponsible nobles, were on the same side. Luther had at first en- deavoured to control the outbreak, preaching moderation to both parties, rebuking the nobles for their tyranny and the peasants for their 154 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. turbulence. But when rapine and homicide disgraced the cause, he was deeply grieved that such deeds should be associated with religion. “Be ye in the right as much as yo may,” he says in his Admonition to Peace, “yet it becometh not Christians to quarrel and to fight, but to suffer wrong and bear evil.” “Their doings and their victories cannot last long,” he declared; and at length wrote vehe- mently against “the robbing and murdering peasants.” The general alarm excited by the outrages of the peasants produced a powerful coalition of the princes and nobles of Germany against them. Philip of Hesse and John of Saxony led an army against the insurgents of - Thuringia, scattered the undis- *::::: ciplined hordes of rustics at SCO * Frankenhausen, tortured Thomas Münzer to death at Mühlhausen, and massacred numbers of the “prophet’s ” deluded followers. A BEN EDICTINE NION. K. Duke Antony of TLorraine killed seventeen thousand peasants in defiance of a proclaimed armistice. George of Frundsberg scattered the bands in the Black Forest, and the fugitives were hunted down like wild beasts; and in- creased burdens and still more cruel oppression marked the revenge of the angry nobles, who vowed that they would chastise with scorpions those whom their fathers had chastised with whips. Crucl and indiscriminate executions struck terror into the hearts of the discomfited insurgents. Many blooming districts had been converted into deserts; and the vengeance of the enraged proprietors was especially directed against the Luthcrans, who were unjustly charged with having been the cause of the revolt, although the earlier confederations of peasants—for instance, that of “I’oor Conrad’” —had preceded the Lutheran movement. Luther's marriage, in 1525, with Catharina von Bora, who had been a nun, y while he himself had been a Luther's monk, was looked upon by his ** opponents as another open defiance of the Romish Church. Occed C. º º SX23 sº gººgº. §: Jº WI. MULTIPLICATION (continued). Note.—The following explanation, which is in principle the same as that we have already given, will perhaps help the student to under- stand more fully the reason of the rule for multiplication. Since 154 = 4 + 50 + 100, ... 154 times 372 = 4 times 372-1-50 times 372–H 100 times 372 = 1488 + 18600 + 37.200. Thus we see that instead of multiplying by 50 and 100, we need only multiply by 5 and 1, provided we shift the second pro- duct one place to the left, and the third product two places, as explained above. Illustration 3. Multiply 214 by 306. 214. Here, 214 multiplied by 6 = 1284 306 214 }} » 0 = () since any number multiplied by T.T 0 gives 0 as the product, I4S8 18600 = 57.288 º and 214 multiplied by 3 = 642 And according to the rule, the 65484 second product is to be placed so that its units come under the tens of the first product ; and units of the third product must be placed under hundreds of the first product. Hence we may write them as above. Note 1.-If multiplier or multiplicand, or both, end with 0, or several 0's, we may omit them in the working, provided we remember to place on the right hand of the product so found as many 0's as we omitted from the end of multiplier or multiplicand or both. Example: Multiply 1200 by 40. Omitting the two 0's of the 1200, and the one 0 of 40, we have 12 × 4 = 48, ... 1200 × 40 = 48000. The student may satisfy himself both of the truth of this and of the explanation of it, by working at full length according to the rule. Mote 2.—The correctness of all results in mul- tiplication may be tested by using the multi- plicand as multiplier and the multiplier as multiplicand. If the result so found is the same as the original one, it is probably correct. Mote 3.—If more than two numbers have to be multiplied together, as 3 × 5 × 6, it is called continued multiplication. We say 3 × 5 = 15, ..'. 3 × 5 × 6 = 15 × 6 = 90. We shall evidently obtain the same result whether we multiply a number by 90 or by its factors 3, 5, and 6, in continued multiplication. For instance, 12 × 90 = 1080; and 12 × 3 X 5 X 6 = 36 × 5X 6 = 180 × 6 = 1080. A RITH METIC, 155 * ſ Just in the same way and for the same reason 4. A man left by will we shall get the same result, whether we mul- £1500 to each of his 7 sons' tiply 90 by 12, or by the factors of 12, i.e. by $ 750 5 y , 3 daughters 3 and 4 ; for 90 × 12 = 1080; and 90 × 3 × 4 3 100 5 y 5 y 4 brothers = 270 × 4 = 1080. # 50 3 * , 10 cousins. Note 4.—The effect of annexing a cypher to a How much money did he leave altogether ? number (i.e. writing 0 immediately to the right Ans. £13650. hand of it) is to multiply the number by 10. Thus, if I annex 0 to the number 75 I get 750, which is ten times 75. The student may convince himself that this is so by simply taking any number and multiplying it by 10. The reason of this is easily seen : for when we annex a 0 to any number, we thereby shift every figure of the number one place to the left, so that what were units now represent tens, tens represent hundreds, hundreds become thou- sands, and so on ; and since every figure now represents ten times what it did before, the whole number is ten times what it was, Hence, as we have already observed (note 1), if multiplier or multiplicand, or both, end with a cypher or several cyphers, we omit them in working, and simply annex to our result so obtained as many 0's as we omitted. For example, to multiply 2,500 by 31,000, omit the two 0’s of the multiplicand and the three O's of the multiplier : we have 25 × 31 = 775, ... 2,500 × 31,000 = 77,500,000. The following examples of multiplication are worked out to familiarise the student with the method. - Multiply 35 63 521 by 22 14 37 70 252 3647 70 63 1563 770 882 1927.7 Evercises and Problems in Multiplication. 1. (a) Multiply 42 53 86 72 88 by 61 19 23 13 G3 (b) Multiply 426 487 703 854 827 by 13 32 51 70 S9 (c) Multiply 807405 957834 976450 897654 by 14 33 52 71 Answers : (a) 2562, 1007, 1978, 936, 5544. (b) 5538, 15584, 35853, 59780, 73603. (c) 11303670, 31608522, 50775400, 63733434. 2. Find the products in the following C2,SeS — (a) 457 × 234 ; 674 × 246; 456 × 375; 978 × 365. (b) 764 × 374; 573 × 459: 674 × 893; 45.7 × 658. (e) 74.5 × 876; 798 × 974; 654 × 327 ; 954 × 376. AnSWerS : — (a) 106938, 165804, 409365, 171000, 356970. (b) 285736, 263007, 835461, 60.1882, 300706. (c) 652620, 777252, 406504, 213858, 35S704. 3. Find the product of the sum and dif- ference of 389 and 74 ; of 876 and 92; of 17 and 3000; of 88 and 66. Ans. 145845; 81312; 899.9611 ; 3388. 827 × 495; 873 × 957; 476 × 854; 5. A farmer buys 237 head of cattle at £25 a head, and sells them after some months for £33 a head. How much did he gain on them : Ans. £1896. 6. If a man works 9 hours a day every day in the year except Sundays, how many hours will he work in 17 years 2 What difference would it make if he had only worked 5 hours on Saturdays 7 Ans. (allowing for 4 leap years) 479.25 hours : difference 3536. 7. Supposing that there were in London 8,540 streets, in each of which there were 40 houses, and in each house 9 people, what would be the population of London? Ans. 3,074,400. 8. In the last problem, suppose that each household consists of 4 adults and 5 children, and that each adult spends £11 a year on clothes, and each child £5 a year, what would be the total expenditure on clothes in London 7 Ans. Adults £15,030,400. Children £8,540,000. £23,570,400. 9. A carriage wheel, 212 inches in circum- ference, makes 1124 revolutions while the car- riage runs along a road. How many inches has the carriage travelled 7 Ans. 238,288. 10. A man makes 23 strokes in one minute with the handle of a pump which lifts 3 pints of water at each stroke. How many pints will he raise if he work uniformly for one hour ! Ans. 4,140. SIMPLE DIVISION. Definition.—Simple Division is the method of finding how many times one number is con- tained in another—i.e. how many times a num- ber can be subtracted from another number. It is in fact a short way of repeatedly sub- tracting one number from another. The first number (which of course must be the smaller of the two) is called the Divisor ; the other number is called the Dividend; and the number to be found is called the Quotient (from the Latin word quoties, meaning “how often ") because it answers the question how often is the smaller number contained in the larger ? Thus, how often is 5 contained in 157 Answer: 3 times, because 5 can be sub- tracted 3 times over from 15. For if we subtract 5 from 15, and then another 5 from the remainder 10, and then a third 5 from the remainder 5 there will remain nothing, Therefore we say 5 is contained exactly 3 times in 15. In this example 5 is the Divisor, 15 the Dividend, and 3 the Quotient. But it may happen that the Divisor is not contained an exact number of times in the Dividend. For instance 5 is contained only 3 times in 17, but there is a number remaining 156 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. over, mamely 2. In this case we say 5 is contained 3 times in 15, leaving a remainder 2 Over. Now let us take another example, and put the same reasoning into slightly different words. Suppose I ask whether 28 can be divided into a number of parts, each of which is 7, or how many sevens are there in 28 % This is a question in Division; and the sim- plest way to answer it—the way which would probably suggest itself to one who knew no- thing of the short cuts of division—would be to subtract 7 from 28 as many times as possible; or in other words, to tell off 28 by sevens. We should probably say 7 from 28 leave 21, 7 from 21 leave 14, 7 from 14 leave 7, 7 from 7 leave 0. We should thus find that by 4 sub- tractions of 7 we exhaust the whole 28. Arithmeticans express this by saying that 7 is contained 4 times in 28; or that 28 divided by 7 gives a quotient, 4. Now, in this example it happens that the dividend, 28, is completely exhausted by 4 sub- tractions. But if our dividend lead been 30, then 4 subtractions of 7 would have still left a remainder 2. So that 30 divided by 7 gives a quotient 4 and a remainder 2. Note.—The sign -- (the sign of division and called “divided by’’), when placed between two numbers, means that the left-hand number is to be divided by the right-hand number (i.e. the first number is to be a dividend, and the second a divisor, and we are to find the quotient). Thus, instead of saying, as above, “ 28 divided by 7 gives a quotient 4'' we can express the same fact by writing 28 + 7 = 4. N.B.-The student must make himself tho- Toughly at home in the multiplication table before attempting division, as every step in division is done by the aid of multiplication. RULES OF PRONUNCIATION. The Simple Vonels (continued). § 24. a. I is pronounced like the English e in she. It waries in quantity, being long in 7'ide, wrinkle, tige, stalk, vive, lively ; and more es- pecially when it has the circumflex, as in abºme (o.F. abisme) abyss; ?le (O. F. isle), island; dºme (o. F. diame or disme), tithe ; mous finimes, we finished; qu'il finit, that he might finish. On the other hand, it is short in 7'ite, rite, riche, rich, il d'iya, he will laugh ; mission, mission, vif, lively. This point is more fully treated in § 29. b. When i comes after a and e, it loses its own sound (see §§ 31 and 36), which is restored to it fully by the diaeresis (see $ 7), and very slightly in a liquid syllable. With o it forms the diphthong oi, which is pronounced oua º the “restores to each letter its original sound : frère lai, lay brother (lé), Soeur laie, lay sister (lé)—laïque, lay (lä-ic). peine, pain (pême), ràveil, awakening (vé); in this liquid syllable the is but slightly audible and the l is mute; see § 53. poil, animal’s hair—oël (o. F.) yes (6-il). c. I loses its sound when it is followed by on or m, with which it forms a nasal vowel (see § 43 b.) But i regains its original sound of the English 6 whenever m and n are doubled, or are followed by a vowel, or—in the case of in- by an h mute : Żmpression (im, nasal), but immersion (i-mer- Sion). lin, flax (in nasal), but inné, inborn (?-né). fimage, image (?-mazhe). inhabile, unskilled (i-nabil). ingemu, candid (in-zhènu). inique, unjust (i-nik). 'inherent, inherent (i-néran). inhwmain, barbarous (i-numain). § 25. a. O has an open sound like o in hot, and a close sound like o in hole. It is open at the beginning of words :— oasis, Casis (ú-āzīs). obole, mite (öböle). ode, Ode (öde). or, gold (Ör). oolithe, oolite (ö-ölite). os, bone on bones (Ö). oseraie Osier plantation (Özeré) oseille, sorrel (Özeill', see § 53). Yet odour, odour, o/, / Oh I osey", to dare, and osier, wicker, have the long o. b. O, at the beginning or in the body of a word, if it be followed by m or m, is nasal (see § 46), but regains its original open sound when these letters are doubled or followed by a Vowel:— ombre, shade (om-bre), but omelette, Omelet ö-melette). hombre, ombre, a game (om-bre), but homme, man (Ömme). onde, wave (on-de), but one rewa, Onerous (ö-mérewar). honte, shame (hom-te), but honnéte, honest (ö-néte). c. In the body of a word o is open, unless it be followed by a soft s (see § 43 c) or a silent S : — abricot, apricot (ābricó). croe, hook (crö). galop, galop (gålö). 'mort, death (mö7'). noble, noble (möble). votre, your (vätre). Jºcosse, Scotland (écösse). notion, notion (nú-sion). dos, back (d6). 7'ose, rose (7.6:6). Remark. —In the plurals abricots, crocs, o is close ; read therefore abricó, cró. An & added by inflexion has a tendency to affect the final vowel in the sense of broadening it, although it would be unsafe to give this as an absolute rule. M. Littré, by his silence on the plural of esoroc, galop, sirop, lot, pot, allows the in- ference that the o should be open as in the I'RENCE PH2O WUVOIATION. 157 singular. The Parisian's tendency is to make both singular and plural close—in which he should be followed only from a distance. d. O at the end of a word is open : allégro, duo, Écho, indigo, numéro, zéro. Should an s be added for the plural, the sound would remain unaltered, in contradiction to the rule given in paragraph G of this section. 6. O has the close sound of o in hole, as already mentioned: dàme, cupola, hótel, rôtir, to roast, le vôtre, yours. Höpital, hospital, is pronounced Öpital. § 26. U. It has been stated (see § 1 c) that this letter has no corresponding sound in English, Although it varies in quantity, the difference between a long and a short w is not always very appreciable. This subject is fully developed in § 29. a. When it is necessary to give to g, before e or i, the hard (or rather the soft guttural) Sound which it possesses before a or o, u is inserted, as in— aiguade, provision of fresh water (ěghade). guenon, she-ape (ghenon). guerre, war (ghère). guide, guide (ghide). aiguière, ewer (ěghière). guise, manner (ghize). b. Should there be a diaeresis over the e or ?, w would retain its primitive sound, as in ciguë, hemlock, ambiguité, ambiguity.—(N.B. Make ..four syllables of the latter word, am-bi-guì-té, not five, aº-bi-gº-î-té, gui here presenting a diphthong, not a double syllable; see Ś 52.) c. There are, however, instances where w in gui forms a genuine diphthong with the i (i.e. Žnvo sounds in one effort of the voice); such as in the proper names Guise and Guizot—incor- rectly though usually pronounced Ghize and Ghizot—in aiguille, a needle, and aiguise)', to sharpen, with their derivatives; onquiculé, clawed; Guiane (better Guyane), Guienne (better Guyenne); ineatinguible, inextinguish- able. Ičeman'ſs : — (1) Read consanguinité with gui as a diph- thong, but in consanguin say ghin. (2) Read linguiste and linguistique with the diphthong referred to in b, but lingual is pro- nounced lin-goual (ow = 00). (3) Arguer is read in three syllables: a*-gu-er. (4) Certain words of Spanish origin, but quite naturalised, sound the combination gºt, gow (goo) when it is before a vowel: algwazil, Spanish constable (algouazil), paraguante, a pair of gloves, a present, (gouant), guano, Guadalquivir (Gouadalkivir), Guadeloupe, jaguay, etc. Add pinguin (better spelled pin- gouin), which claims a Welsh (pen greyn, White head) or a Breton (pen govemn) origin. § 27. a. U goes regularly after g when the latter begins a syllable; it then serves as a kind of appendix to q, and produces with it the articulation k, exceptin piqüre, sting, where 20 retains its original sound. quasi, almost (kazi). • . . . A 7 A quasimodo, Low-Sunday (Kazimódó). quand, when (kam). aqueduc, aqueduct (akedºk). remarque, remark (remark). aqueua, aqueous (akeu). aquilon, north wind (a.kilom). quiproquo, mistake (kiprokó). quoigue, although (koik). que, that (ke), guidam, a certain man (kidam). b. In words of later importation from the Latin, qu is sounded (1) like ku, and (2) like kou. Here is an all but complete list of them. (1) Words in which qu sounds like ku : équestre, équiangle, équiaze, équidistant, €gui- latéral, équilatéré, équimultiple, équitation, loquèle, quia, quibus, quiddité, quiescent, quiet, quiétisme, quiétiste, quinqué (and derivatives), gºzin decemvir", quintetto, quintidi, quintuple, Quirinal, wbiquité, 7'équiem. [Note.—Quinquet, an oil lamp, and 7'equinquer, to dress up, are no derivatives of quinqué, and are read kinké and rekinker.] (2) Words in which qu sounds like kou º adéquat, aquarelle, aquarelliste, aquarium, aquatile, aqua-tinta, aquatique, équanimité, équateur, equation, liquation, loquace, loquacité, quadragénaire (and all beginning with quad, except quadrille—kadrille), quake” (the French say kouak"), quaºtidi, quartile, quarto, quarx, quaternaire (but quaterne is katerne), quatuo)", quinquagésime (kuinkoua), quinquagénaire, squale, squamenta. [Wote.—The people of Paris call their squares ska?' - le skar du Temple. The Académie countenances this, but M. Littré recommends the English sound.] c. U placed between any other consonants than g and q, and the vowels a, e, i, o, keeps its own sound, blending with these vowels more or less readily. Coming after a, e and 0, it loses its sound—which can be restored to it, however, by the diaeresis:— grºuau, oatmeal (gru-6, two syllables). ºuelle, lane (ow-el, do. ). huit, eight (wit, a diphthong). duo, duet (dw-Ö). Saul, Saul (sūl). sewl, alone (sel, § 18. 2). soil, satiated (soo). Saúl, Saul (Sã-ul, two syllables). § 28. Y. This letter, called i gree, is pro- nounced like the French i (§ 24) when it appears by itself as a pronoun or adverb: jºy pense (zhi), I think of it, jºy vais, I go there (or to it). a. At the beginning or end of a word, and in the body of a word after a consonant, y has the force of one French i : - yeux, eyes (iew) de/, dey (dē), see § 38 Marly, place (li) symétrie, symmetry (si) In words of foreign Origin it is aspirated as an imitial, in so far as it admits of no elision or connection, before it. Thus we read: le yacht, les yachts, as if written le iak, lê iak ; le yatagan, les yatagans, as if Written le iata- gam, lê tatagan ; la yole, les yoles, as if written la iole, lê iole; le yucca, les yuccas, as if written le iucca, lê Q?!CCQ. But say 'yeble, 7'yeuse, 7'ypréau, les yébles (lé zièbles), etc., these being French words; and du jambon d’York, Yorkshire ham. b. In the body of a word, after a vowel, y has the force of two French i's: 158 THE UAVTVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. pays, country = pai-is, pr pè-i. aôbaye, abbey = abbai-ie, pr. a-06'-7. grasseyer, to burr = grassei-ier, pr. grassé-ié. moyen, means = moi-ien (see §§ 50 and 51). o'oyal, royal = roi-ial (see Ś 51). Iłemark.-Over the pronunciation of such words as moyen and royal, where y comes after o, Mſ. Littré and the Académie are quite at variance. The former recommends the pronun- ciation which was current in the seventeenth century, and says no-ien, 7'0-ial; the Académie says moi-ien, roi-ial, and so do the vast majority of educated Frenchmen; it is, there- fore, the latter view which forces itself upon ll.S. On Quantity. § 29. a. Vowels are long or short—that is, we dwell a longer or a shorter time upon them while pronouncing them. This remark, which is of the utmost consequence in the study of Greek and Latin, bears on the pronunciation of each French word as a unit, but does not affect in the least degree the prosody of the language; in other terms, no system of versi- fication is based upon it. Examples: a is long in páte, paste, and short in patte, paw. 62 25 eastréme, extreme , eatremité. e a & * 3, abºme, abyss } } lime, file. O 33 nóēre, ours 35 not?'e, our. Qſ, 33 flûte, flute ,, lutte,struggle. In these words the long sound is indicated by the circumflex; but there are cases where vowels are long without there being any par- ticular sign to point out the fact. For in- stance : a is long in mare, pool, and short in mari, hus- band. 6 35 je mets, I put 25 mettre, to put. i. 35 fille, daughter }} fil, thread. O 35 ton't, wrong 3) tordre, to twist. Qſ, 33 onuse, muse 25 musique, IIlliSIC. b. A vowel is long : 1st, when it is capped by the circumflex, as shown above; 2nd, when it is followed by e mute, or a Soft consonant— i.e. by b final and sounded, be, ble, bre—d final and Sounded, de, dre—ge, gle, gre—se—ve, ºre —z final and sounded, ze; 3rd, when it is fol- lowed by a final and sounded, or by the finals ye, 7'd, at ; 4th, when it is followed by the verbal terminations ions, iez. IEXERCISE IV. Äpre, críčme, mous fimes, cóte, traitre, vous lötes ; travKe, crient, priſe, remuerai; Jacob, sAble, SAbre, SUd, VIde, moudre, AUge, espińgle, Ogre, v Ase, TIve, CEUvre, gAZ, gAze, caviar, hiver, étourdre, rougle, Sol Ide, lit.Ige, empire, vive, crics, perdrix, lits, déSIr, cor, corps, mur, TAve, pFrä, sort, remopds, rempart, sors; nous crišions, vous riiez. AZUr, meSUre, CUbe, étude, juge, excuse, cuve, Tev Ue, Or, tort, lobe, loge, chose, Tobe, vous pluiez, nous lions, vous louiez, TIre, soup.Ir, Ivre, LISé, Aigre, SEIgle, TOUge, parādre, cłde, ZEbre, érable, SAge, brAVé, moutArde. c. Conclude that in other positions the vowels are short, or shorter: frappé, Cri, prié, tortueux, remuer, jacobin, Sablé, sapeur, Sondé, vite, mouton, auguste, hache, pièce, ogresse, vaste, vif, Oeuf, nez, hivermer, sucre, corsé, expulse, corporel, résulte, ravi, perdu, attribut, Sorti, nous crions, vous riez, azuré, ordre, lisse, Sèche, race, perruque, luxe, tortu, cric, čtourdi, rougi, décati, empirique, il finira. Remark I.-In spite of the *, these are short : abimer, dà, mù, Crü, hôpital, būcher, bûche- I'OIOl. Remark II.--Nasal vowels (see § 42) are longer at the beginning and in the body of words, as EMployer, répondre; and shorter at the end : chac UN. Jºemark III.--When i is followed by lle liquid (see $ 67) it is long: fille, daughter, pr. Jill ; but ville, town, is pronounced vil, because lle in this word is not liquid. Likewise the vowel followed by il or ille liquid is long: máil, pāille, verméil, parčille, cuéille, füüille, etc. On the other hand, the first half of a diphthong which is not followed by a liquid , is very short; pied, premier, idiot, curieuai, chien, nation, Čiži, biáis, éciſelle, etc. In poetry, however, important exceptions take place: nation, which in prose is read ma-tion, in verse would form three syllables, na-ti-on ; i from a short would obtain an intermediate quantity (cf. §§ 51-2). Pemark IV.-The rules of quantity are not absolute. If some of the words given as pos- sessing long vowels were, instead of after, placed before other words beginning with a vowel or h, mute—provided they were closely connected in a grammatical sense—the long sound would give place to the short. Thus homme by Áve, but by Kve homme : le sūd de la carte, but le sūd-est; j'ai vu l'Ogye, but l'Ogre est là. NOTE.-In reading those phrases, be careful not to alter the quality of the sound : don't say j'ai vu l'ógre, and then lºgye est là. Retain the open sound in both, although long in the first and short in the second phrase. It must further be observed that the quantity may be affected by an antithetical construction, and by the nature of the French accent, which, bringing into light the last word of a proposi- º is apt to lengthen the last syllable of that WOl'Ol. V. SEDIMENTARY ROCKS (continued). 2. Clays, Shale, Loam, and Marl. Clay, chemically speaking, is a hydrated silicate of alumina. It is produced in its purest state by the natural decay of granitic rocks, and is known as kaolin, or china clay. The felspar, which is one of the constituents of the granite, gradually decomposes, the greater part of the Soda and Clays, GEOLOGY. potash contained in the felspar is dissolved out by the rain and carried away, and the fine clay which remains is separated in the same manner from the quartz, mica, and other minerals. In a less pure form clay is obtained from the decomposition of other crystalline rocks, and from some such Sources all the clays which are known have been derived in succes- sive geological periods. Under great pressure clay becomes hardened into shale, with a ten- dency to split into thin layers, as in the beds which lie above the coal measures. Loam is a mixture of clay and sand; and maa'l is a calca- reous clay—that is, with a mixture of from 10 to 60 or 70 per cent. of carbonate of lime. 3. Limestones and other Chemically and Or- ganically formed Rocks. Most of the rocks included in the first two groups are not in any way dependent for their construction upon the existence of animal or vegetable life. If the globe had remained up to the present time untenanted by living crea- tures and unclothed by vegetation, there is not the slightest reason for supposing that their formation would have been interfered with. They are, as we have seen, mere aggregations of mineral matter derived from the destruction of pre-existing rocks. They frequently con- tain fossils, the sandstones more often showing only impressions. Clays are sometimes abun- dantly fossiliferous, but the essential features of such rocks are in no way connected with fossil remains or the life of which they are the memorials. It is far otherwise with the great bulk of the rocks included in the group now under consideration. An examination of them shows conclusively that their origin is due directly to the life processes of the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Chalk is a typical limestone, and being well known, will form a suitable illustration. Chemical analysis shows that it *::::::::: consists of nearly pure carbonate tº lime. Microscopically it is seen to be composed to a great extent of minuteshells (foraminifera), still Smaller bodies known as coccoliths, and believed to be the joints of a very minute alga (seaweed), and particles of carbonate of lime—probably frag- ments of shells. There are besides these numerous remains of fish, shells of molluscs, and other marine life. Other limestones of older and of later date exhibit a similar struc- ture, and the history of a limestone rock of marine origin is in its broad features pretty much the same in every case. The carbonate of lime dissolved in the ocean is taken up by those plants which require it for their struc- ture, such as nullipores and corallines. The orustacea (crabs, lobsters, etc.) appropriate their share for their shelly coverings; the molluscs construct their shells of the same material; the corals build up their stony habitations with carbonate of lime also ab- stracted from the water ; the star fishes and sea urchins appropriate a further quantity ; and lastly, the foraminifera living and dying in immense numbers abstract what is necessary for their purposes. The destiny of all these is one and the same : they are rock-builders. Their skeletons, often broken up into indistinguishable fragments, Rock but sometimes preserved in nearly builders, all their delicate beauty, are spread along the bottom of the Ocean, Or, in the case of the coral reefs, rise by infinitesimal degrees as the busy labours of the minute inhabitants of the grow- ing colony enlarge the mass of their aggregate dwellings. What is, has been. The mud at the bottom of the Atlantic (ooze) is an uncon- solidated limestone—that is, it is still in the process of formation. The chalk of England is nothing more nor less, excepting that it is drier and harder, and forms grass-clothed downs on dry land instead of Sea-bottom. The carbonife- rous limestone, the Devonian limestones, the still older limestones of the Silurian formation, are harder and more crystalline, but they have been made up in precisely the same way. The forms of life are not identical—each formation has its peculiar features, by which it may be recognized and identified—but in the method of their formation they are alike. I’resh-water Limestone—that is, limestone formed in fresh-water lakes—is distinguishable by the character of its fossils, and frequently by its general appearance, which is usually different from that of marine origin. Oolite or “roe stone * is a limestone made up of little egg-like grains looking like the roe of a fish—whence its name. Each grain is composed of layers of carbonate of lime formed round a minute nucleus of sand, shell or coral; not infrequently a foraminifer is so enclosed. When these grains are large the rock is called a pisolite, from pistºn, a pea. Th'avertime is a calcareous deposit from bot water and other springs. The so-called “ petrifying’’ springs of Derbyshire are of this description. The lime is held in solution by an excess of carbonic acid, and as this evapo- rates, the lime is deposited and encrusts what- ever is put into the water. In many parts of Italy mineral springs abound, and travertine is formed in considerable quantities. Coal and Lignite.—The true coal of the car- boniferous era, the “brown coal” of New Zealand, Australia and Germany, and the lignite beds of Bovey Coal the Tracey and elsewhere, bad a * similar origin. They are all vegetation, accumulations of ancient vege- tation which has undergone chemical change under certain conditions. In the “brown coals” and “lignites '' this change has been less complete than in the true coal, and the term lignite is employed to express the fact. Some of the lignites and brown coals belong to a comparatively late geological formation. The Bovey Tracey beds are presumably of Miocene age, the brown coal of the neighbour- hood of Bonn belongs to the same period, and those of New Zealand and Australia are believed to be late Tertiary deposits. METAMORPHIC ROCKS, We have seen that sedimentary strata may be produced from the waste of igneous rocks 160 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. and the re-arrangement of their materials, and that this has been done some- times with and sometimes with- *: out the agency of animal or * vegetable life. Tt is indeed a reasonable conclusion that directly or indirectly all existing strata have been derived from rocks originally formed by molten matter. We have now to show that there are changes going on through which the sedimentary rocks return by the united agency of pressure, heat and moisture to a condition similar to that from which they were derived. The evidence upon which this conclusion is based has been gath- ered from many sources and accumulated by the patient labour of numerous observers. In some cases the strata have been traced through the successive stages of their change ; in others nearly obliterated fossils remain to testify to their original condition. It is an established fact that argillaceous strata (strata more or less composed of clay) become hardened and changed into Lydian stone, porcelain jasper, clay slate, mica slate, talc slate, chlorite slate, mica schist, chlorite Schist, talc schist, hornblende schist, and gneiss. Which of these particular rocks a given clay bed would form if it were changed by long continued and severe pres- sure accompanied with heat, must depend upon several | considerations, the first of which is the chemical com- position of the strata to be metamorphosed. Few clays are chemically pure. There is, for instance, a wide difference between the earths used for brickmaking and those employed for the best porcelain—OT even between the clays used for common pottery and those suited for the manufacture of china. The brickmaker and the potter are in reality only humble imitators of natural processes, and their art consists in producing metamorphic changes and adapting them to human requirements. Nature Works on a grander scale, and carries her processes further. Very much, however, what the potter does with the clays is done by Nature as a first step. Porcellanite, or porcelain jasper, for instance, is simply an altered clay rock which takes its name from its resemblance to porcelain. The lias of Portrush in Ireland is another illustration of the altera- Alteration tion produced by pressure and heat in argil- . laceous (clayey) beds. The unaltered rock is similar in character to the liassic strata of England. It is, when changed, a Tock identical with the black Lydian stone of the jewellers, and we are not only able to identify it by its Connection with the unaltered strata : the fossils themselves have in many instances been preserved, changed into iron pyrites. Of the alteration of argillaceous beds into clay slates there are abundant proofs—some of them being plentifully fossiliferous. As the metamorphism ORGANISMS PROM CBIAL K. extends fossils disappear, and if the change be carried far enough the various features of mica Schist become apparent. If there was much silica in the original clay, it now forms into Small veins, and alternate layers of mica and quartz make up the bulk of the rock. If there was less silica in the clay, there will be less quartz in the rock. Under some circumstances hornblende makes its appear- ance, and we have hornblende schist, or acti- nolite schist ; and—given the necessary pro- portions and the required conditions—the rock is altered into gneiss. Gneiss contains the same mineral ingredients as granite, but it differs in their arrangement. It looks like a stratified granite, and might almost be so de- Scribed if it were not that stratification is a term applied only to sedimentary deposits. All these processes may be sometimes con- veniently observed on a small scale. Sir Charles Lyell describes the result of an - intrusion of a granitic mass Illustrations, amongst fossiliferous strata on the west side of the fiord of Christiania. “The stratified rocks,” he says, “replete with shells and Zoophytes, consist chiefly of shale, limestone, and some sandstone; and all these are invariably altered near the granite for a distance of from fifty to four hundred yards. The aluminous shales are hard- ened and have become flinty : sometimes they re- semble jasper.” Ribboned jasper has also been pro- duced, and nearer the granite the Schist often contains crystals of hornblende. “Fre- quently between the granite and the hornblende slate above mentioned, grains of mica and crystalline felspar appear in the schist, so that rocks resembling gneiss and mica Schist are produced. . . . In some places the siliceous matter of the schist becomes a granular quartz ; and when hornblende and mica are added the altered rock loses its stratification and becomes a kind of granite. The limestone, which at points remote from the granite is of an earthy texture and blue colour, and often abounds in corals, becomes a white granular marble near the granite, sometimes siliceous, the granular structure extending occasionally upwards of 400 yards from the junction ; the corals being for the most part obliterated, though sometimes preserved even in the white marble. Both the altered limestone and kard- ened slate contain garnets in many places, also ores of iron, lead and copper, with some silver.” It may be added that garnets are chiefly found in mica slate, hornblende slate, and gneiss; less often in granite and granular limestone ; sometimes in serpentine and lava. There are many varieties, differing greatly in chemical composition. The colour is various, some shade of red, brown, green, black, or yellow, being most common, ASTRONOMY. 161 IT has been already mentioned that at the commencement of the seventeenth century it was known that the earth and planets revolved round the sun, and that some times they moved faster than at others, whilst motion of Venus, would not account for that of Mars. Nothing daunted, he rejected them all, and contrived yet other hypotheses. But these were not more successful. For fifteen years he pursued his arduous work, and without success. Mars, of all the planets, proved to be the most troublesome, and yet the observations of this planet which had been made by Tycho Brahé were numerous and accurate. At last, however, his perseverance was re- warded, and he discovered his famous first law.— * I. That the orbits of the it was even determined where they moved faster or slower. But according to what laws did the planets thus move A momen- tous question : for what further progress could theoretical astronomy be expected to make, until this problem had been planets are ellipses having the sun in one of their foci. Let us inquire further into the meaning of this law. An ellipse is a closed curve, not unlike a flattened circle; and an illustra- tion of an ellipse is shown in fig. 23. The longest dia- solved 2 The first great contribu- tion to astronomy during the seventeenth cen- tury was the discovery of the true answer to this momentous question. It was the discovery by the illustrious Kepler of the famous laws FIG. 19.-LIBRA. meter of the ellipse, P A, is called its major aris, and the shortest diameter, B D, is called its minor axis. On the major axis of every ellipse are two points called its foci, and in the figure marked S T. These foci are placed at equal FIG. 20,—sco RPIO. governing the motion of the planets round the sun—a discovery which has ten- ****** dered his name immortal. Kepler was born in Southern Germany in 1571, and was an enthusiastic astro- nomer and indefatigable worker. Gifted with great ingenuity, he was a most energetic theorist. With wonderful patience and ingenuity he invented hypothesis after hypothesis which he thought might prove to be the true laws governing the motion of the planets. Turning to the long series of careful obser- vations made by Tycho Brahé, he, with great labour, carefully reduced these so as to obtain the true position of the planets at different times. He then rigidly tested each of his hypotheses by comparing their result with these observations of Tycho Brahé. But each of these hypotheses broke down under the rigid scrutiny ; this one failed to explain this fact, another failed to explain some other fact, and a third, whilst it accounted for the observed WOL. I. Fig. 22.-cANCER. FIG. 21.-PISCES. distances from the centre of the ellipse M, and they possess certain geometrical properties which need not be described now; but the most important is the fact that the distance of any point on - Kepler's the circum- i. ference of the ellipse from one focus, added to the corresponding dis- tance from the other focus, is always the same, and equal to the major axis, no matter on what part of the circumference of the ellipse the point is situated. This properly enables us to draw the ellipse with ease, for we have merely to take a piece of silk the length of the major axis, fasten each end to a pin inserted in the foci of the ellipse, and pressing the point of a pencil against the piece of silk, move it along, keeping the silk tight. The distance of each focus of the ellipse from the centre, in parts of half the major axis, is called the eccentricity of the ellipse. If, therefore, the distance M P, or semi- major axis, as it is called, be 10, and the dis- 11 162 THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR, tance M S be 6, the eccentricity of the ellipse is said to be 0-6, or three-fifths. Having given this account of the curve called an ellipse, we can now explain Kepler's first law. It says that every planet moves round the sun in the circumference of an ellipse, and that the sun is placed in a focus of this ellipse. In fig. 23 suppose S to be the sun, then astro- nomers call the distance M P, or the mean distance of the planet; it is half the greater diameter of the ellipse, and they define the form of the ellipse by stating what is its mean distance, and what is its eccentricity or distance, S M, of the sun from its centre. When these two quantities are known, we can easily draw the ellipse in the manner shown above. The ellipse shown has an eccen- tricity of 0.25, and is nearly the shape of the orbit of Mercury. They also call that point of the ellipse P which is nearest to the sun the perihelion of the orbit of the planet; and the opposite point A, where the planet is farthest from the sun, is called the aphelion of the Orbit of the planet. These names can easily be remembered. This discovery of Kepler was a the evection discovered by Ptolemy, and the . variation and annual equation discovered by Tycho Brahé. These two famous laws were announced by Kepler in a great work published in 1609, and called “De Motibus Stellae Martis,” or, rather, that is the end of its long title, and is the name by which it is generally known. They were of immense value to astronomy, and laid the foundations for its subsequent great advance. Repler was not, however, content with these two laws, for he clearly saw that there must be some law connecting the distances of the planets and the time they took to move round the sun. The discovery of this law was the goal of his work, and encouraged by his success, he redoubled his efforts to discover this law. To determine the distance of a planet by direct observations from the earth was a very difficult operation, and no great accuracy could be expected ; but to find out the average time they took to go round the sun was very much easier, and if the law connecting these two could be discovered it would be easy to find the distances of the planets with great grand discovery, for it showed astronomers accuracy. The discovery of this law was not, what was the real orbit of however, to be made at once. a planet, and at once did Kepler imagined all sorts of away with all those com- laws connecting the distance plicated hypotheses by which and period of revolution of the earlier astronomers had the planets, and carefully tried to explain the motion tested all these laws by a of a planet. But this was laborious comparison with the not all; it was also necessary p º º A. result of Tycho Brahé's ob- to know at what rate the S’ servations; but not one proved planet moved in this orbit. to be correct. Years went Did it move steadily round by, and still his efforts were always at the same speed, or unsuccessful. Nine years were did it move rapidly in one spent in this labour ; and part and slowly in another? then, on the 8th May, 1618, This also was answered by he succeeded, and triumph- Kepler by his discovery of his ID antly announced his third second law, which says:— FIG. 23. famous law — II. That a line joining the planet and the sun sn'eeps over equal areas in equal times. The meaning of this law is shown by fig. 24, where S W is a line joining the sum and planet, or, as it is called, the radius vector of the planet. Now, according to Kepler's second law, the planet would move over the spaces W C and A P in equal times, because the shaded area enclosed between the two lines S W and S C is equal to the area enclosed between the two lines SA and SP. From the figure it is evident that the planet moves fastest when near the Sun and slowest when far from the SUIIł. Not only did these laws account for the motion of the planets, with their alternate slow and quick motion, but they accounted to a certain extent for the motion of the moon, inasmuch as they explained why Hipparchus' second table was required. The motion of the node and perigee of the moon showed that the ellipse in which the moon moved was not stationary, like that of the planets, but was slowly moving in periodical revolutions. Kepler was unable to account for the other inequalities in the motion of the moon—namely, Kepler's second law. III. That the squares of the periods of revo- lution of the planets are in the same proportion to each other as §: S the cubes of their mean distances **** from the sun. This law requires no illustration, and shows that a planet which is twice as far as another will require w/(2)*= w8=2.83, or nearly 24 times as long a period to revolve round the sun. Twenty-six years had been spent by Kepler in these researches, but he had his reward in the discovery of those three famous laws which regulate the motions of the planets, and which have served as the groundwork of modern theo- retical astronomy. And it is well worthy of notice that it was by the assiduous study of that very planet Mars, which had been his great trouble, from its motion being inconsistent with his earlier hypotheses, that Kepler was able to deduce the true laws which regulate the motions of the members of the solar system, and so ren- der his name immortal as one of the grandest discoverers the world has seen. Yet, like all grand discoveries destined to revolutionise Science, these famous results of Kepler did not meet with general attention. Men do not like to have to change opinigns they have long A WCIEWT HISTORY. 163 held, and which are sanctioned by the great names of their predecessors. The greatest prac- tical astronomer of the time, Gassendi, of Aix in France, did not attach much importance to these discoveries. Many refused to credit them; others, like Riccioli, undervalued them. Bullialdus was the first to introduce them into practical astronomy, and Horrocks was the first to properly appreciate their value. The succeeding generation of astronomers recog- nised their importance, and led by Hevelius, Huygens, and Picard, universally adopted them. The next advance in astronomy was of a different nature, yet of the highest importance. In Tuscany, in Northern Italy, was living at this period the celebrated philosopher Galileo Galilei. Born at Pisa in 1564, he rendered his name famous by his great discoveries, in mechanical science, in what is now known as statics and dynamics. In the spring of 1609 Galileo was staying in Venice, when he learned from a friend that a Dutch instrument-maker had succeeded in making a telescope, by which g distant objects appeared much Galileº and larger. On his return to Padua, the teleºpe, where he was then living, he become more distant, and so look smaller, whilst more of the enlightened side of the planet would be rendered visible. Soon half the illuminated hemisphere of the planet would become visible, and the amount which would be Seen of the bright side of the planet would go On increasing until when farthest e from the earth, practically, the Phases of Venus whole disc would be seen like the full moon. Of course, under these conditions the planet would appear beyond the sun, and generally So close as to be invisible; but at times it might be seen either over the sun or under it. As the planet moved on in its orbit exactly the reverse phenomena would occur, as shown by the figure. The advocates of the theory quite saw the truth of this, but replied that these planets might exhibit phases, but that we might not be able to see them. Not a very satisfactory answer, though as it is really the fact. When, therefore, Galileo had made his large telescope, he turned it on Venus, and carefully studied the appearance of the planet. He commenced his observations in September, 1610, and the planet appeared like the moon at . its quarters, and gradually became more and, more crescent. He was soon obliged to stop a thought over the subject, and soon saw that the principle of this discovery must depend on the refraction of light by glass lenses. By experimenting with a convex lens and a con- cave lens fitted into a tube, he succeeded in his observations, for Venus was unfavourably - placed, but Galileo had seen enough to show - him that Venus did present phases resembling the moon. This he published in the form of ar, anagram. In the subsequent year Galileo was . making a telescope which magnified three times; this instrument created a great sensa- tion in Venice. Galileo next devoted his whole energies to making a much more powerful telescope, and proceeded to grind and polish lenses with which to construct one. After much labour, he succeeded in making One which magnified as much as eight times. Finally, by labour and perseverance, he was able to construct a telescope which magnified as much as thirty times, and it was with this instrument that his famous discoveries were made. Galileo at once turned his telescopes on the celestial bodies, and was rewarded by brilliant discoveries, thus inaugurating the magnificent series of telescopic investigations which have rendered physical astronomy so grand a science. Even with his smaller telescopes he observed a great difference in the appearance of the planets and the stars. The former appeared as distinct discs of sensible magnitude, whilst the latter were like very minute tiny glittering points, much smaller than they seemed to the naked eye. Up to this time the opponents of the theory of the revolution of the earth round the sun used to urge that if this theory were true, and the planets simply reflected the Solar light, the planets Mercury and Venus ought to show phases resembling the phases of the moon, and should vary much in size. This is quite true, as will be seen by a study of fig. 25. When Venus is between the earth and the sun, as at a, almost the entire body of the planet should be in shadow, and at most a tiny crescent of light be seen. As the planet moved round the sun first to b and then to c, and so on, it would enabled to resume his observations, and an- . nounced to the world that Venus presented the same phases as the moon—a great triumph for the Copernican theory. THE BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN EMPIRES.. (continued). AT a very remote period Babylonian wane. deters appear to have penetrated to more. northern regions near the head waters of the tWO great rivers, and to have established them- Selves there. The Biblical record in Genesis is that “Out of that land [Shinar, or Babylonia] Went forth Asshur, and builded Nineveh ; ” but the marginal, and probably the preferable, reading is, “he [Nimrod] went out into Assyria,” a name, perhaps, given to the district from Asshur, one of the five sons of Shem, If that reading is accepted, it would seem, from the concurrent evidence of inscriptions, that Nimrod himself established a city on colony at Assur, on the western bank of the Tigris, about two hundred and thirty miles north-west of Babylon, the site being now marked by the mounds of Shef-kat, or Kaleh- Shergat. Here was established the worship of Assur, or Asshur, who, in the fashion of the time, had been elevated to the rank of a demis 164 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. god. For two or three centuries Assyria was governed by “patesis,” or viceroys, who were subject to Babylonia, although probably they Soon achieved a practical independence. About 1850 B.C., a ruler named Ismi-Dagon emerges from the obscurity, and he appears to have reigned for about thirty years, and he was suc- ceeded by his son Samsi-vul. Another king of the same name, about twenty years afterwards, built some of the large temples, remains of º-º-º-º-º: - =### Érºss - ################# - ==== sº-ºº::=- * He was succeeded by Adasi, whose son and successor, Bel-bani, is described as a great Conqueror, and was claimed in later times as a national hero. The successor of Bel-bani, Assur-Zakir-esir, (about 1600 B.C.), was doubtless a powerful prince, ruling over an extensive district. His royal title indi- cated that he was the “lord of Countries,” and he probably excited the fear War with Babylonia, E. - º º: g- --> -- *-i- E---> -*- --- *º-º-º-ºwººm-º: É=== - É= INTERIOR QUADRANGLE OF ASSYRIAN PALACE. which have been discovered on the site of the city of Assur; and the name of a succeeding monarch, Tritak, is preserved in connexion with a temple known as “the House of Salva- tion,” presumably in commemoration of an escape from Some great danger. It is inferred from later inscriptions that an independent kingdom was established by Bel-kapkapu about 1700 B.C., near the time when Khammuragas was overrunning the southern kingdom; but no Tecords of his achievements are known to exist, or jealousy of Babylonia, then governed by the successor of Khammuragas. Disputes between the two countries ripened into open war in the reign of Assur's successor, Ninip-tugul-assuri. Assyria maintained its independence, and be- coming apparently stronger by the contest, rose in power and importance. The names of four following kings are preserved, but there are no records of the events of their reigns, extending over nearly a century and a half. Treaties respecting the boundaries of the two ANCIEWT HISTORY. 165 empires appear to have been arranged, and about 1400 B.C. a royal marriage united Mu- ballidat-Serua, daughter of Assur-ubahd, king of Assyria, to the king of Babylonia. This marriage, as we shall See, like some other royal marriages arranged for political purposes, did not produce all the results desired, but led to confusion and anarchy. Under Assur-ubahd (“Assur gave life’’), a king of great valour and energy, the Assyrian empire was gradually extended, several small adjacent territories being absorbed. The only enemy to be feared was Egypt, the warlike monarch of which penetrated eastward to the borders of Babylonia and Assyria ; but Assur maintained his empire intact against the as- saults of the great armies of the Pharaohs. He greatly adorned Nineveh, and rebuilt with splen- dour the temple dedicated to the mythical Ishtar. About 1380 B.C., the son of the Assyrian princess and the king of Babylonia ascended the throne of the latter empire. His name was read by Mr. George Smith as Kara-hardas, but the Rev. Mr. Sayce is of opinion that the true reading is Kara-Muradas, “Servant of the god Muradas” (Bel). At that time an important section of the Babylonian population was a people known as Kassu, probably descended from the tribe in the north of Elam, to which the conqueror Khammuragas belonged. The Kassu were jealous of the Assyrian influence, strengthened by the accession of a monarch of Assyrian blood, and instigated a revolt, which led to the murder of the king and setting up in his place Nazi-bugas, unconnected with the reigning family, and perhaps a popular leader who excited the people against the young king for the purpose of furthering his own ambitious purposes. This outbreak excited angry feelings in Assyria, the king of which at the time was Bel-nirari, son of Assur-ubalid, and uncle of the murdered King of Babylonia. With a great army he crossed the frontier, attacked Babylon, scattered the Kassu, killed the usurper, and placed on the throne a member of the Babylonian royal family, Kuri-galzu, who, however, does not seem to have pos- sessed much confidence in the friendliness of his allies, for he built a strong city, Dur- kuri-galzu, near the late Baghdad, to defend the northern part of his dominions. About 1350 B.C., there was a new monarch in each empire : Bel-nirari of Assyria was suc- ceeded by his son Budil ; and Khuri-galzu of Babylonia by his son Mili-sipak. Budil in- herited the martial spirit of his race, pene- trated into the mountainous regions to the east, and subdued the Turuki, Niri, and other tribes who had perhaps harassed his frontiers. The great palace in the capital, Assur, the earliest known royal residence in Assyria, was erected by him. He occupied the throne for twenty years, and was succeeded by his son, Vul-nirari I., another ruler of great energy and ambition. There was, indeed, a remarkable difference between the characters of the Assyrians and Babylonians, though kindred in race. The former were generally enterprising and warlike ; the latter peaceful and com- paratively indolent. Vul-nirari invaded and ravaged the northern part of the Babylonian dominion, and captured several of the cities. The young king of Babylonia, Merodach- boladam I., who succeeded his father about five years after Vul-nirari had become king of Assyria, was unable to offer effectual resis- tance to the more energetic monarch, who, besides his Babylonian conquests, overcame the Subari, a people on the north of his dominions. After a successful and brilliant reign of thirty years, Vul-nirari was succeeded (1300 B.C.) by Shalmaneser, who inherited some of his warlike and aggressive disposition, annexing the region around the head-waters of the Tigris, and defeating the Muzri (probably the Egyptians, who had made considerable advances into Asia); but is even more conspicuous for architectural than military achievement. He added to the old royal palace at Assur, which his father had already enlarged and beautified; and founded a palace at Nineveh, to which city he transferred the royal residence, making it the new capital of his dominion in place of Assur. In Nineveh he restored the temple of Ishtar, and about eighteen miles to the south built a new city, Kalah, the remains of which are now the modern Turkish village Selamiyeh. Shalmaneser was succeeded, after a reign of twenty-nine years, by his son Tugulti-ninip, in whose reign a war broke out with. Babylonia, apparently caused by a frontier dispute. The Assyrian king entered the country, defeated Nazi- marudas II., the Babylonian monarch, con- quered the entire country, and became abso- lute monarch of all the country from the mountains of Armenia to the Persian Gulf. He assumed the proud title of “ King of Nations, King of Sumir and Akkad ; ” but continued to reside at Nineveh, where he further adorned the temple of Ishtar. It is difficult to trace the course of events at this period. There is no connected history, and we are dependent on such information as scattered and fragmentary inscriptions afford. It would appear that an Assyrian, Tiglath- Adar, was placed on the Babylonian throme as a tributary king ; and during the thirty years of the reign of Tugulti-minip, Babylonia was practically an Assyrian province. But the great king died, and his successor, Bel-kudur- uzur, was a weak ruler : the then king of Baby- lonia, supported, no doubt, by the national feeling, declaring himself independent, assumed the aggressive ; and in the war that followed, the king of Assyria was killed (1220 B.C.). The previously great and coherent empire was weakened ; there were domestic as well as foreign troubles, and the reign of the new king, Ninip-pal-eser, a period of twenty years, was marked by depression and disasters. The Hittites and other tribes who had been reduced to vassalage by former monarchs revolted, and overran and annexed some of the northern and western provinces of the empire. The Assyrian arms, however, were more successful against the king of Babylonia, who entered the territory and endeavoured to obtain possession of Assur, the ancient capital, but was defeated and compelled to retreat to his own country. Conquest of Babylonia. 166 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. º §§ §Nº WI. THE ARTICLE (continued).--THEORY. EXERCISE IX. Put into English :— 1. Des fruits, des amandes, des noisettes, de #&: §-- | §i :i 3.º º> almonds hazel-muts ia faine et du gland Sont la nourriture beech-muts O CO7°)2S joo ordinaire de l'écureuil. 2. Parce que je n'ai wsual squirrel because pas de licteurs, en Suis-je moins Sylla 7 3. - lictors (for if) the less Sulla. , , Les Troglodytes ressemblaient plus à des bêtes cave dwellers were resembling beasts qu'à des hommes. 4. Autant de têtes, autant than heads d’avis. 5. Elle n'a ni parents, ni support, ni opinions richesse. 6. La terre ressemble à de grandes earth resembles tablettes oil chacun veut écrire son nom. tablets on which every one wishes to write his name ‘7. On ne fait jamais de bien à Dieu en faisant does Service by causing du mal a ses créatures. 8. Proposons - nous harm his let ws propose to ourselves de grands exemples à imiter plutót que de imitate rather than vains systèmes à suivre. 9. Plus de grandeur ollow. . greatness contient plus de néant. 10. Beaucoup de contains nothingness, tº gens promettent, peu Savent tenir. people promise know how to perform. Turn into French :— 1. All the lakes of (the) upper Italy are, Tous bacs haute Italie (f.) like those of (the) Switzerland, (some) hollow *201727??& Cé10.30 Suisse (f.) * crewses glens wherein the waters of the mountains * vallées ov €0.2/33 montagmes accumulated, until they met in 8e sont accumulées jusqu’à ce qu’elles aient remcontré dams the belt of (the) rocks and (of the) earth, ceinture (f.) 'rochers terres (pl.) the outlet by which they escaped, in échancrure par on, elles se sont échappées en giving rise to (some) rivers. Those of the donnant naissance jleuves. Certa, peninsula, on the contrary, filling up (some) Apéninsule (f.) Cººl, contraire remplissant old craters or (some) basins enclosed between ancien8 cratéres ow bassins encaisses entre (Some) mountains have no natural channels º m'ont point “maturels "dmissaires and often threaten to inundate, after (the) < "souvent 'menacent d’inomaler après long rains or ſyſtem the snomy melts (at the longwes pluies melting of the Snows) the neighbouring jonte (f.) newges & * voisines lands. 2. How can One, with reference to *campagnes. Comment peut-on jº rapport God and even to (the) humanity, keep so méme e humanité (m.) garder much gold, so much silver, 80 many goods and O4° argent chattels (so many movables, so many meubles precious stones), amidst (at the middle of) the pierreries * milieu (m) extreme misery of the poor by which we eactºrême misère pauvres (pl.) dont O72 were overwhelmed in these latter times 7 était accable dams ces dermiers temp3? THE NOUN.—THEORY. 1. The noum, or substantive is a word which names persons, animals or things: André, Andrew, poisson, fish, pomme, apple. 2. There are two classes of nouns : (a) com- 'mon, and (b) proper. a. Common nouns are applicable to all per- Sons, animals or things of the same kind ; a being presenting certain dimensions and fea- tures will be called garçon, boy, or un chien, a dog ; an object assuming a given shape will be known under the name montagne, a mountain. b. Proper nouns are applicable to a particular person, animal, or thing, to distinguish them from all others of the same species : André, Andrew, Azor, a dog's name, le Vésuve, Vesu- vius. Although there may be several boys called André, and several dogs called Azor, yet these are not terms applicable to a whole species: on seeing a being of a certain form we shall not say, Ah / voici un André, voilà um Azor / here is an Andrew ; there is an Azor 3. A third class of nouns may be mentioned : the collective nouns; which, although singular in form, present to the mind the idea of Imany—such as armée, army, foule, crowd, peuple, people, etc. In English this class of words requires attention, as the verb following is put in the singular or plural according to attending circumstances, and sometimes taste. In French these words present no difficulty unless they are followed by their complement—that is, a noun depending on them and completing their meaning. Then the question is to know whether the accompany- ing verb is to agree with the collective noun or with its complement. If the collective be general—that is, implying the totality of the objects designated—the yerb agrees with it. If the collective be partitive—that is, embracing only a portion of the objects referred to—the verb agrees with the complement. La foule des étoiles annonce 8a pwissance, the multitude of stars announces his power; la foule here is a general col- lective, and the verb agrees with it because it possesses the leading thought. Une foule d'étoiles brillent tous les soirs ant-dessus de mos tétes, a crowd of stars shime every evening above our heads; wºme foule here is a partitive collective, and the verb agrees with the complement because the latter contains the leading thought. A general collective noun is recognised by the article le, la, which precedes it ; the partitive collective is usually preceded by un, wºme. 4. Nouns offer the distinctions of (A) gender and (B) number. - The gender has already been referred to in Lesson I., 4 ; and under the heading of Adjec- tives will be shown what modifications nouns undergo when passing from the masculine to the feminine. The following rules, which are given for reference and not for immediate com- mitting to memory, mark how the gender of a noun may be ascertained from its termination. FIRST RULE.—All nouns ending in a con- Sonant are masculine, except those ending in eur, ion, or included in the subjoined list, which are feminine : in f: la cléſ, the key, la méf, the nave, la, soif, thirst. in ºn : la faim, hunger. in aim : la main, the hand (1 exception out of 66 cases). in in : la fin, the end (1 exc. out of 240 cases). in on ; la boisson, drink, la chanson, Song, la cloison, partition, la cuisson, cook- ing, la façon, fashion, la foison, plenty, la garnison, garrison, la guérison, cure, la laideron, plain girl, la legon, lesson, la maison (and all in aison), house, la moisson, harvest, la mousson, monsoon, la, pamoison, Swooning, la prison, prison, la rançon, ransom, la toison, fleece, la trahison, treason. (These are out of more than 400 cases.) in er: la cuiller, the spoon, la me?', the Sea (2 exc. out of several hundred cases). in air : la chair, the flesh or pulpit (1 exc. Out of 17 nouns). in oir : la balançoiſ', the Swing. in our ; la cour, the court, la tour, the tower (2 exc. out of 28 cases). in s : la brebis, the sheep, la fois, the time, les maeuſ's, the morals, la souris, the mouse, la vis, the screw (5 exc. Out of 127 nouns). in et la forêt, the forest (1 out of 300). in wit: la muit, the night (1 out of 15). in ot: la dot, the dowry (1 out of 110). in gent: la dent, the tooth, la gent, the race, la jument, the mare (3 out of several hundred). in art : la hart, the halter, la part, the por- tion (2 out of 20). in ort : la mort, death (1 out of 15). in ia : la perdria, the partridge (1 out of 11). in aia: ; la paia, peace. in auto la chauai, the lime, 7a fauaº, the Scythe. in our ; la touac, the cough (1 Out of 9). in oir : la croia, the cross, la noia, the nut, la poia, pitch, la voia, the voice (4 out of 5, the masc. Inoun being le choia’, the choice). N.B. Both in the above and the following lists, only the words of common occurrence are given ; to crowd them with technical terms would confuse the learner; therefore the figures given in brackets are only approa'imately correct. SECOND RULE. —Nouns ending in a vowel other than e mute are masculine — all in a alm opéra, an opera, um gala, a high- day; except a few foreign terms, as la polka, la mazurka. all in i : un étui, a case ; except foi, faith, fourmi, ant, loi, law, merci,” mercy, paroi, wall. all in o : un écho, an echo. all in u: un fichu, a kerchief; except eanſ, Water, glu, glue, peau, skin, tribu, tribe, vertu, virtue. all in y : jury, jury. all in 3 : le thé, tea. (For nouns in té and tié, see next rule.) * Merci, thanks, is masculine : ce tableau ne m'a coilté qu'un grand merci. wº º º Fºxºº. Cºrsº ºxº - s: º, g *TC. º * - 3 º ge * QºY} RºSIt Bººst ºf ſº d ºº:: º º º Fº ºw. sº §: *Nº. B THE LEAVES. No portion of the vegetable fabric presents greater diversity of character than the leaf, nor with any part are there connected more interesting phenomena and associations. It is to the leaves of plants, much more than to their flowers, that the vegetable beauty of a landscape is referable. In every genuine garden, foliage is accounted quite as necessary as gay blossom ; and more is involved than the ordinary use of the term presupposes, in the appellation given of old to the abode provided for tender plants, still emphatically called the greenhouse. The forms of leaves, the general shapes, are beyond counting. Every geometrical outline, except the absolute Square and Tectangular oblong, has illustrations, more or less exact. The dimensions vary from the merest point, an almost indistinguishable atom, as in the Cypress-tree, up to a length and breadth of many feet ; and as Tegards length, of many yards, as in the date-palm. The colour, though Ordinarily some shade of green, varies not uncommonly, in part, to a rich crimson, as in certain species of Dracaena ; or wholly to a deep purple, as in Some of the ornamental kinds of beet. No short descriptive phrase can be contrived, accordingly, for the leaf in general, as regards externals. It remains true, nevertheless, that in the inmost structure and in the functions, there is close and ad- mirable agreement. So beautifully does the ancient axiom reassert itself, that Nature, truly scanned, is found keeping to a few Original old melodies, played in a thousand different keys; the same old thoughts uttered in a thousand different tongues. A leaf such as that of an Oak or Apple-tree, when held up between the eye and the light, is seen to be traversed in every part by delicate lines, which, ...; commencing in strong ones, gra- * i. .." dually become more and more attenuated, and continually touch and interlace. These lines indicate threads of “woody fibre,” associated with which are minute sap-vessels. They represent what in the human frame we call the skeleton and the veins, with the differ- ence that while the animal parts are inde- pendent of one another, in the leaf they are intimately associated. So plain is the resem- blance, that, by one of the innumerable easy and spontaneous metaphors which pervade human speech, viewed in the living leaf they are familiarly termed by the identical name of “veins”; and when the soft part has decayed, and nothing remains but dry and inanimate network, by another similar metaphor, the “skeleton.” Art has now for a long time devoted itself to the artificial preparation of “ skeleton leaves.” Nothing can be imagined more exquisite than the simulacra, procured 168 THE UAVIVEIRSA I, IWSTR UCTOI8. from different species of Ficus, from ivy leaves, and many others in which the Woody fibre is strong and enduring, and in which the cellular tissue is specially perishable. Here, however, as happens so often in our contemplation of works of human skill, it is after all only an imitation of what nature has been in the habit of doing ever since the world was possessed of holly and poplar trees. In the month of March, wherever black poplars abound, the little runnels in the meadows Supply hundreds of similar skele- tons, marred as to beauty, no doubt, by the irregu- larity of the process of skeletonizing, but still the same thing essen- tially; and under old holly trees the supply is often quite as copious. When leaves are ex- tremely fleshy and succulent, and particularly when they seem to be little more than bags of watery juice, the veins are not distinguishable. That veins exist is nevertheless declared quite plainly when such leaves are slowly desiccated. One of the very attractively quaint and excep- tional among our English wild-flowers is the dimple-wort—Cotyledon Umbilicus—a denizen of old limestone walls. So long as the atmo- sphere is fairly moist, the round green leaves, flatexceptforthe dimple in the centre, are so heavily charged with sap, that if squeezed between the fingers the moisture runs down in a stream. Let them be parched by an unusually fervent July, and they change to filmy disks that now show most beautiful reticulation. How constant is the salutary reminder one gets, while in pursuit of field botany, that before concluding from first appearances, it is truest wisdom in all things to “wait a wee.” The interstices of the network of fibres are filled up with very delicate cellular tissue, often loose and with un- occupied spaces inter- vening, and which to a certain extent also envelopes the fibres. Unprotected, this delicate substance would soon be destroyed by the heat of the sun. To defend it, both surfaces of the leaf are covered with a membranous skin or cuticle, which may often be stripped off in large pieces. Try the experiment with a leaf of the common houseleek, cutting through the §º: - & º *2Ž & Aff ºBºº§º gº ę º º 3 Ştº f ºgº-ºº: S-3 %" Kºš.g. §§ FIG. 26,-COMPOUND LEAF. º Vº --> º Kö º 2:SS W. § tº jºy & ºt Sº *Nº. 3 SS WS Nºzzº SS º ſº º º º Ö º Sºrºscºs * FIG. 27.-CUPRESSUS FASTIGIATA, skin transversely and very gently with a sharp penknife, then ripping it off longitudinally. In the cuticle are innumerable minute openings called the “stomata,” by means of which the vital processes of the leaf, in their relation to the atmosphere, are carried on (fig. 28). The leaves of endogenous plants, or those which have no distinct pith, Wood, and bark to the stem, and which are usually destitute of branches, are veined in a manner different from those of exogens. Usually a stream runs from base to apex, the central por- tion perfectly straight, with veins to the right and left, which are more or less curvilinear. All start from the base with the intention of re-uniting at the apex ; all to the right and left are obliged to take more or less of a curve in order to get there, and the result is a most exquisitely symmetrical dualism of concave lines, with perfect convergence at the upper extremity. The leaf of the Lily of the Walley supplies a very good example. So does that of its near relative, the Solomon's Seal. In grasses, which are strictly endogenous, this beautiful kind of venation is also well exhibited, though in the very narrow-leaved species after a slightly different manner, the veins being much more nearly parallel. The leading veins of endo- genous leaves never touch while upon their way to the apex. There is never the slightest approach to network like that of exogenous leaves; the intervening spaces are crossed, never- theless, by subordinate veins, ordinarily placed nearly at right angles, or at very obtuse angles, to the large ones. In One Tather considerable section of endogens— that which is consti- tuted of the families having for their types the banana, the Indian- shot, and the ginger- plant—there is a very elegant modification of the curvilinear. A powerful midrib goes right away from base to apex; and right and left of it, all along, a steady outward flow of veins moves in a wavy manner towards the margins, reaching which they bend upwards, or some- thing after the manner of the elements of a bird’s feather. Many terms have been applied to these B O TA WY. 169 different kinds of venation. That of exogenous leaves is best described by the simple word “netted,” or “reticu- lated.” In special forms of ex- ogenous leaves, a qualifying adjective is some- times required, as when certain passion-flowers are said to have !\{i}| “palminerved” leaves. Certain | | maples also are said to be “fan- º - ſº Terms applied to venation. ſº f | veined,” and the Corylaceae to be “penninerved "; but “netted ” is ordinarily quite enough. The lºſiſ). t | term usually bestowed on the veining in endogens is unfortu- º Pately a very deceptive one. It is customary to call it “parallel,” | or “straight”; but parallelism º } | implies, that the lines are per- *|||}| manently equidistant, instead of being, as in the leaves in ques- FIG. 23. STOMA tion, Sedulously convergent. Better therefore to say that it is “curvilinear,” or “apicular.” The leaves of the bananas, etc., | are best called “fe a t he I - veined.” Now and then it hap- pens that ex- ogens have curvilinearve- nation, as well shown in the broad-leaved species of the Epacridaceae. The Dam- maras among the Coniferae are also con- spicuous ex- e - © amples of the combination of the curvilinear, with distinct Wood, S FIG. 29.-SIMPLE LEAF. bark, and pith. On tº TS the contrary, several - of the indian lilies, sº otherwise command- § - - ** ing examples of the jºr *~\ #y Z endogenous type, sº-º-º-º- SA-º- have netted veins; & \{\\\. ^, rºº-º-º: and in the Araceae S$z pyl § §y the tendency towards …” ºf RNR: - - -NY/ network is always º &\y\S very marked. These occur almost e exclusively Yº..." in certain **** families of the flowerless, or more correctly speaking, the cryptogamic plants; mosses and selaginellas Supply examples. 223:2 |\! MA. G. NIFIED e ºsºvº \ - A / . sº º w & % > WNNA º A - ºn tº 26 - º 2% N - § %sº *ś ent idea, being the seat of the fructification. Hence these parts are very properly dis- tinguished by the name of “fronds.” Their veining is often quite peculiar. In all the British ferns, and in vast numbers of the exotic species, instead of producing net- work, and instead of being cur- | vilinear, the primary veins fork at | their extremities, and each of the prongs, after proceeding a little | | l | ſ) § distance, forks again. Occasionally, as in the Maidenhairs, this re- capitulated forking becomes very striking and characteristic. In : | : | * #|| any case, among these “fork-veined” |||}| | ferns the fibres go right away ! |# to the margin, never approaching, º (jū; never introducing network. Ar- \ | rived there, they remind one of a TES, HIGHLY man whose Onward Walk is Sud- denly checked by a precipice he knew not of. He is brought to a full stop ; and in the case of the fern all is now finished. One plant Only is known with forked veins that is §§ Inot a fern— - w the very cu- rious Japanese tree, not un- COrmmon in English gar- É| dens, called # / the Salisburia, t The first great fact in relation to the shape or out- FIG. 30.—NET-VEINED & line of leaves, a UV s "TAv Iy L * LEAF. is that they are either “simple” or “compound.” A sim- ple leaf, such as that º of the oak or apple TNSNSNSSNſ \--" - -ºšº & - *- º º \ zº * Sºº tree, consists of a blade, or “lamina,” with its stalk Or “petiole,” the latter very variable in length in different plants. Frequently no petiole is deve- loped, in which case the lamina is said to \\\\\ be “sessile.” Com- ºr pound leaves, on the other hand, are con- stituted of two, three, four, five, or a larger and often indefinite number of relatively small blades, called “leaflets,”articulated in different ways, as ) \\º - §§ º Popularly, the -- - S- Nº. to position, to a stalk beautiful green FIG. 31.—LINDEN TREE. common to the whole. - growth Fig. 29 represents the Venation of of the Fern counts as a leaf. But simple and petiolate leaf of the mallow; and * however leaf-like, as viewed from fig. 26 the compound leaf of an Acacia, above, the under-surface presents quite a differ- I Compound leaves are very rarely sessile. 170 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. The forms of simple leaves are innumer- able, Tanging from the needle-shape, as in Thrift, up to the oval and circular, as in the common Pondweed and the garden Nasturtium. The outline is of course determined in great measure by the character of the venation, just as the figure of an animal comes in the main of the propor- tionate length of its principal bones. The kangaroo, the horse, the pig, and the giraffe are all quadrupeds, and the archetype of their respective skeletons is the same as that of the biped man ; yet how unlike are they in com- parative length of limbs, and in general profile of body The most usual idea of venation in the leaves of exogens is that which commences with the strong midrib proceeding from the base of the lamina to the tip, and giving rise to many subordinate veins, which either meander away indeterminately, as in a poplar leaf, or else strike out in straight and often almost parallel lines, to the margin, as in the chestnut, and then not uncommonly run beyond it, so as to render the edge prickly. When the primary veins meander, the venation is said to be “deliquescent.” Beautiful is the resem- blance then borne by these primaries and their im- mediate branches to a great river with its afflu- ents. The fewer, the shorter, and weaker the primaries are, so much the narrower will be the leaf. When they run out ener- getically, it becomes so much the broader; and according to the multi- plication and the distri- bution of the ultimate branchlets, the general outline will be linear, elliptical, ovate, circular, or triangular, more or less. Sometimes there is a sudden arrest of the onward progress of the midrib, the primary veins pursuing their way as usual, and then we have the very singular shape presented in the leaves of the Tulip-tree, Liriodendron tulipifera, which appear to have had their extremities cut off. A very frequent condition is that one observable in “lobed” and “incised” leaves, such as those of the oak and the dandelion. This comes of the pri- rmaries being ill-sustained in the distance by tributaries, the result of which must needs be gaps and Spaces. Nature takes advantage of this—her own doing in the first place—by giving to the “incised " and “pinnatifid” class of leaves a most wonderful and beautiful variety of indent. Sometimes we have a series of large and regular angles, as in certain Banksias ; Sometimes huge promontories, those on the two opposite margins of the leaf by no means invariably corresponding. In many leaves these seeming fissures extend all the way to the midrib ; and not infrequently the lamina is so much divided and subdivided as Simple leaves. FIG. 32.-PIN NATIFID LLAVES. to require the appellation of “doubly pinna- tifid.” A plant generally keeps to its own prescribed outline in the matter of leaf. But Nature positively refuses to bind herself by any inflexible rules, and never perhaps dis- closes a more entertaining and perplexing waywardness than in various species of the lovely genus Scabiosa and its near ally, the Knautia, both illustrated abundantly in our native flora. The charming little Dove's-foot Scabious, and the common blue Knautia of the cornfields, produce at first leaves which in outline are very similar to those of the willow-tree. The flower-stems rise to a maxi- mum height of rarely more than two feet, and are singularly bare of foliage; yet before the blossoms expand, leaves have been developed below, which present every gradation, and in the most easy and nonchalant manner, between the willow type and the extremest pinnatifid. Plenty of plants might be named in which leaves of different shapes co-exist. Almost every form of simple leaf distin- guished by botanists may be observed in a set of a dozen specimens of the East Indian Karivia. Over and above the in- ºx tellectual treat supplied SJ by the contemplation of this most curious sportive- ness, there is the useful lesson in it, not to be overlooked, that in seeking to determine specific dif- ferences, it never does to depend too much, or in- deed at all, upon leaf- shape ; nor, in truth, upon any one set of organs— not even the flowers and fruit. Men are only told by the aggregate of what is in them. Why should we expect anything different in plants, which have been moulded and fashioned by the same Divine hand, and in their natures there- fore correspond with mankind, composite always, and never to be judged of by a single feature? THE STUDENT As SUBJECT. BY ROBERT SOMERS. THE student is by nature a patriot, and yet is bound by his studies to become more and more a citizen of the world. The sense of being Subject to anything not being one of his most lively senses, he is prone even as a patriot to rebel, to be a revolutionist, to overturn some- thing within or without the walls of his col- lege; while as a citizen of the world, being THE FRIENDI, Y COUNSELLOR, sº- open to new ideas, and everything to which he has not been particularly accustomed, it is doubtful whether his rebellion will take the form of the blindest conservatism, or the most adventurous reform. The student as a subject, whether of the general demos of a republic, or of a constitutional king, or a despotic emperor, is thus one of the most anomalous specimens of the genus homo. One would be glad to think of him as a rocking-stone, swaying gently to and fro on an assured equilibrium. But the difficulty is to determine his proper base, or whether in the first ardour of his studies he can have any base, and may not be a wandering star passing quite away out of his solar system, only to return to it at Some distant and incalculable period. It would be vain to deny to youth its pre- rogative of innovation. Youth bas been the eternal spring of humanity; and, like the spring of nature, it has always had a sufficiency of winter on its shoulders. It is the manner of the thing, rather than the thing itself, with which one can have to do. But has the student, it will be asked, any immediate concern with his relations to the State at all ! I should think he has ; and whether he has or not, it is certain he will take concern with them in One form or other. There is a curious custom in the Scottish Universities, where the students, undergradu- ates, divide themselves into Liberals, Conser- vatives, and Independents—after the fashion of the older citizens—and nominating candi- dates from among the eminent statesmen of the time, elect a Lord Rector with all the noise, fury, and faction of a parliamentary contest. This institution has been much ques- tioned and sometimes ridiculed, and I am not aware that there is anything quite like it in seats of learning elsewhere. But it has had the advantage at least of keeping the political sympathies of the students within the limits of the constitutional parties of the country; and as the harangue of the Lord Rector elect, which is almost the only return to the students for the honour they have done him, seldom de- scends to the political controversies of the moment, but is usually directed to Some ele- wated theme of universal interest, it may be supposed to improve the minds, and contribute to the political education of those who are to be the future citizens of a free country. So far as the Scottish custom subserves these ends, it must be allowed to tend to results, not always easily attained, yet highly desirable in the character of students as subjects. It is not desirable that young men should either, on the one hand, have SQ poor an esti- mate of their own country, or of its institutions, as to be ready to fly into the arms of any foreign propagandism, or fanciful admiration of foreign ways of government; or, on the other, that they should allow their natural patriotism to carry them into the bigotry of £hinking that, as regards their own country, “whatever is, is right,” and that everything contained therein is the best of its kind. Stu- dents who are wise, indeed, will not be in haste to entertain strong party convictions of any stamp. The immaturity of mind with which young men sometimes declare that they could be anything in the world but “a Tory,” or “a Radical,” or “a Whig,” is very apparent to those who hear them, and is always painful to think of. The game of politics is a long one, is curiously involved, and is not likely to be apprehended or unravelled by a youthful glance, however keen, or by a partisan view, however sincere. It is seldom, indeed, to whatever party one adheres, that reason is not soon found to differ from the party in some things, and to become somewhat dubious of party as a centre alto- gether. It is often experienced to be a cold, selfish, Over-riding, and almost brutal force. The consequence is that the changes of party made in our own day and generation by states- men and politicians of the front rank, and men accordingly of naturally clear and strong minds, have been almost as diverting as they are instructive ; and yet changes of this kind are never wholly happy. It is certainly better to grow up slowly into a rational stability. The attitude most becoming a student, thelefore, I think, without implying political indifferentism, or refusing temperate sway to one's leanings and convictions, such as they may be, is this : that parties are only figures on the chess- board, and that what the State is, and what its spirit and tendencies have been, are the outcome of the common inter-movement, re- quiring patient observation to trace it in all its bearings as a guide for the present and the future. If an understanding of the constitution, laws, and political action of one's own country be thus a work of some difficulty, it is hardly to be supposed that the relative merits of foreign states, and their modes of government and political artifices are to be quickly compre- hended. One has to be on guard against various kinds of foreign contagion. It startles us still to read of the fervour with which the Great Revolution in France was hailed over nearly all Europe, and the disgust in which it was re- garded immediately afterwards. Wordsworth, for example, who of one year could write— ** Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven I O times | In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways Of custom, law, and statute, took at once The attraction of a country in romance ’’ And of the next ten and more could add— --Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount : no code, No master spirit, no determined road ; But equally a want of books and men l’’ So, also in these tamer times, it is not un- usual to hear British subjects professing ardent admiration of the Republican institu- tions of the United States; and on passing across the Atlantic to heat American citizens longing for the more temperate liberty and keener honour of the British Monarchy. There are certain broad lines of government on which conviction can scarce hesitate a moment. It is impossible for any British youth not to sympa- thise with all free and constitutional States, monarchical or republican, and to observe, --~~~~~ * ~ * *- 172 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. with glowing interest the social and political development by which nations, sunk under arbitrary power, approach a more just and noble system of rule. Yet even here are some pitfalls for the unwary; and experienced states- men, not to speak of young students, find it hard enough to thread their way, consistently with what may be their sincere convictions, through the maze of party politics. The political fact of all others, which the student has chiefly to remember, is, that he owes a great deal—nearly all that he is, or may hope to become in the future—to his country; and consequently, that, in the natural reciprocity of obligation, his country has very considerable claims upon him, in its concrete character solely as his country. All through life this should be kept in mind ; and the thought that whatever influence he may wield, and what reputation he may acquire, will increase the power and add to the honour of his native land, should inspire every right- thinking student to make the most of the opportunities at his command for fitting him- self to take a share in the active work of the world. But the student may have the most ardent passion of love for his country, and yet, from misunderstanding, his patriotism may take most unpatriotic-like forms of mani- festation. It is necessary at the least that he should observe the more ordinary laws of his country, as regards the common peace and order; venerate its respect for authority, for the calm and courteous discussion which in the most free and liberal States is the only method of progress; and weigh well the fact that a rule, whether within the walls of a college or a municipality, or extending over the whole commonwealth, is a rule until it has been reformed by all methods allowable, among which, of course, the more violent are at once the last and the worst in order. Above all, he should avoid such breaches of law as are beneath the morale of the common body of citizens, and are all but universally condemned, even though they may have been partly pro- voked. In these the student becomes lost in “the rowdy”—a species of character in which, there being no ability to teach, there is also no desire to learn, but only an animal impulse idly to disturb. t * º . . . . as ºf . o S. S. ...s 2 Eſſ ITTITU # S Jſ T. Tº . º º .. #1 ºA-T. rº ; ºr:-" Sºcº sº; SSS:2::"...s sº º T. ººr- - Šºš º' Nºs. º º ||f|ENGISHERMARTH º ÉE. ...sº (ſº sº.sº - . English till A.D. 1066. . Old English synthetical, And unmixed. . Introduction of Christianity: Latin. . Scandinavian invasions. e . English of tenth and eleventh centuries. . “English ’’ and “Anglo-Saxon.” . Norman Conquest. . Influence of French. . Persistence of English. § 35. The history of English in England, then, begins with the first settlement of the Jutes i (or Frisians ; the historian Bede speaks of the Jºhesones), about 449 A.D., in Kent ; the same tribe also took the Isle of Wight and a part of Hampshire. The Angles—who came from the Duchy of Schleswig, where there is a district which still bears the name of Angeln—at different times established kingdoms in East Anglia (Norfolk, Suffolk, Cambridgeshire and parts of two adjacent counties), Beornicia (between the Tweed and the Firth of Forth), Deira (between the Tweed and the Humber), and Mercia (comprehending the midland counties). The Saa.ons (A.D. 477) settled in Sussex, and sixty years more saw them in Essex and the important kingdom of Wessex. Thus by the beginning of the seventh century these tribes had obtained possession of the whole of the east side of the island as far north as the Firth of Forth (where in 620 King Edwin built Edinburgh), and extending south and west, included Wiltshire, Dorsetshire, and Somersetshire. They continued their combats against the original inhabitants, till a glance at the map in the tenth century shows that they had not only consolidated their power, but had pushed the Kelts into the present county of Cornwall, beyond the Severn, and in the north- west had confined them (for a time) in the Small kingdom of Strathclyde (Westmoreland, Cumberland, and the south-west counties of Scotland as far as the Clyde). In the year 924 they all were united under Edward, king of Wessex (son of Alfred the Great), who was thenceforth (and his successors after him) styled King of the Anglo-Saxons, or English— that is, of the nation formed by the union of the two. The English kings continued, with an interruption of but thirty years, till the year 1066. § 36. The language brought over by these Teutonic tribes was one and the same, with no greater differences than those of dialect. It was, firstly, an inflected language—to which, therefore, as standing among other languages, the term synthetical has been applied. The English of the present day is nearly uninflected, and is therefore termed analytical. By in- flea-ions are meant those additions to or changes in the form of a word which express the various relations in which it is used. An example will show this more clearly — Anglo-Saa.on or Present English. Old English. gód Smið (8=th) a good Smith. góde Smiče by a good Smith gódùm Smiðe for a good Smith. gódam Smičes of a good Smith. Here the endings or inflexions e, won, an, of the Word god, and e, e, es, of Smið, answer the purpose of the words by, for, and of, in the present English phrases; the ideas of the smith and the relation expressed by the word for are combined in one word Smiðe, the addition of wm shows the same sense for god in connection with smöe, hence we have synthesis or a placing together of ideas. A language formed upon this system is synthetical; while, on the other hand, when, in process of time, it has lost its inflexions and replaced the notions which they { JENGLISH GRAMMAR. - 1 73 expressed by separate words, we have analysis or a separation of parts, the language is described as analytical. Thus the Old English said in the single word drincan what we now mean by the two words, to drink ; and this kind of change forms one of the principal differences between ancient English and modern. § 37. Secondly, Old English in its first stages was an unmiased tongue; it owed nothing to the Latin or Greek. Our continental forefathers had dwelt remote from Roman civilization, and had not been touched by Roman armies or colonies. But during this period of about 600 years of Old English dominion a great nation- ality was formed, the strong language ripened, it underwent certain changes and modifications, absorbed a number of foreign elements, and grew under the use of an enterprising and self- educating race to a considerable pitch of literary culture. § 38. Two events had great influence on the language during this period : (a) the introduc- tion of Christianity by St. Augustine (A.D. 596) brought the people into connection with the Latin Church; the priests spoke Latin, English- men were sent abroad to be educated for the service of the Church, and English writers translated Latin works into their own tongue ; so that by degrees many Latin words became familiar and passed into ordinary use. Foreign trade and travel brought in some new articles of daily use, trees, or animals, which kept their Latin names; and in the eleventh century the same causes, together with the desire for education abroad and the residence of Frenchmen at the court of Edward the Con- fessor, were the means of introducing several French terms into the language. § 39. (b) But before the Angle and Saxon kingdoms became settled under the headship of the Saxons of Wessex, northmen of Scandi- navia, from Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, began to harass their coasts. These tribes, who were known under the general name of Danes, made their first incursion (in 787) on the coast of Dorsetshire; during the next century they made frequent and successful invasions, so that in 878 King Alfred was forced to yield by treaty Northumberland, East Anglia, most of Essex and part of Mercia to the Danish chief. In the tenth century they gained some further footing; and finally, from 1013 to 1042, Danish kings ruled over all England. These successes were not enough to cast out the English, who became united in face of the common danger, and kept on winning back against their foes. Thus it was that the Danish speech did not displace the English, but, on the contrary, being very near akin to it (they all were of the Teutonic race), the people must have º understood one another, and the Inglish speech in those parts where the Danes made settlements became only partly modified by their language. The inflexions of English were affected, and many Danish words crept into the speech of the people, though not much used at first in the written language. It is a curious proof of the permanency of language among the classes of country people, where life remains somewhat stationary and custom is strong, that many Danish words are still to be found in the speech of our northern and western counties—Northumberland, Durham, Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cumberland, Lincoln, and Norfolk. Old northern writers of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, however, are full of words adopted from the Scandina- viala speech which have sinee gone out of use, or only survive in provincial use. $ 40. The English of the later part of this period may then roughly be described thus in two groups: in the east and north of England up to the Firth of Forth (thus giving the foundation of what we now call Scotch, which is truly an English dialect) it was English of the Angles, modified by the Danish element ; in the south and west, English of the Saxons and Jutes untouched by the Danish, and culti- vated as the literary language. § 41. It will be noticed that our old lan- guage of the first six hundred years has been carefully called English or Old English. It is commonly known as Anglo-Saxon, and there is no harm in the name if it is clearly understood that the term applies, not to a foreign or sepa- rate language, but merely to one stage or period in the unbroken history of the same tongue which we now use. Much hot discussion has taken place over the term, and it is safer, in order to avoid the danger of error from the misuse of names, to call the language during this period by the name of Old English. English was the name the tribes gave themselves, according to the Saaron Chronicle, and is there- fore the rightful and appropriate name from the first ; if at a later time their writers (Asser, in his Life of Alfred, A.D. 893, is said to have been the first) used the term Anglo-Saxon, it was in order to distinguish them from the old Saxons of the Continent, whom they had left behind. For “the language called Anglo- Saxon, spoken nowhere on the Continent, but the result here of a fusion of dialects, in its vocabulary and inflexions more strongly re- sembles the old Frisian than any other. It is much nearer to old Frisian than to old Saxon.” (H. Morley, Clement Marot, and other Studies, vol. ii., p. 263.) § 42. The Norman Conquest in 1066 forms the beginning of a new epoch in the history of English. In order to estimate rightly the great influence which this event had upon the lan- guage, a true notion must be had of the cha- racter of the conquest. It was not, like the settlement of the first English in Britain, an invasion and gradual subduing of one people by another, who imposed new laws, new religion, and new language, recognizing little or nothing of what they found before them. The coming of the Normans effected great changes; but the framework of Society, the backbone, so to speak, of the people, remained English, and reasserted itself after three centuries of repression. The Norman king came over to take what he deemed his right by law, and though he carried matters with a high hand, he was forced to swear that he would govern according to the laws of the land. In the words of the great historian of this period, “the whole importance of the t 174: THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, Norman conquest consists in the effect which it had on an existing nation, humbled indeed, but neither wiped out nor utterly enslaved—in the changes which it wrought on an existing constitution, which was by degrees greatly modified, but which was never either wholly abolished or wholly trampled under foot ; ” and he thus indicates what these changes were: “It brought with it not only a new dynasty, but a new nobility ; it did not expel or trans- plant the English nation, or any part of it, but it gradually deprived the leading men and families of England of their lands and offices, and thrust them down into a secondary position under alien intruders. It did not at once sweep away the old laws and liberties of the land ; but it at once changed the manner and spirit of their administration, and it opened thé way for endless later changes in the laws themselves. It did not abolish the English language; but it brought in a new language by its side, which for a while supplanted it as the language of polite intercourse, and which did not yield to the surviving elder tongue till it had affected it by the largest infusion that the vocabulary of one European tongue ever received from another.” (Freeman's History of the Worman Conquest, vol. i., pp. 2, 4.) - § 43. French now became the language of the upper classes; it was employed in the law, in the church, at court, in literature, in parlia- ment; even boys learned it at school. But the old English families, and the common people, who were numerically stronger than the Nor- mans, held on to their mother-tongue. We have an incidental proof of this in the fact that a proclamation of Henry III. in 1238, still existing, which was sent to every county, was made in English. Then in process of time (it was going on during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries) the two peoples settled down to- gether, they intermarried, learned each other's tongues, and became One ; and the language of the majority, richly increased by contact with the French, regained its sway in the land, and became in this altered state once more the tongue employed by all classes. At last Nor- man-French gradually died out, and ceased to be spoken in England. In 1362 (36 Ed. III.) an Act of Parliament ordered that proceedings in the courts of law should be in English, because the “French tongue is much unknown in the realm ;” yet though it was desired that “their laws and customs be learned and used in the tongue of the country,” some use of French lingered on so long that many proceedings in Parliament were recorded in that language for nearly a century later (25 Hen. VI., A.D. 1447), and the statutes continued to be drawn up in French till 3 Hen. VII., 1487.* In 1389, not thirty years after the Act of Ed- ward III., writs were issued for particulars to be given of the constitution and funds of the gilds among the people: out of nearly five hundred returns sent in to the Chancery from different parts of the country, only fifty-one * To this day the royal assent to Acts of Parliament is given in the old French words Le Roy le veult, or Soit fait come il est desiré. —w were in English, between thirty and forty were in French, and the rest in Latin. § 44. Several writers from time to time, in Spite of the predominance of French, wrote in the native tongue (e.g. Layamon, and the authors of 07'mulum, and the Ancren Rimºle, all between 1200 and 1240). And others translated poems, treatises, and romances from the French, by which means the written language was enriched with many new terms, A northern writer of the end of the thirteenth century, prefacing the Cursor Mundi, a long religious poem which he compiled and trans- lated, says: “This ilke boke es translate Writo engliss tung to rede, For the luue of englijs lede, Englis lede of meri ingeland, For the comen to vnderstand. Seldom was for ani chance Englis tong preched in France; Gif we thaim ilkan thair language, And than do we ma vtetrage.” To leuid and englis men i spell, That understandis quat i can tell.” Put into modern English, this reads as fol- lows:— “This same book is translated Into the English tongue, to be read, For the love of the English people, English people of merry England, For the common [folk] to understand. Seldom was by any chance . The English tongue preached in France; Let us give each their [own] tongue And theºn we do none wrong. To the ignorant and English I speak, Who understand what I can tell.” Ssº sº NºSººs, Nº. º: § Nº-º-º: |TW Kºżº THE OCEAN. IT has already been shown that about three- fourths of the surface of the globe is covered with water. To this vast body of fluid the name “Ocean * is generally applied; but for convenience of description, various names are appropriated to different portions, which occupy “basins,” or vast depressions, possessing some- what varying characteristics, or partially separated by continental ***.of masses. The immense expanse “” between the continents of Europe and Africa on the east and the two Americas on the west is known as the Atlantic Ocean—a name given by the old geographers to the little-known. waste of waters westward of the Atlas moun- tains. The Indian Ocean lies between the east coast of Africa, the Indian archipelago, and the west coast of Australia. The Pacific is the name given by Magalhaens, or Magellan, the Portuguese navigator, to the vast and com- paratively tranquil sea he entered after passing the strait which bears his name, at the south- ern extremity of South America. It lies be- tween the western coast of America and Asia, * This word should be virage; it is outrage in other Versions of the poem, PIII/SICAI, GEOGRAPHY, 175 New Guinea, and the east coast of Australia. The Atlantic and the Pacific are each divided by the equator into North and South oceans. The Arctic Ocean surrounds the North Pole, and is bounded by the northern shores of Europe, Asia, and America, extending South- ward in the openings between the continents to the Arctic circle, or about long. 64° N. The Antarctic Ocean surrounds the South Pole, and is understood to be limited by the 64th parallel of south latitude. The term “sea” is ordinarily applied to large inlets, nearly “mediterranean” (that is, surrounded by land), or bays formed by vast curves of the coasts of the continents. Each of the large oceans with connected seas will be separately described ; in the meanwhile the extent Areas of oceans of their respective areas may be approximatively indicated :— Square miles. Atlantic . . . . 25,000,000 Indian . . . . . 20,000,000 Pacific . 70,000,000 Arctic º 10,000,000 Antarctic . 20,000,000 Before proceeding to a separate account of each of these vast oceans, it will be con- venient to consider some characteristics of the ocean generally; for we must remember that, physically, the ocean is one and indivisible, and that the separate names are only adopted by the geographer for convenience of descrip- tion. In a previous article, when treating of the general characteristics of the earth's surface, and the proportions of land and water, we noticed the ascertained depth of the ocean at various points, and described approximatively the mountains, ridges, valleys, and plateaux which form the bottoms of the ocean basins ; and in other sections we shall allude to the causes continually in operation to produce variation, volcanic and coralline. It now be- comes necessary to give some attention to the chemical composition of sea-water, the varia- tions of colour observed, and the phenomena of tidal action and currents. There is such a remarkable difference be- tween the water of the ocean and that of rivers and some of the large inland Saltwater lakes, that every human being who has ever approached the sea must be well acquainted with it. One kind of water is “salt,” the other “fresh.” To drink freely of the one would be to imbibe a poison, pro- ducing the most terrible effects; fresh water is the most delightful and invigorating of draughts, and is the basis of nearly all other beverages. Sailors crossing vast oceans would perish of thirst if they did not provide themselves with sufficient store of fresh water for the voyage, to be added to by such quan- tities as welcome rain may afford. “Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink,” has been the cry of many a shipwrecked mariner, while the ocean waves dashed over the frail boat or raft to which he clung, drift- ing on the wilderness of ocean. The fact of this difference is probably one of the best- known facts in nature; but the reason of it has been one of the vexed questions of philosophy ; and although there is now a generally accepted explanation, it is not entirely free from diffi- culties. It is not necessary to our purpose that we should in this place describe minutely the chemical composition of pure water. That will be done in the articles on CHEMISTRY ; and we need only state that in sea, or salt, water, pure water is only one ingredient, although, of course, by far the largest ; and that there are added to it various inorganic matters in proportion varying in different localities from about 33 to about 43 parts in 1,000. The principal of these Saline matters are chloride of sodium (common salt), nearly 80 per cent. of the whole, chlorides of potassium and mag- nesium, bromide of magnesium, sulphate of magnesia, and Sulphate and carbonate of lime. At least twelve other elementary substances, including metallic bases, have been discovered by careful analysis, but in such minute quanti- ties as not materially to affect the general characteristics of the fluid, their presence being only perceptible in sponges, sea-weeds, marine animals, or in the deposits on the boilers of steam vessels making sea-voyages. “Whence come these saline ingredients 7” is. the question naturally asked ; and the answer now accepted as generally satis- factory is, they are brought down Why tº: S83, by the rivers discharging into the S ocean. Every little spring which contributes. to the formation of a river brings to the sur- face a portion of the earth through which it forces its way upwards, and that earth con- tains saline and other earthy elements. Indeed, many springs are so highly charged with mineral elements, that the water is quite unfit for Ordinary consumption, though of great medicinal value when taken in small quan- tities. The “spas,” or mineral springs so, much resorted to in England, Germany, North America, and other places, are familiar in- stances of this. The materials thus held in solution are carried by the river to the sea. It would appear, then, that spring and river water should be as Salt as the sea, or even more so, because the vast body of the latter would dilute the salt-charged water of the rivers. The fact, however, is that the proportion of the saline elements in river water to the general bulk is so minute that it is scarcely perceptible; but that the chlorides, sulphates, and other elements are stored up in the sea, the fresh water being continually lost by evaporation, which returns a considerable por- tion to the earth in the form of rain. The saling elements therefore accumulate, and the fresh water does not ; and the accumulation has. been going on throughout the uncertain period. of time which has elapsed since the earth assumed its present form. The objection to this theory, that the sea water is less salt near the mouths of great rivers than in the main body of the ocean, is consequently . . . easily answered. The freshwater, Vºtions in in which the saline elements bear “” a very small proportion to the bulk, is largely 1976 TEIE UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. mixed with the sea-water—to such an ex- tent, indeed, that in the cases of some karge rivers, such as the Amazon and Orinoco, the fresh water is perceptible several hundred miles from the shore—and so, to use a familiar phrase, dilutes it. Within the zones of greatest heat the evaporation is considerable, and con- Sequently the proportion of saline ingredients large; and in partially landlocked seas, where the influx of ocean water more than counter- balances that offiver water, and the evaporation is unchecked by cold winds, the Saline deposits are in excess of the average. The saltness of the Atlantic Ocean is in excess of that of the Pacific. Between the equator and lat. 30° N., the saline particles are in the proportion of more than 36 to 1000 of volume, and the maximum is attained near the 24th parallel of latitude, and about 5 degrees from the west coast of Africa, nearly under the tropic of Cancer, where the heat is intense, and where only small rivers discharge on the African coast. Farther north, the effect of the discharge of the great American river St. Lawrence, —w of more than 39 in 1000 represents the salinity at the eastern end, between the island of Candia and the African coast, and more than 36 in 1000 at the western end, near the straits of Gibraltar. The Mediterranean, however, re- ceives the Nile, the Po and other Italian rivers, the Rhone (bringing immense quantities of pure water from the Alpine glaciers), and the Ebro, besides numerous small streams which tend to freshen its waters; and for a much higher proportion we must look to the Red Sea, which is landlocked by sandy districts, and receives only a few insignificant contributions from fresh-water streams. Professor Forch- hammer, of Copenhagen, who has most care- fully investigated the subject, found that the Red Sea had an average salinity of more than 43 in 1000. The Black Sea receives the Danube, the Dnieper, and the Don, very large rivers, and many smaller streams; its area is little more than one-fifth of that of the Medi- terranean, and it is subject to intensely cold winds, which check evaporation, so that the proportion of Saline ingredients is only from ON TEIE SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANIEA N. bringing immense quantities of fresh water from the great lakes, is seen in a slight dimi- nution of the proportion of salinity ; and still farther north it would be much less, owing to the melting of the icebergs and glaciers of Greenland, were it not for the great currents which sweep round towards Baffin's Bay, bringing salt water to mingle with the body of fresh water. We have noticed Inland seas that some inland seas possess more salt than the great ocean itself. This remark applies particularly to the Mediter- ranean, which is sheltered by the Alpine system of southern Europe from the cold northern winds; and the temperature being on the average ten or twelve degrees higher than the Atlantic under the same latitudes, owing to the proximity of the African deserts, the evaporation is excessive, and the proportion about 12 to 18 in 1000. The great inlet in- cluding the Baltic, the Gulfs of Finland and Bothnia, receives rivers draining about one- fifth of the continent of Europe, and is tra- versed throughout a great part of the year by cold north-easterly and easterly winds, which not only check evaporation, but drive back the influx of Salt water through the narrow channels opening into the German Ocean. It is not surprising, consequently, that the propor- tion of saline ingredients in the Baltic is only about one-third of that shown in the Black Sea. It should be remembered that the quan- tity of Saline matter has been found to vary according to depth. It has been estimated—of course complete accuracy on such a subject cannot be looked for—that every year the rivers of the world dissolve and carry into the Sea about a hundred tons of earthy matter for every English Square mile of surface ; or alto- gether more than five billions of tons. There are many Salt inland seas and lakes, some of them of great size, both in the Old and New Worlds. The largest is the sº:º Caspian, which receives the Volga, one of the largest of European rivers, and other considerable rivers, and has no visible outlet; the water, varying in different parts, being much less Salt than the ocean generally. Lake Etton, in a steppe east of the Ural range, has the Saltest water known—due, probably, to the character of the surrounding soil and the presence of Salt springs in the lake itself. There are many places on the surface of the earth where the water has altogether disappeared by evaporation, leaving large tracts impregnated with salt, and known as salt plains, or, in some parts of America, “salt-licks,” from animals occasionally licking the surface for the sake of the salt, which they instinctively know to have a medicinal effect. The Dead Sea, in Syria, is a remarkable instance of a large piece of water—about forty - º: § - § Hº:### ºſitiºnſ ºt º 5----- > . Sº Nº. ººººººº... . - ºr a ºn ºf " … "Myº Me". -ºº: *\ === £ºs;ſº f THE SECOND DECLENSION. WE now come to the second declension of Latin nouns, which generally end in Čás and ër in the nominative case for the masculine gender, and in um for the neuter in the nomi- native case, but always in 7 for the genitive Singular, as the following. Masculine Nouns in its and Šr — Singular. N. dominus a lord W. domine O lord A. dominum a lord G. domini of a lord D. domino to or for a lord A. domino with, by, or from a lord, & ſº Fºx . º º ſl. º ". fºs, sº º & Rº §§ N * \*. sº *-ºs- ~ * — . ---------" ON THE BAN KS OF TEIIS NILE. miles long, with an average breadth of nine miles—intensely salt, with no communication with the ocean. The river Jordan, from the north, and many smaller streams, continually pour fresh water into the sea, but it appears to be entirely carried off by evaporation. The Saltness of the Dead Sea is eight times more than that of the ocean; and as the surface is more than 1300 feet below that of the Medi- terranean, it is possible that in the course of ages the level has been lowered nearly to that extent by evaporation; and extensive deposits of Salt are found on the banks, showing that formerly the area of the sea was considerably larger than at present. At the bottom of the Sea are large deposits of common salt, sulphate of lime, and carbonate of lime, WOL. I. Plural. N. domini lords W. domini O lords A. dominos lords G. dominörum of lords D. dominis to or for lords A. dominis with, by, or from lords Singular. N. magister a master W. magister O master A. magistrum a master G. magistri of a master D. magistro to Or fºr a master A. magistro by, with, or from a master 12 17S THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOI8. Plural. spirit, and Tulli, O Tullius; so too the adjective * A * 'meus in the mas. Vocative has mi. N. :::::::: § ºr. (5) The genitive plural of words denoting A. magistros masters money, weight, measures, and trades ends in G. magiströrum of masters wn instead of orum, as modiºm instead of i. magistris to or for masters modiorum (of pecks), mummām, instead of num- A. magistris by, with, or from masters morum (of pieces of money). Singular. Wocabulary of mords in the Second Declension N. puer a bo to be learnt by heart. § 3. bº, Like Magister decline,— A. pučrum a boy Liber (m) a book G. pučri of a boy Aper (ºn) a boar D. pučro to or for a boy * (m) Alºnder & y; e € A. puero by, with, or from a boy Faber (m) a workman * Plural. Cultur (m) a knife N. pubri boys Like Dominus decline,— W. pubri O boys Servus (m) a slave A. pueros boys Calamus (m) a straw G. pučrörum of boys Fungus (m) a mushroom D. pučris to or for boys Populus (m) the people A. pučris by, with, or from boys Vulgus (m) the common people § g Pelagus (m the ocean Neuter Nouns in um. Like Regnum dºme- Singular. Bellum (n) £), Wal’ N. regnum a kingdom Negotium (m) business W. regnum O kingdom Templum (n) a temple A. regnum a kingdom Brachium (n) the arm G. regai of a kingdom Armentum (n) a herd D. regno to or for a kingdom Solum (m) the soil A. regno by, with, OT from a kingdom Like Wir decline,— Plural. Triumvir (m) one of three men * º Decemvir (m) one of ten men N. regna kingdoms - W. regna O kingdoms Self. Eacamination Questions and Eagercises. A. regna kingdoms What are the general masculine nominative G. regnórum of kingdoms endings, and what the neuter ending of words D. regnis to or for kingdoms in the second declension ? What is always A. regnis with, by, or from kingdoms the ending of the genitive singular ! Give Observe, however, that vir, a man, is thus declined — Singular. N. Vir 2, Iſla, Il V. Vir O man A. v. virum 2, Iſla, Il G. viri of a man D. Viro to a man A. viro by a man Plural. N. Viri IOleIl V. Viri O men A. viros IOOleIl G. virorum of men D. viris to men A. viris by men Notice especially,– (1) Most nouns in its are masculine, but names of trees are feminine, as mālās, an apple-tree. (2) Three nouns in its areneuter: virus, poison, ºvulgus, the common people, and pelagºts, the ocean, and are used only in the singular. (3) Deus, God, makes its vocative O Deus, and in the plural makes nominative and voca- tive Dià or D7, genitive Deorum or Deûm, dative and ablative Deis, Dīs, or Dis. (4) Filius, a son, genius, a guardian spirit, and proper nouns in ints, as Tullius, make the vocative case in 7, as fili, O son, gèni, O guardian examples. Decline magister, Dominus, regnum, and vir, with the English of the several cases. What words ending in us are feminine, and what neuter ? Decline Dents, and show how it differs from other words in the second declension. What is the vocative of filius, genius, Tullius, and state the reason of the seeming irregularity ? What words make the genitive plural in it m, contracted for orum. Give ex- amples. Write out the vocabulary of the second declension nouns, and decline them. IEXERCISES, Translate into English :— Hic ager hujus Alexandri. Propter brachia fabri. In his agris hujus regni. In hoc negotio hujus magistri. Penes hos servos domini. In brachiis decemvirum. Dominorum Solum. Servorum cultri. Pelagi armenta. O regma Alexandri. Puerorum libris. In domi- norum regnis. Fabri agrorum. Per Runc agrum magistri. O magister populil Propter Calamos domini. Infra solum hujus templi. Pelagi dominus. Belli populi negotia. Agros Alexandri. Obella Alexandri. Servos fabrorum. Domino pelagi. Vulgus populi. Armentis agrorum. Cultrorum servorum. Fungos agri. Apri horum agrorum. Cultris servi. O liber belli. Templorum negotia. Intra hoc templum horum Deſm. Circiter haec templa decemviri. IIISTORY OF MODERM. TIMES. 179 O mi Tulli. O geni filiorum. Virus pelagi. Malus virorum. O fili viri. O migeni nummílm. O mi deus. Di virorum. Per malum filii. Di geniorum. O virus de pelago. O viri vulgi. O fili Detam. Translate into Latin:— O Lord l By lords. Of the lord. With the lord. To the lords. Of this people. With the people. To a slave. From slaves. A mushroom (acc.). For a mushroom. To the commºn people. With the common people. Of the ocean. The straw (acc.). To mush- rooms. The straws. On account of these masters. Through those kingdoms. Of a kingdom. For kingdoms. O wars l To a war. Of this business. For these temples. Of this temple. O arm To the arms. Of herds. With a herd. Of the soil. The soil (acc.). For wars. To temples. Above these masters of this slave. In the power of these masters. Concerning these books of the slave. Above these books of the master of Alexander. In these books of the common people. Around this knife. O my son To gods. To god- desses. To sons. For these daughters. The genius of moneys. Peck of poison. Above these apple-trees of the common people. In this ocean of the men. O my God l O Tul- lius, my son | The gods of this ocean. The moneys of these men. The mushrooms on this apple-tree. In these temples of the gods. O my book and my guardian l . . A ºr *: º #: lººrs §§§§ 㺠Zs - NS º Se:Sºdºxº sº º By the year 1529, the Emperor and the Pope were reconciled. The Romish party, who e always detested the Reformation, * sº in which they saw a protest of *** liberty against power, at the diet of Speyer procured the revocation of some concessions formerly made, and the issue of a decree which, if followed, would have prevented the development of the movement. The Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg, with various other princes, and the representatives of Augsburg, Ulm, Strasburg, and various other imperial towns, immediately handed in a protest, ap- pealing to a General Council and to the Em- peror. Hence they received the name Protest- ants, which was soon extended to all who repudiated the papalauthority and the teachings of the Romish Church. A great accession of strength would have been gained for the Reformation, had means The Refor- been found for bringing about a ...t. union among the different leaders, Switzerland But an unhappy difference of from 1518, opinion soon divided the Reformed Ulric Zwingli Church into sects, at first acting (1484-1581), apart, and ultimately inimical to each other. Ulric Zwingli began the work of the Reformation in Switzerland. A man of a cheerful and joyous spirit, he had not passed ated with the Reformation in the north. In the south there arose a harsher and through the stages of dire suffering and dark mental agony that preceded Luther's convic- tion of the doctrine of justification by faith ; he rather wished to introduce practical im- provements into the Church, and declared that the essence of religion was to be sought in morality and innocence of life, “to visit the widows and fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.” It was on the question of the sacrament that he differed most widely from Luther. He looked upon it as symbolical, whereas Luther maintained the doctrine of the real presence of the body and blood of Christ in the bread and wine, though he rejected the scholastic doc- trine of transubstantiation. Zwingli was very anxious to come to an accommodation with Luther on this point, and a meeting for discus- sion was arranged at Marburg ; but Luther, always impatient under contradiction, and too fond of dictatorial power, refused Zwingli's proffered friendship. “Ye have another spirit in you !” he hotly exclaimed. Zwingli pleaded for Teconciliation even with tears, but in vain; and the good offices of Philip of Hesse for the same purpose were equally fruitless. But Zwingli did not merely wish to reform the Church in Switzerland. His views were also political. He wanted to introduce a new constitution, in which the two principal cities, Berne and Zurich, were to have the chief power. He especially denounced the custom among his countrymen of taking service in foreign armies, and the practice (usual among the great families) of receiving pensions from foreign princes for providing soldiers. In many cantons, such as Appenzell, Glarus, St. Gall, etc., his doctrines and innovations were adopted; but they found strong opposition in the old or original cantons—Uri, Schwytz, Lucerne, Unterwalden, and Zug—where intel- lectual culture had not penetrated as in the great cities, where the inhabitants were under the control of the priests and monks, and where the pensions or subsidies denounced by Zwingli formed the principal item of revenue. Ill-timed zeal of the inhabitants of Berne and Zurich, who exasperated the oppo- site party by image-breaking and the destruc- tion of ecclesiastical Ornaments and vestments in the churches, led to a confederacy of the five cantons with Austria and Bavaria, for the maintenance of the old religion, and for mutual support. A war was the result ; and though a hollow truce was effected for a time, the in- habitants of Zurich were attacked by a greatly superior army from the five cantoms at Kappel, and defeated with great slaughter; and here, in 1531, by the banner of the city, fell Ulric Zwingli and the chiefs of the reformed party in Switzerland ; and thus the progress of the Reformation in Switzerland was arrested. Another phase of the Reformation, destined to exert a powerful influence on the religious and political history of Europe, John Calvin was meanwhile developing itself (1509–1564), in Switzerland. Luther and The Geneva Wittenberg are indelibly associ- School of Reformers, 180 TEIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. sterner Luther in the person of John Calvin ; and a southern Wittenberg was foundin Geneva. As Germany and England took the outlines of their Reformation from the teachings of the great German monk, so the Reformation in France, in Scotland, Holland, and other coun- tries was built up on the foundation laid by Calvin. This distinguished man and energetic reformer was a Fre n c h m a n, born at Noyon, in Picardy, in 1509. Like Lu- ther, he first studied jurispru- dence, and ex- changed law for theology. Rest- j less and eager, ſº he gave up the Sºº quiet duties of the rector of a country parish for the toilsome activity of life in Paris, at a time when the king, Francis the First, was still wavering between the characters of a patron and an opponent of the new doctrines to which Calvin became a zealous convert. Religious persecution found him out ; and in spite of the patronage of the Queen of Navarre, continued residence in Paris became impossible. Forced to fly, he took refuge in Switzerland, first at Basle, and ulti- mately at Geneva, with which city his name and system be- came identified. Though at first the rigid strict- 2|== ness and simpli- -, -ā city of his system º offended many, ſºft and even once led Wºź. to his expulsion §§ from Geneva, he was afterwards recalled ; and at Genevahe founded in his a college, where many a zealous preacher was edu- cated, who after- wards went forth -1. to bear his testi- mony even at the peril of his life Of Calvin, a Ger- ". man-writer justly observes that he was “hard to- wards others as towards himself, yet not with- Out great depth of feeling ; an enemy to all earthly enjoyments, caring nothing for popular favour, he gained a mastery over men’s minds by the respect they felt for his strong clear will.” His celebrated work entitled Institutes of the Christian Religion, containing a general statement of the reformed, and a refutation of the popish doctrines, was received with GENEWA. Effiliūſhū ū-kº ºn - ji= | {||=\ Cº- | | #|| AUGSB UR G. general applause. It embodies his system, which differs from that of Luther chiefly with regard to the doctrine of predestination. With respect to the sacrament, he takes up a posi- tion between Luther and Zwingli: advocating simplicity and the abrogation of all outward pomp and ceremony, and aiming at restoring the purity of apostolic times. It has been well ===#####-e remarked by a distinguished Churchman, that as the principle Of Romanism was Superiority to the State, and the a principle of the :* * #7. English Church pendence of the State. Worn out, With toil, and devoured by his burning zeal, Cal- vin died at the age of fifty-five years; not, however, before he had firmly fixed his doctrines in the minds of his followers, and founded a church that was to absorb a large section of the Protestant community. That Calvin was deeply tinctured with the intolerance of his time, is proved by his acquiescence in the death of Servetus, an eccentric and unfortunate man, condemned by the Protestant cantoms of Switzerland for º heresy. He tried, indeed, to defend himself by declar- 'Fă. ºf ing in one of his ## | letters, “Senten- ºfflº ...? tiam volo, suppli- |## | à cium capitale mon ! º # volo.” But toler. §= # |: ance, except in a ºft =º #ſº few rare cases, did # = ſº W |ft not cnter into the #º |## political or reli- f # º iſ gious system of the #ºl. º |# sixteenth Centur iſiº #! century. ill|}}} # 2.É. The trial and : iſſ g º #: execution of Ser- *\}'}; vetus forms one of | . jº, the greatest blots #ſº on the history of †: the Reformation. iſ jº: 3 That Servetus, |||}ºff though an enthusi- astic dreamer, was an earnest and con- - scientious man, is beyond a doubt. The trial at Geneva, which lasted two months, was disgraced by unmitigated rancour, the foulest abuse being bandied between the accused and the accusers. On the very morning after sentence of death had been pronounced it was executed in the most cruel manner, and the Reformers looked upon the hideous crime in no other light than as - reli- gious triumph. A HITEIMETIC. 181 a a - RITH º w ** * § - ºxº~ : , E- º cº § - * > º . § **t, º ſ º * @ : : . º * º Cº Sº tº CCCCC Cº cº § D VII. SIMPLE DIVISION (continued). Rule for Simple Division. WE must distinguish two cases: viz., (1) When the divisor is not greater than 12,; (2) when the divisor is greater than 12. JFirst Case.—Divisor not greater than 12. Jºule.—Place the divisor and dividend thus:– Divisor) Dividend 1. By the division table find how often the divisor is contained in the first figure, or if necessary the first two or first three figures of the left hand of the dividend, and observe what the remainder is. Set down the quotient as the first figure of the required answer, and carry the remainder, if there be any. 2. Conceive in your mind, or write down on a piece of paper, this remainder, followed at its right hand by the next figure of the dividend, and find how often the divisor is contained in the number so formed. Set down this quotient as the second figure of the required answer ; and carry the remainder, if there be any. 3. Proceed in the same way with this re- mainder and the next figure or figures of the dividend ; and so on till all the figures of the dividend are used up ; and if there be any remainder at the end, write it apart from the quotient. The student can hardly be expected to under- stand this rule until he has seen it illustrated by a few examples, which we shall now give. Example 1. Find how often 4 is “ontained in 6712; or in other words, divide 6712 by 4. Arrange thus: 4)6712 1678 (1) Here the first figure of the dividend is 6, and 4 is contained in 6 once, leaving a re- mainder 2; ... write down l as the first figure of the quotient, and carry 2. (2) The next figure of the dividend is 7 : ... we must find how often 4 is contained in 27. The quotient is 6, and the remainder 3 ; ... write down 6 as the second figure of our answer, and carry the remainder 3. (3) The next figure of the dividend is I ; 4 goes into 31, 7 times, leaving remainder 3. (4) 4 goes into 32, 8 times, leaving no re- mainder. Thus the quotient is 1678 when 6712 is divided by 4. Example 2. Divide 238 by 3. 3)238 79...remainder 1. We say: 3 into 2 won't go, but 3 into 23 goes 7 times and 2 over. 3 into 28 goes 9 times and 1 over. Thus the quotient is 79, the remainder 1. Example 3. Divide 103417 by 11. 11) 103417 94.01...remainder 6. We say : 11 into 1 won't go; 11 into 10 won't go. But 11 into 103 goes 9 times, leaving 4 over. 11 into 44 goes 4 times, leaving no remainder. Now, 11 into 1 won’t go, ... put down 0 as the next figure of the quotient ; but 11 into 17 goes once and leaves 6 over, ... put down 1 as the last figure of the quotient and 6 as the final remainder. Thus when 103417 is divided by 11, the quotient is 9401 and the remainder 6. Second Case of Simple Division—viz., when the divisor is greater than 12.* Ičule.—1. Arrange divisor and dividend thus: Divisor) Dividend ( Mark off from the left hand of the dividend as many figures as there are figures in the divisor, Or one more if necessary. 2. Find how often the divisor is contained in the number thus marked off. Write down the quotient thus found as the first figure of the required quotient. 3. Multiply the divisor by this number, and place the product under the number marked off from the dividend, and subtract. 4. To the right of the remainder thus found write the next figure of the dividend, and find how often the divisor is contained in the number thus formed ; and write down the quotient as the second figure of the required quotient. 5. Multiply the divisor by this second figure of the quotient, subtract, and bring down the next figure of the dividend, as before, and pro- ceed in this way till all the figures of the dividend are exhausted. We now proceed to give some examples fully worked out, without which the rule given in the preceding article is difficult to grasp, Example 1. How often is 23 contained in 1855.3% 23)185.53(806 Here it is necessary to mark 184 off three figures of the dividend, -- because 23 won't gointo 18. But 153 23 into 185 goes 8 times and 138 something over. We find how often 23 goes 15 into 185 by guessing, and then trying if we are right ; and our guesses should be guided roughly by seeing how often the first figure of the divisor is contained in the first or first two figures of the dividend. Thus 2 is contained in 18, 9 times. But if we try 9 we see that 9 times 23 is greater than 185, ... 9 is too large ; so then we try 8 times, and we find that 8 times 23 make 184, which is less than 185. ... 8 is the first figure of the quotient. Now write 8 times 23 (i.e. 184) under the 185 of the dividend, and subtract. The remainderis 1. Immediately after this remainder write the next figure of the dividend (viz. 5). Now, 23 won’t go into 15, ... write 0 as the next figure of the quotient after the 8, and bring down the next figure of the dividend (i.e. the 3). Now, as before, we must divide 23 into 153, and as 2 goes 7 times into 15, we try 7. But 7 times 23 gives 161, which is too large, ... we * In this case the process is called Long Division. 182 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. must try 6 times, and we find that it will do ; so we write 6 as the next figure of the divi- dend. Now, 6 times 23 gives 138, ... write 138 under 153 and subtract; the remainder is 15, and there are no more figures in the dividend. Therefore the quotient when 18553 is di- vided by 23 is 806, and the remainder is 15. Example 2. Divide 658625 by 506. 506)658,625(1301 We mark off three figures 506 Of the dividend. 506 into 658 goes once, ... write 1 as the first figure of the quotient. Multiply the divi- sor by this 1, and write the 825 product under 658, and sub- 1526 1518 506 tract. We get as remainder 152. 319 Now bring down 6, the next figure of the dividend, and write it after the 152, thus forming the number 1526. The divisor goes 3 times into this number, ... 3 is the second figure of the quotient, and again we have to multiply 1526 by 3. Write the product under 1526, and subtract. The remainder so found is 8. Bring down the next figure (2) of the dividend, thus form- ing the number 82. Into this number the divisor 506 will not go, therefore we must put 0 as the next figure of the quotient and bring down the next figure (5) of the dividend, thus forming the number 825. * Into this number 506 goes once. Multiply 506 by 1, and write the product under the 825, and subtract. The remainder is 319, and as there are no more figures in the dividend, we see that the result of the division is that we get 1301 as quotient and 319 as re- mainder. When the divisor can be separated into two factors,” we may perform the division by the following Rule: which will be found conve- nient hereafter — 1. Divide by one factor, writing down the quotient and remainder. 2. Divide this quotient by the other factor, and write down the quotient and remainder resulting from this second division. This second quotient is the required quotient. 3. To find the proper remainder, multiply the first divisor by the second remainder, and to the product so found add the first remainder. Example. Divide 2539 by 24. Now 24 = 6 × 4. 6)2539 4)423 first remainder = 1 105 second remainder = 3 The quotient is 105. The proper remainder is = 3 times 6 + 1 = 18 + 1 = 19. If the divisor terminate with a cypher or * Numbers which can be separated into two or more factors are called “Composite numbers.” Thus 4, 6, 9, 15, 35, etc., are composite. For 4 = 2 × 2 ; 6 = 3 × 2 ; 9 = 3 × 3; 15 = 3 × 5; 35 = 7 × 5, etc. Numbers which cannot be separated into factors are called “Prime numbers.” Thus 3, 7, 11, 31, 53, etc., are prime. several cyphers, we can perform the division by a shorter rule. Rule.—1. Cut off the cyphers from the divi- sor, and cut off from the right hand of the divi- dend as many figures as there were cyphers cut off from the divisor. 2. Perform the division with the new divisor and dividend so formed by the usual rules. The quotient so found will be the required quotient. 3. To the last remainder annex the figures cut off from the dividend. This will be the proper remainder. Example. Divide 607632 by 500. . Cutting - 500)607633 lºg ºf . 1215...rem. 132. divisor, and 32 . from the dividend, we may now divide 6076 by 5. The quotient resulting from this is 1215, and the remainder is 1. Therefore 1215 is the required quotient; and the proper remainder is 132. Pacercises in Long Division. Find the quotients and remainders in the following cases :— . Quotient Remainder 171 1. 74346 –– 345 Ans, 215 2. 9310 –– 35 266 () 3. 11634 –- 49 237 21 4. 1267 –– 113 | 1 24 5. 61472 –– 862 7 I 27() 6. 34215 –– 96 356 39 7. 23355 -- 18 | 796 7 8. 1796451 — 207 8678 I ()5 9. 652932 –– 480 1360 132 10. 18745341 –- 218 85987 175. 11. 54562162 –– 3749 14558 2965. 12. 7856.421 — 21:45 3662 1431 13. 864521 - 56 15437 49 14. 327436 –– 513 638 142 15. 4S56752 –– 2163 22.45 817 16. 474050 –– 470 100S 290 17. 870047 –– 245 3551 52 1S. 654207 –– 147 4450 57 19. 984805 –– 207 4757 106 20. 832405 –– 115 723S 35 21, 58.4740251 - 4376 133624 1627 22, 674237452 –– 8907 75697 4273 23, 543897905 –– 6407 8489.1 I 268 24. 7432.17908 –- 3427 216871 991 25, 82.4376.957 - 4784 } 72319 2S6] . 26. 606405894 -- 4706 12885S 146 27. 805423135 –– 4689 171768 2983 28, 100402345 –– 7 154 I 4034 3109 29. 635.426976 -– 894] 7] 06S 7988 30, 470040874 –– 7654 61411 70SO JProblems and Jºacercises in Division. 1. A farmer buys 500 sheep, and sells them soon after for £1000. He finds that he has gained by this transaction 2 shillings on each sheep : what must he have paid for each 2 Ams. £1 18s. 0d. 2. A man, working uniformly for one hour, raises 4140 pints of water by a pump, each stroke of which raises 3 pints. How many strokes must he make for every minute of the time he works 7 Ans, 23, , CHEMISTRY. 3. Water is discharged through a tube at such a rate that in 63 weeks 56889 gallons are discharged. How many gallons would be discharged in a day ? Ans. 129. 4. A library of 8448 volumes consists of 8 compartments; each compartment contains 22 shelves. Find how many volumes each shelf must contain 7 Ams. 48. Miscellaneous Questions in the Elementary Rules. 1. Find the number which subtracted from 80001 leaves 57736, and divide it by 365. 2. A number diminished by two-thirds of itself, when divided by 809, gives a quotient 327, and a remainder 456. What is the num- ber 7 3. Thirty years ago a man was three times as old as his son, whose present age is 45 : how old is the father at present 7 4. A is 27 years older than B, and 15 years younger than C, whose age is 54 years ; D's age is equal to the sum of A's and B's ages: how much older than D is C 7 5. Divide 7872 into three parts, such that the first part shall be four times the second, and the second three times the third. 6. A died in 1873 at the age of 87; B dicd in 1837 at the age of 18; how old was A when B was born ? 7. The product of two numbers is 1270374; half of One of the numbers is 3129 : what is the other number 7 8. The quotient being 15238, the remainder 86, and the divisor 144, what must the dividend be 7 Answers. (1) 61; (2) 794997; (3) 75; (4) 3 years; (5) 5904, 1476, 492; (6) 33; (7) 203; (8) 2194358. THE ATMOSPHERE. THE atmosphere which surrounds our earth, on all sides, may be regarded as a vast Ocean of gas, at the bottom of which we live. Invisible, without smell, taste, or colour, yielding with the utmost readiness to any movement of Our bodies, we are apt to become oblivious of its very existence, and yet we are dependent upon it for the breath of life, from the cradle to the grave. Vital action can only be maintained in an atmosphere containing free oxygen. Densest over the lowest portions of the earth's surface, the air becomes lighter or more rarefied, and therefore more unfit to support respiration, as we ascend. This being the Weight of the result of the downward pressure atmºsphere of the atmosphere, we are led to the conclusion that it possesses specific gravity or weight—a fact which admits of very easy demonstration. If one end of a tube be im- mersed in a glass of water, and the other be The ocean of air, 183 taken between the lips, it is well known that, by exhausting the air in the tube, we can draw up the water, or any other liquid, into our mouth. The first savage who ever thus sucked up water through a hollow reed from some mossy rock-basin, in his native woods, exempli- fied, however unconsciously, the action of the common pump. Long after the invention of that useful appa- ratus, however, mankind were puzzled to account for the fact that water thus raised refused to ascend to a greater height than a little over thirty feet (say thirty-two feet) above the surface of that in the well. No matter how perfect the exhaustion of the air in the tube, higher than this it obstimately refused to come. The great Galileo having The air-pump, been applied to by a deputation *:::::: of * A tº & Walter Un all from the savants of his day for exhausted tube, information on this knotty point, demanded of his interlocutors what, in their opinion, was the reason of the water entering the tube at all. “Oh,” they replied, “we have long come to a conclusion regarding that matter : the air having been withdrawn from the tube the water rushes in to supply its place. because nature abhors a vacuum !” “Good,” replicd the Tuscan philosopher; “that being the case, it is very evident,” he added, with a touch of dry humour, “that nature's detestation of a vacuum only extends to the distance of about thirty feet!” Such was the unsatisfactory state of our knowledge with regard to the very simplest phenomena of the physical universe a little more than two hundred years ago. The real explanation is, nevertheless, simple in the extreme, and illustrates the fact that the air possesses gravity or weight. It is because the air presses with the force of between fourteen and fifteen pounds, on every square inch of surface, and therefore upon that of the water in the well, that the latter ascends in a tube from which the air has been withdrawn. Subject to this constant pressure, it cannot, of course, do otherwise as soon as the pressure is removed from any portion of its surface. If a tube, closed at one end and open at the other, be filled with water, and the open end plunged into a tub or other open vessel, containing water, the latter will not flow out of the tube, but will remain suspended at the height of a little over thirty feet, if the tube be of sufficient length to permit of its doing so. The fact is that, at this height, the column of water weighs exactly the same as a column of air extending to the very confines of the atmosphere. The one counterbalances the other, * and the rise and fall of the water.The atmospherio in the tube would illustrate the Pºº" varying pressure of the atmosphere ; and the entire apparatus, if the tube were made of glass, so as to allow the column of water to be visible, would constitute a water barometer—an instrument serving, as its name indicates, to illustrate the variations in the weight or pres- sure of the atmosphere, just as the thermometer, in obedience to another natural law, serves as the index of the variations of temperature. As such an instrument, in consequence of its size," THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ! * would be of little practical utility, the substi- tution of some much denser and weightier fluid than water is clearly a desideratum. This want is supplied by the liquid metal mercury, which, volume for volume, Weighs rather more than thirteen times as much as Water. A column of mercury, under similar conditions, stands at the height of about thirty inches, instead of thirty-two feet, in equilibrio, with the atmo- spheric pressure. A glass tube nearly filled with mercury, and terminating at its open end in a vessel containing a small quantity of mer- cury, whose surface is exposed to the pressure of the air, constitutes an ordinary barometer. The functions of the atmosphere are manifold and in the highest degree important. To enu- merate them would, however, demand a far greater space than we can devote to the subject, nor is it necessary to do so when treating of air from the point of view of its chemical consti- tution. It has already been pointed out that the atmosphere is com- posed of two distinct elementary gases inti- mately commingled, but not in a state of che- mical union. It is be- cause the air contains free oxygen that it is the great supporter of Com- bustion and vitality. The medium in which # the life-giving Oxygen may be regarded as di- luted is singularly desti- # tute of special attri- butes, and is termed nitrogen or azote—the latter term signifying that it does not sup- port life. Not being in a condition of chemical combination, the con- stituent elements of the atmosphere can readily be separated one from the other—that is to w say, the oxygen in a given volume of air can be withdrawn from the nitrogen. A burning taper placed under a glass bell jar will consume the free oxygen it con- tains, as explained under the head of combustion, leaving the nitro- gen behind. This experiment will be more completely successful if we substitute a piece of phosphorus for the taper, as this substance, when burning, takes up the oxygen present more effectually than the taper. All that is necessary for our purpose is a shallow vessel, not quite filled with water, a flat piece of cork sufficiently large to support, when floating on the water, a very small metallic capsule con- taining a morsel of phosphorus about the size of a pea. Having ignited the phosphorus with a red-hot wire, we cover it with a bell jar, the outer atmosphere being excluded by the water with which the lower portion is surrounded. The mercurial barometer, Withdrawing the oxygen from air, RUTHER FORD’s EXPERIMENT. The phosphorus in burning will unite chemi- cally with the free oxygen in the enclosed volume of air, forming dense white fumes of phosphoric acid, a portion of which is deposited on the cool sides of the jar in white flocculi, while a portion is dissolved in the water, to which it communicates a distinctly acid taste. The water will now rise in the jar, occupying a space proportionate to the volume of Oxygen that has been abstracted, and leaving the nitro- gen in a state of greater or less purity. The constituent elements of the air differ somewhat in density, Oxygen being heavier than nitrogen in the proportion of 16 to 14; thus, if the weight of a given volume of oxygen be one ounce, that of the same quantity of nitrogen will be of an ounce. Nevertheless these two gases will always be found to be combined in exactly the same proportion in every stratum of theatrnos- phere—the heavier oxy- gen having no tendency to subside and collect On the surface of the earth, leaving the lighter nitrogen to float above it. This illustrates the law of what is termed the diffusion of gases, in virtue of which these bodies possess the faculty of becoming area intimately commingled % with one another, how- - ever different their den- sities. In this respect gases differ from liquids, which do not possess this property in any- thing like the same degree. Carbon dioxide, or carbonic acid gas, for example, is half as heavy again as air. So dense is it that it may be poured, like a liquid, from One vessel into another; nevertheless, if left exposed, it very soon mingles with the surrounding atmosphere. Having spoken of the relative weights of the two elementary gases which constitute the atmosphere, it is now the place to speak of their relative volumes. The nitrogen will be found to pre- dominate greatly over the oxygen in this respect, being about in the proportion of # of the former to # of the latter; or, more accurately, 100 parts of air con- tain 21 of oxygen to 69 of nitrogen. This can be determined in various ways—as for example by what is termed the endiometric analysis of air, the principle of which will be explained when we come to speak of water. The air we breathe is never absolutely pure. We do not now speak of matter in the solid form, which in a state of fine subdivision is floating constantly in it, but of other gases with which it is always combined. The principal The constituents of air, §§ º #|| l | º | º | l | | ſ Volumetrio constitution of air, CHEMISTRY. 185 of these is water in the form of an invisible gas, which is always present in greater or less quantities, and without which the air would probably be unfit for respiration for any length of time. The capacity of the air for taking up water- gas varies with its temperature, increasing as the latter rises, and vice versá. If the tempera- ture of the air be therefore lowered to a point below that at which it is capable of holding a given quantity of Water-gas in solution, or if it come into con- tact with any substance colder than itself, a portion of its aqueous vapour is re-condensed into water, and assumes the form of rain, dew, clouds, mist, etc. Carbonic acid gas and ammonia are likewise generally present in the atmosphere, in varying quantities. These are, of course, impurities, ... . with whose presence we could ImPurities in very well dispense. They are the atmosphere most abundant in the air of crowded cities—- country air contain- ing them in a much less degree, while that of mountain regions is almost Or entirely free from them. The nausea, headache, and other unpleasant Symp- toms which are ex- perienced in crowded assemblies, where many persons are breathing the same air, is mainly due to the presence of these deleterious gases in the air. Every effort should therefore be made to secure pro- per ventilation. We ought not here to forget to mention the beautiful law in virtue of which the vegetable world serves to restore the atmosphere tainted by the breathing of animals t to its original purity. During the daytime the leaves of growing - plants have a tendency to absorb the carbon dioxide or carbonic acid in the air. This gas they decompose, assimilating the car- bon, which is one of the principal constituents of all vegetable structures, and setting free the oxygen. Plants may thus be said not only to bréathe, but also to feed on this gas, and by so doing restore the equilibrium of the atmos- phere destroyed by the exercise of the fune. tions of animal vitality. A knowledge of this fact furnishes a strong argument in favour of planting trees in the midst of large cities, The last occasional constituent of the atmos- phere which we have to consider, is not of a foreign nature, being indeed but a modi- fication of one of its elements, oxygens We fear it is no easy matter to give such a defini- Water in the atmosphere, Condensation of atmospheric vapours, º | | º { | : º * º º # Purity of the air restored, º | tiſſ |tit § º #####|| * Rºº. º º º: }ſº g | º §§ º W - º ºlº.º. * º Gº i I | º I |Hº gº º 3.3% º * … I | ! 3. $1. sº ESSE ... .º. } º --- º \\ t ** * * * %: | % º sº łł t !º W Ž: 2 * :=> §§ Sº , ; }; =$º āşş N ~ sº =\sé £3. | DRAWING THE oxygEN FROM AIR BY COMBUSTION. tion of ozone as shall be readily understood; and indeed we have doubtless much to learn yet concerning the true nature of this singular body. Ozone is what is known in chemistry as an allotropic form * of oxygen—that is to say, it is Oxygen exhibiting various attributes which distinguish it from ordinary oxygen. We have already described this gas as being destitute of taste OT Smell. Ozone possesses both. Its chemical affinities are more powerful than those of ordinary oxy- gen. It is denser or heavier by one-half than oxygen in its normal state, three volumes of this gas combining to form two of Ozone. This gas can be produced artificially by various means, one of which is the passage of a series of electrical discharges through pure oxygen. The invigorating air of open downs and moun- tain regions owes much of its health-giving properties to the presence of Ozone. The sea breeze is generally especially rich in Ozone. The presence of this gas in the air is indicated by what is termed “ Ozone test paper.” This is made of starch, and is soaked in a solution of a salt called potassium iodide, A Strip of this paper, if mois- tened and hung in a current of air, turns blue in the presence | of Ozone. Its action }| may be explained as follows. One of the constituents Of the compound known as potassium iodide is the metal potassium, between which and Oxygen a strong che- mical affinity exists. Ordinary oxygen is not sufficiently powerful, however, to decompose the salt in order to unite with the potassium. This the stronger chemical affinities of ozone enable it to accom- plish. The re- sult is that the iodine with which it is bound up is set free; and as starch, when mois- 4 tened, is al- ways turned blue by the presence of free iodine, the develop- ment of this colour in the paper shows that ozone is present. | # ***{}}|ºlt-tº-e- ºf . :li'il, |}". #|}} tº . º º PO URING CARBONIC ACID ON A. LIGHTED TAPE.R. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. a- ºr * = & º - * > * > . º iss º º sº a ~ * e-º-º-º-º: ;: 2. ºf Nº ºn 2: ... } WI. COMPOUND WOWELS. § 30. Al–6. This combination has all but disappeared from the language; having been, in almost every instance, replaced by é—as, e.g., César for Caesar,égipan for aegipan, etc. It is retained in et captera (et/-c6-té-7'a), aº'a???on, public treasury in ancient Rome, adjoule, small temple, and in other thoroughly Latin or Greek words found only in scientific works. In Caen. (cf. § 44 a), Maestricht, Maelstrom, ae = a. § 31. Ai = 6 or ē.-a. This compound vowel =é, as a verbal termination for the first person. singular: j'ai, I have (jé), je parlai, I spoke (parlé), je donne,’ai, I shall give (donneré). Should, as it occurs in interrogations, the je be put after the verb, the sound would become open, as ai-je ? have I?, (8-ie), parlašje ? did I speak? (parlºje), etc. Further, airé in gai, gaie, cheerful (ghe), gaieté or gaité (gheté), gaiement or gainvent (ſ/heman). b. The above seem to be the Only cases where ai fairly claims to possess the Sound of é, and it would indeed be a comfort to add that in all other cases ai = &. But between the two extremes there lies the debatable ground of ai with the semi-close sound (see § 22), for which no categorical rules exist. The following may serve as useful hints :— (1) At the beginning or in the body of a word, when ai is not followed by a mute syl- lable, it has a semi-close sound; otherwise it is Open. Semi-close. a iſſu, Sharp vaisselle, plate (sêl) aisance, comfort attrait, charm plaisir, pleasure Open. ai/*e, Sour (ěgre) aiſle, eagle (8gle) aise, comfort (exe) traite, draft (tréte) fraise, strawberry (frèze) baiser, kiss je baise, I kiss (bèze) laid, ugly laide, ugly (lède) grammairien, gram- clair, claire, clear marian (clère). * (2) Aimer, to love, preserves the semi-close sound, even when a mute syllable follows ai, as j'aime, I love. Aider, to help, on the other hand, is always open : Say €dé. g (3) In words cnding with ai the semi-close sound appears; but ai final, followed by 6, 68, ent, s and a (all mute terminations) has the sound of e :- Semi-close. Open. balai, broom ais, plank (8) w gea i, jay ſaics, wild sows (lè) * 7nai, may 'ils a raient, they had (áve) quai, wharf faia, burden (fe) vrai, true vraie, true (vré) (4) Some read je sais, I know, twº sais, thou knowest, il Sait, he knows, je se, twº se, il sé; but sais-je ? do I know 7 sé-je. And some pro- nouncedouaire, dower, and douairière, dowager, dou-are, dou-a-rière ; this is obsolete, the modern version being douére, douérière. 6. Ai-e mute in the syllable fais, forming a part of some tenses of the verb faire, to do, to make, and in the derivatives of faire : Jaisant =fe-sant (in poetry), f'sant (familiarly). faisons =fe-sons ( do. ).fsons ( do. . ) and so in contréfaisons, refaisaient, bienfaisant, Jaisable, faisances, etc. But to apply this rule, as Some grammars do, to faisan, a pheasant,and its derivatives faisane, faisande, faisandeau, Jaisander, faisanderie, faisandier, is a mistake ; and here fai ought to be pronounced fe (see b). d. Ai = a, when it is followed by l or lò liquid (See § 67): détail, detail (déta-ll'), ailleurs, elsewhere (a-llieta's), taille, size (ta-ll'), Per- Sailles, Versailles (versa-ll'). And also in Mon- taigné, the philosopher's name, say Montagne, not Montègne. Cavaignac. = Cavagnac. e. Ai followed by m or ºn is nasal, as in pain, bread, faim, hunger ; this peculiar sound is destroyed either by a vowel following m, and 7t, or by the diaeresis placed over i : lainage, Woollen stuff (lè-nage), aimable, amiable (é-mable) Cain, Cain (ca-in ; in is nasal—cf. § 43 b). § 32. Až =é. Chaîné, chain (shëme), maître, master (mētre), il disparait, he disappears (disparé). § 33. Aag - 6, with very few exceptions. atº, awa, to the (6) landau, landau (lam-d6) aube, dawn (6be) lou?'dawd, clumsy fellow (loor-d6) aussi, also (6-si) chaume, thatch (shöme). Here are the only genuine exceptions which, after diligent research, we have been able to discover. Ist, at the beginning of a word : aurore, dawn (07:ore), auriféré, gold-yielding (orifére), and in the future and conditional of verb avoir, to have—j'aurai, tu auras, etc. (oré, ora), j'avº'ais, etc. (orë); 2nd, in the body of a word : maure, mauresque, Moorish (more), taureau, bull (toró), tauréador, bull-fighter (to)'étido?"), taurobole, expiatory sacrifice of a bull (torobol); Saur, Sant?’e, Saºtº'et, Sawyer, fish- curing and smoking (807); Sauterne, white claret (Soterne); Paul, Paul (pol), but in any derivative of the same paw =p0; in the future and conditional of verb Savoir, to know : je saw?'ai, etc., je Sau?'ais (so)'é, Sorè). It must be added that most educated Parisians extend the open Sound to the syllable au), wherever it presents itself; for instance, they pronounce centa?/76, Laure, law?"ie?', restaºyant, restaº- 7ateur, etc., as if they were written with of most of them, also, say movais for mauvais, bad, and not méca is ; holocauste they pronounce holocoste. There are not many more words to which this remark could apply. § 34. Aſ = 8. It has been pointed out that the combination of y with any vowel presents both a compound vowel (here ai = 8) and the Sound i short, which, with any following vowel, forms a diphthong. This is the case here. Pays, Country (pê-i), paye, Salary (pè-i, but some say pè). Payement, settlement, however, is more generally pronounced pèment, for which reason the word is also spelt paiement or paſſment. Paſſeur, paymaster (pê-ieur), layette, drawer or Swaddling clothes (lè-iette); layetter, packing- box maker (lè-ie-tier), métayer, farmer renting On the footing of dividing profits with landlord * MUSIC. 187 (tè-ier). In ayant, aſſons, etc., parts of avoir, to have, pronounce é-ian, 6-ion, etc. But in ayan, superior Turkish officer of police, bayadère, nautch girl, Bayard, Mayenne, Mayence, payelle, pan for Salt-refining, paſſén, pagan, treat y as one i, and Say a-ian, ba-ia-dere, Ba-iard, Ma-ienne, Ma-ience (ians, cf. 45), pa-ielle, pa-ien. (See § 45.) Bayer, to gape, though pronounced by some bai-ier, is less consistently, but more generally, pronounced ba-ie)'. In proper names, where ay is followed by a consonant, or where ay (also a ye) forms the final syllable, ay is pronounced & : Corday, Orsay, Vevay; Bayle, Raymond; la Haye, Iłowssaye. § 35. Eau = 6.—Examples ; eau, water (6), chameau, camel (shamó), beauté, beauty (bóté). No exceptions. 36. Ei = 3.-Examples : baleine, whale (balène), pleine, full (plene). In a few words, the sound is very long : reine, queen (?'éne), a'e?tre, German mercenary (0.6tre). In some words the sound is a little closer afid recalls the semi-close e, but this hair-splitting would be of no practical use to the English student. § 37. a. Eu and au have two sounds, one close and the other open. The latter resem- bles that of u in mºder, but well drawn out ; the former has no equivalent in English. To produce it, pronounce the same word murder, while bringing closer together your lips and jaws, and starting the sound from the roof of the mouth and not from the centre of it. The German sound 6 is an equivalent for ew close. 6. The close sound occurs—1st, at the be- ginning of the words eucharistie, euphonie, eucolage, Eugène, Eugénie, eupatoire, Euménides, euphorbe, eudiste, Eustache, etc.; 2nd, at the end of words, whether ew, and a u are followed or not by inarticulated consonants (or ew by an e mute), blew, bleue, bleus, bleues, blue (also bleuâtre, blewir), naeud, knot, raºu, wish, vacuaº, wishes, il pewt, he can, meretta', nephews, boufs, oxen, monsieur, sir, messieux's, gentlemen ; 3rd, before tº : feutre, felt, cal- feutrer, to stop chinks, neutre, neutral, new- traliser, neutralité, etc.; 4th, before a' and 8 having the soft sound of z (see §§ 74 and 82): creuse, hollow, crewser, to dig out, ſn'acieuse, graceful, gracieusement, gracefully, deva'ième, second, deua ièmement, secondly : 5th, when the circumflex is over the u in cu; jetime, fast, jeúner, jeńneur, ječineuse. c. The open sound occurs—1st, when ent and aeu are placed before r = peur', fear, malheur, misfortune, saeuſ', sister, sieur, sir (yet close in monsieu)" and messieurs, words in which the " is quite mute), Europe, Europe, fleur, flower, fleuri), to bloom ; 2nd, before any other arti- culated final consonant : tilleul, linden-tree, filleul, god-son, sewl, alone, awf, egg, baºuf, ON, veuf, widower; 3rd, before l liquid (see § 66): deuil, mourning, linceul, shroud, add ail, eye, and its derivatives aeillade, as illet, etc.; 4th, before any final mute syllable: æuvre, work, cow- leuvre, snake, jeune, young, meute, pack of hounds, preuve, proof, ils reulent, they wish, que je veuille, that I may wish, feuilles, leaves, aveugle, blind. The derivatives of the above have also the open Sound : jewnesse, youth, went vage, widowhood, désaeuvrement, idleness, aveuglement, blindness, etc. Jºe mark,-In all the forms of avoir where ew appears, it has the sound of the French at : eu, had (u) : j eus, I had (zhu), nous citmes, we had (noo-zámes), que vous eussiaz, that you might have (ke voo zussié), cte. Also in gaffeure, bet, manſ/eure, Ilibbling, gnawing of moths, etc., vergeure, water-mark in paper, and a few more where e is used for the soften- ing of g (pronounce gazhure, manzhure, ve?'- zhure). Only in one instance does eu followed by n form a nasal sound,-à jeun, fasting ; this is destroyed by an e mute, as shown by the examples cited in b 5 of this section. EXERCISE V. Read aloud with the close sound : Adieu, aževa", Andrieur. Amblete use, loudewse, boweva', cewa', crewse, delicientar, Dreux, ew.c, few, Greuze, gueua, hargneuse, heurewar, jew, joyeur, Ziew, licentiewa! (t = s.), je mews, twº meus, il mewt, meunier, no?uds, aeuſs, pleutre, queue, réceuse, sérieuw, terreur, vacu, raeva, yewar. Read with the open Sound : afteul, boudeur, cueille, deuil, épagmeul, feuillage, gueule, heure, jeune, lin- ceul,” meule, meubles, ils meuvent, neuf, neufs, neuve, neuves, Ceillette, peur, queussi-queumi, seul, seuls, seule, seules, treuil, veuille. § 38. Ey = 8. Examples : bey, governor of Turkish province, also ruler of Tumis (bě): deſ, title of the old governor of Algiers (dē); Meyr- ville (měr-ville), Ney (né), Volney (vol-nē). Grasseyer, to burr (or bur, a huskiness in sounding the letter 7, as if a flock of n:ool were in the throat), is pronounced gra-se-ić, whereas grasseyment and grasseyew) are respectively pronounced gra-Sè-ye-man, gra-Sè-ieur. 39. CE = 6, in the body of a few scientific terms borrowed from the Greek, such as coºlia- que, camogone, canologie, ca'nure, faſtus. a =& at the beginning of the words ancie, a cum 6- mique, adème, (Edipe, aºnanthe, and all com- pounds of aeno, wine ; in aesophage, a stre, etc. $ 40. CEu: see § 37. § 41. Ou = 00 in the English word root : ouvrier, workman (oo-rrié) laboure?!?!, ploughman (boo) cow, neck (coo) * tour, tower (too) The circumflex over ou, as in cotter, croſite, août, etc., is an etymological sign, and does not affect the pronunciation : coiſter, O.F. coster, then couster, from Ilatim constaye, etc. THE THIRD STEP IN SINGING. POSSIBLY the student is beginning to wonder when he will reach the explanation of the staff and its notes and symbols. Let him rest * This is pronounced with the liquid Sound, as if it, were spelt linceuil. IS8 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. assured that the course he is pursuing is the rººm quickest and surest for this very The º: nota purpose. We delay the introduc- OIl, tion of the staff, not from any wish to ignore it, but in order that it may be intelligently comprehended. We are now im- planting the principles of music in the stu- Klent's mind, and he will quickly apply them to the staff when the proper time comes for explaining it. Two new tones must now be recognised and remembered,—Fah and Lah. Fah comes be- tween Me and Soh, and Lah Fah and Lah, between Sol, and Te. The cha- racter of the tones should be studied in the following exercises. The piano gives Lah much too sharp, and destroys its proper “touching ” offect. The self-teacher will find the true tone better, by thinking of a tone higher than Soh and lower than Te, which is “ sad and mourn- ful” in effect. Fah, when sung slowly, is commonly called among Tonic Solfaists “the desolate or awe-inspiring tone.” In using the manual signs we represent Lah by the hand hanging down from the wrist, like a weeping willow, and Fah by the forefinger pointing downwards. Fah Lah. Doh" form a major they are to be met with prominently in martial and rousing music. The other scale tones are less bold, but each has its special character, which the pupil should try to fix in his mind. These tones of the scale are in no way con- nected with any notes of the piano, or any other instrument. The piano has eighty or ninety notes. Any one of these may be a Doh, but besides these we may conceive of an infinite number of other Dohs, with six attendant tones starting into existence, the pitch of which is entirely orelative to that of Doh. Whatever may be the case with instruments, no one key is more easy to the singer than any other, nor has one key any more importance than another in the usage of composers or in the theory of harmony. To call a certain key the “natural key ’’ is therefore a licence. But it is highly convenient to have some **y ºf 9. generally understood standard of pitch, so that we may know exactly at what part of the Cl voice we are to begin every tune. The B key which has been fixed upon is that which is sounded on the white digitals of the pianoforte and organ. The Doh of G this key is called C, and the other notes F low each other, descending in the way E common chord, like Doh Me Soh and - indicated in the margin. The sounds Soh Te Ray'. of these letters are the same as those Doh is G. d, t, :d X- DOH' of the scaleal-eady learnt, thus:— 0. ****** : d | f : | TE d’ – t :l s : f |m :r d – || -—|--|--|--————--——ll- Cl |B A F E HHEEEE|| || LAH * * * * * * N. { E. T. L. | and a convenient way of remembering SOH the descending order is to note that after C come the words bag and fed. These Doh is D. |d a s : m li – | FAH notes, C, B, A, etc., unlike the Solfa sylla- () ºf ME bles, are absolutely fixed. C, for example, # T E –H– H * be Doh, *|| Te, º, to the --- –2. 3– T-L - |. key we are in ; and converse oh ma «J r Cº L |Y. RAY be C, F, D, etc. But C, º . DOH least, is always one sound, though Doh may The Scale.—We have now a key tone be a hundred different sounds. The with its six related tones, forming the modern Continental practice is to call C Scale. The student should learn these names in order by heart, so as to repeat them ascending or descending. (See the dia- gram in the centre.) He will naturally feel that of the seven tones, Doh, Me and Soh are the strongest and boldest. They are the tones which a bugle or trumpet gives when blown ; * Let the student try to fix in his mind the impression rmade by these two tones. KEY D. d : s m : 1 Dread Je - ho - vah, m . m d : 11 t : s d' : m Let Thy peo-ple's r : f |m . s : f | f : m God of tº : r r f : m m : r t * ^ 4+ t THE SCALE. na, - tions, sup - pli - ca - tions 1 : Si S1 : S. always Doh, whatever the key. This plan is called the “fixed doh,” to distinguish it it from . the older “movable doh,” a system which has prevailed in England for two or three hundred years, and is founded on the scientific basis ºf key-relationship. It will be an advantage if the student, by help of a tuning fork, can fix the absolute sound C' in The fixed and movable doh, r : m | f : m r : d [ s :- Throned in power a - |bove the skies, tº ; d ſli fi : d |t| : li | S – m : f s : dº I d' : t dº To Thy mer-cy seat a - rise, : r ſ m : 1 s : s f |m :— ºffiziąż. º † L. l =L- [. I – […T. | T- | | || *—E-HHH ==E==HTT-HT ===HºHazar {{##########: :=====Hººf rº-H GERMAN. 189 his memory, so as to be able to pitch tunes without external help. In doing Pitching of this he sounds the C' and then the key, runs down the “standard scale” to the “pitch-tone” wanted for the key. This last he sounds at greater length, and then changes it carefully into Doh. The exercises at the foot of the preceeding page are in two parts, and may be used in the same way as the previous ones. The words written between the two lines are to be sung to the music, but not at first. The notes must be learnt by Solfaing them and afterwards singing them to a uniform vowel like La. The third and last stage is to sing the words. This plan allows the attention to be fixed wholly at first upon the notes, while afterwards it is free to be fixed upon the meaning and expression of the words. The second part in this exercise must be sung by a łow voice, either male or female. Time.—We now revert to the subject of time. We have shown that a silent pulse is indicated by the absence of a note in it. A silent half-pulse is shown in the same way. There are other divi- sions of pulses—for example, the three-quarter pulse tone followed by the one-quarter (d.,d); the half-pulse tone followed by two quarter tones (d.d., d); etc. Divisions of pulses, KEY F. | m r : .d | r .d : |s f : m . . m .r ; d. || Žižº st-R-Eas Fºr ºf Gºísařºfarºi J. *-- tº KEY G. | d.r,mi:d.s, ..] :t, dr.m:f.m. ||r. : d || #EEſº KEY D. d.,m :r., f | m.s :f.1 s :- | ſy_º - _rº } † Tº: EI*T*E. . {} - - - ------- - -º-,-- - #::::Hº-H These three exercises are difficult, but they should be persevered in till perfect. All good singers possess a highly cultivated sense of rhythm, and the want of sharpness in this respect gives deadness to a musical perform- 2)3CC. The Taatai Syllables.—A set of memory- helping syllables has been invented by M. Paris, which has the same use in learning time as the Solfa syllables in learning tune. The self-teacher will find them very valuable in the analysis and memory of difficult Theºs * Thythms. The first stroke of a €, beat or pulse is called TAA, the middle stroke of a pulse (if there is a new stroke in the middle) is called TAI. This pulse d || or this ; d. | would be called TAA and this | d.r || TAATAI. The first stroke of a silent pulse or part of a pulse is marked by a slight hissing sound SAA or SAI. The first and third stroke of the quarter pulses are called ta, te; the second quarter fa, and the fourth quarter fe; so that a new stroke on all the quarters would be called “tafatefe.” Two quarters and a half are tafaTAI. A half and two quarters are called TAAtefe. Three-quarters and a quarter drop the t and name themselves TAA-efe. Two pulses also drop the T and are TAA-AA. Thirds of a pulse are named TAATAITEE, and so on. See “Standard Course.” The one thing to remember is that these TAATAI syllables are not of the slightest use unless the learner forms the habit of pronouncing every pulse in the same time—that is, of saying TAA TAA. neither quicker nor slower than TAAtefe TAATAI and tafatefe than TAA. This habit formed, the syllables will become very valu- able helps to the memory. SYNCOPATION is the interruption of that steadily recurring accent which is the Ordinary characteristic of music. It con- sists in anticipating a strong accent by taking it upon the previous soft accent. The following is a simple case of syncopation, and should be practised :— Syncopation, KEY. G., | : d d : d – as al--tº a | () lº 2- 2-> –24–173 l———||--|--|--|--|--|--| &######2======= c) - JEar Training.—The student should now ac- custom himself to recognise the Solfa names of any sounds he hears by chance from organs in the street, boys whistling, or strolling cornet or violin players. No better practice can be had. It is this faculty which gives musical intelligence, and distinguishes the musician from the singer or player by rote. The perpendicularly arranged scale tones given on the opposite page should be con- stantly used for exercises in singing. The teacher points to one note after another, and the pupil is required to produce them. Street practice, STUDY FOR READING AND PRONUNCTATION. THE following, and all subsequent studies for reading and pronunciation, are to be used like the former one. Thus, the piece is first to be read according to the pronunciation written underneath each line ; then according to the meaning of the lines; and lastly, it is to be learned by heart, and sentences are to beformed from it, as given below:— 190 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. 2[6en bgruff." Ah/-bend-grooss. EVENING GREETING. I. Gjute 9tadt, gute 9tadt' goo'-te macht, goo'-te macht Good night, good night ! ©termſetm” fommen ſtill umb fadjt, stai?'n'-line kom/-men still und Sacht Little stals come still and gently, Smmer eineč mad) bent amberm ſim-mer "-nes nach dame an'-dern Always one after the other $ommen ſte §erbor umb nyamberm Jºom'-men zee hare-foreſ unt van'-dern Come they forth and wander Øroben" burd bie ſtiſſe 9?adjt. dro'-ben durch dee stil-le macht Above through the still night ! II. Gjute 9tadt, gute 9tadt, goo'-te macht, goo'-te macht, Good night, good night ©eſt ben J'omb, note 50ſp er ſafft, zayt dane moand, vee holld airr lacht, See the moon, how fair he laughs, limb ſo madīt et ſeiſe, ſeiſe, wnt zo macht airr ly'-zeh, ly'-zºh, And so makes he quietly, quietly, Øort am * ºimmeſ feine Steife dort am him'-mel zy'-ne ry'-zeh There in the heaven his journey ©tiſſ umb freunbſidy" burd bie Stadt. still unt froind"-lich doorch dee macht Still and friendly through the night. REMARKS ON THE PRON UN CIATION, ETC. * Gruss, greeting, is a radical or original word. From it we form gruszen, to greet, etc. * Sternleyn, the diminutive of Stern, a star. The Hanoverlans pronounce the st as it is written ; the other Germans pronounce it with an sh sound—shterm- lein, shtell, etc. The former way is considered the more correct, but it must not be given with too hissing a sound. * Droben is a contraction of da obem, there above; in the same way we have drumten, below, drauszem, with- out, and drunnen, within. * Hold to be pronounced like “holly.” The termina- tion lich is the English “like,” shortened into ‘ly.” * Am is the contraction of am dem, at or in the. * The word Himmel is here in the dative case, after the preposition an signifying where. STUDY IN GERMAN CALLIGRAPHY. Like the former study in German hand- writing, the following lines must be compared with the printed-letter lines underneath, then read alone, without the assistance of the lines below, and then copied out, first line by line, each being repeated several times, and then as a complete piece :— 2.4 & /& * 2.2% Gute nacht, gute %24, * Sternlein Kommen <2* 22.22% 2&Z ZZZZZ ºzzz/2^zz Immer eines Inach * e.” - 22*. 2. /*eer 22* *A ie Kommen S hervor Droben durch die £4 & zº 2.94% Gute nacht, gute nacht! still und Sacht, dem andern und wandern, stille nacht. nacht ! - & 4 ºz. … A*, 4% Seht den rºº mond 2. wie *}. hold er .. lacht. GERMAN. */ ZZ (c macht er %22%2% Und So 101 4%, 4% leise, leise, /2%.2° *CZ-22 %,”zº/* % Dort, 3. IOl Himmel seine Reise Ž22//*/ */ 2% *// Still und freundlich Eaſercise on the Foregoing Study. The following sentences may be written down in German, and then compared with the German version given below. They are founded on the foregoing little poem, which should be learnt by heart:— The night has little stars. The little stars come forth, one after another. They wander through the night. The night has a moon. The moon makes her journey through the night. The moon and the little stars wander silently. The moon laughs fair. See the moon in the sky. See how the little stars come, so still and gently. Good night German Version. Øte 9tadt 9at ©ternſein. ©ie Gºterm ein dee macht hat stair'n'-line dee stairnſ-line fommen jerbor eineč maſſ, bem anberm. kom-men hare-fore' i'-ness mach dame an’-dern ©ie mamberm burd) bie º: 2ée vanſ-dern doorch dee macht. Øie Stadt 9at einen S)?omb. Qer ºomb dee macht hat iſ-nen moand dare moand madīt ſeine Steife burd) bte 9tadt. 3)er gnacht cy'-ne ry'-se durch dee macht, dare $)2 onb unb bte (35ternſein nyanbern ſtiſſe. moand unt dee stai?'n'-line van'-dern stil/-le Øer 9)?omb ſac{\t joſb. ©eſt ben S)?omb dare moand lacht holld Zayt dane moand an $5tnuteſ. ©ebt tote bie G5ternſeilt am himſ-mel. zayt vee dee stairn'-levn fommen, ſo ſtiſſ umb fadjt. Gjute 9tadt. Kom/-men, 20 still unt zacht, goo'te macht. STUDIES ON THE VERB ©abem-(continued), III.-For translation into German—Sentences on the first four tenses of the verb. For com'rection see Gén'mam version below. These eacercises should be myritten out. He has a friend. I have had a garden. My friend has not a daughter. Have you no money? They have not had time. My sister has had flowers. My brother had not had a teacher. . My (female) friend has horses. Has he dogs? Hast thou had the pencils? The boy has had the umbrella. My son had yester- &lay a book. My sister had had a watch. Henry had had apples. John had not time. Charles has apples but no pears. We have tº-day had strawberries. Have you the key? The man has had the coats. Where have I durch die nacht. had the pleasure ? My friend and I have had the pleasure. He and I have had plums. He has not the forks, but he has the spoons. We have not had the pencils, but we have had the penknives. Hadst thou had the inkstands? Where had you the horses? Where had they had the money 2 Have we not to-day the houses 7 Had you not yesterday time ! German Version of the foregoing. (ºr 9at einen ärcumb. Sd) babe einen air” hat "-nen froint ich ha'-be i'-nen (jarten geşabt. , 9tein Šteumb bat midſt garr'-ten ge-habt' mine froint hat nicht eine 3 offer. Saben Gºie fein Gjeſb 2 G5te i’-me toch'-tez' ha'-ben zee kine gelt 2.66. ſaben midſt 3eit ge)abt., SJºeine 3d moeſter haſ-ben nicht tsite ge-habt my’-me shvester bat Söſumten gebabt. 9)?ein Söruber 9atte hat bloo'-men ge-habt' mine broo'-der hat-te midt einen Seffret gebabt. Jºeine $reunbin micht 'ſ-nen lair"-er ge-habt' my’-me froind' in ſat ºfcrbe. Sat er pumbe? §aſt Qu bie hat pſair'-de hat air” hunde hast doo dee Steiftiſte ge)abt? 3)er &mdöe ſat ben bly'-stifte ge-habt' dare knah'-be hat dane Stegenſtjirnt ge)abt. ºein (305m batte ray'-gen-sheer” ge-habt' mine zone hat'-te geſtern ein Sud). SJ'eime (3d)nyeſter Öatte guest-errn ºne booch my'-ne shrest'-er hat-te etite liſt ge)abt. Seinrid) batte 2ſpfeſ iſ-ne oorr ge-habt' Hume'-rich hat'-te epp'-fel geşabt. Spùnn batte midt 3ett. Starſ go-habt' Yo'-hann hat-te mucht tsite Karrl §at 2(pfeſ aber feine Söirmen. §§ir hat epp'-fel ah-berr ky'-ne beer?'-men veer” baben Öcute Großeeren ge)abt. $50.6em ha'-ben hoi'-te airt'-bair-en go-habt' haſ-ben ©te ben Ödyſtiſeſ. Øer $)?ann Óat bie zee dame schlues'-sel dare mann hat dee Stöfe ge)abt. §§o 9abe id) baş Şere roeck'-e ge-habt' aro ha'-be ich dass fer'- gmigen geºgbt 2, §D'eim $reunb limb id; baben gnué'gen ge-habt' mine froint unt ich ha'-ben bač Šergmügen gelyabt. (ºr umb td) dass fer-gnue'-gen ge-kaët' aim” unt ich Wabert ºfſounten ge)abt. (ºr Öat miſjt bie ha'-ben pflow'-men ge-habt air” hat nicht dee Gjabeſm, aber er flat bte 86ffeſ. Şir gah'-beln ah'-be, air” hat dee loef'sfel, veer” baben midt bie $8ſetſtifte geşabt, aber ha'-ben nicht dee bly'-stifte ge-habt ah'-ber 192 TIME UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. moir baben bie Şebermeſſer geşābt. reer, haſ-ben dae fay'-deº'-meš-ser geº-habt Satteſt Qu bie gointenfäffer gebabt? §§o hat'-test doo dee din'-ten-fes-ser ge-habi' vo batten Gie bie $ferbe? §§o batten fie baá hat'-ten zee dee pſair'-de vo hat-ten zee dass Gjeſt gehabt? §abem moir midt jºute bie gelt ge-ſhabt' haſ-ben veer, nicht houſ-te dee Soduſer 2 patten (ºte midt geſtern 32it? hoiſ-zer hat-ten zee macht guest'-67’7” tsite W. IT will doubtless have been observed, by those who have perused our former papers, that the examples adduced were on a larger scale than any ordinary writing. The object in view in this is that the movements of the thumb and fingers may not be cramped in their initiatory exer- cises, but May acquire boldness and freedom by being obliged to form strokes of at least an inch in length. Nothing will tend so much to the speedy attainment of a masterly style of penmanship as the practice of elementary forms on a large scale and the subsequent adoption of largetext. Such practice strengthens the mus- cles which are called into use in writing, gives facility in executing all varieties of line and curve, and forms the only sure preparation for the attainment of an easy and flowing current hand. Even for young children the exercises are not too large. “To correct any awkward habit in the form or inclination of the letters,” says Barrow, “ one of the most useful expedients is to make the pupil write a much larger hand than he has ever before attempted.” It is probable that in some instances the pupil will find that after he has written perhaps a couple of lines his hand will become unsteady and the muscles of the thumb and palm ache slightly. With a very little perseverance, however, this incon- venience will disappear—that is, If the hand be kept in the proper position. If the trembling and rigidity continue, it can only be due to the fact that the thumb and fingers are wrongly placed, and reference should be made to the description in a former paper of the proper position of the hand. SIMPLE FORMS. We will suppose that the pupil has practised the strokes, pothooks, hangers, etc., given in a former lesson, on the large scale there shown, until a tolerable degree of dexterity at least has Strokes been obtained. Similar exercises, ' only upon a smaller scale, must follow, as shown at figs. 1, 2, 3, and 4. These copies should each be practised for some time, especially the last. With regard to the strokes, it is simply necessary to make a slight horizontal movement of the pen at the top, of the exact width of the stroke. If the pen be then pressed the top will be left perfectly Square even in the Large scale of copies, largest letters, and it will only be requisite to keep an equable pressure upon the pen, in order that the stroke may be of uniform thickness in its entire length. The proper pressure must be put upon the pen at the very instant of commencing the stroke, and not be relaxed until it is very nearly completed. The pen should then be slightly lightened, and afterwards proceed, with a horizontal movement, from the left to the right corner, which will leave the bottom of the stroke square. Unless this rule be ad- hered to, the top and bottom of the stroke will never present that square, finished appearance which they should do. The “hanger,” or first portion of the letter m (fig. 2) ... comes next. The hair-stroke of this form begins on the left side, about half-way down, and should be carried up without turning the pen in the least degree. After the proper curve is made the pen should be gradually pressed so that the turn of the curve may be smoothly and symmetrically formed. As much weight should be borne on the top as the bottom, and the tendency of the untaught hand to increase the pressure as it goes down must be guarded against. The “pothook,” or first portion of the letter w (fig. 3), is com- menced in a precisely similar manner to that of the stroke. The turn at the bottom of the letter presents some difficulty at the beginning, but as it is the key to all the other turns compre- hended in the letters of the alphabet, much care should be devoted to its attainment. The pen itself should not be turned in the least degree, but gradually lightened and brought up, proceeding with a curvilinear sweep and a very slow motion until it has reached a distance of half the perpendicular height of the stroke to which it is attached. This bottom turn corre- sponds precisely to that at the top of the previous char, ter, so that if such a turn bo added to the “hanger” we obtain a charactor which has the same form whichever end is placed upwards (fig. 4). This latter elementary form should also be well practised, and the pupil can then proceed to the small o (fig. 5). It has been said that the accuracy of this letter is the ruling principle in determining the proper method of holding the pen and the correct posi- tion of the body, as unless these The letter “o.” are attended to it is almost im- º possible to form a succession of small o's of correct shape. This letter is begun about one- third, or rather less, down on the right-hand side, from thence proceeding over to the left side in a circular direction. On pressing the pen to make the full downstroke, the hollow part of the nib should be exactly towards the paper and the end of the holder pointing directly to the right shoulder. To form the bottom curve the pen should be more lightly held and drawn up, but not turned in the least, the light three-quarter stroke on the left hand being made with the back of the nib, or right corner of the pen. It is excellent practice when the learner has arrived at this point to practise the character given at fig. 4 and the o alternately in the line, at first separate, and subsequently combined, varying the copies by occasionally writing an entire line of either character. Pothooks '' and “hangers,” A G || | O 5 ANATO MY & ARITH METIc & || | ASTRONO MY -- | || BIOGRAPHY -. BOTANY : * * ll. CHEMISTRY : º K. º tº º ſº º Rºº. ºw & 8 * * * ºn §§§ ſº § º ºn e a sº tº ºº & tº ºr ºut Jº tº º ſº SºS §§ [* L tº lº tº tº Architecture || Book-KEEPINC | |L º º sº cº-º a º ºs-rary wºrvºº-ºººººººººººººoº-FEºPºrsº a sºre's sº-sºo assºcce = < e < a.s.º.o.o s a sºlº e s sº Pºlº.º.º.o. º.º.º.º.Sººººººººººº...º.º.º. Sºº's ºe is alsº ºn tº ºxxºlºlº's A º sº º QQ's ºa º ºººººººººº e º e º sº a sº ſº sº ºr rºººººººººººººº exºGº Hºt Cºcº Cºcºcººººººººººººººº. C ºn Gº tº ººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººº sºººº sº Cocº e º as e exº sººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººººº S3 5's tº tº º º SºśPBS.ºsºcºSºº bºº sº a tºº eºs's sº 53585855; ºf jº º ſºul . . . . . . iſ lººm º ºsº º A. º * † - sº º, Sº SºH. Ǻ ºt sº ©º gº tºº º cºrre & & Cº. ºº tº º ceography. GEO LOGY - - - UERMAN - - - - CRAN/MAR . . | GREEK - - - - || || HISTORY - - - || ITALIAN ºr . LAT | N. C C C tº C C - C LOC C " ". MACNETISM NAENSURATION METEoRolody. MineRALOGY : MUSIC * * * PAl NT IN C ºr " PENMANSHIf || PERSPECTIVE * : PHYSICS … . PHYSIOLO CY i SHORT-HAND . . SPANISH . .'; STEAM-ENGINE SURVEY IN C TRICONOft ETRY & “ , 8. § cEotte‘TRY & II LogăRTHMs. Marchanics . I Nºvicarion : I. FOR ALL 2.JULLY- *ILLUSTRATED, AGENTS FOR AMERICA : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY., 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New York. *t Jºº . *s, * * *. & asº Qº \ .* * * * * * * ~ *-* *-*...* * * ~ * *** * * ***** * * * * Complete in 39 IMonthly Parts. *** * w r" -- - -- - --- A - * -- *. - -- - *p- * -> -*-*- - THE NEW SERIAL FOR SELF-EDUCATORs. Forming the Cheapest and most Useful Work ever issued for the People. PRICE 25 CENTS, MONTHLY, * W A R D & L O C K’S UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR: Or, Self-Culture for All. *...* With PART I. is PRESENTED GRATIS a Valuable CHART OF THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, and with PART III, a CHART illustrating the INTELLECTUAL AND IMATERIAT, PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. !! RECOGNISING the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exists for carefully prepared literature suited to the wants of Self-Educators, WARD, Lock & Co. have prepared a Serial Work of an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete Encyclopædia of Learning, meeting the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such features as will, the Publishers confidently believe, give it a marked superiority over every similiar undertaking. The comprehensive- ness of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illustrations, the convenience of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominent position. *. It CANNOT BE Too OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, for, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. Hence naturally arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on better terms with those around, not only in business but in social life? This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR undertakes to an SWer. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will be nothing short of a University at Home, and will admirably suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. *. At the same time, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will not overlook the wants of those more fortunately situated. It will contain exact information on every subject likely to be useful to those able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. ~, THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will cover the whole field of knowledge. They will extend, as will be seen from the list given on page 3, from the most elementary to the most advanced, and, taken together, will form a perfect system of Intellectual Culture. The latest thought of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, will find adequate representation; and whilst we would avoid pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in affirming that our lessons will prove eminently lively and interesting. THE WRITERs will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics with which they deal, and in nothing, the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, will the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR be more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. BUT THE OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will not be only to impart learning and make well-informed men. It will always be kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to lead wiser and better lives. The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will endeavour to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making students, it fails to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. Such, then, being the OBJECTS and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the Publishers confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not?—in the elevation of the people, the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will be slow to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations so elevated. “añage aſ things, stung. Uſabether fur the flake ºf ſearning ur fur any other reason, gtung. āfur ſubatcher tijs mutifle; that impel guu at first, puu (uill hern suum Infle stung fur its uſun gaſte.” * is ºr ziit of subjects included in THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, and for Opinions of the British Press, see pages 3 and 4 of cover, *A*- -** *- Sºº-º-ºx **-ºsº, . NEW YORK : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. -** ** d-º-º- *--- POTA. W.Y.) 193 THE LEAVES-continued. IN several large families of plants, both her- baceous and arborescent, the leaves, instead of having a mid- rib, one and one only, present a radiating frame- work, aptly com- pared to that of a lady’s fan, whence their ap- pellation of “fan- veined.” The Cen- tral vein is still the strongest, and usually extends farther than the ribs to the right and left of it, but on the whole the proportions are much alike (Figs. 34, 35). Leaves of this character are almost always deeply lobed, as excellently set forth in many kinds of Passion- flower, the lobes sometimes reach- ing nearly to the base, when the 4 leaf is said to be “palmate.” Theo- retically,the great fissures between the lobes are at- tributable, like those of the pin- natifid leaves, to a deficiency of the remoter part of the general skeleton. Among these again there is a very charming diver- sity, the lamina being sometimes nearly circular, as in the Acer circinatum ; in other plants split as it were, little by little, until at last, in certain mallows, there is nothing left but the counterpart of the claw of a sparrow. Now and then, as in the Batwing passion-flower, the central Vein stops immediately after starting, so WOL, I, : FIG. 34.—FAN-VEINED LEAF, - º & zº Šºš ſ that the lateral lobes of the leaf project like wings. n In many simple leaves the idea announced in the pinnatifid ones is carried out to a degree inconceivable save for its constant e illustration. Look, for example, Multifid at a leaf of Parsley, which is con- leaves. structed essentially, as to venation, upon the same plan as Some of the large and broad ones that are provided with midrib and naeandering outflow. The only difference, as regards vena- -- tion,between such a leaf as that of parsley and one from a black poplar, is that in the former the raterals and their branchlets are straight, whereas in the poplar leaf they wander wa- riously. Appar- ently constituted of a thousand minute leaflets, the first impres- sion concerning the parsley leaf is that it must belong to the com- peund class. Now once again, note the great and in- variable distinc- tion between simple and com- pound. In com- pound leaves the elementary pieces or leaflets, as said before, are articu- lated to the stalk, and easily Snap off ; whereas in simple leaves, however split up, every atom is per- fectly confluent with its neigh- can be removed, i º i. ń , º'º §§§ § º ! • º i º itſ: º * bours, and not a particle without cutting or tearing. This is plainly seen by looking at the ex- '(\ Nº.2° tremities of the parsley leaf, where everything will be found confluent; and what is true of a leaf in any One portion, is always true of it as a whole. On the same prin- ciple, the remotest and tiniest leaf- FIG. 35.-FAN-VEINED LEAF. lets of a compound leaf, even a doubly com- pound one, such as that of the Acacia Lophantha of the parlour window, are perfectly inde- 13 194 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, pendent, separate, and isolated; whence it is that in decay the acacia leaf disintegrates, Whereas the parsley leaf lives and dies a unit. -- * ~ * - The close external re- - & semblance of these deeply cut simple leaves to the genuine compound ones has necessarily led to much confusion on the part of inaccurate ob- servers. Botanical au- thors are accustomed to define the compound leaf correctly, but they very often cite split-up simple leaves, such as parsley, as examples, which of course is quite wrong. For ordinary practical FIG. 36.-BINATE LEAF AND TEN DRIL. purposes, perhaps it maybe allowableto callsuch leaves “compound”; but if original and change- less structural conditionis to count as of import- ance to science, the exact student will insist upon first principles being observed here as elsewhere. The best name to apply to these much-divided simple leaves is “pseudo-com- pound.” This will embrace both the doubly pinnatifid, as illustrated in the scabious and the tansy, and the type so commonly met with in the Umbelliferae, and nowhere set forth more excellently than in Parsley, or in Hemlock, Conium maculatum, and its beautiful relative, the common Anthºriscus Sylvestris, the first of the family to come in blossom, and which in May so covers the hedgebanks with its white bloom, that a little way off it resembles the surf of the incoming Sea. How beautifully all the sweet and grand ideas of nature are accustomed to reproduce themselves in varied forms 1 Vegetation, in particular, takes up all that pertains to the inanimate part of the world. Mosses and Sela- ginellas recapitulate in green life the crystal- lized tracery seen upon the window-panes on frosty mornings, upon which the peculiar massing of the foliage of not a few of the great forest trees seems likewise modelled; the sym- metry of stars and crystals, and their exquisite hues, are renewed, on the higher plane, by the treasures of the flower-garden; the very name of the Iris Tefers us to its antecedent, the rainbow. Compound leaves, like simple ones, are re- Solvable into two or three distinct classes. When formed as in the Rose * and the Robinia, they are termed Tºi “pinnate,” this term holding good whatever the number of leaflets, which often does not exceed five. A com- pound leaf of this character, when reduced to Only three leaflets, as in clover, is termed “trifoliolate”; and if, as sometimes happens, there is but a single pair of leaflets, it be- comes “binate.” A very pretty example of the last-named is furnished by the yellow Vetchling of the meadows, Lathyrus pratensis, which plainly shows also, by means of the tendril between the two leaflets, that Nature has provided it by suppressing the customary upper pairs and the terminal leaflet as well. For if the tendril be uncurled, and laid out in unity l’” plex. In a few cases there flat, it will be found to consist of the midribs of three or five undeveloped leaflets, withheld in order to provide the plant with this most useful apparatus for lifting itself away from the ground. Too weak *: and limp to stand erect, these twining green fingers take hold of grasses, thorns, or what- ever Suitable prop may gº be nearest, and the Š deficiency of strength ; to rise independently, as most plants do, is perfectly compensated. Not only do binate leaves on weak-stem- med plants possessthese ingenious climbing in- struments; tendrils of precisely similar origin and history occur likewise on many pinnate leaves when the stem is attenuated, as fami- liarly illustrated in vetches. Here it may be mentioned that leaf-tendrils are by no means confined to compoundleaves. Plants of various and very different families are found manifest- ing the Selfsame kind of Self-assisting instinct. The simple and undivided leaves of that mag- nificent East Indian climber, the GlorioS3, a kind of lily, lengthen themselves at the ex- tremity into spiral coils, which execute pre- cisely the same purpose as the more elaborately formed tendrils of the vetchling. Some of the South American Mutisias, plants belonging to the daisy family, lift themselves from the ground, upon which they would otherwise trail, after precisely the same manner. Everywhere in nature the reflective observer sees the great law of compensation declaring itself. In no instance, however, is it manifested more cen- spicuously than in the kindly gift to these feeble Vetches, Gloriosas, Mutisias, and the like, of the ability to climb. Note also that when there is a deficiency of external props, the vetches join hands with one another, linking arm to arm, and in the stability thus acquired give to mankind a capital lesson in the fine art of brotherly love. “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together FIG. 37.--PARSLEY. Many tropical trees and shrubs, and a few that belong to cool coun- tries, possess “doubly pinnate’’ leaves. Instead ºt of two, three, five, or more pairs of leaflets, arranged as in the Ro- binia, Smaller pinnate leaves are thrown out right and left, and the Tesult, as would be an- ticipated, is extremely elegant as well as com- FIG. 38,-DOUBLY PIN NATIE LEAVES. a re only two such branches; Sometimes there are four or six; and in many of the acacias the number is consider- able. This kind of leaf is shown also in certain Mimosas and Jacarandas, and may be recog- FREWOH GRAMMA R. nized, in the open garden, in the American tree called the Gleditschia. The last named pre- sents the additionally interesting feature of pinnate and doubly pinnate leaves on the same twig, with an endless variety of intermediate or transitional forms; thus in its own sphere disporting itself after the same manner as the scabious. The absence in nature of all “class legislation” is one of its most alluring cha- racteristics. There would seem to be not a Single particular of structure in plants, not a single phenomenon in their physiology, that can be claimed by any one species, or even by any one section, as peculiarly its own. The participators may be a hemisphere asunder, but when inquired for, they are never wanting. The palmate and fan-veined types of simple Žeaves have their counterpart among the com- I)igitate leaves pound in the very striking and ; ... distinct form termed the “digi- tate.” This is shown in perfec- tion in the Horse-chestnut (fig. 33), and the garden Lupines. Instead of being arranged in pairs, the leaflets radiate from the extremity of the petiole, in fives, sevens, nines, and in certain kinds of lupine to a considerably higher num- ber. In old age they disarticulate very readily. The fragments of the horse - chestnut leaves. strewing the ground in October present a re- Ymarkable spectacle, the most curious of its kind which this country affords. The digitate leaves of the lupines are interesting in another way. In most of the species, towards nightfall, the teaflets bend backwards against the stalk, and partially fold up, so that the leaf resembles a half-closed parasol. In early morning they rise, and re-assume their day position, which they hold till the next evening, when they droop again, the process of rise and fall being repeated until the vigour of the organ departs. This curious and engaging movement is no doubt dependent, in great measure, upon the influence of the Solar ray. But there is something be- sides, still to be discovered ; for the move- ment in question is only one of a large class of COTresponding phenomena, with some of which the Solar light appears to be very slightly, or not at all connected. Nor is it by any means confined to the lupine. The leaflets of very many pinnate leaves, doubly pinnate leaves, and trifoliolate leaves, move, morning and even- ing, quite as regularly, and with a strange and inexplicable personality of method which one can regard only with silent wonder. The tri- foliolate leaf of the White Clover, Trifolium repens, brings its lateral leaflets face to face, and places the third or terminal leaflet at right angles to them. The trifoliolate leaf of the wood-sorrel does just the contrary, posing in the same manner as the lupine, which plant is not, as one would expect, a Čousin of its own, but of the clover. The phenomena of morning and evening change of position long since received the appellation of “sleep ’’ and “waking.” Without doubt there is something very suggestive if not representa- tive of sleep in the nocturnal closing, but there is no real similarity, any more than in the even- ing shut of the flowers of the marigold and the daisy, a subject to be adverted to by-and-by, º ... º.º. 2 ... ºr F: º % * Nº º #Ngº VII. THE NOUN (continued), THEORY. THIRD RULE.—All nouns are feminine which end in evº, ion, té, tié, and e mute. EXCEPTIONS. In evº": bonheur, happiness; cour, heart; chaeur, choir; eastérieur, outside; Équateur', equator; honneur, honour; intérieur, inside ; labeur, work; malheur', mis- fortune ; moteur, propeller; pleurs, tears; sectew?', sector; ventilateur, wentilator; along with multiplica- teur, multiplier ; and similarly formed words. In ion : bastion, bastion; billion, 1000 millions; b?'imborion, trifle ; camion, small pin OT large dray ; Groupion, rump; gabion, gabion; galion, galleon ; horion, knock on the head; lampion, earthenware saucer filled with tallow (used for illuminations); lion, Tion; million, million; morion, head- piece ; pion, pawn; scion, shoot ; Scorpion, Scorpion ; Septentrion, north ; talion, Tetaliation ; trillion, One million millions. In té: aparté, an aside; arrété, decree; bené- dicité, grace ; comité, committee ; comté, county ; cóté, side; 6té, Summer; pâté, pie; précipité, preci- pitate; traité, treaty; velouté, down. In mutee: over 500 exceptions, to which re- ference will be made in the course of the lessons. Practical Application, l. WOCABULARY IV. Les Boissons (Beverages):— TA’eau, water. minérale, mineral do. de Seltz, Seltzer do. la bière, beer. Ia petite bière, small beer. l’ale, ale. - He cidre, cider. He poiré, pear-wine. He win, wine, Ordinaire, common do. vieux, old do. nouveau, new do. blanc, white do. rouge, red do. Ymousseux, sparkling do. de #. dinner do. r de France français, " }French do. de Bourgogne, Burgundy. de Bordeaux, claret. de Champagne, champagne. du Vin de C. frappé, iced do. de la tisane de C., light do. les wins d'Espagne, Spanish wines. du Vin de Malaga, Malaga wine. le win de Xérès, sherry wine. d’Oporto, port do. de Madère, Madeira do. de Hongrie, EIungarian do. le tokai, Tokay. le win du Rhin, Rhenish wine, hock. 196 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. le vin vieux du Rhin, old hock les liqueurs, liqueur8. l'arack, arrack. l'eau-de-vie, brandy. le genièvre, gin. le rhuEn (pr. rom'), rum. le whiskey, whiskey. le punch (pr. ponsh), punch. le café, coffee. le café noir, black coffee. le café au lait, coffee with milk. le thé (pr. té), tea. le chocolat, chocolate. la limonade, lemonade. gazeuse, bottled do. de l'eau glacée, iced water. l'orgeat, almond-milk. des glaces, ices. des sorbets, sherbets. » REMs.—1. It is in better taste to say j'ai bu du vin ' de Bourgogne, il aime le vin de Champagne, than t9 say j'ai bu du bourgogne, il aime le champagne. 2, Claret comes from vin clairet, a clear red Wine. 3. Hock comes from Hochheimer, the name of a special grOWth 6f Rhenish wine, which has becOme generiC. " 2. There are a few cases where the English verb to be is rendered by avoir in French : to be thirsty, avoir soif, as J'ai soif, I am thirsty. to be hungry, avoir faim, as As-tu faim ? art thou hungry ? to be right, avoir raison, as Il n'a pas raison, he is not right. to be #g, avoir tort, as A-t-elle tort ? is she wrong ? 'to be ashamed, avoir honte, as NOuS aVOnS hOnte, ace are ashamed. to be afraid, avoir peur, as N'avez-vous pas peur ? - are you not afraid ? e e to be slèepy, avoir sommeil, a8 Ils avaient sommeil, they were sleepy. there tö be, y avoir, as Il y a trois hommes, there are three mem. to be something the matter, avoir quelque chOse, a8 Qu'ont-ils ? what is the matter with them ? 3. Voici, here is, here are, or behold. voilà, there is, there are, or behold. 4. The simple tenses of Avoir - Present infinitire, avoir, to have. Present participle, ayant, ha ving. Past participle, eu, had. $ INDICATIVE. Perfect Definite. j'eus, I had tu eus, thou hadst il eut, he had nous eûmes, mve had vous eûtes, you had ils eurent, they had P)'esent. n'ai-je pas ? n'as-tu pas ? n'a-t-il pas ? n'avons-nous pas ? n'avez-vous pas ? n'ont-ils pas ? c - lFuture Absolute, j'aurai, I shall have tu auras, thou mºilt have il aura, he mvill have nous aurons,mve shall have vous aurez, you 7vill have ils auront, they mwill have Imperfect. j'avais, I had tu avais, thou hadst il avait, he had nous avions, n'e had vous aviez, you had ils avaient, they had CONDITIONAL. P)'esent o7 Futur'e. j'aurais, Tshould have tu aurais, thou mvouldst have il aurait, he mvould ha ve nOusaurions, mve should have vous auriez, you nvould have ils auraient,they nvould have Do. Interrogatively. aurais-je ? aurais-tu ? aurait-il ? aurions-nous ? auriez-vous ? auraient-ils? $ &! IMPERATIVE. Affirmatively. Wegatively. aie, have thou n'aie pas $ qu'il ait, let him have ayOns, let us have n'ayons pas ayez, havº ye n'ayez pas qu'ils aient, let them have qu'ils n'aient pas qu'il n'ait pas à SUBJUNCTIVE. Presemt. Imperfect. que j'aie s que j'eusse s que tu aies $ s que tu eusses $ $ qu'il ait $ $ qu'il eût $ -, que nous ayons § $ que nous eussions § s que vOus ayez $ $ que vous eussicz $ $ qu'ils aient s qu'ils eussent sº Remarks.—1. Que does not form an integral part of the subjunctive ; this mood may appear without que, as puissent-ils venir bientôt ! may they sOon come. The conjuraction is retained here to show the notion of dependence conveyed by the subjunctive. 2. When a, verb is conjugated interrogatively and negatively, as the present indicative of avoir in this lesson, it is im- portant to distinguish in the question whether it is a, bonâ fide one, so to speak, or whether it is not a circum- locution to state that the information asked for is already possessed by the inquirer. In the former case de (or d') alone is used ; in the latter du, de la, de l', des are required : le marchand m'a-t-il pas d'argent ? has the tradesman no money ? = I do not know whether he has, and I therefore ask. Le négociant devrait payer ses dettes, n'a-t-il pas de l'argent ? the merchant ought to pay his debts, has he not got money ?= I know he has meney, and I am reminding you Of the fact. EXERCISE X. (This may be passed over.) Fix the gender of the following substan- tives :- Ris, laughter; pleurs, tears ; respiration, breathing; soupir, sigh ; gémissement, groaning ; Sanglot, sob ; éternuement, sneezing ; hoquet, hiccup; état, state ; action, action ; mouvement, motion ; repos, rest; voir, voice; beauté,beauty; laideur, ugliness : santé, health ; grandeur, size ; embonpoint, plumpness ; maigreur, thinness ; air, air : port, carriage ; teint, complexion ; constitution, constitution ; son, sound; goût, taste ; saveur, flavour ; rat, rat ; chat, cat ; odeur, Odour ; toucher, tOuch ; souvenir, remem- brance ; 7'aison, reason ; entendement, under- standing ; sens, sense; oubli, forgetfulness ; vertu, virtue ; volonté, will; esprit, mind ; re- mords, remorse ; repentir, repentance ; sommail, sleep : foi, faith ; Soupçon, suspicion ; désespoir, despair ; plaisir, pleasure ; douleur, pain ; afflic- tion, affliction ; fierté, pride ; pitié, pity; merei, thanks; souhai6, wish ; seny, slave; parfum, perfume ; bain, bath ; serin, canary ; buisson, bush ; toison, fleece : torchon, duster; acier, steel ; arrosoir, Watering-can ; les atours, orna- ments ; pria, price ; four, oven ; foret, gimlet ; bruit, noise ; maison, house ; rapport, report ; dard, sting : saindoua , lard ; lard, bacon ; nez, nose ; 7ºz, rice , houa , holly ; aveu, confession ; pli, fold : alléluia, halleluia ; appui, support ; 874pport, prop ; étaºt, vice ; douceur, sweetness ; toit, Toof : fandango, a kind of dance ; cou. neck ; tilbury, a kind of carriage. 197 º 33 - SJ; \ N-- METAMORPHIC ROCKS (continued). WE have thus briefly sketched some of the changes through which argillaceous (clayey) important part. beds may pass, accord- ing to observations made on a large and Small scale, until they become a rock differing only from granite in the ar- rangement of their crys- talline constituents; and there is reason to believe that in some instances this line has been passed and the gneiss has been further metamorphosed into true granite. The passage quoted above, however, incidently illus- £rates another fact — that limestone full of fossils may be changed into a crys- talline rock in which no trace of these Temains. We know that this Thas been done on a large scale in the A pen nine S. The celebra- ted Carrara &marble is a beautiful crys- talline stone used in sculp- ture, free from organic re- mains, and at one time con- jectured to Have been an igneous rock. It is, however, a metamor- phosed sedi- nentary rock; and even its true age has been deter- mined by the discovery of a few shells not entirely obli- terated ; and it is now known that the Carrara s i- º | marble is a carboniferous limestone—that is, of the same age and originally of similar E-------> LIMESTONE MADE UP of coRALs (Favosites polymorp N ~§§ : § ; WEGETATION OF THE COAL MEASURES. | character to that which forms so important a feature of the Mendip range. We append in a tabular form (see centre of next page) a list of metamorphic rocks, ac- cording to Prof. Judd. This table, it will be observed, refers only to sedimentary rocks. Metamorphism and change are, however, going on in & igneous as well as stratified rocks, Metamorphism and in these also water plays an To the heat not confined to sedimentary g rocks. aSSO ciated with and generated by movements in the crust of the earth, such as we have seen recorded in the Curving and crumpling of the strata of the Men- dips, and the rising and sinking of the whole mass, must be added the frequent passage upwards of Steam and mineral Vapours, and waters charged with mineral lmatters. In all crystal- line rocks and mechani- cally formed sedimentary strata, except clay, these **) would find at least a partial pas- S a ge. N O Water OT va- pour could force its way through either hard or soft- ened clay, but it can make its way through argill aceous rocks when they have been changed into crystal- line masses. Besides heat- ed water from be low , we have the per- colation of Water from the surface. This, charged With carbonic acid taken up from the at- mosphere and the decaying vegetation in the soil, pos- sess e s the power of dis- solving to Some extent the mineral constituents of rocks, and § § §§s; of giving rise to fresh combinations. Changes are thus set up which often materially alter 198 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. the minute structure of rock masses. Indeed, it may almost be said to be the rule rather than the exception to meet with minerals in a condition more or less the result of change, in microscopic Sections of igneous rocks. Ser- pentine is now known to be frequently an altered basic rock. Dolomitic or magnesian limestone is a metamorphic condition of Ordi- nary limestone. DENUDATION. The formation of new strata (rockmaking), and the destruction of existing strata (denudation) are always going on. The wearing away, for instance, of the coast by the sea is a matter of common observation. Where the shore is composed of hard rocks the waves have comparatively little effect, though even the hardest stone is gradually broken up, and every successive tidedoessomethingtowards its destruction. On softer rocks the action of the waves is sometimes very marked, and suffi- ciently rapid to be easily measured. Denudation, years,” says Professor Phillips, “the rate at which the cliffs recede from Bridlington to Spurn, a distance of thirty-six miles, has been found by measurement to equal on an average two and a quarter yards annually, which upon thirty-six miles of coast would amount to about thirty acres a year. At this rate the coast, the mean height of which above the Sea is about forty feet, has lost one mile in breadth since the Norman Conquest, and morè than two miles since the occupation of York by the Romans.” The destruction which has thus taken place has obliterated towns and villages ... the former sites of which are now º nothing but sandbanks in the º German Ocean. Auburn, Hart- geS, burn and Hyde, have been destroyed in this way. Owthorne and Kilnsea do not occupy their original sites, the inhabitants having moved further inland to escape the Sea. Ravens- per, at one time a noted port, and memorable as the place where Bolingbroke (afterwards. Henry IV.) landed on his return from The east coast of banishment, has England, where the sea has made Con- siderable inroads within historic times, is perhaps as forcible an illus- tration as could 'be found. Sir Charles Lyell” has collected the facts with great care, and from his account we condense a few par- . ticulars. Almost the whole coast of Yorkshire, from the mouth of the Tees to that of the Hum- ber, is in a state of gradual dilapida- tion. That part of the cliffs which Con- sists of lias, Oolite and chalk decays METAMORPHIC ROCKS. SILICEOUS. ARGILLACEOTſS. CAL CAREOUS. ior Compact and jºy }Quartzite { Lydian stone. ſ subcrystallime tº liméstone, Porcelain jasper Dolomoite. Clay slate Slaty } Mica slate. rocks & © - Talc slate Chlorite slate. Mica, Schist, Chlorite schist Schistose \ Quartz Talc schist º rocks } scheifer Hornblende Calc Scheifer. schist Actinolite schist. Gramulite ... Red greiss - Gneissose ) Gneissen ... Gray gneiss Highly crys- rocks Graphic ... Garnet, stauro- talline and granite ite, tourmaine, ( Serpentinous y limestone. and other rocks. TABLE OF METAMORPHIc Rocks (see p. 197). shared the fate of less important places, and where it once stood nothing is now to be seen but the ex- tensive sands which are left dry at low water. On the coast of Norfolk the villages of Ship- den, Wimpwell and Eccles have disap- peared; the tower of the old church, of Eccles still re- mains upon the Sea. shore. The graduał destruction of Dun- wich—“Once the most considerable seaport” on the coast of Suffolk, is slowly. “The chalk cliffs are worn Waste on the into caves and needles in the pro- east ºast of jecting headland of Flamborough, ** where they are decomposed by the salt spray, and slowly crumble away. But the waste is most rapid between that promon- tory and Spurn Point, or the coast of Holderness, as it is called—a tract consisting of beds of clay, gravel, sand, and chalk Tubble. The irregular intermixture of the argillaceous (clayey) beds causes many springs to be thrown out, and this facilitates the undermining process ; the waves beating against them, and a strong current setting in chiefly from the north. The waste- ful action is very conspicuous at Dimlington Height, the loftiest point in Holderness, where the beacon stands on a cliff 146 feet above high water, the whole being composed of clay, with pebbles scattered through it.” “For many * “Principles of Geology,” vol. i., chap. 20. to be traced in its details through various records, beginning with the Doomsday Book, in which it is stated that two tracts of land which had been taxed in the time of Edward the Con- fessor had since been destroyed. Subsequent Tecords show at different times the loss of a monastery—several churches—the old port —four hundred houses—the church of St. Leonard's—the Town Hall—and the Gaol. The dates of the successive destruction of all these have been preserved. In the sixteenth century not one-quarter of the town was left standing. The inhabitants had gradually retreated inland and the sea followed them. In 1740 the church- yard of St. Nicholas and St. Thomas was laid. open ; the burial ground had become by the inroads of the Sea a part of the cliffs, and the coffins and skeletons were exposed to view. Dunwich as a city has been eaten up ; it is now only a little village with a few houses and a small population. AWCIENT HISTORY. Without going farther into details, or at- tempting to trace the ravages of the sea along the whole extent of the eastern and south- eastern coast of this country, the facts thus briefly given will be sufficient to show how destructive the sea may be under some circum- stances. Here and there, where the set of the current has been favourable, the land has gained upon the water; but this is not the ordinary work of the ocean,—which is more generally destructive, as it wears away the strata that form the shore-line against which its waves beat—and constructive only as it lays down and spreads out whatever material it receives, to be raised at Some future time above the sea level by the action of subterranean forces. The reader will however be likely to overestimate the destructive power of the sea if he fixes his attention too exclusively upon such illus- trations as those just supplied. The matter worn away from the thirty-six miles of the Yorkshire coast, mentioned above, has been calculated to amount to between fifty-one and fifty-two million cubic feet every year, and it is obvious that this must be immensely above the average waste of the coast lines of the world. But the erosive power of the ocean will be as surely underestimated unless the fact already referred to is borne in mind, that there is no rock sufficiently hard to withstand entirely its persistent action. The greatest possible power has probably been exerted when, by the sinking or rising of land, the surface has been brought immediately below the sea level. The whole extent of the country would then undergo a planing process; and it is believed that plains of marine denudation— that is, large tracts of land levelled by the action of the sea—are still recognizable in formations of ancient date. -- º l º, & § º -> bº º & g sº THE BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN EMPIRES, (continued.) ABOUT 1200 B.C., Assur-dan I. Succeeded his father Ninip, and in his reign of thirty years the prosperity of the country was partially restored. If he did not recover all the lost provinces, he was strong enough to invade Babylonia and revenge the attacks made on his father. His successor was his son, Mutag- gil-nuska, who reigned for nearly twenty years, but regarding whom no records are pre- served, except a brief reference to his rebuild- ing the palace at Nineveh. Another figure is added to the long line of vigorous Assyrian kings, in the person of Assur-Tisilim, son of the preceding monarch, who ascended the throne about 1150, and whose thirty years' reign was contemporaneous with that of Nabu-kudur-yutsur (Nebuchad- nezzar) of Babylonia, who must not be con- 199 * *. fused with the more famous monarch of the Same name, SO Conspicuous in the Biblical history six hundred years later. Under Assur- risilim the military spirit of the Assyrians revived. He repelled three inroads of the Babylonians, subdued and absorbed into his empire extensive districts on the north and north-east, rebuilt the palace at Nineveh, and splendidly restored the temple of Ishtar in that city. It has been justly said that the reign of Tugulti-pal-eser, or Tiglath-Pileser, “forms an era in Assyrian history.” (The Babylºnian monarch of the same Tiglath-Pileser. name mentioned in the Biblical Books of Chronicles and Kings, and by the prophet Isaiah, lived about four hundred years afterwards.) On his accession, about 1120 B.C., Tiglath-PileSer hastened to show that he was a worthy Successor of his warlike father. A Hittite tribe of northern Syria, the Muski, had occupied the provinces tributary to Assyria, in the region of the upper Euphrates, and five chiefs, with a force stated to be twenty thousand strong, held the country. During the reign of Assur-risilim their farther progress. had been stayed; but on his death they advanced and took possession of the province of Kum-. muha, lying near the sources of the Tigris and on both sides of the Euphrates. Tiglath at Once marched into the province at the head of a large army, defeated the Muski generals, taking a large number of captives, and then stormed the city of Seris, on the Tigris, where many of the people of the country had taken refuge, destroyed the city, and took the king, Kili-teru, with his wives and children, prisoners. He followed up this success by attacking the . city of Urranpines, and an independent district named Panari—the king of which, Sadi-teru, submitted to him, accepting the position of a tributary to Assyria, and delivering up his Sons as hostages. Other victories followed, and other districts were annexed, heavy tri- butes being exacted ; the Hittite tribes sub- mitted, terrified at his approach, giving up their war-chariots and other property. In another campaign he took twenty-five cities, districts occupied in the time when the power of Assyria had been weakened were restored, and large tributes were paid. On the south-east, as well as on the north, the borders of the empire were extended, and twenty-five images of the gods were carried away to be placed in the temples of Nineveh. Meanwhile, however, therivalempireof Baby- lonia had been growing in strength. Nabu- kudur-yutzur (Nebuchadnezzar), who had suffered so severe a defeat from the Assyrian king, Assur-risilim, had met with better fortune in his wars with the Elamite princes, who had re- peatedly attacked the south-western provinces of the empire, but who were effectually sub- dued. The next king of Babylonia, Maruduk- madin-ahi, or Merodach, determined to attack. Assyria, and with a considerable army invaded the southern provinces. Tiglath promptly met him, but with less than his accustomed ar with Babylonia, fortune. He was defeated and compelled to. 200 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. retreat, the Babylonians capturing the city and advancing his frontier to the northern of Hekali, and carrying away Sacred Assyrian branch of the great river, now known as the images. This was in about the eleventh year || Kara-su. On the opposite or northern side of of the reign of Tiglath, who displayed great the river, sixty petty kings, and the chiefs of energy and ability in recovering from the blow twenty-three tribes, with warriors and chariots, he had received. In the following year the endeavoured to oppose his progress. Tiglath war was renewed ; and in a battle fought near crossed the stream by means of a bridge hastily the banks of the Lower Zab, the Babylonians | but strongly constructed of felled trees, attacked sustained a great defeat; and Tiglath, following and scattered his opponents. Several of the up his successes, followed the course of the kings were made prisoners, chariots, horses, and *I** º º wn $º §§§ * : º t É. º §§ §§§ # i & º § # § § º § § # - § §§ 㺠§ |. § § * j § # |É # # : : | Hº º | º º f *** º EL KAS' R (TIE CASTLE) on THE SITE of ANCIENT BABYLon. Tigris southwards, Tavaging the country as he ſ cattle fell into the hands of the victorious As- proceeded, and capturing important towns; syrians, who took hostages from the conquered Babylon itself falling into his hands. tribes, and compelled them to pay a tribute of It is extremely difficult to describe the ex- twelve hundred horses and two thousand oxen. ploits of this vigorous monarch in strict chro- | A result of this great success was that other nological order, so imperfect are the inscribed | districts submitted, and made large presents records. But it would appear that shortly to the conqueror. before the Babylonian expedition, he attacked Tiglath's next expedition was against the the districts adjoining the Upper Euphrates, region of the western Euphrates, where he was subduing sixteen hitherto independent chiefs, I equally successful, the country was ravaged, JEWGLISH GRAMMAR. 201 and the river being crossed by means of inflated skins, six towns were captured. He afterwards led an army into the country north of his empire, beyond the mountain range of Tabel- Makluh, annexing regions which are named on the inscriptions Muzur and Qumani, which it is not easy to identify. In a place known as Hunasa, he built a fortified tower, in which he placed tablets of copper engraved with records of his campaigns. Other warlike and successful expeditions followed ; and there still remains a tablet, near the source of the Tigris, commemo- rating his victories in that direction. The most extended of his expeditions was into Syria, and across the Lebanon to the shores * † tº of the Mediterranean, on which i. he embarked, and an inscription * tells us that he killed a dolphin. {ike his great predecessor Nimrod, he was a *\A ºft|||}| ºft >iºlºguſ y §: #héNijº º ºil ºf \#ſºlº S) ( #;"| Włºń) §§3 G º © |}} º %kſ º P. SENNACHTERIB. “mighty hunter,” and probably was as proud of his achievements in the chase as of his mili- tary renown. It is recorded that he killed a hundred and twenty lions, besides other wild animals, hunted wild bulls on the mountains of Lebanon; and at ASSur he had large gardens, where strange and Savage animals were kept ; among them, perhaps, the crocodile sent to him as a compliment by the king of Egypt. He restored the temple of Assur, adding two enormous towers, one of which still exists; and in it was found, On an engraved cylinder, the narrative of his achieve- ments. He cleared out and repaired the great canal, which had been cut to supply the city with water, but had become useless through accumulations and decay; and besides other important works, he completed the splendid palace at Nineveh which his father had begun. This powerful monarch, who had made Assyria the foremost empire of the world, died in 1,100 B.C. His son, inheriting his father's ambition, if not his ability, took the title of Assur-bel-kala, “lord of all.” Little is known of his reign, beyond that he was engaged in warfare with the Babylonians. He was followed by his brother, Samsi-vul; but after his death there is a long blank in the records. Mr. George Smith says, in his “Assyria from the Earliest Times,”—“For a period of a hundred and fifty years, the inscriptions afford us only one ray of light: they record that a disaster overtook the Assyrian arms. The king of Aram (Syria) defeated the Assyrians in the reign of Assur-rabu-amor; Pethon and Mutkinu fell, and with them they lost the whole region of the Euphrates and Nairi.” Here, in this historical silence, we may fitly pause. Henceforth the history of Assyria and Babylon will be partly associated with that of a nation, the records of which are of the pro- foundest interest. About twenty-five years after the death of Tiglath, David was born at Bethlehem; and before Assyria again emerged into prominence, Solomon had lived and died, and the rival kingdoms of Judah and Israel had been established. 45. Latin of Norman period. 46. Scotch dialect. 47. Full-grown English. 48. Influences after fourteenth century. English under the Tudors. Italian and Spanish elements. . Miscellaneous elements. . Historic answer to § 32. . Groundwork of language, English. i § 45. The closer communication with the Roman Church brought about by the Conquest also caused the direct introduction of a number of Latin words, and stimulated the cultivation of Latin in England. Norman-French itself was fundamentally a Latin tongue, grown out of the language which was brought into Gaul by the Romans in earlier times, and altered by wear and tear and absorption of other elements, just like our own. The Northmen, who settled in Normandy a century and a half before the Conquest, learned the French they found there, adding to it a few of their Scandinavian words; it already included a few Keltic words left behind by the ancient Gauls, and many Teu- tonic words, landmarks of the Frankish tribes who overran the country in the fifth century. But though the tongue brought in by the Normans was in this way a mixed one, the bulk of it was developed from the Latin, and thus the words adopted at this time are either indirectly from Latin, modified by their passage 202 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, through the French, or direct from the con- temporary Latin in use. § 46. A word must be devoted here to the Scotch dialect. As has been seen, the Angles originally peopled the lowlands of Scotland as far as the Firth of Forth, and built Edinburgh (=Edwin’s borh) in 620; their kingdom of Deornicia afterwards formed part of the larger kingdom of Northumbria—which however was overrun by the Danes in 867, and a division again made, in which the English were re- stricted to the part north of the Tyne. In 966 a further division of Northumbria was made, and King Edgar granted Lothian to the king of Scots. Thus it happens that “the people there are really English, and still Speak a tongue which has changed less from the Old English than the tongue of any other part of England” (Freeman). About the time of the Conquest their Anglo-Saxon tongue was rein- forced by many English refugees, who fled with Edgar Atheling from William's power, as well as by those who would naturally follow in the train of the English princess, Edgar's sister, whom King Malcolm had married. The French, however, soon Teached the northern kingdom ; “in the twelfth and thirteenth cen- turies French was likewise in Scotland the language of the court; the speech of the people, on the contrary, maintained itself freer from contact with it. The Scotch dialect, which by its poets, as Barbour, Dunbar, Lindsay, and others, is certainly mot wrongly called the English language, generally avoided French elements far more than did the English dia- lect.” (Maetzner, English Gramma”, 1874, vol. i., p. 5.) This tendency is one among the causes that have operated to keep the Scotch dialect divergent from the English. § 47. From the epoch when French was falling into disuse and English was regaining its sway, we date the appearance of the full- grown language. This language was not, in- deed, that of the present day, nor even had it quite arrived at the polish which Chaucer (died 1400) gave ; but out of the mingling of the Bnglish and Scandinavian with the Romance elements there came forth a tongue in which the strong and numerous inflexions of the Teutons had been worn down and softened by the usage and influence of the incomers; a tongue in which, word having acted upon word, the vocabulary was enlarged as well as modified and made freer by the close amalgamation ; a tongue which was ready to accept all improvements in its progress towards maturity. From this time onwards no violent changes affected the language, but it continued growing and altering ; “its further and more or less constant development is Inowhere abruptly broken, but in long spaces of time wide differences become manifest,” So that though in reality we cannot find at any given period any sharp line of separation, it has been found convenient to mark Off several periods or stages of advancement, which will be noted hereafter. § 48. The political relations of England, royal marriages, the commercial enterprises of her people, foreign wars, the development of Science, and the increase of learning, have all been factors in our language. The Renaissance Or Revival of learning, after the taking of Con- stantinople (1453) by the Turks (which sent the learned Greek and Latin scholars of the Western Empire wandering over Europe), gave an impetus to classical studies which brought a fresh flow of Greek and Latin words into the language, from the time of Henry VII. to that of Charles II. (1485 to 1680); Greek had been but little known here before this time. The invention of printing in the fifteenth century again had its influence, as a means of fixing the Spelling, and in some measure the punctuation ; by multiplying copies it gave the force of habit to the spellings adopted by the printer; people became accustomed to what they saw, whether right or wrong, and clung to it. Yet Ortho- graphy was by no means settled at once,—it was the work of several centuries; and even at the present day all know how uncertain the custom is in some particulars. The revised translation of the Bible, made under James I. in 1611, which has been called “the purest and most beautiful example" of our language, has had, from the nature of its subject, a powerful effect in preserving the knowledge and the familiar use of a style of pure English in the life of the people of which it forms so intimate a part. § 49. Especially during the reigns of Eliza- beth, James, and Charles I., was English cul- tivated and a good prose style aimed at ; several authors wrote with the endeavour to preserve the native vermacular and to stem the current of foreign words that was pouring in. Roger Ascham, the tutor of Queen Elizabeth, recom- memds (1545) him who would write well “to speak as the common people do, to think as wise men do”; and W. Puttenham (1589), per- ceiving how the purity of the language was in danger of becoming overlaid with what he calls “ink-horn terms . . . and many dark words, not usual nor well-sounding, though they be .daily spoken in court,” counsels writers to eschew the use of words and expressions such as are found “in the marches and frontiers, or in port towns where strangers haunt for traffic sake, or yet in universities, where scholars use much peevish affectation of words out of the primitive languages.” No doubt many words, were used in affectation of learning, but excres- cences like these took no root and soon dropped out; where a word had fitness and caught the general ear it would be retained. The intro- duction of new words by the means of literary art is a very different thing from the adoption of fresh terms into the speech of a people brought about by the necessities of communi- cation. Such words as detun-pated, fastide, lepid, lapidifical, inquinate, 67'uding, terreous, sanguinolency, were not long felt to be wanted ;, while on the other hand many good old En- glish words have been crowded out by the facile adaptation of Romance terms closely equivalent. § 50. During the reigns of our greatest Tudor kings Spanish and Italian were widely known. in England. Italian literature had been a favourite study as long before as the days of ASTROWOMY. 203 Chaucer, but in the reigns of Henry VIII., Mary, and Elizabeth, the language was familiar at court, Italian stories and novels were popular, men of letters studied Italian poetry and writers, and many Italian words crept into the English usage. Archbp. Trench tells us of Spanish, that “the wars in the Low Countries, the proba- bilities at one period of a match with Spain, the facts that Spanish was almost as serviceable at Brussels, at Milan, at Naples, and for a time at Vienna, not to speak of Lima and Mexico, as at Madrid itself, and scarcely less indispen- Sable; the many points of contact, friendly and hostile, of England with Spain for well nigh a Century, all this had conduced to an extended knowledge of Spanish in England. It was popular at Court ; Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth were both excellent Spanish scholars.” This use of Spanish prevailed in England from about 1550 to 1650; we have never known it so well before or since, and like Italian, it left its legacies behind. § 51. Our language has at different times drawn a variety of words from many other Sources. The high state of culture in Arabia and the Arabic provinces in Spain in the middle ages exercised much influence upon the voca- bulary of the science and commerce of those times; many of their words came to us through Some of the Romance tongues which firstly adopted them. Travels in the East brought us Persian, Malay, Turkish, and other words, with the things they designated. Our settle- ments in India, China, and North America, from time to time, have contributed many words unknown to the older English. Lastly, frequent intercourse with our neighbours across the Channel has made us familiar in more recent times with numerous words which we find convenient to fit our sense from modern French, and with a few from the Dutch and German, chiefly nautical and mining terms. § 52. The question advanced in § 32, “Is not English a Romance language 7” has now re- ceived the first answer ; it has been shown that English was brought over from the Ger- manic shores in the fifth century, that it dis- placed the original British tongue; that a branch of its Scandinavian kindred was in- corporated with it between the eighth and the eleventh centuries; and that on to this mas grafted, between the eleventh and thefourteenth centuries, the Norman-French, which, while it greatly modified the inflexions and the voca- bulary, left the fundamentals of English un- touched. The language, therefore, is plainly of Teutonic kindred by descent. § 53. Secondly. When we examine what part these elements play in the economy of the tongue, the testimony of history is con- firmed. (a). The groundwork of the speech is old English, the grammar is neither borrowed nor mixed, what inflexions we have remaining, and the construction of our sentences, being of English Origin. Moreover, every foreign word that has been adopted has been obliged to shape itself according to the genius of English grammar. The pronouns, numerals, preposi- tions, a large class of verbs, and those words used to express natural objects and simple wants, are English. “You can make many sentences together about common things which shall not have one French or Latin Word in them ; but you cannot make the shortest English sentence out of French or Latin words only, without using Teutonic words.” (Free- man.) “It is possible to carry on conversation and write numerous sentences, without employ- ing any borrowed terms ; but if we endeavour to speak or write without making use of the native element (grammar or vocabulary), we shall find that such a thing is impossible. In our talk, in the works of our greatest writers, the English element greatly preponderates.” (Dr. Morris.) ºº:: ºr rºº §3 SNººSºº *- A º º- 5-º §ºgºś º º-º tº S& THE first great discovery made by 'Galileo with the telescope he had constructed was not however, the phases of Venus. It was in con- nection with Jupiter. On January 7, 1610, Galileo observed Jupiter with his largest tele- scope ; he noticed it presented a round disc of considerable size—nearly as large, in fact, as the moon when seen by the naked eye. Close to Jupiter he noticed three bright. stars, all arranged in a straight” sº ºf he line, and two on the left side of ***** 2 Jupiter. the planet and one on the other. Galileo was struck by their bright appearance and peculiar position with respect to the planet. The next day he again looked at Jupiter, and to his astonishment the three stars were still there, but very differently arranged, for they were all three on the same side (the right) of the planet, and much closer together. This struck him as most remarkable, and he anxiously awaited the next night to still further observe these remarkable stars. The night, however, Was cloudy, and he had impatiently to wait until the night following. Quickly turning his telescope On Jupiter, to his amazement there were only two stars, and they were on the opposite (or left) side of the planet to what the three had been on the 8th, but just in the position of the two he had seen on the 7th. It seemed to him impossible that any motion of the planet could produce such extraordinary changes, and he began to suspect that the stars themselves were moving. On the IIth there were still only two stars, and both on the left, but One seemed bigger than the other ; the third seemed to have Vanished. On the 12th he again turned the telescope on Jupiter: there were the two stars, but now one was on each side of the planet ; but whilst still looking at them, he suddenly saw a faint point of light quite close to the east side of the planet. Struck with astonishment, Galileo looked again and again. No, he was not deceived ; it gra- dually became brighter and brighter, and moved farther and farther from the planet, and to his joy it was the missing third star, Galileo 204 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. watched it anxiously, and saw it move farther and farther still from the planet. He felt that there could no longer be any doubt as to the nature of these stars : evidently they moved round the planet,_they must be satellites. No longer was the earth unique : Jupiter had moons ! On the 13th he saw four stars, one on the left and three on the right. Had Jupiter more than three moons' Subsequent observation showed him that Jupiter had four moons, but no more. He named them the Medicean stars, after the famous rulers of Florence, and announced his discovery to the World. The importance of the discovery was at Once appreciated by philosophers, who saw in Ju- piter a miniature solar system. AS- tronomers Were able to retort On those who ob- jected to the theory of the solar system as dis- covered by Coper- nicus and Kepler, “You said, ‘If your theory of Co- pernicus be true, as the earth has a moon, lo, Jupiter should have four !’ Behold, Jupiter has four Astronomers immediately set to work to de- termine the distances of these satellites, and the time they took to revolve round Jupiter. They found that the nearest satellite, I., was distant from the centre of Jupiter by 6 times the radius of that planet, and took 1 d. 18 h. 28 m. to revolve round it ; that satellite II. was distant 93 times the radius of Jupiter, and took 3 d. 13h. 13 m. to revolve round it ; that Satellite III. was distant 15% times the radius of Jupiter, and took 7 d. 3 h. 43 m. to revolve round it ; and that the farthest satellite, IV., was dis- tant 27 times the ra- dius of Jupiter, and took 16 d. 16 h. 32 m. to revolve round the planet. As the Satellites moved round Jupiter, it WaS SOOn Seen by astronomers that at times they passed behind the planet, and at times they must pass in front ; in either case they were then invisible. At times, however, they disappeared before coming up to the planet, and reappeared also at some distance from the planet. It was soon seen that this arose from Jupiter Casting a shadow. In fig. 26 we have a plan of the Jovian system, with Jupiter in the centre and the Ecli f th orbits of its four satellites round "...i. ° it. If the earth be in the same ' direction as the sun the satellites seem to disappear, and reappear always at the * 5 ! FIG 24.—KEPLER’s SEcoRD LAW ILLUSTRATED (see p. 162). FIG. 25.—PHASEs of VENUS (see p. 163). edge of the planet; but this is no longer the case if the earth be a little on one side of the Sun, as it almost always is—say in the direction J E, as it is twice a year. We see that the first Satellite disappears in the shadow at 1” before it reaches the edge of the planet, but reappears from behind the edge of the planet at 1. ‘The Same is true of the II. and III. Satellites. The IV. Satellite disappears in the shadow at 4” and reappears at 4" on the same side of the planet, then disappears at the edge of the planet at 4, and reappears at the opposite edge at 4. When a satellite is lost in the shadow of the planet it is said to be eclipsed; when it disappears behind the edge of the planet it is Said to undergo 0 g c u ! t at i on ; whilst when the Satellite passes in front of theplanet there is said to be a Č7'ansit. . . Astronomers Soon found that the Satellites and planet appeared to be equally bright, so that when the satellite passed in front of Jupiter, and ought to be seen moving across the disc of the planet, it would not be visible, for it would appear just as bright as the rest of the surface of the planet, and could not be distinguished from it. But they also saw that the moons would cast a shadow as well as the planet, and that wherever the shadow of the satellite fell on the planet, it would appear as a black spot. These black spots or shadows ought to be visible in transit. Galileo and his contemporaries looked atten- tively to see these shadows, but entirely without success, for sº their telescopes were º not sufficiently power- *" ful. Gradually more perfect telescopes were made, and made On a slightly different prin- ciple. Galileo's teles- cope, as already stated, consisted of a large convex lens at one end and called an object-glass, whilst at the other end was a small concave lens called an eye- piece, because it is put next to the eye. It is not easy to make these telescopes very power- ful, though they may be made to magnify fifty times. i The illustrious Kepler suggested a modifica- tion of this design, which was to use a small powerful convex lens as an eye- { piece instead of a concave lens. j The first to use a telescope of this ties. kind was the Jesuit Scheiner, who { in 1630 constructed the first Keplerian tele- | scope. This was found to be a decided improve- ASTRONOMY. sm-- ment and by the middle of the century they superseded the Galilean telescope. Huygens, a distinguished Dutch astronomer, still further improved this design, by using an eyepiece made of two convex lenses instead of one. Huygens acquired by long practice great skill in grinding and polishing lenses for telescopes, and for many years was the great authority on. their construction. His own favourite telescopes were one of 3 inches aperture and 12 feet focus, magnifying 48 times, and the other of 3% inches aperture, 23 feet focus, and magnifying 132 * º | 3 mi, 205 object-glasses were placed therefore on a stand at the top of a very lofty pole, and moved about by cords, whilst the eyepieces were mounted on Smaller movable stands placed on the ground. These telescopes were very inconvenient, and required much experience to use them. Later on, in the early part of the eighteenth century, Campani, of Rome, advanced still further in the art of constructing telescopes; and telescopes of 30 to 50 feet in length were made, which magnified 150 to 200 times, and had aperture of 3 to 4 inches. The telescopes in general us | | | | If si ill FIG. 26.--THE JOVIAN SYSTEM. times . To make these telescopes perform well, it Was found to be necessary to give the object- glass a focus of 3 to 6 inches for each time the telescope was to magnify. A telescope which Was to magnify 60 to 80 times had to have a length of 20 to 30 feet, and an object glass of from 2% to 3 inches in diameter. Later on, in about 1670–1700, when they wanted to use a magnifying power of 150 to 250, they were obliged to use object-glasses of 4 to 6 inches diameter, and with a focus of 60, 90, or 120 feet, or even at times 200 to 300 feet. These giants could not be mounted in tubes, The were from 12 to 25 feet in length, magnified 80 to 120 times, and had object-glasses with apertures of 2 to 3 inches. It is interesting, in concluding this article, to contrast these telescopes with the improved instruments of the present day. A telescope of gigantic size, eighty-five feet in length, but unfortunately very imperfect, was completed at Wandsworth, by the Rev. John Craig, in 1852. The largest telescope yet made is one which was set up in 1870, at Gateshead, by Cookes of York. It has an object-glass twenty-five inches aperture. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. C §ºf-S$ º º º - ~ º '. 㺠§§§º º: £º §|THE FRIENDLY COUNSELLOR, ſº Ağaºğ)=======Făsă:\º & rºse Xºrºzº&zºº-ºº-ºº: CHARACTER, THERE are few things on which so many changes may be rung as the thing called “character.” There is not only infinite variety of character among men and women in general, but frequently no little variety of character in the same individual. Some men are of such few, simple, and rigid lines of mental and Imoral structmre, that one can read them like the alphabet, and always calculate with something like certainty what they will say or do, or even feel, in any given circumstances; while others are of such various moods, are capable of such diversified combinations—naturally, i.e. with- out suppressed subtility or artifice—of emotion, motive, and view of things, and “play so many parts,” that it is difficult to discover what their characteris, of what cords it may be twisted, or what shapes it may assume. Like Garrick, they are equally great in tragedy and comedy; and as many essays might be written on them as on the idiosyncrasy of Shakspeare's Hamlet, Or the peculiarities of the British constitution. We have first to get at the meaning of the word; and the meanings of “charactor’’ are as numerous as those of any word in the diction- ary. The TCOt OT primary sense is that of a mark, letter, or figure cut and engraved, or written with a pen or style ; and if we were to stop here, we might imagine that character is something impressed upon us from without. But though Some philosophers have held that “man is the creature of circumstances”—a doctrine rather growing than declining under the inductions of recent science—and though it may be universally admitted, indeed, that external circumstances have a great influence upon character, yet this would not express what is generally meant by “character,” as applied to individuals, classes of people, or to nations. A character which yields, or bends easily, or is extremely plastic under the power of circum- stances, is said to be a m'eak character; while power to resist the pressure of circumstances, to triumph over it, and to give a mould of its Own to circumstances, is the mark of a strong Character, whether the strength may be in force of will or art of conduct. Character must reside in something else, therefore, than in mere impressionability; and here the Toot or primary sense of the word returns in some measure to the verity, for it will be observed that the figure or letter cut or engraved, when once made, does not yield to wind or rain, or other ordinary current of circumstance—is not intended to yield, but, on the contrary, to be lasting, and to repoºsent some- thing. A letter forms part of a word ; a figure may suggest an eminent person, or a train of ideas ; a symbol may embody the history of a nation, or a whole system of religion. Hence the name given to the original marks, letters, OT characters came, by an easy extension of º language, to be applied to something that was from the beginning in or under them. And so wermay not befar wrong in saying that character, while affected by circumstances, and requiring external circumstances to develop it, So far from being anything impressed upon us from without, is, according both to the etymological meaning and the common understanding, something impressed upon those without us by rhore or less permanent lineaments of conduct proceeding from certain qualities within our- selves." But now, having got the exact point of view in which character is to be seen and estimated, we are still far from being out of the wood, and consequently must not halloo too much. We have to observe certain “lineaments of con- duct,” or in other, though scarce briefer words, “actions and courses of action,” the only thing to be observed with the eye; and these have to be referred to certain qualities of mind and feeling, and all the workings of purpose and motive in the heart of the doer, on the one hand, while the character thus seen in the light of the outer and inner sight is transferred, on the other hand, to the impression made by it. On the observer, which will not, of course, be the same in each case, but will vary with the idiocrasies of the various observers, OT classes Of observers. How is all this to be brought together into a true and consistent effect? It is obvious, in the first place, that the character, whatever it is, must be strong—what one calls at least decided—to produce any general impression within the circle of its display. There will al- ways be dissenters, misbelievers, doubters, and the impression must be so consentaneous, SO much in the majority, as to override those, and induce a general admission. A weak and vacil- lating character, which vanishes or changes at the touch of circumstance, is in reality defect of character, or no character at all. Yet a certain pliability of conduct to circumstances is by no means to be deprecated as a bad thing. On the contrary, it is often of the essence of character. At all events, character is not exactly impaired because the external conduct has been modified by or accommodated to the course of circumstances, the course of argument in debate or the course of public fashion or opinion. One may stoop to conquer. One may bend to the storm without wallowing under it. Nay, one often must do this. But the character must always shine out, must be seen reverting to its original elements through all changes, must always vindicate itself, and triumph in its own strength, whether leading to the goal of success or the doom of failure. If charactor must thus have strength in it in Order to be character, it becomes a formidable thing either to study or appreciate rightly; for the character may not only be either good or bad, but it may lie so broadly across the confines of the two as to render it difficult to determine whether the good or the evil predominates. In the case of undeniably great men—great not only in themselves, but in the greatness of their empire over men—the real worth of their character is often a hard problem. People will, PHYSICAL, GEOGRAPHY. 207 go on disputing about the relative worth of a Pitt and a Fox, and the utility or inutility of their respective public labours for generations, without being able to settle it. If a conqueror like Buonaparte, who literally wades through blood, is more easily disposed of, after a generation or two, as a Scourge both to his own country and to mankind, what shall We Say when the question is raised whether a great author, who did nothing all his life but write books, shedding only ink profusely, has had a beneficial or a pernicious influence on the world ! Of men whose career has been One of crime only, it is often said that there was much good stuff in them, and what a pity it was not under better guidance Force of character, even when allied with a life of violence and offence, exercises a strange fasci- nation over us. But force of character is good for nothing but in the spirit by which it was actuated, and the good ends to which it was directed, and which it may in some measure have promoted or accomplished. So far we have been speaking of character in its length and breadth–Of the whole man, as it were. But in actual experience character is found to split itself up into mere traits. It is not the whole character we think of, but only what is chiefly distinctive in the character of a person, and not only of a person, but peculiar to an office, a class, or an occupation. In the portraiture of character, whether on the stage, or in novels, or in a picture, it is often seen what a treat is afforded to the mind out of very little ; but that little well selected, one part delicately shading into another, and all well set off. The materials may be few and simple, but they are all necessary, and must all be combined in their due co-relations and proportion. These are not strong characters, but they are strong of their kind. There is the character which provokes our laughter, and the character which commands our reverence: the character which rouses our anger, and the character which moves our pity: the character which fills us with admiration, and the character which incurs our contempt. There is the cha- racter which, without speaking a word or doing a single act, and simply looks, interests us as much as any. And there is the character which fails, and the character which succeeds ; and so on. The last two, by the way, which may be, drawn on a much broader canvas than the Others, present a rather curious case. For the issue will almost wholly depend on the character of the people among whom they Operate. Reverse the character of the world or community in which they move, and the Subjects of the piece may almost exchange places. The character which succeeds in the One Case will be the one that fails in the other ; and the character which fails will be the one that succeeds. I am not so sure that We have been living in an age when the cha- racter that succeeds would be a highly moral, estimable, well-doing, and beneficent person, as to feel that there may not be some danger in depicting the qualities necessary to such a character. The “gospel of success” has been preached so loudly, that success in its most material and worldly form is now our all-too- prevailing motive, and we have become more than at any former period a nation of much worse character than would be described by Napoleon's derisive term of “shopkeepers.” But without risk of encouraging the bad or disappointing the reasonable hopes of the good, it may surely be added that truthfulness, integrity, diligence, perSeverance in a firmly honest course, even at the hazard of non- success, willingness to work for one's bread in the love of Work, and to communicate out of one’s abundance in the spirit of true steward- ship and true kindness, are qualities which will command confidence, Tespect, and honour in any community OT country, however tem- porarily fallen from a high estate. gºº::sº RSº-3$2S: º, t + * -ºs. §::$ arºs \NS$º-3"[y_º. 㺠Nºé, wº-ºº: - \, - THE OCEAN (continued). IT would appear to be an obvious conclusion that the proportion of Saline ingredients of the Sea must be rapidly increasing. The action of springs in disinte- grating the earth is incessant. Millions of tons are annually poured into the Sea, and the process of evaporation is per- petually restoring to the land the fresh water So carried away. That the saline materials are increasing is a fact, but at a very slow, almost imperceptible, rate; and it is interesting to ascertain how the balance is so nearly pre- served. The sea is a great chemical laboratory, in which the alkalies (chloride of Sodium among them) decompose the lime salts, genera ting carbonate of lime, which is taken up by growing plants and animals, especially those engaged in building up the coral formations we have described, and shell-fishes; Seaweeds absorb potash salts and phosphates ; the phosphate of lime passes intc the bones of fishes; and iodine is concentrated not only in seaweeds but in sponges, which also take up silicates: thus, as one able writer remarks, “the various elements pass from the water" into animal and vegetable tissues, by the decay of which on land, or in the ooze at the bottom of the Sea, they become fixed in insoluble forms, being thus removed from the Oceanic circulation and Testored to the solid earth.” It is very probable, indeed almost certain, that both mineral and fresh springs are active at the bottom of the sea. The - fresh-watersprings exhibit agreat Submarine force, and in some places continue *P* for a considerable time unmingled with the Ocean water, so that supplies of fresh water have been obtained from them for use in ships. . Thus, in the great laboratory of nature is constant action and counter-action. The salts and other minerals of the land masses are Increase of Saltness. Chemical action. 208 THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTR'UOTOR. combined and changed, passing through innu- merable vegetable and animal organisms; and the bubbling springs and rapid rivers are per- petually contributing materials for the building of the gigantic coral reefs and islands of the Southern Seas. The result of long-continued experiments on this subject does not warrant us in stating more than a few general conclusions. Teºpºre of The temperature diminishes from ** the equator to the poles, and that of the northern hemisphere is generally higher than that of the Southern. It is generally lower at midday and higher at midnight than 70° N, and S., the line of unvarying tempera- ture descends to 4,200 feet, a warmth retained in the deepest papis which have been reached. We may therefore conclude that the normal heat of the Sea in all parts, when beyond the range of action of the Sun's Tays, is about 39° Fahrenheit, or 7 degrees above freezing; and it has been ascertained that seasonal vicissi- tudes of temperature produce no effect at the depth of 300 feet. The oceanic warmth equator, as it is termed, Or the line of the greatest warmth at the sur- face, does not coincide with the geographical equator, but Tuns for the most part on the north. THE SHAKSPEARE CLIFF, DOVER. that of the atmosphere at the same places. The average temperature at a considerable distance from land is greater than that of the atmosphere with which it is in contact ; and where the water is shallow, as over a Sandbank, it is colder than in deeper places. There is a line of unvarying temperature, about 39° Fahrenheit, marking the limit of the influence of the sun's heat. In equatorial regions the line is at the depth of more than 7,000 feet. About lat. 56° 26' N., and the same parallel S., it rises to the surface, the water having the same temperature at all depths. Farther north and South, to about of it, except in the western Pacific, where it is to the South of the line. The absolute greatest heat of surface water, 88° Fahrenheit, is in the Gulf of Mexico, lat. 28° N. The colour of the ocean varies considerably in different parts—a fact which has given Tise to the popular names, White, Yellow, Éeå, and Black, applied Colon ºf” to seas which exhibit marked S68, departures from the general standard. Some persons who have never seen the Sea, and derive their chief notions of it from popular * poetry, might be puzzled to decide which of the melodious phrases, “deep green Sea," or CHEMISTRY. the “dark blue sea,” was the more authentic. Byron, who certainly had seen the sea, but more of the Mediterranean than of any other part, wrote, “Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll”; but Shakespeare makes Macbeth say that his bloodstained hand would “The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.” And “Sea-green’’ is a common expression. Indeed, the colour of the Sea might be made as much the subject of theoretical discussion as the colour of the chameleon, in Merrick's well- known poem. The propagation of light through water is not carried far below the surface, the influence at the depth of 300 feet being scarcely equal to the glimmer of twilight, and at about twice that depth there is perpetual darkness. Light, on entering the Cause of colour, water, is refracted, and more or less resolved into its primary colours. Red, orange and yellow rays do not penetrate to so great a depth as blue and violet, and conse- quently the colour of the reflected light will depend to a considerable extent on the depthat which the reflection takes place. But the sea. is also a vast Imirror, and gleams of sunshine, the tints of the atmo- sphere and of pass- ing clouds are re- flected. It also contains myriads of animalculae, and substances inter- mediate between the animal and vegetable king- doms; and changes of colour are pro- duced by the na- ture of earthy sub- stancesinfused. In - the Gulf of Guinea, the sea appears to be white ; and around the Maldive Islands, in the Indian Ocean, black; beautiful purple, red and rose- coloured waters are seen in the Mediterranean; off the coast of California is the Vermilion Sea, which fitly expresses the prevailing colour; and in some parts of the Arctic Ocean green and blue are seen in juxtaposition. The colour of the Red Sea has been attributed by Some observers to the presence of , animalculae (Trichodesmium erythraeum), and by others to a substance (a species of the oscillaria) of the intermediate character previously mentioned ; and it is probable that the two together are the cause of the prevailing hue. In the Antarctic regions Sir James Ross remarked changes of colour in the sea from light blue to a dirty brown, caused by animalculae. The beautiful appearance described as “phos: phorescence of the sea”—Scintillations and long lines of apparently electrical light—is due to the presence of innumerable animalculae, Some VOL. I. DECOMPOSITION OF WATER BY ELECTRICITY. to 209 .e. of which are so small as only to be discerned by the aid of the microscope; but others, such as jelly-fish, are of considerable size. In some of the tropical seas, a little creature, the Pyrosoma. Atlantica, resembling a minute cylinder of glowing phosphorus, Sometimes appears in such numbers that the ocean seems “like an enormous layer of molten lava or shining phos- phorus”; and the light-giving property is alsº possessed in a remarkable degree by another minute animal of the Rhizopoda class, possess- ing a power of locomotion by means oftentacular filaments—found in myriads in the British Channel and North Sea. It has been observed that the beautiful emission of phosphorescent light is to some degree dependent on atmo- spheric conditions, but is not apparently affected by heat or cold, being observed both in the tropics and the Arctic regions. The clearness of the sea obviously depends upon its tranquillity and freedom from floating or infused matters. In quiet bays and inlets, such as are some of the Nor- wegian fiords, very small shells and other objects can be clearly dis- cerned at a depth of 150 ft. ; and on the English south A coast the bay of * Weymouth is re- markable for a similar clearness. It should be noted that an optical re- sult, similar to that afforded by the arrangement of the lenses of a tele- scope, is produced by the sea—the objects being made appear very much nearer the surface than they really are, and made visible, although, in the absence of water, they would, at that distance, be invisible to the unassisted eye. Phosphorescence of the sea, sº glū. & | | | . | jº WATER. THIS universally diffused substance, that plays so important a part in the vast economy Of naturé, presents itself to our senses under an infinité variety of aspects-grand, beautiful, and even awe-inspiring. The glacier, the ice- berg, or the avalanche, not less than the roaring torrent or the ocean surge, fill us with a Sense 14 210 THE UAVIVERSAL LAWS//; UCI'O B. i of irresistible force and wild sublimity, while the mountain lake and the meandering stream awaken Softer emotions; nor must we forget the thousand forms of beauty it assumes in the masses of Snowy cumulus that hang in the deep plue of the summer sky, or in the wreaths of fretted gold that deck the couch of thesettingsun. So manifold are its uses, so important its functions, that their history would alone suffice to fill a volume. Geology reveals to us the part it has played, as a mechanical agent, in build- ing up the * º form so large a portion & of the outer covering of our •º. planet; but the hand of Nature e is not idle; the great work of creation has not ceased, and this restless, mobile agent is still perpetually engaged in altering and re-fashioning the face of the globe. It enters largely into the bodies of all animals and plants, and no form of organic life that We have any cognizance of can exist without it. Water absolutely pure can scarcely be said to exist. The best of all known solvents, it is always found combined with other substances, and the water of every river, spring or well will be found to hold a number of different substances in Water in a state of nature, & #== =#|jišº sº É $ ####º sº | is, indeed, chemically speaking, an oxide of hydrogen. It had always been Tegarded and spoken of as an element until the discovery of its dual nature was made by Cavendish, less than one hundred years ago. Water may be resolved into its constituent elements by means of a current of voltaic electricity; the apparatus employed for this purpose is similar to the One represented in the figure on the preceding page, and consists of a glass vessel containing water slightly acidulated with sulphuric acid to faci- litate the passage of electricity. The bottom of the vessel is pierced to admit two wires communicating with the two poles of a gal- vanic battery, and terminating in Small plates of platinum, over which two test tubes filled with water are inverted. When the apparatus is in Operation, bubbles of gas will be seen to rise through the water and collect at the top of the column in either tube. In every case, One tube will be found to contain twice the quantity of the other, showing e that the elements of water must Volumetrie be compounded in the volume of 2 * to 1, or that there must be twice g as much of One element as of the other, Ilecomposition of water, In º * - iº ; §º ==#E tº-mº-º-º-º-º DISTILLATION OF WATER, solution. Such water cannot be purified by passing it through an ordinary filter. This can be effected by distillation only, and even then the water will not be found entirely free from all admixture with foreign substances. We need not, however, in all cases, necessarily Tegard the fact of drinking-water holding certain substances in solution as tending to impair its value as a potable liquid. , All water in a natural state holds more or less air in solution; were this not the case, neither fish nor any living organism, except perhaps those of the lowest class, could live in it. Water from which the air has been expelled, by boiling, drinks very flat and insipid, and the water of many springs owes much of its sparkle and relish to the presence of a certain quantity of carbonic acid. Should water, however, be suspected of holding organic impurities in solution, it will be safest to boil it in addition to filtering. Water, unlike air, is not a mere mechanical mixture, but a chemical compound of two Carbonic acid in water. elementary gases, hydrogen and oxygen; Water actual practice we do not get precisely these proportions. Oxygen being more soluble in Water than hydrogen, rather more than double the quantity of the latter will be found collected in the tube inverted over the negative pole of the battery. If a light be applied to this gas it will burn with a pale flame, and, in so doing, will unite with the oxy- gen of the air to form water once more. Öf the other gas it is sufficient to say that it is oxygen, of whose properties we have already Spoken. Hydrogen is an invisible gas, taste- less and free from smell; but, unlike oxygen, it will not support vital action. It is the lightest of all the known elements, and is therefore taken as the standard by which to estimate the relative weights of the different elements. Hydrogen being placed at the head of the list as 1, oxygen, nearly sixteen times as heavy, figures as 16, nitrogen as 14, and so on for the entire series. It Relative follows, therefore, that the , weights of weight of the oxygen in a given hydrºgen and volume of water is as 8 to 1, **** although the volume of the hydrogen is twice GERMAN. 211 that of the oxygen. Having now learnt what is the actual constitution of water, we must not conclude, however, that it is sufficient to bring these two gases into contact for them to unite to form water. They will not do so, even if mingled in exactly the proportion in which we have ascertained by analysis that they combine in water. Their chemical affinity is not suffi- ciently great to determine their union. Con- sidering how universally water is met with, this fact will perhaps strike our readers as singular. To effect their combination we have to summon the aid of combustion or electrical action. We have already pointed out that hydrogen is combustible, and that, in burning, it unites with the oxygen of the air to form tº water. If a light be applied to Syntheſiºal the mouth of a vessel containing *P** a mixture of these gases, they unite with explosive violence, and the sides of the vessel are seen to be bedeved with condensed water vapour. Such experiments require to be performed with the greatest cau- tion, on account of the highly explosive nature of the gaseous mixture. The chemical union of the two gases may in like manner be deter- mined by the passage of the electric spark through a vessel containing them. *iº Sºº gºtº --------- 3&E VIII. THE VERB ©aben (continued). The Future, the Conditional, and the Im- perative Mood illustrated. Inversion of mords, and its effect on the position of the We?"b. WE have already seen that when a verb occurs in a compound tense, the part that does not change—namely, the infinitive CŞaben) or the past participle (gebabſ)—is moved to the end of the sentence. We have now to speak of the part of the verb that is variable, changing according to the person and number. When a sentence is direct—that is, when it begins with the subject (nominative)—the verb immediately follows the subject, and no word may come between them. Thus in English we say, “My father often had books; ” but in German it would be wrong to put the word “often ‘’ before the verb. We must say, p. 9)?ein Sater batte oft Şüder," for as the sentence begins with the nominative , SJºein §ater,” the verb, * Watte," must come next. Thus the first rule with regard to the position of the verb in Ger- Imam is : IN A SIMPLE DIRECT SENTENCE THE VERB COMES NEXT AFTER THE NOMINATIVE. Often the Order of words in a sentence is changed or inverted, certain words being put out of their ordinary places. Thus, if we say, “Books I have, money I have not,” the order of the words is inverted; for maturally it would be—I (subject or nominative) have (verb) books (objective or accusative), I (nominative) have not (verb) money (objective); or we may say, “To-day I have an apple, yesterday I had a pear,”—the Sentence in this case beginning with an adverb of time instead of with the nomina- tive case, I; SO that here again there is inver- sion or transposition of words. In translating these sentences into German we should have to say, Söädjer babe itſ 5 (jeſb jabe id) midt (Books have I; money have / mot), and Şeute §abe id) einen 2pfeſ; geſtern batte id eine $8trne (To-day have I, etc., yesterday had I, etc.) The second rule therefore is: IN A SIMPLE INDIRECT SENTENCE (one that begins with another word than the nominative) THE VERB IS PUT NEXT BEFORE THE NOMINATIVE. This must be remembered in translating the follow- ing exercise. For Translation into English. 3)aš Štimb noteb eine 5teube babem. dass kinnt vier,'t 'ne froiſ-de haſ-ben Şeute merben noir bie Söädjer baben. hoiſ-te vairm'-dem vegrº dee bue'-cher haſ-ben (ºr mittbe bač (jeſt geſabt baben. ©er air, vuer'-de dass gelt ge-hapt’ haſ-ben dare §reumb piro baá Šergmügen baben. ©qā froind veerri dass fer-gnue'-gen haſ ben dass 8amb mitribe einen &aſb geşābt baben. §aſp land vuer’-de iſ-nen vald ge-hapt’ haſ-ben bald moirb baá šeſb Šſumten flabelt. Gjeſtern vierrt dass felt bloomen haſ-ben guest'-erm mirben mir midſt 3eit geſabt baben. §§ir vuer-den veer, micht tsite ge-hapt’ haſ-ben veer merben jeute ein Şferb baben. Safit wairr-den hoi-te ine pfaird haſ-ben lasst umě (, as baá Šteffer fiaben. §aſp wns in pull) dass mes'-ser haſ-ben. bgld werben (ºte ben $ritiſing baben. ©en vairm'-den zee dame frie-ling haſ-ben dane §§inter perpen mit getabf baben. ©er vin'-ten vair'-den veer ge-hapt’ haſ-ben dare Serbſt miro ſpſeſ, Şirmen, unb ºffau- hairrbst veery'd epp-fel beer,'—nen und pſion'- men ſabem. Smt $inter perpen noir midji onen haſ-ben im, vin'-ter vair)'-den, veer, nicht §§§eſ baben. ©aš Šajr ſat feine Saffreða foeh'-gel haſ-ben dass yahr hat cy'-ne yah'-2'es- 3eiten. ©ie Štimber mürben Gºſfuše geşağt tsy-ten dee kin'-der vuerr'-den shoe'-e ge-hapt’ baben. ©er Söruber umb bie G5d myeſter haſ-ben, dare broo'-de,” und dee shves'-ter Iberben feine (25tfittie jaben. Snt Simfer vair'-den ky'-ne shoe'-e ha'-ben im vin'-ter ityetbelt ityit midt (Sºrbbecrett babcit. vain)"—den veen'r micht airrt'-bai):-ren haſ-ben. ©te £effrey iberbert Šljuſer bubcut. 3)te dee lair -er vairm'-den tahl'-er ha'-ben dee Qſìſer mirbent midt $ſument babeit. tail/-er rue?'r’-den micht bloo'-men ha'-ben. §aſſer mirbe mtein Årcumb uitit gchabt vas-ser vue,”-de mine frośnd nicht ge-hapt' ſaben. §§ir ſabert etit Sºpritinyort: baá Šaffer ha'ben veer” haſ-bcn ine sprich'-vort dass vas-ser §at feine Sqſtem. §§erbert Gºte (jebuſt jabcm2 hat ky'-ne bal'-ken vair'-dem żee ge-duld haſ-ben 212 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. *— §aſb noiro mein §reunt bie şteube baben bald vier’t mine froind dee froi-de haſ-ben. Çinen &irſt jögum at mein 3ruber in &-men kee,”sh-bonym hat mime brood'-er in ſeiment Garten miſfit geſabt 3ie mirben zy'-nen garr'-ten night ge-hapt! Zee vue”-den Gjeſſenfe geşağt jaben. J'orgen merben ge-shen'-kege-hapt haſ-ben morrº-gen vain?'-den mein Śreunb umb itſ ein Gjeſdjenf jaben. mine froënd unt ich ine ge-shenk' haſ-ben (jeſtern moiſtbe meine ºutter 30tt geſabt guest’-erm vuenº'-de mine mut'-ter tSite ge-hap baben. ©er finabe batte eine ſtate geñabt. haſ-ben dare knah'-be hat-te ’-me kat-se ge-hapt’ Øu mirſt miſfit śraube baben. §§r werpet doo vierrst might froiſ-de haſ-ben ear” vair?'-det feine $8ſumen 9aben. ©ie 3.5geſ merben hy'-ne bloom’-em haſ-ben dee foeh'-gel vair?'-den Şebern baben. Qaff ben £naben einen fay'-dern haſ-ben lass dane knah'-ben iſ-nen $3(eiſtift baben. 8afft ung baá 3ergmügen bly'-stift ha'-ben lasst uns dass fer-gnue'-gen §aben. ©er §§inter bat feine $8ſumten, aber ha -ben dare vin-ter hat ky'-ne bloo'-men ah'-ber ber §rüğſing piro 3ſumen baben. dare fruel/-ling vierrt bloo'-men haſ-ben Şipſet umb 98irmen witb ber ºeröſt epp'-ſel unt bee,”-nen vie'rt dare hairrbst baben. (jebuſb perben Öie miſjt baben. Jia'-ben ge-dult vair'-den zee nicht haſ-ben §affen bat baá Ščaffer midjt. 3)ett Sinter ãal"-ken hat dass vasſ-ser nicht dang vin'-ter merben noir baſb 9abem. vain.”’’-den veer” bald ha'-ben. Notice the effect of inversion in placing the verb before the nominative : “Silver and gold Jave I none.” The proverb, , Øać Šaſſet bat feine Söqífen" means that water has no strength to support or uphold. “Unstable as water, thou shalt not prevail.” (Genesis.) “Men's evil manners live in brass, their virtues we write in water.” (Shakespeare.) WOCABULARY, Singular. Plagºal. baá Štimb, the child bie Šētmber das kindt - dee kinder ber ºaſb", the wood bie Sºčáſber dare vald dee welden' bag $eſb, the field dass felt ber §rüßling,” spring dare frueh'-ling ber ©ommer, summer dare zom/-mer bie Šeſber dee fe!’-deo. bie Ärüßlinge dee frateh-linge bie (250mmitter dee zom/mer ber §eröſt,” autumn bie Øerbſte alare hai,”bst dee hai,”bste ber 3inter, winter bie Ščinter dare vin'-ten' dee vin'-ten' bie Saffrečjett," the season bie Saffreð3etten dee yah'-res-tsite dee yah'-res-tsi-ten ber ©djuſ, the shoe bie &ſjuße dare shoe “ dee shoe'-e baá 3.5gſ,” the valley bie 3.jäſer dass tahl dee tail'-ler ber 3:6aſer,” the dollar bie 3.5G ſet dare tahl'-er dee tah'-le?” baá 3&aſſer, the water bie Ščaſſer dass vas'-ser dee vas'-ser ber 98qſtem,” the beam of bie SBaſtem dare bal’-ken. [wood dee bal-ken baš Čpriſimport,” the pro- bie &priſinjórter dass sp?ich'-vort [verb dee spirich/-vérter bie (jebuſt,” patience (no plural) dee ge'-dult baſb,” soon ðald bie şreube, the joy bte $reitbert dee froiſ-de dee froiſ-den ber firſt baunt,” the cherry- bie ſtirſ fibäumte dare keerrsh'-bonºm [tree dee keer, sh'-boi-me bač (§eſſent, the present bie Geſſenfe, dass ge-shenk' dee ge-shen'-ke morgen, to-morrow morr’-gen ber Jºrgen, the morning dare mor,”-gen bie D'orgem dee morn"—gen OBSERVATIONS. * The English words arold and weald (Stow-on-the- Wold, and the Weald of Kent) come from the German Wald. The name of the Waldegrave family is also from Wald-graf, Count of the forest. * Frühling is from Früh, early, and means the early COIOleI’. * From Herbst, by the change of the vowel, and of the b into v, we have ‘harvest.” * Jahres-zeit, literally Year's-tide or time of year. * Pronounced exactly like the English word. * Hence the English word ‘dale.” ” The coin, the dollar or Thaler, took its name from the ‘Joachim’s-thal,” or Joachim valley in Bohemia, Where it was coined. * From Balken comes the term a “baulk” of timber, a ‘bulkhead’ in a ship, etc. o §ºwer, literally a ‘speak-word,” a word often SOOKēIl. p? Geduld and Geschenk have the accent on the second syllable, which is the radical—dulden, to bear, and schenken, to give; the ge is merely a prefix. * The a to be pronounced as in art ; not as in the English word “bald.’ * The aw in IBawm, like ow in down. English Version, for correcting the foregoing study, and for retranslation into German. The child will have a joy.” To-day we shall have the books. He would have had the money. The friend will have the pleasure. The land would have had a wood. Soon the field will have flowers. Yesterday we should not have had time. We shall have a horse to-day. Let us have the knife. Soon you will have the spring. The winter we shall have had. Autumn will have apples, pears, and plums. In the winter we shall not have birds. The year has its seasons. The children would have had shoes. The brother and the sister will have no shoes. In winter we shall not have strawberries. The teachers will have dollars. The valleys would not have flowers. Water, my friend would not have had. We have a proverb, “The water has no beams.” Will you have patience 7 Soon my friend will have the joy. A cherry-tree my friend has not had in his garden. They would have had presents. To-morrow my friend and I will f - * Freude, joy, is stronger than Vergnigen, pleasure." ARITH METIC. 213 have a present. Yesterday my mother would have had time. The boy had had a coat. Thou wilt not have joy. Ye will have no flowers. The birds will have feathers. Let the boy have a pencil. Let us have the plea- sure. The winter has no flowers, but spring will have flowers. Apples and pears autumn will have. Patience you will not have. Beams the water has not. Winter we shall soon have. ºSºº-º-º: > * : A\º Š. #(º ~. ºś §:ºSºº #ºss º: *-i- ºsº's CºCºcº Cºo CCº. C Cºcºşiº e º 'º º ºs & § VIII. Concrete A7'ithmetic. WE have hitherto considered only those rules of Arithmetic which deal with abstract num- bers—-that is, numbers which do not stand for any particular objects, and therefore these rules are true whatever objects the numbers may stand for. We shall now give some rules for dealing with particular objects, such as sums Of money, weights, measures, and so on ; and these rules will be true only of the particular objects in respect of which the rule is given. We suppose that every one knows the fol- lowing, which is called the Table of English Money, 2 farthings 1 halfpenny, i.e. $6. 2 halfpence = 1 penny, 7.6. 1d. 12 pence = 1 shilling, i.e. 1s. 20 shillings = 1 pound, i.e. £1. Pounds are denoted by the symbol £, shillings by S., pence by d., farthings either as fractions of a penny Or by the symbol q. And these symbols, £, S., d., q., stand for the initial letters of the Latin words Libra (a pound weight), Solidus, demarius, and quadrans (the names of Roman coins). Accounts are always kept in pounds and the Subdivisions of a pound, i.e., shillings, pence, and farthings, although there are many other coins in circulation, such as the florin, half- crown, sixpenny-piece, etc. The sovereign and half-sovereign and the now disused guinea are gold coins. But they are not of quite pure gold. In fact, quite pure gold would be too soft and liable to break to stand the hard usage which sovereigns get, and would be very difficult to stamp well. This is expressed by Saying that pure gold is not malleable. To give the gold the necessary toughness a small quantity of another metal is mixed with it, in Such proportion that in 12 parts of the mixture 11 are pure gold and 1 part is of baser metal. It is more usual to Say (what means the same as this) that pure gold is 24 carats fine, and “standard gold” (i.e. the gold of our coinage) Only 22 carats fine ; i.e., that in 24 carats of standard gold (a carat = 3; grains) there are 22 carats of pure gold, the remaining two carats being some baser metal. The value of this standard gold is £3 17s. 103d. per oz. 'Nor is standard silver quite pure. In 40 parts of standard silver 37 parts are pure silver and the other three parts are baser metal. The market price of this silver is about 5s. 1; d. per oz. No charge is made for coining gold at the Mint, but silver is charged about 4%d. an Oz. for coining. The copper, or rather bronze coinage, con- sists of 95 parts of copper, 4 of tin, and 1 of Zllſ) C. The following table, called the Pence Table, ought to be committed to memory :— 12d. make 1s. 84d. make 7s. 20d. , 1s. 8d. 90d. , 7s. 6d. 24d. , 2s. 96d. , 8s. 30d. , 2s. 6d. 100d. , 8s. 4d. 36d. , 3s. 10Sd. , 9s. 40d. , 3s. 4d. 110d. , 9s. 2d. 48d. , 4s. 120d. , 10s. 50d. , 4s. 2d. 130d. , 103. 10d. 60d. , 5s. 132d. , lls. 70d. , 5s. 10d. 140d. , 11s. 8d., 72d. , 6s. 144d. , 128. 80d. , 6s. 8d. Sums of money are generally expressed by means of three different units of measurement (or denominations, as they are sometimes called). Thus five pounds seventeen shillings and sixpence (written £5 17s. 6d.) is expressed by means of pounds, shillings, and pence ; and pounds, shillings, and pence are said to be “denominations”; shillings being “lower " than pounds, and pence “lower” than shillings. REDUCTION. A sum of money expressed in more than one unit or denomination is called a compound quantity. Thus £3 15s. 6d., which is expressed by means of the three units of measurement (or denominations), viz. £, S., d., is a compound quantity. It is evident we might have expressed this compound quantity in a different manner. For since £1 = 20s., it follows that £3 =60s., and therefore the above sum might be written in the form 75s. 6d. Again, since 1s. = 12d., it follows that 75s. = 12 × 75d. = 900d. ; so that the above sum, £3 15s. 6d., may be written 906d. The process of thus éxpressing in any re- quired denomination a sum of money which is expressed in some different denominations is called Reduction. Example 1: Express in pence the sum £713s.5d. Now £7 = 20 × 75. = 140s. ..'. 4.7 13s. = 140s.--13s. = 153s. Again 153s. = 12× 153d. = 1836d. ... 153s. 5d. = 1836d. +5d = 184ld. Hence £7 13s. 5d. = 1841.d. The process might have been written as follows :- £ s. d. 7 13 5 Multiplying 7 by 20 and adding 20 in 13, we get 153s, 140+13 = 153 Multiplying 153 by 12 and 12 adding in 5, we get 1841d. -*. 1836+5 = 1841. 214 TEIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. And this way of writing it enables us to See at once the truth of the following Rule for Re- duction :- * r * To express a compound quantity in lower denominations than those in which it is given, multiply the number of the highest denomi- nation in the given quantity by the number of times the next lower denomination is con- tained in one unit of the highest, and to the product add the number of that lower denomi- nation, if there be any, in the given quantity. Repeat this process for each succeeding de- nomination till the required one is arrived at. Example 2: Reduce £1718s. 93d. to farthings. #9. We say, multiply £17 by 20, the 17 is g; number of shillings in a pound, 20 4 and add in 188. This gives 358s. 35S Now multiply this 358 by 12, ; 2 the number of pence in a shilling, and add in the 9d. This gives 4305d. * Lastly, multiply this 4305 by 4, the number of farthings in a 17221 penny, and add in 1. This gives 17221 farthings. Example 3: Reduce £1250s. 03d. to farthings. # *, *, Multiply £125 by 20–we get 12.9 0; 2500s., and there are no shillings to be added in. 2500 So multiply this 2500 by 12,- 2.49 12 this gives 30000, and there are no pence to be added in. 30000 So multiply by 4, and add in 3. 4 This gives 120003, the final result. 120003 Example 4: Reduce £6 1s. 8d. to fourpences, Tn other words, find how many fourpences there are in £6 1s. 8d. £ S. d. There are 20s. in £1 ; ... mul- 6 1 8 tiply 6 by 20, to reduce the 20 pounds to shillings. Then add- ing in the 13. we have 121s. Now in 1s. there are 3 four- pences; ... in 121s, there are 3 × 121 fourpences. We must 365 fourpences multiply 121 by 3. This gives us 363 fourpences; and then adding in the 8d., which is the same as 2 four- pences, we get finally 365 fourpences as the equivalent of £6 13.8d. smsmº, 121 shillings sºm-mºm Jºvercises. 1. Reduce to pence the following sums:– £126; £231 15s. ; £217 11s. 1d. ; £1897 17s. 7d. ; £56854 18s. 9d. 2. How many half-crowns are required to make up £2049 17s. 6d. 7 and how many guineas are equal to 16254 pence 7 3. Reduce to farthings the following — £784 15s. 33d.; £19 17s. 11:#d. ; £104 3s. 33d. 4. Reduce to their lowest denominations the following quantities — £536 15s. ; g-121 16s. 11d. ; £5330 0s. 6d, ; £472 19s. 11}d. 5. If the sum of £361 18s. 6d. be divided among 24 people, how many farthings will each person get 7 x. Answers: 1, 30240; 55620; 52213; 455491; 13645.125. 2. 16399 half-crowns; 64; guineas. 3. 753375q.; 191034.; 99999q. 4. 10735s.; 101243d.; 1279206d.; 4540774, 5. 14477. VII. A DIET of the empire was held at Augsburg, in 1530; and here the question of the new doctrine was to be definitely de- cided. On the 25th of June the Diet of Protestants handed in that cele-Augsburg, 1580. brated Confession, in which the º zeal of Luther had been tempered “ . º by the learning and moderation tº of Melanchthon, to whom had been entrusted the preparation of the document in German and Latin. Very conciliatory was the spirit of the Augsburg Confession. The reformers endeavoured to approximate as closely as pos- sible to the Latin Church, and kept entirely aloof from the more innovating party of Zwingli's followers,...who handed in a separate confession which was not accepted. But the Roman party, headed by the pope, would listen to nothing short of unconditional sub- mission. The more violent partisans declared that “red initials of blood” should be put to the Augsburg Confession; the opponents of the reformers insisted that the decrees of councils should be regarded as invested with the authority of inspiration; the Protestants were as firm in regarding them as human, and therefore as fallible ordinances. Under such circumstances, the conference, that endeavoured to bring about an agreement, failed ; and the decree of the diet contemptuously designating the Protestants as a sect whose confession was contrary to Scripture, and forbidding them to teach their doctrines, aroused even the most pacific among them to anger. Melanchthon published his masterly Apology, 3 upholding the Augsburg Con- mº fession ; and the evangelical pology,” deputies and princes departed without waiting for the close of the diet. They had now taken a definite position, and were determined to defend it to the last. The diet, on the other hand, threatened the “new sect” with extinc- tion, and menaced with the ban of the empire all who within a certain period failed to give up their dangerous innovations, Luther him- Self could not be present at this great and important scene; for he was under the ban of the empire, pronounced at the diet at Worms. He remained in the castle of Coburg, watching and directing the course of events. That he FIISTORY OF MODERAW TIMES. 215 was heart and soul with the Protestant depu- ties is shown by his own words: “Great is my joy,” he said, “to have lived to see this hour, when Christ is proclaimed by such confessors, before such an assembly, through so glorious a confession l Now the word is fulfilled : ‘I will speak of thy testimony also before kings.’” Affairs now assumed a warlike aspect. A System of legal persecution, commenced against League of them on the charge of having con: Protestant fiscated church property, united princes at the Protestant princes in the Smaſkald, league of Smalkald, at the little Dec., 1530, town of that name in the Thu- ringian forest. By this covenant they pledged themselves to united action in defence of any member of the league attacked on account of his faith. At Frankfort the proceedings of the Smalkald league were confirmed. The Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse were appointed heads of the league. Bitterly hostile as were the feelings of Charles against the Protestants, he was not at that time in a condition to proceed to extremities against them. Several unpopular acts, especially the illegal coronation of his brother Ferdinand, had imperilled his influence in Germany. The Turks threatened Austria and Hungary with invasion, and union of the Germans of all districts and creeds against the common invader became imperatively necessary. Accordingly Charles temporized. At Nuremberg a peace was concluded, on the basis of suspension of all legal action against the Protestants, and reference of the general question to a Church council to be summoned at the first opportunity. Thus the strife was delayed, but not prevented. A cold, calculating man, accustomed to bide his time, Charles determined to postpone his vengeance on the Protestants to “a more convenient season,” when the Turks, and above all, France, should have ceased to menace him as enemies. In the next years the madness of fanaticism broke out again, to the detriment of the The Reformation, bewildering the half- Anabaptists hearted, leading astray the igno- at Munster rant, and discouraging even the (1533-1535), best friends of religious progress and freedom. The anabaptists had been forcibly put down in the Peasant War; but their doc- trines had survived ; and at Münster, in West- phalia, Rottmann, one of the most popular of the evangelical preachers, startled and grieved the moderate part of the community by degenerating into fanatical extravagance. Presently a wandering preacher from the Netherlands, John Matthison, appeared in Münster, with his fellow-countryman and disciple, John Bockholt (John of ğ. Leyden). These men gained the *** turbulent mob to their side, drove their opponents from the town, established a system of community of goods; and, after making themselves masters of the place, pro- ceeded to defend it against the besieging army of the bishop. Matthison was killed in a sally of the besieged. Bockholt thereupon ruled despotically in the unhappy city, instituting a čind of council of twelve elders, and appointing one of the wildest of the fanatics, Knipper- dolling, to the double office of burgomaster and executioner. Bockholt called himself the King of Israel, assumed the title “John by God’s grace King in the New Temple,” sat on the chair of judgment in the market-place of Münster, punishing with death all who raised their voices against the extravagances of his rule, of which polygamy was one. The confi- dence of the fanatics in their leader was heroic, and the defence was maintained to the last extremity ; but famine at length prevailed even over fury and desperation, and Münster was taken. The end was like that of all similar outbreaks. The chiefs were tortured to death, and their mangled remains were suspended in iron cages from a tower, as a perpetual warning; those of their followers who had not fallen during the siege were executed or driven away; and the madness of the fanatics was used as a pretext for restoring the Roman form of worship, and for establishing the Tule of nobles and clergy, while the former freedom and privileges of the citizens were abolished. . . On the other hand, the league of Smalkald was being gradually but Surely strengthened and widened. The Albertine Duke George of Saxony, a rigid advocate §. . of the old Church, died in 1539, and ** his successor Henry, just as zealous for the Pro- testant doctrines, introduced the long-desired Reformation into the whole of Saxony. Luther preached in Leipsic. Dresden and Meissen became Protestant ; and the convents, already half-deserted, were closed. In Brandenburg, in like manner, the Elector Joachim, so zealous a Romanist that he had even driven away his Protestant consort, was succeeded by two Sons, both of whom took the side of the reformers; and Brandenburg, like Saxony, followed the example of its ruler. This had a great and decisive effect on Northern Germany. In other parts of the empire also, the Smalkaldic league obtained new adherents, the imperial cities being especially zealous on the Protestant side. In Cologne, Bonn, Andernach, and even in Austria, the new cause gained many adherents. Thus, at the diet of Ratisbon, in January 1541, another attempt at reconciliation was | made by the peace-loving Me- Diet of lanchthon and the tolerant papal Ratisbon, legate Contarini; but not only 1541, the pope, but Luther and the elector, were against the proposed accommodation, in which each saw only a snare; and this last attempt failed. Meanwhile Charles had secured "a Tespite from the attacks of foreign enemies. For a time he was at peace both with the French and the Turks; and accordingly he could safely abandon the conciliatory policy that had left his hands free for foreign wars, and begin to carry out his long-cherished scheme of forcibly suppressing the Reformation in Germany. In Cologne and Cleve the per- secution began ; and soon the Netherlands witnessed the public burning of Protestant clergymen. Just at the time when the coming cloud of war darkened the horizon of Germany, the great preacher who had seen the sun of the Reformation rise over his country was removed º º º º | } º º º | | Y i| º - | º l | | º | T. | º º | *. | | º º | | ill | Nº |||| | | ||| º º | | i º | !. º ºº:::: | Il i | | º ! º | º º * # | º º | | | | º | | | º |ºil; º: #ſºft º º 4 # º º | | | * ſ º t | º º | º º ºf: º º | | H | titliſtſ § | º |||} h; | | | | | | | l º | º sºilº TH s ]] º | |||}| t º ſ ºffſ; |iº tº i FREWCHI PROWUAWOIATION. from the scene. On the 18th of February, 1546, at Eisleben, the place of his birth, * died Martin Luther, calmly main- {} taining, with his last breath, the doctrine he had fearlessly taught for thirty years, through evil and through good report. He was a man especially suited for the times in which he lived; no dreamer, or unpractical enthusiast, but a sturdy man of action, fit to stand before kings and courts and battle for the right. “Where,” says a German writer, “shall We find a second time that inexhaustible depth of faith, with the same irresistible com- mand of the popu- lar language, and the same strength of will and readiness for action ?” His work was done, and the great reformer was Imercifully re- moved from the sight of the evil days that were to come. His corpse was carried, by :... soº order of the elec- **ś tor, in solemn sººººººº-sº §rocession from Eisleben to Wit- tenberg, there to rest where he had first raised the banner of truth against imposition, on that day when he nailed the immortal ninety- Sºlºš * º º º #13, £Sºº & §§§ Es. Sº sº TUN IS, THE NASAL WOWELS. § 42. These sounds are peculiar to the French language, and present the great elo- cutionary difficulty which the foreign student has to overcome ; indeed, southern Frenchmenthem- selves do not seem capable of pro- nouncing them purely. From personal obser- Vation we are satisfied that a Briton can sooner master these than a genuine Gascom. They certainly add no charm to the pronuncia- tion, for, being started very far back and high in the mouth, they come out muffled and dull. If they cannot be avoided in song, the composers at least guard themselves from setting to these nasal sounds high or long notes. They are expressed in writing by n or m placed after - -3 ; ########fff; tº “- #º Eºs §§ º §§ ɺ. * & 3& N ! º: 3. sº § §:# §§§ º: * : * Jºšº t *- *. THIS RSCURIAL, MADRID. His wife Katharine survived him some years. After his death she fell into poverty, and was utterly neglected by the Protestant princes, She died at Torgau, in 1552, and was interred in the parish church of that town. Her letters show her to have been a woman of intellect. any of the simple vowels a, e, i, o, ø, y, or some of the compound vowels and diphthongs. In order that the vowel placed at the beginning or in the body of a word be nasal, it is neces- sary that m or n be the last letter of the syllable, that m or n be not doubled, nor that 218 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. a vonel or h mute should follow m or m. The examples given in Exercise VI. will exhibit these features. § 43. All the nasal vowels may be reduced to four original sounds, which must be acquired first : an OT (en), in, on, alm. (a) an (or en). Pronounce the English word aunt with as deep a sound as the word will admit of that is, a sound as far removed as possible from ant; observe carefully that the vowel sound and has become dull, that it is not started from the centre of the mouth as a com- mon a (say in father) would be, but from the back ; now, if you could retain that dull sound of au, without any approach to the articulation nt, you would obtain the nasal Sound an (or &n) all but perfectly. (b) in. Pronounce twang with the worst Żmang you are able to command ; try to divest the sound of tºw and ng ; what remains comes very near to the French sound in, especially if you attempt to draw the sound well out. (c) on. Repeat several times aloud the Eng- lish word long, and observe that the Sound, started in the same way as am, but from a higher region of the mouth, is closed up by ng; now, if you would dwell on lon, with the in- tention of saying long, without ever letting the sound be closed up by ng in the very least degree, you would produce the French Sound 6972). (d) un. Apply the same process to the word Jºung as to long. Ičemark.-Even those who have had the advantage of oral tuition must have their attention drawn to this point. The disposi- tion to pronounce an (en) in, on, wºn as ang, ing, ong, ung, is not easily eradicated. Just at the moment you feel the least approach to the articulation n, when the nasal part of the Sound has been started, stop short, and for the better detection of this defect, read the following exercise very loud. IXERCISE VI. Du rubAN, la SANté, le cadr.AN, le dim ANche, pBNsé, l'am ENde, mENdiANte, ENfANtEN, du vTN, lapIN, p.ANtEN, bassIN, galopIN, INCENdie, bONbON, savon, garçON, charbon, la f(N du moNde, le p|NSON chANte, de bon mat.LN, SimON VENdra UN pant.IN au gamIN, mON pANtalon sera fini (fi-mi) lundi matLN, le Tabb IN fera UN sermon sav ANt, chacUN raconte la fin de la défunte, le cadr.AN de ma moNtre, MartIN a demANdé pardoN A. Louison, Clém HNtIN a rBNCONtré UN polissON, nous avoNs ENtENdu la legON, qu'attºnd-ON-tANt, que ne les teNd-ON ? (ka-tan-tom-tam, que me les tam-tom.) § 44. The four nasal sounds can be graphi- cally rendered in several other ways without the least variation in quality occurring. a. The sound an is also spelt — am : chAMbre, cAMp, quid AM (keedan), DAM- ville, dAM (hurt), AdAM, SAMSon, AMphore. aen. : CAEN. aOn : fáON, LAON, paON, tAON. en : IENtem ENt, parENts, je rRNds, tANgENte. em: EMbage, EM pereur, rees EMbler. ean: JEAN, nagEANt. b. The Sound in is also spelt:- im: IMbibé, tiMbale, SIMple, grLMpé. ain : graiN, AINsi, plain dre, refraiN. aim : dAIM, falM, étAIM. ein: étEINdre, pFINture, freIN, serEIN. yn : SYNtaxe, SYNcope. ym: SYMpathie, SYMptôme, tyMpan. c. The Sound on is also spelt:— Om : InoMbre, noM, ploMb, OMbre. eOn : pigEON, plong EON. d. The Sound um is also spelt :— um : hUM.ble, parfum. eun : â jEUN. § 45. The following diphthongs are formed in connection with the nasal vowels:– dam, pr. i-an in One syllable: VIANde, meat. 'ien, pr. i-in }} : chIEN, dog. don, pr. i-on ; ) : penSION,boarding- house. oin, pr. ow-in } } : COIN, corner. 07/an, pr. 070-a” . : chou AN, revolted Vendéen. win, pr. w-in, 3 y : SUINt, grease (of wool, etc.) 3/an, yen, y07: ayant (ai-IAN), moyen (moi-I-IN), Tayon (rai-ION). § 46. Remarks on an and its homonyms. (1) am. This nasal Sound is destroyed by n, a vowel, or h mute, following it:— am, year, but année, do. (a-né). paysan, peasant, but paysanne, do. (zam'). anse, handle, but anis, anise (a-mi). Santé, health, but Sanitaire, Sanitary (Sa-ni). anhydre, destitute of water (a-midr’). Likewise : an harmonique (a-mar), anhélation. (a-né), anhéler (a-né), anhiste (a-mist'), Samhédrin (Sa-né), Kellermann (man'), lan- damman, a Swiss magistrate (lam-da-man'). (2) am. With the exception of Adam, where am is nasal, both a and m retain their own Sounds at the end of proper nouns derived from foreign languages: Abraham, Amsterdam, (am'-sterdam'), Balaam (ba-la-am), Cham, (Kam), Islam, Nottingham, Siam, Surinam, etc. Samson is pronounced San-son, and hamster, mus cricetus, am/-stör"). Nor is am nasal when it is followed by m, n, or any vowel: flamme, flame (flam'), ammistie, amnesty (am'-mi-stie), amou?', love (a-mour). In dammer and its de- rivatives comdamme”, condammation, etc., read da-mer, da-ma. (3) aon. This nasal sound is destroyed by doubling ºn : fadmme, roe (fan'), paonne, pea- hen (pan'). (4) em. a. At the beginning of a word em is always nasal, although it be followed by a vowel or another n : encadrer, to frame (en- cadrer); enhardiº', to embolden (en-ardir); s'énamoun'er, to fall in love (sen-mamourer); emivºrer, to intoxicate (en-nivrer); s'enor- gueillir, to take pride (sem-morgueillin'); emnoblin, to ennoble (en-noblin); ennui, bother (en-mui). However, emnemi and all technical terms be- ginning with the prefix ennéa (a Greek word meaning nine) are pronounced &m/. b. In the body of a word en remains nasal: amende, a fine (a-men-d'); menthe, peppermint (men-t'); unless it be followed by a vowel, when the e becomes slendºz', or even mute, and the n is carried on to the vowel to form with it, FREWCH PROMUNCIATION. 219 ! a syllable: genou, a knee (ge-now or g'nou); mener, to lead (me-ner or m”ver). Followed by another n, en loses completely the nasal Sound, and is pronounced enſ: mienne, mine (mièn'); Öiennal, biennial (biè-mal); décennal, decen- nial (dé-cé-nal); and thus triennal, Porsenna, étrennes, que je prenne, etc. Note the follow- ing important points: 1st, pronounce hemmin', to neigh, menni, not at all, solemnel, Solemn, a-mir, ma-ni, so-la-nel; 2nd, Menhir, a Druidical stone = mé-ni»; 3rd, in agenda, Bengale, Penjamin, benjoin, mémento, mentor, pensum, and in all those technical terms beginning with the prefix penta (a Greek word meaning five), pronounce en like the nasal Sound in, q.v. $43 b : 4th, ingrédient, which some pronounce &ngrédien (en = in), is more correctly pronounced in-gré-dian (see Académie and Littré), follow- ing in this respect other words in ient, as client (clian), eaſpédient (dian), orient (orian); 5th, the verbal termination ent is mute: ils voient, pr. voi, but ils voient un peu, pr. ils voi tun pew ; Žls regardent, pr. ils regard', but ils regardent de prés, pr; ils re-gar-de (e slender).” c. At the end of a word, øy is generally pronounced in (§ 43 b); it is always So when it is preceded by i or y. Européen, European, pr. eu-ro-pé-in. Phocéen, Phocean, pr. fo-cé-in. earamen, examination, pr. 6-a-a-min (mostly). Jºymen, marriage, pr. i-min (sometimes). soutien, support, pr. Sow-tien (en. = in). citoyen, citizen, pr. ci-toi-ien (&n = in). In this list, en is pronounced en : abdomen, amen, cyclamen (bot.), Eden, gluten, gramen, Zichen, Wiémen, pollen, Solen, Spécimen. (5) em is nasal when it is placed before b or p : sembler, to appear, pr.sen-ble"; emporter, to carry off, pr. en-por-ter; whereas remettre, to deliver, and semelle, sole, are read re-mêt," and se-mêl/ or 7'mět)' and sºmél'. Read, therefore, also indemne, lemme, lemmien, lemnisque, Mem- mon, Agamemnon, with the Sound &m'n' ; in- demnité and its derivatives, however, have the sound dam’n. Read also with the Sound &m': Béthléem, harem, Harlem, hem, Jérusalem, Moslem, requiem, etc., -add décemºir, etc., all compounds of décem, except décembre, * in which the nasal sound, owing to the presence of b, is maintained. (6) emm, at the beginning of a word, is nasal: emmagasine”, emmaillotter, emmancher, em- méler, emmene)', emmieller, emmusele”, etc., are read en-magasimer, en-maillotte", etc. In any other position emm is pronounced anº', ; dili- gemment (di-li-gea-men), ávidemment (é-vi-da- %men), femme (farm'). Except, however, dilemme (di-lèm'), lemme (lèm'), lemming (lé-mingh), Emma (3m/-ma), Emmaüs (èm'-mails), Ehmmanuel (3-ma-nuel). (7) eam. The e of this vowel has nothing to do with the sound ; with the exception of Jean (O.F. Jehan), John, it is only used to soften the g placed before an, as nageant, Swimming (ma-zhan). * This example shows" that although a final unac- cented e is mute, it is nevertheless converted into a slender e (see § 20)—thus making a new syllable- whenever the elision of e would bring about an accur mulation of articulations: to read, e.g., juste ciel—just’ Ciel, instead of ju-ste ciel, would prove very harsh. t § 47. Remarks on in and its homonyms :- (1) In § 24 c it has already been pointed out how this nasal Sound is destroyed, and thus in utile, useless, is read i-nu-til'. in-octavo, in 8vo, , 6-moc-ta/-vo. inhabile, unskilled , d’-na-bil'. inné, inborn, , 7-né. Nor is in nasal in these Latin phrases, which have passed into current French : in partibus, in pace, in plano, and in the Italian phrase in petto. On the other hand, it remains nasal before an m : nous vºn mes, we came ; mous tºnºmes, we held. (2) im, or ym lose the nasal Sound on the same conditions as an : imité, imitated, is read i-mi-té. immense, huge, 35 7-mens'. symétrie, Symmetry, , si-mé-ty?. synonymé, Synonym, , si-no-mim'. gymnase, gymnasium, , gim'-naz'. intérim, pro tem., , ſin-té-rimſ. Sélém, is read Sé-lim'; other foreign names are similarly pronounced. Thym, thyme, is pronounced tin (nasal). (3) Ain, aim, and ein. Add e mute, and the nasal sound is destroyed : Soudain, sudden (din), but soudaine (dēm'). faim, hunger (fin), but aime, love (em'). plein, full (plin), but pleine (plenſ). § 48. Remarks on on and its homonyms. (1) on. This combination, in So far as it is a nasal sound, is destroyed in the Same positions as am (§ 46, 1.). Therefore— omérewa, Onerous, is pronounced o-né-reuw. bonne, good, 5 * bon'. bomhomie, good nature, , bû-mö-mi. bonheur, happiness, 5 * bö-neur. Jſonsieur is pronounced either mê-sieu (Aca- démie and Dittré) or me-siev (Littré). The popular Parisian form is m'siew, (2) om is nasal only before the labials b and p : bombe, shell ; pompe, pump ; and in the following : comte, count, and its derivatives; mom, name, and derivatives; Absalom, dom, a title given to certain monks. In hom, and in foreign names, as Edom, Epsom, etc., read hom', Edom', Epsom'. (3) eam. The mute e, here, merely softens the g, and eon is found in no other position than after the g : plongeon, plunge, pigeon, pigeon, mous jugeons, we judge, etc. § 49. Remarks on wx and its homonyms. (1) un, nasal, is destroyed by a vowel placed after it :— common (co-mum), but communal (co-mw-mal), commune (co-mºon'). In the following words, which are nearly all technical, un is pronounced like the nasal on : punch, de profundis, punctilio, wheiale, unei- forme, unciné, uncinostre, unda-maris, undé- eimo, undine, unguéal, unguiſere, unguinetta, wnguin, mºncupatif. muncupation, mundical, puncticulaire, punctiforme. Dunkerque, Sund, etc., are also read by Some Donkerque, Sond", etc. (2) um, nasal, is destroyed by a vowel only, as the case of h or m, placed after wm, does not present itself: humble (wmbl’), but humiłité (u-mi-li-té). The only instance where um is nasal at the end of a word is parſum, perfume. 220 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Sumbwl and swimmun, very little used, are pro nounced som-bul and so-mom/; also umble, a species of trout, otherwise called ombre-cheva- lier; wºmbracule, umbraculiformé, botanical terms. In the following words um sounds om': album, décorum, factotum, géranium, lauda/vw.m., opium, o'hum, te deum (tédé-on'), ultimatum, vade- mecum (va-de-mé-com'), as also in the vast number of similar words imported from the Latin. (3) eun. & jeum, fasting, is the Only case in which this combination appears as a nasal Sound. Add e, as for ječme, fast, and you obtain the close sound of eu (see $ 37a), the nasal sound being destroyed—jeūn'. Avoid confounding this sound with that of jeune (jeun"), young, which contains the open sound of etc. § 50. Remarks on nasal diphthongs. ſ Nasal in But open in iam . viande, meat (i+an) . Diane, Diana - (Dianſ) tienne, thine, (tièn') lion me, lioness (lion') Żmoč726, monk (moinſ) win . Swint, greasiness (u-Hin) 7'uine, ruin (ruinſ) Youenneyie, cot- ton stuff (row- an’-rie) couemme, bacon- rind (cow-an') gen moyen, mean (moi-ien) moyenne (moi- (ien = i + in) iên ) ſien. . tien, thine (i+in) . ion . lion, lion (i+0m) oir. . moëns, less (ow.--ón) ouen Rouen, a city (oo--an) Ecouen, , 23 ° 9 THE FOURTH STEP IN SINGING. THE reader who turns back to the scale tones, as represented at the beginning of the last chapter, will see that between m and f and 'between t and dº there is little more than half the vertical space that there is between the other notes. This is to express the musical fact that the real distance, in point of pitch, between these tones is little more than half the distance between the others. The order and Semi-tones succession of the scale is so natural to us, that we do not at first feel this discrepancy ; but when the attention is called to the point it will generally be per- ceived. A most important point it is, for the Scale tones derive their individuality from the positions of these little steps, or semi-tones as they are called. We have already noticed the Satisfying and conclusive character of Doh, the martial and trumpet-like character of Soh will be apparent to most people ; while the ——º tone Lah, thrown into a prominent place in a melody, leaves a sad and pensive impression On the mind. It is this separate “mental effect” of the Seven tones that gives character to a melody. But a new effect is possible. After singing for some time with one fixed sound for Doh, the ear Welcomes a shifting of Doh on to some other fixed sound ; and it likes this effect best if it can be smoothly managed, without breaking the flow of the music. The ear of the listener is pleased to find the Soh melting into a new Doh, or the Lah, into a new Me. The old tones seem to have put on a new clothing, bright and warm and fresh. This device of “transition,” as it is called, is used in the simplest music, as well as in the most complex. In every instrument there are only a certain number of tones at the composer's command, and he seeks to approach these from every point of view, to Transition. ANCIENT FEUTES AND TROMBONE. clothe them in every colour, and to make his changes as pleasantly striking as possible. The “mental effects” of the tones is the basis of transition, and the singer who carries these effects in mind will not be likely to go wrong. The simplest transition, or shifting of Doh, and that which is used nine times out of ters in music, consists in turning Soh into a new Doh. Let us examine the effect Transition to Of this change upon the position Transition Of the .# W. C&I). is: make *...* the comparison by writing the ſº new Doh on the right hand alongside of Soh, and then adding the rest of the notes above and below. Remember that the pitch is shown by vertical distance. If, therefore, any two notes are on the same level, their pitch will be the same. On this principle, where is the dis- crepancy? Manifestly between Fah and Te : the old Jºah, must in fact be lifted up a little to make the new Te. This new note we call Fe. (See the diagram at the side, which is called a “modulator.”) Listen to the following: : ;i ( ) 81 : MUSIC. 221 REY F, E. J. HOPKINS. ... . . : m | r .m : f |m : m | 1 : s , s : fe s :— — | : d d ; tı | 11 : Si si : 11.t] | d : d [d.r : m | r : r si : — — | To prove the complete change which the “Fé" KEY F. HANDEL. s dº effects, try to sing Fah in place of it, thus:– |d ; m: fls:—: d'Ita:—:lis — — || t - f (ta : m 1 : s , s : f |S – | – || (ta) m 1 The character of the passage is entirely al- tered. Transition which is effected by changing Soh into Doh we call Transition to the “first sharp key,” or key of the dominant. The next common transition is made by turning Fah into Doh. Again, let us set Doh against Fah, this time on the left hand, and add the other notes, observing the place of difference. Evidently it is at the place of Te, which must be lowered a little to make a new Fah. This new note we call Tam: (written Ta). Sing this example – Transition to the key of the Sub-dominant, Sing the notes dº ta 1 s several times d f : over by themselves, and you feel that t, m they are really, in mental effect, s f I m r. In the same way sing the notes 1, r 1 s s fes in the previous exercise, 1 and you feel them to be r d d tº d. st d It would be truer to mental effect, and to the science of music, if they were written as they really sound. This we can do by means of a “bridge-tone.” We call the note at which the transition is made by two Inames—that of the old and that of the new key. Thus s d f d, etc., the small note indi: cating the old key, and the larger note the new. The two exercises, written in this better method, would appear as follows:— KEY F. KEY C. t. : d m : s |d : m | r .m : f |m : m ºr : dº | d' : t , d' :- || – | | : ti | 11 : si si : lit, d : d df. S: 1 s : s d – — KEY F. f. KEY Bb. E. | d : m : f | s : — d’s | f : — : m | r : — : — || The word “KEY C" over the place of change shows the key which is entered, and the “t’” shows the name of the new sound, not in the old Scale, which is introduced. It is placed on the right hand side to show that the change is in the direction of the dominant or Soh key. In the second example, “KEY B2” gives the Thame of the new key, and “f” at the left hand shows that the change is to the Fah or sub- dominant key. The sign b means “ flat,” and when attached to any note of the standard scale, loners it 2 and : nearly half a step. The sign #, to which we shall presently come, means “sharp,” and raises a note of the stan- dard Scale by nearly half a step. Composers use yet another effect which is derived from the pleasure which the ear takes Chromatics in transition. They introduce a ' Fe or Ta, or some other note which heralds a transition ; and then, instead of making the change of key, they contradict * * their intention and revert to the old key. This effect gives a pleasurable surprise to the ear. If Fe is the new tone in a sharp transi- tion, it is manifest that if Fah, follows it im- mediately the old key is reaffirmed, and Fe blotted out. So when Ta is the new tone, if we pass on to Te we reassert the old key. This treatment is called chromatic, and is thus dis- tinguished from transitional. It is far more rare in music than change of key. The follow- ing are examples:— :— || KEY D. d' : s | 1 : s | fe : f |m - # *mºsºm-º ºmº -ºs-ºsmºs- | l | | =F ######### : s , 1 ; ta t : r" | dº — || KEY C. dº –0– ###### |- Let the student now take a sheet of paper *m. 222 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, —4– and write the scale perpendicularly, with its Semitones indicated by placing An exercise, Me Fah, and Te Doh, close to- gether. Let him add the Soh key on the right side, with its discrepancy at Fah. Let him then add another Soſ, key to that already made, and he will see that however many Soh keys he adds, one after another, exactly the same change takes place. The same is the case with the Fah keys, which may be added side-by- We now give some REY D. —s side on the left hand, each requiring a flat- tening of Te. Sometimes we come upon a transition in which the intermediate keys are Skipped over, and a new key is suddenly en- tered which requires three or four or more new Scale notes. The silent quarter-pulse is indicated, as in the other cases of silence, by a Vacant space. Thirds of a pulse are marked by inverted commas (; ; ). Time, Progressive Time Exercises. Bugle Call, “Hayup, or Litter down.” { .d,d : d .d | .S1 : d ..si |* .m.,m : m ** .d : m a | .S.,S : S * } }* .s : d! .s | .d.,d : d .d | | REY F. Bugle Call, “Defaulters.” {*. .S1 |** : d,Si m s .s,s : s ,s, |* .m. ; d,s, .m. |d | REY G. Bugle Call, “Salute for the Guard.” | “…a | *** : d ...,d | |******** *|| : | KEY F. MAZZINGHI, “Tom Starboard.” {* |* .,f :r ...m. ; d.s, d : r |* .,f :'s ...,m :l, S.fm. | r : ; {* |* * * * : d .si | : ; tı | : m .s,f :m .r | : | REY A. Bugle Call, “Quick Time.” {* |--|- :d :m | – :d |d :— :s, |-- | m : d : m |-- | : | REY E. “Men Of Harlech.” | :- ...,ti | 11 - ...,ti | :r m : 1 |*- | r :- ...,m | :— — | KEY C. J. R. THOMAS, “Lily Bells and Roses.” # * * * S :- .s : 1 .s | :— : dº | : f |* :- .m. ; m f \, t .d] : 1 : : S : 1 .s |a :— : dº }* Before practising each exercise, answer to yourself the following questions, “What is the measure—two, three, four, or six-pulse?” “On what pulse of the measure does the exercises begin, first, second, second half of second 7” etc. Then, by Questions, tapping with a pencil on the table, fix what you consider a natural speed for the exercise, and adhere rigidly to this from first to last. It will be better practice if you TAA-TAI the the Time Exercises, and then sing them on one tone to the syllable “la,” before you use them to the Sol-fa syllables. REY D. S :— 1 :l s : — s : — | 1 :d" | t :l s : — m:— | f :f m:— m:— fe:fe | fe:fe s — :- .t | ! - | PROGRESSIVE TUNE EXERCISES, The following exercises are double chants, arranged in two parts from well-known com- posers. The limits of this work do not allow of a large selection of attractive pieces for the learner; but the educational purpose of these chapters will be best served by these exercises, each of which contains some new point, and each of which should be mastered by the pupil before proceeding to the next. W. WILCOX. s:— | 1 : 1 s : — | 1 :- t : d" | dº :t d!:— m:— | f :f m:— | f : — | r :m | r :r POTA.W.Y. 223 - KEY G. J. ROBINSON. d:— m :l s : — d:— | f :m | r :d ti:— d:— m :I s :— s :- f :r d:ti | d:—|| d:— d :d ti — | d – | 11 d fi :fe, sl:— d:— d :d ti:— tal:— | 11 :f si:s, KEY G. KEY D. t. f. G. m:— | f :m | r :— | r s :— s :d' m ºr d:— sr — d if |m:— m:— m:r d:ti d:— d :- | r : d ti:— | tim:- m im d:ti | d – mti:— d r d – d – | dis, li:s, d:— dying, disarticulates from the branch which produced it, and drops to the ground. Leaves endure for a single Season, or indefi- nitely. When they expand in spring, and fall º º §§§ 2$ºğ2% in autumn, they are said to be #ºsº | “deciduous”; when persistent *. and throughout the winter, the plant “...” VIII. is “evergreen.” The contrast be- THE LEAVES (continued). * the two periods of duration is so familiar that it scarcely needs mentioning. It is to CONSIDERABLE perplexity is often experienced be observed, however, that evergreens of every by beginners in Botany over the difference kind shed their leaves sooner or later. The Leaf-axils between compound leaves and dark needles of the Scotch pine are thrown off ** sprays of simple leaves. And about the same time as those of deciduous truly, in such a case as that of a young shoot trees. Hence the vividly green appearance of of the common Snowberry, Symphoria race- that noble tree towards the close of autumn. mosa, the resemblance to a large pinnate leaf || Through the dropping away of the old and is extremely close. The infallible distinction defunct ones, the younger generations are left is this : In the angle formed by the shooting in exclusive possession; and until the seniors out of a leaf or its petiole from the stem, which among these take their turn to become im- angle is indicated by the name of the “axil,” browned, the green complexion is maintained. there is always a bud. Most of these “axil- || In Britain there are only two large evergreen lary” buds wither away without ever attempt- trees truly wild—the Scotch Pine and the Yew. ing to grow into twigs. Were they all to grow, After these come the Holly and the Box, with the tree or plant would soon be self-choked, which the brief catalogue ends, unless we a disaster which nature effectually guards | count ivy, and the Arbutus at Killarney; every against by imposing this wholesale abortion. other evergreen ever seen in England being Nothing is ever generated except from an exotic. A few shrubs and many perennial axil. Occasionally, no doubt, flowers seem to herbaceous plants are also evergreen. Were it Spring from the “internodes,” or portions of not for the cheerful endurance, through the stem which intervene between the leaves and | coldest winter, of the green leaves which in their axils, as in the Bittersweet-nightshade particular constitute grass, how desolate, as we Solanum Dulcamara ; but this comes of the have said already, would our country appear ! adhesion of the peduncle to the internode. How many grand privileges there are in com- A leaf-axil, either of the current year or of a mon nature, of which we thoughtlessly take no bygone year, is always found to be the ori- | account We thank God for our daily bread. ginal starting-place. The angles formed at Were we honestly thankful at all points, we the junction of the leaflets of a pinnate leaf | should thank Him likewise for the sunshine, with its rachis are also called “axils.” But in and for the sweet permanent green of the these there is never the least sign of a bud; fields, a thing impossible to over-value. the pinnate leaf, moreover, when dead or | Leaves acquire additional beauty, in scores 224 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. of thousands of different plants, from orna- mented peculiarities of the edge. Ornamentation. When quite unbroken, as if ri º:i. trimmed with Scissors, the leaf is *” said to be “entire,” a condition very frequently observable, especially in endo- genous plants. Here, indeed, the “entire” margin is almost universal, as One would ex- pect from the nature of the venation. The first departure is found in the “serrate" leaves, countless alike in herbaceous and arborescent plants; the term applied to them, derived from the Latin serra (a saw), implying that the edge is delicately and acutely toothed. The depth and size of the serrations are very various in different species. Now and then they are microscopically minute, in which case of course they do not constitute an Ornament ; most usually they are as in the rose-leaf, the elm, and the mountain-ash. There are leaves, also, which are “doubly serrate”; and some demand to be distinguished as coarsely serrate, distantly serrate, or imperfectly ser- rate, Nature being never tired of ringing every pos- sible change upon her sim- plest as well as most elabo- rate ideas. Serrated leaves always give to a plant an air of great lightness, very different from that of one in which every line is mathe- matically precise. Serrated leaves move by imperceptible gradation to- wards the class above, des- cribed under the name of “pinnatifid.” Not that the transition is seen, except in special instances, in the same species of plant. But when search is made for interme- diate forms, nothing is easier than to lay out a series which shows plainly enough that, taking plants in the aggregate, there is no posi- tive line of demarcation. A good example of transition in the same species is supplied in the common dandelion. In nearly every leaf, during the spring and Summer, of this despised but very interesting plant, the margins present a succession of great angles, slightly directed towards the base, and so singularly suggestive of the teeth of a lion, that the plant might well receive its name, the English one being only an altered spelling of the French dent-de-lion. But in Sep- tember there is a change. At this Season there is often an energetic new growth of the foliage of many herbaceous plants that live through the winter as evergreens—the teasel, for example, and the Reseda Luteola, as well as the dande- lion—and in none of them is it more remark- able than the last-named. There is no effort to produce flowers, unless an impatient one here and there seeks to anticipate the new year; the burst of new growth is purely in the leaves. Many of these, in the dandelion, are now quite destitute of the accustomed lobes, FIG. 39.-ENTIRE LEAVES. and have, in place of them, very delicate little teeth. The precise time of their perfection is when the corn has all been harvested, when the ripe jet of the blackberry enriches the hedgerow, and the “azured harebell” is begin- ning to feel lonely. They very delightfully Supplement what is popularly, but so ungra- ciously, called the “Botany season,” as if Bo- tany meant nothing but flowers. The Botany season, to the observant, is never really over, since at every time of year there is something special to be learned. To suppose that Botany means flowers and nothing besides, is a pro- found mistake. If the young autumnal leaves of the dandelion are passed by as unworthy of notice, the facts that may be collected in summer are unworthy also. The serrated edge occasionally gives place to the “crenate.” In this the projections, instead of being angular, are rounded, so that the margin of the leaf presents a series of little Semicircles, always remark- ably pretty, and presenting, in the aggregate, a condition Scarcely found anywhere else in nature. Good examples are supplied by the common Betony, and the little wild- flower which goes by the unfortunate, because mis- leading name of “Ground- ivy,” there being no connec- tion whatever with ivy truly so called. Crenate leaves occur more frequently in the Labiatae than in any other family. When the semicircles are much smaller than usual, the leaf is said to be “cre- nulate.” Minutely serrated leaves are similarly called “Serrulate.” Leaves in which the mar- gin is “entire,” are sometimes fringed with silvery hairs, which give them an extremely pleasing character ; though, like - Crenate leaves. all other ornaments, it is quite ºil. possible for the fringe to seem o now and then almost superfluous. No better example of its decorative power can be desired than that which is furnished in spring and early summer by the common beech. The mingled green and roseate of the opening buds, the plaiting, and the inexpressible ten- derness of the fringe, confer a charm upon this glorious tree in the month of May, such as no other native of Europe ever emulates. Leaves thus fringed are said to be “ciliated,” from cilia, the eyelashes. Surface-ornamentation is of many different kinds. Sometimes the cuticle is not only Smooth, like the finger - nails, when it is called “glabrous,” but Ornamentation glossy as well. The perfection of º: glossiness is found, perhaps, in e certain species of Begonia, in which the leaves look as if recently oiled. Old England, how- ever, again presents a capital example in her * BO7.1 WY. 225 native holly. The rich and vigorous sheen of this inestimable shrub is not surpassed by any rare and costly exotic ; the lustre of the foliage renders more telling, at the same time, the beauty of the scarlet bracelets worn at Christ- mas by the upper branchlets. Contrari- wise, or in opposition to the glabrous and glossy surface, in many leaves the cuticle is so densely covered with vegetable silk, wool, or fur, as to be completely concealed. In many Gnaphaliums, and in the wild English mul- sº lein (Verbascum Thap- sº \\ \ N i. *% 2% \!. º §§ º SNY; §§ | R §§ §§ sus), the fleecy vesture º is possessed also by the is §º stem and branches, and S §º: ; #s ſº Fºº-º-º: s:=EEE Sº \\{ /šš º, º . §§§ §§ºf º Ésjº º . *Š so thorough is the over- laying that the entire plant, everything ex- cept the flowers, seems made of flannel. In the silver-tree of the Cape of Good Hope (Leuca- dendron argenteum), every leaf seems made of white silk, not the slightest indication of *: * green being percepti- | ble even in the very youngest leaves. More usually this beautiful clothing is confined to the under-surface of the leaves in which it occurs; and of this there is not a lovelier example in nature than is sup- plied, once , again, in its * limitless fer- tility in all that is sweet, by old Eng- land. Every- where upon the mountains in the Lake district, min- gled with the turf, grows an unassuming little plant, three to six in c he s in stature, called the Alpine lady's mantle (Alch e mill a alpina). The leaves are five- to seven-lobed, like those of the common green lady's mantle of the lowlands, but much more deeply, so as to be almost palmate, and every one of them is lined with satin so white and shining that the Leucadendron itself does no more, in VOR, I, :IG. 40,—DEEPLY SERRATE LEAVES. y ‘; º FIG. 41.-ACACIAS WITH PHYLLODIA. comparison, than hold its own. “Lady's mantle” was bestowed upon these pretty plants in the Middle Ages, when, in imitation of the ancient practice of dedicating certain flowers and plants to the gods and The name of goddesses, the fairest of those so dealt with being given to Venus, many were consecrated to the Virgin Mary. The idea was, at all events, al- lowed to operate in re- gard to popular nomen- clature ; and hence, to this day we have Lady’s tresses, Lady’s slipper, Lady’s mantle. Some- times these names, and the others of similar fabric, are written “la- dies’,” which of course is quite wrong. In every instance the primary association was with “Our Lady,” as in the name of the Madonna lily. Here it may be as well to remark that certain names partly composed of “mary” are often mistakenly thought to be of cor- responding origin. Rosemary, for instance, has nothing to de with the Virgin, being an abbreviation of ros marinus—literally “sea: dew”—a very elegantly figurative or poetical name for this sea-side-loving shrub ; while marigold or Imarygoldisin- trinsically the “marsh gol- den flower,” that O Il 62 which to-day is called scien- tifically Cal- tha palustris, the extension to the Calen- dula of the name “mari- gold” being comparatively modern. Most. beautiful is the resem- blance of the Alchemikla. leaf to an old- f a s h i on e d mantle. While young, it is folded up like a fan. In the very charming genus of shrubs called Elaeagnus, in their British relative the Hippo- phaë, and in the North American Shepherdia, the leaves are densely covered, sometimes on. 15 226 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. both surfaces alike, with flat and starlike silvery scales, the similitude, to the Inaked sº * eye, being that of an incrusta- StarS, tion produced by chemical means. The microscope soon discloses their actual nature, as it does that also of the brilliantly- Coloured spangles upon the under surface of the leaves of several of the Himalayan Rhodo- dendrons. These, however, are more or less isolated; and the same is the case with the inconceivably beautiful stars upon the leaves of the Japanese Deutzia scabra, very common, like all the preceding, in gardens, and in which the resemblance to the starfishes found stranded upon the shore is exact and perfect. Stellate hairs of larger size, and not so symmetrical, are found upon the leaves of many species of Cruciferae and in the Lasiopetalum and other members of the Byttneriaceae. Analogous orna- ments, constituted, as it were, of heaps of fairyland pearls, stud the leaves, not uncom- monly, in plants of the family named after the Borage. The most exquisite of these are found perhaps in the Echium asperrimum. In the greater portion of the natural order which contains the aromatic herbs, mint, sage, Oil-glands thyme, marjoram, etc., the under surface of the leaf is apt to be thickly strewn with minute spherical bags of coloured oil, which, when magnified, present an appearance truly brilliant. Similar globes are often scattered upon the calyx, lying in its deep longitudinal furrows, as may be very easily seen in the common culinary Sage, where in colour and shine they resemble drops of liquid gold. Emerald is a frequent colour; now and then the hue is a sumptuous claret- purple, the sheen unimaginable until beheld, as in the classical dittany, in which the beauty is enhanced by the spheres being embosomed in wool. The leaves of the sweet-gale, of the sweet mountain-fern (Lastraa Oreopteris), and of many other plants, exude oil-drops of the same general character, and which, being protected by a delicate skin, constitute real vegetable jewels. Šºšš VII. THE THIRD DECLENSION. THE nominative endings of the third declen- sion, you must observe, are various, and of various genders, but the genitive case singular always ends in #3. Nouns ending in 0, 0s, or, and er in the nominative are generally mascu- line ; those ending in is, as, aus, a, are generally feminine, and those ending in ar, ur, ats, al, é, c, l, n, t, are generally newter. I will now proceed to furnish you with examples of the different types of this declension, according to gender. - Masculine nouns of the third declension:— A. erröribus : Singular. lapis a Stone lapis O stone . lapidem a stone lapidis of a stone lapidi to a stone lapide with a stone Plural. lapides stones lapides O stones lapides Stones lapidum of Stones lapidibus to Stones lapidibus with stones Singular. ëTTOT a mistake error O mistake errörem a mistake erröris of a mistake erröri to a mistake erröre by a mistake Plural. erröres mistakes ... erröres O mistakes ... erröTes mistakes ... errorum of mistakes ... erröribus to mistakes by mistakes Feminine nouns of the third declension :- N. Singular. W. 5vis a sheep, or O sheep A. Övem a sheep G. Övis of a sheep D. Švi to a sheep A. Övö by a sheep Plural. W. §ves sheep, or O sheep A. Övés or övis sheep G. Övium of sheep D. Övibus to sheep A. Övibus by sheep Singular. W. nubés a cloud, or O cloud A. nubem a cloud G. nubis of a cloud D. nubi to a cloud A. nube by a cloud Plural. W. nubes clouds, or O clouds A. nubés or nubis clouds G. mubium of clouds D. nubibus to clouds A. mubíbus by clouds Singular. V. virgo a virgin, or O virgin A. virginem a virgin G. virginis of a virgin D. virgini to a virgin A. virgine by a virgin ASTRONOMY. 227 Plural. Plural. N. W. virgines virgins, or O virgins N. bāves OXerl A. virgines virgins V. bāves O oxen G. virginum of virgins A. bāves OXen. D. virginibus to virgins G. bāum of oxen A. virginibus by virgins D. . & . to Oxen A. bābus & biibus by oxen Neuter nouns of the third declension :- Singular y N. nºt *. . N. vis strength # j º X i. º ſº - . VIIIl SUTell A. maré the sea G. vis of strength G. maris of the sea D. Vi to strength D. märi to the sea A. vi by strength A. mari on the sea Plural * e Plural. N. vires wº strength § maria º Se2S V. vires O strength maria h SeaS A. vires strength § ºn tº ; : : & . WITIOUIS O St.Ten. D. máribus to the seas A. viribús by strength A. maribus on the seas * Singular. In the singular vis is used in a bad sense—of N. animal an animal brute strength ; in the plural of courage. V. animal O animal Observe (2) that aer, gen, aeris (air), makes A. animal an animal accusative singular in aera and aerem, ; and G. animălis of an animal ather (sky) in athera and aetherem. D. animăli . to an animal Observe (3) that all rivers ending in is, as A. animăli (or animale) by an animal Tibris, the Tiber, make the accusative singular in im, not em, as Tibrim ; and that the follow- , ... Plural. . ing nouns make im, in the accusative and i in N. animália animals the ablative case : tigris, a tiger; sitis, thirst ; X. .. º tussis, a cough ; and securis, an axe. G. animalium of animals D. animălibus to animals A. animălibus by animals § 35ES Singular. AS& Rºsº º º N. nomen 2, Ila OOC ASTRONO W. nomen O name Sº sº vº v - A. nomen 3, Ila, Iſle G. nominis of a name - D. nomini to a name VIII. A. nomine by a name EARLY in 1620, Zucchi, an Italian Jesuit, was 5 © JPlural. in possession of a more powerful telescope than N. nomina ICl2][YleS that employed by Galileo, and on May 17th, V. nomina O names 1620, he examined Jupiter, and A. nomina Ila,DOleS dimly saw two greyish bands or ; of G. nominum of names belts stretching across Jupiter, plter. D. nominibus to names which hitherto had been supposed to be a A. nominibus Oy names. uniform dull yellow disc. Three years later, (Observe, the neuter nouns of the third de- clension ending in e, al, and ar make the abla- tive singular in i, and the nominative, vocative, and accusative cases plural in ia, and the genitive plural in ium, as above—except baccar, a berry, far, bread-corn, jubar, a sunbeam, zvectar, a divine drink, and par, an equal, which end in e in the ablative singular.) Observe (1) Bos, an ox (masculine), and vis, force (feminine), are thus declined :– Singular. N. bos all OX W. bos O Ox A. bāvem 2.Il OX G. bövis of an ox D. bāvi to an ox A. bāve by an ox Fontana, a Neapolitan astronomer, saw three such belts. Grimaldi, an Italian philosopher, in 1648 devoted much time to watching Jupiter, and he discovered that these belts were nearly parallel to the plane of the orbit of the planet. He also saw some dim dusky spots on Jupiter. Later the belts and spots were frequently seen, and found to be variable in their position and number. Hooke, a celebrated astronomer, even suspected that Jupiter must revolve on an axis to account for the changes he saw. When Galileo examined the planet Saturn with his most powerful telescope, he was amazed to find that it was entirely unlike e any of the others, and appeared Telescºpiº to be not one but three bodies. *PPº” e of Saturn, It seemed to consist of a large central body, about half the size of Jupiter, 228 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. with two smaller bodies on each side of it, so that it appeared as shown in fig. 27. Later on in the year he was surprised to find that the lesser bodies had become decidedly Smaller than in the early part of the year. In 1611 his observations showed him that the two lesser bodies were very much smaller, and they con- tinued to grow smaller and Smaller, until, to his great dismay, they entirely vanished in 1612. Galileo felt much alarmed as well as amazed, for he thought this extraordinary * , phenomenon would cast much discredit on his other observa- tions, as it seemed impossible that so unaccountable a thing could be other than an illusion. Later on these secondary bodies re-appeared, which showed that Galileo's observations were quite trustworthy, and the appearance of this extra- ordinary planet was repeatedly examined by astronomers. As soon as more powerful and perfect telescopes were constructed, some further information was obtained, which only seemed to render the phenomenon more mys- terious. Gassendi, a French astro- Extraordinary nomer, devoted much time to variations in drawing Saturn. He saw the * planet at times as in fig. 27, but at *** other times the lesser bodies grew so large that they seemed to join the central body, and the whole || to look like an ellipse, in which he seemed to see two very dusky crescent-shaped markings, as shown on fig. 28. Later on the planet appeared , as if it had two handles to it; and these handles, or ansa, which were small when first seen, grew gradually larger, until they were like fig. 29, and then became smaller until they disappeared. In every fifteen years the whole appendages disappeared, and Saturn seemed a round planet like Jupiter. For nearly half a century these extraordinary variations in the shape of the planet perplexed astronomers, and many were the ingenious but fanciful explanations which were advanced to account for these changes. In 1656 Huygens, the famous Dutch astronomer, published a Small pamphlet, in ºn * - * * te Their º which he gave, #. under the form of ** an enigma, the true explanation of the phenomenon, and in 1659 he explicitly an- nounced his discovery in a work entitled “Systema Saturnium.” According to this explanation, the planet is surrounded by a thin flat ring, sepa- rated from the body of the planet by a small interval, and inclined to the ecliptic, as shown in fig. 30. As the ring is very thin, when the edge is turned towards the earth the ring becomes invisible, and the planet appears quite round, like Jupiter; and it will also be invisible when the dark side of the ring is turned towards the earth, as will sometimes happen for a short period. The same ex- planation also accounts for the changes in FIG. 27. FIG. 28. FIG. 29. the appearance of the ring, which is always seen foreshortened into an ellipse ; but the amount of foreshortening being variable, at times the ellipse will look broad and at other times very narrow. On March 25th, 1655, Huygens was observing Saturn with his 12-feet telescope, of his own manufacture, and having, as already mentioned, an aperture of 3 inches, and provided with a power of 48, when he saw a small star on the west of the planet, and in the Same plane as the ring, and another On the east, but not in the same plane. For Some reason Huygens was led to suspect that this star might be a satellite, so on the next. day he again examined Saturn. He was rejoiced to see that it was still in nearly the same position, though Saturn had moved some distance to the west, and the Star which had been seen to the east was now much farther off. As the western star had evidently moved with the planet, it was obvious that it must be connected: with it and be a satellite. Further observation, showed him that this was cor- S } rect, and that the satellite re. **** volved round Saturn in rather less than 16 days—namely 15 d. 23 h. 13 m. Saturn, then, had a moon as well as the earth. It was more- over unique in possessing a ring. The earlier observers were un- able to make out much on the planet Mars. Galileo merely saw a red disc of very variable size: ... when the planet was n opposition. is or nearest the earth, and the earth. between the sun and planet, it appeared two-thirds the size of Jupiter ; but when farthest from the earth and near the sun, which then lies between the planet and earth, the planet looked only like a rather large red star. Subsequent observers saw little more, though in 1636 Fon- tama, the Neapolitan astronomer, observed a grey spot on the planet which seemed to change position, so that he was led to suspect that the planet rotated on its axis. Nor could the early observers make much out of the planets Mercury and Venus; they confirmed the dis- covery made by Galileo, that these planets had phases like the moon, and were variable in size as their distance from the earth varied, but they saw little if any- T thing more. When Galileo turned his tele- Scope upon the moon, he was delighted to find. it to be a body having much resemblance to the earth. He found its surface to Appearance of Mars, be divided into dark grey level Telescopiº f Tegions not unlike lunar seas and * O Oceans, separated from each other by brighter elevated tracts having all the ap- pearance of being continents. He traced straits and broad arms uniting the different seas, he found them bordered in places by rugged and frowning cliffs, and in others by gradually ASTRONOMY. 229 shelving beaches ; he saw bays indenting the continents and capes penetrating the seas. There the Seaseemed broken by an island, here the land seemed to enclose a level lake. In one spot he Saw lofty mountains towering thousands of feet above the plains, and in another place the surface was broken by numerous valleys; here rough and precipitous, there gentle and smiling. Everything pointed to the moon as the com- panion to the earth, another world. More closely studied. the moon seemed to be a region of extinct volcanoes ; on all parts of , the surface were seen immense craters, and radiating from these craters appeared long streaks of a bright grey colour as if they were old lava streaks. These lunar volcanoes were evidently extinct, for in places they were ruined, and no trace of an eruption could be detected. Scheiner, Gassendi, and Langrenus, a Spanish astronomer, devoted care and at- tention to studying the surface of the moon, and drew its appearance as seen under different illuminations: for it was soon found that the moon altered very much in appearance as the illumination varied. Those parts of the moon which were near the border which Separated the illuminated from the unillumi- nated portion of the moon were seen to cast long shadows, and the mountains stood up in bold relief; whilst the regions near the centre of the bright portion of the moon appeared with- out shadows, and looked like white and grey markings on a yellowish ground. Hevelius, a citizen of Dantzic, and one of the most fa- = Ymous obser- vers of the seventeenth century, care- fully exa- mined the Surface of the moon with a teles co pe magnifying forty times. After four years’ study He employed his observa- tions for the purpose of constructing a complete map of the moon. For the sake of reference he named Some of the principal spots, giving them a name after some fancied Tesemblance to a region on the earth. Thus a great chain of mountains he called the Alps, another the Apennines, etc. This map was published in 1647. Four years later Riccioli Lunar maps of Bologna, an Italian Jesuit, published another map, founded partly on his own observations and partly on the observa- tions of Gassendi. He entirely rejected the nomenclature of Hevelius, and named the FIG. 30. FIG. 31.-TELESCoRIo APPEARANCE OF MARS. principal spots after distinguished astronomers and mathematicians. His principle of nomen- clature has been retained to the present day. These astronomers pointed out that the great grey plains seen on the moon were very pro- bably the beds of seas, but were not seas, for they were not filled with water. In this respect there- fore the earth and moon differed, for the latter had no seas. That there was water on the moon they thought probable, and One of them pointed to some smooth very dark mountain rings which he thought were lakes. They also showed that the moon had not a dense atmosphere like ours, and that clouds seldom, if ever, obscured the surface, — so that it could not rain. Nor were there forests of green trees; yet, as One philosopher remarked, the lunar trees might have grey leaves, and both Hevelius and Riccioli noticed regu- lar variations in the great grey spots or regions which existed on the moon. The conclusion was obvious that, though the moon and earth had many analogous features, yet the one was not a mere copy of the other. One important result of these observations remains to be noticed: they discovered, by comparing the drawings of the moon made by Galileo, Scheiner, and Langrenus with their own, that the moon always turns the same face to the earth, so that we only see One-half of the entire moon, the farther hemisphere being invisible from its being always turned away from the earth. This was a great disappoint- ment, and O p e n e d a wide field for speculation. What does the other side of the moon. Seas and mountains. : look like? Some urged that it was most likely just the same as the side we See, but others would not listen to such a suggestion. They drew wondrous pictures of lakes and seas, of luxuriant forests, of gorgeous flowers, winding rivers, and Smiling valleys. They crowded it with various species of animals, peopled it with inhabitants, built grand cities of marble and gold, covered its seas with boats and stately ships. This, they cried, must be the nature of the other side of the moon—that side which we, unfortunate mortals, shall never See. t At this time, and in fact until the beginning of the nineteenth century, most astronomers believed the moon to be inhabited. Some more 23ó THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. t enthusiastic than the rest proposed that great * fires should be made by which Inhabitants of signals could be sent to the lunar the moon inhabitants. One suggested that the great desert of Sahara was made for the express purpose of sending such signals, and demanded that a message should be WTitten on it with letters of black sand several miles long and a mile broad. Another suggested that the forty-seventh proposition of the First Book of Euclid should be constructed on a very large scale on some level region, as he felt positive that the lunar philosophers must have had to solve that problem by this time, and would recognise it. Many other fanciful ideas and plans were suggested. We shall see how the progress of Science has modified these ideas. & E-g Ex- 9. --- wº gº - . . . ; ºr: ;: #| |&# º R. isº) RAMM §3; %3 §§º ºff=== =º sº ºšſº ºf: -fºs -×2 rº #minºriº’. § 54. Preponderance of English in usage. § 55. Table of foreign elements in English. § 56. Latin, direct and indirect. § 54. (b). As regards the vocabulary, the Bnglish preponderates even here in actual usage, though it may not in the list-numbering of words. If we take a good modern dictionary the words are said to be about 100,000, of which two-thirds are calculated to be of classic origin: this will include Latin, French, and Greek of all periods. A dictionary, however, is a list of single words; and of course this com- putation takes no account of the repetition of small and monosyllabic words which the living speech or written language requires. Mr. Marsh has made some careful calculations which bring out curious results. He says: “There are persons who know this vocabulary Iof 100,000 words] in nearly its whole extent, but they understand a large proportion of it much as they are acquainted with Greek or Latin —that is, as the dialect of books, or of special arts or professions, and not as a living speech, the common language of daily and hourly thought.” In our ordinary conversation we do not employ more than three or four thou- sand words,” our best writers nine or ten. thousand; in the poems of the learned Milton. not more than eight thousand are to be found ; in the pages of Shakespere about fifteen thou- sand. But when we come to examine the words. that are thus used, we test the native power and gauge its worth. The following table shows. the difference in proportion between the total vocabularies—i.e., the stock of words found in counting through the whole of the Bible and of the written works of two authors—and the actual use of those words, counting repetitions. The figures show the percentage of English, (Anglo-Saxon) words.f Total Vocabularies. English Bible ... 60 per cent. Shakespere 60 per cent. Milton 33 per cent. Actual usage. per cent. John's Gospel, chaps. i., iv., xvii. . . 96 Matthew, chaps. vii., xvii., xviii. 93 Luke, chaps. v., xii., xxiii. . 92 Romans, chapS. ii., vii., xi., XV. . 90 Henry IV., pt. i., Act ii. . e 9] Othello, Act V. . . . . . . . 89 Tempest, Act i. . (e. 88 L'Allegro . . . 90 Il Penseroso . . . . . 83 Paradise Lost, Book wi. . 80 So that though in his list of words a large share are of Romance family, each writer really uses the English words at his command by far the most frequently, unconsciously proving the native character of his language. § 55. The following table will, it is hoped, assist the student by showing, grouped to- gether, (1) what languages are the sources of modern English ; (2) the periods of time when they affected it ; and (3) a few words from each class by way of specimen. In the case of the Eastern languages, and of the “first ages " of the Keltic and the Latin, few more than those here given are found. TABLE OF THE FOREIGN ELEMENTS IN ENGLISH. LANGUAGES. WHEN AND How cAME INTo ENGLISH. SPECIMIENS. 1. KELTIC of the first age... (See § 33.) 39 ,, 8econd age Remains of the early inhabitants; found in writers of ninth to twelfth centuries; and geographical names. More frequent words, in writers of thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Through the Norman-French, from IBarrow, brock, breeches, clout, crock, kiln, cradle, mattock, pool. Boast, boisterous, bribe, Crag, dainty, darn, daub, glen, havoc, pillow, etC. Bag, bargain, barter, basin, basket, bonnet, button, car, cart, Initten,. pot, rogue, varlet, vassal, etc. Bard, bog, brogue, clan, claymore, clog, log, kilt, pibroch, plaid, ponyo, shamrock, slab, whiskey, etc. Max Müller quotes an instance of SOmē. third age . 3 92 the old Gauls. fourth age 95 32 things. Modern introductions, names of Keltic * The uneducated naturally employ a much less number. country labourers who had not more than 300 words in their vocabulary. # I take these figures from Marsh, Lecture VI. (ed. 1865). ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 231 LANGUAGES. WHEN AND HOW came INTO ENGLISH. SPECIMIENS. ſº SCANDINAVIAN " ... ... i 3. DUTCH. ... ... ... ... \4. GERMAN ... ... ... 5. GREEK * * * * * g ee e 29 ,, 8econd age . r LATIN of the first age ... ,, third age ... s 99 ,, fourth age. i * 7. FRENOH of the first age . 99 , secondage 8. SPANISH ... ... ... 9. ITALIAN ... ... ... V10. PoETUGUESE ... ... ... § ſil. Hispu ... ... ... ... § ! $ |s i 12. PERSIAN ... ... ... ... | il § \18, HEBRRw ... ... ... ... S Found in Northern writers of tenth and eleventh centuries. Again in Writers of thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Also in (a) names of places, and (b) provincial dialects in the north of England. A few words in modern times ..., A few, both directly and indirectly, through Romance tongues: Many directly, owing to the cultivation of science and literature. Came in with the Romans Came in with the conversion of the English to Christianity by St. Au- gustine. (Bede (born 673) says of England in his day: “The Latin tongue is, by the study of the Scrip- tures, become common to all the nations in the island.”) Brought in by the Norman Conquest. Chiefly indurect Latin, having passed through French. Also Some direct, owing to the Church and literature. Introduced through the Revival of Learning at beginning of sixteenth Century, and continued. Direct from the classic Latin. Norman-French, principally a deve- lopment of a Latin dialect, therefore the same as induſect Latin of the third age. Modern French, --troduced during the reign of Charles II., and several times since. Came in during the sixteenth and Seventeenth centuries. Came in during a longer part of the Same centuries. Aren (are), by (a town), fel (a hill), tll (to), thorpe. Blunt, bole, busk, cake, call, cast, Curl, cat, due, daze, fellow, flat, ill, kid, kindle, odd, root, same, ugly, et C. Grimsby, Kirkthorpe, Holmfirth, and places ending in fell, beck, shaw, garth. Boom, hoy, Schooner, boor, cruise, loiter, ravel, stlver, yacht, etc. Landgrave, loafer, waltz, cobalt, Imckel, ZInc, quartz, felspar, etc. Frensy, paralysis, presbyter, phan- tom, Story; palsy, paradise, priest. Grammar, analysis, geology, dia- gram, telegram, microphone, etc. Chester, coln, port, straet. (See § 33.) Ancor (hermit), biscop (bishop), clerc, munec (monk), mynster (munster), reost (priest), regol (rule), butor. butter), cèse (cheese), cedar, lac- tuce (lettuce), lilie (lily), phpor. (pepper), camel, pard, ostre (Oyster), leo (lion), turtle, pund (pound), candle, etc. Calice, cuntesse, mayster, mercio, mesure, poverte, dragon, damesele, , abbey, grace, hermit, table, etc. Miracles, processiume, religium, tem= - ple, date, firmament, etc. (See comparison of Latin words at end of this Table.) Also many endings and beginnings of Words—such as -ance, -age, -ment, -ry, -let, -ess, -able, in hundrance, bondage, , endearment, knavery, rivulet, princess, eatable; em-, das-, re-, ºn embolden, dis-sight, re-write, €UC. Chagrin, *. repartee. Débùt, depôt, Élite, programme, soirée, précis, etiquette, omelette, etc. Armada, barricade, grenade, tornado, corridor, vanilla, maroon, gala, etc. Balcony, bravo, broccoli, burlesque, cadence, charlatan, folio, gazette, , madrigal, ruffian, umbuclla, etc. Caste, fetichism, porcelain, commo-, - dore, otc. Calico, Chintz, dimity, boot, muslin, nabob, rice, rupee, I um, Sugar, toddy, etc. Caravan, chess, dervish, emerald, lac, lilac, Orange, shawl, turball, taffety, etc. Abbot, amen, cabal, cherub, scraph, jubilee, sabbath, etc. * These words are difficult to trace, in consequence of the close affinity of Danish and English. Many of them have taken an English form, and can no longer be distinguished. Many others formerly common have gone out of use, 232 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. LANGUAGES. WHEN AND How CAME INTO ENGLISH. SPECIMENS. 14. ARABIC Many of these words brought in Alchemy, alkali, alcohol, almanac, through Romance tongues. arsenal, assassin, bazaar, che mistry, cotton, cipher, gazelle Syrup, sofa. 15. TURKISH .. < . MALAY, POLYNESIA AND JAVA. 17. CIIINESE .. l 6 \18, AMERICAN INDIANS Caftan, Chouse, bosh, divan, scimitar. (Run) amuck, bamboo, bantam, sago. Verandah, tattoo, gingham. Caddy, nankeen, tea, satin, etc. Canoe, Cocoa, hammock, potato, Skunk, Squaw, tobacco, etc. § 56. It is interesting to note how the double adoption of many Latin words, first from the French, and again immediately from the foun- tain-head, has given us two separate shapes, each appropriating its own shade of meaning. The French moulded and fashioned its word, “clipping, it may be, by a syllable or more, for the French devours letters and syllables.” Here are a few examples of the three stamps under which this mental coinage has passed — Comparison of Latin Words. From Latin through Adopted directly Tatin. Norman-French. from Latin. legalem loyal legal balsamum balm balsam rationem Te2SOOl ration Orationem orison oration fragilem frail fragile Tegalem royal regal pauperum poor pauper tractum treat, trait tract aestimare aim eSteem hospitalem hôtel hospital THE BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN EMPIRES (continued). ASSYRIAN and Babylonian history emerges into clearer light about the middle of the tenth cen- tury B.C. We find records of an Assyrian king, ASSur-dan II., about 940 B.C. He appears to have reigned more than thirty years, to have rebuilt many cities and temples, and to have added to the strength and prosperity of the country. He was succeeded by his son, Vulnirari II., in 913 B.C., and from that date we have tolerably consecutive records. In the meanwhile, shadows of Babylonian kings flit across the scene, but we are unable g to obtain more than glimpses of *ylonia, the events which occurred in their reigns. There appear to have been contests for Supremacy, and names are given, but with very uncertain chronology. We find some trace of a king named Simmas-sipak, who Teigned for seventeen years, and of successors who are described as belonging to “the region of the sea,” and were possibly only petty kings; then of “Ulbar-Surki-idina, son of Bazi,” and of his two brothers; and then came an Elamite dynasty, lasting six years, and overthrown by a revolution ; beyond which is another period of obscurity, with mention only of a few kings in connection with wars with Assyria. While the Assyrian empire which Tiglath Pileser had made so powerful was declining, and the Babylonian empire was weakened and suffering from internal dissen- The kingd signs and dynastic claims, a new *.*.* kingdom, destined to rival, and even surpass them in grandeur, influence, and wealth, if not in extent of territory, was esta- blished to the south-west of the limits of the Chaldean states. Saul had been chosen king of Israel, and his successor, David, a warrior, poet, musician, and statesman of the first rank, raised his kingdom from comparative political insig- nificance to a high place among the nations of the earth. Apart from his importance in religious history, David may be regarded as One of the most remarkable of monarchs. He reigned for forty years, 1058–1018 B.C. Under his rule, and that of his son, the magnificent Solomon, a man possessed of splendid intel- lectual gifts and great mental and bodily energy, the Philistines, Edomites, Amalokites, Moabites, and other of the aboriginal people of Canaan and its borders, were subdued. Jeru- Salem, the capital of the kingdom of Israel, was made one of the most splendid cities in the world; the boundaries of the state were ex- tended from the Euphrates (by the conquest of Zobah by David) on the east, to the head of the Red Sea on the west ; and merchants traded with, and brought immense wealth from Phoenicia, Arabia, Egypt, India, and Ceylon, and not improbably, could we with certainty identify the localities mentioned, from the islands of the Indian Archipelago, so rich in Spices and other valuable products. Solomon died 978 B.C., and three years afterwards the great kingdom was divided into two Comparatively weak, jealous, and conten- tious monarchies ; and soon afterwards Assyria resumed its old position of power and supre- macy in Western Asia. Wul-nirari II., men- tioned above as succeeding to the throne in 913 B.C., was an able and energetic but fero- cious and unscrupulous king and warrior, who ANCIENT HISTORY. 233 extended the limits of the empire and revived its military power. He reigned twenty-two years, and was succeeded by his Son, Tugulti- ninip II., also a successful warrior, who reigned only six years, and was followed on the throne by his son, Assur-nazir-pal (or ASSuTu-natsir- abla, as some Assyriologists read it), one of the ablest, and certainly one of the most ferocious of the Assyrian monarchs, and who may be regarded as the founder of the later Assyrian empire. In the mound of Balawat, nine miles north- east of the mound of Nimroud, on the banks - - of the Tigris, Mr. Hormuzd Discoveries at Rassam has discovered some most | ance and variety of illustration, render them as valuable to the student of Assyrian history as would be the discovery of a long-lost history by Some Chaldean Thucydides or Macaulay of the old world, describing the career of conquering monarchs whose very names had been almost unknown previously. There is remarkable freedom in the attitudes of the figures, and altogether more artistic power than in the larger specimens of Assyrian art. One of the figures represents a captive impaled on a stake, —a significant record of the barbaric manner in which the wars were carried on. Aided by these bronze memorials, and the inscriptions and monuments previously dis- * valuable inscriptions referring to covered by Mr. George Smith, and deciphered this period. by him and He penetrated the Rev. Mr. into the re- Sayce,—espe- mains of a cially an obe- build i ng lisk of black which proved marble, now to be a temple, in the British within which Museum,_we was an altar, Eº are enabled to approached by ===# t T a c e the four steps, and === :º career of these surrounded ==; bº R two great by a paved §: monarchs of Square. 5. ſº - ASSyria. the altar he i. º Immediately found a large ** º, sº * after Assur- Stone chest, in which were three in - scribed tab- lets recording the name, titles, and genealogy of Assur - nazir- pal,and a brief summary of the bound- aries of his empire. These tablets are the foundation- stones, or re- cords of the temple, which was de di- cated by the monarch to Adar the war- god, and Istar the goddess of war. In another part of the temple were discovered a most interesting Series of bronze tablets, which had been nailed on mas- sive frames of wood, forming two pairs of brazen gates, with a superfice of about three hundred square feet, and evidently intended as an official record to be read by the subjects of the great king. On these bronze tablets, forming continuous slips about four inches wide, are sculptures representing the history of the achievements in peace and war of Assur-nazir- pal, and more especially of his successor, Shal- maneser II. The clearness with which the history is related by these sculptures, the abund- DAVID's TOWER AT JRRUSALEM. Inazir-pal had ascended the th T One, he took vigorous action against a number of petty tribes Occupying the mountainous district on the north of his dominions. He destroyed their cities and exacted tribute; and following up his career of conquest, at- tacked and c a p tu red towns on the Upper Tigris. Large districts were desolated, the inhabitants flying to the mountains. Some were captured and subjected to horrible tortures, and one leader, Buba, was taken to the Assyrian town, Arbela, and flayed alive. The subjugation of the towns Nipur and Pizatu, on the east of the Upper Tigris, and of Kammuka, on the opposite side of the river, speedily followed; a revolt in the city of Suru, by the river Khabour, was quelled, and a gover- nor who had been set up by the insurgents also suffered the punishment of flaying. Appalled by the energetic ferocity of the Assyrian poten- tate, petty kings and chiefs hastened to Submit and pay tribute. 234 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, An Assyrian colony, founded four hundred years previously by Shalmaneser I., that of Halzilaha, beyond the head water of the Tigris, revolted, and an armed force threatened to attack Damdamusa, an Assyrian town. Assur- nazir-pal immediately undertook an expedition against Hulai, the leader of the insurgents. Carved on a rock near the source of the great Tiver, Assur found inscriptions cut by an ear- lier Assyrian monarch ; and to these he added a Sculpture representing himself, and then marched against the rebels. He stormed and took Kinapu, a fortress held by them, mas- Sacred the garrison of six hundred men, and inflicted the horrible torture of flaying on Hulai, the leader. Other cities were destroyed, and in One of them, Tula, the ferocious con- queror outdid himself in barbarity. Like a tiger, which has once tasted human blood, he appeared unable to control his cruelty. The prisoners taken were horribly mutilated, their hands and feet, noses and ears, being cut Off, and their eyes put out. Two huge mounds, One composed of human heads, the other of limbs, were built up outside the city, and on them were burnt the children of tender age. Other districts near the head-waters of the Tigris and Euphrates were ravaged, towns destroyed, and the wretched inhabitants sub- jected to horrible tortures. Having by his terrible and unsparing energy subdued his opponents on the north-eastern border of his empire, Assur has- tened to the south-east, where Zab-Vul, the chief of Dagara, had Overrun an extensive district, and erected a strong fortress as a base of operation. Zab-vul Tisked a battle in the open field, was defeated with great loss, and about a hundred small towns and villages fell a prey to the conquering Assur, who, after a brief interval, started on an expedition, determined to destroy his opponents. City after city fell before him ; the inhabitants fled over the mountains of Nizir, where, accord- ing to the Chaldean tradition, the ark had rested, and were followed by the indomitable and merciless Assur. Seven cities were cap- tured, many of the fugitives slain, and then the conqueror returned to his camp, only, however, to prepare for a new exploit, carrying the war into territories which as yet no Assyrian had explored. Larbusa, the chief town of a chief named Kirtiari, and eight other towns, were captured ; and the victorious host advanced over mountains which, say the inscriptions, “pierced the heavens like swords,” conquering and slaying till, like other great warriors, he “made a wilderness and called it peace.” A year afterwards (881 B.C.) Assur crossed the Lower Zab, receiving tribute on his way, and subduing several petty chiefs, and reached the borders of Baby- lonia. We read of the capture of a hundred and fifty towns, and the submission of many leaders. Conquest, massacre, and the payment of tribute are the incidents of another year's history. The names recorded of towns and chiefs convey little information to us; but the number mentioned shows the extent of the conquests achieved. Sixty towns belonging to Southern expedition, Sieges and Iſlats.Sº.CI'6S, a leader named Labturi were, we are told, taken. Swift and sudden marches, by which the king swooped down on towns and fortresses, taking the inhabitants by Surprise, appear to have been the tactics adopted. We find records of Assur riding all night over lofty mountains to attack fortresses before the garrisons could have notice of his approach; and of a sudden crossing of the Tigris and a night ride to the city of Pitru, a strong fortress of Diria, built on a lofty hill and surrounded by two massive walls. Appalled, perhaps, by the appearance of the ruthless and invariably successful ASSur, whose fame as a conqueror was now spread over south-western Asia, a feeble resistance was apparently offered. The Assyrians stormed the city, burnt the houses, massacred the in- habitants, and impaled seven hundred of the garrison on the walls. Other cities fell into the hands of the con- queror, and similar cruelties were perpetrated. The important city of Arbaki, and two hundred and fifty smaller towns surrendered. Sinapu, a large town, which had been taken from the Assyrians by the Syrians, was recovered, and then Assur made a display of his ferocity, possibly as a warning, by publicly exhibiting On the wall the skin which had been torn from the living body of Burramana, who had headed a revolt, against a powerful subject, a kind of lieutenant-governor appointed by ASSur. §§§ § ºrđONS: º º §: zºº º §§ VIII. THE NOUN (continued).-APPLICATION. EXERCISE XI. 1. NOUS avions du café au lait et du thé, 2. N'a-t-il pas de liqueurs dans Sa boutique * 3. Il y a des glaces pour les garçons et des sorbets pour les filles. 4. Les enfants ont soif ; ils auront de la limonade gaZeuse ou de l'eau frappée. 5. Le marchand de win aura-t-il du vin de Xérès ou d’Oporto ? 6. Il n'aura ni des wins d'Espagne, ni des wins de Madère. 7. Elle n'avait ni vin, ni bière, mi liqueurs. 8. Wous auriez du vin rouge ordinaire et du vin blanc vieux. 9. N'auront-elles pas d'eau- de-vie et de genièvre 7 10. Voici de l'orgeat pour mon grand-père, du thé pour les femmes et du cidre pour les hommes. 11. Monsieur Dupont, est-ce du vin de Bordeaux ou de Bourgogne que vous avez? 12. Mon vin de Madère est un excellent win de table. 13. M. Durand, négociant en vins, vend des wins de France, d'Espagne, de Hongrie ct du Rhin. 14. J'avais de l'eau minérale ; tu n'avais pas d'eau de Seltz; avait-il de l'eau frappée 7 n’avions-nous pas de bière 7 n'avaient-elles pas de café au lait 15. Wous aurez beaucoup de petite bière ; elle aura peu de poiré ; ils n'auront pas de vin vieux ; n'auront-elles pas du vin Inousseux 7 16. Les meilleurs wins de France Sont les wins de Bordeaux, de Champagne, et I'RENCII GRAMMAR. 235 de Bourgogne. 17. Qu'est-ce que la tisane de Champagne 7 C'est un vin peu mousseux. 18. J’avais raison ; aurait-il tort 7 qu'il ait sommeil Ou mon, 19. Si tu as Soif, voici de la petite bière ou du vin ordinaire. 20. Qu'as-tu ?–Je n'ai Tien. N'as-tu pas faim 7–Je n'ai ni fairm Ini Soif, j'ai Sommeil; voilà tout. EXERCISE XII. 1. I had water; thou hadst iced water; had he beer 7 had she small becr? we had no ale and you had no cider. 2. They will have pear- wine ; you will have no old wine ; we shall have white wine ; will he have red wine 7 3. My dinner-wine is not good.—You are wrong : your wine is excellent ; it (il) is better than Mr. Dupont's burgundy. 4. I should have some brandy, gin, or whiskey, if I had (imperfect indicative) money. 5. Should we have some iced champagne 7 6. Let him have some Spanish wines, sherry or malaga. 7. That I may have little wine and much seltzer water. 8. That thou mightest have more claret than (qve de) hock. 9. That they might have black coffee or coffee with milk. 10. That we may have as much madeira as (que de) tokay. 11. The grandfather had the port, the father has the Small beer, the son will have the water. 12. He had liqueurs; he had no arrack; had he any brandy ? had he no rum ? 13. We had good whiskey; you had excellent gin ; they had bad (mauvaise) brandy. 14. You will have red wine; will you have white wine 7 will you have no sparkling wine 7 will you not have any (put here the article ºvith the preposition) common wine 7 15. They would have coffee : they would not have much black coffee ; would they have little coffee with milk 2 16. That I may have black tea ; that I may have no bottled lemonade. 17. That you might have almond-milk and many ices. 18. Are you warm or cold 7 If you are warm here is cold tea, and if you are cold here is excellent warm tea. 19. There is the man who sells port and sherry, am I not right ! 20. No, you are wrong ; my wine merchant is not so tall. THE NOUN (continued)—THEORY. Plural of Nouns. 1. GENERAL RULE.—The plural of nouns is formed by adding s to the singular : les guerriers, the ºvar- 7°iors la reine, the queen les reines, the queens l’erreur, the error les erreurs, the errors Icemark I.-This rule is applicable to adjectives, past participles, and partly to the various pronouns. Bemark II.-The s, sign of the plural, is mute; but it is usually articulated before the next word beginning with a vowel or h mute, if that be closely commected with it by grammatical sense: les guerriers ont porté des défts, tho warriors have given challenges, say guerrier8-zont; , des reines habiles, clever queens, say reines-zabales. (Cf. Prom., § 74.) 2. EXCEPTIONS TO THE GENERAL RULE : a. Nouns ending in s, a , or z in the singular, do not change in the plural: le bas, the stocking les bas, the stockings le tas, the heap les tas, the heaps la Croix, the cross les croix, the crosses le guerrier, the marrior la faux, the scythe le mez, the nose le riz, the rice les faux, the scythes les nez, the noses les riz, different kinds of rice b. Nouns ending in aw and eu in the singular take a in the plural : mon aloyau, my sirloin mes aloyaux, my sirloins mon chapeau, my hat mes chapeaux. my hats mon feu, my fire mes feux, my fires mon Voeu, my vomy mes Voeux, my von's Icemark.--One noun in au, landau, a kind of carriage, makes landaus in the plural. c. Seven nouns ending in ou take likewise ar, a for their plural. These are : le bijou, the jenel les bijoux, the jen-els mon caillou, my pebble mescailloux, my pebbles ton chou, thy cabbage tes choux, thy heads of c. son genou, his knee ses genoux, his knees le hibou, the on:! les hiboux, the owls le joujou, the toy les joujoux, the toys le pou, the louse les poux, the lice Remark.-Other nouns in ou, such as cow, neck; fow, madman; sow, halfpenny; trow, hole; verrow, bolt, etc., follow the general rule: cous, necks; fows, madmen, etc. d. Nouns in al change l into was : le caporal, the corporal les caporaux, the corpo. 7'als & le cheval, the horse les chevaux, the horses le fanal, the beacon les fanaux, the beacons le général, the general les généraux, the gene, 7'als. Remark.—A few nouns of this class conform to the general rule bal, a dancing party; carnaval, carnival; chacal, jackal; nopal, nopal, a species of cactus; marcal, Sword-fish; pal, stake (in heraldry makes either pals or pawa); régal, treat; serval, tiger-cat, and a few more, the sense of which does not admit of their being much used in the plural, except in phrases made up by grammarians. e. Seven nouns in ail—namely, bail, a lease ; corail, coral ; &mail, enamel ; soupira il, vent- hole; travail, work; vantal, leaf of a folding- door ; vitrail, stained glass—change ul into war : bawa, leases ; corawa, Corals ; 6maua, enamels. etc. Remark I.—All other nouns in ail takes in the plural : détail, particular, plur. détavls; epowvantal, scarecrow, plur. 6powvantauls; Évental, fan, plur. Éventatis ; etc. Itemark II.--When traval means reports made to government by the heads of the administrative de- partments, or when it applies to frames used by farriers to shoe restlve horses, its plural is travails. Remark III.—Bétal means cattle, and bestiawa means cattle, but the One is not the singular of the other, as it is sometimes taught. Such words are called doublets by French philologists. They have a common root, but, having come into the language under different clin- cumstances or at different epochs, they offer mostly different acceptations: betail is cattle viewed as a whole simply ; bestvaua is cattle viewed as units Imaking up a whole. Attaquer and attacher, croyance and créance, dette and débit, essaim and eacanen, etc., present more striking doublets, in so far as they offer senses more widely apart. f. A few nouns whose parts have been joined, are nevertheless affected by the plural in both parts ; such are bonhomme, a simpleton, plur. bomshommes; gentilhomme, a nobleman, plur. gentilshommes; monsieur, Mr., plur. messieurs ; madame, Mrs., plur. mesdames; made moiselle, Miss, plur. mesdemoiselles; monseigneur, my lord, plur. messeigneurs, also mosseigneurs. 3. Certain nouns have no plural, and about. $236 TITE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. forty have no singular ; the former embrace, more particularly, nouns of some metals, virtues, vices, sciences, arts, adjectives derived from abstractions and used substantively, and infini- tives used substantively. Examples of both kinds of nouns will be given in the next vo- Cabulary. The Wown.— Practical Application. 1. WOCABULARY W. These have no plural : l'argent,” m. sºlver § l'or, m. gold § le platine, platina. le mercure, mercury o, ſ la candeur, camdour § ) la pureté, purty § ) la sagesse, ºvisdom * (la véracité, truthfulness (l'avarice, f. avarice § ) la gourmandise, gluttony § ) l’ivrognerie, f. drunkenness t la paresse, idleness g (l'agriculture, f. agriculture § ) la botanique, botany $ ) la chimie, chemistry ° (la physique, natural philosophy l'architecture,f f. architecture * \la gravure, engraving S; ) la peinture, painting la sculpture, sculpture * ... (l'agréable, the pleasant §§ )le beau, the beautiful 33)]'utile, the useful Si (le vrai, the true 's .. (le boire, drinking §§) le dormir, sleeping s tº & º; ) le manger, eating Sº [le savoir, knowledge These have no singular : les abois, the last eatremity aguets, match, ovatching alentours, surroundings ancétres, forefathers appas, charms arrhes, earnest-money assises, assizes broussailles, brushwood Calendes, kalends ciseaux, scissors confins, marches décombres, ruins, rubbish dépens, cost entrailles, bonels entrefaites, interim, environs, surrounding places fiançailles, betrothal frais, eaſpense funérailles, obsequies hardes, clothes immondices, filth . *. One Would, however, say: les,fers sont en baisse, iron is down; les acters sont en hausse, steel is up; different kinds being meant. ... f. The respective productions of the arts may appear In the plural: les gravures, the engravings; les pewritures, the paintings; les sculptures, the sculptures, etc. les matériaux, materials matines, matins moeurs, manners pleurs, team's ténèbres, darkness věpres, vespers Vivres, victuals, supplies 2. Idiomatic tenses with aller, to go, and oenir, to come. The present and imperfect indicative of aller placed before an infinitive mark—the present—that the action will soon take place, or—the imperfect—that the action was going to take place. The present indicative of venir, followed by de and placed before an infinitive, indicates that the action has recently taken place, and the imperfect indicative, in the same position, that the action had recently taken place : a. je vais avoir, I am about to have tu vas ātre, thou art about to be ll va, avoir lieu, wt is about to take place on va chercher, one is going to seek nous allons rire, we are going to laugh vous allez voir, you are about to see ils vont commencer, they are about to begin b. j’allais recevoir, I was about to receive tu allals couper, thou wast about to cut il allant manquer, he was govng to favl on allant étre, one was about to be nous allions rire, we were going to laugh vous alliez, volr, you were about to see ils allaient avoir lieu, they were about to take place c. je viens d'avoir, I have just had tu viens d’être, thou hast just been il vient d’avoir lieu, it has just taken place on vient de chercher, one has just sought nous venoms de rire, we have just laughed vous venez de voir, you have just seen ils viennent de commencer, they have just begun d. je venais de, I had just nous venions de, we had just tu venais de, thout hadst just yous venuez de, you had just ll venait de, he had just ils venalent de, they had just 3. Quelque chose de bon, something good ; quelqu'un de riche, some rich person. WI. WE will now give a few hints upon ruling the paper to be used in writing the copies given in these lessons. For the plain downstrokes nothing is absolutely required save two straight lines in pencil at an inch apart for the large exercises first given, and at three- * quarters of an inch asunder for the Ruling Paper smaller examples which we will “”. proceed to give. These double lines should be Tepeated down the page, allowing an interval of a quarter of an inch between each set—that is to Say, between the second and third, fourth and fifth lines, and so on. The lines should be care- fully ruled, parallel with the top of the copybook Or paper, and at right angles to the front and back of the same. The most accurate method is to draw a vertical line down the left and right handmargins of the pageandset off the distances thereon with a pair of compasses. If the pupil PENMANSHIP. 237 sy— could depend upon his hand and eye sufficiently to observe an equal distance between the strokes, and to give them an unvarying slope, no other lines would be necessary. But in most cases It will be well to rule also light diagonal pencil lines to regulate the inclination of the first few exercises and to keep the strokes an equal dis- tance apart. The mode in which these slanting lines are ruled will depend upon the degree of inclination of the Writing copies, and this is a moot point amongst authorities on chirography. As the old writing-master Dean said long since, —“There is no generally prescribed slope in the productions of modern penmen, each having deviated from that anciently recommended, viz., the sides of an equilateral triangle. Whether the inclination of the stroke be fifty- & ſº º eight, fifty-six, or fifty-four de- *:::::::::: grees, is totally optional. The last appears consistent and natural, as the running hand usually slopes more than the writing youths perform in general.” The same diversity exists to-day. One very popu- lar set of copies has even the slope of the forty-five degrees which Dean spoke of as obsolete. Another equally popular set adopts as high an angle as sixty degrees. As we remarked in our first paper, writing which is too greatly sloped wastes paper and both writer's and reader's time, therefore the angle of forty-five seems altogether ab- surd. Perhaps the angle of sixty is, on the other hand, too upright for symmetry ruled to the right at intervals of seven-six- teenths of an inch, as shown. For the smaller copies the distances shown on the right hand at Fig. 6 will be suitable. The inclination adopted in the cursive writing of after life will probably vary even with those who have gone through a course of lessons where the same angle has been observed. This is one of those traits which individualise handwriting. It must, however, be understood that the ruling of sloping pencil lines to aid learners in giving their early exercises an equal degree of inclination should only be used at first and for simple forms, otherwise the practice will de- generate into something like that adopted in those copybooks where the copies are printed in a grey or drab ink, and the pupil is instructed to go over them with pen and ink in the usual way. No doubt this method—a very favourite one with some masters—has its advocates of name and weight. They range, in fact, from John Locke to the present day. * g That usually just writer says: Sloping guide “The way to teach a child to lines. write without much trouble is to get a plate engraved in large characters, and let several pages be printed off in red, which he is to go over with a pen and black ink; this will quickly enable him to form those characters, and when he can do that well he must ex- ercise on fair paper, v... and so may be easily & brought to write.” It \ will be observed he \ advocates the child's \. (and to children alone * * * *me mºm sºme smº. * mº, º sºme wº and ease of production. One slightly varying from this, therefore— viz., an angle of fifty-eight degrees—is that adopted in the previous and subsequent copy- slips. Femaps some of our readers may not have a clear idea of these angles, and to them we & ſº º would explain that the circum- Definition of ference of a circle is divided for * mathematical purposes into three hundred and sixty parts, termed “degrees.” A quarter circle has consequently ninety of these parts, and any line drawn from the centre of the quarter-circle or quadrant to a point on the arc forms with the base line an angle of the number of degrees found at the place where the line cuts the arc. Those of our readers having a case of drawing instru- ments can of course exemplify this by the pro- tractor. An angle of forty-five degrees cuts the 3.T.C precisely midway between its extreme points of 0° and 90°. At fig. 6 both the inch and three- quarter inch strokes are shown at an angle of fifty-eight degrees. It will there be seen that for the inch strokes nine-sixteenths of an inch should be set off at the top from the left-hand margin of the top lines, and a diagonal line ruled for the first stroke. Lines parallel to this and slanting in the same manner can then be FIG. 6.—DEGREES OF INCLINATION. is such a system suit- able) early liberation from the trammels of this system, and his freedom to write on “fair paper.” But with all respect for the philo- sopher's great authority, we think the system of but little use even to very young scholars, and worse than useless to the adolescent or the adult. What would be thought of a teacher of drawing who set his scholars to trace over such faintly-printed copies of flowers, or animals, or trees' No, he endeavours to teach them to make the hand obedient to the eye, in order that the latter may truly reproduce what the former perceives. Precisely this co-relation between the eye and hand is necessary to the penman at the outset. The necessity of fol- lowing the copy at the head of the page, or upon the copy-slip, causes the student to exa- mine it closely, and gives him in a day more correct notions of the delicacies of formation of the diffèrent letters than he could have obtained in six months by the “weary, flat, stale, and unprofitable” expedient of tracing. In any cases where it may be proposed to use the present series of lessons as a basis for teaching young scholars, we would impress upon the instructor the extreme utility of the slate, especially when used in combination with the blackboard, for class-teaching. Apart 238 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. from the facility with which the slate may be cleaned and prepared for fresh practice, its use * * * * at first is more likely to induce Utility of slate habits of observation and care- work, fulness in the child than would be ensured by giving pen and paper at the OutSet, “Writing as well as drawing,” says Pestalozzi, “ought to be first practised on the slate, for the child learns to handle the pencil more correctly at a much earlier period than the pen. The use of the slate has, moreover, this advantage—that whatever may be wrong can be easily effaced and corrected, whereas On paper, where this is impossible, one ill- sloped letter generally leads to another. Hence it is that, in looking over the pages of a copy- book, we find so frequently lines in which a regular progression of bad writing can be traced from the beginning to the end.” Nor is this the only benefit, for if the child makes his early efforts at the formation of letters upon a slate, he is able to give an undivided attention to that one thing ; instead of having it partially devoted to the holding and manage- ment of his pen. This constrained attention to two things at once is apt to tend to an unde- sirable distraction of mind, in which neither is well done. “Not only children,” says Locke, “but anybody else that would do anything well, should never be put upon too much of it at once, or be set to perfect themselves in two parts of an action at the same time, if they can possibly be separated.” The pencil and Slate is, therefore, of unquestionable utility in the instruction of young children in writing. Of course the observation only applies to be- ginners. Slates may be readily scratched with ruled lines as on the paper. In a former paper we gave a careful analysis of the Small letters and an outline of their classification. With regard to the combination of the letters we shall adopt the following general rules from Foster :— 1. The proportions, etc., are regulated by the letter n, the width of which should be equal to half its perpendicular height, and is termed a “space.” 2. The simple right line, whether ascending or descending, must be twice the length of n : but in all cases the loop adds one-quarter to the length of the letter. The exceptions are # and p. 3. The downstrokes have their greatest thickness only in the direction of the general slope; for they neither acquire their fulness till they come to, nor retain it after they deviate from, the general slope. 4. When two or more right-lined letters, or two parts of the same letter, are united by means of a single curve—as it, ut, hit, hut, nut, mill, tulip—the distance between them is equal to one space, or the width of an n. 5. When two or more right-lined letters are united by means of a curve at top and bottom —as in, un, inn, nn, mºm, my, hy, py—the dis- tance between them is equal to a space and a half. 6. When two or more oval letters are united —as 00, 00, oe, od; bo, be, wo, re, no, ne, mood; Combination, or when an oval letter precedes and is joined to i, u, t, l, or b—as oi, ot, ol, ob—the distance between them is equal to three-quarters of a space only. The last part of b, v, and n is here considered as an oval. 7. When c or e comes before right-lined letters, and joins in the middle—as ci, cl, el, et, eb, ep—the distance between them is equal to one space and a half; but when joined with a turn at the top—as cm, em, cr, er, ea, os—the distance is equal to two spaces. QNº TNGº º sº 3:2 Zºº º º R, =º & Sºzºſº ºšNº. - THE FRIENDLY COUNSELLO ſº # sºº “ º ; : THE TRAVELLING STUDENT. To travel and to study were, from the dawn of learning in this country down to a period not remote, almost synonymous terms. As few or none could travel any great distance in those times for pleasure, or what is now called holi- day or recreation, it followed that distant travels were only undertaken under some strong mo- tives, of which the desire to learn was the more prevailing, and certainly the one in ad- vance, and the most civilising, of all others George Buchanan, “that great Scotch poet,” as Montaigne himself calls him, was one of the domestic tutors of the celebrated French essayist of the sixteenth century. As there was not more than twenty odd years between the birth of the tutor and that of his pupil, Buchanan must have been a travelling student at the time when he gave Some little mental form to the son of a French seigneur, not yet in his teens. Buchanan attained the highest academical honours in his own country, was a man of much influence in the court of James W. of Scotland, and was the tutor of James I. of England, whose latinity and logic, though it had to be well birched into him by his tutor, and may thus have gone somewhat awry, must be familiar to all readers from Scott's “Fortunes of Nigel.” What renders Buchanan still admirable, however, to modern Scholars is the purity and elegance of his Latin verses. George travelled from one college to another in Scotland, till in his ardour of learning he crossed the seas, and travelled to the Latin quarter of Paris; and thus it was in general that the Renaissance in Italy was propagated by “vagrant scholars,” like light touching light, in the northern countries of Europe, and there produced incomparably grander and more abiding results than in its native Seats. To take a different case. Oliver Goldsmith was not much of a student at any time. He was not a plodder, as students even of genius now must be, and he had little patience for mastery of details, or accurate and comprehen- sive knowledge. Yet to his wanderings through Italy, Roumelia, France, and the Low Countries we owe not only his poem, “The Traveller,” but many passages in the “Citizen of the 8. THE FRIENDLY COUNSELLOE, 239 World,” “Vicar of Wakefield,” “History of Animated Nature,” and even “The Deserted Village,” which are not the least apt to be remembered in these works. The habit of students in the past times became the habit also of all the more aspiring artisans; and many books might be written on the lives of working men who “tramped” from their native town or village to larger towns, and thence into foreign countries, and returned in mastery of their craft, to improve and enrich the industry of their own land. This is important to be observed, inasmuch as it shows that one main object of travel, when travelling was extremely difficult, was to improve one's study or art, whatever that might be. The ancient usage is too good, in fact, to be wholly lost, as lost in a certain measure it may be in some danger of being. The means of travel have in our day been very materially revolutionised. The new leaf has been spread out, indeed, with a suddenness and completeness simply marvellous; and the shock to all the old habits and customs, even where these were in a commendable direction, has been so much the greater. Travelling, whether Over short or long distances, has become one of the easiest things in the world; and because it is so easy, it has come to be associated almost wholly with pleasure. When I say “almost wholly,” of course I do not mean to say that the number of students and artists who pass to foreign universities and schools of art, and who travel with a view to study, is not im- mensely greater than it was at any former period of our history. We are only glancing at the general tendency, at the mark put by the ma- jority of all classes on locomotion as a means simply of amusement, with which there is some reason to quarrel a little, because here utility in almost every case may still be combined with the highest pleasure. It may be commended to every one, in- deed, that in undertaking a journey, whether long or short, it is always good to have some useful purpose in view, even though one's own temporary pleasure may be the chief intent. The longer the journey may be, this is the more true. Nothing can well be supposed more dismal than Sailing round the world, if sailing round the world be the only object of that tedious circumnavigation. In the case even of invalids Seeking health, the prime condition of all exist- ence, no distinguished member of the faculty would expect much benefit from the mere pass- ing into other climes and breathing other air, unless he had some hope that the mind of the patient would be agreeably occupied and ex- panded in the meanwhile. But, since we are referring chiefly to a more robust class, suffice it to Say that any student, who sets out on travel at home or abroad without deliberate intention of adding to his study, and advancing the main purpose of his life, as far as the travel will admit, must be a very irrational mortal. Cobbett, in his counsels to young men, ex- horts them to study history and geography, and above all to begin with the history and geography of their own country. He could say of himself, “I have now seen almost every hill and valley in England with my own eyes, nearly every city and every town, and no small part of the whole of the villages.” The advice and example are worthy of being noted, inas- much as they serve to point out plainly how study may be promoted by travel both in one's own country and in other countries. Sight-Seeing, in the popular sense, is not a very commendable passion ; but spectacle, in the Sense of something that aids the intellectual sight, is a valuable power in education. Even the row of black balls which shows a child that three and two make five is useful; and since one cannot see a whole country, a map is indispensable. There is scarcely anything the rules of doing which are taught us at school that we are not the better for seeing done. Ocular demonstration goes hand in hand with more thorough mental understand- ing. It is only by seeing and examining objects that our comparative faculty is aroused, and a basis is laid of all clear insight and estimate of degrees of excellence. He who would be a Surgeon must visit the hospitals, and see the best operators at work. A painter, sculptor, or architect, must see the best works, the very highest models of his art, if he would be able to judge his own work, or know what, even in the bent of his own genius, he is striving to attain. A student in any branch of art or Science who fails to remember this, when he is arranging his holidays, forgets himself, and Sacrifices both his interest and his pleasure. These trite observations may not be un- necessary at the present time, for the number of idle and pleasure-seeking people is so great, that they are all too apt to give the fashion to holiday-touring, as well as to much else. The favourite routes are no doubt admirably Selected on the , whole. They pass through beautiful and picturesque scenes of nature, which are always inspiring; and when one has time to dwell among them a little, to ques- tion oneself in what their beauty or sublimity consists, and to “rise from Nature up to Na- ture's God,” it would be folly to deny their value in the education of any student, whatever his pursuit or profession may be. But the path of a student may often lie through very unin- teresting places, save in so far as they may be hallowed by his particular study; and yet the best recreation will always be found to be that in which the permanently useful is combined with the temporarily agreeable. A student who desires to move on steadily and strongly will endeavour to include in his time and place of holidaying somethings which will help to supply a previously felt blank in his culture; and with this remark I will conclude by a kindly admonition to him not to forget the things thus contemplated when they are within reach. For, in the perversity of our nature, objects of the highest interest often lose their hold upon us in proportion to their proximity, and fade out of sight in the sun- shine of the moment. The travelling student, who falls into this mistake, has seldom returned more than a day or two to his home when he discovers, and laughs at or reprobates his own weakness. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. “A Sºse &_º, ſº S º 2. Neº a rºw **-*** Tº Yº sº. OLOG WII. THERE are, however, other processes in active - operation, by whose combined Sub-aerial power vastly greater results are denudation achieved. Variations of tempe- rature; water in its several conditions of mist, rain, and ice, assisted by the carbonic acid taken up from the soil and the atmosphere, - these and what- ever else may be included un d e r the phrase “atmos- pheric ’’ agen- cies, are always at work, and their effect is to be seen every- where. By this In 62.IlS On OllIl- tain ranges are cut into fan- tastic forms, re- duced in height, and finally, in the course of long ages, levelled. By the same agencies the softer strata are gradually borne down to the ocean to be recon- structed. And it is mainly in this way that the waters of the ocean are kept supplied with the salts which they hold in solution, and from which the rock-builders obtain the material with which they work. Let us trace the pro- cess. The amount of sediment brought down to the sea by rivers has long been a matter of gººg. PLESIOSAURUS, One of the most remarkable deltas now in course of formation is that of the Mississippi. From the N.W. to the S.E. it sº measures about 200 miles, and in Formation of the opposite direction about 140 * miles—that is, so much land has been added to the continent by the mud brought down from time to time by the river. The delta of the Nile, formed in a similar manner, occupies an area of no less than 9,000 square miles; and that of the Ganges and Brahmapootra is more than double the size. All rivers, however, do not form deltaS ; the existence or non-existence Zººs of currents—the §ºgs rapidity of the fall, and the proportion of sediment—are some of the cir- C u m St a n c e S which deter- mine their for- mation or non- production ; but every river, large or small, carries some amount of sedi. mentary matter down to the Ocean. It has been estimated that the Missis- sippi conveys in this way about 7,549,267,200 cubic feet every year; the Ganges 6,368,077,440; the Rhone, 600,381,800 ; the Po, 1,510,137,000; and the Danube, 1,253,738,600. Our Own Thames is one of the rivers which do not form deltas, but it contributes, as its yearly proportion of solid matter, about 1,865,903 cubic feet—that is, it carries down to the sea so much mud, etc., suspended in the water—matter that might be removed by filtration. It carries down a great deal more -- 3: *-i-º-, ***…*.*.*, *. * º- x- ~5-3. -- #3; x *.*.*.*.x: º • - --- - - ** *** º-ºº: §§ FLAMIBOROUGH HIEAD. observation. In every case a considerable pro- portion of the finer particles is carried to a iong distance, but under favourable conditions much of it is deposited at and near the mouth of the river, forming what is called a delta.” * A name given by the Greeks to the large tract formed by the deposits brought down by the Nile, because .resembled in shape the letter A (delta). invisibly dissolved—matter that may be de- tected by chemical reagents and by evaporation, but which cannot be got rid of by filtering. The salts so dissolved amount, on the average, to about 19 grains in every gallon of Water, and these consist of carbonate of lime, Sulphate of lime, carbonate of magnesia, the chlorides of sodium and potassium, sulphates of Soda and GEOLOGY. 241 potash, with minute quantities of silica, and mere traces of iron, alumina, and phosphates. Estimating the quantity of water that passes Kingston-on-Thames by observations conducted at various Seasons of the year, it is ascertained that in this way no less than 1,000 tons of carbonate of lime, about 238 tons of sulphate of lime, and 264 tons of the other substances named, are carried down on the average every twenty-four hours, which is equal to about 8,000,000 cubic feet of solid matter in the year. Add to this the mud, as mentioned above, the coarser sediment pushed along the bottom of the river, and the additional matter which is taken up between Kingston and the mouth of the Thames, and it is estimated that £he total will not be much less than 14,000,000 cubic feet annually.” The student will do well £o pause over these figures. They represent what is going on in every part of the world, of the atmosphere, or it is obtained from the soil to which it has been supplied by the vegetation. The water charged with carbonic acid has the power of dissolving the limestone of the rocks through which it slowly filters, until it reaches some stratum—clay or other- wise—through which it cannot pass. Here it accumulates and ultimately finds its way out, forming a “spring.” Every little stream which joins the Thames, on its way from its source, supplies something to the burden which the river is destined to bear onwards—the merely superficial water, that which runs off the surface of the higher ground, containing more or less mud, as well as dissolved lime and other substances. Every part, therefore, of what is known as the Basin of the Thames— that is, the country which is drained into the Thames—is laid under contribution. As the river passes out of the oolitic and chalky SNOW DON FROM THE PASS OF LLAN BE BIS. to a greater or Iesser degree. What is thus poured into the ocean is taken from the land —not, be it remembered, from the bed of the rivers, but from the whole area which they drain. Some rivers are unquestionably deepen- ing their channels and carrying down the excavated material; but it is not so in all cases. Rivers are also known to alter their courses, and in every such instance the work of cutting out the new channel is represented 'by a corresponding quantity of débris borne seawards; but these are exceptional cases. The Thames, at all events, pursues its steady course through a well-known channel. It rises from a few springs, which unite to form a small stream ; and every drop of water which issues from these springs contains its proportion of carbonate of lime and other salts. The springs themselves are fed by the rain; the raindrops as they fall take up some of the carbonic acid * See Presidential Address at the Geological Society, 1872. By Joseph Prestwich, Esq. WOL. I. districts into and through the clay beds of the London Basin, it receives a larger proportion of mud–from the affluents by which it is augmented, and the rain which drains into it from its banks—until with its accumulated, material it pours itself into the sea. Sup- posing now we compare the total amount of Sediment and dissolved material taken down) by the Thames with the area drained, we arrive at the conclusion that it is equal to the wearing away of the whole surface at the rate of about sººth part of an inch every year. If, however, we reckon, as we may fairly do, that about ten grains of carbonate of lime in every gallon of water has been obtained from the chalk, upper greensand, oolites, etc., etc., the denudation would be equal to the removal of One foot in a little over thirteen thousand years.” w See Mr. Prestwich's Address, previously referred º 16 242 THE UNIVERSAL IASTRUCTOR. §3\ºšRºzº £ºš ºsº Śº S. E=- º SN ºffiliffſii.5II THE VERB @aben (continued). Study for Reading and Pronunciation. (FIRST to be read aloud, by the pronunciation lines, then to be studied with the English by the translation lines, them to be committed to memory, and lastly to be used in the forma- tion of the sentences in the subsequent exer- cise. It cannot be too often repeated that the student should enlarge his vocabulary as he goes on, by committing to memory as many German words as possible ; and in the case of nouns it is very important to acquire the plural, and to remember the gender of each noun.) Øaš Čtſ ſoft am 1 Jheere. das shloss am maizº'-6. THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. The following verses are from a poem by Ludwig Uhland, one of the best German poets of the present century. Most of our readers will have met with Longfellow’s graceful translation of this poem. We subjoin some verses of the American poet's version, for com- parlson. §aſt bu baá (3d)foß” geſeſ)en, hast doo dass shloss ge-zay'-en Hast thou the castle seen, Øag offe Gºffſoft am 9teer?? dass ho’-e Shloss am mair," The high castle by the sea? Gjøſben umb roſig meſſen gol!'-den unt ro'-zich way'-en Golden and rosy wave Øie Šēpſtem + barāber 9er, dee voll’-ken daºue'-her hairr The clouds thereover (hither). :* >k × >k §§oßſ 9q6' iſ e8 geſeñem, vole hab' ich ess gé-zay’-en Well have I it seen, Øać joße 35ſ)ſoff an º’eer, dass ho'-e Shloss am, main"r The high castle by-the sea, limb ben S)?omb" batúber ſteffen, wnt dame moand darue-ber stal/-on . And the moon thereover stand, 1Inb Stebeſ hyett umber, aunt nay'-bel vite num-hairm’ And mists wide (far) around. * Am is the contraction of an dem. An signifies at, 'by, near, on, as Köln am I?heime, Cologne on the Rhine. An, signifying locality, goverms the dative case. ... ... * Sofiloss means in German a lock; as a building das Schloss is a palace or castle, a great glosed man- sion; die Burg (Öoorg) is a strong or fortified, Castle: Schlöss may be for residence, Burg must be for defence. * Meer. "The e of the dative case is often left Out, especially in poetry; thus we can say am Meere or am Meer, dem Sohme or dem Sohm. - * Iſſie Wolke, the cloud. Hence the English word the Welkin. * In German the sun is feminine, die Sonne, and the moon is masculine, der Mond, contrary to the general rule in other languages. :*: * * x: :k ©aßſt gou oben geben zahst doo 0'-ben gay'-en Sawest thou above go Øem Štěnig umb ſein Gjemaljſ?” dane koe'-nich wnt zine ge-mah! The king and his consort 7 Øer rotſen Sjöänteſ §§eßen 27 dare 7'oh'-ten men'-tel way'-en Of the red mantles (the) waving, Øer gotbnem Stromen ©traßſ? " dare golló -men kro'-nen Strahl Of the golden crowns (the) beam? Şüştten ſte midt mit $omme fuel'-tem. zee micht mit von'-we Led they not with bliss Çine ſtjäme Sungfrau” bar, º'-me shoeh'-ne yung'sſroyo da/ºr A beautiful maiden forth, Şerrſity” moie eine Čonne, hai,”’’-lich vee iſ-ne con'-me Glorious a.S 2. Sun, ©traßſemb im goſpnen Öaat 2 strahl'-ent im, golld'-nen hakr Beaming in-the golden hair 7 §oſſ ſaſ) iſ bie (ºſtern” bette vole zah ich dee elt’-ey'rn by’-de Well saw I the parents, both SOffme bet Stromen £idt, oh/-ne dare kro'-men liecht' Without the crowns' light, Smt ſºftwar;en º ºrguerffeibe; in shºwartz’-en troov'-677'-kly-de' In the black morning garment, 3Die Sungfrau ſaff itſ midf. dee yung'.from zah ich nicht The maiden saw I not. Longfellow renders the verses thus:– “Hast thou seen that lordly castle, That castle by the sea 7 Golden and red above it The clouds float gorgeously. 3% × >}, >K × Well have I seen that castle, That castle by the Sea, And the moon above it standing, And the mist rise Solemanly. * Dey Gemahl, for a woman, is a poetic license. In prose we should say die Gemahlin. “Wie geht es Ihrer Fraw Gemahlin 7 ° Wee gate ess eerer frow ge-mahl'-in (how goes it with [how does] your lady wife?) is an ordinary phrase of civility in German. * Wehem is literally to blow : Der Wind weht kalt, the dare vint vayt kalt, wind blows cold. Notice that wehem is written with a large letter when it occurs as a noun—“the waving ;” hence das Wehen, the blowing to and fro, or waving. * Der Strahl is also used for the flash : derl3/itz-strah!, the lightning flash. * Jungfrave, literally young lady. ** Herrlich is an adjective, from der Herº' (anciently IIerre), the master or lord. Herrlich means here ma- jestic. * Die Elfern, literally the elders. . $ * Schwartz, from which we have the word Swarthy Or Swart. GERMAN. 243 And sawest thou on the turrets The king and his royal bride? And the wave of their crimson mantles, And the golden crown of pride? Led they not forth in rapture A beauteous maiden there, Resplendent as the morning sun, Beaming with golden hair 7 Well saw I the ancient parents, Without the crown of pride; They were moving slow, in weeds of woe, No maiden was by their side l’’ In these verses the American poet has made only one mistake, but that is an important error, as it interferes with the meaning of the poem. He translates (35°mańſ (consort) as BRIDE. The king and his consort are spoken of in the last verse as the ancient parents, and the maiden for whom they wear mourning was their daughter. The intention of Uhland's poem is to illustrate the old saying of the Roman poet that Death knocks with equal foot at the poor man's cottage and the monarch's Remarks on the Pronunciation, etc., of the above. It cannot be too frequently impressed on the student who uses these readings for Self- tuition that in the pronunciation great atten- tion must be paid to these five points:–1. That the German r is more sounded than the English. 2. That the d) must be pronounced as in the Irish och, and not like ock, except where indicated,—asin &adjá, where it is pro- nounced like ks of a because followed by an 8. 3. That the German a never has the sound ay as in baker, or the medium sound as in banner, but always the ah, sound as in father ; though sometimes it is longer than at others, thus Žafeſ (taa’-fel), table, is longer than Şamb (vand), wall. 4. That the u in German is never pronounced as in the English word hungry, but always either as w in pull, bull (the short u as in unter, under), or as oo in pool (the long u as in baá lifer (00'-ferr), the shore. 5. The 3 at the end of a word in German has the sound of the English ss ; thus there is no diffe- rence in the pronunciation of the final in baá and 3djſołł, both being pronounced as with an English double s. STUDY IN GERMAN CALLIGRAPHY. palace. Hast das 24.4% ** * hohe Schlosz * * * * 2.4%, * ze º zz2%zzezzº, Golden und Die 4% Wohl Wolken hab’ ic Das hohe rosig & Ap /2% 24.2%, 2% 2^* /2%. Z% %24 ‘CZ-Zzz Schlosz drüber her. Aº % 24 y.º. ZZZ 2 2%, ~&Czz 2%.2. 22% 22Ž 2%ZZ %, %,” ºr //, Und den Mond %2° && 22.2° 224. Und Nebel weit &/ /2% ºz. 2%. Sahst Du oben * Den König und Schlosz gesehen, ^%ZZZ &zz 2 3 Iſl Meer 7 wehen, zzº, gesehen Ø %22z.2 3.IOl Meer, darüber stehen, umber. gehen, Sein Gemahl' °CIT HOAA ȘIHŌ ōIO SŪNIŁŁŁnO NYAIO O "IvæIONIŁŁ BIH）, §Sºrdiº149I 9ų4 uſ paqĻIosep ere føđoàng titatſgroRĮ UIĘ KIT8ț0ødsø ºøņgurſſo §uſogºngſ ſy $30.993 QUAL ‘suoſãº， oņořenay ºptrå ögörſ öğą （užoj sjūōrōpſoolºgų ſpūſë ‘sugao.O úgyptiſ put ogſ08ā ‘oſſueI3V ºqº go 8que Lino eſqøžſibūęI ĐióūI 'eqq 'jo' tïoğoàiğoq'} ſuose） do I quºqo aqq uĮ sėūȚøtȚI, →á . …” \！\„~~~~.__^ ğ.į% ^,.* Z? -}{*.……” };�-• • , # Sº/į - „infuô`~~---------~~~~- † . �/?iš410\„-ífiq•- - íſt，“s.!į-،$$-% º.º.į„ºgroſſ?^s, �...“, »# ANNÅ;Q !！！”~~~~„.. Ø ’s,+ ---+r., VA.， § \,~~~~） %*«.~ ~~~~）; --••• • ſ،<！\,�~~_ “…,\ ，�~） •••••••~~.•* • . ^•,`-------*~ň|| 2Zºx- （~~~~...````··ſ ** • …→`·.O;Q33JJ*→«»№*）- \? × •。ÇŠºžmiºſºn?mj._°%>.*? pºucosuoſ umunºlºģA, 1/2 -----···---···-------~~~~ſą? ~~ •|-ſý-~…“ ~~~ ~~~------]~~~~）.“ ) º.32:（~~~~ ,„º 2;“rumaen， №g-→*&>JNgºro， ſºmſg:M +-------- \-•！-r●·2`s,*~）- ***** • • • • • • • …..--------···）：ſ... y :�.*•Ģ7.）,®,\~-------------> .…--~~~~|---*,-}• • • • • „~“ :o 23?: ~ . . .|- .---***** _°°|<%} -`· JPHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 245 /* J. Der rothen goldnen & A. Führten sie Kronen nicht 4%.222' Mäntel Wehen, Strahl 7 &4,…, Wonne, * /*, 2*, *z, Eine schöne Jungfrau dar %rcº/ 22.2% zezzez &zz, Że z Herrlich wie eine Sonne Strahlend im &^%zz." WOhl Sah ich der Ohne <2. 2% easy Zzz Im Schwarzen goldnen 2% 2%.” 42.2% 6. Kronen Haar 7 Eltern beide 2…” –2% Licht, % & 2 2% & z-zzzzzzzºzzzzzzz / Trauerkleide ; /2% 2%aº 2% % */º Die IEXERCISE ON THE FOREGOING STUDY. To be translated into German, and corrected by the German version given belony. The Ger- man poem should first be learnt by heart. I have seen the high castle by the sea. The clouds blow over it. I saw the king and his consort walking above. They had not red cloaks ; they had black mourning garments. They did not lead the beautiful maiden, glorious as the sun. I saw the parents. They Jungfrau had not crowns—and I saw not the maiden. I saw the moon stand over the castle, and mists far around. German, Version. $d) flaše baá Šolje Čd ſoft am ºeere Ich habe dass ho'e Schloss am mairre gefeffen. ©te. §§offen moeben barāber gé-zay’-en. Dee voll"-ken way'-en darue/beyºr $er. Śd) ſaff ben &émig umb ſeine (jee hairr Ich zah dane koe'-nich unt zi'-ne ge- maſſin oben geşen. ©ie flatten midt mahl'-in o'-ben gay'-en zee hat-ten night rotºe ºinteſ; ſte §atten fömbarge oroh -te men'-tel zee hat-ten shvart’-se sah ich nicht. £rauerffeiber. ©ie füştten midt bie tromy-erº-kly'-der” zee fueh?'ten micht dee ſijöme Sungfrau, 9erriid) note bie &omme. shoeh'-ne yung-fron; hairr'-lich vee dee zon'-ne, $d) fań bie (ºſtern. ©ie batten midf Joh zah dee el'-term zee hat-ten nich; Stromen; unb id) ſal) midſt bie Sungfrau. kro'-nen unt ich zah micht dee yung-fron, Śd) ſaff ben SJ'omb iber ben Öğſofie Ich zah den moand we'-berr dame shlosſ-se ſteşem, umb Stebeſ wett umber. stay'-em unt may’-bel vite um-hairr'. § sº lºss º NS$, ºr ºve tº º WSº O. § Nº. ---> 3 > º: tº Nº, sº...,\?". tº Sº Sºº & sº º - ſº S S ºf ºl w º ºr a - sº. - ºr * * §§ *:: 22.” º - - & º ºw: * ~ * o: ; : *A.: : - } ... ſº ... ºr - ºf P . . . . . . . º. ſ WAE ºf \º ... --- . . . ſ tº ſº -> S T. . Šºvš º - º- º --- º, - º 5..." *. Sºº ;:Sºsºvº; }º º º - Sº, sº º sº tºº V & º , *A*ś º Sºº ſ T ſº ºl, º º º 2. A . ſº wºº. § ... .º ... ºr ºf s : § ºf ºººº. ºS. - º i.S. sº WS º º | W. w &\ºSººſzº sº º L- - 5 * * * ***** * * * * *. ſ: §§§º OCEAN CURRENTS, THE water of the ocean is perpetually moving, not only on the surface, but by the action of 246 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. currents, or immense streams moving around and about the surface of the globe, in obedience to certain motive forces. These are principally, the force of winds; the tidal force (explained hereafter); differences of temperature, which expand or contract water by heat and cold ; the evaporating power of the sun ; melting of masses of ices at the poles; and the revolution of the earth about its axis. There are drift - currents and stream currents, the Varied ºurrents, former due to the action of winds upon the surface water, impelling it to leeward (or in a direction contrary to that from which the wind is blowing), until, meeting with some obstacle, land or Sandbanks, its progress is arrested, and an accumulation of water pro- duced. The drift current then gives rise to a stream current, carrying off the collected waters, and restoring the equilibrium of the surface of the ocean. The average velocity of a drift current is about half a mile an hour ; that of a stream current is not unfrequently five miles an hour. There are also periodical, constant, 'variable, and counter currents. Periodical currents occur at certain seasons of the year, the time of which is generally known to navigators, and are due to the action of tides and winds, especially monsoons—those winds which, in the Indian Ocean, blow from the south-west from April to October, and from the north-east from October to April, the two periods of change being generally accompanied by great atmospherical disturbance. Constant Currents are, as the name implies, in continual operation—the great oceanic rivers, as they have been named, perpetually flowing. Wariable currents are occasioned by the action of the tides, changeable winds, and the melting of ice, which is obviously uncertain as to period or duration. Counter currents are those remark- able streams that flow alongside other currents, but in opposite directions. These are in some instances very remarkable, as a cold current will be observed running southward in imme- diate proximity to a hot current having a northward direction. The most remarkable currents are in the Atlantic Ocean, and they have been most Atlantic accurately observed by scientific navigators. The South Atlantic currents. current flows round the Cape of Good Hope from the Indian Ocean, and follows the course of the African coast nearly as far as the equator, with an average breadth of about sixty miles, and a velocity of a mile an hour. It then diverges westward, forming the powerful Equatorial current, and flowing with increased extent and velocity to the South American coast, where it divides into two branches, the Southern being known as the Brazil current, extending as far as the mouth of the La Plata river, and the northern entering the Gulf of Mexico between Cuba and the peninsula of Yucatan, following the coast line to the delta of the Mississippi. Here, as we have already observed, the temperature of the ocean is higher than in any other part of the world, and the current, thereafter known as the Gulf Stream, carries onward a stream of hot water, travelling at the rate of five miles an hour, through the Strait of Florida, into the Atlantie Ocean, following the American coast as far as Cape Hatteras, in North Carolina, where it bends to the east, crosses the Atlantic to the Azores Islands, about lat. 40° N., but throwing off a north current, which strikes the western shores of Great Britain and Ireland, then skirting the coast of Norway as far as the North Cape, and the effect is sometimes felt as high as Spitzbergen. The great stream of hot water thus carried northward accounts for the high temperature of north-western Europe as compared with those parts of North America lying under the same latitudes. The district about North Cape is habitable, but in almost corresponding latitudes of the western hemi- sphere are the “thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice,” where so many brave Arctic explorers have encountered a terrible death. Near the Azores, after a circuit of more than 3,000 miles from the Strait of Florida, the main stream of the current passes Gibraltar, Madeira, and the Canaries, becoming at last mingled with the great Equatorial current, the circuit having been completed in about two years and ten months. In the centre of the circle formed by the going out and returning currents is a vast mass of floating seaweed, known as the Sargasso Sea, the “seaweed meadows" of the early Spanish navigators. The course of the current which we have traced is clearly perceptible, the water being salter, and of a deeper blue colour, and of a higher temperature than the surrounding Sea. One of the facts which greatly impressed Columbus before un- dertaking his great voyage of discovery was the drifting of the bodies of men of unknown race to the shores of the Azores. They were doubtless American Indians, carried forward by the Gulf Stream and deposited on the shores of an Atlantic island—unconscious messengers from the New World to the Old. An Arctic current of cold water, bearing many icebergs, flows from the Arctic Ocean to the east of the Great Bank of Newfound- land, where the meeting of the cold and hot waters produce the fogs which mark that Tegion. There are several smaller and less im- portant currents The currents of the Pacific are less accu- rately known than those of the Atlantic, but navigators are daily increasing our knowledge of the subject. Pacific The great Antarctic drift our- ourrents. vent, flowing from the icy regions of the extreme South, strikes the southern point of Terra del Fuego, at Cape Horn, from which it takes its name, dividing into two branches, one flowing toward the Atlantic, the other in a northerly direction, following the coast line as far as Cape Blanco, about 250 miles south of the equatorial line. The latter is the Peruvian or Humboldt's current. That distinguished observer, in the course of his investigations on the western coast of South America, about the beginning of the present century, noticed that a broad GüTeam of cold water was perpetually flowing from the South. He made careful ex- periments, the result of which was the discovery of a powerful current, somewhat similar in cha- JHISTORY OF MODERAW TIMES. 247 racter to the well-known Atlantic Gulf-stream, and the temperature of which was from fifteen to twenty degrees below that of the surround- ing ocean. When near the equator the current takes a westerly direction across the Ocean, mingling with the great Equatorial drift cur- rent, which flows on either side of the equatorial line, having an average breadth of about 3,000 miles and travelling at the Tate of about thirty miles a day. This immense current is divided by a smaller current—the Equatorial counter current, flowing in an opposite direction—into two branches having parallel courses. The southern branch strikes the Australian coast, and under the name of the Australian current sweeps round the South-eastern angle of the great island, and then, again taking an easterly direction, washes the shores of New Zealand. A warm current to the south of Van Diemen's Land appears to connect the Indian and Pacific “Oceans. The northern branch of the great Equatorial current sweeps along the shores of the Philippine and Japanese Islands (where it ſhas a varying velocity of from fifty to a hundred and twenty miles a day) towards Behring's Straits, through which a portion of the stream passes with considerable velocity; but the greater body of water is carried towards the American coast, which it follows till near the Californian peninsula, when it turns west- ward, and completes a sort of circle by re- ontering the Great Current. There are various currents in the Indian Ocean, some dependent on the monsoons. The most important are the equatorial, ‘. * or Passage Drift Current, origi: ** nating to the south-west of Aus. tralia, flowing northwards to the Tropic of Capricorn, then turning to the west and sweeping across the ocean to the north of Madagascar; and the Mozambique current, a continuation of the preceding, but far more powerful and rapid, having a velocity of nearly Six miles an hour in some parts, and flowing through the Mozambique Channel to the south extremity of Africa. VIII. THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES W. Pa?'t I. SINCE the time of Charlemagne, the great founder of the German empire, who died at Aix-la-Chapelle in 814, no king had possessed such an extent of territory as that which, in the first half of the sixteenth century, acknow- ledged the sway of the great Emperor Charles W. This mighty ruler is, during more than thirty- five years, the most prominent personage on the stage of the world; and the history of Charles is the history of Europe. Nothing in } the outward appearance of the great emperor indicated the unwearied activity #. the acuteness of his mind. º: . is portraits, as painted by old º Lucas Kranach and others, exhibit (1500-1558), a melancholy countenance, “sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought”—the face of a maan weary of life and its burdens; nor do they greatly belie the feeling of the ruler whom they represent. For Charles undertook a task too great for a man to carry through, and indeed impossible in the century in which he lived. His great aim was to give unity once more to a dismembered empire and a shattered church; to restore to the tarnished imperial crown its pristine lustre, and once more to raise the imperial sceptre as the defender of the papal chair; to be in Europe what that great Charles had been who founded the German empire seven centuries before. But the clock of the world could not thus be put back. Intelligence and the spirit of liberty were irresistible ; and the universal monarchy of which he dreamt was not to be established in Europe even by his untiring energy and perseverance. And thus in the great objects of his life he failed. That Charles was a man of great and rare ability, is undeniable. Close and taciturn, he kept his plans to himself, and followed them out perseveringly through years of difficulty and discouragement. Sagacious in divining the thoughts and characters of men, he listened readily to the suggestions of grave and ex- perienced statesmen; deliberate and far-seeing, he readily took advantage of the errors com- mitted by his enemies; and in pursuing his ends used every means, even duplicity and falsehood. The extent of his dominions was enormous. The marriage of his paternal grand- parents, Maximilian of Austria and Mary, daughter and heiress of Charles the Bold of Burgundy, gave him the inheritance of the great Austrian territories and of the Nether- Character of Charles W. lands. To the Netherlands he succeeded in his early years, at the death of º his father Philip the Handsome ; i vast 0IIllillonS, and in 1519 the death of his grand- father Maximilian put him in possession of the Austrian inheritance. A grand legacy, that of the great Spanish monarchy, fell to him at the death of Ferdinand of Aragon, his maternal grandfather ; for Ferdinand and his queen Isabella of Castile were the parents of that unhappy Joanna, who was wedded to Phili the Handsome, and whose grief at the deat of her husband darkened into incurable mad- ness. The beautiful kingdom of Naples and Sicily, and the wealthy and fruitful lands lately discovered in the West India Islands and the mainland of America, filled up the measure of a kingdom of which it could with truth be said that the sun never set upon it. But many difficulties and dangers were con- nected with the government of this vast empire, consisting of various . nations, each with its separate : manners, customs, and preju- dices. In the Netherlands the great commercial 248 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ' * cities jealously watched every action of the ruler; for the citizens were rich, turbulent, and extremely tenacious of their municipal Tights, and ready to revolt on very slight pro- vocation ; in Spain a haughty nobility stood frequently arrayed against the power of the throne; Naples and Sicily lay open to the attacks of those corsairs who for centuries were the terrors of the Mediterranean coasts; Austria was continually menaced by the sword of the Turks; and in Germany the princes and lords were filled with suspicion and dislike at the prospect of an imperial rule that might interfere with their individual independence and authority. Thus the reign of Charles was spent in contests in which the great extent of his territories was rather a disadvantage to Maximilian of Austria half a century before, had laid the foundation of a bitter feud between the Toyal houses of France and Austria, which had been carried on from generation to generation. The Austrian and the French monarchies had both increased in power and importance; and, each aimed at Supremacy on the continent of Europe. With this supremacy the title of “Emperor of Germany” was necessarily asso- ciated ; and both Charles and Francis accord- ingly employed every influence. each to secure. his own election. The two princes publicly disavowed all hostile feeling in ... * this rivalry, but each was bitterly ºvalry with incensed against the other ; and Fº I, of when the choice of the electors fell Iſan C6, upon Charles, Francis endeavoured to weaker, rº. #: - Šliūſāpīj; º ..?. jºſ --> º ºzº fi # #I ROME, SHOWING ST. PETER'S AND THE CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO. him than a help ; and the energy and perse- verance he displayed in his various enterprises failed to secure him complete success in one. The reign of Charles naturally falls into three great divisions—each including an im- portant series of events. These divisions comprise respectively— his wars with Francis I. Of France, his wars with the Turks and Moors, and the great internal war with his own vassals, the Protestant princes of Germany. Of the war with Francis the causes are to be sought in the natural rivalry between the two monarchs, and the conflicting interests of the territories they governed. The scizure of the Burgundian province in France by Louis XI., and the marriage of Mary of Burgundy with Divisions of his reign, the new emperor by open OT covert alliances with every enemy of the Austrian house ; while Charles himself considered the weakening of France a paramount necessity for his own safety. Under such conditions peace could not long be maintained. Each of the two monarchs set up a claim to territories held by the other. Francis had invaded Milan; and the victory of Marignano, gained after a murderous battle of two days, had put him in possession of that duchy, of Genoa, and a part of Lombardy. But Charles declared that the German emperor himself was feudal lord of Upper Italy. By persistent arts of diplomacy, he brought about an alliance with the pope, Henry VIII. of England, and the republic of Venice ; and a well-appointed army of German Lanzknecht? JHISTOIR Y OF MODERN TIMES. 249 was despatched across the Alps under Frunds- berg, Schärtlin, and other approved leaders, to Tecover Milan for the emperor. This they effected, and Francesco Sforza became duke, as a vassal of Charles. Genoa also fell into the hands of Charles, after a victory gained at Bicocco, over Lautrec, the general of Francis, War in Ital in April 1522; and Bonnivet, the i.” leader despatched by Francis to recover Milan, failed to accom- plish his task. A great advantage to Charles in this war was the notable service rendered by the French Constable Charles de Bourbon, the greatest and richest of the French nobles. Enraged at the injustice of the king, who, partly at the instigation of his mother Louisa of Savoy, threatened Bourbon with the loss of º '… w? ... i. £.3%tº: :-- #|| źeº 2^32 ºzº #!º ãº: “...º. &: 2 2. ~~& K’ º ,” % jºi. i. Tºšº S. Sº *i; - | º * ºn 1 t §§ §: Rºß" º "6 SººHº ; [. & § t º §§ºlº Šiš-štå ºs. :Sº - *, “SE& 3. ſº a º ºf 2 - §§ §§ :Sºº º- §: < †º -> - rººf º " 2 º' Fºº F == Fº D. §§ * ºrd º # - - - ºr º-w ºb ºr turn in favour of Francis. The league formed by Charles had been dissolved. England had fallen off through the instigation of Wolsey, who had persuaded his master to join with Charles, hoping to gain the papal crown for himself, and now to his anger and mortification found for a second time another candidate preferred to him. The pope, Clement VII., declared himself neutra in the combat ; and Francis, with a larger and better appointed army than ever, had renewed the war in Lombardy, and laid siege to Pavia. Bourbon and the Spanish leader Pescaro succeeded in assembling a new army, and hastened to the relief of the besieged city. But the hireling soldiers demanded their pay, which the emperor was unable, there and then, to give. They * - "rx, S --- X → Y.-- * * * * .* §. º - §§ {...} & £º. jº § º t Nºl'. ...&# º FLO Bls NCR. a large part of his possessions, the Constable conspired against Francis; and on the discovery of his proceedings fled from France and offered his sword to Charles against his own king. Charles gladly accepted the service of a leader already famous for warlike skill ; and Bourbon, at the head of an army of mercenaries, drove the Swiss levies of Francis back across the Alps, and had actually invaded France, when a repulse inflicted by the citizens of Marseilles put an end for a time to his operations by bringing about the dispersal of his army. It was during Bonnivet's retreat that Bayard, “the knight without fear and without re- proach,” was killed, fighting bravely for his Ing. At the beginning of 1525, fortune seemed to then clamoured to be led to battle, hoping to indemnify themselves by the plunder of the rich French camp. A mistaken feeling of chivalry induced Francis to accept the offered challenge ; and on the 25th of February, 1525, the celebrated battle of Pavia was - fought. Bourbon and Frundsberg *: :* led the attack of the German **** º army. Francis and his men defended them- Selves valiantly, but in vain. Ten thousand of his army were slaim or drowned in the Ticino, the brave Bonnivet perishing among them. Francis and his ally, Henry d'Albret, king of Navarre, were obliged to surrender themselves as prisoners to the victor; and then he wrote to his mother, Louisa of Savoy, that memorable letter in which the royal captive told in proud 250 THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTRUCTOR. mournful words how all was lost excepting honour. This victory at once reversed the position of affairs. Charles, lately threatened with grave e tº disaster, was now the most formi- ‘ºptivity ºf dable potentatein Europe: Francis Francis I was in his power; and intoxicated with success, he meditated a scheme of uni- versal dominion, in which his late rival should be a vassal king dependent upon his favour. Cautious and cool, he for a time maintained an appearance of moderation in the face of the startled kingdoms of Europe ; but he treated Francis with a harshness that over-reached itself and excited the indignation of foreign courts. He imposed such hard conditions upon his captive as the price of peace, that the unfortunate king at first rejected mºs them with scorn; and only after ** a captivity of almost a year did Francis sign the treaty of Madrid, after hand- ing a secret protest to some of his followers, declaring that his signature was given under compulsion, and that he did not consider himself bound by it. The sacrifices exacted from him were enormous. He was to cede Burgundy to Charles, to give up all pretensions to Milan and all Italian territory, to relinquish the suzerainty of Flanders and Artois, to restore Bourbon to all his possessions, to give up the cause of the King of Navarre, and to leave two of his sons as hostages in the power of his enemy. That such a treaty would be kept could hardly be expected. The hardness of the conqueror defeated his own object, and roused the indignation of Europe against the wnscrupulous prince who could triumph. So ungenerously over a fallen enemy. firTHERTO we have only shown how to express a sum of money in units of a lower denomi- nation than that in which it is given (i.e., we have shown how to express pounds in terms of shillings, and shillings in terms of pence, and So on). But frequently it is necessary to do just the opposite of this, and express pence in terms of shillings, shillings in terms of pounds, and so Oll. For example: Express 17221 farthings in pounds, shillings, and pence. In other words, find how many pounds, shillings, and pence will make the same sum as 17221 farthings. 4)17221 12)4305—remr. 1. 20)358—remr. 9. 17 – remr. 18. Now it requires 4 farthings to make 1 penny; ... clearly to find how many pence there are in 17221, we must divide 17221 by 4. This gives us 4305 as quotient, and a remainder 1 (i.e., 17221 farthings = 4305 pence and 1 farthing. Again, there are 12 pence in 1 shilling ; ... to find the number of shillings in 4305 pence we must divide 4305 by 12. This gives us the quotient 358 and remainder 9 (i.e., 4305 pence = 358 shillings and 9 pence). Again, to find how many pounds there are in 358 shillings, we must divide 358 by 20. This gives us the quotient 17 and the remainder 18 (i.e., 358 shillings = 17 pounds and 18 shillings). Thus we see that 17221 farthings=4305 pence and 1 farthing. =358 shillings and 9 pence and 1 farthing. = 17 pounds and 18 shillings and 9 pence and I farthing, which may be written £17 18s. 9}d.* The answer, we observe, is made up of the last quotient, and the several remainders, 18, 9, and 1. Example: Reduce 865 halfpence to pounds, shillings, and pence. *º-º 12)432–1 . . i.e., 865 halfpence = 432 pence *msºmºsºms and 1 halfpenny =4323d. 20)36 —0 . . . i.e., 432 pence =36 shillings. 1–16 . . . i.e., 36 shillings = 1 pound and 16 shillings. Hence 865 halfpence = £1 16s. 0}d. Here, as in the last example, the answer is made up of the last quotient (1) and the several remainders. By carefully comparing these examples with the following rule we shall be able to under- stand the Rule for Reduction of a quantity expressed in any given denominations to an equivalent quantity expressed in higher denomi- nations. Rule:—Divide the given number by the number of units of its denomination which it takes to make one unit of the next higher denomination, and note the remainder. Treat the quotient in the same way, noting the re- mainder, and so on. The last quotient and the several remainders will form the equivalent sum expressed in higher denominations. Thus in the above example the given quan- tity is expressed in halfpence. The next higher denomination is pence, and as it takes 2 half- pence to make 1 penny, we divide the given number 865 by 2. Again, the quotient 432 is expressed in pence. The next higher denomination is shillings, and as it takes 12 pence to make one shilling, we divide the 432 by 12; and so on with each successive quotient. N.B.—As the two kinds of reduction are exactly the converse one of the other, the cor- rectness of any result obtained by either rule can be tested by applying the other rule to reduce this result back again to its original form. Thus by applying the first rule to the * Compare this example with the first example in Reduction. FREWOH PROWUNCIATION. 251 result in the last example we can reduce the #1 16s. 0; d. back again to halfpence ; and if our work has been correct all through, it ought to reduce to 865 halfpence. Jºacercises. 1. How many pounds, shillings, and pence are there in each of the following sums — 565g. ; 384d. ; 87658. ; 9765q.; 8765421d. ; 968543s. 2. In 37680 threepenny-pieces, how many shillings are there? How many sovereigns? 3. If a fruiterer buy 1000 oranges at three farthings each, how many pounds, shillings, and pence must he pay? 4. If a farmer sells 100 geese at 3s. 6d. a head, and 200 chickens at 1s. 3d. a head, and out of the proceeds buys 10 dozen of wine at 1s. 6d. per bottle, what surplus has he 7 5. How much will three halfpence a day amount to in 7 years? And if Sundays be omitted, what difference will it make 7 Answers: 1. 11s. 9}d. ; £1 12s. ; £438 5s. ; £10 8s. 53d. ; £36522 11s. 9d. ; £48427 3s. 2. 9420s. ; 471 SOVs. 3. £3 2s. 6d. 4. £21. 5. £15 19s, 4%d. ; difference £2 5s. 6d. sº tº rº º *: º ={ WIII. DIPHTHONGS. § 51. It has already been mentioned (§ 2, Jºem.) that by diphthong the French under- stand a double sound uttered in one single effort of the voice, or syllable. This is the proper diphthong. Grammarians call improper diph- thongs those combinations of two or three vowels which produce one sound only, and which in these pages we call compound vonels (see § 30). It is with the proper diphthongs that we are dealing in this chapter. They divide themselves into two classes: those which, in whatever kind of composition they may appear, remain always one syllable; and those which are always scanned as two syllables when they appear in poetry, although they form but one syllable in prose. The diph- thong oi, for example, which offers the two sounds ou and Či, blended in such a manner that the one is scarcely discernible from the other, is never split into two syllables, whether in prose or in verse. Le roi boit, the king drinks, will never be pronounced le row-a bou-a, Inor could des chiens dévorants, ravenous dogs, be ever read des chi-ins. But Diane, lion, ruine would invariably and respectively pre- sent three, two, three syllables, in poetry : Di-a-me, li-on, ru-i-me. To dwell too long on the first of these syllables would be intolerable to delicate ears, even in poetry; to do so at all in colloquial speech would be betraying a pro- Vincial origin. —s In this stanza, taken from a poem by A. de Musset— “Tu les as vus, les view.x manoirs De Cette ville aux palais noirs Qui fut Florence, Plus ennuyeuse que Milan, Oü, du movns, quatre ou cinq fois l’an, Cerrito danse,”— there are four different diphthongs, ieu, oi, wi (wyew standing for vi + ieu), and oin (nasal, See § 50), not one of which would be separated into two syllables. The following extract however, contains several diphthongs which are treated as forming two syllables:— “Tempé, séjour célèbre, 6 magique vallon 1 Où l’eau de Sperchius, d'Amphryse et de Pénée, D'ombrages immortels roulait environmaée. L’Olympe entes bosquets vit errer tous ses dieux; Pan qui sut animer des joncs mélodveua ; Diane au Carquois d'or, déesse bocagére, Qui,” etc. Le Fontanes. The syllables chius, dieva (in mélodieva), and Diane are read ki-us', di-eua, Di-ane. It will be observed that whereas dievac remains a proper diphthong, the same syllable in mélo- dieva, is reckoned as two syllables. The same apparent anomaly is exhibited in these lines of Victor Hugo: “Alors le mort sortit du sépulcre ; ses pieds Des bandes du lunceul étalient encor lićs.” Read pié, but li-6. “Mais Eviradnus sent qu'on l’attaque en arrière, Se tourne, empoigne et tord la lame mewrtriere.” Give three syllables to arrière (ar-riè-re), and four to meurtrière (meur-tri-à-re). These differences are not arbitrary; they rest. On an etymological basis which it would be beyond our province to examine here ; but it is a safe rule to say that those diphthongs which appear in verbs and in their derivatives are treated as two syllables in verse. A care- ful study of a single page of poetry will prove more useful here than the most elaborate rules. From what precedes, it is evident that in poetry vowels are much separated from each other, and that the number of proper diph- thongs there is very limited indeed. Oratory, in this respect, is not unlike poetry; but it is in ordinary conversation that vowels are made to glide more or less smoothly into one another. In prose, for example, miais, silly, possesses more the character of a diphthong than je miais, I was denying ; déesse blends less readily than liesse, and nouaient than fouet; but to all intents and purposes those words present true diphthongs in colloquial French. § 52. Abandoning the strict classification of the diphthongs as given in the Remark of § 2, we append here, in alphabetical order, most of the vowel combinations which are met with in French, and by figured pronunciation it will be easily discovered—(1) which are improper diphthongs (vel compound von-els); (2) which are proper diphthongs both in verse and in prose; (3) which present the character of double sylla- bles in verse, but proper diphthongs in everyday prose. aa = a and a + a. For examples see $17. aé = a + e. Raphaël, Raphaello (ra-pha-el), Gaëte, Gaeta (ga-et’). The name of Madame de Staël, the authoress of Corinne and l’Alle- "magne, is read Stal. 252 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. aë=a+é. Gypaete, golden vulture (gy-pa-et'). aé=a+é. Aérien, atmospherical (a-6-rien), Israélite, Israelite (i-sra-6-lit'). ae = €. See § 30. aï = almost the English i in prose. Maïs, maize (mis'). The a and i sounds are, how- ever, not quite so close as in the English i, and they are still more apart in Jamaique, Jamaica, and others. In verse aſ always = a + i : “Ah! le Vautour larmoie et le caiman pleure.” Victor Hugo. Ah! le vau-tour lar-moi et le ca-à-man pleur'. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12. It is seen, therefore, that 7 constitutes one of the twelve syllables of the alea andrine or epic bine quoted. ai = e and é (see § 31). For its sound in connection with liquid l, cf. § 31 d and § 67. ai = €. See § 32. aO = a + O. Cacao, cocoa (ca-ca-0), chaos, chaos (ka-08), Aoste, Aosta (a-ost’), Laocoon (la- 0-60-on). Curaçao and Saône are pronounced eu-ra-gó, sån'. For the grammatical term aoriste, the Académie has yielded to the School practice, and no longer recommends the Sound oriste ; say, therefore, a-o-riste. In Jaon, Laon, paon, taon, a0 = a. See § 44 a. aOu = a + ou. Aoûter, to cause to ripen (a-ow-ter), caoutchouc, India-rubber (ca-ow- tehow), Raoul, Ralph (ra-owl). Août, August, is pronounced oil. The spelling raout, rout, although some yet pronounce ra-out,' the sound rout’ is recommended. Soãl is pro- nounced sow. aii = a + u. Esai (é-za-u), Sail (sa-ul). au = 6. See § 33. ay = e, oftener é + i. See § 34. éa = € + a. Féal, trusty (fé-al), il gréa, he rigged (gré-a). ea = a, because here e is merely a euphonic (or else an etymological) letter affecting the Sound of the gutturals c and g. Douced tre, sweetish (dow-sät,”), rougeåtre, reddish (row- zhātr.), je longeais, I was skirting (lon-zhè). It will be observed that e after the c is re- placed in the majority of cases by the cedilla. See § 9. éau =é + 6. Fléaw, Scourge (flé-6), préau, playground or prison yard (pré-6). eau = 6. See § 35. ée = € at the end of a word : marée, tide (ma-ré). This is true of both prose and verse, with this difference—that, in poetry, the sound é is lengthened at the end of the line, or even a faint whisper of a slender e (see § 20) is observable : ſ “On serencontre, 6 choc hideux les deux armées, Se heurtent, de la méme épouwante enflammées.” W. Hugo. In singing, Ée would, at the end of a line, form two distinct syllables, in which the e mºute becoming the e slender, would occasionally be dwelt upon almost as long as the syllable Saoul, drunk, etc., is now discarded; and formed by é : gº sº- *:- - • --ºs- #2-##= 2–0–2 62. FrºPº-2–EEENESF-C-F ——e- &T-Tº. 35IFT. Tº _sº A&R_ _ _t º- *=====E====E a—- | Tºrº º' Lºº TT I #4–1 - H-H-e-Hº-E [TI- * |T| --- De - puis un an vous é - tes né - E, Hé - lo - † - se, le -- *:-, H-T-Z-E- *-e-º-F =~–2- -*--> # ºT] l D. * * i - e-Eas - I-3- =#EEEE º H---g h E-Gº a-i-º-tº-sº 1– -º-º-º-º: Eä l –F– © - -a-H i 2. {I t a l— à *— &=– E E-e E-- H-HE-s: º H E-H •) sa - vez - Vous? C'est là vo - tre plus bel - le an - né - E, etc. As the pause for breath must be taken at the end of the line, the syllable e is diminished to 2-> that extent. The following example presents a much Smoother Setting :— * Fs-Fe-N-N-NF -—R—- | I * º […] s Tººlſ { * * Nº STT - 2–2=E========= -] t T T- | Tº TTTTT Tºº- ==E= E+*E=E=E===== ———L–s T ſ * y cº © O º e atº ~&t } Quand tu chan - tes ber - cé - E Le soir, en-tre mes bras, O _--> -?--> -N-às T Nº N–I T T *— T. £ºf-Hº-HELFEE-Hº E–F H ——---—— E-- ——--&-I | | Ti •) T- º r sº En-tends-tu A word Cf the nature of marée, née, année, etc., would never present itself in the course of a line, unless it were followed by another word beginning with a vowel or J. mute, in which case the e mute of ée would entirely blend with the initial syllable of that next word. Words ending like armées and enflam- mées, in ées, would never be met with in the body of a line at all. When ée is followed by the final and inarticulate consonants r and z, ma pen-sé - E, Qūi, etc. it is pronounced as two syllables, viz., 3 + 6 : agrée", to agree (a-gré-é), rous agréez, you agree (vou-za-gré-é). Préealister is pro- nounced pré-ég-zis-té. But ée = 6 + æ when it is followed by a double consonant and e mute, or simply by one final, and at the same time articulated, consonant. néelle, real, pr. ré-èl 'réel, real, pr. ré-èl déesse,goddess,pr.dé-ès' | Béthléem,pr.bé-tlé-em'. éen = & H in ; as européen, European (ew-ro- L-4TIN. 253 ſpé-in), moréen, Morean (mo-ré-in); but euro- péenne, moréenne, as above, viz., eu-ro-pé-ēnſ, mo-ré-èn'. See § 46 c. ei=è. See § 36. eo =o, because e is here used euphonically: geole, jail (zhol'), plongeon, plunge (plom/-zhon). éO = € + O. Géographie, geography (gè-0), ^éophyte, neophyte (né-0). eoi=oi (see oi below). Ex., Seoir, to sit, and derivatives (soir). In the following e is merely euphonic : bougeoir, candlestick (bou-zhoir), Qageoire, fin (na-zhoir), etc. éu = € + u. Ex, réussir, to succeed (ré-u- sir). Phocéus (sé-us'). eu = e. See § 37. ey = €. See § 38. ia = a proper diphthong wherein the two sounds i and a are discernible, in poetry as in prose: diable, devil (dia-blº), fiacre, cab (fia-cr'), liard, farthing (liar'), piaffer, to strut (pia-fé), In most words, however, ia presents a proper diphthong in prose and a double syllable in verse : bestial, animal (bè-stial and bé-sti-al), diadème, crown (dia-dèm' and di-a-dé-me), mariage, marriage (ma-riazh and ma-7'i-a-ge), noviciat, apprenticeship, and all in ciat (mo-vi- cia and no-vi-ci-a). In verbs and their deriva- tives the double syllable is accentuated some- what in prose also : il cria, he shouted (eri-a), criard, clamorous (cri-ar), mous priámes, we prayed (pri-ám'). iai presents the same characteristics as ia. It is a proper diphthong in both prose and verse in but very few words: biais, shift, is pr. biè:— ~. “Woyons, voyons un peu par quel biais, de quel air.” l 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ll 12. Mol. The derivatives of biais, however, present a double syllable in the combination iai. In most words idi offers a proper diphthong in prose and a double syllable in verse: breviaire, bre- viary (bré-vièr' or bré-vi-à-re), liaison, connec- tion (liè-son or li-e-son). In verbs and their derivatives the double syllable is somewhat accentuated in prose also : je miais, I was deny- ing (ni-è). iau = ió, a proper diphthong wherein the two sounds i and 6 are audible: bestiaua, cattle (běstió). Few cases. In baronniaua, coloniaua, etc., say ba-ro-mió, co-lo-nió in prose, but ba-ro- rvi-6, co-lo-ni-6, in verse. ian = a proper nasal diphthong in a very small number of words; the simple vowel i and the nasal vowel an are both heard : dian tre, devil (diant"), viande, meat (viand'). Cf. § 2, Rom. 3, and § 50). Amiante, amian- , thus, coriandre, coriander, fiancé, bridegroom, present proper diphthongs in prose and double syllables in verse ; whereas priant, praying, riant, laughing, triangle, triangle, etc., being either verbal or compound forms, do not blend so readily in prose as amiante, etc. iè = a proper diphthong in many words, when both the sounds i and ê are perceptible. Pronounce, therefore, bannière, banner, fièvre, fever, lumière, light, nièce, niece, etc., ba-nièr', fièvr', lu-mièr', nies', etc. The following, being verbs or verbal derivatives, present double syl- lables, which, as it has been mentioned in con- nection with other combinations, are more marked in verse than in prose: ils crièrent, they shouted (cri-er'), prière, prayer (pri-er"): “Remplit tous les esprits d'aigreurs si meurtrières, (tri-eres) Et fit du sang chrétien couler tant de rivières.” (ri-vières). Boileau. ié = a proper diphthong in many words, when both sounds i and é are discernible. In verse, as in prose, therefore, read amitié, friendship, pitié, pity, etc., ami-tie, pi-tiâ, etc. Anaciété, anguish, piété, piety, satiété, surfeit, are read an-ai-6-té, pi-é-té, Sa-ti-é-té; the verbal form ié alsº presents the character of a double syl- lable, though more markedly in verse than in prose : lié, tied (li-é), marié, married (ma-ri-á). ie =ié, a proper diphthong both in verse and prose when it is followed by a final inarticu- late d: pied, foot (pié), il sied, it becomes (sié), je m'assieds, I sit down (ma-sió). In verbal forms iez constitutes a proper diphthong when i itself belongs to the termination, as vous auriez, you would have (au-rié), and a double syllable when i belongs to the stem of the verb, as vous vous mariez, you marry (ma-ri-é). NOTE.-iiez = i + ié = vous vous mariñez, you were marrying (ma-ri-ié). When ie is followed by a final, it becomes a proper diphthong: acier, steel (a-siè), dossier, back of a seat (do-sié), prunier, plum-tree (prº-nié). In verbs in ier there would always be two syllables in verse and a proper diphthong in prose: “J’avais woulu tantôt vous parler de Clarice Quelqu'un de vos amis m'en est venu PRIER (pri-é). Dites-moi, seriez-vous pour elle à MARIRR P (mu-ri-á).” Corneille. Should ié be followed by a double consonant and e mute, or by one final and audible con- sonant, it would become, both in verse and prose, a proper diphthong with the sound iè: antiemme, anthem (an-tièm'), miette, crumb (mièt), fier, proud (fièr'), miel, honey (mièl). E-3 Eºs:: º: º É * # VIII. THE THIRD DECLENSION (continued). Greek Nouns of the Third Declension are— Singular. N. V. lampas (f) a lamp, O lamp A. lampada a lamp G. lampadis of a lamp E). lampadi to a lamp A. lampade by a lamp Plural. N. W. lampades A. lampadas G. lampadum D. A. lampadibus lamps, O lamps lamps of lamps to or bylamps 254 ^TH E UIVIVERSAL, IVSTÆ UOTOR. Singular. IN. V. A. poema (m.) a poem, O poem G. poematis of a poem D. poemati to a poem A. poemate by a poem Plu?'a?. N. V. A. poemata, poems, O poems G. poematum (or óm) of poems D. poematis (or tibus) to poems A. poematibus by poems Like 7a^npas decline— Pallas (f.), Minerva Dryas (f.), Dryad Lesbias (f.), a Lesbiam Womaan Like poema decline :— Schema (n.), a fashion Diadema (n.), a fillet Epigramma (n.), an inscription Voeabulary of Words in the Third Declen- sìon, to be lea^'nt by heart :— 1. Declime like lapis— I Homo (m.), g. hominis, a mari Eons (m.), g. pontis, a bridge Princeps (m.), g. primcipis, a chief Macedo (m.), g. Macedonis, a Macedoniam Consul (m.), g. consulis, a consul Dux (m.), g. ducis, a leader Like e0')'o)'— Auctor (m.), g. auctoris, an author Dolor (m.) g. doloris, pain Mos (m.), g. moris, manner Amor (m.), g. amoris, love Sol (9).), g. solis, the sum Orator (m.), g. Oratoris, an OratOr 2. Decline like ovis— Amussis (f.), a rule Sitis (f.), thirst Avis (f.), a bird Turris (f.), a, tower. Navis (f.), a ship Clavis (f.), a key ILike virgo— Arbor (f.), g. -oris, a, tTee Imago (f.), g. -inis, an image Consuetudo (f.), g. -inis, custOm Hiems (f.), g. hiemis, winter Erons (f.), g. -dis, a leaf Urbs (f.), g. -urbis, city 3. DecJine like qma/'e— Ancile (n.), sacred shield Altare (n.), a high altar Βastile (m.), a spear Cubile (m.), a bed Rete (n.), a met Sedile (n.), a seat Like momem— Agmen (m.), a, tToop Corpus (n.), g. -oris, the body Crimen (n.), a charge Flumen (n.), a river Gramen (n.), grass Lumem (n.), light Tempus (n.), g. -oris, time. Remember, also, that mon, = not, et = and, nec amd neque = meither . . . nOT, hic = here, nunc = now, unquam, = ever, ^^Unquam, (^on, mot, vnquam, ever) = never, est = is, sunt = are, erit = shall be (singulaT), erunt (plural) = will be. Self-Eæamination, Questioms and Eacereises. What are the nominative endings, and what the gemitive endimgs, of mouns of the third de- clension ? Which endings are generally mascw- 7êne, which feminime, and whicb meute)'? Declime lapis, error, ovis, ^wbes, virgo, mare, animal, nomen, bos, vis. What mouens make the abl. singular in i, and the nom. plural in ia ? Give examples. How does the meaming of vis in the singular differ from vires in the plural? Declime aer, Tiber, poema, and lampas, and state what is peculiar in each. Write out the voca- bulary of nouns in the Third DeclensiOm. Translate into English :— Secundum hanc consuetudinem est, dux virorum. Hæc carmina sunt penes Consules. In turribus urbium erunt milites hujus primcipis. In poematibus sunt mores hominum. Nunquam per vires hominum erit gloria. Homines neque solis neque hiemis auctOTes sunt. O diademata, hujus oratoris et hujus consulis in hac urbe ! Hæ erunt secundum amussim horum ducum. In his altaribus erunt cOrpOra principum. Hæc unquam erunt in hac urbe. Urbe sunt ancilia, et hastilia. Per hæc maria erunt retia. Agmina, hominum sunt neque in his pontibus, neque im his navibus. Oratores erumt auctores morum hominum. Sitis erit cOrpori. Con- sulibus non erunt hæc agmina hominum. In arbore est clavis urbis. Neque flumina, neque gramina erunt in urbibus hominum. O tempora et mores hominum ! Est secundum hoc schema poematum. Per hanc lampada Dryadis. Translate into Latin :— Now these poems will ever be in this city. On account of this thing never will there be thirst to this body. O light of men | By these poems of the leaders of men. These Consuls were neither the Chiefs nor the leaders of the Macedonians. Through the pain of the body there will be thirst. The birds are om the tower. Here are the Seats of the birds. Through this winter the troops wf$] be in the city. On these high altaTs will be the light of the sum, ConceTning these bridges theTe will be a charge agaimst the Consul. Into the Tiber. . The love of paim is here. Through the key of the city. The animals of the city aTe mot birds. The images of the trees will be On the sea, and om the river. The seat of the Comsul will never be in the city of the Macedonians. Neither pain nor thirst will be the custom in the city. Through time there will be a custom to mem. A rule will be fOr the ships and the bridges. The leaves of the trees are On the grass. The sum is the author of light and leader of time. Here is the lamp of MineTva ! EIeTe is the strength of the Oxen. LESSON IX.—TEIIE FOURTH DECLENSION. The nominative singular endings of nouns in the fourth declension are in us, generally ASTRONOMY. 255 masculine, and in w neuter. Names of trees, as laurus, pinus, and others, and domus, are feminine. Singular. N. gradus (m.) a step W. gradus, O step A. gradum, a step G. gradās, of a step D. gradui, to a step A. gradu, by a step Plural. N. gradus, steps W. gradus, O steps A. gradus, steps G. graduum, of steps D. gradibus l or ſto steps A. ::::::::: -ubus {; steps Singular. N. cornu (n.), a horn W. cornu, O horn A. cornu, a horn G. cornu, of a horn T), cornu, to a horn A. Cornu, by a horn Pluº'al. N. cornua horns W. cornua O horns A. cornua horns G. cornium of horns D. cornibus or to horns A. cornibus -ubus lºwith horns DOMUS, feminine. (This is a peculiar declension, partly of the second and partly of the fourth.) Singular. N. domus a house W. domus O house A. domum a house G. domas of a house D. domui or domo to a house A. domo in a house Plum'al, N. domus houses W. domus O houscs domus or A. } domos ! houses domuum or G. } domorum ! of houses D. domibus to houses A. domibus in houses Observe that domi, at home, is an adverb, Note that the following words prefer itbus to ibus as the ending of the dative and ablative plural : arcus (m), a bow, artus (m.), a joint, ſportus (m.), a harbour, partus (m.), travail, quercus (f. as the name of a tree: remember the names of trees are generally feminine), an oak, tribus (f), a tribe, acus (f), a needle, veru (n.), a Spit. Wocabulary of Words of the Fourth Declen- sion, to be learnt by heart:— Like gradus. Exercitus (m.), an army Motus (m), a motion Metus (m.), a fear Risus (m.), a laugh Jussus (m.), a command Fluctus (m.), a wave Like com"nu. Gelu (n.), frost Genu (n.), a knee Veru (m.), a Spit Tonitru (n.), thunder Like domus. Laurus, a laurel. Self. Eacamination Questions and Eaxercises. What are the nominative and what the geni- tive ending of nouns of the fourth declension ? and what the genders generally signified by their nominative endings 7 Decline gradus, cornu, domus. What words prefer iſ bus to ibus as the ending of the dative and ablative plural Write out the vocabulary of words to |be declined after the fourth declension, with their English equivalents and genders. Translate into English :— Per hunc gradum. Dolor erit in hoc genu. Erit nunquam motus hujus exercitãs. Neque metus neque risus est in his exercitibus. Nunquam hic fluctus erit circum hang domum. Domi non est. In hoc portu unquam erunt hae naves. Infra hanc quercum est portus. Propter gelu hujus hiemis non erit motus horum exer- cituum, Im hac tribu nom erit Tisus. Haec acus non est veru. Hi fluctus nunquam erunt extra hunc portum hujus urbis. O genua consulis et ducis huius exercitus in urbe principum ! Dux Macedonum non est princeps hujus exercitus. Translate into Latin :— In the horns of this harbour are a laurel and an oak. Concerning the commands of the consul there will be laughter. There is fear in this army. There will be frost in the Oak tree. Near to this laurel opposite to this house. At home there will be fear. Concerning the thunder above this army. In this tribe there will not be fear. The motion of the waves in this harbour is the cause of laughter (render “a laugh') to the army. It is the thunder of the God. In these joints is the frost of feat. A needle will be in the knce of this (man). The steps of the army are in motion towards this city. The thunder is through the houses and through the harbour of the city. Beneath these waves is the house (or home) of fishes. IX. WHEN the sun was studied with the telescope a number of small black spots were discovered on its surface, these spots being of most irregular size and form. The discovery seems to have been independently made, towards the end of 1610 and beginning of 1611, by no less than fouT Spots on the Sll Ils 256 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. observers : John Fabricius, a German astro- from two or three seconds to a minute or more, nomer; Scheiner, a Jesuit and professor of mathematics at Ingolstadt in Bavaria; Galileo in Italy; and Hariot, the celebrated English mathematician. The discovery excited much astonishment, and many philosophers were incredulous, for it was at the time supposed that the very nature of the sun was irrecon- cilable with the existence of Solar spots. To these early observers the spots seemed merely irregular black marks on the surface of the sun, and they soon discovered that they were slowly moving across the Solar disc. When first seen they were small and indistinct, and moved slowly; but as they approached the centre they appeared to move faster, and seemed larger. Fabricius pointed out that this indicated that the solar spots were actual markings on the surface of the sun, which had a uniform rotation on its axis, for then the ordinary rules of perspective would produce the changes noted in the apparent size and rate of motion of the spots. Galileo made the time of the rotation of the Sun about 26 days, and remarked that it rotated about an axis making a small inclination with the perpendicu- lar to the ecliptic. Scheiner, who studied the solar spots for many years, made the rotation about 243 days, and found 7° for the inclina- tion of the axis to the perpendicular to the ecliptic. Modern observations make the period of the rotation 25% days and the inclination of the axis 73°. When the solar spots were more closely ob- served it was found that they were not of uniform darkness, but that they consisted of a black nucleus, surrounded by a dusky penum- bra, the latter being usually much larger than the former, and often one penumbra surrounding two or more nuclei, whilst occasionally a Spot was seen to consist of a penumbra but no nucleus. In size they were found to be very variable, ranging in diameter from a few seconds to one or two minutes of arc, the diameter of the Sun being only thirty-two minutes. In number they were very variable, sometimes only two or three being visible, and at other times several dozen could be detected, and they seemed to have a tendency to appear in groups. Fig. 32 shows a drawing of the sun covered with a great number of spots, as they appeared to the early observers, and where the size of the spots is exaggerated and the drawing very rough ; and fig. 33 shows a similar drawing of a group of spots on a larger scale, and made with a higher power, but as coarsely delineated as before. Later we shall have an opportunity of comparing with modern drawings. . It must be remarked that some of the earlier drawings are much better executed than these. Both Galileo and Scheiner remarked that the Spots seemed as a rule confined to the equatorial regions of the sun, and to be within 30° from the Solar equator. o The spots were not the only objects detected in the sun, but a number of long bright streaks were detected, and were called faculae. These faculae were brighter than the Test of the Sun, and of very variable size, having a length of Rotation of the sun, and are generally very much longer than they are broad. They are most fre- ..., quent in the neighbourhood of . the groups of Spots, and are best Ings on the Sun, seen when near the edge of the sun. The early observers also noticed that the entire surface of the sun seemed mottled or granulated in aspect, and that it was markedly brighter at the centre than at the edge. The explanation of the origin of these black spots and bright markings was a constant theme for the early astronomers, but they were unable to arrive at a Satisfactory explanation, although many wild hypotheses were advanced. Some, like Galileo, thought they were clouds; others, like Gassendi and La Hire, imagined they were opaque bodies floating on an igneous sea ; whilst yet others thought they were vol- canoes, and still a fourth School that they were apertures in a luminous atmosphere revealing the dark body of the Sun. All of these hypotheses broke down, however, when carefully compared with the results of observation. As the orbits in which Venus and Mercury revolve Tound the sun are smaller than the orbit of the earth, it is evident that they will pass at times between the sun and earth. If the orbit of the planet was in the same plane as the orbit of the earth, on every occasion that the planet passed between the earth and sun it would appear to pass over the º Sun as a black body ; but as the . tº: plane of the orbit of the planet is.” Pº inclined to the plane of the orbit of the earth, it is only when the planet is near one of its nodes when it is passing between the sun and earth that the planet will be seen to pass over the disc of the sun, and that there will occur a transit, as it is called. This has been already explained when we were considering the Solar eclipses, which are transits of the moon across the Sun. Long before the invention of the telescope, astronomers had believed that they had seen transits of Mercury across the sun, though we now know that they must have taken a solar spot for the planet, because Mercary is so small that with the naked eye it cannot be seen on the sun. But in those early days of astronomy, Mercury was supposed to be about 1' in dia- meter, and Venus perhaps twice the size. In 1629, Kepler having finished his tables of the motions of the planets, pointed out that there would be several transits of Mercury and one transit of Venus across the sun during the seventeenth century; and he drew attention to the fact that whereas transits of Mercury would Inot be uncommon, transits of Venus would be very Tare. So rare indeed are these latter that he stated that there would be only one during the seventeenth century, and only two during the eighteenth century. Finally, he predicted that both Mercury and Venus would cross the sun in 1631, the former on November 7th and the latter on December 6th. Gassendi made arrangements to watch for these phenomena at Paris; and so that he should not miss them through errors in the tables of the motions of the planets, he determined to 2. ºr ºys, ºr-see_ric **ºrsº sº. ** f waRD & Lock's UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR ~? G0NTAINS ALL WEGESSARY DIREGTIONS FOR Acquiſing PROFICIENGY { IN THE FOLLOWING AMONG 0THER SUBJECTS: Algebra. Geology. Logarithms. ANATOMY : Geometry. Machines & Machinery. Animal. German Language. Magnetism. Comparative. German Literature. MATHEMATICs: Human. Greek Language. Arithmetic. Arithmetic. Greek Literature. Algebra. Astronomy. Health. Geometry. i. , Heat. Trigonometry, &c. º History : *{ECHANICAL PHILO- Chemistry. Ancient. SOPHY : CoMMERCE: ~ Sacred. Mechanics. History. \ Mediaeval. Hydrostatics. Practice. *. Modern. Hydraulics. Drawing. . Great Britain and Pneumatics. Electricity. Ireland. Mensuration. Elocution. Hydrostatics. *- Meteorology. English Grammar. Italian Language. Mineralogy. t Italian Literature. Music. English Literature. Land-surveying. Ethnology. NATURAL HISTORY: ExPERIMENTAL PHILO- LANGUAGES: Mineralogy. sophy: Ancient— Geology. Magnetism. Latin. Botany. -- Electricity. Greek. Zoology, * Galvanism. Modern— Animal Physiology. Heat. French. Human Physiology. Light. German. Vegetable Physiology Chemistry. Italian. Comparative Ana- Sound. Spanish. tomy, &c. Meteorology, &c. &c. FINE ARTs: } Latin Language. Latin Literature. Perspective. Physiology, Animal. Drawing. Light. Physiology, Human. Perspective. Pneumatics. Sketching from Na- LITERATURE: Reading. "ture. Ancient— Shorthand. Music. *- Roman. Singing. Singing. Greek. Sketching from Nature. French Language. Modern— Sound. French Literature. English. Spanish Language. Galvanism. \ French. Spanish Literature. GeoGRAPHY : German, Trigonometry. Physical. ' Italian. Writing. Political. Spanish. Zoology. PRICE Twº NTY.FIVE CENTS MONTHLY. # NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. } N t g *º- y ". - - - -- ~! -- ~~ *-*. --~ }- L { some OPINIONS OF THE BRITISH PREss WARD AND LOCK's UniMBTSăl A. * * This Work has been reviewed by a very large number of Newspapers and Literary and Educational Periodicals throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland, and in all cases favourably, ºft The following are a few selections :- “THE WORK IS EXCELLENT, AND IT IS TO BE HOPED IT MAY MEET WITH THE POPULARITY IT DESERVES.”—The Athenaeum, S “We have waited to see the second part before expressing an opinion upon ‘Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor; or, Self-Culture for all,” and find the promise of the opening more than fulfilled now that the subjects are beginning to advance. . . . The various authors have evidently laboured to condense the greatest amount of information into their lessons, and while helping beginners, they in no way overlook the requirements of students who need higher instruction. The comprehensive excellence of the work is combined with cheap-. ness, and thus it offers an undoubted boon to those who wish to enrich their minds and improve their position by self-culture.”—London Daily Chronicle, “We are pleased with, this first part, and can imagine the wealth of advantage which many young students will gain from its use. It is well printed on good paper of a handy size. . . . . ; and useful' publication,”—The Christian orld. “The first number is a storehouse of knowledge in itself, and at the first start a good selection of subjects are dealt with. The contributors include some of the best known men in their various de- partments of knowledge. . . . . . The work pro- mises to be one difficult to excel as a means of imparting educational knowledge for everyone.”— The Derby Telegraph. “We can heartily recommend this new publica- tion to all who are desirous of self-culture; the contributions, as well as the illustrations, are all good.”—Sheffield Telegraph. A “The work, which is well got up, is an important and valuable addition to the educational literature of the day.”—Bristol Mercury. “We do not hesitate to say that the ‘Universal Instructor,’ when completed, will, to those who carefully study its pages, prove to be one of the greatest educational blessings which have emanated from any publishing firm. . . . . We should rejoice to know that this most valuable work was to be found in every family.”—Derbyshire Gazette, “We feel assured that the publication will be productive of much good, as it appears to be admir- ably adapted to the requirements of all classes of students."— Western Daily Mercury. * y ! --- ~ * ºf ºs- ºr * * -----º-º: …<>essº” r It is a very : recalls in form that marvel of cheapness and style, '' *- —w º . P * * ł } %~ º | f : ^, %. * f $. * f { IISIIIC *-*. * * º t ? \ “It promises to be a work of undoubted merit, ſ and of real value. . . . . We predict for it much acceptance by those who desire to acquire learning || and to become well-informed mien.”—The Educa- tional Chronicle. , • 3& “All the subjects are treated in an easy, simple, < clear, comprehensive manner; and from a careful perusal of the present part, we can safely recom- mend the work as one of sterling merit.”—Dundee Couzier, * “The more we see of this admirable work the '. more we think of it. Every subject is made, so clear, and is expressed in so simple and definite language, that every one may learn himself. We, know no better book for self-cultivation, and it will, form a good library in itself when completed.”--- Dundee Advertiser. x * 3, f * ...” \ “We cannot too highly praise.' Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor.' . . . . . It will be a treasure to all who wish to improve their knowledge; and the excellent oharacter of the publication is fully main- ; tained in the current issue.”—Boston Guardian, ;I’ ~ : ºv “A more useful work than this no man could provide for a son or a daughter of studious turn,”— The Chelmsford Chronicle. , , . . . . “So worthy of popular estimation does it seem to us, that we are convinced that if pne number is purchased the whole series will be taken, and it cannot be too highly spoken of.”—East Anglian, Daily Times. { ' ' , , , “The more we see of this periodical, the more deeply are we impressed with its merits.”—Dum- fries Advertiser. • | f 4. “There will 'never cease to be many fieldsånd | abundant scope for self-instruction, and always a large number of students to whom'such a work will , be a welcome boon.”—School Board Chronicle. “One of the most valuable publications that has ever issued from the press as a help and guide for , , young men in , mental education is $Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor.' . . .''. The work is . admirably and popularly edited, and ,ought to be universally appreciated.”—The Christian Union, tº “The size is to our mind the best and handiest & that could be chosen, while the printing and illus- . trations are beautifully done, and the whole part, ‘Scribner's Monthly.’”—The Farmer. t } 3 g * * .* y *. } l ** * " * •º * . ^, f $ i. X NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEws company. . . . -* J ~x. - -*_ E: - * - º-ºº-º) A LG E E R A • ANATO MY - - ARCHITECTURE ARITH METIC . ASTRONO MY -- B | O C R A PHY cº- BOOK-KEEP NC BOTANY . . . CHEMISTRY :- | ! t - * j t - º: †- º *r"ºwesºmºmºmºmºmºmºwººmººl.º - H ºr * - - - - - - - - - - ---. __ ____. Rºº-E - º º º º | [P rice 25 Cents. .* º ºw ºfes. - bºttº º ENºw...sº ------>|->>EFT" " -- " "T-E--> -->>--G->== º e s a s a cºercºº sº s D * i i i º§sº º C º i º 2. EC Cc * T & * * * Nº e º ºxº & Cº º 'º º tº S.S. Sºº i §§º º R ºB # : ; º ----------- ~~~~~~~~~~---------, - CEO GR A PHY - CEO LOGY - ... CEO METRY --> GERMAN : * * GRANMMAR . . CREEK . . . . HISTORY - - - |TAll AN ºr . LAT N . . . - LOGARTHMS LOC C MACNET ISNA - WECHANICS - NAENSURATION METEOROLOGY. MINERALOGY - MUSIC . . . . . NAVICATION & PA NT N C ºr " PENMAN SH 1 P - PERSPECTIVE PHYSICs PHYSIOLOGY " | SHORT-HAND SPAN ISH STERMENGINE SURV EY 1 N C * TRICONOMETRY K. , C º gº tº º \ *** * sº as a. atº - —-ke){- 9. JULLYºs, ILLUSTRATEDs AGENTS FOR AMERICA : THE INTERNATIONAL NEws company, 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New York. * * *** *** *** - - - - - - -------------------------- E------ * **** ºr . ------- T -"º" " " --> -- ~~~r-r:*-*-*::::- * Trºº-º-º-º-º: *º-º-º: ** * * : * * *** -- > *.* Complete in 39 Monthly Parts. THE NEW SERIAL FOR SELF-EDUCATORS. Forming the Cheapest and most Useful Work ever issued for the People. PRICE 25 CENTS, IMONTHLY. f W A R D & L O C K 'S #. NIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR: Or, Self-Culture for All. *...* With PART l. is PRESENTED GRATIS a Valuable CHART OF THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, and with PART III, a CHART illustråting the INTELLECTUAL AND MATERIAL PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. Y REcoCNISING the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exists for carefully prepared literature suited to the wants of Self-Educators, WARD, LOCK & Co. have prepared a Serial Work of an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete Ancyclopædia of Zearning, meeting the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such features as will, the Publishers confidently believe, give it a marked superiority over every similar undertaking. The comprehensive. ness of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illustrations, the convenience of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominent position. IT CANNOT BE TOO OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, for, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure, Hence maturally arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on better terms with those around, not only in business but in social life? This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR undertakes to anSWer. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is nothing short of a University at Home, and will admirably suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. At the same time, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR does not overlook the wants of those more fortunately situated. . It contains exact information on every subject likely to be useful to those able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR cover the whole field of knowledge, They extend, as will be seem from the list given on page 3, from the most elementary to the most advanced, and, taken together, form a £erfect system of Zntellectual Culture. The latest thought of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, find adequate representation; and whilst we would avoid pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in affirming that our lessons will prove eminently lively and interesting. THE WRITERS will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics with which they deal, and in nothing, the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, is the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. THE ILLUSTRATIONS are to be numbered by hundreds, and may be depended upon as accurate and authentic. BUT THE OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is not only to impart learning and make well- informed men. It has been kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable as to Jead wiser and better lives, . The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, endeavours to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making students, it ſails to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. SUCH, then, being the OBJECTS and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the Publishers confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not *-in the elevation of the people the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will be siów, to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations so elevated. “afinge all füütgā, śtung. Uſibetber for the gaite ºf Icariting or far any other reitfirſt, gfully. 4fºr ſuijateher the mutifle; that impel putt at firāt, putt intil ſerp gumi Inſic âtulip for its d'un flaitz.” r= For List of Subjects included in THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, see Aage 3, and for Opinions of the British Press, see flage 4 of this cover. º NEW YORK : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY., -- ---" * ASTRO WOMY. 257 commence his watch two days before the time predicted by Kepler. To observe the pheno- mena he admitted the Solar light into a dark room by a small aperture in its shutter, and obtained in this manner an image of the sun projected on a white screen. On the 5th of November, he was disappointed, for it rained all day; and ºn the 6th he was no more fortunate, for thoughºſt-did not rain, the sky was covered with clouds: This was not promising. Fortu- nately, on the 7th, the day which Kepler had predicted that the transit would occur, the sky turned out more promising, for though it was cloudy the clouds were broken. At about eight in the morn- ing the Sun commenced to break through the clouds, and by nine he ob- tained a distinct image of the so- lar disc. He examined it care- fully, and saw a small black spot near the bottom, but no Mercury. However, he marked the position of this spot on the screen, because he thought it might prove useful, and if the planet in its transit passed near the spot, it might be used for finding the solar parallax. . Later on he again had an opportunity of seeing the Sun free from clouds, but still mo Mercury; but to his astonishment the Small, black spot seemed to have moved. It seemed very strange, and, after marking very carefully its place, he was wondering how he could have made such a mis- take in his previous observation, when the Sun again came out. To his amazement, the spot had moved still further. There could be no doubt——no solar spot could move like that— the spot must be a planet in transit : it must be Mercury. He aroused himself instantly, and set to work to make ac- First transit of Mercury, FIG. 32.-SUN spots. watched in Germany, using a method similar to that employed by Gassendi, but making use of a larger aperture. The planet being so Small, it was not seen by them, as they em- ployed too large an aperture to see so small a body. Gassendi now prepared to observe the transit of Venus, which Kepler had predicted would Occur on the 6th December. He had stated that the planet would enter on the solar disc at a little before sunset. If, therefore, his tables were a little too early, the transit would Inot commence until after Sunset, and so would not be visible in Europe. But Gassendi had found that Kep- ler's tables of Mercury were late, and hoped that his tables of Venus might also be late, So that the latter planet would begin its transit some time before sunset; and there- fore made arrangements simi- lar to those he had found successful for the transit of Mercury. On December 4th and 5th a violent storm prevented any observations ; and on the 6th he was also disappointed, for he Only obtained occasional glimpses of the Sun, and saw no trace of Venus, though this was the day of Kepler's prediction. He felt, therefore, that he had lost the transit, unless Kepler's tables were much too early. On the 7th the sky was clear, and he watched for the planet, but entirely without success. He had missed it. Kepler's tables were a little early, and the transit had taken place during the night between the 6th and 7th. Kepler had announced that the next transit of Venus to that of 1631 would be in 1761, or 130 years later, so astronomers felt that for a century and a third they Curate observations of its path, and signalled to his assistant, who was in an- other room, to make ob- servations of the height of the sun, by which to fix the time. Unfortu- nately his assistant had not the same faith in Repler's predictions as his master, and had gone away, thinking no transit would now be seen. He was sent for, and after some delay arrived in haste and made the necessary observation, enabling Gassendi to fix 10 h. 28 m. A.M. as the time of its egress from the disc of the sum. Gassendi found from his observation that the transit occurred 4 h. 49 m. 30 s. before the time predicted by Kepler, and that instead of Mer- cury being about 60" in diameter it was not more than 20" in diameter. Although Gassendi was the only astronomer who was successful in seeing this transit of Mercury, he was not the only astronomer who watched for it ; both Schickhardt a.º.d Mostling WOL, I. º * - - -- vire, ºw” FIG. 33.−A GROUP OF SUN SPOTS. must postpone all hopes of observing a transit of Venus across the sun. In 1639 there was living at Hoole, a small Lan- cashire village not far from Liverpool, a young clergyman of the name of Jeremiah Horrocks, who was endowed with great genius, and proved himself a great astronomer, though his early death in 1641, in his twenty-second year, cut short his career. Horrocks had been carefully comparing the position assigned to the planets by Kepler's tables with their observed positions, and he found that they were moderately accurate, though often more than 15' out—not a large quantity in the state of astronomy then. He found that Kepler's tables made the planet pass close under the sun on November 24, 1639, old style (December 4, new style). Horrocks had also compared with the observations some tables constructed by the Belgian astronomer Landsberg, which had been much vaunted by 17 258 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTO.R. their author, but to his disgust he found them very far inferior in accuracy to the tables of Kepler. Horrocks was struck, however, by * ... , the fact that, according to Lands- Frºit ºf berg, on November 24, 1639, the * planet Venus would cross over the upper portion of the Solar disc, so that a transit would occur. He knew these tables of Landsberg were very often wrong, but he had found that the true place of the planet was usually between the places predicted by Kepler and Landsberg; so that he thought it was just possible that though the tables of Landsberg Ymight place the planet very much too far inorth, yet Kepler's tables might place it a fittle too far south, so that the planet might just cross the southern portion of the Sun, instead of going a little south of it, as Kepler predicted. He carefully compared the tables with the observed place of the planet, and convinced himself that this would probably be the case. brother astronomer named Crabtree, who re- sided near Manchester, and requested him to watch for the transit. The 24th of November was a fine day, though many clouds covered the sum at intervals, and Horrocks watched the sun from the time of its rising. No planet appeared by the time he had to go to church, it being a Sunday, whilst the sky became overcast with clouds. On his return, at a little after three, there seemed little chance of his obtaining a view of Venus, for the sky was still cloudy and the sun set before four. Fortunately, at about a little before the quarter, he saw a break in the clouds, which gradually approached the sun, and soon that luminary shone brightly through the gap. To his joy he saw a perfectly round large black spot just within the Sun : it was the planet Venus. He watched it gradually moving across the sun for half an hour, when the setting of the latter put a stop to further observations, the planet having moved in that interval about twice its own diameter. Its diameter he estimated at about 1' 12", which was much smaller than had been commonly supposed. Crabtree, at Broughton, near Man- chester, was also successful in seeing the planet, the Sun bursting through the clouds just before sunset. He estimated the diameter of the planet at 1' 3". Thus, the first transit of Venus known to have been observed was seen by two amateur astronomers in the north of England, and by them only. It seems strange that no other astronomer should have been on the watch for the phenomenon, which could have been seen well in France ; for though it is true that Kepler had predicted that a transit would not occur, yet Landsberg's tables were not without reputation at this time, and they actually pre- dicted a transit. Horrocks suggested several important im- provements in the theory of astronomy,” but * One of these was showing how the inequality in the moon’s motion, termed the evection, could be ex- plained by supposing the eccentricity of the moon’s elliptical orbit to be variable, and the moon's perigee to be subject to a slight swaying from its mean posi- tion—thus anticipating Newton's famous discovery. He therefore wrote to a young- —4 his early death prevented these being made public, so that they were lost to Science, being Only made known many years subsequently. These improvements show the great loss that was experienced by astronomy in the death of Horrocks, and render it probable that, had he lived, many of the great astronomical discoveries would have been achieved a century before their actual date. - * Subsequently a transit of Mercury was observed on November 3, 1651, by Shakerley, a young English astronomer, who had pro- ceeded to Surat, in India, for the express purpose of seeing it—thus inaugurating the long series of expeditions to secure astronomical observations. Another was seen on May 3, 1661, by a number of observers, including Huygens, Street, and Mercator, in London, and Hevelius in Dantzic ; and since then they have been repeatedly observed, occurring every few years. Hevelius made the diameter of Mercury only 12”, which is close to its true value. The transits of Mercury, it is to be observed, are much more frequent than those of Venus, in consequence of the former planet being nearer the sun, and having thus a narrower orbit and a shorter year ; but they are not available for the determination of the solar parallax. Sº §§ §2. -º-º-º: § º § §§§ º: Sºº, VIII. PERIODs of the English Language. § 57. “Periods” of the language : change gradual. § 58. Modern tongues tend to become analytical. § 59. Periods : #5 Old English ; (2) Early English; (3) Middle English ; (4) Modern English, § 60. Weakening and loss of inflexion. § 61. Dialects of Old English, § 62. And of Early English. § 63. Modern English the East Midland dialec . § 64. Pedigree of Modern English. § 57. It was explained before (§6) that dead languages, being no longer spoken, cannot alter, but that a living language, quickened by the necessities of daily speech, is always going through some change or other. When these changes take place near our own time, they occur so gradually that we do not always notice them ; it is by means of our literature that we are able to mark the differences that time brings about. Looking back to Addison (died 1719), we note a slight quaintness; still further to Milton (died 1674), and Shakes- pere (died 1616): their diction and phraseology strike us with certain peculiarities which occasionally require some thought and inge- nuity to understand, but are on the whole perfectly comprehensible. Spenser (died 1599) is rather more difficult; and when we get to Chaucer (died 1400) and W. Langland (died about 1400) the difference is so great that we are not able to read their works without con- siderable study. Going back to our earliest Jº VGLISIſ GRAMMAIP. 259 writers : to King Alfred (died 901), the his- torian Bede (died 734), and the poet Caedmon (about 690), the language looks so unlike our own that we might imagine it to be a foreign tongue. § 58. The English language obeys the law. which has affected nearly all the members of the Low-German family, the French, and others: beginning as synthetical, they have by degrees become weakened in their inflexions, have thrown them off, and have taken rela- £ional words in their stead ; thus, with a sim- plified grammar, they have arrived at the con- dition of analytical language (see before, $36). “The tendencies of all modern languages known in literature are in one and the same direction—namely, to simplification of structure by rejection of inflections” (Marsh). § 59. For the sake of convenience, therefore, writers on this subject divide the stages of growth through which the language has passed into several Periods. Opinions are not entirely at one upon these divisions, nor upon the names to be given them : we follow that authority which seems to give the most natural and the simplest means of reference. Certain broad features distinguish each period, but it must always be remembered that, however ac- celerated change may have been at any special time, the passage from one period to another was insensible, no sharp boundary-line exists. (1) Old English (A.D. 450–1100). From the coming of the Anglo-Saxons till a short time after the Norman Conquest. The language was inflected. It contained very few foreign elements. The writings of Caedmon, Bede, AElfric and King Alfred belong to this period. (2) Early English (A.D. 1100–1250). First influence of the Norman-French. Spelling modified, and consequently the endings of the words weakened. The Brut, by Layamon ; the Ormulum, by Ormin ; the Ancrem Rim:le, were written in the former part of this period; in the latter part, the Story of Genesis and Aaodus, the Omºl and Nightingale, and others. (3) Middle English (A.D. 1250–1485). Time of closer amalgamation of French, till the introduction of printing into England. Gram- matical changes and loss of inflexions among nouns, adjectives, and verbs. In the first part of the period were written a Metrical Chronicle, and Lives of Saints, said to be by Robert of Gloucester; the Cursor Mundi ; Langtoft's Metrical Chronicle ; the works of Robert of Brunne; Hampole's Prick of Conscience; the Ayembite of Invyt (= the “Remorse of Con- Science"), by Michel of Northgate, Kent. In the latter part we find the works of Wyclif, Langland (who wrote Piers Plowman), Gower, Chaucer, and Caxton. (4) Modern English (A.D. 1485 to the pre- sent time). Two (or more) divisions might be rmade of this—the first one to include the Eliza- bethan period, ending about 1620. § 60. To trace out the details of the changes that took place in the first three periods is a work of time and careful study, one that will well repay the student, but which will be con- veniently postponed till some knowledge of the | grammar of the present is attained. It will be useful, however, in some degree, to under- stand what is meant by the weakening of word-endings and loss of inflexion. Take, for example, the old English form of to drink, the word drincan ; in the second period this became drincen. Afterwards, in Wyclif or Chaucer, you find the n has dropt off, leaving a weak e. After a time the e became silent (a to was put in to distinguish the word), and finally was lost. The Old English warmian–to warn, is found as warnie in the Ancrem Rinvle, whence the transition was not far to warne and warn. The tendency was to fall away from the broad an or on to the weaker en, then to drop the n, and finally the e, from being only half pro- nounced, became mute. Then, when it only survived on paper, it became forgotten what this represented, and it was often lost altogether. This is the explanation of the numerous e and en that occur in Chaucer (for example), where they represent either the whole, or the remains, of the inflexions of the Old English. “And Smale birdes maken melodie.” The following examples will show the break- ing-down through three dates:— O. E. He hylt mid his mihte heofanas and eolºan and ealle. He halt mid his mihte heofenaes and eol'čan and alle. He halt mid his mihte hefene and eoróé and alle. He holdeth with his might heavens and earth and all. Ballum mannum gif hi moton Tic- sian and hi alecgač. Eallen mannen gyf hea moten rixi- gen and hea alecge’8. Alle monnen sif hi moter. Tixian and hi allegga'8. To all men, if they might hold Sway, and they put down. Dialects of English (three first periods). § 61. The sketch of the history of English would be incomplete without mention of the principal dialects that have been remarked. In the Old English before the Conquest there appear to have been two dialects, a northern and a southern, which arose, some writers think, from the difference of the original tribes who settled there. However that might be, it is in the language of the south that the best and widest literature of that period was written; even writers of the north, such as Caedmon and Bede, are known to us now chiefly by means of their transmission through the southern dialect ; the Saaron Chronicle is in this dialect. Of the northern there are not so many works, but enough remain to show the differences existing between the dialects, some of which indicate that the northern was nearer to our modern English than the southern. (See before, $ 40.) § 62. In the Second Period there seem to have been so many varieties, each writer em- ploying the local form which pleased him, that About 1150. About 1250. O. E. A.D. 1100. A.D. 1150. , there can hardly be said to have been any f;tandard language. . But by the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the language settled down 260 THIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, into three distinct forms, which are known as the Northern, Midland, and Southern dialects; the Northern was spoken in Northumberland, Durham, and Yorkshire, and the Lowlands of Scotland; the Southern, in all counties South of the Thames, and in Somersetshire and Gloucestershire ; and the Midland, in all the Midland and East Anglian counties, also in Cumberland, Westmoreland, Lancashire, and Shropshire. § 63. Each dialect is known by special gram- matical differences: an easy one to retain in the memory is the ending of the plural present indicative of the verb–Southern eth, Midland en, Northern es or s—that is, a Southerner Would say () habbeth, (*) moneth ; a Midlander, (*) habben or haven, (*) ovonen, a Northerner, haves or has, (*) rymynes, for our () we have, (*) we dwell, or (*) we run. The Midland dia- lect was the most important, it covered the widest tract of country, and itself exhibited several varieties ; the One which it behoves us most to bear in mind is the < Jºast Midland, spoken in Lincoln- shire, Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex, for under the in- fluence of the writers who used it, and principally of Chaucer, whose works were not only popular and widely read for many gene- Tations, but imi- tated, the East Midland became that which was º £g : º º sw:it ºX;:& f 7&R.: ׺ §§º Šºš ºf 5:Ste. U- ^ 39 ºSº | - | - $ w MISTRY = ||. r w ºrs Zºº Sºº . Yº ºCyºr % S$ §§§ '% - sº §§Dºśº)))/ºšššjā §§§ºº sº VII. WATER—(continued). THE exact proportion in which the elements of water are combined, may be ascertained by an apparatus known as the Eudiometer. This consists of a wr dºctºr." Strong glass tube, open at one UROll'OlºſièUSI’. end and closed at the other, two platinum wires being introduced through the glass to Convey an electric current. The tube, having been filled with mercury, is inverted with the Open end downwards in a vessel containing the same liquid metal. A certain quantity of hydrogen is now introduced into the tube, being allowed to pass up into it through the mer- cury. The tube being accurately graduated, we can ascertain the exact volume of this gas introduced. Let us say, for the sake of illustration, that it displaces the mer- cury to the space of 100 degrees. Oxygen is next ad- mitted in the pro- portion of three- quarters of the volume of the hy- recognized as the best English all over the land. Thus, though that sweet “well of English undefiled ” cannot lay claim to be the father of our poetry, as he is sometimes mis- takenly called, he may fairly be considered as the great appointer of our tongue. “It was Chaucer's influence that caused the East Mid- land speech to supersede the other dialects, and to assume the position of the standard literary English, from which has come in a direct line, with but few flexional changes, the language spoken and written by educated Englishmen in all parts of the British Empire.” (Dr. Morris.) § 64. Pedigree of Modern English (Dialects and Periods). Old English : Nörthern Southern (A.D. 450-1100), §§§ ºilinºiſill|||||||||}|||}| --- Early & Northn. Midland Southm. (A.D. 1200-1460) Middle : ſ— | | —T East Midl. West. Midl. and others. (Chaucer d º . 1400). Modern English. §ičić ~ º º ſºft TEIE EU DIOMETER. Extraºrº, ſº Ž. drogen, and occu- ºlº pying therefore 75 † degrees. The tube łllºlºllſ * - Lºº Lº should not be more than half filled with the gaseous mixture, on account of the violence of the explosion, for which reason also it is necessary to press down the open end of the tube on a plate of caoutchouc, at the bottom of the vessel it stands in. The electric spark having been made to pass through the commingled gases, a flame is seen to descend in the tube, combination has taken place, and the interior of the glass is bedeved with a small quantity of water. As this only amounts to wºrn part of the volume of the gases which go to form it, we need not take it into considera- tion, but proceed to estimate the proportion in which the gases have combined by admitting the mercury into the * . ºf tube. We now find that only 25 * .* parts, or % of the entire quantity of gas admitted into the eudiometer remains, the rest having combined to form water, leaving, of course, a vacuum behind, now filled by the mercury. This gas turns out on examination to be pure oxygen, showing clearly that 50 CII EMISTRY. parts out of the 75 introduced have cºmbined with 100 of the hydrogen to form water. The result of the experiment is therefore to (letermine the fact that one volume of oxygen unites with exactly twice its own bulk of hy- drogen to form water. The former gas being 16 times as heavy as the latter, we know, there- £ore, that the proportions by weight in which they are combined in water is as 8 to 1. The great heat which is evolved in the com- bustion of these two gases in a state of mixture, and which gives rise to the explosive violence with which they unite, may be turned to a aseful account if the combustion be effected gradually and under the control and direction of a Special apparatus known as The oxy-hy- the oxy-hydrogen blowpipe, by * *** means of which a jet of oxygen is directed against one of burning hydrogen. A flame is thus strong affinity for oxygen, possesses the power, when in a red-hot state, of partially decom- posing the water and taking up a portion of its oxygen, while liberating the hydrogen. The same result may be produced in a more efficient manner by means . º: of a tube of iron or copper filled *::::: - with iron filings in a red-hot - state. If a jet of steam be directed into One end of the tube, it is decomposed in passing through the red-hot iron filings; it parts with its oxygen, which is absorbed by the iron, and issues from the other end of the tube in the form of hydrogen. The singular metals Sodium and potassium, possessing, as they do, a very strong affinity for Oxy- gen, will decompose water at ordinary temperatures, by simply coming into contact with it. "If a small piece of either of these metals Water decom- posed by metals. e. Ilú |Wº: * ##|| - pro du c e d iſſº | º * i. be thrown upon which, while i } | | the surface of a giving off very § basin of water, little light, pos- ºft it becomes in- sesses so high a ºft can de S C ent, degree of tem- # uniteS with perature that || jºis * nº. any of the |jã | Wit e Oxy- ºals, even the º *:::: N liſi gen of the water, * .."; jºš º s # # º # º º tºº, melted in it: ś ºtº º # | º liberating the the diamond || # # * iº =|ºi is drogen. itself is power- ; ºš tº is | XE i º which burns less to resist it. § sº §º-º. #º If a small piece of lime is in- troduced into the flame it soon becomes white-hot, Orin- candescent, and glows with in- tense brilliancy, giving rise to One of the most powerful of ar- tificial lights. We have thus sh own how water may be formed by bringing its constituent elements together and causing them to unite, and how that liquid may be itself decomposed or resolved into the gases of which it iſ composed. These processes are known in chemistry as synthesis and analysis, the one term signifying the bringing together, the other the separating or taking apart, of the elements of a compound. e A simpler but readier method of Simpler means effecting the decomposition of ****ing water is by plunging a piece of water, ... " : sº, “ o red-hot iron into it; an ordinary Ritchen poker will answer the purpose per- fectly well. The moment the red-hot iron is plunged into the water, the evolution of a con- siderable quantity of steam takes place with a hissing noise. This is not the only effect pro- duced, however. The metal iron, having a iºni †† | &R tº - §§§ tº liftºl §§ I) ISTILLATION OF WATER. flame. As these | with a purple iès-Eſſº-j; º sº º 5 N-Hiliº | metals possess º s ºº the power of Esº de composing Sºssº i. º water, even §ſº | when in the §§ |-.. solid state, they tºº will, if thrown É upon a lump of ice, produce the singular and startling effect of kindling a flame on that sub st a n ce. Water is what is termed a volatile liquid, – a term applied to all those liquids that are instantly converted into their vapour in vacuo. The silent, invisible evaporation of water which is constantly going on in nature performs the important function of preserving the fertility of the globe we inhabit. We may remark here, parenthetically, that it is in conse- quence of evaporation that the surface of the earth dries up in fine weather, and that water, alcohol, ether, and other such liquids will dis- appear entirely if left to stand in an Open vessel. Some solids even, as Smow or ice, camphor, etc., are subject to evaporation; and hence snow will disappear off the ground during the continuance at any time of a Severe frost. Meaning of the term volatile, Evaporation. THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR. #º - t rºavºs ºr tº sº wº º --- Ö §§ § : Š §§º jº # FRE IX. THE NOUN (continued)—APPLICATION. EXERCISE XIII. PUT the following Substantives into the plural: Bâton, stick; fils, son; voia, voice; mez, nose; chapeau, hat; cheveu, hair; joujou, toy; quintal, hundredweight; corail, coral; canif, penknife; lis, lily ; croia, cross; fez, red Turkish cap ; corbeau, crow ; neveu, nephew ; chow, cabbage ; animal, beast ; &mail, enamel ; Savon, Soap— gaze, gauze ; gaz, gas—perdria, partridge ; vetºf, widower ; vis, screw ; bas, stocking ; ananas, pine-apple ; loi, law ; vau, wish ; priºr, price ; cri, shout ; cow, neck; cheval, horse ; &ventail, 'fan ; coucou, cuckoo; feu, fire ; chalºmeau, a straw ; paille, straw ; veryou, bolt ; sow, half- penny; 6powvantail, scarecrow; travail, work; brebis, ewe ; belier, ram; agneau, lamb; mouton, sheep ;—ours, bear ; ourse, she-bear ; ourson, cub of the bear ;-aveu, confession ; Français, Frenchman; Russe, Russian ; Anglais, English- man; Parisien, Parisian; souris, mouse; caporal, corporal; as, ace ; tas, heap ;-fouet, whip ; foi, faith ; fois, time ; foie, liver ;-sot, silly man ; Seaw, pitcher ; Sceau, Seal ; Sawt, leap— clou, nail ; filow, pickpocket; voleur, thief; pois, pea ; haricot, bean ; drapeau, flag ; crewa, cavity ; trou, hole ; appui, Support ; domino, domino camail, priest-cloak. EXERCISE XIV. 1. Les fiançailles allaient avoir lieu. 2. Ils Sont aux abois. 3. Les věpres vont commencer. 4. Elle vient d’aller a matines. 5. Les moeurs des ancétres avaient quelque chose de simple.* 6. Sont-elles aux aguets 7 7. Nous venons de voir les alentours. 8. Ils allaient chercher de l'or, de l'argent et du mercure dans les entrailles de la terre. 9. Combien aurons-nous d'arrhes 7 10. Les assises allaient avoir lieu à York. 11. Le Savoir a peu d'appas pour la paresse. 12. Wous veniez de voir les décombres et de couper lesbroussailles. 13. Quelqu'un de riche va faire les frais des funérailles du héros. 14. Nous venons de chercher les matériaux. 15. Les vivres venaient de manquer aux Parisiens. 16. Ilsallaient rire à mes dépens. 17. Je viens de voir quelque chose de joli. 18. Wiens-tu de chercher quelque chose de bon? 19. J’allais vendre mes hardes, car (for) mon père venait de me (to me) couper les vivres. 20. Elles venaient de Tire de (at) mes pleurs. EXERCISE XV. 1. Drinking, eating, and sleeping have more charms for idleness than (que) knowledge. 2. The queen was going to see the ruins. 3. The sculpture (f) of the ancestors had (imperfect) something noble and simple. 4. Thou wast * Words underlined are alike in both French and Inglish. - y sky or heaven ; and azil, eye. going to seek my stockings and (my) hats. 5. Vespers had just begun. 6. The warriors have just seen the queen. 7. Darkness was about to begin. 8. The corporals had just re- ceived crosses from the general. 9. I was going to have a sirloin, 10. Had she just seen some- thing pretty 7 11. Thou art going to sell thy, clothes. 12. How much (que de) rubbish in the surrounding places ! 13. She was going to Sell my fans and my cross. 14. The supplies are going to fail. 15. Is he going to laugh at the expense of the hero? 16. The generals are about to go to the fire. 17. You had just gone (and) sought the jewels and the toys. 18. Have we just laughed at (de) the scare- crows? 19. Thou wast going to have cabbage (plural). 20. The obsequies of the general are about to take place. THEORY-(resumed). 1. Concrete and Abstract Wowns.—Common nouns are called concrete (con, together, and cresco, I grow) when they name things which fall within the range of our senses : legume, a vegetable, is called a concrete substantive be- cause it represents something we can touch, see, Smell, and taste ; whereas vérité, truth, is called an abstract substantive (abs, away from, and traho, I draw) because it represents some- thing which does not come within the range of the senses. 2. On Substantives that have a double form for the plural.—Of such there are four in French : ail, garlic ; afteul, forefather ; ciel, The one plural is regular ; it is of later formation, and in- dicates special views taken of the noun. The other plural is irregular ; it is the older form, and maintains the original acceptation of the word. a. ail is written ails, as a botanical term : i! iſ a plusieurs espèces d'ails, there are Several species of garlic. Ilooked upon as a vegetable its plural is aula : le jardinier plante des awla, the gardener is planting garlic. b. ašeul is written aſſeuls when it means grandfathers: j'ai le bonheur de posséder encore mes deua, ažeuls, I have the happiness of still possessing my two grandfathers. It is in that Sense that the feminine aieule, grandmother, appears. In the meaning of ancestors, aſſeua. is used : une longue suite d'afewa, illustres, a long line of illustrious ancestors. c. Clel takes an 8 in three phrases only : ciels de lit, bed-testers; ciels de tableau, pic- ture Skies; and in the sense of climates: le ciel de la Procence et celui de l'Italie sont bien. différents des ciels de l'Angleterre et de l'Ecosse, the climate of Provence and that of Italy are vastly different from those of England and Scotland. Otherwise the plural is cieuw : la: votite des cieuw, the firmament; notre père qui és atta, Giewa, our Father which art in heaven. d. In compound nouns, aeil is written oils; des ails-de-bacuſ, bull's eye windows; des acils- de-chat, cat's eye opals; des ails-de-perdrie, corns (so also aeil-de-bouc, a kind of shell; ail-de-chèvre, a certain plan, ; ail d'or, a cer. FREWOH GRAMMAR. 263 tain fish, etc.) But we should say, les yeure du chat, the eyes of the cat ; des yewa blews, blue eyes; les yewa; du fromage, the eyes (holes) of the cheese, etc. 3. Plural of foreign nouns used in French.-Foreign nouns, until recently, have received most Čavalier treatment at the hand of French writers; we refer here to neologisms only. Those taken from the German have undergone, in most cases, a thorough taxans- formation: vasistas (from was ist das?) and vermout (for wermuth), already quoted (seo $2, p. 28); choucrowte, fermented cabbage, from sauerkraut; micnac, from misch- masch, etc.; whereas Kirschwasser (also called kirsch), kreutzer, stockfish, etc., have undergone no change. In English words, although roast beef and beefsteak have been rubbed down to rosbif and bifteck, some progress is noticeable; e.g., whiskey is no longer spelt wiskey, and the plural recommended for lady is no longer ladys, but ladies; yet the Académie shows more conservatism in the retention of the two plurals torys and tories. In those Latin and Italian words which, from their appearance, claim yet to be foreign, although to all intents and purposes they are incorporated in the language, Strange errors—all the stranger that if the French are anything, they are good Latin and Italian scholars—present themselves: to give errata and con- cetti as singular nouns does not seem to denote much accuracy. From what precedes it will not be wondered at that grammarians differ much as to the rule of the plural applicable to foreign nouns. Here, as elsewhere, we shall make our final appeal to the dictionary of the Académie, and look for supplementary confirmation to M. Littré. Those foreign words, whether altered or unaltered, which have become thoroughly naturalized, do take the sign of the French plural. In tracing, in the fol- lowing list, the Origin of some nouns, we do not claim to go to the fountain-head; we limit ourselves to mention from which language French obtained them. For instance, zéro is placed under the Italian list, and is not ascribed to Arabic or Sanskrit, from which it may possibly conne. Write, therefore, with an 8 In the plural, the fol- lowing nouns: a. From LATIN: alléluia (read lui-a, not lu-ia), halle- lujah, Song of praise; agenda (r. en as in), memorandum- book; alibi; album (r. wºm as om', and so all nouns in wºm, except parfum—see § 49); aliméa, a new paragraph ; bénédicité, grace before meat; criterium; débet (bet–bé), balance of an account; examén (en–en' or in), examiná. tion; folio; forum ; frater (ter-têr'), a friar; impromptu (in-pron-ptu); lapabo, both a prayer and a cloth used in the Sacrament of the communion, also a washhand- stand; lumbago (um=on); magister, (ter=tér), country Schoolmaster; mémento (en-in), memorandum; mºséum (more generally musée); pensum (pin-Rom'), imposition, task; placet (cet– cé), a petition ; quidam (r. Kidam, and observe the unusual feminine guidane), a certain man, a certain woman ; quiproguo (ki-pro-ko); quolibet (ko-li- * , a sorry joke; récèpissé, receipt; recto, first page of a leaf; reliquat (quat-ka), remainder of an account ; spécimen (ºn articulated); tacet (t articulated), a pause; tibia; ultimatum ; verso, second page of a leaf; veto : vertigo, villa ; virago; visa, examination and signing of an act; vivaf (t articulated), cheer.—Remark : In ac- cessit (£ artic.), and déficit (t artic.), the addition of 8 in the plural is optional ; and, in mathematical lan- guage, marimwºm and minimum take the Latin neuter plural, a. b. From the TTALIAN : alto, andante, aparté (an º concerto, contralto, domino, duo, imbroglio (r. imbroille), ºwméro, oratorio, piano, quintette (gwin = kin), trio, zéro. —Remark : Write lazzi with or without s : solo makes solos or soli; and carbonaro, condottiere (Littré), dilettante, lazzarone, scherzo (Littré), take the Italian plural, i. c. From the SPANIs H. : alguazil (gua-gowa), police- man; aviso, dispatch-boat; boléro, a dance; embargo (em=an), prohibition; fandango, a dance; hidalgo, a nobleman, etc. d. From the ENGLISH: bifteck, lord, rail, steamer, tender, filbury, tramway, truck, etc. All the more readily do these nouns take an s, as they do take one in the Original. e. From the GREEK: diorama, Čcho, palladium, pano- ºrama, etc. Write alike in both numbers: avé, a men, concetti (which is already an Italian plural), confiteor (Littré), crédo, crescendo (Littré), duplicata, errata (which should have the sing, erratum), eaceat (8-gzé'-at'), item, magnificaä (Littré), pater (?' artic.), quatuor (here the Académie says no s, and M. Littré says s), satisfeeit (Littré, t artic.); add all compounds: de profundis, ecce-homo, fac-similé, forté-piano, in-folio, inquarto, etc.; post-scriptum, Te Deum } but, senatus-consulte takes s. Examples: On périssait de misère au bruit des TE DEUM et parmi les réjouissances (Voltaire), the people were perishing from sheer misery amidst the din of thanksgivings' and rejoicings. Madame de Sévigné lisait des IN-Folio en douze jours quand il pleuvait (de Sainte-Beuve), Madame de S. would read whole folios in twelve days when the weather was rainy. Que j'ai écrit de lettres dans ce temps-lä sans compter les post-scriptum (C. Dela- vigne) How many letters I wrote at that time, without mentioning the postScripts Fuyez encore les tours trop délicats, Des concerTI l'inutile fracas (de Bernis), Shura also excess of refinement, the bootless clash of empty conceits. It may be asked: in what sense are avé, comfiteor, crédo, magnificat, etc., used in the plural? One might say for illustration: cette femme répétait ses AVE et ses con FITEoR ; voici un marchand d'ecce-homo, here is a man selling prints of Our Lord’s passion, etc. Icemark.-Auto da fé, lit. an act of faith—applied to. the burning of Jews and heretics—was until recently Spelt in Fr. auto-da-fé, alike in both numbers. It now appears as one word autodafé, and takes therefore s in the plural: assister & des autodafés (A.), to witness, the burning of heretics. Practical Application. 1. Learn the following promiscuous vocabu- lary : Mouns. Oiseau, m. bird pays, m. country Anglais, m. English astre, m. star bijou, m. jewel perdrix, f. partridge Canal, m. canal plante, f. #: Cheval, m. horse pluriel, m. plural Ciel, m. sky porte, f door dame, lady printemps, m. spring éventail, m. fan fille, daughter ls, som fleur, f. flower Français, m. French fusil de chasse, m. gun gaZ, m. gas gouvernail, m. helm jardin, m. garden journal, m. newspaper langue, f. language navire. m. shºp Eleveu, nephew Ceil, m. eye Salle d’étude, f schoolroom. sou, m. halfpenny tableau, m, board travail, m. work verrou, m. bolt Adjectives. àgé, aged, old bleu, blue chaud, warm compressible, compressible gris, #. noir, black 2. The first ten cardinal numerals are : l, un, 2, deux, 3, trois, 4, quatre, 5, cine, 6, Six, 7, Sept, 8, huit, 9, neuf, 10, dix. 3. The above adjectives form their plural by adding s, except gris, which does not change in the masculine plural. 4. The demonstrative adjective this (or that, plural these or those) is ce placed before a masculine singular noun beginning with a con- Somant : ce marteau, this or that hammer; cet before a masc. sing: noun beginning with a vowel : eet are, this bow ; cette before any fem. sing. noun: cette brouette, this wheel- barrow ; ces before any noun in the plural : ces marteaua, ces arcs, ces browettes. (In Writing the following exercises, which offer a recapitulation, Lesson W. must be kept in view.) THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOI2. THE LEAVES (continued). THE more usual mode of localizing the oil thus retained in or about the leaves and calyx, is to keep it quite within the leaf, instead of allowing it to ooze out Dotted leaves, and constitute little superficial spheres. In the myrtle, for example, the Orange-tree, and all the numerous species of their respective families, and in many other plants, the oil-bags are embedded in the very substance of the leaf. shade upon a table in the corner, so as to be ready, any moment, for use. We have named the above various little matters connected with leaf ornamentation, not merely because of their importance from a purely scientific point of view, but to indicate at the same time how easily procurable, and how infinitely diversified, are microscopic objects of the choicest beauty. It is a mistake to think that a microscope means only remote and elaborate Secrets, and rivalry as to who shall get nearer to the inscrutable. Far more sen- sible to take for one's main pursuit the simple and lovely productions of the garden and the Wayside. At all events, do the best you can to exhaust these in the first place, and a far Sounder and Serener pleasure will be the result. **To know That which before us lies in daily life Is the prime wisdom.” Being distinguishable only when the leaf is examined with a strong light behind it, they fail to give the ornamental character conferred by the other kind. Very valuable testimony is furnished by them, nevertheless, in re- gard to the affinities of plants, especially when, as in the Flacourtiaceae, some are circular, others oblong, and the two kinds indif- ferently intermingled. Leaves possessed of these internal oil-bags are said to be “dotted.” Excellent examples are supplied by º 㺠most of the wild English ź. sº species of St. John's wort, § ſº wayside plants with yellow 3% ſ * | | & }{ill'ſ f | * r * sº | | | flowers, one of which bears }%| | the descriptive name of §||ſ |Aſs º Hypericum perforatum; º t dotted leaves always seem- 3- ($ºſſy ing, when looked at as fº/ff transparencies, as if they sº had been pricked through and through, in every por- tion, with a needle. Dotted ": leaves and external oil- & glands appear to be en- tirely confined to the exo- genous class of flowering- plants; there are plenty of examples, how- ever, among Endogens, of interesting and curious hair and wool. Though pertaining to the flowers, and not to the leaf, here may be mentioned that in the whole scope of vegetable ornamentation of the kinds just particularised, there is seldom found an equal to the crimson vesture of the Anigozanthus, an Australian endogen of the greenhouse, called in the vernacular, by reason of its dark velvet pall, which is quite unique, the Funeral flower. Now that excellent microscopes, even bino- cular ones, can be obtained at a moderate cost, g every house where the family Use the micro- considers itself intelligent ought *P* to possess one—not, however, to be kept shut up in the box in which it arrives r º º #23 * sº FIG. 42.-PASSION-FLOWER. Nature has prescribed green as the ruling colour 4. for leaves, but with many |NA % aº)\! 4% plants vivid colour is quite §%% (\º º, .º.º. §% ſº = |\ }}%2% We might pause, were the § ! / matter less familiar, on the ** question what is green, the shades being endlessly di- versified. The most exqui- site shades are found per- haps among the ferns, and especially in the section called Filmy ferns, though even these scarcely excel some of the aquatics called Potamogetons, which are now and then, as in the P. lucens, quite transparent. The darkest shades occur among the coniferous trees, and in the yew, owing to the intense concentration. The most remarkable shade is that one termed “glau- cous,” well shown in the foliage of pinks and carna- tions, and common in grasses, especially when growing near the sea. When bright colours occur in leaves, they are usually developed at a very early period. Various species of Amaranth are full purple in every part, almost from the instant of emergence from the seed; and seedlings of the variegated sycamore are beautifully dappled with rose-colour long before the cotyledons fall. In the mature plant the ornamental colour is either diffused throughout the leafin general, or distributed so as to produce blotches of various kinds. The crimson varieties of Dracaena are painted almost from base to apex ; SO are the leaves of the purple or copper beech. Some- times the rich colour is confined to the under surface, in which case the plant often bears the specific name of “discolor.” Most usually the enrichment is in the form of irregular spots, as very strikingly expressed in the Cala- diums and in their wild British representative, lullû, \i ū } * º | {\|| from the optician's, but placed under a glass the common Arum of the hedgebanks, the | JB OTA WY. 265 markings in which are deep purple. Pre- eminent in all respects are some of the many marvellous varieties of the Codiacum variegatum of the South Sea Islands, commonly cultivated in hothouses under the name of Crotons. The crimson of the corn-poppy alone matches their splendid hues; and as the foliage endures all the year round, the transient charm of the Caladiums places their merit as decorative plants, by contrast, in a position still higher. Many of these so-called “crotons” have the leaves variegated with yellow, sometimes so rich and plentiful that the plant seems a fountain of green and gold. Countless other plants, of late years, like the crotons, very fashionable— for there is fashion in floriculture as well as in human apparel—are occasionally variegated in similar manner ; the yellow appearing in blotches or distinct spots, and sometimes pale as a primrose. There are examples, also, of spots as white as milk, as in the Caladium argyrites. Here a different cause appears to be ſº 7. o per a ti v. e. §§ Leaves distained with yellow, and those which are blanched by ac- cidental seclu- sion from the light—as when grass is covered up temporarily by a tile; or which are de- s i g n e d 1 y blanched in the garden by adopt- ing a similar plan, as done with endive— the object being to subdue the flav our and thereby obtain a pleasing esculent —are understood to be deficient in their natural colour, not to be in the possession of a Super- added tint. Nothing is more familiar, even in the ordinary routine of life, than the wan and sickly complexion of shoots produced in com- parative darkness. Whatever it may be that the plant generates within itself as the poten- tial seat of its perfect colour, it is the sunlight that persuades it to assume the green hue ; and, as a rule, when leaves are spotted, blotched, or striped with yellow, there would seem to be a peculiarity in the constitution of the plant which hinders it from getting ready, as it were. We must not say that it is weak, or in poor health, because in general condition, as regards strength and substance, the variegated plants are usually quite on a par with the full green ones. The solution of the difficulty would seem to be supplied through the help of an analogy. The rule is for the human hair to be dark, either brown or black. Every one knows that there is plenty of the varied hue comprehen- Yellow in leaves, sº § º #ESS; *Nºë FIG. 43.-GYMINOSTACHYUM VI: RSCHAFFELTI. sively called “light,”—the people just as strong and hearty, all the same. Plants, variegated with yellow are extremely prone to acquire the full green if left to themselves, especially if placed in conditions favourable to its mani- festation ; SO that there is some ground, after all, for the assumption that, while yellow-spotted or marbled with white, their vital energy is below par. It is worth remembering at this point that the lovely white sepals of the flowers of the Christmas-rose (Helleborus niger) become green as the spring advances ; and that the petals of many kinds of flowers similarly begin as pure white, and subsequently acquire more or less of a rosy hue, as may be regularly observed in the strawberry. A decorative effect, analogous to that of the crimson in the croton leaves, is produced some- times by the tinting of the veins, the remainder of the leaf continu- ing plain green. This is shown very pleasingly in a variety of one of the com- mon wild Eng- lish docks, the JR wºme a sa 'm - guineus, which is either of a uniform bright green, OT most exquisitely laced and netted in every part with blood-colour. The Orchids of the East Indian islands which go by the name of An oecto chilus have leaves re- sembling rich green or bronzy vel wet, e m - broidered in every part with threads of gold. Instead of being suffused with special colour, veins are sometimes perfectly translucent, the leaf once again acquiring singular beauty from this apparently unimportant contrivance. To appreciate what a leaf really is, when sufficiently thin to allow of being so dealt with, we should examine it in the way that we examine cathedral windows, which we never do from the street, or the outside, but by once again seeking the inestimable aid of that great interpreter of all that is excellent—God's glorious Sunshine. Coloured veins, THE FIFTH STEP IN SINGING. HITHERTO we have spoken of Doh as the central pivot of the scale—the note around 266 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. which the other notes are placed, and from “Modes.” which they derive their character. 914 "es.” But theolá Greek and Latin music —indeed, the vernacular music of all countries— made use of other tones of the natural Scale, such as Ray, Lah, etc., as pivot tones, which thus stamped their own characteristics upon the music. Nor is it correct to speak of these old “modes” of using the scale as extinct. They are still used in places where modern harmony has not found its way, and where melody, chiefly unaccompanied, forms the staple of musical performance. They may be heard in Persia, India and China, and in the highlands of Scotland and of Wales. The question may be asked, how are we to know whether a tune is in the Ray or Lah or { { , any other mode, as the same Old "Mºdes” seven sounds will be used in it as * in the doſ, mode? The answer is, look to the first and last notes, and to any pauses in the course of the tune, as between the lines of poetry, and notice if any one tone is prominent. Notice especially the tone which is at the distance of five steps above what you think is the mode tone. This tone will be its “dominant,” will be related to it as Soh is related to Doh, and will have a powerful in- fluence in deciding the mode. Let us take as an example the following tune, “Bangor,” a traditional tune of the Welsh Church, which may still be heard sung as it is written below :- § { Bangor,” : 1 | f : m | r : 1 | r :d'.t | 1 : I | 1 :d'.t | 1 : s ] I : — — : 1 |r! :d r" :f |r! :d'.t | 1 : 1 | r : 1.s | f :m | r :— || _ſ) #H#H#H# –0– *) t - 5- e— I I zºº, –––. &=##### F-ºff= Fº \SUTU J Notice, in this tune, how Ray and its dominant (five notes above), Lah, are prominent. As an example of the Lah mode, let us take § { the old version of the Scotch John Aºi, song, “John Anderson, my Jo l’” **Y*}” The ending is as follows:- REY C. : l m : 1 || 1 : s | 1 :— || –0––– ſ t 4. 24–––E– =HE-H H # =E====== –H These old modes have an historical interest, because without understanding them we can- not understand the subject upon which we Inow enter, the Mode”, Minor. Very early in the history of harmony the mode which chooses Doh for its key-note was accepted as the most satisfactory. A chief reason for this preference is that the third tone above Doh, is separated from it by two whole steps, while the third tones above Ray and Lah are only distant a step and a little step. In other words, Doh is a major mode, having a major third above its principal tone, and Lah and Ray are minor modes, having a minor third above their principal tone. Another reason for the establishment of the Doh mode as the key to the scale was that the position of Te, a little step below Doh, was felt to be exceed- ingly satisfactory and convenient in harmony. The Lah and Ray modes, on the contrary, had no such “leading tone,” but only Soh and Doh, a full tone below. The effect of a minor mode, as a change from the major, was felt, however, to be very pleasing in music, and composers set to work to harmonise a minor mode. For many reasons they selected the mode on Lah, and rejected the other modes almost entirely. But while the gloomy sound of the Lah mode. was capable of beautiful effects in contrast with the bright and clear sound of the major, composers soon found out its defects, not from the melodic point of view, but from the har- monic. They tried to combine the advantages of the major mode with those of the minor, to graft on to the minor improvements which suited their purpose as harmonists. The first of these improvements was the raising of the note below Lah. (Soh) so as to form a “leading tone,” which we call Se. This raising was not. invariable, for the old Soh was still allowed in certain cases. The raising of Se, however, left an awkward gap, as the student will see by looking at the modulator, between Se and Fah; and as a gap of this sort was the special abhorrence of early harmonists, who liked everything to be smooth and easy to sing, Fah. was in its turn raised also, forming a new tone which we call Ba. Still, how- ever, the use of Ba was not invari- I able. Fah even now more commonly Major and Minor Modes. occurs in the minor mode than Ba ; : In S although the same cannot be said of r f Soh, which is much less frequently II]. met with in the minor than Se. The d_ diagram at the side shows in the left t r hand column the minor mode, and in the right hand the major key, which 1 d has its Doh at the same pitch as the Se t . Lal of the minor. The alternative (s) notes, Soh and Ba, are in brackets. } Theremaining discrepancies are shown by the horizontal lines to be at Doh m S and Fah. r f This modern minor mode, developed Iº. historically from the old mode on d Lah, is characterised by pathos and solemnity. Its effect on the mind is however, influenced by the speed of the music ; when this is rapid the *.*.*** effect is quaint and even jovial. ***. The alteration of Fah and Soh into Ba and MUSIC. 267 Se is, as we have seen, a direct imitation of the major mode, and is designed to make the effect of harmony Satisfactory. When Ba and Se are frequently used in a passage, the only distinguishing tone left to define the minor mode is Doh (see the diagram). Musicians who have founded their theory on intervals Only, have been led to regard the minor mode as a variation of the major scale. The two scales which are given side by side in the diagram they regard, in short, as one, except that the minor has its third tone flattened and its sixth and seventh notes variable. If the sound of Doll in the right-hand column were G, they would call it the “key of G major,” and the left-hand column the “key of G minor.” We regard this view as historically wrong, as well as practically inconvenient. It leads singers into inistakes through forgetting the modifications of the minor, and it requires them to treat Fah When it occurs in the minor as a tone out of the scale, instead of an integral part of it. When we come to the staff notation we shall find that it supports our view, and that to give the same signature to a major and its tonic minor would introduce great complexity. The Scales which we regard as related are d! the major, and the minor mode which springs out of its sixth tone. The dia- Erroneous views, t; gram at the side shows the major key 1 1 and its relative minor. The use of se this term relative minor by musicians S (s) expresses the musical fact that the relation of the two scales given at f f the side is far more intimate than m m i that of the major and its tonio minor. r r In actual composition the change to the relative minor or major is over- d d whelmingly more frequent than to ti the tonic minor or major. The stu- dent who regards Doh as the key- centre of the minor, will be in little danger of confusing the two. For purposes of harmony a set of names is used which is common to both major and minor, and the student should now be made acquainted with them. They are given at the side. Soh, being in- º"... I Doh–LAH Tonic. cidental tones • in the minor, TE — SE Leading note. LAH Names for tones. I3a and, have no names. Thus it will be seen that Lah is the tonic of the minor, and FAH | Sub-mediant. SOH — ME Dominant. FAH –RAY Sub-dominant. Do), of the ME ! Mediant. major ; Me the DOH - mediant of the RAY – TE Supertonic. major and Doh DOH LAH Tonic. of the minor, etc. The meaning of the names is for the most part obvious. The way in which the fifth tone above the tonic dominates over it will be appreciated when we consider harmony. The mediant is half way between the tonic and dominant, and the sub-mediant is a similar distance belon, the tonic to that which the mediant is above it. Super-tonic (above tonic) and sub-dominant (under dominant) show the place of these tones, and the leading tone leads by the smooth ascent of a little step to the tonic. In Tonic Sol-fa notation, when the music is in the minor mode, we write after the words “key C,” “key Bb,” etc. (which show the place of Doh) the words “Lah is A,” “Lah is G,” etc., to show the place of Lah. For more on this distinction between Key and Mode, see Mr. Curwen’s “Musical Theory,” Book II. The following exercises The use of illustrate the use of the minor the Minor Mode mode in music, alternating with illustrated. l its relative major, and employing Bah and * 5 tone of the major, and Lah as the Se. KEY B2, Lah is G. |m ird till:--als ºf mirm:--ºlli, a m +|d mls ºf |m rid till, I – | ##################EE KEY F. |d :m s :f | :d |m r|d :f |m :rld :r Im–ld :r |d still, :ti lºsell, :ti | d ims :tid:— | #-F################## KEY A. Lah is F: |m|| :d ti illneſse, | hitla :m r:altº- —rm: | d t|d :ti | lºselºr | d:till:- —|| 268 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. REY A. —s dis, ll, tir d:tiºn, |ba, sell, it [1, -r ‘d tºl, tºl, | se-basem, | lºam r | a- These exercises all exemplify change of mode. Notice the imitations between major and minor which they contain. Read the first six notes Of the first exercise as tonic, dominant, Sub- dominant, etc., of the minor. Now read the Inext six notes in the same way as major, and they will be found to bear the same names. Seek for other imitations in each of the exercises. Besides changing the mode, we may change simultaneously the key and the mode, which j T TEEEEEEE HHHHHHHHHH H H-H ſ] *:::===========#########| f a | produces a delightful effect. The most frequent change of this sort is to the minor • mode of the first flat key. The Changes of student who constructs a modu- Key and Mode. lator will see that the new notes required for this, expressed in the old key, are Ta and the sharp of Doh, which we call De. Properly expressed, Ta is the new Fah, and De the new Se. The following is a fragment of a tune which passes into the “first flat minor”:— KEY G. si | 11 : ti | d ; tı d : r m : f |m : r | r : de | r :— || f. C. or, si | 11 : tº d ; tı |d : r m : fá' | t : 1 || 1 : se | 1 – || Q__*: TZT ºr ſ — —ſ-— 1 | | (YEEE ======E zT& \Si2 } GP H=== *===E=====He | t— º – I !--— –––––H f The following passes into the “first sharp minor ’’:— KEY G. : m | r — : de | r :– : m | f : — : 1 |S – : f |m : re : m s :— : fe m :—|| D t, Lah is B. or, m | r :— : de | r — : m | f : — : 1 |S – : f |ml : Se : 1 d' :— : t | 1 :- || * I n n 1 ##EEEEEEEEEPE*=E======Ele-º-Hi E================###= The student must distinguish between the use of Fe, Re, De, and even of Se, as chromatic notes which do not change the key, and transi- tional notes which effect a change. It is, however, impossible to do this with certainty without understanding harmony and the habits of chords. As a general rule, the presence of a contradictory note in the same or another part immediately after the accidental (Doh, after Dé, Soh after Se, etc.) shows there has been no transition. We shall consider transi- tions of two, three, and more removes later on, when treating of the staff notation. ºx tº es ºscºe eX: ºs ºn - * - C.C. CSCCºzoolºo ce s sº #: §ºcº G & º: §§ §§§º * * * º: - tº ººººººººº ºSº - º §ºść º §§ ºlº’s º ººzºº/AºN&º •lºººººººººº. S jº º *2N ££S$3& §3 NººS 5. t C C º VIII. WE will now proceed to place before our readers a series of copies, comprising the com- º plete alphabet of the small letters, ** accompanying them by full ex- * planations of the method of form- ing each character. These copies are of the size ordinarily termed large-text, as explained in the graduated scale (Fig. 7). The limits of Our column naturally preclude us from present- ing copy-slips of the usual length ; but this is not material, as of course the student will repeat the copy across the entire width of his writing- book, and thus render each line complete. Before commencing to write, it will be well - - - - - - - --arer-esº-º-º-º-º-º-- ...--- - - - - - - - - - - - - * * * * Text }__ 3 * Text IIl P — — — — —a- or läin * !------——---- 11. Text } Round Smālī ſ* ---F.- *in Z____J.3in) ºf jºfºni. FIG. 7–SIZEs of HANDs. that he should read again the analysis of the letters in a preceding article. To render the explanations more clear and explicit, that por- tion of each letter contained between the ruled lines in which an o stands will be called the PEAWMAWSEIIP. 269 “body’ of the letter; that part which rises above the upper line will be termed the “top,” and the stroke which descends below the lower line will be the “tail”: for instance, 0 and a have a “body” Only, d has a “top” and “body,” and g a “body” and “tail.” This premised, we begin with the most simple letters. CLASS I.- At fig. 8 are shown those letters which "T" depend en- tirely or ; , mainly upon the “pot- hook ’’ and “hanger,” or top and bot- to m turn. These are i, mºn,”, and u. There is a slight additional feature in the r, but not sufficiently pronounced to . Tenno Ve it from being classed with the others. These five 3, I Gº a 1 1 “body "let- ters. The first, i, which is the most ele- m ent a ry form in the alphabet, the student has already learned to make, it being merely the short equal downstroke gradually tapering off at the bot- to m, a n d terminating with a fine up turned stroke rising to the cen- tral dotted line. The dot of the i. should be carefully made, as a c i r c ul a r point in the j___/ line of incli- nation of the down stroke —in such position, in fact, that if it were itself continued as a stroke it would coincide with that already made, and turn the i into a kind of short W. This dot should be made at designated sº -6 r • ----------- re-ºr-sa-- FIG. 8.—BODY LETTERS. --------1- ----- FIG. 9–TOP-STRORE LETTERS. as possible. It is of particular - FIG. 10–THE O SERIES. ceding, with the exception that ſ *****--------- ~~~~~~º- º--- ------- < C’ FIG. ll.—TAILRD LETTERs. {2} turn. the line d as shown, which seems to be a pro- portionate distance from the letter, although some teachers prefer to place it higher. , next letter, ; m, consists The of the top- turn twice with a third stroke hav- ing the top and bottom. The hair-stroke at each top commences at the middle dotted line, b, and the bottom turn is brought up to it also. Care should be taken that the down- strokes are kept equi- distant : to ensure this lightly ruled S 1 o p in g lines may be used for a little while, but all such leading-strings should be relinquished as soon consequence th a t t he upper and lower curves S h O u l d h a V e t he same width, as it is a very com- mon error to make One In a T TO W 6 I’ than the Other. The next letter, n, is, of course, precisely the same as the pre- it dispenses with the first stroke, and there- fore calls for no remark. The 7" is One of those let- ters which exhibit :l peculiarity excluding it from strict classific a- tion. It con- sists pri- marily of the “pot- hook,” with the addition of a new element—that, namely, of a fine hair- stroke on the right-hand side, which may be made by bringing the pen upwards diagonally across the downstroke in such manner that it 270 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Starts from the downstroke at the central dotted line, and curves upward in a flowing sweep until it reaches the top line. The pen is then brought downwards with an increased and instantaneous pressure, which is gradually lightened as the pen passes into another graceful oval curved hair-stroke, as shown, ending (if the r is standing alone) at the top line. The next letter, w, is composed of the bottom turn, and requires no elucida- tion. CLASS II.-The second group of letters, ac- cording to the rough classification which we “T , have adopted, is that comprising º what may be called the “top- ſº stroke letters,”—those, namely, which, while combining varied elements, have yet the common peculiarity of rising above the upper line bounding the body of the o and similar letters. This class includes the l, b, d, J., k, and t (fig. 9). The l may be taken as the typical character, and presents no difficulty to the learner, being in fact simply the straight 3troke given in our first lesson, with the addi- tion of a turn at the bottom. This letter is com- . menced at the line e, which is half an inch above the line c, and the l is therefore twice the length of the body of an i. The hair-stroke of the bottom turn is brought up to the line c, and there connects with the succeeding letter, at a distance equal to that between the two strokes of an n, or a w. The letter b commences at the same height as the l, and continues like it with the bottom turn ; but the hair-line of this is brought up with the oval curve termi- 2nated by one of a semicircular character. Care should be taken to connect the b care- fully with the letter which follows it. The hair-stroke should be curved slightly to the left after it has passed the ruled line b in its upward course, until it reaches the line c. When it is joined to an e succeeding, the loop of the b must be continued down to the middle line b, flowing into the ascending line of the e. With the letter d we come to a new element. Here the body of the letter is formed by an 0. The student is already familiarised with this form from the elementary exercises, and the other constituent of the Jetter is simply the l. It must, however, be borne in mind that this thick downstroke touches the o only, but does not cut it. The h consists of a straight line starting, like the l and the b, from the ruled line e. To this stroke the double turn (fig. 2) is added. We must repeat in connection with this letter the caution that this curve should be of the same width at top and bottom, as shown. The letter k begins with the plain straight stroke similar to that of the j, ; but the distinctive element Superadded is unlike any other primary form in the alpha- bet, and may be defined as a double turn, with a small loop on the left side in its centre. In the complete letter this loop should be placed just above the middle line b, as indicated in the example. The double turn of the k must have its upper and lower curve carefully formed of the same size, and its connection with the following letter is made in precisely the same manner as that of the h. The last letter of the top-stroke class, t, is of less altitude than the others, its upper portion starting from the ruled line d and being consequently only half as high above the body letters o and a as are l or b. The crossing of the t should be a little above the line c, as indicated in the Copy. d CLASS III.-Letters founded upon the o, or in which that form largely enters, may fitly be classed together. These are 0, a, d, g, 7, and subsidiarily G and e (fig. 10). We have already spoken of the formation of the letter o, and have only here to say that it should be commenced by a hair-line a little above the middle line b, be carried upwards and over to the left with a symmetrical sweep, Swell out to its full thick- ness on the left-hand side, tapering off again to a hair-line below as it curves round, and, ascending on the left, end at the point at which it began. The upward hair-stroke in both its halves is made in a precisely similar manner to other hair-strokes—viz., by the top of the nib. There are various methods of connecting the o with the following letter. The fine connecting line may be carried direct from the hair-line of the o, as shown in the example given, or a The “o” foun- dation series, small dot or little loop may be made at its start- ing-point. The junction of this connecting stroke with the hair-line commencing the following letter may in some cases modify the regular formation of the latter. Thus, letters formed with the top turn or the double turn, which usually starts from the middle line b, could Scarcely reach so low when they have to be Subjoined to the o, or the junction would be very ungraceful. Therefore, m, m, v, as, y, when following o, must be connected by the hair-line being merged skilfully into the hair-line of their upper turn at about midway between the ruled lines b and c. In the g a new and dis- tinct element enters, it being a tailed and looped character. When it is analysed it will be found to consist of an o and a stroke which, commencing full and square at the line c, passes downward below the body of the letter, until at the lower ruled line fit begins gradually to taper off, and making a curve to the right at the line g, turns upward with a graceful sweep, and crossing its downstroke a little above the line f, passes up to make its connection with the next letter. It should be borne in mind that, as with a and d, the downstroke must touch the 0 of the body, but not cut it, and precaution must be taken that the ascending loop is kept quite clear of the o of the body, and does not cut it. The letter q is composed of the o for the body of the letter, this being followed in immediate juxtaposition by a downstroke, which begins at the line c and is continued past the lines a and f, a little below the latter of which it is tapered off and sweeps round to the right in a curve somewhat narrower than that of a pot- hook, this fine upstroke being continued up to the central line b, to connect with the following letter. The letter e partakes in some measure of the o form. It should be begun at the central line b with a fine hair-line, which sweep- ing easily first to the right curves round at top, and descending on the left, gradually increases AAWCIENT' HISTOR Y. 271 in thickness, until at the line b it attains the same breadth as the a or o: thence it tapers , , , off again to the bottom turn, the The "e" ºf hairline which concludes it being *...*.* brought up to the line j. The O ' ' Ser16S, 6 has a general resemblance to the last letter, but its method of formation is Somewhat different. It is begun at about the Same distance from the lines b and c as the o, with a carefully-made dot rather less in size than that placed above the i ; from the lower part of this dot a fine hair-line is commenced, which passes to the right and upwards in a circular curve, which merges into the top turn, the stroke then thickening and following the Same COntOur as an e. In our next article we shall proceed to the fourth class—-that in which the tail or down- ward stroke elemententers. These letters are shown in fig. 11. But we have given the student enough to practise upon for the present. VIII. THE BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN EMPIRES (continued). THE sudden and startling revival of the Assyrian power appears to have excited the jealousy of the Babylonian king, Nabu-pal-idina, who readily re- plied to an appeal for assistance made to him by Sadadu, king of Suhi, or Shua, a territory near the junction of the Khabour and the Euphrates. The capital, Suri, was on the eastern bank of the latter river, and there the Shuite and Babylonian forces were concen- trated, protected by entrenchments. Assur attacked with his customary impetuosity. The city was stormed and, after two days' desperate fighting, captured, Sadadu and seventy of his followers escaping only by swimming across the Euphrates. Fifty Babylonian carriages, Zabdan, brother of the king of Babylon, the Jealousy of Babylonia, leader of the army, Bel-pal-idina, and three thousand warriors were captured, and a consi- derable amount of treasure was taken possession of by Assur, who set up in the city a memorial of his conquest. The king of Babylon learned by this bitter experience that he was unable to cope with the powerful monarch of the northern empire, and refused further assistance to the Shuites, who, after the return of Assur to his own country, broke out into revolt, and strengthened by the assistance of the Lage and Hindena, their neighbours on the west of the Euphrates, an- Inounced their independence, and, crossing the river, marched into the Assyrian dominion. The expedition was a failure. Swiftly re- tracing his steps, Assur drove them back with immense loss, and when they fled across the river, his engineers speedily constructed a flotilla of boats, by which his force crossed. The revolted country was reconquered, and two strong fortresses, one on each side of the Jºuphrates, were built and garrisoned for the purpose of maintaining the Assyrian Supremacy. Having extended his conquests into the region between the Tigris and Euphrates, and compelled minor but hitherto independent chieftains to own his authority and pay tribute, Assur, whose power was now consolidated by the subjugation of the warlike peoples on his border, and the establishment by agreement with Babylon of a definite frontier, turned his attention to the preparation of an expedition of considerable magnitude—nothing less than the invasion of Syria. He had rebuilt the city of Kalekh, twenty miles below the river Mosul, near the junction of the Zab and Tigris, which, founded nearly five hundred years previously by Shalmaneser I., had fallen into decay, and erected a splendid palace, stretching for six hundred yards, by the bank of the great river. To that spot he had conveyed the captives taken in his various expeditions, and by their forced labour erected a city five miles in circumference. Two temples, the remains of which contain many fine sculp- tures, have recently been revealed. Starting from Kalekh, about 870 B.C., the ambitious and fierce warrior-king crossed the Tigris and, at the head of a large and well- equipped army, advanced to the Euphrates, which he crossed, receiving tribute at every station of his journey. The most influential king of the Hittites, Sangara, of Ratchemesh, submitted to him ; and the triumphant march was continued towards the range of Lebanon. The rivers Abre and Orontes were passed ; the kings of Patina and Kunulu offered treasure ; and at length Assur-nazir-pal, king of Assyria, at the head of a powerful army, and receiving the homage of tributary kings, reached the shores of the “great sea”—the Mediterranean. The merchants of Tyre and Sidon and the other wealthy ports of Phoenicia acknowledged his su- premacy, and vied with each other in adulation. Bnriched by magnificent presents, and bearing with him cedar-wood from the hill-sides of Lebanon, the great monarch who had restored the power and military renown of the Assyrian empire, returned to the palaces, temples, and great cities he had founded on the Tigris. Three years afterwards he undertook another expedition of conquest, reaching Amida (near Diarbeker, to the south of the Taurus range), subduing kings and chiefs and annexing their territories. This splendid despot, this military leader, prompt in resolution, swift in action, to whom defeat was unknown, dauntless and pitiless, a veritable man of “blood and iron,” died about 860 B.C. He was not only a warrior, but a founder of cities, an encourager of arts and sciences, a practical ruler of unusual ability. He rebuilt the palace and the temple of Istar at Nineveh, and the temple so long hidden in the mound at Balawat, the discovery of which by Mr. Rassam we have alluded to. The palace, temple, and large city of Kalekh, erected by Invasion of Syria. Death of Assur-nazir-pal, 272 THE UAVIVERSAI, INSTRUCTOR. him, have been mentioned; and public works, such as canals, were constructed by his order. Mr. Layard and Mr. Rassam have made exca- vations at Kalekh, the capital city of ASSur's empire, and laid bare the greater portion of the temple dedicated to Istar, the Assyrian Venus, a building a hundred and fifty feet long and ninety feet wide, with a richly-decorated watch- tower that rose high above the surrounding buildings. “Around its base,” says a recent writer, “were clustered the groups of temples and shrines, the memorials of the pious fervour of the kings of nations, and in whose schools and colleges were trained a host of priests and scribes who were to rule and regulate the affairs of the great Assyrian empire. South- ward along the river's bank rose the marble palaces of the great king, before whose bull- guarded portals representatives of half the more than probably be willing to throw off the yoke of the son. Shalmaneser, however, inherited the war- like tastes of Assur, if not all his astuteness and indomitable will. Early in his reign he carried his arms into the rocky fastnesses of the northern part of his empire. He took Aridu, the capital of a chief named Ninni, and in that city received tribute from the sur- rounding districts. Then, through a rugged, mountainous country, he reached and destroyed Hupuskia, the chief city of Nairi, the king of which fled to the mountains with the scattered remnant of his army, but was pursued and attacked with great slaughter and loss of chariots and horses. On the shores of Lake Wan, that broad sheet of water lying high up in the mountains be- tween eastern Armenia and the north of tº - - - - º t | - . ." § r Mill. Hºlſº *-* * †-º'-- --wrº- - | tº. ==º/ º Sºśs š=== - š y § S= % | ... Tº º : Aft wº sº *: § Yº ſº - :- >> .####: r tº , |\º º - - - % * . =-2 * & 3 % 2 * - 2 & Tºº?! FVº2-2: 2: ** A \ $º .* É , yº: º: - ~. a. * : - ------ - , º: : '•2. ====<-r -> --- - - - - SID ON. nations of the then known world rendered tribute and service to his lordly rule.” On the death of Assur, Shalmaneser II., his son, inherited not only the crown of g Assyria but the responsibilities s:#. : a great empire which had een held together by the energy and Sagacity of his predecessor, but contained within itself the elements of discord. The north-eastern tribes subdued by Assur were ready to rise into new revolts, should the hand of the new king prove weak ; Babylon, the great rival, was quiescent, but it might be only for a time, and Ready to seize any favourable opportunity of revenging itself on its heredi- tary enemy ; and the Hittite and Syrian kings, who stood between the Assyrians and the mer- chants of Phoenicia, between the Euphrates and the Great Sea, although they had sub- mitted and paid tribute to the father, might Kurdestan, has been found a memorial tablet recording that Shalmaneser conquered Suguni, a fortress of Aramu, king of Ararat, and four. teen other towns. The lake, then known as the Sea of Nairi, is almost divided into two parts, and at the eastern extremity of the smaller lake, near the modern boundary of Persia, and about sixty miles to the south of Mount Ararat, was the great city of Arné, the site marked by the modern Turkish village Arnis. The bronze gates found in the mound of Balawat exhibit a very vivid representation of the siege of this Siege of Arné, City. It appears as strongly fortified, and situated on a rock of considerable elevation ; and we are led to suppose by the sculptures that the forces of the king of Ararat had re- treated within the walls, and that the Assyrians Were advancing to the attack. Bands of archers are approaching, protected by shields; chariots A WOIEWT HISTORY. 273 are advancing over heaps of slain and wounded; and the king, accompanied by generals and armour-bearers, watches the progress of the assault. The camp of the Assyrians appears regularly planned and divided into four quar- ters; and the accumulation of stores and pre- paration of food are shown, and oxen and sheep are being driven in by the foraging parties. Another bronze sculpture represents the siege of an even stronger city in this district. There is an outer wall, with battlements and towers, and from the centre rises a lofty and strong citadel. Beneath the walls a battle is raging, the mountaineer defenders repelling with admirable courage the advance of the Assyrian chariots, and nothing daunted by the shower of arrows. Clad in short tunics, and with crested helmets, armed only with swords and lances, they present a firm front to the heavily armed southern warriors, and are seen Tushing down the neighbouring hills eager for arose on the border of the western part of Shalmaneser's dominions. Ahuni, ſº a prince whose territory extended . beyond the Euphrates, attempted King Ahuni, to recover the independence of which he had been deprived by Assur-nazir-pal. With quick marches, Shalmaneser reached the eastern bank of the river (having on his way destroyed Lahlahte, one of the chief towns of Ahuni). where he found the rebellious chief with his army drawn up to oppose him. Victory was easy; and Ahuni fled across the river, whither he was speedily followed by the Assyrians on , rafts of stretched skins, on which earth and planks were placed, forming pontoons, and on inflated skins, clinging to which the soldiers passed the stream in Safety. Ahuni suffered another and a greater defeat ; and alarmed by the advance of the victors, many of the princes on the west of the Euphrates submitted. Ahuni, however, was resolute even in adver- TY RE. the fray. In the rear of the city, reinforce- ments are collecting, and on the battlements are old men, women, and children, regardless of danger in their eagerness to watch the fight. In vain the brave defence | Shalmaneser was again victorious, and neighbouring kings and chiefs hastened to send presents to him, hoping to avert the danger which threatened them. Horses, oxen, sheep, and goats were among the offerings made, besides the Bactrian or double-humped camel, which, perhaps, it was thought, might be pleasing to the king, whose father had formed in the gardens of the palace at Kalekh a collection of strange animals taken in his varied hunting and mili- tary expeditions, and which even included the huge hippopotamus, a strange beast indeed to the Assyrians. The subjugation of the nations at the base of Ararat was scarcely completed when troubles WOL. I. sity, and was supported by the kings of Samala, Patini, and Karchemesh, who remembered how they had been compelled eleven years before to pay tribute to Assur. The combined forces met the Assyrians in Samala, and were utterly defeated. The Orontes was then crossed, the kingdom of Yazbuk subdued, Burante the king being taken prisoner, and the Mediterranean was once more reached by an Assyrian con- queror, who set up a memorial on its shores. The defeat suffered by Ahuni and his allies did not discourage them ; and hardly had Shalmaneser returned to Kalekh than another attempt was made to achieve independence. Ahuni was again driven beyond the Euphrates, his towns and villages were destroyed, and heavy tribute was again enforced from him and the king of Karchemesh. Ahuni, who appears to have been a man of great courage and indomitable spirit, withdrew beyond the 18 274 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. river, abandoning his territories on the eastern side, which were immediately annexed, and formed into Assyrian colonies. For three years the war was carried on in guerilla fashion by Ahuni and his associates, who availed them- selves of the mountainous nature of the country, which was unfavourable to the move- ments of the heavily-equipped forces of the Assyrian monarch. The war spread northward towards Ararat, which was again invaded by Shalmaneser, who drove King Aramu to the mountain fastnesses, and wasted the cultivated parts of his dominions. In 856 B.C., Ahuni made one more stand against the forces of the empire, in a district named Sitamrat, a Tugged and difficult country on the west of the Upper Euphrates. His de- feat was complete, and, utterly broken in power, the brave prince was compelled to surrender himself, his people, and his territories to the conqueror. Shalmaneser was now master of the western bank of the Euphrates, and the way was clear for the great project of invasion and conquest for which he had long been preparing. Ahuni, the king of Karchemesh (the Catche- mish of the Book of Chronicles and the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah), and the other chiefs on the western bank of the Euphrates, surrendered to the irresistible Assyrian, and paid tribute. - a tº The Balawat gates represent San- Paying tribute gara king of Karchemesh making his payments, with this inscription: “The tribute of Sangara, king of the people of Gar- gamis (Karchemesh), I received.” There is another memorial of this event inscribed on a monolith erected near Diarbekir, on the Tigris, which tells us that the tribute consisted of “three hundred talents of gold, one hundred of silver, three humdred talents of copper, the same amount of iron, one thousand plates of copper, a thousand woven and dyed dresses, the robes of the king's daughters, precious stones and other rich presents, and a thousand sheep and oxen.” In addition to this enforced tribute, which must have severely taxed the resources of San- —- gara, a yearly payment was imposed on him; and then Shalmaneser marched to Halman (the modern Aleppo), and there offered sacri- fices to Rimmon, the patron deity of the city, whom some identify with Vul, the “storm-god.” of the Assyrians. It will be remembered that in the narrative of the cleansing of Naaman the leper (2 Kings V.), we are told that Naaman's master, the king of Syria, worshipped in “the house of Rimmon.” - § º § º #º } - - - Sºl. §: & - - Sºº-ºº: IX. DIPHTHONGS-(§ 52 continued). ie = i in the middle of a word, when it is not followed by a double consonant : manie- ment, handling (ma-nº-ment) ; Temiement, denial (ye-m?-ment); je manie)'ai, I shall handle (ma-ni-rai); tu n'eniera is, thou wouldst deny (re-m?-rais); ? instead of ic is not unfrequently met with in poetry. At the end of a word, as in patrie, one's own country, read likewise £, thus—pa-ta'?. At the end of a poetical line ie should be dwelt upon, and the e be almost whispered : “Son humeur satirique est sans cesse mourri E I’ar le cowpable emcens de votre flatter IE.” Molière. [Her satirical humour is constantly fed by the guilty incense of your flattery.] In music ié final becomes a double syllable, when e sometimes obtains the same quantity of sound as i, less the time required for breathing before attacking the next note. The following example, however, exhibits the more usual case, that of e shorter than i. This e, which seems so unnatural, is precious in this respect—that it lets the sound of gently die out. (See § 19 a.) ———** Nº. & a • º-Eºfa-E-F#EEEEº-Eº-Eº-CE: ESE *— TO) *] * , L– t I I t— l— ! t— Aº i e;=#########EEEEEE:#EEEEE Val - lons de l'Hel-vé - ti - E, Ob - jet de mon a- ČížE=E=E======= º *E=== | -H #5–25++2=E====E2E2FF 1 * 2–H H H º mour ! Sa - lut | ter - re ché -Ti -E, Ou ; etc. Words ending in ié would never be met with before a consonant in the body of a poetical line ; before a vowel, however, the case is and music, would then blend with the next word :— “Une vaine folies lenivrant la raison,”—Boileau. different, — the e of ie, both in poetry 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 he sº A | *—s—s H--------|-H l | | †- far-rºº -**-e- –H — ja–N-3 j——N-–=– &= & e H- :== F | *ECEEE ------H •) º 2– 2 Twº U-7 J'a - vais a ton bon - heur Vou - é ma vieJen - tiè - re; etc. FREWCHI PRO WUAVCIATION, 275 ieu = a proper diphthong mostly in mono- syllables and their derivatives; in this diph- thong the sounds i and ew. (See § 37 a) are heard — Dieu, God (dieu) lieu, Spot (lieu) lieue, league (lieu) adieu, farewell (a-dieu) milieu, middle (mi-lieu) banliette, precinct (ban-lieu) piew, stake (piew) &piew, Spear (é-piew) sieur, sir (sieur") monsieur, Mr. (mo-sieu) ln all the above examples eu, with the excep- tion of sieur, has the close sound. In other words, especially in forms derived from verbs, iew forms a double syllable in verse, but a proper diphthong in prose — ambitiewa!, ambitious(am-bi-Si-eu and am-bi-siew) curieua, inquisitive (cu-1”-eu and cu-"iew) inférieur, inferior (in-fé-rº-eur and in-fé-7'ieur) parieur, better (pa-rv-eur and pa-rieur) According to rule $37, give to the termina- tion ieuw the close Sound, and to igw, the open sound of eu. ien = a proper nasal diphthong in many words; the simple vowel i, and the nasal vowel in are both heard : bicn, wcll ; chic n, dog ; 7'ien, nothing; sowtien, Support (cf. § 2 Rem. 3, and $ 50). But ancien, lien, patricien, etc., are read a n-ci-in, li-in, pa- tri-ci-in in verse, and an-civn, liim, pa-tri-ciin in prose. io = prop. diph. presenting both sounds? and o in but few instances : pºoche, mattock, and deri- vatives. The greater number of words—as &tiolé, languid; fiole, vial; mioche, urchin, etc.—offer each a prop. diph. in prose, and two syllables in verse. Brioche, bun : trio, trio, etc., owing to the double articulation, blend i and o less readily in prose than étiolé, etc. ion = a prop. diph. in which the sounds of F. and nasal on are discernible : espion, spy; 'mous étions, we were ; Session, session, etc. In many words ion is treated as a double vowel in poetry — read ºn prose in verse passion pa-sion pa-Si-On nation ma-sion na-Si-On iu = a, d. syll. in which i and u blend more OT less readily in prose, but never in verse:— *ead in prose in verse diurne diurnſ di-ur-ne Fabius Fa-bius Fa-bi-us Héraclius Hé-ra-clius Hé-ra-cli-us sciure siurſ si-u-re oa = a d. syll. in prose as in verse: cloaque (clo-ak), sink ; oasis (0-a-sis), Oasis ; Moab (mo-ab'); Joad (jo-ad). In the words toast and toaster (the latter also written toster), taken from the English, the E. pronunciation is retained: tóst', tàsté. oe=a prop. diph., and Sounds like oi (see below) : moelle (moil'), marrow ; moellon (moi- lon), building-stone, and derivatives. These were formerly pronounced mo-él, mo-é-lon. The particle co before a word beginning with e produces no diphthong; in coefficient, coercitif, coexister, pr. co-e. For ae see § 39. oé, oë, oë = d. sylls. : Woël (No-ºl); poème, poète, cacatoes (po-ém', po-ét', ca-ca-to-es"); coéternel, goéland, goëlette, goémon (co-é, go-8). Till recently, all these words were, with the exception of coéternel, spelt with the diaeresis. ~, oë = a prop. diph. broader than oi (see below), and may be figured by ouá : poéle (m. a wed- ding canopy; f. a frying-pan). Derivatives likewise. oeu = an imp. diph. See § 37. oi = a d. Syll. : Jiéroïque (é-ro-'ik), heroical; Héloïse (e-lo-iz"), Heloise. oi = a prop. diph. in which the sounds ou and a are closely united; quack renders this diph. in English : moisi, mildewed, moia (noi), nut, aroi, king, etc. (Roide, stiff, and derivatives are more generally read, as also more generally spelt, q'aide, 7'éd'.) Great as the number of words containing this diph- thong is, it was still greater 300 years ago. Then, for instance, the word français (French) was spelt and pr. like François (Francis), and que je paransse (that I may appear) presented no difference with la parovsse (the parish). A change due to the influence of Catherine de Medıcı took place in the sixteenth century. The sound ov not existing in Italian, the queen and the numerous Italians, who accompanied her, found it difficult to pronounce it, and converted it into ai (?) in many words, and especially in verbal terminations. Thus françois and que.7c paroisse were pronounced as if they had been written #. and paraisse. Racine, as evidenced by his preface to the Thébaude, was the first to adapt the spelling to the sound by changing ov into av in those words which had been affected by the Italian fashion. Voltaire fully adopted thus system. popularized it, and this Orthography has become known under his name. The Academe proved obdu- rate for a long time, and it was only in the sixth edition of their Dictionary, published in 1835, that the ortho- graphe de Voltaire was recognised by them . It is difficult to say what law presided over the selection of those words which changed owinto av. That the verbal termination should have been affected is quite com- prehensible, as the change was consistent with etymological accuracy. But for the names and ad- jectives of nations the evolution seems based on physiological rather than philological grounds Here at least is a theory which has been put forward. The sound ais being softer and more pleasant to the ear, we take it not only for the name of our own nation, but for the names of those nations that are our nearest neighbours, or for those whom we consider more civilised than the others. To those which are far distant from us in time, as the Carthagimous, the Crétons ; or in place, as the Chumois, the Iroquois ; or to those which popular prejudice shakes us consider as more barbarous, such as the Bavarots, the Hongrots, we give the hard termination which corresponds to the correct or false notion which we have formed of the roughness of their manners. It would be an easy matter to mention cxceptions bearing on every individual point of this argument, which conncides with the facts in the main only. For such words, however, the learner who opens most French books printed fifty years ago has little to guide him in the selection of those nouns and adjectives where the syllable on should be pr, al. It is therefore a matter for surprise that a series of French classics recently brought out in this country should adhere to this old-fashioned spelling. The motive assigned is that the old spelling was retained in pre- ference to an alteration of the text. An alteration of whose text? Certainly not Corneille's, or Racine's, or Molière’s ; for their original texts exhibit several other typographical differences besides that of ov. . Such editions, good as they are from all other polnts of view, needlessly increase the task of the learner, who “gets up ’’ a prescribed author out of anything but a love of pseudo-antiquarianism. oin = a prop. diph. in which the sounds ow and in are thoroughly blending ; see $ 50. Groin (asnout), however, presents two syllables, grow-in. oo = a d. syll. : alcool (al-co-ol), alcohol ; coopérer (co-o), to co-operate ; zoophyte (zo-o). In Flemish words oo = 6; as in Tanloo, Waterloo, etc. oü=a d, syll.: Antimous (am-ti-no-us"). ou = an imp, diph. See § 41. THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTR UCTOR. 3. § --- º - º - * º º: | H º - Tº...? S&Nº. - E. % º º & . A ** º tº º Şişº º Bºº § §§ wº- VIII. THE TIDES. THE regularly recurring tides, or rising and falling of the level of the sea at any particular place, once in about every thir- teen hours, depends upon the attraction of the moon, strength- ened by that of the sun, according to the relative position of these two bodies. The Ocean rises, or flows, as it is called, gradually, about six hours ; it remains stationary about a quarter of an hour, it then retires or ebbs during another six hours, to flow again after a brief repose. In order to understand this, we must be familiar with the fact that all the heavenly bodies exercise, within certain limits, an attractive force on each other, greater in proportion to bulk, but limited by distance and by counter-attractions. Thus, although very much smaller than the sun, the influence of the moon on the earth is greater by reason of its proximity. The rise of the tide, or high water, at any par- ticular part of the carth's surface is caused by the point in question being in the direct line of the lunar attraction, or of the moon’s meridian—that is, the meridian of the carth which the moon is at that time apparently crossing. As the earth revolves daily on its axis, every part of the globe is brought every twelve hours, or thereabouts, to the moon's meridian, and there is high water. The action of the moon's attraction will be best illustrated With the aid of a diagram. Cause of the Tides, Lunar attraction, ë- 27& THE Moon's ATTRACTION. The attraction of gravitation has reference to all matter, Solids and fluids, but may be expected to produce its greatest : effectupon the liquid form of it, so gravitation, susceptible of mobility, and yield- ing to the slightest impression. Suppose ºn the moon, as the force of attraction, varying in power according to distance, it follows that the particles of water at a will be more powerfully acted on by the moon than those at é and f, or than the particles of land at the bottom of the water at b, these being at a greater distance. The waters, therefore, are drawn towards the point directly opposite the moon by the force of her attraction, and bulge out, as in the diagram. Strange as it may at first seem, there is also high water at the exactly opposite part of the earth's surface, the antipodes, at the same time; but the reason is that the particles Of land at c and the earth's centre E will be more powerfully drawn towards the moon than the waters at d, and recede from them, pro- ducing the same effect as though they receded, or TOSe up, from the centre of the earth. High Water is thus produced at a and d, and as the Ocean cannot rise in one place without being correspondingly depressed at another, it is then low water at e and f. In consequence of greater distance, the attrac- tion of the Sun is only about one-third of that Of the moon. But the two attractions some- times act together, and then high or spring tides are the result ; and sometimes in oppo- Sition, and then there are low or neap tides. (We may note here that this use of the word Spring has no connexion with the season of the year, but simply means a rise; and neap is derived from the Anglo-Saxon hºnipian, to cast down, or cause to fall.) When the moon is either new or at the full (a, or c in the accom- panying diagram), its influence and that of * - a * * w sº Hº º º º ** ſº º - as w º t| ". \sº -ºšº VIII. WATER—(continued). WE have already pointed out that the rapidity of evaporation increases with the temperature; that the warmer the air, the greater the amount of water-vapour it is capable of absorb- ing ; and from what we have just stated with regard to the volatile nature of water and its instant conversion into vapour in vacuo, it will FIL LIN G. A BALLOON. be perceived that this result must likewise be affected by the pressure of atmosphere. Sufficient has, however, already been said with regard to evaporation under the head of the atmosphere, and we will now pass on to con- sider some of the attributes exhibited by water under the three forms in which it is known to exist. At all tem- . peratures between 0° and 100° on tº water forms. on the centigrade scale water assumes the liquid form ; above 100°, at the ordinary atmospheric pressure, it passes into the state of a gas ; while at the temperature of 0° under normal conditions it becomes solid. It is well known that ice floats upon, and is there- fore lighter than, water ; consequently ice occupies a larger space than the cor- r e s p on d in g volume of water. Water, on pass- ing into the icy state, expands with a force that is almost illimitable — a force which has been estimated to be equal to that which would be re- quired to reduce it to its original bulk. One of the principal forces at work, breaking up and disintegrating the rocks, is exercised by the water which freezes after having pene- trated into their fissures. Ex- periments have been made with water by confin- ing it in strong air-tight cells or chambers, and exposing it to a temperature below freezing point, the result being in every case to demon- strate, by the bursting of the vessel in which it was hermetically enclosed, the tremendous force exerted by water on passing into the icy state. Water, when reverting from the condition of a solid to that of a liquid, illustrates the truth of the law already enun- ciated, that heat disappears or ***** becomes latent under these cir- wºn. cumstances. This may be demon- e strated in the following manner: If we mix a pint of water at 0° with a pint of water whose temperature is 79°, we shall find that the tem- perature of the mixture will be the mean, or Ice lighter than water, i ; CHEMISTRY. 297 39%.”; but if, on the other hand, we take a pint of water at 79°, and pour it into a vessel con- taining a quantity of Snow or powdered ice, exactly equal in weight to the water, we shall find that when the ice is melted the tempera- ture of the resulting quart of water is 0°, showing that the 79° of heat in the water has only just sufficed to convert the ice into water without raising its temperature. Hence we assume that, in passing from the j 'solid to the º liquid state, a given weight of water takes up or renders latent the same amount of heat that would suffice to raise the tem- perature of an equal weight of water through 79°. The latent heat of water is therefore said to be 79 thermal units, a thermal unit being the amount of heat required to raise a unit weight of water one degree of temperature. That heat, in like manner, becomes latent when water passes from the liquid to the gaseous state, is exhibited, in the phenomenon of boiling. Water, like all liquids, is said to boil when the tension or elastic force of its vapour has OVerCOme the pressure of the atmosphere, and this takes place at the tempe- rature of 100° under the normal pressure of the latter body, the temperature of the steam given off being the same as that of the boiling water. It is found that a given volume of steam at 100°, if passed through water, will suf- fice to raise the temperature of more than five times its own weight of water to 100° or boiling point. To put the facts more exactly, we may say that one volume of steam will raise the temperature of 5-36 times its own weight of water at 0° through 100°, or 536 The latentheat times its weight through 19. ** Hence the latent heat of steam is said to be 536 thermal units. APPARATUS FOR GENERATING: HYDRO Glèn. THE COMPOSITION OF WATER. To one other phenomenon exhibited by water we must draw attention, as it is an example of a wise provision in the economy of nature. We have already drawn attention to the fact that liquids expand under the influence of heat. This is true of water as of all other liquids; and when we say that a body expands by heat, it is of course equivalent to saying that it cont tracts or dimin- ishes in volume as it cools. And herein it is that water exhibits its abnormal pecu- liarity. Water continues to grow denser and heavier as it be- comes colder, un- til the tempera- ture of 4° is reached; at this point the process of condensation is arrested, and water continues to grow some- what lighter un- til the temperature of 0° is attained. In other words, the maximum density of water does not correspond with the minimum of temperature. The importance of this law cannot be over- stated, and we shall realize the fact of its being a wise and bene- ficent dispensa- tion of provi- dence, if we re- flect that were it otherwise, and were water sub- ject to the com- mon law, the coldest water, being the most dense, would naturally sink to the bottom, and the ice would begin to form be- low instead of on the surface, and in a severe win- ter our lakes and rivers would be converted into solid ice, which not all the heat of the suns of the ensuing summer would suffice to thaw. It is well known that the larger and deeper the volume of water, the longer it takes to freeze, under similar conditions. The reason of this will be apparent if we come to consider what actually takes place in nature before a pond or river is frozen. The surface wateris cooled by radiation and evapora- tion, and thus becoming heavier sinks, while the lighter and warmer water below rises to supply Expansion of water by heat, & : | | || t . | ji, i. 298 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. its place. This process goes on until the entire mass has attained the temperature shºw Water of 4°. After this the surface water *:::. never sinks, as, however cold it may become, it is always lighter than the deeper water ; hence the ice begins to form on the top of the water, and the surface is covered with ice, while the temperature of the mass of the water below does not fall below 4° centigrade. THE ELEMENTS. The term element as applied in chemistry has already been defined Sis may show that some of the Same amount of warmth and moisture, effects So various should be evolved in the process of vital action. The number of elements hitherto discovered amounts to nearly seventy, and fresh research will no doubt add to the number from time to time. On the other Number of com- hand, increased powers of analy- * reputed, elements are in reality compounds. Many of the elements are of rare occurrence, and when met with occur only in infinitesi- mally Small quantities, combined with other 'substances. We have 4. not thought it worth Symbol. C. weight. while, therefore, to burden the memory of the reader with the § i; 4 names of elements he A is not likely to hear S 75 of again, and have Ba 137 confined ourselves to Bi 210 enumerating the more B 11 important because the Er 80 | more common among Ca 40 them. Nor have we g I 2 R attempted, for the pre- Cl 35-5 sent, any classification Cr 523 of them into the metals CO 58-7 and non-metals, or Cu 63'5 otherwise, but have F 19 simply transcribed All 197 them in alphabetical |H I succession, giving I 127 against the name of Fe 56 each its symbol, or the Pb 207 letter or letters which Mg 24 stand for it, and which Mn. 55 we shall henceforward Hg 200 use instead of the name Ni 58-7 of the substance itself. N 14 The figures likewise O J 6 affixed to each repre- P 31 sent its atomic or com- Pł, 187% bining weight. This E. 39:1 we may regard, if we Se 79.5 please, as the weight of Si 28 its atom ; at all events, Ag 108 it represents the defi- Na, 23. nite and invariable Sr $1.5 proportion by weight S 32 in which each element Te 129 combines with every Sn 118 other element in all Zn 65°2 its compounds. Weshall.now proceed to be something that is in itself ultimate and Name. indivisible in the sense that it defies Our • * powers of analysis and Aluminium o cannot be broken up Antimony «» or resolved into any- Arsenic . g thing simpler. Water Barium gº is not an element in Bismuth . g the chemical sense of Boron . e the term, because, as Bromine. º has already been Calcium . e shown, it is a com- Carbon . o pound of two constitu- Chlorine . . ent gases, Oxygen and Chromium . hydrogen. Each of Cobalt ſº the latter is, however, Copper o 3. as far as we are aware, Fluorine . o an element, since it Gold º resists our utmost Hydrogen º efforts to resolve it, Iodine g into any simpler con- Iron e stituents. Lead g One of the first facts Magnesium . that engages the atten- Manganese . tion in entering on the Mercury º 9. study of chemistry, and Nickel g which indeed it is Nitrogen . . the special province of Oxygen e that science to reveal, Phosphorus . is that the great ma- Platinum ſº jority of substances Potassium e with which we Selenium º are most familar, Silicon g whether organic or Silver º inorganic, are in reality Sodium e compounds. The ele- Strontium e ments are seldom met Sulphur . e with native or uncom- Tellurium & bined in the inorganic Tin . . & world; in the world of Zinc e o living organisms never. The principal sub- TABLE stances entering into the structure of the bodies of animals and plants are built up out of a comparatively small number of elements. The same elements, com- bined in slightly different proportions, give rise to organic compounds of the most opposite nature and attributes. The scents of different flowers and the flavouring principle of fruits and vegetables, however distinct and charac- teristic, are in reality compounds differing often very slightly in their constitution; and we may well marvel that, growing under similar con- ditions in the same soil, and nourished by the OF RI, EMENTS, to describe the essential attributes and pro- perties of each of the foregoing elements, as well as those of the principal compounds it forms with the other elements. Having al- ready spoken of the three principal ele- mentary gases, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitro- gen, we will take them first in order, giving the precedence to hydrogen as lightest of all bodies, and also as furnishing the stan- dard whereby we estimate the combining weights of all other elements. It thus occu- pies a position of importance quite indepen- dent of its own intrinsic merits. - ANCIEWT HISTORY. 299 A ºś kilº 3. #S C-: º º à--------, -º-º: ASSYRIAN CONQUEST OF SYRIA. ADVANCING from Hamath, Shalmaneser cap- tured three subordinate cities, Adinnu, Barga (or Parga), and Argana; and then found him- self confronted by the most formidable opposi- tion he had as yet encountered,—the combined army of the great Syrian League. Here we find a meeting-point between the monumental and the Biblical narratives; but , , it appears to be necessary to 9hºmºlºgical make a correction in the gene. * rally accepted chronology of Archbishop Usher, which differs slightly from that of Hales. The events about to be nar- rated are stated by the decipherers to have occurred about forty-five or fifty years later than the dates given in the Biblical history. Ahab, king of Israel, and Benhadad are dis- tinctly mentioned in the Assyrian inscriptions in connection with events the date of which is given as 854 B.C.; but Usher calculated that Ahab became king in 918 B.C., and died in 896 B.C.; and Benhadad II. of Syria is stated to have died about 890 B.C. The discrepancy, however, is not of much importance when we consider that there was no exact common standard for the measurement of the year, and the differences that exist between the results of the calculations of modern chronologers. There is an essential agreement of facts which renders a slight disagreement of dates (neces- Sarily somewhat speculative) of comparatively little interest. The Syria (or Aram) of the Hebrew Scrip- tures and of the Assyrian records was the tº gº tº º country to the north-east of Tººle the Jewish kingdom, extending gS, to the upper waters of the Eu- phrates on the east, with the Phoenician coast- land on the west. It was occupied by a num- ber of independent or semi-independent tribes, mostly of Hittite descent. The most powerful king was Benhadad II., whose capital was at Damascus, who is said to have had thirty-two Vassals or tributary kings. Another important prince was Irkhuleni, of Hamath, or Aleppo. These two kings headed the confederation of Syrian chiefs who formed the League, with the intention of resisting Shalmaneser. Benhadad, a warrior of renown, famous in the Biblical narrative for his wars with the kingdom of Israel, was chosen general, and was reinforced not only by Ahab, king of Israel, with whom, we may suppose, he was as yet on friendly terms, but by Egypt. Indeed, we can only parallel the determined attitude of opposition assumed by the western kingdoms by referring to the combination, in the present century, of the great European states against the victorious Napoleon. Shalmameser had crossed the Ruphrates, as Napoleon crossed the Rhine, absorbing weaker states, or reducing their rulers to a state of vassalage, receiving tribute and homage from hitherto powerful monarchs in their own capitals, and garrisoning their fortresses with his own troops. If Syria were subdued, the rich plains and wealthy towns of Phoenicia, the kingdoms of Israel and Judah (weakened by contests and misgovernment), would be at his mercy; and Egypt itself, closely allied by political and family ties with the Jewish people, and recently consolidated and strengthened by the energy and statesmanship of Sheshack (or Shishak) I., might witness with some apprehension the progress westward of the powerful and ambitious warrior-king of the great Assyrian empire. The confederated army, commanded by Ben- hadad (mentioned in the inscriptions as Rim- monidai, or King of the city of & Rimmon), consisted, according Tºšiºn to the Assyrian records, of about 9°nfederation. 80,000 men. The leader himself furnished 20,000 soldiers and 1,200 chariots; the king of Hamath, 10,000 men and about 1,400 chariots and other carriages; Ahab of Israel, 10,000 soldiers and 2,000 chariots; Adunubahal of Sizhana sent 10,000 men; the Egyptian king, 1,000 men; and other princes supplied soldiers and chariots; and 1,000 camels from Arabia. were laden with stores. The Assyrian army was about equal in Inumber to that of the allies, and was attended by a baggage train of 19,000 tents and 1,000 camels. On the black marble obelisk, previously mentioned, there is a very lifelike representation of an elephant, but it is uncertain whether it repre- Sents one of the presents of strange animals made to the conqueror, or whether (which does not seem to be probable) elephants were trained and used for warlike purposes. Karkar, or Aroer, a strongly-fortified town, in which a Syrian garrison had been left, the main body withdrawing to the banks of the Arunta, or Orontes, * near the § -- g rontes, —was, after a vigorous but in- effectual resistance, captured by the Assyrians, who then marched against Benhadad, who had taken up a strong position in broken ground, offering difficulties to an attacking force. The Assyrians advanced steadily, and were received with equal determination. A long and desperate contest ensued, and at length the Syrians wavered. Then the Assy- rian chariots charged with irresistible fury; the allies fell back in disorder, and were driven into the river, where thousands perished. The loss on each side was great. One account says that Benhadad's army lost 14,000 men, but another gives the loss as more than 22,000. The Assyrians suffered so severely, that Shal- maneser abandoned his advance, and returned with the remnant of his great host to his own dominions. Two invasions of Babylonia followed, not for the purpose of ammexing territory, but to assist the young king, against whom a revolt, headed by his brother, had broken out. After a year of peace, employed in superintending the erection of palaces and public buildings, the restless Shalmaneser again resolved on invading Syria, or “the land of the Hittites.” 300 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. The Syrian alliance had been broken, but Ben- hadad, although defeated in battle, was still able to inflict such injury on the invader, that twice, in 840 B.C. and in the following year, the victor obtained but small advantage, and retired to prepare for another and more Vlgorous linvasion. In 846 B.C., at the head of 120,000 men, probably the largest army ever raised by the Assyrians, Shalmaneser again crossed the Euphrates, and was again vigorously opposed by Benhadad. The Assyrian records claim a vic- tory; but perhaps in this, as in the previous instances, if the Syrians had preserved a history for the perusal of posterity, the other side of the shield might have been presented. In 842 B.C., the disorganized condition of Syria and the kingdoms of Israel and Judea offered new opportunities for carrying out the town, raised the siege, and marched into the land of Bashan, destroying as he went. Jehu, king of Israel, submitted, and paid tribute of gold and silver and other valuables. This was the first time that the Jewish people had paid tribute to an Assyrian king. e The way was now open, and the Great Sea was reached. On the rocks at the mouth of a little stream, the Nahr-el-Kella, or Dog river, near Beyrout, may still be seen six tablets, bear- ing Assyrian figures, and one of them is that of King Shalmaneser; and the Balawat gates represent the sculpture, before which a cere- mony of worship is being conducted, with priests burning incense on an altar. Above is an inscription, “An image over against the great rocks I caused to be made.” Another group on the bronze gates represents a man in the act of cutting the inscription. VIEW ON MOUNT LED ANON. the cherished design of extending the king's . . . . conquests to the Mediterranean Victories in sea-coast. Syria, been killed in battle; the redoubt- able Benhadad of Damascus, the ablest mili- tary commander of his time, was dead; and before his death the Syrian league had dissolved. |Hazael, formerly an officer in the service of Benhadad, now reigned in his stead at Damas- cus, and Jehu had usurped the throne of Israel. Hazael, a soldier of courage, made a stand against the invader at Sanira, a fortified posi- tion on one of the heights in front of the Lebanon range; but his army was inferior in number, and he was completely defeated, with the loss of 16,000 men and about 1,500 chariots and carriages. Hazael fled to Damascus, where he was besieged; but Shalmaneser, after a short time spent in unsuccessful attempts to capture Ahab of Israel had Tyre and Sidon again paid tribute, and we find animated representations of the incident. The king received the offerings on the seashore in the neighbour- hood of Tyre. The strongly- fortified city, with five towers and massive gateways, stands on a rocky Submission of Tyre and Sidon, island, between which and the mainland ships are passing. They have high prows and sterns, and are propelled by broad curved oars. In the centre are piled the valuable articles form- ing the tribute. Men knee-deep in the Surf pull the boats ashore, and carriers bear the bales of cloth and trays and bars of precious metals to the spot where Assyrian Soldiers receive them, and marshal a procession. Groups of Tyrian nobles, sailors (wearing the loose woven cap still to be seen worn by the maritime people of the Levant), and others, are on the Shore. FREAVCEI GRAMMA.R. Shalmaneser had now been nearly twenty years on the throne of Assyria. The remainder of his long reign was occupied with a succes- sion of wars, which, however, added little to the extent of his empire or his personal influence. Syria was again visited in 839 B.C., and more tribute taken from Tyre and Sidon. The power of the Assyrian arms was felt in the eastern part of Asia Minor and in Armenia, or the territories lying around the base of Ararat. The last years of Shalmaneser's life were embittered by the rebellion of his eldest Son, who was defeated by Samsi-vul Bººk a younger brother * successor º to the crown. The old king died iri 825 B.C., having reigned thirty-five years. He left an empire comprising all the country between the Lower Zab on the south and Lake Van on the north, including the region watered THE NOUN (continued).-APPLICATION. EXERCISE XVI. 1. QUI vous a donné cette fleur ! La dame who given this qui a tant de fleurs dans son jardin. 2. Quelle which langue parlez-Vous? Je parle deux langues, le speak speak français et l'anglais. 3. De quel pays Viennent from what CO11262 ces plantes? Elles croissent dans les pays those grow i iſºlº Ǻ ºš *::::::::=ºš § #: º #. \? 2. à s t | j & tiºn. | | - i ==#= w *º- # * I -—— grº-e- É {-ºº-ºº Sºx gº 3:\ºdºu -: tº: jīº § i. g: st * º tº a ---. ...}_2====$ sº s-sº § §§§ * * * & Jº sT-7 Sk- § º-riſ, t sº §" ‘ſ. t; §§ t s F. Sº sº *~~~ ==ºº-ºº: ãº: & * : 1 |...Nº i. | i | * { º § § §§ tº: Sºsº º - - is "ſº !!! Š I)AMASCUS, by the Khabour, and the whole of Upper Syria to the Mediterranean. On the east, a portion of Persia was included in the Assyrian dominions. He was a greater warrior than statesman, and ambitious as he was, failed to avail himself of the opportunities afforded him, neglecting to follow up his victories, and allowing his oppo. ments time to recover their strength after the blows he had inflicted. He superseded Nine- veh as the royal residence and capital of the empire by Kalakh, where he built an enormous tower, 167 feet square, still standing. ASSur, the ancient capital, was also restored by him. Here we may fitly close a great, chapter Of Assyrian history, reserving for other articles the annals of the later times of the empire-3 subject worthy the attention of every student of the human Tace, 4. Nous servira-t-on une perdrix’ shall we be helped to On nous a promis trois perdrix. we have been promised * son fils? Son fils et ses filles ét chauds. 5. Ou ètait 21"Q.S. aient en France. 20.67°6 ------- 6. Peut-on comprimer un gaz’ CGI 72 compress sont compressibles. compressible Tous les tableaux noirs Sont dams la Salle Tous les gaZ all e 7. Ouest le tableau noir 7 all d’étude. 8. Quel àge a votre neveu ! Il est how old is your aussi àgé que vos neveux. 9. Cinq centimes t ... as your ne font-ils pas um sou? Si, et dix centimes do they not make font deux SOus. make 3yes 10. Fermerez-vous la porte au will you shut with the | 302 TETE UNTVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Nous mettrons les deux verrOuS. ll. shall d)'auv ， Commentforme-t-onlepluriel de bijou ? On écrit how does one form acrites bijoux, par un a. 12. A-t-on creusé un canal ! verrou ? dug · On a creusé deux canaux. 13. Recevez-VOuS do you get un journal ? Non, monsieur, je ne lis pas les si)° read journaux. 14. Où avez-vous mis mon cheval ? 2(# Je 1'ai mis avec mes chevaux. 15. D'où vient him put with avhence comes cet éventail ? De Paris, où l'on fait de beaux are made beautiful éventails. 16. Le navire a-t-il perdu , son lost gouvernail ? Il a perdu deux gouvernails dans lost ce voyage. 17. A-t-il les yeux bleus ? Non, il a les yeux gris. 18. Où se meuvent les astres ? Cl)°e 772O Ul,7? Ils se meuvent dans les cieux (or dans le ciel). are moving - 19. Quand les oiseaux commencent-ils leurs avhen do-commence their° travaux ? Au printemps. 20. Combien as-tu de fusils ? Je n'ai qu'un fusil de chasse. only EXERCISE XVII. 1. Of which black boards are you speaking ? quels parlez-vous 2. Where did you shoot these partridges ? avez-vou8 tiré 3. From what countries do these birds come ? quels viennent 4. How many canals have been dug ? 5. How a-t-on creusés many bolts are there on these doors ? 6. y a-t-il à Y# Arethey manufacturing muskets? 7. From what fabriquent-ils quel garden do these flowers come ? 8. The boats viennent ' have lost their rudders. 9. I read allthe news- perdu leurs lis tous papers. 10. The birds begin their labours in commencent leurs ( Zt, 11. Do you get these plants from 7"GGG Ue2:-UOllS France ? 12. Do the stars move in the heavens ? se meuvent-ils - 13. His sons are older than your daughters. plus âgé que vos 14. What languages can you speak ? quelles parlez speak three languages,—English, French, and parle ſ§an. 15. Where did you put the fans and l'italien avez-vous mis the jewels ? 16. With whom will your nephews .,, avec , qui Q)O8 come ? 17. Will you shut the doors ? 18. Are viendront-ils fermerez-vous his eyes (his eyes, are they) grey or blue ? They spring. I can O76 are neither grey nor blue, they are black. 19. me sont ni mi Five centimes make one halfpenny. 20. That font © lady has left these seven newspapers in our lais8é motre claSS-TOOm, EXERCISE XVIII. (In this exercise, which advanced pupils alone should attempt, put the Words Written in italics into their proper plural.) l. Tu peux choisir : ou de manger trente ail ou de souffrir trente bon coup de gaule (La Fontaine). 2. Les ail, dont le calice est en Ombelle, appartiennent à la famille des liliacée. 3. Que la terre est petite à qui la voit des ciel ! (Delille). 4. La forme des ciel de lit ne reste pas toujours la même. 5. Se glorifier de la noblesse de ses aïeul, c'est chercher dans les racine les fruit qu'on devrait trouver dans les branche. 6. Ses deux aïeul assistaient à son mariage. 7. Ce peintre traite les ciel avec beaucoup de soin. 8. Les alibi sont fréquent en matière criminelle. 9. Les San-benito étaient des casaque de couleur jaune dont on revêtait ceux que l'inquisition faisait conduire au sup- plice. 10. Voilà bien de petits item ! ll. Les mauvais écoliers sont accablé de pensum et privés d'exeat ; les bon obtiennent des satisfecit et ont, à la fin de l'année, des prix ou des accessit. 12. Les in-octavo sont relié en chagrin, les in-quarto en maroquin, et les in-folio en veau. 13. On donne le nom de chapelet à un certain nombre de grain enfilé, sur lesquels on dit des avé, et à chaque dizaine desquels il s'en trouve de plus gros sur lesquels on dit des pater. 14. Les carbonaro formaient en Italie une société politique et secrète. 15. Nous avons chanté des Te Deum que bien des mères tradui- saient en de profundis. 16. L'Eglise multiplie les alléluia pendant le temps pascal. 17. Le tribunal espagnol de l'inquisition a fait exécuter environ cinquante mille autodafé. 18. Des ecce-homo bien remarquable ont été peint par le Titien, le Corrège, Rembrandt, Rubens, et Callot. 19. Les mots latin qui suivent in- diquent une prière ou un chant de l'Eglise par Son premier mot : des alléluia, des amen, des avé, des bénédicité, des confiteor, des credo, des Kyrié,* des magnificat, des pater, des requiem,* des stabat,* etc. 20. Les dilettante sont des amateur passionné de la musique ; on étend le terme aux amateur de peinture, de sculpture, d'objet d'art de toute sorte. THEORY (resumed). 1. ON THE PLURAL OF COMPOUND NOUNS. —The difficulties connected with this subject, great as they are by themselves, are rendered all the more serious to the English student from the fact that most grammars written for his use still persist in legislating for nouns of which some ceased being compound more than forty years ago. Among others, becfigue (m.), beccafico, a bird ; contrepoison (m.), antidote ; courtepointe (f.), counterpane ; entrecôte, meat between ribs ; passeport, pass- port ; passepoil, edging ; passerage, pepper- wort ; pourboire, gratuity, etc., are now written as single words, and offer no difficulty for the plural. On the other hand, garde suisse (pl. gardes suisses), Swiss guardsmen; cent garde * Of these three vvords neither the Académie nor M. Littré give examples in the plural ; according to the general theory of the matter, they should remain unaltered. MUSIC. * 303 (pl. cent gardes), a body guard of the late emperor Napoleon III. : Sainte mitouche (pl. Saintes mitouches), affected prude; porte cochère (pl. portes cochères), carriage gate, and a few more, are no compounds, although often given as such. This class of words is brought under five rules, of which the first alone appears in this Lesson. First Rule.—When a compound is made up of two nouns, or a noun and adjective, both terms take the sign of the plural: aigues-marines(L.”) arcs-boutants basses-cours basses-tailles (L.) blancs-becs blancs-Seings Chats-huants chauves-souris choux-fleurs dames-jeannes (L.) eaux-fortes loups-cerviers (L.) loups-garous (L.) pies-grièches plates-bandes ponts-neufs sages-femmes tailles-douces aigue-marine, beryl arc-boutant, buttress basse-cour, farmyard basse-taille, (O.S.) baritone blanc-bec, beardless youth blanc-seing, blank orders chat-huant, screech owl chauve-souris, bat chou-fleur, cauliflower dame-jeanne, large bottle eau-forte, etching loup-cervier, lyna, loup-garou, were-wolf pie-grièche, magpieł plate-bande, garden beds pont-neuf, street song sage-femme, midwife taille-douce, copper plate Remark I.—From this rule are excepted : appwi-main, maulstick, pl. appuis-main ; bain- marie, chemical bath, bains-marie (L.); chevau- léger, light horseman (old style), chevau-légers; grand'mère, grandmother, grand'mères; grand’- messe, high mass, grand'messes (one says also grande messe, grandes messes); hôtel-Dieu, hospital, hôtels-Dieu, reine-Claude, green- gage, reines-Claude ; sawf-conduit, safe-con- duct, Sanſf-conduits; terre-plein, a platform in fortification, terre-pleins : timbre-poste, post- stamp, timbres-poste. Each of these exceptions can be satisfactorily explained. For instance, des appuis-main are supports for the painter's hand; des terre-pleins are places full (pleins, adj. agreeing with plural noun understood) of earth; des hôtels-Dieu are God's imms, not inns that are gods, etc. As for grand, it may be observed that adjectives derived from Latin ones in is had only one termination for both masc. and fem. ; grand, from grandis, as above, is a relic of this custom. Remark II—The adjective demi, preceding a noun, remains always uninflected : des demi- heures, half-hours; des demi-fréres, half-brothers, etc. In the syntax on adjectives more details will be given on demi. Remark III.-Colim-maillard, blind-man’s buff; quote- part, share; saisie-arrét, claim on moneys; saisie-eacéew- tion, distress on goods; saisie-brandon, distress on crops; sainte-barbe, powder magazine, etc., appear seldom in the plural; nor is there an opinion expressed on the point by our authorities. In phrases concocted by grammarians for the sake of exercise, these shoul follow the rule. - - * For M, Littré. Where this initial is given, it in- dicates that the Académie has no example in the pl. but permits the inference that M. Littré's view is endorsed. t Strictly, lamius excubitor (Lin.) It means also a peewish, quarrelsome woman, THE STAFE NOTATION.—TUNE. THE student who has mastered the first four steps in 8inging may now commence the study of the staff notation, if he has any special occasion to do so, as, for instance, if he wishes to join in singing with friends who are using the staff notation, or if he wishes already to begin studying the large stores of music which are only to be found in that notation. But if such reasons do not press upon him, it is better —far better—for his own growth in musical knowledge and power to defer the study of a complex and indirect notation like that of the staff, till after he has gained some knowledge of harmony and musical form. The simple Sol-fa notation has now become a language of music to him, and an instrument of musical thought. To turn aside, at so early a stage, to learn a new musical language * tº and a new mode of musical Preliminary thought would be a serious inter. ** ruption to the steady flow of progress. It is true that much instruction is to be got from studying an old familiar thing in a nemy lan- guage and from a new point of view. But it must be an “old” and “familiar” thing which you thus study. The thing itself must first be firmly and clearly established in mind and ear before you begin to throw it into new lights or call it by new names. Thousands of students have thrown away the study of music itself altogether, because their thoughts were puzzled and their efforts discouraged by having the staff notation thrust upon them too soon. We therefore strongly recommend students who have no pressing occasion for the staff notation to study this and the next five chapters later OIl. But we do not slight the staff notation. When the sense and meaning of a Bible-passage have been studied in our mother-tongue, it wonderfully helps our thoughts and clears our conceptions to study it also in French or Ger- man or Greek. Each new language throws its light into some neglected corners of thought. Moreover, the advanced student will find the staff notation necessary not only for the pursuit of extended studies, but also for companion- ship with other students. It will be a pleasure to him to find that nothing he has learnt in his Tonic Sol-fa studies, will have to be un- learnt ; but that every piece of Sol-fa know- ledge he has gained is a key to unlock some- thing in the staff notation. Some there are who, having learnt to sing by means of the Tonic Sol-fa notation, have no desire to go further. But a & large number wish to go on and Making become familiar with the staff P**** notation. All real students should endeavour to widen their knowledge in this way, using 304 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. their knowledge of Tonic Sol-fa as a key to the staff. The purpose of a staff is to uphold and support, and five staves placed one above the The Staff other are used to support the notes of the scale, the Spaces between, as well as the lines themselves, being utilized for notes. Thus, from a line to the space above it is a single step of the scale (Doh to Ray, Fah to –––. Soh, etc.), from a line to the next line above it is two steps (Doh to Me, etc.). In speaking of lines and spaces we must reckon from the bottom ; the lowest is the first line, etc. The best way to learn any set of symbols is not to look at them but to write them. We Writin shall therefore give exercises in * writing the staff notation. The student can buy ruled music paper at the shops On which to work his exercises. Observe and compare the following, which is given in both notations. On the principle of introducing one thing at a time, we at present mark the place of Doh by a square. Notice that a bar across the staff divides the music into measures, as in the Tonic Sol-fa notation, but that no accent marks are given for pulses or parts of pulses within the measure. The double bar denotes the end. ==EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE|| Vº d r m f s f m d Write the above, (a) placing Doh on the middle line of the staff, and (b) placing Doh, in the Second space. When the notes follow each other in step- wise Order, it is easy to read them on the staff. But the singer must learn to read notes which skip, and he must do this without the slow process of counting the intervening notes. To do this let him remember the— First Rule for Reading.—If Doh is in a Space, Me and Solº are in the next spaces above, and if Doh is on a line, Me and Soh are on the next lines above. Thus Onlines and Doh, Me, and Soh are similarly in spaces. placed; they are either all three on lines or all three in spaces. Read aloud, without counting from note to note, the Sol-fa names of the notes in the following exercises. I |TH i =====#EE-HH - —I { | – º – | | [ - EEEF-E-FFFH ==EEEEEEEEEEEEE|| Write the above exercises in the Tonic Sol-fa notation. Write them in the staff notation, placing Doh on the third line and in the Second space respectively. Write the following in the staff notation, placing Doh on the first line — | d : s m : d |s Second Rule for Reading.—Octaves are dis- similarly placed. If Doh, Me, and Solº are in spaces, the octaves of any of them are on the fourth line above or below ; if they are on lines, their octaves are in the fourth space above or below. Let the student examine the following, and learn to measure with the eye the leap of an octave. EH * E-L-p-E---Esº- ====E= ### TETET &T- : m d : m s : m || Octaves, –T2.--—-Lº----|- 2. Tº ! - =====HEE: Tºy TT & TI fºLLCL LET &I Write the above in the staff notation, the first with Doſ on the first line, the Second with Doh in the second space. When the music goes above or below the bounds of the five-lime staff, additional lines are added, which are made just long enough to hold the note or notes required. They are called leger lines, Leger lines, The following is to be read :- -] -Gº- - —&- Third Rule for Reading.—Ray is recognized as next above Doh, Te as next below ; Jºa/, as next above Me, and Lah as next *Y, Fah, &lah above Soh. Notice that d fare dissimilarly placed, and d f similarly placed. —º- I [.. FEx-H £-F, - - – TC& Tºº-TE-62–H [[EIT ==== TET32 | L– E==== H | º ETE- | + Fourth Rule.—Alternate notes of the scale are always similarly placed. Read at sight the Sol-fa names of the following:— Alternate notes. —r—zº FE-->TEFETE-F-tº-F =========#H######### Write the following in the staff notation, Doh on the second line:– : s | f : r |t| : si d : r m : d | f : 1 s : ti | d || Fifth Rule.—An interval of seven notes (one note short of an octave) is similarly placed. Read the following:— F TTTº Tº | | Tº º-E-F-EP- F ===E===HHHHHH & —º- Write the following in the staff notation, Doh in the first space :- | d : dº | r : 1 || s : si |f : m | ti : l s : t| |d : d || ASTRONOMY. 305 DURING the third quarter of the seventeenth century, or from 1650 to 1675, many improve- ments were introduced into practical astronomy, contributing much to its progress, and enabling much more accurate observations to be made. It will be well to notice the more im- portant of these. First of all comes the invention of the astronomical clock, the most precious gift to practical astronomy, and one which has done more than any other to fa- cilitate its grand achievements. Clocks had been known for cen- turies, but they were so untrust- worthy that they were quite unfit for the deli- Astrºnºmical cate needs of astro- clocks, nomy ; astronomy requires seconds, while these instruments would not give minutes. Galileo discovered that the beats or swings of a pen- dulum were always made in sen- sibly exactly equal times, so that if a clock was constructed to re- gister the number of beats which had been made by a pendulum, it would give an accurate clock. He tried to make a clock on this principle; but without success, for he could not keep it going. When he set the pendulum going the clock started well enough, but the pendulum was gradually stopped by the work performed by it in moving the wheels. Galileo and his contemporaries gave up in despair the idea of constructing a clock of this nature. Gassendi, Bullialdus, and others, made use of the pendulum to measure short intervals of time, by actually counting its vibrations from a moment at which the correct time had been ascertained. To find out the exact time at any moment, they had to observe at that instant the altitude of the Sun or a star above the horizon, and then calcu- late at what time it was that the sun or star had that altitude. This was a long operation, and they could not be sure of the time to less than half a minute. In 1656, Huygens, the grand genius whose name has been already mentioned on several occasions as a discoverer, added one more to the long list of his contributions to astronomy. Thinking over the imperfections of the ordinary clocks which were kept going by a weight slowly falling, and pondering over the failures VOL. I. Frg. 34.—PHASEs of we NUs. of Galileo to make a good clock by the swing of a pendulum, something like the following thought occurred to him :—“Here we have an Ordinary clock which is driven and regulated by a weight, and will go for a century, but is So badly regulated that it won't keep regular time ; and there we nave Galileo's clock, which is driven and regulated by a pendulum,and keeps correct time, but is so badly driven that it won’t go for more than an hour : Suppose I put the two together, and drive the clock by the weight C. as long as I want, and regulatº it as correctly as I desire by means of a pen- tº g tº dulum.” He con-Application of the sidered the matter, pendulum, and it seemed feasible enough; so after Sundry experiments he con- structed a clock which had its wheel-work driven by a falling weight, and regulated by a pen- dulum which only allowed it to move forward by one tooth of a toothed wheel Once during each swing of the pendulum. In this way the pendulum had nothing to do but to swing, and let the wheels of the clock register the number of Swings which had been made, while the weight kept the clock going and the pendu- lum swinging. Huygens' clock was a grand Success, and quickly spread everywhere. By regula- ting it once or twice a day by means of the altitudes of several stars, it gave the correct time at any instant to within three or four seconds. During this period, 1650-75, the ordinary or Keplerian tele- scope came into universal use, and observers were Ino longer restricted to magnifying powers of 30 or 40 diameters, but were able to use powers three or four times as great. Astronomers, }.owever, still de- termined the place of the stars in the heavens by the naked eye. Their instruments were provided with two little spikes or two little plates with small holes in them, and they used these like “sights * on a modern rifle to direct the instrument to the object. They could never be sure of the place of a star by less than 5’ or 10' because to the naked eye that space looked so small. In 1665, Hooke and Sir C. Wren constructed astronomical instruments in which a telescope was employed to direct them to the star, instead of using naked eye “sights.” Picard, a famous French observer, was the first to adapt the telescope to regular astronomical instruments. The centre of the field of view of the telescope was marked by a combination of very thin wires, and when pointing the telescope at the star or other celestial object 20 Use of improved telescopes, 306. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the instrument was moved until the star was º brought into the centre of the Introduction of field of view. This was found to telescopic sight be an immense improvement, for as the telescope made the part of the heavens it was pointed at look 60 to 70 times larger, and the star look smaller than with the naked eye, it was found easy to point the telescope, and with it the instrument, with a hundred times greater accuracy. Instead, therefore, of being uncertain by 5' whether the instrument was properly directed at the star, they could feel quite certain to two or three seconds. By this grand improvement, whilst observa- tions were rendered very much more accurate, it was found that the difficulty in determining the places of the celestial bodies was entirely changed. It was no longer that they could not properly direct their instruments, but that they were not quite sure at what place they were directing them. When they had properly pointed the instrument at the planet or star— and this was no longer difficult—astronomers wanted to know how many degrees, minutes, and seconds it was from the zenith, or from the north pole, or some other point. To ascertain this, each instrument had a circle or part of a circle divided into degrees and minutes by very fine marks called divisions. A pointer fixed to the telescope moved along this arc of a circle, or graduated arc as it is termed, and showed how many degrees and minutes the telescope had moved over, as it was moved - from one point to the other. Thus, suppose the telescope to be pointed directly overhead, or to the Zenith, and that the pointer marked 51° 38', and that it was then moved to point to a bright star, and the pointer was at the division indicating 30° 11', we should know that the telescope had moved over 21° 27', or that the zenith distance of the star was 21° 27'. This method was very simple. Now suppose our instrument to have a graduated circle twelve feet in diameter, or a portion of such a circle, it would be a very large instrument, and it would not be very easy to divide the circle with accuracy. But if one degree (say the mark showing 21°) was put a little out of its proper place—a little too far on (say a tenth of an inch wrong), then, instead of being in its proper place, it would be in the place where 21° 5' ought to be, and all our obser- vations would be 5' wrong—a large quantity. It was therefore the difficulty of dividing the circles, or as it was called graduating the instruments, which now began to trouble astronomers, and they had to take great care to get their instruments properly graduated. Graduated instruments, They very soon found still another difficulty— that was in graduating their instruments to fine enough divisions. They could point their in- struments to within several seconds, and they wanted to be able to read their instruments to five or ten seconds—that is to say, to tell from the graduated arc not only how many degrees and minutes the telescope had been moved, but how many seconds as well, or at least whether it was 10'10" or 10' 15". But on an instrument with a graduated circle twelve feet in diameter. the divisions indicating the minutes were separated from each other by only one-fiftieth of an inch, so that there was no room for the markings indicating the seconds. . . wº This difficulty was got over by hº of making use of what is called * * the Vernier, named after its French in- ventor, Pierre Wernier. Fig. 35 shows the principle of the vernier, a representing the graduated arc of the instrument, and b the arc of the vernier, and this arc is divided into nine divisions, which occupy the same space as ten divisions of the graduated arc of the Wºzzeez. FIG. 35.--THIS WERNIER. instrument. Now suppose the division marked 0 on the vernier corresponds exactly with one of the divisions of the arc of the instrument (say 30° 11') then the exact position of the instru- ment will be given by that division, or will be 30° 11'. This will very seldom be the case ; it will nearly always be found that the division 0 of the vernier does not correspond with any division on the arc of the instrument, but will be between two divisions, as shown in the figure, so that though more than 30° 11", it is not 30°12'. If this be so, see which of the other divisions on the vernier agrees exactly with a division of the arc of the instrument ; in the figure it will be seen to be that marked 3. Then the true position of the instrument is fºr of a minute past 30° 11", or 30° 11’ 18". The reason why this is so is easily seen by examining the figure, each division on the vernier gaining ºn of a minute on the arc of the instrument. Every division of the arc, or 1’, can be therefore subdivided into ten parts ; or as it is commonly said, the vernier will read to 6”. In practice verniers are constructed so that 59 divisions of the vernier correspond to 60 divisions of the arc (or vice versä), and they read therefore to seconds if the arc be divided to minutes; SO by this ingenious invention astronomers were able to make their instruments read to or indicate single seconds of arc. For Some time, however, astronomers contented themselves with dividing their instruments to every 5' and reading to every 5", because they found it very difficult to properly graduate circles more finely. Before long astronomers experienced the want of an instrument for measuring small distances in the heavens, such as the diameters PHYSICAI, GEOGRAPHY, 307 of the sun and planets, and the distance of * stars from each other. This led to Invention of the the invention of the micrometer. * The original inventor of this instrument seems to have been Gascoigne, a Yorkshire gentleman, who constructed one in 1638 ; but his invention was not made known for many years after his death. Micrometers were introduced into astronomy by an inde- pendent discoverer, Auzout, a French astrono- mer who described his invention in a letter to the Royal Society in December 1666. The Ordinary micrometer, or parallel-wire micro- meter as it is called, consists of a pair of very thin wires (called wires, though generally made of silk fibre or spider's web) stretched on movable frames, strictly parallel to each other. These wires can be moved nearer together or farther apart by a very fine screw, which has a large head graduated into 100 parts. This instrument is placed so that the wires are in the focus of the eyepiece, and can be seen in the field of view of the telescope at the same time as the celestial body. By experiment it is ascertained how far ten turns of the screw will move the wires: suppose it is 83 (or 500"), then one turn will correspond to 50", and one- hundredth part of a turn to #". Suppose then it is found that it requires the head of the screw to be moved 81 divisions to separate the wires by the same amount as the diameter of Jupiter—that is to say, so that if one wire is made to touch one edge of Jupiter the other wire will touch the other edge—then the diameter of Jupiter will be 81 x 3" or 40-5". GE0 GRA ISLANDS AND CONTINENTS (continued). A VERY large number of islands, especially in the Indian and Pacific Oceans, are built up by coral animals, belonging to the order Polypipera, or Polypi–by some naturalists classed as be- longing to the Actinozoa. The coral—named from the Greek kopa A\tov ( kopm “a maiden,” and &Xs “the sea”), maiden or daughter of the sea— is a jelly-like creature adapted for a sedentary mode of life, with no locomotive organs, but provided with a circle of retractile tentaculae (slender thread-shaped organs, capable of being extended and withdrawn, and very sensitive) around the surface of the mouth, and with a central gastric cavity, or stomach, below and around which are pairs offleshy plates extending to the sides of the polyp. Within these plates is secreted the hard matter known as coral, consisting of carbonate, and when the animal dies the soft part decays, and these external skeletons (if such a term be allowable) remain, uniting to form the masses of coral, which on examination will befound to consist of millions of starlike or radiating forms, each the Secretion Coral formations, many as 5,000,000 of the smaller species. of one polyp. The coral polyp produces eggs and young, but Some species multiply also through a process of budding, forming what is known as branching coral ; the new product beginning as a small prominence on the side of an old coral, the mouth and tentacles soon appear, the progress of calcareous accumulation is carried on, and in time buds are seen in their turn on these new growths, and so the process is continued. The branching form of some species of coral, especially the red coral found chiefly in the Mediterranean, Red Sea and Persian Gulf, is well known. Other species do not produce the branching form; but the star-shaped polyps (the astraea) unite, putting forth young ani- & mals in the spaces between the Wºfººms e & & of coral. older ones, and maintaining a hemispherical form of the mass, which in some cases reaches the dimensions of twelve feet in diameter, accumulated by at least 100,000 of the larger corallets (or individual corals), and as The “brain coral” is a mass of this kind, exhibiting certain peculiarities, and so named from the rather fanciful resemblance the surface exhibits to the convolutions of the human brain. It is nearly spherical in shape, and traversed by ridges formed by the regularly arranged tenta- cles of the animals, the mouths being visible along the furrows. The corallet can only live near the surface, and cannot exist if left dry. All the masses of coral, therefore, above the level of the sea, and all at a greater depth than about twenty-five or thirty fathoms, are dead coral—that is, accu- mulations of the calcareous secretion, the animal itself being dead. The question natu- rally arises, How, then, could they have been formed 7 As the coral cannot float, and as it is known to exist at the deepest parts at which the Ocean has been sounded, some powerful cause must exist to produce such a result. The explanation is most probably afforded by the volcanic agency which we have seen to be so active and potent. There have been subsi- dences by which the coral formations have gradually been lowered into the sea. In some cases the living animals have continued their work on the top of the receding mass, and so maintained the level. The phenomenon of upheaval has chiefly produced the elevation of the coral mass above the surface of the sea, but the sea itself has contributed to the results by breaking off and washing together large blocks, and, by the tremendous force of the waves, throwing them in confused masses on each other. An exposed surface thus formed is rapidly increased in extent. Myriads of marine animals deposit their shells, which, as well as the coral, are ground up by the action of the waves, and fill up the interstices formed by the irregular masses, and the heat of the Sun in the tropical regions splits up the more solid blocks. In time a height is reached at which the new island is protected from the sea; and then, unless too far from any land, sea-birds rest, and their guano contributes to the formation of a Formation of coral islands, 308 THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR. fertile soil, in conjunction with the vegetable matter contributed by the driftwood, leaves and stems washed by the Ocean currents to the new shores. Seeds, especially of cocoa-nut and other palms, accumulate; smaller seeds are contributed by birds; and in time the coral blocks are covered with a rich soil, well wooded and grassed, and fit for the Occupation of man, and having sands of dazzling whiteness, com- posed of powdered coral and shells on the sea-shores. Coral islands frequently exhibit a remarkable formation, and are described as Atolls (from a Malay word), or lagoon islands. ' They are of the form of a circu- lar, oval or irregular barrier, en- closing a lake, which is in some instances of very large dimensions, one in the Maldive Islands being eighty miles long by nearly twenty miles in the shorter diameter. The belt of land enclosing these sheets of water is Seldom more than half a mile in breadth, and is generally fertile with cocoanut trees. Access is afforded by various openings to the central lagoons, the w a t e r S of Lagoon islands or Atolls, which 3, l'e beautifully cle a r and still, being pro t e c te 3 from disturb . ing influences, and the depth close to the precipitous sides of the enclosing reef is always great. The entrances are never On the win d w a r d side, where the reef is comm o a ly higher and wider, and the lagoons therefore make secure harbours. These atolls are in some instances solitary, but more frequently grouped in archipelagos. In the lndian Ocean they extend in groups, including the Laccadive and Maldive islands, which stretch for nearly 800 miles, in a double row, and contain about 12,000 islands, from the ex- tremity of the Indian peninsula southwards considerably across the equator. The Caroline archipelago (including eighty-four islands), north of New Guinea, comprises sixty groups of atolls, extending for about 1,000 miles, over twenty degrees of longitude and five of lati- tude. The Low archipelago, in the Pacific, is a collection of about eighty atolls, 840 miles long, and 420 miles in its shorter diameter. Between these two great archipelagos, about 4,000 miles apart, are an immense number of islands, nearly all of the atoll formation. East of the Society Islands is an assemblage of eighty atolls, mostly circular. In some places reefs of coral, like those forming atolls, encircle islands of volcanic for- SCENE IN BORNEO. mation, at a distance of two or three miles from the shore. Instances of this formation are found in the Society Islands, including the Tahiti group, in the South Pacific, where the islands, of volcanic origin, rise in irregular conical form to a great elevation—in Tahiti to 7,000 feet—with a narrow belt of fertile ground between the mountains and the sea, and are enclosed by coral reefs, which, indeed, form large atolls, with islands in the centre. There are openings in the reefs giving access to the islands. Two islands of the group, Raiatea and Tahaa, are enclosed within one reef, of an irregular oval shape. JBarrier reefs are walls of coral, extending in straight lines in front of the shores of conti- nents or large islands, not encircling the latter, as in the instances above mentioned, and gene- rally at a greater distance from the coast. There is such a reef, 400 miles long, off the coast of New Caledonia, in the South Pacific ; but the most extensive formation of the kind is the Great Barrier rerº, a narrow ridge, and extending for 1,100 miles from lat. 9° 15' S. to lat. 24° 36' S., generally parallel to the east coast of Australia, but varying in distance from the shore from twenty to S. Seventy miles. § There are, § how e V e T, §§ openings by § which vessels É enter the in- terior ocean, Coral reefs, £º: # # and reach the ########T ports on the É===T eastern side of º:=ºf :* Australia. Fringe reefs is the name given to narrow belts of coral immediately ad- joining the coast, with no intervening lagoons. The coral formations we have described lie mostly within the zone of lat. 30° N. and 30° S., but it will be shown, in the series of articles on GEOLOGY, that in this country there are extensive strata, known as the Coral Rag, consisting of beds of petrified coral inter- stratified with oolitic limestone. Indeed, the chalk formations of this country are in some degree allied to the coral formations. It is now believed that the coral polypiper- form an important function in purifying the waters of the ocean, and main- taining the uniformity of its ..º, tº gº tº * wº p s composition. Rivers are con ing the sea, tinually pouring soluble impuri- - ties into the sea, and lime salts are formed. As the fresh water alone is carried off by evaporation, there would be an injurious accur mulation did not the coral polypi and marine shell fish carry off the superfluity, and so preserve the balance in this department of nature. They perform, in fact, an office analo- A RITEIMETIO. 309. ſ gous to that of vegetation, which keeps down the excess of carbonic gas in the atmosphere ; and “the great ocean currents spread the water among the coral groves as the wind conveys the air through the forest.” Islands are generally classed as continental and oceanic (or pelagic, “belonging to the deep sea ‘’). The former are those Islands, which, from their proximity, and geological and other peculiarities. show a con- nexion with the continents near which they are situated. Oceanic, or pelagic, islands are at a distance from the mainland, with which they have no physical connexion, and are nearly in every instance of volcanic or coralline forma- tion. The Pacific Ocean contains more islands of both kinds than any other part of the world. Archipel’agos are seas containing clusters of islands, the word being frequently applied to the island groups themselves. The principal archipelagos are: Continental Islands — the Greek, Indian, and the Antilles (commonly known as the West Indies); Oceanic Islands— the Low, Caroline, Friendly, Society, and Fijian groups in the Pacific. The three largest island masses are Australia, Borneo, and Mada- gascar. The great mass of land in the eastern hemi- sphere consists of Asia and Europe (physically one continent), and Africa, connected only with Asia by the narrow Isthmus of Suez. It extends over about 105 degrees of latitude, from the North-east Cape (Sievero-Vostotchnii), in Siberia (lat. 78° 16' N.) to Cape Agulhas, the extreme point of South Africa (lat. 34° 15' S.), and over more than 207 degrees of longitude, from Cape Verde, the most westerly point of Africa (long. 17° 33' W.), to the Eastern Cape of Asia (long. 170° W.) ; between which two points the distance is about 11,000 miles, giving the longest continuous stretch of land on the surface of the globe. It is noticeable that the northern extremity of Europe and the southern extremity of Africa are nearly under the same meridian of longitude, and the same observation applies to Asia, the North-east Cape and the extremity of the Malacca peninsula both lying near the meridian 100° E. Another noticeable peculiarity is that nearly all the principal promontories of the world stretchina southerly direction—almost the Only cxceptions being Denmark in Europe, and Yucatan in Central America, both of which point northward, and the peninsulas of Brit- tany in France, and of Alaska in the north- west of America, which have a westerly direc- tion. There is a certain similarity of conformation between the southern peninsulas of Europe and Asia : Spain and Arabia, Italy and India, Greece and the Malacca peninsula, with their archipelagos, may be instanced; and there is a degree of parallelism between portions of the western coasts of Europe and Africa and the eastern coasts of North and South America, which has led to the suggestion, possibly fanci- ful, that at some remote period a great con- vulsion of nature separated the two masses of land, forming an immense valley now occu- Continental Iºla, SS6S, f pied by the Atlantic Ocean. But there is. a striking dissimilarity in the general Contour of the continental masses in the eastern and western hemispheres. In the former, the pre- vailing direction of the land is from east to west; in the latter, from north to south. In another respect, there is a similarity between the eastern and western continental masses. Africa is united to Asia by the narrow Isthmus of Suez, and South America to North America by the Isthmus of Panama. The outline of the great continents varies considerably. Europe, Southern Asia, and North America are very irregular in shape, with numerous penin- sulas, bays, and narrow inlets. Africa, South America, and Australia (which, although an island, may, from its great size, be considered as a continent) are more compact. The pro- portions between the superficial areas and lengths of coast-line are therefore considerable. The following are the dimensions, as nearly as it is possible to ascertain them:— Area in Length of square miles. coast-line. Europe . . . 3,800,000 19,590 Asia 17,000,000 33,000 Africa . 11,800,000 16,000 America, North 7,897,741 22,800 America, South 7,241,000 16,000 Australia 3,000,000 8,000 COMPOUND SUBTRACTION, COMPOUND SUBTRACTION is the process of finding the difference between two compound quantities of the same kind. For example : subtract £7 18s. 9d. It is clear that the whole difference will be made up of the differences of the several parts. The difference of the pence is 3d. ; that of the shillings is 15s.; and that of the pounds is £5. Thus the whole difference §5 15s. 3d. But it often happens that the number of some denomination in the lower line (OT quan- tity to be subtracted from the other) is larger than the corresponding number in the upper quantity, and therefore cannot be subtracted from it. How are we to get over this difficulty 7 By the same principle which we had to make use of when we met a similar difficulty in simple subtraction. That principle was, that the dif- ference between two quantities is not altered by increasing or diminishing both quantities by the same number. Now let us take an example, and apply this principle. Suppose we want to subtract £2 18s. 9d. from £73s. 6d. .G. C. & 4–1 3s. 6d. from l ; ; º is 310 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Here we can’t take 9d. from 6d. But let us add 12d. to the pence in the upper quantity, and 18. to the shillings in the lower, and then subtract. According to our principle the difference will be unaltered. # s. d 7 3 2 18 9 We have now £7 .318 in the upper line, and 2 19 9 in the lower. We can now subtract the pence, but we cannot yet subtract the shillings, as 19 is greater than 3. But now let us add 20s. to the shillings in the top line, and £1 to the pounds in the lower. Here again, according to the principle, we have done nothing to alter the difference of the two quantities. The Original £ s. d. quantities have now become . . . 7 23 18 and by the addition of £1 1s. to 3 19 9 each of them. -*- We can now subtract the num- 4 4 9 bers in each of the three deno- minations. The difference of the pence is 9d. ; that of the shillings is 48.; and of the pounds is £4. The whole process is generally done in the following way :— 9d. from 6d. I cannot. But 9d. from 186. leave 9d. ... put down 9d., and £ s. d carry 1 to the 18s. 7 3 6 18 -- 1 = 19. 19s. from 3s. I 2 18 9 cannot, but 19 from 23 leave 4s. — ... put down 4.s., and carry 1 to the 4 4 9 2 pounds. 2 + 1 = 3, £3 from £7 leave £4. ... put down £4. This process will be found to be equivalent to the following rule for Compound Subtrac- tion :- 1. Set the less number under the greater, so that the numbers of the same denomination shall be in the same column. 2. Subtract each number in the lower line (beginning at the lowest denomination) from the number immediately above it, if it be pos- sible so to do, and set the remainder under- neath. 3. If it be not possible so to do, add to the upper number as many units of the same de- nomination as will make one unit of the next higher denomination. Subtract as before, set down the remainder, and carry 1 to the number which is to be subtracted in the next column, and proceed as before. Example 1: Subtract ©23 16s. 73d. from £57 158. 94d. # from + 1 can’t, but # from { £ s. d, leave #, i.e., d. ; ... put down #d., 37 15 94 and carry 1 to the 7d. : then 8d. 23 16 7; from 9d, leaves 1d.; ... put down 1ſt. -*m-. 16s. from 15s. I can’t, but 16s. 33 19 1} from 35s. leave 19s.; ... put down 19s., and carry 1 to the £23. §24 from £57 leave £33; ... put down £33. Example 2: From £130 0s. 6d. subtract £50 0s. 7d. 7d. from 6d. I can't, but 7d. #2 s. d. from 186. leave 11d. ; ... put 130 () 6 down 11, carry 1. 50 0 7 1s. from 0s. I can’t, but 18. smmºn--mºs from 20s. leaves 19s.; ... put down 79 19 11 19, carry 1. 51 from 130 leave 79. JEacercises. 1. Perform the following subtractions:— £ s. d. £ s. d. £ S. d. £ S. d. 123 18 9 752 14 3 423 13 8 1001 1 1 72 17 6 625 17 8 200 16 9 1 0 11% £ s. d. 9 S. d. £ S. d. 3 s. d. 5078 16 4 4236 14 3 56489 5 9 786 O O 309 19 6 591 18 7 19876 7 3 785 19 11 2. In making out a bill, a tradesman put 7s. 10d. instead of £7 10s., and £14 3s. instead of 14s. 3d. Was his bill thus made larger or Smaller than the proper amount, and by how much 7 3. A boy who has only 7%d, in his pocket gets a present of a cricket bat, which he ex- 2hanges with another boy for a ball and 3s. 6d. He then buys some marbles for 1%d., some apples for 5d., and a top for 3}d. How much bas he remaining in his pocket 7 4. A German band collect 3s. 5d. in one street, 7s. 2d. in another, 1s. 3}d. in another, 14s. 7; d. and 9s. 11d. in two others, and during the rest of the day they collect 37s.; they spend 21s. altogether on food, and 7s. On lodging. What was the amount of their gains for the day ? 5. A man owed £100, to pay which his fur- niture was seized and sold. The furniture of the kitchen brought in £17 8s. 5%d., that of the sitting-room was sold for £29 18s. 64d., the rest of the furniture sold for £2319s. 11; d. ; in order to pay off the remainder, he borrowed the ne- cessary amount from a friend. How much was it necessary to borrow 7 6. A bas £15 19s. 1; d. in his pocket, B has £17 2s. 8d., and C has £420s. 9d. : C pays to A £3 17s. which he owed him, A gives B 93.0}d., and B pays to C £7 2s. 8d. How much have they each now 7 Ansm:ers: 1. Č51 1s. 3d. ; £126 16s. 7d. ; #222 16s. 11d. ; £10000s. Iłd. ; £4768 16s. 10d. ; £3644 15s. 8d. ; £366.12 18s. 6d. ; 16. 2. £6 6s. 7d. too large. 3. 3s. 3}d. 4. £2 15s. 4%d. B. 4:28 18s. 0}d. 6. A, £19.7s. 1d. ; B, 610 9s. 0}d.; C, £45 6s. COMPOUND MULTIPLICATION. Compound Multiplication is the process of finding the amount when a given compound quantity is repeated (or added to itself) any given number of times. Like all multiplication, it is a short method of performing addition, the quantities to be added being all identically equal. Suppose we have to multiply £5 38.7d. by 6. Now £5 3s. 7d. = £5–H3s.--7d., .. 6 times £5.38. 7d. = 6 times £5-H6 times 33.--6 times 7d. £ s. d. But, 6 × 7d. = 42d. == 0 3 6 and 6 × 3s. = 18s. = 0 18 0 and 6 × £5 = £30 = 30 0 0 ... the whole product = 31 1, 6 This process may be arranged in the follow- ing way:— ARITIZMETIC. 31} We say 6 times 7d. make 42d. =3s. 6d.; .”. £ s. d. put down 6d., and carry the 3s. 5 3 7 6 times 38. make 18s., and add- 6 ing the-38. carried, we have 21s., *E==ºº i.e. £1 18. ; . . put down 1s., and 3] 1 6 carry the £1. 6 times £5 make £30, and adding the £1 carried, we have £31. We shall now give the usual Rule for Com- pound Multiplication — Multiply successively each denomination of the multiplicand by the multiplier, reducing the product in each case to the next higher denomination, Setting down the remainder, if there be any, and carrying the quotient to the next product. Example 1: Multiply £2, 17s. 9; d. by 9. Here farthings are the lowest £ s. d. denomination, ... multiplying 3 2 17 93. farthings by 9, we get 27 far- 9 things, i.e. 6; d. ; ... write down #, and carry 6d. to the next pro- duct. The next product is 9d. ×9, i.e. 81d.; adding the 6d. carried, we have 87d. i.e. 7s. 8d.; ... Set down 3d., and carry 7s, to the next product. 9 × 17s. = 153s., and adding the 7s., we have 160s., i.e. £8 0s.; ... set down 0s., and carry £8 to the next pro- duct, i.e. to £18—the result is £26. If, however, the multiplier is a number greater than 12, it is better to breakit up into fac- tors, or factors and parts, and multiply by them. Thus, if the multiplier were 56, since 56 = 7 × 8 we should first multiply the given quantity by 7, and then the product by 8. And if the multiplier were a number which cannot be split up into convenient factors, for example, 58, we say 58 =56.--2=7 × 8 + 2. Therefore we mul- tiply successively by 7 and 8, as before, and to the last product add twice the given quantity. Example 2: Multiply £21 5s. 6d. by 53. Here the multiplier = 5 × 10 + 3, therefore the process will be as follows:– **ºmºmºmº 26 0 33 4. S. d. Multiplying the given quan- 2.1 5 6 tity by 5, we get £106 7s. 6d. 5 Multiplying this again by 10, ºsmºse- we get £1063 15s. 0d. 106 7 6 Now to this product, which 10 is 50 times the given quantity, We must add 3 times the given *063 15 O quantity, i.e., we must add 63 16 6 363 16s. 6d. The final result is £1127 11s. 6d., which is 53 £1.27 11 6 times the given quantity, Example 3: Multiply £1 3s. 2d. by 134. :6 s. d. I 3 2 10 11 11 8 = 10 times £1 3s. 2d. 10 115 16 8 = 100 times 34 15 0 = 30 times 9) 4 12 8 = 4 times 155 4 4 = 134 times 5 § Here the multiplier 134 = 100 + 30 + 4. = 10× 10+3×10+4. The process will be as follows:– * Multiplying £1 3s. 2d. by 10, we get £11 11s. 8d. Multiplying this again by 10, we get £115 16s. 8d. ; and multiplying £11 11s. 8d. by 3, we get £34 15s. 0d. Finally, multiplying £1 3s. 2d. by 4, we get £4 12s. 8d. Adding these last three results, we get 134 times the given quantity, Example: Multiply £230 5s. 4d. by 2351. -9 d. cº S. 230 5 4 10 2302184 – 10 times £280 5s. 4d. 10 23026 13 4 = 100 times 9) O 230266 13 4 = 1000 times 3? 2 69080 0 0 = 3 × 100 times , 11513 6 8 = 5 × 10 times , 541356 18 8 = (2000 + 300 + 50+ 1) times = 2.351 times £230 5s. 4d. Sometimes, when the multiplier is a large number, it is more convenient to reduce the given quantity to its lowest denomination; then multi- ply and then reduce the product back again to the highest denominations. Thus, in the last ex- ample, reducing £230 5s. 4d. to pence, we find it equals 55264 pence. Multiplying 55264d. by 2351, we get 1299.25664.d.; and reducing this back again to £ s. d., we find it gives us the Same result as the above—viz., £541356 18s. 8d. JEazercises. 1. Multiply £5 3s. 7%d., separately by 14, 16, 17, 18, 25, and 121. 2. Perform the following multiplications:– £90s. 11; d. × 23. £27 14s. 7d. × 584. £309 16s. 9; d. × 37. £7 16s. 83d. X 5409. £34 17s. 5}d. × 219, £130s. 11%d. × 368. £1563 17s. 93d. × 357. £68.42 15s. 8d. × 89. gºiás. 3.x 360. giš547.7;, x 465. 3. Find the amount of each of the following bills :- (a) 7 pounds of tea at 2s. 946, a pound ; 19 pounds coffee at 1s. 73 d. a pound ; 35 pounds beef at 83d. a pound. - (b) 18 pounds sugar at 23d ; 13 pounds coffee at 1s. 13 d. ; 17 pounds tea at 3s. 23d. ; 29 pounds butter at 1s. Ild. (c) 150 cigars at 5, d. each ; 230 cigars at 4.d. each ; 1500 cigarettes at #d, each ; 78 pounds tobacco at 7s. 6d. a pound. 4. A bankrupt agrees to pay his creditors 7s. 6d. in the pound. To one man he owed £525; to another £7650 ; and to a third £18950. How much did each creditor get, and how much did each lose ? 5. A, B, and C are three boys working in a factory. A receives 9d, a day, B 1s. 2d. a day, C 1s. 6d. a day, except on Saturdays, when they get only half these wages. If they work all the year, except a fortnight in summer, how much will each earm? and how much more 312 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. does C get than B and A 7 has 52 weeks.) 6. The cost of travelling by rail is about 1d. per mile third class, and about 26, per mile first class. What will it cost to travel first class for 36 hours at the Tate of 27% miles per hour ! How much would be saved by travelling third instead of first class 7 - 7. A certain passenger train requires 2 guards at 7s. 6d. a day ; two engine drivers at 6s. a day, and a stoker at 5s. a day. The wear and tear of the rolling stock may be estimated at £7 10s. 8d. per day, and other expenses con- aected with the working at £23 18s. 11d. 152 head of cattle are carried at the rate of 13s. 4d. a head. How much must all the passengers pay for tickets, so that the balance of the day's work may be £153 10s. 6d. for the Railway Co.' (N.B.-The year º ###==E: É Fººlſ ºft Rºſſº §[Tººlſ º: - --- §: kºpº =º #ºff *. §§ Q-------- }|ſº |; - ſºlº ºlº ºr º § gº w i. º º it. : † º | hº §§ºft#.º. º º: º º ſº i. #Nāšîă, – TF g ºğ6: Fº E; , ; #|| º &- º: º *== X. THE REIGN OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES W. Part II—(continued). ON the 13th of December, 1545, the cele- brated Church Council of Trent was opened. It had been assembled at the tº urgent requisition of the em- ºoºedings ºf peror, nominally for the pur. * º of pose of putting down heresy and I'éIllºs securing the supreme power of the Church : : § º º ºº:: == | i # º - -, * - | # iſit º ** ſ' º § - *U. t **t º § × - ºf-ºff. ††º ñādī; Nºi; === ºffl ºf Eſſºffiliği ##### º #º lºſſº TIII: TOWN HALL AT LEIPSIC. Ansney's : I. £72 10s. 9d. ; £82 J8s. 0d. ; £88 Is, 7%d.; £93 5s. 3d. ; £113 19s. 9d. ; £626 18s. 7#d. 2. ſ. 208 23. 6+d. ; £11464 2s. 0#d. ; £7636 18s. 9%d. ; £558.308 19s. 0#d. ; £1429 8s. 10; d. ; £16195 1s. ; £42387 8s. 0#d.; £4801 12s. 8d.; £609007 18s. 0%d. ; £362287 5s. 73d. 3. (a) #3 15s. 11; d.; (b) £6 8s. 7#d. ; (c) £388s. 13d. 4. They receive £196 17s.6d., £2868 15s, and £7106 5s. respectively, and lose £328 2s. 6d., £4781 5s., and £11843 15s., respectively. 5. A gets £10 6s. 8d., B gets £160s. 10d., and C £20 12s. 6d.-C gets £10 6s. 8d, more than A, and £4 11s. 8d. more than B. 6. £8 5s.; Saving by travelling third class, #4 2s. 6d. 7. £85 5s. 5d. * but Paul III. saw that it was Charles's design to limit the papal authority, and to set himself up as the temporal head of the Church ; to build up the imperial throne anew, on the model of the mediaeval days, when the Othos could control the Church and the State alike ; and to make the revived authority hereditary in his family by the succession of his son. Consequently the Council, though it was to deal with German affairs, was composed almost exclusively of Spaniards and Italians. The Vulgate was declared to be the only orthodox Bible, and tradition was placed on a par with Holy Writ ; the seven sacraments were main- tained, and the efficacy of works was asserted. In every point a position so antagonistic to the Protestants was taken up, that recon- ciliation became impossible. In spite of the emperor's protest, Paul gave the utmost pub- EIISTORY OF MODERW TIMES. licity to these hostile proceedings; and in 1547 he even transferred the Council to Bologna, though some prelates, in obedience to Charles, continued to sit at Trent. Once more the papacy and France formed a union against Germany. Charles determined to undertake the settle- ment of the questions at issue. At a splendid diet held at Augsburg, he caused º: . articles of accommodation be- #. ... tween the two creeds to be drawn “” “” up, under the title of “The In- terim of Augsburg,” to remain in force until the conclusion of the Council of Trent. Another interim—that of Leipsic—was prepared for Saxony, at the request of the Elector Maurice, by the gentle and conciliatory Melanchthon, who even incurred much blame from his zealous followers, by conceding many points as in- different (a diaphoron); and Saxony accepted R Wºº º º sº# #}.}}|ſº º & | Fºl º i º º ---. r #; º: ºś º § 3 - º: 's i g | # tº º º |# 2 # º º 313 unlimited power, and send Maurice himself to share the imprisonment of John Frederick of Saxony and of Philip of Hesse. The proud spirit of Maurice revolted, moreover, against the manifest distrust and ill-will of the princes, who looked upon him as a traitor to his coun- try and his faith ; and now there was an opportunity of setting himself right with the public opinion of Germany. The emperor was evidently working to make Germany a part of a huge despotic empire, in which the princes would be mere creatures of his will, deprived of all power of independent action : how could he better vindicate himself with all than by coming forward as the champion of his country against imperial encroachment, and by securing at once political and religious freedom 7 Ac- cordingly he took his measures with consum- mate skill ari duplicity. He undertook to º t º Iº ſº º §§ sºft|† ºùtú: ſ §ºll. # tº - 4. . t - ºftºlºiſſy º º § º: gº §ºft. ſº | || º,” ºf * † - º º ſ § §§ §§§ºlliſ -- - Fº - ######### º tº R ſº **ś, jº - MARKET-PLACE AT EISLE.B.E.N. the Interim as law. Alarmed at the signs of the times, Paul III. Submitted to the emperor re-transferred the Council to Trent, and ad- mitted the representatives of evangelical com- munities to its debates ; when, to the infinite surprise of Charles, Maurice of Saxony suddenly stood up against him as a dangerous enemy. The causes of this enmity were not far to seek, though they had not entered into the emperor's calculation. Maurice, a far-seeing man, understood that his elevation to the dignity of elector would avail him little if the emperor succeeded in making himself supreme over Church and State and annihi- lating the spiritual and temporal liberties of Germany. “A sceptre, snatched with an un- ruly hand, must be as boisterously maintained as gained.” Charles might any day, throw down the ladder by which he had risen to Revolt of Maurice of Saxony, 1551. | execute against Magdeburg the decree of the Chamber; and by leading a force to besiege that chief stronghold of Protestantism, he lulled the vigilant and suspicious emperor into complete security. But while professing the utmost zeal against Charles's enemies, he secretly entered into negociations with various German princes—the margraves John of Küs- trin, and John of Brandenburg-Kulmbach, and others; and, more important than all, he effected an arrangement with Henry II. of France for help against the emperor, in the Convention of Friedwalde, by the cession to France of the episcopal towns of Metz, Toul, Verdun, and Cambray. Thus, at the end of many years of arduous and incessant work, the edifice of imperial power Charles had laboured to erect was threatened by the man on whose services he counted to uphold it. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. X. DIPHTHONGS.–(§ 52 concluded). oua = a prop. diph. in bivouac (bi-vouak or Öi-vak), Edouard (é-douar), Edward, powah (pouá), fie It forms a d. Syll. in douane (dou-an'), custom-house, fouace, fouage, povacre, 7:07tage, rouan, o'owanme, etc. Also in ovate. wadding, in connection with which observe the optional aspiration of ou : acheter de la ouate or de l'ouate ; une robe doublée de Ouate, or vi'ontate. ty ouai = a prop. diph. in ouais (oſº), hallo a d. syll. in douaire and derivatives (now dou-8)', formerly dou-ay"), dower. oue = an imp. diph. at the end of a word : joue (zhou), cheek; roue (rou), wheel. Oue followed by a = d. syll. : jouer (jou-á), to play, q'ower (roºt-é), to beat ; owe followed by t- d. syll. : jouet (jou-e), toy, rouet (rott-ê), spinning- wheel, fouet (fou-8), whip. In verbal forms, as je jouerai, tu n'ouerais, etc., and in words de- rived from verbs in ouer, the e remains quite mute, and is sometimes replaced by a placed OVCT 70. dénouement, or dénoitment (dé-mont-man), un- ravelling. dévouement, or devotedness. enjouement, or enjof ment (anjott-man), play- fulness. em?'ouement, hoarseness. ouen = a, d. syll. : Rouen (?'out-an), Saint-Ouen (ow-am). - ouhai = a prop. diph. in prose : Souhait and derivs. (souë), wish ; in verse say sou-8. oui- a prop. diph. in baragouine” (gonti-nē), to speak gibberish, fouine (fouín'), pole-cat, onti, yes. It presents a d. syll. in verbs in owir, as je jouin'ai (jou-i-rai), in Louis (Lou-i): dévoſtment (dé-vou-man), aſ or enroitment (an-you-man), “Ainsi, lorsque tout prêt à briser cent murailles Louis, la foudreen main, abandonnant Versailles,” et C. (Boileau, Le Lutrim, Chant IV.) [In a like manner, when ready fo eform a hundred coal's, Louis, leaving Versailles with his thunders in his hand, etc. ) ouin = a prop. diph. ua = a, d. Syll. : {sº-av"), soft. Rem. 4. For qua cf. § 27 b. ue = an imp. diph. at the end of a word : rue (7%), street, rue (vii), view. Ue followed by =d. syll. : rue” (77-6), to kick, in speaking of an animal ; suer (su-á), to sweat. Followed by t-d. syll. : muet (mu-è), dumb, fluet (flu-8), puny. In verbal forms, as je n'emuerai, etc., and in words derived from verbs in we)', the e is mute, and is sometimes replaced by the 2. placed over the u : dénºuement or dénºment (dé-nº-man), want ; aremuement or remitment (re-mu-man), stir; See § 50. muage (mu-azh'), cloud ; suave For ua preceded by g cf. § 26, éternuement, or étermitment (é-ter-nu-man), SIleeze. ué = an imp. diph. : ci-guë (si-gū), hemlock. ué, uè, ueu = d. sylls. : tué (tw-é), killed; ils tuérent (tu-èr), they killed; lueur (lu-eur), glimmer. ui = a prop. diph. in which both the sounds in F. at and i are heard. Say in verse as in prose : huissie” (hui-siè), usher, puits (piti), pit, reduire (ré-dwin'), to reduce, etc. In many words it is, though blended in prose, a d, syll. in poetry : read in prose in verse casuiste ca-suist' ca-Su-i-ste. druidal drui-dal dru-i-dal. jésuite jé-suitſ jé-Su-i-te. uie = a prop. diph., and is pronounced u? : suie, soot; tı'uie, Sow; j'essvie, I dry, j'esswierai, I shall dry. uin = a prop. diph. in which F. w and nasal in are discernible : Swinter (Swim-ter), to percolate, chuinter (shwin-ter), to screech as an Owl. y placed between two vowels forms with the first a proper or improper diph., and a proper diph, with the last : aya=ai-Hia or a-ia ; eye = ci-i-iö or ei-i ; oyo = oi-i-io; uya = wi-ia ; etc. ... See §§ 28, 50. § 53. I. Among the proper diphthongs may be reckoned a Sound peculiar to the romance” languages, and which, in French, f is produced by the so-called liquid l (mouillée), or liquid ll (il mouillées), following i or any combination of vowels of which i is the last. This very word mouillé is an example in point. At first sight the student would feel inclined to read it mott- i-lé (moo-ee-lay); but ll being here liquid, the 'i sound is carried after ll, and the pronuncia- tion becomes mont-lić. This pronunciation is that of the educated classes, and is emphati- cally recommended by the best authorities. In the lower and even middle Parisian classes prevails a pronunciation which is often taught in grammars published in this country. It consists in changing all liquid l’s into y's and i’s, and saying mont-yé, or mont-ié, etc. This system greatly simplifies the labours of teacher and taught ; unfortunately, the practice must be looked upon as vulgar. Shan’t, mºon't, etc., offer an analogous case in English. 2. In a word standing last in the sentence, or before a consonant, the final liquid l is heard neither in prose nor poetry; and lle, inaudible in prose, is but slightly felt in poetry. The 7 sound is dwelt upon, and there is almost a whisper of an e at the end of it: le péril, the peril, pé-7%...é; la famille, the family, fa-m?...è. Should il and ille be preceded by another vowel, it is upon that other vowel that the voice would dwell, and a slender i sound would close up the word: le bail, the lease, bá...? ; la paille, the straw, pá...i. 3. If, instead of being followed by a conso- nant, the final liquid 7 or lle were followed by a vowel, the l would be heard: le bail a fini & * Languages derived from the Latin. f In Italian it is rendered by gli, in Spanish by ll initial, in Portuguese by th: I'REWOH PROWUWCIATION. 315 Pâques, the lease was out at Easter, le bā...lia fini, etc.; la paille a brûlé vite, the straw has burned quickly, la pá...lia, etc. Observe, how- ever, that in a phrase like this: Soyez simple avec art, sublime Sans ORGUEIL, agréable sans fard (Boileau)—be artfully simple, modestly sublime, ingenuously pleasant—both punctua- tion and sense would prevent the articulation of ! and connection with agréable. Therefore not or-gue-lia, but or-gue...i, agréable, etc. 4. Liquid ill alone is met with in the body of a word, and then, whether it be followed by e mute or any other vowel, the articulation ! must be retained: baillement, yawning, say bá...lie-man, never bà-ye-man; paillasson, straw mat, say pá-liasson, never pā-yasson. 5. In poetry liquid l is subjected to no modi- fication from the rule indicated above; but with the final liquid lle the following points must be observed:— (a) At the end of a poetical line the articulation l of lle is just discernible, not IQ Ol’e : “ Approchez, et Venez, de toutes vos oreilles, (o-rè-lić) Prendre part au plais r l’entendre des merveilles.” (mer-vè-lić) (Molière, Les Femmes Savantes.) [Approach, and, with all your power of attention, come and take a share in the delight of hearing wonders.] (b) In the middle of a poetical line lle would require to be a little more distinctly marked than at the end, but still without exaggeration : “Ayez pour la cadence une oreille Sévère.” (o-rè-lie) (Boileau, L’Art poétique.) [Have a strict ear for rhythm.] Compare with it the following lle, which is liquid, and has the articulation of the l fairly marked: - “Le vers le mieux rempli, la plus noble pensée, Ne peut plaire à l'esprit quand l’oreille est blessée.” (Boileau, L’Art poétique.) [The richest line, the noblest thought, cannot please the mind if the ear be shocked (l’o-rè-liè-blé-sée).] 6. In singing, lle is submitted to the same rules as in poetry, with the exception that it is more fully articulated, and dwelt upon to the full value of the note set to it: e -e e := e , f f : , -e- a o * t– 1– | ! . - ſ | Aºra H694–5–6–s $4–E–2 || || Lºſ | ae-H - |--|-- – Tia tº sº E- H ES-4–5.5 C ! T [ p- H L r kº’ Led [..." [. y Cº.) —l | TL pººr *TITL Pas de beau - té pa - reil - le A l'ob - jet de mes oré - lie - 2 - -º-- e. - _--> ==e-e—e-tº-º-º-ºf-fire—e—e—a-ºº: Féº-EHEEPF==== E ETHIELz Li, Liji=f^+ELATE ES-5-5 —l T E *E=E. - feux, Et l'au - ro - Te ver - meil - le Bril - le moins que ses yeux, etc. amè - lie bri - lie 7. Here is an all but complete list of words ending with the single liquid l: a. Termination il = i...e., as femil, hay-loft (some pronounce foni); mil, millet (La Fon- taine articulates the l of this word in the fol- lowing: Je la crois fine, dit-il, Mais le moindre grain de mil Ferait bien mieua mon affaire. Fables I. 20: mil here is made to Thyme with âl); peril, peril. Other words in iſ either arti- culate l, or make it quite mute; see $ 66. b. Termination ail= @...i: bail, lease; ber- cail (bèr-ká...i), sheepfold, etc. c. Termination eil = 6...i: conseil, advice; orteil, toe ; sommeil, sleep, etc. d. Termination ueil = e^{...i (ew Open—see $37, c): accouil (ak-eu...i), welcome; cercueil (sêr-kew...?), coffin, etc. e. Termination euil = eu...? (as 7(eil above): bouvreuil, bullfinch; chevreuil, Toebuck, etc. f. Termination aeil =ew...? (as evil and weil above): a-il, eye. g. Termination ouil=ou...?: femouil, fennel. GENERAL REMARK on these seven termina- tions.—Whenever these combinations are found in the body of a word, they maintain the liquid sound if they are followed by another l; millet, millet (mi...liè); gentille, nice (zhan- ti...8) piailler, (pā...i). g e sommeiller, to slumber (mě...lié); corbeille, basket (bě...i). e recueillement, contemplation (keu...liè); cueille, gather (keu...i). to squeak (piá...lié); paille, stran, i feuillage, foliage (feu...liazh'); feuille, leaf (feu...i), Ceillet, carnation (eu...liè); Ceilleton, sprout (eu...lié-ton). brouillard, fog (brou...liar); grenouille, frog (gre-nou...i). SPECIAL REMARKs.—1. Linceul, a shroud, is pro- nounced lim-sew...i, some, however, saying lin-seul. 2. Words in il in which l is quite mute possess the liquid Sound in their derivatives, which all double the l: babil (babi), but babiller (bi-lić); out il (ow-ti), but owtillage (ti-liage); persil (per-si), but persillade (pêr-si- liad'), etc. 3. The derivatives of words in il which articulate l do not double the l, and there is therefore no liquid sound in those words: exil (?-gzil'), eaciler (è-gzi-lé); fil (Jul"), filature, (fi-la-ture), etc. gentil–gen-ti, gentilhomme=gen-fi-liom!, gentilshommes= gen-ti-zom'. 5. il, ail in the body of a word are not iquid when the l is not doubled : aile, wing (ele); gilet, west (zhi-lè); pilon, pestle (pilon). , 6. The Duke of Broglie's name is pr. Breuil, liquid ; it is doubtless the Italian form of the French family name Dubreuil; brewil is the name given to a copse, at Strasbourg a large square planted with rows of trees bears the name le Breuil (in Italian broglio means something that rises); but imbroglio is pr. in French imbroille (im-bro..."). 7. In the body of proper names lli is liquid : Milhawt- mi-liaw, Pardalhac-par-da-liak, Paladilhe-pa-la-di...e. 8. To the rule that the combination ill pre- sents a liquid Sound, the following Words make exception : a. Words beginning with ill sound both l’s : illégal, illicite, illogique, illusion, etc.; say il-lé, il-li, il-lo, il-lu, etc. b. The following verbs in iller and deriva- tives, some articulating one and others two l’s : distiller =ti-lé, distillateur = ti-la ; instiller =ti-lé, instillation=til-la ; 316 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. | oscillation = sil-la; titiller =til-lé, titiilation = til-la ; vaciller = sil-lé, vacillant = sil-lan. c. Words ending in illaire have both l’s articu- lated: axillaire = a-ksil-lèr, capillaire = pil-lèr; codicillaire = co-di-sil-lèr mamillaire = mil-lèr. d. Achille (shil'), achillée (shil-lé), cavilla- tion (vil-la), codicile (sil), Delille (lil), fibrille (bril), gille (zhil), imbécillité (si-li), Lille (lil), mille (mil), and derivs. of mille, papille (Académie : pil, M. Littré: liquid), pénicillé (sil-lé), pupille (pil),pusillanime (zil-la), Scille (sil), sille (sil), sigillé (Zhil-lé), tranquille (kil), ville (vil) and derivs. such as village (vi-lazh'), Villars (vi-lar), etc. osciller = sil-lé, sº º 3.3 sº º º $º a. *s § º sº tº: sº ---> ºr CLASS IV.-The next class of letter is that in which the tail or downward-stroke element enters. These are f, g, j, p, q, y, z, and the well-nigh obsolete long s, of which g and q, as little lower ; but this is not advisable. The first element of the y is the double turn, to which is added the looped downstroke used in the g and j. The up hair-line of the bottom turn should meet this stroke at the line b, and both the turns should be carefully kept of equal size. The z is a character of peculiar formation, 2% and is made in two ways, the more usual being the tailed form given. line midway between b and e, which is carried up to the latter line, thence curving downward with increased pressure of the pen, almost im- mediately again lightened, it sweeps downward to the same level at which it commenced, rises again to the top line, and making a loop there descends in a fine hair-stroke to the line a, whence, making first another loop to the left and a bold curve to the right, it ends in a looped tail of similar character to that of the g. The other form of z is formed in a similar manner, only, instead of the tail, the small bottom loop is finished by a heavier stroke back to This is begun by a hair: the right, where it terminates in the hair-line connection. CLASS V.—The letters s, v, n, a (fig. 12) and z, may be considered irregular, as they do not readily yield themselves to classification, al- though we have included z in the last treated- of division on account of its downward element. The letter S commences at the bottom ruled FIG. 12—IRREG ULAR LETTERS. also partaking of the oelement, have been already noticed. The f (see fig. 11) is a rather com- plex character, and admits of at least two ways of writing. We give the more usual form first. Here the letter is begun by a fine hair-stroke $ 8 m, , ;1 xy about midway between the lines º, * b and c on the left side, which is elº,6rS, then carried across to the right and ascends in a well-formed loop to the line e; turning here, the downstroke commences lightly, the pressure on the pen being gradually increased until, a little below the line d, the stroke gains the usual breadth of a heavy down- stroke. It is carried down nearly to the line f. when the pressure is relaxed gradually and the stroke tapers to a hair-line which curves round to the right into a loop similar to that at the top. At about the line a the hair-line passes the downstroke to the left, and making a delicate little loop at the line b again, crosses the down- stroke to the right for connection. In the second form the downstroke ends square and the bottom loop is dispensed with, the hair-line springing from the right hand of the downstroke at the line a and crossing to the left. The j requires no comment, being simply the looped downstroke of the y, with a super- posed dot placed on the line d. The down- stroke of the p commences at the line d. and ends at g, a double turn being added on the right. Some penmen commence the downstroke a linea, with a hair-line which is carried diagonally up to the right in a curved line a trifle above the line c. The downstroke on the right con- sists of a double-tapered oval curve, which touches the line a, then forms a little curve to the left, and ends with a dot on the centre of the up hair-stroke and about midway between lines a and b. The s is a letter that needs considerable practice to make neatly and cor- rectly. Its junction with bottom turn letters preceding it is effected by carrying the hair- stroke of the turn imperceptibly into the oblique stroke of the s. Those letters, such as , and v, which end in a different manner are joined to the s by a hair-stroke which merges into the the diagonal line of the latter letter in the manner shown at the second example, the lower portion of the oblique stroke of the s being then dispensed with. The v consists of a double turn, the upward hair-line of which is continued upwards, but with a slight curvature to the left until it reaches the line c, when the pen is again brought down with an increase of pressure to about midway between c and b, thence ending in a small curve to the right. The v is also, and perhaps more frequently, formed with a small loop on the left, before the connecting stroke, as shown in the above example, which presents the advantage of more ready junction with e, s, and w. The n, like Irregularly- formed letters. PENMANSHIP. 317 the u, consists of two “pot-hooks,” the latter of which terminates in the upward hair-line, with its thickened finial and curved connective, or in the small loop on the left first. There is also another form of the m), which is far less common, although not obsolete. This is the old-fashioned shape, and consists of a “hanger” followed by a v. The letter a, though placed here on account of its not fitting in either of the other classes in its entirety, may be considered as formed of duplicated cs, the first inverted and the second in a normal position. The first element of the letteris commenced with a hair- stroke from the line b, which makes the upward turn, descends, still retaining its fineness, until midway between the lines a, b, it curves to the left and over, finishing with a small dot. The second half of the letter is simply a c so placed that its centre is in juxtaposition to the light line described. The letter z has been already described, and each member of the alphabet, therefore, is included in our copies. remarks upon the frequent hereditary character of handwriting occur. “On what a curious combination,” he says, “ of corporeal structure, mental character, and training, must hand- writing depend | Yet every one must have noted the occasional close similarity of the handwriting in father and son, although the father had not taught the son. A great collector of franks assured me that in his collection there were several franks of father and son hardly distinguishable except º f by their dates. Hofacker, in iºn: Germany, remarks on the in- heritance of handwriting ; and it has even been asserted that English boys, when taught to write in France, naturally cling to their Eng- lish manner of writing.” Mr. George Seton observes, on this subject, that this family peculiarity is most noticeable in the case of signatures, particularly where the same Chris- tian name has accompanied the patronymic. He remarks that the signature of Lord Palmer- The various ston bo; e a dotted lines * * - . Fe- on or in which Semblance to our examples - sº - L4 $º %2 that of his are placed are - . . . father. It divided by Zan (~4. º, ‘ ‘p r may be a intervals of * & 2% 2% Cz 2. question not quarters and & /2 . S * - devoid of in- eighths of Ž 2 ” zerº _> = | terest whether inches. Those * this similarity including Fºº ºm-. of handwrit- “body” letters . . . . . - -> ing is more 3.I’e distin- - £4ſ pronounced in guished as a, , cºº %rs } tºw (UAE regard to the b, and c, top & º ... -- *--> members of strokes reach £2 %2& N ºf ...º those families to the line e, which are and if looped touch the line 2466, ceſſ- Sºuez marked by a very pro- tº Gº). *S*—|º. Tailed letters, - * 24 M2 Č J& u), Other things if straight, (~/ \/ 2&0 being equal, reach g below we might ex- the “body” FIG. 13.−FAMoUs AUTOGRAPHS. pect such to lines, and, if - be the case ; looped, descend an eighth of an inch lower, namely to h. The lateral proportions have been already given. Having devoted so much space to details which are necessarily of a rather dry character, and having also, we think, supplied our students with ample work for their fingers and pens . ......, for the present, we will devote ...: a little space to some gossip on * one of the many interesting points connected with the art of writing. A curious fact, patent to every person who may have opportunities of seeing epistolary communications, manuscripts and autographs to any considerable degree, is that the hand- Writing of most individuals is as to its charac- teristics of style mainly determined by two factors—first, the individuality of the writer; and, Secondly, the influence of hereditary and transmitted traits. In Mr. Darwin's work on “Animals and Plants under Domestieation,” some interesting and from our own experience, are inclined to endorse the opinions that in those families where traits of feature, tones of voice, or mental characteristics seem most distinctly transmitted, the bandwriting of different gene- rations will bear a strong likeness. The individuality of the penmanship of dif- ferent people is itself a very curious subject. Given a number of boys taught by the same master and upon the same system, and one might surely expect to be able to predicate at least some common resemblance between their various handwritings in after-life. Yet experi- ence shows it is not so, and, moreover, the divergence from the original school type is found to be most great in men whose indivi- duality is most strongly expressed in the battle of life. But, after all, when one thinks of it, if there is anything in which a man's indivi- duality is likely to be expressed, it is the way in which he wields his pen. - 3.18 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. [. §25. Pºº. ;: - §§§ ##### wº ===º §£ [º º 3& §: SººHºº AS& º ºšš. §§ XI. STUDY FOR READING AND PRONUNCIATION. Øie bret Sjöäuber. dee dry roiſ-berr. THE THREE ROBBERS. Ørei Şäuber ermorbeten" umb pſûmberten dry roiſ-berrerº-mo'7"de-ten unt pluen’-der-ten Three robbers murdered and plundered etmen Şaufmann.” (ºte brafften bač geraubte d'-nen konjº-mann zee brach'-ten dass ge-romp'-te a merchant. They brought the robbed Gjeſt in iſ re $559.ſe,” umb ber füngſte pon gelt in ee-re hochſ-le, unt dareyueng-ste fon money into their cave, and the youngest of iſ men muffte" bann in bie &tabt geºen unb ee'-nen muss'-te dahºnn in dee statt gay’-en ºnt them must then into the town go and Sebenămitteſ' einfaufen. 2ſſá er fort lay'-bens-mit-tel ine'-konºfen alls ayrr fort provisions buy in. When he away par, ſpradjen bie 3rbet $1t einanber: vah) sprah'-chen dee tsvy tsoo i-man'-der: was, spoke the two to one another : ,ščaš foſſen noir bieſem Steifftºum mit bent was zol'-len veer dee'-zen reichſ-toom mit dame “Why shall we this wealth with the SBurſtſ em" theiſen 2 &amm er 31ſrüdffommt, boom's/-en ty'-len venºn airrtzoo-rueck'-kommt, lad divide 7 When he back comes, mooſſen bir iºn erſted)en,” bann geşārt ſein wol'-len veer een ey-steeſ/-em damn ge-hoert' zine will we him stab, then belongs his 2Intſ)etſ aud) und.” t ann'-tile on:ch uns portion also to us.” Øer junge Stäuber aber badīte untere dare yºung'-e roi!-berr al/-ber dach'-te un-ter- The young robber however thought on the megá: mºie glüffſid mºre id), nyenn aſſe vayff'ss vee gluek'-lich way'-re ich venn al’-le way: “How happy were I, if all bieſe &ſjäße mein mären ; itſ miſſ meine dee'-ze shetº-se mine way'-'em, ich vill my’-ne these treasures mine were ; I will my 3met Şameraben pergiftem,” ſo bſeibt” ber tsvi ka-me-rah'-den fer-gift'-en zo blypt dare two comrades poison, so remains the Şteifftſ)ums mir aſſein." (št faufte in ber Tych/-toom meer al-line' air, konſ'-te in dare wealth for me alone.” He bought in the ©tabt £ebenămitteſ umb Ščein ein, fºat in statt lay'-bens-mit-tel unt vine ine, taht in town provisions and wine in, put into ben &eim (jift umb feffrte bann 31ſrüd.” dame vine gift unt kay?'-te damn tsoo-ruek' the wine poison and turned then back. 2Iſá er in bie $65ſe traf," ſprangen alsº airr in dee hoeh'-le trat sprang’-en When he into the cave stepped, sprang bie anbern auf tºm 3tt umb ſtießen iſºm dee an’-dern on feen tsoo unt steess'-en eem the others on him (towards) and thrust him iſjre 309ſſie in bag ºers, baff er tobt eer'-e dol'-che in das Jayrts dass airr tote their daggers into the heart, that he dead §lt 98ppen” fieſ. $ierauf fetºtem ſte tsoo bo/-den feel heer-on-ff" Zetst'-en zee to the ground fell. Hereon set they fid) jin, affen — tranfen ben zich, him ahss'-en trank'-en dame themselves down, ate, drank the pergifteten $ein, umb ſtarben unter ben fer-gift'-e-ten vine unt starrb'-em unt’-er dame poisoned wine, and died amid the fºreſtſid}ſtem” &ſjmergen. Stingó por ben Shrek'-lich-sten shºnair”-tsen rimºngs fore dame most terrible pains. Around before the qufgeſ)iuften &djäßem fanb man” aſſe brei on'ſ-ge-hoiſt'-en shet'-sen fand man al/-le dry heaped up treasures found one all three tobt, tote. dead. Gott ſäfit bie Śāſem flier auf (ºrben Gott lesst dee boe'sen heer” on f ayºr'-den. God lets the bad here on earth SOff tºre eignem perfer” merben. offt ear’-re eig'-men hen'-kerr vain?'-den Often their own executioners become. REMARIKS ON THE FOREGOING, STUDY. * There are two verbs, to murder: Qorben, 'morº'-deº to murder Šć morbete, gemorbet, is general, thus—tauben unb morrº-de-te ge-morr'-det 3'ow/benz I murdered murdered morben, to rob and murder; etmorben, ermorbete, ermorbet, has a special meaning: einen Jºannermorben, to murder a, IOlall. * Der Răufmann, the merchant, from faufen, to buy, dare kotºff-mann and mann, man—the buying man. 3. * * * * - º Øie ºffſe, from the adjective joſſ, hollow, a hollow dee hoeh'-le hole place. * Diušte is the imperfect of the verb miſſen, to be Tnusst-te amwes/-Sept. obliged; muſte, was obliged. * Qeſen&mitteſ, from bağ Scócit, life, and bač 9)?itteſ, lay'-bens-mit-tel dass lay'-ben dass mitº-tel the means, means of life. * @ct 28 urſtſ), the lad, is used in many senses in dare boorsh º German, and is the name applied to themselves by the German students, who call themselves 28utſtjen, lads, and the outer world Bºiliſter, or Philistines. In our JPhi-lisst/-er story the word ºutſi) is used as a term of contempt. ” The prefix et often has the meaning thoroughly, or “to the death.” &ted)em, to stab; erſted)cm, to stab to Stech/-em t - death; ſóiefſen, to shoot: erſthicſſºn, to shoot to death; p sheess'-en e trinfelſ, to drink; ettrinfen, to drown (drink to the death). " Sergiften, imp. ocrgiftete, p. part. Vergiftet, from bač ferr.gift-en ferr.gift-e-te ferr-giff't/-et ift, the poison. The en as a termination here implies an action, as in English to lighten, 9 38 letben, imp. bſtet, p, part, geBließen, to remain; 8L). bly-ben bleep ge-bleeſ-ben - irregular verb. GERMA. N. * 81ſtid, literally to back; from 511, to, and ber ve tsoo'-ruek dare *Rüden, the back. ºrwek'-em. * 3rcten, trat, gettcten. From this word comes the tray’-ten traht ge-tray'-ten to tread trod "trodden expression trade-winds, given to those winds that always pursue the same path or direction. Old English authors wrote: The wind blew “tread” (the German bet Stitt, the step). - * @ct 280ten, besides the ground means the foun- dare boh’-den dation, the bottom on which a thing is built up. 380pen-ſpá, fathomless or bottomless. There is a boh/den-lohss y) German proverb: “@quibnerf at Joſtenen 39ten hand-vairrk hat gol'-de-men boh'-den (Handicraft has a golden foundation). *9)et ©cºred (noum), or ber ©d}rcifen, fright or terror dare shorek t ſdredſid (adjective), frightful or terrible; ſcºred ſidiſt, shºrek:/-läch - - shrek'-lichst the superlative, literally frightfullest or terriblest (most terrible). *9)tān (with one m) is an indefinite pronoun, answer- ing *ºne French “on” and to the English one, or they. “on dit,” one says, or they say (it is said); in German ºlam lºgt. * @er $5cmfer originally meant the hangman, from dare hen'-ker?" Wingen, to hang. It is now applied tº designate an éxecutioner generally, as formerly in England; “As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.”— Shakespeare. ExERCISE ON THE FOREGOING STUDY. (The sentences to be written down in German, and then compared with the German Version given below, which may be learnt by heart, for £he sake of the vocabulary, sequence of Verbs, etc. Three robbers murdered a merchant. They plundered his money. Then they sent, the youngest to buy provisions. They said: “ When he comes back we will stab him (to death). Why shall we divide with him?” The young robber thought: “If all these treasures were mine ! I will poison my two comrades, then I shall have all.” He bought provisions in the town, and he put poison into the wine. When he came back the others stabbed him (to death); Then they ate; and they drank of the wine, and died. Thus let (tieff) God the three bad (ones) become their own executioneTS. GERMAN VERSION. ©ret Sjöäuber ermitorbeten eiteit Sºuf, dry roi!-berr err-morr’-de-ten "-nen konºff’- mann. G5te pſûmberten ſein Gjeſt. Øatitt 7?? (1/????, zee pluen’-der-ten zine gelt damn ſjitſtem ſte ben Singſtem, Sebenămittel shik'-ten Żee dane jueng'-sten lay'-bens-mit-tel 3u faufen. ©ie ſagten: Samm et 31ſtiiſt tsoo kony-fen zee saagh'-ten vann air, tsoo-rick fommt, mooſen bir iſ m erſteden. §§aé kommt vollen vee,” een err-stech'-en cass ſeſſen bit mit iſ m theiſen 2 get junge zo'-len veer, mit eem ty'-len dare yung'-6 Štáuber bad te: Şemn aſſe bieſe ºffiše zoi'-bery dach'-te venn al’-le dee'-ze shot'-se 3I9 mein maren | 3d) miſſ meine 3ivei ſtamea mine vairrº-en ich will my’-ne tsvy ka-me- raben pergiftem, bann merbe id) aſſeå a'ah'-den ferr-gift’-en dann vair'-de ich al"-less jaben. ©r faufte £ebenámitteſ , in ber ha'-ben airr konºff’-te lay'-bens-mit-tel in dare ©tabt unb et tſjat (35ift in ben &eim. Qſſé statt unt airr taht gift in dame vine alsº er $1trüd fam, erſtadyen iºn bie 2nberm. air” tsoo'-7'tick ka'm exº-stach'-en een deean -dern g)ann affen ſte, umb ſte tranfen pom bem dann ahs'-sen zee unt zee trank'-en fon dame §§ein, unb ſtarben. ©0 ſień (jott bie bret vine unt star,'-ben zo leess gott dee dry $36ſen tºre eigemen Şenter merben. boe'sen eer'-e ū-ge-nen henk'-er vair,”-den. *** The foregoing story is a very old one. It is told at length, and with inimitable pic- turesqueness of description, by Chaucer, in the Canterbury Tales, where it forms “The Par- doner's Tale.” Speaking of the design of the young robber, the father of English poetry tells us how “At the last the fiend, our enemy, Put in his thought that he should poison buy, With which he mighté slay his fellows tway.” - sº - §§§ &Yiğ § 23;[ºº §§23# §§ s wºss sº IX. IT will be seen, by the table given in our last article (p. 289), that the stratified rocks are divided into four principal groups: primary, secondary, tertiary, and post-ter’- Paleozoic, tiary or quaternary, according to mesozoic, and their order of succession—the pri-cainozoic strata, mary being the oldest, and the post-tertiary the newest. The terms palatozoic, mesozoic, and neozoic (or cainozoic) express the facts that the first group contains the remains of “ancient” life; the second those of a middle period; and the third of new or recent life.” Under these main divisions there are further groups, to which names have been given, sometimes. derived from localities where they were first recognised, or where they are to be found well developed, and sometimes from the mineral character of the principal members—or for other reasons. These smaller groups are again subdivided, and have been named upon a similar principle—that is, according to the fancy of the individual who first described or classified them. It was all but inevitable that it should be so. A perfectly satisfactory nomen- clature has yet to be devised, and is likely to. remain a desideratum for many years yet to come. In the meantime, it is necessary for the student to remember that, in one very important sense, all divisions are entirely arbi- trary. English geologists, for instance, have * From traX&čov, “ancient”; plearos, “middle"; kauvos and vsos, “recent”; and Øov, “a living creature.” 320 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. agreed to draw a line between the life of the eriod when the upper chalk was formed, and that which is represented by the fossils con- tained in the beds which overlie it in the London Basin. The former are included in the secondary or mesozoic series ; the latter are designated tertiary or neozoic strata. The reason for this is, that there is an apparent break at this point in the continuity of life; but this break is only local, not universal, Intermediate formations are known to exist in other parts even of Europe; and no geolo- gist now believes that there was a general destruction of life on the globe at the close of the cretaceous period and a new creation at the beginning of the tertiary. So with the other formations. Each of them indi- cates local change of condition, and with each we obtain fossils representing a portion sº W º §§§ §N §§ &^ wº * *N - if w N \ § º N S S. º * § º |º: S sº * * Ilſh), . . \\ * i * s \; Its W I . f | º - evitº ºth'ſ Wºm słł slº tº : § sº * \ \\\\º \"", SW º º § Q sº Wºw W. * § { t W W “W wº \ t §ſºlº \ & \\ xx | 3. *** \ 3. \ &\\\". & tº . * \ § º º - w º Sº º ſº º t . \ * § º § deposits of a different kind must have been forming on the shores and in shallower water. Somewhere there was dry land, with lakes or inland seas and rivers of larger or smaller dimensions. This is not mere guesswork: we know it was so, not only in the particular instance which we are using as an illustration, but in many others also ; and hence we derive the general rule—that formations, by ovhatever name they may be distinguished, are not neces- sarily similar in mineral character. A much more satisfactory criterion of the contemporaneous character, or Mineral chaº otherwise, of strata, is obtained . ::i. from the fossils they contain ; * as: is: but even in this respect the utmost caution is necessary, especially in deal- ing with localities separated by great distances. Thus, for example, we find in America groups - {\ º: \ \\ § º \\ * { x \\ y r W w \\\\". ; : º A4t ºr, \\\\". \ N y \ º º º § M gº Åsº 13% Aftºv Š. \º \\ º * * * | º ſ AN ALPINE GLACIER, of the life of the period, sometimes that of the deep sea, at others of shallow waters. Sometimes the remains of land animals have been preserved, and at other times the shells of fresh-water molluscs or of the vegetation of the adjoining land. The actual variation of life throughout the immense lapse of time of which we thus have the partial records is another question—one exceedingly difficult to answer, mainly because of these local breaks in the geological records, which enable us, on the other hand, to classify the formations with which we have to deal. At every period of the world's history, strata of varied character were being formed contemporaneously. While the shells of the foraminifera, for instance, with other Organic remains, were slowly accumulating on the ocean bottom to, form our white chalk, of strata. So like those of Europe, that there is but little difficulty in classifying them in the same manner and applying to them the terms adopted by geologists for the formations of Great Britain. It would, however, be im- possible to assert that they were, in the strict sense of the term, “contemporaneous,” since it is quite possible that particular groups of deposits on the American area may have com- menced earlier and continued later, or may be altogether of somewhat later or earlier date. In speaking of contemporaneous formations, therefore, some latitude must be allowed in the use of the term. Within a more restricted area, like that of the British Isles, the difficulty is not so great. It is in the effort to correlate the strata of different countries and widely separated regions that the caution is most. necessary, and it is often better to speak, as * -* -** * r— ^- waRD & Lock's UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR GOWTAINS ALL WEGESSARY DIRECTIONS FOR ACQUIRIMG PROFICIEWor IN THE FOLLOWING AMONG OTHER SUBJEGT8: Algebra. ANATOMY : Animal. Comparative. Human. Arithmetic. Astronomy. Biography. Book-keeping. Botany. Chemistry. CoMMERCE : History. Practice. Drawing. Electricity. Elocution. English Grammar. English Literature. Ethnology. ExPERIMENTAL PHILO- SOPHY : Magnetism. Electricity. Galvanism. Heat. Light. Chemistry. Sound. Meteorology, &c. &c. FINE ARTs: Drawing. Perspective. Sketching from Na- ture. Music. Singing, French Language. French Literature. Galvanism. GEOGRAPHY : Physical. k Political. Geology. Geometry. German Language. German Literature. Greek Language. Greek Literature. Health. Heat. HISTORY : Ancient. Sacred. Mediaeval. Modern. Great Britain and Ireland. Hydrostatics. Italian Language. Italian Literature. Land-surveying. LANGUAGES : Ancient— Latin. Greek. Modern— French. German. Italian. Spanish. Latin Language Latin Literature. Light. LITERATURE : Ancient— Roman. Greek, Modern— English. French. German. Italian. Spanish. | | Logarithms. Machines & Machinery. Magnetism. MATHEMATICs : Arithmetic. Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry, &c. MECHANICAL PHILo- SOPHY : Mechanics. Hydrostatics. Hydraulics. Pneumatics. Mensuration. Meteorology. Mineralogy. Music. NATURAL HISTORY: Mineralogy. Geology. Botany. Zoology. Animal Physiology. Human Physiology. Vegetable Physiology Comparative Ana- tomy, &c. Perspective. Physiology, Animal. Physiology, Human, Pneumatics. Reading. Shorthand. Singing. Sketching from Nature, Sound. Spanish Language. Spanish Literature. Trigonometry. Writing, Zoology. PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS MONTHLY. A- *. NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. ----- - —— Y some opinions OF THE BRITISH PREss ON WARD AND LOCK'S UniMBTSăl Illstrll(ſ). ! This Work has been reviewed by a very large number of Newspapers and Literary and Educational Periodicals throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland, and in all cases favourably. The following are a few selections — tº THE WORK IS EXCELLENT, AND IT IS TO BE HOPED IT MAY MEET WITII THE POPULARITY IT DESERVES,”—The Athenaeuml. “We have waited to see the second part before expressing an opinion upon Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor; or, Self-Culture for All,” and find the promise of the opening more than fulfilled now that, the subjects are beginning to advance, . . . . The various authors have evidently laboured to condense the greatest amount of information into their lessons, and while helping beginners, they in no way overlook the requirements of students who need higher instruction. The comprehensive excellence of the work is combined with cheap- ness, and thus it offers an undoubted boon to those who wish to enrich their minds and improve their position by self-culture."—London Daily Chronicle, “We are pleased with this first part, and can imagine the wealth of advantage which many young students will gain from its use. It is well printed on good paper of a handy size. . . . . . It is a very cheap and useful publication.”—The Christian World. “The first number is a storehouse of knowledge in itself, and at the first start a good Selection of subjects are dealt with. The contributors include some of the best known men in their various de- partments of knowledge. . . . . . The work pro- mises to be one difficult to excel as a means of imparting educational knowledge for everyone.”— The Derby Telegraph. “We can heartily recommend this new publica- tion to all who are desirous of self-culture ; the contributions, as well as the illustrations, are all good.”—Sheffield Telegraph, “The work, which is well got up, is an important and valuable addition to the educational literature of the day.”—Bristol Mercury. “We do not hesitate to say that the ‘Universal Instructor,' when completed, will, to those who carefully study its pages, prove to be one of the greatest educational blessings which have emanated from any publishing firm. . . . . We should rejoice to know that this most valuable work was to be found in every family.”—Derbyshire Gazette, “We feel assured that the publication will be productive of much good, as it appears to be admir- ably adapted to the requirements of all classes of students.”—Western Daily Mercury, \ “It promises to be a work of undoubted merit, and of real value. . . . . We predict for it much acceptance by those who desire to acquire learning and to become well-informed men,”—The Educa. tional Chronicle. “All the subjects are treated in an easy, simple, clear, comprehensive manner; and from a careful perusal of the present part, we can safely recom- mend the work as one of sterling merit.”—Dundee Courier. “The more we see of this admirable work the more we think of it. Every subject is made so clear, and is expressed in so simple and definite language, that every one may learn himself. We know no better book for self-cultivation, and it will form a good library in itself when completed.” – Dundee Advertiser. “We cannot too highly praise ‘Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor.' . . . . It will be a treasure to all who wish to improve their knowledge; and the excellent character of the publication is fully main- tained in the current issue.”—Boston Guardian, “A more useful work than this no man could provide for a son or a daughter of studious turn,”— The Chelmsford Chronicle. y f “So worthy of popular estimation does it seem to us, that we are convinced that if one number is purchased the whole series will be taken, and it cannot be too highly spoken of.”—East Anglian Daily Times, “There will never cease to be many fields and abundant scope for self-instruction, and always a large number of students to whom such a work will be a welcorne boon.”—School Board Chronicle. “The impression which a glance through its pages has left upon us is one of extreme satis- faction. The nature of the subjects taken up and the admirable manner in which they are treated in the part before us, place this work in advance of some other publications that claim to be cyclo- paedic in their scope, and similar in their character, . . . . But the great number of subjects on which instruction is conveyed' is not the only feature of the work which commands admiration. The man- ner of teaching is a matter of no less importance, and this is in every case practical, clear, and intel- ligible.”—The Weekly Budget. \ NEW YORK : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. } A G-loš | || Part, A l! 3 | a- |Price 25 Cents. ---------> === | lºº “ABOVE ALL THINGS STUDY." | Algº ... < || ANATO MY ºr - || ARCHITECTURE ASTRONOMY & B10CRAPHY & BOOK-KEEPINC | Botany . . . . CHEMISTRY & ARTH METIC ºr | ÄRosfocKS | | Rºº--- L-N - º sº - ** --- ---------arrº- == **"ºf sº º sº. º. ººº- Tº anº º: º º: º Sºº- ׺, SSºxº º º§§§& Cº ºccº a º sº º * § Tº } º º X º § ºF Nº.5% 3. C tº &. § \º º C C K º C * º º C. Sº Rº &: ſº Žº NSS º : sº are e ºr S.S.S.Sº # tº gº sº º º º SEE º º: A. º º . . . …attººs SSº º: sº º sºciate crºº - * C Sº RH fººtº he sº ºn . . . . ſº set tº ſº 3BS §§§ſ | A ſº j\\ \" | ..º. | SºH. || "... Kº - to tº D bºttº º, 'MV | Bºb Pºo wrºtº . º jºlº, FOR ALL tº us º (wº tº *- —-\{e}{-— º: ºf ULLYºs, ºil ILLUSTRATEDs R" (g (e e AGENTS FOR AMERICA : 2. s *º THE INTERNATIONAL NEws company, 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New York, |- mºm Complete in 39 Monthly Parts. \, i– t A THE NEW SERIAL FOR SELF-EDUCATORs. Forming the Cheapest and most Useful" Work ever issuedfor the People. •- \ A t | PRICE 25 CENTS, MONTHLY. w A R D & LOC K’s UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR; Or, Self-Culture for All.' *...* with PART 1, is PRESENTED GRATIS a Valuable CHART OF THE HISTORY of THE world, and with PART III, a CHART illustrating the INTELLECTUAL AND || MATERIAL PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. | { *~. f J RecognisiNG the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exists for carefully prepared literature suited to the wants of Self-Educators, WARD, L9CK & Co. have prepared a Serial Work of an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete Encyclopædia of Learning, meeting 'the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such, features as will, the Publishers confidently béeve, give it a marked superiority oves every similar undertaking. The comprehensive- ness of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illustrations, the convenience of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominent position. IT CANNot BE Too OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, for, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. Hence naturally arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on better terms with those around, not only in business but in social life? This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR undertakes to anSWer. é THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is nothing short of a University at Home, and will admirably suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. y 3 At the same time, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR does not overlook the wants of those moré." fortunately situated. . It contains exact information on every subject likely to be useful to those able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. t \ , THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR cover the whole field of knowledge, They extend, as will be seen from the list given on page 3, , from the most elementary, to the most || advanced, and, taken together, form a £erſect system of Intellectual Cit/ture. The latest thought of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, find adequate representation ; and whilst we would \ will prove eminently lively and interesting. they deal, and in nothing, the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, is the INSTRUCTOR. more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. and authentic. “v avoid pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in affirming that our lessons THE WRITERs will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics with which THE ILLUSTRATIONs are to be numbered by hundreds, and may be depended upon as accurate r * UNIVERSAL ] t BUT THE OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is not only to impart learning and make well- informed men. It has been kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to head wiser and better lives. . The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR endeavours to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making students, it fails to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. t { } * Such, then, being the OBJECTs and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the Publishers confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not?—in the elevation of the people the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will be slow to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations so elevated. -: i t \ * Y. ł * } “ababe all things, study, whether for the Hair at learning or for any other reason, stung. jar (pijateger the motifieß that impel gutt at firāt, utſu ſuilt herp figun tube gfully fºr its dºn Bake.” - , , is For List of Subjects included in THE UNIVERSAL INSTRU ctoR, Séé £age 3 andfor Opinions of the British Press, see page 4 of this cover. ~ *- r s' or —r- t \ NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS company. . . . i– A -** - y a- ºr * ; GEO LOGY. 321 ~g- suggested by Mr. Huxley, of “homotaxial,”* rather than of “contemporaneous” formations. We propose now to consider the several groups of strata in their order of succession, beginning with the lowest. PRE-CAMBRIAN ROCKS. Of the pre-Cambrian rocks of Great Britain there is little to be said. In the outer Hebrides, and on the north-west coast of Scotland, the Cambrian strata rest unconformably upon rocks designated by Sir R. Murchison as the “funda- mental gneiss” of the Highlands; that these are pre-Cambrian, therefore, there can be no doubt; that they are metamorphic, and were originally sedimentary deposits, is also generally allowed; and that they once contained fossil remains of animal life is highly probable; but more than that it would not be safe to affirm. Certain rocks occurring at St. David's, in Pem- brokeshire, and others in Anglesey, Holyhead, and adjacent parts of Caernarvonshire, have | i | . º § G *.* sº C -e:=== ------" §§§ Eºs G tº ſº. **** Highlands has been, with some probability, regarded as belonging to the Laurentian series of North America, where & pre-Cambrian rocks form im- iºn mense mountain masses. In § Canada they occupy an area of about 200,000 Square miles, and attain a thickness of between 30,000 and 40,000 ft. These rocks have been divided into two series, under the names of lower and upper Laurentian. They are meta- morphic rocks, “consisting mainly of gneiss interstratified with mica- schist, with great beds of quartz, and massive beds of crystallinº limestone, of which one varies from 700 to 1,500ft. in thickness. Conglomerates also occur, and there are vast deposits of magnetic and specular iron. Graphite or black lead is dis- seminated in strings, veins, and beds through hundreds of feet of the lower Laurentian, and its amount is calculated by Dr. Dawson to be equal in quantity to the coal seams of an equal area of the carboniferous rocks” (Nicholson). §§§ º-º-º-º VIEW NEAR GREAT MALWRBN. also recently been described by Dr. Hicks as pre-Cambrian, and as consisting of three formations, to which he has given the names of Dimetian, Pebidian, and Arvonian. They are composed partly of highly altered and partly of igneous rocks, and an endeavour has been made to trace them in other localities, where, according to the same authority, they have hitherto been confounded with Cambrian strata. This classification has, however, been only to a limited extent accepted by geologists, and it remains to be seen whether the discrimi- nation can be sustained. A part of the Malvern range is generally regarded as pre-Cambrian ; and the fundamental gneiss of the Scottish * From Ögös, “like”; and rášis, “order” or “rank”; that is, strata having the same order or position in the geological scale. # The first two of these names are derived from Dinetia, the ancient name for a kingdom which in- cluded this part of North Wales; Pebidam, the name of the division or hundred in which these rocks are chiefly exposed; the designation Arvonian is derived from the ancient name of Caernarvon (Gaer-yn-Arvon). WOL. I. The lower Laurentian are over 20,000 ft. in thickness, and the upper Laurentian—more than 10,000 ft. thick—are also highly crystal- line and metamorphic, and rest unconformably upon the lower series. From the description given above, it is a fair inference that both vegetable and animal life existed upon the globe in the early days of the world's history. It is difficult to imagine the formation of immense beds of limestone and large quantities of graphite by any other means than by the alteration of animal and vegetable remains. Hitherto, however, no distinctly recognizable fossil has been discovered, with the important exception of the Eozoön Cana: dense, which has been pronounced by the best authorities to have been a gigantic foraminifer, growing layer upon layer, and thus forming reefs of limestone. Notwithstanding the great preponderance of opinion in favour of this view, the subject is still a matter of dispute. The éozoön was discovered by Mr. J. M“Mullen in 1858 at the Grand Calumet, on the river 21 \, 322 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTO R. Ottawa, and has since been found in consider- able quantity. It received its name from Dr. Dawson, whose opinion has been endorsed by Dr. Carpenter, Professor T. Rupert Jones, and many other competent authorities. The Lau- rentian rocks stretch northward, and form the fundamental rocks of the Polar area. THE Noun (continued).--THEORY. 2. ON THE GENDER OF NOUNS ENDING IN e MUTE.-a, Nouns ending in e mute preceded by another vowel are feminine : la pensée, thought ; la plaie, Sore ; la joie, joy ; la folie, madness; la rue, street ; la lieue, league ; la moue, pout ; la vague, wave ; la république, republic; une abbaye, abbey. |EXCEPTIONS. Apogée, athée, Athénée, caducée, camée, chasse- marée, colusée, coryphée, élysée, empyrée, gº hymenée, hypogée, lycée, mausolée, miscellanées (pl.), Imusée, périgée, protée, prytanée, pygmée, rez-de- chaussée, scarabée, spondée, trophée. Foie Aphélie, génie, incendie, parapluie, périhélie, scolie. Apologue, besigue, catalogue, dialogue, épilogue, orgue (in the sung.), prologue. Abaque, casque, claque (crush hat), cloaque, Zodiaque, chèque; cantique, cosmétique, distique, élastique, émétique, masque, mastique, panégirique, physique (personal appearance), portique, stomachique, topigue, toxigue, tropigue, viatique; colloque, phoque, Soliloque; calque, casque, cirque, disque, kiosque, lentisque, manque, masque, mollusque, obélisque, risque, socque. b. Nouns ending in e mute preceded by a double consonant are feminine : étoffe, stuff; Salle, hall; gomme, gum ; tonne, cask ; grappé, bunch ; barre, stroke; basse, hunch ; patte, paw. EXCEPTIONS. Greffe (chancery), hippogriffe. Boute-selle, caville, chêvrefeuille, codicille, drille, gille, 1sabelle (light bay), intervalle, labelle, mille, polichinelle, portefeuille, quadrille, sille, trille, vaude- ville, vermicelle (also vermicel), violoncelle. Dilemme, gramme (and all compounds eaccept une épigramme), lemme, somme (map). Renne (male reindeer, the female is called la remne). Bécarre, beurre, cimeterre, courre, leurre, lierre, parterre, Squirre (80me write squirrhe), tintamarre, tonnerre, verre, Carrosse, colosse, paillasse (clown). Squelette. c. Nouns ending in le, me, re, preceded by a consonant, are masculine : le crible, sieve or riddle ; le socle, stand ; le Souffle, breath ; le seigle, rye ; le peuple, people ; le merle, black- bird;—le dogme, dogma ; le schisme, Schism ; an asthme, asthma ; une of me, elm ;-le Sabre, sword ; le Sacre, coronation ; le cadre, frame ; le Soufre, sulphur; le vinaigre, winegar; le pampre, vine ; le mêtre, metre. EXCEPTIONS. Bible, étable, esteuble (also €teule), fable, hièble (8ome make it masc.), table; besicles, débâcle, manicle (also called manique), péton cle, sanicle; mornifle, ačfle, pantoufle, rafle (also called raffe); €pingle, régle, Sangle, tringle perle. Enigme; arme, alarme, berme, chiourme, corme, ferme, forme, gourme, larme. molosse, narcisse, Parnasse, Fibre, ombre, ténèbres (pl.), vertèbre ; encre; Calandre, cendre, clepsydre, coriandre, hydre, ma- landre, salamandre, scolopendre; affre (usually pl., a º: bäfre, balafre, gaufre, offre; chiragre ###. podagre; Cápre (capre, without the S is masc., and means a pirate ship, O S ); chartre, darte, épitre, fenêtre, guêtre, huitre, martre (also mar'e), mitre, outre, patenótre, palestre, plastre, poutre, vitre; couleuvre, fièvre, lèvre, livre (a powmd), pieuvre, plevre. d. Nouns ending in ge preceded by a vowel are masculine : le ramage, warbling ; le piège Snare : le pleige, security (O. S.); le litige, litigation ; ºn éloge, praise ; le bouge, hovel ; le refuge, refuge. EXCEPTIONS. Ambages {}} cage, Čnallage, hypallage, image: nage, page (of a book), passerage, rage, saxifrage, allège; neige; tıge, voltige; horloge, loge, toge; gouge, and all ºn auge. The four rules given above do not exhaust the subject; it will be continued in subsequent lessons. The student, meanwhile, is warned against spending much time over questions of gender, and against committing the exceptions to memory. An occasional reading aloud of the paragraphs, in taking care to place the correct article or adjective before each noun, is all that is necessary. Indeed, from observa- tion and general practice of French, he will soon make up for himself a set of rules which will answer his wants and the bent of his mind better than what grammarians can offer him ; for, although some claim to have discovered the royal road, the arrangement of the matter remains entirely arbitrary. ADJECTIVES. An adjective is a word which expresses a quality of a substantive. When it stands immediately beside the noun, either before or after, it is said to be used in an attributive sense; when it stands apart, being affirmed of the noun, it is used in a predicative sense. In le beau Soleil, the beautiful Sun, and la lumière argentée, both beau, and argemtée are attributes; but in le Soleil est beau and la lumière est argentée, beau and argentée being affirmed of soleil and lumière, are predicates. Whether used as an attribute or a predicate, an adjective agrees in gender and number with the noun or pronoun which it qualifies. All adjectives being supposed to appear originally in the masculine singular, it remains to form their feminine and plural. The feminine of an adjective is formed by adding e mute to the masculine. This mute letter, which after a vowel has no effect, modifies the sound of the word very con- siderably when it comes after an inarticulated COInsonant : carré, square chéri, cherished bleu, blue grand, large (gram) petit, small (p'ti) petite (p’t it’) fin, fine (fin, nasal) fine (finn) This general rule for the formation of the feminine has a vast number of exceptions. Whether the adjective be masculine or femi- hine, the plural is formed by adding s : carrés, carrées ; châris, chéries; bleus, bleues, etc. Feminine adjectives follow invariably this rule, carrée (pr. carré) chérie (pr. chéri) bleue (pr. bleu) grande (grand’) Jºſé/04/C// G R.A.M.M.A. ft. as they all end in e, and as there is no other way of forming a plural after e than by 8. In masculine adjectives Some exceptions may be mentioned ; as these follow the lines of exceptions observable in nouns, with which the student is acquainted, they may be mentioned IO.O.W. a. Adjectives ending in s and ar, as bas, low, fanta, false, remain as they are. b. Adjectives ending in aw take ac, as mouveau, pl. nouveaua. [Those in eu and ow follow the general rule.] c. Most adjectives in al make awa: ; colonial, pl. coloniawa’. Practical Application. 1. WOCABULARY WII. d. Adjectives and Past Participles treated adjectively. blanc, white gris, grey bon, good gros, big fort, strong creux, hollow large faux, false grand } talſ. heureux, happy neuf, new jaloux, jealous petit, small rare, Scarce rempli, filled vendu, sold gras, fat pieux, pious beau, beautiful animal, animal minéral, mineral végétal, vegetable 2. The simple tenses of étre— Present Infinitive, étre, to be Present Participle, étant, being Past Participle, été, been INDICATIVE. Perfect Definite. je fus, I was tufus, thou ovast il fut, he mas Inous fümes, me ºvere vous fêtes, you ºvere ils furent, they mere I'uture Absolute. je serai, I shall be tu seras, thou ovilt be il sera, he will be Inous serons, ove shall be vous Serez, you mill be ils seront, they will be Present. ne suis-je pas ? n’es-tu pas ? n’est-il pas ? ne sommes-nous pas ? n’étes-vous pas ? ne sont-ils pas? Imperfect. j’étais, I mas tu ètais, thou ºvast il était, he 7tas nous étions, ove overe vous étiez, you ºvere ils étaient, they were | CONDITIONAL. Present or Future. Do. Interrogatively. je serais, I should be Serais-je ? 3. tu Serais, thou ºvowldst be serais-tu ? § il Serait, he avould be Serait-il 7 S. nous serions, ºve should be serions-nous ! s vous seriez, you would be seriez-vous? § ils Seraient, they would be seraient-ils? § IMPERATIVE. Affirmatively. Wegatively. sois, be thout ne Sois pas, § qu'il soit, let him be qu'il ne soit pas, Š Soyons, let us be ne Soyons pas, §. Soyez, be ye ne soyez pas, § qu'ils Soient, let them be qu'ils ne soient pas, § 3 ~ 3 SUBJUNCTIVE. Present. Imperfect. º - - kº, que je sols § que je fusse s que * º s que lºses S. qu'll SOI S. Qu 11. It š. que mous Soyons & que mous fussions § que vous Soyez Š' que vous fussiez § qu'ils Soient § qu'ils fussent $. Remark.-Strictly speaking, there is in French no third person in the imperative. The forms given above are taken, as they invariably are, from the present subjunctive, and are only mentioned to show how the English imperative is rendered into French. Qu'il soit, qu'ils soient, etc., therefore, always suppose a proposition understood ; , qu’ils solent heureuse, let them be happy = je désire qu'ils soient heureu.c. Consult also remarks after avoir, p. 196. EXERCISE XIX. (May be passed over.) Ascribe the correct gender to these nouns:– Craie, chalk; roue, orheel; proie, prey; soic. silk ; boue, mºud ivraie, tares ; carie, rotten- mess; série, series ; hyménée, marriage; desti- née, fate ; scarabée, beetle ; fée, fairy, nuées, clouds ; portée, reach ; blague, pouch, Orgues, organs; mastique, putty; Téplique, cale; manque. mant: trique, cudgel; bougie, rvaa’ candle : abeille, bee : assiette, piate ; hotte, hod ; ton- merre, thunder ; programme, bill ; bagatelle, trifle ; isabelle, light bay horse; famille. family ; rosse, sorry horse ; faucille, sickle : amarre, hayvse?', trappe, trap ; grippe, in- fluenza : trèfle, clover ; néfle, medlar ; coffre, boa: ; genre, kind ; givre, rime; girofle, cloves : giroflée, gilliftoner, pantoufle, slipper ; sal- pêtre, saltpetre ; fable, fable ; catéchisme, catechism. ; fanatisme, famaticism ; marasmc. consumption ; fiacre, cab ; Sable, sand ; bible. bible ; terme, term ; usage, use ; image, pic- ture ; siège, seat ; neige, snomy; radotage. dotage ; tirage, drawing ; Sauge, Sage ; COrtège, procession ; prodige, ºvonder. BXERCISE XX. (For the nouns, look up the examples given in illustration of the rules of this Lesson.) 1. Here is a beccafico ; is it (he) not small 2. The gratuities were (perf def) not large. 3. Louisa, how tall you are (you are tall) . 4. Were (imperf.) the passports new 7 5. That she might not be small. 6. Are we not happy : 7. Thou wilt be big and fat. 8. The farmyards would be filled. 9. Baritones (v. 3, p. 3) are not so scarce as (que) white * blackbirds (v. 8, p. 3—merle blanc corresponds to the proverbial expression rara avis). 10. Here are beautiful" (v. 1, p. 141) cauliflowers in the garden beds. 11. Are screech-owls white or grey 7 12. My brother's etchings and copper-plates will be 13. Children (no art. before the nomina- tive of address), be good and pious ; let us never be false and jealous. 14. The republic was. (imperf) strong. 15. The stuffs would be sold 16. Some (v. 8, p. 74) vegetable, * mineral, *- and animal” substances (Fr. Substances, fem.); some vegetable, mineral, and animal products: (Fr. produits, masc.). 17. The huge * cask of Nuremberg was (perf, def) filled with (de) white * wine. 18. Thy father's elms are rather (unpeu) low. 19. The screech-owl had (impeºf) a refuge in a hollow * tree (arbre, masc.). 20. To be or not to be. sold. * These adjectives are placed after the noun in French, THE UNIVERSAI, WAVSTAE UCTOR. WG º - º § ºiſ, tº F \w | Yº)|Jºs º:Sºº & º HYDRO GEN. THIS gas, when pure, is tasteless, colourless, and invisible. It is not met with naturally pure or uncom- bined, but con- stituting as it "does volumetrically the prin- cipal constituent of water, it may be regarded as one of the most widely diffused of all the elements. Hydrogen, in a condition of tolerable purity, may be obtained by a process the exact nature of which we are not yet in a position to explain, but which we will do under the head of Nitrogen, when speaking of acids and salts. For this purpose the following ap paratus is required: a Woolf’s bottle, the construction of which will be understood from the diagram on page 297, is three parts filled with water and a certain quantity of zinc shavings or granulated zinc. Sulphuric acid is now gradually introduced g through the upright tube. Ano- Fº * ther bent glass tube conveys the *** gas, as fast as it is formed, into a bell-jar filled with water, and having its open end plunged below the } surface of that liquid contained in any suitable vessel. The hydrogen gas will gradually displace the water in the bell-jar. In the case of a gas that is soluble in water we have to employ the liquid metal mercury instead of that fluid when collect- ing it. This gas, if burnt, gives rise, as has already been explained, to water by its union with the oxy- - ... gen of the Its combustion, a i r. It burns with a pale blue flame, giving forth con- siderable heat and but little light. Balloons are filled with H on account of its extreme 2, ... . . . ... lightness, being 14% times as *;... light as ordinary atmospheric air. ****** A balloonrises in the air just as a bóttle does in water; because it is filled with a fluid much ſlighter than the suſWounding me dium. Balloons in practice are gefieſälly:#fläfte with coa; gas, which contains a large proportion of hydrogen, and which, although not so light as Attributes of hydrogen, x * sy: - ~~ MAGNESIUM WIRE BURNED IN OXY GEN. ~~ §§,\\\\\\ sº yº COMBUSTION OF PHosphorus. } % * // this gas in a pure and uncombined state, is nevertheless employed on account of its being much less expensive, Of H2O,” hydrogen mon- oxide, or water, we have already spoken. Another compound, hydrogen dioxide, H2O, can be produced by the art of the chemist, but is not met with in nature. This, which is some- times known as “oxygenated water,” is a very unstable compound, parting readily with its surplus of O, and reverting to the condition of the mon- oxide or water. In consc- quence of its giving off O thus freely, it acts as a power- ful bleaching agent. In the presence of ozone the mon- Oxide is resolved into water and ordinary O. H. unites with many of the other ele- ments to form a number of highly important compounds, of which we shall speak in due course. H is not only the lightest of all known bodies, but its combining weight corresponds with its specific gravity. The weight, therefore, of a Compounds of hydrogen with Oxygen, given volume Hº º Of H affords Stan - 3.TCI O weight. a Standard whereby to ascertain the weight of a similar volume of any other gas at the same temperature and under similar conditions of atmospheric pres- sure. It has been proposed to take the weight of a cubic decimetre of H as the standard, calling it the Krith, from the Greek word for a barleycorn. The cubic decilitre is a cube of * * rather less Ascertaining the than four weights of XXV º e & & inches, and gases } t | º 'y? its contents constitute the French measure of capa- city known as a litre, which is rather more than a pint and three- quarters. A litre of H weighs 0.08936 of a gramme, or less than a grain and a half—the weight of the gramme being about 15% grains. Knowing, as we do, that the weight of N is four- teen times that of H, and that of O sixteen times w - that of H, we have only to multiply the weight of the litre of H to obtain that of the corresponding volume of either of the latter, thus: 0-08936x16 = 1:430 grammes, the weight of a litre of O ; and 0.08936x 14 = 1.251 grammes, or the weight of ... a litre of N; and so on for any other gas, whether elementary or compound. - & Hºosi gifies that there are two atoms of Hººto one of Q. Figures placed below the symbols denote the number when more than two. - CHEMIST A2Z. 325, OXYGEN. This gas is perhaps entitled to be considered the most important of all the elements, on ac- w count of the infinite variety of Oxygen sup- its compounds, both organic and Pºº. inorganic. It has already been tion and wital action, shown to be the great supporter of combustion and vitality. It oxists not only in the air we breathe, in the water we drink, and in the Substance of our own ... bodies, but forms, in combination Cºmbines with with other elements, the greater other elements, portion of the solid materials of which this world is built up. O under normal conditions presents itself to our senses as an invisible, tasteless gas. If breathed pure, it accelerates the action of the heart, quickens the circulation of the blood, and stimulates vital action generally. It is occasionally administered me- dicinally with good effect, but should only be employed by an experience d practitioner, as its incautious use may be attended with danger and even death. O may be obtained by the decomposi- tion of any com- pound containing it. If a small quantity of the Ted Oxide of mer- cury be intro- duced into a test tube and held over the flame of a spirit lamp, it will be decom- posed, O will be given off, and the liquid metal will be deposited, in small globules, on the cooler portions of the sides of the test tube. The sub- stance which is generally employed, however, to obtain pure O, is the salt known as potassium- chlorate. This substance, mixed with a cer- tain quantity of the black oxide of manganese, is introduced into a retort, and subjected to a degree of heat sufficient to effect its decompo- sition. The gas may be collected in a stoppered bell-jar in the same manner as H. The appa- ratus employed for the purpose is very simple, and may be easily put together. A chip of glowing wood, or a recently extin- guished taper, if introduced into this gas, at once . . bursts into a flame. An iron nail Combustiºn in or piece of steel watch-spring, if ** rendered incandescent, or white- hot, and plunged into a jar of O, is rapidly GEN Elk ATION OF CHLORINE. burnt away with brilliant scintillations : this is a very pretty experiment. The result is the formation of oxide of iron. A piece of phosphorus, the size of a pea, if placed in a deflagrating spoon and kindled by being touched with a red-hot iron wire, burns in O with intense Affinity of brilliancy. Phosphorus, having Phosphorus for *- Oxygen, a strong affinity for O, cannot be kept in contact with the free O of the atmo- sphere, as it would unite with it and enter into slow combustion. It must therefore be preserved under water, and care must be taken thoroughly to dry the portion intended to be burnt in O. Owing to the intensity of the combustion, the water would be instantly converted into steam, giving rise to an explosion whereby small por- tions of the glow- ing phosphorus are impelled against the sides of a glass jar and crack it. Care must likewise be taken in handling phosphorus not to let it come into contact with the fingers, as the heat of the han ºl is often sufficient to determine its combustion, and it inflicts a very SG W G T G burn, which heals With difficulty. Oforms compounds with every known ele- ment, with the single exception of fluorine, of which no Com- pound with O has as yet been dis- covered, although we are not justi- fied in asserting that none exists. The different compounds of O will be treated of under the head of the various elements, as they present themselves for our consideration. NITROGEN. This gas has already been described as singu- larly inert and destitute of special characteristics. Although not possessing any strong affinity for O, N forms, névertheless, no fewer than five distinct chemical compounds with that gas, each of which exhibits very marked and striking attributes, one of them giving rise to the power- ful acid known as nitric acid or aquafortis. The proportion of O in each of these compounds is as the numbers 1, Compounds of 2, 3, 4, 5, to a quantity of N which nitrºgen with does not vary—that is to say, is °F" the same in each. They illustrate, therefore, in a very striking manner, the truth of the law TEIE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. of chemical combination in multiple proportion on which the atomic theory is founded. Taking the combining weight of H as 1, those of N and O will be found to be as 14 and 16—that is, they will combine in exactly that proportion by weight with every other ele- Illustration of ment with which they enter into º chemical union. Let us suppose by weight, i. compound to be one contain- ing a greater quantity than this of O, then the quantity will be found to be 16 × 2 = 32, I6 × 3 = 48, or some higher multiple of 16; two parts of N will be represented by 14 × 2 = 28, and so on for all the other elements, but no intermediate combinations are ever found to exist. It is impossible, for instance, for any compound to contain an atom and a quarter or an atom and a half of O, quantities that would be represented respectively by the figures 20 and 24. "Let us see how this is illustrated in the nitrogen series of oxides or compounds With O. 1. Nitrogen monoxide, containing 28 N. -- 16 O 2. Nitrogen dioxide 5 y 28 N. -- 32 O 3. Nitrogen trioxide }} 28 N. -- 48 O 4. Nitrogen tetroxide 25 28 N. -- 64 O 5. Nitrogen pentoxide 35 28 N. -- 80 O Here it will be seen that we have in each case two volumes or atoms of N combined with 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 atoms of O. If Oxides of we were justified in assuming the : divisibility of the ultimate par- *...* ticle or atom, we might consider the first of this series of com- pounds as 1 atom of N united to 3 atom of O, and the pentoxide as 1 of N united to 2% of O; but knowing, as we do, that no such com- binations are possible, and that every increase in the quantity of any element, entering into chemical union with another, is an increase in the ratio of a multiple of its combining weight, and that we have exactly twice or three times or four times as much as that weight, of course we are not iustified in any such assumption. Nitrogen and oxygen do not readily com- bine. They may nevertheless be made to do so & ... by causing a series of electric Slight affinity jºo pass through a glass of nitrogen for tº º S & oxygen, vessel containing dry atmospheric air. The presence of these com- pounds, the tri- and tetr-oxides of N and O, will be manifested by the appearance of red-coloured vapours in the vessel. Similar combinations of N and O are frequently determined by the passage of the electricity through the air during a thunderstorm ; and if an alkali be present the result will be the formation of a salt exercising a fertilizing influence on vege- tation when brought to the earth by the drops of rain. Nitrogen enters into combination with various metals, as mercury, copper, titanium, molybdenum, and vanadium, forming a class of compounds to which the term Witrides is applied. Their most marked characteristic is that they are highly explosive, resolving them- selves when struck, or at a high temperature, into their constituent elements, XI. (continued).-ADJECTIVES. D. Adjectives and Wowns declined together, in agreement myith each other :- (1) The Adjective with a Feminine Noun. Singular. N.W. Parvá mensã, a small table, or O small table a small table of a small table to or for a small table Ac. Parvam mensam, G. Parvae mensae, D. Parvae mensab, Ab. Parvā mensã, by, with, or from a small table Plum'al. N.W. Parvae mensæ, small tables, or O small tables Small tables of small tables to or for small tables .* by, with, or from small tables (2) The Adjective with a Masculine Noun. Singular. N. Bönüs döminis, W. Böné dùminé, Ac. Bönum déminum, G. Böni démini, D. Bömö déminö, Ac. Parvās mensãs, G. Parvārum mensãrum, D. Parvis mensis, Ab. Parvis mensis, a good lord O good lord a good lord of a good lord to or for a good lord by, with, or from a good lord Ab. Bönödöminö, Plural. N.W. Böni démini, good lords, or O good lords good lords of good lords to or for good Ac. Bömös déminös, G. Bönörum döminörum, D. Bónis déminis, lords Ab. Bónis déminis, by, with, or from good lords (3) The Adjective with a Neuter Noun. Singular. N.W.A. Magnum regnum, a great kingdom, or O great king- dom of a great king- dom to or for a great kingdom by, with, or from a great kingdom G. Magni regni, D. Magnú regnó, Ab. Magnú regnó, JPlural. N.W.A. Magná regna great kingdoms, or O great king- doms G. Magnúrum regnórum, of great kingdoms D. Magnis regnis, to or for great kingdoms by, with, or from great kingdoms Ab. Magnis regnis, L-1TIM. 327 Self-Earamination Questions and Eazereises. What is the difference between the Latin and the English adjective inform and in relation to the noun ? What is meant by the agreement of the Latin adjective with its moun ? Give an example of a Latin adjective agreeing with its noun in number, case and gender. How may adjectives be divided according to their endings? Write out the declension of altus (like bonus), of brevior (like melior), of fallaa. (like felia), of celer (like acer), of brevis (like Żristis), of asper (like tener), and ager (like ater). What is remarkable about the declension of deacter? Decline together bonus dominus. garva memsa, and magnum regnum. Translate into English :— Horum magnorum regnorum. De his clari- oribus flammis hujus magnæ urbis. Ante altas portas hujus sanctae urbis. Non saepe in his campestribus locis est pugna ferox. In gramine laeto erunt fallaces herbae. Non hoc in mundo est Dei altius regnum. In parvá, domo agricolae est grata pax per ommes menses. Coelum est atrum densis nubibus, etaether clarior Solis lumine mitet. Hic locus est silvester. Regio palustris non salubris est nostris corporibus. Divites non semper felices. AEger homo est miser homo. Tenera conjux est dulce Solamen curae suo wiro caro. Translate into Latin:—— This little boy. Before these high trees. Behind the dark cloud. The tongue is rough and not tender. Bright are the flames of the fire in the city. O happy children of a happy mother I The peace of God is sweet to the soul. The fear of war is great to all men. The temples of the gods are sacred. The flames of these fires are red to the eyes. In the presence of God and of the angels is no weeping. Alexander the Great was an illustrious (bright) general and conqueror of all the earth. This man is active and this woman is fair. In the high heaven is always bright light. The great kingdom belongs to (render is to) a great king and an active general in war. LESSON XII.-NUMERAL ADJECTIVES. Wnus, one, is thus declined :- Singular. Masc. Fem. Neut. N. Unus Ull?, Ulrl Ulúl W. Une Till 8, Tºld Ullººl A. Umum Tilla, ºl Uill'Ullàl G. Unius unius unius D. Uni uni uni A. Uno ună Williº O - Plum'al. Masc. Tem. Neut. N. Uni Ulrl£6 Ulrla, V. Uni Ulrl2: ll Ila, A. Unos Tºllº 8,8 TII].8, G. Undrum unarum unorum I). Unis unis unis A. Unis unis unis Observe that unus has no plural number, unless it is joined to a noun that has no singular number, as una litera, a letter, una "maenia, a wall. The following nouns are declined like unus, having, observe, iws (seldom ius in the genitive singular, and the dative in i ; but alter makes the genitive singular alterius. Sölüs, 3., um, alone. Töttis, #, um, whole. Ullås, #, um, any. Nullûs, #, um, no, none. Utér, utrā, utrum, which of two. Neutér, neutrā, neutrum, neither of two. Altér, altérä, altérum, one of two ; . . . . altér, the one . . . . the other. Aliās, aliá, Ālīūd, one of any number ; filiūs . ālītis, one . . . . another ; in pl. Some, altér others. Duo, two, is thus declined:— Plural. Masc. Fern. Neut. N. duo duaº duo W. duo dua duo A. duos & duo duas duo G. duorum duarum duorum D. duobus duahus duobus A. duobus duabus duobus Ambo, both, is declined like duo; and observe that the masculine accusative has two forms: duos and duo and ambos and ambo. Tres, three, is thus declined :- Plural. Masc. Fern. Neut. N. trés tria V. trés tria. A. £règ tria G. trium D. tribus A. tribus Millia, thousands, is thus declined:— Platº'al. N. millia V. millia A. millia G. millium D. millibus A millibus Mille, in the singular, is indeclinable. THE LEAVES (continued). MANY plants are purely aquatic, such as water-lilies in their many kinds, not one of which can be persuaded to live upon dry land for ever so short a wº. er-plants, Leaves of time. Others are amphibious— quite unconcerned whether located in a pond or by a dry and dusty wayside. The most remarkable example of the latter among British plants is the Polygonum amphibium, a frequent occupant of still waters, loving especially broad 328° j THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. and quiet meres, though content with the little bays sometimes connected with canals. In such habitats the large flat leaves float on the surface, and beautiful cones of pink flowers rise in thousands. It will accommodate itself, nevertheless, to the conditions in which docks and plantains thrive, and may be seen now and then as an inmate of the hedge, pushing upwards through the thorns till the pink blos- soms are a yard or more above the soil. Good examples of genuine aquatics are furnished also in the Potamogetons Or pond-weeds, the featherfoils (Myriophyllum spicatum and Myriophyllum verticillatum), the water-soldier (Stratiotes aloides), the Sagittaria, the Ana- charis, the Hottonia, the water starweeds, the Frogbit, and the Lemmas. A third set, not wholly amphibious, since, though able to grow upon land, they must still have plenty of mois- ture, present features of great interest in regard to their leaves. Neither in the genuine aquatics, nor in the genuine amphibia is there ever any material departure from the form of leaf assigned at the first ; but in the plants now to be mentioned most curious changes occur. Take, in particular, the common water snow-cups (Ranun- culus aquatilis). In still and moderately deep water this beautiful plant extends, like the amphibious Polygonum, indefinitely; and when in full bloom whitens the surface. If stranded, through drought or the mechanical “letting-off” of the water, it suffers very little, except in di- mensions; and what it may lose in size is com- pensated by quickened power to ripen seed. Yet nothing can present a greater contrast than the floating and the sub- merged foliage. The floating leaves are nearly circular, with three to five rounded lobes; the submerged ones are cut into Segments as fine as hair. A precisely simi- lar change occurs, when º the conditions corres- | pond, in the leaves of the rig. 50. Sium inundatum. Those of the water snow-cups have a counterpart in the foliage of the Cabomba. Nature, in her consummate playfulness, Sometimes affects poverty and imbecility. She seems to delight in showing that similar ends -XYLOPHYLL.A. FIG. 49.—EcH INocACTUS. can be attained either with or without the instruments and apparatus which, being prominent and customary,” we get into the habit of considering indis- pensable. Striking examples of this will be adduced in connection with the flowers of plants: remark- able llustrations occur also in connection with the leaves. In the great majority of flowering- plants there is a distinct blade or “lamina ’’—the flat and expanded portion in which the form or outline of the leaf is chiefly found. In a very large proportion of the exogenous class, and in a good many en- dogens, such as palms and Cala- diums, there is present likewise, as above mentioned, a distinct leaf-stalk or “petiole,” the exist- ence of which is intimated in botanical descriptions by the term “petiolate.” The leaf of the common poplar tree Supplies an excellent example of each of these two parts ; in the prim- rose the lamina passes gradually into petiole, So that there is no absolute break : In many other plants, as previously stated, a petiole is not developed ; the leaves are then said to be “sessile.” The curious fact now to be noticed is that in cer- tain plants a blade is never produced, the pe- tiole doing duty for it. Australia, the native country of so much that is rather fancifully called “anomalous,”—as if any single thing could exist in the world in contraven- tion of law, or except as the result and Outcome of a Divine law purposely instituted to originate and sustain it, is the prin- cipal seat of an extensive and very beautiful genus of trees and shrubs, which the elder botanists of Our time named Mimosa, but which are now known as Acacias. These plants are in every way interest- ing, and peculiarly so in regard to the leaves, see- ing that they illustrate in the best manner the non- development of a proper | lamina. Several of the W Acacias are of extremely º ancient renown, repre- sentatives of the genus occurring in Egypt, Arabia, and Palestine. One or two of them are referred to in the Old Testament under the name of the shittah-tree, the produce of which was the “shittim-wood,” employed for constructive purposes. The same trees FIG. 51.-RUSCUs. JBOTANY. 329 yield common gum-Arabic. These old Egyptian and Arabian acacias produce perfect leaves, of the pinnate and doubly-pinnate type, the petiole being proportionate, and in no way }}}}\,\!)4//Ze/ AZ % {& N Temarkable. So indeed do many of the Austra- lian species; but the fact remains that a very con- siderable number of the Australians, when adult, produce nothing but petioles. The seedlings have proper leaves, but after infancy there are proper leaves no longer. In the adult plant the petioles become so much lengthened and dilated as in some cases to exactly resemble the leaves of the common English willow, whilein othersthey assume various odd shapes, found nowhere else among plants. The proof of their true nature is furnished not only by the seed- lings. In the Acacia heterophylla there are both perfect leaves and dilated petioles, with inter- mediate forms, all coming at once, and standing side by side. Petioles dilated so as to resemble leaves, and OCC U OW- Phyllidia, ing #. place di leaves, are termed “phyllodia.” They oëcur not only in the Australian acacias, but elsewhere in the family which includes these beauti- ful trees—the Legumi- nosae, ind are met with evenin herbaceous plants. |Old England once agłin vindicates the representative cha- racter of our always charming flora, by Sup- plying ał example in one of the pretty na- tive peaflowers, the Lathyrus Nissolia, the dilated petioles of which plant, never being provided with leaflets, might be taken for bladés of grass, whence he popular name for the Nissolia Of “ gº. Pro- bably als, they are “phyllodiá" which we find in cetain species Of the #: Order Wºź & FIG. 52.-ACACIA HETEROPHYLLA. sº º §3 º Aº Q * -º §§ sº sº. Nº - § § §º & : º º º t ºr sº { 2:Sºlºš b. * b: Sº Gº Cº.S. ** Hºº wº- Sºlº §§ º -Sºst rºº ºš. * 2:... :-ºx *'s re º $º $$ Gzºw ºğ ** *lº S ºf Š rºº: sº t FIG. 53.—ACACIA ARABICA. of what may be expected among their congeners, Sometimes these instead of being dilated, come in the shape of mere prickles, being §§º @ Yºğ Zºº, WSW % º §§ §§§ ºr ºS §§ 4. 2 ** § \; - 4. So greatly are their petioles dilated. In the curious genera Bupleurum and Eryngium, though not universally in the latter, the entire character and complexicn of the so-called “leaves” is again that of organs imperfectly developed, and analogy seems to in- dicate that these likewise should be regarded as true “phyllodia.” Whether it be an acacia, a Lathyrus, Or anything else, that presents this singular sub- stitution of petiole for per- fect leaf, the plant is none the worse off as regards general health and vigour. The dilated petiole at once assumes all the functions and responsibilities of a genuine leaf, and practi- cally the lamina is never missed. phyllodia, Spine-form leaves. long and slender, and acutely pointed. In the Acacia verticillata, and several other species, the entire foli- age of the plant con- sists of needles re- sembling those of the common English gorse; which last supplies in itself an excellent ex- ample of the develop- ment of the entire leaf- system in its condition of nothing more than green thorns. Young plants of gorse, newly raised from seed, pos- sess proper trifoliolate leaves, resembling those of clover : when, however, these are gone, there are never any more, and the plant thenceforwards is a. mass of spines. Yet, as in the case of the phyllodineous acacias, nothing can be more hearty and energetic than the life of this beautiful shrub. Offen- sive it is, no doubt, like a thistic, to the fingers, but when in full bloom there are few objects more gorgeous in their profusion of golden Umbelliferb, the homlock or parsley-family, petals. Being found in flower both in spring plants notii very generally for their intensely multifid leakes; and several of which, especially the Angelids, seem to give a very plain hint and autumn, more or less, indeed, during nine or ten months of the year—whence the old say: ing, “when furze is out of bloom, love is out of 330 T/XE UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. season,”—it has come to be supposed that there is a constant succession of flowers on the same individual plants. But this is a mistake. There are in England two distinct species of gorse, one large and sturdy, the Ulea, Europaeus, which ãs accustomed to usher in the sweetness of Summer, the furze referred to by Coleridge, —the other is semi-prostrate, low-growing, whence its name, Ulea manus, and is essentially the furze of the autumn, at which season it floods the mountain-sides with its deep and refulgent yellow wherever they are not im- purpled by the heather. Very strikingly do £hese spinescent plants declare that if other kinds of vegetation need true leaves in order to prosper; they on the contrary, are able to thrive magnificently in default of leaves. Nature declines to be fettered by any specific methods or regulations. Nothing is more delightful to the contemplative and reflective mind than to note the diverse ways in which she achieves the same results. Genuine leaves and spine-form leaves are Sometimes found in company. A very interest- ing example of this occurs in the The Berbery common Berbery of the hedges, Aerberis vulgaris. Every one of the countless twigs is beset with pungent and usually triple thorns. Scrutinizing the nature and the genea- logy of these, it soon becomes plain that in every triplet there is contained the rudiment of a genuine leaf, a tuft of fully developed leaves being put forth from its axil, while upon vigorous shoots, not more than a year or two old, may be found all the intermediates between absolute threefold prickle and perfectly deve- loped lamina. In practical botany it is exceed- ingly important to notice particulars of this kind, and not only to notice but to interrogate carefully, since it very generally happens that what seems utterly trifling and insignificant is employed by the Divine wisdom, which under- Mies all, as the medium for disclosing the most admirable Secrets. There are, at the same time, as stated above, plants, even of very high Organization as regards the flowers and fruit, Teaſless Plants, which have their leaves deve. *** loped after a fashion so minute and inconspicuous that they are with perfect propriety described as “leafless.” Such are the grotesque members of the very curious American family named after the Cactus, Strange green fleshy pillars ; quaint melon-shaped objects ; odd and indescribable green lumps that pictures alone can give an idea of, make up this large and truly wonderful order, theindividuals sometimes rising only a few inches above the ground ; sometimes, in the forms which attain the maxi- mum of dimensions, acquiring a stature of many yards. One alone of the diversified genera produces genuine leaves—the plant called Pereskia ; in the others it is considered that the leaves are represented in the tufts of prickles usually dispersed over the surface, and which render the plants, when the prickles are long and sharp, the most formidable things of their kind in nature. Here, however, we never have the attestation of the real nature of the prickles which in the berbery and the furze at Once cancels all misgiving, and which would be So welcome did it exist. In the Epiphyllums, the plant is made up of thin green fleshy plates, jointed together, end to end, and which present SO exceedingly leaflike an appearance that they are popularly supposed to be leaves. The proof that they are portions of stem, and not leaves, is that upon the edges of these green plates stand the flowers—flowers never being produced upon leaves, but exclusively upon stems and branches. The nutritive functions performed by the leaves of plants in which these organs are perfectly developed are sup- posed to be fulfilled in the cactuses by the skin of the stem, which being soft and porous, seems exactly adapted to the emergency. §§§§§ººpſ wº § Essº ºś §:º ſ: Nºš M 22:3 º º Sºrº tº ETYMOLOGY: Classification of Words. § 70. II. The Pronour. § 71. The Personal pronoun. § 72. The Relative pronoun. § 73. The Interrogative pronoun. § 74. The Demonstrative pronoun. § 75. The Indefinite pronoun. § 76. III. The Adjective. § 77. Demonstrative Adjectives. § 78. Adjective of Quality. § 79. Adjective of Quantity. § 70. II. A Pronoun is a word tha; stands instead of a noun. We could do without pro- nouns, but our sentences would be cumbrous and clumsy. “John went to town, he walked along, and a man spoke to him,” would sound extremely awkward, though it might be intel- ligible, if we said, “John went to town, John walked along, and a man spoke to John.” Here the words he and him stand for John. “I met a little cottage girl, She was eight years old, she said, Her hair was close, with many a curl That clustered round her head.” Here she and her stand for “girl”; I stands for the name of the poet, unexpressed; that stands for “curl.” “Give me the book ov/hich lies there. Who has taken it 2 Have you seen this 2 ” In these sentences me stands for the speaker, mºhich for book, myho for an unknown in question, you for the person addressed, this for another book or article presumably pointed out. All these instances point to several different sorts of pronouns. We have five classes of pronouns:— 1. Personal. 4. Demonstrative. 2. Relative. 5. Indefinite. 3. Interrogative. § 71. (1) Personal Pronouns stand for the names of persons, in three orders:— The First Person denotes the speaker or Speakers, I, me. ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 331 The Second Person denotes the person or persons addressed,—thou, ye, you. The Third Person marks the person or thing Spoken of, he, she, it, they, one. The first and second, as well as he and she, are used for persons only; it and they are used for things as well as persons. One is indefinite, —“one does not like one's self to be cheated.” This sentence gives an example of how, by the addition of the word self (which means same), the Reflecive pronoun is formed ; the idea is cast back (reflected) on the pronoun which is thus emphasised. All the personal pronouns can thus be made reflexive by the addition of the word self, not to the simple forms given here, but to one of the inflexions of each. (These will be shown in § 161.) § 72. (2) The Relative Pronoun relates or carries back the mind to some noun or pronoun that has been already mentioned ; that noun or pronoun is called the antecedent of the relative. In the sentence, “give me the book myhich liesthere,” which is the relative pronoun, standing for book, that is its antecedent. The relative pronouns are, who, used for persons only; myhich, for animals and things; that, used for persons and things; as, used occasion- ally after “such' and “same”; m:hat, used when there is no antecedent expressed. “He m'ho is good is great.” “The cat which lapped the milk that was set, licked the hand of the girl that owned her.” Which here stands for the animal; the first that stands for a thing, the second for a person. “Give me such apples as yours”; “I like the same as that.” In the first sentence apples is the antecedent to as ; in the second, same. This use of the relative as is not infrequent among the vulgar: a street boy will shout, “It was 'im as did it l " a washerwoman will demand “all them things as belongs to me.” It is a relic of the grammar of early English. “He that prigs mºhat isn't his'n.”; “All that is mine is thine,” are familiar examples of the use of mºhat and that as relative pronouns applied to things. § 73. (3) Interrogative Pronouns are used in asking questions. Of these there are only three: myho? which 2 and what? Who refers to persons, mºhat to things; which seems between the two, -it now refers to things, but formerly it could be used for persons also. “Our Father which art in heaven” shows us the old use of which as the relative pronoun for a person. In saying “Who goes there 7" we expect an answer implying a person, as “a friend,” “the watch.” The sentence “What do you want?” requires in reply the name of some thing or of Some action, as “a book,” or “I want you to do this.” Hence we see that the distinction between the interrogative pronouns and the relatives consists chiefly in this : both carry the mind to a noun; the relative refers to a noun that has gone before and is usually ev- pressed ; the interrogative refers to a noun that is to come and is not expressed. § 74. (4) The Demonstrative Pronouns are this, that (and their plurals these, those), same, So, such, yon or yonder. These words are used in pointing out definitely the noun spoken of ; they are carefully to be distinguished from the Same words used as adjectives; in the latter case the noun accompanies the nord, in the former it stands for it. He is also sometimes used as a demonstrative pronoun. The follow- ing sentences give some examples — “Messenger. Madam . . . so is Lord Talbot COIT) @. Countess. . . . What is this the man 7 Is this the scourge of France 2 Is this the Talbot so much feared abroad 7” —I. Henry VI., Act ii. Sc. 3. “Yon's the man” (= he is the man). “Tell me, what is the meaning of this 2 * “I should like the same as yours.” “You don't tell me so/” “It is he for whom I have done so.” “I would do the same for you.” The Demonstratives are more frequently used as adjectives than as pronouns (see $ 77). § 75. (5) Indefinite Pronouns. These are, one, none (not one), amy, Some, each, every, either, neither (not either), other, another, aught, naught, something, somebody, nothing, anything. The first ten of these may also be used as adjectives : none of them points out any noun with exactness. Four of them, it will be observed, have coalesced with the negative : mone, neither, naught, nothing (not anything). Nothing means the same as naught—“I know naught about it.” The modern adverb not is but a contraction of the old pronoun Daught, which meant ma mºhit (i.e., Dot a bit, no thing). The words each, every, either, neither, are sometimes called distributives ; they separate the represented noun into parts in the mind: “Either will do, but I require neither,”—as much as to say, “One of the two will do, but I do not require one or the other.” “You are each of you to blame"—that is, each one indi- vidually is meant. Examples of how we use some of the others are (for some and other see the sentence just written)—“For books are as meats and viands are, some of good, some of evil substance ’’; “I have not one left 'º'; “I have no paper,-have you any ?” “None can be saved "; “There is one, here is another.” These words are on the border-line between adjectives and pronouns; to find out under which they should be classified, the logical use they perform in the sentence must be carefully considered. (See many of the same words as adjectives under § 79.) § 76. III. Adjectives.—The Adjective is a word used with a noun (or a pronoun) to dis- tinguish or point it out, or in some way to describe it ; as, “a blue flower”; “ heavy rain; ” “he is hot”; where a points out flower, blue describes it, heavy describes what sort of rain, hot describes the sensation of the noun represented by the pronoun he. There are three principal classes of adjec- tives:— 1. Demonstrative adjectives. 2. Adjectives of quality. 3. Adjectives of quantity. 332 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, § 77. In the story of “the man who bought a small house, and gave it to his coachman, saying, “My good friend, that window is broken, this brick wall is shaky, there are many locks out of order, every floor is rotten, two doors want paint, black beetles swarm, and you can get no water from the well,’” the landlord was unconscious that while he was describing so many infelicities, he was necessarily using examples of the different classes of adjectives. Taking those of class 1, the Demonstrative, or pointing-out ºvords, we find “the man,” “his coachman,” “my friend,” “that window,” “this wall,” “the well”; in each case the first word definitely shows the noun which follows. A, in “a house,” marks the noun which follows, but in a general manner, not definitely. A and the in many grammars are called the indefinite and the definite articles. They are, however, strictly adjectives, and it is a mistake to put them in a class by themselves. A or an is used to show that any one thing is spoken of: “an orange,” “an hour,” means any one Orange, any hour; SO also when an becomes a §. a consonant, as, “a table,” “a house,” any table, any one house is intended. An (Scotch ame) is only another form of one, which is a numeral adjective. The idea in a and one are the same. Compare our use of a, the relic of the numeral one, with the Chinaman’s “pidgin'” English—“how one deer lun [ruinſ by,” “Suppose one man much bad—how bad he be, One nother bad man may be flaid [afraid] of he.” —C. G. Leland. The was in old English part of the word that ; it was used as a pronoun; then, like all the demonstrative pronouns, it grew into fre- quent use as an adjective for distinguishing the noun, and finally has remained in that capacity. We cannot now use the as a pronoun ; it is simply a demonstrative adjective, a word put to a noun to show it forth ; “the man” means that we speak of some particular man. His and my are each a form of a pronoun, the possessive case of the personal pronouns he and I, used as demonstrative adjectives. The possessive cases of all the personal pronouns are used in this way, as demonstrative adjec- tives: thy house, her dog, our table, your lamp, their book; each contains a double sense, one referring backwards to the person for whom the pronoun stands, the other forwards, denoting the object belonging to that person. None of the pronouns in the possessive form can stand by itself. We cannot say “that dog is her,” “the book is my,” “the lamp is our.” We can, it is true, say “the book is his,” but this is because the old ending of another form of this pronoun has dropped off, and left it in the same shape as the possessive. § 78. A word which tells nihat sort of a noun is spoken of, or what its condition, is an adjec- tive of quality, as “a grey cat,” “large house.” “Good friend,” “ brick wall,” “broken,” “shaky,” “rotten,” “black beetles,” from the above example, range themselves under this class: the wall is of brick, and it is shaky ; it has rotten floors, etc. It must be noticed that a noun can sometimes do duty for an adjective: “brick’’ is the name of a thing, but when put before wall it shows what sort of wall it is, and thus becomes an adjective. The parti- ciples of verbs also are often employed as adjectives; of this kind are “broken º’ and “Totten.” (See under § 85.) A BREVE–(a mote seldom used). § 79. Under adjectives of quantity are in- cluded those words which tell us— (1) How many; as one, two, three, four, fifty, hundred, etc., called numeral adjectives. Numeral adjectives are of two kinds: cardinal, as four, five, six, etc., and ordinal, as first, second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. Except the two first, the ordinal are all formed upon the cardinal adjectives. (2) An indefinite notion of number or quan- tity; as all, many, ferv, other, another, several, certain, divers, nuch, little, some, any, no (meaning not any). (3) The four distributive adjectives, which divide or point out objects individually : each, every, either, neither. Each boy, every boy, point out in differing manners the separate boys in a number of them. - Recurring now to our first example, we find the three divisions of this class illustrated by “two doors,” “man” locks,” “every floor,” “no water.” THE STAFF NOTATION.—TIME. HITHERTO we have only used one kind of note in writing the staff notation—black, with a line or tail attached to it. A - re º e Notes. variety of notes is used, each in- & dicating the time it occupies in relation to those around it. The following is a list :- #2: A SEMIBREVE—half as long as the &2 Breve. A MINIM—half as long as the Semi- t p Or brewe. c | A CROTCHET-half as long as the | ©. Minim. a * | A QUAVER—half as long as the N. e. Crotchet. tº OT We A SEMIQUAVER—half as long as N, 2 the Quaver. c" or : A DEMISEMIQUAVER—half as long s , , 2 as the Semiquaver. es OI 2 A dot placed at the right side of a mote-head lengthens the note by half; two dots so placed lengthen, it by three-quarters. Read and sing this exercise — 5:#F###### EHEE:#E Taking a crotchet as the standard of a pulse, write the following in the staff notation, Doh in the first space :— | d : — m.r :d.r m : -. f | s : — | s :-. 1 |s.f :r.m. |d : si | d : — || Each note has a corresponding rest, which Time marks, marks a silence as long as the sound Rests. of the note. These are the notes, with their equivalent rests above them — MUSIC. 333 H-H ========E==E==#| EPE2– tº-Hº-Hº-E-F- | | Lie- © º, a 3 i In the last two cases we have a dotted rest, which possesses the same value as a dotted note. Notice that the semibreve rest is used in a general way for a whole measure silence, whether there be more or less than a semibreve in the measure. Those who have difficulty in distinguishing between the rests may bear in mind the fol- lowing mnemonics: As a heavy piece of wood floats with only its top just level with the surface of the water, so the longer semibreve rest hangs underneath the line ; while, as a light piece of wood floats buoyantly upon the surface, so the shorter minim rest stands upon the line. To remember which way the crotchet and quaver rests turn, bear in mind that “c,” the first letter of the word crotchet, like its rest, faces to the right ; and “q,” the first letter of the word quaver, like its rest, faces to the left. Write the following in the staff notation, using a quaver instead of a crotchet to represent a pulse. Doh, on the second line :— Mnemonics. Fxercise, |--|- a :r |-- :r d :— : } {*--it a :f S – * -- {*--it a :t. * – :S | S :— º — :d d : {* : :d | Si :ll *| – *sm- * | The slur is a curved line (~) which unites two or more riotes that are to be sung to one Syllable of the words. It is also The Slur, used in instrumental, and some- times in vocal music, to denote that the style of performance is to be smooth and unbroken. When two or more quavers or semiquavers are to be sung to one syllable, it is the custom to join them together, as in the following example:— () ºr A † Pi— º s—r 2- Ul ########| Tº I- Hur - rah, hur-rah for Eng - land. When the tails are thus joined there is no need for a slur, unless there are some minims or Crotchets in the same group, which of course have no tails to be joined. Write the following in the staff motation, each pulse a crotchet ; Doll in the first space:– - {*** d : | *..f. | m-11a. | s : Exercise, {* f.,f manan S. Iſl: | :— | dº : As all the divisions of notes in the staff nota- tion are by twos and fours, there is no direct Triplets, or denoted by the figure 3 bein - thirds, . placed over three notes, which would otherwise be halves. Example:— symbol for triplets. They are #F#-F#-F# J *—H-2–E Translate the above into the Tonic Sol-fa notation. Time signatures show the kind of measure— in other words, the arrangement of the accents. As the staff notation only marks the beginning of each measure, it is necessary to indicate how the internal accents fall, and how many beats or pulses each measure (or bar) contains. The time signatures consist, for the most part, of two arabic numerals placed one above the other on the staff, at the beginning of each piece of music. The following are the commonly used time signatures:— –2–3–4–HºHº-H-4H-3–EA-EAP– The key to these is this. The upper figure Time signatures, ; & Pºlkºff º i | |ſiſ tº ej)\SYNY. N ź º | º § Y: º § # | AN ORGAN OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. shows how many pulses there are in the measure, and the lower indicates the note which represents a pulse. In this scale of pulse-notes:— 1 (rarely used) stands for a semibreve. 2 stands for a minim. 4 stands for a crotchet. 8 stands for a quaver. Thus the signature # means “three crotchets to a measure”; ; means six quavers ; ; means three minims. The two last, which are among the most common signatures, denote two va- rieties of “common time,” for which the letter c stands. The first sort is four-pulse, four crotchets to the measure, and might be (and rarely is) written #. The second sort, with a line through the c, is called “alla breve” time, and denotes that there are but two accents in , the measure, and generally that the music is intended to be sung quickly. 334 THE UAVY VERSAL INSTRUCTO AE8. In the Tonic Sol-fa notation a pulse is always recognized as the distance from One accent is a & mark to the next. But it should nº * be noticed that in the staff nota- * tion different units are employed for a pulse. A piece of music in four-pulse measure may be written, according to the taste of the composer, and to his idea of its character, in four crotchets to the measure, four quavers, or four minims: a piece in three-pulse measure may similarly be written in #, #, or § time. The general rule is that minims are sedate and slow in appearance, and suit sacred music ; while crotchets, and especially quavers, look giddy, and suggest dance music. Hymn-tunes are commonly written in # or # time ; but recent compilers and composers have adopted the crotchet as the pulse-note, and write the tunes in # or # time. In some tune-books, to save space, the time signature is omitted al- together. The time can then only be seen by looking at a measure. Find by examination of one or more mea- sº tº t Exercise, º the time signatures of the following :- (b. FFFFFFFFFFH ===HEEEEEEEE b. FEEF3 H-e-fº-º-º-e-H2−–H ========E========H C. —º I- T-T—E-IT- H -HEPE=#E ==E-3-2-EPEzzjºfº =E===H d. C. W. LEVY. !, f. SIR. J. BENEDICT. —l-º-2 | {__ sº I –ºf–tº–62–a–Lºs-º-T- H ######### (7. EEEEEEEE § { —l —ºy– ——---|- ===z-Hºº-º-º-º- Ez. f h. ====#=== === === |- | | i 7. MENDELSSOHN. * I j j. VINCENT WALLACE. Aſºº 3 l 3 | | +-I-- *-º-º- #==zº ===#EE:#####| T { -aſ- Urºw #. Hºº-º-º-E- ==Eº–CE *He | —l | gº ** 24— After writing down the time signatures of the above, translate them into Tonic Sol-fa nota- tion. Besides the common time signatures already noticed are two others, which in Tonic Sol-fu. we call twelve-pulse and nine- pulse measure. The first may be regarded as four-pulse measure with an abundance of triplets; Twelve-pulse and nine-pulse Jºë3, Sllºes, e and the second as three-pulse measure of the 1– Same kind. Evidently we can express a passage —º-—-6-> { ==Try-º-p--|--|| | Same * “l, e a ====s+z====#E 2-Hº- in either of these two ways. Subjoined are L–2–1. U —il examples of g and sº time — –0– 2-s-s ========FºE*EEEEEEEE|| Cl– * r —[-. tº- U. ſº-iºn—— × *: | sºme - |--|-lº- – i ſº-N-te- T H.-E.---—H. E==8–e-FEº-Lº-a=s=HEEEEEEE t º º º © gº º Shoning the accents. A Tonic Solfaist will soon perceive the meaning of the way in which Accents the staff notation is written so as ' to show the internal accents of a measure. For example, if we wish in six- eight time (six-pulse measure) to write this note, with its prolongation :- | d :— :— the student might reason thus: “The note is six quavers long ; a minim is equal to four quavers: I will dot it, and it will equal six *" He might then write the note US — - | — :— — . But this would be wrong, because it would not show the accent in the middle of the measure. The correct way of writing the note is this:— _--> Tºo I ºl II IU) —ſ i | Hº-º-º-º-EH The tie or slur shows that no second note is to be struck, but only the first prolonged, and the Second crotchet shows the duple accent, AWCIENT HISTORY., 335 The following passage further illustrates this point. Compare the pulses, as shown in the Tonic Sol-fa version, with the arrangement of the accents in the staff notation — O sº * -62 a £2 g _-> *— * Ç & IS s fº 1— l- g ſ 2 5 s 2. 5 tº [. t; arz « » & be Sº H |- Yº º R i. l l t— | [ | { I ; #. -A f T-ſ-TE {T} t | TTT T. [ T H l H NSZTEE I | D-I-P---—i-- s | r Iſſ J S-' ; : m! :r) : dº | –:r im! s'.f. im'.r.l.m.f. s':– : f' m’:—:— — —:— | _HISTORY... - ŠºšŠ Fº: † ºs---> ASSYRIAN CONQUESTS. THE great king Shalmaneser was succeeded by his son Samsi-vul IV. (or Samas-Rimmon, as he is sometimes named), who had, by his energy and warlike qualities, put down the formidable insurrection headed by his brother Assur-dain- pal, and reconquered the twenty-seven great cities which had taken part with Assur and proclaimed him king. The earlier years of the reign of Samsi-vul were occupied in restoring the old limits of the empire, which had been encroached on in the troubles and disaffections which marked the end of the previous reign. He made himself master of revolted provinces on the north and north-east, fixing the Assyrian frontier near the Hittite city of Karchemish, and restored the southern border. His general, Mutariz-assur, a stern and un- yielding warrior, marched as far north as Lake Van, devastating the country, Yº: taking possession of or destroying expeditions, five hundred villages and a num- ber of forts, levying tribute, and bringing back droves of horses, a fine breed of which abounded in the district. The king himself shortly afterwards led an expedition in the same direction, and extorted tribute (con- sisting chiefly of horses)from severalofthechiefs or petty kings, whose territories he had invaded. He destroyed several hundred villages, the in- habitants flying to the mountains for refuge. The victorious march of the conqueror was con- tinued, and the countries on the north and east were over-run and subdued by his armies. Uras, the chief city of Gizilbunda, was stormed, and five thousand of the defenders and inhabi- tants massacred. Another small kingdom, for on the northern and eastern frontier of Assyria were many small states, independent when unmolested by stronger neighbours, Zibara, was attacked, and tribute enforced; and Media was invaded. The people of the less protected, outlying towns and villages fled. One leader, Hanaziruka, who made a stand, was defeated, with the loss of two thousand three hundred men, and nearly a hundred and fifty chariots; the royal city, Sakbita, was captured and sacked, and more than a thousand villages were destroyed or made desolate. No force that could be gathered was of avail to resist the indomitable Samsi-Vu" and his hardy and disciplined army. King Munirzuarta, of Arazias, with more than a thousand of his bravest warriors, was slain. and a host of petty chieftains of Assyrian and Samarian tribes offered submission and saved the lives of themselves and people by paying tribute. Absolute master, not only of the restored provinces of the old Assyrian empire, but of various petty kingdoms adjoining the frontiers, and now added to his dominions, Samsi-Vul deter- mined to invade Babylonia, the pretext being the alleged necessity of establishing what might perhaps be described as a “scientific frontier” between the rival kingdoms. The river now known as the Lower Zab, had been regarded from the time of the first political separation as the geographical line of demarcation ; but the Assyrian king now determined to advance be- yond it. Probably he could have offered many reasons, political and otherwise, for this resolve, but the most influential motive appears to have been that he had recently obtained great vic- tories by which his territories were considerably enlarged, that he had accumulated much trea- sure and organized a large and powerful army. and that, as in the case of many other military kings in all ages of the world, the appetite for conquest “increased by what it fed on,” till it developed into a desire for universal dominion. Between Assyria and Babylonia there was a historic rivalry; and Babylonia, weakened by dynastic quarrels and internal dissensions, ap- peared to be now in an unfit condition to offer much resistance to the Assyrian arms. In 820 B.C., Samsi-vul and his armies crossed the Zab, taking possession of the small cities on the Babylonian side of the river, sending the inhabitants as captives to Assyria, and reached the river Turmat (the modern Adhem). A strongly-fortified city, Dur-abisa, was stormed and captured, and the road to the very heart of Babylonia appeared to be open to the invader. At least two hundred small towns beyond thc: Turnat were taken, hundreds of villages were destroyed, the crops ravaged, the male in- habitants slaughtered, and the women and children made captives. Some of the people escaped the massacre, and fled to a fortified city, Kiribti-alani, for refuge; but the fierce Assyrians followed on the track, stormed the city, and another slaughter followed. Some who had fled from the place on the approach of the enemy reached another strong place, Dur-papsukul (or Dir-ahisu), an island fortress, almost impregnable against Ordinary means of attack: the inscriptions and the bas-reliefs tell Invasion of Babylonia, 336 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. us how the Assyrians crossed the stream, stormed the city, and put to the sword the garrison and refugees. Then they devastated the surrounding country, destroying nearly five hundred villages, killing three thousand people, and carrying away as captives nearly as many as they killed. The Babylonian king at that time was Maruduk-baladsu-ikbi. Maruduk (the “bril- é º º liance of the Sun”), or Merodach, Patriºre as it appears in the Biblenarrative, Baiºns. was one of the names or titles of Bel, the Babylonian divinity, and implied the younger Bel, and frequently formed an addition to the royal name. The king, who had just succeeded to the throne, exerted him- self strenuously to resist the Onward march of the Assyrian king, and collected a large force, including mercenary troops from Chaldea, Elam, and other adjacent kingdoms and semi-inde- pendent states. The Babylonian army took driven from their homes, left to starve in the mountain recesses where they had taken refuge; the crops were destroyed, thousands of Warriors slain, and troops of captives, old and young, women with infants at their breasts, Were driven like herds of cattle into Assyria, as Slaves to the proud monarch and his generals and nobility. Four other expeditions into Babylonia were led by Samsi-vul, in 816, 815,814, and 813 B.C. The sacred city Deri was cap- tured ; other cities submitted to the conqueror, and in 812 B.C. Babylon itself was taken. Farther conquest Was for the time apparently suspended by the death of Samsi-vul; but before his death he had established the new frontier, and annexed to the Assyrian empire the rich provinces lying between the Zab and the Turnat. He had reigned thirteen years, and was succeeded by his young son, Wul-nirari III, so named on The new rontier. ..:- &=º šš § ~ ŠSº - sº-S *. |: º tº ºr zºº sº Žº jº % º M. Z." 'ºff Z/ºl'ſhº!'; TEIE PLAINS OF BARYLON". up a position at Ahadaba, near Dur-papsukul, and awaited the attack of Samsi-vul. A fierce battle ensued, apparently hotly contested on each side; the result being a great victory for the Assyrians. Five thousand of the Baby- lonians were slain, and more than ten thousand made prisoners; chariots, baggage-waggons, and even the tent of Maruduk, with all its luxurious appurtenances, falling into the hand of the conqueror. We have no record of the immediate results of this victory. Probably the Assyrian king was satisfied with the defeats he had inflicted, and the devastation of a fertile and well-peo- pled district. The blow so vigorously dealt must have been bitterly felt by the Babylonians. The number of cities named, and the hundreds of villages, prove that there must have been a numerous and thriving population in the dis- tricts between the Zab and the Turnat ; and beyond the last-named river, the people were the monuments, but known in other histories as Rimmon-nirari. The new king inherited the warlike qualities and the ambition of his race. He reigned twenty-nine years; and after the first two years there is a record for every year of some mili- tary expedition. He invaded Medea, devas- tated the country near Lake Urumeya, pene- trated into Syria, reaching Arpal, the city or district connected with Damascus, and in the Seventh year of his reign his armies stood on the shores of the Mediterranean. Mariha, the king of Damascus, could offer but a feeble resistance; and when the young Assyrian conqueror ap- proached the city, he made Submission, and paid tribute. The minor states of Syria were not long in following the example ; and Vulnirari was supreme from the Euphrates to the “Great Sea.” Turning his arms eastward, the petty kings of Chaldea were subdued, and Babylonia virtually converted into a province of Assyria. PEI WSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 337 Sºº - ~ * : * ~ * * : * ~ * * * * *.d.º.º.º. Tº Sss - sº º y § - Tº - FSNºº "" ; ãSNºgº &# Nºgºsº/ º/AºNºPHYSICAL GE06 tºº º . . . . & - * * * * *º- º X. WOLCANIC FORCES. IN order to arrive at a knowledge of the causes which have produced the variations in the surface of the earth, it will be necessary to examine the nature of volcanic and glacial action, the former being the principal cause of the upheavals and depressions; the latter of various phenomena which present themselves to the notice of the student of physical geo- graphy. We have already referred to the formation of volcanic islands due to abrupt upheavals of the bed of the ocean; and the operation of a similar force on parts of the earth's surface above the sea-level has produced the mountain ridges and peaks which are such conspicuous features of conti- nental masses. Every elevation of the surface of the earth is not neces- Sarily an active volcano, for the outer crust of the earth may be rent and broken, pro- ducing irregular up- heavals and ridges extending thou- Sands of miles from the volcano, which is in some cases the nucleus of a sur- rounéling, in others the cause of a lateral, disruption. Certain laws of operation are recognized by physical geogra- phers; and Mr. Keith Johnston, in the descriptive matter accom- panying his magnificent “Atlas of Physical Geography,” thus lucidly explains them: — “Ist. When the upheaving force is limited to a small area, its intensity diminishing according to distance from that point, the upheaval will necessarily be confined to a limited circular region, the fissures [of the earth's crust] being along radii from the central point, or there may exist separately or con- jointly with the former another system dividing the distended soil into concentric rings. The volcanic region of central France affords a remarkable example of this, and it has affected most abundantly the existing surface of the earth. 2nd. The upheaving force, instead of being confined within a small district, may be diffused beneath a large tract or zone, and such Zone must be stretched, or subjected to tensions which incline to tear or split it, and these ten- sions must reach their maximaintwo directions, WOL. I. Voloanio action, Laws of operation, WOLCAN O OF JORULLO, one set inducing the zone to split in the direc- sion of its length, and another acting at Tight angles to them, and tending to produce fissures along the Zone's breadth. This accounts for the transverse valleys of mountain chains, and for mineral veins being generally in two systems at right angles to each other.” The origin of transverse valleys, as explained above, is illustrated by “the valleys of disloca- tion” described by geologists. The oppositesides of valleys of this character exhibit not only a continuation of the same strata, but salient points and hollows, so exactly corresponding as to proclaim their formation by the breakage of the general mass during its upheaval. Various theories have been offered in expla- nation of volcanic phenomena. Sir Humphrey Davy propounded a theory which he afterwards abandoned, but which has since been advocated by Professor Daubeney and some others. They suggest that there are in the interior of the earth vast quantities of silicon and the metallic bases of the earths and alkalies known to chemical science ; and when brought into contact with air or water oxidiza- tion ensues, a great amount of heat is generated, and gaseous compounds are liberated, which, with aqueous va- pours, rendthe crust of the earth, pro- ducing the effects. known as volcanic phenomena. This theory is now gene- Tally rejected by geologists and geo- graphers. Bischof, the German physi- cist, author of “Che- mical and Physical Geology,” assuming that the interior of the earth consists of a highly heated and fused mass, considered that the mechanical action of water Con- verted into steam by the great heat would produce volcanic action,-that in fact, to ex- press the suggestion in familiar language, Vol- canic eruptions are simply explosions produced by steam, an explanation inconsistent with observed phenomena. The most probable explanation is, that be- neath the comparatively thin crust of the earth (even if the whole interior Liquid strata is not in a state of fusion) there **** are liquid strata of mineral matters in a state of igneous fusion, and that by movements in the earth's crust (to which we shall hereafter refer), portions of the strata are allowed to escape, while sea-water is admitted and gives rise to gaseous products. The origin of this mineral strata is supposed to be the softening and melting by internal heat of portions of the solid crust, and this it is considered explains the chemical phenomena observed in the erupted 22 Origin of | volcanic action, 338 TRIſ) UAVI VTEIR.S.I.L. I.W.S118 (/ CTO AE. -- rocks. The heat necessary to produce the re- sult is either that transmitted from the earth's interior, or mechanically evolved by the crush- ing of the deeply buried strata during the con- traction of the earth's crust, motion being converted into heat by the operation of a well-known physical law. In confirmation of this, it has been observed, says an able writer on the subject, “that the great volcanic regions of modern times, wherever circumstances per- mit us to determine their geological relations, appear to be those in , which have occurred both great deposition of sediments, burying to considerable depths the older rocks, and great movements of the earth's crust in comparatively recent geological periods.” The term earthquake is applied to a shaking or trembling of the outer surface or Solid crust of the globe. It is asserted with *arthquakes confidence that the surface of the earth is at no time free from these tremblings, frequently so slight as to be scarcely noticeable, at other times so extensive and terrific as to pro- duce the most appalling catastrophes. Records of more than 7,000 earthquakes, so disastrous as to induce special remembrance, which have occurred between the remotest period known to history and the present time, have been preserved. That earthquake phenomena are connected with volcanic action can scarcely be doubted, The result of observations care- *::: *fully made and extending over a * long period of time show that great volcanic eruptions are almost invariably accompanied by shocks of earthquake; but it is also an ascertained fact that some of the most terrible earthquakes recorded in history bave not occurred in volcanic regions. The movements of the ground during an earthquake are vibrations either tremulous, vertical, hori- zontal, or rotatory. Sometimes these vibra- tions follow each other rapidly ; sometimes they occur singly ; and in other cases they ap- pear to take place simultaneously. No previous intimation is given of the approach of the shock—which is thus made more terrible from its suddenness. In Chili and adjacent parts of South America slight tremblings of the surface of the earth are of almost daily occurrence, and attract very little attention. The vertical movement is similar to that produced by the explosion of a mine—the surface being broken up, and human beings and animals, rocky amasses and other matters on the surface, being shot perpendicularly into the air. Great earth- quakes are marked by horizontal movements, propagated in undulations, like waves upon water, and estimated to travel at the rate of nearly thirty miles in a minute. Rotatory movements have been observed, but are unfre- quent. When they take place walls are twisted round without being prostrated, and parallel rows of trees and ridges in fields are deflected, The direction of the shocks is either finear or in circles and ellipses, gradually decreasing in intensity with the distance from the central or focal points. The shocks are accompanied by great noises, in some cases like the rumbling of Earthquake sounds, distant thunder, in others loud detonations like the discharge of cannon ; the most re- markable sounds being described as resembling the clanking of chains, as if huge masses of mineral or vitrified matter were struck in caverns underground. Regarding these sounds, a suggestion has been made :-" Sometimes at stations very remote, where no shock whatever has been perceived, the sounds of explosion have been heard the same instant as at the sites of catastrophe. As sound requires a definite time to be transmitted through the air, it could not in these cases have been propa- gated by that medium. Solid bodies are much better conductors of sound, baked clay trans- smitting it with ten or twelve times the velocity of the open air ; yet the Supposition of the Sonorous waves being conducted by the surface of the earth is untenable, because time is stil demanded for the transport. It is likely, in such instances, that the Sounds originated at such an immense depth below the surface as to be nearly equidistant from all the places where they were observed.” Careful observations, how- ever, made after the great Neapolitan earth- quake of 1857, pointed to the conclusion that the “seismic centre'' (Gr. oeuguós, earthquake), or focal depth of the convulsion, was only about six miles below the surface ; and similar calcu- lations respecting an earthquake in India in 1857 gave a depth of about thirty miles, which there is reason to Suppose is the maximum. That these great convulsions are similar in their origin to volcanic phenomena is, as we have said, almost certain ; but the cause of the peculiar agitations Cause of of the surfacé of the earth pre- earthquakes. sents a problem , which is not easily solved, although various theories have been propounded. The “steam explosion ” theory has been inge- niously advocated. Mr. Mallet, noticing the fact we referred to, that volcanic eruptions are commonly followed by shocks of earthquake, and assuming that the lines or centres of volcanic action are generally near the sea, supposes that fissures may be formed in the bed of the ocean by submarine eruptions, that water flows in, reaching the central fire, and that, arriving there, it assumes the spheroidal form, until the surface with which it is in contact is cooled, when an explosion takes place, an earthquake being the result. . A more satisfactory explanation has been given by the late Professor H. D. Rogers and his brother, who gave great atten- tion to the subject ; they express a very strong opinion that a great “pulsation” of the molten fluid mass in the centre of the earth takes F. and is carried forward in the shape of uge waves, bearing along, or floating, as it were, the rocky crust of the earth above. We shall be able to show further on that the struc- ture of certain mountain ranges remarkably confirms this theory. The prodigious force exerted in these sub- terranean convulsions may be partially ap- preciated by a reference to some of the more remarkable results . Force of. which have been observed. The volcanic *tion. shock of the earthquake which produced such terrible results at Lisbon in 1755 was felt with PIM YSI C.I.L. G. I./06 M&APL. I. 339 Amore or less intensity over an area of 7,500,000 Square miles; it extended to Finland, in the north of Europe, and some of the West India islands, and produced agitation of the waves of Lake Ontario, in North America. The velocity with which the shock travelled was computed to have been about twenty miles a minute, or 1,760 feet a second, or nearly half as fast again as the average velocity of sound ; and the sea rose into a wave sixty feet high, which broke upon the shore. An earthquake at Guadaloupe, in 1842, was felt from the mouths of the Amazon, in South America, to the coast of South Carolina, North America, a distance of 3,000 miles, and over a breadth of 70 miles. In 1692 Port Royal, Jamaica, was destroyed, and “houses engulfed forty fathoms deep.” In {693 an earthquake in Sicily destroyed 54 towns and 300 villages, more than 100,000 lives being lost. In 1797 the whole country between Santa Fé and Panama, Central Ame- rica, Suffered from an appalling convulsion : “40,000 people were buried in one second.” In September, 1759, on the lofty table-land about 150 miles south-west of the city of Mexico, an area of four square miles was sud- denly raised about 550 feet, and numerous cones appeared, one of which, the volcano of Jorullo, is nearly 1700 feet high. A contrary effect was produced in Java in 1772, when a lofty mountain entirely disappeared, the area sunk being fifteen miles long and six miles broad. A great earth- quake in Chili in 1822 produced a permanent ele- vation of from two to seven feet of quite 100,000 square miles of land between the Andes and the coast; and distinct traces of lines of Sea-beaches at higher levels farther inland indicate previous liftings-up of the same region at different times along the same lines. These are but a few in- stances of the stupendous force exerted, out of many hundreds which might be quoted ; and it is estimated that at least 13,000,000 human beings have perished from earthquakes. The action of volcanoes is of an equally stupendous character. Vesuvius, in Italy, has thrown out at one eruption more than 46,000,000 cubic feet of lava and other matter in a state of fusion, including more than eighty kinds of minerals. In the great eruption of 1669, by which many thousands of lives were lost, streams of lava rolled over the district in the vicinity of the mountain for forty days, and it was estimated, on good data, that 94,000,000 ºubic feet of matter were discharged. In 1783 the Icelandic volcanoes sent out a stream of java which, after a direct flow of fifty miles, divided into two streams, one fifty miles long and fifteen miles wide, the other forty miles long and seven miles wide, the depth on the aver- age being over 100 feet, but in defiles at least (300 feet. It is calculated that the mass So dis- Porce of vol- canic eruptions. charged weighed about forty thousand millions. of tons, and in bulk was about equal to a pyramid twelve feet high with a base of forty square miles. In other words, a mass of matter equal in size to the Peak of Teneriffe, and nearly equal to Mont Blanc, the largest of the Alpine mountains, was hurled with stupendous force from the interior of the earth. The lava | 1 ejected in the great eruption of Etna, above referred to, had not cooled down and become perfectly solid ten years afterwards ; and the lava ejected by an eruption of Jorullo, in Mexico, was—wonderful and indeed almost incredible as it may appear—found to be hot and smoking sixty-eight years afterwards. Vesuvius has been known to throw out boiling water; and from volcanoes in South America large quantities of dead fish have been ejected, thus confirming the theory that the sea has found its way through fissures to the centre of volcanic disturbance. Ashes thrown out by volcanoes have fallen 700 miles from the place of ejection. The overwhelming of the Italian . towns, Pompeii and H(erculaneum, by ashes discharged from Vesuvius, are memorable his- torical incidents. The perpendicular height of a column of molten matter and ashes thrown out by the same mountain has been estimated by a scientific observer at 10,000 feet ; and in the continuous eruption of Hecla, in Iceland, in 1845-6, three new craters were formed, from which columns of fire 14,000 feet high (nearly the elevation of Mont Blanc above the sea level) were thrown up. A calculation based on the quantity of matter known to have been ejected by vol- canoes affirms that it is sufficient, if spread equally over the surface of the globe, to aug- ment its diameter by about three-quarters of a yard; in other words, the entire superficies of the globe—about 196% millions of Square miles—would be covered to the depth of nearly fourteen inches. But the products ejected leave corresponding cavities in the interior, the roofs of which are liable to give way beneath the weight of the accumulation on the surface, and subsidences are the result. & Rono gº THE POSITIONS OF DIFFERENT OBJECTS IN THE HEAVENS.–THE TRANSIT INSTRUMENT. IT will be well before proceeding further to ascertain how astronomers are accustomed to point out the positions of the different objects in the heavens; so that by saying a star or planet is in Right Ascension so-and-so, and Declination so many degrees, or else in such and such longi- tude and latitude, its place in the heavens is at once fixed. Suppose the heavens represented by a large globe, and that we are placed at the north pole of this globe, at P, fig. 36, so that the figure repre- sents the northern hemisphere of the heavens, with the equator at the circumference. From geometry we know that any circle dividing the surface of a sphere into two equal halves is called a great circle, and both the equator and ecliptic are great circles of the ps e heavenly sphere. Suppose the Riº * equator divided into 24 equal *** divisions, as shown in the figure, so that each 340 THE UNIVERSAI, INSTRUCTOR * a stronomers count division will contain 15° of the 360° in the entire circumference. Then astronomers call each of these divisions one hour of right ascension, and divide this hour into minutes and Seconds just as if it were an hour of time. They call the great circles a Pa, b P b', hour circles, and each one serves to mark out the Space called one hour in the heavens, dividing the sphere into halves, and seen as straight lines. These hour circles are seen better as such in the second figure, which gives another view of , the heavenly sphere. The reason why these circles and di- visions are called hour circles and hours is their latitude and longitude, and in the earlier days of astronomy these were almost always used. The longitude of a star is merely its distance from the vernal equinox, measured along the ecliptic instead of along the equator like the right ascension. The latitude is its distance measured along a great circle perpen- dicular to the ecliptic, instead of being measured along a great circle perpendicular to the equator like the hour circles on which the declinations are mea- sured. The longitudes are not given in hours and minutes of time, like the right ascen- sion, but merely in degrees and minutes of very simple. It is be- cause it takes exactly one hour for the earth to rotate on its axis through that amount, so that if at any time the stars at hour 6 are seen on the meridian, at one hour later the stars at hour 7 will be on the meridian. Now these hours from the point E, where the equator is crossed by the ecliptic as it passes from the Southern to the northern hemisphere, and this point E they call the vernal or spring equinoa. Let S be a star, we see it is on the great circle or hour circle which is marked 3, or the 3rd hour circle; then astronomers say that the right ascension of this star S is 3 hours, or the star is in 3 hours of right as- cension. This by itself is not sufficient to tell us the place of the star, for though we know it is on the hour circle P b, it does not tell us whereabouts on that hour circle. Astronomers therefore call the dis- tance of the star from the equator the declination of the star, this decli- nation being given in degrees, minutes and seconds of Declination of the circum- a star, ference of the hour circle. In the figures the star is about 623° from the equator, and towards the north pole, so that its position is said to be 62%.” north declination. Sometimes instead of declination astronomers fix the posi- Equinox, pjº N tion of the star by saying its distance from the north pole ; thus they would say that the position of the star S was either 62%.” north declination, or 27%.” north polar distance. Astro- nomers sometimes fix the position of objects by FIG. 36. l & | FIG. al'C, Occasionally astro- nomers fix the position of a body by its altitude and azimuth—its alti- tude being the height of the body in degrees etc., above the horizon, and its azimuth its dis- tance from the meri- dian in degrees, etc.; the horizon being Sup- posed divided into de- grees, etc., like the circumference of a circle. Thus, if fig. 36 was a plan of the observer's heavens, with the zenith at P and the meri- dian at PE, each of the divisions would repre- sent 15° of azimauth, and the star S would be in azimuth 45°. The early astronomers determined the posi- tion of the stars and planets by means of instru- ments containing gra- duated circles, one fixed in the plane of the equator and the other revolving on an axis parallel to the axis of the earth. They thus re- sembled in principle the modern equatorial, an instrument which will be subsequently described. * The fixed circle showed the angular distance be- tween any two bodies measured on the equator, or their difference in 7°ight ascension, and the movable circle showed the distance of a body from the equator, or its 37. declination. It was very difficult to properly ad- to keep them adjusted. To determine the time, they made use of a quadrant, and after the invention of the telescope they fitted a telescope to this quadrant. The astro- nomical quadrants were generally constructed after the manner of fig. 38, where we see a quadrant or quarter of a circle of wood or iron just these instruments, and almost impossible ASTRONOMY. 341 strengthened by cross-bars, and fitted with a telescope, whilst its edge is graduated into por- º tions of a degree, and carrying a Astronomical vernier. These instruments were * usually from five to nine feet in radius, and were mounted on a pillar so as to be exactly perpendicular. They determined the time by observing the altitude of a star, and then by calculation finding out at what time the star would have the observed altitude. The invention of the astro- nomical clock enabled astro- nomers to much simplify found easy, however, to regulate the clock by the observation of the sun, or of stars whose right ascension was known. Thus when the right ascension of a bright star had been fixed by several hundred observations, the errors of the different clocks might be reasonably expec- ted to destroy each other, because if the clock were a little too fast on One day it would be a little too slow on another, and these would counterbalance one another, and the right ascension given by the mean of all the observations might be depended on their method of observation. Instead of mounting their quadrant on a pillar, they fixed it against a wall built due north and south, so that the quadrant was fixed in the plane of the meridian. They then observed the altitude of a star when it crossed the meri- dian, and noted the exact time when the star crossed the meridian—which would be shown by the moment it crossed a wire put in the centre of the field of view of the telescope. By sub- tracting the complement of the latitude of the observatory from the altitude they ob- tained the declination. Thus Greenwich was determined by Flamsteed to be in latitude 51°28' 10", and the complement of this angle is 38° 31' 50". Thus a star whose observed altitude was 61° 15' 20" would be in declination +22° 43' 30". Next, the difference in time between the passage of any two stars across the meridian is equal to the difference in right ascension between them. Thus, if a star whose right ascension was known to be 5 hours 7 minutes 21 seconds passed the meridian at 7 hours 11 minutes 28 seconds, and another star passed the meridian at 9 hours 25 minutes 51 seconds, the difference between these two (2 hours 14 minutes 23 seconds), added to the right as- cension of the first star, would be equal to 7 hours 21 minutes 44 seconds, which would be the right ascension of the second star. It was only necessary, therefore, to know the exact right ascension of a few bright stars to be able to find the right ascension of the others. By this method observations of the positions of the heavenly bodies were made very much easier, it being only necessary to have a good clock. To avoid errors due to imperfections in the clocks, many observatories had more than one—Delisle being provided with seven or eight —and the mean of all was taken. It was soon FIG. 38.—ASTRONOMICAL QUADRANT. FIG. 39.-TRANSIT INSTRUMENT. to be true with- .of in a second of, clocks by the time. Astrono.”. : Star mers could the meridian. c a 1 cu la te, therefore, the exact time when this bright star ought to cross the meridian. Say it was 7 hours 50 minutes 30 seconds ; then if they ob- served it to cross at 7 hours 50 minutes 45 seconds, they would know that their clock was 15 seconds fast. Occa- sionally they would correct the clock by observing the altitude of the sun or a star at Some fixed time by the clock—say 8 hours—and then calculating the time at which the Sun should have that altitude, and if this proved to be 7 hours 59 minutes 37 seconds they would know that their clock was 23 seconds slow. After a time they found this second method was much less exact than the first, and they abandoned it. They found subsequently that their large quadrants fixed to a wall, or mural quadrants as they were termed, gradually warped out of their proper position, and they also found it very difficult to ascer- tain whether they were roperly adjusted. #. things interfered much with the proper determination of the right ascension of stars, though they did not interfere much with the determination of the declination; for to de- termine the last it was not essential that the instrument should be exactly adjusted to the meridian. a' Roemer, a very dis- tinguished Danish as- tronomer, invented a new instrument to ob- viate these errors, and called it a Transit instru- ment. It was constructed after º d the method shown by fig. 39. It º of consists of a telescope mounted º: in a strong tube, consisting of e two conical ends, fastened to a cube in the centre, the cube being mounted on a long axis made in the shape of two cones to prevent its bending. The pivots at the end of this axis are – 342 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. supported on two metal bearings, firmly fixed on two stone pillars, and at one end it carries a graduated circle. The whole instrument is placed exactly on the meridian, and the axis made perfectly horizontal, so that as the tele- Scope turns on the pivots at the ends of the axis it will move in the great circle called the meridian. The eyepiece is fitted with a series of fine wires, as shown in fig. 40, consisting of five vertical and two horizontal wires, the central vertical wire being placed exactly in the place of the meridian, and the others at equal intervals on each side. When an obser- vation is made the astronomer moves the tele- Scope until the star appears to move into sight from the right hand, between the two horizontal wires, and he times exactly the moment it crosses each wire. Suppose it crosses the first wire at 7 hours 38 minutes 7 *** seconds, the next at 18 seconds, * the next or middle wire at 23 seconds, the next at 39 seconds, and the last at 49 seconds. Adding all these seconds together and dividing by 5, we get 282 seconds for _TTT's S LL. FIG. 40.--THE EYEPIECE of THE TRANSIT INSTRUMENT. the true time it crosses the central wire, or 7 hours 38 minutes 28-2 seconds for the time of transit. The reason of having the five wires is so that any slight uncertainty in the time the stars crossed a single wire may be removed by taking the mean of the time it crosses the five wires. Because if a little error in one direction be made at one wire, it is probable it will be counterbalanced by an error in the opposite direction at another wire. It was found much easier to adjust the transit instrument than the ponderous mural quadrants, and the right ascensions which were obtained by means of the transit instrument were found to be far more accurate. It was not long, there- fore, before the transit instrument came into general use, and the mural quadrant was con- fined to observing the declinations. Towards the end of the following century the quadrant or quarter of a circle was replaced by a complete circle. s The complete outfit of an observatory during the later part of the seventeenth and in the eighteenth century consisted of a mevable quadrant, a mural quadrant or circle, a transit instrument, one or more good clocks, and several telescopes. ičº: º §§§º: & sº-º §ºss Stº ºğ. º §§§ ( ; , § sº THE VERB ©ein (or Geyn), to be. LIKE 9abem, to have the verb ſein (also spelt ſegm), to be, has two characters. When it stands alone, without influencing another verb, it is an intransitive: 3d bin fſein, I am little. - ſich, bim, kline When it serves to form certain tenses of another verb, it is an auxiliary—as in Qu biſt getommen, doo bisst gé-kom'-men. thou art come. Here the verb ſein is used to form a tense of the verb fommen. (It should be remembered that as we can write ſein or ſegm, so also we can say ſet or ſet), feib or ſepb, where those parts of the verb occur.) Principal Parts of the Verb. Infin, mood. Ind. pres. Past (imperf.) Past part. ſein, to be, bin, am, may, was, genoeſen, been. zine bin vah” ge-vay'-zen It will be seen that these principal parts of the verb are quite irregular :— INT) ICATIVE MOOT), SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD. Present. Šd bin, I am. 3d) ſet, I (may) be. ich bin, ãch zy Øu biſt, thou art. 3)u ſeieft, thou (mayst) be. doo bisst doo zyst (ºr iſt, he is. (ºr ſet, he may be. aia'r isst air, zy §tr finb, we are. §§ir ſeten, we may be. vee?” zºnt veer, gy'-ºn $5t ſetb, ye are. $5r fetet, ye may be. €e?"r zite eerr zy'-et ©ie finb, they are. ©ie ſeien, they may be. zee zint zee zy’-en We have here put the indicative and sub- junctive side by side for comparison. The onay or that of the subjunctive is not always expressed. In gºtt ſeteſt, wir ſeien, ſte ſcien, the ſeieſt and ſeien are, except in poetry, con- tracted into ſeift and ſet. CŞd ſey, bit ſepſi, etc., is synonymous with td) ſet, bu #. Imperfect. Śd; it at Sdy moãre ich, vajºr ſich, vain'-re Øu marſt (vareſt) doovahrst (vahr'est) 3)u måreſt (bárff) doo vaia’-rest (ºr ſpar a (Śr moãre e?' vah?" § air” vair'-re * K/2 g re $ir hydren ... Sir mäten weer” vah'-ren. § vee,” vain'-º'en, $ffr mart (maret) cerſ' vahrt (vah'-ret) ©te moaten ©te myſtem zee vah'-ren zee wain'-'em *& There is a lengthened form of the Second person singular and plural, bareſt and maret, used chiefly in poetry. It should be noticed that the subjunctive, as with the verb 9aben, is Sºr moãret (mirf) eer vain'-ret ; GERMAN. 343 identical with the conditional ; so that id) wire means (That) I were, and also (That) I would be. Perfect. Šd ſei genoeſen ich zyge-way'-zen gou feiſt genoeſen doo zyst ge-vai'-zerº (ºr ſei genoeſem airr zyge-vaiſ-zen &ir feten genoeſen veerrºy'-enge-vaiſ-zen 3}r ſeiet genoeſen ee?'r zyet ge-vai'-zen 3d, bin genoeſen ich bin ge-vay'-zen Øu biſt genoeſen doo bisst ge-vai'-zen (ºr iſt genoeſen airr isst ge-vai'zen Sir finb genoeſen weerºr Zindge-vai'-zen $ffr ſeib genoeſen eer?" Zeit ge-vai'-zen ©ie finb genoeſen ©te ſeien genoeſen 2ée Zindge-vaiſ-zen zeezy'-enge-vai'-zen Notice that the verb ſegm is conjugated not with to have, but with itself: as we say in English I am come, and in French “Jesuis venu,” not “J'ai venu,” so in German we say I am been, instead of I have been. Pluperfect. 3d, moire genoeſen ich vai,'re ge-vay’-zen Øu måreſt (nośrſt) doo vair'rest [gemefen - }={ [ge-vai'-zen (ºr ſtar genoeſem E (ºr máre genoeſen airr vah” ge-vai -zeň º airr vair're ge-vai'-zen Sir maren genoeſen ă 3Sir mºrem gerbefen veerſ vah'-ren ge-vai'- # veer, vai,'ren ge-raiſ- [zen a g | $d moat genoeſen ich vah” ge-way'-zen Øu parſt genoeſen doo vah'st ge-vaiſ-zen [zen $5r mar(e)t genoeſen & $51 močret (märt) éé?” vahrt ge-vai'-zen eerr vair'-ret [gemefen [ge-vai'-zen ©ie paren genoeſen ©ie mérem genoeſen zee vah'-renge-vaiſ-zen Zee vah'-ren ge-vai'-zen Here again the verb ſein, and not jaben, is used as the auxiliary: Stſ) mar genoeſen, literally “I was been,” and 3d moire genoeſen, literally “I mere been.” IPutuº'e. INDICATIVE. Šd) merbe ſein, I shall be. 'ich vain")'-de zean 3)u myirſt ſein, thou wilt be. doo veerrst zine (ºr nyirb ſein, he will be. aft?” vee?”"t zine 9&ir merben ſein, we shall be. Qeen"r vain")'-den gine $%r merbet ſein, you will be, ee,” vain")'-det zine ©te merben ſein, they will be. zee vairr'-den zine SUBJUNCTIVE. $d) berbe ſein, (that) I shall be. ſich, vair?'-de zine 3)u myerbeſt ſein, thou wilt be, doo vair'-dest zine (ºr nyerbe ſein, he will be, etc. err vairm'-de zine [Plural like the Indicative.] The future of ſein, like that of all verbs, is made of id) ºperbe, etc., and the infinitive of the verb. Puture Perfect. INDICATIVE. 3d, moerbe gem eſen ſein, I shall have been. ich vairj'-dege-vaiſ-zen zine Øu mirſt gem eſen ſein, thou wilt have been. doo veerst ge-vaiſ-zen zine (ºr miro gen, eſen ſein, he will have been. air, veer'd ge-vaiſ-zen zine §§ir merben gem eſen ſein, we shall have veer, vair,”-den ge-vai'-zen zine [been. $5r merbet g empeſen ſein, you will have been. eer, vair'-det ge-vaiſ-zen zine ©ie wereen g empeſen ſein, they will have zee vairr'-den ge-vai'-zen zine [been SUBJUNCTIVE. 3d, terbe genoeſen ſein ich vairr'-dege-vai'-zen zine Øu merbeſt genoeſen ſein doo vai,'r’-dest ge-vai'-zen zine (ºr merbe genoeſen ſein err vair'-dege-vai'-zen zine [Plural like the Indicative.] Here we notice again that ſein is conjugated with itself, and not in any tense with baben— literally, “I shall be been,” not “have been.” FIRST CONDITIONAL. $d, witbe ſein, I should be. ich vºter?'-de zine Øu noſtrbeſt ſein, thou wouldst be. doo vuerr'-dest zine (śr pürbe ſein, he would be. air” vuerr'-de zine Ščir pārben ſein, we should be. veer)' wºerr'-den zine $5x toirbet ſein, you should be. ee,” overr'-det zine ©te tourben ſetm, they should be. zee vºte?'7'-den, zine SECON D CONDITIONAL. 3d) moiirbe genoeſen ſein, I should have been. ich vºterr'-dege-vaiſ-zen zine 3)u mirbeſt genoeſen ſein, doo vºterr'-dest ge-vai'-zen zine [have been. Çr mittee geºpeſen ſein, he would have airr vºwer,’-dege-rai'-zen zine [been $ir ſpirben genoeſen ſein, we should have teen'r vºte?',"den ge-vai'-zen zine [been $9r mitroet genoeſen ſein, you would have ecºr vicer)'-det ge-vaiſ-zen zine * [been ©ie piirben genoeſen ſein, they would have zee ww.er'-den ge-vaiſ-zen zine [been IMPERATIVE. ©eyn pit, let us be. zine veer ©cy (bu), be thou. CŞeyb (iffr), be (ye). zy (doo) zide eer” ©ey er, let him be. ©eyn ſte, let them be. zy air” zine zee Instead of ſewn pit and ſeyn ſte, the form 8afft umā ſegm and ſafft ſte ſegm is genérally used. thou wouldst Participles. Pres., . Pret. Čepemb, being. Öempeſett, been. zy’-end ge-vai'-zen THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. HISTORY MOD E R N T =sº THE REIGN OF CHARLES V. (concluded.) CHARLEs had received warnings from Several friends, but he had refused to credit them. At Innsbruck, whither he had gone to settle questions concerning the Council of Trent, the storm Sud- denly burst upon him, Three armies, commanded by Maurice and his new allies, suddenly appeared before Augsburg. Maurice published a manifesto, setting forth his intentions unmistakably; and the emperor, utterly bewildered and surprised, and suffering Im. O I € O W & I" from gout, was obliged to fly by night from Innsbruck across the Tyrol e s e mountains, t O avoid falling into the hands of MI a u r ic e. Ch a r les Sct free his pri- SOmer, the Elector John Fre derick; and to his brother Fer- dinand he ontrusted the task of nego- Charles's humiliation at Innsbruck, April, 1552, §§§s Sºssºs and strove in vain to regain Metz, occupied by a French army and bravely defended by the Duke of Guise. Germany had to pay for religious freedom with the loss of a valuable piece of territory. Meanwhile Albert of Brandenburg-Culmbach, a fierce wild parti- San, had refused to join in the Treaty of Passau, and began to ravage the Franconian lands, attacking the bishops of Bamberg and Würz- burg. Charles let him pursue his course un- hindered, and thus excited the suspicions of Maurice that Albert was to be employed against the princes of Germany. Accordingly he marched in all haste against Albert, whom he encountered at Sievershausen, where he obtained a complete victory over his savage opponent, but received a wound of which he died two days afterwards. At first the enemy of the Protestants in Germany, through ambition, he had lived just long enough to retrieve his honour and his fame by becoming the means of Se- curing to them honour- able recogni- tion and safety in Ger- many. He is described as in every way a remarkable - "...AN I_^ %) in NSº º • S man — “de- liberate and secret, reso- lute and en- ergetic, Saga- cious in fore- casting the future, and COnSum mate in execution of a project.” ciating with Albert was the victori- compelled to †. Maurice. ſº CD W3.S COll- -- * * 3.TD6T 2, UlDOC clude d the IN THE TYROL. he returned Treaty of Passau, which superseded the Interim, declared that the Council of Trent was not bind- ing upon the Protestants, for whom complete religious freedom was secured, the evangelical church being pronounced separate and indepen- dent; the Landgrave of Hesse was moreover to be liberated, and all past offences to be covered by an amnesty. And now the Elector John Frederick, who had done and suffered much for his faith and for conscience' sake, returned in triumph from his long captivity to Weimar. He survived his liberation two years, and to the last maintained the placid equanimity that had enabled him, through evil and through good report, to uphold the cause of religious liberty. Disappointed and discouraged, and despair. ing at length of attaining the purpose of his life, the emperor was now harassed by danger in º quarters—from the Frešćh and Perplexities of the Emperor, the Turks, to Germany, found shelter at the court of the Margrave of Baden, and died in the castle of Pforzheim in 1557. Maurice was succeeded in the electorate by his brother Augustus, remembered for his exertions to advance the material pros- perity of his subjects, by promoting fruit culti- vation, and still more by encouraging the manu- facture of cloth, the national Saxon industry. The great objects of Charles's life, the esta- blishment of unity in religious belief, and the elevation of the imperial power to unques- tioned Supremacy in Church and State, had failed. The persistence of the Protestants prevented the forcible suppression of the Reformation ; and the jealousy and distrust of the princes, evidenced in the action of Maurice of Saxony, precluded the hope of unlimited Sovereign power. A third object remained— the aggrandizement of his family; and with this view the emperor negociated the marriage Charles hastened to Lorraine, i of his son Philip with Mary of England, in FIXSTORY OF MODERAW TIMES. 1554. In the next year was goncluded, under tº º the presidency of Ferdinand, the Religiºsº brother of Charles, the important §: ...; “Religious Peace of Augsburg.” pU, 3b, Full freedom of conscience, and political as well as religious equality with the followers of the old religion, were by this impor- tant treaty assured to the adherents of the con- fession of Augsburg; together with continued possession of the church livings and property they held. Toleration, and, if desired, the licence of free departure, were also secured to the Protestant subjects of Catholic princes. But the question whether ecclesiastics who should in future join the new church were to be deprived of their rank and revenues, though hotly debated, was not definitely settled ; and the “ecclesiastical reservation ” by which the difficulty was for the time put aside became the fruitful cause of future calamity, and reduced the Treaty of Augsburg from a definite set- tlement to a compromise. Yet it bore great and important fruits. It secured for Germany the blessings of peace and rest; and was the beginning of a long period of material pros- §§ perity, of im- proved com- m e T C e a n d manufacture, and of general Contentment. The emperor, who had de- puted to his brother the pre- sidency of the Diet of Augs- burg, to escape the humiliation of personally giving up the points for which he had striven for many years, was deeply discouraged at the position of affairs. The loss of Metz, Toul, and Verdun, which, though nominally still belonging to the empire, had in reality been transferred to France, weighed heavily on his care-burdened mind. Among the Germans his name had sunk wofully ; satirical songs, caught up eagerly by the populace, proclaimed on every highway how “The mistress and the maiden both (Metz and Magdeburg) To dance with Kaiser Karl are loth,”—how the fair land of Lorraine had been lost to the empire. Bodily infirmity and pain- ful attacks of gout increased the constitutional melancholy inherited from his mother, the insane Joanna—a fatal legacy that had em- bittered his life; and Superstitious terrors increased the misery of bodily pain. Though but fifty-five years of age, in constitution he was a broken-down man, wearied with the long battle in which he had been worsted; and he determined that the curtain should fall upon the drama of his reign before the stage darkened. He resolved to divest himself of - i ;à-- º ia* fºź Cº.º- : º wi– ºiftiSº *:º| ; at: TEIE TOWN-EIALL OF GEIENT. 345 —s the power which had proved but vanity and vexation of spirit. On the 25th of * * * October, at Brussels, he solemnlyo. and publicly transferred to his son**** Philip the sovereignty of the Netherlands, and shortly afterwards that of Spain, Naples, and the vast possessions of Spain in the New World. Great and general relief was felt throughout Germany when it appeared that the rule over Austria and the German states was to be left in the hands of Ferdinand, the brother of Charles ; for the whole nation had dreaded the Spanish influence, and desired above all things to be separated from the affairs and interests of the Peninsula. Charles completed his abdication by laying down the imperial crown in September, 1556; and he to whom one-half of the world had belonged, turned his back upon earthly pomp and grandeur, to seek in the Tetirement of the cloister the peace of mind that had never been his upon the throne. It was to Spain, to the Convent Of St. Juste, in Estre- madura, that the grey discrowned Raiser retired to await in mo- nastic seclusion “the inevitable hour.” Like the great cardinal, his contempo- rary, he might have claimed entrance with the appeal— “Oh, father abbot An oldman, broken with the cares of State, Is come to lay his weary bones a- mong you : Give him a little earth, for charity.” It was little more than half a century since he had been born, at Ghent, to a vast inheritance. He survived his retirement about two years, leading a quiet life in a dwelling pleasantly situated near the convent, on the declivity of a hill surrounded by plantations. He still took some interest in the affairs of the world he had quitted, and exerted some influence on the empire he had ruled so long. But the gloom of his mind deepened with increasing ill health; and at last the poor superstitious invalid sought to familiarize himself with the idea of death by causing the prayers for the dead to be read over him while he yet lived,—a burial service, during which he was carried into the convent church on a bier like a corpse, being read at his command. In the year 1558 he died, after having played a leading part for forty years in the political history of Europe. He had been the Tuler of half the world, and had found out, like the preacher of old, and like a great number of people, not far behind him in philosophy and experience, since, that “all is vanity.” THE UAVZ VERSAP, IWSTRUCTOR, ex C C C C; º: º C. º º º, ſº O. C. ſº Tºº Eric § § tº: §[ººk ºff º §(tº: ele ºf - XII. * COMPOUND DIVISION. COMPOUND DIVISION is the name given to two separate processes—namely (1) the process of dividing a given compound quantity into any required number of equal parts, and finding what each of these parts amounts to ; and (2) the process of finding how often one given compound quantity is contained in another given compound quantity of the same kind. Thus, for instance, the process of finding the amount of each share when £1 8s. 4d. is divided into 4 equal parts, is an instance of process (1). The student will probably be able to find for himself that the answer in this case is 7s. 1d. The method of finding how many times 7s. 1d. is contained in £1 8s. 4d. is an instance of process (2). The principle on which compound division depends is the same as that on which simple di- vision also depends—namely, that if we separate a number into parts, and divide each of these parts by a given divisor, the sum of all the quotients so found will be the quotient of the whole original number divided by the given di- visor, e.g., 688–4 = 400+ 4 + 280--4--8-4, which is easily seen to be true. Suppose we wish to divide £179s. 4d. by 4. Now 4 into 17 go 4 times and 1 over : 7.6., 17 = 4 × 4 + 1. Therefore the given quantity is made up of the two parts, £4 × 4 and £1 9s. 4d. The quotient of the first part, when divided by our divisor 4, is £4, and we proceed to find the quotient of the second part (£19s. 4d.). Now, £1 = 20s., ... ::1. 9s. 4d. = 29s. 4d. ; and 4 into 29 go 7 times and 1 over : i.e., 29s. 4d. may be separated into the two parts, 28s. and 1s. 4d., and the quotient of the first part divided by 4 is 7s. Again, the remaining part, 1s. 4d., is equal to 16d., and the quotient of 16d. divided by 4 is 4d. We have now separated the original £179s. 4d. into the parts £16, 283., and 16d. The quotients arising from dividing each of these parts by 4 I are £4, 7s., and 4d. 20 Therefore, by the gºmºsº principle stated 20 + 9 = 29 above, the quotient 28 of £1798. 4d.divided by 4 is £47s. 4d. 1 The above process 12 might be arranged as * example in margin. 12 + 4 = 16 We say, 4 into 17 16 go 4 times and 1 — over : ... put down the quotient, #4, in the answer, and reduce #3 s. d. £ s. d. 4)17 9 4(4 7 4 16 * * the remainder, É1, to shillings, adding in the 9s. of the dividend. Then 4 into 298. go 7 times and 1 over ; ... put 7s. in the answer, and reduce the re- mainder, 18., to pence, adding in the 4d. Of the dividend. Then 4 into 16 go 4 times without remainder. Therefore write 4d. in the answer, Example: Divide £31 7s. 11%d. by 14. £ s. d. £ s. d. 14)31 7 11}(2 4 19 lq. 28 *== 3 20 60 + 7 = 67 56 11 12 132 + 11 = 143 140 3 4 12 -- 3 = 15 14 rem. 14. We say, 14 into 31 go twice and 3 over; ... put £2 as the first figure of quotient. Multiply the remainder 3 by 20, to reduce it to shillings, and add in the 7s. of the dividend. We thus get 67s. Dividing this 67s. by 14, we get quotient 4, and remainder 11. Re- ducing these 118. to pence, and adding in the IId, of the dividend, we get 143d., into which the divisor goes 10 times, leaving a remainder 3d. Reducing this 3d. to farthings, and adding in the 3g. of the dividend, we have 15q., into which the divisor goes 1, leaving remainder 1. Thus the result, when £3 17s. 11; d. is divided by 14, is quotient £2 4s. 103d., and remainder I ** will be seen that the above process really consists in separating the dividend £31 78.11%d. into the following parts: £28, 56s., 140d., and 15q., and dividing each part by 14. . The several quotients are £2, 4s., 10d., and 14., and the sum of these is the answer—viz., £2 4s. 10}d. This process is equivalent to the following Rule for Compound Division : To divide a compound quantity by a given number, T. Find by simple division how often the divisor is contained in the highest denomina- tion of the dividend. Set down the quotient, and reduce the remainder, if there be one, to the next lower denomination, adding in the number of that denomination, if there be any, in the dividend. 2. Divide the number so obtained by the divisor, set down the quotient, reduce the re- mainder, and so on, as before. The sum of all the quotients is the required quotient. PENMAASHIP. 34? Example: Divide £479 17s. 8d. by 123. £ s. d. § 3. d. 123)479 178 (3 18 0} 369 * 123 into 479 go 3 times, 110 remainder 110. Reduce this 20 remaindertoshillings; adding emsm- in the 17s. of the dividend, 2217 we get 2217s. 123 123 into these go 18 times; remainder 3. Reducing these *- 987 3s. to pence, and adding in 984 the 8d. of the dividend, we *- get 44d. 3 Now, the divisor 123 won’t 12 go into 44; . . put 0d. in the - answer, and reduce the 44d. 44 to farthings. We find 1764., 4 into which 123 go once ; re- mainder 53. 176 - 123 Answer, 33 18s. 0}d., and tº- 534. Temainder. 537, rem. When the divisor can be broken up into factors, it is often more convenient to divide successively by them. Example : Divide £35 6s. 5d. by 42. 42 = 6 × 7. 26 s. d. £ s. d. iſ s. d. £ s. d. 7) 35 6 5 (5 0 11 6) 5 0 11 (0 16 93 35 20 6 100 12 96 72–H5 =77 4 77 12 48-|-11 = 59 I)ividing by 7, we get as 54 quotient £50s. 11d. - We have now to divide 5 this by 6. The quotient is 4 16s. 9; d. - This is therefore the 20 quotient when £35 6s. 5d. 18 is divided by 42. - 3 rem THE HANDWRITING OF EMINENT MEN– LETTERS IN COMBINATION WITH CAPITALS. THE handwriting of different men is neces- sarily so infinitely varied that it is almost im- possible to attempt any classification of those points which individualise the penmanship of - ... ... distinguished individuals. ... Mr. Glassifieation Seton, in his entertaining “Gossip of * about Letters and Letter-writers,” CS, has, however, presented the fol- lowing results, disclaiming, nevertheless, any extremely accurate definition or classification : “Free and floning.—William Pitt, David Garrick, Marquis Wellesley, Marquis of Dal- housie, Earl Russell, Earl of Shaftesbury, Rev. Dr. Guthrie. “Free, but somewhat angular and ladylike. —Duke of Wellington (late), Earl of Derby (late), Earl of Dalhousie (formerly Lord Pen- mure). “Free, but not nwell-formed.—Lord Macaulay, Rev. Robert Hall, John Wilson (“Christopher North'), Edward Irving, Dean Stanley, Rev. Dr. Norman Macleod. “Distinct round hands (in some cases very wp:right).-Lord Chancellor Eldon, Sir James Macintosh, Sir Walter Scott, Richard Cobden, Thomas Carlyle, Charles Dickens, Dr. Wilber- force (Bishop of Winchester), Lord Lindsay (now Earl of Crawford and Balcarres), Dean Alford. “Neat, small, and on the ovhole legible.— Theodore Hook, Hugh Miller, Rev. Dr. Pusey, Dr. Robert Chambers, Harrison Ainsworth, Alfred Tennyson, John Ruskin, James Anthony Froude, Rev. Dr. Candlish, Lord Lytton, Shirley Brooks. “Very small, meat, and legible.—Thomas Gray (who is said to have usually written with a crow-quill, in accordance with the practice of ‘General’ Tom Thºmb), Matthew Henry, Philip Doddridge, Samuel Rogers, Rev. John Brown, Giuseppe Mazzini. “ Very meat and regular, but somen:hat cramped and formal.—Sir James Graham (late), The Rt. Hon. William Ewart Gladstone, M. Guizot, Rev. Dr. Caird. - “Good bold hands-Dugald Stewart, Patrick Fraser Tytler, Lord Brougham, Isaac Taylor, Dr. Whately (Archbishop of Dublin), Duke of Argyll, Rev. Charles Kingsley, Dr. Livingstone, Martin F. Tupper. “Beautifully formed and distinct.—Duke of Portland (Prime Minister), Leigh Hunt, David M. Moir (‘Delta'), Sir Frederick Pollock, William M. Thackeray. “Bold and magnificent, but rather large.— Thomas Aird, Sheridan Knowles, Lord Elcho, John Steele. “Distinct, but vulgar.—Daniel O'Connell, Joseph Hume. “Very ordinary and badly formed.—James Hogg, Lord Byron, William Wordsworth, Lord Chancellor Campbell. “Systematically illegible.—Rev. Dr. Chal- mers.” It is unquestionable that both temperament, character, and hereditary characteristics exert modifying influences on the penmanship of each individual. On this point the late DT, William Seller offered some apt remarks many years since. He is contrasting the style of writing adopted by a man of what is fami- liarly termed a “sanguine ‘’temperament with that of another who oomes under the “bilious.” category. “We will take,” he says, “a man with light auburn hair, blue sparkling eyes, a ruddy complexion, ample chest, and well- rounded, agile frame. . . , When such a man sits down to write he makes short work of it. He snatches the first pen that comes in the way, never looks how it is pointed, dabs it 348 THE UNIVERSALL INSTRUCTOR. into the ink, and then dashes on from side to side of the paper in a full, free and slipshod style; his ideas—or at all events his words— flowing faster than his agile fingers and leaping muscles can give them a form. . . contrary, select a man with deep black hair, black eyes, brown or Sallow complexion, and thin, Spare form. . . . After weighing well his subject in his mind, he sits down deliberately, Selects and mends his pen, adjusts his paper, and in close, stiff, and upright characters, traces with a snail’s pace his well-weighed and Sententious compo- sition.” And Dr. Seller then proceeds to give characteristic illustra- tions of the mode of writing indulged in by individuals of the other temperaments. The following list is extracted from one of a series of contribu- tions, by an anonymous correspondent to a popular journal some years since relative to the autographs of certain historic celebrities:– “Queen Elizabeth, while princess, wrote a beautiful engrossing hand—clear and regular, almost, as an engraving of Hetters. After she had been queen a long time, a melan- choly change occurs. The letters are thin, spiteful; the lines ir- regular : an ugly old maid’s version Of her former hand; and the signature is a thing to make one bless oneself. Mar- tin Luther's is firm and legi- ble, though not very equal Il OT very straight. Sir T h O m a s More's by no means dis- plays the calm firmness he possessed; the lines are crooked and tumbling downhill. Rubens' signature is manly and bold, with a careless ease and clearness denoting mas- tery of hand. Lord Bacon's writing is very like an elegant modern shorthand—clear, sº- - --→ - --- st gº / & * * * * * & gº ſ º º - - ſº * * & f º c. w º • -º 5. º: : * º º D/ / / / /2ZZ\ r /C// // / / / / %% /2/ / / / A. V & * !-/ 3A% (7/ZZZ ZZZZZZ}/4///// 7 / / 4///////ZZZZZ, ZZZZ #7:// ſ // . / / / / / / / ZZZZZZZZ, 777-Z 7–7 7–7 77-77-77-7 ZLZ. A FIG. 14.—MULHAUSER's KEY. === <= Assº, º me ass= se = <= -- ºr-- - --- *- -- * *-* - * *-* *. without method or care. all the very gentlemanly hand most people would expect; rather like a housemaid's. bad, small, full of indecision; a very hedgerow of corrections and eraSures. •= smºº –- a-- -- *-* * *-* -- neat, and regular; the signature invelved with broken lines, as if a fly had struggled and died in a spider's web. regular, steady, and straight, evidently not Voltaire—very clear, . On the written rapidly, but with continuous ease. Oliver Cromwell— w – large, bold, legible, 7 Z / / / / / & steady, sharp, and Z /N straight; the signature made up of halberds , and printed palisades. f}ut another letter is not at all of this cha- racter : it displays a perplexed and unde- cided mind at the time that it was written. Prince de Condé–not at all in accordance with the strong ex- pression and buffalo features of his face. Charlotte Corday — firm, clear, steady, but not without emotion. Cuvier—very like the writing of Charlotte Corday, but not so strong and compact. Danton—wilful, daring George IV.-not at Pope—very Cardinal Wolsey— a good hand, dist urb ed only by ner- vous energy and self-will. Porson — cor- Te cit a n d steady ; the reverse of his personal ap- pearance and habits. Shake- Speare £), very bad hand indeed ; con- fused, crowd- ed, crooked in the lines; scarcely legi- ble. Napo- Specimen of Small Hand. FIG. 15.-cop1Es. le on — still moreillegible. No letters formed at all; the signature a mere hasty ‘Scrimmage' with the pen.” In connec- tion with the subject of the individuality of handwriting, a critic in the Worth British. Revien, Speaking of some letters of Thomas Ruthall, bishop of Durham, to Cardinal Wolsey, remarks –“They have in their way as much individuality as the human countenance PENMAAWSHIP. 349 itself, . . . which could only grow when writ- ing had become a life-long habit ; . . . and, above all, where men write for themselves, and with the abandom of men writing their own thoughts. Even in the present day the clerkly hand of those who write officially is, except in the upper grades, chiefly characterised by the lack of individuality.” To resume our serious work, having carefully and exhaustively analysed the mode of forma- tion of all the letters of the small alphabet, we now first pre- sent Our stu- dents with a few copies in which the wa- rious letters appear in combination. These exam- ples neces- sarily consist ofshort words, and our space requires that they should be somewhat crowded, but they will an- swer the pur- pose, and the learner can easily bear in mind our previous re- marks upon spacing. In this con- nection it may be well to re- mark that it is a very good plan to choose for copies un- familiar geo- g r a phic al names, or dif- ficult words in any science or art in which the penman is interested. By this means the copies are made a “double debt to pay,” as while the handwriting is improved, the words chosen are also in- delibly fixed on the memory. Prior to calling the attention of the sºudent to our examples of capital letters, we will briefly speak of the different standard sizes of writing. ſº The letters given in articles vii. and viii. were of the size—that is to Say, depth from top to bottom—usually termed “text,” or colloquially spoken of as “large hand.” . For this kind of writing the lines are ruled half an inch asunder. The next hand, in size, is “half text,” which is usually made to occupy the space of one- third of an inch. Following in ... g the descending series comes *...*.*.*, “round hand,” to which five * S. twenty-fourths, or by some a quarter of an inch, may be allotted. Lastly, we have ordi- nary “small hand,” to which it is difficult to apportion any exact space, although, perhaps, one-eighth of an inch for formal small hand and three thirty-seconds of an inch for later current hand may be fixed as good DO € 3, S. S. A. larger hand than any here specified, with a depth of S e V e. n tee n. t we n t y- fourths, OT sometimes | three-quarters of an inch, is called “large text.” At fig. 7 we gave a com- parative scale Of the differ- ent hands, both by di- mensions and * * * * * * FIG. 16. -CAPITAL LETTElts. specimens. It must, how- ever, be un- derstood that these sizes are not arbitra- rily fixed. Dif- ferent writ- ing-masters and authori- ties upon mat- ters of pen- manship, both past and pre- sent, vary more or less from some of the stanélards and names above given. Of course, with regard to Small hand, when a boy OT girl leaves School, or an adult finishes his course of lessons, either infallibly adopts a size and style characteristic of himself or herself. In the same manner that different individuals slope their writing more or less, or write lightly or the reverse, so a big, bold current hand seems to come naturally to some people, while others fall into a light and minute—sometimes almost microscopic—style of penmanship. The standards given are, how- ever, good and proportionate, and should be adhered to for the larger hands assuredly, while 350 THE UNIVERSAL INVST'R UCTO iè. even for small hand it must be borne in mind that for both Civil Service and commercial pur- poses too wide divergence from the more usual standard is unadvisable. We decidedly recom- mend therefore, that the early practice of Small hand be on the one-eighth inch Scale, especially when the dictum of the great John Locke is considered : “Every one naturally comes by degrees to write a less hand than he at first was taught, but never a bigger.” We now give the capitals (figs. 16, 17) of the “ text, " hand size. The stan- dard propor- tion of capi- tals to small letters may be taken as about twice and a half the height of the latter; but in order to economise our space we have shown them as Only tºwice the size of the smaller letters. The student can easily make the alteration in ruling his 2,062T. The capitals neither re- quire, nor do they admit of, detailed des- cription, such as that which we gave of the small charac- ters. The ir proper execu- tion requires mainly free- sdom of hand and taste, as their elements are less rigid a n d more flowing than those of the 'small letters. in the synop- sis of Mulhaii- ser's system of teaching writing, published some years since under the sanction of the Committee of the Council of Education, the two figures given at fig. 11 are taken as the “key of the capital letters.” The following observations accompany the illustration :- “The key or principal figure of the capital letter is S. It is divided into * * three parts: the elements are y, & two curves, separated by a right Fig. 11 combines all the motions of the line. - FIG. 17.-CAPITAL LETTERS. hand in writing. It is formed by successive strokes of the pen, and without raising it from the paper. It is formed of a crotchet, a right line three heights, two curves, and a loop.” (These are terms adopted in Mulhaiiser's System, with which we need not here coneerm ourselves.) “The curves ought to be of the Same height and width, and the loops at the top and bottom cause the right line to extend beyond the three heights. To be able to reach the extreme points, the formation of the figure should be commenced at half-height ° (that is to Say, in the centre). Appended to the dia- gram are the following in- Struction s relative to the manner of executing the key —a, o, e, g are struck from below upwards, b ‘ from above downwards, d from right to left, and f from left to right. The practi- cal use of this key is, how- e ver, but slight. It is mainly for its employment of the graceful double curve which Ho- garth termed t he “l in e of beauty" that we in- clude it, as the import- ance of this Curve in the formation of elegant capi- tals is so great that too much atten- tion can scarcely be directed to it. This line may be Said to be divisible into three distinct parts, which melt into each other by imperceptible gradations. The central portion follows the general inclination of the writing, and is formed by a regular and full stroke of the pen, while the upper and lower parts are portions of a large elliptical curve. It may be mentioned that some authorities make a refinement in this curve as applied to pen- manship, but forming the upper portion a If R EAWCH PROMUAVCIATION. 351 smaller part of a larger curve than the lower : one, keeping the stroke heavier on the lower half than on the upper, etc.; but, though we note these minutiaº in order that our pupils should be aware of them, we consider it un- necessary to enter into such distinctions. §Eillfiſſiſſiº &ºi=E=#EEsº :-º: Sºº-ji=#Eº-º Jºš; £& º º }: 2:º §§ ºś Sº sº FRENC XI. GN–THE CONSONANTS (continued). § 54. The combination gn presents a liquid sound, and forms with the following vowel what might correctly enough be called a proper diphthong. Let us consider the three positions which gn may occupy. It appears (1) in the 'body of a word before any audible vowel ; (2) in the body of a word before e mute; (3) at the beginning of a word. 1. Here it recalls the sound of the English Jºi in companion, ponia?'d, etc. The i sound is not prominent in the least, but is nevertheless detected : il cogna (co-nia), he knocked; wegner (ré-nié), to reign ; grognon (gro-nion), grumbler; Seigneur (sê-nieur), lord ; rognure (ro-miure), pairing. In this position a few ompound vowels undergo disintegration, as at i in the proper names Aigman, Cassaigne, Montaigne, etc., which are pronounced a-nian, ca-sa-ing, mon-ta-ing, etc. ; in oignon, onion (o-nion), oiffmonière, Onion field (o-nio-miè?'). The following words, to which the Académie by its silence assigns the sound of the proper diph- ihong oi (See § 52) are sometimes pronounced, as M. Littré confirms it, with the sound peculiar to oignon : moignon, poignant, poignard, poigne, joignet ; and so are the proper nouns Coigny and Lamoignon. 2. In this position gne is pronounced nie, e Fešežº Đf receiving the slender sound explained in § 18; accompagnement, accompaniment, is read a-kon- pa-nie-man. Placed at the end of a word, gne requires special attention. When this occurs in poetry, gne follows exactly the lines laid down for lle, keeping the sound nie, as explained above, but in a more or less marked manner. La montagne cn travail enfante ºne &ouris (Boileau), The labouring moun- tain brings forth a mouse; say la mon-ta-niān- tra, etc. Fuyez surtout, fuyez ees basses jalou- sies, Des vulgaires espnits malignes fré-né-sies (DO.), Shun above all, shun that mean envy, the malignant frenzy of vulgar minds; say tna-li-mie, marking e slender pretty distinctly. In the following the e will be marked somewhat less, as it is at the very end of the line : C'est l'éffet du malheur qui partout m'accompagne (Corneille), It is the effect of the ill-luck which everywhere follows me; by dwelling in malignes and accompagne on the syllables li and pa respectively, the diphthong gne will be more easily breathed. In prose, when gne ends a sentence or precedes a consonant, it recalls the English ng before which a short F. i would be placed ; campagne, country, read kan-pa... i...mg ; borgne, one-eyed, read boy...i...ºng ; it enseigné, he teaches, read an sè...i...ºng; its ré- pugnent, they are repugnant, read re-pu-ā-ng (the verbal termination mt being mute, see $46, b). But be careful to draw out the vowel sounds pa, bor, sé, pu, etc., to make the i as short as possible; yet do not say pang, borng, sèng, pung. Over and above this, the learner must guard himself from another and worse defect, which, though more generally observ- able in Germans, is also met with in Great Britain. It consists in putting a soft guttural to the end of each of those syllables; anything more un-French could scarcely be devised. In song, as in the case of all mute or so- called mute syllables, gne without altering the quality of its sound mie in the least, prolongs it to the extent of the duration of the note set to it, and then one should figure it by mieu. (For ew open see § 37, c.) 3-2 I * In OS DOOD - Chant ta - gries Qui fais tres - sail - lir, *iew eº £2 -e • c- º º *—t—*— zº TCI * -ºm- Leº I | [&#EEE 1 & T. L. s E—--ge—t---a 2–H–H–E–= | | 9–º-— 2— I -º-T-ſ-- –Li E- | " | TT Zily pr ſ l | | l | Toi, de nos cam - pa - gries Wi- vant sou - we - nir. oniew 3. At the beginning of a word gn sounds like gn in E. ignore: gneiss (ghneiss, not neiss), Gnide, gnome, gnomon, gnose, gnostique, #nou, etc. This pronunciation is also met with in the body of the following : agnat (aghna), and derivs., agnus Dei, cognat and derivs. ; diagnose and derivs. ; igné and derivs.; inea pugnable, magnificat, magnolier, Progné, recognition, régnicole, stagnant and derivs, Stegnose. Remark.-In signet, Regmaud, Regmard, the g is quite mute; say si-né, re-nó, re-mar. THE CONSONANTS, § 55. B is pr. as in English : bombon, sweet- meat, bombe, bomb, subtil (sub'-til), subtle, abbé (a-bé), abbot. These nouns sound the final b : club, Jacob, Job, nabob, q'adowb º Le jockey-club avait alors ºne bouquetière à soi, the jockey-club had then a specially engaged flower-girl ; donner le radowbTà un vaisseau, to refit a ship. At the end of a nasal sound b is not articulated : Christophe Colomb a découvert l'Amérique, Christopher Columbus has dis- 352 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. covered America (say co-lon a); le plomb et le fer, lead and iron (say le plon et). $ 56. C=% before a, o, u, and consonants: car, because, cor, horn, cºlºrienta, inquisitive, clow, nail; C-S before e, i, y: cécité, blindness, cygne, Swan. In föcond, fruitful, and second, second, C-g: weine-claude, greengage, should not be pr. glaude, as Some teach, and czar' = Āzar. The following words, of Italian origin, are rather capriciously pr. ; dolee = dol-tehé, vermicelle either venºmisel or *ermichel, violon- celle either violomsel or violonchel, crescendo either crè-sin-do or crèch-in-do : one hears oftenest vermisel, violónsel, crèchindo. This letter is usually pr. at the end of words, and then it is even heard before a consonant : wn suc'T'amer, a bitter Sap ; des sucs amers (suk- zamère); un sacTa farine, a flour bag, un sac de farine, a bag of flour (say sak). The fol- lowing words leave c inarticulated : (1) those in no and net, as banc, bench, blanc, white, flanc, flank, tu vaincs, thou overcomest, il convaine, he convinces, jome, cane, distinet, distinct, instinct, instinct, dome, then (but only in the middle of the sentence after a consonant : allons done mous promener, do let us take a walk ; in zinc, zinc, c = k). (2) broc, jug, croc (and derivs.), fang; marc, a weight or residue (but in saint-Marc pr. c), arc-botttant, buttress (but arc, bow = a1%), porc, pig, clerc, clerk, Échecs, chess (but áchecs, reverses, is pr. écheck) entrelacs, running ornaments, estomac, stomach, lacs, Snares (but lacs, lakes = lack), tabac, tobacco. Iºemark.-Each of these words would require a short article to itself in order to do it full justice, for the above indicated pronunciation undergoes certain modifications when the words, either remaining as they are or being further inflected, stand in the body of a phrase before other words which have vowels for their initials. . A few examples, illustrative in principle of other terminations besides c, will show our mean- ling :- are : des arcs attachés ensemble, bows tied together, Say dé-zark attachés, not dé-zark-za. des clercs en vacances, clerks enjoying holi- days, say dé cler em, not dé cler-zem. des crocs aigus, Sharp fangs, say krô-zé; croc- em-jambe, tripping, is read cro-kan, and the plur. crocs-em-jambe is also read cro-kam : See § 74, Item. some say di-stinkt", others di-stink", the rest di-stin, and this last form is recommended; the feminine is pr. di-stinkt" by all. is pr. instin, but instinct impérieuw-instin- Kim. ; in the plural des instincts impérieux: = tin-zim. des pores engraissés, fattened pigs, say por engravsses. tabae : du fabac & priser, snuff, ta-ba-ka; plural tabacs=tabá. clerc : CrOG : distinct : ???stinct : porc : § 57. Ce =% before a, o, u, or a consonant: accable,", to overwhelm, raccommode?', to mend, accuser, to accuse, acclimater, to acclimatize; Ce=/.3 before e and i : accēs = ahsé, vaccºme = vaksine. § 58. Q has always the hard sound of s : macon, mason. The only words which present £ as an initial are gamon and ga, also gá gamom is an adverb meaning yes, indeed ; , Molière uses it : camon, vraiment il y a fort & gagner & fréquenter vos nobles (Bourg. III, 3), yes, truly there is much gain in frequenting your people of quality. Ça is a familiar contraction for cela: donnez-moi ça, give me that ; ;& is an adverb of place: că et lå, here and there; c'a is also met with, and stands for cé a or cela a . £'a 6té un grand malheur, it has been a great misfortune. See § 9. N CITEN - HISTORY...es REVOLTS IN ASSYRIA. WUL-NIRARIbuilt palaces at Nineveh and Kaleh. The ruins of the former are on the mound now known as Nebbi-yunus; of the latter, on the bank of the Tigris, adjoining the remains of the splendid edifices erected by Assur-nazir-pal and Shalmaneser. A temple to the gods Nebo and Maraduk at Nineveh, and to Nebo at Kaleh, were also the work of this king. The latter, completed in 787 B.C., contained two colossal figures of the god, one on each side of the main avenue; and there were four smaller statues in one of the halls. The queen of Vul-nirari was Sammuramat, equivalent to the Greek form Semiramis ; but there is no reason to suppose she was the famous queen whose story has been told in so many forms, from the time of the Greek romantic historians to that of the author of the modern opera “Semiramide.” The Greek Semiramis is doubtless a fabulous personage; and, indeed, the date assigned to her is at least five hundred years before the time of the queen of Vul-nirari. Probably the name was given to Several Assyrian queens. In 783 B.C. Wul-nirari died, and his son, an- other Shalmaneser, the third king of the name, reigned in his stead. During the greater part of his reign of nine years, he was engaged in war with the Armenian kings of Ararat. Within the preceding fifty years these monarchs had been increasing in power. Their dominions had increased by conquests in Syria, Media, and other places, and they had even made incursions into the Assyrian provinces. The result of the expeditions into Armenian terri- tory by Shalmaneser III. was uncertain, and when the Assyrian king died, in 774 B.C., the power of the kings of Ararat was not only unbroken, but the new king found that they Were dangerous and aggressive neighbours. Assur-dan II., who reigned fifteen years, made several incursions into the Babylonian territory, and sent expeditions to Media and northern Syria. But the most remarkable event of his reign was the occurrence of a revolt in his dominions, beginning by an outbreak at Assur, the old capital of the empire, and extending into the provinces from Arapha on the south- east to Gozan in the extreme north-west. The civil war lasted nine years, and then was “crushed out,” in the manner, we may well suppose, in which civil wars usually are crushed out, by fire and Sword, Palaces and temples, Outbreak of a revolt, •r AAWOIEWT HISTORY. 353 massacre and devastation. Those old Assyrian kings, those builders of grand palaces and rearers of colossal statues, were ruthless war- riors, thinking no more of human life than did the monarchs of Egypt or the leaders of bar- barian hordes in all times. Connected with the revolt was a remarkable circumstance, recorded in the ammals, and by which we are enabled to test the accuracy of the dates there given. The Assyrian chrono- logical canon mentions that in the year 763 B.C. “Assur revolted, and in the month Sivan the sun was eclipsed.” No doubt the astrologers of King Assur-dan's court regarded this matural phenomenon as an omen of great events; and it appears to have excited considerable atten- tion at the time. But the interest of the eclipse to us is that Mr. Hind, the well-known astronomer, having been requested to under- take the calculation, found that in June, 763 B.C., an eclipse of the sun was visible in and a few years later other raids were made. with apparently but little result. The military prestige of the empire, So great under some of the preceding monarchs, was weakened; the fierce warriors, accustomed to lead their fol- lowers to victory, became dissatisfied; and the soldiery, unfitted for peaceful occupations, were ready to accept a new king, who would lead them. Once more to encounter enemies and pillage towns. After three or four years of latent dissatis- faction, open revolt broke out in 745 B.C. Assur-nirari II. was driven from - the throne, after an inglorious.*PPºº ºf * - - s new leader, reign of nine years, and Tiglath- Pileser II., one of those energetic men who ap- pear in times of political convulsion and restore order and personal government, Occupied the usurped throne. With his reign begins a new era, described by some historians as the Second Assyrian empire; and we are no longer mainly T-B-E E E ==== gºats † } == ——--------—–------- -- - ------" *--. + - − === -- * ------- TP \-s; Y ~ ; ; ) T ſ ! %.” — ` \ } \; ſyllº ... -\º T: , = - ~ * Jºlº. ºn sºlº \ t N = : 2 ~~~ [* . == \;= ; º w # =U= \ . . . ºss § º - - ( - - | - # = sº-' ſº º º § - --> --T Fº-- - -- ºw. º —-seasºšš=*::=: É========##################-T-S- ºWººsºº" wº º N º \\ º . § º \\ 5- ſº º §§ "...#|||}|† WWWWA\% WWWWNºšWºWSº §§ º * * * * º ºº MO UN D COVERING TEIlê RUINS OF ANCIENT BABYLON. Assyria, thus confirming the accuracy of the historical canon which has been preserved to our days. The internal dissensions in the empire, although temporarily put down, no doubt - . . indicated a weakening of the Piºn despotic power of the monarch, * and a growing spirit of indepen- dence and self-assertion on the part of the people, including diverse conquered races, sub- dued by military power, and despoiled to add to the wealth and grandeur of the great cities. No doubt the leaders of the armies and the nobles of the empire had enriched themselves, power growing with their wealth; and a rich and martial aristocracy is always a danger to an autocrat. The successor of Assur-dan, Assur-nirari II. (755 B.C.), at the beginning of his reign conducted one or two military expe- ditions, of which only very brief records exist; VOL. I. dependent on the monuments and clay inscrip- tions for the annals of Assyria, having reached a period when other authentic materials of history appear. When the second Tiglath-Pileser became monarch of Assyria, the Babylonian empire, like its more powerful neighbour, was weakened by internal dis- sensions, and the growing power of various tribes, which, nominally subject to the central power, were practically indepen- dent. Chaldeans, under different leaders, for the two tribes into which they had been so long divided were now subdivided into many septs or clams, overran the country; races were mixed, and the Babylonians proper were no longer the predominant people of the empire. The once powerful Hittites, whose sway had extended from the Euphrates, the western border of Assyria, to the ridges of the Lebanon, 23 Condition of Babylonia. 354 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. in northern Syria, had diminished, weakened by the terrible onslaughts of ASSur-nazir-pal and Shalmaneser II., until the authority of their kings was limited to a small territory surrounding Karchemish, that great city, the site of which was unknown until Mr. Skene, the British Consul at Aleppo, and Mr. George Smith, traced it in the huge mound on the western bank of the Euphrates, midway be- tween the villages of Sajar and Birejik, near a ford of the great river, traversed for centuries by caravans, no man thinking that the mound was composed of the remains of the Hittite capital. We shall revert to the history of this remarkable people, of whom so little—indeed, scarcely anything—was known till the clay monuments revealed the leading features of a great history. A recent writer very truly says, “One of the most curious results of modern research has been a belief in the existence of a great and influential empire in Western Asia, the very existence of which had been forgotten in the days of classical anti- quity.” Jotham, the good king, son of the leper Uzziah, was on the throne of Judah, ruling ..., his people firmly and justly, re- *...* building the principal gate of * the temple at Jerusalem, and strengthening the fortifications of the city of David. The king of Israel was Pekah, “the open-eyed" (appearing as Pagaha on the Assy- rian inscriptions), who strengthened his own dominions and cherished the idea of reuniting to them the sister kingdom of Judah, forming an alliance with Rezin, king of Damascus, for the purpose of driving the royal house of David from the throne. The wonderful prophecies of Isaiah were in course of utterance; Hosea was foreshadowing the days of the captivity “by the rivers of Babylon,” and Micah, the sixth in order of the minor prophets, was prophesying sadly concerning Samaria and Jerusalem. Of Egypt and Greece at this time we shall speak in due course. For the present we pro- pose to limit ourselves to the actions of the new Assyrian king, Tiglath-Pileser II., and there are incidents enough to supply material for an interesting chapter of the history of the world, untold, and indeed unknown, till a very few years ago. A disgraced empire. XII. (continued). ADJECTIVES. THE Latin numerals are divided into four classes: Cardinal, answering to the question how many 7 as unus, one ; Ordinal, answering to the question in what order? as primus, first (in order); Distributive, answering to the ques- tion how many each? as singuli, one each ; Ad- : verbial numerals, answering the question what number of times? as Semel, once or one time, bis, twice or two times. See table on the opposite page. Here I want you to observe that in these Latin numbers there is one distinct simple word for each number up to ten (decem), but after ten we get compounds, such as wndecim for eleven—that is, unus, one, and decem, ten ; and duodecim for twelve, which is duo, two, and decem, ten, 2–H10 = 12. So in English the teens in our numbers are really tens. Thirteen is Teally 3 + 10, fourteen 4 + 10, and so on. But observe further that in expressing eighteen or nineteen, twenty-eight or twenty-nine, and so forth, the Romans rendered them by subtraction, not by addition of tens, or as we do by teens. For example, eighteen is duo de viginti, 20–2 = 18, and nineteen unus de viginti, 20–1 = 19, and duo de triginta = 30—2 = 28. 1. Observe, the ordinal numbers are all declined like bonus, with three terminations, as in nominative singular, us for the masculine, a for the feminine, and um for the neuter, as primºts, prima, primum, first; and also that distributive numerals are declined with three terminations, like bonus, but only in the plural, as singuli, singular, singula, for masculine, feminine, and neuter. The adverbial numerals are indeclinable, inasmuch as they are adverbs; while the cardinal numbers from quatuor (4) to centum (100) are indeclinable. Observe that Centum millia = } º ! 100,000 (CCCIOOO. or C. in Roman notation), and that every O annexed to IO, and O joined to CIO increased its value tenfold; thus IOO stood for 5000; CCIOO for 10,000, etc. A lime drawn over a character increased its value a thousandfold; thus V stood for 5000, C for 100,000. 2. The distributive numerals strictly denote numbers as distributed into groups, éach group forming a unit, and may be translated in Various ways, as bini, two each, two together, two by two ; and are sometimes used to give a plural meaning to those nouns substantive the plural forms of which have otherwise a singular meaning, as bina castra, two camps, whereas duo castra would mean two forts. 3. The multiplicative numerals end in plea, g. plicis (from plica, a fold), and denote how ºnany times any number or quantity is to be taken : as simplea, one-fold (or strictly without a fold), from sine, without, and plica, a fold; duplea (duo plica), twofold; triplea, three- fold ; quadruplea, fourfold; quinouplea, five- fold; Septemplea, sevenfold. These are all declined like felia. 4. Proportional numerals end in plus, pla, plum, and are declined like bonus, -a, -um. These proportionals denote the number of times that one number or quantity contains another : as tripla pan's, a part three times as great as another; simplus, once as great ; duplus, twice as great ; triplus, three times as great; quadru- plus, four times as great ; centuplus, a hundred times as great. LAZ'IAV. 355 Self. Eacamination Questions and Eazercises. What numeral adjectives are declined, and what are not declined 7 Decline like unus, solus and totus; like duo decline ambo. Decline tres and millia. In what respect does the declension of wºmws differ from the declension of bonus, though they are both adjectives of three terminations ! What is meant by a cardinal number, by an ordinal, by a distributive, by an adverbial numeral, by a multiplicative numeral, and by a proportional numeral 7 Give examples, and state which of them are declined, and if so, how declined. Argentum triplex est circum hastas horum militum. Sol nom luna est creator clari diei. Translate into Latin :— This is the tenth day of the ninth month, and this is the eleventh hour of the day. The sweet peace of a contented mind is with you, and not with us. The leaves of the trees are fair to the eyes. In this garden he was four times. Some bodies are under this tree, and Some bodies are in the deep sea, beneath the waves. A sick body is a burden to a man always. There are three Fates and nine Muses, tº dº CARDINAL, ORDINAL, DISTRIBUTIVE, AdvKRBs, § 3 answering the answering the question, answering the answering the Rox1AN 3 : question, 2Chich in nwmeric question, Question, SYMBOLS. à Pº how many ? order? how many each £ how often ? GO I iiniis primūs singúli sèmèl I 2 duð sécundús or altér bini bís II 3 très tertiàs termi on trini tër III 4 quatućr quartús quêterni quátēr IV 5 quinqué quintãs quini quinquiès V 6 Sëx sexttis sèni Sexiēs VI 7 Septem septimús Septéni septiès VII 8 Octo octavis Octoni Octiès VIII 9 növem nón is növéni növiès IX 10 décem décºmús děni dèciés X ll undécim undécimús undéni undéciés XI | 12 duðdècim duðdècimús dućděni duðdèciés XII 13 trédéeim tertilis décſmüs terni déni trédèciès XIII l4 quatuordécim quartús décimús quêterni déni quatuordèciës XIV 15 quindécim quintãs décimús quini déni quindéciés XV I6 sèdècim sext is décſmüs sèni démi sèdèciès XVI 17 septemdécim septimis décimús septèni déni septies déciés XVII 18 duodèviginti dućděvices imús duðděvicëni duðděviciès XVIII I9 undéviginti undévicësimis unºvicëni undéviciès XIX 20 viginti vicësſmüs vicëni viciès XX 21 iiniis et viginti primūs et vicësimis, vicëni singúli sémèl et vic. Us XXI or vicësimús primús 30 trigintã. tricësſmüs tricëni triciès XXX 40 quadrăgintā quadrāgésimis quadrāgéni quadrāgiès YL 50 quinquagintã. quinquāgèsſmüs quinquagéni quinquâgiēs L 60 sexâgintã. sexâgèsīmūs sexâgèni sexãgiēs LX 70 septuagintã. septuagèsſmüs septuagéni Septuagiës LXX 80 octogintã. octogësinièis octogéni octagiès LXXX 90 nónägintã. nónägesīnlūs nónāgèni nónägiès C 100 centum centesimús centeni centiès C 101 centum et ànàs centesſmüs primús centeni singúli centiès sémél CI 200 dicenti dicentesſmüs dúcèni dicentiès CC 300 trècenti trécentesimús trécèni trècentiès CCC 400 quadringenti quadringentës (müs quadringéni quadringentiès CCCC 500 quingenti quingentësimis quingéni Quingentiès D or IO 600 sexcenti sexcentésimis Sécèni Sexcentiès DC 700 septingenti septingentësimús Septingéni septingenties DCC 800 octingenti Octingentësimis Octingéni Octingentiès DCCC 900 nongenti noningentësſmüs Inongéni Inongentiès DCCCC 1000 millé millèsłmińs singūlā milliá milliès M or CIO 2000 duð milliá bis millèsimis biná milliá bis milliès MM THE LATIN NUMERALS. Translate into English – In tribus magnis urbibus erunt domini fallaces et divites. PeF millia regnorum est vox movem Musarum. Est buic homini pars quad- Tupla horum omnium agrorum. Fides Chris- tiana est triplex. In his binis castris sunt militum duo millia et Octingenti, cum sexaginta ducibus. Penes judicem est vita horum civium prudentium Sedecim. Hic est primus mensis anni undevicesimi. Sunt praemia honoris per multa et gravia singulis militibus. Haec est septima domus intra hanc salubrem regionem. Sub his moenibus atris sunt lapides atriores, and to each of the nine Muses there is a duty. Even now is the sweet hour of the bright day, without a single cloud in the high heavens. ... There is great blame to the boy because of his fear of books (objective, genitive). The city is on a high hill, and near a thick forest of trees. The whole army of one general was in three battles around Rome. The victory was to neither of the armies. There are three armies in each city. The ninth stone is near the fourth house in the second city. Three hundred women are now the slaves of ten Soldiers. Ten soldiers are now the slaves of OD16, WOIOlan, THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTRUCTOR. Pºss. ºr -º - §s tº ޺Sºx: ** Yº: ºr 'ºs-3.s - º *º-Sºº º s: ſº ºšNāº: º % %ff jº. gº º º gº s º: º: º $) º Aº & it. $º S&r= ºzºº º & & \ . §Nºsº - §§ºść § §§ º º º fº-ºººººº. £283-ſº BOTANY. º gº ^- º º 38 Rºº º tº: . .” } §ºA S& º º §§§§§ º sº XII. THE LEAVES (continued). TURNING our attention to the remarkable shrubs called Ruscus and Xylophylla, it would seem that flowers do really grow upon leaves after all. The Xylophylla is a common green- house shrub from India. One species of Ruscus, familiarly called “Butchers’ broom,” is indigenous to the southern counties of England, and may be seen everywhere in gardens. In the for- mer (the Xylophylla) the branchiets are flat and thin, and the little flowers come out in crowdsalong their edges. In the Ruscus the tiny blossom seems to be generated from the centre of a leaf, this coming of the adhe- sion of the peduncle to the branch- let nearest it. The illu- sion is heightened by neither plant produc- ing conspicuously what would be regarded as the proper leaves. Analogy and compari- son, as in other cases, bring out the truth. The leaf-like expan- sions, both of the Xylophylla and of the Ruscus, are flattened twigs, botanically termed “cladodia’’; the genuine leaves are mi- croscopically minute, Fig.55–opposite traves, and their ordinary functions are dele- gated altogether to the leaf-like twigs. A plant more interesting than the common Xylophylla latifolia. Soldom offers itself for our considera- tion. The entire shrub seems to be constituted of very elegant pinnate leaves, six or eight pairs of leaflets to every one of them. All along the edges, in due season, come out the little yellowish flowers, the males and females distinct and separate, but intermingled, as in human Society. The stalks of the males are yellow ; those of the females, not quite SO delicate, are pink ; such of the pistils as get fertilized develope into pretty little threefold seed-pods, the sym- metry of which is perfect. The fruits of the Ruscus are bright red berries, which at Christmas-tide, in the common species, are conspicuous and Orna- mental. In the very singular natural order of plants called Orobanchaceae, one of those constituted The Xylophylla and the Ruscus. & § & ºrsºº, FIG. 54.—SUN-DEW. FIG. 57.-HOUSE-LEEK. entirely of herbaceous parasitic plants, five or six of which are indigenous to our own country, the leaves The Lathrea are developed in a different way nº. e º Orobanche again. In the genuine Orobanches & they are thin membramous scales, scattered over the stem at rather long distances apart; in the Lathraea, a native plant, they so closely Tesemble the human front teeth in form and colour that the plant has from time immemorial borne the name of Toothwort. Here again the plant is not inconsistently described in popular language as “leafless.” Every species contained in the order spoken of obtains its living by theft. The plant preys, that is to say, upon some other plant, sucking out the juices and appro. priating them to its own purposes. Some of the species grow in the open Sunlight : even then they are never in any part green, always presenting a peculiar brownish or other neutral tint. The Lathraea lurks in woods and upon the shaded banks of streams, feeding itself by preference, Whenever it can, from the roots of hazels and black . …~~~ poplars. Halfhid- den among dead leaves and other vegetable refuse, in its usual state it has a waxy and cadaverous look. Sometimes, by accident, it gets exposed to the Sweet resistless light of the sun ; then, like an ill- natured and mo- TOSC (ſhall COn- Strained to smile against his will, the entire plant assumes a roseate or light purple hue. Leaves are sometimes so remark- ably distended with fluid that the thin and flat condition & usually characteristic of Solid leaves. the lamina is exchanged for a geo- metrical solid. In many kinds of Sedum the leaves are little ovoid bags of watery juice ; in others these curious reservoirs are terete or cylin- drical. Sometimes they become thick and fleshy plates; and in the great genus Mesembryanthemum, indige- nous to the Cape of Good Hope, they assume angular and other eccentric forms, which can only be named by comparing them to such objects as a carpenter's hatchet. In aloes they are thickened into a kind of elongated cone. Then, instead of being mere bags of watery fluid, they acquire considerable consistency and hardness, endur- ing for many years, and reminding one of articles cast in metal. Cylindrical forms are FIG. 56.-ALTERNATR LEAVEs. BOTAAWY. 357 assumed also by the hollow leaves of the Onion and a few other plants. In several of the largest and most important Orders of flowering-plants there are produced *- at the base of the petiole two *P* little winglike pieces called sti. pules, one upon each side. These little wings are either attached to the petiole after the manner of leaflets; or by their margins, for their entire length—in which latter case they are said to be “admate.” Trifling as the matter may Seem, the presence or absence of stipules be- comes, in the practical discrimination of the Orders of plants, a character, positive or nega- tive as the case may be, of Supreme importance. Every cinchonaceous plant, for instance, pos- sesses stipules, and so does every rosaceous plant. Contrariwise, in the Cruciferae these organs are quite unknown ; they are never de- veloped either in the Myrtaceae or the Labiatae; and in the endogenous orders their presence is extremely rare and quite exceptional. The most remarkable and conspicuous examples of stipules occur in passion-flowers ; in the order Leguminosae, the common kitchen- garden pea supplying a capital one; and in the rose. In all these plants they resemble leaflets ; and were they invariably of such character, to identify stipules would be a very easy matter. But, like the leaves and all other Organs, the stipules at times assume very anomalous forms, causing much perplexity. In the beauti- ful North American tree called the Robinia, com- mon in gardens and pleasure-grounds, they are converted into spines. In the rhubarb plant and its allies, the substance of the stipules is membranous and translu- cent, and so curiously is the portion of stem immediately below the leaf enveloped by them that they constitute a sheath, technically called an “ocrea.” “Ocreate stipules" occur nowhere else, and thus become characteristic of the Polygonaceae. In the Lathymºus Aphaoa, an English wild-flower, the stipules do the same kind of duty that in the Australian acacias is executed by the phyllodia Or dilated leafstalks. In this most curious little pea, true leaves cease to appear after the plant is an inch or two high, nothing coming where leaves should be, but a tendril, and this is half concealed between a pair of huge triangular stipules, which, to all practical intents and purposes, are the foliage of the plant. Dila- tions of the base of the petiole, requiring to be most carefully distinguished from stipules, occur in the Ranunculaceae and the Umbelliferae. Quite as needful to be observed carefully, when we are desirous of discriminating plants, is the mode in which the leaves are disposed upon the stem ; or if it be a shrub or tree, upon the branchlets and twigs. Plants desti- FIG. 58,-TEASEL. FIG. 59.-LEAVES OF CHLORA. tute of a proper stem, such as the common way- side plantain, the hyacinth, and the Onion, are said, for conveni- º: ence’ sake, to have “radical ‘’ stem leaves, as if the foliage actually sprang from the root, or “radix.” But, as stated above, it very seldom happens that roots de- velop leaf-buds; and the term “radical” must therefore be accepted as implying no more than that in the plantains, etc., the leaves appear to come from the root. There is in- variably some kind of little intermediate plat- form upon which they rest, as plainly seen on cutting a bulb vertically. Very many plants which produce a proper aerial stem have a rosette of leaves at the base, the rosette either lying flat upon the ground or form- ing a tuft ; and here again the term “radical" becomes a con- venient, though inexact, appella- tion. Radical leaves often possess long petioles, while those upon the stem above them become sessile. Radical leaves are also prone to % reserve to themselves the full and complete figure by which the species is essentially determinable. No plant supplies a prettier example of this than the Ranunculus 47/7'i- comus, or “goldilocks” of our woods and groves, the “root-leaves, supported upon long stalks, being nearly circular and only slightly cut, while the stem-leaves are reduced to a quasi-digitate con- dition, and eventually, just under the flowers, are nothing more than three little lobes. Three distinct modes of arrangement occur in stem-leaves, and every plant, as a rule, abides by its own method, al- though now and then there is a remark- able exception. When placed singly and sepa- rately, as if following at short intervals the spiral coiling of a thread round the stem, they are “alter- nate.” If they grow in couples, or two and two, they are “opposite ”; and if three or more are found together, springing horizontally from the stem, like the spokes of a wheel from its axis, they are “wholled,” or “ verticillate.” In certain fir-trees and some other plants the leaves are disposed with so little regard to regularity that they are said to be “scattered.” Another change is observable in certain other firs, and the yew- tree, where they stand out like the spray of a bird's feather, and are said to be “two- ranked”; and a third occurs in many species of the beautiful family so well illustrated in the common fleur-de-lis—the Iridaceae, where the bases of the leaves are interlocked in such a manner as to render them “equitant.” Opposite leaves are well exemplified in the Common lilac-tree. When, as not uncom- monly happens, the successive pairs are very Stem-leaves, 358 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. near together, and cross one another exactly at right angles, they are “decussate.” Let opposite leaves be sessile, and they will show a strong tendency to conjoin, forming more or less of a cup, when they are “connate,” as in the teasel, | above described. Upon the slopes I of dry limestone hills, and often upon sandy wastes near the sea, there grows a plant in which these very curious connate leaves form a kind of flat green plate, the stem appearing to pass through the centre. Hence it is well named Chlora perfoliata. Not only should this very charm- ing wild-flower be sought for the sake of its leaves; the pure gamboge yellow of the blossoms is almost unique, and, as in Some others of its lovely order (the Gentianaceae). the sensitiveness to the sunshine is most tender. Connate leaves likewise occur in the carnation and at the extremities of the twigs of the Italian honeysuckle. Some botanists consider that the term “opposite” should be applied only when the bases thus conjoin ; but in practical botany this rule could not possibly be observed. A very curious example of connate leaves occurs also in the Claytonia perfoliata, a little white-flowered annual from North-West America, which is now becoming naturalized in many parts of our own country. The most frequent and conspicuous examples of whorled or verticillate leaves occur in the little wild-flowers called Wood- Whorled ruff, Crosswort, and Lady's Bed- ** straw. In Woodruff, Asperida odorata, the narrow leaves are thrown out in whorls of eight. In Crosswort, Galium, Ch'uei- ata, there are invariably four; in the Bedstraws, which also belong to the genus Galium, the number varies from five to nine. Whether every one of these apparently genuine leaves is really and truly a leaf, bas not yet been settled. The members of the Galiaceae consti- tute, on the basis of their flowers and fruit, a peculiar outlying section of the great tropical Order named after the Cinchona ; and as that Order is remarkable for its opposite leaves and “interpetiolar ” stipules, it is thought that some of these seeming leaves of the Galiums may themselves be no more than stipules, inordi- nately enlarged. Whorled leaves of unusual magnitude occur in the order Apocynaceae, its beautiful representative in our hothouses, the yellow-flowered Allamanda, presenting a dis- tinguished example. Whorled leaves are seen also in some of the garden lilies ; and in the extremely pretty and attractive family which comprises the Trilliums of the North American woods, and the “Trulove,” Paris quadrifolia, of our own country, also a lover of the deepest Sylvan shades. Both in the Trilliums (culti- wated in good gardens), and in the Paris, the stem is perfectly simple, and quite bare for a Space upwards from the root of six or seven inches. Then, in the Trilliums, comes a whorl of three broad green leaves, and in the Paris a Whorl of four; the handsome and solitary blossom, white, purple or red in the trans- FIG. 60.—D E- C USSATE LEAVES. atlantics, green in the British plant, occupying the centre. Individual plants of the Paris produce Sometimes only three, and occasionally as many as five and even six leaves. The three large and leaf-like pieces on the flower- Stalk of the wood-anemone are not, it must here be noted, genuine leaves. Nor are the apparently whorled leaves of the Bauera and the Coreopsis verticillata, so called, to be mis- taken for such, the latter being in reality examples of two opposite and sessile three- lobed leaves. Effort has been made to determine the laws to which these various modes of leaf-arrange- ment may be referable. The result is found in the doctrine Phyllotaxy. of “Phyllotaxy,” as it is called, the funda- mental principle of the whole being that Nature, in the disposition of the leaves upon the stem, works upon precisely the same idea as that which is set forth so distinctly and elegantly in the common pine-cone; and, on a minor Scale, in the beautiful cone of the female hop ; not to mention the quasi-cones of many species of tropical palm, such as the Sagus and the Mauritia ; nor to mention, either, the very delicate repetition of the whole Series in the florets of the Rudbeckia and the ripening fruits of Chaucer's daisy. In every One of the flower and fruit arrangements men- tioned, the idea is the Spiral,—the same sweet old fashion which we have had in the twining stems of the convolvulus, the woodbine, and the Scarlet bean; which comes out again in many a seashell, and in human ringlets; and this idea, according to “Phyllotaxy,” governs the posi- tion of the leaves. Following alternate leaves up the stem, their sequence is clearly spiral. Through the non-development of internodes, they are brought closer and closer together ; and even when the entire mass of foliage is concentrated and condensed into the Tosulate form, as in the houseleek and the Echeverias, the spiral prototype is still distinguishable. The whole matter has been reduced to one of arithmetical exactitude ; and for those who love calculations and “fractions,” the deter- mination of the spirals, their continuity and intermixture, supplies abundance of curious entertainment. All three modes of leaf- arrangement are found in certain herbaceous plants, none disclosing this particular kind of playfulness more plainly than the common pyramidal Loosestrife, Lysimachia vulgaris, and the purple Lythrum of the waterside, in each of which very handsome wild-flowers, alternate, opposite, and whorled leaves may be found in near neighbourhood. Alternate and opposite leaves are also met with, side by side, in various species of Myrtaceae; and imperfectly, upon young shoots of the common ash-tree. The rule is, nevertheless, that there shall be uniformity, and in many of the largest natural orders the rule is never broken. In the Rosaceae the stem leaves are invariably alternate ; in the Gentianaceae they are in- variably opposite. CELEMISTRY. 359 sº *:: *::::A; 3 sº º sºº ºS Pºss C-: w sº & AY 3 ſº...º . .” - * * * -- * * * -- ºrgavidy is ęsº sº º - º * & sº º º:SººYº -º-º-º: - : Fºº - sº º º ºzº...º * * *.* * * C H MI ºs g :: Orº Ž - º: º - Q Bººk a pºs - º rº gº arº Šº: º º §º §§ :S gº wº Zººl. § §: TºSºlºš Yºº º/Jºº- º yº º SS Mº º º º º º,6 § º gº a. :*** - * * sº *** wrºsº." - * =sºº ºr e,, a dºs ~~ Bºzzº: #º º ºs tº: - º º --- - * * - sº. º a.º. º sº N E. º tº sº. gº # º º THE ELEMENTS (continued). Nitrogen Monoa;ide. THIS gas, which is colourless and inodorous, although possessing a sweet taste, is generally obtained by treating the salt known as ammo- nium nitrate. This salt decomposes on heating into nitrogen monoxide and water. The gas itself is best collected over warm water, being slightly soluble in that liquid when cold. Nitrogen monoxide can be liquefied by pressure or by exposure to a very low temperature, and if further cooled can be frozen or solidified into a transparent mass. By the rapid evapo- Tation of this gas in vacuo, an exceedingly low temperature can be produced: namely, -140° C. This intense degree of cold, which can thus be produced by artificial means in the laboratory of the chemist, is far below any that is ever met with in nature, even over the coldest portions of the earth's surface. A solid having this temperature could not be handled with impunity, while a liquid having this degree of cold would, if dropped on any exposed portion of the surface of the body, scald or burn the flesh like boiling oil, the sensation being in either case very similar. In asserting that nitrogen monoxide will support combustion, we shall doubtless appear ... ... to be enunciating a paradox, cºin having already insisted on the par... fact that it is only in the free Or uncombined state that O will support combustion. It will be understood, however, that there is in reality no contra- diction, when we say that for this to be possible the chemical action of the burning substance must be sufficiently powerful to dissolve the union that binds the N to the O in this com- pound gas, liberating the N and taking up the free O. Nitrous oxide, or nitrogen monoxide is now frequently employed as an anaesthetic in minor º Surgical operations, especially *ś dentistry. It is doubtless weil an anaesthetic, known to many of our readers by the name of “laughing-gas.” When taken into the lungs it produces a singular exhilara- tion of the spirits, although differing in its effects on different constitutions. Like all similar stimulants, it should be employed with due caution. The composition of this gas may be determined in the following manner:—The dry gas is allowed to pass up into a bent tube containing mercury, a small piece of the metal potassium having been previously introduced into the bent portion of the tube. On applying the flame of a spirit lamp to the outside of the tube, the potassium burns, taking up the O and of course liberating the N. On allowing the Evaporation of liquid nitrogen monoxide, tube to cool, it will be found that the volume of this gas remaining exactly coincides with that of the nitrous oxide originally introduced into the tube. We must therefore regard the specific gravity of a given volume of N as increased in the case of this compound gas by the weight of the O. But we know that this gas contains two volumes of N to one of O,-in other words, that 44 parts by weight contain 28 of N to 16 of O,-hence it will be seen that the weight of nitrous oxide as compared with N is as 14 to 22; its formula is therefore N.O. Mitrogen Dioacide, W,02. This compound may be formed by pouring nitric acid on copper shavings. Like the pre- ceding compound, nitric oxide is all j. Unlike it, how- i. g ever, it has never been liquefied . & * * * * * * * * gen dioxide, or solidified, nor will it support combustion except in extreme cases, that is to say, few substances burn with sufficient inten- sity to decompose this gas. Even phosphorus, with its strong affinity for O, is often extin- guished when burning brightly by being plunged into N2O2. This gas may therefore be regarded as having a strong or chemical consti- tution—that is to say, it is not to be decomposed so easily as N2O. The twofollowing oxides of N do not present features of sufficient interest to the general reader to need a special description. Both manifest themselves in the form of reddish- brown fumes. The former condenses to an indigo-blue coloured liquid; the latter may be crystallised at —9°C. into yellow prisms which fuse at a higher temperature into a yellow fluid. The trioxide forms a series of salts known as nitrites, which will be adverted to when speaking of the salts called nitrates. Nitrogen Pentoaxide, W,0s. This highly important compound is formed by passing dry chlorine gas over the salt known as silver nitrate. Silver chloride is formed, oxygen is given off, Preparation of and a white crystalline substance nitrogen pent- is produced, which is nitrogen oxide, pentoxide. This melts at + 30° C., and boils at +45°; it is an unstable compound, under- going decomposition very readily, and having a strong affinity for water. Whenever the crystals of N2O, are brought into contact with that liquid they unite with it with a hissing sound and the evolution of heat, and the result is the formation of nitric acid, which may therefore be regarded as nitrogen pentoxide and water; thus, N2O3 + H2O * * * * ºh,No. 3 #Nö, ionistic ** formula of nitric acid ; hence t N,0s is termed the anhydride, and HNOs the hydrate, of nitrogen pentoxide. Before pro- ceeding further, however, we must devote some space to a consideration of the constitution of those important compounds known in chemistry as acids and salts, ACIDS AND SALTS, The acids and the salts form, in themselves, such an exceedingly important class of chemical 36() THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTR UCTOR. compounds as to call for special consideration. At the same time it is very difficult to give any absolute definition of the true nature of these compounds, such as shall be applicable to the entire series of either class. All we can do is to givesour readers a general idea of the principles on which they are constituted. The hydrated acid is a liquid generally pos- sessing more or less of the taste we call acid or sour, and having the property of turning vegetable blue colours to red. Acids may be divided into two classes; those that Con- tain O, and those that according to which every acid may be regarded as water, H2O, in which one or more atoms of H* are replaced by an oxygenated group of atoms. In the case of nitric acid, which engages our special attention at present, H of H2O is replaced by NO, which gives us HNO3. This may be exhibited more clearly by the following * Ho - No, - HNo. Accepting this as a <º º hypothesis of the way sº Sº Nº. in which an acid is con- sº º - stituted, we are enabled * Y, gº to give a definition of / \ the constitution of a - % º º Salt by saying that it do not. The latter § is a compound in which class are the so-called /.2 \ Jº, the H of the acid is hydracids or hydrogen Wºº's §§§º replaced by a metal. acids, of which we do Š \X /\º SN In the case of nitric not propose to speak =. ‘ZZ; *::=/ % §º = \ acid, therefore, if we at present ; of these, Z sºlº = \, suppose the H of HNO, hydrochloric acid may 2% s' | to be replaced by the be instanced as a type, while nitric and Sul- phuric acids furnish us with examples of the former class. It is ap- parent, therefore, that the assumption that O, as its name indicates, is the acid producer or acidifying principle, does not rest on any reliable basis, inasmuch as there is a class of acids into whose constitution this element does not enter. The whole of the oxygen acids, or oxy-acids, the class we now propose to consider, contain the element hy- drogen united to Some other element or elements in chemic a 1 combin a - tion with O. In the case of ni- tric acid the group of atoms N2O3, or pentox- ide, is desig- nated the anhydrate, and when combined with the elements of water the hydrate : thus N2O4–H H,0=HNO, or liquid nitric acid. This doubt- less represents the true constitution of an acid. We know that the compound N2O3 combines with great avidity with water, and that the result is the compound HNO3. To exhibit tº g g & more clearly the relation be- Constitutional tween acids and salts, and the *:: * manner in which the salt is 3,0101S, formed from the acid, it is found convenient to employ a hypothetical formula The oxy-acids, SIMPLE METHOD OF INEIALING LAU GEIING GAS. IZXPERIMENT TO OBTAIN NITRIC ACID. ſ metal potassium, the symbol of which is K, we have KNO3 as the formula of the salt potassium nitrate, com- monly known as Saltpetre. Regarding a salt, therefore, as an acid in which the H is replaced by a metal, many chemists, accepting the fact of the metallic nature of H, refuse to recognise any distinction between the acid and the salt, and term HNO3the hydrogen salt and KNO, the potassium Salt of the same compound, apply- ing the designation hydrogen nitrate to the One and potassium nitrate to the other. The m et a l l ic sºft||| Hº compound | | Of the salt is known as the base, a n d the term basic Oxides is ap- plied to such compounds as soda and p O t, a S h , º which com- bine with the e1 e - ments of the oxy-acids to form salts. It will be IſlC) re COIl- venient for the present to defer a further consideration of the compounds known as salts until we come to speak of the metals. Bearing in mind the fact that there are com- pounds of N with O, the reader will probably ask whether any other of these compounds unites with water to form an acid. One of * When more than one atom of H is replaced, we must conceive the existence of more than one molecule of water. NaO, KO, | & \ CHEMISTRY. 361 them, the third of the series, the trioxide (N, O,), also known as nitrous acid, obeys the same law as the pentoxide, and forms the com- pound known as nitrous acid. It behoves us, therefore, here to point out the difference that exists between those compounds of an ele- ment with O, whose names are distin- guished by the ter- minations “ous” and “ic.” The former Of these terminals is employed to desig- nate that compound which contains less of O than the latter. Thus, when the tri- oxide (N2O3) unites with the elements of water to form an acid, the result is HNO, or nitrous acid, while the pentoxide (N2O), or nitric OX- ide, forms, under similar circum- stances, the com- pound known as nitric acid. Salts are distinguished in like manner by the syllables “ite” and “ate” being affixed The terms to their names. If the H of the nitrites and compound HNO, be replaced by nitrates, a metal, the resulting salt is known as a nitrite, while the salt of nitric acid is known as a nitrate. Our readers are doubtless all well acquainted with those powerful alkaline compounds known as the bicarbonate of Soda and potash. If a certain por- tion of either of the above- named Sub- stances be introduced into an acid, a violent ef- fervescence ensues. The alkali is dis- solved in the liquid, and the latter loses its acid taste and be- comes what is termed neutral. The bicar b O n - at e S 3, I’ (2 ther efore Often em- * * * ployed to correct the acidity of beer and other beverages that have a tendency to be- come hard or sour. These, and other less powerful alkalies, are also employed medici- inally, to correct the acidity formed in the º § § § § § #sº | #. *}| ### #šš :----> --> ------------- t-:---- - - - - .../A//Ad////EAL ||||||||||||||ſtilllllllllliſDIIITſilhºllſ BLOWING BUIBIBLES WITH HIYDRO GEN GAS. \ -N sº | §§ §§§lºitſ EXPERIMENTS WITH SULPEIU RIC ACID. system; but they should be employed with due caution, as too liberal a use may be attended with effects highly prejudicial to health. Let us now endeavour to explain the nature of the chemical action which takes place when either of the above-men- tioned substances is brought into contact with an acid. The bicarbonate of soda and potash are, as their name indicates, carbon salts of the metals sodium and potassium—that is to Say, the oxides of these metals in che- mical combination with carbonic acid. When brought into contact with any acid for which the base has a stronger af- finity than it, has for the carbonic acid, their union is dis- Solved. The base— that is, the oxide of Na or K–parts com- pany with the car- bonic acid and unites with the more power- ful acid, forming a new salt, and the latter portion of the compound is liberated in the form of a gas, giving rise to the efferves- cence. Let us, by way of example, suppose that we mix a sufficient quantity of bicar- bonate of potash with vinegar to neutralize its acid taste. What has actually taken place 7 The basic oxide KO having a stronger affinity for the acetic acid of the vinegar than it has for the CO, with which it is bound up, the latter is liberated with effer- vescence in the form of a gas, and the result is the forma- tion of a salt, potassium a c e t a te, which is illiſilliºſills A. ;sº ; i : § held in solu- tion by the liquid. We are now in a position to explain the nature of the rea c t i on which takes place when we pour diluted sulphu- ric acid on zinc shavings or granulated zinc, as described under the head of Hydrogen. Sul- phuric acid, whose exact constitution will be described in due course, is a compound of hy- 362 THE UNIVERSAI, INSTRUCTOR, drogen, Sulphur and oxygen. The sulphur and oxygen unite with the metal to ***** form a salt.—zinc sulphate—and of hydrogen, - * * the hydrogen is liberated. We believe that in practice it is better to use hydro- chloric than sulphuric acid; but we prefer to speak of the reaction that takes place in the case of the latter compound, as we have not yet given any description of the hydracids and their salts. Here we have an illustration of the formation of a salt in accordance with the hypothetical formula which regards the salt as an acid in which the H is replaced by a metal. Salts, however, if we come to regard the manner of their actual constitution, ought in most cases, no doubt, to be regarded as produced by the combination of certain hydroxides and oxides with the acids. Thus, if a solution of potassium hydroxide (caustic potash), which is the result of the combustion of the metal potassium in water, is mixed with nitric acid, the alkaline taste of the one and the acid taste of the other both disappear at a certain point, and the Salt potassium nitrate will be found in the liquid. Nitric acid, as well as other less powerful acids, readily part with a portion of their oxygen when in contact with metals, thus giving rise to oxides. The former powerful acid, known to jewellers as aqua-fortis, attacks or oxidises the whole of the metals we have enumerated in the list given, with the exception of gold and platinum. If we cut a lemon Oxidation of with a knife we know how soon mºy the steel is blackened by the formation of Oxide of iron. If we hold a silver spoon over the fumes of burning sulphur it is likewise blackened, but this is not from the formation of an oxide but a sulphide, a compound belonging to a class of substances of which it is not yet the place to Speak. AVitric Acid. This powerful acid, whose formula is N,0. for the anhydride and HNO3 for the hydride or hydrated acid, is generally prepared in the laboratory by the decomposition of one of its Salts, nitre or potassium nitrate, the formula of which is KNO3, by sulphuric acid. The metallic base having a stronger affinity for the latter than for the compound with which it is actually in union, unites with it to form P tion of potassium sulphate, and the nitric ...” acid is liberated. Here it will be seen that we have the conversion in the one case of an acid into a salt, and in the other the conversion of a salt into an acid. For this purpose about equal weights of nitric and sulphuric acid are introduced into a glass-stoppered retort, and subject to heat. The nitric acid distils over, and may be col- lected in a flask cooled with water. The nitric acid thus obtained is represented by the formula HNO3, is a colourless liquid when pure, but generally slightly yellow from the presense of lower oxide of nitrogen. compound be mixed with water and distilled, the acid thus obtained is found at last to attain a fixed composition, boiling at about 120°, with a specific gravity nearly half as great again as that of water. If this . THE ADJECTIVE (continued).—APPLICATION. EXERCISE XXI. Apply the rules on the plural for simple and compound Nouns and Adjectives :— 1. Il n'y a guère de petit-maître sans affecta- tion, ni de petite-maîtresse sans afféterie (Dide- rot). 2. Un des revenant-bon de mon metier d’homme de lettres, c'est que chaque année on m’a imputé quelque ouvrage ou bien imperti- nent ou bien Scandaleux (Voltaire). 3. Le roi leur envoya des blanc-Seing qui le rendaient en quelque Sorte présent lui-même (Mignet). 4. Et les chauve-souris que tout sabbat réclame, volaient et par moments €pouvantaient la flamme de leur grande aile aux ongle noir (W. Hugo). 5. On nous traite partout comme des loup-garow (Voltaire). 6. Il est un des are- boutant de la tyrannie du siècle (Guy-Patin). 7. Le grand défaut de presque tous ceux qui gouverment est de n'avoir que des demi-volonté et des demi-moyen (Voltaire). 8. La vue d'un tiercelet planant dans les air met en émoi les basse-cou?'. 9. Des gerbes étoilées de reine- marguerite éclataient comme les bouquets d'un feu d'artifice (W. Hugo). 10. Les reine-Claude Sont aussi connue Sous les nom de cente-bonne et d’abricot vert. 11. Les aigue-marine sont des pierre précieuse qui ont des reflet vert semblable à l'eau de mer. 12. Louis XII revendiquait le duché de Milan, parce qu'il comptait parmi ses grand'mère une Soeur d'un Visconti, leguel avait eu cette principauté. [Translation of the above phrases.—1. There are hardly any dandies without unnaturalness, nor any of their female congeners (), without affectation. 2. One of the profits of my literary career has been that every year some work either very silly or very scandalous has been attributed to me. 3. The king sent them blank orders which in a way made him almost pre- sent himself. 4. And the bats, which every meeting of witches demands, were flying, and now and then frightened the flame with their large black-hooked wings. 5. We are everywhere treated as were-wolves. 6. He is one of the buttresses of the age’s tyranny. 7. The great fault of almost all those who rule is to possess only a faint will and feeble mental capacity. 8. The sight of a hawk (strictly, a fiercelet is any male bird of prey, usually one-third smaller than the female), hovering in the air, causes great flutter in the hen-yards. 9. Starry clusters of asters were burst- ing on the view like the sheaves of fireworks. 10. Greengages are also known under the names of — and of -—. 11. Beryls are gems which have green flashes, like the sea-water. 12. Louis XII. was claim- ing the Milanese, because he reckoned among his maternal ancestors the sister of a Visconti, who had possessed that principality.] THEORY (resumed). 1. FORMATION OF THE FEMININE. —The general rule, which we shall give later on, has many exceptions. (a) Adjectives ending in e mute do not change when they qualify a feminine noun or pronoun; they are common to both genders : JFRENCEI GRAMMA.R. 363 wn homme sensible, a feeling man, une femme sensible, a feeling woman ; Henri est un enfant sage, Henry is a good child, Henriette est une enfant sage, Henrietta is a good child. Note that adjectives—and this is applicable in every instance to past participles used adjectively—which end in é follow the general rule : un garçon sensé, a Sensible boy, une fille sensée, a sensible girl ; un caractère posé, a steady disposition, une nature posée, des lettres cachetées, sealed letters. (b) Those in er follow the general rule, but as in adding e they would present two con- secutive mute syllables, a grave accent is placed on the penultimate e : ºn reproche amer, a bitter reproach, wºme plainte amère, a bitter complaint. (The masc. amer is pro- nounced as the feminine, a-mê7.) (c) Those in gu follow the general rule, but as in adding e the original sound of gnt would be destroyed, a diaeresis is placed upon the e mute; this bas the effect of leaving to at and e their respective character (cf. § 7, p. 57): un son aigu, a sharp sound ; tıne voir aiguë, a shrill voice. Thus the feminine of ai-gu does not become aigh'. (d) Those in f change it into ve: poussif, short-breathed, poussive. In braf and brief, both meaning short, the feminine takes an addi- tional grave accent for the same reason as that stated in (b) : brève, briève. These two have one adverbial form in common—brèvement, briefly. (e) Those in a change it into se : heureºla, happy, heureuse ; jaloua, jealous, jalouse. For etymological reasons, five adjectives in a form their feminine on other lines. They are : doux, sweet, douce, from Latin dºlcis faux, false, fausse , , ,, falsits; roux, russet, rousse, , ,, russw8; préfix, profired, préfixe, from Latin prºfirits ; vieux, old, vieillé, from Fr. vieil, , vetus; whereas the termination eua, and the much rarer owz, come from an affix derived from Lat. osus (full of). (f) Adjectives ending in el, eil, ión, on, and et, double the last consonant and add 6 mute : naturel, natural, naturelle; vermeil, ruddy, vermeille; ancien, ancient, ancienne : bon, good, bonne; muet, dumb, mºlette. Seven adjectives in et, however—complet, incomplet, discret, indiscret, inquiet, replet, and secret- add e mute and place a grave accent on the penultimate e : complète, incomplète, etc. .. (g) Here is a list of adjectives which like- wise double the final consonant before the e mute of the feminine : bas, low, basse bellot, prettyish, bellotte épais, thick, 6paisse exprès, eacpress, expresse gentil, mice, gentille gras, fat, grasse gros, big, grOSSe (h) The adjectives beau, fine ; , noureat!, new ; fou, foolish ; mou, soft, form their femi- nines, belle, nouvelle, folle, mollé, from the masculines bel, nouvel, fol, mol, which are used before a vowel or h mute : as, bel arbre, fine tree; nouvel an, new year ; fol amou”, foolish love; mol &dredon, soft eider-down. Pºova: las, tired, lasse nul, void, nulle paysan, rustic, paysanne profes, professed, professe sot, silly, sotte vieillot, oldish, vieillotte has also the form vieil : thus, viewa, ami, or ańeil ami, old friend. Jumeau, twin, makes, ăumelle. Femarks.-1. The two past participles absous, absolved, and dissous, dissolved, make their feminine absolute. dissoute. 2. All other adjectives in s and t follow the general rule : mauvais, bad, mauvaise ; surpris, surprised, surprise ; prêt, ready, préte ; mat, dull, mate ; confit, pickled, confite ; etc. 2. FORMATION OF THE PLURAL IN COM- Pound No UNS. (Continued from page 303.) Second Rule.—When a compound is formed of two nouns joined by a preposition, the former alone takes the plural : arc-en-Ciel, rainbow arcs-en-ciel chef-d'oeuvre, masterpiece chefs-d'oeuvre eau-de-vie, brandy eaux-de-vie pot-de-vin, perquisites pots-de-vin From this rule must be excepted the following, which are spelt alike in both numbers: coq-à- l’āne, disconnected narratives or cock-and-buli stories ; pied-à-terre, temporary lodgings or house of call; pot-au-feu, soup and boiled beef ; tāte-à-tête, interview of two persons ; vol-au-vent (the etymology of vol being voler, to fly, this noun might be brought, as an ex- ception, under the next rule, were it not that vol has assumed the appearance of a noun , vole, a verb, would have been more correct), puff-paste filled with meat or fish. Third Rule.—When one of the components is a noun, and the other an uninflected word such as an adverb or preposition, the Inoun alone takes the sign of the plural. contre-allée, sidewalk . * contre-allées, [and all formed with contre.] avant-coureur, forerummer º [and all formed with avant.] arrière-pensée, back thought arrière-pensées, [and all formed with arrière, when the plural is used at all.] après-diner, afternoon . e après-diners, [and the other two compounds with après.] sous-maître, undermaster . e . Sous-maitres, [and all compounds with sows.] vice-amiral, vice-admiral . - [and all compounds with vice.] en-tête, heading . e - º en-têtes, [the other compound with en is en-cas.] entre-ligme, space between two lines . entre-lignes, [the other two compounds with entre left, viz. cntre-mapud and entre-temps, follow rule.] sans-culotte, revolutionist of 1793 sans-Culottes, [sans-dent, old dame, follows this rule ; but sans- fleur, a species of apple, and sans-peau, a species of pear, are both invariable.] non-Waleur, non-effective non-valeurs, [with the exception of non-sens, a contradiction in terms, the compounds with non are not likely to appear in the plural.] rez-de-chaussée, groundfloor rez-de-chaussée [No example of plural given in the Academy’s or M. Littré's dictionaries; but the sense of chaussée here does not admit of its being put into the plural : des rez-de-chaussée are floors on a leveſ . (rez) with the street (chaussée).] avant-coureurs, vice-amiraux, Fourth Rule.—When one of the components is a verb and the other a noun, the latter alone may be inflected. On this, the most difficult point connected with the subject, our leading authorities differ. Following the dicta of the Academy, we observe that the rule deals with two sets of compounds—the cases where to the substantive in combination there may really be attached an idea of plurality, and the cases 364 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. where the original number of the compounded substantive, be it singular or plural, cannot be modified, on account of the elliptical character of the expression. That is the general prin- ciple, but unfortunately it is not so rigorously applied as the schoolmaster might wish. Cambrian because they are well There are eight cases in which garde is a verb, and remains invariable : wnsaleable \ sº garde-boutique, article, garde-boutique shopkeeper, j garde-feu, firegward, garde-fou, railing, garde-manche, over-sleeve, garde-manger, meat-safe, garde-meuble, lumber-room, ſ wardrobe, l pinafore garde-robe, oiorifºrous garde-robes plants, garde-Vue, screen, 8hade, garde-vue (L.) JFifth Rule.—Compounds which consist of verbs and uninflected words only remain unchanged, as they all offer an elliptical con- struction : un gagne-petit (petit = peu), an itinerant knife-grinder ; un passe-partout, a master-key, des passe-passe, tricks, un pince- sans-7'ire, a smooth-faced hypocrite ; un out- dire, hearsay ; atm on dit, a report ; le or leg qu'en dira-t-on, what Mrs. Grundy will say; etc. garde-feu (L. Opt.) garde-fous garde-manche (L. Opt.) garde-manger garde-meubles ºzº-sººººººººººººººº; fº º º §§§º - & ºść Yº-a CAMBRIAN AND LOWER SILURIAN ROCKS. WE have already seen that the oldest rocks in Great Britain are to be found principally in the north-west of Scotland and in Wales. The next in Order of succession occur in the same districts and in Ireland, and are designated Cambrian and Lower Silurian rocks, shown in Wales. These are suc- ceeded by the Lower Silurian strata, which are also well seen in the Principality, hence the name.* The various subdivisions of these systems are given in the preceding table (p.290), but geologists are not agreed as to how many of them should be designated Cambrian and how many should be included under the term Silurian. From a geological point of view the question is not worth discussing. In its origin the difference was purely personal ; and in consequence it will probably be some time before a settle. ment is arrived at. The reader must therefore bear in mind that some writers, following the late Professor Sedgwick, include the whole of the Lower Silurian formations under the desig- nation Cambrian ; others, with Sir Charles Lyell, make the division between the Silurian and Cambrian so as to include the Tremadoc slates and Lingula flags in the Upper Cam- brian; others again draw the line above the Menevian beds; and the Geological Survey, following the late Sir R. Murchison, make the divisions as we have given them in the table. It is estimated that the Cambrian and Lower Silurian rocks together are at least 30,000 feet in thickness sº in Wales. Supposing, there- i. fore, they were shown one above another as originally deposited, it would be Casse-noisette, mwt-crackers Chausse-pied, shoe-horn Coupe-jarret, cut-throat Cure-dent, tooth-pick fesse-mathieu, wsurer gagne-denier, labourer passe-cheval, ferry-boat passe-droit, wrong favour passe-rose, hollyhock passe-volant, substitute Serre-frein, brake-man Serre-file, last file of an order serre-files tire-balle, bullet-drawer tire-balles [Of tire-bouchon, -botte, -ligne, -pied, the Academy gives no plural example, while M. Littré , recommends the addition of the s, which is cer- tainly the practice.] Remark I.-The following are spelt alike in both Inumbers: abatºjour, abat-vent, abaf-voic; brise-glace, brise-lames ; cache-nez ; casse-cow, casse-tete ; chasse-marée, chasse-cousin, chasse-mouches ; coupe-gorge ; essuie-main (A. no opinion, L. option); gagne-pain; adte-enfamt (do.); gobe-mouches; passe-pierre (do.); rabaf-joie ; serre-papiers, serre-féte; tire-bow're, tire-d'aile, tire-moelle ; trouble- fête ; va-mu-pieds. Ičemark II.—The Académie gives forty-five com - pounds with porte; of these eight are now joined and give no more trouble: porteballe, portechappe, porte- chour, portecollet, portecrayon, portefair, portefeuille, portemanteau. Nine have always the noun-component in the plural: porte-allumettes, -barres, -cigares, -clefs, -étriers, -étrivières, -liqueurs, -mouchettes, -vis. Of the remaining, twenty-six have the noun-com- ponent in tº e singular: porte-aiguille, arquebuse, bag wette, carabine, croia, crosse, Diew, drapeau, enseigne, 6pée, 6tendard, fer, hache, malheur, monnaie, nontre (in another acceptation montres), mors, mousqueton, page, press”, respect, tapisserie, vent, verge, voic. About the whole of the foregoing, the A. emphatically says that they do not take the sign of the plural, and M. L. as emphatically says that the sign of the plural affixed to the nouns in question is permissible. On the plural porte-plume, penholder, and porte-trait, strap bearing traces, the A. is silent, and M. L. suggests option. Porte-plume, being such an everyday term, should long ago have followed the example of portecrayon 1 The plurals porte-plumes and porte-traits are recom- mended. IRemark III.-In the compounds of garde, distinguish Where garde means a keeper, and is thus a noun, and where it is a part of the verb garder, to keep. As this is not easily done, we meet the difficulty by giving all the compounds of garde, mentioned in the A.’s dic- tionary. Of the sixteen compounds in which garde is a noun, nine belong to extinct institutions: garde- bourgeoise, garde-noble, garde-marine (gardes-marine), garde-marteau, garde-note, garde-cóte, garde-scel (gardes- scel), garde-sac, garde-vaisselle (gardes-vaisselle). Put the sign of the plural to both terms in each of these, with the exceptions given in brackets. Seven of the compounds, in which garde is a noun, refer to modern institutions: garde-barrière, crossing-keeper garde-cóte, coastguard garde-chasse, gamekeeper garde-étalon, stallion keeper garde-malade, nurse garde-pêche, river bailiff gardes-pêche garde-vente, wood factor gardes-vente In most of the above cases the A. and M. L. do not seem to have made up their minds; we follow º the opinion of the lexicographer Laveawa (1749- 827). Casse-noisettes chausse-pieds (L.) * Coupe-jarrets Cure-dents fesse-mathieux gagne-deniers passe-chevaux (L.) passe-droits passe-roses (L.) passe-volants serre-freins gardes-barrières gardes-Côtes gardes-chasse gardes-Étalons gardes-malades * Where this L. appears, the Academy gives no example, and we follow M. Littré’s rule—which is the common. One. * Named after a tribe of Ancient Britons—the Silures. GEO LOGY. 365 very difficult if not absolutely impossible to examine them. As a matter of fact, in the districts referred to they have been thrown into curves and so disposed that they may be inspected readily enough. A very interesting and instructive series of sections occurs at Llamberis from the base of the Cambrian to the Bala beds of the Lower Silurian system, and may be all examined in regular order with no greater fatigue than is involved in the ascent of Snowdon, which from the Llanberis side is but trifling. The visitor to Llanberis has the advantage, as in other parts of North Wales, of being in a position to study some of the later as well as the older geological phenomena. Rounded and scratched bosses of rock—deep Scorings at a height of from eleven to thirteen hundred feet above the roadway, “perched blocks” (that is, blocks of stone perched on inaccessible ledges where it was impossible for them to have been placed by any other agency than melting Snow and ice), mud with iceworn pebbles and scratched stones, indicating the former existence of glaciers—all tell of that comparatively recent period when the pass SS ğ / º § \}< ~~~ OLDHAMIA ANTIQUA. | (nat. size). was filled with a great “ice river,” which, moving slowly on its way, ground and Scratched its rocky channel, and of somewhat later times, when smaller glaciers made their way from the Summit of Snowdon and left their “ter- minal moraines" in the pass to testify to their former existence ; while the two lakes, which lie in true rock basins, add their testimony to the former presence of the ice, by whose powerful agency they were scooped out. The visitor who wishes to examine those older features with which we have to do should keep on the S.W. side of the pass, and turning to the left hand as he leaves the railway station, make his way to the Glyn slate quarries, near which he will come upon a mass of “quartz porphyry.” Whether this rock is Cambrian or pre-Cambria, is at present an undecided question ; but retracing our steps, we take the Cambrian grits and Conglomerates, which come next to them, as our starting-point. The con- glomerate is full of pebbles formed out of older rocks; the “grit" is a hard rock made up principally of fragments of quartz and felspal. Next to these we find beds of slate about 140 feet thick; succeeding these are more “grits.” Then come about 400 feet of blue and purple Cambrian grits, slates," etc. *- slate, followed by a great mass of “grit” about 1300 feet in thickness. If now we turn down by the Victoria hotel, we shall find, when we strike the pathway up Snowdon, that we have come upon an entirely different kind of rock. This is known by the name of Lingula (or Lingulella) flags—so called because here and in some other places it is very much jointed, and breaks up into flaggy masses, and also contains, when fossiliferous, a shell known as the Lingula (or Lingulella) Davisii. We next cross a mass of grey slaty rock belonging to the Llandeilo beds, showing in places patches of intrusive eruptive rocks. After these come the beds which form the uppermost part of the mountain, as repre- sented in the annexed diagram, and belong to the Bala or Caradoc series, which here are evidently formed of volcanic ash and cinder. These are in places fossiliferous. Amongst the finer ash and in the coarser beds impressions of a characteristic shell, the orthis flabellula, is not uncommon, and we thus learn that the ashes were originally spread out at the sea Ascent of Snowdon, ~ a % Rººs-º/22.2%: 2% *Tºº?.23% w - ---- - -,--~~~~ * SA *>g fºr. % \ , Wºś2:22: Wºź. º SECTION ACROSS THE TOP OF SNOW DON. A, Fossiliferous grits (Bala series) ; B, Greenstone (intrusive); C, Porphyry; D, Volcanic ashes, sometimes calcareous and fossiliferous Bala limestone. bottom. The points at which the eruptions took place are of course mot to be ascertained. Standing on the summit of Snowdon, the observer is in a position to understand some- thing of what he has seen. As he looks round upon the rocky scenery spread out before his gaze, he may realize the fact that Snowdon is not an isolated mountain, formed like a volcano, for instance, but simply the highest peak of a large mountain mass which covers the district, and has been carved into heights and valleys in the course of time which stretches out in retrospect beyond our power to comprehend, even if we could express it in figures. Calling to mind the Scandinavian range, which borders Sweden and Norway, as represented in physical maps, he will have no difficulty in understand- ing that the Highlands of Scotland and the rocks of Snowdonia are only outlying portions of the same range; and then turning his atten- tion to the distinguishing features of the rocks which he has examined in his walk through the pass, he will perceive that they tell of varying conditions of land and sea during their formation. The “conglomerates” could scarcely have been laid down far from the shore ; the “grits” were probably formed at no great View from the summit, 366 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCT'() {8. depth; the slates were originally clayey de- posits laid down in deeper waters; and these again, as we have seen, were followed by beds which indicate shallower conditions, and so on, including the outbursts of volcanic eruption giving rise to the ash and cinder on which he stands. The visitor to Llanberis may well be im- pressed with the grandeur of these records of e Cambrian and Lower Silurian º º times, but if he confines his O º * studies to the locality, he will tº gain, after all, but a poor idea of the various formations which make up these ancient systems. The Cambrian rocks form the Longmynd hills in Shropshire, and they are present in great thickness in St. Bride's Bay in Pembrokeshire, where also the Mene- vian beds, a series of “black and grey slates and flags, with thick beds of Sandstone, under- lie the Lingula flags.” **: *::: º § º 5. § É ETYMOLOGY: Classification of Words. . IV. The Verb. . The Simple Sentence : Subject and Predicate. . Verbs Transitive. . Verbs Intransitive. . Active and Passive Voice. . The Passive Participle. . The Present Participle. . Impersonal verbs. . Auxiliary verbs. Table of Verbs. § 80. IV. We have now got the woun, the principal notion, with the words that group themselves round it, the pronoun, that will stand for it in case of need; and the adjective, that performs the various functions of finger- post or of owner, and of scene-painter and describer to the noun or its representative. If we proceed to take a sentence and try how these words stand, we find that they are not enough to give a whole thought. “A good man '': here we have adjective and noun, but nothing to express action or existence ; it is not a sentence, or that which gives the sense of a complete thought. We want those words which show the very essence of life, its activity, the being and doing. “A good man prays": here we have a word which tells us what the noun is doing ; prays is a Verb. Put it another way, “the man is good; ” the word is expresses the notion that “the man’’ is alive or exists, while what is to be said of him comes after. “Is” is a verb. In “I am,” “we mere,” “apples are sweet,” the words am, ºvere, are, all indi- cate the same great notion of existence, In “John runs,” “rain falls,” there is not only the notion of existence, but the notion of a definite action ; runs and falls are also verbs. A Werb, then, is a mord ovhich tells or asserts doing or being. $ 81. Nouns may be compared to the bones in a body, adjectives to the flesh which clothes i –- them, but the verbs are the living spirit which animates the whole. A verb is the essential pivot on which every sentence turns, whence it has the ancient name, the word (Lat. verbum), the chief of all words. For every sentence or thought must have two leading notions: first, the Subject or agent, the thing thought about ; Second, that which is thought concerning the Subject's action, condition, or existence ; this is called the Predicate. In analysing our Speech,--that is, in taking it to pieces to find the logical relation of the parts one to another, —these are the two main things to be attended to. By what do we express the Subject and the Predicate 7 The Subject by a noun or its representative ; the Predicate by a verb, or a verb and the word necessary to complete it. For example, “John runs”: John is the sub- ject, runs the predicate; “apples are sweet”: apples is the subject, are smeet the predicate, the adjective Smeet being added to show what is said of the subject, for the verb are cannot usually make a predicate by itself (are, is, nyere, all parts of the verb named to be). The verb to be can only form the predicate when it is intended merely to express the notion of exist- ence, as “God said, I am.” Werbs are of two kinds, Transitive and In- transitive. $ 82. Transitive (Lat. transitus) means pass- ing over; a transitive verb is one which expresses the passing of an action from the subject to something or somebody else, as “John cuts a cake,” “I break my leg.” Here the sense of the verb is not complete without an object. “John cuts” would be meaningless : what does he cut 7 a cake; and who is it that cuts 7 John. The word “cuts,” then, shows that the action passes directly from “John ” to the “cake.” “John ” is called the agent of the verb, “cake” the object, “cuts” a transitive verb. Again, if we say “the cake is cut by John,” we still have an action which passes from one to the other ; the verb is transitive, but the object “cake,” which suffers, is placed foremost, instead of the agent “John.” In other words, a transitive verb shows that something is done, or some- thing suffered: by the active I do something to Somebody, by the passive something is done to me. Examples: “Thomas struck John”; “You zead a book”; “Mary myrote a letter which mas read by Sarah’”; “The cat n'as dronymed by Sam.” The words “was read" tell us what was done to the letter; the words “was drowned ” what was done to the cat : we take the two together as one verb; the reason of this will be explained presently. A transitive verb, therefore, requires an object. § 83. Intransitive verbs are those which merely state an action ; the agent does some- thing, and the sense is complete in itself; nothing of the action passes to anything else: “I run, the child sleeps, rain falls.” We cannot say that the child sleeps anything, nor could we get any sense by the words “the child is slept”: the verb sleeps is intransitive; its sense is complete in itself and the agent child. Wo intransitive verb, therefore, takes an object after it. An apparent exception to this general rule is where JºWGLISH G RAMMAR. 367 a noun formed from the same notion as the verb follows it : , “Let him die the death.”; “She sleeps the sleep of the righteous”; “Ye all live loathsome, sneaking, servile lives” (Otway); “She wept a tear.” Here, in fact, the intransitive verb is turned into a transitive one for the time, because its action creates an object. § 84. It will have been noticed by the student that the Transitive verbs appear in two forms. If we can say “Thomas m'hipped John,” we can also say “John was myhipped by Thomas,” thus stating the same fact, but giving more promi- nence to the sufferer; the object of the active verb is put first, and becomes the subject, and the shape of the verb is altered. In the first case of direct action it is a transitive verb of the Active Voice; in the second, in which the action is borne or suffered, it is said to be in the Passive Voice (Lat. pation, I suffer). This passive use of the verb, with which the object acted upon is the foremost idea, often to the Sup- pression of the active subject, as in the sentence “that window is broken,” gives so different a turn and force to the Sentence that the passive verb is recognized by a form peculiar to itself. In synthetical languages like Latin and Greek this form is indicated by inflexions—e.g., active, amo, I love; regunt, they rule : passive, amor, I am loved ; reguntur, they are ruled. In English we have no inflexions for the passive, and we are therefore obliged to employ another verb to help out the sense; the verb to be is used as an auxiliary, together with a participle of the verb which is to give the main idea. Thus, in the sentence “that window is broken,” the two notions are ºvindom (noun) and to break (verb). In saying “the window is broken,” we do not think of the auxiliary is, but of broken ; this part of the verb, having SO important a function, is called the Passive Participle. $ 85. The Participle, from the Latin partici- pium, sharing, is so named because it partakes of the nature of an adjective as well as of a verb. As an adjective it qualifies a noun ; as a verb it governs an objective case—that is, it acts upon an object. In the sentence above given, broken is clearly seen to be part of a verb ; in “The broken teacups, wisely ranged for show,” it is as plainly seen to be an adjective, showing what sort of teacups they were. The passive participle, too, resembles an adjective in pos- sessing the power to complete a predicate : in saying “sugar is smect,” we know that sweet is an adjective necessary to fulfil the verbal idea that sugar is in that condition, but cannot be a verb by itself; if we say “sugar is boiled,” the words are linked together by the same verb is (called in these cases the copula), but we know that the word boiled has so much of the verbal sense that we feel sugar is acted on, with is it makes a passive verb ; while in “give me some boiled sugar,” it is clearly again used as an ad- jective. The example, “every floor is rotten,” on the other hand, shows us an instance of a word most commonly used as an adjective (“a rotten apple”), but which really is a passive participle, coming from the verb to rot The passive participle is very often called the Past Participle. Used as an adjective, it contains the Sense of past action,-‘‘a broken window” signifies that the window has been broken; but used as part of the passive verb, the sense of time depends on the auxiliary to be. “I am loved ’’ means the present ; “they were loved ’’ means the past; “we shall be loved ” Imeans £he future ; but in all three the word “loved ” remains the same ; it does not bring any sense of past time into the present or the future. The name Passive Participle is therefore more correct than past participle. This applies only to transitive verbs. The participle ending in en or ed of intransitive verbs is rightly called past, as it is used to indi- cate past time—“he has risen,”—and cannot be used in a passive sense, intransitive verbs having no passive voice. §.86. Besides the Passive, there is the Present F'articiple of the verb, ending in ing, which has an active sense—“she is myriting a letter”; this must be carefully distinguished from the noun in ing (called the verbal noun)—“she brought a myriting.” The present participle, like the passive, is also used as an adjective. Both participles, when coming from intransitive verbs, are sometimes used in an absolute way— so called because the word stands without any bearing on other words in the sentence; it only belongs to its noun nominative, as “the wind rising, a storm came up; ” “I going down, he came to meet me ;” “all said and done, you cannot be sorry.” The following lines give examples of the use as adjective, noun, and participle absolute — “To each unthinking being, Heaven, a friend, Gives not the useless knowledge of its end : The hour conceal’d, and so remote the fear, Death still draws nearer, never seeming near. Great standing miracle ! that Heaven assign'd Its only thinking thing this turn of mind.” Pope, “Essay on Man,” Ep. III. § 87. The greater part of verbs range them- selves under the two classes of Transitive and Intransitive ; there are, however, two other sets, one of which, though it contains few in number, is of not less importance than these in daily speech. These are the Impersonal and the Awaziliary verbs. Impersonal verbs are those which have no- thing for a subject but the pronoun it, in the third person, the noun being altogether want- ing ; as it seems, me-thinks (i.e. it thinks me), me seems (i.e. it seems to me), it smon's, it hails, etc. “It rains, and the wind is never weary.” § 88. The Auxiliary verbs are most important as helps to express the various conditions and relations of other verbs. One instance has come under notice in the case of the passive verbs, which are expressed by aid of the verb to be. The auxiliaries are may (and might), can (could), shall (should), one (ought), mill (would), dare (durst), do (did), must, let, have, be. Many of these are employed in Bunyan's lines, “The Pilgrim " :— “Who would true valour See, Let him come hither; One here will constant be, Come wind, come weather. There's no discouragement Shall make him once relent His first avow’d intent To be a Pilgrim. 368 THE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Whoso beset him round With dismal stories, I}o but themselves confound,- His strength the more is. No lion can him fright, He’ll with a giant fight, But he will have a right To be a Pilgrim.” The auxiliary verbs, as such, are only em- ployed in conjunction with other verbs; they do not therefore take any other object but the main verb to complete the sense of the sentence. The particular function of each auxiliary will be considered hereafter ; meanwhile we will only say that “a boy can speak and ought to speak if he durst; when he would speak, he could if he might; he certainly must speak if they ºvill allow, for he has said that he did not like their tyranny before. ‘Let us speak out,’ said he, “do let us speak.’” All which shows what varying moods and times of speaking can be expressed with the aid of these short words. Each has its own special meaning, fitting its place; as we see in the exclamation of the Scotchman, who, finding it hard to understand Our use of will and shall for future time, cried out, “I will be drowned, and nobody shall save me !” This certainly has the look of a made story ; but it illustrates our point well enough. TABLE OF VERBS, classified according to use in a sentence. CLASS. VOICE. I. Transitive 1. Active—requires an object (Tom strikes Snap). 2. Passive—object becomes subject (Snap is struck) II. Intransitive (no distinctive voices)—complete without object (Snap runs). III. Impersonal IV. Awaziliary | Both these are intransitive in their nature ſ (It thunders, grows dark). \ (shall, will, can, etc.) MERCANTILE LIFE. II. I. PREPARATORY STUDIEs—(continued.) THE idea that to be a merchant requires less education than to belong to one of “the learned professions,” so called par ea:- cellence, will scarcely bear inspection. At first sight there is more of action than of study in the mercantile life; and the daily duties of a merchant's office are very unlike the mental labours of a metaphysician or the artistic dreamings of a poet-laureate. The merchant is a man of the world, and requires the activity of temperament, the decision of character, and the hard and persistent spirit of the world to carry him through, together with many amiable qualities to carry him through sweetly. But the motion that the commerce of the world, as it now is, can be conducted tolerably well without much study should be dismissed as a crazy phantom. However much division of labour may be introduced into the business of merchandise, there will always remain abundant need for study in every branch of a profession requiring so much expertness of mind, so much mastery of details, as well as knowledge of general principles, and the members of which can scarcely hope to get on at all without being linguists. Therefore the practical advice I have to offer young men, entering upon a mercantile career, is not to entertain the notion that their education, even in the scholastic sense of carrying up the studies and exercises of the Schools to higher stages by reading and self-exercise, with the help of teachers when necessary, may cease when they enter a found to vindicate itself. mercantile office. They should rather believe that it has then only begun. In the office they will have to learn many things almost entirely new to them, and with which they will find what they have already learned at School coming into constant and fruitful connexion; but without losing their now active duties in the scholar or student, they will still have precious opportunities for pursuing their study of history, geography, foreign peoples and languages, and the arts and sciences of industry ; and to this study they should devote many of their leisure hours, giving it freely such shape and direction as may be most needful in the business in which they are and are likely to be engaged. This is a view of preparatory studies for mercantile life which in any case will be |For though there is a wide difference between a merchant and a merchant's clerk, yet it is from merchant clerks that not a few great merchants, and many honourable merchants, great or less great, have come ; and few merchants or mercantile firms, worth the name, will be slow to mark and appreciate in their subordinates the promise of mercantile faculty. II. THE MORAL CONDITIONS OF SUCCESS. Assuming the preparatory studies to have been duly attended to, there are various con- stituents of mercantile character, apart from intellectual equipment, which are highly con- ducive to success, and cannot be begun too early in a mercantile career, not only to be observed and understood, but to be made the purpose and end of steadfast development. These have their root in moral principle, but moral principle so clearly marked and bounded, so free from straining at a gnat or swallowing a camel, as to be consistent with the legitimate personal interest of business, while at the same time just to the interest of others. The most immoral views have sometimes been taken of trade, such as that in every act of dealing the gain of one is the loss of another, and so on— PHYSICAI, GEOGRAPHY. all which views are found on examination to be narrow, perverse, downward in their ten- dency, and not in the least degree a true reflection of what naturally takes place in commercial transactions. The same deceit has so misread the purely philosophical principles of political economy, that much of what has been said by economists of the free pursuit of self-interest, the advantages of free competition, and the like, has come to signify not uncur- rently what the economists did not mean at all. All professions and occupations have their little artifices and downslidings, but unless they are to be supposed to be consistent throughout with morality there can be no basis whatever for any improvement or progress of the human race. The danger, of course, is that when wrong or loose notions begin to prevail - s—ts Ecºss-T ~ --T- sº-º-º: º ~ss== .” st-sº- - *=s==#sº * ->e." ~~~~ L --~. _-- s&S XI. CONFIGURATION OF THE SURFACE OF THE EARTH. THE tremendous forces we have indicated are sufficient to account for many of the variations of the surface of the globe : but there are other causes which must be taken into account, one of the most powerful being the cooling of the exterior crust of the earth. This cooling is described by scientific writers as “secular,”— that is, gradual, extending over long periods *- *-- *—— MOUNT EGMONT, NEW ZEALAND, AN EXTINCT VOLCANo. on this cardinal point, the infection may rapidly spread, and the good be dragged down by sheer force of circumstances toward the level of the bad. An excellent merchant, once replying to a toast at a public banquet in honour of his branch of business, concluded by saying that “the members of his trade were nearly all about as honest as they could afford to be l’” The naïveté of this admission drew forth much applause ; but though in perfect harmony with the upright character of the speaker, it left an impression that the honest man was aware of having done some things himself which were not quite “according to conscience.” The importance of a high moral standard in mer- chandise cannot be disputed, because it there ceases to be a sentiment, and becomes a matter of practice, under one of the most seductive of temptations—the temptation of temporary gain. VOL. I. of time. At first, the semi-fluid globe cooled on the surface, and a thin crust was formed, which contracted while solidifying more slowly than the interior, and fissures were caused, the crust being torn into segments by the force of tension. As the crust thickened, the interior mass began to contract, and the outer was sub- ject to other strains, the bending and crushing Consequent upon which formed the chief mountain chains and ocean beds. It is evident that, the nucleus shrinking more than the shell, the latter not being able to bear the strain on it, the shell must crush and sink down upon the shrinking nucleus. This shrinking and sub- sidence would not be regular, but in paroxysms, as they have been termed, the great friction and rapidity of motion developing an immense amount of heat, sufficient to melt again the mineral rocks, producing lava and converting Water into steam. This is the theory of Mr. 24 376 Tº HE UAVIVERSAL IAWSTR UCT69 R. Mallet, and is generally accepted as a probable explanation. The impression made upon our minds by the devastations and calamities produced by these convulsions makes it difficult to Tffect of vºlcanic conceive that they may have convulsions, a beneficent aspect. On this subject a writer of considerable ability may be quoted. “The ‘convulsions,’ ‘dislocations,’ and other causes of the broken stratification of the earth, have raised mountains, divided Seas, given currents to rivers, and by SO doing estab- lished those varieties of soil, local climate and other conditions, to which Organized beings are adapted, brought minerals to the surface, and produced the natural harmonies and mutually dependent relations of plants and animals on the land, in the streams and in the Sea. With- out these disruptions, the earth would have been still uniformly covered by shallow waters ; or, if some part rose above, it must have been a barren waste or a monotonous surface, on which the living wonders of nature could not have appeared.” - The direct volcanic action and the lateral compression described account for the elevation of mountain masses and ridges ; Formation of but the manner in which these * forces act demands consideration. Isolated masses are generally the result of sudden convulsions; ranges or chains of lateral compression, caused by the action of the crust ~~~~ - 6 - …' TYPICAL FORMATION OF WAVED MOUNTAIN BANGES. of the earth described above, causing deep fissures with uplifted edges, rising into high ridges, or, if the action has been less violent, a series of long folds, the mountains being curved into arches, either entire or broken at the top, forming parallel ridges of about equal height, with longitudinal valleys. In the case of “mountains of fracture,” as they are termed—those abrupt and broken ridges formed by the more violent Configuration changes on the earth's surface, of * there is generally a central mass, o with lower subordinate chains ; the crests are deeply indented to about one-third or one-half of the entire height, presenting a serrated or “saw-like " profile, from which is derived the Spanish Sierra and the Portuguese Serra, so familiar in connection with mountain ranges in the European Iberian peninsula and in the former Spanish American possessions. Longitudinal valleys are few, but transverse valleys numerous. The mountain chains of greatest altitude are of this character—the Alps of Europe, the Himalayas of Asia, and the Rocky Mountains and Andes of America. Striking examples of the other class of mountain ranges—those of which long curves or “waves” are the characteristics—are found in the Appalachians of North America, and the Jura Tanges in Europe. In the former three kinds of “waves” or flexures have been ob- served. On the line of greatest disturbance are flexures—(a), one side of which doubles under the other ; beyond that are lower curves (b), one side nearest to the preceding, being more gradual in slope; and then come “sym- metrical flexures,” still lower (c), the slopes of which are at about the same angle. The dia- gram showsthetypical formation of these ranges. These remarkable mountain ranges will be more minutely described when treating of the physical geography of North America. The Jura mountains consist of several parallel chains with deep longitudinal valleys between. In addition to what has been said respecting the variations of the surface of the earth by violent convulsions, it should be - noted that a regular, if slower, ººlºº º :... and depression. power is at work, producing changes extending over considerable districts of the earth’s surface. Observations show that the Scandinavian peninsula of north- western Europe is rising on the eastern coast at the rate of four feet in a century ; and the whole of the western coast of South America, and nearly half of the Pacific islands, are supposed to be gradually rising, not by accu- mulation of soil alone, but by a gradual up- heaving, due to the continuous exertion of subterranean forces. A contrary process has been observed in Denmark, Holland, Belgium, and the south shore of the Baltic generally, which are slowly sinking; and there is a de- pression of the Atlantic coast of North America, from Cape Cod to Cape Hatteras, to the extent of about two feet in a century. Valleys, table-lands, and plains will be more particularly referred to in a subsequent article. Considerable modifications of the surface are produced by the movements of glaciers, huge masses of ice, formed from the * - snow which falls and slides ºatial action. into the deep valleys of the lofty mountain chains. The weight of the ice and of the snow above pushes the mass onwards, frequently far below the snow line. A great glacier of the Alps, near Chamouni, has been observed to travel at the Tate of nearly 500 feet in a year, and the central portion moves more rapidly than the sides, which are impeded by the friction against the rocks, The great falls of snow from the topmost peaks into the valleys are often of a terribly destructive character. Forests are rooted up, large fragments of rock are torn away and hurled into the chasm, filling up beds of streams, or diverting them into new channels, not unfrequently occasion- ing destructive floods, and sometimes burying villages beneath the fallen masses; and the air, suddenly compressed by the velocity of the descent, becomes tornado-like in destructive qualities. Avalanches, or mountain Snow- falls of this character, may be divided into three classés, jºif. Avalanches. avalanches are , those occasioned by strong gusts of wind after a heavy fall of snow, when the flakes, not having acquired consistency, are driven together in vast heaps, which the de- clivities are not able to support. Rolling avalanches are, in fact, stupendous snowballs, portions of Snow becoming detached from the mass during a thaw, and growing in bulk on MUSIC. 37] their passage to lower regions. Sliding ava- lanches, perhaps the most terrible of all, are due to the melting of that part of the Snowy mass in contact with the ground by the natural heat of the earth, which brings down the whole mass from an inclined base. The masses of snow thus precipitated into valleys and mountain fissures produce by alter- nate melting and freezing enor- mous masses of ice, known as glaciers. In Greenland are glaciers of immense but unknown extent ; in no other part of the world does a glacier exceed about thirty miles in length and two or three miles in breadth. The surface is in some cases Smooth, in others it presents the appearance of waves; and there are several well-known glaciers where the ice forms jagged peaks of considerable height. When, in the course of its motion, it passes over an abrupt ridge of the earth's surface, and is so subjected to severe tension, huge cracks are formed, known as “Cre- vasses,” which present one of the most formidable dangers to explorers. These transverse crevasses disappear when the glacier reaches more level ground—a result which can be easily understood if we bend a sheet of any substance with cracks on its sur- face, which are widened according to the shape of the curve, but are scarcely seen when the surface is level. There are besides longitu- dinal crevasses, caused by the spreading out of the glacier on its emerging from a narrow channel to a wider area, by which the fissures are formed. The unequal motion of the Centre and the sides, referred to above, also produces fissures, but of a smaller size. The surface of the glacier is frequently loaded with masses of rock and other accumulations, known as “moraines,” and the base is usually thickly set with fragments of rock, pebbles, and coarse sand, firmly frozen into the icy mass, and acting as huge rasps to the underlying rocks, scratching or “striating ” their surfaces in moving over them, or polishing, if the material carried down is sandy or fine. The melting of the ice on the surface of the glacier produces streams, which fall into the crevasses and unite with the water produced by the melting of the ice from the contact with the warmer earth, as the glacier descends, and large rivers issue from the cave of ice which the glacier forms at the spot where it termi- nates. Some great rivers have their origin in this manner, especially the Bramapootra, in Asia, and the Rhone, in South Europe. The moraines are frequently of immense size, and are carried to great distances. They are classed as of three kinds. Lateral moraines are those which accumulate on the sides of the glacier, and are not uncommonly masses fifty or sixty feet in height. Medial moraines are collections of fragments in the centre of the glacier, sometimes dividing it laterally into two portions. Terminal moraines are the accu- mulations deposited at the spot where the glacier ends, forming in many cases an irregular broken arch, through which the melted waters of the glacier pass. At a remote period, the glaciers were pro- Glaciers. Crevasses, bably of greater size than any now known to exist, the largest of which is the ... e great glacier to the north of Size of glaciers. Greenland, about 79° N. The effect of the movement of these colossal blocks of ice, bear- ing broken fragments of rock, on the surface of the earth, must be tremendous. Professor Tyndall has expressed an opinion that the present conformation of the Alps has been produced mainly by the action of ancient glaciers. On the slope of the Jura mountains, 800 feet above the level of the Lake of Neuf- châtel, there is a great belt of angular blocks of granite (one of them, the Pierre à Bot, con- taining 40,000 cubic feet, and others only a little Smaller), extending many miles, and seventy miles distant from the nearest mass of the same mineralogical character, on Mont Blanc. In Prussia, Russia, and Poland are colossal masses and Smaller fragments, torn from the Scandinavian mountains; and through- out England and North America (where they are popularly known as “lost rocks”), are numerous similar isolated masses, evidently brought from great distances by glacial action. “Striated ” valleys, showing the scratched surface, marking the progress of rugged super- incumbent masses of immense weight, and “fractured surfaces,” will be more particularly described in the articles on GEOLOGY. It is possible that some modern exponents of what is known as the “glacial theory” may to some degree have exaggerated the effects of the movement of these immense fields of ice; but there is ample evidence that very remark- able effects have been produced; in addition to which it is necessary to take into account the force of the currents and deluges produced by the melting of the glaciers as they reached regions where the temperature of the earth was higher. Glaciers exist in Asia, on the northern side of the Himalayas, on the Altai and other great ranges. In southern Europe they are princi- pally in the Alps, where the area of the ice is estimated at 1,500 square miles, and is from 80 to 600 feet in thickness. There are also glaciers in the Pyrenees, and many in Norway, Iceland, and Spitzbergen. In the Andes of South America, glaciers are unknown, although the peaks rise far above the snow line, excessive steepness of the declivities being unfavourable to their formation. XI. THE STAFF NOTATION.—CLEFS. A CLEF determines the absolute pitch of notes, A note like that at the side means nothing to the musician : it may be several different sounds. But the clef, literally “key,” fixes the H 372 THE UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. exact position of a note in the region of musical sounds. The clefs now used in 'G and F Clefs, popular music are two—the G makes the line around which its tail curls represent G above the the F or Bass Clef, which makes the line between the two dots it – middle C. Older music and instrumental voices except the bass, and for 9°ºf certain instruments. This is the gººm _ middle C of the pianoforte. This is: is the sound which a man makes - fork, and an octave below the sound which a woman makes in doing the same placed on any line, although it is now only used in three positions, as below :- soprano Clef, Alto Clef. Tenor Clef. (First line.) (Third line.) (Fourth line.) may stand, is middle C. The reason that this clef is adhered to by musicians is that it shows nience of singers, to whom a multiplicity of clefs is perplexing, has, however, borne down now think of issuing popular vocal music in the C clef. For the bass the F clef is used, and the error of writing the tenor part an octave higher than it really sounds, and hence the written in this way the music is ***** said to be in “full score,” and or Treble Clef, represented at the side, which middle C of a pianoforte ; and bears represent the F below this full scores use, however, a different clef for all C clef, whose cross-bars mark the place of the in imitating the C of a tuming- thing. The C clef is movable, and can be TITTEEI IITOT : T- [*: smºmºsºme *** *-* * The line between the cross-bars, wherever they the absolute pitch of the notes. The conve- theoretical arguments, and publishers do not the G clef for all parts above it. This involves objections of theorists. When the parts are the lines stand as follows:– SOPRANO. CONTRALTO. TENOR. (8ve lower.) BASS. Some American composers have endeavoured to form a compromise between theory and con- & venience by placing the C clef in *...* the third space, thus placing the p * notes as in the G clef, but using the different sign to show the octave. The theoretical objection to this procedure we shall now understand. A glance at the diagram at the side will show that, by a fortunate accident, the F and G clefs meet at the middle C which occupies the first leger line above the bass staff, and the first leger line below the treble staff. This gives us a considerable range of pitch ; in fact, with the help of leger lines and a few other signs, pianoforte music of the widest range can be expressed on these two staves. Vocal music can also be written in two, four, or more parts upon them ; when this is done, the music is said to be in “short Short score.” The soprano and contralto **** parts are written on the upper staff, and the tenor and bass parts on the lower. To dis- tinguish the parts, the higher one on each stave has its tails turned upwards, and the lower one its tails turned downwards. Suffi- cient space is left between the staves for the tails of the alto and tenor notes to clear each other, and the place of middle C is shifted, according as it appears as a leger line above the bass staff, or below the treble. When two parts have the same note, if this be a crotchet or any tailed note, two tails are given to the one head, turning different ways. In the case of a semibreve, which has no tail, a double- note is sometimes used, resembling one note linked to another ; or the two notes are placed side-by-side on the same line or space. This central position of middle C, standing as it does between the two staves, has led some theorists to argue backwards, and say that middle C is the centre of the clef system, from which both the other clefs are derived. To place the C clef in a space would on this theory displace both the F and G clefs, and destroy the whole argu- ment about “the great stave of eleven lines.” Convenience, however, makes short work of consistency, in these days of amateur singing for the million. Write the following four-part chant in Tonic Sol-fa notation. The square marks show the place of the Doh which bears no octave mark (called un- marked Doh). Theory and practice, Exercise, J. BARNBY. ######## ###### Write the following in the staff notation in Score, unmarked Doh in second space of treble staff, and on fifth line of bass staff — m —|r:d tº:— ll:— si; d.r m: r d — S1 –|S1:m.f, s, ,- | f :—|ml:—f si: Si mi: – d :-ti:d.r m:— d:—|d : d |d ; tı d – d :—lst:li mi:— | f :— di:ll Isl: Si di – ARITH METIC. 373 XIII. COMPOUND DIVISION (continued). Eacercises and Problems. 1. Divide the following quantities, each sepa- rately by 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 12, viz. – (a) #3 16s. 8d. ; (b) g 17 18s. 9d. 2. Divide (a) £207 9s. 3%d. by 11 ; (b) £814 13s. 9d. by 12; (e) #535 18s. 9d. by 35 ; (d) glö64 7s. 43d. by 43; (e) £7496 12s. 4d. by 179; (f) #25.17 18s. 3d. by 867. 3. In the last set of exercises, divide succes- sively by the factors of each divisor. N.B.-The answers will be the same as those of 2, if the work be correct in both cases. 4. Perform the following divisions :— S. d. (a) 34 16 0} + 257. (b) 208 2 6} -- 23. (6) 26 9 7 –- 82. (d) 5429 12 3} + 783. (e) 7086 8 0} + 785. (f) 2832 14 7 — 235. 5. A grocer buys 1000 tins of preserved salmon for £33 6s. 8d., and sells them again for 10d. a tin : how much does he gain on each tin 7 6. A man's income is £469 10s. per annum : what does he earn per diem, omitting Sundays? 7. Assuming the population of Great Britain and Ireland to be 30,500,000, and the number of square miles to be 122,518, what is the number of persons for each square mile 7 Amsmen's. 1. (a) 19s. 2d.; 15s. 4d. ; 12s. 9d., remain- der 2d. ; 9s. 7d. ; 7s. 8d.: 6s. 4d., remainder 8d. ; (b) #49s. 83d. ; £3 11s. 9d. ; £2 19s. 9%d.; £2 4s. 10d., remainder la ; £1 15s. 10; d. ; £1 9s. 10; d. 2. (a) gl& 17s. 23d. ; (b) g67 17s. 9%d. ; (c) glö 6s. 8d. ; (d) {36 7s. 7#d., remainder 204. ; (e) #41 17s, 7}d., remainder 59q. ; (f) #2 18s. 1d. 4. (a) 2s. 83d. ; (b) £9 0s. 11:#d. ; (e) 6s. 53d.; (d) g6 18s. 8+d. ; (e) g8 0s, 63d., remainder 1364. ; (f) £12 1s. 1d. 5. 2d. 6. £1 10s. 7. 248 per square mile, and 115,536 persons over. But as we said on p. 346, Compound Division is also the name of the process by which we find how often one compound quantity is con- tained in another compound quantity of the same kind. Thus we may ask how many times is £32s. 6d. contained in £106 5s. 7 To answer this we must reduce both com- pound quantities to one and the same denomi- nation (i.e. to the lowest denomination which occurs in either quantity), and then find, by simple division, how often one number is con- tained in the other. Now, pence are the lowest denomination * occurring in the first quantity, and shillings the lowest in the second. Therefore we must reduce both quantities to pence. Now, £3 2s. 6d. = 750d., and £106 5s. 0d. = 25,500d. ; and it is clear that to find how often 750d. is contained in 25500d., we have only to divide 25500 by 750, as in simple division. It will be found that the quotient is 34. Hence £3 2s. 6d. is contained 34 times in #106 5s. The rule for dividing one compound quantity by another of the same kind is— g Reduce both quantities to the lowest denomi- nation which occurs in either quantity, and divide, as in simple division. ^. It is necessary that the quantities should be of the same kind. It would be meaningless to ask how often a sum of money was contained in a given neight, or distance, Or time. Example 1: How often is 3s. 4d. contained in £1 10s. 7 S. d. £ s. 3 4 1 10 12 20 36 -- 4 = 40d. 30s. I2 40)360 -*º- *- 360d. 9 3s. 4d. reduces to 40d., and £1 10s. reduces to 360d. ; 40 is contained 9 times in 360 ; ... 9 is the answer. Example 2: What number must £124 5s. 3d. be multiplied by so as to be equal to £4.473 9s 7 This is equivalent to finding how often the Smaller quantity is contained in the larger, £ S. d. £ s. 124 5 3 4473 9 20 20 2485s. 894.69s. 12 12 298.23d. 1073628d. 29823) 1073628 (36. Ans. 89.469 178938 178938 Jºcercises and Problems. 1. Find how Often £3 10s. 6d. is contained in each of the following :- - (a) #28 4s. ; (b) #35 5s. ; (c) #42 6s. ; (3) £52 17s.6d. ; (e) gloš 15s. ; (f) £158 12s. 6d. 2. Find how often £50s. 0.4d. is contained in (a) g60 0s. 3d. ; (5) #420 1s. 9d, ; (e) £1260 5s. 3d. ; (d) #2520 10s. 6d. t 3. If I wish to take an equal number of boys and girls on a school excursion, and have to pay 2s. 6d. for each boy and 2s. 7d., for each girl, how many can I take for £14 9s, 9d, 4. If, in addition to the above cost of each child, I give them each a penny bun, a leaf of strawberries, price 1%d., and two apples, price. #d., how much shall I spend over the £149s. 9d. 374 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, 5. A thousand men belong to a friendly society, and subscribe 1s. 6d. a month each. At the end of the year they find that, after de- ducting the amount allowed to sick members, they have £40 to their credit. The average allowance for each sick man was 10s. How many men must have received this allowance 7 AnSmyers. 1. (a) 8 ; (b) 10 ; (e) 12; (d) 15; (e) 30; (f) 45. 2. (a) 12; (b) 84; (c) 252; (d) 504. . 57 of each. . 15s. 53d. . 1720 men. THE MEASURES OF WEIGHT. 1. Troy Weight is chiefly used for weighing gold, silver, and precious stones, and formerly it was used in England in all delicate scientific investigations. Now, however, the French metric system is generally used by scientific persons in England, as well as abroad; and before long we may hope that it will be adopted universally in England for weighing all kinds of quantities. Calculations are much more readily and accurately made in it than in our own present systems; and it would also have the advantage of enabling us at once and without any further calculation to understand the calculations of foreigners. The derivation of the word Troy is doubtful; some writers think it is derived from the name of the town Troyes in France, because it is said that the pound troy was first used there, just as the bayonet was so called because it was first made at Bayonne. Others say it is from the French word trois, i.e. three, because, like money, it has three denominations, viz. pounds, ounces, pennyneights. But this does not account for the fourth denomination, namely grains. An- other derivation sometimes suggested is from “Troy novant,” the name by which London in pre-historic times was designated. The following is the Table of Troy Weight:— 24 grains (written 24 grs.) make 1 pennyweight 20 pennyweights (20 dwts) , 1 ounce. 12 ounces (12 oz.) , 1 pound (11b.) : 2. Avoirdupois Weight is used for general commercial and household purposes. Weights of all kinds of heavy and coarse articles are generally calculated in it. The name is derived from the French words, “avoir du poids,” i.e. to have weight. The Table of Avoirdupois Weight is as º follows:– 16 drams (written 16 drs.) make 1 ounce. 16 ounces ( , 16 oz.) , 1 pound. 28 pounds ( , 28 lbs.) , 1 quarter. 4 quarters, or 112 lbs. (4qrs.), 1 hundredwt. 20 hundredweight (20 cwt.) , 1 ton. 1 stone (1 st.) = 14 lbs. avoirdupois in general. Observe : In a pound avoirdupois there are 7000 grains, and in a pound troy 5760 grains. A cubic inch of distilled water, at tempera- ture 62° Fahrenheit, weighs 252.458 grains; and a cubic foot at same temperature weighs 62.321 pounds avoirdupois. The student will hardly understand this at present, but it will be explained hereafter. 3. Apothecaries' Weight is used in medicines. Its denominations are subdivisions of the pound troy. 20 grains (gTs.) make 1 scruple, written Isc. or 19 3 scruples ,, 1 dram, , ldr. or 13 8 drams ,, 1 Ounce, ,, loz. or 13 12 ounces ,, 1 pound, , llb. or lib The rules which we have already stated for the reduction of money are also applicable to the reduction of all other compound quantities. So also are the rules for addition, Subtraction, multiplication, and division. We shall work out a few examples, in case the student should feel at a loss how to apply these rules to new quantities. Example : Reduce 3 lbs. 5 oz. 14 dwt. 11 grs. to grains. lbs. Oz, dwt. grs. 3 5 14 11 12 36+5 = 41 oz. 20 wº- 820–H 14 = 834 dwt. 24 3336 1668 20016––11 = 20027 grs. The next lower denomination after lbs. is ounces; and there are 12 oz. in 1 lb., ... we mul- tiply 3 lbs. by 12, and add in the 5 oz. We thus get 41 oz. The next lower denomination is dwts. ; and 20 dwts, make 1 oz., ... multiply 41 by 20, and add in the 14 dwts. ; this gives 834 dwts. The next lower denomination is grs.; and 24 grs. make 1 dwt., ... multiply 834 dwts. by 24, and add in the 11 grs.; this gives us altogether 20027 grs. Example: Conversely, to reduce 20027 grs. to lbs., oz., etc. - grS. 6 20027 24 4 || 3337 ... 5 remr.) - 11 grs. 2.0 | 83.4 ... I remr. 12 41 ... 14 dwt. Temr. 3 ... remr. 5 oz. Ans. 3 lbs. 5 oz. 14 dwt. 11 grs We divide the grs. by 24, the number of grs. in the next higher denomination, viz. dwts. To divide by 24 we divide by its factors 6 and 4 successively. The remainder is 11, and the quotient 834, and clearly the 11 are grs. and the 134 are dwts. We then divide by 20, because 20 dwts, make 1 oz., the next denomination. Finally we divide by 12. The last quotient and the several remainders give the answer. AsrRowowr. *z, Example: Reduce 3 tons 15 cwt. 2 qrs, 0 lb. F5 oz. to ounces. tons cwt. Gr. lb. oz. 3 15 2 () I5 20 60+15 =75 cwt. 4 -*ms 300+2=302 q1s. 4 1208 7 8456 4 33824 ſ 16 4 28 135296–F15 = 135311 oz. Ans. The next lower denomination after tons is wewts., of which there are 20 in 1 ton ; ... multi- ply the 3 tons by 20, and add the 15 cwt.: this gives 75 cwt. Next come qrs., of which 4 make 1 cwt. ; ... multiply 75 cwt. by 4, and add in 2 : this gives 302 qrs. Multiply 302 qrs. by 28, or by 4 and by 7 suc- cessively, to reduce the qºs. to lbs., and add in 0 lb.: this gives 8456 lbs. y There are 16 oz. in 1 lb.; ... multiply 8456 lbs. by 16, or by 4 and 4 successively, and add in the 15 oz. This gives us the final result. Example : Conversely, to reduce 135311 oz. to tons, cwts., etc. - * OZ. 4 |135311 *} 4 || 33827 ... remr. 3| 15 oz. |. 8456 ... remr. 3ſ 28 7 2114 ... remr. () 0 lb. 4 302 ... remr. | 20 75 ... remr. 2 qrs. 3 ... remr. 15cwt. We divide the ounces by 16, the number of oz. in 1 of the next higher denomination. We do so by dividing successively by the factors of 16, 3.e. 4 and 4. Again, we divide the lbs. by 28, to reduce to qrs., and we do so by dividing by the factors 4 and 7. Then we divide the 302 qis. by 4 to reduce them to cwts., and the 75 cwts. by 20 to reduce them to tons. The last quotient and the several remainders give the answer. Ans. 3 tons 15 cwt. 2 qrs. 9 lb. 15 oz. CASSINI’S DISCOVERIES. OWING to the improvements which had been introduced into astronomical instruments, the principal discoveries which were made in the latter portion of the seventeenth century were owing to astronomers being now able to employ more powerful telescopes, and to make delicate measurements with the aid of the micrometer. During this period the principal contributors to this branch of astronomy were Cassini, Hooke, and Hevelius, but principally the first. Born in Italy, J. D. Cassini was one of the most energetic and successful observers who ever lived, and to his labours astronomy is indebted for the first accurate information. about the physical condition of the different Imembers of the solar system; and we shall see his name connected with many of the most brilliant discoveries in this department of astronomy. Little that was new was learnt about the sun, although drawings were made of the appearance of the faculae and sun spots; but it was not until the end of the following century that any real progress was made in our know- ledge of the physical condition of the sun. Some further information was learnt respecting its distance from the earth. We have already seen how astronomers were able to ascertain the approximate distance of the different planets from the sun, if the distance of the earth were taken as unity. And we have also seen how the famous laws of Kepler enable one to tell with accuracy the distances of every planet from the sun, if once the distance of one planet be known. We have also learnt how astronomers found out the distance of the moon by its parallax, or the apparent alteration in its place amongst the stars when it is seen from different sides of the earth. Now, Kepler's theory of the planets showed that Mars ap- roached the earth until only j one-third as far as of ºs Solar Parall** the sun ; and astronomers thought that this might be close enough for them to be able to to measure the parallax by comparing the place of the planet with some known star. Richer, a French astronomer, proceeded in 1672 to Cayenne in South America (not in Africa, as commonly stated), to observe Mars ; and Cassini, Römer and Picard observed the planet in France. When they came to com- pare their observations they found that the parallax or alteration in the place of the planet was so small that they could not deter- mine its value with sufficient accuracy. It was not greater than 25", and it could not be less than 15”, or they would not have been able to detect it at all, whereas there was obviously some difference. Cassini, on taking everything inte consideration, fixed, on the Cassini's dis- coveries, 376 -> THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. value 21" as the parallax of Mars when seen from opposite sides of the earth, and from that he calculated that the parallax of the Sun was 9°5", or its distance 86 million miles. It was easy then by Kepler's laws to ascertain the distances of the other planets from the sun. Mercury was 34 million miles distant, Venus was 62 million, Mars was 121 million, Jupiter 447 million, and Saturn 818 million miles distant from the sum. Cassini and La Hire, his A colleague at the Royal Ob- servatory at Paris, both care- t fully mapped the surface of the moon, but their new charts were little, if anyway, Superior to those of their predecessors Hevelius and Riccioli. As in the case of the sun, a cen- tury was to elapse before any real advance was made in our knowledge of the physical condition of our satellite. It is essential for the pro- per study of astronomy that astronomers should know the correct value of the diameter of the earth. At this period it was commonly supposed that the earth was about 21,600 miles in circumference, or 3440 miles in radius. Astro- nomers, however, knew better, EARTH Piameter ºf the and used the more correct value earth, 3810 miles, which had been deduced by Snellius in 1615. The method by which the dia- meter of the earth is found out is very simple in theory, though there are difficulties in practice, and consists in measuring an arc of the meridian, as it is called. An observer at the point a on the earth (fig. 41) chooses a star (A) which passes exactly overhead, and another (B), which is a little to the South; in the figure it is about 10° south. He then moves South along the sur- face of the earth until he comes to a spot like b, where the star B passes exactly Overhead, and the star A passes about 10° to the north. He then knows that, as the earth is a sphere, he has moved exactly 10° over the surface of the earth, and the distance he has tra- velled is the length of 10° of the earth's circumference. He measures the length in miles of the distance he has moved due south—say it is 665 miles—and he knows that 10° of the earth's circumference measures 665 miles, or one degree measures 663 miles. Geometry teaches him that the radius of the earth is FIG. 41.-MEASURING AN ARC OF THE MERIDIAN. FIG. 42.-JUPITER. equal to 67% ºf the length of one degree, or in the case supposed 3810 miles. Several years after the determination of Snellius, his pupil Muschenbrock, another Dutch astronomer, measured the length of an arc of the meridian in the Netherlands, and using more powerful instruments than Snellius, found the radius of the earth to be 3960 miles. In 1635, Norwood, an English astronomer, measured the arc of the meridian between B London and York, and found the diameter of the earth to be 3982 miles. The most exactly determined value of this period was, however, that of Picard, the French astronomer, who found the diameter to be 3959 miles. We now know the radius or semi-diameter is 3962 miles. The popularly current value of 3440 miles was generally used by philosophers until near the close of the seventeenth century, when Picard's value displaced it ; and we shall see how Newton was misled by it, though we may wonder why s he did not take the more cor- rect results of Snellius or Nor- wood, which were even then known to be more accurate. In 1664, whilst residing in Italy, J. D. Cassini obtained a very fine telescope from the most celebrated maker of the time — Campani of Rome: it was 37 feet in length, had an aperture of 3% inches, and magnified 130 times. With this telescope he assiduously studied the planet Jupiter. The planet he saw was crossed by three dusky belts running parallel to the or- bits of the satellites. On these belts from time to time he saw both dusky and white spots. They none of them appeared to remain visible for more than a few hours, and even the belts seemed to alter in fppear- ance. In July 1665 he dis- covered a large whº e spot on the lower edge of the uppermost or southern belt, and on two or three subse- quent days he saw the same spot, but it appeared to have changed its position. One day it appeared indis- tinct and close to the eastern edge of the planet,and watch- ing it attentively he saw it slowly approach the centre of the planet, when it looked large and distinct : soon after it had passed the centre, and gradually approached the west border, until it was lost near the edge of the planet. In four hours it seemed to have moved over two-fifths of the circum- ASTROWOMY. 377 ference of the planet. Cassini felt convinced, from what he had seen, that it was fixed to the planet, which was rotating on its axis like the earth, only so much faster that it only required ten hours for a complete rotation. Two days afterwards the spot was again seen by him, only it was one hour later in reaching the centre of the planet ; in 49 hours, therefore, the planet had made five rotations, or took 9 h. 50 m. to rotate On its axis. Cassini continued his observations, and found that in almost exactly 12 days the spot on the planet had come back to the same place as before. It must have made 29 revolu- tions, each revolution taking 9 h. 56 m. This was a brilliant dis- covery, for in the revolution of Jupiter on its axis was a striking confirmation of the fact of the revolution of the earth on its axis. Cassini continued his observn- tions, and before long discovered a very minute black spot on the planet, much smaller than those dusky spots he had seen. . This spot moved quickly across the planet from extreme edge to edge, and did not grow indistinct and disappear insensibly near the edge. Soon after he discovered other similar black spots, some of which seemed to take only a little over two hours to cross, and others required nearly five hours; so that in most cases they moved far quicker than could be accounted for by the rotation of the planet, and therefore could not be black spots fixed on the surface of the planet itself. Cassini soon found that these spots were only to be seen when one of the “. . . satellites was in or near its time of transit across the planet, and that they moved at about the same rate as the satellite itself. He immediately sus- pected that they were the shadows cast by the satel- ". . . lites; so that he had seen the phenomena whose ex- istence had been predicted by Galileo, but which his predecessors had been un- tº ſº * * * able to S2e Cassini disgoversowing to UIDI- g ... their tele- . scopes not being powerful enough. Later he was successful in Seeing Some of the satellites themselves in transit over the disc of Jupiter, when they appeared as minute brighter spots on the dusky belts of the planet. Having discovered the cause of these spots, he was able to predict the time when they would be visible; and these predictions being verified by observation, it established the correctness of his explanation of their nature. e Continuing his observations, Cassini found that the satellites did not move, as had been FIG. 43.—SATE LLITE IN TRANSIT. FIG. 44.—MARS. ° panied it. supposed, in the same plane as the orbit of the planet, but in a plane inclined to it by 2° 55'., and that the equator and the belts of the planet were also inclined to the orbit of the planet by the same amount ; so that, as in the case of the earth, the axis of Jupiter was inclined to its orbit. These discoveries he embodied in a series of tables of the satellites, from which could be obtained their position and the times of their eclipses and transits. Next turning his telescope on Mars, he discovered a number of greyish spots on the disc of that planet. He found that every day these spots seemed te reappear about three-quarters of an hour later, and from a com- parison of his drawings of the planet was able to fix on 24 h. 40 m. as the time of its complete rotation On its axis. & This value has been Rºº. of found by subse- alſ S, quent observations to be very nearly correct. On examining Venus, he also suspected that its bright disc contained some very faint markings which changed in position, and seemed to indicate that the planet revolved on its axis once in 23 hours. He could not feel sure of this, for, like all the earlier astronomers, he found Venus a very difficult object to observe. In 1669, on Louis XIV. founding a Royal Observatory at Paris, Dominic Cassini was appointed its head, and leaving Italy took up his residence in France, and energetically resumed his observations of the physical aspects of the planets. On Oct. 25. 1671, Cassini was watch- ing the planet Saturn with a telescope, 17 feet in length, with an aperture of 3 inches and a power of about 100—one of the best instruments in the equipment of the Royal Observatory. The ring of Saturn was then presented almost edgeways to the earth, so that it looked like a narrow line of light; and Cassini noticed a small star to the west of the planet, and nearly in the same line as the ring. On the following evening he was surprised to find that though the planet seemed to have moved a considerable distance amongst the stars, this particular star seemed to have accom- Accordingly he closely watched during the following night, and found that it moved with the planet, and slowly revolved round it in about eighty i. days; it was a new satellite to "t. §. S Saturn. Towards the end of the year Cassini lost sight of the new satellite, and could not see it, although it was looked for most 378 fº HE UAVI VERSAL IAWSTR UCI'OR. perseveringly. He therefore procured a more powerful telescope—one of 34 feet focus, with an aperture of nearly 4 inches, and a power 130—and resumed his watch for the satellite, but still without success. On the 13th Decem- ber, 1672, he suddenly re-discovered it, and continued to watch it until near the end of the month, when it again disappeared and could not be found. On the 23rd December, 1672, Cassini saw a star in the place where the missing satellite ought to be, and thought he he had again re-discovered it, but on the subse- quent day he found it had moved much farther than it could have done had it been the missing Satellite ; yet it was certainly not moving like a star. The suspicion shot across his mind that he might have been so fortunate as to have discovered yet a third satellite. Unless his first observation was imperfect, it seemed to him that this must be so, for no star could have moved like this object. The observations of the 1 IG. 45.-SA TURN. next two or three days settled the matter: it was a new satellite, and one moving round the planet in about four and a half days. Later, Cassini was successful in re-discovering the missing satellite, and he found *** that it periodically disappeared. tions in Whilst - in th te brightness, list moving in the western half of its orbit round Saturn the satellite was bright and distinct, but during the six weeks it was moving in the eastern half of its orbit it remained invisible. The satellite first discovered by Cassini is now called Iapetus, and that afterwards seen is called Rhea, whilst the satellite discovered by Huygens is called Titan. All these satellites moved very nearly in the same plane as the ring, which, according to Picard, is inclined at an angle of 31° to the ecliptic. Exºsºr ºs & A is . . . .2 ºn a ºº::$: §§ #. ºś'Ełºś ºš º THE CONSON ANTS (eontinued). $ 59. Ch. In strictly French words ch = sh before a vowel : chapeau, hat, cheval, horse, chien, dog, chose, thing, chute, fall. Before consonants and at the end of words it = k : aurochs (6 roks'), brachmane (brakman'), chlo- Yure, chrétien, chrestomathie (tie), chronique cochléaria, ichneumon, ichthyolithe (iktiolit"), technique : Brisach, loch, Munich, Hénoch, Roch, schlich, Zurich. REMS.—1. cht = k : yacht =yak, Mastricht, Utrecht. 2. ch =g in drachme. 3. In the following ch final=sh; Auch, Delpech, punch. 4. Almanach (mach = ma), but wºn almanach interessant (na-kin). In the following, mostly derived from Greek, ch, although placed before a vowel, z= k : archažsme, archange, archéologue and derivs., archétype, archiepiscopal, archonte, Bacchus, brachial and all in brachi and brachy, caté- chuméne; words in chale, chamé, chao, chair, chéil, chel, chéir, cher, chil, chir, chism, conchi and conchy, choa, choe, chol, chond, chor, cha- lybé ; words in dicho, inch, isch, psycha, psycho, tracho, tricho, trocha, orché, orchi, chus, lichen, malachite, orchestre; and many proper names. In the following, which have a similar origin, ch, - sh: alchimie, arche, archevêque, archi- diacre, archiduc, architecte, catéchisme, caté- chiste, chérubin, chirurgie and derivs., rachi- tique, stomachique, tachygraphe Achéron, Achille, Archimède, Ezéchiel, Michel. Yet in Michel-Ange (Michael Angelo) ch = k ; machia- vélique and machiavélisme make sh; although Machiavel is pr. Makiavel. § 60. D is pr. like the English d, and dd =d : drame, drama, addition, reddition. It is mute at the end of genuine French words: abord, bavard, pied, chaud, froid, Saint-Cloud, etc. It is heard in Abiad, Cid, David, éphod, jod, lamed, Memrod, Obed, sud, talmud. The articu- lated final d remains a d before a vowel. JDavid arait battat les Philistins, David had beaten the Philistines, say da-vi-da; le Sud-Ouest, the south-west, say le su-douést'; but when the inarticulated final d stands before a vowel it is changed into a t : un grand arbre, a tall tree ; wn profond abème, a deep abyss; entend-il & does he hear 7 coud-elle 2 does she sew 7 il répond & tout, he answers everything ; quand on voudra, whenever it is wished ; Say ta, ta, til, telle, ta, ton. This connection can only take place between words that are grammatically connected—as noun and adjective, preposition and complement, etc.; avoid it therefore in these phrases : l'homme grand et le grand'homme sont deua, ; on le blåme, maisſatº fond il n'a. pas tort; il y a un mid | au bout de cette branche, because there is no grammatical connection between grand and et, fond and il, mid and au. REMs.—1. Words in rd (as also words in rē) make the connection slightly with the r : it tousse comme un remard enfumé (na-ren); 8on. abord a 6tá bienveillant (bo-ra). 2. In fami- liar conversation d in froid, cold, is not con- nected ; in the plur. say des froids eaccessifs = froi-zé; laid preceding its noun is connected ; wn laid animal = un lai-ta, pl. de laids animatºe =lai-za, but say laid a faire pewr =lé à pied, foot, is hardly ever connected out of the phrases pied-à-terre (house of call or occasional lodgings) and pied en cap (cap-à-pie). - § 61. F=English f, and f-f faible, weak, boºfſon, buffoon. It is sounded at the end FREWCH PROWUAVCIATION. 379 of a word: bref, short, décisif, decisive, sauf, except, swif, tallow, etc. This f is carried on : wif-argent (vi-fay), quicksilver, un canif & deva, lames (mi-fa), a double-bladed penknife, etc.; it is still sounded when an s follows it : des canifs à deua, lames (ca-nif-za). Special cases require comment : 1. baeuf, ox, sounds the f, and connects it : mous achetons du baºuf, du bouf à la mode (bow-fa); in bouf gras, bauf salé and plur. boeufs do not sound f. Note also that with f Sounded aeu is open, and with f mute aºu is close : des bandſ's et des vaches, Say baºu-zé. 2. Chef Sounds f in sing. and plur. : un chef habile (ché-fa), des chefs habiles (chéf-za); in chef-d'oeuvre f is mute. 3. Cerf: In order to distinguish this word from serf, a slave, it should always be pr. cér; it is pr. So in cerf-volant, nerf de cerſ, un cerf anta, abois, and in the plur. des cerſ's et des daines (cér-é); otherwise opinions differ. 4. Clef is always pr. clé, and some write it so : ºne clef €normé (clé-é) and des clefs énormes (clé- zé). 5. Nerf sounds and connects fin the sing. : il a du nerf (nerſ’), le newſ optique (nérºfop). But say nér in nerf de baºuf and me?f de cenf; in the plur. elle a ses nerfs = nér. 6. Neuf means (a) new, (b) nine ; (a) Sound the fin sing. and plur. : wn habit neuf, des habits neufs, Châteauneuf; but when the first component is neuf say new : Mezāfehātel, Wexfehâteau, Weuf Brisach. (b) mute before a consonant: meuf colis; neuv' before a vowel ; meſſf amis, neuf heures; neuf' when standing last in a sentence or as an inde- pendent noun : j'en ai dia:-neuf; donnez le neuf de carreau. 7. In auf sound and connect fin the sing. : un (euf à la coque (aeu-fa). In auf frais, aeuf dur, it is optional ; in the plural say aew, des oufs duo's (dē-zaeu-durs); when f is inarticulated the sound aew, is close, as in baeufs above. § 62. G, like the English g, is a soft guttural before the vowels a, o, u, and before consonants : garni, lagume, Gorgone, régle, grimper, frag- ment, 6 nigme, ghetto, Enghien (an-gain), gan- grène. The questions affecting gn and gº have been fully treated in §§ 26 and 54. It is a soft sibilant, like s in pleasure, before e, i, and y : geºme, gibier, gingembré, gypse. Before proper nouns of Saxon origin, as Gessner, Giessen, Geyser, etc., g would be guttural. When the sibilant sound of g is to be pre- served before a, o, or ºt, an e mute is inserted : il mangea, le bourgeois, la gageure. See § 19, e. If the guttural sound is to be retained before e Or i, u is inserted : guerre, war, guimauve, mallow. See § 26. GG = q except when followed by e, when the first g is guttural and the second sibilant : aggraver = agraver, agglomérer = aglomérez', suggérer = sugh-jérer. At the end of a word or a syllable q is not heard : calembourg, Cherbourg, doigt, dºigter, doigtier, étang, faubourg, hareng, legs, Sanff, sangsue, vingt, vingtaine, Wurtemberg. In bourg-épine, joug, zigzag, and some foreign words, such as bourgmestre, Berg, Berg-op- Zoom, Bergheim, grog, mºhig, Zadig, etc., the g is audible. Where the g may be connected it is generally sounded like k : un joug instºp- portable (jou-kin), pl. des jougs insupportables (jough-in), un long espoir (lon-kés), pl. de longs espoirs (lon-zès); aller de rang en rang (ran- Man), pl. des rangs &levés (ran-zé); un Sanſ/ impur (san-kim), un sang illustre (san-kil); wn bourg 6tandu, bour-6, or bourk-6, optional.” § 63. H is never heard in French ; it only serves etymological purposes, in a somewhat erratic manner now and then ; yet in Nor- mandy and some other western parts of France a slight aspiration is perceptible in the people's speech. This, although encouraged by M. Littré, is discountenanced by the Académie and Parisian practice. Nevertheless, the h is called mute and aspirate ; it is mute when it allows elision and contraction, and aspirate when it does not, or when a slight pause is required before it. Since h is not heard in any position— Jia hi he hai han hon heat are read a i é at am on ent and the rhi j'ho d'ha shu l'heu pha are read tâ ri jo da Sig lew fa. There are in French more than 3000 words beginning with J. ; of those between 700 and 800 are aspirated. It would be tedious to give a complete list of the iatter, every dictionary settling besides this matter. We shall give (1) a list of the commonest words ; (2) a few general rules ; and (3) Some special cases. 1. Ha, hāb levy, hache, haffard, haie, haillon, haine, hair, haire, halage, hâte, haleter, halle, hallebarde, halo, haloi", halte, hamac, hamcau, hampe, hamap, hanche, hangar, hanneton, hanter, happer, haguenée, haguet, harangue, haras, han-asser, harceler, hardes, hardi, harem, hareng, harg neua, haricot, haridelle, harnais, hard, harpe, harpie, harpon, hasard, hase, hâte, hau- ban, haubert, haut, hâve, havoc, he, hea ume, hain, hēler, hennir, heraut, hēre, her isson, héron, häros, herpes, herse, hētre, heurter, hibou, hio, hideua, hierarchie, hisser, hoberau, hoche, hocher, hochet, holā, homard, honmir, honfe. hoquet, hoqueton, horde, horion, hormis, horº, hotte, howblon, honte, houille, houle, hottleffe, houppe, hourdage, houri, hour vari, housse, howa, huche, huée, huguenot, huit, hulotte, humer, hune, huppe, hure, hurler, hussard, hutte. 2. (a) Derivatives follow their originals : haut having an asp. h., hawtain, hautbois, haw- tesse, hauteur, etc., are all aspirated. (b) The h in the body of a word maintains its original character : aheurter, enhardis’, cohorte, rehausse”, are read a-eur, en-a”, co-or, re-au, because the h is originally asp. ; abhorrer, bienheatre war, eachwomen', inhabile, are read a-bo, bien-new, e-gzº, i-ma, because the his originally mute. (c) Most proper names coming from the classical languages have a mute h : Hélène, Hippocrate, Horace, Homere, etc. Those de- rived from a Saxon source are aspirated : lo Hanovre, la Hesse, le Holstein, Hull, les Hus- sites, etc. (d) There is not one word beginning with hy that has an asp. h : l'hygiène, l'hymen, etc. 3. The h in héros is asp., but it is mute * The words of foreign origin, as tohig, grog, Zadig, which end with the soft guttural, would not change that soft guttural into a hard one : le grog est à mon goët, do not say gro-ké, but gro-ghe. 380 THE UAVI V ERSAL INSTRUCTOR, in all the derivatives—l'héroïne, l'héroïsme, heroique, heroiquement. One says la Hollande, la Hongrie, but la toile d'Hollande, du fromage d’Hollande, de l’eau de la reine d’Hongrie ; the influence of trade, which has no time to waste on words, makes itself felt here.—Huit is asp. ; le huit de trèfle, quatre-vingt-huit = win-wit’; but dia:-hwit -di-zwit’, and wingt-huit =vin-tuit'.-Hier: le jour d'hier, but in avant- hier it is optional to say avan-ièr or avan-tièr. —In a lofty style Henri is asp. ; in a familiar style it is mute : Jeanne d'Albret, mēre de Henri IV. ; la Henriade, poème épique de TVoltaire; but la mère d’Henri vend des pommes. § 64. J has the sound of the French g before e or i (see § 62): .javane, joue, jujube, cajole, bijou, j'humilie. Be careful never to put the d portion of the letter as it appears in the English word jan, ; j is not a double articula- tion. § 65. K= English k. It only appears in words of foreign origin, and is never mute: arack, Kilomètre, knowt, moka. *~...~~ETºº attºº º fº HISTORY OF ń * * *…* S-sº §§ - sº §: º ºf . YII. THE TUDOR PERIOD IN ENGLAND. Henry VII. and Henry VIII. THE reign of the Tudors is the epoch of the establishment of the Reformation in England ; and the great movement is as closely inter- woven with the rule of those monarchs, as in France with the government of Francis I. and his successors, and in Germany with the history of the emperor Charles V. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, Henry VII., the first of the Tudor sovereigns, sat on the English throne. This king has been much censured by historians for cold- heartedness and cruelty ; but cruel, in the worst sense of the word, he was certainly not. A cruel man would not have twice spared Warbeck, or have flung a con- temptuous pardon to the miserable Simnel. But Henry was profoundly distrustful and persistently selfish. Where his interests came into question, no artifice was too mean, no subterfuge too disgraceful. Sir Thomas More, in his history of Henry, well and con- cisely defines the consequences of the king's inveterate love of secrecy and intrigue : “All Character things, were so covertly, de- of the king meaned,” says Sir Thomas, “one thing pretended and another meant, that there was nothing so plain and openly proved, but that yet, for the custom of close and covert dealing, men had it ever in- wardly to suspect, as many well-counterfeited jewels make the true mistrusted.” His sus- picion and harshness are partly excused by the circumstances of his reign. His title to the Reign of Henry VII, (1485-1509), throne was defective. He derived his sole right from his mother, the Countess of Rich- mond, a descendant of John of Gaunt; but the Somerset branch, to which she belonged, had been expressly excluded from the succession, and the countess was, moreover, still living at Henry's accession. He had seen many members of his house perish by the axe ; and profound hatred of the Yorkist party had become deeply rooted in his nature. He married Elizabeth, the heiress of the rival house, to strengthen his own position ; but he distrusted his gentle and faithful wife, deferred her coronation in an insulting manmer, and took care that in the act of settlement, by which the crown was secured to him, no mention was made of Eliza- beth or her family. Avarice became his lead- ing passion, to the exclusion of ambition itself: the sum of £1,800,000, which he left at his death, bears witness to the rapacity of the first Tudor king. At his accession the English had enthusiastically expected that the old animosi- ties between York and Lancaster would be buried in oblivion. They found themselves wofully deceived. A new King Stork had appeared where King Log was expected; and the general disgust found went in the various revolts that interrupted the tranquillity of the king's reign. Of these revolts, the first was a hasty and ill-considered rising of Yorkist partisans under Lord Lovel and Sir Humphrey Rebellions— Stafford. It ended in the flight Lovel and of Lovel and the execution of his Stafford, coadjutor. Far more important April, 1486, was the rebellion of Simnel, the baker’s son, who was made to assume the character of the Earl of Warwick, the son of Clarence, at that time an imbecile prisoner in therambert Simnel Tower, for it was supported by defeated at the influence and wealth of the Stoke, June 18, Duchess Dowager of Burgundy, 1487. the sister of Edward IV., and by several noble- men of importance. But the battle of Stoke disposed of Simmel’s pretensions once and for all ; and Henry wisely considered that in making a scullion of Simnel he was choosing the most practical way of crushing that un- happy impostor. - Very different in magnitude and gravity was the great treason which taxed all Henry's vigour and ingenuity to combat and subdue—the in- surrection of Perkin Warbeck. e With great skill that pretender wº. played the part of the unfortunate g Richard Duke of York, the younger of the two sons of Edward IV., respecting whose murder in the Tower by order of the Duke of Glouces- ter there is no reasonable doubt. The belief accorded to Perkin's incredible story, not only by the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy, who publicly acknowledged him as her nephew, but by the kings of France and Scotland, all contributed to render the situation perilous and perplexing. Henry met his difficulties with con- summate skill, contriving to turn even the most unfavourable circumstances to his advantage. Already, in 1492, when the treaty of Etaples with Charles VIII. enriched Henry from the coffers of France, as the war had enriched Treaty of Etaples, Nov. 3, 9 º JHISTORY OF MODER W TIMES. 381 him by the sums voted in England for its prosecution,-the astute king had managed “to pluck from the nettle danger the flower safety.” He made the expulsion of Warbeck from France a prime condition of the peace, and took the opportunity of ridding himself, by process of law, of some of his dangerous enemies; while even those who in former days had been instrumental in raising him to the throne of England did not always escape. Thusthe Lord Chamberlain Stanley, the brother of the Earl of Derby, Henry's father-in-law, who had placed the crown on his head on Bosworth field, convicted of treasonable corre- spondence with Warbeck, was executed without mercy ; and every step in the impostor's career was tracked and counteracted by the subtle king, with a practised and persevering duplicity worthy of Louis XI. himself. The treason of Warbeck extended over more than eight years. Expelled from France, he took refuge in Burgundy, pro- Warbeck's tected by the Duchess Margaret, $º. and surrounded by the discon- England tented and the Outlawed among the English nobles and gentry. In 1495 he was repulsed in an attack on Deal, (1491-1499), in the fight on Blackheath, June 22, 1497. Indeed, the extortions of Henry, and his inveterate propensity to Aºdley and the enrich himself at his subjects' ex- #. pense, maintained in the country ...; a smouldering discontent ever 5 * * * * ready to break forth ; but his vigour and capacity were equal to all emergencies; and his common expression, “he desired but to see the rebels,” aptly illustrated his bold policy. Of his skill as a negociator, the various treaties he made bear sufficient wit- ness, especially the Magnus Intercursus, or treaty of commerce between Flanders and England, concluded with Duke Philip the Fair, the father of the Emperor Charles W., in 1496 ; and still more the Malus Intercursus, a second treaty wrung from the necessities of Philip, who had been driven ashore at Wey- mouth, on his way from Flanders to Spain, and was thus to some extent in the power of the English king. The league of Cambray, formed by France, Ger- : of many and the papacy against the jº * } g republic of Venice, was joined by Henry. The confederates of Cambray overran the territory of the republic, but the position VIEW OF OLD LON DO N. and returned to Flanders. Expelled thence, at Henry’s instance, by Duke Philip, he took refuge with James IV. of Scotland, who be- lieved his plausible tale, and gave him the Lady Catherine Gordon, Lord Huntley's fair daughter, for his bride. But never did adven- turer less deserve support. Warbeck was smooth and insinuating, but a coward. When at length, in 1497, he landed in the west, he lost heart at the approach of the royal army, and took sanctuary at Beaulieu, in the New Forest. Delivered into the hands of Henry, he was imprisoned in the Tower, whence he escaped, only to be recaptured, once more committed to custody, and ultimately hanged at Tyburn, in 1499, for a conspiracy to escape, with the imbecile Earl of Warwick, the miserable de- scendant of the Plantagenet kings. The exe- cution of Warwick was a cruel measure ; that unhappy youth was, to use the expression of Holinshed, “a very innocent,” OT completely idiotic. Other insurrections troubled the repose of Henry's reign, the chief being that of the Cor- nishmen who marched into Kent under Lord Audley, Joseph the farrier, and the lawyer Flammoy, and were so signally put to rout of the city itself amid the lagoons enabled it to bid defiance to them. The league was broken up by the secession of Pope Julius, who had only joined it for personal motives. The reign of Henry was useful to the country, and contrasts favourably with the stormy period that preceded it. The abolition of the old feudal right of “maintenance,” in virtue of which the barons had surrounded themselves with great numbers of vassals, who lived at their expense, and were always ready to fight in their quarrels, curbed the formerly exor- bitant power of the great houses; e and the Statute of Liveries, rigidly #:#; enforced by the jealous king, was nry V LL. another step in the same direction, by imposing a tax of five pounds per month for each re- tainer, thus rendering the expense of a large retinue ruinous even to a noble. The old feudal power of the barons was gone, and Henry took care that it should not revive. There was no room, in his scheme of polity, for a “Warwick the King-maker.” The Statute of Fines also facilitated the sale of estates by impoverished nobles to rich commoners; and gradually a new nobility arose from among the people, far less military and autocratic 382 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. than the barons of former days. The condition of the people generally was rapidly improving. Villeinage, the state of bondage which attached the serf to the soil as part of the estate, was now rare; many peasants held land by copy- boldtenure; and the kingdom increased rapidly in wealth, by the spread of commerce and the improvement of manufacture, especially that of woollen cloth. Hallam enumerates five points that guarded the liberty of the subject against the authority of the king: firstly, that no new tax could be levied except by consent of Parlia- ment; secondly, that no new law could be made except by assent and authority of Parliament ; thirdly, a warrant was necessary before a man could be imprisoned, and every accused person was to be tried at the next Sessions held after his committal; fourthly, in the county where the offence was said to have occurred, the accused person must be pub- licly tried by a jury; and fifthly, the servants of the king were responsible to any man whom they might injure, and could not plead the king's command as an excuse for an unlawful act. On the other hand, the establishment of the Court of Star Chamber, which overrode the The Star decisions of the regular tribunals, G. inflicted punishments of atrocious severity, and became indeed a mere instrument of tyranny in the sovereign's hands, seems to point out this reign as the commencement of an arbitrary and despotic period; but the Tudors, though high-spirited and peremptory, and sufficiently inclined to tyrannize over Parliament and people alike, had no standing army. Henry's yeomen of the guard and buffetiers or “beefeaters” were barely sufficiently numerous to keep watch and ward in the royal residences; and thus, as Macaulay points out, the Tndors were com- pelled to rule on popular principles, as they had no force to oppose to an outbreak of revolt, if the rising had become general. much of the outward appearance of despotism, their rule was essentially popular ; for a des- potism cannot exist without an army readily available to compel obedience. Not only was serfdom gradually dying out in England : other mediaeval customs were ge going with it. “The benefit of . clergy,” by which many a layman oyed, * who could just manage to read a verse of Scripture, or a legend of a saint, had saved his neck, was to be pleaded only once by a criminal; and the right of Sanctuary was also greatly restricted. Various good laws date from the reign of Henry. These are highly praised by Lord Bacon, who pronounces them “deep but not vulgar; not made upon the spur of a particular occasion for the present, but out of providence for the future, to make the estate of his people more and more happy.” In nothing was the transition from feudalism to constitutional government more marked than in the gradually increasing power of the law courts, though these were at times grievously hampered by the Star Chamber. Improvement in laws, Thus, with iſ , , s: º, sº Ng. Sº ºS ºš YIII. THE COMPARISON OF ADJECTIVES AND ADVERBS. ALMOST all adjectives, and some adverbs (especially those derived from adjectives), have three degrees of comparison, the Positive, the Comparative, and the Superlative, as:– Positive. Comparative. altus, high altior, higher In English the ending er and the word more are signs of the comparative degree, and the ending est and the words most and very are signs of the Superlative ; but in Latin the rules for forming the comparative and superlative degrees are as follow — 1. Adjectives ending in us pure (i.e. preceded by a vowel) form the comparative degree by "magis, more, and the superlative by maazimé, most; as dubius, doubtful, magis dubius, more doubtful, maazimé dubius, most doubtful. 2. Adjectives ending in us impure, and other adjectives, change i or is of the genitive into ion' for the comparative, as durus, hard, durior, harder, felia, happy, felicior, more happy. 3. Adjectives in er form the superlative by adding ºmits to the positive, as pulcher, beautiful, pulchrior, more beautiful, pulcher- ºrimus, most beautiful; and celer, celerior, celer- ºrimus, Swift, swifter, swiftest; vetus, ancient, makes veterrimus, most ancient (from which we get the English word veteran). 4. Adjectives in dicus, fiews, völus, are com- pared in ention for comparative, and entissimus for Superlative degree : as mālūdicus, abusive, ºnaledicentier, more abusive, maledicentissimus, most abusive; beneficus, beneficial, beneficentior, beneficentissimus ; benevolus, benevolent, bene- volentioz', benevolentissimus. 5. Six adjectives form the superlative degree by changing is into limus: facilis, easy, similis, like, gracilis, slender, difficilis, difficult, dis- similis, unlike, humilis, lowly. Superlatives, facillimºts, simillimus, gracillimus, humillimus. 6. Adjectives of irregular comparison — Bonus, good, melior, better, optimus, best. Malus, bad, pejor, worse, pessimus, worst. Magnus, great, major,greater, maarimus, greatest. Parvus, small, minor, less, minimus, least. Multus, much, plus, more, plurimus, most. Nequam, wicked, nequior, more wicked, nequis- simus, most wicked. Dives, rich, divitior or dition', more rich, divi- tissimus or ditissimus, most rich. Eaſterws, outward, eacterior, more outward, ea:- frémus or eaſtámus, outermost. Inferus, low, inferior, lower, infimus or imus, lowest. Superus, high, superior, higher, Supremus or summus, highest. Posterws, late, postremus or postumus, last. Deater, propitious, deacterior, more propitious, deactimus, most propitious. IZATIAW. 383 Juvenis, young, junior (natu minor), younger, natu minimus, youngest. Senea, old, senior (natu major), elder, natu anaa'imus, eldest. Some adjectives in the comparative and superlative degrees are formed from prepo- sitions; as from Intra, within, interior, inner, intimus, inmost. Ultra, beyond, ulterior, farther, ultimus, far- thest. Citra, on this side, citerior, hither, citimus, hithermost. Prope, near, propio", nearer, proacimus, nearest Or next. P. before, prior, former, primus, foremost or rSt. Some adjectives have no positive to which they can be referred; as Deterior, worse, deterrimus, worst. Oeyor, swifter, oeyssimus, Swiftest. Potior, more desirable, potissimus, most desi- rable. Observe that deterior is less good, but pejor is more bad; the former may be used of good things, but the latter only of bad things. Plus is thus declined :- Singular. Plural. Neut. only. Masc. and Fem. Neut. N. plüs plürés plūrā A. plus plürés plürá G. pliris plürium (of all genders) D. [pluri] plüribús (of all genders) A. pluré plūrībūs (of all genders) The English word “than” after the com- parative is translated by the Latin quân (indeclinable), and takes after it the same case that goes before it. Adverbs derived from adjectives are generally compared in the same way, except that the comparative degree ends in is, and the super- lative degree in e, as follows. Dignits (adj.), worthy, digniór, more worthy, dignissimiis, most worthy. Digna, worthily, digniiis, more worthily, dig- missłmã, most worthily. Audair, (adj.), bold, audaciór, bolder, audā- cissémits, boldest. Audaeter, boldly, audācās, more boldly, audā- cissômé, most boldly. Gravis (adj.), heavy, graviór, heavier, gravis- simus, heaviest. Gravitär, heavily, gräviäs, more heavily, gra- vissimé, most heavily. So :— Sopa, often, sapiiis, oftener, sapissimé, most often. Diä, long, diatiiis, longer, diºtissimé, longest. Irregular comparison — Multum, much, plus, more, plurimum, most. Magnºpéré, greatly, mägis, more, maſcimé, most. Questions for Self-Evamination and Evercises. How many degrees of comparison are there? What kind of adverbs admit of comparison 7 Give examples. tives formed in English, and how in Latin Give the rules for forming the comparative and How is comparison of adjec- ſ superlative degrees of adjectives ending in us pure, and those ending in us impure. How do you compare adjectives ending in er, licus, ficus, volts, and Some ending in lis' Make a list of the adjectives of irregular comparison. Decline plus, and distinguish deterior from pejor. Translate into English :— Hoe aurum regis est clarius quâm argentum pueri. Ultima regio terrarum est proxima maximo mari. Pluribus hominibus est minima pecunia. Filia pulcherrima est multo pulchrior quám mater pulchra. Sententiae judicum erunt maximè dubiae. Mors felicior erit quâm vita. Maledicentissimus erat hominum. Vita saepissimè erit non felix, et plurimis nubibus atra. Caesar erat deterior quam Cicero, orator summus Romanorum. Translate into Latin :- In this greatest of cities is the greatest of all Roman ‘Orators. This sea is deeper than the deepest sea. The virtue of the man is inferior to Socrates’ virtue. Now is the year very beautiful to the eyes of all men. Boys have (render ‘there are to boys') the best books on the best subjects (render ‘things’). The high- est philosophy is the highest love of God. This man is the most benevolent of men in the city. Silver is brighter than the moon, and the sun is brighter than gold. These men are for a very long time not very happy. XIV. T H E P R O N O U N S. The pronoun is, you know, a word used in- stead of a noum (and is derived from pro, instead of, nomine, a noun), and is declined generally with number, case, and gender, like the noun. Some pronouns are substantives and some are adjectives. Substantive pronouns are either personal or reflective. Adjective pronouns are either possessive, de- monstrative, relative or interrogative, and cor- 7'elative. The personal (from persona, a person) pro- nouns are ego, I, and twº, thou. The reflective (from reflecto, to bend back) pronoun is sui, of himself, herself, itself, them- selves (both singular and plural, without a nominative). The possessive (from possideo, to possess) pronouns are ºneus, mime, twºs, thine or your, suus, his, her, or its own, moster, ours, vester, yours, or of you or ye. The demonstrative (from demonstro, to point out) pronouns are hic, this man here, is, that man (near you), ille, that man (yonder), iste, that of yours, idem, the same, ipse, Self or very. The relative (from relatus, brought back) pronoun is qui, who. Its compounds are, quidam, a certain one, quivis, any one you wish, quicumque, whosoever, quilibet, any one you fancy. The interrogative (from interrogo, to ask) pronoun is quis, who, Its compounds are, aliquis, somebody, eggwis, whether any, quisman, | 384 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. pray who 7 quisque, every one, quisquam, any one, quispian, somebody, wrvusquºisqué, each One, Siqttis, amy. Demonstrative Relative and Interrogative The correlative pronouns are those which de- note a relation to some other person expressed or understood, and are as follow :- Indefinite Relative Indefinite tālis, of such a kind qualis, of such a kind as (rel.); of what kind (interr.) quantiis, so great as (Tel.); how great (interr.) tantús, so great quët (indecl.), so many as (rel.); how many (interr.) tôt (indecl.), so many; totidem (indecl.), just so many quàlislibet, of any kind you please qualiscumqué, quâlis- qualis, of what kind SOeWel' quantuscunqué, quan- tus quantus, how great Soever āliquantiis, of a cer- tain, considerable size quantuslibit, quantus- vis, of any size you fancy or please āliquot (indecl.), Some number, quotlibét (indecl.), any number you please quotcumqué, quotguêt, how many soever XIII. STUDY OF WORDS SHOWING THE USE OF “WON” INSTEAD OF THE GENITIVE. (To be committed to memory.) 2ſuá bag bie & adjen gemad)f ſtnb. 07/88 vass dee cach'-en ge-macht' zìnt OUT (OF) WHAT THE THINGS MADE ARE. 3}ct ©tbuſ) iſ pon', 89ber, bie &einivamb pon daye shoe ist ſon lay'-de,” dee line'-want fon The shoe is of leather, the linen Of §taſſjö, flaw flax, 3)er 3.5gſer pom 3iſber, bie &erse oom dare tahl'-er” fon zil'bery dee kay'ste fon The dollar of silver, the taper of §adjö, Q}{{{U} Wax, ©er ºrfer pen º’eſſing, ber ſtamm iſ: dare moe.7"-ze??" ſon mess'-ing dare kamm ist The mortar of brass, the comb is pon Öorm, fon honºrn of horn, ©er £eſſeſ port ſtupfer, bon Gºtaſſiſt ber da”6 kess'-el ſon kup' ſer, fox staal ist dare The kettle of copper, of steel is the ©porn, spoºn Spur, 3)er ©djúſſeſ’ pon (£iſen, ber ºnopf iſ gon daye Shlues'-sel fon iſ-zen daro knoppfist fon The key of iron, the button is of 98ein, bine bone, 9q8 ºud) iſ bon Soſſe, bie J'auer bon Gºtein' d488 tooch ist fon vo!'-le dee mom'er fon stine The cloth is of wool, the wall of stone, Øie &ſiuſe bon SDRarmor, bie Stugeſ" bon SBſet, dee zoá'-lefon marr'-morr dee koo'-gel fon bly The pillar of marble, the ball (bullet) of lead $on (joſb ſtub Qutatem, qué Jºeffſ iſt ber fon, gollt zint doo-kah/-ten ouss male ist dare Of gold are ducats, of meal is the $3rci, br/ porridge Qūtā Şoſ; iſt ber Staſtem," bon &orf iſt ber ouss holts ist dare kast'-em fon corrk ist dare Of wood is the box, of cork is the ‘pfrogſ, pfro/Af stopper (prop), 2ſuá (ºſad iſt bie şſaſſie, oom 3:00m iſt ber 3 opf. ouss glass ist dee flash'-e ſon tone ist dare topf. Of glass is the bottle, of clay is the pot. - - - OBSERVATIONS. * The genitive case signifies possession, and thus has the sign “ of º when “of” signifies “bélonging to ”: thus, Qūš 23rillen beş Şigers, the roaring of the tiger dass bruel’-len dess teeg'-errs (the roar belonging to the tiger), but @ie (§eſtbitſte won g dee ge-shich’-te fon beni Siger is the story concerning the tiger. Thus or dame teeg'-err is rendered in German by 90m, (which always has the dative case after it) When it means “concerning,” and also when of designates the material of which a thing is made. Thus: Qer Jitter (90t; won 3ertidulgen , dare rit-terºgoets fon bairrº-lich-ing-en ſagte won feiner red ten śamb; 3%r ſcºt fic iſ won zagch'-te Jom zy'-mer recht'-en hand eerr zayt zee isst jom Giſen. The knight Götz (Godfrey) of Berlichingen said 6?36)? 9F (concerning) his right hand: “You see, it is or (constructed of) iron.” Götz had lost a hand at the Siege of Landshut: and an iron one had been made for him, with which he could hold his lance. 2 we ºwº * &öttiſtſ is connected with bič Šćſoft, the lock shlweg'-sel (also the castle), and means literally the locker or instrument for locking. * The word ºuge! is also used for a cannon-ball. It is then called Stanoncil-Wujcſ. 4 kah-no'-men-koogel. © ; is used for wood, as a material, and also in the O! ºs meaning of a wood, or forest. The English word Holt (Fairholt, Knockholt, etc.) comes from $0ſ. 9er Raftem, the box; bie ſtific, the chest: "Riflem dare kast'-en der kiss-ſe kiss'-tem unº ºften ſecrett fid, fºiletſ," boxes and chests empty tamf, kass'-ten lair'-3'en sich shnell themselves quickly, is a German proverb. $ } < t t ; ſ Algebra. tº ANATOMY : V. Animal. Comparative. Human. Arithmetic. Astronomy. i Biography. Book-keeping. Botany. Chemistry. CoMMERCE: History. }. Fractice. Drawing. ſ Electricity. Elocution. \, English Grammar. English Literature. Ethnology. S ExPERIMENTAL, PHILO. SOPHY : d Magnetism. Electricity. Galvanism." Heat. w Light. \ Chemistry. Sound. Meteorology, &c. &c. FINE ARTs: Drawing. \ Perspective. Sketching from Na- ' ture." Music. Singing. -, French Language. French Literature. Galvanism. \ GEOGRAPHY : Physical. Political. ) \ | | } r \ * - - - Geology. Geometry. German Language. German Literature. Greek Language. Greek Literature. Health. Heat. HISTORY : Ancient. Sacred. Mediaeval, Modern. Great Britain Ireland. Hydrostatics. Italian Language. Italian Literature. Land-surveying. \ LANGUAGES : Ancient— Latin. Greek. Modern— French. German. , Italian. Spanish. Latin Language Latin Literature. Light. LITERATURE: . Ancient— Roman. Greek. Modern— English. French. , German. Italian. Spanish. *— j | | | | | and WARD & LOCK'S UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR 60WTAIWS ALL WECESSARY DIRECTIONS FOR ACQUIRIWG PROFICIENCY - IN THE FOLLOWING AMONG 07HER SUBJECTS : Logarithms. Machines & Machinery. Magnetism. MATHEMATICS : Arithmetic. Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry, &c. MECHANICAL | PHILo- SOPHY : Mechanics. Hydrostatics. Hydraulics. Pneumatics. Mensuration. Meteorology. Mineralogy. Music. NATURAL HISTORY: Mineralogy. Geology. Botany. Zoology. \\ Animal Physiology. Human Physiology. Vegetable Physiology Comparative Ana- tomy, &c. Perspective. - Physiology, Animal. Physiology, Human, Pneumatics. Reading. Shorthand. Singing. Sketching from Nature. Sound. Spanish Language. Spanish Literature. Trigonometry. Writing. Zoology. PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS MONTHLY. r NEw York: THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. SOME OPINIONS OF THE BRITISH PRESS - ON wARD AND LOCK's Universal Instruſt). This Work has been reviewed by a very large number of Newspapers and Literary and Educational Periodicals throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland, and in all cases favourably. The following are a few selections — “THE WORK IS ExCELLENT, AND IT IS TO BE HOPED IT MAY MEET WITH THE POPULARITY IT DESERVES.”—The Athenaeum. “We have waited to see the second part before expressing an opinion upon Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor; or, Self-Culture for All,” and find the promise of the opening more than fulfilled now that the subjects are beginning to advance. . . . . The various authors have evidently laboured to condense the greatest amount of information into their lessons, and while helping beginners, they in no way overlook the requirements of students who need higher instruction. The comprehensive excellence of the work is combined with cheap- ness, and thus it offers an undoubted boon to those who wish to enrich their minds and improve their position by self-culture.”—London Daily Chronicle. “We are pleased with this first part, and can imagine the wealth of advantage which many young students will gain from its use. It is well printed on good paper of a handy size. . . . ... It is a very cheap and useful publication.”—The Christian World. “The first number is a storehouse of knowledge in itself, and at the first start a good selection of subjects are dealt with. The contributors include some of the best known men in their various de- partments of knowledge. . . . . . The work pro; mises to be one difficult to excel as a means of imparting educational knowledge for everyone."— The Derby Telegraph. “We can heartily recommend this new publica- tion to all who are desirous of self-culture; the contributions, as well as the illustrations, are all gºod.º.Sheffield Telegraph. “The work, which is well got up, is an important and valuable addition to the educational literature of the day.”—Bristol Mercury, “We do not hesitate to say that the ‘Universal Instructor,” when completed, will, to those who carefully study its pages, prove to be one of the greatest educational blessings which have emanated from any publishing firm. . . . . . We should rejoice to know that this most valuable work was to be found in every family.”—Derbyshire Gazette, “We feel assured that the publication will be productive of much good, as it appears to be admir- ably adapted to the requirements of all classes of students.”—Western Daily Mercuºy. *} ** * ſ “It promises to be a work of undoubted merit, and of real value. . . . . We predict for it much acceptance by those who desire to acquire learning and to become well-informed men.”—The Educa. tional Chronicle. | “All the subjects are treated in an easy, simple, clear, comprehensive manner; and from a careful perusal of the present part, we can safely recom- mend the work as one of sterling merit.”—Dundee Courier. “The more we see of this admirable work the more we think of it. Every subject is made so clear, and is expressed in so simple and definite language, that every one may learn himself. We know no better book for self-cultivation, and it will form a good library in itself when completed.”— Dundee Advertiser, ! “We cannot too highly praise ‘Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor.' . . . . It will be a treasure to all who wish to improve their knowledge; and the excellent character of the publication is fully main- tained in the current issue."—Boston Guardian. “A more useful work than this no man could provide for a son or a daughter of studious turn.”— The Chelmsford Chronicle. “So worthy of popular estimation does it seem to us, that we are convinced that if one number is purchased the whole series will be taken, and it cannot be too highly spoken of.”—East Anglian Daily Times. ... ' “There will never cease to be many fields and abundant scope for self-instruction, and always a large number of students to whom such a work will be a welcome boon.”—School Board Chronicle. “The impression which a glance through its pages has left upon us is one of extreme satis-- faction. . The nature of the subjects taken up and the admirable manner in which they are treated in the part before us, place this work in advance of some other publications that claim to be cyclo- paedic in their scope, and similar in their character, i. . . . . But the great number of subjects on which, instruction is conveyed is not the only feature of the work which commands admiration. The man- ner of teaching is a matter of no less importance, and this is in every case practical, clear, and intel- ligible.”—The Weekly Budget, kº. NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. j A G. j O 5. Partz uls. [Price 25 Cents. > * * * * * * * ~ * > *-- * *- º ANATO MY ºr - || ARCH TECTURE ARITH METIC ºr ASTRON O MY -- B O C R A PHY : BotANY . . . . . CHEMISTRY 8 || § - º º º/ § º º & Cº tº gº Cº. lºs Sº, Bºy º tº a º ºs ºstrº g ſyſtſ Sºº - we evºw ºs CEOLOGY . . . CEO METRY -. GERMAN - - - - GRANMMAR - , GREEK • * * HISTORY - - - TAll AN & LAT | N - - f. LO GARTH NAS • LOC I C - - - - MRCNETISM Nº ECHAN CS - NAENSURATION METEoRolody. N11 NERALO CY “ MUSIC * * - NAVICATION ºr PAl NT N C ºr " PENMAN SH 1 F - PERSPECTIVE • PHYSICS • PHYSOLO CY - SHORT-HAND SPPANISH . . . STEAM-ENG IN E SURVEY'ſ NC TF 1 CONOP1 ETRY C C C Ç 3. & % C •º º & N º - | A C E B F A • * * Book-keeping || CEocRAPHY : T. Complete in 36 Monthly Parts. -r-v----------º- ----- --&---------------- - • *-* w w w "w Y ------ - - Lº::...ºr . . ; ---------- # “ABOVE ALL THINGS STUDY.” - a s s = < * , ºr, s = e : º º 2.82.5 S. tº º Sºº ºº:: * ſº e = i º i i :§ 5. | º ; tº º º & Nº g C Fº Cºº tº º º º ºn ºf §º § º gº º - El g § §) º º º \; ºr sº º º Tºm º ºsº º º & Tº & cºrrºrſººt ºc Qº. Rººsºvº.r, ſufúñultuuſiſ||RIIITU HºlſtillHIIIMIUIHEduſIIIHElliºuſ ſhºulinurſinuºulºitiriliittººlºlillºllutiºn, . li j Q., —-ke)4- ºf ULLY- *ILLUSTRATED, AGENTS FOR AMERICA : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY, 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New York. Eº- -- ~~~ : *** -- * * : * ºr ºººº. T = | —x- º THE NEW SERIAL FOR SELF-EDUCATORs. . Forming the Cheapest and most Useful Work ever issued for the People. t t PRICE 25 CENTs, MonTHLY. # w A R D & LOC K's UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR; Or, Self-Culture for All. t ... with PART I. is PRESENTED GRATIs a valuable CHART OF THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, and with PART III, a CHART illustrating the INTELLECTUAL AND' MATERIAL PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. - ! RecognisiNG the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exists for carefully prepared | literature suited to the wants of Self-Educators, WARD, LOCK & Co. have prepared a Serial Work of an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete Encyclopædia of Learning, meeting the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such features as will, the Publishers confidently believe, give it a marked superiority over every similiar undertaking. The comprehensive- ness of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illustrations, the convenience of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominent position. IT CANNOT BE TOO OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, for, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure. Hence naturally arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on better terms with those around, not only in business but in social life? This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR undertakes to anSWer. \ THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will be nothing short of a University at Home, and will admirably suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning. \ At the same time, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will not overlook the wants of those more fortunately situated. It will contain exact information on every subject likely to be useful to those able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. -y THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will cover the whole field of knowledge. They will extend, as will be seen from the list given on page_3, from the most elementary to the most advanced, and, taken together, will form a perfect system of Intellectual Culture. The latest thought of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, will find adequate répresentation; and whilst we would avoid pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in affirming that our lessons will prove eminently lively and interesting. \ THE WRITERs will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics with which they deal, and in . the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, will the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR be more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. But THE OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will not be only to impart learning and make well-informed men. It will always be kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to lead wiser and better lºves. The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR will endeavour to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making students, it fails to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. SUCH, then, being the OBJECTs and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the Publishers confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not?—in the elevation of the people, the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will be slow, to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations so elevated. \ “@fighe all thingá, Ātutin. Uſabether fur tije flake of Icarning or fur any other reagan, gtung. jar tubatcher the mutige; that impel muu at first, puu will ſcrp guait Iqbe stung for its uſun gaſtø.” * i } rº For Zist of Subjects included in THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, and for opinions of the British Press, see pages 3 and 4 of cover. \ \ y NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS.com PANY. . . +– *** *. \ G EAE.M.A.M. 385 STUDY IN GERMAN CALLIGRAPHY practice to write a few lines—the foregoing, for & instance—from memory, after having learnt N.B.--When a certain facility in writing the them by heart, and then to compare the result German character has been acquired, it is good with the copy, as given below :- /2% /2% ſº Ap 6.2 24.2% Ž*22. e DIE DREI RAUBER. /2%2. £t2%. zzer”,” * 24.2%. zzzzzzz Drei Räuber ermordeten und plinderten einen 22%az. Ž. 4.4%, 2%.4° zza.” 2.4% 222 Kaufmann. Sie brachten das geraubte Geld in 24. £/42 * 2%. 2% Z2-222 2” *4% 2%, ihre Höhle, und der jüngste von ihnen muszte dann * 2° 24′2%, ... -24.4%.4%a 2.4%. in die Stadt gehen, und Lebensmittel . einkaufen. * g e/ * - Z2%” 2ZZº /…" zz2-czzº, 2%ra. %22 2% 2” 2” * .” Als er fort, war, sprachen Zwei einander : die ZUl 4 ſº. 4° 2, 2% %22.4% z 2% ‘CZ. 2ZZZ 22.2% Z422%222 22z/2. 2222 2&22 - / WiT “Was sollen diesen Reichthum mit dem e-e 2. o 2 * e.” Ap zz -%2% 2ZZZ %. 2 Ž42, Zºº” 2”.4 22*. Burschen theilen 2 Wann er zurückkommt, wollen zzzzz. 2. ”””. 2%,…, 2% A 2%. & Wir ihn erstechen. Dann gehört sein Antheil ele elf */ 2.2%ZZ • 3 auch Ull].S. - 2%, 2% %2% 2%22% º 42 ZZ” 2”y % ^2. Z” &Z-Czzz.” *C2-ZZºZ/Z 22 zzey •” Der junge Räuber aber dachte unterwegs : aſ?" * Aº 2%& Az - gº - 2% 2% Ž 2 pp2% - 2.2% & ZZZZººZz 22°C&^2 22.2%zzzz C2%ZŽ 2.22%22% Ø 9. 2. “Wie gliicklich wäre ich Wre]]ll alle' diese Schätze ZZZZZZZZ Z/2ZZZ”2%ZZ . 22. zzzz 22.2%zzzz yze” tº 22%2%-C& Z/2Zzz mein wären | Ich Will meine Zwei Kameraden e e z e e.V. te & zºº 22.2%% %Žzz2 2% 4.22% 2%. %2. 222.22% º 2%ZZZ, Ž vergiften, SO bleibt der Reichthum WII, allein.” EP 4.2% zº, 2%, 2.2% -2.242,42,22222 22% & 4, 22. %22%2.2%. 22. Z.Z.2% Z4% 2%-CºA:2-(222222-2 222 22422 zzzzz, kaufte in der Stadt Lebensmittel und Wein ein, - zze 2%. 4%. ſº * 2%4 2%Žzzzz y”.4 that in den Wein Gift, und kehrte dann Zurück. WOL. I. 25 386 THE UNIVERSAI, INSTRUCTOR, .* © 2 g // * Z2%.” ZºZº. ZZZ 2% % 4a 4 /ºr”; 232 2% * Oft ihre eignem Als er in die Höhle trat, Sprangen die audern * % y” 22*%2%. 2. 2%. 2%% 22% %ry2 auf ihn ZUl und stieszen ihm. ihre Dolche ins Herz, 24% 22% 24.2% 22*. –24.2%, /24 %22ra^/444, /* (lasz er todt /. Boden fiel. Hierauf Setzten sie 2% Že, ~4”-4*. 2%. *22%4. %229 * sich hin, 2SZ62)] tranken den vergifteten Wein, und /* 224. 2%, /%2.2%, %.” ZZZZ, ** - starben unter den schrecklichsten Schmerzen. . Rings 22, 2%. “%. tºº 2%26.2% %24”. /* * ~2% V. Ol' den aufgehäuften .* * fand Iſla, Il alle 2%z. 24.2% drei todt. - . e 2.2% 494/ 2% –2%.Z /* wº £2%.2 Gott läSzt die Bösen, hier auf Erden, % %. zy” %2.2%. 2&2.22%22%2, Henker werden. XII. ETYMOLOGY : Classification of Words. § 89. V. The Adverb. § 90. Adjectives as adverbs. § 91, 92. Classification of adverbs. $ 93. Relative adverbs. § 94, Adverbs are movable. § 95. VI. Prepositions. § 96. Adverbial prepositions. § 97. Different forms of prepositions. $89. W. As there is the word which added to a noun distinguishes or describes it (the adjective), so there is a word which added to the verb describes its action: the adverb modi- jies or qualifies the assertion of the verb. The man runs swiftly; here sniftly shows hon, the man runs, in what manner. John has cut his hand badly, I shall soon go out, These are very large apples, You are truly good, Where thou goest I will go, He is very greatly mistaken, It is farther off. Adverbs tell the how, when, and where of an action: How did John cut his hand? —badly; When do you go out?—soon : Where is it l—farther off. (It will be recognized that the old game of “How 7 When 7 and Where 7” was nothing but an exercise in finding adverbs to the verb “like.” Did a utilitarian School- master invent it 7) Adverbs may be also used mith adjectives, or with other adverbs, to modify, emphasize, or otherwise qualify their meaning : I am quite tired, She is very tall; quite and very em- phasize the adjectives “tired” and “tall.” Truly qualifies “good,” very affects the adverb “greatly,” in the examples given above. “Hon. did she act?—wisely, but not too nell.” Here we have two adverbs modifying a third. Many adverbs end in ly, but it is not quite Safe to take this always as the sign of one ; it belongs to a few adjectives—as a manly heart, her only child, a godly life, a comely woman, a goodly fortune. Many of the words in ly now recognised as adverbs were once adjectives; the suffix ly is the remains of lic= like: a manly heart is a man-like heart. The May Queen says, “I only wish to live, mother,” where only means one-like—i.e. I have one wish. In the north of England the full ending is still in use: a poor woman Will complain that “she feels bad-like all over.” $90. Many monosyllabic and other adjectives are used as adverbs—as, We speak fast, They worked hard, “Sure I had drunken in my dreams,” He breathes hard, 'Tis marvellous good wine. It is not to be supposed that these uses are ungrammatical; they were really ad- JøMG Z.Z.S.FI GRAMM-4. R. 387 verbs in the older English, distinguished from the adjectives by the adverbial ending e, which having dropped off, has left no difference be- tween the adjective and adverb. The tendency now is to add ly as the sign of the adverb. Custom appears to settle the matter, and the use of adjectives as adverbs is not justified against good custom. “ Kiss me quick, and go” has historic sanction; modern usage tends to say, “Kiss me quickly:” this usage evidently will not extend, however, to such words as much, ovell, little, etc. e “If 'twere well dome, ’twere well 'twere done quickly.” Here the first ºvell is an adverb, the second an adjective (completing the predicate with the copula ºvere). “He little thought mºhen he set out”;I have been much grieved, we should not Say muchly grieved. § 91. Adverbs are a mixed company, being for the most part formed from other parts of speech, not only from adjectives (as seen above), but from pronouns, different forms of nouns, and compounds of prepositions and nouns. Some of them also are closely connected with the conjunctions (see under §§ 93, 99). Their history will be considered further on, but this explains why it is not always easy at first glance to determine whether a word is an adverb or not. For convenience they may be classified into four groups, according to their meaning (their derivation would give quite different groups). § 92. Table of Adverbs. I. Time. (The when class.) When them, now, Soon, formerly, latterly, presently, at present, after, afterwards, first, last, imme- diately, already, before, yesterday, to-day, to-morrow, ago, betimes, forthwith, by-and-by, lately, still, ever, never, again, Once, often, daily. n II. Place. (The where class.) Where? hither, thither, whither, hence, thence, whence, here, there, everywhere, anywhere, elsewhere, nowhere, yonder, upwards, downwards, side- ways. - III. Manner—the largest group ; nearly all those derived from adjectives come within this class. (The how class.) How 7 well, ill, badly, wisely, so, thus, too, full, all,” quickly, firmly, etc.; very, quite, almost, more, most, less, least, altogether, together ; likely, perhaps, indeed, yes, truly, certainly ; no, not, nay ; much, little, enough, partly, half, entirely, wholly; probably, perchance. IV. Cause and effect. (The why class.) Why? wherefore, whence, therefore, thence. Each of the three first groups may be split up again and Sorted out in divisions, but the simpler arrangement is easier for practical reference. There are also a great many short phrases which are used in place of adverbs, and which can only be called adverbial ex- pressions—such as at best, in vain, by-and-by, for the future, of course, at once, on purpose, by chance, close to, on account of, instead of, and many more. § 93. The adverbs which contain a sense resembling that of the relative pronouns (they * As in “Pull well he knew,” “All bare he stood.” i are in truth formed from some of them) are those which are sometimes confounded with conjunctions, as they perform an important part in the joining together of subordinate sentences to their principals. They are when, where, wherefore, nyſty, while, etc. As examples, take these sentences (the “complex sentence” will be examined further on, § 99) —I go to dinner ºvhen you come in, He walks where he can, He is blind, wherefore he cannot see. “I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Why, so can I, or so can any man.” IIen. IV., Pt. I. “Daily near my table steal While I pick my Scanty meal.”—LANGEroRNE. § 94. An adverb, then, is to be known by its answering one of the questions how ! why Ž when 7 where ! If the student is yet in doubt, let him try if the word is movable in the sentence. I have still a shilling left, still I have a shilling left, I have a shilling still left. Here we can put the adverb still, which modifies the verb have left, into three different positions while preserving the same sense; and this power of movability is a convenient test in the case of most adverbs connected with verbs. It does not apply to the adverb quali- fying an adjective or another adverb, which is usually close to the word it affects. - § 95. VI. Having got the noun and the verb, with the three classes of words which surround them, we find that something is needed to connect the words together, and at the same time to define the relation of the One to the other. A word that expresses the position (1) of a moun to a noun (or to a pronoun), and (2) of a noun to a verb (or a verb and adjec- tive), is called a preposition; as-The book is on the table, He is in the room, The cat goes out of doors, She ran along the shore. These examples relate to place only ; we can also express the relations of things to one another and of things to their verbs and adjectives, with regard to time, manner, cause, and in so many other ways that it is hardly possible or useful to attempt to classify them. If it is borne in mind that the preposition always joins a noun (which it generally precedes) to some other orord, defining its relation to that word, little difficulty will be found in recognizing it. “One morn. I miss'd him on th’ accustom’d hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came, nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; The next, with dirges due, in Sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him - borne.” GRAY. In the above lines, the prepositions on, along, near, connect the pronoun “him " to the mouns “hill,” “heath,” “tree”; beside, up, at, connect the verb “was '' with “rill,” “lawn,” and “wood"; with, in, and through connect the participial adjective “borne" to “dirges,” “array,” and “church-way.” The ground is white with rime. Adjectives joined He is greedy of gain. to mouns. A Sman of words and not of decds. U Nouns joined to A wall behind the door. lıOllllS. Thomas finds you out. Verbs joined to rouns John stands by the wicket, I Went to toWn. (or a pronoun). : The ball rolled off the ground, 3SS THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. § 96. There are a great many verbs in English, each of which can bave a fresh sense given to it by the addition of a little word, the sense of which is moreover seriously modified according to that little Word. Take, for instance, to break. We Can break Out, break forth, break through, break Open, break in, break up. break loose, break off, - How in parsing are we to regard these little words, which give us eight modifications of the original meaning of the verb P Are they adverbs or preposi- tions? The true rule seems to be this: ask what part, the word plays in the sentence; if no moun follows, it belongs essentially to the verb, and is an adverb, as The sun broke forth ; The borse will break loose. If, however, a noun is joined to the verb, the connecting word is a preposition, and is said to govern the noum as an object: I break open a box; She broke off the marriage, They broke up the party. In such cases as He laughed at me, I despair of it, the preposition helps to complete the sense of the verb. § 97. Many of our prepositions are (as we see) short, simple words,-to, at, by, with, on, for, of in, off, out, up ; others which seem now simple enough, are in reality compounds of older words,--from, but, forth, through, after, over, under, about ; of others, such as in-side, out- side, orith-in, with- out, be-hind, un-to, 'in-to, a-mong, &e- side, a-gain, it is evident that they are compounds. The adverbial phrases referred to in § 92 all begin or end with a simple prepo- sition ; they some- times also have the force of preposi- tions, each express- ing the idea of a relation between two other words. It is not difficult to see how some of these compounds have arisen from contracted phrases; by the side of easily would become be-side, and so on. - It is, perhaps, almost needless to say that the pro- position cannot be movable in the sontence, as the adverb is ; it must remain hear the moun (or pronoun) to which it belongs. XI. ACIDS AND SALTS (continued). NITRIC acid, possessing as it does as much as 76 per cent. of oxygen, with some of which it readily parts, on account of the feeble affinity of nitrogen for oxygen, acts as a powerful oxi- dising agent. This is what renders it valuable APPARATUS FOR LOWERING TEMPERATURE IN USING - LIQUEFIED AMMONIA. to the jeweller as a means of testing the purity of gold: as it oxidises all the metals -., , , that are mixed with, or as it is . acid º: termed, used to alloy gold, it fol.” “* lows that the greater the amount of discoloration the larger the proportion of alloy - in the compound. Small articles 4º * 1 ºro-- g employed by of silver, such as a thimble or a ji. coin, however tarnished or dis- coloured, can instantly be cleaned by being immersed in dilute nitric acid. The oxide formed on the surface can easily be wiped off, leaving the surface of the silver exposed. Several of the more readily oxidizable among the non-metallic substances are affected in a similar manner to the metals. If concentrated nitric acid be poured on powdered charcoal in a glass jar, red vapours are given off indicating the decomposition of the nitric acid and the disengagement of a lower oxide of nitrogen. The liberated oxygen unites with the charcoal to form carbonic acid, and so intense is the chemical action that actual combustion is the result and the char- coal becomes in- candescent. Simi- lar effects are pro- duced when phos- phorus and Sulphur are acted on by nitric acid. In the case of the former, on account of its strong affinity for Oxygen, the Com- bustion may be so violent as to be at- tended with danger; in the case of the Sulphur the result is far less marked if, indeed, it is at all attacked. Organic substances also,such as wool and feathers, wood, and other vegetal products, are oxidized by treating with nitric acid. It will be perceived, therefore, that a species of combustion is thus effected through the agency of a liquid. Cotton un- dergoes a very remarkable change if subject to the action of the strongest nitric acid. It becomes explosive, and is the substance- known as gun-cotton. This tendency to part with a portion of its oxygen renders mitric acid a very powerful bleaching agent. The free oxygen converts vegetal colours into com- pounds insoluble in water, and this of course destroys their colouring power. When brought into contact with any substance to which it thus imparts a portion of its oxygen, nitric acid is resolved into one of the lower com- pounds of nitrogen and oxygen. When dilute nitric acid is poured, let us say on granulated Copper or tin, dense red fumes of nitrous acid are given off. º Nitric acid, of the very highest strength always contains upwards of two ounces of Gun-cotton, CELEMISTRY. 389 water to every pound of acid. We have already explained that the hydrated acid consists of an oxidised substance combined with the elements of water; accordingly we find that if the water be withdrawn the compound ceases to exist as mitric acid, and is resolved into O and a lower oxide of N. This necessary ingredient in the constitution of a hydrated acid has been termed the water of constitution, and stands therefore in a certain sense in the same relation to it that the water of crystallization does to the crystal. Neither the liquid acid nor the solid crystal can exist without water. Nitric acid forms with different metals a very important series of compounds, known as the nitrates or nitrogen salts, to which we shall advert under the head of the metals. The most important is undoubtedly nitre or salt- petre, the principal constituent of gunpowder. An analogous Salt is formed when sodium takes thc The water of constitution, The nitrogen Salts, l'? again draw attem- }}||||}||||||}|{4}|{}}|ºlliſilliſh: iºlºš smell of burnt hair or feathers is due to the evolution of ammonia. Indeed, this gas was formerly prepared almost entirely from animal re- fuse, such as hair, clippings of hoof, horn or hide ; these were heated, and ammonia was given off. Hence the origin of the term spirits of hartshorn, by which this gas was formerly known. The name ammonia was derived from the fact that one of its compounds, Sal ammo- niac, was formerly prepared by - the Arabs in the deserts of Libya, near the temple of Jupiter Ammon, from the excreta of camels. Ammonia and its compounds are now generally obtained by distillation from the refuse liquors of gas-works. Ammonia gas is best prepared, in small quantities, by treating one part by weight of sal ammoniac or ammo- mium hydrochlorate and two parts by weight of quicklime in a flask. The gas which is hereby evolved is passed, by means of a tube, through Decomposition of organic struc- tures, Sources of ammonia, |ft|{{ſl}|ſ|| §l, lºſº; tº: render the gas com- place of the potas- #ſº iº ºrm. * an upright cylinder sium, and is known § | jišš|{#ſºlºiſ; § #|####|ſºlº...! filled sº it h dry ; : | ||||||||||| & º e */ as Chili saltpetre. d t | º | quicklime in lumps Before taking leave &P |U|||||| | | —the object of of this important || | wº, "º acid we would {{|| |||| and º %' ºil | 3. sº º tion to the fact, as exemplified in this one case, of the wonderful changes which the elements undergo on enter- ing into chemical combination. This powerful and cor- rosive acid consists f º | :::::::::: §: - | liš. pletely dry. The gas, after passing another finally } { | all moisture | | º t l, #| through #| tube, is : collected in the manner we have already explaimed -- wº- for other gases. ======= >====< below the surface of mercury. Water 1. of exactly the same ####|ill cannot here be em- elements as the air lºſſ ilºššiliš' ployed, owing to |########| || - |lj|| #| || || §§|| we breathe every #|| iſſºlºſſ the very great solu- moment of Qurlives iſſ iſſ bility of this gas | —namely, nitrogen, Oxygen, and water vapour. In this case, however, they are gaseous, and uncom- bined, in the former they are chemically com- bined and in a liquid form. Ammonia. We now pass on to consider another very inter- esting and important compound of nitrogen,_ one which it forms with hydrogen, and which is known as ammonia. This manifests itself in the form of a colourless gas lighter than air, Nature of and having a very pungent odour. ammonia Although nitrogen and hydrogen do not readily combine in nature, still they do so under certain circumstances; as, for instance, when water is evaporated, the nitrogen of the air unites with the elements of water, forming small quantities of an am- moniacal salt known as ammonium nitrite—a compound of ammonia and nitrous acid. This gas is given off wherever the decomposition of animal or vegetal substances is in progress— especially the former. The well-known pungent - ſºiſ; |#| ||||||||||||||||||||\|||||||| GENERATION OF AMMONIACAL, GAS. inwater, that liquid being capable of - holding in solution upwards of a thousand times its own volume of ammonia. The nature of the decomposition effected by the above apparatus is the fol- lowing : - quicklime and sal ammoniac are Converted into calcium chloride, ammonia and water. What is commonly sold by the che- mists as ammonia is a solution of this gas in water. It is powerfully alkaline, neutralizing acids and turning red vegetal colours blue. The gas itself is, however, susceptible of being liquefied at —40° under the ordi- * * * * mary atmospheric pressure, and ** O * ~ *- and solid, at 10° under the pressure of six or seven atmospheres; and, if the temperature of the liquid be sufficiently lowered, may be frozen into a transparent solid. The wonderful solubility of ammoniacal gas in Water has been turned to account in the production of cold by the conversion of this compound from the condition of a liquid to that of a gas, in accordance with the law that heat becomes latent, and the temperature is 390 THE UNIVERSAI, INSTRUCTOR. therefore lowered, whenever a body passes - from the condition of a solid to . Productiºn ºf that of a liquid or from the latter **Y* condition to that of a gas. This effect is accomplished by means of an apparatus known as Carré's freezing machine, which con- sists of a cylindrical vessel of wrought iron containing a saturated Solution of ammonia at 0°. This communicates by means of a vertical tube and a double curved pipe with another vessel perfectly air-tight, which we will term the receiver. The solution is first of all heated in the retort. The natural effect y of the increase of temperature Carre ...ins is to drive the ammonia out IIl of the water into the receiver in the form of a gas, which if free to expand would occupy a balloon equal to 200 times the contents of the receiver. The tremendous pressure, therefore, to which it is subjected, assisted by the cold of the surrounding water —as, in order to aid in producing the desired effect, the receiver is immersed in an outer vessel containing water—is sufficient to produce the liquefaction of the ammonia. As soon as a sufficient quantity has been thus condensed, the fire is taken from under the retort, and it is cooled by a jet of cold water. The condi- tions are now completely reversed, and the liquid ammonia reverting to the condition of a gas, rushes back into the retort to reunite with the water. . The result of this rapid con- version of a liquid into its gas is to pro- duce a very great diminution of temperature, the effect of which is to convert into ice the water contained in any vessel that may be introduced into the receiver. The composition of ammonia may be ascer- tained by causing it to pass through a red-hot iron tube, or by electrolytical decomposition, when it will be found to consist of hydrogen and nitrogen combined, in the proportion of three volumes of the former to one of the latter; and when thus decomposed, its constituent gases will be found to occupy twice the space they did when combined in the form of ammonia. The composition of this gas is therefore expressed by the formula NH3. We have already shown that ammonia is powerfully alkaline in its reaction; indeed, with the oxides of sodium and potassium, Soda and Constitution of ammonia, r: ºli, most powerful alkalies known. This fact is in itself sufficiently remarkable, but we think we shall be able to prove that this important compound exhibits other attributes, which to the thoughful chemist are in the highest degree interesting and suggestive. We have already spoken of the ammoniacal Salts, which form indeed a very important The sal series. Now, bearing in mind * *.* the definition we have given of OX113, - - e an oxygen salt, that it consists of an acid united to a metallic base—or to take the simpler hypothetical formula that every One of this class of salts may be regarded as an acid in which the hydrogen is replaced by a metal (either entirely or otherwise, but as potash, it forms one of the three. this is a matter in no way affecting our present illustration, it may be dismissed for the moment)—the reader may well ask, What am I to understand by an ammoniacal salt In itself a powerful alkali, it is impossible that it can unite with oxygen to form an acid; on the other hand, it is not a metal, and cannot form a base. What, therefore, is an ammoniacal Saltº The answer to this question is that ammonia, although a compound of nitrogen and hydrogen, behaves like the oxide of a metal, and forms with different acids a Series of salts which present the singular anomaly of being destitute of a true metallic base. Regarding every salt as an acid in which one or more atoms of H have been replaced by a metal, the chemist is compelled, in the case of the Salts of ammonia, to substitute for the metal the hypothetical compound NH, which contains, as will be seen, one ... atom more of H than does Composition of ammonia. This is the substance * * which, behaving like a metal, e forms the base of the ammoniacal salts, and to which the term ammonium is applied, identi- fying it with the metals, which, like sodium, potassium, etc., mostly end in the syllable um. Although its existence in the salts of ammonia. has long been recognised hypothetically, this remarkable compound has never been isolated. We are thus presented with the remarkable fact of a compound body, NH3, behaving like an element ; and the singular consideration forces itself upon our attention, Are the bodies we call metals in reality elementary or not ? is it possible that further chemical researck may show that they also are, in point of fact, like ammonium, compounds? §§§E § ׺ t % ޺ §§: sº wº Fºss. KEY TO EXERCISES_I. EXERCISE. I. (page 47.) 1. Paul is Louisa's brother, and Louisa is Paul's sister. 2. The father and (the) grand- father are the ascendants; the son and (the) grandson are the descendants. 3. Art thou Paul's (lady) cousin! 4. No, I am Louisa's sister. 5. Paul's step-brother and step-sister are Louisa's cousins. 6. The first male cousin and the first female cousin of papa are the uncle and aunt of Louisa. 7. If you are my mother's brother you are my uncle. 8. My father's son-in-law is my brother-in-law, and my father's daughter-in-law is my sister-in-law. 9. Are you mamma's (female) relative. 10. The husband and (the) wife are the spouses, the father and (the) mother are the parents, the son and (the) daughter are the children. 11. Are my father and mother relatives of Paul or of Louisa? 12. The wife's aunt is my relative. 13. Are the grandfather and grandmother the H'REWC'H Gº RAMMAR. 391 grandparents ? 14. Yes, and the grandson and granddaughter are the grandchildren. 15. Is Louisa (a) relative of Paul's ? 16. Yes, she is Paul's first cousin or niece. 17. Papa's nephew is my cousin. 18. The betrothed are papa's and mamma's cousins. 19. Is my father's stepmother my grandmother ? 20. Are you the uncle and (the) aunt ? No, we are the father and mother-in-law. EXERCISE II. (page 47.) 1. La mère de la femme est la sœur de Paul. 2. Es-tu le frère de Louise ? 3. Je suis le mari de la fille ; je suis le gendre (or beau-fils). 4. S'il est le fils de mon oncle, il est mOn cousin germain. 5. Si elle est la fille de ma tante, elle est ma cousine germaine. 6. Paul est-il le cousin de maman ? 7. Ma sœur est la tante de mon fils ; mon frère est l'oncle de mon fils. 8. Nous sommes les parents, et vous êtes les enfants. 9. Le neveu et la nièce de mon père et de ma mère sont les enfants de mon oncle et de ma tante. 10. La fille de mon beau-père est-elle ma belle-sœur ? 11. Est-elle ma parente ? 12. Les fiancés sont cousins. 13. Si vous êtes la mère de maman, vous êtes ma grand'mère. 14. Papa, Paul est-il mon cousin germain, oui ou non ? 15. Est-il le mari de Louise ? 16. Ils sont parents de la femme. (Note : Ce sont les parents de la femme = they are the mvife's parents.) 17. Les fiancés sont mon neveu et ma nièce. 18. Les ancêtres (or les aïeux) sont-ils les ascendants ? 19. Le neveu de mon grand-père est le cousin germain de papa. 20. Est-il aussi mon cousin ? ^ $ EXERCISE III. (page 48.) I. Time is the stuff of which our life is made. 2. Wisdom is found in judgment and not in years. 3. Education corrects ignorance. 4. Justice is the queen of all virtues. 5. The wise (man) prefers virtue to beauty. 6. The vine bears three kinds of fruits : intoxication, voluptuousness, and repentance. 7. The recol- lection of youth is tender in old men. 8. Pewter at that time was shining upon the tables and dressers, as iron and brass on the hearths ; silver and gold were in the coffers. 9. If thou wishest to gain health, keep off care. 10.Advice, So necessary for" business, is sometimes, in society, hurtful to him who gives it. I. Le génie de la langue française est la clarté et l'élégance. 2. Ecrivez les injures sur le sable et les bienfaits sur le marbre. 3. Le monde récompense plus souvent l'apparence de la vertu que la vertu même. 4. L'art est long et la vie est courte. 5. L'ennui est la maladie des hommes inoccupés. 6. La jeunesse se nourrit d'illusions, la vieillesse de souvenirs. 7. Les jeunes gens, à cause des passions qui les amusent, s'accommodent mieux de la solitude que les vieillards. 8. Ni l'or ni la grandeur ne nous rendent heureux. 9. L'habitant des montagnes hait les plaines. 10. Michel-Ange cultiva tous les arts : la peinture, la sculpture, l'architecture, la gravure, et la poésie. EXERCISE IV. (page 75). 1. Where is the (man) cook ? He is at the market or at the tavern. 2. And the cook ? She is in the kitchen, or at the house of the bar-keeper's sister. 3. Has the distiller any wine and alcohol ? 4. At the grocer's one has confections, preserves, preserved provisions and spices. 5. The butcher and butcher's wife are in the brewery.* 6. The parents Of the roast-meat vendor's wife f are pork-butchers. 7. The boulangère is the wife and the boulangerie is the shop of the baker. 8. Has John, the liquorice-drink vendor, any wafers, confections, and chocolate ? 9. A brewer's godmother has (keeps) the eating- house. 10. Have I any oysters, and has Paul any herrings ? 11. Have you pastry from my baker's or from my pastrycook's ? 12. At the · coffee-house one has refreshments-coffee, beer, lemonade, and wine. 13. Has the oyster- woman a shop or a warehouse ? She is at the (covered) market, the heTring-woman also. 14. Have Jane and Louisa milk and bread, or chocolate and pastry ? 15. My nurse's brother- in-law has a dairy ; heis a dairyman. 16. Has the fruiterer also a shop at the market ? 17. The bar-keeper's wife has a first cousin ; he is a sugar-baker or pastrycook. 18. Are the miller and miller's wife at the mill ? No, they are at the biscuit-manufacturers house. 19. We have *a brother-in-law ; he is a corn-merchant, and my godfather is a chocolate manufacturer. 20. Has any one roast fowls ? Yes ; the roast- meat vendor and the eating-house keeper ; they have also roast meats. EXERCISE V. (page 102.) l. Le distillateur a-t-il du vin ou de la bière ? Il a de l'alcool. 2. Le frère de mon boulanger est boucher. 3. La bouchère est la marraine du fils du confiseur. 4. Les parents ont des enfants, et les grands-parents ont des petits- enfants. 5. Nous avons des huîtres de l'écaillère et du poisson de la harengère. 6. Avez-vous du café à la cuisine ? 7. Quelqu'un a mon pain et mon lait. 8. Quelques-uns ont du chocolat et de la pâtisserie, et quelques-uns ont des fruits et des légumes. 9. Jean, tu as une boutique ; tu es fruitier. 10. Jeanne est à la halle ou chez ma tante. ll. Les épiciers ont-ils (or est-ce que les épiciers ont) du chocolat et des confitures ? 12. Où sont le meunier et la meunière ? (or où le meunier et la meunière sont-ils ? or où est-ce que le meunier et la meunière sont #-NEVER le meunier et la meunière où sont-ils ?) 13. Ils sont au cabaret ou au café. 14. Chez un marchand de vins on a du vin, de l'alcool, et aussi de la bière. 15. Le père nourricier de mon cousin est à la brasserie. 16. Le fils d'un liquoriste (or limonadier) épouse la fille du charcutier. 17. Où sommes- nous ? Nous sommes chez un de mes oncles. 18. Une de mes tantes a les légumes. 19. As-tu les fruits de papa ? (or de mon papa ?) Oui, j'ai les fruits. 20. Ma mère est la fille d'un marchand de blé (or d'un négociant en grains), et mon frère est le fils d'un fabricant de chocolat (or d'un chocolatier). * Observe that brasserie means both the place where beer is made, and where it is sold. + We would, once for all, apologise for certain clumsy English constructions, which we have adopted for the sake of rendering the French idea completely. THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTR UCTOR. THE LEAVES (concluded).—ELEMENTS OF THE FLOWER. FLAT and leafy organs, and true leaves in particular, present characters of point or apex, and others in regard to the base, which at times it becomes very useful to refer to. Here again there is inconceivable variety, the point or apex ranging from “acute ’’ to “broadly obtuse”; and sometimes disappearing alto- gether, as in the leaves of the Rhus Coriania. The base, after the same manner, ranges from a form like that of the letter V to the “deeply cordate,” and although fairly constant in individuals and in species, must never be thought commensurate in value, as a distinguishing feature, with the venation. - Leaves, in a word, are Sub- ject to incredible mutations, is & alike of form, Mutability of colour, and leaves, measurement. The soil, the place of growth, shady or sunshiny, and the season of the year, all exert more or less influence. The practised eye gets accustomed to these vagaries, and after a while, as in intercourse with mankind, is surprised no longer, being prepared for the inconceivable. The physiological functions of the leaves of plants are obviously nutri- tive. Provided, as the cuticle is, minute Extremities and bases of leaves, Functions of leaves, with innumerable openings, the “stomata” above º mentioned (fig. 28), there is unquestionably a direct com- munication between the in- terior tissues of the leaf and the surrounding atmosphere. How this takes place, the processes, and the precise results, it is not possible yet to say positively, though many men have been adventurous enough to tell us all about it. Prolonged and very careful experiments have still to be made. Every one may observe for himself, meanwhile, that healthy and abundant foliage is supremely advantageous to a plant, and a sign of vigour; and that when the foliage is poor the plant cannot prosper. The rain, the dew, the Sun- shine, the chemical factors of the atmosphere, all act upon plants through the medium, pre- eminently, of the leaves. Weiled from the light of the Sun, dried up through want of moisture, or Overlaid with dirt, their functions are impeded, Or wholly arrested ; and the probabilities are FIG. 61.-NARCISSUS. that the plant will die. On these well-known facts are based all those common-sense pro- cedures in connection with floriculture which include the keeping of leaves as clean as possible ; and never cutting off more than may require removal because of their superabun- dance. When bulbous plants, such as hya- cinths and crocuses, have finished blooming, the leaves are allowed to go on growing (by all except the ignorant) as long and as freely as they like, since their summer life restores and renews the strength of the bulb. To cut off the leaves while green and energetic, as the thought- less sometimes do, is simply to ruin the plant. Just as collections should be made of sections of the stems of trees, so every One who is in earnest with regard to botany should prepare a set of dried g leaves. º or two examples of nºn- every different shape should “” be collected, the specimens being laid between folds of paper, or placed in an old book, and then heavily pressed for a few days, so as to be thoroughly desiccated and rendered perfectly flat. Many kinds are apt to wrinkle un- less the pressure while they are drying be very consider- able; therefore give plenty. Neatly cemented, when quite dry, to clean white paper, and arranged in proper sequence, a collection of leaves is in- valuable as an aid to memory, and becomes with every new specimen more and more in- teresting and useful, as well as beautiful. ELEMENTS OF THE FLOWER. The popular conception of a flower is founded upon the rich colourandexquisite shape of such a one as the rose or the lily, and is extended to such as the mignonette and the heliotrope because of their delightful odour, Beyond this it 'seldom goes, and the limit is the same in the lan- guage of poetry and metaphor. The tiny blossoms of scores, nay, of hundreds, even of the plants most precious to man—those, for example, of many of the most excellent culinary vegetables, and of all the large forest and timber trees indigenous to our island—if noticed or thought of at all, are regarded as undeserving of the appellation. This is incon- sistent, to say the least, since there are few flowers of smaller individual size than those of mignonette itself. The organization of the very smallest is usually quite as elaborate as that of the largest. The ordinary application of the term comes of the most superficial idea possible of what a flower really is. In setting forth her perfections, one of which is the flower of a plant, Nature never considers dimen- sions,—that which men call “Nature " being understood as the medium through which the B O TA NY. 393 Divine Love and Wisdom makes itself known to our understanding. Never was there con- structed a more accurately beautiful phrase, in allusion to the works of God, than “In minimis maazimé miranda,”—“Most to be ad- mired in the smallest things.” . In Botany a “flower” is not bound to possess bright colour, or sweet scent, or to be of dimensions greater than the unassisted eye can just command. If it contains the apparatus required for the genera- tion of seed, that will suffice. There are examples of flowers which consist of nothing more than the apparatus in question ; and of flowers possess- ing only the very slightest supple- ment to it the number is ex- ceedingly large. A ready instance of the former occurs in the common ash- tree ; and it is but the least con- ceivable advance upon the ex- treme simplicity we there dis- cover, which lifts to a higher posi- tion the flowers of the oak, the birch,the poplar, the willow, the elm, the walnut. An accurate cen- sus of the entire flora of our pla- net would show, probably, that large and bril- liant flowers are by no means the rule, but the ex- ception. Throw. ing in even the little fragrant ones, “flowers ” popularly so cal led would still be by far the minority. People are apt to ima- gine the con- trary because of the beauty of the select few that have been brought from foreign countries for cultivation in gardens and con- servatories. They do not know that for every one or two of the showy kind there are nine or ten unpretentious. Out of the 1,500 that grow wild in our own island it would certainly be difficult to choose a larger per-centage of such as florists admire : and abroad there are as many “weeds” as in England. So deeply embedded in the popular mind is the idea that a flower must needs be showy, that when an exceptionally beautiful species occurs in a genus not remarkable for charms, it FIG. 62.-BRANCH AND FLOWER. straightway receives the epithet of “flowering.” The shrubs which yield currants fit for eating produce flowers quite as truly as the grand Fibes sanguineum ; but the bloom is green and insignificant, and thus, in defiance of the good old canon that “handsome is that handsome does,” the latter alone in gardens is the “flower- ing currant.” The mistaken idea in question is one of the very first that the young botanist must dismiss from his mind. A flower, when “complete,” consists of four distinct portions, two of which are non-essen- tial, while the other two are indispensable. - The non-essen- tial are the “calyx” and the “corolla,” often called the “floral envelopes,” and sometimes the “ peria nt h,” which word sig- nifies “round about ’’ or “en- circling the flower,” thus ex- actly describing their place, and a c knowledg- ing that the flower, pure and simple, is with- in. The corolla, is usually the showy and gaily- tinted part of the blossom, and is prone to wither and drop. The calyx, exte- rior to it, is more enduring,though this also usually goes before long. Then come the in dispensable parts—the “sta- mens,” which poss ess the power of fer- tilizing; and in the centre of all the “pistil,” which is the ru- dimentary seed- pod, with certain - adjuncts, collec- tively constituting the female part of the flower. and in structure very curious and beautiful. The stamens vary in number very considerably —not in the same species of plant, but in plants taken in the aggregate. There are examples also of more than one pistil ; though when more than one occurs, singular to say, the mumber is usually legion. The constituent pieces of the calyx are called the “sepals.” Usually there are three, four, or five of these pieces; and though often unconnected, in most flowers The calyx. they are more or less united from the base up- 394 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. wards, so as to constitute a kind of vase. The number of points, divisions, or “lobes” of a vase-like calyx, indicates exactly the number of pieces that have been conjoined. When in no degree united by their edges, the sepals are said to be “free.” The poppy supplies an excellent example of two “free” sepals, the wallflower of four, and the primrose an equally good one of the cohesion of five sepals into a cup having as many longitud in a 1 angles. Usually the calyxisgreen. Usually, also, it is so Small, in com- parison with the corolla, as to be entirely oversha- § dowed. But it is fº often developed §§ to a degree of as- §§ % egree Aº tonishing size and splendour; some- times it mot only rivals the corolla, but entirely eclipses it. All, therefore, that can be safely said of the calyx in the way of a descriptive definition, is that it is the outermost part of the beautifulfourfoldfabric we have before us. Remarkable illustrations of great accession of size and beauty are found in the common Christmas-rose (Helleborus miger), and in the globe-flowers, one of which, the Trollius Europaeus, is a native of Britain. The large white cup of the Christmas-rose, and the yellow ball of the Trollius, consist purely of sepals; there are petals, it is true, but they are so minute as to be completely hidden. In the hellebore they are found without difficulty, being emerald-green ; in the globe-flower they are yellow, like the stamens. Similar incre- ment of beauty as to colour, though not so much of relative size, occurs in the calyx of the Fuchsia, which in the primitive state is crimson; and the same may be said of various species of Staticé and Clerodendron. In the Clerodendron Balfowrianum, we have the rare spectacle of a mºhite calyx to a well-developed and bright-hued corolla. The Staticós supply the spectacle, quite as rare, of a blue calyx to white petals. Trifling as they may seem, these matters have their weight and significance; and no one who cares for the Divine art as shown in nature, as distinguished from its scientific manipulation by mankind, can afford to disdain or overlook them. In certain curious varieties of the polyanthus, in the berbery, and many other plants, the calyx assumes the identical figure and colour of the corolla, and we seem at first sight to have two corollas. A calyx of this character is said to be “petaloid.” Although exceptional in exogenous flower- ing-plants, in Endogens of the liliaceous type the petaloid condition of the calyx just spoken of becomes almost constant. or three of the liliaceous plants—the spider- wort, for example—do we find a calyx of the FIG. 63.--TETRAPOMA. *===== ‘ ‘rºº sºs;Sºnºrsº ºr rººssºszºº tºº...sº º 3. & º & §º º § º º ißS&N º A& § sºŞº ſº % §6&7° & * { 3. : º º sº & * º º º Rºđ § THE FRIENDLY CO LL0R,i}; º º º º, tº - #) §§ § $º, wº §§§ º §ºsº, ; sº f º º - - º ºg º gº º * - º º º 2xfººp-ºº: º ; e º f ſº º e.t. - º w YTºº :3 & &\ſº tº º º §§§SR 3/23. SAJº º &: º - s --- º º - ~ º- º: ----- º Only in two | old-accustomed fashion. The lilies emphati- cally so called, the tulip, the hyacinth, the bluebell, the narcissus, the Irids, the Amaryl- lids, the Orchids, and their congeners, have both portions of the perianth alike, or very nearly so. The substance is the same; the colour is usually so; the Only distinction, as to material and painting, is that one portion or the other is sometimes jewelled or embroidered. How beautiful the green spots on the petals of the snowdrop, the sepals never assuming to be other than pure white l The early botanists called the liliaceous flowers “naked,” consider- ing them to be destitute of calyx. So far from being destitute, they not only possess a calyx, but, as we see, in supremely beautiful condition. No step in regard to the true apprehension of flower-structure was ever more happy than that one which literally “clothed the lilies” by demonstrating this now familiar fact. Whatever its colour and texture, however aberrant from its ſº condition, the calyx is infallibly distinguished º, parts forming a distinct Rulºnd the whorl, the sepals exactly alter- nating with the petals. . If, as sometimes happens (as in the lily-of-the-valley), all six pieces are so intimately conjoined as to produce a bell, then the little lobes of the margin are three and three. It was the discovery of the capital principle of “alternation " which in- stantly rectified the error of the early observers. Light was shed, at the same moment, on Several other important matters, as will be noticed by-and-by. Employing the term “naked” in the sense in which it was of old applied to the lilies, it can hardly be said that Such a thing as a naked flower exists. Nature every- where prescribes clothing as an integral part of the idea of civilization and perfection. The only instance within reach of a corolla not guarded by a calyx, occurs in the common purple rhododendron. But in compensation every individual flower is protected, while young, by a great “bract,” the early dropping of which is no more, in its way, than the shed- ding of the sepals by the poppy and the Dicentra. The nearly “naked” corollas of the plants. which constitute the orders Umbelliferae and Dipsacaceae of course do not fall under the present consideration, the greater portion of the calyx being here adherent to the ovary. Neither do the florets of the Compositae—partly for the same reason, partly because of the involucrum, which serves as a common calyx to the whole assemblage. { §º & Ra - III. II. THE MORAL CONDITIONS OF SUCCESS (continued). INTEGRITY stands at the head of mercantile virtues, and is probably the best of all, because THE FRIEWDLY CO UAVSELX, OR. 395 it comprehends nearly all. It means the whole moral man—a wholeness of honesty, truthful- ness, fidelity to contracts and understandings, clemency to others in uprightness to one's own obligations, moderation in profit, courage in loss, friendly and manly parts always revealed at the hardest corners, with uniform hostility to fraud in all its forms, whether of deep deceit or superficial pretence. If this be not enough for the merchant, it would seem only necessary, as minor satellites of integrity, to add punctuality, diligence, and such periodical balances and solutions as to know whether to move forward or to stand still, and to leave to integrity in all cases a fully-determined course of action, or honourable liquidation, if that should be the less happy end. Thé integrity of a merchant in its professional aspect, as to be understood, is that of a man conscious of having a function of public utility to discharge with a profit to himself in proportion to the intelligence with which he discharges this function. If he is a buyer, he will have to be ruled by the conditions of the market in which he buys. He is not morally responsible for the circumstances of the market, or for conditions which may have depressed it, and rendered it advantageous for him to buy in. His appearance as a buyer will only, indeed, have relieved the depression of the market, and tended to improve, however little, all the circumstances and conditions by which it has been depressed, and by which the producers contributing to its supply have been unable to obtain a due return for their produce. Whatever priority of time or superior intelli- gence he has discovered in his purchases is fairly due to his account of profit. But when this has been done, he must have his market to sell in ; and though he is no more responsible for the circumstances which may have rendered it a good market to sell in than in the other case, yet he must take or decline it, as it pre- sents itself when he is ready to sell. The whole circle of mercantile profit is thus described in supplying want of produce at one time or place from superfluity at a previous time or place—in short, doing a public good at both ends of the transaction ; and it is obvious that if a merchant does not keep this function of public utility steadily in view, it is very unlikely that he will either be successful or have any moral ideas on the subject. If a bad or ill-judged purchase should lead on to fraudulent efforts of sale, there is no end of the confusion and loss to the operator, and of mischief all round, in proportion as such prac- tice extends. It will be observed, from what has been said, how much the integrity of the merchant may depend after all on his intelligence. Most people enter on business with an honourable intention, but the intention is little here in comparison to the intelligence with which it is guided. The first thing is to comprehend fully the public function of merchandise, and the Second to understand the means by which this function, in its essentiality, is to be served with . success to oneself, and with honour at least, if not with success in the full nineteenth-century sense of the word. The professional life of a merchant must be spent in a cool and steady observance and study of the course of markets, and of the causes, temporary or permanent, affecting supply and demand near or distant within the sphere in which his business is conducted. He must have less or more of the prophet in proportion as his operations are extended over time and space, but his prophecy must be based on solid information. This is equally needful whether he is acting on his own account OT as agent or consignee in the interest of others; and in either capacity he is equally wrong if he commits himself so deeply in any series of transactions as to infringe his freedom of judgment or any effect of the like kind in the action of others. Liberty to do or not do is the mainspring of a merchant. If he allows himself to be dragged into new series of transactions, to which there is no induce- ment but that of keeping himself afloat like a feather on the stream, he is lost. There are eminent mercantile houses which have so great a hold over some branches of trade, that it is difficult for younger firms to work round them, or to make any inroad into their large commerce. But the great firms die at last of the same disease which is fatal to so many others. They become so identified and dovetailed with certain interests, that they cannot extricate themselves: as these decay, they decay also ; and some fine morning they may be found to have no more life in them. So that the experience of the largest, and in their day most successful, firms only enforces the lesson so necessary to be learned by those who have to begin with limited capital, with few connexions, and to make, in short, a busi- ness for themselves. Integrity and other good qualities may be of no avail without the self- restraint which saves these from being stifled, which keeps transactions and the credit rela- tions in which they are involved within range, and preserves that freedom and independence of sound judgment which are indispensable in mercantile affairs. The merchant is even more happily situated in this respect than the manufacturer or the owner of large industrial works. In the case of the latter there is often so heavy an investment of capital in buildings, machinery, and other fixed forms, as well as a necessity of keeping trained labour in hand, that there is not only a stronger pretext for leaning on borrowed capital, but a certain degree of policy in con- tinuing operations when for the time being they are less than profitable. The business of a merchant is free from entanglements of this kind. He is always able, if such be his maxim, to rein his steed—to walk, trot, or gallop, just as may suit its health and capacity, and his own safety and profit. He need not take the aid of banks, or of the credit of other firms, beyond the ordinary and legitimate bills of exchange. He need not cover with acceptances broduce for which he has no favourable market. Indeed, it may be said, without exaggeration, that with strict integrity there need scarcely be Such a thing as mercantile failure ; and that the more general the observance of such in- 396 THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTRUCTOR. tegrity became, the more easy would its Ob- servance be, and the greater the success of all engaged in mercantile life. When there is great difference of moral principle among merchants, it may be averred with certainty that those who act with most habitual integrity will have the longest lease and the most prosperous end. $ - XII. TIGLATH-PILESER II.—THE SECOND ASSYRIAN EMPIRE. OF the personal history of this great monarch, before he was acknowledged king of Assyria (745 B.C.), we know nothing. That he was a man of great energy is apparent ; that he was a popular leader may be taken as certain. Men do not rise to supremacy in times of national convulsion unless they possess the ability and will to control weaker natures, and subdue the opposition of rivals. He found the empire weakened and dis- Organized, and neighbouring Ba- bylonia the scene of contentions between petty chiefs, and a source of disquiet and danger to Assyria. An expedition into the disordered country was one of the first tasks of the new king. At the head of a large and well-organized army he marched through the regions east of the Tigris, then crossing the river, captured many towns and villages (among them the important cities Dur-Kuri- galzu and Sippara), and reduced to subjection most of the Chaldean and Aramean tribes between the Tigris and Euphrates. Farther south some of the Chaldeans evaded submis- sion, and claimed to be kings of Babylonia, and as such appear in Ptolemy's list of monarchs. The northern part of Babylonia was conquered and annexed to Assyria ; and Tiglath-Pileser built a palace, around which a town soon sprung up, named Kar-Assur, the “fort of Assur,” on a mound near the Zab river. To the east of Assyria was an extensive district known as the land of Zimri, thickly peopled, and containing many towns. Al- though nominally subject to the Assyrian empire, it had never been entirely subdued, and the inhabitants were a continual source of trouble to the Assyrian kings. Various mili- tary expeditions had been undertaken, with the usual accompaniments of slaughter and pillage; but still Zimri was un- conquered, lawless and turbulent. Having dealt so heavy a blow to Babylon, Tiglath-Pileser, whose success had established his power in Assyria, turned his attention to Zimri. Town after town fell before the vigorous assaults of his trained and experienced warriors; and then, having subdued the country, he crossed it, and attacked and Expedition into Babylonia, Conquest of Zimri, conquered the Persian tribes beyond the eastern frontier. Media, rich in mineral wealth, was now open to the indomitable conqueror. Some of the chiefs submitted, and saved their lives by paying tribute ; others fled ; and some of sterner mould, who resolutely opposed the invader, paid for their patriotism with their lives. We can but faintly realize the incidents of the terrible campaign. Modern conquerors are content to carry away the wealth of the countries they invade, and establish political supremacy over the subdued peoples; but the warrior kings of the old times, like the slave- hunters of more modern days, made captives . of the inhabitants of the territories they sub- dued, and took them to replenish the popula- tion of their own dominions. As in after years the Jews were driven from Jerusalem and Samaria, and the other towns of Israel and Judea, to “weep by the river of Babylon,” so the captive Medians by thousands followed the march of the Teturning Assyrian invaders, some to grace the triumph of the victorious king, others—who knows how many, men, women and children?—to perish by the way. More than fifty thousand persons, with horses, oxen, and sheep, were forcibly taken from their homes in the Median plains by Tiglath-Pileser. As yet, he could conquer better than he could organize. He appointed Assyrian governors to the newly acquired regions; but, deprived of the support of the hordes of soldiers, their power was little more than nominal, and the Medians soon reasserted a practical independence. After- . wards, the Assyrian empire under Tiglath- Pileser was remarkable for ensuring the per- manence of its conquests. Viceroys or satraps were appointed, with power to enforce the payment of taxes, and the establishment of military contingents. The extreme eastern districts of Media were simultaneously overrun by one of the king's generals, ASSur-dain-ani, who, following his master's example, carried back rich spoil into Assyria. The sudden successes of Tiglath-Pileser, and the rapid development of the military power of Assyria, alarmed the rulers of several small kingdoms in northern Syria and Armenia. A confederation was formed, under the leader- ship of Sarduri, king of Ararat, which inter- posed a barrier between the empire and Assyria, and Tiglath-Pileser promptly took measures to break up the formidable array. At the head of a large army, he marched into the territory of Kustaspi, or Hystaspes, king of Kummaha, in the region of the . Upper Euphrates, met the combined forces, and totally defeated them. Sarduri, the leader, escaped with difficulty, and, thanks to the speed and endurance of his horse, crossed the river and reached his own dominions. Unless the records preserved are greatly exag- gerated—and perhaps they are, for the exploits of successful warriors are apt to be magnified by contemporary and dependent historians— the number of soldiers brought into the field Spoiling the Medians, Syrian con- federation, AWCIEWT HISTORY. 397 by the confederates under Sarduri must have been enormous, but, either for want of courage or leading, they must have offered but a weak resistance to the Assyrian legions, for we are informed that about seventy-three thousand were made prisoners, and that the horses, stores, and the jewels and state palan- quin of Sarduri fell into the hands of the victors. Having removed this obstacle from his path, Tiglath-Pileser crossed the Euphrates, and led the victorious army into Syria. What he did with the host of prisoners we know not, but probably they were sent into his own do- minions to swell the number of the captives employed in building Assyrian palaces, or as slaves to the wealthy and powerful lords of the empire. No attempt was made to oppose the invasion. Some of those princes who had been members of the confederation made abject Invasion of Syria, eminent scholars, and although exact uni- formity has not been arrived at, there has been a general agreement as to dates, within very moderate limits of variation. The As- syrian historical tablets mention incidents connected with the kingdom of Judah and Israel evidently identical with those related in the Scriptural narratives, but there is a discre- pancy between the dates (as read by the modern decipherers) and those assigned by Biblical critics to the events. Menahem, king of Israel, is stated to have reigned from 772 to 761 B.C.; but the inscriptions appear to give 743 B.C. as the date of the invasion of Syria by Tiglath-Pileser and the payment of tribute by the king of Israel. The variance between the dates of the transaction may not be more than sixteen or Seventeen years ; and considering the difficulties which attend chronological investigations, the various estimates of the length of the year, and other matters, we need IIAMATH, THE MODERN HAMAH. submission ; and other kings hastened to offer tribute and Sue for peace. Among the names of these royal personages preserved is that of Hiram, king of Tyre, probably a descendant and namesake of the powerful and generous monarch, the friend of David and Solomon. Mr. George Smith and the Rev. A. H. Sayce Suppose that among these kings was Menahem, the sixteenth king of Israel, described as king of Samaria. The oldest tablet on which the narrative of this Syrian expedition is described is mutilated ; but the name, under the form of Minihimmu, appears on later copies. We find . . ourselves here confronted with a º question of chronology, which ** we cannot with certainty solve, Biblical chronology, as is well known, has been the subject of careful study by many , tion not hesitate to accept the Assyrian tablet as a remarkable confirmation of the Scriptural statement (2 Kings xv. 19), “The king of Assyria came against the land, and Menahem gave Pul [this appears to have been a generic name for the Assyrian kings] a thousand talents of silver, that his hand might be with him to confirm the kingdom in his hand.” Razanu, or Rezon, king of Damascus—that important Syrian state which from the time of Solomon had maintained an independent posi- paid a heavy tribute; and the rulers of smaller and less powerful states had no choice but to follow the example of the monarchs of Israel and Damascus. The influence of Assyria was now felt from the Euphrates to the Medi- terranean ; but after the return of Tiglath- Pileser to his own dominions, the Syrian kings, 398 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. emboldened by the absence of his army, renounced the submission they had proffered, º and openly asserted their inde- Siege of Arpad. º Arpad, one of the strongest cities of Damascus, was fortified, and an open revolt was proclaimed. The wallike Assyrian king immediately returned to Syria and invaded Arpad; but so well was the city prepared, and so resolute the defenders, that nearly three years elapsed before it was cap- tured. Tiglath-Pileser was once more master of Assyria, but only for a time. A revolt in one of the outlying provinces of Assyria. Occupied the attention of the king, and while he and his hosts were carrying fire and Sword into that region and establishing an Assyrian governor, the Syrian kings seized the opportunity and again revolted, but were soon reduced to sub- mission. About the same time fresh conquests were made in the districts north of Assyria, near the upper waters of the Euphrates. We are told that Tiglath-Pileser defeated a confederacy of Syrian kings, who had received the powerful assistance of Uzziah, or Azariah, king of Judah; but here again we meet with a difficulty in the discrepancies of dates, which, in the absence of confirmation of the event by any allusion to it in the Scriptural narrative, induces us to doubt the correct reading of the inscribed record. The land of Hamath, the fertile valley of the Orontes, was taken pos- session of, and the greater por- tion divided among the Assyrian generals. More than twelve hundred of the inhabitants of Hamath were transported to the districts around the head waters of the Tigris; and many thousands Invasion of Hamath, from surrounding districts were also made. captives. Records of the numbers taken and their destination are preserved; and it is notice- able that men from one place were mixed with women from another, so that their offspring would have confused ideas of nationality and gradually become incorporated with the vast population of Assyria, a commingling of many races. The city Hamath, chief place of the district, is the modern Hamah. In Porter’s “Giant Cities,” Hamah, with its “old, crazy, lazy, creaking, groaning water-wheels,” is spoken of as one of the oldest cities in the world. Once more the Syrian kings were prostrate at the feet of the conqueror, with peace-offerings of gold, silver, and other metals, dyed garments, beautiful and strange beds, oxen, sheep, and camels. A year afterwards (737 B.C. accord- ing to the monuments, probably about 756 B.C. in Scriptural chronology) the Assyrian king made another expedition into Media. Some resistance was unavailingly offered, and Tiglath- Pileser marched on to an old city, Tel-assur, founded ages before by the Assyrians in honour of the god Merodach, and there he offered sacrifices. Tribes were subdued, captives made, and treasures carried away ; and in the full flush of military success he returned to Assyria, not to rest, but to prepare for a new expedition. Sarduri, king of Ararat, who had fled so igno- miniously from the Assyrians seven years before, was again in arms. His capital was Turuspa (on the site of the modern Wan, on the borders of the lake of the same name), and there he took up his position behind strong fortifications. Unable to take the city by assault, the Assyrians ravaged the country around, destroying crops, but the people took refuge in the fortresses and so escaped cap- tivity. LETTERS IN COMBINATION WITH CAPITALS (continued). THE importance of the curve referred to in the close of our last article in connection with capitals will be apparent if the student con- siders how it enters more or less into the con- struction of many of them, half the alphabet being included. This curve forms the ground- work of the S, with a hair-stroke at the com- mencement. The addition of a waved stroke to the right produces L. . The Z is built upon the same basis, with its central downstroke lightly rendered. A cross stroke from right to left above the curve gives T ; the addition to which of a small central cross produces F. A curved stroke begun at the right hand and orossing and connected with the top of the radical line shows I. A C added to this at the distance of a letter on the right side and joined by a hair-line gives us H. A. Small hair-line beginning on the right hand level with the top of the curve, running parallel with it part of the way down, and turning in to touch it, makes K. This stroke is also plainly the foundation of B, P, R, and D. If any should think these details unimpor- tant, we would remind them that the key to success in every art or branch of science is to attain a clear notion of what we have to acquire. “If a man has a clear idea of what he is going to do,” says Abernethy, “he will seldom fail in selecting the proper means of accomplishing it.” The diversities of form of the capitals scarcely admit of any rigorous * * * * classification. Perhaps the best Classifiºn of is that of Mr. Foster, who says *P* relative to the formation of the capitals:— “The principal element in the capital letters resembles Hogarth's line of beauty. It forms the down stroke of I, J, T, F, P, B, R, S, L, D, and the first part of H and K. “The following rules should be carefully observed :— i “1. The height of the capitals is the same as that of the looped letters among which they stand. “2. The slope should correspond with that of the small letters, except N and Z. The down- stroke of the N should be nearly perpendicular. “3. The highest part of the top curve of PENMAAWSIIAP, 399 --------------" -- P, B, R and D, should be to the left of the body stroke. The indented turn in the last part of B, R and K takes place in the middle of the letter. “4. The upper and lower loops in the letter H are equal. The small horizontal loops at the bottom of L, D and Q should be alike. “The capitals may be divided into six classes :- “ Fºrst class. . . . A, M, N, W. Second class . . . C., G. O. Third class. . . . I, J, F, T, S, L, D. Jourth class . . . P, B, R. Fifth class . . . . -> Siaºth class . . . . U, V, Y, X, Q, Z. “The lotters A, M, N and W are formed from the right line pointed at top and bottom. “The letters C, E, O and G are formed from the ellipse or oval, “The first part of U, V, and Y is a right line curved at the top and bottom.” We have before drawm attention to the mecessity for giving an elliptic contour to the curves of capitals (and, indeed, to those of the small characters also) ilºt as many still ad- * - - here to the old-fashioned and * inelegant circular sweeps, it is well to insist upon this point. A reference to fig 18, where the first example of each letter is based on the circle, and the second upon the ellipse, will suffice to show the manifest superiority of the latter outline. To further elucidate this matter, we give at fig. 19 a method of forming what has been called the “chirographic curve,” which will be found to prevail in all well-formed letters, whether small or capital. Take any two right lines at pleasure, as A B and C D, and form with them any angle, as FIE G. Divide the leg FIE into any number of equal parts, as F, 3, 2, 1, E ; divide also the leg E G into a similar number of equal parts. Draw straight lines from F to 3, from 3 to 2, from 2 to 1, and from 1 to G, and the inter- sections, F, c, b, d, G will be points in the curve, which may be easily traced through them by hand. If a greater number of points were required, they could have been readily obtained by dividing the respective limbs of the angle into a greater number of parts and proceeding as before. Useful as all these theoretical (if we may use the term) exercises undoubtedly are, the art of forming elegant and symmetrical capitals is only to be attained by assiduous practice after good copies. The size of capitals may be two and a half times that of the body of the Small letters in text-hand, and rather larger—say three times - º the body of the small letters—in Size of capitals, round and small hands. This may, however, be considered as in great measure a matter of taste. Capitals should be formed with as few lines as practicable, eschewing flowing heads, tails, and loops, or TIG. 18.—CIRCULAR e/3.7%66 AND ELLIPTIC CURYES. flourishes and superfluous strokes, except, of course, in distinctively ornamental writing. ROUND HAND (fig. 20) does not call for any remark, being precisely similar to text and half-text in every respect but size. It is un- necessary to give copies, as the student may easily select such words and sentences as will be suitable to the breadth of his writing-book. The result of all the previous labour should be seem in a facile and correct execution of Small hand, the last and most important style of writing. In what may be called “formal ‘’ small hand, which should be the deliberately- formed and methodical species to which the student proceeds after sufficient preliminary practice at half-text and round hand—the shapes of the letters and modes of junction do not differ materially from those of these two latter hands. Specimens of small hand are given at fig. 20, and it will be seen that both capitals and small letters have the usual form of those used in the larger hands. A consider- able deal of practice should be devoted to copies of small hand, which may be advanta- geously selected from historical, geographical or scientific statements of facts. After a fair amount of practice in a careful and deliberate manner at the regular style of small hand, and the attainment of ability to write large text, half-text, round-hand, and small hand, both capitals and Small letters, correctly, with due pro- portion of space between the parts of each lotter and the lettersthemselves, and with an uniform ſ: slope of 58 Results in d e g r c e s current hand. th rough- out, the penman may consider himself pre- parcd to take the important step of endea- vouring to acquire rapidity. This change owes its importance to the fact that it will in all probability form his future handwriting. Such is the invariable result, for instance, when a boy leaves school. All the “hands º' specified are, we may say, “school hands” that is, they are rather preparatory steps to writing than writing itself. Except for the headings of day-book or ledger, or similar purposes, large hands are of little practical utility, and the Small hand fashioned on their pattern and written almost as slowly would also be useless for the needs of the work-a-day world. If any of our readers should however be inclined to exclaim, “Why then should I go through this probation ?” or “Why should I not learn writing ” (save the mark 1) “in six short lessons 7” we reply,–Because inot a stroke you have made, not a line you have written, has been wasted. You have now a clear idea of the essential parts of all our written characters, and, which is of no less import- ance, you have—if our instructions have been followed out faithfully—acquired a freedom and command of hand which will make the step from the stiff style of the copybook to the free flowing one required in "a merchant's counting-house marvellously easy. You have but to gradually increase the speed, not re- 400 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTO AE. laxing your carefulness. You have to adopt any modification of letters or junctions which com- mend themselves to your judgment as tending to rapidity without impairing legibility, and the result will be not only the acquirement of a good business hand, but the capacity for writing unweariedly for long hours, or even day after day and week after week. It is precisely here where the benefit of the assidu- Ous training of the hand is seen, and this result is worth any amount of pains. And, contrari- wise, it is precisely Good effects of initiatory training. “It will be found that every elegant and ready penman, often without being conscious of the fact, uses the hand and arm as much, and as readily, as the fingers, and the more so in proportion to the rapidity of his execu- tion. The reason is obvious : as the words proceed from left to right, it is evident that any one who depends upon the use of the fingers alone will be unable to write a word extending an inch or more upon the line, without having his hand thrown over from left to right, in order to allow for the action of the pen upon the paper. The third here that systems which and fourth fingers re- profess to teach pen- maining fixed while manship in a few hours fail. The power of moving the end joints of the fingers freely and easily can only be gained by practice, and Only by such motion can writing be done legibly, swiftly, and pleasantly. The stiff- finger method only re- Sults in a Scratchy ugly style of writing, unsuited alike to business o Official need. - While increasing the speed, the pupil should always strenuously resist a natural tendency to give an angular style to his writing, instead of a round, bold outline. It is probable that he will feel that a kind of semi-angular hand can be written more rapidly than well-rounded characters. But there are two individuals to be considered in relation to writing—the reader, as well as the penman. Now, all angular hands Written fast are fearfully ille gible; while pen- manship cha- racterised by a good boldly- FIG. 19.--CHIROGRAPHIC CURVE. IZZZZZZZZZZZZººſ IZZZZZZZºº...I the other two are carry- ing the pen to the end of a word, the hand is cramped and strained. On finishing a word the hand is jerked along, and the under fingers made to take up a new position. This they retain until the hand is turned nearly over, and the fingers that hold the pen are again stretched as far in advance of the others as they can bear, when a new jerk is given, and so on till the writing is finished. “Let any bad writer observe his own mode of execution, and, in nine cases out of ten, he will find that he bears the weight of his arm upon the wrist, and uses the two last fingers as a fixed prop. Thus his writing is uneven and crooked, and how can it be otherwise? The radius of the circle of motion is very short, reaching only from the end of the middle finger, which is fixed to the point of the pen. The centre of curved out- line is always easy to read, h O W e V e r / / _{Z (Z2 motion is changed every time he lifts his wrist, and quickly it may his writing have been continually executed. tends to take The student the form of must not how- segments of ever forget, small circles; while confin- ing the forma- tion of the small-hand sº letters strictly to the upper joints sº hºness of the fingers of the right hand, ** that that hand must also acquire facility in traversing the paper from left to right in an accurate line, and with an unvarying speed. It is only by the combination of this “travelling ” movement of the hand, and the “formative ’’ motions of the fingers, that cor- rectness and rapidity can be combined. On this point, Foster, an American writer, has well observed :- TIG. 20.—ROUND HAND SMALL ALPHARET. to prevent which he is compelled to make c on- stant efforts to keep a straight line, and thus wearies and pains his fingers. The root of the principal faults in the common method of teaching penmanship seems, therefore, to be this : that the pupil is directed, or permitted, to rest the wrist, and generally also the third and fourth fingers, and to execute the writing with the fingers alone. “The only means of avoiding the difficulties above mentioned is to acquire a mastery of the movements of the hand and arm by which free AEAVMAAVSHIP. 401 *— writing is executed. To accomplish this object the learner should practise exercises composed of single letters and words widely separated by means of inclined lines running from letter to letter, or from word to word. Each line should extend across the page, and be written offhand, without lifting the pen. “The object next in importance to a free movement of the hand and arm is a dexterity in the use of the fingers, the latter being as essential in the formation of the looped letters as the former is in r —— - Z232 ºzzºziº should join it at the top; the 2 should be made exactly like capital Q ; 3, open at the top, and a well-formed curve at the bottom ; 4, small loop at the tail, and then the line carried hori- zontally, the down-stroke cutting the horizontal line in the middle, and going as far below as above it; 5, crossed at the top with a straight line, and a good round curve at the bottom; 6, the body half the length of the whole figure, and the back slightly curved ; 7, short down- sº tº º stroke, then + the curve taken from middle promoting stroke, and uniformity _; the tail of and despatch. FIG. 21.-SPECIMIEN OF FIGURES IN WRITING. the figure To accom- carried below plish this the learner should practise the short letters in combination with the long S; and also such words as shy, phthisic, philosophy, philosophically, etc., to be written in a free off- hand manner, without lifting the pen.” Figures do not call for many remarks. The examples given in the present paper (fig. & 21) are sufficient to guide the Figures, student in this matter. Some dif- ference of opinion, or rather of practice, pre- 'vails, how- ever, respect- ing the figure “4, ” m any writers pre- ferring to bring the horizontal 'hair - stroke level with the 'bottom of loody figures, and then to strike the . Theavy down- general level of the bodies; while Others choose to keep the whole of the figure upon the line and to strike the horizont a 1 stroke at a Higher level. the line half the length of the 2; 8, with a good curve at the top; 9, make a good 0 on the line, and the same size as the 2, and then the tail as long as that of the 7,” avoiding “the almost universal error of com- mencing to make the tail above the cipher. Tail of 9 should touch the cipher, but should not cut it.” (See fig. 21.) Some may perhaps take exception to the shape recommended here for the figure of 2, and prefer a more precise form. Vulgarfrac- tions are writ- ten in two dif- ferent styles, as shown in our illustra- tion (fig. 22). In the first instances the nu m era, to r and denomi- nator are di- vided by a d i a g o In a 1 stroke; in the latter by a horiz on tal One. The for- mer plan is that usually adopted, al- though the latter is the more legible Of the two. In writing deci- mesmº. ººms m sºme ºm. * * * * **** strokethrough * * *-ºs, sº 7/º --- 22 ſº Ž Z 7– # * * 2 *_2(Z. :/º The “6” may ----------------- project above the body let- ters half as far as the “7” and “9” descend lbelow them. The following details of the formation of the figures are taken from a paper by Mr. J. Cox, and appear to us so just that we adopt them in preference to giving any of our own — “All the figures should be of the same size, except the 7 and 9, which should be half as Xong again as the rest. The upstroke of the 1 VOL. I. FIG. 22. —SMALL HAND ALPHABETs. mal fractions, Care should be taken that the virgule or point is correctly placed, as a mis- take in this matter would probably entail a very serious error. The point should always be sufficiently high—say about two-thirds the height of the figures it divides. On the importance of writing figures with care it is hardly necessary to say anything. The most serious errors in mercantile life have too often arisen from carelessness in this respect. 26 gº THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. THE PRONOUNs (continued). 1. The personal pronouns are thus declined:— Pronoun of the First Person. Singular. N. ego I W. (wanting) Ac. me Inne G. mei of me D. mihi to me Ab. me from me Plum'al. N. mos We W. (wanting) Ac. nos tlS G. nostrám or nostri of us D. nobis to us Ab. nobis from us Pronoun of the Second Person. Singular. N. tu thou or you W. tu O thou or you Ac. te thee or you G. tui of thee or you D. tibi to thee or you Ab. te with thee or you Plug'al. N. vos ye or you W. Vos O ye or you Ac. vos ye or you G. vesträm or vestri of ye or you D. vobis to ye or you Ab. vobis with ye or you For the pronoun of the third person, he, she, it, is, ea, id, and ille, illa, illud, are usually employed. 2. The reflective pronoun always refers to the nominative case of the sentence, and cannot, therefore, have a nominative case. It is thus declined :- Singular and Plural. N. (wanting) Ac. se or sese himself, herself, itself, or themselves of himself, herself, itself, or themselves to himself, herself, itself, or themselves by himself, herself, itself, or themselves G. sui D. sibi Ab. Se or Sege Observe that there are no distinct reflective pronouns in the first and second persons, be- cause the different cases of ego and tu are used reflectively—as, mei, of myself, mihi, to my- self, twi, of thyself, tibi, to thyself, volis, to yourselves. 3. Possessive pronouns are formed from the first and second personal pronouns, and the third reflective pronoun, and are declined as adjectives, Wester M. F. N. IIléllS Iſle 8. IIlèll Iſl my or mine like tuus tua tuum thy or thine W bonus SllllS Sll 8, SUllllll his, her, its, their noster nostra nostrum Our, ours like vestra vestrum your, yours Water Observe, however, that meus makes its voca- tive singular masculine in mi, as mi fili, O my son, except when joined to Deus, and then it 7'etains, as does Deus, the nominative for the vocative—as meus Dents, not mi Deus. 4. The demonstrative pronouns are thus de- clined :-- Hic, this (near me). Singula?'. N. hic haec hoc W. (wanting) Ac. hunc hanc hoc G. hujus hujus hujus D. huic huic huic Ab. hac hâc hoc Plaſh'al. N. hi haº haec W. (wanting) Ac. hos has haec G. horum harum horum, D. his his his Ab. his his his Is, that, or he, she, or it. Singular. N. is ©8, id: W. (wanting) Ac. eum €8.IIl id G. ejus ejus ejus D. ei ei ei Ab. eo eå €0 Plºt?'al. N. ii ©82 €8, W. (wanting) Ac. eos ©8,S e8. G. edrum 08, I'll Iſl €OI’llº. D. eis or iis Ab. eis or iis Ille, that (yonder) Singular. N. ille illa illud. V. (wanting) Ac. illum illam illud G. illius illius illius D. illi illi illi Ab. illo illā illo Plum'al. N. illi illae illa W. (wanting) Ac. illos illas illa G. illorum illarum illorum. D. illis illis illis Ab. illis illis illis Iste, that (near you) Singular. N. iste ista istud W. (wanting) Ac. istum istam istud G. istius istius istius, D. isti isti isti Ab, isto istă isto ASTRO VOMY. 403 Pluya/. IN. isti istæ ista V. (wanting) Ac. istos istas ista G. istorum istarum istorum D. istis istis istis Ab, istis istis istis Idem, the same, ASímgular. N. idem ëädem idem V. (wanting) Ac. eundem eandem ídem G. ejusdem ejusdem ejusdem D. eidem eidem eidem Ab. eodem eâdem eodem Plural. IN. iidem eædem eadem V. (wanting) Ac. eosdem easdem eadem G. eorundem earumdem eorumdem ID. eisdem or iisdem or isdem Ab. eisdem Or iisdem or îsdem Singula?”. IN. ipse ipsa ipsum V. (wanting) Ac. ipsum ipsam ipsum G. ipsius ipsius ipsius D. ipsi ipsi ipsi Ab. ipso ipsâ ipso Flural. . ipsi ipsæ ipsa V. (wanting) Ac. ipsos ipsas ipsa G. ipsorum ipsarum ipsorum D. ipsis ipsis ipsis Ab. ipsis ipsis ipsis 5. The relative promoum is tbus declined:— Singular. N. qui quæ quod V. (wanting.) Ac. quem quam quod G. cujus cujus cujus D. cui cui cui Ab. quo quâ quo Plura?. N. qui quæ quæ V. (wanting.) Ac. quos quas quæ G. quorum quarum quorum ID. quibus or queis Or quis Ab. quibus O queis oY quis In like manner also are declimed its com- N. Ac. G. ID. Ab, N. V. Ac. G, ID. Ab. pounds, as, e.g.:— Singular. quidam quædam (wanting.) quendam quamdam cujusdam cujusdam cuidam cuidam quodam quâdam B/w )*al. quidam quædam (wanting.) quosdam quasdam quorundum quarundam quibusdam quibusdam quibusdam quibusάam quoddam quoddam cujusdam cuidam quodam quædam quædam quorumdum quibusdam quibusdam Observe that in the accusative singular and in the genitive plural, when m comes before d, the ®), is changed into m for the sake of euphomy. 6. The interrogative pronoum is thus de- clined :— ASìngular. N. quis or qui quæ quid or quod V. (wanting) Ac. quem quam quid or quod G. cujus cujus cujus ID. cui cui cui Ab, quo quâ qu0 A/a/7'a7. N. qui quæ quæ V. (wanting) Ac. quos quas quæ G. quorum quarum quorum ID. quibus or queis or quis Ab. quibus or queis or quis In like manmer are also declined the com- pounds of qui, except that aliquis, ecquis, and siquis make the nominative singulaT feminine, and nominative and accusative plural neuter, end in qua, as— ASingular. N. aliquis aliqua aliquid or aliquod V. (wanting.) Ac. aliquem aliquam aliquid OT aliquod G. alicujus alicujus alicujus D. alicui alicui alicui Ab. aliquo aliquâ aliquo Alq/j-a 7. N. aliqui aliquæ aliqua V. (wanting.) Ac. aliquos aliquas aliqua G. aliquorum aliquarum aliquorum D. aliquibus aliquibus aliquibus Ab. aliquibus aliquibus aliquibus Observe (1) that the relative pronoun agrees with its antecedent nouum in gender, number, and persom, but not in case: Feliæ est vir quem Deus amat, happy is the man whom God loves. (2) The forms quis and quid can be used by themselves without a noum, as quis es ? who art thou ? quid est ? what is it ? The foTms qùì and quöd are used interrogatively with a noum, asTqui homo es ? what mam aTt thou ? quid mare hoc est ? what sea is this ? XIII. «* CAssINI`s DISCOYERIES (contìnued).— NEBULAE.—VARIABLE STARS. WHILsT observing SatuTn im 1675 Cassini dis- covered that the rimg of that planet is divided into two by a black line, so tbat it appears to be composed of two concentrie rimgs, and mot one. This diseovery excited much imterest, amd was soom coxnfirmed. He haúl, however, been amtici- 404 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. pated in his discovery by William Ball, a Devonshire gentleman, who, ob- serving Saturn on Oct. 13, 1665, with a 38-feet telescope, per- ceived that its ring was nearly double. But, as in many similar instances, the discovery having been made by a comparatively ll Il- known astronomer, it did not excite any attention, and was soon forgotten. This diyi- sion in the ring of Saturn is called Ball's division, after its original discoverer. + In 1684, when the ring of Saturn was again turned edgeways towards the earth, Cassini scrutinised the planet with great care to see if there were yet other satellites. He made use of telescopes of great power, and having lengths of 100 and 136 feet respec- tively, with apertures of about six inches, and magnifying over 200 times. His per- Severance Wºls l'e- warded by the dis- covery of two more Dis f satellites, both of them much a.º. closer to the planet than any lites tº saturn, of the three previously known. One of these is now known as Diome, and revolves round the planet in 2 d. 18 h. : and the other is called Tethys, and requires only 1 d. 21. h. to revolve round the planet. In commemoration of these brilliant discoveries Louis XIV. had a medal struck bearing the inscription, “Saturni satellites primum cogniti.” The invention of the micrometer enabled astronomers to deduce the apparent diameter of the celestial bodies. The sun was found to have a diameter of rather more than half a degree, and to * º”/ º º Duplicity of Saturn's ring. º vary slightly with the varia- tions in the dis- tance of the earth from the sun, but its º ºgº a verage dia- **** * * º, sº ... ºs-Sºº. § meter was fixed º ºars at 32° 10'. The fº jºſa - diameter of the moon was found to vary between 29}, and 33}| ac- cording to its distance from the earth, its mean diameter being 31' 20.” From its transit across the sun, Hevelius found that the mean diameter of Mercury was 6". Cassini de- termined the mean diameter of Venus to be 18", but when it was near the earth its diameter increased to over 1’, rendering it apparently the largest of all the planets. The distance of Mars from the earth being extremely variable, its diameter was found to vary between 5" and 30", its mean diameter being 7”. The larger planets varied little in apparcnt size, the mean diameter of Jupiter being 40", and of Saturn 20", though the ring * > - N - sº-> * º º; FIG. 46,-saturn AND HIs RINGs. FIG. 47.-coxſ PARATIVE size of THE SUN As snRN FROM THE PLANITS. f/ of this last was 45" in diameter. From these measures and Cassini's value for the distance of the sun–namely 86 millions of miles— it followed that the diameter of ... the sun was 800,000 miles, or Size of the sun, more than one hundred times ". * that of the earth, and its volume * more than a million times as great. The moon was found to have a diameter of 2,180 miles, or to be in volume only one-eightieth of that of the earth. Mercury was found to be but little bigger than the moon, and Venus to be almost exactly the same size as the earth. Mars was smaller, having a diameter of about 4,700 miles, or about three-fifths of the diameter of the earth, so that it would have a volume of about one-fifth. Jupiter had a diameter of 87,000 miles, or twelve times as great as the earth, so that this giant planet was in volume nearly two thousand times greater than our planet. Saturn was slightly smaller, the diameter of the planet being only 79,000 miles, but its ring was nearly 200,000 miles across. We shall see subsequently that these values were not very far out, and they enable a good idea to be formed of the relative dimensions of the different bodies of the solar system. When the heavens were studied with more perfect telescopes than those employed by Galileo, it began to be discovered that the heavens contained other objects than the stars. Thus in 1656 Huygens discovered an astonish- ing feature in a star in the constellation called Orion—a star which had been designated 0 by - Băyer. It ap- peared to be fixed in the midst of a faint filmy cloud of light, much as if it were sur- rounded by im- mense masses of Venus. Earth. Ceres. Jºjiter. Saſurn, Uranus faint luminous - Ç r) o gas, whilst the Meptune surrounding sky was intensely black. Huygens had discovered, in fact, the cele- Di fth brated Nebula of Orion. Astro: *.*.* nomers had long been aware of nebulae, the existence in the heavens of nebulous patches of faint light, much like isolated patches of the Milky Way but when these were examined with the tele- scope they were seen to be groups of closely packed very faint stars, or, as they are called, i. star clusters.” One of these existed in the constellation Cancer, and was called Prºserpe; another existed in the constellation Perseus (and it is shown in fig. 48 as it appears in an early drawing), and a third near Leo. But this º ASTRONOMY 405 object was of a very different nature, because when seen in the telescope, instead of being seen resolved into an aggregation of stars, it seemed to be like a luminous mass of vapour. At first it was surmised that it might be something of the nature of an atmosphere to the stars which it surrounded—or rather, that was one of the first reasonable suppositions, for all kinds of fanciful ideas were promulgated, such as it being an aperture in the heavens. This idea was speedily negatived, for it was remembered that some- thing similar had been observed by Simon Marius, a German astronomer, and des. cribed by him in a work entitled “ Mundus Jovialis,” published in 1612. In the northern heavens, in the con- stellation Andromeda, can be seen with the naked eye a faintly marked spot of light. When Marius looked at this with his telescope he saw it was not a star, nor a group of stars, but a narrow elliptical spot of light, with apparently an area as large as that of the moon. It was not unlike a patch of grey mist, or, as Marius remarked, looked like a piece of transparent horn illuminated by a candle placed behind it. It could not be an atmosphere to a star, because there was no star near it, as in the case of the nebula seen by Huygens. An idea of the form of these nebulae may be obtained from the figures, but it is impossil-le to reproduce their filmy, hazy ap- pearance in a woodcut. For a longtime these nebulae perplexed astro- Homers. A third was discovered, in 1665, by Abraham Ihle, in the constellation Sagit- tarius ; a fourth was seen, in 1677, by Halley, in the southern con- stellation Centaurus. Kirch, in 1681, was the disc overer of a fifth. Hevelius saw another, and Halley subsequently dis- covered another, only much brighter than the last, and just visible to thenakedeye. It is in the constellation Hercules, and has an irregular form, and an early drawing of it is shown in fig. 49. As telescopes were improved and rendered more powerful, some of these nebulae, and in particular Nºlº sº... that in Hercules, were found to posed to be star - ...” be clusters of very minute stars; and the opinion gradually gained weight that they might all be clusters of stars, FIG. 48.-CLUSTER IN PLRSEUS. FIG. 49.-NEBULA IN HERCULES. only so very far off that they could not be seen separately, but appeared like a misty patch of light. Astronomers also discovered that some of the stars which seemed to the naked eye to be one star were really composed of two stars very close together. Thus Gassendi and Ric- cioli remarked that the star in the middle of the tail of the Great Bear was really composed of two stars, a bright one and a faint one. It was soon after dis- covered that the prin- cipal star in the con- stellation Gemini, or a Geminorum, was com- posed of two equally bright stars placed very closeto each other. The stars y Virginis, ^ Delphini, y Arietis, B Cygni, also were seen to be composed of two stars close to each other ; and Huygens discovered that the star 6 Orionis was composed of three stars placed very close to one another in a kind of triangle. They did not regard this as anything very strange, for it seemed probabie that it was a mere matter of chance that the two stars should be so close together. Thus with the naked eye there can be seen stars, so close together as to seem almost to touch—as for instance the stars called e Lyrae and a Capri- corni. Astronomers had long been aware that occasionally new stars made their appearance in the heavens, and after shining brightly for a while gradually grew fainterandfainter until they disappeared altogether. Instances of such temporary stars were known long before the invention of the telescope. It was the appearance of a tem- porary star which led Hipparchus to form the first extant cata- logue of stars. Tem- porary stars had also been seen in A.D. 390, 945, and 1264. A famous instance is that seen in 1572, when Tycho Brahé discovered a bright new star in the constellation Cassiopoeia, when it was the brightest object of the kind in the heavens and visible in full daylight. It gradually grew fainter, and disappeared some time in 1574. In 1604 another temporary star was seen, this time in the constellation Serpentarius, springing into full brightness almost instantly, and surpassing any other star in the heavens. Like its predecessor, it gradually 406 THE UNIVERSAL IWSTR UCTOR. grew fainter, and disappeared early in 1606. Both these remarkable instances were before the discovery of the telescope, and no other case of the kind has occurred since, although minor instances have been seen. Thus Janssen in 1600 saw a bright new star in the constella- tion Cygnus; it gradually disappeared, but in 1657 this star reappeared and again faded out of sight. In 1670 Hevelius saw another temporary star in the same constellation. These instances, though probably of the same nature as the very brilliant new stars of 1572 and 1604, were of much less marked character. Astronomers recognised before long some remarkable cases of change in the brightness of the stars. One of the strangest of these is the star oin the constellation Cetus. It was seen by Fa- bricius, in 1596, as a star of the 2nd magnitude, but soon disappearing, was considered by most astronomers a temporary star. Bayer saw it several years later, but did not identify it with the temporary star of Fabricius. In 1628 Phocylides, a Dutch astronomer, saw it gradually growing brighter, and was led to watch it with care. It became of the 2nd magnitude, and then growing fainter dis- appeared altogether. Later, however, he again sawit reappear, grow brighter, and disappear, and an- nounced that it was a variable st a r. Bouillaud, a French astronomer, carefully watched it for years, and compared all the observations, and showed that it went through its variations in brightness in a pe- riod of nearly a year —being invisible for two or three months, visible only in a telescope for the same time, and for the remainder of the time visible as afaint star for four months and as a bright star for about half that time, shining like a star of the 2nd magnitude for over a fort- night. One or two other stars were also found to be variable in brightness, but not to anything like the same degree as o Ceti; but to this day astronomers have been unable to discover any satisfactory explanation of the phenomenon. In cases of this sort, one guess is perhaps as good as another, and the reader may well exercise his ingenuity upon the problem. Certainly, when we consider that these variable stars are bodies of almost inconceivably enormous bulk, and that they lie remote from us at an inconceiv- ably enormous distance, any increase or de- crease in their brilliancy represents nature at work on a truly gigantic scale, which, if it raises in us feelings of the deepest wonder, must also excite the most lively curiosity. FIG. 50.-GREAT NEBULA of of Ion. THE CONSONANTs (continued.) $ 66. L-English, l ; loup, wolf; quelque, some. It is generally articulated at the end of a word : bal, ball, il, he , these also sound the l ; arril, babil, cil, easil, fil, mil (a thou- sand), pistil, profil. The final l is mute (a) in baril, chenil, cowtil, fusil, gril, nombril, owtil, persil, sourcil, fils, soil, cul-de-jatte, cul-de- lampe, cul-de-sac. For words in il having the liquid sound see $ 53. (b) In the syllables awl, auld, ault, aula', owld, aula', met with in proper nouns: Saulnier, la Rochefoucauld, l'Hérault, Raula', Ste Ménehould, Javoula. REMS.–1. Gentil =genti, gentilshommes = gentizom'; the fem. gentille and the sing. gentilhomme possess the liquid sound. 2. The derivatives of babil, fusil, gril, ow- til, persil, sourcil— as babiller, fusillade, grille, etc. — make ll liquid. 3. Words in il given in (a) never, with the ex- ception of gril, con- nect the l; when gril precedes a vowel its l has the liquid sound ; in the plural they all connect thes. § 67. L.L offers a difficulty : it is pron. sometimes as one l, sometimes as two. Although we can nei- ther give a rule nor complete lists, this difference is not based on caprice, and after a little practice the learner will discover that the more a word resembles the original Greek or Latin, the more likely will it be that it articulates both l's, whereas words that have undergone a more thorough trans- formation, or that present themselves more readily in familiar speech, sound only one l. Leaving out of sight the combination ill, which has been fully treated in § 53, we shall con- tent ourselves with one set of examples : pal- ladium, Pallas, pallium, pellicule, pellweide, pollen, pollicitation, polluer, Pollua', pulluler, etc., sound both 7's ; whereas pellagre, pellar- deau, pelleterie, having been more thoroughly assimilated, sound only one. § 68. M has the same articulation as in English, except where it is nasal (see § 44). It is quite mute in these words: automne, damner, condammer, damnation, condamnation. The final m of the nasal sounds am, aim, om, um, is not connected : Adam est notre père à tous. FREVOII PRO WUAVCIATION. 407 Unefaim insupportable, Un nom illustre, Un parfum exquis. It is carried on when it is not nasal : Abraham Talla jusqu’à Morija, Bethléem^en Judée, Un requiem Ten musique Le sel d'Epsom Test purgatif, |Un géranium Ten fleur. The connection, however, must be as slight as possible; it is, so to speak, involuntary, and brought about by the mere position of the lips. § 69. WCorresponds to the English n except in those positions where it is nasal (see § 44). Placed at the end of a word where it is articu- lated, it is connected, but not in a very marked manner; il ditTamem à tout, le lichen/Test atm. wegétal, les fleurs of le pollen Tabonde. Some nasal syllables are connected when they are final; the nasal sound is usually preserved, but there are afew exceptions. Taking am, em, in, on, un, in order, we find the following facts:– an is not connected : un an et demi, le grana Pan est mort. en : preposition or pronoun, is connected in enſ Angleterre, s'en Taller, on Tenºa parlé— say en-man, en-ma, on-men-ma; but donmez-m'en wn peu, buwez-en une goutte, because en here has no grammatical connection with the next word.—With the exception of bien and "ien, the nasal ien (or yen) forms no connections : bien €crire = bien-mé, bien & propos = bien-na, ove vois-tu ?'ien/Ten moi qui Semte l'écolier = a'ien-mem; moyen/Täge, un ancienTami are also connected. in ; divin amour, malin, esprit make in-ma, in-mê ; but say moulin à vent. on : the indefinito pronoun on is connected while retaining its nasal Sound : on aime = on- Qaime; bom, mon, tom, som are connected, but lose the nasal : bom ami =bo-ma, mom enfant = 2nd-men ; tom homºne = to-mom. ; son habit = so-ma. The adverb mon is not connected : non ici onais là ; in the following neologisms it is con- nected : non-ètre, non-intervention, non-usage, but remains a nasal. ºn : the numeral wºn is connected and loses its nasal Sound: un homºne =w-mom'; likewise atteltºn : aucum ami = auct-ma. This pronuncia- tion, recommended by M. Littré, is not adopted by all. Commun interét = num-nim. Remark.--From what has been said above, it will be understood why in the following phrases there is no connection: Ces Cains pour lien ont la perte d'autriti (Victor Hugo), un chien enragé, l'ordre corinthien est le plus riche des ordres, combien en avez-vous 2 wºn moyen fº, que fait-on ici ? viendra-t-on aujourd'hui ? on est wºn sot, anon est un son | articulé, il parle d’un ton insolent, donner du son | awa, poules, il ne fatt pas bon avoir affaire & elle, un bon à recevoir, wn et un font deuc. § 70. P sounds as in English. It is always pronounced at the beginning of a word: psaume, Psychée, Ptolomée, pneumatique, ptarmigan; a double p is sounded as one : appelen' = apler, Jippodrome = i-po. In the body of a word, when ending the syllable it is generally heard: aptitude, eaemption, soupçon, présomption, ellipse, etc. P in baptème, compter, dompter, prompt, sculpture, and in all the derivatives of these, is mute ; it is also mute in sept, septième, sep- tièmement, but not in the other derivatives of sept ; in rompre, corrompre, and interrompre, the forms je romps, tu romps, il rompt, etc., are all read 7'on. At the end of a word p is generally mute : camp, champ, corps, coup, beaucoup, drap, galop, loup, sirop, temps, trop ; but it is pron. in Alep, cap, cep (before a vowel), croup, Gap, jalap, julep, biceps, Cécrops, laps, relaps, princeps, and in apt, abrupt, concept, "apt. (Pronounce both s and t in these words.) REMS.—1. The p in beaucoup may be con- nected. 2. Coup never connects, and des coups imprévus would be read cou-zim. 3. Corps joins the " : corps & corps = co-ra-con'; les corps avançaient=cor-za. 4. The s of temps is always connected : de temps en temps =tan-zan fan. 5. Trop is connected, yet in le trop et le trop peu and the like phrases, the sense of which requires a slight pause after trop, the connec- tion would be out of place. This remark is applicable to many other cases. § 71. Q. As an initial this letter is always followed by u, and has, as already mentioned (see $ 27), the sound of k in the majority of cases. It comes at the end of only a few words: cinq, coq. Observe these cases : the q of cinq is mute before a consonant, otherwise it is sounded as in coff, where it is mute in coq d'Inde only : cinq mowton, pr. sin, cinq oies, j'en ai cinq, pr. sink ; un combat de coqs say cock, wºn coq d'Indé say co. § 72. R. The r requires to be well articu- lated; it would be less objectionable to hear il man')'cha than to hear il mºi...cha. At the beginning of a syllable it is always pronounced as (it ought to be) in English : nous ramas- S6)'O??S= ?"(I-7)? (l-S(?-?'()?!, In prose there are two ways of pronouncing such syllables as bre, cre, dre, fre, gre, pre, etc. Before a consonant ambré, emere, mordre, Soufré, maigre, propre, etc., would be prom. as if after b, c, d, f, g, p, etc., there came a very slender e followed by , ; indeed, they are read like the Bnglish words of similar ending : robber, slender, after, etc. When the next word begins with a vowel or an h, mute the letters keep their proper order, and ombre agréable, mordre à l'hamegon, propre à tout should be read ombra, mor-dra, pro-pra. This articulation should also be adopted if the next word begins with an o' : un tigre royal must be read ti-gre, not ti-ger ; make the e as slender as possible, but place it after, not before, the ". In verse only one way is admissible—namely, bre, cre, dre, etc., and not the vulgar be)', cer, der, etc. What is said here of the r is equally applicable to l in the syllables ble, cle, etc. “Le dernier siècle a vu sur la Tamise (cla) croſſ. 20:91. * & qui l’eau sans bornes fut promise *wn, tra), Et, ift longtemps, Babel des mers, out Londres entier Levº * yeux dams l'ombre aw pied de son chantier (brant).” (Pictor Hugo.) (Our age has seem growing on the Thames a monster to whom the boundless surge was promised, and who, a very Babel of the seas, kept at the boundary of its yard London overshadowed, gazing for a long time.— The poet speaks here of the Great Eastern originally named Leviatham.) THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. YII. MOUNTAINS. STUPEND OUs as mountain Tanges and peaks appear to us, considered in relation to the size of the globe they produce but minute variations of its surface. The highest mountain, the culmi- nating peak of the Himalaya, rises to about five miles in direct altitude above the level of the sea, and is therefore only about rºuth part of the diameter of the globe. As an illustration, it may be said that a grain one-twentieth of an inch in diameter on the surface of an artificial globe seven feet in diameter would nearly repre- sent the comparative altitude of the loftiest Geographers commonly limit the mountain. #: É ãº E- Eº º §: sº Ł: Eº: wº 5: ####### £ºf £: ºš and physical geography are in some respects so nearly connected that it is necessary to notice Some few facts illustrative of general laws. A series of peaks, Serrated (resembling the teeth of a saw), is composed chiefly of dolomite, consist- ing of carbonate of magnesia mixed with carbon- ate of lime. Mountains with rounded heads are formed of calcareous rocks. Triangular points or peaks are formed of slate or quartziferous Schist (rocks which contain quartz and cannot be split into an indefinite number of laminae or plates, as slate can). Those lofty steeple-like peaks, often named, in popular language, “needles,” are crystalline schist. Ranges which exhibit irregular twistings and crum- plings are composed chiefly of serpentine (sili- cate of magnesia) and trachyte, a white or greyish rock, having a basis of felspar, with small embedded crystals of glassy felspar, mica, and hornblende. Mountains of pyramidal form are mainly of phonolite, or “clink-stone,” a compact greenish-grey rock, named from the #2, #3 jº - ºr sº A NOVA ZEMBLA LANDSCAPE. name mountain to isolated peaks or clearly defined ranges more than a thousand feet in elevation above the base. Masses of less magnitude are known as hills. The effects of the gradual cooling of the surface of the globe, of subterranean convul- sions and volcanic forces, have been described in a previous article ; and it is only neces- sary here to say that the principal causes of the formation of lofty masses and Tanges are denudation and internal forces. By denuda- tion is meant the removal by abrasion of Solid matter by water in motion, which, in regions with horizontal stratifications, hollows out valleys, carrying away the whole of the Superficial strata, leaving mountains composed of the barder material. The internal forces, producing upheaval of strata, have been already described. The consideration of the stratifica- tion of mountain masses belongs in detail to the department of GEOLOGY, and will be treated in the papers under that heading; but geology Origin of mountains, sharp ringing sound produced by a blow from a hammer. Rocks worn by atmospheric action. into Tounded masses are granite, or more rarely trap—a general term for dark green, grey, or black crystalline rock—and hornblende, a. variety of greenstone. The name “trap" is from the Swedish trappa, a stair, from the frequent step-like forms of the sides of hills of which it is a principal constituent. The interruption or separation of mountain chains of similar formation have mostly been produced by convulsions poste- © rior in date to the formation of Interruption of the chains; and we accordingly . find that the series of rocks of * which the mountains are composed are con- tinued beyond the interruption. Similarly, with respect to continental masses of land, almost all the straits and channels of the ocean. and the beds of rivers are only clefts or cavities of erosion ; and on both sides the same strata. can be usually recognized. Instances of this, are very perceptible in the Orkney Islands and PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY, 409 the north-west of Ireland, where the geolo- gical formation of the islands of Scotland is continued. South Calabria (Italy) and Sicily, Corsica and Sardinia, England and France, the two sides of the Red Sea, the rocky pro- montory of Gibraltar and the opposite coast of north-western Africa, Turkey in Europe and Asia Minor, the Crimea and the range of the Caucasus ; Cuba and Jamaica, in the western hemisphere, and the opposite coasts of Behring Strait, in the Arctic regions, afford other and very conspicuous illustrations. The Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb is a rift due to volcanic action which broke the connection between the prin- cipal chain of Central Africa and the mountains of Southern Arabia. The greater number of the larger islands have a similar relation to continental masses, prominent examples being afforded by Spitzbergen and Norway, Nova Zembla and the Oural (or Ural) Mountains, the Balearic Islands and Eastern Spain, some Middle Rhine, the ranges of Central France, the Oural, the Western Altai, and the Soliman chaims in Asia. In chains having a direction nearly nest and east, we have illustrations of the law in the principal chain of the Alps, the mountains in the South of Transylvania, the Balkan range, and the Taurus, the Hindoo-Koosh, the Kuen-lin, Himalaya, and Celestial Moun- tains in Asia. The observations of Humboldt established the fact that in a part of Asia there is a predominance of auriferous (golden) and platiniferous (containing platina) deposits in the mountain chains which have a direction. from north to south, a law which he had observed in the Old World, in reference to the auriferous deposits in the American Andes, in the Southern Alleghanies, and in the mountains of Brazil. Mountains seldom occur completely free and insulated—that is, rising from plains and remote from other masses. When they are so they & ; §§ § º § āş & - º º - §§ & ***- Sº - §§ 3׺š * 5 : tº $2, -ºº: º º § GIBRAL.T.A.R. of the islands of the Greek archipelago and the continental ranges of Olympus and Pelion, Cyprus and Rhodes and Asia Minor; and Crete and the Morea, the southern peninsula of Greece. It is also observable that neighbouring mountain ranges corresponding in direction s & º º exhibit a similarity of geological Similarity ºf formation; and that even when P** separated by arms of the sea, straits, or valleys, we may expect to find the Same structure in parallel, or nearly parallel 'anges. IEven where, owing to the spheroidal form of the earth, ranges of mountains distant from each other are not parallel, although they stand in similar relations to the north and South poles, they generally correspond in geological structure. We find proof of this—and other instances might be adduced, were multipli- cation of proof required—in ranges having a direction nearly from north to south, as in part of the Norwegian mountain system, some of the crests in the north of England, the banks of the are generally of volcanic formation. In all continents the line of greatest elevation of mountain ranges is placed out of the centre of the mass, from which result two slopes, unequal in length insulated mºun- and inclination, the longerm, º and known as the “slope,” and the"5* shorter or more precipitous, as the “counter slope.” As a general rule (subject, of course. to a few exceptions), in the Old World the long slope is towards the north and the short towards the south ; in the New World the long slope is towards the east and the short, towards the west. It may be affirmed, as a general rule, that all the “slopes” descend towards the Atlantic and the Arctic Ocean, which is a continuation of it; and all the “counter slopes "towards the Pacific and Indian Oceans, which are also connected. As the elevation and direction of mountain ranges necessarily determine the shape of continents, it may also be stated, as a general Tule, that the greatest length of con- 410 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. a wºm-a-Mºmº "-" ºr tinents corresponds with the direction of the chief mountain ranges. In Asia, the northern slope of the range of which the table-land of Thibet is the culmi- nating point is about 2,700 miles long, and the southern 450; the range in Asia Minor has a northern slope 320 miles long, and the Southern about 55. The main range of the Rocky Moun- tains has on the east an average slope of 1,700 miles long, and a western slope towards the Pacific of about 850 miles. In South America the difference between the two slopes is more striking : the chain of which Chimborazo is the highest peak has an average slope to the east of 1,900 miles, and to the west 75 miles. The sides of mountains being broken and rugged, the inclination of the slope obviously varies greatly in different parts; but, if we regard the declivity of a mountain as a plane surface joining the top and bottom, it is easy to deter- mine its inclination with respect to the horizon. The judgment formed from popular observation of the steepness of mountain slopes is often most erroneous. Perpendicular mountain walls, or even a near approach to the perpendicular, are only seen when powerful rending or abrading forces have been at work, as in the stupendous “caſions” of western North America. In the whole range of the Alps there is not a single rock which has a perpendicular face of 1,600 feet ; and the average inclimation of the Peak of Teneriffe, according to dumboldt, is only about 12% degrees. The declivity of Mont Blanc towards the Allée Blanche, steep as it appears, does not amount to 45 degrees. The Silla of Caraccas, which rises precipitously from the Caribbean Sea, at an angle of very nearly 53; degrees, to the height of more than six thousand feet, presents the nearest approach to perpendicularity of any great height known. The accompanying diagrams will assist us to appreciate the degrees of inclination. Steepness of mountain sides, DE GREES OF IN CLINATION'. A slope of 8 degrees is almost the maximum practicable for vehicles. Horses or mules encumbered by loads can hardly overcome 15 degrees. A man cannot climb a slope of 35 degrees if the ground be composed of rock, or is too hard to allow of steps being formed in it. THE STAFF NOTATION.—KEY SIGNATURES. HITHERTO, for the purpose of confining the pupil's attention to one thing at a time, we have merely used a mark to indicate the place of Doh on the staff. We now proceed to ex- plain the way in which the key is indicated. The staff is always supposed to be in the key of C. In the absence of any other signs the G of the treble staff is Soh, { { and the F of the bass staff is Fah. The . atural For this reason, key C is spoken ey. of as “the natural key,” and is treated as the centre of the tonal system. The staff notation is in fact a representation of the finger-board of the pianoforte, organ, etc. If, then, we see a staff like that above, we understand it to be in key C, and of course in this case C will always be Doh, D will always be Hay, A al- 1 / (NY f ways Lah, and so on. But we d'(C) have seen, in our Tonic Sol-fa t (B) m Studics, that C is not more used t as a key than F, G, or D. How, f"T "A then, shall we manage to ex- | * (A) r press other keys than C upon G the staff To understand this r S (G) d we must recall what was said fe—t, about transition in Chapter VII. f(F) The student will remember that d every time we change Sol. into t, m(E) 11 a new Doh, we have to raise the l old Fah by a semitone to make a new Te; and that every time | | * (D) si we change Irah into a new Doh, we have to lower the old Te a st d(C) f semitone to make a new Fah. I If now the student regards "Twopºro. the middle column of the modu: lator at the side as being in key C, he will see that in changing Soh into a new Doh we pass into key G (make The Key of G. Doh into G), and that we must make our now Ze by raising F a semitone. This raising of a note by a semitone is expressed in the staff notation by a sign called a sharp (::), placed On the line or in the space which it is desired to affect. Turning to the unmarked staff given above, we shall see that F is on the fifth line of the treble staff, and on the fourth line of the bass. On these lines, therefore, we place the Sharp when we wish to make the new Te for key G. When a piece of music begins in G it is usual to place this sign immediately after MUSIC. the clef. When standing here, it is understood to sharpen every F to the close of the piece. Now Suppose that we pass from C into the Fah key, lowering the old Te to make a new Fah (see Modulator). We are now in *** **, key F. in otheſwords, Fiji. The flattening is expressed by a sign called a flat, (2) ; and as Te is B, this flat must evi- dently stand upon the third line of the treble staff and the Second line of the bass staff. Extended 411 We noticed in Chapter VII. that the process of sharpening Fah and flattening Te was re- peated each time we removed to the next key. The subjoined Fººd diagram explains this. At either modulator. side, on the extreme left and right, are given the notes of the Standard Scale, C, B, A, etc.; and by looking at them we can at once see what notes of the Standard Scale we need to sharpen or flatten for any key signature. Modulator. Gb D'b. *.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.* B F; sº-Hº-Hº-Hº- ==TẠPèzTÉ. Hääzīā’āi-ſā-ā- #######################| J & -7 º º C” – — — —t — — m – – 1– — r – s – d'– f – — — — — — — — — — — — — C, B – f – — — — — — — — — — t—m— – 1 – r – – S – – d – – f – B — — m – – 1 — — r — — s— – d – f – — — — — — — — — — ti — — m A — — — — — — — — — ti – m – 1 —r – – S – d – – f – — — — — — — A – r – S – – d – – f – — — — — — — ti – m – – 11 — — r – G — — — — — — ti - -m – 11 – r – S – d – – f – – — — — — — — — — — G – d – – f – — — — — — — — — ti- m – 11 – – r- - s1 – – d – F – ti – m— – 11 — —r — — si – d – f – — — — — — — — — — — — t| – F E – – — — — — — — — — — tº — m—11— — r – s; – – d – – f – — — — E – – 11 – —r – – SI – —d – – f – — — — — — — — ti – – m – – 11 D — — — — — — . — -ti — –mi- 11 — r-si- – d – f – – — — — — — — D – SI – d – – f – — — — — — — — —t, — m/ – 11 – – r – – si – C — — — ti - -m- —ll — — ri — sº – d – f – — — — — — — — — — — — — C. g ——r——43. &N lºº Tº -TI—Jºãº- —r-a-º-º-r-z-H-#—- &########## -º- 2.É =###### #:#E #:#ze: Pip B 2n+ Tº —5)—£5 *es -L-e —---- —4–*—— 3 - F——— But there is an easier way of finding the lines and spaces on which the sharps and flats An easy rule of a signature stand. Remember ‘ always the place of C in the second space of the bass staff and the third space of the treble staff. Then reason in this way : “We sharpen Jºah (pointing to F sharp), changing it by that act into Te. From this Te we proceed to sharpen the Fah of the new key (pointing to C sharp), and so on until we have the number of sharps required for the signa- ture.” In the case of flats, starting from key C we flatten Te (B), which is now Fah. From this Fah we proceed to flatten the new Te, changing it into Fah, and so on until we have the number of flats required for the signature. The staff at the head of the diagram shows the commonly-used signatures, with the place oc- cupied by Doh. Those which lie beyond on either side are C sharp and C flat respectively. The staff standing at the foot of the diagram shows the signatures as they are placed on the bass staff. - The student should learn by heart the number of sharps or flats in each signature. The sentence “Go Down And Enter By Force" gives the order of the sharp keys in the initial letter of each word. Thus G has one sharp, D two, A three, etc. Repeated backwards, it gives the order of the flats. It follows from the above reasoning º the singer can invariably find To find the Doh, the }; at the beginning of a piece of music, by remembering that THE LAST SHARP TO THE RIGHT IS TE, and THE LAST FLAT TO THE RIGHT IS FAH. In writing the notation be careful to put the flats and sharps on the right octave of the note required. The diagram will be a guide in this matter. The key signature is usually printed at the beginning of every score. Sometimes, however, it is omitted in all scores after the first. From the instructions given, write, without reference to a book, (a) the signature of five flats on the G clef ; (b) the signature of five sharps on the F clef. Pupils are often puzzled, in translating from the Staff Notation into the Tonic Sol-fa, to know what octave marks they should use. They can, however, never go wrong if they remember that any Doh which springs from an unmarked note of the Standard Scale is itself a unmarked. The unmarked LZ notes of the Standard Scale are given at the side. Thus the Doh of key B flat, stand- ing on the third line of the treble staff, has no octave mark. But the D6h of key C, which stands one tone higher, in the third space of the treble staff, has an upper octave mark. The tenor and bass parts are, however, written in Tomic Sol-fa an octave higher than they really sound, in order to avoid the constant use of octave marks. Thus, in key C, the Doh on the line between the treble and bass staves is unmarked when it occurs in the soprano or A caution, Octave marks, contralto parts, but has an upper Octave mark 412 THE UNIVERSAI, IWSTR UCTOR. if it occurs in the tenor or bass. The following are illustrations of this rule :- ########&#e: J CAMBRIAN AND TOWER SILURIAN ROCKS (continued). THE Lingula flags, again, are well shown in Merionethshire, and occur also on the west side of the Longmynd rocks, and elsewhere. The Tremadoc slates, which are not represented at Llanberis, received their name from the town of Tro- madoc, in Carnar v On- shire, where they reach a thickness of two thou- sand feet ; they also occur at St. David's On Ramsay IS- land, a t Llanveran, and at Dol- gelly a n d Portmadoc. The Llan- deilo beds, which arc but imper- fectly repre- sented at ,, . Llanberis, occur in great thick- Lower Silurian ness in the Arenig mountains *****P of Merionethshire; and the well- shire, etc. rt L.” & known Štiper stones, which are a series of quartzose rocks, extending from Shrewsbury to near Bishop's Castle, in Shrop- shire—a distance of ten miles—belong to the Lower Llandeilo formation. They are also shown at St. David's, where they occur for the most part as black slates, and are nearly 4,000 feet thick. The Skiddaw slates of the Lake district are believed to belong to this group of rocks. The Upper Llandeilo beds occur at Llandeilo, in Caermarthenshire, at Builth, in Radnorshire, at Cader Idris, and at St. David's and elsewhere in Pembrokeshire. At Cader Idris they are intermixed with vol- canic ashes, etc. The Tocks overlying the Skiddaw slates in the Lake district, and known as the Borrowdale series, are believed to belong partly to this and partly to the next series, the Bala or Caradoc. These beds, represented on Snowdon by volcanic ashes and eruptive GRAPTOLITES. rocks, are best seen at Caradoc, Horderley, Nor- bury, and in the Bala district. The Loner Llandovery beds, which lie for the most part unconformably on the lower rocks, are not shown at all in Snowdonia. They have been Tegarded by some as forming with the Upper Llandovery beds a separate group. Following the Geological Survey, we have included them amongt the Lower Silurian strata. They are to be seen S.E. of Bala lake, and occur in many parts of South Wales. The fact that they lie unconformably on older beds is of course evidence that there was a considerable disturb- ance of strata after the Bala beds had been deposited. How far the Cambrian and Lower Silurian, strata extend eastward in England we do not and probably never shall know. It has been ascertained by boring that Upper Silurian strata occur at Ware in Hertfordshire at a. depth of 800 feet; and it is not improbable that the older rocks also pass underneath at a greater depth beyond the limits of Great Britain. Of the life of this old- world period we k n O w something. With respect to the pre- Cambria n GT3, WC 2, I’C: reduced to trust worthy inferences and probabi- lities. In the Cambri a n and Lower S i lu ri a n strata. We h a V e e V i- den c e of animal life in consider- a ble abun- dance—all of it marine. That dry land existed when the strata of which we are speaking were formed is a matter of certainty. But whether there was any life upon it, animal or vegetable, we cannot tell. A few doubtful specimens which may possibly have been land plants, but probably were algae (sea- weeds), have been found in Sweden and Canada, and in the Skiddaw slates of this country, but they are mere impressions, which afford but little information as to their chat- acter. Curious fossils, the nature of which is also doubtful, are found abundantly in the Cambrian rocks at Bray Head (Wicklow). These have been named Oldhamia, radiata, and Oldhamia antiqua. We cannot even be certain whether they belong to the animal or vegetable kingdom, but they are conjecturally regarded by many persons as calcareous seaweeds. Leaving these dubious fossils, the Cambrian beds at St. David's have yielded Sponges, pteropods, brachiopods, trilobites, and small bivalved crustaceans—for the dis- Lower Llan- dovery beds, lºsſ=n. ſº. Tº ſº r "Tºi i. |º] lſºſ; " " § | Wºl § # º º |º § | | Nº. §§" - § § | | º i *% | § |º ºVº i % y S. * w * w w * R N Y. * N * w * * W. * N w w * w w N !") | §§ º | | jº !, º ºl | | || “. l * | "... | | » º W ſ § : }} |& ºf sit * - º f sºlº º § sº l º & GEOI, OGY. 413 covery of which we are mainly indebted to the researches of Dr. Hicks. The same gentle- man has greatly enlarged our knowledge of the life represented in the “Menevian beds,” which iie between the Cambrian and the Lingula flags, as already mentioned. These contain, in addition, a small cystidean. Pteropods are a class of mollusca which have a pair of winglike fins ; the brachiopods are also molluscs, and are commonly called lamp-shells; the trilo- hites and cystideans are entirely extinct. These latter were very similar to the encrinites (stone-lilies), but were generally either without arms Or with very small ones. Thrilobites are very characteristic fossils of the older rocks, and are found from the Cambrian strata up to the carboniferous lime- Stone—in which, how- ever, they are compara- tively rare. The different genera vary greatly in appearance and also in size, some being very Small while others are as much as two feet in length. In most of them the “three-lobed ” ap- pearance which gives them their name is sufficiently obvious. The eyes were “compound” (that is, made up of facets), like those of insects, lobsters and crabs ; in a few forms no eyes are to be seen at all. The body is formed of segments, usually numerous, which gave these animals the power of rolling up ; and they were furnished with numerous legs. They appear to have lived in shallow waters and on muddy bottoms, and in some localities must have existed in extraordinary abundance. Proceeding upwards in our examination, the Temains of animal life become more abundant and varied. Every subdivision of these old rocks has its characteristic trilobites and other fossils. , A Small shrimp-like crustacean is found in the Lingula flags ; and a few mol- luscs, in ad- FYI: OF TRILOBITE GREATLY MAGNIFIED. are two hills—one bearing the name of the “Wren's Nest,” and the other, Upper Silurian upon which the ruins of Dudley . stand, that of “Castle rocks of Dudley. Hill.” Around the mass of limestone of which these two hills are the most prominent features lie the coal measures stretching to the N. and N.E. to Cannock Chase, to the south some distance beyond Halesowen, and extending E. and W. in their greatest width something over five miles. Through these coal measures the limestone, elevated by the action of sub- terranean forces in bygone ages, now rises, and if further evidence is required of these dis- turbances, it is afforded by the basaltic hills of Rowley, to be seen in the distance from either of the elevations named, and by other features to which it is unnecessary to refer. It is, how- ever, to these disturb- ances that we are indebted for a particularly con- venient opportunity of studying a very cha- Tacteristic exposure of the Upper Wenlock lime- Stone and shales. The “Wren's Nest'' is a small anticlinal dome formed mainly of the “shales,” which are best described by the term “mudstones.” These weather very readily, but with them bands of harder limestone occur, which are extensively worked here and at the Castle Hill for indus- trial purposes. The same beds are well shown at Wenlock Edge in Shropshire, from whence their name has been derived ; and both there and at Woolhope, near Hereford, their relation to the other members of the Upper Silurian system becomes apparent. At Woolhope these may be traced in succes- sion from the Llandovery beds * * * * upwards; and this has been ren- "...in dered possible because, as in Soth. Succession. many other instances, the rocks have been ‘dition to crum pled the “lamp- into folds s he ll s , ” and then O C Cur in sculptured the upper by atmos- beds Of the ORTEIOCERATITE. p h e r ic same for- a gen cles. mation. Chambered shells, including the well- 'known Orthoceratites, make their appearance in the Tremadoc slates, with crinoids and starfish. In the next group of rocks graptolites occur in abundance, the orthoceratites are more varied, and several species of univalve shells (sea-snails) are known. True corals also make their appearance in these rocks. The Bala and Caradoc beds are remarkable as having yielded Tho less than 111 species of trilobites, in addi- tion to a varied fauna consisting of crinoids, Cystidea, two genera of starfish, a large variety of brachiopods, and numerous bivalve and univalve shells. TJPPER SILURIAN ROCKS. North of the town of Dudley (Worcestershire) Walking along the denuded edges of the strata, the traveller passes from the central mass of the Upper Llandovery beds, acrosc the Lower Wenlock limestones and shales, then over the Upper Wenlock beds (similar to those at Dudley), and across the edges of the Lower, Middle, and Upper Ludlow rocks successively, until he reaches the base of the Old Red Sand- stone. The Ludlow formations receive their mame from the town of Ludlow in Shropshire, which stands upon the upper member of the series. The Denbighshire grits are coarse sand- stone rocks, which attain a great thickness in Denbighshire, and are generally classed with the Lower Wenlock beds. The Tarannon shales are slaty beds rarely fossiliferous, and may belong to the Upper Llandovery beds. Taken 414 | THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. as a series, the Upper Silurian rocks of this country were deposited in waters of no great depth. Their formation was preceded by great movements of the land; they show variations apparently due to local movements while their deposition was in progress, and a gradual subsidence seems to have been general over the entire area until the close of the period. The life of the Upper Silurian age, as it is represented by fossils, was both abundant and & varied. Trilobites occur in all The life ºthe the formations ; corals are also * abundant (82 species); the stone lilies occur in greater variety (55 species); there are several starfish, and a true echinus. Of the chambered shells (cephalopoda), there are no less than 53 species ; besides these there are many brachiopoda, true bivalves, and gasteropoda, etc., etc. In the Upper Ludlow strata, the earliest remains of fish have been discovered ; and from the same beds the remains of some remarkable crustaceans, known as Pterygotus and Eurypterus, have been obtained. Near the top of these rocks a thin seam is usually found, so rich with the remains of fish as to have received the name of “bone bed,” and above this bed have been found at May Hill small Fº of twig and Some spore-cases of a land plant—probably lycopodiaceous (belonging to the club-mosses). XIV. STUDY ON THE VERB © eyn. ©er $8ater iſt aſt. Øie Štimber ſimb dare fah'-terr isst allt dee kinn'-derr Zint f(eißig. 3)u biſt midt f(eißig gepeſen. flyss'-ich doo bisst nicht flyss'-ich ge-vai'-zen Øer ºann war ſettte ſter. $ft bie Gºſſweſter dare mann vah” hoiſ-te hee?” ist dee shºcess'-ter midt gut gemcſºn 2 QSarum paren &ie might goot ge-vaiſ-zen vah'-rºom vah'-'em. zee midt ſeiffig 2 &ft ber 9)?ann reid)? 9tein, er night flyss'ich isst dare mann 7'ych mine err ift armt. §§o iſt bein 380ter jet;t? (£r isst arºm, vo isst dine fah'-terr ſetst air” ift in Şarić. 3ft $ffre 3 pſiſter in isst in paſſ-reess isst eel'e tog//-terr in meinem Sauſe genoeſen 2 QSarum ſimb &ie my'-nem hon'-ze ge-vai'-zen vah'-rum zint cee ſo traurig 2 QSaltm Iparen &ie $liſef;t in zo trøm'-rich vanm vah'-7'en zee tsoo-letst in Qombon 2 ($3 myittbe Öeſſer ſcirt tº cult lonn'donn ess vue,'?'-de bes'-ser Ziné venn ber £mabe bie Sitdyer midſt jätte. §§o dare knah/-be dee bug'-chen might het'-te vo war bieſer &nd be bcm gan;en &ag 3 cahy' dee'-zer Jºnah'-be (lane gan'-26m taach §emu eg midt 3tt ſpät iſt, totro litein wenn ess nicht tsoo spayt isst veerrd mind vºter'7'-de bes'-se,” ge-vai'-zen zine venºn ~4. §reunb baá 3ergmügen baben. (S3 iſt Jº'oind dass fer-gnueſ-gem haſ-ben ess isst nod, frii) genug ; )!orgen mirb eg 3tt noch fºue ge-nooch morrº-gen veerrd ess tsoo fpät, ſein. G3 wire unrefit genoeſen, Spaſt zine ess vain"-re um'-recht ge-vaiſ-zen ben 9tam offme baá (§eſt fort su ſpidem. dane mann oh'-ne dass gelt fort tsoo shi/-ken 3)ie & baſer merpen miſſtommen ſein. (53 dee tahl'-err vain','-den vill-kom/-men zine. ess ift, beffer, menig 311 baben, aſs 311 pieſ. isst besserr vain/-igh tsoo haſ-ben als isoo feel 90tein Śreunb, ſein &ie mir miſſfommen. "nine froind zine zee meer will-kom'-men Safit uné immer ſeiffig ſein. 3iſt bu lasst tons im'-me” flyss'-ich zine bisst doo bieſen ºtorgen in ber ©ffuſe genoeſem? dee'-zen ºnor,”-gen in dare shoo'-le gé-wai'-zen Ştein, id bin midt ba genoeſen. §§arum nine ich bin might da ge-vai'-zen vah'-run mitºf 2 &eiſ itſ in per . Stirtie genoeſen nicht vile ich in dare keerr'-che ge-vay'-zen bin. Rimber, myo ſeib ibr geſtern genoeſen 2 bin kinn'-der vo zeid eer” gest'-ern ge-vai'-zen: Şabt iſ r midt 3iidjer? 3a, moir baben happá cerr night bºté'-cher yah veer” haſ-ber: 35iidjer, aber noir mart:l midt in ber bue'-cher ah/-berr veer, vah'-ren micht in dare ©ffuſe. shoo'-le §§0 myar Sūr SOmfeſ? (ºr ſpar in wo wahr eer,' on.'-kel air” vah) in 2[uſtraſien. §§ać par er bq 2 (§r tour ony-Strah'-lien vass vahr air, da ai)'), ºah), &altfmann. Seát iſt er in Çngſamb unb kony’-mann yetst isst air” in ennſ-glant unt er iſt £ambroirtſ). $)?am fann miſfit airr isst Land!’-veer?'t mamm kann micht aſſed ſein, unb aud) midſt aſſeå Öabem. allº-ess zine unt on:ch micht all-ess haſ-ben. §rtebrid) war geſtern ſeñr ungſtidiſitſ). freed'-rich vah” gess-terrn zai,” ºn-gluek'-Zich (śr mat feſt ungeșorſant geweſen, unb air” vah” zaïr'7' ºn-ge-horſ'-zam ge-vai'-zen unt batte getſän modó ſeſt unreſt mar. (ºr hat'-te ge-tah'n' vass zai,” won'-o'echt vah), air), iſt midt ſeißig. Gr mürbe giffſider isst nicht flyss'-ie/, airr vºte,”-de glue/lich-errº ſein memn er midſt ſo eigenſinnig tuire. zine venºn air” might zo iſ-gen-zim-nich way'-re goer (£igenſinn iſt ein großer §eſſer. dare i'-gen-sinn isst ine gross'-er fail/-/arr Şieſe ſºngben finb eigenſtmuig. Gºet Qut fee'-le knah'-ben zind i'-gem-zin-nich zy doo midt eigenſinnig, , mein timb. 1Infer might iſ-gen-zin-nich mine kinnd un’-zer 9tadjbar Şat bieſeó Sqūr bieſe £irſden, mach'-bar haſ dee'-zes yahr fee-le keer"-shen ºfíaumen, ºſpfel, umb Sirmen ge)abt. pſion'-men ep'-fe! ?(nt beer,'-nen ge-hapt” ©ein Sobſtgartem iſt feſºr fööm. 3)ag Söſt cine ohyst'-garº-ten isst zair" shoem dass ohpst tuittbe beffer genºeſert ſein, twent bag dass *A* GERMAZW. 415 §§etter vet'-terr ©er dare midt ſo faſt getpeſen måre. nicht zo kallt ge-vai'-zen vair'-re Štúšting par bieſeá Šajr ſejr frueh'-ling vahr dee'-zes yahr zair” ſpät. Šm bem £aftem ſimb ºutfaten. spate in dame kass'-ten zint doo-kah'-ten Øer §aſtem iſ ſeñr ſtarf. (ºr iſt pon dare kass'-tén isst zair” stark airr isst fon, (£iſen, umb midt pom poſ;. §§enn bie şſaſſie d'-zen unt nicht for hollts. venn dee flah'-she midt bon (3 ſag genoeſen wäre jötte id) micht fon glass ge-vai'-zen vair'-re het'-te ich ſte moſſ). zee moch, WOCABULARY, POSitive Comp. Superl. 2[ſt, old. äſter ëſteſt allt el'-ter?” el'-test Singular. p Plural. Øqā Şimb, the child. 3Die Äimber dee kinn'-derr hyenig, little. dass kin.ht fſetàig, industrious. flyss'-ich way'-nich gut, good (pronounce pieſ, much. goot the oo as in the feel English “loot"). bie & fffuſe, the school. reid), rich. dee shoo!’-e 7'ych *bie ſtirdje, the church, jet;t, now; anotherword dee keer'-che getst [for jet;t is mum. *ber 8ambwirtſ), the moon dare land'-veert traurig, sad, mournful. farmer (agriculturist). tromy-rich, aſſeå, all, everything. beſſer, better. allº-ess bess'-er" ungſtidſid), unhappy. gan;, whole, entire. wn-glazek’-lich [ent. ſannts ungeșorſant, disobedi- ber ºag, the day. wn'-qe-horn'-zam dare taach, *getſjan, done. ſpät, late. ge-tahn' [nate. Spate * eigenſinnig, obsti- frith, early. d'-gen-zin-mich fºueh ber 9’adjbar, the neigh- genug," enough. ge-mooch' unced)t, wrong. 7/min'-recht offme, without. oh -me [away. * fortſjidiem, to send form't'-shik-ken, *śtíſformitten, welcome. vil-kom/-mem. dare mach'-bahr [bour. bie Rirſtje, the cherry. dee kee,”’’-she bteºfſaltime, the plum. dee ºfton'-me [chard. ber obſtgartem, the or- dare ohpst-garr-ten ſijött, beautiful, shoem OBSERVATIONS. * Remember that g is always hard in German, except in a few words taken from the French, such as búð (Scnic, genius. jane-ee" * fortſöitten, literally to send forth. The Šu (to) is inserted when the infinitive does not stand for the nominative. Thus we say Sermen iſt fºurt, to learn lałrr'-men isst shºcairr is difficult. Here Seclien stands for the nominative; bu (33 iſt föpet it ſerlicit, it is hard to learn, with the ess isst shvatry twoo lairr'men. $u, because terrich is not the nominative. **Bitſtomimen is made up of * I, well, and fommelt, QOl.8 vil-kom'-men O kom'-mem to COD10, --- -º-º-rr - " ":" * From bie ſtirdje we have the Lowland Scotch word “kirk.” * @er birth, in German, is the host or manager. dare veertt Thus per ()iſtrictſ, literally guest manager, is the dare gasst-weerrt innkeeper. Die birthſhaft is the household economy, dee veerrt'-shafft and Sünbmirtàjöäft is farming, or the economy of the land. The farmer who literally bas land for which he pays rent to a landlord is called ter Büditer. “gethin, done, is the past participle from the verb ge/-tahn tſun, to do; id) túue, I do; id) that, I did; thuent, $oon ich too-'e ich taht too’-ent doing, etc. ' eigenſinnig, from eigen, own, and ter &ilin, the mind i’-gem-zin-mich i’-gen dare zinn Or sense: obstinacy consists in an exaggerated holding to One's Own Sense or View. ENGLISH VERSION FOR CORRECTING THE ABOVE STUDY AND FOR RE-TRANSLATION INTO GERMAN. The father is old. The children are indus- trious. Thou hast not been industrious. The man was to-day here. Has the sister not been good? Why were you not industrious? Is the man rich 7 No, he is poor. Where is thy father now 7 He is in Paris. Has your daughter been in my house ? Why are you so sad 7 When were you last in London 7 It would be better if the boy had not the books. Where was this boy the whole day ? If it is not too late, my friend will have the pléasure. It is still early enough ; to-morrow it will be too late. It would have been wrong to send the man away without the money. The dollaps will be welcome. It is better to have little, than too much. My friend, be welcome to me. Let us always be industrious. Hast thou been to (in the) school this morning 7 No, I have not been there. Why not Because I have been at (in the) church. Children, where have you been yesterday? Have you not books? Yes, we have books, but we were not at (in the) school. Where was your uncle 2 He was in Aus- tralia. What was he there 2 He was (a) merchant. Now he is in England, and he is a farmer (an agriculturist). One cannot be everything, and also (one can) not have every- thing. Frederick was yesterday very unhappy. He had been very disobedient, and had done what was very wrong. He is not industrious. He would be happier if he were not so obsti- Žate. Obstinacy is a great fault. Many boys are obstinate. Be not thou obstinate, my child. Our neighbour has this year had many cherries, plums, apples, and pears. . His orchard is very beautiful. The fruit would have been better, if the weather had not been so cold. The spring was this year very late. In the box are ducats. The box is very strong; it (he) is of iron and not of wood. If the bottle had not been of glass, I should have it still. (A good way to use this exercise, after thoroughly studying the German portion, con- sists in endeavouring to translate it back aloud, at Sight, into German, with a friend to check the Sentences by the German text.) TEIE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Šºš § HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES, sº ... • - sº sº - *ś XIII. THE TUDOR PERIOD IN ENGLAND. Henry VII, and Henry VIII. (continued). TowARDs the end of his reign, the king's Tuling passion, avarice, took entire possession - of him. It has been Said of the Benevolences. great but rapacious Marlborough that he would with equal calmness take fifty thousand pounds from a potentate, or a sixpence from the knapsack of a starving soldier ; and Henry's greed for money appears to have been of the same universal nature. He practised 'extortion by the revi- ºval of benevolences, sums raised nominally by free gifts, but really almost compulsory contributions; he “exacted enormous fines for breach of the Tivery laws and similar "regulations, on one occasion condemning *the Earl of Essex to Tay ten thousand pounds for summoning This retainers to do "honour to Henry him- 'self, on the occasion of a royal visit ; and towards the end of his reign his conductillus- trated the old gram- mar axiom, Crescit ..amor mummi, for his we alth and his “COvetousness grew together. In the French war that con- cluded with the treaty of Etaples, he had, as Bacon observes, “made a profit upon his sub- jects for the war, and upon his enemies for the peace”; and in later years the two ministers of his avarice, the lawyers Empson and Dudley, s reduced extortion to a science, £xtortions ºf finding means of oppression in *. * the old and half-obsolete feudal “” laws. Enormous sums were de- imanded for charters of pardon in cases of out- Tawry ; old statutes, long fallen into disuse, were revived and used as weapons for extorting money. Fines of thousands of pounds were inflicted on the most frivolous pretences, and imprisonment was added where immediate “payment was not made. Even the Smallest profits were not beneath the notice of the Tapa- cious king. Bacon tells us that he himself saw an account book of Empson's, with various notes and remarks in the king's handwriting. Among the entries is one in the following *Words : “Item,--Beceived Of Such a One five CARD IN AL WOLSEY. marks for a pardon, which, if it do not pass, the money to be repayed, or the party other. Wise satisfied.” The king had appended to this entry the remark “otherwise satisfied,” so that it would appear that the pardon was not granted, nor the money that had once found its way into the king's clutches “repayed.” To Henry's avarice also was due a measure which was in later times fraught with most important consequences to Eng- land. . For nearly seven years. º: negociations were carried on be- Fº i.llr tween Ferdinand of Spain and Henry, for the marriage of Catharine, the Infanta, with Arthur, the king of England's eldest son. Bacon strongly hints that one reason of the delay was the fact that Warwick, the Son of Clarence, still lived, though in con. finement; and that the unhappy captive was at last sacrificed to the importunity of Ferdinand, who declared that “he SaW no aSSurance Of the succession as long as the Earl of War- wick lived; and that he was loth to send his daughter to troubles and dangers.” Accord- ingly the poor imbe- cile son of “false, fleeting, perjured Clarence” was put out of the way by the axe, and the marriage took place. But the young prince died within a few months. The king had received two hun- dred thousand ducats as the dowry of the Infanta, and it was not in his nature to pay back such a sum. He obtained a dispen- sation from the pope allowing Catharine to marry the brother of her former husband, and he caused his second son, Henry, then only twelve years of age, to be contracted to Prince Arthur's widow. The marriage was carried into effect on the Prince's accession to the throne in 1509. Long afterwards, in her bitter abandonment, the unfortunate Catherine declared, “The divorce is a judgment of God, for that my former mar- riage was made in blood.” Remorseful at times for his extortions, and feebly endeavouring to atome for his injustice and rapacity, by the foundation of religious houses, and by de- voting part of the spoil to chari- table purposes, the king, who had for some years been in ill health, at last succumbed to consumption, in the fifty-second year of his age, and the twenty-fourth of a harsh and stern, but not unprosperous or ignoble reign. Henry VIII. came to the throne with almost everything in his favour. He succeeded to a kingdom in which peace and prosperity Death of Henry, his character. IIISTORY OF MOD ERAW TIMES. 417 had come after a long period of conflict and Henry VIII misrule. He inherited in coined ... money such a treasure as no (1509–1547.) ". king of England had ever pos- sessed. Uniting in his person, by descent from York and Lancaster, the claims of the rival houses, he was free from the fear of faction and Conspiracy—that “black care’’ that had ridden Nations, like behind So many English kings. and to the last we should detect some remains of that open and noble temper which endeared him to a people whom he oppressed, struggling with the hardness of despotism and the irrita- bility of disease.” Never was there, apparently, a greater contrast than between the jovial free- hearted monarch who masqueraded at the “Field of the Cloth of Gold,” and the capricious tyrant, with the temper of a tiger, whose # Wiśīllūyīl “ . . " " 'S º 3. . " ; , ãº: ;|º. ºiſºlº. §§ ºf *::::::ſ lºº ºr. I aſ .'i. Žº IPSWICEI. families, give a large credit in the future to the young; and England hailed with delight the accession of the handsome, stalwart stripling, full of the vigour and joyousness of life, liberal to profusion, fond of the pomp and circumstance of sovereignty, the “bluff King Hal,” whose out-spoken frankness @ontrasted as favourably with the dry caution of his father as did his open-handed generosity with Henry VII.'s miserly greed. Macaulay, in his admirable º : essay on History, speaks of the historian who 3. could give a life-like picture of Henry's this king's remarkable reign. character. .. Henry would be painted,” he says, “with the skill of Tacitus. We should have the change of the character, from his pro- fuse and joyous youth to his Savage and im: perious old age. We should perceive the gradual progress of selfish and tyrannical passions in a mind not naturally insensible or ungenerous; VOL. I. failing hand, relentless in death, impressed the fatal signature on the death-warrants of Surrey and Norfolk; although the second character was developed from the first as the natural effect of a long course of unquestioned power, and of a reign on a throne surrounded by flatterers, And yet it was the fate of this king, himself the most imperious and despotic of men, to initiate in England the movement that was to liberate the nation from the greatest system, of spiritual power the world has seen; for with Henry VIII. the Reformation began in England, from the day when the imperious. king, for his own selfish purposes, denied the Supremacy of Rome. Soon after Henry's accession, the league which had bound together the confederates of Cambray against the Venetian republic was. dissolved, and gave place to the Holy League, organized by Pope Julius II, with the frivolous, ~ 27 418 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Maximilian of Germany and the astute and cunning Ferdinand the Catholic º: of Spain. Louis XII. of France UIS , 'S “Holy i.e. had deeply offended the Roman pontiff by his assertion of power in Italy, which country the pope wished to free from all foreign domination ; and he widened the breach with the papacy by calling a council at Pisa with the avowed intention of effecting reforms in the Church, to the detriment of the pope's power. Julius was naturally anxious to secure the aid of the wealthy and powerful king of England; and Henry, young, ardent, and thirsting for military glory, was easily propitiated by the flattering advances of Julius. By holding out to him the prospect of the title of “Most Christian King,” till then given to the kings of France, Julius induced Henry to join the League, and to declare war against France. The English, who looked upon the French as their matural enemies, were glad at the prospect of a fight, and Parliament voted liberal supplies. Ferdinand War with of Aragon, a veteran in statecraft, .." turned Henry's martial ardour to his own advantage. He craftily induced the English king to send ten thousand men to the south of France, ostensibly to con- quer Guienne, but in reality to occupy the attention of the French army while his general, the Duke of Alva, was conquering Navarre for Spain. Henry did not learn, till too late, how he had been duped by his treacherous ally. The army, discouraged by ill success and thinned by sickness, mutinied, and demanded to be taken back to England; and the doubtful naval victory gained off Brest by Sir Thomas Knevet at the price of the destruction of the Ičegent, the King's largest ship, was but a small Consolation for the utter failure of the cam- paign on land. The campaign of 1513 was more fortunate. Henry carried an army of twenty-five thousand Battle of men into France, won the battle Guinegate or of Guinegate, known as the “The Spurs,” “Battle of the Spurs,” and took Aug. 16, 1513, Terouenne and Tournay; while in Scotland the old quarrel between the two countries was rekindled by the capture at sea of the vessel of the famous Scottish rover, Sir Andrew Barton, and the slaying of that redoubtable chief himself by Lord and Sir Edward Howard. James IV., though he had married Henry's sister Margaret, led a large army across the border into Northumberland, after various depredations had been committed by both sides. On September 9th, on the fatal field of Flodden, the Scots were direfully de- feated, with the loss of their king, their chief nobility, and five thousand men. The com- mander of the English forces, the Earl of Surrey, was for this victory restored to the dukedom of Norfolk, forfeited by his father, Shakespeare's “Jockey of Norfolk,” who fell at Bosworth field fighting for Richard III. It was many years before Scotland recovered from the effects of this crushing blow. Henry was now convinced that he had been duped, both by Ferdinand of Spain and Maxi- milian of Germany, who, having used his Oct. 1511. —s alliance for their own purposes, now abandoned it. In high indignation, he made The two peace with France, and cemented marriages of the union by the marriage of his Mary, Henry's sister Mary, a beautiful girl of sister, sixteen, to King Louis of France, who was fifty-three. Louis died within a few months of the marriage; and Mary, who plainly in- formed her imperious brother that, having married once to please him, she would, on the next occasion, marry to please herself, gave her hand privately to the handsome and gallant Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, King Henry's favourite, to whom she had been attached before her French marriage. Francis, Count of Angoulême, who had succeeded Louis XII. on the French throne, encouraged Suffolk in this proceeding, and undertook to obtain the king of England's pardon; which he did after a short interval—if, indeed, Henry had not been privy to the whole proceeding from the beginning. Thus did a dowager queen wed a subject ; or, as it was expressed by the fortu- nate husband, “cloth of gold was matched with cloth of frieze.” The proverbial danger attending such matches was illustrated long afterwards, in the sad events following the miserable conspiracy to place Lady Jane Grey, the grand-daughter of Brandon and Mary, on the throne of England. By this time the counsels of Henry were already swayed, to the exclusion of all com- petitors, by that remarkable man, whose eleva- tion and disgrace Johnson has aptly chosen to illustrate the career of the courtier. .. in his “Vanity of Human Wishes. º Never was a courtier's career - g more brilliant than that of Thomas Cardinal Wolsey; never was a favourite's fall more disastrously complete. During a long period of Henry's reign the influence of Wolsey was para- mount; and his power over the hot-headed imperious king was the greater for the consum- mate art with which he appeared to follow when in reality he led—to carry out the measures which in reality he had suggested. The great cardinal was the son of an opulent burgess of Ipswich. His enemies asserted that the elder Wolsey was a butcher by trade; but this hardly accords with his undoubted wealth. Educated for the Church, Wolsey became chaplaim to Henry VII., whom he served well and promptly in an important state matter; afterwards he was recommended to Henry VIII. by Fox, bishop of Winchester. He quickly won the favour of the young king. From being a companion of Henry's pleasures, Wolsey was gradually promoted to be, first his confi- dant and adviser, and afterwards his sole and irresponsible minister. Wolsey's pride and arrogance grew with his fortunes ; he became the greatest subject in England, the most profuse, and the most rapacious. From the King he first received the bishopric of Lincoln, and then was made Archbishop of York; by arrangement with the bishops of Bath, Wor- cester, and Hereford, who were Italians residing abroad, he enjoyed the greater part of the revenues of those sees;–he was allowed to hold first the See of Durham, and afterwards BOTAATP. 419 that of Winchester, in addition to his own ; and had many sources of revenue besides. According to his pretension was the state he kept in the eyes of the world : eight hundred persons, including many knights and gentle- men, composed his retinue. In his palaces the Ceremonies of a regal court were observed. Indeed, when he built Hampton Court Palace many Comparisons were made between the minister's place of abode and his master's, to the disadvantage of the latter. “The King's house,” wrote a satirist, “should have the excel- lence. ... But Hampton Court hath the preemi- nence.” Ever ranking himself with princes, Wolsey wished to accustom the eyes of the people to his magnificence. When the Pope had created him a cardinal, and the King had entrusted to him the great seal, his power Seemed to have reached its zenith. He seemed to concentrate in himself the government of England. As Johnson graphically puts it :- “To him the church, the realm, their powers consign, Through him the rays of regal bounty shine. Turned by his nod, the stream of honour flows; His smile alone security bestows; Still to new heights his restless wishes tower, Claim leads to claim, and power advances power.” XIV. ELEMENTS OF THE FLOWER (continued). VERY many plants do not develop petals. The calyx is then usually green and incon- spicuous, and being the only “floral envelope ’’ present, the perianth is said to be “single.” But most interesting is it to note how strenuously, when petals are absent, nature again remembers to give compensation In the entire group of delightful shrubs and small trees which includes the meZereon and the Pimeleas, the calyx is rendered as lovely as any corolla can be ; and the same is the case in many of the apetalous Ranunculaceae. The clematis, the anemone, £he marsh-marigold, are all totally destitute of petals. To compensate the want, the sepals excel in beauty hundreds and thousands of corollas. It would be difficult to find, among the very richest even of roses, a crimson velvet more choice than that of the Anemone Coro- ovaria ; or among purple petals, anything to match the calyx of the Japanese clematis. These glorified sepals have the additional pre- rogative of being far more substantial and enduring than genuine petals—a fact worthy of remembrance by those who desire to con- struct bouquets that shall not disappointingly fall to pieces before the day is over. That many flowers are deficient in corolla was very soon observed when botanists began Monochlamydeae their labours. . The determina- and tion of the fact in question gave Dichlamydeae, rise to the earliest classification of the families constituting the exogenous Calyx only, section of flowering plants. This was into Dichlamydeae, literally “two jackets”; Mono- chlamydeae, literally “one jacket ’’; and Achla- mydeae, “no jacket.” The Dichlamydeae, in other words, comprised the families having flowers with both calyx and corolla ; the Monochlamydeae, those with a calyx only ; and the Achlamydeae, those in which the stamens and pistils are protected merely by bracts: all the Amentiferae, to wit. Theoretically, with a view to the marshalling of plants and the grouping them in systematic order, the dis- tinction is most inviting. Nothing would seem more eligible as a first principle, and were plants not so wayward it might be invaluable, but in practice it continually breaks down. Monochlamydeous flowers, and even achlamy- deous ones, taking the word literally, constantly occur in orders which in the mass are con- spicuously dichlamy deous. What more remote, for instance, than the achlamydeous ash-tree from the lilac Among the Monochlamyds there is a corresponding disposition, every now and then, to rise to the higher condition. No system can possibly be framed that shall not be constantly troubled with exceptions. In no scheme, however, though so plausible in appearance, do they crop up more frequently than in the one which looks first at the non- essential calyx and corolla. The specific purpose of the calyx being to protect the petals while unexpanded, it very generally withers, and often º drops off, as soon as the flowering Durº of the is pretty well advanced. When yx, it falls early, it is said to be “caducous”; when it remains, it is “persistent.” A striking in- stance of persistency occurs in the strawberry. Other examples are met with in various species of the Solanaceae, and in these it is not enly persistent, but “accrescent,” enlarging up till the period of the maturation of the fruit. Colour also is acquired in the Solanaceous Alkekengi; the unattractive green cup of July becoming by September a scarlet bag. Why so Yes—why so These are the questions by which in the study of mature we are con- stantly thrown back upon the sense of how little it is possible, after all, for man to find out. In the presence of such phenome na, baffled hopelessly in the attempt to explain, how sweet the solace of the thought that they declare the handiwork of God, who “ hath created all things for His pleasure,” the alke- kengi doubtless holding its place in the grand scheme of mature collectively, for as good and profound a reason as the oak and the palm. Just as the calyx is constituted of sepals, so the corolla is composed of “ petals.” Very often, as in the wall- hºr and the buttercup, these The 9°rºll” parts are “free *; in other flowers they are more or less united from the base upwards, The minimum of cohesion is seen in the common yellow loosestrife, and the maximum in the convolvulus. The unconnected portions, when the petals are only partly united, are called the “lobes,” and a flower is said to be three- lobed, four-lobed, or five-lobed, according to their number. The early botanists looked upon 420 -. TEIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. corollas of the latter kºshd as “monopetalous,” or formed of only one petal. It is now well known that there is no such thing in nature as a monopetalous flower ; but the term is retained and still employed, being a very convenient one to use as the contrary of “petals free.” Although a flower constituted of a solitary petal does not exist, there is no difficulty in finding a “ dipetalous” one. There are in- numerable examples of the “tripetalous”; also of the occurrence of four and five petals; and a few occur in which we may count six, the purple Lythrum of the waterside supplying a ready instance. A higher number is un- usual, except in “double flowers,” or those which under the influence of cultivation acquire the character ordinarily observable in garden roses and camellias, in which the petals are multiplied indefinitely. The “double '’ Con- dition is acquired also at times by wildflowers in the fields, probably as the Tesult of Some powerful stimulus in the soil. Individual species and genera of j show remarkable aptitude for becoming “d Oub le.” In the entire scope of many large families, on the other hand, double flowers are quite un- known. It may be well to Observe here that the rays of such flowers as the daisy are not to be taken as examples of numerous petals. The structure of the daisy and all of its family is peculiar, and will be described particularly in due time. When the petals are all of the same size and shape, if, indeed, they are of two sizes and shapes, an equal num- ... ber of cach, and symmetricall *** **i. disposed,—the ºw. must º regular corollas. 2 present the appearance termed “regular.” A pleasing way to make sure is to revolve it between the finger and thumb, and observe that whatever portion is upper- most, the figure is always precisely the same —a cross, a star, or a Ting-like outline. The yarieties of the regular corolla are necessarily but few, and these all have special appella- tions. When fashioned as in the white garden Arabis, or “mountain-snow " of March and April, it is “cruciform "; when as in the strawberry and buttercup, “rosaceous”; when as in the convolvulus, “campanulate.” Once, however, that regularity is departed from, there is no end to the quaint diver- sity: names, accordingly, for all but a very FIG. 64.—ANEMONE CORONARIA. —y few of the irregular, are out of the question. The most remarkable are the “papilionaceous,” exemplified in the common pea, and almost universal in the Leguminosae, though with very singular modifications; the “labiate,” well shown in the flower of the Salvia ; and the “personate,” well illustrated in the Snap- dragon. Irregular corollas, which defy at- tempts at nomenclature, are seen in the pansy, the masturtium, aconite, larkspurs, and the entire order Orchidaceae. Whether regular or irregular, the particular number of petals entering into the composition of a corolla is, in practical Botany, e a matter of considerable import. Wººl ance. Three arithmetical for- types, mulae cover almost every modification ; and everything exceptional is plainly so through deficiency or abortion. In Exogens, the rule is that there shall be either five petals, or four; in Endogens, the prescribed number is three ; and when there is a change of number this consists usually in a simple doubling of the primary—three becoming six, four be- } coming eight, and SO 9 Son. Flowers with five or ten petals are said to be “pentamerous ” (fig. 67); those with four or eight are “tetramerous.” (fig. 66); and those with three, six, or nine arc “trimerous ” (fig. 65). The additional term. “d i m erous ” is em- ployed to denote the presence of only two petals, a rare condition found in the elegant little sylvan wildflower called Circaea. The number of the sepals usually accords with that of the petals, in which case the perianth is said to be “Sym- metrical,” the condition found in the cruci- ferous plants (fig. 71). When, as occasionally happens, the calyx and corollaconsist of different numbers of pieces, the flower is “unsymme- trical.” Before expansion, the petals are compactly laid together, the way differing in different plants, but always being the same AEstivation, in any given species. The leaves set the example, but the mode of their folding: termed the “vernation,” usually follows Some type which the corolla does not care to imitate. The folding of the petals, called the “aestiva: tion,” is thus, by comparison, new and original in kind, and is often exceedingly pretty and curious. Now and then, as in poppies, the unexpanded petals are simply crumpled up ; 42] BOTA WY. FIG. 68. MION OPETALO US COROLLA. FIG. 67. PENTAAIEROUS COBOLLA. FIG. 65. TRIMERO US COROLLA. sº §ſº 'u !, \ \ | \ M', tº º 2. º f º/, | | TETRAMEROUS COROLLA. FIG. 69. IABIATE COROLLAs NASTURTIUM. FIG. 73. PXENTAXll. R O US COROLLA, . FIG. 72. CAMPAN ULATE. FIG. 76. PAPILION.ACEOUS COROLLA, YIG, 75. CONVOLVUILUS, l, 1G. 74. SNAPDRAGON, 422 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. and hence, even when the flower is at its per- fect stage of development, they are still covered with minute wrinkles. In the mallow family the petals are spirally twisted before expansion. In many plants they are laid together in such a way that the edges alternately overlap ; the aestivation is thea said to be “imbricated ‘’; and this, in turn, is exchanged by others for the “valvate,” which term signifies that the margins simply touch one another, without Overlapping, the unopened bud presenting lines which often exactly resemble the meridians of a globe. Not unfrequently the aestivation of the sepals and petals is different ; and in any case the particular mode of folding supplies excellent characters for employment in classi- fication. The colour of the petals is their most beauti- ful and alluring attribute, and like the hues of ºğ §§§ ºš NY §§ Bºlº Jilliſſ III * §3. §º ZºS § º &AºA *mº. §§§ *śº #ºsº YZ2-ºši-É##sºft- s *... : : {& º § gº - F= - % N Sº § & YIII. Practical Application. (1) VOCABULARY VIII. Commerces et Métiers se rapportant à l’Ha- billement. (Thades connected with Dress.) 1. Name of the tradesman. 2. Tradesman's wife, or female trader. 3. Name of Trade. 4. Leading arti- cles (sp 6 cialités). 1. bonnetier, hosier ; 2. bonnetière; 3. la bonneterie ; 4. le calegon, dramer; la camisole, jersey; le bonnet, cap ; le bas, stocking ; la chaussette, sock; et autres objets de tricot, Colours of all other * = -sº " - and other knitted goods. petals, natural * Aſºº º § -.Y.: 1. bottier, cordonnier, * jects, abso- ſº zºº, º & boot and shoemaker; 2. lutely inscrutable. It is @$ ºś § cordonnière ; 3. la cor- all very well to say that Mº Sºğ § donnerie ; 4. la botte, the cheerful green of the Sºś top-boot : le brodequin, foliage of plants comes § § {** laced boot; la bottine, of the presence of “chlo- § boot; le soulier, shoe; rophyll”; that roses are un escarpin, pump ; la red because of their pantouſle, slipper, et “ erythrophyll”; and that autres chaussures, and yellow petals are yellow other articles of foot ovean. because they contain 1. chapelier, hatter; “xanthophyll.” When all 2. chapelière ; 3. la cha- has been affirmed, we are still not a hair's breadth nearer,since “chlorophyll” simply means “green colouring matter,” and “ erythrophyll” and “xanthophyll” red and yellow colouring matter, though, possibly enough, some slight chemical dif- ference may be discover- able in the composition. Professor Schnetzler con- tends that there is in the entire plant only one colorific matter. He adds that when the colouring matter of a flower has been isolated, by putting it in spirits of wine, we may, by adding an acid or an alkaline substance, obtain any colour which plants present. White flowers owe their cha- racter to the air contained in the cells of the petals. On placing them under the receiver of an air-pump, they become transparent as the air is withdrawn. The Professor has not proved his theory. The colour of flowers is one of those grand and original phenomena of nature which we must be content to regard as an illustration of the power of Him “whose breath perfumes them, and whose pencil paints; ” trusting, nevertheless, that a time may come when mankind, growing more moral, may thus qualify themselves to be recipients of profounder and sweeter disclosures, for it is most assuredly true that not only in ethics but in science, “unto the upright there ariseth light in darkness.” FIG. 77.—Poppy. pellerie ; 4. le chapeau, hat; la casquette, cap with snout ; la calotte, smoking-cap ; feutre, felt hat; et autres coiffures, and other articles of head- (ſea?". 1. chemisier, shººt- make”, 2. chemisière : 3. ; 4. la chemise, shirt : la cravate, tie ; la manchette, cuff; le col, colla d', le mouchoir, pocket-handkerchief. 1. gantier, glover ; 2. gantière ; 3. la ganterie; 4. le gant, glove ; la mitaine, mitten ; des gants de fil, des gants de coton, des gants de Soie, des gants de peau, thread, cotton, silk, kid, gloves. 1. mercier, merce? § 2. mercière ; 3. la mer- cerie ; 4. le ruban de fil, tape ; le fil, thread; une aiguille, needle ; une épingle, pin , une agrafe, clasp (agrafes et portes, hooks and eyes); le dé, the thimble. 1. linger, linen-draper, 2. lingére; 3. la lingerie; 4. le linge de corps, body linen, le linge de table, table do. ; le linge de lit, bed do., le linge de cuisine, kitchen do. 1. pelletier, fourreur, furrier ; 2. pelletière ; 3. pelleterie : 4. les fourrures (f) et les peaux (f), fun's and skins. 1. tailleur, tailor ; 2. tailleuse ; 3. l'indus- trie du tailleur ; 4. habits sur mesure, clothes to measure ; confections, ready-made clothes; un pardessus, paletot, or surtout, topcoat ; une redingote, frock-coat ; un habit, dress-coat ; * FR ENCFI GRAMMA.R. 423 un gilet, west or naistcoat; une veste, jacket; un pantalon, trousers ; et autres vétements ou Pluperfect. j'avais Tété, I had been, I'vture Anterior. j'aurai été, I shall have habits, and other articles of dress or clothes. Various (divers): la blanchisseuse, laundress; la brodeuse, embroiderer; la couturière, dress- maker ; la dentellière, milliner, le fripier, clothes, etc. !ace-maker ; la modiste, dealer in second-hand le marchand de nouveautés, draper; le 35 de drap, clothier ; le 3? le 3 * de Soieries, silk-mercer; de dentelles, lace daaler; la marchande de modes, milliner , la 53 la toilette, harvko) of female dress goods, etc. Note. — Although general dealers and mercers are pretty numerous in France, some trades, as bonnetiers, antiers, chemisters, etc., are more strictly defined and imited than in Great Britain. (2) Compound tenses of Avoir, to have :— IPast Infinitive—avoirſ eu, to have had. I’ast Participle—ayant Teu, having had. INDICATIVE. Perfect Indefinite. j'ai eu, I have had, etc. tu asTeu il a eu mous'Tavons'Teu vous Tayez^eu ilS^Ont. Teu Pluperfect. javais'Teu, I had had, tu avais'Teu [etc. tu aurasTeu [had, etc. il auraitſ eu il aura eu nousſavions/Teu Inous Taurons(Teu yousºaviezºeu vous Taurez Teu ils'Tavaient eu ils auront/Teu CONDITIONAL. Past. K- Other Form. k- j'auraisºeu g; j'eusse eu §§ tu auraisTeu s: tu eusses eu § auraitſ eu il eſt/Teu iſ allºt. Tº s *..…s-2, § nous Nautions' eu ş nous eussions' ºeus yous aurieſ, eu ; Yºus eussº eu ş ils/Tauraientſ Yeu º ilSTeussent Tell & SUBJ UNCTIVE. Perfect Definite. s. Pluperfect. § que j'aie eu a s que Jeusse eu a 5. que tu aiesTeu ş Si que tu eussesTeu ş Ş. 5 : T ~ : +/-, Š 'il etltſ"> s's qu'il aitſ eu __3 qu il e CUl ‘s. que nous- ayons Teus, quenous Teussions eu ; que vous-Sayez-Neus que vous Teussiez^eu ş qu'ils aient/Teu § qu'ilsºeussent-eu ş. 3. S. Perfect Anferior. j'eus'Teu, I had had, tu eus'Teu [etc. il eut/Teu nous(TetumesTeu YouS^etites'Teu ilsſºeurent/Teu Future Anterior. j'aurai eu, I shall have (3) Compound tenses of Etre, to be :— Past Infinitive : avoirTété, to have been. Past Participle : ayant.Tété, having been. INDICATIVE. Perfect Indefinite. j'ai été, I have been, tu as Tété [etc. il a 6té mous Tavons'Tété vous:Tavoz/TNété ilS^Ont, Tóté Perfect Anterior. j'ous Téte, I had been, tºll Ousſ &tó [etc. il out Tětó nous/TofumesTSété Vous"TNo (\teSTN (Sté ilSTYourentTété tu avaisſété [etc. tu aurasTété [been, etc. il avait(T\été il aura été nous/Tavions"Tété nous Taurons/TNété VOusſaviez/Tété vous Taurez/TNété ils/Tavaient/Teté ils auront/Teté CONDITIONAL. Past. Other Iform, hº j'auraisTété o º, i.eussereté § tu auraisſété š s tu eusses Tété 2 #. il aurait/Teté & il efitºeté 5 §: nous Taurions/Teté à nous">eussions.Tété š vous" auriezºáté š vousſeussiezºáté š ilsº auraientTété š ils">eussentTété § SUIBJUNCTIVE. Perfect Definite. §§ Pluperfect. §§ que j'aie été * 5 que j'eusse été $ S. tu aies"Tété 3 º' tu eusses Tété #s il aitſ 6té : il eatſeté Š nous Tayonsºétés. nous Teussions'Tété st Yousſayezºáté à vous Teussiez^été š ilST'aient/Tété ils'TeussentTété Remarks. –1. The second form of the Past Conditional can in all cases be substituted for the first ; but there are a few cases, to which reference will be made in the Syntax, where the first cannot be substituted for the second. The second form is used by the educated only, and is often avoided by them from fear of affectation. 2. The negative and interrogative are formed in compound tenses in the same way as in simple tenses, but the past participle comes always last : je m'ai pas eu, il m'a jamais été, a-t-il eu ? m'a-t-elle pas àté? etc. EXERCISE XXII. Write, firstly in the feminine singular, and secondly in the masculine plural, the folloning masculine singular adjectives :- Rond, round; regu,” received ; sage, nºise ; fier, proud; neuf, men ; ambigu, ambiguous ; généreux, generous ; cruel, cruel ; pareil, simi- lar ; chrétien, christian ; mignon, small and pretty; net, clean ; frit, frica, grand, large ; large, broad; poivré, peppered; profond, deep : cher, dear; joli, pretty; exigu, narron: ; pris, taken ; cassé, broken, jeune, young ; actif, active, affreux, fearful : doux, sn'eet ; actuel, actual ; sujet, prome, gras, fat; confus, con- fused ; prét, ready : Sot, silly, gris, grey; brun, bronºn rouge, red ; vert, green : jaune, yellon: ; bleu, blue; secret, secret; profés, pro- fessed; bref, short ; sucré, sugared ; tranger, foreign : juif, Jenish ; léger, light : paisible, peaceful : contigu, contiguous; pâle, pale; langoureux, languishing; faux, false; heureux, happy; mauvais, bad, inquiet, restless : las, tired : épris, smitten coquet, coquettish : fri- pon, roguish ; noirâtre, blackish ; patricien, patrician ; autrichien, Austrian ; français, French : russe, Russian ; polonais, Polish ; italien, Italian ; digne, northy; premier, first : sempiternel, everlasting ; suspect, suspicious ; épineux, thorny; perdu, lost ; dernier, last : blond, fair : incomplet, incomplete ; espagnol, Spanish ; irlandais, Irish ; bas, lon: ; ponctuel, punctual ; plat, flat, titré, titled : usé, worn ; princier, princely ; maturel, natural ; beau, beautiful : mou, soft. * Past participles used singly or in connection with the verb étre, are treated like adjectives. THE UNIVERSAI, INSTRUCTOR. C A R B O N. THIS highly important element enters into an infinite variety of combinations. Adopting the term organic (for whose use, however, no very Togical plea can be set up, as there is no real distinction between the compounds that are held to belong respectively to the organic and inorganic series, but adopting the term in its conventional Sense), all the carbon compounds may be regarded as organic. In point of fact, that which is known as organic cº, chemistry is, in reality, a history of the various combinations into which this ele- ſment enters with others. All or- ganised structures, the bodies of all animals and plants, contain this sub- stance. It enters into the food we eat, the fuel we consume, and the gas that lights our streets and dwell- ings. Lamp-black, or charcoal, is car- bon in form more or less pure. In a state of na- ture this element is met with free and uncombined in two allotropic conditions: as graphite or black lead, and as the diamond. The term black lead, as applied to graphite, is some- e what misleading, inducing a be- Allºpiº fºrms lief that it is some compound of of carbon, - - : A. J. the metal lead, whereas it is pure carbon. This substance, which is used in the manufacture of drawing pencils, and also to impart a polished surface to the grains of gunpowder, is found at Borrowdale in Cum- 'berland, in Siberia, and various other localities. It has a tendency to crystallize in hexagonal plates, having no relation whatever to the form which carbon assumes in the diamond. On account of its infusibility, the larger kind of crucibles or smelting pots are made of e raphite, or, as it is often termed, The diamond, †. The diamond, the most beautiful of all gems, and hardest of 'known substances, is carbon in the crystalline form, belonging to what is known as the cubical system. It is found, as is well known, in certain sedimentary rocks and drift formations in India, Africa, Brazil, and other parts of the CARRE'S FREEZING MACHINE. —s world. Its extreme hardness, rendering it peculiarly capable of resisting friction, has led to its employment in watchmaking, in the manufacture of graving and boring tools, in glass cutting, and lastly, in the cutting and polishing of the diamond itself. The industry of diamond cutting is chiefly carried on at Amsterdam, in Holland. By this process the size of the stone is considerably diminished, but its wonderful power of refracting light is greatly increased. In the eyes of the Indian con- noisseur, however, the entire operation is a barbarous one. He considers that the real beauty of the stone can be best appre- ciated in the natural state, untouched by the hand of man. The specific gravity of the diamond is about three and a half times that of water. That the diamond is pure carbon can readily be demonstrated by burning it in oxy- gen, when it is entirely converted into carbon dioxide, or car- bonic acid gas. To the question as to how diamonds were produced naturally, no satis- factory answer can be given. Carbon we know to be the most infusible of substances, and yet we have good reasons for sup- posing that dia- monds were not produced at a high temperature. The production of dia- monds by artificial means will pro- bably long con- tinue to engage the attention and baffle the ingenuity of Imall. The carbon which exists in all vegetal structures, if set free from the different elements with which it is bound up, is the substance known as charcoal. This decomposition is effected by a process of partial combustion. Diamond cutting. The wood it is intended to convert into char- coal is exposed to the action of heat in a closed vessel from which the air is excluded. By this method the more volatile portions of the wood are driven off in the form of gas, one of the compounds thus obtained being the antiseptic known as pyroligneous acid, or wood vinegar. That which remains is a black brittle substance many degrees lighter than wood, but retaining the exact form and physical structure of that substance. The operation as conducted by those who follow the vocation of charcoal burners in the woods is very simple. The wood it is intended to carbonize 9harcºal burn- is stacked in a heap, the Ing, whole being covered with turf and earth Conversion of wood into carbon, CHEMISTRY. 425 to exclude the air, with the exception of a Small quantity which is allowed to enter through openings at the bottom to support a slow combustion. A portion of the wood in the interior of the stack is actually burnt, and the heat developed by this combustion is sufficient to effect the conversion of the rest into char- coal. Before the completion of the process, openings are made from time to time in the carthy covering, to allow of the escape of the water vapour and volatile gases generated by the decomposition of the wood. Almost the whole of the charcoal, employed on the Contiment for Culinary and other pur- poses, is prepared in this manner. It burns, in atmospheric air, with the evolution of great heat, but without smoke or flame, the results being, of course, the formation of carbon dioxide or Carbonic acid. Although admi- Tably adapted for the purposes of cookery, it should only be used in stoves, intended for warming purposes, where the draught is suf- ficient to carry off the proceeds of combustion. Especially dangerous is the practice of in- troducing a brazier of burning charcoal into sleeping apart- ments, as is often done, in cold winter weather, incon- tinental coun- tries. Sufficient > & Gº S. Jſ º $ º - 㺠§ §ſº jº'A' > 4 O}º 4; § §§ 'NN\ E; º - º º rººts ºº::$S. - zºº S$42: ºlºtº-erºtºtº 2׺ss: zºº º MERCANTILE LIFE. IV. III. COURSES OF CONDUCT TO BE AVOIDED. THERE are many things and many kinds ºf character to be avoided in mercantile affairs, which cannot be made the subject of a brief paper. They present themselves in such Protean shapes, that experience is the best teacher both of the men and things, and more will be learned on this fertile topic from the conversation of the older class of merchants than could be conveyed in any number of essays. But there are some general landmarks not unworthy of being briefly traced. 1. The “ Haste to be Rich.” This natural foible may become a passion in some, and as a passion it is sure to tempt or betray its victims into impolitic, if not ruinous, proceedings. It is to be observed that there may be a haste to be rich in reality, and a haste to seem rich only. These differ considerably in their character and modes, but they are mostly offshoots of the same root ; and it is a curious instance of the infinite self-deception of human nature, that some men when they cannot attain, or have not attained riches, are content to seem rich, and to luxuriate in the outward show of wealth. Generally speaking, when a merchant gives way to this worse than weakness, his object is the same as his who hastes to be rich in reality, and who, as one means to this end, may live in a saving or even penurious style. The former has the idea that seeming to be rich will have the effect of bringing real riches to him, and that the Ostentation of wealth has, in some mysterious fashion, the power of working out the substance, of which it is the shadow. To some extent this may hold good; for the world itself, there can be no doubt, is very foolish on this point, and is apt enough to be imposed upon for a time by a crafty and well-planned pretence. But it is a dangerous course on which to enter. If a man strives to appear to be living at a rate above what he has to spend, he makes his life uncomfortable, loses his ease of carriage, and impairs his proper art of business. If he is living above his income, he is digging his own ruin; so far from drawing riches to him, he is TIIE FRIEVE) I, Y COUNSET, L, OR. 42? driving them away from him, and preparing poverty and bankruptcy. The saying of the ancients was,” We are not to judge of a man's happiness till after his death,”—so a merchant, of whatever high standing or great wealth he may deem himself, should never be extravagant, or act in any spendthrift way, as long as he Temains in business and stands exposed to the vicissitudes and Teverses of trade. Merchants usually estimate very near the mark each other's capital, amount of business, dependence on bank advances or irregular bills, as well as profits and losses. It is impossible to deceive one's fellow-merchants long on these points, and any attempt to brave it over them by high living and outward splendour is sure to be followed by loss of credit : so that this Ostentation of a wealth which is not may be pronounced one of the quickest roads to com- mercial ruin. As for those who haste to be rich in reality, it may be with them either a proud ambition or avaricious greed, and may consequently be consistent with the practice of severe economy and frugality. But the “haste to be rich * has its dangers in the one case as in the other. Without speaking of its falling into fraud, dishonesty, and extortion, which it is apt to do, two courses frequently adopted may here be adduced. First, to increase the amount of business done. As the rate of profit cannot be much increased at any given period in free markets, the next means of making rich in haste is greatly to increase the quantity of commodities handled. There is what is called a quick turn- over of goods, which is highly profitable. If a merchant can sell a certain quantity of goods every month at a met profit of 2% per cent., he will have a return of 30 per cent. per annum on his capital, minus the interest he has had to pay on credit received, or lost on credit given. But to increase the quantity of commodities turned over in a month or a year is a different thing, and one that often defeats its object in the attempt. If this haste to be rich is a very strong passion among a few, or a very general passion among merchants, their increased pur- chases will have tended to increase the cost of the goods to them, while their increased sup- plies will have tended to decrease the value of the goods in the markets where they have to be sold. So far from the profits of the merchants being increased, their margin of profit may be almost wholly swept away. It is this form of haste to be rich which produces what are called “gluts of markets; ” and it is this action of merchants, without due study and measure of the capacity of markets, and not knowing how many may be doing and over-doing the same thing, which brings about the dreaded and periodically recurring phenomenon--a “com- mercial crisis.” Secondly, when merchants hasty to be rich fail in their object by increasing the quan- tity of commoditics passing through their hands, they are sometimes tempted to grasp at large profits in exceptional and doubtful adventures, to the neglect of the usual and steady course of the business to which they are best accustomed. Such opportunities arise in the case of every merchant, and it is not always illegitimate to try them. It is a venture of their capital, and merchants must sometimes adventure if they would win. Nay, merchants must always be on the outlook for their larger profit; for it is there where their service is not only best rewarded, but where it is also most needed. The danger lies rather in the want of sure information of the adventure, than in the principle of adventure itself; and it is always unwise to forego a small but sure profit in the hunt after a more lucrative but uncer- tain Tesult. As there is such a thing as the rise of indi- vidual prosperity, almost without effort, with the rise of the country, and in times of much progress this rise may even be rapid, so a merchant is never more secure than when his prosperity springs from the matural expansion of the markets in which his business has chiefly lain, and in respect to which he has all his stores of information and experience. It almost follows from this remark to add, though it might form another topic under the head of “want of method,” that the habit of some merchants to send their goods hither and thither with ill assortment, and without study of either times or places, always on a venture. is an unfortunate one. There can be little hope of profit or success, unless merchants. divide their labour, and adapt their operations carefully to the wants, tastes, and turns of the markets in which they sell. 2. “ETroneous Competition.” There is a competition in trade known to political eco- nomy, and a competition all too frequent in practice, which are totally different things. It is curious how public opinion, and respectable men in their proceedings, have come to pervert the sense of science. When manufacturers or merchants oppose each other by selling under cost, or when they cheapen by passing off an inferior for a superior article, they are said to be competing with each other. When two railway companies attempt to knock each other off the rails by trying how near to nothing they can carry goods and passengers, they are competing with each other. When thousands, of workmen strike their labour, and stop others from working in their room, for terms of wages or hours which they cannot get freely there or elsewhere, this is said to be the competition of labour with capital. It cannot be too clearly understood, or too constantly observed, that mo competition is recognised in any scientific law or doctrine which is not wholly moral in its methods, and in which the economic con- ditions of production, and of working with a profit and not with a loss, are satisfied on both sides. In mercantile business, competition of the spurious kind is sometimes as fierce as in other branches of industry. But it has also its more or less innocent approaches : attempts, for example, to equal or outdo other firms by acting on what is deemed their policy, though passing much beyond one's own experience, and what that experience has hitherto taught. The case is one of error of judgment rather than of bad intent, and all that can be said is 428 THE UNIVERSAI, TVSTRUCTOR. that it is often hazardous. On the other hand, the bad competition may arise out of the mere rivalry of two houses, at first honourable and Inot unequal, but increasing from step to step till it becomes internecine, in which case advan- tage seldom accrues to either, but, as in the story of the two dogs quarrelling over a bone, a third party steps in and carries off the spoil. 3. “Speculative Anticipation of Events.” Without entering on the general question of the legitimate place of speculation in commerce, be it enough to observe that in anticipation of certain events, such as the breaking out or the termination of war, changes of tariff and the like, which have an important effect on goods and produce, merchants have sometimes oppor- tunities of making great gains, or avoiding, it may be, heavy losses. When this is done on actual knowledge—knowledge certain to be realized—merchants are to be congratulated on the priority of their information and the promp- titude of their action. But great gains have also been made on mere rumours of events, or where the issues of an event were uncertain, as when war has been declared, but while it was still unknown whether it would ever be cntered upon, or whether it would last more than a lmonth, or be protracted over several years. The speculative operations to make a fortune, in such cases, were equally sufficient to overwhelm a firm in hopeless ruin; and in the state of affairs the one result may have been quite as probable as the other, or in other words, the Tesult was beyond all human ken. The specu- lation in such a case differs in nothing from gambling ; and if the chance turns up gain, the firm is scarcely to be congratulated. Such rare strokes of blind fortune, however enrich- ing at the moment, are more apt to unsettle than to establish mercantile houses in the path of success. - LETTERS IN COMBINATION WITH CAPITALS (continued). THE proper use of capital letters is a matter worth attention, as neglect of it is not only .., , detrimental to the appearance Vºia of any piece of penmanship or €tter S, manuscript, but is also an indi- cation of lack of education almost as patent as mis-spelling. It is of course only the very ignorant who commit such flagrant errors as, say for instance, the employment of a small “i’ for the capital letter where the first per- sonal pronoun is intended ; but One Sees mistakes scarcely less gross where they would be little cºpected. The following brief code of rules comprises the points most necessary to be borne in mind — 1. Every sentence should begin with a Capital letter. 2. The commencement of every line of poetry (whether the beginning of a sentence or not) should have a capital. 3. Allquotations, aphorisms, mottoes, proverbs, Or inscriptions should have an initial capital. 4. All names and titles of God should com- mence with a capital. At the present day also the Seemly custom of using a capital to all pronouns, whether personal or possessive, having reference to either of the three Persons of the Trinity, usually prevails. 5. All titles of majesty and honour take initial capitals, as The Queen, Her Majesty, His Royal Highness, My Lord, etc. It may be noted here that although the title of “JHis '' or * Her ‘’” Royal Highness” is always printed in books with a capital to the pronoun, yet many newspape?'s make it a point to use only a small letter here. This is merely in pursuance of what printers call the “style" of those papers, and should not be imitated in writing. 6. The first personal pronoun, I, is a capital. 7. Exclamations, such as “Ah!” “O!” “Oh!” “Hark!” should begin with a capital. We may mention also that a mote of admiration (1) should follow the word or words. 8. All names of places and persons should commence with a capital, as Gibraltar, New York, James, Lucy, Burns, Scott. All streets follow the same rule. The word “street,” itself is often found with a small initial letter, and joined to the preceding word by a hyphen in newspapers, thus “Thames-street.” This should never be followed in addresses of letters or other writing. “Thames Street ’’ is there the proper form. 9. Abbreviations are written in capitals, as M.P. (Member of Parliament), A.D. (Anno Domini, “the year of our Lord”), P.S. (post scriptum, “written after”), F.R.S. (Fellow of the Royal Society), MSS. (manuscripts). In all instances, too, it may be observed, where the letters indicate separate ovords, a period or full point follows cach. This is not the case between the letters in MSS., because the sign. stands for one word, and Only requires the period at the end. 10. Mr., Mrs., Miss, Esq., Sir, Madam, M. (Monsieur), M.M. (Messieurs), etc., commence with a capital letter. 11. Numerals (Roman) for successions of Sovereigns (as Charles II, Henry VIII, Louis XVIII, etc.), are best written in a “print” cha- racter, with the same slope as the writing. Note that it is incorrect to place a full point after the numerals, as is frequently done. Having given our students ample work for the present, we will defer examples of current hands, and present a few notes on some curious and interesting facts connected with the pro- fessors of the chirographic art. Few branches of teaching have witnessed so great changes during the present century as that of penmanship. The “writing-master” has indeed fallen from his ancient pride of place; and although he may often in the present day arrogate to himself the title of “Professor,” he is, as a rule, far inferior in practical skill and dexterity of hand to the / PENNIAAWSI/IP. 429 olden wielders of the quill. So far as relates to School teaching, this is, of course, due in greatmeasureto the introduction of copy-books with printed headings; whilst those who devotethem- selves to the teaching of adults are obliged, in conformity to modern ideas, to confine their lessons to so brief a time that nothing more can be expected from their pupils than the angular scrawl which they usually produce. The old writing-masters, on the contrary, looked upon their art as something worthy alike of attainment and preservation, and however we may be inclined to Smile at the grandilo- quence which they employed in their treatises, it must be acknowledged that we shall never —chirographically speaking—“look upon their like again.” The amount of old-fashioned literature extant, in our own language only, upon this subject would startle many of our readers. Still more surprising is it to find that The ancient writing-masters. drudgery of “setting copies.” The use of the pen, except in ordinary cursive writing, is necessarily unfamiliar to his hand. Not so with his predecessor. Occupied as he was: for a considerable portion of each day in writing copics in text hand, what was more natural than that, feeling confidence in his power to execute such copies with facility and beauty, he should, for his own pleasure, attempt them upon a still larger scale 2 The result of Such practice was, of course, surpassing: freedom of hand. These men could write with ease and Tapidity copies of extremely large size, or bold and accurately proportioned capitals of three or four inches in height, forming a great contrast to the miserable, stunted, angular abortions with which hundreds of the ledger- clerks of the present day deface their books. We have before impressed upon our students the necessity and advantages of this practice, but the subject is of such importance that it ‘F6m/8 your County your fome, themſaffianſ, yoºr meljóður, aſſ frºmdº your -* * * effi/?lſºn, untſyour &6 iſſren your 02072. J’o wf, endºu 0% ring tº2/.*1%aſs aft // ſº th. //era/ky and 2004 nature'. HANDWTITING OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. the ancient writing-masters had thought out their subject so systematically and well as to have anticipated most of our vaunted methods of modern days. We have already noted that “pencilled” copy-books, or those in which the copies are printed in faint characters, in order that the learner may go over them with pen and ink, was a suggestion of the celebrated John Locke ; and in the same manmer many of the boasted novel systems of transatlantic or foreign origin are to be found in the lengthy treatises of our old English writing-masters. Besides what we may term their good theo- rotical knowledge of the art to which their life emergies were devoted, these men possessed a practical experience almost impossible to parallel in our own days. Two things upon which they laid much stress conduced greatly { { to this—viz., “command of hand” º and “flourishing.” The first is & 4 º: , but little regarded now. Indeed, “*” this can hardly be otherwise when the writing-master is relieved from the tedious will bear reiterating. No surer means can be: found of obtaining a bold and free chirography than the assiduous writing of copies much above the size of ordinary large text—in fact, as large as the hand of the writer can compass. It is, however, essential in these exercises that the hand be kept strictly in the proper position. If the learner does not strike the letters by freedom of fingers alone, with the hand resting simply on the extremity of the little finger, and the fore-arm free of the desk, the practice is, worse than useless. Rigid fingers and a resting. wrist may suffice to paint large letters, but not. to ºrite them. When the hand is sufficiently formed it may be that the student will adopt, or, to put it more scientifically, his indivi- duality may express itself in, a very minute style of penmanship. But his previous practice in a bold hand will prove of great service to: him, and he will produce his small characters, with all the greater freedom and ease because of his ability to write large when necessary. The greater here certainly includes the less. #30 TEIE UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ºśgºgº zºś is Hºg’ºº-3-SS: §:#ft -º. §§ §§ wº Wº...? & ~ ºxº-ºº: Pºº-º-º: .# & §§ Cº. º.º. :ºSººs, Yºlº º:=S$9. ºppºrº XIV. EXAMPLES ON FOREGOING RULES. Example 1: Add together the following:— *** **, *. Adding together all the § §§ º % § 2; # ounces, we get 23 oz. (i.e. O 6 1 4 I lb. 7 oz.); ... put down 7 1 9 3 || 2 and carry 1 to the pounds. Adding together this 1 and 3 4 0 0 the pounds in the pounds column, we get 28 lb. (i.e. I q1.0 lb.) ... put down 0 and carry 1 to the qrs. We find 8 qrs. (i.e. 2 cwt. 0 qr.); ... put down 0 qr. and carry 2 to the cwts. We find 24 cwt. (i.e. 1 ton 4 cwt.). Put down the 4 cwt. and carry the 1 to the tons. This gives us 3 tons. Example 2: Subtract 19 cwt. I q. 17 lb. 3 oz. from 1 ton 1 cwt. 1 qr. 1 lb. 1 oz. ton cwt. gr. lb. oz. l l *s but 3 from 16 + 1 leave 14. 9 19 17 8 º' ..."; i.”i. 18 lb. from 1 lb. we can’t ; 0 1 3 11 14 but 18 from 28 + 1 leave 11. Carry 1 to the I q. Then 2 qus, from 1 q1... we can’t ; but 2 from 4 + 1 leave 3. Carry 1 to the 19 cwt. Then 20 cwt. from 20 + 1 leave 1. Carry 1 and subtract it from 1 ton. There is &no remainder. Oz. dwt. gr. lb. Example 3: Multiply 150 9 15 20 by 6. g 6 904 10 15 O 6 × 20 grs. = 120 grs. = 5 dwt. 0 grs. ; ... put down 0 under the grs. and carry 5. 6 × 15 dwt. = 90 dwt. and 90 + 5 = 95 dwt. = 4 oz. 15 dwt. ; ... put down 15 and carry 4, 6 × 9 oz. = 54 oz. Add 4 oz. Gives 58 oz. = 4 lb. 10 oz. 6 × 150 lb. = 900 lb. Add 4 lb. = 904 lb. lb. oz.dwt. gr. Example 4: Divide 904 10 15 O by 6. lb. Oz. dwt. gr. 6)904 10 15 O 150...rem. 4 lb. 12 6)58 oz. 9...rem. 4 oz. 6)95 dwt. 15...rem. 5 dwt. 24 6)120 gr. 20 Dividing the highest denomination (i.e. pounds) by 6 we get quotient 150, remainder 4 lb. 3 Oz. frona 1 oz. we can’t ; Multiplying these 4 by 12 to reduce them to Oz., and adding in the 10 oz. of the dividend, we get 58 oz. Dividing this by 6 we get quotient 9 oz., remainder 4 oz. Multiplying 4 oz. by 20, and adding in the 15 dwt. of the dividend, we get 95 dwt.s., which divided by 6 gives quotient 15 ; remainder 5 dwt. Multi- plying the 5 by 24, to reduce dwts. to grs., we have 120 grs., which divided by 6 gives 20 grs. without remainder. Ans. 150 lb. 9 oz. 15 dwt. 20 gr. Example 5: How many times are 5 cwt. 3 qis. 13 lb. contained in 49 tons 6 cwt. 0 qr. 71b. ? cwt. Qr. lb. ton cwt. Qr. lb. 5 3 13 49 6 0 7 4 20 23 986 4 4. 92 28 3944 7 4 644 15776). 28 13 - 7 657 lb. 110.432 7 110439 657)110439(168 657 4473 3942 5319 5.256 63 Ans. 168...I'em. 63. The lowest denomination in either compound quantity is lbs. ; ... we must reduce each quan- tity to lbs. This is done as indicated here. Observe that instead of multiplying by 28 to reduce qis. to lbs., we multiply successively by 4 and by 7. The first quantity reduces to 657 lb., and the other to 110439 lb. By simple division we find that the former number is contained in the latter 168 times, leaving a remainder 63. Jºve,'cises. 1. Perform the following additions:— lb. oz. dwt. gr. lb. Oz, dwt. gr. (a) 1 3 15 0 (b) 9 4 3 I? 7 11 23 19 17 6 0 8 6 () () 1 O 10 B 0 lb. oz. dwt. gr. (c) 150 6 13 14 Om. Cwt. Qr. lb. oz. t (d) 15 16 1 () () 109 5 O 6 3 O 3 I 15 40 0 10 0 4 5 0 19 I &=====w= *=s 106 I () () 6 O tons cwt. qr. 1b. Oz. tons cwt. Cir. lb. oz. (e) 7 19 0 7 I (f) 5 2 i 16 13 7 16 15 I 14, 13 O 2 2 6 5 () 2 6 2 17 I4 O 13 2 3 6 2 10 11 () 12 3 II 4 A WCIENT' EIISTORY. 431 2. Perform the following subtractions — tons cwt, qr. tons CWt. qr. tons cwt. qr. (a) 5 11 2 (b) 21 18 3 (c) 13 17 0 1 15 3 17 19 2 9 IS 3 cwt. qr. lb. CWt. ºr b. cwt. Gr. 1b. Kd) 17 3 21 (e) 15 0 7 (f) 28 3 20 15 0 17 ll 2 15 13 1. 27 Oz, dwt. gr. Oz. dwt. gr. Oz. dwt. gr. (g) 21 18 20 (h) 17 11 21 (k) 26 9. 18 8 17 15 13 14 18 2] II 21 3. Add together the following :— (a) 6 tons 1 cwt. 2 qls., and 560 cwt., and 35 tons, and 120lb. (b) 1631b., and 51 oz., and 13 qrs. (c) 95 oz., and 72 lb., and 33 q1s., and 15 cwt. Subtract :— (d) 1 oz. from 1 ton. (e) 11b. from 10 tons 3 qrs. (f) Add together the differences in the last two exercises, and from the result subtract 1 ton 1 cwt. 1 q1... 1 lb. 1 oz. 4. Calculate the following, multiplying by the factors of each multiplier when possible:– (a) 3 cwt. 3 q1's. 3 lb. × 29. (b) 15cwt. 1 q1.5 lb. × 15. (c) 17 cwt. 2 qes. 191b. × 93. (d) 7 lb. 8 oz. 16 dwt. 13 grs. × 29. (e) 15 oz. 13 dwt. 21 grs. × 113. (f) 29 oz. 1 dwt. 11 grs. × 276. (g) 18 tons 3 cwt. 24rs. 9oz. × 23. (h) 3 tons 11 cwt. 1 qr. X 15. (k) 5 oz. 7 dwt. 13 grs. × 56. In the following exercises, divide first by the given divisors, and then by the factors com- posing the multipliers, and show that the two results are the same. 5. Divide— (a) 5tons 3 cwt. 2 qis. by 4. (b) 57 tons 12 cwt. 3drs, by 16. (c) 3 cwt. 0 qr. 11 lb. by 18. (d) 116 oz. 0dwt. 20grs. by 81. (e) 31 oz. 7 dwt. 14 grs. by 16. (f) 120 oz. 14 dwt. 21 grs. by 108. (g) 315 oz. 15 dwt. 16 grs. by 27. (h) 15 cwt. I q. 201b. by 28. (k) 11 cwt. 3 q1's. 14 lb. by 77. (!) 21 tons 15 cwt. I qr. by 12. 6. In a collection made at a church, 100 persons subscribed, on an average, 1s. 6d. each; ‘another 106), ls, each ; another, 6d. each ; an- other, 3d. each ; another, 2d. each ; and an- other 16... each. The whole sum collected was divided among a certain number of poor persons so that each got 7s. How many poor persons must there have been 7 7. If a butcher buy 10 cwt. of beef at the Tate of 5%d. per lb., and sell it at £2 4s. 4d. per cwt., what is his loss on the transaction ? 8. Calculate the price of 12 tons of tea at 2s. 1d. per lb. 9. A sum of £75 13s. 83d. is divided into shares of 13s. 4:#d. each. How many such shares will there be 7 10. An ounce of standard gold is worth about £3 17s. 10%d. : how many ounces are there in £377 13s. 10%d. ? 11. A cistern, fed by a pipe which dis- charges 75 gallons per hour, supplies 200 houses with water. How many gallons per djem will each house get 7 12. How many bottles of wine, worth 33.7%d. each, must be given in exchange for 144 casks of beer worth 18s. 1; d. each Answers : 1. (a) 15 lb. 3 oz. 14 dwts. 20 grs. ; (b) 27 lb. 8 oz. 9 dwt. I gr.; (c) 300 lb. 3 dwt. 20 grs.; (d) 129 tons 12 cwt. 0 qr. 27 lb. 0 oz. ; (e) 30 tons 7 cwt. 3 qrs. 11 lb. 4 oz. ; (f) 26 tons 10 cwt. 2 qrs. 15 lb. 0 oz. 2. (a)3tons 15 cwt. 34rs.; (b) 3 tons 19ewt. Iqr.; (c) 3 tons 18 cwt. 1 q1...; (d) 2 cwt. 3 q1s. 4 lb.; (e) 3 cwt. 1 qr. 20 lb.; (f) 15 cwt. 1 qr. 21 lb.; (g) 13 oz. 1 dwt. 5 grs. ; (h) 3 oz. 17 dwt. 3 grs. ; (k) 4 oz. 17 dwts. 21 grs. 3. (a) 69 tons 2 cwt. 2 qrs. 8 lb. ; (b) 4 cyt. 2 qes. 26 lb. 3 oz. ; (c) 23 cwt. 3 qrs. 21 lb. 15 oz. ; (d) 19 cwt. 3 q1s. 27 lb. 15 oz. ; (e) 10 tons 0 cwt. 2 qes. 27 lb. ; (f) 9 tons 19 cwt. 1 q1... 25 lb. 14 oz. 4. (a) 5 tons 12 cwt. I qr. 14 lb. ; (b) 229 cwt. 1 q1. 19 lb.; (e) 1643 cwt. I q. 3 lb.: (d) 69 lb. 7 oz. 8 dwt. 21 grs. ; (e) 1773 oz.7 dwt. 21 grs.; (f 8024 oz.2 dwt. 12 grs.; (g) 418 tons 2 cwt. I qr. 11 lbs. ; (J) 53 tons 8 cwt. 3 qrs.; (k) 25 lb. 1 oz. 2 dwt. 8 grs. 5. We do not give the answer. The student must get each answer by two different processes, and if both processes give the same answer it may be assumed to be right. 6. 50 poor persons. 7. 4:3 10s. 9. 113 shares. 10. 97 Oz. 12. 720 bottles. 8. §2,800. 11. 9 gall. TIGLATH-PILESER II.—THE SECOND ASSYRIAN EMPIRE (continued), EVENTS in the Jewish kingdom soon after- wards claimed the attention of Tiglath-Pileser. Uzziah, or Azariah, the emergetic king of Judah, had died miserably, smitten with leprosy, for his blasphemous assumption of the office of high priest. him, reigning for sixteen years; and when his end approached, and in the Ordinary course his son Ahaz would have come to the throne, Pekah, king of Israel, and Rezon, king of Damascus, agreed to attack the kingdom of Judah, and force the people to submit to a monarch chosen by Pekah and Rezon. Jotham died, and the united armies invaded Judah, the ostensible reason of the invasion appearing to have been the idolatrous practices of Ahaz. A desperate battle ensued; it is stated that a hundred and twenty thousand men of Israel were killed in One day, and two hundred thousand women and children carried away to Samaria. Not Only was the young king, a man of weak character, attacked by the united armies on the north and east; but the Philistines, on the Jotham, his good son, succeeded & 432 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. south-western border of the kingdom, captured cities, and the Edomites made raids into the country, and took away many captives. In this extremity Ahaz appealed for * * help to i.º.º. Imost 0I J Uldall, powerful monarch of the time, before whom the kings of northern Syria, Damascus, and even of Israel, had quailed. The monuments record an embassy from Ahaz (Yahuhazi); and the Scriptural narrative (2 Kings xvi. 7) tells us that “Ahaz sent mes- Sengers to Tiglath-pileser, king of Assyria, Saying, I am thy servant and thy son; Comé up and save me out of the hand of the king of Syria and the hand of the king of Israel, which rise up against me.” The ambassadors bore presents of “the silver and gold that was found in the house of the Lord ” [the Temple at Jerusalem] “and the treasures of the king's Assyria went up against Damascus, and took it, and carried the people of it captive to Ker, and slew Rezin.” We are indebted to the decipherers of the monumental records for details of the great campaign. Rezin (or Rezon), the king of Damascus, prepared to meet the formidable ally of Ahaz, but sustained a terrible defeat. His army was scattered, his horses and chariots fell into the hands of the Assyrians, and thousands of his best warriors were made pri- soners, the leading captains being immediately crucified. Rezon himself fled from the field of battle, and succeeded in reaching Damascus, which was strongly fortified. Leaving a largé army to carry on the siege of the capital of Syria, Tiglath-Pileser, with a large force, marched southwards on a career of desola- tion. City after city (nearly six hundred is the number stated, probably many of them only É SNS TVA º Sº §§ W § §§§ \\ *ś . l §§ | §§ Hºt \\\\\\\ º | flºº Will iº §§ \ §§§ sº jº - § § ſº º - \º: º ºš º, M. 'º-e º º --~~ -------, º >< ..." (§ "-N º º º º º & º #3%ffº Zx: ºn M% º ), * * F&N ºlº) | i º º: º # º : | | | ill; º %. }%: N º º ºtº S$5 >S ~s -\ | & Šs== GAZA. house.” This application from the king of Judah appears to have been readily acceded to by Tiglath-Pileser, already master of a con- siderable portion of northern Syria, and to whom influence over the kingdom of Judah was a step towards intimidating his great rival in the attempt to establish universal dominion —Egypt. We now find a nearer approach to syn- chronism between the two chronologies than in the previous records. The inscription gives the date of the application of Ahaz to Tiglath- Pileser as 735 B.C.; the Biblical record fixes it at 740 B.C.; and the difference being only five years, we have really a remark- able confirmation of the accuracy of the Scriptural narrative. In the Book of Kings we have a very brief relation of the subsequent occurrences: “The king of Siege of Damascus, villages) belonging to the Syrian kings, who had so repeatedly broken faith with him, was captured, and the inhabitants carried away into captivity. The whole of the territories of Rezon were overrun and subdued, the capital, Damascus, excepted. It was too strong to be stormed, and only by the plan of cutting off Supplies could the galnison be made to sur- Tender. The stores of provisions must have been considerable, for the city held out more than two years. The kingdom of Israel was the next to be invaded. The north of the country was occupied, and the tribes beyond Jordan made captives. The Scriptural record (2 Kings xv. 29) is : “In the days of Pekah, king of Israel, came Tiglath-pileser, king of Assyria, and took Ijon and Abel-beth-maachah, and Janoah, and Invasion of Israel, ANCIENT HISTORY. 433 Redesh and Hazor and Gilead and Galilee, all the land of Naphtali, and carried them captive to Assyria.” The king, Pekah, took refuge in Samaria, and there remained in safety while his territories were a prey to the ruthless Assyrians. The Ammonites, Moabites, and Philistines were next attacked. Mitinti, prince of Ashkelon, the Philistine city on the borders of the Mediterranean, killed himself when he heard of the approach of the mighty Assyrian; but his son, Rukupti, more politic, made sub- mission. The king of Gaza fled into Egypt, but afterwards returned, being permitted to resume his throne on paying a heavy tribute. Crossing the country swiftly to the east, the Assyrian king ravaged the land of Edom ; and Queen Samsi, described vaguely as “the Arabian queen,” was compelled to submit : and a large number of people belonging to Arabian tribes, thirty thousand camels and more than twenty thousand oxen, were carried off. Samsi herself escaped for a time, but was captured. Either from policy, or an unwonted feeling of compassion, Tiglath-Pileser restored Samsi to her position as queen, but appointed an Assyrian to Watch over her—to be, in fact, what in modern language one might describe as a “resident "in her dominions. Other tribes were subdued, and it would seem that the conquests extended even to the northern part of Egypt, where a governor was appointed by Tiglath-pileser, at the request of some of the inhabitants. Damascus at last nº a fell. The surrounding woods had all been cut down for the use of the besiegers, and not a tree remained near the city. The Assyrian king, returning from his southern raid, entered in triumph. King Rezon was killed and the greater number of the inhabitants carried away. Then a great recep- tion was held, at which about sixteen of the petty kings of Syria attended, promised allegi- ance to the conqueror, and paid tribute. Among them was Ahaz of Judah, whose name appears on the tablet, confirming the statement in the Second Book of Kings (xvi. 7), “And King WOL. I. Ahaz went to Damascus to meet Tiglath-Pileser, king of Assyria.” ! Some of the Syrian princes refused to pre- sent themselves—among them Metenna of Tyre; but an Assyrian general was immediately sent to attack the town, then the foremost maritime city of the world, and an enormous tribute, equivalent in value to nearly half a million of our currency, was exacted. Then Tiglath-Pileser returned to Nineveh, where he had built a splendid palace near the bend of the river Khozr. Pekah, king of Israel, had been murdered by the usurper Hoshea, who had been raised to the throne by the influence of the Assyrian king; and for a time the Syrian land, from Dan to Beersheba, was quiet. The blow inflicted had been too Severe to permit immediate reaction. During his absence there had been new dissensions in Babylonia, and Tiglath-Pileser again invaded the country. One of the local chiefs, described as Nabu-usabi, king of the Silani, who offered resistance, was captured AIRARAT. and cruelly impaled in front of his palace, and his wife, children and treasure, with fifty-five thousand of the people, carried away. (The numbers given indicate a densely populated country.) Other petty kings were subdued; but one, Kinzira, of the tribe of Amukkan, Was unsuccessfully besieged, and appears to have been the only Babylonian or Chaldean chief who retained his independence. The Assyrian king was proclaimed king of Baby- lonia, and instituted splendid festivals in the chief cities of the country in honour of Bel, the Supreme god. Then came the end of thereign of this energetic and remorseless warrior. How or where he died we know not, for only a frag- º mentary allusion to a new miliº Tiglath- tary expedition remains. During €Ser, his reign of eighteen years he revived and Consolidated Assyria, vanquished and subdued nearly all neighbouring states, and bequeathed to his successor, Shalmaneser IV., a wealthy and powerful empire, 28 t TILE) UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. THE PRONOUNs (continued). Self-Evamination Questions and Ea:ercises. What is a pronoun, and why is it so called 7 What are the pronouns substantive, and what are the pronouns adjective 7 What do you mean by pronouns personal, reflective, posses- sive, demonstrative, relative, and interrogative? Decline ego, tu, se, ille, ipse, and qui and quis. How do you account for such forms as qu’s, quondam, quorundam 2 Distinguish the differ- ent meanings of is, hic, ille, and iste. What possessive pronouns are declined like bonus, and what like ater 2 Explain how it comes to pass that there are no distinct reflective pro- nouns for the first and second perSons. Translate into English :- Neuter horum homimum est major natu quâm alter. Alii sunt docti, alii non Sunt simplices. Quis est doctissimus nostrorum civium in hoc clarissimo tempore nostrae optimae Teipub- licae 7 Unusquisque noström est mortalis. Tibi est vita jucundior in maxima urbe ter- rarum cum viris felicissimis et doctissimis. Quis est felicior quâm tu, O optime nostrorum civium! In se est omnis sua cura. Pars major hujuS horti est mea, non tua. Hoc est idem quod illud. Quanta est prudentia. Vestra, et qualis virtus est? Est vir optimus, qui est optimus civium. In isto horto pulcherrimo erunt flores plurimi et fructus utilissimi. , Quidam philo- sophus est in hac urbe, qui erit gloria summa nostrae clarissimae gentis, et delicia totius generis humani. Translate into Latin :- Each (ne of you is a citizen of that most celebrated city of Rome. Concerning those three books of philosophy there is nothing very doubtful. The man yonder is wiser than thou and than all of us. Very many men have very many faults (say there are to for have). Very often the youngest men are the most active. The lances of those soldiers are brighter than their swords, and this most pure light of the sun. Behind the darkest cloud Often is the brightest light to each one amongst ourselves. Who was more learned than Cicero, more brave than Caesar? and what animal is whiter than snow ! The very books Of very learned men are the greatest monu- ments of their learning. How many men are there in the city? There are some few, not lmany. XVIII. THE VERB.-VOICE, MooD AND TENSE, AND ‘SUM AND ITS COMPOUNDS, In Lesson III., if you will remember, I told you a verb states what a thing or person is, What it does, or what it suffers : as yea, est homo, the king is a man; now nocet, night hurts, where est is the verb in the former sentence, and mocet the verb in the latter sentence. Observe that it is impossible to form a sentence, however short, without a verb ; and it is for this very reason that the verb is so called—from the Latin verbum, the word—for it is the most indispensable of all words in the sentence. You can make a sen- tence without any other part of speech in it except the verb, but a verb you must have if you are to have a sentence. The Thransitive Verb is one that takes an Accusative case after it to complete its mean- ing, and on which the action of the verb is considered to pass (hence its name, from transeo, to pass on to), as pue?”um capdo, I beat the boy, where the striking action of the master passes on to the boy's back or hand. The Intransitive Verb is one which does not take any case after it to complete its sense, as its sense is already complete : as puer dormit, the boy is sleeping. (It is called so from in, not, and transeo, to pass on.) The Deponent Verb has a passive form, but an active meaning: as wton', I am using, where or is the form of the passive voice. (The de- ponent is called so from depomems, laying aside its passive sense when it assumes the passive form.) Deponent verbs are conjugated like passive verbs, but have also gerunds, supines, participles, and future infinitives of an active form. Observe that intransitive deponents have no supine in iſ, nor gerundives. Iatin Verbs have two VOICES, Active and Passive ; and also they have two Parts, Finite and Infinite. The VERB FINITE has three MOODS - 1. The Indicative Mood. 2. The Sujunctive or Conjunctive Mood. 3. The Imperative Mood. The VERB INFINITE consists of Verbal Nouns and Adjectives : 1. The Infinitive, which is a verbal noum. 2. The Participle, which is a verbal adjective and declined like an adjective. 3. The Supine, 4. The Gerund, supplying cases to the infinitive when it acts &S 2, Il Oll]]. Verbs have Seven TENSES : Primary.—Present, as āmö, I love. Future Simple, as āmābā, I shall love. Future Perfect, as āmāvārö, I shall have loved. Perfect, as āmāvī, I have loved. IIistoric.—Imperfect, as āmābam, I was loving. Aorist, as āmāvū, I loved. Pluperfect, as āmāvāram,Ihad loved. Note.—There is only one form for the Perfect and Aorist; so amavi either=I have loved, or I loved. Verbs have two NUMBERS, Singular and Plural, and three PERSONS in each number. The First Person is that which speaks : as amo, I love, amamus, we love. The Second Person is that ºvhich is spoken to : as amas, thou lovest, amatis, ye love. The Third Person is that ovhich is spoken of: as amat, he loves, amant, they love. which are verbal nouns, PHYSICAI, GEO GRAPHY, 435 The pronouns ego, mos, tu, vos, ille, illi, are Tespectively understood in each case. JMoods. Mood means manner, or mode, from modus = $700,72,726.7°. Verbs have three MooDs, or manners of stating a thing—the Indicative, the Subjung- £ive, or the Imperative. The Indicative or Declaring mood states a fact, and is therefore generally used for the principal verb in a Sentence: as caedo, I beat. The Subjunctive or Subjoinable or Conjunc- tive mood, so called because it is generally subjoined to some other verb, states, not a fact, but something thought of: as (si) caederem, (if) I were to beat. - The Imperative or Commanding mood com- mands or asks: as cade Petrum, beat Peter. The Infinitive or Indefinite mood expresses the action of the verb in an indefinite manner : as cadeye, to beat. Under the Infinitive mood are generally placed the participles and the gerunds and supines. The participles, so called because they participate both in the nature of verbs and adjectives, are in fact adjectives capable of expressing difference of voice and time, and also completion, and can be either transitive or intransitive. Tenses. Tense means time, from tempus = time. Verbs in the Indicative mood have six TENSES or times. These tenses must refer either to the present, the past, or the future; and they must represent either what is per- fect (that is, complete), or imperfect (that is, incomplete). Hence we have the present imperfect, as cado, I am beating ; the past imperfect, as codebam, I was beating; the future imperfect, as cadam, I shall beat ; the present perfect (often used in an aorist or indefinite sense), as gecidi, I have beaten, or I beat; the past per- fect, as cecide,'am, I had beaten ; and the future perfect, as cecidero, I shall have beaten. & S º º w N º GE º Ss: g - º wº. Sº asº 3N : THE MOUNTAINS (continued.) THE term chain, is applied to mountains and hills commected by a continued base, and form- ing a line, which may be straight, P . angular, or curved. A chain does O ºn not necessarily mean an uninter- rupted line of eminences, but a range, which may be variable in height, or even detached, yet lying so evidently in the same direction as to indicate a continuous base. A mountain system is a series of these chains. Many chains present two or three nearly parallel ranges, the highest occupying the Centre. In such cases, the central mass is generally of ancient formation, and the asso- ciated ranges secondary or tertiary. The Alps, the mountains of Central Asia, and the moun- tains of Syria, Mesopotamia, Persia, Arabia, and North and South America are instances. The lateral ranges decrease in elevation in proportion to the distances from the central mass, and gradually diminish in & height till they are lost in the Plevatiºn of general surface of the adjacent * plain. The point of greatest elevation of a main range is generally about the centre of the line of extension, and the highest part of a branch chain is at the junction with the main chain. “Spurs' are minor branches, offshoots of the inferior ranges, sinking and merging into the neighbouring lowlands, There are various methods of estimating the direction of a mountain chain. Some geographers take a line passing through the culminating points at the maximum of height; others the longitudinal axis of the entire chain, or of the whole upheaved ridge ; and others, the “watershed,” or the line which divides the streams flowing down each side of the range ; but Humboldt adopted the line following the edges of the upheaved strata, or the axis of the fissure which resulted from the upheaval of the mass. This certainly affords the most correct definition of the direction of a chain ; for the line so traced is that along which the force has been exerted, and it lies in many instances at right angles to the direction of the dip of the upheaved strata. In the western hemisphere, or “New World,” the Western mountains follow the coast-line in double or triple ridges, nearly parallel, and in the direction of the meridians, from north to south. In the eastern hemisphere, or “Old World,” no single well-defined chain runs throughout, but there is a broad belt of moun- tainous country, nearly at right angles to the meridians, stretching through the hearts of continents. In some parts of the Scandina- vian and Scotch systems the direction of the ranges is nearly from north-east to south-west. In North Africa, the direction of the Atlas and the Abyssinian ranges is generally parallel to the systems of Southern Europe ; but the highest chain farther south follows the line of the east coast. In South Africa, the chains have generally a north-eastern and south-western direction ; and a similar fact is observable in Australia. - As we propose to describe, in detail, in future chapters, the physical e geography of each of the great *th divisions of the globe, it is only *.** necessary now to indicate some of the more prominent characteristics of the mountain systems. Beginning with the Eastern hemisphere, we may notice that a remarkable similarity exists in the conformation of Europe and Asia. The central spine of *::: and Europe (to use an expressive Slö, phrase) is the Alpine mass, and of Asia the chains which extend from the Taurus and Caucasus in the west to the Pacific Oceam in the east, each presenting a large central mass, 436 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. or nucleus, bifurcated at its extremity. The mountainous region of Asia Minor has a notice- able analogy with the Pyrenees and the ancient and partly igneous masses of central France. The Hungarian and Styrian basins, or depres- sions, between the divisions of the Alps, are re- pºrted on a very large scale in China. The basin of the Lower Danube corresponds with that of Tonquin ; and many districts of Turkey in Europe are represented in the peninsula beyond the Ganges. There are secondary ranges in the mountain masses of Central Asia, as in the Alps; and the Asian and Alpine chains alike exhibit clefts or passages—“passes " or “cols” —opened by convulsions of nature. North of the Alps are only a few domes of igneous rock, exactly reproduced in Asia, and, at a greater distance from the central chains, the ancient volcanic districts on the banks of the Rhine, and on the north-west of Germany and north of Bohemia, are analogous to the elevated groups of Asia, -such as Ararat, the Caucasus, and in the neighbourhood of Lakes Aral and Baikal. There is a Temarkable resemblance between the southern parts of Europe and Asia, depend- ing chiefly on the similarity of the mountain masses, with their slopes and adjacent valleys. Glancing from west to east, we recognise an analogy between Spain and Arabia, Corsica, Sardinia, and Italy (supposing the level of the intervening sea to be lowered, so as to show the connexion of the mass of land), and the Indian peninsula; Greece and Turkey, and the penin- sula beyond the Ganges. The volcanoes and their deposits on the Mediterranean and its archipelago have similitudes in the Sunda Islands, the Malayan archipelago, and Japan. The direction of the western or Pacific coast is followed, in North America, by the Pacific * Maritime chain, a lofty range America stretching northward from the peninsula of California, and separating the Pacific slope from the great Western table- land ; and by the irregular and lofty Rocky Mountains, extending from Central America to the confines of the Arctic Ocean, between the Western and Central table-lands. The Mari- time chain and the Rocky Mountains are some- times described as the Pacific highlands. In South America, the great mountain spine of the continent is continued southward from the ridges of Central America by the great chain of the Andes, the mountain system of Parama, and the coast chain of Venezuela. From the Andes immense transverse chains, the Cordilleras, extend eastward across the northern part of the continent. The north-western part of the African conti- nent is occupied by the great ranges of the Atlas, tº forming a natural division be- Africa, tween the Mediterranean Sea and the Sahara desert. To the south-west of the desert, and nearly parallel with the Guinea coast, are the Kong mountains, making, with the Cameroon mountains, the northern limit of the immense central table-land, described as High Africa. Near the eastern coast are the loftiest Tanges and peaks, and farther north the lofty Abyssinian ranges, which may be considered as a prolongation of the eastern chain. The Southern transverse ranges will be more par- ticularly noticed when treating of the physical geography of the continent. The loftiest mountains of Australia are on the South-eastern and eastern parts of the great island, and the mountains of A * Tasmania may be considered as ** branches. In New Zealand and the South Sea. Islands the mountains are generally isolated and volcanic. The following are the mountain chains which rise to more than 10,000 feet tº e above the sea level, with the Loftiest chains. maximum elevation :- IIIGEIIRST PIRAEC. FEET. Himalaya (Asia) . g 0. & . 28,000 Andes (South America) e & . 25,000 Kuen-lin Mountains (Eastern Asia) . 22,000 Thian-Sun (Eastern Asia) . º 19,000 Volcanic Mountains (Central America) 19,000 Rilimandjaro (Africa) . tº . 18,700 Caucasus (Asia) . g & e . 18,464 Rocky Mountains (North America) . 17,800 Alps (Europe) º g * ſº . 15,781 Abyssinian (Africa) & . 15,000 Atlas (Africa) g y g . 12,000 Pyrenees (Europe) . 11,168 The height of the snow-line, or limit of per- petual snow on mountains, will be described further on, as also the effect of the direction of ranges, meridional or otherwise, on the fauna. and flora of mountainous regions. A remark- able matter in connexion with the different di- rections of the chains may be noticed, although not strictly connected with physical geography. The meridional ranges, or those which run from north to south, appear to have little effect on the nationality of the people of the countries traversed ; but chains of mountains running from east to west seem to be very formidable barriers, impeding the fusion of races. It has been remarked that the immense meridional wall of the Scandinavian mountains has been no barrier to the occupancy of the country, on both its sides, by people connected by descent; and that, in both Americas, where the meri- dional direction characterizes all the chief chains, there is only one copper-coloured Tace, although the continent stretches through more climacteric zones than Europe or Africa, or than Asia, and Australia united. On the other hand, the Spaniards differ greatly from the French, from whom they are separated by the Pyrenees; and the Italians have far less affinity with the Germans, north of the Alps, than with the Spaniards. The fact is probably capable of explanation with reference to other causes than mountain chains. A general outline of the great mountain systems of the earth may be sketched in this manner. They assume the form of an irregular curve (with secondary chains and offshoots), surrounding the Pacific and Indian Oceans on the east, north, and west. The great American ranges, nearly nine thousand miles long, are the eastern limb of the curve ; the Asiatic mountain systems, with ramifications extending PHYSICAL-4 GEOGRAPHY. across the South of Europe, and the parallel Atlas ranges, mark the northern limits of the Colossal Ocean basin, and the African mountains, from Abyssinia to the southern cape, the western limit. TABLE-LANDS, PLAINS, WALLEYs, AND DESERTS. The term table-land, or plateau, is applied to any extensive mass of elevated land adjoining or intervening between mountain systems. It may have undulations, hills, and valleys, be traversed by mountain ridges, and serve as a platform for lofty peaks; but its prevailing character is that of a highly-raised region on which there is a considerable area of plain surface, from its aspect and height styled “table- land,” the whole presenting either gradual slopes or abrupt declivities, and sometimes terrace-shaped sides to the adjoining lowlands. E====E==== -->==== É :*::= :=====:======= º-...- --- :==E: :=-E:-E::===== ==== ---> E - ==######## :-->==: of which varies from 2,500 to 5,800 feet, is nearly 2,000 miles long, and 250 miles in average breadth, or about four times the size of Great Britain and Ireland. Cofinected on the south with this great Central Table-land by the Hindoo-Koosh mountains, and of considerably greater extent, is the Table-land of Iran, sometimes described as the Western Highlands of Asia, including the greater part of Persia and Afghanistan, and extending over more than 800,000 square miles. The average elevation is about 3,000 feet, but on the eastern portion of Afghanistan it rises to nearly 7,000 feet. The northern limit is marked by the Elburz mountains; the eastern by the Suliman range, west of the Indus ; and the southern and western borders of the plateau extend to the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea. Farther west is the Table-land of AT- menia, composed of a series of mountain chains SAN DSTORM IN THE DESERT, The most extensive elevated regions of this character are in Central Asia. There is a vast upheaved region in the middle of Table-lands of the continent, the southerm border Asia, extending from the Indus to the Straits of Fokien, and supporting the chain of the Himalaya, which may be described as marking the southern edge of the great plateau; the eastern border from the Amoor on the north to the Yang-tse-Kiang on the east ; the northern border marked by the Altai mountain system. Within these boundaries the plateau is traversed by the mountain systems, and there is a western extension from the highlands of Turkestan. A considerable portion of this elevated region consists of the desert of Gobi (im Mongolian “a naked desert”), or, as the Chinese name it, Shamo (“sea of sand ”), or Han-hai (“the dry sea”). This vast desolate tract, the elevation and terraced slopes, and extending between the Caspian and Black Seas and the Gulf of Scanderoon. The mean elevation of this region is about 7,000 feet. The Table-land of Amatolia, or Asia Minor, is a western prolongation of the Armenian plateau, rising in some parts to 3,300 feet, but depressed in the centre. Other Asiatic table-lands are the Arabian, reaching an elevation near the centre of 8,000 feet, but sloping into terraces on the east and south ; and the Deccan, or central portion of the peninsula of Hindostan. The most extensive district of this character in Europe is in the Spanish peninsula, which On the northern side attains an elevation of 3,000 feet, and on Table-lands of the southern 2,000 feet. The *P* plateau of Bavaria has a mean height of about 2,000 feet; and there is a region of moderate 437, 438 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. {} elevation in the south-western portion of cried; They cannot make hay unless the sun Norway. Nearly two-thirds of the African continent form a plateau extending from the South of the Sahara to the borders of ‘Cape Tººlands Colony; and there are other of Africa, plateaux in Abyssinia. These remarkable regions will be more particularly described in a future Section. The most remarkable plateau of North America is known as the Great Western Desert Plateau, a broad belt Table-lands about 5000 feet in mean eleva- of America, tion, between the Rocky Moun- tains and the Pacific chain, stretching from the Gulf of California to the Polar Sea, and embracing wide, rainless salt deserts, lofty volcanic plains, and traversed by mountain ranges. South of this is the great Table-land of Mexico, continued on to Central America. In South America there are very lofty plateaux between the ranges of the Andes. At Quito, under the equator, the elevation: is about 9,000 feet ; at Pasco, about 12 degrees to the south, 11,000 feet ; and the Table-land of Potosi, or Titicaca, surrounded by the loftiest summits of the Andes, is 12,700 feet in elevation, on a level with the Summits of some of the loftiest peaks of the European Alps. 5. the eastern side of the great island- continent, and westward of the mountain chains, are extensive plateaux, Tºlºs of locally known as “Downs,” sink. Australia, ing gradually into the large de- pression of the desert of Central Australia. YIII. ETYMOLOGY: Classification of Words. § 98. VII. Conjunctions. § 99. Compound and Complex Sentences. § 100. VIII. Interjections. § 101. The actual use of words is to be considered. $98. VII. Besides the prepositions which join ºvords, there is the class of words, called Conjunctions, which join sentences together. These are of two kinds, classified according to the sort of sentences they join. 1. The Co-ordinate conjunctions, which join indepen- dent sentences, as and, but, either, or, neither, *07. , 2. Sub-Ordinate conjunctions, which join to principal sentences those which are depend- ent on them for their meaning, such as for, because, since, as, if, unless, so, till, that, also, although, etc. Examples of the first class appear in, He is good or he is great; “Drink With me and drink as I; ” You are rich but I am poor. Of the second class the following are instances: “I came because your horse Would come ;” I will read if you will sing ; I , Wait till you come; He whipped them, so they shines; It was so cold that I put on my coat. There are also several phrases or compound words that may be used as conjunctive expres- Sions: like-nºise, as soon as, never-the-less, how- ever, not-withstanding, so that, in as much as, etc. $99. A Simple Sentence, or that which gives the sense of a complete thought, is composed, as we have seen ($81), of a subject and a pre- dicate, with or without an object. Two simple sentences joined by a co-ordinate conjunction form a Compound Sentence; each clause is good Sense without the other, and stands as of equal power ; they are co-ordinates. The con- junction does not form part of either—it only Serves to connect them : You are rich, I am poor ; the but simply joins them. The co- ordinate conjunctions only join independent sentences. There is a third kind of sentence, the Complex Sentence, formed of two simple sentences which are not of equal power ; one depends upon the other for the full expression of what it signifies; it is sub-ordinate to the first or principal sentence. Thus, in “I came because your horse would come,” the conjunc- tion because introduces the second sentence, “your horse would come,” and at the same time shows how it hangs on the first one, “I came.” Here the conjunction adds to the meaning of the clause ; it does not merely connect, as we see proved if we reverse the clauses : “Because your horse would come, I came * still conveys the same idea (the answer to the question why did I come 1); but if we substitute and for because we cannot do this: “And your horse would come, I came,” gives no sense at all. (Of course it is good sense, but very different from the original, to say, “I came and your horse would come.”) So it is with the other subordinate conjunctions; they introduce and join the subordinate sentences to their principals. Hence, when we are dealing with the analysis of speech—i.e., taking language to pieces to separate the ideas, not the single words—it is important to notice at the beginning what sort of conjunctions con- nect the sentences, as they give at once a token by which to know these. It is because they join and introduce subordinate Sentences in a similar manner that the relatival ad- Verbs have been called conjunctions. “I will come when you wish; ” “ the wind bloweth where it listeth; ” the words when and where perform the part of conjunc- tions, but at the same time preserve the force of ad- verbs in regard to the verb of the principal clause. § 100. VIII. Interjections are not considered as really “parts of speech,” being merely ejacu- lations or expressions of sudden emotion, which have no relation grammatically to other words. Still, as there are recognized forms for certain feelings, they cannot quite be left out of sight in the consideration of language. Oh 2 a.h 1 goodbye / (a contraction of the sentence, God be with ye), alas ! hurrah / pooh ſ are some of the interjections. § 101. In concluding this description of the grammatical “parts of speech,” one thing must be impressed upon the student—namely, that every Word must be considered according to its ASTRONOMY. 439 use in the sentence ; no word should be dealt with as an isolated thing, on its own absolute nature. For, as we have seen, what is a noun taken by itself may become an adjective by the manner in which it is used ; botick is a noum by itself, but in “a brick wall” it becomes an adjective ; picture is a noun by itself, but in picture-frame it is an adjective. Clearly under- stand the principle on which the arrangement of each of the seven classes is based, and the examination of words and sentences be- comes a delightful exercise of common sense and reason. There is an inherent principle to each of the chief Parts of Speech ; but the JEnglish language is so flexible that almost any word of one class may be used as a word of another. Thus mouns may become adjec- tives; adjectives are frequently understood as nouns: “How the blacks are falling !” “On, ye brave /?” “None but the brave deserve the fair,” etc. As to our verbs, a distinguished German scholar tells us that “the question whether a verb is [exclusively] transitive or intransitive in English is frequently not to be answered. . . . No other tongue avails itself to the same extent as the English of the liberty of inter- changing notions of activities” (Maetzner). We should ordinarily say that to seek is a transitive verb: Seek the child, They are seeking me ; so also of fire and kill ; Fire a house, Kill a man, etc.; yet it is not uncommon to find such verbs used with an intransitive sense : “Seek, fire, kill,” is found in Shakespeare. Again, the verb to move is usually transitive : Move that chair, The table is moved ; but we can also (as with others, by the omission of the object) use it in an intransitive sense, and say, I move, They are moving. On the other hand, that an in- transitive can be sometimes made into a transi- tive verb was shown in § 83; and Shakespeare furnishes several examples of the transitive use of verbs that are now intransitive, as “That he might have retired his power” (Richard II). Adjectives, and even nouns, may be turned into verbs: a countrywoman will tell you that “she must fat her ducks,” and the same verb appears in “kill the fatted calf" (adjective, fat, verb, to fat; participle, fatted); and we know how soldiers “fire the villages,” and “spike the enemies' guns.” In Goldsmith's “decent church that topp'd the neighbouring hill,” the noun top forms a verb. It is a curious reversal of the usual order when occasionally a pronoun is used for a noum. Orlando Says — “Carve on every tree The fair, the chaste, the unexpressive she.” As You Like It, Act, iii., Sc. 2. Pronouns and adjectives, too, trench upon one another's domains; and enough has been said in treating of adverbs, prepositions, and con- junctions, to show that careful discrimination is often needed to determine to which of these classes a word may belong. The word that is often given as an instance of the same word ranging itself under different parts of speech : “I know that you are going to give me that book that I do not like.” The first that is an adverbial conjunction, the second a demonstra- tive adjective, the third a pronoun. Let, then, the principle upon which each word is used be studied, and let nothing be taken “by rote.” These will serve as the Safest guides in the examination of our speech. XIV. BAYER'S NOTATION.—NEWTON'S RESEARCHES. BY the middle of the century an important innovation had been introduced into stellar astronomy. It has been already mentioned that the earlier astronomers were accustomed to indi- cate one particular star by mentioning its place in the constellation—such as by saying it was on the tail of the Great Bear, the horn of Taurus, the heart of Leo, the right shoulder of Aquarius, etc., etc. Bayer, a German astronomer, pub- lished a celestial atlas in which the principal stars were designated by the Greek letters, a denoting the brightest star, 8 the second brightest, etc., etc. This was found to be a very considerable advantage, and rapidly came into general use, until by the end of the seventeenth century its use was nearly universal. It was only in England that the older method seemed to linger for some time longer. The letters of the Greek alphabet used by astronomers are as follows, the first being the capital and the other the Small letter:— Stars : their nomenclature, == A a = Alpha N w = Nu B 3 = Beta F. : = Xi T y = Gamma O o = Omicron A 6 = Delta. II T = Pi E e = Epsilon P p = Rho Z č = Zeta > 0 = Sigma H m = Eta T T = Tau € 9 = Theta, T v = Upsilon I t = Tota. d q = Phi R K = I\appa X X = Chi A \ = Lambda Nº p = Psi M. p = Mu Q @ = Omega. Bayer's notation is now in general use, and astronomers talk of a Orionis, 8 Cygni, y Arietis, etc., meaning the star a in Orion, 8 in Cygnus, ºy in Aries, Ctc. During the latter half of the seventeenth century many endeavours were made to account for the peculiarities of the motion of the planets by means of some physical cause. On the Continent the famous theory of ethereal vortices enumciated by Descartes held almost universal sway. In England and amongst some of the northern Continental astronomers an impression began to gain ground that the solar system was ruled by the e force of gravity, gravity being ºp!...atiº ºf the force by wilict bodies were * ‘.f the attracted to the centre of the * t earth. It is commonly supposed that Sir Isaac Newton was the first to emumciate this 440 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. view ; but this is a mistake, for many of his contemporaries had earlier announced the same opinion. Huygens, in particular, had as early as 1671 established the principal laws which govern the motion of a body in a circular orbit, moving under a force like that of gravity tending to the centre of its orbit. Hooke, Roemer, Wren, and others had also discovered that if the planets moved in circles round the sun, it was possible to account - for their motion by assuming Early ideas them to be moving under the action of a force attracting them to the centre of the sun with an intensity varying inversely as the square of the distance. Newton, in 1665, had already arrived at the same result, but his great genius led him to take a step further. If the planets moved round the sun through the action of gravity, 5. then the moon must move round Nº. *y the earth through the action of 0. gravity. Now, astronomers did not know the force of gravity of the sun, and considered them- selves at liberty to assume it to be what they liked if it only fitted into their hy- potheses ; but they did know what was the force of gravity on the earth, and Newton saw it would be easy to find out if the moon did move in the way it ought to move if it were governed by the at- traction of the earth. To do this it was necessary for him to know the diameter of the earth; and he took this to be 6,900 miles, which was the value he supposed to be true, and assumed that the distance of the moon from the earth was thirty times the diameter of the latter. Now, if the moon were really moved by the gravity of the earth, to find out the number of feet by which the force of gravity would move the moon in one second of time it was merely necessary to multiply the distance of the moon in feet by twice the square of the length of the circumference of a circle whose radius is unity divided by the number of seconds it took the moon to revolve round the earth. Performing the calculation, it appeared that the moon should move 0-00382 feet in a second, or this was the force of gravity at the distance of the moon. Now multiplying this by the square of the distance of the moon in radii of the earth, or (60)”, it will give the attraction of gravity at the surface of the earth, because as the force of gravity varied inversely as the square of the distance, at the distance of the moon, or sixty times the radius of the earth, it would be diminished to (º)” of TELESCOPIC APPEARANCE OF THE MOON. its force at the surface of the earth. Now, 0-00382 ×(60)*=133 feet, which is the distance at the surface of the earth that the force of gravity should make a body move in one second of time, if the moon were really moved by gravity. But Newton knew that the real distance was 16 ºr feet; there was, therefore, a considerable discre- pancy, which Newton considered fatal to the theory. It seemed that it was not the gravity of the earth which made the moon revolve round the earth, and it was therefore most unlikely to be the force of gravity which made the planets move round the sun, for Newton saw that both effects must arise from the same cause. In these researches on astronomy, Newton made use of his newly invented method of mathematical analyses, by him termed “the method of fluxions.” He found it of the greatest assistance to him, and by its aid he was able to solve mathematical problems which could not have been suc- cessfully investigated by any other known method. The idea of an infinitesimal calculus was already known in a vague form to the mathema- ticians of the seven- teenth century, and had enabled them to make some progress in the more recondite portions of mathema- tics, Newton reduced this vague idea to a general method, based on exactly the same principles as the modern infinitesimal calculus. Appreciat- ing the importance of his discovery, during the subse- quent years Newton devoted his atten- tion from time to time to strengthening his new system Newton's sub- of analysis, though for years he tº dº tº ". refused to publish any account *. . o of his method. In fact, it was mathematics. not until the early part of the following century that Newton published any detailed description of it, though its principles are pointed out in a note to his great work “The Principia.” In 1673, Leibnitz, a famous German philoso- pher, learnt from Oldenburg, the secretary of the Royal Society of London, that Newton had invented a method for the quadrature of curves, or determining their areas. This led him to turn his attention to the more recondite branches of mathematics. Before long he invented a method of solving a class of pro- blems depending on finding the maximum or minimum values of algebraical expression by means of an application of the principles of the infinitesimal calculus, This method he Apparent discre- cy between eory and fact. ASTRO WOMY. 441 soon developed into the germ of the present a sº tº differential and integral cal- *..., culus; and in 1684 he published an account of his process. Its im- portance was at once appreciated by two great mathematicians, John and James Bernouilli, who, uniting with its inventor Leibnitz, rapidly developed this new method of analyses, and soon brought it to a state of con- siderable perfection. It rapidly spread over the Continent, where it was in general use some years before the publication of the first account of Newton's method of fluxions. Both Hooke and Halley, not being aware of the fatal discrepancy between the force moving the moon and the gravity at the surface of the earth, energetically persevered in their labours to find out the physical cause of the motion of the planets. They soon saw that it was useless to continue to discuss cases of circular motion, for the planets did not move in circles, but in ellipses; and if the force which moved the planets was a force like the attraction of gravity, the planets must be attracted, not to the centre of the ellipse, but to a focus, for the sun was situated in the focus, not the centre, of the ellipse. | Suppose the planets were retained in their orbits by the attraction of the Sun, what must be the law by which this force of attraction varied as the distance of the planet so that the planet might move in an ellipse around the sun placed in Forge necessary one of the foci ? Halley endea- *.*.*.*.*voured to solve this problem, but in an elliptical e & orbit, could not, for his mathematical knowledge was not sufficient. He applied therefore to Wren, who replied that he ‘had tried to solve the problem but could not. He then applied to Hooke, who answered that it required the force to vary as the inverse square of the distance—that is to say, it was the same as in a circular orbit. Halley was delighted, and asked him to show his proof, but this Hooke resolutely refused to do, on the ground that he would wait until others trying had failed, and thus would value his discovery at its right estimation. In real truth, it would seem that Hooke had not obtained a strict proof, CICLESTIAL GDOBE. but established the proposition by general reasoning, regarding the ellipse as the case of a circle projected into an ellipse. This did not satisfy Halley, so he determined to apply to Newton, known to be the best English mathematician ; and in August 1684 he pro- ceeded to Cambridge. In 1679 Newton had received a letter from Hooke in which it was stated that under certain conditions a body moving under the influence of a force varying as the inverse square of the distance would move in an ellipse. This attracted Newton’s Newton's later researches. attention, who regarded it as an interesting mathematical problem, and Set to work to determine the law with which the attraction must diminish with the distance to enable a body to move in an ellipse with the attracting body in one of the foci. By his splendid mathematical abilities he was able to establish by a rigid proof that it would be a force varying as the inverse square of the distance—that is to say, a force like gravity. In this, as in his Subsequent re- searches, New- ton was able to attack and solve problems by Imeans of the infinitesimal cal- culus which it, Would have been impossible to solve by the earlier methods of mathematical investigation. Had it not been for his invention of the method of fluxions, a System of apply- ing infinitesimal Small quantities to the investigation of mathematical problems, it is probable that the law of gravitation might not have been established for many years. This result struck Newton as most remarkable, for it seemed to point strongly to gravitation as the ruling force of the solar system. But he remembered his earlier investigations which had shown him that the motion of the moon was inconsistent with this hypothesis. He determined, therefore, to re-examine his investi- gation. The theory was perfectly correct. His data, too, seemed right: the distance and period of the moon were certainly correct, so was the value of the Newton finds force of gravity; then the value tºº. &- 1. – ºne explains motion assumed for the diameter of the II100Iſle earth seemed right : but wait— had not Picard, the celebrated French astro- | : t 442 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. nomer, lately found a different value for the diameter of the earth 7 Newton remembered that Picard had. Further inquiry showed New- ton that he was right, and that Picard, in 1679, by a careful measurement of the length of a terrestrial degree of latitude, had found nearly 4000 miles for the radius of the earth instead of 3450 miles, the value which had been employed by Newton. Astronomers regarded this new value as very much nearer the truth than the old, which had indeed been long suspected to The too small. Newton determined to recom- pute his result, using Picard's value of 8000 miles for the diameter of the earth. To his uncontrollable joy, the result came out 0-00448 feet for the deflection of the moon in one second of arc, which multiplied by (60)2 became 16} feet, and showed that the moon was retained moving in its orbit pound the earth by the action of a force of attraction towards the centre of the earth, of a magnitude which would make a body at the terrestrial surface move 16 feet in one second of time. As the force of gravity at the earth's surface would move a body of 1645 feet in One Second, it was evident that this force was identical with the force of gravity, or that the moon was kept in its orbit by the gravitation of the earth. Newton felt overjoyed at this result, and could scarcely control his feelings, for he fully recog- nised the grandeur of his discovery, and appre- ciated the enormous importance of the step he had made, in ascertaining the true cause governing the motion of the members of the Solar system. THE CONSONANTS (continued) R is pronounced at the end of a word after any vowel (except e), although another con- sonant may follow 7: ; bºrouillard's, chan', coeur', duo's, fors, sieur, soupin', tatre. Except monsiew” and messieurs, which are read ano-sieu, mē-sieu. In the termination er the following rules must be observed : (1) it is sounded in mono- syllables: cher, fer, mer, ver, fier (proud—but fier, to trust, is read fié), hier. (2) It is likewise sounded when a consonant is added to it : clerc, cenf, couvent, acquicº's, envers, Colbert, tiers, Thiers (but colontiers = tié). (3) In all polysyllables (excepting verbs) where er is preceded by f, on... th, v–as emfe)', ſucife", a men', St. Omer, 6ther, Jatthem', hive)', Gullive”; enfeo's. amers, hivers, Amven's, envers, Nevers, etc.; envillen' = cuillère (which is another spelling of the word). (4) In the following foreign words, which in the original have like- wise an articulated 7 : Ahmer, aster, belvéder, calender, cancer, eider, Esther, frater, gaste”, Jupiter, kirschnasser, kreutzer, liber, maſſis- fe?", Munster, Wiffer, mostén, pater, partmen", 70ttler, porter, semper-virens (simper-virims', a species of honeysuckle), stathouder, tender (in), £haler (th–t) trochanter (ch=%), Vesper, etc. From the foregoing conclude that all other substantives (and more especially those in cher, ge?', ie?', and ye7), adjectives, and all verbs of the first conjugation, have a mute 2 – boucher Béranger cavalier broyer bûcher boulanger dernier foyer rocher déranger lier noyer trancher horloger janvier Royer. The articulated final 7", even when it is fol- lowed by the mute consonants as marked in (1), (2), and (3), admits of the connection ; if an s is added on to the word by the inflection of the plural, the 7' is still sounded, but it is with the 8 that the connection takes place : un, brouillard ápais (a)^é), des, browillards āpais (ar-zé); mom chemºenfant, ones chers′enfants (chen'-2em); um Geºf alteré (ce, Tal), des cenfs alterés (cer-zal); le clerc a commis un faua, (cle?"Ta), les clercs ont commis des faua (eler- zon); du velou's anglais (ou?''T'an), des velours anglais (lour-can); Colbert était (ber-6) ministre des finances; Avven's a (verſa) donné maissance & Rubens (the natives say Amven'ss, as in JBºuazelles the people call their town Bruksel); M. Thiers a délivré le territoire (tier T'a), etc. Verbs in er and ie, are connected : dºne?"Ten. ville, il me faut pas vous fiel'Tá eua. Adjectives in e) and ier are connected only with the noun they qualify: le premie, Tamour, ledernie, Técu, un léger obstacle; in the plural the 7" remains mute, the s alone being joined : les demºnie'sTeous, de legers obstacles. But say il fut le demovie, & faire des reproches, il est léger & la counse; in the plural join s : ils furent les dermiers/Tä faire des reproches, les Indiens sont légers'Tá la course. Nouns of which the final 7" is mute only con- nect the s in the plural, but never the 7" in the singular : le boucher | a tué un veau, but les bouchers′ont tué; Béranger | a chantéla gloire et les malheum's de som pays. § 73. RR in the middle of a word is gene- rally read as one o' : ca”osse (ca-rosse), 7'embourré (bou-ré), Pyrrhus (py-rus); in the following words the two 7's are not exactly read after each other, they are dwelt on, rendered more emphatic : abhorrer, man'?'er (and derivs.), all words beginning with en'7', irr, and orr—interrègne, tenºrewo, horreur (and derivs.), concurrent, etc. Also in the future absolute and conditional present of acquérin', contrim' and their derivs., to distinguish those tenses from the imperfect indicative : je courai, I shall run, je coum7'ais, I should run, to be distinguished from je courais, I was running. § 74. S. This letter has either the hard sound of s in so, or the soft sound of the English z. It is hard (1), at the beginning of a word or of a root-syllable in the body of a word : sable, sand ; ensabler, to run aground. semblable, similar; vraisemblåble, probable. séance, sitting; préséance, precedency. seigneur, lord; coseigneur, partner in power. Sinus, sum tas; COSlmus, costmus. social, social; antisocial, antisocial. Soleil, sum ; tournesol, sum:flower. syllabe, syllable; monosyllabe, and other derivs. style, style ; péristyle, inside row of columns. J'REAVCPI PRO WUAVCIATION, 443 This principle is not consistently carried through, for when the iterative particle re and preposition de are placed before a verb begin- ning with 8, it is usual to double the s in order to maintain the Original hard sound of s : dessaisir', dessaisonner, dessale", dessangler, desséchev', dessert, dessiccation, etc., q'essac, res- Saisin', 'essasse)', 'esseller, ressembler, q'essentir, 7'essey'vir, ressortir, etc. It is interesting to observe that the s is usually not redoubled in verbs possessed of an iterative signification when the word from which they are derived appears in the same phrase. Thus one writes : 'il a 6té Saigme et resaigné, il m'a salue et resalug, cet actew," a 6té sithé et 7'esiſſié, etc., but the s is pronounced hard. On the contrary, when the words have a recognised place in the vocabulary of the language s is doubled (res- semble”), or is Soft (résister, résumer); observe here that if the s is soft the e takes the acute accent. The pronunciation of the combinations dess and 7'ess requires to be considered : the syllable dess gives the sound dé, therefore the above examples are all read dé-saisir, dē-saison- mer, dē-Saler, dē-sangler, etc., except, however, dessows, dessus, the e of which preserves the slender sound (see $ 20). As for the syllable a'ess, the slender sound of e is throughout maintained ; read therefore the above examples 7'é-sac, 7'é-Saisin', 2'e-Sasseſ', 76-seller, etc., making an exception but for these two words and their derivatives, ressusciter and aresswyer, which are pr. 7'é-suſ, q'e-swi. (Besides the examples vrai- semblable, préséance, coseigneur, cosinus, anti- social, tournasol, monosyllabe, the other words that one could mention as having the hard s between two vowels, owing to the etymology, are not numerous : présuppose?", désuétude, soubresaut, asyruptote, cosécante, parasol, pētro- silea, prosecteur, twisection close up the list, or are all we have been able to find after a careful search.) The s is hard (2) after a nasal sound, or at the end of a syllable when the next syllable begins with a consonant : transi”, pensée, ton- sure, réponse, chansom, ensemble, espérance, lor’sque, mosquée, esclare, monstre, etc. Mark, however, that s is soft in Alsace, balsamine ". - • y º * j transaction, transiger, transit, transition. S is soft when it is placed between two vowels, not being them the initial letter of a root-syllable : baser, baiser, bisaïeul, risette, osey, user, etc. The presence of an h would occasion no difference : déshaballé = dé-za, déshommété = dé-co. Pemark I–The s would not be heard at all in com- pounds with des, les, mes, ses, if the liext vowel began with a consonant: desquelles = dè-quelles, Descartes = dè-cartes, lesquels = ??-quels, Lescailles = 18-cailles, mes- dames = mê-dames, Ilſesnard = mê-nard, etc. In destin, onesquim, sesterce, des, mes, ses are not one of two com- ponents making up the Word, hence the s must be heard. Remark II.—The great majority of s”s before c, l, m, p, q, t, have disappeared and been replaced by acute or circumflex accents placed on the preceding vowel: in Old French écrire was sp. escrire, ºle was sp. isle, ‘méne Was sp. mesme, épine was sp. espine, Śvēgue was sp. evesque, maître was sp. maistre. Some proper names, especially those of persons, have retained this s, which of course is mute, and has a tendency to disappear. The spelling of the names that have become historical is fixed, the spelling of the names of private individuals is often a matter of caprice, corresponding very much to what is observed in Some British names: Smith and Smyth, Simson and Simpson, Johnston and Johnstone, M*Donald and Macdonald, etc., Aisne (a river), Bastard, Dumoustier, Leprestre, JPresle, Testu, etc. General Rule.—At the end of a word s is mute, and especially when it is there by inflec- tion : Antibes, bas, décès, hors, jays, legs, moins, puits, repas, etc.; les frères, mes sou?’s, mos parents, etc. (The final mute s coming after a and o, as in trépas, repos, gives to them the Sound 6, 6.) The exceptions are rather numerous :- Among the common mouns sounding the finals are the following, ending (1) in as : as, asclépias (bot.), atlas, habéas-corpus, hypocras, Stras, vasistas, (2) in és : Agnès, aloes (bot.), aspergès (al. goupillom), cortès, florës (pop.), hermès, key’mès (bot.) ; (3) in is : Adonis, amadis, amam'ſ/llis (bot.), aa is (anat.), bis (twice, but bis. brown, read bi), cassis (bot.), &léphantiasis (med.), in eact, emis, gratis, ibis (mat. hist.), iris (bot.), lapis, lychnis (bot.), lis (lily, but in heraldry les fleurs de lisread li), métis, myosotis (bot.), myrrhis (bot.), oasis, orchis (orkis, bot.), de profundis, rachitis ("achitisme, more usual, med.), & 7'émotis (aside), thetis, unguis (read ongºlis, anat.), vis; (4) ill os : albatros (nat. hist.), albinos (do.), ºne, inos, pathos, rhinocéros, tétamos (med.); (5) in us ; agnus, angélus, argus, bibus (pop.), blocºſs, bolus (also bol), calus, canthus (anat.), ca?'70s (do.), cholára-morbus (med.), chorus, cosinus (math.), corpus, crocus (bot.), cubitus (anat.), d'étºitats, foºtus (anat.), ſongus (med.), fºcus (bot.), gaºls (med.), hiatus, humérus (anat.), hºnºus (agric.), iléus (med.), in manus, "nodus faciendi (fa-si-in-di) motus (pop.), in matum'alibus, negus (Abyssinian chief), modius (med.), monius (better mommius, mathem.), obus (say obuze), olibrius (pop.), omnibus, orémus, ſpalus, papyrus, in pantibus infidelium, phébus, p?'ospectus, quibus (pop. corresponding to de quoi—il a du quibus or il a de Quoi, he has money), quitus (finance), ºadints, rébus, q'hus (al. Sºmag, bot.), Sénatus-comsulte, simus (ma- them.), sirius (ast.), stimilus (med.), thrombus (do.), trochus (mat. hist.), tumulus (antiq.), tº/phus, 70'amºus (ast.), vénus, virus (med.), zétus (ast.). For parisis, us, vindas, the Aca- démie's dictionary sounds the s ; M. Littré pronounces parisi, u, vinda. These also sound the final s : cens, man's, moms (a term of con- tempt, from monsieur, a term of respect), sens. The above list is fairly complete ; it will be seen that it contains none but words derived from Greek and Latin, which have undergone hardly any modification ; they are easily recog- mised. It is an evident principle that those words which have been thoroughly naturalised, or are in daily use, have a tendency to make the s mute, which is in perfect keeping with the law of evolution in the French language. Over certain words grammarians are not all agreed, but it is erring on the safe side, erring in the company of M. Littré, and with the tacit assent of the Académie, to leave the s imarticulated in the following words : chas (shā, but un chas 6troit pron. 28); fils (fi, but ºnom fils aimé prom. 26); gens (jan, but des gems aimables pron. :8); hélas, mažs, mours, os, ours, 7'a?’ibus, en sus, to us. THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. º XIV. THE TUDOR PERIOD IN ENGLAND. Henry VIII. (continued). THE next years after the peace of 1514 saw the elevation of Charles V. to the power he Yielded with such deep policy and astutemoss. The death of Ferdinand the Catholic put him in possession of Spain and the "Position of Netherlands; the death of Maxi- ãº; milian made him master of the and Franji.' 'great Austrian inheritance; and the votes of the electors conferred upon him the imperial crown of Germany: magnificent meeting of the “Field of the Cloth of Gold'—that last expiring effort of chivalry, Where the weapons and the chal- lenges, the combats and the cere- Field of the monies, were those of bygone §. 3. º; times; but Charles contrived to **** * come to Dover before the King started for France, and by promises, professions of friend- ship, and offers of service, to gain over Henry and his minister to his interests. Henry returned the Emperor's visit at Gravelines, after the gorgeous festivities on the plain between Guisnes and Ardres had come to an end; and here, and at Calais, whither Charles escorted Henry, the wily Emperor contrived to undo what Francis had taken so much pains to effect, and even to engage England in an alliance against France, Wolsey had already received * Commission from Leo X. as papal legate. His possessions were now further increased E ######==#===#E - - - ==== #====== ---T- --- and here commences the long contest between the Emperor and Francis, which occupied the greater part of the next thirty years. The Tivalry between the two monarchs conduced greatly to the advancement of Wolsey, whose good-will was rightly considered the nearest way to his master's favour. Both Charles and Francis accordingly flattered the great minister. Francis in his letters called Wolsey “father, tutor, governor.” Charles, with a true insight into the Cardinal's character, inspired that ambitious man with hopes of attaining the papacy through his influence and intervention. With profound policy he managed to counteract all the efforts of the French king to secure the frendship of Henry, whose true interest mani- festly lay in preventing the power of Spain and Austria from becoming overwhelming in Europe. Francis showed a just appreciation of Henry's character when he planned the * ------ - -- ~~-- ~~~-------- ---------------- *= CAN TERIBURY CATHEDRAL. by the Tevenues of the sees of Placentia and Badajoz, bestowed upon him by Charles. He was almost, if not quite, as rich as his master, and affected the pomp and state of a sovereign rince. He expressed great offence when Warham, the Archbishop of Canterbury, signed himself “your loving brother.” Well might Warham exclaim with a smile, when this was reported to him, “Know ye not that this man is drunk with too much prosperity ?” The execution of Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, which took place soon after the Field of the Cloth of Gold, brought gº $ great odium upon “the butcher's * S son,” as the indignant crowd at M. that unjust spectacle clamorously “"“” called Wolsey. The fate of the Duke's imme- diate ancestors affords a striking picture of the times in which they lived, when every part of the kingdom heard “the din of battle fray, IIISTORY OF MOD ERAW TIMES. 445 lance to lance, and horse to horse.” He was directly descended from Edward III., through that king's youngest son, Thomas of Wood- stock, Duke of Gloucester. He was the fifth of his house, in succession, who died a violent death. For more than a century not one chief of the Staffords had died in his bed. Edmund, Earl of Stafford, the son-in-law of Thomas of Woodstock, perished at the battle of Shrews- bury. His son was slain at Northampton, his grandson at the battle of St. Albans. The next Stafford, Henry, Duke of Buckingham, was beheaded at Salisbury by order of Richard III. ; and the Duke himself perished on Tower Hill, condemned for high treason on the testimony of Knivett, a discarded servant; though no overt act was even alleged against him. º i t º a º | t | Nº º §§ t | § § & * sji resº * 5-3 º sºlºiſill; Aiºlºſſºt º § t º: . A. º † : : K; %; - & §º §§§ } º §§ } # A. t ####". England into his hands. Then it was that Wolsey founded the two colleges, “those twins of learning,” as Shakespeare calls them, at Ipswich and Oxford ; for, to quote the same authority, “though unsatisfied in getting— which was a sin—yet in bestowing he was most princely.” The sacking of Rome by the Imperialists under the Constable de Bourbon, and the imprisonment of the Pope, further alienated the churchman Wolsey, and conse- quently England, from a monarch whose army had triumphed by sacrilege. A few days before this event a treaty had been made with France, by which Henry, who had long since dissipated his father's treasures, and was often in want of money, was to receive a million eight hundred thousand crowns, while a present of a hundred º ſº † sº ~sº-ºº: § §: § tº: §§ *-ºm-º: §§ *F± flººs-e-es # y - º: º § § | # in: * \r- - *u- º -ºº º .* [. * * * * * ºr ºf * {... 3 - r - ~ ſº §§ i. sº & Sºmeº * --> -º-º-º-T: nº º: ; º º- *NS=º *...*--º ST. ALBAN's ABBEY. The friendship between Charles V. and Henry was not of long duration. Cautious and Wary as the Emperor generally was, the magnitude of his triumph over Francis in 1620 seems, for a time, to have warmed his cold heart into cxultation. He wrote to Henry by the hand of a secretary curtly subscribing himself Charles. Wolsey had already learned to estimate the value of the Emperor's professions of Set- vice; for in 1521, and again in 1523, the holy see had become vacant, and each time another candidate had been elected to fill the chair of St. Peter. When, in the latter year, Giulio de Medici became pope, as Clement VII., Wolsey's vexation and disap- pointment were extreme. Clement, however, propitiated him by making him legate for life, and thus putting the ecclesiastical affairs of thousand crowns was made to Wolsey, dis- guised under the form of arrears due on the revenues of the bishopric of Tournay. At this time, and indeed frequently during his reign, Henry replenished his coffers by exactions from his subjects, generally disguised under the pretence of loans. The Commons House of Parliament, which had long held the right of taxation, contrived in general so far to maintain its authority, that the arbitrary king maintained the appearance of trusting to the loyalty and affection of his subjects, who were to testify their attachment by the “benevolences” or sums paid as tokens of goodwill. Sometimes, however, his savage temper broke out against a refractory mem- bet. “Ho, man I will they not suffer my bill to pass?' cried the royal tyrant, laying 446 TIIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOI8 t his hand ominously on the head of Montague, a member, who, summoned into his presence, was kneeling before him. “Get my bill passed by to-morrow, or else to-morrow this head of yours shall be off.” . The bill was passed next day. But sometimes both the Commons and the country showed signs of a less complying temper, and then the King always had the prudence to compromise (matters. “We cannot doubt,” Says Hallam, “that the unshackled condition of his friend, though rival, Francis I., offered a mortifying contrast to Henry. Even under his tyrannical administration there was enough to distinguish the king of a people who submitted in murmur- ing to violations of their known rights, from one whose subjects had almost forgotten that they ever possessed any.” Most important to England, as involving the separation of the Church from Rome, and thus paving the way for the Reformation in the country, were the events connected with the King's divorce from Catherine of The divorce of Arragon. . It was in 1527 that the Catherime of ſing first moved in this matter. Arragon, His fierce heart had been capti- 1529-1588, wated by the charms of Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, and closely connected with the Norfolk family. Henry felt, or affected to feel, scruples of con- science with regard to his marriage, as Cathe- Fine had been the wife of his elder brother ; and accordingly applied to the Pope for a divorce. Clement was a man of timid dispo- sition, and feared to excite the anger of Henry by refusal, or that of the Emperor Charles by compliance. Accordingly he temporised, and sent Cardinal Campeggio to England to try the cause in conjunction with Wolsey. That haughty favourite, who had “sailed for many summers in a sea of glory,” now encountered the rock on which he was to split. He affected to promote the King's wishes, though at first He had earnestly dissuaded him from applying for the divorce. He even made Anne believe he was her friend in the matter, though he was bitterly opposed to the thought of the King's marrying a person addicted, it was supposed, to Tutheranism ; but in secret he seconded the efforts of Campeggio to delay the decision. Thus the legatine court, whose authority the queen utterly denied, was adjourned, after sitting for some weeks, without effecting anything; and when by order of Clement it was trans- ferred to Rome, the jealous suspicions of the King were thoroughly aroused by “this dilatory sloth, these tricks of Rome,” and the weight of his anger fell at once upon Wolsey. . ºf Yºº. Within a few weeks the once all- s death, 1530, - wº ---> powerful cardinal was stripped of his wealth, his preferments, his liberty. His great palace of York Place was forfeited to the King; the great seal was entrusted to Sir Thomas More. He was charged with receiving papal bulls contrary to law; and a writ of praemumire was sued out against him, declaring all his goods forfeited to the law and himself subject to imprisonment during the King's pleasure. Henry appears more than once to have softened towards his old favourite. A free pardon was granted to Wolsey in February 1530; and the Cardinal, restored to his sees of Winchester and York, went to reside in his diocese of York, where, in the course of a few months, he gained great esteem by his conduct. But Henry's enmity revived. In November of the same year Wolsey, arrested on a charge of high trea- son, set out as a prisoner for London. That doleful journey was never completed. Wolsey, now in his sixtieth year, and a severe sufferer from dropsy, could only travel by short stages. At Sheffield Park he was detained for a fortnight by a violent fit of illness; at the convent of Leicester he informed the abbot : “I am come to lay my bones among you.” It was to Kyng- ston, the Lieutenant of the Tower, who was present in his sick chamber, that he addressed those dying words, so eloquent in their forlorn simplicity, that have clung for centuries as a re- proach to the memory of his tyrannical master : * And, Master Kyngston, had I but served God as diligently as I have served the king, He would not have given me over in my grey hairs. But this is my just reward for my pains and study, not regarding my service to God, but only my duty to my prince.” The next day, the 30th of November, he died. . The question regarding the divorce was still unsettled. On the one hand Henry, though actively engaged in depressing the power of the clergy in England, was unwilling to break entirely with the Pope ; on the other his determination to marry Anne Boleyn was only increased by difficulty and delay. Wolsey had rightly said of him, “Rather than miss any part of his will, he will endanger one-half of his kingdom.” Dr. Thomas Cranmer, of Jesus College, Cambridge, suggested that the King should collect the opinions of the various uni- versities concerning the divorce. Henry de- clared with strong approval that Cranmer had “got the right sow by the ear,” and eagerly pro- ceeded to act on the suggestion. Further oppo- Sition now only served to harden his stubborn soul. He determined to deny all obedience to Rome, and tried to induce King Francis, with whom he was now at peace, to do likewise. He created Anne Boleyn Marchioness of Pem- broke; and, in January 1533, took a decisive step in the matter by privately marrying her. Soon after the marriage was publicly acknowledged: On the strength of the opinions of some foreign universities, and of those of the Convocations of York and Canterbury, Cranmer pronounced a sentence of divorce of the King from Catherine of Arragon. That unfortunate queen, now degraded to the position of Princess Dowager of Wales, continued till her death, in 1546, to protest against these proceedings, and to de- clare herself the lawful wife of Henry. A bull of excommunication issued by the Pope against the King and Anne Boleyn strengthened Henry in his project of making himself independent of Rome. Henry and Anne Already he had procured from Boleyn excom- the parliament various statutes municated. to circumscribe the power of the clergy and their great head—such as the statute against non-residence and pluralitics (1529), Cranmer's advice, GERMAN. 447 the act depriving the Pope of the annates, or first year's rent of bishoprics that fell vacant. Henry had also induced the clergy, with certain reservations, to accord him the title “The Pro- tector and only Supreme Head of the Church and Clergy of England.” One act after another now bore witness to Henry's determi- nation to set the papal authority at defiance. By the Act of Succession of 1534, the infant princess Mary, the daughter of the King and Catherine of Arragon, was excluded from the throne, which was secured to the Princess g Elizabeth, and to Anne's children *. ; generally. Refusal to acknow- #."ºr. ledge this settlement was pun- tº ished as misprision of treason. Appeals to Rome in ecclesiastical cases were forbidden. In sermons publicly preached at Paul's Cross, in London, the Pope was declared to have no jurisdiction in England, and no more power than another foreign bishop. The payment of Peter's pence was forbidden, as was also the investiture of bishops by the Pope ; and at last the Act of Supremacy established the King of England as head and ruler of the English Church. §º- º ºw ſº XV. STUDY FOR READING AND PRONUNCIATION. 3Der frette Stetter." dare troy'-e Qºy'-tery THE FAITH FUL TROOPER. 3Delt fünften unb fed ſtem Suſt dane fuemf'-ten unt zea'-ten yoo'-lee The fifth and sixth July adjt;elyn jumbert umb neum (tefetten” bte acht'-sain hand'-ed'7% ºf moin Zee'sfer-ten dee eighteen humdred and mine gave the SOeſterreider beit $rançoſen cine große ocs'-ter-7'y-chen'7' dane fran'-tso-gen iſ-negross'-e Austrians to the French a great ©djſadīt;" eó bar bei bent Qorfe Sagrant, shlacht cºs way by dame do?','ºfe waſy-gram battle ; it was near the village (of) Wagram, midſt ºpett port ber $ºtiferſtabtº $ient. night vite fon dare ky'-zerº-statt veen. not far from the imperial city Vienna. 3)a ſagen me!}r tobte umb periptimbete dah laſ-gen main' foa'-te unt fer-vun'-date There lay more dead and wounded ©oſbaten" auf ben QIſferſeſherm aſ 31ſt zoll-dah'-ten omf dane ack'-er-fel-derm als tsoor soldiers on the cornfields than at the Gritte;ett Garbert. 111tter ben picſen ai)'n'-te-tsite garm'-ben un'-te), dame fee-len harvest-time sheaves Among the many §auſenben Ivar aud, ber 9) afor", ppm tomo'-zen-den va) on:ch &are mah-yore' fon thousands was also the Major von soff, eim Soffišter pom ber Šteiterei. wolff ine of feet-see,' ſon dare 24/-te-ryo' Wolf, an officer of the cavalry. ©rſt amt 3ivetten Żage eripadyte er ai,”st am tsvi/-ten tah'-ge cy-reach'-te air'). Only on the second day awoke he auð ſeiner SD9mmtadt,' bent er batte 07:38 24/-mer omn/-macht denºn air), Jºat'-te out of his faint for he had fjmere $1mben erºgſtem. (£3 mar Sºiffag, slºvai,'-e vun'-den en'-halt-en ess vahr mitº-tagh heavy wounds received. It was noon, unb bie Gonne ſºften febr beiff. (ºr wnt dee zon'-ne sheen zair hyss & ir'). and the Sun shome very hot. He ſed;te” bor g)urſt unb feſte unit cite lechts'-te fore doorst unt flay'-te wºn '-ne languished for thirst and implored for a joyſe Şamb &aſſer. ºerr ber ©diſadten,” ho'-le hand vas-sey' hai,” dare shlach'-ten hollow hand of water “Lord of the battles,” betete et ſaut, ſtomitte itſ miſfit fierben I bay'-tete air” lon't konn'-te ich nicht stai?'-ben. prayed he loud, “could I not die muff id) ſier perſämädten ſº Qa erſeſ, muss icſ, hear)" fe?”-shmach'-ten da ey-hoal,' must I here perish . " There lifted ſid, qué ben Seiden ein bärtige6 sich, oness dame ly'-chen ine bairn'-ti-gess itself out of the corpses a bearded Şaupt;" eff war ber honºpt ess war dare troi'-e ry'-tery rite head : it was the faithful trooper Veit. (ºr feltdºte: ,Site Sade” iſt gam; in ter aim” koich'-te iſ-ne la'-che isst gamis in dare he gasped: “A pond is quite in the freue Stetter Seif; 9täfte; id) flyerbe topſyſ mcd) 'nay'-6 ich vair'-de vole noch neighbourhood ; I shall well yet {infommen., 3 cm armen Şeif batte him/-kom-men dame ar','—men arite Jºat'-fe thither come.” To the poor Veit had eine Sanomenfugeſ belt 5uff ſtegge- *-ne ka-no-men-koo-gel dane fooss vechºe- 3, cannon-ball the foot away ſdjſagen, itnb ſo fretſ) er auf bert Sánben shla-ſ/67, 7/77t zo Kroch air” onf dame hen'-den struck, and so crept he on the (his) hands §lt per Sadie, faut poſſ” &taub umb Šſuf (soo dare la'-che kahºn foll stoºp ºnt bloof to the pond, came full (of) dust and blood §urüd limb bradyte in ſcinem Šeſlite (soo'-ruck unt brach'-te in cy'-nen hel'-me back and brought in his helmet bent $)"ajor belt Qūčetrttuf. Gºdyneſſ dame mah-yo,'e' dame lah'-be-trunk shºnell to the major the refreshing drink. Quickly retfit tºut bet faſt perſdymadfete" 7'ysste cem, dare fasst fer-shmach'-te-te tears him the almost Oxhausted SOffišter beit $50ſnt quá ber ºamb ºutb off-tsee,' danc helm om'ss dare hant unt officer the helmet out of the hand and trinft, pergißt (iber feinen frclien trimkt fer-ffissi’ ah'-her zy'-men tºo/-en drink, forgets however his faithful 448 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Şteiter midt, umb ſagt: ,3)], nimmt unb º,*::::: compound words, *:::::::::::::::::he oy'-ter nicht unt algº, dah, num Qūnt Filieſiąche, a pond or surface of water; hence the trooper not, and says, “There, take and º * ... Yº Y ! // g Word “lake.” * º; º 3. º ; .# º; * Voll includes the ideas expressed in English by )”,72/2, O70:0/0, oc/v aare 7'y'-te * 4 grº “of”: voll Wunden, voll Weisheit, voll Zorn, full of drink also.” But the trooper breathes foll yund-en foll vice-hite foll tsorn fölper unb rödjeſt” umb ſtilpeigf. 9tpd) wº fºul %; Here again shrao'e unt roech/-elt unt shrygt moch dare ferrº-shmach'-te-te of fee-tseerr' heavily and gasps, and is silent. Yet verschmachtet means languishing away, almost dead. eimm ai ſa gt ber S)? dj OT : §§ett, trimfe * Das ºrally means the rattle in the throat • , m****, * dass roechſ-eln ine'-mal sagt dare mah-yore' vite tº inke | that precedes death. Uhland, the German poet, says: once says the major “Veit, drink | Wie ein letztes, ººlº, in lººr, aft, ºr gºt | w/ 15 id}t * yee ine lets-tes roechº-eln in lair'-re luft ferr-howcht' bu aud, 1" Qer beburſte” eg midt meſºr “Like a last death-rattle in empty air breathed out.” doo ovch, dare be-doorf’-te ess might main.” thou also.” He required it not more: ſein paupt ſant pieber 31 Soben, et zyme hompt zank ree'-der tsoo boh'-den airr his head sank again to the ground, he hyar tobt. 9tur (jott fomte iſjmt bte van toat mur gott konn'-te eem dee was dead. Only God could to him the Stettung ſeineš Šſtajørð , pergeſtem.” aret'-tung zy'-mes mah-yores' ferr-ffe!’-ten preservation of his major reward. REMARKS ON THE FOREGOING STUDY. * Der Reiter, originally the rider, afterwards applied dare ry'-terr to military affairs; die Reiterei, the cavalry. From dee ry'-te-r the word Reiter came Ritter, a knight; as the French rit/-terr We chevalier, the knight, came from le cheval. * Lieferten, from inf. lićfern, imperf. ich lieferée, past leeſ-ferr-ten lee-ferrn ich lee-ferr-te part. geliefert, to deliver. ge-lee'-ferrt * Die Schlacht, the battle, from the verb schlagen shlah'-genn (imperf. Ich schlug, past part. geschlagen), to strike, from ich shlooch ge-shlah'-gen which we have the English, to slay (Islew, slain). In the modern German to slay is todt schlagen, to strike (lead. * Die JCaiserstadt, from der Kaiser, the emperor die ky'-zer-statt (Caesar); and die Stadt, the town. * Soldaten, from der Soldat, the soldier. zoll-dah'-ten (lare Zoll'-daht, comes from Sold, “pay,” and means a man who is This Word zolla hired to fight. Schiller makes the great leader Wallenstein say: Und sein Sold musz dem Soldaten unt Zime zolla musz dame zol-dah'-ten werden, damach heisst er, “And his pay must to wairr’-den, dah'-nach hysst airr the soldier be (given), therefrom is he named.” ° Der Major : names denoting military rank and dare mah-yore" Imilitary arrangements and discipline are, in German, as in English (battalion, cavalry, colonel, parade) frequently taken from the French. Such words are accented, as in French, on the last syllable (Offizier). - of-fee-tSeerrº Nſaior literally means the elder, the senior among the Captains. " Die Ohmmacht, faint, or the fainting fit; from ohme, dee own’-macht OWn’-e without, and die Macht, the might or power—the state in which a person is powerless. * Lechzen (imperf. Ich lechzfe, past part. gelechtzf) is lechts/-en ich lechts/-te ge-lechtst applied only to the idea of thirst. Ich lechze is often ‘‘I thirst.” * verschmachten, like lechzen, means to languish, but ferr-schmach'-ten - in a more general sense. The prefix ver has here the meaning, away,+to languish away, or to perish. “Das Haupt and der Kopf both mean the head; * Bedwrfte is the imperfect tense of bedürfen, to be-doorf’-te be-duerf’-en require. It is often used with the genitive case— Ich bedurfte dessen micht, I required not (of) that. ich be-doorf’-te des-Sen nicht * The verb gelten, in German, means literally to gelt'-en have value: thus, vergelten is to give or return the value, and die Vergeltung is often used for retribution. DXIII. THE STAFT NOTATION.—TRANSITION. WE have already, in Chapter VII., explained the musical fact of transition, or change of key. We have shown how beautifully tº ſº º it alters the “colour" of the Transition. sounds with which the ear is being filled. We have explained that it is one of the commonest musical effects, hardly any piece, even a hymn- tune or a popular song, being without this pleasing and natural device. There will be no need to explain over again to the student who has mastered the fact of transition, what is the natural sequence of keys: how a Fe denotes the sharp or dominant key, to the right of the modulator ; and how a Ta denotes the flat or subdominant key, to the left of the modulator. When, in the course of a piece of music, the key is thus changed, the usual plan in the staff notation is to keep the old signa- ture, and alter the new notes onc º: %d by one as they occur. This is ac- “... complished by the help of sharps and flats, and a sign called a “natural” (1), which destroys the action of a previous sharp or flat, and restores the note to its place in the key of the signature. The mode of using “ac- cidentals,” as they are called, will be seen from the subjoined :— #º-Hart-b-HE-b-i-HT3 *zºº." Hº-EE. H 22- ###### ==== m fes m fes d tall, d' tal In the first case the raising of Fah into Fæ is effected by a sharp, the note on which it occurs (D) being “natural” in the key, and therefore capable of having a sharp or a flat applied to it. In the second case eur Fe comes upon the dass howpt dare koppf but das Haupt is the graver term of the two. It is thus always used for “head” in the German Bible, } ... — sº * ſ WARD & LOCK'S UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR 00NTAINS ALL NECESSARY DIRECTIONS FOR ACQUIRING PROFICIENCY IN THE FOLLOWING AMONG 07HER SUBJEGTS : Algebra, ANATOMY : Animal. Comparative. Human. Arithmetic. Astronomy. Biography. Book-keeping. Botany. " Chemistry. CoMMERCE : History. Practice. Drawing, Electricity. Elocution. English Grammar. English Literature. Ethnology. ExPERIMENTAL PHILo- soPHY: Magnetism. Electricity. Galvanism. Heat. Light. t Chemistry, Sound. Meteorology, &c. &c. FINE ARTs:, Drawing. Perspective. Sketching from Na- N ture: { Music. Singing. , French Language. French Literature. Galvanism. GEographY; Physical. Political. Y * \ PRICE Twº NTY.FIVE CENT'S MONTHLY. is Y 24 A- & > 3 * { { - * *- Geology. Geometry. German Language. German Literature. Greek Language. Greek Literature, Health. Heat. HISTORY : Ancient. Sacred. Mediaeval. Modern. Great Britain Ireland. Hydrostatics. Italian Language. Italian Literature. Land-surveying. and LANGUAGES : Ancient— Latin. Greek. Modern— French. German. Italian. Spanish. Latin Language. Latin Literature. Light. LITERATURE : Ancient— Roman. Greek. Modern— English. | French. German. | \ ! Italian. Spanish. ~, º, Y tº . ; & *** **, * +--—a. I QF-º-º-º: v- Logarithms. Machines & Machinery. Magnetism. MATHEMATICs : Arithmetic. Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry, &c. MECHANICAL PHILO. SOPHY : Mechanics. Hydrostatics. Hydraulics. Pneumatics. Mensuration. Meteorology. Mineralogy. Music. NATURAL HISTORY : Mineralogy. Geology. Botany. Zoology. Animal Physiology. Human Physiology. Vegetable Physiology Comparative Ana- tomy, &c. Perspective. Physiology, Animal. Physiology, Human. Pneumatics. Reading. Shorthand. Singing. Sketching from Nature, Sound. Spanish Language. Spanish Literature. Trigonometry. Writing. Zoology. l NEW YORK: THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY. J ~ * $ ; , ; * * - - \ *A. * $ § —r- * • -------- r * ------ J * : * ~, r—r- *r =P--a r f 7 º a Twº SOME OPINIONS OF THE BRITISH PRESS WARD AND LOCKS r- 2’ *, Universal IllSIII(101. { This Work has been reviewed by a very large number of Newspapers and Literary and } Educational Periodicals throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland, and in all cases favourably. The following are a few selections :— “THE WORK IS EXCELLENT, AND IT IS TO BE “It promises to be a work of undoubted merit, HOPED IT MAY MEET witH THE POPULARITY IT | and of real value. . . . . We predict for it much DESERVES.”—The Athenaeum. acceptance by those who desire to acquire learning 4 & 5 L, | and to become well-informed men.”—the Educa: We have waited to see the second part before | .onal Chronicle. ºca expressing an opinion upon “Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor; or, Self-Culture for all,' and “All the subjects are treated in an easy, simple, find the promise of the opening more than fulfilled clear, comprehensive manner; and from a carefuſi now that the subjects are beginning to advance, perusal of the present part, we can safely recom. . . . . The various authors have evidently laboured mend the work as one of sterling merit.” Z-Dangee to condense the . . i. information | Courier. into their lessons, and while helping beginners, they { { & © in no way overlook the requirements of students mº, ". wº º #. º: . the who need higher instruction. The comprehensive jear, and is expressed in § si . *d". i. i. excellence of the work is combined with cheap- language, that every one may learn himself W. ness, and thus it offers an undoubted boon to those knºw ..., bett. ... f.s elf-cultivation, and it ill who wish to enrich their minds and improve their form a good library in itself when compi º position by self-culture."—London Daily Chronicle. Dºdge jºy. completed.” – “We are pleased with this first part, and can £ 4 -> --~~~ : xxx…, x-a- f imagine the wealth of advantage which many young u..."...ºnly Prº Yºº and Lock's students will gain from its use. It is well printed 11 º Žtor.' . . . . . It will be a treasure on good paper of a handy sizé. . . . . It is a very §: ...º. ; º i. the nd useful publication."—The Christiah * * * ºne publication is fully main- %. and . p tained in the current issue.”—Boston Guardian. “The first number is a storehouse of knowledge º - in itself, and at the first start a good selection of | Provide for a son or a daughter of studious turn.”- subjects are dealt with. The contributors include The Chelmsford Chronicle, some of the best known men in their various de- “So worthy of popular estimation does it seem partments of knowledge. . . . . . . The work pro: | to us, that we are convinced that if one number is mises to be one difficult to excel as a means, of purchased the whole series will be taken, and it imparting educational knowledge for everyone.”- cannot be too highly spoken of.”—Eas; Anglian The Derby Telegraph. Daily Times. ** * “We can heartily recommend this new publica- “The more we see of this periodical, the more tion to all who are desirous of self-culture; the deeply are we impressed with its merits.”—D. contributions, as well as the illustrations, are all fries Advertiser. *~ good.”—Sheffield Telegraph. “There will never cease to be many fields and “The work, which is well got up, is an important abundant scope for self-instruction, and always a and valuable addition to the educational literature large number of students to whom such a work win ( “A more useful work than this no man could of the day.”—Bristol Mercury. * be a welcome boon.”—School Board chronicle. “We do not hesitate to say that the Universal “One of the most valuable publications that has Instructor, when completed, will; to those who' ever issued from the press as a help and guide for , || carefully study, its pages, prove, to be one of the young men, in mental education is 7 Ward and --- greatest educational blessings which have emanated | Lock's, Universal Instructor.' . . . . The work is from any publishing firm. ... . . We should rejoice admirably and, pópularly edited, and ought to be ! to know that this most valuable work was to be universally appreciated.”—Thé Christian jºi." | found in eyery family.”—Derbyshire Gazette. “The size is to our mind the best and handiest 'k. Y. “We feel assured that the publication will be that could be chosen, while the printing and if. productive of much good, as it appears to be admir: | trations are beautifully done, and the whole. part i ably adapted to the requirements of all classes of recalls in form that marvel of cheapness and 'style . students.”—Western Daily Mercury, , - || “Scribner's Monthly.'"—The Farmer. * | •r- * 3. * *, * A. - i 4. t { { w * f łºr NEW YORK THE INTERNATIONAL NEws company. . . . - - - - – ‘. → m . . . . == .” ... , -", -ºr- i º- * <: -e’ , 2. *N º \ era ere sº sº. R. As ºs Cº-º-º-º: * * U To accºro - * < * a.º.º.º.º. w ： ſaeº， ra §§： ººaeaeae ſaeſſºſº?） !$$$$$$$$ (） ſººſ №. |Price 25 Cents. ∞∞∞：C ºſſºſ§©®.© §8%;};}&&$ſ; Œ -" ، ، ، šº“，3% ）№， №è. ſººſ ſºſiºſº 3:{{{3}};{{&&&&&&#ffº {{{2，}$áſ 0 ſºos ©83，8% ：£8º8%2） ######## -º-º-º: ". . . . . . C Cºxº C � ą##| s Wºe ſ º Nºrºº E- ſae∞∞∞*****^*（（?！~. Œ828%28R.∞∞∞\， ●:R™§§ º 22 Tºº - --~- &{<á №(） Œ čººſſſſſſſſſºſ№ae,ºſèſſºrſº， №8PR§§RH， ſeºſººººººººººPºç№ſſaesºs№šºſſſſſſſFÈ™2Œ &&##&#######№， №iiºſł *：ſººſ ！= ）; |×]№ſſºſ } a 'D - Yºs, w e){s-— ** exy"ULL *ILLUSTRATE AGENTS FOR AMERICA THE INTERNATIONAL NEWs company, 29 and 31, Beekman Street, New York. []ſwae， ºfwraeJ §§§§$$$$$$$$$$$*（?：F，ïFºtº§ . ſºsºïſă （№ž;}$$§§§§§ÊŞ，8|| :2：§§\tº、、、、、、、、、、、、、、) |ק§§|（8:888$2，$88|| ∞ √≠ √∞ √°-. sºſ§§§§,4€Œ8£ſº§ 88 J· • × ≤∞ √≠ √© ſ №&}D[…] aeœ ŒC ŒR ± ±،№=№}§§ r.ºrº， №vaerſº sº č §§§§§§§§§ź}H **~*~esº，ſae|-！ºv，æ：）… c „º ： •a ºe … •C(_S -C ſuae-－-）№ffſ*№， №8:ſſaeºſ@53，ºſ:|| […]Cº ºſº e ºs）)C C§§----TOE £|| O ∞Ģ·ſ \; Cſi || • ）, ºœ Œ：� ſºſ ſººſ į: aeſt55§§ 8| gyſí ſ §|||（│ │ | ? |#|!• ∞ }••!, ∞C №（~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~=?！?！?！§§24，j §$%22%2B%22%??55;&#$№cae ، ،• • • • • •º aeae .|•• BS%22%8C%:32582），（8，8×8， 28;0| 0Q©�| §§§）;$2Ƅ&#$%$§${{{{{ſ{{{{ſ{{{833'， # ! ~º： …，-3）!！！！!！！！!！！！|i E（~）, '·|→ų 0 ， |ae© (O !!!� A LCEE RA ANATO MY ARCH TECTURE ARTH METIC ASTRON, O MY ºf QCRAPHY Œ œ، ، ، ،∞· · * * * 25.º.º.º.º.º 22， 25 % º º 22 ºſº （2，3），（2，（2，3，\ Sae： ----◄ Complete in 39 Monthly Parts. º *- * \ ~ THE NEW SERIAL FOR SELF-EDUCATORs. Forming the Cheapest and most Useful Work ever issued for the People. f } PRICE 25 CENTs, MONTHLY. * W A R D & LOC K’S NVESL INSTRUTH, r, Self-Culture for All. *...* With PART 1, is PRESENTED GRATIS a Valuable CHART OF THE HISTORY of THE worDD, and with PART III, a CHART illustrating the INTELLECTUAL AND MATERIAL PROGRESS OF THE WORLD. 2" \ # RECOGNISING the progressive spirit of the age, and the demand that exists for carefully prepared literature suited to the wants of Self-Educators, WARD, LOCK & Co. have prepared a Serial Work of an exhaustive character under the above title. It will be a Complete AEncyclopædia of Zearning, meeting the requirements of Students of all classes, and characterised by such features as will, the Publishers confidently believe, give it a marked superiority over every similar undertaking. The comprehensive- ness of its plan, the thorough execution of its details, the number of its illustrations, the convenience of its size, and the cheapness of its price cannot fail to secure for it a prominent position. IT CANNOT BE TOO OFTEN REPEATED that a good education is a fortune, and the best of all fortunes. If the ignorant would succeed in the world they must betake themselves to study, for, in these days of competition and examination, to neglect learning is to court failure, Hence naturally arises the enquiry, What can we do to improve ourselves so as to compete on better terms with those around, not only in business but in social life? This enquiry the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR undertakes to anSWer, t i THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is nothing short of a University at Home, and will admirably suit those who, hampered by slender means or prevented by the inconveniences of distance or of time, are unable personally to attend any of our great seats of learning, | At the same time, the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR does not overlook the wants of those more fortunately situated. . It contains exact information on every subject likely to be useful to those able to take advantage of existing educational machinery. v THE SUBJECTs treated of in the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTeR cover the whole field of knowledge. They extend, as will be seem from the list given on page 3, from the most elementary to the most advanced, and, taken together, form a £erfect system of Zntellectual Culture. The latest thought of the time, and all modern inventions and discoveries, find adequate representation ; and whilst we would avoid pretending to convert labour into recreation, we have no hesitation in affirming that our lessons will prove eminently lively and interesting. | ‘. * THE WRITERs will be found in every way qualified to impart instruction on the topics with which they deal, and in nothing, the Publishers feel much satisfaction in pointing out, is the UNIVERSAL' INSTRUCTOR more conspicuous than in the tried ability of its educational staff. |\ THE ILLUSTRATIONS are to be numbered by hundreds, and may be depended upon as aCCurate and authentic. But the OBJECT of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR is not only to impart learning and make well. informed men. It has been kept in view that the great end of knowledge should be to enable us to jº wiser and better lives. The UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, endeavours to exercise a refining and elevating influence, and will fall far short of its intention if, whilst making students, it fails to create enthusiasts for beauty and truth. i SUCH, then, being the OBJECTS and such the PLAN of the UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, the Publishers confidently rely on the support of all interested—and who is not?—in the elevation of the people, the spread of sound instruction, and the encouragement of honourable ambition. No one will be slow to promote a work with aims so practical and aspirations, so elevated. \ ; “afinge aſ things, study. QRIbetber for the sake ºf Icariting ur for amp other reasºn, gtung. Afar tubatcher the mutiñes that impel putt at first, gou will geru gumi Igae stung for its d'un flake.” º 13° For Zist of º; included in THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, see gage 3, and for Opinions of the British Press, see £age 4 of this cover. NEW YORK : THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY., r } * h MUSIC. - 449 note A, which has already been flattened by may occur. It also holds good for any octave the signature, and needs therefore only to have of the note. An accidental does not hold good the action of the flat suspended by a natural. for the next measure unless it is repeated, In the third case the Ta is expressed by a flat, except that if an accidental is placed against as A, the note on which it occurs, is natural in the last note of a measure, it is sometimes the signature. But in the fourth case C, the understood to be continued, especially if the line on which Ta stands, is already sharpened note is tied across the bar. in the signature, and we must therefore restore Sometimes, especially if the key changes with it by a natural, not a flat. A natural, therefore, a change of time and movement, the whole Taises a note which has been flattened by the sig- || signature will be changed. But - nature, and loners one which has been sharpened. the general custom is not to ...º. An accidental sharp, flat, or naturai’ holds change the signature til the end ** Accidentals, good for the whole of the mea- of the movement. * sure in which it is placed unless Translate into the staff notation, treble clef, contradicted, however often the note it affects a minim to a pulse, the following exercise :— REY D, |*|| :f |- ** ** **** :- |. :- | *|| :- |* - |. :f |- * ... ??? . . . . . . . . . . . | *| |* ***** *| |*|*|| || |*|**** The student must carefully distinguish between singer or player. Thus, in the following chant, accidentals that are of real effect, and those the only accidentals strictly required by rule which are merely put in as a caution to the are two :— I)R. CROTCH. ſ] * } ] l h 1 24-4------|--|--e—E-Hº-EFF-E-HHH ÓHºHa HºHºº H=H •) | [- | |- | T i KEY G. m :— | 1 :fe s : — | r :— | f :m | r :r d : — d :r tl — | tal:— | 11th :d d :t, d :– But some composers, to avoid the possibility of mistake, would mark the return to the old key by a cautionary natural and sharp to Fah and Te respectively — - Q__# | | | n | ZTºf Lºſ I.I.TI | I L. | | sº- €2 -Y —h —I - *$ºrº-H- — —G– - *-* - @H=########F====FF J | I- |- T | | Those who are not aware of this custom may ###: — -HI-I-II possibly become confused. The singer must #E T 2-Tu. TIT; bear in mind what notes have aiready been —x E=#EEEE|| sharpened or flattened by the signature, and J then he will see that in key G, a natural to C and a sharp to Frnean ordinary notes of the scale. - W] t] • - - - º • - s 3, * . #. º º”. But how is a double sharp to be contradicted 7 º ifti & Suppose we wish to write Ray after Re, when A difficulty. i. º º º #"; Jºe is expressed by a double sharp 7 We must sharps), and want to write Re, the sharp of destroy the effect of the ºuble sharp, by Bay. If the reader looks at the natural ; but as a reminder that the note is still #= signature given at the side, he sharp in the signature, we follow the natural E will see that Ray (Fsharp) is by a sharp – - already sharpened in the signa- || || 0 tº # ture, and, being once sharpened, EZ ºff- t agai harp to it. We th Zºtºti.T – – EEEſ we cannot again use a sharp to it. € the TG- #=4========E=H KEY E. m:re:m s:—ife m:—:— fore use a new sign called a “double sharp.’” X), which raises by a semitome - - - - $º note already * 'myith a m :re :m | r :—:ti | d || sharp. Do not imagine that as a sharp raises The opposite difficulty is encountered in keys a note a semitone, a double sharp has twice the which have many flats in the signature, leading power, and raises it a whole tone in the key. to the use of a double flat, for Double flats This is not so. The sign can only be used for which there is no special sign, “” notes already sharpened, and these it only two flats being used instead. The following is raises half a tone. Here is an example:— an example:— - WOL. I. 29 Double sharps, 450 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. #EE f 5. |TTL=. called Te unless it is immediately contradicted A == #E-fºil by Fah. SP----- F-T— TT Ta means the first flat key, and should be KEY * | * * ºl, tº :— || In singing the staff notation from the movable Doh, as all who have followed these instructions and exercises will do, the task is easy So long as the music does not change key rapidly and remotely. But for sudden and distant transi- tions, the singer must be ready Sudden and dis- with his rules. It is a mistake tant transition to imagine that it is a defect in the movable Doh system that makes it require thought and care at these places of change. The difficulty is in the music, not in the movable Doh. Singing with reference to the key (in other words, by the movable Doh) is the most intelligent and Teliable way of reading the staff notation. Singers who do not adopt this plan, but use the fixed Doh, by no means escape the difficulty which the movable doh-ist finds. They are indeed plunged into greater difficulties and uncer- tainties. The following rules may be given for recog- Rul nising accidentals, and finding €S, the Doh when the key changes:— Jº means the first sharp key, and should be º, called Fah, unless it is immediately contra- dicted by Te. Se means the relative minor, and requires no alteration in the Sol-faing. De means the relative minor of the first flat key, and should be called Se. Re means the relative minor of the first sharp key, and should be called Se. These are the common transitions into re- lated keys, and will carry the student through hymn-tunes, chants, and simple music generally. Bear in mind that when the transition is a short one, say for two measures or less, it is simpler to sacrifice the real truth of notation, and not to shift the syllables, but to use Fe, Ta, De, Re, etc. In music of a light and playful character, such as dances and operas, great use is made of ornamental chromatic tones, which do not change the key but have a sort of piquancy as substitutes for the ordinary tones of the scale. The singer must learn to distinguish these from the real signs of transition. Here, for instance, is a passage from Sullivan’s “H.M.S. Pinafore,” which actually begins with one of these orna- mental chromatics, and has several afterwards. Yet it is all in the key of E from first to last :— Ornamental chromatic tones, #: ===s=NT===S s—-ºf-fa–N-- NF-NTN h. ############# *Hºº-Hº-Hº-E J ſ\ g—it lº NEPTs The F6 in measures 1 and 2 is contradicted by Fah in measure 3 ; the Re in measure | 3 is contradicted by Ray in measure 5 ; the De in measure 5 is contradicted by Doh, in measure 6; and the phrase ends with a characteristic cadence in key E. All the chro- | matic notes, not excepting Se, are used in this way. The rule for recognising these orna- ments is, LOOK ON. If an accidental is repeated through several measures, wherever the same note occurs, no doubt the key is changed. But if it is not repeated, or contradicted, it is an ornament, or a very brief transition. § *:::: g sº KEY TO EXERCISES-II. EXERCISE VI. (page 102). 1. Before the invention of paper, one (people) wrote upon tablets laid over with wax, on the barks of trees, and upon skins. 2. History is the portrait of men and times. , 3. Pytha- goras believes (believed) that God is a soul diffused in all beings in nature, and from which human souls are drawn. 4. The arts (fine arts) are children of riches and of the mildness of the government (of rulers). 5. Do you wish to be happy for a day's span (a whole day), wear a new coat ; for a week, kill a pig; for a month, gain a law-suit ; for a year, marry (lit. marry yourself); do you wish to be so all your life, be (an) honest man. (Eastern proverb.) 6. Good wives are all in the churchyard (i.e., they are to be found no- where else. Old proverb.) 7. De la Roche- foucauld's maxims are the proverbs of clever people. 8. The habits of public life in use (found) among free nations have this advan- tage, that the truth pierces in spite of the interests and conventionalities which might advise to hide it (which might suggest the advisability of hiding it). 9. L'histoire des plus grands princes est Souvent le récit des fautes des hommes. 10. On ne doit ni la boussole à un marin, ni le télescope à un astronome, ni le microscope à. un physicien, ni l'imprimerie à un homme de lettres. Ta plupart de ces inventions sont dues au hasard. 11. L'étude est avantageuse à l'esprit ; l'adversité est utile à l'ame; l’ex- périence est nécessaire aux hommes. 12. On vit des généraux lever un siège et perdre une ville pour avoir une relique. 13. Jean- aux-Veaux faisait semblant, le jour, d’avoir R'RENC'H Gº RAMMA R. 451 peur d'un veau, et, la nuit, il allait voler des boeufs. 14. Le vieux maréchal de Trivulce disait : * Il faut trois choses pour bien faire la guerre : de l'argent, encore del'argent, et toujours de l'argent. 15. Le fameux apophthègme de Danton, * De l'audace, encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace," est d'une date plus récente. 16. Un grand nombre de peuples ont un mets favori ; on connaît le cresson des anciens Perses, le couscoussou des Arabes, les nids d'hirondelles des Chinois, le caviar des Russes, le plum-pudding des Anglais, l'olla- podrida des Espagnols, la choucroute des Allemands, la bouillabaisse des Marseillais. N'oublions pas le brouet noir des Spartiates. EXERCISE VII. (page 143). I. The uncle of the butcher's wife is a grocer ; he has many groceries in his shop. 2. What a quantity of flour my aunt's miller has ! 3. Has the dairywoman any cream-cheeses ? 4. She has no cheeses, but she has excellent butter, fresh butter and powdered butter. 5. Are you the nephew of the fruiterer (f.) who keeps so many fruits (much fruit) and vegetables at the market ? 6. She is not my aunt ; it is the miller's wife who is my aunt. 7. My god- father's grocer ( f.) sells better chocolate and better tea than you. 8. Where does one find such beautiful bacon and such beautiful lard ? At my godmother's butcher's. 9. You are children ; one does not sell petroleum and matches to children. 10. Have you much pepper, salt. and mustard ? 1l. We have little pepper and much salt, but we have no mustard. 12. The cook's niece has as many wax candles as (tallow) candles, but she has no matches. 13. Has John white bread or brown bread ? 14. He has neither white bread nor brown bread ; he has black bread and whey. 15. The dairywoman sells eggs and butter ; she does not sell any chocolate. 16. One finds chocolate as well as coffee, tea, oil, and vinegar, at the grocer's. 17. They have good white bread, excellent fresh butter, and big eggs. 18. I buy little bacon, still less lard, but much butter. 19. Mrs. Durand, have you any veal cutlets (cutlets of veal), any mutton chops (chops of mutton), and lamb kidneys (kidneys of lamb) ? 20. How many candles hast thou ? I have scarcely any (tallow) candles, but I have many Wax candles. EXERCISE VIII. (page 143). 1. J'ai du vinaigre : tu as de l'huile ; il a du sel ; elle a du poivre. 2. Jean a de bon vinaigre ; Jeanne a d'excellente huile ; le bou- cher a de bon sel ; nous avons de meilleur poivre. 3. Vous avez du beurre frais ; ils ont du pain rassis ; monsieur et madame Durand ont des petits pains ; le fruitier et la fruitière ont du beurre mi-sel. 4. Ai-je plus de bœuf que Louise ? As-tu assez de mouton ? A-t-il moins de porc que Paul ? Monsieur (or M., mever Mons.) Dupont a-t-il autant de côtelettes que madame (or Mme, never Mdme.) Durand ? 5. Nous avons moins d'œufs que le meunier, mais le meunier a moins de fromages à la crème que nous. 6. Vous n'avez pas de viande ; ils n'ont pas de bœuf; les parents n'ont pas de pain ; les enfants n'ont pas de gâteaux. 7. Jeanne n'est pas la sœur d'un homme qui vend du bœuf et du mouton. 8. Que de porc et de mouton ! 9. Avez-vous du saindoux, Mme Durand ? Oui, monsieur. 10. J'achète les côtelettes de veau chez Mme Dupont, jamais chez le boucher de ma cousine Jeanne. 1l. Paul tient toujours plus de beurre et d'œufs que la laitière. 12. M. Dupont, le boulanger de mon père, ne tient pas de pain rassis ; son pain est toujours tendre. 13. Le gruau est-il de la farine ? Oui, c'est de la farine. 14. La cuisinière achète des biscuits chez le pâtissier. 15. Mon boulanger vend plus de petits pains et de gâteaux que de pain et de farine. 16. Qui vend de la levure ? Le boulanger vend-il de la levure ? Le boulanger ne vend pas de levure. 17. Le brasseur a-t-il du beurre frais et du beurre salé de ma laitière ? 18. Il n'a ni beurre frais ni beurre salé ; il a des œufs. 19. L'enfant a trop de moutarde et trop peu de sel. 20. Avez-vous assez de légumes ? J'ai assez de légumes, mais j'ai trop peu de fruits. EXERCISE IX. (page 166). 1. Fruits, almonds, hazel-nuts, beech-nuts, and acorns are the squirrel's usual food. 2. Because I have no lictors, am I the less Sulla (for it) ? 3. The cave-dwellers (Troglodytes) were more like beasts than men. 4. As many heads, so many opinions. 5. She has no rela- tives, no support, no riches. 6. The earth re- sembles large tablets upon which every one wishes to write his name. 7. One never does any service to God by causing harm to His creatures. 8. Let us propose to ourselves grand examples to imitate rather than vain systems to follow. 9. More greatness contains more mothingness. 10. Many people do promise, few lknow how to perform. l. Tous les lacs de la haute Italie sont, comme ceux de la Suisse, de creuses vallées, où les eaux des montagnes se sont accumulées jusqu'à ce qu'elles aient rencontré, dans la cein- ture des rochers et des terres, l'échancrure paT où elles se sont échappées en donnant naissance à des fleuves. Ceux de la péninsule, au con- traire, remplissant d'anciens cratères ou des bassins encaissés entre des montagnes, n'ont point d'émissaires naturels, et menacent souvent d'inonder, après les longues pluies ou à la fonte des neiges, les campagnes voisines (V. Duruy). 2. Comment peut-on, par rapport à Dieu et même à l'humanité, garder tant d'or, tant d'argent, tant de meubles, tant de pierreries, au milieu de l'extrême misère des pauvres dont on était accablé dans ces derniers temps ? (Mme de Sévigné.) EXERCISE x. (page 190). Le ris, pleurs, m., la respiration, le soupir, le gémissement, le sanglot, un éternuement, le hoquet, un état, une action, le mouvement, le repos, la voix, la beauté, la laideur, la santé, la grandeur, un embonpoint, la maigreur, un aiT, le port, le teint, la constitution, le son, le goût, la saveur, le rat, le chat, une odeur, le toucher, le souvenir, la raison, un entendement, le sens, un oubli, la vertu, la volonté, un esprit, le remords, le repentir, le sommeil, la foi, le 452 THE UNITVERSAI, IWSTRUCTOR. soupçon, le désespoir, le plaisir, la douleur, une affliction, la fierté, la pitié, un merci, le souhait, le serf, le parfum, le bain, le serin, le buisson, la toison, le torchon, un acier, un arrosoir, atours, m., le prix, le four, le foret, le bruit, la maison, le rapport, le dard, le saindoux, le lard, le nez, le Tiz, le houx, un aveu, le pli, un alléluia, un appui, le support, un *tau, la douceur, le toit, le fandango, le cou, le tilbury. ExERCISE XI. (page 234). 1. We had coffee-with-milk and tea. 2, Has he no liqueurs in his shop 7 3. There are ices for the boys and sherbets for the girls. 4. The chil- dren are thirsty ; they will have (bottled) lemonade or iced water. 5. Will the wine-merchant have Sherry and port 7 6. He will have neither Spanish nor Madeira wines. , 7. She had neither wine, norbeer, nor liqueurs. 8. You would have common red Wine and old white wine. 9, Will they not have brandy and gin 7 10. Here is almond-milk for my grandfather, tea for the women, and cider for the men. 11. Mr. Dupont, is it claret or bur- te gundy that you have 7 12. My madeira is an excellent dinner-wine. 13. Mr. Durand,(a) wine- merchant, sells French, Spanish, Hungarian, and Rhenish wines. 14. I had mineral water ; thou hadst no seltzer water ; had he iced water ? had we no beer 7 had they no coffee- with-milk 7 15. You will have much Small beer; she will have little pear-wine; they will have no old wine ; will they not have any sparkling wine? 16. The best French wines are claret, cham- pagne, and burgundy. 17. What is tisa/ne de champagne 2 It is a slightly sparkling wine, 18. I was right; would he be wrong 7 let him be sleepy or not. 19. If thou be thirsty, here is small beer or common wine. 20. What is the mat- ter with thee?—There is nothing the matter with me. Art thou not hungry?—I am neither hungry nor thirsty ; I am sleepy, that is all. XV. THE FLOWER (continued). IN the petals of flowers we are shown na- ture's entire repertory of colours. The plum- age of tropical birds, the elytra of tropical FIG. 7S.–1. OxCELOVE. FIG. 79.—com MON BRAMBLE. beetles, the wings of butterflies, the deep-dyed gems and crystals dug out of the earth, all added together, do not supply a more wonder- ful and delicate aggregate of hues. Some of the beetles excel in lustre, and crystals are unapproachable in point of translucency : it is in flowers, after all, that nature shows us that the resources of her palette are not merely rich, but, as far as the word can be permitted to be applied to temporal things, in- finite. The stamens are the delicate OT- gans which stand just within the petals, or if no petals be developed, º just The stamens. within the calyx. It is only in the relatively small number of flowers which, having the pistils elsewhere, come under the general designation of “unisexual” that the stamens occupy the very centre of the floral system,-in Begonias, for instance,— So that, as a rule, they are found most easily. Variety the most wonderful and charming, pertains to these Organs. They vary endlessly (in dif- ferent plants) in number, dimen- Sions, degree of freedom, colour, and general features. These diversified conditions being unchangeable, in the stamens are found some of the very best distinguishing characters of flowers; they are often most valuable auxiliaries also in the establishment of botanical families. The three great types of perianth structure— trimerous, tetramerous, and pentamerous, above described—lead us to anticipate something similar in the numbers of the stamens, and this proves to be the case. There are in- finitely more plants with exactly three, four or five stamens, and their respective doubles, six, eight, and ten, than of any other numbers; and the de- partures from these figures, when the num- ber does not exceed ten, are always, as in the case of anomalous perianths, referable to some kind of non- development. Nature seems to take an odd kind of delight in sometimes running down a long series. Thus, in the beautiful family which contains the Fuchsia and the evening-primrose, we find, through successive withholdings, the steady descent marked by eight, four, two, one. The orchids, being endogenous plants, are normally three-stamened; here, however, non- development is so general that in the great majority of the Species only a single stamen can be said to come to maturity ; and the same is the case with the admirable race which includes the plants to which we are indebted for arrow- BOTA WY. 453 root and ginger. A very lovely little English wild-flower, one of the bijoute)"ie of our island, the Thientalis, a member of the Primrose family, seemingly not satisfied with the almost uni- versal five, tries ambitiously to produce ten, but breaks down at Seven. In several very extensive and important families there is a prodigious augmentation in the number of stamens. Look, for instance, into the heart of a buttercup or a wild rose, or of a poppy, or a water-lily, and the capacity of increase seems to have no limit. In hawthorn, the apple, pear, cherry, straw- berry, and many” besides, the number is not so overwhelm- ing, but still very considerable. Why such numerical dis- proportion should exist, no botanist has ever attempted to conjecture. Fruit and seed are produced and ripened with equal ease whether the sta- mens be only one or two, or developed by scores or hundreds. The orchids, which, as just now said, seldom possess more than a Solitary perfect sta- , men, are the most wonderfully fecund of all flowering-plants whatever. The seed falls from the capsules like a cloud of delicate dust : the quantity is approached only by the spores of mosses. Contrariwise, in the paeony, there is only one seed to every ten or twelve of the abounding stamens. When perfectly de- veloped, a stamen Stº, balanced by the middle, anthers are called, “versatile.” Examples quite as pretty, though? the dimensions of the parts are much inferior, occur in the common honeysuckle and in grasses, Ordinarily, the anther is unable to move, pre- senting itself simply as a little knob, which is either “innate ” or “adnate.” Charming illus- trations are discoverable without the slightest difficulty. Fuchsias, poppies, hawthorns, and a thousand others stand waiting to be examined. The filament corresponds to the petiole of the leaf, and thus allows of being quite conveniently dispensed with, though the omission always implies a lessening of #he artis- tic beautyºgof the flower. The difference in beauty caused by the omission is quite as marked as; that between the pavy of a dog or a cat #eom- pared with the inex- pressible loveliness of the human hand, When devoid of ºp- porting stalks, an- thers, like leaf-blades similarly conditioned, are said to be “sessile,” and in this case they are always found at- tached to theinner sur- face of the perianth. Minute examination shows that they owe their “sessile ” cha- racter to the adhesion of their filaments to the parts against which they lean, a raised line generally indicating what has occurred. Nature, as said before, does not produce her sweet novelties by the in- troduction of things consists of two dis- --S absolutely , original, tinct portions,—a * but by altering, recon- stalk, usually very §§ gº) III-- stituting, re-arrang- slender, called the fila- ment, and at the ex- tremity an elegant head, called the an- ther. To see these two members in perfection, obtain at mid- Summer or in early autumn a flower of any kind of genuine lily. The filaments in the flowers of lilies truly so called are more con- spicuous than those of any other flowers pro- curable in England. Next to them come the filaments of the daffodils of the spring, which may be examined with equal profit. The anther is also exceedingly well declared in lilies and daffodils. In the former it is attached to the tip of the filament in such a way as to balance most elegantly, moving up and down as boys do in their amusement of “see-saw.” When thus º a faut's r ) '(.5-S ..’ p. } ---' Z y / N wes \ \, -º- s\ / Åskº `- FIG. 80.-WooD ANEMONE. ing, the old and fami- 1iar. If we take for our Ariadne's clue the simple proposition that nature is “unity in variety,” there is seldom any pro- longed difficulty in translating the most singular of exceptions. Sessile anthers occur chiefly in flowers formed upon the plan of the primrose and the mezereon, where they are more or less concealed in the tubular portion. They are extremely rare in endogenous plants, and are never met with when the normal number of stamens exceeds ten. The length of the filaments varies in different blants, from the simplest frac- º #. of an inch to . or three sº * inches. This contributes greatly Of ill&IIl&IAUS, 454 THE UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCPOR. *— to the various beauty of flowers, and the length being always the same in the same kind, it often furnishes a capital distinguishing cha- racter. How wide the contrast, for instance, between the little cone of the violet or the pansy, and the beautiful silk-like tassel of the cactus ! Sometimes the filaments so greatly exceed the petals in length that the latter are almost or entirely hidden from view. This occurs very remarkably in the Acacias, the tiny clustered blossoms of which seem a kind of golden chenille, and are rendered intelligible Only by the most careful dissection,-unless, indeed, studied first while in the bud or unopened condition, when the composition of each little globe is plain enough. In Botany, as everywhere else in nature, in order to learn things accurately it is quite as needful to study them in their youngest condition as in their oldest. Indeed, it may be stated, as a universal and incontestable principle, that full and exact apprehension of the object studied depends altogether upon the amount of attention we bestow upon it while in course of development. An extremely rich and beautiful effect is given also to the flowers of the Australian shrubs and trees (familiar in good greenhouses) called Metrosideros and Melaleuca. In these, owing jointly to the length of the filaments, their straightness and close company, and the mode in which the many flowers are disposed upon the general stalk, the figure presented by the whole is that of a bottle-brush. Old England supplies pretty examples of the ascendancy of the stamens over the perianth, in its two or three different species of Meadow-rue, in Latin called Thalictrum. In the great and important family which includes mint, Sage, marjoram, thyme, savory, and all other aromatic herbs of the kind used as condiments; also in the great family which includes the foxglove, the Snapdragon, and a vast number of ornamental garden-flowers; also, again, in half a dozen beautiful families which are scarcely represented in Europe in the wild or native state, though there are plenty in gardens,—the Gloxinia family, the Werbena family, the Acanthus family, the Bignonia family, and others of less moment, the filaments of the four stamens are ordinarily of two different lengths : two of them, that is, are longer than the other pair. This condition, termed “didynamous,” accom- panies the “lip-shaped” and the “personate” corolla, and often introduces a new feature in flower-beauty of very exquisite description, as in the little ground-ivy (so-called, though not an “ivy '' at all) of every hedgerow, the Gleehoma hederacea, and still more conspicu- ously in the common foxglove. The considera- tion of these particulars, be it remembered, is never to be supposed to begin and end with the bare fact, which to outsiders may well seem a very useless addition to one's know- ledge. The value of the knowledge only begins when we have acquired it ; it is the ascent of the green hill from the slopes of which we survey the landscape. One of the very special : their edges. Sometimes the whole are combined, as in mallows, uses of structural botany is to quicken our eyes to the perception of loveliness. Nothing betrays greater ignorance of the true object in making these delicate examina- tions, than to regard them as a pastime for little minds that can just manage simple arithmetic and the use of the compasses. In another great and important family, and in this one alone, there is the very curious disproportionate Tetrºlynºmous length of four long and two short. stamens, Six stamens all of the same length, or three and three, form one of the grand and special features of liliaceous plants, and occur also in a few exogenous families, such as the Berberi- daceae and the Polygonaceae. In the family we now speak of they are never of the same length, nor three and three ; or if scarcely distinguishable into four and two, never in a regular whorl or circle. The common turnip, the common cabbage, the stock-gilliflower, and a hundred other accustomed inmates of the garden, disclose the character perfectly. Along with it there goes invariably the quite as plain characteristic of four free petals, so that these plants with the tetradynamous stamens are fittingly named the Cruciferae. It happens very generally with flowers having eight stamens, and with those having ten— called respectively “octandrous.” and “decandrous”—that the fila- 9. and ments stand in two sets of four ...” OWerS, each, or five. The mezereon shows very clearly how this can be when the anthers are sessile—the wild geraniums or cranesbills show it quite as prettily in con- nection with filaments that remain free and independent. Quite apart from the physio- logical reasons, to be noticed by-and-by, we have here again a contrivance for most sweetly augmenting the beauty that by a benevolent Providence is provided for the eye. It affords a picture of the most refined symmetry—that which comes of the nice balance of comple- mentaries. One sees now how it happens that in the mind of man, which is fed from the Same source, the ruling effort in constructive art is to achieve harmony by tasteful marshal- ling of contrasts. Filaments are either quite free, or, as in Several large families, more or less united by United when they are called “mona- filaments. delphous”; or nine are united, and one Temains free, as in many pea-flowers, when they are “ diadelphous.” In a few places they conjoin at the bases so as to form little clusters, as in the well-known St. John's WortS. The charm of the stamens (except when no roper filament is developed) i. in the anther, not ... The anther, because of its unspeakable diversity in figure and colour, but on account of its own par- ticular structure, and the new phenomena to which it introduces the attentive student. Except in the Mallow family, and one or two races of plants in which the regularity of the formation is in some way disturbed, the anther GEOI, OGY. 455 consists of two separate and distinct compart- ments or “cells,” which are usually parallel. In the common foxglove one may note how nature declines to be bound by so simple a rule even as this, the anther-cells being here most curiously divergent. While young, the anthers are fat, plump, and smooth. Presently they open, either by a longitudinal fissure, Or by a pore at the upper extremity, or by a very singular lateral valve, exactly resem- bling the “port” of a ship. This opening, called the “dehiscence,” is in many cases a capital adjunct to other characteristics in determining the affinities of plants. Very plain examples of dehiscence by pores at the extremity may be seen in Rhododendrons ; and very interesting ones of lateral valves in the common Berbery and the Bay-tree. The purpose of the dehiscence is to allow the escape of the anther-contents—the powder, usually yellow, so often seen adhering to the bodies of the honey-bees when they emerge from the flower, and which, in the language of botany, is the “pollen.” The quantity of pollen dis- charged is usually very considerable. Some- times it is white, or scarlet, or blue, or purple— even green—but gold colour is predominant. Viewed with the microscope, the shape of the particles is also found to be exceedingly diverse. It is elliptical, spherical, or like a double globe, and the surface is sometimes covered elegantly with raised projections. Very carefully mani- pulated under the microscope, the tunic of every particle is found to consist of two or more layers, while inside of all there is a delicate secretion called the “fovilla.” So much for the general structure of the anther. It has only to be added, at present, that in the enormous family which includes the daisy and the dandelion, also in Lobelias and a few other plants, the five long anthers cohere by their edges so as to form a narrow tube, the filaments remaining “free.” When thus united, anthers are said to be “syngenesious.” T.º. Fºx rºº * : V & tº sº, rºº Nº. º §º . . ºf sº, E- ? * * ºf Nº. º ſº N$ºś & GE º º sº Sº Yº SAN$º: DEVONIAN SYSTEM. IN, West Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, a Series of rocks of considerable thickness occur Devonian strata between the Upper Silurian and of Somerset, Carboniferous strata. These, and Devon and their foreign equivalents, are Cornwall, called by British geologists Devonian. They consist of slates, schists, Sandstones, limestones, etc., and are best studied in North Devon. They have been divided into three groups—Upper, Middle, and Jonver—and these can be traced in succession upwards from the North Foreland to Barnstaple Bay. At the Foreland the Loner Devonian rocks occur as a series of “hard greenish red and purple Sandstones, with occasional fossils,” and as “soft chloritous slates with some sand- stones” at Lynmouth, etc. At Ilfracombe and Combe Martin Middle Devonian strata are shown as calcareous slates with courses of limestone full of corals and shells; and further east, at Morte Point and Morte Bay, as un- fossiliferous sandstones, micaceous flags and greenish Schists. At Baggy Point, etc., the Opper Devonian rocks occur as brown and yellow sandstones with fossils; and in the neighbourhood of Barnstaple and Pilton as calcareous brown slates with fossils. The well- known limestones of Plymouth and Torbay, crowded with corals and other fossils, and com- monly cut and polished for ornaments, belong also to the Middle Devonian group of rocks. Most of the rocks thus included under the head of Devonian are unmistakably of marine Origin, as the fossils clearly show; but this is by no means the case with other strata of the same geological age, known as THE OLD RED SANDSTONE. It will be remembered that the central part of the Mendip Hills—the core, so to speak—was described on an earlier page as § consisting of Old Red Sandstone, s: as may be seen at Pen Hill and ** Maesbury Castle (see p. 18). There is not, how- ever, any very considerable exposure of these rocks at either place, and we must go elsewhere to gain an adequate idea of the importance of the deposits of this character. “The grandest exhibition,” says Sir R. Murchison, “of the Old Red Sandstone in England and Wales appears in the escarpments of the Black Mountain of Herefordshire, and in those of the loftiest moun- tains of South Wales, the Fans of Brecon, and Carmarthen—the one 2860, and the other 2590 feet above the sea. In no other tract of the world visited by me have I seen such a mass of Ted rocks (estimated at a thickness of not less than 10,000 feet) so clearly intercalated between the Silurian and the Carboniferous strata. . . Consisting in its lower parts of red and green shale and flagstone, with some small ‘COrnstones’” (earthy limestones with concre- tionary lumps), “and whitish sandstone, the central and largest portion of the deposit is composed of spotted green and red clays, and marls, which afford on decomposition the richest tracts of the counties of Brecknock, Monmouth, Hereford, a large portion of Salop (Shropshire), and Small parts of Gloucester and Worcester.” We have already had occasion to remark that the names given to formations are not always to be construed literally. We shall see further on that Oolitic Aºte: beds are not always “oolitic” eposit, in structure, that strata may belong to the cre- taceous system without being chalky, and that greemsand strata may be neither sandy nor green. Such names have been bestowed for Various reasons, and describe rather the general character of formations or of particular beds in the locality where they were regarded as typical, and certainly not because rocks of any particular age must necessarily be of the same 456 THE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR. mineral character. So the Old Red Sandstone is not always red, nor is it always sandstone, but wherever it occurs in the British Islands the deposits are much stained with iron, and they are distinctly different in character from the true Devonian rocks, which are evidently of marine origin. Mr. Godwin Austin, Prof. Ramsay, Prof. R. Jones, and other observers, have suggested, and it is now a generally received opinion, that the Old Red Sandstone was formed in inland lakes or seas of fresh or brackish water. Professor Geikie has further attempted to mark out the areas occupied by the several * 'w . . " lakes in which these ancient ... deposits were formed, and as in doing so he has indicated the districts in which the Old Red Sandstone is found, we give his conclusions in his own words :*— 1. The Old Red Sandstone tracts of the north of Scotland, embracing the region of the -º-º-º-º-º: districts Prof. Geikie calls Lake Orcadie, Lake Caledonia, Lake Cheviot, Lake Lorne, and the Welsh, Lake. Remains of insects allied to the Epheme- ridae (May flies), and other neuropterous species, have been discovered in ..., the Devonian rocks of Canada, Fº but with these exceptions our * knowledge of the animal life of the period is confined to the inhabitants of the seas and lakes. That land animals did exist then We have no reason to doubt, and it is not by any means beyond expectation that we shall yet learn something of the character of the beasts that inhabited the countries of Europe while the Old Red Sandstone was being deposited in the broad lakes which formed so prominent a feature of the landscape. In the Devonian strata, as distinguished from the Old Red Sand- stone—that is, in the marine deposits—we find sponges, annelids, polyzoa, large quantities and many species of corals, numerous mollusca, See==s=E=SEs- $. ===s==s=sº - ====-º-º: *s- = −3:====Es: ---------> - -ms----"-"Fº --- EE §º #=# == £Es=# i === ==EEE ==== VIEW ON LOCEI LEVEN. Moray Firth, Caithness, the Orkney Islands, the mainland of Shetland, and perhaps part of the south-west coast of Norway. 2. The central valley of Scotland, between the Highlands on the north and the Silurian i uplands on the south, including the basin of the Firth of Clyde, and ranging across the north of Ireland to the high grounds of Donegal. 3. A portion of the south-east of Scotland and north of England, extending from St. Abb's Head to the head of Liddesdale, and including the area of the Cheviot Hills. 4. A district in the north of Argyllshire, extending from the mouth of the Sound of Mull to Loch Awe, and perhaps up into the Southern part of the Great Glen. 5. The Old Red Sandstone region of Wales and the border counties of England, bounded on the north and west by the older palaeozoic hills, the eastern and southern limits being unknown. The lakes which presumably occupied these * Wature, vol. xvii., p. 471. cephalopods, gasteropods, conchifera, and bra- chiopods; * trilobites are not so common as in the older strata. There are besides some Crinoids and Small crustaceans. The fossils of the Old Red Sandstone have long excited the interest and claimed the attention of palaeontologists. The fish remains of the Upper Silurian Fiºr strata are very fragmentary and . Ilê, in many respects unsatisfactory. Those in the Old Red Sandstone are numerous, and in a much less fragmentary condition. * Cuttle fish, nautili, and other molluscs belonging to the same class, are included under the designation cephalopoda (from keda.X3) (the head) and troča (feet), because their feet or arms are attached to the head. In the gasteropoda (yao Th9, the belly) the under side of the body forms a single muscular foot, as in the snails; and the pteropoda (irrepov, a wing) have wing-like processes which serve as fins. The brachio- poda or lampshells are so designated from 8paxtov (an arm), and the conchifera, “shell-bearers,” is a term which has been found convenient to describe ordinary bivalve mollusca, such as oysters, mussels, pectens, etc., They are also very Commonly called Lamellibranchiata. J/NGLISEI GRAMMAR. 457 Most of them belong to the “Ganoid” order.” Fin spines and teeth which probably belonged to “placoid” fishes have been found, but no entire skeletons belonging to that division have yet been discovered. Of the ganoid fish the greater number belong to a sub-order named by Prof. Huxley Crossopterygidae or “fringe- finned,” from the peculiar disposition of the fins. The Polypterus, a fish now living in the Nile and other African rivers, and the bony pike of North America, are the only existing representatives of these fishes. The Pterichthys, of which five species have been found in the middle division of the Old Extinct forms, Red Sandstone in Scotland, has no living representative. It was covered with hard shelly armour more like that of a crab than a fish—and had two wing- like appendages, one on each side of the head, which served for fins. In the lower beds, the Cephalaspis (“buckler-headed”), the head of which is covered with armour, and the Pteraspis, --- -- 5. - --> ==== ; . ! a' - s: y * * * N \, : ºr ºl \ \ N a º rºsiº N. - tº: i. -: \\ A S i š _*---- S$\\ s and in the same formation a fresh-water mussel (Anodonta), has been discovered. It may very naturally be asked, how could marine and fresh-water strata have been de- posited at the same time and so close together as the Devonian rocks of Devon and Cornwall, and the Old Red Sandstone, which lies to the north of them 7. The answer to this inquiry is, that we have reason to believe a barrier of hilly country stretched somewhere in the neighbour- hood of the Bristol Channel in an easterly direction, and thus cut off the sea from the great lake in which the Sandstone was forming. Charnwood Forest—a piece of wild rocky country north of Leicester—was also in exist- ence as high land, and probably formed part of a ridge which extended from Shropshire in the west to some considerable distance beyond Leicester—perhaps to the coast. The hills of the Lake District are also older than the period of which we are speaking, and they, too, pro- bably stretched out much farther east. - 5–– SN. *: * Nº. S.::=== T-7– \\\ Ş S sº->x- - Sº e-º: - ‘. . . . …, 2-,----Y. N Rºº---- 2=== ==#3 º: - sº --~~ -ºš =l j jillº af º== * † : : ºssº -> . º - - - - - , --~~~ (. . ~~ 2 */2.72:T- * º º -- --- Sºyºl -º ɺ-3-2-zº . . .22 %:º ſ! -- - NN\, \\ \ *...* * tº:-- " -ºº: &sters: ºf: & § º A-T- :::::::::::::2-ºxºgº.g.: ... º. # #====== àº'à:######: -*. i tº a º - - * 33 ºilº.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.º.3% ºf - § 1. º.º. -- S. S. Kº ºùUl 1U. UJITſūl) hºſtſ *Runn * * * * Wººlhº * ; : | w - º wº-ºº-º-º- lºity * Allº | ń. § º i | ſºlº §§ º =::==º- *wun ****"--SS, fº .' * T at §§§ §§ tº \$ ==E====E=E--->~~ w --- wº **. SS Nº: Cº S. -º º #sº SN -ºš Š # { º § > Sº-SNSS- RWºº , º żºłºś. :------ t º - - ====<= ====###: º === Some remark- able crustaceans, Pterygotus and Eurypterus, a fish of the same family, occur. are found in the same strata. Altogether about 110 species of fish have been found in the deposits of this age in the British Isles. The vegetation of the period, as far as it has been ascertained, resembled in a remarkable º degree that of the succeeding Vegetation. carboniferous age. The oldest known fern, the Cyclopteris Hibernicus, is plentiful in the Devonian beds of Kiltorkan; * It has been found convenient for some purposes to divide fish into orders distinguished according to the character of their scales. If a herring scale is examined with a magnifying glass, it will be seen to be thin, flexible and horny, flat and round; all such scales, whether circular or more or less oval, are called cycloid. The scales of a sole or perch have a margin with projections something like the teeth of a comb– hence they are designated ctenoid. Ganoid scales are \bony, and covered with smooth enamel: the “bomy pike” (Lepidosteus) of North America is a living example of this order. Placoid scales consist of de- tached bony tubercles, generally more or less armed with spines, as in the shark and dog-fish. ORTHOGRAPHY. 102. Letters are symbols. . Superfluous letters. Forty-four sounds, twenty-three symbols. . Imperfections of the English alphabet. . Reasons for this. . Difficulties of pronunciation. . WoWels. Table of vowel sounds. Compound-vowel sounds. 111. Second table of vowel sounds. 5 i :: BEFORE proceeding to examine in detail the classes of words, with their uses and inflexions, we must devote some attention to orthography or the classification of letters. By orthography (see before, § 13) I do not mean the common 458 TEIE UAVI VERSAL INSTRUCTOR, acceptation of the word, as signifying correct spelling only ; this is but a small part of what is comprehended under the term. To study a little the meaning of letters and their influence One upon another, how they affect inflexion and the composition of words, is by no means uninteresting, while it is essential for the ād- Vanced knowledge of language. § 102. Orthography deals with the correct use of the symbols which we call letters; Orthoëpy deals with the sounds which those letters represent. We have seen (§ 4) that a syllable represents a complete sound ; what, then, is a letter ? Letters are the symbols or characters which in European languages stand for the part-sounds of speech ; in the English alphabet we have twenty-six, which are, as every one knows, A B C D E FG H IJ K L M N O P Q R S T U W W X Y. Z. Every one, perhaps, does not notice that these characters which we see we call by the names of ay, bee, cee, dee, ee, ºf gee, aitch, eye, jay, kay, el, em, en, oh, pee, cue, ar, es, tee, enve, vee, double-ente, eks, ºvy, zed. Each of these (except in one case) is, in fact, a word of one syllable. We recognise this directly on beginning to teach a child to read, if the old-fashioned method is used of spelling the word first and then pro- nouncing it. C a t is said to spell cat ; it really makes ceedytee. The writer well re- members hearing a little sister puzzled over the word “was.” “What does “w” sound 7” said the teacher, and the sad answer “ dub '' came in reply. How reconcile the name “double- ewe” with the sound except by shortening it ! Some knowledge of the real sound-value of our symbols is therefore most necessary in teaching to read : the difference between the spoken and the ºva'itten alphabet must be clearly seen. § 103. A little examination of our alphabet shows that of our twenty-six letters, three are superfluous—that is, there are in three cases two letters for One sound ; c, qu, as, and k, kn', As stand for the same in kan or can, queen or An'een, eacercise or eksercise ; as also can be represented by z in Xenophon. § 104. On the other hand, many of the letters represent two or three different sounds each : thus a stands for six distinct sounds, as in the words cat, care, mame, father, tall, my/tat ; c stands for two sounds, in spice and craze ; g differs in gutter and gem, ; y even does duty for two sorts of sounds, in three forms, as in rhyme, forty, and year. There are in English forty- two simple or elementary sounds (some only reckon forty), for which we have only twenty- three useful symbols (See after, $121, as to c, q, and aº). § 105. It is upon these facts that the English scholars who advocate a system of phonetic writing base their arguments. A perfect alphabet, it is said, ought to have a symbol for every sound, and each symbol Ought Only to mean one sound ; moreover, each symbol Ought to be used according to its own character. (Even here, language but imperfectly conveys the thought : a part sound is meant, except in the case of vowels; a whole sound is a syllable.) And no doubt if philosophers could sit down and form a language from the beginning, upon strictly logical principles, this possibly might be done among a number who would agree upon the same pronunciation, and who would also agree not to change their pronunciation. There are several reasons for what seem to be the inconsistencies or contradictions of our alphabet: we still use the symbols which were invented in early times to express the letters as they were then pronounced; while, from various causes, Our pronunciation has changed, the symbols have stood still. The history of pro- nunciation, and especially of the English, has been fully and carefully investigated by Mr. Alexander J. Ellis, who has spent years of patient labour upon the study ; the following extract from his great work indicates very clearly some of the reasons for the growing divergence between the letters and sounds of any language. § 106. “Writing, that wonderful method of arresting sound which has made human memory independent of life, and has thus perpetuated knowledge, was necessarily at first confined to the learned alone—the priestand the philosopher. These fixed, as nearly as they could appreciate, or their method of symbolization, which was necessarily insufficient, would allow, the Sounds of their own language as they heard them in their own day. Their successors, venerating the invention, or despairing of introducing im- provements, trod servilely in their steps, and mostly used the old symbols while the sounds changed around them. Within the limits of the powers of the old symbols some changes were made from time to time, but very slowly. Then in quite recent days, the innovation of dia- critical signs arose, as in French and German, whereby a modern modification of an ancient usage was more or less indicated. Occasionally, whole groups of letters, formerly correctly used to indicate certain sounds, came to be con- sidered as groups indicating new Sounds. Before the invention of printing, writers, be- come more numerous, had become also less controlled by the example of their ancestors, and endeavoured as well as they could . . . to express on paper the sounds they heard. . . . . But with the invention of printing came a. belief in the necessity of a fixed orthography to facilitate the work of the compositor and reader. The regulation of spelling was taken from the intellectual and given to a mechanical class. Uniformity at all hazards was the aim.” (“ On Early English Pronunciation,” chap. i., pp. 21, 22.) This difficulty of the want of correspondence between spoken sounds and letters is not, as Some suppose, confined to English. A well- known French scholar declares that “French Orthography is now quite as traditional and unphonetic as English, and gives an even falser Inotion than this of the actual state of the language it is supposed to represent * (H. Nicol). Students in the seventeenth century noted “the imperfection of our alphabet. For,” says Charles Butler, “through the ignorance of our old pen-men an i printers, it is come to passe, that sundry letters, of frequent use in our tongue, have yet moe peculiar and JºAVGLISH GRAMMAR. 459 distinct characters: as Sir Thomas Smith, occasioned by this uncertainty of our writing, noteth. “Whereas (saith hee) of necessitie there must bee so many letters in every tongue, as there are single Sounds, the Latin letters are not sufficient to expresse all the single sounds of the English. So that wee are faine to borrow for these uncharactered letters, other letters, that have other forces of their owne.’” (“The English Grammar,” Oxford, 1633.) In English, besides the changes brought about by time in pronunciation, our ortho- graphy has been affected by the introduction of Norman-French ; its grafting on to the speech of the people brought in new powers to the existing symbols, or modified by force of habit the old Sounds represented. The mixing of dialects, which have each their individual peculiarities of Sound, is another source of varying signs and powers, as any one may easily verify by comparing some familiar words, as he hears them, say in Yorkshire and Somersetshire, and this in the language of cultivated people, without going so far as the broadest country speech—e.g., basket, staff; basket, staff, with the “full French sound,” as Jonson calls it ; ger! (girl), and gurl, or even gyntrl. § 107. Thus it is impossible to class our letters with an exactitude that shall have no exceptions, and to say of a letter or combination of letters, as can be done for the most part with Italian or German, “this always sounds so; ” there are so many varieties that the unfortu- nate foreigner finds it difficult to learn by the analogy of pronunciation—he must learn them by heart. The Frenchman who, being asked how he was, replied that “he had a cow in his box,” had excuse enough in the strange differences in the use of ough in cough, plough, enough, through, borough and though, to have mistaken the lowing milker for his complaint. Under the study of phonetic laws, now becoming reduced to a science, it is found that in the progress of language “each sound under the same condi- tions can change in only one way” (H. Sweet): to account for the great variety of changes stereotyped by our alphabet must consequently signify an infinity of differing conditions. That system of phonetic writing, therefore, which is destined to endure, must provide for the pos- sibility of such changes according to the laws of interchange and growth. § 108. Vowels.-Om examination of our forty- two sounds, we find that they admit of a classification, according to the portion of the physical organ which produces the sound. We are all taught that some are vowels—a, e, i, o, u —and that the rest are consonants. What is the difference between them A simple VOWel is a sound coming straight through the throat from the larynx, vibrating through the vocal chords that are stretched across the windpipe, against the hollows of the mouth and throat, without modification by the teeth, lips, or throat; the sound, too, can be easily uttered continuously, and by itself, without the help of other sounds. (Or, as a quaint old Scotch writer, Alexander Hume, puts it, “a vowal is the symbol of a sound maed without the tuiches of the mouth.”) We have eleven of these in English, to which we add six com- pound-vonel sounds,” making seventeen vowel sounds in all. These are represented by fifteen symbols, for this purpose two letters being often taken for one. The following table shows the sounds as we recognize them in the spelling of certain words, and we recommend the student to exercise himself on all the letters, testing the sounds on the definitions here given. § 109. TABLE OF vow EL SOUNDS. Eleven Simple-Vowel sounds. a in care (and ai in pair, ea in bear). a in bath, far. a in fall (an in Saw, and in Paul). | a in Cat, bad. [N.B. For a in nºtat, see O ; for a in name, see Diphthongs.] a ſe in feel (and ea in meal). le in led (and ea in bread). I i in tin (and y in study). [N.B. For i in vine, see Diphthongs.] | o in pool (and u in Tude). o in hot (and a in what). [N.B. For o in note, see Diphthongs.] aſ in but (and o in mother). }: in full (and oo in wood). [N.B. For u in rude, see O ; for w in muse, see Diphthongs.] Six Compound-Vowel sounds or Diphthongs. a in name, rate (and ai in Strait, laid). 6 in vine (ai in aisle, and y in cypher). o in note (and oa in boat, goal). oi in choice (oy in boy). on in sound (and on in how). eu in feud (and env in mew, and it in muse). A § 110. The compound-vonel sound is that in which two simple vowels flow together, or rather the one a little precedes the other, and consequently a slight change in the movement of the mouth is necessary to complete the sound. It may surprise some to find an a, i, o, or a u set down as a diphthong; it must be remembered that it is the sound it represents in the particular combinations exemplified. The symbol a in name, fate, standing for the same sound as the two letters ai in Waid, l, raid : the letter i standing for the sound spelt eye (as in blind), also for the sound of ai in aisle, are really diphthongal vowels, neither of them can be pronounced by a single, but requires a double action of the mouth, quite as much as do the other compound-vowel sounds which happen to be represented by double letters. The same remarks apply to the o sound in Tote, goat, and to the w Sound in mºte, ne?vs. In all four cases we have a really double sign, * It is perhaps not possible to be entirely exact as to the number of vowel sounds (owing to the diversity in pronunciation and in hearing, even of the most careful). By two well-known writers on English they are given differently: Dr. Morris has fourteen “single vowels” and five diphthongs, Dr. Angus twelve simple vowels and four diphthongal sounds. I believe the above table gives a fair representation. It is purposely made on the basis of the five ordinary “vowels,” that, the student may distinguish clearly the differing sounds, and the number of them, which they at pre- sent denote. A more scientific classification of these sounds is given in § 111. 460 THE UNI VERSA I, IVSTRUCTOR. as well as the single one, for the compound sound. The letter y sometimes represents the com- pound sound of i, as in by, cry; it also fre- quently stands for the simple vowel i, as in very, truly, day. But y is itself properly a consonant. So also is w. See after, § 120, the Table of Consonants. e § 111. Those who study the vowel sounds according to the method of their production from the voice and the hollows of the throat and mouth find that they bear a relation to one another, answering to certain musical notes and chords. Such of the vowel sounds as are found in the English language (for there are, naturally, several in other languages which we do not possess) these scholars, therefore, class in the following order — Long Worwels. ea, i as in pea, machine. Q, Q & , Care, pair. 0, ,, father, mark. a, and , all, pa)wn, Saul. 20, 00 ,, rude, fool. Short Vombels. º as in ship, limb. & , bed, Ineck. Q, » hat, Tam. 0, 4 ,, hot, nod, what. 20, 00 , full, pºet, wood. 24, 0 ,, but, ugly, mother. Diphthongs. a? as in aisle, wine, fire. ou, on , house, com’. (l, ,, fate, name. oi, o/ , oil, coy. 0, 00, ,, rope, boat. aſ, en: ,, puny, few. The want of a proper sign to each sound is again here apparent, and several efforts have been made both in England and abroad to supply the deficiency ; Sooner or later a more faithful system of notation will probably grow Up among us. ºte: Pºž ºrs.º \}}: & º º zºº sº XII. ORNAMENTAL WRITING. ANOTHER department of ornamental writing to which the old writing-masters devoted great attention was that which they denominated “flourishing.” Some of us are old enough to remember, perhaps, when the headpieces of Our ciphering books were elaborately designed by one who the Name of each rule in neat design would set— Bird, beast, or fish ; ogee or Grecian fret ; Around “Addition ” cherubs' heads incline, Or swooping eagles decked in plumage fine : “Reduction.”’s borne by dragon cloaked in mail, Or scaly fish, that's “very like a whale,” Designs of this character abound in the works of the ancient teachers of writing, and have been the subject of much misapprehension. It has been taken for granted that these men were capable of the absurdity of intending these frequently grotesque pen-sketches for “drawings.” They may fairly be exonerated of any such folly. These things were done merely as pleasant practice for gaining free- dom of hand, or as evidences of such freedom when it was attained. And their authors were quite right. It is simply impossible to strike one of these designs (say an eagle or a dragon), without being capable of the utmost free- sº sº- ºf “… : dom of hand; and N *N * º º the man or boy §§ 㺠who has gained ‘º º that freedom is, S º almost in the nature of things, a good writer. Another spe- ciality of some of these men, and one, by the way, which certainly could not claim any useful character, was their ability as executants of microscopic, or very minute, chirography. Penman- ship of this kind appears to be of very considerable antiquity, one of the oldest facts (or fictions) in the history of chiro- graphy claiming that the whole Iliad of Homer had been written by an Athenian in characters so minute that the MS. could be enclosed in a nut-shell. Though this appears perfectly incredible, Huet, bishop of Avranches, states (“Comment. de Rebus ad eum pettinent”) that he himself proved the possibility of the feat before the Dauphine of France. Much of the feasibility of the performance evidently depends upon the mature of the nut selected as the receptacle for the MS. The most ancient account says indefinitely “in muce,” which may mean any nut : Huet is more precise in phrase ; and “intra juglandis’ indicated his preference for a walnut shell. Massey, the historian of penmen, says, quaintly and per- tinently, concerning this knotty point : “If it could be proved that it was a cacao" (cocoa.) “nut shell, the matter, I think, would not then admit of a dispute.” A very early performer in this way was the celebrated Peter Bales. It is recorded of this writing-master that he inscribed the Lord's Prayer, the Apostles' Creed, and the Ten Com- mandments within the circumference of a silver penny. This extraordinary specimen of microscopic penmanship Bales had set in a gold ring, and covered with crystal, and pre- sented it to “good Queen Bess.” A strong magnifying-glass accompanied the ring, that being indispensable for the decipherment of the tiny characters. It would seem that Her Majesty often placed the singular ornament upon her finger, and delighted to show it to foreigners and strangers. TRANSCRIBER AT WORK. Microscopic chirography, A PEA/MIA MS / / / P. 461 Hollingshead, in his “Chronicle,” gives the following account of this celebrated specimen of micro-caligraphy:— “The 10th of August, 1575, a rare piece of work, and almost incredible, was brought to pass by an Englishman, born in the city of London, named Peter Bales, who, by his industry and practice of his pen, contrived and Writ, within the compass of a penny, in Tatin, the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the Ten Commandments, a Prayer to God, a Prayer for the Queen, his Poesy, his Name, the Day of the Month, the Year of our Lord and the Queen's Reign. And on the 17th of August next following, at Hampton Court, he pre- sented the same to the Queen's Majesty, in the head of a ring of gold, covered with crystal, and presented therewith an excellent spectacle by him devised for the easier reading thereof, wherewith Her Majesty read all that was written therein, with great admiration, and commended the same to the Lords of the Council and the Ambassadors, and did wear the same many times upon her finger.” This Bales appears to have been the first syste- matic English writer upon the art of penman- ship. His “Writing Schoolmaster,” published in 1590, is divided into three parts, the first treating of “Brachygraphy,” or swift writing ; the second of “Orthography,” or true writing ; and the third of “Calligraphy,” or fair writing. A second edition was published rather more than a century later. There is no manner of doubt that Bales was not only an adept in the use of the pen, but an able and capable in- structor in the same. The following quaint epigram, with which he concludes his “Writing Schoolmaster,” shows, however, that he was by no means exempt from the vanity with which his successors have often been so strongly tinctured:— “Swift, true, and fair, good reader, I present, Art, pen, and hand, have play’d their parts in me, Mind, wit, and eye, do yield their free consent ; Skill, rule, and grace, give all their gains to thee; Swift art, true pen, fair hand together meet, Mind, wit, and eye, skill, rules, and grace to greet.” A still more extraordinary microscopic pen- man was the marvellously clever dwarf, Mat- thew Buckinger. This lusus maturae was born in the year 1674, and had neither hands nor legs. He attaimed a stature of twenty-nine inches. Neither his liliputian proportions nor his terrible deprivations were able, however, to either conceal his great talents or to shut him out from the pale of social life. The dwarf Buckinger was a microscopic pen- *igrapher man characterised by a déxtérity perfectly marvellous, in its varied results. He has left a very remarkable portrait of his tiny anatomy, which is decidedly of great chiro- graphical interest, the flowing curls of the wig being formed of lines of writing barely large enough to be legible to ordinary eyes, and these contain the whole of the following Psalms, according to the version in the Prayer Book — 121st, “I will lift up mine eyes,” etc. 127th, “Except the Lord build the house,” etc. 128th, “Blessed are all they,” etc. 130th, “Out of the depths,” etc. 146th, “Praise ye the Lord,” etc. 149th, “O sing unto the Lord,” etc. 150th, “O praise God in His holiness,” etc., and the Lord's Prayer, which latter is com- prised in four curls. Some of Buckinger's other specimens so closely resemble engravings, when casually viewed, that they actually passed for prints for a considerable period. This extraordinary little personage, besides being a rapid and expert penman, was an excellent musician, and could Buckinger’s perform upon the oboe, trumpet, *. dulcimer, drum, “strange #. versatility, in consort with the bagpipe,” etc., by in- genious devices of his own invention ; was also a tolerable draughtsman, and expert at legerdemain, and was, moreover, four times a Benedick, and the father of eleven children. Decidedly, as a microscopic penman, little Master Matthew Buckinger was entitled to the tribute which the Lancashire man paid to the skill of the famous “Tim Bobbin,” himself a Caligrapher of mark, when he said, “Tim could write a cleavr preent hond, as smo as Smithy smudge " (“Tim could write a clear print hand, as small as the motes which dance in the Sunbeams in the blacksmith's shop”). There is, or used to be, a portrait of Charles I. in the library of St. John's College, Oxford, which has the whole of the Book of Psalms written in the lines of the face and the hair of the head. The lines are legible to the naked eye on a close inspection. It does not appear who was the author of this example of minute writing, nor when it was executed; but an in- Scription beneath it states that it was presented to the college by Archbishop Laud, in 1636. Massey states that he had in his possession a remarkable specimen of micro-caligraphy, written by George Kier (probably Kerr), a Scotsman, in 1711. It contained within the circumference of a shilling, the Lord's Prayer in Hebrew, the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer in English, the Creed, Publius Lentu- lus's letter to the Roman Senate concerning Our Saviour, and the 151st Psalm, translated from the Septuagint. A good glass was re- quired to decipher the writing. Though Peter Bales may have been the first Inglish micro-chirographer, and was un- doubtedly our earliest author who treated of penmanship systematically, perhaps we may take Roger Ascham, the celebrated author of the “ Schoolmaster,” as the prototype of our writing-masters. This fine old Yorkshireman had the honour of counting among his pupils Prince Edward and Lady Elizabeth (both subsequently to occupy the throne Of i. and #. brothers Roger Ascham. Henry and Charles, Dukes of Suffolk. That Ascham's repute as a penman (on which Leland has left an encomium) had not been gained at the expense of other acquirements, is proved by the laudatory epigram which he won from the great Buchanan, and by Queen IElizabeth's exclamation upon hearing of his death, “I had rather lost ten thousand pounds than my tutor Ascham I ?” 462 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTO R. Sºº º º §§ º §§ § e.oecºſº CCCXºod S. # 3) ºr -º-º: º: º HMET Kºś§ 2::$º XV. MEASURDS OF TIME. TIME, unlike space, and weight, is marked off into certain matural divisions of equal or nearly equal length, by the regular Tecurrence of certain natural events. Thus a year and a day are both natural divi- sions of time, depending on the earth's motion. We know that the earth has a compound motion—both spinning round on her own axis, and also describing an orbit round the sun, this orbit being very nearly a circle of which the Sun is the centre. This double or compound motion may be easily understood by imagining a top spinning on a man's hand, the man at the same time riding round in a circus. If the top were made to spin 365 times while the man went once round the circus, it would almost exactly represent the earth’s motion. The representa- tion would be still more accurate if the top and the man could be made to go so slowly that the top should require a whole day and night to spin once round, and the man a whole year to get once round the circus. The time which the earth takes to spin once Yound on its axis is called a day—or more strictly it should be called a solar day—and is generally measured from noon to noon. Now this time from noon to noon is not always exactly the same, being at some seasons of the year a little longer, and at others a little shorter than the average time, But it is easy to find what the average time is. This has been done, and the name “mean '' (or average) solar day is given to this time. The ordinary day of 24 hours is this mean Solar day. We now understand exactly what the length of an ordinary day is. It is the average length of time between two successive noons. The Ordinary day, as measured by our clocks, is thus, strictly speaking, not a natural division of time, though it is so closely connected with them. The hour marked by clocks is the 24th part of this artificial average day. Let us now consider what we mean by a year, and see how the natural or solar year differs in length from the artificial year which we always mean in the ordinary affairs of life. If we could mark the exact spot occupied by the earth at any moment in her Orbit round £he Sun, and then watch till she came round to exactly the same spot again, thus completing one revolution round the sun, we should find the time occupied in so doing to be just 365 days 5 hours 48 minutes 47% seconds, which is very nearly 365 days 6 hours, or 365+ days. Now, it would be very inconvenient to make this the length of our year, because then each year would begin 6 hours later than the year before. Thus, for instance, next year, instead of beginning, as this year did, at midnight on the 31st December, would not begin till 6 hours later. What is now noon would have to be called 6 o'clock, and the hours of the clock would all mean something different from what they do this year. The following year they would mean some- thing else, and so on. Thus there would be end- less confusion. On the other hand, if we neglect this quarter-day, and make every year to con- sist only of 365 days, then in 4 years we should be ahead of the sun one whole day (i.e., our year would begin a day sooner than it ought), and we should go on gaining one day every 4 years ; so that in 124 years we should have gained 31 days on the sun, and therefore the 1st of January would fall on what is now the 1st of December, and in another 120 years it would fall on what is now the 1st of November, and so on. To avoid this backward shifting of New Year's day, the following plan was hit on, and by order of Julius Caesar was adopted in the Roman Empire. Since our solar year is nearly 3653 days, 4 years will be 4 times 365 days -- 4 quarters (i.e. 4 times 365 days + 1 day; i.e. 3 times 365 days + 366 days). If therefore we allow 3 out of every 4 years to have 365 days, and the fourth year to have 366 days, we shall just keep things straight. The fourth year which gets this additional day is called leap year, or Bissextile ; and the extra day is given to February. * Now, this arrangement would do perfectly, only that unfortunately the solar year is not eaactly 3654 days, or 365 days 6 hours. It is actually only 365 days 5 hours 48 minutes 473, seconds ; so that in counting it as 3653 days, we made it too much by about 11 minutes 12; seconds. Therefore if we go on giving an additional day to every 4 years, in 400 years' time we shall have given about 3 days too much (i.e. 400 × 11’ 12%). Therefore we must omit 3 of the additional days in every 400 years. Pope Gregory XIII. Ordered this to be done by omitting the addi- tional day in those leap years which complete certain centuries—namely, all centuries such that the numbers expressing them are not divisible by 4. Thus the years 1700, 1800, 1900, are not to be leap years, because 17, 18, and 19 are not divisible by 4, though according to Julius Caesar's arrangement they would be leap years. But the years 1600 and 2000 will be leap years, because 16 and 20 are divisible by 4. Pope Gregory not only ordered this to be done for the future ; but as the old system of calculation had added on nearly 10 days too many, he ordered these 10 days to be omitted, skipping from the 4th to the 15th of March of the year 1582. In England no change was made till 170 years later ; but at last, on the 2nd September 1752, the “new style,” as it is called, was adopted, so that the next day, instead of being called the 3rd, was called the 14th, the error having by that time amounted to 11 days. It is amusing to read, as an instance of ex- treme confusion of thought, that many people at the time believed that their lives were ANCIENT EIIST'OR Y. 46 6 3 actually shortened by the 11 days thus skipped over ; and that in consequence there was much grumbling at the change. The arrangement adopted by Julius Caesar is called the Julian or Old Style; the modern one is called the Gregorian or Men, Style. Russia is now the only country in Europe which keeps the old style. We can now understand the table of time. The mean solar day is the standard of measurement. It is divided into 24 equal parts; each of these is subdivided into 60 equal parts; and each of these again into 60 equal parts. Table of Time. 60 seconds make 1 minute, Written 1 m. 60 minutes , 1 hour » 1 h. 24 hours ,, 1 day ; 1 d. 7 days ,, 1 week ,, 1 wk. 4 weeks , I common month , 1 mo. 365 days ,, 1 common year , 1 yr. Seconds are sometimes written thus (’) and minutes thus (). For instance, we may write 60’’ = 1/. The year is also divided into 12 calendar months. The number of days in each may be remembered by the following lines—more useful than beautiful :— Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November ; February twenty-eight alone, And all the rest have thirty-one ; But leap year coming once in four, February then has one day more. Eacercises. 1. Reduce to their lowest denominations the following compound quantities:— (a) 5 h. 35 m. 20 S. (f) 365 d. 5 h. 48 m. (b) 16 h. 21 m. 14 s. 51 S. (c) 5 d. 12 h. 58 m. (g) 11 d. 13 b. 14 m. (d) 15 d. 12 h. 16 m. (h) 15 h. 20 m. 11 s. 13 S. (i) 21 d. 2 h. 3 m. (e) 5 w. 3 d. 4 h. 2 m. (k) 127 d. 17 h. 43 m. 2. Reduce (a) 43200 seconds to hours, etc. , (b) 471654 hours to months, etc. , (c) 4745 days to years, etc. , (d) 146357 seconds to days, etc. , (e) 365230 hours to years, etc. , (f) 6106620 minutes to years, etc, , (g) 104373300 seconds to years, etc. 3. Add the following — wks. d. h. h. m. S. (a) 17 4 17 (b) 5 25 17 2 6 15 6 32 43 11 I 9 S 18 29 18 5 11 17 47 37 d. h. m., mo, Wik. d. (c) 3, 7 14 (d) 11 3 5 27 13 9 16 L 6 41 14 33 7 O 2 I6 S 27 18 2 4 --- 4. Perform the following subtractions — h. m. S. h. m. S. d. h. m. (a) 14 32 28 (b) 3 46 50 (c) 14 8 46 10 40 46 2 15 26 3 5 50 w. d. b. mo. W. d. yr. d. h. (d) 11 1 11 (e) 13 0 0 (f) 5 0 17 8 I 23 3 3 3 2 138 22 5. A watch loses 15 seconds every day : how much will it lose during the months of January and February in leap year ! Supposing it to have been rightly set on 1st January at mid- day, what hour will it show on the 4th March at midday 6. How many seconds are there in a day ? How many in a year (not a leap year) 7 How many seconds has a boy lived who has just completed his eighth year 7 (N.B. — There must be one, and only one, leap year in every 4 successive years.) 7. Supposing a bird to fly at the rate of 100 miles in 3 hours, how long would it take to fly to the sun, a distance of 95,000,000 miles, sup- posing it could do so without stopping 7 8. On the 21st of June, 1851, the Duke of Wellington had lived 30,000 days. What year was he born ? and on what day ? Answers. 1. (a) 20120 s. (f) 31556931s. (b) 58.874 s. (g) 16634 m. (c) 7978 m. (h) 55211 s. (d) 1340173 s. (i) 30363 m. (e) 54962 m. (k) 18394.3 m. 2. (a) 12 h. ; (b) 701 m.3.w.3 d. 6 h.; (c) 13 y. (d) 1 d. 16 h. 39 m. 17 s. ; (e) 41 y. 252 d. 22 h. (f) 11 y. 225 d. 17 h. ; (g) 3 y. 113 d. 35 m. 3. (a) 50 w. 4 d. 4 h. ; (b) 38 h. 4 m. 6 s. ; (c) 88 d. 19 h. 23 m. ; (d) 54 m. 0 w. 3 d. 4. (a) 3 h. 51 m.42s. ; (b) 1 h. 31 m. 24 s. ; (c) 10d. 21h. 56 m.; (d) 2w.6 d. 12h.; (e) 9 m.0 wi 4 d.; (f) 2 y. 226 d. 19 h. 5, 15 m.; 11 h. 44 m. 6. 86400 ; 31536000 ; 252460800. 7. 1187.50 Gl. 8. May 1st, 1769. C Sºº - gºvºº º § º w. *º. ſº Sºº-ººººwºº & **-N., º' Tº º §§ º §§§º Sººks ſº & ºtº ŞS º wº- º U N THE WARLIKE REIGN OF SARGON. THE reign of Shalmaneser IV., the successor of Tiglath-Pileser II., was short, extending over only five years. Whether he was a son or other relative of the great Tiglath, or whether after the death of that warlike monarch there was a brief anarchy, in the course of which Shalman- eser found his way to the throne, is not known. Very few records of his reign exist, and we are only informed that some of the Syrian and Phoenician cities, especially Samaria and Tyre, revolted, and that afterwards several of the petty chiefs submitted to the Assyrian king, and assisted him to form a navy for the attack of Tyre. Sixty vessels arrived off the famous seaport, but the brave Tyrians, ... with a fleet of only twelve ships, *::::: of Tyre encountered and defeated them. ** Shalmaneserthen limited his efforts to a blockade 464 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. on the land side of the maritime city. When he died, his forces were engaged in the sieges of Tyre and Samaria. The name of this king is connected with that of Hoshea, king of Israel, both on the monuments and in the Scripture narratives—the name in the cuneiform inscrip- tions appearing as Husai. In the second Book of Kings (xvii. 2–5) we are told, “And he [Hoshea) did that which was evil in the sight of the Lord. . . . Against him came up Shal- maneser, king of Assyria ; and Hoshea became his servant, and gave him presents. And the king of Assyria found conspiracy in Hoshea : for he had sent messengers to So [Sibahe], king of Egypt, and brought no present to the king of Assyria, as he had done year by year; therefore the king of Assyria shut him up and bound him in prison. Then the king of Assyria came up throughout all the land, and went up to Samaria, and besieged it three years.” There is reason to believe that Shalman- eser was deposed and probably killed by a military revolution in his own dominions, and it is certain that by 722 B.C. a leader of great energy and military talents, Sargon, became king. Some interesting inscriptions relating to mercantile affairs, and standard Assyrian weights of the time of Shalmaneser, are pre- served in the British Museum. The new king claimed royal descent, and he adopted the name of the great Babylonian king, “the Babylonian Moses,” as he has been styled—to whose remarkable history we have referred in a previous chapter. The name means “the right, or true king,” and was per- haps assumed by the new king of Assyria in a Spirit of boasting. His first expedition, after ascending the throne, was to complete the work his predecessor had begun in Syria, and he completed it effectually. Samaria was carried by Storm, and, say the inscriptions, more than twenty-seven thousand of the people were carried away. When the capital was taken the kingdom of Israel was at an end ; Hoshea, the last king of the ten tribes, was Death of Shalmaneser, .*.*, a captive and a prisoner. The Kingdom of e g Israel, destruction of Samaria was re- ferred to by the prophet Micah ; and the carrying the people into captivity in 2 Kings xvii. 6 : “In the ninth year of Hoshea the king of Assyria took Samaria, and carried Israel away into Assyria, and placed them in Halah and Habor by the river of Gozan, and in the cities of the Medes.” Halah is Supposed to have been a district on the upper Khabour or Habor, a tributary of the Euphrates. The issue of the siege of Samaria is also referred to by Isaiah (x. 10–13). From this captivity the Israelites have never returned is a nation. The Ten Tribes were dispersed, und their fate is one of the mysteries of history. it is known that many of the Israelites tetained heir national characteristics and individuality, and it is supposed they formed colonies in 7arious eastern countries; “but,” says a recent writer, “the great majority merged into the heathen mass around them, and though their (lescendants to this day may be traced amongst the Afghans and elsewhere, as a people they still continue to be lost beyond the power of human recognition.” There are traces of Mosaic customs, rites and ceremonies, among people of various parts of eastern Asia—even, We believe, in some districts of China ; and the Afghans, we know, retain Israelitish names with some modifications (as Yakoub for Jacob), and claim a descent from Saul, king of Israel. There is an Assyrian bas-relief representing Israelites bringing tribute to the king, in which, as in the paintings on the walls of Egyptian temples, the characteristic Hebrew features are preserved. The dissensions in Assyria about the time of the death of Shalmaneser appear to have encouraged some of the princes * of Babylonia to make an attempt gº. of to recover their independe abylonia, p Il Cé. Tiglath-Pileser had, in the temple of Bel, Solemnly assumed the title of King of Babylon, and made Sacrifices to the god, and his suc- cessor and Sargon, the new ruler of Assyria, claimed to retain the dignity. A Chaldean of great ability and subtlety, Merodach-baladan, had gained the favour of Tiglath-Pileser by making costly presents, and so avoiding the confiscation of his own lands, on the banks of the Euphrates. His people are described as “half-traders and half-pirates,” and he was practically ruler over the whole district bordering on the Gulf of Persia. Having gained the adhesion of the Chaldean tribes, he formed an alliance with Humba-nigas, king of Elam (a powerful state lying to the south of Assyria and afterwards incorporated in the Persian empire); and, while Sargon was engaged in Syria, conquered Babylon, 722 B.C., and pro- claimed himself king. Samaria was taken, the last king of Israel a captive, the people scattered, and in the north of Palestine Sargon was supreme. Leaving able governors to secure his new conquests, the energetic king marched swiftly towards Baby- lonia. The Elamite king met him at Dur, or Duran, near the Assyrian frontier. A fierce battle ensued, and Humba-nigas was driven back into his country #:#; with great loss. From that time g t the power of Elam, once so great and important a kingdom, declined, and not long afterwards it was virtually a province of the great Assyrian empire. Sargon continued his march, and made captives of some of the tribes who had allied themselves with Merodach-baladan, but was unable to advance to Babylon and attack the new king, for events in Syria and the regions around Ararat demanded his attention. In the latter district a league against Assyrian power was being formed by the influence of King Ursa. At Hamath, in Syria, Ilu-bihid, an adventurer, had announced himself king, and receiving encouragement and promise of assist- ance from Sibahe of Egypt, headed a revolt ; and Arpad, Simirta, Damas, Samaria, indeed the whole of Palestime, which Sargon and his immediate predecessors had subdued, pro- claimed their independence of Assyria. At the head of an immense army, Sargon advanced towards Gargar (Aroer), the old capital of the Amorite kingdom, on the eastern side of AAWCIENT' EIISTOR Y. 465 *— Jordan, where Ilu-bihid had established him- Self. The city fell before the fierce attack of the Assyrians. Ilu-bihid was captured and flayed alive, and the city was burned. The ruins, now known as Arāir, stand on the brow of a hill overlooking the Wady Mojeb, the ravine through which runs the river Arnon, The district of Hamath was placed under an Assyrian governor, and a colony of several thousand Assyrians placed there. Advancing southwards, Sargon invaded Judah, where he was opposed, near Raphia, “on the road to Egypt,” by a large army of Philistines, led by Hanum, king of Gaza, and a considerable Egyptian contin- gent sent by Sibahe, one of the kings of the Ethiopian dynasty. The interference of Egypt at this time was Invasion of Judea. §§§sº S& the prelude to the great contest of the two powers, Assyria and Egypt, for what was then virtually universal dominion. The allies were defeated, Raphia burned, and the king of Gaza sent a captive to Assyria. During the three years ensuing, Sargon was engaged in constant warfare in the eastern part of his dominions with rebellious princes, whose names have left no record in history, and whose territories it is now very difficult, indeed almost impossible, to identify. Those who refused to pay tribute were sent, with their wives and children, into captivity, and their provinces were bestowed on others who had been more subservient. In 717 B.C., Pisiri, prince of Karchemish, who had been faithful to Assyria since his defeat by Tiglath-Pileser, showed symptoms of , revolt, and formed an alliance with the king of Muski, whose WOL. I. ** º . territories lay to the west, bordering on the vast sheet of water now known as the Black Sea. The allies were unable to compete with the warlike Sargon, who advanced against Karchemish, the old capital of the great Hittite kingdom, and captured it. The king, Pisiri, with his family and the officers of his house- hold, was captured, and enormous treasures of gold, silver, furniture, and ornaments were forwarded by the conqueror to the royal treasury at Kaleh. In pursuance of the old policy of obliterating nationalities, the people of Karchemish were distributed throughout the Assyrian empire, and the city was colonized by Assyrians, and placed under the rule of a military governor. A year after Karchemish had fallen, a very Capture of Rarchemish, ~ º sº powerful confederacy was formed against Assyria in the countries to the north and east. King Ursa, of Ararat, was one of the most indomitable oppo- nents of Sargon, as he had been of the preceding monarchs of Assyria, and he found a willing ally in Miti, king of Muski, who seized the opportunity of renewing the war which had been interrupted by the defeat of the Hittite king, Pisiri. Weaker kings and chiefs joined the standard of revolt, and the people of a small tributary state, Minni, the king of which had remained faithful to Assyria, rose against him and murdered him by throw- ing him over a cliff. Terrible was the retribu- tion. Sargon advanced with a large force. devastated the province, seized the leader of the rebellion, and flayed him alive on the spot where the king had been murdered. The 3') 466 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. brother of the late king was raised to the royal dignity; but immediately Saigon had departed he cast in his lot, with the king of Ararat. Sargon returned, burned Izirtu, the chief city of Minni, and other towns. The king, who with his family had taken refuge in the mountains, appears to have been a poor cowardly creature, and abjectly begged, the conqueror to be merciful. Sargon, perhaps from some reasons of policy (for mercy is very rarely conspicuous in Assyrian annals), restored him to his throne ; but another prince, Assur-liha, of Kar-alla, was captured and flayed alive. Other chiefs were with their families made captives, and their dominions added to Assyria, the names of the chief cities being changed and Assyrian governors appointed. Median chiefs submitted—only too glad, it may be supposed, literally to save their skins by paying heavy tribute. In a few months the king of Minni was again in revolt, and ceded to the king of Ararat twenty-two cities and other ter- ritory to purchase his support. Ursa, how- ever, never received the bribe, for Sargon re-entered the country, and captured and annexed the cities. Mita, king of Muska, was then defeated; and leaving an Assyrian general to govern the annexed territory, the conqueror made an expedition into Arabia, where there had been rebellious movements, conquered a powerful tribe, and sent the people as captives to the cities of Samaria, in accordance with the policy of confusing, or even destroying, mationalities. % ºf iº §§ º ºº : Šºšežs s ><. X 2.-- [- > S ºSNSA f zº, a -* ºiſ. J. - *—— SSNN\\\\\ | 21 27 7272222* exº~ that the attraction of one spherical body on another would be exactly the same as if the entile force of attraction were placed at the centre of the sphere. He found no difficulty in giving a mathe- matical proof of this, and thus accounted for the fact that the attraction of the Sun and planets seemed as if it resided in their Centres. He next showed that the motions of the Satellites of Saturn and Jupiter were in accord with the theory of gravitation. Newton then took a crucial test of his theory —the inequalities in the motion of the moon. We have already seen that the planets move round the sun in fixed ellipses, and are not disturbed by any irregularities in their motion. But we have also seen that the moon, though moving round the earth in an ellipse, does so in an ellipse which is always slowly changing its position, and that the moon does not move uniformly in this ellipse, but is liable to Several inequalities in its motion. Now, it was evident to Newton that if the theory of uni- Attraction of a sphere, *::::: SS- 4 S -ºx *: C2 & sºl- Y, Cº: C-1 \ \- C.Y. V. Vº2. t ſ H. 2E - * — -- º ºft. * §ſº -ſº & º, sº º º “º. .” º: gº. Sºi...º. AN O RRIERY. tracted by those of the planets. Otherwise, why should the earth attract the moon and not the sun ? He therefore at once arrived at the famous law of universal gravitation, the law that every particle of matter in the universe attracts every other particle, with a force vary- ing inversely as the square of the distance between them, and directly as the mass of the attracting particle. Newton felt that this was only a theory—the true theory as we know now, but at that time merely a theory, which might or might not be true. He felt that something more was required to prove its correctness. He therefore devoted his time to seeing whether it would not explain other features of the solar system beyond merely accounting for the moon and planets moving in ellipses round their primaries placed in one of the foci of the ellipse, and showing that the moon moved in an orbit under the influence of a force exactly equal to that of terrestrial gravitation. From the symmetrical way in which the particles are arranged in a sphere, Newton saw versal gravitation were correct it must be capable of accounting for these peculiarities in the motion of Does the theory the moon. He determined to as- of gravitation certain if it did. Had the earth explain the and moon been by themselves, d.º.º. Newton knew that gravity could moon ? not account for these inequali- ties ; he saw that their source must be looked for in the attraction of some other body. His attention was immediately directed to the sun —by far the largest body in the solar system, and therefore the most likely to exercise the most powerful attraction. It was evident that from the attraction of the sun on the moon, this body could not move round the earth in the same manner as it would were it not for this attraction, for otherwise we should have a variable force always acting and yet never producing any effect. Newton was led, there- fore, to carefully calculate, by means of his own splendid mathematical processes, the exact effect of the attraction of the sun on the moon in its motion around the earth. To his great º ASTRONOMY. -* satisfaction, he found it account for every one, the theory of gravity showing that the moon , should move in the irregular way Newton i. * it did move, and giving the same *P** value for the inequalities that they were known to have. He felt he had now demonstrated the truth of the law of gravita- tion, and he was content. When Halley reached Cambridge, in August 1684, he propounded his problem to Newton. To his great delight he learnt that Newton had not only completely solved his problem, but had gone much further, and in a series of a dozen propositions had given a rigid proof of the principal laws governing the motion of bodies under the action of a force like gravity. These demonstrations were transmitted to Halley after his return to London, and com- municated by him to the Royal Society of London. Halley paid another visit to Newton, and learnt of the further investigations of the philosopher—namely, those on the motion of the moon—and at the earnest Solicitation of Halley, Newton promised to send an Halley induces account of his researches to the jº. Royal Society. In April 1686 j Newton redeemed his promise by sending the first part of his great work, entitled Philosophiae Naturalis Principia, Mathematica, and commonly termed The Principia. Later on he sent to Halley the remaining portion, and in 1687 the whole was printed and published at the sole expense of Halley. It does not come within our scope to give an account of the numerous grand discoveries and elegant investigations contained in the Prin- cipia, the most important scientific work that had ever been published. We must be content with briefly mentioning that it showed how the problems of mechanics, such as the motions of different bodies, could be reduced to problems of pure mathematics, and in this manner solved the principal problems of the mechanism of the heavens. It showed the principal known phe- nomena of astronomy were to be fully explained on the theory of gravitation. Besides account- ing for the motion of the moon ,, and planets, it explained how gravitation accounted for the phenomena of the tides, for the motion of the polar axis of the earth, and for the motion of comets. It showed how the figure of the earth must be a sphere slightly flattened at the poles, or be, as it is called, an oblate spheroid ; and it showed how the force of gravity would vary at different places on the earth ; and in an investigation of the properties of the pendulum, explained why Richer had found a pendulum beating seconds in Paris lost time when it was carried to the equator. This grand work of Newton attracted the immediate attention of the scientific world. In England it made immense Newton’s “Principia, Newton's progress, and was generally ac- º: cepted as true by all the prin- sº à cipal men of science. The rising fngland, mathematicians of the day at once accepted and expounded its teachings, and as the older professors were 469 replaced it was at once introduced into the Universities. The Scottish Universities took it, up first, at the instance of the eminent mathe- maticians David and James Gregory. Keil introduced it at Oxford, and afterwards Clarke and Whiston at Cambridge. On the Continent it was received with caution, the older astronomers and mathe- maticians regarding it with doubt; some, in fact, like Cassini, Huygens, and Maraldi. rejecting it. Leibnitz, the Bernouillis, and other mathematicians regarded it with some hostility and jealousy, but this might have been removed by Newton's further examination. Some years rº. went by, when a slight event §. settled the question. A French mathematician remarked that Leibnitz' method of infinitesimal calculus was the first account published, giving him the right of priority. Later, De Duillier, another mathematician, re- torted that the testimony of his friends showed that Newton was the first inventor of this method, and that Leibnitz might have really taken his ideas from Newton, as Newton had Sent him some information on the subject in 1676. This was a spark which - gave rise to a tremendous explo- Quarrels sion. Leibnitz denied the charge._between adhe. Newton's friends, Keil, Cotes,”. §ºn Pemberton, Taylor, reiterated it, t and brought down on them the Bernouillis and the adherents of Leibnitz. The quarrel waxed strong and vigorous, charges met charges, strife engendered strife, until bitter hostility divided the English from the Continental mathematicians, and prejudice reigned trium- phant over all. On the one hand, the English mathematicians despised and condemned every- thing advocated by the Continental mathema- ticians, and absolutely refused to take heed of or make any use of the great developments they were effecting in the infinitesimal calculus. They confined themselves to praising and dwelling on the achievements of Newton, doing little to advance the method of fluxions or to extend still more the discoveries he had made. On the other hand, the Continental astronomers refused to have anything to do with either Newton or his disciples, and aware of the superior condition of the differential and integral calculus of Leibnitz, looked with scorn on the less perfectly developed method of fluxions. They thus rejected almost un- examined the grand discovery of Newton, and prejudiced left the Principia almost unread. Only when time had removed the adherents On each side did this bitter but needless quarrel fall to the ground. But it left its mark deeply scored. Though on the Continent the truth slowly made its power felt, and the new generation of mathematicians took up Newton's work and by series after series of brilliant discoveries carried it to a pinnacle of glory which had never been dreamt of by its author, yet in England mathematical astronomy slept for a century, and when the English mathematicians awoke they found themselves a century behind their Continental rivals. * - * 470 THE UAVIVERSAL INSTRUCTOIC, XVI. EXERCISE ON THE FOREGOING, STUDY (see p. 448), FoR TRANSLATION INTO GERMAN, TO BE CORRECTED BY THE GERMAN WER- SION GIVEN BELOW. THE Austrians fought (delivered) a great battle near the village (of) Wagram, not far from Vienna. Many dead and wounded soldiers lay on the fields. Among the thousands was (the) Major von Wolf. On the second day he awoke from his swoon. He languished for thirst, and begged for water. There lay also on the field among the corpses the faithful trooper Weit. He was also heavily wounded; but he crept on his (the) hands to a pool, and brought (to) the major water in his helmet. The officer tears the helmet out of his hand (translate, tears to him the helmet out of the hand) and drinks; and then he says to his faithful trooper, “There, drink thou also l’’ But the trooper breathed heavily, and his head sank to (the) ground ; he wanted it no more ; he was dead. The major could not repay him for his preservation (translate, the major could to him his preservation not repay). GERMAN WERSION.—GIVEN IN THE WRITTEN CHARACTER, TO BE AVAILABLE ALSO AS AN EXERCISE IN CALIGRAPHY. /2% &zzº. 4%. Zzz zzzzz yº. 4%% Die Oesterreicher lieferten Schlacht eine grosze 42. 2%, 2% &raz.2 */ zezzº 22.2/22 &%22. bei dem DOTfe Wagram & e/ & Z. // & ZZ. Z 2% 2% 22* azzeº,2% Žiž. /ZZZ * Wiele todte und verwundote 2%, ~4.%2. den Foldern Unter 2%zo. 2%2, Z/2Z. 24% &. Major WO]] Wolf Am 22% arº /* %,”/4 eT all IS seiner Ohmmacht */4% zºza 44%. und flehte UlDOl Wasser. • 4.4% 222222* 2%, –22.2%. den nicht weit VOI). Wien. */ Soldaten lagen auf %2. %2 4. 2%, C&Czz %22%, 27/2 C22%" 2%. Tausenden Walſ der yze” & “y” 2%2%“ZZZ-C& 22.2/k Zweiten Tage erwachte 2. 4/44 22.22%" 2% Er lechzte WOT Durst 2% 4. e Z 2 24 ‘C’. “y. tº-zz/Z C&zz ZZZZ Da. lag auch auf dem %24, 24.2/ // 4. ele 224227& 2%2%zz/2 Felde unter den Leichen * W3T auch Schwer Weit. der treue Reiter el/ e/ 222 & 7%t */ Žezr ozzo, 22% ^320-22, 22. */ verwundet, abor er kroch (2/ A. Z e.” e wº 2%, %t //ZZ y” Zrzzzzz.” -2&/. 22.2% 4a/2. auf den IIänden ZUl einer Lache und brachte PHYSICAI, GEO GRAPIſ Y. 471 2%, 2%zo. Ø%. 2% zzz 2%.” 24”. /2%. dem Major Wassor in seincrim Helme. Der - el/ ~ 6. %z. zzºŽ 2. 2%, £24. ~2% ZZZZZK. *% 2 Offizier reiszt ihm den FIolm 3.T1S dor IIand, und 42.2% ºf 2% & A / s. 42.32, Ž.2% 2.7%22z 2 º, zzZZZZ Z-C& ZZZZ ‘C’ & Z% 2” ZZAZZZZZZ (C2%ZZZZZZ 2% zzº, trinkt, und dann Sagt er y J. J. / aſ ſ º elz el/ • /2%, 42.2% /2% */ (2424. 2% %22% *24 trink Du auch ! Da, 2%azz, Schwer, d sein IIaupt el’ º 4.2% Z 24° 2% zzzzzzzº, zz” zzzzzz' 24.2% 2%. bedurfte €S nicht mehr, ZUl seinem treuen Reiter, Aber der Reiter athmete * 2%. %aº 24.2% y” -%2%,2' 24- sank Zll Boden €I' €I’ W3.I’ todt. DCT 2%2. 2%, 2.4 2.2%zz %22% …? ozyzº. Major konnte ihm seine Rottung nicht vergelten. §§§7% ICAL GEOGRAPHY 3º 97. E - º ** § - - % º ſº: §§§ 3". SS A º Sºº XIV. PLAINS. THE term “plain" is geographically applied to an extent of generally flat country, having but a slight elevation above the level of the sea, and being in some instances below it. The description does not intimate perfect com- formity of surface, for a plain may be undulated, studded with low hills, or travelsed by valleys and intersected by ravines. The great European plain extends over a por- tion of the central and nearly the whole of the - south-eastern parts of the con- Grº. * tinent, and includes about two- * thirds of the entire surface. It extends from the centre of France on the west to the Oural (or Ural) Mountains and the Caucasus on the east ; and throughout Russia from the Arctic Ocean to the Black Sea, extend- ing into Asia to the Caspian Sea and the borders of Turkestan, by the vast districts known as “steppes” (from a Russian word meaning a large plain). Some of these steppes are fertile, others stony or sandy descrts. The most noticeable plain of southern Europe is the plain of Lom- bardy, a low-lying district, through which the Po and other rivers rising on the Southern slopes of the Alps flow to the Adriatic Sea. In the south of France there is a large Sandy plain between the Gironde estuary and the Pyrenees; and the plain of Hungary, forming the northern basin of the Theiss and Danube, is of considerable extent. The most extensive plain in Asia is in Siberia —in the north—a barren, frozen region; and to the south-east are the Plains of Asi plains of Mongolia, in which the ***** great river Hoang-ho takes its rise. The plain of Hindostan is between the Himalayas and the Deccan plateau, and is watered by the Indus and the Ganges. We have mentioned the steppes, in the western part of the con- tinent, connected with the plains of south- eastern Europe. The most remarkable plain of Africa– indeed, one of the most remarkable in the world—is the great desert of Sahara, in the north-west. This, with the Libyan desert on the east (separated from the Sahara by the fertile district, Fezzan), extends from west to east for about 2,600 miles, with a breadth varying from 600 to 1,200 miles, Farther south is the fertile plain of the Soudan, including the basin of Lake Chad and the southern portion of the basin of the Niger, or Quorra. The plains of America are very extensive and of a striking character. In North America is the great central plain, ex- º tending from the Gulf of Mexico . of to the Arctic Ocean and Hudson's |I|\ellC3, Bay, and estimated to contain 2,430,000 square miles. Broken by the Appalachians and other chains, this vast plain may be considered to represent the great eastern or Atlantic slope of the Rocky Mountains. It may be divided into two regions, with physically distinct characteristics—a western region, rising to Plains of Africa, 4,000 and 6,000 feet, and three great basins of 472 THE UAVTVERSA I, IVSTRUCTO H. ! : v river and lacustrine drainage, with an elevation of from 500 to 700 feet. This tract is traversed by the great rivers Missouri and Mississippi, receiving the waters of other im- portant streams, and presents different features in different regions. The tracts of low-lying land known as prairies, and in the south as Savannahs, are of three kinds—“heathy or bushy,” producing fruits and flowers; “rolling prairies,” with gently undulating surfaces, and little vegetation ; and “moist prairies,” with stagnant pools, and abounding in tall, rank grass. There are also “barrens,” dry, unfertile and more elevated, near the mountains, and “pine-barrens,” or sandy districts producing little except pine-trees, in the south. The South American plains are known as “llanos” (level fields) and “pampas” (an Indian word, having a similar signification). The whole of the interior of the continent, from Venezuela in the north to the extreme South, an extent of nearly 4,500 miles, is a continuous lowland. The plains of the Orinoco, chiefly on the left of that river, extending from the coast to the Andes, occupy a surface of about 260,000 square miles, and are so little elevated that in the wet season, when the river and its tributaries are swollen, great inundations occur. The forest-covered plains of the Amazon, the “Selvas,” as they are some- times named, also extend from the coast to the Andes, and present the most extensive mass of dense forest in the world, interspersed in a few places by open patches of grass and moist lands. The entire area of this wonderful district is about 2,000,000 square miles, little less than that of the whole of Russia in Europe. In the southern part of the continent are the “pampas,” including many vast treeless plains, the northern part extending from the Parana river to the Andes, and presenting an alternation of woods, swamps, Salt lagoons, and grassy plains, with coarse vegetation. Farther South are dry and sterile Tegions. WALLEYS AND DEPRESSIONS. Valleys are the hollows formed by opposite ranges of hills or mountains, and, according to their direction, are known as longitudinal, transverse, and lateral, Longitudinal valleys separate parallel ridges of a chain, and follow its general course ; transverse valleys cut the ridges in an angular direction ; and lateral valleys are those that lead into the others. All serve as channels for the collected waters of the streams, which rise on the slopes, and then become the beds of streams. The sides of transverse valleys (known variously as gorges, defiles, ravines, and glens) are generally steep, and the streams falling into them are mountain torrents, rushing with great velocity, and form- ing falls and cataracts; but in the longitudinal valleys, which ordinarily have more gently sloping sides and longer courses, the rivers flow more tranquilly. Some valleys are broad and open, the elevated borders sloping gradually ; others are nearly circular or oval in form, surrounded by moun- tains; and others are narrow gorges, enclosed, except at the narrow openings at each end, by nearly precipitous rocks. In Colorado, and other parts of western America, these gorges, or “cañons,” are mere clefts in mountains, through which narrow streams make their way, and with almost perpendicular walls several thousand feet high. In some of the valleys of the Cordilleras, South America, the steep sides are nearly three times the height of the breadth of the valley. A cleft in the Rocky Mountains of North America, through which the Missouri river passes, is only 450 feet wide, and six miles long, the walls being precipices 1,200 feet high. Other transverse valleys are at a great eleva- tion, and afford means of crossing mountain chains, otherwise impassable. In the Alps they are known as cols Valley passes. (Fr. defiles); several of them are at an eleva- tion of more than 12,000 feet above the sea ; and on the Pennine Alps the col of Lys Joch, between Zermatt and Val de Lys, is over 14,000 feet in elevation. Of equal height above the sea level are some of the passes in the Asiatic chains of the Himalaya and the Hindoo-Koosh; and the pass of Mangrang, in the former chain, has an elevation of 18,500 feet. Many of the valleys and passes of the Andes are above the level of all but the very loftiest peaks of the Alps. Some longitudinal valleys are at a consider- able elevation, the valleys through which the upper Rhine and Rhone flow being from 1,200 to 2,000 feet V. Of º above the sea level. It was men- . tioned, in reference to mountains, º that similarity of geological formation was fre- quently observable in detached masses, showing that some great convulsion had broken the con- tinuity; and thisis very apparent in many longi- tudinal and transverse valleys, especially the latter. Hence, they are known as Valleys of dislocation, and are frequently of considerable breadth, showing that the force which rent asunder the mountain range must have been far greater than any exertion of volcanic or earthquake force with which we are histori- cally acquainted. In the Andes are chasms of this kind, nearly a mile in depth. Not only do the strata exhibit parallelism, but projections and cavities on either side exactly correspond. Walleys of denudation are those in which the action upon soft strata has considerably modified the appearance of the valley originally produced by the convulsion which upheaved the adjacent mountains. The most striking valley of the Alps, and typical of the longitudinal valleys, is the Valais, between the Bernese and Pennine Alps, nearly 100 miles long and R with a breadth varying from a quarter of a mile to three miles. The differences of temperature and vegetation in this remarkable valley are phenomenal. The deepest of Euro- pean valleys is that of Ordesa, near Mont Perdu, in the Pyrenees, the enclosing mountains having an elevation of about 3,200 feet above the bottom of the valley. The valley of the Rhine, after the river quits Switzerland, is renowned for the beauty of the enclosing hills. In Asia, the vale of Cashmere, eighty miles long and thirty wide, formed by the stupen- exmarkable valleys, s sº-sº a sº--- - - ------" " " " - PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY". 4.73 dous ridges of the Himalaya, is one of the most fertile and beautiful in the world—“a garden of flowers and fruits in the bosom of ice.” The upper valleys of the Ganges and Jumna, and the valley of the Jordan in Syria, are narrow with precipitous sides—striking examples of mountain gorges. Africa affords a remarkable instance of a narrow valley with precipitous rocky sides, in the valley of the Nile, which in Nubia is little more than a mile in breadth. . When noticing in detail the physical geography of this conti- ment, the valleys through which the Zambesi and other great rivers of Southern Africa flow will be indicated. The great rocky valleys of western North America and of South America demand more minute notice than is appropriate to this general view. The Yosemite valley, in A great depression, occupying many, thou- sands of square miles, is in Western Asia, the Caspian Sea and Lake Aral form- ing the lowest part. The surface of the Caspian is 83 feet below that of the Black Sea. It can scarcely be doubted that the great desert of Sahara, in Africa, and the depressed region in the western half of Australia, were at one time the beds of the ocean. The former is a sandy district of immense extent, with shallow salt lakes and oases, or fertile spots— probably islands in a former age; and the latter, hearly a million square miles in extent, with scanty and coarse vegetation, has few fresh water springs, and is interspersed with salt marshes and lakes. Depression of Western Asia, Ancient sea-beds, FORMATION OF MOUNTAINS. California, is for beauty of scenery, stupendous cataracts, and isolated peaks, one of the Won- ders of the world. DEPRESSIONS AND ANCIENT OCEAN BEDS. There are, in various parts of the World, many remarkable depressions or cavities of immense extent, some of them enclosing , Salt lakes, evidently the relics of QCeans which at some former period occupied the space. Others, of a nearly circular form, and drained by rivers passing through chasms in the adjacent moun- tains, as in Bohemia, were doubtless at One timeiake beds. Around some basins or depres: sions of this kind are successive terraces covered with gravel, which appear to have been the shores of lakes at different periods. . The “parallel roads” of Glenroy, in Scotland, are instances. In other cases, the ancient beaches have probably been raised by internal forces. DESERTS. In old writings the word “desert,” implies an uninhabited tract, whether fertile but un- occupied, or barren and therefore “ deserted.” Geographically, the term is limited to the large tracts of sand, gravel, rocky masses, flints and siliceous stones of which there are so many in the continents of the eastern hemisphere, but which are of rare occurrence in the two Americas. Regions of this desolate character stretch in a nearly continuous zone from the Atlantic Ocean through the north of Africa and Central Asia towards the Pacific. In some deserts, as in those mentioned above, there is clear evidence of ocean or lacustrine beds; but others are of greater elevation. In Asia are the deserts of Arabia—stony in the north-western part, Arabia Petrea, and sandy farther south; the deserts of Syria and Mesopotamia, Independent Tartary, Persia (the 474 TEIE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Great Salt Desert occupying nearly a third of the whole country), the desert of Afghanistan, and the deserts of Sinde and Thurr. We have noticed, in the description of table-lands, the great desert of Gobi, which has many salt lakes and Springs, and soil generally of a Saline character. " p , t The Great American Desert is to the south of the Columbia river, between the mountain chain of the Sierra Nevada in California, and the Rocky Mountains; and there is an extensive tract of desert on the eastern side of the same mountains around the head of the affluents of the Missouri. The soil consists of sand or gravel, and there are beds of rock salt and salt Springs. In South America are extensive sandy deserts surrounding the head waters of the Paraguay river, to the west of which is another large desert, El Grand Chaco, and, still farther north, a true Salt desert, Las Salinas. The great shingle desert extends for 800 miles through Eastern Patagonia. Altogether the deserts of the Old and New Worlds and Australia occupy about 7,000,000 Square miles of the earth's surface, nearly twice the area of the continent of Europe. XVIII. THE WERB “SUM' AND ITS COMPOUNDS. THE verb Sum, I am, which is partly a verb of eatistence, and partly an auxiliary verb—that is, Ofie helping the conjugation of another verb (for without it the passive verb cannot be con- jugated)—is thus conjugated: INDICATIVE MOOD. I. PRESENT TENSE. Singular. Pluq'al. sum I am simiis we are ©S thou art estis ye are , est he is . sunt they are 2. FUTURE-SIMPLE TENSE. Singular. Plural. £ro I shall be ëris thou wilt be ārītis ye will be ërit he will be ërunt they will be ‘’. IMPERFECT TENSE. ërimūs we shall be Singular. Plural. êram 'I was ërāmūs we were ërås thou wast ërătis ye were ërät he was êrant they were 4. PERFECT TENSE. Singular. fui I have been, or I was fuisti thou hast been, or thou wast fuit he has been, or he was Pluº'al. fuímis we have been, or we were fuistis ye have been, or ye were fuêrunt * r or fuéré they have been, or they were 5. FUTURE-PERFECT TENSE. Singular. fuèro I shall have been ~x. fuëris thou wilt have been fuërit he will have been Pluq'al. fuërimūs we shall have been fuëritis ye will have been fuérint they will have been 6. PLUPERFECT TENSE. Singular. fuêram I had been fuèrås thou hadst been fuèrät he had been Plum'al. fuèrāmūs we had been fuèrătis ye had been fuérant they had been IMPERATIVE MOOD. 1. PRESENT TENSE. Singular. Plural. ës be thou esté be ye 2. FUTURE TENSE, or Emphatic Imperative. Singular. estö thou shalt or must be e8tó he shall or must be, or let him be Plural. estäté ye shall or must be Sunto they shall or must be, Or let them be SUBJUNCTIVE MOOD, PRESENT IMPERFECT TENSE. Singular. sim I am, shall be, may, would, or should * be sis thou art, shalt be, mayest, wouldest, OT shouldest be sit he is, shall be, may, would, or should be Platº'al. Simuş we are, shall be, may, would, or should be sitis you are, shall be, may, would, or should be sint they are, shall be, may, would or should be PAST IMPERFECT. Singular. essem or forem I was or were, or might, would, or should be thou wast or wert, or mightest, wouldest, or shouldest be he was or were, or might, would, or should be esses or fores esset or foret HISTOI& Y OL MODERN TIMES. 47 5 Platral. essèmus or foremus we were, or might, would, or should be you were, or might, would or should be they were, or might, would or should be PRESENT PERFECT. Singular. essétis or foretis essent or forent füerim I have been, or may have been füeris thou hast been, or mayest have been füérit he has been, or may have been Plural. füérimus we have been, or may have been füéritis you have been, or may have been füérint they have been, or may have been PAST PERFECT. Singular. fuissem I had been, or might, should or would have been fuisses thou hadst been, or mightest, shouldest, or wouldest have becn fuisset he had been, or might, should or would have been Plural. fuissèmus we had been, or might, should or would have been fuissétis you had been, or might, should or would have been fuissent they had been, or might, would or should have been INFINITIVE MOOD. PRESENT OR PAST IMPERFECT INFINITIVE. GSSé to be FUTURE INFINITIVE. fore or futiirus, a, um, esse to be about to be PRESENT OR PAST PERFECT INFINITIVE. fuisse to have been FUTURE PARTICIPLE. futiirus, a um about to be Tocabulary.—Like sum are conjugated its compounds, as absum I am absent adsum I am present, stand by, side with désum I am wanting in sum I am in intersum I am among obsum I am in the way, am hurtful to, injure praesum I am before, am at the head of prüsum I am serviceable, do good to subsum I am under, or amongst sūpersum I remain over, survive Almost all these compounds of Sum are fol- lowed by the Dative Case; but Sum itself takes after it the case that goes before it, as if a nominative before, then a nominative after, if an accusative before, then an accusative after. They are conjugated like Sum, but Prosum takes d before e, as TNDICATIVE. PRESENT. Singular. Plural. prosum prüsümüs prédés prüdestis prüdest prüsunt FUTURE. IMIPERFECT. prodèro prúdéram INFINITIVE. PRESENT AND IMPERFECT. prüdesse. THE TUDOR PERIOD IN ENGLAND. Henry VIII. (continued). To deny this supremacy of the king was declared high treason ; but to speak against the pope's authority was no heresy. Two eminent men incurred the king's displeasure by refusing the oath of succession and denying the king's Supremacy : Fisher, ... tº the venerable bishop of Rochester, Bishºsher and the ex-chancellor Sir Thomas nº.re More. The advanced age of Fisher, e and the noble firmness with which he main- tained his objections, rendered him an object of general respect and sympathy. Paul III., the successor of Clement, had sent him a cardinal's hat during his imprisonment ; this seems to have inflamed the jealous fury of Henry, who swore that he should bave “never a head to wear it on.” More, with the single exception of his intolerant zeal for the Romish Church and consequent Tancour against the Reformers, was one of the best men that period had pro- duced,—wise in council, affectionate in family life, incorruptible in his office. The love of his daughter, Margaret Roper, has thrown a halo round the last days of this great and good man. His memory has been further embalmed by his friend Erasmus, who survived him just long enough to tell, with his own eloquence, the story of the great chancellor's death. But Erasmus was always timid. He disguised the narrative under an imaginary name. Two eminent men chiefly guided the king's counsels at this time—Cranmer and Cromwell. The former was a man of good intentions, willing to doright, but ºne and with not sufficient courage to c. resist evil. He was highly valued e by Henry for his quickness of resource and his complying spirit. It was chiefly nnder Cranmer's offices that the changes in the English Church, up to the reign of Mary, were effected. Thomas Cromwell, a man of bumble Origin, had won his way into the good graces of Wolsey, who appointed him his solicitor. After the cardinal's fall, Cromwell's services 476 THE UNIVERSA I, IVSTRUCTOR. were transferred to the king, who found in him an apt and ready instrument of tyranny, and after his fashion, admitted him to almost boundless power for a time, only to make him at the last a striking example of the wretched- ness “of that poor man who hangs on princes' favours.” For a time he was the vicegerent of Henry in ecclesiastical matters, and, so long as he served his imperious master successfully, was loaded with rewards. Henry had now determined to exercise his authority by the Sup- pression of monastic institutions in England, rightly considering that in the inhabitants of institutions deriving their chief importance from the papacy, he should find his chief enemies. Accordingly, Cromwell, as vicar- general, employed commissioners, who insti- tuted a vigorous investigation into the lives and conduct of the friars. Beginning with those small convents which had not an in- come of £200 a year, a System of suppression was commenced, of the shrine of Thomas à Becket in Canterbury Cathedral. Becket was proclaimed a traitor; his ashes were cast to the winds, his name was expunged from the Calendar, and the jewels and gold from his shrine were seized by the king. These proceedings aroused horror and dismay in many quarters. Houseless monks were scat- tered all over the country, arousing the popular anger with tales of the sacrilege and impiety of the spoilers. Dan- gerous insurrections were the consequence, the most important being the “Pilgrimage of Grace.” About forty thousand men, accompanied by priests bearing crucifixes and banners with holy emblems, took part in this enterprise. They declared their object to be the extirpation of heresy, and their motives love for the person of the king, and zeal for the honour of God and the country. Partly through the politic measures of the Duke of Norfolk, who was sent Pilgrimage of Grace. and greatly | elaborated as it was found that the peo- ple made no Opposition. In thosemon- asteries that surrendered their reve- nues to Crom- well's agents, the monks re- ceived small pensions. The you n ger monks and In Ul In S W ere dismissed. After nearly four hundred of t he se smaller mon- asteries had ~ º | against the | insurgents, these riots were quelled w i t h O ut i bloodshed; ; but in a later insurrection it became necessary to act vigorously against the rebels, many of who m were slain. The “ Pil- grimage " of Grace, and the subse- quent insur- rections, gave |||s Henry the * opportunity of carrying W Fº *=== W == been sup- pressed, the turn of the larger establishments came ; for the revenue of £32,000, besides £100,000 in ready money and plate, that accrued to the king from the first spoliation, had whetted his appetite for further plunder. In 1539, accordingly, the larger monasteries shared the fate of the smaller establishments, and were suppressed. The king in this matter accepted the advice of one of his courtiers, to “butter the rooks' nests”; or, in plain English, to admit the nobles and P gentry to a share of the enormous ...” booty, to purchase their conni- urch estajnts, vance. On the otherhand, by the erection of six new bishoprics, and the conversion of fourteen abbeys into colle- giate churches or cathedrals, an appearange was maintained, as the Church shared the profit made by this general spoliation of shrines, con- ventual buildings, and abbey lands. Among these acts none created a greater feeling Of dismay than the destruction, by the king's order, SIR. THOVIAS MORE AND FIIS FAMILY. On the work be gun in England, by the suppression of the monas- S $ teries.’’ He took upon himself *.* tº a tº * 5 the position of supreme arbiter 1539, in all matters connected with the tº Church. He received from his courtiers and parliament adulation that seemed more fitted for the hall of an oriental despot than the palace of a western king. . A perfect know; ledge of the Scriptures, of the art of war, and of government, was attributed to him before his face by sycophant orators; and at every recurrence of the term “most sacred majesty" the whole assembly bowed profoundly towards the throne. Such exhibitions greatly exalted the idea of kingly power; and thus the doctrine of unconditional obedience to the monarch natu- rally arose. It was far from the king's inten: tion, in severing England from the Church Of Rome, to grant freedom of opinion on religious subjects. The substitution of his own authority for that of the bishop of Rome, not the esta- EIIST'6) Hº Y OF MOD ERAW TIMES. 477 blishment of Lutheranism in England, was his aim; and thus, in 1539, the “Act for abolishing diversity of opinion,” otherwise known as the Statute of the Six Articles, was passed by a parliament with whom, except *:::::::: in matters of taxation, the king's ' word was generally law. The six articles, the refusal of any one of which laid the objector open to a charge of heresy, were these : The real presence of the body and blood of Christ in the bread and wine, at the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper—the administering of the bread only to laymen in the same Sacrament—the prohibition, by Divine law, of the marriage of priests—the observance of vows of celibacy by men and women—the utility of private masses—the practice of auricular confession. To establish uniformity of religious belief, to make all opinions and wills in theological matters sub- servient to his own, was the TE king's idea of a religious sys- || tem; and thus he allow ed neither the Catholic nor | * the Reforming sº party an un- condition a 1 triumph. For instance, the “Six Articles” seemedentirely $ i. to secure the - predominance |>. to the Roman- ists; but it was followed by the highly import- -. ant permission to every head | 1 of a household is to have a copy *: of the new *:::::::::::::: English Bible sº ---. sº in his own --- ~ * ~ * ** home—an all- - s ~. * 3. S- important point in favour of the Lutherans. surpassing that of Wolsey himself. Again the king became doubtful as to the effect of his concession, and partly retracted it, confin- ing the liberty of reading the Scriptures to gentle- e e men and merchants, who might ;... peruse their Bibles, “so that it be done quietly, and with good order.” The old mass book, also, was little altered, some obscure Saints and the pope being struck out. And, indeed, the fall of Cromwell was partly the effect of a suspicion in the breast of his savage master that the vicar-general favoured the Lutherans, and in the affair of the marriage with Anne of Cleves had sacrificed the royal inclinations and interests for the advantage of heretics. Thus, Romanists who denied the king's supremacy, and Lutherans who denied the Romish doctrines embodied in the Six Articles, alike fell under the displeasure of the implacable king, and suffered the penalties of the gallows or the stake, THE PLACE OF IMPRISO.N NIENT IN THE TOWIs tº. By this time the worst qualities of Henry's nature had been developed by excessive power and unbounded flattery ; and the darker period of his tyrannous reign had commenced. Anne Boleyn, after losing the affection of the caprici- ous tyrant, had aroused his jealousy, innocently as is generally acknowledged, but y indiscreetly, and had perished a.º.º. S fºy e Sey- on the scaffold on the 17th of ºur A.; May, 1536, only a few months cleves, after the death of Catherine of Arragon, and only one day before the marriage of the king with her rival Jane Seymour. The short reign of this new queen terminated in her death, in 1537, a few days after giving birth to the frail and delicate child on whom so many hopes were centred. And then came the unhappy negociation for the marriage of the king with Anne, daughter of the Duke of Cleves, which ultimately cost Cromwell his head. That the m a T r i a ge would greatly strengthen the influence of Henry with the Lu t he r a n º princes of Ger- many, Crom- well knew; and even his astute- ness did not š lead him to is suppose that #| disappoint- ment and dis- gust at the homely appear- ance of “the F 1 a n d e r s mare " would induce the king to sacri- fice the minis- ter who for a dozen years had served him with an obse- uious zeal But so it was ; one offence wiped out a hundred ser- vices in the savage and selfish mind of the king, and Cromwell was a doomed man even before the shamefully unjust bill of attainder against him had been hurried through the parliament. Cranmer, though often criminally weak and yielding to his master, interceded warmly for the life of Cromwell; the prisoner himself, “with trem- bling heart and heavy hand,” wrote from his dungeon an ap-Fall ºf Gromwell peal that drew tears from Henry'sa º: eyes; but no mercy was granted.”.E.” Anne of Cleves was divorced, and Cromwell was executed ; and the very day of the prisoner's death was chosen by the tyrant for the celebration of the ill-omened marriage with his fifth wife, the guilty Cathe- rine Howard ; soon to perish on the scaffold of the unfortunate Anne Boleyn, with Lady e º J- Sº 478 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Rochford, the vile calumniator who had been mainly instrumental in hurrying that guiltless though not faultless queen to her doom. It is well known with what gentle and womanly discretion the sixth wife, Catherine Parr, the widow of Lord Latimer, trod the dangerous path of greatness—how faithfully she tended the sick-bed of the sullen tyrant, as he raged like a wild beast with the agony of a loath- some disease—with what skill she turned aside the peril that menaced her, when an unwary avowal of doctrines held by the Reformers had aroused the jealous suspicion of Henry, who had even ordered articles of impeachment against her to be prepared. For the career that had begun so prosperously was ending amid perplexities and doubts ; and the mind of the king, distracted by frequent paroxysms of pain, was agitated by suspicions and fears, in the prospect of leaving the burden of a monarchy on the shoulders of his young son. Jealousy of the power of Scotland caused a war with that country, and the renewal of the contest with France. The princesses Mary and Elizabeth, once excluded from the succes- sion, were restored to their place, as heirs in case of the failure of their brother Edward’s line. The Scottish branch was excluded in favour of the heirs of Henry’s sister Mary, the wife of Brandon. The old countess of Salis- bury, daughter of the Duke of Executions of. Clarence, perished on the scaffold, *...* a sacrifice for her son Cardinal Reginald Pole, who was living Earl of Surrey, on the Continent, beyond the tyrant's grasp. The execution of the Earl of Surrey was the last act of violence Henry was destined to commit. This accomplished noble- man, and his father the Duke of Norfolk, had incurred the enmity of Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, the brother of Queen Jane Sey- mour, who seems to have inspired the dying king with the belief that the Howards would imperil the throne of the young prince Edward. On the most frivolous grounds the duke and his son were found guilty of treason. Surrey was beheaded only a week before the king's death. Norfolk's life was saved by the death of the king, a few hours Peath ºf before the order sent to the Tower jº 1:47, for his execution was to have 3. been carried into effect. On the night of January 27th, 1547, Henry expired, after feebly pressing the hand of Cranmer in token that he died in the faith of Christ. About a month before his death he had made his will, and fixed the succession in accordance with the provision made by par- liament. After his son Edward, his two daughters, the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth, were named as the next heirs; and next to these were the two daughters of his sister Mary, who had married first Louis XII. of France and afterwards Charles Brandon. ###### # THE STAFF NOTATION.—How TO FIND THD KEY. WITHOUT a knowledge of harmony it is im- possible to be perfectly rapid and certain in the power of deciding the key at * & a glance from the staff notation. A knowledge of But the reader may ask, “Cannot hºny I learn to Sol-fa from the staff “***Y" without first learning harmony ?” Certainly this can be done to a very great extent. There are at the present time thousands of readers of the staff notation in England, many of whom began by learning the Tonic Sol-fa notation, but only a small proportion of them understand harmony. Itules of general application may be given, which will prove useful, as they have proved useful to so many before. The harmonist reads the key most quickly by watching the bass, and looking for the movement from dominant to tonic (si d or m 1), which defines the key. He also watches for characteristic melodic shapes and phrases. For example, if we see this phrase — ſ] dº #==== Jº aw the signature seems to say that it is Fah Doſs Lah. Fah Doh, and there is no Te in the phrase to decide the key. But it is ten times more likely to be d' s m d s in key D. If these notes were played to us on an instrument, without Our Seeing the notation, we should all say at Once that they were d' s m d s. And this in- terpretation would most probably be right. The rules we have given in the previous chapter serve for changes of key which are gradually made, and in which the singer has time to change the De’s int Se’s, and the Zºe's and Ta's into Te’s and Fah’s. But what is he to do when the change is sudden and distant, and when three or four, or even more notes of the scale are altered, so that to attempt to Sol-fa in the original key with chromatic notes is hopeless? The first change of this sort for which thc singer must be prepared is to the tonic mino” —that is. to the relative minor of the third flat key. (See extended modulator, p. 411.) An examination of the modulator and of the minor scale will show that the notes which give the sign of this change are certainly Ma (the new JDoh), probably Lah (the new Fah), and per- haps Ta (the new Soh). IIere, for example, is a passage of this sort :— The harmonist as a reader. Sudden and distant removes. B. F. BAKD R. } ~!———º ===######### Our drearnight of hoping and fear-ing is o'cr, Our hearts are not wrung by sharp a-go-ny more. MUSIC. 479 The Ma, which the eye sees at a glance to be repeated through several measures, and the Lah, denote the “tonic minor,” and Ma is to be called Doh. But look at the eighth note of the phrase. We Sol-fa the first three notes of the measure in which it stands fºr tr; but what is the fourth note 7 Already it is raised by the signature half, a tone, and it is therefore Se without the need of a sharp or a natural. . The Singer must beware of unmarked accidentals of this sort. This is the commonest case in which they are found. Occasionally we meet with passages in recita- tives (or in classical music which uses freedom of transition) which seem to be nothing but a wilderness of sharps or flats or naturals. Nearly every note is altered; the signature is not the slightest guide to the key; and we are apt to despair of finding it. Such a passage is that given below :— - , , ; ; SULLIVAN, “H.M.S. Pinafore.” —f)--b- - T - rā- --- H-Tº-T #########F#EEEEEEEEEEEEF The mai - den treats my H wº - ... * suit with scorn, Re - jects my hum - ble • * * * : * , gift, | y t : * A ! º !---- * 1– *—- ##f=s=s===N= =HHºFEHºº-º-ÉÉNERESH ######### **::==######: As ºf * [I - * ! wº 4. - my la-dy." She says I am ig - no - bly born, And cuts my hope a - drift, my la - dy. To the singer who tries to sing “by interval,” or by “absolute pitch,” such a passage is very distressing. ‘We will show how simple it really is in the Tonic Sol-fa notation — - KEY G2. * | * a a :— ..] | S a : s 1 : t | * a a a :— .1 | S : “How easy 1” the reader will perhaps exclaim : “but how am I to decipher the key from such a labyrinth of flats?” . We will † give a simple rule. Let the order of the flats be recalled. The dia- – gram at the side will remind us that the order in which we place the flats is this :— * * * Bb, Eb, A2, D3, G2, C2, F2. We have already learnt that the last flat is Fal. If, then, we see both B flat and E flat marked in a piece, it is evident that E flat is the guiding flat, not B flat, which is covered by the more advanced E flat. In the same way A flat is further off from the natural key than E flat, C flat further off, than G flat, etc. (see diagram). In other words, to adopt a con- Let us take the same order as we did with the flats — . . . ; Bh, Eq, Ah, D#. gº, ch Fh. Now, instead of supposing ourselves in the “open" key of C, we suppose ourselves in an extreme sharp key, and have to consider how far in the direction of the natural key the music obliges us to go. Examine the naturals, and we shall see that of the three used, (Ch. Fi, and Gº), the most natural, according to out index, is F matural. Call this Fah, and : the key is found. What it is, we leave the reader to say. The rule for naturals is there- fore this :- - searched for in the same order. n > S. *** * — … * *===* -º-º-ºms. ################# the order of the sharps to be :— | d' : d d.d : m ..IIl | f : s | 1 | a a a | venient, if not a very correct phrase, “E flat is a flatter mote than B flat,” and so on, through the whole series of flats. The rule for de- ciphering the key is therefore apparent. It 1S :- - , ,- - - FIND THE FLATTEST NOTE, AND CALL IT - . . . FAH.” Let us apply this rule to the musical phrase just given. The eye glances -at all the flats, and sees that of the three (D flat, C flat, and G flat), the flattest is the C flat, (See order of flats given above.) Call this Fah, and the puzzle is solved. . . . .* In respect of transitional value, naturals are the same as flats, and must be The transitional value See the following example — of naturals. T. OTTO. FIND THE MOST NATURAL NOTE, AND CALL IT “FAH.” • * We now take the case of sharps, the rules, for which the reader will almost ; , , rev The transitional have guessed. The diagram hows value of sharps. F#, G#, G#, D3, A5, Ei, B: | On the same reasoning by which we established 480 THE UNIVEI?SA I, IVSTRUCTO E. the fact that the last flat is Fah, we have also established the fact that the last sharp is Te; and hence, in a passage which bristles with ſh l/ Proceeding by rule, the “sharpest note” in this passage is A sharp, which, if called Te, would give us key B. But look again. The A sharp is contradicted in the note next but one by A natural, an octave higher. It is KEY E. s s : m : s d! — ; d. t : mº : r" | r : dº Remember, then, the rule for deciphering sharps:— FIND THE SHARPEST NOTE, AND CALL IT “TE.” The passages we have chosen are simple in one respect—that they do not change key in themselves. The passage above, for example, might pass on into key B, or key A. But our rule holds as good for these changes. Every time a further sharp or flat is encountered, call it Te or Fah, as the case may be, and the passage will become clear. In order to apply the rule of “sharpest and flattest notes,” the singer must commit to —Cl |ZT m ba se l m ba se l In the above cases the music is in the key represented by the signature. But in the course of lengthened compositions we enter º 11 d till m, balse, 11 In the first case neither Ba nor Se requires any mark at all, and in the other cases only Se requires one. These are not impossible cases, but are such as may be met with in extended and difficuit music. It is important that the singer should be prepared for all these various appearances. In conclusion, let us repeat what we have already said, that the difficulties **.*.*.* here enumerated are in the staff of difficulties, - - - - notation itself, and are not proofs of the weakness of the movable Doh. What the movable Doh does is to clear up per- plexities, and give certainty to the singer. Those who have followed and learned these lessons will have no need of the help of the pianoforte or other instrument to guide them to each note, but will sing independently and surely, and it is to be hoped will prove in their own experience the value of the system on which they have been trained. : l l s 1 d tº 11 ml baſsel ll sharps, we must pick out the one which stands furthest to the right on the above list, and call it 78. Here is a passage in illustration :- FR. KüCKEN. ſº { =# Tº ITT Ée: º-Pºº-º-º- ################ therefore only an ornamental Fe, and we must look back for the “next sharpest” note, if the expression may be allowed. This is D sharp ; call it Te, and the whole passage sings naturally in key E :— : fe : s | f :- : t d' : – ; : | memory the Order of the flats and that of the sharps. It remains to say a few words on Ba and Se in the minor mode. There is no sign in the staff notation by which Ba can be distinguished from Fe. Both **** . notes are represented by raising Fah, a semi- tone. This is done by a sharp or a natural or double sharp, according to the key we are in. Se, also, requires a different sign according to the key. There are thus four ways in which Ba Se may be represented, according to the key we are in :— m ba se l m ba se l the minor modes of related or of distant keys, and this gives us other varieties of Ba and Se, three of which are appended :— d' t 1 m base 1 㺠#########| XVI. THE FLOWERS (continued). THE pistil is an organ of exquisite conforma- tion, usually complex, and almost always very beautiful in shape and colour. - a tº It occupies the very centre of The pistil. the floral system, terminating, as it were, the inmost axis of the peduncle; and when every- thing else pertaining to the flower has dropped a Way,+Stamens, petals, very often also even the calyx, successively withering and falling to the ground-the pistil remains. The reason is obvious. The lowermost portion is the fruit or seed-pod of the plant, in its rudimentary or POTA.W.Y. 481 * * * preliminary condition; and in due time, if all be favourable, where the pistil was we find the berry, the capsule, the legume, or whatever else it may be the nature of the plant to dis- play as its crowning achievement. Theoreti- cally, the pistil represents a simple leaf, such as that of an apple-tree, folded forwards upon its midrib, so that the margins come in contact. That this is the genuine “morphological" inter- pretation of the pistil, in its simplest state, is shown very plainly by the seed-pods of the common paeony, and on a smaller scale in those of the larkspur, the columbine, and the marsh-marigold. There are plenty of other examples of the same thing, some of them very striking because of their magnitude, but as the very splendid ones are the produce of tropical plants, chiefly trees, and there- • fore not procurable at will, it is pleasant to discover that our own English wild flowers tell the whole story. One of the first dictates of wisdom is, if we cannot always have that which we should like, to accustom ourselves energetically to like that which we have. It may be mentioned, however, that the seed-pods of a Brazilian tree called Firmiana, a member of the order Sterculiaceae, present the features we are speaking of on a scale of surprising measure. That the pistil is a modified leaf, or leaves, is foretold in what is already declared in regard to stamens by semi-double flowers (fig. 5); and with re- gard to the petals and the sepals, in what is declared by the series of changes shown in the common Helleborus foetidus. All the parts of a flower are, in a word, leaves that might have been, but that are not, being adapted to new purposes. Ima- gine this folded leaf to develope rudimentary seeds, or “ovules,” from its upper surface (now be- come the inner surface), or even no more than a single and solitary ovule, as happens in many of the Protea family, and the idea of the pistil, as to its first great factor, is complete. When converted to this new pur- pose, the leaf is called a “carpel,” or some- times a “carpellary leaf.” The best of all the names yet bestowed upon it is that of “ovary,” or “egg-container,” the resemblance of the rudimentary seeds to eggs being already expressed in calling them “ovules.” An ex- tremely beautiful example of an ovary and its contents is furnished by the elegant green- house climbers called TacSomia. The apex of this carpellary leaf partakes of the adaptation of the lamina to liew pur- pose. It is converted into the The style and inexpressibly delicate and lovely ** organ called the “stigma.” a part far more varied in all respects than WOL, I. FIG, 81. the anther of the stamen, and designed, as will appear presently, for purposes of the profoundest importance. When we remem- ber the beautiful attenuation of the points of many leaves, how they taper away, as in the sacred fig, Ficus religiosa, as if reluctant to stop, -it is easy to see that when such at- tenuation is indulged in by the “carpellary leaf,” the stigma must be carried far ahead, and a kind of intermediate pillar be produced. This is very generally the case. Examining a score of different flowers, taken at random, in the majority it will be found that the stigma is supported by a “style,” and very often lifted prominently into view. But there is no positive rule in the matter. The style presents every possible difference in regard to length, and very often it is “sessile,” appear- ing then as no more than a little protuberance upon the Summit of the ovary. In several great families, the carpellary leaf is always, or nearly always, Solitary. This is shown very plainly in the Leguminosae—the magnifi- cent order which includes the common pea and the common bean. Sometimes, as in the above-named columbine, lark- spur, and paeony, two or three carpellary leaves stand close together, but preserve absolute independence : there are ex- amples, indeed, of a considerable. number being thus associated, but still preserving their free- dom, as in buttercups. When the number dºes not exceed two, and they remain free, they are face to face. When there are three, they remind one of the charming little group, so often seen in marble, called “the Graces.” When there are four, as in common Rue, the ' arrangement is rectangular, When five, as in the Fraxinella, or many, as in the Star-anise, they present a beautiful stelli- form design. But in many other plants, the carpellary leaves, when brought into com- panionship so close, very naturally conjoin them- selves. Hence the extremely common occurrence of “compound” ovaries, --two, three, four, five or more becoming so consolidated that we seem to have but one. How prettily this is shown in the core, with its five compartments, of the apple and the pear ! How prettily, again, in a transverse or equatorial section of an orange These, it may be objected, are fruits, not ovaries.' That is quite true ; but the appear- ances in the ripened fruit would not be as we find them save for the condition in infancy, or when we had only blossom, and pistils requiring microscopical examination. In the fruits just mentiomed, owing to the succulenee, the constituent carpels never get sundered : • * • ) i. Simple and com- pound ovaries, 482 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, but in dry capsules, such as those of the lily and the sylvan hyacinth, Shakespeare's “azured harebell,” in maturity the union is dissolved, and then the composite character is no longer doubtful. It follows that just as many as are the carpels in a compound ovary, so many will be the stigmas. If sessile, the stigmas form a beautiful Ornament upon the summit, as in the poppy, where they constitute a many-Tayed star of purple velvet. If, on the other hand, they are supported upon styles, sometimes the styles keep aloof from one another, as in the pink, the carnation, the campion, the lychnis, and all other members of the charming order Caryo- phyllaceae—more usually they become con- fluent, and we seem to have only one style. This is the case in lilies, the fuchsia, the crocus, the daffodil. The number of confluent styles is then intimated by the number of the stigmas; or if the stigmas themselves coalesce, then by the number of the lobes. Look Once again to the queenly lily, or the tulip. Some very singular exceptions and paradoxes are met with, as in the order Plumbaginaceae ; but they do not overset the general principle. Excep- tions, like the miracles, simply indicate that in our conceptions of the “laws of nature " we have not lifted ourselves into a sufficiently high generalization, such as by-and-by, under the guidance and rule of God (who always keeps something in reserve wherewith to reward patient and reverent study of His glorious works), will cover both the ordinary occurrence and what to ourselves, pro tem., is the eartra- ordinary. Why in the sweet seaside “thrift,” Armeria maritima, there should be a solitary carpel, containing a Solitary ovule, Surmounted nevertheless by five independent styles, is a problem which in the twentieth century may perhaps be solved. Plenty of instances might be cited of the Stigma being no more than a needle-shape pro- º longation of the style. This occurs The stigma in the cyclamen, the ovary of which is five-celled. Successively, in different plants, it acquires more and more of a globular or “capitate "figure, as in the primrose; or if the styles be not confluent for more than four-fifths of their length, then we get beautiful rays. These usually recurve in the most graceful manner imaginable, as in campanulas, cactuses, and willow-herbs. The surface is often beset with minute projections; in any case the hue is very charming, and not uncommonly quite different from that of the adjacent parts. A delightful principle in the structure of plants, already mentioned, is that every organ and every member shall have its turn, in one plant or another, to become an object of special wonder, of extraordinary development, of re- latively supreme beauty. Everything, in other words, has its festival some time. YouTS may be in the spring, mine in the autumn, our friend’s in the summer or the winter, or the reverse all round. But it is sure to be granted one day or another ; and if by cultivating a magnetic spirit in Tegard to the benevolence of our Father in heaven the heart is kept well open to receive, then the time of the gift arrives sooner than we expect. For herein it is just the same as in reading a book that will nourish Our Souls. The author does his part ; we have our own part to do as well, and in the degree that we are faithful to personal duty in the matter, the book becomes intelligible. Does this golden rule apply when we are considering stigmas? We need only look at half a dozen of the delicious Iris family to perceive the truthfulness of it. So large and beautiful are the stigmas in the common yellow Iris or fleur-de-lis of the water-side—in every species, indeed, of this well-named genus, which more than emulates the rainbow in the pure and celestial hues of its flowers—that at the first glance they seem an inner corolla. Even in the crocus the stigmas are strikingly enlarged, and at the same time of a deep Orange-golden tint ; so that when picked out and dried, those of the Ch'ocus Sativus become “saffron.” The most extraordinary instance of an immensely developed stigma, or rather of a “stigmatic plate,” occurs in the singular American genus of Pitcher-plants called Sarracenia. Here the stigmatic plate spreads out like an open um- brella, and presents the appearance of a lid or cover to the subjacent parts. The great quasi- stigmas of the Iris are only stigmatic plates, the principal portion being ornamental, and the essential part no more than a fringe-like process underneath. Although, in perfect flowers, the Telative position of the stamens and pistil is invariable, there are considerable differences in the degree both of the free- * dom of the various parts, and of A“s. their “cohesion ” and “adhesion.” In a great multitude of families, including numbers of the most important, the petals are quite un- connected, or “free.” The stamens are also “free,” so as to allow, like the petals, of being removed one by one, without any cutting or tearing; and with the result that when the flower is overblown, they drop away, like the leaves of a deciduous tree in October. This is very plainly shown in the poppy and the common buttercup. Free stamens, or such as stand upon the summit of the flower-stalk (technically called the “receptacle"), must needs surround the base of the ovary. Hence they are said to be “hypogynous”—literally “beneath the ovary,” which part being repre- sentative, in the flower, of the female sex among animals, is in compound terms fittingly called, on the first principles of metaphor, gyne— literally “a woman.” XIV. THE ADJECTIVE (continued).-APPLICATION, EXERCISE XXIII. 1. The laundress has had my table-linen and my kitchen-linen, 2, The tailor has been at I'REAVCII GRAMMA.R. 4S3 the shop of (chez) the second-hand-clothes dealer. 3. Hadst thou had (plupf.) my hat and my top-coat 4. I had had (plaſpſ.) neither the hat nor the top-coat ; I had had (do.) the furrier's clothes. 5. The gloves had been bought (acheté, see p. 423) at (chez) the hatter's. 6. She will have had the sister's cuffs and collars. 7. We should have been at the hosier's. 8. My linen would have been bought at the shirt-maker's if the tailor had not been my brother-in-law. 9. That the mercer and the mercer's wife may have had some (see 6, p. 74) needles, pins, clasps, thimbles, and some tape and thread. 10. The linen-draper's wife and the tailor's wife would have been at the house of (chez) the milliner. 11. That thou nightest have had beautiful furs (see 2, p. 141). 12. The shoemaker's daughters have had no (see 6, p. 142) shoes, and the hatter'ssons have had no caps. 13. The socks and stockings” will have been sold (vendu—see footnote p. 423) by (par) the hosier. 14. The shoe trade has never been so low. 15. That I may have had top-boots (see 8, p. 74) for (pour) riding (monter ā. cheval), laced boots for shooting (la chasse), boots for walking (la promenade), shoes for running (la course), pumps for dancing (la danse), and slippers for resting (pour me re- poser). 16. The grandfather had had (plupf.) a smoking-cap, and the grandson will have a felt hat. 17. The thread gloves have been worn (porté, see p. 423) by the draper; the cotton gloves had been worn by the clothier ; the silk gloves will have been worn by the clothier ; the kid gloves would have been worn by the silk mercer. 18. That you may have Thad more (see 4, p. 141) jackets than vests. 19. That the hatter's trousers and other articles of dress might have been bought at the second- hand-clothes dealer's. 20. You would have had ready-made clothes, or clothes made to mea- ‘SUlre. EXERCISE XXIV. Apply the rules for the plural to the nords Q?ritten in italics. 1. Les prophétie, ainsi que les arc-en-Ciel, n’ont lieu que lorsque le soleil est peu èlevé sur Thorizon (B. de Saint-Pierre). 2. Quand ils ont leurs pot-de-vin, et que le poisson est dans la masse, Sauve qui peut (Regnard). 3. Oil Sont les chef-d'oeuvre qui ne doivent leurs beauté à des pensée céleste (Lamartine) 7 4. Il passe ses après-Souper en bonne compagnie (A). 5. A l'ouverture de chaque session, la chambre des député nomme un président et quatre vice- président, 6. Joseph et Benjamin étaient les bien-aimé et toute la joie de Jacob (Bossuet). 7. C'est Dieu qui frappe ces grand coup dont les contre-coup portent si loin (Bossuet). 8. Combien d’avant-cowrier annoncent sa ruine ! (Racine). 9. Autant que je puis deviner quelque chose aux coq-à-l’āne de ce manant, je suis ici chez des original (Th. Leclerq). 10. Nos téte-à-tête étaient moins des entretien qu'un babil intarissable (J. J. Rousseau). 11. Les journaliste font des coupe-gorge des bois et des grand chemin du Parnasse (J. B. Rousseau). 12. Il y a loin de ces parent sévère aux gate- * Repeat the article before each noun of a series when the first requires it. enfant d'aujourd’hui (Châteaubriand). 13. Il faut essuyer d'étrange chose lorsqu'on est réduit à passer parles main desfesse-mathieu (Molière). 14. Je raconte Sur le tºmoignage presque unanime des ou?-dire (Ch. Nodier). 15. Braver le public et les qu’en dira-t-on. 16. Camille Desmoulins await été l'un des premiers boute- en-train” de la Révolution (Sainte-Beuve). [1. Prophecies, like rainbows, only occur when the sun is low on the horizon. 2. When they have (pocketed), their bribes, and netted the fish, they scamper off. 3. Where (which) are the masterpieces which are not indebted for their beautiles to heavenly thoughts? 4. He spends his evenings in good com- pany. 5. At the opening of each session, the chamber of the deputies appoints a presideut and four Vice- presidents. 6. Joseph and Benjamin were Jacob’s beloved ones and whole joy. 7. It is God who strikes those mighty blows whose effects reach sofar. 8. How many forerunners announce his ruin! .9. As far as I can make out anything from the rambling talk of this rustic, I am here among eccentric characters. 10. Our interviews were less conversations than an inex- haustible chat. 11. Journalists make cut-throat places of the groves and highways of Parnassus. 12. There is a vast difference between those strict parents and present spoul-children (parents who spoil their children). 13. One has to put up with strange things, When one is reduced to have recourse to usurers. 14. Irelate upon the testimony of all but unanimous reports. 15 To brave the world and the world’s opinion. 16. Camille I)esmoulins had been one of the earlier ringleaders of the Revolution.] THEORY-(resumed). 1. FORMATION OF FEMININE IN ADJEC- TIVES (continued from page 363).-The follow- ing form their feminine quite irregularly : ammoniac, ammoniacal ammoniague caduc, decaying caduque franc, Frankish franque public, public publique ture, Turkish turque grec, Greek grecque blanc, white blamche franc, frank jranche sec, dry sèche £ong, long &ongue oblong, oblong oblongue bénim, benign bénigne malin, malignant maligne devin, diviner devönen'esse coi, quiet coite favori, favourite favorite frais, fresh fra?che tiers, third tierge 2. FORMATION OF THE FEMININE IN AD- JECTIVES ENDING IN eur.—These are often used as substantives. They form their feminine in various manners, but always in strict accord- ance with their Origin. (a) Those derived from the present participle of a verb by the change of ant into eur, make euse in the feminine. Masc. JFem. Pres. Pan't. marcheur, ovalker marcheuse marchant rêveur, dreamer rèveuse rêvant sauteur, jumper Sauteuse Sautant trompeur, deceiver trompeuse trompant Remark.-Three terms belonging to legal phraseo- logy, and five to poetical language, form their feminine differently : ballleur, lessor, the one who gives a lease, bailleresse; défendeur, defendant, défenderesse; demandeur, plaintiff, demanderesse; chasseur, hunter, chasseresse ; enchanteur, enchanter, enchanteresse; péchewr, sinner, pécheresse; vengeur, avenger, vengeresse. * Apply Fifth Rule, page 364, 484 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. (b) Those in teuz' (corresponding to the Latin class of forms in tor, fem. tria) not coming from a French present participle, make trice. They are easily detected, although one may have no knowledge of Latin. adulateur, adulator adulatrice conducteur, conductor conductrice admirateur, admirer admiratrice tentateur, temptey tentatrice (c) Those in eur, not derived from verbs, conveying an idea of comparison, follow the general rule : majeur, of age majeure minor, under age mineure meilleur, better meilleur inférieur, ºvorse inférieure (d) The following cannot be reduced to any Tule : ambassadeur, ambassador ambassadrice gouverneur, governor gouvernante serviteur, servant Servante empereur, emperor impératrice Remark.-The fem. of chanteur, singer, is chanteuse, for any woman singing, but cantatrice when one speaks of an eminent female vocalist: l’Alboni est whe cantatrice qui me se fait plus entendre, Mrme Alboni is a singer who is no more heard. (The use of the article before a proper noun, as in l’Alboni, la Grisi, etc., will be commented on in the Syntax.) (e) Words in eur, denoting men's profes- sions, are altered neither in form nor in gender (see 4 b, p. 3) when they are applied to females : docteur, doctor; professeur, professor; imprimewy, printer. Under this rule come amateur, fond of, or amateur; censeur, censurer; défenseur, defender; imposteur, impostor; pos- sesseur, possessor; saw veur, rescuer; successeur, Successor; traducteur, translator; although one cannot say that they are strictly male profes- Sions, Or, of some, that they are professions at all. Examples: L'impératrice d’Autriche est amateur de la chasse à cowrre, the empress of Austria is fond of hunting ; me de Necker est auteur d'un livre sur l'éducation, Mme de N. is authoress of a book on education; En lowant l’Allemagne, Mme de Staël se faisait le censeur de la France, while praising Germany, Mme. de S. was making herself the censurer of France; la reine d’Angleterre est le défenseur de la foi, the Queen of England is the defender of the faith ; Madame Dacier, #. {raducteur de l’Iliade, maquit & Saumur en 1651, et mow ruf à Paris en 1720, Mme. D., the famous trans- lator of the Iliad, was born at Saumur in 1651, and died in Paris in 1720; etc. 3. FORMATION OF THE PLURAL OF ADJEC- TIVES IN al.-These change al into awa, as brºtal, pl. m. brutawa: ; loyal, loyawa, royal, royalta. The fem. pl. is strictly regular : h?”(tales, loyales, royales. There is a certain number of adjectives in al which persist in taking 8 for the plural ; and there are others which, from their meaning, are not likely to appear in connection with a m. pl. noun, and for which no m. pl. is indicated in dictionaries. But in accordance with the law of permutation (ºf letters, which, in connection with forms in al, still operates in French, the number of apparent exceptions tends to diminish. The Académie gives no examples of the m. pl. with the following ; however, it does not deny its existence, and M. Littré endorses the form away for arbitral, and tral, benéficial, boréal. canonial, central, colossal, conjectural, crural, déciºnal, diamétral, doctoral, eaſpérimental, Jilial, immémorial, initial, jovial, lustral, "magistral, matinal, paradoacal, paroissial, patriarcal, patronal, pënal, préceptoral, pri- 'matial, sentimental, theſitral, zodiacal.—Bancal, fatal and final take s, and these have no m. pl. as yet : automnal, bºwmal, diagonal, frugal, glacial, médicinal, mental, monacal, natal, naval, pascal, virginal. In connection with Some words of the last list several good writers have attempted the plural form awa: ; but theirs having been individual efforts, the Académie, which registers generally accepted facts only, stands out. The following, about which some hesitation is expressed by a few grammarians, undoubtedly take awa; ; amical, banal, clérical, doctrinal, horizontal, musical, pastoral, patrimonial, Social, vocal. §§§: A N C IENT ; HISTORY...º. sº THE WARLIKE REIGN OF SARGON (continued). SARGON'S encrgy had by this time raised the Assyrian empire to a position which made other potentates anxious to secure his friend- ship. Egypt, powerful as it was, sent rich presents. It was, perhaps, less significant that Samsi, queen of Arabia, followed a similar course, for she, as we have seen, owed her throne to Assyrian favour. Most of Sargon's foes had been conquered, but there remained the most active and wily, if least personally warlike, of them all—Ursa of Ararat. In 714 B.C. Sargon vigorously attacked the princes who had allied themselves with Ursa, who made no move to help them—the king of Minni again submitted and gave tribute—and them marched against Ursa. A grea battle was fought, the king o Ararat once more escaped, thanks to the swiftness of his horse, but 260 important personages, described as belonging to “the royal tribe of Armenia,” were made prisoners. Then Sargon resolved to destroy by a decisive blow the power which had so long defied him. He advanced with rapid strides to Muzazir, the Sacred city of Ararat, where was the temple. rich in treasures, of Haldi, the supreme god of the nation, and his companion deity, Bagmasti. The situation of the city was in a mountainous district, and it occupied a rocky eminence, which might have offered almost unsurmount- able obstacles to ordinary warriors; but the indomitable legions of Sargon threaded the mountain passes, scaled the cliff, attacked and stormed the city. Urzana, styled the king of Muzazir (probably a prince tributary to Ursa). fled for safety, but he left his wife and children, behind. The city was plundered, and the temple robbed of its enormous wealth. The people, in the usual fashion, were carried away captive, to the number, it is said, of twenty thousand; but if so, the city must have been t f Defeat of King TS3, ANCIENT IIISTORY. of great extent and importance. It is probable, however, that the population of the adjacent district was included. The king's family, with enormous treasures in gold and silver, many thousands of oxen, sheep, and other animals, were carried away; the sacred images were added to the spoil, and the district was an- nexed. The crafty Ursa, defeated and dis- heartened, sought the refuge of the coward, and committed suicide. There were revolts in the eastern and then in the western provinces of the empire, but they were crushed with remorse- less vigour. Princes and people were carried into slavery, immense tributes were extorted, and Assyrian governors appointed to rule the districts in Assyrian fashion. 485 The statement in the second Book of Kings (xx. 12) is: “At that time Berodach-baladan, the son of Baladan, king of Babylon, sent letters and a present unto Hezekiah, for he had heard that Hezekiah had been sick. And Hezekiah hearkened unto them [the ambassa- dors], and showed them all the house of his precious things: . . . there was nothing in his house, nor in all his dominion, that Hezekiah showed them not.” For doing so, the prophet Isaiah warned him that his treasures and his people should be carried to Babylon. The proposal of an alliance between Babylon and Judah appears to have been without result; but Hezekiah joined a league at the head of which was Yavan, king of the Philistinian city The many wars in which Sargon had been engaged had left the Babylonian usurper, Merodach-Baladan, unmolested for ten years, He ruled, it would seem, wisely and well, for his dominions are described as enjoying pros- perity; but he could scarcely expect that he would remain unattacked now that Sargon had, by the subjugation of so many State of Babylon of his active foes, consolidated his power. About 712 B.C. he had formed an alliance with Hezekiah, twelfth king of Judah (the Hazagiyahu of the tablets),-and it is worth noting that in reference to this event the Assyrian dates and those of the generally received Scriptural chronology exactly coincide. of Ashdod, nearly midway between Gaza and Joppa. The confederacy included the rulers of Moab and Edom, and the object appears to have been to throw off the yoke which Assyria had imposed on them. The Pharaoh, or king of Egypt of the time, had encouraged them with prospects of assistance, but failed to keep his promise ; and the rebellion was subdued by Sargon, Yavan taking refuge in Meroe, one of the minor Egyptian states, the king of which, desiring probably to gain the favour of Assyria, sent him, a heavily chained pri- soner, to Sargon. The taking of º Ashdod is mentioned by Isaiah Od. (xx. 1): “In the year that Tartan [an Assyrian 486 THE UAVI PERSAI, WWSTRUCTOR. title for the commander of an army] came unto Ashdod (when Sargon, the king of Assyria, Sent him), and ought against Ashdod and took it.” Sargon was now free to undertake the ex- pedition against Babylon which he had so long deferred. Merodach-baladan had obtained an ally in the king of Elam, successor to him who had formerly aided the Babylonian king. Advancing along the eastern bank of the Tigris, Sargon captured important cities, among them. Dur-athara, a strongly fortified position on the river Surappi (from which 18,500 captives were taken), and speedily crushed the feeble opposition of the Elamite king. He crossed to the western side of the Euphrates and marched to Babylon, ravaging the country on his way. Merodach-baladan fled, and the great city was triumphantly entered by the conqueror, who proclaimed himself king, with many sacred rites and ceremonies. A few months elapsed, and then Sargon advanced to Bit-yaken, a strong castle on the bank of the Euphrates, where Merodach had taken refuge. A broad and deep moat had been constructed, which formed mo ordinary defence ; but the Assyrian troops contrived to cross, and the town was taken, with all its treasures, the slaughter being great. Merodach and all his family were captured, and once more Babylonia by the fortune of war became a province of Assyria. Sargon was now the most powerful monarch in the world. The king of Muski had been compelled to submit, having suffered a severe defeat from the Assyrian general left in com- mand by Sargon. Embassies from various adjoining petty states proffered submission ; and the priesthood of Babylon, influenced by the liberality of the king and his encourage- ment of rites and ceremonies, were among his most devoted supporters. It is gene- rally supposed that one of the embassies which brought tribute to Sargon came from the kings of Cyprus; and it is certain that, about the time we are now treating of, Sargon was recognized by the seven kings of that island as their supreme head. The £mbassy from Mediterranean island was them *P* the westerniimit of the dominion of the great Assyrian king. In the Royal Museum at Berlin is a bas-relief, with a long inscription in cuneiform characters, discovered about thirty years ago, near the site of the old town of Citium. The stone bears an effigy of Sargon, and the inscription records that the Cypriotes had heard of the mighty deeds achieved by the Assyrians in Chaldea and Syria, and that their hearts had failed them, and fear had taken hold of them. The sculptured tablet was sent to Cyprus by Sargon himself. Sargon, like other powerful monarchs of Assyria, did not devote all his time and energies to foreign or intestine wars. He was a great builder, and to him is due the erection of the palace at Khorsabad (named in the monu- ments Dur-Sargina), which has yielded so much of historical value to the modern explorer. He rebuilt the temples of Nebo and Merodach at Nineveh. In these great works the cedar wood of Lebanon was largely used, and pro- bably the huge logs were dragged by bands of captives from the Syrian mountains to the banks of the Tigris. The last years of his reign were marked by various revolts of comparatively slight impor- tance on the Elamite frontier. Some were sub- dued; but the hand and heart of the king were failing, and petty successes were gained. The empire, however, º of was but little impaired; and when argon, Sargon died, in 705 B.C., he left to his younger son and successor, Sennacherib, a vast and powerful empire. Of Sennacherib, the best known, to readers of the Bible history, of all the Assyrian kings, we shall bave a striking history to relate in another chapter; for side by side with some of the leading events run the patriotic denunciations of the inspired Isaiah, and the prophecies of evil to the great Assyrian power. § º &R a º. . . . ."º *** * * * **. ºr K. w ºw º tº Fº >iº - 5. * > . ź - º, 3 Sº Fº - FS: - - º º & º - º G {º Sºº-jºº º Sº Yºzº º B - sº - $2.3% º *...* - ſº º xxº~ : Qº 2. * * * * * & º º 2xº~$º * .. w ºswº º - Sºrº Rºlº - º HE FRIENDLY C º . º f gº gºes Nº ºr " tº tº ºf A Sr* ZºSºº-ºº: ; º º º Rººs.< ºr º º §§ºf $9 šºſsº S. § º sº tºº º º * * af ºf } C º asº, sº, “s sººººº Pºrº ** BY THOMAS DUNMAN ONE of the most important features of the well-formed character is the faculty of observ- ing carefully and correctly the men and things with which one is brought in contact, and much of the ignorance and prejudice which unfortunately exist arises from the neglect or improper use of this mental attribute. It is undoubtedly a great misfortune that most of the studies in which we are during our school- life engaged, leave almost entirely out of con- sideration this important faculty, and appeal Only to the faith of the student, who is taught implicitly to accept all statements and rules upon authority from which there is, and can be, no appeal. The facts of history or the rules of grammar rest entirely upon authority, and cannot be demonstrated to the pupil, who is, therefore, compelled to accept them upon trust. If we except mathematics, this is equally true of every other subject usually included in the school or college curriculum : the value of natural science as an educational instrument having been, until recently, alto- gether ignored, and being, even now, imperfectly recognised. The tendency of a system of education which leaves out of sight the cultivation of the faculty of observation is undoubtedly to cramp the intellect and narrow its mental and morai calibre, producing a slothful habit of mind and an inclination to accept without inquiry any theory or statement of facts which may be offered. The self-educated student frequently escapes, in this respect, a danger which besets those whose education has been entrusted to others, as the choice of subjects for study naturally THE FRIENDLY CO UNSELL OR. 487 depends upon himself, and his tastes and inclinations lead him to a wiser choice than is frequently made by the professional educator. It is with the view of guiding aright the large and deserving band of self-educating students to which this work Specially appeals that this paper has been written. It must be carefully borne in mind, that all education has a twofold object—primary and Secondary. The primary object is the acquire- ment, on the part of the student, of a knowledge of certain rules, facts, or phenomena ; the Secondary object is the training of the intellect So as to enable the possessor properly to discharge the duties of life, and to be of some use to his fellow-creatures. To take an example: the study of any language, ancient OT modern, is of value, not only because the acquirement of that language opens out to the student a vast field of intellectual treasures which would otherwise remain unknown to him, but also because the study of a language tends to train the intellect in methodical habits, logical reasoning, and accurate modes of expressing thought. Time spent in the endeavour to acquire a language is, therefore, never entirely wasted, even though lack of perseverance or the force of circumstances may interfere to prevent complete success. The department of learning which tends most to the development of the art of correct observation is, undoubtedly, that of natural science, providing that the study be taken up in a true scientific spirit. If this be done, the value to the mental faculties of the study of even a single subject of natural science is simply incalculable. To the science-student, Faith is the unpardonable sin, and his real progress depends upon the accuracy with which he tests the facts which are brought under his notice by his teacher or his text-book, and unless he strive hard to know everything of his omn. knomyledge, his success in the acquirement of information will be but small. It is evident, then, that in order to obtain accurate know- ledge in natural science, the faculty of obser- vation must be largely employed, and the art of observing thoroughly developed; hence the great value of this branch of knowledge as an educational instrument. To our readers we would therefore say, “Let natural science Occupy a prominent place in any scheme of self-education which you may draw up.” We would, however, not forget that many of our readers may have but scant leisure to devote to the improvement of their minds, and circumstances may enforce upon them the necessity, or at least the importance, of acquiring knowledge which may be useful as a means of adding to their “bread-winning ” capabilities, and the pursuit of this object will often preclude the possibility of any systematic study of science. But even under these cir- cumstances some leisure moments will be found in which recreation or amusement will be sought. Of such of our readers as may be thus circumstanced we would ask “Why should not your amusements be such as would at once train and thoroughly recreate the mental powers?” Nearly every one has some hobby which occupies his leisure moments, and why should we not adopt as our hobby some pursuit which would yield us health and strength of body and mind? Amongst other peculiarities man is undoubtedly a “collecting” animal. Sometimes it is coins, sometimes postage-stamps, sometimes Seals, and sometimes old chima; whatever be the objects, there seems to be peculiar gratification in the accumulation of a collection of some sort. However insigni- ficant or unimportant the objects collected, the pursuit is in itself of value, inasmuch as it affords considerable training in the art of ob- Serving, and the comparing of specimens with each other their classification and arrange- ment necessitating, on the part of the collector, careful observation of details and methodical examination of peculiarities. But if the objects collected be obtained from Nature's storehouse, the benefit to the collector is vastly greater, for not only is the pursuit of objects in itself healthful and invigorating, but it leads to the accumulation of vast stores of information of a highly useful and interesting character. We would therefore earnestly advise our readers to become true students of Nature, by making a collection, or collections, of natural objects—a pursuit which need take but little from their leisure hours, and which will add Zest and enjoyment to their daily rambles or longer annual vacations. Nor is any very special knowledge required at the outset—all that is necessary being a conscientious and painstaking exercise of the faculty of observa- tion. If the objects collected be ferns, every peculiarity of leaf, stem and fruit should be noted, every feature of the places most produc- tive of certain varieties accurately remembered, and every specimen carefully labelled and preserved. If the collector is an entomologist, every detail of size, colour, and general structure should be noted, and specimens from different localities compared. If the aim of the student be somewhat higher, and minerals or fossils be the objects of study, the utmost care should be taken to mote the source from which every specimen is obtained, the nature of the rock in which found, the details of the size, shape, or structure of each object Secured. Similar methods must in every case be adopted, whatever be the nature of the collection, the value of which will very largely depend upon the correctness of the observa- tions made. Anything like slipshod work in collecting and arranging specimens of any kind is worse than useless, and is more likely to injure than to benefit. From methodical work, however simple, much good willinevitably result to the humblest collector. By it perfection in the art of observing may be attained, and much pleasure to the individual will result ; he will be brought face to face with Nature, and be made to feel her refining and elevating influence ; the material world will have new meanings and will unfold treasures of ever- increasing beauty; while the student will in literal, sober truth find “Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in Stones, and good in everything.” THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. Compounds of Carbon and Hydrogen. CONTRARY to the custom we have followed in every other case, of giving precedence to the oxygen compounds of each substance, we prefer in the case of carbon to speak first of its com- pounds with hydrogen, as being more immedi- ately connected with the subject of coal and the gases generated in the mines. These compounds are exceedingly numerous, existing under the condition of the gas, the liquid, and the solid. All belong rather to the class of organic than inorganic compounds. At present we shall only Speak of those which claim our attention in connection with this portion of our subject. Light carburetted hydrogen, or hydrogen carbide, consists of one atom of carbon in chemical combination with four atoms of hydrogen : its symbol is therefore CH1. This is the explosive fire-damp of our coal mines. It is a colourless, tasteless, and invisible gas, which escapes, Often With a hissing sound, from the seams of coal. Being generated wherever the decom- position of vegetal matter is going on, it is found issuing from stagnant pools and marshes, and is therefore also known as marsh gas. It is likewise evolved in many volcanic districts, and is one of the constituents of the coal gas we burn. It cannot be obtained by the direct union of its elements—a fact which might be inferred from the explosive nature of this gas showing that its constituents, not being bound together by any strong affinity, readily palt company with one another. This gas is formed when red-hot copper is brought into contact with carbon disulphide and hydrogen sulphide gas: the copper, uniting with the sulphur, leaves the hydrogen and carbon to unite in Its preparation the form of light carburetted hy. drogen. Marsh gas burns in small quantitles with a pale blue flame and the formation of carbon dioxide and water. If mixed in large quantities with ten or eleven times its own volume of atmospheric air, or twice its volume of oxygen, it explodes with great violence. Heavy carburetted hydrogen, or olefiant gas, is another of the constituents of coal gas. It contains twice as much carbon as malsh gas, and its' ormula is therefore C, H,-a hypotheti- cal constitution which is to be preferred to CH, for reasons to be explained hereafter. This gas may be obtained in a pure state by heating alcohol (spirits of wine) with sulphuric acid. The formula of alcohol is C3H5O. Sul- phuric acid having a very strong affinity for water, unites with its elements in the alcohol, taking from it H,0 and leaving C, H, to escape in the form of a gas. This gas, although in- visible, possesses a sweet taste; under high pressure it has been condensed to a colourless Fire-damp, Marsh gas, Heavy oarbu- retted hydrogen, liquid. The whole of the carbon contained in this gas, equal to double the quantity of that which exists in light carburetted * hydrogen, is not consumed or its combustion. converted into carbon dioxide by the combus- tion of this gas in the air—the unconsumed portion being given off in the form of a black Smoke. When mixed with three times its own volume of oxygen this gas also explodes with violence. It has been termed olefiant from the fact of its uniting chemically with its own volume of chlorine to form a liquid which has an oily appearance. Coal Gas. This very important gas, now used for the purposes of illumination throughout the whole of the civilized portion of the globe, is obtained by heating coal in closed air-tight chambers, so as to decompose the coal, the volatile pro- ducts given off in the process being afterwards collected Gas may be obtained from any hydro-carbon compound, and we have already pointed out that that which actually burns in the flame of a candle or lamp is in reality a gas. Coal is however the substance from which an inflammable gas can be most economically pre- pared. No one who has ever observed the com- bustion of coal in an Ordinary grate can have failed to notice that jets of gas are continually breaking from Gas from burn- the lumps of coal as they become * * heated, which catch fire from time to time and flame brightly for a few seconds. Here we have an example of the generation of a gas by the gradual decomposition of the coal. The volatile products given off in the process of manufacturing coal gas—the destructive dis- tillation of coal, as it is termed—are very various in their character: they consist of tar, ammonia, water, light carburetted hydrogen, heavy carburetted hy- drogen, sulphuretted hydrogen, etc. The gas, therefore, as it first issues from the retort, is very far from being fit for the purposes of illumination, and has to undergo an elaborate process of purification. A portion of it is condensed in the form of a black, viscous fluid known as coal tar; the other impurities are removed Compºunds by subsequent processes which : vary in their character, until the * gas, which at length finds its way into the re- ceiver, consists of several compounds of hy- drogen and carbon, light and heavy carburetted hydrogen being always among the number, together with free hydrogen and carbon mon- oxide. Coal gas is seldom absolutely pure; and that, in spite of every attempt to get rid of it, it still contains traces of sulphur, is evi- denced by the fact that silver becomes black or discoloured Fº of sul- when exposed to its influence. **** That which remains behind in the retort, after the completion of the process of distillation, is the well-known substance coke, an impure form of carbon. The different compounds whose presence in coal gas would impair its illuminating power or otherwise render it unfit Flame incan- descent gas, Preparation of coal gas, | EWG LISII for combustion, and which it is necessary to get rid of in the process of manufacture, were at one time regarded as so much waste material. No form of matter is however in reality useless; there is therefore no such thing as waste or refuse substance, or it ought only to be so regarded because we have not as yet found any use to which it can be put. Ammonia and its various salts are, in the present day, derived almost entirely from the distillation of coal. The black, nauseous-smel- ling coal, tar, in addition to its employment for a variety of purposes for which vegetal or Stockholm tar was formerly used—to which, however, it is very inferior—is made to yield naphtha and various hydro-carbon oils; and, What must appear to a reader unacquainted with chemistry utterly incomprehensible, a number of essences or volatile oils having a most agreeable odour and flavour. The greatest triumph of all is, perhaps, the preparation of the beautiful series of the aniline ****, dyes from coaſtar. How many GRAMMAR. 489 —e pounds. Coal gas is never free from sulphur in the form of sulphuretted hydrogen and carbon disulphide gas. Silver is blackened by coal gas owing to the formation of a sul- phide on its surface, and flowers soon fade in a room lighted by gas. Its flame again is hotter and more trying to the eye than that of an crlinary lamp or candle. Of course we are well aware that in the present day most households would esteem it a serious incon- venience to be deprived of coal gas, but we think its use should be dispensed with in sleeping apartments. Of late years it must be admitted that many important improvements have been introduced in connection with gas burners, etc. The electric light is already usurping its lace in out-door illumination, as well as in that of theatres, railway stations, * - e. and other public buildings. Its Plectric light. superior brilliancy and freedom from the defects of gas seem alieady to point to the conclu- sion that, when the advance of Scientific dis- ladies are aware covery shall that the delicate have enabled it mauve and the to compete with brilliant ma- its folner rival genta are the In the prime product of the #Till'ſ ſºft = cost of its pro- black foul-smel- | ſº i | iſſiºn sº. duction, it is lung substance º # # | || º |=Zº destined, if not from which they lºſſ |Tººliº to become the naturally turn Lºr- º |||| º §§ t; light of the a side with § | i; i | i º- § future, at least disgust 7 #1 # º | | | º to superse de §|||||||| | § § | º: | | | | [|| The artificial product, coal R º § º º Y. § | § | º º gas, is likewise, §sº 1% § § as is w el 1 \s º §§ known, highly *śs. §§ explosive. In § º the case of an sº escape of gas, -sº ºi great C 3, T6 should be taken not to enter, with a naked light, an apartment into the atmosphere of which any considerable quantity of this ex- plosive compound may have leaked. For- tunately it generally gives token and timely warning of its presence by its strong characteristic odour. Doors and windows should at once be opened and the room thoroughly ventilated—the escape of gas being meanwhile cut off or arrested, before the introduction of a light. The use of a lighted candle to discover the source of leakage, even in small quantities, may be attended with disastrous results. Numerous as are the advantages attending the employment of coal 'gas as a medium of illumination, it is nevertheless subject to many incon- veniences. Not to speak of the danger in separable from its use, it gives forth great heat and rapidly deteriorates the quality of the air in which it burns. In addition to carbon dioxide, inseparable from all ordinary com- bustion, it gives forth other deleterious com- ---- Explosive na- ture of coal gas, Disadvantages attending its use |; a-rº | | :3ſ. | | | TEIE MANUFACTURE OF CO AL GAS. i. the use of gas to a consider- able extent. A Inew ela of illu- mlnation would be generally welcomed, and electricity may before long be firmly estab- lished as master Of the field. |||ſº §§§ º ; | .. t º: | | i | S | ºl | > - º šš Fº: Nº jºš. E §Sºś g ºr ººlºº É º ORTHOGRAPHY (continued). Varieties of consonants. Natural laws Formation of consonants; five kinds. Other kinds . liquids. Subulants. The aspin ate. Tome of the consonant flat and sharp. Style chock and continuous. Table of consonant-sounds. Letters excluded. 122, Flats and sharps in pairs: their combination, 123. Palatals. § 112. Consonants. – Consonantal sounds, of which we reckon twenty-five, give rise to the second great division of the alphabet. A Consonant (Lat. con sono, sound together) usu- ally requires the aid of a vowel to bring out its 112 113. 11 #. 115. ] 16 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. S 490 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. full sound, which can only be produced imper- fectly alone, and in but some cases continuously. Thus b, p, d, k, come out with only their par- tial force on the attempt to sound them alone, and it is impossible to continue the effort ; f, V, S, can be produced continuously ; while every one knows the difficulty, especially to a native of the southern half of England, in keeping up the sound of the r. How many a child is taught a lesson in rolling its 7's over the word “bread,” earning its breakfast with trouble, or is plagued by an elder brother with the old alliterative trial, “Around the rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran'ſ Here, too, are the inconsistencies of the alphabet apparent ; Hume, writing “ of our abusing sum con- Sonantes,” confesses “I am cum to a knot that I have noe wedg to cleave ; ther sould be for everie sound that can occur one symbol, and of everie symbol but one onlie sound. This reason and nature craveth.” But we find c with two sounds, a flat and a sharp, as in candle, cull, claim, crawl, cod, and cell, city, Cymbeline; g flat and sharp, as in gay, gray, glad, stag, and age, ginger; j represents the same sound as the sharp g, s the same as the sharp c. S has the two sounds found in scrubs, the first called sharp, the second flat. But even in this chaos there are some guides : the soft and hard or flat and sharp sounds depend upon certain other sounds, which thus modify their quality. The s which, following b or g in tabs, stags, is flat like a z, becomes sibilant and sharp on simply changing the consonant which precedes it (preserving the root of the vocal syllable), as taps, stacks. The c and g are soft before e, i, y, hard before a, r, l, o, u, as in the examples just given. § 113. These instances show that there is a natural reason or law by which one sound affects another as it comes from the organs of speech. It shows too what a wonderful pa- tience, acuteness, and power of analysis of Sound must have been exercised by those who first invented the symbols of speech ; and small marvel it is that there should be some diver- sities or some changes which we do not now understand. We are led thus to two facts : 1, that certain vowel and consonant sounds (or letters) have an affinity for one another; 2, that certain consonants stand in a special relation to one another. Let us examine the latter more closely. § 114. Formation.—We must remember that, differing from the vowel, “the consonant is formed by the action of the movable organs, the lips, the tongue and the throat, the breath which renders the formation of sound possible being modified either through the lips, on the teeth, or in the tkroat.” From their formation we thus get lip-sounds, tooth-Sounds, and throat-sounds, which are represented by the labial, dental, and guttural letters: labial—p, as in lip, b, as in bib; dental—t, as in tot, d, as in date ; guttural—k, as in Snake, g, as in nag. The palate, teeth, and tongue coming into play together, produce the compound sounds represented by j and ch, sometimes called palatals. There are also the nasals m, n, ng. and the liquids l, r, formed by the action of the nose and the tongue ; while the nasals also share in the first three characters. For ex- ample, in the words gum, man, the nasal m is formed by the nose and the lips, it is a labiate- 7tasal ; in man, nag, the tip of the tongue comes into contact with the upper teeth to help to form the n, it is a dental-nasal ; in sing, finger, the throat helps the nose in the shaping of the peculiar sound represented by ng, it is a guttural nasal. - § 115. The linguals (Lat. lingua, a tongue), or liquid l and T-sometimes also called trilled spirants, because the breath is not entirely stayed, but continues to issue while the tongue trills—are both formed by the action of the tongue against the palate. The r is produced by the tip of the tongue vibrating against the fore-part of the palate, and requires consider- ably more effort than the 1, in making which the tongue touches the palate a little behind its tip, allowing the air to stream out smoothly On both sides, which can more easily be con- tinued for a length of time. This is the reason why a child in learning the use of its tongue will sooner say bleakfast than breakfast, tee than tree, “my th!oat is bad; ” it also explains how it is that a Japanese, to whom the l is unknown, cannot say lice, lead, glow, etc., but makes them rice, read, grow, and so on. Several instances of these interchanged liquids are found in the Chinese pidgin-English : see before, § 77. Sometimes a foreigner, in attempting to sound the English lightly trilled r, gives utter- ance to a guttural 7", from the action of the back of the tongue and the back part of the palate and throat ; this is often the case with Germans. § 116. We have also the four sibilants (Lat. sibilare, to hiss), or hissing Sounds, s, z, sh, zh, in which the breath is modified by the tongue and teeth. Examples of these are in song, those, (pron. thoze), zany, Sure (pron. Shure), shoe, osier (pron. Ozhier). § 117. The breath coming with an effort from the upper part of the throat before any of the vowels produces the aspirate h, as in hall, hem, hit, hold, hug (Lat. ad, to, spirare, to breathe—i.e., to breathe on to). Every one knows the difficulty which many experience in the right use of their h’s, though it may be remarked that the rigour of this, as of other rules in language, somewhat depends on custom. § 118. Tone.—Consonants can also be classi- fied according to (1) the amount of effort, or (2) the kind of effort, used in producing them. (1) Letters lightly or sharply pronounced are termed sharp, while others of the same formation firmly uttered and with greater effort, are called flat (some prefer the terms hard and soft to sharp and flat, others use surd and sonant, others again have voiced and voiceless); thus we have the sharp and flat labials, as in cap and cab; sharp and flat dentals, as in tour, dome ; sharp and flat gutturals, as in haſ.e., haſ ; sharp and flat sibilants, as in mouse, prize. To which might be added, as partly answering to the same principle, the sharp and flat liquids, as in blow, brow. This may be conveniently called the tone of the consonant. § 119. (2) Style.—If the breath in coming EAVG LISH GRAMMA R. 491 from the mouth is entirely stopped to form the letter, it is said to be a stopped, a mute, a check, or an ea plosive consonant : such are g, k, d, t, b, p ; if it is only partially stopped, so that a portion continues to create sound,-modified by the special organ,—it is said to be a spirant (Lat. spirare, to breathe), an unstopped or a con- tinuous consonant : these are f, v, th as in bath, th as in bathe, s, z, sh, zh, h, l, r. The student Should try each of these, aloud, first in its combination in a word, and then as a detached sound; he will so more fully comprehend the characters of the two classes of sounds intended to be described by these various terms. The following table may help to render clear the three essential groups of facts concerning con- Sonants :— classed according to their Formation, Tone, and § 120. Twenty-five Consonant Sounds, Style — FORMATION. TONE. STYLE. ILLUSTRATIONS, Flat Sharp Check | Continuous W. (Soft, º (Spirant,” voice voice- stoppe Or llll- Flat, Sharp. or less, or of ºx.” stopped) rp Surd). sonant). plosive) 1. Aspirate * ... * h as me tº smm smººse - well * * *- hill, horse. ſ $year, yellow 2. Guttural {}. R º-º-º: * gap, gag, grape ... kill, cat, crow. 3. Palatal ... j ch tº-> *- * Jam, gem, age ... :* chess. e ‘º ºn ( zh. sh sm-ºs º- 3.211F6, OS101 ... . . shall, sure. 4. Sibilant... {: S smsº º ; rise ... sauce, us, rice. d t; *E* sºmeºs id, drawl’d... tint. 5. Dental ... #6) th asma º breathe, this §º. thing. b p *se ºs cab, bib, blue plume, pip. 6. Labial V. f smºs º-º vain, ever fine, full. • Laolal ... W hw — will, wan quite, what (northern, pron. hwat) * tº º r smºs -" red, roar, brow ... fry, proud. 7. Lingual or liquid { — — glance, lie, blind cling, slow, please. 8. Nasal (labio-nasal, Iºl man, am, hump ... ... humbug. flºº, and gut- n ng Kinver, stung, hunger | minx, skunk, Song. § 121. Three consonantal letters of our actual alphabet are not included in this table, because they stand for sounds which are already here. C is not wanted, because we have it in k and s (see the illustrations to those letters); q can be represented by k, and x by ks orgs (for example, eacercise, easertion). It must be remembered that the above is a table of consonant sounds, not of letters merely. The two tables of vocal and consonant sounds taken together show that the English alphabet falls far short of theoretical and logical perfection (see before, §§ 103, 104). - § 122. From the above table it appears that nearly every organ can utter the same kind of sound in two Tones, flat and sharp ; and thus we get our consonants in pairs of corresponding letters. The only exceptions appear to be h and y. The liquids and the nasals follow the same law, although we have no distinguishing symbols to show it ; the sound of 1 in glance differs from that in cling, as the letters g and c differ in tone ; the sounds of n in stung and skunk, and of m in members, hump, differ according to the consonants g, k, b, p, with which they are combined (in these cases folloning the nasals). These letters follow the all but universal rule that sharp letters must be combined with sharp, and flat mith flat letters—i.e., a flat Sound can- not be pronounced immediately after a sharp One. A few words will show this : for the * Carefully distinguish between aspirate and spirant. There is but one aspirate letter, h, which, as the Word expresses, breathes on to its accompanying letter. The spirant letters are those in which the breath must continue to issue, to create sound, in opposition to those which are created by stopping the breath... “Continu- ous” is a more descriptive term than “spirant.” plural of wrap we must say wraps, the sharp sibilant following the sharp labial; we could not, if we wished, place the flat labial b before the sharp sibilant s, it would immediately become z, wrabz. Try the dentals : cad must be followed by the flat sibilant, cads (= cadz), but make it the sharp t, cat, and the flat s no longer combines, but the sharp s, cats, is neces- sary. Again, “ rap at the door,” but “I was rapt on the knuckles: ” here it is customary to spell it “he rapped me,” etc., but the Sound we utter in each case is the same—the sharp. dental t follows the sharp labial, and we cannot pronounce the flat dental d after it (we may remark that the different spelling in this and similar cases has probably been retained in order to distinguish the different parts of the verb). “My hopes are dasht,” “he fished all day ”: here the same may be said of the sharp sibilant sh in each word, followed by the sharp dental alike in real utterance. In “he hugged his chains,” we pronounce “huggd,” —the flat dental follows the flat guttural. This law of the combination of sharps with sharps and flats with flats has had great influence upon certain English inflexioms: those of the plural of nouns, the possessive case of nouns, the third person singular of verbs, the past tense and the past participle of verbs. These will be pointed out further on. The principle is the same in all languages, as the organs of speech are the same, but each has its varying modifications ; letthe student fairly master the prominent facts of his own English symbols and sounds, and he will be in a position to understand much about those in other tongues. § 123. The palatals j, ch, are the only letters that are placed as sharing in both the charac- '492 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. ters, check and continuous; this is because they are in reality compound Sounds : j is dzh, ch is tsh—e.g. jail= dzhail, gem=dzhem, chair = tshair, larch = lartsh; and the first in each of these (d and t), is, as we find on reference to the third column, a check, the second (zh and sh) a continuous or spirant. ORNAMENTAL WRITING (continued). ANOTHER worthy who figures early on the roll of cele- brated pen- men is John Davies, who is supposed to have been tutor to that pr 0 m is ing young prince, of whom the nation expected so much, and whose death it so deeply mourned, Henry, Son of James I *— “The lively 3-vecº, portraiture * * of the old W el S h m a n prefixed to his “W r it in g School-ma S- ter,” shows us a capable face and expansive brow, such as we may Sup- pose charac- terised him who was, as A n th O n y Wood tells us, first poet and then writing- master “in Fleet Street.” Davies is mentioned by Fuller in his “Worthies,” and satirically by Heath in his poem, “The House of Correction,” published in 1619. Lingering for a few minutes amongst these representatives of a profession now extinct, we may allude to Richard Gething, who pub- lished his “Chirographia " in 1645, and his “Calligraphotechnia '' in 1652, the latter dedi- cated to “his good master, Sir Francis Bacon, Knight (sic),” although the great author of the “Novum Organom " had then been dead twenty-six years. These were the earliest English books on penmanship with copper- plate examples. A still more noteworthy author was George Shelley, born about 1666, anent whom Massey makes the singular remark:—“Born, I suppose, of obscure parents, because he was brought up in Christ's Hospital; and this was his low e—-- ~ FIG. 23.−ANGULAR HAND. //~~ceaeceived, yº. */4, 2/*~20%-ºw aw &v or /ćew /* ~2% zozzo avocatºr, “º orcy & wozº acº ~&vated. o, wºrey area, renº"; FIG. 24.—ENTERING CLERK. beginning under the humble blue coat.” The same author makes a similar remark respecting another writing-master, Charles Snell, also educated on the same Gººd * ( ( ~ OORS foundation, that he reflected on writing, honour on the blue coat.” Many .*. eminent men in our own century have done this, but with regard to the “obscure " . parentage, we fancy mous avoms change tout ſ cela. Many curious indications both of the actual importance and lucrative nature of the writing- master's profession, and the high esteem in which it was held, crop up in contemporary literature. Thus Edward Cocker, who lived in the middle of the Seventeenth century, and was, like Cassio, “a great arithmetician" (whence the phrase “according to Cocker’), had the examples in his work, “The Pen's Perfection,” engraved on plates Of silver, esteem- ing copper not sufficiently precious to bear such a burden. This is indeed only one of the numerous testimonies to the status of the Writing-master. We learn, too, that when John Seddon, author of “that delight- ful flowery garden,” the “ Pen man's P a r a dise ’’ (1695), died, his skill and memory were embalmed by “Mr. John the following punning and appreciative epitaph — “Princes by birth, and politics, bear ..º. But here lies one of more command than they ; Por they by steady councils rule a land, But this is he cou’d men, birds, beasts, command, Even by the gentlest motion of his hand. Then, penmen, weep, your mighty loss deplore, Since the great Seddon can command no more.” The play upon the word “command ” in its relation to the command of hand requisite for the formation of fanciful imitations of living forms is obvious. The profitable nature of the business is shown by the career of Major, or Colonel, John Ayres, whose military titles, by the way, were probably bestowed on the American principle. This “light in the hemisphere of British penmen,” as he is fondly styled, was a poor country lad, who made his way to the great metro- polis, and became in due time footman to Sir William Ashhurst. In this capacity the young countryman did two excellent things : PENMANSI/IP. 493 he educated himself, and he saved money. Some may say he did another .. †, thing not less commendable,for he '. fell in love with a buxom house- maid, in the same service, who had amassed the pretty little dowry of two hundred pounds (those were the days of “vails,” good reader, when visitors to a gentle- man's house were expected to give to the servants douceurs almost equivalent to the amount their own entertainment might have besides being “very knowing ” in arithmetic ; or of that eighteenth-century heroine of the goosequill hight. Mary Taylor (née Johns), who, “without masters,” taught herself draw- ing and writing, “insomuch that she could write the Lord's Prayer in the compass of a silver penny,” and whose husband was a “carpenter, and lived in good credit in Great Bandy-Legg Walk, in the borough of South- wark.” No.; we must perforce permit all the fair caligraphers to fade into that hazy cost their host). John Ayres and his Dulcinea oblivion into which we fear even “Great were wedded, clubbed their savings, and the Bandy-Legg Walk” itself has lapsed. “Major’’ com- We will sup- menced busi- & | pose that the ness as a writ ºc& ſºc/anta, 3&/offer; 4a/. student has ing-master in by this time St. Paul’s e & w º sufficiently churchyard. 206 £& %24*g, & a % 4/4 |2. practised the His merited * - various hands good fortune / a. Jºž %tev: 2% |/ to be able to followed him. 20 ! . % 7 * 4 || 0 || 6 form all the Of his “Tutor & letters, both of to Penman- /90} , %anu% &ca, % /4} / é the capital ship,” pub- | % and the small lished in 1695 - , Z & alphabet, in Massey mag. 24.0] a &ić.cº. Öræow. // 7|0|0 the different niloquently - & gradations of rem a r k s :— 4% , eace: 26,4&n. % 4 || 0 || 6 || size from large “It is indeed 7 Z - text to small a porm pous .4% 7 (T § hand. The book. o Jó a 43&cA %acco % 3 ||6 || 4 ||6|ft| <3 next point is and who pos- cº | to increase the sesses it has !, speed at which a valuable cimeliºm. ; ” and adds his testimony to the prosperity of the ex-footman, to the effect that Ayres's busi- FIG. 25.-LED GER CLERR. he can form the letters cor- rectly, until a standard of average rapidity is | reached. During this latter process the writer ness “brought willinevitably in at its most -& —cº- eman cipate flourishing 6×× Af - himself to time near zº % a-zº ºf degree £800 per %-42…o zzºz.4a…) % *** from the Striot a n n u m .” “copy book” When we take style of chiro- into conside- ration the greater value of money a couple of cen- turies ago, we cannot resist the convic- tion that the “Col on e l’” did in deed *74…” “flourish ’’ to Some purpose. We have, however, committed a grave error. Place anta, dames is an excellent motto, and yet we have not only omitted to give the ladies priority, but, still worse, have not now suffi- cient space even to allude to the feats and fame of olden writing- mistresses. Else would we speak of Hester English (who, by the way, was a French noman), who was a notable penwoman in the days of our James I., and enjoyed the friendship of Bishop Hall; of Elizabeth Lucas, born 1510, who was a “curious calligrapher,” Writing - mistresses, zºo & FIG. 26,-CORRESPONDING CLERK. 27% A*o-z-z-r ~&z2 % graphy, and “hand ” become formed ; that is to say, it will assume g º that distinc- e---~~~~~ —e.ceezzº a.a5 t i v e C a st which idio- syncracy,tem- perament, and circumstances must almost ºv’-az/… *. of necessity innpress upon it. It is of course impossible for us to dictate what this style may be, for handwritings differ almost as much as voices or faces. There are, however, certain types which are capable of discrimination, and differ, both as to form and requisite rapidity of production, with the writer's occupation and requirements. We may broadly define the most usual styles of penmanship as, ordinary current hand, current hand adopted by ladies, and those styles suited to the counting-house, the Civil 494 THE UNIVERSAI, IVSTRUCTO R. Service, the legal profession, to writing for the press, and to copying of various descriptions. The average speed necessary for these dif- ferent kinds of writing differs considerably. Every one, even if their use of the pen is limited to an occasional letter to a friend, or some short memoranda, should resolve to attain a good average speed; and should, therefore, when some degree of freedom is attained, “time” themselves until they have **śspeeds acquired fair rapidity. For com- for º mercial pursuits, speedisindispen- purposes, Sable, although it may vary with different departments. An “entering clerk” should be able to write at least twenty-four words perminute. Some can exceed this considerably, A good “ledger clerk’’ will do his “headings” at about nine words, and his entries at about twenty words, per minute, although many, again, are more rapid than this. The “corresponding clerk” must be up to a capital maximum speed when the Occasion is pressing, say working against time to catch a foreign mail. From thirty to thirty-five words per minute are fair Tates. In Official life, as in the various branches of the Civil Service, speed is generally less regarded, and some descriptions of legal pen- Żmanshipare executed with extreme deliberation. A good copyist of ordinary matter should reach thirty words, and an author, if well up in his subject, ought to gain an average of from thirty- five to forty words. Many write with much greater rapidity, as the printers know to their Cost, Various exercises may be adopted for the pur- pose of gaining both freedom and rapidity of hand, when some facility has been acquired at Small hand. These forms may vary from straight horizontal lines from left to right, and of different lengths, to any modification of Suitable curves, which can be struck whilst the & pen and the fingers are kept in Exercises . Correct position and the hand *:::: *is supported only on the end of the little finger. From the straight line an advance may be made to what Some of the old masters termed “saw teeth,” or jagged lines of zigzag, first of one elevation, then of varying heights. In the first kind, the hair-stroke should be carried from the bottom. Care should be taken not to terminate the Zigzags by a sharp angle, but give them a Slight and easy curve. Loops, successions of ellipses, Scrolls, struck both from the right and the left, and downwards, and “cheques,” or Series of double loops, also form useful practice. In fact, almost any line or sweep that can be struck without changing the proper position of the hand, may be practised on odd scraps of Waste paper, with the certain result of con- ferring adroitness. Any of these free-hand exer- cises should be repeated thirty or forty times, the pupil endeavouring to render each more Symmetrical and rapid than the preceding one. Sundry exercises may also be adopted to gain facility in joining letters without lifting the pen. An adroit penman, who understands his work, will very rarely lift his pen in the middle of a word. Rapid writers can generally form several succeeding short words without doing SO. In this case the distances between the Words must be made of sufficient width to preclude the possibility of mistaking two words So joined for one. This is a point which must never be overlooked, Or the writing becomes neces- Sarily more or less illegible. In this matter, each penman should adopt such devices as approve themselves to him, provided always that legibility is not sacrificed to rapidity. In all cases never begin to write at full speed. This rule is a good One to observe in almost every kind of work, or even of play, but it obtains especially in regard to writing. The almost inevitable result of commencing too rapidly is that the writer gets hurried, and that this state of things once initiated, continues through- out the work, whether the latter lasts an hour or a day, to the deterioration of penmanship and the injury of temper. Turning now to special branches of penman- ship, we present a few specimens. The hand shown at fig. 24 is well adapteds ial branch for an entering clerk, being very*.* legible, although capable of fairly penmanshi. rapid production. The entries in - the ledger are usually made with more attention to minutiae of caligraphy than those in the day- book or the journal, and a style somewhat after the pattern of fig. 25 is well adapted for a ledger- clerk. The headings of the different accounts should be in a good bold large or half-text hand, the capitals of which are frequently made somewhat less smoothly curved than usual, to avoid a look of schoolboy primness. We may mention that it is always advisable when a ledger-clerk has to do with a book in which a predecessor has already made entries, to approximate his own subsequent headings to the others in size, as it gives the ledger an uniform and businesslike appearance. A compact mode of writing should be adopted in bookkeeping, the loops and tails of the letters not being permitted to encroach upon the domain of the preceding or following lines, and all flourishes to capitals, etc., being rigidly es- chewed. Great neatness and clearness in the formation of figures is also indispensable. If the student should be acquiring the rudiments of bookkeeping from a set of model books before entering a counting-house, he must bear in mind that no erasures whatever are tolerated in actual business, and must school himself, even in preliminary practice, to the needful care and correctness. The specimen at fig. 26, which is very suitable for a corre- sponding clerk, is more flowing, and can have greater latitude in the matter of flourished capitals, etc. If the letters are to be copied by means of the ordinary copying-press, this hand may, however, be rather too light. The style of writing where the upstrokes are nearly as heavy as the downstrokes will yield much better copies. This should be written with a tolerably broad-nibbed pen, so that all the lines may be well fed with the ink, it being impossible to obtain good press copies from a light, slightly- inked upstroke. Before passing to the other styles of writing, we will briefly speak of that most appropriate for the gentler sex. Exercises for acquiring speed, PENMAAWSIIIP. 495 Here we may remark that fashion has—as in other matters—been much more powerful : * ~ * in ruling feminine chirograph Ladies graphy - than that of men. About a cen- penmanship. e g tury since, ladies wrote usually a modified Italian hand of considerable ele- gance. For Some inconceivable reason, how- ever, fashion demanded the abandonment of this flowing style of writing in favour of what is known as “angular ” hand (example given at fig. 23), equally fatiguing to write and difficult to read. Gradually, too, the characteristic of this chirography became ex aggerated, until it deserved to be styled in plain English a slipshod, spiky scribble. Not the least of the disadvantages of a very angular hand is the utter want in the writing of that individuality which gives variety and power to the penmanship of men. Now, however, that women have entered many branches of official and commercial work hitherto filled only by the male sex, there are symptoms that their writing will partake of a bolder and more common-sense character. Teachers of writing and school inspectors have long desired such a change, as the three follow- ing extracts from a number in the Blue Books will show. Mr. Parez, Government Inspector, Says :-" The character which was once called ladies' hand is now, I am thank- Qºjectiºns; ful to say, rapidly disappearing, * and a bold round character is and, taking its place.” Mr. Koe thinks that “writing is better taught by masters than by mistresses;” and Mr. Waddington remarks : “In revising a large number of exercises worked by female candidates for admission into the normal Schools. . . . . I was struck by the angularity of the penmanship. This is a defect which might be easily remedied if mistresses would insist on a large round hand as a standard for a good mark for this subject. But I am told that the parents prefer the angular hand as more elegant, and that, consequently, the teachers are obliged to adopt it for girls.” In connection with our objection to the Sameness which angular writing gives to the penmanship of different people, we may refer to Some remarks of Mr. George Seton, quoted in our first paper. He goes on to say that the chirography of some celebrated women shows pleasant exceptions — “As an example of a fine female hand, I may mention that of the Queen, whose signa- ture is peculiarly bold and dignified. The handwriting of most of the literary ladies who figure in my collection of autographs is by no means remarkable for its beauty. While Miss Ferrier, Mrs. Trollope, Miss Mitford, and Miss Martineau, all write very ordinary hands, those of ‘L. E. L.’ and Mrs. Norton, although by no means pretty, have the merit of being both regular and legible. As tolerably favourable examples, I may mention the Countess of Bles- sington, Lady Eastlake, Helen Faucit (Mrs. Martin), Mrs. Godwin, Lady Charlotte Bury, and Adelaide Kemble, the handwriting of the three last, although very different in character, being bold and decided ; while that of Char- lotte Bronté may be referred to as remarkable for its legibility, notwithstanding its excessive minuteness.” A considerable number of people adopt the perpendicular or upright style of penmanship. This hand, in any of its modifications, has, un- doubtedly the merit of great legibility; but it is slow, and can lay no claim to elegance. Still its plainness is so strong a recommendation, that different styles of this hand are ... m.,,,,, in common use; and most legal º” writing partakes of an upright character, combined with a very rounded form many letters. Akin to the preceding is a style called “back-sloped,” or “back-hand.” This is less used then the preceding, because it is much more difficult to execute ; indeed, the ordinary canons of penmanship are set at . naught in writing back-hand, as the characters are formed at an obtuse angle, and written towards the body of the penman, in place of at an acute angle and anay from the body towards the right hand. Some years since a correspondent of the Times strongly recommendedback-hand, on the ground that in ordinary writing muscular action was wasted, whereas in back-hand it was saved. This is, however, extremely questionable, for while one set of muscles might be relieved to some extent by the use of this style of chiro- graphy, another set would be more exercised. It is probable, too, that the persistent practice of back-sloped writing would injure the hand for certain other kinds, and it has little commercial value. A corresponding clerk might, it is true, be permitted to use it if his writing were very legible ; but even then it is not adapted for copying by the press. For an entering or ledger clerk it would be useless. Literary men, and those who are not obliged to maintain an uniform style of handwriting, might find the occasional adoption of the back-slope a relief. Alexander Dumas père, who during his fertile career had probably covered more reams of paper than almost any author, mentions in his “Memoirs,” that in order to ease his hand, he wrote his novels “off-handed,” or in the ordi- nary manner, slanting to the right, and his plays back-handed, or with the inclination to the left. A desire of singularity probably leads some people to adopt ordinarily the latter hand, as to a spectator who has not previously witnessed the operation, there is something very striking in seeing an individual write in well-formed characters straight down the paper à la chimoise. Some contrive to keep the bottom loops of their letters very wide and black, while the upper portions are almost like hair lines. Writing of this kind presents at a little distance the appearance of heavy black lines ruled across the page. Of course this description of chirography can never be exe- cuted with rapidity, and this fact necessarily renders it unsuitable for most kinds of writ- ing employed for practical purposes. That a current hand should be capable of rapid execution may be considered almost a sine quá mon. As a rule, we should strive after the greatest speed compatible with legibility. Back-slope ’’ hand, THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. sº sº. Sº exºS. 3. Nº. - * . 3-Yº, , * * * d #3: Sº? º_a, \ ~ º º sº º 224 XV. SPRINGS, RIVERS, AND LAKES. WHENCE come the rivers? From springs. Whence come the springs At that point the investigation of this portion of our subject begins. All the water which rises to the sur- face of the earth in springs, all the rivers, great and Small, which flow into the ocean, all the enormous fresh-water lakes of the Old and New Worlds, come from the rain which descends upon the earth ; and that rain is the result of the evaporation from the ocean—and, now that | - * * | | | ;SJ sº . . . s. SSS §§ SSS: N the rivers and lakcs exist, from them too— under the influence of heat. The average quantity of water in the form of Tain which is returned to the earth cannot g Of course be ascertained. All the Rainfall moisture raised by evaporation, condensed in the upper strata of the atmosphere, and then falling as rain, Snow, and hail, is not immediately returned to the earth, a consider- able portion being arrested and absorbed by the vegetation, to which it is necessary for the preservation of life. Professor Geikie tells us that about sixty-eight cubic inches of water fall upon the British Islands in the course of a year, and our country is far from being the most rainy region on the face of the globe. In tropical regions the rainfall is much greater. On the west coast of England, where the rainfall is heavier than in other parts of Hot SPRINGS IN THE WAIKATO DISTRIOT, NEW Z1. ALAND. the island, it seldom exceeds 38 inches; but on the coast of India 125 inches in the year is not uncommon ; and in the Western Ghauts (or coast mountain district), south of Bombay, the amount of 302 inches has been known to fall. At Cayenne, South America, 21 inches of rain have fallen in a single day, or about as much as falls in a whole year in central Germany. In some parts of Brazil 276 inches have fallen in a year. There is, then, a continual return to the earth of the water abstracted from the Sea by evaporation—a perpetual circuit of moisture ; and the next step in the inquiry is to ascertain how the restoration is effected. It is easy enough to imagine that when rain descends on mountains it rolls swiftly down the steep slopes, forming mountain torrents, and that many of these uniting, according as “r. ** * º-ºº: the conformation of the land affords channels, great rivers are formed, which traverse the lower ground and ultimately find their way to the sea. But the land is not all elevated ; there are extensive plaims and valleys on which the rain descends, and where thore is not the momentum of gravity derived from a rapid fall, to force the water onward and so form a stream. Besides, it is one of the most familiar facts that the greater number of rivers do not have their origin in mountain torrents formed directly by the rainfall, but rise from springs, or comparatively small fountains of water. apparently, coming from the interior of the earth. These springs, like the mountain tor- rents, are fed by the rain, although in the one case the process is less visible than in the other. We all know that the softer portions of the PHYSICAI, GEOGRAPHY, 497 earth's surface readily absorb moisture ; but - it is not so evident that the Action of ... harder rocks are also readily per- *** meated by the rain. The lighter soils lie on the top of rocks of various degrees of hardness; and if only the surface absorbed the water, it would soon be in the condition of a wet sponge which can hold no more moisture. All rocks and minerals, even those we consider to be the hardest, are permeable by water ; for rocks and minerals are all composed of vari- ously-shaped grains, crystals, or particles, and the water works its way through the inter- stices, or even through the particles themselves. The hard rocks above ground and the hard rocks below ground alike afford innumerable channels by which the rain makes its way to a considerable depth below the surface. Some rocks, such as Sandstone, are porous—that is, there are minute spaces between the particles of which they xºs are composed —and all are traversed by cracks, Some very minute, O the r s of Sºrvºº-ºº: peº º º %.S.A.W # º § 3.Te § due in the first N two hundred pounds in weight. Other ob- servers have noted that nocturnal contrac- tions sometimes produce so great a strain upon the surface of exposed rocks as to dis- integrate them into sand, or to cause them to crack or peel off in irregularly-shaped pieces. An important result of this external loss will be noticed further on, when describing the chemical action of rain. Water having, by the force of gravity, made its way into the narrow channels thus produced, another powerful agent comes , , into operation—frost. Water ex-Action of frost. pands when freezing, and the force it exerts is very great. One of the most familiar of house- hold experiences is the bursting of water-pipes in severe winters. A precisely similar effect takes place in the small channels which inter- sect the hardest rocks. The contained water and with a resistless force fractures the rock, in- creasing the number of cracks. As the existing chan- nels widen, and when new greater size. iº º o n e s a Te sº Nº E:\ . These cracks NS ºf Hºş formed, more inute § º º: water enters WWNQ A\ \SºferºV, 4 - O I IO l Il Ul U 6. § -" º §§ §= § § A channels NY: # º: ºğ% the rock, more §§§ E== º º §§ N NºWN WNº. º \ \\\ § †E \ \ ice is formed, place to varia- tºº, jºin \\y and the force tions of tem- º §== #º. §% exerted con- perature and ºfflºº §% tinues to in- the action of º flºº tº: ºf crease until the f rost, a n d jº, - =º †: block of rock is sometimes to º #s. º º completely volcanic ac- º #º sº sº #####9. ºš broken up ; tion; and they º º º ºA'ſ ºf 4 large masses are increased * § - #º º º sºlº ; §§ º % Wºº % are sometimes by the º: ſº º: ºf: #iº %)\}*% detached, and Cal action and ſºftº 㺠§ §§§NWW'ſ Nº. %. fresh surface the dynamic §§ º º !, wº, is exposed to force of the sº s” ºftº 4& §º ſº." atmospheric water. Rocks —º- *ſº 'º. action. expand under fººt E -- e-o- -- º The rock º º: NEEDLE ROCK CAVERN, JERSEY. º * contract with cold, so that those external rocks which are exposed to the powerful rays of the sun by day and to the cool air at night, undergo an alternate expansion and contrac- tion which loosens the particles of the stone. Experiments have been made with fine-grained granite, one of the hardest of rocks, proving that the rate of expansion for every degree Fahrenheit of increment of heat above the average temperature to which it is exposed is about equal to 1 in 207,500; the expansion of white crystalline marble is considerably greater; and that of sandstone about double that of granite. Dr. Livingstone, in describing the country traversed by the Zambesi, in tropical Africa, tells us that the surfaces of rocks which during the day were heated up to 137° Fahren- heit, cooled so rapidly by radiation at night that, unable to sustain the strain of contrac- tion, they split and threw off sharp angular fragments from a few ounces to a hundred or VOI. I. tegrated and exposed, next becomes subject to the chemical action of the water, - * which falls upon its surface and Chººſion permeates its substance. In “” descending through the atmosphere the rain absorbs some of the ingredients of the air, among them carbonic acid gas, which is present in the proportion of 1 volume to 2,500, and to which, especially in volcanic districts, large additions are made from fissures in the earth, from which the poisonous gas issues. It is also produced by the decay of vegetable matters ; and as the rain not only descends directly on the rocks, but also reaches them after having washed in some cases a considerable space of the surface of the earth, it is commonly highly charged with the gas. The water fills the crevices, and the carbonic acid at once acts upon the rocks, dissolving the substance. Chalk or limestone is dissolved and carried away, almost as readily 32 498 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. as Sugar is dissolved and absorbed by water. Few rocks, even the hardest, can resist the action. As the cracks or channels become more capacious, the weight of the water itself be- comes an additional means of forcing its way downwards to the underlying strata. In some limestone districts the decomposition of the rock from the effect of the carbonized rain forms vertical cavities, into which the surface drainage flows, and in course of time the water makes a system of channels through the lime- stone, formaing vast grottoes and caves. The stupendous Mammoth Cave of Kentucky is a most remarkable instance of the power of water exerted in this direction ; and nearer home are the Peak Caverns, in Derbyshire, and many subterranean caverns. By the falling in of the roofs of such caverns, streams are sometimes engulfed, and after long subterranean courses e rise to the surface again. This **lips, phenomenon is exhibited on a large scale in Some parts of western America; and is familiar to all who are acquainted with the “swallows” of the pretty little river Mole, in Surrey. Terrible catastrophes sometimes result from the subterranean waters decom- posing and wearing away the bases of rocks (especially sandstone, limestone, and conglo- merate), and so producing landslips. Many disasters of the kind might be enumerated, were it necessary, among them that at Naina Tal, in India, in the summer of 1880. Clay is impermeable by water; but chalk, as we have seen, is rapidly dissolved. Where, then, chalk or sand interposes between the strata of clay, and occupies a basin-like depression, the water remains imprisoned, forming a subter- ranean lake. It cannot pass downwards, and the accompanying diagram represents the posi- tion. Here a b c show the surface of the earth, ARTESIAN WELL, and f g the chalk, charged with water. If a well, d, is sunk, the water, in obedience to the law which makes it rise to the level of its source, flows upwards. A well of this kind is known e as an artesian well ; and in some Artesian Wells instances the boring is continued to a great depth, it being necessary to cut through various strata before the chalk is reached. In some chalk districts the stratum is so saturated that it can continue to supply a large yield of water for eighteen months after it has ceased to receive supplies from the surface. Unable to penetrate downwards, or to rise to the surface, water will often run, in the form of underground rivers, for many miles in a lateral direction, and artesian wells may be sunk with success at great distances from any perceptible Supply, and in desert regions where rain has never been known to fall. Sometimes the chalk structure is broken by a valley, or de- pression, reaching into the underlying clay, than raim or surface water. and then the liberated water forms hillside Springs. - But a considerable portion of the water which has made its way underground is not arrested in its downward course until it has reached a. depth perhaps of many thousand feet, when its farther progress is stayed by some impermeable stratum. Its force has increased with the depth, and a mass of water of great weight is formed, which travels laterally until some opening to the surface is met with ; and ther, it rushes upwards with irresistible force, and reaching the surface, forms springs, which, dis- charging on the surface, become the sources of brooks and rivers. When the impermeable stratum lies near the surface, so that the rain- water cannot sink to a great depth, there are marshes, with a rank vegetation. Rivers, then, are fed by the rain which runs, off the surface, and by springs, which restore to the surface the rain which has sunk into the earth. There is a continuous circuit, the only loss being the amount of water which remains in the limestone strata and the cavities filled by underground lakes. In its long journey through the rocky and other strata, the water is greatly changed in character by the ingredients it * has acquired. The carbonic acid *::::::::: of gained from the atmosphere is “” added to by the carbonic acid furnished by the decay of vegetable fibre. Subterranean water readily absorbs the gas, and so obtains greatly increased power of attacking even the most obdurate rocks. When, in districts affected by volcanic action, the temperature of the water is considerably raised, its solvent capacity, espe- cially for silica (flint), is greatly augmented, and hot springs frequently contain a large portion of that substance. Chalk is, as we have seen, held in solution where the water has passed through a stratum. of that character. Iron, sulphur, salts, and Other mineral products, are, according to the nature of the districts traversed, brought to the surface ; and in some districts, even in places where volcanic action has long since ceased, or which are at a great distance from centres of volcanic activity, the heat has been so effectually retained, that the water rising at the Springs is of a very high temperature. Hard and soft water are terms to which we are all accustomed. Spring water is very rarely quite pure, although brighter and more sparkling in appearance That appearance is due to the carbonate and sulphate of limc and other mineral substances held in solution. Ordinary spring water contains a small amount of carbonate and sulphate of lime, common salt, and chlorides of calcium and magnesia. It is familiarly known as “hard” water, because Soap will not dissolve properly in it, and it is therefore unfit for washing purposes, for which “soft” or river water is adapted. Sometimes the quantity of lime, or of silex, is so great that it is deposited at the surface, on wood or other objects exposed to its action. When shells, twigs, or other substances are covered with a crust of the mineral, the springs are Springs. GEO LOG' Y. 499 known as incrusting springs; when the exposed substances are So Saturated with the mineral as entirely to change their character and resemble stone, the springs are described as petrifying. In some parts of Italy the deposition of mineral matter is so considerable that it is quarried, and the material—travetine, or calcareous tufa-is employed very extensively for building purposes. The water of hot springs, having traversed volcanic regions, deposits silica or flint when the heated water cools or evapo- rates. Near one of the geysers, or hot springs of Iceland, is a vast deposit, about a hundred feet thick ; and similar effects are observable at the hot springs in New Zealand, and in the Yellowstone region, Wyoming Territory, Western America. Chalybeate or ferruginous springs contain iron in solution ; Saline, various salts; ačrated, carbonic acid gas; and sulphureous, sulphur. Some well-known springs contain a mixture of these substances; and in particular districts the various kinds of springs are in close con- tiguity. The water of mineral springs is fre- quently hot or warm, as at Bath, and Buxton, Harrogate, and other places in this country ; in Germany, France, Spain, Switzerland, and in Colorado, North America. Professor Ramsay has calculated that the Bath hot springs annually discharge a quantity of mineral matter equivalent to a mass a hundred and forty feet high and nine feet in diameter. The temperature of the springs varies from 117° to 120°Fahr., that amount of heat being due to volcanic action, probably at some remote period; for it is known that for centuries after volcanic eruptions have ceased the water of springs rising in districts near extinct volcanoes is of a very high temperature. At present the active volcanoes nearest to Bath are in Iceland and Italy, distant respectively about 900 and 1100 miles. There are saline Springs so highly charged with salt that they are known as brine springs, and the deposits form beds of rock salt. §§ºšº: ==sº § ºvº zºº º - ſº ºśs OG CARBONIFEROUS SYSTEM. ONE of the most Temarkable features of the physical geography of England is the moun- ... tainous range—known as the The Pennine Pennine chain—which forms a chain. rocky “backbone” to the northern part of the country, from near the sources of the upper Tyme to the Peak of Derby- shire and the eastern borders of Stafford- shire. It is by no means a continuous ridge, but a great mass of high land, mostly of lime- stone and sandstone, which has been in the course of long ages carved and shaped into high broad moorland, lofty hills, and deep valleys, and in many parts honeycombed with caverns. The highest point is Cross Fell in chapter. Northumberland, 2,901 feet above the sea level; and the moorlands in Northumberland, Dur- ham, West Yorkshire, East Lancashire, and North Staffordshire are from 500 to 1,000 feet in height. Neither the Pennine range nor the strata of which it is composed were in exist- ence during the Devonian period, which formed the subject of our remarks in the preceding They represent the formations next in order of succession, which are known as “Carboniferous ” because of the coal associated with them. The Coal measures, however, form but one, and that the uppermost, member of the series. Below these, though not easily Separated from them, occurs what is known as the “millstone grit.” This is commonly a coarse sandstone, sometimes coarse emough to be described as a conglomerate, and suffici- ently hard to be used for millstones. Beneath the “grit” comes the Carboniferous Limestone, often called “Mountain Limestone,” because it goes to form some of the principal mountain masses of England. These carboniferous strata, taken as a whole, are of the deepest interest. Their practical value is of course very great, and it is difficult to say how much modern civilization has been in- fluenced by the immense stores of fossil fuel. laid up in the coal measures; but apart from these considerations, there is much to attract the attention of the geologist in this group of rocks. The strata succeed one another, from the earliest to the latest, throughout a large- area, without any break, and record in their varying characters the changing conditions under which they were deposited, closing with an enormous growth of vegetation, some of it sufficiently well preserved to enable scientific men to recognize its character and to ascertain many of even its minute features. Wherever we can get to the bottom of the carboniferous series in the south-western parts of England, and in South Wales. * we find that they rest upon whatlºw ºne are called the Lover Limestone €S, Shales. These beds vary very much in charac- ter and thickness. Sometimes they are earthy limestones, and sometimes clays and shales. In Northumberland and Durham the corre- sponding beds are mostly “white and grey sandstones with greenish-grey shales, cement stones, and limestone.” In Scotland they occur as a thick series of “white sandstones, blue and black shales, iromstones, and thin cherty limestones with occasional meagre seams of coal,” and are called Calciferous Sand- Stone. These lower beds are always more or less fossiliferous. Corals, shells, and Crinoids occur : fish remains are found in Thes, fossi * * eir fossils, the lower limestone shales of Bristol and elsewhere, and trilobites have been met with in the same beds in the Mendip Hills. The Carboniferous limestone which rises above these “shales '' is of variable thickness. In the south-west it is from 500 to 3,000 * feet thick; in North Stafford. Cºboniferºus shire it has a thickness of more * than 4,000 feet. As the strata are traced further Carboniferous strata 500 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. north, both the limestone and the millstone grit give indications of the former existence of land in the vicinity whilst they were being deposited. Professor Phillips says: “In passing through Northumberland, they [the limestones] become continually more and more subdivided by interpositions of Sandstone, shale, and coal, till on the sea coast, north of Belford, a part of this series contains no less than thirteen bands of limestone, 121 feet in total thickness, separated by many times their thickness of Sandstone and shale ; and under the whole lie 39: *. Gº DU BLIN * * * * massive limestones of the south-west and cen- tral parts of England, and in North º: #. we have in In Scotland. the great midland valley of Scotland, stretch- ing from the Firth of Clyde to the Firth of Forth, a Series of Sandstones, shales, coals, iron- stones, and bands of encrinital limestone, with numerous evidences of contemporaneous vol- canic action.* In Ireland the carboniferous limestone forms the great central plain of the country, and is there divided into three members—lower, S-º. (º L El C. ESTER B1 RMINGHAM LONDON SQ Vy O R C E S T ER GLO U CESTER 3. * º SKETCH MAP SHOWING THE COAL FIELDS OF THE BRITISH ISLANDS. workable seams of coal. The character of all the western and north-western part of North- umberland corresponds to this change of the component strata. Instead of the beautiful green pastures which delight our eyes amidst the calcareous dales of Derbyshire and York- shire, wide, heathy, and boggy moorlands over- Spread the surface of sandstones and shales; and we seem to wander in a region of barren coal measures rather than on the range of the thickest carboniferous limestones.” Still farther north the change in the same direction is more marked. Instead of the * middle, and upper ; the whole formation at- taining a thickness of from 2,500 to 3,000 feet. The “Yoredale rocks" and “upper lime- stone shales” are a series of flag-stones, grit Stones, shales, seams of coal and limestones, which come between the carboniferous lime- stones and the millstone grit in parts of Derbyshire, Yorkshire, Upperlimestone. Durham, and Northumberland, They are commonly included with the mill- * The “toadstones" of Derbyshire are beds of volcanic nic... Qrigin, probably contemporaneous; the “Whin Sill” of Teesdale is an intruded mass of dolerite. GEOI, O.G. P. - ** 501 stone grit, and since it would appear that all the subdivisions of the grit are arbitrary and local, there is no great importance to be attached to these minor details of classification. The most abundant fossils of the carboni- ferous limestone are corals, polyzoa, crinoids, and molluscs (including brachio- Fauna of the pods). In some of the Yoredale ** rocks goniatites are particularly abundant ; trilobites are Scarce ; fish remains 2.I’6 IllinºleI’OllS. The lower limestone shales and their equiva- lents are shallow water deposits, and show that while they were being laid down The ºal a change of level had com- *** menced, but had not made much progress. The limestone was deposited in a deeper sea, though the depth was probably only moderate. It is also likely that a gradual sub- sidence was going on through the whole period of the limestone formation, Then a change of movement Once more altered the character of the deposits, and coarse sand was laid down over the same area. This went on for a long time, as the great thickness of the millstone grit shows, until finally one of the most re- markable series of events occurred of which we have any record in geological history. All the country which is now known as the British Isles—and a great deal besides—was raised a and luxuriantly from end to end of the area over which we now find coal, but we can scarcely imagine that it would be uniform in its character, or the conditions everywhere exactly the same. As a matter of fact, not only do the coal seams vary in thickness ; they differ greatly also in quality, and therefore in eco- nomic value. It is calculated that the coal measures of Great Britain cover more than 500 square miles. The Belgian coal area is - about the same in extent, and Pºpº ºf "al the French more than the two * combined—1,200 square miles. world. Coal is also found in Asia Minor, Spain, Germany, Russia, China, Australia, British North America, the United States, Brazil, and British India. Carboniferous lime- stone was recognized by the Arctic Expedition under Sir George Nares as forming a part of the most northerly land reached by them ; and true coal exists in Bear Island, latitude 75° N.” There have been some attempts to estimate the length of that part of the carboniferous era. in this country during which the e coal measures were being de- * * osited ; and although the cal- * * * i. is not worth much, it Great Britain, will give the reader some idea of the impres- sion produced upon those who have been SECTION ACROSS THE CARBONIFEROUs Rocks of DERBYSHIRE AND LAN CASHIRE (After Ramsay). 1. Carboniferous Limestone. 2. Yoredale Shales. 3. Millstone Grit. 4. Coal Measures. 5. Permian Limestone. 6. New Red Sandstone. little above the sea level, and in course of time became densely covered with luxuriant vegeta- tion. After a while the land sank sufficiently to submerge these forests, and the rotting vege- tation was buried beneath deposits of mud and sand to become coal. Each coal seam in Our collieries represents one such series : first, there is what is known as the “underclay ”— the soil upon which the ancient vegetation grew—and above this is the coal formed out of the altered plants. The coal is succeeded by shales and sandstones. Then come the under- clays, coals, and shales ; and so on through the entire thickness of the coal measures. The two most remarkable features about these facts are the persistency with which the alternations of Cóndition con- tinued, and the very large area over which they occurred. In North Stafford- shire, for instance, forty-two seams of coal have been met with, one below the other, represent- ing forty-two successive forest growths, each Sufficient to make, when carbonised and com- pressed, a seam more than a foot thick; and forty-two changes of level at intervals which were adapted to the formation of the seams. It must not be inferred that so many or more distinct layers of vegetation have been laid down through the length and breadth of the country : there is reason to believe that the forests of the carboniferous period grew freely Coal seams, greatly occupied in the investigation of the extent and character of our coal fields. In South Wales the total thickness of the coal measures is from 10,000 to 12,000 feet. This in- cludes, of course, coal seams and all intervening beds, which would be deposited at various rates. It has, however, been estimated that the sediment might increase at the rate of two feet in a century, but that it would take pro- bably one thousand years to form a bed of coal three feet thick; and in this way Professor Hull estimates that the South Wales coal field may represent a period of 640,000 years. However that may be, the end of the carboni- ferous period in this country came—the last series of forests was overwhelmed and buried beneath sedimen- tary deposits, and a new order of things which we recognize as the Permian came about. It must have been about this time that—to re- turn to our first lesson (p. 17)—the Mendips were formed. The strata of which they are composed had been deposited, and by a movement of the land they were now upheaved with their “long The close of the period: * Beds of “lignite,” imperfectly formed coal, occur in other formations; for example, the “brown coal '' of Germany, similar beds in New Zealand and Aus- tralia, and the ligmites of Bovey Tracey in Devon- shire. These are all of later (Tertiary) age, and the coal worked at Brora, N.B., is of Oolitic age. ... -- 502 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR, axis” running nearly east and west. The Pennine chain owes its origin to another move- ment in the opposite direction. The reason why the coal is usually found in “basins” will now be apparent. The enormous ... ..., extent to which the Pennine ***" chain has suffered denudation is visible everywhere: not only the coal measures, but the millstone grit and great masses of the underlying limestone, have been worn away over large areas; and as the same processes have been going on over the whole country, it will easily be understood that it is only where coal has been protected by the position into which it was thrown by the crumpling of the strata and by overlying deposits, that it has been preserved. This will be better understood by Teference to the diagram on the preceding page, which shows how the land was thrown into east and west curves, when the Pennine chain was elevated, just as curves in the opposite direction (north and south) had been produced by the movement which previously elevated the Mendip Hills—hence the “basins” in which the coal now lies. “The British coal fields,” says Professor Hull, “now form a series of basins, some par- & s & tially concealed by the sea, or *; * by the overspread of newer for. © 101S, mations, Sometimes visible all round their margins. The visible coal basins are—(1) South Wales; (2) Forest of Dean; (3) . Burnley; (4) Ayrshire; (5) The Clyde basin; (6) Midlothian ; (7) Tipperary and Kilkenny; (8) Leitrim (Connaught coal field). The partly concealed basins are—(1) Somersetshire ; (2) The Midland basin, of which Derbyshire, Shrewsbury, South Staffordshire, Warwick. shire, Leicestershire, and North Staffordshire coal fields form the marginal outcrop, and of which the northern margin is concealed; (3) The South Lancashire and Cheshire basin, of which the coal fields of South Lancashire, Flintshire, and Cheshire form the marginal limits, the Southern margin being concealed ; (4) The Yorkshire, Derbyshire, and Notts basin, of which the eastern margin is concealed; (5) The Northumberland and Durham basin, of which the eastern and southern margins are concealed; and (6) The Cumberland basin, of which the eastern and western margins are con- cealed. In Ireland, the coal basin of Tyrone.” The principal coal fields of this country are shown in the preceding sketch map, which conveys a clearer idea of their position than any merely verbal description can do. s S.º.º.º. sº 3. § Bºº - sº 㺠FRENCH PRONUNCIATION, Eä SºS THE CONSONANTS (§ 74, S continued). A VAST number of proper nouns sound the final s, and particularly those that are taken from dead, or from modern foreign languages: Calas, Douglas, Agésilas, Epaminondas, Midas, Abrantès, Agnès, Périclés, Gonzales, Sièyes (siè-ce); Adonis, Clovis, Pâris (the son of Priaº), Thémis, Tunis, Argos, Burgos, Calva- dos, Ilſinos, Paros, Bacchus, Fleurus, Zucullus, JRomulus, Jésus, etc., etc. Further, in Rheims, Jºms, Camoëns, Rubens, Sens, Mons (a city), Cédrops, etc. Femark.-Poets discard these rules for the necessity Of Thyme. In reading aloud a piece of poetry for the first time, the reader is sometimes compelled to give a glance to the end word of the next line, before he can know whether to sound the final s of the last word of the first line or not. In the majority of cases it is Safe to assert that the final s will be mute. The fol. 19Wing are culled at random from M. Victor Hugo's Légende des Siècles: “Qn sentait la terreur des pays inconnus; Celui-Civient du Rhin ; celui-lä du Cydnus. L'empereur Sigismond et le roi Ladislas; Sans jamais m'absenter ni dire: Je suis las. Les noms de quelques-uns jusqu'à nous sont venus Ils S'appelaient Renaud, Lahire, Erivadnus. Je sens une odeur de panthère, Comme si je passais dans les monts dé Tunis; Je vous trouveen ce lieu trop d’hommes réunis. Ne va, pas refuser aux hommes le mais Parce que dix seigneurs partagent un pays.” From What has been said in the rules mažs should offer no difficulty, nor should the sound of lis in the following distich from Voltaire : “Henri dans ce moment voit sur les fleurs de lis Deux mortels Orgueilleux auprés du trône assis.” La Henriade. The articulated final s is connected with the next vowel or h mute, with the Sound of the English z : L’ibis Tétait l'oiseau sacré de l'Egypte; les querelles de Marius'Tet de Sylla ; le fils'Tawait raison. The connection of the inarticulated final s takes place, as with the other consonants that are carried on, between words that are already connected grammatically ; and whereas the rule must be strictly applied in poetry and Oratorical prose, taste and harmony require a less strict adherence to it in colloquial French. The connection will therefore take place in familiar, yet elegant prose— 1. Between an attribute and its nouns or another attribute : lesſ Yhumeurs, cesTodeurs, 20STépinards, sia,Tarbres, de beaua`âmaua, lesſ autres Tétendards. But les huit, les onze, les out offer no connections; to join here the s might lead to confusion : for instance, lesſ You? might be taken for les outes, the gills. 2. Between personal pronouns and verbs or other pronouns: mous" arriverons dams ging minutes, vous"Yen riez, ils’ Nobéissent, mous lesſy memons. 3. Between verb and regimen, auxiliary and past participle or adjective : mous irions Ten Jºhance, tu aurasTeté, mous"Yavons' Yearcité leur envie, vous'TétesTaimable. The final s of verbs whose infinitive is in en' is not heard in conversation in the 2nd person singular of the present indicative and subjunctive: tu aimes & rire, tu joues avec prudence, il faut que tu ailles d. Paris, are pron. as if they were written aime, ..joue, aille. This of course is not applicable to poetry or oratory. 4. Between adverbs and the following verb, adjective, or adverb : ilsº ont toujours"Yao'- orangé, très-Tordinaire, très-Tordinairement, il m'a pasſentendu. IIISTORY OF MOD EIR N TIMES. 503 5. Between preposition and regimen : &ansTentrailles, couri, Susſau vilain, maºtre- &ST'arts. 6. Between the conjunction and word connected; maisſon me s'en tient pas là, puis"Yils s'accrochent. For many words ending with the inarticulated S the connection, in order to avoid all ambi- guity or all affectation, would only take place if the mouns were used in the plural : l'Irlan- dais a répondu; chaque marquis allait aw cabaret; le temps | est beau; uncorps opaque; wn mets | eacquis; un, puits artésien, mon ami estassis & mes côtés; je l'ai pris | a partie; nous l'avons mis au pied du mºur; tı, an'as compris & men'veille, etc. To join the s in some of the above examples might lead to this result : l'Irlandaise, chaque marquise, mon amie est assise, je l'ai prise, mous l'avons mise, every case of which would imply a woman instead of a man as at first intended. In verse the connection would be made, it being the business of the poet to avoid any construction or combination that might lead to a quiproquo. In the plural the connections would be made, there being no chance then of mistaking the sense : lesſ Irlandais Tont répondu, tows les marquis"Yallaient, les temps"Yetaient beaua, des corps'Topaques, des mots'Tea:Quis, trois puits Tartósiens, mesTamis sont assist & mes côtés, je lesTai prisTà partie, mous les'Tavons misſau pied du mur. (The feminine plural of the last two phrases would be je lesſ Nai prises/Tâ partie, nous lesſ Navons mises/Tau pied du mºur, when it would be necessary to pronounce pri-ze-za, mi-ze-zo, making the e as slender as possible.) '* Remark.—In compound substantives the first com- ponent of which obtains an 8, there is no difference of pronunciation between the singular and plural: ww.arc- en-ciel and deua, arcs-en-ciel; wºn croc-en-jambe and des crocs-enjambe, un char & banes and plitsieurs chars à bancs, win ver & Soie and beaucoup de vers & soie, present no difference; say anº-ken, cro-ken, cha-ra, vé-ra, in both Inumbers. The learner may wonder that so much stress should be laid upon the connections of words among them- selves; let him remember that a moderate and tasteful use of connections is the touchstone of a good educa- tion in France. Even at the risk of appearing a little pedantic, let him pay attention to this point from the beginning, always remembering that it would be better in most cases to make no connection at all than to make a wrong connection, Mistakes of this description form an inexhaustible fund for jokes and puns of every description, and they are known under the characteristic names of cuirs, velours, and pataques. Cuir is the general term applied to any wrong con: nection ; velours consists in introducing ala 8; and pataquès consists in introducing a #. Cuir.—On conduisait deux soldatsau violon. “Qu'est- ce queces hommes ontfait?” criede safemétre le colonel, quiles voit passer.—“Pardon, mon colonel,” répond le caporal quicommandait l'escouade, “maiscesh9mmes ontºhué (ont tué) le sergent.”—“Comment, s'égrie le colonel, “tué le sergent l’”—“Oui, Inon colonel, je l’ai- z-entendu-z-en passant par la Cour.” “A faire mon d’voir toujours prête, Not’maitre, je v’nons vous offrir C’te paire de rasoirs pour vot' fête; Acceptez-la, Z'avec un cuir,” It is supposed that these faults are called cuirs, leather, from the analogy to the straps (cwirs) used to soften the edge of razors. To murder a language is called in French écorcher une langue—that is, to flay it : whether this accounts for the hide that is worked into Zeather, is too nice a point for us to decide. , Velours.-Il était-z'à la campagne. The z is less hard than the t, as velvet is softer than leather. Pataquès.—The following amusing anecdote, given by Domergue, explains the origin of this expression: “Un plaisant était à côté de deux!dames; tout à coup il trouve Soussa main un éventail.— Madame,” dit-il a la première, ‘cet éventail est-il a vous?”—“Il n'est point-z-à moi, monsieur.”—“Est-il a vous, madame P’ dit-il en le présentant à l'autre.—‘Iln'est pas-t-à-moi, monsieur.”— ‘Puisqu’il n'est point-z-& vow8 et qu'il n'est pas-t-à vous, ma foi, je ne sais pas-t-à gºt'est-ce.’” One cuir has obtained the freedom of the Académie's Dictionary in the expression entre quatre-z-yeux; it is quite historical in the famous song on Marlborough: “Il fut porté en terre Par quatre-z-officiers,” where it accompanies a no less striking one, viz.: “Marlbrough s'en va-t-en guerre.” To pronounce quatre yeur without the assistance of the velvety z would certainly require an elocutionary effort. $ 75. SS sounds as one hard s : assembler, bassesse, chausser, dessert, grossier, possesseur, etc. Be not led away by the fact that in English ss often Sounds like z, as in dessert and possession ; there is no exception to the Tule in French. § 76. Sc.—This combination is pronounced as one hard s whenever it precedes é or i : descel- ler, piscine, rescinder, scélérat, sceptique (mind, not skep /), Sceptre, scie, Science, vesce. In any other position it is pronounced as skin English : biscaäen, bisco'nal, biscuit, cascade, description, gascom, pascal, rescº'it, scrupule, scrutin, busc, musc, fisc. § 77. Sch.—This combination appears only in foreign words, Hebrew, Greek, Polish, German, and English ; it is always pronounced like the French ch or English sh, except in the following technical expressions, where itis pronounced sk: Schöma (more generally schème) and derivs. scherzo and scherzando (Italian forms derived from German scherzem), schindylèse (anat.), all formed with schizo, schooner. Therefore Schae- braque, schelling, scheva, schibboleth, schisme, Schiste, etc., are all pronounced sha, she, shi. Šºščº HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES, ºf º f 3. #ºsé D& ºğ XVI. THE REIGN OF EDWARD VI. THE reign of Edward VI., the son of Henry by Jane Seymour, was a period of faction, of discontent, and of clamorous contests of rival houses. But it is chiefly remarkable for the establishment in England of the principles and practice of the Reformation. It was a short reign, extending only over six years ; but it was fraught with changes of vital importance to the English nation. - The late king had in his will appointed sixteen executors to carry on the government, with a council to assist them. According to the alleged intention of King Henry, various men received new titles and honours. Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, became Duke of 60+ THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUOTO R. Somerset, and took the sole power into his hands as Lord Protector; John Dudley, Wis- count Lisle, a son of the extortioner of Henry VII., became Earl of Warwick, Bºyard Yº, and Sir Thomas Seymour, a ** brother of the Protector, was made a peer, and became Lord High Admiral. The Protector was a true friend of the party of Reform, whose opinions he shared. Accord- ingly he gave every assistance to Archbishop Cranmer in the work that prelate now earnestly set himself to achieve—the establishment of the Reformation by the correction of abuses, and the setting up of a standard of faith and doctrine freed from the superstitions of the Romish Church. With praiseworthy modera- tion, Cranmer refrained from any violent changes that should alarm or shock the people. He wished to retain part of the ceremonial and practice of the Latin Church, as having for ages commanded the reverence of the com- º §§ sull | ºš G bºº >2. *ś à ºlºs tº S */s. * § § º § §º| §% WNº NNWi-ſº \ |\\\\;=; W.J.--~ ºr § Sº & N º º º § § lºy gº-N §2. \ º º which the prayers for the dead were omitted and several other changes made, appearing four years later. The morning service in the first liturgy began with the Lord's Prayer, the exhortation, confession, and absolution being added in the second. Cranmer also prepared a book of homilies for the use of the clergy. The sacrament of the Lord's Supper was to be administered under both forms to the laity. The clergy were to be allowed to marry, a point that especially touched Cranmer, who had been obliged to send his wife and children to Germany when the bill of the Six Articles became law. With the assistance of foreign Reformers, like Peter Martyr and Martin Bucer, the thirty-nine (origin- ally forty-two) Articles of 'he The iºgy and Church were compiled, setting ...' forth the tenets held and the doc- § trines taught by the Anglican Church, The doctrines of purgatory and the &\puggosº Š ãº. § § § f§§ s§w i.* º § c. f § º t | | ; º t .i. *w § § § t º HENRY VIII. DELIVE RING THE BIBLE TO CRANMIER, munity, to avoid extremes, and while abolishing what was obsolete or objectionable, to retain those ceremonies and even that pageantry of worship, which might be useful in maintaining discipline and order. The following are the chief points of the Reformation introduced in Eng- ". *...* land, under Cranmer's auspices. Reformation, Though the Statute of the Six Articles, or, as it was familiarly called, the “bloody bill,” was repealed, the king was declared anew to be the head of the English Church; and the appointment of bishops was vested in the crown. The English Bible was circulated freely and without restric- tion ; and from the old Latin Church services, which the people had heard performed in an unknown tongue, the beautiful liturgy of the English Church, so justly adapted to the various needs of the worshippers, was compiled; the first Prayer-book of Edward VI. being printed in 1549, the second or revised Prayer-book, in veneration of images and relics were repudiated. Throughout the momentous changes introduced by Cranmer, in conjunction with Ridley and Latimer and others of the bishops, moderation and good sense, and a desire to conciliate rather than to terrify or threaten, are every- where exhibited. The retention of various rites and ceremonies, a measure afterwards, explained in the special preface in the Book of Common Prayer: “Of Ceremonies,—why some be abolished and some retained,”—and the use of the surplice, and of the bishops' robes, and the ordering of ecclesiastics as bishops, priests, and deacons, are tokens of the reluc- tance to push the innovations too far. Yet the changes introduced were received with marked disfavour in various parts of the country, especially in the north and west ; and among the clergy ğ. there were many opponents, E. notably Gardiner, bishop of Win- chester, and Bonner, bishop of London, who HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES. 505, openly disputed the power of the council to to decree ecclesiastical changes during the minority of the king, and were in consequence for a short time committed to prison. The war carried on by the Reformed party against images and pictures, and the coarse satire vented by Vulgar zealots against institutions and practices they had been taught to revo- rence, further irritated the people. The enclo- Sure of common lands, and the cessation of doles that had been distributed at the convent gates, increased the misery caused by the high price of provisions; and revolts in various parts of the kingdom were the conse- Quence. In the west the men of ' Devonshire and Cornwall rose in rebellion, and besieged Exeter. In Norfolk and Suffolk a rebellion similar to that of Wat Tyler arose, the insurgents marching under the leadership of Ket the tanner, of Wymond- ham, who held a rude court, and dispensed very rough justice on Mousehold Heath, near Norwich, under the “tree of reforma- tion.” The result of each rising was that which inevitably at- tends the outbreak of a peasant mob against troops led by skilful commanders. In each case the insurgents were dispersed with great slaughter, and the leaders were hanged. The Protect or Somerset found his position at least as full of danger as of honour. He had as opponents the great Catholic faction, and all those whom the late innovations had Offended. His own imprudent Ostentation and his inordinate am- bition increased the perils that surrounded him. To construct his new magnificent mansion, Somerset House, he caused several churches to be pulled down ; and his sudden accession of wealth and power caused him to be looked upon with eyes of envy and malevo- lence. His first formidable enemy was his own brother, Lord Sey- mour, the admiral, who had mar- ried Catherine, the widow of Henry VIII., and after her death meditated an ambitious match with the young princess Elizabeth. Foiled in an attempt to take the young king entirely out of Somerset's hands, the admiral was soon after arrested and con- veyed to the Tower. The Parliament passed a bill of attainder against him, and he was condemned to death, and executed on Tower Riots and rebel- lions: Ket, &c, N * ~ 2". sº" ſº Nº. àſ. ºš }\\ º | #| tº | I ||||||| |||ſilſ *> The Protector Somerset, and Admiral Sey- In OUT's A ROMAN CATHOLIC ARCHIBISHOP. Hill. He was a turbulent, reckless man, and his fate excited little pity. But Lord Seymour, though the noisiest, was not the most dangerous of the Protector's enemies. Dudley, Earl of War- wick, afterwards created Duke of º º Of Northumberland, was a man far 3.I W1CBC, more to be dreaded. His crafty and vigilant ambition never slept, and he was equally bold and unscrupulous. After persuading Somerset to proceed to extremities against Lord Seymour he determined to put down the protector him- self. Accordingly he took advantage of the unpopularity of Somerset with the nobility to form a faction against him ; and succeeded in causing him to be arrested, confined in the Tower, deprived of all his offices, and sentenced to a fine of £2,000—which was, however, remitted by the king. An apparent recon- ciliation was after- wards brought about between Somerset and the wily Dudley, who Superseded him in the Office Of Protector. From this time Dudley became all-powerful with the young king, who became at last a mere tool in his hands. Created Duke : Of Northumberland in 1551, Dudley revolved still more ambitious schemes; and he de- termined to remove Somerset from his path, as one who might in the future US prove a dangerous enemy. Suddenly, at night, without a moment's warning, Somerset and a num- ber of his friends were seized and com- =S+ mitted to close prison. === The ex-protector was accused of a treason- able design to excite an insurrection in the north ; and of felony, in having plotted the death of Dudley and other members of the council. On the first accusation he was acquitted, but was con- demned to death on the charge of felony, to the great disappointment and grief of the people, who had raised a shout on hearing the first verdict of acquittal. Somer- set was executed on Tower Hill on the 22nd of January, 1552, amid the tears of the spectators, who loved him and detested his powerful and unscru- pulous rival. He was a well-meaning man, rather to be pitied than condemned ; somewhat weak and vacillating, and unfit for his great office, especially in times when it was impera- tively necessary that every man who took a part in the great game of ambition should tread warily and firmly. Execution of Somerset, 1552 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. - - - - - §º sº. ºr "Rºº.32 N § ºš * --> * º Żºłºś. §§§ºś Y - - * § - - twº - ;sº §§§ Eß º d - ºf flºº. § XVII. THE VERB $erbert. IT must particularly be remembered that the verb moerben (vair'-den) occurs in two forms. When it stands alone it is the intransitive —w verb TO BECOME—as, Qer 9)?amm piro aſt, the dare mann veer'rt alt man becomes old, Şir purben föläfnig, vee,” voo,”’’-den Shlaif-nich we became sleepy. Used with another verb, it becomes an auxiliary, and helps to form the tenses of that verb. As we have seen, with the infinitive it forms the future id) ſperbe ſieben, I shall love; ©te myerben fommen, they will come. Of its use in forming the passive voice of verbs, we shall have to speak later on. We here consider nyerben as standing alone, and therefore translate it “to become.” * * * Principal Parts. Infinitive. Imperfect. º Past participle. 3Gerben, to become. iſ purºe, or itſ marb, I became. genoorben, become. wair.’-den 'ich voo'7'-de ich warra. ge-vor,”-den INDICATIVE. SUBJUNCTIVE. $d) ſei gemoorben, I may have become, or that Present. have become, [etc. Šd toerbe Šd) iterbe |- Øu feiſt gemoorben, thou mayst have become, ich vain”:'-de 'ich vain")'-de 'E 3)u mottſt Øu myerbeſt 90 The compound tenses of merben are formed doo vie?',"st } { 3, ...lest –Š, exactly like those of ſein, to be, with the sole (ºr noirb ă (śt myerbe § 3. ºpº *: º participle º oft,” wie,”’t O ...,v.de §§ must.be substituted for geneſen, and the p E. g # 5 | infinitive merben for ſein throughout, as in the §§tt tºerbert (D §§it berbert 9 @ first and d persons given below veerr vair)'-den . veer, vair,’-den . . rst and second persons given below. Q. cº-h- Q. O $5r moerbet 9 $5r toerbet § E. * earr ºairr'-det earr vair'-det sº Plup ºº: ©te moerben ©ie toerben E. §§ tº gewoºn, I had become zee vairr'-den. zee vain','-den. Sº, ſich, vahr ge-vorº'-dem, 3)u marſt gemoorben, thou hadst become, etc. Imperfect. ºw doo valºrst ge-vor?’’-den Sº tourbe 3d, witbe K- $d toãre genoorben, I might have become, or 'ich wood"r'-de ich puerº'-de E. Čch vain"-rege-vorr'-den [(that) I had become, 3)u mourbeſt Øu noſtrbeſt %3. Øu tvárſt gemoorben, thou mightst have doo poor' dest dao ºuerº-dest := doo vairrst ge-vor,”-den [become, etc. (ºr mourbe g (ºr noſtrbe § 3. airr voor'r'-de É §: ovue”''-de É 3 JFirst Future. $ir tourben O it noirben E - veer” woor?’’-den, (ween"r vuerº'-den, 9 5 3d, w ºte werten I shall become. O. Q. gº 3 o ich vair'7'-de vain','-den, Sûr mourbet 9 $5r moirbet O H 3Du hoirſt moerben, thou wilt become, etc. earr voor”-det earr vuerr'-det º do veerst vairºien j ©te ºutbelt ©te toittben E. b hat.) I shall b zee voor”-den, Zée vuem'r'-deº, Sº Šd) iterbe verben, (that) I shall become. The second form of the imperfect of moerben is generally used in poetry, but is also found in many prose writers, who use it to give variety to the style. The Subjunctive form very seldom occurs. This poetical imperfect runs thus:— Sdy marb $d) moatbe Hº- 'ich vahºrd Žch vairº'-de E g)u marbft Øu märbeft Gº” doo vahrdst Hº-H doo vairrºdest -5. (ºr roarb ă (ºr wārbe § g airr vahrd 3 ai,” vain"r'-de 3 3 $it moatbelt É $it bärbert ; : veerr varr’-den . veerr vairn'-den ... " Q: pe $9.1 marbet § $51 mérbet § 3 earr warr'-det ear, vaiºr'-det as ©te marbert ©ie noćirbett : zee warr'-den, zee vair'-den, Sº Perfect. $6 bin gettorben, I have (or am) become, ich binn ge-vorr’-den 3)u biſt genoorben, thou hast (or art) become, doo bisst ge-vor,”-den [etc. * The may and the that are more often understood than expressed. 'ich vain.”’’-de vairr'-den. 3)u merbeſt merben, doo vai,'?'-dest vain?'-den. Second Future. 3d) toerbe genoorben ſein, I shall have ich vairº-dege-corr-den zine [become, gott mirſt gemoorben ſein, thou wilt have doo veer'st ge-vor,”-den zine [become, etc. $6) perbe genoorben ſein, (that) I shall £ch vain?'-dege-vorz'-den zine [have become, 3)u merbeſt genoorben ſein, (that) thou doo vain"r'-dest [wilt have become, etc. (that) thou wilt [become, etc. FIRST CONDITIONAL. Şd biirbe merben, I should become, 'ich vuerr’-de vaiºr'-den. 3)u märbeft nyerben, thou wouldst be- doo vuerr'-dest vairr'-den [come, etc. SECOND CONDITIONAL. - Şd) wittbe genoorben feim, I should have ich ouerr'-dege-corr’-den zine [become, 3)u mitroeſt genºorben fetit. doo vuerr'-dest ge-vor'-den zine ASTRONOMY. 507 IMPERATIVE. §§erbe (bu), become (thou). vain"r'-de doo 38erbe er, let him become. wain'r’-de air” 38erben noir, let us become. wairm'-den vee,” §§erbet (ijt), become (ye). wača"r'-det ear” QSerben ſte, let them become. wairr'-den zee In this, as in the other verbs, the form ſafft uné verben, ſafft ſte merben, is more frequently used than myerben moir and verben ſte. INFINITIVE. Present–98erben, to become. wairr'-den, Past–Genoorben ſegm, to have become. ge-von''-den zyme Future—98erben merben, to be about to [become. 'vair'r'-den vair'-den. XVI. IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES. WE have now to notice some important dis- coveries that were made, and which had the greatest influence on the accuracy of astrono- mical observation. Whilst the Danish astronomer Olaus Römer was staying in Paris to assist Picard, he ob- tained a number of observations of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites, but particularly of the 1st satellite. With the view, probably, of obtain- ing data to correct the tables of the satellites, he proceeded to reduce these observations to their proper form. He found that the eclipses of the satellites seemed to be retarded as the earth moved farther away from the planet. Thus, when the earth was at a in fig. 51 the satellite seemed to be eclipsed 73 minutes earlier than when the earth was at either b or c. Pondering over the cause of this, it struck him that a perfectly analogous effect would be produced were light to take any appreciable time to pass from the satellite to the earth. Because, if this were so, we should not see the satellite disappear at the moment it was lost in the shadow of the planet, for the light- waves which left the planet the instant before it was eclipsed in the shadow would not reach the observer for some time afterwards, and the satellite would not seem to vanish until these last waves of light had reached the observer, and would appear therefore as much later as the time which it took for them to travel the dis- & tance between the satellite and Piºſelyº tº the earth. Now, as the earth velocity of light when at , or e is farther away from the planet than when at a, the light would take a longer time to reach the earth, and the Satellites would remain a longer timé Visible than when the earth was at a. Römer concluded, therefore, that light took seven minutes to travel the distance of the earth from the Sun, and that this accounted for the observed retardation in the times of the eclipses. Römer announced his discovery in a Com- munication to the Paris Academ Of -Tºgo, T- Sciences in . year Jupº Zer 1675. It excited much - attention, and at first met with general ap- probation, but slowly lost ground when it came to be further investigated. Cassini had held the same view even prior to Römer; but he had found it to be inconsistent with some of his ob- Servations, so he felt obliged to reject it. He now re-examined the subject, but with the same result. He pointed out that though it accounted well for the phenomena presented by the I. satellite, it was inconsistent with the observations of the other satellites. Accordingly, - in his new tables of Jupiter's Apparent insuff- satellites, published in 1653, he “º.” rejected Römer's theory, and eory, introduced instead some arbitrary corrections. The English A stro nomer Royal, Flam- stead, was also adverse to the theory Of Römer, but it found a warm advocate in the ill us trio us Halley. Later, in 1707, Maral- di, the nephew of Cassini, and an energetic observer of the satellites of Jupiter, a d- vanced some powerful argu- ments against the valid ty of the theory of R 6 m e r , founded on Some pheno- mena which ought to be observed were it true, but which he showed had not been observed. Gradually astronomers were swayed over to the opinion that Römer's theory was unsound, and that the phenomena of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites did not indicate the existence of an “equation of light,” as it was called, or a correction depending on the velocity of light. 508 THE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. It seemed almost certain that the retardation detected by Römer arose in some different TO2.Il D62T. At this period Molyneux, an English states- man, but an amateur astronomer, erected an instrument called a zenith sector, and consist- ing of a small arc of a circle of large diameter, firmly fixed perpendicularly in the meridian in a manner which allowed of very accurate measurement being made of the distance of stars from the zenith. Molyneux, with a young friend Bradley, observed the zenith distance of the star y Draconis, with the view of detecting any annual parallax which the star might exhibit. In the middle of December, 1725, Bradley carefully watched the passage of the star across the meridian, and marked on the zenith sector its distance from the zenith. If the star had any annual parallax it would slowly move towards the north, but they knew that it would be some time before any motion would be observable. On the 17th December Bradley resolved to adjust more accurately the mark indicating the zenith distance of the star, so he carefully watched the passage of the star across the meridian. He noticed that the star was really a little more south than he had placed it on his former observation, and he wondered how he came to make such an error. He mentioned it to Molyneux, and they agreed to very carefully observe the star, so as to make sure that there was no error. The next fine day was the 20th, and Molyneux and Bradley sallied out together to observe the passage of y Draconis. To their astonishment the star was found to be still to the south. They therefore determined the place of the star with extreme accuracy, and waited for the next fine night. Again they observed its passage across the instrument, and again they found it farther south. There could be no doubt: the star was certainly moving south. This entirely perplexed them : it was certainly not due to any parallax in the star, for it was moving in the wrong direction. They resolved, therefore, to carefully watch it from day to day. They found the star steadily advance towards the south until March, when it was more than 20" to the south of its place in December, and after remaining almost station- ary it then slowly moved back towards the north, and in June was back at its old distance from the zenith. But it did not stop, but moved on towards the north, until in September it was more than 20" to the north of its old place ; then after again remaining nearly stationary it returned towards the South, until by Decem- ber 1726 it was back in the same place that it occupied in the preceding December. This mysterious motion sorely puzzled Moly- neux and Bradley, and the latter determined to have erected a zenith sector of his own. In August 1727 the instrument was finished, and Bradley commenced his observations, not con- fining himself to y Draconis, but choosing eleven other stars to observe as well. Moly- Discovery of aberration. neux died while the observations were in pro- gress, but Bradley, continuing the work by himself, found that they all exhibited a similar covery to the Royal Society in 1729. *= periodical change, but at different times of the year and in different manners, and in a way which was inconsistent with any hypothesis which he could imagine. At last the idea struck him that he might try if the velocity of light could have anything to do with the phenomenon ; for he had tried everything else, and he was an advocate of Römer's hypothesis, having already introduced it into his tables of Jupiter's satellites. He readily found that the motion of the earth in its orbit would slightly alter the apparent places of the stars unless the rays of light move enormously quicker than the earth. This is easily understood by the figure (52). Sup- pose that a r" is a pencil of light coming from the zenith, and that the earth was stationary, then the telescopea of our zenith sector must also be directed towards the zenith. But if the earthis moving, our telescope must be directed towards the side to which it is moving. Thus, when the pencil of light is at r, the telescope will be at a ; but by the time the pencil has reached 7", the telescope has moved to aſ : so unless the telescope was directed on one side, as shown, the pencil of light would no longer be on the middle of the telescope, but would have touched one of the sides. Finally, when the pencil reaches the observer at r" the telescope and observer would have moved to the position a”. From the motion of the earth, therefore, a pencil of light which really came from the zemith would seem to come in the direction b"a", and the star which sent the light would seem to be in the direction b"a". It can be shown that if the pencil of light move 10,000 times quicker than the earth, or the distance a aº be rººm of the distance r ,", the angle r a a” will be 21", or a star like y Draconis will seem to be altered by 21” on either side of its mean place. This aberration of light, as Bradley termed it, completely accounted for the motion of the stars which he had observed, and he trium- phantly communicated an account of his dis- Its im- portance was at once recognized, and it was at once seen to completely confirm Römer's discovery of the velocity of light. For whilst Bradley's observation indicated 8m. 12s, for the time which light would take to cross the radius of the earth's orbit, Römer had found rather more than 7 m.—no important difference considering the imperfect state of the tables of Jupiter's satellites. Thus at a time when Römer's discovery seemed altogether dis- credited, it was completely verified in a manner that its author could not have even dreamt of. Bradley had noticed during his observations some peculiardifferences between the theoretical places of the stars and the observed places. He could not account for these, and determined to continue his observations, to see what, if any, law was followed by these discrepancies. Years went by, but still he was unable to assign any cause to these variations. By 1736 he had arrived at the opinion that it might be due to a slight motion of the axis of the earth, and it seemed to have a similar period to the revolution of the nodes of the orbit of the moon. By 1745 Discovery of nutation. # A RITH METIC, 4 ô09 he found that these variations had gone through a complete periodical change in eighteen years, which was the time required by the nodes of the orbit of the moon to perform one revolution. He was able to announce that the polar axis of the earth moved once in eighteen years in a small circle 18" in diameter around its mean place, and he called this phenomenon the mutation. Subsequent observation has com- pletely confirmed this discovery, and it has been shown to arise from the attraction of the moon on the equatorial regions of the earth. Practical astronomy had now settled down into quieter times, and for years no great dis- covery was made with the telescope. At the different observatories which had been founded in different states, regular observations were made of the principal heavenly bodies. Fore- most stands the long series of invaluable observations made at Greenwich, which under the able superintendence of the different Astronomers Royal supplied the principal mass of exact obser- vations for perfecting our knowledge of the motion of the moon and planets and the position of the principal stars. Flamstead, the first Astro- nomer Royal, was succeeded in 1720 by Edmund Halley, who in turn was succeeded in 1742 by James Bradley, the discoverer of aberration and nutation. The observations of Bradley were made with a transit instrument and two mural quadrants, and are the only observations of this period which are comparable in accuracy with those of modern days. He was succeeded in 1762 by Maskelyne, who continued assidu- ously to obtain observations of the moon, planets, and principal stars, until his death in 1818. The Royal Observatory at Paris was founded on a different system, there being no real head, but a number of observers who de- voted themselves to such investigations as they thought proper. Cassini was succeeded by his son Cassini II, and Maraldi; but the principal observations during the period 1686–1730 were * made by La Hire, Cassini II., and O . Maraldi the elder ; and from 1730 bservatory, to 1760 by the younger Maraldi and Lemonnier, and subsequently by Lemonnier, Lacaille, and Cassini III. The observations consist principally of eclipses, occultations of stars, and the phenomena of Jupiter's satel- lites, and the determination of the places of the stars. The observatory at Rome was prin- cipally devoted to cursory observation of the planets, and its best observations were made by Bianchini and Boscovitch. At St. Peters- burg the observatory was first under the direc- tion of Delisle (1725-48)—some of whose observations have proved of great value—and then under that of Heinsius. During this period the most celebrated German astronomer was Tobias Mayer, who was head of the obser- vatory of Gottingen between 1750 and 1760. Although these observations have been of the greatest service to , astronomy, enabling astronomers to improve the tables of the planets and their satellites, to catalogue the stars, and to more accurately determine the value of the precession of the equinoxes, the velocity of Steady progress in astronomy, Greenwich Observatory, light, and the value of aberration, etc., they do not demand any detailed account. The method by which they were made has been already detailed ; and though slight improvements were introduced, no material alterations were effected. During the middle of the eighteenth century much attention was devoted by French astro- nomers to determining the real diameter and figure of the earth. Newton, by the theory of gravitation, had shown that the earth was a very slightly flattened sphere, with a polar diameter about gºt part shorter than the equa- torial diameter, or, as it is termed, an oblate spheroid with an ellipticity of gr. In the early part of the eighteenth century, Cassini and La Hire measured arcs of the meridian, and obtained results which seemed to indicate that the polar axis was longer than the equatorial. This gave rise to a bitter con- troversy about the true figure º f of the earth, which lasted for * *. ...” many years, the observations made in Europe seeming to favour the result obtained by Cassini. At last, in 1735, the Paris Academy sent out two expeditions, one to measure an arc in Peru, near the equator, and the other to measure an arc in Lapland. These expeditions were conclusive in favour of the Newtonian theory; and in 1740 a re-mea- surement of Cassini’s arc of the meridian showed the existence of some small errors which, when rectified, led to the same result. Subsequently other arcs of the meridian were measured, and it was rendered certain that the earth was in figure an oblate spheroid, of ellipticity about ###, with a polar axis of about 7,899, and an equatorial diameter of 7925, miles. XVI. ENGLISH MEASURES OF LENGTH. THE standard measure of length is the yard, and by Act of Parliament in the year 1835 it was decided that the length of the yard should be—“the straight line or distance between the centre of the two points in the gold studs in the straight brass rod now in the custody of the Clerk of the House of Commons, whereon the words ‘Standard Yard, 1760,’ are en- graved.” This rod was subsequently destroyed in the fire, but a very accurate copy of it exists, by means of which the exact length of the yard can be determined. The objection to having a certain rod or dis- tance between two points as the standard of length, from which all other lengths are to be determined, is that the substance of which it is made is liable to expand or contract from heat, damp, and other natural influences, to say nothing of the danger of complete destruc- § 510 TEYE UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. t tion or loss, as in the case of the standard yard mentioned above. Thereis, however, another way of determining at any time the exact length of a yard, depend- ing on the fact that if two pendulums take the same time to oscillate under the same condi- tions as to latitude, etc., they must be of exactly the same length. So that having Once found out the time which a pendulum a yard long takes to vibrate, a pendulum can always be found which, by lengthening or shortening, will take exactly the same time to vibrate, and will therefore be of exactly the same length. The yard thus fixed is subdivided into 3 feet, and the foot again into 12 inches. The Table of Linean. Measure is the following:— 3 Barley-corns make I inch, written I in. 12 Inches ,, 1 foot ,, 1 ft. 3 Feet ,, 1 yard , l yd. 6 Feet ,, 1 fathom ,, 1 fth. 5} Yards make 1 rod, pole, or perch, written 1 r. or p. 40 Poles (or 220 yds.) make 1 furlong, written 1 fur. 8 Furlongs (or 1760 yds.) make 1 mile, written I m 3 Miles make 1 league, written 1 lea. The Barley-corn, which is now never used in measuring, is so called because, in primitive times, the inch was found by placing length- wise 3 barley-corns taken from the centre of the ear. Also- 4 inches make 1 hand (used in measuring horses’ heights). 22 yards make 1 chain } used in measuring 100 links , 1 » land. Table of Cloth Measure: used for measuring cloth, linen, etc. 2} inches make 1 nail, 4 nails 2, 1 quarter , 4 quarters , 1 yard 35 5 quarters , 1 ell. Example 1: Reduce 132562 inches to miles, written I n!. 1 qr. 1 yd. Ctc. 12)132562 inches 3)11046...10 in. (rem.) 3682,. 2 .0 ft. (rem.) 1)7364 40)669...5 half-yards, i.e. 24 yds. (rem.) 8)16.. 2,..0 furlongs (rem.) mi, fur. po. yds. ft. in. Ans. 2 0 29 24 O 10. In this example, when we want to reduce the yards to poles, we have to divide 3682 yards by 5}, because 1 pole = 5% yards. Now 5} = 10 halves + 1 half = 11 halves ; ... in 1 pole there are 11 half-yards. Hence, if we bring 3682 yards to half-yards, and divide by II, we shall get the right number .29 poles (rem.) of poles for our quotient, and the remainder over (if any) will be half-yards. Hence, in all such examples, when we come to reduce the yards to poles, we multiply the yards by 2 and divide the product by 11. The quotient will be poles, and the remainder half- yards. Example 2: Reduce mi. fur, po. 5 2 8 42 40 - 1692 5% 8460 846 3 9309 3 27929 12 335148 12 3 furlongs. poles. yards. feet. inches. yds. ft. 2 to inches. To reduce the poles to yards we must multiply by 5}. The best way to do this is to multiply by 5, and then take half, and add the two results. In this example we have also to add in the 3 yards. The student may prove Example 1 by reducing the answer back again to inches, by the method of Example 2. And he may prove Example 2 by re- ducing the answer back to miles, furlongs, etc. Example 3: Reduce 150 chains to miles, furlongs, etc. 150 22 300 300 *- 3300 2 11)6600 - 40)600 -*- chains, yards. We first reduce chains to yards by multiplying by 22. As in last example, in reducing the yards to poles, we multiply by 2 and divide by 11. ...0 half-yards. 8)15 ...0 poles. * 1 ...7 furlongs. Ans. 1 mile 7 furlongs. Example 4: Reduce 562 inches to ells, quar- ters, nails. 562 4 *-* 9)2248 - 4)249 5)62 ..qr.-in. Here, in order to reduce inches to nails, we must divide by 2%, or by #. This is done by multiply- ing by 4 and dividing the product by 9, the re- mainder being qr.-yds. ...7 qr.-inches, i.e. 13 in. (rem.) ...1 nail (rem.) 12...2 quarters (rem.) ells qrs, ml. in. Ans. 12 2 1 l;. Jºaºercises. 1. Add the following :- fur. po. yds. yds. ft. in. yds. Qr. Inls. (a) 12 3 4 (b) 7 0 11 (c) 1 1 0 * 21 30 5 0 2 7 15 3 3 12 O } 5 2 3 1.1 2 1 11 25 2 4 1 10 32 2 2 º MUSIC. 511 lea. m. fur. yds. m. yds, ft. (d) 19 876 1 (e) 6 O 6 75 27 990 2 4 2 3 187 6 1543 0 7 1 5 219 7 1324 2 14 2 7 142 N.B.-1 pole = 220 yards; and 1 mile = 1760 yards. (See Table.) yd. ft. in. mi. yd. ft. in. 2. From (a) 14 1 4 (b) 33 100 1 5 Subtract 10 2 11 26 1000 2 9 *m-s-s-s «P mi. fur. po- yd. ft. in. (d) 17 0 || 1 || 0 0 1 mi. fur. po. yd. (c) 30 4 24 2 3 7 39 4, 2 J 8 7 32 14 3. Multiply : (a) 33yd. 2.ft. 11 in...by 17; (b) 23fur. 3po.2yd. by 100 ; (c) 5 yds. 10 in, by 72; (d) 3 mi. 6 fur. 30 po. 2 yds. 1 ft. 7 in. by 9; (e) 3 mi. 7 fur. 21 po. by 79; (f) 5yds. 2 ft. 113 in. by 84; (g) 7 fur. 26 po. 4% yds. by 56. 4. Divide : (a) 577 yd. 1 ft. 7 in. by 17; (b) 34 mi. 4 fur. 34 po. 0yd. 2.ft. 3in, by 9; (c) 311 mi. 2ſur. 19po. by 79 ; (d) 429 fur. 21 po. 4; yds, by 56. 5. How many times are— a) 2 mi. 4 fur. 52 yds. contained in 17 in. 5 fur. 144 yds. 2 (b) 2 fur. 22 yds. 6in. contained in 37 fur. 179 yds. 7 (c) I mi. 6fur. 137 yds. 1 ft. 6in. contained in 14 lea. 1 mi. 7 fur. 7 (d) 1 yd. 2.ft. 3 in. contained in 141 yds. 2 ft. 3 in. 7 (e) 1 mi. 1151 yd. 2 ft. contained in 200 mi. 311 yds. 2 ft. " (f) 1 yd. 1 ft. 1 in. contained in 289 yds. 2 ft, 9in. 7 Answers. 1. (a) 57 fur. 20 p. 1 yd. ; (b) 18 yds. 1 ft. 7 in. ; (c) 61 yds. I qr, 2nls. ; (d) 61 mi. 1124yds, 2 ft. ; (e) 33 lea. 1 mi. 7 fur. 183 yds. 2.(a)3 yds. Ift. 5in.; (b)6 mi. 859 yds. Ift.8in.; (c) 21 mi. 4 fur. 31 po. 3 yds. 1 ft. 6 in. ; (d) 13 mi. 1 po. 1 in. 3 (a) 577 yds. Ift. 7 in.; (b) 2366 po. 3 yds. 2.ft.; (c) 380yds.; (d)34 mi. 4fur. 34po. Oyd. 2ft. 3 in. (e) 311 mi. 2 fur. 19 po. ; (f) 502 yds. 0 ft. 9 in. (g) 429 fur. 21 po. 43 yds. 4 (a) 33 yds. 2 ft. 11 in. ; (b) 3 mi. 6 fur. 30 po. 2 yds. 1 ft. 7 in. ; (c) 3 mi. 7 fur. 21 po.; (d) 7 fur. 26 po. 4% yds. 5 (a) 7; (b) 18; (c) 2.4; (d) 81; (e) 121 ; (f) 213. EXERCISES IN FINDING THE KEY. WE Supplement the instructions given in the last chapter by a set of quotations from the works of reputable composers, which will serve to test the student's grasp of the foregoing rules. The problem is to discover * the key. The maze of contradic. ** diº the * $ ey. tory signs will perplex the eye at first, but let the rule of “sharpest " and “flattest " notes be borne in mind, and the secret will be discovered. Before beginning to write or to Sol-fa, let the pupil look to the end of the phrase for the distinguishing note of the new key. The whole of these examples are in. One key throughout :— HAYDN. _--~ ** - a- ~s 2-S Nº gº tº TER B-E-ºp- ====E=#EEEEEEEE H–F–A–E––H #: ===HºHE H=HE ######### From morn to eye you shall re - peat Ollº grate - ful hymns of praise. HAYDN. 6 | look, O With fly - ing mane and fiery –0 - | w"T * be e. -e- ? -Eºm Eºga *. effºr:############## im - pa-tiernt neighs ; | Uğ S. the no - ble steed. J. G. CALLCOTT. 2- bo- Ez-EšEEE ====E== #: - {º ======= -*—E- Summer days the earth for - sak - ing Spread a gol-den flush a - round. E. C. SUCH. He maketh wars to cease, He maketh Wars to cease, un - to the ends, un - to the ends of the earth. PODHORSKY. 3 5e. S eiff====E *HF be © be º 2-L-E- *——º-E-E–e4 ºff- E-bºº-Hºº-º-E- l 512 THE:UNIVERSAL INSTRUCTOR. FRANZ ABT. -h- –0- * + * y h– zº- h. º * TTI SEF: Z_TES —º--N - º R * e l 9. Qº e *- ##### iºn ###e*****E*### A. sim - ple Song I fain would sing Sometimes, when a passage does not contain either a te or a fah, the rule of sharpest and flattest notes will not give the clue. N F-g ====E== thee, A Song whose spell should chain thine heart. FOT example, in the following — MACFARREN : St. John. (\ ----- *—h--— A- E-N+5.9––s—s S - #2 ========H The heav'ns were o-pen-ed un-to The key must be decided by the melodic shape, already noticed. What it is in this instance we leave the reader to discover. In the following examples the key changes during the course of the phrase. change is so abrupt and decided that we may safely ask the reader to search for the “flattest” note and name the new key :— Him. But the E. PROUT: Heremºa'rd. —— — a 22, | L b ##########################| Hº-1–H |--|--|- | •) Ah! blissful hour, all danger past, My lovel’ve won, I’ve won my love at last : Ah, blissful, blissful hour! |BERTHOLD TOURS. A - rise and com-fort those in-to whose eyes Their well-belov'd have smil'd fare-well. §§§ sº S. ºs. 3C: fºº: º-º. 53 Sº sº º NA. . … º: Ø: : :O *śNºšº/ºgº lºssºm § § º § ºw t Š ºš ºl-2% º If ºf. -Nºv. ' º sº PH ºlº ºl: º, -- s"Wºº - XVI. BROOKS AND RIVERS. WHETHER rising from springs, or descending on the surface from elevations, the origin of - rivers is generally the union of Formation of various small streams, which col- * lectively form a body of water to which the more dignified name of river is given. Some rivers, however, as the Rhone, Originate in glaciers, which bring down immense bodies of frozen snow from the summits of lofty moun- tains, as described in our notice of glacial phenomena. All rivers are swollen by rain in the wet season; and in some countries (remark- ably so in South Africa and Australia), the beds of rivers which are rushing torrents at certain periods, are waterless channels in the dry season, the loss by evaporation having more than counterbalanced the scanty supply from the original Sources. Rivers rising at great elevations, either from springs, melted snow, or excessive rainfall, and formed by the union of many mountain tor- rents, exert a tremendous force in removing the obstacles which the formation of the ground and the nature of the rocks may present to their rapid descent to lower regions. In some instances they topple over preci- Cataracts pices, forming those stupendous cataracts which, as in the case of Niagara, and the Victoria Falls, on the Zambesi, in Africa, are the wonders of the world. In such cases, the chemical elements with which the waters are charged do not produce much effect on the rocks, the motion of the stream being too rapid; but the marvellous force of the river wears away the rock by erosive action, the fall recedes, and deep ravines are formed, the sides of which retain a vertical character. At Niagara, a hundred million tons of water dash over the rocks every hour, and the effect, even on the hardest rocks, of such an action may be guessed at, if it cannot be estimated with any approach to accuracy. There is good reason - to believe that the falls have neºn of receded at least seven miles from IOCRS's the place where they were originally situated; in other words, that a mass of hard rock, seven miles long, nearly two hundred feet high, and about half a mile wide, has been ground down, as it were, by the action of the water, and carried away by the rush of the river. Natural bridges, of which that in Virginia is a typical instance, are caused by the washing away by water power of the softer strata of rock, leaving a barrier of harder substance, which remains because the water has free way beneath it. The most stupendous gorges in the world are the Cañons (from a Spanish word meaning a tube or pipe), formed by the Colorado and other rivers, rising among the lofty Rocky Mountains of western North America. These rivers flow through ravines thousands of feet deep, cut out in vast table- lands. The Grand Cañon of the Colorado is three hundred miles long, and in some places more than six thousand feet deep, with perpen- dicular sides. The country is hardly to be ------|-- & WARD & LOCK's W NIVERSAL INSTRUGTOR cowſAIMS All NECESSARY DIRECTIONS FOR A00U/R/NG PROFICIENCY } Algebra. } ANATOMY : Animal. Comparative. | Human. | Arithmetic. | Astronomy. Biography. Book-keeping. Botany. Chemistry. CoMMERCE : History. Practico. ' | Drawing. | Electricity. Elocution. English Grammar. English Literature. Eihnology, f ExPERIMENTAL PIIILo- Sº PIIY : netism. tricity. 'anism. £at. Y Weight. , Chemistry. Sound. Meteorology, &c. &c. FINE ARTs: Drawing. Perspective. Sketching ſrg ture. Music. Singing. French Languag French Literature Galvanism. GEOGRAPHY : Physical. Political. | M E NEW YORK : THE d Geology. Geometry. German Language. German Literature. Greek Language. Greek Literature. Health. Heat. HISTORY : Ancient. Sacred. Mediaeval. Modern. Great Britain Ireland. Hydrostatics. Italian Language. Italian Literature. Land-Surveying. and LANGUAGES : A Ticient— Latin. Greek. Mode/11– French. German. Italian. Spanish. Latin Language Latin Literature. Light. LITERATURE : Ancient— Roman. Greek. IN IN THE FOLLOWING AMONG OTHER SUBJECTS : Machines & Machinery. Logarithms. | | Magnetism. MATHE MATICS : Arithmetic. Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry, &c. MECI1ANICAL PHILO- SOPIIY : Mcchanics. Hydrostatics. Hydraulics. Pneumatics. Mensuration. Meteorology. Mineralogy. t Music. NATURAL HISTORY: Mineralogy. Geology. Botany. Zoology. Animal Physiology. Human Physiology. Vegetable Physiology Comparative Ana- iomy, &c. Perspective. Physiology, Animal. Physiology, Human, Pneumatics. Reading. Shorthand. Singing. Sketching from Nature, Sound. Spanish Language. Spanish Literature. Trigonometry. Writing. Zoology. \ MonTHLY. SOME OPINIONS OF THE BRITISH PRE WARD AND LOCK's UniMBTSäl This Work has been reviewed by a very large number of Newspapers and Literary and Educational Periodicals throughout England, Ireland, and Scotland, and in all cases favourably. The following are a few selections — “THE work Is ExCELLENT, AND IT IS To BE HoPED IT #AY MEET witH THE POPULARITY IT DESERVEs.”—The Athenaeum. “We have waited to see the second part before expressing an opinion upon ‘Ward and Lock's Universal Instructor; or, Self-Culture for All,” and find the promise of the opening more than fulfilled now that the subjects are beginning to advance, . . . . The various authors have evidently laboured to condense the greatest amount of information into their lessons, and while helping beginners, they in no way overlook the requirements of students who need higher instruction. The comprehensive excellence of the work is combined with cheap- ness, and thus it offers an undoubted boon to those who wish to enrich their minds and improve their position by self-culture.”—London Daily Chronicle, “We are pleased with this first part, and can imagine the wealth of advantage which many young students will gain from its use. It is well printed on good paper of a handy size. . . . . . It is a very cheap and useful publication."—The Christian World. “The first number is a storehouse of knowledge in itself, and at the first start a good selection of subjects are dealt with. The contributors include some of the best known men in their various de- partments of knowledge. . . . . . The work pro- mises to be one difficult to excel as a means of imparting educational knowledge for everyone.”— The Derby Telegraph. “We can heartily recommend this new publica- tion to all who are desirous of self-culture; the contributions, as well as the illustrations, are all good.”—Sheffield Telegraph. “The work, which is well got up, is an important and valuable addition to the educational literature of the day.”—Bristol Mercury. “We do not hesitate to say that the ‘Universal Instructor,' when completed, will, to those who carefully study its pages, prove to be one of the greatest educational blessings which have emanated from any publishing firm. . . . . . We should rejoice to know that this most valuable work was to be found in every family.”—Derbyshire Gazette. “We feel assured that the publication will be productive of much good, as it appears to be admir- ably adapted to the requirements of all classes , students.”—Western Daily Mercury. | NEW YORK : TH ON &ſ t ** * § * * # * # * IISTIC[0].